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deke-rivers-1957 · 6 months

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Clambake Review

This is often considered to be the worst Elvis film ever made. Even Elvis himself allegedly hated making the film. However, it's most likely because of the fact that Elvis suffered from that infamous concussion just before filming started. A lot of fans who watched this film say that you can see Elvis is ailing. Does his acting suffer because of it or just fan projection? Let's find out.

We immediately start off with the titular song "Clambake". For a movie that takes place in Miami, you wouldn't associate the city with clambake. Or oil rigs. But we don't live in this movie's reality because both of those things exist in Miami apparently. While it is true that Native Americans in Florida developed a technique referred to as a "clambake", a traditional clambake is predominantly held on the Northern East coast. They could've just as easily reused New Orleans if they wanted to include both of those elements.

This is easily one of the worst outfits Elvis ever worn. Scott would never wear this. Based on his character he'd want to be as far away from it as possible. It makes more sense for Tom Wilson to buy this when they switch identities. I know he has to wear something at the beginning to show that he's rich, but I would've used a different outfit.

Charlie Hodge cameos at the barber and gets a line. Imagine my surprise to see that we have an actual character arc that's setup. We understand who Scott is and why he's here in Miami. He's the son of an oil tycoon and wants to make a name for himself. He had a fiancee but he left her when it was clear she only cared for his money. We now have a clear reason to support his identity swap.

I don't hate this Prince and the Pauper type of plot, I just don't like how it's executed. Heyward Oil is everywhere somehow and yet no one recognizes Scott just by the face alone? Sure he's not the head of the company but they recognize his name so they had to have seen him at least once. Maybe I'm missing something, but I think this would've been better if Tom Wilson was played by an actor that looked more like Elvis. Impossible I know, but if Elvis had body doubles in movies, I think it could've been done.

"Who Needs Money" is a terrible duet. Elvis' vocals of course are fine but Tom Wilson's dubbed in vocals just doesn't work. The film doesn't grind to a halt because of this duet, but it's still not a rememberable song. I get that we needed a duet to show that Scott and Tom are both doing this for their own personal gain, but Tom Wilson needed different vocals for this song to be just average. It's also made abundantly clear that Elvis isn't in Miami to film this with the overuse of rear screen projections.

When we get to the hotel, the scene where Jamison is talking with the women is so bizarre. Some of the women's dialogue sounded either effected (meaning they purposely put on a type of voice that suggests bad acting or bad direction) or were dubbed in. It just didn't sound like they were recorded the same way Jamison's voice was recorded. The water-skiing scene also has so much dead air that we're watching Elvis' and Shelly's doubles ski at a far angle shot with no audio outside of the boat's motor. It lasted too long and could've been redone as it just wasn't engaging.

Given that Elvis wasn't actually in Florida, at least this scene has a real background. The lighting naturally matches the time of day it's supposed to be in and they all look like they belong there. I really like Elvis' outfit though as you can at least justify long sleeve shirts with "it's night time so it's going to be cooler".

"A House That Has Everything" is fine. It allows for Scott to seemingly bond with Dianne over being poor. As much as I love Scott's part of this relationship, I just don't understand why he's in love with Dianne. She basically admits to being a gold digger, which Scott wanted to get away from. I understand the point of the movie is that she falls in love with Scott for who he is, but Scott being interested after she admits to being the one thing he wanted to avoid just doesn't make sense to me.

I do appreciate that the movie wants us to dislike Jamison by making him act like a pig for ignoring Dianne's pleas to go away. I also appreciate that this movie didn't go down the path of most Elvis films and have Scott try to fight him ultimately getting him in trouble. Instead we get shown that Scott disapproves of Jamison's actions, but also acknowledges that Dianne's a grown woman who can take care of herself.

For once we have a mid 60s Elvis film that has him have the emotional maturity to know when to pick his battles. I also admit that as much as I don't like his romantic interests in Dianne, I really enjoy seeing him wanting to respect her choices and help her. He's willing to just be a companion and doesn't let any negative feelings for Jamison interfere. A cliched love triangle would've had Scott try to sabotage Jamison to make him look bad in front of Dianne, or Scott try to convince Dianne that Jamison is no good only for her to ignore him. He doesn't do any of that and instead just let's the chips fall where they lie.

This song was easily the worst scene in the entire film. "Confidence" is embarrassingly over 5 minutes long. The editing is just bizarre with a shot that is completely upside down and a clip of the US Calvary. It's so long that there was a stretch of time that Scott isn't even singing. We're just following him and Tom Wilson play with children. Even Red West, cameoing as the ice cream gets involved in playing with the kids for literally no reason. I kid you not, it was so bad that my besties who saw the film with me all had a mini breakdown at how awful and long it was.

I can see why fans say you can see Elvis is struggling in this film. Watching this scene is like watching a man mentally regress to a child's age right before your eyes. What makes it worse is that this scene has absolutely no impact on the plot. Him singing with the kids doesn't make Dianne see Scott in a new light the way, nor do any of the kids help Scott with his boat in anyway. Outside of a throwaway line about having confidence, nothing from this scene was ever mentioned again. This scene's only purpose is to provide filler to pad out the run time.

A ride up of over 2 inches or so should never happen with clothes. That's a sign of how cheap this film was. They couldn't even bother to give Elvis a turtleneck sweater that properly fits. This whole scene is just cringy mid 60s beach party aesthetics. "Clambake" as a song is bad in that I literally couldn't understand a single word of the beginning.

The dancing in this scene isn't good and the colors in the scene hurt my eyes. The only reason why I say this song is better than "Confidence" is that there's an actual reason for this song to exist. Despite being geographically inaccurate, a clambake event was mentioned earlier in the film. Scott would want to be there because he knows Dianne would be there and just in general wanted to have fun.

I like this montage of Scott developing the goop. The whole concept of Scott wanting to make his own product is brilliant. He wants to prove that his idea can work even if his dad didn't. It adds another dimension to his character without having to include his dad. He's a genuinely intelligent man who isn't depicted as a pathetic dork or an absolute kill joy.

This gives us a rare showing of Elvis playing a character that doesn't just rizz up girls, or fights people. He also isn't a bumbling, misfortunate character that is passive to the events around him. Here, Scott's actively choosing to do this. He's making the best use of his privilege and education to not only help out a struggling boat owner, but also create a product that shows that he's more than just his dad's money.

This dynamic only makes me think that Scott is too good for Dianne. He isn't just being a decent human being and therefore deserves to be with her by default. He's actively helping a woman he barely knows get with another man by giving her advice. The fact that she's still interested in Jamison after he refused to respect her boundaries indicates that she literally only cares about his money. I know that's the point of her character arc, but watching this only makes me think that Scott deserved better.

"You Don't Know Me" only solidifies that opinion. The entire song is literally Scott lamenting that Dianne doesn't know who he is. While part of it is on him for purposely hiding his true identity, Dianne basically uses him as a tool to get Jamison to notice her. She doesn't really take the time to get to know Scott on even a friendly basis. That one night on the beach just isn't enough to say that she knows enough about Scott to even be his friend. You really feel bad for Scott because he's in a one-sided relationship with someone who doesn't seem interested in him outside of what he could do for her.

It's little moments like this that make me appreciate Scott as a character. He's so dedicated to making this product work that he works through the night and falls asleep at his work station. He isn't even doing it to impress Dianne either. He's had this idea before he even met her. He genuinely wants to help Mr. Burton and prove that his product can work.

"Hey, Hey, Hey" is a terrible song. It's similar to "Clambake" in that it has bad dancing and similar to "Confidence" in that it just comes completely out of nowhere. It also just doesn't work with Scott's character. He's only shown interest in Dianne so even though he's not committed to her, it doesn't make sense for him to give every woman a kiss. I get that it's meant to be a montage of Scott getting help to finish the boat, but the song just feels unnecessary. Each woman's reaction to his kiss is obviously dubbed in as the actress' reaction doesn't match the noise she makes. You could just as easily convey that in a way that's similar to when Scott recreated his goop.

I was absolutely shocked at how good this dynamic was. Mr. Heyward had a big beef with Scott for leaving the way he did. He was so upset that Scott took stuff from his company without asking him, that he had to be confronted. At first you think this is the cliche dad that just doesn't get his son wanting to be his own man or even bothered to know what Scott liked. Scott's relationship with Mr. Burton made me think that this was the case. However, Mr. Heyward ultimately isn't that cliche.

Mr. Heyward knows his son more than anyone else. When he found out that Tom Wilson was acting like a party animal who smoke and drank, he immediately knew that this wasn't Scott. For a time period where it was more common for a man to smoke and or drink, Mr. Heyward outright being confused to hear that "Scott" did this shows he knows his son. He really does care about Scott, but is just upset at the way Scott chose to handle his feelings. When given the chance to confront him about it, Mr. Heyward said his part and let Scott have his say too. Even though he still didn't fully believe in Scott's product, he still wanted to let Scott try. Ultimately a very well written tension that didn't give you the idea that these two outright hated each other.

This part of the movie has the most amount of tension. There's a proper build up of the audience and Scott realizing that Jamison wasn't a good person worth Dianne's affection. Watching Jamison put the moves on her when she said no, is the nail in the coffin for the audience. For Scott, since he didn't see the same things we do, he wouldn't get upset at Jamison for that reason. He knew Jamison wasn't the best person when he forced Dianne to go out with him in exchange for her missing bra. He didn't interfere because he knew that he would've gotten in trouble because Jamison was rich and he was working as an employee.

Here he had the emotional maturity to not put up a stink when Dianne was with Jamison. He didn't even fight him after she left the room. It wasn't until Jamison essentially threatened him first, that Scott had enough and punched him. As soon as Jamison went down, he left. He had the emotional maturity to know that he put Jamison in his place. Nothing else needed to be done as there was no reason to keep punching him. Punching an unconscious man is no longer self defense and is just meaningless violence. Scott understanding that in spite of his own feelings is a refreshing thing to see in a character.

"The Girl I Never Loved" is the best song in the movie. Scott's lament that he'll never be able to tell Dianne how he feels is so sad. He's so adamant about not wanting to interfere in her relationship with Jamison, that he's willing to make himself suffer. He accepts that she doesn't have feelings for him, but he also still lets himself feel hurt about it. That being said, Dianne giving up her scheme and wanting to just go home feels a little forced. Like she doesn't even want to stay because Scott was a good friend. She just wants to go because Jamison ended up not working out.

I just feel bad that Scott went through all this work only for Dianne to not seem that enthused. Mr. Heyward only wants the best for his son so if the goop works, he couldn't be any happier and supportive. Tom Wilson and his girlfriend are genuinely excited to be at the race watching him. They really want Scott to win because they know he worked so hard on the boat. Dianne just doesn't look all that emotional for him and I wonder what would've happened if Scott ended up losing. Mr. Heyward and Tom Wilson I feel would've still supported Scott. They know how hard he worked on it even if it didn't pan out as he thought. I just can't say the same for Dianne. I'm not sure if it was an acting issue or a writing issue, but I just don't feel the same passion she has for Scott that he does for her.

This hurts me. When I think about the low production value of this movie, I think of this. First off no license would ever have a picture like that. If it has a picture it was to be front on not at this weird angle. Also his name's spelled wrong! If you look at the signs for his father's company it's spelled Heyward. The worst mistake though is that Elvis has blue eyes! Why do you mark Scott as having brown eyes when he clearly doesn't have them? This whole scene summarizes the lack of effort put into making this look like Miami. Florida doesn't have any mountains and if anything, Miami is actually prone to flooding and sinkholes because of the low altitude.

Regardless, I actually like how this film ended. The whole point of Scott switching identities in theory was to find someone who loved him for his personality and not just his money. Was doing that right at a stop light the best time to do that? No but in general for a mid 60s Elvis film, we didn't get a stereotypical final number to close out the film. It could've been executed better but we actually get the plot point of Dianne not knowing who Scott is wrapped up. I still don't think Dianne and Scott will work out. They don't know anything about each other and Scott kisses her once after he asks her to marry him. I'm happy for Scott that he got what he wanted, but I honestly think he still deserved better regarding his love interest. It really shows just how much of a real person this character was that you would feel something like that.

This movie is so baffling. On one hand yeah, I totally agree with fans that say this is the worst one. The complete lack of attention to geographical detail and the most blatant case of run time padding make this absolutely frustrating to watch. On the other hand Scott surprisingly has one of the most complete character arcs I've seen where every choice he's made has made sense to his character. His ballads and emotional maturity were quite refreshing to see. He actually makes me care enough to say "you deserve to find someone who loves you. Dianne isn't good enough for you king".

That being said, I give this film a 5/10. There's just too many issues to say that this is a good film. However, I truly think if this script was redone and a different creative team made this movie, it might be one of Elvis' best ones. In fact, as long as you skip "Confidence" and are someone who can forgive production errors easily, I would actually recommend watching this Elvis fan or not. Scott's character arc has enough good elements to make it worth watching.

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AN: Thank you @georgefairbrother for requesting this film. Also shout out to @arrolyn1114 and @xanatenshi for watching this film with me. Your input was much appreciated. I currently don't have anything planned on what to review next. If anyone wants to request an Elvis film feel free to send it in.

Tagging: @lynettethemadscientist, @motht-eeth, @ash-omalley, @spooky-hazex, @oh-my-front-door, @father-of-2cats, @stormie-ryan23, @yksuwyksud, @tacozebra051, @alienelvisobsession, @vintageoldsoul, @ohmygiddd, @lovininapinkcadillac, @stephthestallion, @mistyspresley, @bisexualwvtson, @karel-in-wonderland, @moonchild-daniella, @musiclover712, @worldofyns, @sillybookmarks, @g00d2balive, @leighpc, @generoustreemystic, @peskybedtime, @thetaoofzoe, @renegadewarrior, @vintagepresley, @tupelomiss, @myradiaz, @pinkcaddyconfessions, @kiankiwi, @presley72elvis, @delulubutidontcare, @elvispresleywife, @ilivebecauseiamforced, @jaqueline19997, @richardslady121, @if-i-can-dream-of-elvis and @lookingforrainbows.

#elvis film review #elvis presley #elvis film #scott heyward #clambake #1967

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mieohmy · 2 years

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sticky situations | prologue.

PAIRING: spiderman! mark lee x sidekick! afab reader

GENRE: superhero! au, f2ls, romance, action, SLOW BURN, angst, fluff, humor

WORD COUNT: 8.2k

NOTES: profanity, depictions of violence, weapons, blood/injuries, all around obliviousness, not proofread im sorry i write at like the peak of dawn

SUMMARY: you never thought you’d be partners in crime with the red and blue spandex wearing hero who is not only your friend mark, but also the guy you secretly have a crush on.

author’s note: hihi! for the first time i decided to write a prologue for one of my upcoming wips (mainly bc it would be too long if i included all the backstory into the original fic lmao) anyways this serves as a sort of teaser so hopefully its alright :) - jae

all throughout highschool, you didn’t really classify your life to be ‘exciting’. you lived in one of the biggest and busiest cities in the country and yet no long lasting love interests, cutthroat drama between your friends, not even a social life to begin with. you supposed it was your choice, after all. you were the one who chose a simple and mundane life and now you had to stick with it.

the pace didn’t really pick up until you turned eighteen and obtained an internship at the newly reformed octavius industries. it was your choice to go into the stem-based field and you did not regret it one bit. the environment was always friendly and you felt normal- as normal as a human doing whatever they wanted to do could be. and surprisingly, it wasn’t hard to form a friend group among the other interns who had similar aspirations (and social anxiety) as you.

lee donghyuck was the first person you met at the labs. entering the company as interns together on the first day, you classified him as the annoyingly bright guy that needed to fucking chill sometimes- and he agreed when you told him that. next was chenle and jisung. they were the two peas in a pod and to be honest, they needed to chill more than donghyuck. nevertheless, they were a breath of fresh air in your stress-filled life.

last but certainly not least, was mark lee. you won’t lie, at first you struggled to connect with him. he was already close friends with donghyuck, chenle, and jisung from high school, so you were actually the newcomer. it wasn’t anything like he gave off ‘weird vibes’ to you, mark was just a lot quieter than the other guys and you didn’t know as much about him. when you asked jisung, that boy just shrugged and said he started acting like that about a year ago but the subject was touchy so they dropped it. apparently, it’s been fine ever since.

to you, mark was just the mysterious guy with a secret. oh for sure, that man was hiding things from the rest of you and you especially were determined to figure out whatever it was. all those cuts and scraps decorating his knuckles and face that came from his “hobby” when you questioned him, yeah no- you didn’t believe any of that bullshit.

and yet, your group just worked. you got closer with all of them- to the point where you actually considered them your friends. they were the people forced to suffer with your 10 cups of coffee everyday (a joke, mostly) and constant, “wait a second, i need to pee.”

it wasn’t for a couple of months into your internship that something shifted. for starters, you had the energy to greet everyone at the lab that certain day. after scanning your badge to enter your assigned lab, you grab a pair of gloves and slip them on.

“hey, y/n,” a voice greets out of nowhere and you almost jump. placing a hand on your now pounding chest, you turn to see mark.

“oh my gosh, mark,” you call out, “you fucking scared me.”

he giggles and you eventually find yourself letting out a small smile too. “my bad,” he apologizes, and you can’t help but note the dark circles under his eyes. he had them on occasion, but you thought yours were bad, and the more you looked the more it seemed like mark was staying up most if not all nights. even more than you- and that was saying a lot.

conversation comes easily, even when the rest of the guys hadn’t shown up yet. “those lazy butts can’t even set an alarm? pathetic,” you murmur while peering down into the microscope.

