#but because it's my dad. and he has spent most of my life alternating between ignoring me or screaming at me.

[c0la-queen]

Tord Headcanons | The Stoic One

---

Let's start with his physical appearance!

My Tord has pale skin, since he is from Norway and doesn't get a lot of sun.

His hair is naturally that dark brown color that we see in Classic, but he dyes it the caramel brown color from Legacy- though, sometimes he can be seen with dark brown roots when he needs to touch up the dye.

My Tord has silver eyes, and I often describe them as piercing or being able to see through people. I think his eyes are one of the most unnerving parts of Tord, and makes people uncomfortable.

No facial hair- he shaves it if it starts to get stubbly.

Tord is the second tallest in my timeline, standing at 6'4 (I like my boys inhumanely tall). Edd is the only one taller than him and it pisses Tord off to no end.

I like to think Tord has the most athletic build of the group, being the military oriented one. He's not skinny and he doesn't have painfully unnatural muscles like you'd see in magazines. Think more along the lines of Chris Evans or Sebastian Stan. (Also has the juiciest man tiddies) Tord would alternate between going to the gym in the morning and going on morning runs through the neighborhood. He runs more often during the winter, since he's always thrived in cold weather. If Reader also liked working out or was interested in starting, he'd gladly let them join him. I think he'd even teach them self defense if they asked.

Because I think Tord would have some connection to his cultural roots, my Tord has a small tattoo of Yggdrasil on his collarbone, and an even smaller protection rune on one of his wrists. He has a piercing hole in one of his ears that he sometimes wears a simple black stud in; he got it pierced during his emo phase in high school.

Family life:

Tord is an older brother is one younger sister. He practically raised her until he moved out.

His dad was Red Leader before him and put him through intense training. Turned him into a child soldier. Resents his dad for it all.

Only time he ever argued with his dad is when he tried to give his sister the same training- Tord refused to let him.

Worst thing his dad ever did was make Tord do wilderness survival for 3 nights in a Norwegian forest. He was 12.

A Eurasian Lynx managed to find him, but he got away with only claw marks on his back. He's still got the scars.

He doesn't hate his mother, but he's not particularly close with her. Because his training started from such a young age, he spent most of his childhood around his father and other high ranking soldiers.

Cares a lot about his little sister and travels home to see her once or twice a year.

Now, personality:

My Tord is very apathetic sometimes, but mainly is just kind of calm and chill.

He likes to say that he'd rather be with his machines and inventions than other humans, but that's a bullshit lie and he's just being dramatic

Prefers being quiet, doesn't say a lot unless its under specific circumstances or he has commentary to give. He enjoys listening to Reader ramble endlessly, or just have her in his arms while he silently does some task.

He switched from cigarettes to vapes after a while, since its better than smoking and has more flavors available.

Likes energy drinks more than coffee, enjoys the variety they offer.

Actually pretty good at cooking, he'd cook for himself and his sister when his parents were busy with work.

Way smarter than he looks. If he had to take the ACT, he'd probably get a nearly perfect score.

A STEM girlie. He uses the garage as his workshop and spends most of the day there (not counting weekends).

Absolutely has a motorcycle in the garage. He rides it if he's having a low day and needs to get away. Has a special route that takes him the long way through the city before ending up at the cliff overlooking the neighborhood (the one we see in The End). Takes Reader on that route to cheer her up or clear her head. One time they fell asleep on the cliff and woke up to several calls from Edd, Tom, and Matt, who were all scared shitless.

Never gets cold. If someone comments on it, he says its "nothing compared to Norwegian cold." (The others are all tired of hearing that and roll their eyes)

Despite this, he's not dumb. He knows how to stay warm and how important it is. Will scold Reader for not wearing enough layers.

His music taste is so mixed up and wild that nobody can give it a name.

Probably reads the most out of the four, will never tell you what he's reading.

Gets angry about historical inaccuracies.

Not allowed to play Trivial Pursuit because he knows a bunch of random facts.

"Kill yourself." "This is why we can't have nice things."

Likes Super Smash Brothers and can create ass kicking combos for any character in a couple of rounds.

He works as a mechanical/chemical engineer. Works independently by taking commissions for blueprints and fixing machines for people. He mostly works at home in the garage but very rarely has to go to another location. He prefers to have the client talk to him over the phone or meet him.

Likes Liquid Death Mountain Water.

Smokes cigars occasionally, usually on special events.

Smells like smoky wood and vanilla.

Does some art every so often, but not as often as Edd.

Vibes/Aesthetic:

Red LED lights as the only light source

Night so late the entire house is silent

Sneaking out of the house to get candy and drinks at the gas station

Sleep Token playing on the drive

Anime on his laptop

Making battery acid drinks together

Fucking instead of sleeping

Athletic shorts and hoodies

Thigh high socks

Late night drives

Vape clouds and suckers

Trying to stay quiet

Playlist (Based off my Own Spotify Playlist for Him):

Sleep Token

CORPSE

Hollywood Undead

Twenty One Pilots

Kanye West

Childish Gambino

Eminem

Glass Animals

Rob Zombie

#eddsworld #eddsworld x reader #eddsworld tord #eddsworld tord x reader

[agentravensong]

two scenes i would add to nerdy prudes must die

the thing about being autistic is that i will have no motivation to sit down and write stuff for my grad school applications all day, but then at night i'll find it in me to spend 3+ hours writing a tumblr post about my latest hyperfixation ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

this time that hyperfixation is nerdy prudes must die, a show that, despite still not being my favorite starkid hatchetfield musical, has really dug its claws into me. i'm gonna detail two scenes that i think would add to certain character arcs, give ritchie (and ruth)'s death(s) more impact, and really drive home the show's themes. don't think i need much more preamble than that, so, here we go!

1. Second Lauter family scene

A scene set between Ritchie's death and Ruth's, fitting best in the plot as is right after "Hatchet Town".

Primary purpose: Show more of Steph's character and her relationship with her father; show that the attitudes that made the teens' high school experience hell (pre-ghost!max) are reinforced by the adults

Basic outline: Steph and her dad are having a convo, prompted by the mayor, about how school is going; a kind of convo that, with how awkward it is, clearly doesn't happen often. Lauter says something half-hearted about how it's a shame her high school experience is being ruined by these events, because it was the happiest time of his life (as a contrast to the opinions our protags express in the opening number).

Steph doesn't want to talk about the murder stuff (duh) so she redirects to how her grades have genuinely improved (or at least did for a minute there) thanks to her studying with Pete, in a way that makes it clear she's genuinely proud of her improvement.

Mayor Lauter, in response, tells her that he doesn't want her hanging out with the nerds anymore, in or out of school, because it makes her a target (and also a suspect).

Steph gets upset at this dismissal; what kind of dad, she scoffs, would tell their daughter who was finally succeeding academically to stop trying? Especially when he was the one who told her to get her grades up?

And Mayor Lauter says something to the effect of, "You don't need to be a star student. I know you, Stephanie; that's never going to be you. All you need to be is good enough. Can you just do that for me?"

We have the mayor leave at this point; let's say he gets a phone call, cause that makes sense, and also is a deeply ironic reason for him to leave a family conversation considering his criticism of Steph's phone use. Steph could even point that out as a joke.

Here is where, if we have time, we give Steph a solo number. Well, it could be a solo, or it could be a duet with her dad — the kind where they're not singing to each other or aware that the other is singing, but they're basically singing their different perspectives on the same thing (in this case, their relationship). I propose the duet version because Corey deserves to get to show off his vocals more prominently in these shows.

Alternate ending if we're not doing the song: Steph can storm out, and the mayor can have an ominous line foreshadowing the drastic measures he'll be taking when we see him again.

The idea with this scene is that I want to give more weight to the whole "she's smarter than she thinks she is" angle to Steph's character. Show that she has found something through her bond with the nerds (Pete mainly) that makes her want to be more than just the "cool girl". And show that there is a part of her that wants a better relationship with her father (because if he won't believe in her, be proud of her, then who will?).

But also, we see how her dad has pigeonholed her into being that kind of airhead. All he cares about is that she stays out of trouble (which is to say, anything that would cause trouble for him). He doesn't care what she's genuinely interested in, what she aspires to; he's spent most of her teenage-hood assuming she's not interested in anything worthwhile, that she doesn't aspire to anything. He doesn't see her as a full person.

And, perhaps most importantly, him telling her not to associate with the nerds draws a direct line between him and our main antagonist, Max. Which matters for reasons that will become clearer as I discuss the second additional scene I came up with.

For the record, if I only got to add one of these scenes (NPMD is the longest of the Hatchetfield shows already, and both these scenes would have to be Act 2 additions), I'd pick this next one. So let's get to it.

2. High School Regression scene

Primary purpose: Showing how the murder(s) has/have affected the student body, and making the point that the hierarchies Max represented can't be disposed of that easily when he's still, literally and metaphorically, haunting the place.

This one would happen in between when the protags find out about Ritchie's death and when Grace informs Pete and Steph of Ruth's death. Practically, this means it would have to be set either:

A) right before Ruth goes to the BBQ Monologues rehearsal, with the scene centering around her, and leading directly into her arrival there (maybe replacing the cop convo entirely? maybe they're at the end of it)

or B) as basically a replacement for the Beanie's scene, but still leading into "If I Loved You" (and everything that comes after)

The beat-by-beat for this one is less solid in my head compared to the first scene, but the idea is that we see some of the cheerleaders and jocks going back to bullying Ruth in version A or Pete in version B (though in a less confident and malicious manner than Max did, as if their hearts aren't fully in it). Ruth or Pete gives some pushback and asks what changed to make them revert to this behavior.

I'm not sure how exactly the bullies express the "why", but in plain-speak, it's this: the students know about Ritchie (and Ruth)'s murder(s), and, maybe more importantly, the "nerdy prudes must die" that was written in Richie's blood. The message they've taken from that is that there is a killer reinforcing the social hierarchies they all abandoned when Max died. And so, with that latent threat hanging in the air, these students have decided to fall in line, in the hopes that they'll therefore be spared. Maybe, even, the murders will stop.

(you could also have one or two kids who are genuinely almost as cruel as max and are using this as an excuse to going back to being the assholes they were before, but you'd need more proper set-up for such a character i think)

Version A is pretty straightforward. I like the idea of Pete and/or Steph being there as well so it isn't just Ruth experiencing the misery (considering where things go from here)... but I know that they need to be dressed as different characters for when Ruth gets to the auditorium, so that probably isn't practical. Maybe there'd be time for Mariah to have made that quick change if Joey really stretched out his bit? But I know the change was tight even for Angela as is.

For version B, you could have the bullies find Steph and Pete at or on their way to Beanie's and be assholes to them there (because it makes sense to me that Steph and Pete would want to have their potentially incriminating conversation off high school grounds), but I think it has more thematic punch to set it in the high school.

Wherever it's set, in version B, Steph and Pete talk a bit about how the bullies' regression sucks, how things are even worse now than they were before Max died, which then leads into their conversation as it is in the actual show over whose fault this all is.

With Pete specifically, I think it'd be neat to call back to what he said to Steph way back in the show about his desire to blend in, to be invisible. That maybe, for a little bit, he liked being accepted, being important (to one person in particular), but it wasn't worth it. And with Steph, if we do have the second dad convo in this version of the show, we can maybe have her comment on how even her dad seems to believe in this bullshit social hierarchy, how they might never escape it.

I mentioned in my post detailing my initial nerdy prudes thoughts that I wished Pete and Steph had a convo that felt like Paul and Emma's convo right before "Join Us and Die". Basically, this is my attempt to give these teens that, without adding an entirely new scene just for that.

As a whole, this scene is my best attempt to Make Something of the themes and plot threads that are so well set up but get kind of lost in the last... third? of the show. Plenty of people have rightly posted that the adults are the real villains of this story. Max isn't scary just because he's one guy; he's representative of larger ideas, a larger system, perpetuated by those adults. Hierarchy, competition, and domination, treated as the natural, necessary state of the world. A system that reduces the personhood of all those ensnared in it.

Those ideas won't just disappear with his death. Max might have peaked in high school even if he lived because of the specific brand of boisterous asshole he was, but the world that instilled those ideas in him, the world beyond high school, will keep fostering and enforcing them, in its more mundane, subtle (comparatively) ways. It will keep producing more Maxs, and more Solomon Lauters.

Like, the whole "fuck clivesdale" bit is a running joke, and a funny one! But, also, I think there's something to be said about the fact that both the teens and adults are all in on this seemingly one-way rivalry, and how much focus is placed on it, in a show about *bullying*. A show about people who have arbitrary labels slapped on them as an excuse to be cruel to them.

"you're fucking losers, and we'll kill you!" isn't that far off as a sentiment from "nerdy prudes must die", is it?

and, like. their team name is the clivesdale chemists. chemists, like, nerds. it's supposed to be part of the joke, i'm pretty sure, that they're named after something nerdy, not a cool animal. if that parallel isn't intentional, then, i dunno man. it's still there either way.

(see also: the musical motif underneath the "who will pray for me" section of nerdy prudes must die also appearing as the chorus of "hatchet town". a motif that plays both when max asks ritchie who will remember him (who will remember *them*), right before enacting his ultimate "justice", and when the adults twist their memories into an excuse for a witch hunt, their own paranoid search for "justice".)

In real life, getting rid of the one asshole at the top of a rotten system doesn't fix the system. If the non-nerdy teens in this school were impressionable enough that one asshole could make them all act in line with his arbitrary beliefs, then his haunting presence (even if they don't know it's literally his ghost) should absolutely have *some* effect on them too.

And I think if you included a scene like this, it would make all that stuff in the script that's subtext, or half-developed, feel like it really was intentional, purposeful.

Does that all make sense? I hope so.

I know that actually trying to fit both of these into the show would require cutting some other stuff down for time, and it would complicate scene transitions and maybe fuck with the overall pacing. Really, this is more a thought experiment than anything else. I'm just glad to have it out of my head after it's been brewing there for multiple days, There's other stuff I'd change if I were to do a full edit of the script, sure, but these are the big things that really would've made the show click for me on the level tgwdlm does.

#starkid #hatchetfield #nerdy prudes must die #nerdy prudes spoilers #npmd spoilers #now to get some sleep and come back to this in a day or two

[kess-in-the-perthchimzone]

Farewell to Sick Kang Theory

How do I even explain this ridiculous post?? Inspired in no small part by all the trailer footage of Kang fainting in the early days of Dangerous Romance I posited a theory that Kang had a chronic, life threatening health condition, which would explain why his dad talks to him the way he does.

