little-pondhead · 6 months ago
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Day 3: Invisible
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[Full strip without text under cut]
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[Dialogue]
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"Hey, Danny! Wanna play?"
"Sorry Youngblood. I can't play with you anymore, remember?"
"Oh, yeah. I forgot you grew up."
"Do you want me to sketch you again?"
"Nah, your memory is getting worse. I looked like a monkey in the last one. It sucked."
-
[If it isn’t clear, Danny can hear Youngblood, but not see him. The downside of losing his ghost powers post Phantom Planet.]
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silvysartfulness · 4 years ago
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Writer meta asks: 3, 19, 20
3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway) 
I already answered this one in another post - there’s no special such scene; if I want to write just a standalone scene I’ll do it as a one-shot and imply context and set-up in-writing. But there are scenes I look forward to writing; for the Roadtrip, a lot will go down and shift perspectives all around in the arc I mentally call the Mountains of Mist arc. That’s definitely a bit I have high hopes for!
... Technically the scene I’m supposed to be writing right now has also long been one of the “oh yeah, I’m really looking forward to this one!” bits, except now that I’m actually about to write it, I’m finding myself a bit frozen. Hopefully I’ll be able to push through this block and make it as good as I previously envisioned it...
Oh, no wait! To be honest - there are a few scenes I haven’t managed to find a good place for in the Roadtrip timeline yet, but have been very entertained by in headcanons, and that’s a fair number of WWX and XY interaction scenes!
I don’t know if I’ll manage to work things out enough in the story to make any of that fit, but I have a vivid image of WWX and XY literally bumping into each other at the market street of a random town while departing a liquor stall and candy stall respectively. XY is delighted by the chance meeting and toothily compliments WWX’s reflexes in catching the falling bottles, WWX is mostly “wtf how are you still not dead??” about things. If I can get the timeline to allow for it, it’s a scene I’d still love to write, but we’ll see.
19. Is there something you always find yourself repeating in your writing? (favourite verb, something you describe ‘too often’, trope you can’t get enough of?) 
Ahaha. I suspect if you do a word count in my writing, you’ll see the word “pain” repeated at somewhat alarming frequency?
I like to describe body language, especially what people are doing with their hands. And eyes, I pay a lot of attention to eyes.
As for tropes, just stamp me with the “redemption arc” stamp and move on. I love, more than anything, characters who have to face their mistakes and go through a painstaking journey of sorting messes out, setting things right. Sometimes willfully, out of a genuine desire to make things better. Sometimes reluctantly or even trying not to, only sullenly agreeing in the end for one well-founded reason or another.
I love to write messy characters, greyscales, heart wrenching situations where both sides are equally wrong and right. Am also absolute sucker for “hard, cold-hearted character, absolutely coming apart at gestures of care and kindness”. That gets me every single time.
20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)
Uh-oh. You've done it now. I'll place the rest under a cut, because I can and will talk about this at length.
I already wrote in a previous post about the layers of meaning in my chapter titles, so I'll leave that aside for now.
I love using symbolism and allegories in my writing. There are some obvious ones at first glance – I often refer to Xiao Xingchen as the moon himself, especially from Xue Yang’s point of view (the moon has been one of the few proxies for Xiao Xingchen he’s had for a long time) His inner light, something with beauty and integrity but also phases of both light and dark and the ability to shift inbetweeen, unreadable. The same way I will often use ice and frost to describe Song Lan - ”he realized with frostbite clarity” is a sentence I remember that I liked writing for him.
Xue Yang isn't as clear cut; his themes shifts depending on the pov character – Song Lan thinks of him as serpent-like, and there's a wolf-theme coming up as well. But my main subtle motif for Xue Yang in this story is the tiger. Drawn partly from the obvious angle of him being able to create a Yin Tiger Amulet of his own, as well as wearing clothing with a leopard-spot like pattern in Yi City, and finally Wei Wuxian's comment of ”releasing the tiger back to the mountain” when learning Xue Yang escaped punishment for the Chang massacre. In Chinese animal symbolism, the tiger is the king of beasts, something very powerful and clever, but also unreliable, prone to lash out.
In one of the first chapters, Xue Yang is described as being ”bound with enough ropes and knots to subdue a tiger” and there are many references to the Yin Tiger Amulet throughout. I drew him and Song Lan as shishi statues in the illustration for chapter 7, feline guardians of the dead that can be interpreted as lions but also tigers. So that's a semi-secret theme. :)
Another layer of symbolism is the Daoist philosophy sprinkled throughout. Sometimes directly, through outright quotes, but often more subtly in how Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan relate to the world and other people.
”Take action by letting things take their course, he reminded himself. The more he hurried, the longer it would take to get where he was going. He could be patient. Would be.”
”He smiled again, grateful for the understanding, for the simplicity, patience, compassion.”
“An empty patch on the ground,” he signed. “We'll make the future a spot where nothing is yet growing.” “An empty spot, where the Universe may plant a seed,” he finished. Song Lan nodded, made the softest hum of agreement.
“Now, now - haven't you heard, Song-daozhang?” he giggled, unsteadily, hauled along in unceremonious jerks. “Treat those who are kind with kindness, but also treat those who are not kind with kindness, only thus is kindness obtaine-... ow.” ← Xue Yang is not above throwing their teachings in their faces for his own benefit, either.
Another thing I enjoy writing is how Xiao Xingchen will very easily fall into familiarity with both Song Lan and Xue Yang when he interacts with them, but they're two very different kinds of familiarity, and he's often not at all aware himself that he's doing it. (They are. Especially the party not currently being interacted with, glaring daggers at the other.) He often just... assumes they'll do a certain thing, and they'll automatically find themselves doing it.
They are both utterly dedicated to him, though they may not realize it themselves, and he certainly doesn't. He doesn't want to take anything for granted with Song Lan, and he doesn't dare trust Xue Yang, but in the little moments of thoughtlessness, they'll just accidentally fall into old familiar roles of attachment, and then blink awake, surprised and disturbed at the ease of it. ♥
I also find it delightful how Xue Yang absolutely despises Song Lan, but is still ready and willing to rope him into herding Xiao Xingchen when necessary - and Song Lan will grudgingly follow his lead, to a point. They may not like it, but they do have a goal in common in keeping their person safe.
There is a certain point to the fact that Xue Yang mostly only mentally refers to a-Qing as ”the girl” in his mind. Nothing quite as strong as actual remorse, but it's a slightly chafing subject he does avoid thinking about. She wasn't supposed to die - hurt, yes, be punished for her perceived part in the destruction of their happy home, but not die - and now that Xiao Xingchen is back, it is odd, at times, that she isn't there as well.
Finally - have some teasers for future written chapters! The apples of the merchant in Tanzhou will make a reappearance, as will the beggar girl by the gate. Xue Yang will write Song Lan a heartfelt poem in an upcoming chapter. Song Lan is made to promise to write a couple of old ladies letters. Xiao Xingchen performs emotional manipulation so badly it offers the other two an unexpected moment of bonding. Xue Yang slips and does an unprompted Good Deed and instantly regrets it. (it does help when Xiao Xingchen smiles at him.)
There are more themes of foreshadowing in there, but I also don't want to spoil things, so I'l leave it at this for now.
As always, if anyone has any specific questions about the Roadtrip, please feel free to ask! I may evade if it's spoilery, but 99.9% of the time, I'll happily flail for hours about this story – and it helps keeping me inspired and writing, too! ♥♥♥
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letterboxd · 4 years ago
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Common Language.
With her third feature, Lingua Franca, now on Netflix, Filipina filmmaker Isabel Sandoval talks to Valerie Complex about undocumented immigrant workers, sensual cinematography, taking narrative risks and Steven Soderbergh’s sexiest film.
“I’m not the type of filmmaker that is into crowd-pleasing and I think that resonates with audiences.” —Isabel Sandoval
Isabel Sandoval’s films have an auteur, European appeal; they take their time. Inspired by cinematic film legends including Chantal Akerman, Wong Kar-wai and James Gray, Sandoval is pushing forward in an industry reluctant to change, creating narratives that speak to her existence, and her experience.
After making two feature films set in her native Philippines (Apparition, Señorita), Sandoval relocates to her adopted hometown, New York City—or at least a small seaside corner of it—for her third film. Lingua Franca follows Olivia (played by Sandoval), an undocumented Filipina trans woman who is looking to secure a green card so she can continue to stay and work in the US. Olivia knows the only way to legal status in present-day America is through marriage, but struggles to find the right person to accept her offer.
Green-card marriages also cost money. Olivia takes a job as a live-in caregiver for Olga (Lynn Cohen), an elderly Russian woman living in Brooklyn’s Brighton Beach neighborhood. She soon finds a love interest in her client’s grandson Alex (Australian actor Eamon Farren), and her future seems solidified. Or is it? As anxiety about deportation mounts, Olivia strives to maintain autonomy in a world that continually rejects her.
The slow, meditative nature of Lingua Franca has already found fans on Letterboxd. “Trans narratives are so often couched in dramatic twists and turns, but here we get something so much more gentle,” writes Connor. Sandoval’s turn as a woman searching for her truth while existing at the intersections of marginalization is also hitting home. “This is the hardest I've been struck by a performance since Jeon Do-yeon's masterful display in Lee Chang-dong's Secret Sunshine back in 2007,” writes Joshua. “I really cannot believe this is Isabel's first performance and I certainly believe that it won't be her last.”
Sandoval instinctively injects concepts of immigration, loneliness, and displacement throughout Lingua Franca in a way that doesn’t overwhelm, but does force deep empathy. “Artfully plays with a lot of themes at once,” agrees Letterboxd member Oluwatayo.
Merriam-Webster’s definition of ‘lingua franca’—“something resembling a common language”—can be interpreted in various ways. For Sandoval, she aims to create her own common language of passion, pain and new beginnings. With migrant workers sharing a common language of homesickness in every corner of the world, I had to ask why she chose New York to be the setting for this emotional drama.
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Isabel Sandoval (as Olivia) and Eamon Farren (as Alex) on Brighton Beach, New York.
Letterboxd: What is it about New York that made the setting work for you and Lingua Franca? Is it the diversity of the environment or…? Isabel Sandoval: You know, growing up in the Philippines, New York was seen as romantic. I wanted to put my stamp and unique views of life in New York City. I wanted to do two things with Lingua Franca: I wanted to do my own New York movie from the perspective and the gaze of a foreigner and an immigrant, and I wanted to make a different kind of film that was quiet and patient. I wrote the script around the time when Trump got elected president, which painted a perfect storm for the premise, story and view of the film. I was also influenced by the James Gray film Two Lovers, which was filmed in Brighton Beach.
That’s not an easy thing to accomplish in a New York movie, yet you manage to do that with such patience and quiet and subtlety. I was shocked. But, you know, New York is not all crazy. There are places that are quiet. Exactly! Especially in Brooklyn. I wanted to capture the different worlds that exist block to block in the film.
Your movie deals with a lot of themes: family, immigration and romance… I’m always drawn to stories with a socio-political point of view about women who are marginalized and forced to make intensely personal decisions. French filmmaker Jean Cocteau once said: “Filmmakers make the same movie over and over”. As you progress and make more films, and you’re being involved as a storyteller, you’re beginning to polish; your style becomes more evident and sophisticated. That’s just the story I felt attached to because it was one I was passionate about and it was the right time to create it.
How do you feel about being embraced by the film community, both domestically and abroad? Tribeca, Locarno, SXSW and Venice are among the festivals that have premiered your films. It’s vindicating to me. My first feature film shot and produced in the US screened internationally, but, with Lingua Franca, it’s come full circle. I think critics now embrace and know that I have a voice and a sensibility that’s worth exploring more. They want to involve a filmmaker with different views, especially in an industry where you need to conform to certain formulas and certain group things in terms of how we approach certain issues or certain things or certain ideas. It truly makes me feel independent.
Art-house film and cinema has long been associated, or at least for the last fifteen years, with really gritty, social-realist drama. I’ve received reviews of my film that criticize it for not being romantic enough. My film captures emotions that are not easy, obvious and straightforward. I’m not the type of filmmaker that is into crowd-pleasing and I think that resonates with audiences.
You are the director, the star, the editor, and the producer of Lingua Franca. How did you stay organized enough to manage all of those tasks? I have one job and that is to make a film and tell a story. I had a clear vision of what I wanted to accomplish, and honestly, it’s me being a stubborn auteur.
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The camera work is really sensual and intimate. What conversations took place between you and cinematographer, Isaac Banks, and what, if any other films, were the inspiration for that look? He and I discussed patience and sensuality often, so that’s why Wong Kar-wai had quite an influence on my work with In the Mood for Love and also Christian Petzold, the German director, who directed Transit and Phoenix.
Lingua Franca places a particular lens on the fragility of Filipino, migrant culture. In the film, Olivia exists at the intersections of race, gender, sexuality, ICE and Covid-19—and you lay that all on the table here. What do you hope the audience will see in Olivia’s story at this time? She’s a trans woman, she is a woman of color, she is an immigrant, but she’s also more than the sum of these individual parts. I know my film demands a lot of intellectual and emotional labor, but it’s important that viewers think deeply and critically about Olivia’s motivations, which may seem contradictory and complex. I want Lingua Franca to be an emotional experience, even if it’s not the most comfortable to watch. If I get one audience member to do the emotional legwork of trying to understand where the main character is coming from, I will feel complete as a filmmaker.
What do you think is the must-see Filipino film, classic or new? [Peque Gallaga’s] Oro, Plata, Mata, which came out in 1982. It is a multi-generational tale set in central Philippines. It’s just a sprawling, dramatic epic, and it’s one of the films that made me want to be a filmmaker. It’s not the most technically polished film, but it takes risks narratively. At the end of the day, it’s not about how big the production is. It’s your willingness to be expansive and explorative as a filmmaker that counts.
What do you consider the sexiest film you’ve ever seen? Out of Sight by Steven Soderbergh.
Out of Sight?! I did not see that coming. Yes! That film doesn’t have any sex scene, but it’s the level of seduction for me. I think sensuality is not necessarily a physical encounter between bodies, but the patience and longing of the moment.
What is your all-time favorite comfort film? A League of Their Own by Penny Marshall. That was the first movie that I saw where I bawled in the last ten minutes of the film.
If I were doing a triple feature with Lingua Franca, what two films would you recommend to watch before or after? I would recommend Ali: Fear Eats the Soul by Rainer Werner Fassbinder, which is another interracial love story between a German woman and a Moroccan immigrant. The other one would be Two Lovers by James Gray, which is set by the beach.
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Isabel Sandoval (as Olivia) and Lynn Cohen (as Olga) in ‘Lingua Franca’.
[Spoiler warning: The final two questions concern aspects of the film’s ending.]
I thought the ending of your film was powerful, because we’re right back at the beginning of Olivia’s journey. Sometimes things don’t work out and you have to pick up the pieces and move forward. Exactly! I also wanted to make a point that even though we are focusing on Olivia, I pulled the camera back to highlight bigger sociological themes. She is one of many immigrants in the script and their fates are not resolved by the end of this movie. I wanted that to be a subtle reminder this type of thing becomes cyclical. Life goes on, it’s just another day. Olivia is a displaced immigrant woman in America where Trump is president. Whereas Olga, who’s Ukranian-Jewish, left her home country fifty or sixty years ago in the aftermath of the Holocaust. I wanted people to see this connection.
Based on the meaning of ‘lingua franca’, was that your original choice or for the title? The definition really fits the story. The film is an invitation to the audience to really pay closer attention to language—the language of things said and unsaid. That probably was also a big point of decision for me to open and close the film with words in Tagalog, which is my native language. A lot of people have asked “why didn’t Olivia accept the marriage proposal?” at the end of the film. Sure, that would’ve been practical, but I invite the audience to look at the language between Alex and Olivia. I challenge them to look beyond Olivia as just an immigrant without papers or as a trans woman looking for love, but this is a woman who is taking her agency back and her ability to determine her life moving forward.
Related content
Leonora Anne Mint’s list of Films by Transgender Writers and Directors.
The Top 100 Filipino Films on Letterboxd.
Jojo Kuneho’s lists of Tagalog movies.
Philippines: The Ultimate List.
Follow Valerie on Letterboxd.
‘Lingua Franca’ is distributed by ARRAY Releasing and is available on Netflix.
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lena-in-a-red-dress · 5 years ago
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Cult of Luthor: Sleepover
The Danvers home almost makes Sam cry. Not for the home she used to have-- there's no similarity between the dark, dusty house she shared with Patricia and this wide, windowed house full of light.
Pictures of Kara and Alex hang on every wall, sit on every surface. The only photos Patricia had of Sam were baby photos, tucked into an album at the back of a closet. Life graces every inch of Kara's home, in the shoes left by the door (Kara's haphazardly, Lena's neat and square), in the magazines cluttering the coffee table, and the rumpled blankets along the back of the sofa, and dirty dishes in the sink.
As soon as they arrive, Kara and Lena divide and conquer. Kara relieves Sam of her backpack, while Lena draws her to the kitchen. She removes a plate from the cupboard and fills it with cut vegetables, pulled from tidy plastic containers already chilling in the fridge, and a sampling of fruits and crackers.
It's a simple offering, but it's the first produce she's had since telling her mom and it's so fresh and so clean that her body cries out in relief and Sam bursts into tears.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Sam waves Lena off, when green eyes snap to her in concern. Kara returns in that moment, surveys the scene, and lifts the sudden tension with a slanted grin.
"What did I say about making pregnant ladies cry, Lena?"
