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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years

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Hey! I love your meta’s, a little while ago you talked about The Order of the Phoenix as an organization could you talk about the Death Eaters?

The post anon is referencing.

TL;DR the Order is incompetently hilarious and Dumbledore is a man who trusts no one.

Oh, the Death Eaters, what to say about the Death Eaters...

In a World Without Voldemort, They'd Probably Be Arsonists

One of the things JKR implies in the series, and something fandom seems to take for granted, is that Tom Riddle is the ultimate corrupting influence.

Were it not for him, the Wizarding World would be a much better place, and people like Bellatrix LeStrange would be productive members of society.

As soon as he is killed, even, by Harry, the good guys win, their problems all presumably solved, and Harry tells his son Albus Severus that it's totally fine if he's put into Slytherin.

I don't believe that though.

To me, it's not so much that Tom Riddle corrupted these people, but that he gave them an organized cause. The people themselves, oh, they were itching for a fight.

In a world without Tom I think they'd be a loosely, poorly organized, group (probably with Bellatrix as the ring leader) where they commit acts of domestic terrorism probably involving burning offensive shops to the ground or attacking muggleborns, halfbloods, and blood traitors.

Voldemort, to me, is designed to pander to them (and not the other way around).

The Death Eaters' Beginnings

So, first off, I think Tom's goals are not what he says they are. What he represents to his followers is exactly what they want to hear, wrapped in a grandiose theatric bow that they just love.

But how did this all start?

First, I don't believe in the Knights of Walpurgis. Instead I think Tom came relatively out of nowhere in the 70's uses parseltongue to prove his heritage as the Heir of Slytherin and thus of purer blood than any of them.

He throws these exciting rallies/parties that the rebellious, angsty, teenage heirs all go to. There he says everything they wanted to hear in the most eloquent manner they've ever heard, promises them the action that their fathers have never delivered, promises them a role in the glorious revolution and a place in history, and probably offers them mounds of cocaine.

All the Death Eaters we see, or the core of them, appear to be in this age range where they'd be in Hogwarts or just out of it when Voldemort came knocking. I can imagine they're all whipped up with excitement, YEAH LET'S BLOW UP THE MUDBLOODS and for some that's great, for others... things don't go the way they expected.

October 31, 1981: It All Falls Apart

Regulus famously steals Tom's horcrux. I imagine it wasn't so much that he learned the error of his ways but that he saw what Tom Riddle was really after: the destruction of his very society.

Lucius is riding high until October 31, 1981 and he sees the complete destruction of the entire Black family. Lucius' priorities greatly shift and as he grows older he prays Voldemort never returns. Unfortunately, Tom does, and he charges interest.

Bellatrix absolutely loses her mind, refuses to accept reality, and tries to torture the Longbottoms for information they do not possess. She is imprisoned in Azkaban and never truly recovers from this.

Snape ends up the cause of death for Lily Evans and must forever live with the guilt and be tied to her prophesied son. He also becomes Dumbledore's lackey forever, which ultimately gets him killed.

Point being, no one's having a good time. Some because they figure out being a Death Eater wasn't all it was cracked up to be, and others because they had the Voldemort rug pulled out from under their feet when Tom Riddle disappears.

Pettigrew flees and lives as the Weasley rat for nearly fifteen years.

They're left making a mad scramble as they try to pick up the pieces of their lives.

Canon Catches Up

More than ten years go by and then suddenly, in a muggle graveyard, the surviving Death Eaters discover that they are bound to Voldemort for the rest of their lives.

Death cannot stop this man and he has branded them: there's no escape.

Some are still enthusiastic supporters of the cause: Bellatrix is vindicated that her lord has returned, he rescues her from hell on earth, and everything's finally coming up Bella. Barty is similar in actively working for Voldemort's resurrection.

Lucius, meanwhile, lives in constant terror. Karkaroff desperately flees the country and hopes Tom will not find him. Snape, is in fact, Dumbledore's agent. Pettigrew only returned in utter desperation and has now cut off his own hand.

They're not the young men they were, some of them have families, to some of the past ten years have been utterly miserable. They have to watch as their children make the same damn mistakes they did, be sucked into this same hell hole, and there's nothing they can do about it.

There is a notable reluctance for the cause, and yet, they have to try with the same vigor or this madman will kill them all.

And it's all worthless anyway: come 1998, Voldemort dies again (perhaps for real this time, who knows, Harry Potter seems to think so for whatever reason) and then they are imprisoned for their acts as Death Eaters.

And they just laugh, because how badly Lucius wishes he could go back in time and tell his eighteen-year-old self, "YOU DUMB FUCK, LEAVE NOW!"

But Do They Learn Anything?

No.

Just because we see some of them regret being Death Eaters doesn't mean they regret their beliefs. Their beliefs were fine, even blowing up people here and there, a bit gauche but fine.

But maybe following Voldemort blindly was a bad idea.

Are They More Competent Than the Order?

No.

Tom Riddle is terrifyingly competent in that he infiltrates the government with ease, has spies everywhere, and all but proclaims himself minister one day and nobody blinks.

He gains the full support of most of the wizarding world's wealthiest and prestigious families.

But he doesn't actually give these people anything to do. Because there's nothing for them to do, with them, Tom's won. He owns the Wizengamot, the Ministry, everything.

There's no need to fight. It's over, there never was a war. Society is primed to accept Tom Riddle as their ruler.

However, the likes of Bellatrix LeStrange thinks there's a glorious war on, so "uh, go out and blow up a few muggles, have fun." And the young Death Eaters (and the older ones), think they've committed this great, daring, brave, and very important act.

Tom only seems to hand out real assignments when in desperate straits or else when being particularly vindictive.

Lucius, after messing up with the diary, is told to retrieve a prophecy he is not allowed to touch in a department of the ministry he should have no access to. If he fails: Tom kills his entire family. When Lucius does fail, Tom assigns his son to assassinate an already dying Dumbledore. These aren't real tasks, though they do have the appearance of one, and consequences for failure.

Barty, Tom is forced to rely on, as he is trapped in this dying infant's body. And better Barty, someone who is truly loyal and seems fairly clever, than Peter Pettigrew who is a miserable scum bag who'd sell his grandmother for a bar of soap.

Barty, of course, fucks this up. Rather than just kidnap Harry Potter at any of the many easy points this could be done (Hogsmeade trip, lure Harry out to Hogsmeade with super secret serial information about Voldemort/Snape being a Death Eater, etc.), Barty is determined to make use of the Triwizard Tournament to destroy his father's legacy.

This means rather than a few weeks, it takes months to kidnap Harry, and even then they bring along an extra boy who then gets killed and provides some evidence that Tom Riddle has in fact returned. (Somebody murdered Cedric). It takes months and Barty actively ensuring Harry makes it through the tournament and does well, leaving open the possibility that he might get caught helping Harry cheat at any moment. And of course, Barty has to pretend to be Madeye Moody for months, keeping his man locked and drugged in his trunk.

Thankfully, Moody's such a paranoid wreck, no one even notices.

Quirrell, Tom is forced to rely on. Quirrell fucks up, though admittedly not as badly as Barty. Quirrell fails to steal the stone when it's in transit/in Gringotts. He fails to murder Harry Potter, an eleven year old boy in the world's most dangerous school. He rouses Snape's suspicion almost immediately. Then of course he doesn't get the stone. He at least gets to the room with the stone and nearly overpowers Harry and gets it had he not been mysteriously lit on fire by the power of love/Lily Evans.

The only one Tom ever really relies on by choice is Snape. Snape is charged with spying on Dumbledore and later running Hogwarts (which he fucks up).

There is only one competent man in Britain: Severus Snape. Which is, of course, why he's a double agent that Dumbledore and Tom both extensively rely on despite his being a double agent.

There's no one else.

Tom Riddle doesn't make use of the Death Eaters but given they prove themselves enthusiastically incompetent at every turn I don't blame him. Just pretend to give them something to do and hope it makes them feel important.

That's all I've got in general, you want anything else you'll have to ask for something more specific.

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iwriteforthetincanman · 3 years

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Kiss Marks, Not Bruises

A/N: this is such a cute idea and I almost missed it because I posted it saying I would write it straight away but I’ve been very busy since then so I haven’t really had a chance to, but here I am now! Anyway, hope you enjoy it!

Requested by: @skellytrash

Despite snowflakes beginning to casually litter the grounds of the BPRD, you couldn’t stop the flurry growing inside of you. Worry etched into your features as you paced the garden. A pair of robins flitted past, a brief reminder of what, or rather who, you were waiting for.

“Agent Y/L/N!” Manning shouting out of a window from above you. “They’re back.” the solemn tone laced into his words did little to cease your concern.

“Oh Abe…” you muttered to yourself before charging back into the federal building at full speed. Skidding around each and every corner, you apologised to every agent you bumped into, never stopping as you rushed to the medical wing.

Upon opening the heavy doors, you gasped at what was revealed.

“...Hello love.” Abe had been stripped of his uniform, leaving him in his swimming shorts with his wonderful blue skin on full display. Only this time instead of admiring it, you couldn’t help feeling tears fill your eyes at the sight of the many bruises dotted across his body.

“Abe? ...what on earth happened?” the air around you turned chilly as you tried to keep calm.

“I’m fine Y/N. Trust me when I say it could’ve been much worse.” Abe attempted to joke, although he wasn’t aware of the full extent of your worry.

“Don’t you think I already know that! Everytime you leave on a mission that doesn’t ‘require’ me, I worry. They tell me not to since emotion links directly into my powers but how can I not? What kind of partner would that make me? Honestly, I wish you’d never get hurt at all…” You started pacing for a short while until you broke down into short, quiet sobs.

“My love, I’m sorry...I didn’t know.” Abe silently slipped off of the bed, wrapping his webbed hands around your forearms. “Please, sit with me?” His gentle invitation encouraged the small flurry building around your form to dissipate. Having powers relating to snow and ice was such a fragile business.

Most days you could be just as dangerous as Liz. Not today, today you just felt...shaky.

“You only didn’t know because I refused to tell you...apparently keeping secrets and freezing people out of my life are the only two things I’m good at.” You replied bitterly. Abe chuckled to himself at that.

“And I know, better than anyone, that that is nowhere near true. Y/N...you are wonderful. You take such good care of me and all those around you. Before I met you...I didn’t know I was capable of loving another person so...much.” It was rare to see someone as eloquent as Abe, struggling with his words.

“I didn’t know anyone even wanted to try loving me...I was all alone in those mountains. I was so surprised to see anyone up there. Let alone you and the others.” Thinking back on the day that the BPRD had found you upon a desolate mountain, they were surprised you hadn’t froze to death. But the legends were true, people were scared to travel up those mountains because they believed a witch had laid a curse on it. Anyone who dared to travel up those icy paths would never return...and if they did, they would never be the same.

Those legends were only half true. You had travelled up those mountains nearly half your life when you were a young girl. One day, you went up there and discovered an old woman, struggling to move. Thinking the worst, you took her back to your village and nursed her back to health. When the woman awoke she thanked you for your kindness, yet when she discovered you were all alone in the cottage she asked where your parents were. Telling her your parents had died and that you were an orphan hadn’t bothered you as much as it did her.

So, when she told you she was a witch, you weren’t surprised either. She offered to train you since you were ‘pure of heart’. But as you grew older and the witch’s grip on reality loosened, you realised, pretty soon, she was going to be leaving you all alone again. After that, you ventured into the mountains, hoping to never be seen again. Shooing away anyone who came close. Tempting yourself with friendship was something you couldn’t bear...not anymore.

That was until you saw him...your Abe. His appearance didn’t phase you at first, but he was freezing to death so you calmed down your flurry. The last thing you wanted to do was kill a literal fish out of water. Once he saw you, he thought he was dead. Claiming aloud that you were an angel, you couldn’t help letting out a little giggle, discouraging his claim.

Hellboy almost knocked you out after he saw what happened, he almost jumped the gun, thinking you were about to murder one of his closest friends. When in reality, you were just helping him up and out of the snow.

Keeping calm whilst falling in love with Abe surprised you. The emotions stirring within you set off a few more alarming new powers, but nothing you couldn’t easily cover up. Being in love brought out the best of you, little did you know, Abe was under your spell almost as much as you were under his.

Which is probably why it hurt so much more to see him like this. Love brought so many wonderful things along with it, but loving someone who got hurt on almost a regular basis felt like someone was stabbing at your own heart.

“Y/N...I’ve lived a long time and I’ve never loved anyone the same way I love you.” Abe’s sincerity brought tears of pure happiness to your eyes, even if your heart was still hurting. Wanting to show him that same amount of love, you began with pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

Watching the skin under your lips turn a light purple, you grinned at his blush. Pulling away, you bit your lip at the sight of the lipstick mark. It was a light pink, despite the powers you possessed you always tried to contradict them with a more summery attire.

Preferring the way it looked upon Abe’s skin, you began to decorate many different spots with the same mark. Hearing a giggle bubble up in his throat, you hummed at his reaction to your affection. Usually you were the one who would melt under his. But today you had been so worried and you weren’t going to waste another moment.

Little did you know Hellboy was walking towards the medical wing with a bunch of files Manning had gifted him. He needed help and of course, the first person he was gonna ask was his best buddy Abe.

“Hey Abe, old pal could you help-” after opening the door, Hellboy discovered a flustered Abe covered in lipstick marks with you sat next to him with an innocent look rendered useless by your smudged lips.

“...I’ll come back later.” HB chuckled to himself, closing the door.

#abe sapien x reader #abe sapien #doug jones abe sapien #dark horse comics hellboy #dark horse comics #dark horse comics abe sapien #hellboy fanfic #hellboy fanfiction #Hellboy II: The Golden Army #hellboy 2 the golden army #hellboy 2004 #hellboy 2008 #doug jones x reader #iwriteforthetincanman writes #hellboy writings #Abraham Sapien #abraham sapien x reader #abe x reader #abraham x reader

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white-queen-lacus · 3 years

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Frederica and Homura as potential love interests?

Ok, before writing this post, I must admit that this thought has been wandering in my mind for some time and I will do my best to be as analytical as I can in the explanation. First of all, I've truly and wholeheartedly supported Shinkane since season 1 and I am sure that before or after, they will be endgame (in Psycho Pass' meaning, well... offscreen if we're lucky enough), so this post is just an attempt to see what is happening.

Let's make a premise: PP3, among all the seasons of PP, is the one that addressed romance in a more evident way, somehow. Not that it is a priority and it's fair as it is, since the focus of the series is basically human nature and its reaction to a world dominated by AI, but among the three seasons, PP3 caressed the topic. Not that it wasn't already addressed in the previous installments (Shion and Yayoi, Kaori's wedding, Akane's growing fascination, and not-so-well-hidden attraction and love for Kougami, Mika and her schoolmate, just to say), but starting with Sinners of the System, something else happened. Masaoka and Sae, Sugo and his friend's wife (tell me whatever, but he seemed to care a little bit too much and I found something similar in Arata's behavior towards Maiko)... and in season 3, the already mentioned Arata, both with Maiko (the hospital scene) and Karina, but also with Irie and Mao (I loved the whole music box scene) and Mao *not-so-well-hidden* fancying Kei. Did I mention the brief and glorious Shinkane's scenes? The cherry blossoms in First Inspector screamed "LOVE" in caps lock.

Well, ladies first, so let's talk about the mysterious and glamorous agent of the SAD: Hanashiro Frederica. When her character was revealed, all of us (or at least, the majority) thought that she could be a potential threat or a possible enemy. So far, it seems that apart from bigger fanservice than all the girls in PP, a still-secret agenda, and the fact that she managed to recruit Kougami, Gino and Sugo in her team (as well as granting them some privileges), there isn't any evidence that she could be an enemy. Yes, the whole Ministry of Foreign Affairs/SAD goals and mission aren't clear, that's why I hope we might get PP4 or a dedicated special, in order to understand more about them and her apparently personal motivations too. Now... thanks to the lovely @kumapillow who kindly translated the SAD extra chapter, something made me wonder. I already said in another post that Frederica seems to have a soft spot for Kougami. Just a few words about Kougami. So far, with the exception of the novels, where his feelings are clearer, he's never shown particular interest in women (or relationships in general). In the profiling book, it's said that he doesn't remember his first love, but it's also said that he would let Sybil choose for him once the time comes, until the movie updated version when it's said that his favorite type of girl is a companion who can keep up a conversation. Considering that in season 1 he was revenge-driven and Makishima-absorbed, romance was practically out of question (also, if we consider that he's been a workaholic since he was an Inspector, I'm not this impressed if he never had a proper relationship). Complete silence in season 2, then in the movies he said that wherever he goes, he's punctually involved in some conflict, aka... no time for romance again (for ghost!Makishima's joy). I read sometimes that the fact that he declined Shion's advances in episode 18 with the sentence "I don't think we are each others' type" was eloquent about his sexuality, since he probably is gay or bi, at least. I don't think he is, but simply, being the kind person he is, Kougami just found a colloquial way to remember Shion where her heart truly laid (and in the novel, it's more obvious). No surprise, during the fight against Rutaganda, when the mercenary said that listening to Kougami made him happy like he was listening to some Wagner's piéce, Kougami promptly answers that he could have rather listened to those words from a glamorous beauty than from him (he used the word "bijin" there). I won't mention all the Shinkane subtle of the movie, but it was truly obvious how things had changed for Akane and Kougami and what could have been happened if the mercenaries hadn't come. Case 3 shows that his relationship with the fair sex still hasn't progressed this much... though I LOVED Kougami's interactions with Tenzing and the teasing of the little girl who said that he reminded her of her dad (ok, that's progress, since in a radio drama both he and Gino made a small child crying because of their idiocy) and I headcanon that in the years past Case 3 Kou had some chances to hear back from Tenzing (because of MoFA and Frederica's care), when it comes to the blonde colleague... I guess that things haven't changed this much. Now, so far, Kougami has NEVER shown any sign of reciprocating Frederica's possible feelings, but it seems that he's the only one who knows how to cheer her up or to understand her. Coming back to Frederica, after this digression, that's the core: she technically has all the qualities Kougami would possibly need. She's a glamorous beauty (hello there, reference to the gekijouban). She's a companion who could keep up a conversation. This point is trickier, because the conversation under the moonlight (now that it comes to my mind, it was also said that if he ever had to set a date, he would probably talk about work or taking somebody to stargaze), which largely reminds me of his conversation with Akane in the movie (I'm talking about the structure of the scene in general), shows that

Frederica too is perfectly able to lecture Kougami and pull the shits out of him about his true motives for keeping on traveling, she's been interested in him since the lessons with professor Saiga, but also... the fact that she mentioned his mother, I think was some kind of a rehash of the novel version of the conversation between Akane and Kou. I was under the impression that Ubukata and Shiotani were trying to test the waters... Also, Frederica is a skilled fighter, she has a no-nonsense attitude and she's pretty harsh in what she says, but she's also friendly, humorous, and caring (the days they spent together with Tenzing). Then the renowned scene of the two of them making the deal... ok, I need to admit that in the beginning, I didn't see it as malicious, neither I do it now, but... mhhh... sharing the same bottle of water to make a deal... well... kinda intimate, right? Not that Kougami made a fuss, but Frederica was... pleased? After all, she didn't do any of this with Sugo (also, her approach to him was more formal) and we still don't know how she recruited Gino (I think it happened because of Kougami, after Akane's demotion)... I don't know, but it seems to me that her approach toward Kougami (at least in Case 3 and in the manga extras) is more personal... after all, when she approached him the first time, she was quite intrigued, since she wanted to take a look at the face of a celebrity like him (all said while pleasantly smiling). The extra chapter shows that while Gino and Sugo's efforts to help their chief were wasted (not for us who read), only Kougami's proposal was well received by her. Shooting like in a guerrilla field... after all, Frederica is a tough one (just like Akane) and Kougami knows it very well... like Gino adds at the end, she's definitely a female version of him, but she also is somebody able to kick Kou's glorious ass (just like Akane). Now, time will say where the truth is, but I feel like that if Ubukata and Shiotani keep on following the route "there's a deep respect and a bond which goes beyond love and romance between Shinkane... and also Kougami doesn't see Akane in that way", and instead they choose to spice things up (but I don't think so) Frederica might be the one chosen. Luckily enough, our dear former Enforcer seems to have chosen the celibate warrior monk route, but I'm still sure that things can change and in the end, the most natural outcome will be Shinkane. Well... since the post has become longer than I expected, I'll write another time of Shizuka and Akane, but thanks for reading until now!

#psycho pass #psycho-pass #psycho pass 3 #psycho pass sinners of the system #sinners of the system #characters relationships analysis #kougami shinya #hanashiro frederica #tsunemori akane #shinkane #does a frederica-kougami ship exist?#I can't write fregami because in Italian has a certain mean XDDDD

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i-watch-too-many-movies · 3 years

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5 Favorite First Viewings of July 2021

Quick note: Hi everyone, I'm back, things have honestly been getting better for me, and I'm glad to be on this site full of cinephiles, people that are too horny, and cinephiles that are too horny. I'll be more active on here. But anyway, let's talk about some movies.

Beyond the Valley of the Dolls (1970) (dir. Russ Meyer)

CW: Abortion mention

What a picture. What a gorgeous, sexy, horrifying slice of what Hollywood and star life can do to a bunch of bright-eyed young people looking for success. Also is a critique of how macho nature can ruin friendships and romantic relationships with total ease. I was obsessed with the scene transitions, like Pet pouring pancake mix onto a plate after the abortion scene, or Kelly singing after someone screams before their murder in the opening scene.

Great, campy flick with exceptional music too.

Deep Cover (1992) (dir. Bill Duke)

Laurence Fishburne plays Russell Stevens, a Cincinnati police officer who hopes to do well by the community, to make a difference. He’s traumatized by the death of his substance-abusing father, and wants to make sure that he can help the people of his own town. He goes undercover on assignment as a drug dealer, where his boss orders him to take down the kingpin. Stevens realizes the police’s own failings while on assignment. The racist abuse he takes from Agent Carver, and the realization that the police department is protecting drug kingpins like Gallegos and Barbossa. Giving drugs to Black kids and Latinx kids so there will be less of them. The cops are no different than the drug kingpins looking to make filthy amounts of money.