Well yesterday @poetry-protest-pornography reminded me via this post that the theory is officially officially dead 😭. So while I LOVE everything we are getting on DR right now, I want to take a moment to pour one out for the AU that will forever hold a piece of my heart:

Kang’s mom died of a heart condition that he inherited

Afterwards, Kang’s father (and grandmother probably to a slightly lesser extent than the dad) were overprotective. At home, everything he did was monitored — was he eating healthy, sleeping enough, not stressing himself out.

the constant pressure of being told ‘you are weak, you are fragile’ is what manifested into the same bully Kang we saw in early episodes because he so desperately wanted to feel powerful

i love how this could overlap so closely with canon and still work. He still escalates with Sailom and brings a gun to his house but that scene might almost impact him MORE — he plays the hero and for the first time in his life he feels STRONG; he feels useful, and he’s addicted to it so he imprints on Sailom even more immediately

Episode 3 feels too fast for Sailom to learn so let’s say they start studying together and Sailom only gets pieces of this — he’s gradually realizing how Kang gets treated at home and Kang still drunkenly reveals how his dad makes him feel but Sailom doesn’t know WHY

In this verse you could do an interesting flip where Kang begs for the bike and does pass his tests and then the dad changes his mind and not only takes it away but (temporarily) takes away the tutoring because he didn’t like how hard Kang was exerting himself with all-nighters

so then Sailom coming to live with them would in part be so the dad can monitor their study sessions and make sure they are an appropriate length time and not too taxing on Kang

of course Sailom has been seeing all this happen — he’s been spending all this time with Kang and now has heard this pattern over and over where Kang gets talked down to — and he’s both furious at it and it’s increasingly nagging at him. He’s starting to feel like he’s missing something

but he’s also falling so deeply in love that he kind of willingly forgets to ask; he just wants to spend the time he’s getting with Kang

Here I don’t think we need the Pimfah love triangle at least on Kang’s side (I still don’t believe he ever truly had feelings for her anyway) — Kang would still be the king of mixed signals because he’d alternate between love-sick staring & wildly romantic lines then running away from his feelings

Pimfah knows about Kang; her dad runs the hospital where he spent most of his childhood but she doesn’t talk about it out of respect for his privacy

but maybe she still has feelings for Sailom which would lead to the rain scene after Sailom rejects her

oooh Kang taking care of Sailom would be SO IMPORTANT to him— he’s never gotten to be on the other side, to be the caretaker, and maybe later that memory of how much love he felt in that moment would stick with him

(because obviously in this verse the big end would be Kang doing something heroic to help save Sailom from Name and then collapsing and not waking up and having to be rushed into emergency surgery — which would necessitate him being willing to let Sailom take care of him as he recovers)

The art room would still happen but it would be Kang thinking “I can’t be with him because I don’t have a future to give him” and thus self-sacrificing

of course though, he wouldn’t be able to fight his jealousy or the strength of his feelings and he would still kiss Sailom in the locker room

and all this would come to a head in the fainting scene in episode 7. Because Kang would have spent the day flirting with Sailom and trying to act all tough and strong to impress his friends

but after he faints, he would be forced to go to the hospital to have a check up to make sure everything is okay with his heart

No matter how much he protests or just tries to play it off like he’s going home to rest, Sailom would insist on coming with him

so Sailom would finally learn the truth — I can so perfectly picture his face too. It would be the same face he had when the dad unveiled the bike. Mapping every interaction he’s had with Kang and suddenly feeling even more deeply empathetic towards him

The bar scene is obviously crucial, so that could be Kang later offering to buy them drinks for helping him; but maybe he’s keeping his distance from Sailom; he (stupidly) thinks Sailom won’t want him anymore now that the truth is out

and then I don’t know how the bleachers scene happens in this new context — maybe Kang had started playing football but after he fainted it was expressly forbidden and he is being really pathetic and in his feelings about that and thinking he can’t have Sailom

Which would mean the hug scene would be equally if not more meaningful to Kang here — because it would be Sailom saying ‘I think we have a future, I believe you have a future, I want to be with you. Stop avoiding me, you asshole’

I don't know I just really love it!! And it would be so powerful seeing a chronically ill character spouting insanely romantic lines, and being jealous/possessive, and getting to play the protective hero!!

Am I glad I don’t have to worry as much about Kang possibly DYING for the romance of it all? Yes. But will I still miss it a little bit? Also yes.

#Sick Kang theory #Maybe one day I’ll write the 40K AU #dangerous romance the series #kess babbles about dangerous romance #kanghan kirttin sukprasert #dangerous romance #kess sometimes writes fic not meta

[atmilliways]

Wrong On The Money (27)

part 27 of ?? | 810 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

Steve knows his hands are shaking, and he wants to stop them but he can’t. He’s also breathing too fast and his face feels like it’s crumpling, but he can’t fix that either.

27.

Steve knows his hands are shaking, and he wants to stop them but he can’t. He’s also breathing too fast and his face feels like it’s crumpling, but he can’t fix that either.

And he knew it, he knew that Eddie hates him. Why else would the guy think it was all to . . . to show off or something? It was stupid, even after all they’d been through, to think that might’ve changed. To think that “Big Boy” was anything more than temporary insanity, like his own overcompensating with Nancy and that six little nuggets speech.

The thing is, Steve had thought. He couldn’t help it. There’s this thing that happens when he throws himself between people and death—starting with Nancy, at the Byers’ house in ‘83, when he’d seen the bandage on her hand and pushed his way inside. It had extended to Jonathan as well when a monster dropped through the ceiling. Extended to Dustin when he got in his car the following year, and more of the other little gremlins as they came into his orbit. Steve started to care, and to his surprise they cared back.

So yeah, he’d assumed Eddie might too. That’s what this alternate dimension shit does, it makes you rely on the people in it with you, and with that comes . . . honestly, some of the best friends Steve has ever had. Friends he’s goddamn lucky to have.

But Eddie still hates him, the way Barb probably would’ve still hated him if she’d survived. It’s fine, he should have known to expect this, it should be fine. 

(It’s not. Steve does want Eddie to look at him, he realizes, and not in a hateful way at all.)

He clenches his fists, digging his blunt nails into the heel of his palms, but in the end it’s the words that reel him back in. Eddie is talking again, rambling to put even Robin to shame. 

Saying thank you for bridal carrying him out of hell. (As if a fireman's carry wouldn’t have been worse for Eddie’s injuries.)

Saying thank you for deciding to give him the money, and for using his being an asshole to trick him into taking it for Wayne’s sake. (An exaggeration. That made it sound clever, when Steve acted on impulse.)

Saying sorry for asking for interest, and that it was honestly all spent on Wayne’s medication, sworn on Dustin’s mother. (Judging people for how they spend money once they have it is something Steve used to do. He’s trying to not be like his dad anymore.)

Saying sorry for being a hypocrite, because he’s gay, and adding that Steve can spread that around if he wants because it’s not like Eddie’s reputation could get much worse. (Steve had kinda figured, but it’s nice to not have to assume.)

Saying sorry for being wrong. 

At first Steve takes it all as lies to get him to stop making a scene. What other motivation could Eddie Munson possibly have? But the guy keeps going, and going, and going, and gradually it starts to sink in. 

And Eddie keeps going like a runaway train. “Everything you did this past week is some of the most metal fucking shit I’ve ever seen in my life, man. Which I wouldn’t still have if you hadn’t dragged me in here and made them treat me. With what Dustin informed me was ‘the most badass temper tantrum ever,’ by the way.”

Steve almost chokes on a breath, managing in his surprise to get out a chuckle that only sounds half strangled. “Dustin said that?” he rasps. 

“Oh yeah. Kid worships you, dude. It was kind of annoying, until . . . all this.” Eddie waves his hands around like they’re birds trying to launch themselves clear of his body. If it’s an attempt to get Steve to laugh, it doesn’t work.

But it’s a near thing. 

Instead, Steve takes a deep breath and no longer feels an iron band constricting his chest anymore. He wiggles his fingers without any phantom pinprick sensations. The tension drains out of his limbs and he feels exhausted.

“Eddie?” he asks. 

“Y-yeah?”

When he looks over, Eddie stares back with those big anxious Bambi eyes full of trepidation, as though he actually cares about what Steve’s about to say. Is it guilt? Is it trauma bonding and the solidarity of the matching bat bites on their torsos? Does it matter? Either way, it’s still care.

“Truce?” Steve offers. 

There will be time for him to explain to Eddie about the panic and the nail bat he keeps in the trunk of his car, about Barb and wanting to be better. For now, he can bask in the smile that cracks across Eddie’s lips and the immediate “Yeah” he gets in return for the olive branch.

Maybe it will be fine. Maybe they can be friends.

#steddie blackmail fic #steddie fic #steddie #stranger things fic #steve harrington #eddie munson

[kosher-martian]

My parents are moving and it's the most disastrous series of unforced errors ever.

For context, my grandparents retired in the late 80s / early 90s with a very healthy nest egg, having made their careers and retired at the peak of American Capitalism. Between Social Security, military pension, and pensions from their careers, they were made for life.

They lived in the middle of nowhere playing pretend farmer/rancher/cowboy, far away from any medical resources or modern conveniences. There was a small grocery store and hardware store nearby, but anything else was 30-40 minutes away from their stupid little farmhouse. Hospital? Doctors? 45 minutes away minimum, usually an hour or more once traffic was factored in.

As they got older, it was increasingly difficult for them to live independently because of how far removed from everything they were. Independence came with ever-increasing costs: Home healthcare visits, house cleaning services, and grounds keeping services (among others) all paid for out of their copious pensions. Eventually it became a combination of all of those things plus my mother and aunt visiting them multiple times a week (over an hour drive just to get there) to make sure all of their needs were being met.

Even I eventually got roped into helping them maintain their faux independence. I tried to convince them to move back to civilization, but it was more important to them to maintain their fake farmer/rancher/cowboy lifestyle. In the end, they had to be forced into a nursing home pretty much against their will. It was not a fun period and I'm not keen to revisit it.

My parents retired recently. They will be trying to make ends meet on Social Security plus whatever remains in their 401Ks. Their 401Ks are a disaster because they made no attempt to manage them until right before they retired, at which point it was too late to make any changes that might affect the outcome. But that didn't matter because they wanted to retire anyways.

They have a home in the city, 15-25 minutes away from their doctors and surrounded by hospitals, standalone ERs, and urgent care clinics. There are grocery stores, hardware stores, and every conceivable kind of specialty shop within a stone's throw. To my knowledge, until very recently their plan was to live in their current home until they died. They hadn't really settled on what they would do with my grandparents' home. My siblings and I encouraged them to sell it and put the money towards their retirement. My parents were not committed to the idea. Then the pandemic came. Almost overnight, it seems, they changed into radically different people.

While my dad is fairly outgoing, my mother has always been borderline agoraphobic. As far as I know she has no friends. The closest thing she has to a friend besides my dad (with whom she has nothing in common) and my aunt (who at best loathes her) is me. Did I mention my mother is a hoarder?

My mother LOVED quarantine. She was content to sit at home, watch television or read books, work from home, and then text me nonstop all day long (to the point that it was impacting my productivity at work and making me lose sleep). She still texts me nonstop.

She retired in the middle of the pandemic and now had even more free time; time she spent reading regurgitated reddit threads from those low-effort BuzzFeed knockoffs, writing fanfiction, and watching hours-upon-hours of television.

My dad did not like quarantine nearly as much, but he loved that he was incentivized to watch endless hours of television, play video games, and play on his iPad; activities he already enjoys.

I cannot overstate just how much television my parents watch. We're talking easily 14-16 hours each day, usually binge watching a single show or alternating between two different shows, and at most breaking for an hour to go buy lunch (which they eat in front of the TV) or maybe go to a doctor's appointment.

For the last 5 years, their daily TV consumption consists of Yellowstone, those HGTV home renovation shows (in particular Home Town), the storage unit auction show, and those travel channel shows that are just extended commercials for cruise lines.

All of a sudden their retirement plans changed. Now they want to move into my grandparents' old house in the countryside and play pretend farmer/rancher/cowboy AND also pretend home renovator AND go on a series of cruises they can't afford. It's like watching them toss their meager life savings into a burning dumpster.

I reminded them of how difficult it was for our grandparents to remain independent as they got older. "We're still young," they said.

I reminded them that our grandparents' independence came with high costs that they themselves will be unable to afford. "Don't worry about that now," they said.

I reminded them of how much time and energy they spent checking in on our grandparents and how me and my siblings don't have (and can't really foresee) the same standard of living that even my parents enjoyed. "You'll love visiting us in the country. We have so many plans for the house!" they said.

They've spent the better part of 18 months burning through their savings so they can live out the shows they see on TV. They've paid for a complete home makeover for my grandparents' stupid house, which included:

A costly asbestos abatement

All new appliances

Rewiring the house

Reupholstering much of the furniture in my grandparent's home plus more than a few pieces from their house in the city

Buying new furniture to replace the pieces they didn't want from either home

$20k for a top-of-the-line natural-gas powered generator (one strong enough to power a small restaurant) so they never have to worry about power outages

Art restoration for almost every painting in their current home plus a number of paintings my grandparents had

And they even renovated my grandparents' two barns!

By the way, they largely didn't clean out my grandparents' house, they just paid the contractor to dump everything in the barns after they were renovated.

They decided on March 1st that they want to move out completely by the end of March, which has forced my siblings and I to spend all of our available time helping them shovel out 30 years worth of my mother's compulsive hoarding. It never quite reached the point of the Collyer Brothers, but it did get to a point that our bedrooms were only nominally ours. We lost all functionality of the combination dining room / rec room around 2005. After 2018, neither of my siblings' bedrooms were even accessible. They want to move by April Fools Day.

I'm still cleaning out "my" room (only the upper layers of the piles of hoard were ever mine). I learned recently that my bedroom actually has a closet. I lived in that room for over 20 years thinking I never had a closet. I decided last night that I won't take anything. This will upset my mother. She envisioned "cleaning my room" as "taking everything somewhere else so she doesn't have to see me throw away anything". She has fought me on every item I have thrown away. I don't care about her feelings on the subject anymore.

She won't stop texting me about how much fun we're all going to have visiting them in the country, or how I need to hurry up and finish cleaning out "my" bedroom, or that I should be a good son and make time to help them go through everything they shoved into the barns. Maybe I should even take some of it (all of it preferably) because they won't have room for all of it once their stuff is moved in. Can't I help? Pretty please?

They've become completely unmoored from reality. My dad will just randomly force strangers at the grocery store to swipe through before and after pictures of their reupholstered furniture. My mother is talking in various fake accents (from her best approximation of "British" to Antebellum Southern drawl to 1940s Mid-Atlantic to that generic fake accent all modern country musicians use). They call me at all times of day. They don't care that I'm working or trying to sleep because I have work the next day. My needs don't matter anymore, only their wants matter.

EDIT: While I was typing this my dad sent me a before/after picture of a bookshelf they had restored.

When it became evident that I should probably wear a respirator and gloves to handle anything in the lower levels of my mother's hoard, she became upset. "It's not that bad! You're overreacting!" she said. Their home is a biohazard. They will never find a buyer for their home. the exterior is okay, but inside is wrecked beyond your wildest imagination. They are still ticked at my siblings and I because none of us could afford to buy their home nor did we express any interest in buying it at a significant discount. Whomever they convince to buy the home will need to gut it.

I'm honestly done with them. I don't think this personality shift is temporary. I just think it's who they are now. They've become selfish, shortsighted, incredibly inconsiderate, and unfathomably weird. Nothing I say has made a difference. I did everything I could to convince them they were making a mistake. I live with the existential dread that they are banking on me and my siblings helping them solve their problems when it inevitably hits the fan. Screw that! Luckily I live in a state without filial responsibility laws.

I will not be rescuing them and neither will my siblings. I will not be visiting them or sacrificing my time and energy when they could have just sold that stupid farmhouse and put the proceeds towards saving for their advanced age. For reasons I will never understand, it is more important that they get to play the characters they see on TV than it is to plan for a future when they are old and infirm. I get it, one is fun and one is not. Surely they can see that we're at the same age they were when they became parents. They had a house, two new-ish cars, & young kids. Meanwhile we live in miserable shoebox apartments, with cars that have 200,000+ miles on the odometer, and no path to home ownership in the foreseeable future.

But go on ahead. Go play Yellowstone. Go play Home Town. I hope whatever fleeting happiness they squeeze from their experience can fill the miserable void in their lives. I don't have the gas money to drive 100 miles round-trip to visit them every week vs the 40 miles round-trip I make now. They are making it harder and harder for me to see them. Once they are out of sight, they will be out of mind. They just don't realize it yet.

#childhood #moving #hoarder #hoarder parents #baby boomers

[heartsuntamed]

"Hearts Untamed" cast

or, the ones I've actually drawn so far, anyway! I'll bore you with a little info about the world. I definitely prefer a "soft magic system" so I can make things happen however is prettiest, and my world-building is similarly loose because I'm here to have fun, dammit.

I made up Estrella in december 2001 and she's been one of mommy's favorites ever since. it took me til late 2022 to begin putting together her story, and I'm so excited that everything in life worked out so I can actually do my best writing it this NaNoWriMo!

