#pretty sure I could talk about Rasputin for as long as someone let me

[sundayswiththeilluminati]

Understanding Rasputin via Felwinter

I’ve always waited for someone to ask me this question but you know what, fuck it. I’m tired of waiting! I will be the asker of the question I want to answer! Let’s talk about Felwinter and the Warmind Rasputin! Because we now know Felwinter was a pre-Collapse Rasputin fragment (or more accurately a miniature model), we can analyze him to infer what Red was like before the Darkness rolled into town. 

Here’s what Felwinter tells us about AI-COM//RSPN in his glory days:

Rasputin is not just a machine; he’s a sapient being complete with emotions and desires... Felwinter has a distinct, stable personality, exhibits empathy and a (mostly) normal range of emotions, and forms genuine social bonds. Saladin notes that he has a curiously flat affect and sometimes forgets to blink, but the Iron Lords never doubt Felwinter is a person. If just a fragment of Rasputin behaves that way, we can assume Rasputin himself has the same qualities.

...but he’s not human, and doesn’t want to be. Felwinter also has uncannily still body language, machine-like tenacity and patience, and no sense of irony. While he conceals his specific connection to Rasputin, he doesn’t mask his day-to-day oddities to make people comfortable or pass as a “normal” Exo. He also doesn’t mimic human needs like eating or sleeping even though Exos are capable of doing so. He doesn’t want to be anything other than what he is.  

Rasputin is defensive, not aggressive... From his first moments as a Guardian Felwinter just wants to be left alone. He demonstrates the earliest use of Well of Radiance - taking a sword, an offensive weapon, and reversing it into a defensive tool. He participates in the military pageantry of the Iron Lords for purely pragmatic reasons. When the other Iron Lords are convinced they’ll have to attack Shaxx’s citadel, it’s Felwinter who gets them to hold off while he tries to talk Shaxx around. It’s Felwinter who tries to talk to Cosmodrome-Rasputin before the others go to take SIVA by force. Rasputin wasn’t tasked with waging war on humanity’s behalf; he was tasked with protecting humanity. He’s fundamentally built for defense. 

...but once a fight has begun, he’ll end it. Rasputin may not have any liking for violence, but he doesn’t mind it, either. In line with their general disinterest in warfare, both Rasputin and Felwinter treat conflict as a sour yet necessary chore to be dealt with as fast as possible. According to Saladin, when Felwinter joined a fight, everyone knew about it. We’ve seen Felwinter use Well of Radiance, but we also know he mentored Osiris, the most famous Dawnblade Warlock. The pull quote on Swarm of the Raven says, “With enough altitude, Felwinter's destruction would blanket the field farther than you could see.” It’s safe to assume that Felwinter dealt fiery blows from on high in many a fight. That tallies with what we know of Rasputin’s threat response: there’s the concepts of honor, valor, and military glory, and then there’s an orbital strike. Guess which one he prefers.

Rasputin ruled not out of a desire for power, but a sense of responsibility... When Felwinter finally found a mountain where Cosmodrome-Rasputin couldn’t keep throwing warsats at him, he killed the intransigent warlord who occupied it, moved in, and devoted himself to solitary research and contemplation. He initially ignored the village at the mountain’s base, but bonded over time with the woman who brought their monthly tribute. She tried to convince him his unique abilities gave him a responsibility to defend the village. Felwinter insisted he wasn’t a warlord, didn’t need the village’s tribute, and had neither a desire for its fealty nor an obligation to protect it. Then one day she didn’t come back. That’s when Felwinter takes up the protection of the village and later brings it under the umbrella of the Iron Lords; in fact their continued defense is his only major condition for joining.

Ana Bray makes an excellent point in the beginning of the Warmind DLC: “We never bothered to ask Rasputin what he wants.” Rasputin has never shown any sign he wanted to run the Golden Age. One Grimoire card called him the AIs’ “tacit king,” the “first among equals.” "Tacit” means an unofficial decision agreed upon but not spoken. “First among equals” means he held no special position or authority. In other words, Rasputin didn’t ask to be in charge; everyone just decided he was. He made Felwinter to study himself and discern if he really was the dangerous autocrat the name “Tyrant” made him out to be. Eventually Rasputin must have taken up the role others had defined for him for the same reason Felwinter took up the village’s defense: because he wanted people to be safe and believed only he had the power to do it.

...but he also acknowledges no authority greater than himself. Felwinter earned the moniker “Dark Horse” partly for his unique black chassis and partly because he was kind of the bad boy of the Iron Lords. If he decided a Lightbearer ought to die he freely ignored the Iron Decree that forbade killing Ghosts, and he did it with total confidence in his judgement. When questioned he would supply evidence that his victims had been Ghost-killers/murderers/something worse, but otherwise saw no need to ask or inform anyone else before killing them. To Saladin he simply declared it “operational necessity” and showed no guilt or remorse. Felwinter was 100% comfortable serving as judge, jury, and executioner and never doubted his assessment of the threats his targets posed or his own authority to pass sentence on them.

In one of Rasputin’s earliest Grimoire cards he says, “My will is pure. I do not obey,” and in Warmind he matter-of-factly declares, “I have no equal.” Rasputin answers to no one. He neither solicits advice nor asks permission from anyone about anything, and only rarely bothers to explain himself. He only barely has a concept of “ally” as opposed to “resource.” He has no inherent respect for or faith in the Traveler and prepares a strategy to cripple it if he deems it necessary. More recently he has at most mild interest in what the Vanguard thinks about anything, preferring to keep his own counsel on what actions will best protect humanity - humanity, not Guardians.

Rasputin will do what he thinks has to be done, regardless of ideals... Felwinter has a map of Rasputin’s moral code pre-MIDNIGHT EXIGENT, his current moral territory that permits any and all actions in service of survival, and it’s interesting to see how it runs the gamut. He displays a strong sense of duty and responsibility, seeing power as an obligation to protect rather than a tool of dominance. He doesn’t make decisions based on ego or personal considerations, easily turning over his territory to the Iron Lords as long as his conditions are met. But he also kills the warlord Citan out of hand because he believes Citan isn’t negotiating in good faith and will never stop being a threat. That matches what we know of Golden-Age Rasputin.

...but at the end of the day he genuinely wants to help. Despite his outward cynicism, Felwinter has a deep streak of genuine belief in humanity and, yes, hope for the future. If Rasputin used SIVA as bait, he must have thought Felwinter would chase it, which means he thought Felwinter would risk a great deal for a tool that could kickstart the rebuilding of human civilization - and he was right. Felwinter thinks long-term, and he’s not content with the status quo. He tells Citan he joined the Iron Lords because “they’re going to change the world.” He searches out SIVA in the quest to not just sustain but improve humanity’s situation, at a time when most of the Iron Lords were working to defend their people day-to-day.

Rasputin has a deep-seated connection to the Sun and Solar elemental energy. While he knew a few Void tricks, Felwinter was primarily a powerful Solar Warlock. Rasputin, too, is often linked to Solar. It’s not an accident that his “eye” in the Aurora Reach vault resembled the Sun (a likeness carried through in the Season of the Worthy promo graphics) or that his signature weapons - Sleeper Simulant, Felwinter’s Lie, the Valkyrie javelin - are all Solar-typed. The angelic term “seraph,” used for people or tech associated with him, literally means “the burning one.” Felwinter mentored Osiris, the archetypical Solar Warlock, and Rasputin’s best friend wields the most famous Golden Gun short of Shin Malphur himself. The guy’s got a theme.

The Solar element has a dual role of hurting and healing that mirrors Rasputin’s dual nature - half trying to guide a peaceful society, half wielding tremendous weapons of war. Rasputin also anchored the Golden Age of humanity the way the Sun anchors our solar system. Like the Sun, his influence curved everyone’s lives into certain trajectories even if he himself was a distant figure. And the same way that I’ve said before how the Sun would barely notice if every single planet exploded tomorrow...Rasputin survived the disaster that wiped out the rest of the solar system.

#Destiny 2 #Felwinter #Rasputin #bungo where is my boy #whERE IS HE #Warmind #pretty sure I could talk about Rasputin for as long as someone let me #that's probably not a normal thing #anyway have some words #words words words #ra ra Rasputin Mars' greatest war machine #this is the wager of existence

[bxllafanficc]

¡Skate/sing your hearts out! (Yuri Plizetsky x reader)

(part five)

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Masterlist

Summary: After last year's cancellation of Figure Skating Grand Prix, Yuri Plisetsky finds himself unable to bring out his inner skater after a year of doing nothing but enjoy life like a regular teenager. That's when you enter the picture; We Are Voice Grand Awards's currently hottest competitive vocalist come first place two years in a row. Just like the other competitors of Grand Prix, it turns out that Victor and Yuuri faces the same issue. With an arrangement between Victor and Yakov, they agree to travel to Japan and hire you as a mutual coach for Yuri and Yuuri to help bring back the emotion into their performances like before, maybe even more intense than ever. Yuri however, who's never experienced issues with his coaches before, for some reason finds this one particularly difficult to coexist along with in their (reasonably) odd partnership. Warnings: none

*Yuri's POV*

(One week later)

He groaned, still trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes even after breakfast. The sun was annoyingly bright today and the crowds chatting along the streets became a loud buzzing in his ears. They walk along shore at a smaller street where the typical fisherman has been standing, even years from now since Yuri saw him last. With a face mask up to his eyes and his hoodie up, it also came to be exceedingly hot underneath his disguise. Sweaty again.

In front of him walked Yuuri and Victor, sheering for him to hurry up meanwhile Victor snapped some photos behind his head on him and (Y/n). 'A selfie to remember' he said. Though the sour face of (Y/n) was far from something anyone would like to remember. Terrifying.

Right. Why? Yuri didn't exactly hit it off at its peak this morning with (Y/n) as his roommate. The cold shoulder hitting him like a slap in the face grew even larger every time he tried talk her back to normal state. A 'what's the matter with you? Stop being a drag!' Wasn't gonna get him an answer so far. Though, Yuri found himself surprised that he even made an effort into talking with her in this mood. One week with her and he's already softening up? Not great. He can't treat her as if she isn't a stranger to him, nice or not. Even if she always came at the late ending hours of his practicing at the rink and greeted him with a late snack after training. Star-shaped apple slices and a smoothie. He found it weird the first time and he still does. Every morning and every late evening because Yakov happened to mention that apples were Yuri's favorite fruit.

And this morning? Maybe he could actually admit that he screwed up. It probably could've gone better if he hadn't stolen Magnolia from her... Long story short, she was asleep with the cat in her arms and Yuri sneaked out a makeshift toy to lure him over. (Y/n) quickly noticed that Yuri was now the person cuddling the cat and she tried to call him over for his morning brush with a happy chirping sound. But Yuri had held Magnolia still when he tried to go until the cat was like 'meh whatevs' and went back to sleep in Yuri's arms. He knew now afterwards that it was already a little bit much to hold the cat back but the worst part wasn't past yet. No. The worst part was when he said 'He wants to be with me, not you, you clingy hag' and 'Maybe if you weren't so stubborn and tacky all the time he would be sprinting to you this moment instead of cuddling with his savior.' When she hadn't responded well to his words some unknown force told him to push it harder. So kept on pushing at her limits with spiteful manners and comments. He can't really understand why he'd said that now afterwards. All that came out meanwhile Yuri was still half asleep from past day's exhaustion, and he hadn't yet realized that he probably should filter the way he talk to his coach, nonetheless the,, he wouldn't say idol,, but- Nonetheless the acquaintance she is. Though he couldn't stand her. How itching and irritated he felt whenever she made her own sour looks. Isn't she supposed to be happy sunshine or what? Just get over it already, it was just an insult anyway.

But it was clear that (Y/n) took the insult to heart and has been doing so since then. At breakfast, he had received a bowl of starshaped cut apples put down harshly in front of him at the table. That along with blueberry pancakes. Why she was the one making breakfast, he didn't understand. But it had certainly not been unbearable to eat. No the opposite really. The entire Katsuki household was there along with them and everyone had been gulping it down like starved hounds. But the thing really throwing Yuri off was the fact that his appleslices were the only ones being but into starshapes. Just that she took the extra time even though or because she was upset at him?

Yuri gazed at the girl's direction as he thought of the event. 'So very unnecessary' he thought. Was it some twisted joke he didn't quite get or a revenge he didn't see coming? Because except for the apples, she had been totally snappy with him since they left for the unknown adventure Victor had described it as. And she wouldn't really have made that extra effort out of kindness judging on her mood today.

(Y/n) was very keen not to glance at him just one bit this morning since that breakfast. And when Yuri made a huge deal out of it afterwards, Victor had took him aside and whispered into his ear; 'There will come days where she won't put up with your bullshit anymore and today seems like such a situation. I don't know what you did to cause that reaction because it's quite rare. But I recommend you lay off and let her cool down on her own.' His words had been a sense of advise with a hint of bitterness in it.

Just minutes later he had gathered us four and announced that he would be taking them all somewhere to cleanse our minds and gather our thoughts. He hadn't really understood why all four would go there but that's when (Y/n) decided it was time to announce a pretty important details she almost withheld from him until now. Apparently the entire reason they chose to do this whole coaching in Japan was because she had taken Yuuri as her apprentice as well. It all seemed relevant of course. Why else would Yuri be here right now and not with her back in Russia? But it made him feel uneasy and let down for some stupid reason. Why she apparently thought it was much more important to teach Yuuri than him since they were in Japan right now. He's always gotta be the favorite even though Yuri won gold and proved himself to be better than the piglet. Victor already chose him. And clearly (Y/n) did too. But she made him believe that she came here only to coach him.

He didn't understand anything. He didn't want her coaching, didn't want to hear anything she had to say. She wasn't a real coach even. He certainly didn't want to share a room with her and he didn't want to feel relieved at the sight of her at the rink yesterday, coming to his rescue like that. He just wanted her to stop talking so much but now he couldn't stand the silence she was giving him.

Couldn't she just get her shit together?

"Ta-daaa! We're here!" Victor's shout made Yuri snap back to reality at the beat of a second. It took him a moment to understand the building the man was waving towards but soon he remembered the experiences he had there.

"No- nonono! I'm not going through that hellish session again. No damned waterfalls and no hitting me with a stick!" Yuri turned on his heels but was grabbed by the collar of his neck by a pouting Victor. (Y/n) who was clearly new to the subject gave Yuuri a hesitant look but Victor wasn't going down.

"Come on, it will be great for everyone. And I promise no hitting this time!"

'This time.' He didn't believe it one bit. He knew it was just an attempt to get him through the doors. Once in, no turning back. But if there was going to be hitting, he was secretly hoping that it would not be (Y/n) as the one doing it.

"Still no. There's no way you're getting me through those doors! Never am I ever standing under a waterfall again!"

...

The rapid flow of the water forcibly threatening to push him forwards was as cold as he remembered it. Screw the hitting with sticks, this just felt like someone rapidly slapping him across the back over and over. At least the water could've been warm. What was the deal with that anyway? He knew exactly why going here was kept a secret from him. They would never have caught him if he knew before. Now Yuri is standing in the middle, unable to escape. A quiet but intimidating (Y/n) who hasn't spoken up for hours and Yuuri who seems to actually be taking this whole thing seriously. Then there's the big question. Where is Little blondie Rasputin in the picture. The answer is right in front of him in a corner of the other side of the room. In a bubble bath taking it easy. He said that he'd be making sure we'd concentrate on opening up our minds and he'd tell us if he noticed otherwise. Yuri believed none of it. He just doesn't want to be here himself. Cause why was (Y/n) doing it if both the coaches aren't in on it. She's already in touch with herself and doesn't need it. Part of him guesses that she was participating on her own terms for some reason.

'This isn't working. I'm literally standing here thinking about everything and anything until time passes!' He thought. And...

He made the mistake of looking to his right. (Y/n) was standing close beside him with closed eyes. He was going to close his eyes as well but then he noticed how soft her skin looked. Like, all the wrinkles caused by her constant grumpy face were flattened out. Her mouth hung low and her lips were slightly parted. That made him notice her slow breathing making her chest rise and fall in a nice rhythm. Even though the water hitting his scalp shouted angrily in his ears, he was somehow able to here her melodic breathing. She was doing this the right way. And she looked completely relaxed. Almost asleep.

He kept on listening to her breathing and prayed that she wouldn't open her eyes right this moment. If so, she'd probably have realized right away how long exactly he had been staring at her.

He brushed it off and adverted his gaze, closed his eyes shut. It wasn't anything more than that. He had to get to know her at some point and her striking eyes were always too intimidating for him. He would always look away to feel less stripped of his soul in front of her. It was almost the first time he really could study her features up close, and without her knowing. (D-Did that sound weird-? anyway.)

He couldn't see her anymore but her light breath could still be heard. A part of it made Yuri think of music when he listened to it. He'll focus on that. Mach the breathing to his own.

Everything she did held a steady rhythm to it, unintentionally probably. The music was so much more than just the beautiful voice she had, but it consumed her entire being. Maybe that's why it felt so real on stage.

Does he have to let the skating consume him too? What if he loses control of what he's doing? Starts doing a different choreography or hits the wall again? What would happen if he just let go?

"I think we're done for today. Great job guys! You too Yuri!"

Well, he would never find out because he could never let that happen. Ever. If he doesn't hold control, then what does he have.

Yuuri and (Y/n) came back to reality and stepped out of the fall. Yuri followed short behind and watched the droplets of water running down the back of the girl in front of him. Her shoulders were much less tense than before they begun their session.

'If she thinks she's her to help me let go of all control and fly off the surface of the earth, then I'm sorry. For your coaching will have been in vain.'

...

Yuri was the last one out of the showers and was alone in the locker room as the piglet had already finished before him. He put one the clothes he came in since he came unprepared and set off to the main entrance. To his surprise, he found (Y/n) leaned against a nearby wall just outside the path leading the separate changing rooms apart. 'She's been waiting for me?' She still looks stern but this time Yuri's directly hit in the face by it. She's not ignoring him anymore. Her eyes are as piercing as always but not with excitement or content as usual. Yuri has to turn his head. The feeling's too much.

He walks beside her this time as well. Not a few feet behind like the way they came here.

Victor's tall back was seen outside the building through the glass doors and the two of them headed out. Yuuri was there too but they weren't alone. A large crowd of screaming teenagers as well as adults were swooning over the two skaters. Reporters and journalists were at the front struggling to ask the pair questions meanwhile guards from the center nearby held them all back. At the corner of his eye (Y/n) was turning slightly pale of the sudden screams that roared as they arrived together. As soon as Yuri was noticed the same reaction came for the second time and he joined in on the surprise. His first instinct was to run and hope none in the crowd ran faster than him. But is seemed like (Y/n) sensed his intentions before he did. A firm and calming hand was placed upon his head and as what- a warning? A threat? He looked at her and she smiled. Not to him, but to the crowd.

"Is that (Y/n) and Yuri Plisetsky?"

"Yes! But why are they in Japan? And together?"

"Aww look! They look so cute together!"

A couple pictures were taken of the two of them and Yuri was as stunned by the girl's hand as well as her warm presence towards her fans. He was even too caught up to snap her hand away.

"How long have you known each other?"

"Yuri YURI! What were you doing in there with the Aubade duchess of (nationality)?" Duchess? Right. One of her many titles created by her fan base. It's pretty funny. Why a duchess? Why not a queen or an empress? Yuri wasn't the one to complain though. He was called the Russian punk.

"(Y/n), any reason you're in Japan? Any hot news you'd like to share with us?" The woman asking leaned over the fighting arms of the guard and winked playfully at the two of them. He saw (Y/n) getting visibly  uncomfortable at the suggestive question and she stuttered, trying to come up with something smooth and contained for the reporter to use in her article. Yuri was just pissed off at how rudely this woman got all up in their private life like that. He felt like it had been put upon (Y/n) as her responsibility alone to answer that and that just made him angrier.

But the back of the tall Russian male hiding him from camera views stopped the salty defensive words he almost spit out.

"Of course! It's about time to announce anyway. On the behalf of myself and Yakov Feltsman, we're proud to announce that (Y/n) (l/n) will spend her time in Japan as coach for our competing skaters; Yuri Plisetsky and Yuuri Katsuki, in their preparations for this year's Grand Prix senior division!" Victor's worlds were happily announced to the audience and the next moment all hell of a screaming mess broke loose. The reporters rushed sideways to call their firms about the news and the guards almost failed to hold the fighting fans at bay. It all was a mess already. It went from being super private and secretive to Victor dropping the act without warning and soon the whole world would know in just a couple of minutes.

Shit.

A/N; Aaand another chapter! I have so fun writing these and it's almost like therapy session for me too:') no waterfalls though. It seems like Yuri's starting to warm up to (Y/n) right? Well... Baby steps;) What do you think will happen in next chapter? Let me know what you think!

#yurio plisetsky #yuri on ice fanfiction #yuri on ice fandom #yuri katsuki #yuriart #yurianime #yuri on ice #yuri on stage #yuri plisetsky x reader #victor nikirofov #yuuri on ice #yuuri katsuki #animelove #anime fanfic #anime icons

[smokeybrandreviews]

Smokey brand Movie Reviews: Blyat

ne of the films i was looking forward to, like, years ago was The New Mutants. If you follow this blog, then you know I'm a massive fan of Magik, the teleporting mutant sister of Colossus and Hell-Lord of Limbo. In come canon, including the main 616 Marvel universe, Illyana Rasputin is even in line to be Sorcerer Supreme. The second Fox announced there would be a New Mutants flick, i knew my darling Darkchylde had to make an appearance and, much to my joy, she would, portrayed by Anya Taylor-Joy. Perfect f*cking casting, man. And then the film was relegated to oblivion for years. Whispers of a movie that should never be screened abounded and i was loosing hope it would ever be released. I lost interest after a while but, after he Disney merger, it got a release date! And then the Wuha happened. Eventually it was dumped into theater with absolutely no fanfare. Recently, there have been digital releases and the hard copy blu rays are coming out in a few days so i bit the bullet and decided to finally check it out.

The Great

Look, i told you before, the only reason i wanted to see this movie was because of Illyana and the fact they cast Anya Taylor-Joy was straight up perfect. This sh*t is tantamount to RDJ as Iron Man or Jackman as Logan. It was just that perfect. And, like those other actors i just mentioned, she embodies Magik as a character, even if her accent is a little iffy. Magik is easily the best thing about this film and, overall quality be damned, Anya’s portrayal is worth the price of admission.

The Good

The concept of a capeflick meets horror film was a stroke of genius to me. I thought, similarly to a Doctor Strange flick, that melding of genre could be incredibly interesting. There’s a lot of potential that can be tapped there. The fact that they opted to adapt the Demon Bear arc of the New Mutants story line lent itself to a horror narrative perfectly. I was glad this was the narrative they chose to bring to the big screen first.

The visual prowess of this film is unassailable. This thing looks much more expensive than the budget they were given. Magik’s soul armor, the ethereal visage of the Demon Bear, that hellish flair of Limbo, and even the Smiley Men are all rendered with aplomb. I really enjoyed the look of this film.

The escalation of Dani’s powers was portrayed pretty earnestly. The fact that Dani Moonstar can manifest the nightmares of those around her so, having that as an anchor to this films conflict was a stroke of genius. You can get some pretty incredible visuals when the narrative revolves around the nightmares of traumatized teenagers.

There is some solid direction in this thing. You can tell that there was a story to be told and

The representation in this cast, and the cast as a whole, is amazing. I absolutely adore it. Dani is native American and they cast Blu Hunt in the role, an actual Lakota. That was dope. Dani is also, canonically, lesbian. They didn’t even shy away from this, writing a relationship with the Scottish mutant, Wolfsbane, portrayed by Maisie Williams. I was actually really surprised they would even present that aspect of the character, which frustrates me even more that this thing didn’t get the necessary attention it should have. That level of representation continues with Henry Zaga as Sunspot, both of whom are Brazilian. Even Dr. Reyes is represented by a woman of color in Alice Braga. That sh*t is dope as f*ck. I also need to mention Charlie Heaton’s Cannonball. That southern accent was hilarious. Plus, as kind of a bonus, f*cking Marilyn Manson voices the Smiley Men. What??

I just really want to emphasize how much i adored the relationship between Dani and Rahne. That sh*t was f*cking beautiful!

That f*cking Demon Bear, tho!!

LOCKHEED!!!

The Bad

The pacing in this flick is borderline schizophrenic. You never feel like you have enough time with these characters or their development but, simultaneously, we spend way too long getting to the next scene. It’s weird to see in a proper, big budget, flick tied to a blockbuster franchise like the X-Men.

This film was edited by someone with tourettes. It feels like there is a whole ass second movie that can be constructed by what’s missing from this one. It’s coherent enough but there is definitely a cut of this film that has more exposition and far more fleshed out characters

The climax, while riveting and everything i wanted to see in a New Mutants film, seems rushed. This thing should have been a whole ass spectacle but they didn’t have the budget for it, which sucks, because this thing could have been one of the best X-Films if the studio actually believed in the damn thing.

The writing in this thing is pedestrian at best. People don’t talk like this, let alone teenagers. It’s weird hearing certain things come out of these character’s mouths, like it’s forced or rushed. I think the script could have used at least one ore rewrite to really focus these characters and make them feel like proper people and not just tropes in a movie.

The Verdict

This movie feels small, almost Shyamalan-esque, but with none of the genius and all of the limitations. Watching this makes me fell all of the disappointment i felt at the end of Glass. Just like the bookend to the Unbreakable trilogy, The New Mutants has lofty ideal and well of potential but it never reaches any of that. I mean, the premise is genius, the framing mechanism is brilliant and the cast is perfect. None of it comes together in a coherent package, though. It feels all over the place, like there is no direction or focus. I can see the forest through the trees but i don’t think anyone in charge of this production could see anything other than dollar signs and it really shows. New Mutants isn’t as bad as Dark Phoenix but i can tell that this version is a completely different movie than what was originally presented and i think that film might have be absolutely terrible. New Mutants feels like a first attempt, like a Phase One MCU film. It’s not Thor, for sure, but it ain’t Iron Man ether. It;s literally about as good as Incredible Hulk. Yeah, that’s a good comparison. They’re both entertaining movies with great ideas, solid cast, and decent performances but it’s nowhere near as good as the rest of the better films in their retrospective franchises. The New Mutants is worth a watch if you’re a fan of the X-Frachise but, if you wanted to pass on it, you wouldn’t be missing much.

