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waitmyturtles · 8 months

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Last Twilight, episode 12: final reflections

Wow. It took me all of this past weekend to process this finale, notwithstanding the usual life craziness that has dogged me lately.

Let me preface this whole thing by saying that I'm confused by what I watched. I'd say that, overall -- I actually quite liked this series, and I especially, absolutely ADORED JimmySea, Namtan, and Mark, and their acting. JimmySea kicked major ass, and I really hope they get another big and complicated show to chew on.

I also want to say that between episodes 11 and 12, I felt that I saw uncharacteristic editing clunkiness from Aof Noppharnach and his team that left a lot of necessary emotional and ethical processing on the cutting room floor. I think that's what's ultimately making me feel uneasy about the process of watching this, but -- funnily enough, I'm not nearly as "angry" about the ending as I was with other bad shows that fell apart in their last quarter recently. It was obvious that MhokDay were going to get together.

But I needed to walk a few more steps with them on their journey to that end.

Before I got my eyes on the finale, a few reactions on social media, from Tumblr to Twitter gave me the case of the jibbles. Namely: that the story of Last Twilight would have worked better if Day had stayed blind through the end.

I wasn't really understanding how that construction could work without walking through some sort of ethical minefield.

Now that I've seen the finale -- especially that infamous 4/4 segment -- I understand better what those arguments were saying.

Yet, I'm still dogged by a kind of ethical confusion here. And maybe that was one of the points of this finale, another one of Aof Noppharnach's perhaps now-famous-or-infamous emotionally inconclusive endings.

To me, there are two ethical potholes that this show stumbled on:

1) The ethics WITHIN the fictional piece itself for a character to not depict the process of considering the various fates he might face vis à vis a potentially reversible impairment, and

2) The ethics of a REAL audience ultimately wanting a different outcome for a fictional character to NOT have an impairment reversed.

TL;DR — I don’t think Last Twilight spent enough time having Day consider the permanence or impermanence of the various fates he faced, including permanent blindness. I don’t think the characters, and as such, the audience, spent enough time understanding that a corneal transplant was always going to be Day’s endgame.

Last Twilight was marketed as a show focused on disability, on a man going blind in a society that prioritizes the able-bodied, and how he would adjust to his disability, and of course (this being GMMTV), his falling in love. As fans, we were prepared to receive a whole show about a character with a disability, not as a side pairing, à la Heart and Li Ming in Moonlight Chicken.

It so happened that Day's visual impairment was corneal deterioration -- a condition that could lead to permanent blindness, and thus qualify him for a corneal transplant.

What I'm struggling with is the crux of the ethical dilemma that this show was ALWAYS going to have to deal with: that a corneal impairment of the kind that Day experienced, in the prime of his life, could very well be reversed with surgery, a surgery that has tremendous success rates.

As such -- as we got that clarification in drips throughout the series -- this show was actually not ONLY going to be about the newfound adjustment of a recently-impaired man to an ableist society. It was ALWAYS going to have this door of ANOTHER major change, the reversal of the impairment, just slightly cracked open. I'm not sure that I, as a viewer, was fully prepared for this, even as Night and Mae Mhon spoke about "eye donations" as givens in the middle of the series. I believe the show needed to be much louder, earlier, about the "hope" that Day could "go back" to "living a normal life," instead of framing the high majority of the show around his adjustments to his impairment.

As we went through Day's adjustment to life outside of his room, I believe we needed to hear, FROM DAY HIMSELF, that a corneal transplant was a conclusion that HE believed in, that HE wanted. A failure of this series was that we unfortunately only heard that from his family members, leaving us to only ASSUME that the conclusion of the reversal of his impairment was ALSO Day's intention.

For a story that was very much about an individual's developing agency and self-advocacy: I believe I needed to hear from Day himself that he was good and ready for the final surgery. I only assume that was the case, as I saw his own body and mind in the hospital. But I believe, for dramatic success, that I could have used a basic, "I'm ready," from him, to make segment 4/4 more complete and contextual, against the story of adjustment and resilience we had so far seen before then.

And what a story of adjustment and resilience we had gotten, as Day had established a full career for himself, without Mhok next to him, during one of the time jumps of episode 12.

For my sake, as I process what I watched this weekend, I want to come to grips with what I thought were the major themes of this show, and see if I can come to some sort of sensible conclusion about what happened here.

This show was focused on:

1) the romance between Day and Mhok, 2) Mhok's caretaking and companionship being the lever to help Day out of his room and back into the world from which he had retreated after the onset of his visual impairment, 3) Day slowly learning how to function again in a society that prioritizes the able-bodied vis à vis his visual impairment, 4) Day learning how to self-advocate for himself in the face of those who condescend to him and/or keep him trapped in compassion bias postures,

and more that I'm sure I'm missing, but those are the themes that resonated the most with me.

I think the general feeling on Tumblr is that, save for the romance, that themes 3 and 4 were contradicted out of existence in the face of the sudden flip to the surgery of segment 4/4.

I think not hearing from Day himself that he was ready and willing for the surgery was a lost moment. I don't believe Day was ever acting as if he would choose anything else OTHER than surgery throughout the series. BUT, AT THE SAME TIME: what we had watched prior to 4/4 was his story of adjustment.

My biggest ethical concern here, vis à vis the audience reactions that I've read, is that NO ONE -- in fiction or in real life -- owes me a story of heroism. If there is an individual who has been impaired since birth, or is dealing with a degenerative condition later in their life, and has the opportunity to address or reverse the condition, who am I to say that that individual SHOULD NOT address their condition?

For me, this is huge. I believe this is a huge ethical dilemma that Last Twilight ultimately does not face. I wish this series had been much more centered, earlier on, about the utter REALITY that Day could have his condition reversed by surgery, in words he'd say himself, rather than assumptions made for him, on behalf of his family, who.... I presume were established to be some sort of legal conservators for him, as Mhon continued to be the one to receive eye donation text messages.

(I concede that I don't know if this is a more common set-up for disabled individuals in Thailand, as I would assume in the States, that Day himself would have been the one to receive that message directly.)

For this show to have seemed emotionally and artistically complete: I needed to hear from Day himself that surgery was an endgame that he was banking his hopes on. I also needed to understand, much more statistically clearly vis à vis the show, of the absolute risks that Day faced towards having permanent blindness for the rest of his life. Because the show ALSO needed to focus on the establishment of the romance between Mhok and Day, we missed out on the show taking time to explain to us, the viewers, of the absolute risks that Day faced in any of these scenarios -- and thus, we would have had MUCH more context into the nuances of the resilience that Day needed to establish for himself as he re-adjusted to society, with his numerous fates lying before him.

I'm going to borrow the words of @hallowpen in their final review here, to say that this show at the end needed much more "breathing room." I think @hallowpen is so right in saying it like this, because these two factors that I just laid out, geez -- the first 7/8ths of the series being about Day's social adjustment against the utter suddenness of the successful surgery and his sudden jump back to what's been translated as his "normal life" -- just clash so tonally. (I do wonder if we're getting as nuanced a translation on "normal" as we could be.)

I think this is about the most confused final review of a show that I've written. There is an ethical heaviness to all of this that's weighing on me, that I think I still need time to comb through.

I also feel that I simply do not know enough, by way of my lack of cultural competency into how Thai society approaches issues of public and private health, if Day’s unseen choice to get the surgery would have been a given among majority Thai audiences, AND that majority Thai audiences would not have asked for the kind of internal debates that I think the show could have used.

I feel thrilled that Day can see Poomjai/Mee, after making that wish in episode 11.

But I think, if this show was about a journey for someone to learn how to successfully advocate for his own agency -- that, at the very end, I needed to see that agency exercised, by him, to get to the part of the reversal of the impairment that I assumed he wanted.

Again: Day doesn't owe me his story of heroism. If fiction doesn't want to give me that, from a character with a recent impairment, I don't have the right to ask for it.

But the missing bits of artistry to get me, the viewer, to only an assumption, has led me to surprising ethical places, that will leave me wondering about what happened in this series for a long time.

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ohsohoney · 2 months

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When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Three

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Ah this took ages to write but I actually really loved it- finally they meet!! Hopefully I got a few things about Detroit right too but I don't live there so lemme know if not! Also I appreciate all the love the last two parts have gotten, means a lot!

Warnings: Some heavier topics surrounding a rough childhood and abuse of substances.

Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2 || Em’s daughters are renamed here because it felt weird not to and also have different ages– doesn’t affect the story much but just a warning! Rosie's nickname is also Z:)

Masterlist

It was far too early to be up. Especially after the night I’d just had, tossing and turning until I’d eventually passed out from sheer exhaustion. Something I hadn’t quite anticipated after my call with Em, but sleep had seemed near enough impossible once I’d hung up. No real reason as to why, simply that my mind had gone from a dull sluggish buzz to over-fucking-load in a mere matter of seconds.

Thankfully I had a flight to catch which meant that, even though I looked like my mum after another week long bender, I would be able to catch a little sleep before landing in Detroit.

Detroit. That was the singular thought my tired mind kept pausing on. Stupidly, it felt just like yesterday that Marshall had first bridged that gap between us and phoned me, only it had been weeks since then, during which the most unexpected friendship had blossomed. He’d called again that next day and the timezones separating us had been made all that more obvious, him having not long dropped his daughter off at school whilst I’d been returning from lunch. He never really had given me the real reason as to why he’d gone and gotten in touch again so quickly, only that he’d wanted to double check that I was still down to fly out and work on a song or two.

It hadn’t phased me. Neither had the next few calls that had followed, nor the texts that I’d found myself composing to him at odd hours of the day.

We’d spoken about music at first: “Who inspires you?” He’d asked me which had led into a ramble. Something I only ever tended to do with those who knew me best, never having really mastered the whole art of social interaction yet, even after the fame. But he’d let me go on, before I’d eventually spun the question back around on him and listened quietly to a passionate speech about the handful of artists that had transported him out of the tiny room he’d grown up in and into something other.

I mentioned my sister after that. Em had heard her shouting at the tele one evening whilst she’d played some game that always seemed to bring out her most profane language and laughed, asking after the roaring gremlin in the background. I’d told him bits and pieces, added to the story in odd quips and mentions over the passing weeks, enough that most wouldn’t quite catch on to what I’d been avoiding, but Lottie had been around more often than not and the man had quickly worked out that she lived with me. He’d never outright asked me the reason as to why, though I liked to think that he was simply waiting for me to tell him, because this thing that we had, it was all about building trust. And Marshall? He was almost as unforgiving with who he gave that out to as I was.

Soon enough our calls and Facetimes had become a featured part of my day, one I actually looked forward to. But even saying that, I was still shit scared of meeting him properly.

As much as it might humour him for me to admit it, I was a big fan of his. Had been since I’d first heard Guilty Conscience when it had hit the UK charts. I’d been swallowed whole by the rest of his LP, had even nicked a cd copy of it off a stall down at the market, alongside Aquemini, because I’d liked it so much. In truth, one of my earliest memories even featured the man. It was of my uncle bagging tickets to Em’s first real show down in Notting Hill, his girlfriend at the time’s brother having managed to somehow score a couple on a whim. It had been all they’d talked about for weeks on end.

I’d been around long enough now though– having dived headfirst into the industry before dipping a toe in first– that I knew just how meeting your icons wasn’t all it was chalked up to be. Still, this felt different to us just bumping into one another at some show or a party. And, who was I kidding– it was entirely different. Impossibly so. I’d said it to him then and I’d reiterate it again, he had been the last person I had ever expected to call.

“Passengers boarding the 09:53 flight to Detroit, Michigan please head to Gate B7.”

I sucked in a deep breath at the overhead announcement, figuring that it really was now or never. Two weeks in a big old house working on music with Eminem, I supposed stranger things had to have happened. So instead of lingering on the inane concept, I popped an anti-sickness tablet and dragged my carry-on over towards the gate.

…

Truth be told, I much would have preferred not having slept on that flight. God, I was still embarrassed, but even so I couldn’t help the muted giggle that bypassed my lips whilst I waited for my luggage to drift on by.

I was just thankful that I’d had the foresight to wear a hat and sunnies the entire time. Mostly out of habit, yes, but also so that I could keep this whole Detroit trip hush hush, because Marshall really had gone above and beyond to bring me out here and so I didn’t want to reward him with a swarm of unwanted questions. Not that anyone would even add up the notion of me being here and allude that it was down to him. That was probably the most unlikely headline somebody could conjure up.

But back to the whole Flight from Hell. Well, I had the tendency to sometimes be dramatic so not Hell per se, it had just been humiliating. Being shaken awake only to realise you'd been drooling the entire time and the rest of the passengers had already disembarked was more than a tad bit mortifying, especially when the air steward’s eyes had widened a fraction when I’d tried to sort myself out and wake up.

I wasn’t entirely sure if he’d recognised me, or if it had just been down to the fact that Marshall had put me in First Class— a matter which I had complained about, justifiably— and that I had one of those faces he couldn’t put a name to. But either way, I hoped he wouldn’t expand too much on it.