"Hearts Untamed" is about a unicorn/human mixed girl (who identifies first as a unicorn) finding herself, her spiritual power, her womanhood, and her heart's desire.

so everyone lives on a small continent named Arcelia with close-by islands. one large island is unicorn territory, whether known or not to the humans. it's inhabited by the Moon Clan of Mo'anne. like 2/3 of the clan choose to live much of their lives in humanoid forms in a human-inspired village, while the rest spend most of their immortal lives in the forest, preferring the Old Ways (living in nature, being horses, riding rainbows, typical unicorn shit).

~ ~ ~

ESTRELLA // our main character. she has a unicorn mom and human dad. she trained as a priestess and then shortly after was elected by the Goddess as the Ascended, a super-powerful unicorn priestess who serves as a bridge between the Divine and Her unicorns. (think like the pope tbh) her father never returned despite his promise so after her mother leaves to find him, Estrella leaves her home and her temple to find them both, discovering so much about herself along the way, etc etc. she draws power from the moon and stars and night.

MARISOL // Estrella's bff. they were born in the same generation and both have human dads. she is the high priestess, assisting Estrella with her role as the Ascended. her powers manifest in fire and sunlight. she's willing to take alternative and dangerous paths to reach her goals, and this leads her through the dark nights of the soul, her faith tested. she would do anything for her best friend and the Ascended.

CHARISMA // Estrella's mom. she was the high priestess for 400 years before Marisol was anointed. her magic often manifests in bubbles and butterflies. she came across a wounded human man and helped him, eventually falling deeply in love and knowing he was her One. he hasn't returned as he promised, but she knows he still loves her, and she spends years studying and praying to find him.

LUX // Estrella's human dad! he's from the Northmost Mountains region of Arcelia. he was severely wounded when Charisma found him ~30 years ago, and as she nursed him and they spent time together, they fell deeply in love. when they discovered Charisma was pregnant with Estrella, Lux left to settle his affairs with his kin before returning to share his life with his new family... but he never returned.

FLEUR // an Ancient unicorn (well over 1000 years old) who is on the Council of Elders for the Moon Clan. she oversees the priestesses-in-training and is one of the more public faces of the Council. all unicorns never cut their hair, yet hers is clearly cut short. it is full of secrets. 👀

MO'ANNE + THE RIVER // the dual goddess that the unicorns (especially the Moon Clan) worship. Mo'anne is the usual name they use for the Goddess, but the River is Her untamed, wild heart, bringing a different power. She is a moon goddess whose chosen creations are Her unicorns. sacred to Her are rabbits, silver, the moon, snowdrops and the winter solstice.

#yes i'm doing this instead of writing #for the last three hours i've had to write #nanowrimo #cast #my art #m

[murdaughter]

important vanessa emily things below the cut

extreme tw for child death and child abuse given that em is the daughter of a serial killer and just in keeping with f.na.f lore

-so in my canon, vanessa's mother dies somewhat mysteriously when she's about six years old. i personally don't feel the need to expand upon the, like, where and how of it, but vanessa definitely saw something to incriminate william

-it was definitely something at night, where she was like groggy and confused and for that reason it's very easily written off by teachers, therapists, etc.

-vanessa tries to report what she saw but given that in her canon timeline it was the 1970s (she was born in 1973, making her around 27 at the time of the movie) no one took her very seriously. even in a contemporary timeline, the lack of evidence does her no favors

-things calm down, mainly because william realizes he cut it WAY too close. he also realizes he needs to regain vanessa's trust, especially as she gets older

-we'll say that vanessa was around 10 when freddy fazbear's pizza opened up (which would be a grand opening in 1983), and the murders happened around 1985 (which i believe is like canon to the timeline?? idk man)

-because it was a new business venture (and as vanessa would later learn, a trap) william spent most of his time there, which meant vanessa did too. it became an oasis. her dad seemed happy there, and all the staff liked her and looked out for her. nothing seemed wrong, so to her nothing was wrong

-while she still harbors an underlying fear of her father, he has been working very hard to erase it, and by the time fazbear's is open (i'm not including the diner in my canon bc i simply dont have the bandwidth ahh im sorry) vanessa has largely compartmentalized her fear of her father, considering it just like general teen angst

-but when the 1985 murders happen, vanessa is very, very aware

-i'm undecided on whether she witnessed them because this blog is still in its infancy and i need to do more research on ptsd in general but also like what van's trauma would look like specifically as the child of a murderer, etc

-but either way, vanessa knows about the murders within days of them happening (if not The day of) and william knows she knows

-he then becomes an extremely unstable presence in her life, alternating between manipulation, outright threats, and gaslighting. as a result, vanessa is extremely loyal to him and to freddy's out of sheer fear

-its rare that vanessa is at the pizzeria very late, but she has been there after hours and has encountered the animatronics when they are possessed by william's victims

-vanessa quickly figures out how to communicate with them. like we see in the movie, they aren't really violent unless provoked/under william's influence, especially when it comes to kids.

-it's not the healthiest thing, but vanessa actually develops relationships with the kids, and starts to take solace in them. sometimes, she regards them as siblings.

-the bite of 87 closes the place down right when vanessa is entering high school. she has a weird reputation because of it (she definitely goes from being somewhat popular among classmates just because she like has the hook up to like kind of a pariah just because people are freaked out)

-obviously the murders are never connected to afton but there are very likely rumors and that shit does come down on vanessa in school, especially once the place shuts down

-vanessa has a few outcast friends but again, there is a lot of fear that if she gets to involved william might hurt them too

-once she graduates, she goes to state school (idk if fnaf has a canon location but! i'll pick a state eventually probably) but she is very much under william's thumb the entire time

-william brings her into the fold once she graduates college, as he has learned that it's difficult to keep the security guards alive

-vanessa just straight up is not a cop. she's trained in first aid and knows how to use a gun, but this is all by william's design. all her gear is stolen and/or forged and she has had some close calls

-aside from still being deeply afraid for her life, vanessa is almost entirely dependent on william financially, and he does basically pay her as a full time employee keeping the guards in line, etc.

-vanessa has looked for ways out very frequently but often feels too afraid to pursue them or is otherwise intimidated out of it by her father.

-the events of the film go down in my canon as they go down in the movie

-vanessa eventually Does wake up from the coma, and as william is dead (that's right!! he's dead im not letting that bastard survive lol) the case gets opened up and all that

-im gonna look into whether or not she would go to jail for life lmao. realistically she totally might. even though vanessa is a victim of lifelong abuse and threats against her life she is still an accomplice to a lot of crime so? idk man

-BUT for convenience and rp's sake, vanessa undergoes the trial, faces public ridicule and vitriol, and eventually comes out the other side as emily laughlin. the legal name change doesn't protect her from all of the fallout of the pizzeria, but it does help)

-she becomes a barista and tries to keep her head down. shes dealing with a huge amount of trauma and is just generally all over the place, as she's never been given the opportunity to live her own life before.

-she definitely has a continuing relationship with mike (whether that's romantic or platonic is open to whatever) and of course abby, though they are probably her only links to Being Vanessa. i'm still deciding if the ghost kids remain, but i'm thinking with afton dead, they're able to pass on. which on one hand is beautiful, but it's also another loss for emily.

-all in all, emily is definitely very damaged from her ordeal, but at once is very eager to connect once she feels someone is trustworthy. her relationship with mike definitely has a lot to do with that, as he has proven to her that people Can Be trustworthy

-anyway that's my story and im sticking to it! pls love my baby i care her very much ok bye

#; about

[lantur]

I've had a couple of wonderful evenings lately.

I got to play pickleball with @broomchickabroom and @northshoretragedyeagle (and Derek!) last night, and then we sat together and ate fresh-baked peach cobbler and banana bread. It was a perfect evening with great people. I went to bed feeling so much better than I had all week.

I got to see my beloved nieces tonight and I got SO much time with my favorite little niece, playing sticker book together and reading to her.

These are the bright spots I'm holding onto and that give me hope for the future. I had something else happen earlier this week and earlier today that was more difficult.

I had a good mental health day for once on Wednesday, probably because I talked to two friends that day. My mom emailed me later that night and truly threw me for a loop. For context - she has been heavily pressuring my husband and I to have a child ASAP ever since we got married in September 2020. We've been firm on the fact that we're not ready yet and are taking our time to be emotionally ready for this lifetime commitment of being parents.

The email she sent was... difficult. She resumed the pressure to have a kid ASAP, in light of my dad's diagnosis with aggressive stage four cancer. It went beyond her previous entreaties for us to have a kid ASAP.

"the greatest regret of your dad's life is that he won't be able to see a grandchild"

"just the thought that you are expecting a child will nourish his spirit and give him the hope to go on"

"you have nothing to lose and so much to gain by having a child sooner - a once in a lifetime chance to give your father a priceless gift as he approaches the end of his life."

"this might be the one and most significant gesture you make as his only child"

"sometimes in life, we set aside our plans and life routines and conveniences because life asks something special and something greater of us, and we respond and rise to the occasion."

I let my mom know that Derek and I have in fact been thinking about it since my dad's diagnosis, but we have a lot of concerns about pregnancy during such an emotionally fraught time. Namely, our main concern is the very real possibility that my dad might pass away while I am pregnant, before the baby is born, and what it will do to me to be grieving the loss of my dad WHILE undergoing the tremendous emotional, physical, and mental challenge of pregnancy. (While also having type 2 bipolar disorder and alternating between episodes of depression and hypomania.)

My mom flipped out. She said "the time is now" to have a kid, and attacked Derek and I for not caring about my dad's wants. She said that I don't care about my dad, only Derek - who would be the father of my child, the person who raises this child with me, forever. She said that a dying man's wishes don't factor into our decision at all. She said that "for ONCE, just once," in my life, that I think about my father, "because he doesn't have the luxury of time while you figure out if this choice is right to you. The big question for you is, does he matter enough to want to do this for him? The answer is obvious that he does not. He lives on borrowed time, but you are unwilling to step outside your own time frame."

My mom has had massive outbursts of temper periodically for the past 10+ years. She's said a lot, a lot, a LOT, of very hurtful things to me since my teens and throughout my twenties. Things that I've been dealing with in therapy for almost 3 years. I've dealt with it. But this was too much. I became very distraught after this entire interaction on Wednesday night. The emotional manipulation and accusation that I don't care about my dad was too much, especially as I've already been struggling tremendously this summer since my dad was diagnosed.

I spoke to friends about this situation yesterday and spent time with friends. I didn't speak to my mother, though I called my dad twice a day to talk to him, as usual. She sent me a text this morning accusing me of "putting her in the doghouse."

I had a phone call with her and told her how inappropriate, offensive, and hurtful Wednesday night was, and how it is just a long (decade+ long) pattern of behavior - of "normal behavior" and getting along for a few weeks or a couple of months, only to culminate in an explosive display of temper. I told her the truth about how her temper has affected me and told her that I cannot continue to deal with this. I told her the same thing 6.5 years ago, after I moved out - that the outbursts of anger would alienate me, and to please try to moderate that, and she said she wasn't willing to change that behavior, and she would express herself in the way she pleased.

The truth is, my mom terrifies me because of her anger, because of these unpredictable displays of anger, and that's why I've tried to distance myself from her over the past 6.5 years. She's seen me try to distance myself, and she's been so angry about that. Every time I've tried to reconcile with her and give her more chances, she blindsides me again with another incident.

Long story short (lmao, this was not a "long story short," it's been a long story) she doubled down and refused to apologize, or to make any changes to her behavior. We are now estranged. I will stay in touch with my dad and will not be in touch with her.

It's difficult, it's painful, but nobody in my life has ever hurt me more than my mom has. Repeatedly, over and over again, since I was in my teens. I'm not in a point in my life where I can tolerate emotional abuse any longer. I'm already going through enough pain with the prospect of losing my dad.

I couldn't see my therapist yesterday or today because she's on vacation for Labor Day. I'm not going to lie, it's been hard, but I've made a lot of difficult decisions and life changes since my dad was diagnosed. I'm looking forward to therapy on Tuesday.

#lanturing

[the-writing-avocado]

Oh, How The Pain Lingers... And it is so bittersweet

Oh, how the pain lingers...

I cannot go to sleep at night.

Before, with him there to say "night night"

I could at least force myself to stop scrolling,

stop pacing, stop typing. Just stop.

Because it was late. And he was watching from the perch

and it was Ten O'clock and if I did not need sleep

He did. So, I would get up and he'd scramble to his favourite perch---

The highest one, where he could watch over everyone,

and as I turned off the TV

and as I switched the light off

In the dark I'd hear him

"Night Night"

"Night Night Cheeko"

"Night Night"

All the way up the stair with his voice to guide me like an angel.

Mummy hurts the most though.

During the day he rested on her shoulder, her knee, her leg

And chattered, or slept, or let her tickle his head.

The silence is not death, but it is the echo

It is the void filled with tears and love and despair.

And regret. It is a demon that threatens to consume me---

It had me in a chokehold and I am torn between succumbing to the suffering

or fighting for my life.

Is it selfish to cry and mourn?

Or selfish to move on?

I am stuck, staring at where his cage used to be

Is it selfish to be glad of the extra space?

Is it foolish to keep the cage up---a constant knife to reopen the wound?

Daddy does not cry, though he mourns all the same.

"Cheeko would want you to be happy-- He wouldn't want you to punish yourself crying."

he says, voice breaking.

We'd barely known him and he died,

he'd already taken our hearts

and did not even do the injustice of abandoning them to bleed.

He went to his death, and so did we.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

I can't scream, I can't cry enough, I can't breathe.

Is this what it's like to be buried alive?

and guilt is a monster, and hope is its greatest weapon.

did we do something wrong?

we had a balanced diet, and we gave him extra calcium.

We gave him extra calcium---

If I had been there, instead of galivanting off on holiday

Would he be okay now?

If mum had gone an hour earlier, would it have been alright?

If she had seen the foreshadowing in more than hindsight.

So many ifs and unknowns. To many opportunities to blame ourselves.

Months in our care and he was dead.

But he had been so, so happy. If you had only seen him-

It was not our fault---what if it was our fault.

And then there is that villainous hope. The belief that everything happens for a reason.

You see, he came to us deficient in calcium.

It was a heart attack that killed him

because we took him to the vet

because he was very low on calcium

And maybe it was our fault.

But he came to us always sleeping, never flying, forever loving.

We assumed that was just how he was---the bird with the sweetest temperament my family had ever known

and mum had grown up rescuing and loving birds of all sorts.

So maybe it wasn't.

Maybe it was fate and he was always dying

because in his last few months he was happy

he was loved

and he was loved so much---my sister held him as he died

and in the morning he always came and sat on my bed rail

i could stroke his head for hours and sing with him in the shower

and mum spent almost every hour with him

and dad always played silly games with him and he'd get all fluffy and flirty

or when we ever did exercise, he ran around the top of his cage

singing and whistling, feathers flying.

He was loved.

and maybe, maybe, maybe

he was always dying

and something brought him to us so that he could die happy

Is it selfish to be afraid of the alternative?

Is it arrogant to hope that it's the case?

Mum said now he is free to fly where ever he wants

And I suppose, however I look at it

whatever I believe in the moment

His freedom---whatever form it takes---is irrefutable

I pray he is peaceful, though I have long forsaken believing in any God

I pray with each gasping breath that though my pain lingers, his has eased.