Lena pegs her with a roll of her eyes.
"No, please," Sam pleads, wiping her eyes even as tears continue to flow. "It's not-- you guys have been so great. Just-- hormones, you know?"
It's a cheap excuse not explain that after two months of cheap junk and fast food, a baby carrot is enough to move her to tears. That the kindness she's been shown thus far has come with an unspoken expiration date, and only after Sam asks for it.
Never offered, never given. Simply extracted, through pity and guilt and some social expectation to not turn a pregnant woman out on her ear.
"Thank you," she says simply, ostensibly for the handkerchief (an actual, cloth handkerchief) that Lena hands her, and starts filling her mouth with food.
Kara sits with her at the breakfast bar, filling the space with warm words of mundanity. Lena, on the other hand, remains in constant motion. She unpacks the dishwasher, clears the dirty dishes from the sink, and tidies the mail left in a messy pile on the table in the adjacent dining room.
She remains part of the conversation, deftly splitting her attention between task and Kara, until she dips out with a quick excuse me to start a cycle of laundry.
"She doesn't idle well," Kara says in a quiet voice once Lena is out of earshot. "But once she gets all the doable stuff done, she'll be able to relax some tonight. Hopefully."
Sure enough, Lena returns from the laundry room and seamlessly transitions to starting dinner, asking Sam whether she'd prefer lasagna or tuna casserole.
Sam almost moves to immediately demure, because really she's already imposing enough, but pauses when her stomach churns ominously at the thought of tuna.
"Lasagna sounds amazing," she says finally, feeling a warm flush spread up her cheeks. "Can I help?"
She almost expects Lena to dismiss her, in the manner of a consummate host, but Lena pauses herself, and nods.
"Eliza said she picked up some fresh Italian bread. I was planning to turn it into garlic bread..."
"I can do that!"
Kara pouts. "Aw, that leaves me with salad. That's the worst."
"No one's going to make you eat it, Kara," Lena drawls, already pulling out a box of noodles and a jar of tomato sauce.
Sam smiles at their banter. "I don't mind doing the salad."
Kara gives an exagerrated fist pump. "Yes!"
She does a happy dance all the way to the bread box, and Sam watches with happiness in her heart for the first time in months.
They don't put anything in the oven until later, and Sam tides herself over with an unending supply of cut melon as they all spread their homework across the table and get to work.
Well, Sam and Kara get to work.
Lena breezes through it, her pen flying across the page as she renders her solutions in neat lines. Sam finds herself watching her more than focusing on her own work, and Lena's focus is so intense that she only notices when she finishes the last problem with a final tick mark on her list of tasks. "Did you need help?" Lena asks. "Oh, no, I--" "Just say yes," Kara mumbles distractedly, head in her hand as she glares at her copy of the Crucible. "She teaches it better than the teachers being paid to do it. Trust me." And that's how Eliza finds them when she arrives home, hours later. As she pulls the lasgna out of the fridge and slides it into the preheated oven, she smiles at the sight of them with their heads together, Lena speaking in low tones as she breaks down a complicated formula and explains it in simple terms. She knows Lena's nearly seamless transition to the outside world is temporary. It's the result of her natural curiosity, and not a revocation of her belief in LuthorCorp's mission, or her faith in her brother. But even so, she's grateful for the friends she's making, and the warmth she spreads to those who need it. Sam enjoys dinner, and the momentary normalcy it brings. Once again, Lena's intelligence shines through in the words she exchanges with Eliza about her work. To her surprise, Sam finds herself able to follow along a little. Her afternoons spent in city library were good for something, at least. But Kara's prediction comes true once the table is cleared and the dishwasher run. They all gather in the living room, with books and music and sketches. Kara traces lightly in her sketchbook, and Lena bends over a diagram of SOMETHING from her seat on the floor at the coffeetable. Sam simply basks in the comfort, her eyelids heavy as she sits curled on the couch beneath a soft, warm blanket. When Eliza catches her eye, the woman seems to understand what Sam is unable to vocalize. "I hope you don't mind me asking, Sam," Eliza says, her voice gentle in deference to the warm quiet that fills the room, "but have you been receiving prenatal care?" Kara's pencil doesn't stop moving, but her eyes lift briefly in interest. Lena's head lifts, her features open and soft. Sam nods. "Yeah. I met with the school health nurse, and she pointed me towards some programs for young moms. I'm set on that, at least." Eliza nods. "Do you have any plans for after the baby is born?" "I'm keeping her," Sam states simply. "The rest I'll figure out as I go." She shrugs. "It'll be easier after graduation. Once I can get more hours, I can get an apartment of my own, and think about childcare." It's all she needs to say, but somehow, the words keep pouring out of her. "I've already been accepted into a few colleges, though. NCU offered almost a full ride-- I'd just need to pay for books and materials." Which is still considerable expense. "But I'd have to be a full time student, and I've been trying to figure out how to make it work, but I don't know how I can do it and still earn enough money for an apartment, and childcare, and everything else. But at the same time, I don't want to give up on school because-- what kind of example would I be setting?" Eyes burning, Sam presses her lips shut against the word vomit. No one's asked her before. She's never told anyone. But while doing so lifts tears of futility to her eyes, it also lifts the weight from her shoulders. "Sorry," she mutters quietly, wiping her eyes. "Don't apologize," Eliza soothes from her seat on the far side of the coffee table. "That's a lot of burden to take on all at once, especially without support at home." Swallowing, Sam shoots a glance to Lena, whose features had grown solemn in thought. "But I admire your dedication to see things through, and to set a good example for your daughter. It takes a great deal of strength to do what you're doing. I'm only sorry you're facing it alone." But Sam doesn't feel alone tonight. Especially not when Kara pulls her and Lena upstairs, and not when she makes the fortunate mistake of complimenting Kara on her braided crown. "Lena did it!" Kara practically crows. "Lena, you should do Sam's hair!" "Oh, no, that's okay--" Sam tries to wave it off, but Kara is insistent. "It's already a sleepover," she counters. "Now it'll be a proper one!" Which is how she finds herself on the floor between Lena's knees, slowly loosening under the gentle fingers that comb through her hair. Their talk soon turns to gossip, and Kara regales them with the story of how Barry Johnson once tripped over his own shoelace and knocked out his front tooth. Sam remembers it well, and the memory brings laughter to her chest. She cherishes it, and does her best to stamp this night in her mind-- the first, and likely last time her life has ever felt like the quintessential high school experience. Later, when her hair has been comfortably woven into a horizontal figure eight at the base of her skull, and helps Lena prepare a nest of blankets and pillows on the floor of her bedroom. "I'm not kicking you out of your bed!" "You're pregnant!" Sam glares at her, and Lena relents. "I didn't think you'd want to share, but... I don't mind if you don't?" "There. Solution found. Now bring those blankets back, we're gonna need 'em." They slip into bed, and Sam's surprised that Lena doesn't roll to the far edge of the bed. "I shared a bed for years," Lena confesses a moment later. "I've been told I'm a cuddler, so I apologize in advance--" "I'm sure I'll survive." In the darkness, Sam feels more truth rising to the surface, just as it had earlier that evening. "Thank you for chasing me down today. It's been a long time since... I've missed being a part of things, I guess." Lena doesn't respond for a long moment. When she does, she sounds... hesitant. "I hesitated to mention it in front of the others but... Have you heard of LuthorCorp?" The biggest tech conglomerate inthe world? "Yeah, of course." "Well, they have an outreach program, called LuthorCares. It's dedicated to investing in new potential." Sam snorts. "Potential? Like, head hunters?" "No, I mean-- sorry, that probably sounds weird. I mean, when someone is eager to learn, but feel they don't have the means or opportunity, LuthorCares can help alleviate some of that burden. Members can stay in lodges all over the country for nominal fees, tutition assistance, even childcare." Sam stares at the shadowed ceiling, waiting for a catch that never comes. "You're so smart, Sam. And driven to do the right thing, both for yourself and your daughter. You're exactly the kind of person they want to help realize their potential." It can't be that easy-- the answer to all of Sam's problems delivered on a single platter. "Sorry," Lena apologizes quietly. "I don't mean to pressure you. I just hate that you might be forced to choose between your education and your child, when you could be free to have both." The raw honesty in Lena's voice sends Sam's threatening tears down the sides of her temples, to get lost in the tangle of her hair. Lena's fingers curl around her hand. "You deserve both," she whispers. Sam nods. "I'll look into it," she manages, clearing her throat. "Thank you, Lena." --- The next morning, Sam is amused to discover that in sleep, Lena's definition of cuddling is a face smooshed in the crevice between Sam and the mattress, her breath hot on Sam's back. She groans pitifully when Sam rises, but rebuffs the pocket of cold by pulling the blanket over her head in defiance of the hour. 
"See you tonight, you three," Eliza calls as they gather their things to leave. Sam's stomach clenches, arrested by what she's sure is a slip. But when she looks up, Eliza is looking right back. When the woman nods, Sam returns it with a wobbling dip of her chin before Kara grabs her by the hand and pulls her out the door. 
Continued: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Appendix A
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wolfpawn · 5 years ago
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I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 21
Chapter Summary -  Six weeks have passed without contact and Tom hears the song Ain't No Sunshine, and only one person comes to mind, he looks at Danielle's Facebook page and comes to a small discovery, but he only knows half the story. When Benedict rings him up to vent his frustration, he finds out even more about Danielle and her recent work; but Benedict is not as negative about his feelings for her as Luke was.
Previous Chapter
Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)
Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.
authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.
So apparently Irlam is the stunt co-ordinator for Game of Throne at present but was not for War Horse or The Hollow Crown, but hey, this is fiction, so we can bend the rules a little.
Also, I read before Benedict was having issues with his home and a boiler that was causing an issue with the neighbours, I am not so weird as to Google if that has been sorted.
So we'll just suspend belief a little, okay?
tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog  @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1
If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.
Ain’t no Sunshine when she’s gone
Tom found himself humming along to the song that was currently playing on his radio as he finished rinsing the protein shaker under the tap, cursing that he had to bulk up for another role, hating the long, strenuous process. As he began to sing the lyrics, a face came to his mind and he stopped singing; Danielle. He had not heard from her since he had left his mother’s six weeks before, he had not had the courage to ask her what happened with Paul, nor had he the restraint to hold back when she would inevitably tell him that she had forgiven him and taken him back. His curiosity getting the better of him, he went onto her Facebook page, hoping to see something there. Danielle was not the sort of woman to put up a hundred photos of her life or to put posts that cryptically made reference to her relationships, so he knew whatever it was he would find would be accurate. What he saw made him swallow hard.
There were several photos of her in a city, it wasn’t London, but familiar enough for him to recognise places, then one photo really caught his attention, a picture of her outside a football stadium and the caption ‘The place responsible for Wayne Rooney, level it’ and he recognised it immediately as Manchester. She was smiling happily and laughing in the photos, but all that went through his mind was the fact that someone had to be holding the camera, and only one person came to mind for that.
He was about to click off and throw his phone onto the sofa when a notification came up that she had changed her profile picture. As though wanting to have his heart torn from his chest, he clicked on it, wincing as he looked. It was her, sitting on what appeared to be the Iron Throne from Game of Thrones. Her caption was simply ‘Bow down, Bitches’ and in it, he realised there was a few people tagged in the photo, all of whom he had never heard her mention before, but one name, he recognised. He clicked on it and realised he knew the man from his time on The Hollow Crown and War Horse, he was the stunt coordinator, Rowley Irlam, frowning, he wondered how Danielle had come to befriend him. A post on Rowley’s page caught his eye and he stared at the photo of Danielle, who had her arm around Rowley and another woman, all three smiling into the camera, the drinks on the table in front of them telling him it was some form of party; the caption caught his attention somewhat, ‘The newest member of the Behind The Scene geniuses that makes this great production possible, our new Safety Officer, Danielle Hughes, Keep us safe Danni.’ Tom stared at the words in front of him, ‘Safety Officer’ when had this happened, why did he not know about it? His mother and sister never mentioned anything, and usually, they were the first to discuss anything interesting in Danielle’s life.
He was about to ring his mum when his phone lit up in his hand, Benedict’s name greeting him. Sliding it to answer, he put it up to his ear. “Please tell me you’re in London.” Ben’s voice came over the line.
Tom chuckled slightly, “I am; you sound stressed.”
“I am selling this blasted house and moving to a remote mountain, where I have no neighbours, no moaning and no blasted complaining.” The older actor ranted.
“Still having issues with the boiler I take it?”
“I am going to pull the bloody thing off the wall. I am fit to strangle something.”
“Want to meet for lunch?” Tom offered, wanting to get out of his own head.
“I can’t, I have to wait for an engineer to come out, you’d think that in 2016 all you would have to do is just pull it out, get a proper one put in and not have anyone complain, but no, apparently getting a house done up in North London is nigh on an infringement on Human Rights on your neighbours.”
“You seem stressed.”
“No, really? Thank you for that Tom, I would never have gathered I was stressed.”
“Are Sophie and Christopher around or have they fled to somewhere less stressful, like Syria?”
“You are hilarious, no they are…I think she said Somerset or something, I was so stressed with this, I wasn’t paying full attention, don’t tell her that.”
“I am totally telling her that.”
“Asshole.” Ben retorted deadpan. “She is with her brother for the weekend, and thankfully so, they don’t need to be around this.” He sighed deeply before continuing. “Please keep me company.”
“Fine, I’ll have to see if Elle knows anyone who has riot gear, then I’ll be over.”
“I rather if she knew someone with Valium at this point.”
“I am sure she knows some.” Tom groused.
“What’s that about?”
“What?”
“Your attitude, what’s up?”
“Nothing, I will be there soon, don’t tear up the boiler or kill a neighbour.”
“I’ll try, but I make no promises.” Ben hung up and Tom grabbed his jacket, not caring about changing his slightly messy clothes, considering he was going to Benedict’s semi-construction site of a home.
*
“It’s not too bad.” Tom looked around.
“It still looks like a shithole,” Benedict argued.
“You only have the boiler to deal with, really.”  Tom pointed out.
“I can’t put in the new central heating until I do that, and that means pulling up floorboards.”
“And this is why I would never buy a house not already to my specification,” Tom commented. “It’ll get done.”
“Not if next door has anything to do with it, they are complaining mad, going on to the newspapers about it and everything. If they just gave me a month of work, I would have it sorted and there would be nothing more on it.” Benedict put on the kettle, “as it stands, I can’t get anywhere near sorted.”
“What do they have as their complaint?”
“It is disrupting the peace and tranquillity of the neighbourhood. If the daft cow did anything other than sitting on her arse all day, it wouldn’t even bother her.”
“Ben.”
“What? It’s true.” Ben argued, putting the hot water into the mugs. “I know I am being an ass, but I am just so pissed about it, I just want it done, I mean, I bought this when Sophie was pregnant, we thought it would be done before the wedding, much less when Christopher was born.”
“How is he?”
“Growing like a weed, seriously, do children ever stop?”
“I can only say from the point of view of an uncle, but from my experience, no, it appears not.” He gave a small smile.
Benedict gave him an analytical look. “What’s going on?”
“What?”
“Something is eating you, what is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.” Benedict eyed him carefully, “Whatever it is, you are better off saying it now, here in my house where you have some privacy, not explode it out in public later where you will be heard by everyone.”
“What are you on about?”
“You hold stuff in and ruminate on it until finally, it becomes too much for you and you effectively eject out whatever it is that is bothering you on the nearest person, so spill, what is it?”
“Elle.”
“And what about her?”
“She is in Ireland.”
“And?”
“Why?”
“Well, I may be grasping at straws here, but it may have something to do with the fact that Danielle is Irish, and since it is only about a couple hundred kilometres to out left, it would not be too extreme an idea for her to go there from time to time.”
“Do you remember Rowley Irlam?”
“The name rings a bell.” Ben thought hard of the name.
“He was the stunt coordinator on War Horse.”
“Ah yes, and Hollow Crown too.”
“That guy, he has a post on Facebook.”
“People tend to do that on Facebook,” Benedict was unsure what that had to do anything.
“With Danielle.”
“Right?”
“Saying she is a new member of a team.”
“Well, that makes perfect sense considering…Wait, you don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“That is why she was on set on Sherlock.”
“What?”
“Danielle was working on the set of Sherlock as part of an interview for a job as a Safety Officer, apparently she has been studying for it since she came here.”
“What, she never said anything like that to me.” Tom became indignant.
“She was only really able to apply for things in the past few months apparently. It was sort of hard for her to tell you when you were not talking to her.”
“She never mentioned it before, when she was studying, I could have helped her.”
“Exactly.” Ben pointed out. “She didn’t want your help, she wanted to get there by herself, and not name drop. Besides, dropping your name and mine doesn’t help in production, we come with a nice big fat ‘P’ stamped on us, remember?”
Tom gave a grunt in response. “How do you know all this?”
“I asked her that time on set, I asked her why she was there, she explained everything to me, and when the stunt coordinator was talking to her, he said he had a friend that would be interested in her help for something in Coronation Street, I told her to tell me how she got on, apparently she did well, and said about heading home for a few weeks.
“She was on the set of Game of Thrones.”
Benedict took out his phone and typed for a moment. “Irlam is the stunt co-ordinator for it.”
“So she is on the set there?”
“Atta girl Danielle.” Benedict commended.
“She is doing well.”
“Are you surprised?”
“She never mentioned anything to me.”
“When were you last talking to her?”
“The last time I was home, about six weeks ago.”
