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threewaysdivided · 11 months ago

Note

awwww 😭😭😭😭

Did you write a review on the legendary teen Titans series? (Aka what young Justice could have become if they weren't overly ambitious)

What's your opinion on Paul Dini as a writer?

(Follow up to these two previous asks)

Sorry nonnie! 😅

It seems that we both tripped down a rabbit hole of doughnuts.

youtube

I assume you’re talking about the Teen Titans 2003 Animated TV Series? In that case, you might be thinking of another user – I haven’t personally written any reviews for it. I do have a lot of fond feelings towards the show, though; it was my first real introduction to DC Comics alongside the Justice League/ JLU animated series. My Tumblr has a Teen Titans tag where I share art, meta etc. and I do have some thoughts about specific plots or narrative elements – you might also see me make occasional reference to it as an example on some posts in the writing advice tag.

Just for the sake of expectation management, I should explain that my Tumblr isn’t really a traditional “review blog”. And yes, I know that probably sounds a bit crazy considering the frankly unhinged amount of YJ analysis I’ve written, especially since I’ve been blogging less about other stories in the last year. Burnout, what can you do?

Really I’m more of a writing/ story-analysis blog. Sometimes I might write a semi-review style post where I try to break down and articulate a particular technique/ element/ execution/ implication of a narrative in order to understand what it’s doing well or why something isn’t working. As I said in the very first Frustrations with YJ essay, I think storytelling is fundamentally about communication and understanding. I got into fandom as a fan-reader turned fan-writer (AO3 wink wink), and before that I worked as a casual English tutor. I want to learn from the ways different narratives succeeded or failed at communicating their stories within the restrictions of their medium(s) so that I can better find, discuss and even tell stories myself.

Because of that, I’m also a big proponent of the Death of the Author approach to media analysis. Let me copy the definition over from that first essay real quick:

DEATH OF THE AUTHOR This theory posits that, because commercial art is created to be consumed, not just created, the audience’s interpretations of a work should be considered as just valid as the creator’s. The work must stand on its own and creators cannot micro-manage their audience’s response to it. 1. A creator’s intentions and biographical facts (political stances, religion, etc) should hold no special weight in determining the validity of an interpretation. 2. Save for re-releases/reboots or new entries, the creator cannot and should not attempt to retroactively insert information or interpretations that were not present in the original text.

I generally don’t look too deeply into or follow the specific people behind (non-fan) works. This isn’t always the case – if I like a specific author’s style I might look up their body of work to read more; some stories are clearly rooted in their creators’ specific opinions or experiences, which makes for interesting context; and sometimes I like to learn about the behind-the-scenes methods/techniques/production woes of a bringing a specific story to life – but mostly I put the priority on what I can learn from the final product.

As I’ve said before, commercial storytelling is the result of more than just one person. Under the right conditions I think a rank amateur or complete hack could produce something amazing and, if faced with enough production headaches, a usually-excellent creator could end up outputting utter drek although I expect that drek would at least be creatively interesting.

The questions that interest me more are: what was this narrative trying to communicate? what techniques were used/ creative choices were made? how well did it succeed? could a different approach have been used? and, what restrictions/limitations/priorities could have led to the final creative decisions? To me, information on a creator’s circumstances provide context for narrative analysis. Since I generally don’t know them I try not to postulate their actual intent too much, only the potential intent suggested by the story.

SO WHAT THE HECK WAS I DOING WITH YJ, THEN? What happened with Young Justice is actually an outlier for me in both regards because of how baffling flawed the series ended up being. Back in the pre-revival days I paid a lot of attention to the textual canon of Season 1 because I had started writing a fanfic based on it and wanted to do the story justice (heh). The result was I went into the later seasons with a lot more awareness of the canonical details and storytelling techniques – and (like I said in the final Invasion case-study) I ended up being blindsided by how instinctively bored and annoyed I became just a short way into an attempted Season 2 rewatch, despite the fact that I was actively trying to study it.

The reason I kept coming back with more and more posts is that I never felt like I had successfully grasped or articulated why I had such a strong and unexpected negative reaction. I think it’s a similar impulse to what Dan Olson cited as making the Nostalgia Critic’s Parody of The Wall so weirdly compelling: there's a confusing contradiction between the level of work required to implement the sheer amount of stuff that Young Justice tries to include, and the absolute thoughtlessness of how sloppily that stuff was actually executed. A multi-season, multimedia story like Young Justice is a long-term project: there are too many layers of production involved for the end result to be made in a brief flash of impulse or accident. It needs some sort of sustained creative motivation to drive it… but I could never find a coherent creative intent that would satisfyingly explain the decisions on display. Never before or since have I seen such a promising launch be followed by sequels so fatally flawed as to strip away every component of the original’s creative identity. There’s a reason I subtitled that masterpost A Massive Failure of Narrative.

This is also why I went after lead-showrunner Greg Weisman a bit, despite not usually doing that. The choice to exclude (or consciously excise) over 70% of the critical narrative substance and sequester it away in non-textual social-media /ask-blog retcons means that you cannot escape engaging with Weisman when trying to engage with the later seasons at any level of depth. As a Death of the Author proponent this ticked me off just on-its-face, but it also meant that he and those seasons are inseparably intertwined. Regardless of whether it was a conscious choice arising from his sense of creative entitlement, or simply a case of narrative incompetence self-selecting for a primary audience with a high tolerance for media-illiteracy Nigerian Prince Email Scam-style, the end-result is the same: Weisman gouged holes his narrative and left it to suffocate while he sucked up all the oxygen in the room. Then, later, as I encountered people from other fandoms whose narratives had been similarly decimated by Weisman, it became impossible to ignore how inseparable his personal flaws are from those narrative failures. As I alluded to in the last ask, you can separate the original seven Harry Potter texts from their author: Joanne Rowling and her politics could evaporate tomorrow and it wouldn’t change people’s ability to enjoy the story as a standalone work (in fact, the absence of her modern politics might make some of the more unpalatable flaws easier to accept as honest oversights rather than ominous foreshadowing). Meanwhile, Young Justice is such a disaster because the later seasons stop being about the original story and increasingly become about Greg: his failures at basic storytelling, his disinterested misunderstanding of his own characters, his weird fixations, his patterns of reactionary prejudice, casual double-standards, deeply disturbing attitudes about consent and power, and a self-righteous entitlement that resents being held accountable. Unlike Harry Potter, you can’t put Young Justice S2+ in a bubble. The problem at the root of every other problem with Young Justice is that it doesn’t have an actual narrative... and in the absence of a coherent central narrative, the text itself has become the story of Greg Weisman's terrible creative choices. His self-indulgent proclivities pervade every step of the later seasons' broken theming, bad pacing, warped characterisation, contradictory lore, intra-textual hypocrisies, over-stuffed cast and weird fanservice: baked-in at a level that cannot be ignored or rationalised away.

It makes me empathise a lot with how Hbomberguy said he felt on discovering the recent James Somerton stuff: it’s not fun to stumble down a rabbit hole of learning that a prominent figure in one of your communities is sucking up air via association with work from their less-credited colleagues, then using that air to present themselves as an ally, dominate the narrative and delegitimise valid criticism, all while spreading their own prejudiced agendas, refusing to change their behaviour and continuing to profit. That’s why I felt the need to explicitly point out some of the clearer patterns of reactionary bigotry and hypocritical non-apologies in Weisman’s work – I wanted to make sure the evidence was at least available somewhere outside of Weisman’s carefully-filtered reputation-protecting PR statements. People put pieces of their lives into communicating something that will hopefully be worth the pieces of life their audiences invest in return - I find the idea of someone exploiting that trust for gain to be deeply disgusting.

Now, with that exceptionally-overlong context provided: Paul Dini.

The disappointing but predictable answer is that I don’t really have an opinion on him as a writer. Having looked up his credits, I recognise a lot of works that I personally enjoyed (including the cancelled-after-one-season Tower Prep).

I really like Batman: The Animated Series, both for the human element it brought to heroism and the tone it set for the following DCAU (colloquially Timm-verse) generation of animated series. Justice League was one of my first introductions to the main DC roster, so that set a lot of my core understanding of their characters. I find Harley Quinn, especially her early B:TAS/ DCAU story-iterations, to be compelling in a way that’s equal parts fun and tragic. There are some parts of the DCAU that I find a bit silly (a couple of background ‘ships that make me go whaa?) but I think I was really lucky to grow up during a time when the DCAU and second-order series inspired by its tone and storytelling ethos (e.g. Teen Titans 2003) was the childhood DC experience for kids my age.

That said, I don’t know enough about the story behind the works in Dini’s credits to feel confident in speaking about him as a writer. Just looking at his resume, he certainly seems like a passionate and prolific creator who did a lot of very influential work. At the same time, however, I don’t know how much of that was Dini himself, how much was his frequent co-creator, Bruce Timm, and how much his works may have been adulterated by the influence of other, less-visible members of the production and editorial teams who worked alongside him. It can be convenient to elevate one or two prominent members to Great Man status as an easy shorthand for discussing works they’ve been involved with, but that can come with the risk of crediting or platforming the wrong people through mis-attribution or just plain projection.

I’ve learned my lesson on blind-lionisation after being thoroughly let down by all the Weisman nonsense, the same way others have learned from being let down by creators they previously idolised (Supergeekmike did a really good video covering this which also includes discussions of Death of the Author and Authorial Intent). Without doing proper research into and comparisons of Dini’s work, I wouldn’t feel confident making an assertion about his personal skills as a creator. I greatly enjoy many of the stories he’s been credited on, and can recognise the influence those stories had in shaping a generation of DC fans (and writers)… but while I’m happy to talk about the writing of those stories, it feels a little irresponsible of me to talk to the character or intent of a real person without knowing more about them. I’m not making that mistake again.

In the meantime though, I do want to talk more about actual writing. I’ve been taking it easier this year lockdown and job burnouts finally caught up to me and it suuucks, man but I'm hoping to pick back up in 2024. I want to finally get back to working on my main fanfic so I can share the companion meta without spoiling people. I have thoughts about some possible meta-textual metaphors in Across the Spider-verse. I might do a case-study piece exploring why the years-long timeskip in Arcane Season 1 worked really well while others haven’t. And there’s an ask about a canon-divergent-post-Season-1 Young Justice episode premise that’s been burning a hole in my inbox for at least 5 months now.

So yeah. More writing breakdowns to come. In the meantime, I previously wrote a Frustrations With analysis of how My Hero Academia’s story struggled following the Hideout Raid Arc if you’d like to check that one out. There’s also this big compilation of links to my Young Justice and Danny Phantom meta (plus recommendations for fanfics and other stories), and you can check out the writing advice tag for general storytelling discussions.

Hopefully that makes up for the drought of Teen Titans content!

#I feel like I might've served you another doughnut a bit here nonnie :(#I hope the universe gives you an actual free doughnut to make up for it #on reviewing #on writing analysis #on lionising creators #Paul Dini #DC Comics #Greg Weisman #Young Justice #Young Justice Animated #My YJ critiques are a decent representation of my analytical approach #but actually not a very good representation of the priorities of my blog #(pssst please read the Invasion one it's super-long but I worked really hard on it)#TFW a series you used to like goes so bad that it derails your entire blog for 3 years straight... *sigh*#anonymous #3WD answers

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excusethequality · 6 months ago

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My 2024 in Film: March, part. 2

I keep pulling open this draft, making a couple changes, then getting cold feet and deciding to finish it later. But not anymore...

I'm gonna finish it right now, goshdarnit!

It would appear that in the back half of March I was watching some really random shit. So I feel compelled to mention that if you see me watching a large string of movies that make you question my sense of taste as a whole, it's usually a sign.

When I'm working on projects like drawing, or editing images to make stupid jokes, or inputting data into lists, I like to put on a little movie to help me stay on task.

Since I do need to pay attention to what I'm doing as well, I'll usually put on something I've seen before, or something a little silly that I know won't demand 100% of my attention, lest I miss any subtle nuance or stunning cinematography.

Similarly I also put them on when I'm having trouble sleeping, because when you're sleepy but not sleeping your brain can't keep up with the big league players and needs something simple.

So while I do watch weird and obscure movies for fun and sport, I'm not just living in the sewer. There's some good things in here too, I swear!

In other news, while I tag my original posts, I feel like I should also have a specific tag to use for these movie lists. So if you have a good suggestion of something fun to use as a tag for them, let me know.

And with that shopkeeping out of the way: onto the movies!

* = rewatches

58.

Wishmaster

(1997)

— Fantasy Horror Directed by: Robert Kurtzman

An appraiser accidentally releases a Djinn trapped in a gemstone. If she wants to be free of its terror she's going to have to find a way to beat it at its game before it can force her to make three wishes, freeing itself to destroy the world.

I'm pretty sure I have never seen this before, BUT a friend did once tell me the plot and have me watch the opening scene. So for a brief bit after I started it had me wondering.

To my friend's credit the opening scene is truly something. They just unleashed the practical effects team and seemingly told them to make whatever weird shit they could think of. If I remember anything from this movie years from now, it'll probably just be that scene.

The rest of the movie is not nearly as epic, but it has it's moments.

File this under ridiculous movies to watch with friends.

59.

Wishmaster 2: Evil Never Dies

(1999)

— Direct-to-video Fantasy Horror Sequel Directed by: Jack Sholder

A robber steals the Djinn's gemstone and now... That's right! If she wants to be free of its terror she's going to have to find a way to beat it at its game before it can force her to make three wishes, etc, etc.

A fair bit worse than the first one. It has some fun and wacky moments though.

Even more so than the first, it's not something I'd recommend watching without a friend to laugh at it with.

60.

Wishmaster 3: Beyond the Gates of Hell

(2001)

— Direct-to-video Fantasy Horror Sequel Directed by: Chris Angel

A college student comes across a Djinn trapped in a gemstone and, well, you know the rest.

In case you were wondering, yes, there does come a time when I regret going down certain movie rabbit holes.

For the Wishmaster movies, this was the point that I knew I made a terrible mistake. Especially since I knew I was going to have to watch the next one. Because I just can't bring myself to quit when I'm so close to the finish line! I've gotta finish the series off, right?

Are the first two movies great? Not especially.

But they have their own weird charm.

To be specific they have two things going for them: Andrew Divoff's oddly weird yet memorable performance as the Djinn, and the spectacle of the crazy wish granting.

This movie has neither of those things.

I'm not even sure that the filmmakers are aware of what an ironic wish even is, because so many of the wishes don't even make sense. Add that with the fact that they have no budget to speak of resulted in even the wishes being dull.

I will give it this, while I'm pretty sure I'll forget most everything about this movie by the end of year, there's one part that I can't unsee. At one point the protagonist makes a wish so absolutely bonkers that I had to pause the movie and walk away from it for a few minutes to digest what just happened.

61.

Wishmaster: The Prophecy Fulfilled

(2002)

—Direct-to-video Fantasy Horror Sequel Directed by: Chris Angel

A woman comes into possession of a gemstone housing a Djinn. But what happens if her third wish is something the Djinn can't grant?

I'll say this about it: Michael Trucco is a way better actor than the dude they got for 3. He's still not up to par with the original guy, but significantly better than the previous one.

I don't even know anymore. I think it's better than 3? But mostly because it's just profoundly weirder? Like, I don't wanna do spoilers or anything, but it's a weird idea for a plot that somehow gets weirder as it goes on.

But it's the same director as 3 and I believe they were filmed immediately after one another, so don't expect it to be too different.

Also if all the Djinn need to do is grant someone three wishes to free themselves, then why do they do this monkeypaw shit at all? When you fuck someone over right out of the gate it makes them significantly less inclined to make more wishes. Just grant the people their stupid whims, then destroy the world or whatever, you dummies. No wonder you got your dumb ass trapped in a stone.

62.

Freaky

(2020)

— Slasher Comedy Directed by: Christopher Landon

A serial killer's attempt to kill a high schooler goes terribly wrong when they wind up switching bodies instead.

A movie I was excited to see, but never got around to because it came out during COVID. I'm a big fan of the director's previous movie (Happy Death Day) so I had high hopes for this.

I dunno, it's fun. It's nothing I'd write home about, but if I had seen it in the theater I wouldn't have left with any regrets. It definitely relies more on performances than plot. But both Kathryn Newton and Vince Vaughn are doing a great job. It's a fun premise competently done.

Also, was my high school just poor or do most high schools not have cryo-freezing gym pods? Because that part confused the hell out of me.

63.

Magic

(1978)

— Thriller Directed by: Richard Attenborough Based on: Magic by. William Goldman

A magician turned ventriloquist on the verge of a big break has a breakdown and must figure out if a life with the dummy is what he really wants.

This movie has a bonkers cast: Anthony Hopkins, Burgess Meredith, and Ann Margaret? Obviously I had to watch that.

It's kind of exactly what you'd expect from a thriller about a ventriloquist dummy? Apparently it had a theatrical release, but it has serious made-for-tv vibes. I mean, it's hitting all the beats on the made-for-tv checklist.

Small cast of big-name actors whose names will catch a viewer's attention? Check.

Limited set locations? The vast majority of the movie takes place at a remote cabin, so definite check.

Based on a book? Check. Made-for-tv things LOVE being based on books. It's easier to adapt than create fresh, and you get name recognition from the book to entice more viewers.

I was gonna say it had a low budget, but apparently it actually had a pretty decent one. I don't know where it all went, but I'm gonna assume the majority went to getting those actors.

I don't think I'd recommend it to anyone who's not a film nerd though. It's fun seeing such big time actors in roles likes these, but I can't say the plot is anything to write home about.

64.*

Mad Max: Fury Road

(2015)

— Post Apocalyptic Action Adventure Directed by: George Miller

A man on the run from his past and a woman with her eyes on the future must team up in order to escape an evil warlord.

I was just watching this at home, but if you've never seen it before and you come across a chance to see it on the big screen? Take it. It's a movie that thrives on the big screen.

I was never big on the Mad Max franchise, but my gosh, this movie just goes so hard.

The effects and cinematography are top notch. And unlike so many action movies, it actually has a great story and really interesting characters.

Plus can we talk about Charlize Theron? She's so good! I know this surprises no one—because she's always good—but the emotional weight she brings to the movie is what really takes it into the upper echelon.

65.

Hell Comes to Frogtown

(1988)

— Post Apocalyptic Sci-Fi Action Adventure Directed by: Donald G. Jackson & R. J. Kizer

In a world where fertile humans are a rare and treasured commodity, a fertile man is forced into indentured servitude on a mission to free a group of fertile women from a group of mutant frogs so that he can impregnate them for science.

Somewhere between Cult Classic, 80s Cocaine-fueled madness, and Soft Core Porn, we find Hell Comes to Frogtown.

I'll give it this: it takes a brave group of people to dare to make a movie this deranged.

And yet, for something so incredibly weird, it's also incredibly forgettable.

I don't have anything much to say about this. It is exactly what it sounds like...except both much weirder and much duller than you're expecting it to be.

Think Super Mario Bros. (1993), but with more scantily-clad ladies, less manic energy, and less ambition.

Definitely the sort of thing to watch with a friend, because you'll want someone there to verify that the things you're seeing are real and not just a fever dream.

66.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2

(1986)

— Slasher Horror Sequel Directed by: Tobe Hooper

A radio DJ becomes the target of a family of cannibals.

I'm starting to feel that every Texas Chainsaw movie has to have a character I hate SO MUCH that it taints the whole movie for me. In the original it was Franklin. In this one it's Chop-Top.

I no longer remember what I thought this movie was going to be like, but this is not it. No one is going to get this reference, but this movie has some shocking similarities to Nothing But Trouble (1991). If that movie was inspired by this I would not be surprised.

(Nothing But Trouble didn't have Chop Top and did have a cameo from the Digital Underground, so clearly it improved upon the formula.)