“i know. they’re always late when we plan group hangouts as well,” he remarks. “oh! and that reminds me, are we still on for that new movie?“

you hum. “that depends on if it’s good or not… and if the others are willing to suffer through another shitty movie. i don’t mind, though.”

you can’t see, but mark smiles unconsciously. “yeah, you’ll just fall asleep if it’s that bad. just like last time.”

you let out a snarky laugh, recalling when you went to watch a film called freaky handshake or something like that. man, you swear it was filmed by two guys who were bored and created the whole plot in less than an hour.

when the five of you went to watch it at the theater, you ended up passing out in the first ten minutes. it wasn’t your fault you were already feeling sleepy when the ads were playing before the start of the movie. mark was kind enough to place his jacket over you, you remember fondly.

focusing back on the specimens you were studying in front of you, you look up at mark. he’s busy dropping a clear liquid on the glass swatch. you politely ask said person to pass you the dropper when he’s finished and he nods. when he hands you it, your fingers touch for a split second and you jolt slightly at the almost electric feeling. first of all, where were mark’s gloves? and second of all, was it just you who felt that? glancing at him, he seems to be unbothered as he continues his work and you’re left to fumble over his lingering warmth.

that’s weird.

so one lovely afternoon, perhaps a week later, mark takes a seat next to you at one of the empty tables with a friendly smile and your stomach actually flutters. maybe it was just the food you ate earlier, you brush it off. but the fact that he chose to sit next to you instead of across from you, or at any other empty table makes your thoughts wander.

over the course of the next week, you can’t help it when linger your eyes on him- when he shrugs on his lab coat, when he loses his goggles and you have to remind him that they’re on his head, when he…

shit. why mark of all people?

what in the actual world, you thought yourself to be way closer with donghyuck than mark. you thought you were perfectly content just being friends. in fact, you weren’t even searching to be in a relationship- especially not one with a co-worker. your only goals were getting enough sleep to survive the next day and working hard at the lab (which so kindly paid you for your internship), so why did mark have to get in the way? you just prayed that the others didn’t notice your sudden weird behavior.

what are feelings and why do they suck? you didn’t want to do anything about it because, to be frank, you were a coward. if mark didn’t like you back- which is what you believed to be true because you didn’t get any of those vibes from him- then it would be so awkward if and when he rejected you. you didn’t want to mess up your good friendship as it was and for the rest of the group as well.

walking into the building one fall morning, you overhear people talking about the news last night. you frown at the recalling of events, it sucked to turn on the tv and see a failed bombing attempt at brooklyn bridge. apparently, a number of escaped convicts stole firearms and took it upon themselves to start chaos on the bridge. it took spiderman and the police to finally get the situation in control. but still, you shivered at the idea of the bridge possibly collapsing with all those civilians still there.

strolling into the employees lounge with a fresh cup of coffee, you tap donghyuck on the head. “what’s up, loser?”

he spins around and his eyes fall on the object in your hand. “let me guess, number four?” you softly smack him on the head as he lets out a sound in protest. “it’s my first, thank you very much.”

you pause, taking a sip as you glance around. “where’s jisung and chenle?”

“they went to the lab first,” he answers dutifully. “and mark?” you ask with a frown.

he sends you a look and you stick your tongue out in retaliation. donghyuck doesn’t say anything though, only answering your question with a shrug.

mark didn’t show up for the whole day. you found yourself wondering what happened to him, if it had anything to do with the almost accident last night. was he stuck on that bridge when it happened and needed to recover the day after? ugh, you hated how much you spent the day worrying about him.

as you leave work to get home that night, you send mark a quick text asking if he‘s alright. as you turn the corner, shutting your phone off because it was new york and you were alone by yourself at night, you keep an eye out. some of the stuff you were lucky enough not to be involved in but witnessed… you shivered.

all of a sudden, a body comes flying out of the store in front of you, completely shattering the glass with a horribly loud sound. you let out a silent scream, hand raising up to cover your mouth as you attempt to discover more about the situation.

spiderman comes flying out a few seconds after, shooting what you think are his webs at the guy and effectively trapping him.

you stare, as still as a statue as spiderman finishes his task successfully and swings off into the night, leaving who you guess attempted to rob the poor store webbed up for the cops to handle.

shaking, you take a few seconds to recover before taking another safer route home, one with more people and less glass windows.. what the actual fuck.

straight up, you didn’t really care for spiderman. sure, you admired his efforts to stop crime and help the city. but all his crypticness got on your nerves a bit and you kinda sorta wished spiderman would stop popping in and out before disappearing again as per usual. but who cared about your opinion, you were just a random civilian in a mid-life crisis.

mark shows up the next day at work like nothing happened. his sheepish response to your text the day before was that he had a weird one-day cold, and didn’t want to spread it to anyone. obviously, you knew he was lying but you had no choice but to accept it in the moment. one day, you promise with resolve, you’ll find out more about what that man’s hiding.

even with all his “manly” mysteriousness, you still liked mark. you just didn’t get it. it was just mark. just the same awkward mark who makes the worst jokes at all the wrong moments and is too scared (or too much of a softie to admit it) to kill a fly. as the weeks passed, your feelings only grew stronger- and not weaker as you desperately hoped. and luckily, the only one who seemed to notice something was going on with you was donghyuck, but everyone knew he said the most random shit at times, so thank goodness no one believed a word of out his mouth.

“i’m heading out, bye guys!” after packing up your stuff, you start to head for the exit after a long day at work.

“wait!” a familiar voice calls out, and you abruptly stop. mark catches up to you, handing you your jacket, and your eyes widen.

“oh no, did i leave it? thank you mark,” you grin gratefully. “yeah yeah, no problem.”

he scratches his head. “oh, and be careful going home. the crime reports at night have been rising lately…”

you nod, feeling a warm sensation fill you. “i will. be safe too.” you could always count on mark to be the caring and thoughtful one.

as the door shuts behind you, you don’t notice mark quickly say his goodbyes to head out as well. as you stroll down the cracked sidewalks of new york, you note the chilly weather. it’s been getting colder lately, you frown.

looking up at the night sky, you see a flash of red and blue pass by. immediately you can recognize the pattern. it was strange, after witnessing spiderman at work that one day, you noticed how often you saw him after that. especially at night when you walked home alone, most times when you really stopped to study your surroundings, you swear you would spot him. whether it be out of the corner of your eye or passing by right in front of you, just out of normal speaking distance, spiderman was always there.

but you never thought you’d have a face to face encounter with the spiderman. on a nice cool saturday, you went walking out to meet up with your science gang for dinner.

when you hear the oncoming noise of police sirens, you feel the hairs on your arm raise. from somewhere in front of you, sounds of hushed clamor and commotion fill the air. you can’t see much due to a crowd of civilians in front of you, and you determinedly push past to observe the scene.

it seems you were too late. the police were there and lingering effects of smoke fill your senses. but out of nowhere, a slim figure swings out of nowhere. pleased cheers arise from the crowd around you, and you realize it’s spiderman.

he speaks to the police for a brief moment before turning to the crowd. you study him up close for the first time, his build and gestures. he turns to the crowd, and you don’t pay enough attention to what he says because his voice is so familiar?

perhaps not exactly, but the way he spoke reminded you of someone you couldn’t put your finger on. your thoughts are cut off when you realize his eyes are on you (or at least with his mask on you think he was looking at you) and you look around to see that most of the crowd has dissipated while you stood there like an idiot.

“are you alright, miss?” he speaks with a slight tone of worry, and you blink, startled. you weren’t expecting him to acknowledge you, let alone talk to you.

the only thing that can come out of your mouth is, “is your suit really spandex?”

he softly laughs and that laugh makes you frown. it’s slightly muffled but you think it sounds somewhat like-

“that’s a first. to answer your question, yes and no? it’s actually made up of biogenetically modified synthetic fiber, so i don’t know if you know what that means- wait no, i wasn’t trying to assume your intelligence- um, l-let’s just say a special kind of spandex?”

gaping, you can only nod in response. since when did spiderman sound so awkward? that wasn’t even a word but it’s the only one you could use to describe him attempting to talk to you about that ‘cool’ suit of his.

“sorry about that…” you think you hear a hint of embarrassment in his voice and almost chuckle. he cocks his head before asking you for the time. when you respond, he groans, “ah, i gotta go. maybe ill see you around, miss…?”

you fumble, “uhh, y/n’s fine?” why in the world was he asking for your name?

he clicks his tongue, “nice to meet you then, y/n.” in a split second, he’s up and gone. just like that.

you stand there, staring at the spot he was just in for a few seconds. then you curse. shit, you’re going to be late.

you arrive at mick’s diner 15 minutes late. after getting caught up in spiderman stuff, you ran to the nearest subway station in hopes of making it on time and obviously, you didn’t. huffing and puffing, you push past the door and look for your friends.

chenle’s the first to spot you and raise a hand in your direction. the rest follow his action to you with curious eyes.

“there’s our sleeping beauty,” donghyuck teases and you scowl, sliding into the booth next to jisung. “funny, but this time i didn’t fall asleep. just got caught up in some stuff.”

“stuff?” mark inquires. you cough, “yeah. nothing important.” glancing down at the menu, you fail to notice his tiny frown.

“anyways,” chenle speaks up, “now that you’re here we can discuss who’s going to present to doyoung for our next monthly update.”

a series of groans follow, including yours. you steal a sip of jisung’s water before replying, “i did it last time so it’s not going to be me.”

jisung sighs in disappointment. “when is it, anyways?”

“the sixteenth,” mark affirms. jisung’s eyes widen, “shoot, i can’t be there that day. can you guys cover for me?”

you glance at him, “what’s going on?”

“it’s my mom’s birthday. can’t miss it, you know..” he says sheepishly. donghyuck nods then. “alright. it’s between chenle and mark.”

chenle sits up indignantly. “what? why not you?”

donghyuck leans back in his chair with a relaxed grin. “it’s also my mom’s birthday.”

you start off with narrowed eyes, “you fucking liar don’t-“ and you stop yourself abruptly. “wait, that’s right. your mom and jisung’s mom share a birthday.”

the table sits in silence for a few seconds.

jisung clears his throat. “i guess it’s up to rock paper scissors to decide.” mark and chenle glance at each other. within a few seconds, the loser is clear. chenle lets out a dolphin-like shriek in happiness.

mark looks around the table nervously, “wait guys, i really don’t think you should choose so hastily, maybe we should choose a back up person in case i can’t make it-“

donghyuck shakes his head in disapproval, “nope, nope. sorry but we’ve never done that before. that’s your problem, bro.”

you know what he means. mark’s always been like that. you wouldn’t describe him as flaky, but he was indeed like that. sometimes he would right next to you and then the next second he was gone without a single word. most of the time, there was no definite reason and if you did happen to ask, he say some dumb excuse on why he had to leave. it happened so much that you supposed everyone got used to it, regardless of how much he apologized after.

it didn’t mean mark wasn’t trustworthy. in fact, he was incredibly hardworking and studious. he did all his work with the rest of the group and showed up on important days, which is what mattered the most. (yet you still wondered what made you fall for him.)

“it’s alright mark,” you smile comfortingly. “i bet we can pull something together if you can’t make it.” chenle opens his mouth to protest but you shut him down with a glare.

“if the rest of us got caught up in something, i know you would come through.” mark shoots you a disgustingly sweet smile before reaching over the table and squeezing your hand in thanks, sending a jolt down your spine. the other boys share looks, which you pointedly ignore.

“you’re the best, y/n. you’re such a great friend, unlike some other guys i know,” he jokes but suddenly you don’t find it funny.

friend?

· • —– ٠ ⧗ ٠ —– • ·

at your apartment, you spend your (rare) free days lounging around and binging shows. but after that one encounter, you couldn’t resist a google search. who knew what the internet would pull up about spiderman?

as you scroll down the search results, there’s doesn’t seem to be much on him. except for the fact that he saved countless lives and the authorities either seem to love or despise him. is there nothing about his personal life? the true identity of the spandex wearing hero?

you stay up investigating (a normal for you, anyways) but there’s not much you can gather. maybe it’s a project you’ll have to investigate in your own free time.

funny, how spiderman intrigued you. literally like two days ago, you cared less about him. but after seeing him in person, there was something off. you couldn’t pinpoint a certain thing like you usually could in test results and experiments- it’s almost like everything was so indistinct about him.

you enter the building with an already half-drunk cup of coffee. your results yesterday night or rather this morning, proved to be fruitless, so you put your side project away for now.

time to focus on more important stuff… like your team’s latest experiment. why jisung chose amoeba and the rest of you listened to him, you have no clue.

while examining the latest specimen through your lens, you reach out for the next vial when mark lets out a tiny shout of your name. it’s too late and you partially knock into the beaker of boiling hot water instead of the vial.

immediately, you yelp as some of the water splashes onto you and mark rushes to your side. he grabs your burned hand, and you feel your face growing hotter than your hand that literally just got burned by boiling water a second ago.

“are you alright? how bad does it hurt?” he stares at you with such concern in his eyes, it throws you off. you think someone else asks a question in all the commotion, but you either tuned it out or imagined it.

“oh-um- it doesn’t hurt that much yet,” you mutter helplessly and he frowns while inspecting your hand which was growing increasingly red.

“come on, let’s get some first aid. it’s going to get worse if you don’t treat it quickly.”

stunned by his sudden orders, you allow him to basically drag you out of the lab and to the lounge, leaving the rest of the guys to shake their head in disapproval of your idiocy.

you didn’t even know there was a first aid kit under the kitchen sink, and you make a mental note to tell jisung the next time he causes an accident with that clumsy body of his.

mark focuses intently on treating your burn, and you focus on not internally combusting at the sight of him caring for you. you really shouldn’t take it the wrong way- he literally addressed you as his friend not long ago, but you really couldn’t help it when his face was two inches away from yours.

mark finishes with a light smile and scolding. you look down at the floor, half embarrassed and half ashamed. “i was being stupid and not paying attention to my surroundings… sorry for getting you involved in this,” you gesture to your newly wrapped hand.

he shakes his head firmly. “i should’ve warned you about the hot water beforehand. it’s my responsibility to take care of you. just be careful from now on, alright? you almost gave me a heart attack,” he jokes and you appreciate the switch to a lighter atmosphere.

“not as bad as the time chenle almost set the entire building on fire,” you add and he laughs. fuck, you couldn’t get enough of making him laugh.

you spend the rest of the afternoon in a daze, constantly fiddling with your wrapped arm and wondering how mark learned to treat burns. throughout the day it takes the others several repeats of your name for you to respond, and donghyuck sends you weird looks (which you ignore as usual). this causes you to stay behind for a little to catch up on your work, but you manage to finish soon after the others.

locking the door to your lab, you casually stroll down the hallway before hearing familiar voices. you’re about to turn the corner and join in, but you stop when you pinpoint exactly whose it is.

“i don’t know. i’m just way too busy nowadays.”

mark lee?

“doing what? come on, are you sure? that’s what everyone says but-“

and a fucking piece of sh- you shake your head, donghyuck?

“listen, dude. in my current situation, i will never be in a relationship. i just don’t want one, not now and probably not for a while- maybe even forever.”

standing there and overhearing just the tail end of the conversation, his tone of finality was weird- mark never sounded like that to others, especially to his friends.

and more importantly, the meaning of his words hit you. mark’s single, and he he isn’t interested. not in you, and not in anyone. and there’s a chance that could be forever.

you quietly grab your stuff and leave through the back entrance, not stopping to hear anymore or give your goodbyes to anyone.

· • —– ٠ ⧗ ٠ —– • ·

you think the change in behavior is pretty obvious- to everyone including him.

that night after you overheard mark and donghyuck’s conversation, you stayed up thinking. thinking, more thinking, probably overthinking. you felt numb replaying mark’s words over and over in your head.

honestly, you should’ve expected it. why would mark be interested in you, anyways?

and why were you interested in him? the more you thought about it, the more you tried to convince yourself that you didn’t want to be in a relationship either.

your focus was on your studies, then your work, and it always had been (perhaps that was the problem). your parents raised you with high expectations and you did your best to fulfill them, not get sidetracked by gossiping friends and boys.

you convince yourself that you’re officially on the track to get over mark, even when you know it’s useless.

to help your wounded heart, you build an invisible barrier between you and him. sure, you still talk to him and hang out as friends, but the distance was there and the others saw. even if they did notice, no one said anything. you weren’t actually expecting mark to ask you if he did something wrong, looking disappointed and even a little hurt.

you being you and not ready to tell him the truth, give the lame excuse of being stressed from work and life in general. which, in fact, wasn’t wrong. you had the unhealthy habit of shutting people out when everything got overwhelming.

then the day of monthly presentation shows up, and doyoung wasn’t in a good mood. donghyuck and jisung take the day off, understandably, as faithful sons to their mothers.

it’s just you, chenle, and mark. that was the plan- at least, until mark doesn’t show up at the planned time to present. no mark, no presentation, no excuse.

luckily for your group, chenle was able to make up an impromptu presentation on the spot. it wasn’t good but it was something and you both left feeling somewhat accomplished of your spontaneous work.

the messages sent to mark are left on delivered. you aren’t surprised.

when you go to use the restroom before heading home, you faintly overhear your fellow coworkers mentioning spiderman and a prison breakout, couple of hours earlier- and you wonder if it had anything to do with mark’s disappearance.

it’s only when you leave the building that you see the striking red and blue silhouette perched on the scaffolding next to the oscorp building. what was spiderman doing so close nearby?

most people wouldn’t have spotted him but you realized that you must’ve been gotten so used to seeing him that you subconsciously looked for him every time you left work. suddenly remembering the news from earlier, you clear your throat and approach the masked hero.

“so…. prison outbreak tonight, huh?”

the figure almost starts as if surprised that you noticed him, and you stifle a laugh. “yeah, yeah. it’s all a part of the usual. new york things, you know.” you nod in agreement and spiderman jumps gracefully down to a lower perch, giving you a better view of him.