Ben groaned. “What did you argue about this time?”
“Nothing, we didn’t argue.”
“Then why weren’t you talking?”
“Because I…it doesn’t matter.” Benedict gave Tom a sceptical look. “What?”
“Nothing.” He stated shaking his head.
“You sound like Luke.”
“Do I want to ask?”
“Luke is implying I am in lust with her and need to get over myself, that it will never work, she’s too normal and that’s why I want her.”
“I think it is a bit more than lust if I’m honest,” Benedict commented. “What do you think?”
“I think I…I have no idea,” Tom admitted.
“I think you need to get yourself sorted.”
“She has a boyfriend.”
“And? No offence to the guy, but he’s not Tom Hiddleston.” Benedict grinned.
“You are not helping me through this at all,” Tom growled.
“I want my friend to be happy, remember, I have said that to you before.”
18 notes · View notes
praphit · 5 years ago
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Another Year, Another Recap - “Have a Coke and a smile... :)”
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So, we're getting to the end, people. We're about to finish off another year. Personally, this year has been immensely better than the last.
I didn't even want to stay up and do any celebrating at the end of 2018. I just wanted to go to bed and be done with that bleepin year. This year has been a hell of a lot better. I hope that all of you can say something similar, but if not, there's always going to bed early, and putting your hope in the next year.
This past Christmas (and all Christmas', really) I spent time doing a lot of hating on Christmas music; it's a valued tradition of mine. I am, however, always surprised to find a few songs each year that don't bother me all that much. This year, one of them was John Legend's "Baby, It's cold outside" ft Kelly Clarkson  
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- a rewritten, sans rapey vibe rendition to boot its 1940's something predecessor.
In this version (at least how I interpret it), both people wanted some action that night. John says all of the right stuff ("I'll call you a car", "maybe you SHOULD go"), creating a safe environment, and most importantly, not coming off as sleazy and rapey. He's also protecting himself with this recording:) But, let's be clear... he wants some, and he wants it bad! While Kelly, also wants some, but doesn't want to come off as being a hoe. Nobody wants to be labeled a hoe.  So, she says all of the right things as well ("My dad and brother are waiting for me", "I've gotta visit my sick grandma", "Gotta get home to the KIDS") But, at the end of the night, they both make a decision to sing to one another "Baby, It's cold outside, so let's stay in and BLEEP." That's how you do it! No guilt! No #METOO! No wife and kids around. All is well:) Divorces are still rising, and more older people (as well as old as bleep people) are on dating apps than ever before. Consider this song a Christmas gift from John & Kelly to you.
Sexiest man alive in 2019 btw
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Congrats. Classic coming-up-out-of-the-water sexy.
There has been some good music in 2019. Good stuff happening. Also some sad and weird stuff happening in music - all things balance out, I suppose.
GOOD:
Lizzo
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I am here for all things Lizzo.
SAD & WEIRD:
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Maroon 5's Super Bowl performance. It wasn't even really M5's fault; they simply did what they always do. It was more a poor choice by the NFL. A boring and awkward performance. There was a time when all anybody wanted was a shirtless Adam Levine- both women AND men. Even times when he wasn't performing, he would show up places, some random person would announce to everyone "Don't worry, Adam WILL be taking off his shirt tonight." Talk about ME TOO. It was so bad that the old, white, slaveowners of the NFL hired Jay-Z (one of the blackest icons we have) to come and save them. We'll see how that turns out.
GOOD & WEIRD:
Tyler, The Creator - "IGOR"
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One of my fav projects of the year. Tyler, the Creator is an odd dude - I mean this as a compliment. I love how Hip-Hop has evolved. There's a lot more room nowadays to be yourself, no matter how outsiders might deem your behavior as weird (sometimes, others NOT saying this as a compliment). I love his creativity, and hope he continues to inspire other artists (especially in hip-hop) to be creative. Heeeee also says stuff like this "I like girls, but I have sex with their brothers." But, also uses the word "gay" as an insult. Who knows?? There's a lot to unpack there.
SAD:
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In other news, Camila Cabello might be a racist. Y'all can look it up if you'd like, but some posts of hers resurfaced. I'm a fan of hers, and checked out the posts for myself, thinking "People are prob just overreacting" - they're not, it's bad. She has apologized, saying the whole "I'm older and wiser now" thing. The prob with that is she's only 22.
GOOD & BAD, I GUESS:
ADELE
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It's always good to see Adele out and about. These holiday pics show that's she's still alive (I get concerned, cuz she tends to disappear for a while) and apparently a lot thinner. This of course stirs men to say men type things, women to go on the attack, and all genuine compliments towards her to get lost. The good news is, Adele seems to be getting pretty chummy with Santa, and everyone knows that St. Nick is a heartbreaker. Adele should be spurned and back in the studio writing amazing tunes soon enough.
WEIRD:
Kanye
These pics say it all. 
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... that being said, I love his new music (which is how I stamp all of my conversations about Ye).
GOOD:
Billie Eilish! 
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Now (like many), one of my fav artists. 
BAD:
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She just turned 18, so of course, us men being ourselves again say things like "She's 18 now. You know what that means." Honestly, I'm still trying to figure out what that means. Nothing says crossing-over into womanhood quite like being objectified.
Speaking of 2019 pervs - R.KELLY!
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We can throw MJ and... what the hell, I'll just throw Spacey in there as well (his documentary is coming soon enough, I'm sure).
We were all enthralled by these two docuseries. It's interesting how different races respond to MJ. Both see him as... you know, but most black people are still listening to his music. White people on the other hand are ready to riot every time someone plays one of his songs... except around Halloween - gotta have "Thriller".
We love depressing television.
There was "Chernobyl" as well as "When they see us"
Movies too -
"Joker"
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I love this movie, but it's about a homicidal clown, struggling with mental illness.
"Us"
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I love this movie, but it's about classism and marginalization.
"Endgame"
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It's largely about grief.
It's the best movie of the year, as far as I'm concerned!
It should win all awards!
ALL OF THEM!
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Best Horror
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Best Comedy
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Best Romance
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Remember when he sent the message to his wife? Cute, right?
Personally, I think he and Nebula were banging in each other.
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... I think that story is going to come out some day. C’mon... they were up in space, alone... they both thought they were going to die. She was like “OMG, I’ve always wanted to bang Robert Downey Jr. 
He was like “I don’t blame you.”
But, afterwards, he was like 
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 - you know? He felt all bad, because he’d never get to do that again (that was the last of his energy). Annnnd also because he cheated. Which led to that cute recording for his wife. SEE, it’s all connected!
Best actor in Josh Brolin (Thanos) - the range of emotions (satisfaction, terror, humility, revenge, arrogance, beatin ass, defeat) Leo and Brad Pitt ain't have to do all of that!
Best Actress... hmm.. idk about this one. Many say J.Lo deserves an Oscar for her performance in "Hustlers" - a movie made for strippers, by strippers.
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Exotic dancers are making a comeback! Maybe one day, stripping will be going in the same direction marijuana is - just something people do. No more shame! You can actually make a decent living at it - ain't that right, Stormy?
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And who can forget this J.Lo quote "This city, this whole country, is a strip club. You've got people tossing the money. and people doing the dance."
There have also been plenty of things in 2019 that I have not understood:
1) Hatin on Greta
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Greta - trying hard to do what she believes will make this world a better place for us all.
Certain people - "Shut that bitch up! She's crazy!"
2) Hatin on Megan Rapinoe
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MP - leading a soccer team to a World Cup victory, being outspoken for women's rights and gay rights, having awesome purple hair, and trying to be the best leader and athlete she can be.
Certain people - "Shut that bitch up! She's Crazy! Equal pay my ass!"
3) Popeyes Chicken Sandwich
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 - the gov't test for a new crack epidemic. Sadly, I never got to partake.
4) Allison Mack
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- This whole story began being unveiled in 2018, but continued through this year. I still don’t understand how this story has not gotten more attention. Some of y’all don’t even know what I’m talking about.... google it, and be horrified.
5) BTS (and K-pop in general)
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-I love them, but... our country's K-Pop fetish has gotten kinda out of hand. All kinds of artists are trying to share the spotlight with them. Next, we're going to see them team up with Kendrick Lamar.
6) TikTok - I just don't get it. What’s the difference? 
7) Cancel Culture
To me all cancel culture is silenced by Trump being our president. Where was all of this righteous indignation when we voted him into office? You might say "I didn't vote for him." Yeah, but, WE did - Idk what that says about us, but it's prob not good.
It doesn't even really work - Louis CK is currently selling out venues for an unapologetic tour. I'm not even saying that it SHOULD work (in SOME cases). I'm simply saying that it doesn't work (in most cases). But, perhaps the fear of it working is enough. Or perhaps we should think through how we spend our anger.
BUT, enough of that! It's time to pass out this year's PRAPHIE AWARD!
Here are the noms:
Jordan Peele
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Pedro the turtle
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(no need for context, just know he’s awesome)
Baby Yoda
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 (btw - studies show that if you have access to "The Mandalorian" and you AREN'T watching it, you're an asshole. This is not ME talking, this is science)
Megan Rapinoe (who I’ve already mentioned)
Flying Elbow Guy (Again, this requires no context. It’s Flying Elbow Guy! There is a baseball player who’s name I can’t remember. He took on a whole team, and... you know what - that’s too much exposition. It’s Flying Elbow Guy!
  Keanu Reeves
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Annnnnnnd! It’s...
...
KEANU!
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This year:
Of course JW, Toy Story 4, Cyberpunk 2077, “Always be my Maybe”, plus we found out that he’s down for The Matrix 4, John Wick 4, and Bill & Ted. CRAZY!
Also my BAMF of the year (see previous post)!
We love Keanu Reeves so much, that he's allowed to murder as many people as he wants (as John Wick).
We'll get mad if an actor who's not handicapped is playing someone who is, we'll get mad about whitewashing (as we should), we'll get mad if things are too sexualized, we GOT MAD at "Joker" for predicted violence. But, Keanu can murder all he wants:)
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(See the scene above? - that was a McDonald’s before he showed up)
He found love as well. Women are loving that he chose someone closer to his age. Honestly, Idk why it matters. I'd still love this man, even if he were dating 22 year old, racist ass Camila Cabello.
But, he's viewed by some as the perfect man. I disagree. I don’t think that he’s merely the perfect man, but the perfect human.
His career and popularity paths are unique. No one would call him a... GOOD actor, but look at him! And he seems like a genuinely, awesomely, good person. And whatever "good person" means to you, he's at the top! We should all (men and women) be a lil more like Keanu in 2020.
Let's all be as lovable as we can, so we may all get away with as much as we can:)
With each new year, I challenge myself with a slogan to live by. In 2020, it's going to be this - 
From Eddie Murphy’s “Raw”- Richard Pryor’s advice to Eddie, concerning Bill Cosby 
Telling certain people in my way "To have a Coke and a smile, and shut the bleep up." Sometimes, I might need to be the one to do this, rather than say it - we'll see.
Here was the runner-up slogan (his response)
Magical.
Happy New Year, Everyone! Enjoy yourselves. Be less of an asshole. And be safe... enough to at least make it TO 2020.
Much love!
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razzle-zazzle · 5 years ago
Text
A Perfect Day - Mystreetia Part 1 Chapter 1
1293 Words
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It was a perfect day for a walk.
The sun was shining, not a cloud in sight, and a refreshing breeze wove its way through the alleyways and roads of Solaria, just enough to cool the bustling plaza without scattering merchants’ wares to the wind. Like a brilliant shining jewel atop a dragon’s hoard, the royal castle of Phoenix Drop shimmered in the light cast upon it as it towered over the horizon. Walls and towers of gleaming amethyst and quartz stood watch over the bustling city below, their majesty and grandeur reminding the citizens of the glory of the kingdom of Phoenix Drop, small as it was.
However, while its outside appearance spoke of riches and beauty, the goings on inside crafted a different story. For within one of these ivory towers, the queen and her daughter were causing quite the ruckus, while the Court Alchemist and Head Scribe watched on, unfazed. Normally, the Scribe would be recording the interactions of the royal family for future generations, but it was determined that this argument—which was quickly becoming all-too common of an occurrence—was not exceptionally noteworthy.
“Young Lady, if I catch you attempting to sneak out again this kingdom will need a new heir!” The Alchemist nonchalantly dodged the chair that was thrown, while the small group of servants present in the room scrambled to catch the high-speed furniture before it could shatter against the walls.
“Well maybe if you weren’t so overbearing I wouldn’t feel the need to leave every now and again! It’s always so boring here!” The Princess stamped her foot indignantly, her tiara lying discarded on the floor where she had tossed it. She was still so much like a child, her face contorted into a pout as she ranted and raved about how suffocating her life was, occasionally tossing some trinket or another from her nightstand at her mother, who replied in turn while lecturing her daughter about the responsibility of a royal heir. The room was beginning to look like a warzone, and it was all the servants could do to keep things in one piece while their superiors raged.
“I mean, I can’t even trust you to go out on your own—you couldn’t even remember your way to the banquet hall yesterday!”
“We never use the banquet hall! Of course I couldn’t find it!”
“You get lost going down a one-way street! You’re not capable—”
“Because you never let me try—”
“And if I can’t trust you not to get in trouble within your own home, how can I know you’d be safe going out?”
“YOU NEVER LET ME DO ANYTHING!”
“BECAUSE YOU NEVER WANT TO DO WHAT YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO! You don’t pay attention to your lessons, you run off at a moment’s notice, you’ve chased off more than half of your tutors, and if any of the staff take their eyes off of you for even a moment, you’re trying to sneak outside the walls!” The Queen punctuated her argument by straightening her crown and fixing her hair, before she continued. “Aphmau, sweetie, you need to understand. You are the only heir this tiny kingdom has, and—”
“The only heir this kingdom will ever have, because Dad isn’t around anymore.” Aphmau joined in, having heard the speech before. “I know that. But it gets so stifling here sometimes. I’ve never even—”
“Been outside the castle walls. I know.” Sylvanna’s expression softened, and she pursed her lips before continuing. “But you’re still so young, and if anything were to happen to you…” Sighing, Sylvanna schooled her expression. “You are to return to your studies until further notice. We can go on a walk later.” And with that, she left the room, the servants hurrying after her.
The Alchemist turned to glance at the sulking princess one last time, before turning to follow the Queen. With any luck, the princess would return to her studies after sulking for a few hours, and things would once again return to the usual quiet.
Aphmau watched as her mother left, trying not to cry. Wiping away her tears, she reached down and grabbed her tiara; she moved to place it in its usual perch, but thought better of it.
With a sinister grin, Aphmau moved to grab her traveling cloak from the closet, as well as some of her less extravagant clothes. If she waited for her mother to finish holding court, then it’d be dark by the time they were ready for a walk. Which meant one thing.
Aphmau would have to take matters into her own hands.
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“Your Majesty, if I may?” The Alchemist entered the room slowly, respectfully. Sylvanna looked up from her paperwork as one of her closest friends and advisor stepped in the room.
“You needn’t be so formal with me, Terry. We’re friends.” Terrance raised an eyebrow at the remark, and Sylvanna countered his expression with one of her own.
“Of course. Well, you see, I came to tell you that perhaps you need to loosen the boundaries you have set on your daughter.”
“Oh?” The Queen asked, in a tone that implied she would not like to be having this conversation. But Terrance pushed on.
“Now, I understand why you’d have trouble letting go. Believe me, I feel the same about my son. But you have to realize that Aphmau’s not a little girl anymore, and that at this age it’s only natural for her to be curious about her kingdom.”
“It’s not just that.” Sylvanna interjected. “She gets in so much trouble, and she never knows how to handle herself.”
“Yes, because she’s never gotten the chance to even try. You have to let her grow on her own, Sylvanna. At least let her meet other children. She’s going to go crazy if she stays locked up in this castle. Travis and Lucinda are much the same way. All children are.”
“I… I suppose I have been a little overbearing. I… yes. I will organize a meeting between Aphmau and your son. Tomorrow. Your son does have free time tomorrow, right? Hyria won’t be keeping him long?”
Terrance nodded, answering her query. “Yes, I believe Travis will be free tomorrow. But even if he wasn’t, you still have the final say.”
Sylvanna nodded, suddenly looking as old as she was. “Yes, that’s… that’s good. I’ll send one of the staff to let Hyria know. You can go on your way now, Terry.” She waved her hand, looking back down at the documents she had been reading as Terrance left, a soft smile on his face.
+=+=+=+=+
Okay, so maybe leaving the castle to explore the town unsupervised was a mistake.
Aphmau was beginning to regret her split-second decision after being pushed aside by some rushing passerby for the fifth time; this one was a dark-haired boy who gave her a dirty look when he bumped into her. “Watch it.” He muttered, before continuing on. Aphmau huffed, returning the dirty look in full force as she watched his retreating back. Some people!
Things began to wear on Aphmau as she continued to wander aimlessly, desperately trying to ignore that she was horribly, horribly lost. To someone used to the high halls and extensively decorated corridors of the castle, all the dusty streets and narrow alleyways looked the same to Aphmau.
Stumbling into an alcove, Aphmau pulled her hood up as she struggled to hold back her tears. She was lost, and nobody would notice she was missing for hours…
A bell rang out, and suddenly the street beyond the little alley was full of people jostling to get to the square. Aphmau, startled by the crowd, hunched her shoulders and curled up further. She just wanted to go home.
“Hey, are you okay?”