Fishburne’s performance is excellent, as Stevens feels he has to maintain a stone face so he doesn’t get caught by Jason or Barbossa or any of his cronies, but also he maintains a stone face to try and hide his emotion, his trauma. But when he gets pissed, Fishburne acts it beautifully, as is when he has to deliver a funny quip to counter Jason’s douchebaggery. And the production design, holy fuck, the sets and the lighting.

A perfect neo-noir for the HW Bush years, arguably one of the most timeless commentaries on the era, as well as the police as a whole.

Fast Five (2011) (dir. Justin Lin)

I was torn between including this or Furious 7, but I ultimately went with Fast Five because it felt like an important turning point in the series, it's a great heist film, and it reached the same chaotic highs and genuinely excellent filmmaking that I had been waiting for since 2 Fast and Tokyo Drift.

Fast Five opens where Fast & 4ious left off. Dom is hauled away to prison on a bus. Mia and Brian drive in their high-tech cars and knock the bus over, helping Dom escape. The title drops. Fast Five. It’s such an intense yet short action scene, and dropping the title immediately after it lets the viewer know that this movie is not fucking around. It’s arguably gonna be more intense and insane than the previous one.

And it is. The filmmakers made the decision to use a lot more practical stunt work for the film, and as a result, it leads to, so far, the best action in the entire series, since 2 Fast and Tokyo Drift. It’s not just how it’s shot or edited, it’s the geography of the locations, the rooftop chase echoes the rooftop chase of Jackie Chan’s masterwork Police Story, particularly the way each character bounces from top to top.

And of course, there’s the silliest moment in the movie, the one that matches the intensity and kineticism of a film like 2 Fast, which is driving the Reyes’ bank vault throughout the street, getting chased by corrupt cops.

I know we make fun of Vin Diesel for saying “family” all the time in these films, but there’s a reason we remember him saying all of these impassioned monologues. Because he’s unbelievably sincere, and has so much love in his heart for every single person in the room. Anytime he delivers a speech to any of them, it’s genuinely heartwarming.

This is the film that finally shows La Familia in their best environment, which is working together, in a movie genre that allows them to work together, which is a heist film. And a great one at that.

Last Days (2005) (dir. Gus Van Sant)

CW: Mention of suicide

Several films have been made about legendary rock artist Kurt Cobain, and for good reason. He is one of the most tragic figures in rock and roll. A tortured genius who has written and performed classic song after classic song with his band Nirvana. He was called the voice of a generation, and helped change the face of mainstream alternative rock music as we know it. But with that fame, and all of those expectations came a worsening depression and further drug abuse, and his eventual death. But most of the films about Kurt Cobain ask one question which gets under my skin way too much:

“Who REEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLY killed Kurt Cobain?”

It was him. He did. And it’s okay, I’m sad too. Thinking that Kurt Cobain was murdered is completely ignoring the depression that he faced. And despite Last Days being more inspired by the death of Cobain rather than actually about it, it feels much more honest than the conspiracy documentaries on his death, wanting to leech off of his dead body.

This is the last installment of Gus Van Sant’s “Death Trilogy”, the previous two installments being Gerry (2001), and Elephant (2003). While I have not seen Gerry, I have seen Elephant though, and love that film for its minimalist, raw nature, and its boldness for not romanticizing the school shooter or the lives they had taken. Last Days falls into that trap once, as I don’t agree with the shot of Blake’s soul climbing up a ladder, that always struck me as cheesy in a film that is anything but.

Last Days is similar to Elephant in terms of the way it is filmed. Its usage of long takes, and still shots of characters doing various things, such as Blake playing his guitar behind a drum set. The way these moments are shot is similar to a Chantal Akerman film, particularly Jeanne Dielman. Where the acts of the mundane are the stars of the film. Blake wanders around an empty house, and the viewer can feel the pain, not just through Michael Pitt’s acting, but from the house itself. Its decay, its paint peeling from the walls, from the soft glow of the lamp that lights his face.

I say this is the most honest film about Kurt Cobain, because, despite the characters technically being fictional (the main character who looks, walks, and acts like Cobain is named Blake), this film focuses on the mental state of a person before they eventually take their own life. They’re still working, still making music, still trying to talk to friends and bandmates, but the depression lingers on. Not once does this film try to make you believe that someone else killed him, because you can see the signs of his own suicide taking place just through the film’s excellent cinematography by Harris Savides, showing his mental state only growing worse through the production design.

And it’s empathetic with him. There’s no judgement for leaving rehab, there’s no finger-wagging at him or the people he was with, there’s just a silent prayer at the end of the film, hoping that he is in a better place than he was.

Sometimes you don’t need to show every event that led you to where you are, all you can show is the moment, which also makes this better than most biopics as well, as it never feels messy or muddled, just showing one moment of Blake/Kurt’s life.

I really loved this film, and I’ll be writing about it in full soon.

The Village (2004) (dir. M. Night Shyamalan)

The Cracked.com/Channel Awesome audience stuck in 2012 will tell you that this was the beginning of the end for Shyamalan. That this was when people stopped taking him seriously, that this was when he became more of a punchline because of his twist endings.

But why?

The Village was released in 2004, deep in the Bush administration, during the early stages of the Iraq War. The leaders of the time were talking about imaginary boogeymen, terrorists that would attack the civilians if they could. Because of 9/11, politicians could get away with these false ideas with the majority of Americans fully believing them. The boogeymen in The Village are “The People We Don’t Speak Of”, monsters attracted by the color red. Yet we find out that they are all costumes made by the Elders of the land, designed to prevent people from going outside the land. They rule by fear disguised as love. They’ve gone through their own traumas through the deaths of their family members, but they’ve decided to completely abandon the lives that they’ve had and have their children living lies.

9/11 impacted American life by teaching citizens to live primarily by fear, to not trust anyone but their own people. And yet, post-9/11, all that increased was not “coming together”, but hate crimes against South Asian people. The rage white Americans had felt led to conservative politicians pushing fear-mongering agendas, and said white Americans blindly accepted. The outside world was progressing, but too many people were fine with living with further conservative politics only regressing American life further and further back, all for the illusion of safety. Meanwhile, the only threats to them were not the brown citizens outside of America they were so afraid of, but the white elders, the white politicians.

The Village explores these fears so eloquently, all while having a terrifying atmosphere, an enchanting score, and brilliant sound design. I enjoyed this movie very much.

Other viewings I enjoyed:

Beavis and Butt-Head Do America (1996) (dir. Mike Judge) (re-watch)

Blow Out (1981) (dir. Brian de Palma) (re-watch)

Clueless (1995) (dir. Amy Heckerling) (re-watch)

Furious 7 (2015) (dir. James Wan)

The Long Goodbye (1973) (dir. Robert Altman)

Lupin III: The First (2019) (dir. Takashi Yamazaki)

Unbreakable (2000) (dir. M. Night Shyamalan) (re-watch)

Velvet Goldmine (1998) (dir. Todd Haynes)

The Visit (2015) (dir. M. Night Shyamalan)

#favorite first watches #these movies are (chef's kiss)#beyond the valley of the dolls #russ meyer #deep cover #bill duke #fast five #justin lin #last days #gus van sant #the village #m night shyamalan

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dontcare77ghj · 4 years

Text

Clones

Bucky x reader x Loki

Non-reader POV

The team had seen a lot of things in their time together. Nothing really surprised anyone anymore.

"How's it going, Nat?" Bucky asked as he decked a HYDRA soldier in the head.

"Easy pickings," Natasha said with a smirk. "Even without Tony's tech, it's like taking candy from a baby."

"Marvelous, can we hurry this along then?" Loki asked as he stabbed an agent in the torso. "James and I have plans."

"So sorry, your highness, are we interrupting your date time dealing with these assholes?" Tony asked sarcastically through the coms.

"Yes, you are," Loki said as he and Bucky finished off the soldiers.

"Hallway secured," Bucky announced to the others. "We're going to check for additional files or information."

"Be careful." Steve encouraged the two.

"Dine in or out tonight, James?" Loki asked as they began to check rooms.

"Let's dine-in," Bucky said, shutting a door. "We can lock down the floor and ignore everyone else."

"I like the way you think, Sargent." Loki grinned.

"You two do know that everyone can hear you, right?" Tony groaned.

"Of course. Jealous?" Loki asked the billionaire.

"Holy shit," Natasha said, cutting in on the arguing men.

"Tasha, what's wrong?" Clint quickly asked. "Tash."

"HYDRA cloned a person," Natasha announced.

"What?"

"Twenty-seven years ago, HYDRA teamed up with a group called Dyad. Together they created a hundred clones." Natasha explained.

"Are there any in the facility?" Steve asked her.

"It says here only one survived the experiment and the further experiments since," Natasha said. "They're still in the facility somewhere."

"Are they dangerous?" Steve questioned.

"It doesn't say," Natasha informed him.

"Bucky, Loki, the two of you need to be on guard," Steve ordered the two. "We don't know what HYDRA has created."

"A girl, Steve," Bucky said. "They created a girl."

All the while, Natasha had been explaining what she had found, Loki and Bucky had still been checking rooms. The rooms down the hall were all almost identical, containing a single bed, toilet, and sink.

All except for one.

Loki had opened the door at the end of the hallway to reveal a single woman inside.

At the sound of the door opening, the woman's head snapped up, and she rushed into the corner.

"Hey, it's okay. We're not going to hurt you." Bucky said, lowering his gun quickly.

The woman didn't respond as she pushed herself further into the corner. Bucky turned away when he realized the woman was nude.

"Darling, it's okay. He's not lying, we're not here to hurt you." Loki said, creeping forward slowly. Loki kept his hands in front of him as he kneeled in front of her. "My name is Loki, and that is James." He introduced, unclipping his cape and holding it out to her. "It's quite cold in here. Take it." He said, offering the cloak to her.

The woman stared at him for several seconds before reaching a shaking hand out and gently taking the cloak.

"Thank you." The woman whispered as she wrapped the material around herself tautly.

"Of course." Loki smiled gently. "Do you have a name you could give us?"

The woman shifted the cloak to reveal 324a23 branded onto her collar bone.

"Is there anything else we could call you?" Bucky asked, standing behind Loki.

"Freak. It. Bitch." The woman supplied as she tightened the cloak around herself again. Both men felt their hearts ache for the woman in front of them.

"Doll, how would you like to leave?" Bucky asked, resting his hand on Loki's shoulder. At the suggestion, the woman began to shake her head aggressively as she pushed herself as far into the corner as she could.

"I knew this was too good to be true." She muttered before looking up with wide eyes. "I wasn't thinking about it, I swear! I wasn't going to. Please, I learnt my lesson last time."

"Darling, darling, breathe," Loki said, putting his hand on Bucky's and squeezing it. "We're not going to hurt you, I swear. We're not HYDRA."

"We're the good guys," Bucky added. "We want to help you, get you out of here, and away from the people who'd hurt you. You'd be safe. They could never touch you again."

"They'd find me." She whispered, shaking her head. "I belong to them."

"You don't belong to anyone." Loki denied her.

"I don't?" She asked, tilting her head in confusion.

"You don't." Bucky nodded. "Allow us to help you. Come with us." He said, extending his hand towards her.

The woman looked between Bucky and Loki for many minutes, staring each down. It was only after intently looking at both men did the woman reach her hand towards Buckys.

"It's a good thing we all keep spare clothes on the jet." Bucky attempted a joke as Loki wrapped an arm around the woman's shoulders.

The team had brought the woman back to the Tower. Bucky and Loki had led her back to the medbay where Bruce began to check her over.

"She's asleep," Bruce said as the three exited her room.

"What's the prognosis, doc?" Tony asked, pushing off the wall.

"We have a woman who has clearly been abused for most of her life," Bruce said, not mincing words. "There doesn't appear to be anything broken, but she is covered in bruises and scars."

"I can't believe she's a clone." Tony sighed.

"Are you able to get a sample of her DNA? See just what's been done?" Steve asked.

"Analyse that sentence, Steve." Natasha cut in. "She's been abused and experimented on for her entire life, and you want to stick more needles in her? After we promised her, she'd be safe with us?"

"I didn't mean it like that." Steve defended himself. "I just meant that I doubt they told her what they did to her. It could be a comfort to her if we could tell her."

"Steve, we're going to have a talk about emotional sensitivity later." Bucky sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"We're not going to do that," Bruce said, placating those around him. "When she wakes up, we'll see if she answers our questions, but I won't push her."

"She shouldn't wake up alone," Natasha said. "She might panic. One of us should sit with her."

"Brother, you or James should volunteer," Thor spoke up. "The two of you found her, and she seems to trust you."

"An eloquent idea, Thor." Loki agreed.

"We'll both sit with her." Bucky nodded. "We'll let you know when she wakes up."

The woman had been asleep for two hours. Bucky and Loki had taken up their post at her bedside, quietly talking to each other.

The two were conversing about trivial things in their lives when the woman lurched upright.

"Easy, darling," Loki said soothingly. "You're okay. You're safe." He added after the woman snapped her head towards him.

"Where am I?" She croaked, coughing at the discomfort in her throat.

"Here," Bucky said, passing her a glass of water. "It's safe," Bucky told her, noticing her hesitance.

"You didn't answer my question." The woman pointed out after gulping down half the glass.

"We're in the medical bay of the Avengers Tower. We're in New York, and you're safe." Bucky promised her.

"JARVIS, will you please alert Doctor Banner that our patient is awake?" Loki asked.

"Doctor?" The woman wearily questioned.

"A friend," Loki confirmed. "Strictly just to make sure you're well." He assured her.

The woman nodded at the God's words before leaning back deeply into the bed.

"I didn't know beds could feel this comfortable." She sighed happily.

"And to think I was just about to apologize for the bedding." Bucky smiled at her.

"If you find a bed softer than this, I'm never going to leave it." The woman warned him as Bruce entered.

"Hello, I'm Bruce. Bruce Banner." Bruce introduced himself, standing by the door.

"324a23." The woman replied, not noticing the men wince slightly.

"How are you feeling?" Bruce asked her, walking to stand at the end of the bed. "Fine." She responded, almost mechanically.

"Darling, it's okay to tell Bruce if you're hurt," Loki said. "He only wants to help you."

"My chest." She murmured, not looking at the doctor.

"We ran a scan on you when you arrived, and it did conclude you have several bruised ribs. Unfortunately, I can't do much to help, but I can offer you some pain medication."

"They don't work." The woman informed him. "I burn them off too quickly."

"That's okay. We have plenty of people here who do the same thing. I could get some of the ones we created for you." Bruce offered.

"That would be very kind, thank you." She said, still not looking at the doctor. "Of course," Bruce said, fetching the medication he and Tony had created. "I'll only give you one, for now, just in case it's too strong."

The woman swallowed the medication without water, and then Bruce nodded at Bucky and Loki.

"Doll," Bucky started. "We have to ask you what happened to you there. What they did to you."

"You don't have to tell us now. You can tell us whenever you're comfortable." Loki added as she tensed.

"But you'll still need me to talk about it." She shook her head. "I don't know all the finer details." She sighed.

"Do you understand what you are?" Bruce asked delicately.

"That I'm a clone? I grew up with a ninety-nine other girls who looked exactly like me. Even if I wasn't told, it wouldn't be hard to figure out." She chuckled without humor. "What do you need to know?" She sniffed.

"We need to know what they did to you and the other girls," Bruce informed her.

"My sisters. What they did to my sisters and me." The woman corrected him. "It was a lot of testing. When we were younger, it was standardized testing. There were tests for agility, IQ, endurance, things like that," The woman began, her voice growing distant. "But then it changed."

"Take all the time you need." Bruce encouraged her.

"My sisters started getting sick. They started dying." She said after a minute. "The men didn't know what was happening to them, but seventy of my sisters died by eight. After that, all the men seemed to be in a panic. Tests were more frequent, and the types of testing changed."

"What did they do, doll?" Bucky asked gently.

"Wanted to see how much we could endure." She responded, eyes glazing over. "Electrocution, drowning, waterboarding. Locked us in boxes to see how long until we broke. They broke 321a24's mind, and we all watched as they shot her in the head. They checked how fast we healed, physically and mentally, and they tested if we were still sterile. They designed us to be sterile, they didn't need to keep testing." She murmured, wiping away her eyes at the tears that threatened to fall.

"Did any of your sisters survive?" Bruce asked. "Could any of them have gotten out and not said anything?"

"If they did, they would still be dead. We belong to HYDRA. I watched my sisters all die, I'm the last of us, no question." The woman told him. "I'm tired. Can I go back to sleep, please?"

"Of course." Bruce nodded. "If you need anything, JARVIS will alert us." He said as she rolled onto her side, facing away from the three.

The three men exited her room to find the rest of the team waiting outside.

"Well, fuck." Tony said after a moment of silence.

The woman had been in the Tower for almost three months. Bruce, with help from Loki and Bucky, had convinced the woman to speak to a psychologist.

Slowly, people began to notice little changes in the woman. She rarely jumped when people entered her room, the frequency in which she disassociated decreased, and those who visited had witnessed the woman genuinely relax and appear happy.

"Knock, knock, darling," Loki said, standing in the doorway with Bucky behind him.

The two had grown protective of the woman when she arrived. Sitting in the room with her, attempting to coax her out of her shell. The three had become quite close during her time in the Tower.

"Hungry?" Bucky asked, shaking a takeaway bag in his hands.

"Starved." She nodded, putting her book to the side.

"What are you reading?" Loki questioned, taking the book in hand as they sat at her bedside. "Baby names?" He rose a brow.

"It's from Tony." She blushed. "He says I need a real name."

"Ah. Any luck?" Bucky asked, handing her her food.

"None." She sighed. "Who knew choosing a name could be so hard?"

"Millions of parents all around the world are sympathizing with you right now," Loki said, opening his lunch.

"You included?" Bucky teased, receiving an elbow to the ribs in return.

"Hush now."

"I wonder what my mother would have named me." The woman murmured, looking down at the food in her lap.

"What do you mean, doll?"

"They surrogated all one hundred of us. I've always wondered what she wanted for me." The woman admitted.

"We could see if Natasha found anything on her. Maybe she's still out there." Bucky suggested.

"I think any of the surrogates are long dead." She reasoned. "It's just a nice thought sometimes. I think we all had it at one point." She chuckled sadly.

"You miss them," Bucky said. "Your sisters."

"Yeah. A little strange, I suppose all things considering." She said.

"No. It's not strange. Not at all." Loki shook his head.

"He's right. I understand what it's like to miss family. It's perfectly natural." Bucky assured her.

"Thank you." The woman whispered, taking Bucky's hand in her own and squeezing it tightly.

"Of course, doll."

Reader POV "Are your eyes closed?" Loki asked once more.

"Bucky has his hands over my eyes, and you're the God of lies, you should know I'm not lying." You laughed, holding onto Bucky's wrists.

"I'm just checking."

You had been rescued from your prison four months ago. Freedom was a dream you and your sisters would wistfully imagine when you were younger, and now you had it.

Bucky and Loki had been heaven-sent. The two had been the ones to take you from your cell, had been beside you when you woke, and had helped you adjust to living free.

You had grown close to a handful of the Tower's inhabitants, Natasha, Thor, Tony, to name a few, but none of those bonds came close to the one you had with Bucky and Loki.

"Are we almost at whatever surprise you have?" You asked. "My nerves are building the longer we keep walking."

"We're almost there. And I promise you're going to like this surprise." Bucky promised you.

"Alright, are you ready?" Loki asked as the three of you stopped.

"As ready as I can be." You told him. Bucky removed his hands, and you took a second to adjust to the sudden brightness. "Where are we?" You asked, looking around the large room. "Is this your room?"

"No. It's yours." Bucky answered, standing beside Loki.

“All this, is mine?” You asked, gaping at the room around you.

“And more.” Loki smirked. “Ready for the grand tour?” He asked, extending an arm to you.

You laughed breathlessly as you took Loki’s arm in yours. He and Bucky showed you around what was now your space, your home.

“And last, but not least,” Bucky started, hand on the handle of the last door. “Your new bedroom.” He said, opening the door.

“Wanda helped decorate it, but if you don’t like it we can help you change it.” Loki said, watching you take it all in.

“Doll, are you alright?” Bucky asked as you began to cry silently.

“Thank you.” You sobbed, crushing into Bucky. Bucky froze momentarily before wrapping his arms around you. “Thank you both so much.”

“You don’t have to thank us for anything.” Bucky told you.

“You’ve shown me more kindness than anyone has ever shown me. And you didn’t have to, shouldn’t have to. I’m not human, and I’m not like other people. I’m damaged, and-” You began to ramble only to freeze in place when Bucky pressed a finger to your lips.

“You never have to thank us for helping you.” Bucky said firmly.

“You deserve all the kindness we can give. And more.” Loki added, coming to stand behind you.

“Can I kiss you?” Bucky asked you.

“But, Loki, you and Loki,” You trailed off unsure.

“Loki and I have been talking. We’ve both fallen for you. If you don’t feel the same, we won’t push. We can still remain friends.” Bucky told you.

“But if you want this, want us, we will keep you safe as long as you want us. We’ll love you, for as long as you allow us to.” Loki said.

“So, can I kiss you?” Bucky repeated.

Slowly, you nodded at him and he leaned down to kiss you. The kiss was sweet, gentle, different to what you expected.

When Bucky pulled away, Loki gently turned you towards him. He gazed at you inquisitively and when you nodded your consent he too kissed you.

“Will you allow us to take you on a date, darling?” Loki asked after he pulled away.

“Y/N.” You whispered.

“Pardon?”

“My name. It’s Y/N.” You smiled.

“Will you allow us to take you on a date, Y/N?” Loki asked you with a grin.

“Yes. I would love to.”

