#....wait a goddamn second that's just the beginning of puberty

[catgirltoes]

No one fucking knows what a fourteen year old looks like huh.

[onebizarrekai]

v3′s art is comically terrible for a professionally distributed game in a series: a compilation

in this not-essay I will list all of the mistakes and problems I have spotted in v3′s art. don’t worry, it’s entirely for fun and I’m doing this on a whim, so please feel free to not take this seriously but also it’s hilarious and embarrassing how ridiculous this is like what happened did they speedrun the whole production or what

see, there are some things you can take as meta like “they made it bad on purpose to allude to the downfall of tv shows that have been on air for much too long” but I have a very strong feeling this is not the case due to the nature of some of these errors

disclaimer, the more I study this art, the more I fear that the artists were underpaid and underslept, so if this is in fact the case, I am so sorry to all of them but also I’m going to make fun of the art anyway

anyway let’s get started!

if you study this image for longer than 5 seconds, you will see that kaede is the only one fully shaded and keebo is literally just his normal sprite pasted into the image. every other character is just an ordinary ref, hence most of them facing the exact same direction with neutral expressions on their faces. it looks like a bad edit, and is probably one of the worst pieces of art in the game. it kind of gets better from here on, but my roasting will not.

with that out of the way, here’s the problem that officially bothers me the most and clarifies my viewpoint of “this is not meta and an actual lack of company communication”

this freaking cg, which seems normal at a glance, but some wiseass was like “oh, kaede is a girl, so obviously she’s going to be shorter than the Male Protagonist™” ah, that’s funny. because if you look at the character bios, kaede is, in fact, one inch taller than shuichi and not like 6 inches shorter as she is shown here.

also shuichi’s shoulder is disproportionate and horrendous and he looks vaguely like a jojo character, but I wasn’t even thinking about that until right now.

thanks guys, 50% of the fandom who has never bothered to check these bios thinks that kaede is like 5′3 (did the developers really put so little thought into her to the point where drawing her correctly in the game didn’t even matter??)

also I would like to point out that, even though this isn’t related to the art itself, yes, a character kaede’s size being only 117 lbs is unfeasible, but this applies to literally every character in danganronpa ever and it’s not new news that it’s unrealistic

update: someone in the tags informed me that in versions of the game that use centimeters, like the japanese version, kaede is actually shorter than shuichi, which just adds another thing to the list of weird decisions the localization team made for no reason. that said, after confirming this, kaede is 167 cm in the original, while shuichi is 171 cm, which are approximately 5′6 and 5′7 respectively, but one inch is still nowhere near as drastic as it is depicted above. (in spite of this, I would rather depict kaede as slightly taller, so I’m probably going to keep doing that.)

the journey continues!

bro if you want kaede to have shoulder length hair then stick to it to begin with

you can pretend this is at an angle all you want but they definitely committed the shorter kaede sin a second time

wait a goddamn second.

DO YOU SEE THIS

no………… it wasn’t kaede who shrank. it was shuichi who got taller

speaking of which, can we talk about how shady the perspective is in this elevator pic? look at shuichi and kokichi in comparison to kaede. kokichi, who is canonically 7 inches (edit: or 5, if you’re loyal to the original) shorter than kaede, looks taller than kaede. he’s growing too. what steroids are these gays taking

running into the room, electric boogaloo: I don’t think tsumugi is supposed to be the same height as kokichi

gonta… gonta you’re lookin a bit like a jojo character there

I love how kaito’s head looks kind of like it was pasted onto his body. why is he the same size as shuichi? shouldn’t he be high school bully size or something? his torso is teensy

ah yes, white angie.

I love this cg but why is shuichi’s right hand so much bigger than his left hand

I also love how this cg looks like they literally took pictures of trees and pasted them into the background, especially on the left. the shadows are so weird, especially closer to the ceiling, it’s difficult for me to believe they didn’t do exactly that.

return of Enlarged shuichi

puberty update: kokichi is now taller than shuichi in spite of shuichi never missing leg day. what crimes will he commit

I have to mention it, guys. this has to be one of the worst danganronpa cgs. kokichi’s facial proportions look atrocious. look at the way his face sticks out like his jaw is in the wrong place. his scarf is a pasted texture. that’s it. this moment was so iconic but the cg just looks so… so… off. like something is terribly wrong, but you can’t put your finger on it.

you know what? let’s get into that ‘pasted texture’ thing.

let’s imagine you’re an artist working on a professional game. you’re assigned to draw cgs of kokichi ouma, who has a checkered scarf from hell. sure, it will be terrible to draw, but you only have to draw it once at a time! plus, perspective is pretty important, right? can you be bothered? nah, actually. let’s just copy paste a checkered pattern into the cg, because I’m sure nobody will notice. it’ll blend right in with the other cgs that someone actually put effort into drawing his scarf in, right?

no. the answer is no and I very much noticed. this genuinely looks terrible and I would understand taking a shortcut like that in fanart or even an indie game but this is a full price pc and console distributed game

(an addition: look at kokichi’s TINY HANDS in that last one)

meanwhile, they straight up forgot to color in kokichi’s scarf in this cg.

dude. I forgot about whatever the hell this cg was. anyway look at keebo please just look at him

lovin kaito’s baby arms

real talk, maybe you could argue that he’s missing muscle because he’s deathly sick, but most of his cgs don’t line up with this, and his arms just look disproportionate to his torso size (granted this is a consistent problem across all danganronpa games and a lot of characters have this weird problem, like hajime, but also kaito is bigger than hajime so I kind of have higher expectations of him) maybe it’s his stupid goatee and the way he reminds me of yasuhiro?? it creates this illusion that he’s older than he is and so I keep expecting him to look more like an adult

oh, also rantaro is missing some of his accessories in that video he made–you know the one–but I don’t wanna go back and screenshot it

also you may have noticed that I’m skipping all of the monokub cgs because I literally do not care about them and I’m not even bothering to check and see if they have artistic mistakes in them

JIMMY NEUTRON???

hey um uh kaito you seem to be missing your neck

hey guys do you like my pregame fanart

so, that done, the sprites are also pretty terrible at times. they’re not as interesting to go through, however, and downloading the full sprite sets for every character and studying every single one of them will drive me insane, so I’ll just sum some of the ones I noticed up. I made things for kaede and shuichi before deciding I wasn’t going to get into it, so here are these.

that said, other mistakes include kokichi missing his purple highlights in all of the sprites encompassing a specific pose, stray pixels all over the place on everyone, and everyone also has heavily inconsistent shading, but literally all I think about is how pregame shuichi is unshaded and two of kaede’s pregame sprites have glaring outfit change mistakes in them

anyway, thank you for taking the time to read my ridiculous ramble. in all seriousness, there’s this looming presence of some lack of communication in the development team, like with all the art and design inconsistencies, pieces and sprites that look rushed, stray pixels, and missing basic proportional stuff. these are the kinds of things that you supposedly have to pretty much have in the bag in order to get jobs in professional businesses, so it’s really weird to me that this game suffers from so many of these problems. it’s like they tried to make the art so much more crisp than the other games, but it fell on its face as they realized it was going to take longer to draw everything and they started to rush. it’s weird, because the coloring itself looks normal–it’s just sloppily drawn, and the proportions are a mess once put into the context of perspective. many of the cgs look like they were drawn by different people, and I’m still not over the fact that half of kokichi’s cgs have his scarf pasted in as a texture.

the moral of the story is that if you’re selling a game at full price that also happens to be in a series that has had 3 very good games in it already the stakes should probably be higher than this. v3 has been out for more than 3 years and it’s still $40 (did it cost more than that before? I sure hope not), and the overarching quality of the game is just not as high as the other games. I’m not saying that the other games don’t have any problems with their art at all, they’re just not as glaringly obvious and every artistic choice in those games feels intentional.

regardless, I had a blast roasting the art at 2am, so maybe you got a kick out of all this chaos.

[urmomsmainbitch]

american idiot - chapter one

link to wattpad story // link to series masterlist // link to writing

word count: 2.7k

warnings: the bowers gang, weapons, violence, basically the whole thing (if you're not comfortable with violence or abuse -- which henry faces during the movies and during the book -- then i recommend you don't read, but i'll try to tag appropriately!)

a/n: i hope you don't think it's ass but this is probably going to come out every other friday or so but this is more of a trailer than the start of the actual series

HENRY DIDN'T REMEMBER a better time in his life than when he heard the news that Tommy 'Gun' Lee was coming back to Derry for the summer. To him, nothing topped the moment where is dad was slurring over his dinner (leftover hot dogs -- again), and let it slip that the "ungrateful little bitch" was coming back for a few months over the summer, and that "your whore of a mother" didn't mention if she was staying for the year or not.

He remembered huffing and puffing, grumbling something under his breath before excusing himself, and running to call Patrick like it was fucking Christmas morning.

Something about his darling little sister coming back made his heart race and a smile light up his face, and it was evident from the way he stepped into Derry Middle on the last day of school.

Oh, this summer would be perfect! His deal with Denbrough was over, the gang was all together, and his perfect sister was coming back from San Diego for the summer. Tommy Lee Bowers, he knew, would make this the best summer he;d ever had -- and by fucking God, he wasn't going to let anything stand in his way. Not that stuttering freak or the stupid Tozier kid who's mouth ran a mile a minute or his father's thriving alcohol addiction -- absolutely nothing.

His Tommy Gun would rule that fucking school the second she stepped in to pick him up, and every one knew it.

Word travels fast at Derry Middle, and when it got around that Bowers had a little sister coming, the first thing Bill Denbrough did was panic.

She couldn't be too different, could she?

The same blood ran through their veins, the same color skin on their bones, and most likely, the permanently upturned smirk tattooed to their lips. His hopes didn't improve when he saw the girl himself, waiting outside on the hood of Butch's car, throwing rocks at little kids passing by as she sat patiently for Henry to come outside.

He'd promised her a tour of the school -- it's only fair, he put it, that a queen knows her kingdom before taking it over. Henry had no doubt that Tommy would run the school when it was her time in September. A grade below Tits and the rest of his ugly friends, it would be more embarrassing than anything else to watch them suffer socially at the hands of a twelve year old girl.

(Henry very much looked forward to that moment. So much so, in fact, that he near goddamn skipped his way to the front of the school to open the door so they could start the tour. It helped that he was getting out of math class.)

It was only in the few moments before she walked in the door (immediately claiming the whole goddamn building with a footstep) that Bowers caught him by the bag and dragged him into the bathroom, away from the rest of the kids, and most likely, where he'd lay dying for the rest of the school day and foreseeable future (Stanley refused to shit in the school bathrooms, and seeing as he was the only one on this side of the building, he was screwed.).

Bill had never liked being alone with Henry Bowers. Nothing good ever came out of it, and he didn't want to stick around this time to find out why he'd been pulled into a bathroom and away from the rest of the student population. Henry let go of Bill's bag, letting him stumble around for a second or two before straightening up and backing him up against the wall.

"W-what d-d-do you w-want, B-Bowers?" Bill nearly spat, looking the older boy in the eyes. Henry's permanent smirk seemed to grow a few inches on either side, because he just chuckled softly -- albeit cruelly -- and looked down at the Denbrough boy. Bill could smell his breath, even though the two weren't standing particularly close to one another.

"Well, B-b-billy," he mocked, nearly laughing as he relaxed his posture a little bit and backed away from him. (Any one is passing who didn't know them might have said, "Hey, I bet those two boys are damn good friends.") "I have some news for you and your group of stupid fucking friends, and let me tell you" -- Henry stopped to laugh for a second, like he was cracking himself up -- "it's going to make your life a living hell."

Bill gulped. He didn't think, realistically, it could get much worse.

"You got a free ride this year because of your little brother," Henry reminded, smiling a little bit, seeming genuine. "But the ride's over Denbrough. This summer is going to be the worst summer of your entire life."

(Bill didn't expect him to say anything else -- but honestly, every summer was the worst summer of his entire life. He didn't catch a break from the older boy and his group of goons, but there was a feeling down in the pits of his stomach that told him that this time, this time, for real, was going to be the worst summer vacation he's ever going to have as long as he lives.)

"But I do have a little piece of extra advice I'm gonna give you."

Bill huffed. "You're so generous," he started, rolling his eyes, as he tried to walk out of the bathroom. Henry grabbed onto his backpack, "but I think I'll have to pass with this one."

He was cut off as Bowers kicked him on shin and onto the cold bathroom tiles. So much for being brave.

"I think you might want to hear this." Henry squatted down to look Bill in the eyes. There was still a hint of a smile on his face. Boy, this is gonna be good. "If you think I'm a pain in your ass--"

"I d-do think you're a p-pain in m-my a-ass."

Henry paused for a second, sending a menacing smile, and pushed him back on the ground as he got up and stepped over the boy on the floor, before beginning to make his way out of the bathroom before looking back, before lending Bill a hand to get up. He hesitantly took it and brushed off his pants, lips pressed tightly together as he looked at Henry. "Then you're gonna hate the girl sitting on Belch's car."

"Why's that?" Bill asked, feigning confidence, already knowing the answer. Henry could tell, just exhaling and giving him a big mischievous smile, hands behind his back.

"Not important, but she's not gonna be as nice as I am," he said with a grin, "but I'm just looking out for you, Billy Boy. Wouldn't want Tommy Gun to whip your ass without some working, right?"

With that, Henry left the bathroom, a smile plastered on his face as he went to greet his sister, and Bill raced out of there like his ass was on fire -- warning Richie not to talk to or about the pretty girl sitting on Belch's car.

-- -- --

"Best feeling ever!" Stan groaned, grinning ear to ear as he dumped out everything from his backpack. School had finally let out for the summer — no more stupid math classes or dumb reading assignments and annoying history tests, just Stanley and his bird book for three whole months.

A piece of his own personal heaven. Points if the pretty girl on Belch's hood was with him but hey, he wasn't picky.

"Really?" Richie asked with a grin on his face, "Try tickling your pickle for the first time." Eddie rolled his eyes, but Bill smiled. Stan let out another groan -- not a good one, this time -- even though, if he had to be honest, this seemed like it would be the best summer of his whole entire life.

Richie felt it too, if he were going to tell the truth (as he so rarely did -- or at times, so bluntly did), that this felt like it was going to the be the absolutely best summer he would have for the rest of his life. He had a whole checklist and everything for things he wanted to do (kiss some girls), things he wanted to see (some girls' boobs), and things he wanted to experience (there were a number of interesting things on this list).

And quite frankly, he felt as though every single thing on every one of his lists could be accomplished with the girl sitting on Belch Huggins' car hood, smiling mischievously as she watched the kids coming out of school.

God, did she really and truly look like an angel. Deep brown hair, straight in some parts and wavy in others, came down a little bit past her collarbone (not super cared for, but neither was his), cherry red lips, and a cute line of freckles going across the bridge of her nose. She was the most impressive tan he'd ever seen in his whole life, a very deep beige from the summer sun — even though it was only June.

The top part was being held up by some clip, and Richie could see his own Hawaiian shirt going over her tank top instead of the open button down she was wearing on top. It was lazy looking and careless and little bit disheveled, but that day, Richard Wentworth Tozier II was convinced he saw the hottest girl to ever be created.

Eddie interrupted his dream, snapping him back for only a second. "So what do you guys want to do tomorrow?"

"I start my training," Richie responded immediately.

"Training for what?"

"Street Fighter."

"You're going to spend your whole summer inside of an arcade?" Eddie couldn't imagine that prospect, but with Richie, anything was possibly -- no matter how disgusting it might seem.

"Beats spending it inside of your mother, oh!" Richie's goofy grin came back in an instant and leaned over for a high five from Bill when his hand was brought down by Stan. "And, 'course, my summer bucket list."

Eddie sent him a pity glance, "No girl's gonna let you fuck her this summer, Richie. If they have any brains at all, no girl is going to let you go within a ten foot radius of her without realizing what she's doing." Richie pressed his lips together. Of course Eddie would be cynical, it's just because — "and don't tell me that I think it because I just haven't hit puberty yet!"

Richie gave him a toothy grin, "Aw, shucks, Eddie Spaghetti, you know me so well. When you see a pretty girl, like say, that one over there—" he pointed discreetly towards the girl on the hood —"you'll get that feeling of butterflies in your stomach and just think, 'Wow, I've just seen an angel.' I don't mean Bowers, I just-"

"Yeah, you mean his little sister." Eddie looked up to Richie for a response, only to see him at a loss for words, jaw dropping and face paling.

For once, Richie Tozier was speechless as Eddie laughed and slapped his back as Bill mentioned something about the Barrens and Georgie and finding him — even though everybody had long accepted the fact that Georgie wasn't just missing.

It was like a switch. Everything changed in that instant. It was like she grew fangs and claws, and he watched Patrick look at her like she hung the fucking moon. It was incredibly painful, but he assumed, in a sense, they deserved each other. It took a second before he realized what this would actually mean for him: having to worry about a double in the hallways — a hot double that could potentially fool him into forgetting her Bowers-ness — and someone else to make fun of him in ways that he'd never tjough imaginable.

Sure, Bowers wasn't awfully bright, but he sure as hell was creative when it came down to it.

"Gunner!" Richie heard Bowers (the boy one) laugh as she shoved him in the side, cackling along herself, cigarette never leaving her mouth — opting just to talk out of the side of it.

Oh, so her name must have been Gunner. That's unfortunate, he thought to himself. But then again, she seems awful, so maybe she just deserves it. He smiled to himself. "Tommy Lee, we've gotta start heading out soon."

Wait, so was it Tommy Lee? Or was it Gunner? Was that just the gang's nickname for her? More importantly, if it was, why the fuck would they choose a name like Gunner for her? Nothing was settling about that fact, and although Richie wasn't typically one to spiral, it was hard to control himself.

"You didn't tell me you had friends, Henny!" Tommy exclaimed girlishly, making Patrick spit out his sofa and slam his hand on the car hood, flicking out her cigarette and letting Patrick snuff it out. She put a hand on her heart. "Oh, you've grown up so fast! I remember it was just yesterday you took a massive shit in that kids backpack and had to do forty hours of community service!"

Richie could tolerate a lot of things. One thing he couldn't tolerate though, was not being able to chime in when his story was being used and told all wrong — or mentioned without his name. Luckily, he was spared his intervention by a howling Belch Huggins.

"It was four eyes!" Huggins nearly screamed, warning a howling laugh from Tommy and shove from Victor, followed by a point led by Patrick. "Yeah, him!"

Richie could feel his face heating up, but before he could say anything, the bright blue TransAM was firing up the engine, and was getting ready to peel out of the school parking lot like a man man was driving.

Bill was the first to say anything. "Sorry about that, Rich. Bowers is a real asshole."

"So is his sister," he made out through his teeth.

Richie saw himself as a 'go with the flow' kind of guy, but goddamn it, he wasn't going to let Tommy Lee shit all over him and get away with it.

He was too stubborn, too arrogant, and too proud to let that happen, but with only a second or two of knowing she existed, he knew she was the exact same way. He could get tell it with the way she walked and talker and immediately took control of some of the scariest kids in Derry Middle.

But she wouldn't come out on top of this one.

There's no way. He refused to let it happen. Letting her win would show everyone else that he was just a loser who couldn't stand up to a girl who's was going to beat the living daylights out of him if he looked at her the wrong way.

She already had Henry and Patrick and Belch on her side — an even, if not better, match to four decently sized seventh graders. There was no excuse for them to get beat.

Grinding his teeth and tearing his eyes away from her, laughing mischievous and almost secretly as she put her cigarette out on Belch's hood as not to be noticed by he coo around the corner (Rich didn't know that the cop around the corner was her father who would beat her till she couldn't stand if he caught her smoking) he said, "So, Barrens tomorrow, right Bill?"

And right as Tommy Lee Bowers and her newfound gang pulled out of the parking lot, she and Richie Tozier locked eyes and made a silent pact — an agreement — something they both agreed on — something he'd be thinking about all night and the whole next morning:

Derry is two small for the two of us.

[randomkposts]

Hello

I figured I should start with wall of quotes. Cause whynot

Quotes “It's hard to hate my prep team. They're such total idiots." - Katniss.”

“Here's some advice. Stay alive.” “The cat that Prim got hates me, I think partly because I tried to drown it.” “District 12: Where you can starve to death in safety.”“No. Now, shut up and eat your pears."

” It's lovely. If only you could frost someone to death." "Don't be so superior. You can never tell what you will find in the arena. Say it's a gigantic cake-”“Yes, frosting. The final defense of the dying.”

“Technically, I am unarmed. But no one should ever underestimate the harm that fingernails can do. Especially if the target is unprepared.”

"Well, leprechauns. You know they're not real, don't you?""Let us proceed under the assumption that the fairy folk do exist and that I am not a gibbering moron."

"I majored in Ancient History. You have your own page in the 'Criminally Insane' section."

"Really, Butler, I must begin choosing my business associates more carefully. Hardly a day goes by when we aren't the victims of some plot.""The punching is not helping my concentration, by the way.""Oh, brilliant. I must write that one down in my witty retorts book."

"The pixie is crazy! Give me your gun, Holly. I'm going to shoot him.""Excuse me, Captain. Are you two going to weep salty tears of admiration over a helmet all night, or do we have matters to discuss?"

"This is a well. You might think that there is something to it... But in fact it is just an ordinary well."

Woman in Ur : Hey, where are you four brats off to now? What...? You're going to go save the world...? Did you get hit on the head or something!?

Gilgamesh : Enough expository banter. It's time we fight like men. And ladies. And ladies who dress like men. For Gilgamesh...IT IS MORPHING TIME! Galuf : Bartz! Stop that! Bartz : But it's fun! poke, poke, poke... Bartz : Jumping Christmas!

Edgar : "That's Shadow! He'd slit his mama's throat for a nickel!" Kefka : "This is sickening! You sound like chapters from a self-help booklet! Prepare yourselves!" Locke : "Hey! Call me a TREASURE HUNTER, or I'll rip your lungs out!" Edgar : "If something were to happen to me, all the world's women would grieve!" Setzer : "My life is a chip in your pile. Ante up."

Yuffie : So! I saved the great Vincent Valentine! Do I get any thanks?

