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forever-rogue · 2 years

Note

I love the prompts you’ve been reblogging P!

“Do I really want to know?” & "I can't smile at you, I'm mad." with Marc Spector sounds hilarious, he is a menace that makes up for it by being soft and cute.

AN | In which Marc is a menace, as we all know he is. Enjoy! 🥰

Pairing | Marc Spector x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Slight language, almost spice but nothing explicit

Word Count | 1.1k

Masterlist | Main, Moon Knight

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

You hadn’t heard him coming in through the sound of the running water and podcast you had going on in the background. When the shower curtain was gently drawn back, you almost had a heart attack, your first instinct to shield your body.

“Baby, it’s just me,” as soon as you realized it was Marc, you relaxed and let out a long sigh, “I called your name, to be fair.”

“How was I supposed to hear it above all of this noise?” you rolled your eyes dramatically. You studied him, a frown tugging down the corners of your mouth as you realized there was some dried blood on his face…and his clothes, “oh Marc. Do I really want to know?”

“It’s fine,” he insisted, smiling hesitantly, trying to gauge whether or not you were more mad or concerned, “you should-”

“See the other guy,” you finished for him, lightly shaking your head, “Marc. You need to…please don’t get hurt. I don’t know what else to say other than to be careful.”

“Come on, baby,” he gave you a small pout as you reached up to lightly wipe away some of the caked blood, “‘m fine. Nothing bad.”

“Don’t look at me like that. Do you see me smiling? I can’t smile at you,” there was a look of exasperation on your face that caused his stomach to churn. He despised the idea that he hurt you in any way, “I’m mad.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Either he was really clueless or he had a lot of audacity, “Marc Spector, you cannot seriously be asking me that question.”

“Umm…”

“I’m mad because you’re so reckless,” you huffed, throwing your hands around. You reached for the collar of his shirt and gently pulled it off him. He complied wordlessly, lifting his arms to assist. You tossed it across the bathroom before repeating the action with his pants, letting him hold your hand as he kicked off his jeans and boxers and socks, “come on, get in here.”

Marc made a small sound in the back of his throat before stepping into the warmth of the shower as you closed the curtain again. You switched places with him, letting him get the warmth of the water on what you were sure was his sore back, “I’m mad because I’m scared that one day you’re going to come home and I’m not going to be able to help you, to make it better. I don’t want that to happen, Marc. You might be an asshole, but you’re my asshole. I want to keep it that way.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed as he hung his head before letting out a long sigh, “I don’t want you to worry. I promise I’ll be more careful.”

“You’ve said that before,” you put your finger under his chin and tilted his face up to meet yours, “I worry because I care about you - I love you - not because I’m trying to be some sort of controlling bitch.”

“I know,” he took your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm, “I know. I’ll do my best. Pinky promise.”

“Fine,” you couldn’t help but laugh lightly as you hooked your pinky around his, “this is a pinky promise though, bad things will happen if you break it.”

“I won’t plan on doing that then,” he grinned, “there is one more thing - just remember you love me…”

“Marc…”

“I might have tracked in some blood when I got home,” he said sheepishly as you groaned, “I’ll clean it up! Just don’t panic when you see it.”

“What am I going to do with you?” you ran a hand through his wet curls before leaning in to kiss him gently, “come on, let me take care of you.”

“You don’t have to-”

“It’s not up for negotiation, Spector,” you grabbed the bottle of shampoo before gently turning him around. You squeezed some of the shampoo into your hand before starting to massage into his scalp, “let me do this for you. I want to.”

“You gonna let me do the same for you?” his words quickly melted into a groan at how good your little scalp massage felt, “fuck that feels so good.”

“Don’t get too used to it,” you poked his side in his ticklish area and he immediately squirmed under your touch, “and no, you’re not doing this for me…today.”

“Why not?” he turned around as you washed the shampoo out of his air, watching it swirl down the drain along with some of the old blood, tinging it a light pink, “baby…”

“If I let you touch me, we’re never going to make it out of the shower,” you raised an eyebrow as a sheepish expression crossed his features. It wasn’t totally what he had in mind, but he was most definitely not opposed to the idea, “and as much as I like having sex with you, now is not the time. Your side’s already bruising, and I’m not going to let you hurt yourself more.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t-”

“It does, and that is final,” you insisted firmly. Your serious face lasted about two seconds before you couldn’t stop yourself from kissing his pout. He instantly melted into your touch and wrapped his arms around you. You hadn’t intended for it to go this far but when he gently backed you against the cool tile wall, you didn’t stop him. You put your hand on his chest to stop him only when you were thoroughly breathless, “Marc. I’m supposed to be in charge. You’re taking advantage of my love for you.”

“It’s cute when you think you’re in control,” you wanted to slap that little smirk off of his face, but didn’t have the heart to do it. Not when he was looking at you like that with those eyes. You were weak for him, and he knew it, “won’t you be a good girl and let me take care of you?”

“M-marc,” you sighed softly as his hand ran down your side, stopping just above your backside.

“I’ll be careful,” he promised as he leaned in to kiss you again, “and gentle.”

“Don’t be,” you said breathlessly in between kisses, “don’t hurt yourself but don’t be gentle.”

“Whatever you want baby,” he grinned, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you gasped lightly at the feeling of his lips moving along your jaw and down your throat, “now touch me.”

#marc spector #marc spector x fem!reader #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x you #oscar isaac x reader #moon knight #steven grant

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grantspectortrash · 2 years

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The Bird Ruins Date Night

Pairing: Marc Spector x Reader (w/ mentions of Moon Boys x Reader)

Summary: Every month you and your friends go out and do something fun. This time you get your palms read, and your boyfriend Marc joins you. Unfortunately, so does Khonshu.

Warnings/tags: Mentions of trauma & a bit of angst from Marc. But mostly good vibes (I promise). Established relationship, kisses, relationship things.

Word Count: 2.2K

A/N: credit to @perioddramasource for the GIF. This isn't my usual thing to write but it was a requested fic & I really enjoyed doing a bit of research for it, so I hope you guys enjoy! As always, if I portrayed anything incorrectly please call me out on it!

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"Marc, please! It'll be fun!" You're trying to convince your boyfriend, but he's shoved his fingers in his ears and is blatantly ignoring you. You give him a playful push as he's on the couch beside you, and fakes falling off. He laughs and slides up next to you.

"I don't know Y/N..." Marc glances at his watch. You're supposed to leave to meet your friends in an hour and he knows you're going to leave with, or without, him.

"It's our week to have a date night and this is the perfect opportunity. You know it." You pause the show the pair of you were watching and try to get off the couch.

Marc pulls you back and wraps you in his arms, "Yeah I know, baby. But it's not exactly a date if all your friends are there. Maybe we can stay in and cuddle?"

He very slowly begins to squeeze you in his arms, and you wriggle and laugh.

"Oh come on! Sure my friends will be there, just imagine it as like a bunch of platonic double dates...a quadruple date, if you will."

There's a beat of silence, and Marc sighs. He stops squeezing, knowing that you'll want to start to get ready soon. You stand up from the couch and make a pouty face, "Steven would do it."

Something passes through Marc, and you know he's talking to Steven, seeing if what you're saying is true. The genius thing about having three boyfriends is that sometimes, only sometimes, you can get them to do something, simply because another one of them would do it. You like to think of it as a bit of healthy competitive-ism.

Marc shoots up from the couch, "That's it. Even Jake said he'd do it. I can't believe these idiots are convincing me to do this."

An hour later the pair of you meet up with your friends. You see them once a month to do fun and crazy activities you wouldn't normally do. Marc came to one of them before - an evening of paintballing. It's safe to say you were glad Marc was on your team, and the rest of your mates were convinced Marc was some sort of paintballing god. You had stifled a laugh at that.

Even though Marc shared the body with Jake and Steven, it was way easier explaining to your friends that you just had one boyfriend like any other person, not three boyfriends who all were living in the same body. Sometimes you'd nearly slip up and say the wrong name to your friends, but you always managed to recover it. So, for friendly gatherings, Marc was Marc and Marc alone.

Tonight, you're seeing a palm-reader, and you could tell why Marc was feeling nervous. His body held secrets that might even spook a clairvoyant.

"It'll be okay, I promise." You whisper to Marc as your friends gather at the front of the building. It's a cute little place in the centre of the city, it's exterior playing on the traditional fortune-teller vibes of flickering neon signs that look like candles, and a black cat statue at the door. It's a little cheesy, but it also reminds you of how old and important chiromancy is. It's something that has existed for generations, and it's something that has always intrigued you. As your friends walk inside, greeted by the palm-reader, you can't help but smile.

The palmist is a gorgeous lady, who wears a flowy black skirt and a grey tee that reads "coffee and fortune telling". She seems very chilled out, and her eyes pass over every single one of you and your friends before leading you into the centre room. There's a circular table and nine chairs set around it.

"Please," the palmist gestures, "each of you take a seat."

You follow her request. Your friends are all giggling and talking to one another and one of your friends whisper something to you but you barely hear - you're watching the way Marc sits down, the way he rubs his palms across his jeans, how his eyes flick between the clairvoyant and the corner of the room.

You sit beside him and take his hand. He sighs and whispers into your ear, "He's here."

Khonshu.

"Shit. We can leave, if you want?" You whisper back. Everybody is still chatting and laughing, and nobody even notices how nervous Marc looks.

Marc simply shakes his head, and when your friend leans over to ask a question, Marc puts on a smile and answers with a laugh. It was scary how well he could hide his emotions.

The room falls silent as the palm-reader takes the only empty seat, the one that's directly next to Marc. He squeezes his eyes shut, glances one more time at the corner of the room, and then tries to focus on the chirologist.

She gives a brief explanation of what the night will entail, how palm reading works and how none of you have to do anything that you don't feel comfortable with. She makes a joke about how she can sense a presence in the room, and Marc's hand grips yours a little tighter. You're sure it's just apart of her act to build the suspense, but if it's not...you try to not think about it.

When she's done explaining she turns to Marc, "How about you first? Up for the challenge?"

All of your friends smile and cheer Marc on, and you think he's going to back down. But, he doesn't. He puts on the fake smile, removes his hand from yours and lays them both on the table.

"Crack on, doll."

Beside you, a friend nudges your ribs with their elbow. They wiggle their eyebrows at you, excited to see what's about to be revealed. Suddenly, you can't believe you thought it would be a good idea to bring Marc along. He was a palm-reader's dream, and Marc's worst nightmare.

"I'm going to take your left hand."

The palmist takes Marc's hand in hers. She begins tracing lines, staring deeply into his palm. She frowns and pulls faces and you're not sure what's real or what's apart of the act, if there is an act. If she's as good as everybody says she is, then she could probably see Marc's entire life in the palm of his hand.

"Let's start with your hand type...your square palm and short fingers indicate an earth type." She smiles at Marc, "Which is good. It means you're a man of logic. You're grounded and reliable. You work with your hand's right? I can tell."

Marc nods along, but you can tell his eyes keep flickering to the corner of the room. You swear, if you ever met that stupid bird god one day, you'd smack him right in his bony beak.

"But, this hand type, it means you can also be stubborn. And your own thoughts can consume you. But only if you let them."

"Okay..." It's as if Marc only half hears her, but the weariness in his voice suggests he's worried for her to continue. You reach out to touch his leg, and rub slow circles on his thigh. He looks at you, with his dark, gorgeous eyes, and smiles slightly. "It's okay, baby. I want to know."

His voice is soft, and full of earnest. Then he turns to look at your friends, "Can't exactly wimp out in front of everyone, can I?" He winks, which you know is put on, but your mates laugh. He turns his attention back to the palm-reader.

She cups his hand slightly, revealing the fleshy mounts of his skin. "Ah, here. You see this here? This is the Sun mount, which is the highest of them all." She rubs her finger against the mount just under his ring finger, "It suggests you can be quick-tempered and prideful. But, don't worry. It isn't permanent. Those may be feelings that you're experiencing only now. Your hands change over time, as do your mounts and their meanings."

"Good to know." Marc seems somewhat speechless, and as are you. Everything she's saying about Marc is right, but she's not even explored the sensitive side that he has. You hope his palm reveals something good, because now Marc's eyes have lingered elsewhere. They linger just behind one of your friends, as if Khonshu has got closer to watch the show. Piss off, pigeon.

"Now, let me look at your life line. And don't panic, none of it is linked to your length of life. It only reflects your well-being, and the events that have happened in your life."

There's a beat of silence as she examines Marc's hand. "Oh. I see. Your life line is short, and quite shallow. It suggests you've been manipulated in your past, which I'm sorry to hear."

Marc's eyes instantly shoot up to look at Khonshu, which of course, nobody else can see. It gives the room a sense of tension, and you see your friends glance at one another. Nobody wants to say anything, and your tongue feels fat in your mouth. This was such a bad idea.

"Alright. Keep going. You're pretty good at this." Marc's jaw flexes, and you know he's gritting his teeth.

"Okay. Let's see...your head line is pretty deep. Pretty long too. It means you're a clear and focused thinker."

Surprisingly, Marc let's out a small chuckle. "That's interesting."

A few of your friends laugh, and it eases the tension.

"Keep the good stuff coming, doll."

Marc instantly feels more relaxed beside you, and you wonder if Jake or Steven had said something. Maybe Khonshu got bored, and disappeared. You could only hope.

"Your love line," The palm-reader flicks her eyes between you and Marc, and smiles widely, "it suggests you're content with your love life. I'm glad to hear it."

There's a bunch of awww's and comments ("how cute is that?!") which all make you blush. Marc turns to wink at you, and you know its genuine.

"How about we see what your fate line is like, and then you're done." The palm-reader touches Marc's hand once again and her smile drops slightly. "Oh. Interesting. Your line, see here? It's all broken up. I'm afraid it means you're prone to many changes in your life. Often caused by external forces."

Marc's about to comment on the clairvoyant's reading when his eyes shoot to the corner of the room. He shakes his head once, and then, the light's flicker.

Everybody moves away from the table with gasps. Marc swears and then he's on his feet, leaving the room before anyone can stop him.

"I knew I felt a presence. I'd say there's something with us today." The chirologist is staring right at you, as if she's expecting you to give her the answer. Your friends are spooked and are looking at you with wild, confused eyes.

"I have to go. I have to help Marc."

You're on your feet and out of the building before anybody can ask any questions. You can hear shouting in the alleyway beside the building. Marc is shouting at nothing.

"Why do you have to ruin everything? Can I not have one date night in peace you stupid, ugly bird?" There's venom in Marc's voice and his fists are clenched. And, if you didn't know Khonshu really existed, you would have thought he was insane.

There's a beat of silence where Khonshu is obviously talking. Then Marc goes again, "You think it's amusing? Ruining my life? Ruining Steven's and Jake's life? Ruining Y/N's life? You're full of crap."

As if by Khonshu's doing, the streetlight you're stood under illuminates brighter until Marc is forced to look. His defensive demeanour drops. He turns back to quickly look at Khonshu, but by Marc's reaction, the bird's gone.

"Marc-" You start to apologise but Marc closes the distance between you and grabs you in a hug before you can say anything.

"It's not your fault. That stupid bird has issues. Likes to make life harder for me."

You pull away from the hug and kiss Marc. It's brief but you can tell it settles his nerves. "How about you let Jake take over for a while? Or Steven? He's always good with calming your nerves."

The pair of you hold hands in the alleyway. Your friends are probably wondering where you are, but you don't care. You'll drop them a text later and explain Marc felt a bit overwhelmed or something. Whatever you say they'll believe.

"No. It's our date night, I want to be present. You know, I don't want you to think this was a bad date. The palm reader was good, spot on really. It's just Khonshu. He likes being a bit of a dick."

"That's an understatement." You laugh and Marc laughs with you, "How about we get a takeaway or something? Finish date night the right way."

Marc likes the sound of that, and he kisses your forehead. "Let's go, baby."

Sometimes the bird ruins date night, but you couldn't let that get to you. Your love for one another knew no ends, and no moon god was going to get in the way of that.

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taglist: @later-gators12 @alicetweven @bristark616 @toracainz @dopeqff @insomniacfigure @allthingsvicf @leh2393 @minetticatinwonderland @lo0nylexi @elles-mind-palace @christineblood

#moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector #marc spector x reader #steven grant #jake lockley #moon boys

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tiptapricot · 2 years

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you've probs answered this before but what's your favourite mk comic run?

Idk if I’ve mentioned it before bc I just sort of yell about it in tags but also bc idk if I have one HSHDHD I haven’t honestly read too much MK to say for sure what the best are so def do nOt come to me for suggestions, but I can talk endlessly about the three I have read which are Ellis, Lemire, and Mackay, so here’s what I love ab each.

The Ellis run I love because I’m obsessed with that version of Mr. Knight, as well as the one shot focus each issue has on different strange and supernatural cases. Shalvey’s art is also fucking fantastic and it has some of the best panel n page layouts I’ve seen to date, as well as utilizing the color white and negative space to blend MK w the surrounding gutters. I read a bit past the issues the original creative team worked on because my dad had a chunk of issues physically that went past that point, and those are good too! But I’m not exactly driven to continue at the moment, though it’s always a treat to see Smallwood MK stuff. My favorite stories were Sniper and the mushroom dreams one I’m forgetting the name of rn, as well as the ghost punks n… actually I have to stop they’re all really good they’re all so fun.

Lemire has already been praised to high heaven because it truly n honestly deserves it. This was the first MK thing I read and while def not the best place to jump in blind if you have like zero background, you still get such a good sense of the world and characters. Again, I’m in love with the art and the creative use of the genre, the way they made the need for different artists work well with and actually enhance the reading experience as tone shifts between each universe each alter is stuck in. Also again… Smallwood’s stuff alone makes my brain yell and scream and bite wood. Also ofc has my buddy my bestie Commander!! I’m still so so upset Marvel hasn’t brought him back bc I think he presents a super interesting added dynamic as well as opening things up for exploration of more distant or disconnected alters, as well as the impacts of isolated inner world lives. Lemire also handles talk of mental health n DID pretty dang well. Not perfectly, but as people have talked about before the ending of accepting where the system stands and that they need each other and that they will be alright working together is just… it’s so good. I love it so much.

And MACKAY god ok… I’ve yelled ab this, I’ve yelled ab this plenty, but this run is so fucking good and I can’t believe we get even more like we get MORE and it’s already so GOOD. It delves into Marc’s self loathing and self destructive tendencies amazingly, as well as focusing back on the strange and supernatural things that make me love comics MK so fucking much. It has some similar vibes here and there to Ellis w the occasional self-contained plots, even if many of them end up tying into the overall story, like the janitor plot, the stained glass scarlet baby god (I never see ppl talking ab this but that issue makes me UNWELL ITS SO GORGEOUS AND COOL), and the house of shadows. It also introduces some super fun new characters and dynamics and once again touches on mental health n DID in a fucking fantastic way that in a metatextual context helps to explore and undo a lot of the ableism and bad writing that’s permeated MK’s run under different writers for so long. I’ll have more to say about this one as it progresses but just… yeah. YEAH.

