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missizzy · 8 months ago

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Narrative Interlude: History (Gale/Tav)

(Takes place in the universe of my first playthrough, where we just fought Sarevok, making me think much about the implications for a Tav old enough to have actually lived through the events of the first two games.)

It had been a much quieter evening than the previous one, the excitement of Minsc's joining of them quickly faded in the face of the day's events, and even more so by what awaited them tomorrow. Sara had already advised Gale he'd probably be staying in the tavern, and also that Astarion would be coming to their couch to feed that night, which obviously did not make him happy, much as he respected her judgement. But even outside of that, he was anxious about her for more than one reason.

Yet he could not help but smile, just a little bit, when he walked over to the corner where she was sitting, and found her reading. She'd done far too little of that in her life. It still horrified him to think she hadn't even known how to read or write during her first century. Her tribe hadn't even had a written script, passing their history and culture down entirely orally. As late as when they'd started on this strange adventure of theirs, she hadn't exactly been the strongest reader, although she'd been fairly good at writing, if only so she and her brothers could keep in touch, she'd said. He was pleased to say he'd helped her get better, and develop a newfound appreciation for books while she was at it.

Her preferred readings weren't his, of course. Most of his books on the Weave she likely never would really be able to understand. But she was enjoying reading and learning more than she'd known about historical events, and some of the people they'd met, or she'd met, and she also showed a marked interest in reading about Waterdeep. Gale wished he had his collection on hand.

He recognized the book she was reading. They'd found the a copy of The Annals of Baldur's Gate in the old Selunite temple, and he believed it had mostly been Lae'zel reading it, especially once they'd been certain they were going to the city. "Keeping it warm for her?" he tried to offer.

"Trying to get my own history straightened out." Her voice was grim. "This is probably a simplified version, maybe even one that's too nice to certain powerful people. But hopefully it's closer to the truth than all the conflicting wild tales of exactly what happened I heard at the time."

It was easy enough to guess exactly what she was talking about. "The Iron Crisis?"

There had been a malice in that fight with Sarevok Anchev Gale hadn't quite seen before, and on both sides. Sara, of course, had often been at the forefront of their fights, taking the blows she could handle better than most of them. But it had still terrified him how exclusively that powerful being had focused his attacks entirely on her, seemingly unable to forgive the lie she'd tried to tell on behalf of all of them, really. And she herself had actually looked relieved when the lie hadn't taken. And there had been a new edge to her rage, a new viciousness in her swings, and a fear he'd never quite seen before either in her eyes.

There had also been the way she'd picked his sword up, afterwards, a weapon too powerful for them to not claim, but Sara clearly hadn't wanted to touch it. When Karlach had said she'd take it, she'd looked very grateful. Sarevok Anchev had probably been a boogeyman in the tales her parents had told her, but no more than that.

"I was 145 when he tried to seize power." Sara spoke with a detachment that was shocking coming from her, as if the emotions attached to the memory were too much even for her. "Adelie and I had just settled into our new home with a pair of dogs who were almost as big as she was. Do you, up until now, I was never entirely sure it was true he got so dramatically exposed actually at the coronation, but this book says it is, so I suppose it probably is.

But when that story reached us, it was in the form of Shanda showing up, screaming that he was about to release a whole army of winged demons on the entire city. And then another one of the neighbors said no, they were going to come up from the sewers. Or he was going to rise some underground temple up from below the ground-well, we know that temple exists now, don't we?-and choke us all with shadows...everyone was saying something different. But all of it was bad, and when we'd already been living in fear with everything that had happened already.

I can still remembering Adelie huddling in the corner with the dogs, crying with terror. I remember Granite anxiously nuzzling her, and Lime started to howl. Shanda was pacing back and forth, taking hold of her daggers and then putting them back down. And I remember sitting there, sharpening my axe-and it had been years, by then, since I'd used it on anything other than game and lumber. I remember wondering if Adelie and the dogs would run if we told them to. Granite probably wouldn't have. If it would do a damn thing to help even if they did. Shanda also gave us the news that Kathryne and her husband, with the baby only five months old, were actually trying to flee the city. We didn't know if they were alive or dead until nearly two days after it was over."

The rage had slowly crept into her voice as she'd spoken, and she pulled away from the book, going over to the nearest window. Gale could see she was shaking. He joined her there, as together they watched a human and a halfling play lanceboard outside. "I was one of them, that time," she said. "I'm so angry at the people that are supporting Gortash, who are turning a blind eye even to what is happening outright on the street-and now he and his precious Steel Watch failed to even protect those people in the park. But Adelie and I, and our friends, we were fooled right along with everyone else."

She was no doubt still feeling all four of those deaths in the park they'd failed to prevent. Of course, she wanted to rescue Lae'zel above everything, and she was probably telling the truth about her fear that Orin would lose her patience and kill her if they didn't go now. But seeing her fellow Baldurians cut down like that by Bhaal's cultists had no doubt settled that choice for her completely.

"Although those of them my age, you'd think they'd know better this time. When I stood in front of Enver Gortash, I saw the last supposed strongman who'd done what he's doing. Do not enough people remember?"

"Maybe they'd rather forgot," said Gale. "I know it must have been hard today, being forced to confront those memories."

"Do you?" Sara asked, and she sounded a little skeptical.

Gale couldn't help but be a little angry at that. "Yes," he said sharply, "I do. It's only been two days since I had that exact feeling myself, when I stood in front of Mystra."

"Oh, yes, oh, no, I'm sorry," Sara stammered, and his anger instantly vanished. "I didn't realize...should I have not insisted you..."

"No, it's not..." Gale tried to reassure her. "When a goddess wants a word with you, I don't think you can really avoid her. And it's for the better I did see her. Everything's felt much more clear in my head since."

"I'm glad for that, then," said Sara, as she accepted his arm around her and tilted her head down to lie against his. "I'm afraid that's another thing you know well which I'll never fully comprehend. I don't ever want to be close to any god like that."

That was the thing about her that Gale was only starting to comprehend, that she actually wanted to be only a mortal, and she only wanted him because he was mortal, too. He might have feared she wanted him because he was weak, but he was also starting to understand that what he had be taught to view as his weaknesses, she did not see as weaknesses at all. If he could see himself the way she saw him, Gale supposed, he'd be a much happier man.

The Annals of Karsus still sat among his things. There was a part of him its siren's song still called to, that might always still want the power and the greatness that only godhood could bring him. But he had so much before him that was worth having in its stead, if he could live to have it. Sara and her love, of course, but not even just that. He found as the days went on, he wanted there to be days spent in the company of his mother once again, as well. Seeing Tara again had reinforced how badly he'd missed her, too. Even just being in his tower again, standing on the terrace and watching the sunset once more, a pleasure probably only a mortal could enjoy properly, was something to deeply look forward to.

Though he did find himself saying, "It's all right. I suppose there are a few things you understand that I probably won't ever, either."

Back when their relationship had begun, Gale hadn't thought much about her being two and a half centuries older than him, or, for that matter, that she might outlive him by an equal amount of time. After all, his previous lover had been an immortal goddess. But another thing he was coming to understand was the great difference between a god who merely existed through the centuries, and a mortal who lived them.

She'd lived in both the wilds and the city, embraced two very different styles of life. She'd fought against enemies, and, during the most painful era of her youth, also against former friends. She'd spent years wandering strange lands with nowhere to called home. She'd had friends and family and lovers, so many of them, loved them all, lost more of them than not. He was aware that everyone else in the story she'd just told him was now dead, almost all of them of old age; Shanda had apparently died the previous year, and he got the impression she'd been pretty lonely between that and the nautiloid ship.

He wondered how she stood it, with her passionate, all too loving heart. He was starting to look at Elminster very differently; a lot of things about him now made a lot more sense. And yet, after she'd buried a wife she'd been with for over a century, so she knew how much this would hurt her, he wasn't even worried she wouldn't be willing to do it all again, with him.

He'd never even been in love before her. That was another thing he knew only now. Oh, he'd loved Mystra, and very much so, enough that his feelings about her were still complicated, and probably always would be. But he now saw that her eyes were cold, and so were her words to him, and while he supposed she might still have a heart, it wasn't one she would have ever shown to her mortal playthings. She'd given him nothing to be in love with.

Gale had thought himself so sophisticated, so knowing of everything there was to know, when he'd committed his folly. That belief hadn't even really changed during the year afterwards. But now events had forced him out into the world, experiencing parts of it so many wizards hid from in their towers, and learned just how little he'd known about it, or about life.

"You know," he said, as stood there, giving him time to think about it further, "I'm starting to the books don't tell enough. We could probably find an account that told us exactly what happened at that coronation and exactly how the resulting battle went, and in much more detail than the popular Annals would bother with. But the bards don't usually remember the tales of the ordinary citizens like that. Maybe you should write yours down. I could even help you with it."

"I think...I'd be glad to do that," Sara said. "Or maybe you should help all of us with that. We've all of us got so much to tell, if we live to."

She looked back at the others, and he looked with her. Karlach was already asleep, Wyll sitting beside her on their couch and occasionally looking at Sarevok's sword, lain beside the one he was currently wielding. He, too, might have merely grown up hearing about the man, but Gale suspected he wouldn't ever want to touch it either. Jaheira was also sitting on her couch, but he was pretty sure she was tranced. Near her, Minsc was talking quietly to his pet; Gale could only imagine how overwhelming these past two days had been for him. There was another reading lesson going on, with Shadowheart trying to teach Yenna. Halsin had actually taken cat form, and was running around with Grub, Scratch looking at them confusedly. Mizora, thankfully, wasn't bothering anyone at the moment.

Astarion was looking over at them, with that damned smirk. Gale tried to give him a meaningful look. At least he'd be aware, now, that he was going to have to wait a bit; it was only polite that they let him know that.

"Let's hope we have time for that, then," he said, and pressed the first kiss to her ear, the second to the side of her face. She turned to meet his mouth with hers, and the kiss quickly turned deep and hard, her grip tight on his arm. Just from that, he could tell she was going to be needy that night. Which suited him just fine, especially since nights when he knew Astarion was coming had started turning him possessive.

"And now," he whispered to the space between their lips, "let us leave all that off until the morning," and she eagerly nodded, letting him take her hand to lead her to the other room.

#baldur's gate 3 #barbarian tav #gale x tav

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imaginesbymonika · 5 years ago

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“Until they discover what a mess I truly am.”

Pairing: Pete Davidson x reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of depression, fluff at the end

As a writer for SNL Y/N knew a bunch of famous people, she worked with almost everyone since she had started in 2013. The young woman began writing at the age of 17, being the youngest female writer in Saturday Night Live history. On the one hand, it was super fun, the thrill of working among people such as Seth Meyers or Lorne Michaels filled her with pride. At the same time, it was intimidating and occasionally mentally exhausting. It felt like she frequently had to prove herself to everyone, prove that she was worthy of being a writer for SNL at such a young age. She constantly had to work twice as hard.

The first person that looked at Y/N as an equal writer was John Mulaney. John treated her like an adult and whenever she happened to be in the writers' room with him, he always wanted to hear her ideas and opinions on scripts and previous shows.

He explained that he saw a piece of himself in her, and he knew exactly how tough the first year could be without having at least one friend.

To this day still, Y/N was incredibly grateful for him.

Over the years she had met a lot of writers, some of them grabbing her attention more than others. But at the end of the day, none of them seemed to be 'dateable'. John always wanted to set her up with one of his friends, but she always declined saying he was her friend, not her dating service. Until Y/N met Pete Davidson.

„Sorry, I’m late.“, he announced after entering the writers' room. He sat down on the opposite side of Y/N and flashed her a quick smile, before leaning back in his chair.

„I saw how you stared at Pete this morning.“, John later said as the two left the SNL building. She simply rolled her eyes and turned her head away from her friend, humiliated that her cheeks were burning up.

The very first-time Y/N realized she had developed quite the crush on Pete was after his proposal announcement.

He held up Ariana’s hand, while a huge smile played on his lips: “WE‘RE GETTING MARRIED!“. She could see the little tattoo behind his ear and sighed.

She could feel her heart breaking, but when his eyes met hers, Y/N smiled softly and nodded her head at him. Forming the word „Congrats“ with her lips.

From that moment on, she tried her best to get over him. Dating guys and having one night stands- Y/N did everything to keep Pete of her mind. She hardly saw him, during the time of his engagement, which was a miracle. But after the engagement was canceled, he was around more often. They sometimes made eye contact in the writers' room or at an after-show party. But Y/N kept her distance, knowing that once they would start talking again- her old feelings would resurface.

„Pete asked about you again.“, John explains while handing her a cup of coffee. „Thank you.“. Making her snap out of her thoughts: “Are you alright?“.

She simply nods: “Yeah, I’m fine.“.

„Did you hear what I said? Pete-.“.

„Yeah, I heard you.“, Y/N interrupts him, a bit more cold than she intended. She takes a sip before looking at her old friend apologetic: “John, you know how I feel about Pete- I don’t want to get my hopes up. He’s out there dating these supermodels, I just don’t-“, she pauses for a second: “I just don’t fit into that picture.“.

John, confused and a bit overwhelmed by her words swallows thickly: “Okay, wow. I never expected you to think that little of yourself-.“.

„Pete’s too good for me. Hell, he’s too good for anyone, really.“, she explains: “Let’s not talk about him. Please.”.

„That’s exactly what he said about her.“, Anna, John's wife, exclaims after Y/N left their apartment: “We need to do something about this mess.“.

„I don’t know.“, Pete says, holding a cigarette in his hand: “I mean, it’s not like I don’t find Y/N attractive... she’s really pretty, but I feel like she deserves more- better than this.“. He makes a hand gesture, pointing at himself.

„But Pete-.“.

„Look, I appreciate your concerns but - it’s always the same. I like a girl, we date then she gets to know the real me- like the real me. You know how fucked up I am. She breaks up with me.“, Pete explains: “And I don’t know, I can get it when they’re famous- like Ariana or Kaia...but a normal girl like Y/N? That would probably break my heart.“.

Anna and John exchange a look.

Y/N who walks into her office turns on the lights. One hour earlier she received a weird text message from John saying:

Sorry to text you this late, there’s some trouble at the office considering the sketch for tomorrow. Would be great if you could go there, rehearse it and look it over. Anna and I have our date night, so it would be you with another writer. Thanks. Love you.

„Hello-?“, a voice asks and Y/N lets out a high-pitched scream. She quickly turns around and sees Pete Davidson standing in the door frame.

„Oh my god, Pete.“, she says and runs a hand down her face. She can hear how he chuckles slightly. “You scared the living shit out of me. Don’t ever do that again!“.

„What? Say hello?“, he smiles and Y/N just rolls her eyes in response.

„I guess, it’s just you and me.“, Y/N points out and hopes that John was mentally preparing himself for what’s going to happen the next time they see each other again: “John said there’s some sort of Sketch, waiting here...but I can’t find one.“

„John texted you too?“, Y/N asks and her eyes widen: “Maybe he made a mistake?“.

„Nah, I don’t think so.“.

An awkward silence falls upon the two and after a few seconds Y/N walks over to her computer: “Maybe he sent me the script via E-Mail, let me check.“. Meanwhile, Pete sits down on the little couch and watches her.

„You should get a bigger couch.“, he exclaims and when Y/N looks up from the screen, he smiles at her. It makes her cheek blush and she quickly hides her face beneath the computer.

„Now... how’s life treating you?“, Pete asks and lays down, he stares at the ceiling.

Y/N sighs: “It’s okay, I guess. What about you? I heard you’re currently dating this actress. Kate. How’s that working out?”.

„No.“, he replies: “I’m not, we- well, she broke up with me a month later. I feel like they all think I’m a great guy until they date me and discover what a mess I truly am. Or maybe it’s the fact that Ariana said my dick is huge so- they want to check that out themselves. I don’t know.”.

The young woman stops typing and looks at Pete again, she leans back in her chair: “I hope you know, that’s not true.”.

“How do you know? I never showed you my dick. Or did I? If I-.”.

“Pete, you’re not a mess, you just have some mental health issues. If these women can’t 'handle' you that’s not your problem but theirs. You are a great guy and every girl would be lucky to have you by their side... I can’t seem to find an email, I’ll call John.“.She gets up from her chair and leaves the room: “I’ll get myself a cup of coffee afterward, you want some?.“.

Pete, speechless by her words slowly sits up straight on the couch. He never expected someone to say something so kind about him. He gets up and leaves the room. At the end of the hallway stands Y/N, slightly slapping the coffee machine.

„I can’t reach John, and this stupid machine isn’t working-.“, she says, frustration audible in her voice.

„Did you mean what you just said?“,he asks and Y/N looks up.

She stares at him for a few seconds: “Yeah, why-?“.

„This might sound ridiculous.”, he starts, crosses his arms, and leans against the wall:” But... did John talked to you about asking me out for a date?”.

As soon as the words leave his mouth the color on Y/N’s face disappears. She can feel how her mouth runs dry and her hands start to sweat.

“Because he talked to me about asking you out. And-.”.

“What did you say to him?”.

He wrinkles his forehead:” Of course, I said no.”.

“Oh.”.

Y/N can feel it. She can feel how her heart is breaking in ways she didn’t know were possible. If dying of a broken heart was a real thing, maybe now it would happen to her.

“Of course.”, she repeats his words and scratches her eyebrow.

“Yeah, I mean- you wouldn’t date me either. That’s probably what you told John.”, Pete chuckles but stops when he sees Y/N’s facial expression. His eyes widen:” Shit, no.”, he says, almost like a whisper.

Y/N rushes past him into her office before the tears are falling. She didn’t care. Not now.

“Y/N- I...”, he starts but the girl shakes her head.

“Go Home, Pete. I’ll call John and tell him I didn’t find the script.”.

“I just assumed we were on the same page.”, he says, ignoring what she just said:” Like, look at you and look at me- I’m too much of a jerk for someone like you!”.

“Excuse me?“, she replies, her voice growing louder with every second passing: “Since when do you decide what’s best for me?“.

„I don’t want you to get hurt, I’m difficult. Fuck, Y/N, you know that. We’ve been working together for such a long time now. If we would get together, I don’t know if I could survive you thinking the same way these girls think about me now.“.

Y/N sighs and crosses her arms in front of her chest, as if she was trying to protect the last bit of her heart: “You’re right, we shouldn’t get together.“.

„W-what?“.

„Pete.“, she slowly takes his hand, her voice breaking: “You need to work on your mental health, you can’t just jump from one relationship into the next. That’s unhealthy. But... I will help you. I will be there for you until you’re truly ready to date again.“.

A soft smile spreads on his lips: “That sounds good.“, he leans down: “One kiss, though?“.

„Sure.“, she replies:” You can get more than one..”.And when their lips meet, it feels better than she could have ever imagined.

#pete davidson #pete x reader #john mulaney #pete davidson imagine #pete davidson x reader #snl #snl imagine #imagine #x reader #pete x y/n #davidson #pete #john #mulaney #fluff #angst

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salandition · 5 years ago

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10 and 126 with Raihan please 💖

A/N: i love writing these because I’ll look at the prompt list and then my eyes will bug out when I see what y’all chose. It’s very fun. ESPECIALLY for this one- my eyes got all big and I went “YEHHH” out loud. So that’s great lmao

Prompt(s): “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”/ "I think about you all the time, it’s freaking annoying."

---

You’ve known the Dragon-Type Gym Leader, Raihan, for a long time. He’s got quite a few different names, actually, which was pretty interesting. The Tamer of Dragons, The Dragon Lord (that one always made you snort), or even The Great Raihan. In a way, he kind of fits those names, but you just like to stick to ‘Raihan’, ‘Rai’, or ‘Daddy Long Legs’.

He hates it when you call him that last one, so you make sure to use it often.

You can easily call Raihan one of your best friends. Though time has a history of bad effects on some relationships, you don’t think that’s the case for you and Raihan; the more time you spent together, the more your friendship solidified and became reliable and comfortable. You didn’t ever get bored or tired of Raihan, and despite your first initial anxieties that he’d get that way towards you, he didn’t. So the two of you are best friends, though and through.

And that’s exactly where your problem lies.

Raihan is your best friend, so- you can say confidently that you know him pretty well. And you know that Raihan isn’t the most enthusiastic about relationships- deeper, romantic ones. He likes to indulge himself every so often, but whenever you talked about crushes or something like that with each other, he always seemed distant and reluctant about entering a serious relationship with another person. The only reason this created a sense of unease in your stomach is because- well- lately… You’ve found yourself liking him a bit more than you used to.

You’re not sure when it happened. You just realized one day that maybe you stare at him for just a bit too long, maybe you’re just a bit too excited whenever the two of you are able to hang out, maybe you stay up with him a little too late on the phone when he calls.

Realizing that perhaps you have a crush on Raihan- it created a fit of anxiety within you. Because falling in love with someone you’re so close with- when did that really ever turn out well? Sometimes it worked, if you were lucky, but you don’t really think the word ‘lucky’ describes you very well. And then there’s the fact that you’re keenly aware that Raihan is definitely not interested in you like that.

Even if he was, you know he doesn’t like deep relationships- and you’re not sure how comfortable you are with being a fling or thrusted into a ‘benefits’ type situation.

So, once you realize your feelings, you do your best to squash them before they have the opportunity to get even worse. You drill the fact that Raihan doesn’t like you and you can’t like Raihan deep into your skull; you remind yourself over and over that you aren’t in love with him and you’re just friends.

And that’s fine. You’re happy to be his friend. That will always be the truth, regardless of the little hiccups along the way.

Usually, though, hiccups don’t last this long, and they don’t hurt this badly. That’s something you’ve come to realize as time has passed.

Because, hiccups- they’re temporary things. Unexpected bumps in your throat- and sure, sometimes they can hurt and leave a funky ache in your chest- but hiccups are supposed to go away after a quick glass of water or something like that.

And this particular hiccup isn’t going away. So it’s probably time to stop calling it that.

You’re not sure what to call it. Torture? That’s a bit too brutal. What about ‘agonizing, lovely, awful torture’? Still a bit dramatic.

It’s a problem is what it is. You know what? It’s almost like a virus, actually. Because it started out as just a tiny problem- a little crush, and then it slowly spread throughout your body and created lots of other problems in it’s wake. Problems that are getting worse as time goes on.

Things like how your body will tingle and ache when Raihan hugs you, how your face will burn when he compliments and teases you, how you don’t even know how to look at him correctly anymore without giving away that you’re slowly falling in love with him. Which wasn’t supposed to happen in the first place. You weren’t supposed to fall in love with The Great Raihan, The Tamer of Dragons, The Dragon Lord.

You were supposed to just be friends. So what happened to that?

---

You know Raihan is starting to suspect something is wrong with you. He has a way of accidentally clueing people in that he’s thinking about something or that he’s curious. It’s the little way he lifts his left eyebrow, his lip quirking up with it, and his head will tilt just a tiny bit. It’s a subtle tell.

You kind of hate that you’ve stared at him long enough that you can recognize such meager things. But it helps you, regardless, because it lets you know when you’re being a bit too obvious and you should leave before he starts to ask you questions.