Squall : Right and wrong are not what separate us and our enemies. It's our different standpoints, our perspectives that separate us. Both sides blame one another. There's no good or bad side. Just two sides holding different views. Squall : I dreamt I was a moron...

Seifer : Great, I have one chicken-wuss and one kid who just entered puberty in my team! Squall : ...Whatever.

Auron: The red carpet has teeth. Auron: Outside the dream world, life can be harsh, even cruel, but it is life.

Rikku: Memories are nice, but that's all they are.

Kimahri: Pick spot. Shut up. Wait.

Rikku: Do you think we need a password? Paine: How about 'Kick..it's..ass' Paine : The hardest person to know is one's self.

Raogrimm: People are capable of kindness beyond angels, yet we also commit sins that would put a demon to shame... Lonely Chocobo: Warkkkkk!!! Gweh!!!! Warkkkk

Naja Salaheem : (After Abquhbah faints when he realizes that he's speaking to the empress) Nothing to be concerned about, Your Magnificence. Mercenaries are trained to sleep anywhere, anytime if the opportunity presents itself.

Lightning: Worst birthday ever. Lightning: It's not a question of can or can't. There are some things in life you just do. Lightning: We live to make the impossible possible! That is our focus!

White Mage: Hi. I was just wondering if you knew how much we've suffered because of you. Good day. [after finding the Falcon Rydia : It's not yours. Edge : That's okay, it would be happy to be used by us!

...That's General Leo.. He could be my friend if he weren't my enemy.

You think a minor thing like the end of the world was gonna do me in?

"What a cute doggy!' "Leave us. The dog eats strangers...'

This should be fun. When do we leave?

Read my lips - mercy is for wimps! There's a reason "oppose" rhymes with "dispose"...If they get in your way, kill them!I don't care for the appearance of this pitiful little hamlet... So burn it!!

Figaro Guard : Kefka's "One shy of a six pack!" Imperial soldier : I oppose peace! Narshe resident : Narshe is a neutral city.! We want no war here, but that %#$@& Empire won't listen! South Figaro Resident : We may be thieves, but at least we have goals in life!

Cyan: This is the Phantom Train. It carries the departed to the other side. Sabin : Wait! I don't want to go THERE!

Strago: Go to your room! Relm : I will not! What a fussy old man! Strago : Relm! Is that you, my dear? You're alive! Relm : Idiot! Of course I'm alive! Strago : Oh, I'm so happy..." Relm : Did you think I was gonna check out before you, old man? Strago : You're as foul mouthed as ever, bless your heart!

Shadow: I know what friendship is... and family...

"It's not my problem."

"Don't fight here! You'll ruin the flowers!" "I think they believe I have what it takes to be in SOLDIER!" "Mine is special. It's good for absolutely nothing!"

Don't need no appointment... This is a 'mergency! Anyone who don't wanna get their face bashed in better git outta the way!! "I've got the wrong person."

W-wait a second. I won't run or hide. Yes, I was a spy. I was hired by the Shinra. I couldn't help it. How 'bout if we continue like nothing ever happened?

Shut up! Sit your ass down in that chair and DRINK YOUR GODDAMN TEA!

This's gonna be a big splash. Hold on to your drawers, an' don't piss in 'em!!

Maybe God'd forgive an ugly shit like you, but I won't!

I don't know what the hell it is, but it's falling from the sky. Hmpf! It's not even an omen.

Hey, do you know who I am? I'm Cid—that's who the hell I am! Now just let me handle it!

I don't want to regret not having done something later.

I always thought this planet was so huge. But lookin' at it from space, I realized it's so small. We're just floatin' in the dark. ...kinda makes you feel powerless. On top of that it's got Sephiroth festerin' inside it like a sickness. That's why I say this planet's still a kid. A little kid sick and trembling in the middle of this huge universe. Someone's gotta protect it. Ya follow me? That someone is us.

We're busy runnin' back and forth! Even my bikini goddess would be pantin' about now!

Oh, GAWD! If I knew this was gonna happen, I would've taken rope escape lessons more seriously!!

Escape from a world of illusions... Hmph... I wonder which is better.

I know you want my help because I'm so good!

Cloud, put me in your party, so I can get off this ship. Cloud...sign this. It's a contract that says when the war is over, all the materia will belong to me.

The stars shine so bright, like glowing materia... reach up and grab one. GROSSNESS! Don't mess with me old man! You don't even have any Materia!

Citizens, unite! Come to the light, Mako energy. Power is truth. Shinra is the future. Real happiness can be found in obedience to the company People are ignorant. They'll feel better as long as someone is punished.

Godo : Go! Survive till the end! And return! With the Materia! Doctor in Mideel : You can see for yourself what things look like, but at least no one was seriously hurt. We're just very unhappy now. Junon soldier : I'm learning to be a delinquent soldier!! I just can't seem to get the hang of it! Reeve Tuesti : What may be a few to you was everything to those who died...

Barret : She ain't gonna show up. 'Least this time she didn't steal our materia. Guess we gotta be thankful for that. Yuffie : How could you say that!? I came all the way here after being seasick as a dog! I didn't go through all that just to have you guys have the best parts all to yourselves!

...A speech? Forget it. Cut the mic!

You're-going-to-like-me! You're-going-to-like-me! Did it work?

D-Do you have any...hot dogs left?

...The HELL! Man...Now this is what I call boring. This ain't right, man!

YOOOO!!! The HELL you doin'!!!?

I'm a pretty lucky guy. Hand in hand with two beautiful girls.

That is sooo vague!

Super-Duper-Mega-Bummer!!

Well, Zell was riding his T-Board in the hallways of Garden. He made a sharp turn and went straight into the woman's res...

Sharpshooters are loners by nature... We hone our instincts, pour our whole being in a single bullet. The pressure of the moment... An instant of tension... That's what... I have to face alone...

Well, fine then! We WILL have a good time!

Thanks for the support, but I never miss my target.

Well, we could skin this little guy and wear him as a disguise...

I say things that get a rise out of some people. Just don't let it bother you and we'll get along fine.

Ooh neato! A hole in the middle of no-where!

You've all heard this before. How life has infinite possibilities. I don't believe that one bit. There weren't many paths for me to choose. Sometimes, there would only be one. From the limited possibilities I faced, the choices I made have brought me this far. That's why I value the path I chose... I want to hold true to the path that HAD to be taken.

Let's just fire like crazy and make a big hole, BOOM!

...Speeding. Let's go arrest that student for violation of academy regulations. Listen up! Teamwork means staying out of my way. It's a Squad B rule.

This is the scene where you swear your undying hatred for me!

And so, Laguna runs for dear life. She got upset and put fruit jam in your shoes. You were almost in tears!

Fujin: DISTURBING.RAGE!SHOCK!GOOD. CONVENIENT.PERSUASION, USELESS. SEIZE!IGNORE.RUN!ELLONE? NOT HERE.FATIGUE POSSE... We are. We always will be. Because we're a posse, we want to help you. Whatever it takes to fulfill your dream, we're willing to do. But... You're being manipulated, Seifer. You've lost yourself and your dream. You're just eating out of someone's hand. We want the old you back! Since we can't get through to you, all we have now to rely on is Squall! It's sad... Sad that we only have Squall to rely on... Seifer! Are you still gonna keep goin'?

Big Sister: I can't wait until I meet a guy that I can scream at and exchange blows with!

Quistis : You're the squad leader. Good luck to you. Seifer : ...Instructor. I hate it when people wish me luck. Save those words for a bad student who needs them, eh? Quistis : Alright, then. Good luck, Seifer. Seifer : [to Fujin and Raijin] Add Instructor Trepe to the list. Zone : Our plan is to...Selphie : ...Blow it to smithereens with a rocket launcher!? Zone : [taken aback] ...Ahh...not quite... Rinoa : Oh, shut up! I made it like that on purpose. It represents my hatred towards Deling. Zell : Hatred, eh? Yeah...right. Selphie : It's one of the...ugliest things that I've ever seen in my life. You must really hate him.

You don't need a reason to help people.No cloud, nor squall shall hinder us!Piece of cake. I'm an escape artist.

In the end, it boils down to two simple choices. Either you do or you don't. You'd think with all the problems in this world, there'd be more answers. It's not fair... but that's the way things are. The choice is yours.

SON OF A SHOOPUFF!

Al Bhed is Al Bhed. Rikku is Rikku. Rikku swore to protect Yuna. And Rikku is not a liar. Kimahri can tell. So, she is a friend.

Why are you still here, sir? (pause as Auron looks at him) I beg your pardon. We Guado are keen to the scent of the Farplane.

Rikku : Did you...hit your head or something? Tidus : Um, you guys hit me. Rikku : Oh, right...do you remember anything before that?

Sometimes, when I got a lot on my mind, it just helps to go, "AAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"Once Lady Yuna fixes her hair, we leave." "Guard your emotions first, then guard your summoner." "Ha! Legendary guardian? I was just a boy. A boy about your age actually. I wanted to change the world too, but I changed nothing. That is my story." "Don't look to others for knowledge. This is your story."

Don't think it's just a game. Your life's on the line. "You. It's what's for dinner." You. Are. Hired."

Barkeep : Mish Yoona, what can I do for yoo?

Yuna : Duck Soup! Paine : Duck what?

Rikku : I'm gonna kick you in the spleen! Paine : Spleen?

Lightning : (to soldier).Nice gun. Noctis : Goodbye, whoever you are.

You sure are a keen observer of the obvious, kupo!

And I know some "little girls" who can kick your butt!

"You hit the Lord of the Titans in the eye with a blue plastic hairbrush."

Rachel: They asked me a lot of questions about you. I played dumb. Annabeth: Was it hard?"

"Love conquers all," Aphrodite promised. "Look at Helen and Paris. Did they let anything come between them?""Didn't they start the Trojan War and get thousands of people killed?" "Pfft. That's not the point. Follow your heart."'

“Ever had a flying burrito hit you? Well, it's a deadly projectile, right up there with cannonballs and grenades." "The ADHD part of me wondered, off-task, whether the rest of his clothes were made the same way. What horrible things would you have to do in your life to get woven into Hades' underwear?"

Rachel: You're a half-blood, too? Annabeth: Shhh! Just announce it to the world, how about? Rachel: Okay. Hey, everybody! These two aren't human! They're half Greek god! . . . They don't seem to care."-

"What I did next was so impulsive and dangerous I should’ve been named ADHD poster child of the year."

“You're a stalker with hooves." "I am not! I followed her to the Big House and hid in a bush and watched the whole thing.”

Well, we kind of tried to kill each other in a duel to the death." "I see. You tried the diplomatic approach.”

"Well, Percy, what have we learned today?""That three-headed dogs prefer red rubber balls over sticks?""No," "We've learned that your plans really, really bite!”

"Dude!" said a party pony as he unloaded his gear. Did you see that bear guy? He was all like: 'Whoa, I have an arrow in my mouth!”

“Boys are usually forbidden to have any contact with the Hunters. The last one to see this camp…” She looked at Zoe. “Which one was it?”"That boy in Colorado,” Zoe said. “You turned him into a jackalope.”Ah, yes.” Artemis nodded, satisfied. “I enjoy making jackalopes…”

“Christmas in the Underworld was NOT my idea. If I'd known what was coming, I would've called in sick. I could've avoided an army of demons, a fight with a Titan, and a trick that almost got my friends and me cast into eternal darkness. But no, I had to take my stupid English exam.”

“Meat!" he said scornfully. "I'm a vegetarian." "You eat cheese enchiladas and aluminum cans," I reminded him."Those are vegetables.”

"How about this: stealing is not always bad?""I don't think my mom would like that moral."

I thought about the lines Rachel had spoken in that creepy voice: about storm and fire and the Doors of Death. "Maybe," I said, "but it didn't sound so good.""No," said Apollo cheerfully. "It certainly didn't. She's going to make a wonderful Oracle!”

"My son here convinced me that perhaps I should prioritize my list of enemies." He glanced at me with distaste. "As much as I dislike certain upstart demigods, it would not do for Olympus to fall. I would miss bickering with my siblings. And if there is one thing we agree on - it is that you were a TERRIBLE father.”

Running with a drowsy child of Hades was more like doing a 3 -legged race with a life size rag doll.”

“Yay!' he said. 'Now we can eat peanut butter sandwiches and ride fish ponies! We can fight monsters and see Annabeth and make things go BOOM!”

“You know how teachers tell you the magic word is 'please'? That's not true. The magic word is 'puke'. It will get you out of class faster than anything else.”

" He tossed me a jar of thick green liquid—Greek fire, one of the most dangerous magical substances in the world. Then he threw me another essential tool of demigod heroes—duct tape”

“Juniper: Are you guys busy? Percy: Well, we’re in the middle of this game against a bunch of monsters and we’re trying not to die. Annabeth: We’re not busy. ”

Though "peanut butter" is a strange battle cry. It shall be as you say. But my son, pray this works."I am praying. I'm talking to you, right?"Oh . . . yes. Good point.”

“Let us find the dam snack bar," Zoe said. "We should eat while we can."Grover cracked a smile. "The dam snack bar?"Zoe blinked. "Yes. What is funny?""Nothing," Grover said, trying to keep a straight face. "I could use some dam french fries."Even Thalia smiled at that. "And I need to use the dam restroom." "I do not understand.""I want to use the dam water fountain," Grover said."And…" Thalia tried to catch her breath. "I want to buy a dam T-shirt."

"with great power... comes great need to take a nap"

“Oh no." I said panic rising in my chest. "No, no, no, Somebody get a can opener. I've got a god in my head!!”“Well," I said. "If you need me, I'll be outside, playing with sharp objects.”

“Fairness means everyone gets what they need. And the only way to get what you need is to make it happen yourself.”

“I guessed his name was Face of Horror. I wondered how long it had taken his mom to think of that. Bob? No. Sam? No. How about Face of Horror?”

“Now the tattoos," Zia announced."Brilliant!" I said."On your tongue," she added."Excuse me?”

“I just love family meetings. Very cozy, with the Christmas garlands round the fireplace and a nice pot of tea and a detective from Scotland Yard ready to arrest you.”

“Carter Kane, 14, died tragically in Paris when he was eaten by his sister’s cat Muffin.”

“There will be guards,” Bast said. “And traps. And alarms. You can bet the house is heavily charmed to keep out gods.” “Magicians can do that?” I asked. I imagined a big can of pesticide labeled God-Away.”

“I believe you, Sadie.""Oh really. I'm holding the bloody feather of truth, and you believe me. Well, thanks.”

I guess it started in London, the night our dad blew up the British museum.”

“The baboon is driving,” I noted. “Should I be worried?”

“Thank Ra!” She exclaimed. “Yeah, I’m alive.” “No, I almost jumped in after you. I hate the water!”

“Why did adults have to be so thick? They always say “tell the truth,” and when you do, they don’t believe you. What’s the point?”

“I must admit I’m impressed, Sadie. You controlled your magic and controlled Isis. And you, Carter, did well turning into a lizard.”

“That’s Narmer with the spoon,” I guessed. “Angry because the other bloke stole his breakfast cereal?”

“Most of Set’s forces were running towards our boat, screaming and throwing rocks (which tended to fall down and hit them, but no one says demons are bright).

"Great another mystery. I was about to suggest we ram Amos’s head against it and see if that worked.”

The stuff was so thick and rough, it made me wonder if the poor Egyptians had had to use toilet papyrus. If so, no wonder they walked sideways.”

“I looked back, but Bast and Sadie seemed fine. They were still staring at the water as if it were some amazing Internet video.”

. Why would someone display a rock? Aren't there enough of those in the world?”

“Dejardins was so stunned, he momentarily forgot how to speak English. "Ce n'est pas possible. On ne pourrait pas-”

[letstalksymphogear]

Symphogear, EP.4

Last time on Beverly Hills 90210!

Hibiki begins to understand the true nature of the Sam Reimi Spiderman trilogy as she lives the life of a superhero by night and a normal student by day in the most miserable way possible. Constant cockblocking from the duties she explicitly chose to do distance her from her significant other Miku, as it drives wedges into their friendlationship. As Hibiki breaks off a plan prepped weeks in advance to see rocks fall from the sky, she takes out her frustration on the local Kamen Rider villian rejects before coming up to see Tsubasa, only to be greeted by a new face...

Let us continue!

As the situation tenses between the three gi- hey! Hey, wait a minute! This is a flashback! That’s no fair. You’re just going to throw this to us while we’re trying to do this stuff? Get it together, show.

The show hauls our asses to a flashback, because God knows we needed one right now. It’s not just any flashback, though. It’s a flashback of our favorite redhead, Kanade!

In a straightjacket.

While everyone is staring.

“i dont usually do this but you’ve got a bad case of catch-these-handsitis”

“oh god, she’s so wild, and angry... i... why am i hoping she’s single...?”

“aye. this is the fate of all rabiosexuals out there.”

Kanade is tied down because she’s the sole survivor of a Noise attack, and more importantly, she really, really wants to fight the Noise. What she doesn’t know is that she is potentially a new candidate for a Symphogear relic.

“oh... we’d pair so well... our colors are diametrically opposed...”

“GIMMIE A FUCKING GUN AND A TEN PIECE CHICKEN MCNUGGET MEAL YOU GUY FIERI LOOKING ASSHOLE”

Genjuro, who suffers from Compulsive Child Adopting Syndrome (CCAS), immediately comes to the conclusion to adopt this tiny gremlin. It helps that her parents are, well, dead.

Fatherly instincts vibrating intensely.

Genjuro talks to this small child, who is currently 99% anger and 1% chicken fluff, scanning their conviction towards working to the goal of fighting the Noise.

In retrospect, his methods are a bit weird. Feeding into the extreme edginess of a 14 year old scorned isn’t exactly the best thing in the world. Unfortunately, as we established before, the only thing that can fight Noise are Symphogear, and the only reason he’s not in the front lines is because he can’t wield one.

Kanade naturally obliges this deal, her braincells having long since perished alongside her parents. Then Perish indeed, Kanade.

“buddy im being trained as a samurai in modern times and i still could not fathom going as hard as you”

The pact is sealed. The child is adopted. Genjuro’s adoption addiction relapses, and he’s going to have quite a long talk at AA (Adopters Anonymous).

The thing about Genjuro that makes him an interesting character is that he actually really, really, really hates the idea of having to pit children in fighting these horrible threats. Unlike a lot of male characters who have a strong sense of manliness but a poorly written way of expressing it, Genjuro manages to be a compassionate person in the face of all this terribleness. He’s the only person to think about throwing parties for these girls, and trying to give them any sort of sense of happiness and normalcy to their lives, now changed forever by machinations he has been put in charge of. He’s the Anti-Gendo. He doesn’t tell Shinji to get in the robot. He makes sure Shinji is well enough to be in the robot, and would never do so otherwise, knowing the mental toll.

That’s why ultimately, he is The Dad.

So, with that in mind, they prep Kanade to recieve the relic assigned to her. One of the major elements of using relics is compatibility. Kanade is not naturally compatible to Gungnir; they have to slowly ease her into it.

“mumble mumble cant wait to kick their asses mumble mumble”

This is a process that takes years. The show doesn’t do well in showing this, but it takes many, many years for her to be compatible after endless medical examinations and controlled situations.

The experiments, naturally, hurt like a bitch to boot.

“genjuro she’ll be okay, right?”

“flip a coin on it, tsubasa”

“oh shit yall see this news? pornhubs gonna buy tumblr! damn, i can make an all in one profile now.”

When you’re forced to watch your newly adopted daughter torture herself to be compatible with an ancient, musty cursed relic.

After all that, Kanade still isn’t compatible. Of course, nothing is simple with Kanade. You may ask yourself, “Why did Genjuro have to tie up Kanade in a straitjacket? That seems pretty abusive.”

Simply put, it’s because Kanade has never fucked around in any second of her life, having taken off all the devices on her, taken a direct syringe of the stuff she’s trying to synchronize with, and directly inject it into her, herself.

Fear.

“i am so SICK, and TIRED, of all this namby pamby wimpy ass standard shit. YALL MOTHERFUCKERS THINK I WONT GO FULL THROTTLE?! MY LIFE IS FULL THROTTLE. I! AM! GONNA! GET! SHIT! DONE! TONIGHT! BOYYYYS!”

Tsubasa, likely already going through puberty by this point, simultaneously understands both the concepts of fear and arousal witnessing this near suicidal display of absolute madness immediately.

Holy shit, Kanade.

You know shit’s bad when even Ryoko is afraid.

Turns out, however, that Kanade did the right move in becoming compatible with Gungnir, at a very physically demanding price.

Really, physically demanding.

“shouldnt have had that massive spaghetti carbonara before doing all this shit but fuck i really liked that fuckin’ spaghetti slorp slorp go the sauce ooooooooh god this is bad”

“HAHA IM FINE- IM FINE EVERYONE- THIS- THIS IS JUST THE SPAGHETTI- I HAD BEFORE THE- BEFORE THE PROCEDURE IT’S NOT- IT’S NOT BLOOD I SWEAR- OH I AM FEELING LIGHTHEADED- DON’T WORRY YOUR PRETTY HEADS IM GOOD! OH- OH FUCK-”

The scientists, who have been easily staring at this entire situation for more than 5 minutes or more, have not stepped in to do a single damn thing, as if overpowering a 14 year old to stop her from injecting a dangerous thing that could directly kill her is completely out of their paygrade. Genjuro wakes them the fuck up and likely briefly contemplates firing some of these morons.

“so this is what’s called... getting lost in the sauce...”

The scientists scramble to keep Kanade from vomiting more marinara sauce but Kanade exerts but a mere fraction of her now developing Symphogear abilities, knocking them all out with ease.

“this is some shit right here, damn”

Kanade pulls some Independence Day theatrics on everyone, as a 14 year old on the verge of death typically would if given the opportunity. Death may be certain but you at least get to go out in style. Will Smith would be proud.

The half-life of Tsubasa’s fearousal reached completion as it has mostly decayed into fear at this point.

However, the relic pendant begins glowing. This is likely the one thing that keeps Kanade from dying. An interesting comparison given Hibiki’s own survival and gear manifestation.

Kanade achieves super saiyan.

“THEY ALL SAID I WAS LOST IN THE SAUCE... AND THEY ALL THOUGHT THE SAUCE WAS LOST IN ME. BUT NOW... I AM THE SAUCE!”

