#or i could do what i did thr last time i played something actually approaching a bullet hell

[spitblaze]

Not that Returnal is bad per se but I see the words 'roguelike bullet hell soulslike co-op' to describe a single game and my eyes glaze over

[privatehousesanatomy]

House X /maybe fem?)Reader where House falls in love with a singer he just cured. Maybe while checking if she can sing again and he plays the piano while she sings or something? I think that could be a cute one, because everytime I see House making Music, he seems so...emotional and vulnerable. :3

ONE MORE SONG - gregory house x fem!reader

this is a cute idea! i hope i was able to bring your vision to life <3 also, thanks so much for being my first request, i had a lot of fun writing this!

slight fluff ( it is house, after all )

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

you'd heard about vocal chord injuries all the time. singers strained their voices too hard during performances, especially as they got older, but you were still young. you did everything you could to protect your voice, and yet during rehearsal you found yourself unable to make a sound. at first you thought maybe you were coming down with something, but when a week passed and you had no other symptoms besides no voice, you decided to seek medical help.

there wasn't a single doctor who was able to help you. they ruled out everything from strep to laryngitis, and you even had tests done to rule out cancer. everything came back clean. you were suddenly deemed a medical mystery with no voice.

your symptoms began progressing shortly after that. you were having difficulties breathing and swallowing, and any last remnants of your voice that you might have had were slowly diminishing as well.

princeton-plainsboro teaching hospital was your last ditch effort in figuring out what was wrong with you. doctor gregory house claimed to be one of the best diagnosticians in the country, if not the world, so you were putting a lot of faith in him to figure out what was wrong with you. you were warned right from the jump that you likely wouldn't meet the man in charge of your medical file, and it was something you came to terms with. however, he surprised everyone by taking a major interest in you as a patient rather than you as a puzzle. music was a hobby of his, and it wasn't often that his patients shared that hobby.

the first time you met house, you weren't sure how to feel. he was this grumpy, older man who walked with a cane and looked to be the epitome of the word "miserable". he was sarcastic and rude, not giving a damn about how he treated his employees, nurses, or even you. and yet there was something about him that you couldn't get enough of. almost as if you could see through the facade he put up.

your diagnosis was bilateral vocal cord paralysis, though you were lucky that it didn't kill you. there were a few close calls, but they were able to reverse the paralysis with surgery, and for the last year, you've been going to voice therapy to strengthen your vocal cords and improve your breath control while speaking. you were doing amazing, and on the one year anniversary of your surgery, you actually had a follow up appointment with house's team. it was rare that they followed up with patients, but it was also rare for house to have taken such an interest in the case.

"house, where did you get a piano?" doctor cameron asked as she watched her boss suddenly wheeling a piano into the office.

"don't ask," house replied, pushing it into the middle of the room and getting it set up. he then turned to you. "come here."

"what for?" you asked, very confused as to what he was doing.

"for a sandwich," he rolled his eyes. "obviously i want to make sure your vocal cords are healing properly," he added. so, despite your apprehension about his methods, you approached the piano and sat down on the little bench. house sat down beside you. "you think you can still sing?" he asked.

"i don't know...i haven't really tried," you admitted.

"well, you're going to now," house said, starting to play the tune of one of your songs on thr piano. he'd really gone as far as to look into your music and pick one of your songs.

despite being nervous, you started to sing the words, and you quickly realized that it wasn't as hard as you thought it would be. sure, it didn't sound near as perfect as it used to, but considering you'd gone through bilateral vocal cord paralysis and survived, it sounded pretty damn good. you couldn't help but notice that house was really getting into it, and you could have sworn you saw a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

you two had become rather...close during your time in his care a year ago. you two bonded over your shared love for music, and during that time you really got to see a different side of the man he presented himself to be. in fact, it wouldn't be a stretch of the imagination to say that you two even developed feelings for each other, but unfortunately nothing ever came of it. when you were discharged from the hospital, you were also discharged out of his life, and over the last year, house couldn't stop thinking about you. that was why he scheduled this "follow up" appointment with you. he never saw his patients after they were out of his care, but he realized that if he wanted a chance, he was going to have to take it now.

when the song ended, he glanced at you before the rest of his team, now shooing them out of the office to make themselves useful either within the clinic or with their current medical mystery. it was really just a ploy to get a moment alone with you, and once you two were alone, he turned his attention back to you. god, you could get lost staring into those bright blue eyes of his, and he seemed to pick up on that.

"what?" he asked, breaking the silence between the two of you.

"oh...nothing," you replied, feeling a little flustered. his eyes flickered down to your lips, and he drew in a deep breath.

"you know, i don't ever follow up with my patients," he told you.

"you don't?" you asked, and he shook his head. "then why me?"

"because i haven't been able to stop thinking about you since you walked out of this hospital," he admitted.

"oh come on...i couldn't have been that special," you replied, raising an eyebrow.

"i've never...i've never connected with a patient like this. i've never felt like this before," house said. you were quiet for a minute, trying to process what he was saying.

"would it be wrong for me to say that i feel the same about you?" you ask finally, and there was that little smile of his trying not to show itself again. he didn't speak, but instead leaned his head in and pressed his lips against yours. you could have melted against his lips, and you were surprised at how well they fit together. after a few moments, though, you pulled away to breathe.

"i feel like we're breaking so many rules right now," you laugh, and house finally cracked a real smile.

"it's what i do best," he said, pulling you in for another kiss.

[dragonmasterkaylz]

Wife of Poseidon

WARNING: Contains Smut, Rape & Brutal Murder. If you are sensitive to these topics or under the age of 18, don’t read. Also, if my interpretation of Poseidon is a little off, I do apologise. And he is a little (very) yandere in this. This also contains a character of my own making… so if you don’t like that, don’t read it.

Within Poseidon’s Palace, lives a beautiful woman with gorgeous blue hair that almost sparkled in the light. Her eyes matched the blue of the ocean and her body was so voluptuous, only wearing a white bodysuit with golden accents and pale blue jewels on her collar and her hips. Along with gloves and matching stockings, a sheer blue material connecting her outfit together and trailing behind her. Her name is Aquamarie and she was Poseidon’s Queen.

She was beyond beautiful in Poseidon’s eyes and the perfect Queen for him due to her Humility and Kindness. And no one was allowed to look directly at his Queen unless they wanted their head to leave their shoulders. The God wasn’t necessarily worried that another man would steal his Queen from him, especially since she had already pledged her loyalty to him and loved him unconditionally. He just didn’t want his beautiful wife to be tainted with another ones gaze, especially from his servants.

She walked down the Palace, and into the Throne Room, only to find a bunch of dead servants and her angry husband. ‘Oh dear! Isn’t it too early for this?! I only just woke up!!!’ She ran over to him and asked, “What happened?!!” He looked at his wife and gently stroked her cheek, making her blush and smile under his gentle touch. “They were tainting you with their with words of lust and perversion, thinking I wouldn’t hear them. Anyone who thinks like that about you must be taken out… no questions asked. Now, let’s leave… I wouldn’t want their blood to taint your loveliness”, he told her.

The other Gods believed that Poseidon was actually using Aquamarie more as his property than his actual wife. But the truth was far sweeter. She is the only woman that understands him, the only woman to love him for the brutal God he is, and the only woman he could love. Which is exactly the reason why he wouldn’t want anyone to taint her with their disgusting words, touch or even sight. This was just in his nature, to keep his wife from experiencing anything he deemed unworthy of her.

“Poseidon… you really must stop killing our servants though, or else you won’t have any left. Next time, just try throwing them in the dungeon”, she suggested. He hummed and asked, “Do you disagree with my methods?” She sighed and gently placed her hands on his chest before saying, “Of course not. But you should think about this logically. You cannot always resort to violence when things start to displease you.” He hummed and walked past her before saying, “You know I cannot do that my love. There are reasons for my titles, and I cannot throw that away by suddenly becoming merciful.”

Aquamarie stood next to him in silence and he looked at her before suddenly stopping in his tracks. “Hm…?” She stopped and turned back to look at him. His stance was almost as solid as rock, but she giggled when she saw the softness in his eyes… as well as the slight blush in his cheeks. She placed her arms around him and then kissed him gently. Poseidon closed his eyes and kissed her back, making every servant watch. He only had one weakness and that was the beautiful woman in his arms. No one would think that ‘The Most Fearsome God’ had a soft side and that’s because only his wife saw it. If anyone else did… they were killed.

“I’m sorry… I should’ve kissed you as soon as I saw you”, she said with blush coating her cheeks. He then whispered in her ear, “That’s going to cost you later, my beloved.” Then he held her hand and walked to the meeting room, where many other Olympian Gods and Goddesses were. Hermes bowed respectfully in their presence and then said, “Lady Aquamarie, I have tea and cakes laid out for you.” She smiled happily and said, “Thank you Hermes~!” And then she took her seat next to her husband before looking happily at her spread. “I see that your wife has a sweet tooth, brother!”, Zeus said with a smirk. “Hmph.” “Silent as ever I see.”

After the meeting was over, Poseidon walked out with his wife, who was still eating cake. “Hmm~, delicious~!” He looked at her and sighed before grabbing her chin, making her look at him. “You’re a messy eater…”, he said to her before licking her chin and then her lips. She blushed heavily and finished eating, before looking up at him. “Hm… not my first choice. But it’s not bad either”, he said to her before walking away. “H-Hey…! You can’t just do something like that and then walk away as if nothing happened!”, she protested. He chuckled at the claim she was making and then said, “Don’t dawdle then… come here if you want me to pleasure you but also punish you for not kissing me as soon as you woke up.”

Hours later, in the bedroom, Poseidon had his wife begging for mercy under his surprisingly gentle touch. He had already cum inside of her multiple times but he didn’t let her cum once, overstimulating her. Aquamarie begged and begged as he trusted into her while playing with her clit, making her scream out. He smirked and kissed her neck as he used his other hand to squeeze her breast. “M-My Lord… Poseidon~…! I’m begging you…!!! It won’t happen again…!!! Let me cum~…!!!”, she begged as she leaned her head back on his shoulder. Poseidon loved the fact that his wife was a masochist, but even he knew that she had her limits. She tried to stop herself, but she started to squirt into his hand. He smirked and whispered, “Don’t you dare… not until I finish inside of you again, my dearest.”

She screamed as she was put onto her hands and knees. He spanked her a few times, making sure red marks were present on her. Then he held her hips pretty hard, hoping bruises would form on her beautiful body. He leaned down and kissed her skin, leaving more and more markings on her. He wanted the entire world to know that she belonged to him and only him. She was his Queen, his Wife, his beloved and hopefully one day… the Mother of his children. “I want to breed you…”, he confessed. “Then please… breed me. I want your children~”, she responded before turning around so she could look at him. He kissed her and then said, “Cum with me, my love.” Poseidon grunted as he felt himself cum inside of her once more, but that was nothing compared to her screaming as she came. “POSEIDON~!!!”

Aquamarie fell on their bed as he pulled out of her and gently pulled her into his arms, kissing her head. A giggle escaped her lips and she kissed his cheek. “That was mean.” He smirked and then kissed her properly before saying, “But you deserved divine punishment for not kissing me this morning.” She cupped his cheeks and brought him down for another kiss, wrapping her arms around him. “Hmm… don’t tempt me to fuck you again.” “Hehe~. I won’t… I don’t think my hips can handle it…”, she replied. Poseidon rested her upon their bed and kissed her cheek. “Rest up, my love.” “I will.” As he exited the room, fully clothed, a few servants wanted to exact revenge on the God for his ruthless nature.

Poseidon sat on his throne, looking as bored as ever. His wife was sleeping, there were no more meetings for the day, so he felt as though he could just fall asleep then and there. He closed his eyes and smiled as he thought about his beloved Queen and their future children. But that was interrupted by Aquamarie’s scream. His eyes widened and he grabbed his Trident before heading straight to his bedroom, only to see a few of Aquamarie’s maids outside, attempting to get in. “Stand back!”, he ordered. Once they were out of the way, he kicked the door down, taking it off its hinges and walked in.

His eyes widened at what he saw. Three of his servants having their way with his defenceless wife. Her eyes almost had no colour in them as they fucked her from behind, fucked her mouth and took pleasure in the sight of Poseidon’s wife being violated by them. “You filthy bastards…!”, he said, his voice filled with rage as he pulled the one watching away from her and skewered him with his Trident, not killing him though. He then pointed the bloody Trident at the other two and shouted, “Get your filthy cocks away from my wife, this instant!!!” His orders were clear, but they were ignored.

Aquamarie then screamed as one of them grabbed her hair, pushing himself further inside, hurting her. Tears ran down her cheeks, which was the last straw for him. He grabbed the one violating her mouth and threw him against the wall, knocking him out. “I’m sorry my dear…”. And finally used the end of his Trident to push the other against the headboard, knocking him out as well. His wife then crawled up to him and hugged him. “I-I’m sorry…!!!” “Don’t you dare apologise… they’ll be receiving the worst punishment possible for this”, he whispered back to her. “Maids! Take care of my Queen and clean her up!” They obeyed immediately and two of them helped her stand up before placing a robe around her.

While the servants were being tortured, the maids cleaned her up, and then got her to rest in a hot spring just after her bath. “Is that all, my lady?”, one of them asked. “Yes… please tell Poseidon where I am. I want to see him.” “Of course. Please have a lovely rest”, the maid said before leaving. Tears ran down the Queens cheeks and she cried into her hands, as she felt as if she had betrayed her own husband. The maid walked down into the dungeons and approached Poseidon, bowing in the process. “My Lord… Queen Aquamarie would like to see you in the hot springs as soon as possible.” “Alright…”.

The Tyrant of the Seas was covered in blood, looking at the three servants who violated his beloved wife. They weren’t so much as allowed to look at her, so the crime they committed deserved a fate worse than death. “Call Hades and make sure these three are tortured in the Underworld for all eternity”, Poseidon said as he walked away. “Yes, my Lord.” The God showered himself and washed away the blood before heading towards the Hot Spring, which he only had in his Palace since Aquamarie loved the ones in Japan. He wasn’t too fond of humans, if anything he hated them. But he tolerated their customs, especially if his wife did.

Poseidon wasn’t surprised to see his wife crying on the side of the hot spring. He got in the water alongside her and gently pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry…! I’m sorry!” He rubbed her back and said, “I told you not to apologise. You were asleep, tired and sore. They used that to their advantage… but I can assure you, that they’ve been punished for their actions.” She nodded, but that did not stop her from crying her heart out. Unlike most Gods and Goddesses, she did not have a heart of steel and was very gentle. He kissed her and placed a hand over heart, as if he wanted to heal it. “Hey… you’re still having my children”, he reminded her. She giggled and said, “Yes… Yes I am~.”

END

[alderaani]

more than gold

summary:  A lost Jedi Temple, a riddle, some literature, and feelings that Cody isn't ready to speak out loud. | AO3

note: written for @codywanweek and the alt day 5 prompt Sith/Jedi Artefact Shenanigans! sliding in on the last day with one more thing written than expected, so i’m happy with that! i’m pretty ill today so i hope it actually makes some coherent sense 😂 also if the riddle was super obvious, soz, never written one before and turns out it’s really hard.

-

“You know, I could have sworn I told you not to touch that,” Cody says conversationally, from where he’s splayed out on his back.

“Really? I’m sure I didn’t hear you,” Obi-Wan says, cheerful despite being crumpled in a heap. His elbow is in Cody’s gut. Cody glares at him.

The room they’re lying in is circular, stone, carved out of some Forced-damned mountain and according to Obi-wan, practically thrumming with power. The ceiling is high and vaulted, letting in slivers of light where intricate mirror systems catch the sunlight of double suns and project it deep underground. It takes on a slightly blue cast, reflecting off the huge pool of water they were lucky to not fall into. Four walkways at each cardinal point lead to a central platform, and interspersed between them are four waterfalls.

It should be serene. Except now the waterfalls are travelling backwards, and all the doors, including the one they came in by, are blocked. Cody scrambles up onto his elbows, dislodging Obi-Wan with a grunt.

“What did you do?”

Obi-Wan follows his gaze and gasps, delighted. “Now, will you look at that?”

Cody is looking. Frankly, he doesn’t trust this place enough to not keep his eye on it at all times. Obi-Wan keeps saying that this temple was built long ago, by ancient, peaceful Jedi as a place of learning, and that it won’t hurt them. After they got cut off from the rest of their men at the entrance, however, Cody thinks he could be forgiven for having his doubts.

As Obi-Wan himself proves, peace-keeping hardly rules out danger.

“Amazing,” Obi-Wan breathes, hoisting himself to his feet without a second glance, to walk back up to the plinth and stalk round it, examining the incomprehensible runes engraved there.

Cody is left to peel himself off the floor, and instead goes to prod at the barriers now sealing the exits with the end of his blaster. He tries not to look too much at Obi-Wan, at the soft sweep of his hair and the span of his shoulders. Being on their own like this is something he’s avoided, of late - not because he doesn’t enjoy it, but because he’s starting to enjoy it all too much.

He doesn’t trust the way his heart leaps when Obi-Wan smiles, when he asks him to call him ‘Obi-Wan’, when the cycle draws on and they’re up late again, companionably finishing reports and debating strategy. Or, as they had been doing until Cody got cold feet and started finding excuses, debating novels, which Obi-Wan checked out of the Temple archives and read aloud, one chapter at a time, before they turned in for the night.

He doesn’t trust himself not to ruin this by overstepping. There’s something about his general that makes him lose all control of his tongue, and puts him in danger of voicing thoughts that really he should not be having at all.

It’s agony. It’s bliss. It’s stretching him to breaking point, and this is possibly the worst situation they could have ended up in, really.

“These are made out of water,” he says over his shoulder, grunting as he tries to push his blaster through. He is, of course, unsuccessful.

“Ingenious,” Obi-Wan says. “How did they manage that, I wonder?”

Cody cuts a glance back at him, and grins, despite his exasperation.

“You’re not more worried about how we’re going to get out?”

Obi-Wan waves a hand. “I’m sure the path will reveal itself, in time. Oh, look - Cody, I think this is a puzzle!”

Cody bites back a groan. They do not have time for this. They never really had time for it, but Obi-Wan promised it would be a brief detour on their way to the capital for hyperspace lane access negotiations. He’d looked so excited by recon reports of a lost temple that Cody just hadn’t been able to say no. He’s never able to say no to Obi-Wan, even when he isn’t following orders. It’s probably his fatal flaw.

“I don’t suppose there’s an off switch? A back button?” He asks hopelessly. The Force, at least the Jedi sort, very rarely seems to work that way. Obi-Wan is always talking about moving through problems, about seeking balance and adapting to what’s around you, rather than manipulating it. It’s not Cody’s favoured approach; he was trained to leverage his environment to its maximum advantage, and finds he has little patience for anything else.

Obi-Wan snorts. “This is a defensive mechanism, I’m afraid. Judging by the architecture this was built at the height of the Sith Wars. This artefact is designed to trap us here until we understand the mechanism and progress, or until, back when the temple was occupied, someone would come and deal with the intruder.”

“That doesn’t sound very peaceful,” Cody says.

Obi-Wan shoots him an amused look, the warm, soft kind that makes heat rise from the pit of Cody’s belly right up to his ears.

“Even a pacifist may defend himself,” he says, then leans over the pedestal. “Now, how about you stop grousing and come help me with this?”

Cody rolls his eyes, but goes, slinging his blaster across his back and crossing his arms.

“And stop looming,” Obi-Wan laughs, catching one of Cody’s gloved hands and pulling it down to rest at his side. The simple touch makes Cody’s cheeks burn.

“Don’t see what help I can give you, Sir,” he says, frowning down at the characters surrounding the bright blue artefact. “I was never any good at Ithorian.”

Obi-Wan pauses, then tilts his head up. “Ah. Is that what it is?”

“I - I think so?” Cody was never any good at his language flashtraining; he never had the proper patience for it, but he can usually figure out the basics.

“No, no,” Obi-Wan muses, stroking at his beard with his free hand. “You’re quite right. Goodness me, it's been a long time since I last saw this dialect. Let’s see now…”

Cody steps back and waits, keeping his attention firmly split between their blocked exit points while Obi-Wan ponders. The slow upward movement of the waterfalls is eerie - it still makes noise, but none of it is right. Instead of the gentle patter he expects of water joining a larger pool, there’s a faint gurgling as they move further into each grate, travelling somewhere he cannot see.

Obi-Wan finishes his fifth circle round the platform, and the hand at his chin goes still. Cody stands at attention, expectant.

“It’s a riddle,” Obi-Wan says, and if possible, his delight grows. “Yes - the language is coming back to me now. Do you know, I haven’t looked at Ithorian in maybe 12 years?”

“Sir?” Cody says, tilting his head to look at the characters more closely. He doesn’t have even a passing proficiency at modern Ithorian, and presumably it’s changed a bit over the millennia. His training was focused on the basics, and only the useful bits, at that. He thinks he can make out the words for ‘ water ’, and ‘ enemy’ , both of which are either unhelpfully descriptive or frankly discouraging, but that’s about the extent of it.

“My old master - he loved prophecies. When I was a teenager I could never see the point of it, but it meant I spent a lot of time learning the old Ithorian dialects. They’re known as the most peaceful species, did you know?” Obi-Wan shakes his head. “They’ll exile anyone violent, it’s quite remarkable, really. I suppose in some sort of idealistic emulation, a lot of the early Jedi texts are written in their dialect.”

