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deanbrainrotwritings · 4 months

Text

— CELEBRATION DAY

SUMMARY : cowboy Dean, that’s it! yeah, yeah, I’ve got a thing.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), blowjob (mentioned), handjob, unprotected p in v, angst, fluff

WORD COUNT : 5.9k

A/N : led zeppelin song title. omg, I wanna thank my big brothers for watching Supernatural when I was little. I never woulda met Dean’s gorgeous, galaxy freckled face, green-eyed sparkle sparkle, majestic body, honey hair, smirky, pillow lip prince—what was I saying? oh yeah, I love Dean, happy birthday to the man I’ve loved the longest 💗

Dean didn’t think the whole month of January could get any better.

Everyday Y/n left a gift for him somewhere around the bunker for him to find. It was like the Twelve Days of Christmas song, but so much better.

He was really pretty sure she was stealing most of them.

On the first day, a pin up style calendar, but instead of random women, it was her and all his favourite kinks and fetishes. If he could, he’d say he loved her in every language that exists. It’s the only way for him to show that he truly means it. At least he thinks so.

On the second day, he received seven different types of necklaces that she thought he’d look prettiest in, but one stood out. One that he’d offhandedly shown interest in when they were window shopping to walk off the effects of caffeine in her system. The love letter smelled of coffee and recounted the feelings she had watching him be so domestic.

On the third day, she gave him a Street Fighter arcade game perfect for his Dean Cave. He swore he’d beat her, but he didn’t have the heart to do so, and let her KO him (she already knew what he was doing).

On the fourth day, she got him a new, stainless steel watch. She attached a small love letter addressed to him, the last words were spoken by the Doctor: You waited long enough. Time and time again, with her by his side, he yearned for normalcy, a family, getting out. For some reason, an object that measured time symbolised their endless love, a promise that made him breathless.

On the fifth day, he was given seven different rings. The letter for this gift said something along the lines of: I need to practise proposing. And you didn’t say no, so this is going great. He chuckled at that. He’d never say no to her, especially not to marriage.

On the sixth, she gave him a porn magazine, starring : her. He found it in the library when she sent him to pick up a book for her. A magazine like one belonging to Playboy that drove him crazy every day that he remembered what was in it. And that tiny love letter she put inside… He hoped no one would put their hands on that one. It was for his eyes only.

On the seventh, a black 1962 corvette that she put together with the help of her older brother. To say Dean was impressed was an understatement, despite all those times he taught her how to put the Impala back together, he was both turned on and fascinated with her work. And obviously they, uh, christened it. Or whatever.

On the eighth, she surprised him with twelve books he’d intended to read for such a long time, but never got around to searching for them. Shane; Whiskey When We’re Dry; Lonesome Dove; Blood Meridian. Were some of the titles he recognised and he was more than thrilled to dive into them and relax completely as reality faded around him.

On the ninth, she gifted him a new cowboy outfit. She put that in the room where he kept all the costumes he wore. The material was more original, with amazing quality—aka, not cheap. A whole bunch of Hecho en Mexico tags that he’d ask her to read to him—in Spanish of course. For reasons. (And that love letter he found in the inner pocket also needed to be read in Spanish, too.)

On the tenth, he got to open a giant box of Scooby snacks. Here and there, there were a few of his other favourite snacks, but there were mostly Scooby snacks that he’d been munching on ever since.

The eleventh, the gift he received were seven different bracelets. According to the love letter, they were gifts to keep him bound to her only.

The twelfth, a brand new espresso machine. That was simply found by him in the kitchen, new, with an olive-green bow and a small lover letter. All that yummy coffee he gets to consume in the morning with her, trying it out together. Two coffee addicts in love. Nothing better.

The thirteenth, the gift was going to an amuent park together. They ate too many foods, went on all—if not most—of the rides, took a hundred photos, tried on the silly clothes, played the games—mini-golf, go-carts… He was exhausted as soon as they got inside the Impala. So, it was a last minute decision to stay at a nearby hotel for the night. It was the best sleep he had in ages.

The fourteenth, a large journal in multitudes of journaling styles detailing things she loved about him that particular day or something he did that made her smile. It was cheesy, but very beautiful. The care and attention to detail made Dean’s heart lurch in his chest. From the cute bullet journal style, to the more than accurate drawings of him, and sophisticated details about things he didn’t know about himself, his habits, or other things he did. It was a collection of her love for him, which somehow made any fears evaporate like steam in a shower.

The fifteenth, forty-five new sets of socks with cute and/or funny prints. And she was prepared with a new drawer for all of them to fit, rolled up perfectly like… well, whatever delicious meal she had planned just as he liked. Enchiladas. Yummy. And a new love letter shoved inside a sock to make him blush and smile boyishly.

For the sixteenth day, it was four cassette mixtapes of all the songs they listened to when they went on some of their most meaningful dates and that played in the most memorable, intimate moments of their lives. Now it made sense why she was thrilled to learn and watch him prepare the mixtape he made for Cas. (It was better afterwards when his skills and patience were more than noticed by her and she—anyway, it was hot sex.) As for the love letter, it was profoundly clear that she wanted to praise and show she recognised his expertise, intelligence, and skill (not that she hasn’t praised him for it before).

For the seventeenth day, he got a Katana. He didn’t need it, he didn’t even know he wanted it until he held it in his hands and unsheathed it. God, that was awesome. Of course he’d probably almost accidentally hurt himself playing around with it, using it unnecessarily in the kitchen—just as an example.

For the eighteenth day, a sex position book with over 300 sex positions to try. It almost offended him, but after looking through a few pages, he was convinced that she was right and they needed to try some of the kinkier positions.

For the nineteenth day, she handed him a lengthy collection of mint condition Batman comic books. He was so not cool about that, gushing and grinning, holding her tightly until she pushed him away to breathe properly.

For the twentieth day, he received some new vinyl records of his favourite songs from his favourite bands to nearly complete his collection of music. And as always, he found a love letter relating to the gift she gave to him where she’d ‘hid’ the vinyls above his desk.

For the twenty-first: an old photo album filled with photos he’d never seen from his childhood and up to last year. Some he never even remembered living, but they did skip a few memories that made him smile sadly. She confessed she got Cas to take her back into the past to sneakily take pictures of him and everything he lived through. It was oddly… endearing. Then, she gave him an empty photo album, only their New Year’s kiss was placed inside a protective, plastic pocket. Ready to be filled by him, this time around.

For the twenty-second, a custom made Batman costume. The story for this one was that she made a deal with one of Charlie’s old LARPing friends: if she got rid of a ghost in his house, he’d make her the costume. And after that, she got one of the Dean’s from another universe to act as the model for the measurements Charlie’s old friend took to make the costume fit him perfectly. There were a few ideas Dean had regarding that costume, and he’s more than a hundred percent sure Y/n’s been thinking the same thing ever since he tried it on.

For the twenty-third, a twelve month pie subscription, obviously on National Pie Day. And he got to try the first one that day, rhubarb pie that made his mouth water as soon as the sticky insides made contact with his taste buds. How many times does he have to say he’s lucky in his mind?

And today, he had yet to find out.

He was spoiled.

Lavishing in her love for the past twenty-four days—more so than usual, soaking in it like the waffles he drowned in syrup for breakfast in the morning.

Right after his birthday blowjob as soon as he woke up.

He ate those soft, perfectly crunchy, warm waffles in bed while basking in the golden afterglow of his orgasm. Breathless and dazed, he didn’t worry about a single thing as he moved from one waffle to the next, eating his favourite fruits, jams, chocolate chips, maple syrup, honey… all the things she knew he loved indecisively.

And while she licked her lips clean of his cum, he licked his lips clean of whipped cream.

God, he was lucky.

She was awesome. More than awesome.

There were no words he could find to describe her.

The only problem with today was that he wasn’t gonna be the centre of just her attention. He could deal with that. He loved it, in fact. What he did not love was having to be the centre of attention with all his friends and family around.

He just felt… maybe… shy. Embarrassed? Old?

He wasn’t used to it. Not to that kind of attention from his friends, anyway. As much as they loved him and as much as he loved them. It was different. New.

He was anxious about it.

It was usually a phone call, a text, or nothing. He was fine with that. He didn’t really care. He was always hunting before. They were always busy with their hunts or their lives and birthday were always… whatever.

He was used to Y/n. To the way she loved him. Worshipped him, even. Daily. It was almost the same as any other day, except for the gifts—which were grand, more… thoughtful and loving. As if she lived in his brain and heart, digging through his wishes and dreams to find the perfect gift to make him feel special. Something that lasted, something to be used, something to be loved by him.

He was used to Sam. To the occasional, remorseless thieving of his little brother to get him what he thought he’d like. The singular, impactful gifts or the silly-joke gift he gave first to trick him into thinking it was something meaningless, thoughtless. The pat in the back, the hug, the pie, the childish decoration, the alcohol… a typical sibling birthday party meant to be laughed at.

He was getting used to Cas. To the overuse of emoticons in the birthday text. The awkwardness in the hug before it settled and became comfortable to do. The thoughtful gift he recieved, something Dean mentioned whenever they hung out—even if it was ridiculous. Cas could get it. He’s an angel. And the best friend Dean could ever ask for.

Jack… was, well, he’s Jack. He tried to copy Cas, Sam, Y/n. A mixture of all of the things they did, taking notes of what they were up to, finding something that was… him and not all of them. Dean’s heart softened and he cut Jack some slack, appreciating the effort, the thought he put into it, even if sometimes it was… bad.

But now, some of his closest friends would be making their way to him and he was just not prepared for all of that.

What he was prepared for, was his girlfriend’s skillful ability to make a larger-than-necessary Rice Krispies Treat cake just for him. She liked it as much as he did now, replacing the traditional birthday cake—she wasn’t much of a cake fan. But his stomach’s heart did love those tres-leches cakes.

Dean got dressed up as a cowboy as soon as Sam left to help Eileen prepare for the mini birthday party. He knew it did things to Y/n, even if she refused to admit it to him every time he brought it up or teased her about it.

He tried to cling to her the whole day.

He failed.

She was up to secret stuff.

He only got to be in her presence when she cooked or as she decorated the library where they’d later be embarrassing him with their loving attention. He helped her with all of that, of course—despite her protests. He’d hold her for a few minutes, kiss her a little bit, and then he’d follow behind her as if he couldn’t find anything better to do himself.

He watched her pull out game after game, after game, and set it down on different tables. Cards Against Humanity. Loteria. UNO. Bingo. A few other classics, some from his childhood. And she was texting Sam the whole time for the location of each game, where to set it, agreeing on some and putting others away.

Dean didn’t mind. As long as there was something that took most of the attention away from him and towards something else.

He played with the die from one of the games as he followed her around. His eyes traced over colourful candles, little horns to blow funny sounds out of, balloons, string, paper, confetti, banners, funny hats and glasses, and a dozen other items and decorations that made him feel like a kid again.

Dean liked to watch her, and she liked watching his reaction to whatever she pulled out of the plastic bags he remembered watching Sam and Jack coming in with a few days ago.

Dean was happy once she was done and finally resting from all the planning and tasks she was completing. She’d play with the buttons on his suit jacket by buttoning and unbuttoning them boredly as she took a break before heading off to the next activity.

After she made the cake, she made extra for both of them to snack on—even though she’d also given him a piece before she prepared the Rice Krispies treat. The two of them waited for their friends to get to the Bunker and ate the small slice while watching a random movie on the television.

Dean started to wonder what his brother would be getting him. Or Cas. Jack. Claire. Jody. Donna. Oh. He wanted to be sucked up into the couch, no, into Y/n’s soul. Just the thought of receiving a gift from everyone other than the people who currently lived in the Bunker made him flustered and embarrassed.

He had no doubts the gifts would be good. Still, there was something about gifts and birthday parties that made him… uncomfortable. As much as he loved each and every single one of them, as much as he secretly adored being loved.. it felt like asking too much, even if this was all their idea.

Even though he would do this and so much more for them.

Dean didn’t know they were up to this until last week when Sam randomly brought it up. Y/n jumped on board immediately, then Jack did, and Cas. Jack and Cas were in charge of buying the snacks, which Dean appreciated because Sam tended to get distracted and would forget to buy some of the most important items—according to Dean, of course. The pie, being the main item.

Dean realised that neither he nor she were really paying attention to the movie. Their plates laid abandoned on the table next to the green leather couch they sat on. The cowboy hat was abandoned on Dean’s bed. She was tucked into the corner with one leg propped up in it with the other dangling over the edge. Dean settled on his back in between her legs with his head on her shoulder.

That was just the first step in seducing her.

He wondered if he’d get more lottery tickets from everyone. If they’d bring some of the funniest, endearing birthday cards where they had to change the main title to for his age because he had the taste of a kid. He hoped they wouldn’t do something illegal like he knew Y/n and Sam were doing to make this the best birthday party for him. (Though, Dean was generally feeling pretty smug about their naughtiness.)

He wouldn’t mind repeated gifts at all, as in… if Claire wanted to go mini-golfing with him and gave him another ticket… or if Jack simply wanted to try fishing with him again. He’d love that. To spend time with them. The people he cared most about.

He played with her slim fingers, traced her knuckles, and teased the soft skin of her arms with his fingertips when she slipped them around his waist. He lifted her hands up to his lips, worshipping one thoroughly with his lips, warming them up for her.

Her other hand rested over his chest where his heart was beating rapidly at the thought of what he wanted. Her hand laid still for a few seconds before she began to play with the buttons of his white dress shirt, then tapped her mossy-green nails against the ovaloid metal buckle of his belt.

He dropped her hand gingerly to let her play with his clothes using both of her hands and he took to tracing her legs with his fingers over thick, warm pyjamas. He could feel her body release the tension of her stress, and for a moment, he smiled softly and felt his body do the same thing.

When he turned to look at her, she glanced away from his chest where she was gently scratching his shirt to make the funny sound of cloth being scraped. He kissed her when she smiled at him, one small peck, not entirely innocent.

The movie was long forgotten soon after that. Not that they were paying attention to it before anyway.

Dean scooted up slightly to kiss her properly with one hand on her jaw, his fingers entwined through her soft hair, bringing her plush lips closer to his. It was unhurried, lazy, the slow build from firm, deep kisses, to demanding, heated ones that caused a blush to flare up their faces.

Breathlessly, she began unbuttoning his shirt while he unbuckled his belt, but they continued kissing. His tongue slipped between her sweet lips, tasting more sweetness from the marshmallow and rice treat they ate not long ago.

She brought the white t-shirt up his chest—excruciatingly slow—when she fully unbuttoned his dress shirt. Her fingertips slipped up the soft flesh of his tummy, his toned and freckled chest, then she flattened her palm over his rapidly thudding heart. Leisurely, she smoothed her hand down his soft, slightly scarred skin, brushing past the fine, blonde hair trailing down beneath his belly button.

Dean moaned into her mouth and impatiently lifted his hips from the couch. She snuck her fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers and curled her fingers around the base of his hardening length. Dean gasped against her kiss-swollen lips and closed his eyes tightly, promptly rolling his hips to push his cock through her fingers.

“You look so hot like this,” she whispered against the corner of his lips. Dean squirmed and spread his legs when he planted his feet flat on the floor to aid each of his thrusts. Gently, she placed her other hand around his neck to tip his head back and to the side to place a feverish kiss to his cracked, pillowy lips.

She continued moving her hand along his length, from root to tip, playing with the precum that began to accumulate and stain the cotton of his underwear.

Dean’s chest rose and fell quickly with each breath, attempting to hold off his orgasm. His thighs tensed, muscles constricting beneath thin dress pants as she twisted her hand up and down his cock inside his slacks and boxers. His lips moved desperately against hers and he swiped his tongue across hers, his brows furrowed in mind-numbing pleasure.

Dean’s fingers dug into her thighs on either side of his body, trying to keep himself stable as his hips bucked up into her hand, driving his cock faster through her fingers. Her hand squeezed at the sides of his neck and released to make his brain fuzzier, neurons hazed with lust and need.

“Please… I wanna be inside you, baby,” Dean panted against her lips as she kissed him. Instead, she rapidly continued to tug at his cock, her fist wrapped tightly around him until he felt like exploding. “I can’t- please- I need you,” he begged, but never dared to stop her as her lips trailed away to his jawline, to suck a dark mark on the sensitive skin of his neck.

She suddenly loosened her grip on his cock and slowly slid her slick palm up the front of his body. His orgasm began to fade away and his body slumped against hers, his chests heaving with each breath, his heart racing. Her lips brushed against his earlobe, “you’re right…” she murmured.

“A-about what?” He mumbled, lifting himself up to turn and face her. She was smiling at him when he gazed at her, her eyes soft and full of love, mirroring the much more dishevelled expression on his own, pink face.

Her eyes flickered away from his dewy green eyes when he leaned into her. He watched them travel up his body, from his thigh pressing into the leather next to her leg, to his boxers shoved low on his hips, exposing curly, light brown hair, his unzipped slacks and therather belt hanging losing around his hips, up to the opened dress shirt and t-shirt beneath draped haphazardly over his chest, and then her eyes stopped at his mouth.

She tilted her head and met him the rest of the way to press her lips against his, placing a soft, adoring peck. “I do think cowboys are fucking hot, especially you,” she smirked, scratching gently at the nape of his neck, playing with the tiny hairs behind his head.

Dean bit his lip, mirroring her expression, and hummed, “is that right?” She nodded, her other hand slipping down to tease the waistband of his boxers. Dean’s calloused hands travelled up her sides, sneaking beneath her long-sleeved shirt, up warm, soft skin. “I already knew, just wanted to hear you say it.”

She laughed shortly, allowing Dean to lift her thick shirt up and off her body. Dean’s lips came down to her neck, hot and open-mouthed kisses flushing her skin. His hands traced her sides and eventually hooked at the top of her leggings to pull down the material covering her legs. He carefully let her lay down as she shifted to fully remove her leggings and underwear.

But she sat upright once more before Dean could settle between her warm legs. Dean remained fully clothed and he laughed against her breasts when she impatiently shoved his slacks and boxers lower. His hands remained firmly on her body, exploring inches of familiar skin—squeezing, pulling, and holding.

His soft lips moved over the expanse of her chest, teeth nibbling on sensitive flesh, his wet tongue tasting her velvety skin. Her hands made their way down past his cock to cup his balls, which made Dean’s brow rise in pleasant surprise, his mouth freezing around her nipple.

He moaned around her skin and brought his own hand down between her legs as his cock bobbed excitedly. Warm slick coated his fingertips when he slid his fingers through her folds. With a pleased hum, she reached back to grip the wooden handle of the couch, and gently pressed her palm against his balls.

He played with her clit, coating it in her arousal, then buried his middle finger inside her. She bit her lip and arched her back, a jolt from his thumb pressing into her clit causing her to moan. She removed her hand from between his legs—much to his disappointment—to dig her nails into his taut thigh.

Dean dragged his tongue across her chest to attend to her other breast and dipped a second finger into her. Her pussy fluttered around his scissoring fingers, she whispered his name, moving her legs over his hips in a more comfortable position. Her hand slid up to bunch up in his shirt as her thighs twitched, screwing her eyes shut as the pleasure dazed her.

Her shift in position brought her centre closer to him and he pushed a third finger into her, working her open thoroughly, expertly. Her wetness drenched his thick fingers, making every push and pull swift and easy. They curled inside her, rubbing delectably at her g-spot, pressing delightfully into the most sensitive parts of her walls. Her toes curled and she lifted herself up higher in his lap, implicitly urging him to skip to the fucking.

Dean instantly did as she wordlessly requested and pulled his glistening fingers out of her warmth. He stroked his cock a few times, first, watching her watch him coat himself in her excitement. He looked back down between their flushed bodies when he began moving his cock through her dewy folds, moaning contentedly at the sensation of her against him.

She unclenched her hand from his shirt to bring up behind his neck, her delicate fingers slipping between short hairs. Finally, Dean pushed himself into her deliberately, then out gradually. Over and over they created a rhythm.