Tsubasa’s fear directly transmutes itself back into arousal per the first law of alchemy. Something to note is that Tsubasa was naturally receptive to her own gear; she didn’t need to go through the medical process Kanade went through. It’s because of this that Kanade earns Tsubasa’s admiration for life, even long after she dies.

“THE SAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUCCCEEEEEEEEEE”

And so, the unambiguously gay duo known as Zwei Wing formed. Singers by day...

Noise slayers by night.

Saving the country, singing in the country, bonding together... in the country. Truly, there is no more iconic duo than these two.

“yall sing pretty”

“anyway bye”

Kanade’s initial motivation for getting Gungnir was to kill the Noise indiscriminately with no hesitation. It slowly dawns on her, though, that helping people... is good?

“the sauce lost me. i got lost in the sauce. i became the sauce. but... why don’t i... share, the sauce? because... people like sauce... and i like sauce... and we can bond together... liking sauce!”

Kanade and Tsubasa have a Captain America moment running together as Kanade muses about how singing for other people feels way better than just pure murder funtimes.

“hey, uh... tsubasa... it just hit me. i like sauce. and... you, you like sauce. do... do you want to share sauce together?”

“kanade as your girlfriend ive literally heard you talk about sauce metaphors for the last several years and if you dont think i wont slurp your sauce down without hesitation you’ve got another thing coming”

“hell yeah! ive still got some of my original leftover marinara to share!”

No heterosexual explanation whatsoever.

Not a damn one.

Oh yeah...! Because by shedding tears, the reality you face is...

Nehushtan? Weird end of a sentence, but okay.

We’re thrust back into the present time, present day, as we’re back in our three way throwdown.

Genjuro is an extra large McFuckingPissed with Large Fries and a Shake, supersized.

“you want some sauce with that? lmao, sorry, too soon”

As the werewolves come out in full force, the tension strengthens while a battle brews nearby...

“yall think you’re getting your hands on this goddamn armor without realizing im officiating this here gay pride parade. and guess what? you’re cancelled.”

“didn’t know clowns were part of the acronym, let alone capable of managing it. either way, you’ve gotta be at least this tall to use the armor.” 

“so why not make like a hobbit, drop the armor, and burrow back to whatever hidey hole you came from, bimbo baggins!”

“guess you didnt read the books, moron. last i checked, bilbo doesn’t lose his traveling partners.”

“that low blow only comes at the cost of outing yourself as a fucking nerd.”

“im not ashambed. im gonna blow your mind with some math: my foot, plus your face, subtracting the teeth from your mouth, equals an ass kicking.”

“NOTHING IN THAT FORMULA INVOLVES ANY ASS WHATSOEV-”

Hibiki gets in the way immediately, citing the ethical ramifications of fighting humans as opposed to talking to them, conveniently forgetting this was the same person ready to body her merely an episode or two ago.

“hey first of all please don’t say bimbo thats really degrading, and second of all clowns aren’t actually in the acronym but im sure there are some gay clowns out there so please dont talk like that and thirdly im sorta short and that hurt my feelings and fourthly killing is fucking bad, tsubasa, let us not commit human on human murder”

both of them, in unison, i shit you not:

“yo, you like murder? shit. i like murder too!”

“like oh my god! murder is my favorite hobby. i take it back, you’re chill. still gotta die, though.”

Hibiki is casually tossed aside from this fight, given her very ideas are anti-thetical to fighting as a whole.

A real sick battle ensues.

Something to note is that our spunky opponent has another relic at her disposal which summons Noise. This relic is called Solomon’s cane. You’ll learn more about it later.

Not a pretty sight.

Tsubasa is losing. Not only is she losing, but the enemy cool kid reveals a very notable detail of her plan: She was distracted Tsubasa on purpose. The real plan...

Was to kidnap Hibiki.

In an ironic twist, Tsubasa’s inability to work with her teammate not only put her teammate in danger, but explicitly allowed her opponent to fulfill her mission of trying to capture her.

“i changed my mind kick her ass please oh god”

Hibiki still has not learned her lesson.

Tsubasa gets her ass kicked. Her opponent pulls every punch in the book, with some lowdown dirty fighting.

Unfortunately, Tsubasa, having learned from the Kanade Amou Private School Of No Brain Cell Combat, she pulls the last ace from her sleeve.

“lmao bitch whatre you gonna do, sing?”

“i didnt design my hair like a fucking 8th note for nothing, you cabbage patch kid”

“then let’s hear it, motherfucker.”

[giranswife]

A Taste of Power

Summary: The beginning of a ruthless, angry werewolf. She’s done holding herself back and being the victim. It’s now her turn to fight, and she doesn’t like to play nice.

W: self-insert, angst, violence, bullying, alcohol mention

(( Note: ALRIGHT SO, this is my villain’s origin story. It’s very heavy, which is why I have so many warnings. Please, be careful to read those above before you check this out. It gets very heavy and has themes that might make people uncomfortable. This is also my villain insert, so just keep that in mind. A lot of her stories will be dark, obviously. Just want to warn you guys enough, but I went really heavy on the writing bc I was enjoying writing this a lot. ))

There was always a beast inside of me.

It’s ravenous and blood thirsty, hidden away in the depths of my insides.

A dormant monster just waiting for the perfect moment to awaken.

I felt it getting stronger every night, but mostly during a bright full moon. The changing didn’t begin until I hit puberty. Right at the pinnacle of my hormonal changes and growth, the perfect time to unleash my inner rage. Like a covered cauldron, boiling close to its breaking point. Being that young with a power that you don’t even understand yet… it’s a disaster waiting to happen.

For a long time, I didn’t believe that I had a quirk. Not a strong one anyway. From the day I was born I was just the wolf girl with ears and a tail. I may have had parts of a wolf and acted like a wolf since birth, but I had no other signs of having anything else special about me. No powers other than a keen sense of smell and hearing. And any other tendencies that a wolf might have.

Most of the things that I dealt with was name calling and attempts at grabbing my ears and tail all the damn time. It was humorous to mock me, because I was nothing special than a dog. A dirty, rotten, grumpy dog that no one ever wanted to be around. Not even my own parents wanted me. The only family I had ever known was my uncle, and he was never around either.

Too busy conning people out of their money on busy streets, pickpocketing and other shit that I could only imagine. When he came home, the last thing he wanted to do was pay attention to me. Not that I’d want him anywhere near me. He’s always too rough and too loud. He grips my ears so roughly and yanks them when I’m disobedient.

If he doesn’t respect me, then why should anyone else?

“You couldn’t have been born with some god damn wings or fire powers? Maybe then we’d have a nicer place and more opportunities.”

“Don’t think you’re getting dinner tonight, sweet pea. I don’t have enough money to feed your god damn animal stomach. Go fetch a rabbit or somethin’. Make yourself fucking useful for a change.”

“Get back inside. None of those kids want to play with a goddamn animal. Especially not a smelly one like you.”

I was tired of crying. Tired of listening to all of the nasty things that everyone had to say about me. The weight of everything began to pile onto my shoulders, until it was difficult to breathe. Even as an innocent child I learned right away that I couldn’t rely on anyone but myself. The bubbling inside me began to grow and grow, until there was a fire in my veins that I had never felt before.

It was like something had snapped inside of me. The inner monster inside me was rattling its cage, and it knew that I was on the brink. Feeding off of my unstable emotions, taking advantage of the weakest parts of myself.

The final straw for me was when a couple of kids in the class above me decided to pick on me one final time. Grabbing my tail and yanking it so hard that I tumbled backwards and dropped my books. The puddle that I fell into was murky, and mud decorated my uniform completely soaking me from head to toe.

The tallest boy, I remember his name being Futoshi. Had some kind of plant quirk and would always use it for ridiculous things. Mainly just to be an obnoxious boy and sometimes a perv. And yet he would always mock me for being a useless, wolf girl. Sometimes teased me for being cute in a gross way that made me uncomfortable.

“I thought you liked that, Wolf-Girl.”

“My name’s Ashley, you dimwit.”

“Ouch. Nice insults, fluffy. Where’d you learn them, the back of a cereal box?”

I narrowed my eyes and tried to stand up, only to slip back into the puddle.

The bubbling in my veins was beginning, but I never could have predicted that it was anything else than just a thing. I was never told any different. But how could I prepare for something like this?

The rest of the kids laughed at me, but at this point I was extremely numb to it. All I wanted was to get up and walk home at this point. There was no use going to school if I couldn’t even make it in the door.

It never made sense to me why they would mock me. I get that kids are assholes, but… there were plenty of students with weird quirks. Each and every one of them were different and that was what was so cool about having a quirk. It was the quirkless that were usually mocked, depending on who they were.

It must have just been me. I must have been an easy target.

“I think we should probably teach you some manners. A dog should be well trained.”

“I’m a wolf. Not a fucking dog.”

Finally, I was able to stand up, throwing my books down once I realized they were too soaked. My jaw clenched with anger, and I felt my fingernails digging into my skin. I wasn’t upset or on the brink of tears anymore. I was fucking pissed. Angry and tired of fighting against the current of my emotions.

I was done letting them walk all over me. I was finished being the victim. They were going to know what it felt like to be me for a change.

They laughed at my power stance, Futoshi using his quirk to grab at my ankles with vines that popped up from the ground. When I didn’t jolt or act surprised, he just found it amusing. It’s almost funny looking back on this now, because I’d never believe for a second that he would be a hero today.

“Let’s teach you some tricks, doggy. Now, why don’t you sit!”

The second that he whipped his vines forward, I felt something deep within me break. The cages erupted and the beast was finally released. It was a slow process from the inside out, but to them on the outside it was merely a few seconds at best.

My fangs were exposed through my clenched jaw, a loud growl sounding from deep within my chest. The color of my eyes began to shift to a violent red, the intensity growing with the anger pulsing through my veins. The kids surrounding me slowly started to become a little scared, and that was only the beginning.

“I said… I’m not a fucking dog!”

My voice was almost a demonic growl, another loud sound escaping from my throat. The first things to change were my feet, fur beginning to grow from my body and long claws lengthening from them. Slowly, the rest of my body began to take shape, growing massively in size. It wasn’t necessarily a pleasant experience, but I was too angry to feel much of it.

The beast within me had finally been exposed. It was finally free from the bindings, and the rumbling that I felt when I howled was chilling. It is a part of me, but sometimes I forget that it can take over. When I let myself become this angry and impulsive, I have little to no control over what it does.

That is why I still can’t really remember exactly what happened that day.

The minute that I shifted, it was almost like I had blacked out. I didn’t wake up again until I was in a hospital bed, hooked up to monitors with a wound in my side. That was the first time that I saw myself for what I truly was. A caged monster, or a girl that was being held hostage by a monster. But I refused to believe that I wasn’t in control.

Futoshi and his gang were badly injured, but they were fine. They were able to restrain me long enough to get them to safety, but they weren’t there soon enough. I knew that I was going to be in a lot of trouble, but I didn’t even care. When one of the pro-heroes came to talk to me to discuss what happened and give me a lecture on the importance of controlling my quirk, I couldn’t care less.

This wasn’t the first time I had felt this way to authority before, but I was done listening. I was done being lectured when I was just protecting myself. I was also amazed by my own power that I didn’t even know that I had. All my life I thought that I was just somewhat special with my looks, and all along I was a werewolf.

There was a new power that I had just discovered, and it was strong. That didn’t even scare me like it would to anyone else. In fact, it was an awakening for me. A discovery that I intended to use to my advantage. I wasn’t going to be the underdog anymore. I was going to keep the promise that I gave to myself before.

Now, I just had a better reason to do so.

Starting with the one person that made me feel small. When they should have made me feel strong and loved.

That night I came home to my uncle sitting his happy ass down in front of the TV again. Not even an ounce of worry for me or where I had been all damn day. I wasn’t surprised, and this just sealed his fate in my eyes.

I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to do this again, but it would be a great test run. Now that I felt my power coursing through my veins, I felt like I had finally found my purpose. Finally found something that I could use to my advantage. A way for me to not only get my revenge, but escape this terrible hell that I was born into.

Stepping in front of the television, I tilted my head and stared down at the filthy man in front of me. I could tell he hadn’t moved all day, especially from all the beer cans littering his feet. He was totally useless, and he had the gall to mock me. What a waste of breath.

“Get out of the way.”

“You even going to ask what happened to me today?”

He didn’t answer. Not that I expected any less from him.

“I’ve been in the hospital. My teacher supposedly called you. Don’t worry, one of the heroes gave me a ride home.”

“Okay, whatever. Just move.”

“No.”

I felt the familiar clench of my jaw, and the sound that escaped next wasn’t a sound that I expected to make.

Seeing him glance at me, his body starting to stiffen a bit was the best part of my entire day. My eyes were glowing red once again, and I took a small step forward. Even though I was still fairly small compared to him and wasn’t really a threat, this time I was no longer scared of upsetting him.

“Go on, girl. Go to bed and… get out of my sight,” Uncle mumbled.

“I said… no…”

“I’m not gonna tell you again--”

“You’re not the boss of me anymore. I’m not going to let you bully me ever again. You or anybody else!”

This was when he started to stand up from his seat, getting a little scared but also pissed. It was just the look I wanted to see from him.

“I’m getting real tired of your shit! You little brat!”

He went to grab me, but I ducked just in time. It was like my movements had gotten a bit more precise, but it was mainly just my hearing and senses. Plus, with him being drunk it was a lot easier to predict his movements. Which also makes him an easier target.

“That was a mistake,” I growled, more inhuman this time.

“You are the child! I am the adult! You do what I say!”

“Not anymore. You think just because you’re an adult you get to treat me this way. You and everyone else think that you have some kind of power over me. But not anymore. I make the rules. I decide who lives and who dies.”

That was when I felt my anger reach another breaking point. But this time, I promised to be awake for this. My body slowly shifted one at a time once again, and I could see the fear cross my uncle’s face. It was sweet and humorous. I’d never seen a man become so terrified, and I was almost beginning to pity him.

Almost.

“What the fuck!”

The growl that escaped my mouth next was pure animal. I’d never felt more alive in that moment in my entire life. I never felt more in control of my own destiny. No longer was I going to be the victim. I refused to let anyone walk all over me again.

There wouldn’t be any more tears or heartbreak. No more unwanted attention or fear. Instead, I would be the thing that everyone else fears. It will be my turn.

I had tasted power for the first time, and I was hungry for more.

[the-angry-pixie]

Ok but what if... Mike was really homophobic...

Bear with me, I’m going somewhere with this I swear. And the way is  BYELER. 

Major Warning - this fic explores and deals with homophobia, abusive behaviour, self-destructive/self-hate behaviour, bullying, hate speech/slurs and dub-con. Let me be explicit, MIKE displays all of these tendencies in this fic. Please do not read if you don’t think this will be your cup of tea. Please keep yourself safe and heed the warnings. 

ETA BECAUSE PEOPLE STILL DON’T SEEM TO BE GETTING IT: Mike in this story is very OOC. Like it says right there in the title - this is a WHAT IF story. I don’t actually think Mike’s character is like this. Oy vey.

This started as a story prompt for other writers. Then it became like a HC post, and now its like a weirdly formatted 6000 word wholeass story under the cut. I didn’t mean for it to get so long....

- ok so its like an AU where the upsidedown and Eleven didn’t happen

- what if Mike broke from the group when they entered high school

- like what if instead of puberty hitting him in all the wrong ways, it instead hit him in all the right ways. maybe those long limbs earned him a spot on the basketball team and he becomes a bit of a jerkish popular jock

- further to that, what if... what if he joined in on the bullying of Will in a BIG way

- Will was being teased for being a “fairy” before any of that upsidedown business happened. That’s a canonical fact.

- Of course Will is devastated the first time Mike calls him a “fag” and stands by as two other jocks push him to the ground and throw his bag in the garbage 

- Of course he doesn’t know what to do when he sees Mike among the group of individuals hightailing it away from his locker, spray-paint can in hand, as Will approaches and beholds the slurs and horrible drawings graffiti-ed across his own and the neighbouring lockers

- he can take the other guys being jerks but Mike, who he has practically known all his life... he doesn’t know how to respond to that, he doesn’t know how to fight back against that. 

- Its not even like he ever even told Mike the truth about his sexuality. Will was careful to hide his feelings. There’s no way he could know... so why does Mike always act like this is personal? Like Will is personally offending him just by existing?

- it goes on for years. Will getting by as best he can with the constant bullying and the help of Dustin and Lucas who remain by his side, even after he tells them the truth, that all the rumours are true, that he is what they say he is.

- it all comes to a head one night. Will walking through town after seeing a movie with the guys. He thinks he will go visit his Mom at work and bum a ride home hopefully. He see’s the group of jocks hanging out in the street, Mike among them, arm around some anonymous girl. They look rowdy, they look drunk. Will is nervous and crosses the road ducking into an alley to take an alternative route. He doesn’t know that Mike saw him.

- He thinks he’s home free when he emerges from the mouth of another alley, but Mike is waiting for him, leaning against the wall in the shadows. He pushes him back into the alley with a “where do you think you’re going Byers?”

- Will is somewhat relieved to see Mike is alone, maybe he can be talked out of whatever he has planned. And so he isn’t ready for the first shove that smacks him back against the brick wall. 

- “I asked you a question Byers! Where the fuck do you think you’re going?!” and Will can see fire blooming in Mike’s eyes as he tries to sidestep him but only gets shoved back against the wall again, this time banging his head so hard that black splotches swim in front of his eyes

- And suddenly all of Mike’s 6′3 frame is pinning Will against the wall and he can smell the alcohol on his breath

- “Please Mike...”

- “Shut up faggot! Is that what you’re doing back here. Meeting one of your faggoty friends? Sucking his cock like the fucking disgusting queer you are?”

- The terror is building inside Will. He never thought he would ever feel this way around Mike but here they are and he feels like his lungs might be collapsing

- “Mike...”

- “You think you’re better than me don’t you. That you’re above it all. The way you walk around that school. Looking the way you do. But you’re wrong. I know what you are. You’re nothing. I am better than you, in every fucking way. I am.”

- “Mike please...”

- But there are fingers clutched around his jaw and Will’s eyes are wide open as there are suddenly lips mashed against his. A tongue violently invading his mouth and teeth clacking painfully against his own.

- The kiss is brutal and furious and tastes of cheap booze. Nothing gentle or affectionate about it. But for a moment Will forgets every horrible thing that has ever happened to him at the hands of the boy in front of him because... 

... because he doesn’t think he has ever heard anything as... as sad as the anguished groan that almost sounds like it is being ripped from Mike’s throat. 

- Will remains perfectly still, neither participating in the kiss or pulling away from it. He couldn’t even if he wanted to. Mike’s grip is just so desperate.

- Slowly the taller boy pulls away. His eyes are bright and wild as he steps back panting heavily.

- Will can’t move, can barely think, his head is throbbing and he needs time to process what just happened. Mike’s voice is low and threatening and slashes through the silence.

- “If you tell anyone, I’ll fucking kill you.”  And with his sleeve rubbing harshly against his mouth, he runs away.

- So now Will knows Mike’s secret. And everything makes a little more sense, but not a lot.

- And he could have left it at that. Gone on as usual and never acknowledged what had happened in that alleyway ever again.

- But Will cant. This is Mike... and no matter what he’s become... to Will he is still that boy that was his best friend for years. Who he used to patch up whenever he would do something reckless like ride his bike with no hands or climb a tree that was way too flimsy to hold his weight. The boy who had cried and admitted to him that he sometimes felt so lonely when he went home from sleepovers it was like his insides were clenching in on themselves... trying to turn him inside-out, or maybe make him disappear altogether. The one who never made fun of him for being afraid of the dark and sometimes even held his hand as they fell asleep beside each other...

... the one he had been well on his way to falling in love with before Mike had... become what he’d become.

- So he pursues it. He approaches the bear completely ready to poke. But Mike doubles down on either pretending he doesn’t exist, or throwing insults at him like he is being paid for it. Will can’t seem to get a moment alone with him.

- and so Will bites the bullet and sneaks into Mike’s room to wait for him to get home from practice one night. It’s no trouble, they used to climb through each others windows all the time before... 

- at first Mike does not react well. He rages, he threatens, he denies. But he doesn’t lay a hand on Will. And that is his trump card. As long as Mike doesn’t physically hurt him, he can take the verbal beating. He knows Mike is confused. And he knows how scary that can be.

- and so he accepts Mike’s weak-at-best excuses. That he was drunk and didn’t know what he was doing. That he was horny because Sally Davidson had cock-blocked him earlier that night. That Will was so goddamn girly looking that anyone could get switched around on a dark night. Will sits on Mike’s bed and nods with a wry eyebrow raised that he knows Mike sees and then.... he leaves. He makes sure to make eye contact with Mike before ducking out the window though. Tells him if he ever needs to talk, he’ll be there.

- things don’t necessarily improve for Will after that... but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t notice that Mike is no longer an active participant in his bullying. Maybe its just a coincidence that Mike just happens to never be around. Will chooses to believe it isn’t. But he has to test the theory. He has to push a little harder.

- So he takes another chance and climbs through Mike’s window a second time about a week later. He doesn’t allow Mike enough time to cuss him out this time. Just sits on the edge of his bed and starts chatting away as if they are good friends. As if nothing’s changed. He asks him about Holly. He asks him about Nancy. His parents. He asks how practice went. Has Mike thought about college yet. Etc etc.

- To his utter surprise, Mike stares at him for a long time, sighs, collapses into his desk chair, spins around a bit staring at the ceiling and... begins to talk

- He finds out that Holly is an insufferable terror that Mike hates to love. That Nancy stopped checking in after awhile and barely ever comes home for holidays. He finds out that Mike still hates Ted’s fucking guts and also hates that he wants to impress him so much. He finds out that Karen drinks too much and that Mike keeps a stash of confiscated bottles under his bed that he has no guilt about dipping into on nights where he feels like it. He doesn’t learn anything about basketball practice because “what the fuck would you know about sport faggot?” And he learns nothing about college because apparently Mike doesn’t like to think about the future too much because “whats the point...?”

- Will leaves again the way he came. There are no pleasantries, no “we should do this again”. Just an instinctual knowing that Will has to keep pushing whatever this is. Because there is something desperately wrong with Mike. He can feel it.