Taglist is always open, as are requests.

Taglist

@rvgrsbrns @smilexcaptainx @hopingforbarnes @starlingelliot @piper-koko-barnes-rogers @jelly-fishy-babie @skeletoresinthebasement @agent-barnes40 @reann-loves-sebstan @skadikh @summergeezburr @buckybarton03 @sunshinepower17 @bindythedemon @natasharomanoffismywife @keenmarvellover @bbybarness @storiesbystarlight @buckybarnesplumwhore @bromieeeomieee @marvelmenarebeautiful

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #Loki Laufeyson #loki x reader #loki layfeyson x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #Winter Solider #winter soldier x reader #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers x fem!reader #bucky x loki #bucky x reader x loki

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plus-size-reader · 4 years

Text

Ice Breaker

Spencer Reid x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1017 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Attending a violent crime convention and finding yourself drawn to the most socially awkward male you’d ever seen

——————————————————————————————————

Violent crime had always been one of your favorite things and conventions with the opportunity to hear stories from crime writers and federal agents was too good to pass up.

Though, you did always forget the convenient fact that you had never been good in close quarters. The convention was being held in a wide open conference room that was packed to the brim with people by the time you got there.

...And that complicated things.

You weren’t one to mingle and often got tongue tied at the very idea of working through something like that. However, you were too invested in this to leave now.

So, you did the only thing you knew to do and chose to stand against the wall, watching the keynote speaker stumble through a list of different philias. It was clear that most of the audience didn’t care but you found something interesting about it.

Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that you saw something familiar in him. He seemed just as uncomfortable in this situation as you did, but what really got to you was his eloquence.

You could tell that, no matter how uncomfortable he was, this speaker, introduced as Dr.Spencer Reid, really cared about what he did. He was obvious that he was clever, and it wouldn’t have surprised you if he had an I.Q above 130.

It was something you were pretty good at catching wind of straight away, as you had a lot of experience with several people of the same in your history. You had always been drawn to him and that was never going to change.

...But there was something different about Dr.Reid, as it stood.

For the first time in either of your lives, Spencer caught sight of you in the crowd and found himself completely fixated on you almost immediately.

He knew that he had to talk to you, and figure out your story but he also knew that was going to be extremely difficult. He had little experience with women in the romantic sense, and even in a friendship sort of capacity.

There was no telling how a conversation with you would go down but he knew that was inconsequential. So much so, in fact, that he found himself standing in front of you before he could even think about it.

Though, he didn’t just speak to you right off the bat. Instead, he chose to stand beside you for a little bit while Rossi wrapped up the final panel discussion. The event was far from over, but he couldn’t just come out with it.

Spencer had always had to warm up to things like this.

“You do these kinds of things often?” you wondered, taking all the pressure off Reid at the same time as you applied a different kind of pressure to the situation.

In breaking the ice first, you opened a line of communication that he would have struggled to do on his own but you had also pulled him into a socially sanctioned conversation that had to be worked in the right way.

He couldn’t just talk as he pleased, rambling like a lunatic surely wouldn’t impress you and he did have a tendency to do that when he was nervous.

...And if there was one thing Spencer already knew about you, it was that you made him incredibly nervous.

“Not usually, I’m typically not invited. I’m not much of a people person” he shrugged, knowing that, at least, was the truth. Usually when a lot of people were going to be involved, the team chose to leave Spencer at home.

It just wasn’t his scene.

“I understand. I’m the same way” you allowed, adjusting your bag strap that was hanging off your shoulder. Spencer attributed it to either a nervous tick or the weight of the bag, but he noticed it in any case.

What he noticed next though was the sudden silence in the room around you.

There was no literal silence of course, but that wasn’t what Spencer cared about. What was strange to him was the simple fact that wherever he was, he was always engulfed in sound.

A man like Spencer was very perceptive and because of that, his mind remained constantly swarmed with the words of every single person he’d ever been around. However, when he looked at you, that all changed.

Standing in front of you now, Spencer had only eyes and ears for what you were saying, and every little detail of your behavior. Even the smallest actions from you seemed to light up his senses.

“Would you like to get some lunch with me?”

As per the pattern where you were concerned, the words left Spencer’s lips before he had a chance to think about it.

Though, neither of you seemed all that upset about it.

“You know what Dr.Reid, I think that I would” you smiled, rummaging through your bag casually to retrieve a small notebook and a pen, from the side pocket. You could see Spencer watching you with a curious sort of look on his face but you didn’t bother to explain yourself.

Instead, you wrote your number on the slip of paper and handed it to him. “Just for later” you explained, knowing that there was probably plenty of time to get your number to him.

Really, you just wanted to make a point that you wanted him to have it.

“Alrighty, we can go now” you grinned, watching him tuck the slip of paper away in his blazer pocket before allowing a small smile to slide onto his own face, following your lead.

The event wouldn’t wrap up for an hour or so, plenty of time to get a sandwich and a coffee at the cafe down the street. At the very least, it would be long enough to decide if you wanted to meet up again or not.

There was clearly something between the two of you, and you owed it to yourselves to investigate further, just as discussed in the violent crimes discussion prior.

#spencer reid #Criminal Minds #cm #spencer reid x ps reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x plus size reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x ps reader #criminal minds x plus size reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #cm x ps reader #cm x plus size reader #cm x reader #cm imagine

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yyparkq · 4 years

Text

meraki

([may-rah-kee] GREEK

(n.) to do something with your soul. Creativity, or love; to put something of yourself into your work)

word count: 8,706

pairing: jaebeom x reader

a/n: part of got7 alive fest on twitter. you may also view this on ao3! :)

“Can I buy you a drink?” you offered enthusiastically as you slide beside the man who doesn’t pay any attention to the girl on his other side. The woman glared at your boldness and stomped away when her subject instantly tilted his head to your direction. Trying to hide your own thumping heart, you smiled at his incredulous expression.

After living as a hermit for a few years and squeezing all the creative juices out of your brains onto literary masterpieces, you finally decide to venture out again to your old world. When asked for a recommendation, your agent/best friend didn’t miss a beat telling you about the upcoming party being thrown by your common friends in college—an unusual bachelor party and bridal shower in one. Hearing all the possible details from her made it sound twice more interesting and fun. Before you even knew it, you were nodding your head in excitement and confirming your attendance at the upcoming event. The timing was perfect. You had your scheduled flight earlier on the day of the party, so you could go straight there. The thought of finally seeing your college friends after five years excited you, but above all, you were yearning to see one specific person you dearly missed—Lim Jaebeom.

You had been studying his profile—one you’d recognize anywhere—ever since you entered the party. It’s almost as if he never changed except for his seemingly wider shoulders and longer hair. You smiled at the thought of him still being so fond of casually donning the most basic clothes that otherwise fit the occasion. That, and yet he still managed to pull it off and stand out from the rest of the crowd. Like how he’s wearing a crisp white button-down shirt and slacks that looked way too stiff for a guy to wear at a party. His now long hair slightly unkempt and falling on one side of his cheek.

To say he was surprised is a huge understatement. The last thing he could have expected from Mark’s party is the presence of a woman who dropped him like a hot potato without a single word five years ago, now materializing in front of him and striking up a conversation as if it was yesterday. A tinge of betrayal crept into him as he realized his best friend didn’t bother giving him a heads up about your attendance. He could have prepared a more controlled reaction than a pair of wide eyes and mouth agape with astonishment. Pulling himself together, he looked back at you with a more reserved gaze.

Unconsciously, you bit your lip and broke the eye contact, feeling your cheeks warm but thankful for the dimness of the place at the same time. You never expected his gaze to still have the same overwhelming effect on you even after almost a decade of knowing him.

You cut the eye contact and turned your attention to the bartender in front of you instead, requesting for your usual drink to keep from further making a fool of yourself in front of Jaebeom.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to try that phrase at least once,” you laughed after the bartender slides you your glass. “That was bad, wasn’t it?”

Jaebeom clicked his tongue and took a sip from the half-empty glass in his hand. His sheer annoyance was evident in the way he twisted his wrist and set down the glass abruptly on the counter. As if trying to say something, he looked at you and opened his mouth but was cut short when your friend Wheein screamed your name on the top of her lungs and made her way to your seat.

“Mark is looking for you!” she shouted after putting an arm on your shoulders in an attempt to sweep you to the direction where she came from. You rolled your eyes at her and stood firm in your seat, refusing to be dragged by her strong arms. She tilted her head in question before looking over to the guy seated beside you and instantly grasped the situation. “Oh,” she gasped softly when she recognized Jaebeom. “Look for Mark after you’re done here, he’s in one of the tables at the corner, making out with his bride. Seriously, doesn’t this completely defy the very reason for bachelor’s parties and bridal showers?” she added to which you only answer with a sarcastic smile and a nod. She looked back at the guy beside you and winked before disappearing back into the sea of dancing people.

Despite the blaring music at the party, you and Jaebeom sat in complete silence. Neither of you attempted to start an empty conversation. The situation reminded you of one of the hundred things you used to like about being with him—for you, words and silence both held equal meaning. Though, sometimes words can betray someone twice more than a short silence can.

Growing up, you witness your parents spend most of their downtime doing their individual hobbies while still being together at the same time. Your mom solving her crossword puzzles while your dad watches his favorite crime and murder documentaries on cable tv. The comfortable silence between them has always been a pleasant memory and has been an important factor in most of your relationships.

A walking paradox. That’s what you are. For someone who believes in the power of silence, you also find comfort in expressing yourself through words. Your eloquence never dimmed as you grew up. The delicious combination of you being able to speak your heart out and listen attentively to the other party at the same time built a character that everybody around you loved to be with.

As an only child of a wealthy family, you grew up getting all the love and attention you needed from your humble parents. You were a vivacious child who was ready to face everything and chase her own dreams, thanks to your family who would always tell you to go after whatever made you happy. And even if it turned out to be something that wasn’t for you in the end, at least you wouldn’t have to spend the rest of your life wondering how things could have been if only you tried when you had the chance to. So when you first laid your eyes on an unfamiliar guy sitting in one of your elective classes in college, you knew you were in for a long ride.

Jaebeom’s presence always demanded attention no matter which room he was in. When he sat in front of you for the first time in one of your boring classes after spring break, you are quick to notice the curious stares and discreet glances from your own classmates. Recognizing the possibility of the competition being high, you wasted no time trying to get to know him and introduced yourself right after your class ended.

“Ah, the attentive girl,” he said when you followed him to the hallway and made your existence be known to him.

You smiled brightly, glad that your efforts in answering the professor’s questions correctly during class left a good first impression on him. He offered you a small smile, one that hardly reached his eyes but still made your heart flutter for the very first time. You were expecting to learn his name in exchange but instead, he only walked past you.

At the party, Jaebeom briefly glanced at the approaching guy behind you and sighed.

“This is nuts! Y/N, you really are here! I thought Wheein was just fucking around when she said she brought your ass to our party!” Mark exclaimed, wrapping you in an enormous embrace and ruffling your hair in the process. “Where the hell have you been to? We didn’t hear a single word from you since college. Are you married yet?”

Your eyes rolled at his accusing tone and giggled, briefly glancing back at Jaebeom who was also waiting for your response. “I’m not answering that, Tuan.”

Mark slapped the other guy’s back and whispered something in his ear which he responded with a creased forehead and confused eyes back. Mark laughed and turned his attention to you, showing you the way to the bigger table where everyone else from your common circle had gathered. One last look at Jaebeom’s unamused expression and you let the former guy lead your body, unaware of the latter trailing behind you to join the table.

Five long years you spent living away from your family and friends, justifying the need importance of exercising your independence and trying to hone your skills and interests by taking a literary degree overseas. At some point, you did want to pursue a career in writing. It was your childhood dream, after all. But it wasn’t the only reason you endured half a decade away from the closest people of your life and stepped out of your comfort zone. The moment you decided you wanted to start again, you knew the main reason is to run away from the guy who repeatedly broke your heart. And now that you’re back, you are determined to show a different version of yourself to everyone. One that is no longer naive when it comes to love and to life. You’re fairly confident you’re more than ready to play your part in this new beginning.

Some say we don’t get to choose who we love, but you beg to differ. When you’re stubborn and you love to prove people wrong, it doesn’t come as a surprise when you have chosen to give your all to Lim Jaebeom the moment you laid your eyes on him. Chasing someone for years in this time and day should qualify for modern martyrdom. Jaebeom is one tough nut to crack especially when romantic relationships and commitments don’t exist in his world. That much is known to you but you did not give up, relentlessly bugging him every time you got a chance just to be together—even if it meant only hanging out as good friends. You were vocal with your intentions and your actions spoke so much to your words. Guys wanted to be Lim Jaebeom in a way a girl, as deemed perfect as you are, was always by his side supporting him in his endeavors.

All of your friends used to excessively warn you about Jaebeom being a bad idea, but you must have been blinded by your love that you failed to recognize the red flags that practically waved at you before.

How Jaebeom was able to turn you down twice could be considered a mystery unsolved for everyone, even for his own self. There is no doubt about your intelligence, you’re highly responsible and driven, you’re empathetic and humble and the majority loves to be around you. On top of that, your beauty fits the current societal standards that you don’t even have to try hard. Everyone sees no reason for any man to reject you except that you could be close to an epitome of perfection, setting the bar far too high for anyone.

Mark’s table was filled with laughter and yells from your friends when you reached it. Most of his guests were from the wealthiest families who have been specializing in throwing parties since college. Fortunately, the majority of your closest circle of friends managed to group themselves for that night when you joined them. Stories and questions about the time you spent away from everyone else rained on you. How you spent the last five years—stories about your campus life, your travels, the one of a kind experiences you had—were mostly shared that night. Somehow, Jaebeom was thankful for Mark’s presence for he knew he wouldn’t be able to hear so much from you if you were left alone with him.

Jaebeom and Mark took pride in your highly improved alcohol tolerance. Both expected you slurring on your words after a couple of cocktail drinks like you used to in college but there you were, looking as sober as you could as you briefly played poker with the other guests and even after downing innumerable glasses of cocktails and beers in the last four hours at the party.

Somehow you managed to genuinely enjoy the time at the party, playing games, dancing, and laughing with your friends, all the while thinking about the fact that Jaebeom had been talking to a girl he’s involved himself with—the last straw from five years ago. It would have been a lie if you said you never played all the possible scenarios in your head to prepare yourself when you once again meet the two people who have caused you your heartache before.

It took Jaebeom a couple more hours before mustering the courage to actually strike a conversation with you. Just when you were about to call it a night and head back home did he find himself quicker on his heels. All you wanted at that moment was to go home, plop yourself into your bed, and sleep the night away—exhaustion finally dawning into you.

It almost drove him crazy when he realized that you almost left again that night without bidding him goodbye. He hated how you made it look so easy to leave him every time.

You stopped dead in your tracks after hearing Jaebeom shout your name.

He rushed to you and gently reached out for your arm, his cheeks and nose were burning and you’re not sure if it’s because of the liquor or the crisp night air of the nearing autumn season. “Y/N. Let’s talk,” he said.

The corners of your mouth slightly twitched upwards after clearly hearing his voice for the first time that night.

A talk would’ve been a nice idea if your mind was not so clouded with the thoughts and memories with him right now. You already promised yourself to not give in to his ill intentions. You could only hope to make sound and logical judgments for yourself this time especially when he seems to know so well when and how to talk you out to serve his best interest.

You opened your mouth for a second before shaking your head and looking briefly at the ground. “I can’t—I can’t talk, Jae,” you sighed, feeling the night air nip on your bare skin. “Not right now. I’m exhausted. Maybe next time?” you whispered weakly and your forehead creased when you felt a ringing inside your head. Why did you even think a night of partying after a five-hour flight was a good idea?

Jaebeom stared at you for a good minute and noticed your utter discomfort unrelated to his presence “Then just let me drive you home. You look like you’ll pass out any second from now.”

Even after all the years that passed, he’s still able to look right through you and read you like an open book—one that had bothered you the most before and the very reason that kept you from coming back. You knew you wouldn’t be fooling anyone if you said you’re over him, and yet you’re in this situation.

You could have just called Wheein to drop you off your apartment. But your head started getting heavy and the thought of heading back to the party to fetch her didn’t sound like a good idea; you’re certain she wouldn’t be able to check her phone right away if you call her.

As if reading your mind, he proceeded to tug on your arm and guide you to his car. “I’ll tell Mark to send your car tomorrow.”

You muttered a quick thanks and typed your new apartment’s address to his car’s navigation before helplessly falling asleep during the ride.

Jaebeom stared at your face for a while after parking in front of your building. He wanted so much to hold you close to him and feel your body against him again but he knew better than to chase you away for the second time. It had been so long since he saw you this close. And though he spent a number of times visiting you incognito, he couldn’t help but feel a much stronger sense of regret for all the things that he has done to hurt you.

The clicking sound of your seatbelts being unfastened pulled you from the slumber. Jaebeom’s face was inches away from yours and you had to push him away due to shock. The brief nap you had made you feel so much better, your head feeling much lighter.

“Thanks for the ride,” you muttered sheepishly and immediately turned to open your side of the door to get off his car.

He stayed inside his car until he saw you made your way up into the elevator and remained seated in the dark for at least half an hour more before leaving the building.

Maybe hate is not the opposite of love, but indifference. Even in both spectrums, you couldn’t quite put a finger where you stood in your relationship with Lim Jaebeom. He’s like an opaque glass, extremely unpredictable and distant. There might have been times when you thought he’s finally letting his guard down and you inside his invisible shell, but now you’re not sure if or any of those times were even real. Despite being erratic, you stayed by his side, continuously cheering him on with his major life decisions as an unwanted friend and supporter.

It was your last semester break in college—one that didn’t really look like a break since graduation requirements were starting to pile up in addition to your internships and remaining academic classes—when Jaebeom stopped explicitly flirting with girls and started to constantly hang around you. He had a knack of fooling other people to believe he liked them more than he truly did, and you were in no way an exception in one of his schemes then. He made you feel you were important to him, made you think that he actually loved you and you never dared question it for once, finally seeing the end of your own chase.

Your friends thought he was finally coming to his senses and was getting ready to establish a serious relationship with you. Despite your conflicting schedules, every night he’d wait for your shift and classes to end to simply grab dinner together and then drive you back home. Even after he dropped you off, he’d call you’ll talk about the most random things over the phone until you both fell asleep. On his lunch breaks, he’d occasionally text you the lamest jokes he’s learned. His efforts never failed to make you smile.

But his sweet gestures lasted only for almost half a year. Right when you’ve finally garnered the courage to formalize taking your relationship to the next level, he had decided to put a stop to the little game he thought was going on between you. You didn’t mind having to lead the relationship with him at all. Putting a label on your relationship seemed like the last step in accomplishing your goal, considering all your efforts in trying to make him fall in love with you. But the end doesn’t always justify the means. One thing you have learned the hard way. Relationships are supposed to be two-way. Both parties need to practice give and take. And throughout the course of loving Jaebeom, you failed to realize how you’ve excessively poured yourself to him that you almost left little to nothing for yourself.

After finding out that he had slept with one of your closest friends, the only thing you could think of was to run away. Away from everyone even for a short period of time. That was the last straw. If he happened to sleep around before showing you his gentle and caring side and promising you a future with him, you could easily will yourself to not get hurt. But how could he go around sleeping with another girl when he made it clear to you that he wanted you to stay in his life?

Desperate for an escape, you negotiated with your father to buy yourself time to heal and move on. When he gave you his blessing to move across the country and spend some time alone for a couple of years, you took it as an opportunity to run away.

With your love for literature, you decided to pursue a degree related to it. You spent most of your time traveling, looking for inspiration to start your piece. You traveled across countries, visiting the most romantic places on earth alone, casually reminiscing the relationship you had with Jaebeom and thinking of all the other possibilities that could have happened if only you knew better than to chase a guy away. If there was one thing you could be grateful for the most, despite your situation, it’s having a chance to prepare yourself to write your very first book. You’ve always pictured yourself publishing a novel in the science fiction/fantasy category. A couple of unfinished novels sat on your computer since high school, somehow you couldn’t find the will to finish any of them and end each story. Little did you know the first one you will author close to actual completion is inspired by your own encounter with the love of your life. You planned for an open-ended story, wanting to finish the novel but not brave enough to put an absolute end to the story yet.

Finally, it was time for you to keep your end of the bargain with your father. You needed to come back to assume a position in your family business. You thought five years was enough to get over Lim Jaebeom, but then it seemed as if you were always wrong when it comes to him.

Your new office was luxurious. It had an enormous space elegantly decorated with black and gold pieces of furniture and minimalist ornaments. The floor to ceiling glass windows was overlooking the bustling city and gave you a stunning view of the sunset. The secretary assigned to help you with your new role in the company looked a few years younger than you but was always quick to pick things up and anticipate your needs, which is exactly what you need for.

The idea of working with your family members never really pleased you, but you couldn’t go back on your word, not when your father had been constantly at your disposal, attending to most of your whims your whole life. You didn’t want to disappoint him in any way. With your attitude towards work, it had been easy for you to focus on the upcoming big projects you will soon be supervising for the company. You almost became the first and the last person to leave the building sooner than everybody expected. You didn’t mind spending hours of meeting with the board or the investors, presenting the most innovative projects.

A bouquet of flowers, which you paid almost no attention to, sat on the far end of your desk. You were rarely the kind of person who appreciated such notions until you noticed a small note—congratulating you on your first day—before going out of your office to attend a meeting. There was no implication of who the sender was but you already have an idea.

Every single day in the next two weeks, different kinds of flowers greeted you in the office. You had to tell your secretary to get rid of every single one of it after plucking out each note and stashing it in one of your desk drawers. At one point, your secretary asked if you’d rather have the lobby not accept the deliveries to save you both the effort in getting rid of it but you refused, not entirely sure why.