So… those are my favorites because those are the ones I’ve read. I’ve been keeping up with Black White and Blood as well but those end up being very hit or miss usually, often having one story I love, one that’s meh, n one I straight up hate. I want to read more MK in the future so this list may shift, but I haven’t had the brain to pick up anything solid and new and struggle my way through continuity quite yet. But… yeah… some thoughts :-) I love when comics comic hard.

#this ended up way longer than I expected lol I’m so sorry HDHBDNF #the fruit is talking again #the fruit is answering again #moon knight

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ct-multifandom · 2 years

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Some people are expecting commentary from me, but I’ve been super busy lately. When I’m like this, I like to only talk about things I haven’t seen other people saying.

So I liked Kuro Neko a lot. It was very solid imo and I appreciate the alternation between episodes where a ton of action happens (Ephemeral, Penalteam) vs episodes where the two dorks just kinda talk to each other and not much happens heroes-vs-villains-wise (Glaciator 2.0, Kuro Neko). Commentary speed run: Adrien pajamas hell yeah finally, wtf Nathalie out of bed? Good for her but ouch those braces. Rhythm (is that her real name?) was super cute and wholesome as a “villain”, and I love the senti. Lastly, Plagg is awesome at drawing?

But here’s what I wanted to talk the most about.

CT’s favorite thing: new heroes

The almost-last batch of my blorbos have arrived so clearly I stared at screenshots of all of them for 48 hours and noticed some stuff. I would like to point out that these 48 hours also let me go through what I call The Five Stages of New Hero Grief aka getting over the instant repulsion people feel upon seeing their designs for the first time and learning to love and accept them.

Between his ram-like original concept and the antelope-like final Caprikid, I don’t think Nathaniel actually knows what a goat is? My manga rec for him is one of those baby picture books about different types of animals. Now that I’ve gotten used to him, I actually like his suit. It reminds me of Mitsuru Kirijo from Persona 3. I feel like I’d like him waaaay more if his hair was different, though. It throws me off that it’s so similar to its usual style, even if it’s a little different, so any sort of more noticeable change would’ve made him look more natural. Idk why his paintbrush would have golden metal if everything on him is silver, but oh well.

Sabrina looks just about how I expected her to. I totally called it that she would have a hat. I’ll talk about her design more when I get to that image of her standing upright ‘cause this angle sucks, but I think the marble-designed ball on her chest could be her tool. If her power has to do with tracking, maybe she’ll be useful in tracking down the original, non-clone Penalty who has the actual akumatized object on her.

Minotaurox my beloved. Everyone’s saying that they see his suit as black, but I see it as navy blue? It’s a kinda desaturated color compared to most of the other suits, but he’s still all blue? (Trust me, I have perfect color vision). I like the way his mask is, it’s new and interesting. I also love the big cargo pockets. Practical. I think the puffy part around his shoulders is supposed to be like an ox yoke. His boots kinda confuse me ‘cause cloved hooves like that could never work irl but I guess it’s just part of the magic. I feel like his normal hair works well with his design because his suit is pretty reminiscent of Ivan’s usual clothes with the cargo pockets, boots, dark colors, and not a lot of details or flashiness. That’s why Nathaniel’s bothers me a little, since his clothes, on the other hand, looks so different from his usual self.

Marc looks fantastic. Glad to finally see an HD image because now we can see the gold trim which is awesome. I like his little scarf, I love his tail, and somewhat unpopular opinion but I love his hair. I’m mixed on the shoes. They make sense, and I always prefer designs being heavily influenced by the animal traits over “this looks good”, so I can’t complain, but how is he gonna kick a soccer ball without wrecking it? I guess it’s a magic ball idk. Super important detail that I haven’t seen anyone talk about: is it just me, or does he have earrings in his left (our right) ear? If you zoom in, it looks like he does. Bunnyx twins? In the picture below, I noticed that his feathers aren’t flat to his chest like I previously thought.

There are four heroes whose animals have hooves, yet zero of them have hoof prints on the bottom of their shoes. My disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined.

What I want everyone to look at is the glimpse we have of Ivan’s back. I think his tool’s on there, but what is it? It’s pretty big. Big hammer? Musical instrument? Idk

One thing I do appreciate is that they didn’t go pussy mode with the horns. If the character designers were cowards, they could’ve easily given us Minotaurox and Caprikid with tiny stubs, but they did not, and for that I am grateful.

First glimpse of Marc’s tool. They changed it from a fountain pen type thing to a quill, but they way he’s holding it makes it look kinda like a combat knife lol. Like in Hack-San, when most of the kids got brainwashed by Robustus, Marc is one again standing in the middle and a bit in front of all the other side characters, and he’s the one speaking for them. This is some consistent new development since it happened twice, and it makes me wonder how important he’s going to become because he was so irrelevant in previous seasons, but he’s changed a lot in s4. I think he’s probably the “beloved character with a big role coming up, like more than this character has ever spoken before” that Ezra Weisz talked about once in a tik tok.

Sabrina looks way cuter in this image than in the trailer imo. Her suit is similar to her normal clothes in that 70s-like aesthetic. Another important thing that nobody’s talking about: is it just me or does she have glasses in this shot? Zoom in on her mask. It looks like she has frameless oval glasses, but I can’t tell if they’re there or not in the trailer shot. If I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing, I like them a lot. They’re cute, and it’s nice to see a girl with glasses not lose them for “aesthetic reasons”. The white part on her chest/belly is a heart aww. Her boots look like those tall schoolgirl type socks, and that plus the shorts, beret, and glasses has a huge vintage prep vibe.

I bet Ladybug is drawing out a game plan in this scene, but everyone’s expressions are so funny. Every single character could be a different reaction meme.

Last thing: I’m trying to imagine how Ladybug is going to give out all of these miraculous. We know the class starts all together, so it’d be tough to separate them all to individually give them miraculous in different locations later. On top of that, there are four more heroes in three other locations, and they’re probably all supposed to be in class right now. I wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t explain how they get busted out of class, but in Kuro Neko we see how collecting the miraculous from even four temp heroes is stressful and time consuming for Ladybug. Maybe this is the episode where she’ll start considering making more people/all of them permanent at some point, and maybe even considering that everyone knowing each other’s identities would make things way easier.

That’s all for now. I have no time, but I’m sooo tempted to draw the four of them in fashion inspired by their hero forms waking down the street “late with iced coffee”. I can see the designs in my head already. I hope to see fan art of all four of them, and I really hope the show will develop all of them at least a little this episode.

#miraculous ladybug #ml #ml season 4 #ml spoilers #miraculous season 4 #miraculous spoilers #miraculous analysis #ivan bruel #sabrina raincomprix #marc anciel #nathaniel kurtzberg #minotaurox #traquemoiselle #coq courage #caprikid #rooster bold #penalteam #kuro neko

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zackcollins · 3 years

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when i first heard your heartbeat || jack campbell

masterlist

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! I’m deep in the feels for a certain goaltender. So, uh. That’s why this exists. As for the premise of the story, I absolutely plead the fifth. I say as a Canadian citizen living in Canada where the fifth amendment doesn’t exist. Anyways. Since I have to answer the question, I want the reader to be me so fucking badly. Happy? Alright. Now that that’s sorted. GIF credit to marc-andrefleury!!

Warnings: This fic mentions infertility and miscarriage. It’s nothing graphic, promise! It’s just mentioned as a way to further the storyline. But I’m warning about it because I know how much some people struggle with it or have struggled with it. If you need to avoid it, I completely understand and no hard feelings, okay?

Word Count: 2.4k+

Title: Lady by Brett Young

Additional: The reader is feminine this time! Or, well. The reader is anyone that has a uterus and can get pregnant! Because I specifically mention the reader having a uterus but men can have uteri too (*gestures at myself*). So, do whatever you will with that. I do call the reader a feminine term (Ms.) but it’s only when being called back to the exam room. So, you can still probably imagine yourself in the reader’s position if you have a uterus but aren’t feminine. Okay? Okay. I hope everyone enjoys this!

Sitting in the waiting room, you noticed that Jack was bouncing his left leg up and down and fidgeting with his hands. You placed your hand on his knee; he stopped bouncing and fidgeting immediately, slotting one of his hands over top of yours as he looked over into your eyes. You shared a soft look, no words being exchanged in the process. The two of you had been together long enough to be able to reassure the other with only looks. You still smiled when Jack asked if you were alright.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, guiding Jack’s hand up from his knee to kiss the back of it. Jack smiled fondly, brushing a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. You hummed in appreciation as you fell back against the waiting room chair. “Just a little nervous. You?”

Jack nodded, linking your ankles together in front of the chairs. You smiled, dropping your head against his shoulder; he brought his arm over and draped it across your upper back and shoulders. “Yeah, same, flowerbud.” Jack placed a kiss to your temple, squeezing you gently against him.

Taking your hand, you ran it over Jack’s knee in an attempt to soothe his ever apparent nerves. You looked up at your fiance, noticing a thankful expression on his face. He nodded briefly to affirm that he was thankful before he pressed another kiss to your temple. You swung your interlocked ankles back and forth, chuckling when you heard Jack huff an amused breath above you.

“That nervous, huh?” Jack’s question came out sounding more concerned than anything. It even came out sounding more like a statement than a question, if you were being honest. All the same, Jack ran his arm comfortingly along your upper arm and helped you in your effort to swing your ankles.

“This is a big thing, bud,” you said, sighing and running a hand down your face. You glanced up at Jack and noticed that he was looking at you with concern. You smiled softly, patting your fiance’s chest. “Of course I’m gonna be nervous. Who wouldn’t be? I promise I’ll be fine once we get in there though. Okay?” Jack went to respond but he closed his mouth when the door beside the reception desk swung open and shut with a resounding thunk.

Looking over, you saw a nurse standing there. She was holding a clipboard and appeared to be scanning the paper that was clipped to it. After a moment, she turned to face the seating area, clutching the clipboard to her chest.

"Ms. (Y/L/N)?" The nurse looked around the room. You noticed that the only other people there were a teenager and his mother. The teenager was playing on a Nintendo Switch and the mother was doing some work on a tablet computer.

You swallowed thickly as you lifted your head from Jack's shoulder and unlinked your ankles. Standing from the chair, you grabbed Jack's hand and guided him off of his own chair. Jack gave you a quick hug before he walked with you across the room to where the nurse was standing. The nurse raised a questioning eyebrow but didn't say anything as she led you and Jack through the door and back into one of the rooms.

Once you were in a room,the nurse closed the door and instructed you to lay on the examination table. Jack quickly stood beside you, grabbing your hand without having been asked. You mouthed your thanks as you rolled the hem of your shirt up to your ribcage, squeezing your eyes shut in the process.

You heard the nurse walk across the room and heard the chair on the side that Jack wasn't on creak as the nurse sat down. You swallowed nervously, wlibg yourself to open your eyes and look at her. When you did, she was holding the ultrasound wand and a bottle of medical gel. You swallowed again, looking over at Jack. Jack nodded, running his thumb across your knuckles in an attempt to soothe your nerves.

"Are you ready?" The nurse asked, popping the top on the gel bottle. When you nodded, the nurse squirted the gel on your stomach. Shivering, you tried to recoil from the feeling of it on your skin. The nurse chuckled as she clicked the bottle closed and placed it back in the basket attached to the ultrasound machine. "Sorry. I probably should've warned you that it was going to be cold."

"No, it's fine," you said, sighing in annoyance. "It wasn't that bad anyways."

When you looked up at Jack, you could tell that he was trying his best to bite back a laugh or a smartass remark. You took your hand and swatted your fiance on the elbow, smirking when he huffed in defeat. You also cast him a stern, although soft at the same time, look to tell him to behave himself. Jack simply chuckled and gave a half-assed smile in response. You rolled your eyes as you looked back at the nurse.

She didn't seem to have noticed what had happened because she was looking at the ultrasound machine. She appeared to be pushing buttons and trying to find the right settings to get it to work. She pressed a few more buttons before nodding a moment later, turning to you and grabbing the wand again.

“Alright,” she said, adjusting herself in her seat so that she was in a better position to use the wand on your stomach. “Are you ready to get this show on the road?”

You heard Jack scoff as you chuckled, nodding along to what the nurse was saying. “Yeah. Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“What about you, dad?”

“I’m the baby’s dad, not her dad,” Jack replied, sounding a little confused at that assumption.

The nurse sighed, shaking her head as she placed the wand on your stomach. You took your hand, patting Jack’s elbow sympathetically looking at him with just as much sympathy. Jack tilted his head in confusion, raising his shoulders, lifting the hand that wasn’t holding yours, and contorting his face into a look of confusion to express that he had no idea what the hell was going on.

“Jack, bud,” you said, looking up into your fiance’s eyes. “That’s what she meant. She would’ve said grandpa if she thought you were my dad.”

“Oh,” Jack mumbled. You saw his face wash over with a nice bubblegum hue as he looked between you and the nurse. “Sorry. I’m nervous.”

“It’s fine. A lot of first time parents are.” The nurse looked up from where she had been moving the wand along your stomach and turned to the ultrasound machine. She pressed a couple of buttons and it brought up the sonogram image of your uterus and the baby inside of it, though there wasn’t really much to see because you weren’t that far along. The nurse pointed to the screen and circled her finger around the tiny black and grey image of the baby. “There’s your little one. I’d say you’re about eight to ten weeks along.”

You felt tears prickle the corners of your eyes. Before you had a chance to wipe them away, you heard Jack sniffle from beside you. You looked over and saw that he was already crying, tears streaking gently down his cheeks. That sent you over the edge, making your eyes open up and leak tears down your own cheeks. Jack brought your hand up and kissed your knuckles while running a thumb along the pulse point in your wrist. You shivered because the sensation of crying mixed with the sensation of him touching your pulse point was nearly too much to handle.

“Would you like to hear the baby’s heartbeat?” The nurse cut in, making you and Jack both look over at her.

You looked up at Jack; Jack nodded fervently, a large smile present on his tear stained face. You turned back to the nurse and nodded, wiping away some of the tears on your cheeks. “Yeah. We’d love that.”

The nurse smiled as she turned to the ultrasound machine to press a couple of buttons. There was the sound of static for a moment then the nurse moved the wand and the faint sound of a beating heart could be heard through the speakers on the machine. You looked up at Jack and Jack looked down at you. Both of you burst into tears as you listened to the sound of your unborn child’s heartbeat. It was so surreal because you had tried to have this baby for the last four years. Four years of failed treatments. Four years of negative pregnancy tests. Four years of miscarriages. Four years of anguish had finally led up to this moment. A moment where you got to hear the heartbeat of a baby that was growing inside of you. A baby that was as much a part of you as they were a part of Jack. It was almost too much for you to handle. And, judging by the look and tears on Jack’s face, it was almost too much for him to handle as well.

“Do you want an .mp3 file of the heartbeat?” The nurse put a reassuring hand on your hip. “Hearing it obviously means a lot to you.”

“Yes, please, oh my god,” you and Jack blurted at the same time, tears falling harder down your cheeks as you both looked at the nurse.

The nurse nodded, taking her hand away from your hip. She pressed a button on the ultrasound machine and you heard a beep that was much the same as that of a voicemail recording. After a few moments, the beep sounded again and the nurse turned back around and pressed the button again. It was at that moment that she set the wand down and handed you some paper towels to clean your stomach off. You thanked her as you wiped away the gel that was left, tears starting to subside. When you were done, Jack took the paper towels and threw them away in the garbage bin across the room. When he returned, the nurse was typing something into the machine. When she was done typing, a second or two passed before you heard your phone chime in your pocket. Pulling it out, you saw that the nurse had emailed you the .mp3 file she had just recorded. You felt the tears starting to ramp back up, but Jack placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder calmed you down enough to stop you from crying again.

“Alright. That should be it for today,” the nurse said, clasping her hands together. “If you need anything, give the office a call. Otherwise, I’ll see you in two months for your next appointment.” You and Jack nodded as the nurse reassuringly patted your knee. “Take as much time as you need to gather yourselves. There aren’t any more appointments until after lunch.” With that, the nurse stood from the chair and walked out of the room.

Jack looked at you, bending down and placing a soft kiss to your forehead. You grabbed his wrist and soothed your thumb along his pulse point. You revelled at the fact that Jack shivered at your touch, finding it a small accomplishment because he wasn’t usually one to get flustered like that. When you ran your thumb along the pulse point again, he shivered again, proving to you that he was just as overwhelmed by this whole situation as you were.

Without saying a word, you unlocked your phone and opened up the email app. Bringing up the email from the nurse, you clicked the .mp3 file and downloaded it onto your phone. Once again, without saying a word, you made a few changes to the haptics and dropped the phone in your lap. Looking up at Jack, you nodded down at the device, squeezing your eyes shut nervously.

“Why don’t you text me what time you guys play tonight, I accidentally deleted it from my calendar when I put in this appointment.” If that was a lie, Jack didn’t need to know.

Jack nodded, pulling out his own phone. After a moment, you saw him typing away on the screen and then heard him send the message. A moment later, you heard your phone go off. Looking up at Jack, you saw him frozen in place, his own phone dangling to the side of his hoodie pocket. He carefully slipped it inside before he wrapped you in a massive hug. The next thing you heard was your fiance sobbing into the crook of your neck and felt his body vibrating against you. You brought your hands up and ran them soothingly along his back, mumbling sweet nothings softly into his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down.

When the phone went off again after you hadn’t cleared the notification, Jack stepped back and wiped his eyes with his hoodie sleeves. He looked down at the phone and then up at you. You saw a small smile on his distraught face. You took your hand and interlaced your fingers with the fingers of one of your fiance’s hands. Jack smiled a little more fondly at that, squeezing your hand. You squeezed back, running your hand along Jack’s elbow.

Jack heaved a heavy sigh before he looked back down at you, a fonder expression on his face. You ran a hand along his elbow again, smiling just as fondly in return. Jack leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your temple, brushing some of your hair aside with his free hand. You hummed, leaning into the touch.

“I can’t believe I finally get to be a father,” Jack mumbled, voice marred by how hard he had been crying. “I’ve waited my whole life for this. Waited four years with you. And all those years were worth it because I finally got to hear my baby’s heartbeat. Something I thought would never happen. And it’s happening with the love of my life. Can you believe that?”

You felt suddenly overcome with emotions as you sat there. You dropped your head against Jack’s chest; Jack took his hand and cradled your head, carding his fingers through your hair. You hummed softly at the sensation of his finger against your scalp. It felt nice to have something calming in all this chaos.

“Yeah, I can believe that,” you said, voice somewhat muffled by Jack’s chest. “Because all of it’s happening with the love of my life too.”

