#Like with all the awful movies too cause the producers know it doesn’t actually have to be good bc they know it’ll get bought by those

[cookie-nom-nom]

Spirituality is supposed to be hard. So often it’s taught as believe xyz and don’t question it, but that’s obviously unhealthy and authoritarian. From my experience spiritually should be this wrestling with ideas, asking questions and staring dead on at the parts that don’t make sense. A lot of the reason why Christian rock sucks is because it’s just playing it safe, which is an insult to both aspects but specifically rock? You took rock and wanted to make it easily palatable? Seriously?

(Don’t mind me, just going to ramble a bit.) Anyway, I think one of my favorite lines in a contemporary Christian song is “God, are you awake at night?” It comes at a quiet part, almost a plea but also a challenge. And it’s such a human thing, staring at the walls for hours trying to fall asleep, wrestling with thoughts and feeling completely alone. And a lot of the song deals with isolation, so it could be read as reaching out spiritually to try and not feel alone. But I hear it a little different. “God, are you awake at night, too?” And suddenly it’s asking not for protection but for connection. It’s asking if God, too, has doubts and anxiety and feels alone sometimes, if God knows what it’s like to be overwhelmed by your own thoughts. It almost feels like the singer is asking if God can actually be a relatable human. And in general churches try to say yes, of course, Jesus was both divinity and man. But they don’t mean God is actually human, they mean he’s ideally human. He’s not human in all the messy, real ways. And that to me erases the point. Because, yes, Jesus did lie awake at night, wrestling with doubt and fear, praying to God and begging for a way out of his upcoming death. God knows what that fundamentally human experience feels like. It’s less a simple answer of ‘God is there silly so stop being stressed’ and more ‘God has been there too.’ Sympathy v empathy, a deeper connection because it’s relatable, it’s actual kinship. Asking questions maybe isn’t evil and can deepen faith?? Who’d have guess actually analyzing something is good for you. There should be questions in faith. Challenges to both you and your god(s). And that’s why fundamentally most Christian contemporary music isn’t good, because it doesn’t want to ask questions or rock the boat out of fear of losing its audience and money. It wants to be as palatable as possible, distilled down for the sake of profit. Which is a problem with a lot of art designed to have broad appeal, but it gets especially bad in Christian media because it has a basically guaranteed large audience no matter how generic. Which, honestly, is disrespectful both to art and God.

Yall ever heard white church music? Christian rock is one of the most gratingly generic and repetitive genres of music out there by a mile. It sucks so fucking bad. I am talking about this now because someone is sitting in front of the hospital and blaring “how great? Is our god?” As loud as the speakers in his truck can handle

[nekoma-not-lee]

Day 21 - Haunted House

CC!Tubbo & CC!Ranboo/CC!Tommy PLATONIC

Triggers - Swearing, mentions of scary stuff

Note - I went to a haunted house a year or two back, and there were like 3 of them at the place, I got inspiration from that experience for the scary bits, now on to the fic <3

“AAAAAHHHH SHIT!” Tommy screamed as hands were grabbing at him on both sides of the small tunnel. Tubbo and Ranboo were right behind him, though appearing not as openly scared as Tommy was. Of course they knew that the actors were allowed to touch you like that, but of course they had regulations for that. That was the first time Tommy’s soul left his body, in the first haunted house of the night.

“AAAAHHHH FUCK!” Tommy jumped back as a zombie in a lab coat jumped out at them, not actually touching them. Tubbo and Ranboo jumped and yelled a little bit in surprise, but not as loud as Tommy. Of course they knew Tommy wasn’t the best with scary things, especially if it’s in real life. But when they got home, they would figure out a way to make sure Tommy can still sleep at night. That was the second time Tommy’s soul left his body, as they exited the second haunted house.

“AAAAAAHHHHH NONONONONONONO!” Tommy screamed as the 3 of them ran out of the final haunted house. Two creepy clowns chased after them and then stopped as they made it out. That was by far the scariest part of the whole trip, as Tommy’s soul left his body for the 3rd and final time that night. “Tommy, are you alright?” Ranboo questioned, gently, afraid if he asked even a little bit too harsh, he might scare him away. Tommy shakily nodded, “Y-yeah, you know me, I’m fine.” Tubbo tilted his head, “Tommy…you know if you didn’t want to, we didn’t have to go through all of them…and if you didn’t wanna go into any of them, that would’ve been okay too! You know we would rather do something all 3 of us together, and it matters to us that you’re okay,” he said, sincerely, meaning every word of it.

If Tommy wasn’t comfortable doing a haunted house, they’d find something else to do that they’d all enjoy. “Tommy nodded again, “I know, but I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t want to, you know I’m not the best with scary stuff, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want anything to do with scary stuff.” Tubbo and Ranboo nodded, and then Ranboo spoke first, “Are you sure you’re okay though?” Tommy nodded, “Yeah, let’s just go home and watch a movie or something.” And so the trio went home and put on Nightmare Before Christmas, as Ranboo and Tubbo didn’t want Tommy to get scared anymore by a spooky movie. Besides, they all liked this movie anyways. Tommy was currently sandwiched in the middle of Ranboo and Tubbo. He was leaning on Ranboo while Tubbo was leaning on Tommy.

Tubbo was mindlessly playing with Tommy’s hands, tracing at his palms. Tubbo then noticed Tommy’s fingers twitching every so often, and looked up at Tommy to see a repressed smile on his face. Tubbo realized that he was unintentionally tickling him, and smiled, moving one of his hands to poke Ranboo’s arm. The man in question looked over to see Tubbo giving him a look he knew all to well. Ranboo smiled and tightened his hold on Tommy, while slowly starting to trace up and down his sides. Tommy stiffened and shook with repressed giggles, “T-Tubbo, Rahanboo, that tihickles…” Ranboo and Tubbo smiled, and Tubbo spoke, “Thanks for letting us know, bossman!”

Tubbo’s fingers found his hips and started pinching lightly at them, while Ranboo pinched at Tommy’s ribs. Tommy squealed, bursting into happy giggles, “Wahahahait! Nohohoho thahahat’s wohohohorse!” Ranboo mentally awed at the giggles he produced, “Really? Does this make it better?” Ranboo’s fingers moved to spider around Tommy’s stomach while Tubbo reached back to pinch at his knees, causing a shriek to erupt from Tommy’s throat, and for him to burst into loud, squeaky laughter, “NONONOHOHOHO THAHAHAT’S WOHOHOHORSE! NOHOHOT THEHEHERE- TUHUHUHUBBOHOHOHO!”

Tommy shrieked as Tubbo’s fingers started scratching at the backs of Tommy’s knees. Tubbo grinned, “Yes, bossman? What’s up?” Tubbo acted oblivious to the situation, yet continued to swirl his fingers at the backs of Tommy’s knees. Ranboo chuckled, blowing a short raspberry on the back of Tommy’s neck, causing a squeal to emerge from Tommy, “RAHAHAHAN! NOHOHOHO RAHAHASPBEHEHERRIHIHIES!” “No raspberries? But you love raspberries,” Ranboo teased, while Tubbo blew a short raspberry on Tommy’s tummy. “TUHUHUHUBS?! NOHOHOT YOHOHOU TOHOHOO!”

They realized that Tommy was quickly reaching his limit, and decided to do one big finale. Tubbo blew a long raspberry on Tommy’s stomach, shaking his head to spread the vibrations, while Ranboo blew many tiny raspberries on Tommy’s neck. Tommy’s laughter went silent for a few seconds, and then came back in full force, “OHOHOKAHAHAY EHEHENOHOHOHOUGH! PLEHEHESE IHIHIT’S SOHOHO BAHAHAD!” Tubbo and Ranboo instantly stopped as soon as they heard ‘enough’ leave Tommy’s mouth. They quickly rubbed the ghost tickles away, pulling Tommy into a big cuddle pile. Tommy yawned and closed his eyes, letting out a quiet, “Thanks…” and then falling asleep. The beeduo smiled, “Anytime, Tommy.”

[witchyfoxelf]

[movie review] teenage mutant ninja turtles (2014)

what's funny is we actually kinda knew exactly what we were getting into with this one, but even after thoroughly managing expectations whenever you see it the first time it’s still kinda… wow?

the hilarious part is this could have been worse, but a few details got leaked during various parts of production and pre-production that caused a fan outcry sizable enough to affect the movie's word of mouth and consequently force a course correction. there was one awful idea for shredder that i literally forgot about that i'll come back to later, and also apparently originally the turtles were going to be aliens because sure why not.

watching this with two of my partners who didn't see it at the time was quite the experience, because i half-remembered it well enough to usually know what was coming enough to be like "omg you aren't gonna believe this shit," but at one point one of them asked me if that one white guy was going to be shredder and i genuinely did not remember? like, that's the kind of thing you really should probably remember, right? but this movie’s plot and villains are so thoroughly disposable that literally all i could come up with on the spot was "uhhh i know there's some stuff about them but i kinda don't remember???"

if you were wondering, it turns out that he was originally gonna be the shredder but a lot of people understandably got pretty pissed by the idea of some random white guy being shredder so they introduced some random japanese guy instead and gave him almost no dialogue and barely edited around the fact the the random white guy was clearly supposed to be shredder but it also kinda didn't affect anything because nothing in this movie matters or makes sense so yeah, turns out… that. that's the answer for that one.

this movie is basically exactly the movie you thought you'd get when you heard michael bay was going to be producing the ninja turtles reboot but like slightly not as bad as you were probably expecting? like, literally the first joke most people probably made was, "so, what, they're gonna get like megan fox to play april o’neil?" and then that happened??? which like, for the record i actually like megan fox, i do not love megan fox working in a movie where she's absolutely going to be objectified into oblivion.

i mean, it's not as bad as transformers, but there is absolutely a lingering shot of a male character looking at her ass followed by a lingering shot of said ass, so like. let's not hand out an a for effort too rashly?

that's kind of everything about this movie. like, my extremely abbreviated review of it would be, "you know the first two transformers movies? it's like that, but not quite as bad."

the visual language of this movie is just 100% transformers. the color scheme and overall look is largely the same. a lot of the camera movements are absolutely transformers, but like… toned down? it's diet transformers. there's a lot of unnecessary camera motion, but crucially not in literally every shot. a lot of the most important fight scenes are where this movie really suffers, and where i think i detect quite a bit of hands-on producing from bay. the fight between the turtles and shredder at the end isn't the worst but it's also just all kinds of wrong for these characters. but like, more in a "we're overreacting to the mcu" sort of way than a "this is what michael wants" kind of way, if you'll allow me to read between the lines.

it's the fight between splinter and shredder near the movie's midpoint that's really 100% a transformers action scene. part of the problem is their shredder design is just awful, and this is where it's fully revealed, and they’re so proud of it, but it’s… just… no? it’s so weird and shiny and visually offputting, and it doesn’t really look like it’s actually physically there? and the accompanying fights involving the turtles and foot soldiers are all that fast/blurry/dark shit where you can’t see shit. there are a few other action scenes with the turtles that suffer from this, too, and it’s just so antifun. it is an absolute clinic in how to make action movies boring to watch.

it’s funny, there was so much online discourse about the turtles’ design before the movie came out. and like… yeah, they’re pretty bad designs. i don’t get why you would have them be so big and so scary. and not even like… sexy scary, just… kinda offputting, y’know? but the absolute fucking worst designs were saved for shredder and splinter. i already talked about shredder, but why the ever loving fuck does splinter look the way he does??? he’s just… he’s just butt ugly. why???

okay. deep breath.

this movie’s main saving grace is that there’s this like… i want to say 15-minute period of the movie from when raph rescues the other turtles until the elevator scene just before their final boss battle with shredder where they like… forgot they weren’t actually making a ninja turtles movie? and it’s just… it’s just this genuinely fun chase scene where you can tell what’s going on the whole time and everything makes sense, followed by some really great comedic character beats as the exhausted turtles prepare themselves for the even tougher challenge ahead, and in spite of everything you actually feel like you’re watching a ninja turtles movie for a minute?

i really wish more of the movie would have been like that, but at least we got that.

d-rank

[onlyfreds]

I Choose You | F.W.

Title: I Choose You

Requested: Yes/No

Summary: At the end of the day, Fred is always the one Y/N chooses.

A/N: Inspired by the song “I Choose” from the movie: “Willoughby”

Stuck in my ways Like old-fashioned days But all the roads led me to you

Magic. I always thought that magic just consisted of clever tricks and didn’t really exist. I always thought that magic were just illusions used to entertain little kids. That was what I always thought, until I got my Hogwarts letter. Until I learned that magic was real. Until I hopped onto the Hogwarts express, ready to begin my journey as a witch.

All roads lead to somewhere. And this one led me to a certain 6’3 ginger who had a twin named George. This road had led me to my best friend, Fred Weasley, this road had led me to the boy I fell for, hard.

“You’re gorgeous.” That was Fred’s first words to me.

--

“Gryffindor!” The sorting hat yelled as it was placed on my head. I happily skipped towards the scarlet and gold table, where my new friends were waiting for me. “Welcome to the best house in Hogwarts.” The twins said in unison as I took a seat next to them.

Everyday was an adventure, pulling pranks and causing mischief and trouble here and there. And every day, I continued to fall in love with the older twin.

The house that you live in don't make it a home But feeling lonely don't mean you're alone People in life, they will come and they'll leave But if I had a choice I know where I would be

Ever since I started attending Hogwarts, I would spend every holiday at the Burrow. It was like a second home to me. Molly had instantly treated me like her daughter the moment I stepped foot inside the house. It even got to the point that Fred would whine that he wanted his “partner in crime” back.

Every holiday at the Burrow was special. I never felt lonely, mostly because my own family didn’t like the idea of me being a witch. But the most special holiday I had was during our third year.

I was watching the stars as snow fell slowly onto the ground.

“Enjoying the view darling?” The butterflies appeared in my stomach as I turned and saw Fred standing by the doorway.

“What’s there not to enjoy about the view?” I asked as I patted the space next to me, inviting him to sit down.

“It’s just, the whole family’s inside and your out here.” He said as he placed his arms around my shoulder, pulling me closer to him.

“But I can bet that there’s something better than that view.” He said with a sheepish grin.

I chuckled, “And what is that?”

“Look up.” He simply stated.

I diverted my gaze up to the night sky, fireworks painting the sky. Soon, it spelled out the words: I love you Y/N; Will you be my girlfriend?

I turned to Fred, who had a hopeful look in his eyes, “Be my girlfriend?” He asked.

Without hesitation, I cupped his cheeks and pulled him into a kiss. In the background, I could hear the whole Weasley household cheering.

“How’s that for an answer?” I asked as we pulled apart.

He smirked, “Oh, sorry. I didn’t get your answer. Can we try it again?”

I giggled as he pulled me in for another kiss.

Now I found the strength To make a change And look at the magic I found No matter the name

Umbridge had come and was making everyday miserable with her foolish educational decrees that she claims is for the better future of Hogwarts. A load of dragon dung if you ask me.

Harry then formed the D.A., which for me is the highlight of the school year. We were fighting for something. We were fighting for our school; we were learning to fight and defend ourselves. We were learning to fight against Voldemort.

“Expecto Patronum!” The twins said in unison, identical magpie patronuses flying out of their wands.

I thought of the day Fred asked me to be his girlfriend, the day we attended the Yule ball together, every date, every memory. I let the happiness fill me up.

“Expecto Patronum!” I casted, watching in awe as a cat flew out of my wand, running around, chasing the magpies the twins produced.

“What did you think about?” Fred asked, wrapping his arms around me.

I smiled, “You.”

The room then started to shake, Fred his arm around me protectively, the both instinctively raising our wands. The room shook again, a small hole appearing in the wall.

“Bombarda Maxima” A familiar voice said.

“It’s Umbridge.” I said, all of us started to run as the wall exploded.

The twins and I ran to one of the secret passageways that led to the common room. We were one of the first ones back, collapsing on the couch from exhaustion.

Ron came in dragging Hermione along with him. The rest of the Gryffindors started to file in. Except for one, Harry.

I finally found where I feel I belong And I know you'll be there with wide open arms

Through the lows and the highs, I will stay by your side There's no need for goodbyes, now I'm seeing the light

When the sky turns to grey and there's nothing to say At the end of the day, I choose you

“George and I are leaving tomorrow.” Fred said as he paced the dorm.

“The big escape.” I said with a small smile.

Fred looked at me, I could see the tears forming in his eyes, “I’m breaking up with you.”

I felt like someone had just stabbed a dagger into my chest, “What?”

