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voyageofthenautilus · 1 year

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Some thoughts on Captain Nemo & Prof. Aronnax

Some recent discussion got me thinking about this, and with the start of "The Indian Ocean" and the second half of the book, I thought I’d toss out this very general thought and let other, more intelligent people than myself pile onto it, if they’re so inclined.

So the universal experience of reading 20k Leagues is that we all fall in love with Captain Nemo, right? I sure did when I read it as a kid (as did my fellow mod). I don’t think I’d encountered a character like him before. Part of the novelty was how mysterious he was. Before I read the book where his backstory is explained in full, I had no idea what had driven him to reject human society so thoroughly, and the ambiguity was delicious. Another aspect that was new to me was how enjoyable a character he was, while not being heroic or even morally good. I remember feeling conflicted when I was young about what it meant that I liked characters like that- characters I found compelling, but who objectively were not good people. There were more characters like this that came into my life through the years, but Nemo was definitely the first.

The first time I read 20k Leagues as an adult, I saw in Nemo traits that I recognized from a person I’d once known in real life- a horrible manipulator. The violence he causes also stood out in stark contrast with my fond memories of the character. In remembering only the more alluring aspects of Nemo’s character, I had completely wiped out the parts of him that actually made him interesting to me in the first place. Even now, as we go through this story in real time, my memory of loving the character clouds his actual actions. I’ll read one of Nemo’s impassioned speeches and start nodding along, then realize… what am I agreeing with, here? The misanthropic ravings of a bitter man who won’t let himself heal from his trauma and has found perhaps the absolute worst coping mechanism? And why am I trying to reconcile the unsavory aspects of Nemo’s character, as if I need to justify my interest in him? (There’s a whole argument here about what it means to like morally complex characters and how Nemo fans would be cancelled on TikTok if this book had been released in modern times, but putting aside those half-joking thoughts…)

All of this is to say… I feel like anyone who falls in love with Nemo as a character is experiencing something similar to what Aronnax is going through. Because as I said, Nemo reminds me of a manipulator I once knew, someone who had a certain charisma about him and was able to draw people in with his larger-than-life personality and entertaining stories, who also took advantage of the effect he had on people to unfortunately hurt them. I don’t think Nemo is necessarily trying to draw Aronnax in, at least not from the start, but the way he singles him out and shows him all of the Nautilus’ technological marvels during their very first official meeting, then exerts his dominance over him by refusing to see him again for an extensive period of time (making Aronnax wait for him), and also the thing with the panels opening at just the right time to dazzle Aronnax, Conseil, and Ned with all these visions of undersea life feels so calculated and intentional, even though I know there was no way that Nemo could have heard their conversation… All of this reminds me so strong of the behavior of that person I once knew, and it makes me feel deeply for Aronnax and see him as a victim. Aronnax is so dazzled by the abundant resources available to him and by Nemo himself, the mysterious Man of the Waters, that he’s willing to stay aboard the Nautilus and overlook the implications of atrocities that Nemo is almost definitely committing. This mirrors my own reaction as a youngster (I was 12 when I first read this book) to Nemo and Twenty Thousand Leagues as a whole, where I ended up overlooking the dark aspects of Nemo’s character, and the deeper underlying themes of the novel, in favor of OOH THE SEA IS SO COOL and oooooh edgy genius with a submarine (lol). I think this is also similar to the phenomenon of people falling in love with villainous characters and making excuses for them because they’re cute or have a tragic backstory.

And this can be tied in to real life and how a comfortable life can lure people into a state of apathy and selfishness. I recall a time I knew someone in a creative field who repeatedly expressed racist and sexist views, and the people who worked with him claimed not to agree with him but still chose to work with him because the opportunity and benefits were too great. This is what I find the situation that Aronnax is in as the second half of the book begins reminding me of the most. Aronnax knows that something unpleasant is going on, and he knows at least one of his companions doesn’t want to stay onboard the Nautilus, and he knows they’re all truly prisoners. He’s aware that should there be an opportunity for him to escape, his companion will take it, and he doesn’t want to leave him behind. And he also at least has a strong enough sense of self-preservation that he knows escaping would be good for him, too. But he also admits that he doesn’t want to end this underwater tour of the world, and I can imagine that he doesn’t want to reckon with the idea that this person who has taken him in and opened up an entirely new world to him of wonders and beauty could be committing any unjustified acts of violence. And in my eyes, it’s not just about the voyage- Nemo himself is so compelling to Aronnax that even though he KNOWS he shouldn’t trust him, he allows himself to overlook that because his knowledge, his intellect, and maybe even the enigma itself attract him.

Just wanted to push those thoughts out there like a kitten batting a ball. I can’t describe what a valuable and enriching experience it’s been so far to not only re-read this book as an adult, not only read (for the first time) a marvelous translation that restores the full text of the book, but also to share this experience with others whose insights push me to examine the text with a more critical eye and, in turn, examine my own thoughts/feelings/reaction to it.

#thoughts from mod blue #voyage of the nautilus #meta #Captain Nemo #perhaps i am way off base here idk #i wrote this before the most recent update based on my recollections of the way the plot was going to go #but today's update changed some stuff for me

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crocerella · 11 months

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To the men that decide to abuse women. When I was in kindergarden my mom used to let me pick out my outfits each morning. I would wear pink skirts and t-rex t-shirts and oddly colored hats. My best friend's name was Nikki and we'd play and laugh for hours running through the sprinklers and down made-shift water slides. I cried every time that Nemo got separated from his dad because my heart ached so strongly with pain. I wanted to be a butterfly when I grew up, and then a cake bakery owner, but I can't remember what I wanted to be next.

My parents were gay so I learned from an early age that love could be seen as ugly even when it's all you know. My mother got cancer when I was eleven so I learned that life is temporary, I learned what it was like to cry so hard you couldn't breathe.

When I was fourteen I wore rainbow socks and these awkwardly long ones with sloths and bulldogs. They were my favorite animals. I wrote poetry during class and dreamt about being a pirate at night when I was falling asleep. I spent hours making travel itineraries and watching historical romance movies.

I wanted that type of love, so when the first boy that ever professed his attraction to me wanted me to be his girlfriend I called a friend for some advice and said why not. Fourteen. He was almost an adult so I thought that meant I must have been more mature. Good for me.

I wasn't more mature. I planned dates with pillow forts and showered him with handmade notes and gifts and paintings. I felt so full of life, everything was so funny and abundant. We fell in love and he was the first person I ever let in entirely. I had been too scared to do that before. He took my love for him and my desperation to make him happy and destroyed pieces of my dignity and soul.

You see, when you hurt someone's body from the inside you change them. When you damage parts of someone that they cannot escape, skin they cannot shed, you leave markings that stay with someone forever. Men who abuse women I will not beg you to change. I will not plead. I will not cry on my knees. I look you straight in the eyes, I sit in front of you as a human being and a child and now a woman and tell you this. You hurt people because you fear that you are unacceptable as you are. You do not believe in your own ability to receive love freely. And so you must take it or make people feel the same way you do on the inside - powerless. I will not ask you why. I pity you, I pity that you may not know how it feels to hug a friend tenderly and pull stray fuzz from the tendrils of their hair. I pity that you will not know how good being generous to strangers feels or how light it feels to compliment a women without expecting anything in return. These moments everyday make the world feel so warm and beautiful that it feels like my heart may burst from overflowing.

Your obsession with control will cause you to look back on your life in old age with many regrets. You will realize you wasted it in the wrong pursuits, feeling as though you spent it all avoiding yourself. And you will die bitter. That is the curse of selfishness and violence.

I will spend the rest of my life in harmony with the deepest parts of myself. I will show the parts of me that I am most ashamed of the most love. I will spend the rest of my life treating myself gently, forgiving myself, raising myself as if I would my own dearest most beloved child. And I will know true love and power in a way that you may never know.

#offmychest #writing #healing

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0046incognito · 3 years

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thinking about a nemo revamp.... new nemo

#my art #original character #character design #cmy2k #nemo north #designing interesting human characters is always really hard for me but nemo Must be human for the cyborg/android/human trifecta #like the easy way to fix his design might be ''uhhhhhhhh give him a robot eye'' like he had when i first started conceptualizing cmy2k #but then i'd have to find a way to explain HOW he'd still be human and not a cyborg with that and it's just messy #i like human nemo so he will stay human he is a people person in the most literal sense #also mostly i just wanted him to have a more interesting torso than just ''tshirt over long sleeve shirt'' because that looks really boring #but you slap a turtleneck and a hood on there and bam now we got something #also i love the idea of nemo having to be the one that asks for ketchup at the fast food place because his friends either can't talk period #or are impossible to have a normal conversation with like nemo isn't even an extrovert he's just normal and even then he's Barely holding #himself together #christ these tags got long tl;dr i like nemo *smile*

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diazevan · 3 years

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I'm falling apart (and all I want is to trust you)

Eddie and Christopher's reactions to Buck collapsing in 3x03: The Searchers.

Christopher Diaz Week, Day 4: Eddie & Chris + “You’re the most important person.”

Read on AO3

Eddie attempted to hold his breath, but he couldn’t.

A natural instinct fought against him, forcing him to struggle through quick strangled breaths.

He leaned his head back, scanning Christopher for possible injuries with rapid eyes, and when he couldn’t see anything aside from a few scratches, he drew his son back into his arms, frantically gripping onto him as if he would disappear, without a moment’s notice.

Me and Christopher, we were at the beach.

Eddie screwed up his face as he pressed his forehead against Christopher’s chest, taking a moment to listen to the comforting sound of his heart beating.

He swallowed the rising bile in his throat.

His son had been there, he survived the wave as it came crashing down upon him, and Eddie wasn’t; he would need more than ten fingers to count all the times he wasn’t there for his son, and the longer the list became, the heavier he felt.

“Dad—” Christopher’s tired voice muttered, “Buck fell over.”

Buck.

When Eddie had set eyes on his best friend, with two bleeding gashes across his face and an injured arm tied up in a makeshift bandage, he was sure he hadn’t felt dread like it since he had seen Shannon laid lifelessly across that street.

There was the initial shock; seeing Buck, bloodied and bruised, the same guy who’d escaped death twice in the shortest space of time, who happened to be on blood thinners, barely standing on his own two feet.

Then, it changed quickly, Eddie’s fatherly instincts canceled out everything else and his mind fixated on Christopher’s absence.

Christopher hiccupped, “Dad.”

Eddie, I just don't know how to say it.

Christopher tangled his legs around Eddie’s middle, tucking his head against his shoulder as he admitted, in the gentlest of whispers, “I want Buck.”

He was looking for Buck.

“Okay.” Eddie scraped his teeth over his lower lip as he swayed up onto his feet, allowing the world around him to come crashing back, “Let’s—”

Buck was down. Still awake, but his eyes were unfocused, staring blankly ahead; his skin was an awful grey, and his breaths were less controlled than Eddie’s erratic ones.

A panicked Hen was perching behind, acting as a human pillow for Buck to fall back on, but that didn’t stop her from ripping a glove off, to press her fingers on his pulse point.

Bobby had his hand pressed firmly against Buck’s shoulder, he was speaking, but Eddie couldn’t hear him.

Chimney charged over, clutching a medkit as he knelt, his hand on Buck’s cheek, trying to gain his attention, but Buck barely flinched at the touch.

Eddie knew exactly what Buck needed and what the half-asleep kid bundled in his arms did too.

Reassurance.

“Buck—” Eddie breathed as he hurried over, “Hey, Buck—”

Buck lifted his eyes, they widened when he met Eddie’s gaze, “Eddie, I—” He tried to move, but was easily pulled back, “I’m sorry.”

Eddie rushed to reassure, “It’s okay, look…” He got onto one knee, sitting Christopher down, he looped his arms under his son’s, and turned him, so that he was facing Buck, “Look who it is.”

Christopher extended his hand, gently laying it across Buck’s cheek, “Buck.”

Buck choked out a sob, his face leaning into the hold, “Christopher—”

“I couldn’t find you,” Christopher admitted, “So, I just kept swimming.”

Buck attempted a lopsided grin, “So did I.” He scrunched his nose, “Sorry I couldn’t find you.”

“But I found you!” Christopher jumped up, off his dad’s knee, bringing him his arms to gently wrap around Buck, “And you didn’t stop looking.”

Eddie caught Hen’s face, as he crumpled, tears filling her eyes, Bobby and Chimney were the same, turning his faces away.

Christopher leaned back, hand on his chest, “I’m Nemo.” He proclaimed, “And you’re Dory.” He prodded the center of Buck’s chest, “Dad’s Marlin.”

Eddie wiped a hand over his eyes as he smiled.

Buck nodded, his eyelids drooping slightly, “That’s right, buddy.”

“Okay—” Eddie reached out, reluctantly pulling Christopher away, “Uncle Chimney needs to make sure Buck is okay.”

Hen spoke soft, “And I can check you over too Chris—”

“I’m okay,” Christopher hummed, “Buck saved me.”

Hen nodded, tying her arm tighter around Buck’s unstable front, “I bet he did.”

Chimney was busy manhandling Buck, doing all the routine checks, “Your chest doesn’t sound too good, Buckaroo.”

“I’m—” Buck let his head flop against Bobby’s shoulder, “Tired.”

Eddie jumped to his feet, scooping Christopher up with him, facing him away from the chaos.

“I know—” Bobby jostled him, “But you know the drill, kid, stay awake.”

Buck nodded, “Okay.”

“I’m gonna see if they’ve got a bed for him,” Chimney hurried through the automatic doors, where he collided with Athena, who jumped into action as soon as her eyes found Buck; she followed behind Chimney.

“Pulse is erratic,” Hen muttered, darting her eyes between Eddie and Bobby, “We don’t know how long he was in the water.”

Eddie informed them, “They were at the beach.”

Hen lowered her head, shaking it.

“That’s—” Bobby bit his lip, “That’s impossible.”

Hen squeezed his arm, “They made it out.” She moved her head, turning her attention to Buck, “Hey, you wanna show me those beautiful blue eyes of yours?”

“Sure,” Buck blinked slowly, “But you’re married.”

“Ha.” Hen stroked her fingers through his hair, “In your dreams.”

Buck stammered, “Lost Chris—”

“He’s here, Buck,” Hen told him, pointing up, “He’s okay.”

“No.” Buck was stern, “We were safe, then lost him—”

Bobby looked to Eddie, “It was a natural disaster, son,” He told him, “Not your fault.”

“Wave came back.”

The wave retracted half an hour before sundown, and that was six hours ago, that was how long they spent apart. Could have been worse. That meant they spent six hours together and almost five apart.

“We were on a firetruck,” Buck laughed at the irony of it all, “He fell in, and I jumped—”

Eddie closed his eyes, drawing in a sharp breath as he drew Christopher closer.

Buck didn’t even hesitate to follow.

Eddie wished he didn’t have to listen, but at least Buck was talking.

“Eddie—” Buck winced, “I’m so sorry.”

“Stop.” Eddie ordered, “You did everything right and he’s okay.”

“He’s okay,” Buck relaxed, heavy against Bobby’s side, “He’s okay—” He muttered as his eyes came to a close.

“No.” Hen patted his back, trying to coax him awake, “Buck!”

“Come on, kid,” Bobby turned, hands on Buck’s face, “You’ve gotta stay awake.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Hey—” Chimney jogged over, panic etched on his face, “We’ve got a bed free, Athena’s making sure nobody claims it.”

Hen spun her head, “We’re gonna need a gurney.”

“No.” Buck winced, “No—”

Hen pressed a hand to his forehead, hissing, “I don’t like—”

“Please—” In his fevered state, Buck moved closer to Bobby, “Please!”

Bobby grabbed at Buck’s loose limbs, tugging him up so that his head was pressing against the older man’s chest, “Hey.”

“Want—” Whatever Buck wanted, he was determined, “Need—”

“What do you need, kid?”

Buck slurred, his breathing slowed, “Important—”

“What’s important?”

“You.”

Eddie could pinpoint the moment that Bobby’s heart shattered.

“I’ve got you, kid,” Bobby tapped his arm, “I’m right here.”

Hen was unable to hide the slight crack in her voice, “We need to get him inside, Bobby.”

“Okay.” Bobby looped his arm under Buck’s back, clutching his fingers around his shoulder, “I’ll take him.”

