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#the original is my dad favourite movie

sarahghetti · 2 months

Text

moving day; m.k.

pairing: marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader

summary: how marc and steven learn to live together, how you come to live with them, and how jake finally lets himself live at all.

warnings: basically a BIG character study into our boys, fluff, hurt and comfort, angst, insecurity, mentions of marc's childhood, mentions of violence, suggestive content but nothing explicit.

word count: 9.9k

notes: this one got away from me and might also be the best thing I've ever written (i'm very proud of it 😭). part of the @MOONKNIGHT-EVENTS bingo! prompt: “'is that my shirt?'”

MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

Even though it was (and still is) under Marc’s name, the flat was Steven’s first. Marc just helped set it up a little.

He rented out the first decent unit he found in the city and kept every piece of mismatched furniture the previous tenant left behind. The essentials had to be filled in himself—a bed, couch, and desk. A table to go with that rickety stool to eat meals on, a coat rack near the doorway. The only belongings of his own that Marc left behind were his old Egyptology texts, unceremoniously shoved into a corner of one of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that he hoped Steven would like.

(The fish was unexpected, though. Steven already had everything he would need, and it was Marc’s mistake to be scrolling through Facebook Marketplace on one of his last days before he handed it all over to his alter. A complete aquarium set was being offered for next to nothing; attached: a photo of the original poster’s late goldfish. Backlit from the tank light, blank faced and innocent.

He just couldn’t move on.)

But it was Steven who then took Marc’s—their—card and ran with it. Every free surface was prime real estate for another journal, another tomb. The used bookstores of London never stood a chance; it was almost impressive to watch him scour the shelves for the most esoteric topics and still come out with his arms full of what he was looking for. Marc would wake up in the body to find Steven’s collection a little bigger than before and ghost his fingers over the spines during those brief moments of respite before having to put on the suit.

It didn’t stop at the books. Of course, it didn’t. Steven’s always had an affinity for oddities. Marc wasn’t the least bit surprised to see the new paper lantern hung over the living room, or the pumpkin-esque footstool that was coloured as though it was plucked off the vine just a tad too early.

The pieces were quaint at best. If there were any psychological meaning as to why his alter gravitated towards dingy, threadbare upholstery instead of an IKEA like a normal person, it was beyond Marc.

However, he couldn’t not admit that it all kind of worked once put together; the clashing mix of materials and colours sort of became its own style when combined under the wooden rafters. Even when the books started overfilling the storage capacity and ended up in piles on the floor—it only added to the charm.

Marc was sure to erase every trace of his presence around the flat to avoid interfering with Steven’s life, but that didn’t stop the sense of longing to return to their—Steven’s—home during missions.

It was still a mess. A mess where everything has its place, yes, but there was no way that Steven could trip over several odds-and-ends in one day and claim that he was any degree of neat or tidy. Marc silently griped to himself about it all the time, but he’d sooner eat that dusty-ass rug Steven got for free before he saw anything get thrown away.

(It was like this back when they were kids, too. Marc’s childhood bedroom in Chicago—a room he never finds himself thinking about outside of his nightmares—was filled with joy. Medals from peewee baseball. Posters from his favourite movies, carefully smoothened out and taped to the walls by his dad. Drawings by him and Randall piled at the corner of his desk.

Right after the—the accident, all his stuff remained, immortalized in place. As if keeping everything the same would somehow also make Marc’s life the same as it was before, and Randall would come bursting through his door at any moment to ask him to come play. It was an overarching belief in their household. Even on her worst days, his mother’s anger never touched their home. Only him.

But then things began to change. His old action figures, collecting dust, would be strewn about the floor, waiting for someone to continue the battle. A collection of particularly smooth rocks began appearing on his windowsill despite the fact that he hadn’t gone outside in days. He’d wake up to grass-stained jeans and a scraped knee which Marc didn’t know how he got, for once.

Steven has always been like a crow, bringing all these little gifts for Marc to enjoy—these signs of life—even when he wasn’t aware of it.)

Coming back from Cairo feels like it should’ve been a bigger deal than it was, but after the dust settled on Harrow and Layla decided to return stateside alone—a decision that seemed a long time coming, if Steven’s being honest—there was nothing else to do other than to go home.

They have one blissful, uninterrupted day of sleep. Steven was the one to wake up sixteen hours later, mouth dry, and instinctively panicked at the thought of losing days again before realizing that Marc was also (and still is) out cold.

When he finally woke up a few hours later, half-asleep even in the reflection of the mirror, Steven couldn’t help himself from asking, “What now, Marc?”

Because Marc was the original. Marc was the one with a real life and legal status. He might never want to walk the streets of Chicago again, but that didn’t change the fact that he only came overseas to run away. Everything around them was a temporary measure.

Marc straightens. “I won’t bother you too much, I promise.”

“You still have your own life,” Steven reminds him.

“Still—”

“Oh, don’t start—”

At least they agreed on one thing: they were going to stay in London.

Marc cleans out his storage unit, bringing home an array of bins and duffel bags and that shitty fold-up cot that he still refuses to toss. Steven immediately got him his own dresser when Marc tried to insist that he ‘didn’t have much’; that was a blaring warning that he was about to do something stupid and sacrificial, and Steven had to put his foot down before a nearby charity got a donation of some well-loved button-downs.

It’s almost funny, how predicable Marc was when unpacking. Steven watched as he pushed all their new furniture against the walls then methodically unpacked bin by bin, stacking the empties inside one another like Russian dolls. Like Steven, everything he owned had a place, even after months spent stored away. Marc was just a lot more neat about it.

“Move my stuff if you want,” Steven pipes up. Marc doesn’t react, only continuing to store his notebooks on top of a filing cabinet. “Really, I’ve already read everything on that middle shelf there—we can put them somewhere else.”

Marc glances around the bookshelves. “Aren’t these alphabetized?”

“Well, mostly, but give me an hour or two and I’ll free up some space.”

It’s like a puzzle, and Steven’s always liked puzzles. Marc’s gone quiet in their head, out of excuses as to why he can just shove all his belongings out-of-sight so that Steven wouldn’t have to go through the effort. Now, if he would just believe Steven, then he’d know that reorganizing his books was hardly any effort at all.

And even if it was—he’s been meaning to do this for a while. An alphabetized collection is great until he gets a new book, because then everything has to be shifted over, and—well. There’s a reason why there were so many books languishing on the floor.

They pass off the body like that for the rest of the day, moving things around in the flat in order to accommodate Marc. It looks no less hectic in the end, despite Marc’s best efforts to tidy up a little, but it also doesn’t look any worse, which Steven sees as a win.

There are still so many things they need to talk about. Scheduling, routines, the fact that they’re currently both out of a job—either one would be lying if they said that this new life didn’t make them a bit nervous. But when Marc finally flops down onto their bed, a movement as easy as breathing, the pieces begin to settle into place. The last of his bins have been put away. His jacket hangs beside Steven’s as if it’s always been there.

In the headspace, Steven beams. Whatever comes, however hard—they’ll face it together.

Somehow, Steven wakes up one day and feels great.

There are a few minutes more until his alarm goes off, but he turns it off early. The usual grogginess that accompanies him this early is completely absent, and he rolls up to a seated position without a single mental or physical protest. He feels so good, in fact, that he even considers skipping his morning cup of tea.

(He doesn’t, of course. They quickly figured out—well, Steven did, Marc already knew—that they differed in their caffeinated beverages of choice. Steven, a strong cup of Yorkshire Gold with a healthy splash of milk and a teaspoon or two of sugar. Marc, a simple drip coffee, black, made from the most generic-looking brand of medium roast beans.

Not to say that he wishes to be separate from Marc or anything of the sort, but Steven imagines his feelings to be like that of a sibling who was always dressed in matching clothes as his brother. Marc might’ve graced Steven with an interest in Egyptology from his mercenary work and Gus from his—their?—brother’s drawing a lifetime ago, but as far as they know, his preference for tea was just a quirk.

Steven likes having something just for him.)

Marc had the body last night—he must’ve gone to bed early. Must’ve drank camomile tea and avoided blue light the entire time he was fronting because Steven could run a marathon like this and still go into work afterwards. He’s about to ask Marc for his secret when he spots an unfamiliar rumple of fabric on the pillow where he laid his head.

“What’s this now?” Steven murmurs, gathering the soft material in his hands. A woman’s sweater, obviously, with its feminine cut and style and faintly sweet scent that short-circuits his brain for a moment.

It doesn’t take a genius to realize how it got inside their flat, what with how there’s a whole other person living in his head, and it would explain the strange marks he found on his neck the other day—

Heat blooms in his face and Steven nearly drops the sweater back onto the pillow in embarrassment. Distantly, he knows that he should’ve seen this coming. Marc is Marc; Steven’s witnessed the quiet confidence the man extrudes from inside their headspace and the resulting, ah, attention it attracts.

In the corner of his eye, his reflection stills. Steven doesn’t even bother turning around—just holds up the offending sweater and asks, “Fun night?”

Marc, strangely, is quiet. It’s not like he’s one to talk about his romantic pursuits, but Steven at least expected a dry comment or two. He shakes the sweater like a bag of treats until Marc scowls. “Stop that.”

“Not judging,” Steven says, “but don’t suppose you got a number? Should I make a run to the donation bin for you?”

“No.” There’s an edge to Marc’s voice, and he purses his lips when he realizes that he responded a little too fast; Steven’s questioning look is pointedly ignored. “Just leave it on my desk for now.”

“Is she coming back or is this just like a—” Steven makes an ambiguous gesture, full of innuendo “—thing for you?”

“What? No—what?”

“Okay, okay,” Steven finally lets up because the groove between his alter’s eyebrows has become something fierce. He slips out of bed to place the sweater on Marc’s desk as requested, then throws one more comment over his shoulder for good measure, “Bring her home for dinner one day, would you?”

“Steven!”

“Is that my shirt?” You move towards the armchair, a smile tugging at your lips as you pick up the folded garment. It’s been freshly laundered. Marc wouldn’t burden you if he could help it.

“Mhm.” He doesn’t stir from his seat on the couch, tracking your movements with fondness in his eyes. You’ve been to their place plenty over the past few months and quietly, he relishes in the domesticity.

They’re simple things, like knowing your preferred spoon in their drawer or how you like your toast; the ease in which you curl into the cushions next to him—your spot, he can’t help but note—draws a contented little sigh from him.

“You know, if you want me to do your laundry, you can just ask.”

He would. Steven would prod endlessly as he does with all things related to you, but Marc’s managed to get this far with vague explanations and stubborn hand-waving. He’d endure the nosiness if it were for you.

“Although,” he continues, giving you a once-over. His eyebrow quirks at the familiar cotton long-sleeve enveloping your torso. “I’m not even sure you have laundry anymore.”

“Well, maybe if your clothes weren’t so comfortable, I’d stop stealing them,” you tease.

(His clothes aren’t boring, Steven, just—utilitarian. Between Khonshu and his mercenary work, Marc needed plain, flexible pieces; ones that made him blend in anywhere and ready for anything. Nothing that he could get too attached too, either. Everything he wore was at risk of getting ruined by grime and/or blood and/or tearing from various weapons. Of course, he doesn’t own anything ‘nice.’