He tried to hold back the tears but he couldn’t, “I’m breaking up with you.” He repeated as his voice cracked.

I could feel the tears making its way from my eyes, “Why?”

He sat down on the floor, “Because I am dropping out of school to follow another one of my stupid ideas. I’m dropping out of school to start a business that I have no assurance that will succeed. And if everything goes downhill, I’ll disappoint everyone, Harry, Mum, George and most especially you. Out of all the people in the world, you are the one I’d hate to disappoint the most. Then when that happens, you’ll leave me. Then I’ll be left with nothing. So, it’s better to end things now instead of ending when the pain hurts more.” He sobbed.

I pulled him into a hug, trying to wipe his tears as mine continued to fall.

“That won’t happen Fred.” I said, gently rubbing his back, “No matter what happens, I’ll stay by your side, through the lows and the highs. If the ship sinks, then I’m going down with you. Where you go, I go. Because at the end of the day Freddie, I choose you.”

He hugged me tightly, as if scared that I would evaporate any minute. “Thank you.” He muttered.

I cupped his face in my hands, “Besides, I’m coming with you.”

“What?” He asked.

I chuckled, “George and I were supposed to surprise you tomorrow. But I guess things don’t always go as planned.”

“Really? You’d rather come with us than finish your education.” He said with a small smile.

I nodded, “Yeah. It’s not like I’m learning anything with the pink toad around. Like I said Freddie, I’ll always choose you. And if I belong anywhere, it’s with you.”

Through the lows and the highs I will stay by your side There's no need for goodbyes, now I'm seeing the light When the sky turns to grey and there's nothing to say At the end of the day, I choose you

“You okay Freddie?” George asked as the three of us watched the teachers place protective enchantments on the school.

“Yeah, how about you?” Fred asked, turning to his brother.

“I’m fine.” George answered.

Fred turned to me, “How about you princess?”

“Good.” I replied.

Fred turned me to face him, “If ever I don’t make it. You should move on, okay? Fall in love again. Have a family. I’ll always be waiting for you.”

I shook my head, kissing him, “I choose you. So, it’s either we survive this together or we don’t at all.”

“But darling- “He tried to reason before I interrupted him.

“There’s no need for goodbyes, now I’m seeing the light.” I squeezed his hand, “It doesn’t matter what happens. As long as we’re together.”

--

“You’re joking Perce! You’re actually joking.” But the rest of Fred’s words fell into the background as my instincts told me that something bad would happen.

I rushed to Fred, pushing him out of the way as the wall exploded. It’s like everything had gone in slow motion.

“I love you.” I whispered into his ear, if I was going to die. Then I would want that to be my last words. If he was going to die, no, I can’t think that.

I landed on top of him, my arms wrapped around his torso, “Freddie?” I immediately said.

“Yes princess?” He answered, with his signature smirk.

I hugged him as I breathed a sigh of relief and began sobbing, “You’re alive.” I said.

He hugged me tighter, running his hand through, “Thank you for saving me.” He whispered.

I looked up and crashed our lips together, “I told you either we survive together, or we don’t at all.”

At the end of the day, I choose you

“Do you, Y/N L/N, take Fred Weasley as your lawfully wedded husband?” The minister asked.

I smiled, “I do.”

“And with the power invested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Fred smiled, as he pulled me closer to him.

During the reception, I couldn’t stop glancing down at the rings on our hands, it had the words I choose you engraved.

“I love you, Mrs. Weasley.” He whispered as the festivities continued.

I smiled at him, “I love you too, Mr. Weasley.”

I choose you

[kaistarus]

BitterSweet

Pairing: Itadori YuujiXReader

Words: 2.4K

Summary: How Yuuji makes his way into your life with brights smiles and shitty coffees

A/N: just in time for his b-day :3 i’ve loved this boi since before i even started jjk, so i’m glad I got to finally write for him lol

Masterlist

Bitter.

Bitter-with a hint of vanilla-was what you associated with Itadori Yuuji. His beaming smile at your first tutoring session forever connected with the pungent coffee he offered you.

You stared at the cup skeptically, “what is that?”

“Coffee?” Yuuji answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I thought every college student liked coffee.”

He wasn’t wrong, “but why did you get it?”

“Because you got up so early to help me,” Yuuji’s smile widened as he waved the drink around.

“Well I’m scheduled, so I would have been here whether you signed up or not.” You pointed out, glancing at the clock nearby that read too-early-in-the-morning and gestured for him to hand it over. He looked so pleased with himself that you were sure if he was a dog his tail would be going wild.

That was the only explanation you had for why you didn’t tell Yuuji it was the worst thing you’d ever tasted, hiding your full body cringes when he looked up after digging through his backpack.

“So, what are we doing first?” He asked excitedly, holding a creased notebook with uneven pages and a packed folder with papers hanging out. You stared at it wearily, but unfortunately he was far from the worst case scenario-a folder was huge compared to some you’d run into.

“I guess just give me your last exam and we’ll work from there.”

Yuuji chuckled awkwardly, fingering through the mass of papers in his folder before producing a packet marked heavily in red ink. You sighed at the single digit number at the top with a frowny face beside it.

Looked like you and Itadori Yuuji were going to be spending a lot of time together.

**************

“You’re overthinking it, Yuuji.” You rubbed your temples having spent the last thirty minutes working through the same problem with no success. You were beginning to lose all hope.

“But it doesn’t make any sense,” he groaned, leaning back in his seat. “I’m supposed to figure out the probability of what movies were action movies, but how was she able to watch eighty movies in one week?”

“That isn’t the question.”

“It isn’t possible though!” He jabbed his eraser at the paper. “Did she sleep? I bet this Melissa chick fast forwarded or skipped.”

“Yuuji…”

“Can you go a full week without sleep? If she slept through some, are they part of the eighty?” He gripped his pink locks in frustration. “How do I know which she slept through? Is there a timeline?”

You deadpanned as he scanned the page stressfully like it was holding him hostage with its contents, “I don’t think they provide a timeline, no.”

“Sorry,” Yuuji sighed defeated, slouching forward to rest his chin on the library’s table. “I swear I’m trying.”

You leaned against your palm, eyes softening as he glared at the homework sheet under him. “Don’t apologize,” you slid the sheet from under his chin. “You’re my favorite session after all.”

“I am?” He perked up.

You rolled your eyes while circling a segment of the first word problem. “You can just make up wild backstories for each person. Melissa doesn’t have to sleep and can absorb movies abnormally fast or something.”

Yuuji blinked several times as his lips curved into a smile. “What about the guy who owns over four-hundred chickens?”

You forced down your own smile and shrugged, “he’s just lonely.”

Yuuji laughed, continuing down the page while spewing out ridiculous stories for the unfortunate names in the Stats problems. Your heart beat firm in your chest at how excited he was now while scanning the page. The ticking clock above you felt like a curse the closer it got to the end of your session.

You guessed you didn’t hate the mornings anymore if they were with him.

*************************

You tapped your pencil’s eraser impatiently on the booth's table. The smell of brewing dark roast drifting through the small cafe accompanied by the combined noises of workers preparing early risers beverages kept you from dozing off where you sat. Finally, after what felt like forever-probably a few minutes-Yuuji slid into the booth across from you and placed a mug in front of you.

“I can buy my own coffee, Yuuji.” You took the mug wearily, eyes darting around the near empty cafe you’d decided to meet at this week to ‘spice things up’ in his words. “People might get the wrong idea.”

“I didn’t think you cared about that stuff,” he said with a teasing smile that you returned with a half-assed glare. “It’s my payment for making me smarter.”

“I already get paid,” you pouted at the drink in your hands. “And you’re already smart. I just help you understand it.”

He didn’t respond and you glanced over, confused at his slack jaw expression.

“Oh,” he started shuffling through his backpack and you swore his cheeks were dusted pink. “Yeah, that-uh-makes sense.”

“Right,” you raised a brow at the weird response, but decided it wasn’t worth pursuing. There wasn’t enough time in the world to question every random thing Yuuji did.

 “What’s on the schedule today boss?”

“Your exam’s tomorrow,” you said, pulling some sheets from your own backpack. “I printed your practice exam since I’m guessing you didn’t know it existed.”

“Hey,” he pouted. “I didn’t, but still...”

You snorted, sliding the packet across the table. “Just do the ones you can and I’ll help with the rest.”

He saluted you, unnecessarily scribbling his name across the top before getting to work-his tongue poking out adorably while his eyes scanned the words intensely. You felt your chest filling with an unfamiliar warmth as you watched him work and your hand drifted subconsciously toward the mug next to you.

You coughed, unprepared for the harsh flavor, only wiping the grimace off your face when Yuuji peered upward with an innocent head tilt. Your heart squeezed when you locked eyes too long with his dark hazel before a soft smile filtered onto his lips. You quickly dropped your stare, hoping that if you avoided looking at him you could avoid the weird feeling emotion rolling in your stomach as well.

***************

You slouched up the library's stairwell, pushing through the second story’s double doors that led to your usual reserved tutoring table. The school really needed to push back your start time-seven in the morning was way too early for any college student to effectively teach or learn anything. The only person ridiculous enough to continuously sign-up for this time was-

You gripped your backpack straps as strong arms wrapped themselves around your midsection, picking you off the ground without warning. An unwanted frightened squeal left your lips before you recognized Yuuji’s laughter behind you and you relaxed as much as you could with him spinning you around in a library half-full of people.

“What are you doing?” You glared at him over your shoulder, cheeks warm from embarrassment at the scene he was causing.

“I got a C!”

You blinked several times before prying his arms off you, “are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he slid his backpack off, digging around before offering you a crumpled up packet with a seventy-four and a smiley written on top. You stared at it with a growing smile and without thinking too much you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Yuuji, this is amazing!”

“I know,” he laughed, encircling your waist awkwardly given your backpack. “My roommate didn’t believe me. She’s doing my dishes for a week thanks to you.”

You weren’t sure you felt good about that after seeing his level of disorganization, but you smiled back anyway. “I’m so proud of you.”

Which was true. Your chest was swollen near bursting with pride for him and he’d only gotten a C. You told yourself it was because of your own skills as a tutor, but had you ever been this excited for someone?

“Hey, we should celebrate.” Yuuji stuffed the exam back into his bag. “Do you wanna-”

“Can you guys quiet down?” a guy with four crushed energy drink cans and food wrappers laying haphazardly around him asked. “I can’t focus and I just wanna go home, dude.”

“Sorry,” you whispered as warmth crept up your neck, turning Yuuji toward the exit as he stared at the guy in amazement. “We’ll leave you alone.”

“How long have you been here?” Yuuji asked in awe.

“Twenty-five… No, maybe eight...” The guy narrowed his eyes at the clock. “Time’s an illusion man.”

Yuuji nodded, impressed, shooting the guy a thumbs up as you pushed him toward the doors. Once in the stairwell you shot him a bright smile, “celebrate?”

He nodded excitedly. “We can get coffee!”

You turned away quickly to cover your panic, “or maybe anything else?”

Yuuji hummed, “I guess change can be nice.”

Your heart did a bizarre skip at the soft look in his eyes and you hurriedly started down the stairs without him. You spent more time that morning brushing off each reaction to Yuuji than enjoying your time with him. When everything was done you started thinking that you were having a hard time kidding even yourself.

**************

You and Yuuji had been working in silence for the past twenty minutes-the longest he’d gone without needing help since he’d signed up for tutoring. It was a great sign that for some reason had your stomach knotting uncomfortably.

“You’re doing really good,” you complimented, admiring the delighted smile he gave you.

“Yeah, I used what you said about note taking for lecture.” He showed you his notes that were beyond chaotic, but apparently worked for him. “I actually understand what’s going on now.”

“That’s great,” you looked down at your Chem problems and attempted to keep your tone light. “You probably won’t need tutoring soon if this-.”

You heard his pencil snap and looked up to find him staring holes through his paper. He seemed tense as he pressed his pencil roughly against the notebook and you wondered what word problem would’ve caused that reaction.

“Are you stuck? Do you want me to-”

“I like you.”

You paused mid-reach for his textbook and locked eyes with him, his cheeks flaring up a dark pink. You opened and closed your mouth several times before mumbling out a weak, “what?”

“And I don’t want you to tutor me,” he looked frustrated with himself when you tilted your head at his contradictory statements. “I mean, I do, but not always. I just want to spend time with you and not talk about Stats because I hate Stats, but I really like you.”

That weird feeling was back. The one where your chest felt tight and your heart was beating too quickly and your stomach sort of felt like you might throw up, but all in a good way and that made everything weirder. It was a lot and not enough and that made you nervous.

“I don’t know, Yuuji.” You lied.

“That’s okay,” he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No pressure. I just sprung it on you, so I don’t blame you.”

You nodded, watching him dig around his bag for a second pencil while grumbling about organizing that you knew would never happen. Your heart ached in your chest as you watched him continue working casually, playing off whatever happened.

...but you weren’t sure you could do the same.

************

This was a terrible idea.

You swung your legs, perched atop a railing across from a building that Yuuji was currently taking his midterm. It didn’t matter how you got that information-accessing his schedule with the few perks your job gave you-all that mattered was you had five minutes to figure out what you were going to say to him.

This wouldn’t even be an issue if he hadn’t skipped tutoring a few days ago. You weren’t sure if he thought you hated him or if he was regretting confessing to you, but either way you needed to talk to him before your window closed.

If only any of the speeches you could think of weren’t absolutely humiliating. Three minutes now? That should be enough time for you to at least get the beginning-

“(Y/N)?”

Your head whipped to the side so fast you're sure you got whiplash, dumbfounded that Yuuji was standing there with his head cocked to the side.

“You finished early,” you said, face warming at his growing confusion. “Not that I would know that.”

“Right.” He gave you a once-over. “Whatcha doing here?”

“Uh,” your nose crinkled while searching for a reasonable excuse. You sighed when you came up empty. “You skipped tutoring.”

Yuuji’s eyebrow rose and he waved his hands around. “I accidentally slept through it.” Then you noticed the gears started turning in his head and you began shrinking in on yourself. “You came here because I skipped a lesson?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you were going to keep skipping,” you avoided his eyes, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “It’s a bad habit.”

He knew you were full of shit. You could tell by the way he was forcing down a smirk when you stared at your feet. This would obviously be going so much better if you had those three minutes to prepare.

“Thanks for checking in,” he smiled, fishing around in his pocket and holding out his phone. “We should probably exchange numbers so you don’t have to go through all this trouble next time.”

You eyed the phone and rolled your eyes, “makes sense.”

He looked overjoyed when you took it from his hands. Your heart felt like it would pound out of your rib cage while he watched you create your contact, your fingers shaking slightly under the pressure.

“As an apology, I should probably take you to get food too.”

You paused, looking up at his hopeful gaze before nodding shyly. “That seems fair.”

The smile that overtook his face was probably the largest you’d ever seen and your heart nearly exploded when he grabbed your hand, pulling you away from the building. You probably should have seen this coming the moment you began looking forward to your morning shifts with him. As he dragged you down the street you found yourself not caring where he took you-you knew you’d be happy as long as he was with you.

[dustedmagazine]

Music for Films, Vol. II: Chick Habit

For good and for ill, Quentin Tarantino’s movies have been strongly associated with postmodern pop culture — particularly by folks whose reactions to the word “postmodern” tend toward pursed lips and school-marmishly wagged fingers. There for a while, reading David Denby on Tarantino was similar to reading Michiko Kakutani on Thomas Pynchon: almost always the same review, the same complaints about characters lacking “psychological depth,” the same handwringing over an ostensible moral insipidness. Truth be told, Tarantino’s pranksome delight with flashy surfaces and stylistic flourishes that are ends in themselves gives tentative credence to some of the caviling. Critics have raised related concerns over the superficiality of Tarantino’s tendency toward stunt casting, especially his resurrections of aging actors relegated to the film industry’s commercial margins: John Travolta, Pam Grier, Robert Forster, David Carradine, Darryl Hannah, Don Johnson and so on. There might be a measure of cynicism in the accompanying cinematic nudging and winking, but it’s also the case that a number of the performances have been terrific.