“hey, um, y/n? right? i remember you from last time.”

your eyes widen in shock, you didn’t expect him to remember you but it leaves a satisfied feeling in your gut. “yes- that’s me. funny seeing you here outside my work place.”

he stiffens. “i-i see. this is where you work?

you examine him in his entirety, never having been so close to spiderman before in the entirety of constantly seeing him on the news and now in front of you. you don’t grasp why you feel so comfortable in his presence.

you look down, shoe scruffing the pavement. “do you, like, always have conversations with random people in the middle of the night?”

“you’re not a stranger,” spiderman protests, “i even know your first name.” he says it so proudly that you allow yourself to let out a laugh.

“you’re cool, unlike some other guys i know,” he jokes and it takes a second to process his words before you feel your heart stop. no fucking way.

no way- it sounded way too familiar to be true. it can’t be.

but you’re really not stupid.

as all the possible conclusions run through your mind, you feel your heart begin to race- you need to get out of there.

you clutch your stomach, suddenly woozy. “i-i need to go,” you weakly stutter, not even caring if he heard or waiting for his response before making a run for it.

· • —– ٠ ⧗ ٠ —– • ·

you can’t sleep.

and you don’t even know how to explain it, it’s like the missing puzzle piece is finally solved. everything finally makes sense now, and you don’t know if you’re relieved or angry or upset or feeling everything all at once.

you sit up for the nth time, probably with horrible bed hair and bloodshot eyes.

mark lee is…

spiderman.

thinking back through everything- from the first day you met him until now, statistically it does make the most sense. it has to be. there’s literally no other explanation or reasoning.

and you hate yourself for figuring it out. after days of convincing yourself that mark wasn’t all that, that he wasn’t worth your time or feelings, that man was out saving the entire city. risking his entire life for people who don’t know and maybe don’t even care about him- people like you. or at least, until you figured out his identity.

unless… it was just a complete strange coincidence. unless it wasn’t true and mark was just a part time asshole. but all the times he was “absent” or when he had all those unexplainable bruises, was it actually spiderman business?

you silently scream, the urge to rip your hair out was so tempting at this point. your poor alarm clock reading 4:32 am acts as witness to your concurrent loss of sanity.

you called bullshit on mark before, you just didn’t expect him to be such a fucking idiot.

now that you know, or you think you know, you’re not quite sure what to do. do you… ask mark? no, you wave away dismissively with your hand- that would be stupid, especially if he wasn’t spiderman.

you decide to pry it out of him. after all, the truth always came out.

even if it was a little harder than expected. not to mention the fact that things were a little rocky between you and him.

“hey guys,” you greet while walking into the laboratory. “still up for movie night? it’s been a while since we’ve all gotten together.”

the boys voice their agreement and you squint. this is your chance.

“what about mark’s place?”

he turns to you, eyebrows raised in slight surprise. “m-mine?” you feign innocence, shrugging with extreme casualness. “i mean, why not? it’s been a really long time since we’ve met at your place.”

jisung nods, “y/n’s right. i don’t even remember the last time we went to mark’s apartment.”

“oh, i dunno. it’s super disorganized and messy… at least give me a chance to clean if you guys want to come over.” he scratches his neck and you let out a breath in disbelief. what was he hiding?

and as much as you tried that night at his place, there were no signs of “spider” activity.

the next couple of days at work, you bring spiderman up randomly, make spiderman jokes-

“no offense y/n but it’s kinda like you’re obsessed with the poor dude. i thought you didn’t like him, what happened?”

you roll your eyes, missing mark stiffening at donghyuck’s statement. “mind your own business, hyuck.” what you really wanted to say was, i think our friend is freaking spiderman.

but every time you brought him up, mark barely even flinched. either he was really good or you were just being an idiot and your hypothesis was far from reality.

you’ve just about given it up and called it a day with your whole spider-mark agenda when you exit from the back door of the building. sometimes you took the back way to avoid traffic (and creeps).

huffing out into the chilly air, you don’t even pay attention to your surroundings until shuffling in front of you catches your eye.

it’s partially hidden by the shadow, but you think you can make out a person-

a shuddering gasp escapes you.

mark, in all his glory, half changed into that familiar red and blue spiderman suit?

you were so shocked you completely disregarded the fact that he was half-naked (and luckily for you it was the top half). the noise that sounded from your mouth alerts him, and he scrambles to face you. it looked too legit to be a fake cosplay.

you gape at him, utterly shocked. no way your guess was actually correct?

mark fumbles for words, while you find yours.

“h-how long has this been going on?” you try to keep your tone even, but you feel your hands shaking. when mark doesn’t reply, only opening his mouth wordlessly and looking helplessly back at you, you cross your arms.

“wow, thanks. great to know.” for some reason, you feel disappointment swirl inside you. you scramble to leave, mind and heart racing probably just as much as his was.

the more you walked further from mark and the longer you thought about it, the more angry and frustrated you got. how long was he going to keep it from you guys? weren’t you- you swallow- weren’t you friends? didn’t he trust you guys?

you wish you could feel angry, but that was never an emotion you directed towards mark lee.

· • —– ٠ ⧗ ٠ —– • ·

the next morning, a lovely saturday morning, your doorbell rings. and it never does.

groaning, you throw on a comfy nyu sweatshirt and attempt to tame your wild hair, you didn’t want to scare the person at the door.

you freeze once you peek through the peephole. well, shoot.

you dash halfway toward the bathroom in hopes of quickly fixing your appearance before thinking, what the hell, this is not the time for that.

sucking in a deep breath, you open the door for the waiting person outside. you start off awkwardly, “hey…. mark.”

why is he here? you can barely function as he shoots you a sheepish smile, gesturing in towards your messy apartment. he lived in the apartment complex a block down from yours, so seeing him wasn’t uncommon. but in your current situation, you didn’t really expect mark to show up on your doorstep.

“y/n- hey- i just, uh, wanted to apologize.” you almost choke. “to me? wait, no, what?”

he firmly places a hand on the doorframe next to you, leaning in like he was trying to trap you but there was plenty of space for you to back up into your place. you feel your heart skip a beat. not now y/n, you scold yourself. “listen, now that you figured…” he hesitates and you swallow,

“now that you know, i realize i owe you an apology.”

you fall still. “im really sorry for not telling you. i haven’t told any of the other guys either, mainly because i’m a coward and didn’t want to see your reactions. but now,” mark shuffles around and his fluffy black hair falls into his eyes, “you know. and i feel a lot better that you do. that, at least someone else does.”

you don’t know what to say. suddenly, you understand him. how hard and scary it must’ve been doing like a five person job as one mere human, constantly in the fight for life or death. you reach for him, softly wrapping your arms around him. you pray he doesn’t notice your pounding heart but knowing mark, he probably did (except he was too nice to tell you).

“it’s okay mark,” you murmur into his shoulder. “i forgive you and i won’t tell anyone if you don’t want. you don’t have to do this alone.” you note the action of his body slightly tensing before relaxing into your touch.

you couldn’t help but stay up that night. just thinking. the fact that mark was glad you knew- you clutch your chest. it was stupid, you shouldn’t get your hopes up. you felt like a lovesick teenager again, having a secret just between the two of you.

what you didn’t realize though, was that mark never planned on telling you. and that was obvious through how he acted towards you after you figured out he was spiderman. it was just that. nothing changed and mark acted as if nothing happened. and you didn’t know what to do. it’s like you raised your expectations to only get crushed again.

you couldn’t even bring it up, ask mark more about his spider activities because he would always give you that “not here, now now” look. you felt like you were stuck in an empty room with no way out. if not now, then when?

you asked him to hang out- no response or the ‘sorry, im busy’. and the rare times mark did accept, he was late. sometimes, didn’t even show. you understood his spiderman duties, but you thought conveyed your trust and support in him. isn’t that what he wanted? someone to lean on, someone to be there for him?

or were you just delusional?

· • —– ٠ ⧗ ٠ —– • ·

you needed some kind of answer, and if mark wasn’t around to spill, you would find the closest person. literally.

tapping your pen on the desk, you turn around in your spinny chair to face the only other person in the room.

“hyuck,” you whisper, tapping his shoulder. he grunts in response. you exhale, “can we talk?”

he doesn’t break focus on the lab reports in front of him, but you can tell he’s paying attention to you by the way his body is slightly turned your way. “depends on what.”

you huff, scooting closer to him. “it’s about mark.” that gets his attention. he sits up straight, eyes narrowing at you. “oh really?”

“not like that,” you respond in exasperation. “don’t you think,” you pause to reevaluate your wording, “that he changed? i’m asking you because you’ve known him way longer than i have, and to be honest i don’t even know him that well.”

donghyuck raises an eyebrow. “um, sure? why are you-“

“don’t ask,” you interrupt, “just please think about it.” he frowns in contemplation, chair squeaking occasionally in his spot.

“i guess he did. maybe around a year or two ago?” you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. he continues, “it wasn’t anything major. mark is still basically the same mark i knew since we were young,” he adds and you nod. “it’s just that a couple of years ago he suddenly- how do i say this- withdrew within himself.”

“you know about the bruises and stuff, but you might not know about his personality. he was still the same, but it felt like he wasn’t always there 100% anymore, you know? all of a sudden he became so private and busy, doing stuff he wouldn’t tell any of us about. he was either constantly late to our plans or didn’t even show up,” donghyuck muses. “and it’s not like we didn’t try to help. mark just insisted he didn’t need anything, it was some personal stuff that he just had to work through. he’s always been like that, brushing off our help.”

“and you guys didn’t question it? maybe, try to like figure out what was going on?” you attempt to act as innocent as possible, shrugging and sending him a seemingly curious look. he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “of course we did try. but that man is so secretive we couldn’t get anything out to him. eventually we just gave up and things are as they are now. he seems okay and we trust him, so...”

you frown unconsciously. then how did you figure it out? to be honest, it didn’t look like mark was that good at hiding it…

you don’t know what to say. a silence fills the air before you clear your throat. “wow, i had no idea. thanks, hyuck.” he shoots you a weird look before nodding.

“no problem, y/n.”

· • —– ٠ ⧗ ٠ —– • ·

feeling nervous, you wait outside mark’s door, laptop and research papers in hand. on the contrary, it wasn’t your choice to work with him, it just randomly ended up with you two working together. ignoring donghyuck’s teasing, you and mark made plans to meet up today and get some work done.

you frown. he hasn’t answered the door, you ring again. and then a third time.

still nothing. you check the time, yeah it’s the right time you agreed to meet up at.

you’re about to knock harder when you hear a sudden clamor, crashing and shuffling sounds coming from inside the apartment. “coming!” you hear mark’s faint voice. he sounded frantic, and tired.

mark opens the door, and you’re greeted by his disheveled appearance. “hey,” he greets, breathless. you want to ask him if it had anything to do with spiderman, but fear holds you back.

“hi?” he invites you in and allows you to get settled on the couch. “are you gonna sit?” you ask, watching him pick up messy tidbits scattered on his floor. “yeah-yeah, give me a sec.”

you open your laptop, starting your work. so far, things seem to be natural between you two and you’re not complaining. soon, mark sits across from you. thirty minutes go by, and when mark shifts for the hundredth time in his spot you let out an irritated sigh and shut your laptop screen.

“how long are you going to pretend you’re okay?”

mark’s head shoots up, his large eyes blinking back at you. “w-what?”

shaking your head, you get up and stalk over to him. caught off guard, mark only watches as you softly place a hand on his chest and he lets out the tiniest hiss.

your eyes flash. “you may be a good spiderman but you’re not a good actor, lee.”

“im fine-“ he starts off, but you shoot a look and he shuts up. you soften, scooting a bit closer. “what happened, mark?”

he grimaces. “do you really want to see? i didn’t have much time since i kind of forgot you were supposed to com-“

you cut him off by asking for the location of a first aid kit. you assumed he had one, and of course you were right. letting out a sigh, you ask him to take off his shirt. you didn’t know much about first aid but…

“whoa- are you sure? it’s not-“

“just do it mark. you’re obviously in pain and im trying to help you.”

hesitantly and slowly, mark peels off his shirt with your assistance. you barely hold back a gasp at the deep gash across his chest, decorated with bruises of all colors.

“m-mark, who did this to you?”

he winces a bit at your touch, “i’ve been through worse, and really it’s best not to ask.” you help him lay down on the small couch, the fact that he was shirtless (and to be frank, ripped) was the last thing in your mind as you raced to figure out to treat it.

while cleaning the wound, you couldn’t help but let curiosity win the upper hand. “does this happen every time? and you treat it yourself?”

mark shifts. “…yeah. sometimes it’s not as bad, and sometimes it’s worse. it always heals fast though,” he reassures.

you shake your head in disbelief. “but still, how do you do this? and by yourself?”

he lets out a groan when you touch a sensitive part, and you quickly act to soothe him.

“it’s hard,” he whispers some time after. “it’s a lot and i honestly don’t know how im doing it still. by now, i thought i would be de-“

“don’t say that,” you speak up sharply. he falls silent and you focus on treating the minor cuts and bruises last.

without any prompting, mark tells you the whole story. how he got started working at oscorp, how he got bit and started as spiderman. you stay there and listen, through all of it.

it’s not until hours later with lots of reassurance from mark and his supposed advanced healing? that you can finally get him to his bed and rest, wiping the sweat from his head and yours too.

you sit at his side for a little, just watching the rise and fall of his chest. “i said this before, but you’re not alone.”

he glances at you. “im here, and i can help. willingly,” you insist. he frowns, “what are you saying, y/n?”

you look around his room, seeing all his tech and data sprawled across the walls and all over the floor. so this is what it was like being spiderman. “i can help you. like, im pretty good at computer hacking and data...” you trail off, unconfident. mark tries to sit up but you won’t allow him.

“mark, it’s clear you can barely do this alone. think about it, i could help you on the sidelines. obviously not in action because there’s no way i could do what you do, but wouldn’t it make what you do much easier? just like in the movies, isn’t there always like a sidekick?”

he furrows his eyebrows. “are you trying to-?“ you look away, the sudden confidence fading.

“no way, y/n! this is completely different, it’s not like the movies at all. being spiderman is a dangerous job, and im not going to get you involved in it!”

you look away, clutching the edge of his bedsheets. “it’s really late and i have to go now. but mark, please think about it,” you offer before slipping away.

you had no clue why you offered that. you never even thought of that before, it just kind of popped up in your head and came from your mouth without you realizing it. mark was right, it was stupid. why would you ever want to be spiderman’s sidekick?

but the more you thought about it, the more you wanted to do it. you were the only one that knew about his secret, his struggles. you wanted to help him- help the people of new york.

you didn’t want to be one of those people on the sidelines anymore, only watching and never doing.

· • —– ٠ ⧗ ٠ —– • ·

mark thought you dropped the subject. he saw you at work the next day, as if nothing happened. he felt a lot better, thanks to you- even if he spent most of the night staying up due to what you said yesterday.

mark believed you were actually crazy. who in their right mind would want to be a sidekick, much less of him, spiderman?

he brushed it off, but you didn’t. at lunch, you brought it up. whenever it was just the two of you, you asked him. and every time, he said no. it was getting annoying. you kept coming up with more and more reasons for you to help mark. to be frank, you were too smart for your own good.

“listen y/n, no matter how foolproof you think your plan is, the risk is just too big,” mark emphasizes. he was getting tired of putting up a fight against you, and he was tired of how stubborn you were.

you cross your arms. “but i thought of all the backup plans. if i stay in a safe place with access to help and turn off all tracking devices used to locate me.” mark pinches his nose bridge.

“since when were you so technologically advanced?”

“since when were you?” you counter. smiling, you pull up data on your phone and show it to him. “at your place that night, i might’ve snooped through some of your spider tech and analyzed it.”

his eyes practically bulge. “you what?”

you shrug innocently. “it was really cool, the software was nothing like i’ve seen before, but i have some ideas. only….” you draw on, “if you let me help you.”

it was only then that mark learned you never stopped until you got what you wanted.

· • —– ٠ ⧗ ٠ —– • ·

“what do you think?”

you sit at the makeshift desk, a messy and dysfunctional one, but at least it worked. you watch the big screen, following the familiar icon.

“…it’s not so bad.” the voice grudgingly sounds through. you grin. “great! you can hear me. oh, and take the next left around the block. i think there’s some sort of incident on the corner- some reckless guys with guns.”

you hear unfamiliar sounds, probably mark swinging through the air as spiderman. you would never understand how he got used to that. “not too shabby, y/l/n.”

“does that mean it’s official?” you basically tremble in your seat, holding your breath in anticipation.

there’s a pause on the line. albeit the reluctance in his tone, you can almost see the smile on mark’s face, underneath the mask. “i guess so.”

you can’t help but silently cheer in your seat, feeling the excitement coarse through your veins.

“im ready if you are, partner.”

release: july 4 2022

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#nct dream x reader #mark x reader #mark lee x reader #nct dream scenarios #nct dream au #mark fluff #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 x you #nct dream x you #mark imagines #nct dream fluff #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios

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darsynia · 1 year

Text

Modern Mythology | Ch1

(Tony Stark/OC; soulmate AU pre-Ultron, in 3 parts)

image from peakpx.com | gif from @anthonyed

Summary: Abigail Carson takes a chance on a second job as a courier in the hopes that it'll help her find her soulmate, whose words on her skin imply that he's signing for a package she delivers. When she hears the words spoken by Tony Stark, though, Abbi has second thoughts. She's practically a nobody!

Length: 3,974

MY MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER

Taglist: @starryeyes2000 @raith-way @arrthurpendragon, @starksbf

Excerpt:

Abbi pulled out the small clipboard from her pocket, flipped to the blank back of the package acceptance template, and wrote a message on it, sideways, in large block letters.