#Smokey brand Movie Reviews #The New Mutants

[lucarioisinthevoid]

Oh god, oh fuck, what did you ask, why did you ask this, this is instantly growing out of hand- I legally have to put it behind a “read more”. Sorry, but this gets really long for no good reason. I’m so sorry, when it’s about music, I just lose it-

- Mike scoffed. “This ask was clearly asked by someone who doesn’t listen to music. Asking for a favorite songs as though there is ANYONE on this fucking world who would go “ah yes, I have ONE song for every event that I ALWAYS want to listen to, no matter my mood.” That is absolutely ridi-“ “FREDBEAR AND FRIENDS THEME SONG!” Jeremy instantly screamed, a big smile on his face. “It’s so cute! So happy! I love it so much!” I’ll be your friend, right to the end! Join the party! Don’t be afraid, we’ll find a way! Join the party! Follow the pack, we’ll have a blast! Join the party! I’m here for you, we’ll make it through! JOIN THE PARTY!

Irritated Mike glared at him. “Is that even a song? Technically speaking? It’s a fucking INTRO.” This disagreement was quickly dismissed by Jeremy. “No, it is a song that I love very much.” There was an annoyed sigh, but not much pushback. “… fine. I have a SHITTON of songs I like, but… I think my currently favorite song is… ULTRAnumb by Blue Stahli. I don’t know. It hits just right.” VIOLATED! SO DEGRADED! The show has just begun! (Three, two, one!) DOMINATED BY ALL YOU HATED! This will make you ULTRANUMB!

Phone Guy seemed a bit embarrassed. “U-uhm… I don’t, uh, listen to much music. I really like the stuff they put in the background of documentaries is actually pretty impressive stuff. I like that, but I can’t really… access that? I mean, I don’t know how to. But I like having something calming in the background.” So… soundtracks, huh? There are pretty good soundtracks, like “Winds over Neo Tokyo” from the movie Akira- “I think though as a SONG, I really like… a bit dumb probably, but “Feel Good Inc.” by Gorillaz? It’s probably pretty standard… but, uh. I like the light distortion. Makes it easy to sing along. And I kinda, uh- relate to the feeling of hopelessness in it…” Windmill, windmill for the land… Turn forever hand in hand! Take it all in on your stride, It is ticking, falling down Love forever, love has free, Let’s turn forever you and me! Windmill, windmill for the land Is everybody in…? “Uh- I know the song is probably about something completely else, but I just-“ Scratching the back of his neck, Phone Guy looked away. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Materializing out of thin air, Nemo proceeded to T-pose. “YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT MUSIC. YES. MY TIME HAS COME. I have the best taste from everyone here. I have the EDGY music.” Getting out his MP3-player, he began searching through the music library. “Ah, there we go. This one. “Arrested Youth” – The Kid I Used To Know. That the one!” Life is a voyage some people try to avoid it- I seek to try and destroy it, I swear I feel like a toilet bowl, Shitting on everything I’ve ever said or I’ve done You told me this should be fun! Thanks for the talk, are we done?! This is my masterpiece, a tragedy, I wrote it myself, It’s full of irony and blasphemy, it’s practically hell, But the perfect part about it is it’s all that I’ve got! I’m over wasting time in life trying to be something I’m not!

‘Cause fuck that shit! Yeah, I don’t want be that kid. No, I’m not going to hang my head, And be another accident!

So long to the kid that I used to know! So long to the place that I used to go! I’m not an R.I.P. I’m not another sick, sad tragedy! “The song is great, I absolutely relate to it.” The teen laughed. “Especially the tone of the singer. Really fits me. I could imagine writing songs like that myself!” A bit too excited, he began oversharing. “I always wanted to write songs. And I did! A lot, kept them in a little book.” His expression broke a bit. “… then I lost it. At home. Somehow.” He turned a bit bitter. “Yeah. Asked mom. She didn’t see it. Asked dad. Of course, he had NO idea. Anyways.” He threw his bitterness away with a shrug. “Now you know the reason why I’m actually not rich and famous yet. I lost like… 3 years of absolute riches to that setback and I feel stolen from. The world OWES me and castle and I WILL get it. But until then, I guess I listen to other artists like me!”

Dave was jumping up and down excited. “Oh, oh, Anon Sport, you don’t even KNOW how many I have! Like everything Sportsy whistles! And Rasputin- that one- oh, oh, no, in one car I stole there was a CD- and they had a group- Royal Republic? Funky songs, pal, lemme tell ya. Listen to it while rushing down the highway, it made it some of my favorites! The best is “Good to be Bad” though, no contest!” Oh lord come help me die! I can’t believe my eye! I’m not the same that I was when I got here! I´ve made a dirty mess, My lord I do confess, I know I’ve been bad, So bad! I’m not the only one! I’m not the bastard-son! The other kids made me do things that I don’t usually do… Misunderstood, I’m the plague of the neighborhood! And it feels so good! So good! “Seein’ Sporty making a flip in the running car while this was playin’ was somethin’ MAGICAL!”

Marion scoffed. Was he even included in “the gang”? Well, if Jeremy was, so was he. “Seeing as I never had much choice in listening to the music I could like, I don’t really have a taste. Everything that isn’t nursery rhymes made into songs is GREAT. Especially if it has nothing to do with music boxes.” It still calmed him down to hear music like that, but he developed a bit of a grudge against it. Sure, he and Jeremy were working on that, but he really couldn’t call it his favorite kind of music. “… well, Dave oftentimes played the CD he just mentioned while transporting me. I guess I liked a few songs from there? Somewhat? “Everybody Wants to Be an Astronaut” was pretty good.” I can feel my body shiver, the lights are everywhere! They marvel at my heartbeats inside the atmosphere… And I’m looking at the world, in a way you never could! I knew I’d be a traveling man, but I misunderstood… So tell me, why is it we’re never happy?

‘Cause everybody wants to be an astronaut! And take the long tall trail into the stars! Everybody wants to show a brother what they got! Everybody wants to be an astronaut! Marion looked away. What he kept for himself was that he really disliked the last line. Everybody wants to be a superstar! No. None of the kids wanted to be a superstar. … ‘cause everybody’s happy when they’re playing the guitar! Everybody but them. Everybody. But them. So tell me, why is it we’re never happy?

Old Sport smiled, for a moment a bit sadly. “Oh, it used to be “Not too late” by Lemaitre.” Not Too Late my friend! Take it up and try again! I’ll stand right here… While you walk to face the end, As the skys clear up again I’ll disappear- And have a go again… Snapping out of his emotional side, he laughed. “But now I actually have TASTE, thus it’s TAYLOR SWIFT’S “Look what you made me do”, RIGHT MIKEY-“ “YOU HATE THAT SONG TOO, ADMIT TO IT. YOU FUCKING HATE IT. ESPECIALLY THE REFRAIN. IT’S ALL SUCH UTTER SHIT, YOU ONLY PUT IT ON TO FUCKING TORMENT ME. FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!” “Like clockwork. It’s a thing of beauty.” He laughed until Mike quieted down from the back, then looked back at the Anon. “But seriously, why did you even include me. You know what it is! THE CLASSICS! “All Star” and “Never Gonna Give You Up”! Well, maybe with a dash on “We are number one” for good measure. You know, the songs people with TASTE listen to.”

Ethan was sitting in the back, looking at the golden guard badge he had received for signing up with the company. Quietly he sung. “Sven Korner was in the newspapers this Monday Big picture from a time he danced the waltz Yes, he took the life of Victoria Come home, explain to Christiania “Come here, officer, here are thousand bucks I’ve saved” And give me Korner, and give me him soon!” He closed his hands around the badge. “It’s a song by Kaizers Orcherstra. I just happened to stumble over it- originally it’s in the Norwegian language- I do not even know how I found the translation. But I like it a lot. It helps me work.” He hadn’t found her. He wasn’t even quite sure in what kind of afterlife he was. But it gave him great satisfaction to know the man who did this to his daughter was in a far, far worse place. “I know what’s in store for you… I know what it is you’re hoping for, I know what’s in store for you.

Oh, you have a tune you think everybody will follow! But I wouldn’t follow that tune, not on my life! We’re playing poker with a revolver, Having no respect for Fredrik Meltzer… Now you shall dance to our tune 'till you bleed! You shall dance Ompa 'till you Die!

Think about it, Sven, how good it will be in Heaven… I hope you fold your hands before you go to bed… Cause it can get hot down here. It can be hot down here. Sven, it can get hot as hell down here!” -

Henry leaned back bemused. “The best thing about this ask is certainly that everyone now knows what a horrible taste you have.” Says the guy who has his head so far up his ass that he basically only listens to classic. “Oh, no. I listen to everything. But at least I acknowledge that everything I hear has some form of merit, even if it is not my taste. You however, do not, thus you can be shamed for your taste.” Screw you.

#the Group #rip your dashboard

[smokeybrand]

Smokey brand Movie Reviews: Blyat

One of the films i was looking forward to, like, years ago was The New Mutants. If you follow this blog, then you know I'm a massive fan of Magik, the teleporting mutant sister of Colossus and Hell-Lord of Limbo. In come canon, including the main 616 Marvel universe, Illyana Rasputin is even in line to be Sorcerer Supreme. The second Fox announced there would be a New Mutants flick, i knew my darling Darkchylde had to make an appearance and, much to my joy, she would, portrayed by Anya Taylor-Joy. Perfect f*cking casting, man. And then the film was relegated to oblivion for years. Whispers of a movie that should never be screened abounded and i was loosing hope it would ever be released. I lost interest after a while but, after he Disney merger, it got a release date! And then the Wuha happened. Eventually it was dumped into theater with absolutely no fanfare. Recently, there have been digital releases and the hard copy blu rays are coming out in a few days so i bit the bullet and decided to finally check it out.

The Great

Look, i told you before, the only reason i wanted to see this movie was because of Illyana and the fact they cast Anya Taylor-Joy was straight up perfect. This sh*t is tantamount to RDJ as Iron Man or Jackman as Logan. It was just that perfect. And, like those other actors i just mentioned, she embodies Magik as a character, even if her accent is a little iffy. Magik is easily the best thing about this film and, overall quality be damned, Anya’s portrayal is worth the price of admission.

The Good

The concept of a capeflick meets horror film was a stroke of genius to me. I thought, similarly to a Doctor Strange flick, that melding of genre could be incredibly interesting. There’s a lot of potential that can be tapped there. The fact that they opted to adapt the Demon Bear arc of the New Mutants story line lent itself to a horror narrative perfectly. I was glad this was the narrative they chose to bring to the big screen first.

The visual prowess of this film is unassailable. This thing looks much more expensive than the budget they were given. Magik’s soul armor, the ethereal visage of the Demon Bear, that hellish flair of Limbo, and even the Smiley Men are all rendered with aplomb. I really enjoyed the look of this film.

The escalation of Dani’s powers was portrayed pretty earnestly. The fact that Dani Moonstar can manifest the nightmares of those around her so, having that as an anchor to this films conflict was a stroke of genius. You can get some pretty incredible visuals when the narrative revolves around the nightmares of traumatized teenagers.

There is some solid direction in this thing. You can tell that there was a story to be told and

The representation in this cast, and the cast as a whole, is amazing. I absolutely adore it. Dani is native American and they cast Blu Hunt in the role, an actual Lakota. That was dope. Dani is also, canonically, lesbian. They didn’t even shy away from this, writing a relationship with the Scottish mutant, Wolfsbane, portrayed by Maisie Williams. I was actually really surprised they would even present that aspect of the character, which frustrates me even more that this thing didn’t get the necessary attention it should have. That level of representation continues with Henry Zaga as Sunspot, both of whom are Brazilian. Even Dr. Reyes is represented by a woman of color in Alice Braga. That sh*t is dope as f*ck. I also need to mention Charlie Heaton’s Cannonball. That southern accent was hilarious. Plus, as kind of a bonus, f*cking Marilyn Manson voices the Smiley Men. What??

I just really want to emphasize how much i adored the relationship between Dani and Rahne. That sh*t was f*cking beautiful!

That f*cking Demon Bear, tho!!

LOCKHEED!!!

The Bad

The pacing in this flick is borderline schizophrenic. You never feel like you have enough time with these characters or their development but, simultaneously, we spend way too long getting to the next scene. It’s weird to see in a proper, big budget, flick tied to a blockbuster franchise like the X-Men.

This film was edited by someone with tourettes. It feels like there is a whole ass second movie that can be constructed by what’s missing from this one. It’s coherent enough but there is definitely a cut of this film that has more exposition and far more fleshed out characters

The climax, while riveting and everything i wanted to see in a New Mutants film, seems rushed. This thing should have been a whole ass spectacle but they didn’t have the budget for it, which sucks, because this thing could have been one of the best X-Films if the studio actually believed in the damn thing.

The writing in this thing is pedestrian at best. People don’t talk like this, let alone teenagers. It’s weird hearing certain things come out of these character’s mouths, like it’s forced or rushed. I think the script could have used at least one ore rewrite to really focus these characters and make them feel like proper people and not just tropes in a movie.

The Verdict

This movie feels small, almost Shyamalan-esque, but with none of the genius and all of the limitations. Watching this makes me fell all of the disappointment i felt at the end of Glass. Just like the bookend to the Unbreakable trilogy, The New Mutants has lofty ideal and well of potential but it never reaches any of that. I mean, the premise is genius, the framing mechanism is brilliant and the cast is perfect. None of it comes together in a coherent package, though. It feels all over the place, like there is no direction or focus. I can see the forest through the trees but i don’t think anyone in charge of this production could see anything other than dollar signs and it really shows. New Mutants isn’t as bad as Dark Phoenix but i can tell that this version is a completely different movie than what was originally presented and i think that film might have be absolutely terrible. New Mutants feels like a first attempt, like a Phase One MCU film. It’s not Thor, for sure, but it ain’t Iron Man ether. It;s literally about as good as Incredible Hulk. Yeah, that’s a good comparison. They’re both entertaining movies with great ideas, solid cast, and decent performances but it’s nowhere near as good as the rest of the better films in their retrospective franchises. The New Mutants is worth a watch if you’re a fan of the X-Frachise but, if you wanted to pass on it, you wouldn’t be missing much.

[bi-bi-richie]

The Stars and the Moon, He Hung Them Just For You ( 7 / 12 )

“Wow yourself,” Eddie said with a dreamy sigh in his voice. “I missed you.”

“You miss me after a night?” Richie chuckled a little, he almost didn’t believe that, but he never doubts Eddie. Eddie and his unfamiliar, addicting touch and perfect everything. He believes it. He believes anything Eddie would say to him.

“What can I say? You’re addicting,” Eddie whispers

Playlist - Ao3

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 10 - 11 - 12 

Tag list

@ra-ra-rasputine @eddie-kas @reddie-boi

Quick note - Sorry this chapter took so long to get out! My baby sister was recently born and I really focused all my attention on her, obviously. But I’m back and I will be updating regularly!

Walking into work shouldn’t be much different than any other normal day. In fact, everything is exactly the way he left it the past Friday. The building was in the same order as before, the same people were clocking in for their shifts and even leaving for their early lunch break. To any normal person, this looks like an average day for the museum, and it was! The only reason today was so special was because Richie Tozier was waltzing in with the promise of being able to see his amazingly fantastic new boyfriend. Sure, it had only been a few hours but Richie couldn’t take it! How could anybody suddenly get the cutest boyfriend ever and then not wanna spend every moment of the day with them?

As expected, Richie quickly lost his train of thought the minute he turned the corner and saw perfect Eddie Kaspbrak’s face almost completely slam into his own.

“Shit!” Richie cried out as he stumbled backward before he could collide with him. He felt his face heat up when he met Eddie’s… interestingly slanted eyes.

“S-Sorry, Eds, I-” in an instant, Eddie’s lips were on Richie’s. Richie almost fell straight to the ground with how forceful the sudden kiss was, but he was quick to move his lips right against Eddie’s. Richie felt himself moan into the kiss, after all, it was a damn good kiss. He wonders how Eddie became such a damn good kisser, but something tells him and his ego that he might not want to ask that question.

“Wow,” Richie gasped when they pulled apart, making Eddie let out the precious giggle he loved so much.

“Wow yourself,” Eddie said with a dreamy sigh in his voice. “I missed you.”

“You miss me after a night?” Richie chuckled a little, he almost didn’t believe that, but he never doubts Eddie. Eddie and his unfamiliar, addicting touch and perfect everything. He believes it. He believes anything Eddie would say to him.

“What can I say? You’re addicting,” Eddie whispers before leaning in and pressing their lips against each other one last time. It’s a shorter kiss, but it leaves Richie light in the head and in his step. When they pull away, Richie slides his hand right into Eddie’s and smiles.

“You don’t seem very up to the challenge of having a secret relationship,” he giggles. Truthfully, he thinks it’s cute Eddie can’t keep his hands to himself already, but he’d hate to get caught during their first day dating at work.

“Baby, I can take on any challenge for you.”

…

“Okay, that’ll be $13.45 please,” Richie spoke sweetly to the guest. A month ago he had trouble speaking to them at all, but Eddie’s subtle coaching between customers really made things easier. He can’t truly show Eddie how thankful he is for it, but he guesses he can pay Eddie back in kisses.

Speaking of Eddie, the boy is absolutely lovesick. He rests his head on his right hand and watches Richie hand the woman in front of him her change and acts like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Not that Richie hates it, quite the opposite actually, he just can’t help but think about how he’s doing a poor job of hiding their relationship.

“Have a great time,” Richie tells the guest as they walk past him into the doors that are quick to shut behind her, given that she’s the last customer for the current show time.

“I’m terrible at this, aren’t I?” Eddie asks when he hears the click of the door. Richie throws his head back and barks out a laugh.

“Yeah, but that’s okay,” he promises, sending Eddie a wink that lights both their faces up in a blush.

“I like when you joke,” Eddie admits quietly, taking initiative and walking towards his boyfriend. “It suits you, y’know? Laughing, joking, enjoying yourself. All of it fits you.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, Richie doesn’t think someone’s kind words are being pulled from pure pity. For once, he feels like the words are genuine and he can’t find it in himself to ask if Eddie is lying. Because, why would him, Eddie Perfect-Angel Kaspbrak, lie to Richie?

“You bring it out of me, Eds.”

…

Another show time was starting, which meant another swarm of guests were rushing to get tickets and good seats before it started. Most guests looked the same every time, Richie began to characterize them into groups. First, there’s the tired mom with six-thousand kids that occasionally gets an attitude with him, they’re the worst visitors and often get kicked out for their kid’s rowdy behavior. The next is a split between two different teenagers, the first teenager is the one who is there because they’re genuinely interested in the exhibit and actually likes astrology, Richie likes this teenager. The next is the teenager who openly shits on other people for not getting off their phones and enjoy what’s right in front of them, they’re the same person who brags about reading classic books and hates any other book that isn’t some Shakespearean play they can’t understand. Richie hates that teenager and hates when they talk to him. Another category is a more miscellaneous category, consisting of kids on a field trip or two people on a sweet date (that reminds Richie all too much of that one day in the planetarium with Eddie), they’re probably the better category. Now, Richie’s least favorite category isn’t a category at all, it’s this new regular who only comes in for a few minutes of flirting with Eddie.

Richie hates him.

The guy, Jacob, is back on this particular day, and of course, he’s waiting in Eddie’s longer line even though Richie’s line has half the people in it. Richie feels a little better about hating this guy today because the last time he saw his ugly mug he wasn’t dating Eddie. Well, now Eddie is his boyfriend and he’ll let himself shoot daggers at him.

“Eddie!” Jacob exclaims loudly, making Richie cringe and glare harder. Luckily, he was the last visitor for the show time, so Eddie really only had to get through him so they can start talking again.

“Oh, hi,” Eddie says nicely but with no emotion behind it. Eddie himself may or may not of told Richie that Jacob annoys him, and Richie doesn’t know it but Jacob really only annoyed Eddie because he is head over heels for Richie.

“How have you been? Don’t say fantastic, I mean, you’re still working here,” Jacob laughed as he handed Eddie his money. Richie really hoped none of their bosses were around to hear that, god knows they won’t understand and assume Eddie hates his job.

“Oh, it’s not all bad.” Eddie said, taking money from Jacob’s hand, “I’ve met some pretty fantastic people here.”

Richie looks over and sees Eddie smiling right at his boyfriend, and Richie feels his stomach do flips.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ve met some interesting customers.” Eddie rolls his eyes at Jacob’s remark which makes Richie chuckle. He’s gotta admit, the way Eddie reacts to people makes Richie fall deeper and deeper for his boyfriend.

“You should really join me in the planetarium sometime, Eddie. I mean, you can’t tell me it wouldn’t be nice.”

“I’m working, but thanks,” Eddie says bluntly, handing Jacob his ticket without being kind or gentle.

“Oh, I’m sure your friend here wouldn’t mind.” Jacob insists, looking over at Richie and smirking as if he knows Richie’s into Eddie. Too bad he didn’t know that Richie was literally dating Eddie.

“Your show is starting,” Richie stated calmly, though he felt heat boil in his head and stood taller than Jacob, hoping to intimidate him even if it was cheesy and stupid.

Jacob looked over to Eddie expectantly, but Eddie only nodded his head to the door as a way to send him off. Jacob sighed and dropped his horrible smirk and walked off, leaving the two boys alone and giggling once the door shut.

“God, I hate him,” Eddie said with a smile and walked over to his boyfriend to pull him into a hug. Richie giggled a little more and wrapped his arms around Eddie’s smaller body.

“Me too, he’s lucky I didn’t kiss you right in the middle of that.” Eddie barks out a laugh and nods his head, Richie feels so lucky to hear his laughs and giggles again. He loves them so much.

Maybe he loves something else too.

Or, maybe someone.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #my writing #the stars and the moon #it 2017

[megbox]

2019 Year in Review

Previous Posts: (2018) (2017) (2016) (2015) (2014) (2013) (2012) (2011) 

It’s actually kind of interesting how... less interesting these year-in-reviews get as I get older. Depending on how you look at it, 2019 was somewhat of an unremarkable year. I spent much of it tragically broke, I didn’t get the opportunity to do much traveling. But at the same time, not having these flashy, colourful experiences to write about all the time makes me value the easy, simple things more. It forces me to be a bit more reflective about how the day-to-day life I am carving out for myself teaches me things and about the person I am becoming. 

Far and away, the most positive thing to come out of 2019 has been that I am real deals social worker now. I have the best job in the entire world. I have “RSW” in my email signature and on my business cards. I do work that is meaningful to me every single day. There is so much to learn but I’m in the right place to be learning it. And I am really proud of myself for getting here ❤️

January 

Unlike the last few years, 2019 began on a high note. The millisecond that student loan hit my direct deposit, I took a little trip to Jasper to visit my friend Oliver who was teaching snowboarding at Marmot Basin for the season. I braved some very treacherous roads to make it to Jasper. It took me nearly eight hours. Highway 93 was closed so I had to take the long route and basically white-knuckled it the whole way. But it was so worth it. I found myself later that evening in a dorm room full of young Scandinavian people, downing American Vintage iced teas and feeling like I was at a frat party. We went to this club called Four Peaks and they played Rasputin by Boney M and everyone went crazy. I hooked up with this gorgeous Danish ski instructor named Rasmus. He was so beautiful. I am proud of that one, honestly. Oliver and I went skiing and hiking and we went to Earl’s and he tried a Caeser. By the end of the weekend, I think we maybe ran out of things to talk about. But it was really cool to see him and to hear about the last few years of his life and how excited he was to move to New Zealand to be with his girlfriend (whom he met on the same trip where he and I met, in Hawaii!)

On January 14, I started my second practicum. It was a sad transition. My time at CommunityWise had been so great that anything new was going to pale in comparison but my new placement was especially bad. It was so slow there. My computer hadn’t been updated in years and I didn’t have access to anything for weeks. My supervisor was barely around (not her fault, though. She was finishing her MSW, had two young children, was the team lead for both family centres in the city and had two practicum students to supervise. Girl was busy). I remember one morning while I was helping one of the caseworkers with some menial task like organizing the food pantry, and I was just so frustrated, I kind of asked her point-blank, “Is this practicum meant to be more self-directed?” and I just started crying as I asked it. I kind of… whimpered it. It was awkward but from that point on, they made way more of an effort to give me tasks and engage me in the work that was being done there. Lesson learned: you get what you ask for.

February  The first weekend of February is what we would call a “power weekend.” Looking back on these actions now, I cringe. However, at the time, I was pretty stoked. I slept with a friend from podcast club after a house party. For ease, I will refer to him as W. W had asked me out twice prior to this happening. I actually said yes, and we had plans to get drinks, but his best friend ended up going through a breakup the night before and he cancelled last minute. So then we slept together. Drunkenly. And it wasn’t… good. I chalked it up to the drunkenness. We went out on a real date, I made sure to have like one glass of wine maximum. He was lovely and great company and he taught me how to play crib but… you know that feeling when you’re like god, I wish I was enjoying this but I am just not enjoying this. It was like that all night. And it felt heavy. If I am being completely honest, there was also this strange moment that night where I had the thought, “he kind of looks like my grandfather if he were younger” and there is truly no recovering from that kind of realization.

February was also a terrible month because I had no days off. I will go to my grave angry about being required to work for free in my practicums. I was doing 32+ unpaid hours at this boring practicum and then working evenings and weekends at Famoso whenever I could. And Famoso was dead, so I wasn’t even making good money. This was also where I began to start witnessing things in my practicum that started to fuck with me. At first, I thought I was just having trouble sleeping. But over time in seminar and debriefs with my social work friends who were going through the same thing I realized that it was the oh-so-pleasant combination of vicarious trauma and compassion fatigue. 

Over the reading week, I went to Fernie with Maddy and her friends for a ski/party weekend and that was truly awesome. One of those weekends where your ribs ache for days once you’re back because you laughed so hard. Some highlights: 

It snowed 60cm the night before we skied. It was powder up to your waist. 

• Maddy’s friend Melissa liked our bartender at the hostel. She took his phone and texted herself from it so he would have her number and vice versa. Then she got so drunk that later the same evening, she was looking at the text and forgot that she had sent it to herself so she texted back, “Who is this?” Also LOL #Bryna. 