His blue eyes are keen, his laser sharp focus firmly on the podium. It gives Cody a moment to observe his clever fingers, the long line of his neck, the open delight with which he tackles this new problem. It’s a rare thing, to see him so relaxed, and Cody can’t help the fond smile that creeps up on him despite the circumstances. This almost makes it worth it, and on reflection, he’d rather an ancient temple than the last thing that had made Obi-Wan so happy; a wretched, bioluminescent fungus, which had infected half the battalion and given them hives. Their general had studied it for weeks.

Obi-Wan’s lips quirk up. Cody barely trusts himself to speak.

“I didn’t know, Sir,” Cody croaks, then pauses, fishing for something normal to say. “Didn’t we have to defend the governor’s daughter from an Ithorian bounty hunter on Ganaris-IV?”

“Well,” Obi-Wan grins. “Those exiles have to go somewhere, don’t they?”

Cody huffs a laugh and reaches up to scratch his neck at the seam of his bucket.

“Let’s just hope they didn’t all come here. What’s this riddle, then?”

Obi-Wan shifts to the side, then points at a spot on the podium. “As I said, it’s been a long time, but I think it starts here, and goes something like:

A thing to be forged, where water is thicker,

Worth more than gold, unless it’s pyrite that glitters.

An enemy of my enemy, or in hard times, in need,

Sometimes fair-weather, or in high places indeed.

What are you, traveller? ”

All of Cody’s hopes that it would be something nice and obvious, like “lightsaber” or, given what’s going on around them, “gravity”, escape from him like smoke. Jedi and their metaphors. It’s not just a quirk of Obi-Wan’s, clearly.

“Does that mean anything to you, Sir?” he asks, turning the words over in his head once, twice, then frowning when nothing comes immediately.

Obi-Wan’s brow is also furrowed, but in a leisurely, meditative manner.

“...I have some ideas, I think,” he says. “How about you, my friend?”

What does he think? He thinks that there are other sorts of puzzles he is much better suited to. Word play and idioms...what does a clone have to offer that?

Still, Obi-Wan is watching him, expectant and gentle, and he sifts back through the lines, a little more seriously this time.

“Ice, maybe?”

Obi-Wan nods, slowly. “Perhaps. Walk me through it.”

Cody swallows. “Ice is something that can be made, right? It’s not exactly forged, but…”

He trails off in uncertainty.

“Go on,” Obi-Wan says with another one of those soft, devastating smiles. It fractures all the thoughts in Cody’s head, and he has to stop, clear his throat and gather up all the pieces.

“I suppose...it’s just thicker water, isn’t it? On warm planets it’s a valuable commodity, it’s found in high places, and I suppose if you wanted snow, a freeze would be fair weather.”

Obi-Wan is rubbing his beard again, and he’s still smiling. “Fascinating. I would never have thought of that...only, I don’t think it’s quite there. That mention of pyrite is troublesome, and the ‘enemy of my enemy’, where does that fit in?”

Cody shrugs his shoulders, frustrated, and feels a hot flush creep up his neck. “Don’t know why you’re asking me, to be honest, Sir. Kamino hardly covered poetry.”

There’s a slight pause, then Obi-Wan’s hand is on his again, tugging it slowly down from where he’s crossed his arms.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he says, soft.

“Do what?” Cody’s voice is gruff.

“Dismiss yourself. You do it sometimes when we’re reading together. There is often no right and wrong answer to these things, no secret. There is only perspective, and you see things I never would, if only you would trust yourself.”

Cody looks down and away, back towards the waterfalls and their slow, glacial climb. He isn’t sure that’s true. He enjoys what Obi-Wan shares with him, what other lives he gets to touch in their books, but more than anything they convince him that, beyond war, he knows very little of anything at all. He would like to, someday.

His eyes land on Obi-Wan’s lips briefly, before he tears them away. Particular experiences he would like to know more than others.

There was one book that Obi-Wan had read early on, back when this infatuation was just setting its first tendrils into him, about a forbidden romance at the heart of the old Mandalorian court. Two heirs of rival clans battling to be together against the good approval of their noble relatives. It had been torrid, ridiculous and entirely unexpected when Obi-Wan had suggested they break up their reports with some literature.

But what it had done was give him the words to express the crawling heat in his stomach, the urge he has to reach out, to touch, to soothe, to care for. He’d known what he wanted before that, of course, in a more rudimentary manner, but it had gifted him the language of yearning.

Suddenly, a particular passage springs into his mind and he straightens.

“You don’t think it could mean ally, do you? In Beneath the Armour, Mata threatens Clan Riza by saying he has ‘allies in high places’.”

Obi-Wan pauses, and then a brilliant smile spreads over his face. “Yes, that’s it! Pyrite - Fool’s Gold; a false friend! Brilliant Cody, whatever made you think of that?”

Cody grins, even though Obi-Wan can’t see it, and doesn’t answer.

“Is that really it?”

“I think you’re very close,” Obi-Wan says. “The characters engraved into the platform...yes! Stand close to me, Commander.”

Cody does, watching curiously as Obi-Wan lifts his hands, shuts his eyes, frowns, and pushes . Six blocks that make up the platform lift, the characters on each glowing bright, lurid blue. Under their feet, something scrapes, shifts and clunks, before the platform lurches upwards, spinning gently.

There’s a thunderous gurgling sound, before all of the pool beneath drains away.

“The answer,” Obi-Wan says, slightly breathless, his hair a little out of place. “Was friend.”

“The doorways are still blocked,” Cody notes drily. The plinth with the blue orb that started this whole mess has also risen, and underneath it are a set of very wet, slimy looking steps. “I don’t suppose it’s as simple as just walking down these and getting in?”

“Likely not,” Obi-Wan agrees, then inexplicably shifts a little closer, so that they are sharing space. Cody’s heart skips a beat. “But it’s like I told you, Cody. You are far greater than what you have been given.”

Cody coughs and looks at his feet, at their boots almost toe to toe, pleasure at the praise singing low through his body.

“Now,” Obi-Wan says, too close and not close enough. “How do you feel about another puzzle?”

Cody groans, laughing, and after a moment, follows his General into the dark.

[billionairesitgirl]

Do you have any tips to help someone who keeps failing? I have been trying for several years now to get started and feeling more and more hopeless every year. I have attended $$$ events, lost weight, moved closer to major cities. Then of course COVID struck and made things worse. Is there something I can do that can help me gain an "in" or are certain things just not meant for some girls.

KEEP TRYING !!!

Yes i screamed it...  but that’s because thats the most important thing in succeeding.

Secondly Congrats on taking the steps and trying..... 

(THIS MIGHT MAKE MAKE YOU NEUROTIC.... If you already are then DO NOT DO THIS)

The following is also important 

1.) Have you asked your self why you keep failing?

Take a pen and paper and spend an entire day by yourself. Think, play things over in your head and Analyze.... This is probably the only time i truly suggested, over analyzing the crap out of your life, decisions, faliures and successes. 

(a) What mistakes, do you keep making? or What mistakes do you think you keep making. 

(b) what makes them mistakes 

(c) Would those actions have worked out better in something else or displayed to someone else 

(d) who and/or what would this action work on

2.) List your obstacles ... Every single one you could think of... 

Make 3 categories

 .....Obstacles you have gone through - What caused it? who caused it? (Regardless of who caused it... You owe some responsibility... so still own up to it... But remember BE KIND to yourself...) 

There is a fine line between being kind to yourself  and completely absolving yourself of any responsibility when owning up to the responsibility of things gone wrong

......Obstacles repeated - How do you NOT repeat this Again?

.......Obstacles Imagined and Obstacles that could still happen (based on different things, character flaws, finances, men’s personalities, race, looks, nature) Get as detailed as needed.  

Man plans and God unplans ... 

However, as humans we have ability to at least create contingencies... try to come up with possible contingency plan and POSSIBLE action on how to still not stand still when one of those obstacles appear... Basically figure out another way to scale through, wiggle through, swim through... whatever way (As long as there is life, health and will... there is a way.... After all people have clawed out of dungeous using only a stick or even their finger nails)

3.)  What have you tried that didnt work? or keeps failing... List it

4.) What ever #3 is that didnt work... What is the alternative that you haven’t tried. 

5.) Clearly you see this as an investment if you have lost weight, moved etc... What is missing in the picture? (I don’t know you, nor have I spent time with you or know your thinking process or views... So this is something even if you dont know what is missing... You have to sit and think... Sleep on it, give it time but remain introspective but be mindful to know when clarity presents itself. 

Being brutally Honest with yourself is the only way to know what is missing and where you are missing. 

Example: I met a gorgeous black girl A few months ago. From the get go, I knew she was hypergamous... The men also knew. But there was something missing and i couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Until we were all talking with the men present. 

She carried herself as a pretty girl, sweet and bubbly... But she made the mistake of trying to emulate the white woman’s countenance... So she could be doted on same as a white woman... I can’t explain this in detail.

But while it is good to emulate things noteworthy in other people... She lost her self and her own personal spark.  As a black woman... She avoided the pitfalls of a stereotypical black woman (quote on quote)... in the process, she mistakenly lost her goddess quality and blended in with the rest.  The men moved on from her. 

My Point is: WHAT IS MISSING... Are your run of the Mill? What is your core

6.) Standard - 

Do you have set standards? expectations of yourself and of the Men and of your surroundings?

Do you keep it? Do you up hold it or do you switch or lower it under pressure? 

Not to give too much information... I refused to live in the poor neighborhood when i moved off college campus. I lived in a condo and lived Smack in the center of the wealthy part of the city. I was not in this lifestyle then... But it was simply my standards... And even though it meant staying on campus longer till i got it... I did that.

Example 2: I have friends who do not care what hole they enter to get entertained (granted you can meet people anywhere)... But I am not the type that goes out very often... So why will i waste my few outings in some frat boys bar or club. So I go to high end places.

Example 3: I met a man who recently sold his company with upwards of $80 Million... I wasn’t told... I was aware of the process and listened to him through the proceess complain about delay in the closing and trying to avoid tax etc

He was deperate to meet me in person. As a matter of fact the day he closed. He flew me to his city (I went cause i was bored).  Long story Short... He is the type of man that got lucky... There isn’t much in terms of comparison... Thinks he knows everything, thinks himself black people’s savior and makes comments such as “If there were black women like you”...  Has some racists views he doesn’t think is racists... I met his friends... I liked one (But he just recently got remarried and was the smartest of the bunch). They had pissing games who had thr most rolex collection etc... He was crazy about me... Still is even without so much as a kiss and i spent a weekend there. (Had my own hotel room)

But, I knew while the money was there, he was generous and was crazy about me... It would drive me nuts being with him and interacting with his friends... My standard here is that I won’t deal with any man who so much as stresses me mentally especially as I am a black woman... I won’t take nonsense.

My Point is : What do you compromise on that you do? It is a long road being steadfast to your standard... But it has been worth it for me.

Do not use anyone’s standard... Create your own and work on keeping it... Men will despise you for it... But respect you all the same.... It is a weird placed to be.

7.) What type of events do you attend. When you attend events, go out etc... What do you do? How do you approach these events? Do you wing it? Do you plan it?  Are you fearless and confident or shy or just pleasant enough to exchange pleasantries alone? What vibe do you give off? 

How do you dress? Different styles can come across different ways... Some ooze Sexy, some ooze elegance with a hint of sexy, some basic, some regular, some say just another event person

8.) Closer to Major cities : what part of that do you live? Even if you are not in the center of things... Where do you go when you go out? How often to do go to wealthy areas, who do you interact with there? 

There is a plethora of questions who have to ask yourself.

With Covid I have met people (but then, I work for myself and have more freedom to move around and also take mini vacation in other cities) And I already have a network... So, I have a  leg up -  

But, I know girls here and people are also still meeting people.

What is stopping you? What avenues and methods have you tried? Have you thought outside the box? 

Hopeless? No... Wrong direction... As you fail you learn things that dont work so that should make you hopeful. 

Also, I am a big beliver in manifestation and law of attraction. Feeling hopless will only make things more hopless...It will attract more faliure...

Find ways to think more positively, ways to turn negative things into potentially positive things... In this case you do not have to be rational... Imagine everything negative happening has a positive... 

e.g  : A man cancelled on you = It wasn’t meant to be... It might have turned into a terrible situation for you... Thank God or the universe for saving you from whatever it is you arent aware of. 

eg : Covid happening : Time to make more money, invest. Brush yourself up, level up some more, learn new ways to meet this men and become more resilient so you come out fire when, the world isnt tupsy turvy

e.g : Getting older: Perfect, the more sure and certain you become in yourself, the more you actually find out what makes you stand apart, the more you find out who you are and realize that whatever amount a man was going to give you last year, you’ve outgrown it with age, maturity, acheivements etc.

You get the gist.... NEVER FEEL HOPELESS

You can feel sad... But not hopeless... Dust yourself up and try again...

Maybe one day i will take time out to share some of my own short comings and faliures... Cause i think we share the successes much more;  that people think there aren’t mistakes and faliures and short comings... I have had them, and I continue to work and fix them. 

The only thing is after my introspection... and brow beating myself and figuring it out...i don’t like to dwell on the faliures... I put my self to work updating myself. Besides I think sharing more good news brings more good news and vibes... But, there isn’t anyone that can claim to not have had obstacles and faliures.

Finally: My sister beleives everyone has a destiny... But everyone is also capable of changing theirs... 

With regards to your question...  About certain type of girls ...

The Answer is NO...

Some people might find it harder, or lack the resources and know how

But trying, pushing ones self, acquiring knowlegde and doing whatever it takes (of course within reason and comfines of morality ) Is what makes the difference.

As i write... I know women who took their entire savings to go to ST Barts for New Year...  (Would I? NO) But some would... My point is. 

You will go as far as you are capable of seeing yourself go.

So if you want a change in your pattern... You have to break the wheel... Try something new you haven’t tried yet... And a new approach. 

Question for you: “Gain an in?” Into what circle do you want an in? What type of man

#hypergamy, #datingtips #sugardatingtips #sugardatingadvice #levelup #levelupadvice #sugardatingtip #sugardating

[vegalocity]

The pieces fall (Red Groom AU)

Basically i said to myself 'I need to finish this before i get too deep with the Animorphs stuff' and then realized this was the final chapter about halfway through lmao

TW: Death, blood, 'To The Pain' is retold in its entirety

--

Red Son was out of time.

He stalled as long as he could, bought as much time to drag the official ceremony on as possible But it was for naught. He heard the commotion outside, the demons shrieking in fear the booming voice that reminded him of the mercenary in Spider Queen's Employ, Spat the tea forced into his mouth in the Prince's face, and loudly cursed and raved, insisting not only that he did not consent to this, but also that this sham of a marriage would only last for the length of time it would take for his love to arrive.

His Noodle Boy would come for him, he'd crowed and bragged with all his might, and the Prince had insisted the futility of the hope, that his love was dead, and yet more lies, that he'd seen to it himself.

But he couldn't hide the fear behind his eyes and Red Son announced as much. He couldn't move with the cuffs restraining him, his hands throbbing in pain and a solid purple color from the restriction of blood flow, but he raged and rallied anyway, he was tempted to try and ruin the fine robes the servants had forced him into, to scorch them without a care to what injuries would be laid onto himself from it, but he didn't want to be in rags when his love crashed through the doors.

But then the ceremony was finished, despite his protests, and Red Son was out of time.

He struggled against the guards as they shuffled him through the halls, followed by the weak and fading demon king, but one final ditch plan formed in his head as the halls lit with flame and he was brought to the prince's rooms.

“I suppose I should apologize, demon king.” The frail creature turned to Red Son and he felt a strange sort of pity for the man. He seemed no longer aware of what year it was let alone the cruelty of his own offspring.

“What was that young fellow?”

“I'll have to be killing your son tonight, or I'll die instead. And you were probably a kind man before this curse destroyed your body and mind, so I felt I should tell you as much.” he placed a hand on the King's arm and he hummed absently as their paths diverged.

As then the door slammed shut behind him, and Red Son's last gambit had to be played. If he was fast and he burned hot enough he could do it. It would be a struggle to work around afterward, but if he could manage it and he had Xiaotian to help him work around it he could invent something to compensate by the end of the year.

Still, to cut ones own hands off to escape bindings and then murder their fiance was certainly going to be a challenge.

–

She saw him. For just a moment she saw the Macaque, the flash of dark fur, the curl of his tail, those six ears, those cruel amber eyes. She'd said what she'd been waiting to say for ten years, she held her head high and said the phrase that had kept her going for so long.

And he'd fled.

She'd parted form the group the second he'd left, racing through the corridors, breaking through doors, and following the faint sound of fading footsteps. Finally, Finally it was happening. Today was the day. The day she'd been waiting for for ten years. The day she finally walked up to the monster that ruined her life, the bastard that stole her father from her, the macaque that took everything from her before she was even a woman, and she finally made him pay.

She descended a staircase that lead deeper into the halls and a sharp pain pierced through her gut. Xiaojiao yelped and brought a hand to her side, she saw the dark fur for only a brief moment before she stumbled back, hand clasping over the- over the blade-

he'd thrown a knife at her and it had landed in side. She didn't think it pierced anything important, but she couldn't be sure. It felt like she'd been struck by lightning in one very small localized area. Warm blood quickly soaking through her shirt and staining her hand.

It wasn't that her legs weren't working anymore, but they refused to obey her as her back hit the wall and her knees turned to jelly. She slid until her bottom brushed the stairwell behind her.

Ten years.

And she was a sitting duck. The Macaque could kill her in one swipe of that wretched spiked staff of his and she'd die a failure.

“I'm sorry father-” she muttered softly to herself. “I tried.”

“Hang on, I recognize that sword.” The Macaque's smarmy voice broke through her thoughts. “You're that dragon girl aren't you?” He whistled lowly. “It's been what, ten years?” slowly she watched the monster approach. “Have you been tracing me your whole life?” He laughed, a cruel cold thing. “and right on the precipice of victory you die here, bleeding out from a stomach wound. Pathetic.” he leaned against a table, ready to host the banquet for the wedding that would never come now. “Honestly that's hilarious.”

her fist tightened over the handle in her stomach.

–

He needed to be quick, he only had a little time before the Prince came in to end him, and with his hands so useless already he would just need to stop the bleeding which would be a snap once he had his fire back.

But he needed something sharp first. His hands gave dull throbs of pain whenever he tried to force the sluggish digits to move but eventually through his rummaging through the nearby work desk he found a small silver dagger, likely the one the prince was planning on using to kill him later on. He'd have to brace the knife on something to get both of his hands and if he passed out in pain he was as good as dead.

Soon enough he pulled together a brace on the worktable, and went about steadying his left hand first, if he was quick he could pass it right through cleanly and-

“You know there's kind of a shortage on perfect hands, It'd be kind of a shame to waste such beauty as yours.” a voice cut through his thoughts.

A familiar voice. But a kindly one.

His heart leaped into his throat and he felt his face turn red as he turned to find Xiaotian, a little beaten up and still in his False Monkey King garb laying on the bedding as if this were any day back on his mountain. Red Son wondered just how long his love had been there, watching him plotting out and trying to carry out his own dismemberment, and Red Son hadn't noticed. It would have been embarrassing if he bothered to care.

But he didn't, he cared far more about seeing his beloved again and ignored the pain in his hands as he fell on top of Xiaotian in the bed, barely able to get his name out before Red Son was kissing him. The uncertainty that the prince had placed in his mind burning away in and instant as he felt Xiaotian move against him he was kissing him back, he wasn't angry or upset-

But he wasn't returning the embrace.

Red Son pulled himself away from that perfect mouth just long enough to smile and mumble a small teasing comment. “Is this your revenge for leaving you waiting? Must I beg just to get you to hold me?”

“Ah-” Xiaotian sounded pained, but when Red Son let up properly any trace of discomfort was gone. “No, it's just a bit complicated.” But there were other pressing matters.

“I just need a moment my love, no matter if I'd love nothing more than to run off with you, I wasn't able to stop the Prince from forcing things to fall in his way.” It was a rock in his gut to consider, especially how without the use of his hands he'd need to somehow pull a victory against a demon prince in his own mountain but-

“If we want to be together this farce of a marriage needs to be made defunct.”

“Well did you consent to it?” That gave him pause.

“Huh?”

“The marriage, did you give consent to it?”

“Of course not!” his temper flared for a moment only to be immediately quelled by the small adoring grin Xiaotian hadn't stopped looking at him with. “I spent the whole time rejecting the whole thing, loudly. Violently. Buying time for you to break the ceremony up, wonderful timing by the way Noodle Boy, I was just about to chop my own hands off if you hadn't noticed.”

“I did actually. Horrifying. But crafty.”

“But what does my consent have to do with it, that's not how demons work things out-”

“Maybe, but it means more when its demons marrying each other.” His gaze flickered to a place just over Red Son's shoulder. “Wouldn't you agree, your highness?”

a thin blade rested on Red Son's shoulder. “A mistake that shall never be repeated, 'Monkey King'” the Prince hissed, breath hot and far too close to Red Son's ear.

–

“Are- Are you still trying to fight?” Her knees felt like they were about to give in, and her hands were shaking, but she was able to pull the blade from her side and raise her sword again. “Wow you're obsessed!” The macaque crowed, before finally taking out his staff. “That's gonna get you into trouble some day.” he sent the head of the staff for her face, child's play, the flat of her sword hit it right before impact and pushed it to the side, one half of her hair was taken down from its updo, the stone cracked beside her head.

But her skull wasn't smashed in.

The Macaque pulled away and made another lunge. He was rusty. How long had it been since he'd actually fought anyone? She made the next jab skew to the other side, her hair now fully released from its former ties, the wall behind her now a pile of rubble.

It seemed the Macaque realized she wasn't an easy kill because he started to properly wield his staff again.

His form was sloppy. Strikingly easy to counter, even with the fact that she was stumbling forward, free hand buried in her clothes to try and stop the bleeding in her side as she fought.

