#shes not allowed to go in the front to get the spotlight cos over her are liek 50000 guyss who do absolutely nothing

[yuudamari]

ill be like idc about jjk and its true but then i see satoru and suguru and its over

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 38

  PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: angst, smut (18+), oral (male receiving), handjob, slight innocence kink 

A/N: not me still not fully recovered from the “you wanna see what i can do with leverage” moment. oof, still gets me heated up. anyway, this smut was mostly inspired by my pinterest board showing me this and this which i feel would be something y/n would wear for bucky. enjoy xx 

NEXT CHAPTER

She didn’t know she was running, but she was. She ran off that room before he could catch up to her but through the middle of her thoughts she could hear him yell out for her and run after her. Maybe it was an adrenaline rush, the thought of getting severely hurt or any other thing but she had managed to outrun him, running into the main corridor where everyone was awaiting for the judge to announce the results. As Mr. Hawthorn screaming her name registered in her brain, she rushed to Bucky, taking him by surprise. Out of instinct he wrapped his arms around her, looking down to see her hiding her face in his chest. 

As Bucky started to wonder why she had suddenly appeared and even why she had left in the first place, Mr. Hawthorne made his way down the hall yelling out her name made it all the much clearer. Bucky held her slightly behind his back, hand tightly holding hers as the man made his way to them. Bucky held out his metal arm in front of him, stopping Hawthorne from getting any closer to her. 

     - Give me that phone, Y/N. Now. - he wasn’t yelling, his tone was constant as he starred both Bucky and Y/N down. She moved her phone behind her back, typing while maintaining eye contact with the agency director. - I said ...

      - Back off, man. - Bucky tried to remain calm, he knew having a major fight or even yelling at the man in front of him wouldn’t put him in a good spot. However, he’d be caught dead if he allowed that man to even dare to touch his wife.

      - C’mon, Y/N. You wanna play with leverage? At least step away from your guard dog and confront me or are you already too comfortable with being a housewife? 

      - You wanna see what I can do with leverage? - Bucky pushed him slightly backwards but Y/N stopped him before he could do anything else, squeezing his hand and handing out the man in front of the two of them her phone. Before Bucky could even complain about getting her phone back, Mr. Hawthorne left the two of them in a fast pace. - What the fuck was that? What did he do? Why did you give him your phone? 

      - Trust me, okay? - she cupped his face, leaning her forehead against his when she wasn’t even sure if what she did was going to work. Her eyes darted slightly across the hall, seeing Chuck with the lawyer but quickly returned to Bucky. - I love you. 

      - What’s wrong, princess?  Hm? What did he do to you?

      - I love you too would’ve been nice, Buck. - she teased.

      - You know I love you too that’s not the point. You’re trying to distract me. Don’t shut me out. 

      - I am not shutting you out, Bucky. Nothing happened, it’s fine ... he’s just ... upset at me. 

      - Why is he upset at you? 

      - I ...

      - Mr. Barnes. - the lawyer approached the two of them, interrupting her just  as she was about to start her sentence. - The judge has called everyone in, let’s go. 

      - Has the jury made a decision? - Y/N’s grip on Bucky’s hand tightened and she was almost frozen on the spot as he started to walk to back to the court room, but she didn’t move. 

      - Hey, it’s just us, princess. Just us. - Bucky smiled at her, kissing the top of her head but she could barely register things.

She couldn’t hear anything as the two of them walked to the court room’s door where they were separated again with Sharon, Steve, Sam and Chuck accompanying her to the bench while Bucky took off with the lawyer. She sat down on the harsh, cold wood, her heart beating fast as she tried to read Chuck’s face yet she couldn’t. The jury and judge arrived, and suddenly everyone was on their feet, waiting for whatever decision the jury had taken; however, the jury looked confused, almost puzzled by the fact they were back into the court room. 

      - It has come to my attention that further evidence as been found. As such, bailiff, take the witness Mr. Hawthorne into custody where he will be charged for the harassment and stalking of Y/N Barnes as well as obscuring justice. In the matter of The People vs James Buchanan Barnes, this case is dismissed. Mr. Barnes, you are free to go. 

A few oh my gods erupted into the court room which went into complete frenzy as the bailiff took Mr. Hawthorne into custody who merely stared her down and shouted out in disbelief. She turned over to Chuck who took his phone off his pocket and played the exact same audio which she had played to Hawthorne just a few minutes ago.

     - I could kiss you. - she hugged her friend, a big smile on her face.

     - Please, don’t. I am still largely afraid of your husband, he would crush me like a soda can. Do you want me to die such a painful death? After I had to somehow understand your typo filled text with the worse recorded audio I have heard. Sincerely, Y/N, Bucky would’ve done a better job and he is what? As old as dinosaurs?

     - You’re the best. - she kissed her friends cheek before going over to Bucky who was being swarmed by both his friends that had come to congratulate him, his lawyer and some reporters.

She smiled at him, standing in the back of the crowd and catching his eye despite everyone surrounding him. Bucky couldn’t care less about those people surrounding him, congratulating him and even some complaining that he once again had avoided paying for his mistakes. All she cared was catching her eye in the middle of the crowd, as if a spotlight shone onto her. 

     - I hope you enjoy being being out of a job for 10 years. - Mrs. Olson said as she passed by to probably be with Hawthorne but Y/N didn’t say anything. 

She knew what was on the line but she would throw it away for Bucky. If it came between Bucky being free or her career, she would always pick the first option. However, it didn’t sting any less.  Yet, this was not about her, not today. Today was Bucky’s day. The day where he got rid of the problem that she had brought upon the two of them and while it was now gone, it still occupied a tiny spot of her mind which screamed at her about her own guilt in this whole situation. The flashes were bright and she kept being pulled to the back as more journalists and reporters tried to get some time with the former Winter Soldier but he avoided them, breaking through the crowd to be with the only person he actually wanted to celebrate this with. 

    - What did you do, princess? - he wrapped his arms around her, turning to exit the court room and leave all this experience behind. - And don’t say it wasn’t you, the lawyer told me it was you.

    - He could be lying. 

    - You could’ve gotten hurt. Why didn’t you tell me? 

    - It was just a guess ... I didn’t want to raise your hopes over a guess. I’m sorry. - she leaned her head against his covered arm. - It’s my fault this whole thing happened and I thought if I fixed it, I’d feel better.

    - It’s not your fault this happened. You could’ve gotten hurt, he could’ve hurt you and then what?

   - He was not going to hurt me. - she scratched her neck. She knew it was a lie, everyone is capable of everything in her business. - I had to do something for you. I am ... I am so tired of being weak. 

    - You’re not weak, what are you talking about?

    - Weren’t you in this trial? They talked about you as if you were some cold blooded murderer and me as if I were the weakest person ever. As if I wasn’t standing in that room and hearing to it. If I could defend myself, if I had put my foot down none of this would’ve happened. 

Bucky’s heart broke as he heard her talk, tears pooling in her eyes as what she had been feeling for the past weeks of meeting, court days and witness speeches seemed to finally explode, breaking free from the pressure she had been putting on it so it didn’t show, so she didn’t feel weak. He had never felt weak before, helpless maybe but never weak. Even as the Winter Soldier he could easily overpower his handlers if he wanted to, he could overpower new recruits and pretty much everyone who he was presented with. He’d never felt weak, he’d never know what it was like to feel weak and he had never even considered she felt weak because he just did not see her as weak. She was soft but not weak, she had strength in her softness, in her kindness. She’d done things he couldn’t see himself doing in his mid twenties. 

     - Hey ... - he flushed her close to him, drawing invisible circles on her back and kissing her temple. - Do you wanna get cheesy chips?

     - I need to go say goodbye ...

     - It’s fine. - he combed her hair away from her face to kiss her forehead. - I don’t want you to get caught up in a mess with photographers. 

     - I’m ridiculous. - she cuddled against his side as he led her out the back of the court where he had parked his car. - I should be comforting you, not the other way around.

     - You’re not ridiculous. This was as bad for me as it was for you. - he opened the car door for her. - Besides, I love comforting you. 

     - Really? Because from what I know, you were the one in danger of being in prison for at least 5 years. The only danger for me was trying to get naked during spousal visits. 

     - Aw, princess. You were willing to get naked in prison, for me?

     - You’re ridiculous, Barnes. 

     - So are you, Mrs. Barnes. - he smirked. - You are not weak and you are not ridiculous. Are we clear? 

     - Don’t use your sergeant voice on me.

Bucky chuckled, putting the key onto the engine and turning it on as the car started to roar up. She leaned her head against his shoulder, mindlessly listening to the song on the radio, probably one of Bucky’s favourites. On that moment, she didn’t care her career was on hold for the next 10 years because he was here and he was free like he deserved. As he pulled in front of the chippy shop nearby his flat, she perked her head up to kiss the corner of his mouth. 

    - Can we do takeaway? I wanna go home. - she cuddled against his shoulder once more. 

    - Sure, princess. Stay in the car and I’ll be right back, yeah?

    - Yeah. 

He left the car, loosening his tie as he entered the shop, leaving Y/N in the car. She rose her hand up, looking at the wedding band on her finger. It had barely registered in her that she was married, she of all people. She knew she wasn’t attention’s sweet centre and she knew she definitely did not deserve a guy like Bucky. God, in her wildest dreams she’d never thought she’d even end up with a man as caring and thoughtful as he is. It was almost surreal she’d even gotten married without having to fight her agency, at least too much. Her lips stretched in a smile as her husband came out of the shop, a toothy, childish grin on his lip as he waved the brown paper bag on his way to the car door.

He drove the two of them back to the flat and once they were inside, her shoes were thrown to one side as well as his tie and jacket and the couple made themselves comfortable on the couch. Y/N sat on Bucky’s lap, takeaway on her lap while he held his on his hand with the other searched for something to watch on TV, eventually landing on The Honeymooners.

    - I need to take you on a honeymoon. 

    - I don’t need a honeymoon. 

    - Bullshit. - he held her close by, hearing her giggle through the small digs onto the plastic container. - Where do you wanna go? C’mon, entertain me. 

    - Hm ... - she looked up, nose slightly scrunched. - Italy. 

    - I was stationed in Italy for a while. Nice place, great food. Where about?

    - There’s this movie called Letters to Juliet, it’s in Verona, and I always thought it looked so romantic. 

    - Okay, princess. Whenever you want, I’ll take you to Verona and we will have a nice month long honeymoon. 

    - Month long? 

    - Yeah. If we go any less, we won’t have time to do any sight seeing. 

    - Why is that?

    - Because I do intend to have sex with you in every part of the hotel we stay in. - he kissed the crook of her neck, taking the takeaway container away from her and placing it on the coffee table. - Maybe even try it in those tiny Italian balconies.

    - You just escaped five years of prison and you’re thinking of vouyerism already?

    - You shouldn’t look so pretty, then. - he hooked his finger under her chin and turned her face towards him, giving her a long drawn out kiss. His hand climbed up from her thigh up to her dress, pushing the sleeve down to expose her shoulder. His stubble rubbed against her soft kiss as he laid a kiss on the subtle skin of her shoulder.

   - Mhm, Buck ... - her hand pushed his shoulder back and he immediately pouted. - I have to shower. I smell like the dusty, mouldy court room and I’d like that smell off me. 

    - Mind if I join? - he pulled the sleeve off her other shoulder but she held her dress against her chest before it could fall down. - I can give you a massage.

   - If I allow you with me in the shower, there will be no showering. - she got off his lap, pushing her dress up. - I’ll be back. Try to keep the pouting to the minimum until I’m back. 

   - Just so you know, you’ll need another shower after you’re back. 

Y/N rolled her eyes, before padding into the bathroom, leaving Bucky on his own in the living room shuffling through various channels. The shower on the background was running until it was running for too long, Bucky turned his head around, looking at the door that led to the bathroom.

    - Princess, everything ok? - he prepared to get up and check on her but was. interrupted by her opening the door.

She stood against the door wedge with her typical shyness which made her so endearing to anyone who met her, yet, this time, it was something other than endearment that Bucky was feeling when looking at her. She was dressed in a white corset and knickers with a small floral print and small pink ruffles at the edge of her underwear. The corset was also adorned with a blue ribbon and small blue bow, everything covered in with one of her many short satin robes that she normally used over her pyjamas or over one of Bucky’s shirt which always looked like a dress on her. 

    - Were you wearing that ... - he cleared his throat, trying not to stare at her perky chest. - Were you wearing that today? 

    - No, I bought this one in case you won. - she closed the door of the bathroom behind her, padding barefoot over to the couch, standing in front of him, her robe slightly slipping of her shoulder. - Do you like it? 

    - Fucking hell, princess. - he leaned forward, hands wrapping around her waist to pull her close to him. 

    - It looks silly, doesn’t it? I don’t know, I just thought I’d wear something nice and do so ... - Bucky interrupted her rambling by kissing her, his hands pushing the robe fully off her and throwing it somewhere in the living room. His hands massaged her thighs and upper body until they were cupping her face, kissing her as if he hadn’t seen in her in ages. 

Her hands rest upon his shoulder, lips melded against his in a long, drawn out kiss. She whined as Bucky moved his lips from hers to her jaw and slightly under it, sucking the subtle and sensitive skin he found there. She allowed herself to get lost in the feeling of his slight stubble against her sensitive skin, drawing kisses and leaving hickeys with slightly rough lips. His hands scouted her corset for the square brackets, loosening the garment and pulling it over her head before leaning to kiss her again. She smiled against the kiss, breaking it to look at him which greatly annoyed Bucky, who tried to kiss her again. 

    - No... - she pushed him back against the couch as he tried to kiss her collarbones. Her hands toyed with the fabric of his shirt, fingers trailing up and down his chest. - Let me do something for you.

    - Princess ... - she ignored his pleas and attempts to pull her in and distribute more kisses all over her body.

Instead she climbed off his lap, standing on her knees in front of him, eyes looking up to him with a devious like innocence which was intoxicating to him. Her hands ran up his thighs, nails racking over the fabric of his trousers until they reached his belt. She bite her lip, unbuckling the accessory and tossing it aside before pushing his trousers down along with his underwear. She gripped his cock in her hand, her finger swiping the pre-cum off his tip before he started to move her hand slowly up and down.

    - Oh fuck ... - Bucky groaned, throwing his head back with his eyes shut. She smirked at this reaction, continuing to move her hand up and down in a painfully slow motion. 

Bucky groaned and moaned, head pressed against the headrest of the couch, eyes closed and lips opened. Her confidence grew at the sight of her completely blissed out husband and she stopped her motions. Before Bucky could whine about it, she kitten licked his tip before licking a broad stripe up his cock eliciting a low grumble from him. He looked down at his wife through half closed eyes, locking eye contact with her. Y/N gave him an innocent smile with innocent eyes before taking him in her mouth. Bucky breathed out, high gasp as his hand gripped onto the couch cushions. He moved his hips forward unconsciously, his cock hitting the back of her throat. She breathe through her nose as she bobbed her head up and down his cock slowly, cheeks hollowed out as she made it upon the spot. 

   - Fuck, princess. Fuck, you’re so good, fucking hell. - Bucky breath harshly as she picked up the pace, her movements almost matching up with his breathing tempo until she started to vigorously suck his tip, getting him almost shaking before returning to take him inside her mouth once more. - Fuck, stop. Stop. 

  - Did I do something wrong? - she pushed her hair behind her ears.

  - Come here. - Bucky helped her up and on top of his lap, pushing her underwear down her legs before he did so. She held herself up by holding onto his shoulders, staying slightly taller than him as he holstered her up. 

She looked down as he looked up, his eyes gazing onto hers as he lowered her down onto his hard cock, silencing her whimpers with a consuming kiss. Her skin seemed to flush hot and cold at the same time as he filled her to a halt. Bucky let her accommodate to his size, kissing down from her lips to her collarbones.

    - Fuck, you’re pretty. - he panted, moving to kiss her neck while his hands held her still. - So fucking pretty, princess.

    - Bucky, please ... move. - she hide her head in the space between his shoulder and neck, a hot flush settling in her cheeks. 

    - I’m not gonna ... fuck ... I’m not gonna move if you hide, princess. - he spoke through moans, voice strained due to the grip of her walls around him, pulsating. - Look at me, look at me when I’m fucking you. Let me see your pretty face. 

Y/N whined, moving to look at him as he flushed her chest against his. She probably looked a mess yet had no time to worry about that once he started to push her hips up and down on him, eventually leading her into riding him. Her hand slide from his shoulder to his chest as she bounced on top of him, the sound of skin slapping against each other along with the moans and groans of both of them as they chased their high. She felt her own walls pulsating with each thrust, her lower belly coiling up as she continued to move up and down his cock as if she were going to die if she stopped. She gasped and whined, continuing with her movements as the coil continued to tighten up and her movements sped up. 

   - That’s it, princess. Such a good girl. - he moaned against her ear, silencing some of her moans with messy, wet kisses. - You wanna cum on my cock, hm? I know you want to.

   - Buck ... - her gasp was high as her walls spasmed and her body tensed. The grip on his dick led him over the edge just a few seconds later and he pulled her completely flush against him, feeling him cum fill her up and leak onto both hers and his thighs. She hide her head on the crook of his neck, mewling while she regained her breathe. 

Bucky chuckled through his breathlessness before slipping out of her which caused her to let out a small whine before he laid her down on the couch, arms wrapped around her. 

   - Make that a 3 month long honeymoon. - he cuddled her against his chest. 

   - How much of that will be sex? - she looked up, completely blissed out.

   - You’ll get a week of sightseeing if you keep pulling this on me.  

   - Right. - she rolled her eyes. - I forget that you are old and cannot take this much excitement. 

   - Are you teasing me, Mrs. Barnes?

   - Maybe. - there it was, the little playful smirk he loved so much. 

   - Oh, princess ... - he lifted her up as he got up from the couch, walking towards their bedroom. - You’re gonna regret that. 

taglist: @disasterbi @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @oh-nohoney @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverratedbutgreat @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche @vicmc624 @itsallyscorner @chipilerendi @emzd34 @writerwrites @bluevxnus @that-girl-named-alex @captnrogers @nsfwsebbie @sarge-barnes-sir @niki-is-a-thing @cynic-spirit @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @buckyswillow​

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct Chapter Eight

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 5,600

Warnings: Language as always, mentions of drinking, alcohol and drunkenness, mentions of sex OH AND HEARTBREAK

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

The right person, the wrong time.

The right script, the wrong line.

The right poem, the wrong rhyme.

And a piece of you

That was never mine

K Towne Jr.

Chapter 8

The black topped streets of Lewisham radiate the day’s spring sunshine as if intent upon sending the heaven sent warmth back up through Marcus’ soles. The evening’s golden light creates a love song in his heart - one that morphs from the irritation and melancholy of the morning to a happier more uplifting tune.

When did that mood change? Oh yes, that embrace.

Nush.

Marcus hadn’t realised just how low his battery was for touch until you threw your arms around him. How much much he’d needed your body close to his again. Feeling your softness against him, inhaling your intoxicating scent. How he’d longed to kiss your forehead and stroke your hair in that cuddle. Remembering the pain of breaking that contact, plastering on a smile and kicking himself for it.

Constantly having to watch his need for your touch and tempering it within the normal parameters for a working relationship, Marcus has found himself reaching out for you- making excuses to touch you as you passed him, finding imaginary eyelashes on your face. Being around you felt like a breath that he was unable to release, continuously having to dampen down his natural instincts to hold and stroke you.

Kiss you.

Taste you.

Had he been back in the States, he would have said fuck it and asked you out, but that didn’t exactly go well last time. The pain of knowing exactly what he wants and it just being beyond the reach of his fingertips plagues Marcus daily with the dream of coming home to be loved, nurtured and protected and offer it in return. How do you ever allow yourself to become vulnerable to that risk of failure again? One thing he is certain of, is your current ignorance of the true level of his feelings. The kindness you show others - so much care for everyone around you, albeit through a thinly veiled layer of sarcasm and swearing- and the love your friends show for you, demonstrate that you would be nothing but clear if he was to reveal his true feelings.

Squeezing politely through the crowds, between the narrow shack-like stalls of the fairy-light illuminated market, Marcus heads towards the Highline where Andy had told each of you to meet him. Before he could start climbing the staircase up, a large hand grasps his upper arm, another patting the space between his shoulder blades. Marcus spins, slightly surprised by the touch, to be greeted by Andy’s grinning face.