• I took nudes of Maddy in the hostel shower to send to the guy she was seeing at the time. LOL. What are friends for? 

• Maddy and I met this set of twins who are the definition of gym bros. Identical twins. We ended up hooking up with them. At the same time. In our bunk bed at the hostel. We high fived. I later fell off the top bunk. We gave them a beer for the road when they left. All year long, we send one another their Instagram posts and stories whenever it’s them flexing in the gym mirror and just laugh about, “we really slept with those guys.” 

March 

In March, I got the flu. It was very annoying. I had to miss practicum (meaning I’d have to make up the hours somehow later). I stated binge watching Grey’s Anatomy. 

I ended things with W. It was kind of harsh but it needed to be done. I need to stop breaking up with people in the weeks prior to my birthday because we had a total Dave-Simard-2.0 situation where W told me he had purchased a birthday present for me and he still wanted to give it to me.

I also ran the St. Patrick’s Day Road Race again!!! Good times as always. 

Practicum got much better in March. I had many things to do. I got to design the curriculum for and facilitate a six-week girl’s group. I assisted with the planning and running of a series of community tax clinics which was cool. Except the guy from the agency whose project it was is a creep. He kept telling me all of these stories that were incredibly inappropriate given the fact that we knew each other only in a professional sense. He made many comments about women’s bodies and appearances that were gross. And I got left in some pretty unsafe situations all by myself. AND he made me pay out of pocket for snacks for one of the tax clinics and never reimbursed me for that. I kind of forgot about that until just now. Wow. 

April 

April was a big month! 

I went to Portland for my birthday weekend with Matt and Connor. When I think back to this trip, it was lovely, but mostly what I remember is a lot of beer, a lot of rain, and being hungover. Portland is a really cool city. I wasn’t totally expecting to be confronted with as much homelessness and substance use as I was but, that’s my privilege talking. Some highlights from the trip include: 

• The “Flower in the Kettle” IPA I had. 

• The mascarpone, corn and lobster agnolotti I had for my birthday dinner at A Cena. Recommended to me by a trusted friend I worked with at Famoso. So rich. SO FUCKING GOOD. 

• Meeting this really drunk real estate agent at a dive bar and convincing her that Matt and Connor were both my boyfriends. I still have her business card in my wallet. I am unsure why. 

• The Weezer concert was honestly awesome. 

• Matt actually trying out the guyliner. 

• Meeting some random guy when I went to get gum at a corner store. His name was Dan. He was old. His girlfriend had kicked him out and he was just walking around. He’d been in prison for a lot of his life. We had a good chat. I got his phone number and now we have each other on Facebook. 

• In the airport on the way home, Matt and I were so overtired that absolutely everything was hilarious. The gif game (the gif of Kevin from The Office dropping the bucket of chili. “Me in Thailand”), and the beginning of when I got let in to the “KEVIN!!!!” joke. I had tears in my eyes. 

• Connor yelled at me in a pizza restauraunt LOL (sorry Connor. I know you Ctrl+F your name. But this was memorable to me.) 

In the middle of April, I FINISHED MY PRACTICUM HOURS AND EFFECTIVELY GOT MY DEGREE. I cannot describe to you how good it felt to be driving home from one of those tax clinics after my third twelve-hour day (making up practicum hours is fun) knowing I never had to go back. Knowing that soon enough, I’d get to work on all the same cool projects but actually get paid for my time.

We visited Saskatoon for Easter, which would turn out to be the last time I got to see my Baba. She was very ill, and both of us knew that it would likely be the last time, so I did get to say my goodbyes. It was very difficult and I sobbed for a lot of the ride home. It’s a weird feeling, when someone you love has been so ill for so long, and you begin to see their condition really deteriorate. When the idea of life without that person starts to become a reality. There was almost an… acceptance? It sounds so callous to say and it’s way more complex than this but also somewhat of a relief in the finality of it. I don’t know. It was a lot. 

April was also when I started interviewing for social work jobs. I had two interviews. The first one was at CCASA, essentially for what I thought was my dream job. I have never psyched myself out so hard for anything in my life. I thought about that interview and that interview alone for weeks. I studied harder than I have for any test ever. When the time came for the interview, I was so nervous. I became this meek and mild version of myself. It was honestly devastating. But of course, had I gotten that job, I would never have interviewed at the University of Calgary. My boss-to-be called me for a pre-interview while I was on shift at Famoso. It was busy, too. But I just said fuck it and ducked into the back and talked to her on the phone for twenty minutes. She invited me for an interview a week later where I had to give a five-minute presentation on managing stress as a student. Rock on. 

May 

On May 1, I got offered THE JOB AT THE UNIVERSITY OF CALGARY! It was truly one of the happiest moments of my life. There is nothing more satisfying and exciting than actually attaining something you’ve been dreaming of for so long. It was for a one year contract on a maternity leave coverage, facilitating community trainings around suicide prevention, helping skills, all that good stuff. I was going to be on salary. I was going to have benefits. I WAS GOING TO BE ABLE TO WALK TO WORK AND HAVE A REAL CAREER THAT I WOULD BE PROUD OF AND EXCITED ABOUT.

I hung up the phone after accepting the job, texted all the requisite people about the good news, and then immediately drove to Famoso to quit. My boss at Famoso was angry with me because I did not give two weeks notice. I said I would work out the rest of my scheduled shifts. He was a jerk, he yelled at me in frustration saying, “You work here for five fucking years, we accommodate every trip, every vacation, every practicum and you don’t even have the courtesy to give me two weeks notice?!” It wasn’t a big deal though. He was just being an asshole. And hey, Steve, you’re still an asshole!

So my last day serving tables at Famoso Westhills was May 3, 2019. I’m usually not good with goodbyes but it was the easiest thing in the world to just walk out of there at the end of the night knowing I would never be back. I had ten days until I started my actual job at the University (a bit of an oversight on my part because I had ~no money~ so what the fuck was I going to do with ten days).

My grandmother passed away on May 19, 2019. Back to Saskatoon on May 28 for the funeral. It was really fucking sad and really fucking weird to see all of my cousins crying. My grandma also had a big Catholic funeral and none of us are particularly religious and as the direct relatives of the deceased we were at the front of the church and it was really obvious none of us had any idea when to kneel vs. stand and didn’t know any of the words or tunes to the songs.

On a happier note, my brother was accepted into medical school in May. Not that I ever doubted my brother would be a successful person, but this just really solidified it. Dr. MacKay.

June 

June was rather uneventful. I was honestly so cripplingly broke at this point, and it was so long before I actually saw a full salaried paycheck. I had to borrow money from my parents just to like, function. And pay my bills. It was embarrassing. But I was working full time and learning so many cool things about the job that it made it alright.

I walked the stage on the first week of June and accepted my BSW degree. I didn’t want to go but it was actually a pretty awesome and happy occasion.

The other big thing that happened in June is that Maddy moved to Australia. It sucks that I only met Maddy in the summer of 2018. She is so awesome and we became so close so quickly. I genuinely love her so much and spending time with her is so easy and fun, it was really sad when she left knowing that it was highly possible she may never return or at least not for several YEARS.

July 

By July, my new job was in full swing. I was facilitating trainings every other day (so much public speaking experience!), I was sitting on a committee, every day was new and challenging and exciting. 

My dad had a giant party for his 60th birthday, with some friends even coming from Saskatoon. They rented a limousine that took us to the Black Diamond hotel because apparently my parents have some kind of significance there. I did a shot with my grandfather? We played pool and Big Buck hunter? None of my friends came but all of my brother’s friends came and I honestly think that it turned the tables in terms of who my parents’ favourites are in terms of friends. 

I also had an awesome weekend at Folk Festival mostly with Kendal and Lachlan but also featuring guest appearances from Chad and Gillian. Podcast club pals. There is just nothing better than folk festival, honestly. Food trucks and music in the sun and drinking sangria from a flask and admiring everyone’s cool outfits and getting a tan and listening to concerts all day. I had a nap in the middle of the afternoon on Sunday and it was like the most glorious 45 minutes of my entire year. 

August 

Oh, no. August. I was still cripplingly broke (it takes a long time to catch up to a point where your entire paycheck is not just going to paying back things you’ve borrowed) and I made the utterly stupid decision to go to a music festival. 

Big Valley Jamboree, baby. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the best weekend that I am never ever doing again. Some highlights: 

• Mere minutes after arriving, I watched a man vomit. 

• The “Tony Keith” joke really took off. Lucas and I were so #inone on the Friday night we kept yelling and trying to start chants (“old man graphics!” is my personal favourite in response to Toby Keith’s random, pro-military Americana concert graphics).

• I gave my phone to somebody and then wandered off in search of this stupid boy’s campsite. I got very, very lost. The BVJ campground is a large place. I had no idea where I was going and was literally just stumbling through the dark and the mud. I ended up in the middle of some middle-aged Newfoundlanders’ campsite. They welcomed me. They offered me and sandwich and several beers. We chatted for like an hour. It was the best. I walked for SO LONG and finally found my own campsite. But we’re talking literally hours of walking around blind and disoriented. There were a few moments when I genuinely thought I was going to have to wait until the sun came up. 

• A few less-than-classy moments in porta potties. 

• The HANGOVERS. Jesus lord. I couldn’t survive. 

• Airwaves guy was great and I also had a really good buffalo chicken poutine thing that I remember fondly. 

In happier and much more professional news, I facilitated my first Community Helpers training in August. I was very nervous. Like, stay up all night the night before nervous. And we had some technical difficulties with setting up. But my coworker / work BFF Jeannie was there and she was a great support to me. She ran and got me a coffee and a banana bread because I hadn’t eaten and was so so stressed. And she encouraged me through the whole thing. It went really really well. I almost choked up at the end while thanking the participants for coming and explaining how it was my first training and they were such a great group to do it with. 

The squad was all super broke so we turned to free activities. It was very wholesome. We spent many afternoons and evenings reading in Prince’s Island Park with snacks. We went to Shakespeare in the park. We went hiking. 

A lot of my friends moved away in August. Such is life when your friends are all academics or have bright futures that are not confined to the Calgary city limits. Sydney moved to Victoria to start her PhD and we had a nice day at Elbow Falls eating berries and then having dinner with my family. Adam and Kendal both moved to Ottawa to start a fancy new government job and an MSW degree, respectively. I am really really proud of all of my friends but I miss them, too. Calgary is not the same without these people. 

On the flip side – a new roommate moved in! Maddie left to move to Red Deer to be with Joel and so our new roommate was a French exchange student named Aurore. She arrived and was shocked to see that none of the advertised furniture was in her room except for one limp mattress. Karla and I hadn’t even known she was coming because my landlord sucks, but we helped her get her things together and then ordered her some Skip the Dishes. She was exhausted. And sweet. And was starting a block week MBA class the next day in her second language. I felt for her. 

September 

In September, the inklings of me moving into a different role at the university were planted. My boss called me in to her office one afternoon and shut the door. I was terrified but she said to me, “you’re not in trouble. Actually, just the opposite.” She brought up the recent vacancies in the job I now hold (lol: spoilers) and said, “Just think about it. I just want you to know that there would be no hard feelings if you chose to apply for the role.” I was flattered but also caught off guard. I did not think I was qualified for the job. I had virtually no client experience in either of my practicums. I wasn’t even registered with the ACSW at this point. And I loved my old job and my health promotion coworkers so so much. But also… I was on a twelve month contract. And the person away on leave was definitely coming back. I was “strongly encouraged” to get registered with the college. 

It was honestly such a mess. They gently nudged me towards applying for the role, I was torn. Then they told me it probably wouldn’t work because I wasn’t yet registered with the ACSW, and even if I did register would still only be provisional. I felt an odd sense of relief at that, and had totally psyched myself out of being able to do the job at that point. At the last minute, I was told “just submit an application to keep our options open.” I did so. I got an interview. I interviewed (and it was SO fucking stressful…. Interviewing with people you already work with is 10x worse than interviewing with strangers. I tell ya.). And… I got the job!!! Not only did I get the job, I got a full-time, permanent contract (there were two positions, one full-time and one on a longer contract. I was told from the beginning I would just be applying for the longer contract but I ended up getting the FULL TIME ONE.) It was a HUGE boost to my confidence and again, one of the happiest days of the year.  

September was also just absolutely insane for work. So many orientation presentations, students reaching out wanting to get involved, starting all of the volunteer programs, planning. I was so, so, so SO FREAKING TIRED. But we did lots of fun things. Like we took Aurore and her friend Cecile to Banff, had them try Caesers and Beaver Tails and all kinds of Canadian things. 

October 

On my last day in my old role, my coworkers decorated my desk with a homemade banner and got me desserts. We went to McDonald’s for a feast and sat in the Hub and made jokes. It felt really special and I was really touched. 

On October 7, I started my new-but-also-kind-of-the-same job. I was very nervous and there was a lot to learn right from the get go. And it was so… strange. I HAD MY OWN OFFICE. WITH MY NAME ON THE DOOR AND EVERYTHING. The imposter syndrome hit me like a tsunami. I was extremely stressed, extremely overwhelmed. But my teammates and my boss are great. They understand I’m new not just to the role but to the field. They were (and are) so kind and patient with me and answer all of my questions. 

For Thanksgiving, we went to Banff. We had beers and did a little bowling at High Rollers and then went to the Rimrock for dinner. It was very nice. A few weeks later, I hosted my own friendsgiving dinner and roasted a turkey! And spent all day decorating my parents’ house and the table to look fancy. Everything turned out really really well. I was super stoked. Note to self: throw more dinner parties. 

November: 

What I recall from November is just… stress. The case management / social worker life came at me real hard, real fast. I had to call CFS for the first time. My client did not want me to. It was hard. I did not cope well. My coping strategy was to fuck off to Lake Louise (?) for a weekend in a hostel and drink two bottles of wine with some random sorority girls from Chicago. And tears.

The cooking phase was in full swing at this point. Eggs benedict, soft pretzels, curry, French onion soup, gnocchi, prosciutto apple blue cheese chicken, apple and chai galettes.

The third week of November was also when I decided to start training for the half marathon. I found a plan online and set out to follow it and honestly, it’s been great. I usually don’t stick to exercise routines for longer than a month because I tend to go too hard, too fast and I overdo it and I let one hungover day derail me. But this plan wasn’t focused on distance but rather time spent running. So rather than, “I have to run 5km” today it’s, “I have to run for 45 minutes today.” I thought I’d hate that but I actually really like it. It encourages me to go a little slower and just run out the clock, at whatever pace. And the speed is building gradually, and naturally.

December: 

Aaaand December!

December has been so much marathon training. Today, I am entering my seventh week of consistent running and exercise. That is a badass accomplishment for me. I am very pleased. I even managed to do my runs in Saskatoon on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

Aurore left back to Paris. She had a birthday party at the house with all of her international friends and we went for sushi and looked at Christmas lights in the rich people neighborhoods before she returned home. She ended up being so wonderful. I will miss her.

I went to Radium for a weekend with Kennedy, Matt, Amanda, and their friend Katie. The takeaways from this experience are: I am excited to get to spend more time with Kennedy and Amanda and to become better friends with them, I think I like smoking weed now, and skiing is the best.

2020: 

To be completely honest, my life is pretty good. I sometimes wish I had somebody to share it with, and that’s something I hope to be a little better about in 2020 is putting myself out there in more of a meaningful way. 

I also am super excited to continue down this path with my career and to develop personally and professionally as a social worker. There is truly so much to learn and I’m really motivated and excited right now to do well at this which is an awesome feeling. I do need to work on not taking my work home with me so much, about separating the social work life from the personal life. Setting boundaries and all that good stuff. 

I’m hopefully going to run my first half marathon in 2020. May 31. The countdown is on. Excited to cross that item off the bucket list and experience the rush of crossing the finish line! That endorphin high is going to be insane. 

And I want to keep developing my cooking skills. Though they may be small, they are mighty. I want to try and learn how to make fresh pasta dough. LOL. Simple goals. 

Anyways... thank you 2019 for all you have brought me and taught me. I am grateful for the life I get to the live and the experiences I get to have. And I’m super stoked to see where 2020 takes me. 

<3 

#megbox #personal #year in review #2019

[not-close-to-straight]

Transposed (Spideypool)(Musician AU)

“Mr. Deadpool, sir, there is a reporter here from...” The secretary looked down at her clipboard. “Oh um, a reporter from Cadentia Magazine is here to interview you about your most recent album?” 

“That is a terrible name for what is undoubtedly a terrible magazine.” A figure stirred in the corner of the room, reaching for a bottle with one hand, a cigarette with the other. “Tell her no.” 

“Actually, you agreed to this interview almost two months ago, and you’ve cancelled everything else since then and I think it would be a really good idea if you would--” 

“Baby girl.” A low laugh, rusty and hoarse. “I don’t pay you to think.”  

“According to my research, you don’t pay her at all, Mr. Deadpool.” A new voice spoke up, a gentle hand at the assistants shoulder as a young man pushed his way through. “It seems that before you fired your last manager-- uh, Piotr Rasputin? Wow really, Rasputin? Sounds like a comic book character-- anyway, right before you fired him, he realized you were on one hell of a downward spiral and redirected a chunk of your money into a trust that is soley responsible for making sure your employees get paid.” 

The man paused, pushing thick, black rimmed glasses up his nose and raising an eyebrow. “Care to comment? Or are you just going to keep drinking?” 

“Oh my.” the assistant whispered and he patted her back gently. 

“Ms.-- Ms. Baccarin?” he smiled. “I can take it from here, thank you.” 

“Good luck.” she shrugged and ducked out the door, leaving the musician and the reporter in the room in silence. 

“For the record.” Deadpool spoke from the corner again. “My manager quit before I had a chance to fire him. And nobody called him Piotr Rasputin, did you see the guy? He was massive. We called him Colossus. Had buns of steel that guy, real gym rat.” 

“That’s not even mildly interesting, I don’t care about any of that.” the reporter flipped on a few more lights and settled into a comfortable chair, clicking his pen a few times while he flipped through his notebook. “Alright then. I’m here to talk to you about your new album? How do you feel about it being so terribly received.” 

“Terribly received?!” Deadpool flinched away from the light-- hello, hangover from a three day drinking binge-- but still glared at the reporter. “Who the hell are you?!” 

“Peter Parker.” A quick flash of a press badge. “Cadentia Magazine.” 

“Terrible name for a terrible magazine.” Deadpool stumbled to his feet and made his clumsy way over to the bar in his suite. “What do you want?”

“Its not a terrible name, thank you, its Latin. The fall, in English a cadence is a sequence of notes or chords--”

“I’m a musician.” Deadpool interrupted. “You’re going to try and give me a lesson on what a cadence is?” 

“You asked.” Peter raised his eyebrows and waited until the surly man grumbled in agreement. “Now. Your latest album-- you didn’t even title it. Up until now, all of your albums have had a theme that reflect your rather colorful--” a meaningful glance towards the posters covering the walls-- “stage persona. Scarred, Broken, Un-Alive. All dark titles, dark themes, everything someone would expect from a rocker, and yet this last one--” 

“You aren’t the littlest bit star struck by me?” he interrupted again and Peter sighed as if personally offended. “Not one reporter has ever been able to make it through a sentence in front of me without stammering but you almost seem like you don’t like me.” 

“That’s because I don’t like you.” Peter sat back further in the chair, tapping his pen on his notepad absentmindedly. “Now then, your latest album is untitled. I don’t even mean that you called it Untitled, I mean, you literally left it untitled. Thirteen songs, all disjointed, none with your usual over reaching theme--”

“If you don’t like me, why are you and some fancy magazine named after some Latin bullshit over here trying to talk to me?” Deadpool finally came closer, throwing himself down across the couch opposite Peter and glaring at him. “Because I gotta say, I don’t get up before 2 pm for anyone, especially not mouthy little reporters with too much hair who haven’t stopped insulting me since the minute they walked uninvited through the door. “

“You haven’t finished an interview in years.” Peter leaned forward, dark eyes narrowing. “I’ve watched all the tapes. You go out of your way to make the reporter uncomfortable if they are men, flirt with the women until they are either trying to rip your clothes off or trying to run away and if neither of those tactics work, you start drinking and getting obnoxious until they cut the interview short so you don’t have to.”

“...all true things.” Deadpool shrugged. “So what, you thought you’d come in aggressive and catch me off my guard?” 

“Exactly.” 

“Well it’s working.” The singer blew out a deep breath and put the bottle down. “Alright. Cadentia Magazine. I know the name. Usually follows more traditional music, amiright?” 

“Usually.” Peter allowed, relaxing a little now that there wasn’t so much animosity coming from the big man. “But the actual music behind your particular brand of rock has some of the most complex and beautiful harmonies that modern music has seen in decades, and when you aren’t falling drunk off stage, there is something clearly hypnotic about the way you work, which is why we wanted to interview you.” 

“Falling drunk off stage.” Deadpool winced. “Saw my Moscow performance, did you?” 

“Cleveland, actually.” Peter corrected. “And then again in Portland. Made it to your Austin concert and--” 

“Yep. Let’s not talk about that one, thanks.” 

“Okay, let’s not talk about it then.” Peter motioned to Deadpool’s face.“Let’s talk about your stage persona. Deadpool. Obviously that’s not your real name, but you’ve done such a good job obliterating any trace of your civilian side, that all we know is Deadpool the musician.” 

“Yeah, I have done a good job of that, haven’t I?” 

“Even right now.” Peter frowned at him, and Deadpool sort of hated it. “You’re wearing all that make up to make yourself look scarred like you do on stage. Do you sleep with all that crap on? I understand the need to keep up that scarred persona when your performing-- you’ve basically made your fortune by performing as a man who carries all his sins on the outside of his body-”

“Quoting Sins.” Deadpool grunted. “Nice.” 

“It’s my favorite song from your Scarred album.” Peter admitted. “I’ve listened to it more times than I can count. And when you’re on stage, all the scars look cool but this close its a little more jarring. Have you been performing so long that you don’t know who you are when the make up comes off?”

“Tell me something first.” Now it was Deadpool’s turn to lean in, narrowing his eyes at the reporter. “When you were listening to Sins, was it on a tape deck? A CD? Or are those words that you’ve only read in history books?” 

“Are you asking how old I am?” Peter asked blankly and the singer nodded. “Alright, I listened to it on a CD until it got too scratched to play anymore, and then I bought an iPod and downloaded it there.” 

“Oh good, you’re over eighteen at least.” 

“By a half dozen years, thanks. Now, I answered your question, you answer mine. Why are you wearing make up right now?” 

“Do you want to know a secret, Peter Parker from Cadentia Magazine?” Deadpool pressed his hand to his cheek and swiped down, turning so Peter could see there wasn’t anything on his palm. 

“It’s not make up.” A grim smile. “All the scars are my own.” 

“Holy--” Peter’s mouth dropped, and the pen fell from his hand, bouncing unnoticed off the floor as he stared. “Its you?” 

“It’s me.” 

“But-- how--why--um-- I can’t---” 

“Tell you what.” The singer pointed towards the door. “You leave and let me sleep off the rest of this hangover, and I’ll play nice at our next interview.”

“Um--” too stunned by the revelation that the Scarred singer was in fact scarred, Peter made it halfway to the door before remembering to ask, “Our next interview?” 

“Made an appointment with the girl.” 

***********************

***********************

“So, the make up isn’t the scars.” Peter said softly, watching Deadpool put on a layer of foundation. “The make up is the only time you aren’t scarred, when you go out and run errands and all that, when the paparazzi catch you unawares. You wear make up to cover your scars, and then on stage--” 

“On stage is the only time I can be myself and the screams from people are adoration and not horror.” Deadpool said bluntly, applying fake lashes to his eyes and reaching for a set of eyebrows. “People think I spend at least an hour in the make up chair before performing, but really I spend at least an hour in the make up chair before I go out to get groceries.” 

“Why don’t you have someone get groceries for you?” Peter couldn’t look away from the transformation taking place in front of him, Deadpool looking more and more normal with every layer that went on his face-- highlighting cheekbones and a strong jaw, his eyes a gorgeous hazel when you weren’t distracted by the scars and marks on his face. 

“Because it forces me to function.” A layer of sunscreen and then a ball cap went over Deadpool’s bare scalp. “I’m a walking disaster, Pete. Drink till I sleep, sleep until lunch time, binge eat some days, binge watch Netflix other days. Got people to do everything for me except wipe my ass and buy my food. Gotta get dressed and deal with people if I want food, so that’s what I make myself do.” 

“Right.” Peter kept staring at him. “Mr. Deadpool, have you always been scarred?” 

“Long enough to not remember what it was like to be pretty.” The rockstar stepped away from the mirror. “Even though, I’ve been tailoring my look to resemble Ryan Reynolds. He’s a hunk, huh? I’d like to look like him on a good day.” 

“There are literally millions of fans who think you’re gorgeous with the scars on.” Peter countered, then corrected, “Uh, I mean, without your make up on. You’re a sex symbol regardless, the talent speaks through the--”

“--the mess?” Deadpool finished. “Well thank god for that.” A side glance at the reporter. “You think I’m gorgeous, Pete?” 

“If I could get close enough to not choke on the vodka fumes, I might have an opinion.” Peter retorted. 

“Just for that remark, I’m cutting this interview short.” Deadpool slid his arms into a leather jacket. “You’ll have to come back if you want to ask me any more questions. Damn shame, that.” 

Peter’s mouth fell open when the singer walked right past him and out the door, apparently on his way to get groceries, leaving him there in the hotel room alone. 

Which was good, in a way, because if Peter hadn’t come up with some snappy comment about the vodka fumes, he might have blurted out something completely embarrassing about how highschool-age-him had had a picture of Deadpool on his ceiling and had spent many a night staring up at it and....thinking.... 

No, no way the disaster of a rock star needed to know that. It was bad enough Peter had to come back for another interview to at least get started on finishing his article about the once-great Deadpool. No way the man needed to know that Peter still went home and...thought... about him. 

Nope.

********************

********************

“Look, I’ve got a list of questions I need to ask you for my article.” Peter chewed at the end of his pen, staring down at his note pad so he wouldn’t stare at a barely dressed Deadpool who was currently moving through different yoga poses in the living room the hotel suite. “Can I just run through them all real quick?” 

