#you can even see it's lagging out because there's a kudos there and no hits | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Catch Me If You Can (16/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

A/n: If you like, read, kudo, comment, tag flail, reblog, or anything else, I see you, and I appreciate you! Honestly, it’s the coolest thing how many of you are out there, and every time I find out someone else has been reading, my heart grows Grinch style ❤️

We’re off to London in this chapter and the next one! Fun fact: the Yankees and Red Sox really did play a series in London this year!

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |15 | 16 |

Tag list: @xellewoods @galaxyzxstark @eala-captian @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings @thejollyroger-writer

-/-

“This is weird,” Will mutters as they walk the unfamiliar hallways of London Stadium on their way out to the field to practice. “I’m not used to being unfamiliar with a place where we’re about to play, and I swear that I’m still jet-lagged. Why did they think we were going to get used to the time change in one day?”

Instinctively, Killian wants to get onto Will about complaining since that’s become his thing as of late, but every point that he’s made is valid. It’s weird to be in a place that he doesn’t know. He’s familiar enough with half of the baseball stadiums in America to be able to give a tour like he made the blue prints for them, but they are decidedly not in America.

They’re in London.

To play the Red Sox.

So. Fucking. Cool.

His job awards him more opportunities than he ever could have dreamed about as a kid from Ohio, and while he’s had the opportunity to travel to Mexico and Canada, he’s never been overseas like this. He meant to go years ago, but then the accident happened and all of his plans went down the drain. He could have gone then too. He had all of the time in the world on his hands, and he squandered it by sitting on his ass and not traveling or doing all of the other things he’s always wanted to do.

He’ll have all the time in the world when he’s retired.

Woah, no. That’s not happening anytime soon, and he is not going down that road when things are going so well right now.

They’re going to kick some Red Sox ass even while in England.

His family didn’t fly all the way over here on vacation just for them to lose. Addy and Lucy would be very disappointed in him if they did because he knows for a fact that they only care about being here for the baseball and Addy’s birthday party tomorrow.

All of the cool kids turn six in London, obviously, and Addison Jones is the coolest of the kids.

It’s all she’s been talking about for weeks now, going on and on about how she was going to have an English birthday party and be English like Peppa Pig and Meghan Markle. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that Peppa Pig is animated and that Meghan Markle was technically American first, but some things kids just don’t have to know. All she knows is that a real-life prince and his wife are going to be at the game today, and she thinks that’s the coolest thing in the world.

It kind of is even if he had to study a protocol list for when he met them earlier in the locker room.

Killian’s life is so goddamn weird, but he loves it.

The fact that Emma got to travel here as well, even if she’s not doing on-camera coverage and is simply here as a print journalist for the team, makes it all the better. He may not get to see her on-field during the game, but he’ll see her afterwards.

Hopefully.

They haven’t been here long, but it’s already difficult to find time away from his family to see her, even if it’s only for a moment.

He’d give anything to have those little moments.

“I have no idea,” Killian yawns, finally responding to Will as they push the doors open and walk out to the field. He can tell that the set-up is going to throw him off, the way the stadium is equal on every side, and that the AstroTurf feels odd below his feet. But that’s why they practice. “We’ll suffer through it, and drink lots and lots of coffee.”

“I think they drink tea over here.”

“I believe that they drink coffee too. You want to start in the outfield and work our way back in?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

The two of them are quiet as they take it all in and try to get used to this new place. Music blares over the speakers, and the rest of the team filters in and out as they go through their warm-ups. He’s not sure if he really needs coffee for how hyped up he is to be here and to be playing their biggest rivals, and the crash of caffeine always seems so inevitable. The crash of adrenaline, not so much. Most of the time.

It’s a quick warm-up, one that doesn’t extend too much effort on his part, and his shoulder is feeling loose after the massage Archie gave it. They’ve won each of their series against the Sox so far this season, and he doesn’t plan on that changing now. When they finally travel to Boston next month, sure. But not today.

No part of him should be thinking this, especially with how unreliable his arm can be, but they’re playing so well this season that he can’t imagine them not making the playoffs and then being in the final two.

They could be back-to-back World Series Champions.

But that’s very much counting his chickens before they hatch, and that always leads to disappointment.

He simply can’t go there even if his brain keeps trying to.

“You guys make any wedding plans yet?” he asks Will as they walk back infield to practice a few pitches on the mound.

“We’ve been engaged for exactly a week, so no, we haven’t made any official plans. Belle has all of these ideas, though, and she’s been talking through them with her parents. Honestly, I think we may get married in December or January of this year since she doesn’t want to do it during the season.”

Killian nods his head in agreement as he tucks his chain back into his uniform from where it had fallen out. “That makes sense. It’s always hell trying to plan anything during the season. Even making dinner plans can be difficult.”

“Well,” Will says, clicking his tongue, “it’s not like you have anyone to be going out to dinner with. We don’t count. Neither does Liam.”

A protest is on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t say anything, not yet. He and Emma are going to talk about that after this trip, and even if they do, he’s not sure he’ll be able to tell Will. He should. Will and Robin. And Eric and Ariel. But no one else on the team. It’s just too risky.

That might put a damper in his plan to kiss her before every game.

But the time will come. It has to. And baby steps are fine with him when they mean that steps are happening. He completely and totally understands Emma and her reasons for not wanting their relationship out in the open, and he agrees. It’s better for her, for both of them, and they’ve only been together for two months. In the grand scheme of things, that’s not that long. It doesn’t matter that he fell hard and fast. That doesn’t escalate things.

It just…complicates his feelings.

This thing won’t be hidden away forever, not if they want any kind of future, and while he’d never presume to speak for Emma, he damn well intends to have that future.

“I could be dating,” Killian scoffs at Will who only rolls his eyes in response. “What? I could.”

“Nothing,” Will shrugs, taking position behind home plate. “I’m just saying, for a man who everyone thinks is going home with a new woman every night, you are particularly lacking in the women department.”

His jaw ticks, and he’s not even sure why. He’s never minded talking about his relationships in the past, not to Will, but it’s probably the lie. Of course it’s the lie.

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Will grunts as he throws the ball back to him, a light thwacking sound hitting his glove. “Do whatever the hell you want. I’m not someone to tell you what to do with your life. I’m just saying, I’m much happier having Belle be a part of my life.”

“Look at you being all sweet.”

“I have my moments.”

“I’m totally giving a speech at your wedding about the night that I kept you from throwing up on her.”

“I would have expected nothing less from you. In fact, I’ve already warned Belle. It was in my proposal speech.”

“Shut up, you asshole.”

“Never. I know you love the sound of my voice.”

“It is rather dreamy.”

“You two are talking too much to be practicing,” Eric huffs as walks toward them with his bat in hand, fiddling with it the slightest bit. “What are we talking about?”

“Killian’s lack of a love life.”

Eric grunts at that, eyes scanning between the two of them. “That sounds like a conversation that I don’t want to be in because Ariel will somehow know and insist we talk about it later. She’ll have you set up on ten blind dates before midnight.”

“It’s in my contract that she can’t meddle in my dating life.”

“Really?” Eric and Will ask at once, their eyes going wide.

“No,” Killian chuckles as he stretches out his shoulder and bends his legs a bit, squatting down to stretch out some more, “but sometimes I wish that it was. Where has she been all day, by the way?”

“She’s helping set up Addison’s birthday party for tomorrow, apparently. She’s somehow gotten them a separate suite here, and they’re doing some sort of tea party during the game. You have even been given express permission to sit with your family instead of in the dugout with us.”

Of course. He could have done that anyways, but leave it to Ariel to make sure that there is no way in hell that he’s missing his niece’s sixth birthday party. She is pure magic, that woman.

“Your wife is something else,” he chuckles, deciding to step closer to them so that he doesn’t have to shout, “but you guys know that Addy is fully going to expect all of you to show up at some point.”

“Her present is in my suitcase.” Will smiles as he says it with a slight shake of his head. “I could never forget my biggest fan since Roland seems to betray me on who his favorite player is every week.”

Killian clicks his tongue. “Eh, just to be clear, I’m Addison’s favorite player. I’m not letting you steal that title from me.”

-/-

Killian spots Emma sitting nine rows up behind third base when they’re in the second inning.

She’s wearing a jersey…his jersey, and when he notices it, he nearly pegs Johnson with a ball.

Holy fuck.

It sends blood straight to his groin, and the only thing that stops it is him thinking about Emma making a joke about him having a boner on the mound. She’s so ridiculously funny in her bad jokes, and it brings a smile to his face that he has to control as he focuses on the game. He can’t be losing it when he’s in the middle of a game.

But damn. His girlfriend is wearing his jersey, his name and number printed on the back, and she’s got a baseball cap pulled low over her forehead with her blonde ponytail sticking out behind her. He wouldn’t have recognized her if he didn’t know every inch of her body.

He’ll play in London every day of the week if it means Emma can watch as a semi-spectator without anyone recognizing her.

A bloody siren. That’s what she is.

-/-

They win that night.

-/-

After the game when Emma walks into the locker room, her phone in hand for questions, she’s not wearing the jersey anymore. It’s been removed, and she’s wearing a black blouse that’s low cut enough that he can see the slightest bit of the cups of her bra. He’d bet that she didn’t think through having to remove his jersey when she got dressed, but he doesn’t mind how she looks.

He never does.

(She wore his fucking jersey.)

Except he can’t do anything about it but smile and answer her questions as well as everyone else’s. It’s a bit odd for her to not have Jeff following her around with the camera, but he knows that this means she’ll be writing an article instead. She’s always loved that.

Once all of the press members ask their questions, most of them British journalists, they filter out of the locker room, leaving everyone to strip out of their uniforms and move to take a shower. He’s taking off his belt when Arthur speaks, and his fingers still over the leather.

“I don’t know how any of us aren’t fucking Emma,” he grumbles, and the words make disgust drip down Killian’s spine. “Have you seen her body? I bet she’s fucking amazing in bed. I’d fuck her in a heartbeat. Damn am I glad women work in baseball now.”

The room goes silent, every man stopping what he’s doing, and Killian has words on the tip of his tongue but can’t say anything because Will is already talking.

“Fuck off, King,” Will curses, throwing his gear down on the ground. “I mean, seriously. What the bloody fuck? How shitty do you have to be to talk about someone like that? I knew you were an ass, but God, that’s next level. First of all, you’re fucking married, and even if you weren’t, that woman is a human being. You don’t get to talk about her like that.”

“Oh, come on, man. We’re all thinking it. Did you see her boobs just now? It’s nothing to get riled up about.”

“Yeah, yeah it is,” Will huffs as he crosses his arms over his chest. “The fact that you don’t realize that is just plain sad. She’s not coming in here to get ogled by you. She’s coming in here to do her job, and she’s damn good at it.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, and Killian’s blood boils even more. “Jones asked her out. How is that not the same thing?”

“Because he didn’t ask her out because he thinks of her as a sex object,” Will spits all the while Killian can barely hear any of this from the way his heart is thumping between his ears, a drum beat that’s louder than anything he’s ever heard.

Arthur darkly chuckles, and it’s that sound that has the drumline stopping so that his eyes snap over across the room. Killian didn’t even realize that he was clenching his fists, but when he looks down, he can see the red imprints of blood from where his nails were digging into his skin.