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This was going to be longer, but I had hit the perfect spot to cut the chapter in half, so I did. I tried something new with the dialogue in Aphmau and Sylvana's argument, but I'm not sure if it worked as well as I'd hoped.
I was planning to do an illustration or two, but finals came up and all of the scenes I wanted to illustrate are in the next half, which is actually still unfinished. I did say progress would be slow, so at least I'm not setting everyone up with false expectations!
Next time: A griffon, three irresponsible teenagers, and a flight around the kingdom that ends poorly (also Sylvana rides a pegasus)
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365daysofsasuhina · 6 years ago
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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Thirty: Something Witnessed ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina, gun ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]
She should have listened to that gut instinct this morning that said to stay home. But staying home doesn’t get her errands run, as much as she hates to admit it. Days off can’t be spent completely idle. There’s groceries to get, bills to pay, mail to pick up, and that’s just what’s out and about. Then there’s laundry, dishes, cleaning, lunch prep for work tomorrow...no time to lay about!
So, after a (slightly late) breakfast, Hinata changes into something suitable for the weather (sweater dress, coat, leggings, and boots), and takes a bus downtown. Choosing to stand, one hand holds a rail as the other scrolls idly through social media on her phone. Apparently there’s been a string of robberies in her city...not that it’s anything particularly new. Seems there’s always something going on. Still, they’ve mostly been on the other side of town, so she tries not to worry about it.
First stop is her post office box, standing in the lobby and checking it before she leaves. Spam, junk, ads...all get tossed into a waste bin before she stuffs the necessary things into her purse. More bills...there’s always more bills.
Speaking of, she heads into the other side of the post office and gets a few stamps: they’re all she needs before she can mail in said bills. Pouting at them, Hinata slips them through the proper slot with a sigh. Maybe someday she’ll win the lottery.
Ha.
Last stop, groceries...her least favorite thing to do. Not having a car really stinks...no trunk or back seat to stow them in. No, instead she has to juggle public transportation costs, and not ending up with too much to carry in one trip. Leaving the bus stop behind, she replies to a text from Ino when a commotion up ahead catches her attention.
Someone lurches out of a store, staggering into a small crowd of people. As they do, an alarm sounds from inside - wait, is that a robbery?!
For a moment she just stares in horror, never having seen anything like this before. Not in person, anyway! But as her grip steadies on her phone, she thinks: phone! Video! Fingers scramble against the touch screen, managing to turn on the camera and get it to focus.
By now, everyone else has scattered. A van pulls up to the curb with a screech, and two more people leave the store behind. From what she can see, it’s some fancy tech one. Even something small they’d grab would likely be worth a few hundred bucks. Glancing between her phone and the scene with her own eyes, she manages to stick herself behind a concrete set of stairs, peeking out and still filming.
“C’mon, c’mon! The cops’ll be here any minute, y’moron!”
A final person - she can’t even tell what they are, all dressed in dark baggy clothes with ski masks pulled down over their faces - manages to flee outside as an employee gives chase. They leap into the back of the van as one already inside pulls a pistol and fires a few shots. Glass shatters and people scream, the employee among them as one shot grazes his upper arm. Tires squeal, smoking as they make to pull away.
Hinata just manages to zoom in and get the license plate ID before they lurch back into traffic.
As they do, civilians swarm back to the scene, police sirens approaching from a distance. Stopping her video, Hinata finds herself panting, having released a held breath.
...holy crap!
Staggering out of her hiding place, Hinata can’t help but join the crowds out of some kind of herd instinct, trying to see the damage. The shop window is shattered, a few bullet holes in the door. A woman already kneels beside the injured man, telling him to calm - she’s a nurse. Supplies are fished out of a bag as the cops finally arrive. Two cars, each spilling out two officers.
“All right, all right! Everyone back up - we need to clear the scene and get some evidence!” Quickly they work to set up a perimeter around the store front, including the road where the van had been parked. Tire tracks are a bit smudged, but might help.
Clinging to her phone, Hinata follows as the crowds are pushed back behind the line. She tries to pipe up - she got the whole thing on video! - but no one seems to be listening! Over and over she attempts to push her way to the front, only to be lost due to her lack of height and forward nature. So, she gives up and starts going around the perimeter.
Along the curb, a cop is taking photographs of the tire marks. No one cares about that when there’s a nurse tending a wounded man, so he’s mostly left unmolested. He only glances up when she quietly offers an, “E-excuse me…?”
“Yeah?”
She holds up her phone from behind the tape. “I - I was there when, um...when the robbery happened! I took a video with my phone. D-do you think it would help? I got the license plate number, and -”
Immediately looking interested, he approaches the tape, ducking under and stepping up beside her. “Show me.”
A bit flustered as he leans against her to look, Hinata manages to start the playback. The first few seconds are rather shaky, and then again when she moves behind the stairs. The second two robbers emerge, their faces too small and obscured to be of any use. But then, as the last person exits and the shots ring out (she flinched a bit, the footage blurred), there’s a zoom at the back of the car.
“Here, pause on that.”
She does as asked, and he starts jotting down notes: the plate ID, the car model, and a few distinguishing marks, including a dent along the left side.
“Does...does that help?”
“Yes ma’am - would you mind sending that to my phone? It’s best I have a copy in case we need to analyze it further.”
“O-of course!” Doing as much as he pulls out his own device to share contact details, she dares to ask, “Are...are these the same people that have been in the news?”
“We can’t know for sure yet, but the MO matches, as does the number of witnessed fugitives. For now, there’s not a lot I can officially say. Doesn’t help I’m a bit low on the proverbial totem pole. But your footage will be a great help, ma’am.”
Hinata flushes pink. “Oh, please don’t call me ma’am - there’s no need! I’m Hinata. Hinata Hyūga.”
“Sasuke Uchiha,” he replies, giving her a small smile. Dark eyes glance to the crowd, and he can’t help a scowl. “A lot of use filming the aftermath will do besides get hits online. As glad as I am for phones, like in your case...a lot of it’s pretty sensationalized.”
“Y-yeah...well, I hope you can catch those people. Is the employee going to be okay…?”
“He should be - the bullet just nicked him. The casings should help us ID the culprits, too. It was dangerous for him to go after them, but...admittedly, they wouldn’t have shot if he didn’t. Thankfully that nurse was in the crowd. He’s pretty much patched up now, but procedure means we have to have him taken to the hospital and get a statement, as with any firearm crime. But he’ll be fine.”
Dark brows wilt worriedly, seeing him stand and bashfully thank the nurse, who waves away the praise. “Well...that’s good.”
With the video successfully downloaded, Sasuke puts his phone back in his pocket. “Thank you. Do you mind giving a statement, too?”
“Certainly! If it will help.”
“It will. And we might have to call you about some follow up questions.”
“That’s all right. Though...I might be at work.”
“We can always schedule a follow up for a better time. I’ve got your contact details in my phone, so I’ll get ahold of you if we need to get anything else from you.”
“Oh! O-okay!”
The interview he gives her is pretty brief, and seems rather standard. Hinata answers as best she’s able - it all happened so fast, and most of what happened was better remembered by her phone than by her brain.
“Okay, awesome - I’ll let you know if and when we need to talk to you again. Knowing how things go, you’ll probably be hearing from me. Seems like I do all the legwork around here.”
Hinata can’t help a soft giggle. “Well, you’re doing a very good job! At least, a-as far as I can tell. You’re very...professional!”
That earns a smile and a short snort. “Well, I try to be...got a family tradition to uphold and all. But even that means still going through the rookie stages.” Tucking away his notes from her statement, he gives her another grin. “Now, try to stay out of any more trouble today, miss Hyūga. I’d hate to have to run into you twice...at least, in regards to crime.”
She laughs...and then...pauses. Did...did he just -?
“I’ll contact you about the footage once we’ve had a chance to go over it. Stay safe until then.”
“I...I will.” A little off-kilter, Hinata lingers for a moment before...going on her way to her next errand. The excitement’s over, after all. And she still has groceries to get.
Nibbling her lip with her teeth, she gives her phone a glance, quickly tapping through to her contacts page. Yes, he went ahead and added himself into her phone, too. Well...at least she’ll know when he’s calling.
...and Hinata can’t help but think she won’t mind when he does.
     Aaand another late night, but I had a pretty long day irl - forgive me!      This was a fun prompt! Took a little brainstorming with a friend, but the end result turned out pretty good, I think! Poor Hinata - all she wants is to run some errands! But hey...she still got a cute guy's number. It still counts if he's a cop right? x3      Aaanyway, that'll do it for tonight! Thanks so much for reading!
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halfway-happyyy · 7 years ago
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Fever Pitch
Anonymous request: Bill and his co-star are doing a “simulated” sex scene, they get aroused, are covered by blankets and decide to do it for real. *So this is pretty long! But if you read until the end, you will not be disappointed! Hope you all enjoy!*
Warnings: s m u t, nsfw, swearing, etc. 
You cup a hand over your right ear in an attempt to hear the person on the other line better, but it’s of no real use. You’re going to have to leave this party to speak to him. “Hold on a second Bill, I can’t hear you.” You inform the man on the other end and snake your way through the mass of gyrating bodies to the outside patio. When you can confirm that you’re actually alone, you continue talking.
 “I need a ride back to my trailer.” You bring the end of a menthol cigarette to your mouth, inhaling deeply.
 The silence is punctuated by an all too audible sigh out of Bill. “It’s fucking 2:47 in the morning on the morning of our final scene together and you need a ride back to your trailer? Where are you?”
 You drop the butt of the cigarette to the concrete floor beneath you and stamp the heel of your buckled boot over it. “Got invited to a crew party about a half an hour outside of the city.” You wait patiently for the expletive that inevitably falls from his mouth.
 “Fuck Y/N,” Bill hisses. “I’ll see you in forty five minutes.”
 “You’re angry with me,” You observe, picking at something miniscule on your sweater.
 Bill sighs sharply, shaking his head. “Not angry. I’m pretty exhausted; and picking you up at three thirty in the morning isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.”
 You glare at the dashboard in front of you, wanting more than anything for the car ride to be over. “Next time I will refrain from asking you to pick me up. Everyone else here was too far gone, otherwise I wouldn’t even have considered it.”
 “I shouldn’t have even been surprised.” Bill murmurs bitterly under his breath.
 “So how did filming go today?” You ask, in a desperate attempt to change the subject.
 You’re at a stoplight and watch closely as Bill closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I fucking hate it when you do that.”
 You tilt your head to the side because you honestly don’t know what he’s on about. “Do what?”
 “Change the subject when a conversations gets too uncomfortable for you!” Now he’s angry.
 You roll your eyes and reply with, “Oh that! I apologize Bill. You were right. I only call you when I need a ride from you… or just need something in general. I honestly didn’t think it was a big deal, but clearly it was much more of a burden on you than I thought.”
 “You drive me fucking crazy sometimes.” Bill sighs, his gaze trained solely on the stretch of road in front of him. You’re about to say something along those lines as well, but you stop yourself to stare directly at him. There is something incredibly sexy about the way men drive; the way they throw their focus completely into the job. In this instance, Bill’s left hand holds the steering wheel loosely in the 6 o’clock position, and his right hand rests gently around the gearshift. His brunette hair is messy and unkempt; a dark grey long sleeved button-up and dark denim jeans over a pair of black converse. It’s probably the alcohol and you shouldn’t be feeling this way about your co-star but you don’t think Bill’s ever looked more attractive than right now.
 “You look so fucking good right now, Bill.” You whisper. 
Bill breaks his concentration from the road to gape at you, his green eyes wide. “The fuck, Y/n?”
 “So fucking good,” You smirk and notice as his gaze travels south when you reach across the center console of the car to fiddle with the buckle of his belt.
 “Y/n, so help me god, don’t you fucking dare.” He warns, as his gaze darts back to the road again.
You grin in spite of yourself because this is exactly where you want him. “Don’t I dare do what, Bill? You look so fucking hot right now, I honestly don’t think I can help myself.” You unbuckle the belt from the loops and slowly pull down the zipper. You haven’t felt this properly turned on in months and the urge to touch Bill’s cock is almost overpowering. Your brain glosses over how many times you’ve thought of yourself with him; how many nights you’ve spent screaming his name into the palm of your hand just to keep quiet. “I’ve thought about this too many times,” Your voice is low and slightly raspy as your fingers dance at the waistband of his boxers. Bill glides to a halt at another red light and peers at you from his side of the car, his mouth slightly ajar.
Suddenly everything feels warm; the temperature of your skin has risen almost unbearably. The urge to rip your clothes from your body is real. With a quick inhale of breath, you’re taking Bill’s already throbbing cock in your hand, stroking it slowly. You watch as he swears loudly, throwing his head back against the leather headrest of the car. After a reasonable amount of teasing, you lower your mouth onto the head of his cock, taking his balls into your free hand. “Jesus fuck!” Bill groans, and you fight the urge to giggle against his cock. “You’re going to get us killed, Y/n.” You shake your head, swirling your tongue around the tip and then proceeding to deep throat his cock again. This particular action succeeds in keeping quiet, and all he can do now is occasionally buck his hips against your mouth.
 “You taste so fucking good,” You grin up at Bill from under long lashes and take him back into the palm of your hand again, stroking up and down in long, hard motions. Bill’s having an extremely hard time trying to pay attention to the road, and you can tell by the passing signs that you’re almost back to the movie set.
 “You want me to come for you?” Bill asks, thrusting his cock into the tight palm of your hand. You nod eagerly. “Then get that beautiful mouth back on there, babe.” And you do exactly as you’re told.  You’ve got a hand around the base of his penis, and you’re deep throating the rest. It takes seconds before he’s practically screaming into the air around you; his come shooting down your throat in long, thick spurts. “Fucking Christ,” Bill gasps once he’s regained the ability to speak again. “Had I known how fantastic you were at blowjobs three months ago, this would have happened sooner…”
                                                                     *
“So remember - you two are under a blanket, he’s whispering god knows what in your ear, and we want… we want raw, real emotion. This sex scene is a huge part of the dynamic of the two characters and we want it to be as authentic as possible.” You and Bill are lying side by side in bed, the director stands at the foot of the bed, explaining in great detail how he wants this next scene to pan out. “Alright, try not to think about all of us,” He gestures around to the few camera crew and stylists still left on set for the night. “And uh, just do your own thing! And… action!” 
In one swift motion, Bill is on top of you, his lips pressed gently to the shell of your ear. “You and I are going to do this for real, baby.” He whispers. “Nod your head slightly if that’s what you want.” You drop your head against the down pillow behind you, arching your back into his already growing erection. “I’m just going to take that as a yes.” He smirks against the warm skin of your neck. His fingers dance their way down the expanse of your exposed ribs, past your belly, to the waistband of the silk nudies the production company has you wearing. “You ready?” He asks quietly. Before you can even respond, he’s got his underwear down and he’s buried himself to the hilt inside of you. It takes everything in your power not to scream out right then and there, and you have to remind yourself that if you’re caught, you both could be thrown off the movie. You’re sure the director is saying something to the pair of you, but with the feeling of Bill’s cock tight inside of you, you’re powerless to do anything other than moan quietly. 
“I knew you’d feel fucking amazing but this is just…” Bill trails off as he begins to buck a little harder against you. He pulls out a few seconds after that, to kiss down the length of your belly, your lower abdomen and the top of your pussy. He’s fully under the protection of the covers now, and you gasp as he blows a cool stream of air, over your heated flesh. You grind against him involuntarily; anything to just feel a little friction. He begins to lap at you, pressing smooth, round circles into your clit with this tip of his tongue. He only has to repeat this motion a few times before you’re falling apart for him, coming hard into his mouth. He places a kiss to your still sensitive core, kissing up your thighs and finally filling you up again. He’s got one hand behind your head and the other hand behind your back, holding you closer to his body. He’s rocking his hips in deliberately slow, hard circles against you. He’s got his head buried in your neck and you can tell by the sounds he’s making that he’s extremely close to coming. “This pussy feels too good, baby,” He groans against you quietly. “You’re going to make me come so hard…”You match your thrusts with his own, and that’s all it takes before he’s moaning hard into your shoulder, letting the waves of the orgasm wash over him and into you. He’s quiet for a moment while he regulates his breathing, you’re pretty sure he just likes the feeling of your hand on his back. 
“That was uh… that was great. No additional takes needed…” The director trails off his sentence, scratching the back of his head with his pen. “We’ll just evacuate the premises to let you guys get dressed.”
Bill glances up at you through thick lashes, he’s positively beaming. “You were an absolute dream to work with and I can’t wait to do it again.” You simply throw your head back, eliciting a contented giggle. 
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nocteverbascio · 7 years ago
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sam/alex - timeout’s over (rated t)
Pairing: Alex Danvers/Sam Arias Summary: Agent reign prompt - Kara and Lena’s kid is on the same soccer team as Ruby, and one day Alex has to fill in as coach (just moved to national city to be close to Kara and her niece), and Sam is going off on how hot the new coach is to Kara and Lena without knowing alex is Kara’s sister... Sending this to agent reign writers.... A/N: for @mouser003​ and @exerciseindisguise​ also see ao3 for more notes
ao3 link
Sam is late. Again.
It honestly isn’t a surprise to anyone that Sam is late to a soccer game. She makes it to all of them somehow, some way, because it’s her daughter. Not to mention, the guilt trip from her daughter cuts way deeper than German investors threatening to pull their funding. At least for German investors, she can get her way with an intimidating glare and a stern reminder of who was investing in whom.
She throws herself into the empty lawn chair beside Lena. “How did you deal with Japan so quickly?” she asks, breathless from sprinting from the parking lot.