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lumosinlove · 4 years

Text

Sweater Weather Roster Description:

(So I probably definitely forgot some things. There’s a lot of complicated matching up that went into this. But, regardless, I wanted to post it, so we’ll fix and add as we go! <3)

James Potter: (Pots, Pothead, Potty)

Position: Left Wing, First Line

Number: 7

Years In The League: 7—drafted, no college.

Previous Teams: None

Description: 25. 6’1”. Dark brown hair, hazel eyes, white. Can usually be seen wearing whatever Lily buys him. Known on the team for being a joker, but also someone you can go to for any reason. Hyper.

Nationality: American. Hometown: Boston, MA.

S/O: Girlfriend, Lily Evans.

Closest to on the team: Sirius Black and Sergei Ivanov, but basically everyone.

Rooms With: No one

Sits with on the bus/plane: Sirius Black

Lives With: Girlfriend Lily Evans

Injury: Multiple concussions

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Putting his contacts in, because he usually wears glasses, gets him really into the game mode. His favorite food is treacle tart, which he had when he took his girlfriend Lily to England—now she makes it for him on his birthday.

Favorite Moment On Team: When he told them that he and Lily were pregnant and they all celebrated.

Superstition: He has to call his girlfriend, Lily, before every game.

Warm Up Song: Eye of the Tiger

What the announcers say when he scores: “Aaaaannndd Potter is wheeling tonight!!”

Sirius Black: (Padfoot, Cap, Captain)

Position: Center, First Line

Number: 12

Years In The League: 6—First pick overall, no college.

Previous Teams: None

Description: 24. 6’3”. Black hair, gray eyes, white. Hair gets really fluffy in humidity and it drives him insane. Short hair, curls above his ears. Loves a good backwards hat. One of the strongest on the team.

Nationality: French-Canadian. Hometown: Montreal, Canada.

S/O: Remus Lupin—secret.

Closest to on the team: James Potter and Adam Fox and William LeBlanc

Rooms With: No One

Sits with on the bus/plane: James Potter

Lives With: No one

Injury: Badly broken ankle, one mild concussion

Puck Personality Fun Fact: He had a very hard time coming up with one, so James chose one for him. He pretends to hate the rookies, but will drop literally everything for anything they need. He’s also really bad at taking his pre-game nap.

(Pascal Dumais from the background: “He does not understand household chores!” “Shut up, Dumo!”)

Favorite Moment On Team: His first game after deciding to stand up to his mother about getting a trade. He could finally relax, and enjoy himself. When he scored the first goal, he let his teammates celebrate with him.

Superstition: There are so many. There are too many. Has to go out onto the ice last, has to have a butter and honey toasted sandwich before the game at 5:00 pm, has to do his stretches in a certain order, has to put on and sharpen his left skate first. Cannot even talk about the Cup without freaking out. Will wear the same gross hat until it literally reeks if they’re on a hot streak.

Warm Up Song: Doesn’t really have one.

What the announcers say when he scores: “Seriously!!! That is one serious goal!!” “That Black back-hander will kill a fella!”

Finn O’Hara: (Harzy, Fish)

Position: Right Wing

Number: 17

Years In The League: 3. Went to Harvard College.

Previous Teams: None

Description: 23. 6’0’’. Dark red hair, luscious and fluffy. White. Wavy. Light freckles. Brown eyes. Is a single eyebrow raiser. Habit of saluting. More on the slender side of muscle. Is a bit of a worry-wart. Super sarcastic.

Nationality: American. Hometown: New York, New York.

S/O: June Calder—sort of.

Closest to on the team: Logan Tremblay and Leo Knut and Olli Halla

Rooms With: Timmy Jones

Sits with on the bus/plane: Kasey Winter

Lives With: Leo Knut

Injury: Two bad concussions in college.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: He wanted it to be that he’s real fucking good in bed, but it’s that he likes eating grilled cheese with strawberry jam because his older brother, Alexander, used to make it for him all the time when they were kids.

Favorite Moment On Team: Probably that one team dinner where Blizzard got drunk and tried to swim in a fountain. Or when he found out that Logan also got drafted to the Lions the year after him.

Superstition: Has to have a grilled cheese and strawberry jam before every game. Has to tape his own sticks on the bench. Has a handshake with Logan they do before walking down the tunnel.

Warm Up Song: Hollaback Girl, Gwen Stefani

What the announcers say when he scores: “OOOOOOOO’HARA HOW DARA!! WHAT A GOAL!”

Timmy Jones: (Timmers)

Position: Defenseman

Number: 62

Years In The League: 10. Went to Boston University

Previous Teams: New York Islanders

Description: 31. 6’1”. Black hair, braided, reaches his shoulders and he likes to tie it up sometimes, hazel eyes. Black. One of the most popular jerseys because he’s such a crowd pleaser always riling them up and talking to fans through the glass. He’s also one of the biggest Instagram users and is always posting really funny locker room videos.

Nationality: Canadian. Vancouver, Canada.

S/O: Single

Closest to on the team: Olli Halla and William LeBlanc and Thomas Walker

Rooms With: Finn O’Hara

Lives With: Olli Halla

Sits with on the bus/plane: Olli Halla

Injury: Fractured foot a few years ago.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Kasey’s rival for best hair in the league. Famous for his crazy cellys

Favorite Moment On Team: Conference Finals! And when all the boys touch Moody’s leg for good luck.

Superstition: Has a lucky towel that no one is allowed to wash.

Warm Up Song: Where are Ü Now, Jack Ü, Skrillex, Justin Bieber

What the announcers say when he scores: Timmers strikes again!!

Olli Halla: (Olli)

Position: Defenseman

Number: 5

Years In The League: 10, Undrafted.

Previous Teams: Winnipeg Jets.

Description: 6’2”. 32. Very, very blonde hair, nearly white. Pale blue eyes. Cute little nose. Cannot grow a beard to save his life. Total baby-face. Is sort of shy and awkward. What a sweetheart.

Nationality: Finish. Hometown: Helsinki, Finland.

S/O: Single.

Closest to on the team: Timmy Jones and Finn O’Hara

Rooms With: Elias Cook

Lives With: Timmy Jones

Sits with on the bus/plane: Timmy Jones

Injury: Concussion, twice. A few bruised ribs.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Wins the pre-game team kick-around almost every time. Brings awareness to charities that contribute to doing research on the brain and brain injuries.

Favorite Moment On Team: When the team welcomed him back from his pretty serious concussion (he missed nearly a year) by all wearing the number 5 out on the ice during warm ups.

Superstition: Wears his cross and says a small prayer after the national anthem. Also has to play in the kick-around.

Warm Up Song: Replay, Iyaz

What the announcers say when he scores: (G)oooooolllliiiii!

Brady Smith: (Smitty)

Position: Right Wing

Number: 92

Years In The League: 10. Drafted.

Previous Teams: Washington Capitals

Description: 28, 6’3”. Black hair, blue eyes. Black. The sweetest person you will ever meet in your life. Is adored by all of the hockey wives and girlfriends. Can speak Spanish and (ofc) German. Has a tattoo he has on his back shoulder blade of the Stanley Cup which he won with the Washington Capitals. The cup says his wife and two kid’s names on it with room for more—this man loves his babies.

Nationality: German. Hometown: Berlin, Germany, where his mother is from, but moved to the Boston, MA when he was 15 years old—where his father is from.

S/O: Married to his wife Allison, and they’re expecting their third child. Their first is a boy named Max, their second a boy named Noah.

Closest to on the team: Evgeni Kuznetsov and Jackson Nadeau.

Lives With: His family

Sits with on the bus/plane: Evan Kane

Rooms With: Evan Kane

Injury: Frequently separates his shoulder :(

Puck Personality Fun Fact: He’s part of the Lions’ power play. Is actually a really good tattoo artist and has inked Kris Lavolie and Evgeni Kuznetsov. He gave Kris the date of his daughter’s birth, and he gave Evgeni a tiger on his left bicep.

Favorite Moment On Team: He really loved when Sirius became Captain. He felt a shift in their team’s drive.

Superstition: Has to read the note his son wrote him a few years ago.

Warm Up Song: Anything Drake

What the announcers say when he scores: Braaaddyyy Smith! What a goal!

Pascal Dumais: (Dumo)

Position: Center

Number: 9

Years In The League: 24, drafted first overall.

Previous Teams: New York Rangers, Colorado Avalanche.

Description: 41. 6’1’’. Brown hair, cut pretty short but brushes up at the front or superman curl. White. Hazel/green eyes, dark eyelashes and brows. Scruffy beard always. Is the dad of the team. Well tell anyone who asks the hilarious stories of when Sirius lived with him.

Nationality: French Canadian. Hometown: Montreal.

S/O: Celeste Dumais, wife. And four children. Adele (13), Louis (10), Marc (9), and Katie (7).

Closest to on the team: Logan Tremblay and Sergei Ivanov.

Lives With: His wife and four kids—and Logan of course.

Rooms With: No one

Sits with on the bus/plane: No one, he enjoys the peace and quiet (not that anyone gives him any)

Injury: Broken wrist. Bruised ribs. Mild concussion. Lost too many teeth to count.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: The BIGGEST prankster on the team. Loves fine wine.

Favorite Moment On Team: Whenever the crowd chants “Duuummmooooo,” or the first time Sirius smiled.

Superstition: Slaps Sergei’s ass before they walk down the tunnel. No one knows why.

Warm Up Song: Eight Days A Week by The Beatles

What the announcers say when he scores: "Pascal Dumais everybody! One of the oldest in the league—he’s still got it!”

Logan Tremblay: (Tremzy, [Finn: Lo])

Position: Right Wing

Number: 10

Years In The League: 2. Went to Harvard College.

Previous Teams: None.

Description: 22. 5’9’’. Dark brown hair, long enough to be wavy and always wearing a snapback. Green eyes. Light freckles. White. Always sinfully tan. Really broad and strong. Those arms and chest muscles damn. Really dark, long eyelashes. Clean shaven. Really loud, always mildly grumpy. Flirts with EVERYTHING.

Nationality: French Canadian. Hometown: Rimouski, Quebec, Canada.

S/O: Single…..

Closest to on the team: Leo Knut, Finn O’Hara, and Pascal Dumais, Thomas Walker.

Lives With: Pascal Dumais

Rooms With: Leo Knut

Sits with on the bus/plane: Leo Knut

Injury: He broke a finger and a foot and frequently has black eyes from fights.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Has a fleur-de-lis necklace that he never takes off. Spends his summers in Nice, France where his mother is from. Bites his nails.

Favorite Moment On Team: Playing with Finn again.

Superstition: Says he isn’t superstitious but he is. Won’t touch the kick-around soccer ball before he decides to play. Has a handshake with Finn they do before walking down the tunnel.

Warm Up Song: Whatever It Takes, Imagine Dragons.

What the announcers say when he scores: “Scooorree!!! Oh, the tremble before Tremblay!”

Thomas Walker: (Talker, Walkie-Talkie)

Position: Defenseman —also an enforcer.

Number: 43

Years In The League: 8. University of Wisconsin.

Previous Teams: None.

Description: 30, 6’2”. Short hair, brown eyes, one of the most ripped guys on the team. Black. Pierced ears, usually small gold hoops. Takes them out for play. The Lions organization does a segment with him called Walkie-Talkie where he goes around the locker room and interviews his team mates with funny questions.

Nationality: American. Hometown: Chicago, IL.

S/O: Single

Closest to on the team: Timmy Jones and Adam Fox and Logan Tremblay.

Lives With: No one

Rooms With: Adam Fox.

Sits with on the bus/plane: Anyone who wants to CHAT.

Injury: Broken foot, some broken fingers.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: He got his nickname Talker because he never shuts up on the ice. Starts a lot of fights.

Favorite Moment On Team: When Kasey jumped in the fountain.

Superstition: Needs to take a three minute nap between periods. He puts a towel over his head right in his stall and literally falls asleep for three minutes. (James: it’s fucking weird”)

Warm Up Song: Top hits, just needs the background noise.

What the announcers say when he scores: “Goal!!! He just walks right up there, don’t he?”

Sergei Ivanov: (Vans)

Position: Defenseman

Number: 55

Years In The League: 23, Drafted, no college.

Previous Teams: Pittsburgh Penguins, Colorado Avalanche, Vegas Golden Knights.

Description: 40. 5’11”. Light brown-gray hair—was blonde, losing it at the front a little. White. Really stern blue eyes that transform and crinkle when he smiles (but it’s hard to get a real smile out of him, and the boys feel really accomplished when they do).

Nationality: Russian. Hometown: Omsk.

S/O: Anya. They have three daughters: Aleandra (10), Evenlina (8), and Katya (7).

Closest to on the team: Kris Lavolie and Pascal Dumais and James Potter

Lives With: His wife and children.

Rooms With: No one.

Sits with on the bus/plane: Kris Lavolie.

Injury: Shoulder injury

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Loves classical music

Favorite Moment On Team: One of his daughters was born the same night he got his first hat-trick. Some of the team came to the hospital with him.

Superstition: Stops at a Church on his way to the rink everyday for a few quiet moments.

Warm Up Song: He doesn’t have one, he prefers to talk to everyone instead.

What the announcers say when he scores: SERGEI SCORES!

Jackson Nadeau: (Nado)

Position: Left Wing

Number: 58

Years In The League: 8. Went to College but didn’t finish.

Previous Teams: Chicago Blackhawks

Description: 26, 6’0”. Dark brown hair, chin length and straight, blue eyes. White. Is very laid back and a big flirt. Has cheek bones that could kill and a very stark scar running down one of them from a skate in the face.

Nationality: French Canadian. Victoria, Canada.

S/O: Single

Closest to on the team: Evgeni Kuznetsov and Brady Smith

Lives With: Evgeni Kuznetsov

Rooms With: Evgeni Kuznetsov

Sits with on the bus/plane: Evgeni Kuznetsov

Injury: Skate to the face, other minor things.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Rival with Evgeni for most pick ups on the team. Has many tattoos—one full sleeve, working on the other.

Favorite Moment On Team: Probably when Evgeni got traded, he found his best friend.

Superstition: Has a handshake with Evgeni.

Warm Up Song: He won’t tell you up front but Hamilton.

What the announcers say when he scores: Rapidly repeating “Nadeau, Nadeau, Nadeau!!!”

Evgeni Kuznetsov: (Kuny)

Position: Center. Enforcer.

Number: 86

Years In The League: 10. Drafted.

Previous Teams: Anaheim Ducks, Calgary Flames, Buffalo Sabres.

Description: 27. 6’4”. Short cropped light brown hair and puppy-dog brown eyes. Has a slightly chipped front left tooth. White. Very heavy Russian accent, doesn’t speak perfect English and uses this fact to get out of interviews. Is very charming. Literally a giant.

Nationality: Russian. Magnitogorsk, Russia.

S/O: Single and ready to mingle—or already does mingle. Excessively.

Closest to on the team: Brady Smith and Jackson Nadeau

Lives With: Jackson Nadeau

Rooms With: Jackson Nadeau

Sits with on the bus/plane: Jackson Nadeau

Injury: Had to have knee surgery.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Will tell you he has the most pick-ups on the team, but it might be Nado. He’s always making jokes in Russian that basically only Sergei and Henrik can understand and Sergei just rolls his eyes while Henrik laughs.

Favorite Moment On Team: He loves team dinners, just hanging out with the guys.

Superstition: Has a handshake with Jackson.

Warm Up Song: BLASTS Russian rap.

What the announcers say when he scores: THE RUSSIAN BEAR STRIKES AGAIN!

Evan Kane: (Kaner)

Position: Right Wing

Number: 51

Years In The League: Two. Went to College at Boston University.

Previous Teams: Calgary Flames.

Description: 23. 5’11”. Tan skin with freckles and brown eyes, black, short hair. Hispanic. Super strong and holds lots of team workout records. The brightest smile. Eyebrows on point. Loves to read, was an English major at school.

Nationality: American. Hometown: Boston, MA.

S/O: His girlfriend, Caroline Hall.

Closest to on the team: Brady Smith and Elias Cook, and Leo Knut

Lives With: His girlfriend.

Rooms With: Brady Smith

Sits with on the bus/plane: Brady Smith

Injury: Nothing major up to date.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Wicked fast. One of the fastest in the League.

Favorite Moment On Team: Probably meeting Pascal Dumais. He’s looked up to his playing style for a long time.

Superstition: Tapes his own sticks, sharpens his own skates.

Warm Up Song: Eminem

What the announcers say when he scores: “Yes he Kane!!!”

Adam Fox: (Foxy, Sexy)

Position: Defenseman

Number: 32.

Years In The League: 19. Drafted.

Previous Teams: New York Islanders.

Description: 36. 6’2”. White. Light brown hair that pushes up at the front and is shaved close at the sides. Blue eyes that will kill you.

Nationality: American. Hometown: Boston, MA.

S/O: Girlfriend, Lucìa Perez.

Closest to on the team: Thomas Walker and Sirius Black

Lives With: His girlfriend.

Rooms With: Thomas Walker

Sits with on the bus/plane: Elias Cook

Injury: Nothing too serious.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Is constantly made fun of for being the prettiest. Ever.

Favorite Moment On Team: Bringing his girlfriend to her first game.

Superstition: Stretches in a certain order.

Warm Up Song: They boys will tell you it’s SexyBack but it’s actually just heavy metal.

What the announcers say when he scores: “A foxy goal!!”

Henrik Sunqvist: (Sunny, Sunshine)

Position: Defenseman

Number: 33

Years In The League: 10. Played in the Swedish league for a while.

Previous Teams: None in the NHL.

Description: 39. 5’11”. Blond hair, cut short, pale blue eyes, white. Warmest smile you’ve ever seen.

Nationality: Swedish. Hometown: Uppsala.

S/O: Linnea Sunqvist, his wife and their daughter and son, Maja (10) and Hugo (11).

Closest to on the team: Evander Bell

Lives With: His wife and family.

Rooms With: No one

Sits with on the bus/plane: Likes to sit alone with a nice audiobook sometimes.

Injury: Nothing major, a few minor concussions

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Almost never fights, but when he does…ouch. Can speak French and Russian.

Favorite Moment On Team: When he gets to morning practice and has coffee with the boys.

Superstition: Has to do a few somersaults in the locker room—we don’t know why.

Warm Up Song: Russian rap—no one knows why/how he knows Russian so well.

What the announcers say when he scores: “The sun is shining on Sunqvist!"

Elias Cook: (Cookie, Crock-pot)

Position: Left Wing

Number: 29

Years In The League: 7. Drafted.

Previous Teams: Toronto Maple Leafs

Description: 25. 5’11”. Hazel eyes, Black hair, baby curls so cute we love the curls.

Nationality: Canadian. Toronto.

S/O: Fiancee, Jamie Barrow.