“Jones,” Arthur yells, “aren’t you going to back me up here? Isn’t she a fine piece of ass?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Killian yells before standing from the seat in his locker, quickly striding across the room until he and Arthur are eye-to-eye and completely lined up. Arthur’s got this disgusting cocky grin on his face, one that makes unpleasant chills run down his spine, and it’s taking everything in him not to punch the ever-loving shit out of the man. “Will is right. You’re an asshole, and you can’t be talking about her that way.”

“Why do you care so much? What, are you fucking her?”

And that’s when his first rises and slams into Arthur’s jaw, a sting spreading through his knuckles and up to his elbow. The drum starts beating in his head again, his heart pumping blood through him faster than normal, and everything is a blur as he moves his head to dodge Arthur’s punch and as someone grabs onto elbows and pulls him back and out of the room all the while a screaming match goes on in the locker room, every word muted to him except for the one name that keeps getting repeated.

Emma.

“Are you insane?” Robin gasps, and when Killian looks around, he can see that he’s been pulled off to the weight room that they’re using in this stadium. He didn’t even know Robin was in the locker room at the time. “You can’t punch Arthur no matter how big of an asshole he is. You’re going to fuck up your arm, and you can get suspended for weeks.”

“I don’t really care about either of those things right now.”

“Well you should,” Robin huffs, running his hands through his hair as he paces back and forth over the carpeted floor. “He’s an asshole. We all know that, and I wanted to punch him too…but you just can’t, mate. He’ll get his due, and it won’t come at the cost of your career.”

Robin is right. Robin is always right, but how is he supposed to sit there and let Arthur talk about his girlfriend like that? How is he supposed to let him talk about any woman like that? He simply can’t, and even though his knuckles hurt like hell right now and Archie is most definitely going to kill him, he doesn’t regret it. He can’t, and he’d bet that Will doesn’t either.

“Fuck,” Killian mutters, sitting down on a weight bench and burying his face in his hands as he tries to flex some of his fingers out. “Dammit. This isn’t how today was supposed to go. I’m not supposed to be punching our outfielder in a locker room in fucking London. I’m supposed to be enjoying my time and sipping tea at my niece’s birthday party because I’m this good guy that she looks up to when really everyone is a piece of shit.”

“Dramatic much?”

“Shut up.”

“Never,” Robin laughs as the door opens and Al stumbles inside, his long dark hair pushed back behind his ears and his tanned skin painted red in what Killian hopes is a sunburn and not anger.

“What the hell, Jones?” Al screeches, waling right up to him so that the tips of their shoes touch. “You punched King? With your right arm? What is going on in that head of yours?”

Killian groans, already ready to have his ego bruised and his career kicked by a man who is only four years older than him, and he straights his back so that Al isn’t look down at him as much as he should be.

“Are you in here to suspend me?”

Al’s brows furrow together. “What? No. Why would I suspend you?”

“Because I punched Arthur?”

Al waves him away, backing up the slightest bit. “No, I’m not going to suspend you for that. King can be a piece of shit sometimes, and I heard some of the stuff he was saying. He deserved that. My team are not going to be a bunch of sexist assholes who talk about our reporters that way. I can’t guarantee that there won’t be some kind of league suspension, but I doubt King takes it anywhere since then he’s had to explain the stuff he was saying.”

“Then why are you yelling at me?”

“Because you punched someone with your pitching arm, and I can’t have you messing up your arm again. Go see Archie right now, and get some damn ice on the thing.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Killian mock salutes, his head still spinning with everything that’s happened in the past fifteen minutes.

He takes it back. His life isn’t weird. It’s batshit crazy.

-/-

Ariel has been yelling at him in his hotel room for the past fifteen minutes. This is after Liam and Elsa yelled at him for twenty minutes, each, and he’s so damn tired of having to listen to this. He’s aware of the fact that he could have messed up part of his season today, but he still doesn’t regret it. He could have made better choices, yes, but Arthur deserved it. And he’s fine. He’ll probably only have a slight bruise. The only significant damage is the fact that their already frayed relationship that only truly exists because they’re teammates and his wife is friends with Ariel is pretty much destroyed now. That’s fine with him. He doesn’t want anything to do with the asshole.

And he has no idea what he’s going to tell Emma about this. His knuckles have cuts and bruises on them already, his fingers aching when he stretches them out, and if she comes to his room tonight, there’s no way in hell she’s not going to notice.

Maybe he should cancel on her.

He doesn’t want to cancel on her.

He wants to spend time with her and simply be in her company, maybe even get to figure out the subway routes (or should he call them the underground here?) and find a secluded place to go out to dinner. But he’s got to explain his hand, and he’s really not sure how lying is going to go here.

Lying to Emma really isn’t his best idea, so he most likely shouldn’t do it.

“Are you even listening to me, KJ?” Ariel huffs, stopping her pacing and placing her hands on her hips. “You look like you’re not listening.”

“I’m not.” She reaches up to slap the back of his hand, but he grabs her wrist to stop her, putting it back by her side. “I’ve heard all of it before, okay? And I’m going to hear it again. I know, I know, I fucking know. It was dumb, but I couldn’t stand by and listen to that. Will couldn’t either, but he’s got enough brains to know better than to punch someone.”

“That is not a sentence I ever thought you would say.”

“Life is funny like that,” Killian chuckles before falling back against his hotel bed. Whoever is booking their hotel rooms this year obviously has no sense of a budget because he hasn’t had a roommate once. It’s glorious. “A, I have no idea why you care about me so much. I’m such a pain in your ass.”

“Yeah,” Ariel sighs, sitting down next to his shoulder on the bed so that she can look over at him, her red hair framing her face, “you are, but I love you, so I don’t mind too much. And you give me something to focus on other than my idiot husband.”

“Please, you and Eric have one fight a year, and it lasts about five minutes.”

“I’ll have you know that we fought just yesterday over what to have for dinner. It was a real battle. I nearly punched him, but I had enough sense to stop myself.”

His eyes roll, but he can feel the smile stretching across his lips as he twists his head to look at Ariel. “I love you too, by the way. You and Elsa and Anna are pretty much the three sisters I never had. And you’re much nicer to me than Liam ever was.”

“Please, Liam is your hero.”

“Yeah, but when I was eight and he was sixteen, I was not his favorite person in the world. I think you guys would have been much nicer to me.”

Ariel’s lips flatten as she nods her head, sarcasm practically penned across the lines on her forehead. “Sure, sweetie. That’s what would have happened. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” She simply arches her brow. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just a shitty afternoon. As long as I don’t get yelled at anymore, I think I’ll be perfect and ready to go for Addy’s birthday party tomorrow. Thanks for setting that up, by the way. I think you may actually be magic for how you convince people to do your bidding.”

“I know,” she says, a grin plastered on her lips. “I’m pretty much the best. Do you want to come and get dinner with me and Eric?”

“Raincheck on that one?”

“I’m holding you to that this time,” Ariel sighs, patting his shoulder before she rises from the mattress. “Keep putting ice on your hand, and doing your stretches. We’ve got a long season ahead of us, and you are not allowed to mess it up.”

“Understood, love. Have fun at dinner. Feel free not to yell at me tomorrow even though I know that you will.”

Ariel waves him away before picking up her purse and walking out the door while he stays stretched out on his mattress, wondering if he can convince whoever owns this hotel to send this mattress and these sheets to his apartment because it’s glorious. Maybe it’s not really and it’s simply the fact that he’s still jetlagged and has had an extremely long day, but he doubts it.

This is the best comforter in the world.

And he’s never going to move from it.

So, of course, there’s a knock on his hotel door. Of course.

Groaning, he pulls himself up to rise from the bed, the muscles in his backing aching the slightest bit, and steps over to the door, checking the peephole and finding Emma on the other side. He should have known, and honestly, of all of the people seeking him out tonight, she is his favorite.

Until he opens the door, lets her inside, and the first thing that she does is hit him in the chest.

What the hell?

“What the hell?” Emma fumes, echoing his thoughts. “You punched Arthur King today?”

Bloody hell.

Bloody hell? Is he British now? How long has he been using that phrase and hasn’t even realized it? This is what he gets for hanging out with Robin so much.

“Aye,” he sighs as his unbruised hand immediately goes up to scratch behind his ear. She doesn’t look angry, the same soft smile that’s usually painted on her face still there, but there’s fire behind the green of her eyes. “How do you know about that?”

“Belle told me.”

He arches a brow. “Belle?”

“Yeah, I ran into her when I was leaving the stadium, and we got to talking and she starts telling me all about you and Will getting into a fight with Arthur over me. I mean, seriously, Killian. How could you be so dumb to punch him? You’re lucky you didn’t fuck up your arm and that you aren’t getting sanctions against you.”

He should really start putting money on how many times he can be told that in one night. He’s betting at least once more tonight and then seven times tomorrow.

“Swan, I know, okay? I promise you I’ve already had my head chewed off about this enough times. I get it, but he was being an asshole and deserved it. Will confronted him first going on and on about how he was a sexist pig, and then Arthur brought me into it by asking how him talking about wanting to fuck you was any different than me asking you out on a date. Then I told him to stop, which only escalated into him asking you if I’m defending you because I’m fucking you. And obviously, I am, but that’s not why I was defending you. He doesn’t get to say shit like that about anyone, but especially not you.”

He releases a breath when he finishes his ramble, which is really only an abbreviated version of the events, but he’s going to lose his mind if he has to go through it one more time. Seriously. But the way Emma’s mouth keeps opening and closing, the right words obviously not coming to her, has him rethinking this and starting from the beginning. It’s not pretty, but she deserves to know.

“You, Killian Jones,” she laments, stepping closer to him and wrapping her arms around his waist in an unexpected move so that he can smell the vanilla of her perfume, “are an idiot asshole who I’m still very much mad at for messing with your hand like that, but I’m also thankful that you and Will didn’t let someone talk about me like that. I’ve been through so much like that already, and I’m glad I have you guys on my side.”

“You have everyone else in that locker room on your side, love,” he says as her rubs his hands up and down her back and rests his chin against her temple, twisting his head to the side so that he can press his lips into her hair. “Me most of all. Then Will, I’ve discovered today, and everyone else is somewhere in there, rankings improving as long as I’m always at the top.”

“You’re so stupid,” she laughs into his chest, the vibrations of it running through him.

“I’ve gotten that a lot today, but you obviously like me a little bit since I saw you wearing my jersey.”

Emma pulls back from the hug to look up at him, a bit of red painting her cheeks. “So, you saw that, did you?”

“I did. I have an eagle eye for my biggest fan.”

“I like you a lot, but I don’t think that I’m your biggest fan. Your nieces have me beat. I didn’t know tomorrow was Addy’s birthday.”

“Aye,” he smiles, fingers inching up her back and tugging her closer to him, “she is turning six, and Ariel has arranged for her to have a tea party in one of the suites separate from the team suites. You should come with me.”

“Killian.” The way she says his name has all of his hope deflating, and he immediately dips his head down to run his lips across the apple of her cheek while his thumbs rub circles into her lower back. “I can’t. You know that.”

“You can. You don’t have to come as my girlfriend. You can simply come as part of the team. I’ll say I ran into you in the hallway or something and insisted that you come along. Come on,” he begs, finally kissing her lips, lingering a moment too long for it to be chaste, “come with me. It’ll be a fun time, and you can meet my family without any of the pressure of meeting them as my girlfriend.”