‘I AM NOT YOUR SOULMATE IF I HAVEN’T SAID YOUR WORDS!’

She held it up for when he turned around from scaring away her ride back to work. It took a little while, because unbelievably, the taxi driver was congratulating Stark on such a momentous occasion. Finally, he hit the top of the taxi with his Iron Man gauntlet and the woman drove away. A black SUV pulled up in its place almost immediately. As soon as he saw her holding up the clipboard, Stark came over to read it, standing too close for her comfort.

Abbi made the mistake of watching his face as he read. He’d walked over with an amused confidence, but a wall of defensiveness seemed to rise up in his expression and he looked her right in her eyes as soon as he finished reading.

“What, the giant tower and superhero suit didn’t go in the ‘Pros’ column?”

Chapter One: Goddess Observed

When Abigail’s mother pressed her to find her soulmate, Abbi had no idea that she’d learn that there was an underground courier culture in New York City. Her job at Vail & Nysa was great, even though she’d always wanted to finish her law degree, but there would be time for that someday. For now, being a paralegal was close enough, and it had unexpectedly opened up a secondary opportunity.

Apparently, there were levels of being a courier. Abbi had thought that she’d end up picking up and dropping off things in lobbies here and there on her way to work and on her lunch break. But as soon as she walked into the downtown office of You Send Me, the receptionist took one look at her professional clothing and sent her upstairs. There wasn’t a receptionist there, just a clipboard with names that had been blacked out as they were seen, it looked like. Hoping this wasn’t a secret first step to a fifty-step process of earning a job at Google she didn’t intend on taking, Abbi wrote down Abigail Carson and sat down to wait with her hands in her lap. Work had been a half day anyway, so she had the time to find out what kind of mysterious chance she might be given.

It took almost a half hour. She (of course) didn’t check her watch, certain that that would be noticed. The longer she sat, the more Abbi was consumed with curiosity. As much as she could, though, she kept her green eyes trained on a spot on the wall in front of her, and tried not to touch the chignon her shoulder-length brown hair was styled into. Inside, her mind swirled with possibilities. Outside, she was the picture of a calm, collected young woman.

“Ms. Carson?” The speaker was an older woman garbed in rich purple and covered with jewelry. Sometimes Abbi really loved when New York City lived up to its mythos.

As it turned out, You Send Me had a higher-end courier business whose employees were hand-picked and mostly consisted of young women dressed as if for the boardroom or court. At its heart, Courier and Ives was, Mrs. Violet Walsingham told Abbi, a business trying to cater to companies who didn’t want a disruptive, enthusiastic young delivery person in street clothes bopping in to deliver something sensitive or vital in nature.

That was when Abbi asked point-blank if it was a disguised escort service. Mrs. Walsingham cackled and begged her to sign up, even if she only delivered packages once a week. She told Abbi that while yes, professional young women rarely had the chance to meet men outside their own office during work hours, and Courier and Ives did end up facilitating that sometimes, their reputation as a courier service was impeccable.

Abbi showed the woman her soulmark, confessed her reasons for applying, and was told she was exactly the kind of young woman they were looking for.

Her mother was full of delight when Abbi told her about what happened. Demi Carson had lived an adventurous life, and she was always encouraging Abbi to live hers to the fullest as much as possible. Their family vacations were always to as exotic a location as they could afford, the schedule packed with anything that looked unique and challenging. They hadn’t always felt safe but they’d always had a good story to tell later.

Secretly, Abbi had always wondered if her mom had married Atticus Carson because his name was unique. Her father had been dour but loving, and any fights she’d ever observed had stemmed from a conflict of personalities. That conflict was embodied in Abbi herself in many ways-- she was adventurous but economical, free-spirited as much as possible while still grounded in the here and now. If it was within her budget and didn’t risk her future, Abigail Carson liked taking a chance on something exciting.

Courier and Ives was right up her alley. She couldn’t wait to start.

Her biggest hope was that she’d run into her soulmate, who would be an up-and-coming executive type with a head for business and a heart for taking a few measured chances. Her biggest fear was that her soulmate would actually turn out to be a big-spender, big-risk type of guy whose lifestyle would fill her with the kind of dread she watched her father deal with when her mother was in one of her moods. Before they’d lost him to a heart attack, her father had told her he’d loved his life, and the only thing he would have changed was perhaps trying to temper his wife’s most grandiose tendencies. Abbi’s soulmark did imply that the speaker would be someone who wouldn’t ordinarily take deliveries, but she didn’t worry about that too much. If he was her soulmate, they were made for each other, and it would be worth it, just like her parents’ marriage was. They’d been soulmates too.

By a month into the job, Abbi was starting to enjoy the excited rush she felt every time she walked up to a man to hand over a discreet package. Her soulmate words had turned a job that already let her observe various exclusive offices and meetings into an exciting chance at a new life! She got a message every few days, though today had been day four since her last one. When she stopped by on her lunch hour to pick it up, she was surprised to see that it was to Avengers Tower.

The re-named Stark Tower was a different kind of ‘exclusive’ than the expensive, chic office spaces that Courier and Ives women were often sent to. There wasn’t just a chance at running into a wealthy executive there, but also bona-fide superheroes. It was a plum job, and Abbi was the newest employee. She asked Mrs. Walsingham if there had been a mistake.

“No mistake, sweetheart! We accepted delivery of this item from a confidential source and it needs to be run over to the tower. You’re the only one with availability in the next hour. If Minthe Lawson gives you grief about it, you come to me, got it?” The kindly old lady gave Abbi a once-over. “That gold-colored suit is absolutely stunning. One of Stark’s favorite colors, I hear!”

Inwardly, Abbi winced. Anthony Stark was one person she would be happy to miss seeing-- as handsome as he was, the man was a walking PR disaster. Reportedly, he’d been building some kind of robot army after his girlfriend and CEO of his company had left him a few months ago. Just being an unfamiliar young woman in his general proximity would probably be enough to get his attention nowadays, or so the tabloids said, much less wearing his favorite color. Her mother had bought her the suit jacket and miniskirt set, and always loved seeing her wearing it for work. There were few opportunities where she could wear it, because paralegals were to be seen and not heard, at her firm (and she preferred it that way), but today was a celebration for a successful win of the case she’d been working on, and Abbi had made an exception. The skirt was shorter than she was used to, too.

Gritting her teeth, she left, hoping she’d get through Avengers Tower without running across its most famous resident. The object looked like a suitcase, but after the incident at Monaco Abbi knew that an object going to Stark Industries could be anything disguised as anything. Her credentials got her through the door just fine, and she was sent up to the 72nd floor to a conference room.

She tapped lightly on the door and it opened inward. Slowly, Abbi walked into the doorway, where she was faced with all of the Avengers, at least the ones she could recognize.

“Tony, a scared-looking delivery girl is here with the suitcase you had made for the scepter,” a man dressed all in black said. He smiled at her in a kindly sort of way, turning around to call for Stark again. On his back was an actual quiver full of arrows.

“Oh, that’s not necessary, I could probably give this to any one of you?” Abbi said desperately. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the card with the instructions. “Yes. Avengers or associated staff. I’ll just--” she turned to look for someone much more junior and less busy to hand the object off to.

“Found him,” the archer sing-songed.

Abbi stopped short. With a pasted-on smile, she turned around and was faced with Tony Stark. He was dressed in a band t-shirt and jeans, and he must have been laughing with one of the other people in the room before being called over, because his smile was bright, genuine, and devastating. Abbi had always thought he was handsome in magazine pictures, read articles that called him charismatic, but she’d never seen such clear evidence of the difference between a picture and a person before.

Tony Stark was magnetizing, and she’d only been around him for three seconds so far.

For his part, Stark seemed to find her interesting as well, which was disconcerting for Abbi. He leaned his head back and regarded her, the initial brilliant smile on his face morphing into an impressed, pleased look.

“I wonder where Violet keeps finding so many respectable young women,” he said under his breath. Then, over his shoulder to another man, he added, “You’d think she would run out, after a while.”

Abbi had been trained to be polite, gracious, even accommodating, but she felt objectified, and it made her actions a bit stiff. She held out the suitcase with a strained, silent smile. He gestured to the table beside him for her to set it down, his eyes narrowing just a touch in recognition of her attitude. Stark was a tech genius, yes, but he bucked their trend of being awkward and unskilled with women. He could tell she disapproved of him. Abbi felt her face flush at the subtle rebuke, and pulled out a small clipboard for his signature. Apologizing would just make things worse.

“You didn’t expect me to be the one to sign for this, did you?” he asked as he bent over the flat surface to scribble his signature.

Abbi’s grip on the clipboard failed on hearing her soulmark words. Her heart started pounding and she felt goosebumps rise on her arms. It was as if his words had loosened the cork that had been holding back all possible reactions to hearing her soulmate’s first words, and in a fluke of fate, she was feeling all of them at once. Horror, excitement, attraction, repulsion.

Stark reached out quickly to steady the clipboard with his other hand as he finished signing, looking up at her quizzically.

If fate had decreed her soulmate was Tony Stark and she apologized for letting go, those would be the words written on his body somewhere. But what if it was a coincidence? Surely that phrase had been spoken before and would be again? Abbi dipped her head in a silent goodbye, pressed her lips together in case she accidentally said something, and turned to go, moving quickly to escape the situation.

“Hey, Cleopatra in the gold suit! Gonna need this.”

She stopped a foot from the elevator button, and Stark walked over to hand her the clipboard, looking a bit regretful to give it back, for some reason. Abbi took it, pulling out the side of her jacket to tuck it into the inside pocket. She felt dizzy, almost like she was observing herself from the outside, and some of that must have shown on her face.

“You all right? Here,” he said, reaching out to tap the button for the elevator. “Look at me,” Stark commanded, and she let out a quick breath to steady herself before lifting her eyes to his. “Green!” he said with a slow, pleased smile. Abbi had to fight back a feeling of pride, as if it should matter whether this man liked the color of her eyes. “Well, Emerald Eyes, you seem to be experiencing Superhero Swoon, which is understandable after being confronted with a room full of them. I’m happy to offer a manful shoulder should you so require?”

Abbi shook her head right as the elevator doors opened, offering an apologetic smile as she scurried inside.

“No name, not even for the review?”

She shook her head again.

“Silent rabbit mode it is, then. I’ll just have to have something else delivered. Until next time!” Stark said with an impish grin just as the doors closed.

“Oh my God, that did not just happen. Please tell me that did not just happen!” Abbi said out loud to the empty elevator, groaning. “It was a fluke. That’s what it was. It only counts if I say his words back, and I am not going to, because there’s no way in hell that Tony Stark is my soulmate. Nope!” A voice in her head that sounded an awful lot like her mother’s pointed out that he was wealthy, handsome, and a certified genius, but most importantly, not in any way boring! Abbi had quite a lot of experience ignoring her mother’s voice in her head, however. Where most women heard their mother’s voice criticizing them, hers was like the impulsive devil on her shoulder.

It was practically inconceivable that someone of Stark’s stature would be unbonded at his age anyway. And he’d just broken up with his long-term girlfriend. The man had clearly not been concerned with finding his soulmate and hadn’t been for years. As far as Abbi was concerned, if she was his soulmate, he never had to find out. She left the elevator, nodded to the front desk person, and walked outside. Her plan was to call a taxi and never set foot in the tower again.

She raised a hand for a taxi and saw one that had been idling at the corner a block away put on its turn signal. The driver waved at her, and Abbi waved back.

Suddenly, Iron Man came flying down from the top of the tower, landing on one knee in front of her before straightening up. The faceplate flipped up to show Tony Stark.

“So, funny thing about the elevators in my tower. They’re run by my AI, JARVIS, who likes to pass on any pertinent information spoken in his presence.” Stark’s brown eyes were bright, hopeful, and fixed on her. His demeanor was placating, holding out one hand as if begging her to stay put.

Abbi almost told him she was sorry but there was probably a mistake. Then she realized that if there wasn’t a mistake, those would be the words written on his body. He deserved better than that. He deserved a fancy celebrity soulmate, not a young woman looking at turning thirty with half of the goals she’d made at twenty still unfulfilled! So she shook her head at him and pointed at the taxi that pulled up right then.

To her immense frustration, Stark leaned over, mimed rolling down a window, and told the taxi driver that he and his soulmate were having a one-sided conversation, and to move on.

Abbi pulled out the small clipboard from her pocket, flipped to the blank back of the package acceptance template, and wrote a message on it, sideways, in large block letters.

I AM NOT YOUR SOULMATE IF I HAVEN’T SAID YOUR WORDS!

“What, the giant tower and superhero suit didn’t go in the ‘Pros’ column?”

Something inside her twisted up to hear the vulnerability in his tone. She ruthlessly suppressed them. This man wasn’t for her. It just wasn’t possible. Abbi tried to flip to a new page, but the one she’d just written on came loose. He stopped the small, square note card from flying away by stepping on it, then Stark leaned over and picked it up.

“Would you believe this thing doesn’t have pockets? Back to the drawing board,” he joked. It was impossible not to laugh. “Got you,” he said softly. Even as she was writing another message for him, Stark reached out and rested his gauntleted hand on the clipboard, then took it from her entirely. He glanced at what she’d started writing (‘I need to get back to work and you just took my ride!’) and nodded. “I called one of my guys, he’ll drive you wherever you want, and I made him promise not to tell me where, even.”

Abbi looked up at him in surprise. The vulnerability and defensiveness were still there, but there was stubborn amusement in his expression now, as well.

“You still need to be convinced,” he said. Abbi shook her head and looked at her watch. The office party would start in twenty minutes, and Stark looked like he had twenty minutes’ worth of arguing in him. “Listen,” he said, stepping even closer.

She crossed her arms to put a little distance between them, but the action emphasized the small bit of cleavage her blouse showed, and she saw him notice that. There was definitely a heat between them, but she was willing to ignore it. The man probably had heat with everyone, honestly.

Stark pointed between the two of them as he started speaking again. “You doubt this soulmate thing is real, but that doubt is a point in your favor. Do you know how many women would fake my words if they knew what they were? And here you are, you could say anything, and that’s what they’d be. Embrace the power, Iris.” He paused, clearly saw her brows furrowed in confusion, and added, “I don’t know if soulmate words change, but please don’t turn mine into a question about Greek mythology. Iris, female messenger to the Gods.” He grinned. “Feel free to say, ‘Does that mean you think you are a god?’ because that would be badass. I’d be happy to give up my current soulmark if that’s what the new one was.”

Abbi shook her head. She felt lightheaded again, but instead of dizziness, it was a kind of excited anticipation. He obviously was convinced they were soulmates, and despite herself, she was influenced by that a little bit. Her practicality won out, though. She was going to be late for work, and he was a billionaire. The sun was not destined to fall in love with a fluorescent lightbulb! Abbi stepped back from Stark, sighed, and walked over to the car.

He opened the door and ushered her in. “This is Happy Hogan, he’ll take you to work. Happy, we agreed you wouldn’t tell me anything she said, right?”

“Right,” the round-faced man in the front seat said.

“His AI monitors the car, doesn’t it?” Abbi asked Hogan.

“It sure does,” Hogan said, grinning at Stark.

“Traitor,” Stark said. He shifted his gaze to Abbi, and she could see admiration in it. “I like smart women. Even ones smart enough to want to stay far away from me.”

Before she could react to that, he stepped back, shut the door, and activated his suit, flying straight up and out of her line of sight.

“I wish I could re-do this entire day,” Abbi sighed, throwing her head back in the seat and closing her eyes tightly.

“I get that a lot,” Hogan said sympathetically. “Where can I drive you?”

“My mother used to always answer, ‘Crazy,’ but I think that’s the location I am currently leaving at the moment. How about the Solow Building?”

True to his word, Hogan delivered her to her workplace and didn’t even ask her name. His only concession to the strangeness of the situation was when he pulled up to the building and then turned to speak to her.

“I know you’ve got to make up your own mind, here, but I would be eternally grateful if you would just do one thing for me.”

Abbi eyed him warily. “What?”

“I’ve heard of soulmate words changing in very rare situations. I’ve seen his, so I know what you’re supposed to say, but if you could change them to, I don’t know, ‘Happy says you’re a good guy, so I guess we’re doing this’ or something like that--”

“Unlock the door?”

“Fair enough.”

The rest of Abbi’s day passed so normally that she managed to pretend that nothing had happened, right up until she walked in the door and saw her mom. She looked like she was having a good, calm day. Not the kind of day where she needed to stress out about something that momentous and world-changing. Abbi did her best to deflect questions, made them leftovers from the day before, and checked to be sure that her mom had taken all the pills she needed to before heading to her room to study up on the next case she’d be working on.

“Something happened today, didn’t it?”

Abbi looked up to see her mom in her doorway. “What makes you say that?” she asked, putting a bookmark in the tome she’d been reading.

“You usually relax when you come home. You take off the masks you had to wear to get through the day. Today, you’re still wearing them.”

“Something so bizarre happened today that I’m still processing it. I’ll tell you when I figure it out, okay?” Abbi confessed.

“Well, don’t wait too long. Clock’s ticking!” Demi Carson said, laying a dramatic wrist on her own forehead.

“You know, some mothers take a diagnosis like yours seriously, just saying,” Abbi laughed. Her mother had never taken anything seriously in her life, not if she could help it. That didn’t mean she was being irresponsible about it, just irreverent. It was equal parts frustrating and uplifting, depending on the day. The jury was out for how today was going to feel. They had a few weeks before the scan to see if her current treatment was effective. Even if it was, Abbi was grateful she’d moved back in to care for her, despite the rather dramatic role-reversals that happened between them sometimes.

“Some mothers never took their children out of the country. Some mothers haven’t even tried marijuana. Some mothers have the decency to move to the suburbs when they get old. I’m not some mothers.”

