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tuiyla · 1 year

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I’m VERY curious about your new midnights gif!! You said you have a lot of thoughts about making it, could you give us a rundown of them?

Oh bless you sweet Anon I'd love to! I was gonna tag rant in the post itself but gifsets often see the tags copied entirely in reblogs so I wanted to save everyone that trouble. I'd love to give a rundown thank you for enabling me lol. Long post ahead but most of it under the cut. Be sure to share any thoughts you have Anon! Or anyone else, talk to me for a potential part two lol.

After seeing the post that I linked to as inspo I know I wanted to do a similar thing for Glee but I'm still just getting into Midnights and wasn't sure about assigning songs to characters. I've made a post or two asking people for their input so I'd like to shout out @sopheadraws for suggesting Sweet Nothing for Brittana on premiere day, @secretlesbianspy for Blaine and Anti-Hero, and for You're On Your Own, Kid @rachelberryy for Rachel and @katyobsesses for Marley. I ended up straight up ignoring a lot of what people have suggested oops haha but I agreed with these pairings. And then it was a matter of choosing 6-7 to actually gif and as I was doing some of them more connections started forming.

So, I start thinking about which Midnights songs to do and immediately I know that Maroon has to be on there because Quinntana doing that is my strongest association. This was fairly straightforward as I had the characters in mind, obviously had a colour set and knew that it would be I Do Quinntana scenes. I briefly thought of other ones but it's always obvious with Quinntana, isn't it?

I liked the imagery of Maroon and lines like "Your roommate's cheap-ass screw-top rosé, that's how" and "I wake with your memory over me // That's a real fucking legacy, legacy (It was maroon)". That latter one made it to the gif though a shortened version because space. I preferred to include the hopeful and less bitter half - well, maybe not hopeful. But the impression that despite the passion and even recklessness of the song it can be something lasting which is what I wish Quinntana was. Taylor songs and Quinntana deserve their own post but I just think the complexities of Maroon fit them well and it has that sort of sexual yet tender quality that's perfect for their two-time (sadly not continued) thing. And as for the gif itself, I'm forever obsessed with shots of them while slow dancing, that contemplation and ease before they throw themselves at each other. But I'm also very glad to have decided at the last minute to include an in-bed shot. I think it adds to the lyric "I wake with your memory over me". Not that they slept that much that night in the first place.

Next was Anti-Hero, which as mentioned I was convinced of for Blaine but long before that I'd already made up my mind that it was a Santana song, too. This a) works well for @secretlesbianspy haha but also b) fits my vision of trying not to make them all solos. That second half worked a little too well because almost all ended up being duets oops but I just think that assigning songs as solos is a little too limiting and duets and group numbers potentially offer more interesting interpretations. And so we have a Blaintana duet that takes place in an interspersed sort of non-diegetic way with both lamenting their lives separately but reaching similar conclusions.

In my mind this would take place at some point in season 4 or 5. I think it mostly fits Blaine in season 4 as he regrets having cheated on Kurt and crumbles under the realization that he can’t be Mister Perfect, maybe leaning into the “oh I’m the bad guy I ruin things” aspect a little too much. Like the dramatic little boy he is. Hence the clip chosen being from Hopelessly Devoted to You. As for Santana, I really like this shot from right before Girl On Fire starts playing because even though that’s ultimately a triumphant moment, it does come after the realization that she has to choose the real world. Over Kentucky, over Lima, over running back to the familiarity of Brittany, she has to choose taking that leap and truly living. And that’s terrifying when she doesn’t believe in herself. That leads us into season 5 which would fit Anti-Hero even more, when her insecurities cause her to go behind Rachel’s back and she doubles down on her bitch persona in the face of Rachel assuming the worst of her. The song fits her better in season 5 when she has that degree of introspection and also guilt about her past behaviour, so I did consider a pre-Be Okay clip where she and Rachel make peace. Ultimately, for aesthetic reasons this worked better but yeah I’m basically thinking New York Santana for this one. Actually you know what here’s a version of this with that alternate clip, as a treat (also different Blaine shot). Not fully coloured and finished so treat it as a discarded draft.

Phew told you this would be long, here comes song number three. As mentioned, You’re On Your Own, Kid read as both a Rachel and Marley song to me so it was an easy decision to use at least Rachel’s clip from their canon duet, New York State of Mind. That gave the whole thing a nice orange colour which worked for the warm to cold colour gradient that was starting to form. Beyond looking good, I chose the Rachel clip as it represents the start of her new life in New York and her stepping into her own. For Marley, a clip from Wrecking Ball fit not only because it had that orange hue but because it was her realizing she couldn’t trust Jake and thus was “on her own.”

The parallels between Rachel and Marley are interesting and less obvious than those between other OGs and their newbie counterparts, but that’s another whole post right there. What makes me think of the two in terms of this song is that vibe of wanting to escape your hometown, feeling insecure there, yearning for a love that will potentially make you stay. Finn and Jake, respectively, neither of whom end up being The One for the girls. And arguably, both Rachel and Marley are better off having had their hearts broken and realizing that they won’t be saved by some popular guy who choose them. “Like I'd be saved by a perfect kiss.” It’s a bittersweet realization that they have to rely on themselves but also empowering for both of them when they step out of previous roles and take charge. Rachel makes it in New York and Marley pursues her passion, supported by but not reliant on Jake or anyone else. Everything you lose is a step you take. Romantic heartache built their character.

Next up was Lavender Haze, which ended up less of a character analysis choice and more just what would be fun if they performed it on the show. From the beginning I had Quinn in mind and then Tina was added for some Quinntina fun, and though I debated until the end I ended up including Mercedes because that’d be an awesome trio.

I wasn’t hell bent on including this in the set but at this point I realized these were the first 5 tracks of the album bar one (more on that in a bit) and I just like the idea of the three girls owning this song. Again, this has less profound reasoning and is more vibes based, but I’d like to think that this is their way of establishing their own agency in their respective relationships and in general lives. All three have been stripped of agency one way or another, often relating to relationships, and this is them saying that they just wanna do what they wanna do. All have previously given a damn as to what people say, to varying degrees, but in a sort of #girlboss move they band together and defy that. I was also originally thinking of turning it into a romantic Quinntina AU thing, before I made the choice to include Mercedes. Read it in that way if you’d like. I just like the vibes of this one basically even if I like this gif the least. It could have maybe used more work but to be honest this was one of the ones I wasn’t that invested in.

Now that I’ve realized I had tracks 1-3 and 5 on here, I thought, okay, let’s get Snow On The Beach up on here. Mostly because at this point I knew I wanted The Great War in here so it could be a “the first 5 tracks + 1 extra from 3am” sort of thing. But then Sweet Nothing happened, more on that in its own section.

So, Snow. I went back and forth but upon the 10th or so listen I decided on Samcedes. It was that “falling in love at the same time” message that settled it because I don’t think the same can be said for any other couple. And I like the whole “yeah it’s unlikely but it works and it’s beautiful” vibe plus the chosen lyric really settled it. I look back on Prom Queen as one of my favourite Samcedes moments, their origin story and something that really sells me on this song being the one for them. The chosen lyric reflects Mercedes’ initial insecurity but also how they both felt at some point, yet everything still fell into place and they still worked, for the time that they did. It’s that magical vibe that I associate with their first evening together.

With the first five down I knew I wanted a plus one, that ending up being The Great War for Klaine. I initially thought of Labyrinth but that didn’t feel quite right and looking over the lyrics of The Great War did. Frankly I’m surprised to see sets of Klaine with other songs and not this. I didn’t want to include songs from 3am at first but this fit them and the plus one theme so The Great War it was. Initially in a turquois colour but yellow won out.

More so than any other song on the album, it’s the message of overcoming difficulties and still ending up together that makes it a Klaine one for me. Their struggles and the fact that they overcame them is often stated as a reason why people are drawn to their story and in all its angstiness I think this song describes that. Overall there are a lot of bittersweet songs on this album and ones of heartbreak and lost potential, whereas Klaine are about overcoming, so. And the bg clip is of them getting back together in A Wedding whereas the second one of from the last episode, right before we see them 5 years later as a representation of that overcoming. Once I chose the lyric I also thought of and made an alternate version for the second clip being their wedding kiss and thematically I still like that better but this worked better aesthetically.

So, we have the first five and even the plus one but hold it, I couldn’t just do a Midnights set, potentially my only one without including the association between Sweet Nothing and Brittana. The more I listened to this song the more I liked it for my favourite couple. Did it mess a bit with my original colour scheme, yes, and did I feel a bit weird including Santana three times, maybe. But at the end of the day these are my choices and I’ll choose Santana any day, so. Even though it makes the thematically organized part of my brain mad I had to include this.

This fuchsia colour really makes sense for them imo (even though I also tried it in yellow), the colour I usually associate them with. The wholesome and calm domesticity of the song immediately reminded me of season 6 fluff Brittana. I thought of a season 1 clip as well that I had on stock for, uh, other TS set reasons (coming soon) but I decided on season 6 choices. The hug from 6x06 has such a wholesome vibe to me and is easy to work with, and then choosing their little moment from Home was also easy. As they share this adorable moment they sing “their ain’t nothing that I need” which feels very fitting with Sweet Nothing, and of course the feeling that they’re each other’s home. All of this felt so right to me that despite it throwing off the little theme I planned for the set I couldn’t not include it. Having this Brittana association exist was more important than some arbitrary theme to the set that still sort of exists anyway. Very happy with this song and scenes choice.

Aaaand that is mostly it, though I also have thoughts on Midnight Rain which I almost included as a Finchel song. I know, I know, it’s already full of duets but I think that one really fits them and it’s track six which would continue the theme. I can also see a dark blue colour for it which would mean turning Anti-Hero lighter so Midnight Rain could fit between that and Lavender Haze. In the end though, I decided 7 gifs were enough and also tbh I just don’t think I acre enough about Finchel to give them a gif and a song off Midnights. I have even more thoughts on colours and alternate clips but this is long as is, so, all for now. But as you can probably tell I’d gladly go on some more haha. Please do send thoughts if you made it all the way through!

#anon #projecting taylor onto glee #glee asks #ask and you shall receive haha #i don't think i have a tag for gif explanations so uhm #gif explanaton #there that will do #thank you for enabling this anon #Midnights #please read this it's 2am

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drunkkenobi · 2 years

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Hello all, I come bearing a quick spreadsheet update. It’d been awhile since I’d done one, so I thought I’d share the past couple months of Watcher’s content.

There’s not too much out of the ordinary here. AYS continues to only do well when it’s airing (if that makes sense) and the one-off videos have done very well too.

TMS’s opening numbers are a bit softer than for season 4, but obviously not bad, either. AYS’s opening numbers were also a bit softer than from the fall. I don’t know what that means, if anything. Pretty much every episode was sponsored, including two special episodes that were entirely promotional. I have zero idea how those work and what the expectations are for them. (Steven mentioned there were numbers that were promised for them to the companies...but not what those numbers are. Steven Lim plz tell me all your business secrets)

My favorite bit of insight I can gather from this season of AYS is that the Cats episode didn’t do as well because people were probably afraid a cat died in that story. And The Missing did well because it’s when Shane talked about wanting old men to kiss. The internet is sensitive about cats, and wants old gays to kiss, confirmed.

The main reason I wanted to make this post was for WILD SPECULATION TIME! This past Friday at Vidcon, Watcher gave us months for the premieres of both Ghost Files and Dish Granted. I have looked to my calendar to try and figure out the exact days and folks, it is confusing. (putting it behind a cut because it got long)

So, the current season of TMS will end on July 15. Dish Granted to set to start in “August”. There are two weeks left in July between them (and we don’t know what week of August for DG). My personal guess for what is going to slot in here is a 3 week pilot run. Watcher has talked about debuting one more pilot show this year that I believe Ryan was involved with (whether it’s his or he’s just helping a new creator, unclear). This would be a great place to slot that in.

That puts Dish Granted starting August 12. There are only 3 confirmed guests for this season, I believe, so I can imagine this season being shorter than Watcher’s usual 6. DG is a wonderful show, but I know it’s really hard on Steven and the crew, so a shorter season would make sense.

This could lead into Ghost Files premiering September 2nd. So that’s one theory. Another is that you slot in 2-3 weeks of one-off videos, maybe one after TMS, the possible new series, and/or DG and then you have GF premiering September 23 or 30.

Then there’s the Puppet History of it all. The teaser at VidCon says “Coming Soon”, which is not helpful at all. Shane and some of the other Watcher crew have posted a few cryptic instagram photos over the past week of what I assume is the set, so my guess is that it is filming right now. However, Shane especially is notorious for posting things not as they are being filmed, so I can’t say for certainty that the season has not already been completely shot. (My guess is that it is currently filming, but again, I have been lied to before Shane)

My issue with PH is I have no idea where it fits in. Waiting until after Ghost Files airs puts it at airing in possibly November, which is quite far off. If GF starts in mid-late September and runs for at least 6 episodes (another thing I’m not sure of, but they have filmed 3 for sure and asked for evidence from many more places), that has PH starting November 4 or 11. Now, maybe they’re filming so far ahead for editing and/or scheduling purposes. Ryan gets married at the end of July, so he’ll be busy for a few weeks around then, plus they’ll have to fit in traveling for GF, so maybe they are getting it out of the way early.

Or perhaps, they’re going to air their most anticipated show and their most popular show at the same time. I have been dying waiting for Watcher to go back to two videos a week for some time. I get why they stopped, but I’d love to see them go back to it, at least for special occasions.

If PH does premiere in November, that rounds out Watcher’s schedule for the rest of the year, save maybe a couple holiday episodes and/or more one-offs. Wild!

Anyway, sorry this got so long and speculative, but it has consumed my weird little brain since Friday, trying to figure things out. Why they gave us months and not exact days is a mystery to me. One that will probably remain...well, you know. Thanks as always for reading!

#watcher #my spreadsheets #wild speculation schedule time

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anthotneystark · 2 months

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just started watching the season premiere for Masked Singer and like....not impressed. One performance by a new person, and the rest is all recaps and performances of people who have already been on in past seasons? Like, I get it we want each season to have a different structure or whatever, but like....I'm not watching that. I'm literally skipping over all of that because I want to see new competition and my own guesses at people.

and like, talking about the singular (!) new gal performing, like she did one song and it wasn't the best fit for her because it was lacking that rough edge that made the song so wonderful in the original version. Like it was fine, but you can't say she's the best performer we've ever seen when we literally haven't gotten to see shit?

my biggest gripe is that it's one person, and we're getting the unmask right away. Like, the whole point of this is supposed to be competition? It's supposed to string you along and keep you coming back? I've had my doubts with other seasons before, but this is ridiculous. I've watched maybe five minutes in total of this episode and now I'm skipping to the next episode because that's the entire amount of new material worth watching.

I've stuck with this show even when it gets boring (there's only so many times I can listen to them make terrible guesses and say every performance was the best thing they've ever heard when some are, objectively, not good. Like if you're off key, in a singing competition, that's not good. But Ken is funny and I do enjoy him, so I've held on) but if this is how the season is going, with essentially no competition, I'm done. I like seeing the costumes, I like trying to guess who people are. I don't like getting the cliffhangers cleaned up right away, I don't like seeing what we've already seen. The whole point of a new season is new material

#kat talks #kat watches masked singer #personal #Ignore me I'm just irritated because this is...not a good start for a competition show that's been feeling more and more stale #because they keep moving away from the initial premise and trying to do new things that just don't work #I've liked so many performances on here I'll be so sad if I stop watching but I'm not watching three-four recap eps a season #Like I know what happened I watched it already

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4stars-uswnt · 3 years

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My Muse, My Valentine [Christen Press x Reader]

requested by anon: Not sure if you’re accepting any request but can you write a cp x photographer gf where her gf surprised her at man u, like her gf secretly transfer there to be with cp. Thanks

A/N: please ignore some of the inconsistencies this story has with reality :) but anyways... hope you enjoy and have a happy Valentine’s Day (tomorrow) and remember it’s a day about LOVE, whether that be romantic, platonic, familial, or self ❤️

“I’m gonna miss you,” you whine, as you watch your girlfriend pack her suitcase.

“I know, babe. I’m gonna miss you too, so much.” Christen leans down to quickly peck your lips, before continuing to fold her clothes.

You and Christen had been dating for almost three years now, having met after you’d photographed one of the USWNT’s matches. You instantly felt an attraction to the curly-haired forward, your camera always drifting towards her wherever she was on the pitch.

After you’d posted a couple of your photos on your Instagram, which Christen made a point to like and repost, you gathered up the courage to approach her after a game, and thus began your relationship.

With yours and Christen’s busy schedules, it was sometimes hard to find time for each other, but you made it work, sharing an apartment in Portland during the offseason and flying out for matches when you could. But being a sports photographer did have its benefits, as your work often led you to spending more time with your girlfriend and admiring her speed down the field and score goals.