Closest to on the team: Kasey Winter

Lives With: Jamie.

Rooms With: Olli Halla

Sits with on the bus/plane: Adam Fox

Injury:

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Loves spicy food. Once made Sirius cry by daring him to eat some really spicy dish.

Favorite Moment On Team: Listening to ABBA in the locker room.

Superstition: Does a few laps around the hallways. The press love to try to catch him for interviews while he’s doing this.

Warm Up Song: iSpy, KYLE and Lil Yachty

What the announcers say when he scores: “The stove is HOT for Cook tonight!”

William LeBlanc: (Bluey)

Position: Center

Number: 44

Years In The League: 3. Drafted.

Previous Teams: SKA Saint Petersburg.

Description: 24 6′1″. Brown hair, wavy, green eyes. White. Goes to Russia during his summers.

Nationality: French Canadian. Sherbrooke.

S/O: Single

Closest to on the team: Tyler Wright, Sirius Black.

Lives With: No one

Rooms With: Kris Lavolie

Sits with on the bus/plane: Tyler Wright

Injury: Concussion.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Never learned Russian well, despite playing in the KHL.

Favorite Moment On Team: When Kasey jumped in the fountain.

Superstition: Has to touch all the boys’ names above their stalls

Warm Up Song: Russian rap.

What the announcers say when he scores: LeGOALLLLL

Evander Bell: (Ringer)

Position: Right Wing

Number: 21

Years In The League: 15. Drafted.

Previous Teams: Bruins, Red Wings.

Description: 33. 6’3”. Sandy blond hair and brown eyes. White. Pretty shy, but really kind. Laughs really loudly which then makes himself blush.

Nationality: American. Hometown: L.A.

S/O: His fiancee, Emily.

Closest to on the team: Henrik Sunqvist

Lives With: Emily and his son, Xavier.

Rooms With: None

Sits with on the bus/plane: Likes to sit alone, besides joining the card game.

Injury: Broken wrist.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Can play the guitar and the piano. Is one of the team’s biggest You Can Play ambassadors (Pascal and Sergei are the other two most active). Always goes to the Gryffindor pride parade.

Favorite Moment On Team: The entire locker room singing We Are Never Getting Back Together. Beginning to see hearts on the glass at the team’s You Can Play Night.

Superstition: Wears the same hat and socks.

Warm Up Song: Taylor Swift.

What the announcers say when he scores: “A dead Ringer from Evander Bell!”

Kris Lavolie: (Volley)

Position: Defenseman

Number: 11

Years In The League: 3. Went to University of Michigan.

Previous Teams: None.

Description: 24, 6’1”. Dark hair that’s straight and falls to about his chin, brown eyes. White. Broadly built. Kind and a really good listener.

Nationality: French Canadian. Hometown: Quebec City.

S/O: Single

Closest to on the team: Sergei Ivanov

Lives With: His daughter, Aveline.

Rooms With: William LeBlanc

Sits with on the bus/plane: Sergei Ivanov

Injury: Broken rib.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Kris is a single dad. One of his best friends, Lee, she takes care of his baby girl who is four now while he’s on the road. Sometimes she gets to go stay with Sergei’s family, too. Sergei helps him so much, and he’s thankful for him <3. His daughter’s name is Aveline and he will do ANYTHING for her.

Favorite Moment On Team: Taking his daughter to the Lions’ family skate for the first time.

Superstition: Talk to/call his daughter before every game.

Warm Up Song: XO, Beyoncé

What the announcers say when he scores: “La gooaaaaallll by Lavolie!!”

Tyler Wright: (Wrangler)

Position: Defenseman

Number: 8

Years In The League:

Previous Teams:

Description: 27. 6’2”. Hair that is shoulder length, really dark brown. Blue eyes. Square jaw. Has a bit of a temper on the ice, but is a sweetheart otherwise. Ironically doesn’t like fighting.

Nationality: American. Hometown: Minnesota, Minneapolis.

S/O: His girlfriend, Elsa, who lives in Sweden and is a professional football/soccer player.

Closest to on the team: William LeBlanc

Lives With: No one

Rooms With: No one

Sits with on the bus/plane: William LeBlanc

Injury: Nothing serious.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Has four dachshunds named Puck, Deke, Gordie, and Stanley.

Favorite Moment On Team: Like many, when Kasey jumped into that fountain. “It was just so fuckin’ out of character, you know?”

Superstition: Has to participate in the kick around, and has to kick the ball last with his right foot.

Warm Up Song: Royals, Lorde.

What the announcers say when he scores: “Wright in the net!”

Kasey Winter: (Kase, Blizzard)

Position: Goalie

Number: 30

Years In The League: 8 years. Drafted, no college.

Previous Teams: New York Rangers.

Description: 26. 6’2’’. Light brown hair down to his shoulders. Known for being the most beautiful hair in the league. Softest brown eyes that psych shooters out. Grows a really gorgeous beard whenever the fuck he wants.

Nationality: Canadian. Home town: Ontario, Canada.

S/O: Girlfriend, Natalie Darcy

Closest to on the team: Elias Cook and Kris Lavolie

Lives With: His girlfriend, Natalie.

Rooms With: No one.

Sits with on the bus/plane: Finn O’Hara

Injury: Torn hamstring.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Will have his girlfriend braid his hair for practice sometimes. (“You can say what you want, but keeps it out of my face. Good old boxer braids. It’s where it’s at.”)

Favorite Moment On Team: When the team got to the Conference Finals seven years ago.

Superstition: Has to do stretches in a certain order.

Warm Up Song: Wasabi by Little Mix (Thanks, Natalie)

What the announcers say when he makes a safe: “The Blizzard is blinding!” “It’s a squall!”

Leo Knut: (Nut, Knutty, Peanut, Peanut-butter)

Position: Goalie

Number: 1

Years In The League: His rookie season, so almost one. No college.

Previous Teams: None.

Description: 18. 6’3’’. Dark blond Hair, pretty wavy and falls over his forehead. Blue eyes. Button nose. Blond eyelashes. Cannot grow a beard to save his life.

Nationality: American. Hometown: New Orleans, Louisiana.

S/O: None….;)

Closest to on the team: Logan Tremblay and Finn O’Hara and Evan Kane

Lives With: Finn O’Hara

Rooms With: Logan Tremblay

Sits with on the bus/plane: Logan Tremblay

Injury: Nothing major.

Puck Personality Fun Fact: Has a small gray-streaked patch of hair by the front of his head from hitting his head really hard when he was little.

Favorite Moment On Team: Well, the first moment he felt most at home was when the rest of the boys started imitating his accent. Logan is the worst at it, but he does it the most.

Superstition: Not very superstitious…yet.

Warm Up Song: Violet, Bad Suns and Love On Top by Beyoncé

What the announcers say when he saves a puck: “Another nuts save for Knut!” “We’re nuts about Knut!” “Right in the nuts!”

#sweater weather #sweater weather player roster #hockey!au #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar au #wolfstar #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #lumosinlove #lumosinlove ocs #lumosinlove oc #Harry Potter fic #Harry Potter au #writing

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half-bakedboy · 4 years

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A Real Good Big Brother (read on ao3)

Celebrating my 200th fic posted to AO3 🎉

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid Rated: General Summary: “I think I would be a real good big brother,” Jack noted one Saturday morning as Spencer assisted him in mixing the pancake batter Hotch had stashed in one of the top cabinets. Hotch was sipping coffee out of a mug Jack had made him at school - it was adorned with big bold letters that read ‘MY DADS A SUPERHERO’ and Hotch favored it over most other projects his son had created for him - when the words registered in his mind.

“Sometimes being a brother is even better than being a superhero.” – Marc Brown

“I think I would be a real good big brother,” Jack noted one Saturday morning as Spencer assisted him in mixing the pancake batter Hotch had stashed in one of the top cabinets. Hotch was sipping coffee out of a mug Jack had made him at school - it was adorned with big bold letters that read ‘MY DADS A SUPERHERO’ and Hotch favored it over most other projects his son had created for him - when the words registered in his mind.

His brain tried to form a coherent response but instead, he sputtered as his caramel flavored coffee dripped down his chin and onto the tablet displayed on the table. Spencer whirled on him as he coughed and Hotch wiped frantically at his mouth as Jack followed his gaze with a wide-eyed stare. Hotch waved them off as he struggled with his breath and Jack seemed to take the gesture easily with a shrug of his shoulders, clearly too focused on the prospect of pancakes to care that his dad had choked. He turned back to Spencer who was almost at his eye level from where Jack stood on the stepstool kept in the kitchen specifically for mornings like that one and smiled brightly at him.

“Daddy needs to learn how to drink his caw-fee,” Jack said through his giggles. Spencer ruffled his hair before he used his thumb to swipe a bit of powder off of Jack’s nose and the boy scrunched his nose in response.

“Your dad was probably a bit surprised by what you said,” Spencer said easily as he continued to help Jack stir the still lumpy batter. Jack looked up at him and tilted his head in confusion.

“Eloise at school is gonna be a big sister and she said her mom and dad are teaching her how to help out ‘round the house,” Jack said excitedly as he reached for the blueberries on the counter, his tongue poking from his mouth in concentration as he plopped a few into the bowl. When he was satisfied with the ratio, he continued, “She said that her mom was teachin’ her how to make a bottle, which seems like a lot of work for a baby sister.”

Spencer chuckled softly as he handed the bowl to Jack for safekeeping so he could spread the oil on the griddle. “Baby siblings are a lot of work, you’re right,” Spencer agreed and Hotch could have sworn he saw a blush rising on Spencer’s cheeks as he listened to Jack switch smoothly into his only slightly convincing speech on why he deserved a puppy to grow up with.

Hotch took the change in subject as a welcome few moments to catch his breath and clear his thoughts. He had known Jack hadn’t meant anything by bringing up the idea of a younger sibling, but Hotch had been more surprised by the surge he felt in his chest at the mere mention of another kid.

He and Haley had talked about it, bouncing around the prospect of a sibling for Jack, as they inched closer to their divorce. Hotch had always seen the idea as another way for Haley to persuade him to leave the career that made him happy, like collateral of sorts to save their already failed marriage. He had grappled with the idea because, in his heart, he had always wanted more kids. He had loved being an older brother and no matter how many times he had seemed to be the only one there to pick up the shattered pieces Sean left behind him, he wouldn’t have traded his brother for the world. There was an increasingly large part of him that had wanted Jack to experience the same thing and to hear that his son had been thinking about it too was a bit too much to handle.

Spencer was never quiet about his lack of paternal instincts or his worries of passing what he saw as flawed genetics down to an offspring so Hotch had never thought to bring up the subject. When they got together, Spencer had made it clear that he was willing to be a part of Jack’s life in whatever way Hotch and Haley had wanted him to be, and they had never discussed the topic further. The look Spencer had thrown his way at the mention had Hotch strongly considering broaching the subject for the first time.

A sizzle and excited clap threw him from his thoughts and his eyes darted to where Spencer and Jack had successfully ladled their first pancake of the morning on the griddle, wide smiles on their faces. Jack had his arms wrapped around Spencer’s bicep in a tight grip, his toes keeping him balanced on the stepstool as he watched the batter spread. Spencer was focused on keeping Jack safe, eyeing him carefully with so much love in his eyes, Hotch’s heart seemed to stutter in his chest. Hotch’s gaze moved to his son whose smile seemed to light up his face, the prevalent gap in his teeth on display as he beamed at the mathematical symbol Spencer had created with the mixture.

Nothing made Hotch happier than the sound of joyful laughter reverberating through the air as Spencer wiped his index finger across the edge of the bowl before smudging some leftover batter on Jack’s cheek. His son shrieked and jumped off of the stepstool, running to Hotch for cover as if there was no doubt in his mind that his dad would protect him. Hotch stood quickly, pulling Jack into his arms and holding out a hand as Spencer turned to them, ladle and bowl in hand.

“You don’t want to do this, Spence,” Hotch said in the most serious voice he could muster given the playful circumstances. Spencer pressed his lips together as if concealing a laugh and glared very unconvincingly at the father and son. Jack was squirming in Hotch’s arms, giggles and squeals like music to his ears even if they echoed just a bit too loudly.

“Don’t let him get me, daddy!” Jack begged as he threw his arms around his dad’s neck and squeezed until Hotch could barely breathe. Hotch didn’t really care, though, because what better place for his son to be than in his arms with the love of his life watching on with joy in his eyes.

“What do you think, buddy? Think we can take him?” Hotch said as Spencer walked slowly toward them and set the bowl and ladle on the table. Spencer raised his eyebrows in mock concern and tilted his head like a challenge as his bright smile etched into Hotch’s mind.

Jack pulled away from Hotch enough to point his fingers at Spencer just as Spider-Man would and yell, “Let’s get him!”

Hotch set Jack on the ground and they both surged forward before Spencer had a chance to back away. Jack launched himself at Spencer’s leg, gripping on as tight as he could, and when Spencer leaned down to remove him, Hotch wrapped his arms around Spencer’s waist and swung behind him. He pressed his fingers into Spencer’s sides where he had known his partner was ticklish and Spencer straightened to attempt an escape.

Spencer could wiggle all he wanted to, but Hotch’s grip was secure on his hips, his chin tucked over Spencer’s shoulder to hold his back to his chest. Jack’s giggles were only interrupted by the sound effects he created as if shooting webs at Spencer’s face. Spencer squirmed as if deflecting each shot before letting his head fall back as if defeated by Jack’s superhero moves.

“We got you, Pence! Daddy and I got you!” Jack screamed as he wrapped his legs around Spencer’s calf and leaned back to stare up at the two men. Spencer had settled back into Hotch, their fingers laced together around Spencer’s middle, both of their chests heaving as they caught their breath. Spencer pressed a soft kiss to Hotch’s stubbled cheek and Hotch’s eyes slid shut at the gentle touch. “Yuck!” Jack scrunched up his face and asked with a voice full of disdain, “Why do you always have to make moony eyes at each other?”

Hotch chuckled before returning a kiss to Spencer’s cheek and detangling them reluctantly. “Because that’s what adults do when they’re happy, Jack,” Hotch answered as he made his way to the counter to grab the neatly plated pancakes and bring them back to the table.

Jack jumped onto his booster chair and Spencer instinctively pushed him closer to the table before pressing a kiss to his tousled hair. Jack swatted him away but leaned into the palm Spencer rested on his shoulder anyway. Hotch felt a tug inside of him as he watched his partner and his son interact and had to inhale deeply to stop himself from blurting out the question he had known he had to ask Spencer.

“You know what makes adults even happier?” Jack asked as he plastered an innocent smile on his face. Hotch shared a skeptical glance with Spencer before he took his own seat and started slicing up Jack’s breakfast for him.

“What would that be?” Spencer asked after a few moments of silence. Hotch should have known Spencer’s curiosity would get the best of him.

Jack’s grin widened as his eyes darted hopefully between his dad and Spencer. “More kids.”

#hotchreid #hotchreid fic #hotch x reid #reid x hotch #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #my writing #god i cant believe it #this is so surreal #and i didnt even realize that i had hit 200 🥺#i really hope you like this one #its just straight up domestic fluff #because thats how i roll #*fingerguns*

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morwensteelsheen · 3 years

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WIP wednesday thoughts:

willow cabin is utterly fucked because i changed my intended ~moral~ halfway through and now im stuck trying to integrate this shitty political intrigue plot into what should’ve been a more interesting story about éowyn adapting to life in gondor. hugely fucking annoyed by it and just totally unsure how to proceed. i could significantly increase the chapter count, but im worried that because the initial framing device was this bandits shit that closing out that plot and then still going for ages afterwards would be really shitty? i honestly don’t know, it’s so difficult. really i just need someone to read my outline and tell me if im being a dumb twat about it lol

meanwhile I know exactly where I want to go with AFTA but for some unaccountable reason im stressed that my ass is gonna get roasted for the direction i want to take it in. it’s all based in both tolkien’s personal politics and (some) historical precedent, but im worried people are gonna see it as a marysue-ification? but also im hoping to do sthg of a sequel to afta to practice the political intrigue writing so i don’t make the same mistakes i did in wc, and to do that it would require this specific set up in AFTA. im gonna put my AFTA thing under the cut so don’t click read more unless you’re gucci with potential AFTA spoilers!!

this royal affair au is definitely gonna get published at some point but im trying to decide if i want to do ~tasteful~ smut that drives a longer narrative or if im really just gonna do a whole 3,000 word build up to some run of the mill, old fashioned PWP lmao

okay so i have spent a Lot of time thinking about what impact i think éowyn and faramir would have on each other in a pre-ring war setting, and the honest to god conclusion ive come to is that they would somewhat inadvertently egg on each other’s (wildly divergent) idealism.

faramir’s an idealist politically in ways that, as Big D rightly points out, are not super productive in a wartime scenario. but so far as im concerned, the war doesn’t feel as warlike until they have to blow the bridge at osgiliath. until that point, there’s not really anything to say that faramir’s whole throwback optimism isn’t a perfectly justifiable position to have.

but what that idealism is and how it manifests are two really important considerations. the crux of his idealistic politics is that he looks at númenor and sees something valuable in it, and looks at gondor and sees a lot that he thinks is fucked up. outside of articulating a general angst towards the glory hunting, it’s not like he’s spending time talking about his specific policy prescriptions. however, we do know a few things that can guide us to a more coherent reconstruction of his politics:

he’s pretty rigidly hierarchical (when it’s convenient for him). as seen in: him basically telling sam to fuck off and stay in his lane in WOTW, and in how and when he chooses to refer to his father as ‘father’ vs ‘my lord’ or ‘lord of the city’ in the aftermath of the osgiliath retreat and then before he gets his ass sent back there. i don’t want to go into too much detail here but if i go with this i’ll definitely justify it more thoroughly in the footnotes.

so we’ve got faramir’s emphasis on hierarchy and his occasional (when convenient) belief that the upper echelons of a hierarchy are there because they’re intellectually and/or morally better. or, maybe to remove the causation from that instance, because they are in those upper echelons, they have an obligation to be more morally/intellectually upstanding, and the people in the structure below them have an obligation to show deference. unless you’re faramir and you’re dealing with denethor in which case that all goes out the window. classic.

we know there is some sort of nascent pseudo-democratic tradition of popular sovereignty in gondor. we know this because faramir asks the masses at aragorn’s coronation if they’ll accept him as king. faramir is a lot of things, but he is certainly not a progressive political radical, and i cannot imagine any situation in which he cooked up that rigmarole himself. that then implies to me that it’s building on some sort of political/cultural expectation in gondor. so: some sort of relationship to popular legitimacy. the people of gondor are subjects, but perhaps not as totally passive and unconsidered in the power structure as we might assume given the comparability to feudal europe/asia.

given those two things, i want to use AFTA to argue:

that faramir, in looking to assign blame for the faults he sees in gondor, would not directly assign blame to the lower classes, but rather to the aristocracy, because he will have seen them as failing in their moral obligations to the people they rule over. this is not to say that he isn’t fucked off about The People™ valorising war, but i think he’d take the position that they couldn’t possibly be expected to form those values and opinions of their own volition, and the fault lies in their rules. faramir: not gramscian.

faramir lacks any power that is non-military, and even that is of questionable worth because the rangers seem to be fairly distinct to the general structure of the army, and are not exactly a huge force.

faramir lacking any political power isn’t necessarily a huge concern for him (as in, he’s not actively trying to change that), because he knows he’s not going to lead a moral revolution and isn’t interested in taking up the responsibilities having political capital would engender because he’s stuck dealing with this war, that he fucking hates btw has he mentioned that he hates it?

however, given that he is apparently eminently versed in lore and scholarship, he is probably keenly aware that there is this incipient notion of popular legitimacy somewhere in gondor’s culture. it’s not, for most of his life, knowledge that actually does anything for him, but it is there.