Chimney’s eyes widened, “You sure?”

“I’m not as old as I look,” Bobby got up onto his feet, one arm under Buck’s back and the other under his knees, gathering his legs, “See.”

Hen gently lifted Buck’s head, letting it sit at an uncomfortable angle against Bobby’s chest.

Buck was a little taller than Bobby, but it worked, for the most part, and Bobby didn’t even flinch.

Chimney gently tapped Bobby’s back, wearing his cautious smile, “Let’s get him inside.”

Bobby and Chimney headed towards the automatic doors, people parted to allow them through.

Hen cleared her throat, “Eddie, I can check Christopher over now.”

“Thank you.”

Christopher held up his head, looking around, “Wanna go with Buck.” He was clear and precise with his demand, “Please.”

Eddie didn’t want to keep them apart, but knew, for now, they had to be.

“You can later.” Hen pressed a hand to Christopher’s back, “When the doctors have checked him over, you’ll be the first one to give him a hug, okay?”

Christopher nodded, “Okay.”

Eddie was quiet, while sitting on the corner of the cot, Christopher on his lap as Hen did her usual checks, asking Christopher a couple of questions, which he answered happily while peppering in the fact that Buck was a superhero.

“He’s good,” Hen assured Eddie, “Really good.”

“Yeah?”

“He’s barely got a scratch on him, and the ones he does have don’t even need bandages,” She told him, “A change of clothes and a good night’s sleep, that’s what this one needs.”

“That’s—”

“I know,” Hen nodded, “Buck really went through the wringer—”

“He spent six hours searching alone,” Eddie scraped his teeth over his lower lip, keeping his voice low, “Bleeding out—”

“Like I said before,” Hen lifted her shoulders, “He’s a golden retriever.”

Eddie snorted a laugh.

“And a fighter.” Hen locked her fingers together, “He did good. Both of them did.” She stood up, “I’ll go and check on him, I’ll report back to you, are you staying?”

“Can’t keep these two apart for too long,” Eddie tied his arm around Christopher’s front, “I won’t do that.”

“Okay.” She nodded, “I’ll see if I can grab some blankets too.” She turned on her heel, heading for the main entrance, quick on her feet.

Christopher shuffled off Eddie’s lap, taking the seat next to him and resting his head on his arm, “Will Buck be okay?”

“He will be,” Eddie said with an uncertain nod, “It’s been a long day.”

“He got hurt looking for me?” Christopher lifted his chin, “Why?”

“He was scared,” Eddie calmed his voice, “You’re a very important person and he loves you.”

He squeaked, “I love him too.”

“It must have been scary, when you couldn’t find him,” Eddie combed a hand through Christopher’s hair, his heart beating at a mile a minute.

“I looked for him, Dad, promise.” Christopher wrapped his hand around Eddie’s, “Like he looked for me.”

“Yeah, and you found him, buddy,” Eddie breathed, “You found each other.”

Christopher straightened his back, searching the crowd, “Is everybody here important?”

“Yeah, everybody is,” He spoke optimistically, of course, knowing that they were more than a few terrible people in the world, but that wasn’t a conversation for now, “But guess what?”

Christopher offered his most adorable grin, “What?”

Eddie pressed his finger against Christopher’s chest, “You’re the most important person.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really…” Eddie scrunched his nose, “To me, Pepa, Abuela, Abuelo, Buck…”

“That’s cool.” Christopher smiled, “You’re important too, Daddy.”

Eddie tucked him closer, “Thank God for you, kid.”

“Hey…” Chimney jogged over, holding a bunch of blankets, he darted his eyes around while he headed over, searching the camp for somebody, “Have you seen Maddie?”

“No,” Eddie shook his head, “Is she on her way?”

“Last I heard, stuck in traffic,” Chimney sighed, “Apparently, Buck phoned her, just before—” He cut himself off, “Here.”

Eddie grasped the blankets, wrapping one around Christopher, “Thanks.”

Christopher celebrated, “Thanks Chimney!”

Chimney smiled, “No problem, kid.”

“How’s Buck doing?” Eddie asked, his knee bouncing.

“He’s doing okay,” Chimney lowered his voice, “They’re letting him rest right now, he’s latched onto Bobby like some sort of octopus.”

Eddie snorted a fond laugh.

“He was a little out of it,” Chimney grinned, “But he made Bobby and Athena cry.”

“Hang on, he made Athena cry?” Eddie held up a hand, “We’re talking about the same Athena, here, right?”

“I know.” Chimney hissed through his teeth, “He basically assumed that everybody would wanna go home, like leave him—”

Eddie smile gradually disappeared; he always had the feeling that Buck was used to being abandoned, and he hated it.

“Said something about his mom and it pushed Athena, a little,” Chimney explained, “He’s sleeping now.”

“Any room for us?” Eddie asked, “I think they need each other.”

“They do.” Chimney spoke in full agreement, “He’s being transferred to First Presbyterian in an hour, should be more room there.”

“Good.”

Christopher yawned, “It’s been a long day, Dad.”

Eddie and Chimney laughed at that.

“Yeah, bud,” Eddie agreed, “It’s been a long day, but you can sleep if you like.”

“Nope.” Christopher sang, “Not until I see Buck.”

Chimney lifted his eyebrows as if to say, ‘we’ll see.’

He was proven wrong as even on the journey to First Presbyterian; Christopher didn’t sleep.

Once they bypassed a couple of rules, they made it into Buck’s room, and Christopher crawled up onto the bed, latching onto Buck’s side, the pair falling asleep instantly.

Eddie relaxed in the seat beside them, crossing his arms, letting himself drift off to sleep.

There was nobody in the world that he trusted, with his son, more than Buck.

#911 fanfiction #911 #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #evan buck buckely #evan buckley #bobby nash #hen wilson #chimney han #firefam #buddie if you squint #liberty writes

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spencessmile · 3 years

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Mi Amour

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary - Spencer finds out what Valentine's day actually means to you.

Warnings - Slight mentions of death, but mostly fluff.

Word Count - 1,791

And all imagines/fanfics/blurbs are written solely by me so please don't steal my work and/or post it without my consent. Feedback and Comments are welcome. Happy reading!

A/N - HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!! I LOVE YOU GUYS!!

Requests are CLOSED!

“Spencer!” You kicked the door with your foot, “Come on, I can’t feel my damn arms,” You were juggling 4 bags of food on one arm as the other held enough alcohol to serve 100 people. “Spen-” The door flew open, revealing Spencer as he fixed his hair. “Help me!” You shoved past him, handing him the alcohol. You set down the food on the table, pulling out the chair and having a seat.

“We could have just ordered this stuff, you know?”

“We could have but I haven’t left my apartment in four days and I needed some fresh air.”

“How much food did you buy?”

“Oh, you’ll probably have loads of leftovers. Like Papa Rossi always says more food is better than less food.”

“Did you happen to go to the grocery store and buy -”

“Double stuffed Oreos and whipped cream? Yeah, the first thing I crossed off my list.”

“You’re the best,” He beamed, skimming through the bags.

“Oh,” You chuckle. “I know.”

“How were the grocery stores?” He asked.

You shake your head as Spencer looks at you in amusement “Everyone is so giddy and full of fluff.”

“Fluff?” Spencer laughed at your choice of word.

“Yeah, holding hands, kissing in public, smiling with their teeth, being extra freaking nice, buying all the damn chocolate and different colored flowers in the world. Don’t even get me started on the damn stuffed teddy bears.”

“Who did you buy these for?” He pulls a nice yellow bouquet out of the bag alongside a vase.

“For you.”

“Why?”

“Because you need some colour in your life besides this were half off and I felt so ridiculous standing in that damn aisle. So, make sure they live longer than a week.”

“On it,” You watched Spencer fill the case with water, adding the flower food, mixing it up, cutting off the ends of the stems, adding the flowers in the vase as he placed it in the middle of his small dining table.

“Mmm,” Spencer stood behind your chair. “They do look nice.”

“Yeah, they do.” You nod.

“Did you bring the movies?”

“Oh yes!” You reach for the bag on the far end. “It’s Disney night.”

“101 Dalmatians, Aladdin, Alice in Wonderland, Bambi and Bambi II, Beauty and the Beast, Cinderella, Dumbo, Finding Dory, Finding Nemo, Lion King, and Coco,” Spencer reads out all the movies.

“Just some of my favorites.”

“These are just some?” Spencer raises his eyebrow at you.

“Disney and Disney Pixar have the best movies. Hands down. Don’t even argue with me on this.” Spencer nods, “Listen, I could have rented out the whole shelf at the shop but I controlled myself.”

“I bet.” He nods. “Alright, which one should we watch first?”

“I picked last time so your turn,” You watched Spencer flip through the movies until he landed on Coco.

“I’ve never watched this one,” You looked at him shocked. “What?”

“Oh my god, where do you keep your tissues?”

“What why?”

“Trust me, you're going to need them. You're going to need lots of them.”

Spencer and you sat on the couch, after watching the movie, boxes of sushi in both of your laps, eating in comfortable silence. You could feel Spencer’s eyes on every once in a while.

“What is it, Spencer?” You asked.

Spencer set down his drink and rubbing his neck. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot,” You replied.

“Why don't you like Valentine’s day?”

You had a feeling that Spencer would ask this question but you weren’t quite sure how you were going to answer it without breaking down, you didn't expect yourself to.

“You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to but I just always wondered. I’ve known you for 6 years and every year we do the same thing. You come over to my house with way too much food and alcohol. We sit here together and watch movies.”

“Are you saying that you don’t like my company?” You pretended to play hurt, just to pull Spencer’s leg. He immediately set down his sushi box and faced you.

“N-No. That n-not what I meant. I didn-t mean to hu-hurt your feelin-” You laughed at how quick he panicked at your words. “Why are you laughing?”

“No reason,” You set aside your box, grabbing your wine glass and settling down on the sofa again. "When I was younger my mom would love celebrating Valentine's day and she would celebrate it with everyone, not just my dad. I would wake up to the smell of bacon, pancakes, her famous buttery and cheese eggs, and cherry pie. My siblings and I would help her set up the table. Once everything used to be set, we'd make our way to their room and wake up my dad. We'd have a tickle war and jus-" You feel the tears pressing as you take a deep breath before continuing. "I remember laying there for several minutes, taking in the comfortable and peaceful silence of our little family. We'd have breakfast, play games, and simply spent the day with one another. We did the tradition every year growing up. When I was young, I asked my mom why she always celebrated Valentine's with us and never just our dad and she said 'Valentine's day isn't meant to be spent with just one person you love, it's meant to be shared with everyone you love. That there is always enough love within you to want to share it with others.' I mean, they could have dropped my siblings and me off at my grandma's and left to celebrate the day on their own, but she never did. She always chose to include us."

Spencer was intently listening as you continued. "Every year I used to look forward to this stupid day, but one morning I woke up and my life changed forever." Spencer grabbed onto your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I was at my grandmother's the night before Valentine's, my parents and siblings were coming to pick me up but when I woke up in the morning I remember my grandma looking at me and without her saying anything, I just knew. It has never been the same since then."

"Y/n," Spencer moved closer. "First off, I'm sorry about your family," You nod, you never once mentioned them to anyone on the team, it was far too painful for you. "Secondly, even though you're not going to believe me, what happened to your family isn't your fault."

"Isn't it?"

"No," Spencer shakes his head as the tears come streaming down your face.

"They still would have been alive Spencer! If it weren't for me, they'd still be here. They'd be here with me, today. I would have been at home but now I don-" Spencer wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back. You stay like for a minute before pulling back. "Sorry, I did-"

"You don't have to apologize."

"The following year on this day I remember being so upset because I woke up to nothing. It was just quiet. I felt so empty and it just hurt so much. I just hated the fact that the one day that bought us together as a family was the same day that ripped them away from my hands. Ever since then, I've had this love-hate relationship with this day."

Even after all these years of you convincing yourself that what happened to your family wasn't your fault, you couldn't help but think it was your fault. If they weren't on the road that morning, then you'd still have them.

"I sulked around every year on Valentine's day until one day, I realized that my mom would have been so upset to see me doing that. She always celebrated that day with music, food, movies, and love. So, I decided to celebrate it just like she would have. Before I joined the team, I used to go out buy loads of takeout, grab a couple of my parent's favorite red wine bottles," You raise your glass. "I'd play our favorite music, watch the same movies we'd watch together, and stuff my face with food. It sort of became my tradition, my thing."

Spencer's inside exploded as he noticed your smile getting bigger as you talked about your family. "I like that."

"What?"

"That you kept the tradition alive."

"Me too." You beamed.

"But why did you decided to share your sole tradition with me?"

"I know that you and your mom probably spent loads of holidays and special days together up until you had to make the tough decision to put her in a care home. After that you probably didn't spend many special days with her," Spencer remains silent at your words. "So I took it upon myself to share the love with you because if my parents knew you, they'd love you. Even though it was rarely said I knew that my parents and sibling loved me a lot, so I decided to share some of that love with you because god Spencer, you deserve it."

Spencer's heart was bursting at your words, he never heard anyone say anything sweeter. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For sharing your love with me," You smiled.

"They're proud of you, you know that?"

"I hope," You chuckle.

"They should be because they raised one hell of a human being. Going through what you did and still having love to share, that's a difficult thing to do."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Let's toast," Spencer raised his glass.

"To what?"

"You shared your love with me so now I'm going to share my love with you," You looked at Spencer confused, he put down both glasses and leaned forward, your faces inches away from one another. He rubbed the tip of his nose with yours, giving you enough time to pull away, but you don't, instead, you wrap your hands around his neck. Soon after, his lips clash with yours as he pulls you closer. You wrap your legs around his waist. Pulling back you rest your forehead against his, "What was that?" Your heart was racing, eyes a little blurry as your mind was a little fuzzy from the wine.

"Just sharing the love, mi amour."

All you have to do now, is listen to your soul - Seeker

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #bau #bau x you #bau x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds masterlist #spencessmiles fanfics

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bluebellhairpin · 3 years

Text

( Notice: OKAY - The pic there says ‘The Hobbit/LOTR’ but for times sake, and my own sanity, there is none listed thus-far (same goes for the ‘other’ category’). Merci for understanding! )

So I’ve been meaning to do this for a while, and I already have a blog for it ( @nemosrepost ) but that doesn’t get too much attention. Thus, here we are!

(This was a nightmare to get done - it took weeks to get all the links and pics done up in my spare time - I hope you appreciate that.)

They’re all sorts here, from Medieval Marvel AU’S, to Modern Attack on Titan one shots. They’re all organised via fandom, and I’ve tried my best to link and tag everything properly, but that is a difficult feat, so beware - for some it may not have worked too well.

Like my *actual* masterlist, this will be updated regularly with new fic recs, and even new characters and fandoms as I read them. All fic’s currently listed (as of November 26, 2020) are found on my reblog account.

I’ve also tried to add in a ‘recommendation summary’ thing of each - so basically just my thoughts on the fic(s). But anyway, have fun browsing, and overall - enjoy!

(AND also - LMAOOOO - Have fun scrolling lololololol!) - Nemo

( Pre - Warning: I am not tagging anything as NSWF, 18+, or triggering content. However some fics listed do contain such material. Please refer to the warnings or Authors Notes on each Fic before reading. Stay safe guys! I love you! )

Bluebellhairpin’s Masterlist

Bucky Barnes

Knight in Rusty Armour - Medieval / A/B/O AU! Series - by @revengingbarnes Honestly I binged the first eight chapters (+ prologue) in close to one sitting. That was mostly because that was all that was published at the time. It is completed now. I love both these AU’s, and I love Bucky - win, win!

Flowers Bloom - Soulmate AU! Series - by revengingbarnes Another great series, and honestly I’m a slut for soulmate au’s, so this author might be coming after my heart - keep up that good work, if you know what I mean.

The Great Build Up - Modern / Firefighter Au! One Shot - by @thottybarnes This ones goes from cute, to hot and steamy, to angsty, and back to cute again. A one shot rollercoaster, and I thoroughly enjoyed every word of it.

Maybe This Time - Mob Au! One Shot - by @propertyofpoeandbucky Okay, so if there’s one thing I like more than an mobster au, it’s adding children into the mix. Something about big bad guys going all soft for this tiny human - and then making them - and that’s called perfection.