But now, with the pandemic, as the NWSL was struggling to field games, you found yourself with little work. Christen herself was not quite satisfied with the league’s plan for the season, so when Tobin proposed the idea of going to the WSL, she desperately wanted to, yearning to get back on the pitch.

At first, when Christen approached you with the subject, you immediately opposed, not wanting to be so far from your girlfriend for such a long amount of time. Additionally, with COVID, it would be nearly, if not completely, impossible for you to visit. But after a blowout fight and discussing it further, you realized that this is what would be best for Christen and her career.

“Do you have to go?” You pout, sitting up and moving to the end of the bed.

“You know I do, (Y/N/N).” Christen playfully rolls her eyes.

“Humph.”

“Babe, come on, don’t make me feel worse about leaving you.”

“Then don’t,” you quip, grabbing your girlfriend by the waist, pulling her down on the bed with you.

“Babe!” Christen squeals, as you blow raspberries into her skin.

You lift your head from the crook of her neck, your eyes locking with hers. “I know that you have to go,” you admit seriously. “Doesn’t mean I like it, but I know that this is what’s best for your career.”

“Thank you, (Y/N),” she says earnestly, giving you a small smile. “We’ll text and FaceTime everyday.”

“I’m holding you to that.” You cup her face and bring her in for a kiss, savoring the feeling of her soft lips on yours. “I also know that you’re gonna kill it over there in Manchester. The WSL isn’t gonna know what hit them.”

Christen ducks her bashfully, a small blush arising on her cheeks. “You know I love you, right?”

“Of course, Chris. I love you, too.”

“Good.” She gives you a quick peck, as she gets up from the bed. “Now, either quit bothering me or help me. My flight is early tomorrow morning, and I haven’t even finished packing.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

—————

It had been a little over five months since you’d dropped Christen off at the airport and she left for Manchester. Despite the constant texting and the nightly FaceTime calls, you couldn’t help but ache for your girlfriend. Without her, the apartment was lonelier and the bed felt bigger.

It had helped that your work had started back up, first with some freelance work and then with the NWSL fall series starting, which gave you something to do and kept you fairly busy.

Currently, you were sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping on a cup of coffee, as you edited some photos for the Thorns. Just as you were saving your work and closing Lightroom, about to shut your computer, a ping alerts a new email in your inbox.

Switching tabs, you notice the message is from an unfamiliar address, so you presume it’s a new client. You click and open it, your eyes widening, as you scan the email:

Ms. (Y/L/N),

I noticed your professional portfolio through many referrals, particularly your work form the World Cup. I am writing on behalf of the BBC News Media Centre, and we’re looking for an excellent sports photographer to join the team, specifically to cover the FA Women’s Super League and the Premier League.

Your experience is outstanding, adn your work speaks for itself. I think you’d be a great fit for this role, and I’d love to tell you more about it and hear more from you.

Would you like to set up a phone or Zoom call soon? If so, let me know when you’re available.

Best,

Charles Smith

Director of Media Relations at BBC Sport

You quickly reread the email, and then reread it again, just to make sure you’re not dreaming. This was too good to be true. But you shake yourself out of your stupor and quickly type out a response to set up a phone call as soon as possible.

After hitting send, you shut your computer with excitement and throw your hands up in the air.

“Yes!” You exclaim into the empty apartment, as you throw your fist in the air and jump off the barstool.

Knowing you needed to distract yourself, otherwise you’d just be staring at your computer, eagerly awaiting the response, you decided to go on a run.

Jogging through the city, you think of your girlfriend and your potential reunion if this job offer worked out. You decided that if you did in fact take this position, you’d surprise Christen at one of her matches, hopefully one that you’d be able to photograph.

As soon as you arrive back in your apartment, you make a beeline for your laptop. You anxiously open your inbox and beam when you see Charles had replied to set up a Zoom call at 9:30 tomorrow morning. You excitedly type out pleasantries, telling him you’re looking forward to it.

For the rest of the afternoon, you were in an increasingly good mood. So later that evening, when Christen called you for your routine FaceTime, she could tell something was up.

“Why do you keep smiling like that?”

“Can I not be happy to talk to my girlfriend?” You tease, a huge grin plastered onto your face.

“You can,” Christen trails off, not quite believing you. “But you have the weird giddy look you get when something’s up?”

“Nothing’s up. Just had a good day,” you shrug nonchalantly.

“Okay,” the forward accepts, still eyeing you suspiciously. “Anyways, you know She Believes is in a couple weeks, are you working the tournament?”

“Yup,” you nod and make a mental note to mention that to Charles tomorrow.

The two of you continue updating each other, chatting about topics ranging from what you had for breakfast that day to re-inc’s upcoming drop.

“Alright,” Christen yawns. “I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

You check your phone and see it’s 5:37 pm, meaning it’s almost midnight in Manchester.

“Okay,” your eyes softening at the sight of your sleepy girlfriend. “Good night, Chris. I love you.”

“Love you, too, babe. G’night.”

After ending the call and shutting your laptop, you head into the kitchen to make some dinner for yourself, getting on with your evening.

—————

The next morning, you anxiously await for Charles to begin the Zoom call, nervously bouncing your knee and biting your lip.

“Hi, (Y/N),” Charles greets, his face appearing on your screen.

“Good morning. Or rather good afternoon?” You correct with a light chuckle, to which he reciprocates.

“Well, as you know from my email, we are looking for a photographer to join our team, and from many referrals, you seem to be a very good candidate,

“So, I was thinking maybe we could look at your portfolio really quickly and then hash out the logistics to see if this is something that could work out.”

“Sounds good,” you agree, as you pull up some of your best pictures and share your screen.

The two of you look through your photos, many from the 2019 World Cup, some of the Olympics, and a few from random NWSL games.

“Well, (Y/N), your work is quite impressive. If you’re ready, and you’re seriously interested in this position, we can talk specifics, scheduling, all that good stuff,” Charles offers.

“I’m definitely interested, but can I just preface by saying that my girlfriend is a major part of this decision, so depending on what she wants to do at the end of the season will impact my contract.”

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrows, clearly not expecting your candor. “Your girlfriend plays in the WSL?”

“Yeah, well, technically only for this season. Her contract is up in May,” you explain.

“(Y/N), to be completely frank, we’re looking to hire because a couple of our photographers had some personal issues due to COVID and had to leave mid-season,” Charles reveals. “So if it turns out that your girlfriend wants to go back to the NWSL, then we can work that out. And if she wants to stay, and you end up liking it here and you fit in well, we can also work that out. We’re pretty flexible.”

You sigh in relief, giving him a small smile. “Wow, thank you so much. So what would my contract look like?”

“Well, we can sign you to three month contract with the option for extension,” he offers, as you nod along enthusiastically.

“That sounds great,” you exclaim, beaming. “And just to let you know, I’ve already signed on to work the She Believes tournament from the 18th to the 21st.”

“That actually aligns with the WSL’s international break, and there are a couple Premier League matches that weekend, but I think we can manage, so that shouldn’t be an issue.”

“You guys are too kind and so flexible. I really appreciate it so much,” you say earnestly.

“It’s really just us being desperate for a good photographer,” Charles jokes.

“Either way, I’m grateful for this opportunity.”

“We’re excited for you to join our team,” he reciprocates. “So, in terms of when you’ll begin, I honestly would like you to come over as soon as possible so that you can get settled and get acclimated.”

“I am honestly ready to start whenever you’ll have me.”

“How about next week? The Manchester Derby is on Friday, and honestly, given your portfolio, I’d love you to photograph that match,” the British man admits.

“That’s perfect!” You were in complete awe of how perfectly everything was working out. Photographing a Man United match as your first job meant you could surprise Christen, maybe as an early Valentine’s gift.

“Great,” Charles smiles.

The two of you discuss and finalize your contract and the logistics of you starting the job. Once everything’s settled and you each have the information you need, you wrap up the call.

“Well, thank you so much, Charles, for this offer, and I can’t wait to see you next Tuesday.”

“I can’t wait to work with you and meet you. See you next week. Cheers.”

After ending the Zoom call, you begin to make a COVID test appointment, book your flight, and arrange your hotel room for the few days that Christen doesn’t know you’re there, preparing yourself for moving across the world.

—————

After landing in London, getting settled into your hotel, and meeting with the BBC team and the other photographers, you were now on your way to the Manchester Derby.

In the back of the black cab, you pull out your phone to text a good luck text to Christen.

It was difficult to keep your surprise a secret, especially when you were actually in England, because it was much more difficult to FaceTime without her noticing your change in setting. You had to make up the excuse that you were swarmed with editing and preparing for the upcoming Thorns trainings.

As you pull up to the Academy Stadium, you hear your phone ding.

Chris ❤️

Thanks babe. Miss and love you 😘

You quickly type out a response, before heading into the building.

(Y/N/N) 💗

Love you too. I miss u too but go kick butt.

The match was exhilarating. Not only were you a sports photographer, but you were also a huge fan of the game, enjoying a good game when you see one.

You watched in awe, the level and style of play significantly different from than NWSL. While snapping hundreds of photos of both teams, your camera would always somehow land back on your girlfriend.

Your heart ached for the curly-haired forward, as you missed her dearly. Until you saw her back on the pitch, you hadn’t really realized that you missed watching her play the game that she’d mastered, her movements around the pitch and on the ball effortless and elegant.

As the ref blew the whistle, signaling the end of the half, you scroll through some of the photos you’d taken, deleting some of the blurry and unfocussed ones.

A smile immediately forms on your face when you see a picture of Christen during warmups with a huge grin on her face. You spend all of halftime editing said photo and putting together an Instagram post for your girlfriend.

About fifteen minutes later, the teams take the pitch and you go back to doing your job. Throughout the second half, you could tell that Christen was getting increasingly frustrated, her team getting down 3-0 with only about five minutes left.

You watch as the players high five and hug each other, and you want nothing more than to run onto the field to be with your girlfriend, but you had a plan to stick to.

As the team goes back into the locker room, you pull out your phone to post a photo on Instagram and then you shoot a quick text to Tobin:

(Y/N)🤓:

toby go check out my ig post :))

Back in the Man United locker room, after Casey went through her post match speech, Tobin checks her phone and sees a text from you. The injured forward playfully rolls her eyes at your message but follows your directions.

Upon opening the social media app, Tobin raises her eyebrows, her eyes widening. She glances across the room to see if her best friend had seen your post, but Christen was minding her own business, changing into sweats after her shower.

“Chris!” The older forward calls over to the other woman. “Have you seen your girlfriend’s Instagram post?”

Christen furrows her brows in confusion. “What? No, what is it?”

Tobin waves her friend over and shows her the post:

Liked by mrapinoe, ashlynharris24, and 638,231 others

yourusername: My muse, my valentine.

“As I sat and looked at her

and the rolling hills she sat upon

I thought,

what amazing luck I have

that the world had created

such beautiful things

and given me the eyes to see them.”

- atticus

tagged: christenpress

- - - - -

mrapinoe: Stunning pictures, (Y/N). Love you guys 💖

alikrieger: These photos are 🔥🔥🔥🔥

alexmorgan13: love this 😍😍

cdunn19: Beautiful!

glennondoyle: Love love love love this!!

ashlynharris24: Holy shit! Are you in Manchester????

↳lavellerose: Was this today??

↳sammymewyy: Oh my gosh it was!

↳kellyohara: Valentine’s Day surprise for Pressy?? 👀

Christen zooms in on the photo in the center, her eyes widening when she realizes that it is from today’s match.

“How did she get that picture?”

Tobin mentally slaps her forehead at her friend’s denseness. “Knowing (Y/N), she probably took it.”

“But that’s impossible. She’s in the States,” Christen states and shakes her head, dumbfounded.

“Actually,” you speak up, stepping into the locker room, deciding to make your presence known. “I’m right here.”

“(Y/N)?” Your girlfriend looks up at you, her mind in a state of shock.

“Hey, love,” you greet shyly.

Once her mind caught up with reality, Christen runs and jumps into your body, kissing you passionately but briefly and wrapping you into a bone crushing hug.

“I can’t believe your here,” she whispers into your neck. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, babe, so much.”

Unwrapping herself from the hug, Christen stares at you in awe. “What… how are you here?”

“We can talk about that later,” you give her another quick kiss. “But right now, I just wanna spend time with you. Maybe we can grab some dinner? You can show me around Manchester, considering I’m gonna be spending a lot of time here.”

Your girlfriend looks at you puzzled, but you just give her a wink with a small smirk on your face.

“Well, c’mon lets get out of here.”

—————

Back at Christen’s apartment, the two of you sit down for a nice and casual, but romantic, dinner you’d prepared along with a bottle of red wine.

After catching up, the forward finally decides to address the elephant in the room. “So how are you here? What’s going on, (Y/N/N)? You said earlier that you’d be spending a lot of time in Manchester, what does that mean? I’m so confused. Not that I’m grateful that you’re here right now and that I get to see you, but I thought you were working She Believes, and—“

“Chris,” you cut off your girlfriend’s endearing rambling. “Babe, you’re rambling.”

“Sorry,” she blushes, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“I got a job with BBC Sport till the end of the season,” you answer her parade of questions.

“Does that mean what I think it does?”

You nod, while taking a sip of your water. “It means I’m yours if you’ll have me.”

Not having the adequate words to express her joy and excitement, Christen gets up from her chair, walks over to sit in your lap, and connects you lips for a searing kiss.

“I can’t believe you,” she breathes, rubbing her nose against yours. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you quickly peck her lips while rubbing circles on her hip. “But as much as I love you and all this romance, we gotta get going soon.”

Your girlfriend tilts her head in confusion.

“Do the words ‘She Believes’ ring a bell?” You tease. “If I remember correctly, our flight leaves in a couple hours.”

“You’re coming with me?” Christen asks, her brain trying to wrap around the fact that her girlfriend, who she hadn’t seen in almost five months, would now be living with her in England and flying back to the States with her for the next week.

“Of course, Chris,” you give her a cheeky smile, along with a kiss to her nose, as you quote a book Becky had convinced the whole team to read. “You should know by now that I’d follow you anywhere. You’re the only good thing left in this world.”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #christen press x reader #christen press imagine #christen press imagines #uswnt #christen press

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duskholland · 4 years

Text

The Fame Game (Prologue) | Tom Holland

Summary ↠ There’s just something about Tom Holland that makes your blood boil. He walks around like he owns the world, always with an unhelpful quip or irritating smirk on hand. You can’t stand him, and your feud has burned hard and bright for three years. Everything changes following an explosive evening at the Oscars, when a questionable encounter with the paparazzi lands you in some hot water with PR... fake dating au; enemies to lovers; actor!y/n.

Word count ↠ 4.6k

Warnings ↠ Alcohol, paparazzi, swearing, discussions of misogyny and the corruption of fame, Tom and Y/N are both very petty, dramatic assholes.

A/N ↠ Ahhh it’s here! I was really shocked by how many people responded to the announcement post for the series -- I hope so much that this doesn’t disappoint anyone lol. This series is my baby, and I’m very excited to share it with you all. Before we dive into the fake dating, we must first explore a very critical evening for Tom and Y/N... hahahah. This was a lot of fun to write. Please let me know if you’ve got any thoughts! :D

(Tom’s in the FFH premiere outfit because I’m still in love with that fit, and the jury’s out for whether or not the actual Tom needs glasses to see; this version of him just uses them as a fashion statement lmao)

((The biggest thank you ever to V, mischiefandi, for being this series’ no.1 supporter and proofing this -- love you mate))

Series masterpost

ZERO: The Oscars (Y)

The atmosphere at Vanity Fair’s Oscars after-party is electric.

The soft boom of the latest pop tunes seeps into the air, mixing with the warm lights and the sounds of clinking champagne flutes. The room holds Hollywood’s best, and it seems no matter which direction you tilt your head, your eyes find themselves settling over a familiar face. You’re walking amongst legends tonight, and as you throw back your third glass of champagne of the evening, you let a small smile unfurl across your lips.

It isn’t your first time attending the Oscars, but it is the first time you haven’t felt utterly out of your depth surrounded by people of this calibre. When you’d first started in the acting industry, you’d found it incredibly unsettling to enter a room full of Oscar-winners. Even now you remember how your hands had felt slick with sweat as you’d nervously been introduced to Meryl Streep and Viola Davis, and how you’d felt imposter syndrome on a scale you’d never imagined possible. Time and experience have brought you many things, but most importantly, they have gifted you confidence. You’re 24 now, and the string of achievements and nominations tied to your belt is so impressive that they deem you no longer an outsider at the Oscars; instead, it’s as if you’ve been accepted into the fold.

But for all the enjoyment of the lavish after-party, you can’t stop your mood from plummeting. It’s all fun and games until your eyes sweep the room and settle on a smirking figure standing in the corner:

Tom Holland.

Just the sight of him makes your nostrils flare.