It’s Saturday morning but you decided to go to your office much earlier than you usually do, wanting to go over some reports that had bugged you all night. The sun had barely risen when you arrived, a steaming cup of coffee on your hand. You gripped the hot drink tightly when you noticed Jaebeom’s tall frame inside your office. Sometimes it just makes you question the security of the place, really.

“Ah, I find it easier to get rid of flowers than of a human,” you spat. “What are you doing here?”

Jaebeom turned around to watch your guarded expression as you circled around your desk and settled in your chair. He wondered how come you have changed so much. “You never spoke to me after that night.”

You scoffed. Did he really think you were back in the city to continue chasing a man? “I don’t think there’s anything we need to talk about, Mr. Lim,” you smiled tightly and briefly remembered yourself instigating a talk after Mark’s party. “Besides, you’re not the reason I came back.”

Jaebeom closed the distance between you two. “You’ve changed. A lot.”

You wanted to scream at his face but you knew better than to openly show your feelings around him again. Trying your best to act nonchalant, you tilted your head to the side. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. It’s easier for you to assume that I have because this is not the Y/N you used to mess around with, right?” you said with a smile and stood up, planning to open the door and kick him out of your office. “I really hope you did change too, Beomie.”

It only took Jaebeom a couple of strides to stop you midstep. He turned you to face him and dipped his head slightly, lifting your chin in one swift motion to briefly press his lips on yours. His other hand lightly grazed your cheek. It was a light peck on the lips but it felt and tasted exactly how he did years ago. How you managed to preserve such memories of him surprised you.

You were stunned. Stunned by the fact that he kissed you ever so gently like you were a fragile little thing.

He paused and looked at you and you couldn’t stand another moment so close to him without his lips on yours. Soon, you started returning his kisses until you were both gasping for air. Just like that, the last five years you spent trying to move on from Jaebeom went down the drain.

“I fucking missed you,” he whispered and lightly kissed the sides of your mouth, arms circling around your waist. “So much.”

You tried so hard to not push him away as soon as those words left his mouth. For years you craved hearing it from him but why now? You were ready to go on with your life. Tears started to prick at the corner of your eyes. You never wanted to admit it to yourself but you missed him, too, dearly.

Only when you replied with nothing but a complete silence did Jaebeom stop his ministrations and took a good look at you. The conflict going on in your head evident on your face and he blanched.

“You selfish prick,” you muttered, blinking away the moisture in your eyes. “I don’t want to play your games anymore. I already spent number of years hating myself because of you. Please don’t make me feel that way again.”

Jaebeom pulled you in for a proper hug and shook his head lightly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he cooed. “Let me make this right, please?” he begged. “Let’s have dinner later. I’ll pick you up, okay?” he searched your eyes for approval but you shook your head and peeled yourself away from him.

Fuck dinner.

The moment Jaebeom vanished from your office, you freely let your tears fall. All the walls you’d built around yourself for years came crumbling down all with just a fucking kiss. You let yourself weep for a few more minutes before pulling yourself together again and trying your best to focus on your work. It’s a good thing that all that happened on a Saturday morning when you barely had an employee around to see you on your most vulnerable state. After a few hours, you couldn’t seem to properly do what you intended to do that day so you just brought the papers you’re supposed to review, hoping you could finally take a look with a clear mind by the time you reach your apartment.

It was around 7 P.M. when your doorbell rang. Jaebeom’s face flashed on the little screen of your doorbell intercom. Did he take your response earlier as an approval to take you to a fucking dinner?

There is no way you will be going out with him again. And yet Jaebeom stood silently at the other side of the door for almost two hours. He couldn’t forget how soft you could get for other people—even for a cruel man like himself who didn’t deserve you. And you? How could you forget how stubborn he could be when he wants something?

You dressed in a simple white shirt and pants and put on a light coat before exiting your apartment. Jaebeom’s eyes lit up at the sound of the doors unlocking. He smiled despite you pulling an annoyed expression on him. You briefly argued about bringing your own cars to the diner. Insisting you should share a ride to the restaurant, Jaebeom ended up in your passenger seat.

The dinner went unexpectedly smooth and you appreciated how he tried to make the mood light. You started talking like old friends over dinner, reminiscing some of the most memorable experiences you shared from years ago yet careful to not touch sensitive topics that would otherwise ruin the evening.

The night ended with him insisting to drive back. He knew how you used to hate driving when it was dark due to your bad eyesight back in college. Though you already underwent LASIK surgery and found no problem driving now, somehow the unpleasant memory was still at the back of your mind whenever you got behind the wheel at night so you opted not to protest.

The short drive to your apartment had been filled with comfortable silence except for Jaebeom’s occasional snide remarks directed to other drivers on the road.

It was a spur of the moment decision when you invited him to your home for a cup of tea—something you used to both enjoy after a long day.

You knew very well where this was going but you didn’t care, too tired to worry about things that hadn’t happened yet. Once again you wanted to just yield with fate.

The first night with Jaebeom after five awfully long years was spent snuggling close to each other while watching a movie. The old Jaebeom you knew wouldn’t have stayed for the night unless you begged him to, but now it seemed the tables had completely turned as he practically begged you to allow him to stay with you, promising he’d keep his hands to himself.

“What’s the point of staying here, then?” you teased him.

He blushed at your words and muttered something inaudible before you both settled comfortably under your sheets, the movie playing in the background as you felt each other’s warm body.

Every weekday after work, you would grab dinner together—in restaurants, takeouts, sometimes you alternate making home-cooked meals. Weekends were spent still hanging out together. He’d often invite himself over your house and show up at your doorstep uninvited. Soon he learned your passcode but never really used it to let himself inside until you tried to ignore his calls and refuse to open the door for him.

He was like a piece of gum that’s hard to get rid of and you’d be lying if you said you had no idea what’s coming.

Jaebeom and you both silently came to the conclusion of not wasting time playing stupid games anymore. Five years worth of time had just been wasted and you didn’t have the luxury of time chasing each other around instead of actually making up for the time that you lost.

Your current setup extended for two more months and you were starting to think that your history repeated itself. The situation felt all too familiar—constant hanging out, occasional making out sessions, endless arguments, and banter over the smallest of things. One thing that has changed though is how Jaebeom had become undeniably soft for you each time. He smiled and joked a lot around you and showered you with physical affection more every time he got the chance. At the back of your mind, you were thinking of the possibility of him doing all these little cute things just to get into your pants, but seeing him not even try his hardest to get it on with you makes you doubt yourself for even thinking about it. He could have jumped into bed with you and used your body for all he wanted but he never did, always asking for your consent even for a mere kiss on the lips every time. The way he would pause less than an inch away from your face before kissing you or the way he would hold you loose so you can easily get out of his grasp whenever he held you.

Wheein gave up trying to help you open your eyes and avoid making the same mistakes after the first month you constantly spent with Jaebeom. She knew you too well to try and waste energy to convince you that you were just gonna end up hurting yourself more this time. That and the fact that she hadn’t seen you this euphoric for the longest time. All she can do now was hope that your man was not stupid enough to let you go again.

The last two months had gone so smoothly. And you know sooner or later you would have to actually talk like real adults in a relationship. So far, Jaebeom still hadn’t made any move in identifying what kind of relationship you were having and you were afraid that you would fall more deeply in love with a guy who hadn’t changed one bit for you.

The following weekend, Jaebeom invited you over to his place. He entered an expensive neighborhood on the outskirts of town and pulled up to an elegant-looking residence. It had stunning glass walls and warm lights that illuminated the vicinity of the house.

You bit back your tongue to stop yourself from asking incredulous questions. You wanted so bad to ask him if he’s married. There’s no way he’s living in that house alone and without a family.

He opened your door and led you inside the house. It smelled so much of fresh sandalwood like his old apartment. You looked around the house and smiled at the grand piano that sat in the living room. You’d always pictured your kids with him taking after his musical talents.

You flinched when Jaebeom hugged you from behind. Instantly blushing at your own playful thoughts of building a family with him.

He chuckled and lightly took your hand, entwining your fingers together before grazing his lips against it. “Are you thinking about it?”

Your brows knit together. “About what?”

“The piano at your parents’ house?” he smiled. “We almost did it.”

Your eyes shut at the memory of making out with Jaebeom at one of the parties your cousin threw in your house. That was the first time you kissed Jaebeom and since then you never had enough of him. You took a deep breath and tried to focus on your agenda for tonight. You had to make sure you cleared things up between you two before cruising towards yet another possible road to heartbreak.

Sighing, you turned around and marched away from him but stopped when you saw the dinner he had prepared. He led you to the table and pulled out a chair for you. Your heart is throbbing so loud, you were worried he might be able to hear it.

“Jae—”

Before you could even begin, he shushed you. “I know what you’re trying to say. We can talk about it later. Let’s eat first. Please?”

Did he know, really? Maybe he did but he just didn’t care. It’s not that impossible. Maybe he did not change at all. He was still the selfish bastard who only knew how to take from you and never gave even the smallest piece of himself in return.

You couldn’t stand to let the questions live in your mind rent-free. It should be now or never. If he were to say he didn’t want a relationship, then so be it. You weren’t looking for another reason to cry, you’ve had enough of that. I’m ready, you told yourself inside your head. Ready to face the worst again tonight.

“No. We have to talk about this now. Otherwise, we’ll go around in circles again. And I’m tired, Jaebeom.” It took you a great amount of willpower to display a straight face in front of him. “I don’t want to be with you anymore. The last few months have been great but that’s it. That’s all we could ever be. I don’t want to go any further.”

You’re a terrible liar.

“You say I’m selfish. And I know very well the game you are playing.” He reached for your hands but you stepped away. “But you can’t win, Y/N,” he said, confident in his own words. “Because you already want me. And you don’t stop chasing what you want until you get your hands on it.”

Maybe he was right. You were terrified thinking he did not change after all these years and yet you never realized you took little to no step in changing yourself when it came to him.

You shook your head, tears attempting to escape the corner of your eyes.

“I don’t want to be hurt again,” your voice trembled. “Every second I spend with you, I’m on my toes. Ready to protect myself from being hurt again. But—but right now, I want to make an exception. I will let myself be hurt again if it means I will finally be able to completely let you go.

“Please tell me you never really loved me. I might have been in love but I wasn’t that stupid. I swear we were almost there. I believed it. I believed every time. And yet you made it look so easy to turn your back at me. For years I have questioned my worth to be treated like that. Was I not enough?”

Jaebeom’s cheeks flushed. His eyes are burning.

“I wasn’t ready for you to leave me then!” he shouted as he walked away from you and collapsed onto the couch, his hands roughly brushing his face in an attempt to clear his thoughts. “Everyone I love does,” a short silence and then he got up again. “I didn’t want you to leave me then or now,” he whispered quietly.

You laughed and stood in front of him. “So you slept around after telling me you want me to stay in your life? You thought that would make me stay?”

“I never slept with anyone then.”

If not for the sincere gaze he held with you, you’d definitely think he’s lying. But Jaebeom rarely lied. He’s a cold-hearted asshole who hurt people with the truth, no matter how hard it was.

“Then why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

“At first I thought you got tired of me because I finally confessed to you. I thought you were done and that you were ready to leave me. I talked to your parents—”

“You talked to my parents?”

He nodded. “They told me you were moving across the country to get away from me. How could I stop you when your father almost wanted to kill me when he told me how you cried every night thinking your parents didn’t hear you?”

Jaebeom quietly stood up and faced you. He cupped your face and muttered “I’m sorry” repeatedly, kissing your tears as they continued to stream down your cheeks. “I love you so damn much. I will never forgive myself if I lose you again. Please trust me again. For the last time?”

He pulled you with him and settled back down to the couch. You stayed in his arms silently for the rest of the night.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of your phone ringing. Your swollen eyes hurt the moment you tried to look for the loud device. How you ended up in one of the beds in an unfamiliar house after a night of crying is a question easily thrown out the window.

An arm tightened around your waist when you attempted to get up. You whipped your head at the man beside you. He was sporting a deep frown beneath his long strands that partially covered his face. His wide shoulders on full display as he slept shirtless.

Your heart thumped loudly at the sight of Lim Jaebeom’s face so early in the morning. You wanted to kiss him. But you still owed yourself time to think through everything before jumping on your feelings again, aiming for a sound and logical justification of your next actions hoping to save yourself from any regrets in the near future.

You asked for space. A clear space to do your thinking and evaluation of your current status with Jaebeom. He promised to give it to you but with a condition—he will get to talk to you even on the phone every morning. The hell was this man actually thinking? How were you supposed to do your thinking when he’s continuously trying to fill your system with himself? Knowing he wouldn’t back down from any argument, you never objected but never promised anything either.

Every morning, a husky voice greeted you on the other line. This continued for a week and a half until he can no longer bear not seeing you in flesh.

“Come on, we already let five years pass. That’s more than enough time of suffering for me, baby,” he told you when he barged in your office carrying a baked salmon takeout for lunch. He knew that kind of food will work its magic on you. And sure, it did. When he was available during lunch, he’d come by your office to grab a meal with you. He’d also wait for you to finish your work to drive you back home. A lot of times you had to ask your secretary to take your car home.

You wanted to take all the time that you needed to establish your relationship with him. But when your friend Wheein played cupid for the both of you and hoisted an incredibly hot guy as your suitor to serve as ‘threat’, Jaebeom wasted no second in claiming you as his girlfriend, despite the fact that you both have been definitely acting like one already. “Seriously, Y/N? Do you ever learn? You need the commitment to make this shit work! Let me do the work for you.” Wheein scolded you when you told him you’re not yet in a conventional “official relationship”.

Mark’s wedding came. The ceremony had been elegant and extremely intimate. A slight contradiction to his past relationship with his now-wife.

Throughout the ceremony, Jaebeom stared at you from the altar. He watched as your eyes shone with tears when the bride walked the aisle and the couple shared their handwritten vows. He watched as you tried to look away when he was caught intently staring at you from across the church, trying to shy away from the evident desire to be in the same shoes as the bride.

If he could, he would have given you the world. He was ready to give you anything you asked for just for you to be happy. Marriage, he thought, is something that never really crossed his mind until you came back. Considering all the shit he put you through, he wouldn’t be surprised if you turn him down at least once. Maybe he deserves it but he will never give up on you again.

Thoughts cloud his mind but Jaebeom managed to keep his hands on you the whole course of the afterparty when he wasn’t aiding the groom. You didn’t mind, noticing the clouded expression plastered on his face. He didn’t have any liquor so he should be just tired, you assume.

That night, you decided to sleep over at his apartment. Wanting to save your boyfriend some extra time from driving back and forth from your house to his. Plus, his building was relatively closer to the reception compared to yours. Fortunately, Jaebeom lit up at your decision, excited to spend another weekend with you.

As soon as the door to his apartment closed, his lips found yours. It took you a second before returning his frantic kisses, your head lightly bumping into the wooden door as he pressed his own body against yours. He kissed you as if his life depended on it. His hands skimmed your curves and bunched up a fistful of your gown to caress your thigh.

Desperately gasping for air, you pushed him. Jaebeom must have noticed your legs almost turning into a jelly so he hoisted your hips upward, your legs automatically straddling his as he walked into the bedroom while supporting your body with a hand on your ass.

The way he gently placed you on the bed almost shocked you, like you were somewhat made of glass that could be broken with the slightest pressure. He propped himself on one elbow and stared at your eyes. You can tell something’s bothering him.

“A penny for your thoughts?” you whispered as you lightly touched his face, worried.

He shook his head and nuzzled your head instead of answering. Silently, he continued to stroke your sides and thigh lightly.

You didn’t want to force him to tell you what was bothering him, so you exerted an effort to flip your positions, determined to help your boyfriend relax.

Straddling his waist, you perched on top of him and started kissing him passionately. Slowly, you undid each button of his shirt.

He moved to help you discard his shirt and then reached around you to unzip your dress. He pulled the garment over your head and threw it on the floor. Now you’re completely bare in front of him, except for your underwear.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered on your lips before kissing you again. The way you ground your hips on his crotch driving him mad.

You stopped him when he attempted to go south, remembering your desire to help him ease the tension.

Jaebeom looked at you with confusion when you captured both his wrists and pinned them on either side of him.

“Let me take care of you,” you said, kissing the corner of his lips. The look on his eyes was replaced with amusement. You took your time concentrating on his upper body first, alternately kissing and sucking on his neck down to his abs while your hands massaged his member through his pants.

Jaebeom bit his lip. The mere sight of you naked and working on his jeans, barely even touching him, is enough to make his cock twitch in his pants. Each second you spent teasing him by slowing your movements was pure torture.

He immediately lifted his hips to help you pull his pants enough to free his cock.

Your hands instantly held the swollen tip and spread the precum around his head. You barely even touched him and the fact that he was hard as a rock for you sent delicious heat to your core. Your hands went up and down his shaft a few times, applying just the right pressure you came to learn lately with him.

Jaebeom had his eyes closed, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, trying his best not to moan.

Seeing Jaebeom unravel under your touch had become your addiction.

Your mouth soon replaced the greater portion where your hands used to touch a second earlier. And that was all it took for Jaebeom to finally moan loud, followed by a string of curses as his hips uncontrollably jerked at the warm feeling of your mouth. His hands found purchase on your hair. His moans motivated you to take him deeper down your throat in each thrust until you were almost gagging, eyes moist with tears.

He tried to keep himself from thrusting hard on your mouth when he noticed a tear escape your eye. “Shit. Baby, are you okay?”

You lightly shook your head and continued bobbing your head up and down his shaft until you could feel his cock twitch uncontrollably inside your mouth, signaling his release.

Jaebeom immediately pulled out and laid you on the bed, kissing you hard. He moved your panties to one side, dipping a finger to test your wetness. His other hand fondled your breast, twisting and pinching your nipples. You moaned to the kiss and arched your back, his ministrations throwing all of your senses into overdrive.

He peeled the last piece of clothing off of you and licked a strip between your folds before working his wet muscle inside your walls. You screamed and almost crushed his skull between your legs if not for his arms that massaged your mounds.

“Beom-ah,” you panted.

Jaebeom hummed in return, the vibrations causing your opening to clench around his tongue. He used his fingers to open you up and suck on your clit then proceeded to thrust fingers into your core.

You shook uncontrollably as the orgasm hit you and Jaebeom didn’t cease his fingers’ movements. He got back up and kissed your lips again. Aligning the tip of his cock to your opening.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you so fucking much. You drive me crazy.” he panted as he sheathed himself inside of you.

You wanted to say it back but your body was aching. After all the sex with your boyfriend, your core still doesn’t seem to have adjusted to his girth.

Jaebeom waited a few minutes before moving his hips, letting you adjust around him. He peppered kisses on your face and behind your ear. “Still so fucking tight.”

“I love you too, Lim Jaebeom,” you whispered and moved your hips after adjusting.

Jaebeom started thrusting, slow but hard. All the while he was intently looking at your face, contorted with pleasure. He kept saying he loves you and you kept ignoring it, unable to make out words in your current position.

“Y/N shit,” he breathed. “I love you so much. Please marry me and have kids with me.”

You opened your eyes to see the sincerity in his eyes. Fuck, he meant it.

“What?”

Jaebeom slowed down his thrusts even if it hurt. “I love you so much. Please marry me, Y/N.”

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes at the sudden marriage proposal. Never in your whole life had you imagined someone proposing marriage in the middle of the sex. If it wasn’t Jaebeom, you would have laughed. But it was him asking you. The guy you loved the most in your life. And even if he turned out to be just joking, you very well knew that there was a part of yourself wishing he actually meant it.

“Are you serious?”

“I’d do it the normal way some other time, baby. But I’ve said what I’ve been thinking about lately.” He tucked some loose hair behind your ear as he looked down at you. “I want to be yours forever. If you’d let me, I would marry you in every place you like.”

The cock twitched inside of you twitched as if urging you for affirmation.

Jaebeom searched your eyes for an answer. Only when you nodded and muttered a barely audible ‘yes’ did he continued to move in and out of you.

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themilky-way · 4 years

Text

in the night

gif credit: pedropcl

pairing: javier peña x fem! reader

summary: when you’re asked to partake in a dangerous task, you form a sudden and unexpected bond.

warnings: mentions of the mob and alcohol, a very vague implication of a gun

author’s note: this man lives in my mind rent free good-fuckin-night

----------

life in columbia sure as hell wasn’t easy, but being a dea agent working against the downfall of the world’s most powerful criminal took the proverbial cake. your mission had seemed fairly easy: travel to bogotá and help the columbian authorities catch escobar. except, the ambassador didn’t mention any sort of infiltration, one that had to be done by none other than you.

there was no fighting it. the job carried many (dangerous) responsibilities, and someone had to fulfill them. to help, steve had reached out to carillo and asked him to substitute one of his own men, which, in a way, wasn’t any better because someone’s life was still at risk, but it was denied. connie made the wait for you as easy as she could by sending you dinner with peña a few nights a week, and although you loved that woman like your own blood, she couldn’t make a bowl of rice even if her life depended on it.

by being a helpful friend though, connie had unintentionally brought her husband’s partner closer with you. you knew of him and how he worked, an unavoidable aspect if you operated where he did, but your role slightly differed from his. the week you had been assigned for undercover was spent in the privacy of your apartment, ensuring important documents were locked up, sorting a couple of suitcases as if this was a leisurely trip instead of a guaranteed death sentence. the following week wasn’t any less hectic, but it was the first time connie sent out a personal order to you. her chosen delivery man? yeah, you guessed it.

it became a regular occurrence after that. the days leading up to your departure began consisting of javier residing in your home for hours at a time. there were moments where he showed up at your door without a small bag of food, claiming steve was in charge of dinner that night and how he’d never forgive himself if he let you take a bite of it. you noticed how on some nights, he’d linger for just a few more minutes than he should’ve by washing spare dishes or going over routes crucial to the cartels. he didn’t need to do any of that, but the difference here was that he wanted to.

“so,” steve started off one morning, “you and peña- you guys a thing?” he ended it with a small smirk perfectly hidden by the bottom of his coffee mug. indeed, an unprofessional topic for an unprofessional man.