With one foot on the floor and his knee pressing into the backrest, his hands gripping her hips tightly. His lips connected to any part of her he could reach, moaning and gasping softly against her skin with every clench of her pussy, every measured thrust to feel every inch of her slide across his cock.

Her arm flexed behind her as she moved with Dean, her fingers gripping the wooden arm of the couch tightly, timing each roll of her hips with his. Occasionally, she met every one of his thrust and brought his face closer to her with her fingers curled around the back of his neck.

His breath dampened her already steamy skin and his hands started to wander lovingly over her shiny body, feeling the exertion of her muscles beneath his calloused palms.

Gradually, they began to move faster against each other.

Dean’s body built up more heat with the clothes still covering every inch of him. His mouth went dry with every open-mouthed breath and he searched for her lips as a tingle ran up his spine, his stomach clenching to foreshadow his impending orgasm.

He felt her breath against his lips and her fingers moved deeper into his hair, tugging so his mouth fell open. Her lips moved over his, her wet tongue bringing moisture back into his mouth, and over his chapped lips. Dean kissed her back with so much more force, easing his tongue into her mouth when she pulled hers out to smirk into the kiss.

He squeezed her ass, painfully pressing his fingers into her back, desperately trying to feel her against his body. He fucked into her briskly, with strong thrusts that pressed his cock deeper into her channel until she squirmed from how good it was. He swallowed her pleased groan and brought her closer with his arm around her waist and his palm flat against her back.

Dean’s thrust became erratic, every slam of his hips and every roll of hers made contact with her clit, bringing her close to the edge with him. Every touch of each other’s bodies, every hot and lewd kiss, every heavy and fast breath, every breathless and pleasured sound, every wet and hot sensation built up like volatile chemicals.

With a few final thrusts, Dean came with a groan of her name by her ear. She squeezed his cock tightly and cursed at the sensation of his hot cum coating her insides. Her thighs pressed into his hips as she orgasmed with a sharp gasp, clinging to him as they rode out their climax.

Dean ground his hips up into her, keeping himself deep inside her as she shook and held him in a tight embrace. Their lips met once more for a softer, more elated kiss as they became blanketed in the afterglow of their release. She released the wooden arm of the couch to cup Dean’s scruffy jaw and Dean’s arms circled around her waist.

He moved backwards carefully and laid her down onto her back, allowing her to fully wrap her legs around his waist. Dean shoved his suit jacket and dress shirt off as they kissed. She smiled against his mouth and let him pull away fully from her lips to watch him throw both items onto his bed.

“It was cold before, but it’s hot now,” he muttered, pulling his t-shirt up over his head by the back of the neck. She giggled and brought her hands to his ass, moving his pants and underwear lower, past his thighs.

“Well…” she trailed off, gazing at him as he slowly pulled his cock out of her. “Hey,” she pouted, moving his attention away from the mess between her legs and the mixture of their spendings leaked out of her.

“Uh, yeah?” He grinned, moving off the couch to kick off the cowboy boots, and everything else so he was fully naked before her.

“Your last gift,” she started, looking over to the bed. Before returning to his spot between her legs, Dean followed her eyes and lifted a brow. “It’s under your pillow,” she smiled shyly, looking up at him as his lips parted and then made an ‘o’.

“Awesome,” he murmured, making his way to his side of the bed. He searched underneath with a swipe of his hands beneath the cool pillow and grabbed the small, somewhat heavy box decorated with pink wrapping paper and a silver bow. “What is it?” He asked, shaking it curiously.

She laughed at him, taking the unused napkin from the table to clean herself up, which distracted Dean from his gift. He was about to protest, offering to clean her up, but she laughed. He pouted at her, but settled back in her arms in the same position as before once she finished.

“I really… really hope you like this one,” she whispered against his shoulder. Dean looked back at her and smiled softly—his eyes reassuring her that he’d like anything that came from her. He carefully pulled at one end of the bow to watch it fall apart into a straight line.

He ripped the paper to reveal a wooden box. Dean imagined a necklace, if the thud against the soft cushion inside the box revealed anything about what it actually was.

A ring? He planned on proposing, but he’d say yes if she turned the tables. He smiled at the thought, but he doubted that they were stepped enough into a normal life for that. If it were up to him, he’d have asked her to marry him ages ago.

He opened the box slowly and blinked at the steel key.

“A… key?” He asked out loud, turning his body to look at her as she waited for his reaction anxiously.

“I… bought a house?” She squeaked, her cheeks turning dark. Dean’s lips parted. He wanted to question her, to make a comment about what the place looked like or where it was or how much it cost, to say anything, but his throat tightened and clogged any words from escaping. With his tongue heavy in his mouth, there was no hope to ease her anxiety. He shut it instead. “For you- us. You and me…” she rambled, wrapping her hand around his to shut the box as if it were Pandora’s box—unleashing her deepest fears, but worst of all, her hope.

“I…” Dean trailed off, staring at the wooden exterior of the square container. A little box that would give him the future he’s secretly always yearned for with her. He was too much of a coward to ever do anything and go for it. Her hand moved away from his and she shifted behind him awkwardly, pushing him off her so he’d face her instead.

“You don’t…” she whispered, then cleared her throat. “It’s okay, if you don’t want… this…” She snatched the gift away from him as if she’d show him her deepest secret and had been judged for revealing what it was.

“No! I-I do want this,” Dean reassured her and quickly took it back to open it, and remove the key from inside. He placed it on his palm, cold, small, and light against his sweaty skin. “I just…” His eyes flickered up to hers, the guarded and nearly stony expression on her face twisting his stomach in regret. “I love you,” he breathed, pressing his lips against the corner of her lips.

“Are you sure?” She bit her lip, her eyes dancing over his face to gauge any emotion or shift that would hint to reveal he was truly feeling. “I don’t want you to be unhappy… if you don’t want this, it’s okay. You can tell me. I have a backup gift anyway,” she shrugged casually, moving to sit on her legs next to him.

She gazed at the side of his face as he continued to make her heart plummet with the long stare at the key in his hand.

“Why?” He asked with knitted brows, looking at her. He could tell she felt much more bare and vulnerable as she crossed her arms over his chest and kept herself covered with her own body.

“I didn’t know if I wanted to give it to you just yet,” she admitted. Dean frowned. “But after today… the way you followed me around and helped me.. I changed my mind,” she shrugged again, “but it’s okay if we both want something different, if you’re not ready… you know I’d wait…” She smiled nervously, so it didn’t last, and her mouth returned to a straight line.

“No more waiting, baby.” Dean shook his head and put the key back into the box, leaving it beside him to take her hands. He lifted them both up to his lips, staring into her eyes to demonstrate his earnestness, “you waited long enough.”

“I promise you that I’m ready,” he reassured her, brushing his thumbs against her knuckles. “This gift… it means so much to me. I do, truly, love you.” Dean tugged her hands and she finally laughed, allowing herself to be happy with him. In this moment. And forever. No more waiting.

As he held her, Dean pictured the future they could have together and let his body rest without fear of everything else going on. For once, he’d let himself be happy. It was the one way he could let go of Sam, allowing both himself and his baby brother a shot at a normal life, something Dean wanted for himself and Sam for so long. This was the first step to freedom.

“Happy birthday, Dean,” she whispered against his forehead, kissing the tiny scar that resided there.

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@rominaszh @livingdeadmak @lanassmarty @murdockscumsock @zepskies @candy-coated-misery0731 @stxrgazer03 @epsilonsagittarii @lyarr24 @spnfamily-j2 @globetrotter28 @deansbbyx @lickmybawls @jackles010378 @winchstrdean @deanwinchestersgirl87 @the-achievementhunter @deanfreakingwinchester @k-slla @madzzz0797 @laylaackles @fanfic-n-tabulous @kristophalis @mrlonelycat @taylortots-world @evznackles @ohnosy @juicyballsworld @angelbabyyy99 @girls-alias @impala1967rollingthroughtown @kezibear @kaleldobrev @iwishiwasntreal @pasteldecrack @blackcherrywhiskey @dayhsdreaming @littlemadamred

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main masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

dean’s 45th birthday celebration masterlist

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

#dean’s 45th birthday celebration #dean x female!reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #happy birthday dean <3 #happybirthdaydeanwinchester #happy birthday dean

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besidesitstoowarm · 7 months

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"The Unicorn and the Wasp" thoughts

this is the best historical of the davies era. sorry

i really think it has exactly the right vibe. charles dickens was a good pick bc he was instantly recognizable (unlike madame du pompadour) but not too famous to portray normally (unlike shakespeare). agatha cristie, again, extremely recognizable, but not ubiquitous. i imagine many people like myself are more familiar with the "vibe" of her stories than the actual content. and i think a fun murder mystery is a better use of a historical figure than a mostly-unrelated ghost-not-ghost thing that's mostly about the doctor's survivor's guilt

i loved the setting, the costumes. the scene where the doctor is dying of cyanide and needs to shock himself out of it is ICONIC, i can't believe i'd completely forgotten about it. HOW IS HARVEY WALLBANGER ONE WORD. and then revealing all the secrets and learning the wasp secret. condolences on the dead gay son

i was kind of caught up, though, on the doctor and donna AGAIN being confused for a couple. i mean, i get why it happens all the time in "bones", bc they're doing a will-they-won't-they and the two leads ARE secretly in love w each other. but the doctor and donna aren't, and they don't even act like they would be. and people assume it straightaway without even talking to them first. why is that?

and i think it's another example of the kind of. inevitability, of the season ending. in the same way that there were so many hints about "bad wolf" both in the text (kept coming up as graffiti, code names, in welsh) and in the music (had its own theme). it drew rose towards that ending, both as an active choice (she'd heard the words bad wolf and knew they were linked to her somehow) and as the creators' doylist decisions (the music again). the characters in this story recognize that there is a link between the doctor and donna so profound that they can only conceive of it as romantic. and this has been true since the beginning! she appeared on the tardis in "runaway bride" bc this is her DESTINY. it was always going to happen! she's been dead since the beginning!!!

i don't know if that was intended but it's the only thing that makes sense to me. we know from last episode that the cut-off hand drew them to jenny, who wasn't created until they landed. paradoxes exist. donna keeps getting drawn closer and closer to forming the relationship that is so profound it echoes back through her every adventure with the doctor. doctordonna, two souls in one body. the bad wolf was rose/tardis, it was THE representation of the rose-doctor relationship, that's why the theme played every time they got codependent in s2. the doctor and donna aren't in love, not like he was with rose, but it's the same kind of relationship, melding at intimate seams until it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. it's an intimacy that leads to extreme vulnerability which is why he's able to violate her mind like that

the episode is too good for me to have much to say about it so that's what i thought about instead. the echoes, the echoes. this was always going to happen.

#doctor who #besides its too rewatch #DW s4 #The Unicorn and the Wasp

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blackbird-brewster · 4 months

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CM Femslash Master List (New)

ALL OF MY WORKS ON AO3 || MY WRITING ON TUMBLR

This is a master list of my miscellaneous CM femslash. If you're looking for my JJ/Emily (Jemily), Emiily/Tara (Temily), or JJ/Tara (Jara) works, please see the links on the bottom of the post.

UPDATED: 08 February 2024

TARA/REBECCA (TEBECCA)

Easy (General || WC: 1572 || Fluff) Summary: For the first time in her life, Tara Lewis found herself in a relationship that just felt easy.

Kiss and Not Tell (Teen || WC: 1792 || Fluff/Crack) Summary: Rebecca gets invited to a BAU Girls' Night and chaos ensues

Love They Say (Teen || WC: 2463 || Fluff) (ft. JJ/Emily) Summary: At a long overdue BAU Girl's Night, Tara asks for dating advice from JJ and Emily.

Going Home (Explicit || WC: 3254 || Holiday Fluff/Smut) Summary: Tara and Rebecca share their first holiday together. Memories are made, love is abundant, happiness abounds.

Cut to the Feeling (Explicit || WC: 19,377 || OT3 Romance) (Tara/Rebecca/JJ) Summary: When JJ finds out Tara has a girlfriend, she's surprised when this announcement causes her to feel an overwhelming sense of jealousy. In her attempt to ask Tara about her relationship status, JJ accidentally admits far more than she ever intended, leaving Tara feeling confused and slightly intrigued at the idea of what she and JJ might have had together -- if not for the fact Tara is happily dating Rebecca.

Fooled Around (and Fell in Love) - Part 3 (Explicit || WC: 218, 575 || Rom-Com AU) Summary: When JJ/Tara/Emily decide to buy a house together, Tara volunteers to renovate it into their perfect dream home. In order to follow through on her promise, Tara enlists the help of a general contractor, Beck Wilson -- but Beck's construction skills aren't the only thing that garners Tara's attention.

JJ, Tara, and Emily, must find a way to navigate all of the changes in their lives while keeping their relationship afloat. Will unexpected feelings, secrets, and jealousy threaten the foundation of everything they've worked hard to build?

A wholesome, queer rom-com, with a healthy dose of polyamory.

MISC. SHIPS

A Friend in Need (JJ/Elle) Explicit || WC: 1540 ||| Smut Prompt: “Were you just masturbating?”

The Haunted Doctor (Tara/Penelope) General || WC: 679 || Fluff Summary: Garcia is dead set on beating Reid at the annual BAU costume contest, so she enlists the help of her girlfriend to create the cutest couples' costumes.

The 9th Floor (Tara/Penelope) General || WC: 658 || Fluff Summary: Extended scene at the end of 11x05

More Recs Under the Cut

My Fanfic Master Lists: [JJ/Emily] || [Tara/Emily] || [JJ/Tara] || [Misc Ships]

2023 Rec Lists: [JJ/Emily] || [Tara/Emily + Other Femslash]

2022 Rec Lists: [JJ/Emily] || [Tara/Emily] || [Other Femslash]

Also check out my past [Friday Fic Recs]

UPDATED: 08 February 2024

#criminal minds #tara lewis #rebecca wilson #tebecca #elle greenaway #jennifer jareau #jelle #penelope garcia #lewcia #cm fanfic #my writing #master list #cm reference

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noctilionoidea · 2 years

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Monster High Gen 3 movie review

I YOHOHOED IT. FOUND THE LINK but I’m not gonna link it here unless asked. I don’t support the director but I did want to watch it since there’s a lot of hate, which makes me want to give it a chance at the least for the actors. This is just my personal opinion, as an og fan since the age of 5 when I found Draculaura at target. This series is part of what inspired me as a goth. But since this is for the children of today, I want to view it with neither a positive of negative bias. Anyways, I’m just a kid with opinions that you can disagree with.

no matter the quality, it is a reboot. When I was little I saw my little pony turn the femme fashionista Rainbow Dash I knew into the jock we know today. I was only pissy for a week because I didn’t find them to even slightly the same character. I still don’t, even after I became a fan and eventually grew out of it (not that I think I’m too old, I’m just not a huge mlp fan anymore). Reboots often turn characters unrecognizable for better or worse. It’s a normal result. If your pissed about that beyond “we were asking for a gen 1 revival and don’t trust Mattel saw a corporation” I suggest you go mountain hiking or something. Anything to get your mind off it because you are clearly in need of it.

main takeaway; I don’t hate it.

it reminds me of the boy who cried werewolf, another Nickelodeon Halloween movie that, like the og monster high, i grew up on. The musical numbers are okay. They’re pop songs which aren’t my taste, but they aren’t horrific and “out of the dark” or whatever its called, is pretty good. The background music is reminiscent of old 90s Halloween movies.

THE COSTUMING ISNT AS SHIT AS EVERYONE SAYS IT IS. Seriously, if you see a highschooler you know they dress like shit. Heck, I am that highschooler half the time. Even in full goth attire I’m limited, I’m seventeen and not allowed to wear fishnets. fishnets! They don’t look horrid, just slightly cheap.

here’s some things I dislike

clawdeen and Deuce have a half assed romance. We all knew this, but like, they don’t even commit to it anyways, and cleo (who he broke up with pre movie) still has better chemistry with both of them. I feel people make too big a deal of lesbian clawdeen (she’s had male love interests, it’s simply a headcanon beloved by the creator as well. That being said she does have in g1 tons of lesbian coding so it’s still a slap in the face).

it opens with clawdeen in a skate park, but has absolutely no reason to be like that. Was it to make her relatable? By pulling “sick skateboard moves dawg” or something? It’s not a new character trait either, never comes up again. She could’ve been going for a walk or run and it would’ve hit the same notes.

Clawdeen has no personality. It’s been stripped of her to make her relatable and failed miserably. I can’t name an interest or anything.

draculaura has a personality, but with making her pure goth (a decision I actually love as she was originally a Victorian goth) they’ve taken away her bubbliness. She’s not horrid, but it’s sad, because it was an opportunity to have a bubbly goth vampire witch.

Komos is named for a Greek Satyr but is meant to be a Minotaur “Hyde monster” hybrid?? As someone familiar with Komos, boy satyr in the retinue of his father the god Dionysos, there were… so many better possibilities.

Hyde is not an active part of the movie, but he’s got a huge influence. Hyde is intended to be a monster, with Jekyll as his human half. As a fan of the strange case of doctor Jekyll and mister Hyde, it’s not the worst representation of the character, as they seem to be one and not another boring split personality, but! Hyde is clearly meant to be perceived mainly as a monster, but in the novella he’s mainly a chemical induced transformation that results in Jekyll being… a horrid dumbass. Hyde is also depicted as muscular despite his real description being of a young and hairy scrawny short man. As a Jekyll/Hyde kinnie (jk) I do not like how my trash goblin doctor gets portrayed and am taking it out on this.

ghoulia speaks English. I’m ready to punt whoever did that. Like she’s kinda charming but just… it was always important that she seems to be foreign language or nonverbal, you know?

monsters that were marketed as more prevailing were just there or background characters. It’s just really clickbait-y.

that being said

I liked witch Draculaura. She’s cute in a different way than Draculaura. Dracula puts pressure on her to be the best vampire ever (though never spoken), and hates human magic, which is witchcraft. And yeah, that makes sense as witchcraft is historically a thing of humans in close relation to the supernatural and or divine. Vampires and witches canoncially have an ongoing war between them, it’s a miracle he allows her to practice in the end. She’s socially isolated and cold in part because not only does she fail to live up to her father’s expectations academically, but also indulges in activities he hates. And her other outfits look significantly better than than the promotional image thank god.

Clawdeen has a very sweet relationship with her father, which keeps her from turning into a full monster when given the chance, because he’s important to her and she doesn’t want to erase his side of her. He’s scared for her but allows her to go to monster high because it’s what she needs. They have such a good relationship and it’s nice to see.

Cleo simply seemed to go through the old “mean girl to friend” in the same way she did originally. She’s done pretty well in general. She trained under the magic god Heka while alive, and she does her best to help in the climax, getting over her biases.

Lagoona is Cleo’s bestie here, but she’s not done wrong whatsoever. She’s there to defend Cleo when she thinks that deuce has left her emotionally hurt and shows worry and compassion in her few scenes, in which she is never the focus… that’s not great but. She also has an accent still, just not Australian. So she doesn’t get to have that moment where she says-

Frankie is literally. The greatest. They’re the absolute highlight in my opinion. I feel they still embody the Frankie from the other versions, but with new aspects. They’re made of famous people in both mind and body (freida Kahlo’s hands, Shakespeare’s liver, the heart of some farmer, etc.) they have a bunch of knowledge but are socially unaware of how to interact. They’re autism coded!! It makes me happy! I too, am autistic!!! They also have the best jokes and it’s totally worth pirating to watch, just for them💖. You just know that if Og Frankie met them, she’d immediately get along with them.

Abby and holt play football with a foot in one scene. And then talk about eating it. There’s a lot of cannibalism jokes, but the football one was funny (Frankie again, is a huge reason why).