Not like Steven. Not with his hodgepodge closet filled with colours and patterns, everything just a tad too large on their frame. Marc groans about it every time he takes over in the middle of the day—just a size down, just one. But the issue is that Steven likes it like that, likes the comfort and roominess he finds in his thrifted pieces, and so Marc dropped it as a serious topic, even though he still doesn’t quite get it.)

“This why you had to wear my jacket the other day?”

Steven’s sudden appearances don’t phase Marc anymore, even when you’re around. He just gives him a slight nod without missing a beat. “At this rate, I won’t have any clothes left for you to take.”

“Guess I’ll just have to borrow something from Steven then, hm?”

Before Marc can even begin to think about what to say to that— “I think my white jumper would suit her really well.”

He shoots a glare into a nearby mirror and just barely catches a glimpse of Steven’s grin in the reflection. Part of him wants to tell Steven to stop hitting on his girlfriend, but hesitates when you look at him expectantly, still waiting for his response.

He’s not ashamed of Steven, far from it. Still, a sliver of self-consciousness worms its way into his chest at the thought of talking to him in front of you. He’s done it before, but—he knows how it can look.

You’re more perceptive than he’d like. Marc sees the moment when it clicks in your head. “Is he here right now?”

Excitement bleeds into your voice. You’ve been wanting to meet Steven for a while. Marc showing up to a date with tousled curls and a colourfully-printed button-up instead of his usual streamlined style, a slew of scribbled papers piled onto the armchair you like to lounge on, a sticky note left on one of your books (‘oooh good choice! x’)—all these things that sent panic strumming through his veins were only ever endearing to you, for some reason. It’s lessened his worry by orders of magnitude.

Still. Letting you meet Steven is one step closer to talking about his childhood. His mom. His brother. He’s given you a high- high-level view of things (“It wasn’t great.”), but the thought of going any further makes his throat tighten. There’s a whole failed marriage that proves his inability to be vulnerable.

So, it must truly be a bout of madness that makes him say, “The white one.”

“What?”

“The white sweater,” Marc continues, because he’s already thrown himself off the bridge—there’s no use trying to backtrack now. “He says you’d look good in his white sweater.”

Your face slowly morphs into an expression of pure joy; you do nothing short of jump off the couch to bolt to their bedroom. Steven chatters excitedly in his ear, only pausing momentarily when you slip off Marc’s shirt.

“Oh! Um! She’s—she’s very—wow—" Marc feels the strangest urge to punch himself in the face again—

—And then you reappear into their field of view, a dream in fine knit. Steven’s sweater be damned, your beaming smile is more than enough to render them both speechless.

“How do I look?”

The sweater isn’t his, but it stirs the same syrupy feelings in Marc anyway. You’ve spoken about it before—and him privately with Steven—where Steven stands in your relationship with Marc. All he’s ever let himself hope for was for you and Steven to be cordial, maybe even friends. Of course, he’d have to actually let you guys speak to each other for any of that to be possible, but you two seem to have grown comfortable with each other regardless.

Now, he sees you in Steven’s clothes and his thoughts run rampant. Ours. He tests out the word and his heart skips a beat. It’s always been a possibility; one you all were open to if it ever happened. But he could never ask either of you to try to love each other on his behalf.

God, that word does something stupid to his brain—Steven’s rattling off compliments and other things of his you should try on and invites to go thrifting—and Marc just sits there, dumbfounded by his own hypothetical scenario. “Come on, Marc, say something!”

You move to stand in front of him, and his thighs part automatically to have you close. It takes your hand on his cheek, gentle as you stroke your thumb over his skin, to pull him back to reality. “You okay?”

“You look incredible.” His voice dips in the way he knowsmakes your stomach swoop, and is promptly rewarded with your flustered smile. The moment doesn’t last—not with Steven cooing in his ear over you.

A pang of possessiveness runs through Marc. That smile was for him, thank you very much.

His mouth works faster than his brain. “Steven has something to tell you.”

You light up. “Really?”

“Wants to tell you himself, actually.”

Steven splutters, nerves coming on in full force. Marc bites his tongue to keep a straight face. “Well, now, hang on a minute—”

Steven’s introduction was always going to be a well-thought-out but casual event, as to not make a circus out of it. It was just who they were, after all. They wouldn’t switch in front of you—Steven would change into his wardrobe and ‘do’ his hair beforehand; Marc worried it might be too much for you to see him but hear Steven. He would’ve prepped you both plenty in the preceding days, regardless of how necessary it was.

It definitely would not be the stunt he’s pulling right now.

Your eyes narrow at the placid look on his face, too casual to not be suspicious, but meeting Steven must outweigh the want to catch Marc in the act of whatever he’s planning because you don’t call him out, hands frozen on his face. It’s cute, watching you struggle between overt enthusiasm and not wanting to pressure them into anything.

Marc would even enjoy it a little longer if it weren’t for the confused and alarmed word vomit spilling out in his head.

“Stop messing about—I mean, it’s not—not odd, yeah? For me to front a little? Just a little chat, can’t be all that bad. Please be messing with me, but I can do it, s’not a big deal. Yeah, yeah, it’s whatever—oh, boy."

Taking pity on the poor guy, Marc quiets him with a steady glance into the mirror. “You sure, buddy?”

Slightly shrill but no less serious, “Are you sure, Marc?”

And then Marc’s fun little charade teeters on its head—is he ready for this? You and Steven wouldn’t hold it against him if he pulled the plug on it all right now, but this is the closest he’s ever gotten. The band-aid has to come off, lest he lets this fester for the length of another relationship.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his flare of panic comforted by the patience in your eyes. More confidently this time, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Steven’s smile is clear in his voice. It mirrors your own.

“About time, innit?”

Moving into their flat isn’t a decision you make all at once, but rather a slow, steady conclusion that you’ve been unintentionally working towards ever since you first visited.

The clothes were just the start. It’s not like you didn’t have perfectly good clothes before you met Marc, but his were just better somehow. Soft and simple, all in that neutral colour scheme he seemed to gravitate towards. The warm, woodsy scent of his aftershave clings to the fabric, making you want to bury your nose into the garments and go right back to the source—

You just couldn’t help yourself from borrowing something whenever you came over.

(That pleased, half-lidded gaze you receive each time you slip on his shirt, or his heated touch whenever he drapes his jacket over your shoulders during chilly morning afters—well. Those are just a bonus.)

So, maybe you left a shirt or two behind in the process. And maybe you realized that you should probably have a pair of sweatpants there as well, and a good book to read during quiet nights in. Once, you forgot your toothbrush only for Marc to pull out an extra from their medicine cabinet; now you have a toothbrush in their bathroom.

After you finally met Steven and his adorable, eclectic self—all bets were off. You bond while scouring vintage shops and finding new pieces for the flat. A little basket of throw blankets gets added to the living room (always neatly sorted by Marc, without fail). Candles—tall and stout, festive and fruity and spiced—start to litter the shelves. A particularly good haul at a used bookstore, a bit heavy for you to carry home, is instead slotted amongst their collection; the contemporary fonts and colourful covers are a stark contrast against the yellowing older texts, and you love it.

Your fingerprints are all over the place by the time Marc officially empties some space in his dresser for you, uncharacteristically avoiding your eyes as he speaks, “Just in case you wanted to keep some more stuff here.”

You were already using their closets before then (in both the storing-your-clothes sense and the stealing-their-clothes sense); you’ve practically taken over one of his drawers. But to give you one outright, to admit that he’s carved out some space just for you instead of silently accommodating your things as he always has—

“Thank you, Marc,” you whisper, brimming with emotion that you wonder if you’ll ever be able to fully express. He’ll flit about and clean and care for you because words will never capture the depth of his feelings. You see this for what it is, like all the gestures that have come before: a declaration.

“Thank you,” you repeat, and press a soft kiss onto the corner of his mouth. “I love you, too.”

It’s not much long after when Steven comes home from work grinning like a madman, one hand held behind his back. He beelines towards you, not even bothering to put his bag down.

“Hey, you.” You peck his lips and feel his smile stretch impossibly wider. “What’s got you all riled up?”

The words come out in a rush. “Havesomethingforyou.”

“Oh?”

“Close your eyes.” You can’t help but laugh a little as you follow the direction; Steven’s excitement is utterly infectious. “Okay, now hold out your hand.”

“If you give me a bug, I swear to God—”

“I would never.” His seriousness is a bit too heavy-handed, and you get a feeling you’re going to need to be on guard for a while.

You’re distracted, however, by the brush of his skin as he places something small and rigid into your palm. The metal is warm from being clasped inside his hand, but the shape is so familiar that you recognize what it is immediately.

“You can open—”

You’re already looking down—at the silver key to the flat nestled in your hand. Lonesome without the Koala plushie on Steven’s keyring, without the little charm you got for Marc’s—no, it’s meant to be your copy.

“We were thinking, right,” he starts before your heart has the opportunity to beat right out your chest, “Marc and I—well, you’re here with us most of the time. You should have your own key. Beats having to come grab mine from the museum, right?”

You let out a choked little laugh, too caught up to remind him that the only reason why you went to the museum was because else he would’ve dropped everything to deliver the keys himself. Spent his entire break and then some to commute back home so that you wouldn’t have to wait for his shift to be over, even though you could’ve amused yourself just fine outside until then.

“Yeah,” is all you manage to get out before stepping forward, burying your face in his chest as you wrap your arms around his torso. Steven’s love is unbridled; he holds you close, going on about how glad he is—how glad they both are—to have you, how he was practically bouncing off the walls at the locksmith, waiting for the key to be cut.

They’ve been your home for so long now that while the new addition onto your keyring makes you giddy and smile stupidly whenever you get to use it, it also just feels right. You go grocery shopping with Marc and watch him scrutinize apples like they personally offended him. Steven tangles your legs together as you wind down in the evenings, and always always smiles whenever he catches you looking at him. You rank the restaurants around the neighbourhood and line your favourite mugs beside each other on the shelf; you sit in the comforting quiet of the flat and wonder how you got so lucky.

When it’s eventually time to renew your lease, there’s no decision to be made. You’re relieved from dinner prep to write the email to your landlord on their couch. It’s sent off with no fanfare and quickly forgotten about when Marc’s voice rings out, asking what you want to eat.

“Anything,” you say, the ghost of a smile on your lips; he hates it when you say that. Marc grumbles a little, but you mean it this time. You have them and they have you. Curled up in one of Steven’s sweaters, Marc’s playlist on low in the background—anything is just fine by you.

You are the bane of Jake’s existence.

First, you meet Marc. Terrible. Khonshu is riding his ass about a mission in Liverpool—they’ve now been geolocked to stay under the radar—and Marc plans a date. An actual, Godforsaken date with a set time, throwing a wrench into their plans because Steven’s been scheduled to work on the surrounding days as well. How is he supposed to sneak off to the other side of the country now?

Even worse, you stick around. There are more dates between the two of you. For how much he hates texting, Marc responds promptly whenever you send him something. He frets over what to wear before picking you up. You stay over at the flat and he holds you in his sleep like he’s afraid you’ll disappear; Jake has been unluckily enough to wake up in the middle of the night, planning to slip away, only to be hit with the scent of your shampoo in his nose.

Then—and then—Marc has the bright idea to introduce you to Steven. The hope that this is just a casual, temporary thing is dashed away the second Jake sees that lovesick expression on the idiota. It’s more overt than Marc’s, but still the same blaring warning sign that Jake’s life is only about to get harder from here.