She opened her mouth, and she wanted to say something witty, but she couldn't think of any words to say at all, her entire mind was turning to white noise, save the one thing she'd been carrying with her for a decade.

“Hello, my name is Long Xiaojiao. You killed my father, prepare to die.”

Her side gave another throb and she caught herself on a nearby table. The Macaque spurred forward to try and capitalize on the opening.

The bench below splintered into pieces and she forced him back a few steps. “Hello, my name is Long Xiaojiao. You killed my father, prepare to die.”

“I heard you the first time!” The macaque grunted as he swung forward again.

Child's play.

Somewhere along the line, she'd surpassed him.

“Hello! My name is Long Xiaojiao! You killed my father! Prepare to die!”

“Stop saying that!” The Macaque growled, he was getting flustered. Good.

He made another jab at her, this time when she parried her blade met flesh and struck a line across his cheek.

“Hello! My name is Long Xiaojiao! You Killed my father! Prepare to die!” She crowed, now she had him on the ropes, when she moved forward and struck he'd have to move back to not risk being hit again. She could corral him. Her blade landed again, this time along the Macaque's knuckles, and his staff clattered to the ground. The tip of the jade blade tore into his shoulder, right in the place her scar was.

She only ever told people the first part of how she would picture this to go. And sure it wasn't perfect, she didn't expect to nearly die right out the gate, but it didn't need to be.

It just needed this.

“Offer me money.” She pointed the blade to his nose. He was without a weapon and if he tried any tricks she could run him through before they were completed.

“Three mountains full, all yours.”

“Power too, offer that.”

“All that I have and more.”

She leaned back just a hair, not enough to give him any room to work, but just enough to gesture. “Offer me anything I want in the world.”

The Macaque seemed to know where this was going, and whether he had a backup plan in mind she didn't care. “Anything.” He made one last lunge forward to try and grab her.

A grip on a sleeve, a jerk forward, the warm blood dripping down her sword.

“I want my father back you son of a bitch.”

When the Macaque's body fell she didn't... feel much relief. A little, the release of tension of a confrontation, the knowledge that she hadn't wasted her life.

But no revelations, no great euphoria or deep happiness at finally avenging her family. Her side was still bleeding, and the scar on her shoulder was never going to fade.

She began to stumble forward through the pain. She'd lost Sandy some hallways back, and they'd left Xiaotian high and dry, she needed to find them or they'd never get out of this damned mountain.

–

“Now beloved, you may want to remove yourself from this charlatan before I'm forced to do something you'll regret.” Red Son glared over his shoulder at the prince, but he gazed impassively back at him, and flicked the tip of his ear. There was a small zing of pain and suddenly the side of his face was very warm. Xiaotian hissed through his teeth at the Prince, but Red Son did as asked.

Once again parting him from his love because he had no choice but to trust a liar to be telling the truth.

“I should have had your body tossed in the forest when I had you killed. I never liked Six Ears' machine.” The Prince huffs. “But nonetheless it'll be more rewarding to kill my husband's lover first and THEN my husband. And hey! I won't even need your parent's army beloved! The Monkey King will be dead and Flower Fruit Mountain ripe for the picking!” The Prince crowed. “So, Qi Xiaotian, to the death?”

“To the pain.” Xiaotian didn't even flinch. Despite the fact that Red Son had never heard of such a duel condition.

Apparently nor had the prince, “I'm not sure if I'm familiar with that one.”

“I'll explain, and I'll use small words so you can understand you slug faced warmongering buffoon.” The tone in his Xiaotian's voice was unlike anything Red Son had ever heard, even when he was still masquerading as the Monkey King. It was severe, cold, yet ruthless. The unrelenting force of a blizzard.

“That may be the first time in my life someone below my status has insulted me.” The Prince turned a very strange shade of violet.

“Well it won't be the last. 'To the pain' means that once I defeat you, which I will, first you lose your feet, just below the ankles.” Xiaotian held direct eye contact with the Prince and Red Son found himself unable to look away. “Then your hands at the wrists, next your nose-”

“Then my tongue I assume? I killed you too quickly the last time, an error I will not be repeating.” The Prince reared back with his sword and Red Son made a grab for the knife he'd had before, but when Xiaotian spoke up again the prince stopped.

“I wasn't finished! The next thing you lose Is your right eye, followed quickly by your left!”

“And then my ears I get the picture! Let's get on with it!” The Prince was losing his temper fast, Red Son needed to act quickly. He couldn't torch the prince and hope it would be enough to break his cuffs, but he could barely hold the knife he'd dived for let alone be able to wield it with any force.

“Wrong!” Xiaotian interrupted, his face still the picture of determined calm. “Your ears you keep! And I'll tell you why!” The Prince was stopped again, and Red Son figured if he could put enough weight into his grip he could probably disarm him on his own at the moment. And another wave of frustration washed over him at the realization that he certainly couldn't put enough weight into his grip.

“-So that every shriek of every child dismayed by your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every babe that weeps at your approach, every maiden that cries out 'Heavens above what is that THING' Will be heard oh-so perfectly, in your untouched ears.” He huffed a small laugh. “That is what 'to the pain' means, it means I leave you in Anguish. Alone in your head with naught but the screams you've long since deserved forever.”

There was a pause as the Prince processed the threat. “You're bluffing.”

“It's possible, worm.” Xiaotian responded. “I could be bluffing. It's conceivable you miserable odious mass.” 'Odious' what kind of vocabulary did his love learn while becoming the false Monkey King? “I could be lying here because I lack the strength to stand. But then again, would you like to take that chance?” slowly, as though he were in great pain, Xiaotian began to sit up, and from there stand. He lifted his staff from its position leaning against the bed frame, and pointed the end to the Prince's nose.

“Drop your sword.”

it clattered to the ground.

“Undo the cuffs on Red Son's wrists.” a quick spell and a gesture and the golden bands clattered to the ground. A fierce pain jolted through either of Red Son's hands as the blood was finally allowed to start traveling back through them.

“Have a seat.” The Prince stumbled into a chair and Xiaotian glanced over at him.

“Can you tie anything?” his fingers curled painfully but he could probably manage, so he nodded and only then noticed the coiled up rope beside Xiaotian's former resting place.

“When did you get that?”

“You never know when you need rope.” All the same he tied the prince up firmly, excepting on the wrists that he tied to the armrests of the chair, those he tied as tightly as possible.

See if he liked watching his hands turn purple.

Just about as Red Son was done restraining the prince the sound of approaching footsteps came near, and with a flash of green (well, green stained red) he recognized the Swordsman mercenary.

She looked around at the lot of them and then her gaze settled on Xiaotian. “Where's Sandy?”

“He took of with you!” Xiaotian countered.

“Yeah but then he said he'd double back!”

“Well-!” Xiaotian cut himself off with a surprised yelp as his body pitched to the side, Red Son of course was there to catch him.

“Quick on the draw Red Boy.” The Swordsman hummed “Was that just reflex?”

He didn't pay her any mind. “Xiaotian what happened are you alright?”

“I'll be fine.”

“He was mostly dead all day, his body's completely zapped of strength.” The Swordsman countered.

“You've been dead?!”

“Mostly dead!” Xiaotian corrected as if that made any difference.

“Ha!” The Prince cackled. “I knew you were bluffing!” The Swordsman had zero patience for him though as that was enough for her to press her sword to his nose. “I knew he was bluffing.” The Prince repeated far more sedate.

“Xiaojiao! Xiaojiao can you hear me?” a voice calling from the window broke up all the near forming arguments, and though ti took Red Son a little finagling to ensure he had a proper grip on Xiaotian despite his hands not wanting to grip much of anything right now, the three made their way to the window peeking out the side of the mountain only for Red Son to see the large mercenary waiting below with a small gaggle of horses.

“Ah! Xiaojiao! There you are! I was trying to make my way back to Xiaotian and I ended up in the Prince's stables! The poor things deserve to have better keepers I think! I figured I'd take four of them, since there would be four of us when we found the Red Prince.” Sandy's eyes flickered to Red Son. “Oh, Hello Red Prince!”

“Nice job Sandy!” the Swordsman (Xiaojiao apparently) cheered. “Think you can catch some projectiles?”

“Of course!”

the large mercenary (Sandy) positioned himself below the mountainside, ready to catch any and all of them, and Red Son could remember, vividly, just how adept he was at such physical performances.

“well, royalty first.” Xiaojiao turned to him and gestured. Which, whatever. Though his hands gave another painful throb, he climbed onto the windowsill and jumped. The air was cool as it whipped against him.

–

“You know, it's funny.”

“What is?”

“I killed the Six Eared Macaque and now... I'm not sure what else to do. I've been in the revenge business so long, I don't know if I have anything else of value to try out.”

“Would you like to try leading? I could use a captain I can trust back on Flower Fruit Mountain.”

Xiaojiao shrugged.

–

“Oh, well you don't wanna hear this. The end I suppose.”

“What? Why are you stopping if it's not the end?”

“Well you were very specific about not wanting to hear about the kissing stuff, I don't want to gross you out or anything little one.”

“Well... Maybe I... won't super mind... if it's the ending. But only because it's the ending!”

–

It took a week's travel for the four to enter truly safe territory. To come into the lands of Flower Fruit Mountain and be greeted by the armies of demon monkeys that Xiaotian called his people.

They were finally safe, and Red Son recalled that he'd promised himself to wait until such a time came before he allowed himself to drown again in the ardor of having his love back, but now that it came, he found he simply wasn't as deliriously giddy as he once was. The stresses that had mounted between Xiaotian's return and now had dampened the mood, though his hands no longer ached and strength had returned to Xiaotian's body, they'd both been through so much stress there simply wasn't the space in either of their heads to be anything but focused on reaching their destination.

Of course Red Son had curled up next to his love every night around the campfire the Swordsman- That Xiaojiao would light and tend to, but there was nothing but relief in his body, bone deep, weary relief.

But now they were safe, and Red Son simply couldn't muster up the energy. He should have been jittery and excited to be alone with his love, but honestly he'd just wanted to bathe and eat something beyond travel rations.

Then the dirt and sweat had been washed away and their bellies were full of fruit and what few savory dishes Xiaotian had taught his monkeys to make, and Sandy and Xiaojiao shared a sly grin before going to explore 'the guest bedrooms' in Xiaotian's iron palace behind the watercurtian, and he was alone with his love.

And he felt like he should do something, yet nothing was coming to mind. They were safe, Xiaotian was alive and right here, and they could finally be together in the open, and Red Son felt such a fool for the fact that he didn't know how to proceed.

Xiaotian scooted closer to him and placed an arm around his shoulders, tugging Red Son to the side until he was leaned up against him.

“Red Son.” His voice was a low rumble that vibrated through Red Son's chest.

“Xiaotian.” he responded simply.

He might not have known what to do, but Xiaotian it seemed did. He reached over to gently cup Red Son's face with a hand, and brought him close.

There have been more love stories on this earth than we have time to ever recount in their entirety, but every story has in it a kiss. A soft, loving kiss, a kiss of relief and thankfulness and passion as the hard part was finally over.

It has been said that in the upper echelons of these kisses, that the one shared between Red Son and Qi Xiaotian in that moment, blew them all out of the water.

Tomorrow would come, and Red Son would sent missive to his parents explaining the situation, and Xiaotian would prepare a message to be sent to his own fathers, and they'd spend the next few days bracing for impact.

But tonight was theirs.

And though struggles were certainly on their way, all in all, their lives were finally on the path to be together.

And to live happily ever after.

–

“-The end. Now I think you should be getting to sleep.”

“Okay....”

“Welp, get better soon little one. So long.”

“....Grandpa Sun?.... Maybe you could come over tomorrow too? I could teach you how to play my game?”

“Heh, As you wish.”

[fysebastianstan]

Sebastian Stan jumped at the chance to try his hand at improvising for the duration of Drake Doremus’ latest relationship drama, Endings, Beginnings. Starring opposite Shailene Woodley and Jamie Dornan, Stan plays an Angeleno named Frank, whose erratic behavior complicates a budding relationship between Daphne (Woodley) and his friend Jack (Dornan). Despite being intimidated by the exercise of improvisation, Stan knew it was important for him to see what he was capable of without the comfort and safety of a script.

“I’ve always felt protected by scripts, lines and scenes. I feel like I’m one of those people who’s opened up much more by scripts. I’m not as witty on my own,” Stan tells The Hollywood Reporter. “This was one of those different experiences, and I would certainly do it again. I’d be curious to see if I could ever use parts of [improvisation] in a bigger movie… So, maybe this was a really training experience for that.”

Until the coronavirus pandemic shut down the entirety of Hollywood, Stan was just a few weeks away from wrapping Marvel Studios’ The Falcon and the Winter Soldier — the MCU’s first foray into scripted television for Disney+. Since many fans have wondered whether the show would maintain the look and feel of its theatrical counterparts, Stan is now shedding some light on how cinematic the streaming show is.

“It felt like both. In a lot of ways, it felt like a movie,” Stan recalls. “What I loved about it was that, tonally, it was very much in the same world that Captain America: The Winter Soldier was, which was one of my favorite experiences that I’ve ever had, period. So, in a sense, it was grounded and very much in the world as we know it. But, it’s also really jam-packed with a lot of massive, massive action scenes mixed with deep focus on character. These characters are getting so much more mileage for all of us to explore them. We can put them in situations that we’ve never been able to put them in before because you now have six hours as opposed to two.”

Now a year removed from the release of Avengers: Endgame, the highest grossing film of all time, questions are still being asked about Steve Rogers (Chris Evans) and Bucky Barnes’ concluding moments. While many fans agree with Rogers’ choice to pass his iconic shield on to Sam Wilson, there’s also a contingent of fans who wanted to see Bucky take on the mantle of Captain America from his best friend. To Stan, Steve was giving Bucky the same gift he gave himself: a life.

“Steve is saying to Bucky, ‘You’re going to go and do that, too. I’m not going to put this thing on you. We’re both going to live our lives — the lives that were actually taken from us back in the ‘40s when we enlisted,’” Stan explains. “So, that’s where I felt they were at the end of the movie. I don’t think there’s a desire or any conflicted thoughts about taking on that mantle. Sam, to me, was always the clear man to take on that mantle for numerous reasons, which also comes with so much more baggage that’s going to be explored in the show. I guess you’ll have to tune into Disney+ to find out why. (Laughs.) At the end of Endgame, for either Steve or Bucky, it’s really not about the shield.”

In a recent conversation with THR, Stan elaborates on the process of improvising an entire movie, the latest with Disney+’s The Falcon and the Winter Soldier and his interpretation of Steve and Bucky’s last moments in Avengers: Endgame.

How’s everything with you in New York?

It’s alright considering what people are going through out there. I’m pretty lucky. I haven’t been home in a long time so it’s been good to be home. You always feel weird when somebody says you can’t do something; It’s difficult to grasp that quickly. But, in truth, if I wasn’t working and I had time at home, I would probably be doing what I’m doing now. I’m writing, watching a lot of movies and just taking advantage of this time to chill out and get back to being present, something that is more and more difficult in our lives. I’m finding that my motivation is all over the place. Once I get to about 3 o’clock, I’m done for the day because it’s hard for me to get my focus back. So, I try to do all the important bits in the morning. Once in a while, I’ll go out for a run in the very early morning because I know nobody is around here in New York, and I was able to grab a couple of really cool stills of Times Square empty. It’s just weird, but anything to make a day go by. (Laughs.) This is where we’re at.

So, as I said to Jamie, I felt like I was invading the characters’ privacy while watching Endings, Beginnings. Did you feel that level of intimacy as a performer?

Yeah, man, it was extremely intimate right from the beginning. I was familiar with Drake’s work so I kinda had an idea going into it, but I didn’t really know what the process was going to be like. It really just started with this one-on-one meeting that Drake and I had really early on; we ended up talking for three hours about everything, basically. I don’t think either of us are small-talk guys anymore, so that felt very natural. I loved how honest he was about life experience, relationships and the curiosity of it all. So, we really hit it off. When I met him, I think I was trying to sway him to think of me as Jack, Jamie’s character. Personally, I felt a little closer to that character, but when we made the movie, Drake made me believe I was wrong. (Laughs.) We had an outline of what the movie was trying for, but the specificity of the performances, the relationship dynamics and the chemistry really made it feel like we were discovering it in the present moment on the day. There wasn’t a lot of rehearsal. Shailene came in late in the movie, and we probably had about two weeks where we were kind of rehearsing and just getting to know each other a little bit. The rest was a day-to-day, on-set trial and error in order to see what would light people up.

Since you had just come off a string of massive Marvel movies, was it nice to get back to basics with a film like this, so to speak?

Well, yeah, it’s just different. Particularly in the last two years for me, I’ve been so much more aware of directors like never before. I’ve desperately wanted to work with very specific directors — Drake being one of them. Then, when you go on that set with a specific director you’ve wanted to work with, they have a very specific vision, and I just immediately know that I’m going into somebody’s very specific vision. On the bigger movies, for example, I had a relationship with the Russos over three movies, and I knew the way they were working. Every time, I sort of felt like we were picking it back up again, but just in terms of format, structure and overall scope, I knew they were making a very different movie each time. On these little movies, sometimes, the director can take these very specific points of views, and you’re just in the hands of that. That’s what makes the experience different because it’s that director’s vision, and it’s very oriented to that particular person. That’s how I felt with Drake, and that’s how I imagine other specific directors are. I recently worked with Antonio Campos [on The Devil All the Time], who’s another director whose movies I love, and I’ve always wanted to work with him. Again, he has a very specific approach, vision and how he wants the thing to look and feel. You kind of just surrender to that.

When your character, Frank, first meets Shailene’s character, Daphne, at the New Year’s Eve party, they jokingly put distance between one another. Since many of us are now watching entertainment through our present-day lens, have you realized how ahead of the curve you were in this case?

(Laughs.) I didn’t even think about that; you’re right. It’s interesting to think because we don’t know, really, what the ramifications of this social distancing will be. We may still feel the effects of it well into the next couple years. It’s going to be a while before we get life back to “normal,” but will it ever really go back to normal? That’s the stuff that remains to be seen. I can definitely see a world where people are much more conscious about personal space, perhaps. I don’t know. Shailene and I were talking in another interview the other day, and I was like, “Listen, I know you’re a hugger — and so am I — but do you think people are going to want to be hugged by us after this?” I don’t know.

At least we can now opt not to shake hands without offending anyone.

Well, apparently, no one liked that. I was not aware that that was not a fun thing to do. Yeah, that might be gone at this point.

I got a kick out of Frank’s The Pianist reference. Did you name a different movie for each improvised take?

(Laughs.) No, that was the only time I referenced a movie. Every time it was different. One of the things that I learned with Drake really early on was to never try and do something that worked, again. That reference worked; I didn’t know he was gonna use it. Doing it again — even remotely getting close to it — goes against his way of working. You’re just recreating a moment, and he wants everything to be very fresh and in the moment. I have a friend who always picks on me for watching heavy, intense, dramatic movies by myself at home on the weekends. He just makes fun of me all the time. So, the reference came from that. I love all movies, but I just love watching the heavier dramatic movies. (Laughs.) So, it came from remembering that in the moment and just saying it. It was odd enough, but it made it.

I asked Jamie this question, but I’d like to get your take as well. How do you ensure that you’re improvising as the character and not as Sebastian?

That’s the problem. I don’t know. Even though we’re improvising as honestly as possible, we’re still kind of doing it with a direction from the outline. I think that is what gives it an element that’s still affected rather than me just going up there and saying how I feel. And then, in the editing room, which is what makes Drake brilliant at this, he finds the moments; the way he cuts is just fascinating to me. I remember saying to him, “Drake, no take is the same. I don’t know how you’re going to cut this. It’s impossible.” And yet, he made it work. He found the conversation, and he found the moments. He’s got a very specific way of cutting that I love which is the reactions and so on. He really filtered those performances in the editing room as well. There was a lot of back-and-forth dialogue between me and Shailene that never made it, but again, it’s about him picking what he feels is right for who each character is.

Did you have any history with improvisation before this experience?

No, not at all.

Were you intimidated by it?

I definitely was. Absolutely, I was. I didn’t have an audition for the movie, but I had that three-hour session with Drake where we talked about different things and topics. I think he was just curious to see how honest our conversation could go, and I just wasn’t afraid of that. It was very scary at the beginning. It’s that question you asked, where you go, “Well, this isn't really who I am. I don’t do these things that this character does.” I’ve always felt protected by scripts, lines and scenes. I feel like I’m one of those people who’s opened up much more by scripts. I’m not as witty on my own. This was one of those different experiences, and I would certainly do it again. I’d be curious to see if I could ever use parts of it in a bigger movie. Believe it or not, on those bigger projects, you do use improv. You do the scenes a couple times. You get it as it’s written on paper, and then you say, “Let’s just do this one more time and try it out this way. Let’s just see what happens and then we have it.” Sometimes, that ends up in the movie because it’s weirdly a sort of wildcard. So, maybe this was a really training experience for that.

Shifting gears to some obligatory Marvel questions… Did you shoot The Falcon and the Winter Soldier like a TV show or movie?

It felt like both. In a lot of ways, it felt like a movie. Again, we’re not finished; we still have some stuff to do. What I loved about it was that, tonally, it was very much in the same world that Captain America: The Winter Soldier was, which was one of my favorite experiences that I’ve ever had, period. So, in a sense, it was grounded and very much in the world as we know it. But, it’s also really jam-packed with a lot of massive, massive action scenes mixed with deep focus on character. That’s what’s really exciting about this. We’re getting to keep it in the world of the movies, so it’s recognizable that way, but at the same time, these characters are getting so much more mileage for all of us to explore them. We can put them in situations that we’ve never been able to put them in before because you now have six hours as opposed to two. It’s always a discovery.