I really wish I liked this more, because I quite like Stretch as our lead character and I was actually having a great time in the first third. But then Chop-Top showed up and I blocked out most of the rest for my own mental health.

67.

Sharks of the Corn

(2021)

— Trash Directed by: Tim Ritter

There's sharks in a corn field...because of reasons!

I cannot properly express to you the pain it caused me to have to replace Tootsie as the worst movie I've seen this year. But it truly forced my hand!

Quite possibly the worst piece of writing I have ever seen. I don't even want to believe that a human wrote this. If you told me AI wrote this and they just went with it without making a single change? I'd believe it.

Actually, I'd be thrilled to know that that's how this came to be.

I have seen literal small children write stories more coherent than whatever this was.

If this isn't the worst movie I see this year, please pray for me, because it would take something truly monstrous to take this out of last place.

68.

Next Friday

(2000)

— Comedy Sequel Directed by: Steve Carr

Deebo has escaped from prison and Craig goes to live with his Uncle and cousin in Rancho Cucamonga

Overall I didn't like this as much as Friday, but I still had a good time. I definitely missed Chris Tucker though.

69.

Zapped

(2014)

— Sci-Fi Comedy Directed by: Peter DeLuise Based on: Boys are Dogs by. Leslie Margolis

A high school girl whose mother's marriage has just given her a new set of brothers lucks out when her phone gains the ability to control boys.

I...I don't even know what to say.

Disney channel movies are crazy.

Definitely something to watch with a friend...unless you grew up with Disney channel movies, then you're probably desensitized to their specific brand of oddness and are fine to fly solo.

70.

It's a Boy Girl Thing

(2006)

— Body-Swap Rom-Com Directed by: Nick Hurran

Two high schoolers wind up switching bodies after making a wish in front of an ancient relic.

The hunt for experiments in gender continue!

And the results are in: this is not one of them.

This is once again a Freaky Friday scenario. And also another one where both actors are playing a gender as opposed to playing the other character.

This just strengthens my theory that Rom-Coms are the most unhinged of all genres. Because some parts of this get so much crazier than I was ever expecting.

71.

The Music Man

(1962)

— Musical Rom-Com Directed by: Morton DaCosta

A grifter's plan to scam a small town into investing in a town band hits a snag when he catches feelings for the local librarian.

Right off the bat, can I mention that getting towns to invest in a fake marching band has got to be the world's weirdest con job. Like...what? There has got to be easier ways to con people out of money.

After loving Robert Preston in Victor/Victoria I wanted some more of him. And while I have seen a school production of The Music Man, I've never seen a film version.

This might be a weird take, but having now seen this as a film, I think the only way to properly see this musical is to watch a Middle/High School production of it. It just works better that way.

I can't properly explain why, but trust me on this. Go see a school production and then try and tell me I'm wrong. It's just got a weird sort of energy that can only be properly captured by youths playing adults.

72.

Promising Young Woman

(2020)

— Drama Thriller Directed by: Emerald Fennell

A woman plagued by regrets from the past is forced to confront what her mission of revenge means for her future.

I was curious about this one, but if I'm remembering correctly it came out right at the start of COVID...so I never did. And then I heard people saying it was too heavy handed and I never wound up seeing it.

But when I was working at the theater a coworker's praise for it made me want to give it a watch. And they were right, because it's not what I was expecting.

Anyone who says it's heavy-handed or a one-note story were not paying enough attention to character beats. I can see how someone would watch this and come away thinking it's just a Rape Revenge movie about a woman on a mission to get back at men.

But if you look a little closer you'll see it's actually the story about a woman who lost her best friend to the patriarchy and the confusion and guilt and horror of that drives her to self destructive acts.

She's compelled to try and do something, anything, to fix a system that one person just can't fix. And her inability to affect meaningful change on her own compels her towards increasingly dangerous acts.

It's not a story about justice, it's a story about living in a world where justice is impossible and no one wants to talk about it.

I dunno. There's so much going on under the hood of this one. I'm definitely going to have to see this one again.

73.*

Long Shot

(2019)

— Rom Com Directed by: Jonathan Levine

An internet journalist is hired as a speechwriter by his former babysitter (aka the current U.S. Secretary of State) in her bid for a Presidential run.

Oh, friends, this one has me conflicted!

Charlize Theron is phenomenal and makes the film. I'm still not a huge Seth Rogan fan, but I'll admit that I like him more in this than usual. June Diane Raphael is always superb. O'Shea Jackson Jr. was a delight until his character came out as a republican.

I really want to love this one, but I can never seem to suspend my disbelief enough to really get into this. American politics long ago killed any sort of hope or trust I could have in the political system. So the whole movie I'm just thinking that either she will cave in to the myriad of forces trying to stop progress or those forces will conspire against her and destroy her career.

But you know me, I'm a sucker for Charlize Theron, so I'll definitely wind up watching it again at some point in the future.

(Also, this is neither here nor there, but Todd McFarlane sucks. Of all the comic artists you could choose from, why would you choose him? Did he bribe you with baseballs or something?)

74.

Hey...Stop Stabbing Me!

(2003)

— SOV Horror Comedy Directed by: Josh Miller

A recent college grad desperate is forced to take a chance on a shady housing opportunity.

I always feel compelled to explain myself when I have to mention to you all that I watched things like this, lest you judge my tastes too harshly.

I watched it because I saw it on a list of movies that were filmed in Minnesota and it sounded weird and it was on Tubi.

I had a number of things I thought I'd talk about as I watched it, but then it started making some statutory rape jokes. So why waste my time discussing it?

Fuck this movie. It's stupid.

The two guys who made this went on to write the 2020 Sonic the Hedgehog movie. Which just goes to show that the world is a truly strange place.

75.

Friday After Next

(2002)

— Christmas Comedy Directed by: Marcus Raboy

Christmas time is right around the corner and Craig and Day-Day have to come up with a way to pay their rent after they're robbed by a man dressed as Santa Claus.

Would I have decided to watch this one if I was aware it was a Christmas movie? Probably not! But you know what? Sometimes you just gotta play the cards your dealt.

Still not as good as the original, but I still had a good time.

76.

Luca

(2021)

— Animated Fantasy Adventure Directed by: Enrico Casarosa

Two young merfolk take to dry land in search of friendship, adventure, and freedom.

On my list of actors I just don't like you will find Jacob Tremblay. I usually don't like to throw child actors under the bus, but Tremblay seemingly made a name for himself by portraying kids with various mental and physical disorders? (Ones he does not have mind you.)Room (2015), Burn Your Maps (2016), Wonder (2017), The Predator (2018).

And I know you can't really blame a kid for taking such roles in the way you'd blame an adult. But still! I think he's nearly 20 now. Maybe I'll feel better about the cringe of his career if he is ever like, "You know what, looking back on it, I wish I hadn't played an autistic character in The Predator." But until then I reserve my right to dislike his performances and general career path.

Anyways, this is just a really long way of saying that I had to switch it off English, because I have no desire to listen to Jacob Tremblay for an hour and a half.

It would have been nice if the disc had the Italian audio track, given that it's set in Italy, but both the French and Spanish dubs were superb.

Overall it's cute. Not sure I'll remember much of anything about it a year from now though. It approaches some bigger themes, but never fully commits to fleshing them out.

In The Little Mermaid they really establish Ariel as a character and get into WHY she yearns to break out of her status quo and stand on her own two feet. And here, it's more or less just some kids being kids and liking to explore and get away from overbearing parents.

Which is fine and all, but I've seen that storyline 1,000 times before, so unless you really do something new with it, it's liable to get lost in the crowd of my brain.

77.

The Colony

(2013)

— Frost Punk Horror Directed by: Jeff Renfroe

Humanity's attempts to control the weather have resulted in the planet being blanketed in a permanent Winter, driving the last remnants of civilization into underground bunkers to survive. But if you had a chance to set everything right, what would you be willing to risk?

I spent a lot of this movie wondering where I knew the main dude from and I finally broke and looked it up. He was familiar because he was the main guy from It's a Boy Girl Thing way back up there in movie #70.

And speaking of actors I just don't care for, let's add Bill Paxton to the list. I wasn't sure about it until this movie, but I've decided that I just don't care for his performances. I don't think he's ever pretended to have autism for a role though, so let's put him somewhere above Tremblay.

Laurence Fishburne is in this and the highlight of the movie. I hope he got paid a lot of money for it, because dear gods, he is way too good for this movie.

I don't even know what to say. It's not a good movie. It's just a bland sort of thing that floats halfway between Sci-fi and Horror and is too afraid to plant its flag anywhere solid.

I don't really see any reason to watch this unless you're trying to watch Laurence Fishburne's entire filmography.

78.*

The Other F Word

(2011)

— Documentary Directed by: Andrea Blaugrund

The followers of the Punk movement believed in living fast, dying young, and challenging authority at every turn. But how have those ideals changed now that some of those men are now fathers?

I had seen this in theaters back when it came out and I liked it then and I still like it now.

The main criticisms I see are ones that say that it tries to do too much, and I'd actually agree with that. It never really picks a lane. It could do a deep dive on how the ideals of a punk movement that never expected to live this long have changed now that they've gotten older. They could do it on what does parenthood itself mean to these older punks and how their pasts have influenced their parenting style. And more.

The film kind of does a little bit of everything. I wouldn't say it does anything poorly. I just think it has stumbled onto a fascinating topic that I want more from. So I love it for showing me what it could and leaving me wanting more.

I think it's a really great documentary.

I really only have two criticisms:

The Jim Lindberg bits were the only parts I'd really change. Some of them felt like a different kind of documentary altogether. I get it's because the idea for the movie comes from his book "Punk Rock Dad," but still. Those parts sometimes veered more into a biography style of documentary at times.

I don't think there was any real reason to have to be solely focused on fathers, instead of looking at parents in general. And it's especially weird to me that the framed it that way but then prominently feature Laura Jane Grace's song "I Was a Teenage Anarchist," even though their framing won't let them interview her, even though she is a parent too! I'm a fan so I've read her memoir and seen interviews with her and I know she has a lot she could add to the topic of punk icons who are now parents. As could lots of other punk parents.

But as a whole, I think it's a great documentary that both gives you a lot to think about and a desire to seek out even more information about these people and the history of the punk movement.

79.*

Weekend at Bernie's

(1989)

— Comedy Directed by: Ted Kotcheff

An opportunity for two low level employees at an insurance company to get in good with the big boss goes wrong when the boss winds up dead. But...what if no one knew he was dead?

I haven't seen this since I was in high school and going through a phase where I was renting all the classic movies that I had always heard about to see what they were like.

My thoughts about it then are the same as my thoughts now: they had about 20 minutes of good ideas for the premise and then stretched that shit out into a 97 minute movie.

The result: weirdly forgettable considering the premise. There's some memorable scenes, but the plot is just there to service the concept. The characters are there to just service the concept. And because of that there's never any real stakes.

Not really something I'd recommend unless you're like me and are interested in seeing something that's been referenced quite a lot over the years for yourself.

80.

Gun Crazy

(1950)

— Crime Drama Directed by: Joseph H. Lewis Based on: "Gun Crazy" by. MacKinlay Kantor

Two gun lovers find acceptance in one another, but their relationship is put to the test when dreams of a grander life drives them to risk everything.

Some movie-loving friends had great things to say about this one so I figured I'd give it a shot. And I'm glad I did because it really surprised me.

I'll give you this warning though: don't judge it from the beginning. Just trust that it'll get significantly better.

Honestly my only real complaint with the movie is that some parts felt entirely superfluous. Like, I think if they cut out like 30 minutes I would have been singing this one's praises.

Part of that 30 minutes would be the entire beginning set up bit. Not only is it weirdly hokey, but nothing in it accomplishes anything that couldn't have been established with a line or two of expositional dialogue in a different scene.

The whole thing is beautifully shot in black and white. Great performances. Some just banger bits of dialogue. Just a real gem. Highly recommended.

——————

March Stats

——————

Movies watched this month: 44

Rewatch percentage: 12.6% (6/44)

Favorite new movie of the month: Dick Johnson is Dead

Least favorite: Sharks of the Corn

——————

Previous Months' Posts:

JAN | FEB | MAR.p1

#xcusethequality

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dflogerzi · 6 months ago

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Would someone out there prove this wrong please? Because for me... the path is laid, been openly broadcasted, and the players rustling in the wings.

There is a reason for farms being shut down, cattle and livestock slaughtered, trains derailing, a ship taking out a key bridge. Oil dependence on other countries, electric cars that are worse on the environment to build and to rid ourselves of, chemtrails in the sky no longer being denied. Fires, sketchy ones, taking out whole towns, cars, and people... while leaving impossibly the vegetation intact.

And then there is the elephant in the room. Sudden deaths. I am going to skip on over this one fast.. but I lost family members myself. And have a few friends battling as I type this.

The UN, FEMA, and all sorts of organizations are actively funding and participating in the illegal immigration in our western countries. It is undermining our cities, producing crime, waste, loss of resources for our own citizens... and a bleak future that is creating us to become a third world nation. You do not believe it? Go ahead and visit some videos of cities such as New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco and more... and see the empty stores, the garbage piled up, the drug use openly in the streets, and the decay.

The WEF has been fully transparent of their goals for us. I cannot help it if there are those who either do not get past the mainstream media propaganda... or are so party driven they can no longer be objective. I am. Anyone who thinks their party is the one to bring more into your lives and protect your future is DREAMING. Neither party is what it once was. And neither is working for YOU. And even the ones in them with the big talk are doing nothing to save this country. They are all working together, and it is a play that is entering act three.

They are gearing up for this summer. And they are going to unleash chaos that is going to make four years ago look like a brawl on a grade school playground. You best lay in at least what you might need for a few months for your family. Because transportation by trucks and ships may be severely compromised, among other things.

I could go on. I just lost it obviously. I come here to romp a bit, share cute furry beings, art, history, and my love for the things in this world that brought me joy. Also I come for the friendships.

I am happy I lived when I did. Trust me... every decade has had its difficulties and issues. When I first entered High School they were sending our male graduates to Vietnam. We had poverty, war, strife, riots, unemployment, recessions, housing costs. All of it. Every dang decade. But what we did not know... and it was obviously a plan before even President Kennedy's time... was that we are not the plan. In a nutshell. When they say depopulation is a major goal, believe them.

I woke up the summer after I retired. I had been curious about things going on and went down rabbit holes that brought me more pain than I thought I would ever feel. I cried for months at the betrayals. Some of it has been scrubbed now. Not that it matters. Because from what I see... all minds are made up. Few are changing in perspective, and we are more pitted against one another than ever before in my own lifetime.

Seize your days. Love your family. Be prepared. And get right with yourselves in whatever it is you believe in, or whatever side you are on. For the meeting on the battlefield is coming for the West. We are only in the beginning skirmishes.

This was streamed from my conscience. I think I will publish it and even leave it up. I am sort of over the complaining of Harry and Meghan for the day and the distraction it provides. It is true it was the main reason I even came to Tumblr. I am still going to stay for that ending. But they are pawns on the world chessboard.

Love to friends here. Am going to tag just a few who have most likely expected me to blow like this.

@lovelycariad @go-scottishgal14 @oldgayjew @sandiedog3 @missmannersposts

There are more, many more I should tag. Tired now. Forgive me for not proofing this rant. I need to get offline and go feel the day.

Ending with this. Those close to me will know why.

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madaboutmunson · 2 years ago

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Everlong Chapter 5 - Shadows (Let Me Call You Sweetheart Part 2)

Warnings: talk of drinking, hungover, vampire stuff, biting, blood, arguing, angst, kisses, swearing, a lil bit of spice, food, nausea, vomiting (once not graphic)

Summary: As the bond between reader and Eddie grows closer, he reveals more about what it means to be a vampire. A new dream starts putting pieces of the puzzle together.

Tags: @munchabunch @silverrings-n-prettythings

Special big thanks to @portaltothevoid for helping me with this story, coming up with a classic Eddie line, being a supportive mega muse and providing feedback that makes me laugh so hard!!

Your eyes blink open, outside the sun is just setting. You try to sit up to get a better view, but a leg and an arm are thrown over you, and pull you firmly back towards Eddie, "No," he grumbles sleepily.

You smile looking over at him, his face totally hidden by his beautiful mass of perfectly defined curls, he's still dressed in what he had on earlier, as are you. You'd half expected him to be gone by the time you came round, just like normal, but he'd stayed, snuggled up next to you.

The only problem was, as much as you loved being totally enraptured by this sleeping prince, you were also horrendously ravenous. The cart of food is way too far out of reach. Your stomach growls loudly.

You feel Eddie's head move and his lips press up against your shoulder as he speaks with a little slur, "Could you think quieter? Jesus, babe." Your stomach growls yet again, and you wriggle your way out of his grasp to a chorus of much complaining.

You sit next to the cart and graze a little, a grape, a slice of apple, some juice, a sip of coffee, a bite of a pastry, until you're grabbing fistfuls of whatever you can find and can't fit it in your mouth quickly enough.

"You ok, babe?" Eddie's concerned voice stops you in your tracks, as you let go of a handful of some kind of cake you hadn't even tasted the flavour of, as it plops back onto the trolley.

"Er…yeah…was just…hungry," you say, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, and suddenly all the food and drink swirls in your stomach, sending you hurtling to the bathroom to throw up.

You hear Eddie rifling around in your suitcase before he appears in the bathroom doorway, with your set of aviator sunglasses on. "Well at least I don't have to feel like shit on my own," he laughs, and reaches for his head and tries to laugh quieter, "You ok?"

"Yeah, just hungry," you squint back, getting up to wash your face and brush your teeth.

Eddie cuddles up to the side of you, and kisses you on the cheek. Which is amusing because you can see him clear as day out of the corner of your eye, but in the mirror all you can see is where your robe and cheek press in.

He heads back to the room and sits down at the table, clearing up your mess, as gently and silently as he can, for his own sake.

You quickly scurry out to grab some clothes and run back into the bathroom and lock the door to get changed. Whilst alone you take a little time to assess the damage. You take off the bathrobe and note only a tiny droplet of blood has made its way onto it. Well that's a plus, he's not a messy eater. You can barely see the bite marks at all, it doesn't look all that different to a hickey. You hop up onto the sink to take a closer look and that's when you see the two tiny pin prick holes.

Since Eddie's fangs, or any of his teeth for that matter, weren't this small, it must have healed incredibly fast, which makes sense in a way, otherwise people would just bleed out. What if a vampire wanted you to bleed out though? You shake your head to stop your brain going down this rabbit hole.

You throw on the polo neck and jeans and join Eddie at the table.

He's made you a little plate of food up, "Just eat this…but slowly this time, alright?" He puts the sunglasses on top of his head and pretends to be looking at his phone, but you can feel his eyes staring at you.

You put down your cracker, and sit back in your chair, "Do you want to talk about what happened?" You ask him as he hurriedly looks down at his phone.

He shakes his head, "Nah, you're good." He wrinkles his nose and scrolls whatever is on his phone a few times so you go back to your food, but you can see out of the corner of your eye he keeps looking up at you.

You drop your cracker on your plate again, "Eddie, I do not have the power to read minds like you do, so if you have something to say or something you want to ask, please do it."

He shrugs his shoulders, and points at his phone, "I was just reading the spa here has great reviews, we should go right? Could be fun," he speaks much quicker than before, his voice still a little rough.

You reach over and snatch his phone from him, "Yes because you're bound to have found reviews for the spa here by scrolling through…." You glance at his phone screen, "someone painting a miniature orc, Eddie." You turn the phone screen to him.

He looks a little ashamed and gives you the big eyes.

"Out with it! Now!!" You shout at him.

He throws his hands up, "Alright, alright, Jesus Christ, don't wake everyone up." You laugh and gesture to the setting sun outside. Eddie laughs too and the tension in the air dissolves.