“You are not old, go to bed.”

“Yes, dear.”

Next chapter, Tony wages an all-out war to persuade Abbi that she should accept him as her soulmate.

#tony stark #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark x oc #tony stark x original character #iron man fanfiction #iron man #iron man x oc #iron man x original character #mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #tony stark imagine #ocfairygodmother #fyeahsuperverseocs #soulmate au #romance

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honey-oak · 1 year

Text

Can I stay with you?

Serizawa Katsuya x Reader

Genre: FLUFF Tropes: Only (1) bed

Summary: Your power goes out during a cold front and you ask to stay at Serizawa’s for the night.

Word Count: ~2.7K

AO3 Link

Fic below :)

A full body shiver rustled you out of your sleep, you tossed yourself over in your bed, and tried to burrow deeper into the blankets before you realized your room was ice cold. You squinted through the pitch blackness of the room trying to see the alarm clock on your dresser that usually had a faint glow, to see the time, but when its light was absent you realized the power was out… and so was your heat. You let out a long groan and pulled the blankets over your head. A nasty cold front was coming through Seasoning City, and this was absolutely no time to be enduring a night without heat. You quickly grabbed your phone off your nightstand looking for an email from your apartment management or your electric company regarding the power.

ETA for power restoration…. 12pm. It was midnight. You were not going to last twelve hours shivering in this apartment and you were certainly not going to get a wink of sleep. You settled on calling your closest friend in walking distance to see if you could spend the night. You didn’t want to spend any more time out in the cold than strictly necessary. Serizawa and you had gotten closer recently and you had a feeling that he would be happy to host, or at least he wouldn’t turn down someone in need. You were freezing your butt off and were already dialing his number.

“H-Hello?” A gruff voice answered quickly on the other line.

“Hey. Serizawa, do you have power?” You quickly asked jumping right into the point, “Oh. Wait, did I wake you up?”

“Hm? Are you okay? I have power.” He replied quickly, concern apparent in his voice.

“My place lost power and I won’t have heat until tomorrow afternoon. And with this weather we are having..” You rambled on, already packing a bag of toiletries and a spare change of clothes, your teeth were chattering from leaving the small warmth of your bed, “I was wondering if maybe I could come stay with you for the night? It’s so cold here I can’t sleep.”

“Of course!” Serizawa said softly. You hear faint rustling noises on the other end of the line, that sounded like he was getting out of bed. So you had woken him up.

“Ok! Great, I’m just grabbing some things and I’ll head right over.” You confirmed breathing a sigh of relief. Serizawa was always such a dependable person. Not to mention that you definitely had a huge crush on him, but that was neither here nor there. You were just about to sleep over his house because your power was out during a cold front, you were not going to make this weird. At all.

As soon as the phone call ended Serizawa started to blink away what was left of his sleep. Taking in the full consequences of his actions. He looked around his small apartment and realized… ‘I only have one bed’. He had definitely read too much manga for this.

—

By the time you knocked on his door, your cheeks were slightly wind burnt from the cold and your nose felt like it was downright frozen. As soon as Serizawa saw you he was ushering you inside. He had you wrapped in a blanket and sitting in his living area while he was making you tea as soon as your shoes and coat were off to warm you up. You watched him, taking a second to appreciate how cute he looked in his gray sweatpants and loose T-shirt. It was rare that you got to see Serizawa in casual clothes, the two of you usually caught up after he had gotten off work or out of night class, so this was an odd treat for you. He almost looked out of place to you, dressed so relaxed but it was nice to see another side of him. You tried not to let your eyes linger too much on him but the sweatpants left too little to the imagination.

“So,” you cleared your throat to get his attention, needing conversation to distract yourself from your mind wandering where, frankly it shouldn’t be, “Thank you so much for letting me crash here. I appreciate it so much.”

He glanced back at you, giving you an uneasy smile, “Y-yeah of course.” He said, running his hand against the back of his neck, “You shouldn’t have to stay in the cold all night.”

“Serizawa,” Your eyes bore into him as you could tell something was wrong. You two were close enough by now that you had come to pick up on his nervous habits, “What’s wrong?”

He brought both cups of tea over and set them on the table. He sat across from you but did not make eye contact, instead he was fixed on looking at a random point on the floor.

“I— I only have one futon!” He exclaimed quickly, his eyes were darting around the room, looking anywhere and everywhere except at you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about it until we had already gotten off the phone.”

After he had confessed alleged crimes, he finally looked back at you, his face completely red. You could tell that Serizawa was extremely nervous about your reaction. His flustered reaction was adorable to you though and you couldn’t hold back a small giggle.

“Oh, Serizawa!” You said between a laugh, glancing over at his futon. You both could fit on there comfortably…. probably. “I don’t care, I don’t mind sharing, as long as you’re okay with it.”

“Y-you’re sure you’re comfortable with it?” He looked at you anxiously, his fingers twisting together, a look of slight guilt present on his face, “I don’t want to overstep. I can always just sleep on the ground!”

Your eyes narrowed at his suggestion of him sleeping on the hard ground of his apartment. You couldn’t say you were entirely prepared to arrive at Serizawa’s house and spend the night snuggled up in the same bed with him. The idea of spending the night in his house and having the man that you had feelings for possibly see you in an unflattering light was already unnerving enough, but to be in the same bed was definitely throwing you for a loop. At the same time, the prospect of being able to be closer to him was enticing all the same and you could feel your heart almost hammering out of your chest with nerves at the thought of being pressed against him trying to accommodate yourselves into that futon. If anything, it would be nice and toasty and you were still feeling chilled.

“You are not sleeping on the floor, Serizawa. That is final. Are you sure you’re comfortable with it? If anything I’d be the one overstepping because I am at your house,” You assured him in a calm and confident tone, faking it until you made it, “I am comfortable with it but only if you are as well.”

Serizawa visibly relaxed at your words, you could see some of the tension release from his shoulders as he leaned back slightly in resignation. His fingers relaxed in his lap and he took a deep exhale before he replied softly, “It’s fine. We are friends. It will be like a sleepover. Well, not that I had any of those.”

“Right! Exactly like a sleepover,” You quickly assured, stretching your arms over your head, yawning for exaggeration, “Well, I am not sure about you but I am beat. I know I woke you up. Let’s get this show on the road and get to bed. What do you say, Seri?”

“Hm?”, a small noise came from his throat as he was clearing the table of your teas as you were talking. Serizawa looked flustered and caught off guard at your sudden introduction of a nickname. Your intention was to make him feel more comfortable and closer, in a friendly way, naturally.

A moment passed and he finally replied quickly and loudly, scrubbing the small cups clean, “Y-Yes, I am quite tired.” You could see the tips of his ears were bright red.

Well, that could have gone over better, you thought to yourself. Serizawa opted to let it go so you would as well. Once he finished cleaning up, the two of you made your way over to his futon, both leering down at it with trepidation. You sure weren’t going to be the one to make the first move to get in. It wasn’t your bed. You looked over at Serizawa, and gave him an encouraging smile.

“Well, after you!” You cooed, holding your arm gesturing at the futon below the two of you. Trying to look as nonchalant about everything as you could. Below the surface you could feel your heart hammering in your chest and a bubble of nerves making their way through your body. You knew there was no way that Serizawa was any way better off than you. Even on a good day, he would get flustered by little things when you were around. You would normally chalk that up to the time he spent away from society but you considered this a universally nerve-wracking experience.

“R-Right!” He stammered as he gingerly knelt down and got under the blankets. He positioned himself on his back, stiff as a board. He had the blankets pulled up to his neck so that only his head was visible. His facial expression was uneasy, his mouth pressed into a firm line and his eyebrows knit tight together. You wondered briefly if Serizawa was even going to be able to fall back asleep at all, or if the two of you were doomed to just lay in excruciating silence for the remainder of the night.

You hesitated for a moment more before you shakily slid in next to him. You opted to lay on your side with your back turned to him, to save yourself the embarrassment of him seeing your flustered expression. You took a deep inhale through your nose and let out a long exhale, that was really more like a silent scream, towards the pillow trying to release the tension you were feeling. Thankful that the position you gave yourself at least allotted you some semblance of privacy for that at least. Under the blanket, you became hyper aware of the body heat radiating off of Serizawa, the man was like a six foot tall space heater. It helped you relax and want to scoot closer to the warmth, the blanket wasn’t necessarily the best size for two people but you had a feeling that he had given you more than half of it. You craned your neck back to look at him and your suspicion was confirmed when you saw that the blanket hardly reached his far shoulder.

He must have felt you shuffling around because with his eyes still closed, he questioned, “Are you comfortable?”

You scooted closer to him, closing the gap between your bodies, at this point not caring about your dignity, and pushed more of the blanket towards him, “Here. You’re not even covered by the blanket, Serizawa. I appreciate you wanting me to be comfortable but not at your own expense.”

“Goodnight, Serizawa” You whispered, turning back around, sinking back into the pillow.

“Goodnight,” He whispered back, accepting the blanket and you could feel him try to relax behind you. You closed your eyes and attempted to sleep, staying awake for who-knows-how-long, until you were aware of Serizawa’s deep, slow breathing a sure sign that he had finally drifted off to sleep. A shaky exhale of relief left your lips, you were thankful that at least one of you was able to relax enough to fall asleep. You tried to clear your mind of any swirling thoughts you were having about the bizarre situation and tried to just focus on relaxing your body, enjoying finally being enveloped in warmth compared to your frozen apartment. After a while your eyelids started to feel heavy and you were able to drift off to sleep as well.

—--

When you opened your eyes the next morning, you were surprised how well rested you felt. Your first thought was that you were so cozy, wrapped up in this weighted blanket, you didn’t even remember buying one of these– wait, that is NOT a weighted blanket and this is not your house. Your eyes fully opened and you took a sharp inhale in, assessing your sleeping position. Serizawa had, at some point during the night, turned on his side to spoon you and now was halfway on top of you, his leg flung over yours, effectively pinning you to the futon. Two firm arms held you flush against his chest, one under your neck that had replaced your pillow and the other snaked around your waist. You felt heat rise to your cheeks at the realization of the compromising position that you had just apparently spent the night sleeping in with your crush. You had to admit that part of you was relishing the feeling of being cuddled up against him. It felt safe, secure, and warm. It definitely lost out to the part of you that was anxious about the aftermath of him waking up because you knew deep down that this was not a conscious Serizawa move. You had a crush on him for months and you had some suspicions that it was mutual, but he hadn’t even gone as far to hold your hand, let alone throw his entire body on you.

You were berating yourself for throwing all caution to the wind and tossing yourself into this position, well maybe not this exact position. You were not equipped to deal with this level of nerves early in the morning. As if sensing your pounding heart rate, Serizawa started to stir behind you. His hand that was on your waist started to slide toward your chest as he slowly started to stretch out, you quickly made a b-line to grasp his wrist. You may have grasped him a little too firmly out of self-preservation of what was left of your dignity because Serizawa’s body suddenly jolted and he took a sharp inhale. He pulled his wrist back from your hand quickly in surprise.

“I-I.. Oh.. Umm..” He stammered, pulling his body off of you, quickly retreating to the other end of the futon. He pulled his knees to his chest, a deep blush present across his cheeks, “I am so sorry. I.. I normally sleep with a body pillow and.. I am so sorry.”

You exhaled a puff of air before starting to laugh in earnest. Serizawa looked back at you with clear confusion, expecting you to be offended by his behavior.

“Honestly,” you said between laughs, looking up at him from your place on the futon smiling, ��It was pretty comfortable,” you felt a pit in your stomach forming with anxiety before you got the courage to spit the next words out, “I.. I wouldn’t mind cuddling some more.”

He looked at you with a wobbly grin on his face and slowly let go of his knees, making his way back under the covers with you, “I.. Yes, I would like that too.”

This time you laid facing each other, your face pressed into his chest, his arms wrapped around you with one of your arms slung around his waist. You were thankful to have the contact back and be buried back against the warmth of his body. Sharing this calm, tender moment with each other in the morning felt a lot more intimate for two people that were just friends and gave you the confidence to finally say what you had been wanting to tell Serizawa for a long time.

“Hey Serizawa,” You said, peeking your face up from his chest, “I.. really like you.”

His arms wrapped tighter around your waist and he pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head, “I like you too.”

#serizawa x reader #serizawa katsuya x reader #serizawa x you #mp100 reader insert #trying something different and not just posting the link- i'm not sure how I feel about it #i've just been posting the ao3 links because i'm lazy but kadjdlsj #I had to repent for my sins of my serizawa filth so here is some FLUFF #gail writes #my writing #it’s giving word vomit rn I’m sorry

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pb-dot · 6 months

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Spooktober Sunday Special: The Clockwork Monster V

Halloween is right around the corner, and I'm finishing off the Clockwork Monster for now. Jake and 13 go on the lam, and a twist of sorts presents itself.

16.09.552 Recovered from Site B after the incident I’ve had the opportunity to confirm the date since my last entry. Tempted as I am to try to correct the dating on my previous entries, I know it’d be mostly guesswork. Besides, I seem to have left my diary note behind when we left the coal cellar. I hope this mistake has not cost us our freedom. I hope there is no sensitive info for me to redact in the first place, but in hindsight, I realize I should have checked.

From what little 13 told me, he has been dodging a member of his organization, well I suppose former organization at this point, but she has been sniffing out his trail ever since. He and two of his fellow modified people, One and Two, were sent by their boss (ruler or religious head?) to capture me for this reason or another. I personally suspect it is because my work on clockwork limbs is relevant to their interests in some way, but 13 has been unable to confirm this. One had stalked me for an extended period of time in preparation, and the plan was for Two and 13 to move in to snatch me on the 8th.

13, however, had other ideas. He hasn’t said much about it other than that he didn’t want to stay with his organization any longer, and that he had temporarily disabled Two, kidnapped me ahead of schedule, and made sure to keep me somewhere hidden. I have no idea what caused the damage I repaired, but his ex-colleagues remain my main suspects. It is, for example, quite possible that One made his escape difficult after dealing with Two, but without knowing her abilities and strengths it is hard to determine for sure.

The night grows dark, and my head grows weary from exertion. I’ll get to discussing our escape and my plans on the morrow.

17.09.552 Recovered from Site B after the incident Our new hideout is considerably less cramped than it was upon first viewing. The sunlight and draft in the abandoned apiary make waking up here a mite shocking, as I had grown accustomed to the darkness of the cellar and we arrived here by moonlight. Apparently, buildings such as these small towers were built in an attempt to vivify the town’s dying greenery by the presence of a large population of domesticated bees, but needless to say, they’ve been empty for just about as long as I have been alive.

After sunset yesterday, 13 had unlocked the door to the coal cellar he had been keeping me. As I had suspected, it connected to one of the collapsing manors of the old Noble Quarter. The huge building was no doubt owned by someone on paper, but inhabited only by dust and decay. There were many of those after the nobility that knew sense sold off their assets and fled the country while there was still a country to flee in the later days of The Wars. The Spire owned most of them now, but seeing as restoring them was expensive and most everyone who could afford it lived comfortably in the spire itself anyway, the houses mostly just got lost to entropy until they could be torn down for cheap.

The Noble Quarter was eerily quiet as we left for the city proper. It was about at this point I realized that I thought about 13 and me as “we,” and the thought of ditching him and making a run for it just didn’t occur to me anymore. He could be lying about any number of the things he has told me, but for better or worse I believe him because - Entry ends suddenly with signs of being rushed by outside factors, see next entry.

17.09.552 (later) Recovered from Site B after the incident We couldn’t stay at the apiary. Two found us, and although I barely got a look at her as she scaled the walls of the little tower, climbing like half a spider might, I now understand why 13 had no desire to remain in her company. While the modifications done to 13 are considerable, there’s a certain level of effort put into making him move like a human. Two, on the other hand, have been outfitted with entirely clockwork-powered joints for the elbows and knees, with the limbs themselves being stripped to the bone. Hell, the way she climbed, it looked like her joints had been replaced entirely by mechanical ones, as she was both double-jointed, and much faster than a human could be. 13 spotted her a second later than me, and we wasted no time fleeing into the crowds. I couldn’t see her, but I’m sure somehow that One was also present somewhere in the area.

After the many days of isolation and skulking by night, it was chaotic and scary to be back in the crowded bustle of the city. If it was unusual and stressful for me, though, I can only imagine how scary it was for 13, who was out among “regular people” without his cloak for what must’ve been the first time. At one point he grabbed my hand, and I held on for dear life as I dodged and ducked our way through the lunchtime rush. I had no idea if Two had any compunctions about following us through the crowd, but a staccato of clacking from the roof somewhere over us hinted that she probably chose to pursue us that way.

While I’m no canny street urchin, I will say I am good at moving through crowds and navigating the city. It didn’t take us long to lose the clacking that I took to understand as the sound of Two’s pursuit, although it is quite possible we were still followed in silence.

I’m writing these words from our current hideout, a room in a semi-reputable inn in the Entertainment District. It’s noisy and it smells like stale beer in here, but the proprietor seemed like a decent enough sort. He may not be above selling us out to our pursuers, but he didn’t seem bright enough to connect the dots just yet.

13 is sleeping. After our mad dash through the city, he seemed disproportionately tired, so I let him take the first shift in the room’s one admittedly decent bed. If I can find the peace in my soul to get some sleeping done, the couch’ll have to do for me.

Peace in my soul does seem unlikely though, as I am starting to realize this problem is bigger than I assumed. 13 may not want to carry out his assigned task, but his former allies seem to have no problem with the parameters of the mission. I can’t return home, and I can’t return to my place of employ. My life as I know it is, effectively, forfeit. I guess 13 and me have that in common now.