Except you can’t really leave without giving him more questions right now; because you’re hanging out at his house, planning to spend the night as you drink together and watch movies, and if you left now, that wouldn’t be any good. He’d certainly grill you about it tomorrow, and you’re not sure if you’d be able to come up with a good enough lie as to why you ditched him.

“So,” you clear your throat, trying to look away from his gaze on you as you lean on his kitchen counter, beer bottle in hand as it leaks wet condensation on your hand. “Tell me more about your challengers this year. Anyone catch your eye?”

Raihan hums, lifting his own bottle to his lips and you definitely don’t watch as his throat moves when he takes a drink. “No one in particular yet,” He tells you. “I did hear one of the challengers really gave Melony a run for her money, though, which is pretty interesting. She’s a tough lady- I look forward to seeing who can battle so well against Ice Types, considering they’re one of my team’s weaknesses and all that.”

You nod along as he speaks, and you try not to look bothered when he crosses the counter and leans on it, same as you- right in front of you, actually. Which would only make sense, considering you’re talking to each other- you want to look directly at the person you’re speaking to. But does he have to lean in so close?

“That’s a good point,” you take another drink to distract yourself from his piercing eyes. Maybe it’s not really a good idea to drink with him in the first place, considering he already makes your stomach do pathetic flustered flips, but it’d be odd if you rejected it now. “Besides the frivolous chit-chat, as much as I love talking about your work- I want to see the movie you picked out.”

“Of course,” Raihan grins, leaning off the counter and leading you into his living room. Not like you need to be led, considering you’re more than familiar with the layout of his apartment. “So, I know you hate horror,”

“Raihan,” you groan before he can even finish, and he laughs as he shows you the case of the movie.

“Okay, but we have to! It’s a classic, and it’s not that bad. It’s old, so the effects look shotty to begin with. You’ll be fine,” he assures you, but you doubt he’s being honest. He’s lied to you before to get you to watch horror films with him. You purse your lips, crossing your arms together, still holding your drink between your fingers at the rim.

“You just want to see me scared.”

Raihan turns from you, putting the disk in the player, and you huff. “Maybe,” he singsongs, “you can cuddle into me and hide if it’s too much, don’t worry!”

You fall against his couch and roll your eyes, trying not to let him see you blush as you lean against your hand. “In your dreams, long-legs.”

“I like that better,” Raihan hums and sits next to you, said legs already taking up a lot of space as he crosses them.

“Ah, sorry. Daddy long legs.”

“I guess I deserve it if I’m making you watch this,” he huffs, and you smile.

“Exactly.”

The movie starts, the two of you quieting your banter as the intro scene plays. But you’ve always been chatty during films, especially when it’s horror- talking helps ease your nerves as you groan loudly at the screen, and Raihan absolutely thrives off some of the comments you make, so it’s a good time overall. He also makes some jokes and crude comparisons to the things on screen that makes you laugh, so that’s nice, too.

Despite your nerves and your growing affections for the man sitting beside you, you try to remember these moments. He’s your friend- your best friend. Even if he doesn’t love you like that…

You sneak a look at him during a particularly slow moment in the movie. His eyes are focused on the screen, face lit up blue from the screen, and he laughs at one of the jokes that’s made in the script. You quickly chuckle, turning away from him so he doesn’t catch on that you weren’t paying attention- and your stomach does that funky flip again.

Even if he doesn’t love you like that, at least he loves you at all. You should be grateful for that. For what you have.

Before you even realize it, the movie is over, which is surprising. Usually you can’t wait for the ending, but you were zoning out in your thoughts so much that you didn’t even realize the credits were rolling until Raihan leaned forward, grabbing the remote and turning the TV off. It’s significantly darker in the living room without the light of the television, but you can still make out those blue eyes when he looks your way.

“So,” he relaxes back on the couch, one of his hands grabbing at his knee and the other rests in his lap. “You’ve been weird.”

You snort. “If you wanted to get my guard down for a talk about feelings, you should have chosen a better movie.”

“Would it have mattered?” He raises an eyebrow. “You hardly even reacted to most of it.”

You suppose you can’t argue with that.

Raihan shrugs, sighing a bit through his nose as he turns his head away from you. For that, you’re glad, because he just looks too intense when he looks you in the eye. “Figured I’d give you an opportunity, since you’re not bringing it up yourself. Don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

You frown. You’re still holding your beer bottle, now empty, and you place it on the floor before you lift your feet up on the couch and criss cross. “It’s not a very big deal, Rai,” you tell him softly. “Honest.”

“Doesn’t matter if it’s a big deal,” Raihan looks back at you, “we’re mates, right? Doesn’t have to be a big deal for you to tell me.”

There’s little room to argue with that. He’s right, and you know that, but this is different. Your shoulders drop as you purse your lips. “I don’t want to bother you with this,” you say, and Raihan just laughs through his nose.

“You once called me in the middle of the night because you felt something weird on your bum and you acted like it was the end of the world because you had bum-cancer.”

Without even thinking, you grab a pillow on the couch and you hurl it at him full strength. “That was a valid concern! And I told you that you’re not allowed to bring it up ever again!”

Raihan barks out a laugh, giggling like a child as he grabs the pillow you threw at him and he tosses it back. You smack it on the floor, making him laugh harder.

“My point is, we’ve been close, yeah?” He says once the giggles finally end, and he smiles at you so genuinely that you have to look away. He notices. “That’s it. You keep doing that. Why?”

“Doing what?” Acting dumb. Grade A plan, sure to work.

Though you can’t see it, you can hear how he rolls his eyes based on his tone. “You keep acting distant. Looking away from me like I’ll jump you or something.”

That’s funny. You actually want him to jump you, but, you know. In the cute, kissy way.

Why’d you think that? Shut up. You shake your head, as if that will shake away the thoughts as well. “It’s not that,” you tell him. There’s a dread building up in your chest once you do- because you know where this conversation is going.

Raihan is nice and respectful of your boundaries, and he’d never make you tell him something you’re not comfortable sharing. The issue is that he’s too nice, and it makes you want to tell him that much more. Because he deserves to know, right?

There’s really only a few ways that this conversation would go. You know- you know that the next thing he’ll say is going to be something like ‘then what is it?’

“Then what is it?” He asks, and you curse yourself. You knew it would be a bad idea to hang out.

You finally look at him again, biting your cheek as your eyebrows furrow. “Raihan,” you shake your head again. “I can’t.” Your voice is soft- a whisper, at best.

Truthfully, you didn’t notice how your hands began to tremble in your lap- but Raihan did. His lips tug into a frown.

“Why?”

You huff, and he shrugs.

Maybe you should rip off the bandaid and get it over with. If Raihan has figured out that something’s been bothering you, and if you leave the conversation tonight without telling him what it is, you know he’s going to pry it out of you eventually. It’s only a matter of time, now.

“You really wanna know, Raihan?” You hold your hands in your lap, trying to get them to stop shaking, and Raihan nods. All right, you think with a deep breath, this is it. Time to tell him and have the awkwardest rejection of your life.

You don’t have the guts to look at him, so you look up at the dark ceiling, and honestly, your eyes are already burning. And you’re definitely not going to cry. Despite that, you sniff, and your voice leaves you shakily, “I think I’m in love with you, and that terrifies me.”

It’s quiet, and a rush of anxiety courses through you again. You stutter and stumble as you try to explain yourself. “I- We’ve been friends for so long. And- and I’m not- not interested in ruining that. I don’t want to ruin our relationship. Because- well, because I love you,” you laugh, “and I- I don’t want to ruin it by getting all weird and reading into things. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, either.”

Finally, you lower your head and let it hang as you sniff again and lift a hand to run through your hair, ruffling through it harshly. Come on, you think, get it together.

It takes a lot of courage to look at him- and you honestly don’t have the courage, so you basically just turn your face his way and then stare at the couch cushions instead. “...Sorry,” you apologize weakly, though you’re not sure why.

From your peripherals, you see him uncross his legs, his body leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He sighs, which doesn’t really make you feel good as you quickly look to the floor instead, even further away from his eyes. “You don’t need to be sorry about that. Not like you can control your feelings,” Raihan finally speaks. “That would just be silly.”

You shrug.

“I guess I can understand why you didn’t want to tell me,” He continues, his hands coming together and rubbing before he entwines his fingers, cracking his knuckles with a swift movement. “Would you like to hear something funny?”

Your eyebrows furrow, suspicious. “...Sure.”

“Well, it’s funny for you, maybe, but it’s been annoying for me,” Raihan chuckles. “It really is. Cause the thing is, I think about you all the time. So much that it bugs me. It’s distracting, too, cause you really shouldn’t be popping up in my thoughts the way you do when I’m trying to ride on Flygon. That’s just dangerous.” You finally lift your eyes to meet his, and he shrugs with a smile when you do, his pointy tooth looking odd when his face is so soft and bashful. “You do anyways.”

You squint.

Raihan rests his face in his palm, laughing gently under his breath. You’re both in a weird staring contest, as if it’s a test of wits. He reaches forward as you stare, and before you realize what he’s doing, he flicks your nose.

You jolt back in shock. “Hey!”

Raihan just laughs, his nose scrunching up and his eyes squinting as he chuckles. “What I’m saying is, I think you’re not alone with your feelings. Either I’m a creeper for thinking of you so often, or I love you, too.” He raises his brow. “You pick which one sounds more appealing to you.”

“Don’t joke around, Raihan,” you can’t help but sigh as you rub your nose.

“Sorry,” surprisingly, he apologizes. Which is odd, catching you off guard as he finally looks away from you. “I’m not real good at this, either.”

“Raihan...” You softly call his name, and he purses his lips. There’s no other way to describe his demeanor other than ‘shy’, which is never a word you’d think you would use to describe him.

“The feeling is mutual, is what I’m saying.”

You almost want to laugh. “What happened to not liking serious relationships? Would- do you still feel that way?” You can’t help but ask him. Just because- wow- maybe he loves you, doesn’t mean that’s changed.

“Well, I’ve never loved anybody before.” Raihan lifts a hand, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck as he finally stops slouching over his knees and straightens his posture. “But if you’d be into it...” He trails off.

...Hm. Slowly, your hand reaches forward, and you grab Raihan’s as gently as you can. It makes your heart speed up a bit, and Raihan’s eyes snap toward you when you do- but you smile. “We can go slow. See what happens. If it doesn’t work for you- I’m still going to love you.” You tell him, honesty in your tone. “I can’t expect you to be the world’s best boyfriend if you’ve never even thought about being one before.”

“I’ve thought about it sometimes,” he mumbles, and his hand is absurdly long in yours- you notice it even more when he fumbles with how small you are before squeezing your palm. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah,” you nod at him. Surprisingly, you’re honest- you feel sure of yourself. “You’re my best friend, Raihan. You’ll always be my best friend, no matter what happens.”

Slowly, he smiles back, and it’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen. In the back of your mind, you realize that Raihan is actually a sweetheart, and you wonder how he’d react if you added that to his long list of nicknames.

Perhaps you’ll try it out.

#Anonymous #rushed ending because my FRIEND is a baby who sleeps at 11 on the dot every night #ajdgkadfjgafh #chucks this at you #baby #raihan x reader #raihan x you #gym leader raihan x reader #gym leader raihan x you #pokemon x reader #imagines #swsh x reader #pokemon swsh x reader #pokemon sword and shield x reader #pokemon imagines #pokemon swsh imagines #pokemon sword and shield imagines #reader insert

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magicalgirlsandcerulean · 4 years ago

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Episode 9's blog post (Spoilers under the cut!)

This post by Balletta is dated 8th June 2021. It apparently took him 8 hours to write...which is why I took so long putting this post out. (I had to skip a lot of the descriptive stuff and it still took me over 4 hours to do this post...)

There are also some tweets from Hishida below, including one regarding ep. 10. If you don't want any info about ep. 10 until you get to it, skip reading tweet 2.

Due to the nature of the ep., there is a mention of suicide below.

Hishida's tweet 1:

そういえばF蘭９話でゲスな男の久ニさん役で鳥海浩輔さんが出演してくれました。僕にとっては初監督作の陰陽大戦記でタイザン役を演じてくれたとても恩のある方です。ありがとうございました。そして明日放送の１０話でも非常にお世話になった方が登場します。これも逃れられない縁なのでしょうか！？

Now that you mention it, F-Ran episode 9's male sleazebag Kyuji was voiced by Kosuke Toriumi. For me, he had the role of Daizan in my first directorial work, Onmyou Taisenki, so I have a big obligation towards him. Thanks a lot. Also, episode 10, which is airing tomorrow, has a person who's taken extreme care of me. Is this an inescapable fate?!

(Who is this he's talking about? Read on.)

Hishida's tweet 2:

まさか福山潤くんに会えるとはね。りっくん、生まれ変わってギャンブラーになってました…w #フィクションです

Unexpectedly, I was able to meet Jun Fukuyama, huh? Rikkun was reborn as a gambler...LOL #ThisIsFiction

"Rikkun" = Riku Tachibana, protagonist of Onmyou Taisenki.

Hishida's tweet 3:

美梨香ちゃん、プリチャンのルルナ…。僕はキャスティングには関わっていません。

Birika-chan is Pri-chan's Luluna...My casting has not changed.

Pri-chan = Kiratto Pri-chan. Luluna and Birika share the VA Hibiku Yamamura.

On to the post (note Balletta goes backwards and forwards in time a lot in this post, so with that on top of my omissions, it's a bit hard to keep track of):

Post's name: "The Perverted and Slightly Sad Episode 9". (You know why it's perverted, but the "slightly sad" will be revealed later on. Balletta specifically uses a word for "slightly sad" used by teenage girls, ぱおん.)

Balletta starts by giving various greetings (this matches last time's), asks if everyone enjoyed Fairy Ranmaru ep. 9. It's Uruu's second turn, so he's going to give real-time thoughts and comments on the ep.

The ep starts with Uruu painting "blue roses" (according to Balletta). "収録の時に、第3話の時みたいにうるうくんの英語から始まったらどうしよう…と台本貰うまでドキドキしてたのはここだけの秘密です…" - "It's a secret between us that when we were recording, I was nervous until I got the script, wondering what would happen if we started with Uruu-kun's English like in episode 3..."

Balletta goes on to discuss how people call Uruu "Blue Rose" (from Tiger and Bunny). People have been making this connection ever since the key visual (the one with the fairy forms) dropped. Even now, when watching the anime on Nico Nico Douga, he'll think: "Hi, Blue Rose's older brother!").

He skips to Uruu's mother's suicide scene. Her wings are broken like glass and Balletta thinks this is when Uruu's heart was broken too. This is also where he thinks Uruu's ideal of "always be proper" was born.

The blushing Homura, being healed by Bakkun and reading an article on Shiina's manga, is "transcendently cute".

It's at this point where Balletta starts introducing quotes from the discussion with "ワン！トゥー！！スリー！！！" ("One! Two!! Three!!!") (<- For the curious, there are 6 of these in the post, but they're not entirely the same.)

Balletta wonders in small text if there was tongue or not during the CPR scene...

"この時のうるうくんの表情が完全に悪役の悪い顔になってて、正直自分もアニメ見てて「うるうくん！顔わるいなぁー！！」ってなりましたね！" - "That time Uruu's face looked like a villain's, and straight up I also saw in the anime, 'Uruu-kun! You're making a bad face-!!'"

Balletta is relieved Homura has been revived.

The sloth's lump is moving...

Balletta introduces Birika and the plot of the week. "不倫！ダメ！！ゼッタイ！！！" - "Adultery! Don't do it!! Absolutely don't!!!" (he repeats this through the post and counts the times he says it - the editing Chesarka from the future says he ends up with 3 instances of this)

Balletta recaps that Uruu is good at painting, as we know from ep. 1. It seems to be the same painting, but then he puts red paint on top. This made Balle-san think of Homura so much, he couldn't concentrate on the painting. In short, FIRE (insert flame emoji, obviously referencing Homura's shirt).

5 to Heaven synced up on how they thought during recording. When Uruu is talking to Birika and she says "心が清廉だからだよ" ("Because you have an honest heart."), they all thought, "心が清廉、どうも清怜うるうです。" ("You have an honest heart - thank you, Uruu Seiren.") Balletta thinks they increased their bonds as a result. (Note "honest" in this case is "seiren".)

Some descriptive bits later, we get to this sentence: "第1話から今回の第9話までに、うるうくんの心情や見えている世界が大きく変わったことを意味しているのではないかと自分は思いました！" I thought from ep. 1 until ep. 9, the world he is seeing has changed greatly!" A bit further down: "先程も話した、第1話から第9話にかけて、うるくんの心情や見えている世界が大きく変わってきていると言ったもう一つの理由がこの言葉なんです！第1話では世界に対しても常に正しくあるべきと考えていたうるうくんが、第9話に至るまでに色んなことがありました。

過去のトラウマ、火焔族への憎しみ、焔くんに対しての嫉妬。" - "That's another reason why I said earlier the world Uruu-kun sees has changed greatly from ep. 1 to ep. 9! Ep. 1, where Uruu-kun thinks everything should be correct about the world, to the Uruu-kun in ep. 9 who has had various things happen. Past trauma, the hatred of the Ignis clan, the jealousy which he feels towards Homura."

Balletta can't believe how Birika's mother came back and had a kiss mark on her neck. He gets so angered he starts making puns on his own name (bareru means to leak a secret, while barebare means a transparent lie) and ends with "あ、どうもバレッタです。" - more along the lines of "Ah, sorry, I'm Balletta" than the previous "thank you"s - before returning to the previous discussion.

Some more description later, Balletta mentions the appearance of Sirius. "素晴らC！いや！すばらシリウス！！！" - "SubaraC (shii)! No! SubaraSirius!!!" (subarashii = wonderful) He then discusses Sirius's musings.

End A part. Balletta stops for a bit to note "You only noticed all this incredible impressions and comments are [for] the A part? Didn't you see the previous post?" He also comments Hori's post was short and that was fine. "ま、イケメンだからいっか！！！（うるうくん達が）" - "Well, they're handsome, so what?!!! (Uruu-kun and co. are)"

Now to the B part. Balletta notes there's a piece of art that is a pot in the art gallery. Pot quota: check.

Some description (and more yelling about how adultery is bad and unforgivable) later: we get to the kiss scene. This transformation is voiced differently to the one in ep. 3 in terms of the pan upwards part and the sound effect of boots scratching you can hear during the "Taboo rescinded! Love! In abundance!" callout. "自分もリアルタイムで第9話見てて、「あれ！？ボイス変わってるし、音が追加されてる！凄い！！」ってテレビの前でなってました！ありがたい限りです！" - "Even when watching ep. 9 in real-time, I was in front of the TV, going, 'Huh?! The voice changed and a sound was added! Amazing!!' I'm nothing but grateful!"

Hotel Tsubo returns. "なんかもう毎回このアニメをリアルタイムで見るたびに「今回はどこに壺が隠れてるかなぁ〜♪」ってなってる自分がいてビックリしますよ笑" - "Basically every time I watch this anime in real-time, I'll be like, 'Where will they hide the pot this time~?♪', so I'm surprised. LOL"

"そしてそんな「HOTEL壺」では、美梨香さんの母親と久二さんがS○Xしてるシーンが出ましたね。申し訳ないけどもう一回だけ言わせてくださいね…

ふざけんにょ！！！" - "Also, at that Hotel Tsubo, Birika-chan's mother and Kyuji have a scene where they're having s_x. I'm sorry for saying this, but please let me say this once...stop screwing around!!!" (The "screw" pun is intentional on my part.)

Enka scene. Balletta calls Uruu "sexy & beautiful" because of his black lace wings and strong gaze.

Head back to Bar F. "バックンはこのアニメの癒し…

いつもありがとうバックン！" - "Bakkun [being] in this anime is healing...thanks as always, Bakkun!"

Some description later, around the part where Uruu's mother says Uruu is just like his dad...you can see germ-like objects that look like water fleas and Uruu gains some damage from them sticking themselves down his throat. There are various versions of this scene and after all the yelling from recording them, he felt considerably more passionate.

Some more description later, Balletta doubles back to the scene slightly beforehand. where Ranmaru and Chilka are in the same place.

Balletta then continues for a bit about the plot and is at the scene where Kyuji is relieved he's free of the old hag when he goes, "ワン！トゥー！！スリー！！！「エヘッ、ぱおーん！」こんの野郎ーーーー！！！ぱおーんじゃねぇんだよぉー！！！！！ガオーってライオンだらけの檻の中にぶち込むぞぉーーーー！！！となったのはこのブログだけにそっと記しておきますね。" ("One! Two!! Three!!! 'Ehe, that's kinda sad!' These bastards---!!! This isn't 'kinda sad'!!!!! I'll throw you into a cage full of roaring lions----!!!...This blog became a place where I can quietly write this precisely [because I can], huh?")

Balletta discusses the final scene and then draws attention to Takara's scene by going, "「あっちゃー、もう一山残っちまったかぁー」えっ！？何が残ったの！？" - "'The worst is yet to come.' What's coming?!" (<- Translation using the CR line)

He then tells everyone to look forward to next time's Fairy Ranmaru ep., says he's finished, that was ep. 9's comments and impressions, apologises for his long post again and puts some promotional stuff I've already covered on magicalgirlsandcerulean (in order: character song CD, the live show in Sept., Sweets Paradise, Vivid Army, Otasuke Heaven, BD/DVD 1, the curry plate, Bakkun plush, key necklaces, Fairy Ranmaru's official Twitter + YouTube). He then ends by saying he's done (again) and he's Yutaka Balletta, who voices Uruu.

Takara's comment: "原稿用紙40枚やで～気合い入れて読んでや～" - "You took 40 sheets of genkou youshi~. We read it with effort." (referencing the line where he apologises for his long post: "今回また2回目の当番回だったというのもあって気合い入れまくった結果やっぱり長文になってしまいました！ご容赦くださいまし！！" - "This time was the 2nd time I was in charge [of the post], so the result was, of course, me putting in effort! Please forgive me [for my long post]!")

Update: Minor fixes for accuracy and clarity.