“Go for it.” 

“Alright.” Peter cleared his throat. “First, and this isn’t on my list, but I want to know anyway. Um, yoga? Really?” 

“It centers me.” Deadpool said, breathing out and transitioning to another pose. “And its the most exercise I can handle after a day of drinking. And its pretty fucking funny how hard you are trying not to look at me right now, so I think I’ll keep going.” 

“Wonderful.” Peter said dryly. “Well as fun as this is, we’ve had like four interviews together and you’ve managed to some what answer only four questions before throwing me out and I was only planning on spending two hours on this article and now its been almost two weeks. Help me out here, I’m on a deadline and need a paycheck.” 

“Alright then.” In an entirely drool worthy move, the singer pushed himself into a handstand, back and shoulder muscles straining and flexing, the scars doing absolutely nothing to detract from how much skin he was showing. “Quit gaping at me and ask your questions.” 

“Why do you live in a hotel suite instead of a house?” 

“I don’t like to clean up after myself.” 

“But you cook for yourself?”

“Hotel food is ridiculously over priced.” 

“Fair enough. What got you into music in the first place?” 

“Grew up poor but my neighborhood school had a music program. Apparently I was a natural on any instrument I picked up, and it distracted from how shitty life was.”

“Do you donate any music to inner city music programs?” 

“Pretty sure Colossus set something like that up a few years ago, yeah. And if he didn’t, I’ll make sure it happens. Kids need music, soothes the demons.” 

“That’s a line from Sins, ‘I need music to soothe my demons.” Has music helped balance you out? Do you use it as a form of therapy like so many other musicians do?” 

“Um...” he hesitated. “I wouldn’t say it balances me out. Sometimes singing just makes it all hurt more, like poking at a wound like won’t heal.” 

“Why do you sing then?” Peter looked up with a frown. “If it doesn’t make you feel better--” 

“Because even if it hurts, its gotta be better than keeping it all inside, right?” 

“Um... right. So. No pets?” 

“Nope.” 

“No significant other?” 

“Nope. I’ve learned not to attempt relationships because people only want me because I’m famous, and one night stands get old after a while, so I’d say no. No significant other. Not even close.”

“Favorite colors?” 

“Black and red. Do you have real questions? These are all stupid.” 

“A real question. Sure. Did you name your first album Scarred because of your--” Peter motioned to Deadpool’s body. “Or did all this happen after that?” 

“Because of my scars.” 

“Alright. And um, Broken and Un-Alive? What was the reason behind those names?” 

“I’ll give you one guess.” 

“Right.” Peter took his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes. “Let’s try for more than a few syllables of an answer, huh? Um, it’s been said that Scarred and Broken especially, and Un-Alive to some extent, play like one long album, as if you wrote one entire song and then someone broke it up into chapters. Scarred is smoother, more lyrical, and you got some reviews on Broken that said it sounded like glass shattering, that you were disjointed and didn’t know where you were going with the project.” 

“Is there a question in there?”

“I’m getting to it.” He said crossly, and Deadpool smiled a little. “I disagree with those reviews, I think Broken reads more honest than Scarred does. As if Scarred is the beginning of the story, Broken is the Angst and Un-Alive--”

“Is when the hero loses to the bad guys.” Deadpool finished. “You’re right. Scarred was more radio friendly because I hadn’t dug deep yet. I was just... just sort of ranting. Broken was more honest because I was letting myself say what I really wanted to say, and Un-Alive-- Un-Alive is the day I realized the money wouldn’t change anything after all.” 

“What were you trying to change?” 

“Everything.”

*****************

(Slight TW, brief mentions of depression, attempted suicide) 

*****************

Peter flipped through pages and pages and pages of notes as he sat on the couch-- ten interviews now ranging from that first catastrophic one that had only been twenty minutes long, ranging to last weeks, that had taken up almost an entire day, and each time Deadpool opened up a little more to him, talking about his struggles with depression, with using alcohol to cope. 

He talked about the accident that had left him so physically ruined and the woman he had lost in the aftermath. 

He laughed over how he had made money as a teenager singing covers of sappy love songs in restaurants with nothing more than his guitar and a fedora because apparently everyone was a sucker for a guy with a guitar and a fedora.

“Baby I Need Your Lovin’. Johnny Rivers.” he mentioned over sandwiches one day. “Slow it down and sing it against an acoustic guitar and its guaranteed to make someone fall in love. Also guaranteed to make someone fall into bed with me. If I ever had to beg someone to come back? That’s the song I’d use. Never fails.” 

He mumbled around a cigarette about how he had sat at his kitchen table and written every lyric to Sins with blood still on his hands from a bar fight. 

A half smile, telling Peter about how he secretly loved country music, specifically Faith Hill, may she live forever, and Miranda Lambert who both turned him on immensely and scared him to death because he didn’t think she was joking when she sang all those songs about teaching bad men a lesson. 

He closed his eyes and reminisced about his stint in the hospital shortly after Broken had gone platinum, the drunk driving accident that had left him nearly dead. 

One particularly rough session where the singer had played Un-Alive, the album he had written while they were still putting him together from the accident, and sat and talked about the lowest moment of his life, the time when he had tried to end it all and but hadn’t been brave enough to try. Peter hadn’t taken notes that time, had only sat and listened with tears in his eyes as the singer he had idolized growing up broke down in front of him. 

“Used to be I picked up that guitar, sat down at the piano, grabbed a harmonica, whatever, and it brought me peace.” Deadpool said thoughtfully, regretfully, staring at the glass of scotch he hadn’t even taken a drink of yet. “But then it sorta consumed me. I had to wear make up and be normal out on the streets and on the stage I could be myself and scream about all my pain and it--it--”

“You started hating who you were without the music?” Peter suggested softly. “And that’s why this last album is awful. Because you don’t know how to not be Deadpool.” 

“And its not Deadpool that writes the music.” The man slid off the couch and onto the floor, closing his eyes. “Interviews- they wanted to talk about the why behind the music, what the words meant, how I made the notes flow, why the melodies are so haunting but Deadpool doesn’t know any of that. Deadpool stands on stage and sings to adoring fans and then drinks himself into a stupor until the next time around.” 

“So who writes the music?” Peter slid to the floor as well, nearly two months of meeting with the rock star giving a sense of comfortable to the movement, to their proximity. “Who writes the melodies? Who made gave Deadpool an outlet for all his pain?” 

Silence for a long time, then, “Wade.” 

“...Wade.” 

“Wade Wilson writes the music.” Deadpool Wade opened his eyes and stared at Peter. “But its been so long since I was Wade, sometimes I don’t think I know how to do it anymore. Sometimes it feels like I put all of myself into the music and once the music is gone, there’s nothing left of me to exist anymore. I’m not anyone without my music. I disappeared from the music scene and no one wondered where I went. I came back with another album and because it wasn’t as good as my first ones, no one cared. Wade ceased to exist a long time ago, and Deadpool is on his way out too. When the spotlight goes out, I go out. Feels like I can’t breathe unless I’m on the stage, holding a microphone, holding my guitar. Can’t breathe without it because I don’t know who I am without it.” 

“You didn’t name your last album--”

“Because I can barely name myself most days, how am I supposed to name music, too?” 

*******************

*******************

“You’ve had hundreds of interviews.” Peter hadn’t even brought his notebook this time, sitting cross legged on the bed and eating Chinese food take-out while Wade flipped through a magazine on the other side. “Have you ever told anyone else that you don’t wear make up on stage?”

“Nope.”

“So why me?”

“You were brutally honest with me, figured I could be brutally honest with you.” 

“I was rude to you.” 

“Rude as shit, but I deserved it.” 

“Yeah, you did.” 

“Were you one of my groupies, once upon a time?” 

“If I would have been old enough to go to your Scarred tour? Yeah, I would’ve groupied for you.” 

“Been a long time since someone threw their panties at me.”

“I didn’t say I’d do that, but I probably would have swooned if you had made eye contact with me in the crowd.” 

“Is this a date?” 

“No, this is an interview.” 

“You aren’t taking notes. And you’re sitting on my bed eating Chinese take out. Sort of a date.”

“Definitely not a date.”

“You wanna go on a date sometime?” 

“Is Deadpool asking me out?” 

“...no. Um, no. No, I’d like to go on a date with you as Wade, not as Deadpool, not as a rock star. Just two guys getting pizza or something.” 

“Why?” 

“Because you’re the first person to talk to me in years like I’m human. Like I’m not crazy. Like I’m a real person. Most people either discount what I say because they can’t take someone like me seriously, or they hang on my every word like some sort of hero worship and you don’t do either or those things.” 

“So because I was rude to you, you want to buy me pizza?” 

“I want to buy you pizza because you’re gorgeous, Peter Parker from Cadentia Magazine. Plus, you haven’t stopped looking at my arms, and I haven’t stopped staring at your ass so we should do something about it.” 

“Yeah, alright.” 

“...really?” 

“I like pineapple on my pizza.”

“I... alright, well I’m not going to kiss you until you brush your teeth, but other than that, we’re good to go.” 

******************

******************

A pizza date lasted all of ten minutes before it had been pushed aside and Wade was all over Peter, pushing him into the bed and tearing at his clothes and Peter gave just as good as he got, scraping his nails carefully but eagerly down the rough skin and ridged scars, moaning into each messy kiss, wiggling out of his jeans and spreading his legs when Wade lay heavy against him. 

It was a little graceless, sure, a little rushed, absolutely, but the connection was real-- the heat in Wade’s eyes real, the acceptance in Peter’s touch impossibly real and when they were coming together, Wade fit tight inside Peter’s lean body, Peter holding Wade as tight as he could-- 

--it was real enough to bring Wade to tears and he pulled away before Peter saw it, stumbling to the bar and tearing the top off a bottle to start drinking. 

“Most guys would take that as a critique.” Peter was panting, still sprawled on the bed, still breathing hard. “I’ve never had a partner bolt from bed for a beer before we’d even had a chance to kiss over it all.” 

“Yeah, well you’ve never fucked a rock star before, have you?” the words were cold and a little cruel, and Peter pulled the blankets up over himself uncertainly. 

“Um, Wade--” 

“Is that enough for your interview?” Wade wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and disappeared into the bathroom for a towel to wrap around his waist. “You’re a stubborn shit, I’ll give ya that. Most would have given up after the first interview but you came back for like three months. Got all the aspects of me-- my drinking, the truth of my scars, why I stopped writing, and now you know how I am in bed. Should be enough for your article, right?” 

“Wade--?”

“I’m going to take a shower. The door man will let you out.” 

***************

***************

Peter’s article about Deadpool headlined the Cadentia Magazine six months later, blew up on line and brought him four different job offers from much bigger magazines. 

Six pages worth of writing, intimate and beautiful, speaking about the way the singer had donated money to inner city schools, how he had a trust set up to pay his employees so they would never miss a paycheck even if he never sold another album again. 

Exquisite paragraphs about how Deadpool felt most like himself on stage, how music had both freed and then somehow enslaved him, and how musicians in general offer so much of themselves, even their very breath in exchange for our souls to feel a little lighter when we listen to the lyrics. 

Quotes from Deadpool about how music had changed his life, quotes from his old managers and current employees about how Deadpool was so heartbreakingly honest in his music, that the drinking and partying was just a piece of him, and not the one that the world should focus on. 

A line that said, “Deadpool has come under fire for refusing to name his latest album, but how can a man name an album, when his own name has been erased and all anyone knows is the music? How can you give a song a name, when its the songs themselves that made his true name obsolete? When breathing life into this music, has made the man behind it all cease to exist?” 

There wasn’t a single mention of the personal things they had talked about-- about writing Sins with busted knuckles, about how Forever had been written for Vanessa, how Un-Alive had been a desperate cry for help at the lowest point of his life. 

Not even a breath of a hint of mention of that one time in bed together, not the way Wade had held Peter so carefully, not the way Peter had thought their souls had sparked together for just a minute, not the way Wade had done such a terrible job of hiding his tears, the way he was floored by a connection he hadn’t let himself have with anyone in years.

There wasn’t a mention of the following months, where Peter had stared at his phone with his thumb over Wade’s number and talked himself out of calling it, how he had cried himself to sleep because somewhere in between calling Wade out for being a drunk has been rock star and sharing Chinese food on the bed, Peter had gone and fallen in love with the singer, and then had his heart broken like a teenager and he hated himself for it. 

No where in the article did Peter say that Wade’s scars were real, and no where did he ever say Wade’s name. 

Those were secrets he would keep for himself. 

*******************

*******************

Wade read the article front to back, and then back again, scouring the words for any animosity or anything mocking or condescending or anything like the articles usually written about him. 

Not once had Peter’s words turned bitter, not once had he spoke about how weak Wade was, how lost. 

No, Peter had written an article about a musician giving everything he had to his craft, about a singer who had never been anything but honest in his songs, about a rock star who was incredible whether he was on stage or not. 

Peter had written the article as if Wade was the man everyone thought he was-- beautiful and whole and happy. 

And it didn’t feel like reading lies, because with Peter, Wade had felt like all of those things. 

Pushing Peter away had been fear. Fear of losing him now that the article was written, fear of rejection once Peter realized that he really was scarred and he really was broken and that the words he sang were true, and not just lyrics to make money. Wade was afraid that the novelty would wear off and Peter would be off chasing another rock star for another article. He was afraid that Peter would ask him to wear make up in public to hide the scars, and even though Peter hadn’t flinched away when they were in bed-- it was just a matter of time, right? 

But maybe not. Because the article read like someone who had taken a good long look at Deadpool-- at Wade-- and liked what they saw regardless.

And that gave Wade hope.

******************

******************

“Mr. Parker?” The secretary poked her head into Peter’s cubicle. “This is a little odd, but you have a visitor downstairs?” 

“A visitor?” Peter raised his eyebrows. “I don’t get visitors, who is it?” 

“He said his name is Wade?” she offered and shrugged. “He called up from the ground floor. Do you want me to tell him you aren’t available?” 

“Uh no.” Peter shoved his chair out and grabbed his jacket. “No, I’ll see him. Thank you.” 

Downstairs in the lobby, a crowd was gathering, several people with their phones out recording as a man sat on the bench wearing a fedora and holding an old guitar, singing quietly. 

Peter slowed his near run to a walk as he approached, and when he got close enough he could hear the song--

Although you're never near Your voice I often hear Another day, 'nother night I long to hold you tight 'Cause I'm so lonely

Wade looked up in time to catch Peter’s eye and offered a hesitant smile before he kept singing,

Some say it's a sign of weakness For a man to beg Then weak I'd rather be If it means having you to keep, 'Cause lately I've been losing sleep

Peter smiled back, cautiously, hopefully, and Wade’s smile grew, and the song continued slow and sweet--

Baby, I need your lovin' Got to have all your lovin' Baby I need your lovin' Got to have all you lovin'

********************

A Year Later

*********************

“Mr. Wilson.” The interviewer paused to give Wade and Peter a sunny smile. “So. In the last six months you’ve not only released a brand new album featuring just you and your guitar, but you’ve also given fans your real name, which none of your fans never knew before now, and the story behind your scars, which I think I can say without exaggerating, broke all of our hearts.”

Wade nodded politely and she continued, “And here you are with your boyfriend--”

“Fiancee.” Wade held up their hands and Peter blushed. “As of yesterday, actually.” 

“Fiancee.” she corrected herself. “Congratulations! Wonderful news. You have become something of an icon now, between your very public relationship with Mr. Parker here, your honesty about your struggles with depression and suicide, and now your complete removal from the music you used to sing, to become this... this softer man that we all love so much now. Can you tell me, what started this change?” 

“Peter did.” Wade said without hesitation, and Peter snuggled a little closer to his side. “He refused to let me do all my usual bullshit when he tried to interview me, and it was intriguing so I kept inviting him back. Eventually we were just talking about everything. I was able to be honest and real with him, and then when the interviews were all over-” a fond look down at his soon-to-be-husband. “-- I discovered that in between him telling me I stank of vodka, and him writing that article, I-- I healed a little bit. A lot, actually. I’d healed and hadn’t even known it was happening.” 

“So you went after him.” She prompted. “Didn’t you?” 

“I showed up at his work and played and sang to him until he agreed to go out on a date with me.” Wade confirmed. “Three hours. He made me sing for three hours before he said yes.”

“It was payback.” Peter grinned at him. “Because one time I had an interview scheduled and he needed a shower and passed out in the tub for three hours while I waited outside. Rude.” 

“God, so rude of me.” Wade laughed. “Anyway. Yeah. Somehow I fell in love and even more incredible, he fell in love with me, so here we are.” 

“And the title of your new album.” She held up the newest CD. “Transposed?” 

“My album titles have always reflected how I felt at the time of writing it.” Wade squeezed at Peter’s hand. “Broken, Scarred-- those are all self explanatory. But Transposed-- its how I am now. I’m still me. But I sound different and I feel different and things are just different. Same song, but in a different key.” 

“A better key.” Peter added, reaching up to draw his fingers lightly over the scars on Wade’s chin. “Right?” 

“Right, baby boy. A better key.” 

***************************

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE FIC!

#ncts fics #spideypool #musician au #peter parker #wade wilson

[djinmer4]

Rasputin’s Model 1/?(Lovecraft!AU)

“Storm!  Storm!  Ororo!”  Storm wakes with a gasp.  From here she can hear the winds lashing against the mansion, and then the patter of rain and hail hitting the windows.  Quickly she gets her power under control, calming the tempest outside.

Hank stops shaking her, leaning back and giving her a few minutes to calm down.  “The usual nightmare?” he asks sympathetically.

“Pretty much.  Underground, in the dark, with no way out.  Except it was worse this time.  This time someone was watching.  Watching me panic and laughing at my helplessness.”  Ororo wiped the sweat from her forehead, then looked down at the drenched bed.  “Ugh, I need to bathe.  This is horrible.”

“I’ll start stripping the sheets.”  Offered the giant blue mutant.

She smiled at her lover.  “Thanks.  Sorry for waking you up.”

“Hey, this is nothing compared to what Jean puts Scott through.”

Piotr can’t stop thinking about the last mission.  No one had expected a cake walk, but to lose two people and not even fight back!  Not that he blamed Katya, she made the right decision to run.  They were outclassed and he suspected even with the rest of the X-Men they wouldn’t have made a dent in that creature’s skin.

He grabbed some of his pink and white paint.  He needed to do something to get the mission out of his head.  The resulting painting probably wouldn’t be any good, but he could burn it in the end.  He settled in front of the canvas, then changed his mind and grabbed the black instead.  He’d try something different today, start with black for a background then layer the subject on top with heavy, opaque oils.  That felt more appropriate.

Piotr painted for hours, not really paying attention to the overall image.  Rather, he focused on the details, on getting everything just the right shade and that the black didn’t bleed through.  He wasn’t really aware what was forming until Katya came to get him for supper.

“Hey, Piotr!  I know you’re in a groove, but it’s time to eat!  I know we’re all upset, but skipping meals isn’t going to make anything better.  You already skipped lunch- Oh my God!”  Piotr turned to the younger girl, confused at the sudden horror in her voice.  “Why did you paint that!?!”

The Russian looked at the canvas, then reeled back in shock.  There, standing out from the deep black, was a picture of Morph’s head, impaled through the neck on a twisted grey spike.  The eyes were open and pleading while blood ran from the mouth and nose.  “I didn’t, I didn’t mean to-  I wasn’t thinking-”

The American came up and patted him lightly on the arm.  “It’s okay.  I understand you needed to get this out of your system.  But we need to burn this before anyone else sees.”

“Da.”

Husk stared at the black spot on her hand.  She’d never had a mole there before.  Concerned that it might be a remnant of her last transformation, she pulled her skin off again.

Nope, the mole was still there.  And did it just getting bigger?

Kitty double checked her room.  No reflective surfaces that could lead to the void.  No pictures out that could morph into hellish landscapes.  All doors closed and locked so nothing could get in without her noticing.  She even leaned down to check under her bed.  Nope, not even dust bunnies since she’d cleaned it out today.  

Despite those precautions, she still woke to the sound of chewing and screaming.  Opening her eyes she was back in that hellish landscape.  Same brimstone smell, same grass-like fur beneath her feet.  Today there were only two orbs in the sky, one yellow and one red.  As she watched, the red globed winked out and then back on, almost like it was winking at her.

“You X-Men are so amusing.”  She turned and saw the creature from the Schwartzwald sitting there.  She could see Morph’s headless body behind IT and heard Tabitha screaming.  The creature held a femur in both hands, and then with a quick twist broke it apart and began to suck on the marrow.  “I’ve been observing for a while, and still you don’t know what’s happening?”

“Why the he-” she stopped herself.  Best not to give the creature ideas.  “Why am I here again?”

IT had finished with the femur and pulled out what appeared to be Tabitha’s arm and started gnawing on it.  “Boredom.  I want some company while I eat.”

Kitty stared in horror.

“Oh, I’ll feed you too.”  A wave of a hand and a table setting appeared in front of her (white linen tablecloth, plush chair, fine bone china and all).  It almost would have been sweet, if there hadn’t been a couple of bloody hands on the plate.  She recoiled away.

“Humans,” IT intoned, bright patches moving back and forth.  “Always so picky.”  Another wave and the arms were replaced by a basket of apples.  “Is that better?”

The Jewish girl hesitated.  Stories of fairy fruit and Persephone danced in her head.  “If all you want is company, there’s no need to feed me.  I’ll be happy to talk to you.” Not.

“Suit yourself,” IT took another bite.  “But be aware, you won’t wake until you’ve eaten and drunk something.”

“What?”

“Oh, I won’t force you.  You won’t get any more hungry or thirsty than you are now.  And don’t worry about missing your alarm or anything.  No matter how long you wait, you’ll wake up the same time you usually do.  It doesn’t matter to me how stubborn you are.  I can wait forever.”

Kitty stared.  Stay here?  Forever?  She could feel her sanity unraveling already.  She looked at the apples, and the chalice full of what she was sure was blood.  “It’s only a dream.  It can’t really hurt you.”  Then she slugged the chalice, grabbed an apple and bit down-

Kitty woke to pounding on the door.  “Kitty, are you awake?”

“Just give me a second Storm.”  She quickly threw on a robe and grabbed her slippers before opening the door.  “What’s wrong?”

“Tildie woke up screaming.  Can you help?”

Kitty quickly made her way to the younger girls’ dormitory.  There she found the child in question curled up and crying.  “Tildie are you alright?”

“It hurts!  It hurts so bad!”  She curled in tighter.

“Will you let me see?  I can try to help.”  Tildie looked up with red eyes but slowly nodded and uncurled.  Kitty, grabbed the first aid kit and prayed it was just a bruise or something equally easy to treat.  Tildie still wasn’t comfortable with Dr. McCoy, and if she refused, they would have to make the trip to Dr. Reyes clinic.

As it turned out, it was just some simple scratches, easily treated with good humor, iodine, and bandages.  But Kitty froze when she realized the scratches spelled out words.

‘Only a dream, am I?’

Gambit couldn’t believe his eyes.  “Didn’t you say de only real way tah cook steak was well done, homme?”

“Yeah, well, I decided to give your way a shot.  Don’t look so surprised Gumbo.”

The Cajun watched as the Canadian grilled the steak over the hot coals, thankfully not using his claws.  When Logan took it off and started to eat, he noticed that while charred on the outside, the inside was still raw.  “Dere’s ah difference between medium-rare ahnd Pittsburgh Blue.”

The older man shrugged.  “Eh, they both bleed when you cut into them.”

#lovecraft #x-men

[lfthinkerwrites]

Regarding Jonathan Crane, pt. 2

Title: Regarding Jonathan Crane

Fandom: Batman

Rating: T

Warning: Mentioned Character Death

Summary: The different threads of Edward’s life, past and present, finally meet.

Previous Chapters: 1

AO3 Link

Saturday, February 3rd.

12:00 pm

Ra ra Rasputin, lover of the Russian Queen! There was a cat that really was gone! Ra ra Rasputin, Russia's greatest love machine! It was a shame how he carried on...

Ellen tapped her colored pencil to the beat of the song on her sketchbook as the bus continued down 24th Street. She'd gotten just about all the sketching she was going to get done on this trip, considering how empty the bus was. Apart from herself and the driver, the only other people on board were a mother and baby in the back of the bus, a group of high schoolers up front, and an annoyed looking middle aged man sitting in the seat across from her, glaring at the music coming from Ellen's earphones. Ellen ignored him, after she had added him to her collection of caricatures she drew of people she saw on the bus. She thought the Old Man would appreciate it. He usually did, as long as he wasn't getting caricatured.

Ellen felt the bus come to a stop and she looked up. This was her stop, 24th and Fleet street. She shoved her sketchbook into her bag, hopped out of her seat and darted out the side door as soon as it opened. She didn't usually come out by herself to this part of town, preferring to stick closer to home or going into the glitzier parts of downtown Gotham, but today was special. The Old Man said when she'd had dinner with him Wednesday night that she could come by his apartment to hang out with him today. Ellen quickened her pace as her father's apartment building came into view. She'd never admit it to the Old Man, but she did like getting to spend time with him, even if there were super villains involved. Actually, especially if there were super villains involved. Seeing him in action against Tut and that weirdo dressed as the Krampus had been pretty awesome.

She walked into the building and up the three flights of stairs that led to his apartment. From just outside, she could hear the sound of his TV. Ellen smiled. Gramma was working a double shift and wouldn't be home until late. Maybe she could convince the Old Man to let her stay long enough to watch Prime Minister's Question Time with him. She took off her headphones, raised her fist and rapped on the door. "Pops!" she called out. "I'm here!" There was no sound other than the TV. Ellen knocked again. "Wakey wakey Old Man!" Still no response. Ellen frowned. Was he in the bathroom or something? She turned the handle on the door and it opened. Well, he had to be home, didn't he? Why else would his door be unlocked? Ellen walked in, shutting the door behind her. The TV was on, and there was a box and newspapers on the coffee table, but there was no sign of the Old Man. "Pops?" Ellen called out again. "Where are you?" Ellen crossed the living room and went down the hallway to his bedroom. It was empty. There was no one in the apartment but her. Ellen began to pout as she walked back to the living room. "You better not have ditched me Old Man!" She muttered. She pulled her cell phone out of her bag and dialed her father's number. "This is Edward Nigma, Private Investigator. I'm either with a client or otherwise preoccupied. Please leave your name and number and I'll get back you."