Oh, how the pain lingers

Oh, how I wish it would not

Oh, how I wish it would

Love and pain are kindred spirits

and it is so bittersweet

#poetry #poem #grief #poets #poet #writing #words #tears #crying #tw death #death mention #tw grieving #suffering #spilled ink #spilled tears #wriblr #dead poets society #my poetry #my poem #cheeko #love #love and loss #death #im sorry #I could write a thousand things about him #but I cannot preserve him in writing #there is too much #words can describe love #can make it strong and unyeilding #but i have not the power to write him as beautifully as he lived

[forestbathingx]

this one is to hedwig, someone i love dearly

i don't think i can explain without metaphor what is going on inside and within me anymore, i've shut myself from this world and other souls away for far too long. I've forgotten the patterns of the footprints on my sandy shores, the waves, tidal, monstrous, merciless, wash back and forth like a windscreen wiper. eternal darkness of the spotless mind - this alternative also applies. my forgetting desires to leave bad truths behind, but they collect dust instead and form ghosts that haunt and echo the empty hallways.

my mother grew up an orphan, her mother left her to join the communist party, during China's perplexing political shift, a time of vast change, progress. maybe she never learnt what unconditional love was, my parents are a product of their time, like each of us, yet their time is the stuff of movies, the stuff of nightmares, the stuff they write about in history novels. Or worse for China, they DON'T write in novels. what they censor and ban from their music, their papers, their online and offline reality. it's the denial of a basic humanity, of freedom of expression, thought, sexuality, nuance, wholeness, of the sound of the human heart, the answers to our innate desires, the portrait of the human condition - cancelled and erased.

i loved a boy in my final year of highschool with my whole heart, i felt invisible and misunderstood that year, as we looked towards our future. For some reason my father detested him, he decided to spend our holiday taking me to the most freezing city in China, for a few days, to persuade me all night about how i was not to love him, not to marry him (mind you i was only 19 and hardly knew what that meant) not to spend my time on him any longer (his family wasn't rich or thriving, they had challenges). Doing everything, besides physically locking me away from him, they disapproved and made it their mission to separate us. They continued this towards my life, my finances, my career, my passions and the rest of my precious thoughts and ways of being.

Isaac was my best friend, the amount of nights we spent talking until sunrise were innumerable, we read passages about God and life and everything in between, found ourselves through each other, and to this day is one of my dear friends despite our differences. I'll never forget the day he said ' I'm so scared of how much your parents hate me'. How could some part of me frighten someone I love, so so much? I began to feel like I destroyed everything I touched.

I was afraid of a cold-war that had begun between my family and I, but the casualty was my heart. I developed some facets of mental illness & self-destruction i won't go into birdy, but it's safe to say words cannot describe the terrible rift that began to separate us. my heart felt like it had left home, and in 2016 I really left home and never looked back, and i wasn't sure when or whether i'd ever be back, spiritually. you're right that they probably love me, but it's a little venomous. it shakes me to my core, and cripples me with self-doubt. i love them too, but i know not how to lead them out of blindness.

the day i lost my friend, i was coincidentally out of money, because you know how i also sadly lost my job last month. i called my dad to help fork me some cash for some food, just to get by for a few days. my heart was tired and i was shaken by the news of my friends passing, when his voice, low and ominous, shoots an arrow, breaking some fragile unreachable thing inside of me. "i can't help you when you're so irresponsible with your money."

i stand against a tree, sinking my entire body weight into its trunk. at least this beautiful piece of nature has roots planted firmly in the ground, because the ground beneath me is giving in, and i need it to keep me upright.

so forgive my despair hedwig, forgive my moments of vanishing and fleeing, of days I've wanted to go away until i'm gone. my biggest grief in this life is falling and cowering away from those i intend to love, because my instincts know only running from those i have been born to love by blood. i'll fight my best fight h, because there's so much yet to do in this life, so much of the world to change, so many souls to love, so many sunsets to see, not to mention that deep blue Egyptian sea, and seeing spirits move amongst humans, and a calling to follow. a chance to throw rotten wood to burn a beautiful fire that will warm all the cold hearts i meet.

I love you,

أهواك

爱你

Jaza, yours

[falcqns]

my little flower

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x mom!reader

summary: bucky’s daughter turns one.

warnings: angst, and fluff. probably canon errors but i don’t have the comics on hand sorryyyyy

a/n: just me expressing emotion through mr boobky boobernoobs. also the little letter the reader has written is what i have written for my daughters birthday. LASTLY i know i have a story for Henry Cavill and his daughters name is lavender and i was gonna change it but then it wouldn’t make sense so i just kept it yk. anyways, hope you enjoy.

Bucky glanced at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

he was alternating between looking at the clock, his phone, and his sleeping daughter.

she turned one tomorrow, and he had no clue what to write. there were so many things he wanted to say, but he knew he had limited space on instagram captions to do so.

he wasn’t into instagram too much, but some how Sam and Wanda had convinced him to post for his daughters birthday. he had a few other pictures of you and her, and one or two of him on there already.

posting those seemed so easy for him. he took the picture, thought of a caption pre war Bucky would use, and hit post.

but when it came to his daughters birthday? the 106 year old was clueless.

he had asked you for advice, and you had just told him to remember what it felt the first time he held her, which was not helpful, because the first thing he felt was fear.

then, an overwhelming and crushing sense of love. like everything made sense. everything was clearer, because of the tiny little baby in his arms. he was terrified. more scared than he was when he was hanging on to that train for dear life, hoping he could just reach Steve’s hand. more scared than when he knew his memories of Steve and Rebecca and everyone in his past was fading due to Zola and Hydra.

a million times more scared than when he watched himself dust away in that beautiful Wakandan forest.

he was scared, but at the same time, he felt so safe. it was the same kind of safe he felt with you, but more intense. he knew that the little girl he was holding would never judge him for his past. all she would do is love him, love her Tătic.

Tătic. he had heard a Romanian child say it when he was seeking refuge in Bucharest, and he knew that’s what he wanted to be called. not dad, daddy, dada, papa, or any other versions of father. he wanted Tătic.

he felt safe, at home even, in Bucharest. yes, his apartment was rather shitty, but it was his. he had something materialistic and tangible that was fully his, after not having anything, not even his own body, to himself for over 50 years.

Bucky refocused his eyes on his phone, and decided to glance at what you had posted. he sighed as he realized that it was absolutely beautiful, and that nothing he could do would top it.

it was a video of all the firsts that Bucky had insisted on recording. he remembered sitting in his bed, in Bucharest, a few weeks after getting there. he had been thinking about Rebecca, and suddenly, a memory of her first steps came to him. he saw her little chubby body wobble before she took her first steps into their mother’s waiting arms. Bucky knew he couldn’t have been too old, but immediately started sobbing when he realized he’d never get to relive that moment. he didn’t stop sobbing for a good few hours. out of happiness, sadness, regret, he didn’t know. he had scrambled to grab a journal and wrote down every detail of that moment, before stuffing it in his go bag.

reliving it wasn’t something he’d ever thought about before, in 1945. there weren’t affordable video cameras, and there was no way to store them forever. so when Lavender came along, he insisted that every little first be recorded so he could relive it over and over again.

he watched as she took her first breath, rolled for the first time, crawled for the first time, said her first word (it was ‘plum’) and walked for the first time.

his eyes drifted down to the paragraph, and focused on reading the words.

‘lavender.

your name represents purity, silence, devotion, calmness, serenity, and grace. i gave you this name because i know you will represent all of those things. i named you after Lavender Brown from Harry Potter. Lavender was a beautiful, strong, and amazing character. she showered Ron with love, and adoration, which is all i have felt this past year of being your mama. you remind me of Lavender in so many ways. from the smiles i get to see in the morning, to the cuddles i get at night, to the way you, just this week, saw another child crying in daycare and went and offered your toy up without a second thought. you then hobbled away, and found a new toy. you never came to me to show you what you did, you never took another child’s toy now that yours was gone, you just did it. that is something Lavender did. Lavender gave everything to Ron without a second thought. she may not have been appreciated, but i will appreciate you and all of the little things that you do to help others, even at just a year old. you bring light and love to whoever is near you. you love with your whole being, which i adore. you’re only one, but you put your hands in the air and sing (babble, really) along to every single praise song, you dance, you sit quietly during prayer, and most importantly you love God with everything in your tiny little body. from the moment the nurses laid your even tinier body on my chest, it was just you, me, and your father. i had dreamed of that moment for years, but nothing compared to it. one year ago today, you were placed on my chest, a screaming red little bundle, and you instantly calmed down. i remember looking down at you and being so happy that i finally had my little girl. i remember thinking “God really sent me an angel in the form of a baby,” which is EXACTLY what he did. you are my sweet baby girl, and always will be. i will love and. adore you for the rest of my life. my sweetie pie, my Laffy Taffy, my love. my little flower, Lavender. happy birthday.’

how could he follow that?

he took another glance at the crib that sat at the end of the bed, and watched as his daughter sighed, and pushed her diapered butt up in the air before continuing to snooze.

he looked down at his phone, and decided to just follow his heart. let the words flow. it didn’t matter if it made sense, but he wanted the world to know just how much he loved her.

he took a deep breath, and began to type.

‘lavender rebecca barnes.

there are so many words that i could use to describe how wonderful, sweet, kind, adorable, and gracious you are, but even all of those could never fully express how much i love you, and how much you mean to me.

when your mom told me about you, i was terrified. i have done so many bad things in my life, why was God rewarding me with a tiny little human? i spent so many nights praying to God that i would never hurt you. that you would never see me as the world does. that you would never judge me for the things that i did.

but i didn’t have to worry. the second i saw your little face, all of those stresses and anxieties melted away. as i held you, i realized that you were mine. fully mine. having something of my own is something that i was deprived of for many years, and one day you will learn about that.

when i held you for the first time, i was petrified. you were tiny. the smallest, but most real thing i had ever held. you didn’t cry, you just gazed up at me. almost as if you knew i was your Tătic. that you knew i was your father.

your mother tells me that when babies are born, they don’t understand the grasp of ‘mother and father’, they more recognize who is a safe caregiver and who isn’t.

you, without a hesitation, recognized me as a safe caregiver, and have stood by that every one of these last 365 you have graced me, your mother, and everyone around you with your presence.

it has been a pleasure to watch you grow, and as much as it makes me sad knowing that one day you’ll know the truth about me, i know you won’t judge me. i know you will love me for me. the man who created you, who helped give you life.

you are such a special little girl, and i can only hope to show you just how special you are for the rest of my life.

i love you, lavender rebecca barnes.’

his thumb shook as it hovered over the post button, but he pressed it anyways. the screen brought up a loading symbol for less than a second, and then the post was there.

he shut off his phone, and placed it on the charger next to him, before getting up and walking to the crib.

he lifted her out, and laid her on his chest, before walking back to the bed and sitting down carefully. he gazed down at his daughter, a fact that still blew his mind, as she slept so soundly, even with the coolness of the metal arm probably seeping through the fabric of her white kitty cat onesie.

he glanced over at the clock, and didn’t stop the tear that rolled down his face when it hit 12:00.

“happy birthday, my little flower.”

#bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes smut #mcu bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan man you lookin good

[goldenkirstein]

i've been on fire, dreaming of you

or alternatively, when both you and jean thought you lost each other

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anonymous requested: hello there! I love your stuff. if requests are open, may I request a canonverse post-rumbling jean x fem reader where y/n is wounded + passed out from exhaution after the rumbling and wakes up warm and safe, with jean tending to her wounds. Y/n is shocked bc she remembers how she almost lost Jean (she didn't get turned into a titan, maybe she isn't Eldian?) and she just shoots straight up to embrace Jean without realizing the intensity of her wounds. Jean gets extra worried so he has to gently guide her back to lying down on the bed because she has a fever and her injuries aren't all better yet 🥺👉👈 maybe they cuddle afterwards until she falls asleep or smth aaaaaa 🥺 pairing: jean x fem! reader wc: 2.7k+ tags: angst to fluff, cursing, female reader, mentions of death, blood and violence, hints of blasphemy (?), mentions of injuries, aot manga spoilers.

a/n: sorry this took so long, (i was shadowbanned) i changed up the request a teensy bit but otherwise i hope you enjoy !!

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Hot, burning, searing pain is the last thing you remembered before your vision went black.

That and the sight of the man you loved transforming into the one thing you feared the most.

Whether it was the heartache or the open wounds on your body that made you lose consciousness, you don’t know.

Truthfully, you were angry at Jean.

It was a whispered confession on the Azumabito airship. You and Jean sat in the corner, Captain Levi and Pieck in front of you, eyes cast away. The rest sat in silence, reeling from the situation that had played out on the ground below, quietly preparing themselves for the hell that awaited them at Fort Slava.

Jean’s hands were trembling; you would expect that after years of seeing your comrades die at the hands of humans and titans alike, you would get used to the death.

This wasn’t that, though; this was a different fear and anxiousness. Jean’s hands were clammy and his face pale; you could gauge that from one look at the man next to you, whatever worries were bubbling inside him were the accumulation of all the events from the past couple of days.

Jean was a collected man most times; as commanding officer, he didn’t have a choice but to be stoic and calm in the face of danger. But when that facade began to crumble, you would be there to ground him, remind him of why he was fighting. You knew that if you locked eyes at that moment, Jean would be able to see right through the front you were putting up, see the fear etched into your irises as you all were hurtling towards your deaths. So instead, you made the executive decision to swallow that panic and be that rock he needed, offering him your hand.

You took hold of his hand, staring ahead, and squeezed it three times, a reminder for both him and you that at least you still had each other. You could feel his eyes on you after you performed the simple gesture, but you continued to look ahead, focusing on the clouds, knowing that a couple of meters below, havoc was being wreaked by those mindless titan drones.

He said it so faintly, so lightly that you barely heard it past the sounds of the engine reverberating around the metal cabin.

“I’ll love you now and forever, even when I’m a pile of burnt bones.”

It’s like he knew. It was his way of saying goodbye to you. And you ignored him.

You clenched your jaw and pretended that you didn’t hear, pushed it to the back of your mind because this was no place for hushed confessions of love and, even more so, goodbyes. You were sure as hell were not letting Jean say goodbye to you. There would be no reason to, not if you had it your way. The both of you were bound together, and goodbyes were never to be uttered between the both of you.

Even when I’m a pile of burnt bones.

Is that what remains of him now? The muscle, sinew, and skin that pieced Jean together all reduced to ash and soot? The body that you had spent hours tracing, memorizing every detail of scattered in the wind. You would never feel the weight of his body on yours again, be able to graze your fingers over the scars littered on his torso, feel the way his heart would beat against your hands.

Jean Kirstein would only exist in your mind from now on.

He had left you alone with nothing but his memory, but even then, it was plagued by the image of a senseless titan taking the shape of Jean.

You wished to go back and tell him to shut up, never to utter those words again. Tell him to get those foolish notions out of his head, slap your hands over his mouth, silencing him, so that you could continue to live in your deluded reality that both of you would make it out alive. Tell him that he was selfish, of leaving you here to endure this torment by yourself.

Would that stop the scathing agony you were feeling?

Maybe this was hell you were in, you thought. That you were being punished for ignoring him, that you were the foolish one. Perhaps you should’ve held him tight to you, found a way to fold himself into you, so you wouldn’t have to suffer alone. Were you angry at Jean, or was that resentment directed at yourself?

The pain spread from your chest to your arms, down your legs, coursing through your veins.

You should have looked at him, told him that you were just as scared; maybe that could have changed his fate. If only you repeated those words back to him. He would still be here now.

I’ll love you now and forever.

I love him. I love him. I love him.

Bring him back to me.

The silent prayer came from the depths of your heart; whether God or who knows what would hear it, you didn’t know, but the thought of having to live with this ache was enough for you to continue repeating the mantra in your head.

--

Jean looked at your unconscious form that laid next to his seat. If it wasn’t for the gentle rising and falling of your chest, he could have sworn you were dead.

The thought sent a chill down his spine.

Jean had made peace with the fact that he would die when he transformed into a titan. Seeing you, like this, however, barely grasping onto your own life, made his body ache; he was okay with dying, but the thought of having to live without you was a fate worse than death.

He reached over to grab your hand and rubbed his thumb over the back of your palm before grasping it and squeezing it three times. He let go of it, placing it back gently over the top of your torso.

It was time to change your bandages and clean your wounds. Jean was a strong man; he had seen firsthand what a titan could do to one’s body, but his hands quivered as they unwrapped the bloodied bandages from your thigh. One singular thought overcame his mind.