#Fairy Ranmaru #Fairy Ranmaru spoilers #Yutaka Balletta #Uruu Seiren #Masakazu Hishida

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grigori77 · 4 years ago

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Summer 2021′s Movies - My Top Ten Favourite Films (Part 2)

The Top Ten:

10. WEREWOLVES WITHIN – definitely one of the year’s biggest cinematic surprises so far, this darkly comic supernatural murder mystery from indie horror director Josh Ruben (Scare Me) is based on a video game, but you’d never know it – this bears so little resemblance to the original Ubisoft title that it’s a wonder anyone even bothered to make the connection, but even so, this is now notable for officially being the highest rated video game adaptation in Rotten Tomatoes history, with a Certified Fresh rating of 86%. Certainly it deserves that distinction, but there’s so much more to the film – this is an absolute blood-splattered joy, the title telling you everything you need to know about the story but belying the film’s pure, quirky genius. Veep’s Sam Richardson is forest ranger Finn Wheeler, a gentle and socially awkward soul who arrives at his new post in the remote small town of Beaverton to discover the few, uniformly weird residents are divided over the oil pipeline proposition of forceful and abrasive businessman Sam Parker (The Hunt’s Wayne Duvall). As he tries to fit in and find his feet, investigating the disappearance of a local dog while bonding with local mail carrier Cecily Moore (Other Space and This Is Us’ Milana Vayntrub), the discovery of a horribly mutilated human body leads to a standoff between the townsfolk and an enforced lockdown in the town’s ramshackle hotel as they try to work out who amongst them is the “werewolf” they suspect is responsible. This is frequently hilarious, the offbeat script from appropriately named Mishna Wolff (I’m Down) dropping some absolutely zingers and crafting some enjoyably weird encounters and unexpected twists, while the uniformly excellent cast do much of the heavy-lifting to bring their rich, thoroughly oddball characters to vivid life – Richardson is thoroughly cuddly throughout, while Duvall is pleasingly loathsome, Casual’s Michaela Watkins is pleasingly grating as Trisha, flaky housewife to unrepentant local horn-dog Pete Anderton (Orange is the New Black’s Michael Chernus), and Cheyenne Jackson (American Horror Story) and Harry Guillen (best known, OF COURSE, as Guillermo in the TV version of What We Do In the Shadows) make an enjoyably spiky double-act as liberal gay couple Devon and Joaquim Wolfson; in the end, though, the film is roundly stolen by Vayntrub, who invests Cecily with a bubbly sweetness and snarky sass that makes it absolutely impossible to not fall completely in love with her (gods know I did). This is a deeply funny film, packed with proper belly-laughs from start to finish, but like all the best horror comedies it takes its horror elements seriously, delivering some enjoyably effective scares and juicy gore, while the werewolf itself, when finally revealed, is realised through some top-notch prosthetics. Altogether this was a most welcome under-the-radar surprise for the summer, and SO MUCH MORE than just an unusually great video game adaptation …

9. THE TOMORROW WAR – although cinemas finally reopened in the UK in early summer, the bite of the COVID lockdown backlog was still very much in effect this blockbuster season, with several studios preferring to hedge their bets and wait for later release dates. Others turned to streaming services, including Paramount, who happily lined up a few heavyweight titles to open on major platforms in lieu of the big screen. One of the biggest was this intended sci-fi action horror tentpole, meant to give Chris Pratt another potential franchise on top of Guardians of the Galaxy and Jurassic World, which instead dropped in early July on Amazon Prime. So, was it worth staying in on a Saturday night instead of heading out for something on the BIG screen? Mostly yes, although it’s mainly a trashy, guilty pleasure big budget B-picture charm that makes this such a worthwhile experience – the film’s biggest influences are clearly Independence Day and Starship Troopers, two admirably clunky blockbusters that DEFINED prioritising big spectacle and overblown theatrics over intelligent writing and realistic storytelling. It doesn’t help that the premise is pure bunk – in 2022, a wormhole opens from thirty years in the future, and a plea for help is sent back with a bunch of very young future soldiers. Seems Earth will become overrun by an unstoppable swarm of nasty alien critters called Whitespikes in 25 years, and the desperate human counteroffensive have no choice but to bring soldiers from our present into the future to help them fight back and save the humanity from imminent extinction. Less than a year later, the world’s standing armies have been decimated and a worldwide draft has been implemented, with normal everyday adults being sent through for a seven day tour from which very few return. Pratt plays biology teacher and former Green Beret Dan Forrester, one of the latest batch of draftees to be sent into the future along with a selection of chefs, soccer moms and other average joes – his own training and experience serves him better than most when the shit hits the fan, but it soon becomes clear that he’s just as out of his depth as everyone else as the sheer enormity of the threat is revealed. But when he becomes entangled with a desperate research outfit led by Muri (Chuck’s Yvonne Strahovski) who seem to be on the verge of a potential world-changing scientific breakthrough, Dan realises there just might be a slender hope for humanity after all … this is every bit as over-the-top gung-ho bonkers as it sounds, and just as much fun. Director Chris McKay may still be pretty fresh (with only The Lego Batman Movie under his belt to date), but he shows a lot of talent and potential for big budget blockbuster filmmaking here, delivering with guts and bravado on some major action sequences (a fraught ticking-clock SAR operation through a war-torn Miami is the film’s undeniable highlight, but a desperate battle to escape a blazing oil rig also really impresses), as well as handling some impressively complex visual effects work and wrangling some quality performances from his cast (altogether it bodes well for his future, which includes Nightwing and Johnny Quest as future projects). Chris Pratt can do this kind of stuff in his sleep – Dan is his classic fallible and self-deprecating but ultimately solid and kind-hearted action hero fare, effortlessly likeable and easy to root for – and his supporting cast are equally solid, Strahovsky going toe-to-toe with him in the action sequences while also creating a rewardingly complex smart-woman/badass combo in Muri, while the other real standouts include Sam Richardson (Veep, Werewolves Within) and Edwin Hodge (The Purge movies) as fellow draftees Charlie and Dorian, the former a scared-out-of-his-mind tech geek while the latter is a seriously hardcore veteran serving his THIRD TOUR, and the ever brilliant J.K. Simmonds as Dan’s emotionally scarred estranged Vietnam-vet father, Jim. Sure, it’s derivative as hell and thoroughly predictable (with more than one big twist you can see coming a mile away), but the pace is brisk, the atmosphere pregnant with a palpable doomed urgency, and the creatures themselves are a genuinely convincing world-ending threat, the design team and visual effects wizards creating genuine nightmare fuel in the feral and unrelenting Whitespikes. Altogether this WAS an ideal way to spend a comfy Saturday night in, but I think it could have been JUST AS GOOD for a Saturday night OUT at the Pictures …

8. ARMY OF THE DEAD – another high profile release that went straight to streaming was this genuine monster hit for Netflix from one of this century’s undeniable heavyweight action cinema masters, the indomitable Zack Snyder, who kicked off his career with an audience-dividing (but, as far as I’m concerned, ultimately MASSIVELY successful) remake of George Romero’s immortal Dawn of the Dead, and has finally returned to zombie horror after close to two decades away. The end result is, undeniably, the biggest cinematic guilty pleasure of the entire summer, a bona fide outbreak horror EPIC in spite of its tightly focused story – Dave Bautista plays mercenary Scott Ward, leader a badass squad of soldiers of fortune who were among the few to escape a deadly outbreak of a zombie virus in the city of Las Vegas, enlisted to break into the vault of one of the Strip’s casinos by owner Bly Tanaka (a fantastically game turn from Hiroyuki Sanada) and rescue $200 million still locked away inside. So what’s the catch? Vegas remains ground zero for the outbreak, walled off from the outside world but still heavily infested within, and in less than three days the US military intends to sterilise the site with a tactical nuke. Simple premise, down and dirty, trashy flick, right? Wrong – Snyder has never believed in doing things small, having brought us unapologetically BIG cinema with the likes of 300, Watchmen, Man of Steel and, most notably, his version of Justice League, so this is another MASSIVE undertaking, every scene shot for maximum thrills or emotional impact, each set-piece executed with his characteristic militaristic precision and explosive predilection (a harrowing fight for survival against a freshly-awakened zombie horde in tightly packed casino corridors is the film’s undeniable highlight), and the gauzy, dreamlike cinematography gives even simple scenes an intriguing and evocative edge that really does make you feel like you’re watching something BIG. The characters all feel larger-than-life too – Bautista can seem somewhat cartoonish at times, and this role definitely plays that as a strength, making Scott a rock-hard alpha male in the classic Hollywood mould, but he’s such a great actor that of course he’s able to invest the character with real rewarding complexity beneath the surface; Ana de la Reguera (Eastbound & Down) and Nora Arnezeder (Zoo, Mozart in the Jungle), meanwhile, both bring a healthy dose of oestrogen-fuelled badassery to proceedings as, respectively, Scott’s regular second-in-command, Maria Cruz, and Lilly the Coyote, Power’s Omari Hardwick and Matthias Schweighofer (You Are Wanted) make for a fun odd-couple double act as circular-saw-wielding merc Vanderohe and Dieter, the nervous, nerdy German safecracker brought in to crack the vault, and Fear the Walking Dead’s Garrett Dillahunt channels spectacular scumbag energy as Tanaka’s sleazy former casino boss Martin, while latecomer Tig Notaro (Star Trek Discovery) effortlessly rises above her last-minute-casting controversy to deliver brilliantly as sassy and acerbic chopper pilot Peters. I think it goes without saying that Snyder can do this in his sleep, but he definitely wasn’t napping here – he pulled out all the stops on this one, delivering a thrilling, darkly comic and endearingly CRACKERS zombie flick that not only compares favourably to his own Dawn but is, undeniably, his best film for AGES. Netflix certainly seem to be pleased with the results – a spinoff prequel, Army of Thieves, starring Dieter in another heist thriller, is set to drop in October, with an animated series following in the Spring, and there’s already rumours of a sequel in development. I’m certainly up for more …

7. BLACK WIDOW – no major blockbuster property was hit harder by COVID than the MCU, which saw its ENTIRE SLATE for 2020 delayed for over a year in the face of Marvel Studios bowing to the inevitability of the Pandemic and unwilling to sacrifice those all-important box-office receipts by just sending their films straight to streaming. The most frustrating part for hardcore fans of the series was the delay of a standalone film that was already criminally overdue – the solo headlining vehicle of founding Avenger and bona fide female superhero ICON Natasha Romanoff, aka the Black Widow. ��Equally frustratingly, then, this film seems set to be overshadowed by real life controversy as star and producer Scarlett Johansson goes head-to-head with Disney in civil court over their breach-of-contract after they hedged their bets by releasing the film simultaneously in cinemas and on their own streaming platform, which has led to poor box office as many of the film’s potential audience chose to watch it at home instead of risk movie theatres with the virus still very much remaining a threat (and Disney have clearly reacted AGAIN, now backtracking on their release policy by instigating a new 45-day cinematic exclusivity window on all their big releases for the immediate future). But what of the film itself? Well Black Widow is an interesting piece of work, director Cate Shortland (Berlin Syndrome) and screenwriter Eric Pearson (Thor: Ragnarok) delivering a decidedly stripped-back, lean and intellectual beast that bears greater resemblance to the more cerebral work of the Russo Brothers on their Captain America films than the more classically bombastic likes of Iron Man, Thor or the Avengers flicks, concentrating on story and characters over action and spectacle as we wind back the clock to before the events of Infinity War and Endgame, when Romanoff was on the run after Civil War, hunted by the government-appointed forces of US Secretary of State “Thunderbolt” Ross (William Hurt) after violating the Sokovia Accords. Then a mysterious delivery throws her back into the fray as she finds herself targeted by a mysterious assassin, forcing her to team up with her estranged “sister” Yelena Belova (Midsommar’s Florence Pugh), another Black Widow who’s just gone rogue from the same Red Room Natasha escaped years ago, armed with a McGuffin capable of foiling a dastardly plot for world domination. The reluctant duo need help in this endeavour though, enlisting the aid of their former “parents”, veteran Widow and scientist Melina Vostokoff (Rachel Weisz) and Alexie Shostakov (Stranger Things’ David Harbour), aka the Red Guardian, a Russian super-soldier intended to be their counterpart to Captain America, who’s been languishing in a Siberian gulag for the last twenty years. After the Earth-shaking, universe-changing events of recent MCU events, this film certainly feels like a much more self-contained, modest affair, playing for much smaller stakes, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less worthy of our attention – this is as precision-crafted as anything we’ve seen from Marvel so far, but it also feels like a refreshing change of pace after all those enormous cosmic shenanigans, while the script is as tight as a drum, propelling a taut, suspense-filled thriller that certainly doesn’t scrimp on the action front. Sure, the set-pieces are very much in service of the story here, but they’re still the pre-requisite MCU rollercoaster rides, a selection of breathless chases and bone-crunching fights that really do play to the strengths of one of our favourite Avengers, but this is definitely one of those films where the real fireworks come when the film focuses on the characters – Johansson is so comfortable with her character she’s basically BECOME Natasha Romanoff, kickass and ruthless and complex and sassy and still just desperate for a family (though she hides it well throughout the film), while Weisz delivers one of her best performances in years as a peerless professional who keeps her emotions tightly reigned in but slowly comes to realise that she was never more happy than when she was pretending to be a simple mother, and Ray Winstone does a genuinely fantastic job of taking a character who could have been one of the MCU’s most disappointingly bland villains, General Dreykov, master of the Red Room, and investing him with enough oily charisma and intense presence to craft something truly memorable (frustratingly, the same cannot be said for the film’s supposed main physical threat, Taskmaster, who performs well in their frustratingly brief appearances but ultimately gets Darth Maul levels of short service). The true scene-stealers in the film, however, are Alexie and Yelena – Harbour’s clearly having the time of his life hamming it up as a self-important, puffed-up peacock of a superhero who never got his shot and is clearly (rightly) decidedly bitter about it, preferring to relive the life he SHOULD have had instead of remembering the good in the one he got; Pugh, meanwhile, is THE BEST THING IN THE WHOLE MOVIE, easily matching Johanssen scene-for-scene in the action stakes but frequently out-performing her when it comes to acting, investing Yelena with a sweet naivety and innocence and a certain amount of quirky geekiness that makes for one of the year’s most endearing female protagonists (certainly one who, if the character goes the way I think she will, is thoroughly capable of carrying the torch for the foreseeable future). In the end this is definitely one of the LEAST typical, by-the-numbers MCU films to date, and by delivering something a little different I think they’ve given us just the kind of leftfield swerve the series needs right now. It’s certainly one of their most fascinating and rewarding films so far, and since it seems to be Johansson’s final tour of duty as the Black Widow, it’s also a most fitting farewell indeed.

6. WRATH OF MAN – Guy Ritchie’s latest (regarded by many as a triumphant return to form, which I consider unfair since I don’t think he ever went away, especially after 2020’s spectacular The Gentlemen) is BY FAR his darkest film – let’s get this clear from the start. Anyone who knows his work knows that Ritchie consistently maintains a near flawless balance and humour and seriousness in his films that gives them a welcome quirkiness that is one of his most distinctive trademarks, so for him to suddenly deliver a film which takes itself SO SERIOUSLY is one hell of a departure. This is a film which almost REVELS in its darkness – Ritchie’s always loved bathing in man’s baser instincts, but Wrath of Man almost makes a kind of twisted VIRTUE out of wallowing in the genuine evils that men are capable of inflicting on each other. The film certainly kicks off as it means to go on – In a tour-de-force single-shot opening, we watch a daring armoured car robbery on the streets of Los Angeles that goes horrifically wrong, an event which will have devastating consequences in the future. Five months later, Fortico Security hires taciturn Brit Patrick Hill (Jason Statham) to work as a guard in one of their trucks, and on his first run he single-handedly foils another attempted robbery with genuinely uncanny combat skills. The company is thrilled, amazed by the sheer ability of their new hire, but Hill’s new colleagues are more concerned, wondering exactly what they’ve let themselves in for. After a second foiled robbery, it becomes clear that Hill’s reputation has grown, but fellow guard Haiden (Holt McCallany), aka “Bullet”, begins to suspect there might be something darker going on … Ritchie is firing on all cylinders here, delivering a PERFECT slow-burn suspense thriller which plays its cards close to its chest and cranks up its piano wire tension with artful skill as it builds to a devastating, knuckle-whitening explosive heist that acts as a cathartic release for everything that’s built up over the past hour and a half. In typical Ritchie style the narrative is non-linear, the story unfolding in four distinct parts told from clearly differentiated points of view, allowing the clues to be revealed at a trickle that effortlessly draws the viewer in as they fall deeper down the rabbit hole, leading to a harrowing but strangely poignant denouement which is perfectly in tune with everything that’s come before. It’s an immense pleasure finally getting to see Statham working with Ritchie again, and I don’t think he’s ever been better than he is here – he's always been a brilliantly understated actor, but there’s SO MUCH going on under Hill’s supposedly impenetrable calm that every little peek beneath the armour is a REVELATION; McCallany, meanwhile, has landed his best role since his short but VERY sweet supporting turn in Fight Club, seemingly likeable and fallible as the kind of easy-going co-worker anyone in the service industry would be THRILLED to have, but giving Bullet far more going on under the surface, while there are uniformly excellent performances from a top-shelf ensemble supporting cast which includes Josh Hartnett, Jeffrey Donovan (Burn Notice, Sicario), Andy Garcia, Laz Alonso (The Boys), Eddie Marsan, Niamh Algar (Raised By Wolves) and Darrell D’Silva (Informer, Domina), and a particularly edgy and intense turn from Scott Eastwood. This is one of THE BEST thrillers of the year, by far, a masterpiece of mood, pace and plot that ensnares the viewer from its gripping opening and hooks them right up to the close, a triumph of the genre and EASILY Guy Ritchie’s best film since Snatch. Regardless of whether or not it’s a RETURN to form, we can only hope he continues to deliver fare THIS GOOD in the future …

5. FEAR STREET (PARTS 1-3) – Netflix have gotten increasingly ambitious with their original filmmaking over the years, and some of this years’ offerings have reached new heights of epic intention. Their most exciting release of the summer was this adaptation of popular children’s horror author R.L. Stine’s popular book series, a truly gargantuan undertaking as the filmmakers set out to create an entire TRILOGY of films which were then released over three consecutive weekends. Interestingly, these films are most definitely NOT for kids – this is proper, no-holds-barred supernatural slasher horror, delivering highly calibrated shocks and precision jump scares, a pervading atmosphere of insidious dread and a series of inventively gruesome kills. The story revolves around two neighbouring small towns which have had vastly different fortunes over more than three centuries of existence – while the residents of Sunnyvale are unusually successful, living idyllic lives in peace and prosperity, luck has always been against the people of Shadyside, who languish in impoverishment, crime and misfortune, while the town has become known as the Murder Capital of the USA due to frequent spree killings. Some attribute this to the supposed curse of a local urban legend, Sarah Fier, who became known as the Fier Witch after her execution for witchcraft in 1668, but others dismiss this as simple superstition. Part 1 is set in 1994, as the latest outbreak of serial mayhem begins in Shadyside, dragging a small group of local teens – Deena Johnson (She Never Died’s Kiana Madeira) and Samantha Fraser (Olivia Scott Welch), a young lesbian couple going through a difficult breakup, Deena’s little brother Josh (The Haunted Hathaways’ Benjamin Flores Jr.), a nerdy history geek who spends most of his time playing video games or frequenting violent crime-buff online chatrooms, and their delinquent friends Simon (Eight Grade’s Fred Hechinger) and Kate (Julia Rehwald) – into the age-old ghostly conspiracy as they find themselves besieged by indestructible undead serial killers from the town’s past, reasoning that the only way they can escape with their lives is to solve the mystery and bring the Fier Witch some much needed closure. Part 2, meanwhile, flashes back to a previous outbreak in 1977, in which local sisters Ziggy (Stranger Things’ Sadie Sink) and Cindy Berman (Emily Rudd), together with future Sunnyvale sheriff Nick Goode (Ted Sutherland) were among the kids hunted by said killers during a summer camp “colour war”. As for Part 3, that goes all the way back to 1668 to tell the story of what REALLY happened to Sarah Fier, before wrapping up events in 1994, culminating in a terrifying, adrenaline-fuelled showdown in the Shadyside Mall. Throughout, the youthful cast are EXCEPTIONAL, Madeira, Welch, Flores Jr., Sink and Rudd particularly impressing, while there are equally strong turns from Ashley Zuckerman (The Code, Designated Survivor) and Community’s Gillian Jacobs as the grown-up versions of two key ’77 kids, and a fun cameo from Maya Hawke in Part 1. This is most definitely retro horror in the Stranger Things mould, perfectly executed period detail bringing fun nostalgic flavour to all three of the timelines while the peerless direction from Leigh Janiak (Honeymoon) and wire-tight, sharp-witted screenplays from Janiak, Kyle Killen (Lone Star, The Beaver), Phil Graziadel, Zak Olkewicz and Kate Trefry strike a perfect balance between knowing dark humour and knife-edged terror, as well as weaving an intriguingly complex narrative web that pulls the viewer in but never loses them to overcomplication. The design, meanwhile, is evocative, the cinematography (from Stanger Things’ Caleb Heymann) is daring and magnificently moody, and the killers and other supernatural elements of the film are handled with skill through largely physical effects. This is definitely not a standard, by-the-numbers slasher property, paying strong homage to the sub-genre’s rules but frequently subverting them with expert skill, and it’s as much fun as it is frightening. Give us some more like this please, Netflix!