- but he doesn’t know what he can do. He talks about it vaguely with Dustin and Lucas, carefully leaving Mike’s name out of it. It is Dustin that first floats the word “depression” into the conversation. And it fits. And it scares Will.

- Will hasn’t had cause to observe Mike closely for a long time. But he observes him that week. Observes how he almost seems glassy-eyed and not present when he sits at lunch with his friends. How a frown creases between his eyebrows when Sally leans over to kiss him that disappears before she leans back and has a chance to see it. That the only time he seems genuinely happy is when he is on the court and he is concentrating so devastatingly hard on bringing his team success.

- And if Will’s heart just happens to flutter a bit with the new intimate knowledge of just how sharp Mike’s cheekbones have become, or the cute way he wipes sweat from his brow, or how his lips go cherry red after he’s been chewing on them... well that’s another thing entirely and not what matters right now.

- Will was just considering whether he should visit Mike’s windowsill a third time when a mysterious note appears in his locker. “Come help me with my science homework nerd. Wednesday night. I’ll leave the window open. - M” and Will’s heart just might do a little dance.

- It quickly becomes apparent that Mike does not need any help with his science homework. He knows most of the answers when Will tries to quiz him. Maybe Will shouldn’t be surprised. Mike had always been smart, no matter what sort of meatheaded company he keeps these days. But then if he didn’t need help, then why was Will here?

- He keeps the charade going though because he can’t deny, Mike being nice to him is a bit of an addictive activity. And he is being nice, all condescending comments about nerdism aside. He hasn’t called him faggot once tonight. Thats progress!

- He even asked about Will’s mom as he was leaving that night. And so, with one leg hanging out the window, bewildered expression on his face, Will tells him that Joyce is well. That she smokes too much and worries about Jonathan at college, and puts too much effort into yelling at Lonnie on the phone to pay child support, and wishes Will and the boys would hold their D&D campaigns at their house instead of Lucas’s because she doesn’t like Will biking home late at night

- Is it just Will’s imagination or does Mike’s face almost look wistful as he talks on? Mike blinks it away pretty quickly though as he scoffs and turns away from the window. “whatever, later nerd”. And that’s that.

- Life goes on. Mike still pretty much ignores him at school. But Will will take that over the bullying any day.

- The second time things come to a head is again late at night with Mike drunk, and Will completely sober. He’s just finished a campaign, but chosen to not sleepover at Lucas’ like Dustin. And so he’s walking his bike in the dark, enjoying the crisp evening and the view of Ursa Major. Must be close to 1am when a car screeches past him. 

- Curious, he pauses at the end of a cul-de-sac. Of Mike’s cul-de-sac he notes with interest. He watches as the car pulls up outside Mike’s neighbour’s house. Watches as a figure stumbles out of the car. Notes a few laughs and cheers emerging from inside the car and then watches in horror as the car pulls away and drives off.

- He knows instinctually that the figure is Mike, and he can gather that he must be drunk by the slumped way he is down on one knee, hands to the grass and appears to just be staring at the ground breathing.

- What kind of fucked up friends just leave like that?! Not even helping him inside?! Not even making sure they are in front of the right fucking house!! 

- Will is full of indignant anger! And it is this anger that drives him to march over and bend down and ask if Mike is okay. 

- “Where the fuck did you come from??”

- “Doesn’t matter, can you walk? C’mon big guy, lets walk.”

- Will is so fucking grateful the door to the basement is unlocked. The state that Mike’s in, he’s fairly sure they couldn’t have handled a quiet entrance through the front door, and definitely not sneaking through Mike’s second story bedroom window.

- He does not expect the rush of nostalgia that momentarily overtakes him as soon as he lays Mike down on the same old couch that was there when he was 10 fucking years old.

- Rinses out a cup at the same old laundry tub and fills it with water for Mike. Walks past the same old shelves laden with familiar board games - though they appear to be collecting dust... its all a bit discombobulating

- There are a few differences of course. Will can see the old playing table and chairs stacked into a corner. The comics that used to stand proudly on the shelves by the board games have disappeared. Probably in storage or maybe even given away...

- He looks to the boy in front of him as he puts the cup on the coffee table. Probably the most changed thing of all in this dusty old basement.

- “Do you still write Mike?”

- “Huh?” Mike’s head doesn’t even lift from where it is leaning against the back of the couch. Will stands awkwardly off to the side. Not sure if he should sit or not. He feels like he’s invading.

- “Like short stories. You used to write these really neat short stories. Do you still do that?”

- He watches as Mike’s brow furrows in concentration. After a short silence Mike utters vehemently “Course not. Writing’s for faeries”.

- Of course it is. Will thinks sourly. Why do I even fucking bother? He feels angry and tired and suddenly a great yearning to be home. To be away from here.

- He starts to shuffle towards the door, not really looking forward to the cold ride home, but he feels like he’s done all he needs to do here. Time to go-- 

- “At least, that’s what Ted always says...”

- Will pauses at the doorway and looks back. Mike’s head has popped up over the back of the couch. His eyes look wide and stricken, like he’s shocked to see Will leaving. 

- “Ted’s an asshole” Will murmurs.

- Mike chews on his lip for a few moments. “I know. I hate him. But... he doesn’t like me either so I guess fairs fair.” Mike turns and sits properly on the couch. With only the view of the back of his head, Will hears him mutter. “It’s funny, I always thought parents were meant to at least like their children but I guess mine are the exception...” 

- He sounds more sober. And Will considers keeping on walking but... the way Mike is sitting... he looks so small, so lonely and so... haunted. Will carefully approaches and sits at the very opposite end of the couch.

- “I’m sure Karen likes you...” he tries to reassure but Mike is already shaking his head.

- “Karen is in no state to like anyone. She checked out on emotions a long time ago... I guess she passed that along to me right? Not just the drinking habits. How twee.”

- “Mike...” Will doesn’t really know what to say.

- “Nancy definitely doesn’t like me... doesn’t talk to me anymore. She says I’ve changed. Says who I’ve become is ugly or rotten or... something like that so... that’s another person to add to the party.” At this Mike pauses to stare at his clasped hands before letting out a barking laugh that has Will worrying about him waking the people upstairs. “Fuck man!” Mike exclaims. “I’m pretty sure even my friends don’t even like me all that much! So there we have it! Nobody likes Michael Andrew Wheeler! Game, set, match!”  

- “I like you...” Will whispers and the words are out before Will even realises he’s the one talking.

- He watches as Mike’s head whips around to stare at him intensely. Feels caught by the dark gaze. Mike is moving closer to him, sliding along the couch until he is directly next to Will. Making Will feel pinned like a small struggling animal inside a trap.

- “Do you really?” Mike’s voice is deep and serious.

- All Will can manage is a slow nod.

- Mike bites his lip releasing it into a small predatory smile.

- “Good. Prove it.”

- And they are kissing. Will kind of knew it was coming this time. Doesn’t mean he is prepared for the harsh way Mike grips at his face and then his neck, moving eventually down to his shoulders jerking him forward. His sharp breaths that Mike seems to swallow as his mouth seals itself against Will’s. This isn’t the first time Will has french kissed, but this time there is nothing caressing or gentle about what Mike’s tongue is doing in his mouth. Will isn’t sure if he likes it. Kissing shouldn’t feel like a fight should it? he thinks dazedly.

- He tries to retreat from the kiss, to pull it back just a little. Make it something not so... not so aggressive. But Mike just grips at his shoulders all the more desperately.

- A throaty moan, a mirror to the one Mike uttered in the alleyway that night. The one that almost sounds like its laced with pain. And suddenly Will’s hand is being grabbed and unceremoniously thrust against the front of Mike’s jeans where he can feel the hard line of his erection.

- Whatever trance Will had been operating under breaks at that. He wrenches himself backwards, feels the hot lines of broken skin where Mike’s fingernails drag against his hand that he pulls away.

- Will tries to sound firm even though he currently feels like he might shatter if pushed too hard. “You can’t keep doing this to me Mike. I-Its not appropriate and its not... nice!”

- Mike looks... Mike looks upset... then he looks annoyed, then he looks thunderous.

- “Fine. Fuck off then faggot.”

- “Mike...” Will could feel tears gathering in his eyes.

- “No really. Fuck off. I thought all of you queers were meant to be begging to get something in your mouth. I must have the most prudish fag in town right in front of me here.”

- “Stop it. You don’t mean that. Any of it.” Will hated the quaver in his voice. The trembling in his shoulders.

- Mike looked murderous as his face twisted into a sneer.

- “Oh boo hoo. Did you think I actually gave a shit about you faggot? I was just trying to get my dick wet. A mouth’s a mouth after all. Sally doesn’t let me do anal with her. Thought I might get to finally give it a go if I got you drooling enough for it...”

- Will was feeling so much. Why was Mike being like this?! Lately he had been so... and Will had thought that maybe he was...  

- Then again, why was he surprised?? Wasn’t this consistent with the behaviour he had experienced for the last 4 or so years? Wasn’t this par for the course? 

- “You’re a coward” Will finally managed to get out past his swollen tongue. He was sobbing openly now, he felt like the insides of his lungs were burning. “You’re just a scared little boy who doesn’t like himself and so you take it out on others. Take it out on me! Fuck you Michael Wheeler. I hope you die!”

- He was up and moving before he even recognised his legs were working. If Mike said anything after that, he did not hear it. It was like there was wind whistling in his ears and he could not grab his bike fast enough, could not pedal hard enough. He just needed to escape. Escape the words and the taunts and just... all of it.

- Escape Mike...

- Will spends the rest of the weekend in a strange funk. He replays the events over and over. Mike’s face swims in front of his eyes. Angry, sad, lascivious, lonely, desperate.... Will feels sick to his stomach. He shouldn’t have said what he said to Mike. No matter how horrible he was being, Will should have kept his cool. He knew how unstable the teen was and yet he still pushed him. He just had to push him. 

- Will knew no matter what, he had to talk to Mike on Monday. He would do it in front of all of his jock friends if he had to. He would take the abuse and the bruises. He just had to tell Mike that he didn’t mean it, that he still cared.

- But... he couldn’t find him... he didn’t appear to be in any of his usual spots or in fact anywhere inside Hawkins High that bright sunny Monday. It made Will’s teeth itch and his stomach tumble with anxiety. First period, second period, all the way through to lunch.

- Will gathers a tray of food but doesn’t think he can eat. He’s staring solemnly at his tater tots when he feels his friends slide into the table across from him.

- “Will, did you hear about Mike Wheeler?”

- “What?” Will’s head snaps up, his eyes wide. “What about him?!”

- Lucas looks to Dustin who looks equally as surprised at Will’s reaction.

- “Dude’s in hospital...” Dustin says carefully.

- “WHAT?! HOW? WHAT HAPPENED?!”

- “Dude whats wrong? Why do you care so much?!”

- Will feels like he is going to throw up. “Tell me Dustin!”

- “I don’t know all the details. Apparently he fell and cracked his head open or something.” 

- “Yeah I could hear the ambulance sirens from my place on Sunday morning” Lucas added. “Apparently it was some sort of bathroom freak accident. But like, not in the shower, he had his clothes on and everything. But apparently there was blood everywhere.”

- “Oh God...” Will’s head is buried in his hands. His worst fears coming to fruition right in front of him. “Oh God he did it he tried to do it. And its my fault.” Because he knows. He knows it wasn’t an accident. Mike tried to hurt himself and it was all Will’s fault because he practically told him he wished he were dead.

- And then Will is sure he’s going to throw up and so he flees the cafeteria, much to the astonishment of his friends. He empties the contents of his stomach into the nearest toilet with just a moment to spare. And even after there is nothing left to come up he still retches. Over and over again. It feels like punishment. Except its not enough. He hears the door open behind him but he just doesn’t care. 

- “Will what is going on? What’s gotten into you” Will feels a soothing hand against his hair. 

- “You mean what has gotten out of him?”

- “Shut up Dustin.”

- Will rolls over and looks up blearily at his two friends squished into the stall with him. “Is he okay?” he asks his voice trembling, dreading the answer.

- Dustin looks worried again. “I-I don’t know. Nobody does. But if something really bad had happened we’d hear about it right?”

- “Something really bad HAS happened. And its my fault. I need to go, I need to see him.”

- “Wait Will. Hold up. You’re not making any sense. Since when do you give a shit about Wheeler?! He’s one of the assholes that makes your life hell!” Lovely Lucas. Beautiful, sensible Lucas. He just doesn’t understand. Will needs to leave right now.

- “I-I can’t tell you. Its private. But I need to go see him. I think he tried to do something to himself and I think its because of something I did.”

- “What the fuck? What are you talking about?!”

- But its actually Dustin who shushes Lucas, pushes past him to help Will will up. He gives Will a long probing look and then rubs his shoulders a few times. “You’ll explain to us later right?”

- Will nods enthusiastically. “Cover for me?”

- Dustin smiles. “’Course bud.”

- And Will is flying. Well really, he wished he could fly. He pumps his legs as fast as they can go but it feels like he is riding through quicksand. So slow, what if its too late? What if Mike slips away from him?? He arrives at the hospital and in a daze demands the room number for Mike’s room. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so curt and rude in his life. But there is just no time.

- Until he’s in the doorway and he see’s the figure in the bed and BLESSED HALLELUJAH the figure turns to look at him with wide, surprised eyes. If Will’s cheeks weren’t already flushed from exertion he knows he would be blushing right now. But its almost like he doesn’t care.

- He rushes the bed. Thankfully there are no parents present but he thinks he would have done this even if they were.

- He pulls the boy on the bed into a hug. Clings to him. Lets desperate little cries creep out of his throat as he starts up a mantra of “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.”

- He feels some fingers come up and kind of pat at the back of his head. “Where the fuck did you come from?” They are the same words Mike said two nights ago, but the tone is so different, so gentle.

- “School?” Will answers lamely as he leans back into a standing position.

- Mike chuckles slightly. His eyes wandering to the corner of the room. 

- “I heard about your accident. W-what... what happened?” 

- Mike shrugged, still staring at the edge of the room. “Head trauma. I fell and my head hit the edge of the bathtub. It was stupid.”

- “Bullshit.”

- “What?”

- “I call bullshit. Tell me what really happened Mike.”

- Mike met his gaze and his face kind of looked like he had sucked on a lemon. “I’m telling the truth goddammit! That’s what happened!! Besides what difference does it make?! Does it really matter if I tell you that after you left I got stuck into a bottle of vodka? Or that I got it into my head to take a bunch of my mother’s sleeping pills? Or that I’m now on suicide watch and they won’t let me go home? No! It makes fuck-all difference! Its not like you care you fucking son of a bitch!”

- “Don’t be thick Mike. Of course I care. What do you think I’m doing here?!”

- It’s at this point that Karen Wheeler comes wandering through the room door, styrofoam coffee in hand and Mike just rounds on her. She looks stunned when she see’s Will standing beside her son’s bed. But Mike is having none of it.

- “Get the fuck out Karen! Out! Byers and I are having a conversation!”

- Karen’s mouth falls open at her son’s violent outburst but she retreats without saying a word. 

- Mike watches her go then turns his icy gaze on Will. “Right. Like I was gonna say, I know exactly why you are here. It’s guilt. Guilt for what you... what you said right before you left. Don’t try and dress it up as anything else. You just feel like maybe I did it because of what you said.”

- “Well... did you?” Its probably the least tactful thing to say but Will is feeling a bit too raw from, well, from everything.

- Mike fiddles with the bandage on his head, avoiding eyecontact. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was thinking about killing myself way before your candyass came along.”

- “But why?! How-- how could you?”

- “Because I hate my life alright?! You have no idea what it is like to be me. I’m not a good person. I bring exactly nothing positive to this world. It’s like Nancy says, I’m rotten. Good for nothing. And apparently a faggot on top of it all!”

- Mike’s last sentence hangs in the air, sharp like a knife. Filling the room with a heavy tension. The unspoken truth that felt like it had been standing in the corner of the room of every single interaction that Mike and Will had had in the last month or so. Will had known this very thing for so long but to hear Mike speak it... to see from the look of miserable horror on his face how it was slowly tearing him apart. It broke Will’s heart.

- Slowly, carefully, like dealing with a spooked animal, Will sat in the chair beside the bed. “It’s called being gay Mike. And it’s not a bad thing.”

- “It’s-- it’s disgusting...” but even Mike sounded half-hearted and defeated, the words rasping out as though on autopilot.

- “Well. I’m gay. Do you think I’m disgusting?” Will regretted the question as soon as he said it. He knew the answer. Had had it spat at him on many occasions by this very person. Maybe it would feel different this time though, now that the real truth was out in the open for once. He braced himself for the hurt.

- “No...” 

- Will eyes raised to find dark brown ones fixed upon his face. 

“I-I don’t think you’re disgusting... I never did... I think you’re--”

- But he never got to finish that sentence. From outside the room both boys heard the hooting and hollering that could only be achieved by adolescent boys. Many adolescent boys.

- “WHEELER!

- “WE’RE COMING FOR YOU WHEELER!”

- “WHERE YOU AT YOU PUSSY?!”

- Will recognised the voices of some of the notable figures of the Hawkins High Senior Basketball team. They sounded close.

- He suddenly felt a bruising grip on his forearm where it was lying on the mattress. Stunned, he turned to see Mike staring at him, fear in his eyes.

- “Hide!” he hissed. “They can’t see you here. Quick, the bathroom.”

- Will is about to protest. Is getting ready to argue but Mike grips him harder, almost looking like he is about to cry. “Please Will.”

- Its probably the first time Mike has said his name in... well... years. And so Will quickly darts into the adjoining bathroom, glad for his forethought to grab his backpack too. It’s gotta only be seconds later, just as he is sliding the lock home that he hears the obnoxiously loud entrance of what must be about six people.

- “WHEELER!!”

- “HOW YOU DOING YA FAG!”

- “YOU LOOK LIKE SHIT!”

- “HEY THANKS FOR GIVING US AN EXCUSE TO CUT CLASS!”

- The comments are a-plenty. Will cringes as he takes a seat on the closed toilet seat lid. He almost feels ill when he hears Mike’s voice, so unlike the soft tone of just moments before, greeting his “friends”.

- The back and forth is not particularly interesting. Will quickly grows bored of it. Mike spews his story of slipping over in the bathroom again. One of the anonymous jocks accuses him of trying to suck his own dick and that’s how he fell. Another one asked what pain meds he’s on and whether he could score him some. And yet another truly romantic soul asks if it’s okay for him to claim Sally if Mike dies because apparently that “pussy is tight as shit”.

- Will rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth. He didn’t know how Mike could do this day in and day out. The Mike who guffawed along with those brainless wonders and slapped their hands in highfives and told them to “fuck off from my girl, that’s my piece of ass”... was so, so different from the Mike that sometimes would come out around Will. The Mike that reminded him achingly of the little nerd kid with the gap where his two front teeth should be and the lego Millennium Falcon figure that he had painstakingly put together all by himself. How... how was Mike not exhausted from the whole thing?? Having to act like that every, single day. 

- Will can almost begin to understand how Mike’s path could have led him to where he was now. Will might not have an easy life, but at least he had people who truly loved and understood him. Who did Mike have...?

- Not one of his so-called friends have even asked how he’s feeling, whether he’s doing better. The closest they have gotten is asking him if he will be at practice this week, to which Mike answers “No. Doc says I have to take a break from basketball for awhile...” The responses range from “Fuck that!” to “You’re gonna get as soft as that Byers queer.”

- It makes Will mad. Not the comment about him. Just the fact that he’s the one hiding in he bathroom when its so glaringly evident that these boys don’t give a shit about Mike. He’s the one Mike doesn’t want to be seen with, like he’s some sort of disease. It’s not fucking fair!

- Eventually, Mike’s company leaves. Will hears Karen come back in for a moment and Mike sends her away again. Then he hears him call “You can come out now.”

- Will enters the room. He’s still feeling weird. He looks at the boy in front of him who is staring stubbornly back at him. Daring him to judge. I hate this boy, but I also kind of love him. But maybe that’s not the best thing for me... Will thinks forlornly.

- “You have shit friends.”

- “I know.”

- “They’re not real friends.”

- “I know.”

- You should not hang out with them anymore.”

- “I...”

- “You could come sit with me Lucas and Dusty again?”

- “Will...”

- “Just think about it. And you should... you should start writing again. Maybe keep a journal or something. Something to get all of those thoughts out of your head. I dunno...”

- “My therapist said the same thing.”

- “Hmm.”

- “Yeah...”

- Silence befalls them. Will sways in place, not really knowing what to do but feeling like he should do something.

- “You’re going to be okay you know.” he offers quietly, trying to sound confident in his words.

- “Sure.” Mike doesn’t seem convinced as he stares down at his blanketed lap, suddenly finding his fingers very interesting.

- “You are. Things are shitty right now. But...” Will inhales deeply, thrusting himself out into the open one last time. Giving the stupid boy in front of him a clear target to shoot him down once again. “... you have me alright? I’m here for you... if you want.”

- “Okay.” Mike doesn’t look up. But its something at least.

- “Okay... I’m gonna go...”

- “Okay...”

- Will gives an awkward wave, a hug seems a bit too much right now, and exits the hospital room. The interaction leaves an odd taste in his mouth, but deep down he knows he can only do so much. It’s up to Mike now. No more pushing.

- Mike is out of school for the rest of the week. Not that Will is looking out for him or anything. He doesn’t go back and visit him again, is not even sure if he’s been discharged from hospital or not. These days he’s living on faith a lot. Lucas and Dustin grill his ass and he tries to be honest with them. He doesn’t out Mike, but tells them pretty much everything else. They’re his best friends after all. They sit there with stunned expressions as the whole story unfolds. 

- But that’s nothing compared to the looks on their faces on the following Monday when a nervous voice speaks from behind Will’s slumped form at the lunch table.

- “Can I sit here?”

- Will turns and is met with dark brown, hopeful eyes.