éowyn, meanwhile, doesn’t really have many strong political convictions (yet). not because she’s a dumbass or whatever, but because she looks at court politics as kind of a farce, and doesn’t believe that power legitimately emanates from anywhere that isn’t a Big Fucking Army. and why, strictly speaking, would she not think that? the event that brought about the creation of her kingdom was not careful, soft spoken negotiation, it was her ancestors being in the right place at the right time with a Big Fucking Army.

and the internal politics of the Riddermark actually seem to be fairly stable, all things considered. i sincerely doubt that Théoden or Théodred are having to negotiate complex politicking in the way Denethor and Boromir are. so where, then, would éowyn see that kind of political behaviour outside gondor? with gríma.

éowyn, then, will see the immediate contrast between gríma (backroom dealer, manipulator extraordinaire) and théoden (owner of Big Fucking Army). and gríma goes and fucking wins that fight. that forces éowyn to confront the fact that, jesus christ, maybe there are different types of power.

at the same time, she’s going to be in minas tirith and needing to cover for théoden letting his shit get wrecked. not just because she’s prideful, which of course she is, but because if denethor/gondor think that théoden is too weak to hold up his end of the bargain, why would they ever go help the Mark? éowyn, seeing that théoden’s f-f-fucked, knows that there’s a very very good chance the Mark will need help.

against her feelings about courtly politics, she starts to accept that she’s going to need to do something to get power in gondor. not anything substantial, it’s not like she’s trying to overthrow anybody, but enough that when push comes to shove she can force denethor to help out the Mark (if he doesn’t do so willingly).

but, as ive sort of already shown in AFTA, she’s a bit of a dogshit diplomat. good for a little big-brawny-enforcer stuff, but not exactly brimming with cultural sensitivity. by the time she realises théoden + the Mark are fucked, she’ll have burnt quite a few bridges with the gondorrim nobles, and it’s not like she’s the sort of person to go running cap-in-hand begging for mercy.

so: she has to look elsewhere. and wow! a chance for faramir to do his favourite thing — talk about his opinions! and by god, his weird idealistic politics are… actually kind of helpful? because he’s like, look, you’re never gonna be a diplomat, but there are other ways of consolidating power. and one of those ways is by appealing to The People™. so why not work that angle?

and actually, we know that this is a viable route for éowyn because hama, in arguing for her to take up the mantle of théoden’s heir when théoden and éomer fuck off to helm’s deep, basically says that The People™ love her and would have willingly chosen her to lead them.

we also know, based on faramir’s middle men speech, that the people of gondor and the mark have grown alike in nature. not totally unreasonable to then think that the people of gondor would take to her like the people of the mark did.

éowyn, then, in various ways begins to try to win over the people of minas tirith. i need to do a little more research on this bc what ive got on the practicalities of that so far are a bit, uhhh, sketchy, but the least jargony way to describe this is to point to when natalie dormer’s character in GOT gets out of the carriage to go hug and kiss some babies. (marc bloch, eat your heart out)

this would later segue into a potential sequel where, while trying to secure the way for aragorn’s coronation, éowyn actually plays an interesting role because she’s fallen into this incidental Diana, People’s Princess™ role and so is better positioned than almost anyone to go advocate on his behalf. wow! cool! éowyn getting to be politically useful in more ways than just getting hitched!

so yeah. that’s how i am thinking it might play out. this would obviously have a rolling impact on the remainder of AFTA and how certain (🔥) events pan out later, but i think that building up part has to begin pretty much now, narratively. also this lets me get in a reference to “and then her heart changed, or else at last she understood it” and have it not be almost entirely about wanting to shag faramir, but actually about her gradual evolution from valorising war above all else to being like, hmm, maybe there are other ways of being powerful. which i think still largely captures the “no longer I will vie with the great riders” stuff, but more subtly and without feeling quite so… deferential, I guess? Like it’s not that she’s swapping one form of power (violence) for nothing (gardening?? healing?? tolkien accidental articulation of necropolitics??) but swapping violence for a different type of more sustainable power.

yeah. that’s the take, basically. who fucking knows.

#e writes

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onestowatch · 3 years

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Lollapalooza 2021: 15 Ones to Catch (Who Aren’t Headlining)

Lollapalooza is officially one week away, and wow does that feel good to say. As one of the first music festivals to welcome us back to festival season after a far too long hibernation, the annual festival, hosted at Grant Park in Chicago, Illinois, is set to bring the musical stylings of Tyler, the Creator, Miley Cyrus, Foo Fighters, Megan Thee Stallion, and plenty more. But, unless you’ve been living under a rock, chances are that you’re already more than familiar with the artists set to headline. So why not figure out who to see while you’re waiting to scream along to Call Me If You Get Lost.

From collectives who are moving beyond the need for genres to music that is just as likely to make you cry as it is laugh, these are 15 ones to catch (who aren’t headlining) at Lollapalooza 2021.

Peach Tree Rascals

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When & Where: Sunday, 2 p.m. at Bud Light Seltzer Stage

Peach Tree Rascals’ Lollapalooza set has been a very, very long time coming. The Bay Area–bred collective has been steadily making waves with their genre-bending approach to indie-pop that calls to mind a more idyllic, lovesick BROCKHAMPTON (an act you should most definitely catch as well). And despite emerging a growing fan-favorite in the last couple years, the aforementioned rascals have yet to play a show, ever. With a headline tour that was canceled due to COVID, Lollapalooza will officially be making history as the first-ever Peach Tree Rascals set.

Tate McRae

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When & Where: Saturday, 5:15 p.m. at Grubhub Stage

Tate McRae’s rise through the pop stratosphere has felt meteoric. First gaining fame at the young age of 13 for being the first Canadian finalist on So You Think You Can Dance, McRae has certainly come a long way to stand as one of the most promising voices in pop. With a vocal range more than powerful enough to deliver haunting dark pop ballads like “you broke me first” one moment and stand side-by-side with Khalid on the summer bop “working” the next, there are no two ways about it. McRae is a pop star in the making and this is your chance to catch her before her inevitable headliner status.

Marc Rebillet

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When & Where: Saturday, 9:00 p.m. at Grubhub Stage

Part-time meme and full-time artist, Marc Rebillet creates music with an unmatched comedic timing. It’s a comedic genius that has led to him getting a 24-hour ban on Twitch—for taking his shirt off in the middle of a stream, an act which I’m guessing Lollapalooza will be more than forgiving of giving his penchant for performing in a bathrobe. The self-described improvisational artist creates all his songs from scratch, resulting in an experience where no two live shows are quite the same. Come for the comedy, stay for the absolute dancefloor bangers.

Dayglow

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When & Where: Thursday, 3:45 p.m. at Lake Shore Stage

Dayglow is sure to bring a smile to your face and put a pep in your step. Apologies if I sounded like my grandparents there, but there’s no denying the sonic sunshine that is Dayglow’s rapturous brand of indie-pop. Paying homage to the dance-inducing melancholy of ‘80s pop duets, it’s difficult not to get swept up in the Austin, Texas–bred artist’s hypnotic vision. It’s the sort of euphoric music that feels almost tailor-made for the return of festival season—drenched in sunny rays and brimming with infectious sincerity.

Giveon

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When & Where: Friday, 4:45 p.m. at T-Mobile Stage

Before his breakout moment on Justin Bieber’s “Peaches,” Giveon was already charting his path for R&B domination. With an angelic and haunting baritone, each R&B rumination carries with it a palpable weight—an emotional turmoil that is only elevated by the minimalistic soundscapes which allow the proper space for his transfixing voice to fully shine. For a crash course on Giveon, check out a compilation of his two standout EPs, When It’s All Said and Done… Take Time. Or better yet, experience the magic of Giveon live.

Ashe

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When & Where: Thursday, 6:30 p.m. at Grubhub Stage

Ashe creates effortlessly timeless music, blurring the line between the nostalgic songwriting of Fleetwood Mac and a modern-day folk-pop star. The sentiment is best expressed in her critically-acclaimed debut album, Ashlyn, which demonstrates the Los Angeles artist’s peerless songwriting acumen, toeing the line between rapturous euphoria one moment and deeply affecting storytelling the next. If you need a good laugh or cry, do not miss out on Ashe.

Sir Chloe

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When & Where: Sunday, 12:45 p.m. at T-Mobile Stage

Fronted by Dana Foote and comprised of Teddy O’mara on guitar, Palmer Foote on drums, and Austin Holmes on bass, Sir Chloe’s music exists in the nebulous void of haunting dark pop and heart-rending alternative garage rock. The New York–based indie rock band originally started as a college project, birthed in the music halls of Bennington College, and now they’re set to take Lollapalooza by storm. With an impressive debut album, 2020’s Party Favors, under their belt, this set feels only the beginning for the bewitching indie outfit.

jxdn

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When & Where: Sunday, 3 p.m. at Bud Light Seltzer Stage

jxdn is the latest artist to make good on pop-punk’s continued resurgence. The first signing to Travis Barker’s DTA Records, the breakout singer-songwriter has found a fan in not only the blink-182 star but in Machine Gun Kelly, who jxdn is set to tour with this fall and makes an appearance on his debut album, Tell Me About Tomorrow. With an acclaimed debut album in the books and some of pop-punk’s biggest stars behind him, jxdn is sure to deliver a Lollapalooza debut for the ages.

AG Club

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When & Where: Friday, 7:45 p.m. at Grubhub Stage

AG Club, an abbreviation of avant-garde club, is a genre-less music collective that shares a lot in common with fellow Lollapalooza must-see act, Peach Tree Rascals, including a collaborative single. But don’t get things twisted, this Bay Area collective has their own vision in store for you. With a brash, in-your-face attitude, AG Club is likely to draw comparisons to the Saturation era of BROCKHAMPTON and glory days of ASAP Mob, but with their introspective, omnivorous approach, they deftly manage to emerge as an act all their own. If you want to go where the party is, don’t miss AG Club.

Tai Verdes

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When & Where: Friday, 1:45 p.m. at Bud Light Seltzer Stage

Where would we be without TikTok? I, for one, would be without my preferred form of short-form entertainment and the world be without the infectious pop-R&B stylings of one Tai Verdes. Originally working at Verizon before his breakout single, “Stuck in the Middle,” became a viral hit on TikTok, Verdes is now one of the most promising and rapidly rising acts in music today. And with his debut album, TV, the viral star proved himself no one-hit-wonder, delivering a collection of tracks that span a range of emotions and genres that we cannot wait to experience live.

Dominic Fike

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When & Where: Thursday, 7:45 p.m. at Grubhub Stage

Dominic Fike is a musical chameleon. First breaking out with his unassuming radio hit “3 Nights,” to only jump into the absolute vibe that is the Kenny Beats–assisted “Phone Numbers,” and culminate it all with the genre-spanning debut album, What Could Possibly Go Wrong, Fike is an artist whose limitations seem limitless. It’s a notion that plays out in his breathtaking live show, reworking his hits with an insatiable appetite until they’re songs that exist only in that singular moment. Fike’s is set you will not want to miss.

Oliver Tree

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When & Where: Thursday, 9 p.m. at Grubhub Stage

Alternative auteur Oliver Tree is nothing if not unpredictable. Flaunting his signature JNCO jeans and an impressive professional razor scooter pedigree, the inimitable artist delivers on an infectious blend of alternative, electronic, hip-hop, and pop that defies any simplistic classification. And with his debut album, Ugly Is Beautiful, now out in the wild after a much-hyped cancellation and subsequent surprise release, Tree has more than his fair share of music to pull from. Plus, given his penchant for going in and out of retirement like he’s trying to break a record only known to him, it’s probably best not to miss this set.

RMR

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When & Where: Sunday, 2:45 p.m. at Tito’s Handmade Vodka Stage

RMR originally made headlines with his breakout single, “RASCAL,” a transfixing country trap ballad that saw the rapper donning a black balaclava and Saint Laurent bulletproof vest while rapping over an interpolation of Rascal Flatts’ “Bless The Broken Road.” Since then, the anonymous rapper has been spotted hitting the town with Sharon Stone and embracing his penchant for melodic trap in the Westside Gunn, Future, Lil Baby, and Young Thung–loaded Drug Dealing Is a Lost Art. Existing at the fusion of trap country and melodic rap, RMR’s Lolla set is one you’re not likely to forget anytime soon.

Chiiild

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When & Where: Sunday, 12:00 p.m. at Lake Shore Stage

Nostalgic and novel, Chiiild’s self-described brand of “synthetic soul” is nothing short of intoxicating. Setting its own sauntering pace, Chiiild’s unique take on R&B and soul takes on a cosmic energy, as if floating through a wormhole with nothing but a single cassette deck on hand. It’s a testament to the Canadian band’s all-encompassing approach that draws upon not just R&B and soul but psychedelia, jazz, indie, and pop to craft a sound that is all their own. Take a trip on Sunday, and meet us at Chiiild.

All Time Low

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When & Where: Thursday, 6 p.m. at Tito’s Handmade Vodka Stage

Because teenage you wasn’t old enough to convince your parents to let you see All Time Low the first time “Dear Maria, Count Me In” was trending.

#lollapalooza #lollapalooza 2021 #tate mcrae #peach tree rascals #marc rebillet #dayglow #giveon #ashe #sir chloe #jxdn #ag club #tai verdes #dominic fike #oliver tree #rmr #chiiild #all time low

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words-writ-in-starlight · 3 years

Note

okay, i'm taking that as an invitation: PLEASE post your annotations for the kencyrath playlist?

OKAY SURE TWIST MY ARM I GUESS

Actually this playlist is...long as hell, BUT there’s only like twelve people in this fandom and I’m in a group chat with half of them, so everything is here but it’s got a cut for length because my annotations are Specific.

THE BASICS (in no particular order)

Can’t Cheat Death by the Ballroom Thieves, for Jame, no further comment, I am Correct

I spilled blood in the water Then let the storm roll in I put my hands in the fire Watched my welcome wear thin Salt in my wounds and spit in my eye I burned the path you walk on And I let none survive

Thistles and Weeds by Mumford & Sons, for Torisen, who is a good leader and also falling apart

Spare me your judgements and spare me your dreams Cause recently mine have been tearing my seams I sit alone in this winter clarity which clouds my mind

Hey Brother by Avicii, for Jame and Tori, in all ways

Hey brother, do you still believe in one another? Hey sister, do you still believe in love, I wonder? Oh, if the sky comes falling down For you, there's nothing in this world I wouldn't do

Human by Rag’n’Bone Man, for Kindrie Soul-walker, out of his depth and doing his best

Maybe I'm foolish, maybe I'm blind Thinking I can see through this and see what's behind Got no way to prove it, so maybe I'm lying

Soldier, Poet, King by the Oh Hellos, for the Tyr-ridan (I have considered learning to draw SPECIFICALLY to do a comic of this song featuring Jame as the soldier, Kindrie as the poet, and Tori as the king, but I couldn’t pick a verse because it’s not a very long song)

Home to Me by Devil and the Deep Blue Sea, for Jame and Tori, which I would ALSO do a line-by-line breakdown of as a duet, because I love it for them

(Tori) How dare you love me like you've never known fear When you've got more troubles than minutes in the year (Jame) And a voice like your father's tells you nothing good's for free Well that may be, but you're walking home to me

Dear Wormwood by the Oh Hellos, the ORIGINAL Bane/Jame song, for which I could easily do a line-by-line breakdown cast as a duet between them, the song that I, personally, would set over their last conversation before Bane’s death and over Jame’s flight from the palace, if I was making a TV series, just, you know, if anyone wants to kick me a couple million bucks

I know who I am now And all that you've made of me I know who you are now And I name you my enemy

Glitter & Gold by Barns Courtney, for the Kendar, survivors to the last

Do you walk in the valley of kings? Do you walk in the shadow of men Who sold their lives to a dream? Do you ponder the manner of things In the dark?

Delilah by Florence + the Machine, for Jamethiel Dreamweaver, the first unfallen darkling, the finest weapon and cruelest victim of the Master’s schemes, and for her daughter, who saw more and ran faster

Too fast for freedom Sometimes it all falls down These chains never leave me I keep dragging them around

We Have It All by Pim Stones, for Tyrandis, just...listen to it, I’m right

There's glory ahead, but our love will be forgotten If my heart was still mine, I would go to the bottom And apologise to you until the day it went rotten

Mercy Down by Shayfer James, which is THE definitive song for the entire Kencyrath--half-desperate for their missing destiny, half-terrified of that destiny when it shows up at their door.