I caught sight of my suitcase just as it pushed its way through the heavy black flaps on the end of the conveyor belt and so I slid past a man in a bright green Packers jersey to grab at it. And even I had to wince at the sight of the offending article. In all places, really? I wanted to ask. Wrong fucking move there, mate.

By the time I finally did make it out of the crowd that had amassed, it had been near enough an hour since I’d landed and so I had a few messages waiting patiently for me.

Messages The Martian Blacked out GMC parked out front Tap twice on the back window

Then…

Flight ok?

My mouth quirked upwards on its own accord at the quick relay but I was quick to shoot something back.

Messages Might have passed tf out Woke up and it was just me and the steward there:))) Also tap twice?? Do I look like James Bond to you?

Although I had to Google what the fuck a GMC looked like, I did eventually work my way out of the terminal to spot the sleek SUV sat a way down in the drop off zone. ‘Course he’d have his driver park there, I thought pointlessly to myself as I manoeuvred past a handful of tired faces with a polite smile. Though to him it was probably easier to deal with whatever fine he got plastered with than it would be for me to attempt to find the thing in pickup parking. Not that it would be all that hard, it was huge.

Anyway, by the time I managed to hone in closer on the vehicle I felt my nose scrunch up in slight embarrassment at the thought of having to knock twice, as though I really was some sort of spy or, more than likely, a dodgy dealer. But just as I approached, prepped to knock and give the driver my name, I heard the far side door open and a pair of shoes hit the rough tarmac.

Jumping back a tad, my head swivelled left to better view the figure who was then rounding the car. My eyes widened at the sight I was met with.

His smirk at my evident shock was ascued by a heavy hood and the brim of a dark cap, but it was there. Stayed there actually, all whilst he easily manoeuvred my luggage from out of my hands and into the boot of his car, whilst I simply stood there stock-still. Eventually, he came to stand before me about an arms length away. I blinked and my gaze skittered over the rest of our surroundings before they finally returned to his tilted head and piercing eyes. His back was turned towards the airport, away from the trio which had since grouped around their suitcases to wait and a handful of people that exited the terminal one or two at a time.

“What, I don’t get no hug?”

The mirthful lilt of his deep voice surprised me and my mouth worked over a plethora of words that couldn’t quite take stage before I was laughing softly into the shoulder of his jacket, his arms coming up to wrap around me.

It felt oddly surreal to finally meet him, even if I had been so caught off guard by his sudden presence.

In fact, I jolted back at the very thought and thumped his arm, my eyes narrowed even whilst my smile never appeared to falter. “Why are you here?”

His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, arm moving to cradle the offended limb in sly mocking, before he huffed out a low laugh. “No, hello? No, wow, Marshall, I can’t believe you’re really here!”

My mouth gaped at the teasing tone he took on, much like something I’d heard on one of his songs, and then I was laughing too, shaking my head at his antics. “That’s how we’re playing this?” I quirked a brow, but eventually mimicked, “Wow, Marshall. Gee golly, I just can’t believe that you’re really here!”

Marshall dipped his chin in supposed approval, gentle eyes roaming over my face in a way similar to what I must have done when he’d first arrived. I wondered briefly what he saw but hastily brushed the thought aside. “The American accent still sucks, by the way.” He acknowledged just as he stepped forward to open the passenger side door, surprising me yet again as he slipped by me, “So if you’re goin’ into acting, take note.”

My glare was mocking at best, lacking any real heat as he waited for me to climb inside, it was only once I’d glanced back at him with a thankful smile that he moved to shut the door. I took in a sharp lungful of air at the quiet that then engulfed the car and watched him move around the front of the hood. He was achingly familiar and yet not at the same time. And it was such a strange thought to latch onto that I took the initiative to just take things as they came over the next few weeks, which turned out to work in my favour when he joined me in the car and the engine revved.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here.” I found myself saying as he slowly peeled his way out of the drop off bay. “Thought you said you’d have someone come get me.”

Em simply shook his head whilst I observed how his hands slid around the wheel with an effortless ease. “I said there’d be a car.”

My eyes widened to accentuate my point. “Exactly! There’d be a car! So I just figured a cab or something.”

His eyes flickered over towards me just as we came to a stop at the busy intersection outside the airport, then pulled away to look left and right again. “Well, you should stop figuring then.”

I couldn’t stop the eye roll I gifted him, even as I laughed heartily to myself and took in the comfort of privacy the car offered, as opposed to the flight I’d just been stuck on. It was then, whilst we merged onto the highway and followed into the flow of traffic, that I got the chance to really look at him.

I was still attempting to get over my evident shock, having expected to meet him much later on, once I’d been dropped off at the house or maybe even a while after that. But it was nice to know that he’d driven all the way here to merely pick me up when he could have just as easily sent someone to do it for him.

Marshall looked about the same as he had when we’d first phoned in truth, only it was easier now to see all of the minute details he offered the world, those tiny imperfections.

The slight dip in his chin was much more prominent now what with the way his lips had since pursed in concentration. The skin there was smooth, as though not much time had passed since it had last been seen to by a razor, and it wrinkled only around his eyes when they narrowed into focus. His nose was pointed, whilst simultaneously being both strong and soft. He had eyelashes that I could only envy, dark and long, and freckles light enough to dot both sides of his face.

He must have felt my gaze on him though because he soon chanced a glance back at me with a single raised brow. My eyes slid away from his profile and instead I opted to gesture my chin out towards the tinted windows that encased us. “These legal?” I had wondered, but mostly asked just to steer his mind away from me having been caught staring.

With a short snort, his brow dropped and the beginnings of a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “What d’you think?”

I chuckled in retort, having expected that, and then looked away again, out towards the grassy verge that separated the long stretch of road from small grey buildings that littered both sides in the distance. It was my first time in Detroit and I wanted to make the most of it, remember every part.

It was quiet for a while after that, Em having switched on the radio at some point after asking after my flight, the two of us more than content to just let the silence linger around the hum of something so familiar, music.

He pointed things out to me here and there on the journey, nothing of real importance but dropping comments that would either make me hum or laugh loudly. He was a funny fucker even when he didn’t seem to be trying, I figured that was what I liked best about him.

We drove through Downtown Detroit at one point and I listened intently when he spoke about Ford Field, the home of his favoured Lions, and again when we stopped at a traffic light and he gestured over towards where the Fox Theatre sat. Even during the daylight it drew the eye.

Once we’d rolled away from the inner city and its skyscrapers though I felt myself relax further, pleased by the vast amount of green that I started to see. Most of the time I’d spent in The States often left me confined to the major cities, to their bustling crowds and hectic commutes, mostly because I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter, what with venues and tours, interviews and recording sessions. So this would probably be the first time I’d get to see a slice of the country’s suburbs and it wasn’t all too different from what you’d typically see back home. Not exact sure, but similar in a lot of circumstances.

It took me a while to realise that Em had been nodding his head along to the radio, following the beat in an exact tempo. The sight had me hiding my grin behind my sleeve but the move captured his attention and he must have seen the growing joy my glazed eyes gave away to when he peered over at me because his forehead furrowed. “What?”

Instantly I shook my head, “Nothing.”

His eyes darted out towards the road, shifting gears before the back of his hand shot out to tap the side of my knee. “What?” He prodded again and I was startled by the easy nature of his touch, remembering then that it was possible now that we weren’t stuck between screens.

I snorted softly, dropping my arm seeing as he’d already caught on to the grin. “Just strange, is all. Being here.”

I watched closely as he gave a slow blink and waited, propping my arm up against the window whilst slumping a little in my seat.

“Good weird, or bad?”

The answer had to have been obvious and yet, I still answered him, “The good kind.”

“Good.” He hummed and my grin softened at his own small smile. It remained there for most of the drive.

I didn’t know what I had expected to see once we finally did pull up to the house, but it didn’t fail to live up to its owner's accomplishments. It was beautiful, big yes, but beautiful too. Terracotta in colour and with a long gravel driveway. He had trees and flowers around the fenced gate to further keep out any prying eyes, but they were vivid and lush. Pretty to admire.

Marshall turned towards me once we’d slowed to a stop and I smiled, unbuckling my seatbelt before he huffed a chuckle, turning off the engine and moving to do the same. The door shut behind me once I’d jumped out and I let myself breathe in the change of air. Having been cooped up in the Big Apple for the last few days it was refreshing to be able to actually enjoy it and not just think about all of the heavy city fumes.

I was quick to snap out of it though when I heard the slight beep that sounded from the back of the car when the boot reopened. “Hey, I can get that.”

Marshall's eyes cut over towards my approaching figure. “So can I.” He tugged the heavy suitcase out with one hand, “See?”

“Mature, Mathers.” I retorted, leaning past him to at least grab my carry on, but he was there too, our hands clutched the handle at the same time, his encasing mine. “I can get it.” I repeated, turning slightly in my stance to lift my brows up at him.

He was close, thigh pressing into the ledge of the boot whilst his other hand still held onto the door stationed above our heads. “You’re my guest.”

His tone was gruff, low enough for only me to have heard, even though there wasn’t anyone else mulling about. My eyes shifted, flickering back and forth between his own. “Then let your guest get their way.”

He blew out an amused breath, the weight of it fanned my face and had a few loose strands of hair fluttering. “You’re so fuckin’ stubborn.”

I shifted and his knee knocked against mine. “Here’s the pot calling the kettle black.” I quipped with a growing smile.

There was the slightest shake of his head, his mouth twitched, and then he was leaning in closer. I held my breath. Waiting. For God knows what, when—

He snatched the bag out from under my hand.

“Marshall!” It was almost indignant the yell I made, shocked by the sly move he’d played and the fact that he’d already jumped back to make his way towards the front door before I could even properly react. I heard his bright laughter echo back to mock me.

“Too slow.” Marshall called in turn, shrugging as he shot a smug look over his shoulder. “Lock her up for me?”

The tap he then gave his right trouser pocket evidently had me frowning and so I looked down on impulse, only to spot a set of keys dangling from the belt loop on my jeans. Baffled, my head snapped upwards, just in time to see him laugh and wheel my suitcase inside.

I took a deep breath, then let it go.

“Such a prick.” I muttered to myself, though not unkindly, as I jumped up to grab the boot door and slam it shut, using the fob to then lock the monster truck up.

By the time I made it up the rest of the drive and through the front door I was a little less peeved about the whole thing, which was mostly down to me having been a little humoured by his methods of undermining.

“You treat all your supposed guests like this?” I blew out.

Marshall only greeted my entry with a snort. “Uhuh, that initiation we talked about? Starts here.”

Rolling my eyes, I stepped further into the entryway to observe, making the effort not to gape at the sheer size of it. Because in truth, he could’ve easily fit a half a dozen Harleys in the space between the door and the stairs.

“Where do we start the sacrifice then? Can’t imagine anyone would be all too happy about staining these pretty floors.” My toe skimmed a stark white tile as I said it, peering over at him through my lashes whilst I thought back to an earlier conversation we’d had and the fact that he’d actually remembered.

“Basement, baby!”

He used the term in ridicule, to accentuate the gaiety in the back and forth we’d just begun. His hands shot out wide in a gesticulative fashion and so I used the moment to grab at the handle of my suitcase he’d left by the door, thankful that the thing had wheels. I grinned at the small victory.

“You were saying?” I dragged out around a pleased smile.

Marshall shook his head at me, like he actually couldn’t believe I’d attempted to one up him— and managed it. Though he thankfully left it alone. Still, that was probably only due to the fact that he then said, “Want a tour?”

And who was I to deny?

“If you don’t want me getting lost, then yes please.”

He scoffed, but wore the ghost of a smile as he pushed further into the house, leading me this way and that until we finally wandered up another set of stairs onto the second floor.

“Bedrooms are there.” Marshall pointed out to me, hands stretched towards both the halls that lined either side of the staircase. “Mine’s just down here, Z’s too.” He explained further, gesturing towards the two doors on the far right side, Rosie’s bore a bright sign with her name and I was humoured to see that the usual silver handle had been switched out in favour of a neon pink.

He caught my slight smile at the sight of the door and nudged me with his shoulder.

“Quit it.”

I snorted softly, pursing my lips to dampen the grin I wore. “I didn’t say anything! But I do love it.” Honestly it was too cute seeing him all mushy like that, and the fact that he’d gone out of his way to make something like a door handle special for his daughter was endearing.

Marshall grunted out a hum, then took a deliberate step over toward a room a little closer, the door had been left slightly ajar. He pushed it open to reveal a room that could have resembled a hotel room had it not been for the much warmer sense of comfort it offered. I reckoned it was down to the little souvenirs and decorative pieces that had been jotted around the place, like the snowglobe of Big Ben and a little British flag, as well as the articles of clothing which had been laid out on the bed.

My attention caught on those first and I glanced back at Em, who was now leaning against the doorframe, to ask a silent question. The man shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t pressed to the wood and suddenly looked a tad bit sheepish, “Rosie’s idea. Wanted to give you something, like, so you’d feel welcome or some shit.”