A.N. Ba-BAM! I have no idea what the fuck this was. And I am sorry for the weird formatting. Oh and the angst. Very sorry about that. But it would make my day if you would let me know what you thought! Thank you. Hope you enjoyed. :)

[analogscum]

DON’S PLUM (2001, d. R.D. Robb)

Why is it, my dear Scumbags, that forbidden fruit is the sweetest fruit of all? Why is it that, when we know that we can’t have something, it only makes us want it that much more? This applies to any number of life’s pleasures, but especially to movies. Just think of the number of films that are out there, just waiting to be viewed, but because they’ve either been lost to time, or the powers that be have locked them away somewhere, we may never get to experience. London After Midnight. The Day the Clown Cried. Until recently, anyway, The Other Side of the Wind. Well, tonight, thanks to the magic of illegal YouTube uploads, I’m here to tell you about some of that forbidden fruit. We’re going to talk about a film that its stars do not want you to see (if you live in America or Canada, that is), a film that to this day they continue to try and bury via any legal shenanigans they can. So get ready, because it’s time to take a big juicy bite out of Don’s Plum.

To start, we must talk about the nineties. In the nineties, two big things happened that allowed Don’s Plum to come into existence: the advent of low-budget Indies with cool kids talking in verbose, provocative lingo (see: Pulp Fiction, Clerks, Reality Bites, Kids, etc.), and the teen heartthrob coronation of Leonardo DiCaprio. As an infamous New York magazine profile from 1998 established, young Leo ran with a gang of fellow young thespians who would be immortalized as “the Pussy Posse.” The modus operandi of the Pussy Posse was…well, you can probably guess what it was. These guys were all about scoring chicks and getting loaded and not tipping waitresses, and they lived like goddamn boy kings. Leo was the leader, with his two best friends Tobey Maguire and Kevin Connolly on either side of the pussy throne. Other members of the Pussy Posse included David Blaine, Lucas Haas, and R.D. Robb, who you undoubtedly remember as the kid who played Schwartz in A Christmas Story. Anyway, around 1995, Robb had a boffo idea: if I could get my hands on a camera and some black and white film, I could shoot my friends doing what we do every night, just hanging out acting like douchebags, and somehow this will magically congeal into a smash indie hit. So Leo and Tobey, who were allegedly under the impression that this was just going to be a short film, gave Robb a bunch of money to make this thing, which he did, casting Leo, Tobey, Kevin Connolly, and a bunch of their other friends, shooting on and off for a two year period, with the young actors improvising almost all of their dialogue. And with that, let’s get into the finished film itself, shall we?

Los Angeles. The mid to late nineties. Everything is in black and white and super fuckin’ suave, because, again, it’s Los Angeles in the mid to late nineties. Jeremy Sisto is driving a pickup truck with leopard print seats. He kicks a hippie chick out of the passenger seat, mumbling something about “I need…pleasure. And…I need…to know that with…BRUTE FORCE, I got you out of my life, mmkay?” So, uh, right off the bat, um, that dialogue. Yikes, right? The hippie chick, for her part, gets very angry and yells, “You were supposed to take me to Vegas!” Don’t worry, we never find out why she was going to Vegas in the first place, or who Jeremy Sisto’s character is, because he then promptly drives out of the movie. Bye, Jeremy Sisto! Beep beep!

Cut to Tobey Maguire, who looks like he just finished going through puberty roughly five minutes before Robb called “action!” He’s got a dopey look on his face, and an unfortunate bowl cut/chin scruff combo that makes him look like Shaggy from Scooby Doo. He’s sitting in a moody mid to late nineties café, drinking a comically large cappuccino, and half paying attention to the absolute worst goddamn music I have ever heard in my life. The end credits describe this band as “acid jazz,” but I think a more accurate description would be “music to try and swallow your own tongue to.” It’s like a fiendishly unlistenable combination of free jazz, ska, Tom Waits hobo wailing, and beat poetry, and it should’ve been left back in the nineties where it belongs, alongside Olestra and the Kosovo war. Tobey is trying to pick up some ladies to bring to hang out with his friends later, but oddly enough none of these women want to hang out with an arrogant sad sack who has all the charisma and sex appeal of Uncle Joey from Full House. Meanwhile, there’s like a full-on burlesque dance number happening to accompany this zoot suit cacophony, and the director only occasionally cuts to it for a few seconds at a time. I guess, who needs to see a big splashy musical number when you can watch a comic relief wet blanket who just got his first pubes strike out with every woman he talks to, right? Luckily, the café waitress takes pity on him and agrees to accompany him to meet up with his friends, and then does basically nothing else for the rest of the movie. Occasionally the scene will cut to her to remind us that she’s there, but, like, is she really there, though?

Jenny Lewis from Rilo Kiley is sitting facing a dude who is showing his bare ass to the camera, because that’s how real fuckin’ life just is, maaaaan, not everyone always wears pants, dude! They apparently just had sex, even though she’s fully clothed, and they get into a philosophical argument about nothing and everything, as if they’re in the worst deleted scene from Slacker. Even though they clearly hate each other, the dude, Brad, invites Jenny Lewis to come meet up with his friends, and she makes some overly hostile joke about how he didn’t make her cum earlier, because low-budget indie movie. Next we see Kevin Connolly driving down the street in his Jeep, when he encounters the hippie girl from the beginning of the movie, like a couple of star-crossed blabbedy blahs. Finally, FINALLY, we’re introduced to Leo, when he borrows a comically large mid to late nineties cell phone from this little hood rat kid who insists on telling him some boring story about a brawl at the Viper Room even though Leo is CLEARLY trying to use said comically large mid to late nineties cell phone to call up every fine young female he knows to meet up with him and his friends. This makes the little hood rat kid very very angry, and its supposed to be funny, I guess? Anyway, like they were all fated since time immemorial to do, all of our leads finally converge down at the titular greasy spoon eatery, Don’s Plum.

Now, have you ever been at a restaurant, and you find yourself sitting near a table of people who are so obnoxious, so vapid, so relentlessly annoying and unpleasant, that you can no longer enjoy your food, and just find yourself eavesdropping on every improbably stupid thing that these goddamn condom leaks are rattling on about, slowly being pulled further and further into their vortex of suck? You have? Well, then, congratulations, because that experience is the rest of this fuckin’ movie. Jenny Lewis and Brad are the first to arrive, and what do they do? They start playing a goddamn harmonica. Um, no. Hell no. I’m trying to enjoy my meal in relative peace and quiet, you know what I don’t need? Your shitty ass John Popper impressions, ok? Get that shit all the way outta here. Then, just to really up the insufferability factor, Jenny Lewis starts opining about Bob Dylan, but she only calls him Bob, which, you can take that one away from here right away, and then launches into the following diatribe...

“You know what I’m so sick of though? All that fucking commercial grunge crap. It all sounds alike. It’s like the record companies that are promoting sterile music. I mean, I love Nirvana, don’t get me wrong, but they weren’t the Beatles.”

WOOF. Mercifully, Brad interrupts her to tell her that he loves her, even though it’s their like, first or second date. She’s reasonably creeped out by this, and just by how earnest and dark and brooding Brad is in general, until thankfully Tobey and the waitress show up, soon followed by Kevin and the hippie hitchhiker. Leo gets his own grand entrance, checking himself out in the reflection of an aquarium while some mid to late nineties boom bap hip hop blares on the soundtrack, natch. For the next hour or so, the group basically just chain smoke countless cigarettes (remember when restaurants had smoking sections?), harasses their waitress, Flo (hey, it’s a mid to late nineties indie movie, were they supposed to NOT name the waitress Flo?) and talk shit endlessly. They also say the word “bro” a lot. Like, a lot a lot. Like, way too much. The world’s most date rapey frat dude would tell them to relax with how much they say the word “bro.”

Suddenly, in between all of the cigarettes and “bros,” a morbidly obese lady walks past the table, and Leo mocks her for daring to be morbidly obese. The hippie hitchhiker takes umbrage with this, and Leo, charming guy that he is, calls her a “squatty piece of hippie shit cunt.” This escalates to the point where the hippie hitchhiker storms off, throwing her Birkenstocks at Leo, and then smashes Kevin’s windshield with a bat that she found…somewhere? Anyway, she’s out of the movie now, and replacing her is Jenny Lewis’s friend Constance, who they just happen to run into. So more bullshitting and chain smoking unfolds. Female masturbation is discussed, because mid to late nineties indie movie. They play Never Have I Ever, and Kevin doesn’t understand the rules, which is kinda endearing. They almost get into a fight with some creep in a mechanics outfit and Buddy Holly glasses. A horrible ska cover of the “Menomena” song from The Muppet Show pops up for a minute of your life that you’ll never get back. Leo sends the group into more turmoil when he outs Brad as bisexual and gives Tobey shit for being vegan. He also gropes Jenny Lewis’s breasts countless times, but no one seems to mind. They all fight about this for awhile, but eventually apologies are offered and they’re bros once again. However, upon learning that Brad is into both girls and guys, Jenny Lewis begins freaking out about AIDS, because ugggh. Then she and Constance start making out for absolutely no reason other than mid to late nineties indie movie. At one point, the film fades out for no reason, and then fades up again on the exact same scene just in time to hear one of the ladies ask the table, “do you guys bathe every day and, like, wash yourself with soap?” Meanwhile, the film will occasionally cut to short vignettes of the characters each saying non-sequiturs into the restroom mirror. Why? Again, because mid to late nineties indie movie. DUH.

The absolute weirdest scene occurs when Kevin Connolly notices a lady producer whom he auditioned for the previous week. He calls her “Spielberg with a pussy,” because of course he does, what else would he call her? The rest of the table convinces him to go talk to her. To both our surprise and his, when he tentatively approaches her at the bar, she’s like, Oh my god, Kevin Connolly! It’s so good to see you! I’m sorry you didn’t get that part you auditioned for, but get this, I was just watching your tape again the other day, and I want to cast you in the lead in this other movie that I’m doing! Not only that, I have to admit, I find you and your Cub Scout haircut and thrift store bowling shirt to be super fucking sexy, and later on tonight I wanna fuck your brains out so hard, so take my number and call me, hot stuff.

WHAT?!?! Like, is this supposed to be a fantasy sequence? Is it? If it is, you have to tell me, movie! Shellshocked and erect, Kevin returns to the table and recounts the whole thing, including the line “bro, it was crazy, bro! She was on my dick so hard!” Leo, meanwhile, is wearing some fake redneck dentures, talking in an exaggerated Southern accent, and eating his own boogers. This is all real, you guys, I promise.

Anyway, some more shit happens, and everyone is yapping about some stupid, possibly offensive nonsense when suddenly a lady at the next table over slaps the guy that she’s with. Hard. Slaps him really hard. Our heroes get quiet for less than a second, before remarking on the slap that just took place. Holy shit bro, that bitch slapped that guy so hard bro, bro bro bro bro, etc. When things get back to normal, Leo is suddenly quiet and sullen. Kevin notices, and tries to coax it out of him the best way he knows how, which is by asking, “you fuckin’ thinkin’ about something, bro?” Leo starts giving all of these cagey, mysterious non-answers, and before long everyone at the table wants to know if he’s fuckin’ thinkin’ about something, bro. Leo takes a deep drag off of his cigarette, and tells everyone, “my dad committed suicide bro.”

WHAAAT?!?! I’ve gotta say, I honestly did not see this coming. In a mood, Leo storms off for the back bar. Jenny Lewis follows him, and tries to make him feel better by relating her OWN familial sob story: “My dad is gone. And my mom is a junkie. She sells her ass on the corner.”

WHAAAAAAT?!?! All of these sudden dollops of soap opera drama, man! Good gravy. For whatever reason, this turns Leo on, and he tries to bang her. She rebuffs his advances, and they get into an overwrought screaming match that plays out like a Level One improv exercise at the world’s shittiest acting school. Meanwhile, back at the table, Tobey gets mad at Kevin for pushing Leo to reveal the truth about his dead dad, and this escalates into a full on fist fight! BRO!

Now, holy shit, you guys, the last five minutes of this movie. Jenny Lewis runs into the bathroom, and begins lamenting into the mirror about how she let a “perfectly good fuck” get away. As she’s saying all this, she pulls some tinfoil, a straw and a lighter out of her purse and just straight up starts FREEBASING CRACK COCAINE.

WHAAAAAAAAAT?!?! Kinda makes all that AIDS talk seem kinda hollow, huh? Then, oh my god, she starts crying and launches into this fucking after school special monologue, screaming into the mirror about how “I was the one that came on to Uncle Jerry! I was the one that was curious!”

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!?! Excuse me, waitress, but it seems you got drug abuse and child molestation in my mid to late nineties indie movie! What is ANY OF THAT doing in here?! And in the last five goddamn minutes of the movie, no less! So now Tobey and Kevin’s bro fight has spilled out onto the street, so Leo goes and breaks it up, he and Kevin do a very intricate secret bro handshake, everyone has a good laugh, Brad lights Kevin’s bowling shirt on fire, everyone goes prancing down the street, and the movie ends.

Now, imagine that you’re Leonardo DiCaprio and Tobey Maguire. It’s late 1997, or possibly early 1998. One of you is now the biggest movie star on the planet, thanks to a movie about a big-ass boat. You’ve just seen this Don’s Plum movie that your little buddy R.D. Robb made. First of all, it’s a full-length fucking movie, not a short like you both thought it would be. Second of all, both of you are in there saying terrible things about women, doing terrible things to women, and oh shit, the majority of your fans…wait for it…are women! Bro! But worst of all, our little buddy R.D. Robb, who we thought was our friend, our fellow Pussy Posse member, our BRO, is shopping this fucking movie around to distributors? This fucking movie that could possibly end our careers if anyone ever sees it? Tell me, if you were Leonardo DiCaprio and Tobey Maguire in late 1997 or early 1998, would you do everything in your power to make sure that Don’s Plum never saw the light of day?

Well, according to a lawsuit filed in 1998 by one of the film’s producers, David Stutman, that’s exactly what Leo and Tobey did. Interestingly enough, according to court documents, apparently it was Tobey who was more concerned with how his performance in the film would negatively affect his nascent stardom, and therefore enlisted his much more famous best friend to help him carry out “a fraudulent and coercive campaign to prevent the release of the film.” I mean, Leo comes off as WAY more of an asshole than Tobey, who mainly just mopes around and eventually bro fights with Kevin Connolly, but in any case, both parties eventually reached a settlement in which Stutman agreed that Don’s Plum would not be released in the U.S. or Canada. It premiered at the Berlin Film Festival on February 10, 2001, and quickly faded into Hollywood lore.

Every few years, talk of this wild, black and white, mostly improvised movie with some big celebrities before they got famous will pop up again. Most recently, back in early 2016, another of the film’s producers, Dale Wheatley, uploaded the film to Vimeo and posted it to his website, freedonsplum.com, where anyone could watch it for free. Within days, Leo and Tobey’s respective legal teams had the video removed. You would think that after more than twenty years, with Leo now a respected Oscar winner, and Tobey having brought Spider-Man to life on the big screen, they’d be willing to let bygones be bygones. But it seems that they’re still legitimately concerned that they would stand to lose their vaunted place amongst the Hollywood elite if North American audiences ever got to see Don’s Plum. They still fear it. They still think it’s dangerous. In reality, it’s just embarrassing, which isn’t the same thing.

Truth is, there are a million movies out there just like Don’s Plum. There are a million other overly earnest, needlessly vulgar, navel-gazing indie movies made by overly earnest, needlessly vulgar, navel-gazing young people about the lives of overly earnest, needlessly vulgar, navel-gazing young people out there. I mean, I went to film school, fer chrissakes, I can say with some level of authority that Don’s Plum is the sort of project that my classmates and I poured our hearts and souls Into, only to be embarrassed by its messy, guileless sincerity later. The only thing that distinguishes Don’s Plum from the horde of other cringeworthy embryonic efforts like it is, as I said before, its status as cinematic forbidden fruit. Will its two stars ever allow the audience that it was made for to have a taste? Somehow I doubt it, bro.

[cbk1000]

Jenn Recommends: Fantasy

All right, kids; it’s that time again. Time for me to babble on for an obnoxiously long time about books I have read and adored, and time for you to just shut the fuck up and take all my advice, because I have great taste.

Since this recommendation list concerns fantasy, all of the following books are actually part of a series, because it is illegal for fantasy authors to write standalone novels: they will be publicly executed for devoting anything less than 3,000 pages to Timmy’s sword and stones. You know this is true because you just read it on the internet.

If You Like: Political intrigue, really hot people, + everyone and their brother being canonically gay as fuck.

Read: The Kushiel’s Legacy series by Jacqueline Carey.

This series starts with Kushiel’s Dart, and there are actually two trilogies worth reading in this world: Phedre’s (the first trilogy) and Imriel’s (the second, which I may like even better). We do not talk about the third trilogy. In this write-up, I’m just going to talk about the first trilogy, but if you enjoy it, I definitely encourage you to read the next three books.

Phèdre nó Delaunay is a courtesan who was born with a scarlet mote in her left eye--a mark of the god to let others know that she’s into really kinky shit. You cannot spank this bitch hard enough. As a child she is sold into indentured servitude, and bought by a man who recognizes the mote in her eye for what it is and what it signifies--namely, that people who sexually enjoy having the ever-loving fuck beat out of them are pretty much up for anything, which means she will make a great spy.

So that is what she is trained in--not just the arts of the bedroom, but the arts of overhearing everything meant for non-State-approved ears. Of course because this is a novel and something has to happen in it, she stumbles upon a plot against the throne that gets a lot of people stabbed multiple times and throws her and her hapless goddammit-this-is-my-first-real-assignment bodyguard into a Perilous Journey that spans Many Lands.

Two things I really love about this series: the world building and the casual approach to homosexuality.

The various different countries are obviously based heavily upon European history and lore, but she’s done enough research to really flesh them out. We don’t just have a few generic descriptions here and there of vaguely European geography, but actual religions and languages and histories which are more than just given a hasty, passing mention to conjure the illusion that the world is more tangible than it actually is: you can taste and touch and hear Terre d’Ange.

As for the casual homosexuality: the main pairing is hetero, but Phedre takes several female lovers, because in Terre d’Ange, the one rule by which everyone must abide is ‘Love as thou wilt’. No one is really straight or gay; sexuality isn’t really a thing, labels aren’t a thing; people bone who they bone and nobody bats an eye. Kind of like Ancient Greece, till it came time for you to stop porking Archimedes during oily wrestling sessions and churn out a couple of brats. Sex work in this world is also considered in the service of the goddess, and those engaged in it are bestowing a blessing on their customers; it is an honorable and profitable line of work.

I honestly could not put these books down. I have two copies of the third book in this trilogy because I ordered it online while halfway through the second, then promptly panicked when I realized it wouldn’t arrive in time for me to immediately begin the third as soon as I finished the second novel. I actually drove an hour and a half to the nearest Barnes and Noble just so I didn’t have to wait two agonizing days for the next book to arrive. The writing can be a little heavy-handed (think purple euphemisms for a man’s steely pleasure wand, etc.), but overall it’s gripping and lush and I could barely stop reading long enough to take bathroom breaks.

If You Like: Bleak stories where probably nobody is ever going to get anything more than a brief glimpse of happiness before it’s cruelly torn away from them and legitimately creepy monsters.

Read: The Banned and the Banished series by James Clemens.

This series on the surface is your fairly generic Evil Dark Lord vs. Savior Newly Awakened To Their Powers. Elena is a thirteen-year-old girl who has just been visited for the very first time by the dreaded Aunt Flo. With puberty comes the blossoming of new powers: a red hand that shoots a lot of fire out of it, a power I would’t mind having while trying to navigate a bunch of idiot-inflicted traffic. Over the course of the five books in the series, she picks up her Adventure Party and they sally forth to do battle with the Dark Lord’s minions (of which there are a metric fuck ton, in scientific terms). Some parts begin to feel a little monster-of-the-week, as the protagonists barely have time to take a breath in between waves of tentacly evil.

So why I am I recommending this series? Because Clemens is not content with just scattering some generic tropes around the page and calling it good: he wants you to go, “What the FUCK, dude??”. A lot. This is probably the only book in which you will encounter a woman letting a bunch of spiders crawl into her vagina. Or later giving birth to those spiders, which have, upon the touch of the Dark Lord, transformed into a monster that smells like dead baby and eats people’s faces. I recently came across this series in Russian and have been rereading it as a 31-year-old adult, and there are scenes which even now thoroughly traumatize me; it really explains why I am the way I am, since I first read the beginning books when I was only 11-12.

This series is surprisingly hard to put down; I suppose it’s because you are compelled (or at least I am) to find out what the hell kind of nasty thing is next going to emerge from the forest and inspire you to check under your bed at night even though you’re a goddamn adult. This series is not for the faint of heart, obviously. But if you like dark fantasy, and you’re into the idea of reading something that on the surface seems a pretty standard fantasy tale before it suddenly starts hurling vagina spiders all up your business, check it out. Also, if you’ve read any of my work and you’d like to know just what the fuck is wrong with me, I believe this series can throw a little light on that.

If You Like: A protagonist who won’t take your shit but also is allowed to be emotionally vulnerable, Chinese history, detailed military campaigns.

Read: The Poppy War by R.F. Kuang.

Rin, a war orphan raised by shitty foster parents in a backwoods village, is accepted into a prestigious military academy where pretty much everyone, teachers included, hates her because she’s a peasant and this school is for the sons of rich people, goddammit. Rin is talented in the nearly lost art of shamanism because she’s the main character of a fantasy novel, and it is only her newly-found powers that have a chance of halting the advance of the Federation as they march upon the Nikara Empire, intent on conquering (and graphically torture murdering) everything in its path. On the flip side: her powers have also been known to turn literally all their wielders into raging loonies who have to be imprisoned for the good of everyone.

My ignorance of Chinese history is absolute, so I’ve no idea where the author (herself Chinese, and an historian, I believe) is pulling from in order to build the foundations of her world, but it’s obvious she has done a lot of research and painstakingly agonized over every little detail. It’s nice to finally step away from the usual Euro-centric world of much Western fantasy, and into one so fully fleshed-out.

This story actually reminds me in some ways of Mulan: the unlikely protagonist bests nearly everyone in all of her training--but only because she works three times harder than anyone else, and no one particularly admires her for it, saving her from Mary Suedom. She’s intelligent and determined, but nothing comes easily (especially when one of your masters is more than a little unhinged). She has exactly one friend, and spends most of her time trying to read her way to a better martial artist. 

