#like!! his role is over!! its time to turn a new page and move forward despite it all

[mako-neexu]

despite wanting, i feel like obe having no interlude or no more main story role makes it better... as im concerned about U olga 2 fight with her unlocking the pretender class in the class score...

as lb6 is gone, the final curtain call has been drawn and he's stepped off of his role from the stage of avalon le fae but even so, he can still witness the person he cares about from the sidelines and events, even from backstage where he can offer respite without prying eyes and blinding lights (like in the form of passing mentions like in LA's valentines) i think its much more sweeter that way... and more in line with obe's train of thought.. i dont mind seeing him more but bringing him back in the main story leaves a weird taste in my mouth

[mitchipedia]

"You've got me? Who's got you!" Rewatching the 1978 "Superman" movie starring Christopher Reeve

The 1978 “Superman,” starring Christopher Reeve, launched the superhero film genre as it exists today. We rewatched it recently, enjoyed it, and I recommend it.

However, the movie takes a painfully long time to get going.  

”Superman” starts with pages turning on the 1938 Action Comics issue that launched the Superman character, narrated by a child’s voice-over. We did not remember this from seeing the movie previously. We wondered whether we had accidentally rented the wrong version of “Superman.” We had not. Onward. 

Then we go to Krypton, where the movie creeps forward. We see Marlon Brando as Superman’s father, Jor-El, wearing white stunt hair and a turtleneck with the Superman logo in it.

I wish the phrase “phoning it in” was not a cliche so I could use to to describe Brando’s performance. He drones on and on, making one speech after another. 

He’s concluding the prosecutor’s statement in the trial of three insurrectionists (ripped from the 2020s headlines!), who end up being sentenced to the Phantom Zone. I’m sure we won’t see these insurrectionists again—they won’t be any trouble and will not turn up in “Superman II.”

General Zod, played by Terence Stamp, is the leader of the trio, and his scenery-chewing is the only good part of this scene.

I saw “Superman” with friends in the theater during its first run in 1978, and I was very excited to tell them after the movie all about the Phantom Zone. I even guessed that the three villains would feature in the movie sequel. I was very proud of myself for this. Possibly related: It took me a long time to lose my virginity.  

Jor-El warns the leadership council of Krypton that the whole planet is about to explode within a month. The leaders say this is fake news because they did their own research on YouTube. The council nopes out on evacuating the planet and tells Jor-El he can’t tell anybody about his beliefs or else he’ll be an insurrectionist (that word again). A sensible person would have told the council to fuck right off because the council was not going to have any clout after the ENTIRE FUCKING PLANET EXPLODES. But Jor-El just goes along with it.

Brando goes back home, where he and his wife (if her name is spoken, I didn’t hear it) put on matching glowy silver lamé jumpsuits. They put their baby in a spaceship. Before sending the baby off to Earth, Marlon Brando makes a very long speech, while his wife looks at him with an expression like she wants him to shut up because she needs to pee. 

Then we’re off to Earth, to whip through young Clark Kent’s childhood. The costumes and cars and brilliant. The scenery from the Kent farm is beautiful, but there is way too much of it. Can we get this movie moving already?

Clark challenges his father to run from the end of their driveway to the barn. Pa Kent has a heart attack and dies. Clark never mentions his own role in Pa’s death. That seems odd.

Next stop: the North Pole, where young Clark spends 12 years being lectured by the holographic Marlon Brando, and we, in the audience watching the movie, get to experience every painful second of those 12 years. 

All this time, Clark is played by an actor who is not Christopher Reeve and doesn’t even look much like Christopher Reeve. This guy:

But after 12 years at the North Pole, demonstrating powers of super-boredom-resistance, Clark becomes Christopher Reeve and emerges in his spiffy super-suit, which makes all the girls swoon. He is a hunka hunka burnin love. The suit is very flattering, but he really should be wearing something modest below the waist and above the knee to better cover his prominent super-johnson. Maybe bermuda shorts with a festive luau pattern? 

And we’re off to Metropolis and the movie takes off and keeps going. Finally! Lois Lane is fast-talking and smart; Christopher Reeve transforms from a nebbishy Clark into a charismatic Supe through the power of acting. Gene Hackman, Ned Beatty, and Valerie Perrine are the villains, and they chew the scenery delightfully. The sets are gorgeous, particularly Lex Luthor’s lair in the underground lobby of Grand Central Station. Why is Grand Central Station abandoned and apparently nearly forgotten in this movie? Does it even matter? No, it does not. 

Lois’s costumes are the height of 70s couture. The first thing we see her in is a nice skirt and blouse. And the skirt has pockets. And they look like BIG pockets. In some ways, technology has gone backward since 1978.

The Daily Planet newspaper takes up an entire skyscraper and has a helicopter to shuttle reporters around. I started work at a daily newspaper not long after “Superman” came out—we didn’t even have a budget to buy coffee for the staff. Employees had to pay for their own.  

Lois arranges an interview with Superman, which turns into a date. He flies her around the skies above Metropolis. She recites a love poem in her mind. The poem is painfully bad. It is like watching someone you like embarrass themselves in a talent competition.  

We see a very neatly dressed and well-groomed mugger. Nice blazer, turtleneck sweater. He needs a closer shave, but we’re otherwise good.

It’s part of a whole sequence of Superman’s day’s work, as he stops a cat burglar heist, rescues Air Force One after it loses an engine, and rescues a little girl’s cat from a tree. 

The ending of the movie, where Lois Lane dies (spoiler for a 45-year-old super-popular movie—don’t DM me!) is surprisingly dark. She’s smothered after being buried in an earthquake and we see all of it happening. But Superman quickly brings her back from the dead with his superpowers. 

Superman’s flying SFX are every bit as good and dazzling now as they were in 1978. Oh, some of the matte shots with the New York City skyline in the background are a little fake, but Superman’s movements are brilliant. A one-second bit where Superman changes from his Clark street clothes into his superhero costume while in flight is just wonderful—nothing much today but brilliant in the pre-CGI era that this movie was made in. Some of the other special effects, like Hoover Dam disintegrating and a downstream town flooding, are a little obviously done with miniatures but they still look fine.  

(Why do the sfx look fake now but not in 1978? I have a theory. In 1978, we saw these sfx on the big screen, where they looked great. They might still look great today on a big screen. Soon after, we saw the movie on smaller TVs, with lower quality screens than today, and the sfx still looked great. But today’s high-quality TVs make the sfx look fake—the screens aren’t big enough to compensate for the flaws revealed by the high definition.)

The movie can’t decide if it’s a camp superhero parody, or a serious superhero movie. It would have been better if it toned down the broad comedy and made Lex Luthor more scary.

Reeve’s acting carries the movie. There’s a scene that’s famous among fans where Lois Lane and Clark Kent are in the living room of her apartment. She leaves the room, and he decides to tell her he’s Superman. Until that moment, he’s a shlub, round-shouldered and with a goofy expression on his face. He stands up straight, squares his shoulders and jaw and takes off his glasses—and now he’s Superman. He starts to tell her. His voice as Clark is querulous and shaky, but Superman has a firm baritone. And he changes his mind, slumps his shoulders, puts on his glasses and now he’s Clark the shlemiel again. It all goes by in a few seconds, but it’s striking. 

Even the special effects are carried by Reeve’s acting. “You will believe a man can fly,” was the marketing slogan for the movie when it was released. You believe it in large part because Reeve was hanging from wires, moving like a person flying. Acting. )

I don’t have anything to say about John Williams’ musical score for the movie, except that it’s brilliant. I’m going to carry a Bluetooth speaker with me and play that score every time I enter a room. 

Overall, well worth a watch. Maybe skip the first 48 minutes though. You don’t need to see it. You already know Superman’s original story.  

Superman is my favorite superhero. He is optimistic and hopeful. He knows there is great evil in the world, but he knows that there is also great good, and he serves that good—“truth, justice and the American way." He knows some of what he says is corny and he says it anyway because he believes it. He is nearly all-powerful and invulnerable, but he is in awe of human beings because we are neither of those things, and yet we are capable of great kindness, nobility, and courage.

Sloppy Internet research

Four-year-old Clark Kent is played by an actor named Aaron Smolinski, who went on to a bit role in the 2013 Superman movie “Man of Steel” and also as Lex Luthor in a movie called “Superman: Solar,” which seems to be either an indy or fan-made Superman movie that got terrible reviews.

Larry Hagman has a cameo as an Army Major, making a joke that doesn’t age well. 

John Ratzenberger plays an air traffic controller. He went on to play Cliff from “Cheers,” and do a lot of voice-overs for Pixar movies.  

Kirk Allyn, who played Superman in 1940s Superman movies, has a cameo as Lois Lane’s father. When Clark is a boy in Smallville, little girl Lois sees Clark while passing through on a train, and Allyn appears in that scene. via

Noel Neill, who played Lois Lane in 1940s movies and the 1950s Superman TV series, also has a cameo. She’s Lois Lane’s mother in the same scene. via

“According to Sir Roger Moore’s autobiography, he witnessed Christopher Reeve walking through the canteen at Pinewood Studios in full Superman costume, oblivious to the swooning female admirers he left in his wake. When he did the same thing dressed as Clark Kent, no one paid any attention.” via

The Incomparable Mothership podcast did an episode about their “Superman” rewatch. They hated it. I don’t disagree with their criticisms, but for me, the virtues of the movie made up for its flaws. I enjoyed listening to the episode.

What happened to the actors

Marlon Brando continued working until his death in 2004. “Apocalypse Now” came out soon after “Superman.” His work in later life included two movies I quite enjoyed: “The Freshman” and “Don Juan DeMarco,” both of which are about charismatic rogues (though he only played the rogue in one of those movies). Brando also features in a delightful 2009 novel, “Chronic City,” by Jonathan Lethem, which explores the theme of whether we can believe anything or truly perceive reality. Brando isn’t a character in the novel. The characters can’t agree whether Brando is alive or dead, and the Internet is no help.  

Margot Kidder struggled with mental health in later life. Her 2018 death was ruled a suicide. via

As of April 2023, Valerie Perrine, age 79, was suffering from advanced Parkinson’s and needed a hydraulic lift to get into and out of bed. The Hollywood Reporter did an excellent profile—recommended reading: Ailing ‘Superman’ Star Valerie Perrine Finally Finds Her Hero: “The Guy Should Be Sainted”:

Perrine insists she wants no pity and regrets nothing about her Technicolor life: not one affair (she’s been romantically linked to everyone from Jeff Bridges to Elliott Gould to Dodi Fayed); not one hit of acid (she’s taken LSD more than 400 times, by her estimation); not one career move (well, she probably should have said yes to 1981’s Body Heat and no to 1980’s Can’t Stop the Music, the Village People-starring megaflop she says killed her career, but you can’t win them all).

She sounds fantastic. 

Gene Hackman has been retired for about 20 years. As of March, he was fit and healthy at age 93, spotted doing yardwork, buying and eating fast food, and pumping his own gas. 

Christopher Reeve died in 2004, after being paralyzed in 1995 in a horse-riding accident. 

Terence “General Zod” Stamp was one of the stars of “Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.” He played a drag queen named Bernadette. 

Sarah Douglas, who played Ursa, one of General Zod’s cronies, appeared in a lot of B science fiction movies and TV shows, including one called “Strippers vs. Werewolves.” 

Which Superman II?

We want to watch Superman II, which I remember as being even better than the first Superman, which was itself great. But which version?

Richard Donner directed the original movie and started directing on Superman II, but was fired, and Richard Lester was hired as a replacement. Donner had already done a lot of work, and Lester reshot many scenes and shot more. The Lester version was the original theatrical release, which I saw in theaters. We saw a fan cut of the Donner version in the early 2000s and did not care for it. It was unfinished. Some of the scenes were audition scenes; I remember some other scenes had cheap SFX that looked like they’d been done on 1990s home PCs.

Soon after we saw the fan cut of the Donner version, an official—and presumably more polished—version was released. We haven’t seen that.  

I think when we do a rewatch, we’ll go with the original, theatrical version, directed by Lester. According to Internet discussion—for example, here—the official Donner version, while more polished than the fan cut we watched, is still unpolished and unfinished. And the theatrical version is lighter than the Donner version, while still having some serious moments. Generally, I like my superhero movies light; when they get dramatic and heavy I start having difficulty suspending disbelief.

[wajjs]

BLOB'S MILLER TIME: BATMAN: YEAR ONE #1

Originally published one year after The Dark Knight Returns. Written as an attempt to revamp Batman's origin story after the event that was Crisis on Infinite Earths.

For an initial approach to the comic, you can check out the wikipedia page here.

Batman: Year one. Chapter one: WHO I AM / HOW I COME TO BE

Before delving into the comic itself, right from the start we are told the nature of the story that will be told. It will be a revision of a life that's been lived. The initial quote promises a story of greatness, of a hero who overcomes hardship and forges himself anew to fulfill his purpose.

Yet in the title itself of this first issue there's a dichotomy present: the different states of being bring forward the undercurrent of energy brought by the winds of change. The self of "who I am" has the potential to turn into the self it "comes to be".

Even when we are static, we are always changing -- even if in this case the character may be anything but static. This can be reminiscent of the philosophical debate about the nature of the being: is it endless and unchanging at its core (what changes is only the appearance), or is it in a state of permanent change that maintains the dynamic equilibrium of all beings?

The comic itself starts in media res. It begins with the end of a journey, having the incipit be the time and place of the story. And right off the bat (pun intended), we are already told that going to Gotham, being in Gotham, is akin to being sent to hell as punishment. It's what one deserves. It's self torture.

Aside from this, we are presented with the comic's binary pair: Jim Gordon / Bruce Wayne.

I say binary pair because they're both connected, and replacing one with the other would result in a simple inversion of the roles in their status quo. Their stories are also set up in a way that they complement each other, the actions in one serving as backdrop to the happenings in the other.

Aside from that, we are also presented with the idea of Gotham being smokes and mirrors, from afar offering an illusion of civilization and order. Meanwhile, from up close, traveling through it, what can be seen is the true nature of it: the chaos, the danger, the possible enemies that lurk around its streets, hide among the crowds.

The differences in their arrivals to Gotham don't end there. Bruce is native to it, while Jim is moving into it for the first time, and thus he experiences its gnarly nature as a newcomer. While Bruce is composed and arrives with perceived calmness to the airport, surrounded by glitz and glamour and paparazzi, Jim arrives to a packed train station while holding on for dear life to his luggage.

It's a pretty unsubtle nod to their differences in social classes, but the good thing about easy visuals is that they drive the point home faster.

After this, we immediately follow Jim's meeting with the police commissioner, a sketchy man named Loeb. We immediately know he's sketchy because we are treated to a single panel of a tv news show talking about Harvey Dent withdrawing conspiracy charges against Loeb, all after a key witness "mysteriously" disappears.

His corruption is hammered home in obvious ways via having him talk about keeping mistakes away from the media, or not worrying about police (in this case, Jim's) honesty.

As a side note, how many easter eggs/references are in this office? And what fucking kind of office is this?

There's a clown painting. A wine bottle shaped like a penguin, or a bird with a top hat. A traffic stop sign, with a fire hydrant right next to it. A sculpture of The Thinker, but sitting on the toilet. A SNOOPY LAMP.

What's most poignant, however, is the mirror and its shatter pattern that resembles a gunshot, placed right besides/behind Jim's head. This immediately lets us know that, even though he's a cop, Jim is not safe here. He has entered the viper's nest. It's not subtle, but it is still a good visual.

After the meeting is over, we get to see Jim being driven by a fellow coworker named Flass. And, in typical Miller "I do not know how to be subtle" fashion, we are now treated to the comic's first depiction of police brutality:

Here we are privy to Jim's impotence and his reluctance to get involved beyond being a witness to Flass' actions. He knows he can't act just yet. He's biding his time, learning the lay of the land. We are also given an understanding of his standing with the police force and the delicate position he's in: he has moved to Gotham because his past mistakes involved jumping the gun too soon without having enough information.

He knows he can't make the same mistake twice. This time, he's willing to bide his time, even if he does not like what comes with that.

Visually, and in stark contrast to Gordon's colorful and packed scenes, we are given in juxtaposition single panels showing Bruce's side of this story. They all lack color and action, and the rhythm of these scenes are significantly slower. This is the most poignant in this single panel that comes right after the scene of police brutality:

Bruce, alone, kneeling by the place where his parents lay in their final rest.

-

Time skip: it's now one month later in the story. February 12.

Jim's a Lieutenant now. The panels start with harsh action lines, with Jim and Flass inside a police car while they're speeding towards a crime scene. The dialogue shows the changes to how things were a month before: Jim is, from what we can tell, no longer a witness to the things that happen around him. He's cranking down on those around him, showing his teeth, so to speak, and thus jeopardizing his position.

Flass warns him that he needs to relax. It is pretty easy to infer that what Flass is telling Jim is that he needs to stop working so hard, or that he needs to start looking the other way.

Seeking actual justice may not be the way of Gotham PD.

There are three other time skips, the first two within the same month:

February 21: we are shown a short training montage, Rocky IV style. Bruce's appearances are still in juxtaposition to Jim's. Though this time they have color, they're still limited to one panel per action. This makes it so it looks like Bruce is moving slower, like he's taking his time to develop. And, narratively, that is exactly what's happening: while he's training, Bruce recognizes that there's something missing. There's something he has yet to obtain. He's not quite ready yet to make the jump into becoming Batman.

February 26: the build up of tension between Jim and Gotham PD is reaching it's zenith. Now, the corruption of Gotham's police force is in plain view, completely exposed for the viewer to see. The breaking point shows itself when Flass complains to the commissioner about Jim refusing to accept bribes and, instead, suspending other cops for accepting them. The commissioner asks Flass to wait before attacking Jim, to wait two weeks when he'll be gone for a conference.

March 11: Two important things happen:

Bruce makes his first moves into what will later allow him to become Batman. He assumes his first fake persona, dons his first mask.

Jim gets ambushed by the other cops and beaten up by them... as a warning. He sticks out like a sore thumb among the corruption of Gotham and its police force, and he has made a bigger target of himself by refusing to adapt to his new environment, by not letting himself become corrupted as well.

After the scene of the cops attacking Jim, and in something that's a first in this issue, we are now no longer shown all of what happens to Gordon, instead the story switches focus to Bruce and him making his way through the slums of Gotham.

The way he describes everything, it is easy to infer mild disgust coming from his character, as well as there being a clear view of "us" versus "them". Bruce is an outsider to these parts, and even when he tries to fit in, he still sticks out (he gets mistaken for a cop). He can't understand them. He sees them as completely different from what he is.

After getting propositioned by an underage prostitute, Bruce fights her pimp, defeating him easily while Selina Kyle watches on from her window right above the street. The fights, compared to Gordon's scenes, all seem to be moving in slow motion, matching the rhythm of Bruce's thoughts and how he's constantly in deep contemplation. Like he's viewing the world and what's happening around him through a glass that keeps him at least a degree detached from it all.

In the fight, he ends up bringing more attention to himself, failing his initial plans of just getting information and not getting involved in anything. He's attacked by the prostitutes, and he ends up breaking the wrist of the underage girl. This makes it so that Selina jumps from her window and intervenes, and Bruce still tries to reign himself in but ends up making a bigger mess of things:

While fighting with Selina, the cops get there. Bruce gets shot by one of them and he's bleeding severely, while the other cop complains that Bruce was following their order to 'freeze'. This is yet another scene in which we see cops represented in a less than good way, abusing their authority and being too trigger happy.

He's cuffed and shoved in the back of a police car, disoriented by the way he's losing blood fast, until he manages to break out of his handcuffs and attacks the cops from behind, making them crash. While the car is going up in flames, Bruce manages to escape, noting that the fire will reach the gas tank in seconds and only in passing thinking "they probably have families".

(The cops survive.)

He manages to get back to his car and drives away back to the Manor. This is when the point of view changes yet again, using the car as transition. From a closeup of Bruce's bloodied hand turning the key in the ignition to start the car, we are then immediately shown a beaten up Jim driving his police car with a baseball bat in the empty seat right next to him. He's asking about Flass' whereabouts using the police radio and confirming that he was indeed part of the group that came to "soften him up".

Interestingly, this is when Bruce and Gordon's paths actually cross for the first time:

This is also when Bruce finally finds that thing that he's been looking for, the final missing key to his mission:

The next following scenes are the culmination of the buildup that has been laid out throughout the entirety of this issue.

Jim gets his revenge. He waits patiently for Flass to come out of the house he's gambling in, lets him drive away until they're in a lone patch of the road, with no other cars passing by. Jim makes himself known, lets Flass know who he is, and then fights him, knocks him down quickly and efficiently, leaving him injured just enough to make him feel it while keeping him out of the hospital.

He then leaves him naked and cuffed by the side of the road, knowing that Flass won't report him. Knowing that he can count on Flass' pride for that part, and with this done they won't come for his wife, who is pregnant.

Jim now knows what he must do, and what it takes to stay alive in Gotham. What it takes to stay with his head above water in the middle of the corruption of the police force.

Meanwhile, on the other side of Gotham, we have Bruce who finally made it back home, who made it into his father's study and is now bleeding out in his father's chair. In the final scene of this issue, we are finally reaching the crescendo of Bruce's quest for his sense of self and sense of duty. He's finally hitting head on the questions he's been asking himself: what is he, what is he missing, what must he become in order to carry out his mission?

What is his "self"?

This is when we get a first answer to the question posed by the very title of the issue: who am I? How I come to be?

Aimless, without direction, what Bruce needed was a harsh impact with reality, with real life, outside of his contemplative thoughts and solitary training. He needed to almost fail -- no, he needed to be afraid to realize that fear is precisely the element that he's been looking for. That it is the key to the puzzle of who he's meant to be.

And, like this, Batman is finally born.

-

All in all, I think that this first issue is a good attempt at revisiting Batman's origin story. Having the point of view change from Jim to Bruce lets it become more agile to read, while also presenting interesting parallels: either new to Gotham or native to it, the city itself bares its teeth without discrimination to anyone. It's a dangerous place to be in, it is ruled by fear and corruption. And because of it, the self is challenged into either becoming complacent or refusing to become one with the nature of things.

Both Jim and Bruce refuse to give in, to give up on those things that form who they are, their convictions and beliefs. They both now fight an uphill battle. They believe that a change can be made, and so they will cling onto that thought come rain or come shine.

It is also refreshing that, as far as origin stories go, the death of Bruce's parents is only shown in quick flashbacks. Even if Bruce's narration is charged with melancholy and a constant contemplative state, he's moving forward. The past has helped define who he is now, but it does not trap him. He is who he must be in this present.