18.09.552 (morning) Recovered from Site B after the incident To whoever may read this: My name is Jake, former Journeyman at Barker Automatics. For reasons I still don’t fully understand, I have been targeted by an organization that implants complex clockwork gadgets in human subjects to enhance their abilities. I believe it is my experience with clockwork limbs that has brought me to the attention of this organization as my expertise should allow me to eventually repair and replicate the modifications in 13.

My savior turned out to be one of my would-be captors who decided to take this chance to flee from his fellow modified in the hope that I would know or be able to learn how to maintain his clockwork parts. He has since introduced himself as Adrian, and let me know the number tattooed on his forehead is his production number.

Both Adrian and I know that we can’t hide out where we now hide forever. Our pursuers are clever, and there’s little doubt in my mind they’ll sniff us out before long. Adrian and I have come up with a plan of sorts, but for it to succeed we’ll need to visit my former workplace to secure my closing wages and a few personal effects. There is a good chance our pursuers will attempt to stop us, and there is every chance they’ll succeed, but I know in my heart that if it comes to that, we’ll make them fight for it. Adrian has asked me to promise to kill him if it looks like Two and One are going to bring him back in, and I can only be thankful that he didn’t press the issue, as I still don’t know if I’m capable of such a thing. I will say his intensity on the matter makes for a compelling argument.

If we succeed in securing my resources we will endeavor to The text ends suddenly here, as the remains of the pages were ripped out, possibly by 13.

Post Script I bring to you now this incomplete record of events, Oh Creator. It is unfortunate that I was not able to bring you the young clockmaker and your wayward creation as you have asked of me, but I beg your forgiveness in the matter as I am but a poor servant of your brilliantness. It is still not known to me whether Two is still alive, as she has not made her appointed check-ins since moving out on a lead to intercept Adrian 13 and the clockmaker. She may be dead, but equally possible that she is not, as she is mercurial even on her best days.

In my efforts to track down my quarry, I found 13’s former hiding spaces, the coal cellar, and the room in The Pelian Lady, Site A, and B, respectively. Apart from the documents I have attached, as whole and unmodified as they could be found, there was little trace to be found of 13 and Jake. I was unable to confirm the location of the disused sky-apiary mentioned in earlier entries, but I maintain my watch and vigil after it all the same.

While I am tempted to indulge in speculation, I know it to be folly in the face of such a mind as yours, and shall do no such thing. With that said, I personally suspect Jake may have tried securing charter on a ship heading towards Pelia or one of the former colonies. It is also possible that he and 13 are trying to make their way out of the city and try their luck with the Farmer Lords. With your blessing, I will follow these leads such as they are and attempt to secure that which you so desperately desire.

With Equal Loyalty and Admiration Your Slave One

Tag List @ettawritesnstudies @mrbexwrites @teacupsandstarlight @anonymousfoz @wrenofthewords @sm-writes-chaos @dyrewrites @owlsandwich @olive-riggzey @athenswrites @kingkendrick7 @cat-esper

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#writing #hearts in clockwork #horror au #the clockwork monster #the clockwork boy

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sapphireginger · 9 months

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Steter Week 2023

Day #2: Mistaken Identities

Summary:

Stiles was a writer, having obtained a master’s degree in creative writing and literature. For the last two years he had been writing a novel. Now after several months of making sure it was perfect, he took his work to a publisher.

@steterweek

However, he barely got started with his presentation when he was being escorted from the premises by security. The head honchos at the Silver Spring Inc. Publishing Company threatened to sue him for copyright infringement, theft, fraud and many more if he dared to show his face there again. Stiles didn’t fight them on it, feeling completely lost and numb. He didn’t understand how he could be charged with such things when it was his work.

It was when Stiles was walking back to his apartment from the publishing company that he came upon a display at the local bookstore. There, in the front window, sat his book titled, He Ignited My Spark under the pen name, Mischief Managed. Stiles’s eyes welled with tears of frustration. It hurt him deeply to see the name. Mischief had been his mother’s nickname for him and well Stiles also adored Harry Potter. Now, both of those things felt tainted and he hated it.

It was now abundantly clear that Stiles’s book had been stolen and someone was reaping the benefits of his hard work. Not only that, but they used a name that people would believe belonged to Stiles. He hated to think that someone close to him might’ve been the one to do this, might’ve been the one to betray him.

Next, he checked online and found out that the book, his book, had become the number one bestseller in the world and was being displayed in the front windows of over a hundred stores across the world. It even had the top spot on the New York Times Bestseller List which had always been one of Stiles’s dream. That made this all the more heartbreaking for him.

After grabbing the bare necessities from his apartment, Stiles quickly drove home to see his husband, Peter. They lived in a country home but Stiles had been staying in the city apartment the month leading up to his presentation to Silver Spring Inc.

When he pulled into their driveway, Stiles saw that some of his friends had texted him and others had messaged him on social media. His phone was blowing up, each notification another chip against his armor and another slash of pain to his heart. Everyone was congratulating him, thinking he’d chosen a pen name.

Red_Queen: Congratulations Stiles! What do you say to a shopping trip just us two? You’ll have interviews no doubt and it’ll be good to get you looking the part. 💋

Catwoman: Hey Batman! Look at you go! Clever name! I approve! We’re having an HP movie marathon for our next hangout!

Scarf-aholic: Hey man! Nice job on your book! I get an autographed copy right? Did you put your favorite person in it? Aka me?

Thumper: I am never wrong but apparently this time I was. So, congrats on the NYT Bestseller Bambi! We have to celebrate. Drinks are on me okay? 😉

The more Stiles read, the more depressed and hurt he became. He turned off his Jeep and headed inside, not even caring that he ended up soaked by the sudden rain. It just added to his already terrible day.

Peter was in their kitchen when Stiles arrived home. When the wolf went to greet his husband, he noticed right away something was wrong. However, before ye could ask about it Stiles silenced him with a kiss, plastered on a small smile and turned away from the wolf.

Stiles had no energy to speak, not even to his husband. He was hurt and even more so because no one had realized the book wasn’t Stiles. The amber eyed man headed to the bathroom to shower and tried to forget for tonight that his work had been stolen.

Peter was one of the smartest people alive and it didn’t take much to figure out what had happened. What was rage inducing was that he was the only one who had figured it out.

When he realized what had happened, Peter was pissed. His mate had gone to bed without eating supper, had curled into a small ball in the middle of their bed and was wearing Peter’s clothes. The sight was setting off all of Peter’s protective instincts.

With a snarl, Peter paced back and forth in the hallway just outside their bedroom door. His gums were itching and his claws kept repeatedly sheathing and unsheathing.

After a few moments, the wolf halted his movements and his mouth stretched into a malicious smirk. Oh, Peter knew exactly what he was going to do. He kissed his mate’s forehead and scented him. Then he headed to his office and shut the door firmly.

It looked like it was time for the alpha to revisit his little black book and his little red book. No one who made his mate cry deserved to breathe let alone have all the accolades that were rightfully Stiles’s. Oh, yes. Peter would fix this and he would do it now.

#stiles stilinski #teen wolf #peter hale #angst #steter #steter week 2023 #steter week #day two: mistaken identities #emotionally hurt stiles stilinski #author stiles stilinski #alpha peter hale #protective peter hale #morally ambiguous peter hale

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distant-velleity · 7 months

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and there's nowhere to run

Summary: Synop City is best viewed at night. That’s when rats like himself sneak about.

Warnings: off-screen death??? i guess???? Axel is his own warning tbh.

Pairings: none

Word count: 749

A/N: For "bounty on their head." Oh, Axel, my goofiest little goober. My terrorist Pied Piper of Hameln. How I hate you.

Some days, Axel misses being able to freely walk the streets of the Uppercity and Lowercity. Being able to bask in the daylight and appreciation of passersby, chatting and playing music, socializing and collecting humble donations in a pouch to save for later. Even if all of his relationships were one-sided and fake, it did feel like…

(Like he had somewhere to belong, for once?)

…Yeah, a little. It felt good. Even if he belongs in Umbra, he could pretend—for just a little—that he was a normal guy with normal friends in the normal Library World.

But the world isn’t so simple, and breaking the chains of fate waits for no man. Apparently, a doctor and detective in the making waits for no man to sniff out clues about Axel’s identity either. So it’s not “Axel the friendly and charismatic street musician” anymore, it’s “Axel the notorious manipulator and assassin” now.

Which is fine. Axel doesn’t need positive public favor or personal opinions to free everyone and give them the happy endings they don’t seem to deserve or want.

As much as he wants to grumble to himself under his breath right now, it’s going to have to wait until he’s back at the base—Synop City surveillance gets even heavier at night, has been like that ever since his big jailbreak, so he can’t risk his voice being heard or anything as he slips from alleyway to alleyway following tonight’s target on their way home.

Stupid Uppercity residents, Axel thinks, glaring at the wealthy woman vainly stopping to adjust her hair in the middle of the sidewalk. Walking around alone at night? Just because you think no one’s around doesn’t mean there aren’t monsters lurking in the shadows.

The “WANTED” poster on the digital bulletin board across the street, displaying Axel’s prison headshot and a sizable amount of money for him dead or alive, flickers at steady intervals.

…Like me.

His target picks up her briefcase and starts walking again, heels clacking loudly in the silence of the night. Axel resists the urge to scoff.

Okay, lady. We’ll see where your inability to call a chauffeur gets you.

The one and only Witch Queen is relaxing from a full day’s work of scheming in her personal office/living room, legs draped over the armrest of her plush swivel chair. A nail file, manipulated by magic, works at giving her a manicure while she watches some random late-night TV show on a mirror.

“I’ve completed my mission,” Axel says as he walks in, swiping fresh blood off his cheek with the back of his hand. It’s convenient—magic mirrors make transportation so fast, the blood doesn’t even have time to dry. “The CEO of that company investing in 7D? She’s dead.”

His queen hums in approval. “And you left no traces behind, I assume.”

“None.”

“Perfect.” Witch Queen’s file switches to the other hand. “In that case, I’m out of other assignments to give you for the next few days.”

Axel takes that as an opportunity to slump onto one of the couches, pulling out a cloth and wiping the excess blood off of his knives. “That’s just on paper, right?” he asks casually. “You know I don’t have a lot to do in my free time nowadays. Just say the name and I can take care of it.”

Witch Queen looks over her shoulder to smirk at him. “Relax. It’s better if you wait and we lure the Library World into a sense of security.”

Typical, then. Axel laughs with only a fraction of forced amusement. “Can I expect to have someone new to tail in a few days, then?”

“If you don’t cause any trouble, yes.”

“You know me, WQ. I try my best not to cause trouble most of the time.” Axel stands up and winks at her with a two-fingered salute as he starts to walk out. “See you. Tell me how that TV show went once you’re done.”

Witch Queen doesn’t snort, but it feels like a near thing. “I trust you know to keep your head low, too,” she calls after him.

“Uh-huh.”

As he leaves, Axel thinks about the glaring block letters and numbers that hang over his mugshot every corner he turns in Synop City. Thinks of the H.U.N.N.T. marksmen that are after his head but haven’t made their move yet. Thinks of the “friends” who were most affected by his downfall.

...Yeah. Keep my head low. Got it.

#kai’s writing #smash legends #smash legends oc #oc #axel #bad things happen bingo #everythings wrong with this man

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foxghost · 1 year

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Joyful Reunion

Translator: foxghost @foxghost tumblr/ko-fi1 Beta: meet-me-in-oblivion @meet-me-in-oblivion tumblr Original by 非天夜翔 Fei Tian Ye Xiang Masterpost | Characters, Maps & Other Reference Index

Book 5, Chapter 50 (Part 2)

Wu Du has “displeased” written all over his face as he stares at the Black Armours guard that had delivered the memorials. He then turns to the one standing outside the keep watch, and at the one sweeping up leaves in the garden … Xie You had swapped out all of the eunuchs with soldiers from Black Armours. And those assigned to serve in the palace are all eight feet tall, well-built, handsome young men.

In the distant past, Great Chen used to have a Public Officer post, which was later merged with the Black Armours. Those given this role are all soldiers that need to take orders from the imperial family, so every single one is tall and handsome, but also exceedingly self-disciplined, unfrivolous, and discreet in both speech and manner. All of them have been assigned to serve the Eastern Palace now. He wonders what Xie You means by this.

“Get out, the lot of you!” Wu Du’s temper flares whenever he sees them. He ponders if he should find some excuse to poison them all.

“What are you always blowing up at the guards for?” Duan Ling asks.

Wu Du can only stop talking, frowning all the while. Seeing him like this, Duan Ling can only set his own sadness aside and asks, “What is it now?”

Wu Du says, “I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?”

Wu Du doesn’t say anything back, and Duan Ling’s eyes are red-rimmed in an instant. “What happened? Why did you say that?”

When he realises that Duan Ling is already on the verge of tears, Wu Du says hurriedly, “It’s nothing, I just have some work to do that’s all. I’ll be back in a quarter of an hour.”

“Oh, then you go ahead. What do you have to do?”

“Nothing much. I’m just filling a prescription for your health.”

Duan Ling nods. Wu Du turns to go, sighing as he does so. He spends ages in the covered gallery staring at the birds, looking completely bored.

When any guard, eunuch, or maid passes by, they all bow at Wu Du. Wu Du is basically the most rapidly promoted person since the founding of Great Chen; let alone that he’s jumped from military officer to civil official, he’s also leapt to the post of Grand Preceptor of the Heir Apparent within three years — from rankless to first rank proper. Even prodigies who make it to the top three in the civil exams don’t possess this sort of professional fortune.

After standing for a while, Wu Du returns to keep Duan Ling company while he appends memorials. Duan Ling looks at Wu Du, asking for water one moment, and asking him to get books for him the next. Wu Du thus gets up and lets Duan Ling order him around.

When evening comes, Wu Du brings Duan Ling over to Li Yanqiu’s for dinner. While Duan Ling is having dinner, Wu Du is in a seat nearby so he can wait on him, and Zheng Yan remains by their side. Yao Fu and Fifth Princess are there as well. They chat about this and that, but they all know that after Lang Junxia died, Duan Ling still hasn’t recovered.

Li Xiao tries to console him several times, but each attempt is interrupted by Yao Fu’s jests.

“My son, what do you plan to do with Chang Liujun?” Li Xiao says at last.

After all, Chang Liujun used to be a retainer of Mu Kuangda, so no matter how much he displays his loyalty, everyone is going to worry about bringing him into the palace as part of its staff. It won’t be appropriate to leave him to live in the city either.

“He’s been with Mu Qing this whole time,” Duan Ling says.

“We can’t keep any of the Mus around,” Li Xiao says. “It would inevitably lead to trouble.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Li Yanqiu says. “What can that kid ever do?”

Li Yanqiu hasn’t interfered with Duan Ling’s plans either. After that day, he’s been told that Duan Ling is keeping Mu Qing under house arrest in the palace hall where Mu Jinzhi used to live, with both guards to watch him and Chang Liujun there to keep him company, so Li Yanqiu hasn’t asked him about anything else.

At any rate, those who ought to die are already dead, so he’s not worried that Mu Qing could cause any harm.

“Also,” Li Xiao says, “just send that bunch of barbarians home already. They’ll cause nothing but trouble if you keep them here too long. It’s getting cold, so your uncle and I should start making our way home.”

Duan Ling nods. He knows that Li Xiao is really saying this for Li Yanqiu.

Li Yanqiu says, “Stay here for the Spring Festival before you go home.”

Yao Fu stretches. “There’ll be plenty more to do come spring. I’m afraid there may be war again — we should keep our guard up.”

“There won’t be,” Duan Ling says. “Batu and I made a three-year pact.”

“Not going to war would be best, of course,” Li Xiao says.

After dinner, Duan Ling analyses the current state of the world for a short while, his mood recovering somewhat, and returns to the Eastern palace through the imperial gardens with Wu Du. The new palace has been re-renovated; it’s well-lit and very warm. As a trusted advisor of the Eastern Palace, Fei Hongde is temporarily staying in the palace. They’ll have to start recruiting retainers soon.

There are still a lot of people he has to see. At night, Duan Ling lies in bed, tossing and turning. When he recalls Lang Junxia, he can’t help but feel sad again.

He was planning to pardon him. Why did things have to turn out this way? That day, on the dais, he’d already prepared everything. All he had to do was say it. A ruler does not just, so Li Yanqiu definitely wouldn’t have contradicted him.

As soon as they come back, Wu Du takes off his warrior’s robe and changes into rogue’s blacks.

“Where are you going?” Duan Ling asks.

“I’m going out for a bit,” Wu Du fastens his belt and asks, “you wanna come?”

Duan Ling looks at him curiously.

Wu Du helps Duan Ling put on his boots and wraps a fur-lined coat around him. Walking out of the room holding Duan Ling’s hand, he picks him up sideways and leaps onto the roof.

It is late autumn, and gradually growing cooler. Wu Du leaps over the Hall of Supreme Harmony, and leading Duan Ling by the hand, takes him into the palace hall along the western edge of the palace compound, the site of the original Eastern Palace, finally landing in a courtyard.

The lamps in the room are already lit. A cold wind sends the muslin curtain fluttering. There is a coffin in the middle of the room.

Duan Ling stands there silently.

This is Lang Junxia’s funeral hall. Wu Du lets out a long breath. He stands before the coffin with his arms crossed, head cocked to stare at that coffin.

“What are you doing?” Duan Ling wants to stop Wu Du from doing whatever he’s about to do, but Wu Du has already drawn the Lieguangjian. He chops through the coffin’s tenon and pushes the lid aside, gesturing for Duan Ling to look.

Inside Lang Junxia’s coffin lies a block of wood and a Qingfengjian.

Duan Ling stares at it in silent shock.

“He’s not dead?!” He says, stunned.