"All I wanted to know was, if you were hurt, and then I thought that was a stupid thing to ask because I…well I….I bit you," he gets a little awkward towards the end, and something occurs to you.

"You don't wait around after feeding do you? Wait…am I….Am I your first post bite debrief?" You say with a big smile on your face.

He looks a little down at the table, a little shy, "Maybe…"

"So you just run up to people, bite them and run off?" You ask curiously.

"No it's not like that, you can hypnotise them, or you know, seduce them or whatever, and then you have your fill and leave them be, or you know kill them," he says with a smile, it's like he's explaining a variation of a recipe to you.

He looks at a spot on the table and prods it a few times with his finger, and swallows nervously, "And you should know, that, no one has really offered it to me before, you know without me using my powers. If you see what I mean?" he clears his throat, "And that was kinda…um…hot?...and nice….Also a nice thing not just hot…very nice of you to offer" his voice goes a little higher as he stumbles over his words.

"You're lying…you have to be…in 36 years?" You say frowning at him in disbelief.

"Remind me to never open up to you ever again. Wow," he says, folding his arms while looking unamused.

You let out a small laugh before answering, "It didn’t hurt. Not at the time and not now.…not at all…very much the opposite of hurt…it felt…how did you put it…nice. Maybe you've got anaesthetic in those things," you chuckle.

Eddie raises his eyebrows and a smile spreads across his face, "How nice, exactly?... and be specific," he says tilting his head pushing some food around on a plate.

You puff out your cheeks and then blow all the air out of your mouth, "Like really nice," you say whilst repetitively nodding, whilst looking out of the window.

Eddie chuckles mischievously, "Interesting."

"Anything else you wanna know?" You ask as your food plate becomes a very interesting thing to look at now you feel very embarrassed. You'd heard it said before that if you were too shy to talk about something, you shouldn't be doing it, and this certainly made you feel shy. It felt mind blowing, like nothing else you'd ever felt in your life, but if Eddie hadn't used his vampire luring powers, why was it like that? It didn't make any sense. Unless it felt like that for everyone.

You stop pushing your food around the plate, because you realise Eddie is very quiet. You look up at him and narrow your eyes, "Did you just?" Eddie's smile erupts into a huge grin, and he laughs heartily.

You throw a grape at him, "Eddie!!! You said you wouldn't do that if we were sitting together!!" You whine, "You can't just read my thoughts whenever you like!!"

"I'm pretty sure it doesn't feel like that for everyone," he adds still smiling to himself, "I've had people yelling and screaming in terror before," Eddie grimaces at what he's just said because he's realised something before you have.

You point a finger at him, "Wait...You didn't use your powers on me. You could have really hurt me."

"It was the heat of the moment alright. I wasn't thinking especially after what you did and said. I wasn't acting alone," he complains.

You hold your hands up, "You know what. You're right. We know better for next time," you say with a shrug

Eddie stops still, "Next time?" He says seriously.

"Oh, no next time? I don't know how it works, sorry." You say with an apologetic smile.

"Well…if there was a next time...like, if that just happened...You know, I never cared for Tequila. More of a beer guy." He smiles over at you.

"Wait, you can taste that?" You ask a bit weirded out, Eddie nods. "What about food, is that the same?" Eddie nods again. You look at the trolley cart and laugh to yourself.

"What's so funny?" He looks at you with a curious happiness.

"I had a stupid idea." You say, shaking your head and getting up from the table.

Eddie reaches his hand out and taps your wrist, "Hey, you can't have a stupid idea without letting me in on it. That's not fair."

"Well I just thought, you don't eat food right? And no one offered to be fed from before? So I thought, what if we order some of your old favourite foods, and I eat them for you, and you can, you know, taste them. Told you it was weird," you say tidying up your plate and pushing the trolley out the door.

As you shut the door and turn back into the room, you find yourself face to face with Eddie. The side of his nose brushing the side of yours. He lets out a small sigh that shudders, as he pushes you gently back against the door.

"You'd do that? For a monster like me?" He asks sincerely.

You smile and stroke the side of his face, "The only thing monstrous about you Eddie, is your refusal to see yourself as I do."

His lips crash into yours and he kisses you softly. As he pulls away he looks over your face, and whispers as he sings, "oh help me someone, help me please." Then he pulls you away from the door, twirling you around to sit you on the edge of the bed. He stands in front of you, "Ok so I like your idea. Like so fuckin' much," he grits his teeth in a smile and clenchs his fists with excitement, "but I raise you", he composes himself, "I raise you, we go out."

"Have you lost your mind?" You laugh at him.

"Well yeah…but ok just watch. Something I was working on last week." He says shaking out his arms, and legs and puts his hands to his jaw, and pushes them up his face and over his head.

Your jaw goes slack. Eddie has completely changed his whole face and hair. The only thing that remains the same are the shape of his eyes, and his mouth. His long brown curly hair is now a short cropped blonde hair cut. His deep brown eyes are blue, his angular features are softened, his button nose is now pointed.

"What the fuck, Eddie?" You say in shock.

"No, no," he replies, "This is Ambrose," he says in a stereotypical nerdy, stuffy nose type voice and bows at you. You run over to your suitcase and find him some clothes. A non band tee, some belted trousers, and some shoes. He takes the clothes into the bathroom and emerges a few minutes later, looking like someone's lost Dad.

You look over the whole ensemble and laugh still in shock, "I mean you can't see in a mirror, but I think you've created the anti-Eddie."

He stretches his arms out to you, "Now come over here honeybun, and give me some sugar."

"No…that's weird…is the voice necessary?" You say still giggling about the whole thing, but also horrified about kissing someone who wasn't Eddie.

"Of course it's necessary," he pulls out a pair of glasses from his jacket pocket and puts them on, "This is what conformist American thinks a nerd looks and sounds like, but also," he walks over to you and covers your eyes and gives you a small kiss, "see it's me." He smiles his new smile at you as he uncovers your eyes.

"So weird, but I see what you've done here. Ok…let's get out of here."

You spend the next few hours walking around the streets of New York City. Eating and gathering up little bits of food and drink that Eddie liked. Neither of you could resist going into a guitar shop, which was a lot of fun, because you got to see the faces of the people in there when "Ambrose" picked up the most Metal looking guitar in the store, plugged it in and started wailing on it.

"You know, I think he's growing on me after that performance," you say jokingly.

On the way back into the hotel, arms laden with bags of treats, and lost in playful conversation you come to an abrupt stop when you hear, "Hey Y/N!!" Your eyes go wide, it's Terry's voice.

You try to pretend you haven't heard and keep walking toward the elevators, but Eddie stays perfectly still, committed to his role, "Hey, honeysuckle. Aren't you gonna introduce me to your friends here?"

You try to communicate with Eddie using your eyes that you should really just go. Now! He just smiles, and extends a hand out to Terry as he approaches, "Ambrose, and obviously I know who you all are. My little cherry blossom’s amigos." He points each one of them out and names them, and gives them a limp handshake.

You push the elevator button as a backup for exiting quickly if needed, and begrudgingly walk back over.

"Hey, you all heading out somewhere fun?" Eddie asks, enthusiastically.

"Just gonna hit some bars, pick up a few snacks to bring back you know," Armani winks at Ambrose.

"Oh sure, sure," Eddie replies. "That's what we've been doing today. Haven't we, sweet pea?" He pushes his glasses back up his nose.

The band laughs at Ambrose's apparent obliviousness to their meaning. Harley and Jenna smile at one another in a way that just reads 'He's so frickin adorable.'

Terry pats Ambrose on the arm, and points a finger at you, smiling, "You should know, they were extremely, annoyingly almost, well behaved all tour."

"Well I wouldn't expect anything less from my lil' love bug. I hope you weren't trying to corrupt them out there," he lets out several snorts of laughter at his own joke.

All of the band turn and stare wide eyed at you, almost as if waiting for the green flag to wave so they can commence falling about with laughter.

You offer them back a tight closed mouth smile, and a nod, taking Eddie's hand in yours. Ding! Universe be praised, the elevator shows up just in time.

Eddie cannot help himself as you wave goodbye and head towards the lifts. He looks back over his shoulder, "Now, have a great night kids, don't do anything I wouldn't do!" and he gives them a little salute wave.

Only the two of you stand in the elevator. You ride in silence for about 5 floors until Eddie erupts with a huge amount of cackling and jumping up and down, "Did you see that? Oh my god. Their faces. Holy shit, that was fun. Fucking idiots."

"Come on now, how could they have possibly known it was you?" You say nudging him playfully.

"Oh, I'll be calling them whatever I want. I know what they were insinuating out there, so now I know the tour bus might have been a deeper pit of debauchery than I thought…" he says a little annoyed, "... buuuuut I now also know you didn't forget about me even when you weren't having any of your painful reminders," he says leaning into your personal space.

You laugh and push him away as you finally reach your floor. Your heart is already thudding in your chest in anticipation. You click open the door and Eddie still as Ambrose checks around the room carefully. Once happy that the coast is clear. He shakes off his disguise and zooms around the room making sure everything is locked up so you'd be safe from any disturbances.

He eventually stops in front of you, locking your eyes with his and takes the bags from your hands, dropping them on the floor before taking your hands in his, and walking you towards the window that looks out onto the lights of the city.

Eddie moves behind you and rests his chin on your shoulder, his arms around your waist.

You lean back on him with a sigh, "It's so much more beautiful at night, isn't it?"

"What? New York?" He asks looking out at the city with you.

"Well…yeah…and like, home, the sky, nature, crowds of people, music, but also everything else," you say, turning your head toward his face.

He looks at you from the corner of his eye and with false surprise asks, "Are you hitting on me? Because if you are, you should know…. it's working," he smiles.

He firmly pulls your body tighter to his with one arm, and with his other hand gently tilts your chin up as he plants a trail of soft slow kisses from your lips, and along your jawline.

He pauses and his fingers run along the collar of your polo neck teasing it downwards, planting a small kiss on every newly exposed area of skin.

You feel him stop and softly nuzzle against the bruise from earlier, before taking in your aroma, and running his tongue across it patiently.

You just about resist making the noise you so desperately wanted to in that moment, but when he plants a kiss on the bruise a sudden gasp escapes your mouth. You realise how tightly you are gripping onto his arm that is draped around you. As you move your fingers you see a set of deep impressions in his flesh.

He kisses the bruise again, the contact lingering this time, his tongue escaping from between his lips to drag across the minuscule bite marks that remain, sending an explosion of electricity from the point of contact throughout your body.

He pauses and releases his restraint of you, reaching for the lower hem of your polo neck jumper, gently toying with it between his fingers. Your hands meet his and you slowly remove your top.

Eddie's cold hands clasp onto your newly exposed sides. A new uncharted territory for his lips to stake their claim on. From the base of your spine all the way back up to your shoulders. His fingers tracing gently along your collarbone, and up the front of your throat where his hand stops and gently rests.

A trail of tiny fang drag kisses commence around the site, and your brain goes into a daze as your head instinctively drops to the side, to allow him as much access as he wanted. This silent invitation makes his body tense up and a quiet rumbling growl emerges from him, if he hadn't been right next to your ear, you probably wouldn't have even heard it.

To your surprise he turns his attention back to your shoulders and snakes one arm around your waist again, his cold rings gliding over your torso.

You hear his hair rustle next to your ear, before he utters in a haunting rasp, "Would you say it again for me?"

He nose bumps against the bite from earlier again, as if you needed reminding.

"Go ahead," you say easily in a breathy voice. "It's yours…All yours, Eddie."

The next noise you hear will probably stay with you until the end of your days. An almost terrifying lustful growl intertwined with a complete enraptured whimper, and they were both emerging from Eddie at the same time.

The speed of the motion he makes to bite down on you is supernaturally fast, but to you, when contact is made, it feels no different from a passionate kiss.

At this angle you can feel Eddie's own throat is against your skin. His rhythmic gulps almost in time with the pounding of your heart. The waves of elation crash into your mind thick and fast. You close your eyes and feel as if you could just melt into nothing. Nothing had ever felt like this, not even close.

A small, pleased murmur comes from against your skin, "You taste so good…jesus…" Eddie says, sounding a little out of it himself, before biting down again. He grips onto your upper arms so tightly it almost hurts. He moves his hands again so they clasp together around you and squeezes so he can lift you up towards him. It's almost like he's trying to find purchase and pull you closer together, but it's impossible.

You feel your eyes start to slowly blink open and shut as your head rolls back onto his shoulder. You can feel Eddie smile against your neck, and he parts from you slowly. He laps gently at the wound, before scooping you up in his arms.

"All mine," he says, sitting you on the edge of the bed, his blood red eyes looking into yours, stroking your hair.

He moves away for a moment to get you a drink of water, which he helps you drink because your limbs are jelly right now. He dresses you for bed, making sure you are comfortable, before undressing himself, climbing in and snuggling up next to you.

You sigh contentedly as his hair and face snuggle up to the side of your own, his arms slide around you, and the safety you feel, allows you to drift into dream.

You hear the ring of a bell and look up to see a greying gentleman and a teen enter. Looking around the area, you see musical instruments of all different shapes and sizes. Most notably a neon lit wall of guitars that the teen is waved towards by his guardian, who approaches the counter.

The greying gentleman does not acknowledge you, and deals with the man at the register. He leans over the counter, and in a hushed tone asks, "Name’s Munson, I've got a custom order due next week. For the boy's birthday."

Something about this man is so familiar to you, but you can't place it. You look to the lad he's indicated and move around the shop for a closer look from the other side of the wall of guitars.

Through the gaps between the wall slats, you spy the young man. A head of dark curls, his deep dark brown eyes gazing up at the guitars in awe, his mouth slightly open.

There was no mistaking this face. You move closer still, and as you do, the boy's hand reaches out to where you are, his eyes transfixed on the particular guitar between you.

The want to reach back was overwhelming, but you resist. Instead opting to test a theory. You move a distance down the wall behind a different guitar.

You look back to where the boy stood. His face looks confused for a moment, he’s almost frowning, like something had been snatched away from him. He lowers his hand to his pockets and looks around bashfully, in case anyone had seen him.

His innocent, doe eyes scan over the wall of instruments and as he gets closer to where you are he slows down. He turns to face the wall in front of you, he looks around himself and cautiously lifts his hand towards you again. A smile erupts on his face, and the neon lights dance in his eyes.

You smile back and raise your own hand towards him. His eyes widen so that you can see the whites surrounding the deep pools of brown, and he lunges forward at the guitar between you.

"Leave it alone, boy. We don't got time today, Eddie." Both of you nearly jumped out of your skin, having not seen the older man approach. The man puts his arm around the teen's shoulder and begins walking him out of the store. Eddie puts up no resistance and smiles warmly back up at the man, but as he leaves he takes a last look back.

As he spins his head towards you, time slows and you are right back holding a basket standing in an apothecary. Slowly blinking as the curls swish and bounce gently on his face. You let out a sigh. He blinks at you one…two times.

And you've waited. Oh how you've waited for that look your entire existence. He was here at last. On the very land you'd laid in that meadow. In the very place you'd lost your life. And here he was giving it back to you, in those eyes. This wasn't an infatuation, this was a true connection.

You knew what you had to do, it's why you'd been left to wander, to haunt, to inspire, to watch the world walk by. All those painful, gut wrenching days, months, years, decades of utter loneliness had been worth it, because there he was.

You rush back to behind the counter and scan over all the guitars in the customisation queue, reading the names as quickly as you can, until you find the one labelled with the name Munson.

It was due a custom paint job, they'd be back soon enough guaranteed.

Nothing would stand in your way this time. You vowed to destroy the world, the universe, the gods themselves if you couldn't be with him, as promised, for eternity.

As quick as a flash you are plunged back into the reality of your hotel room, breathing heavily. Your frantically searching hands find Eddie's cool to the touch torso.

You shake him awake, whisper shouting at him, "Eddie! wake up!! Wake up! Eddie!"

He wakes up with a start, "Wh-what is it?" He asks in alarm trying to look around the room whilst rubbing his eyes.

You grip onto his shoulder and give him one firm shake, "It's the guitar, Eddie. I need to get to the guitar."

"Honey, no. Ok you've had a bad dream or something ok? Let's just calm down, alright?" He says groggily, trying to coax you back into his arms.

"No…you don't understand, there is a connection here. Between these dreams and the pain, tonight I know it's the guitar. It must be from when I landed on it, maybe a piece of it is still in me. Like a splinter or something? That's why I feel so awful away from the cell, and away from you."

Eddie shakes his head again, "Look, let's say you're right, babe. That guitar is under more security than the crown jewels, we can't get in there."

You look him in the eyes, "Maybe we can't, but I know a man who can."

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Let Me Call You Sweetheart Part One Chapter 1

Fanfic Master List

Songs you might want to listen to whilst reading this chapter:

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddiemunson #eddie stranger things #eddie the freak munson #stranger things fanfiction #fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x reader #romance #eddie vampire #vampire eddie munson #vampire!eddie #eddie munson vampire #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader

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nanowrimo · 4 years ago

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3 Most Common Worldbuilding Mistakes for Writers and How to Fix Them

Every year, we’re lucky to have great sponsors for our nonprofit events. World Anvil, a 2021 NaNoWriMo sponsor, helps you develop and organize your characters, plot, and world setting. Today, World Anvil founder Janet Forbes is here to share some pro tips for worldbuilding. Don’t forget to check out the offer to NaNoWriMo writers for 30% off a World Anvil membership!

I talk to hundreds of writers every week, in our World Anvil Q&A live streams, our World Anvil writing challenges, and meetings with our professional authors. And mostly, they’re encountering the same few worldbuilding problems! Here are the 3 most common worldbuilding mistakes, and how you can fix them:

1. Mary-Sue Worldbuilding

You’re probably familiar with the Mary-Sue—a flawless, artificial-feeling main character. Mary Sue Worldbuilding follows in the same vein. If everything in your setting is directly related to your main character, it feels like the world revolves around them. It’s too convenient and artificial. That’s Mary-Sue worldbuilding.

Mary-Sue worldbuilding is usually caused by worldbuilding exclusively around your plot. Introducing larger-scale conflict in the backdrop of your setting, current affairs like civil or religious movements, war, disasters, or technological breakthroughs, can help expand the world beyond just your main character.

Your main character might interact with these elements, or more usually, with problems caused by them. For example, they might help some refugees from “that war over there”. But your character should not be at the core of everything—they’re not the cause of the war. Other things are happening outside of your story, in the background. (Pro-tip: this is a great way to reinforce your genre and themes, and make your world feel alive and expansive, too!).

Fixing Mary-Sue Worldbuilding Of course you’ll need a series bible like World Anvil to help you keep these current affairs organized, connect them together, and make sure you don’t lose your notes! Use World Anvil’s worldbuilding templates to get inspired for your big conflicts, and remember - you only need to write a few bullet points to start with! You can always expand more later (we’ll talk more about that in a moment).

World Anvil’s Worldbuilding Templates are custom-made by experts to help inspire and guide your creativity—and you can customize your own templates too!

2. Mosaic Worldbuilding

You know those computer game worlds where each area feels like a self-contained zone? Where the “desert” region and the “forest” region have no trade, communication, or overlap between them? That, in a nutshell, is Mosaic worldbuilding. It ruins suspension of disbelief, makes your novel setting feel false, and can pull your readers out of your story!

Fixing Mosaic Worldbuilding

The best way to avoid Mosaic Worldbuilding is to make sure that you have a clear overview of your world early on, with each major region and concept penned out in just a sentence or two. That way, each region will feel like a connected aspect of your seamless setting, not a tile shoved on the side.

On World Anvil, each world setting has a “Worldbuilding Meta” section to help you detail the 10,000 foot overview—the big stuff. And not just your physical world and its people, but your genre, your motivations, and your themes. This invaluable reference tool helps you expand your setting and add more detail, and will also help you sense-check what you’re adding!