Lena rolls her eyes and takes a large swig out of her water bottle. “I’m barely on time as you are,” she responds before reaching beside her for a water bottle to toss onto Sam’s lap. “They didn’t have a concept of time zones, so they kept dragging things on.”
Sam takes a healthy swig of water, finding relief after a long meeting. She can feel her stomach start to grumble as she looks around for Ruby. “Where’s Kara?”
“She’s grabbing the KT tape for the girls,” Lena answers before looking around. “She should be back soon. Apparently, the girls from Star City like to play a bit rough.” She narrows her eyes down the field as the girls run back and forth after the ball.
Sam scoffs in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? They’re only twelve, they don’t need to take this so seriously. What did the coach do?” She looks around for J'onn. “If Ruby gets hurt I swear to”---who--
“Got the other girl booted surprisingly.”
“Who is that?” Sam asks with wide eyes as they fall on a beautifully tall woman with short auburn hair wearing a Manchester U jersey and skin tight black jeans. She completely forgets what she was asking Lena as her eyes follow the woman she’s never seen before.
“That’s Alex, she’s filling in for J’onn today,” Lena answers. She takes a moment before she realizes the dumb look on Sam’s face as her eyes follow Alex.
Sam feels her throat go dry because Alex stands tall with the whistle dangling from her lips and fit, muscled arms crossed over the clipboard of plays. Her eyes are trained up and down the field with such an intensity to win the game. It’s not just attractive, but wow. She is really, really hot.
“Sam!”
“Oh my god, did I just say that out loud?” Sam shoots her eyes towards Lena. She covers her mouth as her cheeks warm with embarrassment.
Lena breaks out into a loud laugh. “Yes, you did! You don’t even know her and you’re drooling.”
“Okay, I am not drooling,” Sam quickly protests. “I just---Holy shit do you see her legs?” Sam is clearly referring to Alex’s shapely thighs even underneath the jeans.
Alex suddenly blows the whistle at a small scuffle close to the goal and the look on her face grows dark. Dark in the best way because she yells for the referee to pay attention. At which it not only terrifies the poor guy but piques Sam’s interest even further.
“You should drink more water,” Lena comments beside her with a push at her shoulder. “Your thirst is showing.”
Sam shrugs. “You’re married, not blind. You see her!” She practically cries out in her defense. It doesn’t help that she hasn’t gotten laid in awhile either. “I wouldn’t mind if she ran me up and down the field.”
“Sam!” Lena continues to laugh into her chair. “How many more puns do you have? Just get them all out now.”
Sam cracks her neck with a confident smile before opening up the water bottle. “She can run drills on me.”
“Gross.”
“She can score a goal on me any time.”
“Terrible.”
“Put me in coach!”
“What?!”
They both fall into a raucous laughter. It’s been a long day for the both of them. Sam just wants to relax and unwind. If she can do so over fantasizing over a hot coach she’ll never have the guts to talk to, so be it. The laugh she lets out is genuine and a breath of relief.
“Hey, you two, what’s going on?” Kara reappears beside Lena.
Lena briefly stops laughing to wipe the corner of her eye before tilting her head up to kiss her wife. Kara smiles into the kiss.
Sam feigns gagging and takes a sip of her water.
Kara sits down. “What has you two in stitches?”
“Like you didn’t hear me,” Sam points out very obviously.
Kara’s eyes widen as she pushes her glasses up. “That doesn’t mean I’m always listening.”
Lena swats Sam’s arm for her to be nice to Kara. Sam sticks out her tongue playfully while Lena looks back at Kara. “Sam thinks that Alex is very hot and has been coming up with nasty puns that she’ll never be able to use on Alex.”
Kara immediately turns red. “Alex as in?”
“The hot coach running the team today,” Sam clarifies with absolutely no shame. She stares as Alex jogs towards the goal to watch the girls and she can’t help but let out a wistful sigh as her auburn bob moves majestically in the wind. “Why have I never seen her before?”
Kara’s eyes widen and Lena curled up in her seat snickering beside her. Kara looks at Lena questionably, who nods in affirmation. They have a wordless conversation as Sam dumbly continues to watch the game and Alex of course. Lena subtly shakes her head at Kara not to tell Sam and just follow her lead. While Kara stares skeptically, with a scrunch of her nose, she does so anyway, holding Lena’s hand.
They continue to watch the game, Sam ceasing her terrible puns in favor of cheering on her daughter and Lori.
“You know, you should talk to the coach,” Lena tries to say slyly during the last half of the game.
Sam raises an eyebrow at Lena, knowing that tone of voice. “You know that I'm not going to talk to her,” she shoots back. More like she shoots down the idea immediately. “There’s no chance of that happening.”
“Oh why not? You are attracted to her, that much is easy to tell,” Lena points out. “I bet she’s single. Isn’t that right, Kara?” She slaps at her wife to catch her attention.
Kara jumps from her focus on watching Lori on the field. “Yes?”
“The coach is single right?” Lena tilts her head for Kara to follow her lead.
Kara looks confused momentarily before realizing what Lena was trying to do. She lets out an awkward laugh, trying to lessen the awkward situation. “Oh, oh, yeah! She’s like super single,” Kara blurts out as casually as she can. “You know, just moving back to National City to be closer to her family. She doesn’t know too many people. Yeah, you should totally talk to her.”
Sam narrows her eyes suspiciously at Kara before looking at Lena. “You two are plotting something, I just know it.”
“Whaaaat?” Kara immediately goes off before Lena stares at her with a hard glance that makes her shut up.
“I think it’s just time for you to get back into the game,” Lena blatantly explains. “Ruby’s father hasn’t been in the picture for ages. You’re overworked and underappreciated.”
“Can you tell my boss that?” Sam cheekily says.
Lena rolls her eyes. “You deserve to have a good time.”
“I do have a good time. I have Ruby. I have you guys and Lori. You guys are my family. I don’t really want to date anyone if it’s not long term either. I don’t like the idea of Ruby having to warm up to someone if they aren’t sticking around.”
“But you’re attracted to her?” Kara offers carefully. Even she sounds sympathetic to Sam and usually she tries to remain neutral when it comes to her personal life.
Sam shrugs it off. “Unless Ruby has a stamp of approval, I think I am going to pass.” Lena lets out a disappointed huff and Kara rubs her wife’s arm soothingly. “Sorry ladies, I commend your efforts.”
“Watch out!” “Look out!”
Before Sam can even react.
THWACK
CRACK
“Motherfu--!!!!!!!” Sam screams at the sharp pain across her face. There are tears that immediately start stinging her eyes as she feels warm liquid pouring from her nose. “Fu-aaghhhhh!” She covers her nose as blood starts to fall profusely. Through her eyes slammed shut from the pain she manages to yell, “What the hell was that?!”
The tears really start to sting her eyes as she tries to open them but the pain is so sudden, she’s still in shock.
Lena is helping her with the bleeding, shoving a stack of napkins at her to start. There’s a small crowd starting to form around her asking if she’s alright but no one is actually doing anything and it’s starting to frustrate her.
“Everyone move aside, it’s fine, I’m a doctor.”
Sam looks up at the commanding and smooth voice as the crowd starts to disperse. Shit.
Alex reaches across Sam to hand Kara her whistle and playbook. “Kara, take over for me.” Kara nods quickly and gets out of her seat. Alex turns to the referee. “Can you call a foul and move on with the game?” she demands. The referee nods and blows his whistle. Ruby even comes by to make sure her mom is alright, but Alex easily enough says, “Get back in the game. They need you out there. I can take care of her.” Ruby stares with worry but Sam nods and she goes running back, eyes over her shoulder anyway. It’s the fastest anyone has ever seen a scene calm down. “Lena, can you hand me more napkins?”
Sam stares in awe, even though she’s still trying to stop her nose from bleeding. She starts to tilt her head back when she feels a hand at the back of her head.
“You actually don’t want to do that,” Alex says soothingly. There’s a small smile at the corner of her lips. “It’s a minor misconception that it’ll stop the bleeding,” she eases Sam to tilt her head forward and move towards the edge of her seat.
Sam can actually feel warmer with Alex’s hand at her back guiding her. “This is really embarrassing,” she mumbles through her covered nose. Alex has a napkin underneath her nose ready to catch the blood.
“This stuff happens in sports all the time,” Alex says. “Can I take a look at it?”
Sam’s eye widen and she glances at the corner of her eyes to see Lena hovering with worry.
“I am a doctor,” Alex reassures with a kind smile on her face. It’s a bit unfair because she’s not only attractive physically but a doctor? Her brain is attractive too.
Sam huffs and lets out a spurt of blood on accident, which makes her even more embarrassed. She eases her bloody hands from her face and lets the blood fall onto the napkin Alex has under her chin. She winces at the breeze that crosses her face.
Alex reaches for Sam’s hand and they’re unbelievably soft. “Can you take this?” Alex eases the napkin into Sam’s hand before letting go. Her hands hover over Sam’s cheek as her thumbs gently ease over her nose.
Sam winces at the pain.
“Yep,” Alex murmurs. “That’s broken.”
“What?!” Sam exclaims before she whimpers at the pain. “Broken?”
Alex lets out a small laugh at the shocked look on Sam’s face. “I can set it, if you want me to.”
“Are you actually a doctor?” Sam asks quickly as Alex’s thumbs press against her nose.
Alex backs off immediately. “Why would I lie about that?”
“Well a lot of people say they’re doctors when they really have like doctorates or PhDs, not really MDs--”
Alex watches as Sam rambles and the blood continues to pour. Until she says, “4 years of medical school, 6 years in residency, and a surgical fellow year. I’m pretty sure I’m a doctor.”
Sam blushes at this, “Well then, proceed doctor.”
Alex nods, bringing her thumbs back to Sam’s nose. “This is going to hurt, maybe. On the count of three.”
Sam takes a breath, before coughing a bit of blood. “Oh god,” she groans with disgust. “Alright, I’ve got this. On three.”
“One,” Alex breathes. “Two. Three.”
Sam shuts her eyes but the pain doesn’t come. She opens her eyes. “Wait did you--?” Suddenly there’s a snap and Sam yelps in pain, shrinking away from Alex quickly. There’s another deluge of blood that drives her to sit forward, letting the blood fall to the ground. Her nose feels a hell of a lot better.
“Hey, Aunt Alex, I got the first aid kit,” Lori suddenly appears besides her with a red bag.
Aunt Alex? Sam picks up her head to Lori’s voice. She glances over at Lena who gives her a sheepish look.
“Alex, Sam. Sam, Alex,” Lena introduces. “Alex is Kara’s sister.”
Sam’s eyes widen and Alex just looks up at her with a smile. “Nice to meet you.” She opens the red bag. “Thanks, Lori,” Alex says before looking down the field. “You think you could help your mom out? She hates that soccer isn’t Garatta.”
“Man, I hate that soccer isn’t Garatta too,” Lori complains before jetting off to help Kara.
Alex laughs at Lori’s complaint as she opens up the first aid kit to pull on some gloves. She takes out a fresh wad of gauze before handing it to Sam. “Wipe and then let me see?”
Sam nods, wiping the blood from her nose, wincing when she presses too hard. When the bulk of the blood is gone, she looks at Alex.
Alex stares with a lovely smile and nods. “Still looks beautiful to me.” She looks back in the bag for sterile water.
Sam blushes at that and darts her attention to Lena, who is smiling with her mouth wide open with excitement. Sam looks back at Alex who has a damp 4x4 of gauze.
“I’ll get you cleaned up and then let you decide if you want to go to the hospital now or wait until the game is over,” Alex says.
Sam suddenly feels nervous as Alex moves in closer to her face. The wet gauze touches above her lip and she revels in the gentleness of Alex’s hands. It’s wholly inappropriate to think of when Alex is actually tending her wound.
In the corner of her eyes, she can see Lena gesturing for her to talk. Sam doesn’t know how. Or what she could talk about.
“Let me know if it hurts okay?” Alex comments when she realizes Sam is stiff under her touch.
“No, no, you’re fine,” Sam quickly responds. There’s an awkward silence. “Uh--so you must be good.”
Alex raises an eyebrow as she reaches for more gauze. “Good as in?”
Sam’s eyes widen comically at the unintentional double entendre. “Good as a doctor. I mean you fixed my nose.”
Alex smiles to herself as she dabs the wet gauze at Sam’s chin gingerly. “I would hope I’m a good doctor.”
“She’s being modest,” Lena leans in to interject. “She’s very smart. Top of her class. Extremely talented neurosurgeon.” There’s an encouraging smile on her face as she eagerly stares at Sam. “She just started at NC General. Very new, very eligible.”
“Wow,” Sam grits out at Lena. She looks back at Alex with an apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry that Lena isn’t very subtle.”
Alex looks over to smile at a seemingly innocent looking Luthor-Danvers. “Trust me, those two are the least subtle people I know.” She dabs a dry gauze on Sam’s face before look at her work. “Yup, still good.”
Sam feels self conscious under Alex’s gaze and the blush creeping up her face even harder. “Th-thanks,” Sam stutters before cursing at herself for stuttering. “I mean I’m not going to look like Owen Wilson, am I?”
Alex laughs before reaching for a cold pack, she wraps it in a small towel before gently placing it against Sam’s face. “Definitely not. This is for the swelling.”
Just as Sam takes the ice pack, her fingers brush against Alex’s and all of her senses are on high alert again. Her mind is internally screaming as she carefully presses the cold pack against her nose. There is sweet relief that eases her but it’s very noticeable that Alex is still there.
“So, I’m not going to say it’s good as new, but it’s good for right now since the blood is starting to clot. Do you want to go to the hospital or do you want to wait?” Alex asks.
Sam groans as she takes the ice pack off just as everyone cheers. She sees down field through her semi teary eyes their girls celebrating before looking at Lena. “How much time is left?”
“At least another 30 minutes,” Lena says. “You should go, it’s better to get it checked now than later.”
“I can wait,” Sam says as she looks at the field before putting the ice pack back on. “I want to be here for Ruby.”
Just as she says this, Ruby comes jogging towards her, jacket in hand, brushing by Alex and reaching for her mom’s hand. “Hey, okay, we’re going to the hospital right?” Ruby asks immediately.
Sam squeezes her daughter’s hand. “We can wait until the end of your game,” she says lifting the ice pack. “Alex patched me up.”
Ruby frowns at the small line of blood from her nose and reaches for a napkin from Lena, who’s already holding it out. “Gross, mom, no. We should go. That looks like a lot of blood.”
“It’s fine, it wasn’t that much,” Sam tries to reassure. “I don’t want you to miss your game. Your team needs you.”
“I just got us a three point lead,” Ruby points out before tugging Sam’s hand. “Come on, we should go. You need to see a doctor.” There’s all the worry in her voice.
It tugs at Sam’s heart. “I’m fine, Ruby. It’s just a bloody nose.”
“We also need to get a splint for it,” Alex points out suddenly.
Ruby notices her presence more now that she’s said something. She looks at Alex in alarm before looking at Sam. “It broke?”
“Alex set it for me,” Sam defends. She lifts the ice pack again. “Looks good as new!”
Ruby scrunches her face and reaches out to encourage her mom to put the ice pack back on her face. “No, that’s so gross. It’s swelling really badly. You look like Owen Wilson.”
“You said I looked fine!” Sam shoots to Alex quickly.
“Mom, is Alex a doctor?” Ruby counters.
“She is,” both Sam and Lena answer in unison much to Ruby’s dismay.
“Fine.” Then Ruby looks up at Alex with sudden confidence. “Doctor, in your medical opinion, do you think my mom should go to a hospital and see a doctor?”
Alex nods. “Of course.”
“Ha!” Ruby cheers, gently pushing her mom’s shoulder. “We’re going now!”
Sam narrows her eyes at Alex, who immediately raises her hands in surrender.
After leaving very little room for debate, Ruby forces her mom to call for an Uber to bring them to the hospital and she leaves her keys with Lena to bring her car over. They have to wait forever in the emergency room and mostly it consists of Ruby sitting there chiding her mom for not wanting to come to the hospital in the first place, while Sam sits there saying, they could’ve finished the game and it still would’ve taken the same amount of time waiting. Especially when Lena comes by to let them know she and Kara dropped off her car. She offers to stay but Sam protests and says they’ll catch up later.
They make it to 90 minutes before Ruby gets fed up and goes to the nurse to ask how much longer it’d be. Sam follows after her to stop her daughter from being rude by asking for more gauze and another cold pack. The nurse stares skeptically at Sam before glaring at Ruby. It takes the nurse about 15 minutes to get to them.  
It doesn’t take as long as they advertise it to be. Somehow they get to hour 2 when Sam hears her name being called up to get checked out. They wait briefly in the exam room until the door opens and Alex walks in.
“Hey!” Sam’s eyes widen in surprise. Alex looks different standing before in dark blue scrubs that match her complexion even better than Supergirl’s blue does. Her white coat sleeves are rolled up showing off her forearms once more. Did she get hotter?
“Wow, you really are a doctor,” Ruby adds with the same admiration. “Are you here to check out my mom?”
Sam blushes at her daughter’s very poor choice of words and tries desperately not to giggle but it comes out anyway. “Check me out? I’m sure that’s not the case, Ruby.”
Ruby looks at her mom funny before looking at Alex.
“I'm not actually,” Alex answers as the door opens and another man walks in. He’s much taller than her with a strong jaw and messy dirty blonde hair. His beard is immaculate and even under his white coat, Sam can see his muscles.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Sloan, plastics,” he oozes with confidence, holding his hand out for Sam to shake.