4. THE SPARKS BROTHERS – those who’ve been following my reviews for a while will known that while I do sometimes shout about documentary films, they tend to show up in my runners-up lists – it’s a great rarity for one to land in one of my top tens. This lovingly crafted deep-dive homage to cult band Sparks, from self-confessed rabid fanboy Edgar Wright (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz, Scott Pilgrim), is something VERY SPECIAL INDEED, then … there’s a vague possibility some of you may have heard the name before, and many of you will know at least one or two of their biggest hits without knowing it was them (their greatest hit of all time, This Town Ain’t Big Enough for the Both of Us, immediately springs to mind), but unless you’re REALLY serious about music it’s quite likely you have no idea who they are, namely two brothers from California, Russell and Ronald Mael, who formed a very sophisticated pop-rock band in the late 60s and then never really went away, having moments of fame but mostly working away in the background and influencing some of the greatest bands and musical artists that followed them, even if many never even knew where that influence originally came from. Wright’s film is an engrossing joy from start to finish (despite clocking in at two hours and twenty minutes), following their eclectic career from obscure inception as Halfnelson, through their first real big break with third album Kimono My Place, subsequent success and then fall from popularity in the mid-70s, through several subsequent revitalisations, all the way up to the present day with their long-awaited cinematic breakthrough, revolutionary musical feature Annette – throughout Wright keeps the tone light and the pace breezy, allowing a strong and endearing sense of irreverence to rule the day as fans, friends and the brothers themselves offer up fun anecdotes and wax lyrical about what is frequently a larger-than-life tragicomic soap opera, utilising fun, crappy animation and idiosyncratic stock footage inserts alongside talking-head interviews that were made with a decidedly tongue-in-cheek style – Mike Myers good-naturedly rants about how we can see his “damned mole” while 80s New Romantic icons Nick Rhodes and John Taylor, while shot together, are each individually labelled as “Duran”. Ron and Russ themselves, meanwhile, are clearly having huge fun, gently ribbing each other and dropping some fun deadpan zingers throughout proceedings, easily playing to the band’s strong, idiosyncratic sense of hyper-intelligent humour, while the aforementioned celebrity talking-heads are just three amongst a whole wealth of famous faces that may surprise you – there’s even an appearance by Neil Gaiman, guys! Altogether this is 2+ hours of bright and breezy fun chock full of great music and fascinating information, and even hardcore Sparks fans are likely to learn more than a little over the course of the film, while for those who have never heard of Sparks before it’s a FANTASTIC introduction to one of the greatest ever bands that you’ve never heard of. With luck there might even be more than a few new fans before the year is out …

3. GUNPOWDER MILKSHAKE – Netflix’ BEST offering of the summer was this surprise hit from Israeli writer-director Navot Papushado (Rabies, Big Bad Wolves), a heavily stylised black comedy action thriller that passes the Bechdel Test with FLYING COLOURS. Playing like a female-centric John Wick, it follows ice-cold, on-top-of-her-game assassin Sam (Karen Gillan) as her latest assignment has some unfortunate side effects, leading her to take on a reparation job to retrieve some missing cash for the local branch of the Irish Mob. The only catch is that a group of thugs have kidnapped the original thief’s little girl, 12 year-old Emily (My Spy’s Chloe Coleman), and Sam, in an uncharacteristic moment of sympathy, decides to intervene, only for the money to be accidentally destroyed in the process. Now she’s got the Mob and her own employers coming after her, and she not only has to save her own skin but also Emily’s, leading her to seek help from the one person she thought she might never see again – her mother, Scarlet (Lena Headey), a master assassin in her own right who’s been hiding from the Mob herself for years. The plot may be simple but at times also a little over-the-top, but the film is never anything less than a pure, unadulterated pleasure, populated with fascinating, living and breathing characters of real complexity and nuance, while the script (co-written by relative newcomer Ehud Lavski) is tightly-reined and bursting with zingers. Most importantly, though, Papushado really delivers on the action front – these are some of the best set-pieces I’ve seen this year, Gillan, her co-stars and the various stunt-performers acquitting themselves admirably in a series of spectacular fights, gun battles and a particularly imaginative car chase that would be the envy of many larger, more expensive productions. Gillan and Coleman have a sweet, awkward chemistry, the MCU star particularly impressing in a subtly nuanced performance that also plays beautifully against Headey’s own tightly controlled turn, while there is awesome support from Angela Bassett, Michelle Yeoh and Carla Gugino as Sam’s adoptive aunts Anna May, Florence and Madeleine, a trio of “librarians” who run a fine side-line in illicit weaponry and are capable of unleashing some spectacular violence of their own; the film’s antagonists, on the other hand, are exclusively masculine – the mighty Ralph Inneson is quietly ruthless as Irish boss Jim McAlester, while The Terror’s Adam Nagaitis is considerably more mercurial as his mad dog nephew Virgil, and Paul Giamatti is the stately calm at the centre of the storm as Sam’s employer Nathan, the closest thing she has to a father. There’s so much to enjoy in this movie, not just the wonderful characters and amazing action but also the singularly engrossing and idiosyncratic style, deeply affecting themes of the bonds of found family and the healing power of forgiveness, and a rewarding through-line of strong women triumphing against the brutalities of toxic masculinity. I love this film, and I invite you to try it out, cuz I’m sure you will too.

2. THE SUICIDE SQUAD – the most fun I’ve had at the cinema so far this year is the long-awaited (thanks a bunch, COVID) redress of another frustrating imbalance from the decidedly hit and miss DCEU superhero franchise, in which Guardians of the Galaxy writer-director James Gunn has finally delivered a PROPER Suicide Squad movie after David Ayer’s painfully compromised first stab at the property back in 2016. That movie was enjoyable enough and had some great moments, but ultimately it was a clunky mess, and while some of the characters were done (quite) well, others were painfully botched, even ruined entirely. Thankfully Warner Bros. clearly learned their lesson, giving Gunn free reign to do whatever he wanted, and the end result is about as close to perfect as the DCEU has come to date. Once again the peerless Viola Davis plays US government official Amanda Waller, head of ARGUS and the undisputable most evil bitch in all the DC Universe, who presides over the metahuman prisoners of the notorious supermax Belle Reve Prison, cherry-picking inmates for her pet project Taskforce X, the titular Suicide Squad sent out to handle the kind of jobs nobody else wants, in exchange for years off their sentences but controlled by explosive implants injected into the base of their skulls. Their latest mission sees another motley crew of D-bags dispatched to the fictional South African island nation of Corto Maltese to infiltrate Jotunheim, a former Nazi facility in which a dangerous extra-terrestrial entity that’s being developed into a fearful bioweapon, with orders to destroy the project in order to keep it out of the hands of a hostile anti-American regime which has taken control of the island through a violent coup. Where the first Squad felt like a clumsily-arranged selection of stereotypes with a few genuinely promising characters unsuccessfully moulded into a decidedly forced found family, this new batch are convincingly organic – they may be dysfunctional and they’re all almost universally definitely BAD GUYS, but they WORK, the relationship dynamics that form between them feeling genuinely earned. Gunn has already proven himself a master of putting a bunch of A-holes together and forging them into band of “heroes”, and he’s certainly pulled the job off again here, dredging the bottom of the DC Rogues Gallery for its most ridiculous Z-listers and somehow managing to make them compelling. Sure, returning Squad-member Harley Quinn (the incomparable Margot Robbie, magnificent as ever) has already become a fully-realised character thanks to Birds of Prey, so there wasn’t much heavy-lifting to be done here, but Gunn genuinely seems to GET the character, so our favourite pixie-esque Agent of Chaos is an unbridled and thoroughly unpredictable joy here, while fellow veteran Colonel Rick Flagg (a particularly muscular and thoroughly game Joel Kinnaman) has this time received a much needed makeover, Gunn promoting him from being the first film’s sketchily-drawn “Captain Exposition” and turning him into a fully-ledged, well-thought-out human being with all the requisite baggage, including a newfound sense of humour; the newcomers, meanwhile, are a thoroughly fascinating bunch – reluctant “leader” Bloodsport/Robert DuBois (a typically robust and playful Idris Elba), unapologetic douchebag Peacemaker/Christopher Smith (probably the best performance I’ve EVER seen John Cena deliver), and socially awkward and seriously hard-done-by nerd (and by far the most idiotic DC villain of all time) the Polka-Dot Man/Abner Krill (a genuinely heart-breaking hangdog performance from Ant-Man’s David Dastmalchian); meanwhile there’s a fine trio of villainous turns from the film’s resident Big Bads, with Juan Diego Botta (Good Behaviour) and Joaquin Cosio (Quantum of Solace, Narcos: Mexico) making strong impressions as newly-installed dictator Silvio Luna and his corrupt right hand-man General Suarez, although both are EASILY eclipsed by the typically brilliant Peter Capaldi as louche and quietly deranged supervillain The Thinker/Gaius Greives (although the film’s ULTIMATE threat turns out to be something a whole lot bigger and more exotic). The film is ROUNDLY STOLEN, however, by a truly adorable double act (or TRIPLE act, if you want to get technical) – Daniella Melchior makes her breakthrough here in fine style as sweet, principled and kind-hearted narcoleptic second-generation supervillain Ratcatcher II/Cleo Cazo, who has the weird ability to control rats (and who has a pet rat named Sebastian who frequently steals scenes all on his own), while a particular fan-favourite B-lister makes his big screen debut here in the form of King Shark/Nanaue, a barely sentient anthropomorphic Great White “shark god” with an insatiable appetite for flesh and a naturally quizzical nature who was brilliantly mo-capped by Steve Agee (The Sarah Silverman Project, who also plays Waller’s hyperactive assistant John Economos) but then artfully completed with an ingenious vocal turn from Sylvester Stallone. James Gunn has crafted an absolute MASTERPIECE here, EASILY the best film he’s made to date, a riotous cavalcade of exquisitely observed and perfectly delivered dark humour and expertly wrangled narrative chaos that has great fun playing with the narrative flow, injects countless spot-on in-jokes and irreverent but utterly essential throwaway sight-gags, and totally endears us to this glorious gang of utter morons right from the start (in which Gunn delivers what has to be one of the most skilful deep-fakes in cinematic history). Sure, there’s also plenty of action, and it’s executed with the kind of consummate skill we’ve now come to expect from Gunn (the absolute highlight is a wonderfully bonkers sequence in which Harley expertly rescues herself from captivity), but like everything else it’s predominantly played for laughs, and there’s no getting away from the fact that this film is an absolute RIOT. By far the funniest thing I’ve seen so far this year, and if I’m honest this is the best of the DCEU offerings to date, too (for me, only the exceptional Birds of Prey can compare) – if Warner Bros. have any sense they’ll give Gunn more to do VERY SOON …

1. A QUIET PLACE, PART II – while UK cinemas finally reopened in early May, I was determined that my first trip back to the Big Screen for 2021 was gonna be something SPECIAL, and indeed I already knew what that was going to be. Thankfully I was not disappointed by my choice – 2018’s A Quiet Place was MY VERY FAVOURITE horror movie of the 2010s, an undeniable masterclass in suspense and sustained screen terror wrapped around a refreshingly original killer concept, and I was among the many fans hoping we’d see more in the future, especially after the film’s teasingly open ending. Against the odds (or perhaps not), writer-director/co-star John Krasinski has pulled off the seemingly impossible task of not only following up that high-wire act, but genuinely EQUALLING it in levels of quality – picking up RIGHT where the first film left off (at least after an AMAZING scene-setting opening in which we’re treated to the events of Day 1 of the downfall of humanity), rejoining the remnants of the Abbott family as they’re forced by circumstances to up-sticks from their idyllic farmhouse home and strike out into the outside world once more, painfully aware at all times that they must maintain perfect silence to avoid the ravenous attentions of the lethal blind alien beasties that now sit at the top of the food chain. Circumstances quickly become dire, however, and embattled mother Evelyn (Emily Blunt) is forced to ally herself with estranged family friend Emmett (Cillian Murphy), now a haunted, desperate vagrant eking out a perilous existence in an abandoned factory, in order to safeguard the future of her children Regan (Millicent Simmonds), Marcus (Noah Jupe) and their newborn baby brother. Regan, however, discovers evidence of more survivors, and with her newfound weapon against the aliens she recklessly decides to set off on her own in the hopes of aiding them before it’s too late … it may only be his second major blockbuster as a director, but Krasinski has once again proven he’s a true heavyweight talent, effortlessly carving out fresh ground in this already magnificently well-realised dystopian universe while also playing magnificently to the established strengths of what came before, delivering another peerless thrill-ride of unbearable tension and knuckle-whitening terror. The central principle of utilising sound at a very strict premium is once again strictly adhered to here, available sources of dialogue once again exploited with consummate skill while sound design and score (another moody triumph from Marco Beltrami) again become THE MOST IMPORTANT aspects of the whole production. The ruined world is once again realised beautifully throughout, most notably in the nightmarish environment of a wrecked commuter train, and Krasinski cranks up the tension before unleashing it in merciless explosions in a selection of harrowing encounters which guaranteed to leave viewers in a puddle of sweat. The director mostly stays behind the camera this time round, but he does (obviously) put in an appearance in the opening flashback as the late Lee Abbott, making a potent impression which leaves a haunting absence that’s keenly felt throughout the remainder of the film, while Blunt continues to display mother lion ferocity as she fights to keep her children safe and Jupe plays crippling fear magnificently but is now starting to show a hidden spine of steel as Marcus finally starts to find his courage; the film once again belongs, however, to Simmonds, the young deaf actress once and for all proving she’s a genuine star in the making as she invests Regan with fierce wilfulness and stubborn determination that remains unshakeable even in the face of unspeakable horrors, and the relationship she develops with Emmett, reluctant as it may be, provides a strong new emotional focus for the story, Murphy bringing an attractive wounded humanity to his role as a man who’s lost anything and is being forced to learn to care for something again. This is another triumph of the genre AND the artform in general, a masterpiece of atmosphere, performance and storytelling which builds magnificently on the skilful foundations laid by the first film, as well as setting things up perfectly for a third instalment which is all but certain to follow. I definitely can’t wait.

#movies 2021 #werewolves within #werewolves within movie #the tomorrow war #army of the dead #Black Widow #black widow movie #black widow mcu #wrath of man #fear street #fear street trilogy #fear street movies #The Sparks Brothers #gunpowder milkshake #the suicide squad #a quiet place part ii #a quiet place part 2 #awesome sauce

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out-of-jams · 5 years ago

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Spirited Away || Final || pjm

↠ Spirited Away ↞ Part of my Ghibli Yandere Series!

You knew that you shouldn’t have gotten out of the car. Shouldn’t have followed your parents into the seemingly abandoned theme park. Shouldn’t have let them eat the food.

Because now they were being held hostage. And you were trapped. Stuck in a backwards resort for supernatural spirits, with no way out except to work to free both yourself and your parents. Until you met a mysterious Park Jimin.

Though there was something not quite right about him.

But he was your only hope of escape. You could trust him…right?

Warnings/Genre: Supernatural. Horror. Yandere!Jimin. Haku!Jimin. Spirited Away!au. Dark themes. Kidnapping. Obsessive behavior. Death of minor characters. Manipulation. Mature themes. Depiction of unhealthy relationships. Violence. Explicit language.

Word Count: 9.5k

Part 2 of 2.

A/N: Oof. This gets pretty dark towards the end. Lol so be warned. Also, this is kind of unedited. So I'll more than likely go through it and fix things tomorrow.

All of my works are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission.

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You hadn’t seen sunlight for what felt like days. Weeks. Months. But had in fact, only been about twenty-four hours. Well, if time passed normally in that place.

The bathhouse had been quiet as you snuck out. Not a soul in sight. So either they were unable to appear in the daylight, or they just chose not to. Whichever, you weren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially not when you felt the warm breeze brush against your exposed skin. Which was a lot since you’d been given a uniform to wear in order to match with the rest of the bathhouse workers. You weren’t sure what to call it. A yukata?

Whatever it was, walking around without shoes took some getting used to.

As your foot hit the first wooden plank of the bridge crossing over from the bathhouse to the town, you let out a sigh. You’d attempted to stay awake all night, too afraid to fall asleep with the shadow lurking outside your window. But you’d been unsuccessful. Had drifted off to sleep sometime between the moon falling and the sun rising.

And had woken up to a neatly folded note lying next to you on your pillow.

Which had scared the absolute shit out of you. Because it’d been left without disturbing you. Without you even knowing that whoever left it had been there. And when you’d unfolded it with shaking fingers and read the perfectly curved script, you’d all-but bolted out of bed and hurriedly dressed.

Crossing the bridge, you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched. Like eyes were on you even though there was no one else around. It raised goosebumps onto your flesh and made your legs move that much quicker. Once across the bridge, you couldn’t resist the urge to look back, check over your shoulder to make sure that no one was there.

The path to the bathhouse was empty.

“There you are.”

You whipped around, hair flying into your face and heart leaping into your throat.

Standing directly behind you was a familiar head of honey hued hair. Jimin greeted your startled wide eyes with a grin across his full lips. He was even more stunning to look at in the brightness of the sun. With white, white teeth and eyes turning a light shade of umber. A different pair of silver earrings swung from the lobes of his ears, looking just as delicate as their wearer.

His warm fingers moved to intertwine themselves with yours before you had a chance to respond.

“This way.” And then he was turning to continue down the path, tugging you behind him.

You cleared your throat as you padded along after him. “Are you sure that we’re allowed to do this?”

“As long as you’re with me, you’ll always be safe.” Jimin spared you a glance over his shoulder, but didn’t slow down his fast pace. And at seeing your cautioned look, he winked. “We don’t have much time, don't worry, we won’t get caught. I promise.”

There it was again. Those two words that graced the tip of his tongue in what was starting to be a pattern. And it was a little odd, jarring. To see him spring back into the excitable persona that he’d adopted before you’d met Namjoon so easily. Replacing the intimidating spell that he’d weaved last night in the elevator like it was nothing. Normal.

It made you do a double take at the pretty smile that flashed you a crooked front tooth. Perhaps he had some kind of split personality? Or maybe he was putting up a front? If that were true, however, then which Jimin was the real one?

The path he was taking you down was unfamiliar. Soft grass tickled the bottom of your bare feet as he cut through a garden. There seemed to be a lot of gardens in that place. And flowers with brightly colored petals covered the path, a stark contrast to the monsters that lay in wait just a few meters back. Past the tall hedges, hidden away where you couldn’t see.

“Right through here.” Jimin pulled you close to his side and you followed the finger he pointed into the distance. Between a bending archway made out of one of the hedges. But he didn’t stop, just continued to urge you along until you stood atop a hill overlooking a field.

It stretched on for what seemingly looked like miles. But the thistles of grass weren’t what caught your attention. But the three long, red roofed barns that stood just below the hill. Rows of wheat and slowly sprouting vegetables spread out as far as the eye could see.

With a sharp intake of breath, you came to stand next to Jimin.

“My parents are there?”

He turned those brown eyes on you with a soft smile and a gentle squeeze of your hand. “Yes.”

You hesitated. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” Jimin tugged you along, feet digging into the grass as he led you down the hill. “But you must never come here without me, understand? It’s too dangerous.”

You gave him your affirmation. Because you didn’t plan on being there very long anyway. Just enough to get your parents and break the hell out.

There were no doors leading inside of the barn, just a wide opened archway that you walked through. And got immediately assaulted by the foul stench of manure and dirt. Such a thick cloud of it that you had to throw an arm across your nose to stifle a cough. Though the smell had nothing on the sight.

Packed wall-to-wall past metal bars were pigs. Dozens of them. Some asleep and others wandering around aimlessly. They weren’t loud, but the occasional grunt of one of the animals spurred the rest into responding like some kind of chaotic harmony.

As the dirt stuck to the bottom of your feet, you couldn’t help but stray closer to the bars with eyes wide. “Which ones are they?”

You tried. You really did. To pick out which pair of pigs were your parents. But it was difficult when they all looked the exact same. And maybe if you were paying attention to your surroundings, had more awareness of the things around you, well. Then perhaps you would have caught the fleeting expression that flickered across Jimin’s face.

“You mean you can’t tell?”

Looking over your shoulder, you bit your lip. He was slowly walking along the opposite side as you with his ring covered fingertips lightly grazing across the rusted metal. Jimin wasn’t looking at you. Too busy eyeing the oblivious pigs as he passed them by. There was something about his tone that threw you off. A lilt to the edge of his gentle voice that made you wonder which side of him you were talking to.

“I..,” You hesitated on responding. Sent another glance at the animals a few feet away, voice quiet. “Should I be able to?”

Jimin paused in his steps and looked you over, hand coming to rest on the rail. Tilted his head. “They don’t remember that they’re human. So it’s your job to figure out which ones they are.”

He turned away to look down at a pair of pigs sniffing at his hand. “If you want to get out of here, that is.”

Eyeing the dozens upon dozens of mindless animals, you swallowed. You’d find you parents. You had to.

A pig grunted. And the rest of them followed.

The breeze was cool against the skin of your cheeks. And the ground was soft beneath your body as you sat, gaze pointed up at the clear blue sky. Jimin’s body heat was warm next to you, eyes closed but still wide awake. He hadn’t wanted to take you back to the bathhouse just yet. Instead, he’d brought you back to the garden that sat atop the hill.

And you were grateful for the few moments of peace.

Even though the man at your side felt...off...sometimes, he’d been nothing but helpful and you were grateful for all of his help. He hadn’t hurt you, unlike the others that inhabited the bathhouse. And you trusted him not to. Maybe you shouldn’t have, since you really didn’t know him, but if he wanted to harm you he would have done so already. Wouldn’t have taken you to see your parents. Wouldn’t have offered to help you escape.

Which brought on the problem of being able to. What if you grabbed the wrong pair of pigs on accident, only to escape that place to find out that they were just that--pigs? What would you do then? Maybe getting out of there wouldn’t be as easy as you’d once thought. Hoped.

The realization hit you hard.

“--ng so hard?”

You blinked. Snapped out of your thoughts and back to reality. Turned to send a questioning look to the man beside you. “What?”

Jimin smiled in amusement, eyes crinkling into little half-moons. His hair was less honey colored in the sun and more of a bright blond with the way it caught the light. A giggle escaped him. One that sounded so innocent and melodic that it pulled a smile from you in return. “I said, what’s got you thinking so hard?”

Pausing, you broke eye contact to follow a puffy white cloud as it drifted lazily overhead. “Just wondering if I’ll ever be able to get my parents out of here.”

While your voice was soft in the breeze, you knew that Jimin heard you. Because he leaned closer to you and palmed your cheek to turn your face to look at him. His warm umber eyes locked with yours, pulled you in and refused to let go. Thumb drew circles against your skin and his breath fanned across your face when he spoke. “You’ll find them, Sen.”

Your eyebrows scrunched in as a wave of confusion washed over you. Sen. He’d called you Sen. But your name wasn’t Sen. Right? It was...something else. Right? The answer sat at the back of your throat somewhere that you couldn’t quite reach. And your mouth parted as you struggled to find it. You almost had it, it was right there at the tip of your tongue. “I--”

And you would have got it if Jimin’s nose brushing against your own hadn’t distracted you.

His hand slid from your cheek to entwine his fingers through your hair. Was so close that his scent washed over you like a wall, bringing with it something familiar. Like the ocean. Waves hitting the shore. Salt in the air.

“Jimin.” You’d meant for it to come out as a question, but it sounded more breathy than anything. Got swept up with the wind.

He hummed in the back of his throat. It was a low sound, deep, as he leaned in closer. As you felt his breath fan across your slightly parted lips. You weren’t sure if he was about to kiss you or not. But you weren’t able to find out. Not when a shrill shriek reverberated through the air like some sort of high pitched alarm.

Jimin pulled back slightly at the interruption. Just enough to clench his jaw in annoyance, eyes flashing.

“What the hell was that?” Your voice came out a lot more winded than you’d intended.

The shriek echoed again except more drawn out that time. Which had Jimin’s head craning to stare towards the path that led to the bathhouse. “I gotta go.”

“Go?” You were confused. And a little overwhelmed if you were being honest. Still dazed from how close he’d come to kissing you.

He must have known it too, from the smirk he sent your way. Though his eyes still crinkled in the corners. “Come on, I’ll walk you back.”

The path leading back towards the bridge seemed shorter than it had been earlier. Jimin walked you all the way back to where the red painted wood first started and came to a stop. He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead that had your eyes widening in shock. “Try to stay out of trouble.”

You leaned back to stare up into his face. “I will.”

“Good.” The answer seemed to satisfy him as he shot you a wide grin. Gently ran his knuckles down the side of your face before turning to walk back the way you’d came. You didn’t watch him for long, just enough to see his back disappear behind the garden gate.

And as you began your treck back across the bridge you felt it again. Like eyes were on you even though no one was there. You tried to resist looking back, you really did. But the chills that ran down your spine had you throwing a cautious glance over your shoulder. Though what you saw wasn’t some hideous creature chasing after you.

“Oh.” You whispered.

In the sky right above where the garden hid away from prying eyes was a dragon. Glittering black and white scales stood out amongst the light blue backdrop as it spread its wings wide. Twisted through the air like it was partaking in some kind of beautifully choreographed dance. You shouldn’t have been surprised, but you were anyway. Because you were pretty sure that the man you’d just been talking to morphed into a mythical creature.

“So that’s what he is, huh?” Your unanswered question followed you all the way back into the bathhouse.