Straight to voicemail? That was a little odd. The Old Man never had his phone off. "I'm here Pops," she said into the answering machine. "Where are you?" She hung up and flopped down on the couch. She looked at the scattered papers on the coffee table and began to go through them. Ellen soon realized that they were all articles about the Scarecrow. She shuddered a bit. She'd never liked that guy. He was a complete creep. She'd never heard the Old Man talk about him though. He'd mentioned a lot of the other Rogues when she'd asked, but he never talked about Scarecrow. Ellen figured he must have really hated him, but if that was the case, why did he have a whole box of stuff about him? And why was it out on his table? Wasn't the guy dead? Was the Old Man investigating something about him? Was that where he was?

Ellen leaned back and grabbed the remote. Dumb Old Man had probably gone to his office for something. He'd be back. And then she'd ask about all this stuff he had.

2:30 PM

Ellen had eaten through the meager snacks the Old Man had in his kitchen and was now getting very irritated. She pulled out her phone and dialed his number again. "This is Edward Nigma, Private Investigator. I'm either with a client or otherwise preoccupied. Please leave your name and number and I'll get back you."

"You're a real piece of work Old Man," Ellen hissed. "Can't you call me back at least?" She hung up and continued to surf through the television channels. Where the Hell was the Old Man? Whatever he was working on, she sulked, it better be worth making her wait.

4:30 PM

"This is Edward Nigma, Private Investigator. I'm either with a client or otherwise preoccupied. Please leave your name and number and I'll get back you."

Ellen swallowed thickly. "Pops, it's been over four hours. You're starting to scare me. Please call me back." Ellen hung up and took her face into her hands. It had been four and a half hours and no word from the Old Man. This wasn't like him. Something was wrong. Ellen looked down at her phone. She needed to do something, call someone. Who though? She couldn't call the cops, not after what happened with that Tut guy. Ellen's eyes flashed. Selina! She should call Selina! Maybe she knew where the Old Man was! She dialed the number he father had given her a month ago. Her heart beat faster each time she heard the phone ring. Please pick up, please please please...If Selina didn't pick up, Ellen didn't know what'd she'd do. Finally, she heard a familiar voice pick up. "Hello?"

Ellen nearly shrieked in relief. "Selina? It's Ellen. Remember me? Edward's kid?"

"Ellen? Hey kiddo, what's up?"

"Is the Old Man with you?"

"No, why?"

Ellen took a deep breath. "We were supposed to meet up at his apartment today, but he wasn't there, and he's not pickin' up his phone, and I know he's a jerk, but he wouldn't just ditch me like-"

"Whoa kiddo, slow down. What time were you supposed to meet up with him?"

"Noon," Ellen said. "I got here and his TV was on, but he wasn't here! I've tried calling him three times and it goes straight to voicemail."

"Wait. How did you get in?"

"His door was unlocked."

"Did it look like anything had happened? Is the place ransacked?"

"No," Ellen answered. "There's a bunch of papers on his coffee table, but other than that, everything looks normal."

"Are you there now?"

"Yeah."

There was a pause before Selina spoke in a hard tone, "Stay there. Lock the door and don't open it until I get there. I'm on my way."

Selina hung up before Ellen could respond. She quickly got up and put the deadbolt on the door, and sat back against the couch, a sinking feeling in her stomach. Something bad was going on. She knew it. Ellen sat in the apartment for about half an hour until she heard a knock on the door. "Kiddo?"

Ellen got up and looked out of the peephole. Sure enough, Selina was standing outside the door, in her catsuit. Ellen opened the door to let the older woman in. Selina walked into the apartment. "Hey Ellen," she said, giving her a look over. "You OK?"

Ellen nodded, rubbing her arm. "I'm getting kinda freaked. It's not like the Old Man to just up and disappear like this."

"I know," Selina said. "Believe me, I know." Her green eyes caught the papers on the coffee table. Ellen watched as Selina crossed the room and leaned over to pick one up. Ellen saw her eyes soften as she read the contents. "Spooky?" Ellen heard her whisper. "Oh Eddie..."

There was something someone hadn't told Ellen. "Selina, what's going on?" she asked. "Do you know where my Dad is?"

Selina put the paper down and shook her head. "No," she said. "Come on. We need to talk to Dr. Young."

Ellen frowned a bit. "Who's Dr. Young?"

Selina looked a bit surprised. "Your Dad hasn't told you about Dr. Young?" She shook her head. "Anyway. She's a friend of your Dad's. They meet up on Friday mornings to talk about cases they work on. She might know where your Dad is."

Ellen nodded, then followed Selina out the door. She took one last look at the apartment before shutting the door behind her. You'd better be OK, Old Man. You'd better be.

...While Charlotte has made a great deal of progress in maintaining boundaries with her family as we discussed in our last session, Andrew is becoming increasingly impatient during our sessions. I've had to remind him that while seeking counseling is an important first step, it is just that: a first step. He cannot expect all of his problems to be solved after only three sessions. I'm beginning to suspect however that he only sees our sessions as an opportunity to air his grievances against his former wife and his employer, instead of as an opportunity to do anything constructive. It's times like this that I wonder why I didn't decide to go into pure research, as my former undergraduate adviser suggested. Penelope chewed the top of her pen for a moment before she continued to write, Then I recall who my undergraduate adviser was, and realize it probably was for the best I didn't take his advice.

Penelope shut her journal, put down her pen and checked her watch. It was 6:00 pm. That was enough about work for now. She got up out of her lounge chair and walked towards her kitchen. Just a quick dinner, and then she'd pick up where she'd left off in her latest Psychology journal. A fairly typical Saturday evening for her. After she'd placed her soup container in the microwave, she pulled out her phone. Edward still had made no attempt to contact her after she'd called him yesterday, like she suspected he wouldn't. Penelope sighed. She'd really thought that after what happened with Victor Goodman, that they had made real progress. He freely shared information with her, he listened to her opinions, even if he was vocal about when he disagreed and he'd actually followed her advice and kept a lower profile in the month since Sharp assumed office. He was still combative and arrogant, but Penelope had begun to accept that as just a part of who he was. He was doing a better job of keeping those aspects of himself toned down in her presence at least. And yet, it felt like after yesterday, they were back at square one.

The microwave beeped and Penelope waited a moment before carefully removing her soup. She sat down at her kitchen table and idly stirred it. Alright, she conceded. It was first and foremost a work relationship. He'd never pried into her personal life and she never volunteered any information, so perhaps she couldn't expect him to talk about everything that was going on in his. Frankly, she wasn't sure she wanted to know some of it. Whatever was going on though was serious, potentially compromising. As she took a few sips, Penelope thought about what Joan had told her a few weeks ago and what she'd seen in Tetch's hideout last summer. Whatever personal issue Edward wasn't dealing with, it was connected to what he'd said. 'The person I needed the most....' Who had that been? Where were they? Penelope shook her head. If he wasn't willing to talk about it, she couldn't force him. All she could do was wait until he trusted her enough to open up about it. If he ever did.

A frantic knocking at her door almost made Penelope jump out of her seat. "Doc! Are you there?"

Penelope's eyebrows raised. That was Selina Kyle. What was she doing here? The last time she's been here had been-oh no. Not again. She should have pushed Edward harder, she should have gone by his home, she should have called Joan-Penelope rushed over to the door and opened it. Selina Kyle barely waited until the door was open before she came in. Penelope's heart sank when she realized the other woman was wearing her catsuit. "What is it?" she asked, following Selina into her living room. "What's happened?"

Selina looked at her with a serious look on her face. "Eddie's gone," she said and Penelope felt her stomach drop. "He wasn't in his apartment and he's not picking up his phone."

"Excuse me?"

Penelope sharply turned at the new voice and realized she'd left her front door open. There was a red-haired girl standing in the open doorway, her large green eyes looking beseechingly at her. Penelope's jaw dropped as she looked at the girl's face. It was like looking into Edward Nigma's face twenty years ago. The girl, dressed in an old turquoise coat, awkwardly rubbed her elbow. "Selina said you know my Dad?"

Dad? Penelope gasped, grateful she wasn't holding anything for she would have dropped it. This girl was Edward's daughter? He had a daughter? Why hadn't he told her? Realizing the girl was still standing in the doorway, Penelope awkwardly waved her in. The girl shut the door behind her and joined the other women in the living room. Selina looked at the two of them with a raised eyebrow. "Eddie never told you about her?" she asked.

Penelope shook her head. "No...we don't really talk about our personal lives."

Selina shook her head. "Well," she whispered. "This is a bit awkward."

That was an understatement. Penelope directed the girl to sit in her lounge chair. She did so, continuing to look at her. "What's your name?" Penelope asked.

"Ellen," she answered. "Ellen Dixon."

There were so many questions Penelope wanted to ask this girl, but she quickly realized she needed to stay focused on the matter at hand. "Ellen, what happened?"

Ellen took a deep breath. "I was supposed to meet up with my Old Man this afternoon, but when I got to his apartment, he wasn't there. His door was unlocked, the TV was on and he had a bunch of papers out, but he was gone."

"Papers?" Penelope asked. "What kind of papers?" Had Edward been abducted again or was this about a case?

"It was bunch of articles about Scarecrow," Selina answered. "Doc," she asked in an almost desperate tone. "You saw Eddie yesterday right? Was there any case he was working on that he told you about?"

Penelope shook her head. "No. He was preoccupied about something though. He wouldn't talk about. He left my office when I tried to ask about it. I tried calling him twice yesterday, but he didn't pick up."

"Yesterday!?" Ellen cried out. "You mean he's been gone for a whole day!?"

"We don't know that Ellen," Penelope tried to reassure her. Ellen's face remained stricken, while a dark look came over Selina's.

"He wouldn't..." Penelope heard her murmur. "He didn't..."

Penelope walked up to her. "Selina," she whispered. "Do you know what's going on?"

Selina shook her head. "Not here," she whispered, gesturing back to where Ellen was sitting, watching the two of them with narrow eyes. "I don't want to freak out the kid."

"I'm not stupid you know!" Ellen shouted. "And I'm 15 years old! I'm not a little kid! If you know where my Dad is, tell me!"

Selina looked from Penelope to Ellen, then she sighed. "I think Eddie might have gone after Croc."

Penelope gasped. "Croc? Waylon Jones? Why would-"

Selina pushed past Penelope and walked towards the door. "We need to tell Ozzie. Come on. We'll drop Ellen off and-"

"No!" Ellen shouted. She sprang out of her chair and glared at the older women, the look on her face leaving no doubts in Penelope's mind that she was indeed Edward's child. "I'm coming too!" She stomped her foot for emphasis.

"Ellen," Penelope said carefully. "This is an extremely dangerous situation. I'm sure your father wouldn't want you to get involved-"

"He's my Dad! I already am involved! And I'm not just gonna sit around at home by myself waiting for you guys to call me!"

By herself? "Where is your-"

"My Mom's dead," Ellen cut her off, anticipating the question. "My Gramma's always at work and I hate my aunt." She looked up Penelope then and her eyes were glassy. "I'm not a stupid little kid. I know who my Dad was. I know he's into a lot of dangerous stuff. But he's my Dad. I can't just do nothing."

Penelope wasn't a child psychologist, but she could see how much there was to unpack in whatever relationship there was between Edward and Ellen. She couldn't think about that now though. They needed to find Edward first and they couldn't leave his daughter alone. If she were anything like her father, she'd try to look for him herself. "Alright," she said. "You can come with us to the Iceberg Lounge, but that is as far as you go. No matter what we find out. Understand?"

Ellen nodded. "Yeah, I get it."

Selina nodded. "Alright. Let's go."

The three women had passed the car ride in silence, Penelope driving, Selina looking forward, occupied by her thoughts, and Ellen looking wistfully out the car window. When they'd arrived at the Iceberg Lounge, Penelope and Selina were ushered into the backroom, while Ellen was kept in a waiting room, to her loud protests. Selina and Penelope recounted what they'd learned the past day to Cobblepot. As Selina mentioned the newspapers articles that Edward had out, Oswald's face darkened.

"Selina dear," he said. "Are you implying what I think you're implying?"

"Ozzie, there's no other explanation I can think of. Eddie went after Croc."

Cobblepot groaned and took his face into his hands. "Edward, you fool."

Something was going on that Penelope wasn't aware of. She hated that feeling. "What is going on?" she demanded. "Edward doesn't go after other Rogues. Why would he go after Jones?"

Cobblepot looked up at her with surprise. "You-you really don't know?"

Penelope furrowed her brow. "Know what? What aren't you and Selina telling me?"

Selina and Cobblepot exchanged a long look. "I assumed, given how closely you and Edward have been working together, that you already knew," Cobblepot continued. "But if Edward hasn't told you, I don't know that it's our place to-"

"Listen," Penelope interrupted harshly. "It might not be any of my business, but Edward's daughter is sitting outside this room, almost out of her mind with worry. She deserves to know what's happened to her father!"

Selina and Cobblepot exchanged another look. Finally, Selina sighed. "Doc," she said. "You remember last year at Tetch's hideout? When Eddie and I were talking? When Eddie was going on about 'the person he needed the most'?"

Penelope felt her heart begin to pound and nodded. "Yes."

Selina took a hand through her short black hair. "That person was Jonathan Crane."

For the second time that evening, Penelope's jaw dropped. "Edward and Professor Crane? They were lovers?"

Selina look wide eyed at her. "Professor-Wait. Don't tell me. Crane was your professor!?"

Penelope nodded, barely registering the question. "He was. Briefly." It had been her sophomore year at Gotham University. Crane's class on Fear and Phobias was considered by most other students in the psychology program as the most difficult and disturbing class the school had to offer. She hadn't been able to resist the challenge. She'd known the man before he was a Rogue. She'd even respected him. She'd felt regretful when she'd heard what had happened to him during the riot- She sank into a chair in front of Oswald's desk as the realization dawned on her. Edward and Crane had been lovers. Crane had died while Edward was in a coma. Edward had woken up in a hostile world, with little to no memories of his past, and his lover was dead. That was the past event that Joan had noted. Everything about his distant behavior made a horrible sense to her now. It was a Delayed Grief Response. He'd been using his work as an excuse to not deal with his emotions about Crane, and hearing the news about Jones' escape must have been the spark that had set him off. "We have to find him," she said. She looked up at Cobblepot and Selina. "We have to find Edward. He's not behaving rationally. If he confronts Jones in the state he's in, he'll get killed!"

"Not that I don't agree Dr. Young, but that's easier said then done," Cobblepot said. "Croc could be anywhere underneath Gotham. I'll certainly send my men out, but it will be like looking for a needle in a haystack."

"Ozzie," Selina said, giving him a sharp look. "You and I both know there's only one person who has any chance of finding Eddie in time."

Cooblepot scowled and Penelope knew who Selina was referring to. "Batman?" she asked.

Selina nodded. "I know you don't like it Ozzie, but we really don't have any other choice."

Penelope agreed. Edward would be furious, but that was better than him being dead. For a long moment, Penelope sat deep in thought, her mind going over every interaction she'd had with Edward over the past year, now that she had this new information. She was a trained psychiatrist. Why hadn't she seen this? She remembered too back at the Asylum, before the riot. After Edward had fallen into his coma, there had been a period of time when Crane had been even more uncooperative in his sessions with his doctors. He'd even physically attacked an orderly before being put into solitary. It had passed after a few weeks and no one thought any more about it. Had he been in mourning for Edward? He must have been, the timing fit. Why had no one made the connection? No one had thought Crane or Edward capable of being in a romantic relationship probably, let alone be in one with each other. Penelope sighed. Between this and the discovery of Ellen's existence, one thing was becoming clear to her. For all the time she'd spent with him in sessions at Arkham and working with him now, she really didn't know Edward at all.

The sound of the door opening drew her out of her thoughts. One of the restaurant managers poked his head inside the office. "Mr. Cobblepot? The kid's having a fit about being in the waiting room. She says she's going to walk out. What do you want us to do with her?"

Penelope got up out of her chair and answered before Cobblepot could respond. "I'll talk to her." She turned to Selina. "Do what you need to do. Call me as soon as you find out anything."

Selina nodded. "Will do."

Penelope walked out of the office and followed the manager down the hallway towards the waiting room Ellen had been left in. She heard Ellen arguing with another manager as she approached. "I don't care what that fat ass said, I'm outta here! I'm gonna go find my Dad with or without you morons!"

Penelope reached the room just as the other manager stormed out. "You here for that brat?" he asked as he passed her. "Good luck!"

Penelope ignored him and almost walked right into Ellen. Ellen calmed down only slightly when she saw her. "Well?" she asked. "What's going on? Are we going to go find my Dad?"

Penelope sighed. "No," she said. "Selina's going to call Batman. He'll find your father, I promise."

Ellen's eyes widened at the mention of Batman, then she finally relaxed. "OK," she nodded. "OK. "

Penelope felt relieved. At least Ellen wouldn't be tempted to run after her father now, she hoped. Ellen looked quizzically at her. "I still don't get it," she said. "Why would Pops go after Croc?"

Penelope bit her lip. "Ellen," she asked. "How much does your father talk about his past with you?"

Ellen shrugged. "Not much." She scoffed. "He doesn't really talk to me about his cases either. He thinks I'm 'too young' to hear about it."

It seemed Edward kept a fair degree of separation between Ellen and his work. Penelope didn't think she'd do any differently in his place, but it would make this conversation awkward. "Ellen," she said. "We think your father went after Jones because of what he did to Jonathan Crane."

Ellen looked confused for a moment. "Scarecrow? Why would he-" Then she seemed to make the same realization Penelope had earlier. "No way. Pops and Scarecrow-That's why he's got a box of stuff about him? They used to date?"

"That's a conversation you'll have to have with your father when Batman finds him." Batman would find him. Penelope had to believe that.

Ellen's face fell. "Pops ran off to try to kill Croc, didn't he?"

Penelope didn't know. She wasn't sure if Edward had gone after Jones for information, or for vengeance. She hoped it was the former, but..."It's almost eight. I should take you back home."

Ellen nodded. Penelope went to lead her out of the restaurant and back to her car when Ellen suddenly said, "My Gramma's not getting back until really late." She looked up at her plaintively. "Will you stay with me for a bit? I don't wanna be alone."

Penelope didn't need to think about her answer. "Yes." She owed Edward that much.

#pi verse #regarding jonathan crane #riddler's daughter

[gvbejvmesmichaels]

Drabble: Reflections - One Year Later

Title: Reflections - One Year Later Or the update/remix you asked for Rating: R for language Relationships: Gabe/Johnny, past Gabe/the Russian Warnings: None? Summary: A remixed version of Too Old to Text and Reflections. Notes: For you.

January, 2020

This was not a call he wanted to make, but he’d done everything he needed to do. He’d had papers served, and he'd gone back and forth with the lawyers -- nothing worked. And he knew what this was, what this really was. It was a fucking powerplay. He was still pissed that he’d been dumped and was purposely making Gabe’s life more annoying than it needed to be. It should have been easy - one and done. 

All he legally needed was for Gregor Rasputin to sign off on using his likeness. It was a standard contract for artists, and it was designed to protect artists from having their subjects sue for half their commission. He didn’t think that Razz would sue, but Gabe wasn’t willing to chance it, and neither was Sully, his agent. He had a show at the end of February and there were pieces he wanted to show, but he couldn’t if Razz was going to be a dick.

It was with that thought in mind that he settled in his studio and called his ex-lover (boyfriend was never a term he had used for him). The clock said 12am, which meant it was 8am for Razz. Unless the other man was determined to dodge Gabe entirely, this was his best chance to reach the other man. If he refused to sign the papers, he was going to need to rethink the entire theme of his show, and the thing was -- he didn’t want to. He had a vision and he was determined to see it come to life.

“Yashcheritsa!” Razz greeted, sounding far too pleasant for 8 in the morning, and for the fact he was on the phone with his ex. “You’re up late, no? Is Printsessa still keeping you up at odd hours?”

He closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was not a game he felt like playing. “Razz.” He scolded, rolling his eyes, even though he knew the other man couldn’t see him. “I’m half-asleep as it is and I don’t have time for this. You know why I’m calling.”

The other man didn’t respond right away. Maybe he was looking for the right words; maybe his English was getting rusty. Gabe didn’t exactly care; all he wanted was to get his answer right from the source - fuck lawyers (‘aren’t you trying to?’ the Georgie voice in his head helpfully supplied). “Yashcheritsa, I don’t like the idea of pictures of me just existing for others to see.”

Gabe scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s not like that…” He promised. “No one is going to even know that it’s you. It’s not exactly a picture of your face.”

There was a sound of surprise from the other end of the phone. “Gabrelle.” Razz sounded scandalized. “What body part will people be seeing?”

He couldn’t help the snicker that escaped. Sometimes all he could think about was the fact that he was essentially a thirteen year old boy. “Not the body part you’re thinking about.” He frowned as he thought about it for a moment. “Okay, part of the body part you’re thinking about, but not that actual body part.” 

It was quiet again, but this time Gabe knew that Razz was thinking. “This is important to you?” He finally asked.

“Very.”

Razz sighed. “I will sign tonight.” He promised.

The smile that spread across his face was genuine. “Thank you.” He said and he found that he meant it.

February 2020

Gabe paced the length of his bedroom, the dogs laying on the bed watching his movements. He was pretty sure they were waiting to see if they needed to get off the bed and follow him out of the room. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he stopped and stared down at his cell phone. “You can do this. It’s not fucking rocket science. Just stop being a pussy and do it.” He closed his eyes, the phone feeling heavy in his hands. “Fuck. Why is this so hard? It’s a text. It’s just a text.” 

He jumped as his phone went off in his hand. Had he accidentally sent a voice to text? Horrified he stared down at his phone, but it was just an incoming text from The Russian. 

Updated release signed. Sent to Sully.

It was strange to think that part of his show was so reliant on his ex-lover signing particular documents. He didn’t respond to the text message and instead stared down at his left hand or rather at the inside of his hand where there was an ugly gash running up the palm. The stitches had come out the day before, but his hand still looked nasty. Sighing again, he looked back at his cell phone and swiped away from the text from Razz. He scanned through his incoming texts. He’d been pretty shitty at replying to his texts as of late. There had just been so many coming in and he just didn’t want to deal with it.

He scanned through the texts, looking for anything to do other than the thing he’d told himself he was going to do. They were basically the same thing, but from different people.

It’s been awhile since you’ve done a show. Are you nervous? Are you sure you want to do a showing?

It was strange. How long had it been since the last time he showed? It hadn’t been that long, had it? Why was it such a big deal now? Had his show right after the divorce really been that much of a shit show?

Sighing, he scrolled past the texts until he got to the person he was looking for. His finger hovered over the name for a moment before he finally clicked on Jay, and, boy, was it fucking weird seeing his name as something other than Do Not Answer.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he tapped out a message: I have a gallery opening next week, and I’d love it if you came.

“I sound like a fucking fifteen year old girl.” He whined out as he deleted it and tapped out a different message.

My new exhibit is opening at Nik’s gallery next week. Did you want to come?

“God, this is fucking stupid. You’ve known him for like 14 years. Just send him the fucking text.” He deleted the text again, and swore under his breath. “Stop being such a fucking chicken shit.”

Next week my new exhibit opens at Nik’s gallery. Would you like to come to the opening with me?

This time he actually sent the damn text. “I still chickened out, didn’t I?” He asked the dogs. “Shit.” 

To be clear – as my date.

And then because he always seemed to freak out when it came to Johnny, as soon as he sent the text, he threw the phone onto the bed, earning yelps and growls from the dogs as it landed too close to them.

“Sorry, sorry.” He bit his lip, and closed his eyes before tilting his head up towards the ceiling. “You happy, G?” He asked as though the dead could hear him. “I did the thing. I asked my ex-husband out.” His eyes widened. “Shit, I asked my ex-husband out… What the fuck am I doing?”

Friday, February 28, Opening Day of Reflections

7am

“Gabe?” Nik’s voice echoed through the gallery. “I really hope you’re in here and someone didn’t break in.”

Using a creeper, he was laying on the floor of the gallery, installing rods to support one of his pieces.  It was an intricate installation piece and he was terrified that due to the nature of the base, the glass bits were going to weigh down the base, break, shatter all over the floor, and he was going to be a disgrace in the art world.

“I’m in the inner chamber!” He called out. When she had left the night before most of the temporary display walls he’d set up to separate the sections of his show hadn’t been completely installed yet. Now her gallery was one giant maze.

There was no response for a moment, and Gabe figured that she was trying to orient herself. “How do I get there?” She called out in response.

“What room are you in?” The thin rods were weaved inside of the base to blend in so they weren’t noticeable to the viewer. He wasn’t sure how many rods he was going to need, but he figured if he weaved in at least ten, it would be strong enough.

“I think I’m at the circus.”

Gabe groaned. “Yep, I’m changing the lighting in there. I knew the lights were too bright.” He huffed out. “Either walk past the wedding rings or come in through the back and come through the looking glass.”

It was quiet so Gabe figured she was maneuvering through the exhibits and got distracted. He went back to weaving another rod through when suddenly a hand was on his foot, and he startled so badly that he almost broke the damn thing he was trying to fix. “The fuck.” He snapped out as he was rolled out of his piece. “You break it, you buy it. And my shit isn’t cheap.”

Nik just raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you sleep at all last night or were you here the whole time?” She asked, even though he was pretty sure she knew the answer to that. 

“It just needs to be perfect.” He said as he sat up. “All my shows are personal but this one is…”

“A love letter. I know.” She told him, giving his knee a gentle pat. “Go home and sleep. I’ll fix the lighting for you.”

Gabe shook his head. “I need to get that done, and I need to put the hands in this piece and-”

Taking his hands, Nik pulled him to his feet. “I know, Gabe. I’ve seen the footprint you provided.” She said pushing him towards the back. “I have to set up for the cocktail portion of the evening, too. I’m perfectly capable of finishing the things up here. You need to sleep.”

“I still have-”

Nik shook her head. “I’ll call DJ on you.” She threatened. “Or worse. I’ll call Katie and watch her drag you home by your ear.”