You think it must be true what they say: once you start to dislike someone, it’s as if every single thing they do irritates you. This is how you feel with Tom. Even the smallest, most insignificant details about him somehow manage to annoy you. You cannot stand the smell of his hair gel, and you detest the way he stubbornly refuses to mend his phone screen. Your teeth grit together every time you see that smug smirking grin hanging from his lips, and you get worked up by the way he always seems to swagger around as if he owns the room. The grievances fall into several categories: his aesthetic choices, his generally smug demeanour, and his irritating personality, and it all fosters your deep, unyielding disapproval of the man.

Tom infuriates you beyond belief - beyond words. And he’s standing across the room right now, staring at you over the rim of his wine glass with a teasing smirk hanging from his stupid lips.

You try to ignore him at first. You lick your lips and return your attention to a conversation with some of your co-stars. You know better than to try and approach anyone else tonight. Your reputation, as your PR team likes to put it, is ‘fragile’ at the moment. A string of uncomplimentary ex-lovers and a few disgruntled directors have shattered your pristine public image, making you regarded as both a rising talent and loose cannon by the media. There’s been a common trend recently of news outlets dragging your name through the mud, and the desperate words of PR as they’d begged you not to cause a scene tonight drift through your mind as you contemplate wandering over to Tom.

You know it isn’t in your best interests to engage with the man - no matter the occasion, your conversations always end explosively - but Tom is just standing there, staring at you persistently, and you just can’t help it.

Your tongue flicks out across your lower lip as you feel his hot gaze trailing around your made-up cheek. His eyes are intense - holding power over you, to the point where you have you excuse yourself from your conversation. An exasperated sigh slips past your lips as you turn around, preparing yourself for your encounter. Your stare finds him, and it follows Tom as he strides across the party towards you, one hand hanging easily from his trouser pocket as the other clasps an intricately engraved wine glass.

The frown on your lips deepens the nearer Tom gets, and as more details of his figure draw into focus. He’s got his chestnut waves slicked back tonight, with a few stray strands hanging out across his forehead. It makes him look dishevelled, but in a devilishly handsome sort of way - which makes sense, given you’re reasonably sure he must have some kind of relationship with Lucifer himself. Stretched across the wide expanse of his shoulders is a deep burgundy suit, and it cages him in tightly, leaving little to the imagination. Your lips curl into a poisonous grimace as your eyes finally fall on the glasses perched on his nose; you’re sure Tom doesn’t even need glasses, and it riles you up to see him parading the frames as a fashion statement.

But perhaps the thing about his ensemble that annoys you the most is the fact that you can’t look away. No matter how hard you beg yourself, you can’t drag your gaze away from Tom’s swagger, or the tight hold he has on the stem of the glass, or the way his eyes dance with a dark, mischievous glint as he falls to a stop in front of you. Tom is many things to you, but it’s undeniable that you find him attractive, and that fact often keeps you seething well into the early hours of the morning.

“Y/N,” Tom greets, his voice dripping charm. “Lovely to see you again.” His thin pink lips twist up into a smirk, and you find yourself clenching your fingers into fists around the tender stem of your champagne flute.

“Tom.” You step forwards, and your lips catch at his cheek as you press a firm, unwavering greeting to his face. You feel his warm hand slip from his pocket, and it grazes across your hip as Tom holds you closer. “You look to be enjoying yourself.”

When you pull back, you linger near him, allowing Tom to return the gesture by pressing his hot mouth to your cheek. He smells of rich, overpowering cologne, and you scrunch your nose up as his lips burn against your skin.

“It’s quite the party tonight,” he returns, stepping back. Tom’s beady little brown eyes run across your figure, taking in the long designer gown and the decadent sparkly necklace hanging from your neck. He graces you with an approving nod. “Are you having a nice time?”

“I was.” You pause to take a long sip of champagne, finding comfort in the way the bubbles pop against your tongue. You hope the alcohol will help to take the edge off the way your heart has started to pound against your ribs. “It’s a shame you had to come over here and ruin my mood.”

“Couldn’t help but notice you were staring at me, love,” he says, “Thought maybe you had something you’d like to say to me.”

You feel a hot spike of irritation as his lips curve effortlessly around the word love. Tom has always been a fan of pet names. The ease in which they roll from his tongue in that smooth, accented voice never fails to charm the room, and though you like to think you’re immune to his allure, you can feel the word spinning around your head like a broken record.

“Not really,” you return coolly, maintaining your composure with the poise and precision of a seasoned actress. You even manage to flash him an apologetic smile. “No big award for you tonight, though? Must be heartbreaking.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Are you really still caught up on the BAFTA?” He asks, his voice lower and harder.

The mood between you dips, and instinctively you find yourself moving away into a quieter corner of the room. As you drift away from the hordes of celebrities guzzling champagne, it’s as if the facade between you breaks down. Your smirk becomes harder, your eyes less forgiving - and in return, Tom’s smile sours into a grimace, and he holds himself straighter. The masks you wear come off, leaving you both bare and exposed.

“No,” you respond darkly. You’re tucked away in the corner of the party, with your back almost against the wall as Tom lingers in front of you. Both of you have discarded your drinks glasses. “I couldn’t care less that you won the BAFTA, Tom. If the jury decided you were worthy, then you were worthy. I would have to be very unreasonable to disagree with the committee.”

“I don’t believe that for a second, Y/N.” Tom tilts his head to the side, flashing the tips of his shiny white teeth as his mouth loosens into a wild smile.

“Fine.” You give him an excessive sigh, and you let your eyes drift towards his mouth. “I don’t buy it, Tom.”

Tom’s suit jacket breaks out into wrinkles as he crosses his arms across his chest. “You don’t buy what?”

“This act.”

Tom almost rolls his eyes again. “And which act are you referring to, Y/N?”

“The Mr Nice Guy Act, Thomas.” The way he flexes his jaw makes you lean nearer and smirk. “Everyone here thinks you’re such a wonderful man, but I see right through it.”

It’s hard to know precisely when your feelings towards Tom became so hostile, but you like to pinpoint the night of the BAFTAs in 2017 as the day you surpassed the point of no return. You were younger then - both of you - and things quickly got out of hand. You know Tom likes to pinpoint your ‘jealousy’ following his win and your snub at the awards show as the catalyst for your tumultuous relationship, but both of you know that night was the product of several cumulative events.

Your best friend had worked with Tom’s mate Harrison, all those years ago in 2016. You knew Harrison through her, and you got on well enough with him, so when the BAFTA academy had nominated both you and Tom as contenders for Rising Star, Harrison had orchestrated an exchange of phone numbers. However, given your packed schedule and press engagements, you had failed to respond to all of Tom’s attempts to contact you.

One thing led to another. Tom assumed you were dodging his texts and started bad-mouthing you to Harrison. Word travelled to you that this guy - the competition - was throwing shade to your name, and so you might have made a few choice remarks about him on Ellen and suggested that Tobey Maguire was the best Spider-Man. Whatever. It was all so petty and childish, and it’d escalated to boiling point on the night of the BAFTAs when Tom hadn’t been able to shut up and thrust his win right into your face - quite literally. You can still remember the way he’d clutched the trophy as he’d shown it off in all its grandeur.

Ever since then, your relationship has been poisonous. A case of miscommunication and petty jealousy turned hostile, and now you’re in far too deep to even think about mending the fractured dynamic.

“I am a nice guy,” Tom tells you. His eyes skim across your face, and you don’t miss the way they drag across the curve of your lower lip.

“As if.” You ponder which anecdote you should fall back on to prove your point, and it takes a while to select one: the pool of Tom’s past mistakes and moves against you is vast and wide. “Would a nice guy conveniently forget to invite me to Harrison’s birthday party?”

Tom winces, and something almost like regret flickers out across his face before he meets your eyes and hardens up his gaze. “I’ve already told you that was a case of miscommunication,” he says slowly, patronising. “I doubt you would have enjoyed it anyway, Y/N. Wasn’t exactly your type of party.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Your hand finds your waist, gripping firmly at your flesh to stop your fingers from shaking. The way Tom looks at you so intensely makes you feel strung-out and bare, and it’s almost as if he can see straight through you.

“It was a small, intimate gathering. From what I’ve been hearing, you’re a fan of the larger, more explosive parties, aren’t you?”

You could throttle him. You could really, truly throttle him. You know with certainty that Tom’s referring to the latest smear the media had run against you, which had placed you at an illegal rave in Downtown LA and cost you a role in a film you were passionate about.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the tabloids, Tom.”

“Maybe not.” Tom’s closer to you now. You find your back brushing up against the wall as he steps nearer yet again, his shiny leather shoes sparkling beneath the light curving out from the chandeliers. “I’d like to think I know you quite well, though, Y/N. We have known each other for several years.”

“I’d use the word ‘known’ very loosely if I were you. I think it’s more like, ‘been plagued by’, but you do you, Tom.”

He laughs, and this time the noise is lighter. You feel a little woozy from the champagne - or maybe it’s his cologne - and you let your hand wander up to rest on the top of Tom’s suit. You drag your fingers across the smooth material, marvelling at how soft the designer garb is to touch.

“Do you like my suit?” Tom asks, his voice lower than before. There’s a strange charge to the air between you, and you find yourself nodding.

“I disagree with the glasses, but your suit is decent. I have to admit that this colour looks flattering on you.” The bold burgundy tones bring out the warmth in his eyes, even if the stupid thin frames of his glasses obscure them. You watch as his pupils widen and feel the warmth of Tom’s breath as he inches in closer.

“Thanks,” he says. Tom’s hand winds around your waist. “Your dress is very nice.”

You swallow, your throat suddenly feeling dry. You briefly wish that you had another glass of champagne to keep you occupied because you find your other hand joining the first and finding purchase on Tom’s shoulder. He’s very close to you, and there’s nowhere left to move because you’d backed up against the wall. Fleetingly you wonder what it must look like, to be hidden away at the back of the party and caged in like this, but you decide that the flurry of heated emotions passing through his eyes and the way his thumb pads over your waist is worth it.

Neither of you says a word, but you watch through wide eyes as Tom’s gaze flickers out across your lower lip. He inches in closer, almost painfully slowly, his demeanour radiating a shaky confidence as he tilts the angle of his head. You watch the hard lines of his mouth dissolve, and his smirk melts away into something like a smile as his eyes flutter shut. Now Tom is very close - so, so close - and the gap between your mouths narrows by the second.

He’s going to kiss you. You know he’s going to kiss you. Why is he going to kiss you? Why are you going to let him kiss you-

“Y/N! Hey, congrats on the film. I saw it last week with my wife, and she loved it-”

Tom springs back. You gasp a short breath of air as your eyes widen, and the film of scattered emotions that had temporarily disarmed you shatters. Tom’s cheeks are bright red, and he doesn’t seem to know where to look or what to do as he jams his hands into his trouser pockets and stares at the floor.

“-Oh, sorry, was I interrupting something?”

Your throat tickles as you shake your head, looking up to see Mark Ruffalo standing there, his expression relaxed but growing in confusion as he drinks in the awkward tension rippling between you and Tom.

“No,” you say immediately, a bite to your voice. You refuse to look at Tom. “You weren’t interrupting anything.”

Mark releases a breath of relief and launches back into his speech, complimenting you profusely on your performance. You become distracted as you listen to him, but not enough to forget about the way Tom had leaned closer and brushed his thumb across your side almost gently. After a few moments of conversation, you can’t stop yourself from glancing over towards Tom, only to notice that he’s slunk away elsewhere. His absence makes your heart twist.

Another hour slips away, and you find yourself returning to the Moët for release. You can feel your composure gliding away from you with each fateful sip. Tom seems to have vanished, and you find yourself questioning if he’s so embarrassed by your moment in the corner that he had to leave. You wonder if that would be better than him staying.

But eventually, your eyes seek him out, as they always seem to do. And you catch him chatting with a woman, his arm around her shoulders and his lips brushed against her ear. Tom seems to feel your gaze on him, and his deep brown eyes meet with yours. He raises his eyebrows and whispers something into the woman’s ear that makes her laugh, and it sends something whipping down your spine.

It isn’t just jealousy - it goes deeper than that. It’s the realisation that you could never get away with this behaviour. You know that if the roles were reversed and it was you who had been seen getting close to two men in one night, you would be assigned a whole host of derogatory names. The double standards that exist in this artificial world of cameras and headlines make you feel sick to your stomach. You are not jealous of the woman beneath Tom’s arm, though you will admit it makes you feel uneasy - it’s the hypocrisy of it all that makes you seethe.

“Excuse me,” you mutter to no one in particular. Tom’s eyes slip away from yours as you put down your empty glass and turn, heading in the direction of an exit. You wander the vast, glittering ballroom for a few moments before spying a door embedded in the back wall that leads out into a dark alleyway.

When you step out onto the street, the cold February air seems to bring your tipsiness to the forefront of your mind. You giggle softly to yourself and wrap your arms around your chest, your fingers rubbing rapid fiery circles across your exposed flesh as you try to drum up a heat.

You lean back against the wall and stare up at the vacant sky. LA is too polluted to see the stars, but you like to imagine they’re staring down back at you. In the distance, you can hear the sounds of laughter coming out from the hall, and out at the end of the alley you can see the street, cloaked in dark paparazzi vans and dim amber street-lamps, but tucked away up here alone, you feel at peace.

“Cinderella runs away from the ball, yet again.”

You scowl. Your eyes move away from the dark blanket of clouds to see Tom. He’s ditched the glasses, but you can see the legs sticking out from the pocket sewn to the top of his suit.

“Joined by her ugly pumpkin.” You screw up your nose at your own words, cursing your fizzled mind for messing up the tale. “That’s not right, is it?”

Tom approaches you, his cheeks full of a rosy tipsiness. “Dunno,” he murmurs. “Think I like it better than being called your ugly sister, though.”

“Ew.”

You share a loud, unruly laugh with Tom, your voices mixing almost melodically. When you sigh, you lean further against the wall.

“I hate it in there,” you find yourself admitting. “So many people were talking about me behind my back. It’s like they think I can’t tell that they’ve just been discussing me when I walk over and the conversation falls silent.” You slot your fingers together and play around with your thumbs. “Everything is so fake. It’s like a game to them.”

A cool breeze floats down the alley, and you find yourself shivering.

“It is a game,” Tom says slowly, all whilst slipping off his suit jacket. He holds it out to you, raising an eyebrow when you shake your head. “It’s cold, Y/N. I know you’re stubborn, but neither of us wants you to freeze out here.”

The mood between you feels tender, and you let yourself accept his warm jacket. You throw it across your shoulders and feel the warm embrace of his suit, and the husky traces of cologne nestled to the fabric, but Tom’s looking at you with an intense gaze, and the sight of his golden browns draws you back to the scenes from inside the party.

“Saw you chatting with a woman inside,” you say, words a little sharper. “Trying to see how many times you have to try it on before someone bites?”

Tom flinches. The air fills with the sound of him clicking his tongue as he rubs his hands together. “You are so fucking petty, Y/N.”

You raise an eyebrow, responding to his clipped voice with surprise. “Hit a nerve, have I?”

He groans softly. “Sorry,” he mutters, “I shouldn’t swear at you. You just get under my bloody skin.”

You shrug. “You’ve said worse.”

“So have you.”

“Only because you deserve it.”

Tom’s bearing in on you again, but this time you feel more at ease. The scent of his cologne mixes with the sweet champagne that lays fresh across your palette, and it makes you feel delirious. You can’t stop yourself from reaching up and draping your hands across his shoulders, bringing him nearer.

“You drive me crazy,” Tom admits. His voice is husky, his eyes dark and intense. In the slight breeze, strands of his hair waft across his forehead.

“I can’t stand you,” you return. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as his hands dig into your waist. The rough render on the building behind you digs into your back as you loop your arms around Tom’s neck and bring him in closer.

“Neither can I, darling.”

It’s like magnetism - some sort of invisible force pulling you in before you can even fathom it. One moment you’re staring at Tom, scepticism in your eyes and anxiety thick in your chest, the next he’s surged forwards and captured your lips in a messy, sensational kiss. You gasp into his mouth, and your fingers tighten against the short hair at the nape of his neck as you kiss him back harshly. Your noses bump and your teeth collide as Tom grabs at your sides with fervour, and having him clutching at you is so hot that it takes your breath away. The kiss is messy and hurried, and it seems to melt down all the built-up tension and frustration you’ve been nurturing for years. It makes your head hurt, and all you can focus on is how crazy it is that you are kissing Tom Holland - and, horrifyingly, how much you don’t seem to hate it.

It comes crashing down when there’s a round of flashes, and you hear the telltale sound of paparazzi photographs.

“Shit!” You push Tom away from you immediately, your breath hitching as your head snaps down to the end of the alley. Unbeknownst to either of you, you’ve been spotted by the men with those large, invasive lenses. The flashes continue, and you turn away, your actions almost in slow motion as you feel a wave of nausea travel across your chest.

“Y/N!”

“Tom, Tom!”

“Are you dating?”

“Having a bit of fun tonight, Y/N?”

