#& the last male is inspired by his more skinny / long faced characters

[kazuaru]

Junji ito inspired sims.

[sundaysundaes]

My Words, Your Thoughts (Teaser)

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut | Soulmate AU, Friends-to-Lovers AU

Part of the beautiful ‘Aubade’ collaboration hosted by @hyucksie​

Synopsis: As an introvert, you are familiar with the silence. Drowning yourself deep in your thoughts has been a habit you’ve become addicted to. Your life begins to change, however, ever since the day you turned twenty. Suddenly, there’s this song that’s stuck in your head, and no matter how much you yearn to hear your thoughts or be comforted by the silence, it keeps on playing. You only get to find the answer to your problem when a young, cute barista hands you a cup of coffee one day, with that song’s lyrics written on the side. And you realize that you’re not the only one who’s been hearing voices in your head.

Warnings: explicit sex, expletives, mentions of physical abuse and astraphobia (not for the main characters)

WC (Teaser): 4k

Release Date: June 27, 2021, 10 AM KST

It’s weird. It’s so weird.

It’s weird that you’ve been hearing this song replaying over and over again in your head when you’re sure you’ve never listened to it before. It’s also weird because sometimes the song sounds like the ones you often hear about on the radio—complete with instrumental accompaniment and everything—but most of the time, it just sounds like someone is humming to it. Sometimes quietly, but more often than not, vehemently like they’re having a concert in the shower, not caring if the neighbors might hear.

As someone who rarely listens to mainstream music, you don’t keep up with the trend these days but the tunes are catchy enough that you think, maybe, it’s one of those Justin Bieber’s songs people always talk about. You’re not fond of it, though, so even if you’ve heard it somewhere in a cafe or a mall, there’s very little chance you’ll be humming it in your head.

And yet, it keeps on playing.

It gets worse when it goes on for a whole day—a whole fucking day—that your brain feels like it’s seconds away from bursting into pieces. It doesn’t even sound like your voice. It seems like it belongs to a male, a bit light and a pitch higher than most. Though it sounds pleasant, the voice is unfamiliar to your ears and that’s what bothers you the most. 

Trying your best to escape, you plug in your AirPods to your earholes, choosing one of the most beloved tracks from your playlist—today, it’s Bloom by The Paper Kites—to help you relax as you lie down on your bed. But no matter how many times you turn up the volume—it’s practically turning you deaf, ironically—you can still hear that one goddamn song playing.

“Oh my God,” you groan, projecting a murderous glare at the ceiling of your room before you shriek all of your heart’s content to your pillow. “Make it stop!”

This has been going on ever since your twentieth birthday and it’s been three months since then—three months of suffering, to be exact. Fortunately for you, you haven’t been listening to the same song for those amount of time—God, you would’ve killed yourself if that was the case. The song changes without warning. It can change ten times within a day, or stay the same for ten days. You have never heard of these songs except for the popular ones, and even then, you only ever listened to snippets as they don’t suit your taste. 

So… It doesn’t make sense that you could recite the whole lyrics, does it? 

And yet, you can. 

Somehow, you already know every word, every tune, even every ad-lib in these songs and it both amazes and creeps you out. It’s as if somebody else is singing about it in their mind, and you, somehow, are mentally connected to them.

But that’s surely not the case, right?

With more days passing by, as your brain deteriorates little by little, you start to think that maybe that is the case.

Or maybe you’re just going crazy.

It’s nine in the morning and your eyes are bleary from how you involuntarily skipped sleep last night. With the loudest sigh and your half-charged MacBook sitting still in your backpack, you let your wobbly legs carry you to the nearest coffee shop. There’s a new Starbucks store opening just a couple of blocks away from your apartment and it’s perfect since you’re going to pass it every day on your way to college. 

You’re not excited though, not when you have Michael Jackson’s Man in The Mirror playing in your head for the, approximately, thirty-fifth time that day. And it’s only nine in the fucking morning.

When you enter the coffee shop, greeted by a cute Christmas tree and festive decorations spreading all over the place even when it’s still three weeks away from the holiday, you almost weep in joy when the song stops playing in your head. It does happen from time-to-time, sometimes it stops for a few hours before it starts again with the same song or an entirely different one. But in most cases, it only pauses for a few minutes which just doubles the torture whenever you’re trying to concentrate on your paperwork.

“Hi.” You display a timid smile at a female barista, slightly wincing when the song in your head starts blaring again, as expected. It’s still the same song this time—so that thirty-sixth by now, Jesus Christ—but instead of someone humming it, it’s the original version that plays. You’re having trouble focusing on her greeting when the sound of a synthesizer echoes through your ear, stridently so. “I would like a tall skinny latte with a double shot, please.”

“Would you like anything else to accompany your drink?”

Perhaps a gun to blow my head off? “No, thanks. That’d be all for me.”

“Is that for here or to go?”

You take a quick scan of your surroundings. You still have an hour before your first class starts and since the place isn’t that crowded, you figure you might as well just spend some time here. “For here.”

You tell her your name and slide down your card to complete the payment. “All right. We will call your name once your order is ready.”

“Fantastic. Thanks.” As the female barista takes an order from another customer, you drag yourself to an empty seat in the corner of the room, next to the glassy window where you can glance at passersby. You lay your head down on the table, cheek pressed against the wooden surface, lower lip jutting out in weariness. You’re drowsy and you want to think about the snow that’s probably gonna fall sometimes near Christmas’ Day and maybe the sight of a warm fireplace where you can cozy up with your imaginary boyfriend (also known as Jung Jaehyun—that one perfect boy who lives just across of your hallway), but no, unfortunately for you, you no longer have any space left in your brain since Michael Jackson is performing a damn concert and it doesn’t seem like he’s gonna stop anytime soon.

“I’m starting with the man in the mirror…” Great, now you’re singing it. “I’m asking him to change his ways…”

The music in your head abruptly stops again but before you can close your eyes to finally enjoy your silence, a familiar voice chimes in.

“It’s a great song, isn’t it?”

Shocked, you quickly lift your head to identify a male barista placing down a cup of your ordered latte on your table. You swear you recognize his voice but his face doesn’t ring a bell.

“Hi,” he greets, smiling a bit sheepishly. “I don’t usually bring orders directly to the table but I think I misheard your name so I couldn’t call you out from there.”

“That’s, umm, that’s okay…” You hide the bottom half of your face behind your scarf as you’re not used to talking to a stranger, especially one that looks overwhelmingly pretty. “What did you think my name was?”

“Umm…” He rubs the back of his nape awkwardly. “I don’t think you want to know. It was a bit… inappropriate.”

“R-right…” You glance at the cup. “It says ‘Michael.’”

He chuckles but with only a slight hint of amusement in it. “Yeah, sorry about that. I had to come up with something and it was the first thing that came to mind.”

“And it has…” Your eyes widen when you notice the words he’s written on the side of your cup. It’s not a greeting, it’s not a motivational sentence, it’s the fucking lyrics to Michael Jackson’s Man in The Mirror.

“Yeah, okay, so—” Noticing the appalled look on your face, he hurriedly tries to reason out. “I’ve had this song stuck in my head all day long—I just listened to it a minute ago while making your order—and the lyrics are just so inspirational so I decided to write that down. I hope that’s not too weird.” Then he laughs a little, a tad more genuinely this time. “But I heard you singing that song just now. What are the chances, right?”

You swallow hard. He’s been thinking about that song too? Listened to it a minute ago? What are the chances of this is happening? Is he the one whose voices I’ve been hearing in my head—

The male barista abruptly takes a step back, his tray nearly slipping out of his hold. He has a hand pressed against his ear, eyes blinking several times in disbelief. “Holy shit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You—” He splutters, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I can’t believe it’s real.”

“What?” The way he seems like he’s looking at a ghost sends goosebumps all over your skin. “What is it?”

“Think about something.” 

“Umm—” What is he talking about?

This time he gapes, his jaw dropping low. “Holy shit, I can really hear you. Think about something else—think about me.”

“Look, I don’t know you and you’re being weird.” The sudden change of conversation baffles you but when his words sink in, you can’t stop yourself from thinking about him as he orders. He’s cute, his entire features are cute—you’ve noticed that from the first second you laid your eyes on him, but what catches your eyes the most is his lips—the way they’re shaped so beautifully, like a cupid’s bow—

“You’re thinking about my lips? Seriously?” He asks, but might as well splash cold water to your face. “If you said something about my eyes, sure, I mean, they are attractive. One might even say that God Himself took the stars from the sky and put them in my eyes—but my lips? Huh, that’s new.”

You loudly gasp when you’re finally aware of the situation, hands flying to your face to cover your gaping mouth. “You can hear my thoughts!”

“And you can hear mine too!” He points out, and as startled as you are from the previous realization, you instantly frown upon his words. 

“I don’t think so,” you reply. “I can only hear—”

“Donghyuck-ah!” Another barista comes to interrupt from the other side of the room. “We didn’t pay you to flirt, come back here!”

“I wasn’t flirting!” He shouts back, tips of his ears reddening. When he turns to you again, he has a prominent scowl on his face which makes you squirm on your feet. “We need to talk about this. My break is in an hour, do you think you can wait?”

It sounds more like an order than a request. “B-but I have a class in an hour.”

“Skip it.”

It takes all the strength in your body to be brave enough to retort back with, “Why don’t you skip your work?”

“I’m already half-done with my work, I can’t bail out now.” He rolls his eyes. Suddenly, his courteousness just vanishes without a trace. “Look, I’ve been hearing your thoughts for months now and I have a lot to complain to you about.”

You grimace. “It’s not like I can control my thoughts—”

“I know, I’m not blaming you.” He picks up the tray, his gaze softening but only slightly. “I just want to complain. You’ve been driving me crazy these past few months.”

You glance away, pouting. Wow, he surely knows how to befriend a stranger.

“I can hear you, you know.” He sighs as if talking to you is exhausting, when it should be the other way around. “Look, I’m sure you’ve been going through the same thing. Don’t you want this to stop?”

You’re not wasting any second. “Yes, please.”

“Then wait for me. We’ll talk this through.” He pivots on his heels, his tray glued to his side. When you can finally breathe properly, exhausted from the social interaction as you sink back to your seat, the barista—Donghyuck—adds, “Oh, as you wait. Can you please stop thinking about my lips? Or just how cute I am in general? It’s sweet but I gotta concentrate so I won’t write another Michael on my next order.”

You slam your forehead down the table, face aflame. “I-I’ll try.”

“Thanks.”

***

“You just can’t stop thinking about my lips, can you?” Is the first thing Donghyuck states out as soon as he’s approached your table. He runs a hand through his brown hair, which looks out-worldly fluffy that you begin to wonder what kind of hair product he’s been using. “Or my hair.”

Mortified, you mumble out, “I’m sorry,” with half of your face covered by your hands. The more I try not to think about his lips, the more I do—shit, is he hearing this too—

“Yes,” Donghyuck says, but this time with an amused smile. “Man, I didn’t know my lips were that appealing to ladies. You’re gonna make me blush.”

Well, he’s making you blush for sure. “Would it be too much to ask for you to stop listening to my thoughts?”

“Believe me, woman, I’ve tried.” He groans, taking his apron off before he sits in front of you. He loosens up his collar, unbuttoning two buttons of his white shirt—which is two more than necessary to your liking—and you have to gaze away before another thought forms inside your head about a certain part of his body. 

“Sorry if I came on too strong before. I’m Lee Donghyuck,” he introduces formally, offering you his hand. You reply with your name but you’re reluctant to shake his hand since you’re sure you’re breaking into a cold sweat, and an overly sweaty palm doesn’t really scream attractive—

“It’s literally just a handshake,” he says, stifling down a laugh. “I’m not gonna start judging you about it. You’re cute, sweaty palms or not.”

You nearly choke. “If I can’t ask you to stop listening to my thoughts, can you please be quiet about them?”

“That’s also impossible since talking is an integral part of my charm.” He leans back to his chair. “I’m pretty good with my mouth.”

That was… a poor choice of words, you think, as you stare at his lips and can’t help but wonder what can that mouth do other than talking. You take a bite of the bagel you just ordered, desperately trying to avert your attention.

“It wasn’t a poor choice of words.” He winks. “I did mean that in every way possible.”

This time, you really are choking.

“Okay, so what’s happening to us?” Donghyuck questions, after you manage to shed a tear or two during your attempt in relieving your throat. “Why have I been hearing your thoughts? I don’t even know you.”

“Same here.” You’re still going through a hard time keeping eye contact with him, but with more seconds passing by—and him pronouncing every bit of your thoughts out in the open—the knots inside your chest begin to loosen. “Ever since I turned twenty, I’ve been hearing these songs playing in my head that I’d never even heard of.”

“Never heard of?” Donghyuck snorts. “What, you never listen to Billboard’s top forty?”

You weakly shrug. “I prefer indie music better. Or instrumentals.”

“I would say that you have a soul of an old lady but the way you’ve been thinking about my lips reminds me of my sister who’s going through puberty.”

“Okay, this isn’t fair.” You shake your head, ashamed and tired of being humiliated over something you can’t fix. “Why can you hear my thoughts but I can’t hear yours?”

“Believe me, you’re much better off this way.” His face contorts in pain which makes you feel somewhat sorry if he’s not constantly being an ass about it. Hearing your insult, he notes, “Also, I’d prefer to be called with terms of endearment in the future, if that’s okay with you. Something like Babe or Darling.” The way he raises his eyebrow is just strictly illegal. “And in return, I’ll call you Sweetheart.” But before you can say anything—or run toward a running bus to put an end to this endless humiliation—he questions, “Wait, when you hear the songs I’ve been thinking in my head, does it sound like the original version of the song, or like me singing it?”

Finally, a proper conversation. “If you’re listening to the actual music, I can hear the original song as if I’m hearing it through my headphones. But when you’re just thinking about it, well, I‘ve never heard you sing, but,” you decide to tease him back—which startles you from how blatant you’re being. “From how amateur and pitchy this voice sounded in my head, I think I’ve been hearing yours.”

“Cute.” He scrunches up his nose. “Okay, let’s try again. Can you hear what song running through my head now?”

You stiffen, sitting in silence. After a few seconds pass by with only you exchanging stern stares at each other, your eyes gleam with a spark of hope. “Wait, I can’t hear you. Does this mean it stops? Because we’ve met in person?”

“Sadly no, because I was just thinking about how silly you looked when you choked over your food earlier.” He chuckles to himself and sends you another wink when you degrade him in your head. “Okay, let’s try again.”

“For real this time?”

“For real this time, Sweetheart.” He closes his eyes, holding back a smile when he catches how you flinch a little at his pet name for you. This time, you really do hear him humming inside your mind. “Don’t tell me by words,” he immediately adds, “Just think about them.”

Heaving a sigh, you close your eyes too. I’ve heard this song somewhere.

“If you’ve never heard about this song, I will literally cry and apologize to the world on your behalf.”

Be quiet, please, I’m trying to concentrate.

“Worried that you’d be thinking about my lips again?”

You almost fall from your seat. Almost. Okay, you’re singing to… You knit your eyebrows together as you provide your best effort to remember the tunes. You’re singing to Super Mario Bros theme song?

“Correct.” He taps his fingers to the table, simpering. “This is actually pretty cool. We can be, like, partners in crime or something.”

You shudder. “Please don’t tell me you’re an actual criminal.”

“If looking this handsome is a crime then I am, yes. Guilty as charged.” He makes a kissy face when you think about throwing the rest of your bagel to his head. “You look like someone who writes fan-fiction about their idols having sappy first kisses in your spare time but you’re actually pretty wild in your head, aren’t you?” He loves seeing your reactions, you know that, so you give your all in trying to act nonchalant. “Now, let’s try again. Did you bring your headphones with you?”

You check your coat’s pocket. “I got my AirPods.”

“Perfect. Put them on and play something from your phone.” As someone who’s pretty carefree, he can get serious at times. “Play as loud as you can until you feel like you’re going deaf.”

“I’ve tried that many times.” You nearly wail at the memory. “But it’s hard to drown your voice since it comes from inside my head.”

“Yeah, I know that. I’ve been hearing your thoughts too, remember? Don’t you think I would at least try something like that?” You narrow your eyes menacingly at him but he simply waves you off. “Anyway, that’s not what I’m trying to do. Put them on and you’ll see.”

He’s ordering you around. He just met you and he’s ordering you around. Socializing with people in general already zaps your energy pretty quickly, so socializing with a brat—

“I’ll grow on you, don’t worry.” He smirks and you take a mental note to really learn how to control your thoughts this time.

You follow his lead, as requested, connecting your AirPods to your phone and play something relaxing—because God knows how desperately you need it—as loudly as you can bear. Okay, go try… whatever it is that you want to try.

He smiles and shifts slightly on his seat, facing the window. His eyes glimmer under the light when he parts his lips, mouthing some words—no, singing something that you can’t hear.

Wait. I can’t hear?

Donghyuck glances at you, a grin breaking further on his lips upon hearing your thought. He gestures to you to take your AirPods away and you nod. Vacation Manor’s You promptly fades as his voice enters, and it’s weird because you’ve heard him sing in your head so many times yet it doesn’t do justice to how beautiful he sounds in real life.

It’s almost angelic, the sound he makes, which is kind of ironic for a little devil that he is. His honeyed voice is soothing, almost like the patter of rain on your window at dawn, lulling you back to sleep. You’re no expert in music but to you, he sounds impeccable that you run out of words to describe how pleasant his voice is to your ears. It’s so distinct, soulful—

Donghyuck giggles. “Thanks.”

—and annoying. “Okay, so what happened?” You try to divert the topic. “I can’t hear you when you’re singing out loud, but I can hear it when you’re thinking about a song?”

“I guess so.” He furrows his eyebrows, deep within his thoughts. “I figured it out when I couldn’t hear your thoughts whenever you spoke out loud. I think we can work from this?”

“So instead of thinking about what I have to say, I should focus more on saying what I want to say?” You shake in horror. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“What, you don’t like talking?”

“I’m…” You swallow your breath. “I’m not really good at that.”

“You’re talking to me just fine now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, because you make it so easy.”

“Aaw,” he purrs, a lopsided smile painting his face. “Thanks, Sweetheart.”

“No.” You hold up a hand. “I mean, since you can hear my thoughts, I have no other choice but to speak. Also, you seem like you’re the type who just says whatever that comes to mind without worrying too much about my feelings—”

“Hey, now you’re just making me sound rude—”

“You are rude,” You emphasize. “But it works well with me because then I don’t have to hold myself back and pretend to be somebody else.”

“Why do you have to pretend?” He frowns. “Because you’re afraid people are gonna hate you? Judge you on your words?”

“It’s…” You look away, nibbling on your bottom lip. “I just… I’m trying to be a good person so people will like me—”

“I like you,” he says casually as if he was talking about having a cute Pomeranian as a pet, and there you are, almost fainting in your seat. “I mean, in the last forty minutes I’ve known you, I think you’re great the way you are. You don’t have to be good, you just have to be you.” He shifts closer, crossing his arms on the table, and lays his chin on them, gazing up at you with a soft smile that doesn’t match well with his previous attitude. “Don’t you think it’s great if people accept you the way you are?”

You hurriedly take a sip of your coffee, pretending to swallow even if it’s already empty. “You’re… not so bad yourself.”

“What was that?”

“Okay, well I think I should go.” There’s no way you’re gonna repeat that. Donghyuck titters, taking a hold of your wrist when you’re about to stand up from your seat.

“We still have loads to talk about.” You observe the way his fingers linger around your arm, his sun-kissed skin feels silky smooth against your own. “Why don’t we have lunch together? My treat?”

“D-don’t you have work to do?”

“I’ll make an excuse.” 

A barista with the word Jeno written on his name tag walks by and slaps Donghyuck on the back of his head as if it’s something he’s done on a daily basis—probably is. “You’re not going anywhere, asswipe, get back to work.”

When the brunette boy turns to you, he winces. “Or maybe you can give me your number so we can meet up later?”

***

A/N: I’m both nervous and excited for this as this is my first collaboration. Thank you so much, Denise, for having me on this wonderful collab!

[harryhighkey]

the 1

hi!

so because i haven’t been able to listen to anything but folklore ever since it came out here’s a one shot inspired by one of the songs, the 1.

i’m really proud of how this turned out and i’m thinking of maybe doing more one shots inspired by songs from that album!

hope u like it and happy reading ♡

______________________

You were doing good.

So good in fact, that when someone asked you how you were, it wasn’t a mundane, somewhat conditioned response of ‘good’ - even if you weren’t. It was a genuine, wholehearted ‘I’m so good’ kind of response you’d hear in some finding the light moment by a protagonist in a movie. You deserved it too, you had been actively trying to find this frame of mind and finally here you were.

You first noticed the change in yourself when you started some new habits in your life. The moment came when you were caught in a drunk-minded deep conversation with one of your best friends.

-

“Y’know what I need?”

“What?”

“Get on some new shit.”

“You wan’ drugs right now?”

“Nah, nah, nah, not like that. I mean like, in life in general, y’know?”

“Yeah, dude. Same, like... let’s day drink on weekdays too.”

-

You laughed at her reply, but you remember not saying no. That was something else you were trying to do. Saying yes instead of no.

It’s not that you were necessarily a no person. In fact, you liked to think you were more of a yes person. You were always the friend who was up for anything once upon a time. No matter if it was going to sushi train, spending an afternoon following a Bob Ross tutorial, going axe-throwing, having a Sunday sesh of drinking bottomless margaritas or simply laying in bed and bitching about the people you didn’t like from high school and how boring their lives seemed compared to yours. You were always very friend orientated and you had amazing friends who you always had the most fun with and when that part of your life halted, it effected you more then you realised.

It had stopped by your own choice. You happened to fall in love with one of the most known and beloved male singers of this generation. Harry Styles. At first you kept living normally, but it was only a matter of time before you would get recognised more and more due to being his girlfriend. You didn’t sign up for being a celebrity, it was never your plan and you didn’t consider yourself to be one. But you couldn’t deny that you were known in the Harry Styles fandom for sure. Because of this, you started saying no to a lot more things. It was a sacrifice, but one you were willing to make at the time for the boy who you were so sure was the one.

It was impossible to ignore his status when you two were together and even now when you were not. There was a day when it had been two months and six days since you broke up where you were driving home from work and you were thinking of him. On your lunch break, your co worker who was named Henry was drinking from a mug with a ‘H’ on it. It was the same mug you had bought for Harry when you two were together. And on your way home there was a split second where you thought you saw him at the bus stop. You didn’t though. Of course not, it was just your mind playing a sick trick after you’d been thinking of him so much. Someone of Harry’s fame wouldn’t be able to catch a public bus, especially at peak hour without causing a ruckus. It was easy to miss the good parts and that moment was a slap in the face of reality at how the two of you struggling to be a ‘normal’ couple was a big reason why you broke up.

Two days after that, you spent a week where you swore to hit the ground running each night that week to feel better. The first night was out to dinner, the second was a board game night, the third was visiting your parents, the fourth was an escape room, the fifth was a rooftop bar, and finally came Sunday where you hit the matinee.

That week was exactly what you needed. It was busy as hell, but you wanted it to be. By the end of the week you were exhausted, but in the best possible way. Almost in a way of when you exercise and the release of good endorphins follow. You really felt like the main character in your life again, and when you were reminiscing back on the packed week, it was like a montage in a movie and your favourite songs would’ve been playing as the soundtrack. But then you had a wave of him. One single moment alone, and of course he’d crept into your mind. A simple memory of when you couldn’t decide what movie to watch. You had very different tastes when it came to watching something and Harry in an effort to soothe this over before it became frustrating asked in a dramatised voice,

“Don’t you know that the greatest films of all time were never made?”

At the time you had rolled your eyes and laughed at him. But maybe he was right after all. You missed him again in that moment, you never thought you would have to miss him in that way. When you were together and you missed him because he was away for a work commitment, you could call him up. Now you couldn’t. The the last phone you’d had with him flew to the front of your mind and sadly it was a bitter memory.

-

“Hi, baby.”

“Hey, H.”

“You okay?”

You sighed.

“That’s a no.”

“Mhm.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Well I’m home again.”

“Go out then, (Y/N). You don’t need to have fomo.” He tried to lighten the mood by saying it like that, you were an extreme fomo sufferer and it was a personal joke within your life and at first he had found it cute and joined in. But it wasn’t simply fomo anymore. You were beginning to become depressed with the downfall of your social life that was once, such a defining aspect of who you are, and one of the reasons you had caught Harry’s attnetion in the first place, he loved your extroverted attitude.

“If I go, I’m gonna’ feel like groups of girls are looking at me and talking about me.”

“I know how that feels.”

“Harry, it’s not the same for me.”

“I know.”

You gave him silence, some sort of this conversation had became pretty repetitive for you two towards the end of your relationship.

“I am sorry you’re feeling like this (Y/N), but I’m not sorry for having my life.” He was getting frustrated, you could hear it in his voice. You were too, but you understood his frustration now, you didn’t then.

“Well, how I was to know that dating you meant this? You never know... never know that dating someone is going to fuck your life up.”

“I fucked your life up?”

“Kinda, yeah.”

-

He hung up then. It wasn’t pretty due to things only getting rockier. You broke up the day after that call. And fuck, were you devastated. You didn’t have your old life because going out meant feeling like people were looking at you for being Harry Styles’ girlfriend and that would hurt too much knowing you weren’t. Another thing that kept you inside for the most part, was the knowledge that it would only be a matter of time before rumours spread on social media that the two of you had split. And you didn’t even want to think about how it would make you feel to hear people you didn’t know at all whisper about you being his ex. So there you were, without your old life and also without Harry and the new life you had with him.