Whatever It Takes - Biker AU! One Shot - by @sgtjbuccky He like’s to be loud, so what. He rides a bike, so what. I what to ride him and his bike, so what.

(Un-Named) - One Shot - by @softlybarnes I’ve never liked Bucky’s metal arm more in my entire life. Using it for a baby going through teething? A+ idea.

Hero, Waiting - Medieval AU! One Shot - by captain-ariel-barnes Sadly, this fic is unavailable now, and that - obviously - makes me sad. But I’m adding it her anyway because of how much I adored it. The love triangle between Bucky, Reader, and Steve was amazing, and the feelings? Phenomenal.

Steve Rogers

If Walls Could Talk - One Shot - by propertyofpoeandbucky I’ll recreate my original comment on this fic - ‘Ouch’. And that’s all I have to say about that.

The End of the War - College AU! One Shot - by @redgillan There’s nothing quite like a enemies to lovers trope that’s well-written. But then throw in fight club, a jerk date, ice-cream and pizza - just read it. You’ll understand then.

The Edge of the Water - Mermaid AU! Series - @floatingpetals I have to admit now, I haven’t read all of this yet. But I also have to say, what I have read was fantastic. Mermaids - and Mermen - they just hit different, you know?

Pseudo Princess - Medieval AU! Series - by @shreddedparchment To date, it’s one of the best fics - nay - stories I’ve ever read. I’d dare to say it’s easily the length of a novel, so if you’re up for the long haul, I’d definitely recommend it. It’s worth the wait - trust me. Op obviously put a hella lot of work into it, and it shows.

Loki Laufeyson

Loki’s Happy Ending - Series (?) - by @gingerwritess Listen, I have been and forever will be a Loki girl. Nothing will change that. And every scrap of content Theo produces for Loki I will cradle in my palms and keep warm until they’re ready to go out into the world or whatever - point is, read this.

Just One Quick Glance - One Shot - by @imagines-trashcan After watching ‘Endgame’, and squealing at every moment Loki appeared on screen, only to not have him show up in the final battle - this was one of my comfort fics.

thunderstorms. - One Shot - by @tarynkauai Naturally, Loki’s child would inherit his unease of thunderstorms. And naturally, seeing Loki as a dad makes me happy.

Stitches - One Shot - by @lokibug Loki being nice. I like that. We stan.

Quentin Beck

The Curveball - One Shot - by @healingchurch Listen, this is on here for a reason. I didn’t really like Mysterio ‘cause of what he did to Peter, but hey, some people are good actors, and some write characters acting very well.

Stephen Strange

(Un-Named) - Imagine / One Shot - by @archieimagines A cocky bastard and a shy Reader, as far as I’m concerned that a one-way ticket straight to my heart. *wink wonk*.

(Un-Named) - One Shot - by @whirlybirbs Honestly, there are multiple fics of hers on this list, and that’s because she’s a damn fine writer, and her stories are just that addictive. This one is no different. I was preparing to read more and then it ended. But all good things, right?

Crash and Burn - One Shot - by @lilyswritings The angst, and the angst. I cry, you cry, everyone cries. Unfortunately there is only the one part, but much to my personal joy that means I can interpret the after-ending however I want!

Frank Castle

(Un-Named) - One Shot - by @alexsunmners This is just cute okay? I have no other words except this was plain and simply very, very, very nice to read, and that it makes me feel very soft right here on the inside.

Peter Parker

Super Smooth Genius - One Shot (?) - by whirlybirbs Back at it again with the cute, awkward, friendly, neighbourhood, Peter Parker.

Just Don’t - Soulmate AU! One Shot - by @papel-creativo What’d I tell you about soulmate au’s? I can’t resist them. And of course Pete being a caring bf with his hero s/o. So nice.

Ronan the Accuser

Make You Proud - One Shot - by @kayleighhalliday2203 This is justifiable because I was going through a Lee Pace faze and I found it and loved it immediately.

Ultron

(Un-Named) - One Shot / Series - by @snarky-badger This I can also justify having read, because (and if you know me then you know) the robot thing ... Doesn’t bother me as much as it should. And I binged all of it on ao3, so.

Poe Dameron

(Un-Named) - Masterlist - by propertyofpoeandbucky Okay, I know there’s a lot on this list, and it could take you a while to get through it all, but trust me - it’s worth it. Lani likes Poe, and it shows. He’s written so well.

Dashing - One Shot / Series ? - by whirlybirbs Birbs does it again. She’s got Punchy!Reader, and if there were a legal way to get all of this Poe thing down into a written book, I’d do it.

You Can See Me? - Modern / Ghost AU! One Shot - by @tintinwrites I just this this one’s really cool. And what Poe does for the reader at the end? So sweet! He would totally do that!

Across the Hall - Modern / Nurse AU! Series - by @starryeyedstories It’s cute, it’s fun, it’s got tension, and a little drama - plus a smidge of angst and Corgi!BB-8. If perfection were ever made into a Modern/Nurse au Poe fic - this would be it.

Deepest, Lightest Secrets - One Shot - by @writefightandflightclub It’s got the humour and overall feel you’d expect to come from something Star Wars related - honestly I had so much fun reading it, and I’ll happily do it again.

Levi Ackerman

Names for Him & You - One Shot - by @commanderserwin Again, op is one of my main sources for fic’s in this area - so there could be quite a few of them listed here. But this one? Cute as heck.

Levi’s Secret - Modern AU! One Shot - by @theamberwriter This one was damn funny in my opinion. Nothing can ever be hidden from Hange for long.

You Look So Beautiful In White - Modern AU! One Shot - by @alrightberries This fic, it carved out my heart, diced it, shoved it in a blender, then made it into an atomic bomb. I - I was not okay. That amount of angst shouldn’t be allowed. Read it.

Abeille - Modern / Mafia AU! Series - by @ackermans-freedom-inc Honestly, this isn’t finished yet but, honestly, I’m not ready for it to finish. The heartache. The betrayal. The child. I can’t even.

Lights - Modern AU! One Shot - by commanderserwin This was the first fic I ever read of op’s, and I couldn’t believe what I read so I went back and read it again. I can’t tell you how much I love it, or how I feel about it, so just go read for yourself and you’ll know.

To Build a Home - Modern AU! Series - by @vennilavee If you’re a fan of Levi, you must go read this. It’s so detailed, and just so perfect - whenever a new part comes out I have a quick reboot before going to read it.

Erwin Smith

One of Us - Modern AU! Miniseries - by commanderserwin I’m not going to lie, this one is here because I requested it, but also because I really liked it, and cried while reading it. So there.

Reiner Braun

Service to the Crown - Medieval AU! Miniseries - by @present-mel It should probably be illegal to write Reiner or Medieval au’s this well, and yet here op is writing both. Like, McScuse me, where do you acquire such talent and can I have some?

Toshinori Yagi

Flirting with All Might - One Shot - by @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten Toshi. The great. The hero. The awkward. He’s a blond boy doing what blond boys do even if he’s a little older he’s still part of the crew.

Stitches - Villain AU / Mini Series - by @itsallmightbitch Okay, so I said above that I wouldn’t put warnings on these - but this time I have to. Nothing I’ve read in my whole life emmits such an amount of pure horniness - and I love it.

Godless - Fantasy AU / One Shot - by @pleasantanathema Another ‘All Smite’ fic, yes, I know. But god. They’re so good. This one is another real horny one, so if you can’t tell there is a slight theme running here. And - sksksksks - this is actually from the same ‘general area’ as the Reiner fic listed above (Service to the Crown). There was a event. I read everything.

Keigo Takami

Preening - One Shot - by @shoutaaizawas Literally the softest and cutest damned thing I’ve read for Keigo. No, I’m not just ‘saying’ that, it’s genuine. The feelings I get - or lack thereof due to them turning to mush - it too much for words. Honest.

Seasonal Special - One Shot - by @keiqos I’ll say this now and I’ll say it first - any Hawks fics written by op are *chefs kiss*. They’re amazing. Secondly, rut!Hawks is my weakness - this fic is one of such weaknesses.

Shouto Aizawa

(Un-Named) - Series - by @theamberwriter This is *technically* the second part in the series, but it’s the only part I’ve read and goddamnit, I’m in love. Hubby Aizawa. The disappearing Baby-Zawa.

I Miss You Texts - SMAU - Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Koutarou, Nishinoya Yuu - by @briswriting I miss them too. They ain’t dead. I just feel like I haven’t seen them in so long.

Little Things - Headcanons - Karasuno - by @haikyuudreaming Every single one makes me feel so nostalgic, and I feel so much longing. I love. I loose. I pine. I want. And yet I cannot have. I only dream.

Cheerleader - Headcanons - Karasuno - by @imagine-101 I want to be their cheerleader. Now I am able to be. Op, many thanks for the feeding.

Tsukishima Kei

Cherry Wine - Single Parent AU! Series - by @bakugou-jpg I’m gonna head out and say that Tsukki was my first favourite Haikyuu character - then I ‘character developed’ but that only went so far as to give me more favorites. But deadass - read this and you won't regret it.

Ukai Keishin

(Un-Named) - Ballroom/Latin Dancer AU! Headcanons - by @imagine-that-haikyuu I know nothing about dancing. Or ballroom dancing. But I do know I’d love to dance with Ukai. So how’s that for ‘middle ground’?

#fic rec #masterlist #marvel x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #quentin beck x reader #stephen strange x reader #frank castle x reader #peter parker x reader #ronan x reader #ultron x reader #poe dameron x reader #levi ackerman x reader #erwin smith x reader #reiner braun x reader #karasuno x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #ukai keishin x reader

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starrypawz · 3 years

Note

!!!! HANDS 🥺 33 aaaaand 37 for Gerry? 🙏♥️

Hand Holding Prompts

(Two fics for the price of one) Gerry and Nemo shennagins with a bonus 'If somehow Nemo met Gertrude' thrown in.

33. bandaging the other’s hand and not quite letting go

Nemo’s hands are warmer than he’s expecting.

(Although he’s not sure why he’s expecting them to be cold).

Tries not to think about that too much, drums the fingers of his other hand against his thigh, tries to focus on a spot on the wall.

37. not realizing they’re holding hands till someone points it out

There’s a cafe.

There’s nothing remarkable about it, it’s the sort of cafe that exists in every town and city across the United Kingdom. There might be slight variations on a theme but they feature white plastic topped tables that never seem to be totally free of lingering coffee stains, and have a chance of being slightly wonky, menus on laminated plastic offering staples of British cuisine, most of which come with a side of chips, chunky white mugs.

bandaging the other’s hand and not quite letting go

Nemo’s hands are warmer than he’s expecting.

(Although he’s not sure why he’s expecting them to be cold).

Tries not to think about that too much, drums the fingers of his other hand against his thigh, tries to focus on a spot on the wall.

Nemo’s gentle, gentler than he’s expecting (But he’s not sure why he’d expect different). Bites his lip at the (overly familiar) sting of antiseptic against skin, swallows down a swear and tries to keep his focus on that spot on the wall.

Nemo’s thumb gently brushes over pale skin, long fingers topped with chipped, black nail polish. They try not to think about how slender his hands are. How they seem intended for much more delicate things than the various marks scattered across his hands hint at. Feels a little sour twist in their stomach if they think too hard about the potential causes as they catch the edge of a faded scar on his palm. Worries their lip as they try to only focus on clearing the blood and grime from his knuckles.

(Tries not to think about how warm his hands are, how small theirs look in comparison to his, how in another life, hopefully a better one these hands would only know soft touches, and how in this one how much they want to be the one to let those hands know some softness)

Gerry blinks, eyes drift from that spot on the wall, closes his eyes for a second. Fatigue gnaws at him, the circles under his eyes (the ones under the smudgy black eyeliner that he’s forgotten when exactly it went on but he knows is overdue for removal) will be even darker come tomorrow. He tries to focus back on the wall but fails, eyes drifting towards something more interesting.

Which means he’s now looking at Nemo, paying way too much attention to how they catch their lip and the concerned furrow of their brow as they work on his injured hand. And he starts getting stupid, sleepy thoughts involving his other hand (which is desperate for something to occupy itself) reaching out and tucking the lock of black, curly hair that’s fallen in front of their face behind their ear, let his fingertips just brush the shell of their ear, wonder for a brief, dumb moment just what would happen if they let their fingers brush the spot just under their ear, wonders if Nemo would tilt their head and let him continue his way down their neck, would they squirm if he reached the juncture between neck and shoulder?

“Looks worse than it is,” Nemo’s voice cuts through the late night silence between them just as his thoughts are wondering silly, sleepy things about how the buzzed side of their hair would feel under his fingertips but he barely registers it. He does register the reassuring, gentle squeeze that follows.

He settles for gripping the edge of the table for now. Watches as Nemo opens up an adhesive dressing and places it over his hand, tries not to think too much about the press of their thumbs as they ensure it stays in place. Thinks instead about the small mercy of them finding a Boots with a Midnight Pharmacy where the sudden appearance of two slightly battered Goths at an ungodly hour didn’t raise any eyebrows. And more importantly didn’t lead to any concerned calls towards police, ambulances or any number of other organisations that would’ve been overly concerned and asked too many questions.

He loses the touch of Nemo’s hands for a brief moment and it affects him more than he cares to admit. Watches as they carefully unwind the roll of gauze and then despite his best efforts feels himself jump as their thumb presses that sensitive, meaty part of his palm just next to his thumb.

Nemo stops suddenly, doesn’t let go, eyebrows raised in silent concern and he gives a nod of reassurance and tries not to start thinking stupid thoughts about stormy grey eyes as they get back to wrapping his hand. Nemo gently manipulating his wrist to get into the correct position.

“All done,” Nemo’s voice barely registering again.

Gerry looks down at his bandaged hand, turns it this way and that. By this point he’s far too familiar with how professional wound care looks.

“You’re… good at this,” Gerry breaks the silence, just barely. As if there’s some holiness associated with this shade of silence that comes with being awake at an ungodly hour and to interrupt it is blasphemy.

Nemo’s still holding his hand, thumbs barely brushing a chipped, black nail polish covered nail, looks up and those stormy grey eyes meet his pale blue.

Nemo clears their throat, looks at him and then away briefly as if embarrassed before looking back.

“I… there was a point I wanted to be a nurse-”

not realizing they’re holding hands till someone points it out

There’s a cafe.

Sort of place that typically attracts ‘salt of the earth’ labourer types, school kids playing it loose with what time they actually arrive at school, overly nosy gaggles of ‘bubbly’ women, young mothers with prams catching up with other mothers. Sort of place run by a solid, sensible sort of person, broad smiling and prone to calling people ‘Love’.

And the ever present scent of fried food that depending on circumstances is either enticing or nauseating. And as Gerry realises today unfortunately it’s leaning more towards the nauseating. (Seems he’s not quite shaken that last brush with The Corruption)

Utterly unremarkable, which probably makes the presence of an elderly British woman and two Goths stand out like a sore thumb.

He does wonder what people see if they look over at the table, he’s had enough moments where people have assumed Gertrude his is mother and even a few times assumed grandmother (Which Gertrude seems less impressed by when that happens) and even a few where the pair of them have played into that assumption.

Do they see a prim and proper British mother with her Goth son and what he knows people will assume is partner? Maybe if this was a more upmarket cafe people would wonder if it was a meeting between a University Professor and two of their postgraduate students.

Either way, in a fairly unremarkable cafe sits an elderly British woman and two goths with two cups of tea (Gertrude’s a step or two down from builder’s tea with one sugar, Nemo’s an altogether milkier and sweeter affair and Gerry’s a coffee, black as humanely possible).

Gerry takes a sip of his coffee, prays it will do something for the nausea.

On the surface, the meeting has been polite enough. Gertrude hasn’t come over as across as anything other than a polite well to do academic and Nemo has been ‘polite but closed off’. But Gerry is far too used to reading situations for potential conflict and can pick up on the tension that’s not unlike two unfamiliar cats meeting in an alley who are deciding if they’re going to fight.

And it’s making his already grumbling stomach complain even more.

He takes another sip of coffee, a little too much in one go, too warm, too bitter all at once and manages not to splutter as he swallows it down.