It’s not great. It’s very flawed. One might say it’s bad. But whatever kid who watches this, is probably able to enjoy it. I did, in spite of it being so unrecognizable from the series of my childhood. I hope the show will be better though. (I also hope holt’s adopted there)

I don’t think it’s worth ALL the hate it gets. It’s not brilliant, but if you’re not supporting the dickwad director I think it’s worth killing time for.

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chernobog13 · 1 year

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Rondo Hatton schemes to make life difficult for the Iron Skull in Amazing-Man Comics #16 (October, 1940).

And compared to the Iron Skull, Rondo was Adonis.

This is the Iron Skull:

He was created by Carl Burgos, who also created an obscure character named the Human Torch for Timely Comics.

The Iron Skull initially did not have an origin story when he first appeared in the very first issue of Amazing-Man Comics (which, oddly, was numbered 5; there were no issues #1-4). He just showed up at the scene of a crime and started mopping up crooks left and right.

Later it was revealed that the Skull was a soldier gravely injured during World War ll, which was interesting because America had not entered the war at the time the story was written. The soldier's damaged flesh and bones were replaced with metal by a kindly doctor, making the soldier super-strong and bullet-proof. Oddly though, the doctor gave the new cyborg animé cat eyes, and completely forgot to give him a nose.

Don't believe me? Here's the Iron Skull's full origin from Amazing-Man Comics #7 (November, 1939).

Written and drawn by Carl Burgos.

Yeah, that's all the explanation anyone every got as to who he is and how he came to be.

The series took place in the future of the 1960s, when the war - some of which had been fought in America - finally came to an end. The country was rebuilding itself, but crime became rampant, which is why the Ron Skull - so-called because of his noseless appearance - became a crime fighter.

By Amazing-Man Comics #11 the series had jumped ahead to the early 1970s. War broke out in Europe again, and an unnamed nation was instigating terrorist attacks in the States. The Iron Skull now concentrated his efforts on tackling the spies and saboteurs trying to bring America down.

The Iron Skull skipped issues #12 & 13 of Amazing-Man Comics. He was back with issue #14, but gone was Carl Burgos, replaced by Sam Gilman. Also gone was the futuristic setting and any reference to the events of the previous stories. The Iron Skull moved to New York City where, somehow, in the very next issue he could mentally communicate with the District Attorney.

From Amazing-Man Comics #16. Story and art by Sam Gilman.

The Iron Skull continued to smash crime and war saboteurs in now contemporary, pre-War New York until his strip ended in issue #22. He then moved over to Star and Stripes #2 (May, 1941), along with most of other characters from Amazing-Man Comics, which was cancelled after issue #26.

Things progressed quickly for the Skull in his new book. In issue #3 he got a costume, albeit a simple pair of swim trunks. In issue #4 he inexplicably gained the ability to fly. And in issue #5 he became completely bald. However, as compensation the Iron Skull got his true superhero costume (although he just looks like an employee at your local S&M dungeon):

Yes, that's a skull and crossbones tattooed on his chest. Because apparently he just spends his whole day dressed like that, and only dons the cape when he's going into action.

See? I told ya!

Sadly, the Iron Skull didn't get to enjoy the costume for very long. Star and Stripes #6 was the last issue because Centaur Publications went out of business the next month.

The DC hero Steel, not John Henry Irons but the World War ll superhero who later became Commander Steel, has a similar origin.

When I first read Steel #1 back in 1978 I thought he was just a WWll-version of The Six Million Dollar Man, with his body being rebuilt with the 1940s equivalent of bionics. But now that I've delved into the Iron Skull and his one panel origin, I would say Steel is much more similar to him than Steve Austin (whether or not Steel creator Gerry Conway intended that).

Steel did not, however, develop telepathy or the ability to fly. Nor did he, thankfully, decide to run around in leather boy shorts.

#The Iron Skull #Rondo Hatton #Centaur Publications #Carl Burgos #Sam Gilman #Steel the Indestructible Man #Gerry Conway #Don Heck #Joe Giella #Anthony Tollin #DC Comics

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baezdylan · 2 years

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Been doing some spring-cleaning on my Amy playlist and driving myself insane thinking about Amy/11 as a sun and moon dynamic (obviously, who's who switches constantly, but always tied together, yet can never permanently be that way), so now I'm dead-set (see: deluding myself) on When The Day Met The Night being an Amy/11 song.

Because, and this is going to be a mini-essay, the song doesn't make it clear who's who between the sun and the moon + she and he, I think it's largely read as he being the moon and she being the moon but it can be read both ways -> Amy and 11 never really fitting neatly into one box.

And the song (and the album as a whole) has very overt fairy tale influences -> like a name in a fairy tale

As a bonus, the album this is on, but not this song sadly, has quite a few references to Rimbaud's A Season In Hell

But onto the song itself:

The links to the many gardens, especially the idea that the gardens are where he comes back to her (S5, the big bang Dr finding her asleep in her garden, S6, Amy finding out that he didn't die while she's in her background, S7, the scene with the convo with Rory where the TARDIS can be heard arriving)

Thinking about how 10's regen to 11 going roughly, collapsing and bleeding energy everywhere, literally just hanging on

But also Amy's "why did you say five minutes" in the garden and the look on her face when she says that -> the idea that she spent a lot of her 12 years barely hanging on to a sense of normality and sanity

Thinking about both of them making promises not to leave the other, textually or implied, and both of them breaking said promises....

To end this insane ramble, I'll leave you with the knowledge that if you queue Little Amy (the murray gold track) before When The Day Met The Night and then set the spotify crossfade to 3secs, the two tracks sync really nicely <3

This is an EXCELLENT match (thank you for the rant :")))) Keeping the reply under the cut because things got messy and deranged :/

Just... thinking about Night/Day imagery in general and how 11 and Amy meet during the night and each one of them thinks of the other as the sun while perceiving themselves as the moon. Considering how 10 felt about regenerating and how that predestined 11 to have his actual identity constantly creep up on him which he isn't thrilled about because he's preoccupied with holding on to everything 10 was. (INSANE how Ten has to deal with Rose's ghost, the ghost of a living person and eventually ends up as one himself. He lives because Eleven wants to keep him alive, but it's not quite him... never a proper ghost, never a proper person...) it's only at the end of his arc that 11 acknowledges 10's vanity of all things. And then regarding Amy, there's the otherness she experiences in every timeline, even in the one where she remembers the Doctor, her drawings and artworks of him exist in her bedroom still. What a crooked solar system! The Moon chasing The Sun, 11 not allowing 10 to go, Amy waiting for 11.

Back to the Night/Day thing (the stuff above was a prelude, I guess), 11 comes back to Amy during the night (5x01) and leaves her during the day. (The God Complex) Key motif of The Romantic Period!!!! But also reminiscent of Symbolism. (Romanticism and Modernism as Amy's Art Movements Agenda is going strong) Actually your analysis here SCREAMS Verlaine's À La Promenade to me. ("and dying, like a sunshine of a dream" it says + mentions of costumes and vows, but again it's so much better in french dbdjdjjdjdjr modernism is freaky translated, but not the freaky that was originally intended to be portrayed bdjdjdjdjd)

Ooooooh the gardens, it gets even crazier with the gardens. The symbolism is ANCIENT, they are beauty and innocence and life, but are also wilderness and escapism and a ticket to nowhere. But for Amy, each reading of the garden kind of starts to exist with all these qualities exaggerated depending on the narrative moment, to the point of all of it becoming unbearable. She waits for the Doctor as a child and the green enveloping her house is too messy, she marries Rory and her new garden is too neat. Too messy and too perfect constantly being presented as the only two options Amy has, they only two ways in which she's allowed to be perceived. Truly haunted by her own dichotomy-defined presence. (never really fitting neatly into one box!!!!!!) "You could really spend a lifetime in here - not that I'm going to." on one hand she's been spending lifetimes in gardens like the TGWW one. On the other hand the TGWW garden is everything she wants, but Amy won't even consider it because she craves the Big Dramatic Moment, the feeling of having something happen to her even and especially if it's unpleasant ("kind of a good hurt") because she's been stuck in the in-between since forever and she doesn't want her dreams handed to her without the journey, without a sense of achievement. Wish fulfilment isn't appealing to her at all.

AAAAAAAND I wandered off here and this is INSANE and incoherent, but YAY for the Rimbaud cameos in music, I LOVE to see it.

#amy pond #doctor who #dw meta #amy pond unrelated media universe #💌restless wind inside a letter box💌#aaaaaaah and thank you for the tip (and the rec!!!) i'll make sure to listen to it like that #and to check out pretty. odd. in its entirety #my friend will be thrilled about this she's been urging me to listen to p!atd for quite a while #so sorry about this my thoughts just happened i suppose

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sleepymarmot · 10 months

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Phantom Thread (2017)

[Finally forcing myself to post the reviews of films I watched earlier this year. Saw this one on January 29th — almost exactly seven months ago! As usual, I also post the notes I took while watching, so scroll down a bit if you only want the review.]

Liveblog

The dress is pretty but it doesn’t sit well on her at all.

Damn that was quite a rude way to hit on a perfect stranger

Girl has no sense of self-preservation! What do you mean you get into the car of a customer you talked to for two minutes, after dark?!

Wow he put his fingers in the sauce, is that normal for rich British men or is that another creepy flirting method? That’s unhygienic, please use your own food for innuendo

Oh my god Cyril is immediately acting creepy also

“My job to give you some. (beat) If I choose to.” Dude lmao…

“You have the ideal shape. He likes a little belly.” Ok first of all, insane thing to say once again. Secondly, w h e r e

I like this dress even less. Weird skirt, looks uncomfortable.

Why did he bring his sister to their date

“How early?” “I’ll wake you.” …

The fabric conversation… Is this negging again or is he for real

I really thought Cyril would say “Maybe you’re being too fussy.” I guess Alma has not yet leveled up enough to get quoted verbatim

“But, please, don’t let her sit around waiting for you.” Ha, now Cyril is repeating Alma’s words without even knowing Does Cyril not drink from the kettle? That was kind of risky…

The wedding dress is ugly Oh, he said it himself, okay

Damn, all of these women have to work overtime because of this couple’s power plays

He went from “I want a divorce” to “We’re doing food poisoning based BDSM” awfully quickly

Wait where’s that text post about being poisoned by your wife... Was it inspired by this movie lol

Ok so we all agree Reynolds is autistic, with his routines and picky eating and misophonia

---

Review

How come Tumblr has never mentioned this one to me? Feels silly to say “where have you all been hiding this” about a Best Picture nominee from five years ago, but still. This is literally a romance between “ok first of all i didnt "miss" the red flags i looked them and thought yeah thats sexy” and “love my terrible wife […] when we eat dinner ill smile and say “poison again ?” and she will shrug mischievously but we both know it is very much poison”!

General notes

Set design, cinematography and lighting were beautiful. In our age of murky shots, it’s remarkable to see a film that’s never underlit — sometimes even the opposite. Wasn’t a fan of the grain, though; the flickering is hard on the eyes, and in the copy I watched it looked like a low quality rip instead of a warm nostalgic analogue look that I assume was intended. The sound side was as good as the visuals: this might be the first time I actually noticed the sound design, and the score was nothing less than what I expected of Jonny Greenwood.

I have mixed feelings about the costuming. Some of the dresses are beautiful… but the two most important ones, the very first dress we see and the very first dress made for Alma, didn’t fit the wearers’ silhouettes, and looked stiff and uncomfortable.

Some of the dialogue, mostly at the beginning, felt unnatural; not sure if that’s just me not being a native speaker, since nobody else had the same complaint.

I didn’t get “never cursed”. Was that a statement Reynolds secretly made about himself, or a lucky charm referring to the princess’ marriage? Why did Alma rip the label out? Why did she join the seamstresses in the first place — did she feel guilty that they got caught in the crossfire and had to work overtime because of her, or did she just want to inspect the dress? I also don’t understand why people seem to adore the New Year’s Eve scene.

Do you think Alma told the doctor the whole story, or just talked about their relationship but left out the poisonings? I think it would be unwise to tell that to anyone lest they call the police…

In the sections below, I am going to talk negatively about Reynolds a lot. So I want to clarify first: I do sympathize with Reynolds in many ways; I wouldn’t want a new person to get in the way of my habits, and I would be unhappy with the surprise dinner too. And that’s also exactly why I don’t invite strangers to live with me and interrupt my routines then get mad at them for that, you know…

Filing this one as “Movies I wouldn’t want to watch or discuss with my mother even though there’s zero sex and nudity on screen”. I don’t know which part would be more awkward, the Freudian subtext or everything else…

The omelette

I’ve recently acquired a bad habit of reading too much about movies before watching. In this case it was probably a good thing, though: without the spoilers, I doubt I would have seen this any time soon, or managed to sit through the first hour. Luckily, I didn’t know the key element of the omelette scene, and still managed to have a proper first time viewing experience as it slowly dawned on me that Reynolds was aware of everything and the poisoning was going to be consensual this time.

That scene, and the follow-up interactions between Alma and Reynolds in the cottage (excluding the daydreaming flash-forwards, which I have mixed feelings about), were, unsurprisingly, my favorite part of the film. Many reviews quote Alma’s monologue (which, as I realize now, I might have originally encountered in a joke screenshot with zero context) or the line Reynolds says in response, so I’ll highlight some other things. The contrast between how simple and ordinary their actions are on the surface (cooking, serving food, eating, talking at the table) and how wild the meaning of these actions is; the mix between a duel, a dance and a negotiation that mostly consists of extremely mundane movements. The intense eye contact, the “I know that you know that I know”. How Alma put too much butter in his food and poured water too loudly for too long, and he accepted it without complaint but with the same calm and clarity as the poison. How they look genuinely happy, in love, and on the same page for the first time in the entire film. How easily he says “I love you”.

The omelette discourse

…And now that I’ve documented my immediate positive emotional response, it’s time for some overthinking and complaining. Perhaps everything I say below can be dismissed by saying “they’re both awful and deserve each other, that’s the point haha”, but that’s not a mode my brain can stay in for long. So please bear with me, or just skip this section.

Because no matter how exciting and cathartic that ending is, I can’t help but ask: what next? Is this experience going to let Reynolds finally grow out of his cycle of childlike helplessness and patriarchal despotism, instead of solidifying it? What are we supposed to infer — that the poisonings are going to be a regular occurrence from now on, or that they will become unneeded as Reynolds gradually mellows out? (The former would, realistically, have diminishing returns and practical complications like “people are going to start asking questions”, and the latter kind of goes against the celebratory kink-positive tone of the film’s grand finale.) Are we to believe that Alma’s poison is an antidote to Reynolds’s toxic masculinity, and that the more he submits to Alma the more he can tolerate her when things go back to normal, until the two of them grow to exist harmoniously?

I guess there is some evidence of that process already beginning. When Reynolds bounces back after the first poisoning, he’s slightly less mean to Alma than before the marriage. Alma’s poisoning is also less destructive the second time: consent, no collateral damage, not on the eve of an important deadline, she agrees to call the doctor.

I think the film wants the viewer to think that by the end, Reynolds and Alma’s mutual toxicity cancels itself out, and they manage to reach a harmonious equilibrium. That might be true of the first poisoning, where Alma retaliates against Reynolds’s abuse with some of her own. At the mid-point of the film, their vileness is pretty evenly matched. After that first poisoning, there’s a brief honeymoon period. Then Reynolds goes back to berating Alma, disregarding her feelings, and being dissatisfied with her presence in his life… And in response to Reynolds making her feel unloved, Alma does something that makes Reynolds feel loved. In the end, the score is still in Reynolds’s favor instead of being even. Even in Alma’s daydreams of their happily ever after, the closing monologue of the film, there is no mention of Reynolds changing to accommodate her, only of Alma changing to accommodate him: “I am older and I see things differently, and I finally understand you.”

Perhaps here the story structure and the balance of power between the characters are in conflict; it makes sense to end the film on the strong scene that changes the relationship in a major way — but that means the viewer doesn’t get to know if that change leads to improvement. We never learn if Reynolds eventually becomes a better partner; we only know that Alma is committed to him either way.

No matter how satisfying the couple’s new arrangement is to watch, I don’t see how it would help with the actual problems in their relationship. They are at different stages of life, and that exacerbates the natural differences between their temperaments. Reynolds doesn’t respect Alma as an equal; he insults her and allows others to insult her to his face. He has immense power and privilege over her socially and materially. He has a career that he loves and a devoted sister, but she has no life outside of him — no friends, family, interests, hobbies, income, etc. — and it’s hard to tell if it’s sexist writing, intended characterization, or both.

How is any of that going to be helped by them growing closer emotionally? You two found a love language you have in common and unlocked a new level of intimacy and mutual understanding, congratulations! Is it going to broaden Alma’s horizons and opportunities? Is it going to give Reynolds more progressive views and social awareness, enough to at least defend the honor of his lower class wife? Is he going to stop being emotionally abusive because he is emotionally fulfilled?

This would imply that Reynolds behaves the way he does simply because he is too high-strung and he just needs to take a chill pill. That the problems in their relationship can be reduced to him being a control freak, and once he gets accustomed to giving up control and learns to enjoy it, and then he’ll be a good partner. Sorry, but it’s hard for me to believe that one can tame, let alone fix someone by domming them.

The film seems to attempt a subversion of the patriarchal, hierarchical “artist/muse” “upper class/working class” “man/woman” power dynamics. But the characters do not dismantle that existing power imbalance: instead, they build something new and mutually satisfying on top of it. The film intentionally avoids the feminist wish fulfillment route: Alma doesn’t liberate herself, and she doesn’t even want to. It’s a fairy tale where the Beast doesn’t really become a better person, so the Beauty becomes a worse one to “match” him… but she’s still locked inside his castle. Alma doesn’t abandon the role of a muse, only adds another traditionally feminine role to it: mother. As Feminist Frequency’s review puts it, “Traditional, restrictive gender roles are not escaped; one set is just briefly swapped out for another.” Related: it might be just a consequence of Reynolds’s chosen trade, but the people Alma walks over in her bids for his attention are always women (Barbara Rose, the seamstresses).

Speaking of motherhood… What happens when the woman who likes to treat her husband like a baby gets a real baby? How does she split her time between them? Does she end up neglecting one of them, does that make Reynolds jealous or more abusive? Or will he by that time have gone through enough personal growth to be actually fit for fatherhood? An interview with an expert on Alma’s specific brand of abuse asks an even more worrying question: “I also wondered about the baby at the end, because those who engage in the behavior are likely to do it [again] when similar situations arise. So as the baby gains skills of emancipation, would Alma be equally threatened by that? I saw the baby and thought: Oh no, it may be at risk.”

Perhaps I am being overly cynical and uncharitable here because of who made the film. When an artist with a history of being cruel to his girlfriend writes a story about an artist being cruel to his girlfriend, and makes the fictional girlfriend abusive too, how can I not question it? This film was already very awkward to approach and enjoy as a fan of Fiona Apple, even regardless of its content.

The relationship development

Another thing that didn’t work very well for me in the final sequence is something that also applies to the other parts of the film: the internal logic of the couple’s relationship development. Reynolds goes from “This was a mistake, I can’t live like this, I want a divorce” to “Intoxicate me now 😏 With your lovin’ now 😍 I think I’m ready now 😳” in the space of one cut. These scenes are directly adjacent with no development between them. It makes sense from Alma’s perspective (“what an asshole he’s being, he needs to be poisoned ASAP”), but not from Reynolds’s.

On Alma’s side, though, there’s also a bit of weirdness: Alma to Reynolds: Don’t worry babe you’re not gonna die, I’ll take care of you <3 Alma to the doctor: If he died that’d be fine by me, we’d just meet in the afterlife ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I really can’t tell how I am supposed to take this, and which of the men she was lying to!