“Looking good, Sir. Bit sharper than at lunch today,” Andy observes, giving Marcus’ leather jacket, Henley and indigo jeans a once over, “and before you complain, I am going to get you a beer because of the day you’ve had. You can do your management thing of buying the first round in a bit, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

With Andy’s face explicitly telling Marcus not to disagree with him, he nods, definitely needing that drink. As they head together towards the bar, they are both absorbed into the throng of a hundred voices holding loud conversations as they compete with the soundtrack from the decks. The crowd is a mixed bag of teenagers, students and families - the children chasing or trying to catch the sparkling spotlights as their parents reminisce over large gin and tonics about lie-ins and late nights not hunched over a crib.

Winding their way through the laughing and dancing bodies, they head in the direction of the alcohol to order some locally brewed ales, bumping into an already buzzing Kiritopa at almost the front of the queue. After a round of handshakes, back slaps and hearty laughs, they edge ever closer to their goal of amber nectar. Before their drinks are poured, Marcus’ eyes scan the market for the rest of the team when they are caught by a flash of colour. Bright turquoise stockings, a mustard corduroy pinafore, red and white striped T-shirt - oh, it isn’t you. Your wildly coloured legs bring so much colour to his day and they are the first thing he checks as he enters the office. Elbow nudges and a pint glass from Andy brings his attention back to the men in front of him for a quick cheers-ing of glasses before heading out of the melée.

The table on the Highline that Andy had reserved was utterly perfect. It afforded a bird’s eye view of the market - a true dream come true for any avid people watchers, whilst also allowing everyone to talk and be heard by each other with its one storey elevation from the thronging crowds. Andy and Kiritopa are animatedly talking with each other lounging amongst the piles of cushions and blankets on the pallet seating, while Marcus leans against the walkway, clutching his beer, staring off into the urban sprawl of concrete car parks and fried chicken restaurants but only looking for one face.

“Hey, what time do you call this...Whoa - Nush, is that makeup? On your face?” Andy’s eyes are utterly saucer-like in this discovery.

“Hush your mouth - she did it to me,” you jab your finger in Dian’s direction, pouting your lips at the indignation and as Andy goes to make another quip, you add- shoving some chips in his mouth, “Dirty masala fries- thought we’d need something to line our tummies this evening. Although equally, they’ll do a wonderful job of keeping some people’s mouths shut!”

“I think I did a great job- she looks stunning!” having put three portions on the table, Dian steps back to admire her handiwork as you pull a duck face pout at her.

She always looks beautiful.

“So, what’s on these fries?” Marcus asks as he desperately tries to avoid the other thoughts running through his head of how that pencil skirt runs along the curve that falls and rises from your waist to your hips beautifully or the horizontal stripes of your t-shirt - an outfit winning in its quest to distract.

As for that goddamn red lipstick…

It would leave a mark all around my-

“Ok, so they’re skinny French fries with spices shaken over them and a dollop of channa masala on top. Oh and that white shit is garlic mayo to dip them in,” you grin broadly as you pass him a portion - the picant vibrancy of the food telling stories of the fresh, bold flavours to come. Always being a believer in food being one of the ways that you can love a person, the mouthful of potatoes, spices and chickpeas envelops Marcus in an all encompassing hug. His belly sings with happiness with each mouthful he consumes, his tongue delightfully tingling from the chilli powder.

“Y’know Nush. Not had one of your curries for a while,” Andy not-so gently hints.

Marcus can’t help but raise his eyebrows, “Nush, you make curries? How many other hidden talents?”

“She also plays the piano and did ballet until she was fifteen,” Andy adds, ducking as you lob a cushion at him - your face reddened with a mixture of embarrassment and rage.

“Badly according to my mother,” you say, rolling your eyes as you shove another mouthful in, “Mine aren’t particularly elegant but they are edible. Well they are now anyway - there was one, a keema matar, that I made as a kid where I didn’t realise that chili develops over time. Put in roughly five tablespoons by the end. Could have been used for chemical warfare. Never lived it down but it got me out of cooking for a while.”

The table explodes in uproarious laughter, earning several odd looks from the patrons nearby.

“Well, I’m considering this an invitation to try one of your edible curries as you so eloquently call them,” Kiritopa rubs his belly in anticipation, chuckling at your modesty, “When can we get a date in the book?”

“I love a good curry, so count me in,” Dian chimes in as she pops the chickpeas like sweets into her mouth.

Marcus watches you shift uncomfortably in the spotlight of demands from your co-workers, “If I do this, I need a bigger space to work in as I can’t fit you all in my flat. I’ll need to borrow somewhere that can fit more bums.”

“Could use my apartment to cook and host, if you like?” Marcus proffers, secretly hopeful at trying some of your dishes and perhaps more than a little excited at the thought of spending some one on one time with you.

“Shall we do Sunday evening, if nothing turns up from work?” Kiritopa asks hopefully.

Marcus shrugs by way of confirmation, catching your gaze, drinking in the swirl of colours in your iris, to give you a nod.

With a sigh and a roll of the eyes, you exclaim, “Andy- what the fuck have you started? You’ve all grossly overestimated my skills, and now I am going in search of alcohol to dull my senses and make poor decisions,” you dramatically announce with a theatrical bow, “What can I get everyone?”

Seeing an opportunity open up, Marcus touches your arm as you go to leave, “It’s my round. Help me carry them?”

“Deal,” Marcus feels his heart grow as he sees your smile reach every corner of your face.

Before reaching the top of the stairs, Marcus moves himself around to walk in front of you. His body on an autopilot of manners. On reaching the bottom step, he reaches back - unthinkingly - to grab your hand so as not to lose you amongst the multitude drinking, eating and dancing the night away. The momentary panic that spread at the thought of you rejecting him recedes as your fingers thread between his.

Sending a warm smile at you over his shoulder, you follow in the wake of him quietly.

The people near the bar are flowing like rivers, never stopping for obstacles but twirling, swirling around them nevertheless Marcus guides you through, never letting go. The noise of the chatter and throb of the music surrounds you, not allowing for much verbal communication so he settles for small movements and gestures with the hand that is holding yours. When you finally arrive at the queue by the bar, that is when you can speak a bit more freely albeit in theatrical whispers in each other’s ears.

Marcus watches how the evening breeze kisses you, blowing the strands of your growing-out fringe into your face. How you gaze around and observe people whilst also managing to make him feel like he’s the only person there. The way your eyes crease into crescents when you laugh or smile and how much he wishes he could thank all those people jostling you into him. But like all moments with you, it ends too quickly as soon you’re both heading upriver against the current with your trays of drinks.

“Nush, I’ve always thought it was some kind of miracle that you never spill alcohol,” Andy teases you as you bring the drinks to their owners.

“Hah! I don’t waste the good stuff,” you mutter indignantly, “Although perhaps if we want to protect the office carpets, I should…”

“No,” Marcus mock-sternly interjects at the thought of you being drunk and the chaos that would bring, “No day drinking at work, Nush. I’d prefer the coffee stains.”

Your pout and subsequent upward glance through your eyelashes, makes Marcus turn towards the railings, hiding his thoughts in his beer.

Fuck, Nush.

If you only knew what you do to me.

“Hey Kiri, isn’t it? You playing in the tourney tomorrow?” a deep, cut glass accent calls out, cutting through the crowds surrounding them. Marcus turns towards where the sound is coming from and as he does, he catches a strange look cross your face.

“What the fuck are you doing here and how the fuck do you know Kiritopa?” The tone of your voice, narrowed eyes and furrowed brow makes Marcus turn back towards the group inquisitively.

“Nush! Haven’t seen you in a long time but you are looking amazing,” the voice is attached to a face, the kind that would stop anyone in their tracks, “can barely recognise you with makeup on- you should wear it more often.”

You breathlessly mutter, “Fuck off, that’s never going to happen.”

Good girl. Don’t put up with that BS. You’re better than that.

“I know Seb through rugby training,” then tilting his head quizzically, Kiritopa asks, “How do you know him?”

“Since school isn’t it, so what? Roughly twenty years? Through her brother, Adam as we played rugger together. Although, despite such a long time friendship, you wouldn’t let me in your knickers until more recently,” Seb shoots you a wink from over his beer.

The words burn through Marcus as he considers your connection with this man - his eyes narrowing, lips thinning. Loneliness echoing through his racing heart. He hadn’t considered you seeing anyone else- even for the briefest of dalliances but then not everyone is a serial long term monogamist.

Of course you’d have needs, you are an adult woman.

I just wish you’d explore them with me.

“Every now and then it’s nice to have an orgasm attached to a pulse that isn’t delivered by a battery,” you deliver, utterly deadpan.

Seb pretends to be mortally wounded by your words, playing dead into the chair next to yours, languidly flopping his limbs around. Oh, how Marcus would like to wipe that stupid smug smirk off his face!

For fuck’s sake, Pike. Why didn’t you sit next to her when you had the chance?

White knuckles wrapped around his nearly empty pint glass, Marcus silently watches as Seb desperately works to get your attention whilst you chat animatedly with Dian and Andy while Kiri downs the rest of his beer. He hasn’t noticed the pretty young woman with bouncing corkscrew curls observing him from amongst her friends on the next table along.

“Hey. You look like you could do with a drink, can I get you one?”

Abruptly removed from his poorly concealed glowering, Marcus raises his eyebrows in surprise at this question, pausing for some time before realising that it was aimed at him.

“Oh, look don’t worry. It was just a silly thought...” the beautifully tight curls go to withdraw from view and return to their friends.

“No, I’m sorry. I was lost in thought,” Marcus offers apologetically, “It’s been a day from hell. Let me get you a drink.”

“Wanted to talk to you as I was a bit concerned that you were about to break that glass with how tightly you were gripping it. Glass is an arse to get out of wounds so thought it better to save your hands before you come visit me in A&E,” she gently proposes, “There are better places to spend Friday nights!”

Welcoming the pretty distraction from his destructive thoughts, Marcus’ cheeks dimple as he nods, “I can imagine. Are you a doctor?”

“Yeah, for my sins,” she amusedly huffs, “And on a rare night out, so shall we go get that drink? I’m Kemi, by the way.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Oh, how you long to rip the makeup from your face! As a child, it had been a form of let’s pretend that turned into a mask to hide behind as a young adult as you experimented with finding your true self. Now, that you are established in your womanhood, you feel no need to add layers to your face other than when you are convinced it would be fun by a fast-becoming firm friend.

When Sebastian made a remark about how pretty you looked with the makeup, it made you want to run to the loo right then and there to claw it from your skin.

And what the ever loving fuck is he doing here? Fucking Sebastian of all fucking people, who you accidentally keep finding yourself fucking. You’d just come around to the idea that it might be ok to occasionally go out with people from work but when they meet people from your everyday life - your home life - that isn’t ok. Especially when that person is just a hate fuck. Great in bed but an odious human being as you can’t be that handsome and a decent person, it seems.

Unless you’re Marcus Fucking Pike.

Who is now grabbing a drink with an absolute goddess of a woman.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint why it had hurt so much when he’d walked off with her but there was such an ache deep in your tummy that could not be ignored. Between that and the appearance of fucking Sebastian, you just want to jump on the 178 home and throw on your jammies, curling up under the shit crocheted throw that you’d made during your leave - more holes than stitches. If it wasn’t for Dian, you would already be on your way there, demolishing something unhealthy from UberEats, glugging a wine or two.

Dian seems to pick up on your drop in mood and decides that it’s time for a trip to the tequila bar. With Andy’s husband now joining your rag-tag gang, you agree to chase some bitter hits of alcohol. As you wind your way among the dancers and drinkers, you see him standing by one of the upturned kegs, laughing at something she has said. You catch his eye, plaster on a smile and send him a wink in the hope that your wish for him to have fun seems genuine.

You sign to him whether he wants a drink but a small shake of his head tells you all you need to know before Dian tugs your hand back in the direction of the bar. Standing in front of the bartender, a moment of sadness washes over you until Kiri passes the salt, Seb licks your hand and the rest of the evening finally takes a softer tone after one, two, three.

The tequila in your tummy makes it hard to concentrate on what Dian and Kiri are chatting about while the three of you curl tipsily upon the comfy cushions as a large fluorescent pink, plastic sign declaring TREAT YO’SELF looms large over your heads. Excusing yourself to the loo, you walk past Marcus - steadfastly refusing any eye contact but ensuring he sees you. As you go to repeat the action on the return journey - not entirely sure as to why you feel the need to seek your boss’s attention - a hand goes to balance you as you walk down the final step.

“Whoa - steady, Nush,” you look up to see Marcus’ concerned face looking down at you.

“Hah! I’m ok. You having a good night?” You ask, your eyes searching his, “She’s truly stunning.”

“Yeah, um, were you guys doing shots?” he enquires, brow still furrowed.

“Yup. It's a really good tequila bar upstairs - should have joined us,” you jab him in the chest with an index finger, “So good that the world just looks like an impressionist painting. All swooshy and a little bit blurry.”

You watch Marcus scratching his neck, “Anyway, what on Earth are you doing here with me? Go get her, idiot.”

“Ah, here you are Bad Idea Puppy- thought you’d fallen asleep on the loo. Although that wouldn’t be the first time would it?” Sebastian brays, stepping between you and Marcus as he grabs your hand to lead you onto the dancefloor. Allowing yourself to be led away, you look back over your shoulder at him, mouthing go get her with a wink as if that would soften the pain that had appeared with her.

The music flows through you - the clearest way to communicate you have ever known- your body rolling and swaying with the sensuality of the music. Sebastian moves effortlessly around you thanks to his mother, who having had only sons, deciding that her youngest would get the dance lessons that she’d hoped the daughter she never had, would take. The two of you vent in movements all of what you could never be said between you or to anyone else aloud. As you twist together under the orange stained hazy night sky, you notice the goddess’ hand on Marcus’ face, stroking his cheek. The poisonous ache returns to your tummy and however your face contorts, causes Seb to pull you closer, cradling your head into his neck. You know how the night will end and the loneliness stings.

✪✪✪✪✪

His mouth bone dry, Marcus awakes fully dressed, on top of the comforter, with a cool bed surrounding him. Reaching for his phone, pulling the charging cable from it, he flicks through messages and emails trying to work out what had happened from when Kemi had left him in the bar to rejoin her friends. Her words still ring in his ears - you didn’t come alone tonight - when she had watched his eyes trace your path out of the market. How he’d initially thought about taking her up on her offer to help him forget, wanting to obliterate last night from his memory and lose himself in her eyes and lips. Her final words to him, cutting him to the core- she must be really special and if she is as special as you think she is, you fight for her.

Bloodshot eyes and deep creases stare back at him from the mirror. More grey. They say that age exchanges beauty for wisdom but they are the same mistakes he keeps repeating. A strangled gasp escapes him as he tries to regulate his breathing, lifting his chin trying to fill his lungs with more oxygen. His shoulders are racked by gut-wrenching sobs and like an overwhelmed dam, the tears spill in hot torrents down his cheeks. Marcus slides onto the floor, allowing the grief to pour forth.

His first marriage was too much, too soon, too young. An art historian and an artist in love with creating and observing beauty until the former decided to change tack after being recruited by the FBI. The long hours of training at Quantico, the subsequent hard days and irregular nights as he worked his way through the ranks of the Art Crime department, wrung the patience from his wife. Gradually growing further and further apart until all that was left were two strangers constantly at odds, her cutting comment about how she felt that he gave her only apathy - never coming to her when she needed help or affection. She hated him for the choices he made - feeling that his work was merely interacting with the meaningless. The law enforcer spent more time at work to hide from the inevitable ending until the artist found someone who appreciated her and the beauty she created.

As for Lisbon. Was she really ever his? Wasn’t he really just a footnote in the Patrick Jane story? The whirlwind romance that progressed and extinguished again at such a heart attack inducing pace, emphasised by that stupid-ass move to DC. Although, if it wasn’t for that move, he wouldn’t be here in London now. Oh yeah. That was out of the skillet and into the fire, Pike. Another excellent career move.

So much love to give and nowhere, no one to give it to. The lessons he has learnt and is still learning but oh, just to find that person with whom you can drop that mask and enjoy togetherness, warmth and serenity.

The side of the bath offers a solid cool support to Marcus as he sits there on the herringbone tiled floor, sobbing into his arms. There is only one voice he needs to hear right now. Grabbing a tissue from the side to noisily blow his nose into, he rubs the heels of his palms into his eyes before putting his glasses on. Phone in hand, he dials the number he knows better than his own name.

The familiar dial tone is like a lullaby in his ear, “Mamá?... Hey! How are you doing?... I’m sorry Mamá - I forgot about the time zone difference... I’m ok, just missing you… It’s just been a long week and... Yeah, London is awesome and I managed a trip to France this week which was incredible to be back there. So weird having so many different countries within such easy reach…Come visit me soon?... Thank you... I miss you… Te quiero mucho Mamá… I’ll ring you in a couple of days. Hasta luego.”

Hanging up, everything feels a bit more manageable and less painful- I wish I could bottle my Mamá’s voice. Hauling himself off the bathroom floor, he turns on the faucet to splash icy water on his face. Sniffing his t-shirt, realising the shower could wait - perhaps a good run to get the endorphins pumping would be his best move. Or perhaps a text to Nush to check what ingredients he’d need to have in for the curry tomorrow?

Stop it, Pike. You’re just fucking torturing yourself.

Opening a drawer, he pulls out basketball shorts, a clean t-shirt and a pair of sneaker socks to throw on, discarding last night’s clothes in a heap by the washing machine.

AirPods in and classic nineties dance anthems to pace himself to, he gives his quads and hamstrings a quick warm up by the front door before it is time to convert the emotional pain into miles.

One of the many things that Marcus loves about London is the constant greenery with every second corner a park or stretching heathland. Texas is so proud of its big sky country status and yet, there are parts of central London where you could lie down and not see anything but skies around you. It is truly hard not to fall in love with such a beautiful, historical and spacious city.

Pounding the pavements towards the park, his feet hit the concrete slabs softly, sending small shockwaves to his brain. Whilst Marcus knows that the power in his thighs could have him across the park in seconds, he savours each step. The precision in his movements is perfect as he takes lungful after lungful of the sunshine filled air. It feels like part of a meditation - a mindful prayer. Dodging around errant dogs and small, clumsy yet terrifyingly aggressive children on scooters, he winds his way through the avenues of trees until he comes across a small lake.

He pauses the thrumming music in his ears to just soak up the tranquility of the moment as he stretches out his limbs. The lake is the kindest of nature’s mirrors, never truly showing exactly what is above, but converting it to an image so beautifully smudgy. The weeping willow stroking its branches elegantly across the skin of the water, the clouds gliding silently above as a host of waterfowl paddle effortlessly through the cool, clear pool, all become a priceless Monet hanging in The National Gallery – all free for the looking. Sure, it is transient, changing by the day - unlike the fixed in a moment of time pieces by the grumpy old Frenchman - but that's what makes it all the more precious.

There’s a family by the water’s edge. Marcus can’t help but be amused by the toddler’s antics as they threaten to jump in and become irritated that they can’t, especially when they have their wellies on. Can’t fault that logic! The older child is gathering sticks to make a “campfire” with their dad - discarding most of their parent’s choices with withering looks and expressive rolls of the eyes. The dark-haired mom, whilst trying to reason with the toddler, is swaying with some sort of baby carrier tied around her - a tiny one clutched tightly to her chest. The infant is virtually invisible from the passes of material, only two tiny socks and its little woolly hat peeking free. A collie is also darting between and around them, rounding up his flock of sheep, taking his role as protector very seriously.

The scene makes Marcus smile as he stretches out his muscles. Whilst he can’t help but watch and yearn for something similar in his life, the mom looks up and over in his direction,

“Are you going to come over and say hi or just be a park weirdo that lurks in bushes pretending to stretch?” a familiar voice curtly teases.

Nush - what the fuck?

“Your face is a fucking picture! Take a breath - these are three of my five niblings - big one is Sophia, middle one that keeps threatening to swim in the pond is Alexa and this little dot is Oscar. As for that blundering idiot, this is Adam, my oldest brother- their dad,” gesturing towards your brother you giggle, creasing up in laughter at the sheer shock then relief on Marcus’ face, “Ads, this is Marcus, my new boss that I told you about.”