It fucking sucked.

You waited for him to call, or to show up at your door to display some proclamation of love to get back together. In the first two months you would’ve said yes of course. But unfortunately it happened five months and twenty-eight days after the break up.

You were having a really good night. Harry wasn’t.

You and your sister were at the movies and you had to go to the toilet after ordering the biggest slurpee size and not being able to make it through the movie without needing a pee break. Just after you’d washed your hands your phone rang and you answered without looking at who it was, assuming it would be your sister asking to get some more m&m’s.

-

“Yeah?”

“Ah..hi. Bad time?” You recognised his voice and swore you felt your heart lurch into your throat. “(Y/N)?” You hadn’t answered him and you had answered the call so quick, he was caught off guard at your abrupt answering of the phone and now complete silence.

“No.. I, I didn’t look who was calling. I thought it was (Y/S/N).”

“Oh, you out?”

“Just to the movies.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“Bet you look so pretty, baby.” He was drunk. His compliment did cause that warmth to appear in your heart, but you fought against it.

“Why are you calling, Harry?”

“Miss you...miss you so much.” Tears welled in your eyes, this was all you had wanted months ago. Just not now, not after you’d work so hard to get your life back on track to how you liked it. “Want you back, (Y/N).”

“Stop.”

“No.”

“It’s too late.”

“Why?”

“You had so much time to do this, it isn’t fair you’re doing it now. If you wanted me, you really should’ve showed.”

“I’m-”

-

You hung up on him and then cried.

You never made it back to into the theatre, instead, your sister came to you in the bathroom, making a joke about if you had gotten diarrhoea. She quickly stopped when she saw your makeup ruined and teary eyes. Immediately becoming concerned and when you explained what had happened, she simply told you,

“If you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow.” And that was all you really needed to hear.

And so bleed you did, figuratively. You thought you had gotten past the crying stage but that call brought on a second wave. Except this time, you were determined to keep up with your found again lifestyle. More often then not you saved the crying for when you were alone. But sometimes, something reminded you of him and you couldn’t help but to become a little teary eyed in public.

One day though, a month and eleven days after that call, the tears weren’t out of complete sadness. You were at your nieces birthday party and the current activity for the children was making balloon figures with those long, skinny balloons. Your attention was on one kid who was seeming to struggle a little and you could quickly see that her balloon was shaping into something not so appropriate for a kids party. It made you laugh and before you gave it a second thought, you snapped a photo and sent it to Harry, due to it reminding you of a memory with him.

-

“Baby, I don’t think giraffes are meant to look like that.” Harry was laughing at you, the two of you had, had some drinks and after finding a random packet of those bendable balloons in your backpack, you decided on seeing who could make the best animals.

“I know! I can’t figure out how to do it any differently.” Your tone was frustrated. That was your third attempt and it was turning out exactly how the first two had. In the shape of a penis.

“That dirty mind of yours.” He continued to tease you so you hit him with your penis shaped balloon and he quickly picked up the other two to hit you back with them. It wasn’t long until the swats of balloons became grabby hands and you two had some of the best sex you’d ever had.

-

It was such a fun moment and your eyes did well up slightly, but it was more of a nostalgic feeling. He replied to the photo quickly.

Harry: I want to support you in whatever you do but I can’t support you teaching the only balloon shape you know how to do, to kids.

His reply was funny and you laughed and gave a quick wipe under your eyes before a tear could roll down but your sister caught the movement and gave you a questioning look so you told her,

“It’s alright now.” And she knew exactly what you meant.

You didn’t message him back. That day. And you had to really fight with yourself not to but for the next two nights he was in all of your dreams so that third morning when you woke up and was still half asleep, you messaged him.

(Y/N): I had this dream you were doing cool shit.

Harry: You did? What was I doing?

(Y/N): A bunch of things, it was like I was watching a movie of you.

Harry: How so?

(Y/N): Idk, having all these adventures on your own.

Harry: Anything in particular that stands out?

(Y/N): You met a woman on the internet and took her home.

Harry: It wasn’t you?

(Y/N): No.

Harry: Interesting.

You didn’t reply after that. You thought it would be another light hearted text conversation but something felt weird about it. Yes, you were obviously broken up but you swore there was a shift of some kind.

You tried your best to forget about, you really fucking tried but a few more weeks passed and on a Saturday at 1:33am you were drunk calling him.

“’lo?” It was his ‘I just woke up voice’. And your heart fluttered, he always was a ‘Do Not Disturb’ person when he slept, so this meant your contact was still selected as a favourite.

“Hi.”

“(Y/N)? What time is it?”

“1:33am.”

“You okay?”

“I don’ know.”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“My life feels out of place...and I’ve been trying real fucking hard to get it back on track.”

“I’m sure if you keep trying-”

“I hate tha’ you’re missing from my life.” You cut him off.

“(Y/N), I think you need to get some sleep.” He could tell you were drunk.

“I know we never painted by the numbers, but like, we were making it count... Right?”

“Right.”

“But it doesn’t mean anything anymore... the greatest loves of all time are over now.” You were so drunk, and speaking a little dramatically but Harry knew you were in a state, so he was being a little patient with you. “Do you miss me, Harry?”

“I do.”

“I miss you, too.”

“But think of all the things you missed when we were together. I don’t want you to stop living your life that you love so much.”

“Yeah, guess so.”

“This is for the best.”

“Do you actually think that?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Do you want to come stay tonight? I miss you a lot in the mornings.” You were getting more tired and Harry could hear it in your voice.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I just can’t, (Y/N).”

“Fine, it’ll just be another day waking up alone.”

“You’re not alone, you’ve got so many people in your life.”

“But not you, anymore.”

“Well, you still do, just not in the same way.”

“But, we were something, don’t you think so?”

“I do think so.... Are you okay, (Y/N)?” Harry asked a second time, he still cared for you so much.

“I think so, I just, can’t stop thinking about what if we had been together in another time... Like, imagine us in the roaring twenties. We’d be so vibrant and throwing parties together... Wishful, too. Tossing pennies in the pool.”

“What would you wish for?” He knew it was wrong to ask this while you were intoxicated but your emotion was flowing onto him even through the phone and he couldn’t help himself but to induldge in your scenario.

“Harry, if my wishes came true, it would’ve been you and me always.” You so unashamedly admitted, and Harry felt guilty then. He was pretty certain you’d wake up in the morning and regret this.

“I think I should go, (Y/N). Let you get some sleep, okay?”

“Yeah, night.” You were exhausted.

“Goodnight.”

-

The next day your best friend called and once you had told her of your late drunken call to Harry she immediately asked you,

“Now why the fuck would you do that?”

“In my defence... well I have none.”

“Exactly, and my question still stands, why the fuck would you do that?”

“You know me, just can never leave things well enough alone.”

After that call and promising your best friend that you wouldn’t go drunk dialling ex boyfriends again, you really wanted to stick to it. And so you did.

For seven months, there was no contact. And Harry had been laying pretty low so he wasn’t really being talked about and plastered in places so you couldn’t not see his face or hear his name or his songs.

Until news broke of him and his new girlfriend.

It was everywhere and you hated it. You hadn’t even thought of dating someone new. A couple months ago, you and your friend had set up a tinder profile for you but you hadn’t used it at all. You didn’t end things with Harry because you didn’t love him, because you did. So maybe part of you thought that you would get back together eventually, and maybe part of you thought he felt the same.

Apparently not.

The following weekend, you only had a couple drinks when you went out for a friends birthday. Truth being told, ever since seeing photos of Harry simply holding hands with another girl who wasn’t you, you had a pit in your stomach. You didn’t stay out for long, either. It was probably just you being a little anxious but you couldn’t shake the feeling that people were staring at you, and it had been a while since you felt like that and it was not a welcomed feeling.

Once you were home, you persisted and resisted the temptation to call or message Harry, simply to ask him if one thing had been different, would everything be different today? But you did resist and that was something you could celebrate.

-

Eventually those feelings that came from seeing Harry with his new girlfriend, faded. Partly because you’d done everything in your power to block hearing any news about him, but it was what you needed for your own peace of mind.

But today, you were going to see him, you knew that. And you knew there was a possibility of his new girlfriend also being there. It was a mutual friends engagement party, and maybe you had tried extra hard to look as good as you possibly could due to this knowledge.

You’d brought your best friend as a plus one and she spotted him before you did.

“Don’t turn around, but he’s coming in now.”

“Is she with him?”

“Yeah.” You took in a deep breath at your best friends confirmation of what you’d been worrying over. “He’s just spotted you.”

“Fuck... Does he look like he’s gonna come over?”

“Maybe, he’s talking at the moment.”

Harry was only a 180 twist away from seeing him after no contact for so long, but anxiety overtook any feeling of excitement or temptation. “Let’s move, I’m not ready.”

“We’ll go get a drink.”

The two of you walked off to the bar area and you released a sigh of relief which was followed by a few wet pussy shots to calm your nerves.

As the night continued on, you started to feel more at ease, which was probably from the alcohol but you didn’t care what it came from, as long as you felt better. As far as coming into contact with Harry, you hadn’t yet. You’d spotted the back of him a number of times, but he was always involved in a conversation with someone else.

It was when the engaged couple and their families announced speeches, you’d ended up closer to him then you would have liked. You sat down beside your best friend, only to look slightly to your left and see Harry sitting just to the side of you and a tiny bit forward.

You wished you could’ve said you found this fine and you enjoyed the speeches given by the couple and their family members but you kept allowing your eyes to drift over to him. It was so easy to considering he would have to look over his shoulder to catch you looking. He seemed happy with the rosé flowing with his chosen family.

“Are you okay?” Your best friend whispered to you and you looked back to her with a soft, sad smile.

“Yeah... just would’ve been sweet if it could’ve been me.”

You were so grateful she was there with you and when the final speech was completed with a cheers, the both of you downed your own drinks and then laughed at each other. The laugh of yours that was familiar to someone else in the room and when you felt your vision moving to the left again, you were greeted with Harry’s eyes locking with your own. You weren’t even sure how, but your heart stilled and you watched as he turned his head back to the woman stood beside him to tell her something. She gave him a smile and nodded and you quickly looked at her as she glanced to you, you barely mirrored the smile she offered you because then Harry was making his way towards you.

“Hello, ladies.” He greeted the two of you. Moving to hug your best friend first because you had subconsciously taken a step back when he became too close.

“Hey, Harry.” She greeted him back and you took the brief moment they embraced to glance down and try to quickly regain your composure as best as you could.

It was only a quick timeframe between him hugging your best friend hello to then solely directing his attention to you but at the same time, it seemed like time was in slow motion.

“(Y/N), hi.” He moved to you so easily, and you to him. You were worried about it being awkward but your bodies knew exactly what they were doing when it came to each other. Your arms didn’t bump into each other, rather they so elegantly glided across one another until yours were up and around his shoulders and his were clasped so snugly around your waist.

Fuck, it felt good. It had been so long since you’d seen him, let alone felt him. You were so happy it was a genuine hug, being pressed against him and being held so tight felt so right. “Hi.” You finally returned his greeting, quietly and he pulled you in closer then.

“I’m just gonna head to the bathroom, guys.” Your best friend spoke up and part of you was glad because you weren’t sure you could ever let go of Harry again after being apart for so long. Another part of you wasn’t because it did cause the two of you to break apart and look towards her. You both shared a look, an unspoken ‘are you going to be okay?’ before she walked away after an unspoken confirmation.

When you looked back to Harry, you realised your hand was still gently holding onto this arm and when you noticed he had completely dropped his touch from you, you did the same. “Sorry.” You apologised and held your hands in front of you, but he smiled so warmly at you.

“Don’t be, it’s all good.” He always was so good at making you feel okay.

It was beginning to grow louder where you were with the completion of speeches and the party going back into full swing, so at the same time you both started to suggest finding a different spot.

“Should we-” You both stopped to allow the other to continue but with the double stop you both laughed.

“Let’s go.” Harry continued and so you walked with him in search of a more peaceful spot. After a few steps, you started to grab his hand without even realising why it would be a little problematic to do that right now. “(Y/N)...” He garnered your attention by calling your name and before you could finish filling the gaps between your fingers with his own, he pulled his hand away. His movements weren’t quick or aggressive and he didn’t speak your name with any kind of warning, it was more of a sad tone.

“Sorry.” A second apology was given.

“It’s okay.” He accepted, he wasn’t trying to make you feel uncomfortable.

Eventually, you two found an empty side balcony with a little corner seat to occupy and when you sat down, your knees touched but neither of you made any effort to move to stop the accidental physical connection.

“You look beautiful.” He complimented you so doubtlessly and as your eyes found his again, you swore the stars you saw in them made their way right to your heart to pierce through it. At a different time, you would have slid right beside him and held his face in your hands and kissed him so tenderly. His hands would have effortlessly found their place on your hips and if you were both feeling daring enough, you would have fucked hard and fast right there on that balcony. But he wasn’t yours anymore. Those stars weren’t for you anymore, as much as you wanted them to be. So you couldn’t allow yourself to react how you wanted to.

“Don’t do that, Harry.”

“What?”

“Tell me that and look at me like that. It’s not fair.”

“(Y/N),” He looked away then with a sigh, but you kept your eyes trained on his side profile. “You wanted this.”

“Okay, no.” Immediately, you argued against his words. “This,” He looked back to you then as you waved your hand between you two, “is not what I wanted.”

“Enlighten me, then.” His tone changed, it was slightly angered now.

“Really? Do you really want to dig up that grave another time.”

“I mean, as far I can remember you broke up with me.”

“But not because I didn’t love you or want you or anything like that, though.” You turned more towards him and the contact of your leg against his became more prominent.

“I know... but I’m with someone else now.”

Fuck, that hurt.

“I know.” Your voice cracked and instantly you snapped your head to the side in an effort to hide your teary eyes but he had already spotted them welling up.

“(Y/N),” He placed his hand on your knee and without looking at him you put your hand over his, at first you told yourself you were going to push his hand away, but instead you let your hand simply sit atop his. “Please don’t cry.”

“I’m trying not to.” And you were. Harry could see that and he waited as you took in a few very shaky breaths. It took everything in him to not gather you in his arms and cradle you against him, but he knew that wouldn’t be the right thing to do right now. But with each breath they became more evened out.

After a couple of minutes, you looked back to him while also lifting your hand from his and pushing his hand from your leg. He got the message and removed his grip.

“I swear I’ve actually been really good.” You spoke up and Harry smiled.

“I don’t doubt that.”

As you continued on, you looked away from him. Mindlessly glancing at whatever you could as you tried to explain. “No, really...like, I miss you, yeah, but, I really have been doing good.”

“I believe you.”

“Honestly, I swear I don’t sit around crying all the time.”

“(Y/N),” Instantly you looked back at him. “I know, you don’t have to explain yourself.”

You laughed and so did he.

“It would’ve been fun... wouldn’t it?”

“What?”

“If you would’ve been the one.”

[thevioletjones]

Congrats on the kudos, u deserve it! I did not undestand if I'm supposed to choose one of the lines for the prompt or if I have to combine two or more lines lol. But if it is to choose only one: number 5. If more than one: 5 and 45. *---*

Thank you! I used both. Great inspiration, actually. It spun out of control! 😀

Prompt 2: “How much of that did you hear?” + “Why are you helping me?”

Interloper

“Jesus, Iggy, I’m gonna fuckin’ murder you myself one of these days,” Mickey threatened in exasperation.

They were both leaning over, hands on knees, gasping for air, just having run full-speed for at least twelve blocks. The pillars beneath the L tracks were now providing the mild seclusion they needed to wait out a cursory police search of the area.

“Ain’t my fault!” Iggy exclaimed defensively.

Mickey’s face scrunched up to a degree that only his dumbest family members could make it reach. “Yes it fuckin’ was! Who else’s fault would it be?”

He’d always kind of wondered how he was the only one in his crap-ass family to be gifted with at least half a brain. Well, him and his younger sister, Mandy. She was alright. Skanky and crazy, but not a total idiot. He couldn’t say the same for his brothers, male cousins, father, uncle, etcetera. Mickey couldn’t even get his begrudgingly favorite brother to follow a simple goddamn plan that would’ve kept them out of trouble when they were out committing crimes. He was just gonna have to start doing everything himself. Safety in numbers didn’t apply when the other member of your team seemed to have been lobotomized when no one was paying attention. It was probably all the meth. Mickey was smart enough to stay away from that particular bullshit. Didn’t want to become a scabby, denture-wearing, toothpick skinny, low-life with no mind left to lose. He was content to stick to coke and weed like a normal person.

“That old bitch came outta nowhere! Self-defense!”

“It ain’t self-defense if you’re robbin’ the joint, numbnuts! We’re lucky you fuckin’ missed!”

If he had it his way, Mickey wouldn’t be doing these petty robberies anymore. He much preferred bigger jobs, like gun and drug running. But times were tough, and he had to do what he had to do. He’d even considered getting a legit job for once in his life, but the skills he possessed weren’t exactly easily adaptable to the straight and narrow path. Being a criminal was how he was raised, and all he knew. It brought heat, but it was still a comfortable fit. Living without the constant presence of major risk would probably feel so foreign as to drive him crazier than a meth addiction in the long run.

The job Mickey’d lined up involved hitting up a few different borderline upmarket stores that’d opened up in their neck of the woods since the gentrifiers had set upon The Yards, then selling the goods to a guy he knew in the online black market trade. Not as lucrative as heavy metal and funny powder, but a decent payday nonetheless. Except fuckface over here who had to ruin everything by getting trigger-happy on Main while they were attempting to heist merchandise from location number two of three. If the pigs nabbed either one of them, they’d be going down for at least five to ten. Years. Mickey was done donating years to the prison industrial complex. The most he could afford was months at best.

“When’d you turn into such a giant asshole?” asked Iggy. “Oh, nevermind, probly when you started gettin’ it railed on the reg.”

A giant smile stretched across his perpetually dirty face, causing Mickey’s eyebrows to lift dangerously high on his forehead. Occasionally, his dumber-than-rocks older brother managed to think up some admittedly clever asides. Mickey didn’t know whether to punch him or give him daps.

Before he could decide, however, he heard a distinct little snicker from the other side of the large concrete column they were leaning on, raising his hackles to invisibly join his eyebrows in their heightened incredulity.

Mickey hastily rounded the pillar and grabbed the giggler by the shirt collar, hauling him to their side and pinning him next to Iggy with his forearm. He looked into the guy’s eyes, and finally registered who it was. He kinda sorta knew him from around town. Used to hang out with his sister back in high school. He was a lot scrawnier then. This version of the dude could probably hold his own with Mickey in a fight. He’d built some definite muscle.

“How much of that did you hear, asshole?” Mickey demanded, seeing Iggy flash the gun in his waistband in his periphery.

This idiot didn’t look as rattled as he should be, though. He just shrugged his shoulders.

“Considering I was here first, I guess… all of it?”

He was wearing an annoying little smirk, his green-blue eyes shining bright, and his red hair distracting Mickey as much as the light dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He had a stupidly ultra-defined chin, and Mickey immediately hated it. His chin hadn’t looked like that when he was a 15-year-old pipsqueak.

“Wipe that smile off your face, bitch,” ordered Mickey, pressing his arm harder against the guy’s pale throat. “You think this is fuckin’ funny? You know who we are?”

The guy shrugged again, like this was all a casual conversation on the corner. “Mickey.” He glanced at his dumb, blonde, curlicue brother. “And Iggy, right? I used to hang out with Mandy all the time. Have a good memory.”

“Yeah? Well I remember your goofy ass too, Gallagher. I know where you live and I know who your family is, so if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your big mouth shut or I’ll pick ‘em off one by one and save you for last. Got it?”

The dude snorted, and Mickey wondered if he was some kind of crazy tweaker with no sense of propriety or self-preservation.

“You outta your goddamn mind or somethin’?” Mickey added. “I ain’t jokin’.”

“Look, Gallaghers don’t snitch, alright?” He held his hands up placatingly. “I promise not to say shit to anyone. It’s none of my business, and I really don’t care. That good enough for you?”

Mickey loosened his hold, but sized him up all the while. “Maybe. But it’s possible you need a little lesson to remember it good. Wouldn't want you to forget about the consequences of you breakin’ your word.”

The dude winced and shoved Mickey off. “I don’t need a fucking beatdown, Mickey. I get it.”

“Ohhhh,” Mickey singsonged derisively, meeting Iggy’s gaze. “He gets it.” He thumbed his eyebrow. “Guess I’m just s’posed to believe you, huh?”

“That would be ideal, yeah.”

Mickey had to give it to him; he almost cracked a smile. The kid had balls. Most people around their neighborhood cowered before a Milkovich like spring lambs. Still, he lived by a code, and letting some rando walk away unscathed when he had dirt on him just didn’t fit the rules.

He cocked his fist back to knock it into tall, pale, and red’s pearly white teeth, just as the stunted siren of a cop car rang out very close by. Their collective heads all snapped toward the sound, and after sharing a meaningful look between brothers, Iggy took off running once again, without a word.

Normally, Mickey would’ve followed hot on his heels, but some unknown force was keeping his useless feet stuck to the dirty ground, eyes watching as Gingerballs glanced around the column at the flashing lights, taking a very long look that wasn’t suspicious at all.

Before he could react outwardly, Mickey was pulled against a hard body, Gallagher’s warm breath sending a shiver down his spine as he whispered, “Be cool. I got you.”

Suddenly, big hands were caressing Mickey’s back, and despite a part of him not minding in the least, the rest of him stiffened considerably.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he rasped out, hearing the telltale slam of a car door, and attempting to pull away. But a strong grip held him close, spinning him around so that he was the one up against the concrete now.

“Saving your thug ass. I know this guy, okay? Just chill and follow my lead.”

Okay, what the hell was this surreal turn of events? Gallagher was bold as shit, cradling Mickey all gay like. Sure, Iggy had made a fag joke earlier, kicking off this whole… whatever it was, but still. This guy had no way of knowing it was based in reality. Did he?

And had Gallagher really been gay this whole time? How had Mickey never sniffed this scorching information out?

“What’s going on here, boys?”

The copper rounded the corner, genuinely swinging his nightstick like a cartoon character, and Mickey had to suppress a deep roll of his eyes.

“Milkovich?” Mr. CPD continued, extreme disbelief coloring his voice.

Mickey was abruptly reminded that he was currently stuck between a rock and a hard body, and nothing about their entanglement screamed anything other than gay, gay, super-fucking-gay. Not that Mickey hadn’t come to accept who he was and what he liked, but he didn’t go around spreading the truth all over town either. This could seriously damage his carefully crafted reputation.

“Tony!” Ian interjected, sparing him from having to invent some lame excuse, and the cop’s eyes snapped to him instead.

“Ian?” His tone was still dripping with astonishment.

“Yeah! What's up? How you been?”

Mickey shot him an ‘are you goddamn serious right now?’ look, and Ian just squeezed his hip in tacit reply.

“Uhhh… gooood? Care to explain whatever…” he waved his stick between them, “this is?”

Ian laughed and he figured the dude truly was a nutcase. Mickey was going to jail for sure.

“Um, well,” answered Ian, suddenly playing it very meek and demure, “Mickey and I were just… you know…”

“You and… Mickey?”

“Not fucking or anything! Just... hanging out?”

“Hanging out.”

“Yeah, you know how it is. I’m tryin’ to convince Mick here to come home with me, but he’s being squirrelly.” He shook his head and shrugged. “South Side guys.”

“What the fuck?” Mickey whispered harshly, completely taken aback.

Ian just squeezed him tightly again, which was not helping his whole brain scramble situation.

“Huh,” said Tony, a tone of acceptance seeping in. “Mickey Milkovich, eh? Wow.”

“Come on, Tony. I don’t have to tell you this is all a big secret, do I?” replied Ian.

“And blondie who ran away like there was a damn fire? Did he flee a threesome?”

Mickey frowned and fake-wretched, finally speaking up. “Fuck no, man. That was my dumbass brother. He don’t like cops.”

“Uh huh. And you and your brother didn’t happen to be getting into trouble about 15 minutes ago, did you?”

“No sir,” Mickey said with a mock salute.

Ian kicked at his foot in warning.

“He’s been with me since like 3 o’clock, Tone. Scout’s honor.”

Officer Tony eyed them both with a look of skepticism, but didn’t contradict Ian’s word. The CB sounded from the open window of the black and white, with some cop-speak crackling over the airwaves.

“Stay put,” said Tony, eyes lingering longer on Mickey’s than Ian’s. “Both of you.”

He retreated to answer the radio call, and Mickey let out a deep whoosh of air.

“Goddamn, Gallagher. You’re spinnin’ quite a yarn here.”

“Yep,” Ian agreed. “A big gay yarn.”

“How the fuck did you know—”

“That you’re gay? Well, I heard Iggy make that joke, obviously. Pretty specific bottom joke to make if you weren’t actually into it. Plus, I always had my suspicions.”

Mickey scoffed. “Yeah fuckin’ right!”

“I did!”

“Whatever. Why are you helping me?”

“Out of the kindness of my heart?”

“Try again.”

“I don’t know. Why not? Makes us even or something. Now you know I won’t rat you out. About any of it. I wouldn’t out someone like that, and I don’t give a shit about the illegal crap you’re wrapped up in. Tony Markovich is like turbo gay too. Used to bang my sister, I think, but he came out a couple years ago. He won’t let it slip about you. He’s not a total bastard just cuz he’s a cop, ya know?”