I let my fingers brush over the pyjama’s the little girl must have picked out. They were soft and dotted with tiny woodland creatures, bunnies and berries. My heart ached at the lovely gesture, never really having had anyone do something like this for me, let alone someone so small and sweet who had gone out of their way to make me feel welcomed of all things.

“You lucked out with her.” I murmured and was granted a doting smile when I peered back up at the girl’s father.

“She’s aight.” Marshall reasoned, pushing out a small breath as he took a step further into the bedroom. “Room okay then?”

Smiling, almost a little stupidly, I chuckled in disbelief and took another peer around the room. “It’s perfect, thank you again for this.”

He rolled his eyes at me and made a gah sound, “Say thanks again and I’ll take you to the nearest motel.”

My eyes widened just as my jaw dropped, “A motel, really? Wow, and here I thought we were truly bonding.”

“You know what they say, don’t assume.”

Narrowing my stare into something a bit more intense I waited for him to crack, but he must have been half-alien or something because the man held his own much longer than I did. “You’re such a dick.” I eventually chuckled, shaking my head.

“Get used to it,” He retorted and stepped away to wheel my suitcase further into the room, placing my bag down on the end of the plush bedspread. “You tired? Figured we could grab something to eat once Z’s home if you’re down.”

It was something I was used to, the whole jumping back and forth between serious and teasing, but I still found it sweet how he would tend to ask after me, simply to make sure that everything was still good.

I hummed in reply and took one last look at the pyjamas I'd been gifted. “I’m good, slept on the flight–”

“And drooled all over them First Class seats.” He butted in, earning himself a short glare which only proved to make him grin.

I should have known to have kept that shit to myself, fucker would probably lord it over my head forever.

“Uhuh, hilarious.” I deadpanned before continuing on like he hadn’t interrupted, “What’re you thinking of getting?”

The question went unanswered because it was then that the front door sounded, creaking open on its heavy hinges before it rattled closed. I jumped at the unexpected noise whilst Em simply glanced back over his shoulder, “That’ll be her.” He commented, confusing me for a second when he raised his hand and started a countdown on his fingers, “3, 2, 1–”

“Dad!”

I snorted at the precise timing, Marshall already moving towards the door at the call of his name and so I went to follow. It was just as we made it back out onto the hallway’s landing that he paused, “I can keep her occupied for a while if you wanna settle in, take a nap or something.”

It was an offer and a half from any parent to attempt to keep their kid at bay, I mean I’d done it a fair few times with an excitable Lottie over the years, but I waved it off, smiling when the girl’s voice called out again. “Dad?”

Marshall leaned in closer, hand clutching the bannister, and lowered his voice whilst his face got all serious, “Get out whilst you still can.”

Huffing out a mirthful breath, I couldn’t quite hide my smile. “I’m good, I'm actually excited to meet her.”

He paused and observed me for a moment, as though he was trying to see the truth behind that sentiment, which made me unsure. But I hoped he did find the sincerity in my words because it hadn’t been a lie, I was nervous to meet his daughter sure, wanted her to like me and not feel as though I was suddenly imposing on her life, but I had genuinely enjoyed her witty remarks and scathing comments when we had spoken the night before. She reminded me of a little of a younger Lotts.

Em eventually nodded at me, cheek dimpling ever so in a possible attempt to dampen his reaction, but before I could question it, the man was jogging down the stairs. “Up here, you monster. And what I tell you ‘bout yellin’?”

A familiar face poked its way out of the hall at the bottom of the staircase and the smile that dawned on it was beaming when she spotted her dad. “How are you gonna hear me if I don’t yell?” She replied, squealing when the man swept her up off feet and into a hug, peppering a line of kisses into her hair, “Dad!”

Marshall snorted at the reaction he’d garnered but eventually lowered the girl back down onto her feet, whilst I just stood at the bottom of the stairs watching them with a fond smile. “What?” He said in a put upon voice and ran a hand over the girl’s head, bulging his eyes out wide when Rosie pulled a face. “How was school, kiddo?”

Rosie pushed up onto the balls of her feet before she rocked back, “Good, I ran out to the car quick to get home ‘fore she gets here.”

The smirk the man took on was almost evil and he laughed when he cocked his head out to gesture behind the girl. “Just about managed it.”

A curtain of honey coloured hair swept over her shoulders when the girl twirled around on her heel, eyes widening in sudden surprise to find me standing there. “El!” She called out, a grin breaking across her features before she hurried over to engulf me in a hug too.

Even as surprised as I was by the gesture, I chuckled and lowered myself down to squeeze her back, smiling at Em from over the top of her head. “Hey,” I murmured gently, staying crouched even as we pulled apart, “Thanks for the pjs, they’re probably the best gift I’ve gotten in ages.”

That statement appeared to thrill the girl, who’s eyes twinkled under the soft lights, “I got a matching pair, guessed we could wear them tonight and watch a movie so you’d feel more at home.”

My heart burst at the thought, I was sure of it.

But then Marshall went to speak and I already knew what he’d been prepared to say, so instead of letting him ruin Rosie’s sweet plans, I was quick to jump in, “I’d love that.”

The smile she gave me was award worthy and she turned back to face her dad with that settled. “See, if you had gotten the same ones like I said, you could’ve joined!”

I snorted at the expression that then crossed Em’s face, his head jolting back a tad.

“You really didn’t get some to match?” I egged the girl on, mouth dropping open in a feigned amount of shock.

We were both met with a disbelieving shake of his head as the man blew out a heavy breath and turned away. “I’ll watch what I want and wear what I want, it’s my house.” He threw back at us as he headed further into the house, murmuring under his breath, “Women.”

Rosie and I shared a conspiratorial grin before we made to follow after him.

“It’s rude to just dump your friend, Dad.” Rosie commented once we’d wandered into the kitchen to find Em grabbing a couple of bottles out of the fridge, the girl slid onto a stool at the end of the island whilst I bit my cheek to keep from outright laughing.

Her words were met by an unimpressed stare that didn’t appear to phase her as she continued to swing her legs back and forth. The man let the fridge door slip close as he made his way over to join his daughter, handing her a bottle before sliding the other across the counter to me. “You got homework?”

Rosie’s eyes flickered from her dad to me, then back again, “Maybe, but it’s Math.”

“Well, we ain’t goin’ nowhere til it’s done.” Marshall told her with a small shrug, even though I’d seen his eyes widen at the thought of having to deal with numbers and sums. “Get changed and we can start on it, okay?”

The girl emitted a soft sigh but ultimately moved to jump down from off the stool, “You any good at Math, El?”

Biting down on my smirk, I ignored Em’s murmured warning of the girl’s name and answered, “Not bad, I might be a little help.”

“Anything’s better than my Dad’s attempts.”

“Yo, I try.” Marshall was all too quick to quip back in retort, his arms now crossed over his chest as he stared his daughter down with a slight frown.

Rosie’s smile was precious, but her eyes told another story. I knew then that she understood exactly how to keep her dad wrapped around her finger. She was a little menace and I already loved it. “I know, Daddy, my teacher said that my English homework was the best she’d read in a while.”

Em actually seemed to take pride in that and so I guessed he’d had a hand in that homework too. His daughter also appeared to take note of the fact that he was pleased because she hurried off then, calling out over her shoulder once more, “Be back in a sec!”

“Yellin’!” Marshall yelled, defeating the whole purpose of his previous argument, before he sighed and gestured me over towards the seat Rosie had just vacated. “See what I have to put up with?”

Scoffing, I moved to take up the stool whilst he picked up a few stray notes lying on the counter and placed a glass that had been left behind at some point into the sink. “You ain’t seen nothing yet. Wait til she’s thirteen and debating the point of riding a dirtbike to and from school with you.”

Em barked out a real laugh at that as he turned his back on the sink to shoot me a look that said ‘Really?’

I heaved a put upon sigh, fingers toying with the water bottle I’d been gifted.

“That’s not even the worst of it.” I told him as my mouth worked over a smile, “Before I left she asked if she and a few friends could stay at the house alone whilst I was away, because, and I repeat, ‘If there’s six of us then that basically equates to one whole adult’. I’m still genuinely scared that she went through with it even after I said no, keep checking the security cameras to make sure there isn't a herd of teenagers working their way inside.”

He wore an amused smirk but I noticed there were more than a few questions hiding behind his stare. They’d been there for a while now.

“You can ask.” I eventually said, appreciating the atmosphere his home offered, from the warm walls and the pictures that decorated the place, to the odd bits of mess that made the too large house look lived in.

Em worked his tongue into the curve of his cheek and watched me for a moment, before he eventually settled his forearms against the counter and leaned into it. “Kinda figured you took care of her, even before you mentioned that she was your sister.”

My gaze flickered down to the water droplets that clung to my fingertips, the bottle sweating from the change in temperature. “Yeah. I mean, I’m a lot older than her, so we sort of lived through different shit but I went through a lot as a kid, with like my mum and all the issues she had. When I found out that she was pregnant again it was through this woman who used to work with her at the local greengrocers when I was little. I just remembered thinking that I didn’t want that baby going through the same thing I did.”

My mind flashed back to the memory. Thinking of Annie’s wrinkled face and the relentless rain that had only just begun to let up. She had congratulated me.

“I was sixteen, had long since packed my shit up and left, but I’d never had the money to get too far. So I’d still spot her out and about.” I licked at the corner of my mouth, unwilling to meet his eye. “I went to see her after I’d heard, mostly out of anger. Her new boyfriend had moved in and I remember just being thankful for the fact that my brother had a friend that didn’t mind putting him up. She said she wasn’t using, just fags and the like, a cider here and there. Was surprised to see me, though she expected a big song and dance about the new baby.”

I picked at the water bottle’s label.

“When Lotts was actually born, her dad was locked up proper– facing sixteen years for armed robbery. Mum had her in a ward two months early and ended up leaving her there to go visit him. She was a preemie, tiny, too tiny, you know?” I murmured and could still picture her that small. “Mum she came back that same night mostly for a bed to sleep in, but had already found herself a fix. The nurses must have noticed that something was up, they’d asked to run blood tests and shit, but mum wouldn't have it. Would come and go during visiting hours whilst Lotts was in the NICU. I stayed, only leaving when I had a shift to work, and even then I’d come running straight back.”

Marshall just stood there listening and in truth I was thankful that he hadn’t thought to interrupt me to offer words of comfort or probe deeper. Although his eyes were serious when I finally managed to look over at him, listening intently.

I rubbed my lips together before getting on with it, “I moved back in with her when Lottie was finally able to come home. Ended up taking care of the kid when I was still just a kid myself, only so that she didn’t get tossed into care or fucking overdose on whatever shit mum and whoever else left lying around. It was just the two of us for a while, before my brother, Danny, came back. He’d gotten caught up in something with these older lads on the estate and was still at school, so I worked nights down at this pub under the table to keep up with rent and he’d watch over her for a few hours. It was there that I started performing just for extra cash, like on mic nights and stuff.”

Em squinted and for the first time he opened his mouth to contribute something, “That’s where you got found, right?”

I was sure I hadn’t mentioned that in any of our conversations and so I could only guess that he’d done a little bit of digging on me, the thought made me want to laugh but instead I simply smiled. “Yeah, some scout just happened to be passing through.”

He hummed, taking that in.

“But by the time anything really came about, my brother had long since gone off to join the army and Lottie was seven.” I mentioned, eyes jumping back and forth between him and the bottle I still clung to, “I’d always taken care of her, but then I was suddenly needed elsewhere to make these dreams come true, to make money, to give her a better future.”

I knew that he could relate to that, to the utter struggle and fear I’d faced, terrified it would all fall through and I’d be left with nothing again.

“I didn’t really have a choice about leaving her though so she stayed with a neighbour at first, then her dad’s aunt who was nice enough to pop round sometimes, she was an older frail woman. I managed to actually land something eventually and started work on an album, but even after that the weight of anxiety had settled and I was working so hard just to keep all of these producers' attention.”

I swallowed thickly at the next flashback that had hastily followed.

“Shit went down while I was over here in The States.”

I felt sick each time I thought about it, hardly even dared even attempt to bring it up even to those few that knew. Lotts didn’t really remember any of it though, didn’t recall the hospital scare or my frantic need to make sure that she was okay for weeks after it had happened.

“I flew back that night and managed to sort of work things out. Threw a fucking toaster at my mum’s head I was so angry–” I snorted stupidly, “It missed. But after that I couldn’t trust her. She’d lost any sort of love I’d held for her. That was about five years ago now though, so she’s a bit different. Trying, she says. But Lotts stays with me until the very second I can’t help it.”

Blowing out a shaky breath, I willed my gaze to meet his and was taken back by the intensity of his stare.