This is not, however, a school story; and though the characters are 16-17 when they first enter the academy, it is not a YA story either. It is a story about war, and the author has no interests in presenting war as anything other than it is: revolting, traumatizing, horrific. There are some very graphic depictions of violence, so if you do not have the stomach for that, this is not the book for you.  Neither massacres nor first kills are glossed over; everything is presented exactly as it looks, smells, feels. 

Because life is never one long angst-ridden slog, however, and there was always something, before war, there are moments of legit humor; I actually laughed out loud at several lines. And that leads me to something else the author does very well: dialogue.  Much dialogue is an excuse for the author to sound worldly, wise--poetic. It also often hardly sounds like human speech. Real humans, even articulate, intelligent humans, do not shit a fucking Keats verse every time they open their mouths. In The Poppy War, people, wonder of wonders, actually sound like people; perhaps even more notable: teenagers sound like teenagers.

Stylistically, this book is utilitarian; I won’t be highlighting any phrases because they’ve left me awestruck. But it is not lightweight fantasy; the main characters wield terrifying powers with immense consequences. They are mangled, tortured, killed; some of them are drug addicts because only in opium can they find a momentary release from what they have survived. It’s a hold-onto-your-balls-kids kind of story. This is the first novel in a purported trilogy, and I will definitely be keeping an eye out for the rest of the series.

[bolachasgratis]

Vodafone Paredes de Coura 2019: our top picks

Vodafone Paredes de Coura 2018. Photo by Hugo Lima.

Another summer, another missed opportunity to have a vacation somewhere because there’s nowhere else we’d rather be other than at our little paradise of Paredes de Coura, in northwestern Portugal. The festival runs from the 14th to the 17th of August, but, like always, the fun begins way earlier than that, with four fun-packed, free entrance days with concerts and DJ sets right in the center of the small Minho village. 

While you are here, grab our printable festival schedule: PDF or XLS format. You might have to download the Gotham font to make the editable Excel file work properly. And scroll down to the end of this post for our special playlist, featuring a selection of 30 songs from artists playing in this year’s edition of the festival.

Our highlight from the O Festival Sobe à Vila segment, running from the 10th to the 13th, has to be the mythical Parkinsons (Tuesday, 13, 23:30). The Portuguese punk rockers from Coimbra who made a name for themselves in London will set the village on fire (figuratively; this country has had enough forest fires, no thanks).

During the days of the festival, next to the camping area and the small river that runs through it, the Jazz na Relva stage will be pretty active before festivities start in the main stage, with free yoga lessons, book readings, debates and a few (mostly) acoustic shows. Our pick for this year is the newcomer Mathilda, moniker of singer-songwriter Mafalda Costa (Thursday, 15, 15:00). She will be presenting some of the delicate folk songs from her forthcoming debut album, Changing Colours, out September 10th, along with label mate Diogo Alves Pinto (Gobi Bear). Too bad we won’t be there because the people demand eurodance and so we have to work, but you should.

The main programme starts Wednesday. Our highlight for the first night is, of course, our beloved Julia Jacklin (Vodafone stage, 19:40), who performs for the first time for her Portuguese fans (and we’re delighted to say there are quite a few of us). The Australian indie-rock-ish songwriter will bring her band over to present her sophomore album, Crushing, along with selections off her gorgeous debut Don’t Let the Kids Win. Granted, most people will be there for the National (Vodafone, 00:45) - returning to the festival fourteen years after their first time - but we know people are going to react to Julia Jackson the same way they did last year with Big Thief while waiting for Arcade Fire. Later that night, the Congolese collective KOKOKO! (Vodafone.fm stage, 02:25) will shake things up with their instruments made out of rewired and up-cycled materials found in the streets of Kinshasa. 

On Thursday, the first full day of the festival, a couple of old favourites take the stage again: Car Seat Headrest (Vodafone, 21:10) return to where they last played two years ago, and New Order (Vodafone, 22:50) play their only second show in the country after debuting fourteen years ago at the Super Bock Super Rock festival. Debuting this year for Portuguese audiences are Khruangbin (Vodafone, 18:15), Alvvays (Vodafone, 19:50), Stella Donnelly (Vodafone.fm, 19:05) and Boy Pablo (Vodafone.fm, 20:30). The first have just released an album consisting of reworked dub versions of their second album Con Todo el Mundo and finally reach the country after successful tours in Europe and elsewhere. We first saw them opening for Father John Misty in his 2016 European tour and Dutch audiences loved them so much they played over ten shows in the country over the past three years. It might be the beginning of a similar love affair between the Paredes de Coura festival goers and the Texan trio who merges Thai funk, surf rock, classic soul and psychedelia. Alvvays are one of the most sought after indie pop bands of the past few years, especially after releasing their earworm-packed second album Antisocialites. Covering up for Julien Baker’s last minute absence is the Australian Stella Donnelly, fresh off the release of her debut record Beware of the Dogs. Sorry, Julien, but we think the lineup just got stronger. Last but not least, the announcement of Boy Pablo was highly celebrated by fans of the festival. The Norwegian jangle-ish pop band fronted by a boy named Pablo takes the smaller stage at dinner time, in a day that is much more than just a big warm up to the New Order gig.

Friday will probably the best festival day in recent history. Father John Misty (Vodafone, 00:45) returns to the festival as a headliner four years after a fantastic show, and he’s not alone. His producer and collaborator Jonathan Wilson, (Vodafone, 19:25) pivotal musician in the LA recording scene, plays his first show in the country, some ten years after we’ve turned fanboys when discovering Frankie Ray in some obscure guitar forum (can someone reissue this, please?). Returning after a lukewarm show at the Alive festival back in 2008 are Spiritualized (Vodafone, 22:50). The distorted guitars of the English giants are much more suited for the natural amphitheatre of Paredes de Coura, and judging from a recent show, we’re in for a treat. Just don’t forget the light show. EDIT: How the fuck did we forget they played NOS Primavera Sound twice while writing this article? At the Vodafone.FM stage, and after a supposedly memorable show last year in Guimarães, Black Midi (20:30) present our top guitar album of the year, Schlagenheim. The young, enigmatic London band are our current bet for “band that will eventually replace Shellac of North America in our hearts if they ever stop playing” and we’re too goddamn excited to see them present their debut.

Saturday is the more relaxed and least guitar-heavy day of the festival. Our top Portuguese pick for this year’s festival is Sensible Soccers (Vodafone.fm, 20:40). It’s been a privilege to follow their career, from their humble beginnings as a home recording, netlabel act eight years ago, to their status as one of the most interesting bands coming out of Portugal at the dawn of the third decade of the 21st century. After a few lineup changes, guitars are now a thing in the past, and the bass/synths/percussion trio is now aiming for space. A few months ago, the prospect of seeing Mitski (Vodafone, 19:35) live wasn’t as urgent as it seems to be now. In the eve of a (hopefully not long) hiatus, this is the last chance in a while to see the songs of Be the Cowboy, Bury Me at Makeout Creek and Puberty 2 live on stage. In a day where Suede, Freddie Gibbs & Madlib and Patti Smith might draw the biggest crowds (and need no introduction), our top pick for the day is Kamaal Williams (Vodafone.fm, 22:20) representing the burgeoning London forward-thinking jazz scene. The Black Focus Records label owner is back after only a few months, having performed in Cascais last April, and his blend of experimental electronica and cosmic contemporary jazz is the perfect counterpoint in a festival still largely dominated by - more often than not great, mind you - indie rock music. And we’re already counting the hours.

[battleaxe-proficiency]

Concept: Mickey and Emil have been friends basically since they both began skating. They’re really close, and when I say close I mean HELLA. Sleepovers, friendship bracelet exchange when they were 12 (Emil still wears his outside of skating, and while Mickey will never admit it he still keeps his in his wallet of all places), the whole deal. Sara is also part of their friend group, but she’s definitely not as close to Emil as Mickey is.

And then puberty hits and Mickey suddenly becomes very aware of Emil and his closeness to Sara. In reality, nothing’s really changed, but he’s begun to get a weird tight feeling in his chest whenever he sees Emil smiling and laughing with Sara. He begins to be a lot more protective over Sara because that’s what it’s gotta be, right? Sara is getting prettier each year, and as her big brother he has a responsibility to keep men from taking advantage of her. Even if it’s Emil, who he’s known for years. Anyways, there’s nothing else this feeling can be, right? Right. Nothing more than protectiveness.

Except it’s not just protectiveness, and that realisation hits Mickey like a hammer to the face when he sees a female skater from Sara’s group flirting with Emil. Sara herself isn’t there--she’s gone off with Mila Babachieva, the tomboyish Russian skater who trains under Yakov--so he can’t ask her if she knows the skater. Later on, he realises it doesn’t really matter; knowing who she was wouldn’t have lessened the tight, hot feeling in his chest he’s associated with protectiveness that he gets when the skater laughs and puts a hand on Emil’s arm.

And, of course, once he realises it there’s no going back.

For a while he tries to reason it out. Well, of course he’s protective over his best friend; it’s his best friend. It’s only natural that he wants to make sure that his friend finds happiness with the very best person he can have.

But then there’s the warm feeling he gets when he hears or sees Emil nearby, and the way his heart spasms or whatever it is whenever Emil laughs, and the fact that he just generally feels happier when Emil is talking to him or completely disregarding his personal space and hugging him or just sprawled on his lap or cuddled up against him with a blanket while they watch old sci-fi movies or when he puts his head on Mickey’s shoulder and nuzzles into his neck and when he gives a contented hum and oh god he’s in love with his best friend.

He locks himself in his room for a few days after his big revelation, leaving only for meals and the bathroom. After the third day, Sara finally wrestles a confession out of him through interrogation, intimidation, and broken-down doors. Mickey expects some kind of reaction from his confession--shock or something--but his sister just looks exasperated and slightly frustrated and done.

“Mickey, you idiot,” Sara groans, “Emil’s been in love with you for years.”

If the realisation that he was in love with Emil was like a hammer to the face, the idea that Emil was in love with him is a 10-ton boulder.

Sara sits him down and tells him all about how little Emil had first confessed to her that he had a major crush on her big brother, and how he turned to her for advice on how to woo Mickey because you’re just so clueless sometimes and it makes things really difficult, you know. She talks about the times that he went to her, frustrated and nearly in tears because he couldn’t understand what he was doing wrong, and the times that he pulled her aside merely to gush about how utterly in love he was and ‘did you see what Mickey just did that’s so adorable/awesome I can’t handle this’. She describes the times when Mickey was gone so she and Emil huddled around his golden labrador and pet her while Emil ranted about him and Sara talked about Mil--her own crush. She pauses, coughs, and tells him that just a few days ago, Emil was talking about how he felt about Mickey, and that his love is still going strong.

“So, what are you going to do about it?”

The answer, of course, is nothing.

Which is what he does for months.

It’s not like he doesn’t want to try and take the next step, it’s just...He doesn’t know how to. After all, it’s not something he can just bring up in casual conversation. Besides, he doesn’t know how to...

He figures he’ll just wait until the perfect time.

It’s a strategy that works well until another skater decides to flirt with Emil after a competition. He’s expecting it, of course, but it’s the first time that it’s happened since his revelation.

Something in him snaps, and he has to walk away before he does something stupid, like punch the skater. He makes it outside of the building when someone grabs his shoulder. It’s Emil, breathing slightly hard. “Hey, Mickey, you all right?” He asks, looking concerned.

It makes his heart skip a beat. He’s a foot or two away and yet still too close and Mickey looks away, trying to gain the illusion of more space between them. “I’m fine.”

He makes the mistake of looking back at Emil. Their eyes meet, and Mickey feels like he’s drowning.

“Are you sure?” Emil asks again softly. His eyes are oceans, deep and blue and oh so beautiful.

Mickey is lost.

The words slowly come spilling out of him: How he’s finally realised his feelings for Emil, how he’s been so goddamn stupid to have not seen it sooner, how he’s known that Emil feels the same way for months but he couldn’t just bring it up because who does something like that and it just didn’t feel like the right time but even so he just can’t stand seeing someone flirting with Emil.

He’s red-faced by the time he finishes, both from lack of air and embarrassment, and he watches as emotions flash across Emil’s face: first confusion, then shock, embarrassment, and something Mickey can’t identify before settling on what seems to be a mixture of exasperation and amusement, tinged with something warm that lights up his eyes.

Emil gives a small chuckle. “So that’s what this was all about.” He steps a bit closer to Mickey, and the heat in Mickey’s cheeks somehow increases even more. “Can I hug you?”

It’s not an unusual request--Mickey’s always been uncomfortable with physical contact, and Emil’s always asked permission before doing so--and yet somehow it feels more intimate than in previous times. He silently nods, and Emil takes another step forwards and envelops him in a hug that’s nothing like his usual enthusiastic bone-crushing embraces. This one is gentle and caring and makes something tight in Mickey’s chest unwind.

When Emil laughs, the vibrations travel throughout Mickey’s body. It’s a nice feeling. “You dork. You kept me waiting for months because it wasn’t the right time?”

“I wanted it to be romantic!” Mickey protests. “Besides, it’s not something you just say; it has to be the perfect timing and the perfect setting and-” He’s cut off by another laugh. “Stop laughing at me!”

“I’m sorry, I just--God.” Emil pulls back. “Is it okay if I kiss you right now?”

He’s pretty sure that his heart has stopped. “I-what?”

“Michele, am I allowed to kiss you?”

It takes a second for him to process it, but Mickey finally gives him a shaky nod. Emil moves one hand up to cup the side of his face and moves in and-

Mickey puts out a hand at the last second to stop him as an embarrassing thought occurs to him.

“Wait, I, uh...I don’t know how to...”

Emil laughs and gently removes his hand as he moves in again. “That’s okay, neither do I. I suppose we’ll just have to figure it out, won’t we?”

Considering that neither of them know what they’re doing, their first kiss isn’t too bad.

[presidentsclubkrp]

Our crime tale begins with LEE HYUNSOO, a THIRTY-ONE year old founder of THE PRESIDENT’S CLUB. HE works as their RINGMASTER,  but he’s better known as the infamous MAMA GOOSE. JOIN THE HEIST?

PART ONE; the basics

Name: Lee Hyunsoo

Alias: n/a

Code name: Mama Goose

Faceclaim: Park Seojoon

Gender/Pronouns: Cis male, he/his

Date of Birth: 3/3/1989

Age: 31

Hometown: Miami, Florida

Occupation: Tailor

Canon: The Ring Master

PART TWO; about

Biography ( tw: n/a )

I.

Quite the handful, aren’t you?

Boy with mischief forever on his mind, cogs running with possibilities so quick anyone would get whiplash if they’d cut through the fleshy pink of your brain to see. Flight isn’t in the picture just yet, so you run. Over track hurdles, past the neon splattered walls and out of your mother’s strangling tight grasp, razor in her manicured grip with the intent to shave your head bald for the summer. Humidity sticks to you like a second skin, and the air smells like sea salt and charred barbeque. Green flits by in bursts—grass sharp, papaya ripe, and lime bitter. Not home to Ma or Dad, with dreams misplaced for the sake of being content, both working the sales floor somewhere on NW 5th Avenue, but hell, you wouldn’t think it to be any other place. Miami’s about as much as a clusterfuck in the ‘90s and will only get worse with the years to come. You simply grow in tandem with it.

II.

Puberty hits, and you’re still running, but you pick up other habits that are just as hard to shake. You learn to look around and not just what’s in front of you, and maybe that’s the start of it all. Behind you: Wynwood, built on the backs of garment workers and barely slipping through the cracks. Ahead, in some far distance, glass-and-steel highrises peak out from the heart of Brickell, white-hot and diamond-glowy under the sun. Any hotter, you think, and it might burst into flames.

School doesn’t do a lot to teach you, but goddamn is there a lot to learn from the people. What’s said, left between the lines, can be picked up and put down at your discretion. Mingling is second nature. Confidence and conversation begin to fit you like a hand to a sleek, satin glove. Could be the growth spurt talking, or the built resolve from the new part-time job you’re working alongside with your folks, starting from the back of storage room to speaking about and to textures for fresh faces by senior year.

The trick of the trade is to what he calls the 3™, or the Three-Tier Model of Total Bullshit. In all matters of BS: know it, breathe it, feed it but don’t force it. Just like with any other vice, moderation is key.

Ambition doesn’t rear its head yet, but you know, you’re only eighteen. Mom and Pops can’t help but worry anyway—lackluster grades, dead-center of the bottom 50% percentile for the SATs, and your seemingly permanent commitment to stagnancy.

Might as well find opportunity elsewhere, then. By some stroke of sheer dumb luck, it happens right around when you (barely) manage to graduate:

Uncle Hojun’s opened a new business right off of Garosugil, and he needs a steady pair of hands.

III.

You play your cards right here. A relative you haven’t seen in over ten years, so it’s practically a matter of making the right first impression all over again. You talk your way through the shears, the difference between rayon and pure silk, which earns you many a pointed look, then display a keen aptitude for melting stone-cold cynicism from even the toughest of skeptics, which earns his genuine trust in your abilities.

Custom tailoring is step above in both skill and refinement, requires an exaction in execution. He doesn’t take you with him from the start, but that comes in time. When it does, something shifts, minuscule in its onset, future impact tantamount to something along the lines of epochal.

You’re introduced as his nephew, but unofficially you’re nothing more but a second shadow as you tail him through iron gate after gate, house after house, each and every single one draped in a kind of opulence that's unthinkable in the way it’d been once distant. Point blank: absolutely nothing could possibly prepare anyone for the kind of overwrought extravagance that sits at home with the upper echelon. In the master bedroom, Uncle solemnly unfurls his measuring tape as you stare down a pair of cashmere curtains that’d cost an arm and a leg. In the living room, Rich Patron and Uncle discuss alteration costs as you eye a Meissen vase probably worth more than either of their lives. The disconnect is startling, less a feeling than it is the reality: that their very presence is intrusive, mere voyeurs to the nausea-inducing excess.

“Fit for a king,” Hojun muses absently when they climb into their modest mid-size. You simply keep your gaze trained to the prospects long after it obscures from the rearview.

IV.

2008: Wall Street’s meltdown hits them here, too—hard. Butterfly effect and all, what with the way the global economy keeps common folk afloat then tanks them straight into the shitter. In some hole-in-the-wall place in Itaewon, you knock back soju bombs with some knucklehead from Texas as if the both of you have something to prove. With the way that night turns out, maybe that was the plan all along.

Petty theft isn’t something you’ve been above in the past, but that past you had also been twelve and caught redhanded. This is something a little more intricate. Convoluted. Maybe straight-up bonkers. But you do it, and it works like a fucking charm. Catharsis should be unfounded in a moment like this, but it overtakes you as you stare at the stolen Omega staring back up at you for the millionth time, the delicate clockface catching the early light of a new dawn.

V.

“You’re a natural." "Only learned from the best.”

Took three more years too at that. Even in his wispier years, Hojun isn’t any less relentless with his scrutiny, but you don’t mind. Your patience has always been steadfast, ever-flowing as a river, and the effort has paid off. The two of you have switched places, now. You on the initiative, the steady hands that take measures from end to end and he the ever-watchful, second shadow that hovers from the beginning before receding slow. The number of houses and arrogant, holier-than-thou elbows he smooths only grow in magnitude.

Timing becomes crucial at this point in your life—the handful of seconds where a head turns the other way, and it’s slip, then snatch, then pawn it off at your own convenience.

Took three years before you finally decide to kick it up a notch.

When you’re ready, you make the call. “Dude,” There’s a grin you can barely contain, waiting for that familiar lazy, catlike drawl with boyish anticipation.

“I think I’m onto something.”

VI.

Experience comes with age, and with age comes less of a learning curve and more concrete muscle memory. You realize with mild amusement that the number three has some strange significance in your pseudo-developmental milestones—your birthday, 3™,  three years of professional tailorhood, the three faces you start out with for what would become The Club. Upgrades, revisions, and the natural bend-and-break flexibility of rules are inevitable, but you roll with the punches as you mold each plan to fit the key players, from the moment of induction to their first set of missions.

The enterprise grows. So do the members, each addition just another gear to better run the not-so-little scam machine. The stakes. The ramifications if any, any of them are senseless enough to get caught.

But hey. It’s not like you’ve ever played it safe, anyway.

VII.

Things you learn by the time you hit thirty:

Buying a foreclosed villa works out better than you think when you know what you’re doing.

Mom and Dad would really, really like to retire in the Key West.

The chances of this ever getting old? Second to fucking-none, baby.

[kor-knight]

You belong with me

YoonKook AU based off the Taylor Swift song “You belong with me” cause I’m trash and shouldn’t be allowed to write stories lmfao.

Word Count: 7.4k

Yoongi can hear the yelling from his room. Its pretty hard not to. At least not when he’s become so attuned to listening.

Jeongguk is pacing his room when Yoongi looks over, phone against his ear and a frown marring his pretty features. Yoongi wants to march over there and run his fingers the crease in Jeongguk’s brow, maybe kiss him, maybe tell him he loves him, maybe cuddle him for hours to bring that adorable smile back, the one with his front teeth showing like a bunny.

But he can’t.

He shouldn’t.

Not when Jeongguk is arguing with his boyfriend.

Not when Yoongi and Jeongguk have been best friends – and neighbours – for years.

Not when Jeongguk doesn’t love Yoongi back.

He sits on his bed, glancing between the forgotten textbooks that lay before him and his window, watching as Jeongguk moves around in frustration. And Yoongi knows it’s frustration too. Has known the younger for long enough to distinguish the tense shoulders, the slightly narrowed eyes, the teeth chewing precariously on his lower lip. Jeongguk would do those things when they were younger, when a random other kid at the playground didn’t want to let him and Yoongi join their games. Or when he got a little older, and was grounded for the first time because he snuck out to go to a party.

A buzz startles Yoongi from his thoughts, cheeks flushing as he looks down to his phone, finding a text from his very own boy next door.

Gukkie 8:46pm

You look lost in thought :p

Yoongi glances up, eyes widening when he catches sight of Jeongguk sitting on his bed, head tilted to the side ever so slightly and – looking right over here. His heart does a swooping motion quickly, when he flushes and fumbles for his phone to reply, Jeongguk tilting his head back in a silent laugh.