“But I will be meeting them as your girlfriend.”

“They don’t know that.”

“I’m not sure how that makes me feel. I know I want to meet your family and for you to meet mine. It was my idea and all, but now that the reality is in front of me, I think I might need some more time.” She pulls back from him, releasing his waist and trailing her fingers along his arms until Emma’s holding his hands, soft thumb tracing over the rough parts of his knuckles as her brows furrow together. She’s inspecting to him, and nerves rile in his stomach until she looks up at him with a sympathetic smile. “Can I think on it tonight at least? I don’t have a present for Addy.”

Killian shrugs. “We can sneak out and go buy her something, or,” he twines their fingers together and tugs her toward the bed, “we can spend a little time in here with you on your back because it really wouldn’t make sense for you to have a present if you weren’t technically planning on coming to the party.” “Watching TV?”

“Sure. We can keep it on while I fuck you with the image of you wearing nothing but my jersey playing in my mind.”

Emma laughs, something loud and boisterous, and he’s never been quite so thankful for the way that she enjoys his flirting. “I mean, that is the most typical athlete thing I’ve ever heard in my life, but we could always make it a reality.”

“Really now?”

“Mhm,” she hums, backing up into the mattress and sitting down, “but only because I liked the way you looked today when you realized I was wearing it. Plus, you defended me and all like a good human being, and I like good human beings.”

And I love you, he wants to say, but doesn’t, biting his tongue while he leans over her, hovering just above her face so that she blinks several times while looking up at him, her bottom lip tugged between her teeth.

“Well, only if you insist.”

#catch me if you can #cs ff #cs fic #captain swan fic #captain swan

84 notes · View notes

mentalcurls · 5 years

Text

6.4 Basta

I actually half heartedly tried to make a proper post about 6.4 Basta, but I have too many different things to say so listicle it is, keeping with the tradition of my SkamIT meta posts.

in the very first shot, when Ele lags behind as her and Edo walk, she looks so much smaller than him. And like, she’s shorter, that’s a fact, but the shot exacerbates that and I wonder: is it her feeling particularly small? Or does Edoardo feel like the Big Bad Guy/Wolf (aka the epitome of menacing characters) to her?

then Edo starts talking and tells Eleonora how she feels and puts words in her mouth. Does he correctly guess the things Ele is thinking of saying? Yes, he probably gets very close. Does it give him the right of him to speak for her? No. He is trying to make them communicate and that’s good, that’s healthy in a relationship, but then it’s not a two way communication, it’s him telling her how she feels and what she’s gonna say.

Let’s talk about the conversation he imagines between them: he says Ele is gonna tell him to stop punching people; his answer is “Okay, but I told you to stay inside.” and guess what? That’s not a fricking answer to the problem Ele would be pointing out. She’s opposed to the frequent resort to violence on Edo’s part: if she had stayed inside, she wouldn’t have seen the violence, but it still would have happened. Besides, why should she have stayed inside? Who is he to tell her where to go and what to do? She was safe anyways, all girls were since they stayed well out of the fight and just watched. So, what he really means is: “Okay, you seeing me punch people was your own fault because I told you to stay away, so that I could (potentially) lie to you and downplay my part in the fight and how violent it was.”

Then Edoardo continues imagining their conversation: Eleonora would object “Okay, but you have to stop [punching people].” which is a fair assessment of how she’d react to his previous non-answer; then he says ⟪and I’ll tell you: “Okay, I’ll stop.” Peace. The end. We kiss and that’s it.⟫ and here lies the biggest problem imho: the way it sound to me is that he’d agree with her just to stop fighting so they can go back to making out, he wouldn’t do it because he understood what Ele’s problem with what he did is, he’d just agree in order to make up, he wouldn’t even stop to reflect on what he’d done so at the next occasion he’d act just the same and expect Ele to forgive him again too because he’d have a precedent. Again, no two way communication in his imagination, Ele’d be talking but he wouldn’t be listening.

and even outside of the conversation Edoardo imagines, it’s not like he listens. He hears what she says, but he’s got his answers ready, he’s already thought out which objections Ele will bring and he’s prepared to answer

and, I mean, Ele isn’t listening either, she definitely thinks she’s in the right and she’s not open to seeing Edo’s point of view, but to be honest instead of explaining his reasoning he’s just listing excuses and putting words in her mouth

the Edoardo says that thing with the guys from piazza Giuochi were basically over and that no fight would have happened if Marti and Gio hadn’t “decided” to fight. So many problems in such few words. First off, things were not over with the Piazza Giouchi guys, they might have been nearly over in his opinion/from his POV, but look at the chronology:

Edoardo headbutted one of the Piazza Giuochi guys because he hit on Emma but she refused him so the guy called her a whore so Edo intervened

the Piazza Giuochi guys beat up Canegallo and Martucci while Edo was with Ele

two Piazza Giuochi guys got kicked out of the raffle party for starting shit & being homophobic to Marti

the Piazza Giuochi guys caught Gio and Marti alone, hit them, Edo & co went after them

so what I see is a sequence of revenges: the Villa guys win, the Piazza Giuochi guys win, the Villa Guys win, Piazza Giuochi guys try to even out the score. Did Edo honestly thinking that in a general climate of animosity the other guys would just accept being thrown out of a party, because of someone they view as inferior too, and not try to get retribution? Jajaja, que fun, as my queen Lydia Riera would say. Then of course he does the horrible thing of trying to place the blame of an homophobic attack on the victims, so he’s basically digging his own grave here. He backtracks immediately when Ele points out he’s victim-blaming and tries to talk about the experience, very close to her, of a gay person suffering what’s basically a hate crime.

and here’s another thing that bugs me immensely: he doesn’t let Ele speak. He interrupts her when she’s about to go on a rant about homophobia and victim-blaming, then he tells her she doesn’t listen, then when she asks him to listen to her he starts trying to interrupt her and one-up her raising progressively his voice till he’s screaming so loud he imposes himself and shuts her up. Probably because he seems scary and intimidates her into silence, especially when you think that just a couple of days prior she saw him destroy a wooden chair on a person’s back.

he actually yells, so loud it echoes, “Listen to me for a second!” when, honestly, he’s done nothing but talk up until now.

and finally we get to the crux of the matter: Edo doesn’t want to get a lecture from Eleonora. A lecture he knows is coming, one he has imagined and against which he’s probably prepared arguments, even, so much so that even if it came at this point he wouldn’t listen to a word because he’d be too wrapped up in his own retorts. But the retorts are not even necessary cause he’s so mad because of what he expects her to say he doesn’t even let her speak, just yells over her, to avoid that infamous lecture.

So really, he’s asking Ele to see things from his perspective, when he doesn’t want to do the same. A balanced discussion and relationship? We don’t know them.

btw, I personally feel like Eleonora in this instance would be more of the “cold shoulder” inclination, not of the yelling and lecturing inclination, but that’s me; I mean, she avoided his calls for almost two days, she didn’t even want to look at him today, so… (btw, at the beginning Edo tells Ele to stop avoiding looking at him, so he wants her attention on himself, but it has to be the exact kind of attention he wants, which is why he gives her a script of what he wants her to say in a fight and gets mad when she doesn’t adhere to it)

and like, Ele sees things only in black and white, very few shades of gray, lines firmly drawn and not to be surpassed, which means she’s not willing to compromise and that’s not good for communication, the negotiation of conflicts and ultimately relationships. But Edo is also very, very firmly attached to his own cynical vision of things and his Black and Grey Morality, where he gets away with ruthless actions because he’s on the good-but-imperfect side while the other side is much worse (the homophobic assholes of Piazza Giuochi, who are obviously Evil), there is no truly good side and evil is Inherent in the System, so e.g. the police is not a real solution or any help.

so then Edoardo resorts to the Jerk Justification of Appeal to Inherent Nature: that’s just him. Which Eleonora correctly read as an attempt to use the Freudian Excuse of his Dark and Troubled Past, but a Freudian Excuse Is No Excuse so she gives him a "The Reason You Suck" Speech that closely mimics the speech she gave him in ep. 7 season 1 “Ho fatto un casino” (all capitalised and italicized words refer to tropes as categorized by TV Tropes)

the last jab about playing the victim is hella mean, but he shouted her into shutting up so I think we’re mostly even, personally

how condescending is that “You know, no-one is forcing you to be with me”? And it’s an ultimatum at the same time. Edo. Giving Ele a ultimatum. When he’s the one who has shown signs of violent behaviour.

the last look Ele gives Edo feels pretty pointed in my opinion, she’s telling him she’s not stupid and not to condescend her and yes, she’s perfectly aware she can not be with him, would he like if she actually decided not to be?, but the she breaks, opens her mouth to say something… and Edoardo stalks away, having already decided what she’s chosen to do without letting her speak

the poetic cinema of that last shot with Edo in black going one way and Ele with her bright white bag going the opposite way… kudos, Ludo

I’d also like to add that I’m struggling a bit this season. Too few clips, too few social media updates, it feels like I’m missing a huge part of the story (without even going in about Marti facing homophobia again and again and no way for us to see the consequences) and I can never understand Ele’s state of mind. I’m not into this season as much as I hoped I’d be.

#skam italia #eleonora sava #edoardo incanti #incantava #skamit s3 #6.4 basta #skamit meta #a. writes

66 notes · View notes

allondonboy · 7 years

Text

Medicine for the Soul (Ch 6)

Chapter 6 - Allegro molto appassionato: fortissimo (Ch 1, 2, 3, 4, 5)

My half-disappearing off the face of the earth was because I thought my main academic deadline for this year was the end of February. Turns out it's the end of November, which required a brain-aching switch into academic writing mode and...yeah.

Thank you for your patience, comments and kudos, I couldn't have got through this term without them. The next chapter is 80 % written and should be up for mid-December. That and this one are my favourites so far, and I really hope you enjoy them!

Sanvers is 100 % endgame in this little universe.

Thanks as always, Sky, for your help.

Maggie is already back at Stanford when Eliza and Kara drop them off. Physically being near her again takes more getting used to than Alex expected – the stories of couples being reunited with passionate kisses and more had prepared them for more than an awkward wave and the sensation of not being wholly present in the room.

They’ve grown uncomfortably used to Eliza’s misgendering such that Maggie’s gender-neutral language knocks them off kilter. After the emotional whiplash from going from college to Midvale to college again their brain is learning to relax once more, safe and validated next to their girlfriend, but it still lags as they get used to hearing the right pronouns again.

Not that Kara and Lucy didn’t try, they muse as Maggie leads them to her next gig in the gay bar down the road, but the house in Midvale always held a feeling of unease when they were called they.

The bar is lit with multi-coloured lights and it’s early enough in the evening that the buzz is present but not overbearing. Maggie, chewing ferociously on a mint, makes a beeline for the mic in the corner. Alex heads for the bar and orders two beers, setting one on the floor by Maggie’s feet next to her bottle of water.

Alex finds a quiet corner from where to watch Maggie, raising their bottle at her when she searches for them. She sends them a smile, dimples flashing, and they grin back.