He’s suddenly aware of that creeping ‘eyes on the back of his neck’ sensation that has Gertrude’s own particular signature to it. Not so much ‘overly nosy gossip’ like the group of women clustered around a table in the corner who are talking and downright cackling way too loudly for this time in the morning. It’s more in the vein of ‘stern schoolteacher who just caught you passing notes in the back of the class’ (not that he really knows what that feels like).

He doesn’t say anything but looks up from his coffee, Gertrude is writing some notes, looks up for a moment and Gerry meets her eyes with a look that with a dose of adolescent petulance he’s far too old for says an indignant ‘What?’

Gertrude says nothing but her expression changes to a slightly too smug knowing smile. One that somehow comes across a little too soft, even maternal.

And that’s when Gerry realises Nemo’s hand has sought his out under the table, he can feel the brush of fishnet gloves against his palms, lithe fingers wound carefully with his. He can also feel the tension that’s running from Nemo’s shoulder and pressing against his hand as they squeeze. Any harder and he’s sure Nemo will start vibrating.

Shit

He tries to relax, allows his thoughts to unwind a little, tries to channel his own tension down through his body and through his toes into the floor and it almost works. He feels Nemo’s tension lessen a little and breathes a silent sigh of relief.

He maintains eye contact with Gertrude the whole time, it’s only a brief few seconds but it feels like an age. He can’t quite read her expression, amusement? It seems like she’s vaguely amused. Approval? No he wouldn’t go that far.

Fuck…

Oh Fuck

She thinks… oh shit no she thinks this is adorable

Fuuuuuck

He realises Nemo’s wrapped their foot around the back of his calf, more grounding, For them? For Him? Both he’s not sure. Either way it does lessen the sensation of wanting to sink through the cafe floor.

Despite his best efforts his cheeks flush red. Gives Nemo’s hand a reassuring squeeze. Gertrude breaks their eye contact going back to asking Nemo another question seemingly innocent to any curious bystander but actually hinting at something much deeper.

#tma #the magnus archives #gerard keay #gerry keay #gertrude robinson #tma nemo

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let-it-raines · 3 years

Text

Walking the Baseline (Year: 2015)

Summary: This should be the happiest he’s been in years, but it’s not. He and Emma already had wildly different schedules, but now that she’s no longer on tour, it feels like they barely see each other. When they do, it’s for a day here, a week there, two if they’re lucky. That’s no way to live when his girlfriend is carrying their baby and freaking out about it more than he is.

If only he could have a bloody break from tennis to focus on his personal life for once.

He’s got to be careful what he asks for.

Rating: Teen +

a/n: Hello again! I know these have been slow going, but I’m here with another installment! This may or may not be the last one. I haven’t decided on that yet, so we’ll see what happens there as I know there are many more things that could be told in this universe but don’t know how much motivation I have to write them 😘

ao3: 2012 | 2013 | 2014 | 2015 (CURRENT) | 2016 (original one-shot) |

-/-

November 2014.

Shit.

“This is bad,” Rob says from across the room, as if that isn’t the most obvious bit of information on the planet right now. “What are you going to do, mate?”

He wants to do a myriad of things, but he can’t right now.

“Play my match and then call Emma and make sure she’s okay.” Killian shrugs and bends down at the knees to squat against the wall. He hits the timer on his phone for a minute, and he tries to focus on that instead of the news Ariel just texted him.

He’s not doing great at that. All these years of being able to block life out before a match have suddenly deteriorated.

“Do you want to call her now?” Robin prods.

“She won’t answer if I call now. Watch.” Killian exits out of the timer and hits Emma’s number on his phone. It rings and rings and rings, and she never answers. He stands from his squat and tries again. Still, no answer. “Emma, darling,” he speaks into the phone, “I’m about to play, so I can’t talk to you anytime soon. I love you. Everything is alright, yeah? We knew this was going to happen at some point, but I’m sorry it happened this way. I’ll call you as soon as I can. You and the babe stay safe, alright?”

“Do you think that’s going to do any good?”

“No,” Killian answers honestly, “it’s not. She’s going to be freaking the hell out, and nothing is going to calm her down, certainly not me.”

He thumbs through his phone once more, looking through his texts and clicking on the links Ariel sent him. It’s pictures of Emma in her neighborhood, which is supposed to be private. That is a lie, though, because someone managed to take pictures of Emma walking to get her mail, her clothes tight enough that the roundness of her stomach is obvious, especially compared to how she usually looks.

It’s not good. Not good at all.

After the US Open, Emma stopped playing, telling the WTA she was out for the rest of the season on injury. A few people know because of how often Emma has to get drug tested, but it’s all been a well-kept secret.

That is no longer true.

Bloody hell.

“Mr. Jones,” the tournament director says when he pokes his head in the warm-up room, “it’s time to go.”

“Aye, I’ll be right there.” He stands from his squat and stretches out his legs, jumping up and down a few times before grabbing his racket bag from the floor. “Rob, get Ariel to try calling Emma while I’m playing. She’s more likely to talk to her than any of us.”

“I’ll try.” Rob nods and claps his hand over Killian’s back. “Good luck in your match. I know it’s a rubber, but don’t be a loser.”

Killian blows air out of his nose with his laugh. “I’ll try not to be a loser. My fucking motto for life.”

-/-

Killian isn’t a loser that day, but he is out of the tournament. He hates the season-ending final, how it’s a round robin event. He lost the same amount of matches as the man who got to advance to the semi-finals but because he lost three more games, he’s packing his bags to go home.

(Though, he didn’t hate it when he won it years ago, but now is not the time to think of his own hypocrisy.)

To his home here in London, half an hour away from the tournament, instead of back in America with Emma. It’s been odd staying here for the past two weeks. For so long, he was used to living here alone. Sure, Ariel and Rob would pop in, especially after Milah, but it was his home. It was a place to sleep and shower and watch television between having to constantly be on the road and in the air. Then Emma came along and though she’s here less frequently, she’s made her mark.

Some of her clothes litter his closet, her mugs fill his cabinets, blankets she has bought are in the baskets in his den. She hasn’t been here since mid-September when they needed to get away for a little while, but she’s still everywhere. Killian has been finding her bobby pins in his carpet the entire time he’s been here.

The only thing of Emma’s that isn’t here is Emma.

The sun has set outside, darkness taking over, and though it’s past midnight in America, Killian presses Emma’s name on his phone as he sets the timer on the oven for his dinner.

“Hello?”

“Now, tell me why you’ll answer your phone at one in the morning but not during daylight hours?”

“Because I’m a stubborn ass with no real sense of time.”

Killian huffs and moves to his living room, plopping down on the couch. “Now, I thought that was me.”

“It is. We both are. It’s why we’re dating.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“Well, I could say other things, but I’m trying to work on my dirty jokes, trying to say fewer of them.”

“Oh, you should never do that. I like when you’re dirty.” Emma’s silent on the other end of the line, and Killian waits for her to speak, to make another joke, to ask him if he could litter this conversation with innuendos. When she doesn’t, he decides it’s better to bite the bullet now than to drag it out. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I want to change what I was wearing to get the mail this morning,” Emma says through gritted teeth. “I don’t know how I could have been so damn stupid.”

“It’s a private area. You thought you were safe. It’s understandable, love. Don’t beat yourself up about it. You were going to have to tell everyone eventually.”

“Eventually being the key word.” She whistles, and if he had to guess, she’s sitting in bed with a tub of icing in her lap and one of her favorite shows on the television. She’ll beat herself up about the icing tomorrow even if she shouldn’t. “Mary Margaret took my phone for a little while so I couldn’t check anything online. That’s why I didn’t answer you when you called earlier. It’s been…a day. I’m sorry you didn’t make it to the semi-finals.”

“Yeah, me too,” he tells her, allowing himself to wallow for a moment. “I get to come home to you sooner, though.”

“I’ve saved the tree for you to help me put up. And Mary Margaret has started on the sides for Thanksgiving. There’s going to be so much food for you to pig out on before off-season training starts.”

He can hear the smile now. Good.

“There’s nothing I’m looking forward to more. I’ve heard there’s such a thing as a dad bod, and I fully intend on getting one this holiday season.”

Emma blows air out her nose. “You and I both know that’s not true. You’re too vain for that.”

“I am devilishly handsome, aren’t I?”

“I’ll let you keep thinking that. Killian?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine. I mean, I’ll be fine. This entire…situation has sucked, but I’m slowly coming around to it. What happens, happens, and I’ll deal with it. If I can get through half the things I’ve gotten through, I can get through a human being growing inside of me and the world knowing about it. I think the hardest part is how bored I am. Do you have any idea what it’s like to constantly be on the move and then for it to suddenly stop?”

“No, I don’t.” He pulls a blanket over his lap to warm him. “I hope I never find out.”

“I hope you don’t either.” Emma yawns, and the corners of Killian’s lips tug up. Maybe this means she’ll try to sleep instead of staying up worrying all night. “I think I’m going to go to sleep. Or at least try.”

“Goodnight, Swan. I love you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

-/-

Killian gets two weeks off in Florida for Thanksgiving and to have a break from training. It’s lovely to do nothing if only for a moment (he would be horrible having to take the extended break like Emma) and to spend it with Emma and her family, but then it’s back to practice and tweaking his game during the off-season.

Rob and Nemo work him harder than they ever have, bemoaning him about his slow legs and his age – he’s nearly twenty-nine, which was once considered ancient in his sport – but he keeps pushing through. Hours are spent on the court and in the gym, and the rest of his days are spent with Emma, going on walks and watching TV in their house. She’s still practicing and going to the gym, even if those are modified to how they were before, and if Killian closes his eyes, it’s almost like normal.

But then, slowly, December passes, Christmas lights everywhere fading a little every day, and Killian is packing several suitcases for the month he’s going to spend in Australia. Three years ago, Australia is where it all began for them, and it’s odd to be going without Emma.

She’s made a rule that most of their conversations have to be about things other than the baby. Part of it is because Mary Margaret overloaded Emma with baby talk. It was constantly about names and clothing and what color the nursery should be painted. If it wasn’t that, it was book after book about pregnancy, hormone changes, and the many processes that happen when giving birth.

Even for Killian, who isn’t particular about medical procedures, that was too much. He loves Mary Margaret as much as Emma does, and while she’s great most of the time, it all has been a little much.

The media attention has been too.

Thus, Emma’s rules. Their lives are supposed to go on as normal with the occasional conversation about the baby, usually when it’s absolutely necessary or when it’s late at night and they’re in bed or lounging on the couch watching TV and Killian’s hand finds Emma’s ever-growing stomach.

He thinks that’s what’s so bloody difficult for him as he zips up his suitcase. He’s going to be gone for a month, and in that month, everything can and will change.

Killian is missing seeing his child grow and missing being with his girlfriend, and as much as he loves what he does, as passionate as he is about having the fucking best job in the world, he would trade it all to not have to give up so much of their lives.

Emma would never let him.

She’d slap him if she knew he was even having these thoughts.

“Do you like this jacket?” Emma asks as she shuffles through their closet next to him. “I mean, I like that it’s red, but do you think it’s too bold?”

Killian turns and looks, glancing up and down at Emma. “I like the red leather.”

Emma nods and smiles, looking at herself in the mirror and tugging the coat over her stomach. “One day again, it’ll zip up.” She rolls her eyes and then begins to take it off, but Killian stops and walks toward her, running his fingers over the lapels until she’s flush against him.

“One day,” he echoes before dipping his head to her neck and running his lips across her jaw, “but for now, I think it’s fine to not have you covered up.”

Emma cranes her neck and makes a nose he’s going to memorize and take with him all the way to Australia. “That was a horrible line. You need to be a better flirt. This isn’t working for me at all.”

His hand falls from her shoulder and slowly makes its way to her ass before he has a firm grip. She makes that noise again, and Killian smirks against her neck.

“Well,” he drawls, making his accent as thick as he can as he nibbles at her ear, “I have forty-five minutes before I have to go. What do you say I use about fifteen of those focusing on you?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Oh, absolutely. I want to take in as much of you as I can while I can.”

“Dirty,” he whispers in her ear before kissing her and walking her out of the closet and back to the bedroom.

-/-

January 2015.

ES: Good luck today, babe! Or tomorrow. I’m not really sure what time it is in Australia, but I do know I will not be awake for your match.

Killian laughs at his phone. He’s been here three weeks, and Emma still hasn’t gotten the time difference down. He figured she wouldn’t be too bad with it since she makes this trip every year, but according to David, he changed all of Emma’s clocks and she never really knows the difference after the first two days.

It’s technically yesterday afternoon back home, or at least it was when she sent this, and he texts her back, thanking her and promising to call after his practice.

He’s got the first night session match in RLA tonight for his quarterfinal match, and if that weren’t three in the morning back home, he knows Emma would be up for it.

He wouldn’t ask anyone to be awake at that ungodly hour for him.

“Have you finished your hair yet?” Ariel asks.

She’s sitting on his bed in his hotel room, has been for an hour even though he definitely did not invite her over, and he’s had to listen to her rambling about sponsorship pitches and contract negotiations and all the things he hates the entire time. So he’s spending a little extra time messing with his hair and shaving his beard. She’s used to this, of course, and probably knows the exact amount of time it’ll take him to get ready better than he does.

“Not quite, love.”

“You know you’re going to put it under a hat and get it all sweaty, right? It doesn’t matter what it looks like.”

Killian shakes his head and puts his razor down before walking out of the bathroom to peek his head over at Ariel. “Are you really that bored that you can’t find something else to do other than bother me?”

She sits up and props herself on her elbows, her red hair flowing down her back, but a small bit gets stuck in her eye. She quickly blows it off. “It’s a big match day, and you’re nervous. I’ve been sent here to keep you occupied so you can’t think about how nervous you are or how much you miss Emma or how much you want to write an entire book of poetry about how much you love her.”

“I have never said that last part,” he counters.

“But you’ve thought it, Mr. Darcy. You and your big ole heart and your obsession with your girlfriend and your baby.”

Killian chuckles and leans against the wall. He crosses his arms over his chest and arches a brow. “Am I not supposed to be in love with my girlfriend and our child?”

Ariel shrugs. “I just think that for someone who loves a woman that much, there might be a ring and a question rattling around somewhere.”

His eyes roll, and outwardly, he deals with the question with annoyance. Inwardly, his heart quickens and he thinks some things he’s been trying not to.

Some things that, well, shake him to his core and make his breathing a little more difficult than normal.

He and Emma have talked about marriage, but it’s always been brief, seemingly inconsequential. It’s something they’d consider a long way down the road, maybe when their lives are normal, when they can profess their love to each other without any professional blowbacks.

With how the game is progressing and how long players are starting to play now, and more than just the top guys, he doesn’t know when that’ll be.

Killian loves Emma. Emma loves him. They’ve both made each other better people and committed to each other and to their unborn daughter, and Killian doesn’t see that ever changing, marriage license or not.

“A,” he whispers, his fingers tapping over his bicep, “Whatever happens with us is as much up to Emma as it is to me. We like how things are now, and I can write a book of poetry on our love no matter if she is my wife or not.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just want to go to that wedding. I feel like it would be the party of a lifetime.”

“Tell you what, I’ll take you to the party of a lifetime when I win this damn tournament. We’ll go clubbing like we both don’t go to bed for ten when we can.”

Ariel winks. “You’ve got yourself a deal. Now, come on, we’ve got things to do, and you’re making us late with all your unnecessary primping.”

“Because I’m that damn good-looking and should accentuate it when I can.”

Ariel rises from the bed wand comes over to pat his shoulder. “Whatever you tell yourself to sleep that night.”

-/-

Killian runs through his practice with ease, and he feels good. He’s seeing the ball clearly, doesn’t feel any aches in his body, and though his opponent has handed Killian’s ass to him on a silver platter many times, he’s feeling good about tonight.

Until he isn’t.

It’s the second set when it happens.

Killian is up a set and has two break points to solidify a lead when he’s running down a forehand and loses his footing on the court. His ankle is the first thing to twist, and before he can think, he’s propelling forward toward the ground.

For the entirety of his life, Killian has been told not to fall on his wrists. It’s the first thing any athlete learns. Hell, it’s the first thing anyone learns, but instinct takes over him in that moment. He’s trying to keep from landing flat on his face, and so he lands on his left wrist.

His fucking left wrist, which has caused him trouble his entire career.