Was he the reason that you were injured this badly? Did he hurt you?

Jean had spent many nights tending to your injuries, his hands careful when it came to you. However, the cuts and gashes he would tenderly patch up would always be inflicted by other humans or titans. Never did he think that his hands would be capable of hurting you. Jean was disgusted with himself as he stared straight ahead at his hands, now covered in blood.

The worst part of this, Jean thought, was that he couldn’t even remember if he was responsible for this, or maybe, that was a blessing. Recalling the situation would drive him into madness. The man winced at the thought of his arms tearing up your body.

He reached over to the tiny side table holding the medical supplies, grabbing the antiseptic solution. Dabbing it on a cloth, he attentively cleaned the wound, instinctively checking for your reaction. You would always make a fuss when he would apply it, but Jean averted his eyes once he realized that there was no reaction from your comatose form.

Usually, he would scold you when you would pull back from his hands when he tended to your wounds, but now any response would be better than having to tolerate the silence in the tiny room.

Jean got up to clean his hands in the basin, warm water turning red once he dipped his hands in. This was his punishment; he would have to suffer the consequences of his actions. The both of you were alive; Jean knew that he should be grateful, get on his hands and knees and thank the gods above. However, why should he be thankful? It was cruel. The both of you were not alive by the grace of God; this wasn’t mercifulness or benevolence.

What good is living if you have to sit and watch the one you love the most deteriorate in front of your eyes.

“You need to sleep; this isn’t healthy.” Connie was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. Although he was speaking to Jean, his eyes were transfixed on you.

Jean didn’t need to look at himself to know how terrible he looked. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, his face pale and gaunt. He spent his days and nights in your room, never wanting to miss the moment when you would wake up.

If. If you woke up, not when. Even that was not guaranteed.

“I’m not leaving her side, Connie.” Jean dried his hands on the cloth next to the basin. He turned his head to look at his friend, whose eyes were now staring back into his.

Connie understood the situation; he wanted you to wake up as well, but it pained him to see Jean suffer like this, “Spending your days sitting next to her waiting for her to wake up won’t help her, Jean.”

“You don’t think I fucking know that?” Jean slammed his hand down on the basin, hair falling in front of his face. Connie’s eyes widened at his friend’s action; to say that Jean was frustrated would be an understatement.

“You got your mom back, Annie got to see her dad, even those damn kids found each other. I got her back, but it’s my fault she’s like this.” Jean gritted his teeth, lip quivering.

Connie’s heart sank; he had seen Jean at his worst, but this was almost unbearable to witness. He made his way over to the hunched-over man and squeezed his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault Jean. This is difficult, believe me, I know, but you can’t be blaming yourself.” Connie’s eyes flickered your form, and he clenched his jaw.

Jean shifted his head, sullen eyes peering at your face through strands of hair; the man shook his head as a sob escaped his lips, “I need her to wake up Connie. I can’t live without her; I don’t know how to.”

--

You felt a gentle breeze on your face and an odd pressure around your ribs. Laying still for a moment, you waited for the pressure to subside, but instead, it made its way down to your thigh. You tried to open your eyes, but it was as if they were glued shut; there was no strength left in your body.

How many days had it been? Where were you?

Questions circled amidst your clouded mind as you lay immobile. You realized that the pressure you were feeling on your body was the weight of someone’s hands. How badly were you injured?

Memories flooded into your mind as you became aware of the situation you were in currently. Someone had rescued you at Fort Slava, and you were being treated at a medical facility by nurses. No, not nurses; the hands felt oddly familiar. They were careful and precise in their movements but carried tenderness as well.

You tried to take a deep breath in, to gather strength to move any one of your limbs, but paused immediately as the pain in your ribs was far too great. Shallow breaths would suffice for the time being. You began to focus on moving your fingers, channelling whatever energy you had left to at least get them to move.

The sheets underneath your fingers were soft as you gently moved your digits along the fabric. The hands on your thigh briefly paused before continuing their movements. You waited a minute before moving again, this time lifting your hand.

You couldn’t feel the hands on your body anymore.

Whoever had been treating your wounds whispered your name. It was a man, but you weren’t able to recognize their voice as everything was still groggy.

The man sharply inhaled, his voice shaking as he said your name once again.

You mustered the strength to open your eyes; your eyelids were heavy and hard to fight to keep open. The room was blurry and far too bright for your liking, but you continued to blink, and soon, the details surrounding you came into focus. The figure was still, waiting for your next move; you lolled your head to the side to get a better look at him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

He slowly came into focus; he was holding your hand between his and planting kisses on the back of your palm.

Why was he apologizing? Who was he?

Your heartbeat quickened as his voice became more apparent; this had to be some sick nightmare. You slowly sat up and reached out to him to cement the fact that this couldn’t be real. Your hand made contact with his knee; he was warm, he was alive.

Tears were running down your cheeks as your eyes scanned up his frame until landing on his face. Jean stared back at you, eyes wide, your hand still held in his.

Your face contorted as you took in the sight in front of you; you were so sure you had lost him, and yet here he was. Sitting up fully, you used your free hand to grip on to his white button-down and pull him into you with whatever remaining strength you had. Jean dropped your hand, and you swiftly wrapped both of your arms around him, eyes fluttering shut to take in his presence.

A pile of burnt bones.

It wasn’t a dream; you could feel his heartbeat against your body, feel his hair against your cheek. You sobbed into the crook of his neck, ignoring the immense pain you were feeling, scared that if you let him go, he would scatter in the wind.

“Jean, I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry, I should’ve told you-” Your voice was scratchy and hoarse, still weak from the slumber which had woken from a few minutes ago.

He brought a hand up to rest against your head, “I’m the one who’s sorry; why are you apologizing?” Jean pulled away from you, causing you to wince.

You furrowed your brows in confusion; he gently laid you back down on the bed before continuing, “I hurt you when I transformed into a titan; I’m the one who’s responsible-” Jean paused, his eyes landing on the gauze on your upper leg.

He wasn’t making any sense to you; shaking your head, you frowned at him, “What do you mean? I saw you transform before I passed out; I got injured by the rubble falling from the fort.”

“I should be apologizing, not you. When we were in the airship, you told me you loved me, and I ignored you, Jean, and then I thought you died and lost you. I’m terrible-” You looked up at him through teary eyes; Jean wiped your tears before kissing your cheeks.

“All this time, I was scared that I had almost killed you, and here you thought that I was dead.” He whispered, hands caressing your cheek.

“You’re not dead right; if I close my eyes, you’ll still be here?” You brought your hand up to hold his, letting out a shaky breath.

“No, my love, I’m not dead, and I’m not going anywhere.” Jean pressed a light kiss to your forehead. You cautiously sat up before moving over slightly to make room for him on the small bed.

“Can you lie here with me? Don’t wanna let go of you yet.” He nodded his head before getting up from his seat to lie next to you.

You placed your head on his chest, eyes fluttering shut. Your hand traced the buttons on his shirt, slowly getting lulled to sleep by the sound of his steady heartbeat.

Jean’s fingers skimmed your side; overwhelming happiness filled his chest; he was relieved that you were alright and that he hadn’t been the one at fault for your current state. He felt you press a kiss where his heart was, and his lips curled into a smile.

“You know why I said what I said on the airship?”

“Hmm, why?” Your ears piqued in interest.

“Because I knew that even if I died, I’d find you again, somehow somewhere.”

You let out a sigh, silently thanking whoever it was that answered your prayers.

I love him and you brought him back to me.

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this !! any feedback is appreciated !! i tried something a little different than how i usually write, so please don't be shy to tell me if you liked it or not and what could be improved !!

also i apologize for not being active these past couple of days, my tumblr went haywire and i was shadowbanned, its all fixed now but again super sorry !!

taglist: @c0urtn3y, @depressedbisexual, @dai-tsukki-desu, @clean-soap, @nevcrmxre, @conniesspringersgf, @glittrkink

click here to join my taglist

As always, please leave a like/reblog if you enjoyed this, I appreciate it lots <33

#jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein #jean kirstein #attack on titan #aot #aot x reader #aot fluff #jean kirschtein imagine #jean kirstein fanfiction #jean kirstein fluff #jean kirstein imagine #jean kirschtein x you #jean x y/n #snk #snk x reader #snk imagines #jean kirstein x you #jean kirschtein x y/n #jean kirstein x y/n #attack on titan x reader #my writing #jean kirstein angst #jean angst #jean fluff #jean kirschtein angst #jean kirschtein fluff #aot angst #snk angst #connie springer

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

Treasure Hunter AU

I binged watch the Mummy trilogy while i had no wifi/internet for a while and I had an idea for a treasure hunter Mari with Daminette.

--------

Damian was bored.(age: 22-28 years old.)

At a gala party.

Meets Marinette who was equally bored.(abt the same age as D)

He finds out she was the finder of this famous artifact on display.

-----

Damian tugged at his collar, scanning the crowd. His father needed a plus one to show up with and everyone else were busy.

He grabbed a champagne flute and made his way to the edge of the room.

He found a woman in a black evening gown, looking as bored as he felt. short dark hair. Blue eyes.( I suck at describing people after the third time doing it. It feels overrated)

"Hello, stranger. You bored with mingling in with the assholes on their high horses?"

"Should I be offended?"

"We will see. Depends on you."

"How about you? A beautiful lady like you not kissing up their asses to climb the social ladder. That is strange."

She made a face. "Trust me. I don't want to be here but my friend wanted family time so I came in his place. What about you? Why are you here?"

"I am pretty sure my father wanted someone to get him out if the vultures came too close."

"Vultures, adept descriptions. I am glad no one realized who I am yet or i would be in their claws."

"Who are you representing, anyways?"

"Myself but Adrien or Kagami usually comes in my place but tonight, they have their son's play to go to."

"Adrien and Kagami. Aren't they the Agreste-Tsrungi?"

"Yep."

"You are the Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Globe trotting Treasure hunter and also world-class designer, MDC."

"Now you know. What's your name, handsome stranger?"

"You don't know?"

"Hey. Like you said globetrotting treasure hunter. I am not up-to-date on the news front. And when I am in Paris to do designer stuff, i am too busy to look at the news."

He gave her his hand, "Damian Wayne. Son of Bruce Wayne who is a billionaire and owns Wayne Enterprise."

She shook it.

"Pleased to meet you."

She stills design but like sent her designs to Adrien at least once every month, who had rebranded Gabriel to Miraculous Designs.

Some ppl thinks he did it to spite his father, who is in jail. Adrien and Mari has a partnership thing.

Mari also makes clothes but for a few months. And the rest of the time is spent travelling.

Exclusive designs from MDC are rare but the designs hand made by her are rarer so they are like a really big deal. They have the most amazing details. Really expensive and limited edition.

The rest of the time Mari spends finding Miraculouses (Miraculi ?) lost in the world so if she happens to find a few priceless artifacts that aren't the Miraculous. She donates it.

Alix helps and sometimes go find them with her.

She has Tikki and Plagg and maybe Wyazz all the time to look for curses and counter it.

She has also met John Constantine. They have an arrangement of sorts. A few magical artifacts that doesn't have to Miraculous business are given to him in exchange for any miraculous stuff he has or found.

Adrien funds her trips.

He is married to Kagami.

Kagami goes with Mari and Alix for a few months sometimes. Adrien likes being a stay at home dad.

Their kid is named Marin/Martin because it was Mari who got them together.

The few trips Mari dragged him on was enough to make him stay behind and run the business.

(Back to the story) Damian fangirled a little because Mari had been doing stuff like this since she was 18.

It was an amazing reputation she has.

She invites him to her next trip after questioning his skill sets.

------

"Are you good with heights, dark scary places and adventuring into the unknown?"

"Yes"

"You any good with guns, swords, knives, booby traps and keeping calm under pressure?"

"Yes. I have many experiences with them."

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Yes. Why are you asking me this?"

"Wanna join me on my next trip to the jungle of China? There are myths about some hidden temple."

------

Damian was a little conflicted.

He hadn't have the chance to explore the world much. He had been somewhere else for a mission (for the League of Shadows or JL business) but never for pleasure.

Being a vigilante by night and working at Wayne Enterprise by day gets a little boring after some years.

His brothers had a chance to travel the world on their own for a while. Sure, for reasons other than sight-seeing and looking for something to break out of the rut he was in. But still.

This was an exciting opportunity but a tad suspicious.

-----

"Why me?"

She looked surprised at that.

"Oh. Well, my friends enjoy coming with me on my adventures, treasure hunting and all that every now and then except Adrien but they have other things in their life to come with me all the time. I can mostly survive on my own most of the time but it gets lonely travelling on my own and it's nice if someone is there to watch my back. I understand if you don't want to come. It's just that I enjoy your company and you aren't like those assholes on their high horses. My gut feeling says I can trust you. You are not after the treasure or see it as one big game. You are looking for an escape. You would definitely catch me if I fall. As you know from my choice of friends, i have a bad habit of pulling rich kids from their stuffy lifestyle and take them on potentially life-threatening adventures." She joked. Then she lowered her voice, "Besides, it might be handy having a former assassin around."

She said in Arabic.

His hand went to his hidden knife and found it not there.

"Looking for this?" She said, holding it.

"How much do you know?" He hissed back in the same language.

"Relax," she gave back the knife, "my mother was one and I have accidentally came across a few in my adventures. I know one when i see one. I took a stab in the dark with your middle-eastern background. Speaking of, you know Talia Al Ghul by any chance."

He narrowed his eyes.

"She's my mother. Why?"

"You look like her. Met her a few times. Nice lady but scary. Mine's Sabine Cheng, goes by the Blue Reaper." She said it so casually like their parents weren't dangerous deadly assassins and had normal jobs.

"You aren't normal, are you?"

"What gave it away?"

"That you willingly gave away blackmail material to me."

"Normal people don't have assassins for mothers. And you and me aren't exactly meeting the minimum standards for normal. Besides, I just told you a family secret that you would have found out anyways with a through background search and a little digging. So far all I know about you is that your parents are Talia Al Ghul and Bruce Wayne-I wonder how an assassin got together with a billionaire-, you are a former League of Shadows assassin, you are great with weapons, keeping secrets and so far meeting the criteria for an adventure buddy. That's all I swear. And that you have some pets. A cat, maybe."

"How you know about my cat?!"

"Cat hair on your clothes." She was good. "If it will ease your mind about me, you can ask me 5 questions that I will truthfully answer. "

"So why are you doing this?"

"That's question 1. Well, I really want whatever this is between us to work. Partners, Friends, Companions, Comrades. Whatever you want to call it. Like I said, I get lonely sometimes and need some human interaction to at least keep myself sane. You looked like you want to be somewhere else and I thought this is perfect. I am not going to tell anyone about you or push you to join me. I swear on my mother's sword."

"Are we killing anybody?"

"Mostly I try to avoid that as much as possible. Sometimes I get into situations with no other alternative. " She looked away guiltily.

"Fair enough."

"Not judging me for that. That's a first for me."

"I am a former assassin and have killed before. I have no right to condemn you for your past."

"How much are you willing to tell me about this hidden temple?"

"That has to do with a secret. I would tell you more when there are less ears around. But this temple was said to hold a magic jewel that grants some powers and it is located really deep in the jungle. Getting there might take months."

"You forgot to mention that last one."

"Oh yeah. You think you can get away for some months. This kind of stuff usually takes a while. Like I said before, no pressure. Anyway, 2 questions left."

"What's my salary?"

"Aren't you a billionaire?"

"My father is. I have a trust fund and I get a salary for doing my job at the company. You are lucky that I just finished with most of my assigned projects so I might be able to come."

"I am so sorry about just assuming things about you. You can say no to the offer. The temple is said to hold some other treasures but I mainly want the jewel. We could auction off a few bits and pieces. I usually just donate them to museums and universities or sell them to those who really appreciate the history. I would also pay for the entire expenses for the trip."

"Can I think about this?"