The male version of Nush outstretched his palm, offering a sympathetic look, “Hi Marcus, pleasure to put a face to a name. I’m so sorry that you have to put up with my cowbag-of-a-sister at work.”

Marcus can’t help but laugh at the friendly sniping between brother and sister, reminding him of his own teasing relationship with his sisters back home, “Hey! Your kids are beautiful. Oh, you must be Sebastian’s friend - who we saw at Model Market in Lewisham yesterday, Nush?” he questions.

“As much as Sebastian can have friends… Oh Nush, you didn’t, did you?” Adam’s face scrunches in disgust and judging in the way that only a sibling can do.

“No! Not this time,” Marcus loves the speed and vehemence to which you respond to your brother- and enjoys the sheer relief that is now guiltily coursing through his veins, “To give the man his dues, he won’t ever sleep with me when I’ve had too much to drink. Not that I was going to and not that it is any of your fucking business in the first place.” You add jabbing your brother in the softness of his tummy with every word you say.

“Nush, I was gonna text you this morning about tomorrow, if you’re still on to make the curries?” Marcus gently questions, willing you to agree.

“Hah! You’re trusting her to cook?” Adam laughs heartily at the suggestion, “I’m not sure that’s the best idea. Our mum still won’t let her near the chilli powder now.”

You growl at your brother, “I was a fucking kid at the time! And yes, I am more than happy to come and cook curries- what time suits you for me to come over? They do take a bit of time to make.”

Marcus struggles to hold back a snort of laughter, “Any time is good - and perhaps while they’re simmering, we can have some classic films on in the background?”

“Ah that sounds perfect,” your smile warming every inch of his skin.

“You sound perfect for her,” Marcus catches Adam muttering under his breath, his eyes widening at your brother’s comment.

“Shut your damn cakehole, twatface,” you slap your brother’s arm hard as you grind the words between your teeth, the two of you glaring with a mirror image of your eyebrows raised at each other.

“Um, I’d better continue my run before I cool down too much,” Marcus manages to spit out between the flushes of heat through his skin, “Great to meet you and your family, Adam. Nush, it’s lovely to see you and I’ll catch you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, Marcus,” you smile at him before turning back towards your niblings, who are working together to create a den using an old fallen branch.

“I saw you running earlier,” Adam adds, “You’ve got a really good gait - as a physio, it’s great to see someone not destroying their joints. Do you do anything to support your running through cross training?”

“Uh no, but that’s a good idea as I don’t want any injuries. What would you recommend?” Marcus asks, genuinely intrigued and flattered by your brother’s compliment of his running style.

“Speak to Nush - yoga is perfect for stretching your IT bands, which as a man they’re generally always tight and only get tighter with repetitive movements like running or cycling. She’s the yoga queen and will know of a local teacher who can help you,” Adam grins, nodding towards his sister.

“There’s so much I have yet to learn about her,” Marcus shakes his head as he sorts out his headphones.

“Yeah, good luck with that!” Adam laughs as he pats Marcus on the back, “Anyway, enjoy the rest of your run and hopefully see you again soon.”

As Marcus gradually picks up his pace away from you and your family, his heart that had felt so dark and lonely, now feels light and airy. The release valve in his chest is finally loosened and there is a little bubble of excitement in his belly that he allows to build at the thought of tomorrow. The thought of your presence in his apartment, doing something as domestic as cooking, is truly a salve for his soul.

Perhaps he can just make believe until it becomes a reality.

Tag list of glory: @astroboots @silverwolf319@sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @sugarontherims @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @pedropascalito @mouthymandalorian @mrsparknuts @lunaserenade @zukoyonce @agirllovespancakes @yespolkadotkitty @theravenreads @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

[entertainment]

Entertainment Spotlight: Osric Chau

If you’re a fan of Supernatural or the Arrowverse, you probably recognize actor, producer, writer, director, and martial artist Osric Chau. He landed his first leading role in Kung Fu Killer in 2008, after spending years training in martial arts with aspirations to work in stunts. The following year Osric played Nima, the Tibetan monk, in the blockbuster film 2012, and he recently produced and starred in the film Empty By Design. On the television front, he played genius high school student pulled into the role of prophet, Kevin Tran, in Supernatural, and is currently starring as Ryan Choi in the Arrowverse’s epic crossover event, Crisis on Infinite Earths. Over the years, Osric has more than found a passion for acting and filmmaking. He still enjoys stunts, and has enormous appreciation of the skill and sacrifices involved but he'll settle with doing as many of his own stunts as a production will allow. Osric took time out of his busy schedule to answer some of our questions. Check it out:

With Supernatural ending this year, what is your favorite memory from the show (either on or off camera)?

First day, first episode. The beginning of it all. Met everyone. Got to do some running around as Kevin. And Jared became a father that night. Such a crazy time.

If you could have a conversation with Kevin Tran, what would you want to ask him and/or talk about?

I'd probably talk him into doing some physical training so he could be a hunter too.

You just produced and starred in Empty By Design. What did you learn from the experience? 

I learned that I'd been holding back my whole life. That I'd been limiting myself in what I thought I could or could not do and that there really isn't anything that I can't do with passion, hard work and a couple of good friends.

How would you describe the plot of Empty By Design to a five year old?

So Barbie lives in her house, right? (Child says yes) And GI Joe's always fighting some bad dudes so he's kinda homeless, but he lives in his truck, right? (Child says yes as well) Well let's say Barbie leaves her house and her family and goes to school for years. And one of the bad guys kidnaps GI Joe and keeps him away from his truck for years. And one day Barbie comes back to her house, but things have moved around and it's just a little bit weird, GI Joe escapes the bad dudes, and now he's back in his truck but his brother changed it to a stick shift while he was away and he doesn't know how to drive it anymore, and they bump into each other and talk about how weird it feels to be back home again even though they belong there. That's what Empty by Design is about. Can you tell I'm bad with kids?

What inspired you to make Empty By Design?

I needed to do something for myself. And I found some friends that did too. I asked my roommate Drea if she could do anything, what would she want to do? She said go back home to the Philippines. I told her to write a script about that. This was all happening while we were moving into our new apartment and after daily Ikea trips for a week, the words Empty by Design popped out of her mouth.

Do you have any fun facts about the making of Empty By Design that fans would be surprised to find out?

We flew to the Philippines with one way flights without a budget and we somehow managed to raise the money within the first two weeks there.

Can you walk us through an average day on the set of Crisis on Infinite Earths?

"What're we doing right now?" "Why are they in that costume?" "Wait what happened before this?" "My beard is so itchy..." "Okay this feels like Comic Con! Am I too excited right now?"

You wake up tomorrow morning as Ryan Choi in the middle of Crisis on Infinite Earths. What do you do?

I recognize I am not as smart as him but thankfully better trained and stupid enough to run in with full confidence. I limber up and try not to get in the way.

How does the making of a crossover event differ from the making of a regular episode?

Well for starters the crossover event was filming 5 episodes at the same time, so that in itself is a feat. Now on top of that, you're trying to use the same actors on all of those episodes so to coordinate which character which set and which show at all times and then you have other actors from other shows that you need to coordinate with as well. It was a logistical miracle that they pulled off. Hats off to everyone that made it happen.

What’s next for you?

I'm writing a script right now that I'm gonna co-direct with a friend. It's about my parents and I started writing it after the realization that they're actually real people and getting older. Weird thing to consider but that really scared me and I had to force myself to take the time to appreciate them while I still can. Doing a movie for them is my way of saying I love you, and thank you for putting up with me my entire life. And I'm also in talk with a good friend of mine to starting a vegetarian restaurant in Vancouver. I won't go into the ambition that i have for both of these but they're high haha, and they both bring me back to Vancouver more often which goes back to me wanting to spend more time with my family.

Thanks for taking the time, Osric! Give Osric’s Tumblr a follow right here. 

[secretsofthedarkestkind-arch]

Elena starter for @storieswrittcn​ (this may or may not have gotten away from me, Remember you said you like novella. I also took part of the ramble part one but altered it also)

We are outsiders Living inside a broken world We are outsiders And I know sometimes it can hurt But it gets better yeah we'll make it through We'll stay golden when we're black and blue We are outsiders But we're not hiding anymore This is who we really are

It had been fifteen years since she’d seen either of her brothers face to face. Fifteen years since Lee had spoken to the eldest. Fifteen years since she had thought of Mystic Falls, thought of all the ghosts that lurked within the town's shadows. Lee Salvatore had made it a habit to push anything regarding her brothers, that town, or their past to the deepest recesses of her mind. She had built life after life without them, embracing the warped gift of eternity. She hadn’t truly looked back after she’d transitioned. Finally able to become who she really was without the suffocating opinions of the church, her community, or her family.

It wasn’t an easy journey. Slow in it’s progression. Lee’s aunt had always told her she was a soul gifted before it’s proper time; her sexuality, the way she was born, her passion and skill when it came to art, her desire to see the world. None of it fit in the 1800’s. But as times changed pieces of Lee started to belong. Each change brought new opportunities, allowing Lee to start to put herself together. 

She was still an outsider, still judged--but what else would you expect living in a broken world? What didn’t fit into the neat little boxes of people’s minds, what didn’t fit the societal norm, was still given so much hate. The only difference was now there were those who fought for equality, unafraid to use their voices to promote change. Those people gave Lee hope, gave her strength. Finding those people throughout the last 145 years had shaped her.

Lee Salvatore was still an outsider, but she was also so much more. She was an artist, one with more alias’ than she could count on both hands. She was a college graduate, several degrees tucked away in a safe. She was a traveler, passports filled with stamps and a mind filled with memories she had never imagined to have. But most of all, Lee was finally able to look in the mirror and accept the person she saw; the youngest Salvatore was who she truly was. She held no more self hate. No more whispers of ghosts past haunted her. She was an outsider, but she wasn’t hiding who she really was anymore.

While Lee had taken the road of self discovery, her brothers’ hadn’t. They’d been living in a siblings quarrel, at least Damon was. Stefan suffered at every turn at their brothers hand whenever they fell into each other's orbit or Damon specifically sought him out. Lee was drugged into it whenever Damon crossed too many lines, risking their exposure to the world. 

Stefan had called her no more than seven hours ago asking for her help. There was a trail of bodies leading straight to town, ‘animal attacks’ that couldn’t be explained were catching the eye of news outlets. She hadn’t even known Stefan was back in Mystic Falls. When Lee asked him why he couldn’t just leave, he explained there was something holding him in Mystic Falls that didn’t allow him to--something that could finally give him a sense of belonging--and refused to believe the attacks were Damon. All he wanted was for Lee to be there with him, help keep the spotlight off their kind. The vampire might loathe her brothers, wanting nothing more for them to be miserable, but she wasn’t going to allow Damon to out them. 

Which is why Lee was driving down the main strip on her motorcycle. The town was busy; teens scattered across the storefronts trying to enjoy their last hours of summer vacation. She came to a stop at one of the only stoplights in town, rolling her shoulders dreading whatever was to come when she reached the boarding house. The youngest Salvatore felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand, a shiver going down her spine, every nerve ending coming to life in a way she hadn’t experienced in years. Lee let her head turn to the right, following the pull of whatever was happening.

‘What…” The lithe form of a brunette teen who was walking beside another girl was at the center of her focus. “Turn around.” Lee knew the brunette couldn’t hear her words. Her plea was answered as she turned, eyes almost searching. Those eyes, that’s what did it. “Who are you?” A horn from behind her snapped Lee out of her trance, for a nanosecond the two locked eyes. The vampire’s eyes hidden behind her aviators. The next Lee was pulling off, possibly faster than she should have been. Now she had the true answer of why Stefan refused to leave. 

----

Lee placed a few notebooks, her sketchbook, and a few pens into her satchel--the one she’d had since she was a teen; a gift from her aunt she’d never been able to part with. She glanced up at the ceiling hearing Stefan’s footsteps on the roof. A sigh left her lips, why had she agreed to this? She was roughly 160 years old and able to enroll herself in a Small Town America High School. It was ridiculous; a complete stalker move. There had to be other ways for Stefan to get to know this girl, if that’s even what he was truly hoping to do. For how Stef had explained the situation, Lee could tell he was only doing this because of Katherine.

Subconsciously her thumb started to play with the band of her daylight ring. She was thankful for the chance of life Katherine Pierce had given her but there was so much Lee wished was different. Shaking her head to break out of her thoughts she moved toward her closet to get dressed. Lee scanned through her options, To be me or be who society thinks I should be? It was a debate she hadn’t had in a long time. To make this work she couldn’t disturb the waters between her and her brothers too much. A short laugh left her lips, that was a joke. The three couldn’t be in the same room without starting something. As it was right now, it was just two of them. With that thought in mind Lee grabbed an outfit that would be her. 

Guys white wash skinny jeans that weren’t too tight to show her tuck, a grey and white hooded baseball tee that had a pocket on the left chest, her grey vans, and her black leather jacket she’s had since the 90’s. She finished the look with a black watch. One more look in the mirror and she was pocketing her phone with one hand and slipped her satchel over her shoulder with the other.

She knew Stefan would already be off. His stalker-like tendencies being on overdrive since the ‘animal attack’ last night after Lee had arrived. She ignored Zack who was in his office and headed to the garage, she wasn’t going to run to the school. There wasn’t anything wrong with arriving in style.

-------

Stefan met her in the parking lot. Lee took her helmet off and ran her fingers through her hair, glancing at her brother, her own sunglasses covering her eyes. “Why do you always insist on dressing like that?” He asked, judgement clear in his voice. 

“This is me Stefan. You know that. Let it go. You asked for my help so take me as I am or I get on this bike and leave.” She told him. Lee wasn’t going to put up with his judgement. The world had given her enough of that. Plus her brother had already had his fair share of giving her judgement when they were younger. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” Lee stated, “This is definitely traveling into creeper status.” Stefan didn’t answer, just turned to walk through the crowd of students covering the lawn reconnecting after a summer away. She moved into step beside him, she knew they stood out; leather jackets, both well built and confident in their strides, the aurora of not giving a fuck rolling off them both. 

They finally found their way to the admissions office, standing shoulder to shoulder. Stefan handed over the file that was supposed to hold all they needed but Lee knew was missing more than a few things. She wondered which of the two would compel the woman. Stefan could but where all he drank was Bambi and Co blood who knew how long it would last. Lee sighs, she’s ready to make the move when something behind them stops her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, her nerves firing up again, and she felt that pull to turn around. She also could feel a warm buzz in the air, a witch.

“Hold up. Who’s this?” The first female says, the witch.

The secretary’s voice brings her back to what’s in front of her, saying exactly what she knew was coming. “Your records are incomplete. You’re both missing immunization records and we do insist on transcripts.” Lee glances at Stefan out of the corner of her eye. The last transcripts she had were college one's back in the 1980’s. She hadn’t done high school since the late 70’s and that was only to get into Yale. Their art programs the top in the country. 

Thoughts of the past make her miss her chance, Stefan is taking his sunglasses off, “Please look again,” Lee adjusts her satchel hoping Stefan can do this right. “I’m sure everything you need for both of us is there.” Lee chews the inside of her lower lip, her free hand moving to remove her sunglasses just in case. 

The secretary looks back down, “Well you’re right.” Lee tucks her sunglasses into the collar of her shirt as the woman looks back up at her brother. “So it is.” Stefan-1, Humanity-0.

“Thank you,” Stefan, ever the polite one, says. As they turn to go, Lee glances over at her brother’s schedule. Seems they have all but one class together--Lee has art and Stefan a creative writing course. That works.

“You’re welcome,’ The secretary says, her eyes landing on the two teens in the hall. “Ahh! Miss Bennett, Miss Gilbert I’m glad you’re here. Do you think you could show our two newest students around?” She stands up from behind her desk to walk around to the siblings. “This is Lee and Stefan Salvatore. I think they both have a few classes with you both.” Lee takes in who she now know as a Bennett witch, why the magic felt warm. She gives the teen a charming smile before the pull is to much, her head being forced to turn to the brunette beside her. The vampire takes her in, all she can see is someone new. Lee doesn’t see Katherine when she looks at her. “Hi,” The charming smile turning into a much softer one. “I’m Lee.” She offers her hand to the girl.

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Nineteen | Temmie Village (Part 2 of 2)

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The air conditioner paired up with the sound of the rain against the windshield and the wheels against the wet road quell and soothe both your stress and nausea alike; drowsiness replaces them and allows you to relax with a sigh. It feels odd to have someone driving while you're resting at the back, though there's not much you can do about it. The drag of your steps as you tried to climb into the car even with the help of your co-workers had been sufficient for Papyrus to insist you laid down and for Sans to agree with him. The latter's driving remains slow and careful throughout, strikingly different compared to how he usually was when handling his own vehicle. You assume he's doing it for your sake, until a faint melody you once believed to be coming from the radio turns loud enough to make the car's windows boom and vibrate.

A cheery beat floods your ears, and -- when you sit up straight -- you can see there's what looks like a parade taking place right in the middle of the street. Large tents, plastic ponchos, and colourful umbrellas help shield against the ongoing rain. There's a flower float with Frisk's face on it, along with a cat-dog hybrid standing on top of it, clad in a student uniform and waving a flag with a presumably newly-opened school's logo stamped on it. You recognize the monster from one of the few unbelievable tales -- now facts -- Frisk had told you about, though you can't exactly bring yourself to take in the oddity of that sight. Seeing Temmies walking around and near the float isn't the strange thing, but -- rather -- the fact that there's an entire choir of them marching forward along the streets, singing almost effortlessly to the complex tune of the song. Not only that, but there's another float following behind them, this one promoting free education and advertised by a college graduate -- also a Temmie, with the only noticeable difference from the rest being she's wearing a teacher's suit jacket and a pair of glasses.

Just as you hear the car's signal click left, you spot Frisk amongst the small crowd surrounding the second float. They're sporting a bright yellow raincoat, smiling wide, and with their hand held tight by Toriel's, who stays behind while they wave back at all the Temmies and passerby waving at them. Some drivers stop to take in the scenery while others drive by quickly; what sends alarms off in your head is realizing how exposed Frisk is to the public and how little protection you notice around them.

"Wait," you call out, word blurted. "What's…" Your eyes fix on them and how calm, happy, and carefree they seem regardless of those dangers. A pang of jealousy makes its way to your chest when you see they encourage Toriel to join them, bringing her out of the shadows and into the spotlight. "What's going on?" You try to shake those feelings aside, yet you can't help the persistent and bitter emotion that comes with knowing Toriel had played a major, supportive role in one of Frisk's biggest journeys. She'd been their aid for almost two entire months -- a time when you could only work yourself down to the bone, and stress and cry over your loss, neither of which helped much at the end of it all.

"That was supposed to be one of the surprises, but well…" His voice sounds tense -- as if he's read right through you. "But with what happened, well-"

"It's… It's okay."

You try to calm yourself down.

He didn't need to say anything else.

It wasn't his fault, just as it wasn't Toriel's or anybody else's. You'd refused to take the medicine specifically prescribed for you, and that resulted in you having to occupy a busy friend for no reason other than purposely neglecting something you were supposed to adhere to for the betterment of your health. Toriel was watching over Frisk as she so promised. On a similar note, Papyrus had been more than kind enough to offer you the back seat of his car for you to rest in while you made it somewhere to eat after dropping him off where he needed to be. He accepted the risks of running late simply to agree with Sans on picking you up from work, and he even rejected using your own vehicle to keep it protected from the rain.

What you didn't comprehend was why none of the monsters informed you about this earlier than today.

"I understand this was meant to be a surprise, but…" Your tone falters, though you clear your throat to regain strength. "But why didn't you ask for my permission first -- before letting Frisk take part in something like this?" You stop for a moment. "I- I'm not against it, but after what happened at the bus, I…" 

You grab your knees and squeeze them, preventing yourself from getting emotional. 

"I fear for their safety." You swallow hard, feeling nausea returning. "If things were different, I wouldn't mind, but they're not. The Surface is too dangerous for them now." Reluctance makes your chest hurt. "I'm not seen as a good parent by many, and then there's that whole thing with CPS and Frisk's custody, and... And now my health, too." You huff and take a breather. "There's just so many things I'm afraid will go wrong, that I… I-"

A familiar warmth covers your face; two hands slip around your waist.

"Easy now," the eldest of the two says. "Else you're gonna end up faintin' again," he adds, well-mannered humour tracing his sentence.