The writer-director brings a similar sensibility to his sound-tracking choices, demonstrating the cooler-than-thou, deep-catalog knowledge of an obsessive crate-digger. Tarantino thematized that knowledge in his break-through feature, Reservoir Dogs (1992). Throughout the film, the characters tune in to Steven Wright deadpanning as the deejay of “K-Billy’s Super Sounds of the Seventies”; like the characters, the viewer transforms into a listener, treated to such fare as the George Baker Selection’s “Little Green Bag” (1970) and Harry Nilsson’s “Coconut” (1971). As with the above-mentioned actors, Tarantino has sifted pop culture’s castoffs and detritus, unearthing songs and delivering experiences of renewed value — and thereby proving the keenness of his instincts and aesthetic wit. “Listen to (or look at) this!” he seems to say, with his cockeyed, faux-incredulous grin. “Can you believe you were just going to throw this out?” And mostly, it works. If the Blue Swede’s “Hooked on a Feeling” (1974) has become a sort of semi-ironized accompaniment to hipsterish good times, that resonance has a lot more to do with Tim Roth, Harvey Keitel and Co. cruising L.A. in a hulking American sedan than with the Disney Co.’s Guardians of the Galaxy (2014).

In Death Proof (2007), Tarantino’s seventh film and unaccountably his least favorite, soundtrack and screen are both full to bursting with the flotsam and jetsam of “entertainment” conceived as an industry. 

In just the opening minutes, we see outmoded moviehouse announcements, complete with cigarette-burn cue dots; big posters of Brigitte Bardot from Les Bijoutiers du claire de lune (1958) and of Ralph Nelson’s Soldier Blue (1970) bedecking the apartment of Jungle Julia (Sydney Tamiia Poitier); the tee shirt worn by Shanna (Jordan Ladd), which bears the image of Tura Satana; and strutting under all of it are the brassy cadences of Jack Nitzsche’s “The Last Race,” taken from his soundtrack for the teensploitation flick Village of the Giants (1965). Bibs and bobs, bits and pieces of low- and middle-brow cinema are cut up and reconstructed into a fulsome swirl of signs. And there’s an unpleasant edge to it; the cuts are echoed by the action of the camera, which has been busily cleaving the bodies of the women on screen into fragments and parts. First the feet of Arlene (Vanessa Ferlito), propped up on a dashboard; then Julia, all ass and gams; then Arlene’s lower half again, chopped into slices by the stairs she dashes up (“I gotta take the world’s biggest fucking piss!”) and by the close-up that settles on her belly and pelvis, her hand shoved awkwardly into her crotch. 

As often happens in Tarantino’s movies, furiously busy meta-discursive play collapses the images’ problematic content under multiple levels of reference and pastiche. The film is one half of Grindhouse (2007), Tarantino’s collaboration with his buddy Robert Rodriguez, an old-fashioned double-feature comprising the men’s love letters to the exploitation cinema of the 1960s and 1970s. In those thousands of movies — mondo, beach-cutie, nudie-cutie, women in prison, early slasher, rape-revenge, biker gang, chop-socky, Spaghetti Western and muscle-car-worship flicks (and we could add more subgenres to the list) — symbolic violence inflicted on women’s bodies was de rigueur, and frequently the principal draw. Tarantino shot Death Proof himself, so he is (more than usually) directly responsible for all the framing and focusing — and he’s far too canny a filmmaker not to know precisely what he’s doing with and to those bodies. The excessive, camera-mediated gashing and trimming is a knowing, perhaps deprecating nod to all that previous, gratuitous T&A. His sound-tracking choice of “The Last Race” metaphorically underscores the point: in Bert I. Gordon’s Village of the Giants, bikini-clad teens find and consume an experimental growth serum, which causes them to expand to massive proportions. Really big boobs, actual acres of ass. Get it?

Of course, all the implied japing and judging is deeply embedded in the film’s matrix of esoteric references and fleeting allusions. You’d have to be very well versed in the history of exploitation cinema to pick up on the indirect homage to Gordon’s goofy movie. But as in Reservoir Dogs, Tarantino doesn’t just gesture, he dramatizes, folding an authoritative geekdom into the action of Death Proof. In the set-up to Death Proof’s notorious car crash scene, Julia is on the phone, instructing one of her fellow deejays to play “Hold Tight!” (1966) by Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich. Don’t recognize the names? “For your information,” Julia snorts, Pete Townsend briefly considered abandoning the Who, and he thought about joining the now-obscure beat band, to make it “Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick, Tich & Pete. And if you ask me, he should have.”

It’s among the most gruesomely violent sequences in Tarantino’s films (which do not run short on graphic bloodshed), and Julia receives its most spectacular punishment. Those legs and that rump, upon which the camera has lavished so much attention, are torn apart. Her right leg flips, flies and slaps the pavement, a hunk of suddenly flaccid meat. Again, Tarantino proves himself an adept arranger of image, sign and significance. Want to accuse him of fetishizing Julia’s legs? He’ll materialize the move, reducing the limb to a manipulable fragment, and he’ll invest the moment with all of the intrinsic violence of the fetish. He’ll even do you one better — he’ll make that violence visible. Want to watch? You better buckle up and hold tight. 

Hold on a second. “Hold Tight”? The soundtrack has passed over from intertextual in-joke to cruel punchline. It doesn’t help that the song is so much fun, and that it’s fun watching the girls groove along to it, just before Stuntman Mike (Kurt Russell) obliterates them, again and again and again. The awful insistence of the repetition is another set-up, establishing the film’s narrative logic: the repeated pattern and libidinal charge-and-release of Stuntman Mike’s vehicular predations. It is, indeed, “a sex thing,” as Sheriff Earl McGraw (Michael Parks) informs us in his cartoonish, redneck lawman’s drawl. Soon the sexually charged repetitions pile up: see Abernathy’s (Rosario Dawson) feet hanging out of Kim’s (Tracie Thom) 1972 Mustang, in a visual echo of Arlene’s, and of Julia’s. Then listen to Lee (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) belt out some of Smith’s cover of “Baby It’s You” (1969), which we most recently heard 44 minutes before, as Julia danced ecstatically by the Texas Chili Bar’s jukebox. Then watch Abernathy as she sees Stuntman Mike’s tricked-out ’71 Nova, a vibrating hunk of metallic machismo — just like Arlene saw it, idling menacingly back in Austin, with another snatch of “Baby It’s You” wisping through that moment’s portent. 

For a certain kind of viewer, the Nova’s low-slung, growling charms are hard to resist, as is the sleazy snarl of Willy DeVille’s “It’s So Easy” (1980; and we might note that Jack Nitzsche produced a couple of Mink DeVille’s early records, connecting another couple strands in the web) on the Nova’s car stereo. Those prospective pleasures raise the question of just who the film is for. That may seem obvious: the same folks — dudes, mostly — who find pleasure in exploitation movies like Vanishing Point (1971), Satan’s Sadists (1969) or The Big Doll House (1971). But there are a few other things to account for, like how Death Proof repeatedly passes the Bechdel Test, and how long those scenes of conversation among women go on, and on. Most notable is the eight-minute diner scene, a single take featuring Abernathy, Kim, Lee and Zoë (Zoë Bell, doing a cinematic rendition of her fabulous self, an instance of stunt casting that literalizes the “stunt” part). Among other things, the women discuss their careers in film, the merits of gun ownership and Kim and Zoë’s love of (you guessed it) car chase movies like Vanishing Point. One could read that as a liberatory move, a suggestion that cinema of all kinds is open to all comers. All that’s required is a willingness to watch. But watching the diner scene becomes increasing claustrophobic. The camera circles the women’s table incessantly, and on the periphery of the shot, sitting at the diner’s counter, is Stuntman Mike. The circling becomes predatory, the threat seems pervasive. 

If you’ve seen the film, you know how that plays out: Zoë and Kim play “ship’s mast” on a white 1970 Dodge Challenger (the Vanishing Point car); Stuntman Mike shows up and terrorizes them mercilessly; but then Abernathy, Zoë and Kim chase him down and beat the living shit out of him, likely fatally. In another sharply conceived cinematic maneuver, Tarantino executes a climactic sequence that inverts the diner scene: the women surround Stuntman Mike, abject and pleading, and punch and kick him as he bounces from one of them to another. The camera zips from vantage to vantage within the circle, deliriously tracking the action. All the jump cuts intensify the violence, and they provide another contrast to the diner’s scene’s silky, unbroken shot. The sounds and the impact of the blows verge on slapstick, and our identification with the women makes it a giddily gross good time.

So, an inversion seeks to undo repetition. Certainly, Stuntman Mike’s intent to repeat the car-crash-kill-thrill is undone, and predator becomes prey. But, as is inevitable with Tarantino’s cinema, there are complications, other echoes and patterns to suss out. For instance: as the women stride toward the wrecked Nova, while Stuntman Mike pathetically wails, the camera zooms in on their asses. Bad asses? Nice asses? What’s the right nomenclature? To make sure we can put the shot together with Julia’s first appearance in the film, Abernathy has hiked up her skirt, revealing a lot of leg. Repetition reasserts itself. In an exacerbating circumstance, Harvey Weinstein’s grubby fingerprints are smeared onto the film. Rodriguez’s Troublemaker Studios is credited with production of Grindhouse, but Dimension Films, a Weinstein Brothers company, handled distribution.  

When the film cuts to its end titles, we hear April March’s “Chick Habit” (1995), with its spot-on lyric: “Hang up the chick habit / Hang it up, daddy / Or you’ll never get another fix.” And so on. Even here, where the girl-power vibe feels strongest (cue Abernathy burying a bootheel in Stuntman Mike’s face), there are echoes, patterns. Note how the striding bassline of “Chick Habit” strongly recalls the pulse beating through Nitzsche’s “The Last Race.” Note that March’s song is a cover, of “Laisse tomber les filles,” originally recorded by yé-yé girl France Gall. The song was penned by Serge Gainsbourg, pop provocateur and notorious womanizer. The two collaborated again, releasing “Les Sucettes,” a tune about a teeny-bopper who really likes sucking on lollipops, when Gall was barely 18; the accompanying scandal nearly torpedoed her career. Gall refused to ever sing another song by Gainsbourg, and disavowed her hits.  

Again, that’s all deeply embedded, somewhere in the film’s complicated play of pop irony and double-entendre and the sudden explosions of delight and disgust that intermittently reveal and conceal. Again, you’d have to know your pop history really well to catch up with the complications, and Death Proof moves so fast that there’s always another reference or allusion demanding your attention as the cars growl and the blood spurts. Too many signs to track, too many signals to decipher — that’s the postmodern. But perhaps we have become too glib, assuming that all signs are somehow equivalent. Death Proof insists otherwise. Much has been made of the film’s strange relation to digital filmmaking, of the sort that Rodriguez has made a career out of. Part of Grindhouse’s shtick is its goofball applications of CGI, all the scratches and skips and flaws that the filmmakers lovingly applied. They are digital effects, masquerading as damaged celluloid. Tarantino cut back against that grain, filming as much of the car chase’s maniacal stuntwork in meatspace as he safely could. Purposeful practical filmmaking, for a digitally enhanced cinematic experience, attempting to mimic the ways real film interacts with the physical environment and its manifold histories. Is that clever, or just more cultural clutter?  

Amid all the clutter that crowds the characters onscreen, and their conversations in the film’s field of sound, it can be easy to lose track of the distinctions between appearances and the traces of the real bodies that worked to bring Death Proof to life. Which is why Tarantino’s inclusion of Bell is so crucial. She provides another inversion: Instead of masking her individual presence, doing stunts for other actresses in their clothes and hair (for Lucy Lawless in Xena: Warrior Princess, or for Uma Thurman in Tarantino’s Kill Bill films), Bell is herself, doing what she does best, projecting the technical elements of filmmaking — usually meant to bleed seamlessly into illusion — right onto the surface of the screen. And instead of allowing one group of girls to slip into a repeated pattern, bodies easily exchanged for other bodies, Bell’s presence and its implicit insistence on her particularity (who else can move like she does?) breaks up the superficial logic of cinema’s market for the feminine. She disrupts its chick habit. There’s only one woman like her. 

Jonathan Shaw

[azure-wolf-227]

ML AU: Sleeping Beauty (part 1)

Fourth installment of @princess-of-the-corner and my ML/Disney Princesses AUs; unlike the previous two, this one being inspired by Sleeping Beauty with elements from the Maleficent movies. In this AU Marinette is the one with the Princess role instead of Adrien but Lukadrigaminette is still the endgame.

(This Au will be divided in two posts since it’s very long)

It starts with King Tom and Queen Sabine of the Dupain-Cheng Kingdom hosting a party to celebrate the birth of their daughter, Princess Marinette. They invite King Gabriel, Queen Anarka, and Empress Tomoe, the rulers of the three neighboring kingdoms: the Agreste Kingdom, the Couffaine Kingdom, and the  Tsurugi Kingdom. The whole engagement thing is more about deciding who get engaged to whom. The different Kingdoms are known for different things, especially their exports to other Kingdoms. This is how @princess-of-the-corner put it:

The Dupain-Cheng’s Kingdom has some real great farmland, exporting plenty of produce that would not thrive as well in the other Kingdom’s lands. They’re also known for having some amazing chefs.

The Couffaine Kingdom is right on the water. They pretty much control the seas and any imports from further away countries.

Naturally the Agreste Kingdom is well known for it’s fabrics and fashions.

The Tsurugi Kingdom is likely known for it’s warriors, but also its weapon smithing.

Obvs all Kingdoms can function independently, but the trade between them is helpful to the others. Which is the entire reason why the Royals would like to merge the Kingdoms.

The joke is they think it’d take an extra generation do do so, having the kids be two couples and then the gen after them being arranged. But these four idiots fall in love and it’s like “well that works too…”

The Kwamis are Faes (like in the Snow White AU) and play the roles of Good Faeries who each give a blessing to little Princess Marinette.

Audrey is in the role of Maleficent, (she looks the live-action version with the horns and wings but her wings are yellow and glittery) the evil Fae who crashes the party cause she and throws a tantrum over not being invited. Granted, she’s an evil bitch and everyone knows that so it’s understandable that they didn’t want her there. Also, Audrey normally would not want to go to some mortal princess’s christening even if she were invited; she’s mostly outraged that the other Faes were invited because she views herself as better than them since she’s a descendant of the Fae Ancestor, the Phoenix.

Anyway, Audrey is offended by not being invited so she casts a curse on Marinette stating that she’d die on her 16th birthday after pricking her finger on a spinning wheel. Since Tikki’s the only one who hasn't given Marinette a blessing yet, she uses her power to change the curse so that, instead of dying, Marinette falls into a deep slumber that with the spell broken by True Love’s Kiss.

The Faes being the ones who raise Marinette is less about preventing the curse and more about her general safety because they fear that Audrey will do something else after they changed the curse. Also, Marinette is made aware that she was cursed as a baby and that’s she’s being raised by Faes, though they don’t tell her that she’s a princess. Note: The Kwamis/Faes don’t change Marinette’s name but that’s not really a problem cause she uses “Mari”  as a nickname and, if people learn of her full name, they dismiss it a coincidence.

Meanwhile, Audrey is realizes that the Kwamis changed her curse and quickly finds out where Marinette is. Audrey knows that the Kwamis won’t let her near the princess so she uses her daughter, Chloé, to spy on little Marinette.

Little Chloé at first tries to hide but Marinette quickly realizes she’s there and happily asks her if she wants to play. Chloé is a bit hesitant at first, but gets over it quickly and the two girls become friends. Audrey is pissed cause Chloé was supposed to stay hidden but thinks “this might work better” and let’s Chloé be Marinette’s friend. 

The Kwamis don’t realize that Audrey is using Chloé to spy on Marinette for two reasons: 1) Marinette doesn’t tell them about Chloé, at least not enough for them to realize that she's a real person instead of an imaginary friend; 2) Chloé doesn’t really register as a threat to their senses because a) she doesn’t have wings cause Audrey cut them off (telling her that she’d get the back if she’s exceptional) and b) she’s a child being manipulated by their parent and not actually malicious.

Sabrina is in the role of Diaval, though here she’s a wolf pup that Marinette and Chloé found caught in a hunter’s trap and Chloé then uses her powers to turn her into a human. Chloé tells Audrey that Sabrina is her servant, though this is kind of an act to please her mother (she does care for Sabrina as a friend) and Sabrina goes along with it. Sabrina is aware that Chloé is spying on Marinette for Audrey and of Chloé conflicted feelings over eventually betraying Marinette.

The way that Marinette meets Adrien, Kagami, and Luka is a bit like the meeting in the movie but with more chaos. (@princess-of-the-corner came up with most of this part).

Adrien, Luka and Kagami are all traveling through the forest (separately) and hear someone singing. Despite better judgement, they follow it and find Mari singing and dancing with some animal companions. Chloe is watching nearby and sees the three, but decides they mean her no harm. Sabrina is also there, either as one of the animals dancing with Mari or watching alongside Chloé.