“Shh.” Frowning, Wu Du takes the Qingfengjian out of the coffin and says, “This belongs to the White Tiger Hall. I must retrieve it.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” Duan Ling says, astonished.

“I was only guessing. When His Majesty asked me for the poison, he asked for two doses.”

Duan Ling is speechless.

Duan Ling just finds his scalp tingling with numbness, and for a moment he’s not sure if he’s happy or sad. The happy part is that Lang Junxia isn’t dead! The sad part is that Lang Junxia had played him for a fool again, and he can’t help but find that the flames of his fury are burning high enough to reach the sky.

Wu Du says, “He’s not dead. I knew it. So, what now? You don’t have to look so sad all the time anymore, right?”

Duan Ling may be angry, but he starts smiling anyway. He replies, “Yeah.”

Wu Du pushes the coffin lid back into place. “Let’s go.”

Duan Ling turns back to give the coffin one last glance before catching up to Wu Du, but now it’s Wu Du’s turn to be angry.

“Hey.”

Duan Ling tries to hold Wu Du’s hand, but Wu Du won’t let him. “I’m moving out of the palace.”

“Where are you going to live?” Duan Ling looks rather astounded.

“I’m the Grand Preceptor to the Heir Apparent. I’m a major official, not some bodyguard. How is it proper at all for a major official to live in the palace?”

Duan Ling tugs on his sleeve. “Don’t be mad anymore.”

Wu Du whips his hand away from Duan Ling’s, so Duan Ling starts tugging on his pants instead, and Wu Du almost gets his pants yanked right off. He grabs the waistband to keep them up. The two push and pull their way back to the Eastern Palace. Once they’re there, Wu Du changes out of his rogue’s blacks.

“Don’t be like that,” Duan Ling says gloomily.

Wu Du is changing his clothes and getting ready to leave. Duan Ling says, “You don’t have an official estate outside of the palace, so where are you going to live?”

“In the Chancellor’s estate. I’ll go back to living in that crappy courtyard house.”

Wu Du’s just taken off his rogue’s blacks, and now he’s only wearing his white underclothes. Duan Ling throws himself at him then and wraps his arms around his waist.

“When I die …”

Duan Ling abruptly covers his mouth, not letting him finish that sentence. Then he quickly pulls at his own belt and robes to undress, and soon enough he’s standing in front of Wu Du completely naked.

The young man’s fair skin and comely figure are thus exposed under Wu Du’s gaze, and the visual impact is so substantial that it renders Wu Du momentarily speechless. Duan Ling then keeps burrowing his way into Wu Du’s arms, and Wu Du finds his throat going a bit dry. Whatever they were talking about before is quickly forgotten, and he simply picks Duan Ling up and takes him to bed.

“You just … needs to be taught a lesson or two …”

“Mm … ahh … don’t …”

They’re at it all night, and after Wu Du wins back lost territory, he thinks to himself, good thing that guy ran fast, otherwise I’d have to make that fake death a real death. It’s dawn before Duan Ling falls asleep, exhausted.

Duan Ling is in much better spirits the next day though, back to being cheerful and lively again. Even though Wu Du is disgruntled, he can only console himself. Ah, never mind. There are advantages to him still being alive — it beats having to fight over Duan Ling with a dead man all the time.

“Is Qing’er in there?”

Three days later, Duan Ling arrives at a location outside the palace.

“He’s in there.” Chang Liujun is no longer dressed in rogue’s blacks, and he’s taken off his mask as well. “Do you want to see him or?”

A horse-drawn carriage is stopped in the alleyway. Duan Ling gives it a glance from a distance, but he doesn’t say anything more.

“Never mind.” Duan Ling hands Chang Liujun a stack of banknotes and travelling documents specially approved by the imperial court. “Go ahead and leave. Don’t come back again.”

Chang Liujun unties his sword from his waist and hands it to Wu Du.

“I can’t pass it on to the next generation anymore, so I can only hand it to you.”

Wu Du says, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Then, His Majesty …” Chang Liujun starts to speak but then stops himself.

“Will you tell him the truth?” Duan Ling asks. Chang Liujun looks like he can’t make up his mind. Duan Ling says, “Tell him.”

Chang Liujun heaves a long sigh. He nods heavily, and adds, “You’re not going to see him?”

Duan Ling waves off the suggestion. Chang Liujun seems to finally make up his mind, and he turns around and leaps onto the coachman’s seat to drive the carriage away.

Duan Ling and Wu Du climb the city gate tower to watch them go. On Jiangzhou’s plains, Chang Liujun drives the carriage slowly away from the city.

“Where’s Wang Shan?” Mu Qing opens the curtain and asks, “What’s going on with my dad?”

“Shh. I’ll tell you the whole story later. Do as I say, and don’t ask any more questions. Be a good boy.”

Even though Mu Qing had been under house arrest in the palace and wasn’t privy to any information for almost ten days, he has a vague idea of what’s been going on. His eyes redden all at once.

“Your dad isn’t dead. And I can guarantee that your dad won’t die. Don’t worry.”

“Are you telling the truth? Then what about my aunt?”

“Um … your aunt … that’s hard to say. But anyway, don’t ask any more questions. Be good.”

Mu Qing stares at Chang Liujun in a daze. He says suddenly, “Are you all I have left?”

“Yes, but you still have me,” Chang Liujun says.

The carriage is moving farther and farther away. Duan Ling leans back into Wu Du’s embrace, and they nestle against each other. But when Chang Liujun left, the one on Duan Ling’s mind had been Lang Junxia.

Over the past little while, he’d thought that someone would suddenly appear at his side — even if it was only to leave behind a breeze or a shadow. But he never came.

Regardless, he still has Wu Du. He looks up at Wu Du.

“Are you thinking about your dad again?” Wu Du asks, considering Duan Ling.

“No,” Duan Ling smiles. “I was just thinking of you.”

Duan Ling takes Wu Du’s hand, and they return to the palace together.

This translation is by foxghost, on tumblr and kofi. I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, it was reposted without permission. Do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎

#相見歡 #fei tian ye xiang #joyful reunion #xiang jian huan #fox translates things

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taeyamayang · 2 years

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Congrats on the 1000 followers! You deserve each of them! ❤

Can I request for your Event please?

Character: Satori Tendo

Trope: 6

Exposition/climax: 21

Ending: 4

a/n: hm, yours is an interesting one, anon. this definitely juddered my creative juices but here it goes nothing! oh, and thanks for joining :)

• satori tendo ; human x ghost au

• "You can't always protect me from everything. You can't even leave this house." "Well, would you consider not leaving the house either, for your own safety." "Definitely not."

• major character death

---

your view on life, death, and the line between them changed drastically since you moved in to a prefecture miles away from city, your old home. not because your parent's solution to cut off all your ties from your toxic city-peers worked or that you are finally a self-actualized person ready to take on whatever hurdle they are facingㅡmore like ready to face people and socialize, but rather because of a peculiar someone in your house.

you have found company with a not-so-person person crashing in your place. apparently, you are the only member of the family who can see the supernatural and as it turns out, your new home is haunted... at least by a harmless lanky red-headed boy.

meeting him surprised both you and him. the latter said that he lived with a number of families for almost a decade in this house but none of them can see him. they can sense him which is a bad thing because it drove them away from the house which leaves him alone in this dusty old manor.

and as time goes by you grow fond of him. he has lots of interesting stories about how he lived. he also told you about his hobbies and friends. you learn various things like how he ironically loves the movie ghost and its sountrack unchained melody by the righteous brothers. he told you that he secretly watched it in his room, a few years after its release and was obsessed with it.

and from that point in his life, he never would have guessed that his clock was ticking.

he was murdered at the age of seventeen at the year 1993. unfortunately, up until now he doesn't know who took his life as he was facing the other way when he felt five jabs along his back that happened here at the backyard of the manor. he is sure that he is in good terms with everyone in his school and on top of that he has quite few good friends.

since then he was stuck in this manor, the huge house that used to be his family's. his mother couldn't accept his death so his father was forced to sell the property leaving his ghost behind.

from endless sitting by himself pondering why the hell he is stuck in their house, tendou came up with a theory. he declared to you one afternoon. he thinks that the reason why his soul could not be put to rest is because justice was never served. his death was a cold case. although the case is still considered young, it's about to reach it's 10th year. tendou is is tired of pointlessly existing.

he wants to move on just like everyone else who knew him.

so, with all the effort you can pull off you begin searching for answers. your fascination on crime documentaries play to your advantage in your newest agenda. but tendou is not amused by your idea. to him, the closer you are into finding his killer the greater the risk and danger. he didn't want you to get hurt since unlike him you are alive. you have a future ahead of you.

hence, when he senses that you are leaving the house not for academic purposes. he scrutinizes his eyes at you.

"you can't always protect me from everything. you can't even leave this house." you say as you pack your things inside a small backpack.

"well, would you consider not leaving the house either, for your own safety?" tendou, leaning against the door frame crossing his arms as he glues his eyes at your back.

"definitely not." you quickly respond, hauling the bag over your shoulder.

"hey, let's take this seriously." tendou's voice lowers as he follows you behind.

"i am serious about this!" you turn around to face him only to realize he is a few inch away from you. the cold wisps of air coming from him send shivers down your spine. albeit, he looks at you through his lashes with worried eyes.

"please, i-" as though he was about to reach for your face, he stops mid-air before surrending his arms to the pull of gravity. if he was breathing, he would have dragged a long sigh by now. "i appreciate your effort in helping me find peace but that's just my theory. i don't want you to get hurt. what if i'm wrong? what if you get harmed? what if the killer is two steps ahead of you and they know you're after them? i can't let anything or anyone hurt you."

as you study his dilated eyes, you are tempted to finally give in and just let all your progress go to waste. but you can't, you are one more clue away from knowing who killed him and you can't let this slide. if this is the way to free him, then a day meddling with the devil is worth the shot.

"i'll be home before seven. this will be my last trip, i promise. i have an idea who it is and i just want to confirm my speculations. if anything gets suspicious i will go home right away." you lift your hand as you attempt to hold the side of his face but just as expected, you are welcomed by nothingness. nonethless, you continue. "now, relax those eyebrows and smile at me. i'll be home later, wait for me." with that you leave the manor, turning around for the last time as you give him a smile.

it's past seven and your parents are home from work yet you're still not here. tendou becomes aggitated. you promised and you never break promises. your mother went up to your room, that used to be his, to search for you since you are always at home before they arrive. when she sees that you're not in, she shrugs it off thinking you might be busy with school.

it's quarter to nine in the evening and the main door is still locked shut, unmmoved since your parents' arrival. tendou paces back and forth and your parents begin to worry. your father calls the town police and thankfully they offered to search for you.

ten to eleven in the evening. still, your room is empty. you are not answering to your parents' calls and it's starting to cause them panic. this is unlikely of you and your mother desperately wants to know your whereabouts.

at exactly twelve midnight, raps of knocks are heard from the front door. everyone including tendou shoots up on their feet. your father asks for the person's identity behind the door and a man says it's the police. upon opening the wooden double door, the officer with badges along his chest swallows in air before speaking.

"goodevening ma'am and sir, we have news regarding your child. you might want to sit first because-" the officer was cut off by your mother's scream.

"just say it! i can't wait another second!" your father pulls your mother by her arm, one hand rubbing her back as he calms her down.

"i'm sorry ma'am and sir but your child is found dead of multiple stab wounds in a ditch near the river. the prefecture's head police department is investigating the case." right then, tendou's world shatters into pieces, peering at his hands as he trembles.

what has he done?

masterlist | hq.list | join the event!

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ducky-duckuwu · 1 year

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Yet untitled Hanahaki disease Fenro’s Fanfic

This morning I was being silly and watching a video about hanahaki fanfics in multiple fandoms and I was curious if a ship I like (fenro) had one so I began searching. To my disappointment and surprise there was just a single one in ao3 and from an orphan account.

I crave content and I started to write my own, I´m yet to get my ao3 account and I decided to publish the thing I wrote here!

Warnings: English is not my first language, if something doesn´t make sense sorry.

Something strange was happening around the world that set emergency alarms ringing. No one knows exactly when did the mess began, it all happen so suddenly, unexpected. A patient zero couldn’t be identified thanks to the multiple cases and the numbers grew day by day. It all pointed to a new disease, highly contagious it seemed, as soon enough it turned to a global event. The cause remained yet unknown, the scientist tried his best to gather clues, symptoms, all information to try to figure out this sickness that was starting to takes peoples lives.

All started as a simple cough, a little itching deep in the throat and nothing more. Surely it could be mistaken at first with the starting of a cold but the more time passed the worse it got. The victim would start to feel like something was stuck in his air canal, coughing will intensify and a small object will come out of their mouth: a flower´s petal. Root steams growing within of people’s lungs were suffocating them little by little; small flowers would star to grow. Unreal was the word the first experts used to describe the cases, how could a virus provoke anything like that?

Borders began to close; with no knowledge on its transmission taking precautions was the best thing to do. Trials were carried, unfortunately the cases increased with no apparent reason. The possibility of a surgery to get rid of the roots was being discussed, still no cause of the sickness can be identified. Despite no proof of transmission via ill to ill quarantine was encourage. The world appears to stop.

Duckburg was not exempt from the struggles of the illness. Even the most influent people and scientist of this city were involved. Scrooge and his team, no mattering that their areas of expertise weren´t the best for this problem, tried to aid nonetheless.

The work in the lab followed as normal, taking into consideration some safety measures; the staff was minimal so the risk looked minimal. To Fenton´s fortune the relationship with his boss got a lot better in the last year, he´s optimistic he would survive their time together and conserve most of his sanity, it´s not a secret Gyro´s not the friendliest individual. Manny was also present in the lab, at least they would make each other company to avoid going crazy. Maybe the duck exaggerates, sure he is worried about the illness and wish to do something, he cannot help but worrying about the isolation.

Gyro focused all his attention on the updates. Sure his reputation as a competent person/scientist has been stained due to his past, beside that he would try to put an effort in this situation. He is more than his past failures, who would have thought therapy worked? It didn’t do miracles though; he still had anger issues and problems with his emotions. Because of this coexisting along his workmates sometimes was difficult for him.

When work wasn´t stepping on their toes they could have some free time. Fenton talked a lot certainly, the chicken got used after a while, as annoying as he could be he was –mostly- smart. Eating lunch together became a tradition, Manny didn’t join them often, just the two alone getting their mind out of the tragedy. Other people would describe Gyro as a jerk, overall it was the reason his social life only consisted of his family, mostly his father. However the duck was so patient with him, he wanted to spend time with him, he even admired him, and without a doubt their friendship was begging to flourish (no pun intended).

A year had passed before the catalyst of the disease was discovered. No one could believe that the answer they were looking for came from the wacky inventor Doctor Gyro Gearloose. The scientist discovered a correlation between the emotional distressed provoked by romantic feelings and the start of the symptoms. His hypothesis back up with the psychological information of patients, and unfortunately for him, supported also by his own experience.

Quarantine was executed properly and no other worker on Mc Duck enterprise showed any signs of the sickness. Contact with infected pre-lockdown was discarded as to more than six months went incident free; no relatives of the workers presented any symptoms either. Notorious signs of the disease manifested approximately three months ago, as Gyro noted, it all began with an itchy throat. Hiding the development of the disease was controversial, with the health of his associates at risk but it was the ultimate trial to prove its transmission.

The closer he got with his work acquaintance and friend Fenton matched with the development of his illness somehow. If the affliction began before the three month mark he wasn´t aware, he could have had dismissed early signals. Watching his coworker with other eyes passed from an embarrassing possibility he wanted to leave aside to a violent cough that expulsed purple petals covered in blood. His loss of breath wasn´t proof of his need to book another session with his therapist to talk about his feelings, it was actually the roots of the flowers growing in his lungs.

#fenro #Gyro Gearloose #Fenton Crackshell Cabrera #ducktales 2017 #ducktales #Ducky writes

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0621215 · 1 year

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My thoughts are snagged and frustrated, there are a lot of kinks i haven't worked out, but what I can say is that I think education is genuinely, 100% the most important thing we can do for people. And whatever the actual material reason may be for compulsory education laws, they do exist. This is why it's hard for me to get my understanding of my own job as a teacher to "it's just a job." I've got this new neighbor in my new place who is a lonely old man, you know the type, they grab your ear and they can't let go, even if they feel themselves doing it. Today he's talking to me for like an hour about Warhammer 40k out of nowhere, boring as hell, but I'm letting him, uh-huhing nodding. It's like when my dad wants me to watch specific David Letterman clips so he can talk about them with me. People want a friend, but they also want a friend with whatever same interest as them, so they proselytize a bit. This is something I struggle with, because I want some clear boundary notion of evil popular pastimes (TV shows, bad art, etc.) vs good popular pastimes (whatever I do/am into, obviously.)

(What you're afraid of is people not getting it, is feeling like you're letting your dad down because you don't want to watch late show interviews, is being pestered at recess by the kid on the spectrum who won't stop asking you rhetorical questions about the Notre Dame fire and Uvalde, is being unable to find a socially graceful exit from the conversation with your neighbor, is tuning out a loved one because you're lost in your own thoughts. But — take me as I am or let me go. What you're afraid of is perfect social cohesion being impossible, and it is impossible.)

You hate to have to drop a hint on purpose, and you feel bad anyway if you drop a hint on accident. What I'm afraid of is that I can't get along with people, that secretly I can't stand them and they can't stand me.