And the eyes on your back failed to remove themselves.

Four.

Four times you laid eyes on that shadow creature. The one that you’d caught lurking outside of your window last night. If you were being completely honest, you weren’t really sure why you hadn’t told Jimin about it the moment you saw him on the bridge that morning. He had told you to come to him if anything tried to go after you. Then again, that was the thing. Whatever the hell that thing was hadn’t tried anything, just observed you like some kind of zoo animal.

Perhaps it was just curious? Had never seen a human before? You weren’t sure, though you weren’t about to actively go out of your way to find out.

Which led to the second time you came across it.

“I said to fuck off.” The disgruntled bark of the horrific creature manning the task desk in the middle of the worker lobby ran through your ears for the millionth time.

You weren’t sure what, exactly, it was.

The thing had two sets of eyes, each with a different color iris. But none of them were turned in your direction as it flung red painted wooden chips into the awaiting hands of every worker that approached it’s desk. You were pretty sure that it was male since it had a deep voice with a vocal fry that turned all of it’s syllables into half-hearted growls. That, paired with four arms that ended in sharply pointed claws gave it a frightening appearance.

“Look, just give me a bath token and I’ll be out of your hair.” You begged yet again.

You’d been standing there for a ridiculously long period of time trying to get that thing to give you a token so you could finish your job. It was necessary in order to be able to scrub one of the blood encrusted, enormous tubs clean. You’d tried to clean it on your own after being forced down into it by Jin, who’d been assigned to show you the job you’d be assigned. But you were unable to scrape off the stains.

Though ‘show’ was putting it lightly. He’d more or less just shoved you into the messiest, most difficult bath to clean and told you to figure it the hell out. So you’d had to resort to stopping one of the more harmless looking creatures to help you out. Which led you to where you were now, trying to haggle a stupid token from the asshole manning the desk.

“No.” He didn’t even look at you as he dropped another token carelessly into the hands of a half-visible shadow creature.

“But I need one. Come on.” You grabbed onto the side of the desk with both hands. It was tall, so high up that you had to stand on the tips of your toes in order to see over the damned thing.

“Go tell someone who cares.” He rummaged around in the deep bowl set in front of him to pluck out something for another worker. They were all painted red, but each had a different design on them. What that was supposed to mean you hadn’t a clue.

You just needed one.

“But I--”

“Maybe you didn’t hear me with your puny little human ears.” He leaned down until his four eyes were level with your two. They were deep set into his grey skinned face above high cheekbones and heart shaped lips. The sneer on his face brought out a pair of tiny dimples that looked out of place with the rest of him. “Fuck off. Before I make you.”

Spit splattered across your face and you grimaced in disgust before wiping it away with your sleeve. He leaned back to turn his attention to the reptilian-like monster limping up to his podium. You opened your mouth to ask, yet again, for him to just hand over what you needed so you could get out of there.

But the materialization of a shadow behind his shoulder had your jaw clamping closed in surprise. Because there it was again. The same faceless being that you’d seen last night hovering over the thing obliviously handing out tokens. A white mask with holes in it for a pair of eyes and an opened mouth, though all you could see when you looked was darkness. And it was see through, not like the shadow creatures from town, but more like a jellyfish.

At first you just stared at it with wide eyes because you weren’t sure what to do. Weren’t sure what it would do. And no one else seemed to notice it there. Only you. What did it want?

You didn’t have time to ponder the answer to that question because it moved. Subtly, slowly. Outstretched what appeared to be an arm, but lacked a hand. And you watched as something pulled back it’s--skin?--and out emerged a red painted token.

What?

It bounced the token once, twice, three times before tossing it to you. You scrambled to catch it and not let it hit the ground and alert the monster manning the desk. Just as your fingers closed around it and you looked back up to send a questioning look at the faceless mask, you couldn’t.

Because it was gone.

The third time you ran into it was only a few hours later that night.

You were lost. Stuck wandering around in an endless loop in search of a way out. The bathhouse wasn’t easy to navigate, with similar looking halls and dead ends. How anyone was supposed to be able to find their way around it was a mystery.

You’d been assigned to clean yet another stupid bath and now you were attempting to put away the supplies. Because it was getting late into the morning and you didn’t have any other jobs to do. Namjoon hadn’t been lying when he’d told you that the work was rigorous, seemingly never ending. Though you had half a mind to believe that he was the one solely responsible for all of the shit you’d had to do and the monsters you’d had to deal with.

So there you were, mindlessly attempting to find your way out of the abandoned part of the bathhouse you were in when you rounded another corner. And stopped dead in your tracks, the bucked dangling from your fingertips swinging from the momentum.

There it was. Hovering in the middle of the wideset hall like a ghost. White painted mask soundless as it watched you. At least, you thought it was. Since its presence washed over you like a bad omen.

“What do you want?” You held your ground, but prepared yourself to run at any moment. Just because it’d done you a favor earlier didn’t mean that it was harmless. You were in a literal hell of soulless beings, afterall.

It didn’t answer. Didn’t make a sound. And you weren’t all that surprise.

You did, however, feel your muscles tense as it floated closer with its legless body. Hunched over as it towered over you. Adrenaline pumped through your veins and it took all you had to repress the shudder that threatened to overtake your body.

Slowly, slowly, it reached out with a handless arm. Stretched between the small amount of space between you like an offer. Your fingers clenched around the metal bucket in your grasp.

“I don’t understand.” You murmured, eyes trained on the darkness behind the mask's eye holes.

It moved again. Shook it’s appendage in front of your face and caused you to take a step back. Did it...did it want you to touch it? Yeah, no. You’d have to pass on that one. You didn’t want to accidentally offend it and turn it aggressive, but you weren’t about to willingly do whatever it wanted either.

You shook your head. “No thanks.”

It must not have liked that answer because it floated closer, extended it’s shadow arm closer to your face. Like it was going to grab you or touch you. You didn’t know. But you didn’t want to stick around and find out either. Not with the threatening aura that flooded through the air so thick that it made it difficult to breath. To think straight. To step away.

The sound of a door slamming shut somewhere behind you allowed you to snap out of whatever spell that creature had cast on you. And as you came to and saw your hand reaching out of its own volition, you scrambled backwards. Put distance between you and that thing before it could make you do something you didn’t want to do.

And it seemed angry. The air around it crackled with invisible heat. Enough to send you running off in the opposite direction. Down the twisting halls and past barely lit rooms. All while looking over your shoulder every ten seconds in fear of it being right behind you.

The fourth time and final time came when you weren’t prepared for it.

You were beginning to look forward to the daytime. When it was peaceful and all of the inhabitants of the bathhouse were asleep. To the point where you’d force yourself to stay up in order to watch the sunrise above the vast ocean that spread out beyond the building you were trapped in.

Eyes closed against the morning breeze, you let your legs dangle between the wooden bars of the balcony and over the edge of the bathhouse. The sun was almost up, sky in that sweet spot between the moon setting and daybreak. It gave you time to think, to plot a plan to escape from that place. Because you weren’t safe. Would never be safe, despite what Jimin liked to promise you.

Your constant run-ins with the faceless being was proof of that.

Which made you wonder what exactly it was that Jimin did there. Was he just another pawn to Namjoon? Had he also unwillingly gotten himself caught up in the crossfire of servitude? You weren’t sure. He seemed good, unlike some of the truly hideous spirits that you met. Even despite the oddness that surrounded him like a cloud.

Perhaps he was similar to you. Had been trapped there too. The possibility made you--

Your head snapped to the side just in time to see a flash of black and white. To let out a gasp before the giant mouth coming right for you swallowed you whole. And everything went dark.

The scent of freshly mowed grass invaded your senses. Filled your nose as you slowly regained consciousness.

You weren’t sure where you were or if your eyes were even opened. Because everywhere you looked was nothing but black. And you couldn’t breath, couldn’t suck down a breath without liquid filling your lungs. It didn’t hurt, but it did cause panic to well up.

You thrashed, shot your arms through what felt like water but was too thick. Slowed down your movements and halted momentum. Your mouth opened in a silent scream. There was no one around to hear you, to heed your call.

Maybe you were dead.

Finally freed from the place that held you captive.

But you couldn’t be.

Right?

No, you couldn’t be because you still needed to save your parents. To get them out before a fate worse than death befell them. So you tried harder, thrashed harder. Chose one direction and pushed towards it. Kept going until you felt your hand break through.

The warm outside air hit your skin and you kept going. Until your arm was freed, and then your other one, and then your head pushed through.

You didn’t know where you were, could barely see past the sun beaming straight into your eyes. But as you dangled there limply, wherever there was, all you could see was water. Blue, blue water as you passed over it. Moving slowly, yet quickly at the same time.

Where the hell were you?

Whatever energy you’d managed to summon up in your long winded escape left your body. Forced you to hang there dazed. Barely conscious.

Were you just hearing things, or was that the sound of your name being carried over the wind. And was it just you, or did you start to move faster. The ocean below flying past.

And--

There it was again.

Your name. Or at least, what you thought was your name.

You didn’t get the chance to ponder over it. Not before something hit whatever was carrying you and sent the ocean below hurtling straight towards you.

Water washed over you so cold that it sent a shock through your system, brought you closer to alertness. But you still couldn’t move, bogged down by whatever it was that held you within its grasp as you were sent drifting down to the bottom.

Until you weren’t.

You weren’t sure when it’d happened, but your limbs were free. Floating around you. And you opened your eyes in an attempt to figure out what the hell was going on. Your thoughts were murky, brain struggling to focus on what was playing out in front of you. You weren’t sure what to make of the bright flash of blue lighting up the darkness underwater.

Nor the high-pitched screams that hit your ears at such a frequency that you were worried you’d go deaf. When another bright, eye-searing light flare hit your eyes, you slammed them shut. Couldn’t bear to look directly at it.

And you weren’t sure how long you floated there, lungs screaming for air and consciousness wavering in-and-out.

One moment you were submerged, unable to breathe. And the next you were laid out on your side and coughing up water.

“There you go.”

You didn’t have time to process where that voice was coming from before another wave of coughing forced the water from your lungs. Had you bent over the arm hoisting you up as you threw it up. Had a hard time differentiating between where you were and what was going on. You could feel water covering the lower half of your body. It wasn’t deep now, however. Just shallow, but still enough to leave you wet.

“Get it all out.” A hand hit against the spot between your shoulder blades and forced out another round of throwing up. You felt like you were drowning all over again, unable to take a breath as liquid coated the back of your tongue.

You whimpered.

“I got you.” The words were murmured into the shell of your ear reassuringly. And it took an embarrassingly long amount of time for you to connect the dots of who it was.

“Jimin?” Your voice was raspy. Barely there. And scratched your throat raw.

“I’m here.” His hand rubbed at your back.

You had to pause before answering in order to fill your lungs with air.

“What’s going on?” The world blurred around you as Jimin slowly moved to flip you onto your back. You stared up at him, traced a droplet of water as it fell from his soaked hair and down his cheek.

His jaw clenched and brown eyes flashed in anger at your question. Jimin nodded his head towards something in the distance that had you craning your neck to try and see. “It ate you.”

One of his hands had come up to support your neck when you finally saw it. There in the distance. Floating on top of the water.

A white mask.

And a mass of sludge so dark that it coated the water in a layer of blackness spread out beneath it.

You looked down, took in the platform you were spread out on. Train tracks. If you squinted you’d just be able to make out the bathhouse in the distance.

Where the hell were you?

Where had that thing been taking you?

You swallowed hard, voice shaky. “Ate me?”

Jimin turned his gaze back to you and softened his hardened expression at the terror that shone in your eyes. Leaned down to press his forehead to yours. “It’s gone now. No need to be frightened.”

“Did you--” You spared a quick glance back over at the lifeless mask. “Kill it?”

He nodded slowly, breath fanning across your chilled skin.

“Why?”

Jimin pulled back just enough to stare at you in bewilderment. “I told you that I’d protect you, didn’t I?”

When your lips parted in surprise at his words, he smiled. A warm one. One that had you acting before you could fully think it through. Slamming your mouth against his. Maybe it was the adrenaline that was lingering in your system, or perhaps it was something else. You weren’t sure.

What you did know, however, was that Jimin’s lips were soft. Just as much as they looked to be. And you weren’t sure what to do because you’d never kissed anyone before. Had no idea how he’d respond until his other hand came up to caress your cheek. Kissed you back. You weren’t sure if you were doing it correctly, since you had no experience.

And never would you have thought your first kiss would be from an almost-stranger. But he’d just saved your life. And he was beautiful to look at. You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t attracted to him. Hadn’t been overwhelmed by his appearance since you’d first laid eyes on him. Especially not when you felt the tip of his tongue swipe across your bottom lip questioningly. Nor when you parted your mouth slightly and let out a gasp when his tongue met yours.

The sound you made must have ignited something within him, because Jimin’s kiss turned eager, needy almost. He tasted sweet as he snagged your bottom lip between his teeth. Licked the slight sting away as your fingers tangled themselves into the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Kissed him back just as desperately.

Jimin’s mouth caught yours in one last searing kiss before he pulled away. “Let’s get you home, hm?”

“Okay.” You mumbled. Your limbs felt like jelly as he helped you to sit up and you watched as he stood up. Walked a few paces away. “Where are you going?”

Jimin just threw a wink over his shoulder, eyes shining with happiness. “Get on.”

“Get on..?”

Your question went unanswered. Not because he didn’t want to give you a response, but because he changed. Morphed into a dragon right before your very eyes. Maybe if you were more awake you would have been able to take in the finer details. Like how the air around him seemed to simmer with heat. Or how the water beneath him shifted until it was drawing itself towards him. How the droplets of liquid surrounded him like glitter in the rising sun.

A gasp escaped your lips when he turned, now on four legs instead of two. And you met his umber eyes. He wasn’t human anymore, not that he really had been in the first place, but a dragon now. Beautiful. Magical.

You scrambled to your feet, water sloshing beneath you, and made you way over to him. Let your hand run over the black and white scales that felt smooth to the touch. You’d seen him from far away in that form, but not this close up. To the point where you could smell the scent that floated off him in waves.

Jimin exhaled and jerked his head in a silent gesture to get on. You didn’t hesitate to throw your leg over his slim back. Even though he was a dragon, he still held the same slim frame as his human form. And you’d barely adjusted to sitting atop him when he moved. Claws scraping across the train tracks until he’d gained enough momentum for his wings to carry the two of you through the air.

A shriek of excitement tore from your throat as vertigo hit you full force. Without anything to hold onto, you reached up to grab onto the two horns that protruded from his head before you could fall. In order to feel more at ease with flying through the air at such a speed without restraint.

Though you hadn’t been prepared for what would happen when you did. Because the moment your hands wrapped around his horns, you no longer saw the water stretching out before you. You were transported to a scene that was familiar. That resurfaced somewhere deep within your memories.

The beach. No. Not the beach.

The ocean.

Wide and vast, its waves kissed the shore. Enticed your five-year-old self to step closer. To drip your feet into its cold water. To be swept up by a wave taller than you stood. Dragged along, kicking and screaming beneath the surface, until you were so far from the shore that you didn’t know how to get back.

But you weren’t afraid. Not when the water tickled the sides of your cheek or kept you afloat.

Not even when your parent’s panicked voices echoed across the large expanse. Or when they’d swam out to drag you back ashore. Hugged you close and buckled you into the back of the car with promises to never come back.

You weren’t afraid.

So you’d returned. Again and again. Waded through the water like you belonged there. And it’d greeted you each time you came back. Brushed against your skin like it’d missed you.

You were thrown back into the present time so suddenly that you gasped. Squeezed your hands tighter around the ringed horns beneath your palms. The feeling that overcame you was familiar. Intermingled with the scent of the being beneath you. Was that..? Why did you…?

“Jimin.” You breathed, leaning forward to speak into his ear in fear of your voice being lost. “Are you...a spirit of the ocean? Is that what you are?”

You paused and took a deep breath. Met one of his eyes with both of yours. God, you really hoped you didn’t sound as stupid as you thought. “From when I was little?”

He didn’t respond verbally. Not that you thought he could have. Just grumbled deep in his throat in a way that sounded a lot like confirmation. And then he ripped his attention from you to focus on the bathhouse that appeared out of the distance.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t still afraid. Weren’t on edge about the fact that you weren’t safe in that bathhouse. Even though Jimin had saved you, that didn’t mean that he’d be around the next time that something went wrong. That you were thrown into danger and your life was at stake.

Even as you lay there in your room, wrapped up in his arms. He’d insisted on following you back and staying with you to keep you safe. And you hadn’t had the will to deny him. Not after what had happened less than an hour ago.

However, ever since you’d kissed him, Jimin started acting differently. More clingy. Like he was afraid that if he let you out of his sight, you’d disappear. So you’d let him accompany you back to your room. And when he insisted on staying, well, you didn’t say no. Had let him tuck your weary body into bed and slide in next to you.

But you couldn’t sleep. Not with the thoughts that whizzed through your head. Because you weren’t safe. And you couldn’t get too comfortable there. Couldn’t leave your parents to suffer through the rest of their days as pigs.

Your fingers dug into Jimin’s back.

“I need to get out of here, Jimin.” You whispered shakily against the warmth of his chest. “You have to get me out of here. Before I die here.”

“You’re safe.” Jimin mumbled sleepily into the top of your head, lips pressed against your forehead. His slender fingers ran through your hair and massaged gently at your scalp. “I won’t let anything take you from me. I promise.”

You stiffened the moment that his words hit the shell of your ear. Tried to hide the expression that flitted across your face from where you pressed into the crevice of his neck. What he said didn’t sit well with you, weighed down your stomach with slowly dawning dread. “What do you mean, you won’t let anything take me from you?”

Jimin hummed and pulled you closer, rested his chin atop your head. “That spirit was trying to take you away from here. Away from me.”

Your heartbeat thudded in your ears. “Take me where, Jimin?”

He must have mistaken the shake in your voice for fear at being kidnapped again because he softened his voice. “Those train tracks? That spirit was taking you to the train. Was trying to take you away from the bathhouse, somewhere beyond my reach. But it’s okay, baby. You don’t need to be afraid, not when you have me.”

Your nails dug deeper into his skin but he didn’t seem to notice. If he was saying what you thought he was saying...then that meant…

“Nothing will take you from me.” Jimin’s statement was punctuated by the soft kiss he placed upon your cheek.

...that the no-face spirit had been trying to help you escape. To get you out of there.

And Jimin killed it.

Suddenly, the protective arms he had around you felt like a vice. Keeping you there. You weren’t safe. Not in that bathhouse. Not with those monsters. Not with Jimin.

How had you been so utterly stupid? To think that you could have trusted him? Had he even wanted to help you escape at all, or had it all been some kind of front, a lie? You didn’t know. But you sure as hell weren’t going to stick around to find out.

So you waited until he fell asleep. Until his breath evened out and his arms around you became slack. You were careful as you slipped away from his warmth and out of bed, bare feet hitting the cold floor silently. The sunlight peeking in through your window was reassuring, helped to settle your nerves just a little at the knowledge that all of the bathhouse inhabitants would be asleep.

You cracked open the door silently and threw a quick glance over your shoulder to make sure that Jimin was still asleep. And then you slipped out into the hall and closed the door behind you.

The lights were off as you crept down the hall, but thankfully the light streaming in through the windows placed periodically throughout the place was enough to see by. Your heart hammered in your chest in fear of being caught. In fear of what would happen if you were.

You maneuvered your way out of the main door and across the bridge without running into a single soul. The second that your bare feet dug into the dirt on the opposite side of the bridge, you too off in a sprint. Through the gated garden and past the hedges that towered over you mockingly.

Luckily, the path was easy to navigate even without your prior knowledge of where you were going. And you took a moment to silently thank Jimin for showing you the way as you hit the top of the hill. Slipped on your way down the steep slope and catapulted your way towards the red roofed barns. You entered the first one you came across, figuring that you’d work your way through that one and then the other two if it proved frivolous.

Only to stop dead in your tracks, feet kicking up dirt as you came to an immediate halt.

It was empty.

The pigs that used to reside behind the rusted, metal enclosed bars were gone. Though the smell of them still lingered in the air. Assaulted your nose and had you throwing a hand over your mouth. Where the hell had they gone?

You turned on your heel, rushing back out of the barn and through the opened doorway of the second one.

Empty.

Without stopping to let the information settle, you whirled around. Ran to the last barn sitting right on the edge. Didn’t stop until you were standing in the middle of it with dirt sticking to your feet and stomach dropping to the floor. Stumbled over to grip onto one of the metal bars in order to hold yourself up.

Because that one was empty too.

All of the pigs were gone. Gonegonegone.

“You’re a little late.”

A scream tore from your throat and you spun around so fast that the world blurred for a moment. Held a hand to your chest in an attempt to slow your rapid heartbeat. It wasn’t Jimin like you’d thought it was. Though you weren’t sure if what stood in front of you was any better. Safer. Less dangerous.

“Dontcha think?” The man--beast--tilted his head to the side, blond hair falling into his dark hooded eyes. He would have been handsome, what with his cupid-bow shaped lips and perfectly symmetrical face. Maybe could have even been a model back in your world. If it weren’t for the fact that he had goat legs instead of regular ones.

Hooves in place of feet.

“Who the hell are you? Do you work here?” You backed up against the metal bars behind you, gripped them until your knuckles turned white.

He simply stared at you. Almost in curiosity, but not quite. “So you’re her, huh?”

You ignored his question just like he ignored yours. “Where are all of the pigs? Who are you?”

A sound left his lips. Deep and dragging. And it took you a moment to realize that he was laughing. “Gone.”

You inhaled shakily. “Gone where?”

He stopped laughing, but still grinned over at you with a box shaped smile. “Didn’t you realize, human?”

“Realize what?” Jaw clenched, you struggled to breathe around the fear that spiked in your throat.

He tilted his head yet again and regarded you with those dark eyes of his. Sparking with something as he took his time answering you. Drew out the dread pooling in your stomach.

“What was served for dinner last night.”

The breath in your lungs froze. Tears sprang to your eyes. Alarm flooded through your veins like white hot wildefire, engulfing everything in its way. He couldn’t...he couldn’t mean.., “No.”

He turned away from you then, broke eye contact to sift through some of the farming tools hanging from the wall behind him. Spoke the words that crushed your world so nonchalantly. “Everyone loves a nice, juicy pig. So delicious.”

No. They...

They couldn’t have...right?

The world stopped. Came crashing to a halt as it dawned on you.

They ate...they ate your parents?

You didn’t even notice the tears falling from your face, nor the sob that tore from your throat. You had to get out of there. You had to get out.

The inside of the barn passed by in a blurred haze and your feet carried you back up the hill without you registering it. You didn’t have time to waste, to stop and grieve. Because you didn’t know how much time you had left before you joined them. Became a feast to the monsters that resided beyond the bridge.

You struggled to breath as you ran, sprinted through the winding town and past the empty shops. The sun beating upon your back spurred you on as you tore through the streets. Kicked up dust behind you. Made it past the food stand where you’d last seen your parents alive and human. Beyond the corner of the last bend in the road.