“Sounds like a piece of work.” Marshall eventually commented and it honest to God made me laugh, allowing me to fill that hollow in my heart for a second and be grateful for the ease of it, because I really wasn’t too sure if I’d been about ready to cry at his kitchen table. “But I get it.” He added, “I think it’s great what you did for her, too. She probably won’t realise that til later but you should hear it.”

I glanced away, eyes suddenly stinging and tried to smile. “Yeah, well.” I tittered, wiping the corner of my eye discreetly, “She’s staying with her now and it’s got me on edge.”

Marshall moved around the kitchen island to place a careful hand on my shoulder, squeezing slightly before he ended up dragging me into a one armed hug. “You’re tough. Which means she’s gotta be too. I’m sure she’s just doing what kids do and messin’ around with her friends. Remember that’s all I did growing up, anything was better than bein’ in that house.”

A small snort escaped me as we parted, though he stayed near. “Because that’s so reassuring.”

He clucked his tongue and grinned, knocking shoulders with me, “I was a good kid, didn’t do nothin’ bad.”

“Uhuh,” I felt the need to drag out, “The image of an angel, Marshall Mathers.”

“Too fuckin’ right.”

“Dollar!”

It seemed we both jumped at the sudden reappearance of Rosie, who came sweeping into the room with a finger pointed at her father and an armful of school supplies. The skin between my brows pinched in confusion before the man beside me answered her, giving me the explanation I needed.

“For what?”

“You swore.” The girl shot back at him and climbed onto the stool beside me to settle her notebook down as well as a few pages of paper and pens.

Marshall ended huffing, unable to deny that he had and moved towards the cupboard by the large, sliding glass door.

“Maybe don’t eavesdrop on conversations. Reckon you owe a dollar for that, girlie.” He’d since grabbed a plastic tub and I was honestly surprised by the sparse amount of notes that were hidden inside it. Em must have spotted my surprise though and equated it to what it meant because he spoke again, “It gets emptied every couple a’ weeks and that monster over there gets to choose what we spend it on.”

Rosie perked up at the mention. “Last time I got him to take me fishing.”

“Fishing?” I wondered, blinking at the revelation. I looked back at Marshall and laughed, “I’m sorry but I can’t imagine you in that scenario.”

“Ha ha.” The man said impassively, widening my grin whilst he tugged two dollars out from his back pocket and shovelled them into the jar before he returned it to its rightful place.

“He only caught one.” Rosie piped up, already having written the date in that backwards way the American’s preferred, “It was real cute.”

I raised a brow and shot it Em’s way. “Cute?”

Rosie’s smile was big and bright, “Yeah! He said we had to let it go though ‘cause it was so small.”

Marshall rolled his eyes and then pointed between the pair of us. “You two keep this whole thing up imma go out to eat by myself. Bunch’a bullies, I swear.”

Rosie and I broke into a fit of giggles at that which only made the man’s expression flatten that much more, he waited for us to get over it before he looked between us and the notebook which had been laid out. “Enjoy Math, I’m gonna go grab a burger.”

“No!” I laughed brightly, spinning on my stool when he started to walk back around the island, “We want food too.”

“Yeah, we’ll start a riot, we're that hungry.” Rosie told him and I couldn’t muffle the rest of my giggles. Marshall merely rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time.

“Math, then we can talk food.” He declared, tickling his daughter’s side as he slid in beside her to get a better look at the worksheet she had. His eyes widened. “They got you using letters now too?”

Rosie’s laughter filled the kitchen and I got a first row ticket to watch her and her dad’s light ribbing as we started in on the first question. The sight of it made my heart swell in truth, it was just so easy to see how much love they held for one another.

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caustinen · 3 months

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Omg I’m actually so in love with your Hollywood au 😭😭 do you have any headcanons for them? Like how they started dating, or what they do on a daily basis, general domestic things!!

Hi!! Sorry I took so long to reply but your ask sent me SPIRALLING — this whole au was such a random quick thing and I never expected it to go anywhere, but thinking of a response to this I got so into it I might actually manage to write something!

Just the first meeting hc got so ridiculously long that I’ll respond to the domestic hc’s (I HAVE SO MANY) on a separate post and tag you! Thank you for the inspiration luv 💘

HOLLYWOOD AU! First meeting:

Their first impressions are not very good… John hasn’t made it big yet but he’s definitely getting some attention so he decides to relocate to Hollywood and find a good PR-team around himself despite having always thought that the marketing/branding side of his profession is capitalistic nonsense — and while he has changed his attitude to the exctent of ”if you can’t beat them join them”, he’d still expect all the suits to be cold business men who don’t care about the art of it all.

Gale on the other hand expects all actor clients to be self-obsessed nepo pricks; he’s been climbing in the industry steadily for years and enjoys the challenge of bringing the best versions of people out and finding them their best options (he takes pride in being very good at what he does) but since initially he ended up in the industry through his love for film, he’s also often annoyed by the up-and-coming stars who only care for the fame.

Loud, relaxed and seemingly no-care-in-the-world John fits this prejudice perfectly, as does John’s expectation for an uptight, borderline rude PR-executive in a suit — at the end of the meeting he chooses a much more laid-back seeming guy called Brady to represent him, and Gale is relieved he’s not stuck with him, he really is, despite the teasing, annoying smile of that bastard refusing to leave his mind for the rest of the day.

Their second meeting is somehow WORSE, in a week or so a meeting runs long so Brady invites John to after-work drinks. Gale looks so different out of his suit (now in a white t-shirt and black pants that hug his waist tightly, hair mussled and curlier after a long day of running his hands through it) that Bucky is absolutely blinded for a second and goes to introduce himself flirtily. Gale stares at him for a bit before informing him they met last week and while John is able to laugh it off with the others, this doesn’t exactly help with Gale’s image of him (why can’t i get that smirk off my mind when he couldn’t even bother to note me??)

It doesn’t help that Bucky gets very drunk and keeps seeking his company, not caring he’s only receiving grunts as reply to his stories told draped over the blonde’s shoulders as Gale sips on his non-alcoholic beer (he also shares the Buck story and starts calling him Buck like in the show), and whatever progress John might’ve done to make him almost smile a couple of times is undone immediately as he flirts with everyone else just as much when he leaves Gale’s side, cementing him in Gale’s mind as a playboy who’s gotten a bit too into his own head with his modest success lately and decides to forget all about him.

After that they run each other a couple of times at the office and social gatherings, and things are civil enough, they chat briefly each time but there’s some strange tension between them that makes Gale uneasy and John confused and a bit frustrated because he usually gets along with everyone but this man just seems to be immune to his usual charm; he can’t understand why the man is seems so cold and barely ever speaks up, that sweet smile he rarely sees him show others is completely wasted on him in his opinion.

They only properly meet again at a premier of John’s new movie a couple of months down the road, the first one under Gale’s firm, and end up in the backroom between the red carpet and John walking into the theater post-film (Brady is busy with organizing everything) and it’s TENSE, they’ve never been in a room by just the two of them and John is obviously nervous wreck which makes him antsy and Gale isn’t making any effort to make small-talk to ease his nerves (he’s not a natural at that okay, and esp with John he doesn’t know what to say)

Only when John is basically doubled over on the couch groaning into his hands as the film approaches its end Gale is forced to interfere. ”Why are you so upset?” ”They’re gonna hate it.” Gale is thrown off, never expecting to see this vulerable side underneath all that loud confidence. ”They’re not gonna hate it.” John scoffs. ”And how would you know?” Gale frowns, annoyed. ”Listen, it’s not Casablanca but you had to know that walking into the project, and you give it enough life to keep the tension up ’till the end. This is your best work since Thorpe Abbotts so just sit back and relax.”

John stares at him, mouth open, despair forgotten for a while. ”You know my work?” he asks, blindsighted, and Gale blushes and turns away. ”Maybe. I go to most films they show in my local theatre so don’t make too much of it.” John doesn’t have time to digest the words properly before he’s ushered to take the applause of the crowd, but it stays with him.

Things shift after that. John starts to pay attention to what Gale says, and realizes while he might speak rarely, when he does it’s always meaningful and thought-out. When Brady wants to make him do some new audition tapes he asks him to bring some of his collegues for second opinions, and he’s satisfied to see Gale roll up to the little studio they’ve rented one afternoon.

Wanting to impress Gale apparently works wonders because he feels like he reaches a new level with scene they’re working with, and the feedback reflects this. Even Gale gives him an approving nod, which somehow sends butterflies down his insides.

He turns his show-off when they go for drinks as a group next time to actually have a conversation with the blonde, and it turns out Gale is OBSESSED with old hollywood — whenever things were bad in his childhood home (often) he’d hide himself into the world of fiction of all kinds, and he’s seen an obscene number of films and loves learning trivia about it too, film star biographies are his favorite genre of books. He used to go to his little local movie theatre so much he was eventually offered a job there and could help with picking the movies, but his brief dreams of being an actor were never realized as he knew he needed a less pecarious job to give himself the stability his childhood home didn’t offer.

Learning these pieces of information draws John even more facinated with him, and Gale seems to be laughing at more and more of his jokes too. Once Gale lets his guard down he has also started to see John underneath the bravado, and makes mental notes to check out the books he recommends and he might even lightly flirt back these days, secretly enjoying the those dark, observant eyes fixed on him and squeezing into a surprised smile.

All in all, it’s been going better for a while until a faithful day, when they’re doing another auditiong tape. Bucky’s been rejected from a film he really wanted earlier that day, and his previous film has gotten some lukrwarm reviews upon getting into streaming services, so he’s in a shitty mood, and the unimpressed faces Gale keeps making annoy him to no end.

They call it a day and they agree to meet at a bar closeby to start the weekend and get everyone’s spirits up. The beer only serves to make Bucky more upset tho, espescially when he sees Gale hitting it up with someone who walks up to him, laughing at his stuff and looking relaxed in a way he never quite does with him. A bit drunk and a lot angry he follows him to the bathroom, Gale noticing him as he walks in with the same swing of the door. He turns around and greets him, the smile from talking to that whatever dude still lingering on his lips being John’s final straw.

”Oh, so you can be happy? Thought it was fucking impossible to achieve.” Gale’s smile immediately drops and his posture shifts, arms crossing over his chest. ”What are you talking about?” ”You’re always making those faces no matter what I do. You’ll ruin your pretty face with all that frowning.” ”What on earth are you-” ”When I try to talk with you. Or when I do a scene and you’re supposed to help but you just keep looking at me like I’m an idiot. I don’r get it.”

Gale starts to get upset too now, something John has never seen before, his calmness finally breaking. ”What do you want me to say?!” ”I don’t know, be fucking supportive for once?!” ”I am being supportive by being honest! Do you think that was the best you can do?” It surprises John, but he’s already too worked up to back down. ”Well what if it is?” They’ve gotten closer to each other in the empty men’s room, and Gale’s hands are no longer crossed, he’s pointing at John’s chest and staring him down. ”You have so much goddman potential, John Egan, and it’s killing me to see you waste it like that. Reach for something bigger. Get more complex charachters, more nunaced scripts. If it takes you hating me to hear that then so be it.” John scoffs despite the blush trying to creep to his cheeks. ”Well since you know fucking everything maybe you should help me find those roles.” ”I’m not your agent, or your publicist, or your mom, or your boyfriend, I don’t see how it’s any of my-” They’re practically yelling at each other, and without thinking John takes the wrist of Gale’s hand poking his chest to his and pushes it down so they’re chest to chest, noses almost touching, so close they’ve gotten. ”Maybe you could just help me out if you didn’t hate me so much.” John isn’t yelling anymore, and all of Gale’s nerves are on fire, he can feel John’s breath on his cheeks, his own pulse pounding in his chest. ”I don’t hate-” And that’s as far as he gets before John crashes their lips together, the small movement inevidable as the sun coming up each morning.

Gale makes a muffled sound into the kiss and goes to grab his shirt, pulling him closer as John reaches to cup the back of his head. The kiss is just as messy and teethy and perfect as the months of growing tension between them has promised. Gale wants to climb him and bite him and drag him down the floor, his own desire punching air out of him as John stumbles until his back hits the wall, his big hand protecting his head from the hard impact. They are lost in it until their lips are swollen and bruised and they’re both more than half-hard after being pressed so tightly together, and Gale bites his abused lips to silence a moan trying to escape him as John dips down to suck and lick on his sweaty neck, his own hand tangling in his curls and pulling and feeling victorious as John makes a choked sound. He pulls until their eyes meet again, and he’s sure his own pupils are as big as John’s as they stare at each other for a moment, both of them trying to catch their breath like they just ran a marathon. ”You drive me fucking insane,” Gale grits at him, and John laughs a short sound. ”I drive you insane?! You’re the one prancing around… Being all, you know, intelligent and sexy with your James Dean features and Paul Newman eyes.” Gale stares at him for a little bit, mouth open, before pulling him into another kiss.