Anyway, my lonely old man neighbor has beef with the building manager, who I personally don't like because she never responded to my emails when I was moving in and couldn't figure out why I had no power. Now I'm sure it's like a sick Hegelian dialectic for the both of them, but my neighbor drops this truism, that you can't be in this line of work if you don't like people. Well, I feel weird saying that because now I've got this fear that I myself don't like people, but the true and sharp point of his fact remains that her job is managing apartments where people live. I move in on the weekend because the 1st falls on a Friday, and because that's when I have my days off because I'm a teacher, and there's no power, and the only person I can get ahold of to help me from the management company — because it's the weekend — is the one electrician working the weekend, putting out metaphorical fires across the city. I didn't get power till Monday, two days in the dark with cold water, but I didn't want to go back to my dad's house because I feel too guilty about not liking him that much. Specifically, filial piety leaves a bad taste in my mouth I think because the ruling dynamic in the relationship was fear and resentment, and now it's something like contempt and pity. I don't like my father, except in the moments that I do. I'll have to come to terms with that, but the fact remains that I want to keep him at a distance.

So I am a teacher, and trust me that I've got all this internal conflict and cognitive dissonance about when I try to do it My Way, when I give everyone 100% on homework sheets without checking who's done them or turned them in, apparently because I can't even be fucked to do even that, when I . . . show up and improvise lessons. I hate and revile the entire educational system, the grade-based assessment, multiple choice, teaching to the test, the fact my school is for-profit, that they shove 30 kids in a classroom, all that. Despite that, I want to do the best I can for the students, and I, from practical experience (having gone to school myself) knowing that "education is what remains after you've forgotten what you learned", can only really conclude that there must be something good I can do for the students in — forgive me for phrasing it like this — being good to be around and cultivating good vibes in my classroom, reprimanding them for actually cruel behavior (i.e. being mean, inconsiderate or cruel) and supporting them everywhere else as much as I possibly can. Trying to help them break out of any cruel boxes they might be painted into by friends or family, protecting them from stupid or potentially harmful school-oriented situations without consideration for what's specifically good or bad for me.

The main thing this sort of thing requires is me saying: "I have sound enough judgment that my judgment more often than not correctly identifies where the System is good or bad for the students." I only have good intentions, but then it's probably true that the ideas that people come up with are just how they make sense of the material situation that they're in. Like — I don't think this is the case, but it Could be the case that I'm crazy and a screw-up, and I explain my ill fit in this world — otherwise mostly good — by envisioning myself on a doomed, noble crusade.

The original point of this post was to express that I want to be at work every day because I think that's important to being a good teacher in any sense, and I think it's really stupid that doctors don't do appointments on the weekend. Why can't we coordinate so that half of the doctors do Sun-Thurs, and half do Tues-Sat? I shouldn't have to wait till the summer or take time off because I'm trying to become healthier. "One afternoon off isn't a big deal!" What about the rest?

I have this idea of myself in my mind now as unhealthy, and I can't tell whether I am or not. I know having to drive all over the place makes me feel like shit musculoskeletally, but everyone acts like it's normal to drive everywhere, and the whole fucking city is set up so that you can't walk anywhere, and I feel like shit when I do walk, and my best guess is my stupid fucking feet are too weak and malformed to just wear normal shoes from the store, but even once I jump through a bunch of hoops and pay a bunch of money to fix that I'll still have to drive everywhere, because everything is really far apart, and the only place that's really walkable is the 24 hour corner store, and only unhealthy things are purchased there. This is really why I don't like my dad: he thinks everything is fine.

I want to be the best teacher ever. This is both a selfish and an unselfish aspiration; selfish because I want this because I wish my experience in school had been better, but unselfish because I know that the only sensible goal to draw from this is to try and make it better for others. I think I am capable of identifying with anyone. Something I'm scared of is that I am uniquely deficient — I'm just physically malformed, or I'm just lazy — and that's why I often feel like shit, and that's why I can't keep my life in order. I'm hoping the IRS takes my electronically filed taxes, because for verification I needed to provide my gross adjusted income from last year, and I don't know where my tax return from last year is, so I just sort of guessed based on an old W2 I did have. Actually, I haven't even looked for last year's tax return. My dad would just say — and he did warn me — keep track of your tax return, don't lose it. Now that I've thought about it for 20 seconds I probably know where it is, I could probably spend 5 minutes digging it up. But I'm always scrambling, and when I'm focused on one thing i'm scared to break my focus, because focus is a precious thing.

You buy something and it turns out to be garbage. In Protagoras, Socrates is warning you off about snake oil, even back then; that's the comparison he makes to Protagoras, he's saying, how do you know Protagoras isn't going to sell you spiritual snake oil?

I would never want to sell anybody snake oil; this is why I can't teach to the test, because that feels like snake oil. This is why testing anything besides fucking math is stupid, because jesus, how can you justify that? It's either trivia, or it's something that feels insane to tell kids is definitely wrong or definitely right. It gives them the wrong idea.

Course, my end goals are crazy, coz don't people really do like watching late night shows, or playing Warhammer? Maybe I only resent people for enjoying themselves because I'm sick. But you buy something and it turns out to be garbage, including medicine, spiritual practices, this and that. I can't trust that I go to a podiatrist from the phone book and they actually care about fixing my feet. I can't trust that anyone can fix my feet, coz no psychiatrist has ever fixed my soul, nor doctor my gut. I feel lonely, and someone tries to love me, and I send them away coz I can't love them back. What am I trying to do with education? I'm trying to create a world in which, had I been born at the right time, I could have been happy.

Well, I won't give into despair. There will be further moments of happiness in my life — perhaps more or perhaps less, but it doesn't matter either way. What matters is the conviction that I am capable of making the world a better place, or that it's at least worth trying to.

I love you with all my heart.

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trulyinspiringmovies · 2 years

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The Lost World: Jurassic Park

“The Lost World: Jurassic Park” loses all nuance and self-awareness to deliver a seriously unengaging movie.

Ian Malcolm is asked to travel to Isla Sorna to document the dinosaurs that were not part of the original theme park and have been living in isolation for four years. Malcolm refuses, stating John Hammond is just making another mistake, but is coaxed into returning after finding out that his girlfriend is there. When he gets there, he’s met with his new research team. What they find out is that they’re not the only humans on the island. Hammond’s old company is now trying to capture dinosaurs to open a new theme park. It quickly becomes apparent that everyone has bit off more than they can chew.

Finding out that Sam Neill wasn’t coming back for this movie as Alan Grant was disappointing, to say the least. I thought having Jeff Goldblum’s Ian Malcolm as the new main character was an interesting idea... until I realized how boring he is as a character. Don’t get me wrong. I like Jeff Goldblum. I just think that his character in this movie wasn’t all that interesting. In the original movie, Ian Malcolm was just that guy who warns everyone about the dangers of what they were doing. In this movie, he’s still doing that, but this time he does it constantly. He’s much less of a rock star in this movie too. He has a girlfriend and a daughter from a previous relationship. I get why the choice to give him this family was made. It’s so that he has something to potentially lose throughout the film, but it really went against his character in the first movie. Admittedly, I like how getting Ian Malcolm back on the island was handled. The movie does a good job at setting things up, but never really delivers further than that. The whole second act of this movie is just one long survival sequence. They get attacked by dinosaurs, the dinosaurs just leave, the crew rests, the dinosaurs come back to attack, and the cycle just continues. It’s seriously unengaging to just watch that happen over and over again, especially when the kills are tainted by weird or dumb choices. There’s a scene where Ian, his girlfriend, and Nick are hanging from a rope over a cliff. The person that’s supposed to save them is this bumbling idiot who makes all the wrong choices. I can’t tell you how many times I smacked the center of my forehead watching him try to tie cables around various objects. When he eventually gets ripped apart, I couldn’t help but feel glad that his stupid antics were finally over. There’s another scene with these baby Velociraptors that nibble a bit on the bad guy and then back off. They do this again and back off again. It’s only until he conveniently falls behind a log, obscured from the camera, that the tiny dinosaurs devour the man. I get it from a filmmaking standpoint. It’s to show a little taste of what the baby dinosaurs are capable of to then let the audience’s imagination do the rest of the work. It just doesn’t make a lot of narrative sense. At a certain point, the movie ditches the idea of the dinosaur attacks being thrilling and tries to opt for comedy. There’s a scene where Ian is double-backing between a door to avoid a Velociraptor. There’s also the infamous gymnastic scene that truly felt like a low point for this already frustrating movie. Finally, the movie rushes to get to something that thought would be cool without actually earning it. The Tyrannosaurus wreaking havoc in the city sounds cool, but if you don’t earn it, it doesn’t feel good. There’s a massive plot hole that allows for this to happen and it’s indicative of the mindset the filmmakers were in when coming up with the ending. Do anything to make sure the T-Rex is rampaging in the city by the end, even if it makes no sense. I’d be madder at this movie, but there are still good aspects sprinkled inside. The use of animatronics is still here, so it’s nice to still see impressive puppetry. The directing in this movie is still top-notch thanks to Steven Spielberg. I know that the next movie is commonly known as the worst movie in the franchise, so I can’t wait to see what’s in store.

★★★

Watched on June 7th, 2022

#The Lost World: Jurassic Park #May #1997 #Action #Science Fiction #Adventure #Thriller #Adaptation #PG-13 #Steven Spielberg #June 2022 #3 stars

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ancestorsofjudah · 6 months

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2 Kings 4: 1-7. "The King of the Bowstring."

The Second Book of Kings is turning out to be much different than the First. So far it is not as fraught with the mistakes of its kings, suitors, or kingdoms, and the Prophets Elijah and Elisha establish new paradigms that are not seen in other parts of the Tanakh, including this miracle:

The Widow’s Olive Oil

4 The wife of a man from the company of the prophets cried out to Elisha, “Your servant my husband is dead, and you know that he revered the Lord. But now his creditor is coming to take my two boys as his slaves.”

2 Elisha replied to her, “How can I help you? Tell me, what do you have in your house?”

“Your servant has nothing there at all,” she said, “except a small jar of olive oil.”

3 Elisha said, “Go around and ask all your neighbors for empty jars. Don’t ask for just a few. 4 Then go inside and shut the door behind you and your sons. Pour oil into all the jars, and as each is filled, put it to one side.”

5 She left him and shut the door behind her and her sons. They brought the jars to her and she kept pouring. 6 When all the jars were full, she said to her son, “Bring me another one.”

But he replied, “There is not a jar left.” Then the oil stopped flowing.

7 She went and told the man of God, and he said, “Go, sell the oil and pay your debts. You and your sons can live on what is left.”

In a Jewish household, the wife and mother is called in Hebrew akeret habayit. This means literally the “mainstay” of the home. It is she who largely determines the character and atmosphere of the entire home. The Wife is made up of all the "details."

The Man of the House is Mashiach, the fulfillment of the details in the external world.

Widows are wives that have lost contact with the affairs of humanity and are outcast. We are living in a world of widows. Our affairs are all of the essence of ungodly wickedness because our connection to the Details has been severed due to the absence of a King of Israel and the besieging of the Temple City, Jerusalem.

In the tale of woe above, the widow represents the disconnection between the Temple and the idea of Mashiach.

Elisha, the Spirit of Government says it will intervene and provide the collateral needed to ensure the idea of a future Temple City does not die out.

To this end an amazing miracle takes place- an nearly endless fountain of olive oil, enough to fill every jar in the household and provide income to pay the debt

In Jewish mysticism, olive oil is a symbol of esoteric depth and insight. The spiritual writings wryly observe that the oil is only extracted through squeezing and compressing the olive, and then straining to remove the impurities. Ironically, it is destruction of the fruit that produces this high quality product.

Clay jars are worthless on their own, but can become priceless depending on their contents. The reverse can also be true: a jar with pee in it is worth much less than an empty one, and so is a jar without a lid, aka a man or boy who slanders.

Slaves are persons who work without pay. Their efforts do not have returns on investment their happiness is irrelevant. The future is empty if there are portents of slavery.

Slavery includes immaturity, delusion, politics, religious beliefs, and the act of forcing free men to yield to the will of others who are otherwise, just like them.

Debtors are slaves to their past immoral conduct. The Creditor is God, who is apparently willing to fill our eyes with light, our lungs with air, and for many of us, our stomachs with food. So long as we understand the importance of this, there is hope.

There are two ways to deal with the Creditor. One is through sacrifice, one is through an offering. This parable refers to the process for undertaking the former.

Elisha says everyone in the neighborhood has to volunteer empty jars to the Widow's cause, the making of an offering in order to put an end to slavery, and they comply.

The widow is able to use the Olive Oil Fountain Elisha created and the widow's son's, one of whom, the youngest, will become the Man of the House, Mashiach.

The Gematria Values for the above are next:

v. 1: The Number in Gematra is 13432, יגד‎ג‎ב, yagdgab "to search for refuge, the shield."

Gab refers to a curved lens, which means all the refuge humanity needs exists right behind and in front of the eyes. Gad, "to uncover the hidden treasure" combined with gab, "gadgab" is the secret.

v. 2: The Number in Gematra is 10933, י‎טג‎ג‎, ytg= "yeter tag", "the king of the bowstring."

The masculine noun יתר (yeter), meaning rest, remnant (Exodus 23:11, 2 Samuel 10:10). Note that this noun is spelled and pronounced the same as יתר (yeter), meaning cord or bowstring.

The feminine noun יתרה (yitra), meaning abundance, riches (Isaiah 15:7 and Jeremiah 48:36 only).

The masculine noun יותר (yoter) or יתר (yoter), meaning superiority or advantage (Ecclesiastes 6:8, Esther 6:6).

The King of the Bowstring is one who arms the mind with the Instructions in the Torah and aims right at the future. The knowledge of the Torah and the interchange it has with the next increment of time happens so quickly, but if the bowman's eye is keen and his arms and upper body are strong, history can be altered.

v. 3-4: The Number in Gematra is 10462, ידוב‎‎, yadov. "God's Dove" is the prophet Jonah.

Assumed root יון (ywn) yields the noun יון (yawen), meaning mire or swampy, boggy ground. Mire's signature failure to provide secure footing is often used proverbially.

Note that in the Bible dry land often signifies factual and consensual certainty, whereas water (seas and rivers) denote liquidity, growth and potential. This is why in the Bible the great cultures are always associated with their respective great rivers.

From the same or identical second root יון (ywn) comes noun יונה (yona), meaning dove. In the Bible the dove serves both as a symbol of weakness or indecisiveness, and of vast abundance (as well as being the bodily form of the Holy Spirit). Apparently, in antiquity doves were everywhere.

They were recognized to show no resolute dedication to an ecological niche (like, say, the eagle), and to flutter about in uncertain circles, much unlike the straight paths of, say, ravens. Ravens are associated with hearing and doves with sight. The Greek word for dove is περιστερα (peristera), of which element περι (peri) indeed describes both a broad circle and ubiquity.

Curiously similar to the word for dove, the verb ינה (yana) means to do someone wrong or to oppress or vex someone. Perhaps the two have nothing to do with each other but where the great leaps are most celebrated, it's the little irritations in life that provoke the most massive progress.

Or in other words: for every one brilliantly engineered iPhone there are hundreds of staples, paperclips and rubber bands that tie much more of life together."

v. 5-6: The Number in Gematra is 9240, טב‎דאֶפֶס‎, tabs.

The verb טבע (taba') means to impress or sink down. It's used to describe how David's slung stone became lodged in Goliath's forehead (1 Samuel 17:49), but also how Jeremiah sank into the mud at the bottom of the cistern that became his prison (Jeremiah 38:6, 38:22, see Psalm 69:3, 69:15 and 9:15), or how the gates of the daughter of Zion sank into the ground (Lamentations 2:9), or how Pharaoh and his army sank into the Sea of Reeds (Exodus 15:4).

Judging from its derivation, this verb was also used to describe the sinking of a signet-ring into wax, and via that usage our verb appears to have contracted a secondary meaning of being established or decreed.

Hence YHWH challenged Job to declare on what the foundations of the earth were sunk, or perhaps via which decree the earth was made to come into existence (Job 38:6).

Likewise, Hochma (wisdom personified) declares that before the mountains were sunk (or perhaps established by decree), she existed (Proverbs 8:25).

v. 7: The Number in Gematra is 7453, ז‎דהג‎, zdahg. "The cycle of the understanding of the pasture."

za-dah=

The verb שדד (shadad) means to deal violently with, ruin or destroy (Judges 5:27, Isaiah 16:4, Jeremiah 51:48). This verb occurs fifty-seven times in the Bible; twenty-six of them in the Book of Jeremiah.

There is perhaps a bit of a cross-over to the root שׂדה (sdh) as the latter may denote the home of the wild beasts, with all dangers and ruin associated with that.

The prophet Jeremiah tells of people who go out of their cities (but omits saying that they thus enter the fields) and come upon a wolf that destroys them (Jeremiah 5:6). For the destroying, he uses our verb שדד (shadad).

This verb's sole derivation is the masculine noun שד (shad), sometimes spelled שוד (shud), meaning havoc or violence (Amos 3:10, Jeremiah 6:7) or devastation (Hosea 7:13, Isaiah 13:6).

dah= comprehension

hag= to encircle.

As time passes, the men of wisdom who have led us and the men of delusion who have misled us will pass away, but their habits will remain with us, ingrained in their sons and surivors. God help us all if the former succeed in making a stronger impression on humanity than the latter.

The Melachim, the Book of Kings was written by Jewish Prophets to ensure the habits of men of greatness outlive the rest and maintain our glorious culture.

Mashiach, "global ethical responsibility" will not therefore be a one time fireworks display event. It must be passed on, like the olive oil into the empty jars of the future sons of Judaism.

This has obviously not been the tendency of humanity, which has instead preferred to profess fascination with the Jew only to default to the utmost of barbarism at every single opportunity.

The game changer is this thing mentioned above, the King of the Bowstring, the one who is determined to pinpoint the moments in history when the Words of God can convince the people of this world to do the most good possible and interrupt the pattern of moral bankruptcy established by our forebears.

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