Now, though, as he sits on his courtside chair and the tournament medical examiner touches him, he knows this is worse than any injury he’s had in the past.

Fucking hell, he has to pull out of the tournament.

He doesn’t know if he’s going to be able to play for the rest of the season.

Shit.

Should have fallen on his face and knocked out his teeth. He could still play with no teeth.

-/-

“It’s a fracture,” a doctor tells him that night as he sits in a hospital bed in nothing but one of those awful paper gowns. “You’ll want to consult with your physicians back in Britain, but I’d say a ten-week recovery at the least, six months at most.”

“That’s not exactly a short time span,” Killian grumbles. “You can’t give me something more exact?”

He shrugs. “I think it’ll most likely be about three months for you, but you won’t know until you start playing again. It’s more the rehab than the recovery that I would worry about.”

“Thank you, Dr. Weissman,” Rob tells the doc, dismissing him before Killian can take the piss out of the man for doing his job. Dr. Weissman nods and leaves the room, and all that’s left are Killian, Rob, and Ariel. Nemo is back at the hotel, probably watching the video of Killian ruining their season over and over again. “How are you feeling, Jones?”

“Just peachy,” he lies, flashing them his brightest smile before it falls. He pushes his hair back and yanks at the strands, pulling hard enough for it to hurt. “Fuck.”

What has he done to himself?

People are playing longer now, but what if he isn’t one of those? What if this is the injury that begins the slow deterioration of his career? The one that whittles him away from a great player to a star trying too hard to hang onto his shine?

He hates himself for even thinking that because it’s conceited and self-loathing and all the other things he’s tried not to be lately. He was the one who had to talk Emma through something similar, to tell her that the pregnancy wouldn’t be the end of her career, that one day she’d be standing at the top of the podium again with a shiny trophy in hand.

It all felt so convincing when he was telling her that.

But he’s also an asshole who can seldom take his own advice.

And what Emma is going through is much harder than what he is, so how dare he even compare the two situations?

Seriously.

Fuck.

-/-

February 2015.

David picks him up at the airport in Florida, but it could have been a stranger and Killian wouldn’t know the difference. He’s been moping on a plane for twenty-four hours and doesn’t notice much of anything.

That is until he walks in the front door of his home and is wrapped in the tightest embrace he’s ever felt. Emma, like always, smells of vanilla and flowers, and he inhales her scent. It’s been a month without it, and he never wants to lose it again. Her hand comes into his hair, scratching down to his skull, and she pulls him as close as possible, her stomach pressed between them. She’s seven months along now, was six when he left, and the difference feels almost impossible to describe.

He tries not to think of all he’s missed, not when he’s back in her arms once more.

What a beautiful place to be.

He’s thought that his world was falling apart, that he had no control over anything, and it was one disaster after another.

As his uninjured arm run up and down Emma’s back and he continues to breathe in her scent and her warmth, he’s reminded that his world, the most important one, is more solid than it’s been since he lost Liam.

If his brother could see him in this moment, even when his mind and body are at low points, Killian would hope that Liam would be proud of Killian’s accomplishments instead of disappointed in Killian’s failures.

“I missed you,” Emma whispers against his cheek.

“I missed you, too, Swan. You have no idea how much.”

“Are you okay?”

“I will be.” His hand comes to rest in her ponytail. “I promise I will be.”

-/-

The world seems to stop for the both of them, and it’s not just because Killian spends his first week at home moping in bed, watching more TV than he has in years. Emma joins him, lounging with her legs crossed over his, basically using his body to make herself comfortable when her back is sore, and if it weren’t for food delivery services, they likely wouldn’t eat. Well, at the very least, they wouldn’t eat any proper meals. Emma’s doctor wouldn’t like that.

Killian’s doctor, on the other hand, has encouraged him to stay active but to rest his wrist. He’s not supposed to pick up a racket except to lightly hit a few forehands, and he definitely isn’t supposed to do any weight work in the gym lest he wants his arms to become horribly unbalanced.

It’s a change in lifestyle, and Killian hates it.

He obviously still hates himself because he spends a hell of a lot of time online looking at articles and tweets about the Australian Open. Half of them are about him, half are about the eventually winners, and a small sprinkling are about how Emma couldn’t defend her title because of her pregnancy.

That sends him into another spiral, and in the darkness of their bedroom, he reads article after article about how Emma Swan will never come back to the game, about how she’s ruined her career, about how if she does come back, she shouldn’t have a protected ranking because pregnancy is not an injury and does not merit any help in building back a ranking.

Absolute bullshit.

How is the WTA the largest sports organization for women and yet it has no pregnancy protections for its players?

That sets him off more than anything else, and as Killian reads article after article and tweet after tweet, and he hopes to God that Emma hasn’t spent her nights reading this like he has.

What kind of darkness has he stumbled into, and how does he get out of it?

“Get up.”

Killian groans and rolls over, burying his face in his pillow and trying to go back to the sleep he didn’t know he’d fallen into. His head is screaming at him.

“KJ, get up.” He feels Emma’s hands on him, shaking his shoulders, but he ignores her. The last thing he wants to do is open his eyes and get out of bed. “My water broke.”

He immediately flips over and sits up, staring at Emma who is standing over the bed with her arms crossed over her chest. “Are you serious? What are you doing just standing there? Have you called your doctor? It’s too soon for your water to have broken.”

Her eyes roll. “My water did not break. It’s noon, and you’re still in bed. Get up.”

“Now, that’s just cruel. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I didn’t expect for you to be coherent enough to really listen.” Emma sits down on the edge of the bed and leans in to kiss his cheek and brush his hair back. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“Now I’m never going to believe you if you tell me your water has broken.”

Emma shrugs. “Next time I say it, I promise I will mean it.” Her hands wander down his side, moving over his collarbones and through tufts of hair on his chest. She’s always fond of doing that. “Look, I get the moping and the internet doom scrolling. I’ve been through that, and I support you doing whatever you need to do.”

“I feel like there’s a but coming.”

“But,” Emma continues, “this baby girl is coming in two months, possibly less, and I don’t know if you’ve looked in the nursery since you got home, but it’s all boxes and disassembled furniture.”

“You didn’t get to all that while I was gone?” She yanks on his hair, and he grits his teeth to keep from yelping. “Only teasing, love.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t get to it. All of this baby stuff freaks me out and after putting together one railing for the crib and having a hormonal meltdown because I didn’t want it to be my fault if the crib fell apart while she was sleeping in it, I stopped. Figured it’d be better if you were here.”

“So that it’d be my fault if the crib fell apart?”

“Exactly.” She tilts her head toward the bedroom door. “I made you coffee, so get your ass out of bed and lend me a hand.”

He raises his broken, wrapped up wrist. “Was that pun intended?”

“Believe it or not, no.” She leans in to kiss his cheek once more. “I’m not going to kick you while you’re down.”

“You’re just going to kick me out of bed.”

“Exactly.”

His legs slowly drag him out of bed and to the kitchen, where he takes the pain medication he’s allowed to take, downs some water, and drinks his coffee. It’ll be awhile before the caffeine and medication kick in, so he tries to blink himself awake to get rid of the sleepiness and the pain.

It doesn’t work.

He does, however.

Emma’s been up for awhile and has moved all the boxes in the nursery into their own sections. It’s just as chaotic as it was before, but it at least looks a little more put together. Killian settles down in front of the crib, reads through the instructions, and he starts piecing things together while Emma works on the dresser. She flits around the room, helping him when he needs it, and as much as he’d like to say they finish quickly, they don’t. It takes them all morning just to do those two pieces of furniture and for him to fix the roller on the glider, and he’s exhausted.

Maybe he can convince Emma to take a nap with him later.

After he exercises. He has to move a little today. His body hasn’t been this stiff on a non-tournament day in ages.

Okay, so maybe nap first, then exercise. That sounds like a better plan.

“What the bloody hell is this doing in here?” Killian asks. He bends down and picks up Emma’s gold medal, dangling it on his arm, which is a much safer space than the floor under a stack of books where it was.

“Oh, yeah,” Emma hums, “Mary Margaret wanted me to display that in here.”

“Why?”

“Well, she wanted me to put some of my trophies in here, but I said that was weird and probably a little dangerous. But then she suggested we do, like, this little wall collage of some things about us for her. That’s the achievement I’m proudest of, at least professionally, and I figured it would be kind of badass for my kid to know her mom was an Olympian.”

“Is,” Killian corrects while he walks toward Emma and tucks some strands of hair behind her ear. “Her mom is an Olympian. Present tense.”

Emma shakes her head and looks away, eyelids covering those beautiful green eyes of hers. “Was. I don’t know if I’ll ever get back to competition, Killian. I’ve been reading what exactly my body is going to go through, which, big mistake by the way, and I don’t know how I’m going to get back into competition shape to work my way back up to the top. I spent most of my life conditioning my body to be an athlete. I don’t think it knows how to be a mom and an athlete.”

“You’re always going to be an Olympian and an athlete,” he promises, meaning every word, “and it’s not going to be easy getting back. The cards are fucking stacked against you. But if there’s anyone who can persevere through hardship, it’s you. And me and the babe will be right here with you.”

“Except you’ll probably be back on tour traveling again. Hopefully your wrist will be healed soon, way before she comes.”

Killian leans forward and dips his head down to rest his forehead against Emma’s. “I’m staying with the two of you for as long as I can. Can’t get rid of me that easily, Swan. You’re stuck with me for life.”

“That isn’t as appealing sounding as you think it is.”

Killian tilts his head back with laughter before kissing Emma’s temple. He still hasn’t brushed his teeth this morning and has some major coffee breath. He’s surprised she hasn’t kicked him out of the house yet. She surely will if he attempts to kiss her.

“Let’s install these shelves and then go take a nap, yeah? Get rid of all our fears for a little while with sleeping. Maybe we’ll even go for a walk tonight since the neighborhood is now extra secure.”

“Sounds like a plan, KJ. Oh,” Emma gasps, moving away from him and reaching into a basket to pull out an old book. “I meant to tell you this, but I was shopping for books online and I found one from when I was a kid. I used to read it in the foster system, and I don’t know, it would bring me comfort. I thought maybe it would be a good name for her.”

She hands him the book, and he looks over the cover, reading the words written in large print.

“Olivia,” he whispers, sounding out the name on his tongue. “Olivia Swan-Jones.”

He can’t wait to meet her.

And he can’t wait for her to see what a badass her mom is, and how Emma is definitely going to stand at the top of that podium again.

Hopefully he is too.

-/-

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#walking the baseline #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #captain swan fic #captain swan fanfic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfiction #Captain Swan

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katewaliss · 3 years

Text

! write with me or fight with me!

you either die by my sword or the most painful head canons imaginable! *merida vc* choose yer fate

just kidding!

hey there gaymers, i am crissy! i am 22, live in pst, go by she/her pronouns and honestly would very much like a distraction from life -- preferably in the form of 1x1 and rp in general. i am currently doing online school plus trying/failing at adulting, being a crazy pink haired college student living on microwave dimsum with my crazy fluffy demon cat, but that still leaves me with a lot of time and what better way to spend that time then crying and dying, am i right, boys?

so without further ado ( adieu? idk gusundheit ) here are a list of discomboblulated plot things that have been floating around in my head that i might be fun to do ( plot fragments, ideas, ocs, fcs i like, settings, genres etc )! i’d prefer a message if u liked any of these in the inbox or dm form, my tumblr ims are open and my discord user is mr. worldwide#2918 ( pitbull supremacy ) but if ur shy i will message u and be annoying!

lastly: i prefer hcing in the dms to replies, however i will do replies/ask memes slowly, i don’t really like making blogs and prefer google docs/discord and i ask ( gently and respectfully ) that minors do not interact.

thank u and happy hunger games! xx

COLLEGE TOTALLY SPIES -- i was really obsessed with this picture right here and i thought that the picture would be a good premise for a little four person group based on totally spies. i was thinking that these three college students/young adults some friends maybe not some enemies or just on completely different ends of the social agenda get bonded together when they accidentally end up roped in a top secret spy organization that is fronted by a record store. the details and flesh of the plot i think would be cute to figure out all together maybe in a google doc or a big discord so we can make the rp to perfect world building specifications. right now i have two spots open!

my friend lexi over at comradc has taken the cool goth asian girl and is using lyrica okano

i am playing the freckly backwards hat lesbian in the red polo named aj mccallis and i think im using diana silvers ( not sure might switch to tati rodriguez )

we also have the cute blond girl w the dyed hair who is giving me kind of like sydney sweeney energies, blonde girl maybe like lalisa manoban/jinsoul,

and we have the rad black girl with the bandids who i would only accept black fcs for for such as diamond white, ryan destiny, salem mitchell,

i’d prefer if this stayed kind of sapphic and female and enby friendly. we can def make make npcs and characters but i’d prefer if the characters looked like they do in the picture ( minus the white girls who can be racebent as long as there are vibes ) mostly bc i want the poc people to stay the correct poc! but yeah! if u like this message me specifically!!!!! seperately and hit me w a role ud like maybe an fc an idea anything < 3 im working on a google doc and discord sever

- i really want to play a himbo skater boy evan mock like its my dream i know nothing abt him other than he probably goes by something like mouth or juice or tris or dex or dante but !!!! he has buzzed hair he buzzes designs into, does stick n pokes, hates cops, will kiss anyone, likes to mosh at house shows, smokes a lot and sounds like crush from finding nemo, probably ur parents worst nightmare if im honest rodrick heffley energy -- adopt him for any plot

- i also really am obsessed with simay barlas who is my mascot rn -- i want to play her in some sort of dark academia setting with like gossip girl blair waldorf energies lu from elite and have her be really mean and cold and pretentious and play the cello and probably have secrets and be uptight idk the name mallory is resonating hard w me ( we could even do a gossip girl the secret history type group if people liked that )

-ok i also really really want to play streak aka silas montgomery who is like very like sidekick best friend to the golden boy main character, does a kick ass goat impression, class clown, relentlessly hits on like the most difficult person in school, does crazy things for laughs and attention, just wants to make people happy, only wears hawaiian shirts, finger guns, is going nowhere in life, his dad is probably the dean at whatever prestigious school also he is very very depressed and drinks often! love u! a I Feel Like Im The Worst So I Always Act Like Im The Best electra heart baby PINTEREST

also yes his hair is pink reg verse he did it on a dare but hp verse he did a potion wrong and it never came out

SOMEONE DO A LADY HANNIBAL WILL GRAHAM RP KILLING EVE RP W ME! i made this will graham adjacent gal for a genderbent hannigram rp her name is bisexual disaster enida johnson and sometimes goes by needy or will bc her middle name is willamena! has basically all the will things wears flannels is a mess but has a bunch of cats instead of dogs in her woods log cabin and im using crystal reed bc it fits perfect in my head idk if u like her hmu hit me w a lady hannibal PINTEREST

other stuff

ok i really want to do a princess and knight plot but with knight zendaya and princess anya taylor joy ???? ALKHALKSHALK LITERALLY HELLO literally modern or like dnd style i do not care but know i love dnd! we could make it like them goin on some skyrim quests like hi

speaking of dnd and skyrim if anyone wants to do like anything based in dnd stuff or skyrim stuff i am DOWN

jennifers body plot!!!! maybe set in college!!!!! sounds spicy i will do a f/f or m/m version leggo leggo

UNTIL DAWN UNTIL DAWN!!!! i wanted to do a little like 6 person or mumu until dawn thing where everyone either makes new characters or characters based on the existing six! i made a girl adjacent josh character named riley PINTEREST who i love very much ( fc might change im thinking maybe medallion rahimi ) pls hmu if ur down

i looooooove breakfast at tiffanys!!!! like i really love breakfast at tiffanys we love a call girl broody author ship and i want to play a mishti rahman holly golightly type character so so bad

pygmalion plot!!! basically like an author and the main character of their book comes to life and the book character is probably from a different period of time or realm so doesnt know how to do modern 2020 stuff like microwaves and the tv! and then maybe they get sucked into the characters book world thats written by the author and have to navigate that! enchanted! w the kdrama! energy!