Prior to the shutdown, is it true that you were only a week away from wrapping?

No, we were probably at least two or three, but don’t quote me on that.

At the end of Avengers: Endgame, between the dialogue and your performance, it seemed pretty cut and dried that Bucky knew about Steve’s plan to remain in the past with Peggy (Hayley Atwell). Were you surprised that some people didn’t entirely pick up on that?

I don’t know if I was surprised. The Internet completely misconstrued something else and made it entirely into something that it wasn’t, but later, I sort of became aware that people really felt like we needed to have more between the two of them or something. But, it hadn’t occurred to me because at the same time, that scene was saying so much with subtext. That being said, how do you put it all together in a three-hour movie? To merge all those different stories together, you could’ve had another movie of everybody saying goodbye to each other. So, I love how much people care about those two characters and that they wanted more from them, but I just took it as “This is as much screen time as we’ve got left before the movie ends.” It was already such a long movie. And then, it’s just the knowledge that these guys have always known each other’s moves, so to speak. They knew each other so well that they could say, “Okay, I know what he’s going to do, what decisions he’s going to make and I support that.” Yeah, it’s just what it was. That’s what was on the page, and that’s what we shot.

Bucky hugged Steve and said he was gonna miss him. To me, it’s crystal clear that you played it as knowing Steve’s intent.

Oh, a thousand percent, yeah. I played it as goodbye. What I was playing was, “Okay, I know he’s going, and he’s not going to come back. I can’t talk about it, because if I do, then they’re going to try and stop him from doing what he wants to do. So, I’ve gotta support that.” That’s what I was playing in the scene. Suddenly, when he shows back up again, I’m playing it like, “Oh! Well, he didn’t tell me he was gonna do that. I knew he was gonna leave, and even though I knew what he was going to do with the shield, I didn't know he was gonna pop up over there now and be older.” So, I was playing that. Look, I love a good scene with dialogue, but sometimes, I find it really interesting when there’s not a lot said. And funnily enough, it’s sort of been the trademark of Bucky. Then, you’re watching behavior, you’re watching the eyes and you’re wondering what they’re thinking. You’re more involved and tuned in. So, it’s always fun for me to try to do as much as I can without dialogue. It’s exciting as an actor because then I wonder what people are getting out of it. In that aspect, it’s fun.

Some people still lament the fact that Steve didn’t give Bucky the shield in order to take on the mantle of Captain America. Bucky may have been brainwashed, but Captain America is such a symbolic position that you can’t just write off fifty years of transgressions by The Winter Soldier. I also have a hard time imagining that Bucky would even want that role. Since you know Bucky best, what’s your impression of Steve’s choice?

The MCU — as I saw it from my humble perspective — is a bit different in that regard to the comics. Where we arrived with him at the end felt more like he was in a place with a desire for some sort of release: to start over, start life again in a way, find out who he is again on his own and leave all this behind. Yes, it all happened, but at some point, you gotta own your mistakes, what happened and try to start over. That’s where I felt like the character was at the end of Avengers: Endgame. It’s also what he wanted for Steve. Like anybody that ends up traumatized by a war experience, he was affected by it for the rest of his life. So, what felt like a desire there was for a restart — for him and for Steve in a way. It didn’t necessarily feel like the shield was gonna be that. Steve going back in time and saying, “I’m gonna take something for me now. I’ve been here for all these guys, and I’ve done the best I could. I’m just a man, and I’m going to go back and try to live my life.” I feel that is something that Bucky would want for his best friend, and at the same time, Steve is saying to Bucky, “You’re going to go and do that, too. I’m not going to put this thing on you. We’re both going to live our lives — the lives that were actually taken from us back in the ‘40s when we enlisted.” So, that’s where I felt they were at the end of the movie. I don’t think there’s a desire or any conflicted thoughts about taking on that mantle. Sam, to me, was always the clear man to take on that mantle for numerous reasons, which also comes with so much more baggage that’s going to be explored in the show. I guess you’ll have to tune into Disney+ to find out why. (Laughs.) At the end of Endgame, for either Steve or Bucky, it’s really not about the shield.

I really loved Destroyer, and I thought you were great in it. It continues to blow my mind that Karyn Kusama isn’t able to do whatever she wants. Granted, she just got Universal’s Dracula…

I already emailed her about that. I said, “You know I’m from Romania, right?” and she goes, “Yes, yes, it’s very early — and there’s a pandemic. Hopefully, we’ll see you in four years.” (Laughs.)

What comes to mind when you reflect on that experience and working with Karyn?

Thank you for mentioning that movie. I love that movie, I love her and I had such a great time on it. I would love to keep finding projects with her — projects that kind of push you in a different direction. Again, this goes back to your earlier questions about these smaller movies, and I was referencing the vision of a director, how important that is and sometimes surrendering to that. That’s what that movie was for me. Karyn saw this character and movie in a certain way, and it was my job to learn that world, the tone and fit into it. I loved her as a director because she was so specific with me from the get-go. She also really allowed me to discover it on my own. We talked about the tattoos, the look, his history… It was very collaborative before we started, and then, when we started, it was actually very specific. She was one of those directors that made me feel so safe and confident in my choices, simply by the way she communicated with me. I think that came from her absolute confidence in what she wanted and what she saw. I really wish more people had seen that movie. Maybe they have by now; I don’t know. And obviously — Nicole Kidman. It was one of those dreams to work opposite her. It was a good package.

***

Endings, Beginnings is now available on digital HD and VOD on May 1.

[softspideys]

Enemies at First Sight (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

summary: when your best friends start dating, you and bucky barnes have no choice but to hang out. there’s only one problem: you hate each other

warnings: none

word count: 4.6k

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

a/n: nothing like a good ol’ fashioned enemies-to-lovers college!au am I right ladies.....this is my first time writing for bucky so I really hope y’all enjoy! :) 

“Remind me again why I agreed to do this?” you said wearily as you shut the door to your Uber and followed Sharon to the bar.

“Because you’re my best friend and you love me?” she said, shooting you a smile over her shoulder. You wrinkled your nose and she sighed. “Because I’m buying your drinks when we go out for the next two weeks?”

“That’s better.”

“Can you at least try to have some fun?” she asked, pulling open the door and allowing you to go inside first. It was only nine o’clock but the place was already packed. This was Georgetown, for God’s sake. Why was everyone in your entire school at this small, shitty bar?

You weren’t usually opposed to going out. You would just rather be doing it elsewhere. But Sharon had met some guy in her Military History class who was apparently so cute and so smart, and he’d asked her out for drinks. They were still in the early stages of getting to know one another, so he’d suggested they could each bring a friend to keep things from becoming awkward. You ended up being Sharon’s pick. Lucky you.

“All I’m saying is this guy better be, like, Leo DeCaprio in Titanic levels of good-looking,” you said, shaking your head. “Some Kappa guys were having a party and I wanted to go to it.”

“Kappa guys are gross,” Sharon said, craning her neck to see over the crowd of people. “And I’m telling you, Steve is like, Leo DeCaprio in Romeo and Juliet levels of good-looking. Seriously. Oh, there they are!”

“I wasn’t talking about Steve,” you said as she began to wave. “I meant his friend. You know, the one I’m actually going to have to hang out with tonight?”

“Oh, be quiet,” Sharon said, flipping her hand. “I’m sure you’re going to get along fine. And if not, it’s just one night. It’s not like you ever have to see each other again.”

You opened your mouth to argue further, but two boys approached you before you could get any words out. They were both tall, although that was pretty much where the similarities ended. One of them reminded you of a Ken doll: he had neatly combed blond hair, eyes the color of your favorite denim jeans, and a million megawatt smile that was born to be on infomercials, selling people ThighMasters and Snuggies at three in the morning. He was picture-perfect in a white t-shirt that stretched over a muscular chest, jeans, and a brown leather jacket.

His friend, however, was a little leaner, more casual in just a black t-shirt and jeans. His had a sharp jawline, tousled dark hair, and blue eyes, but not like the first guy’s: they were a bright, icy blue that reminded you of a frozen pond on a winter’s day. There was something darker and more elegant about him, like he should’ve been born an aristocrat instead of a college student.

“Hi there,” the blond guy said to you, flashing you that charming, All-American grin and offering his hand. “You must be Sharon’s friend.”

“Y/N,” you said, shaking it. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Steve,” he said before he gestured to his companion. “This is my friend Bucky.” The other boy nodded to you, a bored expression on his face.

“Bucket?” you said, scrunching your eyebrows together. The bar was loud, and it was hard to hear Steve’s low voice over the din. “That’s your name?”

He fixed you with a glare that was nothing short of hostile. “It’s Bucky,” he said. He didn’t say it loudly, but you heard him clearly that time. He didn’t elaborate, either.

“Oh,” you said, nodding slowly. “Alright.” An awkward silence followed.

“Should we get drinks?” Steve asked, clapping his hands. “First round’s on us, right, Buck?” You and Sharon gave them your orders and went to go find a table to sit at. As soon as they were out of earshot, you turned on her.

“What the fuck was that? What kind of name is Bucket?”

“It’s Bucky,” Sharon corrected, almost pleadingly. “Come on, you just met him. He can’t be that bad; he’s Steve’s best friend!”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one stuck with him!”

“Look, would you rather be here or at that noisy, smelly, gross Kappa house with all those creepy guys?” she challenged you.

You pretended to think for a second. “Kappa house, easily.” Sharon shot you a look as Steve and Bucky came back with your drinks, sliding into the booth across from you.

“So,” Steve said, “what are you studying?” You told him, and he nodded appreciatively. “Nice. I’m double majoring in History and Criminal Justice.”

“Cool.” In an effort to be inclusive, you asked Bucky, “What about you?”

“Foreign Language and Literature, minoring in Russian,” he said flatly. You’d never met anyone studying either of those, but Bucky had a look on his face that made it pretty clear he didn’t want to be asked any questions about it.

The night dragged on like that. After about fifteen minutes of painful group conversation, Sharon and Steve opted for leaning in closer to each other, talking and giggling in low voices. You were used to playing wingwoman for your friends and had gone on double dates before, but none of them had ever been this unfriendly. Bucky seemed to have zero interest in you, preferring to check his phone over talking to you.

“Hey,” Sharon said to you after what felt like hours. “Steve knows the bouncer at that really nice bar two blocks up. We’re going to head over there, do you wanna come?”

“Um,” you said, standing up. “No, that’s okay. I’m kinda tired, I think I’m just gonna go home.”

“Bucky will walk you,” Steve jumped in. “Right?” Bucky looked like he’d rather have his teeth pulled than do that, but he nodded anyway. You weren’t happy about it either, but forced a smile.

As Sharon hugged you good-bye, she whispered in your ear, “Thanks for being a good sport. And look: now you never have to see him again.”

You rolled your eyes. “Be safe, okay? Fill me in on everything tomorrow morning.” She nodded and you waved to Steve before following Bucky out the door.

The two of you walked in silence for a while before he said, “Look, you seem nice—”

“Gee, thanks.”

“—but I’m just not that interested in dating right now.”

“Wow, I never would’ve figured that out for myself,” you said sarcastically, shaking your head in disgust.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve barely said two words to me all night and you look like someone just killed your grandma. I don’t see how I could’ve gotten any impression other than that you don’t like me.”

He shot you another icy glare. “It’s nothing personal. I just didn’t feel like coming out tonight.”

“So why did you?”

“Steve’s my best friend.”

“He doesn’t have other friends? Preferably nicer ones?”

“He does,” Bucky said defensively. “But he asked me to come.”

“Okay, so why you?” you asked. “Aside from your obvious charming and friendly nature, of course.”

Bucky was silent for a second. “He thought it might cheer me up,” he said at last, like he was choosing his words carefully. “I’ve been going through some . . . stuff . . . recently and I haven’t really been in the mood to see anyone.”

“Stuff?” you repeated, raising your eyebrows. “What, did you just get dumped or something?” It was a random guess, but he didn’t answer, staring at his feet as you walked. You snorted. “Oh my God, you did get dumped! And now you’re using your heartbreak as an excuse to just be a jerk. This is rich.”

“You know what?” Bucky said, stopping abruptly. “I’m thinking that you know your own way home. You don’t need me to walk you.”

“No, I certainly don’t,” you said, continuing down the sidewalk. “Thanks for nothing, Bucket.”

“It’s Bucky!” he shouted at your back. You smirked, shaking your head. Overall it had been a shitty night, but you were comforted by the fact that you would never have to see or interact with this stupid Bucky guy ever again.

Although you did have to admit he was handsome. You’d always been a sucker for blue eyes anyway. But it didn’t matter. “Not a chance,” you told yourself, chuckling a little at the absurdity of the idea. “Not a chance in hell.”

*****

Sharon practically floated through the door of your apartment the next morning; apparently she and Steve stayed out all night talking and walking through the streets of D.C. together, and they’d made plans to see each other again. One date turned into two, which turned into three, which turned into many, many more.

You were happy for her, of course. Steve seemed like a genuinely nice guy, and it was clear he was head-over-heels for Sharon (honestly, who wouldn’t be?). You didn’t mind when he stayed over at your apartment, or when she picked hanging out with him over plans with you. No, your biggest issue was still with Steve’s best friend, that asshole Bucky Barnes.

You’d learned more about him through Sharon: apparently they’d known each other since they were kids, growing up in Brooklyn together. Before he hit puberty, Steve had been (much to your amusement) small and scrawny, a favorite target among the bullies at their school. Bucky had always been the one to defend him.

Sharon also said Steve didn’t like to talk about Bucky’s ex-girlfriend, since apparently it hadn’t been the most amicable of breakups. All she’d managed to squeeze out of him was a name: Natasha Romanoff.

Some quick social media stalking revealed a couple things: she was a Pre-Law major with a minor in Russian, which was probably how the two of them had met. She used to be a ballet dancer and had spent time training in Volgograd. She’d done some modeling in Tokyo last summer. She was also, quite honestly, the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen.

“Holy shit,” you said, passing your phone to Sharon so she could scroll through Natasha’s Instagram. “Look at her hair. Do you think she dyes it?” Though the style changed throughout the photos, the color always remained a rich, dark red.

“Wow,” Sharon commented, taking a swig from the bottle of wine you were sharing. “She’s gorgeous. No wonder Bucky’s so grumpy all the time; I would be too if I got dumped by her.”

You rolled your eyes. “Being dumped by a hot girl is no excuse to be an asshole for as long as he has.” You’d been forced to hang out with Bucky several more times since your first disastrous meeting, and not much had changed between the two of you.

The next evening, you pulled up to the curb outside Bucky and Steve’s small, shitty off-campus house that they shared with three of their friends: an Aerospace & Bio-Mechanical Engineer major named Tony Stark, a Mechanical Engineering major named Sam Wilson, and an Exercise Science major named Clint Barton. You were there to get Sharon, but were surprised to see Bucky sitting on the front steps, reading a book. He glanced up at the sound of your car and made eye contact with you through the window.

Against your better judgment, you rolled it down. “Hey, Bucket.”

He scowled. “It’s Bucky. What are you doing here?”

“I’m picking up Sharon,” you said. “Why are you sitting outside?” It was nice out, but it was also ten o’clock at night. The only light he was getting was from the crappy one above him on the porch.

“Forgot my key,” he said. “Tony’s with Pepper, Sam and Clint are at the gym, and Steve and Sharon are . . . occupied.”

“Ah,” you said uncomfortably. Clearly you had some time to kill, so you cut the engine and unbuckled your seatbelt. “What are you reading?”

“Crime and Punishment,” he said. “For my Russian Lit class.”

“Dostoevsky,” you said, nodding. “Cool.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You know him?”

“Uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugged. “Just didn’t know you were that smart, is all.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, feeling a fresh wave of hatred for him wash over you. “Just because I’m not, what, Pre-Law and Russian, that means I’m not smart?” You didn’t mean to say Natasha’s studies specifically; somehow they just slipped out.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “No, it’s because—wait.” He blinked. “How did you know that?”

“Know what?”

“Natasha’s majors,” he said, forcing the name out. “How’d you know that? How do you know her? Have you been stalking me or something?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, although your face was burning at being caught. “Sharon told me. I have no interest in you or anything you do, don’t worry.” Desperate to end the conversation, you laid on the horn, hoping Steve and Sharon would hear it and speed up the process.

“Yeah? I’m glad we’re on the same page, then,” Bucky snapped. “So do me a favor and stay out of my business.” Sharon finally came out, looking apologetic. Steve was behind her, holding the door open so Bucky could come inside. He got to his feet and stalked past him.

“You’ve been here for, like, a minute,” Sharon said as she got into the passenger seat. “How are you guys already fighting?” Steve waved half-heartedly as you drove away.

“He’s a douchebag, that’s how,” you said, ignoring the voice in the back of your head that said a handsome one, though.

*****

You met Natasha Romanoff for the first time at Bruce Banner’s birthday party. Originally, you weren’t even planning on going. Sharon and Steve had been dating for several months now, and you got along with their friend group just fine (aside from a certain blue-eyed jerk), but you didn’t really care to go to a party full of them.

That all changed when Sharon told you that Bruce, their constantly-stressed Physics major friend whom the party was for, was now dating Natasha, Bucky’s ex-girlfriend. Now you were interested. A chance to see Bucky uncomfortable? What could be better?

You were in the kitchen, fixing yourself a drink. Sharon was in the next room, cheering on Steve and Sam as they played a heated game of beer pong against Tony and their other friend Thor, a friendly and competitive frat boy type who was also Bruce’s roommate.

Suddenly, a voice behind you said, “Hey!” You turned and saw the birthday boy himself walking in, smiling at you. There was a girl standing behind him, and of course you recognized her immediately. The infamous Natasha.

“Hi,” you said, focusing on Bruce as he reached forward to hug you. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks for coming! I’m so glad you decided to show up.”

“Yeah, of course,” you said. “Wouldn’t miss it.” An awkward silence followed. You were grateful to be holding a drink, since it gave you something to do with your hands.

Bruce glanced at the girl, and then back at you. “Hey, you haven’t met Nat, have you?”

“No, I haven’t,” you said, because technically it was true. Meeting someone in person was very different from stalking their social media. “Hi, I’m Y/N. I’m Sharon’s friend.”

“Hi,” Natasha said, giving you a small half-smile. She was even more perfect up close, and you found yourself trying to picture her and Bucky together. The thought of it made you a little uncomfortable, although you weren’t sure why. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

“You said you were Sharon’s friend?” You nodded. “So you must know James.”

“James?” you repeated, racking your brain to try and think of who James could possibly be. You knew pretty much everybody in Steve’s friend group now, thanks to Sharon constantly forcing you to hang out with them. But you’d never met anyone named James. “No, I don’t think so.”

Bruce laughed, flicking Nat lightly on the arm. “What?” she said, although her half-smile grew into a bigger one as she looked at him.

You raised your eyebrows, confused. Clearly this was some inside joke you weren’t privy to. Bruce shook his head at you, still chuckling. “James—that’s Bucky’s real name.”

“Bucky’s real name is James?” you repeated in disbelief. You honestly had never thought about him having an actual name, though it obviously made sense. He was always just . . . Bucky. Just that word brought the image of him to your brain, rolling his eyes.  

“Yeah. James Buchanan Barnes.”

“Oh my God,” you said, snorting. “That’s completely ridiculous. James Buchanan wasn’t even a good president.”

“I always liked it,” Natasha said with a small shrug. “And where is he, anyway? I haven’t seen him at all since we got here.”

“He should be here somewhere,” Bruce said. “This is his house, after all.”

Now that you were thinking about him, you realized that you’d only seen Bucky once so far tonight, when you first walked in. The two of you had locked eyes across the room and scowled at each other. Bruce and Natasha had arrived not long after, and then he’d simply disappeared.

It wasn’t your problem. For God’s sake, you couldn’t stand the guy. And yet you still went looking for him. You didn’t bother asking Steve or Sharon where he was, knowing they’d just jump to conclusions, so you wandered throughout the house, peeking into random rooms and hoping you wouldn’t walk in on anyone having sex.

At last, you opened the door to the bathroom and found Bucky sitting on the edge of the bathtub, his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. He glanced up when you walked in, but said nothing.

“Hey, Bucket.”

“It’s Bucky,” he corrected you, like always, but he sounded tired this time.

“Or maybe you prefer James?” you asked, raising your eyebrows. Looking at him, though, you privately wondered if maybe you preferred it. James Buchanan Barnes. It was too stuffy, too old-fashioned for someone like him, but at the same time . . . it fit.

His gaze snapped to you quickly, his expression unreadable. For some reason it made your stomach jump. “I guess you met Natasha,” he said. He didn’t phrase it like a question.

“What makes you say that?”

“She’s the only one aside from my mom and my grandma who calls me James,” he said. “Always said Bucky was the name of a cartoon beaver, not a real person.”

That struck you as kind of harsh, but you didn’t say so. “James is okay,” you said with a shrug. “But I think I like Bucket better.” He cracked a smile, one of the rare ones you were able to elicit from him, shaking his head. “Why are you hiding in here, anyway? You’re supposed to be out having a good time.”

“Like you care.”

“Oddly enough, I do,” you said wryly. “It’s no fun if I’m not the one making you miserable.”

Bucky snorted. He was silent for a few seconds, and then he said abruptly, “It’s just—hard to be out there, I guess. Nat and I dated for two years, but we were friends before that. I know—knew—everything about her. And now it’s . . . not like that anymore.”

“It must be weird,” you said cautiously. “To see her and Bruce together.”