Keeping a low profile has become incredibly difficult since the others decided to be normal. Marc never questioned whenever Jake took over in a tight spot, too hyped up on adrenaline and too stubborn about their condition to follow up on his blackouts after the fight was done. Steven was clueless about everything for those first few months, then just blamed his blackouts on Marc.

But now? They talk to each other. They have a year-long calendar on the fridge with a magnetic pen holder to keep track of their schedules, colour-coded blue (for Marc) and green (for Steven). They’ve gotten distracted and added another consciousness for Jake to deceive in order to do his thing. He can’t take the body for more than a few hours, and certainly not by force, without drawing suspicion.

Jake’s happy for them. Really, he is. They’ve finally begun to move on from the trauma of their childhood into something that resembles a normal life. Steven’s gotten rehired at the museum as a tour guide. Marc’s taken up security consulting. And despite their respective anxiousness and ten-foot-walls, you bring them peace.

But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s Khonshu’s avatar now. That a lifetime ago, when the work began to wear down on Marc in all the worst ways, Jake was the one who cut a deal with the god for his release. All he had to do was take his place.

(Foresight might not be his strong suit, but he refuses to take responsibility for what happened next. He could never have imagined all the puppetry that’d occur with Layla in the mix, or that they’d actually divorce one of these days and end up with someone new.

Except this time, you know about their system and not about Khonshu. He wonders how well you’d take that whole mess.)

In short—Marc and Steven still need him. He can’t just up and disappear into the recesses of their mind; he has a job to do.

So, when Steven presses that fucking key into your hand, Jake’s so frustrated he could scream. Unfettered access to the flat—as if you weren’t there enough already. As if he weren’t already jumping through every hoop imaginable, just to keep his existence a secret. He would’ve made them drop the copy down the nearest gutter on the way home if he didn’t know that they would simply go right back to the locksmith and ask for another.

Steven watches as you slip it onto your keychain; that all-encompassing, vibrant burst of joy in their chest be damned—you are the worst thing to ever happen to Jake, even if you might be the best thing to ever happen to them.

Steven had the flat, Marc had his storage unit, and Jake?

Jake has his car.

Multiple, actually, but the limousine is the legal one (thanks for your identity, Marc) and serves as his homebase. Supplies are stashed in compartments around the cabin—weapons, clothes, cash—and with its heavily tinted windows, he can do anything he wants inside and passersby would be none the wiser. When Khonshu’s booming voice echoes around his brain about some new target, at least Jake can recline into a soft leather seat.

The only issue is that he can’t keep everything there. No, the parking garage is a fair distance away from the flat and sometimes, he doesn’t have the opportunity to make the trip before setting off. This means that he has to keep a change of clothes in the flat to avoid accidentally ruining some of Steven’s or Marc’s. He’d never actually wear anything of Steven’s to begin with (at least, not on a mission), but Marc’s wardrobe is minimal by choice—if something went missing or got a new, unexplained hole in it, he’d notice.

That’s why Jake is currently slinking through their living room, ready to change back into Steven’s pajamas before hiding his clothes on the loft above their bed. Nothing up there but empty bins and poster tubes. Marc regularly dusts the area during his monthly deep cleans, so Jake doesn’t even have to worry about leaving behind any tracks.

It was an easy job tonight, done in little less than an hour and not a speck on Jake to show for it. He could take a shower if he wanted—you’re staying over at a friend’s place right now, as noted in red on the calendar. But he shouldn’t keep the body for longer than necessary; they still need sleep, after all.

He slips off his flat cap, groaning as he runs a hand through his hair. God, they’re getting old. Even this stolen hour will be felt by whoever wakes up in the morning, slightly slower and groggier than usual.

(Jake doesn’t think about the future—has never needed to. The only future that exists to him is the next minute, and the minute after that, and what he has to do to ensure the body makes it there. Him and Marc were similar in that aspect for a long, long time.

That calendar on the fridge, while helpful to his vigilantism, stirs something uncomfortable in his gut. He’s seen them flip through the months to mark down birthdays and reservations. Vacations, work events—Marc’s going on a completely normal, non-violent work trip, which Jake still can’t quite wrap his head around—and it’s all so far ahead.

How can they be so sure that nothing will change between now and then? That their life won’t blow up again, and force them on the run? Everything they add is just another handful of salt to be pressed into the wound when it all goes to hell. But they still write things on that stupid calendar. Confident, excited even, about the plans they think will come to pass.

How do they know?)

There’s a rustling in the bedroom.

Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck—

“Marc?”

You shift a little under the covers, trying to peer at him through the darkness. Jake’s never been more grateful for Marc’s sensible taste in fashion; with only a silhouette to go by, of course you’d mistake him for Marc—straight-cut jeans, a collared jacket. His flat cap would tip you off though, and he presses it into his chest to hide it from your line of sight. Marc would never wear a flat cap.

He forces a casual tone. “Hm?”

A small sigh of relief escapes you as your head falls back onto the pillow. Still watching him, though, you mumble, “Bad dream?”

You know about Marc’s time in the military and as a mercenary. Not everything, obviously, but enough. Jake nods, and can imagine the worried purse of your lips in the shadows. In the best impression he can manage, his accent turns Chicagoan. “Just had to take a walk.”

If he were really Marc, he’d already be in bed by now, letting you brush curls away from his face and press a kiss against the furrow of his brow. If he were really Marc, he’d ask you why you were back here instead of with your friends as expected, and you’d talk things out until dozing off in a tangle of limbs, comforted by each other’s presence.

But Jake’s not Marc. He brushes off the subtle tightening of his chest as just a lingering remnant from his alters. The body knows you, even if Jake doesn’t. It doesn’t mean anything to him.

You whine, a sleepy and pitiful but inviting noise from the back of your throat as he continues to stand in the living room. Alarm bells go off in his head; he has to placate you before you get up and try to drag him over yourself.

“Just need to change,” he says, soft and low, warmth injected into every word. Nausea courses through him, to his own confusion, as he continues to play Marc. This should be easier—he’s been hiding for as long as he can remember. This is probably the tamest thing he’s done to keep his cover. “Go back to sleep, I’ll be there in a second, okay?”

He takes two steps towards the kitchen then stops, feigning—feigning something, fuck if he knows—waiting for your breathing to level out again. Silence falls over the flat, but Jake’s mouth runs dry.

There’s no way you don’t bring this up to them in the morning, and there’s no way they won’t immediately suspect another alter. They know he exists, have seen the aftermath of when he fronts. It’s only his secrecy that has kept them off his back for this long, and it will all come crashing down in a few hours.

For better or for worse, he’ll have to meet the others soon.

Marc will never tire of waking up beside you. Even though there’s a heaviness weighing him down, body aching for just a few more minutes, he pushes through because you’re already awake. With one hand on his chest, the other tracing over his jaw—the small, lazy smile on your face has already made his day.

You turned over while he was asleep, but his arm is still slung over your waist; he pulls you closer to press a kiss onto your forehead. Lips moving against your skin, “Morning, baby.”

“Morning,” you murmur. “Feel better?”

Mind hazy from sleep, Marc doesn’t question the odd wording. He just let’s himself settle into the lingering fatigue, leaning into your touch as his eyes flutter shut again. “M’tired. Stay with me a little longer?”

Concern laces your tone. “Was the dream that bad?”

That breaks through to him. He peers at you curiously, more alert than before. “What do you mean?”

You blink, confused. “Your nightmare last night. You left to take a walk?”

Marc sits up, furrowing his brow. Reality seeps in, and he checks the date on his phone. Aren’t you supposed to be—? “I thought you were staying over at a friend’s place.”

“I was going to, but she had a family emergency—I came back here around three. Don’t worry, they walked me home,” you explain with a soft pat of your hand at the end. That—that is one mystery solved, and he is glad to hear that you weren’t walking alone at night, but his shoulders remain taut with tension. His mind gets caught on a detail.

“Three?” He’s a light sleeper, he would’ve woken up when you came into bed. But—your words replay in his mind. He wasn’t here when that happened, was he? “I went on a walk?”

His stress begins to spill over to you, and you prop yourself up on an elbow, fiddling at the blankets. “Um, yeah. We spoke a little when you came back—I was already in bed, remember?”

A pit opens up in his stomach, and the words die in this throat. Marc does not, in fact, remember. He apparently went outside in the middle of the night, long enough for you to come home and settle in without him, then had a whole conversation upon return—and none of it is familiar to him. Not even a hint of déjà vu.

He throws off the covers, on his feet in seconds despite your protests. All hisblackouts, the ones he thought were finished after traversing the Duat—

That third sarcophagus—

Is this what it was like for Steven? To wake up, not knowing what your body has done, where it’s been—if it’s hurt someone?

Marc might actually puke if he thinks about it for too long. And God, you live with them now: him, Steven, and what Marc wishes was a complete unknown. But the truth is—they aren’t an unknown. No, Marc is fully aware of what this alter is capable of.

“Oh, bugger, what’s going on?” Steven must feel his panic, reflects it in kind. He must be expecting bloodshed with how fast their heart is racing.

Marc says nothing and flings open the tri-mirror on the wall, bracing himself with both hands on the sink below. He sees himself in the center, a bull primed to fight. Steven’s to the left, so fearful he’s nearly frozen still. And to the right—

To the right—

So. Jake hasn’t really prepared for this situation, to be honest.

He’ll face anything head-on to keep the body safe, but imagining himself as the threat? Never crossed his mind. There’s anger in their blood, and Marc’s liable to cracking the porcelain with his grip. If looks could kill, Jake would be dead ten times over.

The few times he wondered what it would be like to actually meet Marc and Steven, the worst that could happen was that they disliked him. Unfortunate, but he’d live. He didn’t need their approval to do his job.

But through the blood rushing in their ears, he can hear you; still in bed, barely breathing as you watch everything unfold. And that’s when he remembers—

You are the bane of his existence.

Because Marc and Steven aren’t just thinking about their own self-preservation. No, now they have you to protect, and the lengths that they would go to do that, well—Jake begrudgingly has to admit that they might rival some of his own efforts for them.

He’d let them stare at themselves forever in the mirror if it weren’t for that fact. They would never give up on trying to talk to him. Steven was clever enough with the sand and tape and ankle restraint; he doesn’t want to think about what sort of traps they’d create with Marc in the mix. Jake would probably still evade them all, but they’d drive themselves crazy in their attempts.

They’ve really left him no choice. For the first time, he lets himself be seen.

You’ve watched Marc and Steven talk to each other plenty of times. It’s really no big deal. They’re just normal conversations where you can only hear one side, and usually taken through the nearest reflective surface.

But this? This is an interrogation. Marc slackens his jaw for just a moment before everything in him tenses again. He speaks through clenched teeth, as if barely controlling the severity of his thoughts—you can’t help but brace yourself for impact. “Who are you?”

The pause as he waits for the other alter, whoever they are, to respond is maddening. It wasn’t quite fear that gripped you when you realized that it wasn’t Marc last night—to be honest, you don’t know what to feel—but the scene in front of you has you reevaluating your initial reaction.

That initial reaction being, well—the same thing you felt when you Marc told you about Steven: curiosity. You wanted to meet Steven. Almost begged for the chance near the end. Whoever this is—

“Jake.”