Mickey bit his lip in contemplation. Gallagher seemed pretty genuine. Still didn’t much make sense in his brain, but whatever.

“Fine. But you know what’s gonna happen if—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, kick my ass, kill my family, got it.”

“You’re a cocky little shit, ain’t you?”

Ian smirked again, and it was pretty sexy, actually. “Maybe.”

He had the gall to push against Mickey more fully, pressing the bottom halves of their bodies closer together.

Mickey gasped. “Gonna have to ask you again… what the hell do you think you’re doin’?”

“You wanna go out sometime?”

Mickey cackled in his face. “You’re off your fuckin’ rocker for sure.”

“Am not! I can tell you want me.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ. Cocky little shit doesn’t even begin to cover it, does it?”

“Come onnnn,” Ian prodded.

“Do I look like I date, Gallagher?”

“A date can be whatever we want it to be, Milkovich. I’m easy.”

“Yeah, I bet you are.”

“Okay,” Tony interrupted, coming back into view. “Get the hell outta here. You wanna bang, do it indoors somewhere, or I’ll have to arrest you for public indecency or worse. And Milkovich… if I find any evidence of what I’m sure you know I’m talking about, I’ll be paying your ass a visit real soon.”

Mickey let the eyeroll loose then, withholding a flip of his middle finger, and deadpanning instead, “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, officer.”

Tony sighed loudly. “Whatever.”

“Thanks, Tony!” Ian cried at his retreating back.

“You always kiss cop ass like that? Cuz that’s not the way to get into my pants, Red.”

Ian just grinned, finally pulling his body away as he looked around. “You gonna follow me home or what?”

Mickey wanted to tell him to go fuck himself and swagger away like a badass. But was he not a thirsty man being propositioned by a hot guy who just randomly saved his ass from a trip to the slammer?

He at least feigned protest, huffing and puffing as he kicked at the dirt. “Goddamn it, Gallagher, you drive a hard bargain.”

Ian’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, as Mickey added, “Lead the way, weirdo.”

[jtem]

Better Call Saul Season-6 Predictions #2

[Breaking Bad spoilers]

Let me clarify.

In Season-4 of Breaking Bad Gus finally wreaks his revenge on the cartel, in the famous poisoning scene, and then delivers his final blow to Hector, telling him to his face what he had done, and how Jesse had killed his son and how there are no more Salamancas left and the name dies with him (Hector). So, Lalo has to die. He’s not around for Breaking Bad, Breaking Bad shows us the deaths of all the living Salamancas and Lalo isn’t one of them. Lalo dies. Period.

And Jimmy/Saul has to be involved in some way.

Lalo seems to trust Jimmy, Jimmy & Kim would like nothing better than to get out from under Lalo so if Gus/Mike/Nacho need him to set up the guy he has every reason to do so, ESPECIALLY if they’re paying him.

Getting out from under a mad dog killer is good, GETTING PAID TO DO IT is vastly better...

I’m thinking this is what breaks up Jimmy & Kim. 

Someone once said to me that the only real unforgivable sins are maiming someone or murder, because neither can ever be taken back -- murder being considered worse, as apparently even amongst the “Unforgivable” there is still a tiered system.  And this is logical. But, even more so; Murder is illegal. I think that Kim might be willing to look the other way for most crimes but murder is going to be just too big for her to wrap her little lawyer head around. So that’s my prediction:  Lalo dies, Jimmy/Saul is involved in the plot, plays a major role even if not himself the actual murderer, and Kim Wexler just can’t move on from that.

As for Kim:  I would  *Love*  to see her end up with Howard. Yes he was kind of mean to her before she left the firm but, let’s face it, he could have done a lot worse and she wasn’t exactly innocent. 

I dunno. Howard is kind of the male Kim. Even better; Howard is what Kim always wanted to be. Think of this:

Kim was Jimmy’s inspiration to climb out of the mailroom but who was Kim’s?

(Howard. I’m saying it was Howard)

Howard lived the life that Kim always wanted, came from the home that Kim always wished she could have come from. Plus Howard is a nice guy. He is. They dump on him constantly but he’s a great guy! Chuck was an asshole. I mean, could you imagine ever trying to live with someone as anal retentive, as uptight and control-freakish as Chuck? And Jimmy is fun but totally unreliable and even DANGEROUS! Never mind the ethical issues, never mind the constant threat of legal consequences; the guy brings killers home!

Howard is a nice guy. Howard is the man that Kim deserves, and Howard deserves the loyalty that Kim has shown Jimmy. 

So I’d love Kim to wind up with Howard.

   ...”I ship Kimward.”

Howim?

(Take your pick)

Okay, Nacho:

Nacho has been a victim the entire show. Well, he ripped off the pharmaceutical guy but that was almost a case of “Well we’re criminals, you’ve got what we want and you told us where it was, so we can’t not go take it.”

Anyhow, Nacho has been a victim through the series so I can’t see him being anything but that at the final season’s close. Which means I don’t see him surviving. At least that’s what I’d do if I was one of their writers. He’s a popular character, a fan favorite and he’s not in Breaking Bad. His death will have a powerful emotional impact on the audience and it’ll tie up the Breaking Bad loose end.

If it matters:  Gus has the greatest motive for killing Nacho. Sure, the Salamancas have a motive because of his involvement on the attack at Lalo’s house, but everyone knows that Gus was behind it. Well, everyone but the cartel.

GUS MADE IT CLEAR that he couldn’t have his fingerprints on a Lalo hit, and the only two people who know for a fact that he was behind the attempt are Lalo and Nacho. So if Gus is a cautious man then he would have to think that killing Nacho is a very good idea.

Francesca?  I’m thinking that Jimmy & Kim reboot their office, hire back Francesca only for Kim to walk after Jimmy’s little conspiracy to commit murder experiment on Lalo. And I’m thinking that Francesca only came back for Kim. That, she liked Kim, she kind of saw through Jimmy, and she was happy to go work for Kim again. But, she signed a contract with the firm...

“Ice Station Zebra Associates.”

So Francesca signed a contract with “Ice Station Zebra Associates.” She can’t just walk. She’s stuck there. After Kim leaves Francesca is stuck with Jimmy and that’s why she’s always so unhappy. She’s taking out her anger on the world, not Jimmy. Her dissatisfaction is over life, not Jimmy. This is why she doesn’t just blow the whistle on the guy and get out of her contract. Plus the money is good.

BREAKING BAD TIMELINE CROSSOVER

Once Lalo is dead and Nacho is out of the picture (probably murdered under orders from Gus), the Salamanca organization is over. Which means it’s time to cut off the Mexican cartel and start up the laundromat lab...

Right?

Well. There’s Tuco. Right now he’s in jail over in the Better Call Saul universe, but he’s the only one north of the border who could possibly run things. In fact, he was attempting to relocate to Mexico when Hank caught up to him. 

Over in Breaking Bad there’s no reason to think that Tuco had been out of prison for very long before Walt crosses paths with him. Skinny Pete says something like that it’s been a year, but a year from what? A year since Tuco got out of prison, or a year since Skinny Pete got out?

They didn’t both have to get out at the same time. When one was released THAT was the last time they saw each other... even if the other wasn’t released for a year or more.

So Better Call Saul could at least in theory run concurrent with Breaking Bad up to Season-3. You know, when Tuco’s cousins attack Hank, promoting a federal response that isolates Gus from the cartel...

I don’t think it will, but you see the potential here.��

Breaking Bad characters who might make an appearance:

Skinny Pete. ESPECIALLY if we see Tuco again, as they are supposed to be in prison together.

Combo? He’s dead in the Breaking Bad universe but still alive & well in the Better Call Saul timeline.

Walter White?  I think the fans want it, and it’s never a bad idea to give the fans what they want, but unless you overlap the timelines... the car wash?

Maybe Gus or Mike or Kim or Nacho gets their car washed?

Walter began Breaking Bad working a part time job there, so it’s a good public place to bump into him.

HOW IT ENDS?

Jimmy gets arrested. 

As far as anyone knows, he hasn’t done anything too wrong. Seems like Yule is the only one who could do him any real damage and Yule owes the guy a great deal. So Jimmy had shady clients. So what? Probably his most serious crime would be his flight from justice. 

Does Jimmy kill the cab driver? My best guess is that he does not. He is at his heart a negotiator. He conned the money out of his victims, he didn’t stab them or shoot them. So I would think that Jimmy would try something else. And it fails.

[unfolded73]

Near-Death Experience (1/1) - schitt’s creek ff

Patrick of the past is able to see what his future might hold if he can find the courage to seek it out. (ao3) Rated Teen, 4600 words.

Notes: I don't know, I just have a thing for past versions of characters getting to see what their future holds. Okay yes, I've put Patrick in peril again, but it's just a device to allow him to have an out-of-body experience. He'll be fine. The character of "Debby" is inspired by Michael on The Good Place.

_____________________________

When the sickening cracking sound rings out through the rural Canadian forest, the first thing Patrick Brewer thinks about as he plunges into the icy pond water is what the headline will be in the morning paper.

Local man fall through ice, dies

or maybe

Stupid local didn’t understand basics of ice thaw, dies

or perhaps

Climate change claims life of sad local man

Then he imagines his parents, dressed in black and crying at his funeral. Perhaps bitterly regretting that they didn’t have a second child, a backup child. All they had was this one kid, and despite the fact that they kept him “alive ‘til twenty-five,” like they always used to joke, it still feels like he was a waste of their resources. As it turns out he only made it five more years. They should have had a child who stays indoors and knits scarves and does not follow stray dogs out onto frozen ponds like Patrick apparently does.

It’s only as he slips beneath the icy surface that he finally thinks of Rachel, his fiancée. And if he feels just the tiniest bit of relief at the idea that at least he won’t have to go through with marrying her, well. Maybe that’s the hypothermia talking.

~~~

“Patrick.”

He blinks open his eyes, and then immediately closes them again because everything is very, very bright.

He licks his lips and clears his throat and speaks. “Where am I?”

“Mmm, that’s a bit of a difficult question to answer,” says a woman’s voice. “This place doesn’t really have a ‘where’.”

Patrick makes another attempt at opening his eyes, this time with a little bit more success. Not that it explains anything. He is looking at a tall, angular, middle-aged woman in a gray pantsuit, and beyond her… well, nothing. An infinity of whiteness stretches off into the distance.

An Infinity of Whiteness, good name for that overly earnest rock band you tried to start when you were sixteen, his traitorous brain supplies.

“What do you mean?” Patrick asks.

The woman shrugs and smiles and clasps her hands together. “I think it’s best that for the time being, you not worry overly much about where you are. It will distract from the things I need to talk to you about.”

Patrick is turning in a circle, looking for some other landmark in all of the nothingness. He casts his mind back, and memory strikes him like a punch to the stomach. How he was out for a morning run when he saw a stray dog stranded out on the pond. How he stopped and walked out to try to lead the dog back to shore, memories of the countless hockey games of his youth making him confident of his safety. And then a crack almost like a gunshot and a tumble into frigid water.

“I’m dead, aren’t I?” Patrick asks the woman.

She winces and see-saws her hand back and forth. “You’re not dead, but you’re not not dead. It’s a bit dicey at the moment.”

Patrick nods, feeling weirdly calm about the news that he’s dead. Or dying, anyway. “Cool,” he replies flatly.

“Look, I try not to intervene in the lives of people, I do. And most of the time it’s not like I even can, you know?” He doesn’t know, but Patrick nods. “But this is one of those unique situations where I can interact with you. I mean, you’re probably not going to make it, but you might!” She gives him a cheery smile and a thumbs up. “And if you make it, this might help you.”

“Who are you?”

“Wow, you’re just full of complicated questions today!” Her perky voice feels a bit like it’s piercing into his brain, and Patrick brings a hand up to pinch between his eyes as she continues talking. “As for a name, why don’t you call me Deborah. Or Debby? I like Debby. It’s not my name, but you wouldn’t be able to pronounce my actual name.” She laughs. “As for what I am, I mean, some religious traditions would probably call me an angel? But that’s not really accurate. Demon is closer, but that has a negative connotation that I’m not a fan of.” She wrinkles her nose while Patrick gapes at her.

“You don’t look like you believe me,” Debby says.

He lets out a breath. “What I believe is that I’m hallucinating. That this is random electrical impulses from my brain as it’s denied oxygen.” He read a book about it, about alternative explanations for the things people report as near-death experiences. It’s comforting, knowing that’s all this is, even if it doesn’t bode well for his chances of survival.

The woman — Debby — taps a manicured fingernail against her teeth. “I’m not sure if you believing that is particularly helpful for me? I mean, it probably means you’ll do less screaming, which is good. I hate it when they scream. But I kind of need you to believe in the reality of what you’ll be seeing if it’s going to get your life on track.”

“Wow, that’s not ominous at all. What am I going to be seeing?”

With another smile, she snaps her fingers.

Patrick’s vision blurs and there is a rushing sound in his ears and when he is able to focus on his surroundings, things are still very bright. But this time the brightness comes not from an infinitely white room but from sunshine coming through big panes of glass. Through the window, he can see the pant legs of someone up on a ladder, most of their body out of sight above the view from the window. He turns, and absorbs the fact that he is in what looks like some kind of store. A tall man with black hair is across the room, his back turned as he works at one of the shelves. There are cardboard boxes everywhere, as if the store is being set up for the first time. Bottles sit out on a large table that dominates the middle of the room. Half the shelves are empty.

All in all, it is a very specific and yet somehow mundane hallucination.

Then he watches himself — another version of himself, that is — come out from a doorway with another box in his arms.

“Don’t worry, they can’t see or hear us,” Debby says.

“Okay,” Patrick replies. He wasn’t worried about that, on account of the fact that it’s all imaginary.

“So this is your near future,” Debby instructs like she’s a tour guide.

“David, where do you want these bottles of toner after I put the labels on?” imaginary Patrick asks.

The man he calls David turns and comes over, inspecting the bottles. Patrick’s first impression of the man is of eyebrows and cultivated stubble. “So I want the labels closer to the top than the bottom, so that the bottom of the label hits the bottle exactly at the halfway point,” David says, indicating on the bottle full of pale liquid with a hand adorned with several silver rings.

“Uh huh,” the other Patrick says. “And then where do you want me to put them after they are precisely labeled to your exacting specifications?”

David raises an expressive eyebrow at Patrick’s sass, his mouth slightly open as if he’s trying to formulate a comeback. Then he gestures to a shelf, his hand fluttering. “Over there.”

“Okay.” Patrick watches his other self watching David go back to the shelf where he was working.

Patrick turns to Debby, who is watching them too. “In my near future, I’ll leave my lucrative job in financial planning to work retail?”

“Well, yes, but that leaves out some steps. You leave your lucrative job because you want to escape your old life and move away. Put some distance between yourself and that girl you couldn’t seem to stay broken up with. Then you become a partner in this store because something attracted you to it. Or someone,” she says with a wink.

Patrick looks back at David, his broad shoulders contained within a fuzzy white sweater with black stripes. His other self is focusing on affixing labels to the bottles, but his eyes are straying over to David too, at least four or five times in the minute that Patrick spends watching them.

“Oof, the sexual tension is thick in here,” Debby says, clapping her hands together on each of the last three words.

Patrick feels himself blush, which is weird — why would he be blushing in a hallucination? “Oh, I’m not… you know.”

Debby blinks at him, uncomprehending.

“Gay,” Patrick continues. “I’m not gay.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Look, I won’t claim to understand what attracts one human to want to rub their body on another human’s body. All of it seems disgusting to me. But if you’re saying that you aren’t interested in that one,” she says, pointing to David, “because he’s male, well…” She laughs. “Wait until you see what’s next.”

Debby snaps her fingers again, but at first it doesn’t seem like they’ve gone anywhere. Except the store is organized now, Patrick realizes. The boxes are gone and the shelves are full, sunlight still streaming in through the windows, albeit at a different angle. It’s the golden hour before sunset and everything in the store gleams in the orangish light. His future self (or so Debby wants him to believe) is there again, standing behind the cash register and counting out the till.

David comes out of the back of the store and saunters toward the front. He wears a long sweater and black skinny jeans, and he exudes a kind of effortlessly cool vibe that Patrick isn’t sure he’s ever encountered in the real world. When David reaches the front of the store, he flips the sign to closed and locks the bolt. Patrick can’t help but stare at his graceful hands as they go through this practiced motion. Then David sort of shimmies his way over to the fake Patrick at the cash register, a smirk on his face.

Without looking up, the other Patrick says, “Don’t distract me, David; I’m counting.”

“Who said anything about distracting you?” David says as he positions himself behind Patrick, bending over enough to rest his chin on Patrick’s shoulder.

“Hmm,” Patrick says and he sounds annoyed, but the smile on his face is anything but. He continues to count.

Then David angles his head and drags his lips along imaginary Patrick’s neck, making his eyelashes flutter, and the visual makes a flash of heat burn through Patrick like a sudden brush fire.

“See? Are you sure you don’t like men?” Debby asks. “It looks like you like this man, at least.”

“This isn’t real,” Patrick whispers, but he can’t take his eyes off the two people behind the cash register. The way the other Patrick gives up on counting and spins around, pinning David against the white-tiled wall and kissing him, slow and filthy. The way that David’s hands, those graceful hands that Patrick watched on the door, slide down the other Patrick’s back to his ass.

“Yeah, this is where it would help if you weren’t quite so analytical about this experience, because if you don’t believe this is really in your future, then honestly, this is kind of a waste of time for me.” Debby shrugs. “Although it might be a waste of time regardless, because you might die in that cold water. Gosh, human bodies are so fragile! It never ceases to amaze me.”

“Thanks for reminding me that I’m dying,” Patrick says, but his gaze doesn’t leave the two men making out behind the cash register. “Aren’t they worried about people seeing them?” he asks, his eyes darting quickly to the window.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Debby says, and then she gives him an exasperated sigh. “I hoped this might unlock something for you. Why you aren’t happy with Rachel. Why you’ve never considered yourself a sexual person. Why you spent so much time in Brian Richardson’s dorm room when you were at university. Surely some pieces are clicking into place right about now.”

Across the room, the other Patrick breaks the kiss and takes a step backwards. “We have to finish closing, David,” he says, his voice rough.

“Do we, though?” David backs into the doorway of the room behind the cash register and shimmies his shoulders again. “Actually, I think I might need your help with some inventory in the back.”

Fake Patrick only seems to hesitate for a second before he follows David, pulling the curtain closed behind them with a firm flick of his wrist.

“You could go watch,” Debby says. “Like I said, there’s no way for them to perceive your presence.”

Patrick’s face flushes even hotter as he imagines what he might see behind that curtain. “What? No, why would I— I don’t want to— I’m good out here.”

Debby shrugs. “Suit yourself. I know I don’t want to watch. The way you humans put your mouths — which you eat with! — on any and all of each other’s body parts…” She shudders theatrically while a million images flashed through Patrick’s brain. He shakes his head, trying to banish them.

“This can’t be my future,” he says.

“Why not?”

He tries to ignore the sound of a moan and a muffled thump from behind the curtain, and imagines the leap that it would take to quit his job, to break up with Rachel for good, to move to another town, and get into a relationship with a man. None of it seems like something he is capable of, much less all of it.

Still, there is a part of him that also doubts that his brain, even in its dying gasps, could invent anyone like David. He’s unlike anyone Patrick has ever encountered before. He is…

He is, for one thing, unspeakably hot.

Oh.

“Ready to go?” Debby asks.

Another moan comes from the back room.

Patrick nods. “Yes, please.”

She snaps her fingers again.

They are at a baseball field; a small one, the kind you find in community parks, with one measly set of metal bleachers and the grass worn thin in several patches. Patrick spots himself immediately at shortstop, gesturing for the infield to shift position as a left-handed batter comes up to bat. Patrick’s team wears green and white, the words Cafe Tropical in script across the front. There’s a runner on first, edging toward second as the pitcher prepares to throw. Then the pitch — the tink of the metal bat against the ball as it bounces across the infield toward the other Patrick. He fields it easily, flipping the ball to the second baseman who spins and gets the batter out with an accurate throw to first. A cheer goes up, and Patrick quickly realizes it’s the last play of the game.

After some spirited congratulations of each other and from the opposing team, Patrick watches himself walk toward the bleachers, where David is engrossed in conversation with a dark-haired woman in a plaid shirt.

“Hey,” he says, plopping down on the bleachers next to David and putting an arm around him.

David looks up, surprised, one hand curled around a can of soda. Patrick again notices the silver rings on his fingers as the sunlight catches them. “Oh, is the game over?”

The other Patrick laughs, seemingly amused by David’s obliviousness. “Yeah, the game’s over.”

“Did you win?” the woman asks.

“We did, Stevie,” Patrick says, “I turned a game-winning double play.”

David kisses him. “Great job, honey. Or, I’m sorry? I don’t know what the appropriate reaction is.”

The other Patrick smiles fondly at him. “‘Great job’ was correct.”

“Patrick!” one of the other players calls. “We’re headed to the Wobbly Elm for drinks. You in?”

“Yeah, I’ll catch up,” he responds. Patrick looks at David. “I think I’m going to go get drinks with the team. You wanna come?”

“Actually, Stevie and I were going to watch…” He turns and looks at his friend. “What was it?”

“Carnival of Souls,” she says, a wicked smirk on her face.

“Mm, sounds fun.” The other Patrick kisses David on the cheek. “You coming over tonight?”

“Depends; am I in for some more of that repressed homoerotic locker room roleplay?” David says with a leer, leaning toward him with a hand resting high on the thigh of his white uniform pants.

“Oh my god,” Stevie says, sticking out her tongue in disgust. “I don’t need to know about that.”

The other Patrick rolls his eyes. “Probably not, now that you’ve told Stevie about it.” He kisses David on the cheek again. “Let yourself in if you want; I probably won’t stay out too late.” With a little wave, he hops off the bleachers and follows his teammates to the parking lot while David and Stevie set off in a different direction.

“Why did you show me this?” Patrick asks Debby.

“I wanted you to see that you have a well-rounded life here.” He’s still watching the other Patrick in the distance, who at that moment throws his head back and laughs at something one of the other baseball players says. “That you’re comfortable in your identity, because I thought that might be something you’d worry about.” Her voice sounds softer, more serious, more knowing than it has up until now, and Patrick turns to scrutinize her. “Okay look, I’ve paid enough attention to humanity to understand that someone who has been in denial about his sexual identity might assume certain things about what he might have to give up to live as an out gay person. I’m just showing you that you don’t have to give anything up.”

He thinks about that for a second, as he turns to look in the direction that David and Stevie disappeared.

Debby nudges him with her elbow. “You’re starting to believe this is real, huh?”

Patrick shakes himself. “No. No, I’m not.” He isn’t. None of this is real. Angels, demons, a handsome man with perfect hair in a long-term relationship with him… no.

She crosses her arms and looks up at the sky. “Okay. Let’s try this.” She snaps her fingers again.

The kitchen he’s standing in is empty, sunlight filtering through large windows and giving everything a warm, comfortable feeling. Cabinets painted a deep blue contrast against white tile, and Patrick starts to walk around the space. “No one’s here,” he says.

“I might have gotten the timing a tiny bit off,” Debby says.

Patrick goes over and looks at a stack of mail on the edge of the counter. The envelope on top bears his own name, with an address in Schitt’s Creek. He’s never heard of such an unfortunately named town.

Finally, thumping footsteps reach his ears, and a few minutes later he sees himself in sock feet, pajama pants, and a white t-shirt, holding a phone up in front of his face to look into the camera.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” future Patrick is saying into the phone.

“Don’t be smug, Patrick; it’s unattractive,” comes a familiar voice from the phone. Rachel.

Patrick catches a glimpse of her face on the screen as future Patrick walks by, a flash of tousled red hair and freckles. He sets the phone down on the counter and reaches for the electric kettle. A gold band on his left ring finger catches the sunlight. “I can’t help it if I’m always right, Rach.”

Patrick can’t stop staring at the wedding ring. Is he married to—

Rachel groans. “Whatever. That’ll teach me to call to thank you for something.”

The other Patrick fills the kettle and sets it on its base, flipping the switch to turn it on.

“How’s Nathan?”

“He’s good. Actually, that’s, um… that’s the other thing I was going to tell you. He asked me to marry him,” Rachel says.

A wide grin breaks out on future Patrick’s face as he picks the phone up again. “Rachel, that’s fantastic. I’m so happy for you guys. I mean, I assume you said yes?”

Patrick, tiptoeing as if it matters, positions himself so he can see Rachel’s face in the phone in his doppelganger’s hand. She is rolling her eyes. “Of course I said yes. Did you think you’d scared me off engagements forever? Kidding,” she adds quickly.

“Very funny.”

“I might even invite you to the wedding,” she says, “if you’re nice to me.”

The other Patrick looks regretful. “I wish we’d rekindled our friendship sooner. I would have liked you to be there when David and I—”

“Not sure I would have been ready for that last year, to be honest,” she says with a wince.

“Fair enough.”

“But now that I’m marrying someone more handsome than you…”

The other Patrick barks out a laugh, unfazed by the insult. Patrick can’t help but marvel at the way they are still able to tease each other in spite of what must have happened. “He’s also taller. And, I presume, less gay.”

Now Rachel is laughing, and Patrick is so amazed by the sight of their laughter that he doesn’t notice David coming in until he’s crowded up next to future Patrick so that he can peer into the phone. “Hi, Rachel,” he says, a sleepy rasp to his voice. He’s wearing black sweats, the words ‘Radical Feminist’ across his chest in block letters.

“Hi, David.”

The kettle starts to whistle, and Patrick hands the phone — and thus the conversation — over to David so that he can go make tea. David grabs the phone with his left hand, and Patrick can see a matching wedding ring on his finger. It’s all so neat and tidy, and it makes him irrationally angry. Or maybe in light of the fact that he’s currently dying in a frozen lake, the anger is completely rational.

“I get it,” he says, stalking over to Debby. “I get to marry someone I actually want to be with, and Rachel doesn’t end up hating me forever. It’s a perfectly cozy, domestic scene.”

She wrinkles her brow at him. “Isn’t that… good?”

“Yeah, it’s fucking fabulous. And highly improbable.”

Debby taps her fingers against her chin in thought. “Odds that you end up marrying the first man you fall for, are… 1.4% — you’re right, pretty slim, but even improbable things happen sometimes. Odds that Rachel forgives you after three years are high: 71%. You were best friends, so it’s not that surprising that you eventually got past it.”

He turns and looks at them again. David is still talking to Rachel, and Patrick puts a familiar hand on David’s hip as he moves around him to get to one of the cabinets. He pulls two mugs down, kissing David quickly on the cheek as he moves past him again.

Unable to watch anymore, Patrick walks out of the room, wondering what the rules are of his place. Can he wander anywhere in the house he wants to? Can he leave through the front door and walk down the street? If he goes far enough, can he find evidence to prove that this isn’t really the future? Some inconsistency? Some glitch in the matrix?

He pauses at the fireplace, eyes glancing over the wedding pictures arranged in nice frames on the mantel. He and David stand side-by-side in formalwear in the largest photo, smiling for the camera in front of a floral backdrop. In another, they’re flanked by Patrick’s parents on one side and what must be David’s on the other (although David’s mother — if that is his mother — looks like she’s dressed for a costume party). Everyone looks impossibly happy. He stares at his parents’ faces, looking for evidence that they’re disappointed in him, perhaps. He can’t see any.

Continuing on through the house, Patrick finds the bedroom.

He stands over the bed, looking down at the rumpled sheets and pillows, his imagination running away from him and his cheeks flushing hot. He doesn’t want to imagine the kinds of things he does in this bed with a husband (or maybe he really, really does want to imagine it). Sex aside, this is the place where he goes to sleep every night and awakens every morning with David at his side. It’s… a shockingly appealing idea.

He looks up to see Debby watching him.

“So say this is real,” Patrick says to Debby, feeling his heart pounding in his chest at the idea that a man like David loves him — loves him enough to marry him. Loves him enough to befriend his ex-fiancée. Loves him enough to share all the good and bad things about him.

“It is,” Debby says.

“Why show it to me? Will I wake up remembering all this? My supposed future?”

She winces. “No, that would make it all too easy. Or possibly it would drive you mad. But you’ll retain something, I hope. I’ve seen it happen before. You’ll retain enough to know that the life you’re living isn’t the right one, and that you need to make a change. Look, it’s not an exact science, but… oh hey, look at that!”

“What?”

“You’re going,” she says.

“Like… I’m dying?”

“No, silly. You’re going back. You’re going to live.”