A chorus of cataclysmic yells come racing down the alley and the howls of the paparazzi mix with the loud sound of camera shutters.

“Fuck.” Tom grabs your arm, and he pulls you away from them, bringing you both back into the party. There’s a tightness in your chest as you gasp for breath, walking in dizzying strides as you card your fingers through your hair anxiously.

“No, no, no,” you mutter to yourself. You can hear the calls of the paparazzi ringing in your ears, and you dig your fingers into your temples for relief as you snap your head to glare at Tom. “Why did you just kiss me? What’s wrong with you?”

Tom looks pale, and his eyes are round with shock, but he still manages to stare at you incredulously. “You kissed me too?”

You bury your head in your hands. “This is it - this is the last straw. They’re going to have a field day with this.” You peek out at Tom through gaps in your fingers, laughing humourlessly. Your chest burns as you take in his disarmed expression and his deep chocolate eyes. “This is the end.”

“It… It was just one kiss.”

You shake your head furiously. “They’ll run with it. They’ll make a spectacle of us.” Your nails dig into the soft palms of your hands. “You are such an asshole.”

Tom’s mouth, a little red and puffy, twists into something of a snarl. “You kissed me! Why is this my fault?”

“It’s always your fault.” You pause and shake your head. You can’t help but fall back on the naive thought that this truly is all Tom’s fault. You’d been fine before him. You’d been looking into the starless sky. You’d been at peace. He’d just had to waltz on out and trick you into his lips. “Well, I hope you enjoy the end of your career.”

He raises a thin eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’ve been associated with me, which is the equivalent of getting a big black line scored right across your name.” You reach up and jerk his jacket from your shoulders, and roughly shove it back into Tom’s hands.

“I think you’re overreacting.”

“Really?” Your gaze hardens. “This is all just a game, Tom, don’t you see? We don’t get to decide who stays on top.” You laugh humourlessly, your tongue tasting sourly of champagne. “We have fucked up.”

Tom sets his jaw. One by one, he stuffs his arms through his suit jacket and tugs it back around his body, sinking into it forcibly. He pulls his glasses from the pocket and places them back on the bridge of his nose, balancing them crookedly.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Tom remarks, his voice cold and sharp. You briefly wonder if he understands the magnitude of the situation, and as he sweeps away without so much as a kiss on the cheek goodbye, you realise he probably does.

Without yet wholly understanding it, one drunken kiss has sealed your fate. As you stand there, twiddling with your thumbs in the back corner of the Vanity Fair party, your mind races. You know with absolute certainty that things will never be the same again, but not even your wildest dreams could compare to what is about to come.

buckle up bc I’m about to take us on a ride and a half. may as well have ended this with an ellipsis lmao.

↠ next part

any thoughts?! I am actually dying to know what you’re thinking lmao!! my askbox is open :D

taglist can be found in the series masterpost, which is the pinned post at the top of my blog

masterlist linked in my description

#tom holland #Tom Holland x reader #Tom Holland x y/n #Tom Holland imagine #Tom Holland series #Tom Holland fic #tfg #y/n #y/n use #self insert #self-insert #my writing

1K notes · View notes

immaturityofthomasastruc · 3 years

Text

IOTA Reviews: Guiltrip

So, my week has been hell. In addition to working night and day on final essays for my classes, I've been really busy at work lately, and the second COVID vaccine shot really took a lot out of me this week. And that's not even getting into the bureaucratic nonsense that comes with applying for the MTEL which is slowly making me wonder if I actually want to teach in the first place.

But, despite all that, there was a single light of hope this week that almost made it all worth it.

STAR WARS: THE BAD BATCH, BABY!

OH MY GOD, THIS SHOW IS AMAZING! I ALWAYS LOVED THE CLONE-CENTRIC EPISODES OF THE CLONE WARS, AND NOW WE GET AN ENTIRE SHOW ABOUT AN ELITE TEAM OF THEM? KICKASS! AND IT TAKES PLACE AFTER ORDER 66 WITH GRAND MOFF TARKIN AS THE MAIN VILLAIN? SWEET MOTHER OF GEORGE LUCAS, I CAN'T WAIT! I DON'T EVEN CARE THAT THEY TRADED IN THE COOL SNIPER CLONE FOR SOME LITTLE GIRL CLONE, I ALREADY WANT TO SEE MORE THAN THE TWO EPISODES WE GOT SO FAR! GOD, I LOVE THIS SHOW!

Oh yeah, there was also a new episode of Miraculous Ladybug that aired on the same day too, I guess. It was pretty good. Hell of a lot better than the past three episodes I've sat through.

Let's get into the fifth (chronologically the eleventh) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Guiltrip

We start off in the middle of class where we see Marinette looking at Adrien lovingly.

Because the writers are still trying to push the Love Square on us as if they were trying to sell us some death sticks. And yes, expect a few Star Wars jokes in this review. This episode did premiere on May 4th after all.

Rose suddenly gets a headache, and asks to go to the nurse, saying that “Miss Dora” is back. While walking there with Marinette, she explains that it's a code name she gives when her head hurts and can tell Miss Bustier without letting everyone know. She probably felt a name like “Maya Grain” would just give it away.

At lunch, Juleka gets a text that really upsets her, so Marinette tries to cheer her up. Keyword being “tries”.

Okay, yes, this is referencing the previous scene, where Rose refers to a certain snack at the nurse's office she eats to recover her health whenever “Miss Dora” visits called “Mr. Coffee”, but it's just bad timing. I get Marinette has a habit of not reading the room, but why did she have to use the term “Miss Dora” when she knows what it's being used for? Sure, she doesn't know that Juleka knows, but did she really have to say “Miss Dora”? She couldn't have used any other name instead? It's like making a chemotherapy joke when you just found out someone close to you has cancer. Even putting the context aside, what is this joke's punchline supposed to be? That “Miss Dora” will visit Juleka if she eats her lunch? Even by the humor standards of this show, the joke fails spectacularly.

Marinette bumps into Adrien, and although she stutters a little with a little exaggerated body movement, she does manage to take things seriously so she can have an actual conversation with Adrien about Juleka, who wants to be alone. She explains that the text she got was from Rose, who was sent to the hospital because of her sickness, and the entire class finds out because Marinette texted everyone to come to check on Juleka.

Goddamn it, Marinette. I usually defend you for getting screwed over by the writing, but you really aren't on your A game today.

Juleka explains that Rose got this sickness when she was little, which naturally worried everyone else. To make things worse, Juleka also says Rose made her swear to not tell anyone about her to worry her. Everyone else swears to not let Rose know that they know, and the act of support is actually enough to drive away an Akuma targeted at Juleka.

Unfortunately, nobody ever said anything about being overly affectionate to Rose, so everyone in the class tries to do things for Rose like carry her bags, giving her a pillow to sit on in school, helping her take notes, letting her cut in line at lunch, and giving her apples.

All of this makes Juleka remorsefully tell Rose that she told everyone else, which worries her because she hates all the special treatment, so she goes to tell them all about her illness. While they seem to accept her, the next time she sneezes, they overreact like, uh... how can I make this joke in a tasteful way?

Rose says she's had enough with all the treatment, which makes Juleka feel guilty. In the bathroom, she gets akumatized into Reflekta (yet again) with a Sentimonster named Guiltrip. And then Reflekta immediately gets sucked into the Sentimonster, which will cause it to go out of control. Nice job, Shadowmoth.

While it might not look like much, this is easily my favorite Sentimonster by far. Granted, that's not saying much, given all we've gotten so far for Sentimonsters is bootleg Mothra, sentient candy, a robotic doll, a frog with a body count, yet another evil doppelganger, and an eye, but my point still stands. Rather than actually confront the heroes, it's basically a portal to another world where it can trap people in bubbles that represent their regrets and despair, and turn them into copies of Reflekta.

It's a really strong metaphor which reminds me of the villains from Kamen Rider Wizard, who tried to drive their victims to despair in order to turn them into monsters. Ironically, that show's main villain is also some asshole in white who was risking countless lives just to save someone close to him. In general, the area inside of Guiltrip is visually stunning, and easily the highlight of the episode. It's just so surreal, and it really sets the tone the episode's going for.

Ladybug and Cat Noir arrive on the scene, and also get sucked into the portal, seeing some of the victims before they also start to fall into despair. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but this is one of the few times where Angstdrien Depreste is thematically appropriate. Cat Noir points out that if they had simply defeated Shadowmoth by now, none of this would be happening, which is a good point. He even attempts to kill himself using his Cataclysm, but unlike RWBY, they don't try to glorify it.

This also leads to Rose managing to fight off Guiltrip's powers with her optimistic personality (so I guess you could say she's A New Hope for the heroes), inspiring Ladybug to compliment Cat Noir. While I'd normally be pissed that this is yet another way to boost his ego, it does fit in with the episode's theme of positive thinking. Well, with the exception of one line where she points out what her time as Ladybug would be like without Cat Noir...

BEING A SUPERHERO IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FUN. Yes, there are certain benefits to being a superhero, but it is not a fun game you play when lives are on the line. Why are the writers so dedicated to validate Cat Noir's beliefs that being a hero is just a fun extracurricular activity? Has there ever been a superhero who shares a similar mentality and isn't treated like a complete jackass?

So Ladybug and Cat Noir break free of the bubbles, and after summoning her Lucky Charm, a pickaxe, Ladybug realizes she needs more positivity to break free from Guiltrip. As such, she pulls out the Pig Miraculous and gives it to Rose, who transforms into Pigella. Funny how she forgot her little headache condition when she bangs her head like a death metal singer while transforming.

The design is... wait, she's not wearing a skin-tight jumpsuit? She's actually wearing something different?

youtube

Yeah, I really like the Pigella design. There's a good mix of pink and white, and the skirt really brings the whole thing together. It really reflects Rose's optimistic and bubbly personality.

So the three heroes find Reflekta, who has been consumed by tons of bubbles. Pigella uses her superpower, Gift, to show Reflekta what her heart wants the most right now. So it's basically a more specific version of the Fox Miraculous? In fact, what do pigs have to do with optimism?

Whatever reason, it works, which helps Reflekta to break free of Guiltrip's influence, letting Ladybug de-evilize her. But because we need to have a fight scene in this episode, the Reflekta clones start to attack the heroes, but Ladybug uses the pickaxe to climb out of Guiltrip and purify the Amok.

So Rose hands the Pig Miraculous back to Ladybug, and the episode ends with everyone treating Rose normally in class, realizing she isn't as delicate as she thinks she is.

So yeah, I really like this episode. Aside from a few stupid things Marinette said this episode, I honestly don't have a lot of problems with the episode here.

I also really like the lesson this episode is going for. It doesn't shame Rose for rejecting the help, and it doesn't shame the class for being to overprotective of Rose either. It tries to find a middle ground, which is an important lesson to learn, not just for dealing with a loved one who has an illness, but for disabled people and other kinds of situations where someone has a disadvantage. Even as much as I ragged on Marinette for the text, it's clear that she isn't the only one to blame. In fact, nobody really gets blamed for anything this episode. It's more of a misunderstanding, and both sides find a balance on how to treat Rose.

It's overall a really good episode, and the second best one so far this season. And you know what? This episode taught me the importance of staying positive, so with that in mind, maybe I shouldn't be dreading “Queen Banana” when it comes out this week.

Wait, what? It got pushed back two weeks? Oh, THANK GOD! Now I feel like dancing. And I know exactly what song to dance to...

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#immaturity of thomas astruc #iota #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug salt #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #adrien agreste #cat noir #chat noir #rose lavillant #pigella #gabriel agreste #hawkmoth #hawk moth #shadowmoth #shadow moth #juleka couffaine #reflekta

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gocrazygostupidtheories · 2 years

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me looking way too much into background elements and going off topic? its more likely than you think.

In the new intro we got Darcy’s head covering the moon. I just thought “Hey that’s cool lighting, and Darcy’s blocking the moon-” and now I’m stuck here trying to theorise when the invasion will happen and what we have to address still, with only eleven episodes left of the original story. So, here’s two theories I have come up with completely based off of an opening (I wrote this before I saw the Froggy Little Christmas promo, but I’ve edited it). I apologise.

1. The invasion will happen on an eclipse.

Why? Purely for the aesthetic. In more detail, it comes from the new opening.

To be honest, I just looked at it and all I really can say is how the full moon is covered up by her head (a black helmet) but you can still see its glow, like an eclipse, but I am kind of liking the idea. I imagine it’ll be either a total or annular eclipse, as they just purely look cooler and more similar to that in the image. Also, the appearance of an eclipse matches up pretty well with Darcy and the Core’s designs (eerie and black with glowing orange (in some cases)) and it’d be the most super villain thing to do. This series has already has a theme with stars, so why not the moon?

2. I don’t even know how to title this: INVASIONS??? SOMEHOW??

This mess started from me coming up with what moon it’d be when they invaded. I originally thought that the end moon in If You Give a Frog a Cookie is a waning crescent, and that pretty soon they’ll invade (we already knew that but hey) as it’s the closest to the new moon, which also could be the moon they invade on, and therefore the invasion will take place in Froggy Little Christmas. BUT, sadly, it’s not a waning crescent but a waxing crescent, which is after a new moon, so either Froggy Little Christmas would take places weeks after this episode, or it wouldn’t match up and the theory flopped. But, this all led me into guessing when exactly the invasion will be.

I know that it wasn’t originally going to be the finale, but the fact that it works as a finale, from Matt himself, is just terrifying, ESPECIALLY when it comes to this show and its finales. Could it just be a light-hearted Christmas special? Possibly, and probably. But the fact it has its own song, the episode description of “meanwhile, King Andrias prepares a deadly surprise” whatever the fuck that means, AND all of these screenshots:

Something’s got to happen. Just a sprinkle of drama at the end, maybe. This is the notorious “pain” show, afterall.

I tried thinking that perhaps the attack would be at the start of season 3B, but it wouldn’t match up. They would atleast have to introduce something in Froggy Little Christmas first or it wouldn’t really work as the premiere. If the original finale is going to be dramatic and will introduce the invasion, then it wouldn’t fit right if it came out of nowhere after a break. However, there is always the most probable outcome: that this is just a case of angst crave, and the attack will happen much later into season 3B (we do have SO many questions that haven’t been answered, and tackling that with a full scale invasion would be incredibly difficult, especially if it lasted ten whole episodes) and season 3B will be predominantly exploring Earth and dealing with the ripple affects of Froggy Little Christmas (also more Sasha and Grime in Wartwood episodes because I am dying to see how this turns out). My main guess is that it’s like a huge ass robot being controlled by Andrias. It’ll try to wreck the parade/festival, which will result in them having to fight it, and will destroy the float they worked so hard on in the process.

TL;DR: The invasion might happen later season 3B and the image of the foot we saw in the older promo is from a robot Andrias is controlling, who will try to wreck the festival. Amphibia season 3B will also focus around the ripple affect from Froggy Little Christmas. The invasion could happen on an eclipse.

#amphibia #amphibia season 3 #amphibia spoilers #darcy wu #king andrias

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fandom-imagines-stories · 3 years

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365

Season Two Premier

Dean Winchester x Reader

Words: 2385

Masterlist

Summary: At peace with her family, Amara gives Dean a reunion he was never expecting. But Mary isn't the only one she brought back. Now two women must adjust to being in the land of the living, one having been gone for 33 years, and the other having spent the past 365 in hell.

Notes: I told you I had something planned! Let me know if you’ve missed this series and if you're happy to see more. Responses mean the world.

Amara looked at each picture curiously. She saw Dean as a young boy, smiling brightly in the arms of his mother. The woman that started it all. Her death put him on this course. This painful, dark journey. Amara set the picture aside, noticing something shine from the back of the drawer.

She took out a small tin box. Inside were more photographs. Amara examined one in particular. It was Dean leaning over the hood of his car. Around his waist were the arms of a laughing woman. He had a glint in his eyes that Amara hadn’t seen. It was then that she understood. Dean would never be with her. He could never join her in her new world. His heart was far, far away. Perhaps she could bring it back to him.

Mary couldn’t get her out of her head. That woman. Who was she? She had looked at her… like she knew her.

“You okay, mom?” Sam asked, noticing the far off look in her eyes. She had been acting strange, but that was, of course, understandable. She just came back from the dead, for Chuck’s sake. She gave her youngest a small smile.

“Yeah, I’m just daydreaming, I guess.” She glanced around the kitchen, noticing an absence. “Where’s Dean?”

“He’s probably going to spend the day in his room.” Sam sighed deeply. “Today is a sort of anniversary for him.”

“Anniversary? For what?” From the look on her son’s face, it couldn’t be good. Sam sat down and motioned for her to join him.

“A few years ago- three, to be exact- we lost someone. Dean lost someone.” He clasped his hands together on the table. The wound of losing one of his closest friends had healed some, but it still stung. Especially today. “He loved her. And she loved him. Maybe too much.” He shook his head. It felt like so long ago.