The audience around Maggie grows, obscuring their view of her. They slide closer with their refilled drink, eyes fixed on their girlfriend as she puts her guitar away. Maggie smiles as she talks to the people, the girls, who come up to her.

And Rao, they don’t want to be possessive but winter break is still too fresh in their mind and the doubts are sticking to their mind like burs on a coat and they don’t take Maggie’s hand when she offers it, they don’t return her eye roll at another girl’s simpers, they turn their cheek into her kiss, and they stop before Maggie’s door is within arm’s reach.

“Danvers, you coming?” With the gleam in Maggie’s eye, they know she’s expecting a quip and at another time they might have provided one but there’s blood pounding in their ears and something bubbling behind their eyes and they turn, and they run.

In the week since they’d been back, they’d studied, worked their way through the remaining bottles of beer in their room, and moved through all the practice rooms in the music block to try and find the best acoustic.

In the end, it’s the smallest room in the corner of the second floor that they choose. With just enough room for the upright piano tucked at the back, it has a small window out of which a tree is just visible, tall and stark against the neighbouring building. They work through their old exercise books, making the most of the week before classes start to scrape their way to a tone that doesn’t make them cringe in embarrassment.

The practice room is where they run when they leave Maggie’s.

It’s partly because Lucy is in all evening, and Alex isn’t in the mood for a conversation that isn’t moving fast with their feet slamming the pavement: the only way they can dampen the stifling beat of their heart in the base of their throat without damaging a hand that they need to squeeze out double stops and furious glissandi.

Some of them wants to go back to the punching bag they’d hung in Midvale, where they’d taught Kara how to throw a punch.

Some of them wants to go back to the bottle of vodka stashed in their sock drawer.

Most of them wants to scream at Eliza for filling them with all the emotions they’d spent three years trying to bury.

So, they settle for the violin.

Steady hands with an unsteady mind, drowning out the ringing in their ears.

Black notes on white pages, blocking out Maggie’s face.

It’s day three when they find the bottle of scotch their dad brings – brought – out when they have guests over.

It sits unopened on their desk for days four and five, and on day six, they twist the lid off and take a cautious gulp.

Day seven is the funeral.

Half of the remaining scotch slips down easily and it takes them two attempts to screw on the lid.

It’s hard to notice its effect when they’re already so numb.

Weeks two and three are the most drawn out weeks of their life.

At first, they sleep more than they ever have, willing this nightmare to be over each time they open their eyes to a new day and a fleeting second of normality before the eerie silence of the house hits them like a sledgehammer to the chest and they know it’s real, know they can’t be dreaming the vacuum inside them that takes all of their breath and none of their pain.

Then they don’t sleep at all, to put off freefalling through his absence every morning, to put off the dreams where he is alive and happy and joking, to put off another day of the whispers at school.

They don’t surf. He isn’t there to see it.

They study, and they drink, and they practice their violin.

They try to practice.

It’s hard.

After all, what use is a shaking hand from the burn of liquor down your throat and the burn of something else entirely in your heart?

The next day, they sit on the other side of the lecture hall. As soon as they’ve pulled out a pen, the lecture starts, and they look across at Maggie exactly once to see her three rows down, watching the lecturer intently.

They don’t sit in their usual library seat, instead finding a secluded corner. Maggie arrives five minutes later at their usual table and they see her slow as she finds it empty of both Alex and a Tuesday sandwich.

She sits anyway.

Alex comes out of the lab and stops in their tracks. Maggie is leaning against their locker, arms folded and ankles crossed, and she pushes off with her shoulders to walk towards them, concern on her face.

They push past her. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering my texts or calls. I was worried.”

“I – I’ve been busy. I’m sorry.” They yank on their sweater, head still inside the locker.

“Is this a bad time?”

“Yeah, yeah it is, kinda.” Alex grabs their bag and slams the door shut, spinning around to find Maggie closer than she sounded. “I’m in the middle of an assignment.”

They focus on a spot on the wall just above Maggie’s head. “It’s a challenging one and I’m not sure any of our class get it, to be honest.”

“If anyone can figure it out, it’s you,” says Maggie in a way that makes them meet her eyes and they wonder, briefly, how they thought they deserved someone so supportive and with so much confidence in them.

“I knew this was going to happen, I knew it,” mutters Alex and they bolt for the stairs, Maggie chasing after them.

“What are you talking about?”

“I was happy for like, five minutes.”

“What?” Maggie lands at the bottom of the stairs first and stops in front of Alex.

They readjust their bag and shake their head. “I – I’m sorry, this isn’t going to work. It was a mistake. I’m sorry. I can’t.”

A professor slips past them and Alex nods at her. When they turn back, Maggie’s face is unreadable and Alex panics that she’s answered and they’ve missed it.

“Okay.” Maggie takes a breath. There’s a split second where they could jump in and take it all back, but they don’t. “Got it. See you, Danvers.”

No. They wouldn’t miss that.

The implications of what they said don’t sink in until they’re opening their door. They freeze in the doorway. Lucy is on the floor in the middle of a plank and Alex stares at the back of her head.

“What’s the difference,” says Alex slowly, “between a fight and a break up?”

Lucy hits the floor and rolls over. “Well, I didn’t see that one coming.” She sits up and Alex inches further into the room. “You think you broke up?”

“I don’t know.” Alex rubs their eyes. “I don’t know, Lucy.”

“Sit.” Lucy points them to her bed and they sink into it. “Start from the beginning.”

Alex recounts it all, monotonously, twisting their hands.

“What do you want to happen now?” Lucy asks when they’ve finished.

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be here,” says Alex. “I need a drink.”

Lucy watches wordlessly as they open their sock drawer and unscrew the lid of their vodka.

They don’t drink immediately. “I told her we were a mistake.” Alex takes a swig, staring at the scratches on the wall. “I don’t want her to think it’s her that’s the mistake.”

Alex takes a smaller sip then points at Lucy. “You and me, that’s the only remotely normal relationship I’ve had in my life.”

“Watch who you’re calling normal,” Lucy murmurs, her eyes tracking Alex as they start to pace.

“I have an alien for a sister. My dad died in a freak accident which no one is ever going to tell me about, my mom is only interested in me following in his scientific footsteps, and I haven’t spoken to Vicky in years. Maggie is the first person I’ve ever wanted to date, Luce, but she’s too good for someone who can’t balance romance with the rest of their life.”

“Did you tell her that?”

“No.” Alex sips again.

“Call her,” Lucy says. Alex twitches. “Call her and talk to her. Tell her what you told me and give her a chance to respond.”

Alex examines the chemical stains on their hands. “She won’t want to talk to me.”

“And you know that how? With your magical crystal ball?” Lucy reaches for Alex’s phone and scrolls through until she finds Maggie’s number. “Call her. The Alex Danvers I know owns up to their mistakes,” she says frankly, “so go and do that.”

They take the phone but don’t press call. Maggie’s face stares up at them, dimples on full.

“Call her, you useless gay,” Lucy calls from the other end of the bed, and Alex finds the bottle of vodka being prised from their grip. “And therapy time with Lucy is now over.”

“Al, it’s your girlfriend.”

Alex takes Lucy’s place at the door and curls their head around it. Maggie’s arms are crossed and she looks like she’d rather be anywhere else than in front of them. When they look at her eyes and see them resigned, they can’t blame her.

“Thanks for coming.”

Maggie’s fingers tighten in the folds of her flannel and she stands straighter. “I almost didn’t.”

Alex takes a step backwards as Maggie barges through and their arm brushes against Lucy, jacket in hand.

“I’ll let you talk,” Lucy says. It’s a good idea, Alex knows, but they want to drag her back and make her mediate this conversation with Maggie, who looks like she’s trying not to slam the door and get of there.

Maggie fixes them with a cold, unwavering stare and they release a long breath. The room behind them is still and quiet, the corner they’re standing in dim with artificial light, and Maggie’s determined, tilted head is silhouetted against the quietly closing door behind her.

“Do you want a drink?”

“Cut to it, Danvers.” Maggie’s voice is tight and Alex isn’t sure what she thinks they’re going to say. They try to school their features into something less terrified and more reassuring. It feels like a pained grimace so they duck their head and grab a beer for themselves, returning to their serious expression.

“I feel like the universe is magically smacking me down from being happy.”

Maggie scoffs a dry laugh. “That’s it? You gotta give me more than that.”

They sort through the speech they prepared, some of it with Lucy, and pick a new starting place.

“Okay. Okay, I,” they nod slowly and try again. “In the bar.”

“Okay.”

“There were all these women coming up to you. Beautiful women, and yet you still came over to me and that - that is confusing.” Alex takes a deep breath. “And I can’t, I just need to know: what do you get out of this relationship?”

Regret tickles their tongue when Maggie flinches away from them.

“What do you get from this relationship, Maggie?”

It’s more of a snap this time and they expect Maggie to flinch again but her eyes soften and no, no, they don’t deserve soft.

“Alex, what are you talking about?”

Maggie reaches for Alex’s hand but they snatch it away and point a finger at her.

“You, you could have had any woman in that bar, any of them, but you settle for me? Me, who - ” They break off and raise their head to glare at the ceiling.

“Alex.” Maggie’s voice is gentle and Alex steels themselves. “What’s going on?”

“I – I – I just need to know why you’re doing this, why me, why – you could have anyone, and I…” they trail off, blinking angrily as their vision starts to blur with tears.

“Being with you isn’t settling, Alex,” Maggie says, voice low, and Alex’s lip curls into a snarl.

“Yeah? I don’t even know what I am or who I am and you don’t deserve that, you deserve someone normal and, and – and not me.”

“Alex.”

“So I figured, I realised, that you’ve got to be in this for another reason, right? There must be something I can give you to make this,” they gesture to themselves in disgust, “worth it.”

“Alex.” Rao, they didn’t mean to hurt her, they didn’t, but there’s pain in Maggie’s eyes now and they can’t look at her because that’s all they do, they are pain, pain for the ones they love and they can’t, they shouldn’t have even tried – “Alex, look at me.”

It takes a deep breath and their knuckles starting to burn from too tight fists for Alex to finally look at her.

“What’s going on?” Maggie repeats, gently, and Alex starts shaking their head. “You can tell me anything.”

They dip their head and their lip trembles but they don’t answer.

“Did something happen at home?”

How. How did she know?

Alex raises their eyes and Maggie gives a small nod, taking a tiny step forward.

“What happened with your mom?”

There’s so much they want to tell Maggie but saying it out loud sounds like a confession of not being able to cope. Not being strong enough.

They roll the words around their mouth. Off-script words now that Lucy may suspect but never hear, they don’t know, they can’t tell if these words are obvious to anyone but them. They tug at them, arranging them into an order that burns like a brand on their tongue and then they can’t hold them in any longer.

“It’s relentless in that house,” they whisper. “It’s constant. She and her and sister and daughter and I get back here and suddenly I can be they again and I can be happy being me without feeling like I’m supposed to be ashamed of it. You make me so happy, Maggie, but spending time in that house makes me wonder how much I deserve it.”

“Alex.” She sounds like she wants to jump in but if they don’t get this out now they never will so they hold up a hand, a tiny wave, and she nods.

“You know, I have always felt so…responsible. Like, weight of the world responsible. And my parents always relied on me to watch over my sister, so the few times that I did anything for myself, it ended badly, and now I remember why.”