They go back to Gale’s eventually (Gale comes back to himself enough to realize he does not want to be caught with all his collegues on the other side of the bathroom wall) and they make out for a while more, little less heated but just as passionate, but when it’s getting more intense again John has a moment of clarity and pulls away. He’s drunk and tired and overwhelmed and he doesn’t want this to be just a hook-up. Gale understands but asks John to stay the night anyway and he ends up sleeping on his coach that night. It’s a bit awkward in the morning because neither of them really knows what to say and John’s just about to leave, thinking this was a mistake after all, when Gale suggest they’d watch a movie, and the nervous hope in his face grips John’s heart enough to realize there’s no walking away from what he’s started to feel for this man. They watch a film, and another, and by the third the funny commentary both of them make has shifted into the movie playing in the background as they make out, Gale in John’s lap, and it feels right.

John ends up staying the whole weekend, they just watch films and make dinner together and get to know each other. John is scared he’ll overstay his welcome but Gale makes it feel natural, and the exciting newness of it all is addicting, and perhaps exactly because they’ve had to overcome so many of their own prejudices about the other everything feels more vibrant and exciting. Seeing Gale relaxed and smiely and silly and nervous as he rolls his eyes at him when he sings along to the radio as they cook makes his heart miss a beat. He’s completely prepared to not go further than kissing for now but after a delicious, footsie heavy dinner on Sunday evening at Gale’s kitchen they finally end up in bed, and it feels just right that their first time together is slow and searching and absolutely perfect, and they get the final confirmation that their chemistry seems to be working out pretty fucking well.

After that weekend, John never accepts a role without running it by Gale first (they often read them together naked in bed on the weekends, making each other giggle while dramatically imaging the scenes while leaning into each other amongst the fluffy pillows), and within a year he’s a rising star and his name is on everyone’s lips, but he’s only got one pair of lips in mind.

It isn’t just smooth sailing after that either, navigating a relationship and his career and the publicy, but as slow as their love might have started it’s all the more steady for it, and it never stops growing.

SORRY THIS GOT SO INTENSE!!! Literally all of this came to me as I thought how to respond to your ask so thank you for being a major motivation 🖤

#buck x bucky #clegan #mota #masters of the air #gale cleven #john egan #writing #buck #bucky #hollywood au

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sammysficfactory · 1 year

Text

JJK men’s reaction to you calling them a whore/slut

characters: nanami, gojo, geto, and toji

notes: if you want me to go more in depth for a character lmk!

Nanami Kento

oh em gee

he is SHOCKED

have you no shame? no decorum?

“You look like a whore when you wear your suit without a blazer.” you deadpanned.

“Excuse me?” Nanami is thoroughly confused, hoping he didn’t hear you correctly. But he did. And who could blame you?

“You heard what I said.” You shrug.

he would never admit it, but he liked it

the way you said it so outright threw him for a LOOP honey

if he were a rich woman he’d be clutching his pearls

“Don’t say it like that. Just say you think it’s nice and move on like normal people do.” Nanami rolls his eyes at you. If you looked close enough you could see a light pink dusting the tips of his ears.

you laugh at him for being flustered

but you’re a good person so you suppress it a little bit

as you call him a whore more often he gets used to it

don’t get me wrong, it still flusters the hell out of him

but he’s accepted it as part of your relationship dynamic

Satoru Gojo

i can’t even lie to you

gojo would like it

“You look like a slut in that outfit.” You say in a nonchalant fashion. Gojo smirks.

“Do I look like a slut? Or do you see something you like.” he leans forward to you, the proximity of your faces distressingly close.

if you thought his ego was big then

i can promise you it’s 10x bigger now

“You want me so bad.” Gojo laughs smugly. You scoff.

“You wish.”

the truth is you DID want him

he was in that black tee and wearing sweats😩

I CANT BLAME YOU

despite the two of you being in a relationship gojo loved to tease you like you were still single

gojo probably bites his finger every time he thinks about the first time you called him a slut

every few weeks he texts you ‘remember that time you wanted me so bad that you said i looked like a slut? i do🤭’

he be swinging his feet back and forth as he types it out

Geto Suguru

if he’s nothing else, he’s definitely gojo’s friend

he’s a good sport about it

“You look like a whore when your hair is in a bun.” Geto does a double take.

“I- what?” He’s confused. One moment you were sitting in a peaceful silence with your boyfriend, and the next you’re calling him a slut?

very confused about the train of thought you took to get to that conclusion

but after a few times he gets used to it

and his replies are definitely something

“You look like a slut in those glasses.” you say flatly. Geto sighs,

“Come slut me out then.” he says, leaning back and spreading his legs slightly on the couch.

when you hear him say it for the first time you almost caught whiplash

you for the first time in the entirety of your relationship, were at a loss for words

it was BAD

you opened and closed your mouth like a goldfish bc you couldn’t find anything to say

you in fact do slut him out once you gather yourself

he’s smug asf for the next week

Toji Fushiguro

he’s shocked too

but his reaction was a lot different

“Toji, you look really slutty in that outfit.” You eye him up and down.

“Bitch?” he quickly apologizes for his knee-jerk reaction.

“Watch that bitch word, Toji! Deadass.” You narrow your eyes at him. He already knew how you felt about that word.

he saw his life flash before his eyes when he said ‘bitch’

he’s super smug too

he isn’t as bad as gojo or geto though

it becomes a running inside joke between the two of you

toji would do shit like send photos of his outfit and say ‘feeling extra slutty today’

and it might make you chuckle a little when he sends them

“You’re not going to the market with me looking like a whore Toji, go change.” you joked.

“Wow, are you slut shaming me right now? I thought you were a feminist.” He accuses you in fake shock.

“I’m getting women’s lick back.” you justify yourself.

does it sound kinda weird to other people? yes

but did you care is the real question

the answer is no

594 notes · View notes

lincolndjarin · 1 year

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter eight : solar markets (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.3k

summary : the mandalorian takes reader on a day trip

warnings, etc. : language, reader thinks about sex like a little bit

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

It’s nice to wake up excited again.

You wish you could say that it happened more often but hopefully it will from now on. It’s going to be your first time leaving the castle grounds since you got here. You’ve spent the last four weeks cooped up and you couldn’t be more thrilled to finally get to see something new.

As much as you love the library it can be suffocating to spend every single day between those four walls.

So you summon Elaine and Lysa as quickly as possible, grinning as you stand in the mirror until you notice the faint blooms of purple on your waist.

Shit.

You have to rush to find undergarments that will cover them and you’re barely pulling them over your hips as the door swings open.

“Good morning ma’am.” Elaine smiles at you as she grabs a brush, going to stand behind you to comb out the knots in your hair. She snaps her fingers sharply and points to the closet signaling for Lysa to fetch you a gown.

“Good morning Elaine.” You give her a smile, “Good morning Lysa!” You say slightly louder as you watch in the mirror as she brings out a flowy lilac gown. “I’m going out today girls.” You turn to smile at both of them.

“Is that so ma’am? Where are you going?” Elaine speaks as she pulls the dress over your head and begins lacing up the corset.

“The Mandalorian is accompanying me to the markets in the city today.” You try to hold back a bit of the enthusiasm in your voice.

“Mhmm. That sounds wonderful ma’am.” Her head turns. “Go get her a cloak, and then go find Leodall to give her some credits.”

“Of course.” In a rush Lysa threw a light gray cloak onto the bed and darted out of the room. Elaine dressed you in near silence after that, softly humming a song to herself every once in a while as you let her straighten the cloak over your shoulders.

It gives you time to think.

Are things going to be different now? It would be hard to go back to how things were at this point, but you don’t want to have to act like strangers again. You’ve agreed to keep having sex at the very least which is a huge relief, but you also want to make sure that you can still talk to him. Just act normal. Act like nothing is different.

She’s quick with your makeup, doing some simple little accents around your eyes and letting your hair fall around your face in a way she typically doesn’t.

“Even though you haven’t made many public appearances it will be best to keep your face mostly hidden my lady.” She adjusts the hood slightly over your hair to shield the top of your head. You nod slowly.

“Is there a bag I can take?” Is all you have to say in response, you aren’t particularly worried about any threats in the city. After all, you have Mando. Who, now that you’re thinking about it, you have never seen in action. Sure he’s big and imposing but it’s still troubling to think that he might be all talk. He does love to talk. You’ll be fine. He wouldn’t take you into the city if he couldn’t protect you.

Probably.

Elaine throws a white satchel over your shoulders and takes a step back to admire her work before nodding.

“If you’re ready I’m sure he’s waiting for you.” She gives you a grin before leaving. You take a good look at yourself in the mirror, Elaine really does work wonders. You honestly aren’t sure how she does it, it’s not like you’re unattractive by any means but you don’t think you were this alluring back on Hoth.

Is it okay to hope that he notices? That doesn’t break any rules right?

You don’t have long to wonder because Leodall is bursting into the room holding a small leather coin purse. Holding it out to you.

“I wish you had given me more warning princess… this was what I was able to put together on such short notice.” He’s seemingly trying to catch his breath still as you take the purse and open it, your eyes going wide. You were royalty back on Hoth but clearly not this royal. There’s more credits than you could possibly know what to do with inside.

“A-are you sure?” You manage to stammer out, you’re nervous just holding them.

“I mean if you’d like I can see if I can make it down to the vaults but it will take me much longer to get more, how much do-” You cut him off.

“Nevermind Leo. Thank you.” You give him a reassuring smile as you put the credits in your bag and dismiss him with a nod. You slip on a pair of riding boots before exiting the room yourself.

He looks different.

Scarier.

You clearly hadn’t been getting the full Mandalorian before because now there’s somehow more attachments. Ammunition. He’s shinier if that was somehow possible, like he polished his armor for this outing and he’s got a brown canvas bag thrown over his shoulder.

He looks like a proper killer.

Why does that send a rush of heat between your legs?

“Good morning, princess.” He gives you a curt nod.

So far so good.

“Good morning Mando. You look… nice.” You tilt your head slightly, getting a real eyeful of him before meeting his visor.

Okay this is a little more difficult than you thought it was going to be.

Of course it’s harder than you thought it’d be to have a conversation with someone you’ve had impulse hate sex with.

You just want things to be normal. Just friends. You can do this, this is what you wanted so you need to make it work, you will make it work.

“Are you ready?”

“Always.” He turns on his heel to start making his way down the hall and you swiftly follow.

“Will we be walking there?” You can’t stop smiling at the prospect of finally actually seeing other people.

“It’s a bit far for that. We’ll take a speeder.”

“Like a bike?” You can’t hide the excitement in your voice, as he lets out a low chuckle.

“No princess. I don’t think it would be proper for me to take you into the city on a speeder bike. We’ll be taking a landspeeder.” You try to hide your disappointment as he leads you through the twisting halls until you finally reach the familiar front gates. You’d only ever gone in through them when you arrived all those weeks ago. When you went to the garden you had taken back exits. Mando is already talking to a droid near the gate and you can’t catch what he’s saying but he comes back with two silver bands, holding one out to you. “Palace rules, if you’re leaving the grounds you’ve gotta wear it.” He easily clips his on as you fumble with the clasp on yours.

“What are they for?” You can’t help but bite your lip as you try to get the damn thing on before finally he takes your wrist and does it for you.

“Trackers.” He says it like he doesn’t like the taste of the word in his mouth but you choose to ignore it as he walks through the gate, scanning the bracelet as he does so, you follow his lead and then you’re outside. A light blue landspeeder is waiting for the two of you and you take his hand as he helps you get into the back seat before pulling himself up next to you. The driver nervously turns to stare at him but says nothing as he turns back around. “Solar Markets.” Is all Mando has to say in that stern, bounty hunter tone before you’re flying.

✩

It’s annoyingly beautiful.

You’d convinced yourself that Naboo was a place you had been condemned to but it’s stunning. It’s greener than you’d realized and you swear you hear Mando laugh at the awestruck look on your face.

He looks comfortable like this, leaning back, his arms spread out across the back of the seat. You must look like an over eager child the way your eyes keep darting around. You almost want to ask if you can keep riding around for a bit when the speeder stops.

Almost.

But the markets are much more enticing.

Alive and buzzing with people, there’s probably more people just on this street than there were in your entire colony back home. Mando helps you out of the speeder by lifting you up by your waist and once you’re on the ground you pull your hood back up. He leans down to whisper to you.

“No one is going to recognize you, it’s okay.” Is he smiling? It sounds like he’s smiling. You let the hood fall and run your fingers through your hair to try and brush the wind out of it. He holds his arm out and you briskly take it, clutching yourself close to him as he starts walking. It’s almost like a small path through the crowds clears whenever you walk and you immediately regret letting your hood down until you realize it’s not for you.

They’re scared of him.

People get quiet when you walk near them, they whisper, eyes start darting around frantically.

“I didn’t realize you had a reputation…” You mumble, leaning closer to him.

“Not me princess, my people in general. Don’t worry about it, it just means no one is going to mess with you.” He lets out a chuckle as he slows his pace.

“What are they saying about you?” You look warily around the crowds, holding on to Mando’s arm a little tighter.