~~~

Patrick’s head is on David’s chest, his hand possessive on David’s hip and their legs tangled together. Even though it was only a week apart, even though they’ve now made up in every way they can, it’s still such a profound relief being with him that Patrick feels dizzy. Of course, that could also be the post-orgasmic fugue state he’s in.

“Can I ask you something?” David whispers into the dark of his bedroom.

“Yeah.”

“You said you’d broken up with Rachel a bunch of times. What made it stick the last time?”

Patrick tilts his head back to look up at David. “I ran away and moved here.”

“Right, but what made you do that?”

“Oh, right. I guess since I’ve been avoiding the Rachel topic, I’ve also never told you about the time I almost died.”

David turns suddenly, tipping Patrick off of his body. “I’m sorry, what?” David asks in a high-pitched voice.

Patrick rolls his eyes at David being upset that past-Patrick was in danger, as if it isn’t self-evident that things turned out okay. “I walked out on what I thought was a solid frozen pond. Turns out, not so solid.”

“Oh my god.” David rubs Patrick’s shoulder sort of manically, the way he often does. It’s a gesture that seems like it’s intended to soothe Patrick, but Patrick is starting to suspect David does it to soothe himself.

“Fortunately, some guys saw it happen and were able to lie down on the edge of the break in the ice and pull me out. They called an ambulance and, long story short, I was okay.”

“Okay. What does that have to do with Rachel, though?”

“The accident, it gave me some clarity, I guess? I came away from it with this restlessness that I couldn’t explain. I ended things with Rachel and quit my job and packed up my car and a few days later, I got the job and the room with Ray.”

David kisses him. “I guess lucky for me that you almost died, then.”

Patrick smiles, snuggling into David’s chest again. “Lucky for both of us.”

[quirkykayleetam]

Coach Daniel Wei

Check the tag #High School AU if you want to see how our other Broken Pieces characters fair in this setting.  Beth seems to be the most overwhelmingly popular.  Many thanks to @stoic-whumpee and @burtlederp for their inspiration.  Apologies, I have a lot of feelings about public school gym classes and this got long.

Coach Daniel Wei’s gym class seemed normal for the first few weeks.  Or at least, it did for most students.  The only real difference was that he joined in with the class for 80% of their exercises and dressed out when they did.  He never asked anyone to do anything he wasn’t willing to do first.

The whispers began when people started talked to the Gym Abstainers, the folks in every class who refuse to change into anything other than skinny jeans, sit on the bleachers gossiping through class, and wear their Fs with a badge of pride.  For them, the first week was anything BUT normal when, instead of ignoring them or bellowing at them, Coach Wei approached them with a smile.

“Fantastic!  I’m glad we’ve got so many folks to work with this semester.”

The group of students exchanged awkward looks as he pulled out a list.

“I get that failing gym is kind of a tried and true thing.  If that’s what you really want, fine.  But I’d rather ask you, is there any sport or other physical activity you’ve ever wanted to learn more about?”

“How about kicking your ass?” a voice from the back said to a chorus of laughs.  Daniel grinned with them.

“I’ve got more martial arts certifications than you can count.  I’d be happy to teach you, but I would caution you NOT to make that your final exam.”

The group quieted and he turned back to the paper in his hand.

“This is a list of all the sports in season right now.  I’ve talked to the coaches and they’re looking for strategists.  That means going to all the games, learning the rules inside and out, and figuring out where the teams can improve using stop action reply, statistics, basically anything we can get from the VR club.  I’ll have laptops in here starting tomorrow for anyone who is willing to give it a shot.  Any takers?”

Slowly, the list got passed around.  He got back a lot of names plus a folded note with some scrawled initials reading: “Can you really teach me martial arts.  I don’t want to fight you, but I’m really into Mortal Kombat and think it might be cool.”  Daniel smiled.

The whispers increased two weeks later when Daniel showed up to class in full army fatigues.  Sure, most of the kids new he was ex-military, but he had never gone out of his way to SHOW it before.  He gathered everyone into the bleachers.

“As you know, up until now our units have been about basic physical exercises and team sports: stretches, push-ups, basketball, that kind of thing that I’m qualified to teach.  Today, I’d like to introduce a guest speaker and teacher, Ms. Angelica Turnfeld from the School of Performing Arts.  She is here to lead us in our unit on ballet.”

Daniel gestured and a beautiful woman with chestnut brown skin and pure point shoes burst into the room.  Even on the cheap gym floor she was grace incarnate and Daniel smiled at the few gasps he heard from the bleachers.  Angelica was a performer; she knew how to make an entrance.

“Uh, so what are we gonna do while the girls work on their twirly-twirls?” Trent said flatly.  He was the star of the football team and never let anyone forget it.  Daniel just smiled.

“Good question.  You’ll be with me, working on the male parts of the routine.  I can understand if you’re hesitant--ballet takes an incredible amount of stamina, dexterity, and upper-body strength--but I think you can handle it Trent and Ms. Turnfeld is here to help us out whenever we might need a hand.  Now,” he clapped his hands and music started playing from the back of the gymnasium.  “A demonstration!”

Daniel had to concentrate with every fiber of his being through the next five minutes.  Ballet was not his strong suit, but that was fine.  He was mostly there for the lifts and to make Angelica look as amazing as possible.  By the time the music ended, he could see most of the girls looking in wonder while some of the guys were contemplating the idea of holding a beautiful women in their arms and the rest were impressed or at least resigned.

By the time class ended, a few shy girls who had yet to excel in anything else, but took dance in their spare time, lead the class.  They left with a gaggle of cheerleaders asking about their footwork.  The football players’ jaws dropped as Angelica recounted her training schedule.  Someone from the bleachers who had yet to say anything asked Daniel if they could study Angelica’s dance group for their “coaching statistics grade thing.”  Daniel kissed Angelica’s hand and smiled.

---

Then came the breaking point: Final Exam Assignments.  Instead of judging all students by the same state standards that all the athletes passed with flying colors and everyone else dreaded with stones in their stomachs, Daniel handed out what they would each be tested on in one month’s time. 

 Austin, who had extreme asthma and would likely pass out if he was forced to run the traditional mile test, was assigned weight-training exercises and research on ways to improve health other than extensive cardio.  Brittany, who could cartwheel like nobody’s business but struggled with body image, was asked to do a back-hand-spring and research how many calories professional gymnasts ate every day.  A note at the bottom of her assignment said:  You need fuel to do beautiful things and what you do is beyond beautiful.

“What is this bullshit?” Trent demanded, waving his slip in Daniel’s face.  Daniel studied it.

“I believe it says that you’ll be graded on ballet, Mr. Johnson.  I’m not looking for you to choreograph your own routine, but you should be able to do the basic forms and maybe stretch for something more advanced.”

“And how am I supposed to learn this shit?”

“Well, for starters, I wouldn’t call it ‘shit,’ but I’ll help you out.”

Daniel glanced over to where the cheerleaders were gathered, comparing assignments.

“Dana, would you mind helping Trent for a moment?”

She ran over, her brown ponytail bobbing with movement and for a moment Trent looked mildly pleased.

It didn’t last very long.

Less than ten minutes later, Dana and Trent got into a screaming match that Daniel pretended not to hear.  It ended with Dana stalking back to the bleachers to talk to her friends while Trent, naturally, headed to Daniel.

“Dana won’t help me.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.  I can get you some books from the school library tomorrow, but it really is easier to learn from someone who knows what they’re doing.”  Daniel shrugged.  “I guess you’ll just have to get by.”

Trent’s face turned white, then red, then a rather startling shade of magenta.

“Is...Isn’t she gonna get points off?  For like, not helping me, Coach?”

This time Daniel looked Trent straight in the eye.

“Do you remember our basketball unit?  When I asked you to help Austin with his free throws?  You said it would be unfair to grade you on how much be improved because his natural talent had nothing to do with you coaching him.  I thought I’d apply the same idea here.”

Trent looked away first.

“You’re welcome to try to find someone else to help you,” Daniel continued, “But knowing Dana, rumor would have spread by now that you did not treat her very well.”

Trent looked up.  The girls in the gym stared daggers back at him.  He gulped.

“Good luck, Mr. Johnson,” Daniel said, turning back to his paperwork.  “I would hate to see you get a rough grade in gym.”

After that, all Daniel had to do was watch Trent struggle and wait.  In two weeks, Kelsey, a freshman with a bit of a stutter, started correcting Trent on his forms.  He yelled at her.  She shrugged him off.  He tried her suggestions--which worked.  She looked at him until he couldn’t get the next step down and finally broke.

In three weeks, Trent himself ran up to the coach.

“Look, I get that I was being an asshole.  Can I go back to something that will really help me now?”

Daniel smiled at him.

“I just talked to your football coach, Mr. Johnson.  He says your footwork has improved immensely and he’s even more excited about your college prospects next year.  You’ve got another week and a half left.  Why don’t you see what else you can do?”

[littlemisssquiggles]

RWBY Musings #72: A Farm Boy and his Bot. What if…Oscar gains his very own robot companion for the Atlas Arc?

So lately, I’m beginning to adore the concept of Oscar eventually gaining some kind of magical or rather unusual companion inspired by another known character from the Wizard of Oz. In my last musing post, I mentioned Oscar assuming control of Salem’s winged Beringels so that he may control them as the RWBY-verse’s equivalent of the Golden Cap.

Now I’m here to present another Oz-inspired possibility. What if…while in Atlas, Oscar either builds and/or gains the friendship of an Atlesian robot and this character will draw reference from the Oz character: Jack Pumpkinhead.

Oscar’s Robot

For those of you who might not know:

According to Wikipedia, in the second Oz book, the Marvellous Land of Oz, Jack Pumpkinhead is an animated homunculus. Jack is described as being incredibly tall with a skinny figure made from tree limbs and jointed with wooden pegs. He has a large carved jack-o’-lantern for a head which is where his name is derived from. Although, unlike most jack-o-lanterns, the seeds and other pumpkin guts were not removed from Jack so it substitutes for his brain.

Jack was originally made by a little boy named Tip (the male persona of Princess Ozma before she ultimately regained her true form) to scare his guardian, an old witch named Mombi. When Mombi saw Jack, she nearly smashed him to pieces but instead, decided to test out her new Powder of Life on him. The powder worked and made Jack come to life.

Jack has been noted to not be known for his intelligence which varies depending on the quality and number of seeds in his pumpkin-head at the time. Despite this, Jack manages to come up with random bits of wisdom and common sense often. That is the character of Jack Pumpkinhead.

As we know, Oscar Pine is alluded to Princess Ozma. Since Ozma is the original creator and parent of Jack Pumpkinhead, what if…Oscar will build his own Pumpkinhead in reference to how Tip made Jack Pumpkinhead or…perhaps Pumpkinhead is an Atlas Academy practice droid designed by Atlas for its students to gain hands on training during their combat simulation drills by fighting sentient machines

Perhaps…Pumpkinhead was an out-dated model that the school failed to maintain over the years. The bot had taken so many hits that it was due for decommissioning before being sent on its way to the junkyard scrap heap to be salvaged for it parts along with the others in its outdated series since Atlas was due to upgrade to newer, more efficient models in coming time.

Or…at least that was the plan before Oscar more or less rescues (technically steals) the machine---keeping it stored away where he and the other heroes were housed in Atlas---a full house suite organized for them courtesy of Winter Schnee and the General and overseen by Weiss who basically acts as landlady making sure nobody wrecks the place her sister generously helped organize for them. So Oscar keeps Pumpkinhead secured in his room while doing his best to repair the bot piece by piece with as limited resources as he had on his own time.

At first the former farm hand kept Pumpkinhead a secret away from the other heroes. But ultimately Oscar had no choice but to come clean about the tall, pumpkin-headed secret he’s been hoarding in his bedroom.

I’m kind of amused at the idea of Oscar being the type to pick up a stray robot without question. I think if done in the canon it could be a reference to Oz while providing a call back to Fullmetal Alchemist. After all, in FMA, Oscar’s VA--Aaron Dismuke played Alphonse Elricand us ole school FMA fans know how Alphonse was notorious for picking up stray cats. 

Picture…Oscar pulling an Alphonse just with picking up a stray sentient robot he was trying to patch-up. One of my favourite Pinehead headcanons is that Oscar has a natural born talent for mechanical engineering as a testament to his upbringing back on his family farm.

In the V6 opening, Oscar could be spotted reading an Atlas Mechanics magazine during his shot  with JNR and Qrow. A throwaway detail or conceivably a foreshadowing nod to what’s to be seen of this farm boy’s hidden talents during the Atlas Arc?

I’d absolutely love it if Oscar is good at repairing machinery with robots being no exception. I think that could be a really interesting skill for him to have. Plus picture the look on everyone’s faces to learn that our veteran farm boy’s got a knack for tinkering with them mechanical thingamabobbles and gadgets.

Remember how back in V2, Ruby snuck Zwei onto Team RWBY’s off-campus field trip to Mountain Glenn with Oobleck and we got that funny bit where Oobleck calls Ruby out only for Zwei to unceremoniously pop out of Ruby’s backpack; barking defiantly at her when she hisses for him to get back in the bag.

 RWBY Squiggle Script #016: Pumpkinhead

Picture it. A similar scenario like that with Oscar where an online, Pumpkinhead is unceremoniously uncovered in Oscar’s bedroom closet and the farm boy is awkwardly put on the spot to explain himself; all the while standing between his profoundly stupefied comrades and teammates (at least Jaune, Nora, Ruby and Weiss for the sake of this scene. Let’s say the others were away on other errands or something) and a spooked Pumpkinhead who sat curled up in a ball behind Oscar, frightened by the unfamiliar non-Oscar faces.

Jaune: ….Oscar, is that a… 8ft robot standing in your bedroom?

Oscar: Actually he’s 7ft 11 inches tall to be exact. But…yeah…it’s---it’s a robot.

Jaune: Okay, let me try asking again. Oscar, why is there a 7ft 11 inches tall robot in your bedroom?

Oscar: *chuckling nervously with a shrug* Would you believe me if I said he followed me home?

Weiss: *incredulously* Oscar, be serious. Did you steal that Atlesian Practice droid?

Oscar: *awkward laughing intensifies* Psssh no, of course not. I told you. He followed me...sort of. Look I’ll explain everything just promise me you won’t freak out if I tell you.

Despite their equally doubting expressions, the others settled down to listen to Oscar’s explanation.

Oscar: It started a while back. It was the first Battle Sim class for us first years and our professor wanted us to practice combat against a moving target. For that class we were each paired up with a practice droid to spar with. I got this fella. *pats Pumpkinhead* For some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to…hurt him. The minute I raised my weapon, he just looked at me and curled up all frightened and shaken. I know that sounds really, really crazy but… it did happen. Even my teacher took notice and started yelling at me to take it down. Show no mercy against the enemy, he said. Even if that enemy is a defenceless practice droid who was more scared of you and…refused to fight. So naturally, I refused to fight too.

I won’t attack an opponent who isn’t trying to harm me. So I ended up not fighting at all and…as you’d expect, the teacher sent me straight to Ironwood.

Jaune: *incredulously* So that’s why you were in trouble before? For refusing to beat up one practice droid?

Oscar: *nods* Yeah. Turns out you can get a full month’s detention for anything at Atlas Academy. As punishment, I was put in charge of helping with droid maintenance. The robo-tech guy supervising me is a real piece of work, to say the least, but other than that, it wasn’t half bad. I didn’t mind looking after the droids. From there, I noticed this guy following me around a lot. Even when he was supposed to be offline, everywhere I turned, he was there just…staring at me. I guess you could say he took a weird shine to me after our forfeit fight. It was really weird and really uncomfortable, at first.

But after a while I got use to the stares and actually started to appreciate the company. *chuckles*  You can say he’s been my fateful companion during the more boring detention days and he’s a surprisingly good listener. Doesn’t say much…or…do much except stare but I think we became friends.

Weiss: *dubiously*…You befriended…a robot?

Oscar: *defensively* It can happen.

Ruby: He’s right. It can.

Weiss: *exasperated* Please don’t encourage him.

Nora: Can you guys quit interrupting? I wanna know what happens next? Go on Oscar.

Oscar: *frowning* Well…what happened next is actually the worst part. One detention, I didn’t find him with the other bods. Some first years from my class had rented him out for some extracurricular target practice.

Ruby: What… happened?

Oscar: *exasperated; fist clenching* What’d you think? They broke him! Wrecked him up really bad. Students are allowed to fight the droids after school but these students overdid it. And what’s worst is that after they were done, they just…left him. The robo-tech will clean up the mess for us, they said. They didn’t even bother returning him. Just left him in pieces. I tried to tell them off but I was useless. They just pushed me aside.

Nora: *annoyed* Please tell me you reported those jerks!

Ruby: Did you tell someone? Ironwood? The robo-tech?  

Oscar: I tried but…it just made things worse. I told the robo-tech about what happened but… he didn’t care. I asked him if he could repair him but he said… *scoffs* He said fixing damaged goods isn’t in his payroll. It’s not in his job requirements to fix the bots, he’s just supposed to polish them up and make them look pretty. Who cares if a couple of them get ruined in a few rough sparring matches? Atlas’ got the funds so why bother fixing the broken bots when they could just as easily replace them with newer models. If I had left him as is, he would’ve been scrapped! I…couldn't just…leave him like that. I had to do something so…

Ruby: …So…you saved him?

Weiss: He stole it!

Oscar: I…*head handing guiltily* Yeah, I stole him, yes.

Weiss: I can’t believe it. We’ve been hoarding a felon.

Ruby: Weiss, quit being so overdramatic.

Weiss: I am not!

Nora: So…exactly how long have you been hiding this bot here under our noses?

Oscar: Let’s see, one…two weeks so probably…about a month.

Groans all around, the most audible being Weiss’. Ruby being Ruby appeared more sympathetic.

Ruby: Well… he seems to be up and running now. Why didn’t you try taking him back to the school again?

Oscar: He’s not completely fixed yet. There’s still more work to be done but I can only do some much with such little tools and with such a little workspace. Besides I already tried that but...he won't let me. I think he's too scared to go back there after what those kids did to him.

Weiss: He’s scared? He's a machine!

Ruby: Weiss, even machines can have feelings too. 

Weiss: But---

Oscar: *wearily* Do you guys mind lowering your voices please? He doesn't like it when you yell. He hates loud noises.

At this, Oscar gently pats the tall robot behind him.

Oscar: It's okay big guy. We won't yell anymore. It's okay, Pumpkin.

Ruby: *snorts* Pumpkin?

Oscar:*embarassed* Uhh…yeah. It’s short for Pumpkinhead. 

Nora: Aww. That's kind of sweet.

Weiss: *arms crossed with an incredulous expression* You named it!

Jaune: *reasonably* Oscar, I understand you want to help this bot but you do realize he's Atlas Academy property. You can't just keep him in the house. He's not a pet.

Oscar: *pouting* I know I can’t keep him but he's still pretty messed up. If I take him back to the school as he is now, they'll throw him away for sure. At least let me try and fix him first. Please.

Jaune: Oscar...

Oscar: *imploringly* Please.

Jaune and Nora exchanged unsure looks. Weiss huffed but in the end it was Ruby who spoke up.

Ruby: Okay.

Weiss: What! Ruby you're not serious!

Ruby: It's like Oscar said, we can’t send him back to the school broken. The least we can do is let him finish fixing him. 

Weiss: Unbelievable.

Ruby: Weiss...

Ruby plants a firm hand on Weiss’ shoulder, looking at her squarely so she’s certain the Schnee girl could see her serious expression.

Ruby: Please.

Weiss stares at Ruby blankly for a few beats before finally sighing, admitting defeat.

Weiss: Fine. But it's not staying in here. *indicates to the bedroom* There’s an empty storage room downstairs in the basement. It's not much but it’s definitely more appropriate to house your...Pumpkin friend than a small bedroom closet. It’s yours till the bot is fixed and…I’ll see if I can get you some better tools to speed up the process. While I detest lying to my sister and the General, I guess I could always say it’s for a school project or something. Not making any promises.

Oscar beams.

Oscar: Thank you Weiss-cream.

Weiss: *eye twitching* Call me that again and you and your bot will be sleeping in the streets tonight.

Oscar: *nervously* Y---Yes ma’am. I promise I’ll move Pumpkin as soon as the storage room opens up.

Weiss: Good. Just…hurry up and fix it. The last thing we need is trouble with Atlas Academy.

---

As promised, Oscar moved Pumpkinhead immediately into the storage room after Weiss gave him access. In this next concocted scene, Pumpkin is safely secured with Oscar now standing behind him on a chair for added height while he worked diligently on repairing some of the remaining damages done to its head.

Oscar:  Alright big guy. You’ll only feel a slight tickle but I promise it won’t hurt.

 Pumpkinhead voices his disapproval with incoherent robot noises but otherwise stays trustingly cooperative while Oscar patches him. When Oscar was done, he patted the top of Pumpkinhead’s head with a proud grin, happy with his handiwork.

Oscar:  There you go. Now that part’s all done for today. See. Not as bad as you thought, right bud? Nothing to be scared about.

Ruby: Didn't realize you were such a robot whisperer.

Oscar nearly falls off his chair as he zips around to find Ruby standing at the top of the staircase leading down into the storage room. She wore an amused smile; arms crossed as she came down.

Oscar:  *embarrassed* Ru---Ruby? How---How long have you been standing there?

Ruby: *giggling* Not too long but long enough to see you sweet talk, Mr. Pumpkinhead over there. Are you sure you don’t need any help fixing him? Yang’s pretty handy; no pun intended and…I might know a thing or two that could help out too just so you know. I did built my weapon from scratch after all.

Oscar:  Thanks but…as much as I’d love the extra hands, I don’t want to distress Pumpkin too much. He’s not really open to new people right now. Besides I used to help my uncle fix the machinery back on the farm. Fixing a giant robot, surprisingly not that different from fixing a tractor. I mean it is different but my Uncle Henry was the best mechanic I know. Taught me everything he knew and I've always loved a good pet project.

Wiping his grease stained hands on a handkerchief he kept in his back pocket, Oscar smiled broadly as he patted the top of Pumpkinhead’s exposed top once life time before closing it shut. After that, the young boy jumped down from his perch to stand next to Ruby, admiring the work he was able to get done that evening.