“to my knowledge, he’s just being a friend and a very bad delivery person,” had been your answer at the time, never once looking up from the jumble of words constituting your report. nothing else mattered as much as your security on that mission; you truly didn’t have the time to delve into emotional matters and invest any thought into silly questions like this. “he keeps me company, that’s all.”

perhaps you were lying to yourself about this whole thing, afraid of what might happen if you allowed emotion to regulate the demanding life you led. a vase of lively flowers would replace the holster on your coffee table. scattered papers and pens and pictures would find a home in neat sections of a drawer rather than the floor. a few photographs might even color the opaque walls. these were trivial aspects of your life, and the aspirations to contrive them hardly appeared in your mind, but now? well, now they were everywhere.

during the third week, javier didn’t even need steve’s wife to deliver anything. excuses to knock on the hard wooden door of the complex were compiled up in his brain, and they were eloquently spilled in order to pass its threshold. “you see these papers? yeah, we need to go over them,” he’d say all rushed and hurried, holding up a stack of articles with sloppy handwriting. the thoughts-hopes-from before would start then, and they’d take up every ounce of your reasoning as if nothing else mattered. from that point forward, javier’s attention was yours, and your’s his. watches’ were discarded and left on a random end of a couch, the sounds of the clock drowned out by the now casual chatter instead of a business delegation. nights of the exact nature transcurred one after another, with the agent leaving closer to dawn no matter his imploration to keep you company. “call me if you need anything, alright?”

ultimately, everything had led you to the couch your legs were crossed upon, javier sitting in the space between it and the small, rectangular coffee table. one leg lay calmly folded on the pearl-tinted carpet while the other was bent, an elbow resting sturdily on top of his knee. a blanket covered the bottom half of your sitting form with a few of its edges tickling the man’s arms, but it seemed he didn’t mind the feeling. you’d offered him one, and upon his negation, you’d offered him to share yours, which earned you a cocky remark. tonight, he didn’t bring any documents or transcripts to revise, only what he insisted to be the best take-out meal in town. additionally, being the friend he was, he gifted you a bottle of whiskey that was to be celebrated with, except he was on his third refill, and you weren’t even finished with the first.

“unless you wanna sleep here tonight, i suggest you slow it down,” a small joke as you leaned over to place the glass down. you assumed he’d laugh as he did with all your past banters, but was met with nothing but the sound of his ice rocking against his cup. naturally, you turned to face him as you reached back, catching a delicate smile below the curve of his stache.

“yeah, i’m sure you’d like that, huh?” he took a sip as coolly as ever. the glass came down next to yours, his newly free hand propping up on your knee closest to him. granted, the close intimacy wasn’t new-none of it was, at this point-but your very own mind was spinning and wasn’t due to the alcohol, or potential food poisoning, or even goddamn nerves wracking your system about the ordeal you’d be facing. “no, seriously. would you like me to stay?”

“i mean i wouldn’t technically mind it if i had company. i’d prefer connie but you’ll do, i guess,” to this, javi did release a hearty laugh, followed with a expression of feined insult.

a few hours trascurred beyond that moment before exhaustion creeped up on the both of you. it was arranged that he’d sleep on the sofa while your bed awaited you in the adjacent dorm, and it appeared quite modest. “i’ll, uh, i’ll be right back, hold on,” you assured him, discarding your day clothes for something more comfortable in private. you brushed your teeth next, and then fixed your disheveled hair into a style suited for sleep.

“oh shit, javi-” you found him sitting at the edge of your bed tucking in a sheet that almost threatened to come off. he’d taken the liberty of adjusting the variety of pillows and blankets how he deemed fit you best. “did you just un-make my own bed?”

he got up to lift one cover to motion you under it, replying with, “yes, ma’am, i sure did.” javier ensured that every single limb was secure under the safety of the sheet, standing up straight to peer down at his work and, regarding it “perfect,” said his good night, but cold fingers unsheathed themselves to encircle around his wrist to prevent him from leaving. “oh, come on, i did such a good job-”

“please stay with me. just for a little while,” you plead. it took him more than few seconds to properly register your words, but eventually he twisted his hand to take a hold of yours and bring it into his lap as he sat back down on the cushion. he didn’t mind-he never would. you spoke to him about random things, conspiracies and books and movies and in turn, he offered his own insight. amidst slurred words, the entanglement of your fingers to his occurred. javi’s thumb drew softly on the edge of your own; throughout the silence that suddenly filled the space, he cautiously lifted the top of your hand, as if to wait for a withdrawal, and when he saw none, he kissed it softly.

“murphy asked if you and i were a thing,” he mumbled.

“what’d you tell him?” you asked.

“that we are.” he kissed your hand again before letting it go, rising up to stand over you. with the same gentleness as he’d done to your skin, he inched down to press another to your forehead. “get some rest, i think you’ve seen enough of me for today.”

“i don’t really think that’s possible.”

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal #narcos #javier peña x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #my writing!#javier pena x reader

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be-bi-do-crime · 3 years

Note

Omg hey! I’m so exited to read the Valentine’s Day collab!! I love love loooove your writing so much!! So anyway I wrote my first Carulia fanfic and I just wanted to ask you what you think of this small bit? If it’s bad please tell me-I wanna improve🥺

If you don’t wanna critique it I totally get it, it is kind of long.

Julia POV

Warm rays of sunshine brushed Julia’s freckled cheeks, making up for the bite of frost in the air. The sky was a cheerful blue today, reflecting her mood. She was sitting at a street corner, admiring the view of quaint little shops that resembled the cutesy designs of dollhouses.

Saturday morning chatter rung in her ears in soft, eloquent words of French that were so different from the English required for her job. A frenzy of Bonjour’s (hello/good morning) and Comment allez vous? (How are you doing?) could be heard from across the street.

It was good to be home, to have a day off to enjoy the beauty she had forgotten Poiters possessed. As an avid traveller, there was nowhere quite like the city. Nothing could match it’s charming, Romanesque buildings or tranquil solitude.

Julia smiled at nothing in particular, a flaky, warm croissant in one hand and a timeless romance novel in the other.

How long had it been since she had gotten to relax like this? To enjoy the nature of her city and not have to chase a certain red rogue across the globe? The very same red rogue she struggled to protect from her coworkers?

A sigh escaped her lips. Suddenly her mind wandered to someone she hadn’t wanted to think about: Carmen Sandiego. The thief never ceased to plague her thoughts lately. A warm blush tinted her cheeks as she recalled the kiss they had shared in Cairo, Egypt. There was a sort of thrill in knowing it was so, so wrong, and Julia hated the adrenaline rush it gave her.

Their last interaction had been a week ago, and it had been on an ACME mission rather than the late night visits the thief had begun to pay her. The absence of the red rogue pained her terribly. She missed Carmen. She missed everything about her from her cunning gray eyes to her knowing smile, the light rasp to her voice, and the feel of her lips. She had barely gotten to see the lady in red recently.

Would this be what a relationship with the woman would entail? Random visits sprinkled through the weeks while Carmen gallivanted around the globe and Julia had to pretend she wanted her behind bars? Would she be doomed to live with this uncertainty, this emptiness?

At her inner turmoil, the thief seemed to appear before her with her signature smirk, the curl of her lips forever ingrained in Julia’s memory. Hallucination-Carmen spoke, reciting the promise she had made her not too long ago. “We can have a normal relationship, Jules. We’ll be able to see each other everyday, go on dates, do all of that couple-y stuff. I promise.”

Julia had scoffed at that, of course. Maybe in another world where she wasn’t dating a thief, for goodness sakes. But still she wished there was some way the red rogue could fulfill her promise. Julia knew that what Carmen was doing was absolutely important but....she couldn’t help but be selfish and wish she had her to herself.

On top of that, though, there was the fear that whatever was happening between the two was nothing but physical on Carmen’s end, that this...fling...would be over in a heartbeat and the red rogue would once again disappear with Julia’s heart, only this time she wouldn’t return.

She didn’t want fo think about that.

Trying to take her mind off her worries, Julia reopened her book. The petite woman frowned, nibbling on the last of her pastry and lazily scanning the page for anything interesting. It was one of her favorites, yet she couldn’t bring herself to relax, to forget.

Sighing, she closed the book with a sense of finality, tucking it safely in her messenger bag. It was no use. Nothing could keep Julia’s attention from Carmen for long.

“Partir déjà?” Said Nadia, Julia’s friend and the cashier. The woman adjusted the side of her hijab before opening the cash register. “Habituellement, vous passez toute la matinée ici lorsque vous êtes absent.”

TRANSLATION: “Leaving Already?.....Usually you spend the entire morning here when you’re off.”

Julia smiled sadly. “Quelque chose me vient à l'esprit ces derniers temps, Je ne peux pas me détendre.”

TRANSLATION: “Something has been on my mind lately. I can’t relax.”

Nadia smirked knowingly. “Querelle d'amant?“

TRANSLATION: “Lover’s Quarrel?“

Julia felt her cheeks heat up. Nadia was one of the few people who even knew she was seeing someone, let alone the fact that that someone was a thief. “Entre autres, oui. Il s’agit plus de mon travail.“

TRANSLATION: “Among other things, yes. It’s more about my job.“

Nadia shook her head, making a tut sound. “Tu travailles trop dur.“ She inserted her credit card into the register, swiping twice before the transaction was complete. “Vous savez, les filles et moi allons au Buckingham Club ce soir. Tu devrais venir. Je parie que cela vous fera oublier ... quel est son nom? Carolyn?“

TRANSLATION: You work too hard....You know, the girls and I are hitting the Buckingham Club tonight. You should come. I bet that’ll take your mind off of...what’s her name? Carolyn?“

“Carmen.“ Julia corrected with a smile. “Et Je ne sais pas, pas ce soir. je n'en ai pas vraiment envie.”

TRANSLATION: “Carmen....I don’t know, not tonight. I don’t really feel like it.”

“ S'il vous plaît? Ce sera amusant!?” Nadia replied, making an exaggerated pouty face.

TRANSLATION: “Please? It’ll be fun!”

“Je ne devrais vraiment pas.....”

TRANSLATION: “I really shouldn’t...”

The cashier shook her head, pressing her lips into a thin line. “Oh, Julia, tu es toujours aussi ennuyeuse.”

TRANSLATION: “Oh, Julia, you’re always such a bore.”

Jules simply smiled in response, pushing the rim of her glasses up her nose. “Peut-être la prochaine fois, Nadia.”

TRANSLATION: “Maybe next time, Nadia.”

She said her goodbyes and left the small cafe, the little bell at the door signaling her departure. The cool, crisp air met Julia immediately, the frost already kissing her skin. She turned the corner, making a beeline for her apartment complex when suddenly, a certain beeping sound caught her attention.

A very familiar beeping sound.

She threw a discreet glance over her shoulder before darting into the nearest alleyway, ducking behind the nearest dumpster before removing her pen from her pocket.

Julia clicked the cap, tossing it to the ground as she wrinkled her nose at the stench.

“Agent Argent.“ Chief’s no-nonsense voice came as her hologram blossomed. “I have a new mi-“ She paused, taking in Julia’s location.

“Are you behind a dumpster, Agent?“

Julia felt her cheeks heat slightly “I was in public and had to be...creative...“ She replied curtly, breathing through her mouth.

“Right....anyhoo,“ Chief began again, adjusting her blazer. “I’ve got on assignment for you. I’m sorry to interupt your time off, but you’re the closest agent in proximity.“

Julia smiled sadly, scratching her wrist. “It’s alright, chief. I was feeling restless anyway.“

Chief cocked her head in mild concern. “I’m sorry to hear that, Argent. It’s nothing too serious, but we have reports of some meddling with the security systems at the Louvre. I need you to investigate.“

“Of course. Will Agent Zari or Devineaux be accompanying me?“ She asked, already picturing the splendor at the Louvre. Maybe a trip to the museum was just what she needed today.

“No. Zari and Devineaux are on a case in Santo Domingo.“ Chief said, beginning to pace the length of the alleyway.

“Khadija or Jonas, then?“ Julia replied, referencing two agents she’d been paired with in the past, albeit less frequently than Chase or Zari.

“You’ll be going it alone today. Intel indicates that Carmen Sandiego won’t be present. I trust you can handle a routine check up.”

“I’ll take care of it, chief.“ She answered, giving a small salute to her superior. Internally, Julia released a sigh of relief that she wouldn’t have to tail Carmen.

“Good. Transportation has already been arranged and the details should be on your phone.“ Chief said, crossing her arms. Almost simultaneously, her phone pinged with an encrypted email from ACME.

“Don’t disapoint me, Agent.“ With a terse nod, the hologram disappeared from before her.

Quickly, she darted home and changed into her ACME-issued suit before making her way to the train station. Paris was waiting, after all.

...

No matter how many times she frequented the city, Paris never ceased to amaze Julia with a million new places she hadn’t visited yet. The Louvre, however, was an outlier to the fact. It was Julia’s favorite spot to hit whenever she was in the area.

It had been One-Thirty when her train had pulled into the Paris Saint Lazare, a station settled on the right bank of the Seine and the one closest in proximity to her destination.

The Louvre lay before her in all its grandiose splendor, afternoon sunlight glinting off of the crystal pyramid and casting a rainbow into the burbling fountain before it. The Famed palace of the same name was set on either sides of it, the tasteful renaissance era architecture transporting her into another time.

Julia smiled. She knew every corner of the museum. Every nook and crany was immortalized in her mind from it’s renowned Petite Galerie to it’s extended Egyptian exhibit.

She removed her ACME card from her messenger bag, thumbing it’s side to allow her interpol credentials before going to speak with the security

As promised, a staff member was waiting for her once she got inside.

“Bonjour. Julia Argent, Interpol Britain?“ A tall, skinny man with hooded blue eyes and unkempt blonde hair stepped forward.

“Oui.“ She replied, flashing her badge. “Marcel Cardone?“

“Oui, correct.“ He answered in a thick French accent. “Thank you for coming.“ He said, gesturing for her to walk with him.

Julia smiled. “Bien sûr. J'ai été informé mes supérieurs de la mission. Pouvez-vous me dire quel semble être exactement le problème?“

TRANSLATION: “Of course. I was briefed by my superiors on the mission. Can you tell me what exactly seems to be the problem?“

Marcel spoke as he led her through the halls of the grand building. “Do not worry, I am fluent in English. I do not know the details but the head of security will inform you on the matter.“

“Sounds good,“ Julia said reverting back to English. Her guide stopped at a door with la sécurité (security) written in bold script.

“This is it, mademoiselle.“ Marcel said, opening the door and leading her to the back. Standing before her was another door. Probably to an office, Julia guessed. “Monsieur Toussaint? L'agent d'Interpol est arrivé.“

TRANSLATION: “Mr.Toussaint? The interpol agent has arrived.“

A tall, stocky man with brown skin glanced up, adjusting his glasses. “L'agent? Miss, le problème s'est corrigé juste avant votre arrivée.”

TRANSLATION: “The Agent? Miss, the issue corrected itself just before you arrived.”

“Il n'y a donc rien de mal avec la sécurité?” Julia asked, confused.

TRANSLATION: “So is there nothing wrong with the security?“

“Plus maintenant, non...” Mr.Toussaint answered, scrutinizing her.

TRANSLATION. “Not anymore, no.”

“Mais je suis venu tout ce chemin...” She answered, slightly disappointed.

TRANSLATION: “But I came all this way....”

The man scratched the side of his head in mild concern. “Nous sommes désolés, mademoiselle. Perhaps you would like a tour of the Louvre in compensation?”

TRANSLATION: “We are sorry, Miss. Perhaps you would like a tour of the Louvre in compensation?”

“No, it’s quite alright, thank you.” Julia murmured, tugging at the hem of sleeve.

“Please accept. Nous allons même le rendre gratuit!”

TRANSLATION: Please accept. We will even make it free!”

“If you insist.” Julia smiled awkwardly.

“Good.” Mr.Toussaint lifted the phone on his desk, dialing as he spoke. “Cheryl? Préparez-vous à faire une visite. Oui. Rencontrez-la près des statues.”

TRANSLATION. “Cheryl? Prepare to give a tour. Yes. Meet her by the statues.”

The balding man put the phone down, swiping through the many papers scattered on his desk. “Our tour guide, Cheryl, will meet you out by our Sculpture Department. Please enjoy your day.”

They exchanged goodbyes and thank-yous before Mr. Toussaint returned to the millions of files on his desk and Julia to the swarming museum crowds.

Deftly, Julia navigated the throngs of people, making her way to the modern sculpture exhibit. As promised a woman was waiting before the exhibit checking her watch.

Her dark red-brunette hair was pulled into a pony-tail, and a pair of green khakis and a blue blouse contrasting against her flawless brown skin. From the back of her head, Julia could see a thick pair of glasses settling at the rim of her nose.

She seemed familiar, so very familiar....

And then she spoke. “Enjoying the view, Jules?”

The light rasp, the sultry tone of voice...

The petite woman gasped. “Carmen?”

“Surprise.” The thief said with a smirk.

“What’re you doing here?!” Julia asked, confused. Was Carmen behind the security issue already being solved before she arrived?

“You must have mistaken me for someone else,” The Red Rogue grinned coyly, reaching over gracefully and slipping her fingers between Julia’s. “I’m just Cheryl Vasquez, foreign exchange student and Louvre Tour guide.”

“Of course.” Julia scoffed but played along. “And what would Cheryl Vasquez be doing touring the Louvre?”

“If you’re asking whether I’m here to stop VILE, then no. They aren’t trying to steal anything. I’m here of my own accord.” Carmen replied, her thumb tracing circles along Julia’s palm.

“So I suppose it’s just a coincidence that I was sent here on a mission?”

Carmen winked at her, her rouged lips relaxing into their signature grin. “Yep. A coincidence. Absolutely nothing more.”

A twitch of annoyance flared within Julia. Sometimes Carmen’s games could get tiring. “Well then, since you aren’t stealing anything, I’ll be on my way then.”

“What?” The thief said, for once taken aback.

“You heard me.” Julia began with a smirk, turning in the other direction. “Have a nice day, Miss Sandiego. The Louvre is quite the sight to see.”

“Not so fast, Jules.” Carmen grasped her wrists gently, pulling her in close. Julia blushed, her mouth mere inches from the thief’s. She parted her lips gently, her eyelids sinking lower. Her tongue flecked across the expanse of her bottom lips as she waited to meet the thief’s lips for the first time in more than a week.

“Huh?” Julia said in confusion as she felt the other woman’s heat move away from her own.

Carmen was no longer before her, lips moving closer. Instead she darted away from the smaller woman, a smug grin scrawled on her beautiful face. She waved Julia’s ACME gas gun in the air teasingly, throwing her a wink. “A theft in progress is occurring, agent. You’re lawfully required to follow.”

“Carmen!” Julia shouted in shock, not at all caring about the attention they were gaining from their fellow museum-go-ers. “Give it back!”

“Come and get me!” She called with a trickle of laughter, disappearing into the hordes of people.

Julia smiled despite her frustration and ran after her, for once not at all caring that her behavior was extremely unprofessional.

That was what Carmen did to her. She...freed her. Allowed Julia to relax, to sit still, to live in the moment.

Julia felt all the tension that had built up over the course of the week melt away as she pursued the chase and danced across the Louvre court yard.

She chased Carmen out of the museum, nearing the edge of the complex. “Aha!” Julia shouted, finally catching up to her lover and realizing a smile had formed on her lips.

“You’ve got me, alright,” Carmen smiled, lowering her lashes flirtatiously as her voice lowered teasingly. She slipped her arms around Julia’s waist being just tall enough that the shorter woman had to slightly look up to meet her eyes. “Now what’re you gonna do with me?”

Julia answered her with a kiss, feeling the thief’s bright red lipstick smear onto her mouth. The lady in red captured Julia’s lower lip with her teeth, chuckling at the ACME agent’s Yelp of surprise as she tugged. Every gasp that managed to escape her lips was swallowed by Carmen’s mouth as she pulled her closer with passion.

“Mhm, I’ve missed that.” Julia smiled. “I’ve missed you.”

“You aren’t the only one.” Carmen purred against her lips. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to come and see you...but...”

“It’s alright, Carmen. I understand.” Julia whispered, touching her forehead to the Latina’s and lacing her fingers through the thief’s. “Do you plan on telling me why you’re here, though?”

“Can’t I just pay a visit to my favorite ACME agent?” She teased, beginning to lead Julia out of the museum complex.

“At my apartment, yes. But here?”

“Okay fine....” The thief relented, turning away. Julia spotted a tiny tinge of a blush dusting her cheeks. Carmen? Blushing? “I....may or may not have had my team hack the museum security and leave a trace to VILE to get you sent here.”

“Carmen!” Julia hissed. “You could get caught! And for what? Just to see me? You can meet me at my apartment!”

“Hey, hey, what’s done is done, alright?” She said, her arms flying in front of her in attempt to calm her down. Then, she smiled. “Aww you were worried about me. That’s adorable.“

“Thats-Thats not!....Thats not the point!“ Julia tried to fight a blush but it was no use.

Carmen laughed, caressing Julia’s face and tilting her chin up to meet her eyes. “Hey. I know you mean well. I’ll be more careful from now on. Promise.“

“O...Okay.“ Julia murmured, the woman in red’s slate gray eyes catching her off guard.

“But...since you’re already here....we should make the most of it, no?“ Carmen smiled sweetly, for once with no tinge of smugness to it.

“Alright.“ Julia relented with a small grin. “So is this a....date?“

The latina winked, her teeth sliding over her bottom lip. “Do you want it to be?“

“No! I mean...I just thought...“

“Relax, I’m messing with you.“ Carmen said, taking Julia’s hands in hers. “The truth is...Jules...I wanted to prove that I’m serious about this. About us. You...mean a lot to me, and I want us to be about more than just random hookups.“

The petite woman felt herself smiling at the other’s words, and gave the red rogue’s hands a squeeze. “You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that.“

Carmen returned her grin, running her thumb over Julia’s knuckles. “Explanations aside, are you ready for the greatest date in the world?“

Julia’s brow tugged upwards along with her lips. “The greatest, huh?“

Carmen threw her a flirty glance. “Hey, I don’t settle for second best.“

“I can see that. Alright then, Miss Sandiego.“ The shorter woman said coyly, “Show me what you got.“

....