He fidgets with something on his gauntlet and is silent for a few minutes as you walk before he fidgets with it again.

“Just your usual Mandaloian panic, mostly people worried about you.”

“Me?” You can’t help it when your voice goes up a pitch. It makes him chuckle softly.

“Some people are worried you're my prisoner.”

“Why would people think that?” You can’t help but look up at him in confusion.

“Usually we travel alone, or with other Mandalorians. Or people don’t see us at all, some people are just concerned that I’m holding you captive.” Why does he sound like he’s enjoying that fact?

“Well that’s annoying.” You scoff.

“So, what are we shopping for today?” He tilts the helmet down to look at you as you take in the dozens upon dozens of stands. It’s entirely possible that they will have quite literally anything you could ask for.

“I didn’t actually have anything in mind… can we just look around?”

“Of course.” Okay, he’s definitely smiling.

The two of you arm in arm walk through the first street of stalls. Nothing in particular catches your eye, it mostly seems like antiques and other such things, it must take well over an hour though and as he turns you down the next street you're hit with a wave of different smells as you start your trek through what you figure is the food stands. Your stomach lets out a small grumble since you skipped breakfast for this.

“Are you hungry? Can you eat if no one is looking?” You say softly, turning towards him.

“Someone is always looking. I’ll eat when we get back.”

You can’t help but frown. It passes quickly though as you get an idea. You keep your eyes peeled for a specific stand.

“You called this the Solar Markets earlier?” You say absentmindedly, still looking around.

“Yes. During the day they are called the Solar Markets, at night they do a quick turn around and then open the Lunar Markets.” He’s speaking so softly you can barely hear him and you wonder if he does it on purpose to keep up appearances of a stoic silent killer.

“Will we be able to stay for the Lunar Markets?” You turn to him hopefully and you hear the beginning of a laugh before the modulator cuts off. He takes a second before you hear the filter crackling back to life.

“No princess. I will have to find a way to sneak you out after hours to show you the Lunar Markets.” His voice is tinged with amusement.

“Why? Are they dangerous?” You instinctively squeeze his arm tighter.

“Not at all, we’re just going to have to make sure you don’t have a tracker on when we go, I’m sure I’d get in a lot of trouble if anyone found out you went, we’ll have to keep your hood up for that trip.” There’s a teasing tone to his voice that you don’t get.

“Are you going to tell me why or am I going to have to guess?”

“I think it will be better if it’s a surprise.” He whispers as he pats your arm gently. You’re about to interrogate him further but you see what you’re looking for and drop his arm, jogging up ahead to a stand, handing over what is definitely too many credits as you tell the Gungan running the stand to keep the change, Mando is right behind you when you turn around, you’ve got a big smile on your face.

“Don’t run off like that. Just because nobody knows you doesn’t mean you aren’t precious cargo.” His voice is stern but you don’t let it bother you as you hold up your purchase.

“Look what I got us.” You're beaming ear to ear. “It’s pear and some kind of spikey melon I didn’t recognize.” You hold the smoothie up towards his helmet and he tilts his head ever so slightly.

“Okay…?” He says it slowly like he’s being careful not to hurt your feelings.

“It has a straw! So you don’t have to take your helmet off.” You say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world as you take a sip. It’s thick, and sweeter than you were expecting but it goes down smooth and you can’t stop smiling as you hold it out towards him.

“That’s very kind of you princess… but it might affect the presence I’m trying to put out if I’m walking around with a straw under my helmet.” He sounds serious as he says it which makes you lose the smile as you think again for a moment.

“Okay. I need to tell you something.” You take his hand and pull him just behind the stall, out of sight of most of the people.

“You’re confusing me princess.” He laughs softly. “What do you want to tell me?” He puts his hands on his hips and you hold a finger out to make a “come closer” motion.

“I have to whisper it.” He sighs as he leans down so his face is next to yours and your mouth is where his ear would be. “Release the airlock on your helmet.” You whisper it and he starts to pull back but you put your hands on his shoulders. “Please. Just for a second.” He lets out another exasperated sigh but after a moment you hear a hiss of air and you bite back a giggle as you bring the drink up between the two of you and shove the straw under the edge of his helmet, you use your body to shield him from anyone passing by. If anyone looked it would look like you were just whispering a secret to him. There’s a moment where you’re worried you’ve gone too far but then you hear a quiet slurping noise and you know you’ve won. After a moment he pulls back and you can see through the clear cup that he’s downed a solid quarter of it. The air hissed as he resealed his helmet.

“Happy?” He has a mock tone of defeat as you grin.

“Extremely.” You take his arm again and lead him back into the crowd as you sip at the drink lazily while you walk. “Did you like it?” You don’t bother concealing the satisfaction in your voice.

“It was a little sweet for me… but yes.”

“I knew you would. I’m always right.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Do you come here at night to buy food or do you just get stuff from the castle?” As you speak you walk over to a pastry stand and drop a pile of credits into the young woman's hand as you take a few small cakes and cookies and put them into your bag, waving off the change again.

“I usually just eat ration packets back at my cabin.”

Full stop.

“Why aren’t you getting food from the kitchens?” You take a step in front of him, staring up into his visor with your arms crossed. You’d had ration packets plenty of times back on Hoth when they were unable to get cargo ships in. They were filling but honestly you’d found them gross most of the time. You didn’t like the idea of him relying solely on those when he had so many other options available to him.

“I never thought to do so. I’ve always just eaten rations packs.” He sounds almost bored with the conversation as you glare up at him. You want to scold him but you know he won’t listen so instead you make a mental note to pick up a few things while you’re here. You take his arm and start walking again. “Do you need anything else from this street or do you want to go to the next one?” He whispers it like he’s unsure if you’re mad at him.

“I’m done here, we can go to the next one.” You keep it light, not wanting anything to ruin this day as he brings you down the next street. This is easily the biggest, most crowded area. It seems like the majority of the vendors set up shop here and you’re having trouble focusing on any single stand as you start your slow trek. A particularly sharp burst of color catches your eye as you approach the stand. The Toydarian manning the shop seems nervous about Mando but you ignore it as you start searching through the plastic flowers.

“We have the gardens at home, why the hell do you need fake flowers?” His eyes are looking around the shelves as he speaks and you find the plastic lilies you were looking for.

“I had these growing up. I just want some for my room.” You can’t help but smile at the idea of having a piece of home back in your chambers, as you hand the shopkeep the credits you catch Mando also handing him some as he shoves something into his bag. You don’t ask because once you leave another stand has already caught your eye.

“Oh no. You’re not getting that.” He’s groaning as you run up to the droid selling vibroblades.

“Come on, they’re all so small I won’t be able to do much damage with one anyway.” You’re peeking through the display case at the knives, settling on a simple dainty one, it’s entirely silver, handle and blade. The droid retrieves it the moment you point it out and you hand him the credits as you put it into the sheath provided before shoving it into your bag.

“Why do you even need that? You have me to protect you.” He puts a hand on his hip but you just take his arm and push him to keep him walking.

“Just for emergencies. Don’t worry about it.” He sighs as you keep walking.

“What emergency? You have a state of the art locking system on your door and a state of the art bodyguard.” He sounds almost offended and you burst into laughter.

“Please don’t tell me you’re jealous of a knife.” You can hear a little huff of air coming from the modulator.

“No.” There’s that bounty hunter voice.

“Oh come on, don’t be jealous, I promise I like you more than the blade.” You poke his pauldron as you tease him.

“I’m not jealous.” He scoffs out.

“Just making sure.”

✩

You spend the rest of the day in the third street of the market. It’s massive, you don’t even get a chance to see every stand. You aren’t even sure you’ve seen half of them. Around midday you take out one of the little cakes you’d bought and eat it, offering him half but of course he declines. You buy a lovely crystal vase for your faux flowers, a few other little snacks you find and several bowls with sealable lids. You’re sure that purchase has Mando raising an eyebrow but he doesn’t say anything.

You’re exhausted by the time the sun is lowering in the sky but you don’t want this day to end. You can tell he’s about to call it as you see a stand that catches your eye and you drag him along to it, you can feel a slight resistance as he realizes where you’re dragging him but it’s too late because you’re already talking to the woman folding fabrics at the entrance.

“Do you by any chance have other wares I could peruse in the back?” You give her a smile as she looks warily between you and the Mandalorian before nodding and taking your hand. He starts to follow but you put a hand against his chestplate.

“You’re not going anywhere without me.” His tone has gotten all stiff and bounty hunter serious as he gently takes your wrist and removes your hand.

“I’m trying on clothes. You need to wait outside.”

It’s way too tense for such a simple request. You can feel the shopkeep trembling behind you but you don’t drop the glare you’ve got trained on his visor. You don’t know how long you stand like that. Scowling at each other. Definitely too long but eventually he sighs and takes a step back.

“Ten minutes. If you don’t come out, I’m going in.” He points a warning finger at you but plants his feet and you know he’ll stay put as you give him a big grin before following the woman into the back.

It’s exactly what you thought it would be.

A lot of the stuff was classier out front but you knew there would most likely be skimpier options where the public couldn’t see them. You started looking through the shelves of lace and silk. You’re only doing so for a moment before the woman is clearing her throat.

“Are you okay, miss?” Her voice is small and timid as she looks over her shoulder anxiously. You raise an eyebrow in confusion.

“Yes…? Why do you ask?” You look away from the woman as you find a shelf exclusively containing green fabrics. Jackpot.

“It’s just, I don’t mean to intrude but- but I’ve never seen a…” She leans in to whisper. “A Mandalorian traveling with someone before. I just want to make sure you aren’t being held against your will. Such a pretty young woman, accompanying such a dangerous man.”

Oh.

Well you should have seen that coming. You give her a reassuring smile. You want to be offended on his behalf but maybe you just didn’t truly grasp how afraid people were of him.

“I’m perfectly safe ma’am, he’s my friend.” She nods slowly, seemingly satisfied with your answer as you hold up a particularly revealing piece. A satiny green two piece set. They could probably pass as pajamas if the bottoms weren’t practically just panties. You put it over your arm as you look for something a little more racy. “Is this everything?” You turn to look at her again.

“No miss, but we don’t bring out what I think you’re looking for until after sundown.”

Oh. That’s why you weren’t staying for the Lunar Market.

“Ah, okay. I’ll be sure to come back for that at some point. Thank you so much for being so accommodating” You hand her half of your remaining credits and her jaw is practically on the floor as you make a swift exit, shoving the clothes into your bag. Finding Mando just outside. He’s in nearly the same position except now he has a small bag in his hands. You pay it no mind as you go to take his arm.

But you miss it completely as someone grabs your other arm pulling you in the opposite direction.

“I haven’t seen you around here before, are you new in town?” It’s a human man with long black hair, he’s got welding goggles strapped to his head. You try as gently as possible to shove him off.

“No, I’ve lived here for some time now, and I should be getting back to my friend…” You’re about to point to Mando hoping that would scare him off but the man is putting a hand around your waist and starts walking you down the street.

“Oh come on sweet thing, why don’t we just walk for a little bit, maybe you can show me what you bought from that stand.” You can hear his hot breath against your neck as he leans closer and you’re about to reach for the blade in your bag but you don’t get too because he’s already on the ground.

You don’t have anytime to realize what’s going on until it’s already happening.

“ Give me a reason to do it. ” Mando’s already on top of him, blaster pressed to the bottom of the man's jaw. His voice sends a chill down your spine, if you thought that the stern tone he used on most strangers was his bounty hunter voice you were horribly wrong. This was his bounty hunter voice. When the man didn’t respond you watched as the barrel of the blaster pushed a hair deeper into the man's skin.

You should probably unpack at some point why you find this so attractive.

Maker, would it be inappropriate to ask him to recreate this later in your chambers?

You don’t register what the man mumbles as Mando reholsters his blaster. Standing up and facing you. You do happen to catch the next words the man mutters as he gets to his feet, unlucky for him Mando catches the words as well.

“Have a good night with your whore, jackass.”

The crack of the punch is so loud, you’re absolutely certain that Mando broke his jaw. The man drops to the ground in an instant and your Beskar companion simply shakes his hand out once before offering you his arm again. You take it as you try to avoid looking at the crumpled body of the man.

Stars, you don’t know if you’ve ever been this attracted to someone.

As a friend. Obviously.

“You get everything you need?” He says as he starts backtracking you down the market street. He’s alarmingly casual.

“Yes. I’m ready to go now.” You give him a nervous smile as you walk, trying to enjoy the sun setting on everything.

It’s hard not to talk about it.

But it’s probably for the best all things considered, if you start reliving that memory, who knows how long you’ll be able to resist dragging the Mandalorian into an alley and getting on your knees.

On your way out you tell him you want to stop and grab some things for dinner, if he notices you buying more food than you could possibly eat he doesn’t mention it. He doesn’t even say anything when you make him carry it. It’s a quick ride back to the castle and you can feel the exhaustion taking its toll as he walks you up to your chambers. Leo is waiting for you in the hall to take your tracker bands, Mando mumbles something about losing his but you pay him no mind as you hand Leo yours, telling him to inform the girls that you won’t need them, they can have the night off, and with that he departs. Mando helps you into your room and helps you set your things onto the bed.