One of the three, probably Adrien, can’t help but step into dancing with Mari. Mari has her eyes closed so she assumes it was just Chloé.

Then Kagami probably is like “excuse you if anyone’s going to dance with the cute girl in the woods it’s gonna be me!” And cuts in with a smirk. Adrien is both confused and attracted.

Right as Kagami is thinking “hm. Maybe I should’ve danced with the blonde boy instead”, Luka swoops in and spins both girls, keeping Mari to himself while spinning Kagami to Adrien. The two of them dance their way back and are all kind of like. Half fighting to dance with Mari and confused by each other.

Eventually Mari thinks “wait a minute. There are too many people here.”. She opens her eyes to see Chloé waving from across the clearing and surrounded by three strangers silently fighting over her.

Mari freaks out and screams (because, if you just realized that three strangers have been dancing with you without you noticing, you’d definitely freak out). She punches someone in the face, most likely Adrien; this somehow makes them more into her.

The three apologize for scaring her, just that she looked so beautiful when dancing it was hard to not join in. And her companion didn’t seem to have any problem with it.

Which yeah Chloé was keeping an eye on them and was ready to throw down and run if they tried some shit but they seem innocent enough.

Anyway, they all introduce themselves, though Adrien, Luka, and Kagami don’t mention that they are royalty.

They all spend some time together, getting to know each other but it’s obvious that all three royals are attracted to Mari who is smitten by them as well which Chloé and Sabrina notice.

Adrien, Kagami, and Luka regrettably have to leave but they all make arrangements to see Mari soon. I’m having Marinette’s 16th birthday be in a bit more than a week so that they have more time to know each other more.

Adrien, Luka, and Kagami arrive to the Dupain-Cheng castle, (though separately) and meet up with their parents: King Gabriel, Queen Anarka, and Empress Tomoe. The three royal families present themselves to King Tom and Queen Sabine, which is when the three teens realize that they’re all royalty. After the introductions are done and the royals mingle, the three talk to each other. They know that they are suppose to court Princess Marinette once she returns but they realize that they all have a crush on the peasant girl Mari. The three agree to court Mari and whomever she choses will back off from courting Princess Marinette.

Meanwhile, Chloe informs her mother about the three strangers who Mari meet in the forest and Audrey realizes that they are the heirs of the other kingdoms; this infuriates her since there’s a chance of one of them breaking the curse on Marinette. She orders Chloé to keep an eye on them and possibly try to sabotage their chances of falling in love with Marinette. 

Chloe doesn’t really want to do that since she cares about Marinette and, over the years, has somewhat realized that her mother is awful. Though she still goes along with it cause she wants Audrey’s approval and to get her wings back. Fortunately, her efforts are a bit lackluster and actually end up bringing the quartet closer.

(End of part 1)

[mybiasisexo]

Bet

Genre: angst | roommate!au | exlovers!au

Pairing: Lay x You

Length: 6.9k

Warning: Unfinished | Language | Adult Themes

Summary: Having a roommate isn’t a strange concept, but when that roommate is your ex? Things can get a bit complicated, especially if said roommate isn’t completely over you....

Author’s Note: For some reason, Yixing brings out the angst in me? I feel everything I ever try to write for him it’s highkey angsty like Jesus!! But this one ended fluffy. I just felt like, idk, it got boring? It got to cliche? I just didn’t like the way it was turning out and instead of trying to change the ending, I just scrapped the whole thing lmao. Really like the first half though, like I really did something there, huh? haha

MASTERLIST

credit

It was late evening and you were spending the time unwinding from a long day at work. A glass of wine at your side, you sat comfortably on the couch reading peacefully to yourself.

That was until the sound of a key unlocking the front door shattered the calm atmosphere.

Peeking over the rim of your gold reading glasses, you take in the intruder’s form. After stepping out of his shoes, his head swiveled around to meet your gaze, probably from sensing your stare. He nodded in greeting before dashing down the hall towards his bedroom, his door closing with a soft click.

It wasn’t always his room.

The mood you were in before he got there was now tarnished, as if you’d lost your appetite. With a sigh, you gently shut your book before leaning over to snatch ahold of the fragile neck of the glass holding the wine you had been sipping on. You downed every last drop of the blood red liquid, grimacing as it uncomfortably sat in your belly. Once that task was done, you leave to your bedroom—a room you once shared with the man currently inhabiting the one across the hall.

It’s safe to say that your life had gotten rather challenging lately. 

After another particularly draining day at work, you dragged one of your fellow coworkers, Kim Jongin, back to your condo for dinner. It wasn’t anything romantic. The two of you formed an instant bond after realizing you were the youngest people at the office you worked, thus leading to you getting closer, especially as of late. You usually would have dinner out or at his place, but made the impromptu decision to hold it at yours since he was whining the whole day about never being invited.

As you both crossed the threshold, his eyes widened in awe. “And I thought the outside was nice. I knew you were rich.”

Rolling your eyes, you led him deeper into the building. “My roommate makes a lot more money than I do, but we manage to live comfortably.”

“’Comfortably’.” Jongin scoffed, still taking in your home with a dazed expression.

After giving him a tour, you both settled on the couch in your living room, ordering takeout from three different places and putting a movie on. Once the food arrived, the two of you chatted and ate until you felt like puking and hung out like regular friends did.

About a couple hours in, you heard that dreaded sound of a key opening your front door. You stiffened anxiously, but Jongin didn’t sense your drastic change of mood, as he was too busy laughing violently—there really is no other way to describe the way he laughs—at the scene unfolding on the television screen. He did the whole bit: stomped his feet, slapped the pillow in his lap, and tumbled onto your own.

That was the position you were found in.

The clearing of a throat jolted Jongin upright. It was silent as he caught his bearings, wiping the tears that had fell down his cheeks as he regained his breath. Once he was composed, he blinked up at whoever made the sound.

Zhang Yixing stood beside the couch; scrutinizing your visitor who had sobered up completely with the dark look aimed his way.

“Um….” You scratched the back of your head awkwardly, not knowing where to start and hyper aware of the fact you were sat between both men.

“I see you have a guest,” Yixing finally spoke lowly. He pulled his gaze away from Jongin long enough to pin them on you. You gulped. His eyebrow lifted accusingly and, for some reason, shame overwhelmed you, as if you got caught in the act of something sinful. It caused you to slump into the couch and stare at your hands that were resting on your thighs. “Well, don’t let me intrude. Continue on.”

His words were friendly enough, but the tone revealed otherwise. He bid you both a farewell before taking off into his side of the flat.

Awkwardness flooded the area like a bad smell as Jongin and you shared a glance.

“Your roommate, I take it,” he said, throwing you a knowing look that didn’t go unnoticed.

You confirmed his statement with a simple nod.

“He seemed…like more than a roommate?”

You winced at his assessment, turning the other way in an attempt to hide your reaction. He sensed your reluctance to reveal anything and called your name, beckoning you to spill your secrets. With a groan, you gave in and spun around to face him.

“Fine! He just so happens to be my ex-boyfriend! Happy now?” You snapped. You had been hoping to avoid this conversation, aware of how bizarre your current living situation was. Not wanting to explain yourself was the main reason you hadn’t brought Jongin over in the first place.

The gears in his head started turning and you watched him process the information. With an almost audible click, he gasped dramatically as the truth dawned on him. Going as far as dropping his jaw and covering his mouth with his hand in shock. He pointed a shaky finger at you accusingly. “He…. You’re roommates with your ex-boyfriend?”

You brought your knees up to your chin, wrapping your arms around your legs, letting out a breathy, “yeah.”

“How, if I may ask, did that happen?” Now that he was aware of what was going on, he seemed more apathetic towards you.

“Oh boy.” You leaned your head against the back of the couch, staring up at your ceiling as if it held all the answers to life’s problems. “Yixing and I had been together for four years. Funny enough, we met the day of our college graduation. Went to the same college and didn’t even know until it was over. Anyways, as we grew closer and started our lives together, we, as most adults do, got super busy with our jobs. He’s really passionate about producing. He makes beats and instrumentals and sends them to huge entertainment companies. It wasn’t until he decided to send his lyrics in as well that he started getting picked up. In the past year, he’s kind of become a huge deal. He writes and composes songs for all kinds of major artists on this side of the world. You might’ve heard of him, his artist name is Lay.”

It took another moment, but then Jongin’s face fell into another one of shock. “I thought he looked familiar!”

“Yeah, he hangs out with all the famous people and has actually been preparing to debut as an artist himself.”

“So, is that why you broke up?”

You shrugged. “In a way. I got this new editing job and am starting to make connections myself. We both had been so busy trying to build our careers; we rarely had time to build on our relationship. One day he came home and I told him I wanted to break up. It’s not that I didn’t love him anymore; it was more like I loved him enough to realize I was hindering him, holding him back from becoming something great. Music is his main priority, the one thing he loves more than anything, loving me took some of that away.”

Jongin said your name softly, caressing your shoulder comfortingly.

“It’s fine,” you assured before continuing. “He took it very well. Almost too well. It stung a bit, I mean, he agreed almost faster than I could get it out! But it happened and the real issue arose: who kept the condo? Neither of us wanted to move. This place was our home, our sanctuary. The first real adult purchase we made together and it was filled with precious memories I didn’t want to move on from just yet. We argued over it for two days, until finally deciding it would probably just be easier for us to both stay. I mean, both our names are on the lease; it’s too expensive to live in alone and forget trying to find another roommate! This house is as much his as mine, so he just simply moved down the hall, into the old guest room he was using as a studio anyways, so it wasn’t like it was a drastic change for him. It’s been around ten months now and we’re amicable. I mean, the only thing we share is this living room and the kitchen and we rarely run into each other. It’s nice, I guess, all things considered….”

The past ten months replayed in your mind. The first two months were uncomfortable, to say the least. The shift from being lovers to simply roommates wasn’t as easy a transition than you led Jongin to believe. Seeing your ex-boyfriend everyday while cradling a wounded heart was beyond difficult, but you somehow managed. Threw yourself deeper into your work, hung out with both old and new friends, and joined a yoga class to keep yourself preoccupied. Before you knew it, the harsh sting of loss faded into a healing bruise that only hurt once pressure was applied. Seeing Yixing, as little as you did, wasn’t as bad anymore.

“Are you sure he doesn’t have any more feelings for you?” Jongin questioned hesitantly. “He didn’t seem too happy to see me here.”

Yixing’s deadly glare from earlier swam back to the forefront of your mind and you wondered briefly if he did still love you, but you immediately shook the thought away with a laugh.

“No. I highly doubt it. We’ve both had time to move on.”

“You sure?” Jongin asked again.

You nodded confidently. “Oh yeah. We’re just roommates.”

Jongin left soon after that conversation, not completely sold on Yixing not having feelings for you. Once he left, you got ready for bed. Yixing found you in the kitchen a little later, pouring a glass of water for your bedside table. You didn’t see or hear him enter, he’s always been a silent mover, constantly startling you with his sudden appearances.

Once you turned and saw him a mere breath away you flinched with a yelp.

“Yixing!” You scolded, clutching your chest to quiet down your speeding heart.

“Ah, sorry,” he said, scratching his head. He was also cladded in his pajamas like he would be retiring to bed soon.

You reassured him it was okay before digging in the freezer for some chocolate—a late night snack. He was still hovering around the counter, not attempting to get anything and it confused you. When you glanced at him, he was staring at you intently.

“Do you…need something?” You asked.

“Yeah,” he began with a start. “I was just curious to know, well, since when did you start bringing other men into our home?”

The question left you flabbergasted. He said it casually, but you could see the restraint in his neck. He was holding in his anger.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “It’s really none of your business, being you and I aren’t together anymore.”

“We may not be in a relationship, but this is my house just as much yours and I would like to know who is in it—especially when I’m not here.”

“It that the problem?” You questioned, remembering Jongin’s questions from earlier. “Would I still be interrogated like this if I had brought a girl over instead?”

“I—It—” He stumbled over his words and you rolled your eyes. That seemed to set him off. “We were together for four years! Yet it only took you a few months to move on to somebody else? Right in front of me?”

His words were biting, and had the same effect on you that yours had on him. “I’m not! As I said before, it really is none of your business, but if you must know, Jongin is just a coworker and he has a girlfriend! I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to have male friends, especially since you didn’t have a problem with it when we were together.”

“Of course I’d have a problem with it now,” he snarled like it was an obvious fact. When Yixing was angry, he didn’t get loud, he got quiet, and it was terrifying. “And if you can’t understand the reasoning, you’re blinder than I thought.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You asked.

“You know what? It’s nothing. Forget I said anything.” He started backing up until he had exited the kitchen. He stormed back to the confines of his room, hollering as he went, “invite whoever you want! Have an orgy for all I care! It doesn’t matter how I feel about it. It never does!”

His door slammed shut behind him, causing you to jump again.

What the hell was his problem?

~*~

The following week was filled with stiffness. You hadn’t thought much about the conversation had with Yixing until you woke up the next day restless and unsettled. You couldn’t even bare to look at the man you lived with.

It had been the first time you both had a real conversation since the break up and it was riddled with things left unsaid. What had Yixing meant when he said you were blind? Why was he so angry at the thought of you bringing home another man? You understood if he felt uncomfortable having strangers in his house without his approval, but it didn’t seem like a good enough reason to garner such a reaction. Would it? It appeared deeper than that—his hurt. Yet, as much as you racked your brain, you couldn’t figure out why.

Deep down you knew, but were too petrified at the implications to humor it.

Instead you did what you do best and ignored the whole situation. You also ignored the strange empty feeling in your chest every time you thought of Yixing.

Saturday came and as soon as the elevator opened to your floor, you felt the bass of music vibrating throughout the hall. Your neighbor must be throwing a party. Great! Just what you needed after a long day of work.

As you got closer, you realized the music was not coming from next door, but in fact, your place.

Your mind goes into overdrive as your steps slow. Yixing hadn’t mentioned anything about a party. Sure, you weren’t exactly on speaking terms at the moment, but you had a right to know if he was going to be doing something like this.

The need to get answers spurred you into action, ripping the door open in record time. The cacophony of party noises nearly blew you back. Every surface was covered in drinks and food and you had never seen so many bodies in your home. After the shock wore off, you pressed on, diving head first into the sea of people.

As you searched for that one familiar face, you were stricken by how many other faces you recognized. Was that Dean in your house? You paused to get a closer look before recalling your mission. Determination overtook you and with a new sense of purpose, you continued squeezing through the crowd.

Yixing was nowhere to be found.

After checking the most congested areas twice, fear started blooming within your gut. Did he leave? Was this party done without either one of your knowledge? Before panic could properly set in, you saw someone who could probably help you out.

“Byun Baekhyun!” You roared over the music, causing the smaller man to visibly shake. He took you in with wide eyes before stuttering your name nervously.

Oh, he was in trouble.

“Would you mind telling me what the fuck is going on?” You said, closing in on him. He had been leaning against a kitchen counter, red cup in hand.

“I…. Yixing didn’t tell you?”

“Does it look like he did?” You asked, fuming.

“It’s a team party.” He didn’t waste anymore time stalling. He also wasn’t slurring his words and his face wasn’t as red as the cup in his hand, both tell tale signs of his intoxication, meaning he was sober. “Since Yixing is the founder of Zhang Studios, he took it upon himself to hold the event at his place. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you, it had been planned months ago….”

“Speaking of Yixing, where is he?” You continued interrogating the poor man.

Baekhyun did a weak scan of the area before shrugging. “Room maybe?”

Letting out an annoyed groan, you left Baekhyun and decided to give up for now. This time, when you saw Dean again you caught his eye and nodded in greeting, silently fangirling when he smiled and bowed slightly in return. Wow, he was beautiful. Relief flooded you upon realizing your room hadn’t been touched. You took a brisk shower to wash away the day and then made yourself as comfortable in your bed as you could. There was no way sleep was going to come, not with the way the walls were reverberating from the bass intermingling with the sounds of drunk people outside your room. That wouldn’t stop you from at least trying. As you lay there, you imagined all the pieces of your mind you were going to give Yixing once you finally saw him.

Somehow, between all the scenarios playing in your mind, you dozed off, only made aware of the fact when you were jerked awake by the door colliding into your wall, the chaos from outside pouring in. You sprang upright, catching the man of the hour stumbling in. He caught the door and slammed it shut, leaning against it tiredly.