Oscar: *smiles at Ruby* It's a slow hurdle but at least we’re getting somewhere, y’know?

Ruby: *nods; smiling back* Well uh...you seem to be doing a pretty great job so far on your own. I'm actually really impressed. 

Oscar: *blushing* For real?

Oscar tried leaning against a small table that was next to him; absently neglecting the table had wheels. Immediately Oscar scrambled to regain his balance and make sure the tools on top the table didn’t  clatter to the floor and startle Pumpkinhead. While he was victorious in keeping the giant bot at ease, that didn’t stop him from momentarily making a spectacle of himself in front of Ruby who eyed him closely, hand covering her mouth to supress another giggle.

Oscar: *cheekily* I meant to do that.

For the sake of Oscar’s pride, Ruby ignored  his last blunder as she slowly approached Pumpkinhead. Instantly, the bots beady white eyes swivelled around inside their socket to focus in on Ruby.

Ruby: He's looking a lot better from earlier.

Oscar: *rubbing the back of his neck bashfully; cheeks slightly flushed* Thanks. I owe Weiss big time for letting me use the storage room. It’s amazing how much more work I can get done when I’m not trying to hide a giant robot in my closet anymore.

Ruby nods wordlessly as she slowly edged closer to Pumpkinhead, eyes wide with curious wonder. Now Ruby was standing close to the robot’s legs. The instant she made an attempt to move further, that’s when the uproar started. Incoherent static mechanical noises echoed throughout the garage as Pumpkinhead made a fuss trying to move as far away from Ruby as possible.

Immediately, Oscar pulled Ruby back making sure to gently move her as far away from the robot as possible. After he did that, he ran to the robot’s side, doing his best to silence its distressed signals.

Oscar: Whoa! WHOA! Easy Pumpkin. She's a friend. She’s not going to hurt you. Easy bud, easy.

A few gentle words and reassuring pats later, Oscar managed to tame the robot yet again and Pumpkinhead settled silent once more. However its optical eye never left Ruby who now stood far, a bit shaken herself. Now it was her turn to be comforted by Oscar who returned to her side with a reassuring smile.

Oscar: … I should have warned you. Pumpkin doesn’t really like anyone coming near him except me. Sorry about that.

Ruby: No it’s….okay. Is he better now?

Oscar: Yeah, he should be good so long as you stay over here.

Ruby nodded. Rubbing her shoulder nervously, she made an attempt to break the awkwardness of her blunder.

Ruby: …So ......Pumpkinhead, huh? 

Oscar: *chuckling* Name of the year, right?

Ruby:  *smirking wryly* I guess. Why that name though?

Oscar: It’s an old boring farm boy story you probably wouldn’t want to here.

Ruby: *smiling* Oh yeah? Try me.

Her answer made Oscar smile.

Oscar: Well; when I was a little kid growing up on the farm, we had this old neighbour. I never learned what her real name was. I just used to call her Ms. M for mean because she was the meanest old lady in the world, at least to 10-year-old Oscar. Although she had her own farm with her own cornfields, she’d always let her pigs and her weird four horned cow wander onto our side of the land and destroy our crops before they could harvest.

Ruby:  *disbelievingly* I’m sorry. A four-horned cow?

Oscar: *nods* Yep. And each time my family complained, she’d just laugh at us and still leave her animals to mess up our crops while hers remained perfectly fine. Not that it helped much. She was actually a really bad farmer and all her former farmhands couldn’t stand working for her.

Ruby:  She sounds like quite the handful.

Oscar: She was. I hated that old lady. Aunt Em taught me that it’s not good to hate people but that lady was a real witch. She was never nice to me and she was even worst to my aunt. Reminds me a lot of that Mombi kid from school actually. Both are a bunch of bullies.

Anyways, one harvest, 10 year old me figured he had enough of Ms M and wanted to teach her a lesson. So I picked  the biggest pumpkin I can carry and built this giant scare---er---pumpkin hoping he would scare Ms M and her animals off our land. You can probably guess what I named him.

Ruby: *drumming her finger against her chin, pretending to ponder* Hmm, think, think, think. *snaps fingers and grins* Pumpkinhead?

Oscar: *laughs* You've been paying attention.

Ruby: *giggles* So what happened? Did the OG Pumpkinhead scare away the old wicked witch next door?

Oscar: Nope. Didn't even phase her at all. Actually it was the ten shot gun bullets through the window from Aunt Em that did the trick. Never dared bother us again after that.

Ruby: *jaw hanging in a mix of shock and amusement* No way! 

Oscar: *grinning wide* Yes way! I can still hear my Aunt Em now. Oscar, fetch me my gun! No, not that one! The bigger one with the bigger bullets.

At this point, Ruby was in stitches, hardly able to contain her laughter and Oscar joined her.

Ruby: *though laughter* I'm sorry. I'm having a hard time picturing your dainty old aunt firing a gun.

Oscar: *chuckling* There's an old Mistralian saying back home. You don’t mess with the west and if it hails from the south, get out. West and South Anima are mostly farming lands. If there are two things you don't play with in my neck of the woods, it's family and produce and that old witch had it coming big time.

I'd never forget the look on her face when my aunt marched straight up to her house and blew out all her windows. All ten of them on all sides. Not a single piece of glass was spared that day. Em even took out Ms. M’s glass eye. But for that she used a teeny, tiny pistol.

Ruby: *wheezing* You are making this up!

Oscar: *sarcastically* Would I lie?

Ruby gave Oscar a knowing look, punching him playfully in the shoulder.

Oscar: *chuckling* Okay, okay, you got me. That last part about the glass eye is made up but everything else is full proof. Farm boy's honour on my uncle’s grave.

Oscar grinned cheekily and Ruby only shook her head in amusement at the former farm hand.

Ruby: Wow. And I guess this Pumpkinhead reminds you of home.

Oscar: Yeah. Y'know he's not too different from the one on the farm. He's bright orange. Got two beady eyes and a crooked moon smile. Big ole pumpkin-sized head and skinny arms and legs---

At Oscar’s comments, Pumpkinhead made a noise from behind as if to show his displeasure of Oscar’s remarks about its physique. Oscar backpedals, turning to flash the robot a kind-hearted smile.

Oscar: *chuckles* I don't mean that in a bad way Pumpkin. You're a good boy. Yes you are, Whose the best Pumpkinhead in the world? You are!

At Oscar’s affectionate comments, the colour on Pumpkinhead’s eyes turned neon pink as if to reflect its delight of being coddled by Oscar and its robot legs even wiggled, as if mimicking a dog wagging its tails happily at its owner. It is a unexpectedly adorable moment that even makes Ruby gush. So much so that she forgets herself.

Ruby: *cooing; heart-eyes; clapping her hands excitedly* Awww, he is a sweet guy!

This time, Pumpkinhead sprung up suddenly; bursting through the cables that Oscar was partially using before in his current stage of repairing the bot as it shuffled behind whatever giant piece of infrastructure within the storage room was big enough to shield the bot from Ruby. From there Pumpkinhead remained.

Oscar groaned, rubbing his forehead. Ruby, in turn, looked to him guiltily.  

Ruby: *apologetically* I am so, sorry. Things were getting so cheery, I forgot about…before. I’m really sorry Oscar. I guess Pumpkin really doesn’t like me now, huh?

Oscar: *exasperated but assuring* Don't…*sighs*…Don’t take it personally. It's not really you. Pumpkin’s scared of everyone. He's alright with me because I think I'm the first person who hasn't tried to hurt him before. Kind of a bad thing to say, isn’t it?

Ruby: Well...isn't he a practice droid? Aren't they built specifically for combat? To take a hit whenever on the battlefield?

Oscar: Yeah but...that doesn't necessarily mean he liked being used that way. What if all the other practice droids are like Pumpkin?

Ruby: I think your guy is a special case, Oscar.

Oscar: You’re probably right. But it makes you wonder doesn't it? I know you guys must think I'm being silly for caring about something that's technically not alive but...he feels alive to me. When he's scared...I feel his fear. I understand it as if it's my own. It's not his fault he was born to be this. He never asked to be made into a practice droid for others to beat up on him whenever they liked. It wasn't his choice. He just had to accept the role he was dealt with but just because this is his life now doesn’t mean he has to like it. He's free to feel scared and not be okay with everything. 

Ruby eyed Oscar weirdly. Even though she knew he was speaking from the heart in defence of Pumpkinhead,  she couldn’t help  but get the impression that his words felt oddly off. As if there was more to them between the lines.

Ruby: *concernedly* Oscar, is everything...okay? With you?

Now it was Oscar’s turn to eye Ruby strangely.

Oscar: *surprised* Yeah I'm good. Why wouldn't I be?

Ruby: I---

Ruby opens her mouth to continue but instead decides against it; claiming it wasn’t the right time to pry.

Ruby: Nevermind. 

Oscar looks over Ruby once more, waiting to see if she might say something else but when she doesn’t, he shrugs casually.

Oscar: I'm...going to go check up on Pumpkin. Did you need me for something?

Just like that, Ruby remembers why she came down to the storage room in the first place. She blushes, a bit embarrassed that she had gotten so distracted before.

Ruby: *awkwardly* Oh right! No, no, I just...came down to let you know dinner's almost ready.

Oscar: *smiles* Ooh good I'm starving actually. Let me just clean up here and I’ll join you up upstairs.

Ruby nods. As Oscar makes a move to tidy up to leave, that’s when Pumpkinhead peep its head out, eyes fixed on Oscar.

Oscar: Hey buddy, I'm going up to eat now. I won’t be gone for long but I need you to be on your best behaviour, okay?

Oscar had meant to sound more assuring but his attempt was met with distressed robotic chatter. At the noise, Oscar’s expressed dropped shamefacedly.

Oscar: …Look, I know you don't like it when I leave but…I’ll just be upstairs. I’ll only be gone for like four minutes. Three if I eat really fast.

The robotic distressed signals only intensified and Oscar slumps, face in hand.

Ruby: What's wrong? 

Oscar: *sighing* He's…in one of his clingy moods, tonight. Must've been all the excitement from today. When he's stressed like this he doesn't like me to leave. Doesn't want to be left alone. *groans loudly* Guess I'm missing dinner. 

Ruby: No you don't. I'll bring your plate down for you. I'll just let the others know we'll be having dinner in the garage tonight.

Oscar: Wait… we?

Ruby: Yeah. You, Pumpkinhead and me. *smiles brightly*  You can keep Pumpkin company so he doesn’t stress out and I can keep you company. But…that's only if you---y’know, want my---

Oscar: No, no it’s cool. I---Pumpkin's not much of a talker anyways and...

Oscar flashes Ruby a smile.

Oscar: I'd like your company.

Ruby: *beaming* Great! I promise I won't overstep again this time. Besides…

Ruby turns her attention on Pumpkinhead who was still peeping out at them.

Ruby: *perkily*We may have had a rough start but don't worry Pumpkin, you and I will be bestest of friends in no time too.

Ruby flashes Pumpkinhead a big toothy smile, hitting him with a big ole Ruby Rose thumbs up only for Pumpkin to jolt and zip his head right back behind his hiding spot.

Oscar: *sweatdrops* Sorry.

Ruby: Playing hard to get I see. Not to worry, I've befriended your type before. You're not getting me to give up that easy.

With a determined huff that earns a chuckle from Oscar, Ruby turns on her heals to head back upstairs.

Oscar: Hey Ruby?

Ruby looks back.

Oscar: Thank you. From me and Pumpkin. *cheeks reddening* Mostly me.

Ruby says nothing. Instead she just smiles brightly, pleased with herself to see her friend smiling at her. With that, she leaves to go grab their food.

And scene.

What do you guys think? Now this squiggle meister has shared quite a bit of Oscar- themed theories and Pinehead headcanons before but I think this one has become one of my personal favourites especially as we’re going into the Atlas Arc. 

I already got my wish last season with the introduction of flying monkey Grimm in the series. Now what I’d love to see next is Oscar awakening his inner mechanic and creating Pumpkinhead. And after Pumpkinhead, perhaps even Sawhorse will be integrated into RWBY as well as both characters were signature in Princess Ozma’s side of the story.

Words cannot fathom how much I really, really dig this idea. I really want Pumpkinhead to become a canon character in Oscar’s story now because I think it could be pretty cute for Oscar to have his very own robotic companion who he becomes attached to. Ruby had Penny but unlike Oscar, Penny wasn’t canonically invented by Ruby. Pinocchio wasn’t made by either Little Red Riding Hood or Dorothy Gale.

However Princess Ozma did create Jack Pumpkinhead and eventually Sawhorse.

Who knows? If my Pinehead theory comes true, perhaps Oscar will invent his own Pumpkinhead while in Atlas. Atlas is the most technologically advanced kingdom in Remnant  so it is a huge possibility. Plus as I’ll point out again, this fits into the Wizard of Oz. If Oscar becomes an inventor on top of being a great and powerful wizard, I don’t think anyone can really complain because it comes with the source material he was influenced by.

Plus Oscar becoming an inventor could be something worth exploring as part of his individual story outside of his story with Ozpin. The whole Ozma reincarnation cycle and magic and longstanding battle with Salem to protect humanity became part of Oscar’s story via his connection with Ozpin who is essentially the Wizard of Oz.

But Oscar inventing Pumpkinhead is more connected to Princess Ozma who he draws reference from. So therefore, this is an opportunity to develop Oscar as his own character outside of Ozpin. Right now, most of Oscar’s story has primary been focused the part he shares with Ozpin. 

That’s fine but… ya’ll know how much I have been advocating for Oscar to get his own fair share of development, right? And I think this is an idea on how RWBY can do that while drawing reference from the fairy-tale character Oscar was based off of. This is something the CRWBY Writers can do with Oscar while in Atlas as a means of fleshing him out. I’m just saying.

But y’know. For now, it’s only just another theory to add to the rest as always.

More Squiggles’ RWBY Content 

~LittleMissSquiggles (2019)

[caveartfair]

Long Demonized in Art, Eve Has Become a Pop Culture Icon

Divinely inspired or otherwise, the Old Testament story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden is deeply rooted in the Western psyche. Eve occupies mere pages of the Genesis epic, but women have spent millennia atoning for her original sin. For the last 2,000 years, Eve has been invoked in the monotheistic world to suppress women’s rights and defame their characters. How many misogynistic stereotypes and prejudices stem from the reputation of the much-maligned, archetypal first woman?

The apostle Paul cited Eve’s narrative to justify women’s subservience to men, writing in the apocryphal book of Timothy that women should “keep silent” because “Adam was formed first, then Eve. And Adam was not deceived, but the woman was deceived and became a transgressor.” In the Middle Ages, St. Bernard of Clairvaux sermonized to rapt audiences of men and women that Eve was “the original cause of all evil, whose disgrace has come down to all other women.” More recently, at a legislative dinner in 2015, South Carolina Senator Tom Corbin was confronted for his combative remarks about women’s right to participate in the state’s General Assembly. “Well, you know God created man first,” he quipped. “Then he took the rib out of man to make woman. And you know, a rib is a lesser cut of meat.”

Adam and Eve, 2015. David LaChapelle MARUANI MERCIER GALLERY

From these rigid perspectives, Eve is one-dimensional: inherently wicked and an afterthought to Adam. Yet across popular culture and the history of art, Eve appears as a paradox. She is guileful and naive, earth mother and fatal seductress; she is the problem of man, his downfall, his eternal scapegoat.

Such depictions have structured our ideas of beauty, gender, and morality. The oldest conceptions of Eve play out again and again in all reaches of contemporary culture. A judiciously placed apple in a woman’s hand in art, advertising, or film can immediately invoke Eve’s devious sexuality, and still other references abound. The Handmaid’s Tale (2017–ongoing), adapted by Hulu from Margaret Atwood’s dystopian novel, features a young, religious character named Eden, who is expected to help repopulate the country. By the same token, in Pixar’s animated children’s movie WALL-E (2008), the title robot meets a fellow android who has come to bring new human life to Earth. Her name? EVE.

Forbidden fruit

Lucas Cranach the Elder, Adam and Eve, 1528. Courtesy of the Uffizi Gallery.

Though never explicitly named in the Bible, the apple has become the de facto “forbidden fruit”—powerful nomenclature for that which is fatally desirable, and therefore all the more tempting and worthy of moral rule-breaking. The apple’s shiny red skin and juicy interior make it an apt stand-in for sex, and the seductive way in which Eve is often depicted eating it only reinforces its libidinal connotations. Genesis records that after Eve takes a bite of the fruit, she simply “gave some to her husband and he ate.” St. Jerome, however, used the Latin word seducta to describe Eve’s transgression.

During the Northern Renaissance, German artist Lucas Cranach the Elder perfected the bewitching female nude. In his Adam and Eve diptych from 1528, the couple faces one another beneath the Tree of Knowledge, little red apples bobbing tantalizingly above their heads. A self-possessed Eve holds one perfect fruit out to her husband, who scratches behind his ear in apparent befuddlement. In Cranach’s depiction, it’s not the serpent whispering in Eve’s ear or even the apple that is dangerous, but the perfectly beautiful and alluring woman who will be his pleasure—and his downfall.

Domenichino, The Rebuke of Adam and Eve, 1626. Courtesy of the National Gallery of Art.

Men are often shown as helpless in the face of this female threat. In Domenichino’s 1626 painting, The Rebuke of Adam and Eve, God and his coterie of cherubim float down from heaven to reproach Adam. The first man throws up his hands in what looks like confusion or exasperation, diverting the entirety of the blame to his wife.

The image of Eve as sexual temptress has remained frighteningly constant, even in products and programs that purport to challenge ingrained sexist tropes. In the early aughts, for example, the soapy comedy-drama Desperate Housewives was lauded for casting five middle-aged women in the lead roles. The intended audience for the salacious TV show was presumably women, yet the impossibly fit, botoxed, and high-heeled characters seemed designed to appeal to men.

The apple’s shiny red skin and juicy interior make it an apt stand-in for sex, and the seductive way in which Eve is often depicted eating it only reinforces its libidinal connotations.

Red apples played prominently in promotional materials for the show. In the title sequence, an animated version of Cranach’s Adam is crushed by a giant falling apple as a blasé Eve looks on. In posters ahead of season five, the topless cast smiles coyly from behind a row of apples and the tagline “Even Juicier.”

So should one eat the apple or abstain? Designer Donna Karan exploited this ambiguity for her long-running DKNY scent Red Delicious. In the ads, a pouty model has just bitten into a green apple (how subversive), and the perfume packaging itself is shaped like the fruit. Sin is no longer the province of Eve alone: The “new temptation in fragrance” was marketed to both women and men.

Once in a while, the story of a woman with an apple doesn’t explicitly end with damnation or sex. In Disney’s Aladdin, the apples Princess Jasmine steals for a young, hungry boy lead to her meeting the titular male hero. They go on to have fabulous adventures together, but it’s Aladdin who reveals the world to Jasmine, and not the other way around. Sometimes apples—potent transmitters of dangerous information—are exchanged between women. In the 19th-century fairy tale that would later become a Disney classic, a witch proffers the poison apple that puts Snow White to sleep.

Snake charmer

In the book of Genesis, the tempting creature is explicitly referred to as “he” and is described only as a serpent. Yet Eve’s casting as an evil temptress gave rise to the belief that the duplicitous snake was female, too. In art, it was often depicted with a womanly upper body and a reptilian lower half. If wickedness is associated with femininity even before Eve gives Adam the Forbidden Fruit, which came first, woman or sin?

Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel version of the Fall sees his muscular Adam and Eve joined by an equally hulking snake-woman wrapped around the tree. Her right arm grasps the trunk for support as she stretches out to meet Eve’s upraised hand. Both Eve and the serpent use their left, or “sinister,” hands, further signaling their deviousness.

Michelangelo, The Fall of Man, 1512. Image via Wikimedia Commons.

Michelangelo was merely following a popular convention of his time. During the Renaissance, snake-women appear in Hugo van der Goes’s The Fall of Man and The Lamentation (ca. 1470–75); a terracotta sculpture of Adam and Eve by the workshop of Giovanni della Robbia (ca. 1515), which took inspiration from a famous Albrecht Dürer engraving; and the stone facade of Notre Dame. A blonde-headed serpent woman in Masolino’s Temptation of Adam and Eve (ca. 1425), a fresco in Florence’s Santa Maria del Carmine, is frighteningly funny: She snakes along the Tree of Knowledge with her comically tiny head popping out of the end of her skinny green body.

Left: Hugo van der Goes, The Fall of Man and The Lamentation, 1470–75. Courtesy of the Kunsthistorisches Museum. Right: Masolino da Panicale, Temptation of Adam and Eve, ca. 1425. Courtesy of Cappella Brancacci.

Giovanni della Robbia, Adam and Eve, ca. 1515.

Even before the Bible story, snakes were associated with women in cultures around the globe. The hostility that is created between them in the Bible may have been a way to separate the nascent Jewish community from pagan traditions that had a snake as a powerful female goddess. The Canaanite cult of Baal-Asherah heavily influenced the newly formed Israelite nation. In the predominantly female cult, Baal appeared in the form of a serpent with his wife, Asherah, at his side. When the Israelites entered Canaan, pagan religions were demonized in lieu of monotheism.

In this light, the story of Adam and Eve has political undertones. The biblical narrator may have already witnessed an established association between the serpent and the woman in neighboring tribes. When God punishes them, a wedge is driven between the serpent and the woman, cursing everlasting “enmity” between them and their offspring. The story successfully alienates the woman from her longtime ally.

Left: John Collier, Lilith, 1887. Image via Wikimedia Commons. Right: Pantaleon Szyndler, Eve (Temptation), 1889. Courtesy of the National Museum in Warsaw.

They are indeed powerful together. Who can forget the 2001 MTV Video Music Awards, when Britney Spears walked onstage with an albino python draped across her neck? Dressed as an exotic snake charmer and scantily clad in artfully tattered rags and glitter, Spears fully assumed her onstage persona as an outlet to embrace her newfound sexual freedom. The conflation of the pop star with a sexual goddess transpired before millions of girls and women in the public forum of television. With that scene from Genesis, snakes and women received their eternal reputation of immorality. The snake became an erotic symbol as “the bad girl” gained sex appeal.

The fall of (wo)man

Britney Spears performs at the 2001 MTV Video Music Awards. Photo by Kevin Mazur/WireImage.

Spears’s performance resonates with an artwork made over a century earlier by Pre-Raphaelite painter John Collier. With her perfect, naked body and long blonde hair, the woman in the 1887 painting who nuzzles the head of the giant snake sensually coiled around her looks like Eve. But in fact, it’s her alter ego, the legendary femme fatale, Lilith.

Fed-up women looking for a new matriarchal origin story have taken in Eve beneath their own gaze. They have embraced the qualities—independence, curiosity, sexuality—that once demonized her.

In Jewish literature, the enchantress Lilith is described as Adam’s first wife, before Eve. Lilith was man’s equal but was devilish in her sexuality. According to legend, she felt repressed by Adam’s side, and she eventually leaves him to cohabit with demons in deep waters. In folklore and pop culture, she has come to be known as the mother of demons and vampires, eater of babies, husband of Satan—in short, a dangerous, sexually liberated woman.

Lilith Fair, 1998, Mountain View California. Image by Tim Mosenfelder / ImageDirect via Getty Images.

Finally, in our modern era, fed-up women looking for a new matriarchal origin story have taken in Eve, and her alter ego Lilith, beneath their own gaze. They have embraced the qualities—independence, curiosity, sexuality—that once demonized her.

Kiki Smith’s take on Lilith (1994) is a powerful and disturbing sculpture—a black-bronze horror movie demon, nude and crouched in a spider-like position high up on the wall. The glass grey eyes startle any viewer. An unlikeable woman, who is not sexually available, nor coy, is a forcefully unusual statement.

Madam Satan from The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina. Photo by Diyah Pera. Courtesy of Netflix.

Lilith appears in many guises in TV and movies: the progenitor of the vampire race in True Blood (2008–14); Madam Satan on The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (2018–ongoing); the frigid, hated ex-wife of sitcom icon Frasier. The sci-fi movie The Fifth Element (1997) turns the concept of Lilith on its head by having the main character Leeloo—a variation on Lilith—save humanity instead of devouring it. Her name has also been invoked as a statement of feminist independence: The Lilith Fair of the late 1990s adopted the legendary woman’s name for a music festival that showcased only female artists or woman-led bands.

Villanelle from Killing Eve. Courtesy of the BBC.

One recent TV show has gone above and beyond in complicating our understanding of Eve, and women. The BBC series Killing Eve (2018–ongoing), which follows an M15 agent, played by Sandra Oh, as she tracks down a psychopathic female assassin portrayed by Jodie Comer. Guess who is Eve? It’s not the assassin. The delight of the show is seeing the intense connection unfold between the so-called good and bad guys. Who is on which side becomes impossible to understand—both women contain multitudes. The sexual drama lies between the killer, Villanelle, and Eve—not a man. Though the title of the show probably refers literally to Villanelle’s overarching plans, it’s also a fitting metaphor for the destruction of the story of Eve itself—and all the misery, unfair expectations, and misrepresentation that have come along with it.

from Artsy News

[recentanimenews]

Four New Shoujo Series from Kodansha

Note: With the exception of Love in Focus, these are digital-only releases.

Love in Focus, Vol. 1 by Yoko Nogiri Having really enjoyed Nogiri-sensei’s That Wolf-boy Is Mine!, I was happy to see another of her titles get licensed. Alas, it’s another short series.