Alex runs a hand through their hair. They’ve never talked about this before. They can’t tell Kara about it. They don’t want to tell Lucy about it and chance pointing out even more differences between them and Kara, and Lucy and Lois.

“My sister… she deserves the world. And when I can give that to her, a safe home away from whatever the kids at school do or say, that’s huge, and I’ve always, always known that I will do anything to protect her including forfeiting myself because when Mom and I get going, it effects Kara. I can’t protect Kara when I’m putting me first.”

It feels like Kara’s squeezing all the air out of their chest and they wrap their arms around themselves, before shaking their head in bewilderment.

“I’ve never doubted myself so much, you know. And I want to be able to say that what my mom thinks doesn’t matter to me but it does. I’ve never doubted that I know myself but…” Alex exhales and shrugs. “Maybe she’s right and this is just a phase.”

“No,” Maggie says firmly, so firmly that Alex’s heart settles instantly. “This is real. You are real. And you deserve a real, full, happy life, as you, in the identity that fits you best. None of us can tell you what you’re feeling, Alex, but whatever it is, it is valid. It is real.”

They search her eyes for the caveat, but there’s just earnest, ferocious, fiery love.

“So.” They puff out their cheeks and gradually blow them out. “That’s what happened. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Maggie steps back and looks at them for a long time before speaking. “We’ve both got ghosts,” she tells Alex, and Maggie’s eyes glaze over briefly as though one of those ghosts has materialised behind them, “but I don’t want this to become one of them.”

Alex reaches for Maggie’s hand. “It won’t.”

“It will if we don’t start talking about this stuff.”

They don’t respond immediately. They run their thumb over the back of Maggie’s hand and let the ripples in their stomach die away.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Maggie squeezes their hand. “Because when you went running off on me, saying we were a mistake, I thought I’d done something wrong.”

Alex’s eyes widen in horror. “Maggie, no - ”

“You made my decision for me, you decided it would be better for me to not be with you, and I didn’t get a say.” Maggie takes a deep breath. “That’s not fair on me. I deserve more than that.”

Alex tries to imagine what happened to Maggie to make her words hold a note of uncertainty underlined with pride. They nod. “I know.”

“And you don’t have to tell me the details, okay? Just don’t run without an explanation. I can’t stop bad things happening to you but I can help you through them and I deserve to be allowed to make the choice to do that.”

There’s a moment of silence, Maggie steadfastly holding Alex’s gaze as firmly as she’s holding their hand.

“You were never the mistake,” says Alex quietly. “You’re not a mistake. You’re real too.”

The hug Maggie draws them into feels more real than anything they’ve felt in the last week and they melt into her arms, suddenly and brilliantly completely in the moment.

Alex stirs and tries to roll over to look at the time. A weight pinning them down stops them and they freeze. Looking down at where dark hair peeks out of the top of their duvet, they smile at the sight of Maggie curled tightly on top of them, nose squished into their chest.

Alex snakes out an arm and flaps it towards their phone, little finger snagging the charger and sending it crashing to the floor. Maggie opens one eye, sees Alex where she expects them to be, and closes it again.

They swear under their breath when Lucy grunts at them and hope she doesn’t notice Maggie repositioning herself.

“Danvers?” says Lucy groggily.

“Lane?” Alex answers as quietly as they can. Maggie’s hand flops onto their mouth and sleepy eyes peer up at them.

“Shhhhhhhh,” she says with the coherence of someone still half-asleep. Lucy is suddenly awake and peeling the covers off them both. Alex pushes her away with their free hand and Lucy dodges it, snickering.

“Cosy.”

“Cold!” Maggie complains until Lucy’s presence registers in her mind and she stiffens. She squirms around as Alex’s hand rubs her arm reassuringly and she tries to pull the covers back over her head to shield her eyes from the harsh light of the lamp Lucy had decided to turn on.

“Lucy, what are you – no!” Alex half lunges towards Lucy as she grabs their phone from the floor and pulls up the camera.

“Smile,” says Lucy. Maggie groans and mumbles something that neither of the other two catch, holding onto Alex as they spill out of bed in slow motion. Maggie clings to Alex like a koala and they end up in a heap with their legs still tangled in the sheets.

“Lucy fucking Lane,” Alex starts, spitting out a mouthful of hair. “You delete that right now.”

“You kiss your girl with that mouth, Danvers?”

“Yeah,” Maggie declares from Alex’s neck. “They do.”

Lucy watches as Alex’s gaze softens and their entire body melts into Maggie. “I see you two have made up.”

Maggie stiffens again.

“Yeah,” says Alex quietly. “We talked.”

Lucy smirks. “Looks like more than just talking.” Alex throws a pillow at her head. “Can I interest you two nerds in coffee, or should I get my books and go?”

Maggie wriggles into a sitting position and clutches the sheets to her chest. “Coffee.”

“We could get coffee later.” Alex hooks their foot under Maggie’s knee and tries to pull her back down.

“Coffee,” Maggie says more firmly, glancing up at Lucy who squints at Alex with an unreadable expression. Alex looks between them and sighs. They roll onto their side and prop their head up with their hand.

“Fine.”

Alex walks between Lucy and Maggie on the way to the café. They keep hold of Maggie’s hand even as they slide onto the bench after her.

Across the table, they see Lucy not so subtly take another photo of them but as they inhale the heavenly coffee fumes they find they don’t care – or at least, they care less than they did that morning, because Maggie’s hand in theirs is small and warm and Lucy’s knee knocking against theirs is so Lucy and familiar, and the messages appearing on their phone screen from Kara in response to what they can only assume is Lucy’s photos is so expected and sisterly and they’re not really okay, but they’re happy, and that’ll do for now.

#nb!alex #sanvers #sanvers fic #sanvers au #alex danvers #medicine for the soul #my fic #*internal screeching*#i swear one day i'll be able to write the end of chapters

9 notes · View notes

peanutdracolich · 7 years

Photo

Peanut Dracolich Watches Horror: The Omen

The Omen is the movie with the Anti-Christ as a child, that’s what it is known as and for and about what I knew coming in. The film was... I will not say it was a masterpiece of horror, but it was a film that knew what it was doing, and worked to do it well. I am not without complaints, but overall if I was rating the film with 10 as MARVELOUS perfection and 1 as utterly unwatchable, it’d come in as worth the time and a viewing if you like horror, something like 6.2 +/- 0.3 would be my guess.

Overall I enjoyed the film and, if I ever run out of new horror films that look vaguely worth watching I’d rewatch it. It had some haunting concepts, and haunting moments. The religious aspect of the horror is a double edged sword, but I was raised Christian and am not the sort to get up in arms about ‘IT’S USING CHRISTIAN ICONOGRAPHY!’ so it worked for me though I’m not sure whether it expected you to have read the Book of Revelations before or hoped you hadn’t.

Now for the quick good/bad/ugly once over and then the play by play below the cut.

The Good:

The Cast: While no one stood out like Charles Dance in Alien 3, everyone was pretty good, and a full cast that gets 4 out of 5, is better than a cast that gets 3 out of 5 and a single dude who gets 5 out of 5 (there are exceptions, but neither movie in question were one). The performances were well done.

The Overall Quality: While few things stand out as great in the film, everything was well done. The visuals were passably chilling. The music was good but not great. The plot was chilling. Nothing alone stands out as ‘this makes the film good’ but everything put together has a cumulative effect.

The Graveyard Scene: It was a good scene. While I will mention it in the Ugly below for reasons, despite the flaw it was a good scene, one of the more chilling and intense scenes of the film.

The Ending: As soon as the stage is set and the final confrontation of man against apocalyptic evil begins the film hits an intense stride. It wouldn’t have worked to have it all the way through the movie, but had it had this quality throughout it would have been a great film, and the ending is chilling and well done.

The Bad:

The Refusing of the Call: Whether it was after being convinced the mad priest knew something ignoring his ultimately dying request to go to this city and talk to this man for information, or throwing away the one tool that could save him, Mr. Thorn was pretty dumb about this, and it cost his wife her life. Shame on you. That said it’d have bee a rather short film if he’d not gone to find out about the mother from other sources first.

Mrs. Thorn: While she was not bad exactly, the fact that she was so much a character intended to support Mr. Thorn, more of a prop for his character than a character, was a detriment to the movie. It’s not the biggest, but it is there and she’s still the most important female character in the film.

The Lack of a Point of Excellence: The film was sort of the Mario of Horror Films. It’s greatest strength is that it was slightly above average across the field. It’s greatest weakness is that its greatest strength was ‘slightly above average’. While nothing stands out as bad and that is a very good thing nothing stands out as great and that’s a sort of bad thing. It leaves it enjoyable, but not heart engraving.

The Ugly:

The Graveyard Scene: It stands out in the film for looking like a stage with props. It’s an intense scene both for the emotional and the danger bits, but it does stand out as visually jarring and not in a horror inducing way.

It Had Me Rooting for a Child to Die: I mean by the concept yeah this is a necessity, but... I don’t want to root for child murder. I don’t want to do that. Also there were a few times Damien seemed less ‘evil child trying to gain power in the name of his father’ and more ‘scared and confused child’ which managed to make it worse, and I’m not sure if that was intentionally or just Damien being stupid to set up later things.

And now the full play by play. Exactly as written while watching the film so... some stuff is halfway in note form.

The Omen

My previous knowledge: It's got the anti-christ child. Spoooky.

Its opening has ominous Latin chanting. This is to be expected and it's not bad. It sets a certain tone, but it's the tone you want in a movie about the Anti-Christ Child.

The actual beginning of the film is 70s. It feels 70s. The energy is... less than I've started associating with 80s films, and it just looks a little different. Still it begins with creepy dialogue about the child being dead, a man coming to a priest and distraught, his child dead, and unsure what to tell his wife. The priest suggests adoption, but he says his wife wanted her own. The priest and a nun tempts him with one that resembles his own, saying he need not tell his wife and he could just swap them. The child has no relatives. It saves the child, and gives his wife one to love, a child given them by god. If he'll only lie to his wife for the rest of their lives. That's a sort of messed up thing for a priest to suggest. Like it feels just wrong for a priest to suggest lying to your wife for the rest of her life. The man succumbs to the temptation.

On the one side he's saving a child, which is good, on the other he's lying to his wife, which is ungood. Knowing what I know, he's also saving the anti-christ and putting him into a family of power which is also ungood.

Music is good, gives heartwarming feeling, helps the impression that this is a man who loves his wife (even the lie was to keep her happy; not justification but a thing of love still), a wife who loves her husband, and a couple who love their son.

And then they're on a walk and Damien (the boy) who lagged behind has gone missing and the music changes to the terrifying. I know he's the Anti-Christ child, I know he's not going to be hurt, but I still feel fear for the child, fear that something has happened to him, and perhaps something to spur him onto his destiny (despite vague memories via pop culture osmosis that the first instance is his birthday party). This is the sort of fear that Child's Play should have had me feeling at the end, the fear that despite knowing better that something still might happen to the child. The film had pulled me out too much, the Omen hasn't had a chance to do that.