[marissapaul]

12/16 day 3: witches & the west: capitalist transitions

as a historian of the 19th and late 20th century i have a fair amount of experience with studying large scale economic shifts i.e. the shift to monopoly capitalism at the turn of the 20th century and then the turn of the 21st century shift to neoliberalism and globalization, but this is new territory for me. by the 1800s capitalist project of settler colonialism and the slave economy were well underway. of course, i was aware that capitalism and racism developed alongside one another, and that capitalism necessitates racism, and i was aware of the role that ireland played in the introduction of a racial other, but this was a much deeper dive into the shift from fuedalism to capitalism and i enjoyed it.

i want to spend time with corporeality first, since it plays a large role in today's readings. i was drawn to the line "we can see, in other words, that the human body and not the steam engine, and not even the clock, was the first machine developed by capitalism" (p. 143). that is such an interesting claim to make, one that i largely agree with. to me this chapter brought up the idea of "social death" from atlantic studies. the idea of social death was presented as a way to emphasize just how brutal the middle passage was in the atlantic slave trade, and what enslavers were hoping to accomplish. more recent historians have moved away from the term as a finite one, and more as a representation of what enslavers tried to do. because, as we see in the book's brief discussion of the caribbean, slavery and racism and white supremacy are not stable or preordained systems. in fact, they are quite instable. and while we didn't get particularly satisfying conversation about how successful capitalism was in turning bodies/minds into machines, i am sure this is something we will see as the course progresses. it is certainly true that no technology is perfect, and thus neither would this attempted hijacking of the human body be. nonetheless, i really appreciated this expanded discussion of alienation from one's body. marx was notoriously blind to women in his writings so while i think he came up with some great conversation starters, i am thoroughly interested in scholarship that pushes marxism forwards.

also in "the struggle against the rebel body" was a discussion of how magic kills industry. before reading further and seeing that there was an answer in the coming pages, my thoughts turned towards disney. i have such an odd relationship to disney and it all relates to this idea that "the revival of magical beliefs is possible today because it no longer represents a social threat" (p. 143). anyways, let me just explain my disney take, which of course is not mine alone, and is heavily influenced by the following media, the first of which is a documentary about the disney channel theme and the politics of citation and legacy, and the second is about andor, a recent star wars production that had an anti-capitalist message.

disney's legacy is a complicated one. it is a mega corporation that engages in monopolizing media. in the age of its acquisition of ip's like star wars and the marvel cinematic universe disney they have monopolized the vfx market, dramatically overworking and underpaying vfx artists who are responsible for the visual wonders of the mcu. every move that the corporation has made over the past decades has been in pursuit of more money and more power. yet there is a magic to disney at least for me. i have such fond memories of watching disney/pixar movies on vhs, of seeing the lion king musical, most of the tattoos on my left arm are inspired by disney creations. because while disney is in pursuit of money, the people storyboarding and animating these movies are very often working class people. the people doing the labor of filming, editing, and producing movies, of making disney parks an immersive experience are working class. and thus their world view slips into their work and so we live in this world where one of the biggest media monopolies on the planet is producing shows like andor which lean into anti-capitalism, and movies like wakanda forever which have real and important things to say about grief, and movies like luca which is almost assuredly about two gay italian boys falling in love. these stories have meaning to me, because the people that worked on them did so with love and with the perspective from which they create art. so while disney as a corporation is abhorrent, the workers of disney are able to create magic. and i think that magic can still be subversive and powerful. just look at the context surrounding the release of the first black panther movie. the movie was released in the wake of trump's election and amidst a rise in public-facing alt right violence. and in that moment, ryan coogler and the cast and crew were able to create such a beautiful cultural touchstone for the Black diaspora.

sociologists in recent years have begun to talk about the outcomes of social movements rather than if they were objectively successful or not. i think that we should apply the same kinds of thinking to magic and to art that is created even for corporations. the black panther may not have convinced its entire audience to join in the fight against colonialism and towards black liberation but it was a piece towards creating a culture in which the 2020 black lives matter movement would be a significant demonstration of multi-cultural and cross-racial alliance - something that has been historically incredibly difficult to organize. indeed, today's readings talk about this as early capitalists were well aware that in order to justify the existence of a lower working class, they were going to have to divide up the proletariat, and thus we end up with race-based slavery. this is not a short fight, and changing hearts where we can is sometimes all we can do as we work towards liberation.

i just read a great book, border bodies by Bernadine Hernandez, which expands on the concepts presented in today's reading. in this book Hernandez explains that mexicanas/chicanas were not only integral to capitalism because of their ability to reproduce, but also because the act of sex was actively utilized (forcibly) for building a capitalist economy. this happened through the leveraging of daughters as economic capital via marriage, through sex work, and through debt peonage in the 19th century in greater/northern mexico. would definitely recommend for people invested in borderlands studies.

i don't have as many cultural touchstones to point to for today because this is new territory for me so i'll just offer up this album to the class, as it is what i listened to as i read and reflected for today.

[multifandomimagines]

Obvious - A Kai Parker Imagine

Characters: Kai Parker x Reader

Word Count: 2285

Summary: Kai and the reader go to a party at the Salvatore house, but they can’t keep their hands off each other.

Warnings: Alcohol, suggestive comments, making out

Written by: Josie

A/N: First imagine! Really hope you guys like it, we’ll be posting more like this soon so be sure to check out our page to help us get going! x

Disclaimer: Gif isn’t ours - credit to who it belongs to.

Kai and Y/N didn’t have what was known as a typically conventional relationship. A witch with unlimited power and a somewhat insane siphon, both with a thirst for chaos and excitement? I mean, causing mayhem together isn’t usually on most people’s date night ideas list.

The Salvatore house was once again home to a massive Friday night party, courtesy of Caroline Forbes’ charm over Stefan, who reluctantly agreed to let her use their house as the venue. Only one of the couple was technically invited, as Y/N was best friends with the hostess. The others weren’t exactly thrilled at Kai appearing by her side with a wide grin when they arrived, but they wouldn’t object. For now at least. Not when he brought enough snacks and drinks for at least ten people.

A few drinks later, and the two witches were almost ready to let loose on the unsuspecting partygoers. What they were planning wasn’t quite as extreme as Kai would have wanted, but Y/N was able to convince him of something both fun, and that wouldn’t kill her friends or land them in a magical coma of sorts.

“Come on,” Y/N giggled as she dragged her boyfriend by the hand away from the snack table and toward the middle of the room. Kai eyed the food with longing as he was taken away from it like he was being torn from his soulmate. He kind of was, really. “Dance with me.”

Turning back to his girl, he raised an eyebrow at her flushed expression. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Only enough to give me confidence,” She turned to face him when she reached her destination in the middle of the crowd, having forced herself and Kai through various sweaty bodies. Kai got smacked in the face by a dancing drunk blonde on the way, but Y/N’s grip on his hand was too strong to give him the chance to get angry at her.

Kai smiled and pulled her close as she wrapped her arms round his neck, beaming up at him. “I thought you wanted to cause some trouble?” He smirked, leaning close as he spoke. Y/N was already a little tipsy, but having him this close made her feel completely intoxicated. He was stronger than any alcohol she could drink, and she never got hungover after a hit of him, she only wanted more.

“I do, but can’t we just act like normal people at a party for a bit? And besides, I like this song!” She swayed with him as the bass boomed through the speakers, making it all the more intense.

“You know I’m not all that much of a dancer.” Kai chuckled at her moves; she was so carefree once she let herself go and her smile was enough to pull at the corner of his lips.

“You liar,” She hit lightly at his chest and looked up at him with a challenging fire in her eyes. “You dance all the time at home.”

“Okay yeah, but that’s not in front of everyone else,” His eyes drifted behind her as she cocked her head in confusion. “And your friends are watching us.”

Y/N turned her head to the side, still latched onto her boyfriend, and caught Damon and Elena keeping a watchful (and definitely judging) eye on the couple. Rolling her eyes, she turned back to Kai. “Let them,” She spoke, reeling him in with her gaze. He was basically putty in her hand. “Just pretend we’re back at home, dancing in the living room, just like we do at the weekends.”

A smile crept its way back onto Kai’s lips as the memory flashed against his mind. Saturday nights were traditionally romantic - they’d cook dinner together, cuddle on the sofa and watch tv, then afterwards he’d always somehow end up twirling her around the room with the lights dimmed until they couldn’t dance anymore, and he’d carry her upstairs to bed.

“Unless,” Her voice by his ear pulled him out of his reverie, looking forward to tomorrow’s date night and thinking about how well he was going to treat her. “You fancied going somewhere else?”

The hair on the back of his neck pricked up at her words, eyes snapping to hers, pupils dilated. His signature smirk appeared, quickly melting her down. “You know me so well.”

Grabbing her wrist, their roles were reversed as he dragged her out of the crowd this time, eyes darting quickly as they searched for somewhere to hide.

“Here,” Y/N said, pointing to a small storage cupboard. “No one ever comes in here.”

“Well then,” Kai said, pushing her inside and closing the door behind them. “You’ll be the first.”

In a flash, she was slammed against the door as Kai’s lips moulded with hers in desperation. He had needed this all night. He might be an expert at hiding it, since emotions had never really bothered him before, but the critical gazes of her friends made him uncomfortable. They made him start questioning every move he made, just because he wanted Y/N’s friends to approve of him and be happy that she’s with him. Kai Parker would never let stupid emotions get to him. Not like love. At least, not until her.

She sighed into his mouth as he took her breath away, her hands gripping his hair tightly while his held her waist firmly in place. His fingers slowly trailed up her shirt, brushing the skin underneath, making her shiver. Breathing heavily, her hands found their way to his chest as he pulled away from the kiss and moved his lips to her neck.

“Eager, are we?” She giggled, her voice thin from the exhilaration. She felt Kai chuckle in response against her skin, sending a tingling sensation through her veins.

“Impatient, actually. I want you now.” Kai trailed his lips down to her collarbone, and back up to her jawline.

Y/N was finding it harder and harder to think straight as Kai pulled away, his fingers tracing the faint marks he’d left on her neck. I’ll definitely have to add to these later, he thought. “What about the plan? Still want to cause a little chaos?”

Kai’s hand that was on her neck moved behind and into her hair, her head automatically tilting up to make capturing his lips easier. “To hell with the plan.”

Leaning in for another heated kiss, their lips had barely met when the door of the storage cupboard swung open and the two of them fell to the ground with a good thump, Y/N groaning as Kai’s whole body weight crushed her.

“Seriously?” Caroline stood over the couple with her hands on her hips, looking mostly irritated yet somewhat amused. The twinkle behind her eye when she looked at Y/N gave that away - she was always the most supportive of her dating Kai.

The female witch glanced sheepishly up at her friend, lightly shoving Kai to the side. The siphon didn’t even want to make eye contact with the blonde vampire. He was yet to familiarise himself with how to deal with awkward.

“Y/N, I thought I said making out in dingy cupboards was off-limits! Raise your standards,” Caroline eyed her friend, the ghost of a smirk lingering on her lips. After looking briefly at Kai’s embarrassed expression, she leaned in closer to Y/N and whispered, “If you guys want to have some fun then just leave. The party’s starting to clear out now anyway, and it’ll be a lot more fun than in a dusty old closet.”

She winked at her and strutted back into the crowd, not before giving Kai a light pat on the shoulder on her way past. She was right, the crowd was slightly smaller than before.

“God,” Kai sighed. “That was awful. I don’t like awkward, it’s my least favourite emotion so far.”

Y/N laughed at her boyfriend; he still discovers himself experiencing new emotions all the time, and she finds it oh so endearing to see how he reacts to the foreign feeling. “Well if anyone was to catch us, I’m glad it was Caroline.”

The tall boy looked at the girl he thought was an angel, although she didn’t quite see herself that way. Sometimes that made him sad, another feeling he didn’t particularly enjoy. “Let’s just get out of here,” He said, taking her hand and intertwining their fingers, something she always loved. “Bring the party back home, just you and me. We can pick up where we left off and no one will even notice we’re gone.”

Y/N grinned, happy that they were always on the same page. She took a step forward, watching as Kai’s eyes lit up more and more the closer she got to him. Their sparkle seemed to be directly proportional to his distance from her. “You just read my mind.”

It wasn’t long until Kai was driving his silver car back to their shared apartment, one hand on her thigh as it always was. She was his comfort blanket no matter what, and physical touch was Kai’s love language, so even when driving he craved some contact with her to keep himself sane.

Mostly sane anyway.

Eventually, they returned to the warmth of their apartment and wasted no time in latching onto each other. See, that was the thing about Y/N and Kai. She might be his comfort blanket, but he was hers too. When they’re apart it feels like two separate parts of a magnet, aching to be able to touch, see, feel the other, so when that ache is satisfied, it’s like a force unlike any other, and pulling them apart proves difficult as neither of them wants to ever be away from the other.

Their love for each other was obvious, you’d have to be blind not to see it. The only reason Y/N’s friends tolerated Kai was because they couldn’t deny the clear adoration and care he had for her. They’d tell her Y/N, he can’t be trusted, he doesn’t feel, he can’t feel love, but when you witness a love like they have, how could you ignore it? They’d almost come to a silent truce: Kai stays out of trouble and never hurts Y/N, and they’d leave him be. It worked for them.

What they had said about him not feeling love was true though, before. Kai thought that love was a wasted feeling - relationships crash and burn everyday, he’d said once, so why would he let it waste his time if he can’t one hundred percent confirm that it would be for life? Y/N came into his life like a wildfire spreading through dry forest, this new and unusual feeling coursing through him at an alarming pace, and it made him want to scream. He couldn’t understand why he was unable to shake this one girl out of his head, it was distracting him and he couldn’t concentrate, it was a nuisance.

But as time went on and he started wanting to make sure she was safe and happy, it became less and less of a burden to him. In fact, he started to revel in it. Any excuse he could find to see her, he’d take it. Any chance to protect her, he’d be there in an instant. He actually started to care, which baffled him at first because Kai Parker doesn’t care. But as he looked at her then, wind blowing her hair around her face, he didn’t mind it. Maybe caring wasn’t so bad, if it was this one girl he cared about. He decided then that he would dedicate all his emotion to her, all his care, all his time, all his love.

Love. When Kai realised he was in love, he wasn’t sure if he was awake or dreaming. Love was pointless, he told himself so. But he couldn’t bring himself to lie to himself any longer. It may have been pointless to him back then, but not now. Now, his whole reason for living was to make this one girl happy, this one girl who had managed to change a man so set in his old toxic ways. He loved her.

Y/N wasn’t sure if she’d ever definitely know that she was in love. I mean, how can you really know? Everyone’s experiences with love are different, and all relationships vary, so there’s not one set formula for it. Love is complex, and that was scary to her, because she didn’t want to let someone in thinking they’re her soulmate, and they end up breaking her heart. She’d made that mistake before, and she didn’t want to let the wrong person get to her again. But with Kai, there wasn’t a single question or doubt in her mind. This, this was what love was supposed to feel like. All that fear of allowing the wrong person into her heart had vanished in an instant, because she knew there would be no one else ever again now that she had Kai. He had taken up residence in her mind and there was no space for anyone else. He was her person, she knew, it was obvious. She loved him.

Back in the apartment with the two of them getting lost in each other, those intense feelings resurfaced. In that moment, it was just the two of them: no problems, no death, no prison worlds. Only the crystal clear love they had for each other that everyone could see. It even got them a bit of a reputation in the local supernatural community as the couple that defeated all odds.

The sociopath who learned to fall in love, and the witch that taught him how.

[capt-spooki3]

By The Witch's Grace

Route Unlocked: Wilbur

Chapter Four: One on One

A Sbi "choose your own story" fanfiction

Click here for story description

Warnings: cursing, description of anxiety, light angst, injuries, blood, talk of scars

4.7k words

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Y/n stepped down the stairs on the porch, they decided on going to see what Wilbur was doing since he was sitting next to the house. As they walked down the last step, they had turned to say hello to him but Wilbur had already hopped up with the guitar in hand and a big smile on his face when he saw them.

“Hey! Uh Y/n, good morning, I was going to ask if you could help teach me guitar?” He held the instrument up in his hands, gently like he was afraid to break it. “You seem like you’d be a good teacher.”

They looked him over and couldn’t help a smile and giggle at his gentleness.

“Yeah, I would love to teach you, here let’s go to the basement. I have my music books down there and we can get started teaching you some scales.” They offered to him, walking over to guide him to the lower doors on the home, and his eyes lit up as he followed them with excitement.

“I have to warn you though, it’s been a year or two since I’ve played anything, so I might not be as great of a teacher as you think.” They said while keeping the door held open for him to walk inside after them.

“You know more than me at least. I think that will make you a fine enough teacher” He spoke with an obvious smile in his voice, closing the door so he could follow after them and stopping only when Poppy ran up to him with a loud meow so he took a couple of moments to pet her. “I gotta go, sorry sweetie.”

Y/n jogged down the stairs, glancing back to see if Wilbur was behind but heard the soft meow of Poppy and figured he was giving her attention. They walked over to the bookcase filled with music books, all of them being hand-me-downs from the old woman from town that was practically their family now. She didn’t have any children of her own so Y/n simply took up the role for her so they inherited all of the music-related things they had. She was too busy to ever use it and happily gave it away when Y/n showed interest, but not before teaching them how to play.

They hummed while looking over the books, trying to find the one they knew had beginner information in it when Wilbur hurriedly joined them downstairs. They gave him a quick glance, seeing Poppy trailing right behind and tail held up high.

“Aww… she really likes you, Wilbur.”

He glanced back at the cat and smiled. “Yeah, well I really like…” He trailed off and slowly closed his mouth, clearly regretting the words he wanted to say. “Uhm, anyway, how do you... start learning this stuff?”

Y/n grabbed a book off the shelf and turned to face him, taking slow steps toward him as they flipped through pages and glanced over them. “Well, I watched my teacher play a few songs and had her teach me how to play the songs she did. That probably isn’t the best way to learn, but I think it worked pretty well.” They shut the book with a loud thump and extended it to him.

“If you want to learn chords and stuff first though, we can do that. Just whatever you think would be easiest for you to understand.”

He quickly set down the guitar to lean against a chair then took the book from them and opened it up, looking at the pages and trying to see if anything looked familiar or if it made any sense. Of course, it didn’t. It just looked like bunches of weird words and symbols that didn’t mean anything to him.

“I think… I’d like to hear you play.” He glanced up to meet their eyes then back to the book with a laugh. “‘Cause uh, this just looks like a mess of words.”

“Fair enough,” They started as they walked over to grab the guitar from beside him. “Honestly it took me a while to understand all that musical lingo too so I don’t blame you for wanting to start here.” They plopped down in the chair that was beside his and took the small wooden pick from between the strings on the neck of the instrument and strummed a couple of times before needing to tune a few strings.

Wilbur sat down, watching them for a moment before he focused on the book and read through a few pages while Y/n got the guitar in tune. They gave it a couple more strums before nodding their head in contentment with remembering how to get it in tune and situated it on their lap so they could play.

“Okay, I think I’m all ready. So the song I’m going to play is the first one I was taught. I can’t-” They laughed out of a bit of embarrassment, putting their fingers on the right strings. “I can’t remember who wrote it, but it was called Rounds. Now let’s see here...”

-

(cue Rounds by The Oh Hellos)

-

They strummed the chords, seeming a bit unconfident as they were afraid of messing up after not playing for so long. A good few times of repeating the same lines of music, they swayed slowly from side to side as they finally got into it.

They were so busy making sure they wouldn’t mess up that they didn’t notice Wilbur, who had long abandoned the book and was sitting as close to the side of the chair nearest to them to watch. He was leaned forward but slouched a bit since he was resting on his elbows though his eyes watched their hands move to make each new bit of sound. He didn’t miss the chance to sneak glances at their face while they were completely concentrated and not worried about him.

Y/n started to hum a soft tune along with the music, to which they didn’t even notice Wilbur softly joining in with a smile. Even as they hummed louder, loudening the strums as well, he remained undetected as he harmonized with them.

They changed the chords, dying it down, and stopped humming which indicated a change to the course of the song. They let out a breath before taking in a deep one and with the final two strums, they started.

“Am I still speaking?” They straightened and flicked their attention to Wilbur who sung the words along with them, he had a soft smile and a look of pure contentment. They couldn’t help but smile a little back at him, more in surprise than anything. They had to glance back to make sure their fingering was right but looked back at him to make sure it was really him singing with them.

“Yeah, I’m long in the wind.” He dipped his head down a bit, then looked away but continued to sing. “I’ll go on and on and on again, if my chest don't cave in.”

They cut the strum short with their palm and he looked back at them, confused. “You know this song!? There’s no way.”

“Oh really? Well, what about if I…” He averted his gaze, thinking for a moment before looking back to sing again. “Be the sun as my witness! Better prophets could pen. A thousand words for every chord I could ever begin.”

“No way…”

He giggled a little at their astonishment. “That’s my favorite verse.”

"Well, now you've gotta tell me where you learned that." Y/n eyed him with a smile before turning back to the guitar as they played over some of the later parts in the song, but still casting little glances as they waited for him to speak.

"One of the maids back at the castle actually, she was like a second mother after Kristen passed, she sang that song a lot. I helped clean clothes when I wasn't on duty or training." He explained, sitting up and leaning back in the chair but still watching Y/n. "I didn’t know there was music to it though, your humming kinda shot the memory back into me."

“So you know the whole thing?”

“I believe so, why?”

They stopped playing random chords and turned their body to him so he could fully see the guitar this time. “Let’s start again. Watch my hands okay?” With a smile at him, they looked back at the strings and started the song over again but with more confidence. They tapped their foot to the beat this playthrough of the song to keep themself in time.

They played through the song flawlessly, but Wilbur was unsatisfied as he didn’t have the chords down. So they played through it again and again. By the fourth time they ended the song, Wilbur was sitting crisscrossed in the chair, hands in his hair with a confused and completely lost look on his face from not retaining any of what they played enough to try for himself. Y/n laughed to themself and stood up, stretching their body from sitting in the same position for so long.

“Okay, I have an idea if you’re comfortable with it.” They looked down to him as he messed up his hair, smoothing it all down, and watched them curiously. “I can sit on the ground with you, so it’d be easier to help, and direct your hands. We can take it chord by chord, but it’s pretty repetitive so I think you’ll do good with it.”

“Absolutely because I am so lost. Like how do you memorize this stuff? I could never.” He said while moving off the chair to sit on the rug just under the chairs.

“You’ll get it, don't worry. I swear it’s not as hard as you might think once you play enough.” They sat down right in front of him and handed him the guitar. He took it slowly and held it awkwardly, obviously very unsure of how he should be holding it. Holding back on giggling, they scooted closer and guided his hands and the instrument to its proper placements then let him get comfortable with holding it.

“Ready?”

He glanced up at them then back down to his hands and the guitar, nodding a little bit. “Yeah… yeah, I think so.”

With that, they directed him on where to put his fingers for each chord and when he needed it, moved his hands themself or held their hand over his so he could get a feel on how to hold it. They were incredibly patient with him even with his ever so often apology for not being the fastest learner, he was trying hard to understand and remember how to play each chord they taught him. It got easier when they got into the system to teach him one chord then play the chords he knows to revise them all in a way. And after a while, he had all the needed notes down for the entire song.

“Wait, that's it? I did it?” Wilbur sat up straight and when they nodded, he gasped and smiled before moving closer so their knees were touching. “Okay, okay teach me how it goes, I’m ready!”

“Okay! Okay,” They stopped to giggle and thought for a second to make sure they told him the right notes.

The song slowly came together, it was slower than it should be played and he messed up quite a bit but none of it discouraged him. Wilbur never once got frustrated and would just silently correct himself and look for affirmation that he did well. And once he got comfortable with the song and played through it completely, Y/n sang softly to put it all together. Needless to say, he got distracted by them and when he tried to recover, fumbled with the strings and grew flustered by his obvious nervousness. 

He let out a soft sigh, staring at the strings and very clearly thinking or seeming like he wanted to speak.

“Are you okay?” They leaned down to get into his view to which he looked at them and back at the guitar, smiling with a little laugh.

“Yeah, yeah I was just thinking… you know if you were a musical term, I think melody would fit you best.”

“You think?” He nodded confidently. “Well explain then, why would I be the melody?”