"Sure. Here's my number. I leave on the 1st of next month. Gimme an answer a week before that so I can make the proper arrangements. It has been fun talking to you, Damian."

She walked away, going towards the buffet table.

------

Back in the car on the way home to the manor.

Bruce asked, "Who were you talking to for that long?"

"Who?"

"The one that gave you her number."

"Oh. MDC. She invited me to join her in China next month to find some hidden temple."

"She did?"

"Yes. Not only that she found out about mother and know what I did before I came here. She doesn't know about Batman, Robin or Crow. And she said she wasn't going to blackmail me but just wanted a companion to go with her. Ideally, it would be best to silence her before she digs any further into me but I trust her. I sincerely believe that she meant it when she said that she's not going to tell on me. And I am really tempted to take up on it."

"What do you want to do?"

"On one hand, i would be gone for months so there won't be Crow in Gotham for a while and I have a few projects I need to finish up. On the other hand. Father, I have been a vigilante for over 10 years now and I haven't really done much out besides that, school and now work. I have appreciated all you have done for me over the years. But I want to go with her. Do something that is not connected to Batman or Wayne or Al Ghul. Just a little something different for myself."

"You can go if you want. I am not going to stop you. I will make arrangements so the projects would be done by someone else. The others can cover your patrols. You are still young so it is understandable to want some fun every now and then."

"Thank you, Father."

Bruce put his hand on his shoulder.

"I am proud of you as Crow and as Damian Wayne. But if you want to go find some hidden temple in China just for a break from this life, to be just Damian, go for it. There are worse things you could do. Just tell me if you are going to go on any future trips like that." (I don't know DC much, sorry if that is a little OOC but I like good dad! Bruce.)

-------

Damian dialed the number on the card.

"Hello"

"I accept your offer, miss MDC."

"Damian? Right, text me your email address. I will sent you things you would need to pack and flight details. And can you come by to the Gotham Rose Hotel tomorrow? I will give more details on the temple."

-------

Damian comes by the hotel.

Marinette tells him of the kwamis and miraculous and makes him swear to not tell anyone unless they already know.

The hidden temple actually might have a miraculous.

Damian gets a little interested in the akuma situation she mentioned.

Mari doesn't say anything about it much.

When he got back, he goes to the Bat-computer and did some digging.

Ladybug looks a little familiar. Pulls up younger picture of Mari and look at that, she used to be a superhero.

Wonder Woman was kept informed of things and made sure no one goes to Paris without her knowing.

Zatanna helped capture the villain Hawkmoth and end his 2 year reign.

Fast forward, they are in Beijing now, sleeping off jetlag.

The next morning, They get out of the city somehow to the city limits and somewhere remote.

Mari uses Kalki and transports them to the jungle.

They set up camp. Cue Campfire stories.

-----

"I thought getting here would take months."

"No actually, finding the temple would. According to my research and the map I copied through less than legal means, it is somewhere in this general area. There used to a city around here too and the king or emperor pissed off some powerful priest or wizard, take your pick. There was a curse. The city crumbled down and the temple is the only thing standing because the king went there and prayed to the gods for protection. The one who answered his prayers and protected the temple in doing so the king was pressed into service of the god. The king did everything the god said for a while but later, he started to hate it and began disobeying the orders. The god cursed him for his disobedience. The temple he was protected in became his tomb and he was tasked to protect the chest inside the temple for the rest of eternity. Anyone who opens the chest would gain the ultimate power to rule the earth. Thankfully, we are not after the chest. Some powerful crack-head with a misused miraculous tried to find it and open the chest for more power. But he never returned. My theory is that the miraculous is still in the temple. As long as we don't wake up the king or go for the chest, we would be okay."

"What are the guns for? And How did you get them past security?"

"In case of emergencies, an army of undead was mentioned and guns are surprisingly good repellent. Well, most of the time. It's useless if there is a no weapons can kill 'it' rule. Then, it's just a stress reliever. I kept them in a pocket dimension. Makes it easier to get around."

Damian vowed to never let Marinette meet Jason. Judging by the pile of guns and occasional knives and other weapons she took out of the brown satchel which apparently holds a pocket dimension, Jason would adopt her. He wondered if that was all that was inside in.

-------

They packed up and started searching the jungle for hidden temple.

It was a month and a half before they found it.

They bonded a lot during that time.

They had a moment after drinking a little alcohol which Mari has in the pocket dimension. Or Drank a lot of alcohol and had sex.

It was awkward and they both agree to not talk about it again.

Soon after, they found the temple. But it is still a little far away.

But the temple is not the only thing they found. They also found a campsite with many people milling around. Some of them carried guns.

Somewhat rich bastard who overheard their conversation at the gala. Heard treasure and found out where Mari's next expedition is.

Had the help of some scholar who wants to be famous for the greatest find since King Tut.

They found the temple even though they had no magical help, they left 2 weeks before Mari did, so yeah.

Rich Bastard's name is 'Philip Anderson'(This sounds familiar to me for some reason and I can't find out why.) and Scholar is 'Harry Scott'

They have armed bodyguards and some 'hired' help to get the treasure.

Anderson is still rich but his company had been getting losses the past 2 years and this is a quick, easy get rich scheme.

Mari and Damian: "Rich asshole on his high horse."

Anderson doesn't know about the chest but Mari and Damian thinks he does and it was what he was after.

They set up camp a little further ahead of Anderson's

Unfortunately, they were found by Harry. Somehow.

-----

I am going to continue this when I am more awake.

#damian x marinette #daminette #maribat #mlb x dc #treasurehunter! Mari #explorer!Mari #there isn't much of this

[axwalker]

CREEP 3: You're just like an angel

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC  (Lexie O’Brien) Book TRR

Synopsis: Drake is a hurt, angry teenager. After being rejected by Lexie, he spends two years bullying her until he discovers the horrible truth behind her rejection. 

MASTERLIST HERE

In this chapter: Lexie gets to know more about the boy hiding behind the monster. 

A/N: This is Lexie’s POV. We’ll be in Drake’s head in the following chapter. 

A/N 2: Thank you to my beautiful prereader @burnsoslow​

Your suggestions made all the difference! LOVE YOUU ❤️

A/N 3: Thank you to @mskaneko​ for the edit that closes this fic. It’s gorgeous! I love youu ❤️

Words: 5,108 🙈

WARNINGS: Parental abuse, domestic violence, toxic love, abuse, bullying. 

THIS IS NOT YOUR USUAL MARSHMALLOW DRAKE. He was abandoned as a boy, he’s tortured and he doesn’t know how to express love. 

This is a dark love story. If you think this might trigger you, PLEASE do not read it.  

ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

TAGS ON THE COMMENTS --As this is darker than usual; I’m only tagging the people who commented in the previous chapters. If you want to get on or off the list for this fic; please do not hesitate to ask!!

LEXIE

Watching Drake put my duffel bag on the back of his motorcycle, my pulse is getting out of control on my neck. This is happening. I’m leaving home. I’m getting out, and I’m never coming back. And Drake Walker, my tormentor, is helping me. He actually defended me. The fact that I’m being helped by the person who called me a future trophy wife this morning makes this moment even more surreal. He’s had this tormented expression on his face for the last half an hour that’s stupidly making me want to hug him or make him feel better. For what, though? I don’t know. I don’t owe him anything, and still, I have this pressing need to wrap my arms around his neck and tell him everything will be okay. 

When it comes to Drake, my emotions have never been truly logical. One second I hate him, and the next, I’m whispering his name in the darkness of my room, my fingers sawing against the wet cotton of my panties. My feelings for him are incredibly confusing…but I know asking him to back off was the right move. Even if I secretly miss his presence everywhere I turn. In my unstable world, there was something comforting about knowing he would always be there. Watching me. Hating me. Wanting me. That last part was never in doubt. He’s made that clear many times. That if I wanted, he would “give me a nice long hate-fuck in the back of his trailer.” And he’d always say, “No one has to know, baby,” in that deep, hoarse tone that keeps me up at night. Makes me shove my fingers down the front of my panties and struggle to breathe, sweating through my covers to an orgasm. I’m having those particularly sexual thoughts when he looks over at me, and I don’t quite manage to hide my lust. His movements slow, a dark eyebrow arching as he fixes on my mouth, my breasts. I’m a real hot mess right now. Beaten and bloody, but there’s no denying he’s still attracted. It’s always there in the rise and fall of his chest, the clicking of his jaw. The tenting of his jeans. How many times have I turned in class and—avoiding his gaze—locked eyes with his jeans instead? At least that’s one thing us poor fuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck.

 Well, if I thought sympathy was a strange emotion regarding this boy, jealousy is even more confusing. Why should I care that he’s been with other girls? Obviously, he must have been with hundreds of girls to get good at sex. It’s none of my business, is it? I’m almost rid of him. And I don’t want to be jealous. Still, when he holds out his hand to help me onto the bike, I ignore it with a raise of my chin and climb on myself. You’re almost rid of him, Lexie. Get a ride and say goodbye. Unfortunately, I may have been a little overenthusiastic in asking to be taken to a motel. I’ve never been to one, but I know a credit card is required—and I don’t have one of those. Nor do I have enough cash in my wallet for more than one night. I need to figure out an alternative plan fast. Still looking damned tortured, Drake places his helmet on my head and gently buckles the chinstrap. Swallowing loud enough to hear over the passing cars. Helmetless, he brings the engine to life, the vibration so exhilarating; I wrap my arms around his middle on reflex.

I can feel taking a deep breath. “Lexie…” He can’t see me, so I give in to the impulse to press my cheek to his leather jacket, absorbing the warmth and his smell, earthy and so masculine. 

“Yes?” Drake clears his throat, his voice even more profound. “My dad left me a cabin a few towns over. Near Portavira lake.” He pauses. “It’s very rustic, but I’ve been fixing it, so it’s clean, and it has a bed and some supplies. I could take you there. You’d be safe.” 

It’s dangerous to start accepting more favors from him, but what choice do I have? My father made sure that I’m helpless. He did it with my mother and now me. Isolated us from everyone who might be a friend. I’ll accept his offer, but only because here and now, I promise myself I’ll find a way to help myself in the future. To leave my father and his house of horrors in the past. Maybe it can’t be done entirely alone. Maybe accepting help is the only option. That doesn’t mean I’m forgetting the way he treated me. Yes, I’m attracted to him but I also hate him. He’s made my life miserable for two years and I won’t let him --or myself, forget that. Maybe he’s hiding right now but I know Drake--as my father, has a monster underneath. His monster might not slap me or make me bleed but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous. Poisonous words can hurt as much as one well-delivered blow.  

“Okay,” I say, feeling him relax. “Thanks.” I’ll accept his help for now and leave as soon as I can. 

He responds by turning on the engine of the bike again. That’s when I hear my father yelling my name from the back door of the house. His hands are tied behind his back, and he’s limping, blood coming out his nose. 

“Alexis Jade O’Brien! You get your ass back here right now, or you’ll never be allowed back! You’ll be dead to me!” 

He has to be joking; he’s been dead to me since the first time he hit me. I look back at the pathetic old man with every ounce of rebellion I have. Baring my teeth, I give him the middle finger and dismiss him. Forever. 

“Good girl,” Drake murmurs a second before driving away. I don’t look back a single time. We drive for half an hour. After twenty minutes on the highway, the trees grow denser and denser, the road deserted. We don’t pass a single car on the way to the cabin, which comforts me when I should be worried. Shouldn’t I? I can’t allow the last two years of em2otional battle to mean nothing. To melt away in the face of tonight’s act of kindness. I meant what I said. I need Drake to leave me alone. To release the hold he has on me. I’ve cut one negative force out of my life tonight. The last thing I need is a replacement. But as I grow tired against his strong back, his woody and manly scent lulling me, encouraging the trust he doesn’t deserve, I worry leaving him might be easier said than done. Especially when we arrive at the cabin, and he lifts me off the bike, cradling me to his chest like I’m made of crystal, a moment too long before settling me onto my feet. It’s hard giving up his warmth, but I push off his chest, creating distance between us. He watches me back away like I’m breaking his heart. 

“There is a shower inside,” he says quietly. “You can finally get the, uh…” He blows a breath. “…the blood off.” The sun sets as we stand there. It’s nothing like the light of the night we kissed. This time it's brighter, more intense. It must be the higher elevation. 

“You’re not hurting anywhere else?” 

“I’ll be fine.” Why is he breathing so fast? “What’s wrong, Drake?” 

“What’s wrong?” He fights through a humorless laugh, sliding his hand through his hair. “Where do I start? Most urgent is…I know you’re going to want me to leave you here alone, and I don’t think I can. Look, if you want to lock the doors, I’ll sleep outside on the ground, Lexie, but please don’t ask me to go.” 

He’s right. I was going to tell him it’s OK to go back to his trailer. There was a convenience store with a payphone a mile down the road. If there is no working phone in the cabin, I can still make calls, if necessary. I’m not sure what my next move will be, now that I’ve run away from home. But I know I’ll never be able to think with a clear head as long as Drake is around, looking at me like that. “Drake…”

 “It’s just that once I leave, I know that’s it. You’re going to shut me out again. And this time, it’ll be your choice.” He paces away, still raking his fingers through his hair. “I deserve to be cut off. Fuck, I know that. Believe me when I say I hate myself right now, but if there was something I could do to make up the last two years to you, even just a little—” 

I shake my head. Nothing can make up for the two years I spent loving him while he tortured me. There will be nothing between us. 

“I understand.” His fingers rake his hair one last time. “You can go in the cabin. I’ll sleep outside; that way, I’ll be sure your—father won’t be back.”

Despite myself and my better judgment, I worry about him. “Outside? It’s cold and dark; I can go to a motel.” At least for one night, I’ll figure out what I’ll do after tomorrow. 

“No way. Look, I won’t be able to sleep anyway. Just go inside and try to rest; I’ll be fine. I’m used to it.”

Used to what? Sleeping outside? “Isn’t there a couch or something?”

He shakes his head. “The cabin was in ruins until six months ago when I started working on it. There’s only one bed, but there’s a rug next to the fireplace. Please don’t leave. I—I need to know you’re safe.” 

I know Drake would never abuse me physically. I might be naïve, but I just know he would never do it. And as much as it’s difficult for me to understand why I feel safe with him here. Still, I have to be smart, my instincts tell me to trust him, but my instincts have been wrong about him before. 

“Does the room lock?”

“It does with a bolt that can’t be opened from outside. But you’re safe with me, Lexie. I swear.”

It’s his miserable look that makes me decide. “Okay, if it locks, I can stay here.”

We go inside, and he leads me to his room. When my bag hits the floor next to his bed, I get even more nervous. I just left everything I know behind me and have no idea what’s coming next. School will be over in a few weeks, but I can graduate earlier, thanks to my credits. I’ll need a job, save some money, get an apartment and apply for college in Cordonia. It’s overwhelming. 

I don’t want to cry in front of Drake. I don’t want to show him I feel weak, sad, and pathetic, but something inside of me suddenly breaks, and before I can’t do anything to stop it, I’m sobbing.

Drake is sitting on the bed in a second, and he’s pulling me into his lap, trying to calm me down. “Shh Lexie, it’s okay. Cry all you need to. I’m here. It’s okay,” he repeats in a litany as he rubs my shoulders, kisses my cheek, then my nose. Why do I feel so safe with him? Why, after everything he put me through, do I want to be here with him more than anywhere else? 

“Let it all out, Lex. You’re so strong, baby.” He takes a cloth handkerchief from his pocket and uses it to gently clean my tears. The piece of fabric seems so incongruous in his rough hands that I can’t help but smile a little. 

“Is this yours?”

He shrugs. “My dad collected them. After he died, my mom gave all his stuff away. This handkerchief is the only thing I have left of him. And this cabin.”

“I’m sorry, Drake. I don’t want to ruin it.”

He smiles. “Ruin it? Impossible. If anything, now it's even more special to me.” 