Once you have a clear picture of your meta, and know the overview of your world, it’ll be easy to make use of cultural aspects like imports and travellers, cultural diasporas and geographical transition zones to make your world seem more connected and less artificially divided! And you’ll be able to do it without spending too much extra time worldbuilding. Which brings me to my final common worldbuilding mistake…

World Anvil’s Worldbuilding Meta tool helps you focus, streamline and sense-check your world setting! It’s full of guides to create an excellent overview for your worldbuilding project. This is the view mode of Manifold Sky by B.C.G. Wurth.

3. Worldbuilder’s Disease

Sounds nasty, right? Well, Worldbuilder’s Disease is a very common problem—a compulsion to continue worldbuilding things which aren’t actually useful. Here’s my favorite example—the “elven shoes”:

In your world you have elves. They wear shoes. So far, so good. Maybe there’s a plot-point where an imposter’s revealed because they’re wearing the wrong shoes. So you fill in a few details on your series bible. But if you find yourself writing a 5,000 word treatise on elven shoes through the ages… honey, you have worldbuilder’s disease.

I use shoes as an example, but it could be anything. It might be detailing three centuries of monarchy, or expanding unvisited areas in excruciating detail. Sure, it can be fun, but all that time spent on unnecessary parts of your setting isn’t helping you polish the core parts—or get your novel written! It’s distracting you from your primary goal.

Curing Worldbuilder’s Disease

There are three major causes of worldbuilders disease:

Lack of perspective

Lovers of prose

Fear of losing your ideas

1. Lack of perspective

Lack of perspective can often lead down a worldbuilding rabbit hole. Keep clarity on what’s important in your setting with tools like World Anvil’s Worldbuilding Meta. This helps you define your active worldbuilding area - not just geographical but thematic areas—which helps streamline your world and your project, so you can be sure you’re spending your time where it counts!

Also, be clear with yourself WHY you’re worldbuilding the element you’re working on. Keep clear notes in your series bible about how this new element fits into your novel. If it’s little more than set dressing, you only need a few words. For a core concept, you might need more.

2. Lovers of Prose

As writers, we love to write (duh)! But for most of us, writing in prose in our series bible can cause serious problems. Not only does it mean that you write MORE than we should (your get in flow, words happen!), it’s also harder to reference your ideas quickly later on. Stick to short, organized articles in note form. Make sure the salient information is there, and link in anything relevant. You can always expand to prose later if you need to.

Keep your series bible in brief notes with clear headers! This character article took 5 minutes using World Anvil’s character template which automatically adds the headers. The linked articles help me easily reference related people and places as I’m writing.

3. Fear of losing our ideas

Fear of losing our ideas is actually one of the most common reasons for worldbuilder’s disease—that we’ll forget or lose our notes if we don’t write them out in vast detail. To combat this, make sure you have somewhere to keep your world details safe, organized, tagged and searchable. Then you can reassure yourself that you can go back and develop more later if you need it.

Obviously, World Anvil is custom made for this, backing up everything in one place and linking everything together, so you can easily search, reference and update your series bible whilst writing your manuscript and not have to worry about losing things!

Anything here ring true for you? Or maybe you’re struggling with another worldbuilding mistake or problem? You can always hop into our live streamed Q&A sessions on our Twitch channel and ask us directly! We go live three times a week to answer questions about writing and worldbuilding, as well as helping our community with World Anvil queries too! Maybe we’ll see you there. And happy worldbuilding :)

Janet Forbes is a published fantasy author and RPG writer, whose recent credits include the Dark Crystal RPG with the Henson Company (coming 2021). In 2017, she and her husband created World Anvil, the ultimate worldbuilding and novel writing platform. World Anvil helps you organize, store and develop your worldbuilding and series bible privately, and market your books to the world too! The inbuilt novel writing software, accessible from anywhere, integrates seamlessly with your worldbuilding. And when it’s time to publish, you can export, or publish directly on the World Anvil platform and monetize YOUR way! Check it out at World Anvil.

#nanowrimo #camp nanowrimo #writing #amwriting #worldbuilding #writing advice #by nano sponsor #world anvil #janet forbes

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house-of-laminations · 3 years ago

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Hiiii ! I love your blog sm :) I was just wondering if you had advice to give to fellow tumblr writers? Even though I'm tagging and stuff I'm still really struggling to be seen on my new blog and its a little disheartening. If you don't have advice for that specifically, do u have any advice for finding and developing ideas? I hope you're having a good day either way because you really seem so lovely 🧚

oh my goodness thank you 🧚anon 💛 I hope you're having a wonderful day too!

Full disclosure: I'm making up this writing blog thing as I go along. I didn't expect any of my stuff to draw the attention that it has so the whole 'visibility' thing feels a lot like luck. That being said, there's a few things I've picked up on my decade+ on this site, as well as some things from being a little internet and design savvy.

Tumblr tag functionality is and always will be a mystery. However in times of yore, the tags that took search priority are the first five tags. Work out which are the five most common tags relevant to your topic/fandom - the ones that get the most traffic, and prioritize those.

Don't be afraid to shamelessly promo and reblog your own stuff. Lord knows the like-to-reblog ratio is atrocious - the only way things show up on a dash without an algorithm is through reblogs.

Link back to your stuff within your post as much as you can! You may notice I include a little back to masterlist at the bottom of my writing posts. It's at the bottom, not the top, because readers that enjoy your work will have made it to the end of the post, and it saves them the effort of scrolling back to the top once they're done. It's also a not-so-subtle hint that you have even more work!

Make friends! Follow other writing blogs starting out - and even the bigger ones - and don't be afraid to reblog their own work. Scream at them in the tags. Talk about what you like! I think people would be surprised at how many people I follow back because of the tags they leave on my fics.

Never let it dishearten you to the point where you stop writing. To be frank, tumblr is one of the hardest platforms to build an audience on. Please don't take it as an indictment on your passion - it's literally a hellsite. To counteract this share your writing with friends that you trust. All my stuff I really only write for one, or maybe two people. And they know who they are. It's their support that keeps me writing - not my follow count or my notes. One of the favourite things I have written has the least amount of notes, go figure.

In terms of developing ideas, I have a few pointers here too:

Write what you love. I know that sounds like a cop-out, but you'll find that ideas come more naturally when you enjoy what you do. It doesn't matter if what you love is trope-filled and cliche. Those tropes and cliches exist for a reason, and that reason is everyone loves them.

On that note: visit TVTropes if you feel like you're struggling with ideas. Follow a few rabbit holes. You may lose an afternoon or five to it. Sorry not sorry.

Don't be afraid to do what's been done before. So what if there are twelve other fics about kissing pretty boys/girls/enbies under the mistletoe? This is your own take, and you can bet your ass people will appreciate it because you're the only you to exist.

Along both of these points - work out what it is exactly that drew you to this fandom/media/genre in the first place. What expectations did you have going in, and how were those subverted by reality? Can you play in your original expectations?

Don't be afraid of a good mash-up. "omg imagine [x] au" has become somewhat of a meme with a few of my friends. Sometimes an 'au' is just an excuse to play with the tropes of another genre and that's ok!

Prompt generators are your friend.

Don't write alone. Find a friend who will happily just listen to your ideas. They don't even have to be part of the fandom. If you're feeling particularly extroverted, you could even join one of the discords that are floating around. The point is to find someone to share your ideas with so they can be excited with and for you. If you're anything like me it may also help to keep you accountable.

Consume other media. Don't let one fandom dominate. Go outside for a walk and experience life. This sounds cliche again, but sometimes all it takes to come up with new ideas is to just. Give yourself a break. Walk away and come back. And its hard to come up with ideas if you dig yourself into a single-media-hole.

I could honestly write a massive post on creating ideas and brainstorming because it's my favorite part of the creative process. It can be fun - There's so much potential at that point. But yeah this is getting long. I hope this helps! 💛

#🧚anon #writing reference #<- I guess?#I went teacher mode on this again oops #i talk to a real human #also it helps if you have a best friend who joins the same fan community at the same time and gets even MORE popular #its free publicity baybeee #no not really i pay in love and affection

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honeyhan-123 · 3 years ago

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A Slice of Heaven ~ Part One

Summary: When Jensen stumbles across Melody Meringue on a cam website, he just can’t forget her and his obsession blurs the lines between right and wrong.

Warnings: masterbation, camgirl, mention of anal.

Word Count: 1.7k

AN: This can be read as a standalone and has very little - if any - darkness to it. However, Jensen will start to turn dark in the later parts.

Also this is my first time writing for Jensen so I hope you enjoy!

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

It all started with a crass joke made by Cougar. Like most of his jokes, Jensen was there but of it. He was used to it by now but something about the way Cougar patronised him about how he wouldn’t understand because of his inability to make a woman look his way just got under his skin.

Even as Jensen made his way home later that night he was still seething. His anger wasn’t directed at Cougar but at women in general. Why didn’t they pay him any attention? He was just as fit as Cougar, just as smart as him too, probably more so given everything he could do with a computer, but women still ignored him.

He was too potent up to eat so instead Jensen logged onto his laptop and opened up a private browser. He hardly had to type in the first word before google knew what he wanted, offering up the direct link. He was greeted with a black screen and bold red words slowly started to appear. Hot single and lonely.

Jensen pulled his laptop to the edge of his desk and reached into the draw, searching for the secret little satin bag with one hand while his other scrolled down the website. He wasn’t sure what he was in the mood for tonight but he was having fun looking at all the choices. He was tossing up between a best friend threesome and a horny stepmom when a little notification along the top left of the screen caught his eye.

Melody Meringue is about to go live. Click here to join.

Jensen had never really been one for cam girls, he preferred to be able to to skip to the good parts but there was something about the little miniature image of you. There you were kneeling on your bed, a white babydoll covering your sensuous curves, and a golden mask covering the top half of your face. He couldn’t help but click on the link.

It was free to join so Jensen figured you must be pretty new to the scene. You mustn't have amassed enough followers yet for them to charge a joining fee.

You hadn’t started the session yet so while Jensen was waiting for it to begin he headed to the kitchen, his little satin bag in hand. He still had enough time to boil some water before you were meant to start, plus Jensen figured you wouldn’t get to the good stuff for a while, wanting to go through as many pay barriers as possible.

When the water started to bubble over, Jensen opened up his most recent purchase. It was pitiful that he had had to stoop so low, relying on a flashlight to keep him company. Maybe if women weren’t so shallow and vapid, he’d have a real pussy to fuck.

By the time his toy had warmed up enough and was once again sitting in front of his screen, you were ready to start.

‘Well, it looks like I have a nice big turnout tonight. Thank you all so much, you really do know how to make a girl feel special.’ Jensen swallowed thickly. Your voice was so perfect, so sweet and innocent. He could already tell a girl like you didn’t belong on a seedy website like this.

‘To any newcomers, I’m Melody Meringue and here’s how this is going to work. I’m here to please you, to make sure you have a good time and the best way to ensure that is to click on the little dollar sign down the bottom. There’ll be a list of actions I can perform for you, each with a different amount attached. However if there’s anything you’d like to see that isn’t listed just send me a message and I’m sure we’ll be able to arrange something.’

All of that seemed fairly standard to Jensen, despite never having seen a show like this before and he was surprised by how many messages there were already. They ranged from ‘c’mon Melody. Let Daddy see those gorgeous tits’ all the way to much more crude messages ‘I want to see that big purple dildo up your ass this time’. A wave of heat flushed through Jensen as he read that last message. He could barely imagine a sweet thing like you taking something up the ass but god, did he want to see it.

With one hand Jensen fumbled with his best while his other filled the fleshlight with lube. He was already straining against his pants and he was desperate to get off with you.

He watched with eager eyes as your hands travelled up your luscious body and squeezed your tits together, letting the flesh pop out over the top. How he wanted to bury his face on your chest, kissing and nuzzling the tender skin there. Or slide his cock between your tits, coating them in his essence.

Jensen had no idea how long he had been watching but you’d discarded the chiffon babydoll and bra you had one underneath when the first paywall came up. It was only $5 to keep on going and Jensen was definitely hooked enough to keep on watching. Plus his dick was now aching from how hard he was.

He was brought back to your image as you knelt on the bed, your hands dancing along your nearly naked body. The lighting had changed slightly, becoming slightly darker and more sensual as you prepared to go further into your show. After about a minute of you teasing the audience, waiting for everyone to join back in. ‘It’s so lovely to see so many of you interested in little ol’ me. Well… really I guess you’re actually more interested in this pretty little pussy aren’t you?’ You gripped your cunt over the thin material of your panties and slowly gyrated your hips as you rubbed yourself. ‘Don’t you worry Baby. I’m gonna give you exactly what you want.’

Jensen let out a soft gasp as you barred yourself to the camera. He definitely had to admit you really did have a very pretty little pussy. Even from the angle of the camera he could see your slick as it dripped out onto your thighs. His cock was pulsing against his stomach, firm and flushed with precum dribbling down from the tip. He was so hard he couldn’t bear being untouched anymore so he gingerly eased himself into the little hole of his fleshlight, wishing it was you.

He was so sensitive and the warmed silicone was almost too much as it contracted, pulling him in even further. His eyes were glued to you as you moved on the bed, leaning back so that the camera had a clear shot of your fingers swirling around in your slick, rubbing your precious little clit as you let out moan after moan and Jensen turning his volume up to the max, not wanting to miss a single sound coming from you.

Jensen had never felt this desperate to cum. He was so close to typing a message to you, begging you to cum for him so he could too. He refused to do it before he got to see the pleasure course its way over your body, but the familiar tightening in his gut had a different idea in mind.

He watched enamoured as you slipped one finger into your wet hole, and then another one, scissoring them together while your palm brushed against your clit. You were a heavenly sight as you fingered yourself harder and faster and Jensen was right on the edge about to let his own release overpower him. He was so freaking close, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the toy desperately but suddenly, your image was gone.

And just like that, so was Jensen’s orgasm.

He huffed as he approved the next paywall. It was slightly more expensive than the first but Jensen didn’t even pay attention to the price, he needed to see you again too badly.

When the stream resumed you were once again kneeling on the bed, this time with a cute little rabbit in your hands. You were lathering it up with lube, pumping it generously and Jensen twitched in excitement. He wanted to see your perfectly manicured hand wrapped around him.

You pouted towards the camera as you continued your work, pushing out your plump lips. ‘I wish you were here so I could have your cock but instead I guess I’ll have to settle for this one.’ Jensen could hear the faint squelch when you sank down onto the bulbous tip. Only the small flared base poked out and you smiled rakishly at the camera.

‘Tell me Baby. Do you wanna see me fuck myself like this or are you gonna let me turn on the vibrations?’ Jensen eagerly reached for the keyboard, typing his first message of the night.

Of course you can Honey. I wanna see you come apart for me.

He hit send before he could see anyone else's messages. He wanted to pretend it was only you and him in this show.

You must have read his message on your small tablet because a smile lit up your features. ‘Thank you Baby. You’re gonna make me cum so hard. I’m already so close.’

The soft hum of vibrations echoed through Jensen’s speakers and even louder were your moans as they fell from your lips. Jensen slid the fleshlight over his cock in time with your bounces and if he squinted he could almost pretend you were right there in front of him, bouncing up and down on his cock. H

He could tell you were close as you reached up to grasp your tits. ‘I’m gonna… please. Please let me cum Baby. God I need to. Please!’ You begged the camera and a string of approval filled the chat. ‘Thank you Baby. I -’ your sentence broke off half way through as your orgasm washed over you. Jensen could see your muscles tense and convulse as the pleasure rushed its way through you and he felt his own orgasm crash over him. His breath came in spurts as he filled the toy with his seed.

You stuck around a little longer, thanking your patrons and reminding them of your times and Jensen made a little mental note, promising that he wouldn’t miss any of them.

Tags will be added in a reblog.

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Next Part

Thanks for reading!

#jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #dark!jake jensen #dark!jake jensen x reader #dark!jake jensen x you #dark jake jensen #the losers

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desfraisespartout · 2 years ago

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10 People You Want to Know Better

Thank you for the tag @birdmenmanga <3

Relationship status: Single.

Favorite colors: Quite a few honestly. I like most shades of green and blue. But there is also raspberry pink that i can't look away from.

Favorite foods: Alfredo linguini

Song stuck in my head: Many. Depends on what I'm in the mood to listen to and to listen to in loops. One that remains good to get stuck in my head is Blue Fields from Final Fantasy 8 or Female Turbulence from Trials of Mana (Seiken Densetsu 3). (I have to admit I've started listening to the Genshin Impact OST despite not playing the game. Lovely music !)

Last thing you googled: Expiring date for condiments such as mustard... because of food poisoning i had little more than a week ago (I'm all better now). So, the fridge in under watch.

Time: 3:41 AM (I should probably go to bed... but I was still going down the rabbit hole that is YouTube)

Dream trip: Mmmm... I haven't travelled much to be honest. But as soon I get my driver's licence (one day), I'd love to visit the provinces of my country. And maybe see friends from over the border, and maybe overseas.

Last thing you read: Final Fantasy XV: The Dawn of the Future, the DLC project that got downgraded to a light novel. But I enjoyed the read.

Last book you enjoyed reading: That would be mangas... XD Magilumiere Co. Ltd is always such a treat to read. But I've been surprised by the new manga Ghostbuster Osamu.

Favorite thing to cook/bake: Apple pie in a ramekin. Quite easy to make and tastes delicious. You can use any fruits really. Just need butter, flour, a bit a water, a pinch of salt for the dough; and cornstarch and sugar (or cinnamon or vanilla) to coat the fruits in. (The only thing I don't like is getting butter or anything oily on my hands because I have a hard time washing it off. But the smell and the taste of that small sized pie make it worth it.)

Favorite craft to do in your free time: Drawing and crochet. Reminds me I haven't crochet in a while.

Most niche dislike: Mmmm................. I don't know ? I guess people vapping/smoking inside there apartment and just won't open THEIR windows ???? Like, I can smell you through the walls and the floor and it's driving nuts... Why do I have to open MY windows ???? But since I've stopped complaining since it didn't change anything and do open my windows, then there's the neighbour from the next block going out for smoke while walking and then STANDING close to my window. Why can't I just smell my own apartment ???????

Opinion on circuses: Never been to one. The video clips I could see of the Cirque du Soleil continue to impress me. The performers are athletes !

Do you have a sense of direction? Yes. I love to explore my options and find landmarks to help me locate myself. If time permits, I would go for walk surrounding my home/school/work, so I can update my mind map of where I am. Nowadays, it's mostly home/work. I try to remember the main roads/avenues and how they relate to each other so I can find myself in case my phone dies or something. In the cities, that would be knowing the alternative routes to get back home if my subway line malfunctions and I need to take the bus. I feel proud when I can help someone orient themselves.

----

Let's see. I'd like to tag @magicmetslogic @ennobaka @jer-tan @ruidosdeperro @electric016 @jeepers-its-the-void @riinoaheartilly @dq9 Also, tagging any followers to would love to answer as well <3

Have a wonderful day everyone !