“That was why she broke up with me. Did you know that?” You shook your head. “Yeah. We’ve all been friends since like, freshman year, but I guess last semester was when they got close. And then she dumped me, and next thing I knew they were dating.” He exhaled. “I never saw it coming.”

“That really sucks,” you said. “I’m sorry.” And surprisingly, you meant it.

“Yeah,” was all Bucky said. “I don’t know. I want her to be happy. I thought I made her happy. But if it’s being with Banner that does it, then . . . that’s cool, I guess. Because she’s a great person, you know?”

You nodded. Even though she’d broken Bucky’s heart, you had to respect her for breaking up with him properly instead of just cheating. And Natasha had seemed funny and friendly when you met her. You just couldn’t hate her.

“You deserve to be happy too,” you said quietly. Bucky looked up at you, and for once, there was no irritation or malice in his gaze. He had a thoughtful expression on his face, and it made your stomach flip again. Butterflies? You didn’t think you could handle getting butterflies.

“I guess so,” he said finally. “I’m getting there.” You held his eyes for a few seconds until he shook his head a little, like he was snapping himself out of a trance. “I don’t even know why I told you all that.” He got to his feet and moved past you, opening the bathroom door. “You don’t even like me.”

But as you watched him successfully beat Steve in a game of flip cup, argue good-naturedly with Tony over the future of nanotechnology, and cordially say hello to Bruce and Nat, you wondered if maybe he was wrong.

Maybe you did like Bucky. Maybe all of the arguing was just to keep things interesting, and maybe the only thing you wanted to do right now was go up to him and kiss him right on his stupid mouth.

Oh no. There was only one solution to this: you went back into the kitchen and refilled your drink.

When you woke up the next morning with a terrible hangover, you rolled over to face Sharon, who always crawled into your bed and snuggled with you when she was drunk. “Sharon. Hey.” She groaned. “Wake up.”

“What?” she mumbled, her face half-smushed into the pillow.

“I think I like Bucky.”

There was a pause. You waited for her to be surprised at this revelation, or offer you some advice that only a best friend could. Instead, she opened her eyes and squinted at you, looking utterly disgusted.

“Yeah. No shit.”

*****

“You came to this party with Rumlow?”

You turned around and saw Bucky Barnes of all people standing in the doorway, staring at you.

It had been a strange couple of weeks. After Bruce’s birthday party, you came to the unfortunate conclusion that you had feelings for Bucky Barnes. It was a particularly hard pill to swallow, since a) the two of you couldn’t go five minutes without fighting, and b) he would never in a million years like you back.

You tried to act normal whenever you were around him, but soon you found that just being near him made your heart beat faster than normal. Suddenly it was hard to even form coherent thoughts, much less speak. So, avoidance it was.

You’d sworn Sharon to secrecy, forbidding her to even tell Steve, which she wasn’t happy about. She was convinced the two of them would be able to work some matchmaking magic, but you knew better. Bucky was better suited for girls like Natasha, who were interesting and mysterious and fun. You were just an occasionally annoying presence, a friend of his best friend’s girlfriend. Nothing else.

If Bucky noticed you weren’t around as much, he never said anything. In fact, the two of you didn’t speak at all. Until tonight, at a party thrown by your friends Scott and Hope. You’d spent most of the night successfully avoiding him, but made the mistake of stepping out onto the empty balcony to get some air. Now he had you cornered.

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Theoretically, yeah, I did.”

“So you’re aware that he’s hooking up with some random girl in there?” Bucky asked, almost accusingly.

Brock Rumlow was, by all accounts, a scumbag. Sharon was always telling you how much Steve hated him. But he’d asked you to go to the party with him and you’d do anything to not look like a pathetic, pining loser. Except, of course, now you did, because Rumlow had ditched you to sleep with someone else.

You knew you should care, or at least pretend that you did, but you couldn’t find it in yourself. So you just shrugged, turning back to look over the balcony at all the drunk people stumbling and laughing through the streets.

There was silence, and you thought maybe he’d gone back inside. But suddenly he was right next to you. “What’s your deal?”

“My deal?”

“Yeah. You’ve been, like, weird lately.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, annoyed.

“Just—I don’t know. It feels like you’re avoiding me or something. Ever since Banner’s party.”

You finally turned to look at him head-on and immediately wished you hadn’t. You’d forgotten how beautiful he was, how wonderfully messy his hair was as it fell across his forehead, how flushed his cheeks were from the cold, how bright his eyes were. You had to force your brain to start working again.

“Isn’t that what you want?” you said after a second.

To your surprise, he let out a long sigh. “I thought it was,” he said. “But now I’m not sure.”

“Sorry, wait, what?” you said, holding up a hand, acutely aware of your heart starting to pound. “What does that mean?”

“You just—you drive me insane, okay?” Bucky said. “Like, you pissed me off the first night we met and you fight with me about literally every single thing and you’re so freaking stubborn—”

“Is there a point to this? Or are you just going to keep insulting me?” you interrupted.

“I’m not done!” Bucky said, sounding frustrated. “See, this is what I mean! You’re always just around, and you always seem to like everyone but me and—and then all of a sudden you stopped coming over, or you only come over when I’m not there, and now you’re here with Rumlow and you—you make me feel weird.”

“Weird?” you repeated.

“Yeah. Like—like my stomach is fluttering or something.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t know.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you like me?” you said, feeling like the wind had just gotten knocked out of you. There was just no way that was what he meant. It just couldn’t be.

“I . . . yeah,” Bucky said quietly, exhaling. “I think I am.”

For a second the two of you just stared at each other. You searched his face, looking for any sign of him joking, but couldn’t find it. His eyes never left yours, looking back at you unflinchingly. You swallowed. This was real. This was actually real.

“I think,” you said finally, “you should kiss me.”

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice. He slid over, leaning in to crash his lips against yours. You fisted one hand in his shirt while he cupped your cheek, pressing closer still. Everything else seemed to stop, and you didn’t care that it was freezing out, or that your lips were slightly chapped, or that Steve and Sharon were never going to let you hear the end of this. You were kissing Bucky after all these long months of so desperately wanting to.

And God, he was good at it, kissing you so deeply and thoroughly it made your knees feel a little weak. His warm hands ran down your torso, slipping beneath your jacket and shirt and rubbing the skin there. Part of you couldn’t help but be annoyed at the fact that you’d known Bucky for about six months now and had only just gotten around to kissing him now.

At last, he placed one more soft kiss on your lips before pulling away, his eyes sparkling in a way that you’d never seen before. He looked . . . happy. Really, genuinely happy. I did that, you thought to yourself, almost in wonder.

“Do you wanna get outta here?” Bucky asked, gesturing to everything around you. “I know it’s a little overdue, but maybe I can walk you home now.”

You laughed and nodded. “Yeah. That sounds great.” He held out his hand and you took it, liking the way your fingers fit between his. “Let’s go, Bucket.”

“It’s Bucky,” he corrected you, but he was smiling.

[coconutsugacones]

BUGS BIRTHDAY "STASH"

san and I were cuddling on top of the couch, watching tiktoks and giggling, forgetting what personal space meant and then all of a sudden he He lifts up his white shirt off his body and came straight at my neck, attacking m with harsh hickeys

he took my shirt off and went lower and lower, kissing every inch of my skin. Normally I would have screamed at him to stop but these days my hormones have been acting on me and with all my emotions heightened, I start to enjoy it slightly moaning his name while my hans went up to his face he sliD my panties off and started slURPING up my insides like a slushie. It was when he started to suckk on my lil ball of nerves when the front door opened with an ASTrOmOnIcal Amount of force the door open bUrSt open and two clowns ran in. Two plump looking clowns in striped reD was all I saw for a few seconds in my aroused state. It was then I realised it was my two mates.

“just as it was getting good” i whispered to san as we tried to cover ourselves oP because we realized they we’re tryna film us to make a porno tape??. As Mals was trYnnA gesture at me to keep going, her clown nose detached off and rolled on to to sans ass.

mals tried to pick up her clown nose from sans ass but just ended up making it go further in his holé. "ahhh UhG" San let out a moan that I could only describe as something between an anime girl and a construction worker having a wank on his break.

now all 3 of us were gathered around sans ass, trying to get the clown nose outta his ass, we were working aT iT like a group of engineering students trying to fix a brokEn engine. Then rans had the absolutely thrilling idea of facetiming her bouyften Yuri for help getting it out. While I was trying my best to deter her away from that idea (cause hello that's mY BRO) San that mf spilled all his load on the couch

while ihu was busy trying to clean sans white mess up rans quickly called yuri up, knowing he had plently experiences with getting bALLs outta pacific holes

"yes it only works with strawberry ice-cream" we heard Yuri say. with that rans quicky went towards the fridge to look for the said icY GOodnESs. we were all confused with what yuri said, but at this point we were willing to try anYTHING to shimmy that ball out of there

"Shimmy yeah shimyy yeah shimmy yeah all allalassslll" San Started to sing. It was then rona’ came in with a bUCKet of the sweet stuff™️

She guided San to sit in the bucket and thanked the jeezis for his thin hips and snatched waist. The poor bOi was terrified as to why he was in this situation, calling for HOngJoon hyung even though he's hallways across the continent.

I was doing my best to comfort san, because even though he tried to play it off like it was cOOL*wink* i knew his ass was boutta freeze off

"okay next Yuri said we have to have one hand in the bucket with San" rans said "me MEEee" before I or anyone else could say anythinv, mals dunked her whole hands in.

mals instantly regretted dunking her hand in because it was colder than the mf nITROgen filled icecubes chan shoved up her vaheena the order day. Whilst mals was blowing on her hand as if THat will help we heard some pigeons from the balcony.

my whole face lit up when i realized my m8s were here for the rescue!

All three of us had the same idea and we ushered San in all his naked glory towards the balcony. "Okay San trust us this won't take long"

the pigeons gathered around san in a prayer circle and started chanting in some kinda weird oTher woRLDLY language that none of us had heard before. Slowly but surely the red nose started to slip out of san. This resulted in some ass simulations for the bOi and he stared get hard again, the moans now louder and echoing though the empty street

they all started to cheer clAP in joy, finally the ball was out! but wait what was that-

THE PIGEONS HAD ACCIDENTALLY SUMMONED SATURN 🪐

And there was Saturn! Makinb his way downtown.

san started whIMpering in fear as he didn’t want another ball anywhere nEaR his ass after that traumatizing incident. So we all headed back inside and the pigeon follows us in probably wanting a snack for their hard work. RAns wasnt having any of it and dragged each pigeon one by one by their wings outside and made them drink the now melted ice cream from the bucket.

ihus cancer ass didn’t want her m8s to be drinking anymore of her fiancés gREASE and led them into her bed to sleep, because after all without them san would prolly still have a ball in his ass. The pigeons were all drenched in the pink liquid but they all laid down on my bed like the good slavs they were. as i put the piegeons to resting, i realized we had to do suMN about this wandering satURN 🪐

I went out to sitting room to discuss what we should do about saturn and nealrh choked out sans cum from last night case there was saturn, leaning against the kitchen door just chilling on one leg

“sup ladies” saturn beybe-nim said with a wiNK as he started to hoP towards us

"soo I was thinkinnn" Saturn started with his gay ass voice as he sat down at our table and started helping himslef to sum mashuni and roshi. before saturn could help himself to more of MY food i was coming @ him but then san pushed me aside and started walkin towards sAturn, dick first, at full speed.

"Omg I totally forgot about sans demon kink!" Mals exclaimed taking out her camer and going behind the couch for that "angle" or watever..

san didn’t heard her aNd tRIPPED on the ground, dick in fULL erection and this was when Saturns gay ass Approached him to sing "hey I just met you and this is crazy but hears my number so call me maybe" but san got propelled towards the ceiling from bouncing of top of dick

I had ENOUGH of him flirting with MY mans and went over there and slapped saturn across his smug face.

Saturn immediately burst into tears saying something about how "none of god's niggas can be gay in peace" but the real cAtASrophe was his tears were absolutely boiling hot and dissolving the living room rug

at that moment, san knew EXACTLY what he had to do before the whole place melted into nothing. He laid down in submission, ass up as mouth open for saturn-sunbaenims tears.

saturn immidiAtly stopped cRYING and came over and slAPPED sans ass, at this point we knew we were overpOwERED by saturn and had to let him have his way if we wanted to live.

Even though I would have never been okay with it I decided to let Saturn have a quickie with my mans.this whole thing was unfair and it was supposed to be MY bIrdthay.

My girlies were comforting me and all of a sudden saturn peeled his face off to reveal he was acTUALLY WOOYOUNG all along and said “no homo bro”

"wOOOYOJnG I'm AbOUTTA KILL YOu" I screamed while going after him with ae fruit knife.

then san turned towards me and repeated a quote by the god herself “it’s not cheating if it’s your soulmate”

At This point i had had enough and scrmead at EvErONe to leave so I can go back to my room and chill in the AC with my pink m8s

while i was having some time with the m8s I realized it wasn’t really sans fault, and he only did it to save all of us. Wooyoung was to blame! did he think this was funny to do on my special day?? me and the m8s were discussing a plan to prAnK him bacc. I knew San and all of the clowns were taking refuge in my parents room so I headed there

when i went in i looked around and didn’t see anyone?? was i blind? I could’ve sworn i heard them in there. Then I went to the balcony and saw rans giving wooyoung the actUAl devil a blowjob so I quickly turned around and saw San and mols on top of the ceiling fan.

this made me even more mad! before i could address any of the problems that were going on my m8s quickly flew in to coMMeNse THe plAn. They grabbed onto wooyoung and started flyING him out of the house as fast as they could and I turned to him and said “if you wanna be saturn so bad go live in space”

My m8s unbottomed his shirt and started to fly him out almsot naked. I laughed to myslef cause he'd be having his purple nips out for the public to see. everyone stopped doing what they were doin and came out to thr balcony to see wooyoung being launched into space. But I wasn’t done with them yet! rans was cheating on yuri, san kinda cheated on me but not really? and mols probably invoted wooyOUNg here in yhe forst place.

I called for a group gathering and picked up the melted ice-cream goo with all my might and threw it on towards the traitors.

they finally got what they deserved! or did they? I looked at them and realized they were kinda elEcTRICUTING?? what the actual fuck they weren’t my friends this whole time but ROBOTS.

I gasped and took a step back in disbelief. Were they the AI robots KQ sEan kIm-nim talked about? But how did he actually manage to make and send them here?

i was so relieved but scared at the same time, at least it wasn’t my friends doing all of theese shenanigans but where were my ACTUAL frens.

The robots were now going going haywire in my living room and I was left to my own devices (literally) to clean it up and somehow get rid of them before my parents cake back.I concentrated all my negative energy on them and actually managed to throw them out of the balcony

They landed on the street and dissipated into thin air. I heard a loud elphephantd noise and looked up to see balcony San but now he looks even more like real San!

every thing was such a mess and i knew I couldn’t do it alone so i called him over to help me clean up and maybe sneak out to fiNd my real frens after that

He did a lil salute and ran straight to my house. I was extremely glads that he didn't reject me but honestly thou I did my hair the night before and was feeling like a bOUjee bitch WHo COULD deNy Me AAhA

we quickly cleaned up and went to look for the huMAN m8s

Whilst we were walking his hand slowly slipped into mine and I almost gagged on mylsef.

then I remembered sAN and how dissapeted he would be and sadly broUGHT ma hans back to myself and went aloNG. Balcony San started talking bout how he was a new trainee ata Japanese company-

we wandered along to this dark, kinda scary lookin hALL? all the lights were off and I couldn’t see anything. My clumoy ass slipped in the shiny tiles and balcony chan was too busy talking about CoLOr changing pigeons to notice it

as i helped myself up, balcony san pushed me into this bALL piT and all the lights turned on! then i saw my m8s and as i was gonna run towards them to hUg them i realized they decorated the whole place for ma borthday!!.my HUMAN m8s, rona, mols and sAN that is akakka

There was this huge redvelvet cake and a small lil stage to the side. When the stage lightings cam on I SAW MF Ikon and they started singing their songs but rock version with AcTUAl live drums and guitars. then all of the ateez members also came up from backstage and they all started singing together. San gestured atme to come up

Ateeze and ikom collabed to make me a birthday ballad song and I was fully bawling my eyes out while stuffing the caked in. From the corners of my eyes j saw rans and mals having a swimming battle on the marbled tiles.

i brought them all in for a group hug, even wet ol rans and mols and i thanked them for this amazing gift! this shore was a birthday to remember

[dafukdidiwatch]

Pan’s Labyrinth

Ive heard of this movie for a while and finally had a chance to watch it. I was going to see it in my Spanish Class in high school, but family had vacation so i missed that day. Which was too bad because this film was really good, in a pessimistic way.

The main plot: Ofelia is a girl who traveled with her pregnant mother to her stepfather's military outpost during the Spanish Civil War in the 1940s. While the rest of the adults try to deal with the effects of war life, she finds herself get pulled into a fantasy world, where she must succeed in 3 dangerous tasks in order to prove herself.

Not gonna lie, it felt like I was somehow watching 2 very different movies that, somehow in way I can't yet explain, seamlessly blend in together.

Because look, magic time in war movies is not a new thing. Narnia, Bed Knobs and Broomsticks. But I can't really think of any other movie that actually has the magic being pushed aside for focus on the war.

I think to better explain this, i need to talk about the two prominent plots in this movie.

First is Ofelia. She is a girl who adores stories and fairy tales (like same). And her story follows that of a classic fairy tale. She meets a magical figure, the Faun, who gives her 3 tasks to accomplish. If she is successful, she can enter into their magical realm as their princess. So you see her being tested in strength, courage, kindness to see if she will get her reward. And, it really does play out like a fairy tale. In the beginning you see her fix a broken statue, and that kindness is what summons the fae. Because that is how it works in fairy tales, when you do a good deed you are rewarded.

We meet The Fawn who approached Ofelia with the tasks. He was designed like bark, so he blends to the background for an epic reveal. He's a bit of a trickster, a flatterer, someone who you cant be to sure if you can completely trust them. Which, as fae goes, makes sense. I went back and forth throughout trying to figure if he was trustworthy enough or was trying to scam Ofelia out her soul or,something.

THEN! There’s the actual serious war movie about an assertive, serious, strict military Captain Vidal (the stepfather), who is doing battle against the last bits of Resistance that live up in the mountain. Like, its weird how these seperate things can be so closely tied together when one story does not affect the other at all.

The Captain is cruel, and a dominating prick to boot. He cares more about his legacy than his new wife/family and it shows in tiny ways to make it more realistic. Ofelia offers the left hand to shake, Captain crushes the hand instead. He puts down his wife at a dinner party saying that no one really cares about her stories. He is so sure that his wife will deliver a boy to carry on his legacy. And this is just his personal side.

Professionally, he is ruthless, sadistic, doesn't give a shit about who he needs to kill or even cares if he kills innocent people. Like, he's scary man, and I was on edge over what he was going to do, if he was going to catch the Resistance, if he was going to hurt Ofelia and her mother.

Doctor Ferreiro is cool. He's there to help Ofelia's mom during the pregnancy, and the pregnancy itself was a whole can of stressful times let me tell you. He's just trying to do what he can to help, even at the risk of his own life. But the Doctor has one of my favorite lines in the movie, where he basically said he is unable to obey without question, because to lose your ability to question would lose your sense of judgement. Yeah, the movie went there with their commentary on "just following orders".

Then there is the head maid Mercedes. Shes cool because you can see shes toeing the line in this place. She may be in charge of the household, but she is still at risk. So you see her do small things, subtle things, to keep ahead and keep out on top. Stuff most people wont notice during the moment, but it lingers just long enough on camera so the audience can hopefully pick it up. It..it almost feels like she's the main character in the War Part of the film with the Captain as the villain.

The movie really does make a divide between Magic and Reality in sets. Becase while the adults are in war time here, Ofelia is in her own magic business. The sets when she does her challenges, incredible. Totally astounding. The set of the 2nd task terrifies me.

^This scene. It freaked me the fuck out. It is literally just “enter the room and dodge the monster” but the atmosphere is just FILLED with temptation and danger I just choked on stress for Ofelia’s safety. Which still falls under the fairy tale rules of “follow the advise or suffer the consequences.” But it is just filled with red and yellows, colors that you don’t see in the War portion of the film.

You can even see some of the magic being used in the war film. Ofelia uses magic to help heal her mother who's sick. In the beginning she fixes a broken statue and garners the attention of the fae and Fawn in thr first place (a total fairy tale movie). But it is so small and subtle that it can give into doubt on "is magic real, or just all in her head?"

I think, the reason these plots can mash so well together, is because they both center around when people should trust and when people should question. Not following the rules has consequences that can cost you your life. But you shouldn't obey everything, especially when it could cost someone their life. Del Toro did a magnificent job showing this in both a simple fairy tale and a hard war movie.

Overall I definitely recommend to watch this movie. The premise is a bit misleading, and it is pretty heavy, but if you like dark fantasy mixed in with realistic war you are going to enjoy the hell out of this.

[jgroffdaily]

[This story contains spoilers for season two of Mindhunter on Netflix.]

If you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you: That well-worn Nietzsche quote might be the best explanation for what happened to Holden Ford, the impetuous FBI wunderkind played by Jonathan Groff, in the season one finale of Mindhunter. Holden, alongside his partner Bill Tench (Holt McCallany), had spent months interviewing incarcerated serial killers in order to glean insight into their mind-set, pioneering the science of criminal profiling.

Having demonstrated an uncanny knack for getting truths out of monsters, Holden started to ride way too high on his own brilliance, alienating his colleagues and jeopardizing the already uncertain future of the fledgling Behavioral Science Unit. In the season finale he paid an ill-advised solo visit to the serial killer Ed Kemper (Cameron Britton), who responded by giving him the most menacing hug ever committed to film. The season closes with Holden in the grips of a long-overdue panic attack after escaping Kemper, the darkness of his work and the recklessness of his approach finally catching up to him.