Of course we then get to the birthday and David Warner pulls me out not because of the quality of the film, but because of the knowledge that I recognize that dude but who and where? I still don't know, even so he's a good actor from my memory. And movie I get it the dog and the nanny are creepy. I will accept that the (cute, dangerous, scary) dog is creepy and so too is the vaguely off nanny. It's not actually bad, it's an effect that you need to be willing to accept (it's a little corny and overly direct telling as opposed to showing) but it works and sets things up for the nanny's suicide making there be a clear cause and then when the boy waves at the dog you must wonder if he commanded it. Altogether it's well done. Kudos film. Kudos.

The nanny was apparently drugged, or so we pick up from the papparazi. Then a priest arrives to see the father for 'urgent personal business', a priest that Mr. Thorn doesn't recognize the name of. The priest starts saying you've got to accept Christ as your savior and take communion, that only through Christ can he fight the child of the demon. He is a witness to Damien's birth. It's well done. Creepy. Nice face on the priest. well done music, rising to intensity at the right moments. It all feels like it comes into place well. The priest says the child's mother was a... I can't make it out even watching it twice. Mr. Thorn is stating the mother was his wife, as if he's lied so long he's started to believe it, after all it is a lie he wants so badly to believe, still his face shows that he has doubts, that he still remembers nagging in the back of his mind. We also get a bit about images in photos that I'm sure will be important later.

New nanny is becoming quite creepy. And not because she looks a little high, but because she seems to believe she has a special connection to Damien, and was sent by the agency instead of being found by either parent - almost as if Satanists murdered their old nanny to get her in place. "Have no fear little one, I am here to protect thee" In another film it would make her Obi-Wan, with the music and framing of the scene however she comes off as creepy.

After Damien freaks out when they try and take him to church for a wedding, Mr. Thorn starts to grow concerned. The boy has never been sick. The governess has also brought in a stray dog (the one from the party) that does not like Mr. Thorn and Mr. Thorn does not like the dog. His power in his house is being taken by this new nanny. She is a threat. She should be gotten rid of (seriously bringing in a stray dog like that is a red flag when you're an ambassador you can get a new nanny that doesn't pull those sorts of security risks).

The priest gets Thorn to talk to him again, by saying Mrs. Thorn is in danger. He tells Mr. Thorn to go to a town and talk to an old man there to learn how to kill Damien. He also claims Mrs. Thorn is pregnant and that Damien will kill the child and Mrs. Thorn, and eventually Mr. Thorn himself. Mr. Thorn leaves and the weather grows cranky and tries to kill the priest leading to ominous Latin chanting. He tries to escape into a church. The lightning rod is struck by lightning and falls to skewer him.

Mr. Thorn returns and Mrs. Thorn tells him she wants an abortion and is pregnant. Also the doctor is making her cranky at people? Is it a psychiatrist? Is she on pills? It's a psychiatrist, ok. She also thinks Damien is alien and evil. THIS IS WHY YOU DON'T LIE TO YOUR WIFE ABOUT WHOSE CHILD IT IS! THIS IS WHY! He refuses to have an abortion because between the newspaper report of the priest's death and the news he's a believer now; it was foretold that this pregnancy would be terminated, and he will fight the Anti-Christ by ensuring it is not. He will fight the will of the Devil's child!

So Damien kills Mrs. Thorn by knocking her over the railing of a banister. This is why you don't fight the Anti-Christ without a plan. Ok she's in Intensive Care not dead. Still he didn't even make it home from deciding he would fight the Anti-Christ before Damien managed to cause a miscarriage. Well at least Mrs. Thorn is aware Damien is trying to kill her now, and she asks Mr. Thorn not to let him kill her. This is... well it's not really progress. It's losing. Mr. Thorn you are losing. You need to go and talk to the old man. This isn't a video game, you cannot go and faf around poking at things in the base area attacking cuckos and playing minigames, you need to go and talk to the old man in a cave so he can tell you what to do. I mean old man in the city.

Meanwhile the dog is a good dog and protects its boy as it should, growling at Mr. Thorn who has bad thoughts towards the boy.

Photographer man arrives to provide info. The priest had a 666 "birthmark", and a diary about Mr. Thorn. Oh and those vague images in the photos: demonstration of how he would die, and there's some in the pictures of the nanny who died. As the photographer continues to give Detective Info Dump, we learn that he has a personal stake in the case; his death is in the photos as well, the Devil wants him.

The Nanny has managed to get rid of the housekeeper lady. She is taking more and more of Mr. Thron's power over the household. He must get rid of her. Mr. Thorn it is no... Oh may the hot place take you (as I feel it liably will) you should have gotten rid of her, too late now.

He goes to Rome to where Damien was born. TALK TO THE OLD MAN! GO TO WHERE THE PRIEST SAID! Still he wants the record of who Damien's parents were, the hospital burnt down, it started in the records, and moved to the maternity and nursery, destroying all records that there might have been. They go to find the priest who tempted Mr. Thorn who has moved to a monastery. TALK TO THE OLD MAN!

As they speak to the Father, or more the monks at the monastery, about the importance of 666 and they talk about 6 being the number of the Devil and the Unholy Trinity instead of 'it's the Number of the Beast from the book of Revelations' I sort of eye roll and have to decide, I can play along with the film, swallow down some of my critical thinking and enjoy it, the atmosphere and such is nice, the effect of the movie is good, but it has things that if I do not work to swallow down can (and are pulling me out of it). Normally I'd swallow it down, unless watching with people and chatting, but typing up like this is sort of like watching with people, so I might not be able to do it. We'll see.

And now they're at a really Stage looking cemetery looking for the mother. It's... Well it just looks very stage-like. It is out of place in this film, because well it hasn't previously had anything that looked this stage like and it is a little distracting. Not a horrible thing, but worth noting. Though as Mr. Thorn calls the cemetery a terrible place (and opens the grave of the mother) I realize it reminds me of the graveyard in Army of Darkness. And now I know what the priest called the mother: A dog. Also we learn that Mr. Thorn's son was murdered ): But the demon dogs come to threaten them.

Make that attack them. They're a scary breed (I'm bad with breeds), and the attack is the first real immediate danger scene we've had and it works as horror. When Mr. Thorn's arm gets caught on the fence, you know it's too soon for him to die, but you still feel the danger. It's a good scene, the music is well done but the volume is a bit problematic as it gets so much louder than the film it goes from 'not the easiest film to hear' to 'ow my ears it's too loud... and making my speakers screech'.

Mr. Thorn tries to save his wife by getting someone to take her out of the country (like he is) but it is too late. The nanny shoves her out of a window. This was a window she was directly facing and we don't see the shove just the fall, making this much better than the scene in Child's Play. She falls through the roof of an ambulance and her face looks... fake. Still not a bad scene and... You know I should feel more fear when the wife is in danger but... She's seemed 'disposable character' too much. She exists as a motivation, an extension of Mr. Thorn himself. This is a thing that commonly happens with wives (and loved ones) of characters in fiction, and I can't wholly fault the film for it (as it is so common and a rather natural part of narrative as only so many characters can be important given time and relations define people so ultimately you have relations with less important characters that define them; it's a film in the 70s so the main female character being this is expected), but it weakens it here as it weakens the impact of Mrs. Thorn's death scene. Still Mr. Thorn now wants Damien dead well and truly and finally they go to Megiddo and the Old Man there.

Megiddo is an excavation site near Jerusalem and the destined site of the battle of Armageddon. They meet the Old Man in a half excavated ruin making it a cave. Yes he went to meet an Old Man in a cave. He gives Mr. Thorn 7 daggers that must be stabbed into Damien in the proper order in the shape of a cross, on hallowed ground. Seems simple enough. Force a super powered hell-child onto hallowed ground, then stab him in proper sequence; oh but first you have to shave him to find the birthmark to make sure. Oh and because Mr. Thorn has second thoughts and THROWS AWAY THE HALLOWED KNIVES, the photographer dies in a random accident while retrieving them. Fuck I did not see that coming (until the obvious start of the death), I... Good. I mean if I had been paying attention to the time (the film has < 20 minutes left including credits) I might have, but still that's a nice curveball.

Mr. Thorn returns home. He seems determined. We get a tense scene with his entry into the quiet, now alien house, switching between the dog, and odd angled shots, camera work setting a tone and the minimalist music made to invoke sounds of the dog's movement working well. Once he has dealt with the dog, music begins again and some of the tension is gone, in fact the music almost comes off as forced and corny. Still he knows what he must do, shave a sleeping child... Who is Satan (yes I know the Anti-Christ isn't exactly Satan but shush, they invoked the trinity first and therefore the Anti-Christ is Satan in a meaningful way).

Shaving the child is wonderfully easy, and the numbers become immediately apparent. While he stands there and reels in shock, however, the demon nanny arrives and sends Damien... hiding in a corner when told to run. He knocks her out by hitting her into a wall and begins to take Damien, however he didn't check the body and she comes back for vengeance. This is one time I wasn't screaming to check the body so... I'm going to not fault him for it. Wrestling the Satanist nanny with cutlery is... more tense than anything with Michael Myers. Yeah I know that Mr. Thorn will win, but shit she's scarier. Crazy lady that is fought in a struggle that looks life or death is scarier than super strong and invincible crazy man who is fought in struggles that look like children play fighting poorly.

The police chase him as he leaves his home. I'm not sure why a policeman was trying to stop him from leaving, maybe to question him about his wife's death, maybe to... I don't know. I can believe it... except that I wrote it and then it felt off. He brings Damien into the Church. "Please Daddy no!" "May God help me." "Police, freeze! Drop or I'll fire!" BANG!

Mr. and Mrs. Thorn are buried together. Chillingly we see implication that Damien has been taking in by the President as a ward. Then we get the Bible verse about 666 and I narrow my eyes at the film in annoyance.

The film was... it ended well. It was not a film to scare you, but it was a horror film. It never, for example, made me raise my legs (I almost did at the 'oh shit' at the end), but it did work as a horror story, just not an adrenaline pounder. The final scenes were intense and came close.

I'm not sure how good the film was overall. Immediately after it feels much better than my mid-film judgment of 'middling', but that's a psychological effect of the increasing pace in the final act at least in part. I'm still actually going to say it's on the good side of average. I enjoyed Covenant more (Covenant is actually the film to beat this October for some reason), but it was an enjoyable film. It's music is not up to John Carpenter's level (it is honestly the best thing about Halloween and Prince of Darkness, the Thing edging it out with awesome practical monster effects and Kurt Russell), but is not bad it simply is not film making on its own. It does not have any actors who truly pop out with talent like Charles Dance in Alien 3, but has a well rounded cast that does the job well which is by the superior thing (if everyone is good no one stands out like that, yes a single great actor can improve a film, but a standout like that is a sign that the rest of the cast just isn't on the level). The movie did everything a bit above adequately, except that it had me groaning a bit too much at the protagonist.

#peanutdracolich watches horror #The Omen #Good film #But not too good #Averagely good

3 notes · View notes

jenroses · 7 years

Text

Organization?

This is for @thehausghosts and @ishxallxgood I guess, lol.

First of all, most of the things I write start out as one idea, and usually something that comes out in under 5k. Plot bunnies happen, and that’s where it’s really easy to wander off into distraction land, and honestly? I don’t fight it all that much.

Google docs and Chrome make it pretty easy to keep things from getting lost.

I wish I could give a steady answer for “I outline things and then I write the first part, the second part, etc.” but that is simply not how my brain works or how I work best.