Mako Mochizuki is entering her first year of high school and has been invited by her childhood friend, Kei Akahoshi, to attend a school almost four hours away from home by train. Both of them are really into photography, having been taught by Mako’s grandfather before he passed away, and this school has a photography club with a professional for an advisor. Furthermore, they both live in a boarding house occupied almost entirely by club members. The one outlier is another first year, an introverted guy named Mitsuru Amemura who claims to hate photos.

I really enjoyed Mako as a protagonist, and probably will always enjoy a lead character who’s truly passionate about something (and good at it, too). I also liked that it’s the way she sees the world, and her ability to find beauty in the smallest things, that convinces Amemura to open up about his past and consent to be her photographic subject. I could definitely do without Kei and his pissy possessiveness of Mako (even if he did invite her because he understood how lonely she was at home without her beloved grandpa) and hope that we’re not going to be expected to buy into a love triangle scenario.

It’s true there are shades of Shortcake Cake in this story, but it’s distinct enough that I intend to follow both of them. Also, this one has a really cute dog.

Love in Focus is complete in three volumes. Kodansha will release volume two in English in May.

My Sweet Girl, Vol. 1 by Rumi Ichinohe My Sweet Girl has a fairly generic premise: Tsugumi Koeda (her last name means “twig”) is a short, skinny girl who believes she’s not the kind of person who gets to fall in love. “No guy has ever looked at me as a girl in my whole life,” she narrates, but this changes when she meets popular Masamune Sena, your standard princely shoujo love interest, who inspires her to begin expressing her femininity more overtly.

On the one hand, I liked Tsugumi’s insecurities about her physique and that she thinks things like, “I never, ever want to show my body to Masamune-kun.” Her wariness of being led on and her gradual realization that it’s okay to be more true to herself are good, too. On the other hand, the execution of this storyline at times leaves a lot to be desired. So many times, background characters will pipe up with cruel comments out of the blue and it feels so unrealistic. Like, random passing fifth graders berate Tsugumi for her appearance, and a group of boys who knew her in junior high interrupt her summer festival outing with Masamune just to call her a stick. We get that she faces some adversity, but this is verging on lame. Too, I lost track of how many times Tsugumi falls down, is knocked down, or passes out. It happens A LOT.

There’s enough to like about My Sweet Girl to entice me to return for a second volume, but if she falls down half a dozen more times in that one too, I probably won’t proceed to a third.

My Sweet Girl is ongoing in Japan, where the ninth volume has just come out. Kodansha will digitally release volume two on Tuesday.

Ran the Peerless Beauty, Vol. 1 by Ammitsu Are you despondent now that Kimi ni Todoke has finished? Are you looking for a series with a similar feel? Look no further, because Ran the Peerless Beauty is here!

Ran Takamine is seemingly perfect. She’s beautiful, rich, extremely smart, and athletic. She’s also been deemed undateable, as boys are too intimidated to talk to her, expecting her standards to be sky-high. In reality, though, she’s a sweet girl who works really hard and is completely inexperienced with boys. When she accidently sprays Akira Saeki with a hose while diligently performing her duties for the Gardening Club, she’s surprised by how cheerful he is about it.

Gradually, they become friends, bonding over their love of flowers. Akira’s father runs a flower shop and his ambition is to get good enough to create bouquets. Ran joined the Gardening Club to help “sensei,” but adds, “I had the feeling that I’d rather be around flowers than people.” Akira can see that, rather than being snooty, she’s just a bit awkward.

What reminds me of Kimi ni Todoke is both Ran’s classic beauty and her attitude. Her male classmates won’t make eye contact with her, but not because they fear being cursed but because she shines too brightly, but she’s really just a normal person with her own weak points. Akira is sunny despite some scary family circumstances—it’s not until late in the volume that Ran learns his mother is in the hospital—and encourages Ran to come out of her shell a bit.

I can see this evolving into quite a lovely story, and I am so here for it. I also hope to learn more about Akira, his circumstances, and how he sees Ran. We do at least know that their growing feelings are mutual, which is nice.

Ran the Peerless Beauty is ongoing in Japan, where the fifth volume has just come out. Kodansha will digitally release volume two later this month.

World’s End and Apricot Jam, Vols. 1-2 by Rila Kirishima The blurb for the first volume of World’s End and Apricot Jam wasn’t very encouraging. “After breaking into Anzu Shinohara’s apartment and smashing his already broken keyboard, Hina Sakata quickly finds herself in his debt. As she works to pay him back, Hina finds out that Anzu is a vocalist in a band and becomes entranced, wanting to explore more of his unkown world.” It’s all technically correct, but suggested to me something more Sensual Phrase-y than what actually occurs, to my great relief.

Hina lives with her father, who is ostensibly the manager of an apartment building. He spends his days getting drunk, however, so she takes over his duties so that he doesn’t lose his job. One of their tenants is the slovenly guy in #304, who turns out to be a singer in a band. He’s also full of contradictions—and I don’t mean his transformation from “goofy weirdo” to “charismatic vocalist”—as he finds himself repeatedly drawn to Hina only to pull himself back at the last second.

It’s true that Anzu’s indecisiveness plays with Hina’s emotions, but it does truly seem to be unintentional. He’s in his twenties and has done a lot of things that he’s not proud of. (“I’m no good and a liar.”) And here is this girl, so sweet and great, whom he comes to care for in a way he hasn’t cared for anyone in a long time, and yet… is it right to encourage her feelings when she’s an innocent and might be better off without the baggage of his past and his angst?

Ultimately, I liked this series a lot more than I was expecting to. I also like that it’s a fairly short series; these sorts of scenarios can get tiresome when they go on too long.

World’s End and Apricot Jam is complete in six volumes. Kodansha will digitally release volume three on Tuesday.

Review copies provided by the publisher.

By: Michelle Smith

[julia-highstorms]

The Girl With The Leopard Print Coat (Damien x OC (Ellie)) - NSFW

Summary: A sketchbook, punk music and a leopard print coat were everything that Damien Nazario remembered of that night.

Author’s note: this fanfic takes place in my “The Third Park” AU, before the events of PM, even before Damien met Allen and Nadia and Alana. This is a special part showing that Ellie was the first ‘Park cousin’ D actually met.

Copyright: Characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, only Ellie is mine. Damien is 100% human here and mine is a Male!MC named Allen. Santiago Cabrera’s, Ni Ni’s and all the gifs don’t belong to me.

Songs: 4ever by The Veronicas and Get You Alone by The Donnas are the songs that most inspired me to write this story, but I made a playlist with the songs that were playing during the rock show, songs that Ellie listened to as an emo-punk rocker girl (AKA what I listened to when I was a teenager and still listens to sometimes lol). The links for each song is in the fanfic!

Pairing: Damien x Ellie (OC)

Rating: +18 (drugs, sex and rock n’ roll)

Word count: 5260

Tagging my TTP readers: @christopher-powell @boneandfur @kennaxval @writtenbycandy @thequeenchoices @client327 @damienazariostan @never-ending-choices @walkerismychoice @laniquelovely @confessionsofabrokegirl @dangerous-capri15 @parkerattano @clarissafics @pilitella @hellomynameisdeviblaire @odetomars @cocomaxley @her-imperial-hangman-s @endlesswoods @miss-cordonia-deactivated201808 If you would like to be tagged, please, tell me!

The girl was wearing a band t-shirt, black ripped skinny jeans, a leopard print coat, combat boots and a choker with spikes that matched her rocker style. She had a straight short black hair and, despite the bang partially covering her face, Damien Nazario could see that the stranger - she probably was around 20 - was pretty. Her curious dark eyes scanned the train car as she brought the sketchbook in her hands closer to her face.

From the spot where he was standing, Damien couldn’t see what she was doing, but using his investigative skills and basing on the way she kept glancing between the people in there and her sketchbook, the man guessed that she was drawing them. She already was doing it when he entered the car.

Then, her eyes locked on his. He gave her a small grin which she responded with a coyly smirk, her cheeks getting a shade pinker. Damien concluded that he was her next target as her hand expertly moved on her sketchbook.

Eleanor Zhou was a junior at Hartfeld University and one of her favorite hobbies was drawing strangers in trains. Especially when they were dashingly gorgeous like that one.

She had just finished sketching an old lady reading a book across her seat and was looking around, wondering who she should draw next, when her eyes locked on a standing figure a few feet from her.

He had his hair cut very short, clever brown eyes, a chiseled jawline, super kissable lips and his nose and dark eyebrows brought harmony to his handsome face.

Ellie felt a heartleap when she noticed that he was already staring at her - but not in a creepy way -, curiously. The attractive stranger - he was a few years older than her, in his mid-twenties - grinned slightly, as if he was allowing her to draw him and so she did. They exchanged a few more glances and smirks, until it was her stop. The girl quickly put her sketchbook and pencil in her backpack and hopped out of the train.

She saw him looking at her one last time as she walked down the platform of the Brooklyn Bridge subway station. The train and the gorgeous stranger were soon gone.

It was October’s last Saturday night and twenty-year-old Ellie was in New York City, her favorite city in the whole world (not that she had seen much of the world, but still). Her parents had let her go there to watch the show of her favorite and obscure femme punk band, Coagurot (they would never tour near Cedar Cove, her hometown, and they weren’t known enough to go to Hartfeld), only if one of her cousins agreed to go with her.

“Yes, Mom, I’m on my way to meet Nadia, and then we’re going to the bar where the band is going to play.” - she spoke through her phone. - “No, Allen won’t go with us because he’s out on a date... I don’t know when it will end, there are a lot of other bands playing tonight and I want to listen to them too.” - she heard her mother’s concerned voice from the other side. - “Yeah, I’ll text you when we get home, but you and Dad will probably be sleeping. Don’t worry, everything’s going to be okay and I’ll be back to Hartfeld tomorrow evening. Love you too, bye.”

She ended the call and let out a relieved sigh. Her mom always worried way too much. She was just going to watch a concert with her favorite cousin (and okay, Nadia Park wasn’t exactly the most responsible person in the world, but Ellie knew that that small cinnamon bun would fight anyone to protect themselves). If her mother knew about all those parties Ellie went to in Hartfeld and what happened there…

“Oh my God, you’re here!” - Nadia squealed as she pulled her cousin into a tight hug. - “Did you find your way easily? The subway map can be a little confusing!”

“Yeah, it was all good. Thanks for letting me sleep here today, by the way.” - Eleanor entered the small studio apartment. It was a mess like always, but at least the couch was free.

“Good! I’m sorry I didn’t meet you at the station, I was too busy looking for the perfect look!” - Ellie chuckled as she put her backpack down.

“You know we’re going to a punk rock concert, right? Not a fashion show.”

“I know!” - Nadia rolled her eyes and shoved her cousin playfully. - “But I have to look the part, you know! If they find out that my favorite band is Coldplay, I’ll be massacred there! So!” - she spinned on her toes. - “Do I look like a punk princess?”

“The tutu certainly gives you a princess look and the ripped pantyhose and combat boots are punk-ish. They’re beautiful, by the way, just like mine.”

“Girl, how can you wear them everyday?! They’re so heavy!”

“I guess we just get used to them.” - she shrugged. - “Besides, they’re way easier to walk around than high heels.”

“Hey, don’t you dare say anything about my heels! You got lucky that you’re tall!” - Ellie chuckled. Nadia was always the same. - “Anyway, when will the bands start playing?”

“They will start at 10 o’clock, but I guess Coagurot will play only around midnight.”

“Then we have enough time to gossip and grab something to eat before the show!” - Nadia said, applying a heavy makeup to her pretty face. - “So, any news?”

The bar was located in Manhattan and they ate hot dogs from a street food vendor on their way there. When the two girls arrived, a band was already playing.

“Oh my God, it’s Black Flag!” - Eleanor squealed excitedly, walking through the crowd to get closer to the small stage of the place, with Nadia following her close behind.

“The guitarist is cute!” - her cousin observed, making Ellie roll her eyes.

They enjoyed the rest of the show and more two bands played before Coagurot was finally announced.

“You used to love me but now your heart is cold as ice…” - the singer sang intensely, the crowd cheering wildly. Eleanor singed along, flipping her hair around as she rocked back and forth.

Even after Coagurot had finished their set and were substituted by another band, the two cousins continued dancing into the night, energized by the electric vibe of the place.

Damien Nazario asked for his fourth beer and another shot of Bacardi of that night. Maybe if he kept drinking, the alcohol would make all that noise more bearable. He was on his favorite dive bar, he liked to go there whenever he felt like celebrating - or just drinking, to be honest - and to listen to the people who performed there. They usually were jazz bands, but that night it was happening some kind of a music festival, with a lot of punk bands taking on the small stage.

Punk wasn’t really his scene; he liked the good old rock n’ roll better.

And he knew that he could just simply go home - it was past midnight already and he had to go work early on Monday -, but he saw a certain girl with a leopard print coat in the middle of that mosh pit.

And Damien firmly believed that coincidences didn’t happen; that it was some kind of sign. What were the odds of meeting her twice in the same night?  He should go talk to her when he had the chance.

...But she still was in the middle of the crowd, dancing alone and singing along to the song, so beautiful looking like she was having the time of her life. He watched her from the bar counter, sipping on his drink.

After he finished his beer, the man decided to go outside to smoke a cigarette. He was trying to quit it, but smoking always seemed to make the time pass faster, and the girl didn’t seem to be leaving the dance floor so soon.

After two hours of uninterrupted dancing and jumping, Eleanor Zhou’s legs and her dry throat were begging for a break. She looked around, searching for Nadia - who disappeared during the pit; she still wasn’t ready to be a part of it -, when she saw her cousin in one dark corner, making out with a long haired dude. Ellie chuckled to herself as she headed to the bar counter.

The girl asked for a bottle of water when she noticed a broad shouldered and not completely stranger figure walking towards the backdoor of the bar. After she got her drink, she followed him, heading outside, which turned out to be a smoking area.

The place smelled like nicotine, pot and piss, some people smoked in groups and there were couples with their tongues down each other’s throats, but Ellie didn’t care; her eyes were locked on the lone figure leaning against the building’s wall.

It was him. The guy from the train. That was a sign. It had to be. What were the odds of meeting him twice in the same night? She simply had to talk to him now. Besides, she was leaving NYC the next day. That was her only chance to talk to him.

Taking a deep breath, she walked towards him, her heart pounding inside her chest.

Of course Damien Nazario noticed the girl with the leopard print coat approaching him, but he just kept searching for his lighter, with a cigarette on his lips.

“Uh, hey.” - she greeted him with a coyly smile. He looked up to her face. She was even more beautiful closer, with her cheeks flushed due to all that dancing and jumping around. - “I guess I saw you at the train earlier.” - he finally got to light up his cigarette.

“And I saw you.” - he grinned back at her. - “How was the drawing?”

Her smile widened slightly. She felt happy that he remembered her. And he seemed easy to talk to.

“It turned out okay. If I had the sketchbook with me here I’d show you, but I left it at home. It’s a little hard sketching on a moving car, but you were great standing still. Thanks for that.”

“It was my pleasure. I’m Damien by the way. You?”

“Ellie.” - they shook each other’s hand. His hand was big and warm and hers was smaller and softer.

“So, Ellie… I was about to offer you a drink… but I guess you’re not old enough yet, based on your drink choice.” - he pointed to the bottle of water in her left hand. He liked the sound of her laugh.

“Well, I still can’t buy myself a drink, but if you’re really willing to do that, I won’t deny it.” - he chuckled softly. She was smooth.

“You really shouldn’t be telling me this.”

“Why, are you a cop?”

“Detective.” - he quickly showed her his NYPD badge. She seemed impressed but not intimidated by it. - “I’ve been promoted recently. This is why I’m here, actually. Celebrating on my favorite bar.”

“Oh yeah, you definitely seem to be on a celebrating mood. Drinking alone and smoking on the corner.” - she mocked him. His grin widened slightly too. She was bold and sarcastic; Damien definitely liked her.

“Well, I’d be happier if there wasn’t so much noise inside.”

“It’s not noise; it’s music.” - Ellie corrected him.

“All I can hear is a lot of yelling and no melody.”

“Oh my God, don’t tell me you’re that kind of guy who considers only ‘classic rock music good’. This is such a turn off.”

“I’m not saying this… but I kind of agree with it.” - she rolled her eyes.

“And what do you consider ‘real music’, then, Mr. Detective? Which is your favorite band?”

“Dire Straits.”

“...Okay, they are good.” - she agreed with him, making Damien chuckle again. - “But that doesn’t mean that today’s music isn’t good too. They’re going to be tomorrow’s classic.”

He partially agreed with her.

“So you came here tonight for the show?” - she nodded at him, taking a sip of her water. He glanced at her rosy lips, wondering what was her taste. - “Which one?”

“Coagurot, a femme punk band from Texas. But they played like an hour ago and I’ve been enjoying the other bands too. Unlike someone.” - he decided to ignore her mockness.

“Hmm… and are you leaving any time soon?” - he saw a mischievous shine on her eyes.

“I don’t know.” - she shrugged. - “My cousin simply vanished after the mosh pit. I think she is making out with some random guy somewhere. What about you? Leaving soon?”

“I was planning on going home, but I guess I can stay a little longer.” - he scooped closer to her. Their lips were just a breath away, his thumb already brushing off the hair of her pretty face, when she suddenly pulled out, smirking mischievously.

“You know what? I guess you really should give another chance to my ‘noisy punk music’. What do you say?”

Damien knew she was playing with him. But he agreed to play her game anyway.

“Okay, sure. Why not?”

She smiled widely before shoving him back inside. He put out his halfway smoked cigarette.

“Hey! What are you doing?” - Ellie asked when Damien stopped walking suddenly.

“I told you that I would give another chance to punk music by listening to it, not by going in there.” - he pointed to the crowd jumping around like crazy right in front of the stage. The girl rolled her eyes.

“Hmm, are you scared of getting caught in the middle of a mosh pit, Mr. Detective?”

“No.” - he frowned and she knew that he clearly was lying. He was afraid of it.

“Okay, okay, we can listen from afar then.” - she said, leaning against the wall in the back of the bar, right next to him.

The listened to the edgy music in silence. Ellie bobbed her head following the rhythm of the song.

“Seriously, you have to confess that the beat is energising.”

“It certainly is… but how can someone dance to it? And by ‘dancing’ I mean using your body, not just your head.” - he kept criticising it. She rolled her eyes one more time before turning to face him.

“It’s simple; I believe we can dance to pretty much anything. All you need to do is move accordingly to the rhythm.” - and then she started throwing her head back and forth, her arms in the air, her hips swinging to the music in the right tempo. - “And feel the music.”

Damien watched the girl dancing in front of him, arousal building up inside him. He could have said that it was because of the alcohol, or because of that look in her eyes and her cheesy smile, or even the strangely sexy beat of the song that was playing, but the true was that he wanted her so fucking bad.

Without saying a single word, he suddenly pulled her in and Ellie felt herself pressed against his broad and firm chest, his arms already tight around her waist and the scent of cigarette mixed with the leather from his jacket and his perfume hitting her hard.

Her cheeks immediately got hotter and her heart beat faster, but she didn’t pulled out. In fact, she slowly looked up to his face, seeing his brown eyes darkened with lust searching for hers. She felt an exciting shiver running through her spine as he slowly leaned in and their mouths met.

To Ellie’s surprise, the kiss was incredibly gentle, but super hot at the same time. Damien’s lips lingered on hers, while his hands explored her body expertly, making her breath speed up. She deepened the kiss, throwing her arms around his shoulders, trying to get even more closer to him.

Suddenly, he changed their positions and Eleanor felt her back against the wall and Damien’s weight pressing her there, the warmth of his body enveloping her, his heart beating as fast as hers. Her head spinned and she felt so intoxicated by him as they tasted one another. It almost felt like the world had stopped around them.

She groaned softly when she felt his crotch hardening against her, and that was enough to make a heat pool between her legs too. Oh, she wanted him so bad.

They pulled apart when they needed some air, both feeling hot and bothered.

“Hey…” - Ellie murmured as Damien hid his face on her neck, softly sucking the smooth skin there, making her feel dizzier. She had no idea how long they’ve been making out, but she didn’t care.

“What?” - he asked, his thumb contouring the shape of her swollen, soft and delicious lips.

“What do you say we go somewhere a little more private?” - she proposed, a mischievous smirk already on her beautiful face.

The man grinned back.

“I’d like that. I want to get you alone and have you all on my own since we were in that train.” - he whispered in her ear, making her crave for him even more, if that was possible. He watched Eleanor biting her bottom lip seductively before guiding him through the people, her hand on his, their fingers intertwined.

As soon as they entered the restroom - they had no idea in which one they were, men’s or women’s, and if there were people around; they couldn’t care less - they stumbled together into the small stall, their mouths already tasting each other, their bodies eager for each other’s touch.

“Wait, wait.” - she whispered, stopping kissing Damien for a second. But it was really hard to keep her mind straight with his hands roaming all over her body like that. - “You have a condom, right?”

“Of course I have.” - he muttered back as he impatiently unfastened her tight skinny jeans.

“Well, it is always good to kno— oh…” - she moaned when his fingers found her sensitive core, underneath her clothes. She already was so wet and hot down there.

“Do you like this?” - he smirked, his forehead on hers, watching Ellie’s breath speeding up as he circled her clit. She nodded.

“Fuck me...” - she ordered before kissing him hard, in a way to contain her moans, fully aware that they shouldn’t make any sound. It all turned everything even more exciting.

Damien groaned when her cold hand found his stiff length, pumping it, her lips already on his neck, putting light and delirious kisses there. He felt himself getting dizzy.

When he couldn’t hold back anymore, he quickly fished a condom inside his wallet and put it on, while Eleanor took off her leopard print coat and hanged it on somewhere safe. She bought that coat with her own money from her internship and it wasn’t exactly cheap.

Suddenly, he turned her back to him, his hands already on the waistband of her jeans, sliding it down, along with her underwear, just enough for him to have access of her. Ellie hid her face on the stall wall, muffling a gasp when he slid inside her. Damien had to bit her neck to hold a moan as he filled her slowly, letting her and himself get used to the sensation of their bodies connecting. Fuck, she was so tight.

“Uh, fuck…” - she cursed when he started pressing forward and deeper insistently, his big hands gripping on the soft flesh of her hips. Again, it felt both tender and passionate. How could he do it? Make it feel almost gentle when they were fucking in a stall? That man was something else. - “This feels so good…”

“Shh, they’re going to hear us…” - he whispered on her ear, his hot breath against her skin. It felt so damn good inside her.

Arching her back, they moved together, gradually speeding up their pace, trying to contain their moans, their bodies tensing, craving for more. Ellie squirmed when one of his hands was back to that sensitive spot between her legs, bringing her close to the edge, until she felt like her whole body exploded in a million pieces. Damien let out a low curse, feeling her sex throbbing, her walls tightening around him, until he couldn’t handle it anymore and hit his own climax too.

“Holy shit…” - she murmured, feeling his weight pressing her against the stall wall and his arms still all around her, holding her tight.

After their breaths and heat gradually slowed down, he discarded the used condom away, they pulled up their jeans, sharing mischievous grins, and she put her coat back on. When they walked out of the stall, sharing another kiss, the restroom was empty, thankfully.

“Is that drink offer still up?” - Ellie asked him as they returned to the saloon, hand in hand.

“I won’t buy you anything alcoholic.” - Damien stated. She laughed but agreed that a soda was good enough.

As they waited for their drinks - a coke for her and another shot of rum for him -, the girl noticed that she had several texts and voicemails from her cousin.

“Where the fuck are you?! I couldn’t understand a single thing you were trying to say!” - Eleanor shouted on her phone, over the noise of the bar.

“Ellie! I am out… outside like in the back, you know?” - her cousin was talking in a slower pace. Fuck, was she drunk? Although Nadia was old enough to drink, she was such a lightweight. She could get drunk with a single beer.

“Yeah, I know, the smoking area. Are you alone?”

“No… I found this super nice dude… and his friends…” - she heard chuckles and giggles on the back.

“Alright, wait for me, I’m going there.” - Eleanor shoved the phone inside her pocket. - “I gotta go.” - she told the man standing next to her, who watched the whole exchange attentively.

“Already? Is everything okay?” - Damien asked.

“I guess. My cousin is drunk, and this means that this is my cue to go before she does something stupid.” - she put a light kiss on his cheek. - “Tonight was lovely, Mr. Detective.” - she whispered playfully on his ear before turning and walking away hurriedly.

“Ellie, wait!” - he put the money on the counter and tried to follow her, but a mosh pit started all of sudden and he almost got caught in the middle of it.

And then, the girl with the leopard print coat simply vanished in the crowd.

“Ellie!” - Nadia waved at her, surrounded by some guys. - “C’mere!” - Eleanor didn’t like the way they looked at both of them. She momentarily wished she had brought Damien with her, but she could handle them just fine.

“Nadia, it’s time to go. The last train leaves soon.” - she said, pulling her cousin closer. - “Did you smoke?” - she asked, smelling the distinctly sweet scent on her cousin’s breath.

“Hey, calm down, baby! Why the hurry?” - the long haired guy she saw earlier with Nadia said, circling them. Ellie glared at him, her hand gripping harder on Nadia’s forearm. - “Brad, give her some pot! It will make you feel all good and chill, baby!”

“No, thanks, Brad.” - she hissed, pulling her cousin out of the circle. All of the dudes seemed intimidated by her and let the girls go anyway. Thankfully all of them were too stoned to try anything. - “Did they do something to you? Did you smoke?” - Nadia giggled as she was being dragged back into the bar by her cousin.