Gabe groaned. “And you’ll follow my directions exactly?” And he regretted the question as soon as he saw the look on Nik’s face. “Fine, fine. I’m going, I’m going.”

9:51am

He was lying face down on his bed, George and Gulliver asleep on either side of him while Scully lay on her bed, snoozing away when his phone went off. Still more asleep than awake, he blindly reached for his phone and answered it with a tired, “Uh-llo.”

“Briel? You never responded to my text. What time am I picking you up tonight?” 

Still more asleep than anything else, he let himself drift back towards sleep. He knew that voice so it was okay to fall back asleep.  That was a good voice, a trustworthy voice. “Mmhmm.”

“Let me guess. You were up all night doing finishing touches on your show and you’re just now sleeping.” The other man theorized. He really did know Gabe well.

Gabe snuggled his face deeper into his pillow as he listened to Johnny talk. “Got kicked out.” He slurred. His whole life he’d talked in his sleep, and offered out pure gibberish in response to questions when someone woke him up. Chances were that he wouldn’t even remember this conversation. It wouldn’t be the first time he had a full conversation with Johnny and didn’t remember a single word. It probably also wouldn’t be the last time.

There was a warm laugh. “Briel, are you awake or asleep?” His ex-husband asked him, knowing very well from first hand experience what he was like when he was asleep.

“Yes. The sirens call to me to lull me back to the place of dreams.” Another laugh. “Briel, who are you on the phone with right now?”

“JJM.” He mumbled out, letting sleep wash over him, going back to his habit of referring to people by their initials. He’d done it a lot when he was younger, which was how the kids wound up with their nicknames of CJ and DJ.

There was no response at first. “Who is JJM?” And there was a strange hitch to the other man’s voice.

“Jonathan James-Michaels.” Gabe responded like it was a stupid question.

It was quiet and Gabe was almost fully asleep again before: “What time am I getting you tonight?” He asked tentatively.

“5:30.”

“At your place?”

The phone felt really heavy in his hand. He was going to be non-responsive any minute now.

“Mmhmm. GB wants to see our pretty clothes.”

He never heard Johnny’s response; he was already fully asleep again.

11:15am

Gabe’s arm was lifted and a little warm body slithered underneath before Bella put her head on the same pillow that Gabe was using. His granddaughter usually ran warm, but she was warmer than usual. 

“Old man.” Drew touched his face until his eyes opened and he was actually awake and blinking up at his oldest child. “Old man, I gotta go pick up the shit for tonight. The kid’s running a fever so I’m leaving her with you.” He kept his hand on his face until he was sure that the words made sense to him.

Yawning, Gabe sat up and laid on his back, Bella immediately readjusting and snuggling onto his side for warmth and comfort. “W’a ‘ime issit?” He asked tiredly, an arm wrapping around Bella so she wouldn’t roll off the bed. He had no idea where the dogs wandered off to.

“A little after eleven.” His son told him. “But go back to sleep. You got a couple of hours to sleep yet.” He reassured him before slipping out of the room.

“Family should respect my vampirism.” He mumbled out incoherently.

“I res-ped.” Bella agreed before they both fell back asleep.

4:45pm

“I don’t know what to wear.” Gabe whined as he ransacked through his closet. He was already fully dressed in an outfit that Juliet had both picked out and had pressed for him. The dark slacks would hit the tops of his shoes just right, and the light blue button-up fit just right. He trusted his former stepdaughter’s judgement when it came to clothes, but that didn’t stop his nerves from spiraling out of control.

“Aren’t you already dressed?” Drew asked in complete and total confusion. He and Maxxie were both in his bed with Bella. They’d been dating for a couple of months, but he wasn’t sure when he would get used to his son dating his friend. Sure, Maxxie was only a couple of years older than Drew, but it felt like his two worlds colliding; he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Their backs were pressed against the headboard, and Bella was strewn across their laps. She had already liked Maxxie, but now that he was dating Drew, who happened to live with them? She was constantly in a state of happiness being surrounded by the people she liked best in the world. She was still warm to the touch, but her fever wasn’t high enough to make him nervous enough to cancel. “Because you look dressed.” His son continued.

Bella blinked sleepily up at him. “GG, you look pretty.” She said before yawning and burying her face into Maxxie’s stomach.

“You’re stalling, which is totally adorable.” Maxxie chimed in. And he wasn’t sure why Maxxie was getting ready at his place instead of getting ready at his own place and picking up Drew later. All he knew was that his friend had shown up carrying a bag and wearing nothing but a silk robe. He was really hoping it wasn’t some sort of weird sex thing.

He made a face at Maxxie. “I’m not stalling. I’m just nervous about tonight.” He corrected, pulling himself away from his closet and sitting on the bed with the kids.

Drew shrugged, but it was Maxxie who spoke. “I don’t know why you’re so nervous. It’s just a date, and you guys were married for like 10 years.” He said nonchalantly. 

Gabe blinked. “I meant about the show.” He said, giving him a weird look. 

“Oh. I don’t know why you’re nervous about that part. I would be more nervous about going on a date with my ex-husband.” His son chimed in.

He groaned. “Gee, thanks for that.”

5:30pm

“Why is he picking you up so early?” Drew asked as he held onto Bella so Gabe could put medicine in the two year old’s ears. She always tended to be slightly more agreeable when her uncle was involved in her medicine-giving, but only slightly. She would have been more agreeable if Maxxie was holding her, but he’d disappeared into the furnished basement which was essentially Drew’s apartment.

Gabe shrugged. “I got a text when I was sleeping telling me he was, but apparently I was on the phone with him for five minutes when I was asleep so I probably told him to get me early.” He admitted, petting Bella’s hair to keep her from squirming too much. “I probably figured I needed a chaperone.”

His son rolled his eyes as Gabe scooped Bella out of his arms once he got the medication in her ears. “I don’t want to be your guys’ chaperone.” He practically whined out.

There was a knock on the front door, and suddenly Maxxie was standing on the stairs that led from the living room to Drew’s lair. His hair was done up in rollers, which elicited a giggle from Bella. “Your date is here!” Maxxie announced excitedly before flapping his hands in Gabe’s direction. “Go put the baby down-”

“Not a baby, Maxxie Mouse.” Bella complained.

“Of course you’re not, baby.” Maxxie soothed before turning his attention back to Gabe. “Go. He needs to see the effect of you coming down the stairs in those pants.” 

He rolled his eyes, but still did as he was told. As he set Bella down in her bed, he could hear Maxxie open the front door. “You have a party.” Bella snuggled into her bed, Scully already on the bed with her, a protective paw on Bella’s leg. “You sleep here? Or you sleep there?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Gabe admitted, thinking more about how parties tended to go with his friends, not so much about how things could go with Johnny. “But Grey is gonna spend the night here, and Kid and Abby are going to look after you both. You’re gonna be good for Abby, right?”

Bella nodded. “The best.” She promised before pointing at her cheek demandingly. “Kiss, now.”

Laughing, he pressed a kiss to her cheek before passing over her LeapPad and stepping into the hallway. He ran a hand over his slacks, making sure they were wrinkle-free and dog hair free. Unable to stall any longer, he walked down the stairs, pausing midway at the sight of Johnny standing in the living room with Maxxie and Drew. He wasn’t sure who looked more uncomfortable: Johnny or Drew.

Seeing Johnny in a suit would always make his heart skip a beat. Now he knew why Juliet was so damn determined to get him in light blue; she wanted him to match her father’s eyes. “I feel like we’re fucking going to prom.” 

Johnny’s hands were stuffed into his pockets and when he looked at Gabe, really looked at him, Gabe found that he needed to hold onto the handrail for support. “You look better than going to prom.” His ex-husband murmured out, looking uncomfortable, like he didn’t know what to say or what to do in this given situation and then… “How are you feeling? You always used to get so nervous.”

A smile slid onto his features, all previous thoughts immediately dismissed. Years later and the other man still knew him better than anyone else in the world. “I still do.” He looked down at his feet, once again feeling like a teenage girl about to go to Prom with the Quarterback. Hearing Maxxie clear his throat was what prompted him to continue down the stairs and to his date. “I’m feeling a lot calmer now.”

7:00pm

They’re sitting in the car outside of the gallery, and it’s taking everything in Gabe to not run away. This was probably the most nervous he’d been for a show in a very long time. When he first got out of prison, he’d opened every emotion he’d ever felt for other people to see, but lately he hadn’t been as raw, as open, as intimate with his art as he was in the beginning of his career. Hell, this is probably the most intimate and public he’d ever been.

“You’re terrified of what everyone’s going to think.” Johnny told him, staring out at the gallery, instead of looking over at Gabe. “What’s so different about this one?”

He ran a hand over his mouth as he thought about an answer that wouldn’t ruin the truth of what Johnny was about to walk into. When it came to his shows, Gabe liked to generally keep Johnny in the dark. His reactions to Gabe’s work was always one of the rare times where his features weren’t schooled, when his emotions showed all over his face. Those were his favorite reactions. “It’s more personal than usual.” He finally admitted. “My heart is spread out there on the walls. Every ounce of it.” 

“You’ve gone through a lot. You used to tell me that’s what made the best pieces.” His ex laid his hand over Gabe’s and gave it a squeeze. His hand lingered over Gabe’s for a couple of extra moments, and Gabe wanted to grab his hand back when he pulled away. “I’ve wanted to ask how you are after… everything. After coming back from Russia, after everything that’s been happening with Connie, but I’m guessing I’ll get my answer in there.”

Gabe couldn’t help but to close his eyes, his hand already feeling cold. “I’m… probably less broken up than I’m supposed to be. It’s not really anything to do with Connie in there. There’s a bit about him, but he’s not exactly the focal point of my show.” He swallowed and glanced over at Johnny, chewing on his lip as he did so. “There’s stuff about you in there.”

The other man swallowed and then took a deep breath before making eye contact with Gabe. “Whatever it is, I’m not going to be upset.” He promised. “Unless it’s my ass again.” 

Gabe’s laughter filled the car.

7:15pm

The nerves returned as Gabe and Johnny stepped into the gallery. These were his familiar pre-show jitters. The ideas he had in his head didn’t always translate to other people, which was the risk that came from being an artist. Opening night meant translating his mind onto a canvas of some kind. Not everyone would understand his vision, which was so fucking nerve-wracking. Taking a deep breath, he took Johnny’s hand and they walked into the gallery.

He’d taken over the entire gallery, something that Gabe was incredibly grateful to Nik for allowing. She said it helped her more than it helped him, but he was still grateful for her and everything she’d done for him. As soon as anyone walked through the front door, they were greeted by a white display wall. Mounted on the wall were 15 mirrors, each surrounded by iridescent painted metal, surrounding the varying sized round mirrors like a cage. A 6”x6” sign was on the far right corner: Inside the Mirror, 2019, metal on mirrored glass. Gabe watched as Johnny detached his hand from his and wandered along the path, his fingers hovering over the caged mirrors, as though he was doing his best not to touch them.

Inside the Mirror was the beginning of the little maze that Gabe had created. If the person walked to the left, they were led to a small room. One side of the room had a white wall with lights playing against it that made it look like it was snowing. The whole room actually was designed to mimic a frigid cold environment. Everything was stark white and silver. It didn’t look sterile so much as it looked as though it should be below zero.

In front of the white wall was a half-wall of blown glass onion domes, backlit by lights. It was supposed to mimic how Gabe had felt when he was walking down the streets of Saint Petersburg, alone with a toddler. A 6”x6” sign was on the far left corner: Candied Onions, 2020, glass. 

It didn’t look like they were at the circus any more. Nik had shifted the lights down so the room was bathed in what Gabe would only describe as stained glass magic. It almost felt like the cold sun was shining through the glass, and not like a clown was going to jump out from around the corner any minute.

On the display wall opposite the glass wall of onion domes, there were three paintings. The first painting was mascara painted on a faded out mirror.  The was a 6”x6” sign to the right of the painting: Homo/Hetero, 2019, glass.

It was a man’s muscular leg and thigh, as seen from profile. Instead of being biologically correct, where his dick should have been was a shredded Pride flag. Nerves ran up his spine as he watched Johnny study his piece, but he didn’t stay at that one for very long before moving onto the next piece. 

The sign to the right of this one read: Iced Out, 2020, canvas. There were two families drawn in charcoal on canvas. One family was the outline of a father holding his daughter. Their bodies were painted out in watercolor earth tones. The father was holding the hand of another man, and this man’s outline was painted out in cool tones. The side closest to the father was a light blue that turned into an icier blue, which turned to look like ice as he got further away from the father. Next to that man was a man and woman painted to look like Matryoshka dolls.

The third painting was on what used to be someone’s oak dinner table. A hundred different wedding rings were painted out in melted chrome. Some were embedded deeply into the wood, while other ones were just barely on the surface. This one had taken months to get right. The sign for this one read: Wooden Rings, 2019. Of all the pieces in this room, this piece was the one that had Johnny’s attention. He stood in front of it for what felt like a long time, his fingers tracing over the rings. Sometimes Johnny was worse than the kids when it came to his work; he needed to be reminded to touch with his eyes. Something about seeing him with this piece though… He didn’t have the heart to tell him not to touch.

“There’s more.” Gabe murmured out, not wanting to speak too loudly in the quiet atmosphere he’d created. “This room leads to a bigger room, but I don’t want you to see the middle room yet. I need you to go back the other way.” 

He didn’t know how to explain it, but Johnny didn’t look like he was listening to Gabe, like he was in the current moment. It was like he was hypnotized by Gabe’s work, which left him very proud. “Why?” The other man finally told him, even as he was wandering back the way they had just come. “Stop worrying.”

The room to the right was laid out similarly to the left room. Instead of onion domes, there was a wall of blue ocean waves made out of blown glass, back lit the same as the other room. The sign for this one read: Cool Blue, 2020, glass. As an opposition to the piece in the other room, this one made the person feel like they were standing in water, like it was lapping gently at your feet. This room also felt warmer than the other room had. Winter vs Summer.

Seeing Johnny standing in the middle of this room made his stomach do little flip flops. The lighting brought out the blue in his eyes just right, which almost took Gabe’s breath away. God, that man was gorgeous.

On the opposite wall, there were three paintings, same as the other room. The first painting motor oil painted on a sheet of translucent blue glass. There were strong thighs, like the other room, but this was painted as a front view. This time, however, the space where the dick should have been was blank. It was an optical illusion making it appear as though the viewer was giving head. Seeing Johnny stand in front of it, gave Gabe a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. It just looked… weird seeing him standing like that in front of his own legs. The small sign next to it read: Masculine Vulnerability, 2018, glass.

Thankfully Johnny didn’t stand in front of it for very long before moving onto the next painting. If Gabe was totally honest, this painting was probably his favorite of all the paintings he had on display. The plaque for this one read: Ocean Dreams, 2019, canvas. For once one of his paintings was actually on a traditional canvas. It was layer after layer of blue and white paint, giving an ocean effect. In the beginning he hadn’t actually known what he was doing, but when he realized what effect the layers of paint had, he kept going. It turned out quite good, if you were to ask him. Johnny’s fingers hovered over it, like he wanted to touch, but he behaved himself this time.

The third painting was done on an old wooden glass window with four panes. He’d acquired it last year during one of his wandering through antique shop adventures, but he’d been hanging onto it for months, not sure what to do with it. A few weeks ago it had hit him, and he’d worked on it feverishly until it turned into what his mind had wanted.  In each pane was hand drawn burned out divorce papers. He’d painted carefully onto the backside of the glass so that if someone touched the front, the paint wouldn’t smear or flake. The sign for this one read: Burning Regret, 2020, glass.

Johnny stood in front of this one for a very long time, and when the meaning behind this piece, behind the show hit him, it was like watching a light bulb go off over the other man’s head. “I…” He watched his ex-husband swallow. “What’s next?”

It took Gabe a stupidly long moment to realize that they were holding hands again. When had that happened? The only place left to go was the room in the middle - to the piece that Gabe had been working on in the morning. To be fair, there were three pieces in there, but Gabe was only really worried about one of them. “You can’t touch the piece in there.” He reminded Johnny, knowing the other man too well. “You’ll know the one I’m talking about when you see it.” He whispered out. “I didn’t do a weight test on it yet. Eventually it’s going to be interactive, but I wanted it to be ready for this show. There’s a lot of starch, and glue, and magic holding it up.” He gave his ex’s hand a squeeze. “You go in first.” 

The first piece in the room was his latest piece in the Mythology of Muse series, Hades & Persephone. It was glass painted into wood. Like all of the pieces in this series, the subjects were seen from behind, and they weren’t wearing any clothing. This time it was two men, seen only from behind from the waist up. They’re holding hands, but their hands are burnt. One man was made to look like fire and ash while the other man was made to look like water with water lilies. The men balance each other out: fire and water, seemingly very different but necessary to the other to stay in check. Their bodies are tilted away from each other, but their heads are bent towards each other. 

Johnny stood in front of this piece for a very long time, and Gabe couldn’t help but to find himself wondering if Johnny understood what he was trying to say. As much as he loved his ex-husband, the man could be incredibly dense when Gabe’s art was about him. He never seemed to understand why Gabe found him so fascinating and why he was constantly a feature in his art. He hoped this time, he’d get it. Gabe thought it was pretty clear what the painting signified, but he was also the person who made it, so what did he know? 

The next piece in the room was a last minute addition. This was the piece he’d been obsessed with and made in the last week. He’d had inspiration after a conversation with Johnny and hadn’t been able to get the imagery they’d created during that conversation out of his head. It had been a couple of weeks ago, and Gabe had broken a mug. They’d stood in the kitchen of a house they’d designed together, but now belonged to Johnny. Blood had been pouring freely from Gabe’s hand while Johnny had stood between his legs, a cloth in hand as he tried to stop the bleeding. 

The sheer imagery of that moment, nothing longer than a few minutes, had bounced around Gabe’s head for days before he finally figured out a way to bring it to life. It had been his obsession this whole week. This was the piece Gabe had been the most nervous about. Every ounce of who he was and what he wanted to tell Johnny was poured out into this piece. 

It was an art installation piece, and there was a small stand with the plaque displaying the name: String of Fate, 2020, sculpture. It was a sculpture of two hands made out of glass, and it looked as though they were balancing on nothing but red string. 

One hand was made out of white glass and the other hand was made of black glass. The black hand was holding the white hand, forming imagery of yin and yang. It went along with his theme of two things balancing each other out. The white hand had a cut in the middle and red string poured out of it like blood. The string wrapped around both hands and the string twisted around and around in circles forming a stand that held the two hands up. The metal rods he’d been weaving into the string that morning seemed to be holding all right, which sent a wave of relief over him.

Unlike his other pieces, Johnny barely looked at this one before he was turning away from it. For a moment Gabe was terrified that the other man hated it, but then he saw his face. His face was flushed and tears were on his face. Before Gabe could process what was happening, Johnny’s hands were on his face and he was kissing him.

It was like coming home after a long time. The nerves were melting away. They still had a ton of shit to talk about and work through, but all that mattered in the given moment was that Johnny was kissing him. 

When Johnny pulled away, all Gabe could think to do was wipe the wetness away from his ex-husband’s face as the other man gently cupped Gabe’s jaw. “This is my love letter to you.” Gabe managed out when he was able to say words again. “I take it that you like it?” 

Johnny laughed. “Yes, I love it.” And his lips were on his again. “I love it.” He repeated, his hands moving to straighten Gabe’s shirt. “And everyone else will, too, but not as much as I do.” 

And that was all Gabe needed to hear for the stupid smile to slid onto his features. That was the only critic that Gabe ever cared about anyway.

“There’s another piece.” He murmured out, glancing back at Through the Looking Glass, an interactive piece that guests needed to literally walk through to get to the party in the other part of the gallery.

His ex nodded, and tugged Gabe against him. Suddenly Gabe forgot what they were talking about. 

9:30pm

The party was in full swing, and Gabe had long since been separated from Johnny. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t know where the other man was; he’d been able to catch his eyes from across the room all night. No, now came Gabe’s least favorite part, where he was being passed around from person to person. Weirdly enough, it reminded him of prison - that feeling of too many people in too small of a space. 

“Gabriel,” The art critic from the Times brought Gabe back into the present. “There seems to be an ongoing theme of duality in your pieces this evening. Is there a reason why you chose to call this show Reflections?”

He took a sip of champagne, if only to buy himself some additional time to think of his response. Why did these guys always assume that he had some sort of hidden meaning and philosophy behind his work? Thankfully over the years, he’d mostly gotten good at throwing random shit out there that the reporters tended to buy. 

“The duality theme is in reference to me and my exploration of who I am and what I wanted out of life. In general, every piece is a study of my own self-reflection. The past two and a half years have been about me figuring out who I am, what I want, and where my heart lies. Sure, there are mirrors. I’ve always enjoyed using mirrors as a canvas, but really all of this is a reflection of who I’ve become as a person.” And Jesus fuck. He needed to stop drinking soon. He always waxed poetic when he was buzzed and drunk.

The art critic ate up Gabe’s words and Gabe glanced around to see where Johnny had wandered off to. However, the next question had Gabe’s head whipping back to the critic. “Your break-up with D.A. Michaels was pretty public. Divorce tends to be messy when both parties are in the limelight. The political world and the art world are two very different scenes, but it was a pretty public breakup by New York standards nonetheless.”

Gabe didn’t know where the reporter was going with this, but he found himself finishing his drink and nodding anyway. “Yes, but we handled it maturely.” If anyone called one party losing himself in bottles and going to Hawaii with his legal secretary while the other got very very high at an artist’s retreat and then burning pictures from said Hawaii trip mature.

“I can see that.” The reporter said slowly, and Gabe just knew he was going to hate the next words out of the other man’s mouth. “Does your ex-husband usually come to all your shows? Or only when they’re about him?”

And suddenly Gabe wished he hadn’t finished his drink. What was it that Johnny had said when Juliet found him and Johnny kissing near String of Fate earlier and wanted to know what that made them? “I won’t be answering any questions about Jay- D.A. Michaels at this time.”

10:15pm

“OLD MAN!” Drew crashed into him, his brown hair smacking Gabe in the face. His arms looped around his neck, and Maxxie was staggering right behind him. Yep, someone had definitely been dipping into the free booze. Connie trailed behind them, which was a shock. Usually she wanted nothing to do with him and his art, but maybe she was sober and playing nice. Or maybe Drew had asked her to come because he knew how much it would mean to Gabe for both his children to be at his opening night. 

“There you are!” Drew announced. “I can’t believe you made all that stuff!” He leaned into him, and Gabe just laughed and gave his son a hug. “It’s so shiny!” 

“I think someone should be cutting you off soon.” He said with a laugh before turning his attention over to his daughter. To be fair, he wasn’t sure what his daughter was going to think about this show. “What did you think of the show?”

Connie shrugged and he realized now just how uncomfortable she looked. “You being good at art had never been your problem. You prioritizing your relationships and your art over us and mom was your problem.” She snapped out.

Her words made Gabe’s stomach turn, and he took a gulp of his fresh glass of champagne, watching as Maxxie and Drew wandered off. Being left alone with his daughter wasn’t exactly comfortable.

“Are you really getting back together with him?” And Gabe must have made a face because his daughter rolled her eyes. “You’re not a subtle person. Besides, I saw you guys holding hands earlier. You have a weird thing about holding hands. What was it that you told me once? It’s one of the most intimate things two people can do?” 

Gabe found himself blushing, but he didn’t break eye contact with his daughter. “It’s like someone pressed pause on an old cassette tape. It’s a little warped, but it still picks up where it left off.” He told her, his gaze searching across the room to find Johnny again. “Excuse me. You should probably keep an eye on your brother anyway.”

10:30pm

His back was pressed against one of the walls in the gallery, the light from the ocean room the only light. All he knew was that it was dark enough in the room that no one would find them, unless they were really looking for them. There were lips on his neck, a leg wedged between his, and a hand on his hip. For his part, he had one arm wrapped around Johnny’s neck and the other one on his ass.

“Think anyone will notice if we run away?” And at this point he’d had too many glasses of champagne and just wanted to be away from all the people.  

His ex was saying something, but Gabe wasn’t paying that much attention since he was kissing him, pulling back only to say one word before kissing him again. He was in sensory overload. All he could smell was Johnny, all he could feel was Johnny, and all he could taste was Johnny. In the back of his mind, he found himself wondering if he could taste the half a pack of cigarettes he’d smoked prior to Johnny picking him up. 

“Come home.” And Johnny wasn’t kissing him any more, but they were sharing the same air. They were so close that all Gabe needed to do was tilt his head up just right to kiss him again. The other man’s words caught Gabe off-guard. Home. That was such a foreign concept to him at this point. It was strange to think that after these years, Johnny still thought of the house as theirs. “Just for tonight, just so I can keep kissing you. Say yes and I’ll stop dragging you away from your party.”

Maybe it was the emotions of the day, or maybe it was the alcohol, but Gabe couldn’t imagine giving him any other answer than the word that poured easily out of his lips. “Okay.” And his mouth was on his again. “Okay.”

11:05pm

“Seriously?” Juliet groaned as she got a good look at Gabe who’d slipped out of the back part of the gallery before Johnny did. “What are you guys? Teenagers?” She wasn’t faring any better than Drew and Maxxie in terms of dipping into the free booze and her shoes were long since abandoned somewhere. “Can’t take you anywhere.”

Her hands straightened out Gabe’s shirt. “I really don’t want to know what you guys were doing in there.” She murmured out before trying to tuck the tail of Gabe’s shirt back in. “But you have a hickey on your neck.”

“I do not.” He said with a half laugh, twisting his head to see if he could see what she was talking about. There was a small flash of purple, and he groaned. “Okay, I do. I’m going to kill him.”

Juliet laughed. “It’s good to see you happy, Papa Bear.” She said, hugging him tightly. “Both of you.”

He sighed. “Jules, we still have a lot to work through.” He tried to tell her, but his step-daughter just laughed and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll check on your dogs tomorrow.”

“That’s awfully presumptuous of you.” He called after her as she moved through the crowd of people for another drink. “And I’m already paying people to do that!”

1:38am

Stumbling into the bedroom, he toed his shoes off and dropped his jacket on the floor before flopping face-first, ass-up onto the bed. Johnny had taken Felony outside, and between the booze and his weird-ass pre-show sleep schedule, he was fucking exhausted. Blindly he reached out for Johnny’s pillow and buried his face into the fabric, inhaling the familiar and comforting scent. He was halfway asleep when the bed dipped and there were hands on his hips. 