“Well truthfully, you just remind me of music. Like the parts of it that can be addicting but also more soothing than anything else, even the part of it that moves you to your core.” He met their eyes, holding the contact as he tipped his head to the side. “Yeah… just the embodiment of music. But if you were to fit somewhere specifically it would be the melody.”

They opened their mouth to ask him another question so he could talk about this more, but the sound of the front door opening and closing caught both of their attention with Phil’s voice following after.

“Y/n? Wilbur?”

“Down here!” Y/n called, leaning back to look over at the stairs. Phil made his way down the stairs and stalled as he looked over the scene of the two but just smiled.

“Hey, I’m going to start cooking. You two take a break and come help me, alright?” He told them before heading back up the stairs. Poppy, who had been fast asleep in one of the plush chairs, had perked up when hearing Phil and jumped off and ran past Y/n and Wilbur to follow him upstairs. They both put away the couple of things they got out before walking upstairs and to the kitchen.

“But seriously Wilbur, you’re doing really well. You kept going strong no matter how many times you messed up. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you Y/n, maybe I’ll get better than you.” He teased, shoving them lightly with his shoulder and earning a shove right back before they walked ahead of him to see Phil. He was already busy dicing an onion with some meat already cooking.

Phil looked back when the two approached him but quickly turned back to watch his hands. “What were you two up to? It looked like you were teaching Wilbur guitar.”

“They were and I have to say,” Wilbur leaned on the counter beside Phil. “I think I’m doing pretty well. In all honesty, I think I might be a melomaniac.” He looked over at Y/n and looked them up and down with a smile, but turned back to Phil and talked about whenever he found interesting from learning to play the guitar as if what he did never happened. 

-

“Come on, just look through it with me please!!” Wilbur begged Y/n, walking around in front of them to stop them from walking out the door as he held a thick book in hand.

The whole morning he had been trying to get Y/n to tell him what their favorite song was and as soon as he got the dreaded ‘I don’t know’ he raced to find the biggest music book he could so they could find one to show him. They were supposed to go practice magic with Phil as soon as they were done eating and didn’t want to leave him waiting any longer than they had to.

“I’m sorry, I can’t right now. Look I will once I’m done I promise!” They pushed his arm gently to get him to move, but all they got was a pout out of him. They rolled their eyes and sighed, taking a step back. “Okay um, I remember a song in one of those books. It was one of my favorites to play. Uh, one of the lines was… ‘days fade into a watercolor blur’ but I can't remember the name right now, can I go?”

“Yes! Absolutely, thank you my melody, I hope your magic lessons go well!” He patted their back before he raced off past them and assumably down to the basement, leaving them very caught off guard.

“Melody..?” They stood there thinking for a moment, but shook it off and headed out of the door to find Phil. He said he’d be sitting with the chickens that morning so obviously, that was their first place to look. Just as expected, he was sitting in the dirt with a rooster in his lap and a few of the rooster’s hens hanging around. Phil glanced up and when noticing Y/n he smiled and waved them over.

“Hey! Sorry, I meant to be here sooner but Wilbur was insistent that I show him my favorite song from my music books.” They explained, walking slower when they neared Phil as to not disturb the chickens and sat down in front of him.

He chuckled and watched the rooster as he pets him. “That’s quite alright mate. He’s really taken a  liking to you, I’m sure you’ve already been able to tell though.” He just smiled fondly, taking in a deep breath. “He never has been one for keeping his feelings hidden away, just like with Sally, the poor boy wears his heart on his sleeve. I bet he doesn’t even realize, he probably thinks he’s being so sly.”

Y/n laughed a little bit at his assessment. Phil was spot on, but after raising someone it wouldn’t be too hard to know all about them. They reached out when a hen came out to them and stroked the side of her face with their finger. “He’s sweet though, I didn’t expect him to be so eager to take up all my time.”

“Well…” They looked up at Phil when he trailed off then followed his eyes when he looked over to the house. They then noticed Technoblade sitting beside the house, obviously meditating. “In case you get tired of Will, you can always go give Techno some company. I think he’d like your presence.” Turning back to Phil, he watched them with a hopeful expression but dropped it when they just stared at him. He slowly got up, giving the rooster time to hop off his lap.

“You don’t have to for my sake, I just think it would do him good to have a partner- er uh-” He stopped, fumbling over words a little bit. “I mean- like a friend. A companion. But choose who you wish! I’m not picking sides here.” A blatant lie. They couldn’t help but laugh at him.

Y/n stood up, assuming Phil wanted to move somewhere else. “Of course, Of course. I think it would be hard to get tired of him though.” They watched the hen they were giving attention peck around on the ground near their feet. “He’s giving me a new found passion for music because of his excitement towards it, it’s refreshing.”

He chuckled softly, walking past them and patting their shoulder. They turned to follow him and stayed quiet while they walked slightly behind him but at his side. He stopped at the tree line and looked in, seeming a bit lost in thought, and turned to them after a moment.

“Y/n, would you mind telling me about the eye?”

They went quiet, not sure how to respond as the light heartedness of the situation was stripped from them at the mention. Instead, they looked down at the necklace which forever hung around their neck. At this point, it felt more like something chaining them down than a tool to help them be a better mage like they hoped it would be. “Where do I even start?” They tried to laugh off the lump rising in their throat but looking up and meeting Phil’s worried expression just made tears prick their eyes. He took a step closer to them, but they took a few back in response. “No, no I’m fine just… I’m okay.” They kept their eyes on the ground, sniffling as they felt a tear run down their cheek.

“Mate, we don’t have to talk about it if it’s hard to.” Phil said softly, keeping his distance from them.

“It just… made me realize how afraid it made me. It's…” They looked up suddenly, still having tears in their eyes. “Phil, it’s taken over me. It’s- it’s possessed me! I was so scared when it happened. I mean it has only happened twice but what happens when it does again!? I don’t- I-I don’t know…” Their breaths got caught in their throat and they took short shuddering gasps trying their hardest to contain it and not break down. Not here, not in front of someone they just started to know and trust. They felt their legs start to get weak and their vision was nothing but a blur from the tears.

Phil grabbed ahold of their arms and they met his eyes, now noticing how hard they were breathing. He pulled them in and hugged them tightly to which they held onto him, using him as a solid form to help them ground themself again. They mumbled small things about how scary it was to wake up halfway down their forest path to town and how they could feel the evilness of the eye right before it took over. He stayed quiet and listened to them, rubbing their back slowly once they had calmed down a little.

They took a deep breath and rested their forehead against his shoulder. Finally releasing a little bit of the pent-up fear and anxiety that was building up around the eye had lifted the static that festered in their chest. “Phil…” Y/n said quietly as they slowly pulled away from him though they kept their eyes averted away. “Is there anything I can do to get rid of this?”

“I…” He started but trailed off. It was clear he was clueless, still, he cleared his throat and reached over to rub their arm comfortingly. “I’ll figure something out. I promise.” They looked back at him and he smiled at them which finally earned a small smile in return. “Do you still want to learn some magic? I know some music-related spells.” When their eyes lit up a bit, he chuckled and took a seat on the ground, ushering them to join him.

Y/n spent most of the day outside with Phil. He taught them little spells and tricks to incorporate magic into their music, he sang a few songs as a way to show them and it turned out he had a rather nice voice. A few times when they got caught up in emotions, he offered fatherly advice and joked with them to lighten the mood. He was quickly growing to be like the father they never had… or at least remembered having. It was until he was in the middle of meditating with them that Tommy came up to them, he was dirty and holding onto his forearm with a bit of blood that was seeping through his fingers. Y/n saw him first as they opened an eye when hearing footsteps approaching them. He kept his eyes on the ground, clearly trying to make it seem like he didn’t have tears in his eyes.

They jumped up and ran over to him, startling Phil who finally noticed his son. “Oh, Tommy what happened!?” They reached over to look at his arm, he pulled away at first and they looked at him. He met their eyes and sniffled again, finally letting his arm go to show them a deep cut that was actively bleeding. “Oh my gosh, are you okay? You’re not hurt anywhere else are you?” They asked him while taking off the cloth they were using as a belt and wrapped it around his arm to help maintain the bleeding and checked him over right after. Phil was beside them now, looking Tommy over while he stared at the ground.

“I didn’t think the sheep could actually be that scary, I-” He hiccuped a little, squeezing his eyes shut to stop himself from crying more but they fell anyway. It seemed that getting hurt overwhelmed him. Phil brushed some of his hair back and softly consoled him to calm him down. It took a moment, but he started talking again. “I was messing with them and tried getting on one’s back, it bucked me off and that upset a few of them and they ran at me. I was running away and tried jumping over the fence and that… obviously didn’t go well for me.”

“Aw… yeah it’s barbed wire. Let’s get you inside, I can help you clean this-”

“It’ll take too long, it’ll get infected if we let it be.” Phil butted in and moved Y/n’s hands off of Tommy’s arm. He undid the cloth that was thoroughly bloody now and gave it back to Y/n. He gently put his hand over the cut and kept it there as it glowed a soft white, within no time he took it away and the wound had closed up enough that it wasn’t open. “You’ll still need to clean it but-”

“Oooh! It’s been forever since you’ve done that, that was so cool!” Tommy said excitedly, his eyes and nose were still a little red from crying, but he was smiling and looking at Phil with bright eyes like he wasn’t upset just a second ago. “Can you do that again?”

“Wha- no! You’d have to get hurt again for me to do that- and do not go get trampled by the sheep or some shit.” He sighed, lightly laughing. “You little shit- are you alright though? You’re not hurt anywhere else right?”

Tommy shook his head and looked down at his arm, wiping away some of the half-dried blood that only smeared more from the blood on his hand. “I probably have some bruises, but now I just smell like shit.” Phil laughed and went around him, patting his back and pushing him forward to get him to start walking back to the house to which Y/n followed right beside.

Techno seemed to know something was up as he put down the wooden staff he was training with and hurried over to the three of them. “Did something happen?” He immediately noticed the blood on Tommy and grabbed his shoulder to stop him and looked him over.

“He’s fine, mate, don’t worry. I healed him up, he’s okay.” Phil said in a hurry to cure Techno’s worry. 

“Haha yeah bitch, now I’ll have a badass scar like you.” Tommy said with a smug look, but Techno just rolled his eyes and gave him a little shove.

“It’s only badass if you have a cool story behind it.” He corrected and held his head up to look down at his brother. “What’s your super cool story behind it?”

Tommy puffed his chest out and stood tall to try and seem as big as Technoblade. “Yeah, well I had to fight off all the sheep in the pastu-”

“Okay! Nope, inside with you!” Y/n grabbed his arm and pulled him away and toward the steps of the porch. “You two can continue your little… whatever this is inside, you need to get cleaned up.”

He groaned and made a face at them. “Yeah okay, MOM.” He snickered and rushed inside with Phil following after with a smile. They followed the two, watching Techno jog over to grab the staff he left before he started walking back to the house.

Y/n grabbed herbs and soap once they got into the house and helped Tommy clean himself up before they sent him off to bathe. They washed the blood off of their belt the best they could before they went back downstairs to put away their things by themself before hearing a knock on the wall. Turning around, there was Wilbur beside the stairs watching them.

“Hey there.” He started with a bit of a smile and walked over to them to watch where they were putting everything. “Um, once you’re done, want to come see what I’ve learned today?” He watched them expectantly and they couldn’t help a smile. They reached into a barrel and pulled out two apples, throwing one to him without warning though he still caught it.

“Yeah, let’s go. Bet you’re still not as good as me.” They walked past him and nudged him with their shoulder playfully. He chuckled and followed behind with a poke to their arm.

“Mmm yeah we’ll see about that, won’t we”

___________________________________________

taglist:

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[maddieinwonder]

The Eighth

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None, this is a fluff-only zone!

Word Count: 2.3k

Plot: Reader has been in the BAU for one year and a lot has changed, especially her relationship with a certain genius. (Part 1 here!)

Author's Note: Seriously, I wasn't expecting my first two fics to blow up like that. Just, thank you to everyone who read them ♡♡♡

As for this one... I had to write a Part 2, basically as an excuse for me to write good things about everybody in the BAU and go wild with the backstories hahaha I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

--------------

Under the dim lighting of the BAU jet, your pen paused on the small book beneath it, causing a small blotch of ink to seep through its pages. The words usually flowed out of you without inhibition, but today was different, and frankly, you were feeling a little overwhelmed.

You didn't think the team would remember this, but today marked exactly one year since you joined the BAU. As if the universe were smiling down on you, the week also turned out to be a great one - or at least, as good as it could get around here.

The team had just closed a challenging case with minimal casualties, everyone had been ordered to have a long weekend off, and the person you most wanted to spend it with was dozing off beside you without a care in the world. Of course, he didn’t know about your feelings... yet.

Closing your journal, you gave up on writing as your eyes wandered restlessly toward your sleeping teammates.

Your eyes crinkled into a smile when your gaze landed on Hotch. This was the first time you’d seen him actually asleep on the jet, and in your opinion, he deserved whatever rest he could get. Since you joined the team, you had seen the man endure countless late nights in the office. Something you had quickly attributed to the missing wedding ring on his finger.

Yet, he remained a stalwart to the team. He constantly checked in with everybody, shielded the team from messy politics, and even managed to crack the occasional joke. Of course, he was still stoic most of the time, and you weren’t exactly sure if he was capable of blinking, but now you knew the warmth and care he possessed too.

Then there was Rossi, who had defied all your initial expectations. You had thought a celebrity like him to be gracious, maybe a little egoistic, but he was straight forward and meticulous to a fault. Still, it seemed he couldn't escape his nature as a performer, as he shone the brightest in the interrogation room.

The day you first witnessed him in action, your jaw had dropped to the floor, and he never stopped bringing it up in jest. He always joked that he didn't know whether you or the unsub was more shocked, but after that day, he also took the time to mentor you in the craft. You liked to think he was proud of how quickly you were able to put it into practice.

Your eyes wandered to Emily, sleeping soundly in the next seat. With Penelope and JJ’s busy schedules, she had taken on the role of showing you the ropes, and you had become fast friends. Turns out, the both of you were eerily similar: competitive, quick thinkers who never backed down from a challenge.

Unfortunately this meant you were never paired together on cases, but you did have an ongoing chess tournament slash drinking game. The chess was your idea, the drinking was Emily’s, and you were currently winning, much to your obvious pride and the rest of the team's amusement.

The person you actually got paired with the most was Derek; effectively fulfilling the fantasies of many women you knew. But as it turned out, the two of you made a damn good team. His calculated disposition combined with your breadth of knowledge - only rivalled by the good doctor - made you an extremely effective duo, and Hotch picked up on it immediately.

You being younger than him by a few years, Derek made it a point to check in with you often, and in turn, allowing you to glimpse at his pensive, empathetic, and insightful sides. He had become a big brother to you, and you like a sister. A bond that proved to be a strong one, across the many cases you tackled together.

You smiled to yourself, eyes landing on Penelope and JJ, dozing off together under a bright pink, knitted blanket whose ownership was in no doubt. It was rare that the tech analyst came along on cases, but she was always a welcomed presence for everybody involved.

Amidst the sea of gruesome cases sent to the BAU, you had come to look forward to Penny's witty banter, either over the phone or in person. The image of her colourful outfits and her outrageously decorated office were enough to make you believe in a light at the end of any tunnel.

It reminded you of your first case, an extraordinarily challenging one that the team managed to unravel in the nick of time. When you arrived back at the BAU, Penelope was the one to drag you out to celebrate. Little did you know, the rest of the team had also gathered at the bar with party poppers and birthday cake. When you found out that Penny had planned everything, you knew you had earned a friend for life.

As you smiled at the memory, JJ shuffled in her sleep and your attention was drawn to her sleeping figure. You didn’t know how she could look so perfect even when she was asleep. But then again, you’d come to realise that there was very little she couldn’t do.

You had already been friends with the communications liaison, but working with her in the BAU was a completely different beast. Of all the chaotic personalities in the BAU, only JJ had a hold over every single one. She was able to apply the same to the local police and media, and still meet the victim's families with the utmost grace and empathy.

During her brief window of absence when Henry was born, things just weren't the same. You liked Jordan, and you knew she always gave her best, but there was an unmistakable sigh of relief when JJ was back. And although she never asked for it, you and Penelope did everything you could to give her and Will a break from their newborn, including regular movie nights in with baby Henry.

Last but not least, the one that you couldn't forget even if you tried, Dr. Spencer Reid. You had joined the BAU because of him, you realised now. But what began as professional interest, had quickly developed into a full blown crush on your co-worker.

You realised this fact on an absolutely unremarkable day, except for the fact that your heart skipped a beat when Spencer walked into the office that morning. He wasn't wearing anything out of the ordinary, his usual combination of sweater vest and shirt, but when he smiled at you, your face flushed visibly and you wanted to melt into your chair in embarrassment.

If the genius had noticed it, he didn't let it show. But Derek most certainly did. Every chance he got that day, he teased you about your newfound crush on "pretty boy", and soon the news made it to everyone's ears. Emily not in the least, as she used the knowledge to win several chess games, much to your annoyance.

And still, Spencer remained oblivious. Despite how often you sat starry eyed listening to him explain a completely random fact. Despite how many weekends you spent together bonding over your shared interests in Star Trek and Doctor Who. Despite the fact that the seat next to him on the plane was basically reserved for you. You didn't think he knew, because he never made a move.

That's why you decided last week. The next time the team had a long weekend off, you would ask Spencer out on a date. You just didn't think it would happen so soon.

Midway through your thought, Spencer groaned in the seat next to you. His hands lifted to move his hair away from his face, and you resisted the urge to do it for him.

"Are we there yet?" He asked, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

You felt your heartbeat quicken at his voice, gravelly and soft, not fully back to reality just yet.

"No, not yet," you answered back in a whisper. "It's only 3AM. We have about two hours to go."

"Why aren't you asleep?" He asked. His head leaned back onto the headrest, but this time, his face turned towards yours. The two of you were far too close to each other for this to be work appropriate.

"Just thinking." You tapped the cover of your book with your pen in explanation, trying to look anywhere but at him. Spencer hummed in acknowledgement, the sound driving you wild. Then he did something you could have never expected.

"Hey," he began, pulling your gaze to meet his hazel eyes, "happy one year at the BAU." His lips formed a small smile, sleepy but genuine.

"You remembered?" You couldn't fight the wide smile that made its way onto your face, nor the glee that spilled out of your voice.

"Of course. Eidetic memory, remember?" He joked, gesturing at his head. Maybe it was the lack of sleep talking, but you felt like you were on the verge of tears.

"Thank you. Really."

"Hey, hey, hey, don't cry." Spencer said, suddenly sitting upright. He leaned forward as if to touch your cheek, but his fingers lingered in the air in between you awkwardly.

You brought your own fingers to your face, realising that you were, in fact, crying. A small laugh escaped your lips at the absurdity of it all.

"No, no, I'm alright, Spencer. Just overwhelmed, I suppose." You tried explaining, gently wiping the tears from your face.

"Why?" He asked, his voice laced with concern.

“I didn’t expect anyone to remember it, that’s all.” You said, feeling a little ashamed now, but your words seemed to light a fire in the doctor’s eyes.

“Well, whoever forgot it must be stupid because you’ve made a difference in the lives of every single person on this jet.” He said in an uncharacteristic huff.

This was your chance, you realised.

“Hey, Spencer,” you said after a pause, biting your lip nervously, “what difference did I make in your life?”

Spencer looked as if he had been caught, his eyes instantly darted to the seat behind you, his fingers twitching. You tightened your grip on your pen, willing yourself not to collapse from the anticipation.

“Of course, I-I mean, many things can’t be quantified due to its subjective nature, but you did change my life."

"Like?" You pressed on.

"You gave me something to look forward to everyday." He said, his eyes lifting to meet yours. You felt your heart soar a hundred stories above the ground.

"Really?" You were in disbelief, your voice barely a whisper.

"Really. You're... you're intelligent, beautiful, and you open my mind to new things every day. I feel like you understand me in ways the rest can't, and you’re the person I want to tell everything to. There’s nobody else but you.” He blurted out in a single breath, as if he'd lose the words if he waited any longer.

Your eyes threatened to spill tears again, but you blinked them back, preparing to say what you wanted to say to him long ago.

"Spencer... I like you. Like, romantically like you." You whispered, your eyes barely able to meet his. His eyes were wide open, his eyes glancing briefly at your lips.

And in a moment of pure bravery, as he explained later, he placed his hand over yours and squeezed. "Me too. I like you, romantically."

Long after that, he would tell you that he'd never seen you smile so widely before, and he instantly knew that he wanted to be the reason you smiled that way all the time. But in the moment, he just laced his fingers with yours.

You squeezed his hand back. Feeling calmed by his warm touch, you leaned closer to him. You still had one question on your mind.

"Did you know that I liked you?"

"I figured it out eventually. Last month." He said sheepishly. "But I've had feelings for you since a month after you joined the team." His cheeks turned a light pink at the confession.

"You know what? Me too." You blushed, leaning against his shoulder.

“Another thing we have in common now,” he said, resting his head on yours.

You weren’t willing to let him go now that you had him, and luckily, it seemed like he had the same idea, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close.

The two of you fell into slumber easily, not even realising it when the jet had landed back in Virginia.

It didn't take long for the rest of the team to realise the interesting sight in front of them, but not even Penelope's high-pitched squeal managed to wake you up.

In the end, it was JJ who decided to end your unknowing humiliation by shaking the two of you gently. You and Spencer jolted awake, immediately taking in the various smirks and grins from your team in front of you.

"Ok, that's enough guys." Hotch announced. You noticed the small smile on his face before he turned around to leave the jet.

The team - mostly Emily and Penelope - looked as if they wanted to enjoy the sight for a little longer, but at Hotch's word, decided they would leave the teasing till later.

"That's not exactly how I imagined telling the team," Spencer said, when the two of you were finally alone. He ran his fingers through his hair in an action of mild distress, but you noticed the smile that was still glued to his face.

You leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek, enjoying the blush it left behind. "Well, that means less time with them, and more time with you," you teased.

Spencer picked up his bag and offered his hand to you. "I'm counting on it," he said, smiling widely.

You took his hand, your gaze trailing up his wrinkled shirt to his messy brown hair, finally landing on his earnest eyes. Of all the times in the past year you got to be the BAU's Eighth. This moment had got to be the best.

[myelocin]

ten days, ten years | miya a.

Synopsis: This is the kind of real that’s yours and his. 

Genre: Fluff, Domestic | WC: 1500+

Characters: Miya Atsumu

A/N: this is a commisioned piece by @hvnlydmn <33

real estate - adam melchor

commissions

“So this is it,” said, with a voice signaling finality rather than a question.

Atsumu looks over the empty space of a house that was just in the market a few weeks ago, boxes stacked in the corners by the walls, and smiles. You peer at him from across the room, car keys in your hand while the set for the house are in his.

“This is it,” he says again, and when he peers at you, eyes making his message known before words could even attempt to do it justice, you soften.

There’s a lot of definitions that come with describing what’s real, but yours comes along looking like this.  

Real refers to Miya Atsumu and a history that’s you, and him. It’s the moments away from the limelight—his limelight—where he snorts at a couple jokes a little louder than how his manager would have appreciated. The tiny scribbles on the corner of the receipt; starting out as just a line before he’d eventually spiral and connect circles to dots, and little swirls until he’s covered half of the paper’s surface. It’s watching him on the screen, hair slicked up, and parted in just the right way, his control like it’s practically second nature, and his eyes as smooth as the words a person other than you would never be able to tell is practiced.