The softness in his eyes looks so sincere it scares the hell out of me. I can’t let myself forget who Drake really is. I stand up from his lap and put my bag on the bed. 

“I’m really tired; I’d better go to bed.” 

“Okay … can I just look at your wounds?” he asks as he inspects my face. “You have some nasty cuts,” he adds, his fist clenching. 

When I nod, he takes my hand and leads me to his bathroom. The room is as simple and modest as expected. Block walls, no tiles on the floor, no curtain on the shower, and an old toilet. A million years away from the white marble bathrooms in my house. 

He follows my gaze and blushes. “I’m sorry. This is not what you’re used to. I—uhm, I’m slowly putting it together when I have time and some money. I’m good with my hands.” I look at said hands, and there’s no doubt he’s good with them. They look big and calloused. Capable and rough but so gentle with me. I want them all around my body. As if he had listened to my silent demand, he grabs me by my waist and sits me on the counter next to the sink. My legs part on instinct, and he puts himself between them. We don’t talk for two long minutes until he opens the faucet and wets a towel. 

“I just got the water running this week; Come on.” Gently --almost reverently, he washes and cleans every cut, every injury. Softly he brushes his thumbs over my face. He doesn’t speak as he does, but there’s a tension between us. A raw feeling that has always been there. 

“Tell me about yourself,” I blurt out, desperate to break the moment. 

“There’s not much to say. Sorry, Lexie!” he exclaims when I wince. “Does this hurt?”

“A little. I. need a distraction. Why do you live alone? I know your dad is –uhm, gone, but where’s your mom?”

“Gone too.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Drake.”

“Don’t be. She was a bitch. She died in a car accident two years ago. She was living in Texas back then.”

“I don’t get it. Two years ago, you were here in Cordonia.” 

“Yeah, she left me after my dad died. Took my sister and left me here. Reminded her too much of my dad, she said.” 

I remember Jackson Walker. Everyone in Portavira does. He was Liam’s dad's bodyguard and died protecting him. But that was five years ago. If his mom left just after his passing, that means Drake has been living by himself since he’s thirteen years old. It can’t be.

Drake turns around and opens a box in the corner of the room. When he turns back, he’s holding a Band-Aid. 

“I keep these around. Construction can get nasty sometimes. Come here, Lex.” He cups my chin with one of his big hands while he cleans a cut next to my eyebrow. His touch is leaving goosebumps all over my skin. I hate to be this affected by him.  

I clear my throat to avoid the embarrassment of talking in a squeaky voice. “So, who were you living with?”

“No one. My aunt got custody when my mom left, but her husband didn’t want kids. He made her choose between him or me, so I’ve been living on my own since I’m thirteen.” My heart breaks then. Not only at the fact that he had to live by himself when he was still a child, but at the way he says it. Matter-of-factly. As if it was the most normal thing in the world that his mother, his aunt, and his uncle abandoned him. As horrible as my dad is, I’ve never had to fend for myself. And my mom loved me so much. If cancer hadn’t taken her away, she’d be here fighting for me. Drake has no one. I can’t help the tears glistening in my eyes. “Hey! Don’t cry, Lexie,” his thumb moves from my eyebrow to my cheek as he wipes the tears off my face. ”I prefer to live by myself than go to a foster house. And Leona checks on me now and then.”

“If your mom died, where’s your sister?”

He takes a deep breath but doesn’t pronounce a single word for a few minutes. Finally, he clears his throat and speaks. “Savvy was with my mom in the car. She died too.” 

I want to say something. Anything. But I can’t. Nothing seems like enough. Sorry is such an empty word—a stupid cliché. I’m horrified at my own muteness, so I do the only thing I can think of. I hug him. At first, he just stands there, his arms hanging at his sides. But soon, I can feel him giving in, his heart beating hard against my chest. He encircles his arms around me, wrapping me in the tightest hug possible. I don’t know who’s comforting whom anymore. I only know that I love being here, and I hope it’s giving him a little solace, this hug.

 It doesn’t mean I’ll forgive or even forget what he put me through, but no one deserves to go through that kind of pain alone. 

“I’ll be outside, Lexie,” he says when he finally lets me go. “If you need anything, anything at all, just call for me, okay?”

“Wait!’ I yell, so he turns around. “Are you really going to sleep on the floor?”

He shrugs. “I don’t mind. I just want to make sure you’re safe,” he hesitates as if he’s going to add something important. “Good night, Lexie.” 

“Wait,” I feel my cheeks redden just thinking about what I’m about to propose. “You can sleep here, I-I know you won’t hurt me.”

“Never,” he says, a determined look on his face. “I would never hurt you that way, and you have no idea how much I regret how I’ve treated you in the past. But I’ll be okay sleeping outside. I know you’ll feel better sleeping here by yourself.” 

I can’t deny that. I meant what I said about trusting him not to hurt me, but I can’t forget what he did either. “At least take this pillow and the blanket. I’ll manage with the pillow and the cover left.” He hesitates, so I insist. “Please. I won’t be able to sleep otherwise.”

After taking them and giving me one of the saddest smiles I’ve ever seen, he closes the door behind him and leaves me alone in the room. I lie on his bed, incapable of sleeping. The pain in his eyes when he told me about his little sister haunts me all night long. 

The following day I toss around in bed, confused and angry at myself. I can’t have feelings for Drake Walker. I can’t forget the insults or the anger in his eyes, the hurt that his words caused me every -single time. I just can’t. I hate what happened to him. I genuinely do, but iI have to think about myself. Denying that I’m attracted to him would be preposterous. Our chemistry is strong and undeniable, and it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. Maybe that’s it. Perhaps I just need one night with him, so I can move on with my life. Get him out of my system.

When I finally leave the bed, I find a note under my door: Went to buy some groceries, be back soon. DW

I go to the room where I assume he’s going to build the kitchen. For now, there’s only a more-than-a-few-years-old microwave and a cooler. I open the cabinets, but there’s barely anything there. 

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door. I feel my heart slamming in my chest; if it’s my father, I have no means of defending myself. I’m about to escape through the back door when a woman’s voice starts yelling.

“Open up, Drake. I’m not in the mood today.” 

I open the door because the voice sounds familiar. I recognize Leona, the principal’s assistant. And I know she’s related to Drake.

Leona arches an eyebrow when she sees me. “Ms. O’Brien, what on earth are you in my nephew’s cabin? Does your father even know where you are?”

“I’m 18. I don’t have to tell my father where I am.” I answer in a much bolder tone than I feel.

She shrugs, clearly uninterested. “Well, I brought this to my nephew. Tell him I want those signed by next week. We’re not going to lose thousands of euros because of some dumb nostalgia.”

She hands me a big manila folder, I take it, but she doesn’t let go. “Maybe you’re the one who can convince him.”

“Convince him about what?”

“His father Jackson left him this piece of land, but it isn’t worth a dime without cattle or money to invest in it. But, a couple of months ago a big company approached us, they wanted to build a landfill here. Drake refuses to sell. He thinks he’s going to honor his dead father by rebuilding this old piece of crap, but he will never have the money to do it.” 

“Never.” The deep voice that comes from the entrance startles us both. “This was my dad’s dream. He wanted a ranch, and one day this place will be one,” Drake says, “I told you already, Leona. I won’t sell; I don’t care how much they’re offering you to convince me.”

“I’ve never denied that they’re offering me a commission for the sale, Drake. But I still think it’s the best move for you.” Leona leaves the papers on the table, turns and leaves the cabin. 

“You love this land?” I’m genuinely curious. 

He slowly nods. “It’s all I have left of my dad. He’s the only person that ever gave two damns about me.”

“That says more about your family than about you, Drake.”

He looks directly at me. His gaze doesn’t leave mine for a long minute. I want to get closer to him, to touch him. Not only to offer some comfort but because my body reacts to him in the wildest way. Just standing next to him in the kitchen, I feel my heart beating faster, my hands trembling harder, my sex getting wetter. The response he gets from me is maddening. And it’s making me insane. There’s no freaking way in hell; I’m going to have feelings for Drake Walker.

“I- I need to take a shower. I’ll eat later.” Without giving him any time to respond, I run to the bathroom and shut the door. I open the shower and get inside, desperate for some release, anything that’ll take my mind off him. His stupid perfect smirk and deep eyes. That voice of his, intense, soft, and deep at the same time. Those big hands, calloused and capable. Hands that I just know would know precisely how to touch me. Before I realize it, I’m coming as quietly as I can. Sadly, my relief only lasts a few minutes, my body needs him --Drake Walker, and no substitute would do. 

When I come out, he’s waiting for me with a hot cup of coffee and a couple of white chocolate-strawberry muffins---my favorite kind. 

We eat in silence, but I don’t feel the weight of it as I usually do. Ours is a companionable silence. 

After breakfast, we decide to take a hike next to the lake. A bit of exercise and the lake’s breathtaking landscape might be exactly what I need to stop thinking about my father and the confusing feelings I have for Drake. 

“I think I need a job. Do you know how I can get one?” I hate that I’m so spoiled, but I’ve never lifted a finger in my life. I have no idea how I can get a job. 

“Uhm sure. Here in Portavira?”

“Actually, I was thinking of moving to Cordonia city after graduation. “Drake stops walking for a second. “It’s too late to enroll for next semester, but I can get a job and start college next year.”

He finally starts walking again and nods slowly. “What do you want to do?” 

I blush. My dreams don’t include being famous or rich. All I want is a good, quiet life. Falling in love, having a family. Doing a job I’d enjoy and traveling as much as possible -even if it’s on a low budget. “You’ll think it’s dumb.”

Drake looks at me. “I swear I won’t, Lexie. There’s nothing you can say that I’ll find dumb. It’s just not possible.”

“I love books. They offer you new worlds. They allow you to escape and be someone else for a few pages. You can never be alone when you’re reading a book. I’d love to have a job where I would be surrounded by books. Maybe become a librarian and then open a bookstore one day.”

Drake nods but doesn’t reply. I knew he would find my dream stupid.

“I know it’s not much-“

He stands in front of me and tilts my chin until our eyes meet. “It’s amazing, Lexie. I was just thinking how great you’d be at it. Remember the top 5 assignment for Mr. Daniels?”

Of course, I do. Mr. Daniels, our English teacher, asked us to make a list of our five favorite books and recommend them to the class. 

I nod. “Yeah”

“Well, I read all the books on your list. I checked them out of the school’s library and fuck, I loved them all. Especially the one from that Krakauer guy.”

“Into the Wild?”

“Yep. I really enjoyed it. The way that guy Christopher reinvented himself spoke to me.” He holds my gaze. “You’d be an awesome librarian, Lex. You would also be an amazing writer. I remember that short story you wrote for Mr. Daniel’s class. The one about the lonely girl and how she traveled through time with her mind. You have no idea how much I loved it.”

I can’t believe he remembers that story. We had that assignment more than a year ago. “I’ve always wanted to write, but my dad thinks my stories aren’t good enough.”

“Your father is a dick. Your stories are amazing.” 

He looks at me in a way that makes my knees weak. The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, so I feel it again. The connection with him. The desire. Maybe the only way this would go away is if I give in to it. 

“There is something you can do for me,” I say, surprising myself. As soon as those two words are out of my mouth, though, I know there is something I need from Drake. 

And he’s the only one who can give it to me. “Get you out of my system.” 

He stands still as a statue. “What?” 

“Get yourself out of my system.” It starts to rain, and it makes me speak louder, feel bolder and freer. “For two years, you provoked me, insulted me, stalked me, bullied me…” He makes a frantic sound, his eyes slamming shut. “And yet, I still—I still can’t stop thinking of your hands that night in my garden. How big and warm and rough they were. I can’t stop imagining you taking off my clothes. Even the ugliest things you’ve said to me, I imagine you saying them in my ear while you…while we…” 

Drake falls toward me a step, clutching the center of his chest. “Lexie—” 

“Please, get yourself out of my head. One night together. Okay, Drake? So I can get on with my life knowing fantasy was way better than reality. That I built up some unrealistic idea of what we’d be like together that we can’t possibly live up to.” My throat closes. “Get me on the road to forgetting you. Please.” As we walk, I can see the mixture of devastation and hope in his eyes. 

“And what if reality lives up to the fantasy?” 

“It won’t,” I say fast, with conviction. It couldn’t possibly live up to it. And yet I suck in a nervous breath when he crosses the divide between us, every cell in my body craving him. Fight or flight. In a matter of moments, he’s gone from wounded animal to determined predator, the rain causing his dark hair to hang low over one eye, dripping, his hands ready at his sides. 

“Are you so sure, Lexie?” 

Damn my hesitation. “Yes,” I whisper. “You’ll prove me right in one night. I can move forward without feeling like I’m leaving something behind.” 

“What if your fantasies come true tonight? Could we ever move forward as…as an us?”

 I can’t believe what he’s suggesting. “There can never be an us, Drake. Not after everything that’s happened. I’ll never change my mind about that.” I shake my head. “How can you think I would?” 

“Maybe I think if I want it hard enough, it’ll come true.” 

“It won’t,” I whisper, starting to ask myself if I’m making a mistake. Opening myself up for even more heartache and pinning for this man than I’ve already lived through. It feels like a lifetime’s worth. “One n-night.” 

“No backing out from this point on?” My heart beats urgently. 

“No backing out.” 

He’s silent so long; I’m not sure he’s going to respond. And then, all at once, he reaches me in two strides and scoops me up into his arms. I realize he’s going to bring me into the cabin, “I’ve been studying you for years, Lexie O’Brien. I’ve been hanging on to your every sigh, every expression, and mood. Years. If you don’t think I’ve obsessed weeks of my life away over how you’d like to be fucked, baby, you’re sorely mistaken.” We reach the house in a matter of minutes, and he doesn’t stop; he just keeps going until we’re in his room. And oh God, I have made a severe miscalculation. Because Drake’s showing me exactly what’s always been in my heart and mind when I thought of us together, it’s my fantasy come to life, the two of us wrapped in the arms of the other. And as he turns me, urging my legs around his waist, his ravenous mouth bearing down on mine, I realize I might never recover from this. 

#axwalker writes #tw abuse #tw toxic love #tw violence

[jazy3]

Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy: 18X01

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

I was really excited for the Premiere and I have never been so disappointed in my life. It took me a few days to write this review because I’m just so unimpressed. I feel like the only interesting parts of the Season 18 Premiere were the Meredith and Hayes FaceTime call, Levi in that outfit and Jo with that hair, and the interviews. That's it. I mean Teddy and Owen’s two weddings were interesting if you’re a Teddy and Owen shipper, but I never have been so that didn’t really do anything for me.

The pacing of the episode was super slow and it was just altogether boring. There were also just so many inconsistencies. For example, Teddy and Owen originally planned to get married at the park with just Megan, Farouk, Evelyn, Leo, and Allison which doesn’t make sense because prior to their break up they were talking about planning their dream wedding. Now they finally get married and Richard didn’t even know about it? They asked Megan to fly in, but they didn’t tell their friends at the hospital after they just all attended Maggie and Winston’s wedding two weeks earlier?

It’s also not clear if Meredith knows that they got married which is weird because she’s the main character of the show and was an integral part of Owen’s previous two weddings one of which was held at her house. Also, Amelia and Link weren’t there and it’s not clear if they even knew about the wedding which is weird because Meredith, Amelia, and Link were all present when Owen proposed to Teddy at Christmas at Meredith’s house and they are all co-parenting Leo together.

While I appreciated the shift to a lighter tone and that they chose to have this season exist in a post-COVID alternative universe where we can see the actors faces again without the PPE and return to escapism the Premiere didn't pack the punch I was expecting. The premieres are usually super shocking and action packed and this one just wasn't. It was just boring and all of the most interesting stuff happened off camera during the two weeks between the Season 17 Finale and the Season 18 Premiere which is just stupid.