You cursed yourself for forgetting to lock the door. 

Yixing soon noticed you on the bed, straightening up at the sight of you.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, voice croaking from lack of use.

“I…it was too loud out there and my room is currently occupied.” The way he said that had you guessing whoever was in there was making good use of his mattress.

“So my room was the best choice, Lay?” You questioned, growing irritated the longer you looked at him. “It’s your party, just tell everyone to leave.”

“Oh, so I’m Lay now?” He questioned, ignoring the second part of your statement. He shook his head before making his way over to the foot of your mattress, gingerly sitting on the end with his back facing you.

This was the closest you had been to him in months.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were throwing a party?” You asked.

“The same reason you didn’t tell me you were inviting men into our home,” he shot back instantly. 

You scoffed. “You’re really still hung up on that? I already told you it’s not like that between Jongin and me.”

“Of course I’m still ‘hung up’ on that.” He sounded tired, as if he were exhausted with having to explain himself. He took a deep breath before suddenly turning around so that he was facing you. “I…I miss you.”

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline before you laughed dismissively. “You must be drunk.”

“No, I’m not. I’m being serious. I miss you.”

It was your turn to shake your head. “You see me pretty much every day.”

“That’s not what I mean.” He licked his lips before crawling closer until he was directly in front of you, knees pressing against yours through the comforter. “I miss your laugh and your lame jokes. I miss your cooking and the way you always hum when you’re really focused or nervous. I miss your friendship and your warmth. I miss you.”

“Yixing….” His confession was overwhelming and that odd sense of emptiness you had been feeling all week in the pit of your stomach was back in full force.

He closed his eyes and hummed appreciatively. “I miss the way you say my name also.”

When they reopened, they were alight, practically glowing in the darkness of your room.

“I---this…. Where is this coming from?” You questioned, nearly speechless from his words.

His features softened as he stared at you as if you held his world. It was a look you hadn’t received in months—if not over a year. Your throat tightened as he lifted a hand to rest his fingertips against your cheek, his thumb rubbing the soft flesh gently. He grinned and your heart stuttered.

“I’ve been holding back for a while because I didn’t want to make things weird, but I don’t know how much longer I can refrain myself.”

“Yixing, you’re drunk,” you repeated. “You’re not in your right state of mind. You can’t possibly mean any of this.”

“Do I look drunk?” He asked. The only thing he looked was offended. “Do I sound drunk? You know how I get when I’m intoxicated, I would have been sleeping in a corner somewhere hours ago if I were.”

“How can I possibly believe any of this when you agreed to break up?”

“I did it because I thought that’s what you wanted,” he informed. “I always put you first. If you were unhappy in this relationship, I wasn’t going to hold you back, no matter how I felt.”

“So, you didn’t want to break up?” You asked, tears starting to blur your vision.

“Of course not,” he whispered brokenly. “You have always been the most important thing in my life. You still are.”

“I just don’t know.”

He moved even closer, his nose barely brushing yours as he slightly tightened his grip on your face. “Let me prove it.”

And with that, he kissed you.

The first contact of your lips was just a whisper, him testing the waters. When you didn’t protest, he went in again, latching onto your upper lip with added force. His scent of pine and sweat and something that was solely him traveled up your nostrils, bringing you back to simpler times. His presence comforted you, allowing you to fall into his embrace. Your hands went up to cup his face and return the kiss with more fervor, prompting him to deepen the kiss. God, you missed him too, more than you would ever allow yourself to believe. He was everything you ever wanted, everything you ever needed, and right now proved that. His hands wandered up and down your sides and you shivered at his touch, starved from it for too long.

He pulled you mouth open with his, moaning slightly as he nudged your tongue with his own and the action seemed to break the spell you had been under.

You yanked his head back and your lips made an audible pop as they separated. It took him a second to grasp what happened and then he was gazing down at you with a hot yet dazed expression that made you want to kiss him again, but you held on. His dark hair was sticking up at all angles from the force of your ravaging fingers and his lips were starting to swell slightly. He looked a mess.

He looked delicious.

“Get out,” you murmured, glaring at your legs.

“What?” Shock was evident in his voice.

“I said ‘get out’!” You yelled, angry with yourself as tears formed in your eyes.

“But I thought—”

“Well, you thought wrong. Please,” you begged. It was silent for a long moment, but then he was moving. He quietly shuffled off your bed and walked to the door, hesitating for a second to peek at you before leaving with a heavy sigh, the door clicking lightly behind him.

With his presence gone, you were able to move, diving into your covers and burying your head into your pillows to muffle the screams before trying to calm down.

The music from outside died abruptly, the silence helping you swiftly fall asleep.

~*~

You wake up before your alarm the next day and head to work hours before your shift actually began. The last thing you wanted to do so early in the morning was be caught in the same area as him.

Jongin was pleased to know his suspicions were correct when it came to Yixing and tried to talk you into just going for it when it was obvious you still felt something for the man, but you declined.

Yixing was in the past.

It was for the best—your separation. At least, that’s what you had been telling yourself.

When you got home, you were met with a spotless place. All evidence of the party was gone, leaving you wondering if you had dreamt the whole thing. Making your way further into the house, you run upon Yixing with a Swiffer in his hands, mopping the dining room floor. He straightened up with a sigh, stilling at the sight of you.

You bounced on the balls of your feet, a nervous habit, under his scrutiny. His expression was unreadable, but that was as much an answer as any.

“Hey,” you let out in a breath after the silence had drawn on for too long.

“Hey,” he replied, voice reserved.

“You cleaned—”

“Look, I’m—”

You both stopped abruptly as you spoke over each other, another silence filled the air as you hesitated.

“You go first.” He finally urged gently.

“You, uh, you cleaned up.” You pointed out the obvious, gesturing around you to the shimmering house.

“Yeah, I—I wanted to apologize for last night,” he revealed, running a hand through his hair. “It was wrong of me to throw a party without talking to you first. Not to mention, what happened after….”

You cleared your throat awkwardly at the fresh memory.

“It wasn’t my intention to hurt or make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry for that. I was out of line and I really don’t have an excuse….”

His eyebrows furrowed as he continued rambling nervously. He appeared worried at first; leading you to believe maybe he was scared at the thought you were planning on kicking him out.

His sentence faltered, but you knew he wasn’t finished, so you didn’t say anything. The fear that once coated his voice was nowhere to be found when he opened his mouth again. 

“That being said,” he began. His tone was lower and his eyes were a few shades darker than before as he examined you with a steady gaze. The whole shift of his demeanor sent chills down your spine. “I had a lot of time to think and I’ve come to this conclusion.”

He set the mop aside and approached you until he was an arm’s length away. “I want you back.”

You eyes widened in shock, though in the back of your mind you should have known this was coming. 

“Being with you last night,” he continued. “I meant what I said about missing you. We work better together and I can’t believe I’ve allowed this to go on for so long.” 

“Yixing, what are you going on about?”

“I want to be with you again! This ‘arrangement’ we have going on is pure torture! Having to see you everyday, but not being able to touch you. Hell, nowadays it’s like I’m not even allowed to look at you! I just… don’t know for how much longer I can do this.”

“We both decided it was for the best to be separated for the moment,” you said, taking a safe step back.

“Yeah, but the moment’s past. I can’t keep living like this. Being with you, but not with you! Especially in this place where we built a life together.”

“That’s too bad!” You said, voice rising slightly with irritation. “I don’t think I want to change what we are now!”

“I knew you’d say that,” he revealed. “So, I came up with a plan.”

You lifted an eyebrow quizzically.

He took a deep breath. “Tomorrow is the first. Give me one month to win you back and, if by the end you still honestly believe you don’t want to be with me anymore, I’ll leave.”

“Leave?” You asked, voice scratchy.

He nodded in confirmation. “Yeah. I’ll move out and you won’t ever have to see me again.”

“Why?” You felt like the room was spinning and the urge to sit was strong.

“I already told you,” he said gently. “I can’t live in this house with you just as a roommate. Not when I’m still in love with you.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but found no words would come out.

He smiled sadly before closing the space between you, leaning in to leave a lingering kiss on you forehead. You gasped at the gesture. He pulled away and leaned his forehead on the spot he just kissed. “One month. That’s all I’m asking. Just one.”

The way your heart pounded against your chest felt like a weakness and, if there was one thing you hated most, it was feeling weak.

“Fine.” You agreed, shoving him away so that you could actually breathe and focus properly. “One month. And if by the end your plan doesn’t work—which I’m sure it won’t—you’re out of here.”

He smiled, a wide joyous thing and pointed at you. “I’m going to win you back!”

“Whatever,” you mumbled, rubbing your temples as you retreated to your room.

~*~

Yixing wasted no time in his scheme of seduction.

The following morning, you were awoken by the beautiful sent of breakfast cooking. You stumbled out of bed; eyes still sealed shut from crust as you made your way to the kitchen only to be met with Yixing.

Shirtless.

If that wasn’t enough to wake you up, you didn’t know what was.

“Morning.” He grinned once he spotted you, taking the pan from the stove and shoveling eggs onto two stacked plates. “I made breakfast.”

“I see.” You slid onto a stool by the dining room bar as he stood across from you, setting a plate before you. It was loaded with the works and your stomach growled. You wasted no time stuffing your face, having to hide a moan of pleasure. You missed his cooking. “You haven’t cooked for me in a while.”

“I know. I thought now would be the perfect time to.”

You gathered what he was saying between the lines and chose to ignore it, just like you were ignoring the fact that he was still shirtless. He wandered about, taking a bite of food before cleaning the dishes and putting things away. When his attention was diverted, you peeked up at his lithe frame, taking in all the taunt muscle wrapped around his torso. It looked just as firm and strong as you remembered it and now your mouth was watering from something else besides the food. His six-pack was still visible despite him being in the middle of eating and how come his abs were directly in front of you?

He cleared his throat and you coughed, choking on your food a little. Once you sipped on some water you built the nerve to meet his gaze. He was studying you with a knowing smirk. 

“You should put a shirt on,” you grumbled, attention back on your nearly empty plate.

“But I thought you were enjoying the view?”

“Shut up.”

His chuckles echoed as he went back to his room to fulfill your request.

So, this was how he was going to play?

The following three weeks were more or less the same. Yixing would come up with ways to get you to fall for him once again. Cooking meals, asking you about your day, massaging your back after a long day of work. Jongin’s eyebrows blended with his hairline the day you came to work with a ginormous bouquet of flowers on your desk sent by a Zhang Yixing. He questioned you for the rest of the week, with you only pushing the subject away.

As much as you wanted to deny it, Yixing was creeping back into your heart. You were beginning to remember all the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place and he was right when he said you worked better together.

But, at the same time, you were too stubborn to give in.

The last day of the month approached faster than you thought possible and you were kind of disappointed. You liked having Yixing’s attention again, liked the feeling of being wanted by him. But, after today, he would be moving out and once he was gone, there was no way you would be able to afford it, so you would have to move out also and this chapter in your life would be over for good.

It was bittersweet.

You tried not to be in your feelings as you opened the door after work. As you entered, you froze as you took in your surroundings.

All the lights were off except one lamp and the dim lighting cast a romantic glow over the red rose petals that laid on the floor.

“Welcome back.” You heard from the darkness, catching Yixing off to the side.

“What’s all this?” You asked.

He shrugged, taking a few hesitant steps towards you. “It’s the last day.”

You felt a pang in your chest from his words, but tried to hide the pain from him. “So what do you have planned today?”

Wordlessly, he took your hand, leading you down the hall that lead to your bedroom. He paused just outside of your door, where the small square above the ceiling was open, a ladder leading up into the attic.

“After you,” he murmured, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

You threw him a skeptical glance, but climbed ahead, knowing exactly where he was taking you. Once inside the dusty attic, you went to the small triangular window, pushing it open to the roof. 

You’re left breathless at the sight in front of you.

Yixing had already been here, coating the small area in the roses that lay below you as well. There were a couple small lanterns illuminating a purple plush blanket with pillows thrown haphazardly over it. In the center was a basket that you knew had your favorite dishes in it, being you could smell them. Ahead of you, the twinkling lights of downtown glittered like stars.

This used to be your spot.

“Do you like it?” Hands are on your shoulders as Yixing climbed in from behind you, his breath tickling the hairs on your neck and you gulped.

“It’s beautiful,” you revealed, eyes watering slightly from his efforts.

“Come.” He grabbed your hand again, dragging you over to the little picnic dinner he had made. Once you two were seated, he opened the basket, revealing that he had in fact brought your favorites.

You just stared at him in awe, blown away by the amount of effort he put in so far.

“Stop staring at me,” he said with a laugh, handing you a plate. “Eat.”

“I can’t help it,” you said after taking a bite. It was delicious. “I just can’t believe you’ve done all this.”

“Why is that so hard to believe?” He asked.

You shrugged. “It’s been a while since we’ve done something like this.”

He’s quiet for a moment, chewing thoughtfully. The way the light from the lanterns bounced off his features made him appear way more beautiful than you remembered.

Once he swallowed, he gave you his undivided attention. “I wanted to take us back to the times when we first moved in. When we first found this little spot. I thought that maybe you would remember what it felt like….”

“What what felt like?” You asked.

He rubbed his neck nervously before meeting your gaze. “What it felt like to be in love with me too.”

And as you both watched each other, you thought you were beginning to.

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, finish your meal before it gets cold.”

You do as he orders, smiling contently as you watched the view and listened to the hustle and bustle of the city below. A bottle of wine somehow made its way out, and before you knew it, you were a little tipsy.

“I wanted to show you something.” Yixing said after all the food was gone. He pulled a corner of the blanket back, revealing his favorite guitar. “I’ve been writing.”

He tuned it quietly before taking a deep breath and brushing his fingers against the chords, a beautiful melody transforming from his hands. It was amazing, slow and romantic, making you picture Spain or some other magically romantic location. He was so passionate when he played; it was something you hadn’t seen in him for so long, not until this bet happened. He began humming along, slowly building his sound until he began singing.

You missed his voice so much; you forgot just how beautiful it was. Goosebumps raised on your arms; more growing once you heard what he was saying. He sang about a forgotten love, a one sided love. Yearning to turn back the clock, to go to how things once were. It was obvious what he was singing about, who in particular he wrote it for. And the pain he had been suffering through was evident to the point where you could feel it in your heart. 

He got to the bridge of the song, lamenting about the past, hitting a high note that made you shiver before changing notes swiftly, to a song that rang more familiar.

He was now singing your song.

The one he wrote for you on your first year anniversary. The one he always sang to you whenever you were alone.

“Who am I without my melody? Just a hopeful song, lyrics to sing along to….”

Suddenly it was three years ago, when he first sang it to you. You knew at that moment that he was the One. The one you were going to spend the rest of your life with. How optimistic of you? How sad.

The last chord rang into the night, being carried away with the breeze and then you were on top of him. He froze for a second uncomprehendingly, but then you heard the clang of his guitar hit the cement ground and he was kissing you back with fervor so intense it felt palpable. All that could be heard was gasping and lips smacking and it was nearly dirty--your want for him in that moment.

His hands slid under your shirt, pulling buttons open with his wrists until they rested right below your chest, his thumb brushing against your swollen flesh teasingly.

“Bedroom,” you growled between kisses and he wasted no time hiking you up so that you were able to wind your legs around his waist, pressing yourself as close to him as possible so that you could feel his hard torso through his shirt.

It was a struggle, but he was somehow able to get you both back into your house without you ever having to get off, the only thing being you had to kiss other parts of him besides his lips, but neither one of you seemed to mind.

You felt the sheets underneath you as he gently placed you on the bed before resuming what was started. He was everywhere around you, overwhelming all of your senses, leaving your body on high alert with every touch of his fingers, even his breath left you shaking with need.

“I love you,” he whispered into the skin of your stomach. “I love you so much.”

As a reply, you pulled at his hair, dragging him over you so that you could look him in the eyes. “Show me.”

~*~

Pressure on your face brought you back to reality the next day. You heard chuckling as you opened your eyes to the brightness of the day.

“Morning, Love.” You heard Yixing’s voice and glanced up to see him smiling down at you. How much wine did you drink? You could barely remember what happened the night before, but your body was sore and oh no….

You ran your hand over the sheets to check that you were indeed naked and bit your lip. How did you allow yourself to break like this?

“I was just about to jump in the shower…” Yixing said, lifting his eyebrows suggestively. “Would you like to join me?”

“Um….” You took a deep breath. “I’m okay. You go first.”