Because that’s who he is outside of here. (Outside of this.)

Practice interviews, the face on a billboard, and the child next door’s role model.

Real, on the other hand, is the present. Real is the face you wake up next to every morning, drool on the corner of his lips, where you still catch yourself thinking that you could never love anyone more than you do him. The black roots of his hair that grow out much faster than yours, and the way he leans in close to let you clip back his bangs that get in the way of his eyes natural.

It’s him blinking at you; hazel eyes like two pools of chocolate in any kind of lighting, the freckles on his cheeks a sight only you get to see because of how faint they are from a far. The scar on his cheek that you know the story of, healed and barely there; though you still make it a habit to leave kiss on its surface just because.

Real, is defined as the arguments that come and go; sometimes big, sometimes small, but always resolved long before the sun would set. Backs that are never turned from each other when the time came to sleep, because he knows sleep would never find you well unless his forehead was pressed against yours.

Real, like the keys on his hand and the wood floors of what you both would eventually call your forever home. The proof of the years that’s passed etched into the photographs within the first few pages of an album, while the spaces after it are left blank for the purpose of storing the memories of the years that are sure to come.

For now it’s just Atsumu’s fluffy slippers next to yours, and one framed photo of the two of you hung lopsided by the door because he insisted on hanging it up as soon as he entered, but it fits. Little by little the house that was just on the market a few weeks ago is beginning to feel like home.

“So this is it,” you say this time, because it truly is.

You cross the room and settle with standing beside him, his shoulder beside yours, in his eyes a hello. Atsumu smiles at you, then at the lopsided frame before he drops the keys on the makeshift bowl he found in the back of his car. He smirked at his discovery, and to be fair you did too—even though you knew it was something he swiped from his brother’s restaurant just a few days ago.

But it fits right in, you think.

A little black bowl with the familiar logo inked on the side, placed on top of one of the boxes that were sealed shut from the place it left with the intention to be opened within the walls of a new home. A forever home.

Something in his heart bursts at the realizations that something as little as opening boxes and hanging picture frames is what turns a house into a home.

“Do you see it?” he asks you in a sudden, his voice tender.

You hum out the voice of your curiosity, quirking an eyebrow in his direction as you turn to face him.

“See, it?” you question, when Atsumu decides to keep his silence.

He turns to you, flashing you a quick grin before he pads to the center of the room, hands on his waist as he continues to stare at the framed photograph that still is hanging crooked on the wall. But it fits, the voice in your head says, and in a way you suppose that it really does.

Imperfections within a love that feels perfect. Atsumu’s black roots coming in again, and the tag of his shirt poking out from his back. Your keychain with the little pizza man missing half an arm, but you keep it anyway because it was Atsumu’s first gift to you all those years ago. His pants fitting him just right, but the zipper of his fly halfway opened.

You snicker when he groans at you pointing it out, but he thinks that the sound of your laughter makes this house feel even more like home.

“I really see it, Ains,” he tells you again after a moment shared in laughter. The happiness that trails from it lingers, like it’s always done, and the word forever feels even more real.

He holds his hand out for you to take when you walk towards him, feet bare under the cool wooden floors, and he’s smiling. Atsumu’s more than in love, and he’s smiling because your hand snug against his feels like that puzzle piece that finally pieces the whole picture together.

You look at him, bathing in the comfort of the silence plus his few words; just the sounds of his breathing and the life that continues to move outside sounding like music instead of noise.

Atsumu pulls you towards him, spins you in the way that has you laughing at the silliness of it all, before he pulls you back again, your back to his chest, his chin on your shoulder. The crooked frame stares back at you, the two faces captured within it smiling, so you do the same.

“I see us here,” he begins.

“Ten days, and the boxes will be half emptied out. The couch will probably come in and maybe some more furniture, but we’ll have somewhere to sit,” he continues, and so the smile on your face remains.

“Ten months and the plant that Samu gave us will probably be dead,” he laughs, which prompts you into doing the same, your hands quick to give his arm that’s locked around your waist a little squeeze.

“That’s on you if you don’t water it,” you snort, craning your neck to face him and reaching up to pinch his cheek.

He rolls his eyes, gives you a laugh that sounds like all the sounds of love—of real love, before spins you again, first repositioning your hands so they rest on his shoulder while his settle on the dip of your waist.

“Then ten years later, I see little versions of me running around here,” Atsumu laughs, his eyes crinkling.

“Why versions of you?” you rebut with a laugh, reaching up to run your fingers through the strands of bleach blonde and black on the back of his head. “Why not me?”

Atsumu pokes out his tongue, puffing his chest out as he says, “Obviously me, because my better genes are superior.”

In exaggerated dramatics, you sigh, thumb reaching out to rub at the skin on his nape. He leans in, as if it’s a reflex, and you smile at the way everything just slides into place with each other.

“The Miya genes really are good right?” you sigh. “Should have gotten with Samu though,” you continue, looking away with an exaggerated huff. “He always was the cuter twin.”

Atsumu makes a show of pinching your sides, though only soft enough just to kick start a laughing fit. “Oi.”

You poke his cheek, leaning up then forward to press a kiss on the tips of his nose. “I see us too,” you say.”

“But it’s more like I see you every day. I see you leaving a sock there, and throwing your underwear three feet away from the laundry basket, and your bajillion cups of pudding in the fridge.”

Atsumu smiles, because he knows that love can be this too.

“I see us tonight,” he says. “Probably sitting on the floor because the furniture’s not here yet, and you’ll be picking out the vegetables in the pizza and putting it on my plate instead.”

“It wouldn’t happen if you just got the damn meat lover’s special,” you comment with a laugh.

“But it still works right?” He asks, pinching yours sides again. “We always have a way of working out right?”

You think about the road the both of you walked to on your own before you got here. The movie nights under the blankets, where if anything it was just you accompanying him so he could watch replays before a game. Atsumu’s laughter that booms before it echoes as if it’s screamed, then placed in contrast next to how he loves in silence, and gentleness.

“We always work, Tsumu,” you reassure. “That’s why we’re here now.”

“—because we’ll still be here ten years later,” he finishes for you, and you smile.

You suppose you can’t disagree with that; more than anyone—you see your world ten years later with him too.

[astrovian]

Richard Armitage interview for Radio Times (31/12/21)

Full transcript under cut

It’s hard to believe that Netflix nail-biter The Stranger only came out last year. The first collaboration between Harlan Coben and Richard Armitage dropped on the streaming service at the tail-end of January 2020, making a big splash upon its initial launch and no doubt picking up some extra viewers as the nation gradually retreated indoors. Fans were quick to demand a direct follow-up, which sadly never materialised, but a spiritual successor arrives on New Year’s Eve in the form of Stay Close.

“I would love to have gone back to do season two, but it was a closed story,” Armitage tells RadioTimes.com. “So when the opportunity came to do another one with the same team, same writer – different cast, obviously – it was a no brainer. I said ‘yes’ immediately and then started reading the book, and just thought, ‘here we go again’. It’s a complete page-turner.”

Both stories involve an individual’s seemingly perfect life being thrown into chaos by buried secrets, but Cush Jumbo (The Beast Must Die) portrays the polished middle-class suburbanite this time around. That side of Armitage has been firmly locked away as he inhabits the role of dishevelled photographer Ray Levine, whose once-promising life was reduced to shambles following a devastating trauma 17 years ago, from which he has never recovered.

“It’s where me and the character are so poles apart, because actually I move on from things really quickly,” the North & South star reveals. “I can pick myself up, compartmentalise it and move on. I mean, you do that all the time as an actor. When you’re faced with massive disappointments when you don’t get work, you just forget about it and you find yourself in a forward trajectory. But Ray hasn’t been able to do that.”

Armitage attributes this stagnation to the memory problems Ray has experienced since that fateful night and the fact that he has nobody “to guide him” through the recovery process. His understanding of the character is clear and confident, having carried out exhaustive research in preparation for Stay Close, creating a “rich” biography for Ray that extends far beyond what is laid out in the source material. Not only did this inform his performance, but it also proved an invaluable resource when it came to crafting the look of certain scenes.

“The production designer would email me and say, ‘what do you think Ray’s flat looks like? What kind of things does he have?’ And of course, I had the answers, because I’d done a lot of the background work,” he explains. “So when I got to set, it’s almost like nothing needed to be touched, it was so perfect down to the half-finished Pot Noodles on the couch and the cheap white bread that he was eating… In-between takes, I would just flop down on the couch as if it was my apartment because it felt so right, which I just love.”

The disparity between Ray and The Stranger‘s Adam Price is quite deliberate, as the team at Red Production Company were keen to win Armitage back, but “concerned” he would feel the material was “too close” in style and tone. The actor speaks highly of his collaborators there, including founder Nicola Shindler, describing them as “good friends” that he hopes to work with again, but adds the caveat that their next project is unlikely to be yet another Harlan Coben adaptation.

“I’m always looking to do something radically different to what I’ve done before,” he begins. “I’d be really surprised, [as] much as I like Harlan and how much he likes me, I think it would be pushing our luck to do a third. But never say never.”

Netflix has certainly invested heavily in the mystery author, brokering a deal in 2018 that will see up to 14 of his novels turned into streaming shows or films over the next few years. So far, these adaptations have been spread across Europe, with productions setting up shop in the UK, Poland, Spain and France, despite most of the books being set around the United States. Armitage credits Coben’s understanding of human behaviour for why these stories have resonated so strongly all over the globe, while he also hails Netflix for bringing the consumption of international content into the mainstream.

“These shows are not curated specifically for Spain or for Eastern Europe [or] whatever it is… they’re not embargoed,” he continues. “Sometimes in the past you’d think, ‘well, that’s never going to work in America, so we won’t sell it to America’. With Netflix, anything goes anywhere. So we’re watching stuff from all over the world and whether it’s got subtitles or not, I think people are just fascinated with how it works.

“It makes it more interesting if it’s not in your language. [When] I watched Money Heist, Netflix dubbed it for me by default, and I spent a day looking for how to watch it in the original language… because the voice is so connected to the person. I’ve got great people that dub me all over the world, but I want to hear the actor’s real voice. I don’t want to hear another actor voicing their words in English; it’s like you’re removing such a huge chunk of the character, particularly in high drama.”

Armitage himself has been part of this global push. Not only has he just finished work on a Spanish film, but earlier this year he appeared in South Korean blockbuster Space Sweepers, which landed on Netflix seven months before Squid Game brought increased attention to the country’s cultural output. It’s the latest in a long line of genre work, having previously played Marvel’s Wolverine in two audio dramas, as well as bagging key roles in animated fantasy series Castlevania, psychological horror Hannibal, and Peter Jackson’s The Hobbit trilogy.

“As a teenager, I was really into fantasy, magic, and then science fiction, so the Tolkien world, the CS Lewis world, [and] then sort of moved into Isaac Asimov and the early science fiction writers,” he recalls. “So when my agent came to me and said, ‘Look, they’re scouting the world for the cast of The Hobbit’, I was immediately engaged because I knew those books, I knew the world and I was almost salivating.

“So when somebody comes to me with a brilliant science fiction script, like Space Sweepers, I’m immediately transported and my brain goes into that place. It doesn’t necessarily put you in line for any awards or anything like that, because they’re often sidelined in terms of critical acclaim. But in terms of an audience and a practitioner, I love it, so I dive straight in… The whole green screen thing doesn’t bother me, because my brain is so full of the imagery anyway, I can project myself into that world.”

Armitage agrees that sci-fi and fantasy is deserving of more recognition on the awards circuit, naming The Hobbit co-star Andy Serkis as someone who “should have won an Oscar by now” for his work in the field of motion capture. Nevertheless, he’s far from done with either genre, revealing he’s keeping an eye out for an as-yet-unrealised dream project.

“Science fiction is still an untapped fantasy of my own. I’d love to do a really, really well executed comprehensive science fiction series, which is not so far away from us [in terms of realism],” he says, explaining his ideal project would be closer in tone to Black Mirror than Star Trek. “So if the door opens for me to take part in those things, I’ll jump.”

[visual-explorxtion]

Scarlet Letter [Chris Redfield x Reader] - One Shot (NSFW)

Summary: In the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, your captain, Chris, leads your team to find the research of the latest virus. But, the operation was unsuccessful. 6 months later, you meet him again.

A/N: Coming out of my cage, and I’ve been doing just fine🙃 I’ve shat this out of my ass unfiltered brain and have little to none expectations. Was suppose to be around 2k words but somehow shat out 4k instead. So, please expect nothing but 5 am bad writings🥲

Warning: Explicit content, like, hardcore explicit content if you haven’t catch the drift from the title by now.

Word Count: 4.4k

The scent in the atmosphere reeks of damp and saltiness- stiffening the senses in your nostril. The flooring beneath your heavy boots sways left and right as the hollow hallways creaked and groaned travelling further down the extent. The repetitive flashings of door to door is already making you sick in this dusky labyrinth. It's been 30 minutes since you set foot in this abandoned ship.

Your mission objective: to retrieve documentation and possible samples of the new variant strain of the virus. As easy as a retrieval mission may sound, the location of this requisition is also a motile laboratory. Admittedly, this is a dexterous way to cover any signs of your tracks– especially if what you are making concerns the wellbeing of the world and stirring another biohazardous warfare. But, to you, the work of fighting in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean is not the most ideal place in the world.

Cautiously trekking through the vessel, you've reached an intersection with hallways splitting into three different directions. A sturdy arm extends in midair, bringing your group to a halt. You all listen attentively, a few faint footsteps and unnatural growling swirls in the air but you can't quite pinpoint its exact location. The limb drops from your vision, instead it turns to face you all. The man's face is ragged, not only from exhaustion but also from the things he has seen through time. And yet, the amber burning in his eyes remains gleaming with hope. Chris Redfield, the captain of this retrieval mission, and your sole mentor since you've been recruited by the BSAA.

Chris glanced over you all once then began to sign with his hands. He splits your group into pairs; one team going left side, your group to the right and himself pushing forward. You all nod in agreement and move out to each direction of the crossroad respectively. Weapons engaged in position, lagging a few steps behind your teammate and check your watch. 0327 hour. Well...for you, time is of the essence.

In search of any signs of evidence but nothing seems to resemble what you were sent out to find. Corpses laid dormant in several rooms, blood tarnished the metallic floor deck but it seems to be running dry on the outer edge. Meaning they've died for a good few hours ago, but you don't see any signs of struggle. No stab or gun wounds, nor were they hit by any blunt instruments. Just blood oozing out, like the body itself is rejecting the vital fluid and pushing it out of the pores. Just the sight of this is rippling a chill down your spine. If this is the new strain of the virus, then you need to speed up your search for the documents, with evidence like this proves its value.

Another two steps along, you both reached a door unlike the rest of the ones you've seen. This one appears to be more sturdy and with an electronic keypad built into it. A room with a lock tells you that things that are usually classified or kept away from the prying eyes are often kept in a locked room. Maybe this mission wouldn't be so difficult after all.

Your partner carefully grabs a hold on the door handle and swiftly gives it a twist. To both of your surprises, it was unlocked. But that leaves a pit in your stomach as you know things generally don't work so easily. You nod and he pushed it open. The room is dimly lit and the beacon attached to your gun isn't doing any better. From what little light sources you both have, you can just barely make it out that you are situated in a conference room. A long, clear glass table sits tightly in the middle of the suite, with a few cabinets on either side and a laptop oddly placed at the far end of the desk.

"There. You go see if you can find any information. I'll stand guard"

They nod, speed away towards his objective and begin its continuous tapping on the keyboard. You took several glances at them impatiently before returning to inspect your surroundings for any imminent danger. But in return, they left out a hefty breath and shook their head.

"Dead end. Can't find anything on here." they sigh.

"Go look through the cabinets. There must be something." you tip your head towards the cabinet as you respond. Peering at your watch again. 0335h. Time is running out.

As soon as their back is turned away in your direction– immediately slamming the door shut and the electronic keypad emitted a small beep with its activation. You frowned and took three shots until the electronic part fizzled and the light darkens. They tugged at the door in frustration, but it wouldn't budge. As they look up to the smug grin on your face, fist clenched and pounding as hard as they could but the door stays deadlocked. You shook your head slowly, seeing the confused look on his face as you reached into your back pouch. In your hand, a palm-sized device– caught in red and blue wires, roughly composed with a digital face sitting just on top showing the number 30 on it. The blood on their face drained as they realised what you were holding.

"I sincerely hope you can make it out alive before this reaches 0." you smile, pressing a button and leaving the device on the floor. You turn and leave them effortlessly lashing out at the door.

***

Every twist and turn of a corner, you toss a bomb as you make your way back to the crossroad, heading to the direction where Chris set off. You wonder just how much he knows about this virus, or better yet, if he had any idea of your true intentions. Nevertheless, you won't let him compromise your only mission.

In your peripheral vision, you see Chris just up ahead. You ran to him breathlessly, staggering a step or two before reaching him.

"Captain! Are you alright? I heard gunshots." you gulped.

"I'm okay. What happened to the others?"

"We got separated in the middle of our search, then I heard gunshots so I went to inspect. Have you found what we are looking for yet?"

He nodded. "Yes. It seems that the new strain of the virus is worse than we think. I'll radio the rest of the team and get HQ to pick us up."

Chris walks off just a few steps, clutching the SD card for a closer inspection. Your shoulder shifts slightly and your hand gradually reaching for the back pocket and grasp for something. As he turns to press onto his in-ear radio, you plunge a cylindrical tube into his neck and dosed him. Arm sideswipes towards you, making you tumble back but catching yourself gracefully landing on your own two feet. Chris falters on his knees, just barely managing to pull out the syringe from his artery with the SD card spinning out of his grasp.

"What did you do to me?" He managed to push out a few words.

You stare at your feet where the SD card sits shyly just next to it. Picking it up delicately with your fingers and sigh.

"You know...I went through so much trouble just for this tiny thing." you wave the chip about as you make your way around the room. "But, no thanks to you...Captain." you smiled.

Chris sinking lower towards the ground as his muscles shake uncontrollably to keep himself upright. You stroll and position yourself in front of him, meeting him eye to eye.

"Hm. Somehow, I thought you might be smarter than this. All these...role-playing...serving under you." Force grabbing his chin and you inspect his face once more. "Did you enjoy yourself? Honestly, I had fun. But, all good things must come to an end." you whispered in his ear and drew your lips gently onto his. The warm sensation fills you for a split second before parting yourself from it.

Chris's face remains expressionless from the side effect of the drug, but you see a slight hint of awe in his eyes. Now, this is getting even more humorous to you. Glancing at your watch once more, 0400h. You stand, shoving the document chip in your pocket and letting your hand rest there as you lean against the window sill.

"Oh, Captain," you hear the distant pairs of footsteps gaining closer to your direction. "I'd wish we had more time." You smirk, just as the rest of the team surrounds you, gun in hand pointing in your direction and creating a barrier between you and Chris Redfield. Lifting up your left hand, hoping to prove your innocence but really, what good would that do?

You took an exaggerated breath and rolled your eyes, any minute now. As the team inches closer and closer towards you, out of the blue, a deafening 'BOOM' went off and shook the room. Without missing a beat comes another one.

"I believe that's my cue." Before they could react, the flash grenade releases out of your hand and a shock of light hits. Blinded by the flash, they fall prone and helpless to your defence. You took a few steps back, and with a charged run, you leapt out of the window and swan dive into the cold, pitless ocean to the muffled sound of explosions.

***

6 months you've been on the run and back to working independently. News about you spread quickly as you soon become a wanted criminal by the BSAA, but you also received more work thanks to the flamboyant advertisement.

Unwinding at a corner cafe in the middle of Paris, the sun shines just enough to be blocked out by your lavish sun hat while flicking through the top news pages. 'Increasing number of outbreak cases in several countries' seems like this is just the beginning of your newly found virus, and more importantly, turning a new leaf for your career.

Sipping a glass of '82 Lafite, breathing in your surroundings and admiring the view. Observing. The bustling street of passersby, the wind waking of emerald green trees and the leisurely patrons sitting around and behind you in this cafe. Sooner or later, this place will be a shitshow and overthrown by the hands of human-induced monsters.

You slipped a couple of bills and grabbed your lighter off the table before sauntering away before somebody did recognize you, not the first time you've had a run-in with an agent or somebody just wanting that bounty on top of your pretty little head. In this neverending cat and mouse game, there's only one winner, but you're not going to be the one that gets caught.

Wandering aimlessly down the streets to the sound of mild chatter and heels clicking against the cobblestones. Strolling at a comfortable pace and casually tipping your sun hat to adjust to the warmth of the sun, you abruptly stopped.

"I believe it is a criminal offence to publically stalk somebody. Or, did you forget that already?" you tease. Looking from behind, he stood there, dressed in black from head to toe. A perfect contrast to your floral white one-piece. "Captain... Well, I guess it would be best to call you Chris now." you faintly smiled.

Chris did not answer right away. He loomed, with that familiar upright frame but even more of a worn-out look on his face than the last moment you saw him. His cheeks concave a little, his stubbles have grown out to almost form a full beard and the light behind his eyes has diminished to blackened ash. It pains you to see him like this.

"I'm here to take you back," he ordered.

"And, what good would that do?" you paused, picking out your cigarette case from one of your pockets, a row of orange and white strips arranged neatly one next to the other. You drew one out and let it sit comfortably in between your slender fingers, out of your other pocket, a gold plated zippo and with a flick the cigarette sparked.

"Taking me back so you can get your ass praised? I'd suggest you go back and be a good little captain before the world goes up in flames." pressing the narrow stick against your lips and taking a deep drag, the warmth swirls and fills your lungs all the way with a slight tingle. The smoke rolls out in between your mouth and veils your face as Chris watches intently.

"I'm not here to turn you in," he spoke firmly and his eyes never left yours.

"Oh! Interest..." you gawked. Taking another long breath in. The ember burns away more and more like the distance between you and him. Drawing you closer until there is no distance left.

***

Mind hazed in red, you stumble backwards into your apartment, hands still entangled between each other's embrace and the passionate kisses. With each touch, your senses grow more numb, filled with nothing but lust.

You made an attempt at kicking off your heels and successfully discarded one side but your frustration did not go unnoticed. He grabs the back of your knee in one swift motion, fingers gently run along the underside and tug your heel off to the corner of the room. Skimming the edge of your sun hat, with a flick of the wrist it comes off and lands somewhere. You broke off his sultry kiss, gasping for air, face flushed in rose as his face mirror's yours. The colour of his eyes now burns as brightly as you can remember– like amber melted and infused to become a part of him. Its beauty encapsulated in the door to his soul. Tempting and mesmerizing.

Chris kept a hold of his gaze on your mouth– now red and puffy from excessively sucking on it. He leans closer once more, hoping to feel the sensation of you again, but you stopped him with the slightest touch of your index finger. The pad of your finger grazes tenderly along his lower lip, you could feel the vertical creases engraved across the top. Irritated, he parted his lips just enough for him to taste you, drawing in and softly nibbling on your skin with his canine, salivating down the palm of your hand. You snap your finger back and he growls, impatient for his desire.

Snatching a fist full shirt, you lead him through the hallway and enter a cosier area. Nothing in the room speaks personality; a cream wooden drawer, soft brown desk by the window, an unkempt double bed situated in the middle and a full body mirror with a sheet draped over it. You gave a shove and he collapsed onto the bed with a grunt. Spreading his legs wide open with a kick as he props himself up on his elbow.