GOSSIP GIRL PLOT ENERGIES

any sort of the secret history murder society until dawn ahs horror type setting i am on a kick rn

i still really want a deaf sailor and siren plot bc that is so spicy or even like anything involving sirens like maybe one thats like vegetarian and doesnt like to eat humans so it ariel rescues one and keeps it safe!! or like only men are susceptible to the sirens song but aha! i am a woman! Romance!

anything in the realm of percy jackson i love mythology lets go i kind of want a echo narcisuss plot and i want it to hurt me so bad

i will do harry potter stuff but only if its completely removed from the current canon like years in the future no existing families also maybe beauxbatons salem and drumstrang plots bc thats what matters

iiiiiiiii really like anime so i will do anything kakegurui, soul eater, ohshc

i kind of like grew up on the hunger games so i will gladly take any hunger games plots like young effie and haymitch is spicy or like a career tribute and one of the weaker poorer distracts enemies to lovers leggo

i have a kind of oc that had their parents die in a factory gas leak that was the governments fault and it turned them into a vigilante assasin that is slowly picking off bootlicker government people one by one pretending to be one of them until bam! gets attached to the rich asshole son or daughter of the head hauncho or one of the higher ups ... drama

rich little celebrity fussy wussy being held captive by the mafia and the tired stoic mafia guard but they fall in love

i kind of like any plot that involves one person that is really loud or angry or dramatic or whiny and the other one is kind of sweet and gentle or does not talk much idk make brain happy

speaking of!

no nonsense law student studying abroad in a european country and an artist there falls in love w them and is all romantic and gush and is like ur my muse!!! and they are like Go awAy and they explore the city together and themelseves its nice!

i want to be an avan jogia super villain idk why i need to but i do

not to be a disney adult bc i am not but anastasia princesses dont kiss kitchen boys

rival cheer captians? best friends brother? pop princess celebrity singer and like antiestablishment really angry rockstar in a publicity relationship? broody detective and sunshiney diner person that works at the diner they eat at everyday?

idk i will think of more hmu these can all be made f/f or m/m if they arent

#1x1 #1x1 rp #1x1 roleplay #plots #this is so long and messy and weird idk it repeats a lot hit me up im emabrrassed already

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stxrmapper · 2 years

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Reaching out a hand towards the Warlock as he left, Scout quickly pulled it back toward himself. Once the door was closed, he sunk down to his knees, hitting the floor with a metallic clank. What had he done? It was his fault. All of this was. He wished he could go back, maybe punch his older version in the face whilst he was at it. What could he even do to fix this? Scout didn't remember the feelings that had started this.

If Oracle had reacted like this, what about Nemo...? Fuck, he didn't even remember her face, or her voice.

All of this was his fault. Why he bothered getting involved with anyone, he didn't know. There was one swift thing he was relearning, and it was that he took, and took, and took, with seemingly no capacity to give. Instead, he just fled, leaving everyone behind to deal with it.

He - now, as his current iteration - had made the decision to come back, to try and rebuild the bridges instead of leaving them abandoned to burn to ashes. Of course, Scout hadn't expected people to be pleased to see him. He didn't know what he expected.

Only when he felt Ivy touch his shoulder, eventually crouching behind him to pull him into a hug, and stop him from sinking further to lay on the floor, did he realise he was shaking.

He wanted to leave everything.

Despite that, the first thing he said was, "Can I stay with you tonight?" His voice was tinged with a crackling static. He couldn't be alone again. Not tonight. There was a few moments of silence which Scout felt were the loudest moments of his life. With a sigh, Ivy spoke, "Of course." Scout could hear there was more he wanted to say, but he didn't dare ask. Did that make him a coward too? Instead, the Exo just leaned back against the other's chassis. Other Exos understood better - there was no way for Ivy to understand his feelings though. The reset, and all that came with it, Ivy knew, but the why of everything? That was left unanswered.

He just wanted to leave. To drift along to the edge of the universe and explore what existed beyond this system, where nothing could hold him back, and nothing could be as complex. Scout felt he understood the deep paracausal mysteries of the universe better than he understood his current situation. For all the good he ever did, he always seemed to make ten bad decisions for each good one.

Flinching away from the hand that had reached up to rest against his antennae, Scout felt guilty. The one person offering kindness despite all he'd done right now, and he couldn't even trust him. Oracle had the right idea: Scout didn't hold it against him at all. There was no reason to show him kindness just because he didn't know what was going on or what to do.

The Exo had done so much bad in his life, so much bad that was too insignificant to remember, apparently. Was his first iteration, the human, better than he was now? Or were they all just destined to cycle through the same things, over and over; seemed to be a definite factor by this point.

A glare seared towards the little Ghost that still floated in the air, watching the door, wondering if the Oracle would return, wondering if they had said the right thing. Why did it bother with him? Each time, Cyclone made up excuses, defended him when he deserved no such thing. It should've just left him to deteriorate in that lake the first time around. His burning orange optics shifted away to stare at the floor. Even thinking of killing the thing was so selfish-- could he ever think about anyone other than himself? The Ghost had done so much for him, given him infinite chances, and here he thought of killing it to end his own suffering, and to earn supposed retribution and accountability for himself via such a selfish act.

What a vile soul.

Would running solve anything? It would make him feel better for a time, keeping everyone he met at arms' length. People would surely get used to him being gone, maybe it'd be better. All he wanted--

"C'mon," Ivy tried to heave the larger Exo to his feet, "You can take a shower, 'n' then head to bed. Don't take this the wrong way," he chuckled, "But you still smell like swamp water."

He loved Ivy. He was so thankful to have a friend that would pick him up no matter where he stood. Did he deserve it? No. But Scout was still damn glad that someone was offering that to him.

#prince of a thousand enemies | scout #petal in the wind | ivy #ic #I FIGURED WE'D PROBS END THE THREAD THERE #n i felt thisd be Longer so wanted to post in a dif post #cause im on mobile and hate cutting threads on mobile

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trixree · 3 years

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Okay so I had a panic attack in a Costco today and had a really unexpected (but wonderful) reminder that the person I am with is The Right Person For Me and I wanted to share this stupidly long story.

So my SO has to get a couple immunizations updated, so he tempts me along with him to Costco with the promise of pizza. And look. Look. Costco stressed me the FUCK out before the pandemic, alright? Fuck that place and it's lawlessness and massive, impossible-to-drive carts and families that pull up with ALL 4.5 of their children, okay? Costco sucks. But I was... utterly unprepared for how much WORSE Costco is DURING A PANDEMIC. (Don't worry, I had an N95 under a tripple-layer cloth mask and I stripped out of my clothes as soon as I got home. I'm not taking any chances, pizza be DAMNED.)

You'd think the giant signs everywhere reminding people to keep 6ft from one another would do something to temper the Usual Pre-COVID madness of a Suburban Area Costco on a Saturday afternoon. You'd be fuckin' w r o n g. The aisles are still lawless. The families are still there. Hell, it's all families. Not a single child is wearing their masks correctly. Everyone is glaring at me. I'm sweating. I'm not okay. I am in EVERYONE'S way no matter what I do. I must have said "sorry" approximately 30 times in the span of 20 minutes. My arms are short. The carts are hard for me to maneuver. I'm trying to stay 6ft away from everyone and succeeding Not At All because all these impatient white women keep running up on me to snag some fuckin bananas and I'm TRYING. MY BEST!!!!! It is loud. There are humans everywhere. Im d yi ng .

I go to my SO at the pharmacy. I have all that I could ever desire from this nightmarish place. "I have to wait 30min," he says. What little remained of my sanity dissolved like wet tissue paper. Very logically, as I am firing on All Cylinders and at 110% Capacity, I decide to go put the freezer items back so they don't melt while we wait. The freezer section is on the entire opposite side of the store, a good two miles away. As I bend down to put the yakisoba back in the freezer, my purse slips off my shoulder and smacks me in the face. I come back to the pharmacy, almost definitely sweating visibly through my clothes at this point.

I cannot overstate how badly I want to go home. Navigating these crowds is like that scene in Finding Nemo where all the grey fish are crammed together in that big ass fishing net and are panicking and wriggling every which way trying to escape. I somehow end up with the books at one point??? I'm so stupid. Copies upon copies of Obama's memoir stare at me with open disappointment.

SO and I decide that I will check out with the groceries and chill in the car while he gets his immunization, because I am clearly Losing My Fucking Shit. We trek all the way back to the freezer section and reclaim the items I just put back. As we get in line to self checkout, I almost take out this man at the kneecaps with the cart. I'm so sorry, sir. I was Not Okay.

It is finally our turn. I'm so close. So close to the blissful quiet of the car.

"You need two of those," the gatekeeper of the self checkout says incomprehensibly, pointing at the big thing of muffins in my cart. She might as well have been speaking Mandarin at me. I did NOT understand. I thought the Costco police were coming.

"I'm sorry, say that again?" I am choking on my fucking brains.

"You can't just buy one pack of muffins. It's two for one. It's 'cheating the member' otherwise."

There are moments in life that just utterly break you, body and spirit. This was one of those moments.

There were literally tears in my eyes. I would pay actual money to know what this woman's impression of me was in this moment. I would p a y.

I turn around, almost bumping into about 3 people as I do. My SO follows me. We stop, ironically, by the giant packs of assorted nuts, which I am deathly allergic to.

"I cannot do this, I gotta go. I gotta go." SO takes one look at me and hands me the car keys.

Now once I am no longer about to vomit, I'm in a whole DIFFERENT spiral of Anxiety because I think, "oh god. He's so fucking mad at me, isn't he? He just wanted company and I fucked it up. I'm such a goddamn child." I text him NINE (9) TIMES. NINE TIMES.

Two minutes later he shows up at the car with all the groceries and holy fucking shit,,, he isn't mad at all.

I almost cried again just from the relief of it. He wasn't mad at me. He handled the situation when I had to bail. He went back, got that damn second pack of muffins, and checked out on his own. He brought the stuff out to the car, checked on me with a truly infinite amount of patience, went back in for his immunization, and came back out with pizza for the both of us.

The best partners are those that can step in when we need it most, without complaint. Even when we melt down over the stupidest shit.

#long post #my posts #i had a long fuckin day #my dude is a good dude #sorry for... all of this

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lorei-writes · 4 years

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Match-Up #1

Submitted by @silhouette-of-a-dream on behalf of @readerinsertfanfiction ! :3 (Let’s start trolling music, pretty please).

It appears that plenty of Nemo’s positive qualities involve her intellectual side. As such, a suitor with sharp and curious mind may be preferable. It could prove to be rater stimulating - to bring that one step forward, I assume a person who specialises in fields that bear high likelihood of being foreign to her could be a good choice too.

Nobunaga (+) Mitsuhide (+) Mitsunari (+) Shingen (+) Sasuke (+)

Patience seems to be a quality which could benefit all possible relationships greatly. However, in certain situations it could prove to be even more so important - as such, only warlords who would be significantly affected by that are mentioned below.

Mitsunari (+) Ieyasu (+) Hideyoshi (+)

Additional points distributed for honesty and “dry” sense of humour:

Masamune (+) <- honesty Mitsuhide (+) <- honesty Shingen (+) <- sense of humour

I feel that several of those alleged flaws could actually become advantages under certain circumstances. (A distinction between honesty and brutal honesty has been made)

Mitsunari (++) <- directness, brutal honesty Yukimura (++) <- directness, brutal honesty Mitsuhide (++) <- directness, brutal honesty Shingen (+) <- brutal honesty

Given the “weird eating habits” being mentioned in the flaw category, I presume those must be somewhat unhealthy. As such, two things shall be taken into consideration: RIF may be unsuitable to take care of another person’s eating schedule and may need some help in that department herself.

Mitsunari (-) Yukimura (+) Hideyoshi (+) Masamune (+)

I presume a person able to support her with not only compliments, but also actions, could be appreciated in tackling her insecurities. Conversely, people risking to reinforce those in any way may be a bad choice.

Masamune (+) Shingen (+) Mitsuhide (+) Yukimura (-) Ieyasu (-)

1st Summary:

Mitsuhide ( + + + + +) Shingen ( + + + + ) Mitsunari ( + + + ) Masamune ( + + + ) Yukimura ( + + ) Hideyoshi ( + + ) Sasuke ( + ) Nobunaga ( + )

READ THE REST OF THE MATCH-UP & THE CONCLUSION BELOW THE CUT.

Points distributed for likes:

Nobunaga (++++) <- culture & history, reading, learning new things, languages Mitsuhide (+++) <- culture & history, reading, learning new things Shingen (++) <- culture & history, learning new things Masamune (++) <- learning new things, her original fiction Mitsunari (+) <- reading

Points distributed for dislikes:

Mitsunari (-) <- explaining everything a million times (sorry, Mitsunari) Hideyoshi (- -) <- suppressing traditions, shopping

Shigen would never force his red beans on anybody. Moreover, he may even willingly consume them instead of his partner.

Shingen (+)

2nd Summary:

Mitsuhide ( + + + + + + + + ) Shingen ( + + + + + + + ) Masamune ( + + + + +) Nobunaga ( + + + + + ) Mitsunari ( + + + ) Yukimura ( + + ) Sasuke ( + )

Well, surprisingly enough, I distributed too little (-), it appears. Huh.

Shingen refuses to be crossed out. In honour of Nemo’s blind dates event, let’s roll a dice to decide whether he’ll be allowed to do so. Even - stays, odd - has to go.

Shingen remains.

Nobunaga ( + + + + + ) <- patronizing Yukimura ( + + ) <- somewhat patronizing (less so than Nobunaga) Sasuke ( + ) <- patronizing Mitsunari ( + + + ) <- too child-like

Mitsuhide remains, as he never seems to underestimate his opponents and friends alike.

Oh. It appears a Kyubei may be necessary then. To make an exception:

Kyubei (+) Masamune (+) <- bringing more fun into her life

None of the remaining suitors appear to be ignorant.

Shingen (-) <- he does want a family. However, it is unclear what are his views on adoption, how old would a child be then, whether his views could change (assumption: no, it is highly unlikely), whether Yukimura is enough of a son, etc.

Luckily enough, our dearest ninja is out of discussion now.

Final ranking:

Mitsuhide ( + + + + + + + + ) Shingen & Masamune ( + + + + + + ) Kyubei (+)

Given that two suitors scored a second place, summaries will be written only for 1st and 3rd place. I’m equally surprised by the second place, it may be an error.

Mitsuhide:

To call Mitsuhide a walking mystery would be an understatement - however, there is only so much in this world that cannot be uncovered. It would take a sharp mind and some curiosity, both of which you appear to have in abandon. The beginning may be somewhat rocky, his teasing manners being annoying to say the least... That is, until he realised what sort of person he’s dealing with. Upon getting burned once, he wouldn’t underestimate you ever again, his games becoming a form of mutual affection.

Only the smart can prevail while living in the shadows, the path he has chosen having honed his mind. As such, Mitsuhide would not only make a splendid teacher, but also a conversation partner. Having survived plenty, he has surely discovered that all humans carry valuable information - he certainly would never disregard your expertise. Moreover, he’d support you from where he’s most comfortable, making your path easier by pulling strings whenever he could... Of course, only if you wished for it, as you’d be more than likely to see through his schemes.

Possible issues may arise around you both neglecting your health, even if Mitsuhide cared about yours more than he cares of his own. Unfortunately, a simple talk may be too little to resolve that one - please, ready yourself to be scolded by Masamune, Hideyoshi and Kyubei respectively. Free time ideas: conversations over tea, visiting picturesque places Mitsuhide found out about during his little schemes, playing in the garden with Chimaki, taking detours during missions & going sight-seeing in disguise, snuggling together after a tiring day

Kyubei:

He had you figured out from the very start, all too many of your quirks and qualities aligning with those of his lord. At first, he shrieked internally, reckoning in terror that world could not take two Mitsuhides, let alone both at the same time. Yet... Upon closer inspection, he realised your motivations and goals were quite different. Perhaps the universe didn’t play a trick on him, after all? Kyubei found himself slowly falling in love with you, the process only quickening the more he learnt.

Kyubei knew not to underestimate others, that being one of the lessons his lord taught him. As such, he would not question your expertise, although he may be curious enough to know why. Given his line of work, he’d be sharp enough to comprehend your ideas with minimum explanations. However, this power is a double edged sword, for he’d know right away when you took poor care of yourself - and he would not let that happen without a protest from his side.