It’s getting mythical now You better pick your weapons up And throw your mercy, throw your mercy down

THE EXTENDED STUFF (loosely sorted by topic)

Control by Halsey, for Jame, heir to the Dreamweaver, Snare-of-Souls, and learning to dance and running away

They sent me away to find them a fortune A chest filled with diamonds and gold The house was awake, with shadows and monsters The hallways, they echoed and groaned

Little Boy by Barns Courtney, for Torisen holding the bones of a little girl who died at the same age as his long lost twin sister

Little boy inside my chest Breathe some life into my bones I've been lost and wandering Down and out and missing home

The Draw by Bastille, for Torisen and the shade of Ganth and the promise of madness on a sleepless night

Don't listen to your friends See the despair behind their eyes Don't listen to your friends They only care and want to know why

Carry Your Throne by Jon Bellion, for Jame and Tori at their best, kissing in the ashfall and dancing in Tentir

Two crowns and a gold cup And they're coming for the throne, love But if your heart is a dog fight Then I'm ready to go to war like

Coming Down by Halsey, for Jame and the twin she loves, who is always, always running away from her

Every single night pray the sun will rise Every single time make a compromise Every single night pray the sun will rise, but It's coming down, down, coming down

Graveyard by Halsey, for Jame and Tori and dreams and the soulscape and running and chasing and trying

I keep running when both my feet hurt I won't stop 'til I get where you are Oh, when you go down all your darkest roads I woulda followed all the way to the graveyard

Thick as Thieves by Shinedown, for Jame and Tori, who can barely have a civil conversation but still manage to be each other’s answer to the concept of ‘home’

Evidently, we can't work it out I guess that courage ain't allowed Evidently, you're not in the mood And everything I say just bothers you

The Horror of Our Love by Ludo, for Bane and Jame, and blood and binding, and shadows crossing continents

I'm a killer, cold and wrathful Silent sleeper, I've been inside your bedroom I've murdered half the town Left you love notes on their headstones I'll fill the graveyards until I have you

Irresistible by Fall Out Boy, for Bane in Tai-tastigon, a prince of the city and a monster in his beloved’s kitchen

Too many war wounds and not enough wars Too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores Too many sharks, not enough blood in the waves You know I give my love a four letter name

Hellfire by Barns Courtney, for Bane, giving your soul to the wrong person, and the Lower Town

Run in an alleyway Through a dead end street Murdering promises That I just can't keep

Punch Drunk Grinning Soul by Flogging Molly, for all the Kendar who keep surviving disasters while their people fall all around them, and especially for Marc and Brier

But these tired eyes are crashing down on me While the paint never dries on these four walls that now suffocate me But tonight, maybe tonight all will be free

Sleepsong by Bastille, for soulscapes and locked doors and armor and hidden gardens and a whole race with a collective unconscious who still manage to be awfully lonely

Oh, in the strangest dreams, walking by your side It is the hole you impose upon your life When you're out, loneliness, it crawls up in the ground It's what you feel, but can't articulate out loud

Bad Decisions by Bastille, for Tentir and all the children there who thought they were immortal

Do you remember what you said to me? 'Cause we lost track of time Yeah, we lost track of time You always let me down so tenderly So live fast and die young and stay forever numb

For The Departed by Shayfer James, for every Kendar who’s ever sold a soul, broken under Honor’s Paradox, died in service, and gone unremembered

So dry your eyes and count to ten They'll have me on the pyre by then Forget the man I used to be You'll move along more easily

Bones by MS MR, for death banners, and for the dead of Kithorn, and for Dalis-sar, depending on my mood

Dig up her bones but leave the soul alone Let her find a way to a better place Broken dreams and silent screams Empty churches with soulless curses We found a way to escape the day

I Am Stretched On Your Grave by Dead Can Dance, for sisterkin, for the massacre of the Knorth women, but especially for Brenwyr and her ghost and her maledight madness

Calling out to the air With tears both hot and wild Oh I grieve for the girl That I loved as a child

NFWMB by Hozier, for Brenwyr and Aerulan (and could be for Jame and Tori but he’s, you know, an ostrich with his head buried in his own trauma)

Ain't it a gentle sound, the rolling in the graves? Ain't it like thunder under earth, the sound it makes? Ain't it exciting you, the rumble where you lay? Ain't you my baby, ain't you my baby?

Church by Fall Out Boy, for everyone who’s ever fallen in love with Jame, from Dally to Torisen

Oh, the things that you do in the Name of what you love You are doomed but just enough

Renegades by X Ambassadors, for the good times in Tai-tastigon with Dally and Canden

It's our time to make a move It's our time to make amends It's our time to break the rules Let's begin

Breath of Life by Florence + the Machine, for everyone who’s ever fallen to the Knorth glamour and paid dearly for it

But I needed one more touch Another taste of heavenly rush And I believe, I believe it's so

#kencyrath #chronicles of the kencyrath #jame priests bane #torisen black lord #kindrie soul walker #and...everyone else basically. eventually.#i have BIG thoughts about some of these (like dear wormwood and home to me and hey brother. just as a sample.)#and others (like punch drunk grinning soul) i just threw on there because I Vibed With It #THERE'S NO SYSTEM except also the system is elaborate #i certainly can't explain it either way #this was a delightful way to cruise comfortably down off a day of hyperfocus #i love these books so much #i love the music i put together for them #it all just FEELS very on point to me personally #AND IN A FANDOM THIS SMALL WHAT ELSE MATTERS #well actually in any fandom what else matters #i think i am losing focus here #a queue we shall keep and our honor someday avenge #smallblueandloud #asked and answered

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itsjackgilbert · 3 years

Text

Situation Comedy

INSCRUTABLE MUSIC-VIDEO GENIUS MAKES MOVIE. IT'S VERY GOOD. INSCRUTABLE FILMMAKER DOES MAGAZINE INTERVIEW. IT'S VERY BIZARRE. A VERY SMALL GLIMPSE INTO THE INSULAR WORLD OF SPIKE JONZE, WHERE MAKING AWESOMELY STRANGE FILMS, WEARING FAKE PENISES, AND GETTING BEAT UP (SORT OF) ALL ARE PART OF THE SCENERY

BY ZEV BOROW

"He came to visit me once and when he first arrived I got a phone call that I had to come pick him up because his car had been impounded because he'd been chased by, like, ten cops on bikes after he drove his car onto these little fairgrounds and did a bunch of doughnuts. So, then I had to drive him around all weekend." — Three Kings director David O. Russell

"Actors are more consistent. They tend to land their tricks." — filmmaker Spike Jonze, on who is easier to direct, actors or skaters.

"He wanted his brother to be in Three Kings, so he shot an audition tape with his brother doing the Sharon Stone role in Basic Instinct, crossing and uncrossing his legs. It was the weirdest fucking thing I've ever seen." — David O. Russell

I meet Spike Jonze at the production offices of his new movie, Being John Malkovich, which is a bizarre comedy about a love triangle between three people who find a secret portal into John Malkovich's head behind a file cabinet in an office building where the ceilings are four feet high. John Cusack and Cameron Diaz and Catherine Keener are in it. So is John Malkovich. It's really good and weird and funny, though not always in that order. Spike Jonze directed it.

Jonze is 29 years old and sort of famous for directing some of the best music videos ever made: the Beastie Boys' "Sabotage"; Fatboy Slim's "Praise You"; Weezer's "Buddy Holly"; Björk's "It's Oh So Quiet"; and other really good ones, too. He's also made some excellent commercials and two interesting short films. However, mostly because of the exceedingly cool videos he's done for, mostly, exceedingly cool people, Jonze has also become famous for being exceedingly cool. A wide and deep selection of the hippest people alive dig Jonze. They are his friends. This past July Jonze married actress, filmmaker, and fellow sort-of-famous person Sofia Coppola. Tom Waits sang at their wedding. Tom fucking Waits.

Jonze is small and wiry, with the body and demeanor of a skateboarder, which he is. He is relaxed, unfailingly polite, and has a voice suggesting a 15-year-old boy. When we meet he is wearing a T-shirt and scuffed-up $350 Marc Jacobs shoes. He tells me he's supposed to meet with Knox, an as-yet-unknown guitar player, to discuss ideas for his video and invites me along. But first we go to buy a big bag of cat food for his cat.

Jonze says Knox plays "sort of country-funkabilly-Prince-like music...really beautiful stuff." A friend gave him a tape, he says, and he fell in love with it. We get lost trying to find Knox's house.

When we finally arrive, Knox says he was asleep because Jonze was supposed to arrive hours ago. Jonze says he's sorry, that it must have been his assistant's fault. Knox is tall, with short, dark hair styled vaguely pompadour-ish. His apartment is small. Neil Young in on the CD player. An acoustic guitar rests in the corner.

"I'm the only one in the band, so I do the whole gig," Knox says. "My old man was a guitarist and my mother was, like...well, she was a capable pianist, not great. I'm from Tenness–Knoxville–that's why I go by Knox. My mother ahd a baby two years before me, a little boy, and it died at birth, and I am, like, the copy of that kid. And my little brother almost died at birth 'cause of me, so it's kind of all cyclical. But I'm still tweaking it. So, uh, what kind of ideas do you have?"

Jonze talks about making a video that's not very commercial, about something that's cool in and of itself.

Knox: "I just don't want it to be cute. Don't take this as an affront, but some of your videos are...cute. The 'Buddy Holly' thing was little fucking cute. I was thinking more of an early John Cugar-type of thing. Like 'Jack and Diane.' Maybe with some of the words on the bottom of the screen."

Jonze: "Uh, cool.... But it’s also cool to do something maybe not as literal.” He asks Knox if he wants to be in the video. Knox says maybe just his face, as a child.

Jonze says he could come over with a video camera and they could try some stuff out.

Knox: “Like what?”

Jonze: “Well, I don’t want to just throw stuff out.”

Knox: “Well, I’m not going to steal your stuff.”

Jonze laughs, sort of. There is an awkward silence.

Jonze: “How about a video with Xeroxes, just as a cool medium?”

Knox: “Yeah, well, that sounds schticky. Xeroxes are schticky.”

Jonze tries to say something about form. Knox says he likes “the Jazzercize” video Jonze did.

Jonze: “‘Praise you.’ Cool.”

Knox turns toward me and says he doesn’t think Spike looks very into it. Jonze says he doesn’t want to do anything he’s done already. He asks Knox if he saw the video he did for Sean Lennon.

Knox: “Nah. That guy’s too fuckin’ avant garde for me.”

Jonze: “No, I’m not saying that. It’s just I don’t want to make something silly out of your song, but at the same time....” He trails off.

There’s a tense silence, then Knox turns to me and asks if I have any ideas for videos. I tell him I don’t. Knox says “fuck,” loudly.

Jonze: “Look, I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do, and if you don’t really like my stuff maybe we shouldn’t work together. I like working with people who are....”

Knox: “Yeah, well...fuck.... Well, if you come up with some ideas, any ideas, call, but I just...shit.”

Jonze: “I should go.”

Jonze gets up. Knox begins to pace. Then he screams, “Fuck!” and throws a small wooden chair Jonze had been sitting on against the wall. It shatters.

Jonze: “Dude, chill.”

Knox: “I think you better leave!”

Jonze: “I was just....”

Knox: “Just fucking leave!”

Then Knox pushes Jonze into a wall, hard. I think to myself: Spike Jonze is about to get his ass kicked. Then, like a panther (or jaguar), Jonze jumps at Knox. They hit the floor. Jonze is on top of Knox, throwing punches at his head. After about 15 seconds, I pull them apart. Knox gets up and screams, “Wait right fucking there!” and runs into a back room. Jonze looks at me and says, “Let’s get the fuck out of here!” and runs out the door, fast.

Knox jumps out from the back room, glowering and holding a baseball bat.

DRIVING AWAY, JONZE MUSES ABOUT HOW “HECTIC” things got with Knox. He repeatedly pushes his face toward the rearview mirror and asks if I think his eye looks swollen. It doesn’t. He says nothing like that has ever happened to him before, except once “with Everlast, but it never got physical.” We pull into a 7-Eleven and he gets a juice and some Advil.

I try to ask some more questions about the movie. “I’m apprehensive about talking about it at all,” he says, “because I feel like it’s going to cloud someone’s opinion. You think about all the movies you had preconceived notions about, about all the ones you read stuff about until you were sick of them before you even saw them.

SPIKE JONZE’S REAL NAME IS ADAM SPIEGEL. He isn’t interested in talking about why, or when, he started going by Spike Jonze, or how much it has to do with Spike Jones, the 1940s band leader, but it’s probably related to the fact he grew up hanging out with a lot of competitive BMX bikers similarly fond of pseudonyms and alter egos. He was raised in Bethesda, Maryland, a well-heeled suburb of Washington, D.C., where his mother enjoyed photography and his father enjoyed being the scion of an extremely successful family-owned catalog company. Jonze is the middle child (younger brother; older sister) and was into skateboarding, photography, lots of Dischord-era punk rock, and, most of all, BMX.

In the mid-’80s, BMXing’s popularity was exploding, and Jonze was spending much of his time at Rockville BMX, a legendary retail and mail-order BMX shop in nearby Rockville, Maryland. At age 15, he accompanied the Haro pro-BMX team on a summer tour of the U.S., serving as part-time roadie, contest announcer, T-shirt salesperson, and using an old 35-millimeter camera, team photographer. By the time he was 16, he was writing and taking pictures for skate and bike magazines. At 17, immediately after finishing high school, he moved to Torrance, California, to work at Freestylin’, the sport’s preeminent glossy. There, he met Mark Lewman and Andy Jenkins, two kindred spirits.

“We were all living together in this apartment across the street from the magazine’s offices, in the Valley, which was like the epicenter of the skateboarding and BMX world,” says Lewman, who was 18 at the time and is now a creative director at Lambesis, a San Diego–based advertising agency that deciphers youth culture. “We’d skate to work, ride ramps, listen to Black Flag and Eric B. and Rakim, and get into adventures drinking Night Train, being weird, and stomping around downtown L.A.”

They’d also make zines. First, in 1991, Homeboy, then, two years later, Dirt. Clever and funny, they became popular with the 25-and-under, proto-extreme-sport, punk/rap-inclined hipster set. During this time, Jonze also started getting hired to take photos for magazines such as Details and Interview. And he began filming skateboarding videos, including one particular deft collaboration with ‘80s skate god Mark Gonzales titled Blind Skateboard Video.

One night, backstage at a Sonic Youth concert, Gonzales gave a copy of that tape to his friend Kim Gordon, who dug it so much that she asked Tamra Davis–who had just directed her first film, Gun Crazy, and had yet to become the wife of Beastie Boy Mike D.–to work with Jonze on shooting some skateboarding segments for Sonic Youth’s video for the song “100%.” He was 21.

Jonze has always lived in something of a rarefied world inhabited by bikers, skaters, emerging rock icons, and movie stars. Even so, he notes, he first met the Beastie Boys through his sister. She and Adam Yauch met in traffic school. The Beasties and Jonze share an appreciation for the absurd. Yauch and Jonze used to do things like rent police uniforms so they could direct traffic in Manhattan.

A few short years after “100%,” Jonze was established as America’s preeminent director of unusual music videos. This fact seemed to bore him. In 1998′s Fatboy Slim “Praise You” video, the one with the dancers in front of Mann’s Chinese Theatre in Hollywood, Jonze credited the direction to Richard Koufey and the Torrance Community Dancers. To this day, Jonze denies having been a part of it. Earlier this year, a typed letter arrived at the Spin offices vehemently demanding Spin retract its report that Jonze directed the video. It was signed Richard Koufey and included a detailed résumé for Koufey that stated he was a dancer in the “Thriller” video, the “Love Shack” video, the film Dirty Dancing, and something called “Dancextravaganza” at the opening of a Dellamo Fashion Center.

IN ADDITION TO BEING JOHN MALKOVICH, Jonze has another movie coming out, one in which he acts. It’s called Three Kings and was written and directed by David O’Russell. The two met when Jonze hired Russell to help him write a script for Harold and the Purple Crayon, which was to be a partially animated adaption of the children’s book, and Jonze’s feature-film debut, but never made it into production. Jonze costars in Three Kings with George Clooney, Ice Cube, and Mark Wahlberg. They play four U.S. soldiers who try to steal a secret cache of Kuwaiti gold at the end of the Gulf War. It’s a different, very sharp war-genre picture. Jonze plays a redneck private who is the sidekick of Wahlberg’s more seasoned soldier.

“I’d never really acted before,” Jonze says. “A few little things with friends, but nothing serious. And it’s not like I really want to get into acting. But David was really into me doing it, and Mark was especially supportive. In some ways I feel like I had no right to do it. But it was a lot of fun.”

Russell recalls Jonze’s commitment to the project. “He stayed in character a lot on set, and I think he eventually regretted it because Mark started beating the shit out of him as if Spike was really his tagalong sidekick. We tried telling Mark to go easy on him, but he was in character too. I think Spike was upset that that was happening.

AMONG THOSE IMMERSED IN THE CULT of Spike Jonze, the Weird Al prank is infamous. As partially recounted in an issue of the Beastie Boys’ zine, Grand Royal, Mike D. and Russell Simins, the drummer for Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, interviewed by Weird Al. During the interview, they got the conversation to come around to the Beatles. Precisely at that moment, they had Sean Lennon and Yoko Ono walk by and staged something weird and funny. No one at Grand Royal can remember exactly what happened, but it included Spike Jonze dressed up as a waiter.

I didn’t know of the Weird Al prank until weeks after meeting Jonze. As such, I spent a good portion of my evening immediately following the Knox vs. Jonze incident breathlessly telling friends all about their fight, until a friend, a longtime skater, looked at me and matter-of-factly said: “He staged it.”

Two days after the fight I go to meet Jonze for lunch, and, even though I’m not sure, I tell him I now that the afternoon with Knox was staged. Jonze demurs. “That would be gnarly” he says. “Maybe we should come back to this topic after lunch.

We pull into a Carl’s Jr. Things between us are slightly tense. I keep pressing him on the issue as we walk into the restaurant. Jonze doesn’t say anything until he’s just about to order at the counter, then he says we should walk outside. I follow him into the parking lot toward a parked black sedan. There is a guy in dark sunglasses sitting there, sipping on a Coke.

“Dude, it’s off,” Jonze says. “We’re busted.”

Jonze then reveals that he’d “planned something” for right there, right then, at the Carl’s Jr. We all had back inside the restaurant, where Jonze begins walking around the seating area and tapping on what appear to be lonely Carl’s Jr. diners on the shoulder. There are four of them, strategically placed; two have video cameras hidden on them, on has a regular camera. Two of them, including the guy from the car, who is Jeff Tremaine, the art director of the skateboarding magazine Big Brother, are wearing hidden microphones.

“This was going to be an all-out assault,” Tremaine says. “I was going to walk by and bump into Spike and my drink was going to fall all over me. And then I was going to get all jacked at Spike and knock some shit on him and get into a fight.”

“I was actually going to take a punch this time,” Jonze says, “but I was also going to bite down on some blood pellets.” He shows me two small capsules of fake blood. “I wanted the whole article to be about how I keep getting my ass kicked.”

“I was going to knock over the salad bar,” Tremaine says. “We were going to have the whole thing on tape. I twas going to be a turkey shoot, like Kennedy.”

“You are all extremely fucked up,” I tell them.

Jonze says he started planning for it late last night and tells everyone he’s sorry he didn’t go through with it. Tremaine tells Jonze that he was excited to punch him. Then, everyone tells me some stories of previous pranks, the best of which is described as simply the Hard-On One. It goes something like this:

The guy who played Knox yesterday–a friend of Jonze’s who also pulls stunts like getting himself hit by a car (for a Big Brother photo shoot) and shooting himself with a gun while wearing a bulletproof vest (for fun)–puts on a pair of flimsy gym shorts, out of which sticks a large, fake rubber penis. Then, he goes out and gets into a pickup basketball game. Next, he walks into a guitar store, where, when a salesman hands him a cord to plug in, the salesman is pulled toward the fake rubber penis. After that, he makes a quick stop at a karate studio, from which he is quickly removed. Finally, he goes to get measured for a tux, where, according to Jonze, the tailor exclaims [in a thick Indian accent], “What? You always run around with your dick sticking out?”