Ran face first into something so hard that it sent you careening backwards, hitting the dirt so roughly that it swept the air from your lungs. You could do nothing but lay there with your face tilted to the sky and coughs wrenching from your chest, dazed. Attempting to blink the stars out of your vision.

“There you are.”

You squinted as a shadow fell across your face. Stared up at the sweet smile stretched across Jimin’s pink lips. He leaned over you, delicate earrings dangling from his ears and arms folded behind his back. Like he hadn’t just knocked you down into the dirt like you were a bug beneath his feet.

“I was wondering where you’d gone off to.” Umber eyes crinkled in the corners. But he didn’t move to help you up, just watched as you struggled to get to your feet, hands scraping the ground for purchase. “Where were you going?”

“I--” You stammered, heart caught in your throat. You didn’t know how much you could trust him. Didn’t know if he was out to get you too. “I was just…”

Jimin tilted his head to the side in curiosity at your answer. He waited for you to continue with the sentence that struggled to form on your tongue. “You were just…?”

He wasn’t going to let you go without an explanation. You could see it in the way he stood in the middle of the street like a gatekeeper. Could see it in the way that emotion flickered behind his eyes too quickly for you to make out. Could tell from the calm way he didn’t move an inch.

“Jimin.” You could hear the pleading edge to your tone and you swallowed. He’d said he wanted to keep you safe...right? Maybe he’d let you go when he found out what happened. “I have to get out of here. They killed my parents and I’m probably next. I need to leave.”

“Dove.” Jimin cleared the space between you, reached out to palm the sides of your face. Scrunched his brow concern. “I promised that I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

As your eyes met his, you felt hope well within your chest. Even as you pushed it down, forced the desperate expression from your face. “So you’ll help me get out of here?”

He smiled softly and swiped a thumb across your quivering bottom lip. “You can’t leave. Because then I wouldn’t be able to protect you.”

Any hope you may have had left you at his words. “What? Jimin, they’re going to kill me!”

“Sen, n--”

“That’s not my name.” You knew it wasn’t. Could feel it with every essence of your being. Because that wasn’t your name. It wasn’t. And you didn’t know why he kept calling you that.

With a click of his tongue, Jimin smoothed a finger over the crease between your eyebrows. “No? Then what is it then, hm?”

You blinked. Parted your lips as you attempted to think back. To remember what it was that you’d been called before you entered that place. And where it’d once been so easily accessible, sat just on the tip of your tongue, now hid somewhere that you couldn’t find. Why couldn’t you remember?

“I--It’s.” Your chest was heaving now as panic overrode your senses. Wide eyes met his amused gaze. “Why can’t I…”

Jimin smiled, tutted at you like you were a child. “Remember? Because your name belongs to me.”

What?

“No.” Shaking your head, you reached up in an attempt to pull his hands from your face. But he didn’t budge, just watched on in growing mirth as if you were a particularly entertaining toy. You knew his words weren’t true. They couldn’t be. Because you remembered that part at least. “Namjoon took it. When I signed the contract. Not you.”

Jimin slid one of his hands down to caress the side of your neck despite the half-moons you were digging into his skin with your nails. “And who do you think is in charge of Namjoon, dove?”

No. No. No. He had to be lying. He had to.

He raised his eyebrows. Tilted his head to the side with that eye-crinkling smile. “I can see that you’re starting to understand.”

“I don’t.” You grunted, digging your nails deeper into the flesh at his wrists. But he didn’t even flinch.

“Then let me spell it out for you. You always have been a little slow on the uptake. But that’s okay.” Jimin twirled a loose strand of your hair around his index finger. “I’m in charge of this place. Therefore, when you signed that contract, you didn’t gift your name to Namjoon. You gave it to me. It’s mine, and so are you.”

You clenched your jaw at his words, glared at the hand that brushed the side of your cheek like you were some kind of long lost lover. “Fine then. Keep my name, I don’t need it.”

Jimin sighed, shook his head like he was exasperated with you.

“Do you know why names are so important, Sen?” He didn’t wait for you to answer before he continued. “Because they’re tied with our identities. Without them, you’ll forget who you are, be trapped here. And you already have, haven’t you? Forgotten.”

Alarm overtook you, flooded through you. Weighed down your breath with fear. As you tried to remember who you’d been before you’d entered that place. All you knew was that you’d had to save your parents. To get both them and yourself out of there. But when you thought back, really tried, you couldn’t recollect anything past your first day there.

Where had you come from?

Why were you there in the first place?

You looked up at the man who stole your identity, your memories. Everything. With quivering lips and tear filled eyes. “Why would you do this?”

“Dove.” His thumbs caught the tears that spilled onto your cheeks, sadness morphing his expression. “Because I love you. And I want to be with you forever. That’s why I brought you here.”

Jimin pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, warm breath fanning across your skin. “And now we can be together forever, just like we’re meant to be.”

He pulled back to smile down at you. So softly that you almost believed the words that came from his mouth. Weaved their way inside your mind like a worm. And it was in that moment that you began to understand Jimin. With his honey hued hair and umber eyes. Brightly colored. Flashy. Much like a poisonous snake before it struck.

“Aren’t you happy, dove?” He rested his forehead against yours and nudged his nose against your own. “I promised I’d keep you safe and I will.”

Your eyes slammed shut. Tears leaked from your water-logged lashes. Because you were stuck. Trapped. With a monster who stole your identity.

How were you supposed to escape when you didn’t even know why you were there in the first place?

“I love you.” He murmured across your lips.

But.

Who were you?

Tagged: @laishaavxo @poohsaidhi @mykingdomismyheaven @yoongs-jeontae @creepysweet @futuristicpinklemur @hopekookiesandwich @pjmlylyn @parkchimchimmie @xxkitsurikaxx @siphite @knjkitten @mochi-rose @ohmygirlloona @mochimochipie @btsarmysvtcarat @martinandmartin @bitchynightmarepost @haruyai @jupiterspoems @mxrvellouspidey @creepysweet

#bts #bts fic #yandere bts #bangtanarmynet #jimin #jimin fic #yandere jimin #jimin smut #namjoon #seokjin #yoongi #taehyung #jungkook #hoseok

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bates--boy · 4 years ago

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Although the Baby-Sitters Club had been available in both the UK and Sweden, Peter never read the entire series once Martin started dipping into ham-fisted mystery (his opinion back then was that mysteries should have been left to the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew). Still, he will admit that he drew a bit of inspiration from the spunky and young entrepreneurs. His bag hung heavy and bulky on his shoulder from the board games, children’s books from the library, some hair products in travel-sized bottles and jars so he wouldn’t come away from Pakiza’s affinity for hair with split ends, and his tablet in case he had enough free time to squeeze in some writing. Inside was also a travel-sized first aid kit in case Naseem and Ashira didn’t have their own for their townhouse, and a cheat sheet from his foster care textbooks. On his phone, Peter had saved a bunch of emergency numbers, from Sweden’s poison control center to the missing children center to animal control.

Some would say that it was overkill for what will be a two-hour, three at most, babysitting service for a four-year-old girl who really likes hair and an almost six-month-old infant that will be mostly napping, but if his own experiences and memories as the child being babysat told him anything, it was that Peter should prepare for anything.

Anything.

Being prepared also helped his confidence, as the days leading up to now had been filled with Peter thinking Oh, my god, what was I thinking? I should’ve kept my mouth shut, what was I thinking? These kids are going to get hurt, what was I thinking?!

But he arrived at their door, took a deep breath, and rang the bell.

Naseem opened and snatched Peter into his arms, releasing a relieved and grateful sigh as he patted Peter’s back. “Oh, thank god, you came,” Naseem said. He released Peter from his hug, just in time for Pakiza to charge at Peter and for Peter to drop his bag and sweep her into his arms. As Pakiza laid her head on one of Peter’s shoulders, Naseem placed his hand on Peter’s upper back to guide him inside. “Okay, you know where the rooms are, so I’ll just tell you where everything you need is.”

Peter was half paying attention to Naseem’s tour of the place, but he couldn’t help but notice how well Naseem was dressed for today. The man never dressed poorly, this Peter knew, but today it had a particular sense of going all-out. Even in this casual outfit (which Peter figured was for the commercial’s role) Naseem had moisturized his locs to reduce fuzz and tied them into a low ponytail; he had shaved the edges of... what did Naseem and his family call it? New growth? To give his hair a more refined and sharp look. He even seemed to have gone through any stubble on his shaved jaw and upper lip with a pair of tweezers.

And for someone that was the chillest person Peter has ever met, Naseem buzzed and zipped with an endless energy that rivaled his daughter’s. The man even held his folder of headshots and the commercial script as if he feared some unnatural wind sweeping into the home and carrying it all away.

Peter followed Naseem back to the door, still holding Pakiza -- the child waiting with a bored silence for her father to run through his list -- and nodding along.

“...and Hasan is taking a nap. He should be up for around lunch, so you can feed him and Pakiza at the same time. Just heat the milk up in boiling water for a few minutes. You got all of that?”

Peter nodded and saluted Naseem. “Got it, sir!”

“Cool.” Naseem shouldered his messenger bag and slipped the folder inside. “Listen, if you’re free tomorrow, how about I buy you lunch for doing this for us? We still need to talk about our first music video, anyways.”

Peter bobbed his unoccupied shoulder. “Sure! Oh! I want Indian food!”

“Indian food, got it! Okay, wish me good luck, y’all!” He leaned in to give Pakiza a kiss and gave Peter another, one-armed hug. “Thanks again.”

“No problem!” Peter hugged him back and readjusted Pakiza in his arm as Naseem left.

“Good luck, Daddy!” Pakiza called after her departing father.

Peter closed the door and smiled at Pakiza. “So, what would you like to do?”

Pakiza gasped, and her response was exactly what Peter expected. “Can I do your hair?”

#The MizFists #life thus far ( story )#droid noodles ( writing )#probably gonna split this babysitting story into two parts because #writing children is especially tough for me #and i'm still figuring out how Peter would be around children for longer than brief visits #essentially how he is as a caretaker

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theroomofreq · 5 years ago

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Personality Before Punctuality: Chapter 2

James Potter plays in a band but spends his mornings in the bakery chatting up Lily Evans. Lily spends her week days selling pastries, but on weekends she goes to see James play guitar.

The second part to my meet cute muggle au!

Read on AO3

Lily flung open the door to The Hallows, her bag knocked on the door frame as her quick pace carried her into the bakery. 9:07, Okay not terribly late, she could work with that. Her morning walk had little to no distractions and after yesterday she figured she had better be more timely than usual. Lily blew her bangs out of her face as she looked up to find one of the primary bakers, Simon, engaged with a customer.

Yikes, Simon hated customers. Lily increased her pace as she made her way around the counter, her bag dropping un-ceremonially to the floor. She chanced an apologetic look at Simon before turning to the customer in front of her.

“Evans, have you tried this treacle tart?!”

James Potter had a mouthful of tart and a goofy grin that came with his question.

Lily’s eyes roamed down his figure wondering how she had missed him. The first detail to notice was his hat, Potter had a large black bucket hat that fit snuggly on his head, the strap and buckle pulled tightly across his sharp jaw line. Apparently black was his theme today, as his long-sleeved shirt and trousers match his hat color.

“Of course, Potter” Lily couldn’t hold back her grin as he shoveled another bite into his mouth “This week is especially good because Simon here made it. He always makes the best pastry crust” Lily placed a hand on Simon’s shoulder and hoped her honest compliment would get her out of being late this morning.

“Flattery will not excuse the tardiness Lily, but it doesn’t stop you from being my favorite” Simon gave her a small smile, which Lily counted as a win. “Wonderful to meet you James”

“Likewise” Potter replied as Simon walked back into the kitchen.

Potter leaned up against the display case crossing his arms as he smirked down toward Lily. “I’m glad I caught you again.”

“At the bakery where I work? Yes, you’re very lucky to find me here.” She couldn’t hold back the sarcasm that dripped out of her mouth.

The way James rolled his eyes had an affectionate feel, “Oh come on, you know what I mean Evans. I didn’t know your schedule at all, this was really all I had.”

“So, what was your plan?” Lily said, her eyebrows quirked up, “Show up here every morning until I finally came in to work?”

James seemed to startle as he stood up from his relaxed position, his eyes went downcast as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well yeah, actually that was the idea…” His eyes turned up at Lily with a bashful look.

The way his eyes locked on her resulted in Lily biting down on her lip as her cheeks flushed. Before she could reply the door chimed as another customer walked into the shop. James began to back away from the register and Lily, as his eyes wandered around the bakery.

“The table to your left has the best chairs” Lily mentioned, hoping that her invitation to stay would come across.

Potter’s eyes lit up as he made his way to where Lily suggested, walking backward toward the table with a lazy gate that had Lily captivated the whole time. Perhaps it was the way he rubbed his hands together or how held her gaze the entire time, regardless Lily loved what an all-black look did for James Potter.

Regrettably, Lily tore her eyes away from him and back to the latest customer to enter The Hallows.

----

As a Wednesday morning, the bakery wasn’t terribly busy, but there was a steady stream of people who came in to buy pastries. She knew most everyone that came in, as she had a good grasp on who the regulars were and what they would buy. Often, she found herself sending glances toward James, who sat alone at his table writing away in a notebook he had pulled from his back pocket.

She was grateful he had chosen to sit with his back to the front door, he was less likely to be noticed this way, especially because his stag tattoo was facing the wall not the open shop. Well that, and the obvious fact that she had a brilliant view of him as he focused on his writing, rolled up the sleeves on his shirt, or even shot glances at Lily.

There was something about James Potter that made her believe that he did everything at 100%. Maybe it was the way his eyes lit up as he scrawled across the page, never stopping for a moment as rotated his book to add notes or circle a word. It could’ve been the way that she caught him looking at her, his deep eyes latching on to her movements as she did her job. Whenever she caught him staring (which was very often) he didn’t ever look away, his smile just got brighter as he winked or waved in her direction. It might’ve even been the way he kept coming up and buying more sweets.

Yes, it was definitely the sweets. He seemed hell bent on trying every item available at the bakery. The fifth time he sauntered up to the register Lily rolled her eyes, “You’re going to make yourself sick Potter”

“Probably, but I just can’t help myself around sweet things.” James said as he quite obviously looked Lily up and down with a smirk. “Meaning…”

“Potter. I know” Lily interrupted. “I know what you mean. You’ve been gawking at me for hours; you are anything but subtle.”

“You’re one to talk red” James said, propping his elbow up on the counter, “I’ve caught you sending eyes my way many a time as well.” He rested his chin on his hand while winking at Lily.

“Right. I’m fit, you’re fit. Good to know we are on the same page here. Now get back to your table, my break is in an hour.”

“Anything for you love.”

---

“Do you work at all the rest of the week?” James asked her between bites of bread.

“Tomorrow evening and Sunday” Lily told him.

She ripped off another chunk of bread from the loaf they were sharing. Lily decided to spend her break sitting with James as he reviewed his favorite sweets and asked her about her schedule.

“Brill, I uh, wanted to ask if you would come to my show on Friday night” The smile he tacked on at the end was hopeful.

“I didn’t know you had a show this week? I haven’t heard anything about it- where are you playing?”

“Oh well, yes, it is a bit of a secret. Sirius’ idea really” He gestured with his hands in an attempt to explain. “Our lead singer, my best mate he’s got a real flair for the dramatic that one. He convinced us to play at one of the places that first gave us a shot. Something about taking care of the little guys and standing up to the man. We are all pretty passionate about it now”

“Yeah, alright I’d love to.”

“Yeah, okay great actually, that’s excellent!” James gave her a megawatt grin. He looked down toward his notebook again and began rapidly flipping through the pages. Finally, he stopped on a page and ripped it out before passing it across the table towards Lily.

The note seemed distinctly James and Lily wasn’t really sure what that meant, she didn’t really even know this man all that well, but the page felt like James Potter. In the middle of the page was a hand drawn logo of a bar, The Hogs Head, with a large arrow that pointed to the time he would be playing. The time was circled multiple times with a small note that said, “Be punctual Evans”.

Across the top of the page was her name, written in a cursive script that was far prettier than she had ever penned her own name in. Lily’s eyes lingered a long time around her name and the drawing right beside it. James had drawn a small portrait of Lily laughing, her nose was scrunched close to her eyes which seemed brighter than usual. It was incredible what he had drawn of her with a simple black marker, the lines on her face and her freckles were expertly drawn, Lily’s breath caught as she looked up at James. He was staring intensely at her through his dark eye lashes, slowly his lips pulled to the side in a very signature smirk that Lily simply couldn’t handle looking at for too long.

Lily shook her head trying to throw out that smirk, she knew she was in deep trouble when she had to pinch her leg before responding to James, “I didn’t know you were such an artist.”

“Nah, ‘m not. The gorgeous things in life end up drawing themselves” Potter spent a long time searching her flushed face before continuing, “I actually have to run to sound checks now, but trust me, I can’t wait to see you Friday.”

He reached across the table and gave her hand a tight squeeze before standing and walking out the door. Lily watched him go wondering how the way he had touched her so briefly had turned her legs to jelly.

----

“Damn Lils, that Potter bloke won’t even know what a guitar is much less be able to play one once he sees you.”

Lily flashed a smile into the mirror towards her best friend, “You don’t think it’s too much do you?”

“Absolutely not, we didn’t spend 2 hours trying on outfits for you to start second guessing how hot you are” Marlene let out a low whistle to prove her point.

Lily swatted at her flatmate, it did not take her that long to get ready- but even if it did, it was worth it. She’d decided to wear favorite black crop top which rested just above the smallest sliver of skin before her skirt pulled tightly across her figure hitting just about mid-thigh. Her favorite sheer tights matched her black Doc Martens perfectly and to top it all off she’d left her hair loose, Lily guessed Marlene was right, she was pretty damn hot.

Lily looked in the mirror one last time, she was ready to blow James Potter away.

---

Marlene pushed open the doors to the small venue, the outside made it look small, but it was actually pretty large on the inside. The lights were dimmed, and the crowds filled the room with a low roar, the place had an air of grunge to it. Lily glanced down at her watch, she and Marlene had showed up at the exact time Potter had written down for her, but there was no one on the small make-shift stage.

“Looks like that Potter bloke has you pegged already,” Marlene laughed as she pointed to a sign to the left of the stage.

“The Marauders” the messy scrawl on the sign read, “Tonight at 8”

It was 7:30. Potter must’ve given her an earlier time to make sure she wouldn’t be late. Lily rolled her eyes at her best friend, if James really knew her, he would know she wouldn’t dare to be late to see him.

When The Marauders walked on stage Lily’s eyes locked on James, she felt a twinge of annoyance as he sauntered out waving at the crowd. It wasn’t entirely fair for someone to be that good looking, his white long sleeve contrasted perfectly with his black bottoms and shoes. As he stepped up to his mic he pushed up the sleeve on his right arm before resting it across the strings of his guitar.

Honestly, she couldn’t bring herself to look at the rest of the band, the guitarist was just too mesmerizing. Was she obsessed with him? Probably. Was her heart rate going through the roof for reasons other than seeing a really good band? Definitely. Was she going to spend the rest of her night shamelessly staring at James Potter? Absolutely.

As Lily came to terms with how quickly this man had taken over her thoughts the past few days, James turned around to walk to the back of the stage. The sandy-haired drummer was talking animatedly with the shaggy haired singer, for some reason Lily couldn’t quite remember their names. Potter threw his arm over the singer taking a moment to nod at the flustered drummer before pulling away a now red-faced front man. Potter gave his friend a final shove toward the forward microphone and the set list began.

There’s something about seeing a band play live that is exciting, the energy from the crowd is thrilling, the band going all out while playing, and the way your emotions come in waves. But, seeing a band that you love? Exhilarating. The long lead up before the song begins, singing along to your favorite song, the vibe of hearing a chorus live for the first time, all of it is magic.

Lily was convinced that none of these feelings held a candle to seeing James Potter play. His entire body thrummed with the music, it wasn’t just his foot keeping pace, but his whole body moving as he played. The guitarist was emotionally involved in every note he played, the way his eyes followed his fingers, and how he strummed the chords perfectly in time. The smirk on his face was absolutely startling when he came in with a powerful riff or ran through a difficult set of chords. Lily decided that watching James perform was enthralling.

As The Marauders lead singer said their goodbyes Lily finally remembered his name, Sirius Black, it wasn’t that hard to remember now that she wasn’t distracted by Potter’s arse. The moment Sirius waved goodnight, Potter placed his guitar on his stand and jumped off the front of the stage.

Lily watched him weave through the crowd as he was stopped by many individuals for a photo or signature. Her attention was pulled from Potter as Marlene placed a hand on her arm.

“Lils, are you okay if I head out now?” Marlene asked the question timidly, “I promised Dorcas I would stop by after the show.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I didn’t know you were seeing her again?” Lily was surprised her friend had kept the news from her, she was usually so open about her latest relationships

“It’s new and I don’t know,” Marlene shrugged, “I didn’t want to jinx it or anything.”

Lily shook her head at her outgoing friend now turned shy at the thought of Dorcas. “Get going then, I’m sure she is waiting for you.”

“Thanks Lils,” Marlene said as she pulled the redhead in for a hug, “Maybe we will both get a bit lucky tonight.”

Ahh, there was her friend. Marlene practically ran out the front doors toward her new girlfriend. Lily turned her eyes back to the crowd searching for Potter, before she could locate him someone stepped right in front of her path blocking her view.

“You’ve created a lot of grief for me Evans.” Sirius Black stood cooly in front of Lily, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked evenly at her.

“And what would that be Black?” Lily crossed her arms challenging whatever Black was about to go on about.

“You’ve driven this fool out of his mind the last few days” Black jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward Potter who walked up next to him. “All I’ve heard the last bit is all about Lily Evans, how witty and gorgeous you are. It is enough to turn me completely mental.” Sirius had a smirk on his face, but Potter looked warily at his friend.

“I’d be happy to foot the bill for any harm my wit and or beauty has caused you.”

Potter’s jaw dropped at Lily's quip while Sirius threw his arm around his mate and cackled. “I can see why you’ve been tracing her name every night” Sirius said as he used his other hand to pat James’ chest, “See you at home mate.”

Sirius untangled himself from a now flustered James and turned to Lily, “Evans, it’s been more of a pleasure than you realize.” With a final wink sent to Lily, Sirius walked off into the crowd.

“Tracing my name?” Lily posed the question while looking toward his left arm, the sleeve still flush with his wrist, whereas the other sleeve was racked up to his elbow.

“Well, err,” the flush across his face deepened as James pushed up the sleeve to reveal the arm that Lily had signed a number of days ago. The writing was dark and thick, as if she had written it moments ago.

“I just really liked the mark you left on me, and I didn’t want to lose it. So I, err, I’ve been tracing it over every night, so it stays with me.” He looked up at her with hopeful eyes.

“Who knew you were such a softie Potter?”

“Only around you Evans.” He took a step forward and grabbed her hand, “Thank you for coming, did you have a good time?”