But let’s go back to the beginning of the film. Throughout the initial phase of the relationship, I was sure that Reynolds chose playful bullying as his flirting tactic consciously, but later in the film he showed so little self-awareness that I started to suspect he thought that was a normal way to show interest in a girl you just met. Either way, I was surprised that the way he condescended to her changed considerably when the seduction was over, though in retrospect it makes sense. On Alma’s side, there was a similar shift: she was far more welcoming of his insulting methods of flirting than I would expect from a self-respecting adult with a strong personality, and started rebelling when they settled into domesticity. Perhaps the domineering attitude of a handsome stranger showering her with attention was exciting at first, but when their relationship became routine, she quickly grew sick of being treated like a second class citizen in what has become her own home. (I wasn’t joking with the quote at the top of the review: it was my genuine and immediate impression that Alma goes along with the 342561 red flags exhibited during the very first day not because she’s a doormat but because she’s a freak.)

The love at first sight didn’t work for me, as well as the couple’s determination to stay together despite their incompatibility. I’m just not convinced that they actually love each other as entire human beings. They do love certain sides of each other. Reynolds loves the muse with the perfect measurements; the assistant totally devoted to him; the new woman (future) finally displacing his older sister (present) and mother (past) while, unlike them, also being his sexual partner. Alma loves the genius who makes her feel beautiful and important. They both love the persona the other assumes in a caretaking scenario. But is there a deeper connection? Do they actually love each other unconditionally, not just the aspects of each other that fulfill their needs? I’ve seen quotes in confirmation of that from PTA and Vicky Krieps — but the text itself provides no satisfactory evidence of that.

Obligatory comparisons with other films

I like to chain movies together because of themes or character dynamics they share. A couple of reviews for Crimes of the Future mentioned this film, and I decided to watch it next assuming that the similarities start and end with the relationship between an aging artist and a strong-willed younger woman. Turns out, these two films also make an interesting double feature because in some ways they’re an inverse of each other. Crimes of the Future and its main couple wear abnormality on their sleeve, but the central relationship is healthy and stable; Phantom Tread appears classy and family-friendly, hiding the more shocking aspects of the relationship beneath the luxurious surface. Both films are very sensual without the conventional sex scenes, but the approach is diametrically opposite: Crimes of the Future circumvents the content rating system, managing to put explicit scenes on screen just because they don’t contain specific banned body parts; Phantom Thread purposefully and conspicuously avoids showing any sex or nudity to preserve the aesthetic and make other scenes feel more charged. The protagonist’s old age is important in both: for Saul, it’s deteriorating health and conservatism towards newer ideologies and ways of interacting with and modifying one’s body; for Reynolds, it is the decades of habit and privilege making him internalize the belief that his own authority, taste, routines are something absolute and unquestionable.

A bigger surprise was the two films also shared the theme of food and eating. Crimes of the Future: eating as a fundamental bodily function, food as means of sustenance, and the politics of food; Phantom Thread: eating as pleasure, food as means of human connection, and the power dynamics of feeding and being fed. Both films go deeper than the surface: food is not just something that is served and tasted, but chewed, swallowed, and digested, which is not necessarily a smooth and uncomplicated process. Phantom Thread’s exploration of the food theme is probably the best one I’ve seen so far not just in film but in any media, and the only one I can think of where “food as love and sex” made sense for me.

Choosing The Favourite as the next film to watch after this one was a good choice too: they also had some things in common. There’s a young woman winning an older and more powerful person’s affection by taking care of them while they’re sick, there are toxic relationship, there’s even literal poison... The older parties are similarly spoiled and eccentric but very different in certain important ways, and the protagonists are even more alike.

People have mentioned this film’s similarities to Rebecca, which I haven’t read or watched; my own first thought was about Misery, which I also haven’t read or watched. Out of the films I’ve seen before, there’s Crimson Peak — someone made an entire Venn diagram for their similarities. I’ve also seen comparisons with a number of other films, mostly ones I haven’t seen. Is Phantom Thread more intertextual than the usual or is that just me?

#phantom thread #liveblogs and reviews #blah blah blah #maybe i should stop trying to write coherent reviews...#i wrote most of this right away but the task of making it readable has been weighing me down for months and drained so much energy from me

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purpletaecup · 4 years

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7 ☾ i loved you. i’m sorry.

warnings: depictions of panic attacks

notes: writing the end of this chapter made me cry t^t luv u guys, thank you for the support. i love writing this story so much! feel free to send an ask to the IFU universe characters or vent to me about them! also, there is a picture in here that i drew!!!! it’s not that great but I hope you guys like it :-)

word count: 4,471

“Who are you?”

Those words echo in Yoongi’s ear as if it was his final judgment from the king of hell. He staggered but held onto the edge of your hospital bed to keep from falling. He could only look at you in shock and silence while the doctor came up from behind him and examined you.

“Miss Kim, how are you feeling? Is there any pain?” The doctor asked.

You rubbed and blinked a couple of times. Everything was still a little blurry.

“M’head hurts and my body is so sore,” you reply. “Why am I here?”

“What’s the last thing you remember, Miss Kim?”

Rubbing your temples, you groaned in frustration, not remembering how you ended up in this hospital bed.

“I can’t remember. Everything’s really fuzzy right now.”

The doctor turns to Yoongi, who sat himself down on the chair further away from you.

“Do you recognize him?”

You looked at the man in the chair and examined him for a while. There’s a chill that runs through Yoongi’s body as he sees your eyes roam him from head to toe. He almost expects to see some kind of anger or resentment on your face, but receives nothing but confusion.

You turn back to the doctor shaking your head. He opens his mouth to say something but Yoongi beats him to it.

“It’s okay, doc, we can talk about that later, but is she okay? You said your head was hurting, right, Yn?” He says, looking back at you.

Cautiously, you nod at him before looking at the doctor again.

“It’s throbbing and it feels like there’s drums banging in my head.”

“This is all completely normal. You were in a pretty severe car accident and received a pretty worrisome head injury. You were unconscious for about five days, so your body has already started its healing process. In the coming weeks, you might experience some delayed symptoms related to the concussion you received.”

“What kind of symptoms? Is she going to be okay?” Though shocked as he was with your current predicament, Yoongi couldn’t help but worry even more.

“Mr. Min, if you would just let me continue, I can give you and Miss Yn all the answers you need. Because of the nature of the accident, she received a pretty bad head injury resulting in a concussion I believe to be grade II or III.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You asked.

“It’s just a way to classify the severity of the concussion you received. Since you were in a car accident, you sustained a lot of other injuries but nothing too severe like broken bones. Miraculously enough, you managed to be wheeled away with only lacerations, bruising and a head injury. You were unconscious for about five days and you’re exhibiting signs of amnesia along with blurriness and headaches. These are all signs of a grade II or III concussion, though we won’t know which one until after a few more days of monitoring. Either way, there is the possibility of delayed symptoms like headaches, nausea and imbalance. After we’ve monitored your brain activity and symptoms for a few days, we can determine the grade of concussion clearly and proceed with treatment if needed. I’m leaning a bit more towards a grade II because you’re still able to speak and understand in a normal manner, but the memory loss is worrisome so we’ll have to monitor that and see if it lasts for over 24 hours or not.”

You groaned and tried to sit up straighter, but your muscles, so sore and unused for days, were making it difficult. Yoongi, who had inched closer and closer to you while the doctor spoke, held your hand in one of his while the other helped push you to sit up more comfortably. You murmur a soft thanks in his direction.

“I still don’t understand. You’re saying that I have amnesia, but I feel like I remember everything I should. I know my name, my parent’s names, my friends and my family’s names.” You begin to explain, not really understanding the whole ‘amnesia’ thing.

“How old are you? And what year is it?” The doctor asked while scribbling on your chart.

“19, and it’s 2016.” As soon as those words came out of your mouth, Yoongi fell into a quiet shock once again. Not only had you not recognized him, he was completely erased from your memory. You two met when you were 19, and in your head, you were 19 and you had no idea who he was, so your memory must have conveniently stopped sometime before you met him. He almost scoffs at the irony of it all.

“Miss Kim, you’re 23. You just turned 23 two months ago and it’s currently 2020. Today is the eleventh of November.”

The gasp leaves your mouth before you realize it. Your shaky hands lift up to cover your mouth and you feel tears well up in your eyes from the impact of the doctor’s statement.

“What do you mean? How can I just lose four years in my memory?” Your voice cracks when you ask and through the tears and the shaky breaths, you feel the ghost of a hand on your back.

“That, we don’t know. We haven’t seen an amnesia case this severe in decades, but that’s why we’re going to be monitoring you. Amnesia in head injury patients is pretty unpredictable, but most people who experience amnesia usually only lose memories within the day or at most a week, but it usually never lasts for more than a couple of days. You losing four years of memories doesn’t essentially correlate to how long it will take to regain those memories. For all we know, you could get them back tonight, but like I said, it’s pretty unpredictable.”

It takes a moment for all of it to sink in and absorb. Okay, so you lost four years of memories, but you might regain them soon. Although it’s not a guarantee, it’s still a possibility. You wipe the tears and you steady your breath before turning to the doctor once again.

“What’s he got to do with all of this? I still don’t know who he is or why he’s here.” You ask while pointing to the man beside you.

The doctor looks at you, then looks at him as if expecting him to take the floor and explain things himself.

“I’m Min Yoongi.” He holds out his hand intending you shake yours. You lift your wired up hand to his and he encloses it gently. It’s warm.

“Okay, Min Yoongi, that doesn’t explain how I’m supposed to know you?” You question again, a little bit of attitude in your voice.

It’s silent for a moment. Sensing the tension, the doctor excuses himself, telling them that he’ll send some nurses to help with your headaches and soreness.

Yoongi’s grip tightens on your hand. He contemplates for a little while about how to explain who he was in your life and who you were in his. Can he say that you’re his wife? Will that make it easier for the both of you since you were pregnant? But that was a lie, because you were divorced.

And he had lied to you enough times during your marriage. He thinks it might be the time to be more truthful.

“We were together for four years.” He starts. You wriggle your hand out of his, feeling a little too warm.

“Ah, if we were together for four years, how come I don’t remember you?”

Yoongi thinks about how to answer this one. He hums for a couple of seconds before he asks, “well, in your head, when did you turn 19?”

It was your turn to let a “hmm” pass your lips this time.

“Last week!”

“Okay, so in your timeline, we would have met next week. Two weeks after your birthday, on September 24.”

You nod your head in understanding, but you wince pretty obviously right after. The bruises are aching and you think it’s because you sat up for too long. Yoongi puts his hand on your arm and guides you to lay down.

“Here, just lay down and I’ll sit right here and answer your questions, okay?” He reassures.

After laying down, you try to move your body to the side so you could face where he was sitting.

“So how come you’re here and not my family members?” You asked after a minute’s silence, trying to think of a question to ask. If baffled you that this man you don’t even remember is the only one visiting you in broad daylight after a severe car accident.

“Jin was here with me the day of your accident. He said he was going to take care of you, but he got called in for work and had to travel out of the country a couple of days ago.”

“What about my mom?”

“Actually, I’m not really sure. Jin told me that she was abroad.”

“So you’re the only one left. Must be important if you were in my emergency contacts.”

“I was the only emergency contact you had according to the nurses.”

At this moment, Yoongi looked at you with sad eyes, but you didn’t know why. It felt like it was penetrating you and a nagging voice in the back of your head told you to stop looking at him.

Eager to ease the tension, you ask how the two of you met. Yoongi rests his elbow on the arm rest of the chair, plopping his chin down on his palm.

“Well, I had a music video shoot on the same day as yours. You were doing a photoshoot, I think, and you were using the same set room as me. I went there early to talk to the directors, but you were in the middle of your shoot and I just stayed. I asked my manager to ask for your number and we started talking and then I asked you to be my girlfriend on Halloween at a costume party.” There was a smile on Yoongi’s face when he recalled that particular memory.

He had no recollection of whose party it was, but you two showed up in the best costumes you could muster. Lydia Deetz in her wedding dress and Beetlejuice. The party was fun and the two of you had spent the night in the garden of the venue, just laying down and admiring the stars on Halloween night. It was nearing midnight when the both of you heard a countdown coming from inside. Why there was a countdown for midnight on Halloween, neither of you had a clue, but he took it as a sign and as the grandfather clock chimed, he gave you a gentle kiss and asked (whispered) you to be his girlfriend.

He remembered your laughter from that night and it brought an even larger smile to his face.

You looked at him in awe, thinking his smile was simply breathtaking.

“So you fell in love with me at first sight, huh?” You asked teasingly.

Yoongi glared at you, but as soon as he spotted your little smirk, the glare melted away and a hesitant smile made its way on his face again.

“For your information, it was at first laugh.” He simply stated. At that, you gave a gentle smile and a quiet giggle into your hand.

In that moment, Yoongi was taken back to the early days of your relationship. The appearance of that gentle smile had catapulted him back to the happier days of your story. It was so different from you in the recent months. You, who had been so sad and exhausted and frustrated. Though pale and bruised and in a hospital bed, you looked much more youthful than before, as if you had reverted back to the person that was happiness personified.

“Right, okay. At first laugh. Never heard that before.”

“I’m serious. It was like hearing bells.”

“That doesn’t sound very appealing.”

“Good bells.”

You laughed again, a little scratchy this time. Yoongi handed you the glass of water on your bedside table.

“Okay, so you fell in love with me at first laugh, then what happened?” You asked, eager to find out about this story. At the moment, you really had no inkling of who this man was, but it intrigued you to hear your apparent love story. You loved a good love story and this one, yours, seemed to have a good start. Because you couldn’t recall it, hearing it from his mouth is like looking into your own love story from an outsider’s point of view.

Yoongi took the glass of water and placed it back on the table.

“Well, we got together obviously, and we were together for four years.”

“Past tense, so you’re an ex-boyfriend?” This was getting more interesting. You have always associated exes with heartbreak (at least the ones you remembered), so this was interesting. You must have been good friends after the breakup for him to be your emergency contact.

“Ex-husband, actually.”

Oh.

That stopped you in your tracks. Now, divorce was something you had never, ever thought about. Mentally, you were 19, and at 19, you were worried about your career. You had suffered your fair share of heartbreaks and cheating bastards in high school and swore off marriage until you got yourself together, so this revelation confused you a little bit. You two met when you were 19, but here you are at, apparently, 23 years old and you’re divorced. That’s actually… unbelievable.

“We started dating on Halloween technically, but I proposed in July and that’s when we agreed to celebrate our anniversaries even though that sounds kind of silly. You thought it would be cute to just have one single date to celebrate our anniversary. Something about Halloween being sacred to you.” Yoongi laughed a little nervously, eager to soften the mood just a little bit. He knows you don’t really remember, but it still feels strange to talk about your divorce.

“Wait, so break this down for me a little bit more. How long were we married for?”

“2 years. So I proposed the July after we started dating and then we got married a year later on the same date.”

“And when did we get divorced?”

Yoongi fiddled with his fingers a bit before answering, “ The end of September. We were drifting for some months already, so I think divorce was the best option for us.”

You nodded absentmindedly. It was a little strange to be here, in a hospital bed, listening to this man (who is apparently your ex-husband) talk about your divorce. You felt like you should be feeling something more than this, but all you can feel is some kind of nonchalance, like you were listening to a lecture on a subject you didn’t like. Still, this was your love life, something you treasured with all of your heart, and the news of this divorce with a man you can’t even remember is shocking but in a detached way, if that made sense.

“That makes sense. No one should stay in a marriage where the feelings aren’t there anymore.” You say slowly, silently, absorbing this whole situation.

From your peripheral, you see Yoongi just nod, not saying anything. The silence that befell the two of you was somewhat comfortable but solemn at the same time.

The silence was interrupted by murmurs coming from Yoongi.

“Don’t worry. Even though we’re not together, I’ll still take care of you. You don’t have any immediate family and I’m the only one you really know in this city. The least I can do is take care of you.”

You look at him and shake your head. The independent part of you wanted to deny that. Even though you were mentally 19, in actuality you were 23 and you knew how to take care of yourself.

“It’s fine, Yoongi. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”

That silences Yoongi for a bit. He remembers you saying that all the time, moreso during the time you decided to quit modelling. He was worried about you, but you always reassured him that there was nothing to worry about. You were a big girl. A woman. When these words came out of your mouth, it reminded him that although you didn’t remember much, you were still the woman he knew deep down.

Before he gets lost in his thoughts again, he lets out a small laugh.

“Yeah, I know you can, but you don’t even know where you live. Do you even remember how to drive? I remember you learned how to drive when you were 21.”

You furrow your brows, angry at his statements, but decide that you can’t refute since what he’s saying is completely true.

“Okay, valid. You can go home if you want, though. They said they were gonna keep me here for a couple of days, so you don’t have to come to the hospital until then, I guess. You look kind of rich… and famous, so you must be busy all the time.”

“I’m my own boss, so I can take my own time off, but I do need to go to the company to settle some things before you get discharged.”

As he talked, your eyes become droopy and were slow to blink.

“Yn, are you okay?” Yoongi asks as he moves closer to your face to examine you. Instinctively, you move back a little, but you’re still close enough to see his eyes up close. You decide to close your eyes.

You mumble a little. “Mhm, just sleepy. Head still hurts.”

Yoongi pulls the blanket up to cover up to your neck and fixes your hair so that it’s not in your face. The intimacy is strange, but not unwelcome, you think.

“Kay, just go back to sleep. I’ll go talk to your doctor then I’m going to the company, okay? I’ll be back tomorrow to give you some of your necessities.” He whispers.

You could barely hear him, but you nod anyways. The disappearance of his warm hand left a cold, empty feeling. Soon enough, you drifted off into sleep.

☽

Yoongi takes one last look at your sleepy form before he quietly leaves the room. He sees your doctor from the corner of his eye and walks up to him. Before he could ask anything, the doctor tells him that they have the results from a scan taken the day prior.

“There seems to be no traumatic damage to the brain, so we have high hopes about a smooth journey to recovery. Of course, she is pregnant, so that might make things a bit more delicate, but nothing that is too difficult to adjust to. She’s right in the middle of her first trimester, so you both really need to be careful. It’s already a miracle that the fetus survived. The rest is up to you guys.”

“And what about the amnesia?”

“We’re still confused about the memory loss. As I mentioned before, the last case of amnesia that was that severe was such a long time ago, and there was no explanation or pattern that was found in the brain to justify the timeline of the memory loss. 4 years is a really long time. We believe she might be more sensitive due to having such a huge gap in her memory. We don’t know what could trigger memories or how she would react to them, but you and the rest of her family should come up with things or events to stimulate her brain activity and remind her of some of the memories that she lost.”

“That sounds reasonable. I don’t want to overwhelm her too much, so I held back a lot when I was talking to her today. If it’s possible, can we hold off on telling her about her pregnancy? At least until I come back and I can tell her myself. I tried to take the day off today, but I have to deal with the company first so I can be here when she’s discharged.” Yoongi explained.

The doctor looked nervous at first, but thought about it for a while.

“Yes, I think that might be for the best. Waking up in an unfamiliar place with no memories of the past four years can be very overwhelming so it might be easier to ease her into the news. Thank you Mr. Min, we’ll call you when there’s news.” The doctor says before holding his hand out for a handshake.

Yoongi let out a small smile as he shook the doctor’s hand.

“Yes, please let me know if anything happens and if her situation changes. I’ll be back tomorrow to drop off a new cellphone for her so it’s easier to contact people. I’ll see you then, doc. Thank you so much for your hard work.” Yoongi couldn’t help but praise him for being such a helpful person during a difficult time for both him and you.

“It’s no problem at all, Mr. Min. It makes me happy to see how devoted you are in taking care of your wife and future child.” The doctor smiles at him and pats his shoulder roughly before he walks away whistling.

Yoongi only stared at his back as he walked away from him. Devotion. That wasn’t something he was used to.

☽

He’d gone home that night and contemplated the strange encounter that you both had today. The initial shock he received when realizing that you couldn’t recognize him, worse yet remember him, was swept away quickly by your questions about your relationship with him. As the night ended and he tucked himself into his bed, he couldn’t stop thinking about your conversation today.