You hold on tight and shudder at the feeling of his face pressing against your collarbones. His head stays there while you settle down; his hands -- conversely -- run up and down your back, attempting to further calm your stress. No other words are said as he remains that way.

At that, you continue with, "I'm afraid of them being this out in the open, a- and even more when I can't be there for them." 

You let him go and stare right at him, eager to set things straight. 

"It's amazing you're celebrating Frisk's achievements in such a wonderful way, b- but..." A smile shows on your face, conflicted with reluctance you can't avoid and a bitterness you try to shake off. "But I'm their parent, Sans," you add, words strained. "I… I've only known you for a few months, and yet," you say, hesitating, "and yet… You're like this with me. I don't understand how you and others can be this way, s- so quick to trust and befriend, but… I can't be that way. Everything's going too fast, and I need a little more time -- until I figure out what actions I should take as a parent." You grab his hand and squeeze firm at it, smiling again afterwards, a bit more honest than before. "I'm eternally grateful for everything so far, but… Please don't forget I'm still Frisk's main guardian, e- even after all that." Notwithstanding, your smile doesn't last long. "Maybe I'm bitter, or maybe I really do have the right to feel angry about this, but either way... I need to be careful." A pause and a breath. "And I acknowledge I'm not the best parent, but… But I still need to prioritize Frisk's safety before everything else."

Sans nods and squeezes your hand back. "I'll let others know about this too, then -- If that's alright with you, 'course."

Your smile returns. "That would be nice."

"Would you feel better knowing there's a protective barrier surrounding the parade?" Papyrus intervenes, helping ease out the mood. 

He's now sitting behind the wheel, replacing Sans while he stays with you by the back seat. His driving is much more careful, yet his speed is quicker now that the parade's left more space for him to pass through. "We haven't turned a blind eye to this situation either, (L/N)," he says, looking at you from the rear-view mirror. "Frisk's safety is just as important as their happiness!"

You look to his side and later at the parade, staring more closely to notice the reason for Frisk's raincoat still being intact is a barrier similar to Sans's magic, though of a different colour compared to his.

"We were going to inform you after you clocked out of work, but…"

You let out a chuckle -- more defeated than anything else. "I apologize for that, then." You bring a hand to the back of your neck and rub at it. "I've been... reckless, as of late."

"Why's that?" he asks, sounding just as intrigued as Sans looks.

"I haven't been taking care of myself like I should. If I were, things wouldn't be like this. I... I would've been healthy, and Sans would've told me about this. I was irresponsible with my health, and now I'm bothering others to help me with something that could've been avoided."

Your confession is followed up by a sharp inhale and a shudder as you then add, "I haven't done anything to change how many hours and days I work every week, now that I don't need to do that as much, and…" You hesitate. "And I haven't been taking the doctor's orders that seriously, either." Your hands return to your knees, where you squeeze tight enough to almost hurt yourself in the process. "I don't want to grow dependent on them -- the medicines prescribed to me. I'm… I'm afraid of them changing who I am, and… And I just don't want to risk the possibility of affecting Frisk because of this, either."

Sans grabs your attention by holding your hand again, more careful than when you went to squeeze at his. "You should let the doctor know, then. If you're scared of what that stuff'll do to you, the best you can do's ask her about it." He lets go, giving you space to breathe. "She could keep your doubts in mind, and maybe tell you to visit her if that new treatment does you more harm than good with time."

You don't acknowledge you've made it to Papyrus's stop until you see him set the shift on parking. The cheery music's now fainter, and the parade can still be seen when you look back. The only difference is the change in scenery, as you now stand in front of what looks like a culinary university, large, tacky, and colourful banners promoting the acceptance of the monster population into their campus. "I need to go now, but…" He smiles, almost as bright as the sun shining behind the rain clouds. "We can discuss more later, if you'd like!"

You smile back and wave goodbye; he steps outside after that and walks off, leaving Sans to give you one final glance before going back to the front seat.

While he adjusts, you observe Papyrus from a distance, who's now making his way to the line at the entrance gates of the university.

"So…"

At that sound, you face the mirror and meet Sans's gaze.

"Where to?" he asks. "And don't say home, 'cuz I know you ain't eaten yet."

"What's easiest for you," you reply, fixing your posture. "You've already done enough."

He stays parked to turn to your side. 

"Doesn't mean we can't talk more about it," he says, "It's your right as a parent to set boundaries and all that, but you really do need to take better care of yourself, (Y/N). Not just for Frisk's benefit, but for yourself, too." He sighs, turns back to the wheel, and grasps it tighter, continuing after with, "And I acknowledge I also failed to do my part, 'cuz -- like you said it yourself -- you shoulda known about this stuff sooner than today. Surprise or not, I coulda hinted at it. I promised I'd keep you informed, after all." Recognition flashes in his irises, and he stops for a minute. "That being said, we've gotta finish up the rest of that tour soon -- It's been a while."

"Don't remind me, teddy bear." You grin and slump on your seat, huffing afterwards. "There's so much stuff to do, I don't even know where to start."

"Tell me about it." He lets a broad smile show through and spares a quick glance at the mirror to wink at you. "Wouldn't really complain over another day like the one at the hotel."

You look away and hide your grin, feeling it widen. "...I'll keep that in mind, then."

• • •

“So,” the skeleton says, hands slipping under the table. An awkward stiffness overcomes his shoulders, and his gaze takes a while to meet with yours. “You heard about it from her first, huh?”

You gulp some water, needing to cool off. 

“Yes,” you reply, grabbing the medicine out of your belongings. The headache’s still going strong, even after having ended work an hour ago. “Are you really working an office job now? ...What about your other job?” Catching on to how invasive you’re being, you take another sip to bring the pills down and breathe in deep. “Sorry if it seems like I’m being nosy, but… I just want to know if you quit selling hot dogs because of me.” It’s a strange sentence no matter how you look at it, and even more so when you consider the on and off romantic relationship you share with the monster; or to put it bluntly: a friend with benefits -- or a man-friend, as your godmother had so accused him of. “I… I feel like I’m responsible for this, so I’d really like to know.”

Sans grins, takes his drink, and swirls it around. “And that’s exactly why I didn’t wanna tell you yet.” He sets it down and breaks eye contact with you to retrieve something from his suitcase. When he finds the item, he places it on the table, revealing a yellow folder about as thick as the menu left beside you, open to display an array of desserts, one you'd tried the evening before you stayed with him at the hotel, and the other you had today as a way to make an impromptu meeting with him about what happened earlier with Brenda's own fair share of invasiveness. “I know it seems way too coincidental, but I really am workin’ in an office now.”

You pick up the folder, set it in front of you, and keep a hand over it.

“It’s about that thing Tori wants to talk about with you.” He tugs at his jacket’s sleeve; that sight makes you take in the oddity of his looks right now: wearing a suit and tie. He’s like a whole other person today. The main two things that remind you he’s still the same as before are his low voice and mellow personality. Even his posture and body language are different, as if to match with the formality of his attire. “Open it,” he adds, facing your eyes again. “It’ll kinda spoil the surprise she has for you, but I think I owe you a better explanation after what happened today."

You consider his words and eye him for a moment. While he has a more proper posture, the monster’s the same one you met months ago. He’s still himself -- formal wear or not. “It’s… It's alright,” you say, smiling. “I’ll wait until Saturday.”

Tension seems to let him go, yet he still replies with, “You can open it, really. Tori said it was fine, and that she could use the extra time this saves up to take you somewhere with her.”

“...Is it really okay?” You pull your hand back from the folder, emphasizing your words.

Sans nods, sighing the rest of his rigidity away. “Go ahead.”

Doing as told, you tear it open as carefully as you’re capable of, preventing potential damage to the documents waiting inside. From there, you retrieve a single sheet of paper first, its texture rough and giving out at being far more important than all the other files found under it. You turn it around. The words ‘Frisk (L/N)’ and ‘student’ instantly pair up and click into your mind. There’s a school under Toriel’s name written down, along with a print of its logo and motto -- the former you recognize from the parade. 

“I…”

You can’t find the proper words to say to him. It worsens when you decide to take a peek at another document, seeing your name right in the middle. It's not as thick as the previous paper, but it still holds potential for a new future. Besides Toriel's stamp of approval and a small paragraph stating the terms, a single, empty line waits for you at the bottom. Your signature's the only thing missing for the agreement to be made.

“This is…” You shudder out a gasp, almost forgetting to breathe.

The skeleton breaks the ice, saying, “Tori’s school finally got approved, and she was thinking of havin' you and Frisk in it.” You face to his side, holding back a flinch when you notice he’s moved closer to you; the table helps keep some distance between you, fortunately. “Whaddya say, (Y/N)?” he asks. “You don’t have to answer right away, but… Just know the offer’s up, and that we see you guys as a family.”

You hoist yourself over the table and reach out for a hug, using that to replace any words you could possibly direct to the monster in front of you. He returns it, maintaining his hold on you until you break it apart -- a bit complicated to do when you notice you’re letting yourself get sentimental again. That allows your mind to drift back to the past and the more recent memory of Brenda’s visit.

“Thank you...” Your words come off in a murmur, lacking anything to say even now. 

You sniffle to restrain the emotions forming up inside, from disbelief and contentment, to melancholy and excitement. Were this a movie and were you on closer terms with the monsters, you would’ve imagined kissing the one in front of you in the sheer spur of the moment. Unresolved tension and personal limitations team up to delay any progress of that kind with him. “So you... I take it you’re in charge of keeping finances in order while her school finally opens?” you ask, changing the topic. You need time to think -- just like he’d mentioned. Having Frisk study in Toriel’s school didn’t seem like a bad choice if you were going to be paying for it, and if it would help bring more word out about her school. You working there was a wholly different story, finding the offer a bit too good to be true. It wasn't because of the goat lady, but rather due to it feeling like you were straight-up taking advantage of her and all the other monsters’ kindness. 

“Precisely,” he replies, grinning. 

His expression freezes up, and it’s only when he sits back down that it loosens. The proximity left between you after the hug's kept itself present without you acknowledging it by full. “I can work the numbers fast, so that way Alphys can focus more on plannin' out the structure and how science class will be laid out, since we all wanna leave things runnin' well before we can start employin' any other monsters.” He meets your eyes again and winks. “And of course, any cute human who’s willing to help us out.”

You glance away, feeling your face turn warm. “I'll… I’ll think about it.” Then, you look back to him; a question pops into your thoughts. “But what service could I provide you with? I've only got an Associate's in Business with what, well... happened in the past.”

“You say that like it’s nothing," he replies, chuckling. “You could easily take up three different positions with those preparations you've got.” Then, he sits back and takes the check when a bunny waitress arrives with it. “You’ll see what I mean when you talk with Tori this Saturday. Can’t really keep spoilin’ the surprise for you anymore.”

Beat to it, you put your wallet away and shift on your seat. “Alright,” you say, taking the folder with you. “But could I still make it up to you somehow? I know Brenda can be a bit, well... tough to handle, so it's only fair for me to do this."

“I’m perfectly fine meeting up like this. And she came by right as I was about to clock out, so I’d tell you it’s no big deal, but…" He trails off to stare at you, done with paying up. "If this's a crafty excuse for us to keep on hangin' out, then I'm all on board with it, puddin'."

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[bestofblackwidow]

The "Let me go - it's okay," she told him the last time we saw the Black Widow, it was - to say the least - emotional. "Let me go - it's okay," she said to Hawkeye, plunging to her death on the arid planet Sleeping in Avengers: Endgame for the ultimate sacrifice to save the world. While the deaths in the Marvel Cinematic Universe go on - sorry, Iron Man - there was probably no more heart-stopping moment, since the former SHIELD spy who became Avenger gave her life to recover the Soul Stone.

Still, it left the MCU in a bind. For years, a Black Widow film had been mooted, right back to 2004 at Lions Gate Entertainment before the rights reverted to Marvel. When Scarlett Johansson first appeared as Natasha Romanoff - the former KGB assassin with a very particular set of skills - in 2010's Iron Man 2, it didn't take long before questions were asked about a solo outing. Marvel Studios conductor Kevin Feige even held discussions with Johansson, who was then only 25. But there was a caveat, he said. "The Avengers comes first."

While others - Thor, Captain America, Black Panther and even Ant-Man - had their moments in the spotlight, the Black Widow was forced to wait. And wait. And wait. Not that Johansson thought that her character demanded the same treatment; if she was going to be in front of a Marvel movie, there had to be a reason. "Is there anything exciting to do creatively, as an actor?" she says. “Will we be able to do something extraordinary and strong? And something that stands on its own? "It's what makes the independent Black Widow an intriguing prospect: an inauguration of Phase 4 of the MCU promises to step back in time before her dramatic death to answer the provocative questions that still hover over her Crucially, the script transports audiences back to the events right after Captain America: Civil War, after that huge internal confrontation of the Avengers.

Without relatives or an organization that employs her, the Black Widow is alone, says Johansson. "It gave us the opportunity to really show her when she's kind of out of her game, you know? Because of that, anything was possible." The actress was there "from the start" at the script meetings, as they began to figure out how to delve into Romanoff's origins. "You are trying to map all of this ... which is extremely stressful," she laughs, "because there are no guidelines."

Fortunately, Johansson was not alone. In another inspired choice for the MCU canon, Feige recruited Australian director Cate Shortland, best known for discreet dramas like Somersault and Lore. While she was surprised, Shortland was encouraged by the creative freedom that Marvel was offering. “They allowed me to be myself and encouraged me to make a movie that I was passionate about,” she says. "We were allowed to have a lot of nuances and make a character-oriented film."

After several Skype sessions with Johansson, who also receives producer credit, Shortland worked with a Russian researcher to embody Romanoff's dark story: "the red in my ledger", as she told Loki in 2012 in Os Avengers. As she sings in the trailer, "We have to go back to where it all started" - the promising teaser clips of Romanoff as a young man (played by Ever Anderson, daughter of Paul WS Anderson and Milla Jovovich) in a childhood that seems far from idyllic. That's what makes Black Widow a family reunion of the kind that only Marvel would have the courage to conjure. Joining Romanoff is Yelena Belova, a sister-sister and fellow murderer who trained alongside her in the so-called Red Room, the punitive Soviet facility that produced 'Black Widow' spies.

"Their stories intersect," promises Shortland. "They clash." Played by Lady Macbeth's British star Florence Pugh, Belova is more than a physical match for Romanoff. Still, emotionally is where it really matters. "What Yelena does is kind of point to Natasha's pain," says Pugh. “She is part of Natasha's story. And I think that's why we have an opportunity to look at Natasha's story, because Yelena has been knocking on the door and says, 'Hey, let's deal with this pain. ”As Johansson comments, Belova is not just a carbon copy of his own character.

"She is completely alone. She is strong and different. She is so different (from) Natasha." Beside them are Melina Vostokoff (Rachel Weisz) and Alexei Shostakov (David Harbor), two father figures whose own stories intertwine with Natasha and Yelena. "This is the coolest thing with this whole group of people. They all had parts of their past that they regretted," says Pugh. “They’re older. They’ve had more life experience. They know more about the system, about this world they’re all living in.” Harbor, the Emmy Stranger Things nominated star, managed to put an indelible mark on the muscular Shostakov, better known as the Red Guardian super soldier, the Russian equivalent of Captain America. "There is a gangster quality to him," the actor smiles. "And he's covered in tattoos. He's got a beard and those gold teeth. He's crazy." But after years of making bad decisions, he's also full of remorse.

"He's in a bad situation," adds Harbor. "And he needs redemption." Weisz's character, Melina, is another who experienced the rigors of the Red Room, a place that put her in contact with Natasha and Yelena. Marking his first dive at the MCU, Weisz acknowledges that the film addresses the idea of ​​discovering his favorite family. "It's definitely about finding out where you belong and where you came from, and what your background story was, and who you really are, and what matters to you - your ideology, I think." Along the way, Feige made reference to The Kids Are All Right - the 2010 Lisa Cholodenko film about a same-sex couple raising two teenagers. "Which is so weird," laughs Johansson. "You would never expect that from a Marvel movie." no it was the only strange nod to the film. Harbor speaks of Shostakov in terms of Philip Seymour Hoffman's drama teacher in the dramatic black comedy The Savages.

Or even expressing "the pathos of a small town, independent, family-run, weird movie... like Little Miss Sunshine". More understandable cinema references include "things like Logan and Aliens and The Fugitive," says Shortland. "We saw movies like that." Certainly, it's easy to see comparisons between Sigourney Weaver's determined Ripley, from James Cameron's masterpiece Aliens, and Johansson's Romanoff, an Avenger who has no superpowers. "We saw it as a force," says Shortland, "because she always has to dig really deep to get out of shit situations." According to the director, everyone in the production invested in deepening Romanoff - even Scottish composer Lorne Balfe (Pennyworth, His Dark Materials), who replaced Alexandre Desplat's original choice. Balfe looked at the character's origins, says Shortland. “He said, 'I want to put it on the ground, because it has been dug up in the movies in the past. I want to give her that flesh and blood. 'And he created this soundtrack that is really Russian."

However, perhaps the real blow here is to recruit Shortland, the first female director to face the Black Widow (and only the second, following Captain Marvel co-director Anna Boden, to enter the MCU). "This film would not be what it is without Cate Shortland," says Pugh. "I think having her eye, and having her mind with this script, has taken her to a whole different realm." Johansson agrees. "" You can feel it was made from a female perspective ... cooked there. "Although Ray Winstone's casting as Supervisor of the Red Room Dreykov (whose daughter contributed to the abundance of red in Romanoff's book, according to Loki) add more to the psychological battleground that the Black Widow will explore, it also deals with victimization, a very pertinent topic in the current climate. The Red Room itself is where trainees are brutally sterilized. "You will see that these women are hard working and strong, and they are murderers - and yet they still need to discuss how they were abused," says Pugh. "It is an incredibly powerful piece."

Judging by the 2020 Oscars, where Pugh and Johansson had their own private relationship session on the red carpet, the two actors got along very well. "She has a really beautiful career ahead of her ... she's a very special person," says Johansson, excited when Pugh's name is mentioned. More specifically, Pugh may well have more Marvel to chew on, if it is rumored that her character will take on the 'Black Widow' mantle for new adventures. By learning Parkour, kickboxing and knife fighting for role, Pugh can safely cut things physically, though she's reluctant to claim that the Black Widow is just a setup for future outings. "Even though it is obviously where everyone wants to go and want to think - think about what comes next - this film never really seemed to be what he was trying to underline." According to Johansson, however, test the audience who saw the film thinks otherwise. "Her character and her performance are so dear." Now, after more than a year of pandemic-related delays to July 2021), it will not be just a few lucky spectators who will be able to see. Black Widow will even be the first Marvel movie to debut simultaneously on the Disney+ streaming site (with a 'main hit' fee), an understandable move considering the uncertainty that still exists around the world. And in fact, after the success of the Marvel TV shows WandaVision and The Falcon And The Winter Soldier, it doesn't seem like such a strange home. Johansson believes that fans will respond to Black Widow, with this flashback of an earlier part of her life, bringing more poignancy to the Endgame's outcome. "Our goal was for them to be satisfied with this story; that maybe they could have some solution, I think, with the death of this character, in a way. It seemed like people wanted this." Shortland agrees. "We felt that we should honor his death," she says. And the Black Widow will surely honor him.

[kim-ruzek]

burzek kisses 49

49. secret kisses

I'm going to put most of this under a cut, because it got a little long, to say the least. It's 1.6k words long, but tbf...this prompt has burzek ALL over it! Enjoy soft!burzek

Do you have any evidence to file?

Kim’s phone buzzes, and she looks down at it, a smile immediately coming onto her face at the text from Adam. She doesn’t know how he timed it perfectly for when Roman and her pulled back up at the district, but it’s something he has a penchant for doing. There’s logical basis to it, he always messages around the time she should be having her break, or when the day has gone on a bit, and they’re usually in as much contact via text as their jobs allow, but it’s always uncanny in it’s timing.

“What’s making you smile so much? Who’s texting you?” Roman asks, and Kim quickly locks her phone, sliding it into her pocket.

“No one,” she answers, before realising the quickness of the response and the defensiveness of her tone brings up more suspicion than it dissuades .