#ask meme

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blysse-and-blunder · 3 years ago

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in lieu of a commonplace book: march madness

afternoon and evening, sunday, march 27, 2022

writing this on little breaks in between trying to produce a month's worth of writing in an evening! (give or take some time spent over the past week transcribing notes and discovering brand new research rabbit holes, and panicking). but we're not here to angst about that, we're here to talk abt fun stuff. because it gives me joy to connect media experiences with friends, lots of mutuals tagged in this one, sorry to take y'all's names in vain if you prefer to skip these long monologue posts!

reading this is very much a belated february note again, but finished james baldwin's if beale street could talk. there's a lot about this book that feels very ripped-from-the-headlines, as in, these are the same issues Black communities have been dealing with, as in, this book was published in fucking 1974 and it feels like nothing's even improved. still it's...beautifully written. not that you want to read racism and police brutality and the carceral state and rape culture beautifully written, but. baldwin's prose makes it bearable, and he threads that needle of having the first-person narrator express herself in incredible insights and poetry at times while still talking and sounding like a normal, very young and often frightened, human woman. so much love permeates the entire book, between families, between the main romantic couple, between Tish and her Fonny and their baby. pull quote:

" Time: the word tolled like the bells of a church. Fonny was doing: time. in six months time, our baby would be here. somewhere, in time, Fonny and i had met: somewhere, in time, we had loved; somewhere, no longer in time, but now, totally, at time's mercy, we loved."

second entry so i can start to cut down on the backlog, i finished listening to robin wall kimmerer's gathering moss audio book! i'd started braiding sweetgrass and knew i liked kimmerer's style and overall approach, but this one was easier to get from the library sooner. don't get me wrong, i value the work and expertise of a professional voice actor and audiobook reader, but hearing kimmerer read her own book added so much to the experience, probably bc it's such a personal topic for her. she infuses every scientific latin name for moss with so much warmth, so much relish-- and she believes the most earnest lines but adds a tinge of humor and at times reverence which removes whatever might have felt overly precious if it had to speak for itself. it still gets a bit precious sometimes, but the short length and at 1.25x speed got me through it without getting bogged down. i'll be thinking about that wealthy owner devastating his property's moss ecosystems for a while, and will be trying to recapture the feeling of listening to this bit from the last chapter, "myriad of synchronicities" especially, even longer.

"the combination of circumstances which allows it to exist at all are so implausible that Schistostega is rendered much more precious than gold....Its life, and ours, exist only because of a myriad of synchronicities that bring us to this particular place at this particular moment. in return for such a gift, the only sane response is to glitter in reply."

listening it's been a 24/7 orville peck bronco: chapters 1+2 lockdown over here lately. as discussed elsewhere with @switchoffthestars and @fisherkings, this album really is a case of oops! all bangers! but also, having a well-produced, well-performed, so fucking cohesive and satisfying track list. is this what happens when you only release a carefully-chosen eight tracks, you end up with stuff that works together so well? just when i think i've picked a favorite track, i'll relisten to another different one, or wake up with the hook of a third stuck in my head. honorable mentions to: curse of the blackened eye for the leaps in range and the upper octave stuff with those little ornaments and turns that are so sweet; hexie mountains for the opening guitar and the soaring plea on "and wouldn't it be nice if i could sleep in my own bed? wouldn't it be swell if i could get things off my chest?"; daytona sand for the energy! the opening bass note he sings on 'buddy'! the backing three-notes in the backing steel guitar!-- but i'm only going to link my beloved kalahari down.

like many high schoolers in fairly rural areas who didn't have better options, i had a brief country phase--and i still absolutely fuck with a lot of blue grass and appalachian stuff, and the classic oldies-- but this is country that i feel like, you know, i can trust, that i can relax into. thank you god for gay-ass country music.

watching sometime in the last month +/- i finished watching netflix's 2021's lupin series 2 with @hematiterings and began, on @dying-suffering-french-stalkers' recommendation, watching the 1970's anime lupin iii (the first part, the original old series). these are, it will surprise no one to learn, uh. different shows.

watching two reactions to the same source material, without reading that source material, feels like an exercise in deduction that's teaching me mostly what the original arsene lupin isn't, but i'm having a different kind of good time with each!

playing having a normal time on my first independent stardew farm, in that i did a little groundhog day scenario with day 21 of spring by continuing to accidentally close the game before saving and having to repeat everything (this still didn't allow me to complete the carp quest, the fishing mini game and i do Not get along still, even though i am now actually attempting the correct things in it); i lost a ton of spring crops by not getting them in in time and will have to sell my body to the mines to afford a cup of coffee, but also i can't stop thinking about it even though i'm very not taking the time to play any right now. for a long time, computer games felt like a Whole Thing that weren't worth the effort to boot up or the sensory overload required to play-- stardew has not, does not, feel that way, and that's nice. three months later, thanks for my birthday present again @pep-squad-lizzie <3

making planted some odds and ends from the produce drawer which were starting to sprout on their own, because it's spring and spring is about encouraging growth and also being a mad plant scientist. so far the tomato seedlings are raring to go, the green onion less so, and the garlic is too early to tell.

working on here's an ugly truth-- setting milestones and accountability goals with your friends (love and light to @yogurtforever again) only works if you then also set your own intermediate deadlines and actually work on the project consistently on your own! i'm bumping up a deadline (a meeting with my whole committee that we arranged months ago) without a finished piece of writing to show them, as promised, and even though the prof who's In Charge of me for this project has said she isn't worried, and that i can send it out later this week instead of tomorrow as promised, the psychic burden of how much i have to do still has me doing nosensical things and sweating at the prospect of Actually Writing. goddamit. how is it almost midnight, and i've only been looking up 16th century typefaces and welsh printers, instead of (again) Actually Writing

#in lieu of a commonplace book #ilcb #weekly roundup #each week we get closer to the 'weekly roundup' tag being less of a lie but this week is not that week

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copias-thrall · 4 years ago

Text

Cause I'm Young and I'm Here and So Beautiful

A look into the rise and fall of Mary Goore's flash-in-the-pan modeling career.

~12.5K Mary Goore/Reader *drug/alcohol use; mentions of past child abuse; brief homelessness; plot no porn; POV shift*

This fic was inspired by and is very loosely based on Aurelio Voltaire's early days in NYC in the 90s, though I have set it in Boston in the early aughts. 😊

Many thanks to the artists who did commissions for this! 🥰

One Way Streets

Mary stepped off the regional rail and gripped his backpack. He had $72.57 in cash rolled into his socks and a give-em-hell attitude.

When he’d packed his bag the night before, he wasn’t even sure if he’d go through with it, but he couldn’t stand being home anymore. Some of his friends had told him he was crazy.

"Three more months, dude. You got this. Just finish high school, then bounce."

But they didn’t have to live with his dad and the step-monster. Every day was a new indignity. Having them bitch about his music and his style was one thing—that he could have dealt with—but everything else had just kind of…escalated.

Now that the kiddies were older, they’d turned into gremlins. They’d somehow sensed that Mary wasn’t their beloved older brother—he was some sort of half other. They’d stopped questioning why "mom was so mean" to him and had accepted that she was because there was something wrong with Mary. They realized they could be little shits and blame everything on him.

And dad just didn’t care. He’d throw up his hands and say, "I have to live with her"—as if Mary wasn’t in the same boat.

Dad hadn’t stopped her when—in a rage—she’d smashed every single vinyl album Mary had owned because the twins ruined her nice tablecloth. He’d shrugged when she cut all Mary's guitar strings so he couldn’t play "the devil’s music." He’d held Mary back when she took a match and burned all his secret stuff that Mary kept under his bed—action figures, books, guitar mags, journals—in the backyard because he got detention for smoking. He hadn’t said a word when the police showed up after she came at Mary with scissors because he’d dyed his hair black and he’d pushed her away before she could scalp him.

Mary thought for sure he was going to get carted off to jail as she screamed about him terrorizing the family and being afraid he was going to kill her sons in their sleep, but the officers had just looked at her bored and told her being a teenager wasn’t a crime.

So, no: Mary couldn’t wait 3 more months.

He’d scraped together what money he had left from his secret shifts working as a busboy under the table at a local dive downtown, packed his backpack with the essentials, and walked the 5 miles to the train station instead of going to school.

Eighteen was 10 weeks away. He could fudge it for a few months, especially since he could already get away without using his fake ID to get into shows most of the time.

So, to the big city it was.

He shifted his weight and tried to pretend that he belonged here in Boston, but actually facing the busy streets was a lot different from looking at a bird’s-eye view map. He had a printout in his pocket, but he didn’t want to look like a doe-eyed tourist. So he set off down the seemingly labyrinthine streets in the direction he could have sworn was the correct one.

It wasn't.

When he came out a side alley into Faneuil Hall, he almost wondered if he'd gone through a fairy portal, since he was clear on the other side of town. Begrudgingly, he checked his creased map, and set out once more.

And ended up spit out by the State building.

Finding the hostel turned into a fraught adventure, and he got turned around several times more. When he tried to ask for directions, most people pushed past him while one lady shoved $5 at him. He used the cash to buy a hotdog, and it was the vendor who ultimately gave him directions in his thick, Southie accent.

Of course, making it to the hostel ended up being just part one. The rates were almost double what it stated online ("Sorry, honey—that site hasn’t been upgraded since the 90s."), and two nights were practically all his savings. Mary had thought he’d at least have a couple of days to find a job, not 36hrs.

He left the hostel, wondering for the first time if maybe he shouldn’t go back home…but he decided it was a nice day out. Surely there was some place he could hunker down. Just for the night.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the cops at every fucking turn telling him to move along. And any place out of line-of-sight seemed to already be inhabited.

He finally found a place behind some rocks in the Seaport where he didn’t think he’d be murdered in his sleep, curled around his backpack, and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Mary woke up damp from the dew and the morning sun streaming into his eyes. The birds were creating an awful racket, but Mary guessed it was as good an alarm clock as any.

He ran his fingers through his bird's nest of hair, and he made his way back to the South Station. The men’s room may have smelled like a sewage treatment plant, but at least it was free. He had expected it to be mostly empty at the crack of dawn, but it was full of commuters making that last run to the head before they had to take the train 2hrs out of the city for work.

And it was a sight: a bunch of suits with their fancy lattes washing their hands, and Mary in the corner trying to surreptitiously wipe down with paper towels under his Misfits t-shirt and his shredded jeans. At school, he’d have probably gotten into several altercations by now—no one would have let him just turn into Mary Goore without a fight—but this was Boston, and no one gave him more than a cursory glance.

Just another college kid.

It emboldened Mary to go full-out in the kind of way he had only done when going out to the punk shows downtown at night: kohl all the way around his eyes, and some on his cheekbones; mascara because his lashes are long and thick, and he knows it (his dad had said it made him look hard, and Mary had sneered that maybe that was what he’d been going for. But maybe it had been because he’d liked the way it had made his green eyes pop.); a smear of the step-monster’s fanciest matte lipstick on his full lips; and airplane glue in his hair to give it that lift.

He made a kissy face at himself in the mirror, and headed back out.

It was a nice Spring day—almost boiling in the direct sun—and it tempted Mary to wear only his battle vest, but even he kind of figured applying to jobs half dressed was a mistake.

He walked all over the city, trying not to get lost, looking for any kind of work—dishwasher, busboy, barback—but all he had to show for it was blistered feet and a raging appetite. The only good part of the day was that he noted any restaurant or bakery that looked like it might toss perfectly good food at the end of the day.

He and his friends had become experts at dumpster diving in his podunk town, and he felt confident that he had a good feel for a jackpot. Mary staked out a bakery and was rewarded with a find of "old" bagels. He shoved as many as he could into the nooks and crannies of his backpack before slinking off to the Commons to inhale at least two of them.

Cold, stale dough never tasted so good.

He watched the tourists and the professionals walk by in ones and in groups while he ran his bare feet through the grass. Some laughed with each other as they sauntered down the path while others seemed singularly intent on their ultimate destination. A pack of dogs ran and played with each other as their owners looked on fondly, and nearby the baseball diamond hosted a casual game.

Mary counted his lucky stars that his first week in Boston was April at its kindest—always mild during the day, even when it turned cloudy, and a few times even downright warm. The nights turned chilly, though, and it had Mary in more layers than an onion. If the birds or damp didn't wake him, his butt cramps from being curled in a tight ball all night did.

He spent those days walking around the city proper looking for work. He wasn't adventurous enough to make the leap across the bridges to Cambridge just yet, but his travels gave him a good sense on how the different sections of Boston connected—and showed him potential places to crash at night. He didn't even mind living off day-old garbage food and drinking from bubblers (he'd bought a water for the express purpose of reusing the bottle), but the barren wasteland that seemed to be the job market was beginning to weigh on him.

At home, he could always find a shit job if he was willing to put up with shit hours and ridiculous requests. Here, though, Mary was just one of many desperate people willing to do desperate work.

And he didn’t look particularly trustworthy or reliable.

@dipendancesld

Hashtag WTF

I’m scrolling through Insta on the T, and I’m way down the rabbit hole of hashtags. New content was at a minimum this morning (how can I follow accounts in triple digits and only see the same 4 posts?!), so I’d started with some art tags and ended up where I usually end up—trolling social media for blurry pictures of my boy.

His band has been a local staple for years—or at least that’s what he told me on our first date. I had just moved from New York after a nasty breakup, ready to start fresh, and I’d seen him at a coffee shop hanging posters for his next show in his leather jacket, asymmetrical Metallica crop top, and stomping boots.

Fresh had never looked so good.

Then, a few months back, an online publication had featured his band in the year’s 50 best bands "you’ve never heard of," and now the band's starting to gain traction.

He’s starting to gain traction.

Finding the new online content of him first has become a game the two of us play. We had to stop counting images posted from the popular fan accounts because Mary's now acquaintances with most of them, and I said it was hardly fair to snipe me that way. Mary had pouted—but it was to cover up his grin. So now we troll for the pictures of his latest gig or at his favorite haunts from either his casual fans or one of his new ones. I even have a whole range of hashtag typos saved if I really want to triumph, since Mary just doesn't have the attention span.

I usually win, though, by virtue of not keeping Rockstar Hours—and because Mary doesn’t have a smartphone. Mary delights in spending the wee hours while I'm sleeping finding new content, and I'll often wake to one he's pulled up on my laptop and a "suck it" sticky note stuck to my monitor.

(But I’m reigning supreme.)

There’s a thirst tag I sometimes comb through (for reasons), and today I’m desperate for that morning serotonin to keep me from dozing off, which is why I stumble across a particularly convincing cosplayer in some…risqué poses and outfits.

The dude is really good, and I have to admit he really does have Mary’s mannerisms down pat. He’s younger and a little skinnier than Mary is now, but his facial expressions are on point. I zoom in to see the contouring technique because he's using one of those filters to make it look old…and that’s when I sense something off. I can’t quite place my finger on it, but usually there’s an uncanny valley to his serious cosplayers, and this dude looks so real. He’s even 100% accurate with the mole placement, which is something I never see.

My heart does a flip-flop.

Is that…actually Mary?

Foundling

Mary's sixth night in the city, it rained. It was more of a brief Spring shower, but it was still enough to soak him and his backpack through. He shivered through the early morning hours until the sun came up, then he made his way to the Commons to lay his belongings—and himself—out into the sun to dry.

By midday, he had a slight sunburn across his nose, but most of his things were dryish—though the food was a soggy lost cause. He cut his losses and decided to buy a sausage from the hotdog vendor, even if that meant he was down to $52.37 in his sock bank.

It was the most amazing thing he'd ever eaten in his entire life (sometimes he still dreams of it), and he gobbled it down as he sat in the grass and watched the show of people pass by.

He could take today off from his job search.

Just another Groundhog Day of rejections.

A gaggle of kids about his age walked past, and he lit up when he saw them: studs and bright hair and cuffs and combat boots. They ran and shrieked and shoved at each other, and Mary had never felt such longing to be a part of something.

Not that nebulous feeling of "my world is out there somewhere," but "my world is right there if I can just get to it."

And he realized maybe he could.

These were his people.

Mary hopped off the bench and approached the boisterous group.

"Uh, hey…guys."

The pack stopped and looked him over, confused but not hostile.

"Oh hey, man" said a girl with green fins and a studded, leather jacket.

"Hey."

I have nowhere to go. Can I go with you?

"Sorry, I forgot your name."

"Oh, you don’t—"

A guy in a tight striped shirt, snake bites, and blue hair interrupted him.

"Shit, were you in my intro into film class last year?"

Mary was a high school dropout.

"Nah, dude. I’m new and shit."

…But he wasn’t stupid.

A curvy white goth with bleached blonde hair and a cream princess dress smiled at him.

"Aww, that’s rough, honey. If you think about it, they really ought to give transfers on-campus housing. It sucks to be so new and away from the action."

Mary nodded. "Yeah. Sucks."

"Well, we’re going to The Pit, wanna come?"

"If you guys don’t mind…"

"Fuck, the more the merrier!"

Mary smiled as they assimilated him into the group. He found out the goth’s name was Vanessa ("But call me Vanity."), green fins was Alexa ("Or Alex. I’m trying it out."), striped shirt was Billy, and the two other punks were Mandi (Manic Panic red) and Aaron (band tee, spiked collar).

No one laughed at him when he introduced himself as Mary or asked him why he had a girl’s name.

They took him onto the T at Charles MGH, and Mary marveled at the setting sun over the Charles River before the train ducked underground to barrel in Cambridge. At Harvard, they ushered him off the train and directly into The Pit, and Mary almost cried when he saw the pit rats there playing hacky sack, strumming guitars, and smoking cloves. Mary watched as his group high-fived, bumped chests, and hugged nearly everyone there before introducing him as if they’d known him for years.

He was shit at hacky sack, but he accepted a round on the guitar and shared a clove with a white girl who had a rat's nest of hair.

"Fuck their beauty stands," she said when she caught Mary staring.

Mary smiled and pointed to his own mess of hair. "Fuck ‘em," he repeated.

She cackled and handed him a brown bag with what he expected to be whiskey, but tasted like turpentine.

She laughed harder at his face as he coughed, and she pounded him on the back.

"Moonshine, dude. Lenny makes it in his bathtub."

"Which one is Lenny," Mary asked as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Oh, he’s not here. He goes to MIT. We have a strict trade agreement—booze for pot. I’m Katie."

Head fuzzy, Mary had made out with her until Aaron tugged on his arm.

"Shit dude, we gotta go before the T closes. You live close to here?"

"Uh…"

"Aww, I think he got into Lenny’s moonshine," said Vanity. "If he’s a transfer, I bet he’s at some shithole in Allston. You in Allston, honey?"

Mary just nodded.

"All right then," said Alex, taking charge. "We’ll put him up tonight. There’s no way he’s gonna make it back to Allston by himself, and I’ll be fucked if I’m trekking out there without a BU party to crash."

Mary wobbled slightly as Alex took his arm in his and led him to the T.

"Ok, we gotta go now or we’ll all be hoofing it."

They took Mary back to their dorm by the Hatch Shell and signed him in as a guest.

"Is this ok?" Mary asked warily—he didn't want to get kicked out in the middle of the night.

Mandi patted him on the back.

"We do it all time. No one really gives a shit. Vegan Mick dropped out 2 semesters ago and they don’t even check for his ID."

That night, Mary slept in the common room on a lumpy couch that was half as long as he was.

It was heaven.

The next morning seemed like the end, and Mary slumped as Vanity to sign him out. For one brief day he'd been a part of something, and now it was back to Mary, party of one. But Vanity took one look at his face and asked if he wanted to get breakfast at the dining hall.

Of course, he wanted to…but he thought of the dwindling cash in sock bank and hesitated. Vanity, bless her, misread his trepidation.

"It's on me, sweetie. I know most transfers don’t opt in. Too expensive when it’s not bundled. No worries, I got a ton of points I don’t use."

Alex and Aaron were already half done with their food when Vanity and he joined them, and they looked on in amusement as Mary ate half the breakfast buffet.

When the subject of classes came up, he shrugged off questions.

"None this morning."

Alex narrowed her eyes at him.

"What year did you say you were?"

"Sophomore."

"Not a freshman?"

Mary shook his head. "I’m not a freshman."

She seemed about to ask another question, so Mary quickly changed the subject.

"I thought I’d spend the day applying for jobs. You guys know of any place that’s hiring?"

"No work study?"

"No."

"What kind of work you looking for?"

"Shit, anything. I’ll sweep the fucking floors."

They bandied about ideas, places for Mary to try, but no one had any leads. Too soon, some unknown gong had them scurrying to get to class.

Mary suddenly panicked.

"Hey, do you guys mind if I spend the night again? I mean…"

"Yeah, sure," said Vanity. "Aaron?"