Yoongi 8:50pm

Was just doing homework. ;;

Biting his lip, Yoongi watches as Jeongguk reads the text, nodding in understanding and moving to stand up.

With a brazen act of courage Yoongi didn’t think he’d muster, he quickly typed out another text before the other turned his attention away.

Yoongi 8:51pm

You ok?

Yoongi watches as Jeongguk almost dives for his phone, a little chuckle escaping as he peeks through his bangs, watching, waiting.

Jeongguk types furiously, tongue sticking out and making Yoongi’s breathe leave in one fallow swoop.

Gukkie 8:52pm

Yeah, I’m fine.

Just you know

Tired of all the drama. -_-

Jeongguk shrugs when Yoongi looks back up. He looks so tired. Shoulders sagged now that his frustration has manifested into exhaustion. Yoongi can only imagine what it’s like, being in his position.

Yoongi 8:54pm

I’m sorry ):

... I love you [Draft]

Delete Draft?                             [Yes]                        No

Draft Deleted.

When Yoongi gains the courage to look back up across the window, Jeongguk has already closed his curtains, the light dimming. Heaving a sigh, Yoongi flops back down on his bed. Why did he have to be such a coward? If he’d just told Jeongguk how he felt back in freshman year, back when Yoongi was Jeongguk’s whole world, being a year older and all that jazz, then things would’ve been so much different. Instead, he waited, feigning ignorance on his own damn feelings because he thought that Jeongguk wouldn’t leave him. He was a little nerdy, a lot dorky, and far too tall and skinny for his limbs to work properly. Yoongi had no doubt that he would be Jeongguk’s only friend going into his latter years of high school.

Except everything took a turn for the worst.

Or well, worse is a relative term in this case.

Because when Jeongguk arrived in high school, fresh off a summer of working out and puberty hitting him like a goddamn semi truck. The whole school wanted to be his friend. He suddenly had several after school projects, clubs and people that vied for his every second of extra attention. And because Yoongi was thoughtful, and considerate, he shook off Jeongguk’s apologies when he missed a hangout between them, when he cancelled on their weekly Saturday night impromptu piano classes, or when he stopped texting Yoongi back in general.

It was fine though, because they were still neighbours. They still walked to school together. Yoongi still waited at the bench on the curb between their houses for Jeongguk every morning, a book in his lap and music playing softly.

Everything was fine.

Until it wasn’t.

Not two weeks into Yoongi’s Junior year, Jeongguk’s sophomore year, when it happened.

Word spread quickly, and at first Yoongi didn’t believe it. He’d spent the latter half of summer vacation hanging out with Jeongguk like they used to, playing video games, Yoongi teaching Jeongguk the piano, or hanging out at the mall, gut loading each other with cheese fries and large sodas. So, it’s understandable that Yoongi chose not to believe the recent gossip. Simply shrugging when someone asked him for confirmation on the topic. Yoongi didn’t know the answer, because Jeongguk hadn’t told him anything since school started.

But then he saw them.

There they were, bold and smiling and oh so popular, flitting around one another with an ease that Yoongi wished he had with the younger.

Jeongguk and Jimin – Yoongi knew of Jimin, but never formally ‘met’ him because of conflicting interests, and you know, jealousy – took the school by storm. Everyone knew about them, or of them, or wanted to be around them.

It’s not that surprising how quickly news spread. Star Quarterback Jeon Jeongguk, holder of one city championship already and he was only in his second year of playing Football, was dating head Cheerleader Park Jimin, the dance prodigy turned Cheer captain that brought his squad to regionals two years in a row. Not only was Jeongguk not out, but everyone knew of him as a bit of a heart breaker, always having piles of girls confessing, but never any one that stuck.

Sure, Jeongguk went on dates with them, but it always ended with a chaste kiss on the cheek or something equally mundane and not at all sexual, and he’d move on to the next.

So to hear that he was now in a committed relationship with none other than loud and proud, LGBTQ advocate Jimin?

Yeah. Yoongi was baffled.

But considering his dwindling place in Jeongguk’s life, what with all the sports and dates and now his boyfriend, Yoongi chose to plainly ignore everything, and simply just keep his cookie cutter part of the deal.

Jeongguk wouldn’t just forget about him.

...Right?

                                                          ---

Yoongi was sitting at the bench – their bench – early one morning, ear buds in and music loud. He was waiting for Hoseok to show up, being his ride and all that jazz, but had decided to wait outdoors instead of inside, since it was beginning to become chillier nights, this was a rare occasion to be able to sit outside and not freeze to death.

He was so engrossed in his music and novel that he didn’t even hear the door slam behind him, only jumping with a start when a pair of hands covered his eyes.

“-The fuck you think you’re do- Jeongguk?” Yoongi blanked, blinking deadpan as Jeongguk sat gingerly down beside him, albeit a little too close for Yoongi’s heart to handle without beating out of his chest, but beside him nonetheless.

Jeongguk opens his mouth and says something, eyes little crescents as he laughs after.

But Yoongi realizes blatantly that his music is so loud, that he didn’t hear what the other had sad at all. So he quickly ripped his ear buds out, in a haste he hopes the younger didn’t catch, and quietly asks what he’d said.

Jeongguk grins, before repeating, “I asked if I scared you?”

Yoongi bristles, cheeks heating instantly. “No.” He huffs, turning back to look at his book once more. “I was just distracted.”

Jeongguk hums, still smiling, as he reaches over and ever so slowly, tucks a stray strand of dull red hair behind Yoongi’s ear, grinning so wide his bunny teeth are the focal point of his face.

Yoongi feels his blush deepen, reaching his ears and back of his neck as his heart hammers painfully against his ribs. He should’ve worn a hat. Or something. Why did Jeongguk do that? Was the hair in his way? But Yoongi didn’t notice it until after the younger had moved it, so maybe he was just used to it by now. His hair was getting longer.

“Thank you.” Yoongi shyly says, chewing his lip as he looks up through his lashes. Jeongguk is still smiling, but there such a fond twinkle to his eye that Yoongi swears he’s never had while looking at Jimin.

Or you.

“So what are you waiting out here for?” Jeongguk startles him out of his thoughts again, throwing an arm over the back of the bench and letting his fingers play idly with a few strands of Yoongi’s hair. It’s a distracting aspect, considering Yoongi is trying so hard not to just lean into his hand, to further embarrass himself in front of the younger.

Clearing his throat and looking down the road, Yoongi tries to look as unaffected as possible. Tries being the operative word here. “Hoseok is picking me up, so I figured I’d wait outside today.”

Something passes across Jeongguk’s features quickly, but is gone before Yoongi can look too far into it. He’s smiling again, although his one is a bit more tight, a lot more forced than a few minutes ago. “Hoseok huh? You’ve seem to take a liking to him lately.”

Yoongi flushes again, sputtering for a response. “He’s in most of my classes, so he’s been helping me with stuff I can’t seem to understand.” Swallowing thickly through the tension, Yoongi quietly adds. “Plus, he’s been making an effort to hang out with me.”

Yoongi sees the exact second Jeongguk understands the underlying meaning behind his words. Sees the wave of emotion wash across his features in such a quick pace, he’s surprised Jeongguk doesn’t get whiplash.

Gone is the smiling, bunny like boy next door before him.

Here is the stoic, hard featured Jeon Jeongguk, who retracts the arm laying haphazardly against the back of the bench so quick, he almost hits himself in the face.

Yoongi wants to apologize.

Wants to turn back the clock and stay inside this morning.

But before he can get a word out, a car horn is blaring down the road.

Both Yoongi and Jeongguk turn to look at who’s arrival is so alarmingly loud at 8 in the morning. The screeching of tires is louder than the horn, the music even louder. The convertible comes to a stop before them, bringing forward a nasty smell of burnt rubber and gasoline. Yoongi crinkles his nose in disgust at the intrusion, rolling his eyes when Jimin honks again.

“Hey baby!” Jimin hollers, waving his tiny hand around like there is someone else Jeongguk might mistake him for.

Jeongguk sighs, but plasters a smile on his face and stands, not even throwing a fleeting look back at Yoongi. He shuffles into the candy red car, tossing his gym bag in the back that Yoongi was unaware he even had out here, before plopping down into the passenger seat. Not a second before his ass hits the upholstery does Jimin reaches out a hand, stubby fingers locking around the back of Jeongguk’s neck, pulling him down and into a kiss.

Something painful lodges itself in Yoongi’s throat as he watches, dumbstruck and unable to turn away as Jimin moans out a quiet sound. Red hot jealousy courses through his veins as he catches gaze with Jimin, who is smirking something wicked as Jeongguk presumably kisses his neck, tilting his head to the side and moaning a little louder at something the younger does. Yoongi tries. He really does. He tries to look away. To ignore the painful throb of his heart in his chest, to ignore the devilish glint in Jimin’s eye.

But he can’t.

The burning behind his eyes indicate just how close he is to tears though, so with a painful breathe, Yoongi stands, turning his back to the couple making out in the car.

Within seconds the sound of another vehicle breaks through the murky waters of Yoongi’s mind, alerting him of his own ride. Shaking his head to rid himself of nasty thoughts, Yoongi shot one last look at Jeongguk – who still had his face in Jimin’s neck, like how do you even breathe??? - before making his way down the road to Hoseok’s Jeep, hopping into the passenger seat with ease.

“Yo, Yoongles. What’s up?” Hoseok asks, obviously to the tension outside, unaware of Yoongi’s soured mood and dampening mental.

“Nothing much Hobi, how’s your morning?” Yoongi asks, leaning his head against the window as Hoseok pulls away, driving past the still – its a wonder Jimin’s neck isn’t spit covered and dripping with all that kissing – making out couple.

Jeongguk looks up from Jimin’s neck as they pass. A dark look in his eyes.

Yoongi pays no mind to Hoseok the rest of the way to school, and if the other notices, he sure doesn’t say anything.

                                                          ---

When Yoongi arrives home, he’s not even surprised to see Taehyung lounging on his bed. The younger has been an avid part of Yoongi’s life since he helped him in pre-cal last year. Now Taehyung insists that he owes Yoongi his life – and in turn, his undying attention and affection.

As long as no one tells Taehyung that Yoongi actually really likes the affection, then everything is good.

“Hey Tae.” Yoongi says as his backpack drops to the ground with a thud, throwing his lithe body into the computer chair near his desk. “What do I owe this pleasure?”

Taehyung smiles wide, that boxy boyish smile Yoongi might have fallen in love with at one time or another, before hoping off the bed with ease. “We’re gonna give you a makeover!”

“We?” Yoongi quirks a brow, twirling around in his chair slowly. “And why are we doing this?”

Taehyung huffs, yanking the smaller male to his feet with ease. “Because! It’ll help with your confidence! And general self esteem!”

Yoongi opens his mouth to protest that his confidence is perfectly fine, but before he can, Taehyung adds:

“Plus I know you’re in love with Gukkie! So we’re gonna win his heart over! Got it? Good!” Yoongi feels his cheeks heat instantly, a bright burning feeling that matches the bright shade of the youngers hair before him.

“I – I don’t know what you’re talking – about.” He stutters, embarrassing himself more with the jumbled sentence. “Shut up.”

Taehyung’s tinkling laughter is bouncing off the walls as he meanders over to Yoongi’s closet, choosing to ignore the grumbling of the older. “Now see, I don’t know why Gukkie doesn’t just go for you instead of that attention whore Jimin.”

“Jimin is head cheerleader. It makes sense that they’re together.” Yoongi adds quietly, moving to sit on the bed and watch more closely as Taehyung begins to pull random clothing from the closet. “I’m on the bleachers.” He adds, shaking his head when Taehyung shows him a pair of leather pants with a grin. “C’mon Taetae. Jimin wears mini skirts and makeup! I wear band shirts and plaid.” He shakes his head again when Taehyung throws a pair of ripped up black skinny jeans on the bed beside him. “Jeongguk doesn’t like me, he doesn’t see me.”

Taehyung sighs, sitting down beside Yoongi and grabbing his hand. “Yoongi. Jeongguk likes you. Like a lot. I can see it. Hoseok can see it. The only people who don’t,” he presses a finger against Yoongi’s breastbone, a soft smile on his face, “is you and him. But we will make him see. He’ll wake up and find that you’re what he’s been looking for this whole time, alright?”

Yoongi sighs, a heavy breathe leaving him in a whoosh. He can’t argue with Taehyung, it’d be never ending and impossible to win. So he just bites his lip and nods, laughing when the younger pulls him up and pushes the skinny jeans into his arms. “I’ll try stuff on with you, ok?”

Taehyung’s laughter echoes through the room when Yoongi nods again, taking the jeans and heading to the closet.

Half hour later, and the pair are dressed in all black, Yoongi in a leather jacket while Taehyung rocks a blazer, each adorned with a thin black choker, giggling to one another as they dance around to the music blaring through Yoongi’s speakers.

Yoongi is so distracted by the dancing, singing, playing around with Taehyung that he doesn’t notice his phone go off, nor does he notice Jeongguk watching, a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes.

                                                        ---

It’s the night of a big game. Yoongi didn’t want to go. Him and Jeongguk were still not talking much, not even their nightly window texting charades were kept up in their tense few weeks. Taehyung insists that Jeongguk is just brooding, possibly jealous of Hoseok, or even Taehyung himself – even though the pair are best friends and spend more than enough time with one another.

Hoseok had diligently hoped on the ‘Get Yoongi and Jeongguk together’ bandwagon, even baking cupcakes for their weekly get together to talk strategy.

Taehyung and Hoseok had come over early on, carrying clothing and cheeky smiles as they pressed themselves into his room, ignoring his pleas and disapproval.

(“Gukkie is gonna love this look on you, I swear!” Taehyung had said while pulling Yoongi’s shirt off his upper body.

“It’s gonna be great, I promise.” Hoseok supplies, pulling out miscellaneous makeup items from a small pouch.)

So here Yoongi sat, squished between an excited Hoseok hollering at his friend who’s playing, and an even more energetic Taehyung, who’s clad in Namjoon’s jersey and covered in face paint, screaming his head off about his boyfriend being the best.

“Guys. I really don’t want to be here.” Yoongi whines, shifting around as he tries to nonchalantly look for a certain number 97. “Why can’t I just go sit at home? I have homework you know.”

Taehyung huffs, shaking his head. “You have all weekend to do your damn homework Yoongi! Enjoy yourself! We should be winning this by a long shot. So we’re gonna head to an after party at Jackson’s place, alright?”

Yoongi groans in response, shaking his head and making to stand up before the shrill sound of the whistle distracts him. Looking up with a quirked brow, he very easily finds Jeongguk among the crowd of players, helmet in hand and – looking right over here.

Jeongguk is looking at Yoongi.

Jeongguk is staring.

At Yoongi.

Yoongi blanks, mouth going dry as he stands, silent and not moving as the younger lifts a hand, waving slowly, a boyish smile gracing his beautiful features. Yoongi swallows hard past the lump in his throat, looking around quickly, scanning to see if Jeongguk was waving at someone else – anyone else. But Yoongi comes up blank, everyone around him distracted by something else, or watching other players.

A sharp elbow hits his ribs, pulling a pained gasp from Yoongi.

“You gonna stand there ogling all night? Or you gonna wave back?” Taehyung asks, wiggling his eyebrows when Yoongi glares down at him.

“He’s not even waving at me Tae! Shut up.” Yoongi fires back, hoping the darkening daylight is enough to cover his flushed cheeks. Sparing another glace to where Jeongguk is still standing and still staring, Yoongi finally sighs, raising a hand slowly and waves precariously back.

Jeongguk’s smile gets even brighter, before he nods slightly. And he’s putting on his helmet and running down the field to the rest of his team.

Yoongi’s heart is beating so loud, he hopes Taehyung and Hoseok can’t hear it.

They probably can.

                                                       ---

Halftime comes with a loud cheer.

Their schools team is in the lead, by a fair margin at that, but Taehyung insists they will win. So Yoongi isn’t allowed to leave yet.

Hoseok leaves to grab more snacks, and to say hi to his friend quickly. Taehyung is bouncing in his seat, waiting patiently to see if Namjoon will come out to see him before the third quarter starts. Yoongi is just as nervous, for what? He’s not sure.

He watches idly as their cheer squad heads out to the middle of the field, situating themselves in well trained poses and lines. Yoongi sees Jimin give an order, before turning to the bleachers and smiling wide, eyes little crescents on his tiny face.

If he wasn’t such a bitch, Yoongi might’ve liked him too.

Jimin shouts out a command, and the music starts.

The squad starts, two members flipping forward while Jimin and another girl are tossed high up, landing on their feet with big smiles and even bigger poses. It continues like this for another 10ish minutes, before they start shouting out commands for the crowd to follow. Yoongi startles when a guy behind him bellows out a near shriek when Jimin says ‘everyone scream!’.

Then their done, and Yoongi watches as Jimin and his team make their way back to the chairs they were once seated on. Jimin turns right before making it back to the rows of chairs though, and begins chatting animatedly with a player from the other team.

Yoongi feels his blood run hot when he watches, idly and seething, as Jimin laughs brightly, head back and hand landing on the bicep of the random player. Random player guy reaches out then, a precariously placed hand on Jimin’s tiny waist. Jimin pushes into the touch, a darker smile covering his otherwise angel like features.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi whispers under his breath, knuckles so tight they’re white from blood loss. He doesn’t see them shaking, but he can feel it when he unclenches his fingers. How can someone who has Jeongguk, who’s been dating Jeongguk for years, be so outwardly flirting with a complete stranger??

“So I totally got to see Joonie before he went back in to get the pep talk from Gukkie and – hey, you ok?” Taehyung asks, fingers tentatively reaching out to pry Yoongi’s fingers apart, concern washing over his features quickly. “What’s wrong?”

Hoseok arrives back soon after, smile wiped clean when he takes one look at Yoongi, cheeks flushed red with agitation and fingers gone stiff and sore from their clenched position on his lap.

“Yo, what’s up with him?” Taehyung shakes his head at Hoseok’s question, hand rubbing slow circles around Yoongi’s back in hopes of easing the tension.

But Yoongi can’t seem to calm down. All he sees is red as Jimin leans closer to random player dude, eyes that same dark desire that they are when Yoongi catches a glimpse of him and Jeongguk in Jeongguk’s bedroom.

Yoongi wants to march down there and rip Jimin’s stubby little fingers off of the random guy, wants to shout in his face and scream and hit him and make him see how stupid and reckless he’s being with Jeongguk’s heart at this moment.

But Jeongguk shows up in his peripheral then, and Yoongi freezes.

“No no no, shit.” Yoongi stands quickly, pushing past Taehyung – who’s now even more confused, calling his name over and over but Yoongi ignores him – and makes his way to the steps leading down to the field. He has to get to Jeongguk. Has to stop him from seeing.

From hurting.

But as he hits the second last step, he hears it.

“Jimin?” Jeongguk’s voice is timid, like a scared animal. “Who’s this?”

Jimin sighs, Yoongi can hear the sound from where he stands, stalk still. It causes more anger to burn into him. To think, Jimin is treating Jeongguk finding him flirting with someone else as a chore.

“This is Jin! Isn’t he cute?” Jimin turns then, angel like smile back on his face. Yoongi scoffs, shaking his head as he goes to move down the steps again.

“What’s going on?” Jeongguk asks. Yoongi stops again. Jeongguk sounds so sad.

“Jin invited me to his after party.” Jimin replies, a little bounce in his step as he places a hand back on random player guy’s – Jin – shoulder.

“Are you serious?”

Yoongi looks up quickly, seeing the anger wash over Jeongguk’s features instantly. His fingers curl into fists, his eyes narrowing as he zeros in on Jimin’s fingers curling around the collar of Jin’s jersey. “What the fuck are you doing Jimin?!” Yoongi startles at Jeongguk’s raised voice, not loud enough to be heard from where he was formerly sitting with Taehyung and Hoseok, but from where he stood now, he could hear it loud as day.

Jimin’s smile turns sickly then, and his eyes narrow slightly. “I’m just talking Gukkie. Can’t you see that?”

Jeongguk grits his teeth, responding through his frustration. “Like you were just talking with Jaebum? Or what about when you were just talking to Kihyun?”

Yoongi gasps, watches from his perch on the steps as Jeongguk’s lower lip wobbles slightly, easy to miss if you weren’t watching. Jeongguk clenches his eyes shut tight, taking a deep, shaky breath, before letting it out even slower.

“You know what?” Jeongguk says then, quieter but more emotion. “Fuck this. I’m done.” He turns on his heel then, brushing off the hand Jimin reaches out and puts on his wrist.

“Gukkie wait!”

“Go to hell Jimin.” Jeongguk seethes, tossing his helmet down in anger and taking off towards the steps.

Right towards Yoongi.

Yoongi – for lack of a better word – freaks out then. His hand start to shake easily when Jeongguk is at the base of the stairs. His fingers itch to reach out when Jeongguk’s on the first step.

But Jeongguk brushes past him quickly.

Yoongi can’t tell if it’s imagination or not, but he swears Jeongguk had shiny streaks of wetness running down his cheeks, eyes bright.

“Jeongguk..” Yoongi turns, whispers into the air as he watches Jeongguk take off up the stairs, then over the railing and down the other side, out of view and probably breaking quickly.

“....Wait.” Yoongi whispers again, a tear escaping his burning eyes then. Yoongi hastily wipes it away and takes off up the stairs, determined to catch the younger before he leaves.

But as he reaches the top step, he catches sight of Jeongguk, face in his hands as he jumps into an awaiting car.

“Gukkie..” Yoongi reaches out, but the car is already turning away. “Wait for me, please.”

                                                      ---

New spreads quick.

Star quarterback Jeon Jeongguk leaves in the middle of last nights game, breaks up with head cheerleader Park Jimin right before bolting!

Yoongi sighs at the school newspaper laying on the table, shaking his head and picking it up to toss is in the garbage.

Yoongi had made it home last night to find Jeongguk’s curtain closed, phone off and lights dark. He didn’t pick up any calls, nor did he even read the messages Yoongi had sent him.

Now the younger wasn’t even at school, and Yoongi would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried. Jeongguk never missed class. At least not unless he was literally dying from an illness, but then he would let Yoongi know to get him his schoolwork.

Now though?