“My sister. About something my niece did.” Kim then says. She’s a big believer in the bond partners should have with each other, that transparency is key, and she feels bad for lying to him but it’s necessary for her, for her career prospects. And lying to Roman about a message doesn’t kill her half as much as having to pretend her wonderful, caring, attractive boyfriend is just a friend.

“Here’s me thinking it was that new fella of yours.” Roman dryly responds. Being stuck in a car all day with someone, it gets hard to completely keep up a lie. Especially when there’s frequent texts between her and Adam, especially when Adam gets a little too enthusiastic in their love-making and she undoes her collar in front of Roman, forgetting all about the marks Adam left. So Kim had to make up some half truth about her seeing some guy, and had to try to ignore how much it hurt her to downplay the relationship, to make it seem like something casual and unimportant; just something fun that’ll end in a few months.

“Maybe instead of my love life, you should focus on your own.” Kim hits back, good-naturedly of course. Sometimes, on long, tiring days, she wants to hit back a little harder, but she’s always so aware how she shouldn’t seem too defensive, too secretive about whatever she’s doing relationship wise as that’s a sign of gossip to be had, and she so doesn’t want the spotlight on her.

“We taking a break now?” She double checks, barely waiting for his confirmation before she’s getting out the squad car, taking out her phone to message Adam back.

I think I do. x

Kim heads straight to the evidence room, a spring in her step at the thought of getting to see Adam. It’s hard already being away from him for so many hours, especially on the days their schedules don’t line up and it’s even harder with them keeping their relationship a secret. That they work together, that they regularly run into each other, that they could eat lunch together, that they can drive together in the morning and yet whenever others around they have to keep their distance, that they have to keep up the act that they’re just friends and that it is. Being so close to him, and yet unable to be with him, it aches her in a way she’d have never imagined. And she knows Adam feels the same.

This is how they get by. They message each other when they can. They don’t hesitate to waste time as soon as they’re at either of their apartments. They have stolen moments whenever they’re near each other. A brush against the arm here, a quick link of fingers there. A hey, a good morning, a how are you. Quick grabs around corners, gentle barely-there kisses that leaves them craving more. And this, rendezvous in an empty locker room, the back room, the evidence room. Anywhere and anytime they can.

They develop their own language in their messages, in their body movements. Adam’s text now, do you have evidence to file?, is their signal for I have free time, if you do too come here for a kiss. They can talk more open in their messages, they have, their messages being filled with words expressing how much they want each other, how much they crave each other, how much they miss each other. Messages about dinner, about how many rounds they’ll stay for in Molly’s before leaving.

Yet they have these more indirect messages, these private signals that dances around their intentions but is so clear to them. They give them a feeling Kim can’t describe, a sense of thrill and affection. A surge of possessiveness for their relationship, that these words are for them, and only them.

It’s how she feels about their subtle body language, the way their eyes catch each others across the district, the way they can ask each other things without ever having to utter a word, the way they know if the other wants to go to Molly’s or head straight home without needing to ask. It’s a language, all relationships are.

But when it’s a secret from the world, when privacy is a priority, it becomes something more. It becomes their first language, a language so unique to them, a language that is only theirs, a language only they can understand. It becomes the most important thing, because it’s how you communicate with each other. How you comfort each other. How to be close, to be in love, to be with each other when you have to stand what feels like miles apart.

It kills Kim whenever she’s helping out intelligence and Adam’s there, standing so close, and she has to pretend that her heart’s not beating ever so fast because he’s her man. It kills her when they’re at Molly’s with their co-workers and she’s having to pretend that she doesn’t just want to wrap her arms around him, that she doesn’t want to kiss him, deeply, firmly, passionately. That she doesn’t want to yell to the whole world that he’s hers, and she’s his.

It kills her when she sees a girl flirting with him and she has to pretend that a wave of possessiveness doesn’t wash over her and that she just wants to claim him, openly and publicly. It kills her that when they’re both hanging out with Kevin that she can’t cuddle up against him as they watch a movie, or cheer him on and give him a winner’s kiss when he beats Kev at videogames.

It kills her that they have to hope that they can sit next to each other in Molly’s without it seeming like they’re deliberately seeking out each other, that they can only secretly hold hands under the table if they know no one will see.

All she wants to do is to broadcast that they’re together. To be able to talk about how truly happy she is, how her day doesn’t feel complete unless she has seen him, spoke to him, kissed him, how he’s the person she wants whenever she feels so anxious, or distressed, when she just needs to rant and vent, when something exciting happens.

Kim’s a private person, really. She’s never been one who needs to broadcast that she’s in a relationship, who needs to show PDA to feel complete, to even particularly need the world to know she’s falling in love. But it’s different, it’s different when she’s so happy, it’s different when she can’t do any of that. Then she sees all the good parts of publicly showing your relationship, about having stolen moments without worrying it’ll cost you your dream job, of being able just to hug each other whenever you need, of being able to walk out a bar, hand in hand. All these little things she’s taken for granted in previous relationships, and yearns, aches, to be able to do it with Adam.

Adam, he’s kind, sweet, gentle, loving. She always knew he was, but had she known just how much underneath all that flirty arrogance, Kim might’ve not regretted kissing him nearly as much. He’s everything she’s ever wanted in a man. He makes her feel so attractive, so desirable, so sexy. And he makes her feel so safe, so warm, so secure.

He is why she can feel so achingly sad about keeping their relationship secret. Because he deserves the world, deserves to be able to kiss his girl whenever he likes, deserves to not have to steal away secret moments in the day, deserves to have the world told just how important he is to her.

She can’t give him that, not if she ever wants to make it into intelligence. Kim knows he understands, and so does she, that this is just how it has to be, no matter how much she wishes it wasn’t.

So they have these moments, little moments they carve out just for each other, biding their time until they can be in bed together, curled around one another, biding their time until they can tell the world that they are each other’s.

Adam is on her as soon as she enters the evidence room, immediately grabbing at her, pulling her to him, and kissing her deeply. Kim is immediately at his mercy, being able to only kiss him back with just as much ferocity, wrapping her arms around his neck as she does so.

“I miss you,” Adam murmurs against her lips, when they part from their passionate, needy kiss, instead gently giving small kisses to each other.

“I miss you, too,” Kim says back, her hands running gently through the back of his hair. She’s smiling softly at him, meeting his every gentle kiss he bestows on her. These kisses are secret, just for them. Kisses that if they get even the slightest hint of someone else being here have to immediately end. Kisses that are risky, dangerous, yet so needed, so craved.

They may have to kiss in secret, kissing in hidden places, away from prying eyes but Kim has no complaints—it is worth it, he is worth it.

[stopeatingwhales]

talk tonight x noel gallagher

i’m back with another noel fic ;) i know the meaning behind the song is completely different to how this story is presenting it, but i’m changing it up so it can fit the storyline. i don’t know why i always write so much for noel BUT he deserves it <3

Paring: 90s noel gallagher x reader

Warnings: its just really fucking soft okay

Word count: 3.809

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

“Stop writing so many mopey songs!” Liam yelled, tossing the now wrinkled piece of paper at his brother, containing heartfelt lyrics to another one of Noel’s melancholic masterpieces. “We’re not a sad band, for fucks sakes!” 

Sighing, Noel looked away from his sibling’s frustrated stares. Taking a hold of the paper, he unfolded it slowly, attempting to stretch out its unfortunate bruises: formed when gripped firmly in Liam’s palm as he skim read it atrociously. His eyes trailed from the top, all the way to the bottom of the page, examining the lyrics that messily peppered the sheet. He had spent hours, days, relentlessly trying to get the words right; it seemingly sounded better in his head rather than on the paper, his heartfelt remorse towards the amounts of paper he used - and eventually binned - ghosting his mind as he stared at the title of the song. Talk Tonight. 

Usually, he would be skilfully speedy with writing such anthems, yet, with this song, he felt it contained more of him than anything else did - his bare heart, unexpectedly torn out of its ligaments, dusted on a random chopping board, framed for the entire world to see. The public would have no idea who it was about and why he had written it, but knowing the obsessive fans that queued for hours just to buy a 7” single, crammed gigantic concert halls, chanted back memorable lyrics, which were either written hurriedly, wanting to complete the song or were age old melodies, well thought out in his childhood bedroom - accompanied by Liam’s occasional interrupting with his rowdy complaints about their mother not allowing him to go out and mess around with his friends at the time. His fans may either be oblivious as to the meanings of the song, or they may be able to depict it as adroitly as a neurosurgeon figuring out the exact muscle which broke apart the spine. You never knew. 

Noel stayed silent, not replying to Liam, leaving the standing sibling puzzled by his distanced expression. Expectedly, he assumed Noel would answer him, perhaps with a scolding, reminding him that he doesn’t write the songs, and that Noel’s the mastermind of it all, to which Liam would throw a hissy fit, storming out of the room in anger towards his repetitive comeback. Nevertheless, all that sounded in the room was a light hiss of wind escaping from the outdoors, seemingly into the small crack of the slightly opened window; you couldn’t tell whether it was shut or open. The fresh seeping air felt like it was intruder, like a fox deciding it was their place to rummage through your neighbours’ bins for a midnight snack, and after not managing to find anything, leaving all the bin bags ripped open, the trash every place imaginable in the adjacent front yard. “Noel?” Liam spoke, walking up to where his brother was sat, eventually inviting himself to sit next to him.

Liam’s words snapped Noel out of his ponder over what seemed to be anything imaginable. Blinking a couple times, he rubbed his right eye irritatingly, finally responding to his awaiting brother. “What?” he asked, folding up the paper once again, hiding it from Liam, as if he hadn’t already seen it previously. There was an element of secrecy in this song, something he found himself afraid to admit, even to the closest person to him. 

Taking note of this, Liam slowly gained an idea of the reasoning behind his aloof body language. “Who’s it about?” he questioned, snatching the piece of paper out of his sibling’s grip, once again. As he opened the fold, he noticed Noel’s tense body again from the abrupt clutch of his work. He re-read the roughly written lyrics - some endings of the words resulted in being smudged due to the pen his brother was using - this time seeing the lines in a completely different light. Noel was calling out for someone, a hint of plead, offhand desperation, a simple crave for attention, all effortlessly foreshadowed in his words. This wasn’t an ordinary song; this was about someone, someone close to him. 

“Who’s it about?” he repeated, his tone on the stretch between rough and soft, like a baby’s screeching, features soft yet voice ever so repulsive. Noel’s dry, lifeless responses began to agitate him, though he tried to hide it, his eyes trailing off to study the older brother’s distinctive features in a midst of the silence, always taking interest into his sibling’s prescence. He took note of his messily arranged mop hair-do, decorated lightly with significant stands sticking out freely; it was obvious that his attention being undivided towards his meaningful lyrics made him feel that he had no need to do himself for anyone else, along with the curved bridge of his nose, morphed in a delicate overlay of skin, a unique microcosm to who he really was. Both Gallagher brothers were pictured in the magazines as loud, condescending, boisterous teenagers from a poor, working class background, each one oblivious to the understanding of how to control (and handle) the spotlight - yet always wanted it to be on them. However, the way the world pictured Noel wasn’t fully correct: yes, there were times he was off of his head, drugged up in all sorts of class A drugs he seemingly was able to purchase from the insane sales their debut album, Definitely Maybe, had scored. Regardless, the world saw Noel as the twin of Liam: the same, when without a doubt both carried such idiosyncratic differences.

Once again, Noel kept quiet, engrossed between his many thoughts and ideations, not knowing whether to answer Liam or keep his silence. Noel felt the strong stare of his sibling being emitted onto his flesh, drawing himself two options: telling Liam and having him shut up about it, although he knew he wouldn’t, or keep his brother asking the same questions, his curiosity - and aggravation - increasing every millisecond as his quietness progressed on. “Is it someone I know?” the sibling asked, causing Noel to swivel his head instantly - locking eyes with him in surprise. Yes, Liam, it is. 

Liam was quick to catch Noel's startled expression, immediately thinking of all the girls they had been friends with, or had been working with them within the past year. They didn’t have many girl-friends; when you’re front page on practically every entertainment article about how loud and tatty you usually were tended to result in hatred by the mass population of women. Regardless, there were enough girls to be friendly with; when you’re drunk in a pub at three in the morning searching for a passionate night with someone, it’s less likely you’re going to keep your eye out to not sleep with someone as attractive as the Gallaghers. “Is it Matilda?” 

“No,”

“Evelyn?”

“No,”

“Nicole?”

“No! It’s Y/N!” Noel yelled, agitated by his brother's bombarded neediness to know.

“So not Nicole?” 

“No,” he repeated, his mind beginning to despise the word after the countless amounts of it rushing off his tongue in the mass of a few seconds.

“Good, because I like Nicole,” Liam mumbled, gazing straight at the window, intently listening to the quiet sound of cars driving by on the road beside them. 

Shocked, the older brother bunched his eyebrows together and squinted his eyes. “You have Patsy, Liam,”

“Yeah, but,” the younger brother began, before being caught in realisation. “Wait, Y/N?” 

Sighing, Noel came to a conclusion that there was no way of escaping the situation. “Yes, her,” he replied, taking the song out of Liam’s palms. He had stared blankly at the sheet hundreds of times, lost in a dream, yet each time he felt as if he was reading it for the first. Every time his eyes laid upon the first few lines, his heart felt as if it was a balloon being punctured with a toothpick on accident, cascading out of a little child’s hand in the middle of the sidewalk, flying onto the road making it unable to get a hold of it again. The kid cries, but the mother tells him to get over it, you’ll get another soon, she says. Noel rarely spoke to Y/N, and when he did, he either stuttered or was too drunk to finish a sentence. She made his heart flutter, in the most endearing ways, receiving a small smile from the girl brightened his day to the fullest. Sometimes he wondered if he was in love with her, love at first sight when they first locked eyes in the recording studio, the band’s manager introducing them to the band as the recording assistant. She was the prettiest girl he had ever laid eyes upon.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Liam asked, wrapping an arm around Noel. “Or even, why haven’t you gone out with the girl yet? She’s single ain’t she?” 

Noel nodded his head, staring down at his fingers as they cradled the sheet cautiously, hoping not to rip it in the slightest. “I was thinking of showing the song to her, since I have no fuckin’ clue how I’m supposed to tell her how I feel,” he added, pulling his hand up to chew on his nails - out of nervousness of the idea of presenting such a heart-wrenching song to her. 

“Tell her tomorrow, show her the song after recording,” Liam suggested, slipping his top lip into his mouth, wondering what was battling his brother’s thoughts. He had never seen his brother so naive to how to talk to a girl, tell her he wants to go out for a drink with her, enjoy each other’s company as friends, not co-workers, for once. It was like the entire topic was something so new to the sibling - not even his brother could aid him with directions over what to do, exactly presenting a child the quadratic form, they would never be able to understand it. 

A few long, impatient seconds whistled by in the room - the ambience tense yet soft, bubbled to the brim with thought. Liam didn’t want to say anything else, knowing his brother wouldn’t answer; he wanted to wait for a well thought out response, one that would make sense - unlike receiving flat-out no’s, which brought both boys off guard over the repetitiveness. “You think it's good enough?” Noel questioned, locking eyes with the opposing brother once again. Funnily enough, he knew the exact answer he was going to receive; he could hear it in the room, bouncing off of the walls, the exact words rolling off of Liam’s tongue. He knew him so well, he didn’t need a conformation of words as they fell off of his lips.  