Hands and knees crawling towards the prone stud and stopping until you both are face to face. His eyes scanning every part of you, searching for the slightest change of your emotion– a change that might sway your mind, rejecting him. You both lock eyes for a moment– trying to sense what goes on in their mind– his eyes flicker from your left vision to your right, taking all of your facial features in, memorising them. You leaned in close, just shy of an inch away, hovering just above his mouth, feeling his presence. He attempts to lean in closer but you withdraw a little as his voice comes out quiet with a plea.

Giving him one last glance over, you parted your lips for him as his tongue enters per your invite. Compassionate and needy, his kiss became more demanding as if trying to devour you all at once, marking you as his own. His teeth nibble and softly sucking on your bottom lip, it becomes even more puff up and a few droplets of blood oozes out as he licks them away, tending for your wounds. Hands entangled onto each other clothing, tearing them off of each other's bodies with any difficulty and tosses aside.

Chris's palms roam freely from your shoulder blades and slither down, taking in two handfuls of your ass and flipping you on your backside whilst he towers you on top. His mouth leaves you with a feverish haze, running his tongue over the length of your jawline and tasting every section of your luscious chest and working a trail of kisses down your abdomen. A firm grip shift to your thighs– almost spilling out– as he parts your legs wide opening, welcoming him to take a mouthful of you. You gasped when he took you in, hands helplessly reaching for the sheets, he drinks you in and teases you playfully by grazing you with his teeth and sucking on the spot. His burning hot tongue runs down your length, protruding your entrance several times before slithering back up top again.

Deep marks imprinted on your lower lip, stifling any noise that threatens to escape your throat, but that soon was broken free by your beloved captain. A hiss slipped, reverberating in your eardrums, as two rigid fingers explored your walls which made you tense up from this unfamiliar feeling. The continuous prodding made you twist and squirm even more so, as the pace quickens, the heat in your belly grew with the flaming desire, burning you over the edge and tightening around him. Gently, he retrieves his hand as he looks down at them, spreading his fingers apart. The white silken fluid cascades down the length of his forearm– gleaming with the scent of you– he runs his tongue along his limb, tasting every ounce of you without missing a drop.

Breathlessly, you watch him attentively playing with your discharge, still strung around his long, harsh fingers, lustfully smearing it across your pillow lips before nudging them into your mouth, giving you a taste of yourself. A bitterness intertwined with a hint of saltiness of his digits, his hand caresses your cheek as his mouth crashes back down onto your, feeling the heat of his rising through to you. Tongue twirls on top of one another, a lick of his canine and piercing his lower lip until he grunts in pain, antagonizing his pleasure and taking back your dominance.

You smirk at the brilliance of your work, blood trickles down the corner of his mouth as he swipes away with a flick of his thumb. The annoyance painted on his face made you even giddier, but his desire for control will make you wish you never had triggered something within him. Chris gave a rough tug, sliding you closer to his peaked length, gripping your hip so mean, bruises are bound to surface the next day. He positioned himself just barely touching your opening, loosely slipping up and down tormenting your craving for him to insert his dick deep within. Taking this as a challenge, your legs wrapped and locked around his waist, seizing the means of his movement but forward. A fiery breath scatters across the dip of your neck, creating goosebumps around the area, now covered by the moisture of his saliva.

He gazes at you, cocking one-side of his eyebrow, leaving you in confusion about his ulterior motives. In your new confoundment, his teeth sink deep into the curvature of your delicate skin as he plunges all the way to the hilt. You scream, can't decide whether it's from the pain of his chomp, or him stretching and filling your abdomen to the brim. Muscles twitch in discomfort, the size of this thing is tearing your physicality and sanity apart, all thoughts scattered from your brain, only white noise occupies your mind. Subconsciously, you wiggle out of his grasp, but only for him to throw your legs over his broad shoulders, slamming back down his length, hitting all your sensitive spots again. Your back arches from the force of his retaliation and your sweet moan echoes around the room.

His hip stirs with each thrust he takes and earns a moan in return, rearranging and moulding your internal organs into the shape of his. Subtly moving across your stomach, a hand tracing every curve of your midriff and stopping just below your belly button, lingering over your skin for a few moments before putting a light pressure where a thin wall of muscles separates his cock. Your head threw back in ecstasy and toes digging deep into the mattress, hands desperately grasp for his arms for strength as you scream out his name. Bedpost banging against the wall with each bit of momentum that caused the silk sheet to fall, exposing the full-length mirror just facing you. The animalistic position that presents before your eyes startles you and makes you turn away out of embarrassment. He constrains your jaw and twists you back into view.

"Watch it," he commands. “Look at how I’m fucking you senselessly.”

You witness the part where you and he connect, devouring his member inch by inch, feeling all the ridges and veins brushing over and over your sensitive spot, pushing you closer to the edge. Nails delving deeper into his flesh, creating new scars mixed with his old bullet wounds, you inhale a sharp breath as you unravel onto him the second time, clenching rhythmically to your descend. As the waves of pleasure crash before you, Chris slowly subsides his movement to let you adjust to your coming down, your vision returning to his face that’s filled with compassion.

Stamina quickly replenishes and before he could react, your leg hooks around his knees and pulls, he tumbles backwards, landing abruptly onto the mattress with a slight jolt. You flipped your position with ease, riding on top with his body heat still connected deep within. He seemed impressed by your skilled manoeuvre as he got handsy with your ass again, groping the rounded meat a handful of times before bringing his hand up and slapped it. The pain made you welp and clenches him tighter which earned a raspy moan slipping out of his lips.

Hip rolled against his hard length– prodding further into you– earning you another erotic hiss from his pent-up breath. In this position, your insides are being stretched wider between pleasure and pain. Your hands made their way to his chest for support as you began sliding back out, and all at once, dropping all the way down. He groans, the combined movement is wearing him down as you can feel his dick pulsing rapidly to indicate that he is on the verge. Your arm reaches backwards, a finger trailing up along his inner thigh, teasing the shape of his bulge and drawing circles around it. To his surprise, you grasp the base of his shaft, restricting his means of climax. Chris fists the sheets and growls in disapproval.

"Not so fast." you giggled.

Twisting and fighting as his loaded passion is met by the pain you've conflicted on him, which brushed your ego to see him act like this. Your little captain, patriotic and stone-faced on the battlefield, now falls weak under you– pleading for a sweet release. You comply, quickening up your pace, rolling your hips in between the intervals of riding, you positioned yourself at an angle, letting the head stroke your delicate spot harder. The repetitive motion numbs your mind, waves of bliss building up again in your abdomen as the slapping sound resonate louder around the room.

Blood rushing up to your head, with the white noise filling up your ears and thoughts once more, your body spasmed as you came, eyes seeing stars from the immense heat. You release the grasp of his dick as he cries out and injects you with his thick load– thrusting intensely with each discharge. His cum fills you to the brim, spilling down your thighs still freshly warm. You scoop up a little until it covers the tip of your finger and traces it along with your tongue before swallowing– salty with a minor chewy texture.

Your legs eventually gave out, still twitching from the aftermath, you flopped on top of the now exhausted Chris. Both gasping desperately for air, you listened closely to the pounding of his heart until it subsides to a normal beat. How very strange, being alive.

You put an abrupt stop to your internal thoughts so you don't ruin a good moment, considering this might be the first and last you get to do this with him. Pushing yourself off him, you lay silently with his arm tucked under your head, you sigh, seeing him fastly sound asleep. Thumb softly caress his cheek and faintly tracing the bags under his eyes, a slight pang hits you, recalling your own mistakes that lead him to this. Your eyelids grew heavier– struggling to keep yourself awake– you kissed him once more and whispered before succumbing to the darkness.

“I’d wish we had more time.”

***

Arm in search of the body next to him, but the cold emptiness is left in his presence. Eyes shot wide open, the room still shrouded in blackness with the pale moonlight seeping in. Chris sat up, trying to put the puzzle pieces together, remembering where he is. He scans the room, looking for a hint of you, but you were nowhere to be found. He sighs, picking up his undergarment off the floor and trudging out of the bedroom. The rest of the house is dim, but the moonlight gives him comfort and company at this moment, he knew you were already gone.

Taking a closer inspection around, he never noticed the simple furniture placed around the apartment that already occupies the space when you arrived. The lack of liveliness proves that you weren't going to stay for long. Of course, Chris was one of the reasons. Recollecting his items of clothing around the house piece by piece, he spots a red note sitting on the edge of the counter. A symbolic fragment that's surrounded by the monochromatic landscape. He reads to himself and shakes his head, skimming the bottom of the note where your initials are printed on. Hesitantly, he pockets the notes as he exits the place, leaving him with the final message:

"See you around. x"

[memes-in-a-half-shell]

@purplesangel​, @kokokatsworld​, +anons

Decided to do a Turtle of Choice x Fem!Reader thing, since I got that “wanna fuck you against the window” thing for ALL OF THE BOYS. Gonna write it as an AU where the turtle of your choice is the boss/CEO of a prestigious and fancy-pantsy place you work at. So, myeah, nice turts in suits 😏👌 (also mutants are a known thing in that AU)

13: Look what you do to me 26: I wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it 57: We’re in public you know 59: Are you sure? Once I start I don’t think I’m able to stop 64: I love the way you look with my fingers inside you 75: If you interrupt me one more time— so help me god 107: Guess I’ll have to cum inside you then

You had started that assistant job out of pure luck after finding an add for it online. That Hamato company had a good reputation regarding advancements of any kinds; techonogical, financial, you name it. The four turtles who oversaw it were seen as the undeclared rulers of Manhattan, their power and influence overseeing many spheres of New York’s scene. They equally shared the role of CEO amongst them, being brothers and their trust infallible. You had been teamed up with one of them, the three others already with an assistant of their own. And you instantly bonded with your boss. He had that charm and appeal that could only bring you closer to him. His reptilian features sure enhanced his beauty, as well as his power - both physical and financial - only enticed you more.

As the days passed, soon they became weeks, and before you knew it it had already been a couple of months since you were working for him. By that time, you two had that inseparable bond that you had to keep secret when at work, for the sole sake of professionalism. But you sure both had that little game going on that had you on edge at times. It would mostly lead to incredible sex when back at his place, but sometimes the tension rose so much at work, you were both tempted to just hide in a broom closet and go at it...

That one time, you had decided to wear that new business suit which its pencil skirt hugged your bottom half so well. You felt powerful, incredibly beautiful and in control. It’s when you were at that top of the world in your esteem that you truly realized that your mutant boss was truly in the palm of your hand - devoted and enamored to you. From the very start of the day you could feel his gaze following you whenever you’d pass in front of his office door, and you frankly wanted to push it further. After collecting some paperwork meant for him, you made a beeline to his office and gently knocked at the doorframe. You knew he was aware of your presence, but you so definitely wanted to play the game...

“Yes?” he said, his eyes slowly going over you.

“I have some documents that are in need of your signature.... But if you’re too busy, I can come by later. I’ll make sure you’ll get a reminder as I’ll walk across this entry many times.”

He leaned back in his chair a little, some amusement showing on his features.

“I don’t think you’d be able to keep walking around all day with those heels and that nice skirt of yours.”

“Are you sure? Once I start, I don’t think I’m able to stop.”

He gulped. You being so assertive all of sudden just made the gears turn so perfectly...

“Alright. Come in. Close the door,” he said, gesturing you to come forward. “I’ll sign those damn paperwork so I can spare you walking a hundred miles in a thight skirt.”

After closing the door, you placed the pile on his desk, sitting across him - only the furniture separating you both. He took out a pen, shuffling through some pages.

“Okay then where do I si-”

“Pages fourteen, twenty-six, forty, and fifty-two,” you cut.

He paused, only his gaze moving up to you with a small frown. Your smirk brought a small sigh out of him, then proceeding to turn to the first page mentionned. After a quick glance at it, he was starting to grow annoyed.

“Oh I hate it when there’s a billion lines. Which one do I-”

You had already sprung to your feet, coming next to him - real close - and pointing to a couple of lines.

“Here, here, annnnd here.”

At your last ‘here’, you had next moved your hand to gently trail along his forearm, your nails softly going against his scales.

“If you interrupt me one more time- so help me god,” he then said.

“I’m just trying to help, sir,” you added, feigning innocence, your hand still on him.

Good lord, he could smell you and it was amazing. He turned his chair to face you, now making you stand in-between his opened legs.

“Help me? Look what you do to me,” his hand slightly motioned downward.

You noticed the starting buldge in his pants, now feeling pleased.

“We’re in public, you know?” he added.

“The door is closed, sir. Unless someone really wants to bother you, this doesn’t count as public...”

It’s as if you had said the exact magic words he needed to hear. One hand at the small of your back, he brought you closer and you were both instantly locked in a kiss. A part of him wanted to throw everything on his desk off to the ground, but he knew in the end that’d he regret trying to put everything back in order (especially the damn paperwork...). Instead his hands started to venture on your form, a part of his touch getting lower and lower to your core.

“That skirt looks good on you,” he purred inbetween kisses.”But I do wonder how it’d look if I lift it up a little...”

As it was thight around your form, that was no easy task, but the mutant let it seem like it was no big deal as he got to the deed.

“Wanna interrupt me again?” he said. “Wanna tell me what to do next?”

“Will I lose my job if I do so?” you answered with a smirk.

“I’ll give you a promotion,” he smiled too.

You stopped talking, prefering to guide him with actions instead. Moving his hand, you drove him to your underwear only so he could start to tease you. He caught on your need, following suit on his own.  Both your neediness kept translating through your kisses and touches, every steps in your actions gradually - yet rapidly - evolving to a state that had the two of you repeating the same thought over and over again: I need you right now. He slid his hand into your underwear, aiming for your core. His caress was languid and it just felt so right when he slipped a finger in. You were breathing roughly against his scales, your hands taking support against the upper ridge of his shell. You noticed his renewed smile as he gazed down at this initial connection.

“I love the way you look with my finger inside you...”

“Don’t you want more? I want more,” you mewled, your hips instinctively following his rhythm in small circle motions.

He looked back up to you, his lips aiming for one side of your throath and eagerly traveling to your jaw and cheek.

“More... I do,” he murmured against your skin. “I wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it.”

That took you slightly by surprise, although your quick fear died as you remembered that the windows of this building were tinted on the outside - making it impossible for any crowd to see anything. But perhaps he simply wanted to leave a trace of yourself on his side, a phantom trophy for anyone to see, if they had a keen eye. You gasped as he grabbed you easily by your waist, lifting you only to place you against a nearby window. Your arms were quick to wrap around his neck, kissing him again and again as you could feel him struggle a little to set himself free.

“You better not leave any marks on my new suit,” you warned, breathing hard from all that action rushing through your veins.

He smiled, amused and delighted: “Guess I’ll have to cum inside you then.”

A loud gasp left you as you felt his cock enter. His churr invaded your ears as he started with a slow pace, nuzzling you. His large hands were holding you up from the bottom of your ass to a part behind your thighs; perfectly in control. You weighed nothing to this mutant, and that was an incredible turn on... As the seconds passed, the need only grew stronger and stronger. Your skin ached to be mostly covered in clothing, but the spontaneity of it all threw your desire through the roof. You could feel your lover going deeper and stronger, the growl in his throath entertwined with his panting, only for you to hear. Your nails were starting to scrape his scales, unable to contain your excitement - unless you’d allow yourself to scream and moan, which was not particularly ideal.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful.... and you’re all mine...,” you heard him say.

“Oh, sir,” you mewled, playful and wanting more.

The warmth of him, mixed with the window’s cold, could only bring you on such a high. You almost forgot how to breathe as you could feel him nibble at your skin and your core rubbing oh so great against him.

“Oh baby, I’m gonna- ... Fuck! I’m gonna-”

You had a hard time speaking, everything a blur.

“Do it, love, I wanna feel you tight around my dick.”

That request had you cumming in no time, the turtle slightly slowing his pace only so he could savor each squeeze of your walls around him. But as soon as you began to calm down, he regained his vigor, already so close.

“Cum with me again, I know you can,” he asked lovingly, followed by kisses.

Without hesitation you brought a hand to your clitoris, rubbing to match his pace. As his name escaped your lips over and over again in silent pleas, you felt your second rush wave in, this time accompanied by the familiar sensation of his release. Both your arms were now again resting around his neck, humming in delight as you kept smiling and nuzzling his cheek.

“... I promote you to employee of the month. Goddamn, even employee of the year,” softly laughed the terrapin.

“If that title comes with benefits such as this, I’ll gladly accept,” you added.

As he removed himself and put you back to the ground, you wobbled slightly as you brought your panties back up, then lowering your skirt to its rightful position. .... Walking in high heels today would prove to be quite the challenge. “You good?” quietly asked the mutant, leaving a hand to your elbow in order to sustain you a little.

“Never been better,” you smirked.

As you took some time to properly arrange your hair, the other proceeded to sign the papers still on his desk, after making sure that his attire was rightfully in place. Once everything was done, you crossed eachother’s gaze and couldn’t help the quiet laughter and snickers from leaving you both, knowing you had lost enough time as it is. Opening the door, the terrapin was also at the frame, handing you the documents.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention, miss. You are most certainly a valuable asset in this company as your efficacity brings projects to a fast and most optimal motion.”

“Thank you, sir,” you replied, taking the papers and then professionally shaking his hand. “I only aim to bring the best of me in this workplace.”

“And that is always appreciated.”

You could only strut back to your desk afterward, definitely floating high on a cloud.

[homeformyheart]

For F: “That position looks impossible enough, let’s try it.”

thank you V for the prompt!! this definitely got away from me, but I hope it works!

author’s note: thank you for the request, @hunnybadgerv. i hope this does your prompt justice and sorry for the length, all the intimacy feels got away from me (and i have to give a lot of inspiration credit to @gavcowles). this is very soft, the smut really plays a secondary role to the intimacy and respect for the boundaries of an aspec partner. *just fyi: my enby detective harley uses she/they pronouns and is aspec. hope you all enjoy!

copyright: all characters, except the oc detective, are owned by mishka jenkins @seraphinitegames. series/pairing: the wayhaven chronicles – felix hauville x nb!detective (harley bishop) rating/warnings: 18+; ns*w smut noted between the 🔥⚡ and ❄💧 icons (minors dni) based on/prompt: nsfw dialogue prompts // 73. “That position looks impossible enough, let’s try it.” (in bold) word count: 1.7k summary: felix learns harley’s boundaries and encourages them to be intimate on their terms.

on their terms

felix balances a pile of thick, heavy books on one arm while reaching up toward a shelf above his head. he realizes he underestimated the ladder rung that would get him the closest and it’s too late now to change course, given how he’s already balancing on one leg, the other extended behind him.

he very much looks like a ballerina-in-training.

in his haste, he accidentally grabs a few thin volumes stacked closely next to each other and leaps down to the ground. he glances at the one on top, the smallest of the bunch by far, and his eyebrows rise in surprise and curiosity.

he drops the rest of the books so he can flip through his new discovery, wincing at the sound of heavy texts crashing to the floor in a heap. he knows he’ll get an earful from nat for leaving them there, but he’s too excited and runs off to harley’s room.

they’re reading through some reports when he bursts in and climbs into the bed to sit next to them.

“look what i found in the library! nat’s been holding out on us,” felix grins, showing them the cover. “i am definitely not letting her live this down.”

harley raises an eyebrow in surprise at the title: sex positions through the ages.

“why are you assuming it’s nat’s?” they ask curiously, putting aside the reports and curling into his side as he wraps an arm around them.

this is one of his favorite (although everything about harley is his favorite) things to do with hayley – hold them and be held by them with the feeling of complete and utter belonging blanketing them both.

he flips through the pages quickly, taking in all the various illustrations the book offers. harley hums in agreement every few poses, until felix comes across one that makes him pause.

“that position looks impossible enough, let’s try it,” he suggests, moving the book over so harley can get a better look.

the position in question requires quite a bit of maneuvering, flexibility, and strength – none of which are “impossible” for him per se. but it’s still one that he hasn’t ever tried before, and felix is usually up for trying anything at least once.

he draws circles above harley’s hip, slipping his hand underneath their shirt carefully, watching their reaction out of the corner of his eye. they’ve been together long enough that he’s learned to read the subtle tells of their moods most of the time, but he still tries to encourage them to speak up more often.

harley remains still but he can feel their heartbeat against his ribcage. their hand hasn’t moved from its spot on his chest. he removes his hand from under their shirt and pulls it gently back down to cover their exposed skin.

if anything happens tonight, it has to be on their terms. even if harley hasn’t quite articulated their terms exactly – and he wishes they would soon so he could always know what lines must never be crossed – he’s still getting a feel for their boundaries.

his intuition hasn’t let him down yet.

he closes the book and leans down to kiss their hair softly, gently tucking his arm under their knees to pull them into his lap.

“thank you,” they murmur against his neck.

“of course, babe. i hope you never feel like you have to pretend with me,” felix responds as they pull back to look at him. “whatever we do, i always want it to be on your terms, okay?”

and he’s pretty sure the smile they give him could sustain him for the rest of his life.

“shower with me?” they ask suddenly and before he can respond, they’re pulling him out of bed and toward the bathroom.

their back is to him as they undress and step into the shower, adjusting the settings to the lukewarm temperature they know is at the upper limit of his tolerance and he follows suit, an ear-to-ear grin on his face at the sheer happiness filling his chest at the sight of them – comfortable and allowing him to see them this way.

the water gently flows over their bodies while they reach for the soap and he adjusts the showerhead pressure, grinding his teeth slightly at how extreme the adjustment feels until he gets used to it, standing behind harley with his hand on their hips and space between them as they finish washing their body.

his gaze moves up as they reach for their shampoo and he places his hand on theirs.

“let me,” felix murmurs quietly, grabbing the bottle and squeezing out a palm-sized amount onto his hand.

he knows, through observation but also trial-and-error, how much shampoo and conditioner to use for harley’s long, color-treated hair. and there’s something about how they let him gently massage their scalp (especially after the first few times when he was too eager and rough) and weave the products slowly down the length of their locks that makes his heart soar.

the bright blue color dulls a bit under the weight of the water and conditioner, but that’s how he knows he’s used enough. that, plus the quiet sighs of contentment leaving harley’s mouth sending a warmth blooming across his chest.

he shifts so that the stream of water hits their head directly, continuing his gentle massages as he rinses the products out of their hair. he carefully weaves his fingers through their tresses, untangling any knots that he can find as best he can without pulling at the roots – and he can tell, because their head jerks a centimeter back whenever that happens.

after a few minutes, the water runs clear down their back and he gently wrings their hair out, placing it over their shoulder. he reaches for the loofah before hayley stops him and turns to face him.

🔥⚡ 🔥⚡

they pull him forward a step so the water hits his back before placing their hands on his hips, tiptoeing up to kiss him softly before kissing down his jaw and neck. their hands mirror the movement, inching down his thighs as their lips reach his collarbone. he sucks in a breath at their hands moving to the inside of his thighs, trailing their fingers upward as their lips continue their journey down his chest.

felix shudders, and it’s not from the hammering pain of the water pressure on his sensitive skin.

no, that’s faded to a numb rhythm in the background as harley takes him in hand and begins to stroke him slowly.

his cock stiffens under their touch and he makes an effort to open his eyes and look at them, mouth parted and ready to make sure they know he’s not expecting or needing them to do anything and they—

“i love how responsive you are to me. i love knowing that i do this to you,” they murmur against his stomach, lips fluttering against the hair they find there and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

their eyes are teasing and serious at the same time and he wants to—oh, his brain stops processing for a moment as their strokes quicken, hands alternating and squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. they continue kissing down his happy path but he stops them with a gentle stroke of their jaw with his thumb.

they look up at him questioningly and he returns with a suggestive smirk of his own, reaching up to grab the curtain rod and lifting himself up so his hips are at their shoulder-level (he is very thankful that the agency installed reinforced rods directly into the walls as a precaution against the “activities” that some of the team is known for getting into).

the look in their eyes shift from confusion to adoration to gratitude to eagerness and oh, what he wouldn’t do to capture those expressions forever.