Season two, which picks up directly after the finale, sees Holden continuing to struggle with panic attacks in private, while still letting his ego run away with him at work. “Though Holden is still engaged with doing interviews with serial killers, now he's getting a little snobby about it,” Groff tells The Hollywood Reporter. “He only wants to interview the killers that he personally deems worthy.” That new attitude, combined with his mental fragility, seems like a recipe for disaster — particularly once Holden travels to Atlanta to tackle the most difficult case of his career to date.

Groff spoke to THR about depicting Holden’s mental breakdown, what’s different about season two’s interrogation scenes and how the Atlanta child murders case unfolds onscreen.

At the end of season one, it feels like Holden has the air punctured out of him by Kemper. He goes from incredibly cocky to total psychological collapse. What was it like to play that very dramatic shift in the new season?

I was so interested to see how the writers were going to pick Holden up off the floor after the finale. In terms of the continuity between his panic attack in the hospital [after seeing Kemper] and his panic attack at the end of episode one after Shepard [Cotter Smith] talks to him, I realized that any time there's a mirror held up to Holden and he can sort of have a moment of self-awareness and really look at himself, it sends him into panic mode. That’s what Ed Kemper did at the end of the first season, he was turning the mirror back on Holden, and I think that’s also what Shepard does at the end of the season two premiere.

He’s in his element when he’s probing into other people’s psychology, but when it’s turned on him he can’t handle it.

Yeah, and when he’s in work mode, and he's a dog with a bone, it sort of evaporates and he's fine. It's just these little moments when his blinders are removed that he sinks into panic. The minute he pulls his shit together for the [David] Berkowitz interview, and Tench says “I think he’s back,” I love it because it adds a layer of drama to every scene moving forward. We’ve logged this information as something that can happen to Holden, and now that factors into every interview, knowing that potential is there.

What goes into depicting a panic attack onscreen?

I’d forgotten about this until just now, but when we were filming the season one finale, in the moment right before Kemper hugs me, David [Fincher] had me do this (inhales and exhales rapidly), just a lot of breaths really quick in and out, I think just to get all of the blood out of my face. I did almost pass out. That was the scene right before I run out of the room. The panic attack scene in the season two premiere was sort of the same thing — we did it at varying levels, and I started out by overdoing it. I think I was making noises, it was a lot, and David was like, “OK, Groff, take it down a notch.” I love working with him because he can say something like, “Take it down 50 percent from that,” and I’ll know what he’s talking about. I tend to just throw it out there, and then he shades and shapes the level of explosion.

The Atlanta child murders is the most contentious case that the show has tackled so far. There are still a lot of unanswered questions about the case itself, and the FBI’s role in it was specifically controversial. How does the show approach the case?

I listened to [podcast] Atlanta Monster and read James Baldwin’s book, The Evidence of Things Not Seen. And Courtenay Miles — who was our first AD in season one and one of our head writers on season two — could have a degree on the subject of Atlanta between 1978 and 1982. She did so much research, she spoke to police officials that were there during that time, and tried to really get all the conflicting opinions and ideas about what happened. They really try to lay out in the scripts the political atmosphere of what was going on at that time in Atlanta — the first black mayor had just been elected, “white flight” was happening in the city center, the new Atlanta airport that we now know as this giant hub was about to open in 1980.

It was just a huge moment of change in Atlanta, and the last thing that the city needed — in some people’s minds — was a lot of publicity about these children being murdered. On top of which you have the FBI coming in there and trying to prove this core theory of the Behavioral Science Unit, that you can actually take this psychological work and these interviews, and make a profile of someone and use that to catch an active criminal while it's happening.

Why is Holden so stubbornly determined that his theory of the case is correct?

One of the conclusions the BSU has drawn is that serial killers rarely cross racial lines, and so Holden firmly believes that this killer is black. A lot of other people think it’s the Ku Klux Klan, some people think it's a child pornography ring, there’s a bunch of different theories. But Holden is there to help catch what he believes is a serial killer, in order to help the city of Atlanta and also to prove his theory right, to prove that this method of profiling works.

Season two brings back Jim Barney (Albert Jones), the African-American agent Bill wanted to hire in season one. What’s the dynamic when Holden is doing interviews with Jim versus Bill, whom he’s used to working with?

I love Albert, he's a phenomenal actor, and they knew in the first season when they cast him that he was going to come back to play this bigger part. What’s interesting in those interview scenes is that this season, though Holden is still engaged with doing interviews with serial killers, now he's getting a little snobby about it. He only wants to interview the serial killers that he personally deems worthy, which is a stark contrast from the first season where he's like, “Feed me, I want everything, I want all the information! I want to meet everyone!” Now he’s a little more picky about who he’s gonna spend his very valuable time with.

So in episode three, he sort of begrudgingly agrees to go to Atlanta to meet with these killers who he deems unintelligent, and Barney ends up being sort of the Holden in those interviews, in that he's the one that's actually engaging with the person in a deep way, and ends up gleaning the information that Holden would normally glean. I loved reading that when I got the scripts, because there’s a clear evolution of these interviews in the second season, now that Holden kind of thinks he’s above it to a certain extent. Obviously not Charles Manson or David Berkowitz, but he maybe feels he’s outgrowing the interviews a little bit, and the character of Jim becomes my foil in that regard.

John Douglas, the real-life inspiration for the show, eventually moved away from FBI work and became more of an author and consultant. Holden is only loosely based on Douglas, but do you think he could take a similar path?

Well, I don't know this for sure and I'd have to ask John, but my feeling from meeting him and reading his stuff is that he didn’t move away from the FBI because of disinterest. He had a total mental and physical breakdown from how intense the work was. He was, I think for his whole career, a very obsessive worker. His breakdown happened much later [than Holden’s], when he was a little bit older and had been in the thick of it for much longer, so I think Holden’s panic attacks are kind of a nod to that. We deviate a lot in terms of the characters’ personal lives.

When Holden is hospitalized he calls Bill — who’s not thrilled about having to fly across the country to get him — and says he didn’t have anyone else to call. That line was interesting. Does he not have family?

I think at the end of the first season, we saw him kind of shut everybody out and go off on his own, so in my mind when I was reading that, when he says, “I didn’t have anyone else I could call," it was a moment of self-awareness. He realizes that he has put himself on an island. I mean, the only person he could turn to at the end of season one was Ed Kemper! But when he calls Bill, I thought it was kind of a beautiful nod to the fact that at the end of it all, the person I'm gonna call, for better or for worse, is the guy that I've been through all this shit with. Sometimes we have those people where we experience something insane, and the only person who gets it is the one who was in the room too. I think that line from Holden is a reminder, at the top of the season, that these two are kind of bonded forever, in a way. As different as they are, they have this very specific fucked up world that will bind them together for the rest of their lives.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

[keeroo92]

Nico In Trouble

Hi everyone! Here is my submission for @whumptober2019 for day 5 with the prompt “Gunpoint” featuring everyone’s favorite mechanic, Nico. This one starts a little slow, but I think it came out well. Enjoy!

Word count - 2,489

_____________________________

Nico would never forget the first time she held a gun. It was a Heckler and Koch HK45, not one of her grandmother’s custom builds but a basic and bland model. Nothing fancy, just what her uncle kept in his nightstand for protection.

A beautiful piece.

She hadn’t been looking for it. Before that day, she never imagined he owned a firearm. All she needed was a battery to replace the dead one in the tv remote. She’d checked every drawer in the kitchen, every nook and cranny of the living room and office. This was her last hope, or she’d have to change the channel manually.

Gross.

Yet the sight of the polished metal derailed her plans. It called to her, begging for her touch. Something about the weapon resonated with her very soul and she lacked the will power to ignore it. The battery could keep for a while.

Trembling fingertips slid over the device, feeling its weight and structure. It sent chills up her spine and she couldn’t help the soft smile from crossing her lips as she lifted it, angling the barrel to catch the dim light from above. It glinted and flashed, as if it were celebrating her presence.

She was eight years old.

Guns weren’t unfamiliar to her, not with her family. Papa Rock loved telling stories about Granny Nell and her smithing days, speaking with reverence and pride of her accomplishments. It made Nico jealous sometimes; she wanted Papa to talk about her that way, too. Not to say he didn’t already, not even close.

But it always rang with the tone of an adult talking to a child. Over-exaggerated, encouraging and supportive but not truly impressed. Not false, just… something.

Her hands shifted on the grip. It wasn’t too heavy, but she struggled to maintain a solid grasp even with the finger grooves. Someday, it would fit in her palms with ease.

She couldn’t wait.

That was four years ago.

Uncle Terry’s shouts of alarm when he found her with his loaded gun still made her roll her eyes. Punishment was harsh; she knew better than to play with guns, what was she thinking? Blah, blah, blah. Whatever, as long as she got to touch it again.

But Papa Rock was ruthless. Not once since that day had he allowed her to handle a weapon. It was killing her, especially when he tried to placate her misery with a damned air rifle.

Ridiculous.

He encouraged her other interests, but nothing could quench her thirst to tinker with whatever pistol was available. She begged and pleaded and promised, yet his resolve never wavered. Not until she was ready, he said. A few more years, he swore. How was he supposed to know when she was ready, anyway? Why did he get to make that call?

I’ve been ready for years!

Nico growled and spat out her toothpaste. She wasn’t doing herself any favors by dwelling on it; better to think about something else. As much as it sucked, it was out of her hands. Papa Rock wasn’t one to change his mind, especially not when she whined about it. Either he’d let her near a gun or she’d turn eighteen and no longer need permission.

She rinsed away the dregs and grinned at the mirror, checking for any glaring scuzz on her teeth in between her braces. Another thing she couldn’t wait to grow out of…

Satisfied, she headed to bed.

Well, it was more of a sofa, but that wasn’t the point.

“G’night, Uncle Terry!” she called as she passed his closed bedroom door. A grunted response was all she received, but that was normal.

Whenever Papa Rock left town for work, she stayed with him. He kept his bedroom locked now, probably on Papa’s orders otherwise she would’ve been in his nightstand faster than a knife fight in a phone booth. Besides that, he pretty much gave her free reign.

She moved the disemboweled toaster she’d been working on earlier to the floor and slid between the sheets with a yawn. It was black as pitch outside and insects chirped through the open window, the still-humid air only just starting to be bearable. A typical summer evening, all things considered.

Then the front door exploded.

Nico jumped, her eyes shooting wide as a figure strode through the void. She couldn’t see much in the dark, but the unmistakable clack of a shotgun being loaded echoed in the heavy air.

“TERRY!”

What in the hell is going on?

The figure stepped forward and Nico held her breath. Whoever it was seemed to know their way around the small home, easily avoiding the furniture as they approached her uncle’s bedroom. Terror flooded her mind as she watched the intruder level the gun.

“GIT YOUR SORRY ASS OUT HERE!”

The snarling sounded female. Who was this, and why did she wanna shoot her uncle? It made no sense; he’d never mentioned a pissed off lady. What the hell did he do?

His door cracked open to reveal the barrel of that same Heckler and Koch from so long ago. She recognized it easily as the slide drew back, bringing a round into the chamber. The regular grumble of his voice was replaced with resigned exhaustion as he spoke.

“What the hell d’you want, Tara?”

Now was her chance, while the woman was distracted. She swallowed her fear and forced her body to move, trying to minimize the noise she made but the sheets still betrayed her as she moved to the floor. She cursed internally and prayed, but it was too late. The woman turned.

“Who’s there!? Show yourself!”

A pair of barrels leveled at roughly her position. Her heart beat faster than a hummingbird’s wings, her palms as slick as a greased hog. What should she do? Stay hidden and hope nothing hit her? Reveal herself and risk this stranger’s wrath? Either way, it was a risk.

I might die tonight.

The column of her throat twitched at the realization. If only she had a gun of her own! She’d cut the stranger’s tail for sure! Damn Papa Rock, damn him and his stupid rules!

“Ya got till the count of three! One…”

Her lungs refused to inflate and her legs stubbornly locked tight. Was there anything in between her and the shotgun? Could she duck behind the couch in time? She’d never been the fastest, but maybe just this once…

“Two…”

A click. She was running out of time. Her head spun and her vision swam as she slowly inhaled.

“Thr-“

Her hands flew into the air, palms open and submissive. They trembled as she licked her lips. “Okay, okay! I’m comin’ out!”

The stranger hummed and lowered the shotgun, but not by much. Drops of sweat slid from Nico’s brow and under her arms. She closed her eyes and ordered her body to rise, bracing for the worst.

“Who the fuck are you? Hit the damned light, will ya?”

A moment later, she cringed as rays of illumination flooded the room. Her eyes flew to the floor to avoid the worst of it.

“I’m N- Nicoletta Goldstein, Terry’s niece.”

A sharp clatter. Nico’s eyes stole a peek at the woman to see the shotgun raised once more, pointed right at her face. The hands gripping the weapon were solid, not a shake to be seen as if to contrast her own trembling.

A warm puddle leaked from between her legs to stain her pajamas.

I’m gonna die! Oh my god, I’m actually gonna die!

Enraged eyes locked with her terrified gaze. Her vision blurred, the first tear spilling free as she choked on a sob.

“P- please! I’m just a kid!” she begged. The admission of her youth sent daggers into Nico’s belly.

Why doesn’t Terry stop her!? Aren’t grown ups supposed to do that kind of thing?

“Well, Nicoletta Goldstein, you better hope your pig of an uncle’s got some damn good explanations!”

A thin hand left the shotgun to push hair from the woman’s eyes. Her features weren’t unpleasant, even with rage twisting them. What could she possibly want to kill Uncle Terry for?

“Leave her outta this! Our shit’s between you and me, she’s got nothing to do with it!” his voice cried.

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do, shit brain! All I wanna hear from you is a damned apology!”

Blood pounded in Nico’s ears. She couldn’t hear the cicada’s anymore, only the sound of wind. Her chest heaved as she choked on dread, a metallic tang rising in her throat. What she wouldn’t give to have  more time.

There’s still so much I haven’t done!

It wasn’t fair! She hadn’t done anything wrong, why did she have to pay the price for her uncle? If there was any justice in the world, their positions would be switched. She’d have the gun and he’d be out here soaked in his own piss and drowning in terror. By all rights, he deserved it!

“Here’s my apology, you skanky bitch.”

A sound like thunder split the air as Terry pulled the trigger. With a flash and a smell of gunpowder, his shot struck home in the woman’s shoulder. She grunted and angled her shotgun at the bedroom door, squeezing the trigger and staggering back from the recoil. Pellets blasted into the wood, ripping holes in some places on their path of death.

Shit, shit, shit! What the fuck! I gotta move!

Nico didn’t hesitate, ducking low and darting behind the massive bookcase against the wall. It was a deep one, enough so that she was mostly shielded if she pressed into the wall hard enough. Hopefully, it would be enough.

Another thunderous crack; the .45. Terry was still alive, still fighting.

She closed her eyes and let the tears flow as the shotgun fired, flinching at the impact of pellets on wood. If this went on much longer, she’d learn what it sounded like when they struck flesh.

A string of violent expletives came from the woman as she ducked behind the couch to reload. Nico had mere seconds to make her move and she growled, sending every ounce of pent up rage and frustration to her legs, but they refused to move. Her body was in open rebellion. It wouldn’t let her leave the safety of her nook, no matter how much she wanted to.

Damnit, come on! You coward, Nico!

It was too late. The woman stood tall and aimed once again at what remained of Terry’s bedroom door, cackling as she fired. A massive section of wood splintered away and she advanced, preparing her next shot to spray through the gap.

“DIE, YOU BASTA-“

The .45 fired. Gurgles replaced words and a heavy thud marked the woman falling to her knees, mere inches from the door. Her muddy eyes met Nico’s and blood leaked from the fresh hole in her neck, a steady river too powerful to overcome. She shifted her shotgun and aimed, determined to get what she came for.

Just die, won’t ya?! Haven’t you done enough!?

Her hand squeezed and another round of pellets sprayed forth to decorate the door. Several went straight through and lodged into whatever waited beyond.

The shotgun clattered to the floor, followed shortly by the woman. Her head landed sideways, and Nico watched in stupefied horror as the light in her eyes flickered out. The rage seeped away as her features went slack, a soft exhalation stirring the still pooling blood beneath her.

It’s over.

Nico’s knees struck the hardwood as she collapsed. She couldn’t look away from the woman’s face as she broke down, staring at death as her body recovered from the cocktail of terror and shifted to exhausted relief. Never had she been more thankful to breathe, to be able to sob and shake with sweet, sweet life.

“Nico…”

Shit, I forgot about Terry!

She scrambled to her feet and peered through the gap made from the shotgun blasts. All that met her gaze was the bedspread, dotted with splinters and torn to shreds.

“Is she… is she dead?”

She hiccupped and glanced back to check, just in case. “Yeah, I- I think so.”

A pained grunt and the door opened. There stood Terry, covered in small cuts and scraps of wood, a scarlet stain growing on his calf, but alive.

“You all right, string bean?”

She choked on a laugh. No, she was not all right. Some lady just died in front of her after pointing a gun at her face and shooting the shit out of her uncle’s house.

But she wasn’t injured, so instead she nodded.

A warm hand pulled her into a hug. “You did good.”

This time she couldn’t hold back her manic snort. “I didn’t do anything, I just stood there and hid!”

“Yeah, I know. You didn’t get yourself killed, so… you did good.”

She wiped away hysterical tears and sniffled. Her mind already whirled with questions, but she was too tired to ask a single one. It’d keep.

She helped Terry to the couch just as the first flashing lights lit the room in red and blue. He grimaced as a voice outside demanded he open the door and surrender, an apology in his familiar eyes as he hollered back the basics of what happened.

“Hands on the windowsill! Both of you!”

Are you kidding me? I just wanna sleep! Can’t it keep?

Apparently not. The questions didn’t stop for what felt like years. Nico stopped paying attention after a while, too dazed to care anymore. She stared at the body as someone checked her for wounds. Vacant eyes were all that remained of the woman who made her piss herself in terror. Was that really all that got left behind when you died?

“Nico! Nicoletta Goldstein!”

She snapped to attention. A young man in blue held out a phone with a kind smile; no danger.

“We got a hold of your daddy, he wants to talk to ya.”

Papa Rock… I wish he was here.

“Hello?”

“Nico! Are you all right? Tell me what happened.”

She shifted her weight and pulled at the edges of a blanket someone left over her shoulders. “I’m fine. Just tired. Can I tell ya later? I’m…”

“Sure, sure… later. I’m coming back, I’ll be there in a few hours.”

A long pause. She didn’t have the energy to break the silence.

“Once you’re feeling up to it, I think it’s time. You’re ready.”

She stifled a yawn. “For what?”

“To learn to shoot. When you feel up to it, that is.”

She almost laughed. If he’d said those words a few short hours ago, she would’ve screamed with joy and excitement. Now, she felt nothing. That probably wasn’t a good thing, but she didn’t care. For now, it was enough to be alive. The rest?

It’d keep.

[calzona-ga]

Timely stories, inspiring legions of medical students and empowering women (and its cast): showrunner Krista Vernoff and star Ellen Pompeo and the rest of the cast talk with The Hollywood Reporter about breaking 'ER's' record as TV's longest-running medical drama.

Two weeks before Grey's Anatomy's March 2005 series debut, series star Ellen Pompeo thought her ABC medical drama was, in her words, "dead in the water."

"The day the network changed our title to Complications it was like someone died in here," leading lady Pompeo tells The Hollywood Reporter from the show's L.A. set during an early January visit.

The title change would not stick. Two days later, ABC would revert back to Grey's Anatomy and, now, 14 years and 332 episodes later, Grey's Anatomy, with Thursday's installment, will break ER's status as TV's longest-running primetime medical drama.

It's a feat that creator Shonda Rhimes and showrunner Krista Vernoff, who spent the first seven seasons working under the former, never expected during the show's early days.

"After we produced 10 of our 12 episodes that first year, I went away to make a pilot and my assistant stayed behind in L.A. and she called me and said, 'They're making us pack up our offices.' They made us move out. They didn't think we were getting a season two," says Vernoff, who worked with former ER showrunner John Wells on Showtime's Shameless before being hand-picked by Rhimes to take over Grey's in season 14. "We owe a huge debt of gratitude to ER — without it, Grey's wouldn't exist. … We have surprised everybody — and ourselves. The staying power is amazing."

And the Seattle-set drama really does have some staying power. Seriously. It ranks as ABC's No. 1 series for the 2018-19 broadcast season with an impressive average of a 3.1 rating among the advertiser-coveted adults 18-49 demographic. Grey's is also, sources say, one of Netflix's top performing acquired series. The streamer has helped bring in a new legion of viewers that further propels first-run originals on ABC. What's more, Grey's has global reach: It is the key asset among all the Shondaland shows that have been licensed in more than 235 territories worldwide and dubbed in more than 67 languages. Grey's remains a top performer for foreign broadcasters and has been adapted into localized versions in Mexico, Colombia and Turkey. The series remains a top-performing U.S. drama abroad.

"It's a $4 billion business and it's everywhere in the world," says Pompeo, who ranks as TV's highest-paid leading lady on a primetime drama series with $20 million per season (plus points of the show's lucrative back end and producing fees). Adds Vernoff: "Shonda says I'm leading a multibillion-dollar worldwide corporation but if I think about that for too long, I won't be able to get out of bed!"