“Go for it,”

~~~

After another strenuous day of recording, bickering, and a sporadic storming out by the lead singer, they somehow managed to record two songs: Acquiesce and Headshrinker, both songs to be included in their first single release, Some Might Say, for their upcoming album. There was high anticipation for this forthcoming LP - tabloids had the topic stained on their lips, the matter embossed in their heads, it being the only thing they were able to talk about with a such excitement, almost exactly like the buzz the band received with their first album, due to it becoming the fastest selling debut LP in the UK charts. Everyone was shocked by their sudden appearance, and along with their rugged up, tough looks, you couldn’t take your eyes off of them. Unsurprisingly, the air in the room was filled with up to the brim in fog - all from the hundreds of joints that were scruffily wrapped up and burnt, all up to its butt to be chucked away in the dustbins. There were ashtrays decorated all around the room; some practically overflowing in dust, others merely sprinkled in ash it could almost present as unused and clean. Time felt distant; with the clock itching to strike hour 5, the atmosphere was left fussy, all five boys drained entirely from the ridiculous amounts of re-recordings they had to do, along with Guigsy being especially annoyed by a decision their label had made for an upcoming gig they seemingly had to start planning for. Bollocks, he shouts, slouching down in his seat, as Bonehead scoffs at his continuous childlike behaviour.

“Right well, I’m out,” Liam yells, his eyes immediately drifting onto Noel. Giving his sibling a nod, he grabs hold of his spliff again, his fingers softly entwining with the roughened fabric, inhaling sharply before exhaling out its poignant contents in front of Y/N’s face. “Bye, Y/N,” he adds, turning his head away and swaying out the door - trying to present a cool-like physique. The rest of the boys follow, except Noel. She laughs at him, whispering a short bye before carrying on with her previous activities. The boys were planning on going to the nearest bar to  hang out, we deserve it after all our hard work and dedication to this shitting album, Liam would always repeat. Not like their lives aren’t situated with cigarettes, bars and alcohol practically everyday. I want to find a bird to sleep with. You have Patsy! Oh, yeah.  

After everyone had left, it was only Noel and Y/N left in the space. Noel was sat in the recording room, playing around with the strings on one of his many Gibson’s, his fingers lightly tapping on the metal cords, attempting to settle another melody for another upcoming song he had thought about. He was always like this. He was the definition of the I’ll-see-you-guys-there type; he constantly had something to do beforehand. He carried such a creative mind, you never wanted to interrupt him when he was left in his element, you knew he was going to create something amazing - he always did. Y/N currently had her headphones on, her head slowly bopping to the sounds of the music she was playing as her eyes were focused on the controls. Every few seconds she would mess around with the controls, either boosting the bass or lowering the sound of the guitars, continuously finding something fun to do with the tunes. As the song she was listening to had come to a close, she clapped lightly to herself, accompanied with a wide grin plastering on her face. Listening to music was her favourite thing in the world to do; it repeatedly gained her such emotional satisfaction you’d envy it from afar. 

His eyes drifted onto stare at Y/N. Every time he laid her eyes on her, he was perpetually enthralled. Enthralled by her presence, enthralled by how much dedication she can hold to one small, simple thing - she never seemed to get tired by anything, even by his younger brother’s whiney behaviour. She was most certainly the best one to speak to him whenever he was pissed, agitated or refusing to do as everyone was telling him to: whether it be because of an argument he had in the midst of recording about how the lyrics sounded, resulting in him storming out, or about a petty comment that was slipped out of their managers’ lips about how hard they are to work with, she consistently knew what to do. Her voice always held this calming tone, almost like she could never shout, get mad, even if she tried to. What made Noel inspired for his songs wasn’t the same, rapid rush of exhilaration that he’d gain as he was nearing finishing the song; it was the Oasis in her eyes that motivated him. She saw them as this power, this light that no one was able to obtain, Noel being the only one able to unlock the true colours behind it. The mastermind. Whatever she said, whatever followed off her tongue professedly felt like it came straight out of a book - no matter what conversation was occurring. Her words would repeat in his head until they became engraved and cherished, saved for another moment to remember.  It would never leave his mind. He was constantly captivated by her, in the most desiring ways.

“What are you doing?” Noel asked, attempting to hold a conversation. His fingers were still messing around with the cords, this time his other arm resting on his lap instead of situated on the neck of the guitar. He watched her head lift up, switching her gaze from the controls to instantly lock eyes with Noel, a bright smile now glued onto her face. 

“Just having a bit of a play with the controls,” she grinned. “And you, mister Noel?” 

Laughing lightly at the tiny nickname he had received from her, his heart warmed by her blissful aura of everything he had wanted to see in a girl. She always carried optimism wherever she went, consistently held her head up high. “Figuring out something for a song,” he mumbled to her, to which she nodded her head slowly in reply, her eyes now staring at the guitar placed on his lap. Her eyes kept switching from to the nape of the instrument straight to its body, practically analysing everything that was on it. This carried on for a few seconds, the air mute until Noel decided to speak up with something he was anxious about bringing up. “I wanted to show you something,”

Building up enough courage, Noel placed his electric guitar on the stand next him, exiting the crammed recording room to quickly enter the lounging space. Y/N’s eyes never left his body; her curiosity stretched out in the masses towards the lanky boy’s withdrawn approach, striking her attention right away. The entire time he avoided locking eyes with her, trotting into the space quickly as he went to grab a random acoustic thrown on one of the couches in the room, knowing his nerves would reach a breaking point soon enough, for even thinking of creating contact with her enticing, sunlit orbs, filled with an itch of interest and consistent undivided attention, would cause him to shrivel back into the young Mancunian boy he once was, before stuttering slightly and rushing out of the room - danced in embarrassment. He had never come across a girl who was able to strike him in such a way his nervous system was at a risk of collapsing, the only songs he was able to write about people tended to either be his brother, or situations with friends - for it was never a girl, he was never like that. 

Snatching the previous seat of the acoustic that was cradled in his arms, Noel pulled the instrument closely to his body - the wooden material now in contact with his clothed chest. Inhaling the air as if it were a spliff coiled with weed, he took deep breaths, counting down from the number five before speaking up again. “This one’s called Talk Tonight,” he echoed, before his fingers - as if magically casted a spell - automatically shifted places on the fretboard, beginning to strum the solemn notes, beautified with adoration. At this point, Y/N’s chair was completely swivelled, her gaze fixated exactly on Noel, her heart agape as she marvelled at the boy merely inches in front of her. The heavy strums were the only thing sounding in the room, settling on a peaceful, luscious tone, containing powers to set you in a stupor of harmony, reconciliation, sending you straight to sleep in just a few seconds. It had power to heal you, like an antidote adorning your skin, the pain at first making your face scrunch up in distress, then relaxing after a short while, pleasure washing over your veins to realise you were finally healed. 

Once Noel began singing, he became a different person. His nerves were long gone - escaped from his mind, for all tension was now released from his body as his fingers swept across the strings freely. Without even looking at Noel, it was clear that the piece he was performing meant a lot to him, his vocal chords perfecting the notes in hilarity, infatuated by the idea that he was truly presenting it, in real life, to the girl he couldn’t stop thinking about for days on end.  He was singing it like he had nothing left to lose, for he was unmasking a side to him he never dared to even think of letting escape; it all his thoughts, his feelings, pouring out in a short 3-minute song, pacified with emotion - it was impossible not to feel an attachment to the music. As he was nearing the last couple lines of the song, he lifted his stare from his instrument, looking to see if Y/N was watching him, and to his surprise, he was instantly met with her gaping at him. Their eyes were glued to one another’s, almost like they were afraid to blink, or do something to prevent not sharing the moment with each other - even if that meant having your eyes burn out of dehydration. 

“I wanna talk tonight, Until the morning light, ‘Bout how you saved my life, I wanna talk tonight.”                                                                                         

After the song ended, there was immediate clapping from Y/N. It was the same, quiet clapping she bestowed earlier when she had finished listening to one of their demos by the control centre, but this time for Noel, and only him. “Was that for me?” she asked, her grin blaring out in her words. She knew it was, all from the beginning with his awkward walking to grab the guitar, yet she still asked anyways. Noel didn’t answer, looking away to stare at his free hand stroking the couch nimbly. He didn’t know what to say, slightly embarrassed yet glad he finally accomplished what he was trying to muster out for months. At first it was a quickened heartbeat as she walked past him, him being all flushed out with a simple doing, to not even knowing what to say when she asked him a question about his guitar riff he performed, to which he’d turn to look at Bonehead, asking him to reply a question he didn’t know the answer to. “Because if that’s the case, I feel the same way,” she added, knowing Noel’s head would turn almost immediately. And it did. He was met with her lips, brushing against his teasingly, their noses colliding together, on the verge of morphing into each other. He felt that he had finally found the one person who understood him best among anyone he knew; he felt as if she knew him more than he knew himself, without even communicating. It was a feeling so scarce and infrequent, he finally understood life for what it really was, for he would prefer dying in that exact moment than pulling away, having to endure the ache of realisation: realisation he would never have a moment so perfect ever again. 

[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part one

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

A/N IMPORTANT: Hey folks! As you can see, I’ve REVIEWED the first four parts of this series! The changes I’ve made are important because they set everything up for the rest of the story.

Something to note is that this series is au and explores the fight against Vought from a completely different point of view. The story will reference certain episodes from S1 and S2, but diverges on many other aspects. The Black Noir here depicted is au as well, and while I’ve tried to portray the darker side of him, I’m reevaluating other aspects of his personality. THIS BLACK NOIR IS NOT TAKEN FROM THE COMICS! I don’t think I could even write about that character.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Boys, only my OC and some of this story’s plot line.

                 Posting new chapters every Wednesday and Friday! 

            Night at the gala

It was a requirement for the Seven to attend the string of galas that Vought organized. It could easily be considered a marketing strategy as it was an easy way to display their product, their heroes, to some of the most powerful and influential individuals in the country. During the first few years, the team’s excitement was real. Their personalities showed and they engaged in deep conversation with guests. But as the years went on, that curiosity and pride turned to arrogance, and those hearty laughs morphed into tight-lipped smiles, hiding clenched teeth. 

Bound by their contracts, they were to swallow their disgust for these events, and act personable around the attendees.

Only one team member was allowed to refrain from the conversation: Black Noir. Since mutism is a defining aspect of his persona, all that was needed was his silent, mysterious presence. He would choose to sit at a small, vacant table towards the margins of the room, somewhere out of the spotlight. And then he’d just pass the evening alone and in silence, watching people’s movements with a careful eye.

He didn’t mind the stillness, so much as the fact of it being used as a prop. Already two people had walked up to him and tried to elicit a response. When they realized that he truly wouldn’t speak, they left satisfied. Content and laughing, they had no idea he could disembowel them in a blink of the eye.

Scouring the area, he saw elegant women walk and hang off politician’s arms; he watched Homelander talk to different people, who were gathered around him and listening intently to his every word. The superhero laughed and patted one man on the back. Sure, he had everyone fooled, but Black Noir saw through it. His jaw was clenched, and if you looked hard enough, the forced smile and dark look in his eyes could easily be read as murderous. 

But then a sweeping dark blue caught his eye. To his left, off towards the center of the room and under the bright lights, he saw a woman.

In a long, blue dress, she walked over towards a group of co-workers who greeted her with big smiles and compliments on the simple, yet elegant look she’d chosen for the evening. Her hair was pulled up, letting Black Noir get a glimpse of the radiant smile that graced her face. Stunning. 

Fixated on her face, he memorized every detail.

At a first glance, she seemed simple enough like someone who could easily blend into a crowd. She was beautiful but didn’t flaunt it. What really captivated Black Noir, though, was the energy surrounding her. Her thick, chocolate curls. The slight skip in her step. The sway of her hips. That smile. She was magnetic.

It was as if something moved in him, something shifted out of place. For the first time in his lifetime, he felt like he wanted to speak. Like he needed to. After a moment of careful calculation, he stood up and smoothly crossed the room towards her. Once he thought he was close enough, he sat again and listened to the bright woman speak excitedly to his right. She was positively radiant. That’s all he could think, radiant. He looked forward, his eyes trained on Homelander as the man crossed through a crowd, shaking hands. But his mind stayed focused on her. He sensed her movements, how her hands become a part of her speech. He inhaled deeply and relaxed. 

“Come on, try to understand,” she said with mirth, “you would’ve been late, too, if that had happened to you.” She paused, only to continue, “In fact, seeing as how you’re the drama queen, I’m convinced you wouldn’t have shown up at all.”

The whole group started laughing except for one young man who sputtered in fake indignation. Soon, he too joined in with a laugh of his own.

When she laughed, he had to train his focus on a point of the room in front of him, or he thought he might shift in his spot to gaze at her. 

But then she moved away, and finally, he saw her glide onto the dance floor with one of the young men, maybe the one she had just been teasing. Were they together? It was gnawing at him, and he could feel the blood rush to his brain, pumping hard through his veins. They weren’t dancing very close, but nonetheless, they both looked comfortable in each other’s presence. He got a glance of her face amid the crowd, her features framed by two long, elegant earrings. She was smiling, content. The man pulled her closer. Black Noir gripped the arm of his chair hard and let go only when he realized he’d crushed the metal. He took a few breaths, knowing he needed to leave before he lost control. 

And more importantly, he needed to find out who the woman was.

As he moved away from the noise and up to his living quarters, her eyes were blazed into his mind.

 PART 2  PART 3  PART 4  PART 5

Giulia

[just-a-normalpersons]

The Gala

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Warning: Fluff

You were standing in front of your closet, trying to find something to wear for the gala Tony was throwing your girlfriend Natasha tonight.

She had just come back from a two-month mission, in which she managed to discover and sabotage Hydra’s plan to slowly infiltrate S.H.I.E.L.D and the avengers. And Tony being Tony, took every chance to throw one of his extravagant, over the top parties.

Which lead to your current dilemma, deciding what to wear for the gala. You were hesitating between a red dress with a long slit up your right leg, or a simple but elegant long black dress. In the end you decided to go with the red dress, purely because you knew Natasha would like it.

You hadn’t seen Natasha yet, she left your room early this morning before you were awake, presumably to finish the last bit of paperwork from her mission and talk to Fury. Tony had also mentioned he needed to talk to her, so you were afraid you would only see her at the gala.

While you were laying out your outfit for tonight, you were suddenly startled by a loud knock on the door, followed by the sound of footsteps and the door being opened.

“Y/N! There you are! I need to talk to you about the gala tonight.”

Tony loudly proclaimed while marching into your room full of confidence.

“Tony! Next time wait until I let you in, you can’t just come waltzing in here like you own the place. What do you need?”

Tony just looked at you grinning from ear to ear before speaking up again.

“Darling, I do own the place remember? But I had some ideas for the gala tonight. I want you to give a speech about our beloved super spy, given that the gala is in her honour. I’ll obviously say a few words myself as well, but who better to give the actual speech than her second half? The gala starts at 8, so your speech will be at 9. Come prepared and good luck darling.”

With a last parting wink, Tony turned around and walked out of your room again, leaving you no time to respond to what he just said. It looks like you had a speech to write for tonight, something you weren’t prepared for in the slightest.

You had been sitting behind your desk for three hours, ten papers laying crumpled up next to your chair, while the paper in front of you was still blank. However, the gala started in an hour and you really had to start getting ready. Looks like you will have to improvise tonight. You just hoped that inspiration would strike at the last moment.

It was ten to eight and you were on your way to the gala, to make sure you were on time. You hoped Natasha would be there already, since you couldn’t wait to see her again.

You walked through the doors of the mansion Tony hired for the gala, and to say you were impressed would be an understatement. Tony really had outdone himself once again. Everything was subtly decorated with white and gold, there were ice sculptures standing on several places in the room and you could see a small stage in the front. In the left corner was a small band playing classical music and on the right side of the room was an open bar.

Your eyes wandered around the room, trying to find the one person you wanted to see the most.

While you had seen most of the avengers, you still hadn’t found your girlfriend. Suddenly you felt two hands covering your eyes, which caused you to immediately turn around, since there was only one person those hands could belong to.

“Guess who?”

She softly whispered in your ear. You couldn’t stop grinning and decided to tease her a bit.

“Wanda? Or maybe Carol?”

She removed her hands, lightly slapping you on your shoulder, allowing you to finally take in her appearance. You were dumbfounded. She wore a tight black dress, her hair was slightly wavy, falling perfectly around her face and her piercing green eyes bored straight into your soul.

“Wow Nat, you look absolutely amazing.”

You told her while pecking her cheek before giving a light peck to her lips.

“Coming from you. I can’t believe this goddess standing in front of me is my girlfriend.”

She told you while tightly gripping your hand, intertwining your fingers, making you blush.

The two of you started to walk towards the rest of your friends, sometimes stopping to speak to some other people. After a while, you excused yourself to get some drinks for you and Natasha, promising her you would be back in a few seconds.

However, while you were standing at the bar, you suddenly heard Tony’s voice and you saw him standing on the little stage, behind the microphone.

“Welcome everyone! I hope everyone is enjoying themselves! Thank you all for coming to this little party I threw in honour of my dear friend and co-worker, Natasha Romanoff! Now before I continue, I would like to invite Y/N Y/L/N up here to say some words!”

A spotlight shined down on you, while you started to make your way over to the stage. Damn Tony for making you do this. You could feel yourself starting to sweat and you just hoped your speech would go well, it was the least Natasha deserved.

“Good evening everyone! I’ve known Natasha for about six years now, and every single day, she keeps surprising me. One of the first things she told me after we met, was that she had red in her ledger and would like to wipe it out. She believed that she could do that by dedicating her life to the Avengers. What she doesn’t know, is that she wiped her ledger clean long ago. Tonight, we’re all here to celebrate her. Especially the success she had with her last mission, but I’m also her to celebrate her as a person. She’s my inspiration and I don’t know what the world would look like without her. To Natasha!”

You ended your speech with raising the champagne glass Tony had handed you, as a way of toasting to Natasha. You quickly climbed down from the stage, to make your way back to Natasha.

She already started making her way over to you and pulled you to the side as soon as she reached you so that the two of you could have a little more privacy.

She pulled you into a kiss before talking to you, while leaning her forehead on yours.

“I love you so much baby. Thank you so much for believing in me. But I couldn’t do half the things I do without you, I may be your inspiration, but you’re mine. I just hope you know that.”

“I love you too Nat, and I meant every word I just said. I always knew you were going to change the world. Because you changed mine the moment you entered it. Just don’t sell yourself short, you’re one of the best persons I know.”

Natasha just responded by pressing her lips against yours once again. You saw a mischievous glint appearing in her green eyes and she grabbed your hand once again, tugging you with her.

“Let’s go home love, I think we’ve been here long enough.”

You just smiled at her in response and let her drag you away from the party, just happy that she was home once again.  

[hexalt]

Schitt’s Creek and the Transformative Power of Love

I first watched the pilot for Schitt’s Creek in the early part of 2019 and found it...eccentric. Not really funny, the characters weren’t speaking to me (except for Stevie (Emily Hampshire), whom I felt a kinship with), and the story seemed odd. I decided this show just wasn’t for me, and I had given it my best shot. Many months later, one of my best friends was posting about it frequently. Since we have the same taste, I thought maybe it was just the pilot. Maybe I should give it another shot. Maybe this time I’ll actually like it. So I started it from the pilot again, and I kept watching even if I wasn’t thoroughly entertained. I soon grew to love the two black sheep and having characters you understand always makes things easier.

What I didn’t realize when I started the show was that the characters were each more than they seem, they weren’t meant to be shallow jokes of themselves and their personas. The way they acted was often a façade hiding their insecurities of not being good enough in a variety of ways. The only other show that I’ve seen with a somewhat similar premise is Arrested Development, but there the characters are supposed to be absolutely ignorant, privileged assholes with no redeeming qualities.

I didn’t realize each season is better than the last, an astounding and rare feat in television. The quality of each season improves as the show quickly finds its footing by discarding early storylines that didn’t really work and letting the characters slowly becoming more grounded and open. This family that was once so distant that the parents didn’t even know their daughter’s middle name eventually develop genuine relationships for the first time with each other and other people.

Schitt’s Creek, co-created by father and son, Eugene (American Pie, Best in Show) and Dan Levy, wanted us to ultimately empathize with these characters, even if the remnants of their wealth can make them profoundly delusional and hilarious a lot of the time. Before writing the show, they created timelines going back to their characters’ elementary school years, detailing everything from where they worked to what they wore.

The fashion on the show is distinct and the best dressed I’ve seen in any show (and most films). Dan is huge into fashion and personally selects a lot of pieces worn in the show (some of David’s clothes are even from his own wardrobe). Instead of constantly telling the audience that this family used to be rich, we are reminded of it through Moira’s wall of wigs and couture black and white ensembles, David’s patterned black sweaters and low crotch pants, Alexis’s bohemian dresses and headbands, and Johnny’s array of business suits. When they enter any room in town, they are clearly fish out of water.

Schitt’s Creek centers on the Roses, a once-disgustingly wealthy family who lose their fortune and are forced to move to the only asset they have left: a small town named Schitt’s Creek that Johnny Rose (Eugene Levy) bought as a joke for his son, David (Dan Levy). So dilapidated is Schitt's Creek and so destitute are the Roses, they don't even have a house of their own; instead they are forced to live in a motel with two connecting rooms, forgoing all the luxury they had become accustomed to and, more terrifyingly, are now physically closer than ever.