Now there are two extremely attractive doctors in the small exam room with Sam and her daughter. What universe did she step into?
“Do I need a plastic surgeon?” Sam asks in alarm.
Alex laughs. “No, you don’t. But I thought I’d get you the best doctor in case you don’t trust my judgment.”
“That’s right, Lexie, the best,” he agrees wholeheartedly, dropping his hand on her shoulder with a rub. There’s a familiarity in his touch that makes Sam feel awkward.
So much for being single.
That thought is dispelled when Alex smiles and nods along before grabbing his two middle fingers and twisting them off her shoulder.
“Not the hands! Not the hands!” he yelps, pulling away as fast as he can.
“Don’t call me Lexie,” Alex shoots back with a cheeky smile. She looks at Sam apologetically. “I apologize in advance for whatever he says, but I promise he will take care of you.” Her pager beeps at her waist and she pulls back her white coat with a bit of flare that catches Sam’s attention because it’s so cool. “If you’ll excuse me, there’s a trauma coming in.”
Alex leaves the room shooting a smile at Sam and Sam waves back. Ruby excuses herself to follow Alex out.
So as Mark, Sam comes to learn his first name through his failed attempts at flirting, does his assessment, she decides to make conversation because clearly he at least knows Alex.
“So you and Alex seem close,” Sam casually puts out there. “Are you---”
“Dating?” Mark finishes with his boyish smirk. He shakes his head, he reaches for the splint kit. “No, no. As beautiful as she is, she is like a scrappy little sister to me.” Sam nods at the odd description and doesn’t really know what to say to that since she doesn’t know Alex that well at all. “Are you interested?”
“Interested in what?” Sam asks dumbly.
“Alex,” he remarks. He continues to multitask with ease as he talks. “She probably likes you if she’s got me coming to help you out. Usually our conversations start with how revolting I am to her.” He chuckles.
“We don’t actually know each other,” Sam answers, trying to remain as cool and calm and neutral as possible. “I heard she just moved here recently.”
Mark nods, carefully placing the splint on her face. “Yep, moved here to be closer to her family.” Sam thinks that’s all he has to say when he glances at her with a smirk. “I hear she’s single and she’s interested in women. I mean if you’re interested of course.”
Sam snorts that it actually hurts her briefly and Mark chuckles at her.
Mark does quick work but he’s confident that Sam will be fine and to check back with him in a couple of days. He even gives her a card with his number on it. And while she takes it with an eye roll, he smiles anyway and says, “I hope the next number you get is Alex’s then.”
She blushes at this and goes on her way to find out where her daughter has been hiding out.
Alex doesn’t ever realize how quickly she’s moving through the hospital until she’s down in trauma, triaging patients. In her mind, it feels like there are a million things she has to get done but in reality it takes less time than she thinks. It’s why she doesn’t notice that Ruby is in the ER trailing after her until she comes out of a grueling trauma room.
“Ruby! What are you doing here?” she asks with concern.
Ruby stares at Alex, in an almost spitting image of her mother. With that stern furrow of her brows and pursed lips. “I just wanted to ask you a few questions.”
Alex stares skeptically at her as she starts to walk. “Can we walk and talk? I just have a few things to do.”
“How old are you?”
“I am 34. I skipped third grade.”  
Ruby nods and follows after Alex. “What do you like to do in your free time?”
“Uh, I do kickboxing, martial arts, and go hiking.” Alex stops at the nurses station to grab a huge stack of folders.
“What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?”
“Anything with chocolate and/or strawberry.”
“Do you like cats or dogs?”
“I like all animals. They’re cute in their own ways.”
“Do you prefer tea or coffee?”
“Coffee in the mornings and tea if I am doing an overnight shift.”
“Do you prefer watching movies or tv?”
“I’m more of a video gamer than either of those two to be honest. If it’s strictly those two, then tv.”
“What’re you playing now?” Ruby asks with sudden excitement. She chides herself as Alex is about to answer with, “No wait, what are you watching right now?”
“I’m a sucker for political dramas and comedies.”
Ruby nods in approval. She realizes that Alex is really good at multitasking because as she’s going through the patient files, she still manages to answer Ruby. So she has to take this opportunity to ask a real question.
“How do you feel about kids?” Ruby breathes out.
Alex looks at Ruby in confusion. “I love kids.”
“Do you have any?”
“Nope.”
“Do you want any?”
“Of course, I don’t see why not.”
“Well some people say that they love kids but wouldn’t want any of their own,” Ruby reasons for Alex.
Alex agrees with that thought process and goes back to signing off on a chart. “I’ve always wanted kids.”
“Good.” Ruby states thoughtfully. Before Alex can ask a question, she interrupts with, “How did your last relationship end?”
There’s a scratch of pen into the paper that comes to a halt and Alex puts her pen down. She leans against the nurses station and the nurse behind the desk looks at Alex curiously before looking at Ruby.
“Ruby, why are you asking me all of these questions?” Alex asks suspiciously.
Ruby squares her shoulders and looks up at Alex. “I think my mom is interested in you,” she answers.
Alex feels her ears turn red as the nurse stares at Alex with deep interest. She moves to usher Ruby away from listening ears. “Ruby, does your mom know you’re asking me these questions?”
Ruby shakes her head. “You think she’d let me?”
Alex tilts her head at the certainty in Ruby’s voice and nods. “I’m going to assume no,” she answers. “But I’m not entirely sure that this is an appropriate conversation you should be having with me.”
“Why not?”
“Because if your mom was interested in me, then maybe she and I could have that conversation.”
Ruby perks at this. “So does that mean you are interested in my mom?”
Alex suddenly feels trapped and her face warms. She isn’t going to deny that she finds Sam attractive. And after months of Lena going on over video calls with her and Kara about how Sam is a beautiful, smart, and eligible single mother, Alex would be lying if she said she wasn’t interested in meeting her.
“I’m going to take that long pause and the pinking of your cheeks as a yes,” Ruby notes aloud.
Alex flaps her mouth like a fish before trying to regain her composure. “Regardless of whether or not I am interested in your mom, I think that it’s something she and I should talk about.”
“Agreed,” Ruby resolutely says to Alex’s surprise. Then she adds, “Are you free tonight?”
Alex is once again caught off guard at Ruby’s questions. “What?”
“Are you free tonight?” Ruby repeats slowly for Alex. There’s a cheeky smile at the corner of her lips that Alex can’t be mad at. “If you are, my mom is cooking sopas tonight and you should join us.” Alex starts protesting when Ruby shakes her head. “No, think of it as a thank you for taking care of her. I thank you. And she’s going to thank you.” Alex reddens at how Sam would thank her and Ruby goes flat face at her. “Head out of the gutter, coach.”
“My head wasn’t in the gutter,” Alex protests firmly.
Ruby makes a sound as she side eyes Alex but she lets it drop. “So dinner tonight?” she asks.
“Uhm--we should talk to your mom about this,” Alex tries once more.
“She’s never going to have the guts to ask you.” There’s a slight disappointment and even guilt in her voice.  
They’ve walked back towards her mom’s exam room just as she and Sloan are coming out. Alex feels a sense of relief as she sees Sam.
Sam sees Alex and shyly looks away. The look melts her heart and it doesn’t matter if Sam has a splint on her nose, Alex knows that Sam is beautiful. Sam is featured on enough CatCo magazines that Lena sends.
Ruby rolls her eyes. “I get it, she’s pretty,” she deadpans to Alex. Alex shoots her a look.
“Don’t put me on the spot,” Alex bumps Ruby playfully.
Ruby chuckles before leaving Alex’s side to go to her mom, taking her purse from her hands. “Mom, Alex is joining us for dinner. Is that okay?”
Alex stares in just as much shock as Sam does. Their eyes meet again.
“Did you ask her nicely?” Sam asks because Ruby knows that she’d never say no to her.
Ruby smiles proudly at herself. “I asked her nicely on your behalf.” She glances back at Alex before looking at her mom. “I am going to wait in the car.” She quickly hugs Sam before letting go. “You’re welcome,” she says aloud before walking off with her bright smile and head held high.
Alex nervously stands there as Ruby leaves the emergency room and Sam’s left standing there in confusion.
“I feel like I’m missing something,” Sam say, approaching Alex in wake of her strange daughter.
Alex shakes her head with a chuckle. She scratches her forehead with her thumb, trying to find out where she should start. “Uhm, I think your daughter just asked me out on a date for you,” she tries to explain.
Sam’s eyes widen with shock and embarrassment. Despite this, Alex can’t help but notice her twinkling hazel eyes. “I am sorry what?” she asks quickly.
Alex nods, shoving her hands into her white coat. “She’s under the impression that you are interested in me.”
Sam blushes brightly and begins to stumble over her words. “Wh-ah-are you---I mean, I’m not dating anyone,” Sam keeps stumbling and her hands start to gesticulate. “Not that I am dating. I have a busy job that keeps me at the office late a lot of days. And I have a daughter. She’s twelve. It’s always been us and we are---”
Alex can start to see why Ruby says Sam would never ask her out. She smiles kindly. “Hey, it’s okay,” she tenderly says, holding her hand out to placate Sam. “I get it. You and Ruby are really close. That’s a really special relationship. If you feel uncomfortable, you can tell Ruby whatever you want.”
Sam looks torn between relieved and regretful. She nods slowly. “Thanks for saying that,” she says softly, the regret loud in her voice.
Alex still smiles. “She really loves you and she’s super protective.”
Sam nods in agreement. “Like I said, it’s always been us.” She fiddles with her fingers nervously as she stands there. She knows she should’ve just gone with it but this isn’t just about Ruby. Sam doesn’t know if she’s ready for this. As much as she wants to get to know Alex, it terrifies her. “I should go.”
“Of course,” Alex steps aside for Sam graciously. “I am glad that you're okay.”
Sam smiles, still feeling the tug at her heart as she starts to walk towards the exit. “Thanks to you, for being there and then expediting the long wait here. That’s a lot for someone I’ve barely met.”
“Well, any friend of Kara and Lena is a friend of mine,” Alex says walking beside her. “It’s nice to put a name to a face.”
Sam looks at Alex with sudden curiosity. “What do you mean?”
Alex looks briefly caught and answers, “Kara and Lena talk about you all the time. All good things.”
“Well this is sad because I know nothing about you,” Sam comments ruefully.
“I’m sure we will get to know each other eventually.” Sam raises an eyebrow at Alex. “I mean I’m always at the hospital, but I’m sure Kara and Lena are going to pry me away from here to hang out. So maybe we will see each other.”
Sam isn’t going to lie that there’s a sadness in her chest knowing that they’d never get to hang out unless it’s the behest of Kara and Lena. She wants to get to know Alex too. Instead of saying just that, she says, “Yeah, maybe we will.”
Alex has an indiscernible look on her face, but it isn’t disappointment thankfully.
They reach the exit and Sam feels herself lingering in Alex’s presence. The doors slide open and Sam looks outside. She looks back at Alex with a tugging in her chest because she doesn’t want to leave just yet.
“If you ever need anything, medical or not, I’m here,” Alex informs leaning in playfully. It sounds an awful lot like a promise.
Sam nods. “I’ll see you around, Alex.”
Alex offers a small wave. She stands at the exit of the hospital as Sam walks out.
Sam walks out slowly, thinking about Alex the whole time. She thinks of the what ifs and what mays. It settles in her heart heavily because Alex is genuine and kind and obviously smart and beautiful. But she can’t. She has L Corp and Ruby. She can’t date, she doesn’t know how to anymore. She looks back over her shoulder to see Alex still standing there, tall and confident, hands in her white coat over her neat navy blue scrubs. Even if she wants to--
There’s a chime from her phone that catches her attention. She pulls her phone out of her back pocket and sees a message from Ruby.
I approve! You can do it, mom! I believe in you!
Sam laughs at the text from her daughter. There’s a strong sense of relief in seeing her daughter’s text. Maybe. Just maybe.
She turns around to Alex, who is just about to walk away. She takes a breath. “Alex!”
Alex stops midstep and looks at Sam.
“Would you like to come over for dinner?” Sam yells across the walkway. “It’s the least I can do. As a thank you.” She feels herself vibrating with excitement as she waits for Alex’s response.
Alex looks a bit red under the shade but she nods. “I look forward to it!” Suddenly she looks at her waist again. “I’ve gotta go!”
Sam waves as the sirens fill the air from the other side of the emergency room. She watches as the doors slide close, catching a glimpse of Alex rushing off. She feels her heart swell inside of her and there’s a pep in her step as she walks to the car.
She climbs into the driver seat regaining her composure with Ruby buzzing with excitement.
“Sooooo?” Ruby sings in her seat.
Sam nods to herself as she reaches for the keys from Ruby. “She’s coming over for dinner,” she answers nonchalantly.
Ruby narrows her eyes. “That’s it?”
“Yup,” there’s a little pop at the p. “As a thank you.” Sam can’t wipe the smile off her face.
Ruby makes a sound before crossing her arms in disappointment, sinking in her seat. “That was less exciting than I thought it’d be. Did you at least get her number?”
Sam’s eyes widen and she lets out a pained groan when she drops her head onto the steering wheel. “I forgot!”
Ruby shakes her head and takes out her phone. “You’re lucky I asked Lena for it already.”
Sam lets out a scoff in disbelief. “Are you trying to set me up?”
“Obviously, mom,” Ruby deadpans. “Face it, it’s time you got back in the game.”
35 notes · View notes
raidingyourheart · 7 years ago
Note
Companions react to sole wanting to jump off trinity tower in power armor?
Companions react to the Sole Survivor wanting to make the jump from Trinity Tower in power armor.
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◖   Ears prickling every time the wind dipped through the dilapidated architecture of one of the Commonwealth’s most imposing structures, Dogmeat almost shook. With each cautious step he made across the uneven flooring, his nails went ‘click’, ‘click’, ‘click’. He never passed within five feet of the edge, unable to stand beside the survivor, who so confidently peered over at the expanse of broken city. Their suit hissed as one foot bravely hung out over nothing. It returned shortly, heel grinding back into a fairly solid foundation, lest the building finally decide to give in to its aches and creaking.
     A steady whine left the dog, head tilting insistently to one side. He’d like to follow this human everywhere, but off the side of the tower was somewhere he could not go.
◖   ❝It’ll make headlines,❞ the joke was in good nature, but did nothing to stop Piper’s nervous habit. Her fingers curled and released in repetition, fingernails pressing tightly to her palm to the point of discomfort before dropping. ❝’Vault Dweller dares gravity!’ Gravity accepts, and… Well, wins.❞
    ❝Come on, Blue. We both know you’re not serious. You can’t be serious.❞
◖   The shutters on Codsworth’s optic lenses retracted, giving him the equivalent of a human’s wide-eyed expression. An indignant ❝You’re doing what?❞ left the Mr. Handy, chassis spinning to fully face the power armor clad daredevil.
     ❝While my programming insists I remain encouraging and as optimistic as possible, I dare say you’ve gone mad! And that’s coming from a place of concern,❞ one metal arm extended, the one with the claw attached, and the pincers opened and closed as though the robot was beckoning the other away from the ledge. ❝You put quite a bit of trust in that suit, but now I almost regret even uttering the word ‘unstoppable’. Smashing into the concrete below is a bit of a hard stop, don’t you agree?❞
◖   A nervous chuckle left his mouth, which two seconds prior, had been pressed in a firm purse. Preston shook his head, hand pulling on the collar of his duster. ❝Be careful,❞ were the only words he could manage, eyes trained intently on the proximity of the General to the side of the tower. Another step on their part elicited a following ❝Wait.❞
     ❝The roof of the Museum back in Concord and here are, well, very different. I won’t say that’s not the quickest way down, but we’re not in a rush, right? The Commonwealth can wait on us taking the safer route to the ground. No need to damage your power armor… or yourself.❞
◖   ❝Oh, sure! Why not?❞ Cait snapped, sarcasm bladed. ❝Those tin cans look mighty fun when you’re chargin’ into a fight, guns ablazin’, but the appeal is lost in this. S’not like you haven’t already jumped off every other building in this damned city… But those are lackin’ a few stories. Makes a difference, yeah?❞
     Her hip cocked to the side, hand finding its place atop it so she could send an uninterested glance at the person who currently held her contract. ❝If you’re tryin’ to impress me, it ain’t going to work. Now, if you want’a go bash a few heads together, that’s somethin’ I can get behind.❞
◖   ❝Was getting up here not enough of a thrill for you? It almost wore this old bot out,❞ Nick commented idly, unsure if his case partner was serious. He had a knack for reading expressions, but with the stoic, and slightly glaring, helmet of the power armor being the only thing to greet him in conversation, he was left turning to body language. There was no hesitation in the approach to the ledge, which made his teeth grit anxiously, something he was sure was a habit of the past Nick’s. He felt his good hand twitch, wanting for a cigarette to hold.
     ❝You sure? I know I can stamp the fun with my worrying sometimes, but here and there I’ve scrounged up some sound advice, like that breaking your fall with pavement isn’t the smartest move. You’re better off being a good liar than ending up with some shattered bones and a busted up suit if things go south.❞
◖   Maccready always had a routine when finding himself in a high place. His eyes would sweep the area, lock onto any covered spots with a good lookout, and store them in the back of his mind in case he needed to drop into a position to shoot. It had him so caught up that he barely heard the muffled voice of his employer suggest the stunt.