“Dean found someone?” Mary smiled slightly. She had hoped her boys had been loved by someone, since she wasn’t there. Sam nodded.

“Yeah, yeah he did.” He tried not to get choked up, but remembering still pained his heart. And for Dean… After losing Jessica, Sam wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone. His brother had shouldered it for the past three years, accepting little to no help. He never even talked about her.

“What happened?” Mary asked softly. Sam opened his mouth to answer, but he didn’t get the chance.

“She died.” Dean said, having appeared in the doorway without them noticing. He crossed the kitchen and poured himself some coffee before joining them at the table. “Three years ago today.”

Mary didn’t know what to say. She had more questions, but it didn’t seem like the time to ask them. Sam and Dean both looked… broken. All she could do was offer some kind of comfort. She put a hand on top of each of theirs.

“I’m sorry.”

Dean looked into her eyes and she looked into his. They weren’t the same eyes of her bright little boy. They held so much pain, so much loss. She had to tear her gaze away.

She had only been back for about a week and everything was so overwhelming. She should have been there for them. She should have made sure that they never had to feel this pain. She never wanted them to be hunters. She just wanted them to be boys.

Dean finished his coffee and retreated to his room. Sam looked like he wanted to say something, but he just sat in uncomfortable silence. Mary’s heart ached. She just wanted them to be boys.

He should be used to losing people by now. In three years, he should have gotten over it. Losing you. But even now, the image of your last smile as the hell hound tore away your flesh was burned into his brain. He would never forget. He opened the drawer of his desk and found the small tin box.

A quiet knock caught his attention and he turned to see his mother in his doorway. She gave him a small smile.

“Can I come in?” He nodded in reply and she sat on the edge of his bed. For a moment, she didn’t have the courage to say anything. How would he react? Would he get upset and make her leave? Or would he close up and not say a word? Maybe, hopefully, he would talk to her. He could make her forget how much she had missed. “Can you…” She paused, waiting for a sign to continue. Dean looked at her expectantly. “Can you tell me about her? I know you probably don’t want to talk about her, I just-”

“It’s okay.” He sighed, putting a hand on top of the box on the desk. “Sam’s always saying that if I talk about her, it keeps her alive in a weird, hippy sense of the word.” He shook his head to himself. Mary watched him carefully, making sure she didn’t push any boundaries.

“What was she like?” Dean thought for a moment.

“Stubborn.” He chuckled deeply. “If she thought she was right, you’d never get her to budge and she always thought she was right. God, the fights we used to get into…” He paused, recalling a few in particular. “She had a big heart and wasn’t afraid to show it. She was tough and smart and funny and beautiful. Best damn pool hustler I’ve ever seen. That’s actually how we met.”

Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He ran a hand over his face, trying to hold back tears.

“How long were you together?” Mary wondered. He wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was staring off into memories.

“Four years.” He answered quietly. “She- uh- she was there for me when Sam…” This was more than he was ready to talk about with her. How was he supposed to tell his mother that her sons have been to hell? How did he tell her that Y/N was there because of him? He forced his shoulders back and sat up straighter. “Anyway, um, this-” He passed Mary the box of photos. “This is her.”

Mary opened the tin slowly, peering down at the photographs with a sad curiosity. As she looked through them, her expression changed. She selected one that gave her a clear view of the woman’s face. She was smiling, a beer in hand and a bright glint in her eyes. Dean was beside her, staring at the woman like she was the only thing in the world. Mary’s eyes widened and Dean noticed her body language shift.

“What is it?”

“Dean I…” Mary was hesitant, but she knew without a doubt that she was right. “I’ve seen her before.” Dean’s brows knitted together.

“What?”

“I know this girl.”

“Mom, that-” Dean sighed, “That isn’t possible. You died before Y/N was three.” Mary handed him the picture.

“I saw her, Dean.” She insisted.

The two stared at each other. Mother and son. Dean broke his gaze first.

“I think Sam needs help in the library.” He said, his voice becoming flat and emotionless. “Please go.”

“Dean-”

“Mom.” He stared at the wall, his command firm. “Please, just… I need some time alone.”

Mary didn’t say anything else. She put the pictures back in the box and tried to hand it back to him. When he didn’t make any move to take it, she set in on the desk and left.

Dean resisted the urge to throw the box across the room. The metal was already dented and battered from other fits throughout the years. Dean just kept his eyes trained on the ground, wrapping his head around his mother’s words. She was wrong. It couldn’t have been Y/N. It just couldn’t.

One Week Ago

“Mary?” You gasped, gaping at the woman across from you. Everything was dark, clouds of black surrounding you from every angle. Through the darkness, you could see a woman you only knew from pictures. A woman that had been dead for over 30 years, or at least she was when you were still on earth. You were surprised you still remembered.

“Who are you? Where am I?” She asked, eyes wide with uncertain panic. Before you could answer, you felt something pulling you further into the darkness, yanking Mary back in the other direction.

When you opened your eyes, you were staring at the sky. The real sky. The night sky stretched out, stars shining brightly down at you. So bright you had to shield your eyes. Your skin pricked with every movement. You were cold. You were naked and you were cold.

You stood slowly, your legs barely able to hold yourself up. The night air sent goosebumps up your bare arms and legs. The dead grass crunched under your feet and you took a deep breath.

“Very funny, Levina.” You called into the night. This wasn’t the first time the demon had tried to trick you, made you believe that you were free only to pull you back into your torment. “You must be running out of ideas.” You crossed your arms over your chest to try and stay warm. There was no answer. “Levina!”

“You aren’t in hell anymore.” A voice startled you. You whirled around to see a woman in a black dress looking at you curiously. “Surely, you can tell the difference.”

“Who are you? What do you want?” You took a defensive stance, backing away as she stepped forward.

“I’m the one that lifted you from your torment.” She said it like it was obvious. “You’re free now.”

“You think I’m going to fall for that again?” You scoffed. “You must be getting a little rusty, Lavina. Have to say, I like this face more than the old one.”

“My name is Amara. We have a friend in common.”

“Let me guess; Lucifer? Well tell the dark lord if he’s up for round two, I can handle-”

“Dean Winchester.” She interrupted, making you shut up. “He misses you. I want to give you back to him.”

“Why the hell should I believe you?” You growled. “Dean doesn’t even remember me.”

“You’re wrong.” She shook her head. This time, when she stepped towards you, you let her. “I can’t erase what they did to you in hell, but I can assure you that you are no longer in their grasp. Find Dean.” With that, she just vanished. Poof. Gone.

You didn’t have many options, so you just walked. You found a road and mindlessly walked beside it. Every step ached. You had numbed yourself for so long that every gust of wind felt like a thousand tiny needles stabbing your flesh. You weren’t sure if you were capable of feeling anything else. Only pain.

Headlights drew closer and closer, quickly joined by flashing blues and reds. You didn’t stop walking even when you heard the car door open and close.

“Ma’am are you alright?” The police officer’s voice cut through the night, but you barely heard it. Your ears just kept ringing with the sound of your own screams. You stopped and turned around. The woman was approaching you slowly with a look of sympathetic concern. Being naked and wide-eyed, it wasn’t hard to read her thoughts. But she had no idea the depth of violation you’d been through. You took a heaving breath.

“I need to find Dean Winchester.”

Now

“Dean!” Sam called, knocking on his older brother’s bedroom door. “Dean, we need to talk.”

“Sam, not now.” Dean groaned, opening the door just enough to give him a glare. “I really don’t want to talk or deal with any of your other hippy healing crap.”

“It’s Jody.” Sam pushed inside without giving him time to object. “She said she needs us in Sioux Falls right away.”

“Did she say why?”

“No, but she sounded pretty freaked. Apparently, she’s been trying to get a hold of us for a while, but things kept coming up or we weren’t answering.” Sam sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

“To be fair, our mom came back from the dead and you were being tortured by that British bitch.” Dean countered, feeling guilty for ignoring Jody’s calls. “What did you tell her?”

“That we’ll be there before morning.”

Dean nodded in agreement.

“I’ll pack a bag, you tell mom we’re leaving.”

“I think she should stay here.” Sam suggested, keeping his voice down like it was a secret. Dean gave him a strange look.

“What? Why?”

“She needs to adjust, Dean. Maybe giving her just a few days to herself here in the bunker will help her do that. Besides, we don’t know what’s going on and it could be dangerous and I…” He sighed. “I just don’t think she needs any more excitement right now.” Dean thought for a moment before he nodded.

“Alright, tell her that we’ll hopefully be back in a few days and that she can call us or Jody if she needs anything.”

By the time the two brothers got packed up and ready to go, a dark feeling had settled deep inside Dean’s chest. Something felt off. It sunk into his lungs and into throat, as if a shadow was trying to strangle him. When Sam climbed into the passenger seat, his brother looked white as a sheet.

“You okay?” Sam wondered, half tempted to ask if he should drive, but he didn’t want to get punched.

“Something about this feels wrong, Sam.” Dean muttered, shaking his head as he started the car.

“What, do you think it’s a trap?” It wasn’t totally out of the realm of possibility. With the British Men of Letters and Lucifer out there, it wouldn’t be that shocking that someone was out to get them. But Dean shook his head.

“I don’t know what it is, but with the buckets of crazy we’ve been through, I don’t think it’s good.” The two let that sink in, pulling out onto the road. Hoping to distract himself, Dean switched on the radio. Both brothers froze as the beginning words made Dean grip the steering wheel. Chuck sure had a cruel sense of humor on today of all days.

Sister Christian, oh the time has come…

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

Supernatural: @desimarie12; @deandreamernp; @vicmc624; @halesandy; @livshaes; @d-whinchestergirl87; @mrspeacem1nusone

The Deal Series: @writeroutoftime

#dean winchester x reader #the deal #supernatural series #supernatural imagines #mary winchester #lucifer #amara #sam winchester #dean winchester #jensen ackles #jared padelecki #castiel #season two baby

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darlingpetao3 · 3 years

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Thank You For Ruining My Life: An Homage to Tom Cavanagh

“You’ve ruined all my future expectations of men.”

The costume-clad woman had the courage of steel to say this to the then 53-year-old actor, Tom Cavanagh of The Flash, in front of a ballroom filled with a couple hundred people. This brave utterance was spoken during the 2016 Fan Expo Vancouver convention during a Flash question and answer period with actors Tom Cavanagh and Candice Patton. In its third season, the show was undoubtedly still hitting its stride in popularity, and the room was packed to hear these two speak.

The brave woman whose turn it was at the microphone was referring to Tom’s role as Ed Stevens on the NBC 2000 hit, Ed. I had not known of this show previously, but having now heard such a proclamation intrigued me. “You’ve ruined all my future expectations of men.” That was a tempting notion, and as I continued to listen to this disarmingly charming and wittingly funny man steal the stage, Tom intrigued me even more. I’d watched him play three different versions of Harrison Wells on The Flash since the show’s premiere date, yet I hadn’t truly noticed him in a “life-ruining” way before.

Little did I know that Tom Cavanagh would not only eventually ruin my expectations for men as well, but he would change my life in other ways, too.

After the Q&A, I had this urge to buy a S.T.A.R. Labs T-shirt from one of the vendors at the convention. In my head, I thought I would purchase something so that I could have an excuse to talk to Mr. Cavanagh at his signing booth. Again, he intrigued me, and I wanted to experience more of his incredibly likeable personality. So, I dragged my friend with me to wait for what was maybe ten minutes in a queue. Shortly, I was paying the assistant for my autograph I would soon acquire. They wrote my name on a sticky note so that Tom would know how to sign a personalized message to me. And then, it was my turn.

His eyes sparkled when he turned his attention to me. I instantly had a feeling this was just the way he was naturally. Oh yeah, and I swear to God I’d never seen eyes that blue in my entire life. It genuinely stunned me.

“Hi!” he greeted me.

“Hi!” I responded, equally as thrilled. Tom admired the T-shirt I had brought and took note of my name on the piece of paper. I remember us joking together about the extremely lax security in and around S.T.A.R. Labs on the show, which prompted his message to me on the heather-grey cotton. He wrote my name, [followed by a heart!] and a very welcoming, ‘Come on by, just walk right in!’

I had official clearance from Harrison Wells himself.

I thanked him very much, leaving with my treasure folded over my arms. My friend and I walked towards the hall’s exit, and I couldn’t shake this feeling inside me. It felt strange—I couldn’t name it for the life of me. It felt like an odd fluttering with a simultaneous yet contradictory slightness of breath. My head was confused and would continue to be so for the rest of that weekend.

As I waited at my gate in the airport on that Sunday evening to head home, all I knew was that the moments at the con featuring Tom were the highlights of the weekend for me.

And that I was going to begin watching more of the other films and television shows he’d been in. What was the show the brave cosplaying woman had said ruined her expectations of men? Oh yeah, Ed.

Maybe I’ll start there…

***

Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad…

In my house, it’s never really Christmastime until Michael Bublé croons through the speakers of the wooden stereo system in the living room. It felt especially festive as it was now Christmas Eve—a month and some change since the con. It was late, possibly ten o’clock. I was lying on the floor in front of the Christmas tree with my trusty laptop, a word document open. I was writing three holiday-song short stories featuring the new muse in my life, Harrison Wells. I wanted to be able to post them the next day, so my fingers were taptaptapping away.

I had written a handful of things before 2017, most of which had been Marvel-related, under my second, ‘rebirth’ pen name online. I was a little fish among all the grand and fabulous writers on Archive of Our Own, and in many ways, I still feel like that little fish. I was only just learning and feeling out the psyche of the Wells characters. Each one is so different. In my rewatch of the previous seasons of The Flash, I’d taken diligent notes, and as I’d later learn with each following rewatch, I would know them all—what they think, how they talk and behave—like the back of my hand. It was fun to suss out these guys, and I found that I was growing to love the act of writing even more.

One month later, in January, I would post all the stories I’d written thus far on Tumblr. I’d just created an account and, who knows? Maybe I’d get a wider range of readers on here, too.

Might as well give it a shot, right?

***

Wild horses couldn’t keep me from attending Fan Expo Vancouver 2017, especially when the big news dropped. Not only would Tom Cavanagh be attending again, but so would Carlos Valdes, Danielle Panabaker, Candice Patton, and the convention-elusive star of the show himself, Grant Gustin.

Before the moderator for the Flash cast’s Q&A panel could utter the final thanks to the actors at the end of the session, I bounded from my seat and sped down to the photo op booth where the cast would be taking “Team Up” photos with fans. ‘Sped down’ has to be the most appropriate couple of words because I indeed felt like a true Speedster dressed head to toe as the small screen’s adaptation of Jesse Quick, the angsty and brilliant daughter to Harrison Wells turned superhero.

After waiting in a queue that felt like ages, I was next to stand with Team Flash. As I took a step forward, all of the actors’ and actresses’ eyes—the people I spend time with every Tuesday evening—were on me. I heard a familiar voice approve of my costume. It was Danielle.

“Tremendous.”

Grant even joked that he thought for a second Violett Beane, the actress who plays Jesse Quick, had shown up to surprise them. “I was like, what’s Violett doing here?” he said.

I stood in the back row, happily sandwiched between Tom and Carlos. I dared to let my hands rest on their backs, and I couldn’t contain my joy. Shortly after, when I received my near-instant physical photograph of the moment, I saw Tom had pointed at me. In my mind, it felt as if in his gesture, he meant, hey, look at this cool person. Haha. I couldn’t be further from it.

I would go on to further be uncool in public as I later found myself virtually shaking and almost hyperventilating in line for a one-on-one photo op with Tom. The guy dressed as Kid Flash behind me gave me a few encouragements of the “it’ll be okay” variety. As my turn finally arrived, the lovely man of the hour greeted me with a bright smile in recognition of my Reverse Flash T-shirt (I had done a quick change before this photo op because I had worn a Flash T-shirt for a photo with Grant).

“Great shirt!”

The internet comes up with many hilarious and fitting words, but none such so than the term “Cavanarms.” One of the said Cavanarms found its way around my shoulder in such a casual way. My hand rested on his back, and I have told anyone who will listen about how soft his sweater was. What was approximately a five-second interaction will stay with me forever. And to this day, I will always regret how I’m standing beside him in the picture—there’s a distinguishable gap between us. I could have been closer—should have been!—but I like to use the fact that I felt as if I’d combust into flames if I were any closer to the man.

Maybe I’d have another chance to combust later again that day because, believe it or not, this fan hadn’t had enough of seeing Mr. Cavanagh in person. And since he was appearing at the con for this day only, there was no way I was going to squander any opportunities. Besides, there was still one final thing left on my convention docket: the autograph. In my mind, going to get his autograph was an excuse to get to talk to him and simply be in his presence for longer than five seconds. Here, take my money. I’m a sucker, and I’m proud of it. I saved all year for this kind of thing, and Fan Expo has always been my ultimate nerdy Treat Yoself Day.