“this way, you’re not on your knees,” he says softly, his breath ending in a moan as they move his legs to rest over their shoulders and wrap their lips around his cock.

that feeling alone makes him want to explode right then and there—

but he holds on, because it’s harley and them together.

he vaguely senses that his body is shivering despite the warm steam from the shower but he is too preoccupied with how hayley is moving their head up and down his cock, the position allowing their hands to freely play with his balls. he tightens his grip on the curtain rod, reminding himself the last thing he wants is to fall on top of hayley.

felix glances down and they’re gazing right back at him, as though he’s been spilling all of his inner thoughts out loud, and maybe he is – he’s not sure and can’t be bothered to recall in the moment. not with them hollowing out their cheeks and taking him deeper into the back of their throat, pushing him all the way to the edge until he can’t hold back anymore.

and then he lets go, making an effort to move away but they hold him tightly against their mouth, swallowing eagerly without breaking eye contact. and for him, knowing hayley is giving as much as they are willing to give and on their own terms—

it’s everything.

“geez, harley,” he breathes out their name, a deep, throaty groan that synchronizes with their final swallow as they move off him and gently bring his legs back to the floor. he holds their face in his hands and kisses them deeply, the smile on both their faces making it so their lips don’t quite fit.

❄💧 ❄💧

felix steps out and reaches for a towel, holding it wide open as he turns back to them. they tilt their head at him curiously.

“your turn,” he says warmly, eyes soft and heart full.

harley steps out of the shower and into the towel he wraps carefully around them, their eyes never leaving his face.

“i love you,” they whisper as felix carefully dries every part of their body before handing them the robe hanging on the back of the door.

harley slips the robe on while felix wraps their hair up with a smaller towel.

“i love you more,” he replies, kissing their cheek and leading them back into the bedroom so they can cuddle.

* * * * * taglist: @kelseaaa; @kat-tia801; @anotherbeingsworld; @crackerdumortain; @gloynporslen; @writer-ish; @sosolenoo; @alyssalauren; @ambrosykim; @wayhavenots; @gingerbreton; @takemyopenheart;

[bluefirewrites]

I'm sorry about your presentation, idk if your still doing hcs but can you do one where Reggie is julies older brother by 1 or 2 years and Julie in love with Luke and Luke likes her as well but neither will do anything because of Reggie. If not its ok. ☺

I brought up an idea similar to this a while back! But let’s rework it. 

In this scenario, let’s say that the Molinas and the Peters' have known each other for a long while, ever since Julie and Reggie were kids. They’ve pretty much grown up together. 

And then they get older and a lot of shit happens. Julie’s mom dies. And Reggie’s parents finally get a divorce. 

As the two families are healing and trying to move on, eventually Ray and Reggie’s mom sorta just clicked. 

And years later, they ended up getting married- officially making Reggie Julie’s brother. 

They move into the Molina’s house and they transition to one big family so seamlessly that Julie often forgets that Reggie isn’t her brother in the biological sense. He’s always been an older figure to her, always looking out for her and Carlos. 

She’s so used to having him around. And even used to having Reggie’s friends around growing up. 

They all met when they were in middle school, but Julie hasn’t seen them much over the years, only seeing them during special occasions or whenever she would go to the Peters’ from time to time. 

She remembers Alex, the shy blonde one who does his best to keep the peace when everyone got too rowdy. 

And then Bobby, who is just hitting his stride in his sullen, moody teenager phase. Still nice though. 

And Luke, the wild one. The guy was all long haired, energetic, and sporting some gnarly braces the last time she saw him. 

She hears a knock at the door the night Reggie and his mom had moved in. Julie opens it and it’s the boys: Alex, Bobby, and- woah. 

“Julie?” Luke smiles, his long hair cut to a still shaggy ‘do, braces gone, and now ripped, telling by how he’s proudly wearing his Nirvana cutoffs, “No way! Long time no see,” 

“Y-yeah,” Julie instantly wishes that she wasn’t wearing her dinosaur slippers at the moment. She leads them all inside, telling them to make themselves at home while they wait for Reggie to come down. 

Julie hurries off to her room, red in the face, internally freaking out about the idea of a cute guy coming over to her house on a regular basis. 

A cute guy she cannot get involved with... imagine how Reggie would react... 

The guys note the dreamlike expression on Luke’s face as he watched Julie go up the stairs. Once she’s gone, Luke whirls around, “Has she always been like that?” 

“Squirrely?” 

“No...” Luke drops his voice down to a whisper, “I mean, has she always been that cute?” 

Alex and Bobby shoots this idea down real quick, “Woah! No no no! Off-limits! She's off-limits, Luke!” 

“How come?” 

“She’s Reggie’s sister,” 

“Step-sister,” 

“Still,” Bobby cuts in, “You know Reggie. He takes the brother role very seriously. He won’t let you stand a foot away from her if he heard what you just said.” 

“If who heard what?” Reggie says, coming down the stairs. 

“Nothing!” They all exclaim, and Luke silently thanks the boys for not ratting him out and invoking Reggie’s wrath. 

He does know how Reggie can get when it comes to Julie. He’s already so protective of her. So he’s not going to try and do anything to piss him off. 

And besides, he just finds her cute. It’s not like anything’s gonna come from it. 

Wrong. 

Luke and Julie are hardcore pining for each other the more time the boys spend over at the house. 

And they’re over a lot. 

Julie would come into the garage, now a studio space for the boys’ band, and watches them practice. 

Somehow Luke finds a way to gravitate towards her. Always standing beside her, ready to show a song he’s been working on or just ask how she’s doing. 

And Julie would find an excuse to hang around the boys, whether offering to help with songwriting or help clean up the equipment. One time, she hands Luke his guitar and their hands met. They both blush but quickly part before Reggie could see what transpired. 

They sneak little casual touches here and there, both to gauge if the other person reciprocates their feelings and to hide whatever was going on between them from Reggie. 

This all coming from the fear of Reggie flipping out on them. 

Apparently when the boys bring up Nick from Julie’s class, joking about the way he was starry-eyed when dancing with Julie (secretly trying to get a rise out of Luke), Reggie immediately asks Julie about a thousand questions: 

“Who is he? What does he do?” 

“Do? He’s a student. In my grade...” 

“Oh. No job? So he’s a deadbeat, huh? Doesn’t sound like a suitable match,” 

“What are you going on about?”

“Does he like the Star Wars Prequels? Yes or No? There is a right answer” 

“What does this have to do with anything, Reggie?”

“I need to know if he’s good enough for you!” 

Reggie starts watching Nick like a hawk at school, going out of his way to intimidate the junior (well as much as he could. he’s still pretty much a puppy and super non-threatening). 

It’s getting ridiculous. 

So Julie goes to talk to Luke, to try and nip this in the bud before Reggie notices their weird behavior. She manages to play off needing help to get something in the laundry room to get him alone without suspicion. 

“Look, we can’t do this anymore... whatever this is,” 

Luke nods, “Agreed. Reggie’s my best friend.” 

“And he’s my brother,” 

“I don’t want to do something that would upset him,” 

“Me neither. Glad we’re on the same page,” 

“Right. Same page. So just friends. Deal?” she sticks her hand out. 

He shakes it, “Deal,” 

They lock eyes, appreciating how the other one looks under the warm dimmed light. 

It takes only about .5 seconds for them to crash their lips onto each other’s, igniting a full on make out session. And by the time they finished, they realize their mistake. 

Uh oh. 

They can’t go back after this. 

Now they really have something to hide from Reggie. 

They sneak around the house, whenever they could. 

Luke would make up an excuse to grab water or go to the bathroom in the middle of rehearsal, just to sneak up to Julie’s room to grab a quick kiss and maybe a small tickle fight just so he could hear that laugh he loves so much. 

And Julie would join the boys at the dinner table, sitting next to him and discreetly slipping cue love notes into his pocket that she knows would make him blush and smile all goofily later (and if they turn into potential song lyrics? Well that's for them to know).

Alex warns Luke the next day, “I think he’s catching on. Be more careful,” 

They spend more time together now that Julie starts writing songs for the band. Her and Luke would huddle over the piano, scribbling the night away, always sitting dangerously close to each other.

Once, Reggie observes them quietly from the couch with an unreadable expression on bis face.

“We are careful,” 

Bobby raises an eyebrow at him, “Really? You tried to pass off the hickeys on Julie’s neck as rashes.” 

“And Reggie bought it, remember? He went out and got ointment for her and everything,” 

“He’s not stupid, Luke. You better do something about this. Fast,” 

Luke sighs, “You’re right.” 

Later that night, Luke pulls Julie into the upstairs bathroom, the one between her room and Reggie’s, to talk. 

“Jules, as much I want to keep doing this... I can’t stand lying to Reggie,” 

“Me too,” she says, “So, let’s just tell him. I don’t like hiding you.” 

“But we need to plan it out. We can’t just spring it on him,” 

“Catch him in a good mood hopefully, and we’ll tell him together,” 

“Sounds like a plan, boss,” 

“Love it when you call me boss,” Julie smiles, angling her head up to kiss him. 

Just then, the door connecting to Reggie’s room bursts open and the said bassist enters in his bathrobe. His eyes grow wide at the sight of them tangled up in each other. 

“What is going on here?” 

The couple breaks apart. Julie and Luke jump to opposite sides of the bathroom, hands up in surrender. 

“You didn’t lock the doors?” Julie hisses at Luke

“Was not my main priority!” Then Luke steps forward in an attempt to calm Reggie down, “Hey, Reg, pal, um, what you just saw-” 

“You guys were kissing in here?” he yells. 

Julie and Luke lower their heads, “...yeah,” 

Reggie sighs, throwing his hands up in the air, “Unbelievable!”

“Reggie, we’re sorry-” 

“In the bathroom, really? Can’t you guys do this in the laundry room like you usually do? My toothbrush is here, come on!”  

Wait. What?

Did they hear him correctly? 

“You knew?!” Julie all but screamed at her brother. 

“Duh. You’re not really subtle,” 

Luke splutters, “B-But Nick-” 

“Found out real quick that he’s not the one I should be worried about,”

“And the... the, well..?”  Julie gestures lamely at her neck, “Why did you get me ointment?” 

Reggie smirks, “Just to mess with you.” 

“So... you’re not mad?”

“Nah. Like I said. I need to make sure whatever guy you end up with, Jules, is good enough for you. And, well, I’ve known Luke almost all my life. And I trust him. Honestly, there’s no other guy I could think of that could be a better match for you.” 

Luke’s hand rests on his shoulder, “You mean that, Reg?” 

“Of course. I’m happy for you guys. But uh...” he sticks his thumb towards the door, “Could you like skip on out of here. I did come to the bathroom for a reason.” 

“Oh, right,” 

“Your Tia’s chicken went right through me-” 

“Ok, Reggie! We’re leaving!” 

“But one more thing,” 

Luke and Julie stop in the doorway leading to the hallway. 

“If you think I’m bad,” Reggie shakes his head, “Try breaking the news to Carlos,” 

Luke pales, “Oh no,”

“’Oh no’ is right,” 

The couple spins around to find Carlos in the hallway, arms crossed, staring them down, “Care to explain why you two were in the bathroom?”

“Well, uh, um, we were-” Luke turns to Julie, but the girl is nowhere to be found, having already yeeted to her room to escape an overprotective Carlos. 

Luke throws a pleading look at Reggie, “A little help here, buddy?”  

Meanwhile, Carlos is unamused, carrying so much tension in his small body that it has Luke gulping nervously. 

“Nope you’re on your own,” he winks, “Make sure to tell him about the ‘rash’ while you’re at it.”

And with a laugh, the bathroom door closes. 

“I can explain...” 

[land-of-brains-and-chocolate]

here’s the entirety of the paywalled businessinsider article interviewing charles beacham about marvel’s racism in staffing and editorial decisions! 

In the early 2010s, Marvel's comics business focused on a diverse slate of new characters, but by 2017 comic sales had fallen, which resulted in the exit of editor-in-chief Axel Alonso.

Three former Marvel editors and one current editor told Business Insider that in the years since, Marvel has recommitted to nostalgia and classic, mostly white characters, often at the expense of some of those diverse characters like Miles Morales, a biracial teenage Spider-Man.

That shift was guided by an editorial department that lacked diversity, particularly in leadership roles. Today, there are no Black staffers on Marvel's editorial team of about 18 people, and only two people of color, Marvel confirmed.

"My voice and what I brought to the table wasn't valued equally," said Charles Beacham, one of two Black editorial staffers to work at Marvel in the past five years.

Have a tip? Email the author at tclark@businessinsider.com or DM him on Twitter @TravClark2.

Visit Business Insider's homepage for more stories.

Miles Morales was the character who pulled Charles Beacham into the world of comics.

Beacham was studying journalism at Brigham Young University, in Utah, when he walked into a comics shop in 2011 and picked up a copy of Morales' first appearance. Beacham, who is Black, said he was amazed to see Morales — a teenage Spider-Man who has a Black father and Puerto Rican mother — in its pages.

"When I was growing up, I always wanted to be the red Power Ranger, and the other kids would say I had to be the black Ranger," Beacham said. "The same thing happened with Spider-Man. They'd say, 'You can't be Spider-Man because Peter Parker's not a Black dude.' Seeing Miles Morales made me wish I had that as a kid."

Morales propelled Beacham into comics and into Marvel itself, where he worked as an assistant editor.

"I didn't have job prospects when I moved to New York in 2013, but the goal was to work for Marvel because of Miles Morales," Beacham said. When he landed a job at the company the next year, he loved it.

But Beacham, now 31, was living in New York City with a child on a $38,000 salary. He said that after three years as an assistant editor, from 2014 to 2017, without a promotion, he was ready to leave. It wasn't about the money as much as the lack of a path forward.

"I thought I'd be at Marvel forever," he said. "If they had promoted me I'd probably still be there and surviving on ramen."

Beacham is one of two Black editorial staffers to have worked at Marvel in the past five years, the company confirmed. The second Black staffer, also an assistant editor, left this year after five years without a promotion or raise, a person familiar with the matter said. The editorial team of about 18 people now has two people of color.

"I want to be back there all the time," Beacham said. "But when it comes down to it, my voice and what I brought to the table wasn't valued equally."

Disney-owned Marvel has grown into a cultural force that extends beyond its comic books and into movies, video games, and other media. The comics are the foundation for it all, including the Marvel Cinematic Universe, which has become the highest-grossing movie franchise of all time.

The stories that Marvel's small editorial team helps shape are central to popular culture in the US and around the world.

"Who works on these stories can help broaden them," said Regine Sawyer, the founder of Women in Comics Collective International, which helps to spotlight the comics work of marginalized people.

That was clear from 2011 to 2017, when Marvel ushered in a new era for its comic books under then editor-in-chief Axel Alonso, who is Mexican American.

New and diverse characters like Morales took center stage instead of Marvel's decades-old classic characters, who were primarily white. These characters inspired new fans like Beacham, and continue to inspire new fans as they make their way to other media.

But by 2017, Marvel's comic sales had fallen. Marvel's president of sales, David Gabriel, publicly blamed it on diversity. Alonso exited the company and was replaced by a white man in the role of top editor. Marvel reversed course.

Now, in the aftermath of the killing of George Floyd and the protests that followed, Marvel is promising to once again introduce more diversity to its ranks and its stories.

Marvel chairman Ike Perlmutter sent a letter to employees on June 18 saying the company would "support more Black voices."

And in a memo to staff sent July 6, Marvel's president, Dan Buckley, outlined three areas of focus for Marvel moving forward:

broaden Marvel's creative landscape, which includes identifying "what has traditionally prevented us in the industry from recruiting and fostering more BIPOC talent."

build a foundation of lasting growth by "examining our internal culture and rebuilding our long-term process for talent recruitment, retention, and outreach to communities of color."

create new initiatives and expansion opportunities by "looking to explore new projects that will enable us to reach and represent an even broader audience."

In addition to Beacham, Business Insider spoke with two former Marvel editors and a current editor. Aside from Beacham, the Marvel insiders spoke on condition of anonymity to protect their stance at the company or job prospects. They said they weren't confident in Marvel's latest initiative.

"The guy who made a commitment to diversity and wanted to try new things was fired," a former Marvel staffer said, referring to Alonso.

'Spider-Man with an asterisk'

Alonso led Marvel through a bold era during his time as editor-in-chief starting in 2011, helping to establish a diverse slate of characters.

Jane Foster was the new Thor. Sam Wilson, aka the Falcon, a Black character, replaced Steve Rogers as Captain America. Riri Williams, a Black girl, was introduced as an Iron Man-like character named Ironheart. Kamala Khan, a Pakistani American Muslim teenager, was the new Ms. Marvel.

It wasn't a new phenomenon in comic books. Characters are regularly passing on their mantles, at least for a while. Dick Grayson, the first Robin, was DC's Batman for a time in the early 2010s, for instance. Sam Wilson wasn't the first person to take over as Captain America. This era at Marvel Comics, however, was notable for how it emphasized diversity.

But by 2017 — Alonso's final year as editor-in-chief — the company's print sales had plummeted (Marvel in 2014 said that Ms. Marvel's solo title was a top seller digitally, but digital comics sales aren't released to the public).

"What we heard is that people didn't want any more diversity," David Gabriel, the vice president of sales at Marvel Entertainment, said that year in an interview with ICv2, a website that covers the comics business.

"I don't know that that's really true, but that's what we saw in sales," Gabriel said. "Any character that was diverse, any character that was new, our female characters, anything that was not a core Marvel character, people were turning their nose up."

What Gabriel meant by "core Marvel character" were the classic, decades-old characters being sidelined for new, younger, and more diverse characters.

Seven months later, in November 2017, Marvel's Alonso stepped down from his role and was replaced by C.B. Cebulski, a white man who faced controversy when he was hired after admitting to writing comics in the early 2000s under a Japanese pseudonym.

"The comics that [Alonso] made me think I could work in comics," Beacham said. "But when a Latinx guy is scapegoated for diversity and replaced by a white dude, and the sentiment was that Marvel was 'getting away from its roots,' what does that mean?"

In a statement after his 2017 comments, Gabriel emphasized that "our new heroes are not going anywhere."

But in the months between that retailer summit and Alonso's exit, Marvel introduced an initiative for editorial staff that had been discussed internally for some time: Phase out the familiar superhero codenames for some newer, diverse characters and give them their own, two former assistant editors including Beacham said.

Marvel confirmed to Business Insider that it had previously considered stripping Morales of his Spider-Man title and giving him a new name, but has no plans to do so right now. Marvel added that it discusses status quo changes for all of its top characters.

Today, some of the classic characters have been thrust back into the spotlight. Steve Rogers has taken back the mantle of Captain America, and Thor is a man again. Miles Morales shares the Spider-Man title with Peter Parker, the original Spider-Man.

Morales has grown in popularity beyond comic books, having starred in Sony's Oscar-winning animated "Into the Spider-Verse" movie in 2018 and in a coming PlayStation video game called "Spider-Man: Miles Morales."

Beacham said he was glad that Morales continued to be a Spider-Man.

"It would have made him less important," Beacham said of Morales' losing the Spider-Man title. "He becomes Spider-Man with an asterisk. It takes away the power for kids who relate to this character."

'There's not a lack of people who can do the work'

Now, Marvel's comic-book slate is once again largely focused on classic characters, though characters like Morales and Khan remain. And there are some comics starring diverse characters from creators of color, like Ta-Nehisi Coates' "Black Panther." But their stories are in the hands of an editorial department run by an establishment of white male leadership.

"There's not a lack of people who can do the work," said Yumy Odom, the founder of the East Coast Black Age of Comics Convention, which helps to showcase the talents of creators of color. "But it's about how receptive the industry is to them. I can think of 20 creators, mostly African Americans, who would be ready to work at Marvel."

Women faced an uphill battle at Marvel as well, the Marvel editors said. A female former assistant editor told Business Insider that she was never promoted or given a raise from her $30,000 salary in her three years at the company. She said she got promoted within a year at her new company, a different comics publisher.

Marvel declined to discuss employee salaries.

The Marvel insiders said a notable exception was Sana Amanat, who is Pakistani American and a former editor. She is now Marvel's head of content and character development, a leadership role outside the editorial department.

'There's a whole cohort of young readers'

Marvel has significantly bounced back from its 2017 sales decline, which might suggest that the refocus on its classic characters reeled longtime readers back.

Of the top 100 best-selling comics of 2020 so far, 69 belonged to Marvel, as of Wednesday, including four of the top five, and the company has accounted for 41% of comic sales this year, according to industry website Comichron. Three years ago, Marvel was lagging behind DC, its biggest competitor.

An example of the start of this resurgence was the first issue of Marvel's "Amazing Spider-Man" relaunch — starring the original Spider-Man, Peter Parker — which ranked fifth in 2018 out of all comics, according to data from Comichron. In contrast, when Marvel launched a series called "Miles Morales Spider-Man" in that year, the debut issue didn't crack the top 200 best-selling comics.

"People of a certain age have a connection with Peter Parker, not Miles Morales," a former Marvel staffer said. "Years from now, that may be different."

The current and former Marvel staffers Business Insider spoke with said they were hopeful that readership could broaden, particularly now that characters such as Morales and Khan are being introduced to audiences in other media like movies and TV. Khan is to appear in a Disney Plus TV series and the upcoming "Avengers" video game, for instance.

There are signs that the comics industry is going through a larger shift in how people read and who is reading, which could also spur change.

Last year, comic sales through the "book channel" — which includes chain and independent book stores and online retailers like Amazon — surpassed comic-book stores for the first time, driven by the increased popularity in children's graphic novels, according to an analysis by ICv2.

Milton Griepp, the chief executive of ICv2, said at the New York Comic Con conference last year that the shift could usher in a new audience for superhero comic books.

"There's a whole cohort of young readers that are being introduced to this medium and may graduate to other forms of content in the comic format over the course of their lifespans," Griepp said.

Beacham said: "Marvel needs to figure out the next stage of its core demographic because it could change rapidly."

[what-the--curtains]

There Are No Wolves in the Desert

Part 4- A Story in the Sand

(Oberyn Martell x f!reader)

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Summary: A crime scene leads to Arianne’s captors, freeing her however is an entirely new problem.

Authors Note: hello all you lovely people! Sorry for the wait but motivation still evades me! Thank you for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy this part!! Ill be moving this week so ill be MIA for a bit hope yall r staying heathy and safe💕💕💕

TW: mentions and allusions to sex (nothing depicted), blood, nudity, swearing

Word count: 6.4k

Tagged: @evyiione, @xsadderdazeforeverx , @agingerindenial, @ayamenimthiriel

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

The red hues of the rising sun paint the outside of the wooden stables that you walk towards. The smell of straw and manure fills your nostrils as you enter through its immaculate doors, the shade of the structure cooling you off as you take note of Oberyn. He had for-gone his typical golden hued robes for armour not too dissimilar from yours. A single horse standing in the cross ties.

“Can you ride or will we ride together?” he questions, hand smoothing the colourful fabric over the creature's back.

“I can ride, my prince,” you say, smirking slightly as he turns to face you.