It was the most civil conversation you’ve had since before the divorce. It was basically the only conversation you’ve had since the divorce. The more he thought about it, the more he zoned out of the reality in front of it. He thought about your teasing smile when you asked if he fell in love with you at first sight. He thought about your laugh, like bells, when he corrected you and said it was love at first laugh. It was like the fates turned back time to when you two first met. It was like he was seeing you for the first time again.

The you from today was such a stark contrast from the you that Yoongi had lived with in the months leading up to your divorce. Being reminded of what you were like back then and comparing it to the person you turned into after 4 years together made his heart beat faster. He didn’t know what it was but thinking about how you changed, how you grew, made him nervous. These weren’t fluffy feelings of romance or admiration. It seemed to be more like fear. He looked down at his hands and realized that they were shaking. As the shaking continued, he noticed his breathing getting shorter and shorter. He didn’t know what was happening but having these thoughts made him feel so scared.

The tears escaped his eyes before he even realized he was crying. He had never experienced this before. His heart was beating so fast and he couldn’t stop shaking or crying but all he could focus on was your soft smile today and every time he saw it in his head, it crumbled into the 23 year old you who sobbed into her hands in front of him. He just kept thinking and thinking and thinking and it made him cry into his palms more and more. Behind his closed eyes were images of the two of you through the years and the way you had changed from a beautiful, happy person who could probably make the sun and all the planets stop into a sad, quiet, reserved woman who preferred to stay at home and be alone with your paper and your words.

Did he do that? Did he do that to you? Did he make you that sad? Was it his fault that you pulled away from him? Was it his fault that you two fell apart as catastrophically as you fell in love? Was he the reason for your accident?

No, no, no, no. He cried and cried and couldn’t breathe. I didn’t do that, I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t mean to do that. I loved you. I loved you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

At the same time, you woke up in your hospital bed, shocked by a nightmare that eventually dulled and became forgotten as soon as you woke. You felt like there was something important that the dream told you, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Instead of trying to remember, you looked up at the ceiling of your hospital room and contemplated on your strange encounter with your so-called ex-husband today. Mentions of the divorce were vague, so you didn’t focus on it much. He told you a love story that you wouldn’t have believed if you hadn’t lost your memories. You smiled as you remembered that way he told you he fell in love at first laugh. There was a twinkle in his eye when he said that, but you still noticed a twinge of sadness and regret behind it all.

“For your information, it was at first laugh.”

You closed your eyes and tried so hard to remember anything, just the smallest thing, to confirm whatever Yoongi had told you, but nothing came to you except for a barrage of tears that was so sudden it shocked you. You tried to stop crying, but you couldn’t. You tried to laugh but it only ended in broken sobs. There was a hurt in your chest that you couldn’t precisely describe. It was sharp, and it hurt your heart, like it was breaking little by little. It wasn’t happiness. Not at all. It felt like a sadness that you hadn’t ever felt before (or at least your 19 year old self), but you couldn’t possibly remember why you felt like this. The tears kept coming and coming and it frustrated you so much that you didn’t know why you were crying like this. You just wanted to remember something about your marriage, your relationship, and Min Yoongi. You couldn’t understand why you were feeling like this.

Of course, though the memory is lost, the hurt and sorrow that your heart had gone through couldn’t be forgotten. At least not by your body. It was a sadness so deep in your bones that not even the loss of the memories associated with this hurt could erase it.

☽

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taglist 1: @victoriedulce @yoongistruth @rebeccawoodrow @moon-asia @koochiekoo @sonderkook @fangirling-gallifreyan @teresaisla @veronawrites @haeilove @rjsmochii @mama-m0chi @agustd-2020 @imluckybitches @dreamer95 @coldfreakeggsexpert @rjsmochii @loveyoongles @selfproducingfanfictionauthor @mr-robot-x

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alecmagnuslwb · 3 years

Text

Marriage is a Contract and My Signature is Unreadable

Read on AO3

John’s never seen a bride wear fishnets with their stunning white dress, but Dinah Lance is pulling it off somehow. Admittedly though John hasn’t seen that many brides that weren’t ghosts or the earthly demonic embodiment of some sort of hell beastie so maybe his experience in weddings and bridal wear is a bit skewed.

Of course he’s also a bit skewed because in his eyes no one at this wedding, not even the bride no disrespect to the woman who’s by far one of the few supers he can truly say he likes, is as stunning as his date. Zatanna sits beside him at their table, the reception in full swing now, her legs crossed the deep navy-blue asymmetrical dress she’s wearing showing off a tantalizing bit of her leg. Her tattoo, the twin to his peeks out from the front of the dress right next to the silver lining at the edges where the dress straps around her neck. She’s a fucking vision his Zatanna.

“I can’t believe they finally did it,” Zatanna says gliding her silver French tipped nails with little crescent moons on them along her glass of champagne. “I really thought Lois and Clark would be the only ones to take the plunge.”

Supers aren’t known for tying the knot, their world is so complicated and their relationships so wild they never find the time to actually get around to it. The fact that Dinah and Oliver managed to not only successfully get engaged, but plan a real wedding and have the ceremony without any major incidents happening in the middle is a miracle if John’s ever actually seen one.

“Who do you think’ll be next?” John says surveying the room. Every hero he’s ever met and ever butted heads with is here out of costume and all dressed up to the nines. There’s a congregation of Green Lantern’s by the bar, Superman is on the dance floor poorly attempting to floss as Nightwing laughs his fine ass off at him, the Flash is somehow dancing with his girlfriend and eating every item on the buffet simultaneously. “Seems like two in a row will make a domino effect, yeah?”

Zatanna hums in thought her piercing blue eyes with the glittery navy blue and silver eyeliner around them shimmering in the light as she tilts her head in thought. She carefully scratches at the space beside the cluster of tiny rhinestones artfully placed around her right eyebrow and settles her eyes to a table across the room with a smile.

“Wally and Linda for sure,” she says tilting her head their direction. John swivels to look at them. Unlike Barry who’s still zooming back and forth from Iris to the buffet, Wally is wholly engrossed in every movement Linda makes as she talks rapidly her hands moving all about as she speaks to Mia Dearden on the other side of the table. That is a man wholly in love, enraptured by the woman he gets to call his own. John understands the sentiment as he looks back to Zatanna her dark blue painted lips still resting in a beautiful smile.

“What if it was us?” John asks leaning in closer to her a wicked smile on his face.

Zatanna snorts, a harsh indelicate thing that on anyone else would be unattractive.

“Aww, love you too, Zee,” John says faux offended falling back against his chair. He knew it was an absurd suggestion the moment he said it.

“I’m sorry, you know I love you,” she says holding up a hand attempting to hide her laughter. “It’s just look at us, we’re coming up on our first and only three-year anniversary. We’re not exactly known for being good at this.”

It’s a valid point. Despite the fact they have technically been together for over a decade they’ve gone through their fair share of ups and downs, break ups and make ups and even a few trips to hell and literal deaths. John has screwed up more times than he can count and even Zatanna has bungled it once or twice. Complicated has at almost all times been their relationship status, but the past three years, ever since John got his head out of his ass and finally decided to sort out this one particular aspect of his life they’ve been good, solid.

“Okay, true, but you’re stuck with me and we can’t act like there aren’t benefits to the whole marriage sham,” he says stretching his arms behind his head.

“It’s extremely comforting you called it a sham,” Zatanna says giving him a fondly exasperated look. “But you know maybe you’re right the tax incentives alone are a real benefit.”

“Now, the tax incentives would be appealing if I had ever in my life filed my taxes,” John says with a laugh.

“You’ve never filed taxes?” Zatanna says with a slightly startled look.

John just shrugs tossing back the remainder of his champagne. “It’s not like I’ve ever had any real upstanding type of job that would require me to fill out a W4 or whatever.”

“It’s a W2,” Zatanna corrects. “And John you live with me, our landlord made me put your name on the lease because he saw you there so much. You could totally get caught.”

“Eh, it’ll be fine,” John says with an unconcerned wave of his hand. “The fact that I’m not technically a citizen of this country is probably a bigger issue than the tax thing anyway.”

“John!” Zatanna exclaims with a laugh.

“What? You can’t have thought I actually went to a baseball park and held my hands up and did the national anthem or whatever,” he says kicking his feet up on the empty chair next to him.

“Clearly you haven’t considering that’s not at all how citizenship works,” Zatanna chuckles. “But hey there’s a potential benefit of marriage for us, citizenship.”

“Ah the romance of marrying not for love, but so the government pricks don’t send your ass packing,” John reaches out a hand tangling his fingers with Zatanna’s on the table his thumb running small circles into her hand.

Zatanna hums. “I guess lack of romance aside it wouldn’t matter since I can always just portal you back into the country on a whim anyways.”

John nods in agreement trying to come up with another benefit they might be able to actually take advantage of. “You couldn’t testify against me in court, that could be incredibly useful down the line.”

Zatanna raises one jeweled eyebrow, “Is there a crime you’ve committed lately you’ve neglected to tell me about?”

John thinks for a moment genuinely scanning his memories in case there is something he forgot to tell her about. “No,” he settles on confidently. He’s pretty sure at least. “I’m just thinking in general considering my track record in the past.”

Zatanna pats the top of his hand with a smile. “As if any prison could hold you long enough for me to even be asked a single question.”

John just laughs again, “Alright so maybe there aren’t that many marital benefits for us to take advantage of then.”

“No parents to satisfy,” Zatanna sighs. “And of course making medical decisions for one another doesn’t really matter when you use magic and superhero doctors that definitely don’t accept any sort of co-pay,” she adds on with a contemplative bite of her lip.

“Half your friends hate me,” John says thoughtfully with a chuckle.

“And half your friends are dead,” Zatanna says ruefully tapping a nail to her chin. “The wedding party would be abysmally uneven.”

“I haven’t bought a new tie in years,” John says tugging at the red thing around his neck. He looks hilariously basic compared to Zatanna’s ensemble essentially wearing what he wears any given day of the week the only difference being Zatanna had forced him into a subtly lace patterned black jacket for a change and repainted his chipped nails for the first time in two weeks. “It’d make the pictures look horribly out of place.”

“Plus let’s be real I’m a show woman, I’d probably hate having to share the spotlight with you for one day,” Zatanna smiles teasingly. John smiles back shifting so that he’s scooting his chair closer to hers. He lifts a hand to her face twisting a long dark hair that’s slipped from her twisty updo held in place by two sharp silver hair pins with crescent moons at the end to match her nails and tucking it back behind her ear.

“So, basically there’s not a benefit in this world or a thing that would change if we got married,” John says letting the silky hair go.

“The only thing I can think of is that I like shiny jewelry and you look hot when you wear silver rings,” Zatanna says reaching back and pulling the two pins from her hair letting it all fall across her shoulders, the one stand out streak of navy blue appearing as it falls.

“And we can buy each other jewelry anytime without a reason,” he says brushing the bit of hair that’s fallen into her eyes away.

Zatanna smiles at him once before standing holding out a hand that he instantly takes. She guides him to the dance floor twining her fingers behind his head slowly.

They sway slowly to some sappy love song John vaguely recognizes their eyes locked on one another.

“You know,” she says after a while her fingers pulling through the hair that’s getting a bit too long at the base of his neck. “Just because I don’t want to get married doesn’t mean I don’t want you for as long as I can have you, right?”

He does know that. It’s inexplicable to him why someone as bright and vibrant and good as her wants him, but she does and he intends to keep it that way till the demons or the cigarettes kill him.

“I know. I’m happy how we are, knowing us, and by us I mean me, marriage would end up mucking everything up anyways,” he says pulling her in closer his hands moving from their grip on her waist to the exposed small of her back. “We can just keep going to everyone else’s weddings and raiding their open bars.”

Zatanna laughs then leans up kissing him once soft and slow not even smudging her lipstick in the slightest. She stays close when she pulls back resting her head on his chest as they continue to sway.

“We really need to get your name off of my lease though, I don’t need the government showing up and trying to audit me,” she says softly. “I’d be a nightmare for Mistress of Magic brand.”

John laughs loud and bright leaning his head down to kiss her once atop the head already planning a minor break in to the landlord’s apartment. It’ll be okay if he gets caught, married or not he knows she won’t testify against him.

#my fic #johnzee #john constantine #zatanna zatara #writersmonth2021

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isthisthingeven0n · 4 years

Text

starting over, with you : s.r

after everything you went through with spencer, life decided to give you another shot. and this time, neither of you took the opportunity for granted. (3.5K)

we’re finally here, the epilogue to this little series. thank you for reading and supporting it. i hope you like the ending as much as i enjoyed writing it.

knowing you / forgetting you / remembering you / with or without you / starting over, with you

“She truly is just wonderful,” Maggie happily sighs as she rests her head in her hands, staring out dreamingly to the front door whilst you clean the spout of the steamer. “what did I do to find someone so just,” Maggie trails off and you quickly notice from the corner of your eye her standing up straighter.

Following her line of vision, you clear your throat as the woman in question walks in. Her blonde hair flows behind her shoulders as she slips her jacket off, resting it over her tote bag.

“Hey, sunshine.” She beams to Maggie who suddenly has lost the ability to speak. “Hey, Y/n.” She waves over to you as Maggie chuckles under her breath nervously.

Moving to stand beside Maggie, you nudge her playfully. “Use your words Mags,” You mutter.

“Yeah, I know that,” Maggie retorts as she focuses on the woman she’s been seeing, Delilah, for the past few weeks. “what can I get for you, D?”

Raising your eyebrows, you just catch the smirk on Maggie’s lips before you busy yourself once again, not wanting to get involved.

Slipping aside from the counter you pick up two plates and the muffin you kept from this morning. “So, this is the girl then?” Sitting down opposite him, you can’t help but smile at the excitement in his gaze as he focuses on you.

“That’s Delilah,” You tell him, passing him a plate as you split the muffin in half. “you were in such a rush this morning I thought I’d keep this as a treat when you finished.”

Smiling brightly at the muffin in front of him, he shifts for a moment before taking a bite. “Nothing beats your blueberry muffins. Did you know that blueberries are filled with antioxidants and phytoflavinoids. They’re a top choice for doctors and nutritionists as they also contain high levels of potassium and vitamin c.”

Chuckling under your breath, you poke your half of the muffin with your knife. “I don’t think it counts as much once they’ve been baked though, Spence.” You state, glancing up as Spencer chews another piece of muffin, his eyes not leaving yours.

“True, but you’re a benefit of these muffins too.” Spencer mutters, tearing his eyes from you as your lips part, humour filling the space around you.

“Did you just try and use a line on me?” You remark as Spencer shakes his head profusely. “Because if so, it was shocking.”

Spencer shyly smiles up at you as a small laugh leaves his lips. “Well, something worked clearly.” He reaches out, taking your hand in his just as Maggie rushes over to you.

“Sorry to interrupt lovebirds, but we’re out of pumpkin spice syrup.” Maggie sighs heavily, focusing on you with endless apologies in written across her expression.

Taking your hand from Spencer’s, you rise to your feet. “If you’re gone before I get back, I’ll meet you at mine?” You ask as you rest your hand on Spencer’s shoulder.

“I’ll wait, Y/n.” Spencer tells you as he turns his head, kissing your hand gently before you follow behind Maggie. “Don’t you worry.”

You could already see kids rushing around in various costumes as parents ran frantically behind them. Giggles of excitement and evident sugar rushes fill the air as brown and orange leaves coat the ground.

Leaning behind the counter the all-consuming scents of cinnamon, hazelnut and pumpkin spice filled your nostrils, acquainted by the occasional breeze of fresh air whenever a customer entered or departed.

Halloween always came around too quickly as you busied yourself with seasonal treats and limited edition beverages that brought new customers in every year. Yet, this year it was different. Usually, you’d spend the holiday working through the evening and spend time with Gary or your friends. It was always a quieter holiday compared to others, but this year things weren’t going to be the same.

“Come on, you have to tell me what your costume is.” Maggie practically begs you as you shake your head once again.

“It’s a secret, Mags.” You remind her for the twelfth time this week. “Besides, Spencer picked it out.”

A loud groan escapes Maggie's lips as you glance over your shoulder as she crosses her arms. “That means it’s going to be all nerdy and not slutty.” She rolls her eyes, watching as you nod along, knowing it’s true.

“There’s some slutty element to it.” You shrug a shoulder, trying to convince yourself moreso than Maggie. “I personally love it,” You comment under your breath before returning to work in the hope of distracting your mind a bit longer.

“Are you nervous at all?” Gary emerges from the far side of the cafe, his left arm still trembling as he grips onto a tray tightly.

Looking between them both, you roll your eyes. “You two trying to push my buttons tonight?” You feign anger as Gary shakes his head whilst Maggie nods. “Of course I’m nervous, I’m shitting myself!” A laugh escapes your lips involuntarily as you lean against the counter with your back turned to the entrance. “This is my chance to make a good impression on the people who pretty much watched me for months whilst Spencer was,” You trail off, it’s still something you both struggle to openly discuss.

Maggie’s eyes dart over to the open doorway, Spencer standing proudly as he removes his purple scarf, his wild curls fluffing up outwards. “Y/n,” Maggie tries to interrupt, but you carry on regardless.

“It’s just, I really care about him, I, I think I might be in love with him.” You finish as a light sound follows as a smile graces your lips.

Biting his lower lip, Spencer steps forward whilst you remain oblivious to his presence. “I always thought I’d be the first to say it,” Spencer can’t help himself as you whip your head around like a deer caught in headlights. “shall we Miss Y/L/N?”

Stuttering silently as you focus on his hazel eyes, you feel a gentle nudge from Maggie as you mumble in agreement.

“Wow, this isn’t at all awkward.” Maggie jokes, causing Gary to give her a fatherly look as you move out from the counter, removing your apron and throw it back in Maggie’s general direction.

“Yes,” The word barely leaves your lips as you walk closer toward him, taking his hand as he guides you towards the exit.

Quickly you glance over your shoulder, receiving thumbs up from both Maggie and Gary before you step out into the Autumnal breeze, wishing you had brought another layer with you.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Spencer asks as he struggles to hide his smile, but he can sense your worries as you focus on the browning leaves as you shuffle down the street.

“I didn’t intend on you hearing that,” You admit shyly as Spencer’s grip on your hand loosens. “I mean, sorry, that sounds dreadful.” You force a laugh, looking up as Spencer keeps his eyes fixated on the street ahead, knowing there are two hundred more steps to take until you reach your car around the corner beside the lamp post with the missing cat poster that’s faded entirely.

“It’s okay.” Spencer mutters, but it doesn’t take a profiler to know he doesn’t mean it.

Pausing, you take a hold of his arm, causing Spencer to turn around as his long legs guide him back to face you.

“It’s not okay, Spencer.” You huff as you sigh into your hands, oblivious to the loving way Spencer is looking at you. Despite having barely made it back in time for Halloween and sleeping on the jet, Spencer couldn’t have been happier to walk in at that precise moment.

Taking your hands from your face, Spencer brushes his fingers across your cheek. “It is, Y/n.” He hushes you, his hand now cupping your cheek. “Because I think, no, I know that I am in love with you too.”

“Wait, you do?” Your immediate reaction is to deny it, but as Spencer dips his head closer towards yours and his lips brush against your skin, you listen to him mutter a simple yes before kissing you affectionately.

Leaning into his embrace, you deepen the kiss, only breaking as the sound of children giggling increases from down the street.

“Ew, they’re kissing!” One child calls out and you shyly bury your face into Spencer’s chest, hiding behind his scarf as you feel the vibrations of his laughter.

His hand rises to rest on your back. “They’re gone, Y/n.” Spencer mutters to you as you step backwards, trying to suppress the heat rising through your body as you carry on walking to your car as if nothing had happened.

“Oh my god,” Penelope squeals as she opens her front door, clad in pumpkin dress with her mouth ajar as you stand besides Spencer who is unable to stop his smile from growing. “you look amazing!”