Plus, this year I came equipped with a question for Tom (something for which I may have prepared a little too far in advance).

“Which of your characters would win in a lawyering battle: Ed or Miles?”

Miles was Tom’s latest character from his newly released project Darrow & Darrow, a fellow lawyer as Ed Stevens (remember, the man who ruins women’s expectations of men?), whom he portrayed almost two decades prior. What I loved about Tom when I got to ask him this was that he was silent for a moment following the question. He was genuinely putting thought into my question. As he pondered, Tom continued to autograph the photo of us together taken mere hours ago.

“Ed. He would wipe the floor with that other guy. Like, Miles is great, but Ed has a rapier-sharp mind, you know?”

I wholeheartedly agreed with his answer and felt relieved inside for some reason. We thanked each other (as politely as two Canadians can) before I left him to pay attention to the next lucky soul in line. I made the mistake of casting my eyes downward at the signed photo.

Tom had signed two little hearts over the I’s in my name. He really needed to stop adding hearts to my things, or I was just going to melt to the floor. In fact, I started to make these strange noises as I tried not to completely maul everyone in front of me while exiting. My friend ushered me as fast as physically possible on our way out of the main hall. One man took one look at me and asked, “Are you okay?”

No.

“Yep!”

The second I made it out of the herd, I broke out into open space. First came the minor hyperventilating. Then came the squealing followed by laughter. Top it off with various fangirlish comments of, “He’s so beautiful!”, “His eyes are so blue!” and “I love him!” and I was probably quite the sight to see (but at a convention, that’s considered normal!). My friend smiled on as she let me express everything that I had to keep inside until I had the right time to expel my emotions. I was on cloud nine. Ten, if at all possible.

The next day would be the con’s final day, which I would attend alone. My friend needed to catch the ferry in order to prepare for her courses the day after. I did a scan of the convention hall one final time in case there was something I missed purchasing. Afterwards, I sat on the cold hard flooring of the convention centre hallway for a bit of a break. I was wiped out. With my phone in hand, I smiled at the messages from this one Tumblr blogger who had been following my posted adventures at the con. I had seen and replied to many of her comments on my stories I’d written thus far, and I enjoyed her matching enthusiasm for Tom and The Flash in general. I felt her to be a kindred spirit. I had no idea then that I was chatting with one of my future best friends, L.

***

I spotted her.

She was wearing an identical shirt to the one I had on—a light grey T-shirt with a sequinned Spider-Man mask in the corner, which around it read, We met on the Web. A giddy me couldn’t wait for the short escalator ride to end. Her back was to me and facing the baggage claim, so here was my chance to surprise her instead.

I towered over my friend, E, and donned a low, authoritative voice.

“Excuse me, Miss, can you come with me?”

She squealed a greeting to me and I returned it as we hugged for the very first time after two and a half years of online friendship. We would still have about two hours to kill until our mutual Tumblr best friend, L, touched down at Chicago’s O’Hare Airport from across the Pond.

Something I noticed was that E and I carried on talking during our wait like it was second nature, that we hung out like this all the time. Whereas when I met L in person for the first time the year previously, our first meeting was that of quiet, delighted shock, unknowing how to react to one another’s physical presence. It almost felt like a fantasy. The closest thing we’d ever gotten to this was visiting over video chats! I’m not sure what each of these different reactions in these separate meetings meant, but what I do know is that I’ve never had such strong female friendships such as these—so full of uplifting support and love for one another. They are the greatest ladies I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

And as a searching L eventually turned the corner to meet us in the Arrivals terminal, I caught sight of her Tom & Grant bandana tied around the handle to her carry-on bag. It was an item she had received in return for helping fund the short film produced in 2018 (I’d bought the ringtone). Seeing the accessory jolted me to remember that the former of the titular short was the reason for this long-awaited get-together holiday in the Windy City in the first place. Tom Cavanagh, unbeknownst to him, had just officially united three online friends, each from a different country, to spend six full days of in-person bonding and a whole lot of fun.

***

I should have been shelving books.

I should have been doing a lot of library-related tasks, but my head was elsewhere. Anywhere other than the small-town public library where I work. Instead, I sat on the carpeted floor of the Junior/Young Adult section with my phone in hand and a dreadful article title staring back at me.

“The Flash: Carlos Valdes and Tom Cavanagh to Exit after 7 Seasons.”

My world felt like it was falling apart.

Tom was leaving? There had been rumours and wonderings spreading around the fandom regarding whether he was leaving the show. With a storyline ending with a monumental sacrifice and a time-travelling man saying his farewells, it all seemed to point to the fact. I should have known… I could have rivalled Supergirl as being the Paragon of Hope after all the optimism I doled out to my followers and friends who would come to me worried Tom would exit the show. I would always give reasons to deny such a thing could happen, claiming that I’d believe when I saw it.

Well, there it was, and I definitely saw it.

One could feel the ripple effect over the internet of the shards of broken and riled-up hearts around the world.

Tom’s exit was on his terms, having not felt challenged by his character’s plotlines, as mentioned in a recent Entertainment Weekly article. As a viewer—and I am a viewer (Mike and Tom Eat Snacks, anyone?), it has been increasingly difficult to look past the missed shots made by story editors and showrunner, so understandably, the actor would want to seek something more exciting and meatier. That said, Tom has always shone on-screen and taken what he’s been given in stride. He turns unearthed material into diamonds and indeed shines on screen. Steals it, even! Tom easily makes the episodes he’s in better, and when he’s missing, you feel the loss. The few episodes of Season 7 without him only give us a tiny hint at how the show will be without him going forward. It much resembles when you might bring out your favourite jigsaw puzzle, only to find that the one piece you need to complete it isn’t there.

***

On a personal note, as I write this, I am roughly 20 followers away from reaching a milestone of 2,000. I have written well over 200 stories for The Flash alone (whether they be short or long, one-shots or chaptered), and goodness knows how many words I’ve generated altogether over the course of these many years with inspiration from the show and my favourite character. I’ve written and co-written novel-length stories, one monumental Wellsian story of which was done alongside L and E (almost solely done through alternating text messaging in the app, Line) that reached over 108,000 words and consisted of 42 chapters. And when I’m not writing for my blog, I’m also working on trying to accomplish my dream of becoming a published author. Just as I thought before I launched my Tumblr blog, I think again now: Might as well give it a shot, right?

***

I have watched virtually everything Tom has been in that I could get my hands on, both physically and electronically. Sure, a few titles are out of my reach and probably lost to the very early 90's forever, but from what I've seen through Tom's filmography is enough to know that he can do anything. He can play the romantic leading man that will make you fall head over heels for him or a deranged killer that will have you genuinely scared of him. That is talent. Tom always brings something new to the table from each role to the next, and (when he's not playing those psycho killers) you can't help but admire his craft.

Not only is his acting stellar, but from what we as fans have gathered on the man, Tom has got to be one of the kindest men in the business. His humour and sheer ridiculousness could get anyone through a tough time (we’ve seen plenty of bloopers and behind-the-scenes videos to prove this!). He has clearly bottled and stored an endless supply of Fountain of Youth™ and each year continues to wow us with his handsomeness. Tom is charming, dedicated, and yes, arguably holds the world record for Bluest Eyes.

In my eyes, Tom Cavanagh gave me the two best friends I could have ever asked for, as well as plenty more lovely friends I’ve continued to make online. (One day, I hope to meet him again so that I can tell him in person how because of him, I’ve met such very important people in my life). Through Tom, I have truly found my passion for writing, and in doing so, segued me to dare to dream of becoming a published novelist. I wholeheartedly believe all of this would not have happened if it weren’t for those first series of events that led me to meet Tom and love and admire him immensely. He is indisputable proof that there are indeed men like him out there. Indeed, he did ruin all of my future expectations of men. He ruined my life in the absolute best way and I am eternally grateful.

I am very much looking forward to what Tom will do next. I think it’s rather needless to say that I will follow him in his career, as he has gained a devoted fan for life. He represents so much to me and so much of it I have gained since meeting him that fateful day, when I thought to myself, Maybe I should buy this T-shirt and get this guy to sign it. Wherever Tom goes in life, I’ll be here to cheer him on.

I have a pretty good feeling plenty of others will, too.

#i don't exactly want to tag this with his name #but this is a personal essay of sorts regarding tom cavanagh's effect on my life #if you decide to read I hope you enjoy it!

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keyofjetwolf · 3 years

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What was your first?

So a horse walks into a rehab and says “ouch”. And not a lot. Then a great deal. While also saying nothing. It’s BoJack, in rehab, and going about as well as you might think!

“The Stopped Show” may not have been much about BoJack, but “A Horse Walks Into A Rehab” makes up for it by being 99.9% BoJack, setting aside the brief appearance of the other characters to set their stages for when we get back to them. Diane’s in a shitty motel, Todd’s in a seedy alleyway, Princess Caroline has her porcupine baby, and Mr. Peanutbutter continues to deliver cheer while everything around him burns AND drowns. I’ve now touched base with them about as much as the season premier, and we’ll get busy ignoring them.

As I said, BoJack is the star today, and we continue his quest for ... what, exactly?

Trying to pin it down, that “what is BoJack looking for” question, it’s a lot harder to answer than I expected, which marks another instance of me fucking myself, GOOD JOB ME.

I initially said “punishment”, but that isn’t true, or a least, is too easy. BoJack wants accountability for his actions -- which is a very different thing than punishment -- but he wants it in a way that also absolves him from having to do any work to rise above it. So you’d think he’d love this, the constant claim in rehab that he’s powerless. It seems like the answer to everything, a blanket pass to excuse his behaviour because he’s powerless. Why doesn’t he? I’m not sure I’m entirely clicking with the heart of that, so come with me as I have a poke at it.

For one, I doubt very much rehab would begin and end with “you’re powerless, oh well”. Addiction is some nasty business, but in and of itself, it’s a symptom, not the problem. That in mind, we swing back then to BoJack having to put in the work, only now it’s with the removal of his favourite coping mechanisms.

I think what he was hoping to get out of rehab was more along the lines of “Vodka is a naughty irresistible siren who topples even the most noble of men, but if you cross your eyes and click your heels, you’ll be free from her spell forevermore.” And yeah, no.

I think we get some of that in how, for a while, rehab seems to suit BoJack.

To the point I very specifically said to Doc as I was watching this, “Oh shit, did BoJack just become even MORE insufferable?” He’s okay so long as he has the comfort of the scripts and the regimented plant therapy and the same hike every day. When he starts to get fucked is when he has push further, when he has to work harder, when the treatment demands MORE.

“I notice you tend to deflect when I ask you about the source of your addiction,” his therapist says, causing BoJack to immediately deflect, first with a joke and then, when that doesn’t work, attacking the entire system. Getting to the root of his problem is the last thing BoJack wants, to the point where the entire episode ITSELF is one giant deflection. I made a joke in passing up there about our passing moments with each of the other main characters, but that’s actually it, that’s the heart of this episode.

Each of these are efforts by the episode to deflect what’s going on NOW, tempting us with something shiny and interesting, if only we’d take the bait. I ONLY JUST MADE THIS CONNECTION WELL FUCKING DONE SHOW

And of course, there’s Jameson’s story, which is part deflection, part contrast. She’s intended to appear at first like someone BoJack can relate to, a Sara Lynn Pt. 2 that he wants to save and in whom he sees so much of himself. In equal parts, he’s the adult trying to guide her and the force enabling her, and I’d have to do a bit more thinking on whether I thought his success with her was about him walking both sides of that line, or Jameson just, at the end of the day, being lucky. Either way, it’s also not really about her, so much as BoJack talking a really good game at her, while giving her all the tools to make the worst choices.

Which is, I think, where the episode finally settles. BoJack’s choices have been his own, but they aren’t made in isolation. Throughout this episode, we get moments, presented in reverse chronological order, that could on their own answer that key question: When was the first time you drank?

To settle your nerves to get through a scene everyone was counting on you to nail?

To fit in with the cool kids at high school?

To win your father’s approval?

What’s brilliant to me about each of these flashbacks is that the further into the past we go, the more willing we are to absolve BoJack. In the first, he’s a professional actor required to kiss an attractive and consenting fellow professional in the course of a performance. Nervous? Makes total sense. Getting plastered to do it? LESS SENSE.

The high school one is the most damning, which I adore. BoJack’s the butt of some light bullying by the jock, and I don’t mean to completely dismiss that it sucks, but the remainder of events before he starts in on the beers shows he’s hardly an absolute social pariah. And even if he were, once he begins to drink, BoJack doesn’t just become the life of the party, he becomes cruel (demonstrating quite well that jokes aren’t his only tool of deflection). Worse, that he KNOWS he’s doing it, but cares more about his positive attention than their negative. Still, BoJack’s a kid and peer pressure is a hell of a thing. This isn’t a good look, but it’s also not damning, if he’d come to learn from it.

Now we jump the line to, I’d guess, ten or eleven year old BoJack, who walks in on his father having an affair with his secretary, but too young to recognize what he’s seen. Butterscotch can’t take the risk though, so he effortlessly manipulates little BoJack into getting drunk and passing out, then uses BoJack’s shame about it to keep him quiet on the whole evening. UNDER THE GUISE OF BEING HIS FRIEND AND DOING HIM A FAVOUR BY THE WAY. No question, Butterscotch is a son of a bitch, and the only thing BoJack did wrong here was crave his parent’s love.

Even with the high school one being a little more grey, they’re all pretty cut and dry. Remember that we’re following the thread of “When was the first time you drank?” and to land on the answer “When my unrepentantly dickish father lied to me to save his own ass” puts a pretty solid punctuation mark on the whole affair. Addiction may not be at fault, but Butterscotch Horseman is. Case closed, we can go home.

BUT WAIT WHAT’S THIS

Right at the end, when you think we’re done, there’s one more flashback. A party of some sort, possibly New Year’s. The house sounds empty, there’s only the looping of the record player, stuck repeating the same five seconds again and again and again. Butterscotch and Beatrice are passed out drunk, judging from the empty bottles around them. Was it a good party? A bad one? She has her back to him and they’re about as far apart as they could get while still remaining in the room, but also, nothing’s broken? It’s impossible to know.

What we do know is that BoJack, aged about where we saw him in the “Free Churro” flashback so maybe seven or so? Very young, at any rate, and he’s alone. There doesn’t appear to be anything in the room for a child, so it’s probably fair to say he wasn’t included in the festivities. Did he have something to do instead? His own party maybe? Friends to play with, someone to watch him? Did he even get dinner? From what we’ve seen, “no” is a much more likely answer to any or all of these.

AND NOW THE FIRST TO PUNCH YOU IN THE HEART

Tiny BoJack knocks back several gulps of vodka (like a fucking pro, may I add), then crawls onto the couch next to his unconscious mother, pretending for just a few minutes that she’s cuddling him until he, too, will fall into a drunken slumber.

RIGHT SO WHAT THE FUCK DO WE DO WITH THIS JESUS WEPT

Had you told me “Just wait, seven year old flashback BoJack is going to muddy the hell out of this” I wouldn’t have ... okay, well, I know the show, so I probably would’ve believed you, but I would’ve been preemptively grumpy.

This isn’t his fault! But it is! This isn’t his parent’s fault, but it super super is! Nobody MADE BoJack drink the vodka, as the scene goes to great lengths to show. There is nobody to tell him to do anything at all. Beatrice is three fucking sheets to the wind, she has no idea he’s there and he could have pretend cuddled all night AND stayed sober. Did baby BoJack, like adult BoJack, take the drink to calm his nerves for an expression of physical intimacy? Would baby BoJack have even known that was an option? Remember, this is framed as the answer to the question “When was the first time you drank?” Not “took a drink”, but “you DRANK”, the phrasing of which I think is important. It’s all about the root of the problem. What I get out of that question is then is “the first time you drank to numb yourself”.

Baby BoJack is looking at this disaster, this mess that is his every day no matter how many party hats and streamers you stick on it, and he wants anything else at all. So he turns to the easiest thing he knows will take it away the fastest. The situation isn’t his fault. The opportunity isn’t his fault. But the response IS, in a way that EVEN AS I SAY IT, makes me feel shitty.

CONGRATS BOJACK HORSEMAN FOR MAKING ME SEE A LITERAL CHILD SLAMMING BACK VODKA STRAIGHT FROM THE BOTTLE AND MAKING ME GO “okay, but”.

SEASON SIX SHOULD BE A WALK IN THE PARK

#jet wolf watches bojack #it’s no wonder the answers for bojack are so hard to find #when even the goddamn QUESTION requires a dissertation and three hundred caveats #oh i didn't have a place for it really in this essay #but i love the use of the space/planetarium overlay when bojack is really wrestling with his urges

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skellebonez · 3 years

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Smoke, Flasks, and Unfinished Tasks: Chapter 10

AO3 Link!

Chapter 1 Link!, Chapter 2 Link!, Chapter 3 Link!, Chapter 4 Link!, Chapter 5 Link! Chapter 6 Link! Chapter 7 Link! Chapter 8 Link! Chapter 9 Link!