Possible issues may arise around your eating habits and need to relax more. He’d surely try to help to the best of his ability, but there are only so many Mitsuhides one Kyubei can handle. He may need a helping hand in that. Free time ideas: folding origami together, resting at home, you working at kitchen while he cooked the meal for the both of you, visiting flower fields

#ikesen matchup #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #match-ups event

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charliejrogers · 3 years

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Soul (2020) - Review & Analysis

See? 2020 wasn’t so bad. We got TWO Taylor Swift albums AND two Pixar movies! I joke. 2020 still sucked. Still, it is pretty notable to be getting two Pixar films in the same year. Last time that happened was in 2015 when we got Inside Out (what I thought was a masterpiece) and The Good Dinosaur (and I will die on the hill that more than a visual stunner it was a good movie too!) This year we’ve already had what I consider the functional equivalent of The Good Dinosaur in Onward, a very good, but ultimately light adventure tale of brotherhood. That means my expectations for this film Soul, from Inside Out’s director Pete Docter (also the director of Monsters Inc. and Up) were unfairly high. This was to be the year’s Pixar masterpiece.

It certainly tries to be. It’ a heavier film than Onward, deciding to tackle more existential questions like... “is there a point to life?” and “how do we avoid living a meaningless life?” You know… the stuff you usually see in kids’ movies. And while I am a big proponent of Pixar and recognize it is unfair to call their movies “kids’ movies,” the magic of their films usually derives from their ability to appeal to adults and kids alike. Though I love Inside Out dearly, I know it wasn’t a huge hit with kids, so it will never remembered as fondly as say Wall-E, Finding Nemo, or the seminal Toy Story . I say this because… I’m not even sure who this film is meant for? I really cannot imagine a child enjoying this film, but I’m also not a child so I won’t hold that against the film.

As an adult, however, I only moderately enjoyed the film. What it definitely has going for it is the beauty of the animation. I think The Good Dinosaur was probably still prettier, but that’s only because nature is prettier than city streets. This movie is drop dead gorgeous with environments sometimes indistinguishable from photographs.

Furthermore, the world of this movie is really, really interesting and creative in a way only Pixar could make. Well… sort of. A lot of the film is just our world, New York City to be precise. The movie tells the story of struggling, middle-aged jazz pianist Joe Gardner (Jamie Foxx) whose day job as a junior high band teacher pays the bills but doesn’t feed his soul. He’s only there at the behest of his mother (Phylicia Rashad). If not for her, Joe would be out there every day auditioning for gigs, trying to make it big and (likely) starving from want of work (though certainly not for want of talent). She’s more elated when Joe gets news he’s being made a full-time faculty member than when he gets a chance at a once-in-a-lifetime gig

But as fate would have it, that gig was what he’d been waiting for his whole life, his chance at the big time, the chance to play alongside a modern day legend, jazz sax player Dorothea Williams (Angela Bassett). He’s so excited when he gets the gig he can’t keep his eyes on traffic and inadvertently keeps getting himself into danger. Eventually, in his distraction, he actually falls down an open manhole. And he dies.

Yes. You read that correctly. Joe dies like 10 minutes into the movie. It’s really rather jarring tonally, and I feel like his death isn’t made dramatic at all. Something more impactful would make his inevitable resurrection all the more special. This is a studio that made me cry three times in 10 minutes when I first watched Up… they could have done something more here. Instead, the death just happens and we clip along to the next scene. This slightly rushed pacing continues throughout the film and is ultimately my biggest complaint with the movie. For something that tackles very big and heavy themes, it never really gives them time to breathe.

Anyway, the film then starts part 2 of 4. With Joe dead, we now see his soul alone in a vast black nothingness, standing on a bridge towards a bright light (what is referred to as the great beyond). Joe isn’t ready to die – he was just about to have his big break! So he manages to escape from the bridge to the Great Beyond into the world of the Great Before. It’s here that Pixar’s creativity gets to shine the most. The Great Before is the land in which personalities are born. Big Picasso-esque extradimensional figures (all inexplicably named Jerry and all with New Zealand accents) serve as guardians of the little, uniformly blue souls as they go through the “You Seminar” where they engage in various activities in order to become who they will eventually become. The Jerries usher the souls into various pavilions (including selflessness and insecurity as well as self-absorption!) in order to create all of our unique personalities. Apparently, the film sides hard on the nature side of the nature vs. nurture debate.

But the most important part of the seminar is pairing these newly developing souls with a recently deceased soul as a mentor. Together the two are supposed to work together until they find the developing soul’s “spark.” Once a soul gets their spark, they are ready to head to Earth and start life. Some people get their spark, i.e. their inspiration to live, from hearing about their mentor’s great life achievements in “the Hall of You” (mentors runs the gamut from Archimedes to Mother Teresa). Other souls get their spark from time spent in “the Hall of Everything,” where souls can try out various Earth hobbies and find what they will eventually love most in life (whether that’s painting, acting, or in Joe’s case jazz piano).

It’s a clever conceit, and I very much enjoyed my time spent in the colorful world of the Great Before. The movie gains its primary plot here when Joe (who isn’t supposed to be a mentor and should just be on his way to the Great Beyond) gets confused with a recently-deceased, world-renowned child psychologist and accordingly is assigned to be the mentor for a particularly difficult-to-inspire soul, referred to only by the number 22 (Tina Fey). Mentors have tried and failed to give 22 their spark for thousands of year. Ultimately, 22 just doesn’t get the hoopla about Earth and rather just enjoys the routine of their “non-life” in the Great Before. However, they and Joe make a deal. Since whenever a soul gets their spark, they get an Earth pass, if 22 gets their spark, they agree to give their pass to Joe, allowing him to return to his life and allowing themself to stay in the Great Before forever.

That plan doesn’t work. Instead the pair find some “shamans” in a desert within the Great Before who try to perform a resurrection ritual for Joe. This was probably the most creative aspect of this film’s plot. Shamans, mystics, or just serious meditators on Earth can actually have their souls transcend into the spiritual realm, allowing them to interacts with the other spirits who are permanently in the spiritual realm, like Joe and 22. I make special notice to include “serious meditators” because the main mystic/shaman is Moonwind (Graham Norton) who finds zen and therefore access to the spiritual realm by being a sign twirler on a street corner in NYC. But what I love about this aspect of the movie is its explanation that not just serious meditators can transcend to this realm, but actually any human can. Any time anyone gets “in the zone,” like when they get lost in playing music or basketball (or in my case doing physics problems), their soul can transcend up to the spiritual realm. The shamans are only in that they are aware of and can interact with that new reality; the rest of us are not.

However, in a fun, if a little too on-the-nose aside, the main job of the shamans is to return lost souls to Earth. Lost souls aren’t dead, they just belong to people who have become so addicted to something (e.g. greed) that they become soulless while living. The lone example the movie gives is of a hedge fund manager whose soul they manage to return and who subsequently quits his job. I’m sure there are nice hedge fund managers out there… so this joke fell flat for me even if I found the concept intriguing.

So the shamans perform their resurrection ritual. It goes predictably poorly as we’re only maybe 35 minutes into the movie and it can’t end yet. So we enter part 3 of the film where, because of the botched ritual, Joe’s soul inadvertently gets put into a cat and 22’s soul into Joe’s body. The rest of part 3 sees Joe and 22 try to put things back together. All the while, 22 by being in Joe’s body gets to finally experience real life on Earth (including their first experience of the human senses including tasting pizza). They find that they like Earth a whole heck of a lot, finding greatest pleasure in the smallest of things: a leaf falling from a tree, conversation among friends, a child’s hand being held. Plus, by being a naïve soul trapped in an old soul’s body, 22’s interactions with Joe’s family and friends (while Joe looks on in cat form) grants Joe an almost It’s A Wonderful Life type experience. 22 says and does things with Joe’s voice and body that he might never dream of saying, but the result of 22′s fresh take on life is the creation of new and genuine connections with those around him in ways he never had previously.

Of course, it’s not a kid’s movie without some sort of villain. While on Earth, Joe and 22 are being hunted by Terry, another extradimensional figure who serves as the Great Beyond’s accountant. Terry’s not so much a villain as he is a semi-comical plot device. While I appreciate that this movie eschews a true “villain,” I feel like Terry did little to add to this movie’s already very lacking sense of dramatic tension. I would have been perfectly content if they just added more horror and dread to Joe’s sense of loss of life.

Eventually, Terry manages to track down the pair and bring them back to the Great Before where, to everyone’s surprise, 22 somewhere along the way found her spark and now has a genuine Earth pass! She’s ready to live... and for once she’s excited to. That is, until Joe insists that 22 doesn’t deserve the Earth pass (i.e. to live) since they only gained a spark by being him and being in his body. In other words, 22 just got to copy Joe’s spark. So he takes 22′s Earth pass and rejoins life. He even realizes his dream and plays an absolutely outstanding show with Dorothea Williams!

And then feels empty. Earlier in the film, back in the Great Before, Joe got to see his “Hall of You,” that exhibit of his life, and he looking at his life so far decided that if he really stopped living that his life would be meaningless. He worked so hard for one thing for so long (to become a career pianist) and he never got it. Well, flash forward to the end of the movie, having now finally reached his dream, and Joe realizes it didn’t give him the payoff he thought it would. His life still feels empty. I appreciated the film’s quoting David Foster Wallace’s famous “This is water” speech even if it felt a bit hackneyed, and ultimately it serves as the movie’s message. Life isn’t about the big moments; it’s about what’s all around us. “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans” John Lennon once sange. Life is the stuff that made 22 so happy… the stuff that gave 22 her spark. She didn’t find a purpose or meaning when she was down on Earth that gave her a spark, she found a joy in falling leaves and conversations.

So with that realization, Joe returns to the Great Before, finds 22 and gives them their Earth pass back. Joe had in effect robbed 22 of the ability to live, and in the end undoes his harmful. But with only one Earth pass between the two of them, if 22 is to live, Joe must prepare for the Great Beyond. Now if you’re expecting to cry somewhere in this last part of the film… think again. As I said earlier, the film kinda clips along through these various story beats, not giving them time to be fully explored to the satisfaction of an adult thinker. And I don’t know about anyone else, but I didn’t feel much of a connection to either Joe or 22. so despite big moments of sacrifice and love, no tears came to my eyes. It’s not that either is unlikeable, but neither is particularly charming.

Some of it, I think, lies with some less than stellar voice acting on the part of Jamie Foxx. I don’t know. Some of his parts just felt phoned in? Tina Fey is adequate as 22, but not a stand-out. And I’m willing to concede too that the movie, the first in Pixar’s canon to focus on a Black character, may not have been made with me a white guy in his 20s as the target audience. Still, I’m not sure that race is particularly relevant to my dissatisfaction. I more think the film’s philosophy is a little jumbled, or maybe I just disagree with it. It seems to tells us that there’s no meaning to life and that the important part of life is enjoying the small things… but that’s a little naïve to say the least. Yes, trees are beautiful and music sounds good, but the movie shies away from the fact that life sucks for so many people. Like so many people. I’m sure poor and beaten down people will not feel comforted if you tell them that living is worth it because falling leaves are pretty.

But at the same time, I don’t want the movie to have argued that every person is “meant” to do something. In fact I think that idea is bullshit, and I like that the film denies this degree of determinism. If you can’t tell, I’m more on the nurture side of nature vs. nurture. But still by creating this world where souls are fully formed individuals prior to incarnation and to deprive them of a purpose feels… well soulless. Though, potentially bleaker, it feels more honest to just say we’re born as a blank slate, in a world devoid of meaning than to say that we are born fully formed into a world devoid of meaning. I would argue the later (and what the film argues) to reflect a darker, crueller world. Especially after watching a show like The Good Place which managed to so creatively and adeptly develop an entire moral philosophy that was relatively easy to understand and was largely agreeable... this feels lacking.

So yeah… I just couldn’t connect philosophically with this world, the film tackles bigger themes than its kid-friendly world seems fully capable of tackling, and despite beautiful visuals, it lags in the sound department, making it hard to really relate to these characters. I know it will find an audience because it’s a superbly made film set in a creative world with a unique premise, but that audience just isn’t me.

**3/4 (Two and three fourths out of four)

#soul #soul (2020)#jamie foxx #tina fey #pixar #disney+#pete docter

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veridium · 4 years

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fake happy

Well, whaddya know! The College AU is back, baby! Unfortunately June was pretty much hell in a handbasket, so writing took a backseat. But, we are far from done. Thank you to everyone for sighting tight, and to @bitchesofostwick for being a very patient co-author.

So, where were we? Ah, yes, the holiday weekend from hell. On with the show! Title bought to you by a great Paramore song.

masterpost // last chapter

“Hey baby cakes!”

The moment she hears the shrill greeting whilst getting out of her car in the sandstone-colored driveway, Olivia knows she’s in a chapter of Dante’s Inferno. All the calmness she had with Ellinor earlier that day is gone; it is easier said than done enduring four days in the house of Paula Sinclair.

“Hey,” she rushes over her shoulder, pulling the side lever to release the trunk where her bags are kept. Just two, one of clothes and toiletries and the other books and supplies to do assignments. She’ll need the preoccupation as an excuse for the gauntlet of trials her Mom will invite her to.

As she’s filing her luggage out onto the driveway, she sees her Mom’s shadow approaching. She glances and sees her in all her glory: an olive green sundress with one of those straw pool hats. She was probably out basking in the sun all afternoon before this. Olivia is surprised she thought to put down whatever spiked beverage she must have had with her to come outside and greet her only child.

“Did you have a safe drive? You certainly did not rush to get home safe,” Paula says, halting and crossing her arms.

Olivia slams the trunk closed and huffs, slinging one bag’s strap over her shoulder and the other on her opposite forearm. “I woke up late, and had to help Ellinor pack.” Sorry, Ellinor.

“Ellinor! I will miss her this year.” A lie said out of convenience. The whole time Ellinor stays with them, Paula shoots her peculiar questions about her personal life or her political views. Ellinor knows better now after these last couple of years how to play them off, but Paula can’t help but size people up. It’s how she cultivates all her complaints.

“I will, too,” Olivia lets out as she makes her way to the front door, past the splendorous potted plants and fake green grass turf. Her Mother saunters behind her through the open door.

Once inside Olivia notices what’s missing, and sets her smaller bag down.

“Wh--”

“No no, do not just leave that there! Take it to the mud room or your bedroom.”

Olivia bites back a groan and turns around to face Paula as she shuts and locks the large-ass, gaudy-ass front door. “Fine. Where is Nemo?”

“Nemo?”

“...the dog, Mother.”

“Nemo! Oh, psh,” she waves her acrylics. “He is off in the yard. I kept him outside because the carpet steamers came this morning. You know how his muddy little paws are! Now, do I not get a hug?”

Olivia tenses up from head to toe, seeing her Mother coming in for the hug she didn’t wait for permission for. At least Nemo isn’t mysteriously gone -- she’s read too many horror stories online of people’s parents being complete monsters about their old family pets dying, and not telling the children who live elsewhere -- but Paula keeps Nemo out in the yard for days at a time when she gets the carpets cleaned. He will need company, and not just the husband going out and practicing his golf swing adjacent to him.

Oh, right, there’s a husband around here.

Paula hugs her with her arms draped over Olivia’s shoulders, rather than around her waist like a good bear hug. Something Dad would know how to do.

“I imagine Fred is off shooting, stuffing, or smoking something,” she mutters over her Mother’s shoulder, to which Paula gently swats at her shoulder and guffaws.

“No, silly! He’s in the yard with Nemo, your fellow prisoner,” she teases, picking up on Olivia’s dread with her trademark passive aggression. Only three minutes in the door, a new record.

“I didn’t say he couldn’t do those things out in the yard.” Lord knows he has before.

“Where do you think our holiday meal comes from every year?”

“COSTCO, like God and Uncle Sam intended, right?”

“Ugh, Olivia, your humor changes every year you’re at that College. Don’t be so morose.”

She takes a breath and picks up her eyesore of a bag so that it does not further desecrate the sanctity of the foyer, and makes for the curved staircase just across the pristine hardwood. “I’m just tired from the drive, Mom. I’m going to go upstairs and get settled.”

“Okay, and come downstairs soon! I wanna catch up, okay?”

“Yeah, okay!”