“I think I'll be the judge of that,” he quips.

‘”I meant a horse,” you retorted flatly, spreading a map and Arianne’s journal down on a nearby table.

“Did you? are you sure,” he whispers in your ear, before looking down at the map from over your shoulder.

“Your daughter handed me this yesterday,” you say, ignoring the sudden heat rushing over your body and looking down at the map.

“What is that?” he asks

“Ariannes journal,” you reply.

“They must have broken into her chambers to get it,” he murmurs

“Broken in?” you question head turning back to him, causing him to return to his full height.

“She was under strict watch until, well now. What do the pages say?” Oberyn probes.

“ She’d been planning on leaving for some time, though she doesn't go into detail. I assume it's due to being locked up like a common prisoner. She convinced those that brought her food and guarded her to help her escape,” you say “My brother feared she would be murdered after our sisters death, so he kept her under close watch, ” Oberyn admits

“He made her a prisoner, in her own home,” you spit

“I did not say he’s reasons were valid,” he remarks, watching you eye him. “By the looks of it she was planning on heading to Norvos,” you state, making a mark on the large map. “which means if she's as smart as her entries would have me believe, they would have taken the longer cut through the desert, to avoid any bandit groups, or watchguards,” you continue, tracing the route down on the map, “do you know the surrounding terrain well?”

“Yes it’s flat sand mainly, a few rock forests, some dunes. The heat is the main concern, or perhaps the lack of water, and the scorpions of course,” he lists, unfazed.

“It's about a day's journey, so we will have to make camp at night, though I am more than capable of going alone, if you are needed here,” you say, turning to face him, giving him an out, assuming he preferred the comforts of the palace.

“I am needed to find my niece,” he assures you dutiful to his role as ever.

“Then we should depart as soon as we can” you say, as the stable boy reappears with another horse for you. It nudges its long nose into your back, pushing you forward slightly Oberyn's hand stopping you from hitting into his body. You turn, a smile spreading across your face as you chuckle in disbelief.

“rytsas uēpa raqiros” *Hello old friend* you whisper, resting your head against its snout.

“Seems you know one another, ” Oberyn says.

“I sold this horse three years ago to one of your palace guards,” you chuckle as it nudges into your face “or did you know that already?” you ask, looking back to him.

“I may be good, but I'm not that good,” he admits “ it seems destiny has brought you here after all.”

“Destiny or fate?” you question

“Does it make a difference?”

“All the difference in the world,” you say stroking the creature's long nose, its large eyes blinking at you, ears relaxed.

“She reminds me of you,” Oberyn states.

“Is it the hair,” you remark and he laughs, caught off guard by your making jokes.

“Perhaps, do you need a saddle?”

“I can make do without one,” you say, hoisting yourself up onto the back of your horse before following Oberyn out the gates into the Dornish wilderness.

“I wasn't aware they spoke High Valyrian in the north, nor that the schools taught it,” Oberyn states, turning around on his horse to face you. His eyes sparkled in the sun, the hint of playfulness dancing on his face as he began to engage you in conversation.

“gaomis daor” *they do not* you say smiling at the look on Oberyn's face as he tries to parse out the language from the multitude of others he had learnt as a child. Perhaps he should have paid closer attention to his studies.

“You don't speak it?” You ask, surprised considering his accolades. “Not as well as I should and not since my school days,” he admits, immediately regretting his decision when a wicked grin crosses your face.. “kostilus lo ēdā pikībagon tolī pār ēdā ēdas qogror ao'd gīmigon skoros vestran” *perhaps if you had read more, then you'd know what I was saying* you laugh, causing Oberyn to grumble before turning back ahead. You kick into a canter, pulling up beside him to continue your provocation. “kostilus nyke kessa ánghowa ao isse Valyrīha pār” *perhaps I will insult you in Valyrian then*

“I do know a few words, sīr urnēbagon aōha ēngos,” *so watch your tongue* he shoots back clumsily causing you to chuckle slightly watching his jaw clench eyes looking to you, almost annoyed. Seeing the look on his face you break off into a canter and he follows suite.

The two of you ride in relative silence until the sky sinks into a deep indigo, the black of night creeping up threatening to expose the stars.

“Shall we make camp here?” he questions and you halt your horse, hopping down to assess the area. You push on the few standing trees, sturdy enough to tie the horses too for the night. The area was open, exposed, but so was everywhere in the desert. You roll a dead log over and a scorpion scurries out. You stab it with your knife.

“Should do for the night, though we should keep watch just in case,” you say gazing up to him as he dismounts. Opening the side satchel and retrieving your provisions for the next day and a half. You break off a portion of the deadwood pairing it with the desert grass as kindling, blowing on the ember until it turns to flame. While Dorne remained hot throughout the year, its winter months were marked by cold nights, the desert retaining little heat and temperatures becoming frigid.

You shuffle through the bag you had packed pulling out a long rope wrapping it around the camp area.

“Afraid of snakes my lady?” Oberyn queries, a laugh dancing on his lips.

“Only the venomous ones,” you retort as you lay the rope flat, ends overlapping. “What about vipers?” he asks, prodding the fire causing the flames to flicker, the sparks beginning to burn bright as night falls.

“Gentler then I initially thought, still deadly however, always lying in wait. If pushed their prey doesn't stand a chance. I do hope I have no reason to fear a viper attack,” you respond as you drag the remaining driftwood into the circle huffing as you let it drop, slightly displeased that Oberyn had taken the optimal resting spot beneath the two trees. You drop to the sand propping yourself up, chest heaving. You shoot him a glare for not helping you as he throws you half a loaf of bread and some cured meats the palace chefs had prepared.

“You have no reason to fear me, though that glare has me fearing for myself,” he chuckles, tearing off a piece of the dried meat with his teeth. Your glare softens, something about the Prince often managing to lessen your frustration.

‘I wasn’t sure you’d be able to sleep outside your usual comforts,” you say, chewing on the salted meat, eyes looking just above his head.

“I attended a brothel before I left. Such pleasures make trips such as these much more… bearable,” he admits, tearing off a corner of the bread and popping it in his mouth.

“Especially when the return promises a warm bed and warm hole to bury yourself in,” you state, causing Oberyn to choke on a piece of bread coughing it up before breaking into a deep laugh.

“Did you parents ever teach you proper manners, or is it true the northerners are as brutish as the rumours claim,” he ponders gleefully, wiping his lower lip slowly with his thumb, eyes still on you.

“My apologies, must be easier for you to have a man or woman to bury yourself into at the end of such a displeasing trip with such unsatisfying company my prince,” you offer, smiling sarcastically at him.

“Perhaps I'll have to do something about that tongue of yours discipline you, seeing as no one else had bothered,” he remarks, eyes darker, slightly more dangerous than before. You squeeze your thighs together shifting your weight slightly, his words sending a sensation through you.

“Or you could save time and have me hung,” you offer, trying to direct your attention away from the heat pooling at your core.

“That would save me hours, but it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun,” he confesses, beginning to grow bolder as he watches your positive reactions to his words.

“This is all very improper,” you say stoically, “you are a prince after all, you should know better than to speak to your subjects in such an adulterous manner,” you prod,

“Princes are well known for disciplining those who speak out of turn,” he says

“All princes or just those who sleep with half of Westeros?” you chide

“You say that as if it is an insult, your puritanical Westeros beliefs would lead you to see me as a walking sin,” he states, head thrown back in a building laughter.

“Aren’t you though?”

“I see something I want and if they want me I take them, there is nothing wrong there,”

“Your daughter seems to think, you only invited me back to the safety of your home based on my appearance” you state, keen to find out if he merely saw you as another pretty thing to have.

“And what if that was true,” he queries

“then you're not the man I believed you to be. To show kindness to someone solely because of there face,” you scoff, shaking your head

“Perhaps you have mistaken me then, though I would have allowed anyone to stay safely in the walls if needed, besides I find beauty in all the sun shines down on,” he says, confused as to what he had said to upset you, you were beautiful he’d be foolish not to pursue you.

“I'll take the first watch,” you say, tiring of the conversation at hand.

“I…” Oberyn begins, but you cut him off.

“I insist, you are a prince after all and I am but a humble subject, my duty is to watch out for you,” you state, he raises eyebrows before leaning back against the tree crossing his arms over his chest and falling asleep.

The moon was bright tonight and it's cool tones paired with the fire’s warm hues illuminated the prince in a magnificent way. You study his handsome features as you try to unpack the feelings that had been clawing their way out of the cage you had built around your heart. You pull Robbs knife out holding it up hoping for some kind of divine sign you suppose, but nothing comes. You loved Robb, you thought of him every day and every day you hoped that he’d return, or that you’d wake up and he would be next to you, all of this nothing more than a bad dream. But you knew such thoughts were foolish, Robb was dead, he wasn’t coming back to you, at least not in this life. Your eyes rise once again to Oberyn. You watch his chest rise and fall, longing to feel his arms wrap around you, but this thought was equally as foolish. His flirtatious nature towards you was obvious, but it was the same with everyone. As he said, he finds beauty in all the sun shine down on and those he finds beautiful he brings to his chambers. You weren’t willing to abandon your husband for a brief moment of fleeting passion. Besides you were sure he’d be bored of you when the morning came. Your future held no such luxury of finding peace with another, no any hopes of that died long ago. You lean back against the log waiting for the sun to rise, problems always seemingly less heavy in the warm glow of the morning. The sun begins to creep over the horizon, the fire only embers now. You throw sand over it snuffing it out before lightly kicking Oberyn's boot. He opens one eye first, displeased as the being awoken as such much preferring waking in the arms of two or three, or four lovers, though he would have happily settled for a single individual had they asked. He looks up to see you illuminated by the sun, a golden aura radiating around you.

“Why didn't you wake me sooner” he asks, both eyes now open and alert to the fact you had let him sleep through the night. “Wasn't tired, besides you're much more agreeable when you're asleep,” you joke, smirking down at him. “You’re more agreeable when I'm asleep as well,” he retorts, causing you to chuckle

“Not far now my prince,” you say reaching your hand out and pulling him up.

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

The sun radiates off the desert sand, a stark contrast from the cold of the night. You’re sweating heavily when you bring your horse to a halt, Oberyn mimicking your behaviour watching as you dismounted into what appeared to be yet another expanse of the desert. You kneel down on the sand wincing at the pull of an old injury. The surface is hot to touch. You run your fingers through the first few layers, it's cool beneath. Noticing a small dip in the ground you crawl ahead a few inches. You scoop up the sand bringing it to your nose, the smell of copper fills your nostrils, you dig a little deeper. The sand has clumped together. Liquid had been spilt here, but there had been no rain for at least a fortnight. This, this was blood. You stand up scanning for other dips in the ground, potential burials, any weapons, a trail of blood, but there's nothing but the small indentation where you stood.

“How old is Arianne?” you ask

“10 and 6” Oberyn responds, still mounted on his horse staring down at you doubtfully.

“Is she a slight girl?” you continue to question.

“Average sized,”

“Less than a large foot soldier though?” you ask, beginning to get frustrated with his refusal to directly answer your question.

‘Yes,” Oberyn answers, brow creased as the sun hits his eyes. Too much blood for a girl her age. Something glinting in the sun catches the corner of your eye and you bend down retrieving the reflective arrow tip. Only then do you notice the trails, likely left by footprints, evidence of hand to hand combat.

“There was a fight, it began here, but it's not where it ended, how many men were with her?” you ask

“Three,” he says, watching you staring in the distance towards a large dune “what do you see?” he queries, increasingly interested in the inner workings of your mind.

“Carrion,” you say walking back towards him.

“Vultures?”

“Could be a dead animal, could be human,” you say swinging yourself back up onto your horse and trotting towards the birds which scatter upon your arrival. The dune covered a deep windswept valley, large rock formations created by high speed winds decorating the basin.

The maze stretches a few hundred miles, as you begin to descend your foot kicks something heavy, causing you to curse the gods loudly as Oberyn arrives by your side. Before he can ask if you’re injured your on your knees digging at the area, pulling out a metal shoulder piece

“One of yours?” you ask

“ Yes that our sigil” he says, watching your nose scrunch in disgust.

“Do you smell that?” you ask.

“No,” he admits

“Death,” you say, his face hardens as you continue down the dune, following your nose through the rock formations. Oberyn follows you curiously through the naturally formed maze. He sees you standing, and his eyes follow your line of sight up until he sees what has stopped you. Three bodies slowly decomposing in the heat, skin pecked at by scavengers, a large pile of ash beneath them.

“Must have been her carriage,” you say crouching down, most of the pile had blown away only the heavier fragments left, a few large pieces of wood and metal, you brush it away, revealing a locket among the ash. You pick it up dusting it off before offering the locket to Oberyn. You watch his knuckles turn white clutching at the chain. He’d given this to Arianne for her birthday.

“Is she,” Oberyn hisses, an anger radiating through his body.

“No. There's no sign of a burnt body, ” you reassure and he exhales,

“These men they did not deserve this death even if they plotted against the crown princes wishes,”

“I can lead a party out, another day make sure they are returned to their families and buried properly.” “Thank you,” Oberyn says..

“ This was an ambush,” You assure, it was carefully planned out, but how could they have known that she was planning on leaving? “but it…” you continue, shaking your head letting your thoughts trail off.

“What?” he asks staring down at you in wonderment

“It didn’t occur here,” your forehead scrunched a look of perplexity and complete concentration etched on your face “why did they move the bodies here, and the carriage just to burn it, that’s a lot of effort.”

“To hide the evidence, they knew we’d come looking for her,” Oberyn offers as an explanation.

“ If they had burnt it where it occurred then buried it, we'd never find them. This” you say painting to the bodies “this was a warning, posting them up like this they knew we would find them here. Why here, why not where the fight occurred.” “To discredit them in death” he offers again, watching your head suddenly look up, eyes scanning.

“How many men,”

“Three,” he repeats “All trained in combat?”

“They would have been at least able to hold a spear, to guard the princess,” before he can finish, you turn on your heel and rush back to the horses, remounting and heading back to the skirmish site.

By the time Oberyn reaches you, your elbow is deep in the sand. Oberyn was right, these were good men, ones who deserved a burial. A similar thought would have likely crossed the minds of the ambushers. Returning to wherever they came from with even one dead body would be too much of a task, they would have had to abandon their fallen. But they wouldn't have abandoned their religion, a burial at an unmarked grave is better than none after all, and one skilled dornish fighter would have taken down at least one opponent. Your nails fill with sand, the heat scorching your skin and you dig towards your answers. He watches as an arm appears and he crouches down next to you about to help unbury the rest but place your hand on his chest. Gripping the dead man's hand you lift up his hand, a ring, a golden lion forged into existence, eyes looking up to him.

“Lannister” he spits

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

The two of you stroll through the trees dressing the mountain, the cover of shade paired with the sun going down offering a cold more resemblant of your home especially as you climb higher towards the peak. Despite your initial uneasiness about being led far into the mountain alone with one of the deadliest men in the seven kingdoms, he had assured you he merely wanted to speak freely away from the court. As the trees part you come upon the mountain top where snow was beginning to fall. Your eyes then go to a series of ancient ruins, a hearth burning in the middle, tapestries draped along the pillars and a bed made up, with furs. Your heart skips as you turn to look up at Oberny who for once looks nervous.

“You said you missed the cold, this is as cold as it gets here, a small thank you for finding the evidence needed. I do not think anyone else would have figured it out,” he says as a feeling you hadn’t felt in years coming over you.

“Thank you” you whisper, kissing him on the check, warming him through, “but I'm sure any good tracker would have found the same,” you state, pushing back off him and turning to face the outlook, attempting to hide your sudden embarrassment.

“There are guards a mile down shout if you need them, thought I doubt they would be able to protect you better than you could protect yourself , i'll collect you tomorrow, if you’d like,” he says

“I’d like that very much,” you admit, and he smiles before heading back towards the woods.

“Prince Oberyn,” you call, and he stops turning back “Thank you,” he nods and walks off

You remove your clothes and stand in the breeze allowing the chill to ripple over your body until goosebumps form. You smile and let out a slow breath a cloud forming in front of you, as snow falls lightly around you. It was a reminder of home and you close your eyes, a tear falling as you exhale. You walk towards the ruins and settle under the sheets, the crackling of the fire lulling you to sleep until you hear footsteps approaching, multiple men.

You grab your dagger and throw it. It hits one in the jugular, blood spurting out as you roll out of the bed and duck behind the ruins near the body. You’re preparing to fight when a spear pierces the air impaling one of the approaching figures causing the other to turn towards the woods. He doesn't make it far. A strong arm stops him and slits his throat. You relax when you see Oberyn appear from the shadows.

“Lady Stark, I heard of an attempt, I apologize for...” His words are cut short and his jaw drops when he sees you walk out from behind the ruins to your tunic pulling it over your naked skin.

“Careful, my prince you'll catch flies,” you chuckle, before dragging one of the bodies over the cliff.

“I can see why he screwed over an entire kingdom to marry you,” he says, doing the same with the assassin closest to him.

“You couldn't see that before you saw me naked? Help me with this,” you say, grabbing the final man's feet as Oberyn grabs his arms.

“Even more so now. You have more scars than I had thought, do you have a favorite?” He asks as you both throw the body down the mountain side.

“I do, care to hazard a guess,” you say, wiping your hands clean.

“I'd need a longer look,” he offers, raising his eyebrows.

“Of that i'm sure, I must thank you again for tonight, seems as though my life is owed to you twice over,”

“Perhaps I can ask another favour then, As for now it's late and a long walk back, so I will be on my way,” he bows his head before turning on his heels.

“Why don’t you stay, as it's such a long way down,” you ask, eyes down, suddenly feeling overly exposed, more so than when you stood naked before him.

“Only if you wish,” he says, surprised you’d allow him to stay in the same bed as you.

“Only if you think you can brave the cold for the night” you say returning to the bed after reclaiming your knife. He joins you shortly after, removing the top half of his attire, despite preferring to sleep completely bare, he wasn't about to make you feel uncomfortable. He shivers in the cold, while this chill was likely nothing to you, Oberyn had rarely spent time in anything below comfortably warm. His shiver continues even beneath the furs and you feel it.

“I'd like to see you In the north, you wouldn't last a month,” you murmur, turning to your side facing his direction.

“Are you saying I'm soft?” he asks, remaining on his back, head turning to you, a slightly disgruntled look on his face.

“No, but you're not weathered,” you state, sitting up removing one of the furs covering you and placing it over Oberyn who looks up, the warmth of your breath clouding in the air, as snow falls lightly around you, not a goosebump on your body.

“Not like you late husband” he questions pulling the blanket up to himself and you ignore him, laying back down. “Do you think he would truly wish you to be alone? To live the rest of your life without pleasure?” Oberyn, queries, upset at the notion of you alone.

“No…but,” you begin,

“but what, you do not do him a disservice by allowing another to give you love.” Oberyn stresses, begging to warm.

“Is that what you offer?” you ask, a look of suspicion on your face.

“Yes,” he offers earnestly, shifting up onto his arm so the blankets fall slightly.

“As you do all you find appealing,” you state, eyes locked on his bare chest.

“yes, and no,” he says, hand going down lifting your eyes to meet his “I enjoy divulging in all of life's pleasures, my body belongs to all those that catch my eye, but my heart I do reserve that primarily for one” he says softly, your heart now beating faster than it ever had.

“Reserved” you correct, quietly.

“Ellaria was my greatest love, I would have kept her with me until the end, had the Lannisters not taken her from me,” his hand now dancing over the wound above your shoulder, eyes still boring into yours, leaving you nowhere to hide.

“Then you know how I feel,” you whisper breathlessly.

“No, my heart is willing to accept love again because I knew that is what she would want. I fear you are unable to see that it is what your husband would have wanted as well,”

“Part of me died that day on the docks, part of my heart will always be with him, but today I thought...maybe” you stutter, a tear falling from your eye rolling down your cheek, you go to brush it away embarrassed, but Oberyn beats you to it. Gently wiping it before running his thumb softly along your cheekbone.

“It is not a betrayal of your love for him, I do not presume you to abandon him, I wish merely to bring you some semblance of joy.”

With that you roll over so you straddling him and he sits up hand reaching to the back of your head pulling you down to meet his lips. A fire builds inside you upon contact and your hands move to your tunic, only parting from his lips to rip it from your body. You look down hesitantly, unsure it was what he would have expected, or what he wanted, not as pretty and smooth as those of the brothel. Oberyn no longer shivering even with the blankets fallen to the side, eyes drinking in every ounce of your being.

“Are you sure?” Oberyn asks, hands running up and down your sides.

“Yes,” you say firmly, before leaning down kissing him again.

He'd kept you close to him in the night even after you’d tried to pull away to the other side of the bed. You had been right, one appeal of the cold was being trapped beneath the naked body of one you loved. He wakes first, trailing his fingers lightly across your body until he sees your eyes bat open.

“Now I really understand why he risked his reign for you,” Oberyn whispers, kissing your scrunched up forehead. You yawn, detaching from him and maneuvering onto your back as His hand trails over the wound above your shoulder “ this is your favourite” he states and you look up to him, “I guessed correctly” he laughs at the way your mouth hangs open.

“How?”

“You can track lands, I can track bodies” he says, placing a kiss over it trailing up to your lips.

“Can you now?”

“I thought you knew that, based on your loud approval last night,” he remarks and you shake your head chuckling slightly “If you don’t remember, perhaps I can remind you this morning” he says nipping at your jaw and dipping below the sheets.

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

You return together the next morning only to see the crown prince pacing frantically

“Brother, come now a council has been called,” he gestures for you to follow and you do

“Who is this?” he asks, pointing at you.

“Someone who has a stake in the game”

“ Arianne is in king's landing, confirmed today by this letter penned by Cersei herself,” Doran confesses as the advisors close the doors to the marbled room.

‘What?” he spits, tearing the piece of paper from between Dorans hands.

“They have taken her, stating she was plotting to murder the Lannister princess,” Doran says

“Was she?” you whisper to Tyene who shrugs her shoulders.

“She awaits a trial, a trial by combat” Doran continues

“Bastards,” Oberyn exclaimed, hands slamming down on the stone table. “ Send me brother, I will fight for her, I will get you daughter. I have done it once, I shall do so again.”

“If you go they kill you in the streets,” Tyene pipes up, causing her father to turn to her.

“I’d like to see them try, ” Obery spits, more fire than you’d ever seen radiating around him, as the room breaks out into pointless bickering.

“Let me go,” you interject all those in the room turning to face you.

“And, why would I allow one of my brothers whores to go and retrieve my daughter?” Doran scoffs.

“because, I would very much like to gain some kind of revenge on those who butchered my husband and all the events that occurred the night of the red wedding.” You say pulling down your hood, exposing your identity to the room full of strangers.

“Lady Stark, but you’re supposed to be dead,” the grand maester whispers.

“Medical marvel,” you assure

“And you would fight for us,” Doran queries Tyene and the rest of the scattered sand snakes staring at you.

“I would,if any of your family ventures to Kings Landing they will be killed on sight. I on the other hand am the last person they would expect to show up. Though, I must admit my business there may extend over to a few other debts the Lannisters owe me”

“This activity?” another council member begins to probe

“Would only occur after Arianne is safely back on a ship,” you see Oberyn fidget “with proper antivenoms, anti poisons, everything and a skilled healer on board, just in case”

“You would remain there for how long after?”