While at first the family is horrified at the prospect of living in such a small town with townies, they eventually embrace the weirdness of the town, and it makes them grow in unexpected ways. Johnny was once the owner of the second-largest video rental store in the country and retains his businessman-like self through and through, but he also began the show more uppity. While he is often the most reasonable of the Roses, he often sees himself as above others in town and gets into awkward situations because of it. Over the course of the show he ends up developing a friendship with the town mayor to whom he initially had yelled “get the fuck out!” While he’s always devoted to his wife, he wasn’t so keen on his children, but being forced to live together makes him take a larger interest in their lives and become a better father.

Alexis (Annie Murphy) is the quintessential “dumb blonde” socialite who’s had a Schitt-ton of relationships with powerful men, making stories of her past highly entertaining, often illegal, and frequently frightening. She clearly grew up way too fast, never having had proper adult supervision. She’s reliant on men, and all she can think about in season one is trying to date cute guys. In the following seasons, she realizes it’s time to start growing up and gets her high school and Associate’s Degree to start her own PR business. She becomes a more enlightened version of herself, still deeply kind but also willing to put the happiness of others above her own. The Alexis who previously couldn’t see beyond her own nose becomes independent and more selfless.

David’s had hundreds of flings with people of all genders, but they seem to be replete with abuse, manipulation, and a lack of care for his being. This is unsurprising when we see how he hides his insecurity behind sarcasm and sometimes downplays things he doesn’t like to fit in. He fears showing kindness to anyone because others haven’t always been so kind to him. Early on, he has a panic attack and comes to the realization that he’s “really lonely here,” but he’s been lonely for a lot longer than that. What he doesn’t expect is to make his first best friend or find his soon-to-be husband in this backwater town. In the process, he learns to shed some of his armor.

Moira (Catherine O’Hara) was once on a soap opera, Sunrise Bay, and retains the melodrama in her day-to-day life and demeanor. She is constantly trying to become what she believes is a star: someone who acts in film, someone who everyone mourns when they die, someone who people will just pay one sliver of attention to. She’s desperately trying to cling to the spotlight, but in “Life is a Cabaret,” she finds what I believe will be her place come this final season. Rather than trying to constantly soak up attention, she gives Stevie the starring role in the town’s production of Cabaret (which Moira comes to direct) because getting that role was a “gift that once jolted [her] out of [her] little podunk routine.” From the wings of the stage, as Stevie slowly builds into “Maybe This Time” with such breathtaking passion and joy after starting off unsure and quiet, Moira is shocked at what she was able to bring out of Stevie. She’s finally realizing that her place isn’t center stage but in bringing out the best in others and helping them find their place in the world.

Stevie Budd begins as the desk clerk of the Schitt’s Creek motel until her great-aunt passes away, and she inherits the motel. From there she has to decide whether she’s ready to grow up and take over the family business, and she’s terrified. Johnny soon teams up with her in the business, renovating the motel and renaming it after both of them, so she sees the Roses aren’t going to abandon her. She is part of the Rose’s found family. Her and David are similar in their bluntness and sarcasm, but Stevie is insecure about never making it out of the town, never being more than a motel desk clerk, never having a long-term romantic relationship. She worries while everyone moves on with their lives, she’s “watching it all happen from behind the desk.”

Dan describes creating Schitt’s Creek as “writing a world that examines the transformational effects of love when the threat of hate and intolerance has been removed from the equation.” While homophobia is often front and center in any media depicting LGBT characters, Schitt’s Creek doesn’t give it as much thought. Where small towns are usually seen as ripe for homophobia, transphobia, and other discrimination, Schitt’s Creek doesn’t fall prey to this trope. Instead, this small town is bursting with love.

Dan purposely made David pansexual (it’s also the only show I’ve seen use the word) to challenge the viewer’s biases and push the boundaries of what it means to be masculine and feminine. David’s parents and others in the town never discuss it as anything strange or bad, it’s something he simply is and as common as the sky being blue. When David tells Stevie about his sexuality (“I like the wine, not the label”), she’s a bit surprised at first because she thought he was gay, but ultimately she doesn’t care.

This doesn’t mean the show never discusses what homophobia can be like, but it comes at it from a different lens.

For example, in “Meet the Parents,” David decides to throw a surprise birthday party for his boyfriend, Patrick Brewer (Noah Reid). What David doesn’t realize is Patrick hasn’t come out to his parents yet, they think David is solely his business partner. He tells David, “I know my parents are good people, I just...can’t shake this fear that there is a small chance that this could change everything.” David himself is prepared for homophobia from Patrick’s parents, but when they tell him they don’t care about that, just that he was hiding such an important part of himself from them, David who’s been trying to stay strong through it all wipes a tear.

“When I found myself in a position to tell stories on a global scale, I seized the opportunity to make a television show that might, in its own way, offer some support, encouragement and love to those who might not have it in their homes or in their schools or in their day to day lives. It’s a place where acceptance incubates joy and creates a clarity that allows people to see themselves and each other more deeply. It’s fiction, yes. But I’ve always been told to lead by example and this felt like a good place to start.”

— Dan Levy

I would be remiss to not touch on the comedic style of the show. This is a comedy that relies heavily on the physicality of its actors. Their facial expressions, accents and tonality, their limp wrists, each create uniquely funny characters with mannerisms unlike any I’ve seen. The cast brought nuance to the characters, when they could have easily fallen into vapid stereotypes.

As season 6 premiered on January 7, Schitt’s Creek is not done yet, and I can’t wait to see how its final season concludes. The characters are all happier now that they are achieving dreams they may not have known they had, they have fulfilling relationships with family and friends, and they all have grown into better people. Schitt’s Creek truly was their saving grace.

*

I’m in a TV group where we wrote essays on our favorite shows of the 2010s, so here is mine on Schitt’s Creek.

[merakiaes]

Jealous Of The Star Spangled Man - Jack Thompson

Pairing: Jack Thompson x reader

Requested: Yes. 

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: I haven’t seen the show in a while so sorry if I got any details wrong, I’ll be rewatching it soon so if I’ve made any mistakes I’ll go back and change them then. Not proofread so I apologize in advance if there’s any errors in spelling or grammar! Please leave some love and let me know what you think xx

Wordcount: 2374

Summary: When Steve returns to Peggy, the two of you immediately hit it off. Peggy couldn’t care less, but others might get a bit threatened by the Star-Spangled Man With a Plan. 

It had been a relatively calm week at the phone company, now that Whitney Frost and the Zero Matter had been dealt with and the dangers had been eliminated.

It had been very stressful for you, seeing as you hadn’t been as hands-on in the case as Peggy, Jack and Daniel had, and therefore hadn’t been there to keep an eye on Jack when they were in Los Angeles.

During their time there, you had been stuck back in New York City in the office with the rest of your peers, anxiously awaiting your boyfriend’s return.

It had been stressful enough to not have any idea of what was going on, so when he didn’t come home the night he had told you he would and you a few hours got a call during which you learned that he had been shot in his hotel room and was in the hospital, you hadn’t even been able to breathe.

The attempt on his life was a new problem in itself that you would eventually have to deal with, but for the time being, just having him back with you in New York, safe and on his way to recovery, was enough to give you some peace of mind.

He had been in the hospital for two entire weeks after his near-death experience. An entire week went by before he woke up and when he did wake up, he was in recovery for another seven days before he was released and allowed to return to work.

Much to his dismay, however, he hadn’t been allowed to do any groundwork since getting back, with his arm being in a sling as it would until the gunshot wound was all healed up.

He was stuck in the office filling out paperwork with the rest of you. He did get to participate in the investigation of finding his shooter, though, now being the new Chief of your unit and having some say on the matter.

It was, much to your relief, enough to satisfy him for the time being, even if it was from behind a desk and not from any actual investigative work.

You were glad, because if he hadn’t been satisfied, you knew he would’ve gone out and gotten himself into even more trouble and your poor heart just couldn’t handle any more if it.

And even though he would never admit it out loud, no matter how much he loved you, he was happy to finally be able to spend more time with you after the two of you having grown so distant during the last months’ events.

That was, until Captain American suddenly waltzed back into Peggy’s life like a ghost from the past, suddenly back from the dead and taking aaall of Jack’s spotlight; even when it came to you.

You hadn’t personally partaken in the war like Peggy had so you never got to meet Steve back then, but she had told you everything there was to know about her great love and when you met in person the first time, you hit it off immediately.

Not only had you both been born and raised in Brooklyn, but you also had in common the fact that you had both suffered through a majority of your lives being bullied and looked down on up until the point where you had changed for the “better” appearance-wise.

You got along like two peas in a pod, always chatting away whenever he would come to visit Peggy at work, and it was beginning to become unbearable for Jack to have to watch.

He gave off the impression that he was very secure in himself and he was, but the fear still always remained that you would leave him for someone else, and who better to leave him for than Captain America?

The fact that he was obviously head over heels in love with Peggy didn’t seem to matter to him. All he could see was another man talking to you, making you laugh.

Peggy wasn’t even batting an eye at it, casually flipping through the files sprawled out on his desk in his office while he watched you and Steve interact outside by your desk.

The office was mainly dark at this point, everyone but him and Peggy having gone home for the evening and you and Steve waiting for your respective significant others to finish up their work.

He could see you throwing your head back with laughter through the blinded window, and then watched with a sour scowl as you reached a hand up to touch Steve’s bicep while he went on about whatever it was you were talking about.

It was a small friendly gesture, but the way Jack saw it, it was a threat nonetheless.

“You’re not bothered at all by this?” He asked before he could stop himself, raising his hand to part the blinds and leaning closer to the window with squinted eyes to get a better look.

Peggy barely acknowledged him, merely throwing you and Steve a glance before turning her attention to him, raising an eyebrow and straightening up. “Should I be?”

Jack kept his eyes on you for another moment, before finally letting go of the blinds and turning away from the window to look at his female co-worker.

“Well, yeah. I mean, look at them.” He said, throwing his good arm out at the window.

Peggy simply sighed, slapping the folder in her hand down on his desk as she realized he wouldn’t be letting it go.

“They’re friends, Jack.” She told him with a pointed glare. “People can be friends with the opposite gender without there being something going on.”

“You and Steve were just friends too, once. That’s how every couple starts out.” He quickly pointed out, eyebrows raising and forehead crinkling in the process.

The corners of her lips tugged upward, her brown curls bouncing as she shook her head lightly. “No, we were never just friends.” She denied softly. “And neither were you and (Y/N), so quit your whining.”

She turned her body fully towards him, leaning on the side of his desk and shaking her head once more, her bright red lips now pulled into a straight line and her brown eyes sternly looking into his.

“What’s the point of being in a relationship if there’s no trust?” She asked him, and his face instantly darkened.

“I trust her.” He said, pointing a finger at the window. “It’s him I don’t trust.”

Peggy scoffed, pushing herself off the desk and crossing her arms over her chest, taking a step closer to him. “Jack, you cannot be serious. Do you hear yourself right now?” She asked. “You’re being very insecure and quite frankly extremely ridiculous.”

“I’m not insecure, I-” He cut himself short, breathing out deeply and bringing his hand up to his face, pulling it over his mouth and chin and moving around in his spot angrily.  

He looked around the room, everywhere but at her, taking a few deep breaths before turning his attention back to her. “You know what, this conversation is over.” He declared, plastering on a sarcastic smile. “Are we all done here?”

Peggy glared for another moment, before sighing, uncrossing her arms and turning her back to him. “Yes, time to go home.”

Jack wasted no time in moving over to the chair at his desk to take his coat that was hanging around the backrest, hanging it over his arm and grabbing his brown leather bag.

“Clean this mess up, will you?” He asked, or more like ordered, motioning for the mess of files sprawled over his desk.

In any other case, Peggy was sure to have fought him on the matter, but she had no energy for an argument this late into the evening and she was in no position to turn down helping a cripple, anyhow, even though Jack was just being the usual ass and not actually requiring assistance because of the fact that he currently only had one functioning arm.

She started pushing the papers back into the folders without protest and without as much as a word, Jack more or less ripped the door to his office open, the blinds hitting against the glass in the process and successfully grabbing yours and Steve’s attention.

You smiled widely at the sight of your boyfriend and Steve did too, ever the gentleman with no hate for anyone.

The two of you abandoned your conversation about this ice cream parlor in Brooklyn that you had both gone to when growing up, and how weird it was that you hadn’t met each other then, both of you slowly starting to walk to meet him halfway.

“Hey, baby.” You greeted him and wasted no time in grabbing the front of his shirt once you reached him, standing up on your toes to press a kiss to his lips.

It was short and sweet, or at least you thought so, completely oblivious to the way Jack was keeping his eyes on Steve the entire time, who in turn turned his head away from you out of respect to give you some privacy.

When you came back down to your feet and dropped your hands from his chest, the smile on your lips was even wider, and Steve slowly turned his head back to you, giving your boyfriend a polite smile and a nod of his head.

“All done for the day?” He asked, as always his well-mannered self.

But Jack wasn’t impressed, his face completely wiped free of emotion and his eyes hard. “Uh-huh.” He replied coldly and at that, your smile faltered as you finally began picking up on his offish mood.

Before you got the chance to question him about it, however, Peggy appeared in the doorway of his office. 

“Steve, can you get in here for a moment, please?” She asked, and Steve instantly nodded, wasting no time in heading her way.

Peggy didn’t actually want anything from him. She just wanted to give you a chance to rid Jack of his attitude, even if you had yet to realize the kind of mood he was in.

Once the door closed behind them, you looked back up at Jack to see that he was now looking toward the closed office, so you reached out and took his good hand in yours, searching out his gaze.

When his head turned back to you and his eyes met yours, you smiled, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

“I was thinking that maybe we could go out for dinner tonight, have a little date night. It’s been so long.” You spoke softly, and his eyebrow instantly shot up.

“Will Steve be joining us?” He asked and you raised an eyebrow.

“What?” You laughed. “Why would Steve come along to our date night?”

Jack shrugged his shoulders, the corners of his lips turning down. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with him since he came back, is all.”

You were at loss for words for a moment, trying to figure out what he was insinuating. Luckily, you were a bright woman, and realization hit you fairly quickly, your confusion being replaced with amusement.

“Jack Thompson…” You drawled, crossing your arms over your chest and smirking smugly. “Are you jealous, of The Star-Spangled Man with a Plan?”

Jack instantly turned sour, but he made no attempt to hide the obvious. “Maybe.” He admitted, his green eyes moving to the side before flickering back to you. “But only because you’re important to me, and I don’t want to lose you.”

“I would never leave you for anyone else, least of all Steve.” You wasted no time in assuring him, dropping the smug act. “He’s with Peggy and I’m with you, exactly how it’s supposed to be.”

You smiled softly, taking a step closer to him. “Come here…” You mumbled, reaching out for the jacket still hanging over his lower arm.

He let you take it and helped you along as you put it over his shoulders, putting his arm into the sleeve and watching you closely as you straightened it out over his shoulder on the side of his sling.

He watched as you moved your hands to straighten the collar of his coat, and then along to his chest to smooth out the wrinkles on his white shirt.

Slowly, he reached his hands up to grab a hold of your wrist, causing you to halt your movements and look up at him.

He took a small step closer to you, dropping your wrist and grabbing you by your waist to gently pull you even closer.

“I love you.” He mumbled, reaching his hand up to take your chin in-between his fingers.

Your lips immediately pulled into a wide smile, your hand moving to take his. “I love you too…”

The two of you began leaning in simultaneously, closing the distance and pressing your lips together in another, longer kiss.

You smiled against his lips the entire time, your entire body growing warm with tingles at the feeling of his fingertips gingerly tracing over your waist, right where your skirt met your blouse.

After a good minute of kissing, you finally pulled apart for air and with the smile now pulling at Jack’s lips, it would appear his attitude had gone away.

“Now…” He breathed, pressing his palm flat against your hip and raising an eyebrow. “Where does the special lady want to go for dinner?”

You bit down on your lip to hold back the smile. “I could really go for some Italian.” You shrugged and he chuckled, shaking his head, taking a step back and pointing his finger at you. 

“You’re extremely expensive to feed, you know that?” He asked, and you smiled innocently. “But how can I say no to my best girl, and that pretty smile of yours?”

Your smile only widened at his words, even more so when he bent down to peck your lips, his head nodding when you came back apart.

“Italian it is.” He agreed, and wasted no time in taking you under his arm, leading you out of the office, both of you completely oblivious to the two pairs of eyes watching you from behind the window, smiling to themselves.

Tagged: @corishirogane3​ @trenchcoatedwings​ @microwaved-timmies​

(If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, send me a message, ask or leave a comment)

[horrorslashergirl]

Chromeskull x Cop!Reader x The Collector

A dark themed erotic novel for the twisted minds

Resume: When there’s a third party, things might get a little difficult. Jealousy is an ugly characteristic and it might get you into a whole lot of trouble. 

Chapter 1: Nightshift Turn Out

Chapter 2: Twisted Tongue

Chapter 3: Rising from fire like the Phoenix

Chapter 4: Video Shadows

Chapter 5: New beginning and Past memories

Chapter 6: Lovers Reunion

Chapter 7: Sweet Blackmail

Chapter 8: False Freedom

Chapter 9: Ugly Jealousy (You are here)

Chapter 10: Sinful Ecstasy

You woke up with a headache, the sleep you had wasn't enough and it didn't help that you had to get your ass out of bed to prepare yourself for work. You took a quick shower, trying to wash the tiredness from your face, then dressed. Breakfast was out of the discussion, you weren't hungry, but you filled your dog's bowl with food before exiting and going to work, acting like everything was fine. You didn't want to have your co-workers ask you millions of questions if you were alright.

Everything went fine, some office paperwork, today you had no patrolling so you took all your time into the office, the AC blowing behind you, a sigh leaving your lips as your exhausted eyes took a glance at the clock on the wall; lunchtime. Maybe coffee and something sweet would ease your tension. Closing your laptop, you told your partner you will take some time off to get food, which he replied with a simple nod, his eyes too pulled into the stacks of papers and the computer.

Walking down the hallways, you exited the police station and were ready to go across the street to get yourself the nutriments for today, only to stop dead into your tracks, when your eyes meet the tall form of Jesse, leaning against the side of a Chrysler, 300c, all black with his hands into the pockets of his slacks, a smirk on his scarred face.

He wouldn't do something in public, in front of so many people and especially coworkers of yours that were outside smoking. You gulped down and got the courage to walk towards him, trying not to look scared, mostly so as not to raise unwanted questions and suspicions.

"I haven't told anyone anything, not a soul." you firstly said, trying not to stumble over your words. He pulled out his phone from his pocket, typing a message.

'I know, princess. We have our eyes on you all the time.'

Well, that calmed you down very much, but still, that didn't answer your question about why he was here.

'I thought you might be hungry since it's lunchtime. I brought you something.'

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as he opened the passager seat and pulled out a box, which contained your favorite food, along with a cup of coffee, just how you liked it, a little bitter with some milk, and what you loved most, strawberry cake.

"Why?" you hesitated, taking the box anyway since your stomach was making the thinking for you now.

'Why not? Isn't this what a lover is supposed to do to his most valuable person in life?'

That message made you all the more confused, not to mention a little angry. He wasn't your lover or boyfriend or any synonyms specified.

"You're not my lover. You kidnapped me, hurt me, and not to mention blackmailed me." you explained, trying to sound assertive, but at the same time trying not to draw attention to the both of you. You knew how your coworkers liked to gossip and prey on any juicy stories.

'Details, doll.' he waved off as it was nothing as if the words you said were just a joke to him, but then he narrowed his brown eye, his hand pulling you flush against his chest, a gasp leaving your lips. On one hand, he still had his phone, typing away with precision.

'Kiss me.'

That command, because request sure as hell wasn't, made your eyes widen and shivers to run down your spine, a bad feeling coming into your chest.

"W-What?" Kiss him in public? In front of your coworkers that was a few feet away from the two of you, clearly observing the whole scenario.

'I'm not a shy one, doll. Let them all see that you're taken, not to mention...Isn't it rude not to thank me for this treat?'

The bastard was playing with you now, and you knew that if you denied his words the outcome wouldn't be pretty; you constantly thought of your brother and how you need to protect him, despite you being his little sister.

"If I kiss you, will you leave?" you asked in a hushed voice, your face inches from his own, that smirked at your question, nodding slowly.

Taking a deep breath you leaned on your toes, so you could reach him and pressed your lips shyly against his rough ones, the kiss all innocent, until his free hand moved from your waist to the back of your neck, his fingers stroking the skin there, his tongue pocking out to brush against your lips.

You opened your eyes and looked into his half-lidded brown one, his gaze speaking 'Open up or else', so you slowly parted your lips, allowing him entry and he sure did take advantage of it, deepening the kiss and rubbing his tongue over yours, a slight moan vibrating from you, then as it started, it ended, leaving you a shocked and breathless mess.

Jesse knew you enjoyed it more than you let it know, the smug look he gave you, speaking much more.

'Thanks, doll. You're a peach, also I will pick you up after work and we are going to my place for a drink or two.'

That was his last message before he went inside the car, driving off and leaving you all speechless. Well, at last, you got free lunch, so you headed back inside the police station, not before taking a glance at your coworkers outside who had confused, shocked, and amused faces.

Great, you will be the primary discussion for one week from the looks of it. Walking down the hallways, you got inside your office, your partner still working while one of the female officers was there chatting with him. Her eyes looked up and when she saw you she smirked knowingly.

"What's with that smirk?" you asked, setting down the box with the food, getting ready to eat.

"How come you never told anyone you had a boyfriend? And a rich as fuck one." she said, with a raised eyebrow. Great, she was one of these gossip sharks who would love to sink their teeth into you for more spicy details.

"I don't think that is any business for work." you replied, trying not to give any information to this predator.

"I always thought you were asexual, but my....Girl, you really know how to pick em." she said, sitting down on your partner's desk, making him look up at her with an acidic look. Well, at last, you weren't the only one who wanted to stab her in the mouth.