She glances behind her but her Mother is already vanished. Sure, catch up, but not too quick! Releasing her bated breath she lurches up the rest of the stairs. The place is heavily renovated from the home it originally was when her parents bought it. In the beginning they didn’t have much -- well, much compared to what Paula has now -- and so their first nest was a fixer upper. Year after year, corny wallpaper became fresh painted walls, and thick upholstered couches handed down from in-laws became brand new installations from the boutiques downtown. Two additions to the place upgraded it from a modest family home to a wannabe mansion. Olivia grew up in this ever-changing little kingdom of improvements, but only when she was a newly-minted adult did she realize she was one of its fixtures.

The one comfort had always been that her Father dwelled there with her. He brought heart and humanity to the kingdom of objects: his muddy shoes by the front door, not the “mud room.” His fishing rods hung up on the garage rack. His barbeque out in the yard. They weren’t all state-of-the-art, but they were his. But, by now, they, too, were all gone. ‘Improvements’ in every stead, including his.

Olivia had one sacrosanct place left, and that was her childhood room. Walking down the hall decorated with big, framed portraits of the family -- none of her Father, though, to be sure -- she found her door, the second one to the right in the west hallway. “West” being the original upstairs hallway, the only hallway, before construction added the one referred to as the “East.” She pushed the ajar door open and slid in to see it as she remembered: the bright lavender purple walls strewn with posters, pictures, and a tapestry up behind her bed. The pearly purple carpet smelled of the carpet cleaner, but it did not mask the smell of vanilla she expected. On the opposite wall from the door, her princess bed complete with ivory white canopy was freshly made. Her bedspread was white, with pillows in alternating shades of green and lilac. Years ago she fought endlessly for her Mother to let her paint her room a darker color than the baby pink it was first. Thanks to her Dad, they “compromised” with purple. Sadly, Paula took that as “the lightest shades of purple” and so it was.

In the details, though, there was Olivia’s rebellion. The posters, Paramore, My Chemical Romance, and an old one from a Sheryl Crow concert she found on Amazon, contrasted the brightness with a grit. To the left by her small balcony doors, her vanity mirror and stool were covered with polaroid pictures, concert tickets, movie ticket stubs, and bracelets. She had taken all of her incriminating, “immodest” makeup with her to college, so all that remained were an old bottle of sunscreen, some pastel eyeshadow palettes, and lip glosses. So many lip glosses.

Olivia dropped her shit in the middle of the floor and made for the reading chair in the far corner, where she collapsed into a curled, reticent ball of conflicted emotions. She predicted this -- she dreaded this -- and now, here she is. The first day is always a test of anxiety, more so than enduring mistreatment. Paula is always good on the first day -- great, sometimes. She is generous, and outgoing, and doesn’t sweat the small stuff. The grueling part comes after the first night ends and she realizes she has to do something with her daughter who isn’t just in for dinner and giggling. That’s when she remembers how she actually feels, and who she actually is. And with no one like Ellinor to buffer and provide excuses for her not standing in one place for too long, it’ll be particularly concentrated.

She slides limply against the plush chair and closes her eyes. It was a stressful drive full of hasty college kids getting home to their more harmonious families. Olivia was in no rush, though. Three trips through various drive thrus surely added time.

Her phone goes off, and she slips her phone out of her back jean pocket.

Ellinor: You ready to walk the plank yet?

Smirking, Olivia replies:

-- I am already keeling over the edge. How is your family?

Ellinor: I nearly did a drop and roll out of Lyssa’s car on the way here, but they’re bearable. They are who they usually are. No surprises, this holiday season!

-- One of these years we’ll be successful enough to buy everyone therapy for Christmas.

Ellinor: No shit, I’m making them pay for mine first.

Olivia is replying when another notification comes up, an instagram like this time, from Maryden. Grinning she taps on it. Maryden finally saw the group pic they all took at the fair: her, Ellinor, Cullen, and then Olivia and Cass in the bottom corner. Olivia had made Cass hold the phone due to height advantage. Her grin expands before it sinks fast.

Ah, fuck.

She pulls up her messages again and sees the one Cassandra sent her while she was driving and unable to check.

Cassandra: Text me when you arrive safe. ❤️

The heart emoji. Olivia’s cheeks turn hot, and she hastily types.

-- Here in purgatory!

The sound of a man shouting something, and then laughing, rings from the balcony windows. Fred must be huffing and puffing about something amusing, like meat or guns. She can’t wait for all his odd comments and attempts to “relate” that almost always devolve into him talking about whatever season of sport he’s onto and her nodding along. Poor man. He makes sea sponges seem like sophists.

Soon after sending, Cassandra replies, an opportunity Olivia doesn’t predict:

Cassandra: Awesome. my Uncle has stopped us for gas, still about 40 minutes out.

-- That’s good. Hopefully you won’t get stuck in rush hour.

Cassandra: My Uncle sucks at navigating traffic, so I wouldn’t bet on it.

-- Lol

Cassandra: You alright?

Olivia is sort of surprised by the question and its sensitivity, albeit direct.

-- Just tired from the drive, that’s all

Cassandra: You love driving. You would drive the entire stretch of the coast highway without blinking once.

Damn, Cassandra. A bold insight. A correct one, too.

-- 🤷🏼‍♀️

Five seconds after she hits send, Cassandra calls her. She nearly drops the phone on the floor, and her slack posture goes full vertical. She checks that the door is closed, only to decide to leap, rush, and lock it just in case. Then she hurries to the farthest corner of the room and hits answer right on the last ring.

“No, Detective, I will not submit to the polygraph.”

Cassandra’s voice rings almost playfully. “Very well, we have other ways of making you talk.”

There’s the hot blush again. “Uh, a-alright, who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?” She hushes a bit, and hopes Cassandra doesn’t notice.

“Nothing! My Uncle is in the gas station doing who-knows-what, so I’m stuck in here, boot and all.”

“I’m not kidding, I saw that Liam Neeson movie, I know how this goes. I have a special set of skills--”

“What do I have to do? Express my distaste for something? Quote Plato?”

“...It would be reassuring.”

Cassandra laughs coyly, and despite everything, it livens her spirit. She didn’t expect Cassandra to be in so playful a mood traveling back home. She was cool but unhappy about it that morning when they parted ways, entertained only by Olivia’s presence and a strong cup of coffee. Without the ability to drive due to her ankle, her illustrious but mysterious Uncle had to be the one to pick her up and take her back to her family.

“I was just calling to check in on you.”

“I thought that was what the texting was for,” Olivia replies more curtly than she intends. She gnaws at her bottom lip.

“Sometimes it is worth the extra effort to call.”

“That is very un-millenial of you, you know. Horrifying.”

“Maybe so. Ugh, what is that man doing?” there’s sounds of Cassandra rustling against the leather seat, probably checking in through the window. “Probably searching for that expensive jerky he gets at Trader Joe’s like it will just magically turn up at an ARCO.”

“Who’s to say it won’t? People of all walks of life can enjoy finer things.”

“Yes, but not just the ‘finer’ things,” she then huffs. “Look, I don’t have much time, so if you aren’t in the mood to talk about what is bothering you, I can let you go and we can talk later.”

“I don’t know if I will be able to. My Mom wants to ‘catch up,’ which in her language means I get a hundred questions and the occasional asinine one from Fred.”

“Fred’s your stepfather, right?”

“He’s...my Mother’s husband.”

“I see.”

She mulls her teeth and looks around aimlessly. Cassandra goes ‘hm’ but nothing else.

“How are you able to talk so much?” Olivia asks, diverting the subject. “Aren’t you worried your family will pry?”

“The good thing about holidays in my family is there are so many people around, you can get a great deal of private time if you are smart enough. Which is exactly what I intend to do. Ugh...he...oh, sorry. I thought my Uncle was coming back, but it was just another man.”

“Yeah, but you said they have superhuman abilities for nosiness.”

“They do. And I have superhuman talents of evasion. They’ll peck and prod about the ankle boot, though. Usually I can slip away to the gym or for a run to get away from them but...of course...can’t do that. Doctors don’t trust me to set foot in a weight room and it’s been weeks since my injury.”

“Cass, it’s been two weeks, almost precisely.”

“I said weeks, didn’t I? Look, overextending is not the same as knowing my limits. They’re the medical professionals, but they don’t live in this body 24/7.”

Olivia grimaces with sympathy, though she can’t say she agrees given how easy it is for Cassandra to throw herself into things without caution. “Uh huh.”

“Ugh, forgive me. I won’t be able to talk everyday, but I would like to try sometimes, okay? I promise it won’t all be about my messed up ankle.”

Olivia smirks. “You’re being very…”

“Very…what?”

Olivia stalls. Is it an asshole thing to do, saying your girlfriend is being more sensitive and caring than usual? Maybe not “more,” but in a different way. An unusual way. She could have really taken Olivia’s hurt feelings over how she acted about her injury. She could be really trying. But now, in the lion’s den, Olivia’s unsure about whether the timing of it is...well, ideal.

“Nevermind, I lost my train of thought,” she excuses. “I appreciate you.”

“It’s no trouble. Now, I think my Uncle is coming back. Ugh, he got a whole bag of things...probably for me. Seeing me with my boot triggered his overprotective nerve extra hard.”

“Oh, no, sour patch kids! The torture!” Olivia teases. An ounce of her regular self bleeds through.

“Very funny. I will text you later. Be safe, alright?”

“Alright. You, too.” She then remembers and slips it in before they hang up: “L-let me know when you get home, too, okay?”

“...O-okay.” There’s a pause, the kind of awkward pause when the thing you say -- the particular thing -- happens. But since they aren’t there yet, it’s full of pause and anxiety.

“Okay,” Olivia takes her turn to smooth it over. “Bye!”

“Bye.”

Hanging up kills the feeling of safety. She looks into the big oval mirror at her dresser vanity and watches her grin crack, then disappear all-together. The scene in her reflected surroundings loses its luster. Even with all the impossibilities, she kind of wishes Cassandra was with her. It almost makes her laugh at herself: what, would she have driven up with her in the passenger’s seat, hear “hey baby cakes!” and smile, saying “hey Mom, here’s my girlfriend! You’re suddenly not biphobic, right? Oh and by the way she’s a Pentaghast, so, there’s that!” and they all retire to the sitting room for tea and introductions. Right.

She turns and sees her unpacked bags, her only company. She rubs her forehead slowly with the back of her hand. She has experience being left to her own devices with her Mother. Hell, she has a lifetime of it with her. A long weekend won’t be anything particularly gruesome, and if it is, well, she’s survived them before.

Fifteen minutes later she has everything organized and put away -- she won’t unpack much, anyway. A quick change into some leggings and a t-shirt, a toss of her hair into a ponytail, and she’s ready to face the music. She’s careful to shut her bedroom door before she descends down the hall and the stairs, betting that her Mother is out in the yard on one of the lounge chairs. She finds her there, indeed lounging, with that missing cocktail restored to her.

Unmoved but always observant, her Mother inquires: “Settled in?”

Olivia puts on her best polite grin and sits down on the lounge chair five feet away. On the grass, Fred is dressed in pastel blue polo and cargo shorts like the overgrown fraternity pledge he is, throwing a frisbee for Nemo. Nemo, the 10 year old yellow lab, who can scarcely go up the stairs without being winded these days. Too bad for Fred the minute Olivia shows herself, the grey-faced dog bounds in his own way over to the long last playmate.

“Nemo! You little prince!” she smiles, crouching down to embrace him. His tail is wagging a million miles per hour, and he fills her face with old dog breath. His tickling gets her to finally laugh.

“Good grief,” she hears her Mom say, “Olivia, don’t let him lick your mouth!”

“I’m fine!” she says through her giggles, rubbing his chest and back as she stands upright. “It won’t kill me.”

“Ugh.”

That joy was short lived. She returns to the chair she chose and does her best to make as little eye contact as possible as she sits and sprawls her legs out. Nemo follows circles around her, tail still going.

“Do we know what the plans are for Thanksgiving?” Olivia asks, expecting the same answer as always. Dinner at home with Fred’s relatives and those in Mom’s family who she isn’t on the outs with, all above the age of 35 for the most part, and vote like it. Another dinner she’ll have to dress way too modestly and matronly for her age in order to fit in for the group photo.

“Well, that is what I wanted to surprise you with,” Paula answers.

Olivia side-eyes her Mom, and delays opening up her phone to scroll through Twitter. “What?”

“We will be having dinner with the family as always, but earlier this week we received a surprise invitation for us to attend a holiday party later on this weekend.”

“You aren’t going to spend the holiday campaigning, are you?”

“‘Campaigning’ has a broad definition, Olivia, and it is never a bad idea to become more familiar with one’s community constituents.”

Olivia frowns and resumes scrolling. Great, likely another fundraiser or gala, not something substantially humble like volunteering time with those genuinely in need, who are also her “constituents.” She saved the label for those she could depend on to write a donation check -- the other 80% of society barely existed.

“I assume then you are expecting me to go?”

There’s a sound of Paula’s magazine of choice turning a page. “What do you think the surprise was?”

“That as much as you would like me to come, that you respect my choice not to so that I can have a quiet, restful weekend at home before Finals are in full swing?”

No response for going out on that limb. The proverbial crickets chirp, and Olivia knows her point was deliberately missed.

“Or,” she corrects herself, “that you want me to go.”

“Yes, silly girl. And for your information, even if I didn’t want you to come, the invitation specifically noted you.”

“P-pardon me?” She looks up.

Paula shakes her head and smiles. “When were you going to tell me you were making friends with the Pentaghast family?”

“I...I-I’m not!”

“You must be, there was a handwritten note in the card, your name and all.”

Olivia can feel a stroke coming on. The heat of the day now feels like a vise around her throat, a semi-truck on her chest. She jerks up and turns to look at her Mother dead on, who is still flipping through her latest issue of Vogue, sunglasses and sunhat and all.

“So...so they wrote me in? Me, specifically?”

“Yes, that is what I said! Goodness, calm down, you’ll give yourself a heat stroke.”

Too late. “Why? Aren’t they one of the big blue families? Why would they want to invite y--”

“Are you insinuating that I do not belong in a bipartisan space? Olivia, I work in one for a living. This whole business of networking is par for the course. In fact, it is a long time coming. The Pentaghasts should be taking the ‘other side’ more seriously. I have been in this town’s political realm for seven years, now. They cannot always hide behind their old money and liberal hypocrisy of “inclusion.””

There is that rhetorical savvy and venom. Quintessentially Paula. Olivia falls back on the lounge chair and stares out into the lawn, mouth open and words lost. Where to begin? Hey, Mom, don’t think so highly of yourself, they’re only inviting you to get to me! Because they want to sniff me out as one of their many daughters’ lovers! You’re full of shit!

“Do I have to go? I am serious about wanting rest. This semester has been a lot, an--”

“A semester that I paid for,” Paula cut in, turning yet another page. “It is restful to be with your family. You should consider yourself lucky, Olivia, that spending time with us is so comfortable. You have this nice home to come back to, and good people to spend time with, and beautiful parties to go to. A girl your age in a lesser position would claw someone’s eyes out for the chance to live the life you get to. Is it so really so demanding?”

The shots to the gut have started early. So much for the easy first day. She wishes even more she could pop her Mother’s balloon, but it would mean ultimate disaster for her in the end. Out in the open Fred is still trying to get Nemo to chase the damn frisbee, clearly aware that he should stay away from the two debating blondes. Olivia rolls her lips shut and tries her hardest to swallow the hunk of pride at the back of her throat, but there’s no room in her stomach. It’s completely filled to the top with anxiety about what it means to be going to this party.

Then it hits her: Cassandra is going to shoot through the roof.

“Fine, Mom. I’ll go.” The clock then starts ticking for her to find a covert way out of it beforehand. She’s dove deep into her head, and only catches half of her Mother’s pleased response.

“--something classy, the party is black tie optional.”

“Okay.”

“I also have an appointment for us to get our nails done tomorrow at 11, so do not sleep in too much.”

Oh for fuck’s sake. She does another fake smile as she pulls up her messages on her phone in order to deploy the distress signal:

-- Change of plan, I need you to call me as soon as you are able. Your family sent an invitation to mine for their big party this weekend. My Mom is insisting we go. Code red.

#fic update #college au #modern thedas au #college!olivia #olivia sinclair #ellinor trevelyan #day & age #WE'RE BACK BABY

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