"Yeah, man. Meet me after class and I'll swipe you in."

It apparently was a time-honored tradition, passed down from upperclassmen to underclassmen, on gaming the guest system. Most kids used it to essentially move their significant others into their dorm rooms, but a handful every year used it to give haven to others who had questionable housing situations.

So, just like that, Mary had a place to rest his bones.

@dilfpassing

A Deeper Look

I’m so intent on scrolling through the comments on the grainy pics—which I'm sure now are actual scans—that I completely miss my stop, and I have to put my phone away so I can wheeze lightly jog my way to where I work as a receptionist at an alternative hair salon.

It’s really important that I start a good hour before we open so I can return any calls left on our voicemail first thing in case I can fit anyone in today. Which means I have to shelve my find for now, much to my irritation.

Mornings are super-busy because apparently there are some people in the world that like getting up with the sun and want everything done by noon. (June Cleaver’s salon lets me get away with a lot—like coming to work in denim short-shorts and ripped tights, free hair colors, and a snarky attitude—but late start times aren’t one of them.) I honestly don’t have room in my brain to obsess about the pictures because I’m too busy answering calls, making coffee, settling accounts, and giving the new customer spiel for the 57th time to a walk-in.

It’s just after midday, when Penny, the shampoo girl, collects my cash for the salon-wide sandwich run, and I finally have a moment to breathe. And obsess.

I take out my phone again, and I have to retrace my steps because of course the app has refreshed, which is why Sonia has the time to look over my shoulder.

"Missing dream boy’s dick so much you gotta spend your lunch hour ogling pics of him on the internet?"

I zoom in on the one of maybe!Mary in his underwear.

"Who does that look like to you?"

Sonia makes a guh sound in her throat and backs away.

"I don’t need to see your intimates!"

"That’s the thing! It’s not mine!"

"Your boy’s nudes get leaked??"

I wave my arms around.

"I don’t freakin’ know! They may not even be him. Fucking. C’mere and help me out!"

Sonia warily creeps back over, and so does Ryan, since all the yelling has attracted him.

The three of us peer over the phone as I scroll through the images again.

By the time Penny comes back with lunch, we’ve gone back and forth on who’s in the images—Mary or a fake—and I haven’t been able to do any actual research. The afternoon rush starts, and I have to table the whole thing again, having made no progress at all.

It isn’t until near-closing, when most of the other stylists have gone home—and it’s only June who does the post-work crowd—that I can really dig into the matter.

A deep dive and a couple of defunct, decade-old forums later, I find that what I took as an aspirational hashtag was actually the name of a zine called "Heroes."

There’s like, zero online trail about it—except for a few other grainy scans of other pages of articles, poetry, concert pictures, and art—but it seemed to be an early aughts missive for local underground culture and color.

It still doesn’t explain why Mary’s in there in various states of undress and poses.

Or why Mary has never said a word about it to me.

Stripped Bare

Mary settled into a sort of routine. He spent most days looking for a job—any job—with his backpack full of food from their dining hall. Most nights he rotated couches on different floors so the RAs didn’t notice that he basically lived there.

He made friends with Vegan Mick for about 5 seconds until Mary had eaten an entire Rotisserie chicken from 7-11 in front of him. Mick had launched into a whole spiel, and Mary had pointed out that Mick's jacket and Docs were made of leather. He’d only meant it as a joke—a callout in answer to a callout, like he'd do with his friends back home—but Vegan Mick had turned purple, then iced Mary out every time he saw him after that.

Oops.

The brief friendship had lasted long enough, however, for Mick to give Mary some tips and tricks of being homeless.

Homeless.

That had been a tough pill to swallow. Until Vegan Mick had put Mary’s situation like that, Mary had just thought of himself between places.

But it was true: he didn’t live anywhere. He skated by on the kindness of his new friends, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the ruse of "transfer student who didn’t like his shithole apartment and was too busy job searching to concentrate on classes."

He still spent a few nights a week finding an out-of-the-way place outside to hunker down in or huddling in with Katie and a few of the other gutter punks under their boxes in the corners of the T stations. He knew they would have been more than happy to make room, anyway, but Mary always emptied his backpack of all the pilfered dining hall food for distribution amongst them.

It honestly wasn't so terrible now that he had friends and a warm place to go on cold or rainy nights, but.

He needed an actual place to live. To afford an actual place to live, he needed a job. To get a job, he needed a place to live.

It seemed like a catch-22, and he began to despair that he’d never get ahead…until Mandi offered him a leg up.

Mary was sitting on the grass in the Commons in the shade, thinking that with summer coming up, maybe he could fudge it until the gang came back in September. There was always Katie and The Pit, and Mary was sure he could chip in somehow.

Mandi sat down next to him.

"I thought that mess of hair was you, Mare."

"Hey, Mandi. What’s kicks?"

"You still looking for a job?"

Mary put his head in his hands and sighed.

"Don’t remind me."

"You over 18?"

Just last week. But Mary hadn’t said, since they thought he was a Sophomore.

"Yeah."

"Wanna be at least 21?"

Mary grinned at her.

"That’s what my fake ID says."

She laughed, a tinkling thing.

"You got anything against strip clubs?"

Mary furrowed his brows at her.

"Uh…what’s the right answer here?"

She shoved him playfully.

"Do you want a job?"

"Yeah?"

"Then say no."

"No. No problems with strip clubs." He squinted at her. "Are they looking for male strippers?"

She laughed again.

"Definitely not." She canted her head at Mary. "I mean, you're very pretty, Mare. I could probably put you on as one of the girls…even with these triple As," she flicked playfully at his nipple, which had him grunting and batting at her, "but I was thinking more behind the scenes."

Mary held up his arm and made a weak muscle.

"I don’t think I’d be much of a bouncer, Mands."

"You said you’d wash dishes, sweep floors and shit, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, the club I work at—"

"The club at you what now?"

Mandi gave him a strange look.

"Yeah. The strip club I work at."

Mary’s eyes bugged out.

"As a…waitress?"

"As a stripper, Mary. Duh." At his dumbfounded look she shook her head. "It’s kind of extra credit, as a dance major. I’m going to turn it into my thesis. Plus, I make hella bank."

She swept her arm across the park that made up her college "campus."

"How else do you think I can afford this rock-and-roll lifestyle? Not all of us are here on scholarship or mom and dad’s dime."

She tilted her head at him.

"I thought you’d get it."

When Mary didn't respond, she touched his shoulder.

"Mare. I know you don't go here."

"W-what…? I…"

He looked at her, wide-eyed as the blood drained from his face.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm not gonna tell anybody. Not if you don't want me to."

Mary looked down. "Thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You know that means I've got no address."

Mandi bumped his shoulder and waved his words away.

"A lot of the girls dance. Paddy is used to dorm rooms as addresses. You can use mine."

Mary looked at her, hoping he could convey every ounce of gratitude he was feeling.

She grinned and punched him in the shoulder.

"So, you up for it? Sweeping floors and bussing tables?" She leveled a look at him. "Cleaning up puke?"

Anything.

"Fuck, I’m desperate, Mands. I’ll hold their hair back if it means a paycheck."

"That’s the spirit!"

***

Mary was sure Patrick was part of the mob—or at least in cahoots. The guy had taken one look at Mary’s ID and had said, "But how old are you really?" and Mary had said, "Nineteen."

Patrick had thrown up his hands. "Well, you ain’t gonna be serving alcohol anyway, kid. Your job is to do whatever I tell you. Some asshole breaks a bottle, you clean up the glass so the girls don’t hurt themselves. Some idiot ralphs all over the toilet seat, you scrub the shit out of that fucker. A bachelor party leaves a table a hot mess, you better be out there clearing off the table for the next one, got it?"

Mary had nodded.

"You show up at 5 to help the girls set up the bar. You stay til whenever it takes to close down—but you only get paid 'til 2am—and you get an hour to eat, unpaid. You don’t bother the girls, and," Patrick had leaned in, "you don’t steal from me."

Mary had gulped and nodded emphatically.

Patrick had jabbed a finger at him. "That includes the booze. If I get fucked because some snot-nosed, underage kid is drinking with my good friends Jim and Johnnie, I’m gonna be very put out."

"Got it, sir."

"Don’t call me sir. I’m Paddy to my friends, so you can call me Patrick."

"Yes, Patrick."

Patrick had looked him over.

"You get paid as an independent contractor just like the girls, so you gotta deal with your own taxes, you got that? I’ll start you at $10 an hour."

Mary’s eyes had gone wide. Back home he was lucky to get 5.

"Ten…?"

Patrick had tilted his head again.

"No, you’re right, 12. Do a good job, and I’ll think about raising it to 15."

Mary had to physically stop his jaw from dropping.

"You do weeknights for now so if you fuck up it’s not that much of a problem. If you don’t fuck up and the girls don’t hate you, you can get weekends. Deal?"

Mary had sat up straighter. "Deal." He’d held his hand out, but Patrick had just looked at it until Mary pulled it back into his side.

"Ariel vouched for you, so I’m giving you a shot. Don’t make her regret it."

Mary had shaken his head as Patrick had handed him some forms to fill out.

"Come back at 4 tomorrow with these and we’ll get you started. Now, get out, I got shit to do."

Mary had taken the forms and skedaddled.

Mandi was outside waiting for him, all smiles.

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah, but fuck—your boss is scary."

"Nah, he’s a teddy bear."

***

The job was awful.

The puke was an almost nightly occurrence, and by the end of the first week, little cuts covered Mary’s hands from the broken glass. The customers were loud, rowdy, and acted as if their mother was going to clean up after them.

Mary swore he would never get the beer smell out. It now lived in his soul.

One dude punched Mary and broke his nose for no reason Mary could tell before the bouncers dragged the guy away. The girls gave him some tampons to stop the bleeding, and Mary finished his shift.

Patrick paid Mary in cash at the end of every week with a "It’s your job to report that, not mine," and at the end of the month, Patrick bumped Mary up to $15/hr. He worked 5 days a week because, according to Patrick, "The Lord gave us a day of rest, and you get one day off per week."

Mary never reported a single cent to the IRS.

The girls loved him, and joked that Patrick had gotten them a pet. They showed him winged eyeliner and smokey eyes and how to contour. They guffawed when they watched him try out their shoes like a newborn deer. On slow nights, they tried to show him pole techniques.

He saw the gang less and less because by the time they were getting out of class, he was going into work, and when he was done work, they were crawling into bed. Fortunately, the desk sitters seemed to forget that he wasn’t an on-campus "student" and didn’t even bother signing him in anymore. There were a few sticklers, but Mary found that—while back home he was less than scum—here, he attracted all the right kinds of attention…and a smirk with the right compliment went a long way.

By the time their school year ended, Mary had saved up $1,000 (and he needed to transfer his money out of sock bank and into the ripped lining of his jacket).

Even though they didn't know just how much they'd saved him, Mary showed up on the last day as thanks to help them all move their stuff into family cars or rented trucks. They hugged him goodbye and said to ring them next semester.

Mandi bopped him on the nose and told him to keep his nose clean.

Mary took a sublet in Allston with 2 BU kids and a Berkley grad student. The "room" was a closed-in porch with a sleeping bag left by the last resident—but it was $400 a month until September, utilities included.

At first, Mary didn't know why the gang was so snobby about Allston, but the summer seemed to be one continual party. It didn't matter what day Mary got up, there were always broken beer bottles and stale beer on their front stoop, and the apartment had a designated watering can for washing away the vomit that dripped down from the top porches to their own.

But he took it in stride, and when he wasn’t at the strip club or sleeping, he was partying with the BU kids, or letting the Berkley grad show him better string fingering techniques.

Mary still tried to get out to The Pit with what groceries he could spare, but Katie had moved on with some of the others to do a protest tour with an activist street band that had come through town, and without her or the gang, it made Mary feel lonely.

By the end of the summer, Mary had saved up enough money for first, last, and security. He even had some left over to buy more than ramen and some new clothes. To Mary, it felt like a million dollars. He rented a garden-level apartment in the cheap part of Jamaica Plain for September 1st and spent that entire day with the BU dudes driving around in their rented truck for Allston Christmas’s best furniture finds.

Mary ended up with a mattress that he hoped on a wish and a prayer didn’t have bedbugs, a mismatched set of dishes, plastic drawers that were slightly warped, and a broken futon frame he swore he would fix. Throw in a few sets of slightly used string lights, and Mary’s cave felt downright homey.

When the gang got back, he simply told them he’d dropped out.

"Yeah, I just don’t think college is for me. Music’s my real passion, you know?"

Alex had groaned.

"I knew that Berkley kid was gonna be a bad influence on you."

Mary shrugged.

"My grades were shit anyway. But I’m still around, you know. The strip club’s only a block from campus."

"Because we saw you so much then," deadpanned Billy.

"Hey! Stop piling on Mary," said Vanity. "He’s following his path."

Mary shot her a wide smile.

"Thanks, Vanity."

Patrick finally gave him a little more leeway with his days off, and Mary started taking Saturday night to join the gang in Harvard Square for the shadow cast of Rocky Horror. One of Aaron’s classmates, Amber, was in it, and they all wanted to support her.

Mary felt that something again. That thing that told that this was his place and his people. This eclectic group who got up in front of strangers every week in their underwear for free enthralled Mary.

He and Amber bonded immediately, and Mary began going even without the gang. The cast welcomed him in as an honorary groupie, and Mary's friendship with the gang waned. There was still Mandi to cavort with at the strip club, but now when Mary wasn't there, he was at any one of the Rocky crew's apartments getting high and playing dress up.

"You’ve got such a Look, Mare," sighed Amber. "I’d kill for your cheekbones."

"I’d kill for your tits."

She slapped him playfully. "Don’t be gross."

"No, I’m serious. Someone once put it in my head that I'd be a hot chick."

The girls had giggled and proceeded to dress him up in bras and corsets with cutlets. They added a wig, and the glo-up surprised even Mary.

Still buzzed, they went out for girl’s night and hit up all the bars in Fenway and flirted their way to free shots from the dude bros before batting their falsies at bouncers to let them into the clubs ahead of the line and without the cover.

The cutlets eventually became a nuisance—and soon they were all flapping them about above their heads as they danced—but Mary had loved the feel of the lace and satin corsets against his skin.

When they’d all collapsed in a pile at the end of the night, Mary wondered if they’d tell him where to get some lingerie for himself.

***

By August, Mary was ready to quit the strip club.

He was tired of cut fingers (they were making it hard to play the guitar he’d bought), the drunks, and the sick everywhere. Now that he had a little cushion, he thought maybe he could at least find something with better hours.

Mandi had graduated and was well into a summer internship at Disney in hopes they’d bring her on as a dancer.

Alex had also graduated and moved out to LA to make it as a film editor.

Vanity and Aaron had started dating after finals, and they had moved in together in Cambridgeport for their last year.

Billy had stopped going to classes before dropping out altogether. No one seemed to know what happened, and when they called his home, his mother just said he was unavailable.

There didn’t seem to be much reason to stick around the Grid anymore, and it was a bitch of a commute back to his place if he wasn’t going to hang out with the Rocky crew. He landed a job at a record store that was walking distance to his apartment.

Patrick seemed surprisingly sad to see him go, saying, "Ah, the good ones smart up," and gave him a $500 bonus for not "fucking up."

Tim, one of the older Rocky people, turned out to not live too far from him, and when Mary started hanging out there, so did the party.

Now that Mary was no longer shackled by the strip club’s hours, his world opened a few more degrees. He spent his nights dressing up while he watched the cast rehearse. (When he showed them a move or two he learned from the women at the club, they tried to get him to do a guest star as Frank. But Mary had shaken his head and said that wasn’t the kind of performing he wanted to do.)

When they weren't rehearsing, they dragged Mary to TT The Bear’s, The Middle East, and The Milky Way Lounge for underground shows. They took him to fetish night at ManRay after a trip to Hubba Hubba for pleather and lingerie, and Mary made a lot of new friends.

Sometimes, Mary would show up to work straight off a night out in his club clothes, eyeliner smudged and lipstick smeared. It should have got him fired, but his boss just shrugged.

"I used to keep rockstar hours too."

Mary still wore all his old vestiges—his battle vest and his ripped jeans—it was just that now he sometimes added a corset and heels.

Wherever Katie was now, he hoped she knew he was still fucking their beauty standards.

ry.omen Insta

Answer Me This

I practically vibrate the entire way back to our place. I'm still trying to wring information out of the internet like it's too-wet clothes, but the only thing I accomplish is making myself motion sick on the bus, so I put my phone back in my pocket and breath through my nose.

When I get home, Mary is sprawled across the couch in his pjs with various limbs hanging over sides and edges as he watches some extreme sport show on my laptop.

I wonder if he just got up, but I see the start of dinner on the stove, so I decide not to snark at him.

"Hey," he says without looking up.

I am, however, gonna need some answers on "Heroes."

I gently close the laptop, and he meets my eyes.

"What?"

I climb onto the couch, and Mary’s limbs recede like vines to make room for me as I scroll through my phone to my photo app where I’ve saved screenshots.

"Lucy," I say in a terrible accent, "you have some ‘splaining to do!"

Mary squints at me and takes my phone, his expression morphing into one of surprise.

"Shit, babe. Where’d ya find these??"

"So they are you!"

He chuckles.

"Christ…I haven't thought about these in fucking years."

"Mind telling me what the fuck?" I ask, my hands on my hips.

I'm only half joking.

Mary grimaces at me.

"Ah."

"I'm gonna need more than that, mister."

He rubs the back of his neck.

"Fuck, you know those were hard times for me."

I know about his family, the homelessness. I know he tried out a lot until he found a life that fit. He'd given me the overviews with occasional anecdotes filled with names I never remembered.

But none of them included naughty pictures.

I worm my way under his arm.

"Yeah, I know, Mare."

His hand strokes down my arm.

"I mean, shit. I was kinda an asshole, you know?"

I wrap an arm around his chest.

"You're still kind of an asshole, Goore."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

When he doesn't say more, I poke him hard in the side.

"I’m literally dying here."

He laughs a little.

"Fine. But you gotta remember you asked."

Model Behavior

One day, Mary was walking down the street on his way to drinks with the new friends he'd made the weekend before. It was a good day. He wasn’t hungover as fuck, his makeup was only smudged artfully, and he was pretty sure he was going to get laid.

A guy in a leather jacket and tight jeans maybe a few years older than Mary stopped him on the street.

"Hey, man! I love your style."

Mary batted his eyelashes at him. "Thanks, dude."

"You ever think of dark modeling?"

Mary squinted his eyes at him.

"Dark what now?"

"You know—modeling but like," he gestured up and down Mary’s form, "for dark beauties. Show the world beauty isn’t cookie cutter."

"For like what? A website or some shit?"

The guy dug into his pocket, pulled out a card case, and handed one to Mary.

Heroes Greg Karson, Photographer/Web Design Butera School of Art

Actually, Mary had heard of this. It was a zine about the local happenings around town—concerts, art shows, parties, etc. There was a stack of them next to "Rrriot!" in the record shop. He’d flipped through one occasionally, mostly interested in the band reviews.

"We’re really on the lookout for anyone with the right look. You know, wear stuff you already own."

"So like a street fashion spread?"

"Well, we might do a little more with it, but—you know how it is. Most of the budget goes toward printing costs."

Mary perked up.

"Would I be paid?"

Greg laughed.

"Peanuts, my dude. But yeah. Even if it’s a T token. You interested, then?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Mind if I take a few test shots."

Mary smirked at Greg.

"How do you want me?"

"Just natural."

Putting his hands in his pockets, Mary arched his back and gave Greg his best snotty hipster face.

Greg dug out a digital camera from his carrying case and took a dozen or so pictures of Mary from different angles while telling him to turn this way or that.

Afterwards, the two of them huddled over the camera and scrolled through the shots.