Summary: While the trio and Jin are in the Calabash, the family they left behind try to figure out what to do without falling apart at the seams.

Warnings: Mentions of mouth related injury, self depreciation and negative self talk.

Author’s note: Happy Season 2 premier in a few hours from posting this everyone!

Chapter 10: In The Meantime, Stay With Me

When Iron Fan had said she could get them everything they needed, Pigsy was not expecting that to be a nearly literal statement.

It had taken no time at all for the bull clones to set up a a veritable base of operations for them to use. Long rectangular tables set up and pushed together to make one large enough for DBK to maneuver things on a map, various types of technology that clearly had red Son's handiwork on them around the edges of the map. They used pieces from a mahjong set to mark spots on the map, barring the bonus tiles of seasons and flowers which would be used should they run out of others (and if they did they would allow themselves the worry they were pushing deep down for the moment) and the three dragon tiles. Green for Mei, Red for Red Son, and while Pigsy felt the White tile wasn't the most fitting for MK it was easiest for cohesion.

They had everything laid out in front of them, each location they checked marked off with a numbered suit tile (all bamboo used up first, then moving on to dots, and once those were finished they would use the characters). The 4 winds marked the four major locations they felt needed to be tracked, barring Flower Fruit Mountain as they eliminated the possibility of anyone reaching there outside of PIF, Wukong, and MK themselves: The Bull Family homestead, a temporary place reminiscent of Fiery Cloud Cave just outside the city where they were currently pooling all their resources. Pigsy's Noodles, the obvious place for the trio to go if they managed to escape themselves. The tea shop that the Spider Queen made them aware of.

And one final tile left sitting to the side, ready to be placed should the tea shop lead them somewhere else. They had doubts that the trio would still be there, though did not discount the possibility, since it would be risky to not take them to a secondary location if they knew the Spider Queen had prying eyes. And most everyone who could have pulled this off must have known that to an extent.

Pigsy wished that they could have used some of Red's tech instead of a too large map and mahjong tiles... but most of his tech was locked up tight and none of them really knew how the tech he left with his parents worked anyway. Not even they had a good handle on it, he was the one who typically ran everything when they were all together and he had programmed the operating system to his own needs. While they would have been able to figure that out in time, and Sandy was doing his very best to work out how to unlock some of the devices and would eagerly transfer everything they had on the tables into whatever programs they could access, they knew time was not in their side.

As DBK and PIF and Wukong mulled over who to send to the tea shop and where else they could look if they weren't there, Tang was nose deep in his own phone. Signal was shocking good here, all things considered, and once everything had been established he had started to scroll through social media once again just like he had when the search began. One site, another site, refresh, scroll back up, another site, back to the first, refresh refresh, scroll again.

He hadn't stopped for almost half an hour... and nothing had been found, Pigsy could tell by the shake in his hands and shoulders and the frown on his face.

"Hey," he said softly, reaching out to touch his shoulder. Tang jumped, too immersed in his search and easily startled before he realized who was talking to him. "Come on, I... I don't think we're gonna find anything like that."

"I have to do something, Pigsy," Tang said firmly, refreshing the page he was on once again and grimacing.

There was an edit of the trio someone had posted, a news photo, filtered in bright colors and emoji hearts. "Our Heroes!" laid out on top. Tang almost threw the phone down on the table, just barely managing to slam it down instead and drawing the shocked attention of everyone else as he buried his face in his hands and took a deep calming breath.

Pigsy waved them all off with a frown, and only turned back to Tang when they turned away from them both,

"Tang, this is just makin you upset. You-"

"Have to do something," Tang repeated, shaking his head and looking back up at Pigsy. He looked so tired. They all were, he supposed. "I'm just me. I can and I will help look for them and fight, and you will not be able to stop me, but I can't do... anything else here. I'm not a strategist, I'm not that good with tech, you don't need grunt work done with the Bull Clones around... the best I can do it recite stories about the Monkey King to help us figure out who this could be. And the person who did this might not even be an old enemy!"

"I ain't doin much either," Pigsy rebutted, gesturing over to the unlikely trio of ancient beings across from them. "They may be deferring to me for the final say, but I'm relying on what they tell me to make that choice." He moved, sitting beside the scholar without taking his hand off his shoulder. "So lets distract each other. Work on something else. Maybe whoever did this isn't an old enemy of ours, but maybe they are. Think of anyone who might still be around to hold a grudge and tell me their story."

Tang sat still for a few minutes instead of answering, just leaning into Pigsy and looking down at his shaking hands before they saw the shadow of a Bull Clone fall over the table. Pigsy recognized this one, the only one dressed in attire. A cape to be specific. PIF had introduced him as General Ironclad 2.0, one of the many recommissioned Bull Clones that had to be rebuilt after... The White Bone Spirit.

He placed a tray in front of the duo, two hot cups of tea and two sticks of Tanghulu candied fruit between them (and that was a strange sight, here in this cave, and Pigsy wondered if it was DBK or PIF who had a taste for the treat enough to just have it available like this). Like all the Bull Clones he said nothing, at least nothing that Pigsy or Tang could understand, and bowed before taking his leave.

Pigsy chanced a glance over to the working trio, catching DBK watching them from the corner of his eye. Wukong had a sad smile on his face as he talked while Iron Fan looked... well, he couldn't really tell. She didn't seem annoyed or frustrated, more confused than anything else as she glances up at her husband. DBK gave them a small nod before turning his gaze back to the map.

It was bizarre to him to see them like this. Sun Wukong without his overly enthusiastic smile and laugh or battle roar grimace. Princess Iron Fan without a scowl or a evil smirk of victory and cruelty. The Demon Bull King without his frustration and anger. Now working together for the first time in centuries, possibly ever to his knowledge as he had no idea whether or not Wukong and PIF ever actually did anything together with DBK before he was trapped under that mountain. He... he should have asked the person he once considered to be as close as a brother more about his life before. During the journey they took, before he vanished never to be seen or heard from for 500 years before showing up again just to give the kid he considered his son his mantle.

Maybe... maybe he wouldn't have left if he had.

There was no point dwelling on the past like this, however. Not now. Instead he picked up one of the tea cups and held it in his hands, the warmth not needed in the heat of the cave but still welcome. As welcome as the heat against his shoulder as Tang stayed leaning against him. In time he felt the man move in the same way, holding his own tea cup before taking a sip and sighing.

"You know..." He started slowly, reaching out to take a piece of candied fruit off the stick. The crunch was loud in the quiet of the cave and he spoke with his mouth full. "I have been thinking... Jin and Yin..." He swallowed, frowning. "They shouldn't really be here based on the stories I have learned. The Spider Queen too, I thought for the longest time she died with her sisters, until a few years before meeting her anyway And MK told us about... Macaque." Pigsy frowned deeper at the name, remembering those few days when the Monkie Kid had been run ragged and seemed easy to anger and more eager to please than usual making the tea taste bitter in his mouth. "And he shouldn't be around either. I have my theories, immortality and desires to return to what they were doing before their defeats and all that. But I was wondering..."

Tang paused, sipping his tea before choosing his words carefully.

"Maybe even more of your enemies.... aren't as dead as everyone thought they were?"

Yin scowled. That was the most he could do in his current state. Scowl at the door he was trapped behind.

If he tried he could have probably broken it down. But Princess Jade Face hadn't left. She could have, but he doubted it. She could have done a lot, but every time he tried to guess she hadn't.

He was so stupid...

He hadn't tried to talk his brother out of this arrangement, he hadn't stopped him from making her mad enough to use the smoke, he hadn't thought to check to make sure she was gone when they tried their escape plan.

He could have done so much but hadn't.

He wished his brother was there. It didn't feel right to be alone. They'd been together for as long as he could remember, they were twins after all. Sure, they had spent time apart, but never like this. Not like this. And Yin was cold and alone and Jin wasn't anywhere he could reach.

Yin was alone and he hurt everywhere.

It must have been the smoke itself. It wasn't like a truly hurtful pain, he was able to go about whatever he needed to do. It was a dull pain, like his entire body had been grabbed to harshly and squeezed all over. But he could do what he needed to, like eat. Princess Jade Face had even been "nice" enough to even give him food and water. Good food, surprisingly, meat buns that filled him up nice and good and made his stomach stop aching like it was going to devour him from the inside out.

That made him feel guilty. Jin hadn't eaten as long as he had. He hoped that she hadn't deactivated the part of the Calabash that would trick the person in it into thinking they weren't hungry... or maybe he should hope she had. He didn't like the idea of his brother slowly starving to death while he was filled up with good treats. If he hadn't remembered his brother yelling at him not to let good food go to waste all that time ago, before they managed to open their business and find something they were actually good at, the nausea he felt at that would have made his throat burn.

He wondered if she only fed him to keep him quiet.

It was pointless to think about that right now, though. It was pointless to worry about his brother.

He had to think of a plan. One that had more than two steps. One that actually worked for once in his damned life, one that would actually help them and get them somewhere than hurt and cold and alone and sad and in pain. Unlike all their other plans. Like with Sun Wukong. And MK in the Calabash. The race, though that one was fun.

The only other plan that had ever worked out for them was their job selling tech to other demons, but look where that got them now.

Yin winched as he grit his teeth and pain shot through his upper jaw, reaching up to the spot where one of them was now missing. Jade Face had come in to check on him and found him holding it. He had apparently hit himself hard enough on the way down to knock it out the last time she administered the smoke to his face.

It had already been chipped, weakened from another scrap the twins had gotten into with another demon. Yin wondered if his reflection would make him look like the younger twin he was now, with the gap in his smile.

Yin shook his head, curling in on himself and scowling at the door again.

He was so stupid...

But he would think of a way to get his brother back.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #gen fic #whump fic #sfaut #smoke flasks and unfinished tasks #relationship hint but no shipping

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2018shawn · 4 years

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newborn???

I’m soft for dad!Tom atm so how about surprising him that you’re pregnant by giving him a mini Spider-Man suit. 🥺🥺🥺

a/n: I can’t believe how much I’m writing am I feeling OkAyY??? I really loved this request so THANK U I also really enjoyed writing this and think it may be one of my favourite things ever wieghnksd thank u to @shawnsmoose for putting up with me annoying her

a/n 2.0: can we also appreciate the ending bc I feel it is true tom style ... caring ... but not necessary

warnings: the teeniest tiniest talk of smut until Tom does a tom. swearing I think?? maybe??? fluff???? TESSA. BABIES. HAPPY BYE

You sighed, looking at the ridiculously big clock on the wall opposite you. 6pm; Still at least another hour until Tom got home and that’s with the best of traffic. Straightening the table runner yet again, you brushed over it with your hands to remove any creases before moving on to straightening the cutlery. It was funny, really; that you thought cooking tom’s favourite dinner would somehow soften the blow of the news you had to break to him.

Okay, you said aloud to yourself, stepping back with your hands on your hips to admire your - if you say so yourself – perfect display. Checking under your seat where you always sat, you made sure the small gift bag was there, just in case you’d dreamt putting it there, nodding to yourself when you saw it sat waiting. Might as well make a start on the vegetables.

In the kitchen, you played some soft music to calm your nerves. You stood in the door of the refrigerator, the light hitting you as you squinted at the half-finished bottle of white wine which was screaming your name. It’s gonna be a long 9 months. Sighing as you grabbed the peach lemonade instead; you flipped it towards the counter, feeling super impressed with yourself when it landed upright. Tom and Jake would never, you thought, laughing to yourself as you recalled their excitement on the plane when they managed to get it in the cup holder in one go.

It was safe to say, after one and a half months of him filming in a completely different country, you were ready for him to return as even the pictures on the walls were rolling their eyes at you talking to yourself. Your phone pinged, and you pulled it from your back pocket before it had even stopped vibrating.

Traffic ain’t too bad. See you soon, baby girl 🥺🏡💛

Can’t wait, roastie’s are in the oven and beers in the fridge 🐷🍺

Marry me? 💛💛💛

You giggled as you were about to shove your phone back in your pocket, another vibration forcing you to open your phone screen again.

Actually, that’s not even a question. You will marry me 🍑😈

“Oh honey, I’m homeeeeee!” He sang, and you heard his suitcase roll across the hard hallway floor before it stopped, assumingly being propped up at the bottom of the stairs. You’d missed his goofy ways, he annoyingly loud voice, his warm hugs.

He practically ran into the kitchen, hitting the breaks when he saw you heading towards his direction. “HI,” he screamed, actually running up to you and wrapping his arms around your waist. You think he almost knocked you over, but you knew he wouldn’t allow that to happen. Holding you close, he made a super squishy noise as he bear hugged you, lifting you off the ground.

“Hi, baby” You giggled, pulling your head away, your chests still touching, and arms still tangled around each other.

His lips came crashing down, eager to feel you, touch you, taste you. He’d missed you more than he’d let on since he’d been away. He knew you struggled being alone for such a long period of time, so he took it upon himself to be the stronger one, insisting that it wasn’t long until he’d be home and you’re in his arms. He, of course, felt even possibly worse than you did, wanting nothing more to be home with you, to make sure you’re safe. He’d be lying if he said his brothers coming around to borrow his computer shit was all coincidental.

He tasted of a mixture of mento’s, the mint ones, and cherry pepsi max and it felt infectious. He hummed into your lips as your fingers found their way into his bouncy hair and his fingers curled into your waist, almost like he was checking you were actually real. “How long do we have until dinner’s ready?” He smirked, nudging your nose with his.

On cue, the timer on the oven starting a repetitive beep and he groaned, pouting his bottom lip out like a little kid when you walked away, swaying your hips with an extra bounce. He tried distracting you as you dished up your meal, which was the last thing he wanted to eat with you stood in front of him. “Tom, I need to talk to you first, remember.”

“Yeah, but we could also talk after?” His arms were wrapped around your waist as you spooned the vegetable on his overloaded plate; you were definitely a feeder. You swatted his arm away as he tried to steal a roast potato, which were of course covered in your secret seasoning. He managed to sneak one, groaning and whistling out loud when he realised it was far too hot for consumption. Raising your eyebrows, you scowled him as if to say I told you so.

To say he was more interested in tasting you than tasting his dinner, it wasn’t on his plate for longer than 7 minutes, approx, washing the whole thing down with the rest of his beer. He joked that he’d finished filming now, meaning there was room for more food without a strict diet for once.

“So, you wanted to talk?” He asked, leaning back in his chair as he patted at his stomach. Oh the irony.

“Uh, yeh…” you shuffled in your seat, palms feeling sweaty and throat going a little dry, “I got you something.”

You started to bend down, to retrieve your gift from under the table but he slid back in his chair, causing a screech across the wooden floor, “OOOO, NO. I got YOU something!”

“No, Tom, can it…” he was already out the door heading to his suitcase before you could finish, leaving you to finish your sentence, “… wait.”

He came back through, holding a tiny bag, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead. “There was this little store and I knew you’d love it, because you like silver jewellery, so I got this made.” He shoved it in your hands, pulling the seat out and sitting next to you, instead of in his normal seat opposite. Your heart warmed at his thoughtful gift, although you had to chew at your lip as your nerves built. Inside was a little box, wrapped in a delicate white ribbon, with assumingly the company name’s initials embossed onto the front. It was like he was watching you open a Christmas present, spilling tails of how he thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s got you yet and if you don’t wear it, he will. Your lips parted as you opened the lid, the silver bangle shining up at you. Wrapped around were three separate charms; two T’s, and your own initial. “Because we’re like a little family, right? And I wanted to be with you, and you…” he laughed as he stroked Tessa who was sat under his feet, “even if I’m physically not.”

You weren’t soft, by any stretch of the imagination, but something about tom made you feel like jelly and melt like butter. “I bloody love you, you idiot.” You beamed, “it’s beautiful, thank you.” You couldn’t help but note how there may soon need to be another initial on there, panicking as you played his words over in your mind. We’re like a little family. What if what you’re about to tell him is going to ruin everything? What if he doesn’t want it? What if he doesn’t want you?

“So… my turn now,” he smiled, fluttering his eyelashes at you. You sighed heavily. Here goes nothing. Reaching under your chair, his eyebrows raised with an impressed glow at your organisation, much different to his presentation. He furrowed his eyebrows, hands reaching out for the small, brown gift bag, clinching his fingers back and forth like a little kid himself.

If he thought you opened your present slowly, boy, did he wanna be in your shoes right now. He fought with the white tissue paper you’d wrapped the small item in, muttering to himself as he eventually just ragged it out and threw it behind him, tessa immediately jumping to it and running around with it in her mouth like the proudest dog in the world.

The pattern of the item was familiar to him - how could it not be? The red and blue suit, with black lines decorating the majority, was exceptionally smaller compared to the one he wore on set. His face was scrunched up in confusion, “you know I can just get one that fits me right?”

“It’s not meant to fit you,” you rolled your eyes, reaching over and turning over the size tag that was still attached.