Global Reach Every single one of the current 11 Grey's series regulars has a story about the impact of their show. Most of them include anecdotes from viewers — and their children — about entering the medical field and becoming surgeons and nurses because of Grey's. "Graduating female surgeons have gone through the roof since Grey's Anatomy started," says Caterina Scorsone, who is the only (primetime, live-action) actor to start on a spinoff as series regular and wind up holding the same status on the original series.

Kevin McKidd — who was originally cast as a love interest for Sandra Oh's Cristina Yang and has now appeared in more Grey's episodes than the Killing Eve star did during her tenure — was recognized a few years ago on a dirt road in the "middle of nowhere in Mozambique," where he was helping a doctor friend improve conditions at a local hospital. "To see that in the farthest reaches of a very poor and struggling country there was this show that inspires people was pretty emotional," he says.

TV legend Debbie Allen, who exec produces, directs and has a recurring role, says she's now approached more about her time on Grey's than her iconic part on Fame. "I was in Cuba and accosted by these young girls who were screaming, 'Katherine Avery!'" she says with a laugh.

Giacomo Gianniotti, who has been a regular since season 12, is now repeatedly spotted in his home of Italy. "Because I'm Italian, there's this pride — like one of us made it to America and made it on our show that we watch," he says. "I traveled to Kenya doing some volunteer work this summer and a lot of people approached me to say they love Grey's. The reach is just huge."

Sums up Pompeo, who had an impact off-screen when she fought for her record-breaking salary: "Everywhere I go I get, 'My daughter is a surgeon because of you.'"

Empowering From the Start Grey's was the first TV series creator Rhimes got on the air. (ABC previously passed on a Rhimes drama about female war correspondents). Grey's broke out in season two and became a cultural phenomenon, contributing terms like "vajayjay" and "McDreamy" to pop culture. Grey's has also birthed two spinoffs — Private Practice, which ran for six seasons and 111 episodes — and Station 19, which is currently in its second season on ABC. The success of Grey's has led to other opportunities for Rhimes, who really broke out with ABC's political soap Scandal. That series built on Rhimes' penchant for color blind casting on Grey's. (Former star Isaiah Washington nearly played the McDreamy part that went to Patrick Dempsey, while network execs expected Oh's role of Cristina to be played by a white actress.)

"When they had me come in to read for the role of chief of surgery, I hadn't seen an African-American in that kind of role before," says James Pickens Jr., who remembers sitting next to Rhimes at the 2005 upfronts when she hoped to get five or seven episodes on the air. "Grey's is more than just entertainment. Shonda always wanted to make sure that the show impacted the landscape in a way that we hadn't seen before on TV. I like to think that Grey's had a big part in how the industry casts shows."

In addition to Rhimes' breakout success — she left her longtime home at ABC Studios last year for a $300 million Netflix overall deal — the cast has also been able to add to their skillsets. Grey's has launched directing careers for stars including showrunner Vernoff, Pompeo (who made her debut in season 14), Jesse Williams, McKidd and Wilson, the latter of whom helmed Thursday's record-breaking hour. (Former star Sarah Drew also earned an Emmy nomination last year for directing a Grey's digital short.)

"The atmosphere here is if you want to try something, you're encouraged," says Wilson, who along with Pompeo, Justin Chambers and Pickens is one of the four remaining original stars.

For Williams, that outlook has also afforded him the opportunity to build up his own businesses. "Grey's has made a home for me so that I can launch three tech companies and can go on speaking tours and live a life. A lot of that has to do with being on a show that's run by women and people who can actually multitask," says Williams, who will direct again this season.

Grey's has also created a safe space for its (many!) pregnant stars, who have always been afforded job security. Wilson, for her part, thought she'd be written out of the series when she told Rhimes of her pregnancy early on in the show's run. Instead, it was written into Bailey's season two storyline (and the character's son is now old enough to have been featured in a season 14 episode exploring unconscious bias).

"Instead of shunning it and hoping you don't get pregnant, I watch producers actively encourage all of our actors to have a family," Williams says. "That is the formula and secret for longevity: feeding into a healthy life and happiness instead of running from it or trying to press you out of it."

Opening Hearts, Changing Minds Beyond creating a new legion of directors and producers (Pompeo has an overall deal with ABC Studios and produces both Grey's and Station 19), the long-running medical drama has made an impact on-screen with empowering storylines. More recently, Grey's has explored domestic violence with Camilla Luddington's Jo, unconscious bias and new stories for transgender characters. Grey's this season features a same-sex relationship with its first openly gay male surgeon (Alex Landi, whose Nico is romancing Jake Borelli's intern, Schmitt) as part of its "Season of Love." The latter is especially true for Pompeo's Meredith, who is now exploring serious relationships after losing her "person" when Dempsey's Derek was shockingly killed off back in season 11.

"The most empowering storyline for me has been to portray a woman who has lost the love of their life and what does life look like having to continue on after losing the right side of your body? Did his departure mean I no longer mattered or my magic and chemistry was somehow gone? We saw that I could stand on my own and that women who do lose their partners or children, there is a way for people to go on. To be able to portray someone who could go through the hardest thing you could go through — the death of a loved one — and to be able to portray the survival of that is the most meaningful," a tearful Pompeo says, comparing Meredith's loss to the passing of her own mother at a young age. "After that, you think you can't go on. … So it's all come full circle."

Other cast members point to medical storylines that have helped viewers diagnose loved ones. Wilson is especially proud of the cyclic vomiting syndrome episode, while Chambers singles out exploring mental illness with Alex's mother in a storyline first planted in the show's early days. But all involved can point to several subjects the series has explored that have helped open minds and let viewers see versions of themselves on TV.

"Callie and Arizona's wedding was a really big deal and you think of the different countries that the episode was broadcast in and they may not have thought they were ready for big things like that," Williams says. "Whether it was the transgender young woman I just met who felt like she was included because she saw a trans patient whose storyline wasn't focused on her trans-ness, or the police violence episode — which is close to the work that I do — the running theme is allowing people to feel seen and considered."

And sometimes the impact Grey's is making is subtler than a storyline or patient.

"I've had black women say that I'm the reason they decided to go natural with their hair," says Kelly McCreary, who has played Meredith's half-sister, Maggie, since the end of season 10. "If seeing me on screen representing our hair in its natural state freed viewers from any ideas they had about that being bad, unattractive or unprofessional or whatever else they're trying to feed us about it, that's remarkable."

Doing Something New (That Still Feels Familiar) Everyone on the Grey's call sheet will give credit for the show's creative and ratings resurgence to Vernoff, who as Chambers says, "hit a refresh button and reinvigorated the show." Kim Raver, who reprises her role as Teddy after previously serving as a series regular for seasons six through eight, feels the same old-school energy now that she did a decade ago and credits Vernoff for "infusing the quintessential Shonda Rhimes vibe of it." And while Vernoff smiles when told of the cast's kind words for her work, she is aware of the power that comes with writing for a beloved character like Pompeo's Meredith Grey.

"When Meredith Grey speaks, people listen," says Vernoff, who recently signed a big overall deal with ABC Studios. "There is so much darkness and so much to be frightened of and this show has so much impact. People have grown up with Meredith. So, my goal is to have a voice on the planet and to have an impact: to change hearts and minds."  

Vernoff is aware that she is already achieving that impact. The showrunner — who has been outspoken about timely issues surrounding Hollywood including the #MeToo movement, salary parity and more — recalled a recent conversation with Rhimes in which the Grey's creator shared a story from a makeup artist who noted that his brother is a Korean gay man and was moved to see himself represented on screen. Other highlights include hearing from a current Grey's writers PA who wrote a letter sharing a story about experiencing his father's death at the age of 16 and finding solace in a storyline with George (T.R. Knight) and Cristina talking about the "Dead Dad's Club."

"To put my painful loss on TV and help other people through that is deeply meaningful to me," Vernoff says of the origin of that storyline.

As for what comes next, Vernoff did not want to write in a wink and nod to ER — fitting given her relationship with Wells on Shameless and the fact that the former NBC medical drama was one of the series that made her want to be a TV writer in the first place. Instead, Vernoff opted to do something that Grey's had never done before.

"In the 300th episode we did a huge number of winks at the show's history and beginnings. I don't know if ERdid it or not but what I came up with was a no-medicine episode," Vernoff says of the Grey's first. Adds McCreary: "We're in this party scene and I keep waiting for somebody to need a tracheotomy! But instead it's great because it feels like a real celebration of these characters."

Meaningful Milestone As the episode doubles as a celebration of sorts of the record-breaking milestone, the stars all share the same refrain when asked about the significance of doing a whopping 332 hours of television. All involved recall their initial shock that the series few thought would work has become the powerhouse franchise it is today.

"My goal was to do the pilot, take the check and pay some bills!" Wilson recalls with a laugh. Adds Chambers: "When we were in season two, I'd say to everybody, 'Do you think we've got two more years? I just wanted to get my kids to college.' And now some of them are done with it!" Pompeo also points to the record's value in the current TV landscape where viewers have an option to pick from nearly 500 scripted series and 700-plus unscripted offerings on an array of platforms as competition for eyeballs expands to other forms of entertainment like video games and podcasts.

"The fact that we're still the network's No. 1 drama and can stay afloat in this landscape after 15 years is incredible," Pompeo says. "It's also incredible in a larger sense because it's something that I resisted [and] that I said I would never do."

For his part, Williams has now appeared in more than two-thirds of Grey's Anatomy's total episodes after first joining the cast as recurring player Jackson Avery in season six. It's a jarring fact for the actor who initially thought the show would only be around for only a few more seasons when he first signed on. He now scoffs at those who use Grey's Anatomy as a punchline.

"That response — 'Oh, Grey's is still on' — at first, I took offense to it but now I don't because it's not really about our show; it's about the business because shows don't last that long," says Williams, whose tech companies are all inspired by the message of visibility he sees every day on Grey's. "I'm really proud of what we do here — I wouldn't be here this long if I wasn't."

The Future While Grey's has not officially been renewed for its 16th season, it's considered a lock as Pompeo's deal covers the 2019-2020 broadcast season. ABC Entertainment president Karey Burke and ABC Studios topper Patrick Moran both bow before what Pompeo and Grey's have been able to accomplish. "We are awed by this rare and incredible achievement," Moran says. "To make 15 seasons of television that are creatively fresh and compelling — and now record breaking — is almost unheard of, but Shonda, Betsy Beers, Krista, Ellen and the incredible cast and crew have managed to do that. We're very proud of this show and this team." Adds Burke: "How fitting and well deserved it is for Grey's Anatomy — a show that never ceases to inspire, surprise and move us — to achieve something no other primetime medical drama can lay claim to. The creative bar set by Shonda, Betsy, Krista, Ellen and the entire cast and crew will keep this iconic show in rarefied air for generations, and as one of their millions of fans, I congratulate them on this historic milestone."

Pompeo, too, knows she has experienced something special in her decade and a half on Grey's, where she has been afforded a rare ability to evolve Meredith as a character while growing as an actor and producer. "I've come full circle on this show from being an actor with no voice, no say and terrified to speak up or advocate for myself in any way," Pompeo says. "I'm now someone who is heard here and who has a say here. I'm one of my bosses and that's an unusual situation for an actress in Hollywood — to get to say what I want and what I don't. If I left the show, I don't think I'd have that same situation anywhere."

That's not to say Pompeo hasn't toyed with the idea of leaving Grey's over the years. The actress has been candid many times about experiencing the nagging pull many stars on veteran series experience as they consider leaving and taking on new and different roles. But at the end of the day, the idea of stepping away from something as big as what Grey's Anatomy has become has proven impossible.

"You can't ignore the worldwide phenomenon that this show is. How do you walk away or ignore that?" Pompeo says. "Being the face and voice of something that can generate that much money, there's only a very small number of people who can say that they have achieved that. If you're lucky enough to be the face and voice of something that's generated billions of dollars for a network, that's something to be proud of."

Meanwhile, Pickens is in talks for a new deal that would see him continue on as Grey's Anatomy's elder statesman Richard Webber. ("Nothing is solid yet but more than likely, I'll be here," he says.) Pickens adds the thought of going after Gunsmoke or Law & Order: SVU — the latter of which will break the former's record as TV's longest-running primetime drama series when it is renewed for its 21st season — remains "intriguing." Wilson, for her part, has one goal in mind now that Grey's has snapped ER's streak. "I would love to be a starter and a finisher of a thing," says the original star, whose contract is also up this season. "When the show is ready for that last shot, I want to be in that."

Seeing Ghosts Of the many notable cast departures, Vernoff, Pompeo and the cast all have quick answers at the ready when asked about which former Grey's co-stars they'd like to bring back to Prospect Studios:

Pompeo (Meredith): "I would love for Sandra Oh to be on the show but not more than I love seeing Sandra Oh out there in the world doing her thing. Not more than I love seeing her shine on her own at the Golden Globes and on Killing Eve. So I would say no [to that]. I love everybody who has been on this show, regardless of their time here and whether it was tumultuous or not."

Chambers (Alex): "Richard Herrmann. He played my intern for a while and was such a joy to work with. He passed on but I felt very lucky to work with him."

Wilson (Bailey): "Bailey was crazy about George O'Malley. But the thing about our show is we always keep our past characters alive; there is nobody we don't ever not talk about because every one of those characters has been the foundation for why we're here."

Pickens (Richard): "I've been in this business almost 40 years and Sandra Oh brought something very special to every scene."

McKidd (Owen): "Sandra Oh's Cristina, especially the way things are right now with Amelia, Teddy and Owen. To throw her into the mix at the same time? Owen would literally keel over and never get up again."

Raver (Teddy): "Sandra Oh. I started off having crazy, intense scenes with her — like when Henry (Scott Foley) was dying and I love her as a friend and admire her as an actress."

Williams (Jackson): "Frances Conroy. She was here in season seven and I didn't get to work with her. She is tremendous and was on one of my favorite shows ever: Six Feet Under."

Luddington (Jo): "Kyle Chandler. I love Friday Night Lights."

Scorsone (Amelia): "Chyler Leigh (Lexie). She is so much fun and is great with drama and comedy. I'm sad that I didn't get to work with her more."

McCreary (Maggie): "Kate Burton. I'd love for Maggie and Ellis to interact. Kate and I did a play together in 2014. She's one of my favorite people."

Gianniotti (DeLuca): "Jessica Capshaw. We would laugh until snot was coming out of our noses. I miss having her around."

Allen (Katherine): "I had so much fun directing Patrick Dempsey when he was here. I nicknamed him Dash because he would come on the set, look at his watch and want to keep it moving. He never liked to do a lot of takes but was always great. I didn't get to act with him but I did some of his best scenes while I was here. We think of him fondly."

Vernoff (showrunner): "Sandra Oh. I miss writing for Sandra and Cristina."

[bbclesmis]

David Oyelowo on 'Les Miserables,' Making Directorial Debut With Oprah Winfrey

The Emmy- and Globe-nominated actor, who directs 'The Water Man' with Winfrey as co-producer, also discusses taking on the most iconic and tragic antagonist in literature and not wanting to be "the token person of color" on the PBS series.

David Oyelowo has always been a fan of the Les Misérables musical, but it wasn't until he picked up Andrew Davies' script that the star — who's been Emmy- and Golden Globe-nominated for his work on HBO's Nightingale and in Ava DuVernay's Selma — fully appreciated the villainous Inspector Javert. "There was so much more depth and complexity to this character than I ever realized from any iteration I had seen," he says. Oyelowo, 43, spoke with THR about executive producing and starring on PBS' six-part Les Mis miniseries (which debuted April 14) and developing his directorial debut, The Water Man, a fantasy drama co-produced by Oprah Winfrey — "or Mum O, as I like to call her."

Javert is one of the most iconic and tragic antagonists in literature and theater. How did you key into his psychology?

One couldn't earn the way Javert comes to an end in such a dramatic, violent and self-inflicted way without a very clear runway and emotional, psychological and spiritual journey. The biggest clue to me was that he was born in prison to criminal parents, yet he is now a man who detests criminality to an obsessive degree. You go, "Well, it's fine to hate criminality, but to be so obsessed with Jean Valjean­ — what's going on there?" Victor Hugo actually based Jean Valjean and Javert on the same person, this gentleman he knew who had both sides within himself. To that extent, Javert transposed all the criminality he loathed in his own upbringing onto Valjean, and that justifies his obsessive pursuit of him. But when he recognizes that this man isn't just criminal, he is worthy of redemption, he is someone who somehow has been able to transcend his criminality; he realizes that this pursuit has been futile. The criminality that he loathes is still within himself, which is why he chooses to destroy himself.

Did you and Dominic West know each other before this?

We didn't know each other well. He's such a lovely guy and incredibly funny. I had to do as much as I could to stay away from him while we were shooting. For me, I need to inhabit and feel every tendril of the character, and I couldn't entertain the idea of being jokey-jokey with him and then go into the level of acrimony between us. There's such a cat-and-mouse element to Javert and Valjean's relationship that was so satisfying to play. As an actor, a lot of the time you are trying to find the subtext to a scene, to imbue it with interest. With this, it was absolutely inherent. These characters had so much history that was always present in every scene they had together. But we've become great friends ever since.

Was using the music from the stage adaptation ever a consideration?

It never was, no. We all discussed that if we're going to do this, there has to be a real reason why this should exist so soon after Tom Hooper's [2012] filmic musical. We wanted to make it a much dirtier, grittier, immediate, politically prescient version. Being a producer, I didn't want to be the token person of color within it. I was very clear that we need to have that be something organic and truthful to the time. We've done a terrible job of representing just how many people of color were inhabiting Europe at that time. And not just in subjugated roles. Anyone who's read Tom Reiss' The Black Count will know that Thomas Alexandre Dumas was a general in the French army in the late 1700s [one of the highest-ranking men of African descent ever in a European army]. So, it's not beyond the realm of possibility that Javert was indeed someone like me. You want people to see themselves onscreen.

I've read that you've specifically asked your reps to seek out roles where you might not be first in mind. For this miniseries, did your casting come first or did you initially come on as an executive producer? Did you feel like you had to fight for the role at all?

I signed on as an actor first. They approached me and I was actually the first person to be cast in it. But yes, what you mentioned is absolutely true. Early on in my career I felt the need to say to my representatives, “Put me out for roles that are not race specific.” Because the truth of the matter was, the more interesting roles were inherently going to white actors. I am just so elated to now be going into a phase of my career where I am being approached with those kind of roles. It's not something necessarily I'm going to seek out. So yeah, Les Mis is something I was approached with, and that is incredibly gratifying because a decade ago, 15 years ago, I just don't know if that would have been the case.

As an EP on the series, was there a time where you felt like you had to take off your actor hat and fix a problem? Or did you feel like it was generally smooth sailing throughout the shoot?

It was pretty much smooth sailing. Tom Shankland, our director, had such a handle on the piece. You couldn't ask him a single question that he didn't have an answer for both on the basis of the script and the book itself. I was so impressed by him. Our producer Chris Carey also was just a monster when it came to making everything work in a beautiful way. For me, my primary function was just keeping on it when it came to representation within the piece. I think that is when sometimes things slip within the cracks. We all go to the movies and watch TV in the hope of seeing ourselves represented. We all have bias, we all lean into things that are more akin to our own experience. And of course, I have a bias toward seeing people of color in something like this. So it was very helpful, I think, to have me around to say, "Guys, let's remember the nature of the piece we're doing. We need more extras of color here. Let's not forget what we're trying to do here." Some of the development of the script I was very much a part of, and then a lot of the distribution and the marketing and the release dates and all that kind of stuff. Postproduction is a big side of getting a six-hour piece to be its best self. I got my hands quite dirty with that process as well.

This spring, your slate is pretty packed in addition to Les Mis. You had Relive debut at Sundance, you're in production on Peter Rabbit 2, and you have Come Away and Chaos Walking in post. How are you doing?

It's a very, very good question. I literally was in Sydney doing Peter Rabbit. We then went to London last week, and I'm now here in New York. Then, I leave here to go into preproduction on my directorial debut, The Water Man, in about three days. I have an incredible wife who makes it all work. We actually run our production company together. We have four children and they are with me a lot of the time. We scheduled the shoot for The Water Man over the summer holidays so that they can be with me. I really, really love what I get to do, and I don't take it for granted at all. I'm just trying to have as much fun and tell as many great stories as I can, while I can. But my wife and I have a two-week rule. We're never apart for more than two weeks, and so that means a lot of flying, and a lot of crazy scheduling.

You must have a lot of frequent flyer miles.

I have an enormous amount. So if you ever have any trips that you're planning, please hit me up because I have plenty.

Why did you select The Water Man for your directorial debut?

I was looking for a film that was akin to the ones I loved growing up — E.T. or Close Encounters of the Third Kind or films like The NeverEnding Story, Labyrinth, The Goonies. They don't have to be $200 million extravaganzas, but they can have a fantasy element and be grounded in realism and truth with poignant themes. This script by Emma Needell was on the Black List. I fought hard and thankfully got it, and myself and Oprah Winfrey — or "Mum O," as I like to call her — came on as producers to develop it. Another director was going to direct it, but he fell out. My fellow producers turned to me and said, "Well, you've been working on this passionately for five years. Do you want to do it?" I took two weeks to really mull that over.

What was the deciding factor in those two weeks that made you say, "Yes, I will; I’m ready"?

Realizing that I was passionate enough about the story to dedicate as much time to making a film as is necessary. And the fact that the story is just so moving to me. It's about an 11-year-old boy who's on the hunt for a mythical figure who he believes can save his mother from an illness. I also love the fact that it is an adventure movie. Basically, this boy teams up with this girl and they go into a forest hunting for this mythical figure called “the Water Man.” So it has elements of Stand by Me and Pan's Labyrinth, both films I deeply love. I'm always looking for opportunities to scare myself, and this is the most dramatic example of that I have had in my career thus far. So I jumped in.