Looking up at Spencer you can’t help but laugh as butterflies flutter around in your stomach, even after all this time he still can muster this effect on you.

You have to admit, despite your initial uncertainties about the costumes Spencer suggested they have turned out better than you envisioned.

“And Y/n, you look well,” Penelope stumbles over her words as she brings you into a tight hug. “and I, I want to apologise about well,” She looks up to Spencer and back to you.

“It’s all good, Penelope.” You tell her as she reaches for your hand, her eyes softening. “I should thank you really, I mean, without you I don’t think we’d be here.” You admit as Spencer wraps his arm around your waist, and it’s enough for Penelope to lose her mind as she sighs happily.

“Come on in lovebirds, god.” She huffs as you both walk in and pause as several pairs of eyes greet you.

“I have to say, it’s hard to find profilers intimidating when they’re all dressed up for a Halloween party.” You admit, and Spencer chuckles, nodding along as he pushes his goggles further up from his forehead.

The first to step forward is a blonde woman wearing a Super Woman costume. “Hi, I’m-”

“JJ?” You ask as she nods, glancing up to Spencer as your smile brightens. “I’ve heard so much about you! Well, I’ve heard a lot about everyone, but you’re Henry’s Mom!” You happily tell JJ who warms to you instantly, having only ever seen footage of you previously down in the dumps and unsure of everything.

Instantly, you are swept away by the women of the BAU, leaving Spencer watching in awe as Luke pats his shoulder. “You really got her to agree to this?” Luke motions to Spencer’s outfit.

“It was the first movie we watched together,” Spencer states. “and she makes a cute Marty.” Spencer half-smiles as he lip-reads your conversation with Emily and JJ.

“He really got you to dress as Marty Mcfly?” Emily chuckles into her drink as you nod along, taking a sip of the concoction Penelope created before everyone arrived.

“I’m not sure if I like it or if it’s the number of chemicals I’ve inhaled making Spencer’s hair white with dry shampoo.” You joke, and the sound of laughter spreads through the group as you glance over your shoulder, watching as Spencer is sat with Rossi and Luke, flashing you a reassuring smile.

“Gives you an idea on how he’ll look in the future.” Penelope nudges you, and JJ rolls her eyes.

“A mad scientist sounds about right.” You nod in agreement. “So, what’s it like, on the field? Spencer only tells me so much, but I’d love to hear more from you guys.”

Rossi interrupts your conversation shortly after Emily explained the latest mission and how she managed to get the cut across her forehead which conveniently was covered by her fringe.

“May I?” Rossi asks as he holds out a glass of wine to you, which you gladly accept.

Walking with Rossi, you follow him into the kitchen as you lean against the counter, feeling somewhat at home here as the music plays faintly in Penelope’s living room.

“You know, when Spencer was inside I heard your name mentioned countless times.” Rossi begins.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” You force yourself to joke, and Rossi senses the change in your stance as you hide your left hand in the pocket of your bodywarmer, picking at the tissue buried inside.

Rossi shakes his head. “No need to apologise. It’s never an easy thing to talk about, but we both know Reid well enough to know he can talk for days about anything and everything, but often miss the most important thing.”

You nod along with Rossi as you take a sip of your drink as a temporary distraction.

“Do you talk about it? What happened when Spencer was inside?” Rossi delves deeper, knowing the answer before you shake your head. “Something changed in him, but what didn’t change was his determination paired with his intelligence and though he can be an ass about it, he often is right about things.” Rossi chuckles to himself. “I listened to everyone talking about this girl in a cafe for months before Spencer went away, waiting for him to make a move.”

Listening intently, these were details no one had ever shared. This was the perspective you were missing in your story.

“Penelope offered countless times to march in and talk to you, but an old friend, Morgan, refused to let that happen.” Rossi sighs, remembering it like it were yesterday. “And he told us on the flight back to Quantico that he was going to see if you were open that evening and ask you on a date.” Rossi trails off, not needing to fill you in on the rest of the story.

“And he did.” You finish. “What was it like, knowing he was in there all that time?”

Your eyes follow Rossi’s as he looks out into the living room where Spencer is lost in conversation with JJ. “Difficult, knowing he was in there for something he wouldn’t have ever done. We all worked tirelessly, trying to find a way to get him out.” Rossi explains as he places his glass down on the counter, finding a spot amongst Penelope’s various trinkets. “Do you wish you knew? If you could go back?”

“That’s the million-dollar question.” You huff as you finish the last of your wine. “I don’t think I would, no.” You reason, thinking back on the heartache you went through, the unknown reason Spencer never called you. “It hurt, and I think everyone here knows that firsthand, but I don’t think I would’ve forgiven him if I knew without the full story that was to follow.”

A smile forms on Rossi’s face as he steps forward and kisses both your cheeks. “I can see why he’s so fond of you.” He pats your arm, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a moment before you step out, resuming the evening with everyone.

Hearty laughter echoes throughout the apartment as the hours roll on. Children have long gone home and have dealt with their sugar crashes as the adults roam the streets in search of a very different kind of candy.

Leaning against Penelope’s balcony, you welcome the fresh air as you run your fingers through your hair, thankful for the warmth the costume provides unlike the girls below.

The sound of the door opening and closing catches your attention as Spencer stands beside you, his arms resting on the railing as he looks out at the city below and the drunken chatter climbing up the walls of buildings.

“Did you know Halloween is one of the more dangerous holidays?” Spencer asks, and you raise a brow to him as his smile widens before he carries on. “Between 2009 and 2013 the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration reported 40% of deaths were caused by drivers who were intoxicated from 7 pm to around 1 am.”

“Cheerful, Spence.” You mutter as a chill spreads through you once more.

“Here,” Spencer speaks up, wrapping his arm around you as he kisses the top of your head as you watch girls stumble over their heels as they yell for one another. “I’m glad you came tonight.”

Glancing up to Spencer, you push his goggles further up onto his partially white hair. “Oh yeah?” You tease, something you can’t help but do as Spencer nods.

Spencer watches as you rest your head against his shoulder, your thoughts clearly elsewhere as you hum contently.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Interrupting your daydreams, you straighten up.

“When did you know that you loved me?” You ask the question that’s been circling in your thoughts all evening.

Pausing for a moment, Spencer turns to face you, his eyes darting over to the balcony doors as everyone remains occupied.

“Truthfully, Y/n,” Spencer starts as he exhales shakily, something you weren’t anticipating. “the night you came over and wanted to give us a go.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, that night was filled with mixed emotions.

* that night *

You weren’t sure how your feet had guided you to his front door, but here you were.

Crumbling the piece of paper back into your pocket, you force back any worries as you knock on his front door and step back, preparing yourself to turn back and run if necessary.

Yet, the door swung open, revealing Spencer in comfortable attire as he tiredly rubs his eyes before focusing on the figure before him.

“Y/n?” He mutters, shocked to see you after how you dismissed him days prior. “What’re you doing here? I mean, how did you get my,”

“Penelope.” You tell him, cutting him off as he nods, who else could it have been?

Silence settles over you both as neither of you are sure what to say. On your drive over, you had a vague plan in place, an idea of what you want to say. Yet, standing in front of Spencer up close, the stubble lining his jaw and above his lip, you were lost for words all over again.

“Would you like to come in?” Spencer steps aside from his front door, revealing his slightly messy apartment as books are scattered across the floor.

“Okay.” You force confidence to strive through your voice as you step inside, your eyes wandering over his vast library as the front door closes behind you. “What I said the other night,”

“Was perfectly valid.” Spencer comments, holding his hands up before resting them in his pockets.

You suppress your sigh as you focus on anything but him and your eyes lock on a beaten copy of a book in front of your feet, ‘The Narrative of John Smith.’

“I heard you, but I wasn’t truly listening. I mean, it was a lot to take on board.” A short laugh leaves your lips as Spencer nods. “If you’ll let me, I’d like to hear about it, all of it.”

Lifting your head up, you see Spencer focusing on you with a perplexed look crossing his gaze. “But, why? You made it clear that night that you didn’t want to see me again.” Spencer reasons, fighting against his heart as it yells for him to shut up.

“I don’t know.” You admit, lifting your arms up as you sigh. “I just, for peace of mind, please? I waited three months to hear from you, and now I have I, I don’t want to just let it go.”

Stepping closer, Spencer hesitantly reaches out for your hand and squeezes it lightly. “Okay.” He whispers before guiding you to his sofa. “Well, I guess I’ll start after you drove off.”

Looking in awe at your boyfriend, you can’t help but notice how he retreats into himself after his statement.

“I just knew if you were willing to give me a chance after all of that, after listening to my story I wasn’t just interested in you, Y/n. I knew I loved you.” Spencer tells you as you nudge closer into his embrace, rising on your tiptoes.

“Want to know a secret, Spence?” You whisper into his lips. “I knew I loved you the moment you opened the door.” You chuckle, closing the distance between your lips as you kiss him, only to be interrupted as the doors slide open.

“Love birds, come on we’re about to play say it or shot it!” Penelope calls out as Spencer’s cheeks burn up and his goggles fall down onto his face.

Chuckling to yourself you force his goggles back up. “Shall we?” You ask, stepping forward as Spencer nods, taking your hand and following you back inside to join everyone else.

We must develop and maintain the capacity to forgive. He who is devoid of the power to forgive is devoid of the power to love. There is some good in the worst of us and some evil in the best of us. When we discover this, we are less prone to hate our enemies. - Martin Luther King Jr.

The end.

TAGLIST (for this mini series) :

@koc-help @bellomi-clarke @castbyfox @http-cherries @easygoingtheatre @tomorrowmeansoportunities @rainsong01 @rexorangecouny @radtwinkie @eldahae @l0ve-0f-my-life

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longitudinalwaveme · 3 years

Text

Arkham Files: The Top

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Roscoe Dillon, also known as the Top. Patient suffers from Bipolar Disorder, type one, and is on the autism spectrum. Session One. Good day, Mr. Dillon.

The Top: I am not autistic, Doctor Hugo Strange.

Hugo Strange: Mr. Dillon, the psychologist at Iron Heights has tested you for the condition multiple times, and the results are always consistent with your being on the autism spectrum. What’s more, the psychological tests we gave to you upon your arrival to Arkham Asylum also suggest that you are, indeed, autistic.

The Top: I do not care what that quack at Iron Heights says, Doctor Hugo Strange. I am not intellectually subnormal.

Hugo Strange: Mr. Dillon, being on the autism spectrum has nothing to do with your level of intelligence. It simply means that you have difficulty in understanding social cues.

The Top: In my experience, it is the world that has trouble understanding me, not the other way around. I do not understand why everyone believes that I am odd because I enjoy educating them about tops. Tops are fascinating; certainly much more so than sports or beer or whatever else it is that so-called “normal” people enjoy.

Hugo Strange: Tops?

The Top: Yes, tops. You know, Doctor Hugo Strange, the basic principles involved in the spinning of a top are also those used in gyroscopes, guided missile systems, and the gyro stabilizers in ocean liners. Tops are amazing!

Hugo Strange: Tops?

The Top: Yes, Doctor Hugo Strange. Tops!

Hugo Strange: Tops? As in, the children’s toy?

The Top: Is there something wrong with your hearing, Doctor Hugo Strange?

Hugo Strange: Do you mean to tell me that, in calling yourself the Top, you are not making a claim as to your superiority, but rather making a reference to a toy?

The Top: Actually, Doctor Hugo Strange, I am doing both. I am both a living top and at the top of my profession. My costume has stripes on it so that I may better emulate a top when I spin.

Hugo Strange: Your costume is intended to make you look like a giant top?

The Top: It is, Doctor Hugo Strange. Why?

Hugo Strange: Well, that certainly explains its...unusual appearance.

The Top: (Offended) My costume is no more unusual than that of the Trickster or the Mirror Master, Doctor Hugo Strange.

Hugo Strange: I didn’t say that it was, Mr. Dillon.

The Top: Good. (Pause) Now, Doctor Hugo Strange, would you care to explain why I was transported to an institution a thousand miles away from my base of operations upon my most recent arrest?

Hugo Strange: I wish I knew myself, Mr. Dillon. The workings of the judicial system as it regards the costumed population never cease to bewilder me. However, I must say that I am glad to have you here, Mr. Dillon. You are clearly mentally ill, and Iron Heights clearly has made no progress in treating your condition.

The Top: I am not mentally ill, Doctor Hugo Strange!

Hugo Strange: Mr. Dillon, mental illness is not a sign of a moral or intellectual deficit. It simply means that your brain has become diseased, just as any other part of your body might.

The Top: Nevertheless, I maintain that I am not mentally ill, Doctor Hugo Strange.

Doctor Strange: According to your record, when you first became the Top, you threatened to blow up half the world with a, quote, “atomic grenade” if all the governments of the world did not acknowledge you as the ruler of the world within ten hours. You did this while under the belief that you would somehow be safe on the other side of the planet should the bomb go off. Mr. Dillon, can you spot the flaw in this plan? You are obviously an intelligent man.

The Top: Of course I can, Doctor Hugo Strange. If half the planet was blown up, the entire planet would have been devastated. Even if I was on the other side of the planet from the epicenter of the explosion, I likely still would have been killed.

Hugo Strange: (Shocked) Wait...you actually built an atomic grenade with the power to blow up half the world?

The Top: Of course. I am a genius, Doctor Hugo Strange.

Hugo Strange: You built an atomic grenade that could spin around like a top and possessed the capacity to blow up half the world?

The Top: You have a dreadful habit of repeating yourself, Doctor Hugo Strange. But yes, I did.

Hugo Strange: Then all those other tops your record claims you invented actually worked as well? And you actually made a giant top-shaped satellite that you launched into orbit?

The Top: I am supposed to have a mood disorder, not a psychotic disorder, Dr. Hugo Strange.

Hugo Strange: Well, yes, but severe bouts of mania and depression are known to sometimes bring on psychotic symptoms. I had thought that your claims of having successfully invented such an improbable array of top-shaped weapons were the result of delusions brought on by one of your mood episodes.

The Top: No. The quack at Iron Heights says that I was having a manic episode during my attempt to become ruler of the Earth, and that that is why I did not realize the flaws in my plan. They allege that I was having “mood-congruent delusions of grandeur and invulnerability”, but at no point did they accuse me of outright hallucinating. Surely that is in the report, Doctor Hugo Strange.

Hugo Strange: (Annoyed, but not with the Top) While I do not fully agree with your assertions that the psychologist at Iron Heights is a quack, Mr. Dillon, I must admit that they are distinctly lacking in some key areas-such as specifying which of your behaviors and claims were the results of a mood episode and which were not. Knowing that you have had at least five manic episodes and at least three depressive episodes is worthwhile knowledge, but without adequate context, how do they expect me to know what behaviors are a sign that you are no longer in a healthy state of mind?

The Top: Three depressive episodes, Doctor Hugo Strange? As far as I am aware, the quack has only had me hospitalized for depression twice.

Hugo Strange: That is because the first listed depressive episode was an attempted suicide at the age of 17, which would have been before you ever went to prison.

The Top: Oh. Yes, that did...that did happen, Doctor Hugo Strange. It was how I learned that taking a dozen different types of pills is not the most efficient way in which to kill oneself.

Hugo Strange: (Alarmed, but making an effort to remain calm) You aren’t planning to make another attempt, are you? The Top: No, no. I have far too much to live for-and besides, my fianceé would never forgive me if I killed myself, Doctor Hugo Strange.

Hugo Strange: Your fianceé?

The Top: Yes. Her name is Lisa Snart, although you, Doctor Hugo Strange, are likely more familiar with her nom de guerre: the Golden Glider.

Hugo Strange: So, another one of the Rogues?

The Top: Yes. I met her while posing as an ice skating coach, and we have been deeply in love ever since, Doctor Hugo Strange.

Hugo Strange: I see. How long have the two of you been romantically linked?

The Top: About seven years now, Doctor Hugo Strange.

Hugo Strange: In other words, the relationship began shortly after your second attempted suicide?

The Top: I admit I was in a rather dark place at that point in my life, Doctor Hugo Strange. My beloved was responsible for helping to pull me out of it.

Hugo Strange: (Concerned) And what would happen if she died, or broke off your relationship?

The Top: That will not happen, Doctor Hugo Strange.

Hugo Strange: But if it did?

The Top: (Agitated) I… I don’t know. She...she’s the only person who ever really loved me, Doctor Hugo Strange. The only one.

Hugo Strange: I’m concerned that you seem to be placing your mental stability and overall self-esteem so heavily on one relationship, Mr. Dillon. That cannot be healthy, for either one of you. (Pause) I know you don’t believe yourself to be mentally ill, but for Lisa’s sake, if nothing else, I really do think that it is urgent that we continue these sessions.

The Top: I would never do anything to hurt Lisa, Doctor Hugo Strange. Never!

Hugo Strange: In an earlier manic episode, you threatened to blow up half the world. That would have included your beloved Lisa, would it not?

The Top: I had not yet met Lisa when I came up with that scheme. If I had known her, I never would have endangered her in such a way, Doctor Hugo Strange.

Hugo Strange: Maybe so, but that incident serves to prove that your judgement is compromised when you are in the midst of a manic episode. While I believe that you would never intentionally hurt Lisa, should you have another manic episode, you might cause harm to her without realizing it.

The Top: I...I suppose you may have a point, Doctor Hugo Strange. I will take your suggestion into consideration. I certainly do not wish to accidentally harm Lisa.

Hugo Strange: I’m glad to hear that, Mr. Dillon. (Pause) You are a metahuman, correct?

The Top: Do you think I am wearing this collar because it is fashionable, Doctor Hugo Strange?

Hugo Strange: A metahuman power dampener. Well, I suppose that answers that question. What powers do you possess, Mr. Dillon?

The Top: I have the ability to spin at superhuman speeds, I am telekinetic, and I have a limited degree of telepathy, Doctor Hugo Strange. I cannot read or outright control minds, but I can induce vertigo and push people into doing things that they otherwise might not be inclined to do.

Hugo Strange: I see. So, Mr. Dillon, what prompted you to put on a costume, call yourself the Top, and use your intellect and your not inconsiderable array of powers to commit crimes?

The Top: My father always told me that I needed to be a success; get on top of the world. I had to prove that I wasn’t the failure that everyone thought I was...and I did. No one laughs at Roscoe Dillon anymore, Doctor Hugo Strange.

Hugo Strange: Yes, yes...but why do it in a silly costume and with gimmicked tops?

The Top: I thought we already went over this. It’s because I like tops. They are fascinating. (Pause) Do you want to hear about my collection, Doctor Hugo Strange? There’s so much you could learn from it.

Hugo Strange: Perhaps some other time, Mr. Dillon. (Pause) And the Flash had nothing to do with your decision to put on the costume?

The Top: The Flash? You insult me, Doctor Hugo Strange. Why would I ever be inspired to do anything by someone like him?

Hugo Strange: Isn’t he your enemy?

The Top: Only because he constantly stands in the way of my achieving greatness. If he left me alone, I would not fight him….but as it is, he’s made things rather personal.

Hugo Strange: So the reason you have continued to commit crimes is in order to get revenge on the Flash?

The Top: Really, Doctor Hugo Strange, you must get your hearing problems checked out. I do not commit crimes to get revenge on the Flash. I commit crimes to make myself wealthy and to get revenge on the world. It rejected me; branded me as a freak. I simply rejected it in turn.

Hugo Strange: And has your life of crime made you happy, Mr. Dillon?

The Top: Not yet...but I am afraid, Doctor Hugo Strange, that it does not matter whether being a criminal makes me happy or not. It’s the only life that will ever accept someone like me. I learned that lesson long ago.

Hugo Strange: I stand by my initial assessment of you, Mr. Dillon. You need help. I just hope you will permit me to provide it.