The name grates itself out of Marc’s throat, and you cling to the information like a life raft.

“Jake.” You can’t help but test it out on your tongue, squinting a little as you look at your boyfriend and try to see yourself calling him that. Marc looks towards you. There’s a storm of emotions in his eyes, but there’s no time to decipher any of them—a moment later, he turns back towards the mirror with a scowl.

“Why should I believe you?” The lines on his face deepen; Marc grits his teeth so hard you yearn to hold him, but you’re frozen to the spot.

“I don’t know that. After you—” his eyes dart between you and his reflection so fast, you might’ve imagined it “—after what you’ve done?”

A wave of dread washes over you.

He’s not talking about last night.

No, Marc—Marc has interacted with Jake before, and whatever happened must’ve crossed a line. Must’ve crossed several lines because of how he’s acting right now, and you want to bury yourself under the covers, still fisted tightly in your hands.

He laughs bitterly. The sound rakes through your ears. “You call that protecting us?”

Your blood runs cold. With no real context and spiked with adrenaline, your mind runs rampant with the possibilities, connects all the worst dots.

There’s no way—

“Lay a hand on her and I swear—”

You want to run and you want to hide and you want their arms around you, assuring you of—of anything. You need to leave this building and also never go outside again, because your head begins to pound with each thought that passes through.

You can still see the worry flare in Marc’s eyes when you accidentally grabbed the handle of a hot pan, the dutiful and tender way he held your hand under the tap for no less than fifteen minutes—

You can still hear Steven’s babbling when your new shoes rubbed your ankles red and raw while on a walk, distracting you from the pain the best he could until you got back home—

You are just so acutely aware of their love—that Marc and Steven would never dare hurt you. It’s impossible to reconcile your memories of them with the picture that’s being painted of Jake right now.

No. You can’t believe it.

You’re not even hearing their conversation anymore, your heartbeat is too loud. Breathing returns to you in a rush—you never even realized you stopped—and your vision swims with light-headedness.

None of it makes sense.

It—it can’t—

The mattress dips beside you, but you barely feel it. Someone’s cupping your cheeks, grounding you back into the flat, your home, and you know these hands. You know this voice, soothing in your ear, even as you shut your eyes.

They say that they’re sorry. They say that you’ll be okay.

They call you princesa.

It feels strange walking around the flat, knowing that he’s welcome there now.

Jake’s seen every nook and cranny through Marc and Steven, but to actually be able to explore the place himself—he’s like a kid in a toy store. He can’t help but run his fingers over everything. The spines on the bookshelves, the mismatched dishware in the cabinets. That velvet throw pillow, which you are so fond of playing with during movies—yeah, he gets it.

He’s not going to be talking to you for a while, though. After his rocky first meeting with Marc and Steven, which also coincides with the absolute worst possible first meeting with you—

It’s best to steer clear for a while.

Jake let the other two do the explaining. He watched silently as Marc told you about his past—told you about why he was discharged from the Marines and the scenes he’d wake up to after Jake had fronted—hands shaking as they held onto yours. He watched as Steven took over when it got to be too much, adding in the finer details and clarifications, steadier but no less genuine than Marc. Their arms were gentle as Steven held you in their lap, patient as you stumbled through how you felt.

“Marc seemed so mad at Jake.” You clutched at Steven’s shirt, sniffling into his neck. “I didn’t know what was happening, I—I was scared.”

No. Jake furiously shakes his head as if it would jostle the memory out of his brain. Just thinking about it threatens to unravel him, and he has to keep it together. He’s on thin ice as is.

You had been the one to temper their emotions—the sight of you panicking on their bed grinding all other issues to a halt. The conversation couldn’t continue until you were okay, and this time, Steven kept you in the loop.

Steven is wary. Steven needles him about what he’s been doing all this time, asks him what he’s going to do now with short little mhms. Steven is also the one to buy a new set of pens (because black is already used for non-individual specific events) and designates him as orange.

Marc doesn’t trust Jake at all and admits it outright. It’s—it stings more than he thought it would, but he understands. He always knew that Marc would take a while to come around, especially with you to consider—

Jake doesn’t know why he worries so much about your opinion. Protecting you is an extension of protecting the body, but he never used to care about what Marc or Steven had to say. He hates the caution in your voice when you talk about him and can’t help but appreciate you trying anyways.

He pinches himself. You’re not his to think about, period.

Acknowledging his existence also, sort of, comes with accepting it. Steven somehow finds the space for another dresser in their already cramped bedroom. Jake doesn’t even have enough possessions in general to fill that thing—not counting all the weapons and ammo that Marc would definitely have their head for if he brought them into the flat.

It’s an olive branch on both sides, though. They’re committing to having him around. He’s committing to being around, instead of lurking in the background of their lives.

His clothes only fill up the first drawer but—it’s nice. Jake stares at the thing a lot more than a used, scratched-up piece of furniture probably warrants. He can barely admit it to himself but this, all of it—going outside during the day, eating a freshly-cooked meal, even just relaxing in bed without immediately trying to go to sleep in order to Protect the Body—it really is just nice.

(Since when did he describe anything as nice?)

Then—your keys turn in the door.

Jake hits the eject button so fast, Steven’s probably going to get whiplash.

“Nice reflexes,” he grumbles as you enter the flat. It was funny the first few dozen times. Now? That twat’s just being a coward.

“I’m home!” You call out as Steven rounds the corner to greet you, tote bag nearly bulging in your hand. He pecks your lips as he helps you out of your jacket, then hangs it up beside the three others on the rack. “There was a little creators’ market in the park—you should’ve seen it!”

“Think I’m seeing it now,” he chuckles, moving to help you with your tote. You slink past him at the last second, grinning. “Come on, love, show us what you got!”

“They’re gifts! Just hang on.” You place the bag on the dining table and enraptured, he pulls up a stool. His head rests on his chin as he waits for you to unpack. “Okay, first, for Marc—”

You reach your hand inside and reveal a pair of black leather gloves. Not driving gloves like Jake’s—there’re far less embellishments all around. But they’re warm and flexible, perfect for colder weather. Inside, the lining is made with a material so soft that when trying one on, Steven can’t help but laugh a little in disbelief.

“Treading on my territory, pendejo?”

Marc snipes back, “Like you own a monopoly on leather gloves.”

Steven lets Marc pull to the front. An easy smile spreads on his face as he flexes his hand, testing his movement. “Thanks, baby. I really like them.”

He takes your chin into his gloved hand to thank you properly, slotting his lips against yours with no shortage of appreciation. His grip is an anchor, holding you in place as he kisses you, deep and languid. Like you have all the time in the world despite the heat flickering across his skin. When Marc gets like this, it’s not long before you start squirming under him, and your hands paw at his neck for something more.

That’s his cue to finally pull away, smirking as he traces your bottom lip with his thumb. Whether it’s the leather or him or both, he can see the effect on you, the dazed look you give him when you bat your eyes open.

Let Jake try and beat that.

“Oi! Share!”

Marc sighs. Drops his forehead to yours and reluctantly doesn’t continue any further. “Steven wants his gift now.”

“Oh,” you laugh a little, realizing the situation you’ve put yourself in. “Maybe I should’ve done Steven’s first.”

Marc steals one more kiss before retreating again, and Steven is back, clearly eager for many different reasons now. After putting Marc’s new gloves to the side, you don’t make him wait a second longer; you pull out a stunning new button-up, deep navy with a pattern of large teal palm leaves and hints of salmon accents all over.

All traces of joy disappear from Marc’s voice. “Oh, my fucking God.”

“She’s an enabler. I can’t believe it.”

Steven gapes, amazed. “How did you—”

“I had to go digging,” you admit, gesturing widely. “There were so many racks, we need to go back! I only had my one bag!”

“There’s no way people actually buy this stuff.”

“Ahh, well, it’s not that bad—"

“Are you kidding me?”

Ignoring the fashion police in his head, Steven immediately switches shirts and tosses the old one somewhere behind him. Based on Marc’s grunt, he missed the couch, but also can hardly find himself to care.

He doesn’t even bother doing up the buttons, because he knows where you’ll put your hands when he descends upon your face. Kiss after kiss on your cheeks, forehead, and nose, and soon enough you’re giggling loudly into the air. Your hands are warm against his bare torso, pulling him closer even as their stubble tickles your skin.

“Stevie—Steven! There’s one more!”

He’s not letting you off that easily, though, and finally captures your lips with his. That does buy him a few more blissful seconds until you manage to push him away; breathing heavily, you point sternly in his direction—behave.

Steven schools his expression into one of perfect obedience, teasing, but you barely even react. With one glance back down at the table, it’s like the tote bag sucked away your excitement, leaving shy uncertainty in its wake. You’re biting your lip as you reach for the last gift, quiet.

Marc hums, trying to figure out what’s wrong. Steven offers you an encouraging little smile and is about to say something when you produce the last gift in a rush, still not meeting their eyes.

It’s a simple wool scarf, colour-blocked in soft browns and greys. He waits as you fiddle with it in your hands, trying to find the words.

“He doesn’t have a scarf,” you blurt out. When Steven doesn’t respond immediately, you continue. “Jake, I mean—I don’t think he has one. I thought it would be nice.”

He follows your gaze to the coat rack near the door, filled with four sets of outerwear. It clearly doesn’t fit all the jackets owned in the household, but his favourite is hung up next to Marc’s, which is hung up beside your overcoat and Jake’s collared jacket. Various cold weather accessories are layered onto the hooks as well, multiple pairs of gloves, hats—but there are only three scarves.

Come to think of it, Steven hasn’t seen Jake ever wear a scarf either. “You’re right, love. Doesn’t his neck get cold? I know our neck gets cold.”

The corners of your mouth tug up a little and he grins, triumphant. He tunes into his head, making sure he doesn’t miss any of Jake’s reaction, but nothing comes. That’s odd. It doesn’t feel like he’s gone, more like—holding his breath.

“Think he’ll like it?” You tilt your head, though your true question is clear on your face.

The words can’t come out of Jake fast enough. “I’m not here right now.”

“Jesus, man.”

Steven huffs but covers for his alter; they’ll press him about it another time. “Once he sees it, I don’t think he’ll ever take it off.”

The gloves and scarf are added to the coat rack, which is liable to falling over one of these days due to the heavy load it’s carrying. With no shortage of complaining from Marc, Steven picks up his discarded shirt and tosses it into the laundry basket. It’s almost full—he makes a note to do a load later this week.

He must look ridiculous, parading around in an undone button-up, but you have nothing but fondness for him when he returns to cuddle with you on the couch. You’ve changed into Marc’s sweater and have to move no less than five decorative pillows in order to make enough space.

Marc makes a distressed noise when Steven throws one of them to the side. “It’s fine—”

It hits the standing lamp and you both freeze as you watch it teeter on its base, creaking ominously. After a moment, it steadies again.

“It’s only fine because of your weak throw.”

Steven splutters as he pulls you into his side. “We have the same arm!”

They bicker about the mechanics of their body, whether muscle memory crosses over when they switch or not. Marc is squarely of the opinion: No. Steven reminds him of when he punched the Jackal, and the conversation continues to devolve. Jake refrains from getting involved but spurs them on regardless with a well-placed snicker here and there.