“It’s amazing,” Jonze says. “We’ve got the whole thing on tape.”

After Carl’s Jr., Spike lobbies me to concoct a wild, made-up story with him, one I could submit in lieu of the article. He’s got some funny, clever ideas for it, too.

“SPIKE DIDN’T GROW UP WATCHING A TON OF FILMS or even TV,” says Kim Gordon, who has known Spike ever since he worked on “100%.” “So he’s not tied to any sense of history image-wise, the way most people are. He just has a real instinctual feel for what people like. And he’s willing to try absolutely anything.”

“I think he kind of looks at everything like it’s a chance to take a golf cart and make it go 60 miles per hour,” says his old friend Lewman. “It’s always been about having a really good time.” Even so, by all accounts Jonze is meticulous, tireless even, whether it concerns a feature film, or taking down a Carl’s Jr. salad bar. His willingness to go to almost any lengths to maintain the integrity of any project–no matter how seemingly small, trivial, or twisted–is nothing short of spectacular. It is probably the one quality that best portends him making very good movies for a long time. A vast portion of Jonze’s creative energies are consumed by these tiny, hysterical performances that will never make any money, that are solely for the benefit of himself and his like-minded friends.

“But it’s not about being weird for weird’s sake,” Lewman says. “I mean, Malkovich is a movie that, at its heart, is about something everyone can relate to–desperately wanting to be someone else.... I think a lot of how [Jonze] looks at the world might come from skating and biking. You do that as a kid and you don’t look at things normally. You look at a hockey rink and see a place to skateboard. You look at a bench as a thing to do tricks off of.”

I SEE JONZE ONE MORE TIME. HE MAKES IT OBVIOUS he’d rather I not write about the Knox and Carl’s Jr. pranks. Further, he mostly turns off my tape recorder any time I start to ask him anything. He tells me he doesn’t know what to do because he doesn’t want to come off as a guy who is lucky enough to make cool movies with big stars but is all petulant about talking to the press. He tells me again how anything he says as far as explanation of his own work is less interesting than someone’s own interpretation of his, or any, movie. About an hour passes. I ask him to name some of his favorite movies and filmmakers.

“I like stuff that is unpredictable in terms of tone,” he says. “I like Tim Burton, The World According to Garp, Being There, all the Coen brothers’ stuff. I feel really lucky to even have the opportunity to try to make those kinds of movies.”

I ask about his movie, about what Malkovich was like.

“He’s just amazing. Really genuinely eccentric. He heard about the script and contacted us, loved the idea. It was weird because he plays himself in the movie, but it’s not really him, it’s the script’s idea of him. Whenever I see him do the Dance of Despair and Disillusionment, I’m like, this guy is my hero.”

The Dance of Despair and Disillusionment is reason alone to see Being John Malkovich. In the movie, John Cusack plays a puppeteer who enters the body of John Malkovich and forces him to give up acting for puppeteering. At one point, Malkovich acts out the dance he wants to be his ultimate master-puppeteer work, the Dance of Despair and Disillusionment. Just out of the shower, he acts it out in a towel. David Fincher, the director of Seven and Fight Club, fellow former music-video director, and close friend of Jonze, calls it “up there with Butch and Sundance jumping off the cliff, as far as greatest movie moments ever go.”

I try to get Jonze to talk about other things, videos, his commercial work. (Jonze often shoots commercials, the most recent being Lee Jeans’ “Buddy Lee” spots.) He won’t. A few days later, we talk on the phone. He asks how I’ve decided to “handle” the article, says he knows I’ll write “something good.” The next day, I call him back, ask him to clear up some factual stuff, dates he worked on things, how he first met certain people. He’s not into it. But, before we get off the phone, he does answer one question.

Me: Where did the idea for the “Sabotage” video come from?

Jonze: “Australia.”

#spike jonze #spin magazine

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hgfyfguj · 3 years

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sincerelyreidburke · 4 years

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Alright so, Could you please entertain me with how Nando would react to seeing Quinn in stage makeup?

Yes.

freshman year | march

If there’s one thing Nando has learned after several months of dating a theatre boy, it’s this: the drama club does not fuck around.

Like, as in, Quinn was already in rehearsal when he woke up this morning and now Nando’s game for the day— AKA his sole Saturday obligation— is finished and they’re still there . It was a matty game, but still . Quinn has literally been in the auditorium for, like, eight hours.

Nando knows why, though. Six days from now is opening night for the show. And today, as Quinn explained to him several times, is ‘load-in followed by a double run’, which is apparently drama club code for We Are Going To Be Here Literally All Day.

He understands, though. He knows. They’re busy. They have a whole musical to put on next weekend, and the weekend after that too. And Quinn himself is super busy, because, well, he’s the big cheese! He’s the lead. He’s putting the Evan Hansen in Dear Evan Hansen.

Nando is a ridiculously proud boyfriend.

Also, he cannot wait to finally see this show next weekend.

All that stands between him and that is what today signals the start of: tech week. Quinn has had some things to say about it. He’ll probably have more things to say about it. Nando wonders if he’s going to be nervous this week.

He’ll help him if he is; he’ll be here for him.. He’s going to blow this show out of the water. Nando knows it.

They win the game 6-1. He leaves the rink to an outdoor temperature which, miraculously, is something besides absolutely freezing. The sun hasn’t set or anything yet, but it’s getting later in the day, and it’s overcast and sort of gross out. “Hey,” Ben says, bumping against him as they walk. “Where are you headed right now?”

Nando glances at his phone. It’s 4:45. Theoretically , Quinn is supposed to be done at 5:00. But Nando also knows by now that the Kiersey drama club is notorious for breaking their rehearsal end-time promises.

“That’s… a good question,” he replies, looking up at Ben. “Where are you going?”

Ben shrugs. “I might hit the Beech, if Rem’s up for it.”

Nando nods. “Sweet.”

Ben tucks a loose strand of sweaty hair up into his bun, watching expectantly like he’s waiting for Nando’s answer. But he seems to read his mind, because a second later, he asks, “Is Q still in rehearsal?”

“I think so.” Nando grins a little. “They have him under lock and key.”

Ben smiles fully, and jostles his shoulder. “Duuude,” he says. “You must feel deprived.”

Nando knows he’s being chirped, but Ben never misses an opportunity to chirp him, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. “I do miss him,” he says. “But I’m so excited to see this show.”

“Oh, he’ll kick ass.” Ben pauses. “I can’t imagine that guy doing anything at less than a hundred and twenty percent.”

“You’re right.” Nando’s insides are mush. He wants to see Quinn. They should watch a movie tonight. Or something. As long as he can hold him. “Are you gonna come see it?”

“Yeah,” Ben replies. “We can do student BOGO night.” He winks. “I’ll be your date to make him jealous.”

Nando laughs at the gray sky. “Yeah, okay.”

From behind them come rapid footfalls, and then Remy appears at Ben’s other side, half out of breath with hair still sort of wet from the showers. “You guys suck,” he announces. “You left me in the dust.”

“Dude, I thought you were with Marc,” Ben says.

“I was .” Remy pauses and looks over his shoulder. Nando glances behind them, too— Jordy and Sam are a few yards back. “But I meant to catch up with you. Where are you going?”

Nando is hungry, and he has an idea. “I think,” he says, “I’m gonna go get food and then intercept Quinn on his way out of rehearsal.”

Ben flicks his wrist and makes a whip-cracking noise. Nando shoves him, and they laugh together.

“Okay, well, you have fun with that, lover boy,” Remy replies. He looks to Ben. “Beech?”

Ben nods affirmatively. “Beech.”

They part ways at the corner; the rest of the guys head for Beech Street and the hockey house, and Nando makes a beeline for the Bluegrass Café. He likes this, the balance in his social life— his friends chirp him to no end, but there’s always plenty of friend time and boyfriend time. He loves the team, and he loves Quinn too.

Of course, he hasn’t, uh. Said that yet. He wants to let Quinn say it first, so he doesn’t rush or pressure him.

He walks across campus to Bluegrass, where he picks up a to-go order— Swiss and rye grilled cheese, with a serving of fries, a cookie, and a hot tea with plenty of honey. He’s sort of hungry, too, but Quinn never finishes his fries. And plus, there are snacks back in Quinn’s room.

From the café to Beckett, the performing arts building, it’s a five-minute walk. The Nando of fall semester would be bitching about the wind chill, but today it’s really not so bad. The scarf Quinn knit him for Christmas has proved to come in very handy.

He carries the paper bag of food in one hand and the tea in the other. When he gets to the auditorium lobby, there isn’t a theatre kid in sight— which means they’re all still inside— but the good news is that he can’t hear any music in there, which means they’re doing notes.

And yeah. He knows theatre terms now. Like ‘doing notes’.

He really, really loves his life.

He sits on his standard bench, where more than once this musical season he’s sat to wait for Quinn after a rehearsal. When it gets to be 5:03 and there’s no sign of anyone leaving, he digs out his phone, puts the tea down on the arm of the bench, and looks through his Instagram to pass the time. Parker, their captain, posted a picture five minutes ago, of himself with David and Ville, taken after the game today. They’re all in their jerseys, just off the ice. It’s really wholesome. His caption is road to playoffs!!!!!

Nando is going to miss the seniors so much.

There isn’t much else in his feed, which is kind of boring, but he’s too preoccupied trying to wait for a sign of life from the backstage door that it doesn’t really make a difference. Finally, at 5:14— which really is not that late— a small group comes out of the stage door, chattering away. Among them is Quinn’s friend, Maggie, who Nando is at least ninety percent sure is playing his friend in the show. She spots him and waves. “Hey, Sebastián!”

“Hi!” He smiles. If there are people coming, Quinn can’t be far behind. “How did it go?”

Maggie grins back. She was one of the first drama club kids to be nice to him despite his jock-ery, and for that he’ll always be grateful. “It was fun!” she says. “Quinn’s coming. He was just talking to the director.”

“Sweet.” Nando has sort of been waiting all day for this. He feels the takeout bag, and, thank God, it’s still warm. He waves as Maggie leaves. “Have a good night!”

“See ya later!”

More cast and crew people start to filter out the stage door after Maggie and her group. They all go in different directions, some talking, some singing, some arguing. Some acknowledge him, and others don’t. He knows it’s sort of a scandal that their prodigal freshman is dating a gross hockey player.

He’s getting just slightly restless when, finally, a strawberry-haired cutie emerges from the door he’s been watching. Quinn is in a white cotton scarf and looking at his phone, and Nando grins a little, leans back on the bench, and plays casual while he waits for him to look up.

A few steps out of the door, he does, and Nando watches a smile cross his face as they meet eyes across the lobby. “Oh,” Quinn laughs. “I just texted you.”

Nando grins. “Hey, baby,” he hums, and then stands to go greet him. His phone buzzes in his pocket, which must be the text.

He meets him halfway across the lobby and wraps him in a squishy hug. Quinn is so small in his arms that he can rest his chin right on top of his head, and he gives him a good squeeze.

“Oh—” Quinn’s voice is muffled in his team jacket. “Be careful.”

“Careful of what?” Nando asks, pulling back to meet his eyes— but right as Quinn responds, he sees it.

“I’m wearing makeup,” Quinn says, and— and yeah . He is.

It’s subtle, Nando knows this much. And he’ll be the first to admit he knows absolutely nothing about makeup, let alone stage makeup, but— but. Quinn is definitely wearing it. There’s some kind of powder, and he’s pretty sure there’s also blush, and eyeliner, and— mascara? Or do his eyelashes just look like that? Nando has no idea, but—

— but he looks— beautiful.

He gapes down at him for what must be a slightly abnormal amount of time without saying anything, because Quinn arches an eyebrow, a question in his eyes. God , he has pretty eyes. They’re blue-green, entire oceans, and Nando could lose himself in them, and how did he ever get so lucky ?

“ Wow ,” he says finally, and adds, “You look—”

“I know, I know,” Quinn replies, waving a hand in the air. “It’s… a feat, but it’s just part of the process. It was a full dress today, so—”

“Wait, no,” Nando amends, shaking his head. “I meant— that wasn’t a bad ‘wow’. I— you look—” Nando is too gay to function, apparently. “ Pretty , baby. You look pretty.”

A smile quirks on Quinn’s lips, and Nando really wants to kiss him all of a sudden. “Oh?” he replies. “I didn’t realize you’d enjoy this look.”

“Yeah, neither did I,” Nando laughs, cupping his face in his hands. “C’mere.” He kisses him gently, and Quinn laughs a little against his mouth.

“Hi,” Quinn mumbles.

“Hi.” He runs a thumb over his cheekbone. He’s definitely wearing blush, actually. “I missed you today. How’d it go?”

Quinn lets off a long breath, closing his eyes; he’s still smiling a little. “It went very well,” he starts, “but it was a long day.”

Nando pulls back a little, takes him by the hand, and starts to lead him to the bench. “I brought you dinner,” he says, gesturing to the bag and the tea. “And something for your throat.”

Quinn makes a gentle noise of either exhaustion or gratitude, and he squeezes his hand. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

Nando kisses his cheek. “I wanted to,” he replies, then hands him the tea. “I can carry the food. Where are we going? You need to make any stops?”

“No,” Quinn says, leaning against him as he lifts the cup to his lips. “Next stop, my room.”

“ Nice .” This is exactly what he was hoping he’d say. Nando watches him take the drink, then exhale deeply, like it’s essential oils or something. He tries not to let his eagerness show on his face.

“This is perfect,” Quinn says, of the tea. “I’m serious, Sebastián; thank you.”

“Of course, baby.” Nando is still sort of lost in the sight of his made-up face. It’s not so different from regular Quinn— maybe it’s just the whole theatre thing, the knowledge that this is how he’ll look next weekend, the pride in what his boyfriend is doing. But also, his eyeliner. Who knew he could rock eyeliner?

“You’re staring,” Quinn laughs.

“You’re cute!” Nando whines, and wraps an arm around him to kiss him again. Quinn squeezes at his forearm, and Nando keeps it sweet but also not obnoxious for a public place. They have this down to a science.

“C’mon,” Quinn says, once he releases him, and holds out his free hand. Nando takes it and follows him; he leads him towards the door that will lead them toward the dorm. “Before whatever’s in that bag gets cold.”

Nando falls into step next to him. “Seriously, how did it go?” he asks. “Tell me about your day.”

Quinn squeezes at his hand again, and when he looks up to meet his eyes, there’s something of a twinkle in his gaze. Nando just about swoons on his feet. “Come back to my room,” he replies, “and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Nando is more than happy to comply.

He’s kind of pretty sure that he’d follow this boy anywhere.

#crickets #nandoooooooo #quindo #rhode island headass #briefly #mini quinny #kiersey college #mel writes

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xxisxxisxxis · 4 years

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Fifty

Table of Content or Part Forty-Nine

Wattpad

Word count: 4.9K

Warning(s): Explicit language, Violence, drug abuse

A/N: so this is annoying, I know, but as I was writing this chapter, I may or may not have made a plot hole that I went back in the story and filled in so it wouldn't contradict with this chapter, I think most of you will know what it is, I'd tell you now but I don't wanna spoil the chapter. Anyway, sorry if that bugs you guys but I was writing and it just flowed out but I did go back so the chapter it was first brought up in matches what happens in this one so it's not confusing for future readers.

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"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear Nikki, happy birthday to you!" We sing as Nikki's about to blow the candles out of his cake.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Steven interjects, holding a joint above one of the lit candles, lighting the end of it on fire. "Okay."

He takes a drag of his blunt as Nikki blows his candles out, Tommy patting his shoulders.

"A whole twenty-eight years and you're still kickin', man." Tommy tells him and he grins.

"Who'da thought." Nikki adds, laughing, taking a sip of his homemade margarita.

"Okay, who wants cake?" I ask them, getting up from Tansy's dining room table to go get a knife from the kitchen.

I come back in to see Nikki and Tommy cutting at random parts of the cake with their switch blades.

"Guys, c'mon." Sharise scolds them, lightly hitting their arms before plucking the cake and icing covered blades from their hands.

"Boo, mom." Nikki sarcastically lets out with Tommy and Steven both echoing in "boo!"

"Hey, you're the good child." Sharise snaps her fingers at Stevie. "Don't let Chip and Dale contaminate you." She states to him, motioning to Nikki and Tommy, brushing past me to go to the kitchen to clean their switch blades off.

I give pieces of cake out, which isn't that much work since there's only seven of us in total: Nikki, me, Vince, Sharise, Tommy, Steven and Tansy, and once we're done eating, Tansy's insisting on presents.

"Alright, time for presents in the living room." She claps her hands together and we all head there, Nikki falling back on a couch and pulling me onto his lap.

"I'm gonna let you open 'em, babe." He tells me, patting at my hips where I shift to rest on one of his spread knees.

"Nikki, opening them is the best part." I argue.

"Which is exactly why I'm letting you do it." He replies, smiling tightly, but I know it's really because he doesn't feel like doing it.

I just roll my eyes playfully and Tansy organizes the presents around us.

"Okay, great and mighty one, which present would you like to be opened first?" I ask him and he leans over a little to see past me to examine the various shapes and sizes of his gifts.

"I want...that one." He points in the direction of a small, rectangle shaped box wrapped in news paper and Tansy hands it to me.

"This one's from me and Stevie." She adds.

"Thanks." I tell them, taking it from her and I dig into the paper and unravel it, seeing a black guitar pick, with a tiny name etched into it with white ink, I have to squint to make it out, but when I see who it's from, I know Nikki will love it.

I hand it to him, and he struggles to get his eyes to focus before looking at Tansy.

"Marc Bolan?" He asks her, impressed. "I didn't even think you knew who Marc Bolan was." He says to Tansy.

"I didn't until he died and Vince went into a depression over it for a few months." She explains. "But Stevie and I were thinking of what to get you, and then Doc helped me get in contact with his wife earlier this year and she still has his things and sent us that for you." She explains.

"Aww, that's cool." Sharise pipes.

"Guys, you didn't have to do that." I state.

"Aw, man, thanks, guys, I really like it." Nikki tells the two blondes, keeping himself from tearing up as he plays it off by clearing his throat, handing the pick to Tommy and Vince so they can look at it.

"You're welcome, dude." Steven replies.

"Alright, next is from..." Tansy looks at the name tag attached to a box wrapped in black paper. "...Tommy and Heather."

"It's kinda for you and Vivian." Tommy tells us. "We were gonna wait for Christmas but I figured it'd be better for your birthday."

"Is it raunchy?" I ask him to make sure.

"No." He assures me, smiling excitedly as I start unwrapping it.

I get it unwrapped and open the box to see a thickly packed book, and open it up to see an old picture of Nikki and I, visibly scowling at each other, looking like we're in the middle of an argument. He's in one of their old stage outfits they played the clubs in, in their early days and his black hair is completely covering his eyes, while I'm not wearing a trace of makeup, my hair pulled into a ponytail and my middle finger in his face.