#flash rogues #dr. hugo strange #the top #flash comics #batman comics #fanfic

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adventuresofclever · 3 years

Text

CleverMax: SDCC 2021 Masquerade Entry

Comic-Con@Home Masquerade Entry: Adventures of Clever Costume Title: CleverMax - Mr. Clever as a Borderlands boss Costume Description: Recreation of Mr. Clever from the Doctor Who episode Nightmare in Silver, written by Neil Gaiman, done in the style of the video game, Borderlands. Bio: They/He pronouns

Greetings all!

I realized that I never wrote about how I made my CleverMax mashup cosplay, so when SDCC posted about their At Home masquerade, I figured this was the perfect time to do so! Most of you know that I cosplay exclusively as Mr. Clever from Doctor Who, with the random mash up thrown in here and there. I’ve always wanted to be a Borderlands cosplayer, and the following is how I managed to combine the two together.

As always, enjoy the blog and if there are any questions, please feel free to contact me.

Let’s step into the TARDIS and jump back to October 20, 2009, when the first Borderlands game was released. It was my first foray into FPS (First person shooters) and I was hooked from day one. In 2012 they released Borderlands 2 which is, in my not so humble opinion, the best video game ever created. We got some of the most iconic charcters and storylines in that game. Including the best DLC ever, Bunkers and Badasses. And my second favorite villain of all time – Handsome Jack.

Jack’s sass, sarcasm and charm fits well with Mr. Clever’s personality. And in the pre sequel you get to play a version of him called the Dopplegnager. I mean, this pretty much wrote itself.

Handsome Jack from Borderlands 2 and Mr. Clever from Doctor Who

Borderlands cosplayers have aIways left me in a state of awe and admiration. The style of the game is so unique and seeing it recreated in person is nothing short of incredible. I’ve always wanted to figure out a way to be a Borderlands cosplayer. For the past eight years I have only ever cosplayed as Mr. Clever from Doctor Who. In the summer of 2019 I decided that was the perfect time to try to make this happen before NYCC.

When I initially decided to do this, it was going to be more of a mash up between Handsome Jack and Mr. Clever. I had planned on wearing Jack’s basic outfit, but in Clever’s colors with the a few add ons. Namely the bow tie and the cybernetics.

After much research and drafting, I decided against that. I ended up just turning Mr. Clever into a Borderlands boss. Same basic outfit as Mr. Clever/11th Doctor, but cel shaded and with weapons, cause Borderlands.

I made the accessories, chess set, and obviously the working cyberplanner piece itself for my Nightmare in Silver version of Clever, but I have never tackled anything this ambitious. An entire costume from scratch? Not something I thought I could do. Not knowing how to sew and being visually impaired were both challenges that I had to work around.

I started with looking around my house for various items that I thought I could use. I figured if I messed up, might as well mess up on something I hadn’t spent money on yet! I was going to toss a pair of my old paddock boots as they had some rips in the leather. Ripped leather? How very Pandora. They were the first thing I tackled.

Old paddock boots that I refurbished for the cosplay

This was my first time using leather paint and I have to say I am very pleased with the Angelus brand of leather paint. I have worn these in the rain and through puddles, and they have held up 100%.

After the boots were done, I started on the vest. I had an old black vest lying around the house that was sort of the shape and size I wanted. I don’t have a dress form, so I put it on myself, inside out, and used safety pins to make it the size I needed, then hand sewed around the safety pins. Not ideal, but it works.

I had a spare pair of black jeans, button down light blue shirt and a plain bow tie that I just ended up cel shading.

The only item that I really couldn’t figure out was the purple frock coat. Try as I might, I couldn’t find one to modify. So the coat was actually made by my friend Heather Long. I did alter the length after NYCC.

With the clothes themselves all set, for the most part anyay, it was time to paint. This was my first time trying to recreate the art style of Borderlands, often referred to as cel shading. I have a few “art of Borderlands” style books that I poured over before I sat down to attempt this.

Other than the accessories and anything leather, I used the same materials and techniques for each article of clothing. Instead of describing each seprate piece, I’ll just explain what I did to achieve the overall look.

When you look at a Borderlands character on screen, it can be a bit overwhelming. So many colors, and so many nuances of each color. I did my best to visually sift through all that, and try to establish what I thought was the base color.

Once the base color was determined, I just added blotches, blobs, shading, low lights, highlights and other variations of the base color itself throughout each piece. I recommend keeping your fabric wrinkled and using those wrinkle as guidlenes for where the lines and shading would fall naturally.

Once all of that dried, I then went over different sections of the fabric with white and black lines. To get that crisp, almost comic book looking outline of each piece I used black sharpie, and white fabric pens as well as white fabric paint.

When I sat down to do the coat, I wanted something a little different than just cel shading. During a second playthrough of Tales from the Borderlands, I noticed Rhys and other characters had interesting logos and designs on the back of their jackets. I ended up putting a chessboard pattern on the back as a homage to the chess game between the 11th Doctor and Mr. Clever in the episode.

Great shot of the chess board and my Judd Nelson pose

The materials that I used for all of the clothing items were craft paints that I had around the house. Any brand works, but I prefer Americana paints. I then added an additive that you use to make the paint water proof and used various sized brushes. Dry brushes are also very useful if you have them.

Black sharpies of different sizes and any fabric markers are also very helpful. Heat setting is required to make the paint waterpfoof, so if you mess up before you add sharpies, you can wash the clothes and start over.

A few tips if you decide to undertake cel shading clothing: Until now I hadn’t noticed that there aren’t many thing in Borderlands that are true black. Due to the art style most things that appear black are in reality shades of grey, with a grey base colr. This makes it easier to add the lines, shading, and what not. Looking back, I should have bought GREY clothes. It was a ton of work to make the pants look like they were a mixture of greys. And as a result of so many laers of paint, they are stiff, lost their stretch and feel an entire size smaller! So I would recommend grey fabric as a base for black clothing and buy a size larger.

The pants are so stiff that I think they will stand up on their own

This entire process was way more fun than I thought it would be and I’ve since become addicted to cel shading anything I can. I may or may not have started cel shading my guest room.

After the clothing was finished, I started on some accessories and props. The first being the easiet – a wee little cybermite that I cel shaded. My cosplay of Mr. Clever always has a cybermite on my lapel, so I took one of my older ones and repainted it.

You can’t have a Borderlands character without some sort of weapon, so I painted a nerf gun that looks similar to the one that Clara Oswald holds in the episode.

I have never had to carry a gun for my Mr. Clever cosplay before so weapon checks are sort of new to me. I didn’t want to go through that at NYCC so I came up with a clever, no pun intended, way around it.

I took a photo of each side of the gun. Went to Staples and had them printed on heavy cardstock. Then I cut around the guns, glued them together between a piece of cardboard then added some black electical tape around the edges. Viola. Instant weapons check approved gun that is lightweight, and also acts a fan when it gets hot. It was a huge hit at the con. A few security guards were like “ we have to check your…wait..is that flat?” And they proceeded to play with it. I highly recommend doing this!

Gun and its flat counterpart

I am holding the flat gun in this picture from NYCC

In the actual game, you can equip your characters with mods that give them certain abilities and bonuses. In the Pre-Sequel, you can play as a Dopplganger of Handsome Jack so I searched for some of his mods and found one in purple which seemed perfect. I made the mod with cardboard, covered it in craft foam, modge podge to set, and installed led lights. The first time I wore it I put it on my belt which didn’t work. It kept falling off. I eventually put it on my lapel and wore it like Jack does. Unfortunately, someone glomped on me at a con and broke it, so I recently had to remake it all over again.

No Borderlands costume would be complete without cel shading on yourself. This was a huge challenge for me for a few reasons. One, I’m visually impaired so doing line work like this was challenging. Two, I am highly allergic to so many materials and ingrediants that finding a make up brand that I could wear was a trial and error process that ended up with many break outs and rashes before I found the perfect combination.

I used mostly eye liner pencils and liquid eye liner to achieve the look. The Wet n Wild liquid eye liner lasts forever, and is actually difficult to remove, but that is not a bad thing as it stood up to the heat of a very crowded venue.

As for the cel shading itself, I relied on many refernce photos of various characters in the game. I started with the eyebrows first as that seemed to frame the face nicely and give me a nice mischvieous look. I then just outlined the bones of my face, adding some random lines here and there. It never looks the same way twice, but that’s ok. Playing with different angles, lines, shading etc is half the fun!

The only real challenge were my hands. The make up didn’t last that long on my hands so I had to touch it up throughout the con. I also eventually started to use band aids that I cel sahded to cover up a tattoo on my inner wrist.

Figuring what to do with my hair is an on going process that I still haven’t 100% mastered. I opted to not use a foam wig as I have over heating issues on a cool day let alone trying to wear one if it gets warmer. I have had adverse reactions to craft foam in the past, so I don’t want it touching my skin, and lastly, I think a wig AND a facial prosthetic would be too much for me. So I decided to just cel shade my hair.

This takes forever to do, and I’m still figuring out better techniques every time I wear it.

I have a really great brand of colored gel, called Mofajang which I apply with a baster brush that you would find in the kitchen gadgets aisle. I also use a clean mascara brush to add some finer lines here and there. Set with way more hair spray than I ever used in the 80’s and it becomes fairly waterproof.

I have learned that due to how hard the make up and hair color is to remove, I really need to wear this on the LAST day of a con. I made the mistake of wearing it on day one of Long Island Who one year, and spent hours scrubbing my skin and hair for the next day. Far better to just leave the con with a tad bit of left over cel shading. Which makes it very interesting when you stop at a roadside bathroom on the trip home.

With the entire costume done it was time to work on the actual cyberplanner appliance.

Next time I make a variation of Clever, I will make this FIRST. Making these pieces is the bane of my existence – I love wearing them, hate making them. It’s a long process.

I am allergic to latex, silocone, scuply, most clays, and so many other things that seem to be every cosplayers go-to. When I made my first cyber piece back in late 2013, I spent weeks trying to find a substance that would keep attached to my face all day without causing a rash. Like an alchemist in a fantasy novel, I submerged myself into creating the perfect concoction. It took 22 days to finish the final product.

I admit that I rushed a bit on the Borderlands one. As a result, it doesn’t quite fit as well as my others, and is a bit heavier than I expected. I only added two working lights, instead of the usual four, to hopefully balance the piece out. It lasted through two full days of a con, despite the heat of a crowded venue, but I did end up tweaking it a bit after. Even with the tweaks, it still doesn’t fit as well as I would like. It is too heavy and brings down the entire left side of my face, making it difficult to keep my eye open at times. I really need to sit down and force myself to make a new one.

There are a few more things that I would like to add to this costume eventually. Like a belt of grenades, and maybe another gun. But aside from that, I am incredibly pleased with how this costume turned out. It is by far, my favorite Clever variation that I have done.

I hope this post gives you the inspiration to go off and cel shade something, and possibly even play some Borderlands!

#doctorwho #misterclever #mrclever #nightmareinsilver #cosplay #borderlands cosplay #doctor who cosplay #comic-con #comic-conathome #comic-conathome2021 #comic-conathomemasquerêde #cyberplanner #borderlands

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abruisedmuse · 4 years

Note

19 for the prompts :)

A treat this time

Prompt: 19 “You want to go trick or treating?” "Seriously?”

Pairing: Nessian

a/n: Sorry it took a while! my writer’s block has been really bad lately. Enjoy!

Today was Halloween. Her favorite holiday. Not only for the fact she loved the costumes, dressing up, the weather and films, but because it was the night she had met Cassian. If it wasn't for a party six years ago she might not have met him.

However, this year, Nesta Bellator nee Archeron found she wasn't particularly in the spirit of spooky. Not when she looked like an overgrown pumpkin, with her bump jutting out of the shirt. From Braxton-hicks, aches in her lower back, not to mention the swelling in her feet, she was over this pregnancy. At this stage, Nesta's fairly certain her feet were to be permanently stuck that way.

This time around she and her husband of almost three years decided to stay in. Opting for appropriately themed films and eating take-out from her favorite Italian restaurant. The one that made the breadsticks so perfect, the bread seemed to melt in your mouth. A mere thought of them made her mouth dry. She would savor every bite while Cassian rubbed her pudgy toes. Tell her she's beautiful, though in this state, she felt far from it. Half of her clothes didn't fit. Even her maternity clothing seemed to be a struggle. Hell, everything was nowadays. Being ten long days past your due date would do the trick.

Nesta heard the sound of jostling keys in the door. Prompting her to slide the bowl of half-eaten candy under the Cherrywood coffee table. Candy that was supposed to be for the neighborhood kids. She should feel guilty for eating most of it. In her state, Nesta found she could care less. They weren't miserable and exhausted beyond measure like her. Besides, the kids in their neighborhood didn't need all the sugar. Not like she did.

Hearing the creak from the front door and the click as it shut. A faint sound of heavy footfall from her husband's boots echoed from the hall. The sound becoming louder with each step inching towards her. Nesta stood with a groan from the grey sofa. Settling a hand on the swell of her back. Walking, no waddling, like a godsdamned penguin to greet her husband and the food she was dying to devour. Tonight her pain seemed to worsen.

Most likely from lazily hanging on the couch most of the day. She moved as quickly as her nesting body would carry her to the dining table. The square mahogany table adorned with orange, red, and brown on the runner, matching the leaves littering their yard outside. Nesta winced as she smiled at her hero, walking towards her. With bags of food from Nuala and Cerridwen's restaurant, La Bellezza di Cibo. He dropped the bags and rushed to her side. Nesta hitched a breath as the bags hit the floor with a thud. If her food were a mess, he'd deal with her, her... Nesta clutched the back of a ebony chair.

"Nes?" he questioned with worry displayed on his ruggedly handsome features, a hand placed gingerly over her shoulder before resting on the swell of her belly, "Sweetheart, are you okay?"

Her knuckles bloomed white from her tightened grip on the rounded back of a dining chair, "fine." Nesta gritted out, glancing between concerned hazel eyes and her food abandoned on the floor.

Once the tremor subsided, Nesta stood upright. Hands resting over Cassian's warm ones, "Fine," she replied again. Feeling the light kicks and punches from within. By the awe touched grin on her husband's lips, he felt it too, "Just Braxton hicks. As you can tell, he's content in there.

"Nes…" Cassian's thumbs rubbed along her belly, "I think you should call the doctor."

"I think," she huffed out, " you should pick up the food, feed your hungry, very pregnant wife, and rub her grapefruit-sized feet." Nesta realized a moment too late that the words were coming out harsher than intended.

By the way his posture tightened, and his jaw clenched, she knew he was fighting against what he truly wanted to say. That she wasn't in this alone, he should have a say too, and if he's concerned to humor him and call the damned doctor. They had called a few times, and tonight she wasn't doing it. She wasn't going into the hospital yet again only to hear they are Braxton-hicks and have those nurses look at her with slight annoyance—the kind she gave her customers daily. Cassian offered a tight smile, kissing her brow in a silent expression of okay.

She watched his shoulders slump as he picked up the bags walking to the sofa. Her heart constricted as her gaze continued to follow him setting up dinner on the coffee table. He was trying in the only way he could.

Cassian didn't know the inside of her body as she did. His only tells of possible labor were her movements and time. He sighed, pulling out her favorite drink, iced green tea, no sugar. Silently she moved towards the couch. Her husband now putting on Practical Magic, one of her favorites. He preferred the gory films. lately Nesta couldn't stomach watching those.

If she weren't pregnant and past due, Cassian being upset for a few minutes would be nothing. Nesta would have rolled her wines and left him be for thirty minutes, an hour, sometimes all night before talking. Now, she couldn't stand it. Bracing herself on the back of the charcoal sofa, Nesta shook away the dull pain in her spine.

"Hang on," Cassian grabbed the couch pillows settling them against the back of her seat, "okay, now sit."

She did leaning into the pillows as best as she could. Laying a hand on her belly, the other on his thigh. "I'm sorry, Cas. I'm just.. I'm so tired all the time, I'm gigantic and in pain. Calling the doctor and going to the hospital just to be turned away, I can't do it. It's annoying and disheartening. If one of those nurses look at me like that again I will stab them in the eye with a syringe." Those last words she promised as a threat. A sigh escaped Nesta, laying her head against his shoulder, "and I just want to meet him."

Cassian squeezed her hand, reaching for a breadstick with the opposite. Nesta took it, biting into the bread, still soft and warm. She could feel the sting of tears behind her eyes while she chewed. Cauldron this gods damned pregnancy has ruined her non-crying streak a hundred times over.

"I know. Trust me; I'm ready too. It seems like he has both of our stubbornness," he took her in his arms, running fingers through her hair. Nesta wiped her tears with the back of a hand, "You don't have to apologize, Nes. Yeah, I got annoyed for a minute. I don't know what's happening. I walked in, and you're bent over in pain. I had no idea if this had been going on all day or not. He pulled away, taking her feet in his lap. Gingerly rubbing the expanse from toes to ankles with the hardened padding of his thumbs. Nesta hummed her approval.

"I know."

"And you're not gigantic. I mean you-"

"Don't finish that sentence!" she snapped, cutting him a dry look.

He laughed, grinning like an idiot in the way it made her heart flutter, "You're carrying our child, and you look gorgeous doing it. Better?"

"Yes. But you're at morning foot rubs now and speaking of mornings. Tomorrow you're making me crepes."

"deal."

They fell into a blissful rhythm of silence watching the movie. At some point, Cassian handed her the tea. She didn't eat the chicken parm or touch the Tiramisu Nesta claimed to have been craving for weeks. However, he wasn't sure about that. Cassian, the dutiful husband he is, knew every craving and memorized everything she wants and needs. Learning the lesson from Rhys, who was kicked out for a night for getting the wrong the sauce. Feyre's wrath was nothing compared to Nesta's. Paying careful attention to all her tells he knew she's hurting tonight more than usual, which gave him an idea. It was stupid he knew, but if it worked...

"Nes, wanna go trick or treating?"

Turning, she looked at him incredulously. He chuckled at her mouth fully agape, a bit of breadstick tumbling down her black shirt.

"Cassian, you're thirty-one years old, and you want to go trick or treating?" a nod, "seriously?" a second nod, Nesta sat a little straighter, "Let me get this straight, you want to take your nine and then some months pregnant wife trick or treating?"

"Yes, sweetheart. That's exactly what I'm suggesting. We can paint your stomach like a pumpkin with body paint. The doctor said walking helps a chance of labor, free candy, and I'll throw in a rub as soon we get back. I'll even hold your breadsticks and tea."

Before she had a chance to consider, Nesta felt a rush of liquid flow from her. Like someone, some little one popped a balloon filled with water. Nesta stilled for a moment. Time slowed as her stormy grey eyes moved down to her belly. She could feel her cotton leggings thoroughly soaked. Her jaw fell, and her heart pounded loudly. To the point that Nesta knew Cassian was speaking, yet couldn't hear his words. There were only dull noises and a wet feeling underneath her. This was happening. There was no trickery tonight—no falsified contractions.

Cassian knelt in front of her. Face twisted in worry, he quickly transferred to a half-smile, realizing Nesta was smiling from ear to ear.

"Sweetheart?"

Meeting his gaze of amber and green flecked eyes, Nesta finally broke, "We can't trick or treat. Cassian, my water broke."

Tag list: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @hizqueen4life @clockworkgraystairs @b00kworm @negativenesta @sjm-things @whataboutmyfries @justgiu12 @illyrian-bookworm @thesirenwashere @ireallyshouldsleeprn @forbiddencorvidae @vanessa172003 @thewickedkings @sleeping-and-books @thefolkofthefic @yafandomsdotnet @aknymph @alittledribbledrabble @iminsanenotobsessed @figuredihadanodustollensofalife @df3ndyr @awkward-avocado-s @maastrash @knifewifejude @st00pid231 @elide-lochan-salvaterre @gisellefigue08 @se-ono-waise-ilia @strangeenemy @The-girl-who-reads-to-much @piratejudedemdji @junipersuns @ladywitchling @superspiritfestival @kendarbahr @shadowhuntersshadow-world @pcarnatio @wanderingjpg @whimsyrhys @bookishwitchling @sayosdreams @theoceanfaewriter @acourtofbookworms

#nessian #nessian fic #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acoma #acowar #acofas #acosf #sjm fandom #prompt #prompt ask #answered prompt #the end is nigh #usernite #sv fics #is my writers block over?#I hope so!