It’s an aimless argument that has you burying your face in your hands because you’re laughing too hard; one of many that have taken place and one of many that have yet to occur.

In the morning, Marc will cook you breakfast and throw an eggshell into the bin from across the kitchen just to prove a point. Steven will go back to the market with you to buy armfuls of his favourite clothing and home goods, and he’ll add one more to his bag for every snide comment Marc makes. And Jake—

Jake will take a little while longer until he feels ready to speak to you, but you see the scarf gather raindrops and the warm, woodsy smell of their aftershave as he wears it every time he goes outside. Always see it hung up neatly on the rack, on top of his jacket so it can properly dry.

And with all four of you settled in, their cluttered little flat in London—long overflowing with books and clothes, your favourite comforts and some truly unique furniture—finally started to feel complete.

#moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight fanfic #my writing #mk bingo 2024

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agendabymooner · 9 months

Text

stop the world i wanna get off with you ! kimi r. x ofc (coppola!ofc)

“with the exception of you, i dislike everyone in the room.”

summary: vera jones ‘coppa’ coppola-raikkonen happens to be one of the three original it girls of formula one. funnily enough, she’s also the one to give birth to the loudest/messiest versions of the iceman as she continues her journey as a mother and a wife (all while she’s a director of the most iconic movies to have existed).

content warning: fictional raikkonen kids, mentions of breakups, mentions of tilly hearth and trish alonso (ofc) use of explicit language, family banters in social media

note: i know i have the most random selection of drivers on my masterlist but i swear i’m just tryna indulge in my lil bubble of happiness.

masterlist

tagged romaraikkonen, kimimatiasraikkonen

liked by arthurleclerc, olliebearman, charles_leclerc

user1 icegirl on fire as always 🧊🔥

user2 real hot girl shit of you roma 😩

arthurleclerc aroma, you’re supporting the wrong leclerc 😀 liked by veracopparaikko

romaraikkonen i can tell you that my shirts are nothing of an inchident. trust. liked by veracopparaikko

charles_leclerc i cannot believe i am being picked on by my favourite icegirl 😠

romaraikkonen hardly picking on you when i got ur name and face on my shirts??? smh i didn’t ask mum to get them for me to get called a h8r

rooraikkonen cool story maniac, can you run over jolauriraikkonen next?

romaraikkonen i’ll start with you first then i go target johann next, yes?

jolauriraikkonen what did i do??? i didn’t leave your pc plugged in, akka rooraikkonen witch

veracopparaikko kimimatiasraikkonen your kids are at it again, kimi.

kimimatiasraikkonen not my problem

veracopparaikko 😠

jolauriraikkonen it’s okie mum i’ll make sure dad sleeps on the couch tonight 😉

jolauriraikkonen dad did say 3 sprint races win = i get to go to the next three races too 😍 thank you for the team effort romaraikkonen liked by veracopparaikko

romaraikkonen omagaaaaa these are officially the worst races ever

ferraridriveracademy how are we going to put you two together in one room then?

romaraikkonen don’t.

jolauriraikkonen i’m gonna sob, this is a w for me

romaraikkonen what are you even doing up??? aren’t u like 14?

veracopparaikko question is: why are you even on your instagram? 🤨

jolauriraikkonen oh so when dad does it, it’s okay? he has to get up early too you know???

kimimatiasraikkonen please don’t involve me in this

user3 we love an unproblematic king 😭😭

user4 why are these kids so funny 🥲

kimimatiasraikkonen so proud of my girl 🧊❤️ liked by veracopparaikko

romaraikkonen like father like daughter 😉❤️🤝

tagged rooraikkonen, kimimatiasraikkonen

liked by landonorris, tillywolff, valterribottas

jolauriraikkonen 1/10. she looked more like the bottom of beetlejuice’s foot than the lady herself.

user1 naw johann-lauri got kimi’s humour for sure

rooraikkonen i’m gonna crash to your kart next time and you’re going to be crying to dad and dad will literally just laugh at you

kimimatiasraikkonen no, i won’t.

user2 LMFAO KIMI PLEASE

jolauriraikkonen hahahahahahaha cry

kimimatiasraikkonen second time this day, johann. next time i’m taking the switch. liked by veracopparaikko

user3 ruh-roh raikkonen is at it

jolauriraikkonen my bad g 🤝

kimimatiasraikkonen all good g 🤝

user4 a proof that johann is kimi-coded ^^

rooraikkonen thank you sooooo much mummy !!! i thought i was going to cry for a minute then i realized how much of a baddie my mummy-producer-writer-director is 😭😩 liked by veracopparaikko

veracopparaikko you fluster me, rooney tunes! ❤️

kimimatiasraikkonen your performance is very good, rooroo! henrik and betty were excited to see you on stage 😍 liked by veracopparaikko

rooraikkonen dad, betty-elina can barely hear from that headphones we got her.

rooraikkonen though i could hear henrik’s screaming during the intermission. 😂

rooraikkonen thank you daddy !! i’m glad i’m making the iceman proud 🧊💕 liked by veracopparaikko

tagged kimimatiasraikkonen, jolaurisraikkonen

liked by arthurleclerc, olliebearman, fernandoalo_oficial

jolauriraikkonen y’all cannot one up my mother because her resume is long as heck. she’s: mother, director, writer, actor, producer, photographer 😎 liked by veracopparaikko

jolauriraikkonen look at me and the boys though 😎

user1 you’re the coolest brother ever

rooraikkonen bc he’s the only brother henrik got 😂😂😂

user2 iceman and his iceboys and his ice cream

user3 too cold in here lads 🥶

romaraikkonen look at my cool lil man and dad 😍 oh and johann liked by veracopparaikko

jolauriraikkonen count ur days bestie

user4 where did the american-italian look go, vera?? 😭

rooraikkonen speaking on behalf of mum. the coppola genes had gone away as soon as romania came out, but uncle nicolas cage definitely did not leave

user4 subtle flex but okay pop off bestie 🔥

kimimatiasraikkonen such handsome boys liked by veracopparaikko

veracopparaikko i agree

romaraikkonen so do i

rooraikkonen me too

jolauriraikkonen i agree too

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jorjafrozen · 24 days

Text

trolls headcanons because i’m bored!! i have a couple other posts on my @obesessedwithjohndory account however im posting this from my phone and can’t get into that account on here but anyways enjoy the hcs <3

john dory and branch hatched early, bruce and floyd were late, clay was right on time

john dory is named after rosipuff’s husband/ the boys’ grandpa who died before he was born

john dory gives branch a pair of old goggles and he wears them whenever they go to events etc

the glasses branch wears in both ‘perfect’ scenes in the movie originally belonged to john dory when he was a baby

john dory is like spencer from icarly, they always tease him for never having friends his own age etc because he lives in pop village and hangs around with branch, floyd, poppy etc and they’re significantly younger than him

bruce’s favourite song is the copacabana

bruce loves seeing his kids play with their uncles

sometimes when critics come to review his restaurant he gets his brothers to come for support because despite them always leaving good reviews he always gets really anxious

bruce would love the troll version of gordon ramsay but would definitely not want him coming to his restaurant because he’d probably pass away

his kids didn’t believe he was in a band because he was very hesitant of putting brozone songs on etc

he teaches them the old choreography

clay has made his bedroom very cosy despite it being in the admin building of the golf course like it’s got fairy lights and photos of his bros + poppy & viva

clay has had a crush on viva ever since he first met her when they were little

he rarely brushes his hair, not because he doesn’t want to, just because he forgets because he’s busy doing his cpa work

clay has 2 sad book clubs, one for his friends (even though he calls them his associates) and one for his bros, viva + poppy

floyd has lots of piercings, eyebrow, lip, ears, nose etc

he was definitely wild in his teenager years, always partying, drinking and whatnot

he’s had A LOT of boyfriends in the 20 years they were apart, mainly pop or rock trolls

hes very rebellious for the first couple months after they all reunite, he’s always like “i beat death, what do you mean i can’t go skydiving?”

floyd and barb would be best friends

he’s the one to help his brothers stop arguing after a fight, it’s almost giving “don’t be like this, this isn’t like you” (☠️☠️)

branch has a lot of collectible items he found over the years when he was in his grey state

sometimes to have a laugh he’ll steal john dory’s goggles and hide them somewhere in the bunker just to see him stress out looking for them, and they’re al air usually in an obvious spot like on top of a cupboard or something

john dory gave him an old photo album and he likes looking through it because he likes seeing all his brothers when they were younger

branch is a lightweight

sometimes when he’s with john dory, he’ll subconsciously rest his head on his shoulder and has fallen asleep a handful of times

and he had most definitely called john dory dad more than once

hope you liked these!!!! <3

#trolls #trolls band together #dreamworks trolls #trolls brozone #trolls john dory #trolls movie #trolls branch #trolls bruce #trolls clay #trolls 3 #trolls floyd #john dory #brozone #brozone headcanons #trolls headcanons

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infriga · 8 months

Text

I convinced my mom to try the live action One Piece, because she's the type to like this style of show even though she isn't into animation and would never read manga, but I didn't think I'd be able to convince my dad because he's usually a stickler for more grounded and realistic stories (his favourite genre is war movies, his favourite movie is Saving Private Ryan, for reference). But, when I brought up with him how I figured it probably wouldn't be his thing because it was fantasy, he mentioned to me that he does enjoy some fantastical stuff if it has like an internal universe logic, like Star Wars, and the more I thought about it, the more I remembered that he also enjoys campy fun action adventure stuff that doesn't take itself too seriously like Indiana Jones or Pirates of the Carribean.

And One Piece has both that internal logic for why people can perform crazy feats (even if it isn't explained right away) which I mentioned to him (just that there is a reason why people can do crazy things in this world), as well as the campy fun action adventure thing going for it, especially in the Live Action (the fight against Morgan's base even has a major Indiana Jones vibes ngl). So I explained that to him and asked if he wanted to try it, and he agreed to watching the first episode with me to decide if he'd watch it with my mom and me.

AND HE ACTUALLY SAID IT WAS INTERESTING SO FAR!! Like, he is NOT the kinda guy to enjoy anime or manga or even western cartoons, always refuses to watch anything anime and doesn't show any interest when I talk about it (I've managed to convince him to watch a few movies like Sword of the Stranger but it's obvious that even when he's not bored or doesn't hate it, it still doesn't catch or keep his interest), and he's really picky about anything fantasy or SciFi, if it like sets off his bullshit meter too much he starts nitpicking the logic behind certain abilities, or decisions, or explanations, etc. I once tried to get him to try Gravity Falls and he wanted to stop after the first episode. He's THAT picky.

So the fact that he actually laughed several times while watching the first episode of OPLA with me, commented about Luffy's character positively several times (he seems to think Luffy is really funny which surprised me cause I thought he'd be the most entertained by Zoro but I mean I can't blame him it is Luffy after all), never cringed or criticised or said anything about how ridiculous it was, means a lot coming from him cause he's always really blunt and honest about his opinion on this sort of stuff (which is fine I don't want him to pretend to enjoy stuff when he doesn't). He actually watched the whole first episode without it losing his attention, and seemed to have fun! And he agreed to watch the rest with my mom and me!