“Only for a few extra hours perhaps a day, you would have no role to play in my removal, I am more than capable of finding my own way out,” you promise

“Who fights for the Lannisters?” Nymeria asks,

“They say a man carved from stone, reanimated from the dead, the size of two men” The grand maester begins, “It's rumoured the queens sorcerer managed to salvage the Mountain after Oberyn's victory.”

“But those are just rumours sprouted from venomous tongues, as such my offer still stands,” you assure.

“No,'' Oberyn interjected, eyes narrowed at you, shooting daggers. Your head turns on a swivel, furious.

“Why not? I am capable” you explain.

“Did you not hear them, the mountain fights for the Lannister”

“I've taken down worse,” you snap, all semblance of properness lost

“He’ll kill,” you he states calmly , his eyes stormy

“He didn’t kill you,” you retort

“No but I killed him and yet he is still alive, whatever that man is, is long gone,” The two of you locked in a glare, you failing to find a response that wouldn’t paint you as childish.

“Then we're in agreement, we find someone else,” he punctuates making you feel like a scolded child. The tension hangs heavy on the room, unsettling a few of the council members as your eyes bear into his before leaning back against the wall. As the meeting ends Oberyn waits by the door, but you refuse to move, you shoot him a glare and he raises his eyebrows shaking his head before exiting the room.

“Prince Doran, a word if I may,” you ask, as he passes by you. He hesitates but nods to his two advisors to carry on and turns to you.

“I will go, I will defeat the Mountain, or at least secure Arianne a contingency plan if all else fails.”

“My lady, I am afraid my brother will not have it...” he states.

“Your brother doesn't control me, and as you said I am just another of his whores. I am free to make whatever decision I see fit,” he sighs, scanning you up and down assessing whether you could be successful.

“You are sure you can retrieve her,” Doran asks, looking up into your eyes searching for the answer.

“I am sure I have a better chance at it than any of your family, ”

“We will have a ship on standby for you the following day,”

“No need, I do not expect to return from this,” you mutter and his eyes narrow, “I am no fool, the odds are not in my favour I fear, but I must try...” you pause nodding your head “I must try and make things right.”

“Oberyn?”

“Will know nothing of this, nothing of this meeting, or of this plan, hold a ship for me if you wish but do not hold out hope.”

“Arianne returns alive” he demands.

“I promise you that” you affirm before he calls for an advisor to escort him out the room.

As you exit the council room you begin towards Oberyn chambers. If you were to be gone tomorrow you knew where you wanted to be tonight. As you open the door you chuckle at the sight before you, Oberyn entangled with two of his lovers, both resting against his chest, sweaty and panting slightly. He leans over to kiss the man on his left before addressing you.

“I did not expect to see you here tonight,” he says as the woman bites at his jawline. “Why's that?” you question. “I thought you were going to rip my head off in that meeting,” he chuckles, pulling the woman's hair back to kiss her.

“I don’t enjoy my ability to choose being removed,” you scorn.

“Is that all you came to say?” he questions.

“I suppose, goodnight Prince Oberyn…” you begin, turning to exit, hoping to call him on his bluff.

“Vorian, take Fryenne to my guest chamber, show her a good time,” he says, slapping the man's ass as he exits the sheets. “Will you not join my Prince, I have always wanted to try a Targaryen,” she whispers into his ear, blushing slightly.

“Not tonight my dove, we have business to discuss,”

“Perhaps another time,” she says wistfully as she approaches you, running her hand up your arm planting a soft kiss on your lips before exiting. Your mouth hangs open brows gently creased at the sensation, your eyes following her out the room.

“You like that one?” Oberyn smirks as you draw your eyes back to him “one night with me and you’re a convert to my lifestyle,” he remarks shifting out of the bed naked as the day he was born walking over to the counter and decanting wine into a goblet.

“Do you wish to have this conversation fully clothed?” “I did not come here for a conversation,” you admit.

“Then why are you still dressed? Strip,” he demands, you narrow your eyes at him. He walks towards you, eyes darker “You would disobey a prince?” He asks, walking behind you, lips ghosting along your neck. “Strip. You will listen to me tonight especially after your performance in that meeting. You should know better than to speak out of turn,” he orders leading you towards his bed.

You're awake, watching the night pass until the first light begins to creep into the room. Oberyn's arms are wrapped around you, his warm breath hitting your neck. You had tried to leave earlier but his strong grasp had trapped you in place. If this was to be one of your last nights on this earth, you were glad to have spent it in his arms. You lie there until you feel him stir, mouth peppering kisses on your neck.

“I wish to go to the brothel, will you join me?” he mumbles into your neck and you shake your head.

“I can refrain and stay here for the morning,” he starts.

“No go on I am just too tired,” you whisper, kissing him lightly.

“Then rest I will return later,” he kisses your nose, then your forehead before rising and dressing

“Oberyn,” you say sitting up in the large bed pulling the silks up to cover your chest.

“Yes?” he says watching as your mouth opens. You’re trying to find words to express your feelings, but they never come.

“Nothing,” you say, offering a small smile. Oberyn makes it to the front door of the brothel but something in his stomach feels off. A feeling that had been growing since he left you, it was something in the way you had said his name in the cold light of day, almost as if you were saying goodbye. His steps get more rushed as he approaches the palace, swinging the doors to his chambers open. He looks to the handmaid who shakes her head in confusion. He swallows his rage, you wouldn’t have disobeyed him so blatantly, you wouldn't have left him without warning, without a goodbye. He walks quickly towards the garden until he finds Doran, his hand caressing a rose.

‘Where is she?” he demands, already knowing the answer

[annabethisterrified]

Book Review: THE TOWER OF NERO (The Trials of Apollo #5)

***No spoilers until you go under the cut!***

After months in the human form of Lester Papadopoulos, the former god Apollo is nearing the end of his trials alongside the young Meg McCaffrey. All their adventures and misfortunes have landed them back in the place it started-- New York. Meg and Apollo must defeat the final, most powerful emperor of the Triumvirate, who also happens to be Meg’s manipulative stepfather. Meanwhile, Nico, Will, and Rachel have important roles to play as the final battle looms. Even if they can defeat Nero, a more terrible enemy awaits in the form of Python, Apollo’s nemesis. Still, if they can succeed, Apollo will finally be restored to godhood. But after everything he’s been through, going back to the way things were doesn’t sound so great anymore. Apollo and his friends will have to find a new way to make all the sacrifices and pain they’ve experienced and witnessed worth it. That is, if they can survive their final trial.

As both the culmination of The Trials of Apollo series and the Camp Half-Blood Chronicles, The Tower of Nero excels at bringing the complicated, moving themes of the saga into final, meaningful reckonings. Nero proves to be a chilling and impressive enemy who forces Apollo and Meg to put everything they’ve learned through their journey together to the ultimate test. New and old characters combine to see the story to its end, and long-time readers are rewarded with actualized development and a bittersweet farewell. The Tower of Nero is a fitting and robust conclusion that shines with all the heart, humor, and growth that makes this saga a worthy frontrunner in children’s literature.

SPOILER SECTIONS BELOW

Welcome!!!!!!!!! Y’all. Y’ALL. I am REELING. If you’ve been around here a while, you probably know I’ve been online here since 2012 (?????!!!!!) where I subjected by followers to weird takes and frantic excitement about the upcoming installments of Heroes of Olympus, then Trials of Apollo. Since I was ten years old, this story has been such a huge part of my life. Now I’m 22 (?????!!!!). So. How am I feeling? I’m feeling like I need to flip over every piece of furniture in my house. In a good way. Look. I gotta break this down into three parts because I’m the worst!

I. TRIALS & TRIBULATION

The Trials of Apollo, to me, felt like the inevitable conclusion to Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Heroes of Olympus. We went through two series where we intimately followed the lives of young demigods growing up through two brutal wars, dangerous quests, and personal reckonings. Gods certainly made appearances, and some were more helpful than others, but the message was always clear-- the demigods were on their own. Two wars fought, two wars won, and at what cost? For what change?

Bringing a god down to earth (both literally and metaphorically) is really the only way a story like this could be rounded out. Especially when the god in question is Apollo. He’s the son of Zeus, who punishes him by turning him mortal. This family set-up already has enormous implications in reference to the previous chain of mythological events: Zeus killed his father Kronos, Kronos killed his father Ouranos, etc. 

Prophecy is also the scaffolding of this entire saga. Everything is dictated by it-- every quest relies on it, most of the demigods we meet are led by it, and the whole Greek/Roman world seems to build their lives around it. My point is, Apollo was a great character to use as the mouthpiece of this last series. He’s been present throughout the previous two series, and he’s relatively unaffected by the Greek/Roman divide. The enemy, the Triumvirate, is also an exciting antagonist-- they’ve fueled and funded the previous two wars, and their obsession with becoming “gods” is loaded with implications as Apollo races to return to his own status as a god.

Apollo himself is also a completely terrible being. From the first pages through his perspective, there’s certainly little sympathy or commiseration with our narrator. Apollo is many things: spoiled, petulant, selfish, and arrogant. He is not good, and now, he is no longer a god. Still, his voice and struggle remained compelling and engaging throughout the series. 

His bond with Meg McCaffrey is, without a doubt, the emotional heart of the whole series. I think they both see aspects of themselves in each other, and it was a genius move to make her the stepdaughter of the enemy. Nero literally sent Meg to be Apollo’s controller and thought that she would easily bring him down; the fact that both these very troubled people cling to each other in the face of such manipulation and frightening circumstances-- and then repeatedly choose to fight their ways back to each other time and again-- is really what makes this series work so well.

With Meg and Apollo at the forefront, after The Hidden Oracle the series takes on something of a “tour” format. We discover new places and revisit old characters across the country, which was definitely exciting for long-time readers to see familiar faces undergo even more development. (This might just be me, but I don’t think ToA can really stand on its own without the worldbuilding/establishment of the first two series-- that’s not a knock on it, but so much of it picks up where the previous series left off, which might make it a disorienting read for someone new to the world.)

Of course, the obvious midpoint reversal of the series is the death of Jason Grace in The Burning Maze. A flip switches completely-- not just for Apollo, but for the whole cast. This is not an incident that just “happens” and is swept aside. In the final two installments, Jason is threaded throughout the story, showing how grief is never truly over. But his sacrifice saved everyone he loved, and had profound impacts on everyone he knew. As brutal as it was, I appreciated how Jason really changed everything through his choice. 

By the time Apollo and Meg return to New York in The Tower of Nero, they are better, stronger versions of themselves. The things they once wanted-- godhood restored, or a father’s approval-- are no longer appealing. Their development (both individually and as friends) is utterly believable and hard-won. We see characters from The Hidden Oracle return changed, too. Losing Jason has dredged up dark feelings within Nico, Rachel is warding off the influence of Python in her mind, and Will’s healer heart is put to the test in yet another final battle. (Listen, this kid played instrumental roles in The Last Olympian, The Blood of Olympus, AND The Tower of Nero. The fate of the world really is in his capable, glow-in-the-dark hands.)

Together, Apollo and team venture into Manhattan for a very intense, exciting, and profound final reckoning with Nero. (CHAPTER 20, ANYONE????) Both Apollo and Meg, once and for all, come into their own and reclaim their power and independence. The pay-off is immaculate, and it’s jarring to remember the Apollo we once knew-- the easygoing one from The Titan’s Curse, the snobbish one from The Blood of Olympus, and the self-pitying one from The Hidden Oracle. His development throughout ToA is seamless and incredibly moving, and we’re left with a protagonist that we can truly, unequivocally root for and love.

II. HAVE YOU LEARNED?

When Nero is defeated, the real enemy still lurks. Apollo’s age-old nemesis, Python, has long haunted him. Their final reckoning is one-on-one, and after everything Apollo’s learned and been through, he goes into his last battle not necessarily caring whether he lives or dies-- he just knows Python must be defeated, no matter the cost. Don’t get me STARTED on his last conversation with Meg!!!!?????? (”Just come back to me, dummy.” I LOVE THEM) 

So, yeah, I’m already crying at that point. Apollo (slowly regaining his godhood) goes into this completely by himself, assuming all risk and responsibility. He’s forced to sacrifice the Arrow of Dodona, and eventually chooses to sacrifice himself by flinging them both down to Tartarus. But we don’t stop there! Oh, no, we go all the way down to Chaos. The primordial soup of all the pantheons, all of existence. Python crumbles, and Apollo clings to the edge-- he clings to life.

This is it. This is the literal rock-bottom moment of the saga, and I’m completely unsure of how he’s getting out of this one. Who’s going to rescue him? What can he even do at this point? Genuinely, I had no idea where this was going-- and I never would have guessed that it would be the goddess Styx who shows up. She’s played an important, but also very minor, role in ToA. I was baffled at first-- I thought, what does she have to do with any of this? But then it ended up playing out in like the most breathtaking, moving way possible. It’s one of the most defining scenes of the entire 15 books to me. 

She only asks him: “Have you learned?”

This is the goddess of promises and oaths. Since The Lightning Thief, we’ve seen how oaths are tossed around like confetti. Percy’s very existence (not to mention Thalia and Jason’s) is because of a broken promise. An oath to keep with a final breath is one of the revisited elements throughout the Heroes of Olympus series. Apollo makes willy-nilly promises in The Hidden Oracle, which he later regrets. 

Then, at the end of everything, Styx only asks Apollo if he’s learned. All the talk of promises and oaths in this story doesn’t actually have anything to do with “keeping promises”-- certainly, so many promises are broken we can’t keep track. It all boils down to whether we learn from what we experience and use that to become better people moving forward. It’s about making sure we mean what we say and what we do. It’s about commitment and devotion to the people we love and the things we care about. Promises don’t matter. Only action does. 

I can’t understate how thoroughly pleased I was that this was the final reckoning of the saga. It was an unexpected and completely profound moment, and such an important scene to use as the emotional climax of the book.

III. WHERE WE GO FROM HERE

After 15 years and 15 books, The Tower of Nero had to find a way to bring the saga to a close without nailing the coffin shut. More standalone novels are surely on the horizon (I’m looking at you, Nico and Will), but as a whole, this saga did need to come to a satisfying end. 

Let’s pick up after Apollo is restored to godhood. He wakes up to his sister Artemis, and the very first thing he does? After finally returning to his true form, the thing he’s relentlessly yearned for the whole series? He just breaks down sobbing. He’s miserable. There’s no relief or joy in the realization that he’s once again an Olympian. 

I’m always a sucker for the trope of “Character does everything possible to reach Goal only to realize that Goal isn’t actually what they want or need at all”, so of course, I was moved to see Apollo learn that he doesn’t actually care much about whether he’s a god or a human anymore. (In fact, he later remarks that he envies Lu’s new ability to grow old and age alongside Meg and her foster siblings.)

I was doubly-moved that Apollo’s restoration to godhood was not an action on Zeus’s part. From what little context we get (a lot happens “off screen” and even Apollo isn’t sure), it appears that Apollo either reclaimed his own godhood through sheer force of will to return from Chaos and reunite with his friends, and/or Styx aided him. But it seems obvious Zeus wasn’t involved, which has HUGE implications for the power structure of the Olympians moving forward.

A lot of us, myself included, had certain expectations for how Apollo’s inevitable reunion with Zeus and the rest of the Olympians would go. I, for one, was excited to see Apollo either tell off his father, or possibly assume a position as the new Camp Half-Blood director or New Rome’s pontifex maximus. Instead, we got a somewhat quiet, but incredibly tense interaction between all the Olympians. The closest thing to an outburst is actually between Hera and Zeus, as she tells him off for not mourning his son Jason, as Apollo did. (Dare I say....I liked Hera for a moment?) (ALSO, I’m fully on-board with the theory that Zeus did not intervene in Jason’s death as a punishment for Jason publicly calling him “unwise” in The Blood of Olympus.)

The whole scene reads as a powder keg. Already, it’s established that Apollo, Artemis, and Dionysus (and possibly even Athena and Hera) have no illusions of Zeus’s grandeur. They do not view him as family, or even as a leader. He’s simply just the one with enough power to punish the rest of them when they get “out of line”. 

Apollo began naming Zeus as his abuser fairly early on in the series. Perhaps witnessing the way Meg thinks and speaks about her stepfather Nero made this clear for him. In either case, he begins to explicitly mirror the very same advice he gives Meg in dealing with her abuser: distance yourself from the abusive person/situation, and accept that tyrants do not change and it is not your responsibility to attempt to make them “see the light”. Thus, Apollo makes no appeal or argument to Zeus– he understands by then that it’d be fruitless. Instead, he’s concentrating his energy on doing everything he can do with what he has; he’s committed to being a protector and friend of demigods, and he sees that other gods are beginning to (if not already) see Zeus’s wrongness. (More on this here.)

Was it what I expected going into the book? Nope. But I have to admit that it was really exciting to see Zeus try to hide the very real fear of realizing that his son Apollo is no longer afraid of him, and is quite possibly more powerful than him, too. Apollo switches gears entirely away from Zeus, and focuses his energy back on the friends he’s made and the children he has. It’s a refreshing reminder that it’s often more productive to concentrate on helping others instead of harming those who harm us. 

That being said, I would have liked a few paragraphs or pages discussing what practical differences there will be for the lives of young demigods in the wake of this change. I understand that might not have worked given the very condensed timeline post-returning-to-godhood (the story ends literally the same day or day after), but I do hope and believe that Apollo’s transformation is going to change the way demigods perceive gods-- and what they will expect of gods in the future. Just look at how Apollo is received by the campers at CHB. They’re ecstatic to see him. They think of him as a hero. Apollo is coming back just to help and spend time with his kids, his friends, and the campers, and he’s going to keep coming back. The other gods are certainly going to feel some pressure to follow suit. 

Speaking of Apollo’s reunions...shall we?

I loved that we got to see all the main-players one last time. Mimicking the “tour format” of the series, we get to watch Apollo catch up with his loved ones, who helped him learn how to be a better person throughout his trials.

It was sad, but reassuring, to watch Nico come to terms with Jason’s death. I like how he outlined the differences between Hazel’s and Jason’s deaths, and why he isn’t interfering out of respect for Jason. Watching Jason appear to Apollo (ambiguously as a ghost or as a figment of Apollo’s dream-imagination) was another moving reminder of the stark differences in the ways that different demigods prioritize and think about what it is to be a hero. Jason’s idea and Percy’s idea, for instance, are super different because of the way they were raised. Percy would put anything on the line for his family and friends; so would Jason, of course, but he also has a much broader view of what’s worth sacrificing your life for...which is admirable in ways, but also painfully sad, since a lot has to change in order for Jason’s death to carry weight. Over the course of the last two books, I think it’s very safe to say Jason’s death did change just about everything for the people who knew and loved him, and even those who didn’t. 

Whew. Okay, back to Camp Half-Blood. Nico and Will are clearly now very comfortable with each other, and it’s refreshing to see how they both watch out for each other and bring out the best in one another. I’m excited for their inevitable solo book, but regardless, it’s good to see Nico getting the help he needs (from his own experiences, from Dionysus, Will, etc), and for Rachel to get some distance from her terrible parents by living out her art student dreams in Paris. 

Then, we drop by the Waystation. I simply cannot get over the fact that Calypso is at BAND CAMP. Anyway, it’s unsurprising to find out that she and Leo are still “complicated”, but I’m glad she’s experiencing the highs and lows of mortal life, and that Leo is working on helping out vulnerable youth (and has two mom figures in his life!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!). Glad we get to see Thalia and Reyna both happy and healthy, too.

Next up, Camp Jupiter and New Rome. LOVE that Hazel and Frank have both reclaimed the curses that haunted them since The Son of Neptune. They really both did just...like...basically die to bring down the Big Bad and then come back better than ever. (Side note: I still obviously have issues with the fact that Hazel is SO YOUNG! There was no reason for her not to be 15/16 like the rest of the Argo 2 crew! Ugh.)

Anyway, then we say goodbye to Percy and Annabeth. Except for the annoying continuity error in terms of the timeline of them learning about Jason, I really really really loved this parting moment with them. I know some readers wanted Percy and Annabeth to stay in New York, but it always felt very natural and meaningful for me that they’d want to relocate to New Rome. That was always the Big Dream for most of Heroes of Olympus, and it makes sense to me that they’d choose to live somewhere designed for demigods to actually live and grow old and raise families. Besides, I’m quite certain they’ll frequently be visiting New York. I digress. 

It was super bittersweet to see these two finally off on their own (and basically living together, as Apollo teasingly implies) going to college! Definitely a huge sigh of relief and satisfaction after following all their exploits since they were twelve. I’m so glad we get to see them (all things considered) happy and excited for their new life together. They certainly stepped back in this series, as they deserved. But they still lose Jason, and that’s something that weighs heavily on them and likely always will. Apollo calls Jason “the best of us”, and I don’t think that use of “us” is lost on Percy, Annabeth, or anyone-- Apollo’s identity and alignment is with them now, which will hopefully lead to positive change.

Then, simultaneously the saddest and happiest (?) reunion-- with Piper. This was obviously really heavy, since the last time Apollo sees her is in the wake of Jason’s death. For me, I’m very proud and excited by the fact that Piper is the only character who basically forges a whole new life (outside of the sphere of the Olympians) for herself. She’s far from other demigods and gods, and is committed to reconnecting with her mortal family and making a beautiful life. She has a new friend, too, which is absolutely awesome. (I mean, we all KNEW, right? But it’s really great to see this confirmed on-page.) When Piper told Apollo that he did right by Jason, I definitely lost it. And I also just really loved the final beat with her-- Apollo’s stammering a goodbye, but Piper’s already turned around to walk back to her new friend and her new life.

The final farewell, of course, went to Meg McCaffrey. She’s reclaimed Aeithales, and is now foster-sibling-extraordinaire by rescuing Nero’s other adopted demigods and giving them a new chance. Meg’s really matured and grown into such a kind and strong leader, but it was super bittersweet to see how much she still values Apollo. Their reunion just about broke me. They share a bond that no one else will ever understand, and they brought each other out of darkness that nearly ended them both. I literally can’t think of a better final dialogue than what they share:

You’ll come back?

Always. The sun always comes back. 

I’m fine!!! 

Anyway, this brings me to the closing lines of the story. Just as Percy opens The Lightning Thief by directly addressing the reader, Apollo closes The Tower of Nero by bidding farewell to us. 

Call on me. I will be there for you. 

On so many levels, this line works really well as the ending. For me, and I imagine for you too if you’re reading this, these 15 books are a pillar of our childhoods. We grew up alongside these characters, and found enormous excitement and identity and magic in these pages. The story may have come to a close, but it lives on within us-- it’s something we can return to time and again for enjoyment and understanding.

More than anything, this story pulled off something I didn’t really know was possible: it makes me feel genuinely and enthusiastically glad to be human, no matter how strange or hard it gets.

____________

My fifth-grade teacher assigned The Lightning Thief as mandatory reading when I was ten years old. I picked it up reluctantly, but from the first lines, I just completely fell into this story. Twelve years since that assignment, I’m now a traditionally-published author myself...writing about what else but mythology, of course. These books saw me from elementary school all the way to post-college life. It’s hard to imagine where I’d be without them-- certainly, I’d never have achieved my lifelong dream of becoming an author, nor would I have found such an incredible online community like the one I’ve found here. I consider myself extremely lucky to have grown up alongside these characters and their incredible story. 

I know we’ve likely got more standalones in this world to come, but this is still the end of the saga. I’m sad to see it come to a close, but I’m so ecstatic with the send-off we got, and I’m excited to let the story settle and become a part of me-- something that will always affect how I see the world, something that reminds me of why I write, and something that’s always there to welcome me home.