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9worldstales · 3 years

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MCU: Loki and Midgardian clothes

So, I’ve seen some fans wondering how could Loki fix Mobius’ tie since Asgardians clearly do not wear ties…

…and it made me wonder ‘is this a mistake or Loki was actually familiar with Midgardians clothes?’

So let’s start with the sources at our disposition to answer this question.

SOURCES MENTIONED:

Movies: “Thor” (2011), “The Avengers” (2012), “Thor – Ragnark” (2017)

Series: “Loki” [More exactly a scene from: “Marvel Studios' Loki | Official Trailer | Disney+”] (2021)

Comics: None mentioned

Direct-to-video animated film: None mentioned

Motion comics: None mentioned

Books: “The Art of Thor” (2011), “The art of The Avengers” (2012), “The Art of Thor: Ragnarok” (2017), “Marvel Studios: All your questions answered” (2018)

Novels: “Thor: Ragnarok - The Junior novel” by Jim McCann (2017)

Webs: None mentioned

Others: “Thor” old movie script

Okay, now we can start.

So, as weird as it might seem at first, the second answer, which is that Loki is familiar with Midgardian modern attires, might be the intended one, right from “Thor”.

Let’s go back to that movie.

Thor is clearly unfamiliar with present day Midgard as a whole, and so are his friends.

We’ve various moments in which Thor shows he’s unaware of present day Midgardians customs, like when he can’t realize he’s in doctors’ care and thinks they’re attacking him (in a deleted bit, when they tell him they’re trying to help him, he demands they bring him healing stones, showing he has no idea how Earth’s healing system work), or when he breaks a glass asking another believing he’s showing appreciation for the drink, or when he enters in a pet shop, demands a horse and when they tell him they’ve only dogs, cats, birds, demands one of them big enough to ride.

It doesn’t mean he never went to Midgard, in the movie there’s the implication he had been on Midgard before...

Thor: We're going to Jotunheim. Fandral: What? This isn't like a journey to Earth where you summon a little lightning and thunder, and the mortals worship you as a god. This is Jotunheim.

...and there was a cut scene in which he recognized being on Midgard and even calling it ‘Earth’.

Thor: Blue sky... one sun... This is Earth, isn't it?

And there’s another cut scene that says that yes, Sif and the Warriors Three had been on Earth… but a thousand years ago.

Volstagg: Is it just me, or does Earth look a little different to you? Sif: It has been a thousand years... Volstagg: Things change so fast here. You leave for a millennium, and it's like the whole neighborhood's gone.

Now, Loki was a babe in 965 AD and “Thor” takes place in 2011. Sif likely doesn’t mean exactly 1000 years but, what’s more, we don’t know how exactly Asgardians age in the MCU.

Does their childhood last as much as ours and then their aging process slow down so as to allow them to live 5000 years? Or their aging process is proportionately all slowed down and they remains babes for years?

I tend to think their childhood is fast and then they have a slower aging process once they reach a certain age, but anyway this is irrelevant. Even if Loki visited Midgard 1000 years before and was familiar with its customs back then, well, things, as Volstagg points out, are changed a lot.

So… where do we can get an idea if Loki is familiar with Midgard or not?

When Loki goes to see Thor, he shows up dressed up in 21st century Midgardian attire.

In “The Art of Thor” is said:

Said Craig Kyle, “Loki wants to look good, he’s a man of style… Loki actually has three looks, Thor has one.” In addition to the three costumes he wears in the otherworldy realm of Asgard, Loki also makes a brief appearance in a suit and tie. Said Tom Hiddleston, “When he turns up on Earth in the movie, [he’s] very GQ.”

(For who, like me, is not familiar with the term GQ, it is used to describe a guy who is dressed nicely, very sleek, or very sexy to the ladies, The term comes from the men's fashion magazine named GQ (=Gentlemen's Quarterly).)

They don’t really explains why Loki decided to dress up like that, but the fact he chose to is meaningful.

Loki was going to see Thor, and he only let Thor see him.

He appears in the room Thor was, presumably after waiting for a while inside it but invisible since he complains about how he thought Coulson would never leave. When Coulson is back, Loki has magically disappeared again.

People doesn’t see Loki, not even when he tries to lift up Mjolnir.

Long story short, Loki’s attire is not to disguise himself as a human among humans and walk among them unnoticed, as he just doesn’t let them see him at all, and if he were, his very fashionable outfit would likely draw more gazes than anything else (compare it with Coulson’s plain suit), especially when he tries to lift Mjolnir while all around it there are scientists dresses in scientist garbs and guards dressed in guard uniforms.

So we can see Loki didn’t need to dress as a human to see Thor, he could have very well gone there in his normal Asgardians clothes, like he does when he goes to visit Laufey...

...though he could have forsaken the armour when visiting Thor, and just show up in his normal attire.

Instead Loki picked up a stylish Midgardian outfit to go meet his brother. Be it an illusion (more likely) or real clothes, Loki knew how a fashionable 21st century Midgardian would dress and decided to dress as such even though there was no need for it. This implies a familiarity with Midgard, or at least with its dressing style, which I genuinely doubt could have been a topic of study for Asgardians... even though Odin too was familiar with Midgardians attires as, when he bans Thor to Earth, he changes his clothes into modern, ordinary, definitely not fashionable Midgardian ones.

Loki knows the secret paths between words, it can be he travelled to Midgard and, once there, grew to like the elegant style we have.

But yes, this doesn’t necessarily mean he could learn how to fix a tie, as his clothes might be an illusion.

The final bit of “Thor” is a bit of a confusing thing as it shows Loki (dressed in Asgardian clothes) invisible to other people’s eyes controlling Selvig...

...which is confirmed by “Marvel Studios: All your questions answered” which describes that scene as:

Loki controls Selvig as he examines the Tesseract.

If Loki had controlled Selvig for an extensive period he might have learnt to tie ties as Selvig wears one.

However, although this scene was created and directed by Joss Whedon, this scene is kind of forgotten when “The Avengers” rolls around.

In it Selvig is free from Loki’s control until Loki uses the sceptre with the mind stone to turn him into his servant.

Now… “The Avengers”.

The story starts by night, with Loki arriving in the S.H.I.E.L.D. research center in which Selvig is studying the Tesseract.

Natasha Romanov, Bruce Banner, Steve Roger and Tony Stark are all warned during night. It’s possible it’s the same night, maybe it’s the night after.

It’s full day when Steve Roger travels with Coulson. The following scene shows Loki remembering his talk with the Other and then we’ve Steve reaching the Helicarrier and meeting up with Natasha and Bruce.

Then Loki shows up at Stuttgart Museum again dressed up in 21st Century attire with his sceptre disguised as a cane. This time Loki is sort of disguising himself, as he’s actually planning to draw attention on himself but, at first, in a subtle manner so it makes sense he dressed up as a Midgardian to move among Midgardians so as not to alert common people but end up being tracked by SHIELD because they can see him on monitors and recognize him… something they wouldn’t be able to do had he been invisible.

Loki drops his disguise only later, after he has sent a holographic image of Dr. Heinrich Schafer’s eye to Barton. He confront with Steve and Tony and vanish his armour… remaining in Asgardian clothes. He’s short after taken by Thor, who then argues with Steve and Tony until Thor decides to get along with them and Loki is carried on the Helicarrier all in the same night.

Natasha takes care to inform us Loki killed 80 people in 2 days. This should mean Loki is on Midgard by two days.

Why all this is relevant?

Again Loki dressed up as a stylish Midgardian,

...his clothes similar to the ones he had in “Thor” yet vaguely different (in “Thor” the coat is green, in “The Avengers” black and the scarf motive is slightly different) and even knew that, in order to disguise the sceptre, he can’t mask it as, let’s say, a pitchfork but a cane. It’s true, since he’s been on Earth by 2 days, this time he could have gotten that knowledge by Barton or Selvig.

“The art of The Avengers” again doesn’t tell us much apart that:

“Joss and Kevin both wanted a different look for Loki in The Avengers, in part for the fans and in part to serve the story,” Visual Development Supervisor Charlie Wen said.” For Loki, his costumes evolved from the super-clean look of the Asgard from Thor to a much grittier and more lived-in look to show the changes he’s gone through since then.” “For Thor and Loki, much of our inspiration came from Jack Kirby’s original character designs,” Wen said. “Loki represent mischief. He is a cultured traveller.”

But, if we put clothes aside, Loki is also aware of how:

Loki: The humans slaughter each other in droves, while you idly threat. I mean to rule them. And why should I not?

It’s something Thor didn’t seem to know/realize.

This seems to imply Loki knows about Earth’s history or, at least, of its present situation. Yes, he might have had a crash course in history of Earth courtesy by Clint or Selvig, but he might have also learnt it by himself in trips on Earth since Odin didn’t seem interested in Earth beyond protecting it from some attacks from creatures from other realms (he helps against the Frost Giants, however he doesn’t seem aware of the Skrulls and Krees walking on its surface nor he cares to check what humans do with the Tesseract doing nothing when Red Skull uses it to produce weapons) so he might not have bothered having his son learning about Midgard’s history and situation.

The last time we see Loki dressed as a human is in “Thor: Ragnarok”.

In it his clothes are much more simple than usual as he only wears a black suit, no scarf, no coat.

In “The Art of Thor: Ragnarok” there’s actually not one but 2 arts for more elaborate suits with coat but they were clearly discharged as Loki never wears them in the movie.

“Thor: Ragnarok The Junior novel” which is based on an earlier script says:

They were dressed in regular Earth street wear – shirt and slacks – and Thor carried an umbrella. His hair was swept back into a ponytail. Loki’s magic was projecting an illusion onto the duo.

...which seems to imply the scriptwriter originally didn’t even think dressing Loki stylish… and anyway mostly focused on Thor... so it’s possible Loki’s attire in the movie is a compromise between the scriptwriter, who though to dress Loki in shirt and slacks, and "Thor: Ragnarok” Visual Development Supervisor Andy Park who wanted to put him in an elegant and stylish suit as the other Visual Development Supervisors had done.

Still, the scriptwriter too thinks Loki is aware of how, if Thor wants to keep an object in his hands, it has to look like something ordinary and how an umbrella can fit the bill. As it didn’t rain during Loki’s short permanence on Earth, the fact he knows umbrellas exist and is acceptable to carry them around seems to imply Loki has an idea of how Earth works.

So all this to say… yes, Loki might be more familiar with Earth than it looked like and he might have learnt how to make a tie or, at least, how to fix it since this is more what he seems to do in that scene in “Marvel Studios' Loki | Official Trailer | Disney+”

We can only wait and see if “Loki” will give us more explanations about this scene or it will just toss it in and not bother to explain it at all.

Meanwhile I’ll have fun thinking before things went wrong Loki used to come on Earth and look up on fashion magazines and love the idea of how good he would look in such clothes that he began to dress up according to Midgard fashion style each time he got to set a feet on it.

#loki #loki odinson #thor #thor odinson #volstagg #fandral #lady sif #mcu loki #mcu thor #mcu the avengers #mcu thor ragnarok #9 worlds study

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nealiios · 3 years

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The Supernatural 70s: Part I - Corruption of An Innocent

"We're mutants. There's something wrong with us, something very, very wrong with us. Something seriously wrong with us - we're soldiers writers."

-- with apologies to the screenwriter of "Stripes"

Dear reader, I have the darkest of revelations to make to you, a truth when fully and wholly disclosed shall most assuredly chill you to the bone, a tale that shall make you question all that you hold to be true and good and holy about my personal history. While you may have come in search of that narrative designer best known for his works of interactive high fantasy, you should know that he is also a crafter of a darker art, a scribbler of twisted tales filled with ghosts, and ghouls, and gargoyles. I am, dear innocent, a devotee of horrors! Mwahahahaha!

[cue thunderclap, lightning, pipe organ music]

Given the genre of writing for which most of you know me, I forgive you if you think of me principally as a fantasy writer. I don't object to that classification because I do enjoy mucking about with magic and dark woods and mysterious ancient civilizations. But if you are to truly know who I am as a writer, you must realize that the image I hold of myself is principally as a creator of weird tales.

To understand how and why I came to be drawn to this sub-genre of fantastic fiction, you first must understand that I come from peculiar folks. Maybe I don't have the Ipswich look, or I didn't grow up in a castle, but my pedigree for oddity has been there from the start. My mother was declared dead at birth by her doctor, and often heard voices calling to her in the dead of night that no one else could hear. Her mother would periodically ring us up to discuss events in our lives about which she couldn't possibly have known. My father's people still share ghost stories about a family homestead that burned down mysteriously in the 1960s. Even my older brother has outré memories about events he says cannot possibly be true, and as a kid was kicked off the Tulsa city bookmobile for attempting to check out books about UFOs, bigfoot, and ESP. It's fair to say I was doomed - or destined - for weirdness from the start.

If the above listed circumstances had not been enough, I grew up in an area where neighbors whispered stories about a horrifically deformed Bulldog Man who stalked kids who "parked" on the Old North Road near my house. The state in which I was raised was rife with legends of bigfoots, deer women, and devil men. Even in my childhood household there existed a pantheon of mythological entities invented explicitly to keep me in line. If I was a good boy, The Repairman would leave me little gifts of Hot Wheels cars or candy. If I was being terrible, however, my father would dress in a skeleton costume, rise from the basement and threaten to drag me down into everlasting hellfire (evidently there was a secret portal in our basement.) There were monsters, monsters EVERYWHERE I looked in my childhood world. Given that I was told as a fledgling writer to write what I knew, how could anyone have been surprised that the first stories I wrote were filled with the supernatural?

"The Nightmare" by John Henry Fuseli (1781)

My formative years during the late sixties and early seventies took place at a strange juncture in our American cultural history. At the same time that we were loudly proclaiming the supremacy of scientific thought because we'd landed men on the moon, we were also in the midst of a counter cultural explosion of interest in astrology, witchcraft, ghosts, extra sensory perception, and flying saucers. Occult-related books were flying off the shelves as sales surged by more than 100% between 1966 and 1969. Cultural historians would come to refer to this is as the "occult boom," and its aftershocks would impact popular cultural for decades to come.

My first contact with tales of the supernatural were innocuous, largely sanitized for consumption by children. I vividly remember watching Casper the Friendly Ghost and the Disney version of the Legend of Sleepy Hollow. I read to shreds numerous copies of both Where the Wild Things Are and Gus the Ghost. Likely the most important exposure for me was to the original Scooby Doo, Where Are You? cartoon which attempted to inoculate us from our fears of ghosts and aliens by convincing us that ultimately the monster was always just a bad man in a mask. (It's fascinating to me that modern incarnations of Scooby Doo seem to have completely lost this point and instead make all the monsters real.)

ABOVE: Although the original cartoon Scooby Doo, Where Are You? ran only for one season from 1969 to 1970, it remained in heavy reruns and syndication for decades. It is notable for having been a program that perfectly embodied the conflict between reason and superstition in popular culture, and was originally intended to provide children with critical thinking skills so they would reject the idea of monsters, ghosts, and the like. Ironically, modern takes on Scooby Doo have almost entirely subverted this idea and usually present the culprits of their mysteries as real monsters.

During that same time, television also introduced me to my first onscreen crush in the form of the beautiful and charming Samantha Stevens, a witch who struggles to not to use her powers while married to a frequently intolerant mortal advertising executive in Bewitched. The Munsters and The Addams Family gave me my first taste for "goth" living even before it would become all the rage in the dance clubs of the 1980s. Late night movies on TV would bring all the important horror classics of the past in my living room as Dracula, Frankenstein, the Wolf Man, the Invisible Man, the Phantom of the Opera, The Creature from the Black Lagoon, and Godzilla all became childhood friends. Over time the darkened castles, creaking doors, foggy graveyards, howling wolves, and ever present witches and vampires became so engrained in my psyche that today they remain the "comfort viewing" to which I retreat when I'm sick or in need of other distractions from modern life.

ABOVE: Elizabeth Montgomery starred in Bewitched (1964 - 1972) as Samantha Stephens, a witch who married "mortal" advertising executive Darren Stephens (played for the first five seasons by actor Dick York). Inspired by movies like I Married a Witch (1942) and Bell, Book and Candle (1958), it was a long running series that explored the complex relationship dynamics between those who possess magic and those who don't. Social commentators have referred to it as an allegory both for mixed marriages and also about the challenges faced by minorities, homosexuals, cultural deviants, or generally creative folks in a non heterogeneous community. It was also one of the first American television programs to portray witches not as worshippers of Satan, but simply as a group of people ostracized for their culture and their supernatural skills.

Even before I began elementary school, there was one piece of must-see gothic horror programming that I went out of my way to catch every day. Dark Shadows aired at 3:30 p.m. on our local ABC affiliate in Tulsa, Oklahoma which usually allowed me to catch most of it if I ran home from school (or even more if my mom or brother picked me up.) In theory it was a soap opera, but the show featured a regular parade of supernatural characters and themes. The lead was a 175 year old vampire named Barnabas Collins (played by Johnathan Frid), and the show revolved around his timeless pursuit of his lost love, Josette. It was also a program that regularly dealt with reincarnation, precognition, werewolves, time travel, witchcraft, and other occult themes. Though it regularly provoked criticism from religious groups about its content, it ran from June of 1966 until it's final cancellation in April of 1971. (I would discover it in the early 1970s as it ran in syndication.) Dark Shadows would spin off two feature-length movies based on the original, a series of tie-in novels, an excellent reboot series in 1991 (starring Ben Cross as Barnabas), and a positively embarrassingly awful movie directed by Tim Burton in 1991.

ABOVE: Johnathan Frid starred as Barnabas Collins, one of the leading characters of the original Dark Shadows television series. The influence of the series cannot be understated. In many ways Dark Shadows paved the way for the inclusion of supernatural elements in other soap operas of the 1970s and the 1980s, and was largely responsible for the explosion of romance novels featuring supernatural themes over the same time period.

While Dark Shadows was a favorite early television program for me, another show would prove not only to be a borderline obsession, but also a major influence on my career as a storyteller. Night Gallery (1969-1973) was a weekly anthology television show from Rod Serling, better known as the creator and host of the original Twilight Zone. Like Twilight Zone before it, Night Gallery was a deep and complex commentary on the human condition, but unlike its predecessor the outcomes for the characters almost always skewed towards the horrific and the truly outré. In "The Painted Mirror," an antiques dealer uses a magic painting to trap an enemy in the prehistoric past. Jack Cassidy plots to use astral projection to kill his romantic rival in "The Last Laurel" but accidentally ends up killing himself. In "Eyes" a young Stephen Spielberg directs Joan Crawford in a story about an entitled rich woman who plots to take the sight of a poor man. Week after week it delivered some of the best-written horror television of the early 1970s.

In retrospect I find it surprising that I was allowed to watch Night Gallery at all. I was very young while it was airing, and some of the content was dark and often quite shocking for its time. Nevertheless, I was so attached to the show that I'd throw a literal temper tantrum if I missed a single, solitary episode. If our family needed to go somewhere on an evening that Night Gallery was scheduled, either my parents would either have to wait until after it had aired before we left, or they'd make arrangements in advance with whomever we were visiting to make sure it was okay that I could watch Night Gallery there. I was, in a word, a fanatic.

ABOVE: Every segment of Night Gallery was introduced by series creator Rod Serling standing before a painting created explicitly for the series. Director Guillermo del Toro credits Serling's series as being the most important and influential show on his own work, even more so than the more famous Twilight Zone.

#horror #70s #occult #supernatural #television #writing

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