Under the picture reads "The Whisky, '81."

I start flipping through it, seeing more candids and pictures of the two of us, featuring the guys, Tansy, their girlfriends at the time, groupies, Ozzy and his band, us with Sharon, the guys of Ratt, fans, us standing in front of important landmarks in other countries and different states we've visited in the U.S., our wedding photos, our reception pictures, "Shout at the Devil" era, "Theater of Pain" era...practically an entire montage of some of our biggest highlights and smaller, more intimate moments in between, featuring all of our friends and people we look up to and admire, all up to this year because there's even pictures of us hanging out with them recently.

Every picture is marked with a place, month and year and I sniffle back tears.

"You were so cute." Nikki comments as I pass the album to him and he's looking at one of the first pages at a picture of me and Tansy from one of their earlier shows. "You look like a baby." He adds, chuckling, patting at my thigh and I look at Tommy, more tears spilling over my lashes.

"Viv." He starts, smiling goofily at me.

"Aww, don't cry or I'll cry." Steven states.

"I'm sorry." I laugh a little, Sharise handing me a tissue from the box on Tansy's side table beside the couch before I'm getting up to see Tommy.

He's sitting on the edge of a comfy chair, and welcomes me with open arms when I sit across his long, skinny legs, and hug him as tightly as I possibly can.

Tansy leans over to look at the pictures with Nikki and she smiles.

"This was the night you lost your virginity, Viv!" Tansy pipes, holding the album up to show me a picture of me with my hand on ice--because Nikki slammed my fingers in my car door on accident--looking like I want to strangle Nikki and Vince as they try to wrap my hand up like a bandage, using a sock, which didn't work out anyway.

"You lost your virginity with one hand?" Steven asks me and Nikki and I exchange looks.

"It was her first time so it's not like she was doing much work, anyway." Tansy states.

"Okay, we can change the subject." I reply, awkwardly.

"She was doing plenty without needing her hands." Nikki insinuates reminiscently. "That's when I learned her little prude act is a cover up."

"Babe." I complain as Tommy squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to imagine me and Nikki having sex.

"Fine." Nikki chuckles, nudging at Tansy to get him another present.

Once he's done unwrapping the rest of them, Sharise and I are picking up the wrapping paper and throwing it in the garbage can, and cleaning the place up while the guys talk in the living room.

By the time we're finished, we're heading back to the living room and I'm sitting down next to Nikki, laying my head on his thigh because I'm sleepy.

His fingers brush against the red strands of my hair soothingly, and I maintain on the brink of sleep, but still able to hear everyone's conversation and sudden bouts of loud laughter.

I'm nudged awake as Vince, Tommy and Steven talk about taking Nikki out to a few bars here in Malibu for his birthday.

Nikki stands up and I just put my head back down on the couch when he gets up before he's chuckling to himself.

"Let me get her to bed and I'll be out there." He tells them. "Viv, baby, c'mon, let's go to bed." He says to me and I stretch, humming softly as I wake up, sort of.

When he sees I'm not getting up, he leans down, and picks me up bridal style as Tansy points him in the direction of guest bedrooms.

My back hits the soft mattress and I feel him pulling at my jeans to get them off and I find the motivation to try to fumble to get my constricting bra off.

He sees me struggle to unbuckle it in my hazy state and scoffs a little, helping me get it undone before I'm throwing it in the floor.

He's pulling the covers back so I can curl up underneath them.

"I'll be back later, k?" He asks and I nod with my eyes still closed, getting comfortable on the bed.

"I'm sorry I'm so tired, I'll give you the best blow job ever later on." I promise him, knowing he probably expected a fun night for the both of us for his birthday. "And can you ask Sharise or Tansy if they can sleep in here with me until you get back?"

"Okay, Viv." I hear his smile in his words before his lips are pressing to my forehead for a second. "Goodnight, baby."

"G'night." I mumble.

He steps to the door and switches the light off before stepping out.

He hadn't been that affectionate since we got married.

I blamed it on the fact it on the fact that he'd "sobered" up to focus on the album and kicked heroin.

He'd gotten back on freebase, yeah, but cocaine, in any form, never made him mean or vindictive.

He would hallucinate and get scared, but he wasn't consciously mean for no reason.

Heroin, however, turned him into the devil, and by that point in his addiction he functioned better on heroin, than not, because without it in his system he just couldn't think of anything else other than getting a fix and if you weren't apart of his aid for a fix, you weren't worth his time and he let you know.

So I thought he had kicked his heroin habit for the most part because he was being nicer than usual to me but oh, no.

He felt guilty for cheating on me so he compensated by not being an asshole to me as much--yet.

It makes sense to me, now. I'd feel like shit, too, if I were telling my mistress I was going to leave my wife for her because my wife was "suffocating" and "draining the life" out of me.

Which translates to, "I'm leaving my wife because she doesn't like or contribute to my addiction."

Christmas came and Jason was Nikki's Santa Claus.

Then came New Years...which winded up being near death experience number one of two involving my safety at the hands of Sikki.

Sharise, Skylar and I pull into the driveway in Sharise's car, and she's putting it in park as I grab my few shopping bags.

"Thank you for getting me out of the house." I tell her, unbuckling.

"No problem." She replies.

"Bye-bye, Sky." I say, waving to the baby tucked safely in her carseat with her fist in her mouth, leaning closer to her to press a kiss to the bottom of her foot, causing her to smile and kick a little. "Bye, Sharise." I add, giving her a hug as best as I can.

"Bye, Viv."

"Call me when you get home to me know you got back safe."

"I will. Love you." She calls before I close the door.

"Love you, too." I shut the door with my bags in hand and step to the front door, fiddling with my keys.

Just as I step inside, I furrow my brows at the sound of Rabid dog fight, until I realize it's Nikki screaming.

"You're not making any fucking sense so just shut the fuck up!" He yells and I start cautiously walking to our bedroom, putting my ear to the door, hearing a woman crying. "Stop whining and just go fuck yourself! Fuck you! Fuck Jesus and get the fuck outta my house!" He barks louder and the door is flying open and I'm met with a distraught, jittery Vanity, who's eyes are wide as can be, and the smell of burnt cocaine nearly knocks me to the floor.

She stumbles past me and out the front door, barefoot, and I'm dropping my things to go check on her.

"Hey, do you need me to call you a cab or your driver?" I ask her as she continues to walk to our gate at the end of the driveway.

"N-No, I got it." She assures me, shakily, and I feel like I'm looking at a beaten puppy.

"Vanity, I can call someone to take you back home. It's a long way from here." I try to persuade her but she keeps shaking her head.

"I'm fi...fine, Viv, I promise." She insists.

"Do you at least want your shoes?" I ask, my thumb pointing in the direction of our house.

"No, I'm fine." She wipes her tear stained cheeks frantically. "I'll get them later."

She turns to keep walking but I look down at her feet that are only covered by her thin black stockings, then down at my shoes.

"Vanity, here." I pull my sneakers off and she watches me, her eyes struggling to keep focus as I crouch down and put them on her feet, tying them in a double knot so they won't come untied and trip her up. "You can just give them back whenever you can." I add and she gives me a nod.

I step back into the house, and don't even bother Nikki.

I don't feel like putting up with his nasty attitude.

A few hours later, I hear the bedroom door open, and he's slowly coming into the living room, turning on the T.V. and flipping it to MTV.

"Vanity was here." I say to him, turning a page in my book, as more of a statement than a question and he just stares at the television. "I don't like when she's here while I'm not around. I always come home to you two coked out and fighting. It scares me." I tell him.

"I dont know why." He mumbles and I roll my jaw.

"Because when you freebase you always end up waving a gun around." I state. "I'd hate to be the woman married to the murderer of Vanity."

"If you knew the whole story you wouldn't care if she died or not." He scoffs to himself and I furrow my brows.

"Well, then, what's the whole story?" I ask, putting the book down and he sighs out, shaking his head a little.

"She just picks fights. She likes to pick fights with me." He says and I rub my lips together.

"Well, damn, Nikki, I do that. That doesn't mean you scream at her like you do to me." I take up for her and he rolls his eyes.

"Vivian, I'm not arguing with you so just shut up." He tells me, tiredly.

"Are you back on junk?" I ask next and he let's out a heavy breath.

"Vivian." He snaps, glaring at me. "Drop it."

"I take that as a 'yes'." I mumble.

"Why the hell do you not stop when I ask you to?" He asks me sharply.

"I'll stop picking at you when you want me to, when you stop the drugs when I ask you to."

"And this is why I liked you better a few years ago because you kept your fucking mouth shut unless I wanted it open." He stands up, walking away.

"Yes, because me keeping my mouth shut out of fear of my significant other was so much better than feeling comfortable enough to voice my concerns for you." I trail behind him as he steps to the kitchen and grabs a beer from the fridge. "Nikki," I breathe out and he ignores me, causing me to cringe as he cracks open the beer bottle lid with his teeth, and before he can spit it in the floor, I'm plucking it from between his teeth. "I'm not trying to be a bitch or piss on your parade." I tell him, softly, throwing the lid away as he takes a swig of the beer, leaning against the counter. "I'm worried about you. Our friends are worried about you. Doc is worried about you."

"Doc's only worried about me because the office is on his back because I'm apart of the label's money train and if they lose me, they lose Mötley Crüe, and all the money we bring in." He states.

I feel bad, because it's true.

"I'm fine, Viv." He lies as he puts on a fake smirk that tries to tell me he has it under control, but it's really telling me he needs help...even if he doesn't realize he does.

He puts his beer on the counter beside him before pulling at my hand, tugging me to him, wrapping his arms around me and I hold him with my arms around his waist, looking up at him, trying not to gag because he smells like straight cocaine and sweat.

"I wanna write a song about you for the album." He tells me, his hand running through my hair.

"Are you being serious or deflecting from the fact I'm not very happy with you right now?" I ask, raising a brow.

"If I wanted to deflect anything I'd just bend you over and go to town." He shrugs and I cut my eyes at him.

He licks his lips before leaning down, but I put my hand over his mouth, stopping him from kissing me.

"After you get a shower and brush your teeth."

I'd hoped his spat with Vanity was the last for the day.

I shouldn't have thought that highly of him to only have one freebase session.

The house is pitch dark, not even the lamp in the living room is on.

Nikki must've cut it off when he went back to our bedroom.

I ended up falling asleep as he was taking a shower, and he didn't bother to wake me up when he was done.

I wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, padding over the fluffy carpet of our living room after I get off the couch and stretch.

My hands carefully feel around to make sure I don't run into anything while my feet make slow, deliberate steps.

I get to the door of our room, that isn't locked, surprisingly, and I turn the door knob.

It lets out an eerie, growling "creak" as it opens and I smell bitter drugs and hear heavy, loud breathing coming from the closet, gasps escaping between each breath as Nikki scrambles around.

I can't see anything but the very faint glow of a small tea candle in the closet that he's using to see what he does, but I know he's in there.

I take one step into our room, and a wail of the deepest fear cracks through the air before a booming gun shot chases after it.

I'm hitting the floor as fast as I can, screaming as my ears ache from the noise as he just starts shooting repeatedly, and the house shakes, my only chance of protection is getting under the bed and I rush to get there, covering my ears as my spine paralyzes with fear and more shots fire out. I hear things in our house breaking and shattering from buckshot that flies through the open doorway as Nikki is shouting "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!" with raw tears in his voice.

I keep a hand over my mouth to keep from crying too loud or else he'll open fire in this direction and keep his aim low.

I don't know if I'm hit or not, I'm scared to move around a little just to see, because he'll hear me shifting around on the carpet.

He thinks something is attacking him, he isn't thinking about it being me.

I wait for several minutes, trying not to breathe loud.

Thinking he's settled down, I shift from under the bed as quietly as I possibly can.

My ankle pops with my movement, and I immediately know I've fucked up the second he starts up again, and I feel the pressure of a smatter of shrapnel grip to my thigh and I fall on the ground, my instincts kicking in to get the hell away.

This time I crawl out of our room until I'm tucked behind the wall that leads to the living room then I'm standing and tripping over things in the floor to get to the phone in the living room, praying to God that Nikki doesn't get ballsy and get out of the closet to try to chase whatever he's hallucinating that I am, out of the house with more shots.

I'm turning on the lamp and dialing my emergency number before turning the lamp off and dragging myself to the christmas tree in the corner, holding the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" Fred croaks tiredly.

"Fred..." I whisper.

"Viv? Why the fuck are you whispering?"

"N-Nikki's got a gun." I say as calmly as I can, another "BOOM" zipping through the house and I put my hand over my mouth to keep myself from screaming.

"Vivian, what the hell is going on?!" I can tell the sound of a gun has woken him up as panic fills his voice.

"He's got a gun, he's hallucinating, I got hit with some buckshot but I don't know how much." I very quietly say. "Don't call the cops. He'll get in trouble." I add, taking deep breaths as the pain starts to set in.

"Viv, I'm coming, alright? I'm coming, get somewhere and get still. I'm coming." He promises.

"Please, hurry, Fred, I'm scared." I plead under my breath, tears rolling down my cheeks.

"I'm coming, I promise. I'm hurrying. I promise." He hangs up and a wave of quiet sobs rocks through my body, my eyes squeezing closed as I beg God to let Nikki come down.

I just got a sprinkling of metal pellets from the shell that the majority missed me, and it was in the side of my thigh, but I felt like satan had dug his nails into my leg, down to the bone.

By the time Fred's unlocking our door, and switching on the light, a angry look on his face as he has his pistol out, he heads to our bedroom before coming to me.

"He's out cold." He tells me, turning on the other light over the living room. "Holy fuck, Viv." He says and I look down at my thigh, fear gripping at my heart and I start crying.

My skin is torn to shreds, deep, black tails of metal are deep in my flesh and I'm bleeding everywhere.

"Alright, we gotta get you to the hospital." He tells me, scooping me up and my heart pounds.

"Is Nikki gonna be in trouble?" I ask him frantically, starting to get more and more worked up.

"We don't have to tell them how this happened, Vivian. You probably need fucking surgery to get that shit out of you or you're fucked. You don't have a choice." He states, carrying me out to his car.

Turns out buckshot is more brutal than I expected. I was rushed into surgery while Fred contacted Doc, and he got ahold of the guys before going to see notify Nikki he had shot his fucking wife.

Once I was finally out of surgery, they were pumping me full of morphine to ease the pain of my shredded thigh because they had to cut into more of me to dig around to get all the metal out.

"I want a divorce." I mumble to the sound of Doc and Fred talking quietly amongst themselves, as I come to, but keep my eyes shut.

"How're you feeling?" Doc asks me and I force my eyes open, squinting through my sleep.

"My husband just tried to fucking kill me. I'm not okay." I grumble, trying to sit up in the bed, expecting to feel the pain I felt before surgery from my thigh, but I don't feel anything.

I barely feel my emotions. "Am I drugged?" I ask them tiredly, glancing up at the IV drip they have me on.

Fred and Doc don't say anything, just observing my experience with the first strong drug I've been in contact with.

I lean back, actually relieved that I truly don't give a shit about anything right now.

"I get it, now." I scoff, closing my eyes.

"Vivian--"

"Did I hear Duff, earlier?" I cut Doc short. "Or was I dreaming?"

I recall hearing Duff slurring "where's he fucking at? I'll fucking kill the motherfucker? Where's he fucking at?" but can't decide if I was dreaming or if he was actually here at some point.

"He's in the waiting room with Steven and Slash." Doc informs me. "We had to get him calmed down before he got himself kicked out."

"He wants to kick Sixx's ass." Fred informs me and I smile a little to myself.

"I wanna kick Sixx's ass, too." I agree. "Go get them. I feel like I'm about to fall asleep again and I wanna see them before I go."

"Alright." Fred stands up and steps out of the room.

"The bullshit has got to stop, Doc." I tell him, hoarsely. "The heroin. The coke. The alcohol. All of it. I'm getting tired of fighting." I admit and he let's out a breath.

"I know, Viv."

"I'm so tired."

"When we get you out of here, I'll talk to him."

"Does he know where I'm at?"

"I tried to wake him up and tell him but he was too doped on smack." He explains.

"He told me he wasn't on smack anymore." I say, finding it weird that I know I feel sad, but unable to feel the weight behind the emotion.

Before he can reply, the knocking on the door signals Duff's arrival as he slowly opens it.

"Hey!" I greet him as cheerfully as I can, my eyes barely able to keep open.

"Hey, Viv." He tries to play off his feelings but I can tell he's been worried. "Uh, Slash and Steven had to head home but they're coming later on." He adds. "No, it's okay, you're here. That's all I cared about." My cold hand reaches out for his hand and he's taking it.

"I'll leave you two alone for a little." Doc tells us. "I'll see if I can reach Tommy and Vince, now."

He leaves us alone and Duff's rubbing his lips together.

"You've been drinking." I say with lack of filter.

"Yeah, I was out partying." He tries to play it off with a smile.

"I was, too." I reply, grinning lazily and he let's out a soft breath. "Oh, come on, if I can't joke about getting shot, I'll cry and I'm tired of crying so just humor me."

"I think I've been humoring you the past year, Vivian. Every time you've sworn he was gonna change." He says a little more seriously.

"He didn't mean to do this, Duff. He didn't. He gets high, and he gets scared, and he thinks something's after him."

"Fred told me if you would have been hit with the brunt of the shot, your leg would have been useless, Viv."

"But I didn't." I argue softly, a tear trailing down my cheek. "God keeps me safe."

"I don't think God wants you staying in a relationship with someone who fucking puts the life he gave you, in danger." He states.

"Do you even believe in God?" I completely belittle what he just said. "Because if not, it's in your best interest not to speak on His behalf." I finish.

"How the fuck are you so argumentative when you're on morphine?" He asks, managing to bury the argument that was brewing.

"I don't fucking know I'm just tired." I let out.

"I can go, I just needed to see you were--"

"--Can you sleep with me?" I ask him out of nowhere.

"I don't want to piss anybody off." He tells me, but I know he really means, "I don't want to risk Nikki finding out and getting the wrong idea."

"My ass is hanging out of this gown, thigh looks like a fucking piranha got a hold of it, and I've had to use the bathroom in front of a nurse so she can monitor the consistency of my shit. I feel violated in every sense. I don't give a fuck what people think of my best friend sleeping in the bed with me for comfort's sake."

"Scoot over." He says, and I gently move the best I can to make room for him.

He gets in next to me, lifting his arm to rest above his head so I can lay beside him comfortably, and before long, his soft snoring brings a peaceful blanket of serenity and wraps it around me as I give into the drugs in my system pulling me into a sleep so I can help myself heal.

#nikki sixx #mötley crüe #nikki sixx x oc #nikki sixx fanfiction #gateway drug

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