The muse is fickle, but is most responsive to consistent attention.

So what I’m describing below is not “the” method, but “some methods” that have worked for a couple of different pieces.

For me writing comes first and foremost from ideas. In Check Please, the idea that sparked the Rules series was simply this idea that Bitty told the Internet his parents didn’t know they’d met his boyfriend, and I’ve had a little experience on both sides of the coming out thing, and so I let my inner Mama Bittle flow. That’s the short thing. Someone said they wanted to see Coach’s response. That provoked a longer story. I’d hinted at something in both stories that readers wanted to see, that got the next part. None of this required much planning.

Then Rule Number Two’s plot bunny hit, and hit hard. I wrote it quickly. Like, I think it was a couple of days? The idea was cohesive--someone figures out what’s going on between Jack and Bitty and they decide to come out. Everything around that just followed logically. Organizing it was simply a matter of breaking things at “breathing points”. Breathing points are the places in the narrative where either everyone’s gone to sleep or there’s so much drama that the reader needs a moment to deal. (or a week, in serial television.)

I don’t do chapter breaks “because I’ve hit my writing goal” or “because I’m tired of it and want it posted.”

I have a lot of little scene breaks throughout any piece longer than 5k, usually, and while I might choose to turn one of those into a chapter break for length, I want my chapter breaks to make sense.

Some stories get chapter breaks by the day, or by the week. Some get them by the emotional milestone.

I think it’s kind of like a sculptor, staring at a block of marble and chipping things away to find the art that is already there. As writers, we are presented with an idea, that is this formless block of thought, and we have to shape it and push it and paint it with words until the idea is realized in a form that the reader can resonate with. Chapter breaks and chapter lengths are a byproduct of the story being told. So in my YOI fic, some of the stories are about a single night, or a single week. Some cover a longer span. Two of the earlier stories are almost exactly the same length and one of them has 7 chapters and the other has none, only scene breaks, because that’s how the story went.

And that brings in the series. Here are my long things: Facing Janus (X-files), 250k, 3 “acts”, 30 chapters (including the prologue). It is not a series. The action covers a month or so, IIRC, but is one story from start to finish. It took me 10 years to write (but the first 6 chapters took a few months and the last 200,000 words took 6 weeks). I knew when I started what the gist was, and it changed dramatically once I picked it back up again, but I had in my head several of the scenes SO clearly and was mostly writing my way from one to the next so that they would hang together. (Scully walking over the border and how she did it was HUGE in my mind through the whole thing. I legit thought that would be the end of it.) (finished 2008)

Symbolon. Doctor who. So the two little stories up front were written pretty much last. Symbolon was the beginning for me, and the bookends for the series were “Even RTD says there’s no way Rose would have stayed with the clone” and “The Eye of Harmony must be restored”. And I knew there were a lot of upsetting canon things that would change if Rose stayed, so I explored that, and Jack’s arc had pissed me the fuck off so I wanted to write some resolution to his pain and grief, and and and and next thing I knew I’d written 250k in about 10 weeks. The main thing that kept me going was that I did NOT allow myself to publish before it was done, and I really wanted to share it. Chapter breaks happened when they happened. The story breaks were obvious within what I knew was going to happen. I spent a lot of time during those months curled up under a shower in the bathtub with my mind on another planet and I’m not even kidding, it was the single most immersive experience I’d ever had as a writer. IIRC I wrote it almost entirely in Open Office, which was great because I could turn on the UK dictionary and not look incompetent for the most part, but HORRIBLE for proofreading. Dear god. It got proofed in email. 2010 seems a long time ago right now. But it was the happy ending for the tenth doctor that would NEVER happen on air.

I published Therapy (90k, perpetual WIP but not a terrible ending point) in the Castle fandom during the summer of 2011, while pregnant, as a throwaway “I’m writing this between now and the season premiere” and I had a lot of ideas but didn’t track them well, the thing was a disorganized mess and I swore off publishing WIPs for a long time.

Somewhere in there I rewatched JAG, wrote 90k, abandoned it, never published it anywhere because there was no one interested in JAG fanfic and I couldn’t bring myself to finish. I also wrote a few one-offs for Stargate, IDK when, that might have ended up being a huge thing but then I decided I hated my OC a lot and that it was not really all that interesting once I’d taken care of the annoying plot holes the series had left around Moebius and Egypt... Those I posted and got practically no feedback and so didn’t really continue.

So then I got bit by a bug and was really pondering this original concept and just let it percolate for a few years. I wasn’t going to write fanfic. I wasn’t. I had this idea. But I was also very busy and knew my kid would start kindergarten in 2017, and so I wasn’t going to write fiction until then. (yes, you can start laughing at me now.)

Fastforward to early 2016. Here’s me, struggling with depression and undiagnosed and diagnosed health issues, and I was looking for something to watch on Netflix, and there was Merlin, and the ratings were good.

And I watched. And I watched. And I got angrier and angrier. I nearly turned it off. I kept going because, and this was literally my mantra, “The fanfic is going to be amazing.” And it was. And I read... god, so much fanfic in the Merlin fandom. It’s a pretty large fandom, with a lot of fics, and I sorted by kudos and read and read and read until the quality dropped.

And I got involved in the fandom and there was a rewatch and after seeing the whole series and getting mad at it, I reluctantly started it again, got to episode 8, and went, “Well, if Merlin could go back in time, THIS is where he’d go back to to fix everything.”

THAT, folks, is how Plot Vorpal Bunnies are born. I started writing, and wrote feverishly, and signed up for a Big Bang, and was like 50k into this thing....

When someone (*cough* @ayantiel *cough*) in the Merlin Chat said, “I love that my fandom can generate a fic called, “Exeunt, Pursued by Heteronormativity”.

There was a record screech in there as I scrambled to go find Check Please and that fanfic, and then I was lost in Check Please for a while. I wasn’t going to do a big fic. I WASN’T. I did a few little throw-away one offs. And then Mama Bittle happened, and next thing I knew I’d written something like 70k for the fandom, and I was seriously in danger of not getting my big bang thing finished for Merlin, so I dragged myself back to that, got an artist, got inspired, finished that, and then came back to Check Please to work on Healing Rules (which is still not finished but because Google Docs never forgets, I actually have worked on it.) Right around then I hit my late-year lag and my no-fucking-way-am-I-writing-NaNoWriMo stubborn streak, and fandom started talking YOI, and we know how that went.

THIS IS ALL incredibly long and roundabout and I’m going to post it under a cut and then reply to my own thing to talk about the organizational systems I have now, because I actually do, and they help.

#Mine #writips #my writing

5 notes · View notes

iopticks-blog · 7 years

Text

Will we have a 50% market crash in this decade? I think not.

In the currently frothy valuations, and 0 interest rate policies, I ask myself whether or not we going to have a 50-60% market crash? I think not.

The technician in me tells me that Warren Buffet is right in predicting very low returns over the next 10 years, due to current valuations. The saying that what goes up must go down keeps echoing. staying in such a market is still the right thing to do, unless you believe you are going to get this low return while the next correction is going to be as big as 2008. To me, the next big crash is going to be a 30% and not a 50-60%. Let’s try to build the basic scenario and ask how probable it is:

For a market 50%-60% crash to take place I consider we need to 3 things to happen:

1) A “return to normal” of interest rates.

2) That there’s no such thing as new normal (lower for longer).

3) That central banks reaction function will be lagging and slow as in the past (e.g. 2008).

Why do I think each of the 3 is needed? As Buffet says, it’s all a question of interest rates. If the long term real interest rate is 2%, a revenue stream capitalized based on this rate is the equivalent of P/E of 50 in equities. If it’s 1% then it would justify a PE of a 100 (PV of perpetuity = annual return/annual rate). I’m the first to agree that an investor’s expected return and capitalization factor is not determined only by FED’s rate, but it’s certain that there’s a lot of influence. That is to say, I am convinced that if rates won’t return to previous normal, we can never expect the same PE levels or debt yields to serve as a reference point. If we agree with “lower for longer” on rates, we should embrace “higher for longer” for P/E ratios. In other words, I’m claiming that for a 50-60% crush to occur we have to ignore history, and hit the market with previously seen 6-7% rates. In lower rate environments of 2-4% any correction will be taken as an opportunity to enter the market. Furthermore I consider that even if the RATES OVERSHOOT, the FED, ECB MUST ignore the ensuing price reaction & economic slowdown for such a crash to take place. For a full blown crash people need to feel there is no bottom and there’s no one to bail them out. On the contrary, if (3) does not occur, I consider that central banks can re-flate anything back if acting fast enough. I’m not saying this system is good. Only that in such a system equities is the place to be.

So if you are convinced like I am that such a crash requires 6% or higher rates, as well as silent central backs, read on and ask yourself how probable it is.

Let’s assume that we will return to normal interest rates. Is it going to be the previous normal or a new normal? I think that post 2008, post QE and post the current negative interest rate policies around the world, there are new proven tools in the game, and new go to rules of response. It’s obvious to me that there will be a “lower for longer”, and that the new normal is a lower interest rate. The big reason, as I see it, is that until the monetary system somehow collapses via a meaningful migration to crypto currencies, it remains very beneficial to both corporate and governments to exploit the fiat money “tax by inflation” system. The erosion of fiat money is a tax. Now that you must use it, You must use it even if there isn’t an interest rate incentive to save it, and even if there’s negative rate incentive not to hold it. These are new circumstances where the only good usage is when you are a debtor – either corporate or government. The other side of this equation are today’s coerced suckers of monetary systems everywhere in the world. Until the current monetary system is abandoned (and this is very difficult to do legally), the sovereign can keep playing us with lower rates. And just because they can, they will. This, for me negates (2), and confirms a lower interest rate “new normal” will persist for the coming decade.

However, I believe central banks will test the water and continue raising rates until it’s too much, too late. It’s because they have near 0 control on the lead/lag/momentum of the resulting inflation. It’s not fly by wire but rather fly by telepathy. At one point, when inflation starts rising they’ll raise more, or too much. In other words, I don’t believe central banks will ever play this game “well”, or nail it to perfection. It has never been the case and will never be the case, and even if it was, there is always going to be another cause to trigger a recession. Every cycle comes to an end eventually.

So even with lower for longer, at some point, the markets will reverse, the central banks will be wrong or too late, and a considerable correction will ensue. With this decline in mind we will remain with evaluating the 3rd argument. Will central banks react?

The problem with crashes, is that they are quick and dramatic, and that central banks are slow to react. But if central banks have learned anything from the last crisis, it’s that there is ALWAYS more room for manipulating the markets with negative rates, and that there are tools for actually forcing negative rates, as well as bond yields. That is to say, central banks may make mistakes as in the past, but have become much more adept at reacting (or manipulating the markets as some say), taking more drastic measures to revive the credit markets and indirectly the equity markets. While that’s all they do - fixing the financial markets, the byproduct effects on the economy are real. After writing this last phrase I notice how well the term fixed fits. Now, maybe the word rigging comes to mind when you read this and live this, but if you don’t thinks this was is and will be the right response, then maybe you have not the last crisis hard enough. Kudos to Bernanke.