“It was incredible! You were incredible!” Lily felt her face light up as she talked about the concert, “That last song was unreal, I loved where you came in at the end!”

“Thanks, I wrote the song but it was Remus who came up with that section, he’s the musical genius of the four of us.”

Potter began leading her towards the exit as he continued on about the song. He held tight to her hand as he walked her out the front doors, his other hand gesturing wildly as he explained the underlying tones of Pete’s keyboard and how it meshed with his chords.

He stopped just outside of the bar before standing directly in front of her, his smile was reaching across his entire face as he took her in. “Evans you look stunning tonight.” His eyes roamed down her legs before returning to her freckled face.

“Almost as good as my Hallows apron right?” Lily’s voice came out a bit breathier than usual.

“Just about”

James reached out toward her, allowing the crimson locks to run through his fingers as he looked intently at her. Lily struggled to swallow as his eyes ran across her face, his hand tucked her hair behind her shoulder before running down her arm. Shivers ran after his hand until he secured it against her own, pulling her a step closer to his body.

“Listen, Evans, The boys and I always used to go back to the flat and just hang around after we played here. In the spirit of nostalgia we’re going to be doing it again, and I was hoping you’d come along tonight?” The hopeful smirk was back on his face as he looked down at her.

“Lead the way Potter.”

Lily let a smile break across her face as James mirrored her emotion, with a tug on her hand he pulled her alongside him into the night.

#jily fic #jily #james potter #lily evans #guitarist! james #baker! lily #muggle au #roomie writes #my writing #meet cute au #jily meet cute #hp #hp fic #hp fanfic #famous au

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westerhos · 5 years ago

Text

Our Story: Chapter 6

[December 24th, 1998]

There is something to be said for the peculiar hour of the blue-morning, when a hospital beeps into quiet life. Death rattles behind drawn curtains, expletives are spat over set bones, and shots are taken in the thigh. It is not like Jamie’s Grampian refuge, which springs forth naturally from the earth. Instead, Boston GH scars the landscape, numbing loneliness through morphine drips and the tug of sheer necessity.

It is during this gradual reawakening that Claire hides in a closet, imagines the pink, wet sacs of her lungs contract and expand. She counts her breaths to release the night’s chaos, still lodged deep in her throat.

During the wild evening hours, Claire sees only what exists outside her body. Such an easy thing to do as a doctor, this sudden corporeal separation—a leap into the procedural dance, a temporary loss of oneself to the staunching of blood and the sewing of sutures.

But eventually the window of calm arrives, and the wall of dissociation begins to crumble. Claire, in her closet sanctuary, returns to her body once more, the sight of her arms and her hands like four old friends reacquainted.

Claire hunkers down between two shelves, and relief travels from foot to torso, settling somewhere inside her gut. As always, she has brought her medical bag—a gift from her husband, CER embossed in golden filigree—and rummages through it. As always, she finds the folder and flicks it open, seeking the page that is stowed inside. She is forever tethered to its final sentence, which launches a fresh rip of longing straight to her chest.

And as always, she goes back to the beginning, following the words. Fingers like greedy sponges, text absorbing into skin.

NEW YORK CITY, 11:30AM - The diner hushes when the bell tinkles, announcing the arrival of literary darling James Fraser. He is a giant in more ways than one: six-feet tall, wide-set shoulders, and a critically-acclaimed author with legions of fans. But for all his inches and his clout, Fraser is blissfully unaware of the eyes on his back. When he sits opposite me and shakes my hand, I, like the rest of the world, find him to be impulsively likable.

Sporting one month’s growth of beard and a wrinkled v-neck, it doesn’t take long for Fraser’s roguish charm to earn a complimentary meal. He is quick to thank the waitress, and for not the first time, one has to wonder how the man could possibly be single. Surely his good looks, his talent, and Reformed Bad Boy reputation draws the ladies in?

Point proven: Our waitress lingers, hungry for Fraser’s attention, but he closes his menu after ordering a glass of lemonade. (An odd choice, but then our writing heroes are full of idiosyncrasies, aren’t they?) I almost leap to console the girl, that poor thing, as she runs a self-conscious hand down her apron.

Alas, one gets the impression that it isn’t pickiness keeping Fraser romantically unattached. Nor is it misogyny or closeted homosexuality (despite what those tabloid vipers spit). James Fraser simply enjoys his place in the lonely hearts club—and is perfectly content to stay there, sipping ice-cold lemonade.

Frank’s ring glides across the lines, pauses over “single”. Such a different life, so removed from Claire’s, though here it thrums beneath her hands. Suddenly, her head grows heavier, weighted by the chain draped around her neck. Jamie’s thistle ring dangles there, cold as death. Forever tucked inside her shirts, a secret between her breasts. (Frank lets her wear it, just as she lets him wear his stained button-downs, other women smiling from the collars.)

Fraser’s second and latest novel, Two Centuries in Purgatory, released just last month to stellar reviews. Hailed as a “modern classic” by The New York Times (and truly, it is), Purgatory has found a comfortable seat at the top of the bestseller lists, and shows no signs of losing momentum. Now touring the U.S., Fraser seems nonplussed by the bustle of the Big Apple, his eighth time to our concrete jungle (“I’ve a parade of publisher meetings and interviews tomorrow,” he grumbles). Though he’s a longtime resident of both Edinburgh and Glasgow, he says no city feels like home nowadays. “Where is home then?” I ask him, and in traditional Fraser fashion, he deadpans: “Lost.”

For all his fame and glory, there is something decidedly melancholy about James Fraser. But of course, we all know why. We’ve read his books, haven’t we? We know his story.

Gillian Edgars: Are you enjoying your lemonade, Mr. Fraser?

James Fraser: Aye, verra much so. Lemonade in Scotland doesna taste like this.

GE: Mmmm, exploring the pleasures of America. I like it. Now, shall we begin? Let’s start with Two Centuries in Purgatory.

Claire brings the page a few inches closer. This is not the first time she has read the article, its edges worn to yellowing curls.

A familiar anger sinks its claws into her side as this reproduction of Jamie staggers into a flickering half-life. Gillian Edgars thinks she knows the man behind the book jacket. The entire world, for that matter, believes they can claim the bold-faced names on their hardbacks.

But, Claire seethes, do these people know that Jamie smiles in his sleep? That he’s prone to seasicknesses, could not wink at the waitress even if he tried? No. Only Claire knows these smaller, intimate truths—but still, they are not enough. Jamie is no longer only hers, but a communal being disseminated and shared amongst millions. Strangers have molded her Jamie into something new, into hollow casts of their false impressions.

Without warning, the closet door swings open and Joe Abnernathy leans in. “Knew I’d find you in here,” he says, but he draws up short. His smile falters when he sees Claire on the ground. Falters further still when he reads the headline, "Scotland’s Newest Literary Hero," on the page and on her face.

“Lady Jane, why do you do this to yourself? We’re working, I know, but can’t you try to be merry? It’s officially Christmas Eve!”

Joe kneels down, and levels his gaze with hers—the gentle but silent disappointment of an older brother. Claire holds firm when he pries the clipping from her grasp, the paper snagging the skin of her palm. It glides over and up, a shallow curve that splits into fine, shining rubies. A jeweled J, just at the base of her thumb.

Claire presses the wound to her teeth, tastes the heady, metallic taste of herself. (Later, she will trace the cut with reverence, grateful to be marred, at the very least, by a shade of Jamie.)

Joe tsks and reaches for a shelf, bringing back the first aid kit.

“Perks of hiding in a hospital supply closet. Bandages, everywhere. Take this.”

“It’s fine, Joe,” Claire assures him but accepts the bandaid anyways. “I’m fine—just a bad day and a scratch. See? No significant blood loss.”

“Thought I’d witnessed the first fatal paper cut,” Joe says, but then continues, more softly, “LJ, I thought you’d given this up. That Frank made you promise you’d stop.”

“He did,” Claire replies. “And I did too, for a while.”

Her stomach turns as the memory resurfaces: her husband, feeding the shredder a feast of papers. The machine’s tight-lipped and fanged smile destroying Claire’s collection of articles, her glimpses of Jamie. Frank had held her as the teeth had chewed, tightened his grip when she repeated his words back to him, “Time to leave the past behind.” And afterwards, once the the bin had emptied into the trash, Frank had dragged the bag of shreds to the curb. Claire had looked on, standing in the doorway, a soldier’s wife already in mourning.

(That evening, she almost snuck outside to piece the words together, for old habits die hard and a planet will always yearn for her sun. But then Frank’s arm had risen in the darkness, flopped sleepily across her waist. The weight of it had held her there, and so she’d stayed, picturing the night creatures stealing Jamie away, piece by piece.)

“I just…wanted to see what people were saying. About his new book.” She sighs. “I know I’m being ridiculous. It’s just that…”

“He’s everywhere, isn't he? In the papers, on TV. Saw they’re making a Lifetime adaptation of A Blade of Grass. Jesus.”

Claire nods. “Steering clear of that one.” (But she won’t, of course. Claire will want to see herself and Jamie on that screen, their better, manufactured selves broadcasted in technicolor.)

“You’re really gonna let me down like that, Lady Jane? I thought we’d drink cheap Scotch, put the movie on mute, and invent the dialogue ourselves. Next weekend, the two of us. Drunk and vengeful. Whaddya say?”

“A hard pass, Joe. We’ll be in Oxford for the holidays, anyways. Visiting Frank’s family.”

“Well, la-di-dah. I’ll be on this side of Atlantic throwing popcorn at my TV.” Joe leaps to his feet when his pager beeps. As he walks out the door, his hand flies to his coat pocket and he withdraws a shabby paperback. “Before I forget—a Christmas gift, for the Lady. If you’re gonna scramble your brain with nonsense, let it be Tessa’s ‘membrane of innocence’. Not ‘Scotland’s Newest Literary Hero.’”

Claire laughs and flips through The Impetuous Pirate, inhaling its smell of antiseptic and mildew and the vestiges of long-ago fingerprints. A Harlequin, taken from the hospital waiting room. “Aye aye, captain. But if it’s all the same to you, I’ll stay here in Davy Jones’ Locker for a while longer.”

Joe nods, consoling, before he turns to answer an intern's cries for help.

Alone again, Claire tucks The Impetuous Pirate inside her bag, picks up the discarded article from the floor. For the first time, she notices its publication date, October 20th, was her 31st birthday. She cannot remember the details of the occasion—Did Frank take her to a concert, or to a movie? Buy her flowers or chocolates?—and yet a foreign scene plays so clearly in her mind. It is something cut from the script of her life, the stagehand’s hook pulling her to the wings before she has a chance to speak. Cast in the closet’s dim spotlight, it unfolds as the playact that could have been but never was:

Jamie, in the New York diner, drinking lemonade. Condensation like dew drops, rolling down the pitcher. A young girl in Gillian Edgars’ place, singing a high soprano. And Claire, beside her, blowing out candles in a single huff.

As she slices the birthday cake, this almost-Claire nicks her finger on the knife’s blade. “Kiss to make it better!” the young girl cries, and Jamie does, his lips are on the sting, and then Claire’s mouth. He tastes of citrus, of yellow and sunshine, a marigold paradise in a city of dying autumn leaves. “Does it still hurt, Sassenach?” he asks her. “Not anymore,” she says. And when the little girl giggles, watching them, it is something sacred. She licks the frosting from the candles. “So what’d you wish for, Mama?” she asks, not knowing that, in a moments like these, there is no need for wishes.

Claire’s pager rings, rearranging her memories. Now she remembers her 31st birthday—and knows it did not happen in that diner. On that day, there was no little girl; no citrus kisses in a molting New York.

Instead, Frank had taken Claire to the opera house, a drawn-out affair they had both fidgeted through. Back at home, he had led her to the bedroom and its king-sized bed, had slipped off her dress while she kept her chain on. “Talk to me,” he’d panted, silver thistles against her chest. And when she came, it was not Frank’s body that drew her cries. It was not Frank’s name that rose from her lips.

Claire scans the article, skipping again to the final paragraphs. Here lies the line she reads over and over, the very reason she shells $15 for subscriptions and scavenges in bins for scraps. Anything to discover some evidence of herself, some proof that she still lives in the peripheries of Jamie’s life. And whenever she finds it, it pours into her and lingers, like wine.

GE: Your debut was quite impressive—an instant bestseller, an Oprah Book Club pick, an upcoming TV movie. I’m sure you’ve been asked this before…but allow me to be a hack for just one moment. Let me ask the nosy questions. Let me pry.

JF: I dinna have a fear of rats [SMILES]. Get on wi’ it then.

GE: I appreciate it, Mr. Fraser, I do [LAUGHS]. The protagonist’s struggles in A Blade of Grass—the financial woes, the criminal record, the years of solitude—they seem to mirror your own. Is it accurate to say that the book is autobiographical?

“Randall?” a voice calls from outside the closet. “Randall, are you in there? Mr. Duncan in Room #18 needs to be—”

“Prepped for surgery, I know!” Claire finishes. Her voice is shrill, rising with her goosebumps as she nears the interview’s end. “I’ll be out in a second, Dr. Hildegarde!”

JF: In some respects, aye, A Blade of Grass is autobiographical. Mind, I made a lot of it up myself. Embellished a few things.

GE: Oh yes, certainly. But even without your embellishments, your life does make for such an interesting tale. In a way, your struggles are what made you a literary sensation. But still, I do wonder—do you regret any of it? The gamble, the money, the arrest?

JF: [LAUGHS QUIETLY] I thank ye for the compliment, Ms. Edgars, but I hope my sins are no’ responsible for the book’s success. And for the record, they were largely exaggerated by the press.

GE: Ah, right. We rats are despicable creatures, always desperate for crumbs. But they never fill the belly, not really.

JF: Have ye tried poetry before, Ms. Edgars? You’ve a knack for it [LOOKS AWAY]. But nay, it isna the crimes themselves that I regret most. Whether they were exaggerated or no.

GE: Really? There’s something else [LEANS FORWARD]? Will you tell me then, your life’s biggest regret? Or will you keep me and your readers in the dark, forever wondering what keeps our beloved James Fraser up at night?

Now Claire closes her hand into a fist, forces herself to bleed out from that thin, half-mooned J. She imagines Jamie’s face, inscrutable to Gillian Edgars, but fixed in an expression that she, and only she, can read. And if Claire had been there on that October afternoon, sitting in the diner’s vinyl booth, she would have understood. Would’ve known already what Jamie regretted most, what he would and could not say aloud. For within this precious, final line—their spoken and unspoken wishes:

JF: My biggest regret? I let the story end early.

(JF: I should have loved her better—God! I should have loved her better.)

_______

I have very few comments about this one, but I will say A) Jamie’s POV comes much more naturally to me—probably because I, like Jamie, love Claire so frickin’ much—so writing this was like pulling teeth. And B) As I was writing this chapter, I knew it was time to bring Jamie and Claire back together. Even I was rooting for them to reunite.

I love Joe and Claire’s friendship, and I wish I’d shown more of it in this fic (although what’s here I think fits pretty naturally). And I have to say...I love Geillis—or the idea of her: witchy, feminist, and confident—a whole lot, despite her Voyager crimes. Here, she is my Outlander version of Harry Potter’s Rita Skeeter, and I could write an entire fic from her voice any day.

#outlander #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #myfic #i am so bad at dialogue!!!!!

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emilycollins00 · 5 years ago

Note

first off, i adore your writing style.

if it's not too heavy could i request a pre-t ftm reader with Juza? (if it's too heavy, or you don't feel you could do it accurately, that's fine as well ^^)

Aww thank you so so much! Really made me happy knowing you like my style! 💕

I’m sorry it took me this long to do though. I wanted you and everyone to enjoy it so I wanted to do some reading about the topic before. Apologize if how I wrote some things might not be completely right! I hope people who are more educated on the topic will hopefully help me improve educate myself better.

Hope you guys like it. Enjoy!💕

Title: Lovely smile

Pairing: Juza Hyodo x pre-t ftm! reader

Theme: Comfort/fluff

Juza might not understand it fully well, but since the first moment, he doesn’t mind

“S’okay”

You blink stunned, digesting his fast acceptance

He shrugs when he sees you are not reacting, trying to explain himself

“…that means you’re just as much of a man as I am, aint’ it? Fine by me. I love you the way you are... or choose to be. If you like yourself, that’s enough for me”

Oh, you could feel your mind and body releasing all the tension you had contained as he said those things to you. Juza thanking you for sitting him down with him after you calm down

Which makes you kiss him so hard he turns rigid and a blushing mess

I believe he would have some difficulties understanding some aspects

Probably will be found reading about gender identity in between the autumn plays so he can be of help and understand you better

You eventually talk to everyone at Mankai too. Of course, everyone does nothing but support you!

Did I mention Juza is very protective of you?

Like a big fluffy bear.

Someone makes a mean comment? Snort? You have to stop Juza because he’s already onto them to knock out teeth.

Will smile affectionately whenever you tell him you passed that day talking to the lady in the shopping mall

Regarding the clothes, wow, there’s not a day you are not borrowing something from him. Not that he minds, you look great.

Always right pronouns when he refers to you

Juza does his absolute best to help you with dysphoria. When you get dysphoric he usually holds you close, his strong and calming voice telling you how much of a great boyfriend you are

“My feet and hands are small”

“…like’em”

“I’m thinking of buying a binder”

“…let’s go tomorrow then”

You are everything to him, honestly. He wants you always to feel well and safe with him

“Thank you for coming!” the waitress smiled at you two as you paid for your coffee and cakes.

You and Juza had just finished having some sweets in the new patisserie that had opened next to Veludo Park. As you opened the door, you turned to your boyfriend when you heard a noise from behind him

“Excuse me, miss!” the waitress ran with something in her hand, “I think this is your wallet, right? You left it in our counter”

Indeed, it was yours “…uh, yes, sorry” Juza eyed you as you thanked her for noticing it before you two were farther and resumed your way out.

Having some time left before rehearsal, you two went to his shared room, relaxing on the couch, you reading a book, while he tried to memorize the new script. A few minutes later, you noticed him staring at you. You left the book on your lap and smiled at him “Everything okay, Juza?”

Feeling caught, the autumn member blushed, looking down. You titled your head as he lifted his head again, frowning like he did when he was concentrating.

“…I wanted to ask you somethin’” he sat straighter.

You smiled at him, indicating him to keep going.

“I… ” he didn’t want to avert his eyes when asking the question. He needed to see your reaction “When people keep call you girl or miss… or give you looks, y’seem ‘kay… but I thought I’d be a shitty boyfriend if I didn’t ask… how you really feel.”

It hadn’t been that long since you had come out to Juza and you couldn’t be happier when your sweet lover didn’t think twice before accepting you.

You smiled at the memory “Okay, first? You would never be a shitty boyfriend. You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met… metaphorically and literary” you laughed remembering how many cakes he just had eaten half an hour ago, and Juza felt his stomach swirl at the sound.

“Let’s see…” after that, you went quiet, trying to find a good way to explain your emotions and thoughts about others “To answer truthfully…” you looked up at the ceiling “It does hurt a little”

He nodded silently. He had expected a response like that “…I’m sorry” He took your hand and from the corner of your eyes you saw the way he looked at you, hoping he could take your pain away.

You pursed your lips, trying to control your emotions. You leaned and kissed his lips grateful. They tasted like chocolate and cream.

He squeezed your hand, letting you know he had liked it, and you smiled at the gesture, enjoying the clash between his rough hands against yours“…It’s okay. Really. You are here with me and so is everyone. That’s the only thing that matters to me. I might not physically be there yet but… it’ll be okay. Thank you for asking”

Juza nodded “I mean, even now you’re still the most handsome boy I’ve met… Never thought was goin’ to be a problem anyway”

You felt your face burning as you looked away, embarrassed “Juza!” you would never be able to keep a straight face when he threw you those compliments

Words like those meant more than he could ever imagine. You were a man, nothing would change that, and Juza loved you exactly like that.

He blinked, frowning confused when he saw you trying to remove the tears you had realised had formed in your eyes “…Y’okay?” he helped you drying them, caressing awkwardly your cheeks.

“Yes” he heard you whispering as you gave him a small smile, your foreheads touching as you leaned towards him again “I love you so much, Juza”

“…love you too” he murmured, relaxing before kissing you again. He truly loved your smile

_____________________________________________________________

I truly believe Juza might be the equivalent of a life size bear in human form, love him so much.

Hope you guys liked it. Have a wonderful day! 💕

#a3! act! addict! actors!#A3! Actor Training Game #a3 act #a3! juza #a3!#a3 #a3 headcanons #a3 scenarios #a3 juza #juza hyodo x reader #juza hyodo #pre-t ftm reader #juza x reader #juza

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justthehiddleswrites · 4 years ago

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Follow My Lead | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 3 | Hello my sunshine boy

A/N: This will update every Thursday. There are 13 chapters. There are all sorts of kinds of D/s relationships. This is the one I choose to write this time.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Vivian Swann)

Summary: Tom and Vivian have both been unlucky in love, searching for something outside of the bounds of a typical relationship. When the two of them connect via a dating app, Tom is introduced to the idea of being submissive to Vivian. Which is the one thing he never knew he needed. Under the firm hand of Vivian, Tom learns what it means to submit and Vivian learns what it means to be in a loving dominant relationship. But not everyone seems to understand what they have and the best intentions can destroy the strongest relationship.

This Chapter: Tom and Vivian slowly move forward and Tom discovers a thorn in his side named Benedict.

Warnings for story: Dominant/submissive relationship (sub!Tom), lots of smut including but not limited to: vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), edging, denial, teasing, use of restraints, spanking, multiple orgasm, anal play, use of toys.

Taglists are open! Please let me know if you wish to be added! Thank you for reading.

“You are positively glowing, Viv.” Her best friend Ashley commented as they sat down for lunch that Monday. “Don’t tell me you finally got laid. What has been seven, eight months?”

“Twenty-two, but who’s counting?” Vivian snapped back.

“You.” Ashley stabbed her fork at her. “So if it wasn’t sex, then what? Did you find a new esthetician? You have to give me the name. My pores are crying.”

“I found someone, but not an esthetician. A boy.” Vivian responded, coy, not wanting to reveal too much after just one date.

“A boy?” Ashley clapped her hands together in excitement.

Ashley’s perpetual joy could grate on Vivian’s nerves on worse days, but as her best friend throughout law school, she couldn’t imagine her life without Ash. Vivian shot her a glare.

“Yes.” She stabbed at her salad.

Ashley’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “You mean a boy boy?”

“Possibly. We’ve only been on one date.” She held up a finger. “Before you ask, a normal ‘vanilla’ date. Dinner.”

“But…”

Viv smiled. “But there is a… a… quality about him. So full of life and stinking positive. It’s intoxicating.” She shivered, remembering that kiss.

“Anything else?” Ashley blinked at her, knowing there was more to tell.

“He is also drop dead gorgeous and an amazing kisser.”

“Details, or it didn’t happen. First off, tongue or no tongue?”

“Not telling.”

“Boo.” Ashley pouted. “Give me something. What celebrity does he look like?”