He pouted dejectedly, but got up. You tried not to stare at his bare ass as he left.

Boy, oh boy, were you in trouble!

You swiftly got up, yanking the first articles of clothing you could find and groaning once you realized the shirt was Yixing’s. Needing a distraction, you found yourself flipping pancakes in the kitchen. But, it had the opposite effect because your mind was open. You had no idea what you felt for Yixing anymore. Of course there was always affection, you were together for four years, of course there’s affection. 

As you turned the tenth one you made, you felt hands on your waist and lips on your head.

“You made breakfast.”

You spun around, taking in Yixing as he wore only basketball shorts and a towel around his shoulders and gulp. “Yeah….”

He made a plate, sitting in the same spot you had the first day of the bet. “So, when should I move my stuff back into the bedroom? 

[livsoulsecrets]

Fictober Day 4 - That didn’t stop you before

Prompt number: 4

Fandom: Supergirl

Rating: General Audiences

Warning/tags: Post-Canon, Talks about death

Summary: Brainy wakes up in the DEO medical center after being rescued from the Leviathan ship, shocked he is still alive. 

-

 Brainy is convinced it is the end when he opens his eyes again. He watched many movies about death: a strong light on his face and an all white imensity around him looks just like what is described in those. 

 The only thing he didn’t expect was the pain. Every part of him is hurting, his head feels heavy and sweat is falling down his face. He thought that the one good thing about dying was being free from pain, but that was not the case here. If he was still hurting… That could only mean his body wasn’t done fighting. Brainy’s used to drawing conclusions rather quickly, but his mind is not working as usual. It is like a fog is clouding his judgment, making everything harder to understand. He tries to fall back into a familiar thought pattern: collecting evidence to prove a point.

 First, he blinks, adjusting his eyes to the light and taking in the white ceiling. Second, he feels the texture of the bed he’s in, realizing it is a hospital bed. Then, he smells the familiar ether scent and recognizes the place as the DEO medical area.

 Evidence number 1 of not being dead, he thinks: A dead person would be sent to the morgue, not the hospital. 

 He looks around his room to find that he is alone in there. The thought produces more of a reaction that he was expecting. He blames it on his system’s malfunction due to radiation overload. He had been lying to all his friends for months, working with the enemy, it would be stupid to believe his almost death would be enough to earn their forgiveness, especially Nia’s.

 Nia. She was the last thing on his mind when he passed out in the Leviathan’s ship. The curve of her lips every time he bowed down to kiss her, the gentle touch of her hands on his neck when she hugged him, the soft strands of hair falling down his chest when they slept together. He was dying and the only one on his mind was her.

 Evidence number 2 of not being dead, he files: Dead people can’t feel pain like the one he is experiencing now.

 He feels like he might pass out again until he hears some noise outside of his room. Brainy makes an effort to sit up on his bed, but it takes such a tool on him that he can’t properly breathe after that. He closes his eyes and tries to focus on hearing what is being talked about near the door.

— Nia, you should go home. Take a shower, change into something else and, then, come back. — He can make out Kara’s voice and is relieved to realize she’s talking to Nia. That means both of them are okay and safe.

— Kara, I already ate like you asked me to. I’m okay. I just want to stay until he wakes up, alright? Then, I will go home. I just- I really need to know he is okay. — Nia’s voice is trembling, but he could recognize it anywhere, in any way.

 Evidence number 3 of not being dead, he finishes: Nia is waiting for him.

 That is the one thing that convinces him in the end. Nia Nal wants him to come back to her. That is probably the only thing that makes sense to him in the middle of this chaos.

— Fine. I understand. Look, I need to give my statement about what happened. Will you be okay until I come back? — Kara asks, concern clear in her voice.

— Yes, I promise I will. Don’t worry. — Nia answers. He can’t hear anything after that, so he assumes it means Kara left. Nothing happens for a couple of minutes and he starts wondering if Nia changed her mind and left. He is proven wrong when the door is suddenly open, revealing Nia in her Dreamer outfit, eyes red and watery even under the mask. Brainy has to swallow the lump in his throat caused by how devastated she looks.

— Brainy, oh my god. You’re awake. — She rushes to his side, seeming to want to hold him. Still, she stops in the middle of the act, furrowing her brow. — Are you okay? I think I should call a doctor, I will do it right now-

— No! — He says, reaching for Nia’s arm to stop her. She doesn’t move. He waits, not knowing if he should let go or not. — I’m okay, for real. Can you just wait a moment before you do it? I just… I just want to see you for a moment. 

 She looks at him, biting her lip. After a moment, she slides her hand through his arm to hold his hand. Then, she squeezes it.

— I want to see you too. — Brainy feels like those words may be the reason he actually dies. 

 After everything he did, he didn’t dare to think of any chances of earning Nia back. Part of him just knew he had gone too far, lied for too long to take anything back. Now, despite every part of his brain warning him against it, he dares to hope for that anyway. Nia’s hand is shaking, even when she lets go of him after some seconds. She clears her throat, crossing her arms.

— I really thought you were gone. For a moment, when they brought you in, I was convinced that… That it-

— It was the end? — Brainy completes, noticing her distress.

— Yeah, I thought so. When they told us that you made it, I couldn’t even begin to understand how. Still, I’m really glad you did. — Nia finishes, her lips quivering.

— Nia, I’m really sorry, for everything. I don’t even know where to start, to be honest. The way I lied to you, to everyone, is just awful. I will understand if you never wish to speak to me again and-

— Stop! Brainy, just stop. — Nia raises her voice in the most unusual way and he immediately stops talking, surprised. — Look, I can’t do this right now. Our city was in danger. Again. People almost died. Again. You almost died. I can’t just sit down and listen to your apology like we got into a stupid argument. It’s completely different. Our world was at risk and you decided to lie and push me away instead of asking for help. It sucks and we’llI need to talk about it, but not now. — She takes a deep breath, fixing the hair that’s falling on her face. — I need everything to stop for a damn minute, so I can actually breathe. — Her eyes are filled with water now and her cheeks are flushed with red, exhaustion clear in her features. 

— So, do it. — She looks at him, confused. — Take a minute, breathe. We have time. I understand what you are saying. I’m not the person you want to talk to right now, but I can still listen. Tell me what’s in your mind. — Nia doesn’t take her eyes away from him, pondering on his offer.

— I’m just really afraid… Not just now, but all the time. I’m so afraid all the damn time and I’m just tired of it. I’m afraid of someone else trying to stop me from being Dreamer. I’m afraid you won’t make it out of this mess. I’m afraid- No, I’m fucking terrified that I’m not strong enough to handle all the horrible things that keep happening to us and this city. I try to be strong like Kara, but I don’t think I can do it anymore. — Nia sits down after that, tears falling down her face, her head buried in her hands. Her whole body is shaking now and Brainy doesn’t know what to do to make her feel better. So he does the only thing he can think of: reaches for her hands and holds them tightly while she cries. 

— It’s okay, it’s okay. — He whispers, feeling Nia’s hand shaking despite his strong hold of them. — Just let it out. — Brainy speaks softly, hoping it helps Nia calm down. He is on the edge of breaking down just by watching the woman he loves suffering like that, especially knowing part of that responsibility is his. — I’m here, I’m right here. I wasn’t here before, but I’m now. — He promises.

 Nia looks at him now, an unusual serious look on her face. She wiped the tears from her cheek, breathing more calmly now.

— There you go. Just keep breathing, it will be fine. — He hesitantly touches her cheek, caressing her face gently. He tucks her hair behind her ear, hoping the touch offers Nia some comfort. She closes her eyes, leaning in to him. When she opens them again, she’s standing so close to him Brainy can feel her breath.

— You don’t need to be strong like Kara. You just have to be strong like you. That’s more than enough. — She looks down, not seeming to be convinced by his words. — I understand why you’re scared. But what you need to understand is that didn’t stop you before and it won’t stop you now. That is what makes you so incredible: Fear doesn’t make you back down, it only pushes you forward. That is how I know you’ll be fine, no matter what happens. You’re a hero, Nia Nal, and you’re meant for great things. I know it is terrifying, but nobody in the world can stop you, nobody can take Dreamer away from you. Who you are is something you fought for every single day and that means everything you have is yours and yours only. — Brainy doesn’t even know where all of this is coming from. He’s not at his full functioning capacity yet, so that means he’s being more honest than usual.

— Oh, Brainy. — Nia whispers. — Do you really think all of that? 

— Of course I do. How could I not, with everything I know about you? — He answers. She shakes her head, still incredulous. 

— Thank you. I really needed to hear someone that believed in me today. — Nia murmurs, a small smile on her face. He can’t help but smile back. 

— No, thank you for trusting me with all of this, despite- Well, despite everything. — He adds.

— Shiu, not talking of this today. — She quickly answers. Nia moves to the edge of her seat and reaches for his hand again. Brainy is so surprised he can’t move. Then, she puts her head on his shoulder. — You are gonna stay quiet and rest now. — She commands.

— Wouldn’t think of disobeying. — He assures. 

— Good, you scared me enough for a lifetime. — The way her voice breaks shows the words are sincere.

 Brainy doesn’t know how it’s possible that Nia still cares for him in such a way when he doesn’t deserve it, but he is not going to start overthinking now. Instead, he kisses the top of her head and buries his nose in her hair. 

 It still smells just like he remembered.

 Evidence number 4 of not being dead, he thinks one last time: Only someone that is alive could feel as much love  for somebody as he does right now.

[trickstercaptain]

JACK, MASCULINITY & BISEXUALITY.

          so I’ve made absolutely no secret of the fact that one of the big things I love about Jack as a character ( among plenty, plenty of other things ) is how he challenges traditional ideas of masculinity, and I’m gonna use this meta opportunity to elaborate on that and hopefully connect it to Jack’s sexuality ( mostly within his canon verses, though a lot of this does also apply to his modern verse ). the long and the short of it is that Jack is simultaneously allowed to be a badass and admirable to the audience and display selfishness, cowardice, his own quirks and his desire to avoid violence wherever possible. the first two demonstrate the perks of being an anti-hero, but it’s the last one that I’m going to talk about first: Jack does not like violence. he will choose methods of solving a problem that avoid, where possible, the use of brute force, even when it puts him at a disadvantage. he chooses not to shoot Will in order to escape the smithy in CotBP despite that proving to be the easiest way out, and he is told by Barbossa in that same movie that it’s likely the mutiny would not have happened if he hadn’t been such a merciful captain. we are encouraged to like him as an audience because he uses his wits to get out of trouble, and we are encouraged to like him in spite of the fact that he is the worst swordsman of the franchise, relatively speaking, and that he in fact loses every single fight he is a part of ( unless he cheats, which he does frequently ). 

        second, he is also allowed to be quirky. a lot of this links in with the idea that Jack is an archetypal trickster: he is transgressive on purpose because that is what a trickster does. he breaks the rules because it’s fun, he manipulates others because it’s fun, he gets bored easily and uses trickery and deceit to get ahead of his opponents while casting himself as a fool. tricksters also tend to have a very fluid attitude towards gender because, once again, it is another way to transgress boundaries, and there’s certainly an undeniable sense of androgyny to Jack. I’m not here to label him as anything because a) in Jack’s canon any modern ideals just wouldn’t apply and b) he is still a man and, more importantly, still benefits consistently in his narrative from being a man, so this androgyny is purely in how he outwardly expresses himself rather than the result of any internal struggle. he is experimental and individualistic and this is one of many ways in which Jack’s character draws on the rock star tradition ---- particularly the rock star tradition of challenging masculinity with the way they dressed on stage ( think Bowie, Jagger and Hendrix ).

         but this sometimes effeminate expression of his sense of self does make it more difficult to be taken seriously by others, both within his own social strata of fellow pirates and outside of it: he wears kohl that, while practical, accentuates his pretty boy, fey image, he wears his hair long and braided ( which isn’t necessarily a sign of “femininity” in itself, though he combines this with tying trinkets and beads and jewellery into it ), he sways as he walks ( again, a practical response to being on a ship for long periods of time, but isn’t something that Jack ever seeks to correct in order to appear more intimidating ) and is fond of theatrical gesturing which, yes, feeds into a stereotype but means that in no way does he carry himself in a typically masculine way. for instance, the way Jack sits: while yes there are times when he deliberately kicks his feet up on the table to occupy extra space and piss people off, he doesn’t consistently sit down in a way that emphasises his physical power or dominance ---- in fact, in the last multiple Jacks scene in AWE, when Jack is talking to himself in the brig, we see one of the clones crossing his legs with his hands on his lap as he sits on the bench ---- something I would argue is rather reserved and not overly masculine in nature.

        now there’s an argument to be made that Jack uses his effeminacy to his advantage, in the same way that a trickster would bend any rule that benefitted him, and that this isn’t the true him, but I’d argue that, while there is of course an element of using that behaviour to encourage others to dismiss him as a fool of no consequence, it is too consistent for it to be an act, particularly as it causes him as many problems as it does solutions. it’s absolutely in his nature. another great example I want to draw on is in The Price of Freedom, where Jack uses his “sexuality” ( I use this word loosely as it’s really the only way to describe what he does lmao ) to unsettle one of Teague’s lieutenants and jailors and throw him off, both while he’s been searched airport security style and while he’s trying to conspire with Christophe to break him out of Shipwreck’s cells.

“Roger, old chum, unless you want to cause me embarrassment—and yourself a lifelong case of envy—by demanding that I actually produce the goods for your delectation…er…inspection, I’d suggest you desist.” He batted his eyes at Teague’s lieutenant.

[...] Without answering, Jack abruptly turned to confront Mortensen, who was looming behind him, scarcely a handbreadth away. “I don’t care if you’re present, Roger, but must you breathe down the back of me neck?” He rolled his eyes. “Or are you trying to work up the courage to grab me backside and give it a squeeze?” He’d spoken loudly, and his voice carried to all Christophe’s crewmen. The cell-bound pirates laughed, whistled, and jeered obscene suggestions at Mortensen.

        I love this scene because it shows how Jack switches effortlessly between typically masculine and typically feminine behaviour and uses both to achieve what he wants. the seductive act of flirting with Mortensen ( despite the fact that Jack is twenty in this scene and is very likely half the age of the jailor in question lmao ) to throw him off is a very femme fatale sort of solution ( and that is an archetype that Jack plays around with a lot ), but being a man adds an element of what I spoke of earlier too ---- that he’s more likely to be dismissed as an irritating little shit and not someone who is conspiring to break someone out of the cells. he also relies on the hyper-masculinity he is surrounded by when he speaks loudly enough for all of the pirates in the cells to hear and jeer Mortensen in response, further embarrassing him and diverting his attention long enough for Jack to make his intentions to Christophe clear.

        because this is the thing about pirates, friends. yes, they were largely accepting of and/or unbothered by homosexual behaviour, and had crews who operated in a far fairer way than many merchant or naval ships of the same period, but they are still male-dominated environments. female pirates are rare as far as historical records show purely because we only know for sure that a few were women. women would, for the most part, have to adopt masculine traits in order to exist in the same space, and many would and did disguise themselves as men in order to achieve this. Jack is therefore something of an anomaly in his challenge of male gender norms ---- he could act more like your typical brutish, violent male captain and have a far easier time of it because that’s ultimately the sort of behaviour that is rewarded in this hyper masculine space, but he doesn’t, and this is where he stands out and positions himself as an outsider even in the profession he had literally branded into his arm.

        Jack has also been directly hurt by this culture of hyper masculinity, too. it’s clear that his grandmother sees him as an easy target for her abuse because he both struggled to and didn’t want to conform, and he faces similar criticism from Teague because of his non-violent personality. in his attempt to not become like Teague, too, Jack internalises his own anger and aggression which makes him self-destructive as opposed to outwardly destructive to others. Christophe is the most similar pirate in the franchise to Jack in terms of the flamboyant way in which they both present themselves ( and Jack is no doubt influenced by Christophe in that respect, though that’s another meta entirely ), but Jack does not share his ruthless, amoral personality. and he is mutinied against by Barbossa because people are easier to search when they’re dead. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, but it speaks to the strength of Jack’s character that he remains a largely good-hearted individual when it ultimately comes down to it, and did not contort his sense of self in order to make his life easier.

        so linking all of this into his sexuality, while Jack is bisexual by modern definitions of the word and does not have any shame associated with it due to the openness of pirates to living outside of the established norm ( and the fact that Jack grew up among these pirates, so would likely have not realised the extent of the prejudice that existed until he joined the merchant service and entered into civilised society ---- and I mean, when he did he was called a molly at one point by Mercer ), he was never properly taught how to have a healthy relationship with another man, whether romantically/sexually or not. Jack doesn’t really have many positive close relationships with other men to draw on ( Robby and Gibbs are of course the exceptions, and they are both extremely important ) and all of the betrayals in his life until Elizabeth come from men. moreover, just because pirates were more accepting of homosexual relations between men, doesn’t necessarily mean that pirates should be held up as paragons of healthy behaviour lmao, both in general and in regards to male on male relationships. ships are male dominated microcosms in the same way that all-male prisons are. and this is why Jack does develop one toxic male trait: the inability to express his emotions in a constructive and open way.