“Take your pants off before you fall asleep, Briel.” He was being manhandled onto his back, and if it was anyone else, Gabe probably would have fought them on it, but it was Johnny and he trusted him. Johnny straddled his legs and unbuttoned his pants for him as Gabe laid there, watching him. “Really? You’re not going to help me at all?”

Gabe shook his head, sliding his hands to Johnny’s ass and pulling him down on top of him. “Uh uh.” He said, hugging his ex to him, nuzzling at his neck. “Shouldn’t have drank so much. Wasted a good opportunity.” He slid his hands under the back of Johnny’s shirt to pull him closer to him.

“This isn’t the last time you’re sleeping here.” Johnny said with a laugh before freezing and pulling back to look at Gabe. “It isn’t, right?”

Gabe rolled them over so he was straddling Johnny’s stomach. “Not even close to the last time.” He murmured out before kissing him. 

They were both too buzzed for it to lead anywhere else, but if there was one thing Gabe had always liked, it was kissing Johnny.

4:45am 

“Briel.” The bed dipped and Felony yelped from where she had been curled up next to Gabe’s hip as he slept. She jumped off the bed at the intrusion and wandered out of the room. 

“The rabbits have escaped the compound, babe. I need to find them.” He mumbled out, trying to stay asleep. “I can’t go to school yet.”

Laughing, Johnny pushed him into a sitting position, despite Gabe’s groans of protest. “Wake up.” He slid behind Gabe, leaning against the headboard and pulling Gabe against his chest. Kissing the side of Gabe’s jaw, he smacked his thigh with a newspaper. “I have today’s Times.” 

Now Gabe was awake. “I don’t want to read it.” He whined out, burying his face against Johnny’s chest. “I don’t want to know what he thinks of the show. He hated it. I’m sure he hated it.”

Ignoring him, Johnny flipped through the paper until he found the section he was looking for, and then pulled Arts and Design out so both he and Gabe could see the article. “It’s tradition.” He said, which was why he had a paper copy and not a digital copy. “Now shush and let me read to you.”

Unable to look at the page himself, he closed his eyes and let Johnny read the article to him. “The Duality of Reflection: GRT Gallery reopens with the hottest show in town.” Johnny nudged him. “That doesn’t sound bad so far.”

Gabe groaned, and opened his eyes. “Keep reading.” He whined out.

“There’s a sense of quiet upon walking into the GRT Gallery. The gallery has been sectioned off into four main rooms, which is Gabriel James’ style - transporting the viewer into the dreamscape that is his mind. The lighting is low lit, forcing calm over anyone who enters the gallery.

“The first room is nothing but a white wall with a series of mirrors mounted onto it. The mirrors set the stage for the other rooms in the show. It’s at this point where the guest gets to choose their own path. If they venture off to the left, they find themselves in a Russian themed room. Despite the harsh white lighting in the room, James’ signature style is more than evident in each piece, including his habit of sprinkling vulgarity and crudeness into his pieces.”

“Ugh.” Gabe rolled his eyes. “Ever since the penis tree, suddenly my style is vulgar.” He whined out.

Johnny laughed, the sound and motion making Gabe’s body vibrate. “Briel, you have a painting in this show that make it look like people are rounding third.” He pointed out, and Gabe didn’t have to turn around to know that the other man was smirking at him. “Anyway, where was I?”

“I have a vulgar style.” Gabe prompted, settling back against his ex again.

There was a kiss pressed against his shoulder before the reading continued. “According to James,” there was a nudge at his side as though to point out that the critic was now quoting him. “‘I was in a strange state of mind after moving back home from an extended stay in Russia. There was something cold about living there, and I’m not just talking about the snow.’”

Johnny laughed. “How drunk were you when they finally found you?” He asked, the paper shaking in his hands.

Gabe flipped him off. “Do I need to take over reading or are you going to do it?” He asked, half-turning his head to look at Johnny.

“If the guest goes to the right, they find themselves in a blue-themed room. Everything is soft and cast in shades of light blue. In spite of the soft colors, it’s very obvious that this room represents masculinity. The pieces in this room all have a theme, the jewel of this room being the overly textured Ocean Dreams.”

The sound that escaped Gabe’s mouth wasn’t entirely human. “Overly textured???? It’s just the right amount of fucking texture.” He hissed out, but Johnny ignored him and kept on reading.

“The pieces in the main room are the reasons for coming to see Reflections. ‘The middle room is the equivalent to my soul.’ James said in explanation to why the most striking pieces are the ones tucked away in the middle of the show. ‘These pieces are the most personal pieces I’ve ever created. As much as I overshare when it comes to my personal life, I like to keep some emotions bottled up and hidden. I finally came to a point in my life where I realized how stupid that was. I’m not ashamed of how I feel, and I need to share my feelings with the world.’”

Johnny stopped reading for a moment, and Gabe turned his head up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Keep reading.” He breathed out. “I need to know what he thinks of the other pieces.”

“The latest installation in the Mythology of Muse series is by far James’ best work in the series. The only other piece in the series that features a portrayal of James himself is Apollo & Artemis. James has said in interviews before that he doesn’t like including himself in his art so when he does, the pieces carry a deeper meaning than the ones without him in it. There’s a sense of awe that comes from seeing an artist included in their art - especially an artist like Gabriel James.”

Gabe closed his eyes, not wanting to see the paper any more. “I don’t want to know what he thinks about String of Fate. You liked it; that’s enough. I don’t need to know.” He said, almost nonsensically. 

Another kiss on his shoulder. “Yes, you do.” Johnny said before straightening the paper out again. “If you need one reason to see Reflections, go only to see String of Fate. Though all the pieces in Reflections are well-thought out and beautiful in their own right, String of Fate is James’ masterpiece. When art historians talk about James in the future, String of Fate will be the piece most associated with James. This will be the piece art students study.”

He couldn’t breathe. His eyes were open again, and somehow Gabe’s hands were clinging to Johnny’s arms. When had he even grabbed his arms?

“Reflections will be on display through the end of March at the GRT Gallery. Can’t make it before April? Don’t worry. String of Fate and Hades & Persephone will be on display at the Metropolitan Museum of Art where Gabriel James will be the artist in residence throughout the summer season.”

Johnny hit Gabriel with the paper. “You didn’t tell me you were going to be at the MET this summer!” He accused.

Shaking his head, Gabe turned his head to look at Johnny. “I didn’t know.” He breathed out, looking at him in complete surprise. “Pants!” He scrambled out of the bed. “Where are my pants at?”

“The hamper.” His ex told him, before flushing as he realized what a married thing that had been to do. Gabe didn’t live there any more, but it seemed like Johnny had forgotten when he’d tossed both their pants in there. The simple gesture shouldn’t have made a grin appear on Gabe’s features, but it did none-the-less. “But I put your phone and wallet on the dresser where you usually, uh, used to put it.”

With shaking hands, Gabe unlocked his phone and scrolled through his texts, looking for the one from his agent, Sully. It felt like the air had been punched out of him as he read the text out loud. “Congratulations, G! We’ve gotten more than a dozen offers on your pieces, and a few museums that would like to purchase the rights to Ocean Dreams and Iced Out for both display purposes and to print reprints for sale. We also received a generous offer from the MET for Artist in Residence. I know how you feel about the MET and your relationship with them so I told them yes, pending a contract review. I know you’re probably celebrating so I’ll call you on Monday. Congrats, again!”

He set the phone back down on the dresser and in a daze walked back over to the bed. “I… they… I…” Once again he was experiencing sensory overload. Not knowing how to form words, he instead crawled onto Johnny’s lap, straddling his thighs. Only knowing one way to express the sheer amount of emotions that were washing over him right now, he pressed his lips against Johnny’s, kissing him as hard as he could until he couldn’t breathe any more. Then he buried his face into the crook of his neck as he struggled to catch his breath. And was he crying? Fuck, he was crying. 

“I told you they were going to love it.” His ex-husband soothed, his hands trailing gently up and down Gabe’s back. “Not as much as I did, but I told you they were going to love it.”

He nodded against the other man’s neck, still unable to talk. Maybe it was the sheer amount of emotions put into the show, or from the stress of reading the review, or the lack of normal sleep he’d gotten over the past couple of days, but within minutes he was asleep, still clinging to his ex-husband like he was the only thing keeping him anchored to the world. And maybe in this current moment in time, he was.

[master-sass-blast]

Painting Pandemonium

Alright, I know this should’ve been part two of “Out With the Old, In With the New,” but I had a bad few days and needed fluff. Part Two of last week’s fic will be up next week, barring any other mishaps.

Summary: You and Piotr host a Bob Ross painting party for your family and friends.

Rating: G for domestic fluff and found family stuff.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Ellie Phimister x Yukio, Kitty Pryde x Illyana Rasputin (alluded to), and Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin.

Set after “Future: Realized.”

Sidenote: I’m thinking about doing a dedicated arc to Alexandra. She’s got an entire fleshed out backstory for the series, and I love her so much and would love to feature her more. Would any of you be interested in that/some Alexandra-centric fics? Let me know via DMs or asks; Tumblr changed the notifications system and made it too hard to keep up with reblogs.

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @nebulous-leo

It begins one sunny, early Spring day, when you’re watching your husband work on his latest painting (one of two hands holding each other, each smeared with the colors of the lesbian, gay, and asexual pride flags) in his art studio.

“Have you ever heard of Bob Ross?”

“Da.” Piotr dabs some more magenta paint on the wrist of the left hand, then looks over at you and smiles. “I watched tutorials to learn English. Why ask?”

“Eh, just wondering,” you say, curling up in the cushy arm chair Piotr keeps in his studio –he says it’s so he has somewhere comfortable to sit when he’s thinking, but it’s as much for you as it is for him. “Wasn’t sure if he’d made it over into Russia’s cultural bubble or not.”

“Ah, that, not so much.” He takes a step back from his easel, eyeing the canvas with no small amount of scrutiny, undoubtedly weighing out whether the distributions of the colors on the two hands–the rainbow amalgam for the gay pride flag where the fingers interlock, and the lesbian and asexual pride flag colors on the separate, untouching parts of the hands and wrists—are up to his incredibly high standards. “Matushka found some for me to watch on tape when I started painting, but I earnest watched when I came to America.” He quirks his mouth to the side, then looks at you and jerks his head at the canvas. “Mysli?”

“Needs more yellow and green,” you declare after a moment of studying the painting. “Otherwise it’s a lot of warm tones and purple-y tones, and that just makes my eyes start glazing without something to liven it up.”

Piotr nods with a grunt of agreement, then adds more yellow and green paint to his palette.

***

 It continues a few weeks later, when the two of you are buying groceries.

“Hey, have you heard about those ‘Bob Ross painting parties?’” you blurt when you two pass the arts and crafts section of the store. When Piotr gives you a blank look, you elaborate. “You know, a bunch of people get together with a bunch of paint and canvases and shit and follow a Bob Ross tutorial while hanging out.”

Piotr blinks rapidly as he processes the concept, then smiles slowly and shakes his head. “I take it you have reason for bringing this up.”

“I mean…” You let your voice trail off, then look up at your husband with your patented ‘I’m-so-cute-you-can’t-resist-me-please-make-me-pancakes’ eyes. “We have a house. We have access to YouTube and Netflix –which are where the tutorials are. We have friends we like to hang out with.”

Piotr chuckles, then grins down at you. “Would you like to host ‘painting party,’ myshka?”

“Well, since you brought it up!” you chirp brightly, which only makes your husband laugh harder. “But yeah, I think it’d be fun! And we got paint right here!”

Piotr shakes his head –still smiling—as you gesture at the Crayola-stocked arts and crafts section, then ushers you away from the aisle. “We can host party, lyublyu –but we can get better paint than that.”

 ***

 It takes a few weeks of planning, gathering supplies, checking schedules, and inviting people –but finally, towards the end of April, it all comes together.

The kitchen counter is laden with snacks –chips, fruits and veggies, cookies, little sandwiches, and the like. The coffee table in front of the couch has canvases, tubes of paint, and jars of paintbrushes loaded on it. The TV that hangs over the fireplace is on and set up to play one of Bob Ross’s tutorials, once everyone’s ready.

Nearly everyone is already here. Kitty, Russell, Illyana, Ellie, and Yukio are milling around the kitchen, jabbering while they down various snacks. Mikhail and Neena are sitting on the couch, looking at something on Neena’s phone. Piotr and his mother, Alexandra, are talking about one of Piotr’s latest paintings, while Nikolai stands nearby quietly, only throwing in the occasional comment.

You grin when the doorbell rings multiple times in a row, then skip over to the front door and open it with a sunny grin. “Hey!”

Wade greets you with an enthusiastic bear hug. “Howdy yourself, pardner! Hope you saved some yellow paints for me; I’ve always found those ones to be the best tasting.”

You and Nate exchange a fondly annoyed eyeroll over Wade’s antics, in addition to a hug. “Glad you could make it, Dad.”

“Like we wouldn’t come.” He pats your shoulder, lips quirking into an amused grin. “Like he’d—” he nods at Wade “—let me skip out. He’s been talking about it nonstop for the past two weeks.”

 ***

 It takes no small amount of shuffling to get everyone situated so they can all see the screen. Kitty, Illyana, Russell, Ellie, and Yukio all cram onto the couch together (which Piotr drapes with towels beforehand), Neena, Nathan, Alex, and Nikolai take station behind the couch with barstools and easels, you and Piotr set up on either side of the couch, and Mikhail and Wade…

Well…

“This is fucking overkill,” Wade gripes as Piotr ushers him and his brother to an area he’d prepped by taping newspapers to the floors and walls before hanging plastic shower curtains over the walls and putting down one of his thick drop canvases over the newspapered floor.

“Language, Wade,” Piotr says. “And it is just small precaution.”

“Nebol'shaya predostorozhnost', moya zadnitsa,” Mikhail grumbles.

“You two are… most chaotic,” Piotr says, attempting to be diplomatic. “This will minimize clean up, at end.”

“Sounds like someone wants paint in his shoes,” Wade stage-whispers to Mikhail.

“Agreed,” Mikhail faux whispers back with a nod. “We wait until tutorial puts him to sleep, and then we put purple paint in shoes.”

“I was thinking red, but purple works, too.”

You laugh along with everyone else, then blow your husband a kiss when he sighs heavily and shakes his head. “Alright, are we all ready?”

 ***

 “Fu –freaking… why does he switch colors so much!”

“Relax, baby.” Yukio smiles at her frustrated girlfriend, then kisses her shoulder. “It’s just for fun.”

“Fun is playing Mariokart… or studying string theory,” Ellie growls through gritted teeth as she jabs at her canvas with a paintbrush. “Not… dab some stuff here and some other stuff there and making little blobs look like things.”

“Come on, Negasonic the Hedgehog!” Wade coos teasingly from where he’s swiping at his own canvas. “Think ‘happy little clouds’ and ‘happy little trees!’”

“Douchepool, I will jam this paint brush up your—”

“Language, NTW,” Piotr says warningly –though not without a good dose of fondness. “And, Wade, no harassment, please.”

“Harassment? Pretty sure your little protegee there was just threatening to harass my—”

“Wade.”

Kitty just laughs as she works on her own ‘mountain sunrise’ scene. “Relax, Ellie. There’s no right or wrong way to do it.”

“Incorrect,” Illyana retorts, brow deeply furrowed as she works on her own painting. “There is tutorial. That is right way.”

“Tutorial is only reference, to show distribution of colors and shades,” Piotr corrects his younger sister as he leans over to look at his mentee’s canvas. “You are loading brush too heavy, Ellie. Start with less, then add more if needed.”

“I think I am less ‘sunrise’ and more ‘disco rave,’” Nikolai chuckles as he peers down at his own canvas.

Neena lets out a ‘whoa’ when she looks over at Nick’s canvas, then laughs lightly. “It’s long distance art. Meant to be seen from far away.”

Nick laughs along with her. “At last, I have found niche.”

The corner of Alex’s mouth turns up in a smile, and she reaches out and pats her husband’s thigh with her free hand.

***

 Once you’re all done –which takes a lot of pausing and rewinding the tutorial video—you all set your respective canvases on the dining room table, then admire each other’s works.

Piotr’s, unsurprisingly, is the best. He’s the most experienced artist out of all of you, and very familiar with both the materials and Bob Ross’s work.

You wrap your arms around your husband’s waist and kiss his side. “Very nice work, honey.”

He wraps a strong, muscular arm around you and kisses the top of your head. “Spasibo, myshka.”

Alexandra’s is also a “top contender” (even though it’s not a contest, which means there really aren’t contenders, but whatever). It’s not as technically proficient as her son’s –none of yours are—but in balance, composition, and contrast, it’s one of the strongest.

The painter herself, though, regards her work with neutral indifference while everyone else ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ over it. “It’s alright. Average.”

You watch as Nikolai wraps his arms around his wife’s shoulders, murmuring something in her ear that you can’t make out –it’s likely in Russian, anyway, so it doesn’t make much of a difference—before kissing her temple.

Alex’s hand trembles as she places it on her husband’s arm. Just a little.

Before you can make anything of it, Kitty busts out laughing.

“That is amazing!” she guffaws as she studies Wade’s painting –which looks less like a ‘sunrise’ and more like…

Well, it’s somewhere between a ‘LSD trip realized’ and ‘inside of a rainbow.’

(Granted, they might just be the same thing.)

“Very Picasso,” Kitty adds, grinning and shaking her head.

Wade preens theatrically. “I always felt a calling the abstract.”

She moves to Nikolai’s next. “I actually really like this. I think the intensity of the sunrise colors really sets off the greens in the trees.”

Nikolai grins when Illyana translates for him, then does a little bow to Kitty. “Spasibo, tigrionok.”

You can’t help but smile as you watch everyone –the people you love so much—laugh and talk to each other and admire each other’s paintings. This is home.

 ***

 “You seem happy.”

You look up from admiring everyone’s paintings –night has long since fallen, and everyone’s headed back to their own places, but you and Piotr had offered to hold onto the paintings for a few days so they could dry. “Huh?”

“You are happy, lyublyu.” Piotr smiles softly as he watches you. “Glowing.”

You smile bashfully as you look up at him. “I mean… I am happy. We’re making a home.” Tears well up in your eyes, and you smile broader even as grief –well-papered over, but there all the same—rises in your chest. “And it’s so different from the one I grew up in. It’s warm and loving and friendly… and that makes me happy.”

Piotr smiles, melancholy tears shining in his eyes, then draws you into his arms and kisses the top of your head.

Yeah. This is home.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #nathan summers x wade wilson #cablepool #negasonic x yukio #kitty pryde x illyana rasputin #alexandra rasputin x nikolai rasputin #bob ross #painting #fluff fluff fluff #nothing but fluff #found family #x men fanfiction #deadpool fanfiction

[typewriterbot]

tale feathers

while their feathers are growing, guardian gets a visitor

Cayde had come to visit them.

Which wasn’t odd because Ikora and Zavala had come to see them too when they returned to the Tower, hiding their naked wings behind their cloak because the air was frigid and they didn’t have sleeves yet.

(Roksana had dug up a pair for them to wear when they had walked into the apartment, called it a team tradition because the sleeves were hers first and were used by all the humans and Awoken of the team as their wings grew.)

There was always someone with them, checking on their wings for feather growth and to keep them from scratching the rash on their back. Guardian hated that second part. The rash itched something awful.

Cayde took a small measure of pity on them at least. He didn’t scratch their back like they wanted him to, but he did the same trick Hemlock does and let Solar energy collect in his palm to soothe the ache.

“Lemme tell you some stuff Andal,” Cayde said.

Guardian raised a brow. Andal? The previous Hunter Vanguard, a jovial man who died tragically, and a mystery to Guardian. Oh, they might have worn the cloak of his killer, but they knew nothing of who the man was.  

They knew he was loved by many. Guardian always wanted to meet him, or at least see him, but Osiris would always steer them away from simulations that might hold the legendary Hunter without really saying why, and would ignore their silent huffs.

Carefully, Guardian placed their head on Cayde’s thigh, silently urging him on.

“Don’t look at me like that. I wouldn’t have brought him up if I wasn’t gonna talk about him,” Cayde scolded.

Their expression didn’t change.

Leaning against the wall, boots off, wings held loosely at his side, Cayde began to talk about his dearest friend.

“Andal was a good man, but you already know that. Pretty sure Hemlock and Ronin have talked about him.”

Guardian wanted to say no. Hemlock never mentioned Andal except for when he took them along to kill Taniks, and sometimes it seemed that Ronin decided that he had ever existed. Maybe Hemlock and Ronin talked about Andal to the rest of the team, but never to Guardian.

That didn’t bother them until Cayde said something. Typical. They held their tongue anyway.

“He had these sleek, black raven wings, made his cloak look like tail feathers when they were against his back. Always did like to pull at his cloak just to see him get riled up. Way less fun with Zavala though. A crack shot with just about any gun (til I came around of course), and knew how to play the Consensus like a fiddle.” Cayde had started to stroke Guardian’s spine, his leather gloves making enough friction to satisfy some of the urge to scratch. If he was going to reminisce then they would let him.

After all, how often did Cayde get to even mention Andal?

“I didn’t meet him until well after his wings came in and mine weren’t even around. Found me skulking around a Fallen camp with a rusty tire iron, don’t ask, you’re not getting that story.” He laughed when the excitement in their shoulders relaxed out of disappointment. “When my wings started growing, Andal would go out of his way to find metal that my Ghost could graft to the skeleton. Pretty sure it’s because of him that I have crow wings and not something else.” At that, the soft tinkling of shifting metal could be heard. “Probably didn’t want me to get something more colorful, but hey, I make these things work.”

Cayde wasn’t someone who sighed, but Guardian imagined the silence that followed had a very long, very deep, and very regretful sigh fill the air. They wrapped an arm around his thigh and squeezed. The hand on their back stilled between their wings for a second before starting again.

“He always had these wild ideas. Like the time he said in front of Zavala that I was Rasputin. At the time it wasn’t so funny, but looking back on it now, I can tell that he was trying to give some hope to Big Blue, you know? Osiris and Saint were his Vangaurd, and they worked pretty well together until Osiris was banished and Saint followed him. Not much he could’ve done about that.”

What could he do, indeed. Andal was a bridge between the new and old Vanguard, and that had to be an awful place to fill. Guardian almost pitied him, but a twist in their gut left them feeling like he would’ve hated that. He had a job and he did it well, and he trusted Cayde enough, more than enough, to take his place.

Another moment of silence passed.

“Andal would’ve liked you, Guardian,” Cayde said. “You’re good people. He always had an eye for good people.”

Guardian hugged his leg again, and whispered into the coarse fabric of his pants, “You’re good people too.”

Cayde chuckled, and continued stroking up and down their spine. He stayed for longer than either Zavala or Ikora, and only left when Apollo had poked his head into the room and switched places with the Vanguard.

“See you when you’re ready to get back out there Guardian,” Cayde said over his shoulder. He flapped a wing, giving them a silent goodbye, and Guardian, with their own fleshy wings, flapped back.

#scrap #destiny wing au #bara ocs #fireteam bara #can't believe i punned in a title god dangit

[gaarfielf]

my list of lupin movies ive watched for the sake of keeping track and making sure i dont rewatch some

Castle of Cagliostro (10)

favourite Lupin movie of all time. Fantastic art, cast, plot, everything.

Blood Seal: Eternal Mermaid (8.5)

Really good animation and really interesting plot. Another ‘Lupin has to babysit’ movie but it was treated in such a way that set it apart from other ones. He gives her a lot of good advice and overall I really enjoyed this one even if it’s kind of underrated.

Burning Memory - Tokyo Crisis (8.5)

Surprisingly good like I wasn’t expecting a 90′s Lupin movie to come for me like this but the animation is really solid and the movie itself was really funny. I also liked that Maria and Zenigata weren’t a thing like that cleared my pores.

The Bloodspray of Ishikawa Goemon (8)

The animation is fucking stellar but there were odd gaps in the movie that were really inactive. I liked the two subplots going on though like they were both interesting.

Bye Bye Lady Liberty (8)

The classic convoluted subplots worked well here tbh and the Goemon romance stuff was gunshot noise gunshot noise cash register noise. The animation had this weird glow to it but it was (almost) the 90s lol

Hemingway Papers (8)

They really got me with Goemon and Jigen going against each other and Lupin being in a relationship with someone aside from Fujiko (a relationship that was genuinely romantic) was actually pretty well done. That whole bit at the end with the karaoke machine? Amazing

Return the Treasure (7)

Another one that was really close to being perfect. The only loose ends was that the “treasure” wasn’t really explained very well (but i mean, the lead up to it was very good) and i could’ve done with more scenes with the whole gang (it seemed like there was a lot of times where it was lupin jigen and fujiko or lupin goemon and fujiko, but not enough of all of them together)

From Siberia With Love (7) 

The usual amount of humour and action from a Lupin III film and the art is pretty standard. Goemon got a few nice quotes in and Fujiko talked to a woman. Could’ve done without Rasputin but thats just me.

Elusiveness of the Fog (7)

Lupin offering Goemon to the princess was kinda funny and I actually really liked OG Mamo (not the short freak) being revitilized bc his episode in the original series was really entertaining. The history of where they were was a little wonky but I’ll give it to them this time.

Pilot Film (7)

That shit was wild i liked how jigen was introduced as the gunman and then beat the shit out of 3 police officers with his bare hands. also goemon i guess dedicates his life to killing lupin so thats fun, like he’s on zenigata’s side i guess. could’ve done with fujiko making an expression at any given time but yknow what? it was funny and it was only 12 minutes long

Another Page (7)

Surprisingly not that bad. To summarize the film as a whole I’d say: it could have been worse. The plot made sense which is more than i can say about most lupin movies and they stuck to two subplots that were both interesting and meshed pretty good by the end. And the two lady characters that got introduced didn’t betray anybody AND didn’t die.

Farewell to Nostradamus (6.5)

The animation was pretty good and I liked the whole ‘we gotta protect this kid’ thing but I always mix up this one and Bye Bye Liberty Crisis like this movie is it’s less interesting twin. Both of them have kids they need to protect but Bye Bye Liberty Crisis was just better. I feel like this one had a really good ending but aside from that the movie wasn’t that memorable for me.