"Aw yeah, this one. I love the attitude. The guys are gonna love it. You have a number where we can reach you?"

Mary gave him the number of the record shop. (His apartment had a phone, but he’d never gotten around to wanting to pay for service.)

Later, he and Amber looked up the Angelfire website on the back of the card. It was one page that contained the mission statement, bios of the creators, and locations to pick up the zine.

"Omigod—you’re gonna become a famous model, Mare!"

"Yeah, right. You know most of it ends up in the trash, right?"

But when Ben called, Mary said he was game. He directed Mary to a co-op in a converted warehouse in Dorchester, and Mary brought his favorite clothes in a borrowed duffle.

A girl in cat pajamas opened the door and pointed at a set of metal stairs with her cereal spoon.

On the second floor, Mary found Greg setting up a makeshift studio. A girl with multiple piercings and yarn dreads leaned against the wall in her black babydoll dress.

Mary sidled up to her.

"You here to model, too?"

She gave him an unimpressed once-over.

"I’m the art director, asshole."

Mary flushed hard as she turned to Greg.

"Couldn’t find one with brains?"

She turned back to Mary.

"I don’t know if you thought this would be a good way to meet chicks or what, dude. But I’m letting you know right now that I’m here on my day off to make sure this adheres to our aesthetic, so if you're not serious, fuck off."

Mary rubbed the back of his neck.

"Shit, sorry. I was expecting a dude named Ben."

She waved her hand in the air as if dispelling Ben.

"The Bens are morons. Good idea, terrible execution. I’m here to make sure we remain true to the idea of 'Heroes,' so don’t fuck up my shoot." She gave him a once over. "Christ. You have any experience?"

Greg turned from where he was testing the white balance.

"Angelique, stop harassing the talent. We get it, you have a degree from RISD."

Angelique snorted.

"As if I don't hear you going on and on about being a professional photographer. 'Hey, lemme shoot your portfolio, baby.' Whatever. As if we're not your only professional credit."

"Hey—you wanted a photographer for peanuts? You got me. You wanted models for peanuts? You got him."

Mary gave her his full snaggle-toothed grin.

"I take T tokens."

Angelique sighed, then pasted on a smile.

"Hi! So happy you’re here!" Her smile drooped. "You got your wardrobe in there?"

"Yeah."

Mary handed her the duffle, and she handed him release forms.

"Here: sign these"

She pawed through his offerings.

"Not bad, not bad." She pulled out a corset and his heeled boots. "We'll keep you in your jeans and have you wear your jacket over your corset. Cool?"

Cool.

The shoot was as professional as a shoot in a warehouse in what Mary was taking to usually be a living room could be. Angelique directed Greg with what she wanted. Greg called out positions and expressions for Mary to pose in.

It was surprisingly hard work, and by the end of a solid hour, his smirking lip was getting tired. Angelique and Greg scrolled through the shots, murmuring to themselves and nodding.

Mary waited—greeting at the other inhabitants as they squeezed by on their way either up or down—until Angelique approached him.

"That’ll do. You mind if we post on our website?"

Mary preened.

"Yeah, that’s kosher."

She handed him a pen and pocket notebook.

"Write down a quick bio."

He scribbled down a quick elevator pitch

Into general skulking and metal \m/

and handed the notebook back to her.

"Great, thanks."

She handed him a $20 bill, her eyes skimming him up and down.

"Next time we should show off those hip bones. Just jeans, I think."

Mary perked up. "Next time?"

"We’ll call you."

***

"Omigod, omigod!"

Amber perched on the record store counter, flipping through "Heroes," as Jon peered over her shoulder.

"Mary…look at you!"

Mary tried to swallow his smug smile.

Failed.

"Yeah. I’m hot shit, ain’t I?"

She bopped him on the nose with the newsprint.

"Don’t be vain."

He showed her his toothy smile.

"I like to think of it as confidence."

"So did Icarus."

Mary snorted and went back to putting prices on the new CDs.

"The camera loves you," said Jon, who was always quiet and reserved as you please…until he put on Frank’s corset and heels.

Mary had tried flirting with him, but Jon always ducked his head and played it off.

"Thanks, man," said Mary, giving him a softer smile.

"So??"

"So what, Amber?"

"Are you gonna do it again?"

Mary shrugged.

"I mean, if they call me, sure."

But he was kind of hoping they would.

When the next issue came out weeks later, Mary stared at the cybergoth on the pages and felt himself deflate. Listlessly, he thumbed through the delicate print, barely skimming the section devoted to the World/Inferno Friendship Society’s set he’d been at the week before.

He set it down with a sigh before he picked up his guitar and plucked out a tune he was trying to coax into a riff.

By the time a Ben called again, Mary had given up the modeling thing as a one-off.

"Hey, dude—thought maybe you guys forgot about me," Mary said in a teasing tone.

The Ben on the other end chuckled.

"It’s like herding cats to get shit out. Nah, dude—we definitely want you to be one of our regulars. You in for next Saturday?"

He was.

***

Over the course of a year, "Heroes" had Mary come out multiple times for shoots. Mainly, Mary wore his own clothes and did his own makeup, but occasionally, Angelique wanted something specific.

"How comfortable are you with boudoir shots?"

"With what?"

"Like a pinup, but more…saucy than sexy."

I'd pose nude if you paid me enough.

(Sure, he was a noodle boy, but he knew he had the goods.)

"Yeah, I’m cool with that."

Angelique brightened at him.

"Great!"

She picked up a set of complicated leather garters and thrust them at him.

"Put these on."

Mary had only ever worn lace garters—mostly out to clubs, but occasionally under his ripped jeans for an extra pop—but he found he liked these even more, liked the way they emphasized his thighs.

"Hey—where’d you get these…?"

(He was already thinking of what he could pair them with for goth night.)

"Local leatherworker. He mostly does pieces for Renn Fairs, but he'll also do custom. I can give you his info."

She led Mary into what was clearly someone's bedroom.

"Don't fuck anything up, or Joye will never let us use this again."

Mary shot her his best shark smile.

"Hey, I only mess up the sheets if someone asks."

Angelique gave him a flat look and called for Greg.

(But when he draped himself over the bed and told Greg to "Paint me like one of your French girls," Mary could have sworn she almost smiled.)

On one memorable occasion, she brought in a guy whose rope bondage demo she watched at a sex convention.

"Put on some of that lingerie and we'll truss you up. You ok with that, Goore?"

Mary ran his fingers over the coils and gave her a wolfish smile.

"You know I'm game for anything."

She gave him a vulpine smile of her own then, and she looked down at him from the height of her platformed boots.

"Good. I thought you should be submissive for once."

Mary had no witty rejoinder for that.

He listened with interest as the guy carefully explained what he was going to do, complete with pictures, and he relaxed easily into the process. (They put bunny ears on him, and it would be much, much later that he got that particular joke. Well played, Angelique.)

The ropes hadn’t let him do much posing, but Mary had kind of liked the constriction, and his thoughts were already on asking Amber to help him create a more versatile version for fetish night.

He’d left that day with a new kink…and the guy’s number.

"Why not just do one big shoot?" he asked another time. "Get it all done in one big bang!"

Angelique held up his garments to eyeball over him.

"Honey, we never even know if there's gonna be a next issue. The Bens spend most of the time arguing. My god you should hear them—Ben bankrolls the whole thing, so he says he should get final say on shit, and Benji wants total artistic control because it was his idea, because 'he's the graphic designer', and because it's his Kinko's employee discount they use."

She gave Mary a curled-lip smile as she tossed a few items at him.

"In the end it's this bitch you're looking at who gets shit done."

Mary began to change (they were long past modesty).

"How'd you get involved?"

"Went to school with Benji."

"Ben too?"

"Neg. The Bens are childhood friends. Ben works some cushy start-up job, so Benji lets him bankroll them both. Rent, utilities—everything. I love Benji to death, but he's a giant mooch."

"Shit, that must be nice."

Angelique shrugged. She stood back to appraise Mary's look.

"It's fucking lame. But it least it gets us fucking paid."

Mary didn't say I'd do this for free. Instead, he struck a pose and said, "I'm just happy for the exposure."

Angelique rolled her eyes and went to fetch Greg.

***

That year and a half would become a nonstop party with Mary as one of the VIPs; he wouldn't say no to anything—be it casual sex, club appearances, or whatever drug the current pretty thing was offering him in the bathroom.

But recognition started slow.

At first, it was customers who would leaf through the zine and recognize Mary.

Then, it was the occasional scenester who’d stop him on the street in JP as he walked about, and Mary would pose for grainy cell phone pics.

Soon, he was being approached at shows and clubs. The first time it happened, Mary was high off his new infamy and ready to please. A woman in a black bandage bra and pleated skirt with bondage straps approached him, and Mary was already thinking of what he could do with those.

"You look like that guy in ‘Heroes’!" she'd shouted to him over the music.

Mary had flashed her a crooked smile and leaned in.

"Maybe I am the guy in ‘Heroes’."

She'd given him an exaggerated once over before sidling closer with hooded eyes.

"I dunno…you're wearing way more clothes."

Mary had pulled his mesh top down by the collar in a tease as he'd curled over her.

"Take me somewhere more private and I’ll let you do a comparison."

She'd compared him all night.

And that was before he and the other "Heroes" models formed their own posse.

The Bens had thrown a BBQ and had invited everyone they'd ever met. There were people packed into their little 2 bedroom in Brighton, spilling down the back stairs, and equally packed into the little square of shared backyard. Ben had taken the 12-pack of 'Gansett beers Mary had brought, then introduced him to the other dark models.

"Now you're all here!" said Ben. He slung his arm around Mary. "Guys, this is Mary. Mary this is Mayhem, Lesley, Lola, and Bryan."

Mayhem was a rivethead, and Mary took to him instantly, but he was wary of the others. Lesley was the cybergoth who'd been in the first issue after him, and Mary still felt a bit salty at them, even though Mary knew by now the Bens rotated the models. Lola, the romantic goth, reminded him enough of Vanity that he felt guilty for losing touch with her and had him projecting a little. Bryan was a metalhead, so: competition.

Mary had thought they'd get along like cats and water, but weed, booze, and "Never Have I Ever" went a long way to creating a shared bond.

And there it was again. That pull. The magnetic force telling him that he'd found the place he was supposed to be. They quickly coalesced into their own pack, calling themselves the "Deathbutantes" (because they always killed it when they debuted for the night).

It had been rare for Mary to miss Friday and Saturday night shenanigans with the Rocky crew, but now, every night was Friday night. There was always a show or a concert or club that one of them knew about—and if they couldn't get lucky with the local color, they'd just go home with each other.

Mayhem taught Mary what Lola jokingly called the "grab a bat" dance, and the two of them cut quite the picture on the dance floors.

Lesley took to Lola, and the two of them could always be counted on for scintillating conversation in dark corners when Mary's limbst needed a break from flailing about.

The clubs weren't really Bryan's scene—take him to a sticky hole in the wall with concrete floors and a stage close enough to feel the sweat from the bands, and he was in heaven—but he liked to come along to hang. He'd drink PBRs, rub Lola's feet when she invariably abandoned her heels for the evening, and argue with Mary about the purity of death metal.

Mayhem and Lola weren't really into live music of the screaming kind, so—while Lesley, Bryan, and Mary bounced off each other in the mosh pits—they'd save a "home" base at one the bartops.

Amber noticed Mary's diminishing presence and stopped by the record shop to call him out.

"So you're not dead! Could've fooled me."

Mary was organizing the albums into order, and he grunted at her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm a cad. I'll make it up to you."

"You missed game night."

"Sorry. Jethro Tull played some tiny venue in nowhere Mass, and Bryan was salivating. I mean, Jethro Tull. Can you blame me?"

He looked at her, arms out wide in supplication. But she just blinked at him.

"You have no idea who Jethro Tull is, do you?"

"Sorry, dude. But christ, Mare. You should have invited me. I'd've gone. Maybe I would have even liked them. Now you'll never know."

"I could just lend you an album."

"Nope! The moment passed. Too late!"

Mary riffled through the stock and shoved a Jethro Tull CD into her hands.

She tapped it against her thigh.

"So, when do I get to hang?"

"I can get us into 80s night free."

"No, I mean, with your cooler friends. Your 'murder models', or whatever."

"You wanna hang out with the Deathbutantes?"

Amber scrunched her nose.

"That's so fucking pretentious."

Mary kind of liked it.

"Dunno if they're really your scene."

"Oh? And what's my scene?"

"Musical theater on crack."

She mock gasped at him, "Called out!" before smacking him with the CD. "Whatever. You love musical theater on crack."

Mary draped his arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah, I do. But I don't live it, you know? You guys have your niche—and fuck…I love to visit—but it's not mine."

Amber looked up at him, her expression serious.

"So the Dumbutantes are your niche?"

Mary shrugged and went back to shelving.

The Rocky crew had been good to him. They'd taken him under their wing, no questions asked, and helped him realize things about himself. Tim had taken him to the ER when Mary had come down with a serious case of the flu. Matty had taught him the basics of sewing. Gretchen had held him after a bad trip. Omar and he had had many drunken heart-to-hearts about their shitty home lives.

And Amber was his best friend. She'd been his #1 cheerleader for years and had never been afraid to call him out on his shit.

So yeah, he loved the Rocky crew…but they laughed at anyone who took anything too seriously. Mary would show up to game nights in his latest creation—with everyone else in pjs or jeans & hoodies—and they'd tease him about trying to impress the wrong people. He'd try to talk about the newest guitar god he'd been mainlining, and they'd make snoring noises at him.

How could he explain the kinship he felt with the Deathbutantes? That they were as serious about music as he was, that they just…got why he felt the need to dress the way he did to express the way he felt inside on his outside.

Instead, he said, "I'm just trying shit out, Ambs." He quirked his eyebrow at her. "I gotta do something while you guys do your real-person jobs."

(Amber had recently started as a junior marketing assistant at the American Repertory Theater. "Purely mercenary," she'd said. "Maybe it'll give me a leg up during auditions.")

She made a disgruntled scoffing noise in the back of her throat.

"Fuck, don't remind me. I actually gotta go to bed a reasonable hour now."

"Don't worry." Mary winked at her. "I'll keep ya honest."

"That sounds a lot like my head in a toilet, Mare."

"I'll hold your hair back."

She gave him a good-natured shove, and he pretended to cower.

If she wanted to cross pollinate, who was Mary to stand in her way? So, he invited her out the next time the Deathbutantes went to a show, and it went exactly like he thought it would.

They disliked her, and she was equally unimpressed. They thought she was too loud and frenetic, and she thought they had no sense of humor.

"I fucking told you," Mary had snorted as they sat on the curb sharing a clove.

"Shut the fuck up, Mare."

But she'd put her head on his shoulder.

"They make you happy, though. So I guess I approve. Just as long as I don't have to play nice."

Mary still hung out with the Rocky crew—there were still game nights and drug-fueled sex parties and theater games—but the Deathbutantes introduced him to the underground scene. They always seemed to have insider knowledge about the best up-in-coming bands and the secret shows. Theme nights at the goth clubs were always a must, and they rarely missed one. Sometimes, Angelique would crash, and they'd take the commuter rail to Providence to party at Club Hell before collapsing in a sweaty, smeary pile at a friend of a friend's hole in the wall.

As a bit player in the Rocky crew, Mary had been another made-up face in the crowd. As a certified member of the Deathbutantes, Mary became the face.

They all did.

The owners loved them because they bought round after round at the bar, and if word got out that the Deathbutantes were there, their admirers came to spend money as well. The employees loved them because they were fun and talked to them as equals. The clientele loved them because they were pretty young things.

Sometimes, though, Mary wasn't in the mood to party or get laid, so he talked to the DJs instead. He'd buy them rounds and stay past closing to help them pack up while they talked about the history of punk and 80s new wave and nu metal. There was one in particular, Dave, that Mary even considered a friend.

The two of them would sit in the club past closing, sharing a whiskey and talking about life while the bartenders closed down and cashed out. Occasionally, Dave's other friends would be around, and they'd all walk back to his place; he'd fool around spinning in his home studio, and they'd drink box wine as they danced and laughed before Mary would have to sit on the ground in an intoxicated exhaustion, good for only thumbing through Dave's vinyl collection.

Mary was just happy to talk shop with another music aficionado, but Angelique had pointed out that he should leverage his minor clout.

They'd been waiting for Greg to finish setting up, and Mary had been struggle city after a particularly hard night out. It was all he could manage to sit there quietly and hope some god would put him out of his misery.

"You need to get your shit together," Angelique had said out of nowhere.

Mary had cracked a puffy eye and had slowly (as to not bring the nothing in his stomach back up) turned his head to her.

"As if I haven't seen your melted ass on the floor wanting to die."

"Fuck, Mary. You've turned it into an art form."

He'd closed his eyes and given her the finger, but that hadn't stopped her.

"You wanna be a rockstar, boy? You can't just sit on your ass and hope the right person on the right night hears you. You're effervescent and charismatic—heads turn when you walk into a room and not just because of your skinny jeans—but you need more than air, Mary, which is all you are right now."

"Fuck you, Angela."

She'd clapped in front of his face, and she was lucky he didn't Exorcist bile all over her.

"You're a fucking pain in my ass, Goore. I'm doling out the good stuff, try not to bite my hand off, k?"

"All right, all right!"

"You wanna start that band? You wanna get play and amass fans? Well, make that demo you're always droning on about and give it to those DJs you're alway fanboying over. Fucking network, Goore."

At the time, Mary had been too hungover to care, but her advice would sink in…

Eventually.

For the time being, Mary was content. He loved the attention, and it made him feel invincible, made him feel like it was finally His Time. And he was going to make up for every slight, every unfair situation, and every beat down with sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll.

With his newfound nightlife, Mary's day job had become an afterthought. He started sleeping through opening shifts, but with the extra foot traffic Mary brought to the store, his boss seemed resigned to let Mary slide (after a stern talking to and a pay docking).

The shadow cast had started using him as a mascot of sorts, and he was happy to show up on Saturday nights and hype up the waiting line with a pseudo striptease. (Even if it was sometimes to kick off his evening with the Deathbutantes and not hang with the cast after.)

Mary started a band ("auditioning" any and all of the many admirers who said they’d be more than happy to join it), and after a few false starts and a couple of lineup changes, they began working on an EP. (At least, when Mary showed up to rehearsal, they did.)

A Boston Phoenix reporter got wind of the Deathbutantes and called around about doing a story on them. The Bens were excited about the exposure that meant for their zine, and Angelique and Greg were excited about what it could mean for their careers. Mary did a brief interview over the phone where he answered questions about his style and talked about his dream of making his band a household name.

Mary saw his name up in lights, and he was reaching for it, full speed ahead.

But then things turned.

The story fell through at the last minute with no further explanation or contact by the reporter.

His boss finally fired him after Mary showed up too high to function too many times—or not at all.

The shadow cast had a turnover, and suddenly he was old news—a cringey hanger-on.

A trip to the clinic and a round of antibiotics for an STI had him way more wary of who he hooked up with.

"Heroes" lost momentum when imitators popped up and Ben cut off the gravy train.

Angelique moved to NYC for "better opportunities," and the Bens took their brand of counterculture to Portland, OR.

Greg took down the website when he got offered a legit job as an apprentice at a food magazine, and that was that.

The physical zines were cheap things, most ending up papering the sidewalk after trash day or lining the bottom of cages. Without the online presence, did Mary's "modeling career" even exist?

Mary was a little sad to see the era go, but when he woke up in Maine on the hood of some girl's car and only a hazy recollection of how they'd gotten there, he was beginning to see Angelique's point. He needed to get his shit together if he was ever going to become a rockstar. And frankly, he kind of felt like he needed to spend an entire month eating carrots and hydrating.