“Juuuust a little… and, uh, it felt so amazing for a while, you know?! I felt like I could dance through the whole night…!”

“Oh my God, Nadia, you know you’re a lightweight and genuinely thought it was a good idea to smoke pot?!” - Ellie frowned disapprovingly.

She scanned the saloon, her eyes searching for a certain Mr. Detective, but he was nowhere to be seen. She mentally cursed herself; she forgot to give him her number. Maybe she would find him on Facebook or whatever later. Though he didn’t look like the type of guy who had any account on any social media. Hm, maybe on the NYPD website?

They walked out of the bar, back to the Manhattan streets.

“You worry way too much, Ellie, I feel great! Oh, do you have something to drink? My throat feels so dry!” - Nadia kept mumbling before taking a look around them, totally lost, not recognising the streets they walked through. - “Ugh, where are we going?”

“Home. If we‘re lucky, we’ll be able to take the last train.”

“Oh, okay.” - she turned to look at her cousin. - “I’ve had so much fun tonight, we should definitely do this again! And bring Allen with us next time!” - Ellie thought that it was a good idea; Allen had always been more sensible than Nadia and, if he had been there with them that night, they both would probably have been able to stop her from doing something stupid. Eleanor definitely was missing her other cousin that moment. - “Omg, he’ll be so mad when he find out how much fun we had!” - Nadia laughed hysterically for a quick second before turning to face her younger cousin. - “You had fun, right?”

“Oh, yeah.” - Ellie said as they entered the nearest subway station, unable to hide a mischievous smile as she remembered of a certain broad shouldered figure, the taste of his super kissable lips and his warmth and weight pressing her against a wall...

“Omg, I know this look! You have to tell me everything!!!”

“Later. First, let’s get you home.”

Although Damien and Ellie looked for each other after that night, both their lives turned upside down little after - he volunteered to take the case of Leon Rolph and met Alana; and around that same time, she lost her mother - and the memories of each other and that punk rock show and the bar’s restroom small stall were long forgotten from their minds.

8 years later…

Eleanor Zhou is in her bedroom, surrounded by a box filled with her memories of college times. She knows she should be helping the hired private investigator - with whom she has developed a casual relationship - in her living room, but she’s been feeling a little gloom lately with thoughts of her best friend, Lucy James, marrying that colossal misogynist asshole that is Robert Zucko. So, Ellie is looking through old pictures she took with Lucy when they were students at Hartfeld.

The woman puts the album back into the box and finds an old sketchbook. She flips the pages filled with drawings one by one - her favorite hobby back then was drawing strangers on public transport - until she stops short at a specific page, her jaw dropping open as she recognised the eyes that are staring at her.  And then, memories flow back to her mind. Memories of a small stall, punk music, kisses that tasted like nicotine and the hickey left on her neck that lasted for days.

“Holy fucking shit!” - she murmurs when she sees the handsome and (now) very known face. - “D!” - the woman jumps and sprints out of her bedroom.

Damien Nazario’s eyes scan thoughtfully Northbridge map, marking all the places where Robert Zucko seems to have a connection. The private detective was hired by Eleanor to investigate the shady pub owner and has been working on this case for a month now, but little progress has been made.

“D!” - he hears Ellie shouting, walking towards him, grinning from cheek to cheek.

“Have you found any dirt on Zucko? Any new clues?” - she stops by his side.

“Actually, no. But I found this!” - he grabs the sketchbook she extends to him.

Damien sees a portrait of himself, but years younger, with less facial hair and no dark circles under his eyes. But it definitely is him. And then, memories flow back to his mind. Memories of a small stall, noisy punk music, muffled moans and a leopard print coat.

He looks up to the woman with a wide smile on her lips standing next to him.

“Holy mother of god. You’re the girl in the rock show.” - Eleanor giggles excitedly.

“Seriously, what are the odds?! I can’t believe we actually met like, what, eight years ago?!” - she laughs as she plops down on his lap. Damien’s arms are automatically around her, although his attention still is on the sketchbook in front of them. - “I remember I kept cursing myself for a whole month for not giving you my number. I tried to locate you, but as I suspected, you didn’t have a single account on any social media! I even searched through the NYPD website, but when I found out that there were more than 50,000 employees, I gave up.” - he chuckles softly. - “To be honest, I kept waiting for you to find me somehow, since you were a detective. But you never found me and I assumed that NYPD had terrible detectives.” - he turns to look back at her.

“Hey, this isn’t fair. I’ve just had been promoted and everything I knew about you was a nickname. And how would I know that you weren’t from New York? Even detectives need more information than that.” - she laughs loudly, throwing her head backwards and her arms around his shoulders. - “And I searched for you. I looked for a punk girl and her sketchbook on every train I entered for a couple of months after that night, but I eventually gave up too. And then, I got obsessed with work.” - he frowns as he reminds of that time.

Just a few months after that brief encounter with Ellie, Damien Nazario met Alana Kusuma, and his life changed forever. And then he met Allen and Nadia and that thing with those Matches from Eros happened… that punk rock show just seemed to have happened a lifetime ago and the girl with the leopard print coat became a “whatsername”.

Eleanor notices the sudden shadow covering D’s face. Probably it has something to do with that ‘dark time’ he passed through before meeting her cousins, that Nadia had told her about.

Gently, she cups his handsome face and kisses him softly.

“Well, you found me now.” - she smirks at him. - “Seriously, I can’t believe you’re that Mr. Hot Detective guy. My mom was right, life is a crazy ride.” - he chuckles.

“Yeah, it is.” - he agrees, taking the sketchbook again and admiring his portrait one more time. Ellie snuggles closer to his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder. - “I always wondered how that drawing turned out in the end.”

“And do you like it?” - he looks back at her, a wide grin on his lips.

“A lot, yeah.” - Damien says, before leaning in and kissing her sweetly, his lips lingering on hers. And Eleanor Zhou gets the same sensation she had all those years ago when he kissed her for the first time. How it felt both tender and passionate at the same time.

“...Maybe I should make another portrait of you…” - she murmurs, feeling his big and warm hands dangerously exploring her thighs, beneath her skirt, making her heart beat slightly faster. - “Later…”

“Yeah, later. What do you say we reminisce on what we did on that stall?” - Ellie can’t hold back a laugh.

“Hell no, that thing was too small and dirty! God, the things we do when we’re young and reckless.” - Damien chuckles as she turns to face him, still sitting on his lap. - “Here is good enough.” - she grins cheesily at him, already unbuttoning his shirt. He smirks back at her.

“I guess we can take a quick break from work.”

[trashunlimited]

the complete history of julie’s development

(and some other stuff too)

i was thinking about making this post because i actually have a lot to say in regards to this?

@nightshade1994, @glampyra

so, i started watching rnm back in around may 2014, when i was still 13 years old. while the show currently has three seasons with a fourth in production, back then we only had season one, which is what most of the info surrounding julie is based on.

the character of mrs.sanchez(rick’s wife) is still elusive as hell, even more so back then. all the show really told us was:

she is no longer around for whatever reason

rick left her for an unspecified reason

which isn’t really much to go off of. but people were still making versions of her back then, and i wanted to get in it on. julie started out as a design really, nothing more, and her name was “tatiana” back then. but i decided instead to switch to an english name, and she was renamed “juliana”, or just julie for short(which is actually the french form of julia).

i ended up coming up with ideas for julie’s personality, but what really inspired me was when i was looking through a now dead rick and morty confessions blog, and someone posted a confession that they thought maybe the reason rick is so attached to morty to begin with, is because morty reminds him of his wife. both characters being shy, cute and awkward, but his wife also being this really sweet and kind person. that was basically the basis of julie’s personality that i expanded on over the years.

i still have that confession saved too

with the way mrs.sanchez is presented, it’s clear she’s dead. however, 13/14 year old me was not about that shit, and i opted to keep her alive. the explanation is she ran away to look for rick, and ended up becoming some badass bounty hunter type. i still have this pic i made back in 2014 of her bounty hunter look(pictured with rick):

my dumbass preferred her over the younger julie(because she’s cooler or whatever), and i kept her like this for a while, and for a short time, i got rid of the bounty hunter thing but still kept her alive, before coming to the tragic conclusion she had to be killed off. it fucking hurt, but it was the realistic option and i knew i had to do it.

since then, julie’s been in a continuous development, and she only has gotten better, as i’ve gotten better at character creation.

onto her design

julie was made to be conventionally attractive, i mean look at her daughter and rick

it’s clear, beth takes over rick in terms of personality, and her mother in appearance.

i made julie a redhead because it’s meant to explain where summer’s red hair comes from, both parents need to carriers of the red hair gene in order for it to pass onto the offspring...and even then...it’s really recessive, which is why only a small amount of people have it. beth carries the red hair gene from her mother, and jerry carries it from a direct relative of his.

julie has a small button nose to explain where morty’s nose shape comes from. beth’s nose shape is explained as being a combination of julie’s nose and rick’s nose, it goes down like rick’s, and is rounded like julie’s.

(reference pics i have)

her hairstyle was also made to reflect her shyness(with a whole side of her face being covered) and her femininity, as it’s long and very neat.

her outfits are also meant to properly look like outfits from the 70s, the particular decade julie comes from. these pictures of outfits from the 70s inspired julie’s:

and since julie is feminine, of course her outfits reflect this too.

julie’s design hasn’t changed drastically, i mainly just redesigned her outfits, the one she had for the longest with a violet sundress and brown boots, but i changed it because it was too plain and not 70s enough. looking back at this old traced thing i made, also back in 2014, julie’s hairstyle appears to be slightly different too. and rick’s skin was wayyy too damn light, i think i just chose a bad screenshot to take his skin colour from at the time.

i even redid julie’s elderly design, in the au where she lives, and also redid that top picture of rick and julie from years ago:

(now rick and julie are even wearing their wedding rings!) and julie looks skinny and has a younger-looking body because rick used some anti-aging serum on her. now elderly julie is a stereotypical grandma who bakes cookies and knits cute sweaters for you. where’s that damn “julie lives” au.

i redid that other picture too.

i think i should also bring up julie’s friends because they are important too.

i did mention before that the earliest version of how rick and julie met was because of julie’s friends dragging her to a bar. one of the friends wanted julie to socialize more, this became vivian, and another girl who was a party animal named hilda, who i scrapped completely. another friend of julie’s that was scrapped was sandra, who was supposed to be the friend julie could talk about “girly stuff” with. i scrapped them out of a lack of ideas.

as for mark, i wanted a character who was reasonable and julie could go to for advice, and i made him a male to balance out the three female characters. he was made a hippie because my ass couldn’t resist including one. a significant part of mark’s backstory is him being a victim of child abuse, and the inspiration for this comes a tragic place.

child abuse is a very personal thing for me, not because i was a victim of it, but because both, yes, both of my parents were victims of it themselves. they faced physical and emotional abuse growing up, and had to deal with a lot of other shit in their younger years that i won’t go into detail about. i really wanted to make a character that was a victim of abuse, and at first, it was handed over to julie, but i couldn’t bring myself to do it, and i liked the idea of a big part of why julie is the way she is because is because her parents had a very positive influence on her. so it got handed to mark instead, who i didn’t have much backstory in mind for at the time.

i can’t believe i’m saying this, but initially there was a point when there was a love triangle. look, i’ve said it multiple times but i initially created julie when i was 13/14, i didn’t know any better. when i finally realized how dumb it was, i scrapped it, along with the character in the love interest, also vying for julie’s affections, named kent. the story revolving around this was how it was for the longest time too and i’m so fucking embarrassed holy shit.

at one point, julie also had a younger brother who was named charlie(julie was born in 1951, and i think he was supposed to be born in either 1952 or 1953). he didn’t last long and was scrapped too, i didn’t want there to be a whole other side to the smith family they were either:

completely unaware of

OR

knew they existed and didn’t care about them for whatever reason

i gave charlie black hair, and to this day, the design i have in mind for julie’s mother has black hair too, i just think it looks good on her. at the end of the day, scrapping him was really good in the long run, mark and julie, who both don’t have siblings, see themselves as brother and sister, and it adds to their bond. it also reinforces julie’s loneliness, and the reason i have in mind that about julie’s innocent nature is because her parents were protective, because julie’s mother suffered a miscarriage a year after julie was born and was rendered infertile. her parents didn’t want to lose their only biological child after all.

i don’t have too much to say about vivian, she’s always been fairly constant, except she used to be a lot bitchier, but i opted to make her nicer, even if it doesn’t come off that way. i also always had the idea of her and mark being paired together, i just liked the idea of putting a character with a short-temper and a character with a mild-temper character. their relationship is more subtle than rick/julie.

once i branched away from the love triangle shit, the story needed to change, and i started out trying to incorporate the galactic federation into it. but it wasn’t very...successful...

i came up with the idea for the fyralogin empire because i thought it would make sense for the universe to have a great power before the federation replaced it. so they were represented as a dying empire on it’s last legs, struggling to hold onto power.

i don’t have too much else to say from this point on. but as you can see, julie, her friends and the story itself went through a lot before reaching their current point, and...i think it’s all for the better.

[blackkudos]

Patrik-Ian Polk

Patrik-Ian Polk (b. July 29, 1973 in Hattiesburg, Mississippi) is an American film director, producer, screenwriter, singer, and actor. Polk, who is openly gay, is noted for his films and theatre work that explore the African-American LGBT experience and relationships.

Polk made his feature film directorial debut with Punks, an independent feature that he also wrote and produced. Often described as a male Waiting to Exhale, Punks had its world premiere in January 2000 at the Sundance Film Festival. The film won several awards at festivals around the world and was released theatrically in November 2001. He also directed the film Blackbird in 2014.

Polk is also the creator of the television series Noah's Arc, which made its debut on the Logo television network in October 2005.

Education

Born in 1973 in Hattiesburg, Mississippi, Polk was interested in television and movies as a child. He attended Brandeis University, where he was the arts editor of the college newspaper. He received his undergraduate degree from the University of Southern Mississippi, then went on to study at the University of Southern California (USC) School of Cinema-Television.

Early career

Polk served briefly as a producer's assistant for Amblin Entertainment's TV series known seaQuest DSV. He was then hired to work for MTV as a development executive in the newly formed, Paramount-based film division known as MTV Films. He helped with development of many productions including Beavis and Butt-head Do America and Election. The latter, a scandalous story about a high school election starring Reese Witherspoon, was nominated for an Oscar in 1999.

Polk then began to work for Edmond's Entertainment, or E2 Filmworks. Under Tracey and Kenneth "Babyface" Edmonds, Polk worked as vice president of production and development. While at E2, he worked on films such as Soul Food (1997), Hav Plenty (1998) andLight It Up (1999). Soul Food, told through the eyes of an eleven-year-old boy, is a story about the plights of an African-American family broken by the death of their mother. The film eventually went on to be produced into a Showtime network show that turned into a series that ran for four years, becoming the longest running drama featuring a predominantly black cast.

Light It Up, which starred Usher in his first leading role, grossed $6 million in ticket sales.

TV series, Films

Noah's Arc

 (2005)

Noah's Arc started as a television series about a group of black gay friends. The show integrates issues like same-sex dating, same-sex marriage, HIV and AIDS awareness, infidelity, sexual curiosity, promiscuity, homophobia, gay bashing, and same-sex parenthood. Often considered "the gay Sex and the City", the show aired for two seasons, making 17 episodes, excluding the pilot. The series aired on the Logo cable network, and became extremely popular after its initial airing in October 2005. For a long time, the show was the network's most popular title. The 23-minute episodes take place in Los Angeles and show four gay black friends – Noah, Alex, Ricky, and Chance – dealing with everyday life through complex romantic and professional relationships.

Starring in the show were Darryl Stephens, Rodney Chester, Christian Vincent, Doug Spearman, and Jensen Atwood. A second season aired eight episodes, ending with a cliffhanger. Logo announced that the show was cancelled but, facing demand for a third season, stated that if the planned feature film was a success, the series might return. Polk said that Noah's Arc was both a "triumph and a let down". To this day, many fans still don't understand what possessed LOGO executives to cancel the show.

Punks

 (2001)

Polk's first directorial feature was Punks (2001). The movie, starring Rockmond Dunbar, Renoly Santiago, Jazzmun, and Devon Odessa, is about a group of gay African-American friends. Punks was first shown in January 2000 at the Sundance Film Festival. The film won the Black Reel Award (2002) for Best Independent Actor (Rockmond Dunbar) and the Cleveland International Film Festival's Best American Independent Feature Film. It also was chosen to open the Twenty-Fourth San Francisco International Lesbian & Gay Film Festival. It was nominated for the GLAAD Media Award and the Independent Spirit John Cassavetes Award. In November 2001,Punks was released to theatrical audiences at the Quad in New York City. This film's major themes were incorporated in Polk's later works. It had its TV premiere on Logo on August 7, 2011.

Noah's Arc: Jumping the Broom

 (2008)

Noah's Arc: Jumping the Broom was his next film, featuring Polk as director, writer, and producer. It was written in collaboration with fellow writer from the series John R. Gordon, and picks up after the cliffhanger in the second season. It is about the marriage and wedding of the main character, Noah Nicolson, and his boyfriend Wade Robinson at Martha's Vineyard. In the movie, four groups of couples struggle for identities while attending four different bachelor parties where each relationship becomes more complicated. Near the end, Noah and Wade are not helped with their last-minute jitters by the social tension.

The film was released on October 24, 2008, on a limited basis, performing at theaters in Los Angeles, New York City, Atlanta, Chicago, Palm Springs, California, and Washington, D.C. The movie showed in Ocean City, New Jersey, Detroit and San Francisco in early November. The movie then began showing at theaters in Philadelphia and Dallas in at the end of November and performed well on a per-screen basis.

Polk's film received much acclaim throughout the gay community. It received three NAACP Image Award nominations: Outstanding Independent Feature Film, Outstanding Writing in a Feature Film and Outstanding Directing in a Feature Film. It won GLAAD Award's for Best Feature Film (Limited Release), but received poor reviews. Time Out called it a "silly soaper," and Variety described it as "a lame feature" that was "blandly staged",. It received a 43% rating on the website Rotten Tomatoes.

Despite the criticism, according to IndieWire (October 27, 2008), the movie opened as number 1 on the independent film box office report. Theaters reported around-the-block lines, and even though it only played for 7 weeks in no more than seven theaters at once, taking in over $532,000 despite its low mainstream marketing support. The film cost an estimated $5 million to make and is not expected to recover those costs even with its DVD release.

The Skinny

 (2012)

In 2012, Patrik Ian Polk released the film The Skinny, in which he wrote, directed and produced. The film tells the story of five friends who are Brown University classmate s- four gay men and one lesbian - as they reunite in New York City for Gay Pride weekend, in which secrets are exposed, lies and lots of drama.

Personal life

Polk's portrayal of the gay African-American community is considered one of his best achievements. Among other things, Polk notes one experience where he was confronted by one transitioning person that they were experiencing exactly what Noah's Arc characters went through and that they were extremely grateful to him. When asked in an interview with Shei what his inspiration was to the seriesNoah's Arc, Polk replied, "I wanted to see black gay characters and there were none on TV. So I decided rather than complain about it, I'd do it myself." Polk says he was inspired by Spike Lee on television with the scene She's Gotta Have It, where there was a black face in filmmaking. He believes that people should come out and not have a secret lifestyle as it leads to lies and deception.

Polk's film, "The Skinny", debuted in spring 2012, and "Blackbird" opened in 2014.

http://wikipedia.thetimetube.com/?q=Patrik-Ian+Polk&lang=en

[misssingingintherain]

Untangling the Moral Mess of “Star Wars The Last Jedi”: Part I

AKA My thoughts on “Star Wars The Last Jedi” Activism and Representation through Race, Sexuality, and Gender Politics:

Feminism: Older Women who are not Carrie Fisher! Women of Color! Non-sexualized Asian woman who is not terribly skinny too! Women in power who don’t have to sacrifice their femininity to maintain authority! Everything seems great… until we get to Rey and/vs Kylo Ren. There is so much to unpack, I’ll be doing that in later things. For now, I feel like to pull off Rey’s change in mindset, there needed to be at least another week of interactions with her and Kylo Ren. The movie takes place over 3 days at most, and almost immediately after TFA as well. They needed more time, as exemplified in Sketches from Superheroes’ wonderful analysis found here (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=234SXSWgxLw&t=394s).

LGBTQIA issues: Once again, Finn and Poe have a great dynamic that I would love to see explored more. The supplementary material goes further than the text toward LGBTQIA representation (with Poe saving his mother’s ring for the right ‘partner’ rather than woman and Admiral Holdo being implied pansexual with her line ‘it’s a big galaxy’). However, we get to my sorest spot: Rose. I swear to god, I see one more post hating on her and I will release the full fury of the dark side on that unfortunate mother fucker.

My apologies for the brief lack of professionalism. And I understand concerns that her presence was to deter StormPilot/FinnPoe shippers. But there was always going to be another character added to the good guys to be the Lando of the team; as such, it also makes sense that she would have chemistry with Finn, as he is the Han Solo character of the new series. As for StormPilot shipping… this movie had the words “Finn. Naked. Leaking Bag” in it, so I think there is still plenty of subtext for us to enjoy, even if Disney is not yet ready for that next step, Capitalist Cowards that they are.

That brings us to the especially sore spot, AKA The Racial politics of TLJ: this one seems to have just about everyone divided.

Finn is still portrayed as a deserter in spite of having grown past this in TFA, with his storyline not having much of a ‘point’ in the movie.

Rose’s arc is nonexistent/entirely revolves around teaching a man (Finn) a lesson.

Poe is being stereotyped into a ‘hot-headed latino’ who is being talked down to by white women, who ‘the movie wants you to hate.’

All of these are valid readings.

However, I feel they are somewhat incomplete.

Finn was running to protect Rey, who he faced Kylo Ren for in TFA. It has been maybe a week since his desertion from the First Order. His arc and eventual attempted heroic sacrifice was about learning to fight for something bigger, not just fight for the few people he cared about. He probably should have had more time undercover on the ship, a longer fight with Phasma (especially that deleted scene where she guns down troopers he was convincing to defect), and more contrast between himself and Kylo Ren as duel main male characters in the series, but I’m confident he’ll get more screen time in the next movie.

As TV Tropes notes, “many [fans] were disappointed with the fact that after being built up so heavily as the Decoy Protagonist, Finn failed in his two major action scenes in the previous movie. Having him fight Phasma and giving him his own subplot seems to be an attempt to rectify this. Although it's somewhat undermined by his character being relegated to the C plot and superfluous to the main story” (http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/YMMV/TheLastJedi).

Rose had arguably the most defined arc in the movie; she is so selfless, she is the one person Leia trusts to take care of deserters. Her sister gave her life for the Resistance and Rose was willing to give her life and others’ lives as well. Only after meeting Finn does she realize that a completely selfless path is also self-destructive and there is also merit in selfishness (which also works into Poe’s theme of retreat not always being cowardly). While it could have been pulled off better, I think their scene on Crait with the speeders is sweet. Their kiss was a little odd, but it’s also John Boyega/Finn, so I get the attraction on Rose’s behalf.

Of course, the big one is Poe Dameron…

I am probably not the best person to talk about this as I am half-white and half-Asian, but I personally do not feel he is particularly out of character. First time we saw Poe in TFA, he abandoned his mission to save the villagers and shoot Kylo Ren, almost getting himself, his droid, and the map caught. He was already shown to favor all-or-nothing tactics, also evidenced by his run on Starkiller base, which had high costs due to miscalculations of how well shielded the target was. Same happens against the dreadnaught, only this time with him disobeying direct orders, as well as getting most of his men killed.

Leia, who sees him as a surrogate son as well as a future successor and therefore treats him as such, slaps him and demotes when he gets others killed in his defiance. After rightfully demoting him, he then tries to mansplain the situation to Holdo when she’s in charge and refuses to accept that he messed up and that his actions have consequences like not being privy to the plan and having to follow orders. Upon first viewing of the movie, most people side with Poe as we also don’t understand why Holdo is withholding information. But when Poe is given information, he starts throwing things on the bridge (which he was banned from) not unlike Kylo Ren and then organizes a mutiny. Yet he faces no further disciplining and learns his lesson about when you should fight and when you should flee.

The difficulty is balancing what needed to be said with the character to do it with. It is a classic trope that heroes disobey direct orders for a risky mission and when they pull it off, they face no repercussions. Was Poe the correct character to subvert this story with, as hot-blooded latino is a harmful stereotype that persists to this day? Probably not, but this is also a lesson that needed to be taught and I don’t think any of the other characters would fit in with this lesson, as it wouldn’t work as well for someone of lower or no rank like Rose or Finn or Rey.

Concerning the overall socio-political economics and the commentary surrounding it… I like the Casino scene. I didn’t at first as like many I felt it was a pointless red herring, but then I realized it was the entire point of the movie. The last scene with the slave children regaling tales of Luke Skywalker and the force sensitive one gazing at the stars with Rose’s Resistance ring wouldn’t make any sense if it had been omitted. This section got at both Rose’s theme of “It’s not just fighting what we hate, it’s saving what we love” and Poe’s theme of “we are the spark that will light the fire that will burn the first order to the ground;” in order to keep that spark going they need to save and inspire people like the slave kids, not just destroy the enemy like the First Order. That’s what makes them the heroes.