        Jack therefore, for the most part, just doesn’t like men. he knows how to get along with them, he certainly has a brothers-in-arms approach to his crewmates and isn’t beyond liking the odd one or two, like Robby and Gibbs ---- and it is certainly a theme that Jack is drawn to those soft, non-threatening, nurturing sorts of men ( to fill a void of nurturing behaviour in his life, imo ). of course he has trashy taste too thanks to the lingering damage of his crush on Christophe and living and growing up in the sort of environment that rewards hyper-masculine behaviour, but his most successful relationships with men are those he doesn’t perceive as threatening, and those who are happy to compliment rather than challenge him in his position as captain.

       meanwhile, he loves women. absolutely fucking adores them, and I don’t mean this just in a sexual way, but in a genuinely appreciative way too. he craves their company and prefers their company to men ( he is honestly so much happier sat at a table with five other women than he is sat with five other men ), and I think this is because he’s more likely to find acceptance with them than he is men, and historically speaking in his life has found greater understanding and affection and care from women than he ever has from his own sex. and I think in turn, because he too is a very non-threatening sort of man, absolutely a woman’s man like my god, is why he is generally adored so much by the women in his life in spite of his flaws and lesser traits lmao. why do Giselle and Scarlett constantly let him back into their lives?? because yes he’s fun and  good in bed but, if Jack’s list of corrected lies to them at the end of AWE is any indication, he also spends a considerable amount of time just talking to them, spending time in their company and getting to know them.

[renaroo]

Cass Cain vs the Bat Family for the last slice of Alfred's pie. "Is that a challenge?"

A/N: This became a more Batfam entirety kind of story and then a commentary on the madness of quarantine in my own family using Uno as a proxy. Regardless it was a lot of fun to do.

Four Walls and Attitude 

Oracle places her hand against the map behind her. What was once a black and white scaled model of Gotham is now glowing a radioactive green with shades of green depending on the island, the neighborhood, and even the street.

Everyone, including Batman, stares in awe of the projection.

“In other words,” Oracle says, looking sharply over her glasses, “there is absolutely no way we can operate like normal without causing things getting worse.”

Silence spreads quickly throughout the cave. Most of them don’t even know what to make of the information.

Finally, giving voice to the general shock, Nightwing finally says, “Wow. Corona killed Batman.”

“It did not, the rest of you are staying in the manor,” Batman concludes, leading to an eruption of disagreement.

“Did you not pay attention to what I just said?” Oracle demands. “It goes for you, too, Bruce. No one in this cave can leave without it causing a major public health challenge. We patrol too many areas, cross-contaminate with each other too often, and, worst of all, we have immunocompromised family members of our own to worry about.”

It was an intentionally vague statement, but it doesn’t stop the meaningful glances toward Alfred and Red Robin.

Red Robin crosses his arms angrily. “I resent that statement.”

“Maybe keep better track of your spleen,” Red Hood snorts.

Black Bat is uncertain, shifting on her heels. “What do we do?”

“Social distance and adapt,” Oracle answers easily, straightening her glasses. “It’s possible to fight crime without punching people, you realize. That’s my entire M.O.”

The other vigilantes look at each other warily.

***

The size of the manor was enough reason on its own for them to make it their main base of quarantine. There are obviously more than enough supplies, more rooms than any of them could use independently, and access to equipment and the cave should emergencies arise.

Not to mention, the vast majority of them live there already.

Stephanie calls her mom, Barbara messages the Birds of Prey, and they all find solo activities for the first day, only really intersecting at the library, the kitchen, and the entertainment room during chance encounters.

That seemed to be a good call. And when there is a need for some social interaction, it’s almost always in their usual social groups however they naturally lie.

No one sees Bruce but that seems pretty par for the course.

It isn’t until the third day that things get slightly more challenging.

Stephanie, Duke, and Cassandra enter the mini-theater room with a giant tub of popcorn. The lights are off, but the projector is running and the main couch is occupied by Dick and Damian.

“Oh, didn’t realize you guys were in here,” Duke says sheepishly.

“SHH!” Damian hisses at them.

Dick arches back enough to look at the trio over his shoulder. “No problem, we’re watching Planet Earth. Want to join?”

Stephanie and Duke look at each other with mirrored grimaces.

Cassandra squints at the screen. “No,” she answers for them. “How long?”

“We’re marathoning,” Dick shrugs. “Started about an hour ago—“

“SHH!” Damian snarls at them again.

“We were hoping to watch a movie,” Steph says. Her gaze falls more on Damian than Dick, since he is no doubt the one to appeal to. “The Breakfast Club, it’s a classic. You’d like it.”

Duke looks at them all skeptically. “He would? Really?”

“Cass, you know there’s a different television set,” Dick says, pointing to the floor below.

“Tim’s playing,” Cass says in response, her hands holding up an invisible controller as she mimes Tim’s thumb movements.

“There’s a million places you can set up a laptop,” Dick continues to plea.

That earns a crossed look from Stephanie. “So? What do we need to do? Start putting signup sheets in all the rooms? Just share the projector with us after Planet Earth switches episodes.”

“No,” Dick and Damian say in unison.

The trio leaves the room angrily and, within the hour, clipboards with signup sheets begin being mysteriously adhered to all of the main rooms.

***

Jason has made it a point, nearly every day, to remind everyone that he will be the easiest adjusted to quarantine because he is the only true introvert.

The number of times the words introvert and isolated have left his mouth climb so high that, in secret, everyone is beginning to doubt the truth to them. If he is an introvert to the exponential extremes that he professes, surely he would not need to keep finding where everyone else is hiding to let them know it.

He has an alternating list of Zoom calls he is on each day. Hangouts he makes himself, making a point to inform the others quarantined to the manor than they are not invited to it.

The list of who is invited to it seems to grow by the day.

Kyle Rayner, Donna Troy, Ryan Choi. Then Roy Harper, Koriand'r, and Jade Nguyen. Then Artemis, Bizarro, and Miguel Barragan. Out of nowhere Duela Dent, Rose Wilson, and Suzie Su.

It’s halfway into the second week and Jason has the audacity to come into Tim’s room, pull off his headphones, and ask him if he’s bored.

“You know what I think,” Tim says, more than a little irritated. “I think you’re actually not an introvert. I think you’re not an introvert and you’re taking out your need for social contact out on the rest of us.”

Jason considers his comment, then breaks the expensive Beats in half before walking out the door.

***

Alfred begins making many desserts.

It starts with requests. Of course he will make whatever meal or whatever treat is asked of him, because it is nice to have all his loved ones safe, secure, and in the same location for once. Many of the desserts aren’t even difficult.

Then, somehow, they morph into bribes.

Despite the fact that Alfred has remained tight-lipped about his exact age for all these years, the quote-unquote children insist that he is too old to venture out of quarantine. Thus he must stay in the manor and rely on them to stock the pantry.

This doesn’t seem altogether terrible until it becomes obvious to Alfred that whoever he sends out will only get the foodstuffs they desire and not any of the important staples Alfred puts on the list.

Thus, the trades begin.

He can’t make his famous flan without evaporated milk. He positively will not make ginger layer cake without wine poached pears. And how can they snack on peach and pistachio tarts without honey?

Before Alfred has realized it, he has created monsters. Sugar craved, bored little monsters.

He puts a limit on the sweets he will cook in hopes of focusing instead on cooking favorite meals, but it’s too late.

Even Bruce is checking in on the kitchen at odd hours, looking curiously under the cake plate.

And cutting back the number of sweets Alfred is producing through the week also leads to another unforeseen circumstance.

They begin competing for what sweets are left.

***

Bruce looks in disbelief at the screen. Then he looks at the others. Then back to the screen.

“I distinctly remember us being on episode four,” Bruce says in a voice that edges on Batman.

“Last night, yeah,” Duke agrees, helping Alfred with everyone’s drinks.

No one else seems to find fault with the statement and are waiting for Bruce to continue. They pick at their independent devices lazily, only half attentive to any one thing.

It’s very dissatisfying considering the huge inconsistency that Bruce is detecting on their streaming service.

“Why is it saying that we’ve watched all the episodes already?” Bruce demands, voice sounding more hurt than he meant to let on.

Dick and Barbara simultaneously look up from their phones, toward each other, then back down. The others don’t even bother breaking their concentrations.

“You finished the entire series without me?” Bruce presses.

“Father,” Damian finally speaks up, sounding exasperated, “it is impossible to properly view things with you.”

Bruce squints at his youngest. “What does that mean?”

“It’s not just you, Bruce,” Stephanie says quickly, trying to smooth things over. “I can’t watch shows with my mom either.”

“Boomers just don’t know how to binge-watch,” Tim cuts with the final blow, not even looking up from his laptop.

Leaving the room in spite of protests, Bruce decides he is never going to watch the end of the show out of spite.

***

Cassandra has apparently made it a habit to not let others see her walk through doorways. As a result, she seemingly appears in rooms more than she enters them. Or, at the very least, she acts as though she just always has been and it is the other party who is intruding on her space.

As a result, it’s not altogether shocking when Duke looks up from his newly prepared plate and is met by his sister.

She is staring at his plate more than him.

“Oh, hey, Sis,” he offers her all the same. Then, instinctively, he shifts his shoulders to somewhat create a barrier between his plate and her. “What’s up?”

“Apple pie,” Cass announces as if it answers everything.

“Mmhmm,” Duke replies cautiously.

“Last piece?” she asks, her eyes gleaming.

“I’m sure Alfred will make another,” Duke says, then, slowly adding, “eventually.”

“Mine,” she snaps.

“No, you don’t even eat yours with vanilla ice cream!” Duke argues back, almost turning his back on her completely. “Just eat some of the cookies.”

“No!” Cass says, quickly shifting to be more aligned with the treat. “You eat them.”

“Cass, I got here first!” Duke snaps back, hooking afoot around the leg of the nearest chair. “Fair and square.”

“It was my pie,” Cass hisses. “I’ll take it back!”

“Is that a challenge?” Duke asks.

He sees her lunging and immediately kicks out the leg of the chair as he flips over it.

Cassandra is quick as ever and easily somersaults off of the falling chair to land over Duke’s shoulders. Her force is enough to send Duke’s body tumbling forward, but his body has proper instincts. He holds up the plate of pie above all else while using his free hand to find new ground, twirl his body out, and roll his head forward. Cass tumbles off his shoulders.

She hits the counters, but not before kicking off her shoe and sending it flying for Duke’s face.

He twists enough to lighten some of the impact, but the well-aimed shoe sends Duke into a tailspin.

The pie hits the floor with a sickening thud.

The siblings look crestfallen toward the prize, then each other.

Then they get angry.

By the time Barbara and Alfred burst onto the scene to break things up, the fight has utterly devolved and grown to the size of five Wayne heirs, three of which had no idea what the initial fight was even over.

Jason filmed it and sent it to everyone in his extended Zoom call list.

***

They are at each other’s throats. It turns out the Manor doesn’t have enough rooms.

Even Alfred’s treats are not enough to soothe the tensions anymore. Any little thing can set them off. So they spend the rest of the week finding solitary activities, barely communicating with words anymore.

Finally, some wounds begin to heal when Stephanie speaks to a room of others on their Switches.

“Hey, does anybody have an island with cherries?”

They play in harmony again, comparing villagers in hushed tones and sharing patterns for clothes.

Momentarily, there is hope that the peace will last forever, to the rhythm of island music and Blathers’ gibberish words.

It gives them twenty-seven hours of peace and nothing more.

***

“This absolutely will not work,” Barbara sputters as she pulls up to the table.

The others look at her with mild surprise, but they’re already seated. Jason is shuffling in preparation to deal. The arrangement from his left on is Stephanie, Cassandra, Barbara herself, Dick, Duke, Tim, and then Damian.

Damian is flanked by Jason and Tim. And only Barbara sees what the problem with this is.

“I am looking at a public safety hazard,” Barbara presses. “Dick, seriously, you’re going to let them do this?”

He thinks about it. “It’s a learning experience,” he determines.

“You dealing in or nah, Red?” Jason pushes.

She glares at them all, certain this is purposeful on at least some of their behalves, but she crosses her arms. “Okay, fine,” she says.

Jason deals out seven to everyone. Once he puts the deck in the middle, he turns over the first Uno card — green three — and with his free hand reaches in his jacket pocket for cigarettes. The others are already playing while Jason looks slightly miffed if not panicked when he can’t find the pack.

Under the table, Barbara can feel the shuffle of a pack of cigarettes being passed between other members of the table.

Shockingly enough, Jason doesn’t say anything verbally, but his eyes are already glaring at Damian as the pickpocket.

Stephanie puts down green nine.

Cassandra green Draw Two.

Barbara draws two.

Dick puts down a yellow Draw Two.

“No fair,” Duke chuckles.

Tim puts down a yellow Reverse.

Damian narrows his eyes. “You think you’re clever, don’t you, Drake?”

Duke yellow eight.

Yellow four.

Yellow two.

Blue two.

Blue three.

Blue Reverse.

Damian glares at Jason. “Is this planned?”

“How can they plan Uno, Dami?” Steph asks. Blue one.

Blue seven.

Barbara looks over her glasses at the table. She’s lost track of the cigarettes. “Don’t underestimate these people, Stephanie,” she warns as the ends up drawing five cards before finally laying down green seven.

Green nine.

Wild Card. “Let’s go with,” Duke looks through his hand cautiously, “Yellow again.”

There is a suspicious twitch to Tim’s lips as he puts down a Draw Four. “Let’s go back to red.”

Damian releases an explosion of expletives and leaps to stand on his chair.

“Ah, it was a mistake, my bad,” Dick says, rubbing a hand down his face.

***

Bruce is stone-faced at dinner, strangely fixated on his plate.

It’s not overly concerning, Bruce tends to be in quiet contemplation on most days regardless.

He finally looks up, though, and glares at them all.

“I finished it on my own,” he informs them.

They all stare back.

“Tiger King,” he clarifies. “They’re all guilty. But also. What the hell.”

Everyone collectively loses their minds again.

Alfred sighs and begins drafting a rotation for getting them all out of the manor more.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: The Riddler

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

Look, I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. I completely and totally forgot this one.

In my defense, Batman Forever is probably my least favorite Batman film. I don’t find Val Kilmer did a good job, Robin isn’t super great and it’s clear Joel Schumacher didn’t know what he was trying to go for quite yet (I am an unashamed fan of this film’s followup, for the record). But there is a silver lining that keeps me from hating the movie: the villains. And in particular one villain, one villain who is just a glorious, over-the-top beacon so shiny I have no idea how he slipped my mind when writing up the Psycho Analysis for Robotnik: The Riddler.

Batman is well known for his fantastic rogues’ gallery; in fact, Batman may have the best and most colorful one in all of comics, or at the very least tied with Spider-Man. These villains tend to translate well to film, and everyone’s favorite green-clad egomaniac the Riddler is no exception; as I said before, he is the single best thing in Batman Forever. In fact, this version of Riddler is SO good that he’s inspired almost every interpretation of Riddler after to some degree, most notably Wally Wingert’s portrayal of the character in the Arkham series. And how did he become so influential, you may ask?

Heaping helpings of Grade-A Carrey ham.

Motivation/Goals: Edward Nygma was a big fan of Bruce Wayne, and pitched him a an idea for a device that would be able to beam television into people’s brains. However, Bruce doesn’t give him an immediate yes or no, as he believes the device is a bit too close to mind control, so Nygma becomes bitter, resentful, and begins heading down his criminal path, teaming up with Two-Face to get the money to mass-produce his brainwave device. Nygma’s ultimate goal is to drain all the world’s intelligence so that he can be the smartest one of all. And in true Riddler fashion, he pulls this plan off in the most convoluted ways possible and leaves crazy riddles for Batman to solve, even at some points deciding against killing Batman when it would be easy because it’s just so much more fun to put him through the wringer with needlessly complex tricks and traps.