ANON!! THIS IS SO AMAZING OH MY GOD?? for your first fic this is incredible and i absolutely love how you write them!! everything is so in character and carmen absolutely would create an entire heist just to meet up with jules 😭

i don’t have much to critique: just a few minor spelling errors here and there and some misplaced punctuation but that’s it, everything else is so good?? i’m serious this gave me so much serotonin omg,,, if you post it on ao3 let me know and i’ll be sure to leave kudos and a comment!! <3

and thank you so much for enjoying my writing, i can say the same for you :D

#asking carmen #long post #receiving julethief fic in my asks inbox is a blessing

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bubbleyumss · 3 years

Text

The Scorch - LOKI - BUCKY - PT2.

It's a few weeks after the readers and Loki's first mission together, and during a press event they are reminded of what the public still think of them. Loki's not too impressed, and has some words of advice.

TW: Not much, mentions of harm/death/some magic n flame use?

It was time for the tri-monthly press event, Fury wished to hold one every so often so that we could share with the modern media what we have done and who we are. It was severely degrading in my opinion, they were pretty much just grand parties where a few journalists who had paid enough to be there managed to mingle their way through the crowds of other suck-ups to get a two-minute exclusive from Steve Rogers, seeing as he was always the one they wished to speak to. It was held at the old Avengers tower, as it was still owned by Stark it was now just leased out for events of this calibre.

I sat at the bar, looking out at the crowd of random faces, those that had paid a high price or had friends in high places, and the odd spattering of familiar faces. I was never approached by journalists in these situations, as they believed me too dangerous. It was the same story with Bucky and the newest recruit, Loki, as they saw us all as the help cases, only wishing to talk to us when we were next to someone redeemable.

Speaking of Loki, his face had disappeared from the crowd some time ago, I knew this because I had been watching him. Since our first mission was a success, the team had allowed him to join on a probation basis; this meant that the raft of new start-up bases we had found when in Argentina we were tasked with finding and shutting them down. It had been about four months since our first one, and we had found and destroyed five of them. It seemed that they were beginning to trust Loki and I as a team, though I wondered if it was done on purpose, for the very same reason that reporters were avoiding us both like the plague. We were the outcasts, Bucky too, but when you had the friendship and advocacy of America's most loved hero you were hardly seen as such, but Loki and I, two people who had killed and maimed on our own free will, were seen as irredeemable. This irritated me more than others knew, as with the past that Bucky and I shared I would have hoped that I would share in just an ounce of his redemption, but it seemed I reminded him far too much of the Winter Soldier, so I was cast aside.

"You don't look like you're enjoying yourself." Nat's voice brought me out of my thoughts, I turned to her and gave a small, defeated smile.

"Am I supposed to be?" I tried to laugh, "Is it really a press night when no press will talk to me." I rolled my eyes, leaning back against the bar. I wore something suggested by Nat, as to try and make me look like any normal woman at these events, meaning a skintight sparkly dress. I felt extremely uncomfortable, used to trousers and long sleeves, but it made me fit in really well.

"It was the same with me when S.H.E.I.L.D first started up. You'll become more approachable in time, look, already..." She began, nodding her head toward a smaller man holding a recording device nervously making his way to us both. I sat up straight, watching his smile falter.

"Um, hello ladies, I'm from the Evening Empire, do you mind if I get a couple of answers from you?" He smiled, directing most of his eye contact towards Natasha. I held the urge to roll my eyes, smiling through my uncomfortable uneasiness growing in my body.

"Of course, shoot." Nat smiled, gesturing for him to begin.

"Okay well, I suppose I must ask do you mind if I use your agent names for this article?" He then asked, glancing my way rather quickly. I held in my sigh, keeping my back straight. I looked to Nat, her eye giving me her usual look, we both looked back, nodding. "Great, okay, so Black Widow and The Scorch-" I took a sharp intake of breath as he spoke the name. I hated it. "How are things now that Stark is no longer at the helm, does Fury retain the same influence?"

"Stark still has his input, of course, but it was always Fury's project, and he was always the one giving orders and putting us to missions in the first place. So, nothing has really changed." Nat shrugged. I told him how it was unfair for me to answer, seeing as I hadn't really been under command of Stark, he was away in the Blip, and when he returned he played his part as we all did.

"Black Widow, are you visiting Hawkeye? How is he and are we likely to see his return to the team any time soon?" He asked, his recorder being pushed past my face so that he could reach Nat. I looked away, trying to compose myself, suddenly catching the amused eyes of Loki. He was across the room, in a very similar position with his brother, Thor. The reporters, all women, were practically pushing him aside to get to Thor, but his brother held an iron tight grip on him, forcing him to stay put. I rolled my eyes, smirking as I did, knowing that he would understand my pain. His own smirk graced his face, giving a small nod of appreciation. "A question for you, Black Widow, and of course you may jump in if you wish, but how has it been adjusting to anti-hero's joining the team? Of course, we know of the Winter Soldier and his road to redemption, I wondered if it is the same for The Scorch, or even the newest member, Loki?" He then asked, gaining my attention. I looked to him, making him flinch slightly; I then glanced to Nat, who held an apologetic look on her face.

"No one in this team in perfect, and it's unfair to say that someone can't decide to help others now because of past mistakes." She shrugged, answering much more eloquently than I would have been able to.

"Killing hundreds of people hardly counts as mistakes, The Scorch burnt down, what is it, five cities to date?" He asked, passing the recorder to me, as if I was supposed to fact check him. I scoffed, giving up on my niceties.

"Just as Nat said, no one here is perfect. I'm sure if you counted the bodies in Sokovia you could add up to how many I have-" I stopped myself, taking in a deep breath, "My 'road to redemption' as you called it is long, I know. No longer than Bucky's, but you all seem to love him now, so I'm sure one day I'll get there." I gave a tight-lipped smile, getting to my feet in a way that made the reporter take a few steps back, I could feel myself heating up so I looked back to Nat, "I'll see you later." I sighed, quickly removing myself from the bar and through the crowd.

I found myself outside, just needing to gasp as much fresh air as I could. It was suffocating, all of it. As much as I loved living with my team, working with them, finally finding a place that I could be myself and use the powers I was burdened with for good, a lot of the time I just wish I could be done with it all. I leant against the metal of the balcony, sighing as I did. It was crystal clear, so the stars and the moon provided the perfect light to take myself away from the sounds of chatting and music playing in the room behind me. I closed my eyes, wishing to take my mind away, when footsteps were then heard behind me. I sighed, spinning on my heels quickly, wishing to scare away who ever had followed me, only to release the tension in my shoulders and face when I locked onto Loki's amused eyes.

"It's just me." He said, holding his hands up, smirking. "I suppose you're out here to get away from those insufferable journalists." He snarled, glancing behind him to where he had clearly just left his brother for the same reason. I nodded, leaning back against the railing again, crossing my arms as he continued to stalk towards me. His gaze was so very intimidating, and I couldn't help but feel nervous every time I was under it.

"I suppose you're not as much as an outcast when you have the worlds most loved Avenger by your side." I rolled my eyes, Loki's arm came to lean on the railing beside me, his eyes following mine to where Steve stood, smiling with his arm around Bucky, talking to a large group of laughing journalists, "Thor and Nat can only do so much. We're the ones they don't trust and it's not changing anytime soon."

"We are outcasts together." He then said, taking my focus away from the party. I looked up to him, watching as his blue eyes sparkled under the moonlight. We had been in mission after mission for the past few months, so I had never had time to look at him in such a way. Of course, there was the few times we would catch each other in the hallways of the compound, as his room was not far from mine, a moment would be shared, but never one so close. I gave a small smile.

"I suppose we are." His own smile reached his face, only for our attention to be taken when the music had turned up a notch, creating a livelier dance scene within the room. "I've been asked about you tonight.. though, they used a different name.." He said in a questioning tone, forcing my smile to fade.

"The Scorch. I know." I sighed, waving my arms in the air in annoyance. "I hate it."

"Why?" I looked back to him, seeing his face as genuine. In our missions he had stayed true to his word and only answered any of my questions after a time in which he saved my life. Unfortunately, or fortunately, this had happened nearly eight times. Though, somewhere in the middle, he answered more than one, and following from there we had become more comfortable talking to each other. He was right when he said we were outcasts together, as in this moment he truly felt like the only person I could talk to freely. "It's powerful, is it not?" He suggested.

"I suppose.. but it's also made to terrify people." I shrugged, "I was named it before I joined the team. They used it as my alias when I was being hunted." His face turned concerned as his body moved towards me slightly, perhaps in an effort to comfort me. "It just reminds me of the places I've turned to dust, the people who died while I worked for Hydra... and I'm sure that's all people can think of when they hear it too." I muttered, becoming nervous under his eyes. I hadn't been so open with him before, of course I knew that we were becoming closer, but to talk about my fears with the God of Mischief? It was almost destined for disaster.

"Well.. change it." He shrugged, "Change the meaning. It's the past, and while it can't be changed, the future can."

"Very philosophical." I chuckled, rolling my eyes. "It will always have that meaning."

"Okay then, here's another idea." He stood straight, showcasing his enthusiasm. He opened his arms as his mouth turned upward into a smirk. "Embrace it." He then said, suddenly multiplying himself into three. He had done this in a previous mission, forcing me to marvel at his powers. He had described them as a seidr, and that he had learnt the use of the Asgardian form of witchcraft from his mother, of course I never wanted to give him the satisfaction of being impressed, but I couldn't manage a straight face. The two beside him then disappeared just as they had appeared, "I was given the title of God of Mischief, I had to grow to fit that title rather than fight it. And look where I am now."

"You tried to take your crown, twice, failed.. you tried to invade New York, failed, and I forget, has it been three or four times now you've faked your own death?" I asked, keeping my amused smile painted to my face. He turned, rolling his eyes in an attempt to leave me; I laughed, grabbing on to his arm to pull him back, "I'm kidding. I appreciate the sentiment, Loki. I do." I smiled, suddenly pulling him far closer than I meant to. I still held onto his arm as his chest was only mere centimetres away from mine, his face looking down to me much closer than it ever had been, and I had been right. The moonlight made his eyes look like the ocean, something I could easily lose myself in. I realised the proximity, coughing awkwardly as I let go of his arm and took a step back, "So... embrace it how?" I asked, hoping to push the conversation forward.

"Have fun with it." He smiled, leaning back on the railings once more, "My brother says you can throw your ability.. you set alight his beard just by staring hard enough." He chuckled, raising his eyebrows.

"I can only do it if I concentrate, I have to be still and so do they." I sighed, "I haven't fully mastered it. It was actually how I burnt down my third foster home... if I don't concentrate I can't control it. It's dangerous." I warned, knowing what he was going to ask of me next. He shrugged.

"Okay, so concentrate." He said, scanning the crowd of people through the glass, zeroing in on a woman at the bar I had previously left Nat at. "Her feather boa seems a little obnoxious." He smirked. I turned, watching as she placed her large red boa on the top of the bar, taking up a large amount of room. I glanced back to Loki, rolling my eyes again, but unable to keep the smirk from my face.

"That's not going to help my reputation, Loki." He stood up, taking a step to me, and placing his hands on my shoulders from behind, turning my attention back to the woman. We hadn't touched this way before, it was so small, and not significant in any which way, but the feeling of his hands on my bare skin felt so... normal. I had expected the cold of his own skin to react with the heat of mine, but it was as if they cancelled each other out, making the connection feel melded.

"I embraced the unpredictability of chaos and mischief, and you must do the same with fire. You will be able to concentrate and control it more if you can practice. So, what do you say?" He questioned. My breath hitched as his mouth then came close to my ear, cheek pressed slightly to it, "Shall we have a little fun?"

I smiled, feeling the exhilaration coming from his hands on my skin; I didn't know if he were doing something to me in order to spur me on, but either way I could feel the power of expectation feeding my urge to do as he said. It felt oh so similar to when I worked for Hydra and executed their missions, but this time I knew that I wasn't about to hurt anyone, making my conscience clear for the first time in my life. I planted my feet to the floor, focusing my eyes and my energy onto this boa that was truly obnoxious, feeling myself heat myself a degree or two before the boa rather explosively set alight. Loki's hands squeezed my shoulder as we both shouted in excitement; I looked back to him just to see the smile he held on his face, seemingly proud of my accomplishment. The party goers panicked, the woman shouting about her favourite boa as other tried to run around and put it out.

"My turn." Loki then whispered, letting go of me and coming to my side. I watched his face grow determined. His eyes were trained on the people that had backed away from the bar watching the fire; suddenly the drinks within their hands began to pop, splashing into each of their faces and sending ice and small umbrellas go flying everywhere. I began to chuckle, watching on as they worried about what was happening. "Brilliant." He laughed. I looked back to him endearingly, realising that this was the first time I had heard him laugh.

"Thank you, Loki." I smiled, "Shall we get a drink?"

The bar had just been cleared, the people who now wore their drinks had disappeared and the ash of the feather boa had been wiped away, so it was free for Loki and me to take our place there and order ourselves some drinks.

"Oh dear, what happened here?" Loki asked the bartender, face convincingly sincere. The man shrugged.

"Weird things, man. Spontaneous combustion all over the place." He sighed, sliding our glasses to us. A smirk befell both of our faces as we held our glasses to each other, clinking together in a twisted celebration of our mischief. I wondered if this night would mean anything new for us as a team, whether it would create a new, closer dynamic or if it would make it so that Fury didn't want us to work with each other anymore. It wasn't hard for the team to figure out who did what around here, so it was only a matter of time before we were told that it was 'too dangerous' for us to work together.

"Um, hello, excuse me?" A voice then said, taking me away from my previous thoughts. It was the same man from before who questioned Nat and I, he was holding his recorder tightly in his grip, looking like he was nearly shaking. "May I question you two?" His voice held fake confidence as he looked between Loki and I, and while I commended him for facing a fear and growing the guts to talk to us both, I knew what the questions would be. I glanced to Loki, then back to the man.

"Go ahead."

"J-just the one question really... um... what do you say to those who are afraid of the partnership between The Scorch and the God of Mischief?" The moment the words left his mouth I sighed, looking to Loki who simply held his glass to his lips, allowing for me to answer the question. I looked down to the journalist, taking the recorder from his hands and holding it to my mouth.

"I have a three-point answer for you." I raised my eyebrows, noticing that I had caught the attention of others around us, "The Scorch is a name you gave me, it's connotations around destruction and death don't represent me anymore." I glanced back to Loki, "But I'm working to embrace my powers so that they don't lead to that very same destruction, so for now, I'll allow you to continue to use that name."

"Point two?" Loki's voice questioned, making me smile.

"Point two, Loki and I seem to be the outcasts, sure, but that doesn't mean that we can't do good. In fact, it's all we've been doing for the past couple of months, but you just don't know it." I rolled my eyes, watching as more and more people joined the small crowd, now including Steve and Bucky. Bucky's eyes were trained on me, arms crossed in an almost disapproving way, I had to fight away the roll of my eyes, "We have been dismantling new Hydra start-ups together, and doing a damn good job of it I would say. We are outcasts together, and so we will continue to work together." I sighed, glancing back at Loki in order to get his final input.

"Point three?" He suggested, eyes twinkling with mischief once again. I looked back to the reporter, not before catching the eye of others around us as to join them in on the conversation.

"To truly answer your question, you shouldn't be afraid of us. Fearing us is pointless when all we are trying to do it help the state of the world as it is." I shrugged, "This world is in far more disarray than Loki or I could possibly cause, so as we both do our jobs, and have fun while we do so, just get on with your lives." I gave a wry smile as I handed it back to the journalist, watching as his lips twitched as if to say something. Though it seemed that all he could manage was an insincere smile, nodding his head before he scurried away. I turned back to Loki, pulling my drink to my lips as he smiled down at me.

"That was marvellous." He commented, amusement seeping through his words. "I may grow to actually like you."

"You can admit that you already do, Loki, it won't make me see you as any less of a God." I winked, perhaps coming across far more flirtatious than I set out to be. I froze for a moment, not knowing how he was going to take it, but as his smile turned to its side into a smirk, I felt an unfamiliar heat rise in my stomach. I was used to all types of heat, I knew how my body reacted to things, but this was new.

"You may be right."

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dottiechan · 3 years

Text

Tempest (Pt. 3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Read on AO3

Pairing: Ava Du Mortain x f!Detective

Wordcount: 2031

Warnings: murder, mentions of prostitution & drugs

Summary: Ava and the Detective must pull an all-nighter working on a case on Christmas Eve, 1896.

A/N: Happy Holidays! What better way to celebrate or relax this December than with some soft Ava? Huge thanks to @sparkedupsilver for being an absolute delight and giving me brilliant ideas about locations! <3

Image credit: Pixoloid Studios, Alienist: The Angest of Darkness concept art

London, Christmas Eve, 1896

A woman appears on the street, retreating into the shadows as she heads into the heart of the district, avoiding the light of the gas lamps illuminating the road in yellow circles. She is barely wearing anything to fend off the chilling wind and the snow - a torn shift several sizes too big for her underneath a corset, the sleeves spilling down her upper arms to reveal a set of bony shoulders. Even through the darkness, Ava can see the way she shakes, the dried blood sitting on her upper lip she haphazardly tried to wipe off with the back of her hand. She can almost smell her craving.

She’d put her money on cocaine if she had to guess what’s left the young prostitute in such an abominable state. That is, if she gambled, of course. Or cared much about the poisonous substances humans consumed for medicinal use or - as in this young woman’s case - their temporary bliss. The most accurate label for her as a whole would be a misanthrope, as Nate has so eloquently stated it on many occasions before, but she finds herself shifting and morphing into something else – she can feel it. She cares what she puts in her body. She cares what she does to herself. What is the term for a woman who would give herself up in a heartbeat solely to ensure the safety of another?

Her eyes shift from the window as she dares a glance inside the office. She snaps her head back in an instant when she realises what she’s doing. Don’t be a fool.

It’s her personal mantra these days.

Instead, she focuses on the woman outside, watches her as she leaves High Street and hurries down Whitechapel Road. She takes a sudden turn left, and disappears down an unlit alley. There are conventional ways to celebrate a white Christmas, and many of the Whitechapel residents seem to re-think what that festivity means for them. Not that Ava can particularly blame them - the circumstances in the worst slums of London are hardly its residents’ fault, and more so that of the authorities’. This area is relatively safe, but that is only because the recurring police patrols end with High Street – a necessary but superficial effort to quell the legacy of terror Jack the Ripper had left behind. (As if mere policemen could keep anyone safe from a werewolf like the Ripper was, Ava scoffs inwardly.) Beyond High Street is chaos and misery, and unfortunately cesspools like that offer the rot of rogue supernaturals a place to fester and spread quickly. Despite Ava’s best efforts, the detective has refused countless times to even consider selling the small flat she uses as her office to relocate to Chelsea or Marylebone or even Westminster.

And the thought of another rogue element potentially rising so close to the private detective’s office upsets Ava more than she cares to admit.

While other agents pursue the rogue supernatural, Ava is still assigned to her protection, loaned as a partner to her small detective agency she’s inherited from her father - at least that is what the detective thinks this setup means. Normally, Ava would be deeply offended by such a role. A mere bodyguard, compelled to deal with the crimes of mortals, a true retrogression in her career. But she finds herself caring, and that alone is more alarming than the Agency’s decision to keep her in her current position. This little act she puts on, the game she plays that plants the fallacy of their partnership in the private detective’s mind, it rings truer than it should, means more than what is allowed. It has been like this for months now, and with each passing day, the lie grows a little heavier. She wonders when it will finally crush them both.

She listens to the detective bustle in the tiny kitchen of the office, and the moment - heavy with the honeyed comfort of quiet domesticity - is enough to make her heart ache. She would never in a million years admit it, but leaving this place, this job, this woman... It would be the hardest thing she’d ever have to do.

So when she joins Ava by the window and offers her a cup of steaming, strong coffee - she doesn’t even like it, and she doesn’t understand why the detective would drink it to keep her awake, let alone consume it on the regular - she accepts wordlessly. The night casts long shadows across the office, hiding them both in a world where no one else exists other than the two of them. Ava never had neither the heart nor the mind for poetry the way Nate does, but in this moment, as their shoulders absent-mindedly touch, her skin burning up with the heat of her body even through her shirt and the detective’s soft leg o’ muttons sleeve, she could attest to her fatal attraction in a fashion that would shame even the great poets of old.

But that is all it really is. Fatal in every sense of the word.

Ava contemplates speaking to her about what is on her mind, but the words get stuck in her throat, and she forces them back down with a sip of strong coffee.

“There’s work to be done.” Too callous, she scolds herself inwardly, even if it is true. There are many old articles about relating murders they have to revisit, along with what they know of previous victims through the morsels of information Commissioner Bradford has loaned the detective out of respect for her late father with whom they served together in the military. The woman on her right mistakes her tone for annoyance, and Ava finds herself steeling her insides when her concerned gaze finds her deceptively pallid face.

“I’m sorry I’ve dragged you into this. It’s Christmas Eve, I understand if you wanted to be anywhere else than here.”

I don’t. I really don’t. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. “I have nowhere else to be.”

“No family?” the private detective asks, eyebrows raised in a way Ava knows she has her undivided attention. She never wants this moment to end, never wants her to look at anyone else like this other than her.

“Not anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Silence settles on them for a while, and they watch the snowfall in a quiet trance. They have work to do, and yet they stand side by side, unable to move, unwilling to break this moment of silent admission that yes, yes, this can work, this can be home, you can be home...

Ava is shocked when the detective’s fingers - scorching hot from the cup of coffee she’s been cradling - graze her knuckles lightly, so lightly that she’d wonder if it was even on purpose if she couldn’t feel her eyes on her once more.