This sort of thing is one of the reasons why I dislike when people just dismiss the idea of live action adaptations entirely. I get that people are jaded with past failures, and don't like when live action is treated like a replacement for or improvement from animation when it isn't. But it is a valid medium just as much as animation or comics or writing are, and can be used to produce some amazing things. And the fact is, there are people who have a hard time connecting with other mediums who will otherwise never engage with this media in its original forms. Live Action, when done well and done right, can reach new audiences and welcome them into the fold in ways the original formats never can.

One Piece didn't need the live action to be popular, obviously, and the live action cannot and will not replace the original, nor should it. But I love that we get to have it alongside the manga and anime. It's just more of what we love, it's the cherry on top of an already stellar multi-layered cake. It complements the original rather than taking anything away from it. And for the first time in over a decade I might be able to share One Piece with my parents, who would only ever have a chance of experiencing it and enjoying it in live action. There's just something so awesome about that for me personally. I just wish more live action adaptations would understand what the One Piece live action understood about the adaptation process, and that's how to keep the heart of the story in-tact, so more people from more fandoms could have a chance to share something they love with more people who it would otherwise not reach.

Anyway, thank you Oda and the OPLA cast and crew for doing live action right for once!

#one piece #one piece live action #OPLA #When Luffy was talking about breaking into the marine base my dad was like #'he seems like he's got a lot of confidence going for him' with a grinnand a chuckle #And then when Luffy was talking to Nami in the base my dad said something like 'other people seem to have a hard time saying no to him'#Also with a grin and a laugh #And bro if my dad becomes a Luffy fan too I will explode #Like he did laugh at Zoro and Nami a few times but he had the most to say about Luffy and none were complains #He didn't even seem to blink an eye at Luffy calling out attack names lmao #Long post #Just your regularly scheduled post where I gush about OPLA for too long #Tv show thoughts #It's not even that my parents have anything against animation they just for some reason have a really hard time getting immersed in it #Or connecting to what's happening #Even when they try something for my sake they just can't really get enthusiastic about it the way they can for live action stuff #Which I mean some people just don't vibe with certain mediums and that's okay

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thecrustiestpurp · 11 months

Text

Genius writing of Pavitr Prabhakar

They made an ass of a spiderman in theory yet he's my favourite out of all of them and naturally I'm thinking why.

Ignoring the aesthetic aspects like his sick design and his distinctive web slinging style. I think it's most interesting how they do this through the writing, the way they tackle his fatal flaw, his fat ego and blind optimism by creating a really sharp interval logic and communicating this within the space of 15 minutes.

We understand that his big ego is all earnest and out of naivite rather than him putting down others. He just so happens to be the best and perfect, and therefore everything is great for him. He was given a blessing at a very young age to be a spider and he happens to be good at it of course he's going to be prideful how can it not be. And why would he not gloat, he's a perfect guy perfect grades perfect hair and he knows that makes him special. Especially considering the rest of the Spider-Verse, having a perfect one like Pavitr is unexpected so we're at least intrigued by him.

But why do we like him despite characters with perfect lives and a big ego typically being frustrated. Using his humour the writers made his introduction it as playful as possible so we laugh at how him you know. One of the first things he says is "being Spiderman is so easy" and knowing he's been at it for 6 months it's super funny. He's also relatable, the successes he points out, skipping working out because he has a perfect body, having a girlfriend her parents don't know about, doing well in school are all things that are relatable to us especially if you're Indian, it feels like a real student who's living their best like. Also playfulness is maintained when they go to unglitch spots thing the collider scene, he treating it with even less seriousness "just another easy day of being spiderman" he says and is subsequently blown up - it's funny. We also can't get annoyed during that scene really being invasive to Miles' attempts and channelling the electricity so he's not being frustrating to us or to Miles, just a little naive. We can get humour from it but we also understand this as a flaw too because of the dramatic irony, we're hinting that he's not supposed to think this way.

They also give him the nice internal logic making his mindset sympathetic by testing it within the movie. In the saving India scene, what's most notable is the line "I can do both" turning his idealism into tragedy when he's faced between saving his girlfriend and saving his girlfriends dad. The surrounding microelements and whatnot making the atmosphere feel dire which contributes to the tragedy. But it's that were seeing the life that he easily lives turning on its head. His mentality given definition as a this it will work out so long as I do it, a noble origin for his confidence. Though he knows he's special but he doesn't think he's any more valuable. "do both" showing no real bias towards to what directly affects him - he can empathise with his girlfriend and recognise loosing her and her dad would be devastating. He's not egotistical like thinking he's better than others, he's empathetic and values the people he saves as well as the people they value. The words "do both" colours his saving as this as being an overexertion, he's unaware of what he can't do solidifying his perspective of viewing this as easy coming from a place of naivite. Additionally he has to be the one to save people - "I can do both" - and this is why being Spider-Man is easy for him, it has to be. This all makes him more understandable and the fact this is clearly failing him and tragically makes him sympathetic. Moreover, we care about the love for his girlfriend and for his people because it was fun hearing him explain it earlier so its even more sympathetic that he's loosing what he loves. I think this also stops being a careful what you wish for where we could reproach him because of the scenery we understand him to have.

It seems more he does everything because he's so loving, and he just so happens to be blessed and stuff. Which is super enjoyable to watch! and this burst of characterisation happens in like 20 minutes so like wowowowoowwwowoowowowowow

Anyway, this isn't the greatest most insightful analysis but I just had to ramble about my favourite boy!!

#acrossthespiderverse #spiderverse #spiderman #pravitr prabhakar #found a new character to be fixated on #pavitr i love you sm

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kakashisenppai · 1 year

Note

hi! welcome back! may i request some dad!kakashi hcs?

omg just thinking about dad!kakashi makes my heart melt, i originally thought about him having a daughter but i think you can read it as it was a boy just aswell, and i imagine them being like 3-4yo. anyway, hope you like it! let me know what you think!!!

dad!kakashi who everyday wakes up early to make them breakfast, most times just simple animals shape pancakes that he knows it will make them smile.

dad!kakashi who cant never say no to them, of course he didn't want them to be spoiled but he couldn't deny anything they asked. playing with dolls? yes. dressing up as characters? sure. tea party? of course. playing in the mud? absolutely. drawing on the wall? make sure to hide it from you.

dad!kakashi who didn't think he was going to be a good father when you told him you we're pregnant, but couldn't imagine his life without your children now.

dad!kakashi who always took you two on walks by the creek, one hand holding yours and the other one on his pocket, watching carefully your children walk in front of you two, always getting distracted by their surroundings. most times his ninken were there too, and while you and him sat on the grass and enjoyed each other presence, they would play with your kid and you two would just watch it in pure bliss.

dad!kakashi who always carries them when they're asleep, holding them carefully and slowly walking back home, not wanting to wake them up after consuming so much energy after playing all day.

dad!kakashi who reads for them every night before they go to sleep, always making sure to change his voice in certain characters lines.

dad!kakashi who every night tells them 'i love you' before giving them a forehead kiss and making sure their puppy plush were there for them to hold at night.

dad!kakashi who sometimes does not wakes up early, but gets woken up in his favourite way instead, with your kid happy voice jumping on the bed and a caressing kiss on the cheek from you.

dad!kakashi who don't rush his kid way to the academy, if they want to be a ninja just like their parents its okay for him, he would teach they everything they wanted to know, but at the same time making sure they're happy and enjoying their childhood just like any other kid, no pressure at all.

dad!kakashi who loves just sitting on the couch, you three together plus the dogs, under the blanket and watching a movie peacefully on rainy days.

dad!kakashi who on the same day when the lights goes out because of the rain, tells histories to your kid, most of them about him and you, and how after so many years loving you he finally made you reciprocate his feelings, which you always corrected him saying you always did but he was too 'silly' to notice.

dad!kakashi who on the nights they would wake him up, afraid about the monster under the bed or hiding on their closet, he were always there to calm them down and to make sure there weren't any monsters, even threatening the said monsters if they dared to scare his kid again.

dad!kakashi who most of his days he liked to spend his time holding you tight, watching the little piece of love you two created together, not believing how he got so lucky.

_________

"but dad what if they come back?" he had been asked, watching the concerned look on his kid face.

"if they come back me and mom will be here to protect you pup, and they would have to deal with a very angry me for scaring you again, they would be in trouble for sure" he said stroking their hair.

"what are you going to do with them? are they going to be grounded?"

"worst, pup", he looked in their eyes with mischievous smile on his face "i'm gonna make them eat all the broccoli we have on the fridge".

"oh my god" they said afraid for the monsters.

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wayfayrr · 10 months

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I feel because of the chain having a lot of fights as strangers and since reader would be seeing wind sulking after when they have to leave since the other links are getting physical and because of that I would believe there be a lot of days where the links and reader would just have a movie night just some time to not think of the world for reader while feeding the chain's curiosity of this world. So I give you this, reader showing wind the pirates of the Caribbean trilogy.

So I hope you don't mind, I've written this as a sort of continuation of one of your recent asks where reader took Wind to the beach as a reward, but since the rest of the chain decided to argue and ruin it - he gets a private movie night instead!

“I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with your dad arguing with every single living being Wind, I mean I know he’s getting better but you shouldn’t have to deal with it all the time.”

“Is that why you set all of this up [name], because he keeps arguing all the time? Are Wild and Calm gonna join us as well then?”

“Wild said they wanted to try and get closer to Sage actually. They’re doing their own thing, right now I’m focused on cheering you up kiddo. Don’t think I didn’t see you sulking when your day was ruined.”

He’s got his typical pout back, so clearly what I said was right even if he won’t say it aloud, Wind’s fairly easy to read like that. Asides from his very blatant dislike of the beach day being ruined by sage and time getting into a full-blown fight, he seems very pleased with the fact he gets my attention to himself like this. Burying himself in the pillow fort I made on the bed with a smile shows that clearer than day.

“So we're going to spend the night talking and eating a bunch of snacks?”

“A bit more than that, I’d like to show you some of my favourite films. I think you’ll love them even more than I do though.”

Setting this all up was far more complicated than I would’ve thought originally, and I’ll have to thank Wild for offering to distract Sage long enough so he won’t disturb us when we’re watching one of the best trilogies of all time, I’m sure I can come up with something to thank him. Right now my focus is all on Wind, and making up for his day being ruined; captain jack sparrow always helped cheer me up whenever I got upset so it should help Wind. Poor kid deserves to have some kind of reward for adjusting to his new life this well and as his parent, it falls to me to make sure he gets one that’s right for how incredible he’s being.

“So what are they about [name]! Is it one of those family traditions you said you were going to teach me, Wild and Calm!”

“No it’s not a tradition, and I wouldn’t be teaching you without your brothers either Wind.”

“You didn’t say what it’s going to be about though. Please [name]?”

Ruffling his hair with a laugh, settling next to him with the remote in my hand ready to show him something I was saving to cheer up a bad day. Making it beyond perfect for this exact moment. With the fog on the screen showing a ship emerge with the eerie singing, Wind’s attention was instantly hooked when he heard the faint lyrics of a pirate's life for me. Good, This is what he deserves after everything else. He’s more focused on this than anyone would have thought possible. Now I just hope he doesn’t have a Jack sparrow like I did the first time I ever saw this film, with his natural energy I don’t think any of us could survive that. After the escape and the botched execution of Jack with will turner saving his life I heard the first thing out of Wind since the film started.