“Did you have a good day?” He’s gentle again. Nothing like his tone when you were in public. It makes you smile, like he saves it just for you.

“I did. Thank you, for everything.”

“So you aren’t stressed?” He doesn’t look up, he’s setting a few of the bowls you’d bought out on the bed.

“No not at all, why? If you’re worried about the guy, don’t be I didn’t even have a second to process what was happening…” Your voice trails off as you realize why he was asking.

You idiot.

This is Purely Stress Relief.

Your rule.

You want to take it back immediately but he’s already standing up straighter, and you know you’ve already missed your chance.

“Do you need anything else or should I leave?” He says it with the same tone of disappointment that you currently feel.

Damn it.

You stupid, stupid woman, less than an hour ago you were gonna jump his bones in the street and now that you’ve got him alone you just blew your chance to… well, blow him .

Whatever. It’s for the best. It would be weird to have a really great day out together and then come home and have sex anyway. That’s something a couple would do. And that’s not what this arrangement is. But you can’t let him leave without executing your master plan.

You start opening the food containers and scoop half of everything into the bowls, sealing all of them before rummaging through your bag for one of the little cakes, setting it on top of the three sealed bowls, stacking them.

“Here.” You hold it all out to him and he just stands there for a moment.

“You don’t have to-” The voice that comes out of the filter almost sounds small.

“I know I don’t have to. Now take it, I’m ordering you to go home and eat actual food.” You shove it into his arms and he starts carefully tucking it into his bag.

“You don’t have the authority to order me to do anyth-”

“Shut up. For once, about that.” You give him a stern look and you both stand awkwardly across from each other. You aren’t really sure what he’s waiting for but finally he reaches into his satchel and hands you the small bag he had been holding earlier.

“I bought this for you earlier while you were trying on clothes. It made me think of you.” He doesn’t even give you a second to say thank you before he’s out of the room, closing the door gently behind him. You stand there dumbfounded for a moment before you open the bag, looking down at the contents.

You reach in and hold the necklace in front of your face so you can get a good look.

It’s a simple leather cord but what really catches your eye is the tiny charm. It’s a little silver outline of a flower hanging from the band. A little flower.

Sarad’ika.

You’re glad he didn’t linger to watch you open it because you have to hold back tears.

Even though he didn’t stay you can’t help but smile as you started nodding off. Closing the food containers before grabbing a few things, retreating to the closet. You lay down in your nest of blankets, setting your book down next to you as you stare down at the charm in the palm of your hand. You don’t think you ever had a day this fun even back on Hoth. No one had ever put this much thought into a gift for you. No one had ever defended you like that before either, he had even drunk what you offered him… Your fingers played with the small silver charm as you carefully tucked the necklace between the pages of The Smitten Paladin.

It was probably the most lovely day you’d ever had.

A specific scrawled line of text catches your eyes as they dart to the rules scrawled against the back inside cover and you slam the book shut, shoving it into your pillowcase for safekeeping.

No Romance.

Fuck.

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

#lincolndjarin #the mandalorian #best kept secret #bks #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #RE UPLOAD #mandalorian smut #din djarin smut

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apocalypticvalraven · 6 months

Text

Delicious in Dungeon in The Kitchen

So... I was struck by the thought that I kinda wish some food nerd would go through the Dungeon Meshi dishes and analyze them and sort of give a "this is the real world thing they're making" run down.

And then I realized I'm a food nerd that can do research.

So.

We're gonna try this out, starting with Volume 1. I don't promise that I know everything about cooking. I don't promise I'll always be able to make the thing I'm looking at (I am broke, and I don't have my own kitchen). But I can at least look at a dish and figure out what they're doing and how to replicate it, at least sorta.

Dungeon Meshi Volume 1-- Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom Hot Pot

The two main components of this dish are the Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom.

Walking Mushroom

Looking at the images in the manga, Walking Mushroom seems to just... be a mushroom that can walk around. There are no organs, the interior seems pretty uniform in substance...

Like, literally, that's exactly what sliced mushrooms look like. Senshi cuts the mushroom into ~4" strips (judging by their size next to the small cabbage-like vegetable, and comparing those plants to his hand in the image of him gathering them. I am assuming dwarf hands are roughly the same size as human hands).

There's a variety of edible mushroom that is probably as close as we're going to get to the size of a Walking Mushroom, growing a cap up to 3' wide, but it seems to only grow in termite mounds in a very specific part of the African continent (please forgive my USAmerican, White education leading me to not being able to identify the specific region), so... if you can get that at all, it's probably crazy expensive (as it should be, unless you're literally getting it from the mounds or local markets yourself). Portobello or similar large culinary mushrooms are probably just fine. The Mushroom Feet are literally just mushrooms, so no worries there.

Huge Scorpion

Ok, so... there is a difference between arachnids and crustaceans. As a start, arachnids have book lungs and crustaceans have gills. Arachnid guts are different from crustacean guts, just because of environment. Hell, crustacean limbs grow differently from arachnid limbs.

That said, everything I see in Dungeon Meshi implies that, from a culinary standpoint, Huge Scorpion is a crustacean-

So, really, it's just a big lobster. Take a lobster, cut off its legs, antennae, and the tail fluke, and you're going to see something that looks pretty similar to the huge scorpion in Dungeon Meshi.

Seaweed

Next is seaweed, which... is just a thing, but also kind of an imprecise term, I think. Basically, "seaweed" just refers to any marine algae that is multicellular and macroscopic (big enough to see). Arctic Moss seems to be a real thing which refers to a couple things- the aquatic moss Calliergon giganteum and the terrestrial lichen in the genus of Cladonia, which includes Reindeer Lichen.

Reindeer lichen is edible, in a number of ways, but it's also not seaweed. So we look at Calliergon giganteum. I cannot get an answer as to whether this particular variety of moss is edible. So... fuck it, say Senshi used Reindeer Lichen, at least we know that's edible.

"Star Jelly" is... I don't know. The main result I find when googling it is that it's the sort of general term for various slimes that show up on lawns and other vegetation, etc. Which means it could be anything from amphibian spawning jelly to who the fuck knows what.

However, one thing it could be is a cyanobacteria known as Fat Choy, a commonly used "vegetable" in Chinese Cuisine:

Looks like jelly? Yep. Looks weird enough that you might imagine it comes from a star? Yep. Edible? Yes!

(I mean, maybe don't eat a ton of it, or get it from irreputable sources. At least some Fat Choy contains a toxic amino acid which may or may not have negative health effects, but I'm not a doctor, so all I'm saying is "be aware of this." It's an expensive delicacy, which means that it is a particularly lucrative target for counterfeiters, and China does not have strong, or strongly enforced, food safety laws).

The Hard Stuff

So that leaves "Invertatoes" and "Dried Slime."

Neither of which seem to have a good direct analogue to the real world. Well... sorta.

Invertatoes seems to refer to the plants. The name calls to mind potatoes, and potatoes do indeed grow in the ground and are starchy. It's probably fair to just use any kind of starchy tuber as the "invertatoes." Maybe cassava, since those are large enough that it's at least somewhat believable that "Fantasy Land Cassava" could look like that (although that doesn't fit the "these are normal plants that grow upside down" unless we're being really generous).

The problem is that it's sort of implied that the cabbage-like vegetable seen in the hot pot comes from the same plant, and everything from a potato plant other than the potato itself is toxic. They also don't look like that.

I literally don't know what those cabbage/lettuce-like leafy vegetables are. They're not seaweed, because the two varieties called out definitely don't look like that. They're not, so far as I can tell, the greens of any kind of starchy tuber--

EXCEPT.

So, I was taking one last look at tubers to see if I could find something that seemed to match, and I think Invertatoes could be likened to something similar to chicory. Particularly endives. I never knew endives were related to chicory (ie, "that thing that I'm aware is popular as a coffee substitute in the South, but I don't have much desire to try it, and I wonder if it even has caffeine..."), but, apparently, yeah. Endives are a member of the chicory genus.

So, yeah, lets say that Invertatoes are a sort of fantasy plant similar to the various members of the chicory genus. The trunk can be replicated with chicory root, and the leaves with endives.

That leaves Dried Slime. Dried Slime makes up the noodles in the hot pot, which implies that the noodles are gelatinous, and probably low in gluten. Senshi's explanation of the slime makes me want to think of it as a macro-unicellular lifeform, but... I'm not sure that's accurate.

While it's definitely not an accurate way to describe a jellyfish, I could definitely see a non-biologist describing jellyfish in a way similar to the way Senshi describes the slime. I could also see some fantasy terrestrial jellyfish thing hunting in a similar manner to the slime. Moreover, there are edible varieties of jellyfish, and they're processed in a manner very similar to what Senshi describes for processing slimes. And one way of preparing edible jellyfish is to thinly slice it into noodles.

Hot Pots

I... think this is using a very specifically Japanese sense of "hot pot" (which makes sense), because in Japan, hot pot can refer to a dish called nabemono, while in general, hot pot refers to a particular kind of dining in China where you get a pot full of boiling stock/broth and a bunch of raw ingredients, and you put the stuff you want into the broth at the table. Nabemono is more of "put a bunch of stuff in a pot, and cook it. Serve it boiling." Which is to say, it's soup.

Senshi puts the scorpion meat and mushroom into a pot on its own, and lets it start boiling-

Then, while it's boiling, he goes and finds other ingredients, coming back with the invertatoes and the slime. The two are prepared simply-

Seasoning isn't included in the ingredients, but I can understand this as a choice for presentation. We do see Senshi add something to the broth after tasting it, and I think it's fair to assume it's one of soy sauce, mirin, fish sauce, or similar. I think it's actually really interesting that we see Senshi add seasoning, but we're not told what it is-

Because... that's cooking. You can follow a recipe, but ultimately, you need to taste your cooking and make your own decisions. Senshi lets the soup cook, tastes the broth, decides it needs something, and gives it a bit of time to let the flavors meld before serving it up.

Dungeon Meshi Lobster and Mushroom Hot Pot

So, we're looking at something like this for the "Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom Hot Pot"--

Lobster- ~5 lbs or more (a 1 lb lobster yields about 4 oz of actual meat, which is a single serving), cut into large slices

Portobello- 2 mushrooms large diced, 2 left whole with the caps scored

Reindeer Lichen and Fat Choy- to taste

Chicory Roots- ~1 cup, diced

Endive greens- ~2 cups

Jellyfish, thin sliced- as much as you like

Add lobster and mushrooms to water, and allow to boil. While it comes to a boil, prepare the other ingredients, then add to the water. Let the soup come to a full boil, then reduce heat and simmer for 15 minutes to an hour (can simmer longer, but this will affect the texture of the ingredients. Longer simmering will result in more melding of flavors, but also degraded solid parts).

Taste the broth. It will likely need salt and acid, which could come in a variety of forms, such as kosher salt and lemon juice, soy sauce and mirin/rice vinegar, oyster/fish sauce, or something else. Go with your gut and your taste buds..

#Dungeon Meshi #Defictionalization #Cooking #Food #Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom Hot Pot #Lobster and Portobello Hot Pot #This actually isn't really my thing due to the mushrooms but hell #Cashapp: $ValravenApocalypse #Paypal.me/Korbl #Ko-fi.com/valravenapocalypse #If this gets 100 notes and people like it I'll do the carnivorous plant fruit tart #Delicious in Dungeon

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sgiandubh · 8 months

Text

When you do not know a thing about the issue at stake...

...perhaps it's better to remain silent.

Some of you know, others don't - and that's fine - but my main field of expertise is labor law.

I just read this in anger and disbelief:

Look, lady. I don't care who the hell you are, what you do for a living or why you felt entitled to answer those insistent questions on your side of the fandom. I suppose you are North American and have no idea of how things work on this side of the pond. It is fine: I might know what a Congress filibuster is, for example, but I'd be severely unable to judge the finer points of competence sharing between Fed and state level.

The difference between you and me?

I keep my mouth shut and/or do my own research before opening it in public.

Have you no shame to write things like: 'It was discovered clothing factories in Bulgaria and Portugal made it and how workers were exploited, mostly women, because these factories were in special economic zones in these countries exempt from EU employee rights and regulations.'

HOW DARE YOU? What strange form of illiterate entitlement possessed you to utter such things with confidence, comfortably hidden behind a passive voice ('it was discovered')?

Portugal joined the EU in 1986. Bulgaria (and my country) joined the EU in 2007. I have given 5 relentless years of my life to make this collective political project a reality, along with hundreds of other people my age who chose to come back home from the West and put their skills to good use for their country. In doing so, I rejected more than 10 excellent corporate job offers in France and China. To see you come along and write such enormities is like having you spit in my face.