“I don’t have anyone left anymore either. I know what it is like. Which is why I’m thankful that you’re here now,” she begins softly, her bare honesty so alluring Ava finds herself turning to her. She knows she shouldn’t. She knows she will force herself to punish her for this open admission with coldness and retreat, but for a second, she wants to pretend that this is allowed, that this is as right as it feels in her no longer trustworthy bones.

“You’re thankful you’re chasing a murderer on Christmas Eve?”

“I could do without that,” the detective snorts, deciding to take Ava’s blunt question as a joke. Her face grows serious too quickly, and before Ava can react, her hand is in her gentle grasp as the woman closes whatever little distance is left between them. “But not without you. Not now.”

Ava opens her mouth to say something, anything other than the truth, ready to take a full step back when the detective raises her eyes, poorly masking the pain that finds itself on her beautiful features. The agent feels cold dread seize her spine, like icy rain slipping down and over each vertebra - for a split second, she thinks the detective can feel her inner turmoil. That she always pulls away and retreats because she is terrified of her desire to do the very opposite.

“Ava, just... Please don’t say anything. I know what you want to say now. I know. But I don’t want to hear it,” she whispers, paralysing the vampire with mere words. “I know we don’t think the same way about voicing what we feel for each other. It is plain. I understand. But for a second I want to pretend that us holding hands and sharing a tender moment is just as innocuous as anything else.”

“But it isn’t,” Ava quickly speaks, the lie coming out almost seamlessly as she pulls her hand back slowly, clutching her now cool cup of coffee with both hands to prevent any further contact between them. “It is harmful. Can’t you see that?”

“I can.”

“And yet you don’t much care for it.”

“Do I look like a woman who cares much for societal conventions?” the detective asks as she finally steps away from Ava, gesturing around the room. The agent can’t help but silently agree - a woman who’s also a private detective, well, in a way she should have seen this argument coming.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t have to abide the rules,” Ava breathes, her usual strength still annoyingly eluding her as she takes a seat in one of the armchairs, the files and newspaper clippings once more within reach as she sets her cup down on the side table.

“You do not have to go to such lengths to prove what I already know,” the detective sighs in defeat, retreating behind her great mahogany desk, the only piece of furnishing aside from the once elegant, but now rather decrepit chaise longue that is worth something in this office. There’s a painful distance now between them, one that hurts them both, especially when put in stark contrast with their earlier close proximity.

“And what it is you think you know?” Ava means for her tone to get under the detective’s skin, to dislodge this idea stuck in her head that there’s something going on between them - instead it comes out too slow, too pleading, too deep and raw. A dead giveaway that perks up the woman like a hunting dog picking up on a scent. But she soon deflates - what she thinks a momentary victory is gone the second Ava looks away and focuses on the neat stack of folders she insisted on organising herself.

“That you’re afraid,” she replies anyways, opening a folder on top of her own stack and peering at Ava over it in a way that makes the vampire swallow her quip in an instant. There is truth in her words, and while she cannot, will not confirm it, she silently wants to speak to her. She silently wants to tell her the twisted things she makes her feel after 800 years of blessed solitude.

“But one day, you won’t be, Ava. And when that day comes, don’t be too surprised to find me waiting for you still.”

I am immortal. By the time I could rid myself of all my fears and stand in front of you as the uninhibited and unapologetic woman you deserve, you’d be long gone.

Immortal doesn’t mean infinitely wise, that is something Ava learns in another 365 days. Afraid doesn’t mean not being uninhibited. Cautious doesn’t mean not being unapologetic. The detective blurs the black and white of her world, and with this action the confining borders are gone too.

Four months and she won’t pull her hand away.

A year and she’ll let the detective tilt her face down to meet her lips with a kiss.

Two years and she will be long gone, four and the detective will be dead.

But now, she doesn’t know all that. Now, she buries the confusing conundrum of her love for the detective deep inside her and sets out to work in blissful ignorance.

#dottiechan writes #ava du mortain x detective #a du mortain x detective #the wayhaven chronicles #twc fanfic #ava du mortain #a du mortain

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allegra-writes · 4 years

Text

"Sunflower vol.3"

Peter Parker x SHIELD Agent! Reader

General audiences

Warnings: none

Part of the "Fine line" series. You and Peter move in together🌻

SERIES MASTERLIST | MY MASTERLIST

Peter carried the last box inside. That was it, it was official now, you were living together. The elevator doors closed behind him with a 'ding' and he couldn't help the smile that took over his face as he stepped into your apartment. No longer his, but yours, it belonged to the both of you. With you in it, it wasn't the penthouse at the New Avengers Tower anymore. No, with you in it, it was finally home. The thought alone of being able to fall asleep next to you every night, of waking up that very same way, of being all domestic with you, was exhilarating.

But not everyone seemed to share his happiness. Aunt May had been less than enthusiastic, saying he was too young, and it was way too soon to take that step. That you guys shouldn't rush into things.

And your family hadn't been much better. Because you might have had lost touch long ago with your biological parents, but that didn't mean you were alone in the world. He had soon learned that, much like him, you had a parent figure and mentor, yours in the shape of your Supervising Officer at S.H.I.E.L.D and curiously also named May, the woman who had rescued you from the wrecked remains of The Academy after the snap, who had take you in as part of her team, giving you shelter, a new family and a purpose in a world in ruins.

He had witnessed how difficult that particular phone conversation had been. His super senses had let him easily hear the implacable voice of the woman on the other side of the line, speaking words so much like his aunt's, telling you you didn't have to do this now, that you both had your whole lives in front of you.

"He's an avenger, and I'm an agent" You had replied, calmed and composed and so mature you made his argument with his aunt look like a tantrum, "In our line of work, life expectancy isn't exactly the longest. We lead short, violent lives, May, you know this better than anyone… don't you wish you could have had more time with Coulson?"

The line had gone silent for a long time after that, before the woman finally gave you a terse blessing. And you had deflated, emotionally exhausted, as soon as the line had gone silent.

"Maybe we should invite her for dinner" Peter had suggested, "I mean, I would be nervous too if my daughter was moving in with a stranger…"

You had rolled your eyes,

"She was deputy director of S.H.I.E.L.D for five years. Trust me babe, she probably knows more about you than yourself"

Peter had gulped. That wasn't disturbing at all. But he recovered quickly, suggesting you took a shower to help you relax, as he finished your unpacking for you. There wasn't much left anyway, only a few books and knick knacks, probably kept for sentimental value. He was nearly finished when he saw it, inside a crystal case cool to the touch, some kind of preserving device without a doubt, because it looked exactly the same as the day he had gotten it for you:

A beautiful sunflower corsage, the one he had planned inviting you to prom with. He had saved for over a month to be able to pay for it, taking it straight to school with him when he had finally bought it.

"... And are you sure she doesn't have a date yet?"

Ned had rolled his eyes at him,

"Completely. She blew off every guy that invited her. Even Brad Davis! Like she's waiting for the right guy to ask her!"

Peter clutched the little plastic container a little harder to stop it from slipping out of his sweaty hands. He had it bad, he knew that. But he was sure you liked him back, so maybe it was ok that his heart started doing summersaults inside his chest every time he saw you. Maybe it was alright if his stomach filled with butterflies every time you stood just a little too close to him, and he could smell your strawberry lipstick. Maybe it was ok to fall, as long as you fell for him too…

Speaking of butterflies, there you were, coming his way on the hallway, looking like a dream in your blue jeans and soft pink sweater that he loved so much, the one with the pastel colored butterflies that made you look like an angel. He quickly hid the corsage bringing his hands behind his back.

"Hi- He-hello. Hey! Hey, Y/n" He stammered like an idiot, but you didn't seem to notice, just smiling at him, big and bright as always.

"Hi, Peter. Ned" The boy acknowledged your greeting with a wave, eyes going from you to Peter and back again like an expectant puppy trailing a ball.

Peter cleared his throat.

"Ned don't you have to go do that thing?"

"What thing?"

"The thing we were talking about. So I can… do that other thing we were… talking about?"

"Huh?.. Oh! Yes… right. The thing… I'm gonna… yeah!"

You watched in amusement as he made his exit, pretending not to be looking over his shoulder every five seconds.

"So…" Peter began, fidgeting like he always did when he was next to you, too full of nervous energy to be able to stand still, "Tomorrow is the big night"

"Huh?" Was your eloquent, distracted reply, your eyes focused on something past him.

"Prom" He explained, sunflower still held firmly behind his back "Tomorrow is prom night"

That got your attention, gaze on him again.

"I- I was wondering… I mean, Ned says you don't have a date, a-and I don't either. Have a date, I mean" Smooth, Parker. Real smooth. "I was wondering if you would want to go with me on a pair. I- I mean, as a couple" Fuck, could he be anymore awkward? You were frowning in confusion, probably unable to translate all his gibberish into something that made sense. He stopped, taking a deep breath.

"What I'm trying to say" Peter finally managed to get out, "is…"

"I'm sorry," You interrupted, and it looked like you really did, "Peter...I'm not going to prom"

"Oh" The butterflies turned to led inside his stomach, dropping dead and leaving him nauseous, "I- I see…"

"I'm sorry" You repeated. He didn't respond, afraid if he opened his mouth, he couldn't hold back the sob that was threatening to escape his throat. "You should ask MJ, though. She… she really likes you, Pete"

He still didn't reply.

You opened your mouth to say more, but the bell chose that moment to ring, so instead, you just turned away stiffly and left for your first class.

Peter sniffed, feeling like the biggest idiot in the world. He had heard you say that before, to Amadeus Cho. But he had foolishly let himself be convinced it was just a little white lie to brush off the boys you didn't like. And maybe it was, probably was, and this time you were using it on him. He looked at the corsage, still beautiful and a little quirky and fucking perfect just like you. You hadn't even seen it, and now you never would. Because even if he did follow your advice and invited MJ, he wasn't going to just give it to her.

No, that corsage was meant for you and no one else. You were the sunflower, he couldn't just replace you. He wouldn't. So as soon as he walked by a trash can, he threw it in it, without looking back.

He never thought he would see it again, least of all like that, kept intact inside a glass case like something precious. You probably had gone back and rescued it from the garbage, while he wasn't looking.

Peter just stood there, amazed by the discovery, the revelation that you must have had feelings for him even back then,for an untold amount of time, until he heard movement in the kitchen.

You were there, of course, heating some water to make tea, wearing only his t-shirt, hair still damp from your shower, and his heart did a happy lap at the mundane scene. You both had come a long way from those school hallways and -he knew now- mutual pining.

"Hello, my love" Peter wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, chin coming to rest on your shoulder.

You leaned into the embrace.

"Hey, tiger"

"I didn't invite her, you know?" He blurted, "MJ. To prom, I mean"

"I know" you breathed out after a moment.

"I wanted it to be you. You or no one at all" He confessed, taking one of your hands in his, "I just wanted to dance with you"

You felt him slide something around your wrist, and you knew what it was even before looking.

"Y/n… would you go to prom with me?"

You turned in his arms, watery smile on your face,

"Yes, Peter, I would love to"

You leaned in for the kiss you were sure would follow, but your lips met nothing but air, as Peter fumbled to take his cellphone out of his pocket.

"Pete?"

"Yeah, just… one second. We need music"

"Karen, would you play some music for us?" You spoke to the ceiling, making Peter sheepishly put his phone inside his back pocket again.

"Of course, Agent 16"

Almost immediately the kitchen was filled with the not particularly pleasant lo-fi sounds of a strong bass line and a whining guitar.

I'm a singer in a band, but that's ok

Got the guitars to the right and…

Peter snorted,

"Karen, what the hell is this?"

"I believe the band's name is DANCEHALL, Peter"

"Well, it's awful!" He looked so offended, so affronted by Karen's choice in music that you couldn't help to laugh. "Change it now!"

"No! Karen, please leave this song" You managed to get out between chuckles. Peter threw you an incredulous look.

"Oh, come on!" You snickered, "can you really tell me the music at the dance was any better?"

"... Alright you got me there" your boyfriend shrugged, wrapping his arms around you again, balancing tentatively from side to side to the rhythm of the music.

I got some 47s they can burst to the face…

"Oh yeah, this is a really romantic song" He remarked, voice full of sarcasm

"What are you talking about? It's perfect!" You playfully slapped his shoulder, "Don't diss on our song!"

Peter looked about ready to have a stroke,

"Oh no! This is not our song! I refuse-"

"Shut up and kiss me, Parker"

So he did, deep and passionate, and far more skilled than what he would have been capable of back then, your bodies never stopping moving softly, completely out of sync with the melody.

I'm gonna ride into this town

I'm gonna burn this party down

I'm gonna ride into this town

I'm gonna burn this party down…

Your hands went to the back of his neck, fingers carding themselves through his soft curls, sunflower petals scratching at his nape. He fisted his hands in the cotton of his t-shirt, at your waist, sexier on you than any gown, your body pressed against his. And he never wanted you more than he did right there, kissing you in the middle of the kitchen, pretending it was a dancefloor.

He knew soon enough, he wouldn't be able to resist it, and he would lift you up onto the kitchen counter, stepping between your open, welcoming legs. Slipping inside your welcoming heat.

He knew soon enough, he would have you screaming his name to the ceiling of your new home…

But for now, you danced.

To be continued...

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #spider man #spider man fanfiction #fine line

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shinsousbedroom · 3 years

Text

Stars and their Distance

Daiya no Ace misawa FWB AU, 1/10 chapters

Miyuki Kazuya, a depressed, workaholic catcher in the NPB, and Sawamura Eijun, a frustrated influencer who just got dumped, are both looking for temporary distraction. The casual, no-strings-attached friends with benefits thing they stumble into is exactly that.

Well, it would be if either of them knew how to do casual.

[Read on AO3.]

Chapter 1: Spinning

Excerpt from “Ace of Hearts: a blog about when love comes outta left field!; Q&A: Bad Break-Up Blues”

“[…] Think of relationships like this. You’re a pitcher on the mound and there’s a line up of batters waiting to knock your ball outta the park. These are your dating prospects. When you’ve gotten hurt pitching before—tore a tendon, drilled the batter, balked, whatever it was—you might not wanna pitch again, right? But the only surefire way to lose the game is to not throw the ball at all.

“You might be thinking, ‘But Eijun, if the batter hits a home run off your pitch, aren’t you losing the game?’ Well, if you think the point of the game is to win, sure. But to me, the point of baseball isn’t victory. It’s playing the best game you can with the best players you can. The same can be said for love. Some batters will foul out early, and some runners will never make it all the way home. But when you make that connection, when that bat slams the ball out of the park and the whole field feels the electric rush of a phenomenal play that you helped make—isn’t that a beautiful moment to chase after? Isn’t that feeling worth the risk that comes with love?

“So no matter how unlikely a batter steps up to your plate—and there will be batters you didn’t anticipate—throw the pitch! I promise, every strikeout and home run just makes you a better pitcher and brings you a step closer to a beautiful game. […]”

***

“Did you have to move right after the end of the season?” Kuramochi wiped off the sweat from his face with the bottom of his blue shirt. The whole thing was already drenched dark, consistently doused with water the whole day through as Kuramochi drained bottles over his head to beat back the unseasonably hot September day. “Take a fucking break first, Miyuki.”

Kazuya spat out a handful of screws. The bitter, metallic aftertaste clung to his mouth. “Why delay?” he said, tossing the instruction manual for his shelf to the side in frustration. It skittered across the hardwood floor and into Chris’ calf.

Chris plucked the booklet up and thumbed through the pages of mildly helpful pictograms, eyeing them warily against Kazuya’s clear lack of progress. “Yeah, Miyuki. Why delay?”

Kazuya shot Chris a sour look and flopped back onto the ground with a groan, defeated. “Not like we’re busy during postseason this year.”

They sighed in unison, united in the bitterness of loss.

At least Chris’ team had been only one out from the Climax Series. The Swallows hadn’t come close, and even though it was expected from a rebuild year, the loss still rankled. Small mercies, though: Kazuya could rub in the fact that the Swallows hadn’t been last place in their league unlike the Mariners.

Suck it, Kuramochi. He’d take his victories where he could.

Kazuya stuck his hand into the air, spreading his fingers wide as the overhead lights filtered between them. “Anyway. Moving is work, and you all banned me from working for the next four months. So really, I’m being responsible here.” His hand flopped down next to him with a hard thunk.

Kuramochi trudged over, heavy steps echoing through the empty apartment, until his head popped into Kazuya’s vision, arms crossed and scowl fierce. “If you wanna try to fight this again, just give me a fucking reason to pin you into a headlock until you’re crying for mercy.”

Kazuya grabbed at his ankle, rolling onto his stomach for a second swipe as Kuramochi danced out of reach.

“You can’t pull a fast one on the cheet—AH!”

His ankles caught the edge of the shelf boards, knocking Kuramochi onto his ass. The wooden slats scraped across each other as they slid out of their neat stacks, thumping and scratching the floor until they were criss-crossed between Kazuya cackling into the floor on his stomach and Kuramochi, shocked and sprawled across the debris.

“Fucking build your furniture, Miyuki!” He cradled his foot in his hands, holding it up to inspect as he twisted it every which way. “We’re not doing the same thing as last time, when it took you a full year to finally put all your shit together.”

The weight of apathy slid back into Kazuya’s limbs, edging out the laughter that had given him a moment of relief. “What if I just didn’t?”

“Is that what you want?” Chris replied evenly.

He lolled his head towards Chris. Despite the heat, Chris had spent all day in a black turtleneck, never once hinting he was even mildly uncomfortable even at the peak of the day’s heat, lugging in heavy boxes from the sun-warmed streets. Now sitting on the floor among bubble wrap and crumpled paper, legs kicked out in front of him and waves of brown bangs framing his face, he still looked as wholly put together as ever.

Even when Kazuya knew beyond a doubt Chris was the epitome of keeping a stone face even when he was going through the worst of it, he still couldn’t help but be jealous.

Kazuya went back to staring at the unfamiliar gray tiles on his new ceiling. “It would be pretty funny to leave my apartment unfurnished to spite Kuramochi.”

“Finish the shelf.” Chris tossed the manual back.

“Kominato’s the one who left the task half-done,” Kazuya said, closing his eyes, overwhelmed in a sudden wash of fury and helplessness.

He opened his eyes to see Kuramochi and Chris hovering above him again. Both their brows were furrowed, Kuramochi’s fist clenched at his collar, Chris frowning mildly.

“I’m fine,” Kazuya said brusquely.

They glanced at each other, then back at Kazuya.

He sat up, forcing the other two to reel back to avoid knocking their heads together. “I’m 27, not 7,” he said, testily. “I don’t need to be put under a watch, I’m a grown ass adult.”

“We aren’t gonna—we can’t sit to the side and watch you nearly kill yourself from overwork again this off-season.”

“Don’t exaggerate—“

“You said you had it together last year, but you didn’t. So you’re getting strict rules this year,” Kuramochi tugged at his hair, a frustrated sneer on his face. “The Swallows and your agent both know not to let you pile on more than your bare minimum until preseason. And the rest of us are going to check on you regularly because we care about your health, even when you don’t. Got it?”

“It’s not overwork,” he said, falling into the same argument that had been chipping away at him for a year now.

“Then what is it?”

The only coping mechanism that works. The only way I can pretend to feel anything off the diamond. The only thing that makes me tired enough to sleep at night without baseball 24/7.

He settled on: “It’s just work. Making a living, some might say.”

“Hard to do that when you’re stuck in a hospital bed.”

“That won’t happen again. I was just stressed and tired and a bad day caught me off guard.”

“Yeah, it won’t again because we’re gonna help make sure the off-season doesn’t wreck you again after a long history of hiding your fucking problems until they explode.”

“At least you can’t take conditioning away from me.”

“Follow the plan your trainers set for you.” Chris’ voice cut into Kazuya’s stubbornness. “Please don’t joke about this with me.”

After a moment, Kazuya nodded his head, brusque.

Kuramochi rubbed the back of his neck, trying to break the awkward air that had sprung up between them. “Isn’t exercise supposed to help depressed people? Boost your serotonin up or some shit like that?”

“Just my luck it doesn’t,” Kazuya muttered. He cleared his throat. “Can we go back to harassing me about how bad I am at unpacking?”

“We wouldn’t harass you if you just did it.” Kuramochi stood back up and kicked at a box as he went back to sweeping the floors. “Unpack before the season starts up again. You have nearly five months. If you’re feeling feisty, try decorating your apartment, too.”

“My entire personality is baseball. I don’t care about interior design. Or anything else, for that matter.”

“You used to. Pick up your old hobbies. Bring out that telescope you had at back at Waseda. Read a memoir. All the shit you can’t do during the season, drag ‘em out into the open again.”

The wrong answer, he knew, was to reiterate that he didn’t care about any of that anymore. Seriously. “You two are busy-bodies.”

Chris handed him the power drill then returned to the pile of securely wrapped glass kitchenware. “It’s called friendship,” he said, bubble wrap crinkling.

“This is ridiculous.”

“Just try, Miyuki. Please.”

“Sure,” he said, flippantly, knowing the lie didn’t pass unnoticed from the sag in Kuramochi’s shoulders. He thumbed through the instructions, pushing aside the guilt welling into his throat. Kazuya needed this conversation to be over. “Chris-senpai, where’d you put the drill bits?”

***

“Hjnhbgfgvbhnjmknjbhgvfdbghnjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj” wasn’t the most eloquent start to Eijun’s next blog post. Of course, Eijun normally didn’t start his articles by rolling his face across the keyboard in frustration, but considering how little he’d written in the past week, this was as good a draft as any.

Eijun’s eyes flung open as the laptop shifted from under his face, tipping his head off to thunk into the table. He rubbed at his forehead, and blinked up to find Harucchi tapping delicately at the keyboard while the other hand balanced the device in the air. “Eijun-kun,” said Harucchi, peering from around the screen, “not your finest work.”