Was there ever a seed earlier on where directing first sprouted in your mind?

Very early on. It's something I've always wanted to do. I remember seeing Kenneth Branagh's Henry V and that being one of the earliest moments. I thought, “Whoa. That guy directed that and is in it. How on Earth is that possible?" And then he did it again with Hamlet. I think the seed just kept on being replanted of the idea of doing it one day. So when the opportunity presented itself, it had been long gestating.

https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/david-oyelowo-les-miserables-making-directorial-debut-oprah-1213657

[hawkins-hoe]

Bullshit Part II -Steve Harringtion

Summary: Part two of Bullshit (Read part one HERE) Joining Steve over at Dustin’s house to supervise the kids leads to Steve admitting some feelings.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Warning: Fuff!!

Word Count: 2075

PART ONE HERE

The golden sunlight filtered through the curtains that hung over Steve’s window, his room now illuminated. Your eyes were still heavy, blinking a few times to really wake yourself up. Steve’s heavy arm was draped over your hip, his body only a few inches behind yours. You could feel the warmth that Steve’s body was radiating against you, and by the soft snores he was letting out, he was still sleeping. Carefully you moved under his arm, now laying on your back instead of your side. Your eyes flickered up at the drowsy boy, his hair had flopped down over his eyes slightly, peacefully sleeping beside you. It was nice to see him look so relaxed, after his night last night he sure could use some peace. Your mind thinks back to last night, the happenings at the party, how torn up Steve was, the way his voice sounded so pleading when he asked if you would stay, and the last thing he said before bed, a thank you that was meant for you but Nancy’s name slipped from his lips instead of yours.

A slight frown formed on your face, your once happy and sweet feelings of being cuddled next to Steve in bed now depleted; remembering that you were simply there just for support, nothing more. You sat up in bed, Steve’s arm slipping down from your hips while you sat, leaned up against the headboard your eyes wandered around the room. This wasn’t your first time in Steve’s room, but it was the first time in a long time. Not much had changed in the way of his messiness, clothes scattered on the floor, textbooks and papers messily spread across his desk, and a can of Farrah Fawcett hair spray on top of his dresser, making you half smile to yourself. The sleepy boy beside you began to stir awake, his body rolling over to lay on his back, eyes blinking open before his hand comes up to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Morning Y/N.” He spoke, his voice raspy and laced with slumber. “Morning Steve.” You replied back, moving in your spot on the bed, allowing him to have room to sit up beside you. It was evident in the dull look on Steve’s face that he was remembering some of the events of last night, the fight with Nancy, and him asking you to stay the night but it was still a bit fuzzy.

“Did you drive us home last night?” He asked with a raised brow, he didn’t have that much to drink but the emotional toll from last night had rendered him forgetful. Nodding your head you moved to sit on the edge of his bed, tugging on your shoes that sat on the floor. You didn’t want to overstay your welcome, especially since your formerly buried feelings for the boy beside you were advancing and that’s not what you were here for. “Yeah, you were pretty tied up in your emotions last night, didn’t want you to drive like that.” You told him, standing up to look down at him, his body now sitting up further in bed. Silence fell between you two, Steve taking in the information as he recalled his actions, “Y-you also called me Nancy…”  You said quietly, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly, your already bummed demeanor staying the same. Steve’s head snapped up quickly, his gaze catching yours, he could see the disappointment in your eyes and that itself was enough to break his heart all over again. “Shit, I didn’t mean to Y/N, I was just so out of it…” He paused shaking his head at himself, how stupid he must’ve sounded. “I’m sorry.” He muttered to you, his facial expression matching yours. He was already feeling like shit but knowing that he had said something so idiotic to the one person who was taking care of him only made him feel worse.

“It’s okay Steve, I know that you were exhausted both physically and emotionally.” You shook it off, trying to not let it show how far it had gotten to you. Steve stood up from the bed, coming around to stand in front of you, his hands taking a hold of yours tightly. “But that’s no excuse, you were the one who was here for me. Not Nancy, so thank you Y/N.” Squeezing his hands back you smiled softly in response to his genuine gratefulness. “You’re more than welcome Steve.”

-One month later-

It was a Saturday evening just past 7 o’clock, the sun was gone and the moon was glowing up in the sky. You walked the long winding path down to Dustin’s house, you had agreed to help Steve watch the kids during their weekly game night since Ms. Henderson was out of town. The fact that Steve had taken the kids under his wing, especially Dustin made you laugh, who would’ve thought that King Steve of Hawkins High would practically adopt a group of tweens. But nonetheless you were happy to see him spending his time with the kids rather than moping around and feeling down. Over the past month since his break-up with Nancy the both of you had spent a decent amount of time together, studying after school, going to the movies on the weekends, hanging out between classes, the two of you had become quite the pair. Your feelings for him had began to develop again, only continuing to grow since the night you stayed with him. As much as you tried to supress the way you felt for Steve it was easier said than done when it was just the two of you all the time as of lately.

As you approached the front door of Dustin’s house you could hear the loud voices of the tweens and a noticeably deeper one that must belong to Steve. You knocked at the door, the voices quieting down behind it before it swung open, Dustin standing there with his toothless grin. “Hey Y/N, just in time! We were about to all beat up Steve for trying to tell us we have a bedtime.” You couldn’t help but let out a laugh as you stepped inside the house. The rest of the gang sitting down on the floor around a table that held the classic D&D board, Steve sitting on the couch with a audacious look on his face. “Look you little shits, I’m just trying to take care of you like your parents expect me to, okay?” He said with a matter of fact tone in his voice, a smile on his face as he looked over to you. You sat down beside the fatherly boy, shaking your head with a grin, “You do know that you’re not actually their parent right, Steve?” Steve gazed at you with a look of offense, like you had just crushed his dream. “I’ll have you know that I am a great part-time dad.” He whispered back to you while the kids got started on their gaming. The two of you sat on the couch together, spectating the board game while chatting, go back and forth about movies, making each other laugh until your faces hurt.

Hours flashed by quickly, the gaming dying down and before you knew it, it was 1am. The kids were spread out across Dustin’s living room, all asleep while Jaws played silently in the background. You and Steve hadn’t moved from your spot on the couch, but the both of you got closer and more relaxed over time, a blanket shared over your laps and using Steve’s shoulder as a pillow. The suspenseful music and jump scares of the movie were bad enough to make you squeeze on to Steve’s arm, nestling closer to him without even noticing it. And while you may have not noticed or thought much of it, Steve certainly did. Steve wasn’t going to lie to himself, he really did enjoy all the time that you two had spent together since he and Nancy had broken up, the way his heart would beat just a tad bit faster whenever you walked into the room, or how you never failed to better his mood almost instantly when he was feeling down (Which was pretty often the first week of his break-up). While he was busy caring for the kids, you were always there caring for him and that was something that not only the both of you had noticed; but everyone else around you as well. The kids, your parents, friends at school, anyone who had eyes could see the mutual admiration. It was almost as if there was an agreed silence on the subject, not only between the both of you but amongst everyone as well. Though Steve didn’t know how much longer he could keep up with the said silence, the way he was practically holding you in his arms was really pushing the limits tonight.

Steve’s eyes flickered down to look at you, watching as your eyes followed along with the movie. His stare roamed across your face, taking in the beautiful sight that was right in front of him. The gentle arch of your brows, your smooth cheekbones, the hair that framed your face, your soft and perfectly pink lips. On multiple occasions over the past week he had admitted to himself and Dustin too that his feelings for you were growing exponentially. He often found himself thinking of you when you were apart, his thoughts somehow managing to always lead back to you, the excitement he felt when he knew he was going to be seeing you soon. All of his feelings were hitting Steve like a ton of bricks while he continued to stare at you. You could feel the hard stare you were being given, Steve’s eyes practically burning into you before you turned your head up to look at him. The beat of your heart was racing only slightly while you gazed back at the handsome boy, his eyes softening when yours met with his. “Didn’t your mother tell you that it’s not polite to stare Mr. Harrington.” You teasingly whispered to him with a smirk, a slight redness creeping upon his cheeks at your remark. Panic coursed through Steve’s veins, he had been caught red handed, his mind filled with nothing but you and his desire to confess. Your eyebrows slowly knitted together in confusion, Steve’s lack of response leading you to believe that something was up. Even though his mind was brimming with a million different things to say to you, Steve couldn’t manage to say a single sentence. “Steve, what’s wrong? You’re worrying me.” You sat up from your slouched position against him, a look of concern plastered on your face. Nervously Steve ran hand through his hair before the words spewed out like vomit. “I care about you Y/N.” Was the first thing to be said, a sigh of relief coming from you before you nodded in agreement. “And I care about you too Steve.” You reassured him with a small grin, still wondering why he was acting so strange.

“I know but I really care about you Y/N.” He spoke again, your confusion trickling back to you. “Yeah Steve, me too. That’s what friends do.” Steve sat up with you, turning so he was facing you, his hands grabbing ahold of yours while he looked you in the eyes. “But...It’s more than that.” He started again, you opening your mouth to say something but he was quick to beat you to it. “You’ve been my rock over the past few weeks and it’s made me realize just how...h-how great you are Y/N.” His words took you by surprise, a bright pink blush now present on your cheeks. “And I can’t thank you enough for that.” He paused, his eyes flickering down at your hands that were held by his and back up at your beautiful orbs. “I can think of something.” You spoke boldly, capturing his attention quickly. Still holding his hands you leaned in to press your lips against Steve’s. He returned the kiss back to you, a half smile pressing into your lips before he pulled you in closer by your waist. A gentle hand coming up to cup your cheek as you both pulled away, sweet smiles on your faces.

“Thanks Y/N.”

Author’s Note: Hi guys!! I hope you enjoyed the second half of this imagine. Let me know what you think!! I burned the midnight oil to finish this for y’all! Send in requests if you like and hopefully I’ll have another imagine up in the near future! xx Lexie.

[awhitehead17]

Tiny Tim (part three)

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven

Chapter summary: Kon and Tim go shopping. 

Also on AO3

Enjoy! :D

“I hate you.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“No seriously. I hate you.”

“Love you to Tim.”

“Asshole.”

“Hey! Don’t use that language.”

“Don’t tell me what to do. I can do whatever the hell I want.”

Kon sighs and just lets it go, because seriously, dealing with an adult Tim was hard enough as it is (as much as he loves Tim, he can still be a pain the ass) but toddler Tim, is just a nightmare. He watches with amusement as Tim crosses his arms over his chest and then proceeds to glare up at Kon. Well he attempts to glare, Tim’s big innocent looking eyes doesn’t make the glare at all intimidating and the pout on his face just makes him look adorable.

Kon smirks down at him, “Well if you insist on avoiding your family this is something we have to do and I’m not allowing you to just swim in your own shirts and boxers for the next month.”

Tim rolls his eyes, “We don’t need to go wasting money on useless shit.”

“Language.” Kon scolds him again.

“You normally don’t have a problem with it.”

Kon gives Tim a look, “That’s when you’re 20, not 4.”

Tim looks away from him, “I still don’t see why you had to put me in a trolley.”

“Because if I didn’t I would look like a bad ‘parent’ if I didn’t. You’re state of dress is already enough to raise eyebrows, I don’t need you to go walking around parading your badly dressed state. The last thing we need is for you to get taken away from me because of child services.” Tim rolls his eyes again but stays quiet. Conner continues to push the trolley around the shop they stopped in on the way to Metropolis.

Pretty soon after getting out of bed Conner changed into his civilian clothes and then tried to dress Tim up as much as he could. Tim was still swimming in one of his own t-shirts, but this time Conner had tried to give Tim some cover up on his legs by using some old boxers he had lying around.

It’s not ideal but it covers Tim up for the most part until they get something better. What didn’t help was Tim’s constant complaints of him not being a child, them not needing to go out and buy clothes and how it’s a whole waste of time. Kon was ready to bash his head against the wall by the time he was done. He didn’t however, from there he picked Tim up and headed for Metropolis but along the way he stopped in a shop, because he needed to get Tim some proper clothes.

That’s when the next problem came. Tim wouldn’t get in the goddamn trolley. Tim just outright refused to get in the trolley, he even went as far as stamping his foot down on the ground. At that moment Kon was completely lost at what to do, Tim was practically throwing a temper tantrum and he had no idea on what to do to make Tim quiet down. There was no way Kon could let Tim walk around, with his state of dress and lack of shoes it would raise a lot of suspicion.

Having no idea on what else to do Kon simply picked Tim up and forced him into the child compartment part of the trolley, he even used his TTK to keep him there. After a moment of struggling Tim gave up and finally accepted defeat. Thankfully there was no one around at that time to witness Kon’s struggle with the toddler. Now that would have been embarrassing.

But that leads them up to where they are now, which was strolling through the shop looking for the clothes section. Finding it Kon stops at the boy’s toddler section and stares at it blankly, there’s all different variations of t-shirts, pants, shoes in all different colours and sizes with different cartoon characters on them. He doesn’t know Tim’s size in anything, (well at least in children sizes at least, adult size he definitely knows).

He stares blankly at the section for a good few minutes before he hears laughing coming from his side. He turns and sends Tim a glare, “Dude not helping at all. You’re supposed to be helping me here.”

Tim opens his mouth to say something back at Conner, but he was cut off from a voice behind Kon, “Excuse me sir.”

Kon turns around and is face to face with a woman who’s standing a bit too close for comfort. She’s around her mid-thirties who appears to work in the shop as she’s wearing a uniform. Kon looks over her cautiously, this is the first time they’ve been approached since Tim has been turned into this body. Taking a step away from her he asks, “Yes?”

The woman smiles widely, “I was just going to ask if you needed any help, I’ve seen you stare at this section for over 5 minutes.”

Kon’s completely dumb folded for several moments, opening and closing his mouth as he looks between the clothes on the shelves and the woman. In the end his brain clicks back into place and he smiles at the woman, “Uh, no, I’m okay thank you. I can manage. Just looking you know, there’s so much to choose from, it’s usually the other half that does the shopping.” He forces out a laugh while explaining.

That’s when Tim decides to pipe up from where he’s sat in the trolley, “Mommy says that daddy is useless and how he shouldn’t be trusted to do anything himself.”

The two adults look at the child, Tim just looks up at them with wide blue eyes. It’s the look of innocence. Tim’s look seems to be winning the woman over but from Tim’s words Kon definitely caught double meaning behind them. Kon frowns and the woman coos, “Oh you have a precious one there, young man.”

Kon feels himself blush at the comment, but then the woman is looking at him with a frown, “Hope you don’t mind me asking, but why is he dressed that way?”

For the second time Kon’s mind goes blank. He hadn’t prepared for this! Damn it, he really should have thought about this beforehand, of course someone was going to question him! He knew it was suspicious from the start, but he hadn’t done anything to mentally prepare himself for it! This is going to end so badly.

When he doesn’t answer straight away the woman narrows her eyes at him and gives him a suspicious look. She goes to say something but is cut off by the same high-pitched voice as earlier, “Daddy said our house burnt down and we lost everything. I have no more clothes. So, we came shopping to get new ones and daddy said that I can have whatever I wanted!”

The woman looks down at Tim and Kon sees her features soften up, “I’m sorry to hear that sweetie. I bet you’re missing your home, now aren’t you?”

Tim shakes his head, “Nuh-uh. I don’t like the place anyway. Daddy says that our new place will be better. He says that a playground is nearby, and I get to play on it when we go there.” He grins up at them.

“That sure sounds exciting!” She says with fake enthusiasm, that’s obviously put on for kids. She’s then looking at Conner and says in her normal voice, “I’m sorry, I thought that-”

Catching onto Tim’s lie, Conner cuts her off, “It’s okay, it couldn’t have been helped. The clothes he was wearing at the time got burnt so we had to wrap him up in those for the times being. That’s why we’re here now, to get new ones.”

The woman is now looking at him sympathetically and it makes Kon feel off for some reason. He tries to shrug it off, “Yeah, well, we better get on now.” He hints for the woman to go but when she doesn’t move away from them, Conner takes hold of the trolley and starts to push it, “Thank you for the offer but I’ll manage.” He says to her. He turns and continues on down the aisle, thinking about it he’s sure he seen the shoes down this end.

A few beats later he glances over his shoulder and sees the woman starting to walk away in the opposite direction and he lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. He turns his attention back on Tim who is looking up at him a smug smile, well at least he thinks that’s what it’s supposed to be.

“You’re welcome.” Tim says.

Yeah it was a smug smile.

“Dude I actually am going to thank you for that. So, thanks.” He says. “How did you come up with that anyway? Also, nice acting, who knew you could act like a child when it really comes down to it.”

“I figured we were going to need a cover storey from the moment we left my apartment, so I got thinking and thought of one when we arrived here. And shut up! I can act when I need to!”

Kon’s attention is drawn away from Tim when they reach the shoes and once again he’s struck with the same issue as before, he has no clue what size Tim is. He turns back to Tim, “Right what size do you think you are?”

Tim looks at him before looking over the selection of shoes. After a moment he’s stretching and pointing, “Them ones.” Kon reaches for the pair Tim is pointing to, Tim sighs, “No not them, the ones to the left. Another left. Yeah those.”

Kon picks them off the shelf and looks at them, they’re just plain black and Velcro strap. At first, he gapes at the size of the shoe, it’s so small and It makes his hand look ginormous as he holds it in the middle of his palm! It’s amazing that a person could be so small. Of course Kon never actually went through this stage in life himself, but if Tim meant what he said about them raising kids together then he’s looking forward to actually buying these for them and watching them grow up.

Once he realises the style of shoe that Tim has chosen Kon rolls his eyes, of course Tim would be dull and pick the most boring pair of shoes out of all the colourful ones around. Moving in front of Tim he bends down and opens the shoe up and then starts to put it on the toddler. Thankfully Tim doesn’t cause a scene as Kon squeezes the shoe onto the foot. Once he’s done he straps it up and looks up at Tim, “How does that feel?” Tim moves his foot around and Kon sees him wiggle his toes inside.

“That’s fine.” Tim comments. Kon nods and takes the shoe off his foot and places the pair in the trolley, it’s only then he gets an idea. Moving away from the trolley and ignoring Tim’s call he searches the shoes looking for something. They’ve got to have them here, they got to –

“Ah-ha!” He exclaims excitedly when he finds them, he looks through them and picks up a pair the same size as the other pair. He places them in the trolley ignoring Tim’s questions on what he just found. If he told Tim what they really were he would have a fit, so Kon will leave it as a surprise until he comes to wear them.

Grabbing the trolley once again, he starts to push it and soon enough they get to the end of the aisle. Conner realises that they need to go back up and head back to the clothes section as they have yet to grab anything. From where he was Kon stops walking and starts to turn the trolley around, it’s a lot more difficult than he thought it would be. The 180 he was trying to do was nearly a success but as it came to the last bit, the trolley sit the edge of a stand with a loud clang. Wincing, Kon backs up a little and carries on turning until he finishes the 180.

Taking a breath he starts to push the trolley back through the aisle, “Was it really that hard?” Tim questions from his seat. 

Kon refuses to look at him, “Shut up.” Is all he says. 

Tim laughs, "Seriously Kon, you've battled the most powerful people on the planet, you are one of the most powerful people on the planet and yet a simple shopping trolley was difficult for you to manoeuver."

Kon chooses not to comment, he was made to fight things, he was made to replace Superman. This, shopping and domestic stuff, it's new to him. It's going to take a bit of getting used to.

They reach back at the clothes section and once again Kon asks Tim, “What size do you think you are?” Tim unhelpfully shrugs and Kon rubs a hand against his forehead, “Helpful. I think we’re just going to have to guess here then. See anything you like?”

Tim looks over the clothes but after a while Tim shakes his head, “No.”

Kon lets out a sigh knowing what the real problem was, “Tim there isn’t a lot here. You’re going to have to suck up your pride and wear some of these clothes.” Tim turns him and sends him a glare. Glaring back Kon tells him, “Pick your self or I will choose everything for you.”

Thankfully Tim doesn’t argue instead he just turns back to the clothes and starts to point some out. Kon picks up five different t-shirts that Tim chose and then five different pairs of pants. They pick out two different sets of pyjamas for him, (one justice league themed and the other batman themed much to Tim’s disapproval), they get him three different jackets, multiple pairs of socks and children’s underwear. Kon looks through everything to double check that they’ve got the essentials, believing they have he starts to move out of the aisle, but as he does there’s a few t-shirts that grab his attention. Smirking to himself he reaches over and picks up two of them, he shows them to Tim, “Make a choice because we’re definitely getting you one of these.”

Tim’s eyes widen at the shirt of the shirts, he’s then shaking his head, “No way. You are not putting me in neither of those.”

Kon looks back at shelves and spots more, he reaches over to grab one, “What about this one then?”

“Absolutely not.”

Kon looks at the t-shirts in his hands, Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman designs cover the front. Glancing at Tim’s disgusted look, he shrugs and puts all three in the trolley. Tim may not like it but at least Kon will get a few kicks out of it.

Happy with what’s in the trolley Kon heads to pay for everything. He just hopes that all the clothes fit him because they’ve just estimated with sizing, but either way if the clothes are too big on Tim at least they’ll fit better than what he’s got on now. Kon’s not too worried about the cost of everything, a bonus of having a stinky rich boyfriend who allows you to use their card every now and again, so really Tim is paying for it and not Kon.

After once again getting questioned for Tim’s state of dress and paying for the items Kon and Tim leave the shop with three full bags. Kon puts Tim on his shoulders and carries the bags in both hands, he walks a good distance away from the shop and out of sight of anyone else before lifting up into the air and once again heading for Metropolis.