“THAT WAS AWESOME!!! AND YOU SAID THERE’S MORE!!!”

“There’s still another two films to go kiddo, you sure you’re up for that?” “DO YOU EVEN HAVE TO ASK!! OF COURSE, I AM!!”

“So you wanna start the next one straight away?”

“COME ONNNN! I REALLY WANNA WATCH IT!”

“Alright kiddo, just don’t exhaust yourself you can ask me to pause it if you want to eat something.”

After watching the next two films, I can safely say I��m exhausted even though Wind still seems ready to watch more. Wait no, scratch that he looks like he could pass out at any moment, he’s barely keeping himself awake.

“‘M ready to go to bed now I think [name], do you mind if I-”

And there he goes, he didn’t even manage to finish his sentence before falling asleep. I’m just glad I managed to cheer him up after the failure of today. I’ll be careful not to wake him now. After all, I know better than to wake a man when he's sleepin'. It's bad luck.

#links✦react #linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #link x reader #househusband sage #moss✦answers #moss✦writes

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sebsxphia · 2 years

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Hello, I have an idea for an Reader and Hangman or rooster where the reader had a fling with them and got pregnant very young, so she moves away to get away from everything until her child is a teenager and finally gets to meet their dad under some weird circumstances where the reader and rooster or hangman runs into them at the hard deck or somewhere and they try to reconnect with reader

one coffee.

jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader.

￫ a/n: thank you so much for this idea my dear! i feel like this fits hangman more (stupid pretty fuck boy). this is part of my 2k celly! find the other gifts here and main masterlist can be found here! 💌

￫ c/w: swearing and fluff.

Not every mom had a friend who was also in the Navy, but it just so happened your friend who you met when your kids were in nursery together, was now stationed at Top Gun and training new recruits. You were in town visiting her and her new home. Both of your kids were the same age and they couldn’t wait to see each other again after being best friends in school for so long.

She told you to meet you at a bar called ‘The Hard Deck’. She was friends with the owner and it meant you could get free drinks and free food for your two teenager daughters.

You knew Jake was a pilot himself when he got you pregnant, but you never thought in your wildest dreams he would be at fucking Top Gun. Although, he did always say “I promise I’ll make this work. I’ll work hard for you and the baby.” At the time you just couldn’t believe him after he missed pregnancy scans and stopped returning your calls altogether.

Your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your throat and onto the floor when you saw him across the bar. It was like a scene from a movie the way your eyes connected and you saw your entire time together flash before your very eyes. He still looked exactly the same and he thought the same about you. In fact, that was the first comment he made when he came over.

“You look as gorgeous as the day I first saw you.” You rolled your eyes and scowled at the six foot blonde in front of you.

“Jake.” You puffed out your chest. “Do you still use those lines on every other pretty woman in here?”

He grinned his infamous cocky smile that made you fall so hard for him originally and you felt your heart strings tug slightly. Curse his stupidly pretty face.

“Only you, Doll.”

That name. Oh that name. He still remembers how weak that nickname made you the first time he said it to you in the car parking lot on your first date. Slowly you saw the cogs turning in his brain. If you were here, then that must mean—

“Mom!” The, not so small anymore, teenage girl came up to your side. “Please can we get a drink?” She leaned up against the bar and looked up at you.

Jake could see his own eyes staring up at you pleadingly.

“Sure, sweetie. I’ll get your favourite. Let me just finish up here.” Jake caught her eye just before she went back to her table and you saw his eyes turn glassy.

“She looks…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. It felt like his throat was restricting tighter and tighter.

“Exactly like you. Yeah I know. It was nice to see you Jake.” You turned on your heel to carry both of your drinks in your hands with your purse tucked under your arm.

“Wait.” You heard Jake call out and grab onto the back of your arm making you spill the liquid over the brim of the glass. You glared back at him and flared your nostrils.

“Jake if you think for one sec—” You started to throw everything in your arsenal at him, but Jake cut you off with a soft kiss placed gently on your lips. The kind that made your spine tingle and you were a fool to think it wouldn’t make you falter.

“Please. Fuck, I don’t even know why you’re here, but if you’re staying please just let me have one coffee with you. One coffee with her.” He glanced over your shoulder to the table she was idly sat on, none the wiser that her father was mere meters away from her. You gritted your teeth and inhaled all the air you could muster as to not blow your lid right now at him.

“One coffee. That’s it.” He let go of your arm and the corner of his lips turned up into a slight smile.

“Thank you.” He gave you his number with shaky hands to agree a time and a place.

“Still a pilot then?” You just wanted to sanity check that this wasn’t a totally stupid idea.

“Yeah. Top Gun. Always told you I’d make it.” He threw a slick wink your way and you narrowed your eyes back at him, trying to hide the stupid amount of blush that was creeping up your cheeks.

“See you soon, Jakey.” When you called him the nickname you gave him all those years ago, he felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck and a warmth spread through his chest.

taglist:

@tallrock35

@luckyladycreator2

#💌you’ve got mail #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #jake seresin #emmajane244

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creaman · 28 days

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Idk if I'm allowed to encourage this but everything you said about Kung fu Panda 4 is correct, it not only killed my grandma but massacred my bloodline. The only saving grace of that movie was the cute Dad stuff, and that the theater I watched it in had comfy reclining sofa chairs as seats.

Although you can make the point that Li and Ping 'distract from the film', being the B plot, they are genuinely the only good part of the movie. Again, you could argue that their absense would mean more time to develop the A plot, but their precense is the only funny and charming part of the film and the A plot had plenty of time.

The movie has the same runtime as its predecessors, but chose to spend near all of its time padding out the A plot with spoken exposition and filler chase sequences when it could have been fleshing out The Chameleon as a villain and developing Zhen and Po's dynamic.

Now taking this opportunity to talk about some of the secondary points I didn't get to cover in the primary post (hating is my passion)

Original Post

KFP4 spoilers again

Juniper City Sequence

A lot of the comedy is generic subversion — A statement followed by a verbal or visual contradiction which is standard, worn out and the laziest most predictable form of comedy.

There was also a scene that actually made me pause the movie and cackle; not from the humour, but from the sheer absurdity; — in which Po refers to himself as “—The Kung Fu Panda!”

Has never previously referred to himself as this

Has never been referred to as that by others

This is a genius scene which takes inspiration from the most memorable sequence in Kung Fu Panda 2, in which Lord Shen utters the chilling line, "You see, I need my Kung Fu Panda Too." (So powerful. Brought tears to my eyes.)

Smarmy. Arrogant. Unearned. Even if this was the Kung Fu Panda I knew and loved, what a pompous way to put it.

The Staff of Wisdom

It's pretty great. I tuned out all the lore, mostly because the first scene with this object is Po exclaiming "The staff of wisdom!" followed by nothing but exposition.

It's the implication that he's nothing without it, and that it embodies the Dragon Warrior. He's reduced to a staff which essentially has no function until the end. It sticks out in every scene because this meathead carries it everywhere, like its his house keys.

This one is a nitpick, but I think it looks stupid. It was fine in the third film because it functions as a little trophy for him, having defeated General Kai and finding peace with his identity — but it's too small for him, reads like a fucking lollipop and he looks ridiculous holding it because he doesn't use it in most of his scenes so it's just dead weight for the entire runtime.

The Final Act

This part is a little less structured — I had stopped taking proper notes and started typing 'WHY??' and 'FUCK YOU'.

The Kung Fu Masters. My favourite part of the film, as a Lord Shen enthusiast, was when they brought him in for two seconds and then had him sit in a cage with no spoken dialogue for the remainder of the sequence. Why are they here? Why is kung fu stored in the spirit? (pee is stored in the balls?)

Just tried to talk about the bowing scene again but I just know I'm going to give myself an aneurysm. Postponed.

The defeat of The Chameleon. Among the most memorable villain defeats, we bring you: head trauma.

The Amalgamation. Oh man. Sorcery was already a stretch in the worldbuilding of Kung Fu Panda. Now you're telling me The Chameleon can shift into a huge amalgamation of all the kung fu masters? This has nothing to do with kung fu anymore — artificially inflated as a threat by being... bigger.

Spoilers, She doesn't even do anything with this. Kind of just runs around snapping at their heels.

The Chameleon really doesn't utilise her abilities at all. She turns into Lord Shen to... to kick Po. Not to manipulate him psychologically or anything, but to... kick him. Alright.

They opted to make the fight sequence cool (by having the Chameleon shift between forms for no real purpose) but the fight scene is a nothing burger, in which no real damage is done to either party until Po busts out the pwn stick.

Closing Statements

I don't hate Kung Fu Panda 4 (blatant lie). I wanted the film to succeed, genuinely. But the state of it now...

Mess. Bury it.

#creaman-answer-sheet.pdf #creaman talks to drywall #kung fu panda 4 #kfp #hating on main #spoilers #vent again #discussion #criticism #you drive me to drink kung fu panda 4

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pikapeppa · 16 days

Text

15 questions for 15 friends

Tagged by @elveny and @johaerys-writes -- thank you, my loves!

ARE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? My mom. Apparently my dad really wanted to name me after my mom and she was like "ugh really fine" LOL. My dad is also named after his dad, who was named after his dad... REAL ORIGINAL. This is going to sound like a total humblebrag, but my mom and I are both published academic authors, so we have to use our middle initials to distinguish who published what 🙃

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? Probably in therapy last Thursday LOL. Though I got a little prickly-eyed earlier this week watching the episode of ATLA where Zuko and Aang go on their lifechanging field trip to the Sun Warriors' secret village 😂❤

DO YOU HAVE KIDS? Nope! Childless by choice.

WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED? I played T-ball when I was 5 or 6 (hated it, cried so much that my parents pulled me out LMAO) and I was on the volleyball team in Grade 6. I'm left-handed and I had a habit of serving into the wall, unfortunately, and the habit got worse when I was nervous. During one game, they took pity on me so much that they paused the game until I got the ball over the net. I was fucking humiliated and have never played a team sport since then. 🤣💀 Re: other physical activities, I like dancing! I've taken a ton of different kinds of dance classes including swing, salsa, bellydancing, and Bollywood dancing, and loved all of them!

DO YOU USE SARCASM? No. Me? Never. 🙃🤣 Forreal though yes. All the time.

WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? Uh...! I don't know if there's any one specific thing? I usually take in an "overall impression" of appearance. Vague, but that's all I've got. If the question was "what's the first thing you notice in people you're attracted to", that might be a different story 🤣

WHAT'S YOUR EYE COLOUR? Brown.

SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? I am going to copy Johaerys's answer and say it doesn't matter to me, as long as the story was good. But also, who says scary movies/horror media can't have happy endings?? 🤣Haunting of Hill House, anyone? (Bittersweet, maybe, but it counts as happy to me!)

ANY TALENTS? Would it be wretched if I said I feel like writing might be a talent? Whatever, I'm saying it. 🤣😅

WHERE WERE YOU BORN? In a hospital in the same city where I currently live! Which I will chose not to reveal openly! 🤣

WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES? Writing! It takes up a solid 75-90% of my free time. Also gaming (which I might count into the writing time since it often becomes Research™ for the writing 🤣). I also enjoy baking and cooking, though I don't know that I'd count those as hobbies since they're necessary ADLs?

DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS? A cat named Meeko. She is my daemon. We can never be apart when I am home. Case in point, a photo taken in real-time while completing this quiz:

HOW TALL ARE YOU? 5'3".

FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL? Uhhh... what level of school are we talking here? In undergrad, I took an incredible linguistics/history course about writing systems, and that was probably my favourite class ever. I took a course during undergrad about different schools of psychotherapy that was pretty damned influential too.

DREAM JOB? I also loved Johaerys's answer here: "I don't think there's any sort of job anyone could do in this capitalist hellscape we're all currently living in that would be enjoyable enough to make up for, well... living in a capitalist hellscape." I'm lucky enough to work in the public healthcare system so I'm pretty safe from the worst of capitalism, I guess, though my job (speech-language pathologist) is one I chose more for practicality (certainty of employment) than because I was really passionate about it. If I could do something else and not have to worry about money, I would either want to be a fiction editor, or a sex therapist.

Tagging forward to @ranaspkillnarieth @iamcayc @heroofshield @fantasy-girl974 @hellas-himself @midnightacrobat @alyssalenko @vorchagirl @elinorbard @stuffforthestash @mwasaw @lordofthenerds97 @y0ureviltwin @ladyofthelake91 @perhapsrampancy @cha-mij and genuinely, anyone else who wants to share!!! Tag me so I can spy on your life! 🤣❤

#tag meme #about me #tumblr game

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eviltheleon · 6 months

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❤ BATFAM - What Halloween Costume Would They Wear?

. . . . . ╰──╮not a request just something i wanna do ╭──╯ . . . . .

𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱: what halloween costume would the batfam members wear? includes bruce, dick, jason, tim, damian, alfred and barb(+a bonus of wally and commissioner gordon) 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: none. please keep in mind that these are my headcannons, the characters are most likely very ooc.

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>: ̗̀➛ bruce bruce would be more casual during the halloween season, hes not a hardcore halloween fan now hes older but he doesnt hate it either. if it werent for his thousands of kids he probably would forget about it all together. as for a costume bruce would not want to wear one, despite having loads of costumes from his playboy days.

it didnt matter what bruce wanted though. his kids and alfred had all collectively decided to force him into one. when he eventually agrees to wear a costume its something simple and easy to get, a vampire or werewolf or something. (he trips over his vampire cape at least 3 times)

>: ̗̀➛ dick LOVES DRESSING UP. he goes all out every single year. he has planned, detailed costumes ready by june. he once repurposed his disco nightwing suit into an elvis presley costume. would have forced all of the batboys to dress up as the spice girls atleast once.

>: ̗̀➛ jason when he was a kid he loved the idea of halloween and dressing up. now that hes been resurrected and is older not so much. even though hes not as passionate about halloween as some of the others, he still dresses up every year because one time tim had said he was acting like bruce for not wanting to dress up. since that day he vowed to always dress up so he wasnt anything like bruce. death would be a kinder punishment then being like bruce in jasons eyes.

as for his costume he would do something he deemed cool. his favourite costumes are walter white, jesse pinkman, quentin tarantino or any of the characters from his current favourite book. an ex-girlfriend once convinced him to dress up as frankenstein and his wife. he was the wife. the whole batfam saw. he never lived it down.

>: ̗̀➛ tim tim likes halloween. he has a map of every house that gives our coffee flavoured sweets. takes damian with him as a 'bonding opportunity'. (he just wants all of the demons good sweets). his costume looks like it took him two seconds to find when in reality it took him at least a month.

his costume is something dumb that regular people dont really understand, but thats okay because he understands. has gone and will go to the halloween gala as a pot of coffee. he just has the costume in his wardrobe for emergencies.

>: ̗̀➛ damian acts like he doesnt care for the holiday but 100% does. at first he didnt understand it since he has never got to experience it while under the league care, why would people willingly give out food? and why would people eat it? what if it was poisoned?

while he doesnt pay much attention to his own costume, he does pay attention to his animals. alfred the cat goes as a cow and bat-cow goes as a cat. no there isnt any relation to the costumes... why would you think that? it gets harder when damian tried to get a costume for goliath, hes very large.

he would never admit this out loud to anyone but he desperately wants to dress as batman. he has a lot of pride and admiration for his father and his heritage, bruce knows that, but he would never be able to in case he was somehow recognised. in the end he goes as ninja. he felt it was fitting.

>: ̗̀➛alfred he would go as lurch from the original adams family movie. he relates to the character and thinks hes a brilliant butler. the kids that are out trick-or-treating love his costume when he opens the door.

>: ̗̀➛ barb + commissioner gordon barbara loves to dress up in matching costumes with her dad and hes happy to oblige. each year they have a new costume planned, its always something cheesy like peanut butter and jelly or bread and butter. barbara takes great joy in going to the waynes halloween gala in the most cheesy costume ever in attempt to embarrass her dad. it never works, hes just happy to see his daughter having fun. (dick has forced her to wear a couples costume multiple times)

>: ̗̀➛ wally halloween is wallys favourite time. so many free sweets and chocolates for him to eat. doesnt matter what it is, how big or small, its all getting eaten. he doesnt care too much about his costume, as long as hes getting free food. dick usually helps him out with his costume, he goes as someone speedy like him. quicksilver, sonic, pietro etc.

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hotmonkeelove · 10 months

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I'm not only heartbroken by the loss of an actor I've long admired, but mortified that this is the first I'd heard about Julian Sands having gone missing on the mountain I grew up by. Seriously, Mount Baldy is the main feature of the skyline in my hometown. My dad would take us to play in the snow there sometimes when I was young, about an hour's drive up the mountain roads. I'll be visiting my folks who still live in the area next week. This is so surreal to me.

Time to watch some of his films again. Gothic will always be a favourite movie of mine, but now it's especially sad that both he and Natasha Richardson died tragically. He will also always remain my favourite on-screen version of Percy Bysshe Shelley and my original choice for Lucius Malfoy. (I do think Jason Isaacs was great, but Sands was who I imagined when I read the books.)

#julian sands #rip #why am i only hearing about this now?#he was beyond awesome!#so sad #warlock #gothic #gothic (1986)#percy bysshe shelley #natasha richardson #mary shelley #ken russell #a room with a view #helena bonham carter #boxing helena #mt. baldy #my hometown

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ne0nwithazero · 6 months

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what do you think some of lavas favorite movies are? also i have a very clear image of that reddit post that’s like “my dog has virtually no interest in the works of the impressionists and it worries me” but instead it’s klieg like “why does my five month old not have any interest while watching citizen kane?”

This ask delighted me so much I had to draw it HEAHEHAE Clearly the child is cultured, the environment just isn't stimulating enough

Anyway, Klieg would probably do this

But yeah, to answer the original question, I Lava too would develop funky movie tastes x)

I feel like her favourite stuff would be goofy campy movies, just fun stuff that doesn't take itself too seriously, she's not as passionate about it as her dad is, but she does have an appreciation for the arts :) Also if her design doesn't make it evident, she's very much into 80s aesthetics so I feel she'd be drawn to stuff like that!

#Jay Asks #Anonymous #Lava #Klieg #My Art

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sugarschnaps · 8 months

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Leland HCs, because he died in Chapter Four

My heart has been broken by fanfiction countless times with Leland dying omg. (You know who you are) Anyways so I decided to write some Leland Golden boy McKinney HCs!!! They're mostly for my comfort and my inexplicable thoughts. Went from Leland hater to Leland brainrot real fast. Thank you, fanfiction authors! You're a gift to the planet <3 Not used to writing for characters that aren't my ocs, and these are purely my own comfort hcs, so hopefully you guys don't mind my little contribution to the fandom. I might post other hcs if people want? idk Side note: These are also kind of somewhere between "soft boyfriend" and "part time group dad" energy, interpret these how you want. :D

He's not big on slushies originally. Probably not a big fan of cold things generally with a few exceptions of course, but he can't resist seeing you so excited to try the new flavour and wanting to drag him along. (At the time, probably blue raspberry. It came out in '74!) And of course, he'll go with you. You manage to persuade him to try it. He winds up enjoying them quite a lot. Blue raspberry is his favourite from then on, though you can never quite tell if it's the flavour that he likes or the fact that you introduced it to him.

He doesn't like hot custard. Can't explain that one, it's just a thought, honestly. But he'd rather die than eat hot custard, he just doesn't like it lmao

He absolutely has a thing for you wearing his shirts or if he has a jacket on, his jacket at the time. Especially when it's colder out, and he knows he can help you warm up. He protects his friends from literal cannibals in game, so why not from the elements too? And to build on this, I also HC he doesn't really like leather jackets because of his arms. They're always tight for his shoulders. But he still wears them sometimes for style points, you know what I'm saying? (When I say "a thing" here it means his heart is swelling and he can't stop smiling. Proud dad, maybe happy boyfriend, I dunno I'm just here for happy and alive boy Leland)

He gives the best hugs out of the whole group, for sure. He's always warm to the touch, even in winter, it's like he's literally got a built in heater or something. Plus, look at him. He is literally built for hugs. Wrestle hugs? Are those a thing? They are now I said so He'd definitely have anyone he cuddles with feel safe when he holds them. (He also prefers to be hugged around the waist than higher up his body.)

If you ever go out to watch a movie with him, you're absolutely leaving there laughing. Leland is a master of comedic timing and stupid comments. He'll find a way to spin any movie to be a comedy. Horror, Romance, anything. He'll make a terrible joke, and it'll be funny. Maybe less because of the actual comedic value, more in how he delivers his jokes, or how he ends up laughing halfway through them and ends up laughing also. His laugh is infectious.

Leland gives me dad joke energy. I will not elaborate.

He is literally just such a ray of sunshine. He's a bit dim-witted at times (it's ok bb me too <3) but he makes up for it in how pure he generally is. He's a good shoulder to cry on, especially while hugging him (literally speaking as well as emotional things- sorry, I'll shut up about his arms now). He might not be 100% certain how to comfort you most of the time, but he's trying his best.

One thing I can conform for an absolute certain is that he has the most banging record collection anybody has ever known. Man has brilliant taste in music. Queen, ABBA, that whole vibe is his favourite to listen to. He has a collection of vinyls he tells nobody about. You're probably the first to know, likely from him knowing the words to things like Killer Queen especially.

His favourite song, however, is definitely Hooked on a Feeling. It's just... I can't explain it. He'd dad dance to this, for sure. He's just a little silly goofy boy <3333

If you're the type of person that sees fluffy and/or soft hair and immediately wants to braid a bit of it, he will gladly let you do so. He'll probably have to lean down for it to be more comfortable for you. He doesn't care if you're a bit messy or not used to braiding hair properly, he'll happily keep it in for a day at least. He has the SOFTEST hair anybody has ever known, he's just a very fluffy boy and I love him.

In the winter, if you forget to bring gloves or whatnot, he'll hold your hands to warm them up. Referring back to the little portable heater energy thingy we've got going for him. Also, doesn't matter who you are his hands are always bigger than yours even if it's very slightly.

He gives me golden retriever energy he's so baby That's it that's the post, love y'all, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk <3

#tcm game #leland mckinney #leland tcm #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm #headcanon #wholesome #we love not being able to tag #I'm new here #hhhhhhhhhh #anyways so he's very baby and I have big brainrot over him #blaming my fave author <3

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