“First size/newborn” he whispered to himself, “newborn...”

He sat for about 10 seconds in silence, and it killed you, because it felt like 10 hours. His eyes finally snapped up to meat your worried overwatch, “NEWBORN?!”

Excitingly repeating the word, he pointed at the small baby grow “newborn?”

Then to his (in true Tom style) his penis, “newborn?”

And then finally to your lower stomach, “newborn?”

You nodded, bringing your lips together into a thin line as you let him digest the news. He grabbed the small sleepsuit, clutching it in his hand as he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around you, wanting to never let go. “I didn’t know if you wanted this yet, and I understand if you’re not ready, and we can talk, but I really think I...”

He pulled you back, a hand on each shoulder, resting his forehead against yours. “Y/N, this is the best fucking this to ever happen to me, to us. Thank you so much...” your eyes filled up, just as his did, only yours was with relief. You’d never considered getting rid of the baby, and hoped Tom didn’t want to either, but you did come to accept that he might not be ready.

“I think I should thank you, it’s you that looked really hot at the premiere. And it’s also you that didn’t pull out quick enough, evidently” You giggled, and he laughed too, using his thumbs to wipe the tears that were only just escaping your eyes.

“You looked hot too.” He stated, giving you a peck on the lips. “How long have you known?”

“About a week, I knew your dumb ass would fly home and ruin filming for something that’s the size of a blueberry.”

“Oh my god, we got a baby blueberryyyy” he grinned, his hand coming down to rest on your stomach.

“I mean, yeh, but at the minute all you’ll feel is just roast potatoes in there”

Tucked up in bed, you rested on his chest, his fingers drawing random patterns on your side as you leant into him. “Are we really.. gonna do this?” You stuttered out, feeling his lips press to the top of your head.

He adjusted so you shuffled gently onto your back, rolling himself on top of you, leaning on his forearms to be careful not to crush you, and your blueberry. “I wouldn’t ever force you to keep it... him... her? Baby berry?... But I know you’re just scared. And I am too but that’s ok.” He pressed loving kisses to your tingling lips between each set of words as your hands toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I mean, we were gonna have one eventually.”

“We were?” You smirked, interested to hear more.

“Mhmmm...” he hummed, moving his lips from your mouth and across your jaw, eventually ending up at the delicate skin on your neck as he spoke, “I think 3. 1 boy, 1 girl, 1 blueberry...” Your laugh filled the room at not only his tom-ness, but the way his breath tickled your neck as he spoke. “In a big house, and another tessa, maybe a couple more chickens because my kids are gonna love dippy egg and soldiers.”

His tongue lapped the areas his teeth were nibbling, swapping his needy, harsh touch for a more gentle approach. You groaned into him, back arching as he grazed all your sensitive spots, his hands running up your t shirt and cupping your breast. You moaned his name into him, with nothing but love filling the word.

Your nipples grew hard between his fingers as he toyed with you, barely noticing how he was moving around on top of you, reaching over to the bedside drawer and rummaging through.

“Tom, what on Earth are you doing?” You laughed.

“Getting a condom?

#dad!tom #tom holland #tom holland blurb #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland fic #tom holland oneshot #BABY

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i-dreamed-i-had-a-son · 3 years

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Alright because clearly I haven't spammed my blog with enough posts about the Mandalorian, here are my thoughts written out.

The finale has left me very conflicted. The simple fact of the matter is there won't be a resolution to this confliction until after Season 3 premiers and I see what they're doing with it from here. It's in a very raw and tentative spot for me, because it could very easily go bad from where they left it, but upon further-further thought, I've moved beyond being largely disappointed and into more of a "I hope to God they do it right" stage.

Initially, I was thrilled with the episode. I, being mostly distant from Star Wars minus the original 6 movies (which I'm by no means obsessed with) and this show, absolutely did not call that Luke would show up--or R2, lol. Grogu's tender touch of Din's helmet, asking to see his face? Destroyed me. It was a very cathartic ending and an emotional wrecking-ball. But even in my temporary euphoria, I remember being confused as to why we didn't get to see the moment when Din and Grogu were reunited.

Then I thought about it some more, and I became...much less pleased. Why didn't Din ask to go with Grogu and Luke (or at least ask where they're going)? Why did he voluntarily give him up so easily? Why did he take off his mask in front of a room full of people and a literal stranger, thus seemingly turning away from a tenet of his Creed? I was frustrated that the narrative allowed these things to happen when the issues could have easily been avoided by having a reunion scene with Grogu and Din alone before going back to the main room and by adding a couple lines of dialogue. This left me worried that Grogu's story was over, that Din was no longer going to follow the religion he has thus far steadfastly adhered to, and that the next season would be spent having him become the reluctant ruler of Mandalore (another man-becomes-leader-against-his-will story when literally all he wanted, as he stated several times, was to save his son. And he just lost him). I felt that the show used fanservice to cover over the fact that they simply didn't have a narratively satisfying ending.

Looking at it again, not all of my issues are resolved, but I understand a bit more of why they did what they did with the story arc. In all honesty, for as much as I treasure the father-son bond between Din and Grogu, the whole plot of the show thus far has revolved around Din finding a Jedi to give Grogu to. Without that "transaction" actually occuring, the previous two seasons would have felt largely pointless. (Well, isn't the real point of the series about Din learning that Grogu is his son and that he doesn't have to give him up?) That's what I'd thought, but really, if that was the plot of the show, it should have ended after season two (with some changes to the ending). Din should've kept Grogu, and that final moment of "No, he's my kid, and he's staying with me," wouldn't leave anywhere else for things to really go, so the show could end with the "dawn of a new day" feeling of potential (where will they go from here?) and that would be curtains. It would work wonderfully as an ending, and I would have been happy with it, but we have another season (which I'm happy about). This means that the plot has to continue to move forward, and that also means honoring the plot that you've already set in motion.

Additionally, I'd like to emphasize what I've seen some people write about: ultimately, it was Grogu's choice to leave. Din refusing to let him go would be acting counter to all of what he had been trying to do--he was bound by Creed to deliver the child to one of his own kind, and that is what he did. Not only would Din refusing to let Grogu go ruin the trust they had established by denying him his choice, and also effectively invalidate the sacrifices he made on his journey (although he learned to see Grogu as his son, many of the sacrifices he made came as a direct result of attempting to fulfil his quest to deliver him to the Jedi, so refusing to do so would render those sacrifices useless to some degree), refusing to let Grogu go would also mean Din would be turning his back on his Creed. He delivered Grogu safely, and let him choose (as he chose on the Seeing Stone) to go with the Jedi.

And if Din were to go with them, there wouldn't really be much for him to do besides...stand around and watch? That's all he did when Ahsoka was working with Grogu--and that wouldn't leave any room for him to grow (nor make for an interesting show). He himself has expressed that he can't train Grogu and has always treated the situation as one that he can't participate in once he gives Grogu to the Jedi. Although they are ancient enemies, so it makes sense why he wouldn't want to just...hang around, I think it has more to do with the fact that in mentorship, you need to see your teacher as a parental figure, in a way (including in Jedi training--take Anakin and Obi Wan, for example). Din wouldn't want to be a distraction, nor would he fit in in that environment. His life wasn't nearly as fulfilling before Grogu came into it, but really, from both a character and a writing perspective, the only realistic choice is for them to part ways.

Also, it is a little short-sighted to assume that the show is only as good as the Din-Grogu bond is. We now have an opportunity to get closer to Din as an individual, which could be interesting, if they keep his character consistent. I think it would be a huge mistake not to bring Grogu back (preferably next season--maybe Ahsoka is right and he isn't good for training since he is too attached to Din? Luke delivers him at one of Din's lowest moments and we get a joyful reunion?? I would take that), but I don't think it's out of line to try to explore Din's character apart from Grogu.

In fact, it might ultimately be better. If the show can prove to us that we're not just there for the bond, but for the characters and their bonds, that's infinitely superior. And the show does need to avoid getting locked into just one thing. In branching out, it's trying to establish a stronger base for what it should build on later. It also keeps things varied, which makes them interesting.

The trouble is, where they go from here is what will determine a lot of the validity in that last statement. Changing the story entirely is a big risk, but that means the characters need to stay the same, at least largely, so that the audience feels that they are watching the same show. And some of the decisions made in the finale can go either way. When Din takes off his helmet, is he honoring his son's request, but thus putting love or emotion above his faith? Is he following his Creed by protecting his child (albeit only emotionally)? Is he turning away from his faith altogether and returning to the broken, lonely man he was before, but now without his Creed to guide him? Is he proving Bo-Katan right? Does he consider those he's with to be family (as they all just saved his child), including the Jedi stranger (because Din is giving Grogu to him, trusting him to mentor him and act as his parental figure), thus allowing him to remove his helmet by Creed? Did he not think of these things at all, and simply acted because his son is precious to him? Really, what does that decision mean for Din's character? The answer ultimately won't be known until next season. The same goes for the plot about the Darksaber. Will this end up being another reluctant-hero story (with the traits of the protagonist being reworked to fit into it), or will this be a refreshing subversion of the trope? We can't know until next year. (And don't even get me started on the "foreshadowing of Grogu as evil" stuff. We had better not see that. I don't need that angst...)

The largest source of my anxiety comes from not being able to imagine how they can work with the show from here to maintain the primary aspects of why I love it. I don't want any romance (but without Grogu, will they feel compelled to add some in?) and I don't want Din to become a typical tropey figure (but with the plot about the Darksaber being set up as it is, will they have the guts to avoid that?). Most of all, I want Din to get his son back, but to walk back that decision after only an episode or two would again make everything that came before seem rather unnecessary.

In summary, then, after oscillating wildly between conflicting emotions, I am just left to say: I can't figure out how they're going to do it, but ultimately, time spent worrying is time wasted. I have to just trust that they've got some ideas. The people in charge have proven that they know what they're doing before (Chapter 15 was excellent, for example) and although they aren't perfect, it would be premature to say it can only go downhill from here--they may well have a larger arc planned out that this proves to be an essential part of. It may well be horrible. It could be great. But for now, let's just make the most of what we have.

#the mandalorian #meta #din djarin #grogu djarin #star wars #my meta posts #this was a lot to type out so i hope it gets some notes at least #please share your thoughts!#kay can i just catch my breath for a second #quality meta seal of approval #not to hype my own post up i just put that on all meta posts so that i can find them #you are a clan of two

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miedemabc · 3 years

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Miedema Volkskrant interview

Interesting interview with Vivianne Miedema in the Dutch paper De Volkskrant, December 29th 2020.

She is the socially-minded top shooter among women's soccer players. Vivianne Miedema (24) has been an ambassador for War Child, which cares about the suffering of children in war zones, for a year now.

Vivianne Miedema is the top marksman in the English women's league with an average of one goal per game: 53 goals in 52 duels. The striker of Arsenal and Oranje is the face of the English league. These days in London they recognize her on the street. 'If I turn on the TV, there's a good chance I'll see myself within five minutes.' With a laugh: 'That's why the TV is off now. But I also enjoy it and I'm in a position to make women's soccer bigger. I take that opportunity.'

Miedema is a self-confident, young woman with self-mockery and ability to put things into perspective. 'We are also frustrated that no one can come to our matches, that I can't go home for Christmas, but that's all part of it. We have to set the right example.'

What is it, one time not going to Holland, compared to the situation of teammate Jennifer Beattie, who was recently diagnosed with breast cancer? She had surgery and immediately said she wanted to play soccer again. 'We are supporting her as best we can.'

Miedema let the year 2020 come to mind. In the beginning, when corona had just broken out, you saw solidarity everywhere, fighting for a better world. Now it's more me me me again. It's just a difficult situation for everyone.'

Black Lives Matter While soccer lay dormant for a time, sport raised its voice against injustice. 'Black Lives Matter, for example, in which America and the United Kingdom are leading the way. We still kneel before games. Soccer is a great example where everything and everyone can come together. You see that in our team as well.'

She knows that men's soccer is more diverse. 'Women's soccer is several years behind. In youth leagues you see more and more mixed, dark teams. That development is positive. At Arsenal we don't have any dark-skinned players at the moment. Ten years ago it was unthinkable for many black families to allow their daughters to play soccer. In the next ten years that's going to change.'

A lot has changed since Miedema made her entrance into professional life as a girl. 'Nobody expected the growth of women's soccer to be so great. That also has to do with developments in the world, with women power. That movement is also helping us. At the same time, the level is rising, while we still have 100,000 steps to take. As for myself, I have an excellent income and can save easily. Girls in the Netherlands, and also in England, don't earn much yet and often have to do something on the side.

That is going to change, she thinks. It continues to grow, especially with three consecutive tournaments three years in a row: Olympic Games, European Championship and World Championship. That's great. Becoming more visible. Take the Champions League: the NOS broadcasted it for the first time via a live stream. Until recently it was nowhere to be seen. If that changes, it's easier for sponsors to get on board, to get recognition.'

Matches in the English league can be seen on the app FA Player, on BT, commercial TV, and sometimes on the BBC. 'We have world stars running around in the Dutch national team these days. That's inspiring for young girls. It's up to us routiniers to bring youngsters in and make them feel comfortable to be able to give as many players a good future as possible. I don't play soccer for money. I also pass that on to young girls. If you base your choices on that, you have forgotten who you are and what you are playing soccer for. Money should never be the driving force.'

Fit and hungry The 24-year-old Miedema remains fit and hungry, no matter how hypothermic she celebrates her goals. Six months without soccer, from March to September, has done her good, after all those double years with club soccer and internationals. With friend and teammate Lisa Evans, she took the car to Scotland, where Evans is from.

We spent four or five months there. Switching off from soccer for a while. I've never enjoyed exercises in the gym and running so much. That says it all. I play soccer because I like the game. Tactically I just want to be good enough that you don't have to run alone. But during the lockdown it was the only option, to not have to sit inside.

'Lisa was my pt, my personal trainer. We were super fit for the new season. In Scotland we had so much freedom. We went hiking, walking. Soccer, tennis, padel. For six months it was a normal human life.'

She started studying: for the Uefa B trainer's diploma, plus a master's in Football Business. That's the first time since she left for Germany as a 17-year-old to play soccer at Bayern. 'I never had the energy, the will and the time to study again. Now I do, and it's fun.'

Constantly broadening her horizons is one of her goals. For example, she has been an ambassador for War Child for a year now, which cares about the suffering of children in war zones. She already noticed during the World Cup in France (2019) that children were following her. I already loved War Child as a child. My mother was an assistant mother at school. Of course I could play a little sport. At every charity run it was up to me whether we raised enough money.

My mother made me aware of the fact that we in the Netherlands, I in any case, have a good position, and that in the rest of the world it is not so easy. During the World Cup I was in my bubble, but after that I saw pictures and movies. Sport is a distraction for many children, which allows them to eliminate suffering and have fun.'

She was previously with the Dutch national team in South Africa, where the team visited townships in Cape Town. 'When you see how much fun you can give children with sport, you want to do it as often as possible. I will never forget how two girls of about 9 years old ran up to me afterwards and wanted to hug me, as a thank you. That was so special, they didn't have to think about danger or violence. With War Child I hope to make a nice trip.

Gigantic response By necessity, in 2020 she was an ambassador who stayed inside. 'Online I was able to do a lot. Movies, videos with examples of exercises. I get a huge response from all over the world. Not only from children, also from parents, from people who like what I do. For me, recording a video like this is a small thing and I can make a lot of people happy with it. Stretching, moving, playing soccer, playing sports. And sometimes get to interact by putting everyone else to work.'Children also take initiatives by raising money. 'It's nice to see kids showing social agility, especially now that we have to keep today's youth somewhat in check and steer them in the right direction.'She laughs a little at that term, youth of today. 'If you are a part of something, you are all in it together. That's why I play soccer and I don't play tennis. Kids push each other to do the best they can for other kids.'Now the season is back in full swing. She is top marksman of all time in the English Premier League and was recently chosen again in Fifa's team of the year. European champion, second in the world. And then she still has a soccer life ahead of her. 'I would like to say that I will continue for another ten years, but you never know. I would prefer to stop at my peak.'Again with a laugh: 'I've broken quite a few records, so maybe I'm already at my peak. But I'm definitely not someone who wants to continue at the highest level if I can't take it anymore. I also hope that people around me will then say: Viv, it's not sitting out anymore, please, stop it.'Miedema bettered Nikita Parris' British goalscoring record in October, with the difference that her predecessor scored about one goal every two games, while Miedema needs one game for a goal. 'I can only run out, but above all I want to help the team. One hundred goals for the national team would be very nice.' She is on 70 and is the all-time record holder. Most of the goals I can still remember. They are all in my head.'

https://www.volkskrant.nl/sport/topschutter-vivianne-miedema-voetbal-niet-voor-het-geld-leer-ik-jonge-meiden~b27b2994/

#vivianne miedema #miedema #fawsl #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #woso #women's soccer #women's football #football

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