Article 4 of the Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union (aka The Treaty of Rome) is formal and clear, as far as competence sharing between the EU and its Member States goes (the UK was still, back then, a full member of the EU - it quit on February 1st 2020):

That means that ALL the EU regulations are being integrated into the national legislation of the Member States. This is not a copy/paste process, however. And because it is a shared competence area, the Member States have a larger margin of appreciation into making the EU rules a part of their own. While exceptions or delays in this process can be and are negotiated, the core principles are NEVER touched.

Read it one hundred times, madam, maybe you'll learn something today:

THERE ARE NO SPECIAL ECONOMIC ZONES IN THE EUROPEAN UNION. THE WHOLE FUCKING EUROPEAN UNION IS A SPECIAL ECONOMIC ZONE, THIS IS WHY IT IS CALLED THE SINGLE MARKET.

What the fuck do you think we are, Guangzhou? We'd wish, seeing the growth statistics!

Now, for the textile industry sector and particularly with regard to the Bulgarian market, a case very similar to my own country. Starting around 1965, many big European textile players realized the competitive advantage of using the lower paid, readily available Eastern European workforce. In order to be able to do business with all those dour Communist regimes, the solution was simple and easy to find: toll manufacturing.

It worked (and still does!) like this:

The foreign partner brings its own designs, textiles and know-how into the mix - or more simply put, it outsources all these activities. The locals transform it into the finished product, using their own workforce. The result is then re-exported to the foreign partner, who labels it and sells it. In doing so, he has the legal obligation to include provenance on the label ('made in Romania', 'made in Indonesia', 'made in Bulgaria' - you name it).

The reason you might find less and less of those 'made in ' labels nowadays at Primark and more and more at Barbour, Moncler and the such is the constant raise of the workers' wages in Eastern Europe since 1990 (things happened there, in 1989, maybe you remember?). We are not competitive anymore for midrange prêt-à-porter - China (Shein, anyone?), Cambodia and Mexico do come to mind as better suppliers. To speak about 'exploited female labourers in rickety old factories' is an insult and a lie. They weren't exploited back in the Eighties, as they are not now (workers in those factories were and still are easily paid about 50% more than all the rest) and the factories being modernized and constantly updated was always a mandatory clause in any contract of the sort. Normal people in our countries rarely or ever saw those clothes. You had to either be lucky enough for a semi-confidential store release or bribe someone working there and willing to take the risk, in order to be able to buy the rejected models on the local market.

If I understood correctly, you place this critical episode at the launch of the limited SRH & Barbour collection, for the fall of 2018. How convenient for you, who (I am told by trusted people) were one of the most vocal critics of S during Hawaii 2.0!

And as far as Barbour goes, it never pretended to manufacture everything in the UK only:

This information is absolutely true. You can read the whole statement, signed in October 2017 by one of their Directors, Ian Sime, here: https://www.barbour.com/us/media/wysiwyg/PDF/Ethical_Statement_October_2017.pdf

And a snapshot for you:

Oh, and: SEDEX is a behemoth in its world, with more than 75.000 companies joining as a member (https://www.sedex.com/become-a-member/meet-our-customers/). Big corporations like TESCO, Dupont, Nestle, Sainsbury's or Unilever included.

I am not Bulgarian, but I know all of this way better than you'll probably ever do. The same type of contracts were common all over Eastern Europe: Romania, Poland, the GDR (that's East Berlin and co, for you) and even the Soviet Union. I am also sure your Portuguese readers will be thrilled to see themselves qualified by a patronizing North American as labor exploiters living in a third-world country with rickety factories.

You people have no shame and never did. But you just proved with trooping colors you also have no culture and no integrity. More reasons to not regret my unapologetic fandom choice.

I expect an angry and very, very vulgar answer to this, even if I chose to not include your name/handle. The stench of your irrelevance crossed an ocean.

#fandom #shitshow

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lol-jackles · 3 months

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You do know that FBBC are still heavily producing and distributing beer, right? Before you start patting yourself on the back that the original brewery/land is being sold, you might want to get clued into the fact that distribution has been expanded to San Antonio and recently to Houston. The company and brand are positioning themselves to expand further. Don't think they will go back to the cute craft brewery, but as you have pointed out, craft breweries are not that profitable. Looks like they are going for a stronger business model.

You go on about the whole YANA thing. I have never understood why a select few in the fandom actually became jealous about a charity? Seems so small minded and petty. Regardless, YANA still exists and continues to do good things.

Yes I know about their distribution, I'm the one who pointed out 5 years ago all those bottling and canning equipment and the end products weren't for the taproom customers but meant for distribution because the Ackles were trying to go big because they want to make actual profit despite originally claiming that they would only sell beer at the brewery (X).

What did you think the $1000 membership package was about? To get SPN fans to regularly go to FBBC to keep it afloat so they can keep making beer on site and then ship off site. Quite a turnaround when Gino cast dispersion toward SPN fans and said there will be no beer named after a "corny tv show" (X)

According to Gino, they plan to resume producing their own beer again once they find a location in Austin.

After they bought these top on the line brewing equipment and are now selling. That sounds like a "stronger business model" to you?

Surely you don't think the Ackles are going to sell off all the brewery equipment only to turn around and buy new equipment for the alleged 2nd location? At best they should just open a small scale taproom and put Gino in there as the glorified bar tender.

Do you know people who had their beer made by somebody else? I have. They have to pay for everything, or make compromises. There is no in between. A specific yeast strain the contractors don't use? Then you're going to have to pay for that, and the labor to keep it going, or do it yourself. Oh wait, they can't because they closed down FBBC.

Breweries don't close because they'll make more money from contract breweries, if that's the case then why open your own brewery in the first place?

Let me break it down using another real life example:

If parents have a couple of kids going to the same college and overlap each other, instead of paying dorm fees or renting an apartment, they would buy a townhouse for their child/ren and rent out rooms to other students, which pays for the mortgage. Then when the last child graduates, they sell the house for a profit.

See the difference between owning a brewery that doubles as a contract brewery (your house) vs paying everything to a contract brewery (college)?

What's going on is there is a saturation of craft breweries. It's like in the late 90s when there was a huge surge in openings of comic shops. Every collector dreamed of running his own place and thought a love for the product was enough to be successful. The market became saturated. A couple years later, the trend reversed and it seemed another shop was closing every other week. The difference in making it or not largely rested on whether the owner had the skill set to run a business. Foresight. Customer relations. General business principles. And of course, the ones who had adequate funding. The market decided who made it and who didn’t.

That's what is going on in the current beer industry. The hobbyists who thought they could be successful because they loved brewing but lacked the skill set to run a business are beginning to fall.

LOL nobody is jealous of YANA, people continue to be amused by it because of how badly it was executed and then failed. If YANA still exist and continues to do good thing, it's only because Jared bailed it out after both Misha and Jensen abandoned the public promise as mentioned here and here.

I remember back in my day a craft beer was “hey there’s a beer that’s $3.50 a bottle instead of $2 and it’s way better!”

Nowadays it’s “this craft beer is sourced with water collected from the Himalayas by free range howler monkeys and filtered through the wings of butterflies. Oh and we can’t bother to be original so it’s an IPA loaded with hops. $8 please”.

#fbbc

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makethatelevenrings · 1 year

Text

Somewhere Only We Know - THREE

Chapter Warnings: swearing, spoilers for 2x02

series masterlist

You were so engrossed in searching for an audio for this TikTok that when a knock sounded on your door, you nearly launched your phone in surprise. A guy with a young face and big brown eyes peeked around your door and let out a quiet greeting.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.

“No, no. No scaring at all,” you exclaimed. “You must be Colin Hughes.”

He was the first player on your list to meet with to discuss social media plans. Keeley helped you set up an online calendar that she sent out to every player with your information and the instructions to pick out a meeting time. Most players opted to do it before or after training which meant you had a few hours of work in between meeting with everyone.

“Come in,” you said. “I know you all are on strict diets but I baked these yesterday. It won’t break my heart if you can’t have one, that just leaves more for me and Keeley.”

A tray of cupcakes sat on the table next to your desk. You had baked them in a flurry of inspiration last night. A mixture of vanilla and chocolate cupcakes, you piped on green frosting and then black and white frosting to represent the ball. It was cute, in your opinion, but you hadn’t posted anything until after the players saw them so you could know if it was embarrassing or not.

“Oh, wicked,” Colin exclaimed. He took a vanilla cupcake and then settled himself in the plush office chair on the other side of your desk. “These are fucking amazing.”

“Thank you. Now, this doesn’t have to be a super formal conversation, y’know? I took a gander at everyone’s profiles and saw that you’re really passionate about Welsh independence.”

“Is that an issue?” He looked a bit sheepish and you shook your head.

“Nah, if anything it makes you more personable. My only issue would be if you’re a fascist fuck, but I don’t think that’s part of Plaid Cymru’s platform, right?”

A grin grew on his face and you laughed. “Listen, Hughes, I might be a social media manager, but I’m not dumb.”

“Didn’t think you were but it’s nice to know for sure.” His phone buzzed and he glanced down at it, the corners of his lips tugging down into a frown. You immediately caught onto his attitude shift and titled your head to the side.

“Something wrong?” you asked. He shrugged and pocketed his phone before crossing his arms over his chest.

“Nah, just some stuff with the team.”

“And my job is to know what’s going on with the team,” you pointed out. “So spill.”

Colin sighed and pulled his phone out once more. He pulled something up on the screen and then passed it over to you. A photo of Coach Lasso seated with the one and only Jamie Tartt was on the screen. Oh. Was Lasso asking him back on the team?

“When Tartt was last year, he was a right fucking tart. I wanted to be liked so I went along with it sometimes, but he was a knob to me too. I like coach, but I don’t know what he’s thinking.”

You handed his phone back to him and shrugged. “Just because he might be coming back doesn’t mean you have to act any differently. If you were a knob, I’d have called you out the second you walked into my office. Are you really going to let one guy ruin the person you’ve become?”

He considered your words for a moment and then nodded. “Thanks, yeah. I guess I needed to hear that.”

Sitting back with a victorious smile on your lips, you turned your attention back to your desktop which had his Instagram pulled up. “Now, let’s talk about your social media presence. You post frequently and have great engagement with fans, which is perfect. Keeley gave me the list of desired sponsorships so while she puts pressure on their marketing teams, I’m going to come up with a plan to make your accounts appeal to their brand. How does that sound?”

“Good, good. Can you show me how to do reels? Isaac said mine look like shit.”

“Bold words for a man who livetweets every episode of Bridgerton.”

Two days later, you found yourself bundling up in AFC Richmond gear thanks to the bitterly cold temperatures outside. Of course, today was the day you started photographing practice for social media. While Keeley sat inside the warm offices, you were forced into going outside. The blonde promised hot cocoa when you returned, ordered on the company card, so you readily agreed to freezing your nose off. Maybe the cold would help you stay awake too.

What had started as a night of planning out your next round of posts and recipes turned into cyberstalking Jamie Tartt. There were pages dedicated to fans ooing and ahhing over his skills on and off the field. Yet every single interview you saw of his showed just how truly egotistical the man was. It seemed as though he was incapable of discussing anything other than himself, whether it was boasting about his soccer skills or how he pulls women.

You had to admit that his soccer skills were pretty fucking good, even based on your limited knowledge of the game. One video of Jamie Tartt’s best plays turned into two and then it was one in the morning and you needed to be up at seven. Fuck.

That’s how you found yourself here, in the tunnel leading out to the Racetrack. Your breath puffed out in visible clouds against the frosty winter air and you grimaced. This was going to be the longest two hours of your life.

“Ah, fuck,” you murmured as you tried to remove the cap from your camera lens. The bright AFC Richmond blue and red gloves that Higgins gave you were incredibly warm, but the fleece made it hard to maneuver things. The cap popped off and promptly fell to the ground, landing at your feet.

“Fucking fabulous,” you huffed. You bent down to grab it but a hand already enclosed around the small piece of plastic. Standing back up to your full height, you came face to face with the one and only Jamie Tartt. He extended the cap towards you and you grasped it, feeling the warmth he emanated through your gloves.

“Thanks,” you said shortly. “Back at it, then? Good luck.”

“I don’t need luck,” he replied, almost as if it were a reflex. You raised an eyebrow at his conceited response and shrugged.

“Alright then, choke for all I care.”

With that, you glided past Jamie and out onto the turf to start taking photos. You had no time or energy to worry about him and his ego. The sooner you got all the photos you needed, the sooner you could get into the warm stadium once more.

Tag List: @shiptheship @teigo-the-explorer @geeksareunique @queenofthekill @actuallybarb @for-fucks-sake-im-alive @maggiecc @alipap3

#jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt series #jamie tartt fanfic #ted lasso fanfic #somewhereverse #jamie tartt x reader

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luckbealincoln · 1 year

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter eight : solar markets

THIS SERIES HAS BEEN MOVED AND RE-UPLOADED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT. WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE. THIS POST STILL EXISTS AS AN ARCHIVE BUT THIS ACCOUNT IS NO LONGER ACTIVE!!