     The sharpshooter squinted, two fingers pinching the brim of his hat and pulling it off so his free hand could run through his hair, pulling strands out of his face. ❝You’re not paying me enough to do it with you, you know that, right?❞ A few seconds of silence went by before he started up again, jaw dropping open and closing as he tried to find some argument other than ‘this is stupid’.
     ❝Running with you has been one of the best gigs I’ve had in a while. Can we not risk it coming to an end like this? There’s enough people shooting at us as is.❞
◖   Deacon whistled lowly at the prospect, whether from being wowed by the bravo or taken aback by the cockiness. ❝You know,❞ he began, gesturing with his hand to the open space around them, ❝this one time…❞
     He had their attention, their shoulder turning to him slightly, head tilted in inclination that they were listening. ❝I made this exact jump,❞ the Railroad agent paused, trying to draw out the suspense as far as he could, ❝with no armor whatsoever.❞
     There was a heavy pause and then a stifled ❝Bullshit,❞ from Charmer, who didn’t even dignify him with a ‘you’re lying’ this time.
     ❝No! Honest,❞ he insisted, familiar smirk plastered on his face, as laughter threatened to interrupt him. ❝You can’t top my performance so why even try, right?❞
◖   It wasn’t the funniest joke, but it got a fair snort out of him. That was, until it wasn’t a joke. If the cruel ways of radiation hadn’t taken away any semblance of eyebrows, then they would have been bunched up, surveying the scene before him. ❝Alright, alright,❞ Hancock started, hands up almost in surrender, ❝I got’cha now.❞
     ❝But hear me out,❞ he proposed, mouth tugged into a grin. ❝Come out of that. Take a huff of this,❞ the ghoul’s hand disappeared within his jacket, momentarily digging in one of the inner pockets for a Jet canister, half-empty, or rather, half-full ( he did like to be optimistic from time to time ). ❝Then, stand near the edge, I’ll shimmy up behind you, hold under your arms, and you say something like… ‘I’m flying, John, I’m flying!’. That’s some pre-war stuff, ain’t it? I promise it’ll be a hell of a lot better than falling.❞
◖   ❝Careless and improper use of a Brotherhood issued suit is grounds for suspension, soldier,❞ Danse tread a fair distance behind the survivor, unsure of the building’s ability to withstand their combined weight in one spot, occasionally calling out for them to keep alert and safe. ❝If any of the initiates told you of some challenge involving this, I regret to inform you that bragging rights, or even the caps if this is a bet, isn’t worth the trip to see the Proctor and explain to her why you’ve damaged your armor.❞
     He exhaled sharply through his nose when offered the chance to jump off with the vault dweller, in which he replied with furrowed eyebrows and a firm shake of his head. ❝Absolutely not! Next you’ll be wanting to take on the Prydwen deck–❞
     ❝No.❞
◖   Curie was delighted by the vantage point of the skyline, hands clasped together. ❝Is this what they would call a picture-perfect view?❞ she turned, smile wavering slightly as she watched the power armor helmet tilt downwards, the person within it clearly considering the distance down. ❝We are very high up, yes?❞ her tone had taken on a warning, mind racing with images of scattered pieces of metal dashed against the city streets, and a crumpled body laying motionless amidst them. Had some color left her face? She certainly felt colder, and not from the draftiness of their location.
     ❝You must be careful with heights. This would be quite the fall, and while I do have advanced medical capabilities, I’m afraid that… that I would be rendered useless in aiding you. Perhaps you would like to enjoy the sunrise with me instead?❞
◖   ❝I’d highly advise against it.❞ That had easily been the fourth time the phrase had been said. X6-88 stood behind his charge, arms defaulting to folding behind his back. ❝We’re already exposed up here as easy targets, so it is my suggestion that we move back down.❞
     ❝While I am just as eager as you to see the suspension capabilities of your armor, the recklessness of this impromptu testing is both unwise and impulsive. Can we not both agree that it’s more trouble than it’s worth?❞
◖   ❝You’re the Overboss,❞ the reply was almost robotic at this point, more of an excuse to justify to himself why they chose to do the things they did than to reassure them that they could. Gage grimaced, ❝But ya know, I wouldn’t necessarily say ‘go for it’.❞
     ❝Ain’t no one here to impress. Maybe jumpin’ off Fizztop would get you some credit from the Pack, but–❞ he paused, giving one shoulder a shrug, ❝is that really what you’re aiming for, boss? I’m s’posed to be watching your back out here, and if I head home saying that you died doing this, then they’ll, I don’t know, think I pushed you or somethin’. Consider this me looking our for your neck and mine.❞
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quiddy-writes · 7 years ago
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Grandma America (Part 2/4)
This comes from a discussion the two of us had which, actually, you can find here! But we wrote it with me and ElRoy actually in it rather than being gracious or smart and turning it into reader inserts. We regret nothing.
Side note, I tagged my Forevers, but, uh, I will not be offended and still love them if they skip this. :D
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Pairing: Steve x Katie, Peter x ElRoy (Nat/Clint mentioned in the background if you squint, like, super hard, I think) Words: 1410ish Summary: We learn how Steve found his girlfriend and they proceed to embarrass a teen Warnings: Swearing, purposefully embarrassing a teen Other Parts: Part 1
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Seemingly within seconds of awaking, the grandfather jokes began. Steve understood; he had literally been on ice for seventy-plus years and it looked like, no matter what he did or what serum he took or however many times he punched Hitler in the face, he would never escape teasing. So he wasn’t surprised.
He was a bit shocked, however, when one of the younger and newer recruits, Katie (who worked in IT and argued constantly that she wasn’t an Avenger, even if she had saved their computers from the “brink of destruction” a hundred times before), agreed to show him around the city and around the newer technologies.
She claimed often that she was a horrible teacher, sure she was skipping concepts that were, to her, simple and obvious, but to him were complicated and foreign. She also claimed that she couldn’t handle stupid questions without blowing a gasket. Steve never saw those traits directed at him, however. Sure, there was a time or two where he heard her groan quietly in frustration or shoo his hands away from the keyboard, but, most of the time, she was calm and helpful.
It boggled Steve that Katie was the last person to know about his feelings for her. Natasha and Clint never let him hear the end of it, the former even trying to convince Steve to let her set them up.
It took longer than Steve would like to admit, but, finally, during one of their sessions, he asked her to dinner. During that dinner, she’d confessed to her own feelings for the oldest Avenger, and, within hours, they were exclusive.
Her nickname flowed naturally from Tony’s mouth one day shortly after—“Grandma”—and Steve was terrified.
Great, just what he needed, another reminder that he was too old for his girlfriend.
Katie, however, took to the name like a fish to water. She even explained that she had been called Grandma in high school since she acted so much older than her friends, so she was already used to the name. Steve had responded to that by grabbing her by the hips and pulling her into a passionate kiss.
Most days, the two would cuddle up on the couch, Katie happily nuzzled under Steve’s arms, as she caught him up on such classic films as The Sting, Some Like It Hot, and Zoolander.
Shortly after the tradition started, every Avenger learned when movie night between the two was solely to avoid the overly saccharine Cap and his girlfriend. Everyone except ElRoy.
The two girls met when ElRoy, Tony’s daughter who was more mature than him, came down to tech support wondering just who the hell had messed with the settings of some machine Katie couldn’t even hope to pronounce the name of. The two struck up a friendship after that. In fact, when Katie began her movie nights, she went to ElRoy for help picking movies.
So, sometimes, ElRoy interrupted the movie nights to join in, and that was how she befriended Steve Rogers.
During their viewing of Clueless, ElRoy seemed distracted and was constantly checking her phone. At the end of the movie, Katie lightly tossed the remote from her nook under Steve’s arm at the young Stark girl. “Where’s my Austen buddy at?”
“I was paying attention,” ElRoy answered with a roll of her eyes.
Katie shook her head, pushing herself up into a seated position. “No, you were not, young lady! If you’re not even gonna pay attention, get out of here so I can smooch my boyfriend!”
Steve’s face practically burst into flame at that, but the girls paid no mind.
“It’s nothing.”
“Nothing my ass,” Katie grumbled. “What’s his name?”
ElRoy’s cheeks reddened, and Steve sat up straight. “What? Who?”
“The boy she’s been texting all night.”
“Aren’t you too young to be thinking about boys?” Steve frowned, his protectiveness coming out in full force.
“I’m fifteen, grandpa,” ElRoy snarked back.
“Grandpa?!” He reeled back as though she’d actually punched him.
“It’s okay, Steve,” Katie leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re a sexy grandpa. A total GILF.”
“GILF?”
“Yeah, a grandpa I’d like to—”
“Okay!” ElRoy leapt to her feet, the blush spreading from her cheeks to the rest of her body. “I’m gonna, just, uh…yeah, bye!”
“Wait!” Katie shouted as ElRoy ran out. “Young lady, you get back here!”
The door slammed shut behind the teen, and Katie fell back onto the couch with a very mature pout. She turned to her boyfriend, who had pulled his phone out. “Who’re you texting now?”
“Nat.”
“Steven Rogers, you are a genius.”
The compound lobby looked…different.
A ratty couch was situated in the front room, just beyond the antechamber that led to the outside world. A small projector from what looked like the early sixties rested on a plastic folding table that was straining under the weight. On the couch sat Katie and Steve, curled up in their pajamas like it was any other movie night.
ElRoy stood in front of the elevator in a wine-colored skater-style dress and matching flats, her brown eyes wide as she took in the scene in front of her. “Um,” she tried, though words failed her.
“Oh, hey girl!” Katie turned to face her young friend. “You headin’ out?”
“Um.”
“Well,” Steve said. “I already spoke with Peter and he knows you have to be back here by nine.”
“Nine?!” ElRoy squeaked.
“Yeah, otherwise he gets to meet all the Avengers,” Katie answered sweetly. “Violently.”
“Wait, how did you even—?!”
“Nat knows everything,” Steve clarified. “Everything.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of horrifying,” Katie shuddered.
“You’re not my parents!” ElRoy huffed, stamping her foot as though that would help prove her point.
“I’m sure Tony would agree with me,” Steve spoke evenly, his dad voice coming out in full force. “We only want what’s best for you.”
ElRoy had another complaint on her lips when the elevator doors opened to reveal Peter, wearing a red shirt, blue jacket, and jeans. His eyes widened at the set-up. “Uh…hi?”
The young girl grinned widely. “Hi Peter!”
He broke out in a smile of his own at hearing her. “Hey,” he breathed out, relief evident. “You look…wow, uh…” his cheeks reddened enough to almost match his shirt.
ElRoy smiled bashfully. “You look ‘wow’ too.”
“Thanks,” Peter chuckled. “Hello Katie, Ste…Cap?”
Steve’s blue eyes narrowed. “Captain Rogers.”
Peter gulped. “Yes, sir.”
Katie stood and walked over to the young superhuman, her hands on her hips. “Now, you know the rules.”
“Yes ma’am,” he nodded. “We’ll be back before nine.”
“Right,” she said. “And no hanky panky.”
“Oh my God,” ElRoy groaned. “You did not just say that, Katie.”
“Look, I was fifteen once too—”
“A hundred years ago,” ElRoy’s eyes rolled of their own volition.
“Hey!” Steve frowned. “You do not speak to Katie like that! You know better, ElRoy.”
“Aw, my poor baby,” Katie turned and pulled ElRoy’s face directly into her chest, hugging her tightly. “I only do this because I love you, honey.”
“I can’t breathe!”
Katie shushed ElRoy, stroking and semi-ruining the younger girl’s hair.
Steve stood and walked over to Peter. He clapped a hand the younger boy’s shoulder (Peter winced) and looked him straight in the eye. “Look, we all think you’re a good kid. Just don’t prove us wrong.”
ElRoy finally wrestled out of Katie’s grip and ran over to Peter. She twined her fingers with his and began pulling him towards the door. “Well, this has been awful, and we’ll be back!”
“Be safe! Don’t get murdered!” Katie shouted behind the young couple.
The groan that left the young girl could be heard just before the outer doors shut.
Katie snorted in laughter, immensely pleased with herself. Steve wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Alright, well, we’ve got a little bit before they get back. Wanna start the movie?”
She turned in his arms, snaking her own arms around his waist as she pushed herself up on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Unless you can think of anything else you wanna do.”
“Wha…people could see in here!” Steve stuttered.
She laughed, falling back on the balls of her feet. “Look at your face! You’re as red as a tomato!”
His forehead fell against hers as he sighed heavily. “Even you tease me…”
“Sorry, but you’re just too adorable.”
He pressed a quick kiss to her lips before pulling her over to the couch to settle in and enjoy their movie.
Everything Tags: @carrollmomx3 @kayteonline @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @raylin19 @samwinjarpad @saxxxology @spnhybrid @thinkwritexpress-official @wayward-marvel-and-more @xfanqirlinq
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honeyglistened · 7 years ago
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I need to tell you a story. I was born on the streets of a big, impervious city, to a woman of so little consequence that neither fact nor fiction has any record of her existence. My birth was likewise attended with neither joy nor ceremony, and I can only surmise that it took place, some fifteen or twenty years ago in that same city in which I found myself living, in my earliest memory. This memory is one of unremitting squalor, but, in its defense, it is told with the greatest attention to detail. Perhaps it was this attentiveness that finally saved my life. But let us begin at the beginning… 
In a caliginous cellar near the river, a man and a woman are arguing. “I told you, I won’t,” says the woman, stamping her foot. The clogs on her feet make a thump that is swallowed without echo by the damp walls. In the flickering rush­light the man’s face looks creased like an old prune, but whether in anger or through the misfortune of old age, it’s impossible to tell. Probably both, because it’s a sign of the times. “Oh yes, you will,” he says, but without conviction. He uses an old book page as a spill to light his pipe. “Oi, you,” he snarls, and waves the pipe in a complicated luminal gesture which the small child sitting in the corner, hunched over some crude needlework, interprets as a summons. “Fetch me a bottle. No, I don’t have the coin for it. What’s the point of your needling if you can’t earn your keep? Get out with you and don’t come back until you’ve got me something strong.” The child, knowing logic is useless, hurries out. No, she isn’t me. I’m still in the room, forgotten by man, woman, child and memory, having been shepherded into the scene with the other urchin for some unfathomable reason. I feel the meaningless cold, see the meaningless drops of humidity glint on the walls, hear the meaningless rasp and cough of the consumptive inhabitants, taste the meaningless aroma of hunger and bile, and smell the meaningless rank scent of… well, perhaps it’s best not to elaborate on that. So much for my first introduction into the world. My captor then demands that I fulfill my role as a thief ­ “urban hunter” is the phrase he uses, I assume with the intention of elevating my occupation to one that is worthy of the story. Soon enough this story demands that I am caught and (another sign of the times) punished harshly for my meagre crime of stealing a freshly­baked apple pie which tempted me with its warm, spicy steam on a cold, hungry winter evening. No doubt you are full of sympathy for my plight. There follows a tedious examination and cross-examination by police and legal men, which is where, through the most inconsequential chance, my real story begins.
While the court was hearing the testimony of a bribed and imbibed passer­by, with frequent emendations by the pie­seller, I noticed a shoelace curled into the shape of a question mark on the floor near my left foot. With the instinct of a poor child who sees value in every piece of rubbish, I bent down to pick it up, stealthily, but I was perplexed to find that as much as I pulled and pulled at it, and kept feeding it into my pocket, the shoelace never ended. I glanced down and saw that it snaked away from the stand, towards the wall behind the judge. I knelt, and while everyone’s attention was fixed on the pie­seller, who was now arguing loudly with the passer­by, crawled past the guard’s legs, still following the trail of the shoelace. When it reached the wall, it suddenly began climbing vertically. I looked around to make sure no one was watching, and gave the make­shift rope a tug. It seemed strong, so I surrendered my full weight to it. Still it held. Hand over hand I began making my way up the shoelace. The people didn’t notice me soaring above them like a tiny spider, turning lazily as a breeze caught the rope. I don’t remember much about my first jump after that; I think I must have been dizzy with spinning around on the shoelace, and with the elation of my escape. At the time I knew no more of reading than I did of fakirs, so as I rose, the lines of text looked to me like the bars of a flimsy cage that blew in the wind and cast fleeting shadows across the courtroom floor, and the bald heads of the tiny men who were still engaged in their meaningless debate, their arms and legs flailing in an attempt to agitate or articulate, I wasn’t sure. I can only imagine the horrors that my captor had in store for me had I stayed until the end of my trial ­ I have since met pirates with more sense and conscience than those men…
I do remember standing at the top of the world and leaning over the black parapet to look out into the Great Gap. There was just enough light for me to see the far side, before the sun fled the scene. I heard rumors afterwards that a tightrope walker had carried me on his back, having slung the shoelace across to the next book. I think it more likely that I managed to swing myself across and slammed into the soft, puffy pages. I must have fallen asleep after that, or perhaps I knocked myself out. When I woke up, an inspector from Scotland Yard was bending over me. “Where did you come from, then?” he asked. His name was Marsh. I told him, but after I’d finished my narrative I could see that he didn’t believe me. “Where’s the proof?” he asked. “It’s hard for me to believe you without proof.” I looked around for the shoelace but couldn’t see it. I was lying on a soft bank of snow in what looked like a large park. I’d never seen so many trees, or so much open space. “Gypsy, probably,” said a man behind Mr. Marsh. “She looks a bit addled if you ask me.” “Yes, but what are we to do with her?” asked Mr. Marsh. “She doesn’t seem to know where she came from, or won’t tell us. You know you can trust us to treat you fairly,” he said, turning towards me to try once more. “No matter what your parents told you to say to the police, we’ll look after you. So why don’t you tell me where your folks are, eh?” “I told you, I don’t have any parents,” I said. “Please believe me.” “Alright, alright,” said Mr. Marsh, soothingly. “There’s nothing for it but to take her up to the house and hope that the servants can look after her for a few days. We can’t get her down to the orphanage until the roads clear up.” So began my stay at the Manor. The officers were there to investigate a murder ­ a guest staying at the house had been found dead in his room with the door locked from the inside and a strange gold bullet lodged in his brain. Luckily for me (unluckily for the victim), the incident left little time for the police to further explore The Curious Case of the Little Orphan Found in a Deep Snow Drift Without a Single Footprint for Miles Around. We so often miss the larger mysteries as we investigate the lesser ones.