Fuma Conspiracy (6.5)

i liked Goemon being in a relationship bc it was really sweet, i just wish there wouldve been a better balance of romance to plot. Also terrible voice actors but that just affected my enjoyment not really the plot or anything relevant.

Sweet Lost Night (6)

I like time shenanigans and my only two critiques are the inconsistent art quality and they seemed really hesitant to embrace time skipping. Like “he’s limited to twice before he becomes brain dead” was a little bit of a small window. If anything they missed out on a good opportunity for a classic lupin montage of him time skipping way too often. Maybe if they changed it to “you skip time every 12 hours, to every 6 hours, to every 3 hours, etc” until he stops existing?? like that seems more in line with a lupin plot not to mention a little more suspenseful.

Dead or Alive (6)

The new art style is kind of neat and didn’t really affect the personality of the characters like I thought it would. The plot itself was complicated and hard to follow but I mean, it wasn’t awful. Nothing I really hated and nothing I loved.

Jigen Daisuke’s Gravestone (6)

Handsome Jigen was cool but tcm i’m begging you to drink your Respect Women Juice. Also Goemon wasn’t in this one what the fuck was up with that. Lupin looked like a crispy toenail in the new art style but again the animation is gucci so I can’t really complain on that front.

Napoleon's Dictionary (6)

Reminded me a lot of Mamo except with more respect in women. Just kidding Fujiko was kind of a crapshoot in the end and the ending was more or less just. cut off?? like they crashed into the ocean after lupin ruined zenigatas marriage and the credits started rolling. it was weird bc it had a lot going but i guess they ran out of time for a proper ending?

Mystery of Mamo (6)

Respect Women Juice needed and also why was Goemon purple. The pros to this movie was the overall aesthetic being really attractive BUT the plot was sketchy and didn’t make a lot of sense. The only remarkable scene I remember is Jigen shooting the can by Lupin’s feet like I wish that emotion would’ve carried through the film and not ended there.

Red vs Green (5)

Really good animation, no fucking idea what happened in this film.

Walther P-38: Island of Assassins (5)

They missed an opportunity to be a little more psychological and the lady of the week dying was meh but I will say the plot stayed on course like they didnt try to do too much at once like they tend to do. I wish they would’ve delved more into lupin’s past with the doctor because that seemed kind of random but the more lethal, edgy plot was handled decently. I’ll probably forget this one in a week tbh.

Dragon of Doom (5)

I like learning more about Goemon but his girlfriend was really distracting and uneccessary. Like, if you want to introduce Goemon’s childhood friend sure its whatever but she only showed up to either threaten lupin or flirt with Goemon. And it was very obvious she was going to betray him so all her build up was pointless. I will say though, the plot was pretty cool which was surprising.

Voyage to Danger (4)

tcm I’m begging you to let Jigen talk to a woman and not have it be like ‘this is Jigens girlfriend now’. Sometimes women be talking and they aren’t thirsting for a man triple their age. It just be like that sometimes. Thats literally all I remember about this film.

First Contact (4)

I remember being excited for this like ‘oh wow their first ever meeting’ and i s2g this film was boring. And also a giant plothole. With no real redeeming qualities. I don’t even remember the animation being that good.

Columbus Files (4)

This film was at least funny bad but my hand to god I’d never watch it again. This is the first time I’ve ever watched a movie and had to watch the dub bc the sub was boring me to death. It was just... so bad... Especially when you’ve seen Wings of Death like this ain’t the Fujiko I know please leave.

Seven Days Rhapsody (3)

The comedy in this one was so weirdly incorporated and featured another really good ‘here’s Jigen’s dead girlfriend’ that i just could not care less about and then finished off with this what like 13 year old girl asking to be Lupin’s girlfriend? fuck outta here. The ONLY good part was Goemon slapping Lupin across the face.

Alcatraz Connection (2.5)

Really, really boring. The content wasn’t necessarily bad but they had 4 subplots going on that were equally uninteresting and some scenes went on for so so so long. It deadass took me 5 hours to watch this movie bc i kept pausing to do literally anything else. The art was unpleasant and by the time they got the treasure i didn’t really care anymore. Not to mention the plot was way too complicated and tin-foil hat for my liking.

Missed by a Dollar (2.5)

Made very little sense and in general was really annoying. Between Goemon being a born again Christian and the plot briefly derailing so Lupin could establish an oil company it was like can we pick something to focus on? By the end of the movie I was like wait when did they get the broach? What does the broach do again? And then he gives it to someone random and its like??

Gold of Babylon (2)

This one if the definition of being cursed and Pink Jacket deserved so much better than this nonsense. Like Lupin III isn’t known for its coherence, sure, but this movie had absolutely no structure. Upon finishing the film I was trying to remember anything that just happened and my brain refused. It kept the good cartoonish animation but god at what cost.

Angel Tactics (2)

TCM PLEASE DRINK YOUR RESPECT WOMEN JUICE. The art was just. Stunningly bad. Bad to the degree where about a minute thirty in I already regretted starting it. Not to mention the classic “we don’t actually wanna draw this part so we’re gonna jam cgi in here”. Also the most awkward use of “hey heres 3 women hey heres 3 men lets shove them together”.

Harimao’s Treasure (2)

nazis and transphobia which was extremely unfortunate considering the opening was actually one of the stronger ones I’ve seen from Lupin but immediately after the villain was introduced the quality of the film dropped about 90% and i wanted to die for the entire last half of the film. if they had changed the villain it would’ve solved 90 of their problems.

Twilight Gemini (2)

this was one of the only films in the entire lupin series where i was rooting for lupin to fucking perish. not only was goemon only in this film for 26 seconds, jigen was there for about 30 seconds and im not entirely sure if fujiko was there at all. not to be that guy but when they make lupin to be the most intolerable piece of shit in the world for this movie, don’t give him all the screen time. having to stare at this asshole for an hour and a half was exhausting.

Princess of the Breeze (2)

How a movie where Jigen has to carry a baby around in one of those funny baby-carriers turned out this fucking goddawful I have no explanation for. This movie was like an AU where all these other characters no one cares about happen to exist in the same universe as lupin. and when lupin does show up, i want him dead. Just horrifically boring and lazy art mixed with bad cgi. The only upside is that it isn’t Return of the Magician.

Return of the Magician (1)

I’m giving it a 1 on the principle that this wasn’t even a movie. It was a little less than an hour long and my god i’ve never seen a film so full of pad-time that if i can be so bold, there was more pad time than plot. What little plot they had made absolutely no sense and the art used cgi in the most bizarre and ugly ways. i’m pretty sure the credits played twice at the end. if there was a world record for lowest budget in a film, Return of the Magician would win hands down.

#i feel like im missing a lot

[kindofchaoticgood]

I Don’t Want to Hear a Thing, as the World Burns and Crashes

Warning for implied rape, abuse, mentions of wounds made by a knife, and panic attacks. Read with caution.

Claudine Frollo had never been sure if there was a God or not, and as she lay in the street with blood running down her legs in red rivulets, she found herself wondering again if God was watching down on her; as her father had always claimed.

God has forsaken me, if he ever was there at all.

She could feel the blood dripping out of the cut on her face, leaving a sticky trail in its wake. The boys hadn’t slashed her face deeply, but Claudine knew that the blood loss would eventually become fatal, especially because of the blood already trailing down her legs.

The thought didn’t scare her though, only filled her with a vague annoyance that the boys couldn’t even manage to kill her properly.

So much for being sons of the great Gaston. You couldn’t even manage to kill a little girl?

Dying didn’t scare Claudine. In fact, she rather welcomed it right now. Her father ranted about the burning pits of hell and eternal damnation and Father Rasputin preached in a warm voice about how heaven was closed off to them forever because of their sins, but Claudine had always had a strange fascination with fire and when she had told her mother, her mother had just laughed and told her that the sinners were far more fun.

I hope Mama won’t be too disappointed when she sees me again.

Blood had stopped running down her legs, but that meant the soreness and pain of her muscles were more prevalent now, so Claudine tilted her head back and stared at the faded stars and wished for death.

Maybe if I close my eyes for a little bit, I’ll just never wake up again.

Her eyes closed –

“What the fuck?”

The voice came through her ears as though she were underwater. Her eyes opened, and Big Murph was staring down at her, his face furious.

Claudine stared blankly up at him, not sure how to respond to the anger on his face. Why was Murph so angry? She didn’t like making people angry; that was usually when they started hitting her.

“Claud,” Murph said again, and then she realized that he had repeated her name several times now. “What happened to you?”

Her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, and her voice sounded strange to her ears when she said, “You don’t want to know.”

“Who did this to you?” Murph demanded in his gravelly voice, kneeling down next to her and examining her wound.

“Please don’t be mad Murph,” During the Anti-Hero Club sessions, Murph had been one of the only people that Claudine felt comfortable talking to on a regular basis. The thought of him being disappointed in her made her sad. “They told me it would be over faster if I didn’t struggle.”  

But now horror was battling the anger for dominance over his face, and Claudine felt guiltier than ever for all of the trouble she was causing.

“You don’t need to worry about it though, I think it’ll all be over soon—”

“Motherfucking son of a whore - Claud, I need you to stay calm alright?” The anger hadn’t faded from his face, but now there was grim determination as well. “I’m gonna try and get some of the blood off of you to see what the damage is, okay? Fucky fuck, Bonnie would be really useful right now—”

“Yo Murph!” A girl with flaming red hair and a ragged black dress ran up to them. “We need to go, that guy looks seriously pissed – Holy shit, what the fuck happened to her?”

“Shut up Marya,” Murph interrupted tersely, ripping apart the hem of his shirt and starting to clean the blood off of Claudine’s face. “Go to the Chip Shoppe and get Bonnie—”

“What the bloody hell is taking you two so long?” a voice threaded with a thick Scottish brogue demanded, footsteps coming towards them.

She caught a glimpse of black hair and blue eyes above her, and her stomach twisted, and then the low sneers of the Gaston twins were swirling in her ears while Anthony watched, his eyes like chips of ice in the dark.

The words spilled over her lips in a panicked, garbled mess. “Please go away, just go away, I’ve learned my lesson I promise, don’t do it again, oh God—”

“The fuck is going on?”

Claudine was trying to squirm away, but her legs were refusing to obey her commands and her throat was closing up and she was gasping for breath and why couldn’t she breathe, why, why –

“No, no, no – take deep breaths okay?” Murph looked at her, and then his face hardened. “Harry, step away from her.”

“What?”

“Just – go with Marya and find Bonnie or something. But right now, she’s really freaked out by you, and that’s not helping.”

With a frown, the blue-eyed boy jogged off with the flame-haired girl, disappearing into the foggy streets.

Claudine’s breathing eased, and Murph looked down at her, his face softening an iota. “Was the, the person that did this to you – fuck, I can’t speak – did they look like Harry?”

She licked her lips for lack of something else to do and tried to eke out the words from her mouth.

“Need you to speak a little louder, Claud,” Murph said, glancing at her in between swipes of the cloth.

With a little more effort, she found her voice. “Wasn’t just . . . one.”

Murph stopped dead, and when Claudine looked up at him, his face was terrible in its anger. But when he looked down at her, he schooled his features into a mask and continued to clean her face off.

“Where is she?” A girl with short black hair pushed back with a bandanna ran up to Murph, her arms full of supplies. “Marya said it was an emergency – and, oh fuck, she was right! Hi,” she said, kneeling down next to Claudine and pulling out a roll of bandages. “I’m Bonnie. Now, sweetie, I know we just met right now, but I’m going to need you to trust me, okay?”

Claudine looked up at Murph and he nodded, so she took a breath and said, “Okay,”

“Great,” Bonnie studied the cut on Claudine’s head. “The cut on your head doesn’t seem to be that deep – but it’s long enough to account for the steady bleeding. Murph, take some of the bandages and place pressure on the wound, and if it doesn’t stop bleeding, then we’ll just have to take her with us to the ship. Can you move your legs?”

“I – I don’t really know,” she admitted, feeling like an idiot. Why is it so hard to explain what’s going on?

Bonnie reached over to try and check the bruising on her thighs, but Claudine flinched so hard the bandages jerked across her temple, leaving fire in its wake.

“Steady,” Murph murmured, righting the bandages and placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry,” Claudine breathed out, casting an apologetic look at Bonnie.

“It’s fine, don’t worry. Let’s try again, okay?”

But when the same thing happened the second and third time, Bonnie gave up and checked the bandage on her head instead. “Fuck, there’s still blood coming out. We’re gonna need to go to the ship. It’s probably for the best though, ‘cause I didn’t bring any poppy tincture with me – I know the last thing you want to be is unconscious while strangers examine you, but I swear, I won’t let anyone in the room except for Murph if you want him there, and I wouldn’t be suggesting poppy if this wasn’t the only way to see the extent of the damage. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” she whispered, hating how small her voice was.

“Good. Murph, you take one arm and I’ll just take her other—”

“That’ll take too much time, besides, she’s too tall. I’ll just carry you, is that fine Claudine?”

“Claudine?” Bonnie repeated. She looked at Claudine, and recognition flashed over her face. “Do you want me to send someone to tell your dad—?”

Claudine winced and shook her head vehemently.

“Okay, no telling dad, I respect that. Is it okay if Murph carries you?”

Claudine nodded, and then Murph gently placed an arm under her legs and over her shoulders, hoisting her up into the air. The rush of cold air made Claudine dizzy, and stars twinkled in her vision.

“Gently!” Bonnie scolded, gathering her supplies and standing up.

“Sorry.”

They began walking down the street, Murph flashing glares at anyone who gave them more than a passing glance.

“Hopefully no one will be on the ship tonight,” Bonnie muttered as they took a right and headed towards the dock. “The less people there are, the better.”

Claudine closed her eyes for a second, she was just going to do it for a second –

“Claud!”

“We need to hurry,” Bonnie sped up, and then they were in front of a broken ship, and Claudine was pretty sure she was hallucinating now.

“Oh for fuck’s sake – is it National Bring Your Idiot to the Ship day or something? Get out of my way, you morons!”

Under Bonnie’s tirade of insults and Murph’s glare, the people on the ship scattered to the sides.

“Gil, I swear to Black Jesus, I will cut you the fuck down if you do not move right fucking now—”

“Christ, I’m moving, I’m moving!” A male voice said, panicked as Bonnie brushed past him.

“I’m gonna need to have a word with you later,” Murph growled at the boy as they passed him.

“I didn’t do it,” the boy said instantly. “Ask Uma, I was in the Chip Shoppe—”

“Not what you did,” Murph replied tensely, then followed Bonnie below deck.

The lower half of the ship was lit up with flickering lightbulbs, illuminating each wooden plank that made up the ship. Bonnie turned right, and then beckoned them into a room.

“Just set her down on that bed – oh look, already made up, thank Desiree for me later—”

Bonnie reached inside a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of poppy tincture.

“Just a small sip, we don’t want you unconscious for too long, okay?”

Claudine swallowed the poppy tincture, and instantly, her eyes seemed to become heavier. It wasn’t long before the darkness pulled her under, and then she couldn’t see anything at all.

#descendants 2 #disney descendants #dark descendants #claudine frollo #harry hook #gil descendants #gil son of gaston #gaston the second #gaston the third #anthony tremaine #big murph descendants #bonnie descendants #uma descendants #uma daughter of ursula #implied rape #rape aftermath #rape tw #abuse tw #implied abuse #rasputin #claude frollo #uma's crew

[kurtty-drabbles]

“I can’t drown my demons. They know how to swim.” (Any 'verse)

@augment-techs  @rachel-foley @djinmer4  @asakacc

N/A: In Brazil, we don´t celebrate Halloween, and I know little about the story of Halloween, therefore, the only thing I like about this international holiday is the spooky stories.That said, I receive a prompt and I want to fulfill it. Some weeks ago, I watched the remake of Rosemary´s Baby (only the part I) and it gives life to this idea.Yes, I´ll use aoa!Kitty Pryde and Kurt Darkholme. I don´t know much about this version of her, so I´m using more headcanon than anything.warning: rest easy this fic will be spooky but I´ll not cross any line here, no rape or anything like in Rosemary´s baby. This fic is more Dark humor(a poor attempt) than a gore festival.

Moving from a new job is a drastic change for some, now, change the job and country is an aggressive change that few have the stomach to endure it.

Thankfully, Kitty Pryde wasn´t tied up to her old place (nor physically or emotionally) and her boss was pretty adamant that she move out to Paris, France, saying how she is the only one for the job.

Normally, anyone would be thrilled to be in such famous, charming and stunning city, however, people tend to imagine a life in Paris in the most luxurious way possible and Kitty didn´t receive such treatment.

Her shabby and barely lit place is an indication that her job covers many fees and offers nothing in return. The only comfort in her precarious situation is a tiny dragon that loves to be on her shoulder, cuddle with Kitty and follow her around.

The only constant in her chaotic life is a tiny purple dragon name is Lockheed.

One of few perks of the job is how much of free time Kitty actually have, the woman with short curly hair, black leather jacket and a purple dragon on her shoulder explore a city that will never be her home.

Narrowing her eyes as trying to understand how the gothic aesthetic of Notre Dame came to be, what inspires the artist and thinking about Disney´s The hunchback of Notre Dame that didn´t notice a younger boy pick her purse and running from his life.“Hey, thief ” she goes after him, which proves to futile since a blonde girl already catches him and start to beat him up. The astonishing fact is that this tiny blonde Russian girl(she start to swear in Russian and Kitty understand what she was saying) didn´t even sweat over this.

She gets Kitty´s purse back and is smiling innocently as what just happened wasn´t big deal.

“Hi, my name is Illyana Rasputin,” says with a Russian accent and Kitty feels awkward to be able to chat with another human being.

“Hi, my name is Kitty Pryde and this is Lockheed”

“Hello, Lockheed”

Surprisingly, Yana the blonde Russian girl and Kitty forge a friendship which is something Kitty is not against, of course, Lockheed is Kitty´s BFF no one can take his title.

“Kitty,” Yana asked one day" do you like your apartment"

“Not really, but is what I can afford at moment”

Never once, Kitty asked more about Yana´s life, maybe, is out of respect since Yana is not asking too many questions about Kitty´s life either. It is nice.

How long will this friendship last? Kitty prefers to not dwell on this, Lockheed, however, will forever be Kitty´s BFF.

One day, Kitty´s shabby and poorly lit place gets on fire, in a mysterious way. Why mysterious? Lockheed swears for his life that he didn´t start the fire and Kitty completely believes him.

After all, the fire starts far away from where Lockheed was. And the fire starts by the widow quickly spreading to the building. Kitty, along with her tiny dragon, survives the fire along with her neighbors.

It was a luck, sadly, lady luck didn´t seem to like Kitty very much and the unsettling reality that Kitty is a homeless weight on her shoulders.

Kitty and Lockheed are in the hospital, brought by force, waiting for something and nothing at the same time. What can kitty do? Her employer is not a …kind man.

Suddenly, Yana appears in the hospital anxious way and her death glare meet any doctor who tried to stop her.

“Kitty, I came as soon I heard” she is worried sick for Kitty´s health and well being and that is touching “how are you and Lockheed doing?”

“We were marveling the idea of being French buns,” says the woman trying to light up the situation.

“You don´t have a place to stay?” wonder Yana but there´s akin of happiness in her eyes “because if that true, you can stay in my building, we have an empty apartment there that no one wants.”

Normally, she would say no.Her job requires focus and dedication but after lost her home, Kitty decides that she could accept the offer.

It would be fine until she saw how luxurious the place actually was and start having second thoughts. It makes even worse was the fact that Kitty has little to no possessions, a few boxes were enough. 4 little boxes along with an overly excited dragon.

The building is a mix of luxurious, stunning and macabre in one go, Yana seems very happy, Kitty is not sharing the sentiment, but, anything is better than be homeless.

“Welcome, Kitty Pryde, to the building Limbo,” says with a trademark smile and would say something else when her cell phone ring forcing begrudgingly to answer the phone.

After a few minutes, the girl frown and looks unhappy.

“Is everything alright?”

“No, I have to fix something, meaning I´ll have to leave now” clearly unhappy with this predicament “ But Kitty, promise something, don´t be afraid. Nothing will hurt you”

“Yana, I think is easier for me to hurt them then otherwise” the blonde girl crack a smile and shakes her head.

“Whatever you say, Kitty.” Kitty and Lockheed wanted to say something else to Yana, sadly, the girl disappears without leaving traits. No sound or word, she was just gone. And now, the girl is alone in a very fancy place.

“Ok, bye Snowflake,” say to no one “hope you come back safe and sound” complains and with the 4 boxes give a look at her new/temporary home.

“What to do now?” says feeling like a fish out of water. Lockheed probably would eat a fish right now.

“Need help?” a voice sly and with a definitely German accent asked behind Kitty forcing the woman to turn around to see who it is.

“Oh, Gaspard Ulliel?” exclaims Kitty in surprise and the Gaspard have a mock smile on his face as he shakes his head.

“My name is Kurt Darkholme,” says pleasantly albeit seem too sinister for a happy neighbor, but then again, when you look like the young Hannibal no need for Halloween costume.

“Mine is Kitty Pryde, Yana let me stay here” not that she need to justify for the creepy neighbor.

“Oh, then welcome, Yana did mention you are coming” tries to smile in a friendly way, the result was enough to make Kitty never want to see Hannibal ever again.

“She did? great, I guess”

“Do you want help?” gesture the boxes and the new apartment, incredibly luxurious and big, excessively big. She is not stupid enough to let the stranger enter, but having watched Hannibal taught her that it would be rude to turn down the offer.

And then again, Kitty is Kitty and Lockheed has her back, so the new guy is not really a threat, but is unsettling.

“Sure, Mister Darkholme, you can put the boxes on the"she trailed off looking at the apartment and the dining room” in the fanciest dinner room I´ve ever seen"

The man complies smiling in the same way Hannibal did, Kitty couldn´t let that pass.

“ By the way, the tiny dragon on my shoulder is real,” says as a matter of fact crossing her arms and looking deep at the new neighbor. Who, for his part, doesn´t seem to be scared at all.

“Of course it is real, what´s the point in having a fake dragon?” says his pose indicates he wants to say something else “ do you know the history of this building?”

“Not really, a fancy French building for rich people that definitely went bankrupt allowing someone like me to live here, even though, they would be very cross with this, but who gives a shit?”

“You are spunky,” says messing with his hair “I like this answer” and leave the apartment without causing any problem or eat Kitty, but leave this advice “Oh, Kitty, if strange things happen, don´t be afraid”

Kitty was opening one of the boxes when Kurt said that. Diligent in the task, once Kurt gave this advice, Kitty stops her work to talk with Kurt but the man was gone.

“That is…not normal, right Lockheed?” the dragon doesn´t seem to care for this and was more than happy to destroy the box and make a fine nest for himself.

Kitty´s job remains the same and her routine didn´t change much, walk around with Lockheed, doing her job and return home.

She didn´t have much trickery, the lots of her possession are usually in the dining room. She is a very organized person, and hardly ever change the organization.

That´s why after returning from a nice walk with Lockheed, it is odd that her dining room is a mess, no, actually the organization is different.

The painting of a farm is on the left wall, instead of the right, the curtains are closed, usually, they are always open, the chairs are crowed in the center of the room when normally is on the left side.

“What?” this isn´t the first or the last time something like that happen, Kitty would organize the dining room in a way to the next day be completely changed.

“The fuck?” says not liking this prank. But considering how little she will stay here, this ending up not being a real issue. Her neighbor, Kurt, once found out about this incident suggested it may be a ghost.

“This building was Eleanor Garden, she was murder here”

“And what? her ghost leaves heaven or hell to mess with my dining room? ok, whatever floats her boat”

Then, something happens, the walls start having a message for her, in Latin.

“Stupid ghost, trying to scare me with a dead language” and show her tongue to the wall.

The next day, the wall has a message written in English.

“Oh my god,” she says in pure horror"Lockheed, my dear friend, don´t look at this monstrosity, there´s so many grammar errors here “ Lockheed cover his eyes and Kitty show the Star of Davi to the message.

"Ghost, there´s too many grammar errors here, is offensive, try again”

On the next day, the ghost draws an unhappy face.

“Ghost, you are going to clean this”

One day, all her TV channels are only Fox content and this makes her go pale and unhinged for a moment.

“Now, as the news arrives President Trump is the new president of US and will now give a speech”

“Ghost, please, you can have my tv now”

The next day, the TV is gone and Kitty is a relief and lost her faith in humanity.

On the weekend, Kitty brought beer for herself, French beer, of course, it was offered the German one but the woman wanted to try the French.

She never had the chance as the ghost ending up snatching her beer and then write something on the wall, the English improving now, the beer sucks bring a German one, those are better.

“Ok, ghost, I´m tired of this, came out now” growls as Lockheed fly around. “Ghost, I´m going count until 3 and if you don´t appear…”

“What menace threat, Kitty” what she can register in this moment, a blue fur devil appear, with red eyes, tail(he was on the ceiling)  and leather outfit appear in her dining room smirking at her. A slashy version of a smile.

“Oh, you aren´t a ghost, anyway, this isn´t a hotel is my house, so if you want German beer you will get yourself”

“…that´s not the reaction I was expecting”

“What were you expecting? Would I scream and run in my panties? sorry, this is real life, not a movie” she pauses to think about what she just said as Lockheed is back again on her shoulder.

“…you do realize this is a building for demons, right?”

“…Yana forget to mention this”

Yana did come back from her job/mission with a big sword cover in blood to meet Kurt Darkholme and Kitty Pryde talking about the difference between German beer and French one.

Once that Yana come back many things were said, mostly about Demons and beers, the pranks stop and Kitty is somehow forced to bring only German beer and Yana likes to explain about magic and demons. Life is chaotic but truth be told, is not lonely anymore.

#kurt darkholme #kitty pryde #aoa!kurtty #yana #yes #lockheed #kitty´s job is the msytery here #first time writing yana #no idea if I did justice to her #but I can´t see Kurt D inviting anyone ever #Beside I know Kitty does not have many friends #fuck you marvel #so #I wanted to use Yana here #not really scary #it was more dark comedy #or tries to be #Ilyana rasputine