The 24/7 party had always been an ephemeral thing; it had been sand passing through his hands in a finite amount as he'd tried to hold onto it

He put himself on detox, and waking up sober for the first time in months felt like a revelation. And as it turned out, playing the guitar without badly shaking hands was way, way easier.

He found another job in another music store, and his starter!band was bringing butts into the smaller venues, like Toad.

He still had his old Rocky friends and the Deathbutantes. The club and venue owners still let him in for free, and Dave was always happy to give his demos a spin. By anyone's else's measure, he was steal one of the scene's darlings.

But Mary was beginning to realize that he needed to stop seeing himself as that scared kid who’d arrived in Boston 4 years ago with only a backpack, $72.57 to his name, and void where his family should be.

He needed to stop finding people to please into loving him.

Instead, he needed to live for himself and let them love him for who he was—fuck ups and all.

@slimylayne

Epilogue

"Honestly, that’s probably the reason I even got a band together," he says. "I was still kind of shit at guitar, but people came to see ‘Model Mary’ perform in his underwear."

He shoots me a smirk.

"I’m sure there’re pictures out there of me looking more glam than metal. I kind of played up the whole pinup thing for a while."

"Fuck, I would kill, literally kill to see that."

He pulls me into his lap until I’m straddling him.

"I could open up my underwear drawer and show you right now."

"Goore, you temptress."

I lean down to kiss him, and his hands sneak under my shirt, but I pull away again.

"I kinda thought I knew all your torrid secrets by now. Shit, how come Dave's never needled you about it?"

After 2 years with him, I’m surprised I hadn't even heard a peep from his oldest friend.

Mary snorts.

"Dave would miss shit hanging off his nose. Great dude, amiable as fuck, but he's always had fucking tunnel vision for his music."

I smirk at him.

"Sounds like someone else I know."

Mary pulls a face at me, and I apply kisses to every line until he laughs and bats me away.

"But really, Mare—how come you never told me about your brief career in blue steel?"

He blows out a breath, his hands smoothing up my thighs.

"Fuck. Cuz maybe I was a little embarrassed at how off the rails I was then, ok? Didn't want you to know what I fuck up I was." He takes my hand and kisses my palm. "And even I know it's a shit move to pitch woo at someone by telling them about banging half of Boston."

I make a face at him, and he laughs.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought."

His hands rest on my waist.

"Christ, everything about that year's a bit fuzzy, and it was like 10 years ago. Sometimes it feels like it happened to someone else, honestly. And shit—most of those people aren’t even around anymore. College kids who moved on and 20-somethings that grew up and moved who knows where. I used to watch Amber have—what is it when it’s four people?—and now she lives in bumblefuck Pennsylvania with 3 kids. After she left, I just kinda drifted away from all that."

He shrugs, his eyes downcast.

"I’m sorry, Mare," I say as I smooth his eyebrows.

He shrugs again.

"I mean, we all kinda keep in touch. It's like the only reason I have Facebook."

"When was the last time you even signed into that?"

Mary grins at me.

"Lola's birthday."

"One of the models? What happened with them?"

Mary bites his lip and thinks.

"Mayhem found religion after an OD and kinda ghosted everyone. Lesley followed a girl to New Hampshire. Uh…Lola pursued a PhD for something sciencey involving renewable energy with sugar beets in Idaho, and Bryan moved back to Florida to care for his grandma, who raised him."

Mary leans his head back on the couch and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"I mean, shit. We were fucking babies back then. Head empty except for a good time and unlimited potential."

I run my fingers through his hair.

"You miss it?"

His eyes pop open to look at me.

"Fuck no. Not for a million dollars. Too many question marks." His eyes glint as he runs his hands down me. "I like what I got going on right here."

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and kiss his forehead. The fucking sap.

Mary picks up my phone and scrolls through the pictures again.

"Fuck. I used to be goddamn adorable, though. Half this shit wouldn’t even fit me anymore."

I squish his little potbelly, and he grunts at me indignantly.

"Do you still have any originals?" I ask.

He shakes his head, his eyes wistful and his smile sad.

"Nah. Got destroyed when my roof collapsed and leaked everywhere. Fuck, landlords are useless. Glad we fucking own now, babe."

He scrolls up, scrolls back down.

"Just these four?"

I nod.

"Yeah. They were the only ones I found—and I did a lot of searching."

"Christ, I think there were at least 10."

I smile ruefully at him. "It’s not gonna be long anyway before they make their way into the popular tags and shit starts coming out of the woodwork."

He tosses my phone onto the table.

"Whatever. Just shows that I’ve always been cool."

And then he’s kissing me again, his hand tangling in my hair.

"You know, I’m your family now, Mare. Just for you."

He brings my hand up and kisses it.

"Fuck, I know that. Why’dja think I put a ring on it?"

#mary goore #longfic #gender neutral insert #aurelio voltaire

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random-ran-me · 3 years ago

Text

Tubbo in wonderland

warnings: vore mouth play? Heights Family not caring and other things like that..

Life is full of wonder and Magic but for some people wondering is hard and they only go off what they know even if it’s not true, Magic is non existent in a world like this..even if it’s right in front of them-well except for one very special little boy..Toby a young lad with brown Curly hair and Beautiful forest green eyes and lots of frecklessd, a rather normal looking boy, and to Toby normal was boring,

Toby sighed as his family played in the park, he was leaning against a oak tree as the wind blew bye his face with a Mighty gust, he was so bored bye these games his Friends and family would play, the same games every summer, he wanted something new and exciting but no one seemed to like new games..

he just needed-needed some-some wonder in his life, Mystery and Magic was all he craved, he was just lost is what he felt come to his brain, why was he like this? Most kids he met were just happy to do anything they were told but toby always questions everything even his parents,

his family has given up on him is what it seems, toby was one of the smartest 12 year olds he new, not to toot his own horn or anything but he had the best grades in his class however this isn’t what makes a person smart,

it is the ability to question and think about things that most people wouldn’t even think twice about, that is what being smart is it is the ability to have imagination and of all things wonder, but his family wasn’t like that. At all, he felt himself cringe and remorse from the thought, Toby didn’t have any friends so he was alone with his thoughts most summers sadly.

as Toby glanced over to his side looking among the tree’s of the park he saw a..rabbit? In a small park? That was out of the ordinary, Toby stood walking swiftly towards the direction of the rabbit, glancing at his mom for approval when he received a nod he quickly sprinted off in the direction of the rabbit, Toby ran past tree after tree before stopping to catch his breath, I’m so late late LATE LATE!! he heard someone saying from the bushes, Toby peeked around a tree to see a black and White rabbit with A pocket watch and a trenchcoat on, wha-wow, that is a talking rabbit Toby thought, hello? Toby spoke up as he slowly walked out of the bushes, the rabbit didn’t pay much attention to him still mumbling about being late,

well the rabbit didn’t pay attention to him until he tried picking it up, la-ahh! Hey! Listen here would you like it if I just picked you up? N-no.. but I was talking to you and you ignored me! Well then maybe you could have realized I was Busy! How was I supposed to know! Toby couldn’t believe he was having an argument with a rabbit..

Toby set the bunny down parting with its soft fur,

THANK YOU the rabbit said sarcastically, ugh I’ve got to go, and I’m even more late because of you! Toby took a step back at the outburst looking at his feet I’m-I-sorry Toby said but was to late apparently the rabbit had went down a tunnel,

That definitely was not there before Toby thought to himself, he slowly approached the huge hole in the ground

He found himself looking down the hole but couldn’t see the bottom he reached his hand out but couldn’t find the ground, odd Toby thought, he tried reaching even farther stretching his arm as far as it could go,

He felt himself fall off balance..

WOAH!

Toby felt gravity pull him down as he tried to get out of the dark hole, AHHH! He screamed as he fell, he expected to hit some ground, he knew the hole was deep but not this deep,

It felt like around two minutes where he still hadn’t hit the ground yet..

Help!?

He yelled but to no avail he didn’t get a response..HELP!? he tried louder..nothing…

Maybe I’m dreaming he prayed in his head, oh please let me be dreaming he pleaded,

Because if this wasn’t a dream He didn’t think there was any way to get out,

Suddenly he started to see objects? Like tee kettles and tea cups, he sees lots of clocks and a bed? What is happening?! Toby said in a protesting voice,

He started panicking as he fell faster, he flailed around trying to grab any objects big enough to break a fall from this height but he knew he was probably going to die..

His tears flew as the wind blew as he fell, AHHHHHH!!

He screeched.

Suddenly he felt sick as gravity seemed to change, Toby didn’t see what happened as his eyes were shut but all of a sudden he was on a ceiling?

OK he knew he wanted some magic and wonder but he didn’t want to be in a fever dream!

Wha-what?.. he questioned fearfully, where am I? He spoke out loud, he was alone so he was talking to himself,

How do I get down? He wondered,

Maybe..if I try this! Toby jumped and immediately gravity pulled him down again, AHHH!

Bonk

Was all that was Heard as he hit the ground

OW..

He groaned as he sat up with pain in his back, he heard a crack as he stood up..that’s going to leave some bruises.. he thought to himself,

Looking around the room he saw it had a round roof like a dome, it looks rather old yet classy Toby essentially sure, The whole room had curtains in it covering up well he didn’t know,

He looked over to a small table with a glass centre and a wooden outlining, on it small box rested, it had a small tag that was attached to the ribbon that the box was tied shut with, Toby stood up walking with a bit of pain as he approached the small table, picking the small box up to examine it, it was a nice Little box with a yellow ribbon and bow on top and the box itself was pink, it reminded him of Easter,

In the back of his mind he kind of wondered if he had met the Easter bunny earlier…

The tag on the box red

•Eat me•

Huh? I mean there’s no way this isn’t a dream Toby thought, so I mean there’s no harm in eating something you found in a box, in an unfamiliar place?

It sounded better in his head then out loud

Not like anyone could hear him anyways though..

Toby carefully pulled at the ribbon undoing the bow so he could open the box, he reached his hand inside the small box to pull out a cookie that was Square and the cookie had frosting that red “eat me” just like the tag,

I mean no harm could be done in a dream so I might as well just enjoy it!

Toby sat on the floor with the cookie and took a bite, the frosting tasted normal but the cookie itself was awful,

Gross yuck!

He swallowed the rest of the cookie that was in his mouth before putting he cookie down,

He felt tingling in his legs and then it started to spread all the way up to his head, Toby had to close his eyes that’s how queasy he felt,

His head hit something and the queasy feeling went away, he opened his eyes looking around him,

What?!

He yelled making the walls shake, he said was now 20 feet tall,

He had new clothes on as well wear ever the heck those came from, he didn’t really understand why he was dressed in winter clothing but he just reminded himself it was a dream right? Everything felt real but maybe he was just having a realistic dream

He looked back down at the table..now there was a small bottle that probably said drink me he thought sarcastically

He really didn’t want to drink it after that but maybe it could help him?

Toby very gently picked up the bottle and very very carefully took the Cork off,

He pressed the cold bottle to his lips just barely feeling the liquid inside Poor into his mouth,

He felt the tingling feeling again but he didn’t feel as sick this time, Plus he wanted to see what it looked like, if it looks like anything that is

His body shrank down to about 4 inches it was very distorting to watch,

His clothes magically changed right before his eyes..

He was wearing a green shirt with rips in it and blue Jean pants? At least if they were going to give him a shirt give him one with no rips in it he thought to himself,

This was his dream but he wasn’t really sure if he wanted to explore, at risk of it becoming a nightmare..

It is only a dream! he told him self he didn’t want to wake up yet he wanted to explore, even if his brain was telling him not to

I wonder what’s behind these curtains?

Toby walked over cautiously, he couldn’t really pull the curtain so he walked around it and behind it

There was a small door?

Toby tried to open it, he pulled and he pushed but to no avail the door didn’t open..

PASS WORD PLEASE

He heard ring around him, uhh? Abracadabra? Open Sesame? Open?

You dumb child use your manners!

Was all he heard after his failed attempts, uh I-my manners! Please open! He yelled,

The door opened he quickly ran out in case it decided to shut, he looked around him in awe this world he was in was Beautiful from what he could tell..but everything was huge now,

He wished he would have brought the terrible tasting cookie with him..

Because now he was alone,tiny, and in a pink and purple coloured Forest

At least the grass was relatively normal, but it was still beautiful nonetheless magical almost,

He heard the familiar voice of.. The rabbit!

Maybe the rabbit can give him directions

Hey! Hello? He heard rustling come from the bushes As a black and white rabbit head came out of a bush

Huh? The rabbit looked down at Toby with the most confused and disgruntled look Toby had ever seen in his life,

Then the rabbit had a look of realization, toby didn’t even know rabbits could show emotions but apparently this one could..

HEY! Your that boy who picked me up and that’s why I was late!!

Oh yeah sorry about that Toby said rubbing the back of his head with his hand

The rabbit walked closer to him almost suffocating’ly close

——————————————————————————

Ranboo rabbit POV

——————————————————————————

Gosh dang it ranboo had forgotten to close the wonderland hole and now a human had gotten in, I mean it’s not like there weren’t any humans in wonderland heck they’re are plenty but this one isn’t supposed to be here..

Phil would know what to do!

He just needed to take the tiny human to the mad hatter’s house but how?

Ranboo didn’t want to reveal his secrets to the human especially being a rabbit hybrid

But he didn’t exactly have hands in this form..

Oh god.. he needed to act tuff again..

HEY! your the one who picked me up earlier!

Oh yeah sorry about that the young boy said as he rubbed the back of his head

The fact that the boy was even hear was a miracle only descendants of the wonderland people can get in so he must be a descendant of someone..but who?

The boy started talking again and ranboo felt bad for what he was about to do but he didn’t know what he could reveal..

Ranboo swiftly grabbed the boy in his mouth almost slurping him in like noodle..

He felt the boy kick and struggle but the rabbit hybrid just gently tightened his mouth so the boy was immobilized

——————————————————————————

Toby POV

——————————————————————————

Toby kicked and struggled as hard as he could as his delusions went away..

This is not a dream.

At all and his brain new that..

He just didn’t want to believe it…

But now he was in a rabbits mouth probably going to end up as a snack for later as the rabbit did not swallow him yet..key word yet

Toby looked for sensitive spots in the mouth but all he new about was human sensitivity!

Just as he gave one last good kick the roof of the mouth came down on top of him, it wasn’t crushing him but the warm saliva felt weird on his back,

He shivered from the feeling

Plus his face was pushed against a tongue and it was disgusting..

He new the rabbit was running by the occasional bump and feeling of stoping

——————————————————————————

Ranboo rabbit POV

——————————————————————————

Ranboo looked around the hatter’s home but Phil nor Wilbur could be seen..

Ugh now I have to take this kid home with me..

Ranboo opened his mouth slightly to let more fresh air in for the little boy before closing his mouth hearing a scream for help with it

Luckily he didn’t live to far away from the hatter’s so he sprinted off to his borrow

Running as fast as he could he finally made it to his borrow,

Now this was no dirt hole it was just a home under ground it still had everything a normal human needed

Ranboo turned into his human form, the boy still in his mouth, he opened up the doors in the ground walking down the stairs and into the Area Where you could hang your coat and leave your shoes, he smelt the carrot stew his dad was cooking,

Ranboo tried to sneak to his room without being detected by his dad,

Ranboo! Is that you buddy?

He heard come from the kitchen, now ranboo would have said something almost immediately but since he had a fragile item or so he would call it, in his mouth he couldn’t exactly speak plus if he took the boy out he would probably cry or scream or try to escape his Grasp…

Ranboo bolted for his room looking frantically for a jar in his dresser or something till he just decided to pluck the boy out of his mouth and put him in his dresser drawer and shut it with a-

bang

Ranboo ran back out to the kitchen, oh uh-sorry dad I-I was just holding a lot of things and couldn’t talk because I needed to focus!

Mhm.. he sounded sceptical ranboo thought nervously, he’s trying his best to make his nose stop twitching but he wasn’t very good at hiding it..

Ok buddy supper will be ready soon,

O-oh-ok Ranboo Sighed out of relief

So how was your first day today?

It was good I was a little late but I made it to king techno with the local news

Good,good may I ask why you were late?

Just stressed a-and couldn’t find my way there immediately..

Well do your best son this was my job, and now it’s yours, you’re the white rabbit’s son, you need to live up to my name,

I know..

Ranboo said sounding defeated…

We’ll head back to your room I’m sure you have homework to do his dad laughed for a second

Ye-yeah I haven’t checked but I probably do,

And with that ranboo sprinted back to his room close ing the door behind him,

——————————————————————————

Toby POV

——————————————————————————

Toby wasn’t really paying attention he was mor worried about, yknow dying..so when gravity shifted and all of a sudden he wasn’t in a mouth any more and was in a dark cold place he didn’t question it he was just happy to be alive, Toby tried getting the spit off him as he couldn’t really see anything so he couldn’t really escape..

But what did make him question even more was the fact that he was pretty sure a hand had grabbed him not a paw,

Suddenly he heard a door slam shut and foot steps coming closer but suddenly they stopped and all went quite

Toby’s breath hitched in his throat as he waited for something to happen, and then he saw a crack of light

——————————————————————————

Ranboo the rabbit POV

——————————————————————————Ranboo wasn’t sure weather to let the boy see his hybrid form or not but finally decided to just go for it as he slowly opened his top drawer,

He saw the boy give him a shocked look before cowering away in the back of the drawer,

Ranboo decided he would start fresh, or at least try, he assumed the boy didn’t recognize him but he could later or maybe he already had..

But he was going to try to get a clean slate,

Ok he was just going to be himself and talk,

Hello? The boy didn’t so much as look at him,

What’s your name little guy?

Luckily ranboo had rabbit ears so he could hear the Little whisper that came out of the boy,

Toby…

Huh that’s a weird name, you need a wonderland name ranboo said with his hands on his hips

The boy looked at him now coming out of hiding, yes it’s working! ranboo thought,

What about..Tubbo

O-ok he heard a whisper

——————————————————————————

Tubbo POV

——————————————————————————Toby didn’t know why he expected a rabbit to Open the drawer thingy but what he wasn’t expecting was a rabbit it human hybrid to Open the drawer

He was scared at first but it seem to show no memory of him so he assumed it wasn’t the rabbit from before

He marked it as a possibility because he wasn’t really sure what was happening around him..

He could probably start flying lessons if he tried hard enough, especially in this world?

But the hybrid showed nothing but kindness to him so he deemed it more safe then anything,

The rabbit hybrid had asked him a couple of questions

He happily answered them even if he was a bit shy and scared in the beginning,

He asked the rabbit Hybrid‘s name which apparently was ranboo,

That’s a weird name like why can’t his name be something easy to remember like mark or something,

The giant rabbit hybrid put their hand down in the what Toby assumed was a drawer,

He climbed on very very cautiously, as ranboo lifted his hand up slowly,

So Tubbo I kinda need to keep you here till tomorrow so what do you want to do?

That was an odd thing to say but Toby wasn’t really going to argue he was kind of hoping that he go to sleep tonight and wake up with his family,

He knew that was a pretty slim chance though..

Have any board games?

Yeah, want to play?

Sure!

——————————————————————————

Ranboo: Son of the white rabbit

Tubbo: niece of Alice

Philza: descendant of the mad hatter

Wilbur: Phils son

Tommy: also Phil’s son, (We’re just gonna say they’re the tweedle Dee and tweedle dumb but not quite)

Techno: King of hearts

Qwackity: Cheshire Cat (this is up to change) May change it to Nikki later

And there’s lots of others

——————————————————————————

This is due to be continued

If you were questioning yes the land that Tubbo is in is real he’s not dreaming

——————————————————————————

Part two may be coming out soon

This is not edited

And don’t worry I’m still working on my other fiction it’s just taking a really long time

——————————————————————————

Please feel free to ask questions

#tw vore #tiny tubbo #my story #alice in wonderland #tubbo au

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