I saw the priest getting hit by one of the cyclists coming a few minutes before it happened based on the promo and the context of the scene and there wasn't a big shocking event like there usually is. The pace of the Premiere really felt off to me. My friend Amy who I watch with every week described it as the pacing you usually associate with a nice stroll through a moonlit garden. Fine for episode two or three or a connecting episode but not the Premiere. I feel like they really misjudged what fans were looking for and I’m hoping that they do the work and course correct now that the Premiere has aired and the completely dismal fan reaction as come out.

One of the few bright spots for me was the introduction of Peter Gallagher as Dr. David Hamilton. I love him as an actor! He's great! His recent roles in Grace and Frankie and Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist were fantastic! I was super excited when I heard he was coming to Grey's. I like Dr. Hamilton so far and I'm interested to see how his relationship with Ellis and Meredith having dreams about her mother following her battle with COVID will play into the story this season. While it would be interesting to see Meredith work in Minnesota temporarily like Cristina did back in Season 9, I don't want her there permanently. Seattle is as much a character in the show as any of the main characters we've come to love, and something would be missing for me if she moved.

To be perfectly honest, it doesn't make much sense to me for Meredith to move to Minnesota permanently when she only knows a few people there. Who would watch her kids? If she's going to move to me, it makes more sense for her to move to Kansas where Alex is or Switzerland where Cristina is. Her kids have already lost their father and so many other caregivers and Meredith has stuck it out in Seattle for so long after everything that's happened that her moving to Minnesota for me would be bonkers.

Also, where were her kids in the Premiere? All of the interviews that came out prior to the Premiere talked about how Meredith’s focus at the beginning of the season would be on her work and her kids, but they were nowhere to be found in the Premiere and it’s not clear whose watching them while Meredith is in Minnesota. The interviews also made it seem like Meredith and Hayes would still be circling each other at the start of the season with quotes about how timing hadn’t been on their side, that they still needed to have an official drink and go out on a date, and that while Meredith wasn’t looking for a relationship one might find her.

That had literally nothing to do with the Premiere we saw whatsoever! The kids were MIA and it turned out that Meredith and Hayes started dating off screen following Maggie and Winston’s wedding and we didn’t get to see ANY of the firsts they talked about so much over the last two seasons. So stupid. The Premiere was a total rip off. I hate that Nick Marsh is back and I’ve never gone from liking a character and an actor to hating them in such a short period of time ever. My God. I’m so pissed off about this. What the hell were they thinking? Why did they think we would want this at all?

Don’t get me wrong, I loved Nick Marsh as a character and Scott Speedman's portrayal of him when he first showed up in Season 14. I was all ready for him to be Meredith's next great love and I was on board. But then he disappeared and was never heard from again and it was reported that Speedman wanted to take a break from TV for a while so I mourned the loss of what could have been and moved on. I sat through the out of character nonsense that was the DeLuca storyline in the belief that eventually that storyline would end, and Meredith would get a real proper love interest that made sense and would be her post-Derek endgame.

So, I was really excited when they introduced Hayes and I have really come to love his character and his budding relationship with Meredith. I feel like I've been waiting forever to finally see them go on a date and I am super pissed off that we didn't get to see it. I would have loved this storyline with Nick if they had introduced it at any previous point in time, but now after they've spent so much time setting up Meredith and Hayes it's just infuriating. I feel immense rage over how they handled Meredith and Hayes and Meredith and Nick’s storylines in the Premiere. I'm so angry. The whole thing just made no sense. That Premiere should never have aired. It never should have gotten past the draft stage. It was that bad. The first date and all of the firsts that come with a new relationship are the most exciting parts of a romantic storyline for me and I love seeing all of that on screen. They hyped Meredith and Hayes’ relationship up so much and even had the two of them talk about 'firsts' and dating after death so for their first date to happen off screen along with Austin's panic attacks and bad reaction to his Dad starting to date again is just such a rip off.

I have stuck with this show through thick and thin and for them to reward that loyalty by having the most interesting parts of that storyline happen off screen while showing a bunch of stuff on screen with other characters that they could have just told us about? So ridiculous. I was so excited for this season and now I'm just angry. I'm hoping that they are building to a big mid-season finale where Meredith is going to return to Seattle and by that time Bailey will have helped Hayes out with Austin and the two of them will finally get together on screen but I'm starting to feel like every time I get invested in one of the Meredith's new love interests, they pull the rug out from under me and I'm getting really fed up.

In other news, I'm not too surprised that Megan and Riggs broke up off screen only because Virgin River, which I love, just got picked up for two more seasons and I imagine Martin Henderson is busy filming that and it looks like Megan is going to be around for a while and they had to explain it somehow. I loved Meredith and Riggs together and I hated how they ended that storyline so I'm not sad about them breaking up off screen.

The Premiere also broke my heart over Amelia and Link’s storyline. It’s just so stupid. It’s drama for drama’s sake that’s all it is and it’s tired. When did marriage become so important to Link? In the span of a few months, he went from being totally fine with not getting married and checking in with Amelia every few weeks on how she felt to convincing himself that Amelia wanted him to propose so he did so at her sister's wedding and used her dead brother's children to do it. Amelia's right the whole thing was super messed up and manipulative and she was right to say no.

Link decided marriage was important to him and that fostering Luna would be totally fine without ever talking to Amelia. Yes, Amelia should have shared her thoughts with him too, but he also should have paid attention. Now their otherwise healthy relationship is over because she doesn't want to participate in an archaic ritual that involves signing a contract and exchanging vows? That's just stupid. I hope they find a way to work it out and get back together because I really like them as a couple.

I like Dr. Michelle Lin the new Head of Plastic of Surgery that Bailey and Richard are looking to hire. I thought for sure after that photo of the other guy made the rounds on social media that he was going to be the new Head of Plastics, but then he said that he doesn't do "free" and I knew he was out. I'm excited for there to be another female surgeon of colour on the show as the gender and racial balance on the show has been more white and male as of late and I think Grey's is at its best when you have a roughly equal number of women and men and as many different races being represented as possible.

I think it makes the storylines more interesting and authentic and personally gives me more characters that I can identify with. This new doctor seems driven, determined, and could have a potentially interesting dynamic with Richard and Bailey. She’s also giving me some Cristina Yang vibes and I’m all for that. I love Cristina. Always have. Always will. That being said, I'm a bit confused as to where they are going with Jo's storyline as I thought for sure the new Head of Plastics would be a guy and her new love interest. But Bailey did say they still needed to hire a new general surgeon and a new neurosurgeon so maybe one of them will be for her?

I can't really say that there was anything I loved about the Premiere which is disappointing. Jo's parenting hair dye mishap was funny, Levi's outfit cracked me up, and I liked that Bailey agreed to help Hayes out, but that's about it. The thing I was most excited for coming into this season was Meredith finally being back on her feet and seeing the romantic storyline between her and Hayes finally come to fruition.

Finding out that she's going to be in Minnesota for the foreseeable future, she and Hayes started dating off screen but had to call it quits because seeing his Dad date someone new caused Austin to have panic attacks, and finding out that Nick Marsh is back? I hated it. I don't understand how the same person who wrote the Season 16 masterpiece “Snowblind” with that amazing snow scene between Meredith and Hayes wrote the Premiere. I just don't understand. I really hope they're not going to do a love triangle with Meredith, Hayes, and Nick because that would just be so stupid.

She's a forty something award-winning surgeon who's a widowed single mother of three. Love triangles made sense when she was young intern, but at this point it's just dumb. I also didn't feel the chemistry this time around between Meredith and Nick like I did the first time. It felt forced and flat. I like Maggie and Winston together, but I didn't find their storyline in the Premiere particularly engaging. I'm glad that Amelia stayed true to herself, but I hate that Link has decided marriage is the only way forward and that they're still fighting.

The only moment that really made me laugh out of the hour was when Jo opened the door and Levi was in that ridiculous outfit. I loved the FaceTime call between Meredith and Hayes, but I hated the context. Honestly, I'm not really excited about any upcoming storyline this season which makes me really sad. I'm usually super positive and hopeful when it comes to this show, but this episode just stomped all over my dreams. All I can hope for now is that they pull a twist and everything I was hoping for happens in the mid-season finale otherwise I don't think I'm going to like this season very much.

Until next time!

#grey's anatomy #meredith grey #cormac hayes #MerHayes #jo wilson #levi schmitt #atticus lincoln #amelia shepherd #amelink #miranda bailey #richard webber #cristina yang #michelle lin #ellis grey #david hamilton #thoughts #review #18X01 #here comes the sun

[nickjunesource]

Full article below.

Max Minghella is sitting in his backyard in the LA sunshine, his t-shirt an homage to the French filmmaker Mia Hansen-Løve, his adopted shepherd mix, Rhye, excited by the approach of a package courier.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks — the dog, not me — tenderly.

Minghella, who at 35 has dozens of screen credits to his name, is best known as The Handmaid’s Tale’s cunning chauffeur Nick Blaine, a character who it’s difficult to imagine saying sweetheart. In airless Gilead, of course, a cautious hand graze with Elisabeth Moss’ June can pass for a big romantic gesture. In a Season 1 episode featuring child separation and hospital infant abduction, Nick’s major contribution is to trade stolen glances with a sex slave while “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” pumps discordantly along. I ask Minghella about playing the series’ closest approximation to a dreamy male lead against the show’s dark narrative of female subjugation.

“I know this is not the answer you want to hear,” Minghella says with none of Nick’s hesitation. “But I like that stuff, right? In the pilot, I think Nick only had a handful of lines. It wasn't clear that this is what the character would turn into. And it's quite fortunate for me personally, because I'm not a massively sort of intellectual person in my real life. I love Fifty Shades of Grey. That's like my Star Wars. It suits me to play a character like him.”

Minghella surmises that this enduring romanticism is an outcome of nurture. His father, the late British director Anthony Minghella, made grand romantic dramas like Cold Mountain and The English Patient. And there was the young, cinema-mad Max sitting on the living room sofa, absorbing everything. “It’s taken me a long time to understand this,” he says of his prolonged childhood exposure to love stories. “My dad made The English Patient when I was 10. So it was two years of watching the dailies to that movie and then watching 50 cuts of it. And then [The Talented Mr.] Ripley he made when I was 13, and it was the same thing.” These were an adolescent Max Minghella’s alternative to reruns. “I think they did shape my perspective on the world in a lot of ways, specifically The English Patient. That was a complicated love story, and I wonder sometimes how much it's affected my psychology.”

Some sons rebel; others resemble. Minghella’s co-star O-T Fagbenle, who plays June’s other lover from before the time of Gilead, got his first job acting in Anthony Minghella’s romantic crime film Breaking and Entering. “Anthony is one the kindest, most beautiful men that I've ever had the privilege of working with before,” Fagbenle says. “And Max has his gorgeous, sensitive, open-minded soul.”

Though Minghella spent his childhood on the set of The Talented Mr. Ripley, playing an uncredited Confederate soldier role in Cold Mountain, and tooling around with a Super-8 camera Matt Damon gave him, he insists his upbringing was normal. He grew up in South Hill Park overlooking Hampstead Heath in London with his father and mother, the choreographer Carolyn Choa. (Minghella also has a half-sister, Hannah Minghella, who is now a film executive.) Yes, technically, it was London, but that’s not how it seemed. “I feel like I grew up in a very small town. Every school I went to was in Hampstead. I was born in Hampstead,” Minghella says of the small map dot of his life before university. “When I went to New York, I felt I was going to the big city.”

Despite his illustrious surname, movie-watching was far from restricted to the classics. “Beverly Hills Cop is definitely the movie I remember having an unhealthy obsession with. I think I saw it when I was 5 for the first time, and I'd watch it just two or three times a day for years. I'm just obsessed with it.”

Plenty of actors can trace their love of movies back to a love of stories, but for Minghella the relationship seems to flow in reverse. When he left for Columbia University, Minghella opted to study history for its connection, through storytelling, to film. It was during the summers between his years of college that he started taking acting more seriously. Before his graduation, he’d already appeared in Syriana, starring Damon and George Clooney. Soon, he’d make a splash as Divya Narendra in The Social Network in 2010 and be cast in Clooney’s Ides of March. As all young actors eventually must, Minghella moved to Los Angeles.

It’s been over a decade since he last lived on the Heath, but, perhaps unusually for a person who’s chosen his profession, Minghella is adamantly not a “shapeshifter,” in his words. Home for Christmas this year, he started sifting through old journals stored at his mother’s house, “just like scraps of writing from when I was extremely young up through my teenage years,” before coming to America. “It was hilarious to me,” Minghella says of staring at his childhood reflection. “My review of a movie at 7 years old is pretty much what my review of a movie at 35 will be. My taste hasn't changed much. And when I sort of love something, I do tend to continue to love it.”

Which brings us back to his enduring love of romance, born of his bloodline, which is all over Minghella’s own 2018 directorial debut. Teen Spirit is a hazily lit film about a teenage girl from the Isle of Wight — the remote British island where Max’s father Anthony was born — who enters a local X-Factor-style singing competition. (It stars Minghella’s rumored girlfriend of several years, Elle Fanning.) The story is small, but its crescendos are epic.

Minghella calls the movie — an ode to the power of the pop anthem — “embarrassingly Max.” Max loves a good music-driven movie trailer — he’s watched the one for Top Gun: Maverick “many” times. And Max loves the rhythmic beats of sports movies like Friday Night Lights. Max loves movies with excesses of female energy, like Spring Breakers. He likens Teen Spirit to an experiment, his answer to the question, “Can I take all these things that I love and find a structure that can hold them?” The result is a touching “hodgepodge” of Minghella’s fascinations, inspired by the songs from another thing he loves: Robyn’s 2010 album Body Talk (itself a dance-pop meditation on love).

Minghella hasn’t directed any films since, but he sees now how making movies fits his personality — organized, impatient — more organically than starring in them does. Directing also helped him to appreciate that acting is “much harder than I was giving it credit for,” which, in turn, has made him like it more. Besides The Handmaid’s Tale currently airing on Hulu, Minghella appears in Spiral, the ninth installment in the Saw horror franchise and, from where I’m sitting, at least, a departure.

“I do like horror movies, but the thing that was really kind of magical is that I was feeling so nostalgic, right? We talked about Beverly Hills Cop earlier. I was just missing a certain kind of movie,” Minghella explains of his new role as Chris Rock’s detective partner. He was yearning for simple story-telling, like in the buddy cop movies of his youth, especially 48 Hours. It almost goes without saying that a buddy cop movie is another kind of love story. “And then I read the script and it was very much in that vein.” He clarifies: “I mean, it's also extremely Saw. It's very much a horror movie.”

His renewed excitement for acting translated onto The Handmaid’s Tale set, too. Veteran Hollywood producer Warren Littlefield describes casting Minghella in the role of Nick as an effortless choice: “Sometimes you agonize over things. [Casting Minghella] was instantly clear to me, and everyone agreed.” Now in its fourth season, the tone of the Hulu hit is graver than ever. Gilead is more desperate to maintain its rule, and so more audacious in its violence. Perhaps it’s fitting that the show’s romantic gestures finally match that scale.

In one particularly soaring moment, Elisabeth Moss’ June and Minghella’s Nick meet at the center of a bridge and crush into a long kiss. It’s been two seasons since they held their newborn daughter together, and it’s hard to see how this isn’t their last goodbye. Littlefield, like Minghella, is here for the romance among the rubble. “It's spectacular when they come together. In the middle of all of the trauma is this epic love story,” he says. “Max is just magnificent in the role.”

For Minghella, the satisfaction is more personal. He works with good people, he likes his scenes, and he thinks Nick is a complex character. Minghella read The Handmaid’s Tale for the first time in college in 2005. Like all the things Minghella has ever liked, he still likes it. He’s as proud of this most recent season as he is the show’s first. And he watched Nick and June race recklessly back to each other across the expanse of the screen exactly how you might expect. “I watched it like a fan girl.”

#max minghella #the handmaids tale #the handmaid's tale #nick blaine #nick x june #june x nick #osblaine #*