Vivian stopped chewing to stop herself from choking. What a loaded question.

“Tom Hiddleston.”

“Ooooh,” Ashley cooed. “He is so hot.”

“But enough about me,” Vivian changed the subject before Ashley pushed much further. “How are things with Eric?”

Ashley poked at her food. “Things are not. He ghosted me a week ago.”

Vivian’s phone buzzed. It was Tom. She said a silent prayer that she had labeled him in her phone as T and not his full name as Ashley leaned over to read the message.

Thinking about you. Already finished one book you recommended. Thank you for that. They have been most helpful.

She smiled at the message.

“Is that the boy?” Ashley craned her neck. “Let me see.”

Vivian flipped the phone around for her to read.

“Awww. He is just the cutest. When are you seeing him again?”

“He is calling tonight and I imagine we will make plans then.”

Ashley danced a bit in her chair. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

Tom ran double his usual miles that Monday morning. His body and brain were a jumble of nervous energy. He felt well… as giddy as a schoolboy. A feeling which had eluded him for quite some time. Once he returned and showered, he settled onto his couch with the second of the books Vivian suggested while listening to some music at a low volume. He ignored the buzz of messages on his phone until he finished the book.

Three missed messages and one phone call from Benedict. That man was like a dog with a bone for meddling and prying into Tom’s personal life. This had only gotten worse since Ben married and had kids. Now that he was coupled up, it seems Benedict was intent on getting Tom to the same status. Tom didn’t have the time, guts, or inclination to explain his desire for a relationship less ordinary. And reading those books only confirmed Tom’s suspicions about what he wanted.

He ignored Benedict and instead typed up a quick text to Vivian. She should be at lunch around now. While he waited for her to respond, Tom grabbed a script from the table and flipped it open. He wasn’t sure how he felt about starring in another period drama, but he promised his agent he would let them know yes or no by the end of the week.

There was a knock at his door. Tom opened the door. Benedict pushed his way into Tom’s home.

“You don’t write. You don’t call.” Benedict’s arms flailed about.

Tom frowned at his face. “Come on in, Ben. I’m not busy at all.” His voice oozed with sarcasm.

“If you answered your phone, I wouldn’t have to barge in like this. Hello.” Benedict continued to pace the floor.

“Hello.” Tom replied. He glanced into the living room and saw his stack of books in plain sight on the sofa. “Now what is so urgent it required you to come to my house in the middle of the day?”

“How did the date go?” Benedict flashed a gigantic smile at Tom.

Tom groaned and walked back into the living room. He shoved the books out of sight under a table. Benedict flopped down in their place.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Come on. I would tell you.” Benedict continued to smile as though he was a maniacal clown.

“Fortunately, I’m not you. Now if you please…” He gestured for the door. “… I have work to do.”

Tom shoved Benedict off the sofa and towards the door.

“Please something. A morsel. A tidbit.”

“Not even a scrap.”

“A name?” Benedict called out, a Hail Mary effort to extract something from his best friend. He can’t ever remember Tom being this tightlipped before.

“Vivian.”

“Last name?”

“None of your business. Goodbye Benedict.” Tom slammed the door in Ben’s face as he opened his mouth to say something.

Tom slumped onto the couch and stared down at the script he was reading. His phone buzzed.

Thinking about you too. Glad to hear about the reading. Talk to you soon.

Tom smiled and double checked to make sure his alarm was set for 10:55 that night. With a sigh, he grabbed the script and continued reading.

Vivian didn’t get home until almost 10:30 that night. The paralegal in charge of organizing the documents for her deposition tomorrow had up and quit, and she spent most of the day along with three first-year associates getting everything in order. Her body ached even after a quick shower, her brain was buzzing. It was also like that the day before depositions. She made a cup of tea and then settled into bed. Vivian tried reading, but her brain wouldn’t shut down. She didn’t keep a TV in the bedroom.

Her phone rang. Tom. Right on time.

“Hello?”

“Evening, darling.” His voice smooth and rich. Vivian’s shoulders relaxed. “How was your day?”

“Long. Yours?”

“Boring. Would you like to tell me about yours?”

“I don’t want to burden you.” Vivian pouted.

“I would be happy to listen.”

She perked up a bit and ranted about the kerfuffle that afternoon. Tom listened intently, interjecting words of encouragement along the way.

“It sounds like the whole thing is in your capable hands. I was wondering…” He paused. “Never mind.”

“No, what were you wondering about?”

“I was wondering if you would like to come over to my place and I could cook you dinner on Thursday.”

She smiled. “I would like that.” There was a pregnant pause over the line. She could sense his shyness and nerves through the phone. “Was there something else you wanted?”

Tom sighed into the phone. “Perhaps we could try a few things. Nothing sexual.” He quickly added. His stomach twisted into knots.

“I think that could happen. How about tomorrow I email you a list of some possibles and see what works for you?”

“Thank you. I would like that very much.” The pep in his voice returning. “I don’t want to keep you awake.”

“I wasn’t sleeping. I can’t get my mind to shut down.”

“Have you tried reading?”

“I can’t focus.”

Tom hesitated. “I could read to you.” His voice quiet.

“You would do that for me?”

“Yes. Would you like me to read to you?”

Vivian’s body warmed over. “I would like that very much.”

“Let’s see you’re reading Anna Karenina.” She could overhear shuffling as Tom moved to his bookshelf to find his copy. “What chapter?”

“Thirteen.”

Tom thumbed through the pages until he reached the spot.

He cleared his throat before he began. “After dinner, and till the beginning of the evening, Kitty was feeling a sensation akin to the sensation of a young man before a battle. Her heart throbbed violently, and her thoughts would not rest on anything. She felt…”

Tom got halfway through Chapter 14 before Vivian dozed off, her breath heavy and even over the phone. Tom ended the call and headed to his bedroom to sleep himself.

Vivian woke up early the next morning feeling refreshed. Her phone lay next to her on the bed. With a stretch, she rose and set about making breakfast and a cup of coffee. She hadn’t planned on falling asleep during Tom’s phone call, but his voice soothed and slowed down her brain. Which reminded her to open her laptop. She shot off a quick email to Tom giving him some ideas for Thursday.

This is a list of what may happen, not will happen.

Kneeling

Petting/stroking

Kissing

Shirt off (you)

Pants off (you, underwear stays on)

Referring to me as “ma’am”

symbol of ownership (cuffs/collar/leash)

Hair pulling/tugging

Pet name for you (boy, puppy, etc.)

She requested he let her know and to add anything for discussion, and they could talk about it more tonight. She requested he call again at 11. Vivian then clicked send and readied for the day.

The first thing Tom did when he woke that morning was check his email. He found Vivian’s and opened it.

His eyes widened as he read the list. He hadn’t thought about the idea of “ownership” yet. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that just yet. But the kneeling, petting, and titles all sounded exciting. He shot back a response, letting Vivian know his preferences and then headed out for a run.

Vivian responded to Tom’s email during the lunch hour, saying they could talk more about it that night. She spent the rest of the afternoon in ongoing meetings on a new corporate fraud case her firm just took on.

Tom read a few scripts that morning, one a drama based on an obscure book he never heard of and another a romantic comedy. After a quick lunch and more pressure from Benedict via text, Tom grabbed for the third book Vivian recommended to him. He glanced at the title Leading and Supportive Love: The Truth about Dominant and Submissive Relationships by Chris Lyon. As he delved in, Tom realized how woefully inadequate his own research had been.

The more he read, the more Tom wanted this. How he wanted to surrender and submit within a lovely romantic relationship. He had always been attracted to strong women. However, Tom found time and time again that his girlfriends looked to him to initiate. And not just sex. And with that, the relationship soured as resentment and disappointment permeated on both sides. He resigned himself to settling, convinced what he wanted didn’t exist. and then he discovered the dominant/submissive relationship community. Too scared to hunt out a pro-domme, Tom settled on the dating profile on a vanilla website.

His alarm rang at 10:55 and he grabbed his copy of Anna Karenina and settled onto the couch to call Vivian.

Vivian settled into bed ahead of Tom’s phone call. She planned on asking him to read to her again. He called at exactly 11 again and she wondered if he stared at his phone waiting for the minutes to count down.

“Hello my sunshine boy.” She greeted him.

Tom smiled. “Sunshine boy?” his tone not accusatory but questioning.

“Because you are as golden and bright as the sun.”

“I like that. I enjoy being your warmth and sunshine.”

“Good, because it’s your pet name now. Speaking of…. Thursday.”

“Right.” Tom squirmed. Thursday was a big day. “Tell me how it will work.”

“So we will establish the rules and protocols tonight, and they are in place until I leave. Anything on the list is fair game. I expect you to comply with my requests. If there is anything not on the list we wish to explore, consent and discussion will happen beforehand. If at any point, you feel uncomfortable and wish to disengage, you can use a safety word. What would you like your safety word to be?”

“Sushi.” Tom responded. “That all sounds fine. And I should call you…”

“Ma’am for now.” She smiled. “Now will you read for me again, please?” Her tone gentle but firm.

“Yes, ma’am.” he tried it out. It felt nice. “Where did I leave off?”

“Please.”

Tom grabbed his book and flipped it open to where he marked his spot with a bookmark. “That must be Vronsky, thought Levin, and, to be sure of it, glanced at Kitty. She had already had time to look at Vronsky, and looked round to Levin. And simply from the look in her eyes, that grew unconsciously brighter, Levin knew that she loved that man, knew it as surely as if she had told him so in words.”

Vivian dozed off soon after Tom began, and he ended the call before falling asleep on the couch himself.

Wednesday seemed to drag for both of them in anticipation for Thursday night. Tom busied himself with cleaning his house, which had grown cluttered now that he was back living there full time. In between the mopping of the floors and shoving a third load of laundry in the washer, Tom finished up the third and fourth books Vivian told him to read. He had two left. Tom also made a special trip to the store and gathered the ingredients for dinner. He was tempted to make Bolognese but thought Italian two dates in a row might be a bit much and instead settled on a lovely roast dinner with all the fixings. Tom even went so far as to call his mother for tips.

“Trying to impress a girl, I take it?” Diana Hiddleston mused as she explained how to make Yorkshire pudding.

“A woman, Mother.” he corrected her. “She’s not just some girl.”

“Clearly if you are contemplating baking for her. I hope she is worth all this trouble.”

“It’s no trouble.” Tom scribbled down notes in handwriting he was certain to be unable to decipher later. “Now for a pudding…”

Diana chuckled as she listed off a few simple recipes for Tom to try.

Vivian left work two hours early on Thursday in order to get and ready and head over to Tom’s in time. He texted her the address that morning. He continued to call her at 11 and read to her every night. It was a small comfort, and she looked forward to it every evening.

Her fingers ran along the clothes hanging in her wardrobe, contemplating how dressy to go. She lighted on a long floral cotton maxi dress with a high slit on the side. Vivian paired with a wedge and a light jacket and grabbed her phone and purse before catching an Uber over to Tom’s.

Tom couldn’t remember the last time his palms sweated before a date. But they were and causing him to bobble in the kitchen, nearly dumping all the roasted potatoes on the ground. He was just pulling out the Yorkshire puddings when his doorbell rang.

Tom sprung into action, running to the door, shedding the apron along the way and smoothing down the front of his button-down shirt. He opened the door to find Vivian standing there smiling.

“Evening,” he started, smiling. “ma’am.” he added quickly.

“That’s my sunshine boy.” she responded, stepping into his foyer. She grabbed him by the back of neck and kissed him. Tom’s hand landed on her shoulders. She pulled him forward twice by the neck as they kissed before releasing him.

“Allow me to take your jacket, ma’am.” Tom moved to behind Vivian and waited until she nodded before slipping it off her shoulders and hanging it on a nearby hook.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Care for a tour?” He extended his arm towards the living room.

“Lead the way.” She reached out and held onto the back of his neck before sliding it down to the small of his back. He shivered at her touch. “Okay?” She checked in with him.

“Fine. I just… I’m not used to people touching me there.” he replied, shy and self-conscious.

“If it makes you uncomfortable, use your word.” She used her other hand to smooth down his hair.

“Yes, ma’am. I like it.”

“Then I’ll keep doing it.”

Tom smiled as she smoothed down his hair and he continued with the tour. Vivian took in every inch of Tom’s home. It was clean and well furnished. She enjoyed the large bookcase covering an entire wall in his study, along with an impressive DVD collection. She spied a few family photos in the bedroom on the dresser in front of his king size bed. They returned to the kitchen right as the oven timer went off.

Tom stepped away and grabbed an oven mitt and pulled his tart from the oven. Vivian glanced over his shoulder to see a full roast dinner, Tom had gone all out for her.

“I’m impressed, good job.” She kissed his cheek.

He blushed at her praise. “I may have gone a bit overboard.”

“Nonsense. Now get me a glass of wine please.” She directed before sitting down at the table Tom had set.

“Red, white, or I have champagne, ma’am?” He stood by the fridge, waiting.

Vivian wrinkled her nose. “Champagne makes me sneeze. Red.”

Tom nodded and grabbed a bottle from the counter which he opened and poured them both a glass. He handed Vivian’s hers first before setting his on the table and returning to the kitchen. Vivian slid his glass over to her side of the table and sipped hers. Tom had great taste in wine.

He returned to the table and set her plate down for her and then himself before sitting. Tom glanced around for his glass of wine.

“No wine for you tonight.”

Tom opened his mouth and contemplated his next words as Vivian sipped her wine, staring at him. “Yes, ma’am.” He sounded disappointed but pulled his glass of water close.

Vivian reached out and stroked his arm. “Don’t worry, my sunshine boy, there will still be plenty of fun to be had.” He perked up a bit. “How is your reading going?”

Tom finished chewing before answering. “Great. I am on book number 4. Just two more to go and then my 500 word essay. May I write more than 500 words?”

“Yes, but no more than a 1000.”

Tom nodded and Vivian tucked into the roast. It was juicy and seasoned to perfection. “Whose recipe did you steal?”

“My mother’s.” Tom replied. “Excuse me for a moment.” He stood and left for the kitchen, returning with a gravy boat and the bottle of wine. He held up the gravy. “May I, ma’am?”

“Yes please.” She held up her plate to close the distance. Tom poured a healthy amount of gravy on the plate before serving himself. “And your work? Your scripts?”

Tom sat back down. “Tedious. If I am not playing a spy, they want me to play a stuffed shirt in a cravat and waistcoat.”

“I bet you are dashing in a cravat and waistcoat.” She smirked at him, aware Tom would be dashing in a potato sack and tissue boxes.

“There is one that caught my eye. I wondered if you like to take a look at it.”

“What kind of movie?”

“Romantic comedy.”

Vivian giggled. “Do they still make those?”

Tom narrowed his eyes for a moment. “Yes. Would you like to take a look? Ma’am?”

“Maybe later.” She sipped her wine. Tom held the bottle up. “No, thank you. I have work tomorrow.”

Tom nodded and set the bottle down. “How are the depositions going?”

“As well as can be expected, but this case isn’t won or lost through depositions.”

“How is it then?”

“By who blinks first.” She deadpanned. “And I am a world class champion in staring contests.”

Tom shook his head, taking his last bite of potato before standing to clear the plates. “Remind me never to cross you.”

Vivian leaned back in her chair. “I guarantee in six months you will beg me to punish you.”

She chuckled as the plates clattered in the sink before he turned on the water to let them soak during dessert. Vivian enjoyed pushing when the mood suited her. And Tom suited her just fine.

He returned with his Bakewell tart, two plates and forks. “I noticed you didn’t eat much of the chocolate dessert on Sunday.”

“It was fine, but not my favorite. Thank you for noticing.”

Tom cut up the tart and served up a small slice to Vivian and took a larger piece for himself.

“Don’t you worry about gaining weight?” she questioned.

“I run at least three miles a day, although since I met you that has doubled. And I have a fast metabolism. It is very hard for me to put on muscle mass. Ask my trainer.”

“I just might.” She took a bite and moaned. “Delicious.”

Tom licked his lips and took a bite, moaning. “That is delicious.” he mumbled, his mouth full.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” She pointed a finger at him.

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry.” He covered his mouth and swallowed.

“You don’t need to apologize, Tom.” Vivian reached out and rubbed his arm. “Fix it the next time.”

Tom leaned into her hand. “Yes, ma’am.”

Vivian ate most of her dessert while Tom polished his off.

“All done?”

She wiped her mouth and finished up her wine. “Yes, thank you. That was delicious. I need you to cook for me more often.”

Tom chuckled as he cleared the plates. “I’ll keep that in mind. If you like, you can take a seat in the living room while I clean up.”

“I’d rather stay in here with you.”

“Of course.” He hustled over to the sink and turned on the water. He rinsed the plates and utensils while Vivian sat at the table and watched. She took the sight of his backside in the jeans he selected for the evening. Very nice. She couldn’t wait to redden those cheeks when the time came.

She stood and joined him after Tom put away the leftovers and turned his attention to the pans. As he scrubbed, Vivian came up behind him and petted the back of his head and neck. He leaned against her hand and Vivian swore he purred.

“That feels nice, ma’am.” he hummed, but not stopping his washing.

“Finish up and come to the living room, sunshine boy.”

She tugged his hair once before releasing his hair and walking out of the kitchen. Vivian surveyed his DVDs while Tom finished up. She could hear the water turn off and the pans clanging together as he put them away. Vivian remained standing.

Tom walked into his own living room as though he were a stranger. His hands fidgeting in front of him.

“I won’t bite, Thomas.” she smirked. “At least I won’t bite tonight.”

Tom gulped and shifted his weight. “Yes, ma’am.”

She circled him like an animal on the prowl. Her fingers ran along the width of his shoulders. He shivered again. Vivian stopped and took a step back.

“Are you still doing okay?”

“I’m fine.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Please don’t stop.” His blue eyes begged her to touch him again.

She nodded and slid her hand down his back before bringing it up his neck and into his hair.

“Take off your shirt.”

Tom hesitated for a moment before unbuttoning his shirt. He pulled it off and tossed it onto a nearby chair.

“Fold it and place it on the table.”

Tom’s mouth dropped open, and he stood still. Vivian walked in front of him.

“I don’t enjoy repeating myself, sunshine.”

Tom scrambled into action. “Yes, ma’am.” He folded the shirt like they would in a retail store and then spun in place. There were three tables in the room.

“The small one with the lamp, please.” Tom sighed in relief and placed his shirt down.

“On the couch, on your back, hands behind your head.”

Vivian leaned down to unbuckle her wedges, slipping them off and placing them by the armchair. Tom positioned himself on the couch, taking up the entire length. Vivian licked her lips at the sight of Tom. The hint of chest hair. His Adonis belt and treasure trail. She made a mental list of things to do in the future to Tom.

She hitched her skirt up to straddle Tom’s torso. ��No touching.”

Tom nodded eagerly. “Yes, ma’am.”

Vivian leaned down to his face, her hands slid up his bare chest to his neck. One hand pressed Tom’s shoulder into the cushions while the other cupped his cheeks. Her thumbs ran along his sharp cheekbones before reaching the temples. Vivian’s fingers laced into Tom’s hair and then she tugged him into her.

Tom’s lips sighed into her. Vivian took the opportunity to slip her tongue into his mouth. He wiggled underneath her but his hands stayed behind his head. She pulled back and Tom leaned forward, wanting more.

“Do you want more?” she teased. Her hand firmly in his hair.

“Yes, ma’am.” He panted.

“Beg.” She tugged his head towards her, stopping just short.

“Please!” He begged not only with his words but his eyes too. “Please kiss me, ma’am.”

She tugged his head around again and pressed her lips against his. He breathed into her and she slipped her tongue in again. Tom did the same. He wiggled underneath her again. Vivian stopped, and shifted her position, her knees on Tom’s chest, her toes teasing along his crotch. His pants tenting from the feel of things.

They continued kissing like that for some time and Tom stopped wiggling. She pulled away, Tom leaned forward, wanting more.

“More, please, ma’am.” he pleaded.

Vivian pushed off of him. Her hand skimmed along his cock. It twitched under her touch and Tom moaned.

“No, not tonight. Sit up, please.” Vivian stood. Tom sat up, his lips swollen. His eyes glassy.

Vivian sat down at one end of the couch and settled in. “Kneel.”

“Yes ma’am.” He slid down the couch to kneel on the carpet by Vivian’s leg. “Never imagined anyone would say that to me.” he commented.

“Get used to it, sunshine.” She smoothed down his rumpled hair. He leaned against her legs at her touch, pressing his side against him. Vivian smiled as Tom hummed while Vivian continued to stroke and pet his hair and neck. She scratched his scalp, and he gasped.

“You’re such a good boy, sunshine.” Vivian purred. “My good boy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Vivian looked around the room and spied a small bookcase stuffed to the brim with books.

“Read to me, Thomas. Please”

He stood, not ready to miss out on Vivian touching him. He reached for Anna Karenina. Vivian touched his arm.

“No, something from your bookcase. Surprise me.”

Tom walked over to the bookcase and examined the shelves before selecting a small notebook.

“It’s a collection of poems.” he offered, he ran his finger along the spine.

“Perfect.” Vivian beckoned him back. “Kneel and read to me, please.”

Tom’s face lit up, and he resumed his position, head leaning against Vivian’s lap.

Tom cleared his throat and Vivian’s hand laced back through his hair and his shoulders relaxed. “Leda and the Swan by William Butler Yeats.”

“Interesting choice.”

“A sudden blow: the great wings beating still Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill, He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.”

After he finished the first poem, Vivian asked him to read another and then a third. His eyes closed as her hands continued to smooth and stroke his head. Tom’s body hummed. He felt… safe. Like he was home and everything would be alright.

Vivian feared he had fallen asleep. “Thomas?” she whispered.

“Yes, ma’am?” He turned his head.

“You okay?”

He nodded. “Better than okay.”

“Stand up, please.” Tom stood. “It’s time for me to go home. Walk me to the door.”

Tom’s head dropped but nodded. Vivian lingered by the front door. Her finger drawing intricate circles on his chest.

“That was…” Tom’s chest heaved as he put Vivian’s jacket on her. His body ached as though he ran fifty miles. Tom’s brain felt fuzzy and heavy. His heart full and content.

“Yeah,” Vivian finished his sentence. “For me too, sunshine boy.” She reached up and cupped his cheek with one hand, he leaned his head into her, wanting to kiss her palm but not daring to do so.

With her shoes back on her feet, she stood almost as tall as Thomas. She pecked his lips, soft and sweet and Tom returned the kiss in kind. Her stomach fluttered.

“I would like to do this again.” Tom commented as they parted.

“I was hoping you would. How would you feel about having a kissing date on Saturday night? I’m afraid I’m busy tomorrow.”

“What’s a kissing date?”

Vivian pecked his lips and rubbed his neck one more time before opening the door. Tom stumbled forward, craving her skin on his.

“I’ll text you the protocols tomorrow morning. Sleep well, sunshine.” One more kiss and then the door shut behind her.

Tom leaned against the wall, clutching his chest. He didn’t know if he would last until Saturday.

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