To conclude, I believe we can count on a faster stronger central bank response next time, and while I’m not happy that about 3 CB chiefs are somewhat rigging the global markets, it reassures me that a 50% crash will most probably be avoided. In other words: CB chiefs have seen and learned 2 things: that if they don’t act heaven can and will fall, and that monetary policy can do a lot to save the markets (even if it harms the average Joe).

Sadly, all this doesn’t tell you when and if the S&P will take a 30% hit, but I really don’t see how it will go to 1200.

There’s one more argument that will make such decline so improbable. Since the equity indices represent nominal currency denominated numbers and in 2017 the USD, EUR, and YEN are not remotely their equivalent of 2009. A return to 1200, is equivalent to a return to 900. The rest is just hidden inflation. You can take a 100 economists that will show you inflation curves to show the contrary, but for me, there is hidden inflation and measured inflation, and thankfully you have BitCoin, Gold, Real estate and Equity Markets (yes), to give you an alternative view of the decline in the value of the dollar and real purchasing power.

When listening to people like Mr Draghi, I become very confident that bankers won’t sleep again. There are many countries now that know how to pull their QE trigger, and will compete on who pulls it first and who pulls it harder. Hopefully, this will save you if you are in the equity markets.

1 note · View note

downmexicoway · 5 years

Text

tuesday

February 26, 2019

Day three in Mérida. I didn’t write yesterday or the night before because I went to sleep once my head hit the pillow. The sun was both my source and my zapper . We did nothing that first day, the three of us lazing by the pool until the sun made its full arc across the blue sky. Lisa was in her pajamas until past five pm, when she decided to order us all spaghetti bolognese to eat on the good china. I dipped in and out of the pool all day, deciding once my hair was dry, it was time to get it wet again.

It takes a long time to get here, but the hour time difference makes the jet lag much more tolerable. I was greeted by Lisa and Thad at the airport, then they whisked me away to dinner in a cafe in Santa Lucia square. Margherita pizza and a margarita - absolutely perfect.

As I type this, there are pigeons drinking lightly chlorinated water from the courtyard pool. They land on the (non-functioning) water feature on the rock wall, and if they see the coast is clear, they fly to the side of the pool and lean over to take a drink. These pigeons must be very brave, because the resident dog of the house is a schnauzer and he is protective of his space. The pool is in a place where the birds have to turn their backs to the house in order to get a swig. You must be really thirsty to even attempt this - so kudos to the pigeons.

At night, bats dive down and you can sometimes feel a wisp of their wing as they fly past. They are so prevalent at night that guano builds up on the sliding glass door that provides entry directly from the pool to my guest house. “We had to scrape it before you came," Lisa says, laughing. She is scared to death of the bats, but both Thad and I find them to be exquisite nighttime guests. He and I both enjoy swimming while the bats dive around us, seeing only blurs of black in our periphery and feeling the air change ever so slightly. It seems every avian creature finds a way to get water in the heart of this bustling concrete city.

I digress.

Today was filled with driving around the city, trying to get permanent license plates for their new Mini Cooper. The temporary tags expired on the 19th, which made them nervous to drive anywhere until they got the new plates. All of our efforts today seemed to have been in vain, though. The three of us were sweaty, hungry, thirsty messes as we limped back in through the front door. Lisa cracked open a small can of Coca Cola, and Thad sat at the table, fuming.

If there’s something I have learned how to do well, it is soothe an angry man. I cut up the fresh “Miel Pina” that I bought at the market that morning. Presenting it to my lovely hosts, I could feel the shift in attitude begin. Accompanying the fresh, sweet, succulent chunks of pineapple, I set my pen upright in front of Thad. “For whatever ails ya,” I said with a smile.

Then I sat down and watched my magic in action. Thad’s face softened with every bite., He got off his cell phone and tuned into the jazz I started playing through the bluetooth speaker. His posture became less stiff, shoulders slouching a bit as he ate more and more of the pineapple. Soon, he reached out and took my assured anger stopper: the pen. With one breath, the curtain closed on our shitty day, and the fresh air swooped in to fill our lungs. We made dinner plans, and then I jumped in the pool.

Water has a way of always baptizing me, no matter where I am. As soon as my body is immersed and I start to float, all of my muscles begin to relax. I become aware of my breathing, which anchors me totally in the moment. I shut my eyes and feel the power of the water overcome me. In this moment, I am born again.

0 notes

valntinemorgenstern · 7 years

Text

Review: Lord of Shadows

★★★★★

As always, my thoughts on Cassandra Clare’s books are prolific, multiplicitous, entangled, sometimes joyous and delighted, sometimes troubled and difficult; I could happily write numerous lectures and essays on this woman’s books, and Lord of Shadows comes as no exception. So, in the interest of keeping this as readable as possible, the first section of this review will contain my general thoughts, and the section after it, a more detailed (and, probably, sweary and incoherent) fangirl mess list of my very spoilery thoughts/opinions/feelings.

General

In my opinion, Lord of Shadows is a huge improvement on Lady Midnight (I wrote an exceedingly long review on it last year that more resembled a disorganised splurge, but in sum:). For me, LM was an enjoyable, enthralling read as Cassandra’s books always are, but I was baffled by the claims that it was her best-ever book. For me, it consistently failed to hit the right chord, the characters didn’t spark on the page; the pacing lagged, and then rushed; I had a multitude of issues with plot, structure and character decisions. Most of all, the characters failed to draw me to them in the way that I was accustomed to with most of Cassie’s vast cast of characters. I’m pleased to say that I feel mostly over all of that now. I’m certain that this was also present in LM, but I think I appreciated this a lot more, given how much easier I was with the story as a whole — I was consistently impressed in this instalment with the quality of writing. LoS is strewn with some fantastically lyrical, poetic flashes of prose that, as I was reading, I just had to kind of sit back in astonishment, turning over that scintillating metaphor, or that line of dialogue, or that paragraph of description in my mind. At the risk of repeating myself, it’s obvious that Cassandra is, stylistically, far more mature, daring and sophisticated than the Cassandra writing TMI 6 years ago (I also think that this is related to a greater tendency to indulge in some flowery and exploratory prose, hence the ever-growing length of her books, but I’m not complaining).

I think by nature of the fact that this was the second in the series, there was no time that had to be spent lingering over long expositions and the tediousness of setting up unfamiliar characters; it didn’t take 300 pages for the motor to start turning. One of the developments that surprised me was how much the narrative eye in this instalment really starts to wander from Emma / Julian as its primary focus, as it mostly is in LM. I absolutely loved how much it started to scoop up the rest of the Blackthorn family, and even other characters like Arthur and Kit (though I can imagine there are some Jemma fans who might be a bit disappointed with this decision). For me, having this distance from Emma’s POV was wonderful / I really welcomed the opportunity to attach myself more deeply to other characters (to be honest, I wasn’t hugely enamoured with Emma in LM) and this made the story so much easier to invest in. In the end, it has actually warmed me to Emma a lot more, so I’m happy.

Very Spoilery

FREAKED OUT by how many things I ended up predicting (without knowing I ws predicting them?) Consistently dogged by the feeling of déjà-vu and that I’d secretly thought that thing might happen. By no means had an exhaustive list of theories, only a couple of solid ones, and the rest ephemeral, half-baked, flippant daydreams of ‘oh, what if x got with x? wouldn’t THAT be a twist!’ and then….it happened. It happened with: Dru and Jaime becoming a thing (what sort of thing has yet to be seen, but HMM); Kit x Livvy (like, Livvy what even was that? hey you’re a male; you’re in my line of sight!); Arthur’s death (this is a whole topic in itself and Don’t Get Started™); the hinting that Ty and Kit may become parabatai in lieu of an immediately romantic relationship (their dynamic reminds me so much of Will and Jem) and thus HA HA history repeats itself in both ways…

OVERJOYED about the fact that Mark x Emma never properly materialised. Last year, this was not only an alarmingly popular ship, I thought, but also one that Cassandra seemed to be teasing would be become canonical in LoS. At this point I legitimately and seriously considered whether or not I’d bother reading Lord of Shadows, as this was probably the biggest NOTP I’d ever had. It was a deal breaker for me. So, very pleased.

I went into this determined not to ship Mark / Cristina / Kieran as a three way, and wow oh WOW, did Cassie utterly, remorselessly obliterate this! Major, major FUCKING KUDOS to Cassie’s skill and craft here for managing to completely overturn the way I feel about this polyamorous ship. I completely take back everything I said about feeling uncomfortable with this, because DUDE I am struggling to see how they’re gonna avoid a threesome at some point. This ship is electric and has so much chemistry, I’m not gonna lie, there were moments where I was thinking I was shipping it even more than Jemma…

LOVED everything in Faerie. Just! Ugh! Loved how dark and dreamy it was and the high-fantasy overtones and how reminiscent it was of mythology and Goblin Market and Arthurian romance.

All the classical + 18/19th literature allusions! The lit student in me was elated. ‘The nightmare life in death was she’ MY SOUL WAS IN COMMUNION WITH YOU CASSIE.

So lovely to return to London again! (and, woah, wasn’t expecting them to be there most of the book?) Tempered, though, by its portrayal as run-down, neglected Institute that has (somehow? I WANNA KNOW CASSIE) fallen out of The Herondale’s hands and into the management of The Highsmiths? Made me very sad indeed to see this.

i could write a whole meta of the depiction of Herondales in this book. (Lmao for a series allegedly supposed to focus on the Blackthorns and, for once, not-about-the-herondales, they still end up being a pretty damn important)

There is like, not a single POV from Kit (shocked by how huge his role is in this book?) where his Herondaleness is being mentioned, questioned or alluded to. HA I EAT THIS SHIT UP

How delightfully frustrating that, with regards to Kit, far more questions posed than answered. (The woman in his dreams? So he remembers his mother? How come only now? How the hell do the seven riders of Mannan have anything to do with him / how do they recognise him? Evidently the mysteries surrounding his heritage are tangled up in Faerie as well…) Loved how protective he was of Ty, and how brilliantly they work together. In LM, Kit was depicted as very sheltered and innocent, but he really comes into his own in LoS — loved how he was starting to mould what he’d learnt from his father with what he was learning as a Shadowhunter.

TMI DREAM TEAM REAPPEARANCES FUCK YESSSSSSSSSS MAGNUS YOU’RE A BABE AND HAVE THEY MADE STATUES OF JACE YET??

THE ENDING

T H E E N D I N G

WHAT IN GOD’S NAME

It was like: trundling along nicely, some angst, but danger is mostly over, cue some boring meetings (Idris tho!! I have missed you!) and then — BANG BANG BANG BANG! Magnus (and Tessa?!) is/have been illWHAT?! Robert is dead, and Livvy is dead. CHRIST ALIVE. One thing after the other.

Did not see any of that coming. At all. Gut-wrenchingly, heart-stoppingly shocking stuff. I had to put the book down, and gaping, looked up laughingly and whispered a series of profanities to myself. That said, I expected Robert to die at the end of TMI (and was sincerely surprised he managed to survive it — had a whole theory about it) and wondered, at the time, why Cassie kept him going. Now I see why she waited till now: a strategic decision, so that there would have formed a dark force i.e. the Cohort to replace the vacuum his death as Inquisitor would leave with.

Livvy!!! I am so, terribly sad.

I am also so so scared for Queen of Air and Darkness.

#lord of shadows #LoS spoilers #cassandra clare #the dark artifices

18 notes · View notes