The household were generally too busy keeping secrets to pay much attention to me, but I did make friends with one young man. He was the son of the owner of the house, and the murdered guest had been his schoolmate. He spent time with me because it took his mind off the guilt he felt at having invited his friend to stay. He taught me to play checkers, and chess, and patience, and told me stories about his travels and the people he’d met. “You know, you’re lucky you don’t have parents,” he said one day, walking into the library very red-faced. “You can go anywhere and do anything you like.” “So can you!” I exclaimed. He gave a derisive snort. “Perhaps when this dreadful business is cleared up I can go abroad, but I’ll never be rid of the responsibility of maintaining this old pile, or of dealing with all the petty details at the bank. If only I could be free of it all! And the worst of it is that they think I bumped off poor Fatty because he was stealing my customers. It’s like a nightmare. I don’t know how my glove came to be in the bushes under the window or where the missing pistol is, but everyone is so suspicious.” I wanted to tell him that being an orphan was no better nor worse than being born in a wealthy manor, but I was too young and inexperienced to articulate any of it. And when I walked into the library the next morning and found him standing over the dead body of his sister-­in­-law, holding a bloody knife in his hand, all I could think of was to try to get him away. I knew he was innocent, just as I had been innocent in my book. I grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the corner. His eyes were open wide in horror, but he couldn’t see anything other than his own guilt. I wrenched the knife from his hand. “This way. Come on, I can help you,” I said, pulling him closer step by step. With my other hand, I sliced through the pages. They fell apart with a rustle like thunder. “Through here! Please, you need to trust me,” I begged. “Everything will look different from the outside.” I stepped out into the cool, bright day, but he was still rooted to the spot. I tried to reach between the pages and pull him out, but even as my hand brushed his sleeve, he turned back to look at the dead body, and the sheets began to push against me. I managed to free my arm just in time before the whole book toppled over and slammed into the ground with an explosion of dusty air that sent me flying backwards.
I returned to that story several times but no matter how hard I tried I could never pull my friend through. He held onto the knife as a sign of his own culpability, never as a way out. I don’t know if he was framed for the murders of his friend and of his sister-­in-­law; it became unbearable for me to watch him marching inevitably towards ruin without making any effort to escape.
“You can’t keep running away from difficult situations,” someone once told me. I know that, of course I do. You can’t outrun the consequences, but neither can you deal with them until you step outside of the story that created them in the first place. And to do that you can follow any clue, no matter how small. A shoelace, a knife, a spade… that was what I used to dig my way out of a particularly sticky situation involving a space pirate and a cargo of rare flowers. That’s another story for another time, but when I emerged from the ground, looking a bit like a flower myself, I came face to face with the only other Outsider that I’ve ever met. In return for an Ongandian fire rose, she told me about a commune of Outsiders who lived on the far slope of a mountain. I could see it in the distance, rising in uneven steppes, daunting but at the same time silently challenging. “There is a wise person who lives at the top of that mountain,” she said. “If you make it up there, they will tell you which book you belong in.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know which book I belonged in, or even that I belonged in just one book, but I thanked her and headed for the mountain. As I drew near, I realized its immensity; one could spend a lifetime scaling it and not reach the top. Around the base was a thick forest of papers with razor-sharp edges. I’m sure many a traveller must have perished before they reached even the first book. I wasn’t certain of my strength or my abilities either, but I took a deep breath and remembered all the times that I had succeeded in escaping the conditions of an uncongenial story, and how it was often the lowliest hero who was the one to complete the quest. As I concentrated, first one sheet and then another folded itself inwards from its contorted shape and flapped up in a great white flock. The way was suddenly clear.
The first book plunged me straight into a medieval adventure. Threatened princes followed fast on the heels of dragons, squabbling barons, tournaments, supernatural knights, hunts and triumphal feasts. I felt that if only I could stop to think for a moment, I would be able to remember what I was in this story to accomplish, but years rolled by in rapid succession before one day, utterly exhausted, I sat by a stream to clean my wounds. I didn’t hear him creep up behind me until he picked up my lance and I felt its cold point against my neck. “Rise, fair lady,” he said. I turned to face him. He was dressed in armor, as I had been, but his stern look melted when he saw that I was hurt. “How did one so young and slight become such an accomplished adventurer?” he asked, lowering the lance. “I have heard many tales of your valour.” “Practice,” I replied simply. “I’m sure the greatest knight was young and slight once.” He smiled. “I suppose so. Yet not every young and slight page will become a great knight.” It was then I felt the change in the air around us. I searched for a rent in the story, but all I could see was the stream trickling nearby and the sheltering trees. “Do you sense something?” he asked, looking around like me. “Yes,” I said, “this has never happened before.” I was sure that I had entered another story. While before the world had pushed me to action, now it was too calm to be an adventure. The motion had moved within me; it made my heart race for no reason and filled me with the strangest feeling of heady, uncertain joy. “I feel it too,” he murmured. “So the old prophecies are true.” “What prophecies?” “It is said that the waters of this stream will heal any wound, no matter how grave, but that all who are cured by it will die ere long of a broken heart.” “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” I demanded, clutching at my heart. It ached, suddenly, as if it had been overworked. “It wouldn’t have made any difference,” he said, kicking a stone into the water. “The king and the queen tried to keep me away and you see what effect their ministrations had. One cannot escape fate.” “Nonsense,” I said. I was beginning to miss the adventure. What kind of story was this, anyway? It had been a long time since I had last tried to save anyone, but his dejectedness affected me so keenly that I felt I had to act before this sinister story took complete hold of me. I walked around until he was between me and the stream, then, with as much force as I could muster, I pushed both of us into the water. The current was stronger than I’d imagined. It dragged us along at a fast pace down the blue ribbon, and though I tried to cling tight, his armor was slippery and weighed him down, and it was I and I alone who slid, dripping and coughing along the last length of the marking ribbon and landed in a heap outside the book. I had failed once again. Except my heart still ached. I wondered whether this was a different sort of story; one that crept up on you when you weren’t seeking it, and wouldn’t let you go once you had finished with it. I realized that I had to reach the top of the mountain and find out from the wise person how to save the other knight. As I ran around the narrow path that led upwards, I came across something I hadn’t noticed before. A great chain linked the books to one another, with massive hoops that pierced each spine. Whether this was to protect them or to keep them tethered, I couldn’t tell, but I saw that it led all the way up the side of the mountain, so I began climbing, placing one foot inside a link and hauling myself up to the next one. On and on I climbed until time and thought escaped me and all that was left was the shadow of the chain and the shadow of my tiny body struggling alongside it.
At last I crested the top. The sinking sun blinded me for a moment, but it didn’t take long to realize that I was alone on top of that mountain. There was no wise person, only a cold and weary urchin with an aching heart. I put my head in my hands and wept. How was I ever going to save my knight now, when I had no idea what to do? “Don’t cry,” said a gentle voice. I spun around, looking to find who had spoken, but I couldn’t see anyone in the twilight. “You know what to do,” she said. “No, I don’t,” I wailed. “I don’t know what to do, and I’m all alone.” “No you’re not, and you know what to do,” she insisted. “Who are you?” I asked. “I am the one who answers. Ask me a question.” I was skeptical, but also a little curious. I dried my tears. “Alright. How can I rescue my knight from a tragedy?” I asked. “You know how,” she said instantly. “That’s no answer,” I said, feeling stupid and annoyed that I had fallen for her trick. “Why would I ask if I knew the answer?” “Because without the question, there is no answer.” “How can I save him? How can I save him?” “You can’t.”
I sit down on the mossy river­bank and wait. My armor glints in the sun flicking through the leaves, and when he comes, he lays his own down alongside it. “I have searched through all the kingdoms for you, and I find you just where I first met you,” he says, sitting down beside me. I smile; it eases my heart to see him again. This is important. This is what I’m here for. I take his hand and pull him towards me, and whisper in his ear: “I need to tell you a story…
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norafinds · 7 years ago
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ATWWV - Norbyah Nolasco
Last post for Around The World With Vintage series this year comes from Hong Kong via Australia with a stopover in Malaysia and USA, and I look forward to visiting more countries next year through all of you vintage lovers. I’ve chose Norbyah from I’m A Norbyah blog for many reasons - she’s a mother, a teacher, and she mixes vintage and modern so amazingly to fit her dynamic lifestyle under the sweltering temperatures of Hong Kong. She has lived in many different countries so I was curious about her experience and how she dressed for different cultures and places. I also wanted to feature someone who doesn’t wear 40s/50s as previous interviewees. I chatted to her about her family, life, career, and asked her to share her expertise on everything vintage in HK.
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Tell us a little about yourself
I’m a mother, a wife, a teacher, a strong woman, a vintage lover and eco-fashion enthusiast. Those roles (among others) define me and also influence my sartorial decisions.
Tell us about your cultural background
My mother is Australian and my father is Malaysian-Chinese. I was born in Lilydale, Victoria and I grew up in Kuantan (on the east coast) and Kuala Lumpur (the city), Malaysia. I went to an International School, so I grew up with people from all over the world. There was a large group of Swedes at our school, so their culture was very familiar to me when I lived in KL (Midsommer and Santa Lucia, the Christmas celebration). Malaysia is a melting pot, too. There are people from Southern India (Tamils), Chinese people and Malays. As a result, Malaysia has the best food. I’m always craving it when I’m not there. And, I love Durian.
How has your cultural background influenced your style?
I love prints. I was exposed to all kinds growing up in Malaysia. Batik, especially traditional batik made with stamps, is my favorite. I also love color (I think this is my Chinese side). Between the three dominant cultures present in Malaysia is a vivid kaleidoscope of style inspiration. My love for African prints is definitely a result of growing up around prints as a child. Malaysia is a Muslim country, so I also grew up being very aware of dressing modestly, out of respect for those who follow the Islamic faith. I had to wear a school uniform, so I had to think of different ways to express myself early on (accessories, shoes, hairstyles, etc).
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Norbyah wearing a skirt converted from men’s traditional Malaysian sarong fabric
How has living in Hong Kong influenced your style?
Moving to Hong Kong after living in the United States influenced my style a fair bit. Hong Kongers dress up! Everyone looks good, whether their clothes are designer brands or bought in a market. There’s never not an excuse to dress up, either. Maybe that’s part of living in a big city now, but I think it’s fun to have so many fun events happening, lots of cool places to hang out with friends, fun restaurants to try, live music to see and so on. There’s very much a creative scene here in HK.
When did you start wearing vintage?
I started wearing secondhand long before I wore vintage. As a teacher’s kid, I grew up in hand-me-downs (which is a practice I keep in place for my own children). I remember getting big bags of things from expat families and getting excited when there were name brand things in the batch. Oh, the excitement of getting an Esprit top! As a teen, I also shopped at stores that sold surplus clothing with the labels cut out (it was called The Reject Shop, but it was a goldmine of clothing). I started wearing vintage in college, when I discovered resale shops in my college town. I would often take clothes to sell and find some really awesome finds from the 70s. Likewise, all the summers we travelled back to Melbourne from Malaysia, I loved popping into and shopping at op shops there. Things were so unique and so cheap!
Is there a vintage scene in HK?
Sort of. I’ve met quite a few Etsy sellers who are based here in HK (or were at one time) by going to some of the various fairs and markets and pop up shops. We have some vintage boutiques around the area (my friend Sabrina wrote an article about them here). I’ve also taken part in Ruglane’s Vintage and Secondhand Markets as both a buyer and a seller.  So, there is a scene, but it’s limited.
How is vintage shopping in HK? Where are your favourite places to go? 
I’ll be honest, I do most of my vintage shopping in the summertime when I’m back in the States. The boutiques here have lovely curated finds, especially designer brand items, but I find that they’re pricey. Certainly a good quality vintage designer brand is worth an investment, but I kind of prefer the gems that you can find for a bargain. There’s something about digging through at the Salvo, Goodwill or Savers and finding a vintage gem which is deeply satisfying. I really love going to estate sales, too. There is a place here in HK that I like to pop into called Me and Gee. There are three branches and they mostly source Korean and Japanese vintage deadstock clothing. It’s not a cute boutique, but that’s what I like about it.
Pre-1997 HK was ruled by England - how do you think this influenced the fashion in HK? Is there a lot of English meets Chinese vintage pieces? Are there a lot of British vintage pieces still?
You know, I think that the British influence is really noticeable when you look around and see that people really pay attention to dress code for the various establishments and at the workplace. Regardless of how hot and humid it is, men will always wear suits for work. Unless people work in a more creative industry, there’s great adherence to what’s ‘work appropriate’ and no real sense of business casual. Of course, British brands are sold here, too (Jack Wills, Marks & Spencers). I haven’t really noticed too many British inspired or British meets Chinese vintage pieces around, but then again, the vintage scene here is limited as I mentioned.
How does being a mother and a teacher influence your style?
I think that these two things influence my style most. Let’s face it, teaching is not a lucrative endeavor. Being a mother to three means that we live on a budget, so wearing vintage and secondhand works perfectly with my lifestyle. I love that I can afford unique pieces that are well made and that I can look stylish for next to nothing. The fact that I can make a minimal impact on our environment is also a huge bonus for me.
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What is the biggest challenge of wearing vintage in HK?
The humidity. It’s so hot and humid for a good portion of the year, that wearing vintage (especially if it’s not a natural fabric) can really be difficult.
What is your favourite era to wear?
Right now, I’m all over the 90s. It was my decade! I feel like a teenager, back in college again. I also love the 80s, structured blazers, high waisted mom jeans (sigh). I love the 80s does 50s dresses, too. There’s so much to love. Lately I’m into the 70s kimono style bohemian looks, too. I also like to mix decades. I’m not a purist, I guess...I love any and all vintage that comes my way.
Has your style changed much since your 20s?
Yes and no. I think I’ve always taken risks with my style in a way. When I see a trend, I think about what I already have in my wardrobe that will allow me to follow a trend. When I was in my 20s, I was just starting out in my career as a teacher, so I didn’t feel as confident to really dress like myself. I had to make a good impression and look “professional” on a budget. One way I did this was to wear neck scarves with tees (haha!) I did have a moment right after becoming a mother, where I sort of lost my sense of style, let’s say. I remember having these thoughts about how as a mother I couldn’t wear certain things anymore. I had to dress practically. Not spend time worrying about how I looked. I even cut off all my hair because I thought I didn’t have time to style it. What a silly idea that was. As soon as I entered my 30s, I realized in a very real sense that other people’s judgements actually didn’t matter and that I could wear whatever I wanted.
Do you dress your kids in vintage? Do they have any interest in vintage?
My kiddos have worn a few vintage pieces here and there. When my girls were younger, there were a few lovely vintage dresses that they wore on occasion (gifts from my sisters who live in NYC). All three kids have a few hand me downs from both the hubby and I when we were kids, which definitely makes them vintage (haha!) My favorite at the moment is a little baseball hat from the 80s that used to be the hubby’s and now fits my littlest girl who is 8. I guess you could say my kids have an awareness of vintage. They come on my thrifting adventures and the girls especially love to see how far their money goes in a secondhand shop like Goodwill or Savers. We’ve got all kinds of ‘old’ things at home from vinyl records to whiskey glasses, etc. They appreciate it, but whether they’re interested remains to be seen. When we buy things (toys, clothes, trinkets, etc), we’ve grown used to thinking about how long they may be interested in said item or how much they’ll wear it, is it worth the money, and most importantly, is it a landfiller?
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I know I’ve never had a teacher who is *this* stylish!
As a teacher do your students love or notice your style? Do they know you have a blog at I’m A Norbyah?
This may sound funny coming from someone with a public online profile, but I’m actually quite self conscious about sharing my blogging with students. It’s not that I’m a private person because I share plenty about my personal life with them (as appropriate, of course), but for some reason I don’t like to share the blog. I suppose I feel a little weird broadcasting myself as a blogger because for them I’m their teacher and that’s first and foremost. If they find out, and many do, I of course share that side of things, too. I think it’s important for students to see their teachers as people with their own hobbies and interests. Teachers are pretty kick ass cool people, you know. But yeah, I do get lots of compliments. It’s very sweet. They know I’m into vintage and secondhand fashion so I get asked questions about shopping for it, style tips, etc. Some of them also know about my passion for eco fashion and I’ve worked with students and mentored their projects on sustainable fashion. It’s fun to connect with students through other areas outside of the subject I teach (Humanities).
What is the one thing you want people to know about you?
If there's one thing I want people to know about me, it's that I'm really passionate when it comes to things like my opinions, beliefs and about being a woman. I grew up empowered by my parents, but I didn't find that confidence really until I was in my 30s, so I work really hard at empowering others in my roles as a teacher, mother, wife, friend and blogger.
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