Jeongguk was ghosting everyone – Taehyung included – and now ditching class.

Yoongi clenched his teeth and ignored the pain flaring in his chest at the thought of the younger being in pain, of handling that pain alone.

Next time he sees Jeongguk, he’s going to talk to him.

Truthfully.

                                                     ---

Jeongguk arrives back at school the following Thursday, dark shadows under his eyes looking closer to makeup or bruises than his normal, lively skin. Yoongi watches as he meanders through the hallway, pace slow like he doesn’t care where he goes or when he gets there. He walks behind him a little ways back, watching as he weaves in and out of the crowd, many people passing by him with loud whispers and pointing, staring unabashedly.

Jeongguk ignores them all.

Even the girl that steps up to him slowly, a flowery note in her hands as she shyly hands it off, cheeks pink and eyes on the floor.

Jeongguk looks down at the note, but shakes his head and hands it back, brushing past the girl even when tears start to fall.

Yoongi doesn’t talk to Jeongguk yet.

                                                      ---

It’s prom night and Yoongi isn’t going.

Not that he doesn’t want to go. He does. Taehyung and Hoseok also want him to go, Hoseok even asking him as a ‘friend date’ but Yoongi declined.

Things were still tense at school, since Jeongguk and Jimin broke up. Jimin is handling it fine, already dancing around the school corridors, loudly talking to anybody that will listen about “Seokjinnie!”

Yoongi hates it.

Hates that Jeongguk still looks pale, face lack of colour and that pretty smile. Hates that Jeongguk is still sad when Jimin hurt him, used him, threw him away, and doesn’t seem to care at all about Jeongguk’s well being. Yoongi hates Jimin.

And where there’s a party, especially one this fancy and formal, there’s Jimin.

So here is Yoongi, music coming through his speakers, bouncing off the poster clad walls and ringing in his ears as he lounges on his bed, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, textbooks open and fingers poised with a pen. He’s trying to do homework (keyword, trying), but his mind keeps wandering.

There’s movement to his right, alerting his constantly active mind of Jeongguk’s presence in his bedroom, before the light gets turned on.

Yoongi watches idly, pen between his lips as Jeongguk flits around his room, looking quite frantic like he’s lost something. Yoongi smiles at his antics, tilting his head to continue watching. Jeongguk spins in a circle, before throwing his arms up in what Yoongi assumes is success before the younger disappears behind the wall.

With a shrug, Yoongi goes back to his work, ignoring the pitter patter of the butterflies in his stomach at seeing Jeongguk looking so alive again.

He’s only pulled from a particularly tricky math question by the sound of his phone going off.

Gukkie 7:14pm

You coming tonight?

Yoongi blinks down at his screen, once, twice, before looking over to his window and across, startling when he catches sight of Jeongguk standing there.

In a suit.

Holy shit.

Yoongi’s brain sort of short circuits, only a little bit, as he blankly stares at how the material stretches over his biceps with ease, makes his shoulders look wider and his waist look thinner and holy shit Yoongi might be dying.

Or dreaming.

Definitely dreaming.

His phone goes off again, and Yoongi jumps back to reality to bad, he throws his textbook off his bed with a loud thump.

Gukkie 7:16pm

Yoongi?

LMAO

Did you just

toss

your math textbook on the floor??????

Yoongi flushes bright red at the texts, hoping and praying Jeongguk can’t see the flush from where he stands. He shakes his head quickly, furiously typing back a response.

Yoongi 7:17pm

No >.>

And no.

Studying. :/

Yoongi watches as Jeongguk reads the messages with a small smile still on his face, but it slowly drops as he rereads the message, looking back up and pouting – literally pouting at Yoongi! - before typing again.

Gukkie 7:18pm

Oh.

I see.

Yoongi 7:18pm

...I love you [Draft]

Please don’t leave me. [Draft]

Delete Drafts?                               [Yes]                         No

Drafts Deleted.

Yoongi feels a painful tug on his heart. It’s not normal to feel this disappointed in himself, but with Jeongguk still pouting at him, it’s impossible not to feel down. Yoongi shrugs as Jeongguk playfully waves him over, but the younger finally heaves a visible sigh and waves once again before turning around and leaving his room.

Yoongi tries to rub the pain in his chest away with a few fingers on his breastbone, but with no avail.

Should he go?

Jeongguk was going alone, so clearly Yoongi can too.

He could call Hoseok up, maybe agree to his ‘friend date’?

But what if Jeongguk has a date he’s meeting there? Wouldn’t that be just the best for Yoongi’s health. Hype himself up so much that he gets even more crushed by going?

No thanks.

But what if Jeongguk is actually going alone? What if he’s going just cause he wants to go, and not because someone (read: Jimin) asked him to go? What if Yoongi went, and Jeongguk found him in the crowd? Would Yoongi be able to talk to him then? Or would he have to pretend he hasn’t been in love with Jeongguk for the past 6 years?

Before he could even think of an answer to his million questions, his phone pings again.

Gukkie 7:25pm

Wish you were here. <3

Yoongi stares down at his phone with his knuckles turning white around the device, breathing hiccuping as he tries to process how in the fuck he’s supposed to interpret that.

What if Jeongguk went just so Yoongi would follow?

Yoongi swallows the lump in his throat, and before his courage dissolves, he texts Taehyung.

Yoongi 7:32pm

Taetae!

SOS

I need your help!

                                                        ---

“This is gonna be so much fun!” Taehyung’s shouting at this point, bouncing around in the car so much Yoongi can feel it moving so easily.

“Baby, you gotta relax.” Namjoon cuts in, hand on Taehyung’s shoulder and pulling him to sit down. “It’s just a formal dance, not a rave.”

“But Joonie! Yoongi is here!” Taehyung cries, but despite the pouting, he’s situating himself to be comfier in the confines of Namjoon’s big biceps, wrapped precariously in a suit jacket that looks a wee bit too tight on the taller male.

But Yoongi can’t complain.

“That’s right baby, but if you don’t stop, you’re going to end up kicking Yoongi in the face.” Namjoon chides, brushing a hand through Taehyung’s hair when the younger whines in response.

“I’m fine, thank you though.” Yoongi cuts in then, shaking his head with a smile when Taehyung grins that boxy boyish smile, nuzzling his face into Namjoon’s neck easily. “Taetae, what you are doing?” Yoongi asks, grinning at the pair.

Namjoon flushes, lips in a thin line as Taehyung continues to do something to his neck, but Taehyung just giggles instead of replying, nuzzling closer. Namjoon whines then, flushing darker red at the noise escaping.

Yoongi stifles a laugh at Namjoon’s noise of indignation when Taehyung backs off then, laughing uncontrollably beside the older.

“You are horrible Taehyung.”

“Sure I am handsome,” Taehyung grins, snuggling into Namjoon’s side as he says so.

                                                         ---

“You came!” Hoseok says as he pulls Yoongi into a tight embrace, a smile so bright it rivals the sun adoring his lips when Yoongi pulls back.

“Yeah. Figured why not, right?” Yoongi shrugs then, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, even when he feels his neck break out in a cold sweat at the idea of being this close to Jeongguk after so many weeks of ghosting. “Where’s your date?”

Hoseok bellows a laugh, pointing somewhere behind him. “Soyeon’s off with her friends, ‘I need to fix my makeup Hobi!’ she said, but she looked fine to me.”

Yoongi grunts in lieu of responding, eyes snapping around the room quickly. He’s trying to not look for Jeongguk, but his body is positively buzzing with extra energy and Yoongi just can’t seem to sit still. Or well, stand still, but whatever. Hoseok seems to notice, even with Yoongi’s attempt to brush it off as nothing, before he smiles something wicked and jerks his chin to the left.

“He’s over there. Hanging out with Yugyeom and his friends.”

Yoongi feigns ignorance, shrugging when Hoseok guffaws at his shitty acting skills. “Who?” Yoongi asks, looking the opposite direction and chewing on his lip.

“Alright, whatever man.” Hoseok abides, but quickly shifts gears as he dusts invisible dirt off his outfit. “Wanna dance with me? You know, as payback for denying my request but still coming anyway?” Yoongi sighs, but nods, grinning when Hoseok bows low and grasps Yoongi’s fingers in his own, placing an exaggerated kiss on the back of it before rising.

“Hobi! Stop!” Yoongi chides, cheeks heating up as people steal glances at the duo.

Hoseok snorts as he drags Yoongi closer to the middle of the dance floor. “Alright, alright. Can’t make it seem like you don’t still have feelings for loverboy, can i?” He grins wider when Yoongi’s blush gets darker, sputtering a failed retort before sighing.

“By the way! You look fucking hot!” Hoseok says after the first song ends, his cheeks tinted pink with exertion.

Yoongi grins then, before shimming his body in a failed body roll, laughing when Hoseok chokes on his spit and begins coughing.

“Please never do that again!” Hoseok yells, face flushed from choking and dancing and probably something else. Yoongi just grins wider, and twirls around once more.

“Taetae picked it out.” Yoongi finally informed him, laughing when Hoseok nods in apparent agreement.

“When did you dye your hair?” Hoseok asks, pointing a finger to Yoongi’s head like he himself didn’t notice the sudden change from red to black. Taehyung had insisted that a new hair colour was needed to complete the outfit.

Which was why the three of them were over an hour late for the dance, but whatever.

“Earlier. Taetae said I needed a change, and I agreed.” Yoongi ran his fingers through his hair slowly, heaving a slow breath. “Does it look ok?”

Hoseok narrows his eyes. “Ok? Ok?? Yoongi! You look fucking amazing. Like holy shit I’m so upset at your for being so in love with Je-”

“With who?”

Yoongi freezes then. Hoseok swallows audibly. He’s looking at something – or someone – over Yoongi’s shoulder, but Yoongi doesn’t need a psychic to tell him who when he knows exactly who it is.

“Uh, nothing.” Hoseok chirps, before shooting Yoongi a dangerous look and excusing himself away quickly.

“Hoseok!” Yoongi shouts, but flinches when the voice behind him speaks again.

“I thought you said you weren’t coming?”

Yoongi turns slowly, eyes following the movement of his feet as he comes to stand in front of Jeongguk. His stance is casual, and his leg is bouncing, so Yoongi knows he’s getting impatient. He knows not to test the youngers patience either, seeing as how Jeongguk tends to get whinier and poutier when he doesn’t get what he wants.

“Yoongi?” Jeongguk asks again, taking a step forward but halting when Yoongi inhales sharply, heaving it out in a shaky exhale.

“Jeongguk. Hi.” He finally responds, eyes finally tracking upwards and landing on his collar bones. Not his face, but progress! Plus, they’re really nice collarbones. So who could blame him?

“I thought you weren’t coming tonight?” Jeongguk repeats his question, tilting his head to the side and causing his long hair to shift around his jawline. Yoongi swallows painfully slow, throat suddenly parched and raw.

“I decided to ignore my homework.” Yoongi says as innocently as possible, still not looking the younger in the eye. He sees Jeongguk shift again, arms fumbling for something to do, something to hold or touch.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He doesn’t sound mad. On the contrary, Jeongguk sounds sad, or even a little hurt that Yoongi didn’t think to alert him of his newfound desire to come to the prom.

Yoongi tries to backpedal, tries to gets words out past the sludge in his throat, past the numb feeling of his tongue but nothing works. He stands there, finally staring eye to eye with Jeongguk.

And he can’t do anything.

“Yoongi?” Jeongguk asks quietly, oh so quiet. Yoongi strains to here him, strains to ignore his body screaming at him to reach out. To touch. To hold. To confess.

Isn’t this what he wanted though? For Jeongguk to come see him at the dance? To prove that he’s here alone, and waiting. For what? He doesn’t know. If Jeongguk was here, and willing to search out Yoongi in the crowd of people dancing in this place, then clearly something drew him in. Right?

Right?

Yoongi opens his mouth, closes it, then reopens it. He needs to say something. Needs to tell Jeongguk how much he loves him. How much he means to him.

But before he can get a word out -

“Jeonggukkie!”

Jeongguk curses under his breath at the sound of Jimin’s high pitch squeal, shaking his head and turning on his heel to catch hold of the smaller male launching himself at Jeongguk.

“Baby! Hi! Why aren’t you dancing with me? C’mon!” Jimin hurries through his words, eyes glazed over a little like he’s been drinking.

Yoongi stifles a groan, holding back the dam of tears threatening to spill as he watches, quietly, behind the pair as Jimin surges forward and kisses Jeongguk. He turns then, away and ready to move, to leave or run or just find Taehyung and Hoseok and cry or something when Jimin gasps, catching Yoongi’s attention again.

“Jeongguk! What are you doing baby?” Jimin shrieks, tiny hands curled into fists as Jeongguk pushes Jimin away.

Yoongi gapes as Jeongguk shrugs Jimin’s touches off, shakes his head and turns back to where Yoongi is still standing, still watching.

“JEONGGUK!” Jimin cries then, voice so high it almost breaks glass.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes at Yoongi, causing him to giggle abruptly. Jeongguk turns back quickly, but taking a step back – a step towards Yoongi – and shakes his head again. “I told you before Jimin. I’m done. So please. Just leave me alone.”

Yoongi watches, fascinated, as Jimin’s pretty face flushes a dark red, eyes narrowed into slits as he huffs out a whine, then turns on his heel (in heels) and storms off, not before pushing people out of the way in his wrath.

Jeongguk turns back to Yoongi then, and Yoongi just stares.

“Sorry about that.” Jeongguk rubs the back of his head, eyes downcast and cheeks pink.

He raises his eyes again, frowning when he sees the device in Yoongi’s hands, but when he goes to ask, opens his mouth and begins to talk, his phone goes off in his pocket. Silencing him easily.

Yoongi watches in muted distress. Jeongguk’s frown deepens as he reaches for his phone, brows furrowing as he slowly unlocks it. Yoongi is beginning to panic when he sees the screen light up – Jeongguk’s homescreen picture an image of him and Taehyung, squished together and smiling wide. Yoongi isn’t jealous. Not at all. But right now, Yoongi is freaking out. Jeongguk presses his thumb on the messages app, and reads the text.

And rereads it.

And again.

Yoongi 8:54pm

I love you.

Yoongi watches as Jeongguk looks up quickly, opens his mouth to reply, but clearly thinking better of it as he snaps his jaw shut and glares down at his phone, typing quickly.

Yoongi is about to turn on his heels and bolt when the phone in his hands pings with an alert.

Oh shit.

He doesn’t want to see. He doesn’t want to see the rejection. Clear as day. Written out for him in bold letters and a pretty background. Doesn’t want to feel his chest be ripped open in front of all these people – all his peers, his friends, his crush.

But Jeongguk’s eyes are pleading, and Yoongi can’t say no to him no matter how hard he tries.

Gukkie 8:57pm

I love you.

Yoongi gasps. Jeongguk surges forward.

The background people become a blur, the noise muted. Yoongi watches in stilted silence as Jeongguk takes one, two, three steps and is face to face with him instantly. He’s looking down at Yoongi with so much adoration, so much want, so much love. Yoongi feels his chest blossom, with love, with pride, with a smile and a giggle, with a young boy who was too shy to talk to anyone but his next door neighbour, with a fearless quarterback that handled a broken foot like a champ.

Yoongi watches as Jeongguk reaches forward, fingers tentative as they search out his face, his cheeks, his jaw, his soul.

Jeongguk smiles then, and his eyes are wet and Yoongi can’t seem to get a word out.

So he does the next best thing.

He uses courage he didn’t think he mustered and surges forward on his own, crashing his lips against Jeongguk’s smile and never letting go.

Jeongguk stills for a second, two, then gains his courage back, and kisses Yoongi back.

He kisses Yoongi back.

[dinoalexander]

Your Moment of Zen: The Gourmet Academy’s Semi-Quotable 2018 Quotedown Quotetacular PART 1

Ladies and gentlemen and non-binary conforming life forms across seven star systems... The Gourmet Academy’s World Famous Get Down Like a Hound Party ‘til You Puke Semi-Quotable 2018 Quotedown Quotetacular IS ON!

—

“Five. Four. Three. Two. Shutupryanseacrest... OH SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII.....” -Kyle H

“Zorb Skee Ball.” -Evil Travis

“Hello there! Welcome to another episode of the cash show! So good to see ya! You look fantastic. Hopefully you feel as good as you look and are you feeling lucky? Because this is the place to be. The Cash Show is on right now with a chance to win cold hard cash. This is trivia, it’s 12 questions in all, and that money goes right to your PayPal account. No muss, no fuss, very easy, very fun. Now here’s how the game works. 12 questions in all, we have non-prize questions and prize questions. If you get through all the non-prize questions to the prize question rounds, that’s where you start seeing that cold hard cash coming right into your PayPal account. And that’s where it gets really really frantic and really crazy and that’s what it’s all about, right? That’s what it’s all about. Now, I’m gonna give you some tips, are you ready? Now, come in a little bit closer just because I don’t want you to miss this: You can get extra lives by inviting your family and friends to play the game! The more people you invite in, the more lives each of you will get! It’s just that easy and you know , one more tip? I think you need one more. Connect your Facebook account to eliminate wrong answers. That’s what it’s all about! Right here on the Cash Show! So don’t forget to turn on your push notifications. Please spread the word about turning on the push notifications, because you know what, let’s face it: If you don’t know were’s here, you can’t play the game, and if you can’t play the game, you can’t win the cold, hard cash for answering trivia questions. Are you ready? I know I am! Let’s get started! :point_right: :smirk: :point_right:” -the Ghost of Rafael Siegel

“This is becoming a Ken Burns opus, and it’s my turn to testify.” -Jon D.

“Always fun to look at, even if it can be a total mindf**k.” -Carl

“Our whole job is boxes and commas.” -She Who Shall Not Be Named

“I’m dyslexic. I once went to a toga party as a goat.” -Matt, your cruise director

“They told me I couldn’t. That’s why I did.” -Metaphysical Mike

“As someone who has been quoted in this before, I can safely say that I said nothing dumb enough or smart enough to be on the list this year.” -Lee

"The Facebook posts of 2016 and 2017 compel me to begin 2018 with a warning that bad things will continue happening to famous people and we all need to just accept that. Mmkay?" -Nedeff

“Mother Goose was a dick.” -Jordan

“What do the points from 'Whose Line is it Anyway', the coins in Mario Kart 8, and thoughts and prayers have in common?

At face value, they seem nice, but at the end of the day they mean nothing.” -Nikki

“I remember saying, one very snowy winter when my kids were very young, "Honest to God, if we have one more snow day, I'm going to need UN peacekeepers sent to my house!"” -Vaughn

“We don’t have ordinary. We have college students.” -Cinda

“If you can’t sound like a sick puberty ridden teen with your friends, who can you sound like a sick puberty ridden teen with?” -C

“We’re here to make memories, not stains.” -Color Run MC

“Stains ARE memories!” -Christina

“I love that Funny You Should Ask calls their $5,000 bonus round the "big money" round. Because Byron Allen is a cheapskate.” -BFG

“If you don’t like things just cause they “main stream” then you don’t like oxygen cause we all into that sh*t. So time to end it all. Also, the first Fast and the Furious was LIT!” -Christina

“If professional wrestling is a soap opera for guys… Then I will state that Lucha underground is a Telenovela for guys” -Brian Henegar

“I feel like I’m in a Grand Tour episode. Only I’m Hamster & she’s Clarkson.” -C riding Q’s new car

"The Rex Grossman Man of the Year Award will go to Nathan Peterman this year." -Greg

“There is an actual Change.org petition to have Rian Johnson "admit that The Last Jedi is awful". Actual people are signing it. Somebody hail the closest freighter, I'd like to get off of this planet, please.” -Laura

“Going to McDonald's for a salad is like going to a whore for a hug.” -Leslie

“Every now and then Jordan knows things.” -Thrash

"There is only so much joy in making Mr. Alexander's Quote Wall that if I exert any more joy, I could do dishes for the entire city of Tacoma." -Cyndi

“I swear to God, if this thing crashes, I will not vamp for time like a total Rogowsky.” -Cookie Masterson

“I’m not going to lie. I got a partial when Johnny Gilbert said my name.” -C

“If you’re not gonna lie, I’m not gonna lie. ... I know you did.” -Q

“It is so cold that you have to wear five layers to protect your nether regions.” -Jay

“I’m waiting on your Mark Hamill bits.” -C

“I like to name my iPad the Edmund Fitzgerald so when i plug it into my computer it says ‘The Edmund Fitzgerald is syncing.’” -Katie

"Dammit, son. My computer only has so much RAM." -Klaussie

""Daaaamn, girl....whatchu do to my RAM? Got me overclockin' like a motherfucker."

"Yes, my X-Men name is Spinlock."" -Laura

“I have an idea. It’s not a good idea, but it’s an idea.” -Klaussie

“The button isn't bigger, his hands are just smaller.” -Lisa

“ no one ever wrote a song about a girl with a small ass.” -Shannon

“The same people who are eating Tide Pods are the same people who ate Play-Doh because it was Non-Toxic. Stupidity doesn't go away, it just grabs hold of a new bunch of rubes with a new trick.” -Cyndi

“So! What did I miss?” -Q channeling Thomas Jefferson.

“Oh.... you know.... stuff.” -my response

“I ain’t driving 80 miles to get a goddamned cat!” -Kyle

“The 30 second version - I am the contestant coordinator for this. and the people in charge of power on this got into a snit with one of the people in charge of TCONA and it turned into people sending emails saying they won't show up because of this person and it makes the UBA seem like a United Nations Peace Conference.” -Gordon

“Everybody loves a halftime show. Give’m Lady Gaga, they’ll be Gaga forever.” -Greg’s dad

“Drunken men think different than caffeinated lesbians.” -Kimberly

“Tim Tebow... Why are you still sportsing?” -She Who Shall Not Be Named

“The prices of these Hamilton tickets make me feel Drake like emotions.” -Stephanie

“I’ve expanded my skills. I now forget what I’m doing while I’m doing it.” -Woody Paige

“Booty holes on the tip of your tongue?” -Michael

“People are always saying, “the world doesn’t revolve around you,” and I’m like, “I never said it did, it revolves around the sun. What I was saying is I’m the most important person on the planet and everyone should be extremely concerned about whether or not I’m happy...”” -Christina