"I mean...He is one tall fella...I bet his dick is something to be afraid of." she continued, her words made your coworker choke on his coffee, obviously disgusted by her dirty comments.

"How rich is he? Judging by his car and the way he dresses....I bet he rubs his money on your pussy, girl." she joked, laughing, only to stop when you banged your fist on your desk.

"Get the fuck out!" you screamed, a vicious glare shot directly in her direction. She made a quick dash for the door, tripping over her high heels on her way out. Your partner chuckled at your outburst.

"Well, that was quite amusing on your part. Never saw you angry before." he commented nonchalantly.

"All I want is to be left alone and do my work. I hate gossips." you groaned out, starting to eat your lunch, the delightful taste of it calming your nerves down.

"Good luck with that. This place stinks of predators ready to devour any information you have on yourself. I thought you knew this after so many months."

"Well, I wasn't exactly into the spotlight, until now." you grumbled, chewing on your food.

"Get used to it."

The rest of the day at work was full of tension; each time someone entered your office, he or she commented something about your 'lover', some comments were innocent some made your skin crawl.

You stretched your arms above your head as you saw that it was ending of the program; you couldn't wait to get home and have a bubble bath...maybe a movie? Of course, the pleasant dream was destroyed, when you remembered that Jesse had already plans for you.

As you exited the police station, you weren't that much surprised that the luxurious black car was waiting for you. Jesse wasn't joking and it made you start to walk towards it when he honked, signaling for you to hurry up.  You got inside the car, into the passager seat, next to Jesse, but not even sparing him a glance.

'Not gonna give daddy a kiss?' the robotic voice spoke up, making you blush and look slowly at him, reluctant as you saw the serious look he sported. Gulping down, you gave his scarred cheek a quick kiss, making the man smirk and laugh silently.

He let that go, and starting driving to his place, the drive there was as silent as ever, not even him giving you looks or anything, and that only amplified the tension.

After driving for one hour or so, you two got to his place, parking his car and leading you inside. All the flashbacks from what happened inside came to you, making you halt your steps a little, only for Jesse to push lightly on your lower back.

Entering, you didn't even have the time to speak, as Jesse pushed you against a wall, his arms caging you against his body, his nose buried into the crook of your neck, taking deep inhales of breath.

"W-What are you doing?" you shuttered, trying to push a little against his chest. He moved a little from you, taking his phone out so he could communicate with you.

'How was work?'

You narrowed your eyes at his question.

"Because of you, I was feeling like I was in a tank full of piranhas. You have any idea how people love to stick their nose into others business?" you asked with annoyance, glaring up at Jesse, who only smirked at your spitfire attitude.

'I know, but what's the problem? Let them all know who owns you. By the way, love that comment about how you are my sugar baby. Got me a little rilled up, doll.'

You couldn't take it anymore, you pushed hard against his chest, taking him by surprise as he stumbled one step behind.

"I have enough of this! I'm not an object you can own. I'm an independent woman and I can do whatever I want!" you screamed out at him, and in an instant, he had his hand wrapped around your throat, your back connecting again with the wall, but much harsher.

Jesse snarled down at you, brown eye flashing with annoyance.

'You think you have a choice? Well, you do have, but I don't think you want to lose your dear brother, because of this stupid female pride. You will get used to it, and maybe love it at some point, to be my gorgeous trophy on my part of the arrangement.'

Fear struck you, as you tried to pry his hand off of you, but without any luck.

'I suggest you learn your place. Trust me, I'm far worse than Asa.'

You whimpered, your eyes closed to look Jesse in the eye.

'All you have to do is get down on your hands and knees and by my little baby girl. Pretty easy for a spitfire as yourself. I will enjoy ripping this independence off of you.'

You felt humiliated by his words and squeaked as you felt his lips brush against yours. Your mind kept telling you to just take it what comes at you, that being arrogant and prideful won't save you or your brother.

'Don't let the sin of pride destroy what is most precious for you.' That's what your mind kept repeating over and over. A sigh left your lips, opening them for Jesse who smirked in victory and began to kiss you feverishly.

That was...until, a loud bang of the front door caused both of you to pull away, a fuming and angry Asa into the opened doors, obsidian eyes narrowing at Jesse.

"You. I thought we agreed on sharing her." he spoke, surprisingly calm, but you knew he was one more way from exploding into an inner rage.

'What's got your panties in a bunch, old man.' Jesse spoke through his phone, making Asa take a wide step forward.

"I saw her first." Asa snarled and you were shocked that Jesse was all laid-back about this.

'So? She's on my territory now. Finder's keeper.'

That last comment destroyed Asa's calmness and he lunged at Jesse, throwing a fist straight to the taller man's nose, your eyes widening as you took in the scene, both of them fighting, resulting in a bruised nose for Jesse, who spit blood out, and a busted lip for Asa; still they continued.

You couldn't take this anymore, so you followed your instincts, getting between them, your hands pushing against Asa's chest.

"S-Stop it! This is insane!" you screamed, making them stop and looked at you with shocked and unsure expressions.

Jesse was holding his bruised nose, blood coming out, and following down his mouth, his brown eye narrowed at the smaller male. You looked up to see one of Asa's eyes that started to form a purple bruise along with his busted lip, bleeding.

Asa looked down at you with a glare and something else you couldn't point out. You knew he was still angry by his deep inhales of breath.

"I-It isn't his fault! I agreed to come....I-I am sorry!" you tried to form out some excuses. Why? You didn't know. You might as well have let them beat the hell out of each other or even kill one another.

"You're sorry?" Asa calmly asked, taking a step towards you, only for you to step backward, until your back meets Jesse's front, who looked down at you with an equally bruised face as Asa.

"Are you trying to play us?" Asa snarled, eyes looking so feral down at you, all you could manage to get out were whimpers.

"Are you trying to get us against each other?" Asa asked again, his hand crawling up your chest until he grasped your neck, your eyes wide with terror.

"I've been patient, thought maybe we should have taken you easy and gentle." Asa continued, looking at Jesse, who's mouth pulled from a scowl to a smirk, already figuring out what they wanted to do to you.

"You're a brat. You know what happens to disobedient snobby brats?" Jesse's phone spoke up, one of his hands grasping and squeezing harshly your hip.

"You're gonna get punished tonight." Asa spoke firmly, his fingertips rubbing the skin of your neck, making you gulp down in anxiety for what was to come.

"Tonight. We. Are. Going. To. Fuck. You." Each word was spoken from Jesse's device along with a roll of his hips into yours, making you feel what was to come.

You. Were. Fucked.

To be continued...

[bananaofswifts]

“I just need to make a better record. I’m making a better record.” That’s what Taylor Swift said with striking calm in one of the most memorable clips from her Netflix documentary, Miss Americana, after finding out that her 2017 album, reputation, had been shut out of the 2018 Grammys’ Big Four categories.

Her next release, Lover, didn’t quite live up to Swift’s ambitions, at least on the awards front: In 2019, its only major Grammy nod was for song of the year, for the title track. But now, thanks to her record-breaking, surprise (and surprising) pandemic release, folklore, she may have made a record that’s “better” in the eyes of voters. Swift’s only album to spend its first four weeks at No. 1 on the Billboard 200, folklore pushes her songwriting into new territory, trading stadium-pop sheen for the subtle, layered production of prestige indie-rock, thanks in part to an unlikely collaborator: The National’s Aaron Dessner.

Dessner, 44, has been making music for over two decades, collaborating with everyone from close friends like Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon — with whom he co-founded the band Big Red Machine and more recently the independent label 37d03d, a partnership with Secretly Group — to Mumford & Sons and world-class orchestras. With nine co-writes and 11 production credits (some of which he shares with Jack Antonoff), folklore is Dessner’s most high-profile project yet and could well get him a producer of the year nomination. (He previously won a Grammy for best alternative music album with The National at the 2018 ceremony.)

‘’Jack and I thought this would be a record we loved but had no expectations commercially,” says Dessner. “So the fact that it’s this weird smash — of course it would be amazing to win or be nominated. But it’s not on my list of things I feel that I need to accomplish in life. I really couldn’t be more proud of folklore. And also just like, ‘What the fuck, how did this happen?’”

You’ve said the best musical experiences you’ve had have come from moments of spontaneity. How does that apply to folklore?

It’s exactly that. I feel like I would not have been able to go toe-to-toe with Taylor in the way that I did if I hadn’t done everything else that I’d ever done. To me, making songs with your friends in some basement 20 years ago or producing records for totally unknown artists is just as important as when you end up, by some weird stroke of serendipity, in a crazy collaboration with someone who is so gifted. I had really run the gantlet of so many experiences that I was in a spot where when she came, there were fireworks, musically, between us. And we had the work ethic to see it through.

Once she reached out to you, how did you prepare to work with Swift?

Well, I’ve definitely listened to all her records — I do that from time to time, just binge-listen to certain things — and I could tell she’s a savant. She’s such a performer, but so gifted as a writer. She told me upfront: “Don’t try to be anyone other than yourself,” because she was really gravitating toward the emotion in the music. She didn’t want me to try and be Max Martin or Jack Antonoff. I didn’t go obsess over “Shake It Off” or something. I had a lot of music that I’d been writing when she approached me, and I just sent a folder because she asked. Hours later, [she sent back] “Cardigan.” It was an unusual vein that we struck.

Was there any material of your own that you didn’t want to offer up just yet?

Definitely. It was more that there were some songs that are specifically one thing or another. The Big Red Machine stuff is quite far along — and actually, Taylor has been amazing [at giving feedback]. I’ve shared all of that stuff with her, and she has been really helpful.

Does that mean we will we hear her on a Big Red Machine track in some form?

[Laughs] I can’t really say, so I guess I’ll say neither yes nor no.

How does a massive pop star releasing what feels like an indie folk album allow other artists to feel less confined by genre?

Taylor has opened the door for artists to not feel pressure to have “the bop.” To make the record that she made, while running against what is programmed in radio at the highest levels of pop music — she has kind of made an anti-pop record. And to have it be one of the most, if not the most, successful commercial releases of the year, that throws the playbook out. I hope it gives other artists, especially lesser-known or more independent artists, a chance at the mainstream. Maybe radio will realize that music doesn’t have to sound as pushed as it has. Nobody was trying to design anything to be a hit. Obviously Taylor has the privilege of already having a very large and dedicated audience, but I do feel like it’s having a resonance beyond that.

Music is already moving in that direction with artists like Billie Eilish. Why did that approach appeal to Swift?

I think for people to hear what she’s capable of. That song “peace” — when she wrote that, it was just a harmonized bass and a pulse. She wrote this incredible love song to it that’s one vocal take. I definitely felt like I was exposed to a truly great artist in that moment, just to see her to carve into this sketch in a substantive way. Billie Eilish is a great point: There are people who are pushing the boundaries of what is and isn’t popular or mainstream music. To have been part of it and see it actually happen, I almost felt like, “Is it really going to come out? Is somebody going to come tell us that we’re ridiculous?”

Was there any anxiety over fan and media reactions eclipsing the work itself?

I had moments of self doubt, for sure, but I think that’s part of Taylor’s brilliance and kind-heartedness is to make me and others around her feel confident. She repeatedly would say, “There’s no hierarchy. This is as special and great as anything I’ve done before, if not greater, so don’t worry.” She has dealt with so much spotlight in her life, too much probably, so she knows better than anyone the kind of whims of the zeitgeist, so she was leading in that sense. We were on the phone when it came out, and it was a really special experience… We were just on the phone as people around the world were listening and reviews were coming in and the truth is, it went so well, that I have never thought about it again. It could have been the opposite.

In 2016, you and your brother Bryce, Justin Vernon and others launched a week-long Berlin residency called People that evolved into an online community for artists to self-publish work in real time. What’s the status of that platform now?

At some point People magazine told us that they own the word people in any media context, so we changed it to 37d03d, which is people upside down spelled with numbers and letters. We decided to start a proper record label in partnership with Secretly Group, and we put out as much music as we possibly can with the idea that — and this is very much a part of folklore — eventually there’s a large community of people feeding into the music and making it as great as it can be. [We’re] trying to create a label that really embraces that, and where decisions aren’t commercially driven. If somebody comes to us with this crazy noise record, we’re as interested in that as hit songs on some other record.

You and Swift made folklore without ever being in the same room. How do you see the pandemic changing the music industry?

I do think the way that we’ve had to embrace collaborating remotely and being open to it is a powerful thing. Everything is on pause, and everyone is listening in a different way. I’d like to believe that this is a chance for some shifts to happen.

[ducktracy]

177. dog daze (1937)

release date: september 18th, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: friz freleng

starring: mel blanc (police dog, spitz, russian wolf hounds), billy bletcher (st. bernard), berneice hansell (puppy)

around this time, friz freleng left warner bros. to reconnect with his former co-workers and friends, hugh harman and rudolf ising, over at MGM. he’d serve a relatively short stint as director there, coming back to WB as soon as april 1939. the backlog of friz cartoons would trickle out until early 1938, where he would then be replaced by ben hardaway and cal dalton. friz has seniority at the studio, going as far back as animating for the 1929 pilot bosko, the talk-ink kid. while this isn’t his last cartoon, it remains an intriguing talking point! he’d make his biggest splash upon his return, directing a number of great black and white porky cartoons and making other little-known characters such as yosemite sam and sylvester, to name a select few. let’s not get too ahead of ourselves, now: here, we’re treated to a number of spot-gags involving dogs—including a drunken st. bernard.

patrons stream into a theater advertising the local dog show. it’s not a ‘30′s cartoon without a celebrity caricature of some sort--a lumbering caricature of humorist/author irvin s. cobb moseys along down the street with his identical looking bulldog. he’s followed by william powell and his pooch asta, both featured relatively prominently in speaking of the weather just 2 shorts ago. and, furthering the connection to the aforementioned cartoon, we get another gag implying that the dog took a leak on a nearby pole: powell marches past a spare pole, when suddenly his leash is yanked from behind, leaving the audience to read between the lines.

another gag that is more reminiscent of the early days of animation: your stereotypical “fat lady” gag, underscored by a rather sardonic rendition of “oh, you beautiful doll”. the woman, in an attempt to fit into the seats, ends up shoving the entire row out of the way. not much to add here: fatphobia funny, right? (eyeroll)

cue the dog puns as we get a look at the line-up for the dog show. a bird dog (as in, dogs who hunt birds) is taken to its literal meaning, perched in a cage and whistling like a bird. the next pen over is an irish setter (sitter, get it?) perched on top of a nest. mama crawls out of the nest to reveal a line of eggs. one by one, they all hatch to reveal a trio of energetic, yappy puppies. points for surrealism. 

next up, a disembodied voice cries “RAIN BLOW THROUGH THE MOUNTAIN!”, curtains withdrawing to reveal a police dog donning a mountie uniform, howling (its howls, of course, provided by mel blanc). this is a reference to the ever popular renfrew of the mounted, a ‘30′s book and radio series about a singing mountie--frank tashlin’s porky in the north woods even served as an ode to it. after that features a spitz hound, chewing on a glob of tobacco and lobbing it at a spitoon. amusing at first, this gag quickly wears its welcome as its featured in a number of other cartoons. spitting gags themselves were more along the lines of the earlier ‘30′s cartoons, right at home in the cruder days of the early harman and ising films.

 a st. bernard booze hound is next to be revealed, drunkenly singing a wordless rendition of “how dry i am”. billy bletcher’s deep bellow is a perfect match for such a big dog: the dog, rather pluto-esque as we’ll come to recognize, will return throughout the picture. the animation of it is rather nice--the physics on the floppy jowls are great. after a fit of hiccups, the dog giggles bashfully.

so, to counteract that high of the dog, our next pooch?

oh, sweet hilarity!

time to make room for more puns, this time plastered on the curtain. the curtain advertises groaners such as “come see our itchings -- canine art galleries”, “are you in the dog house? get a new leash on life supply co.”, and so forth. the spotlight takes its sweet time to roam around each pun, allowing it to really sink in. complete with close-ups! i’m watching the newly restored version on hbomax (which looks gorgeous, by the way), and so i don’t know if it’s the fault of the restoration or if the original print had this issue, but the close-ups are a bit blurry, as if they were having some problems with the double-exposure effects. 

with eye-rolling puns out of the way (and i say this as a shameless pun lover), the audience is treated to a variety of k-9 vaudeville acts, starting with a pair of scottie dogs, who perform the highland fling. personally, i like the camel’s version better in porky in egypt. the spacing of the animation isn’t well distributed here--the movement feels too mechanical. 

the scotties are replaced by a pair of russian wolf hounds, who look like sticks when viewed from the front--a common place gag. animation of the hounds doing the hopak fares better than the scotties, and the barks at the end of the musical phrases are at least passably amusing. as the performance wraps up, the ushankas worn by the hounds turn out to be little black dogs curled up in a ball--once more, a tried and true gag that calls back to the days of the harman and ising era. 

just when we think we’ve had enough groaners: the next act, titled “dog eat dog” features a... wait for it! a dog eating a hotdog. at least the ironic commentary by the sarcastic, pitchy, violin rendition of “where oh where has my little dog gone” alerts us to some self-awareness regarding how lame the gag is. thankfully, the next gag at least got a polite chuckle out of me: the act titled “little man you’ve had a busy day” (in reference to the popular song of the same name) showcases a dog panting and flashing a guilty smile, a line of poles in the backgrounds. two piss jokes in one short! that must be a record! 

what could be considered the song portion of the short follows next, a group of prarie dogs singing “my little buckaroo” with alternate, dog-inclusive lyrics (mentioning pedigrees and the like). the drunken st. bernard from before cringes at the act, howling and carrying on. a hand off-screen shoves a muzzle on him to shut him up (don’t tell PETA!), prompting the dog to force it free. 

instead, the dog accidentally ricochets himself into an open trunk (labeled johnson skating act, a reference to background artist johnny johnson, most commonly associated with tex avery). and, as to be expected, the dog emerges from the trunk slipping and sliding on a pair of roller skates. the animation of the dog on the roller skates is certainly the high point of the short--even the dog’s emergence just slides like butter. definitely worthy of a frame-by-frame watch. 

the prarie dogs finish up the remainder of their song (once more bitten by the double-exposure bug, still wondering if that’s the restoration or the original print?), just in time to allow a shanghaied skating pup to slide across the stage. more great animation of the dog struggling on his skates as he slides into the other wing, his struggle animated on ones (you’ll also note the sign in the background advertising a gross of anvils). he eventually topples over, the barrel on his chest keeping him going until he crashes into a wall. the few smear frames leads me to believe that this is ken harris at work, though i’m far from confident on that claim.

even more great animation as the dog, pluto-esque in his struggle and frustration, struggles to get back onto his feet, his drunken hiccups sending him falling each time. i love when he resorts to grabbing his ass by his teeth to lift himself up, giving a self-satisfied grin at the camera before falling right back down again. frustrated, the dog grovels in his humility, a welcome burst of comedic timing as he shoves the lower half of his body down in frustration, free to mope and ponder in peace. 

next up serves as a rather deliberate callback to one of friz’s most monumental pictures (in notoriety, not quite in quality)--his 1935 entry i haven’t got a hat, that most famously marks the debut of everyone’s (okay, MY) favorite porcine. a shy little puppy timidly pokes her head out from a cardboard standee, clearly in no rush to get out on stage. ken harris’ animation of her resisting the push of the disembodied arm is full of character: her facial expression creased with worry is relatively scribner-esque, another bonus. 

finally, she’s thrown out on stage... facing the wrong way. a whistle summons her to turn around, where she recites “mary had a little lamb”, her squeaky vocals provided by none other than berneice hansell. she starts off... and, in an avery-esque break of character, growls to stage left “awww... this is SILLY!” a book is thrown at her in response. 

in the midst of the puppy’s recital (which is cleverly underscored by “puppchen”), the drunken dog from before still engages in his battle to get up. once more, the animation is more than a treat to look at: the dog, fueled with fury, scrambles to his feet with a running start. the animation glides as effortlessly as the dog, but something off-screen catches his attention: a trunk containing a flea circus.

as you can surely guess, dog crashes, and the fleas miraculously fly (suspension of disbelief!) out of the trunk, ready to cause trouble. in another ode to i haven’t got a hat, where porky was the one mixing up two poems in a recital, the reciting puppy mixes up her nursery rhymes (”mary had a little lamb, the mouse ran up the clock. and anywhere the lamb would go, hickory dickory dock!”) while watching a flea buzz dangerously close to her vicinity, eyes rotating 360 degrees and all.

inevitably, the flea strikes, and the puppy gives a strained remainder of her recital, itching all the way. the main ode to i haven’t got a hat stems here--the puppy’s voice grows exceedingly higher in pitch, the animation of her pacing from side-to-side and eventually off stage directly reused fom the short. it should be noted that, in the original scene, another hansell-voiced animal (little kitty) was giving the same recital of mary had a little lamb. this scene has the benefit of better animation and a little bit more humor, but it’s an interesting callback to such an important cartoon.

fade out and back in to the remainder of the fleas, who are having a hell of a time sopping up the spilled alcohol from the st. bernard’s barrel. one flea fishes in the liquor, another swimming, one more even licking it up straight from the source. the short comes to an end on a quartet of drunken fleas, singing a shrill, obnoxious, hiccup-ridden rendition of “how dry i am”. iris out.

i will admit that, as i reviewed this, the cartoon slowly warmed up to me. i wasn’t at all charmed by the first half: the puns are rather lame, the timing is bloated and slow, and it lacks direction, even for a spot-gag cartoon. it feels overwhelmingly half-hearted: when a director or its crew lacks enthusiasm, that absence is certainly felt. yet, the second half of the short definitely thawed my otherwise cold review. the animation of the st. bernard on roller skates is some absolutely gorgeous stuff. it’s very smooth, very funny, and very tactile. moreover, the puppy’s recital of “mary had a little lamb” was very fun and amusing--berneice hansell never fails to win me over with her vocals. with that said, however, i wouldn’t really recommend this cartoon: there are too many other good friz cartoons to check out. it lacks enthusiasm and conviction, and feels more like a relic of the past, from the prevalence of billy bletcher and berneice hansell (who dominated the pre-blanc cartoons) to the harman and ising-esque gags to the deliberate callbacks to i haven’t got a hat. mainly, i would persuade you to check out the second half for the animation of the roller-skating dog, and maybe add the recital sequence as an extra incentive. but, for now, this is a largely unremarkable cartoon that you can skip without feeling too slighted.

yet, with that said: the short is available on hbomax if you have it, where i got the screenshots from! if not, you can check out a lower-quality version here. better than nothing!