Eijun sat up and scowled, the lines of his face scrunching against the keyboard indents on his skin. “What would you know about it?”

“I’ve been editing your posts for years,” Harucchi said. He settled the laptop in front of Eijun, then settled into the chair across from him. “If you’d like me to stop now, I can happily use that time in other ways.”

The dishes rattled when Eijun slammed his palm onto the table. “You’re not allowed to ditch me like that!”

Harucchi raised his eyebrows. “Says the man who’s been avoiding me.”

A double blow of panic and then confusion struck him. He frowned and swiveled his head around. Snaking line at the counter, coffee scenting the air, a low hum of incomprehensible chatter: this was definitely the coffee shop he’d just discovered this morning and came to by himself and didn’t tell Harucchi about. “How’d you find me?”

“You should stop posting your location on Instagram if you don’t want to be found,” he offered with a gentle smile.

“You don’t live anywhere near here.”

“A teammate just moved to the neighborhood. It was pure luck I happened to be there while you happened to be here.” He ran his fingers against the edge of a plate by Eijun’s elbow, empty of all but crumbs. “It’s a cute shop. New haunt for you?” he asked, a touch too casual.

Eijun averted his eyes, lips pinching. He knew what Harucchi was really asking. “I’m fine.”

“I didn’t ask that.”

“I’m doing fine,” Eijun insisted. “Really.”

“I’m glad you stopped feeling obligated to go to the other cafe.” His voice was barely loud enough to reach Eijun, covered by the clatter and call of employees, and a particularly rowdy group of seven students packed at a four person table next to his little corner.

“The old place got too many baristas who sucked,” Eijun lied. As if Harucchi didn’t already know that he’d only just shoved his pride aside enough to accept he’d lost his favorite coffee shop to the break-up. “Had to find a new one.”

Harucchi pried open the plastic lid to his coffee, blowing at the steam rising from the cup. He drew in a long, slow slip of his drink. “Maybe a fresh start here means a fresh start with the blog. Talk about grinding new beans, or something…?” Eijun blanched, well aware that Harucchi’s innocent reputation was a front.

“If you think I am going to subject my loyal followers to love advice using bean grinding as the topic—”

“You’ll have to excuse me if you had an idea in mind already. I’d thought from the keysmashing that you hadn’t.” Eijun aimed a kick at his shin under the table. Without looking, Harucchi crossed his legs, as if he’d planned on it for that exact moment all along instead of the attempt to dodge Eijun’s ire that it really was. “Is there a reason you can’t find an appropriate topic for your next post?”

Eijun cheeks puffed out, determined for two whole seconds not to tell Harucchi the truth, before blurting out, “I promised Wakana we’d wait a few months before officially announcing we broke up.” And yep—there it was, that classic Kominato passively skeptical look that circled past nonjudgmental so thoroughly that it ended up aggressively intimidating. The one that meant Harucchi was seconds away from bulldozing through all the nonsense he was seeing ahead of him. Eijun lived in terror of it. “She wanted to give us a chance to recuperate in private first,” he muttered, defensive.

“Eijun-kun.”

“I know, I know! A smart idea for people like Wakana, but I don’t…like wallowing like this. I can’t keep sitting here thinking about how much she doesn’t want me, and it’s all I want to write about. But I can’t post any of it. It’s been nearly two months, and I haven’t moved on. I’ve just gotten madder.”

“You two didn’t consider posting a small announcement saying you were over but you needed time? Space?”

“I couldn’t ask her.” Eijun subsided, spinning his teacup in its saucer with a single finger hooked through its tiny handle. “I owe her, Harucchi. The only reason I started lifestyle and romance blogging was because Wakana got me into it. I made my start on her profiles with her followers. Talking about her now? Why we broke up? Even if I want to, it sounds like betraying her. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m trying to talk shit about her, when we’re both in the same influencer circles.”

Harucchi tilted his head, and when Eijun didn't continue on after several seconds, he prompted, “There’s more.”

So much for the dumb jock stereotype.

“If I write it, then I feel like I’m giving up on her. On us ever being something together, again.” He crossed his arms onto the table, elbows shoving the dishes and laptop uncomfortably close to the edge of the small table, and laid his head on his forearms. He closed his eyes, and said quietly into his chest, “I still love her, Harucchi.”

“I know, Eijun-kun.” A warm hand squeezed his elbow. Between their silence, the monstrous table of college students packed up and left, and suddenly the shop settled into a calm Eijun needed.

He poked his head up from the comfort of his arms to stare at Harucchi. He was steadily sipping his coffee, one hand resting on Eijun’s elbow. His pink hair had pulled out of the bun at his nape and fell into windswept wisps framing his face and neck. He’d long since stopped wearing Ryou-san’s hand-me-downs in favor of softer, luxe sweaters and slacks, the only true expense he indulged in despite his lucrative status as a rising star for the Swallows.

Altogether, he looked gentle, dangerously so. On the diamond or off, it was easy to be lulled into a sense of security right before he whacked an unpleasant truth out of the park.

Harucchi pulled his hand back and apologized with a glance. Eijun wasn’t sure why…until he started speaking. “You make a living off of posting about your life—and romance, in particular. You’ve never hidden your past relationship troubles from your followers, however difficult it was to express. It’s part of your brand at this point.”

Eijun’s mouth twisted as he sat up. “Wakana isn’t a branding tool.”

“No one is saying that,” Harucchi said patiently. “What I am saying: you underestimate how much of your own work goes into your success. Aotsuki was certainly helpful—but your personality and your words are why people stay. People trust you.

“You’re good at what you do, Eijun-kun. You’re honest and kind in your observations, to yourself, to your partners, to strangers, despite how difficult and personal love is. When the time comes, whatever you post about Aotsuki will be the same.” Harucchi shrugged. “Also, I’ll edit out anything that makes you sound insensitive.”

Eijun let out a heavy sigh, stretching his arms into the air and shaking off the melancholy. “Thanks for not letting me fall on my own sword.”

“What are friends for?”

For all that he felt better, though, Eijun was still stuck staring at a blinking cursor at the end of a line of drivel. “That still doesn’t solve my problem. I don’t have a clue what to post next. The schedule I followed is trash now without personal updates of me and Wakana. I haven’t been able to binge any of the manga or shows I wanted to review, either. All I got left is the advice column, but if I keep that up with nothing else, I might as well change the blog name to Dear Eijun instead of Ace of Hearts.”

Harucchi stared at him, calculating out something as he took in Sawamura’s restlessness. “You don’t have to keep writing about romance.”

“That’s what I started the blog for.”

“But that’s not why you started writing and recording back at Seidou. You’ve had success with your baseball analysis and tutorials on YouTube and Instagram. You could even say you’ve been neglecting them to chase after romance.”

Eijun groaned, loud and theatrical enough to make the meek businessman behind him jump in shock. “Maybe if I got as much engagement talking about how stupid the idea of celebrity athletes are when it’s a team sport—”

“See?” he cut in, tilting his cup toward Eijun. “You already have a topic to post about.”

“Baseball is my hobby, not my job,” he said mulishly, jaw jutting out. “My dad wrecked his love of music that way! I’m not gonna risk hating baseball after he spent my whole life yelling at me not to ‘monetize my interests’ while holding me in a headlock. That’s asking for the biggest lecture of my life!”

“You can always stop if it’s not the direction you want to go. You’re not getting married to the idea.”

“Don’t bring up marriage, I just got dumped!”

Harucchi pressed his lips together in a thin line. “Fine, don’t think of it as a marriage,” he said. From Harucchi, the sliver of impatience he let free was the equivalent of hauling Eijun by the collar and shaking him down. “Flirt with baseball. Go on a few dates. Get a benefit or two out of it. Does the metaphor suffice now?”

Eijun gasped. “Harucchi! You’re too innocent for that sort of talk!”

“My brother is Kominato Ryousuke, and my best friend writes a blog about romance and sex that I edit,” he said, even as his quiet voice went squeaky and his face mottled bright red from embarrassment.

“Maybe I should change my blog to save you the embarrassment.”

“I also admit I have a request of you,” Harucchi said sheepishly, pressing a hand to his cheek. “The Swallows want me to get more heavily involved in PR this offseason, and I could use your help figuring out what I’d actually like to do instead of going along with every idea they propose. I’ve seen what they make the other players do, and I’m not interested in doing the exact type of promo they’ve done the past few seasons.”

Eijun crossed his arms and leaned back, chin tilting up defensively. “If you’re trying to convince me by pretending you need help—”

Harucchi shook his head, bangs bouncing across his forehead. “I hope you’ll find value or inspiration in it, too, but I was going to ask, regardless.” He grimaced into his cup. “The players who carry most of the strain of Swallows marketing are…otherwise occupied this offseason. I was volunteered to step in; management’s been wanting me to raise my profile for a while. I can’t really say no, so I may as well make the most of it.”

“I don’t want a pity job.”

“Please, be reasonable.” Harucchi smiled the shy, dreamy, polished smile the Swallows had been trying to splash across their advertising since he joined the team. “It’s a pity favor.”

Eijun snorted, relaxing into his chair again. “Fine,” he said, pulling open a clean document on his laptop. “Let’s brainstorm.”

#daiya no ace #daiya no a #misawa #daiya no ace fanfic #lolo's fic writing tag

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alyblacklist · 4 years

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Ressler & Liz and the “light”

There’s been a lot of discussion/debate both here and on Twitter about JB’s recent end-of-season interview where he discussed that final Ressler/Liz scene of “Brothers” and said:

The original break of the story, [Ressler] did call Red and – and that’s what the original move – that’s what the move is, you know, and with where we were going in mind, it felt like maybe we need to – you know, it needs to be her that he calls and that’s actually my favorite scene in the whole episode. I thought she was fantastic and – and, um, their sort of relationship this season has been very unusual and – and as she’s sort of drifting away and - or closer to, you know, whatever is this sort of organic, you know, DNA part of her, he’s this like light that is – represents good and the Boy Scout and all the stuff and, and um, I think that’s why he’s sort of become more interesting to her, uh, more special in a way, because of the contrast, you know, that juxtaposition. I think it’s interesting, their relationship’s interesting.

Below are my thoughts on Jon’s reference to Ressler as a source of “light” for Liz and why I was happy to hear him say it and felt it was consistent both with the evolution of those characters and their relationship over the seasons. I welcome constructive discussion (and criticism), but it’s no secret that I am a Ressler fan, and a Keenler shipper, so if you absolutely hate one or both of those things, you probably won’t like this post (also fair warning - it’s a long post).

The show continually draws on the classic literary themes of light and dark, in which “light” typically represents good, positivity, happiness, hope etc. while “dark” typically represents bad, negativity, sadness, despair, etc. Each of the main characters have struggled internally with balancing the light and dark over the seasons but for purposes of this post, I am focusing on Liz and Ressler.

In Mako Tanida (1x16) when Ressler was hell-bent on revenge for Audrey’s death, Red warned him:

“Agent Ressler. Once you cross over, there are things in the darkness that can keep your heart from ever feeling the light again.”

In the back half of Season 5, when Liz was basically in the same situation that Ressler was in back in S1, Red similarly cautioned her in Ruin (5x09):

Red: I want you to promise me something. Liz: What? Red: That you’ll grieve. Liz: Of course I’ll grieve. What is this that you think I’m doing? Red: I think you’re running away from your problems when you should be facing them. I’m sure it feels like you’re staring into an abyss, but until you mourn, you won’t be able to cross it. Liz: What’s so great about crossing it? What’s on the other side? Peace? Tranquility? Red: Some. Liz: I prefer revenge. Red: That’s what I’m afraid of. Liz: Really? ‘Cause imagining what I’m gonna do to Tom’s killers is the only thing that gets me out of bed in the morning. Red: Don’t just go off and hide in the dark. Wherever you go, look for some light.

Red knows this struggle all too well, because he has already gone down that path. He’s already landed in the darkness, as he explained so eloquently to Liz in Luther Braxton (2x09):

Red: It may be hard for you to imagine, but I once had a relatively normal life– bills to pay, playdates, family, some friends, people to care about. Lost all that. Liz: Lost how? Red: In Mexico, there are these fish that have colonized the freshwater caves along Sierra del Abra.They were lost. They found themselves living in complete darkness. But they didn’t die. Instead, they thrived. They adapted. They lost their pigmentation, their sight, eventually even their eyes. With survival, they became hideous. I’ve rarely thought about what I once was. But I wonder if a ray of light were to make it into the cave, would I be able to see it? Or feel it? Would I gravitate to its warmth? And if I did, would I become less hideous?

These themes of light and dark also intersect with the themes of forgiveness, salvation and redemption. As Red explains to Liz in Tom Connolly (2x22):

I’m a sin eater. I absorb the misdeeds of others, darkening my soul to keep theirs pure.

And in The Kilgannon Corporation (5x07), Red explains to Liz how Dembe tries to save Red’s soul from the darkness:

Red: You ever wonder why Dembe stays with me? Why anyone so decent would spend his days at the side of someone so indecent? Liz: You saved him. He owes you his life. He protects you because you protected him. Red: No, Elizabeth. Dembe didn’t stay with me because he saw me as his savior. He stayed with me because he saw me for the man I really was – a man surrounded by darkness. No friends who could be trusted, no faith that loyalty or love could ever truly exist. I was– Well, I was younger then. Angrier. Dembe connected his life with mine to show me, that day and every day, that the world is not what I fear it to be. He is the light in the darkness. Living proof that there is another way, that life can be good, that people can be kind, that a man like me might one day dream of becoming a man like him. He pledged his life, offered it up as evidence that I was wrong about this world. Dembe guards my life because he’s determined to save my soul.

At the end of Ruin, Liz returns from Alaska and admits to Red that she’s still in a dark place:

Liz: I tried. I really did. I didn’t go looking for trouble. But it found me. And I’m glad it did. Red: What happened? Liz: I killed some men. Doesn’t matter that they were bad. That it was them or me. What matters is that I did it and I was good at it. And I didn’t lose any sleep over it. Red: You will. One of these nights you will. It’s just a matter of when. Liz: Maybe. Later. After I’ve crossed the abyss. But from the side I’m on now, all that matters is that I’m healed and – I’m back. And I’m coming for Tom’s killers. Like I said, I couldn’t keep my promise. Can you forgive me? Red: Yes. Will you be able to forgive yourself?

And in the next episode, The Informant, as Ressler is struggling with how to handle Prescott, Red also discusses forgiveness:

Forgiveness doesn’t mean accepting what you’ve done, Donald. It means understanding that the line dividing good and evil cuts through the hearts of all of us.

This is important for Ressler, who has struggled to accept that mixture of each, both in himself and in others. But by the end of the episode, Ressler is ready to choose the light, to do the right thing, to try to pull himself out of the darkness he’s been living in:

Red: You were preoccupied. Ressler: I was crazed. And convinced I should kill the man who shot her. Do you remember what you told me to do? Red: I told you to go home. You didn’t. Ressler: You said that once you cross over, there are things in the darkness that can keep your heart from ever feeling the light again. I didn’t go home, but I never crossed over. I never thanked you for that. Red: Nor should you. Your circumspection afforded me the opportunity to take care of Audrey’s killer myself. It was a win-win. Ressler: I didn’t want Prescott’s real name so that I could kill him. I wanted it so I could arrest him. Red: He goes to prison, so will you. Ressler: I know, but I’m in the darkness, and doing the right thing is the only way I’ll ever feel the light again.

Against Ressler’s wishes, Red acts as sin eater again (as does Cooper in accepting Ressler’s confession but refusing to pass it through the proper channels). Because in Red’s view:

Sins should be buried like the dead. Not that they may be forgotten, but that we may remember them and find our way forward nonetheless.

In Season 7, in Brothers (7x17), we learn that Ressler has an even larger skeleton in his closet. Once again, he is concerned about doing the “right thing,” because he can’t live with the secret hanging over him any longer. This is his way forward, back into the light.

Ressler: Well, say you agree with me about how we should handle this. I mean, we arrest those bastards who took the car – for theft, for extortion, for all the other poison they pump into the city. And then after that – my brother and I come clean about what we’ve done. Liz: I don’t know that I do agree. After the story you told me, after what you’ve been through – both of you– Ressler: No, we have to do the right thing. It’s important. Liz: Of course, yes, I will help you. I just want to make sure you’re prepared to face the consequences when the FBI gets their hands on that vehicle and that body. Because if we go in and arrest those people, eventually, the FBI’s gonna open up that trunk. Ressler: And find Tommy Markin. I know. Liz: Are you really okay with dealing with the consequences of that? Ressler: I’ve been running from this my whole life. I need it to be done. We both need it to be done.

This time, Liz acts as his sin-eater and makes the body disappear. So how does this all fit together in terms of Ressler and Liz and their relationship?

Liz has always seen Ressler as a good person, as someone on the side of light rather than dark. Even when he was hunting her as a fugitive in Season 3, she still defended him in Eli Matchett (3x03) after Red questioned why she reached out to Ressler for help:

Red: Ressler is a law-enforcement robot. The FBI winds him up– Liz: That’s not true. He’s a person. He’s a good person. Red: Look at me. You need to let that go, Lizzy. I have survived for a very long time now, and I assure you, I didn’t do it by relying on the goodness in people.

At the same time, she’s questioning whether she herself is still a good person.

Liz: I shot a cop. Red: Yes, you did. Liz: And killed the Attorney General of the United States. Red: Yes. And when you did that you crossed a threshold, leaving your world, entering mine. Bad things are gonna find you now, Lizzy. This life has a mind and a momentum of its own. That’s a reality you need to accept. Bad things happen to good people. Liz: Am I a good person? I’m not so sure anymore.

By the time we get to Season 7, and Brothers, Ressler is the one calling Liz the better person as he prepares to turn himself in:

You know, Keen– I didn’t like you when we first met. I was wrong. You’re a good agent. You’re the kind of agent that – people join the FBI to try to become. But you’re also a good person. Much better person than I am. So, whatever happens out there today, the Task Force is gonna be in good hands with you.

But she doesn’t let him - as she explains later, for herself, not for him, because she needs the peace and stability that he provides in her life, she needs that “tiny island of calm,” amidst the dark forces that surround her.

Liz: Have you looked at my life? I’m a widow and a single mom. A marionette – with a high-functioning sociopath pulling my strings. My grandfather tried to murder my mother, and my mother is a legendarily lethal Russian spy – who moved in next door without even telling me who she was. I mean it. Have you looked at my life? I mean, really taken a close look. Because it’s like I’m in the middle of a monsoon that’s constantly threatening to drown me in bad news. And somewhere in the middle of that FEMA disaster of a life– Somewhere is just – a tiny island of calm. And if that weren’t there, I would be swept out to sea. Ressler: No, that’s never gonna happen– Liz: It would if you weren’t here. Ressler: But I am. And it won’t. Come here. It’s never gonna happen. Not on my watch.

Ressler has consistently represented peace and calm and stability to Liz amidst the chaos. It’s there from the very beginning when she clings to him after the Stewmaker ordeal at the end of 1x04, it’s there again when they hug in Mato 4x02 after he shows up at the Summer Palace, it’s there in Dr. Bodgan Krilov (4x19) when she envisions a peaceful future for Ressler watching the sunset from his lake house while Hitchin goes to jail:

Liz: I didn’t do it for you. I did it for him. Hitchin: Fair enough, but you did it, and for that, I’m grateful. Liz: Donald Ressler represents what’s best about this country. He’s loyal and honest, and he believes that no one – no one – is above the law. And I believe that one day, you’ll be the one being dragged off in handcuffs. And he’ll be walking into his lake house to watch the sunset.

It’s there in Season 5, the first episode that they share a meaningful scene together after Ruin, and The Informant, when Ressler is talking about “silver linings,” in the Capricorn Killer (5x16) as he wraps his arm around her.

So for me, Jon calling Ressler a "light that is – represents good and the Boy Scout and all the stuff” is completely consistent with all of that has come before between these two characters and isn’t something Jon just made up out of whole cloth. More importantly, the fact that he characterizes Ressler as “more interesting” to Liz now because of the contrast, and the juxtaposition between her darkness and his “light” is also encouraging to me insofar as I don’t want to see the show end violently - I want to see it end with Red and Liz at peace and with Liz achieving the calm, normal life she’s always wanted (and which Red has promised her for seasons now she will have in the end). So the fact that she’s still interested in light and peace and calm, despite her step further into the darkness at the end of 7.19, is an encouraging sign to me that Liz is not entirely lost.

Back in Season 3, in a midseason interview with The Blacklist Exposed between episodes 3x08 and 3x09, Jon said that Liz “is definitely on a dark path...and I think she will continue to be,” and that “it’s a battle for her soul, it’s a battle for can she survive going through this process.”

There’s a conversation between Ressler and Cooper in the comics (The Arsonist, #6) that illustrates that Ressler’s concern back then wasn’t just preventing Liz from being physically killed, or “beating” Red, but more a fear of losing her to Red’s world - that the darkness would overtake her.

Ressler: I want to bring her in while she’s still...her. Every second she’s out there Reddington’s turning her into someone else. Cooper: That may be, but it’s your job to catch her Donald. It’s not your job to save her.

Four seasons later, I think it’s still a battle for Liz’s soul, but an internal battle that has never really gone away. The battle is not Reddington turning her into someone else, but rather own struggle against her dark impulses, her own struggle to fight for some light, some peace, some calm in her life amidst the chaos. And for that, I think she needs someone to help pull her back from the brink before she takes that step too far, someone to remind her that there is another way.

I hope going forward into next season, that will be Ressler, who will draw on his own experience battling his own demons and help prevent Liz from slipping into the abyss. Does that mean that Keenler will end up a romantic couple in the end? Not necessarily (though personally I hope so). But I take Jon’s comments as a positive sign that Ressler will be a positive force in her life as she steps into yet another battle.

Wine for all those who made it this far!

#the blacklist #donald ressler #elizabeth keen #keenler #jon bokenkamp #theories #long post #really long post #I resisted gifs and images to try to keep it shorter

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