People compare this sequence to the prequels and they’re right. Because as bad as the prequels were, they were also right in some parts. War is perpetuated by the military industrial complex. The biggest threat to democracy is not necessarily outside forces like terrorists or war, but internal ones like corrupt politicians chipping away at peoples’ rights until they have none left. Perhaps if more people had listened we wouldn’t be in our current political situation. Or maybe we would. Again, I think people’s dislike of it has a lot to do with pacing and energy, as everything with the resistance feels very urgent, yet Finn and Rose spend a lot of time ogling at the rich and on this side-quest that ends up hindering more than harming.

In general, I think a lot of this backlash has to do with the fact that our heroes are extremely flawed here. Luke almost killed his nephew and then abandoned the galaxy (The Jedi Way™). Poe and Rose believe in victory at all costs, not thinking about the next fight so long as this one is won, which gets a lot of people killed. Finn is still trying to run (if for more selfless reasons this time around). Rey put her faith in a man she barely knew… twice. For the first time in a long time, we have heroes making mistakes and as leaders, they are not the only ones who pay for it, which is jarring but perhaps the most realistic part of the movie.

A main theme of this movie is gambling and the risks vs the benefits, hence the scenes on the Casino planet and the focus on the Millennium Falcon’s dice; a lot of characters gamble with their lives… and they lose. Poe/Finn/Rose arguably gamble the fate of the Resistance on DJ and lose. Holdo and Leia gamble on their small transports going unnoticed by the First Order and them having allies they can fall back on and lose. Rey gambled on both Luke coming back and Kylo Ren turning and halfway lost both times. Snoke felt invincible since he can read everybody’s thoughts before they happen and didn’t realize he was gambling with Kylo Ren until he lost. Kylo Ren gambled with his whole family and got his power but is left kneeling on the floor of an empty resistance base, clutching a pair of dice that weren’t even there.

Overall, this movie is riling both the Alt-Right and the Social Justice advocates. I personally believe it still plays more toward the latter than the former (especially with how they show the Space!Nazis to be Butt Monkeys and ineffectual toxically masculine losers), but cannot and will not discount people who take issue with these portrayals. If I have said anything that is downright racist, sexist, and/or homophobic, please tell me and I will re-evaluate my position. For now though, I feel The Last Jedi is the next step in an ever progressing galaxy.

I may do more parts of this series, focusing specifically on Finn + Rose, Leia/Holdo vs Poe, Rey vs Kylo Ren, and/or Luke, but for now, these are my thoughts. Hope they do something for untangling this complicated halfway living in a long time ago while also in a time and place very here.

Pictures are from Dichos de un Bicho and Kat Blaque’s Facebook pages.

[yourkeeperoftherunners]

Everybody Wants Her

Plot: She’s the low man on the totem pole at her radio job. He wanted to offer a hand to the nice young lady who was struggling to balance too many things at once. Once his dark eyes met hers, he was hooked.

Rating: PG (Minor language, flirting, low-key noona interest)

Characters: Chen (EXO) x Angie OC, feat. Suho, Sehun, Baekhyun, and Chanyeol (EXO), Theo OC, and Janelle OC

Notes: This was slightly inspired by my real life friend who used to work at a radio station that hosted a lot of big names for talks and interviews. I always imagined what it would be like if our favorite noona-lovers met a pretty, older girl with stunning blue eyes who was doting and motherly to everyone. Janelle is inspired by the radio personality who interviewed EXO for iHeartRadio. Angie is inspired by my friend who isn’t into K-Pop but I sense she’d still turn some of the members’ heads in real life. ;)

Happy Birthday Kim Jongdae!

Brother

Are u still breathing?

Sent 10:47 AM

Most would tell her it was a bad sign if she was communicating strictly via text with her family, despite living under the same roof as them. But she would argue otherwise – after all, this was her dream job and it was paid, unlike her previous gig at the local radio station. Her mother wasn’t a fan of her daughter working odd and long hours, often coming home to sleep as her brother was going into work. Hell, when was the last time she actually saw him face-to-face?

“Angie!”

She snapped her head up at her name and quickly pushed her chair back, looking around for the person who called her. She whipped her head around and saw it was Janelle, one of the hosts who conducted a majority of in person or on air interviews with music talent. Angie shoved her phone into her back pocket and plastered her trademark bubbly smile across her face.

“How can I help?” Angie asked as she approached the shorter girl.

Janelle waved a two page document at her and nodded over at an unoccupied interview room. “I’ve got this Korean boy band coming in 15 and I wanna make sure my questions are coherent – can you do a quick check?” Suddenly the two pager was pushed into Angie’s hands and Janelle’s became preoccupied with her large iPhone, fingers flying across the screen. “Also gonna need 9 bottles of water – scratch that, maybe grab a total of 18, half still half fizzy in case. Can you bring those to the interview room and leave them by the chairs? Oh and if everything looks okay question-wise, just leave them face down on my seat, okay? Thanks girlie!”

Angie blinked as Janelle trotted off, distracted by her phone and nodded faintly after her, trudging over to the break room to grab the waters. She greeted her co-worker Theo, who was heating up his lunch in the microwave. Her eyes closed as she caught a whiff of Italian spices and tomatoes and her mouth watered.

“Have you eaten Miss Model?” he teased her, “or are you still running on coffee and mints?”

Angie snorted as she walked to the fridge, rolling up the interview questions to stick in her back pocket before she retrieved the waters. Theo treated her like a sister but he always wondered why Angie wanted to do radio when she had such stunning features – trim hourglass physique, full caramel curls, and a startling pair of crystal blue eyes.

“You’re funny Theo,” she replied with a shake of her head. “I’m not tall or waif-like enough to model! Well, actually I did model for my friend’s fashion show, but that’s ‘cause she made her stuff to fit her body! We were similar but I’m just taller than her. Besides, being a model is overrated.”

Theo nodded as he pulled his container from the microwave, yelping as fingers touched the edge of the scalding lid. He retracted his fingers and shook his hand to cool off.

“Who’s doing the interview?”

“Janelle.”

“They seriously need to give you a shot,” Theo said with a frown. “I heard a few of your university podcasts and a past segment from your internship and you’ve got the voice for radio! Besides, I know that Janelle probably lobbied for this celebrity because she wants to check the band out! Who is it again?”

Angie bit her lip as she juggled the waters in her arms. “Um…good question! Check the questions page, left back pocket. I need to proof those too but after I set these down. I know it’s a Korean boy band but that’s all she said?”

Theo gingerly plucked the two pager from her pocket with the tips of his fingers and unrolled it, skimming the front page. “It says ‘EXO’ and there’s a note saying they’re celebrating 5 years of being together? You know what, you handle the waters, I’ll proof these – my lunch is too hot to try eating right now.”

“It’s okay,” Angie replied as she nodded at the door.

“Nah really, Ang I majored in English with Broadcast Journalism – this is my forte,” Theo insisted as he held onto the questions. “I’ll review really quick then give ‘em back to you. Interview room?”

Angie nodded and silently thanked him as she made her way over to the interview room. She tried to hide her grimace when she saw the room was dark and the door was closed. Time to do an impossible juggling act. She attempted to shift the bottles to one arm, but one, then two more slipped to the floor, one beginning to roll away.

“Please I’ll get it,” a male voice spoke up, followed by a hand that was now resting on the doorknob.

Angie looked from the fallen bottles to see the hand belonged to a young man with slightly longish brown hair, purposely tousled. Clad in an all-black ensemble with a button-down shirt and fitted slacks, he offered a sweet gummy smile as he twisted the knob and pushed the door open.

“Oh thank you,” Angie replied as she started to kneel down.

The young man beat her to it by reaching to grab the three fallen bottles before taking a few more from her arms to lighten her load.

“Aw thank you honey, but I’m okay – I’ve got this,” she protested.

He shook his head and gestured to the room with his free hand. “Ladies first.”

Angie smiled as she stepped into the room, flicking the lights on and waiting for them to kick on. Once the room was fully lit, she began heading over to the chairs and arranged a still and sparkling bottle of water by every chair. The young man entered behind her and mimicked her pattern with the bottles he was carrying.

“Thank you so much, you didn’t have to help,” Angie said once they were done. She tilted her head to get a better look at him and realized that he didn’t seem familiar to her. “Are you new here?”

The young man blinked and shook his head no, replying in broken English that he was visiting. “Here for an interview,” he said. He studied her face thoughtfully and zeroed in on her eyes.

“Are you…wearing contacts?” he asked.

Angie shook her head and offered him a small smile. She got this all the time – people were stunned to discover that her brilliant lighter colored eyes were real. She stuck out in her family, all of whom had darker hair and dark eyes.

“Nope they’re real sweetie,” she replied with a grin. “Don’t worry about it – I get that a lot. I mean, if you saw me with my brother, you’d be shocked.” She pulled out her phone and typed in the passcode before pulling up a picture of her goofing around with her older brother. She held the phone out to the young man and he did a double take.

“Wae?! Your brother?” he asked with wide eyes.

“Uh huh! Biggest dork you’ll ever meet – such a movie nerd too. Guess that’s why he’s at Universal though,” she replied with a shrug. She replaced her phone and froze when she remembered the questions. Shoot – Theo!

“OH! I need to get the interview questions for that Korean band – sorry to leave you sweetie! I hope the interview goes well!” Angie blurted out as she made a mad dash for the door, craning her neck for her co-worker.

“Seriously hyung? Blue eyes? Like Miranda Kerr’s?” Sehun asked him as they filed into their seats. “You sure it wasn’t Miranda?”

Chen shook his head and explained that the girl he saw was prettier than Miranda. It didn’t hurt that she called him ‘sweetie’ and ‘honey’ in a doting way. But it seemed like she really didn’t know who he was or who EXO was. Rare but not uncommon for where they were currently interviewing – the US had a decent fan base but not everyone recognized who they were. Both a curse and a blessing all at once.

“Older or younger?” Baekhyun asked him, intrigued by the mystery girl they were discussing.

Chen bit his lip as he recalled her features. He wasn’t 100% sure, but he had a gut feeling that she was older than him. Not too much older – a few years give or take. Secretly, he hoped she would be back to interview them. At the sound of the door opening, he turned his head with the rest of the band and tried to hide his disappointment at seeing the shorter, warmer skinned girl entering with an oversized bomber jacket and black skinny jeans.

“Hey you guys!” Janelle exclaimed as she made her way over to them. She glanced over at the camera guy to make sure everything was all set on his end, receiving a thumbs up from the other side. She walked over to her seat and began the interview.

Suho took over most of the interview, answering as best as he could in English. The rest glanced over at their translator standing off to the side and watched Janelle talk, arms waving around enthusiastically. Chen fought the urge to laugh at Baek and Chanyeol, who were starting to mimic her movements in a joking manner. Deep down, he was impatient – when was this going to be over? He wanted to find the sweet blue-eyed girl and ask her if she was okay. She seemed stressed when he encountered her – maybe it was because of his band’s interview?

The interview breezed by and Janelle closed out the segment before signaling to the camera guy to cut. She went around and shook hands with all of the members. Crew members entered and began breaking down the lights and camera and the band began to step off to the side. Chen watched as Janelle flagged down one of the individuals folding the chairs and pointed to the questions.

“Is this your handwriting Theo?” she asked him.

“Yeah, I caught Angie in the break room trying to do a juggling act with waters and the questions – I offered to proof them while she set up refreshments,” Theo admitted with a shrug. “I wanted to – my English major sense was tingling to do revisions!”

Sehun snickered as he watched Theo’s exaggerated explanation and Chen watched as the pair talked. The maknae nudged the translator and asked him to tell him what they were saying.

“Sehunnie!” Suho scolded him.

“I want to know hyung! He said something funny and I want to laugh at whatever it was!” Sehun whined.

The translator explained what was discussed between Theo and Janelle and Chen perked up when he heard that this guy was helping out a girl named Angie. Angie. Was that the same girl he met?”

Chen walked over to the pair and allowed a polite smile to cross his lips. The pair stopped talking and flashed him smiles in return.

“You have a question?” Janelle asked slowly.

“Who is Angie?” Chen asked.

Janelle blinked at his question and at first Chen worried that maybe his pronunciation was poor. Aish, maybe he should have practiced more like Suho did on the flight over. Theo stepped closer and pointed in the direction of the office cubicles.

“That cube in the far right – light brown curly hair, model physique, and bright blue eyes. Can’t miss her – she’s really nice,” Theo replied with a knowing grin.

“Aish, why are all of you coming with me?” Chen whined as he wove his way through the rows of cubicles. He brought the translator along but he didn’t account for Sehun, Chanyeol, and Baekhyun to accompany him while trying to find Angie.

“You said she’s prettier than Miranda Kerr – I want to see for myself!” Sehun argued with a smug smile.

“Yah and that guy said she’s like a model so I wanna see the pretty model working in radio!” Baekhyun added.

Chen slumped his shoulders as he neared her office, peeking his head to see if she was there.

“May I – OH! Hi honey, how’d the interview go?” Angie asked as she whirled around in her chair. She rose from it and walked closer to him, a hopeful look on her face.

Sehun walked around Chen and blinked, eyes wide when he saw Angie. He nudged Chen in the arm persistently as he looked from her to Chen. “Hyung, you said ‘pretty’ not beautiful! She’s beautiful!”

Baekhyun and Chanyeol walked around the pair and reacted similarly, playfully nudging one another and voicing their reactions to each other in Korean. “Whoaaaaa!! Ahh those eyes are amazing!” the former cried out as he leaned closer to get a better look.

Chanyeol blushed and covered his face with his hands, mumbling that he was too shy to look at her.

Meanwhile, Angie looked at the quartet blocking her office entrance with confusion and amusement. The translator introduced himself once he wedged himself between the four young men and explained that Chen was looking for her and the others tagged along to meet her.

“Oh I’m not that special, just the newbie working here,” Angie replied with a slight shrug of her shoulders. She frowned as she stared at the four. “Hang on, are you from the band that Janelle was supposed to interview? She never told me the name, only that it was a boy band from Korea.”

“Wae?! You don’t know EXO?” Baekhyun asked.

“Um no, sorry,” Angie replied. “But you must be super talented to be around for 5 years! It seems like you’re all pretty nice too – well I know this guy’s a sweetheart ‘cause he helped my dumb clumsy ass with setup and he didn’t have to.” She gestured to Chen when she spoke and he couldn’t help but smile widely.

“Noona?” Baekhyun asked with a curious look.

“I’m sorry? What’s that mean?” Angie asked.

“He wants to know if you’re older than him,” the translator explained. “What year were you born?”

“Oh! Um, 1990,” Angie replied. “Oh but you don’t need to call me anything special, just Angie or ‘hey you!’ works.”

The translator relayed this back to the quartet and Baek’s smile widened. “NOONA!” he blurted out with a huge smile. Sehun smiled cutely when he heard she was older and Chen allowed a faint smile to cross his lips, eyes meeting Angie’s.

“They’re insisting on calling you noona,” the translator said, “it’s a polite term for a younger male to address a female in Korea. It’s a good thing.”

“Oh I see,” Angie replied, nodding.

“There you are! We should get going – they have work to do and we don’t want to disturb them,” Suho spoke up as he approached the group. He stuck his head around the corner of Angie’s cubicle and shot her a sheepish smile before apologizing and shepherding the others away, save for Chen.

“Waeeee? But we haven’t gotten to know the pretty noona!” Baekhyun whined with a pout.

“Hyung please a few more minutes?” Sehun begged, attempting to use aegyo on the leader.

“I don’t wanna keep you if you’ve gotta be somewhere else,” Angie said as she shifted her weight to her other foot.

“Guys, we should go – besides Suho-hyung will need help with directions to our hotel, unless you want to get lost!” Chanyeol teased as he nodded at the leader.

“Ah Chanyeol-ah, why…?” Suho wailed, a horrified look on his face.

“Ah hyung is right – Suho-hyung will probably be lost if we don’t check directions,” Sehun sighed as he began unlocking his phone. He nudged Baekhyun to follow the older member and Chanyeol exchanged a look with Chen before following.

Suho glanced back at Chen with a quick wink before he followed the group, complaining quietly about Chanyeol’s accusation regarding his poor sense of direction. Chen turned back to Angie and shyly stared at her.

“I thought…you’d be interviewing us,” he said in English. “I was sad because I wanted to see you again.”

Angie stared back with an endearing expression on her face before stepping closer and giving him a hug. He was caught off guard by the gesture but quickly slipped his arms around her to reciprocate the hug.  

“Aww honey no need to be sad! Janelle took good care of you guys, I’m sure,” she said. “It’s gonna be a while before they let me do what she does. But I’m glad we met today.”

“Sa-same here,” Chen replied. “Hey can I, can I grab a cup of coffee with you?”

Angie stared back as she pulled away from him and looked around for a few moments. “Who me? Um yes! Well, only if you’re not busy! ‘Cause I don’t wanna keep you, like I said!”

Chen waved away her concerned comment and crossed his arms over his chest. “Chanyeol wasn’t kidding when he said Suho has a terrible sense of direction. It might be a while before he figures out the directions to our hotel. Think that’s plenty of time to get a cup of coffee.” He waited for the translator to share this in English and Angie shot him a sympathetic look.

“It’s a confusing town – take a wrong turn and you’re lost or trapped in traffic,” she admitted. “I know a place that we can walk to – less than a minute away. They make a mean unicorn hot chocolate drink if that’s your thing.”

“Unicorn…what?”

“Ooh! They don’t have that in Korea? Oh well then I have to take you to get one then!” Angie bubbled with a goofy grin on her face. She dug around in her cabinet for her purse and slung it over her shoulder. “Let’s go…ah I’m an idiot, I never asked for your name! I’m so sorry! What is it sweetie?”

“Chen,” he said, “but ‘sweetie’ or ‘honey’ is okay too. Can I call you Angie-noona?”

“I mean, if you want but just Angie works for me,” she said as she stepped out of her cubicle.

“Then I’ll call you Angie-noona.”

[mst3kproject]

1108: The Loves of Hercules

I kinda miss the shorts and the black and white films in the new series, but I was happy to see a Hercules movie in the lineup! It feels like MST3K getting back to its roots.  This is a particularly awful Hercules movie, too, short on feats of strength and long on romantic melodrama – and never once does Herc bend prison bars or pretend to drink a love potion!  Get with the program, movie.  Along with napping, those are his defining acts!

An encampment of some sort is attacked by the Ecalian army, who proceed to slaughter everybody there including Hercules' wife Megara.  Hercules naturally goes looking to have a few words with the King of Ecalia about this, but when he arrives at the city he learns that the man is already dead.  If he wants vengeance, it will have to be against the king's daughter, Deianira.  Obviously Herc's not gonna take revenge against a girl for something she didn't even do – instead, he immediately falls in love with her, only to learn a few days later that she's already promised to a man named Achillo.

Herc leaves Ecalia in a huff, and after slaying a hydra even cheaper than the dragon in The Magic Sword, he arrives in the land of the Amazons.  Their queen, Hippolyta, drinks a potion that makes her look like Deianira in order to win Hercules' heart.  He is surprisingly okay with this, and fully prepared to stay with her until she gets sick of him and turns him into a tree... but then he learns that the real Deianira is about to be forced to marry her father's killer.

Meanwhile, I'm sitting here going, “Megara?  The redhead who died in the opening scene?  Remember her?  Anybody?”  Apparently not.

When a female character is killed off so that her death can spur a male character to action, this is colloquially known as 'fridging', after the time Alexandra DeWitt was killed and stuffed into a fridge just to piss off her boyfriend, Green Lantern Kyle Rayner.  Among non-hack writers it is generally frowned upon as both sexist (implying that women's lives are important only insofar as they matter to men) and lazy (there are better, less cliché ways to motivate your character).  This movie's treatment of Megara is one of the purest examples I've ever seen.  She is introduced only so that she can be killed, and killed only to make Hercules go to Ecalia, where he promptly forgets all about her when he meets Deianira.  Megara has served her entire purpose in the first couple of minutes, and is never mentioned again.  One wonders why they bothered paying an actress to play the part.  If she's gonna be that irrelevant, why even show her on screen?

This movie claims be be about The Loves of Hercules, but the fact that it forgets about Megara the moment Hercules meets Deianira makes it seem doubtful that he actually loves either of them. If Megara were so dear to him, surely he would grieve for her a while, rather than immediately wanting to run off with her killer's daughter.  And if he didn't love Megara, to whom he had apparently been married for some time, why should we believe he loves Deianira? He barely knows Deianira... it seems like there's a lot more lust going on there than love, especially when he's so willing to accept Deianira's double in Hippolyta.  We get a Hercules who seems to blunder from woman to woman without a lasting attachment to any of them.

This is the biggest problem with The Loves of Hercules, but it's a long way from the only one.  There's also Mickey Hargitay. I've seen Mickey Hargitay in a couple of films before – besides this one, he was the detective in Lady Frankenstein and Anderson in Bloody Pit of Horror (god, I've seen a lot of terrible movies).  I kind of want to say he was better in those, but now that I think about it I'm pretty sure he was dubbed in both so it's actually quite hard to gague his performance. It's better than in the non-MST3K Loves of Hercules I watched, which was a re-dub in which all the characters were stoic and British.  He does a lot of Dull Surprise™ and postures like he's in a silent film.  His 'feats of strength' do not communicate impressive power – he just looks like a guy struggling to balance a prop tree.

Nor does it help that in comparison with Steve Reeves and Alan Steele, he makes for a relatively skinny and baby-faced Hercules.  Hargitay was 1955's Mr. Universe, and he's certainly in admirable shape, but he's just not up to 'demigod' levels.  He looks like the Hercules Ryan Gosling would have grown up into.  Apparently Hargitay got the role because the studio wanted Jayne Mansfield, and she would only agree to be in the movie if Hargitay, her husband, played Hercules.

Then there's the monsters.  Amusingly crummy monsters are stock-in-trade for a Hercules movie, usually realized by people in ridiculous costumes.  The Loves of Hercules is rather ambitious here.  Rather than giving us a distinctly un-threatening lion or a guy in a lizard-man suit who clearly can't see anything, we get a full-scale three-headed dragon standing in for the Lernaean Hydra!  It is significantly uglier and less mobile than its Russian cousin in The Sword and the Dragon, and looks kind of like one of the animatronics from Disney's Jungle Cruise ride.  It's laugh-out-loud obvious how careful the actors are being not to damage it.

These movies are never very faithful to the source material, so it shouldn't bother me that their 'hydra' bears only the faintest resemblance to its mythological inspiration... but it does.  The hydra is my favourite of Hercules' twelve labors – it's some kind of reptilian monster that Hercules tried to defeat by cutting off its head, only to find that multiple (usually three) heads grew back from each stump.  This makes it an excellent metaphor for a problem that needs to be addressed at its source rather than just having its symptoms brushed under the rug, but it also serves to make a point that most of these movies ignore: Hercules isn't stupid.

The hydra was a monster Hercules could not defeat by brute strength alone – he had to use his strength in a smart way.  In the myth, he burned the neck stumps so that they couldn't heal, then dipped his arrows in the hydra's venom to make them extra-deadly to all the monsters he'd have to fight later.  The Disney version actually kept the spirit of this idea even as they changed the ending.  Without a torch on hand, Hercules instead brings down a cliff on top of the hydra, trapping it under tons of rock that he can escape from, but it can't.  This is sort of the inverse of my point from a few reviews back about brains and hands: brains aren't much good without strength to do the work, but strength also isn't much good without a brain to direct it.  By making the hydra a creature Hercules can just stab to death, the episode loses all its meaning.

A lot is also lost from our impression of Hercules' intelligence, which wasn't exactly riding high anyway after he seems unable to remember more than one woman at a time.

Finally, of course, there's The Loves of Hercules' other monster and supreme What The Fuck moment, the Totally Random Sasquatch.  It was only on the second viewing that I realized this was supposed to be the 'monster Alcyone' the peasants mentioned rustling their cattle.  When describing him to Hercules and Deianira before the stampede, they call Alcyone a thief before they call him a monster, and use the word 'monster' in such a way that it seems like a metaphorical description of a human thug, rather than a literal one of Bigfoot.  With the cattle stampede and everything that follows to distract me, I'd forgotten all about Alcyone by the time we actually met him, and the sudden arrival of an ape-man seemed to come completely out of the blue.

In fact, even after realizing the connection, this is a weird, weird moment.  What is Alcyone even supposed to be?  The closest thing I can come up with to Bigfoot in standard Greek mythology is a satyr, but Alcyone is even less satyr-like than Torgo.  The writer Hanno the Navigator referred to a tribe of savage ape-men who supposedly lived around Sierra Leone, which he says the natives called gorillai (yes, this is where we get the word), but that's a long way from Greece and the story is fairly obscure.  As far as I can tell, Alcyone is exactly what Jonah and the bots first took him for: a totally random Sasquatch.  Between him, Cry Wilderness, Om the Caveman, and Gulfax the Poodle-Wookiee, I think we can officially dub Season 11 the Bigfoot Season.

As long as I'm here, 'Alcyone' is a girl's name in Greek.  It refers to a type of bird.

The Loves of Hercules is pretty competently made in most respects.  Even with some of the shortcomings in the casting, acting, and effects, it could have fallen into the 'hokey but charming' category, if only it hadn't forgotten about Megara.  The way she simply ceases to exist, as if women are like shirts and you can just pick a new one when you lose the old (or something similar if the one you originally wanted is no longer available), gives a very poor impression of both Hercules and the writers and makes it difficult to really get into the romances that follow.  In a film about the loves of Hercules, that's a fatal mistake.