And, I mean, he’s right.

It helps a lot that his evil scheme, in which he, a rich tech developer, creates a product that works under the guise of entertaining the masses but in reality is stealing their personal information for his own use is extremely relevant in this day and age, what with social media and all that. His scheme is a lot more biting nowadays than it ever was in the 90s.

Performance: This is Jim Carrey in his prime is portraying Riddler, and so you know just what to expect: manic energy, wacky faces, and tons of craziness. The 90s were a great time for fun and funny Carrey performances, and he injected a sort of energy into a character who tended to be nothing more than a thief with a complexity addiction prior, at least when it came to comics, while still keeping that ridiculous addiction, just putting it on a grander scale. If I’m being totally honest, Carrey’s Riddler is actually funnier than the Joker, if only because he’s almost like a cartoon character come to life. Despite all that, this Riddler is actually seriously dangerous; he does find out Bruce Wayne and Batman are one and the same, after all.

Final Fate: Batman overloads Nygma’s machine, which causes him to get an overload and fry the little sanity he had left. While he is still alive by film’s end, he’s gone bonkers and completely forgotten Bruce’s identity.

Best Scene: Easily his destruction of the Batcave. I don’t know what’s more impressive, the fact that Riddler is doing this, or the fact that you can clearly see Jim Carrey’s bulge several times in this scene.

Best Quote: Here’s a line that contains so much ludicrous self-awareness that it’s funny even if you don’t know the context: “ Was that over the top? I can never tell.” 

If you want context... yes. He was being over the top. It’s 90s Jim Carrey, it goes without saying.

Final Thoughts & Score: The Riddler is one of Carrey’s best early performances, regardless of the quality of the rest of the film. In fact, like Bane much later, he is a Batman villain far too good for the film he’s in, easily stealing the show every time he’s onscreen. He’s just an absolute blast to watch, and it helps that he actually has seriously great chemistry with Tommy Lee Jones as Two-Face. Those two are an absolute riot together.

In a lot of ways, he’s an unrefined precursor to the legendary performance that is Robotnik. Much like Robotnik, the Riddler is loud, hammy, ridiculous, a technological genius, loves dancing about like a loon, and despite it all is a competent threat, masking his true evil behind his outward goofiness. Like I said though, it’s a bit unrefined; I can easily see why some would feel that Carrey is a bit much here, because he really does crank the dial all the way up to 11 for this role. It’s pretty telling that Arnold Schwarzenegger and Uma Thurman’s performances in Batman & Robin feel restrained compared to Carrey here.

Still, I think a lot of charm would be lost if you tried to tone down the hamminess. Look at The Amazing Spider-Man 2’s Electro, who shamelessly ripped off Nygma; he tried to go for a more serious take on Edward Nygma, and ended up being yet another sin those awful Andrew Garfield films can carry on their back into the land of failed franchises. A weird stalkerish fanboy turned into a megalomaniac super villain can only truly be a super villain if he has the one thing that makes a villain truly super, as determined by our lord and savior Megamind: PRESENTATION. And boy, does Riddler ever know how to present!

So riddle me this: what sort of score does a performance this good deserve? I’d say a 9/10. Not much of a riddle, honestly, and I did consider bumping him down to an 8… but I think this Riddler has enough good going for him that it makes up for any shortcomings. The fact he would inspire elements used in pretty much every later Riddler, such as the one in the Arkham series, is just icing on the cake; this Riddler is just one mad lad, and we love him for it.

[96thdayofrage]

WAR DAY 7️⃣1️⃣0️⃣3️⃣ 🍵 "Secretary of State Anthony Blinken might have been 'outraged' by a rocket attack on a U.S. base in northern Iraq – that killed a foreign contractor and wounded an American service member and several other contractors – but he shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, it’s the muddled US military mission and on-going troop presence itself that creates nearly all the conditions for current crisis. That this particular truth tablet might be rather uncomfortable to swallow doesn’t make it any less so.

"If Blinken’s boss needs proof, he might consider applying what we could call his very own 'Biden Rule:' that staffers should avoid overly academic or elitist language in memos or policy papers. 'Pick up your phone, call your mother, read her what you just told me,' he reportedly tells aides – 'If she understands, we can keep talking.' Well, does Joe really think most American mothers, or fathers, or other lay citizens, could honestly explain just what the heck US troops are doing – and may well die doing – in Iraq, almost 18 years after George W. Bush’s initial invasion? Give us a break! All that Washington wish-wash about avoiding ISIS-resurgence, 'building partner capacity,' and balancing Iran, is liable to get even a hometown boy like Biden laughed out of a Scranton pub.

"Nevertheless, such attacks could very well derail Biden’s announced intent to reestablish Obama’s Iran nuclear deal, or even lead to a military escalation. After all, earlier this week, NATO agreed to an eight-fold increase in troops for its training and advisory mission in Iraq, and Secretary Blinken has himself begun a review America’s Iraq policy – to include feedback from the Pentagon – which may reach the White House as early as next month.

"There’ve actually been three separate rocket attacks on US bases in Iraq over the last week, one targeting each of country’s distinct communal regions – Erbil in semi-autonomous Kurdistan, another on Balad in mostly Sunni Salah al-Din Province, and lastly on the Green Zone in Shia-heavy (especially since the 2005-08 civil war’s ethnic cleansings) Baghdad. It seems American troops and – more on this soon – contractors still aren’t safe anywhere inside Iraq.

"Odd, that, since I recall plenty past (premature) pronouncements that 'the surge worked,' and that 'we have defeated ISIS.' Well, the first [surge success] bit was always a farce, and, while the second suggestion is basically true – despite mop-up-ops that Iraqi and invested regional forces can handle – it ain’t ISIS that’s set to take the blame for the recently raining rockets. No, that supervillain stature shall – as ever – belong to Iran."

Bogus Boogyman Iran

"Iranophobia and Tehran-alarmism are gifts that keep on giving – if mostly to the likes of Lockheed and Raytheon – in Washington. Only there’s hardly any basis to the threat. The whole thing’s political theater, a false binary blame game meant for domestic consumption and signal-sending to America’s Israeli and Gulf Monarchy mates. Thing is, real people die behind such drama.

"It all starts with what should be suspicious certainty of bipartisan policymakers and media pundits that Tehran’s tugging all the rocket-flingers’ strings. Take Ned Price, spokesman for Biden’s polite liberal State Department. He said, after Monday’s attack on Baghdad’s Green Zone that the US holds Iran responsible for the recent rocket spurt. Then there’s Trump’s former assistant secretary of state for Middle East policy, David Schenker, who was sure – after the initial Erbil attack – that: 'Ultimately, this is all about Iran – the missiles, the weaponry, the funding, the direction all comes from Tehran.' Then again, it’s always worth considering the source. In this case, Mr. Schenker is now a senior fellow at the Washington Institute for Near East Policy – which is known for its fiercely and uncritically pro-Israel stance, and was initially funded by the Israel Lobby-top dog AIPAC’s donors, staffed by AIPAC employees, and originally located just one door away from AIPAC’s D.C. headquarters.

"Then throw in Douglas Silliman, formerly US ambassador to Iraq from 2016 to 2019, who asserted after the Erbil attack: 'I have no doubt who’s behind it. It is the Iranian-supported Iraqi Shia militias who are behind this.' Only here again an astute observer must channel the street-wisdom of Queens’ own rapper 50 Cent and thus – 'step up in' the Washington 'club' and ask 'Who you wit?' In Silliman’s case, it isn’t 'G-Unit' but the Arab Gulf States Institute that’s now his post-government service 'clique.' In fact, he’s president of the damn thing. Keep an eye on that, it might matter – seeing as from the think tank’s 2015 inception, it was funded entirely by UAE and Saudi sources. You know, it’s enough to make you wonder whether Silliman’s Gulf autocrat paymasters – locked as they are in perennial quasi-war with Iran – might have some investment (pun intended) in having ol' Doug pin the latest bombs-over-Baghdad squarely on Tehran.

"Still, setting such conflicts of interest aside for the sake of argument, both Schenker’s and Silliman’s Iran-the-omniscient assertions strike as just a little too neat, too convenient for Washington’s hovering hawks. Maybe these specific guns did flow from Iran; maybe they didn’t. However, Tehran’s aren’t the only tools available. Iraq has long been awash with weapons, as anyone who ever walked a Baghdad beat – or frightened a few families with aggressive late-night house searches – knows all too well.

"Furthermore, despite Washington’s bipartisan propensity to 'create the enemies it needs' [in order to reap profits and power, that is] – by fabricating foes that seem ten-feet-tall and bulletproof – the truth is Iran hasn’t half the armed strength, or clear control over Iraqi proxies, as the hawks would have you believe. On the military side, Tehran’s mostly weak and unable to project any real power very far at all. Furthermore, as I noted in a 2019 Defense Priorities analysis, Iran’s American-allied regional antagonists – Turkey, Israel, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, and the UAE, for example – militarily outspend Tehran by a factor of ten!

"As for Iran’s ostensibly ironclad grip on the Iraqi militias allegedly launching all them rockets – if not exactly a mirage, the situation is definitely far more complex and ambiguous than all that. This much even some senior military officers occasionally admit. For example, after the Erbil attack, the U.S.-led coalition’s counter-ISIS mission deputy commander for strategy, British Army Major General Kevin Copsey, surmised that the fusillade was likely the work of an offshoot, not the core, of the mainline militias typically linked to Tehran. He also noted the crucial – if oft-ignored – concept of local agency: that paramilitaries and their associated politicians pursue personal motives and interests when deciding whether to take violent action.

"Copsey described it thus: 'You have your main militia groups, which arguably have their influence back into Tehran, and then you have these splinter groups that are self-interested. And they’re unpredictable and they’re out of control.' Allow me to surmise that the key words there are 'arguably,' 'self-interested,' and 'unpredictable.' In rebellions, proxy conflicts, and civil wars, matters are rarely clear, and always contingent.

"Here’s the basic rub: The ill-advised and illegal 2003 US military invasion caused most of the current madness; Trump’s 'maximum pressure' sanctions and saber-rattling predictably and demonstrably backfired; Iran’s offensive military capacity is actually rather limited and wildly exaggerated. Yet the one weapon it does have – as do the militias Tehran may or may not have sway over – are several variants of ballistic and cruise missiles.

"To review, then: America’s murky, no-exit, mission plays right into Tehran’s only viable military hands – not only strengthening the hardliners in their government, but turning our ever-adulated soldiers into little more than bewildered rocket-magnets."

Context Counts

"If Biden bolsters the US military’s anti-Iran proxy combat mission – which masquerades as ISIS-elimination – it will, by my count, constitute the fifth phase of America’s 30+ year war on or in Iraq. Call it Iraq War IV. Kind of has a nice ring to it, and ask any movie producer – sequels sell, even if they usually make for awful art (Godfather II aside, naturally). The cost of the running franchise has been fatal for some 2.5 million Iraqis – bombed, shot, starved, or diseased – over those three old school-imperial decades.

"Here on the tail end, in January 2020, the Iraqi government’s American friends went so far as to assassinate the top Iranian political and military figure Qasem Suleimani – on Iraqi soil, without informing the Baghdad government – thereby challenging and insulting Iraqi sovereignty. This triggered (imagine that) a not yet broken wave of political fury within both neighboring countries. In response, the Iraqi parliament voted to require the government to 'end any foreign presence on Iraqi soil and prevent the use of Iraqi airspace, soil and water for any reason' by foreign troops.

"Washington promptly ignored the democratic will of the Iraqi democracy it claimed to have built via its absurdly titled 'Operation Iraqi Freedom' 2003 invasion. There may (for now) be only 2,500 uniformed Americans in country, but these days, a big part of what’s long-bothered average Iraqis is Washington’s use of sundry – and often unhinged – civilian security contractors to do much of the occupying."

Mercenary Camouflage

"Given the tortured track record of America’s mercenary misadventures, perhaps Iraqis can be forgiven their frustration with the ongoing US presence in their country. Anger tends to come in waves and flared again last month, when dear Donald pardoned four American security contractors – from the infamous Blackwater outfit – for their roles in massacring 17 Iraqi civilians around Baghdad’s Nisour Square in 2007. I was in town for that sick show, and we in uniform sure felt some of the understandable blowback. Clearly, American policymakers aren’t exactly known for their self-awareness. Still, it hardly seems as outrageous as Secretary Blinken claimed that some locals might fling a few rockets at a few foreigner bases – and many more countrymen view it as legitimate resistance – when their own government’s Washingtonian 'friends' just let four Iraqi-child-killers off the hook. I don’t know, call me crazy.

"Either way, all this raises the not-so-minor matter of America’s shadowy security contracting apparatus in Iraq – an occupation-outsourcing as old as the adventure itself. The combat and logistics privatization factor is exposed in the composition of casualties in these ubiquitous rocket attacks. Over the last few years, more often than not the majority of the dead and injured have been contractors. For example, Saturday night’s strike on Balad airbase reportedly wounded a South African – I know, a bit on the nose for the mercenary game – employee of the US defense company Sallyport.

"This subsidiary of Caliburn International LLC – which has no less than five retired generals and admirals on its board, including former Trump White House chief of staff John Kelly and former Bush-era CIA director Michael Hayden – had been contracted to provide base services supporting Iraq’s F-16 fighter program. Caliburn is perhaps better known for another of its subsidiaries operating America’s largest facility for unaccompanied migrant children. However, as of 2018, the US government had reportedly paid Sallyport itself over $1 billion since 2014 to provide security, life support, and various training at Balad Air Base.

"There, Sallyport has been mired in past scandal. In 2019, a Daily Beast report indicated that The Department of Justice was investigating the company’s earlier alleged role in bribing Iraqi government officials in exchange for contracts costing American taxpayers billions. The Daily Beast’s earlier 2017 investigation also exposed that a clique of white South African security guards – the very nationality of the employee reportedly wounded in the recent rocket strike – had been promoting apartheid and abusing Sallyport’s minority members (along, apparently, with the base’s local dogs). By the way, the irony of Washington – amidst an era of renewed racial turmoil at home – hiring thousands of ex-apartheid soldiers to man its conflicts across the Middle East and North Africa: well, it almost defies imagination.

"So sure, there are key – if rarely reported – contractor connections to the recent rocket attacks. Yet, widening the aperture reveals far the broader and systemic mercenary madness masking – and underpinning – America’s entire enterprise in Iraq and the Greater Middle East. And unless Status Quo Joe, and a largely bought & sold (by defense industry campaign contributions) Congress, address this invisible enemy, then messing at the margins with uniformed boots-on-the-ground counts won’t measurably alter America’s two-decade-old regional adventure-fiasco. Oh, and speaking of those masters of the military-industrial complex contributions to the very congressmen with the power to end this entire hopeless crusade – recall that the F-16s Sallyport secures for the Iraqi Air Force are produced by Lockheed Martin. In the 2018 midterm elections alone, Lockheed bestowed $2,865,014 in blood money on the Capitol Hill crew.

"Only that ain’t the half of it. Consider the scale of the US contractor apparatus, by-the-numbers: In 2019, the Pentagon spent $370 billion on contracting – in other words, more than half its total discretionary spending. By the DOD’s own reckoning – during 1st quarter of FY21 – that translates to 38,164 contractor personnel supporting Pentagon operations in just the US Central Command (CENTCOM) area of responsibility (AOR – from essentially Egypt to Afghanistan). That includes 4,677 in the Iraq-Syria sub-theater – 2,300 of them American citizens. Which is to say, contractors now maintain more than a 2 to 1 ratio over US military members in the CENTCOM sphere.

"There’s a design, and a cost, to all this. According to her June 2020 report, what Heidi Peltier of Brown University’s Cost of War Initiative called the contracting 'Camo Economy,' has been used by the US government to conceal the costs – in cash, killing, and American blood – of its endless, meandering, military missions. The proof is in the mortality pudding: since 2001, some 8,000 US contractors have died in America’s Greater Mideast adventures – that’s actually more than the Pentagon’s official tally of 7,056 uniformed troop deaths.

"That few people know this, exposes its enduring political utility. A one minute Google search offers precise, to-a-man and up-to-date, statistics on US military deaths – but I wouldn’t wish the required Department of Labor archive-mining to find contractor casualty details on my worst enemy. Take it from me, it’s a maddening enough rabbit-hole-spiral to garner a grin from Kafka. And, as matters now stand, more deaths of those once invisible contractors could end up pulling the US into yet another phase of hopeless, wasteful war in Iraq. Now that’d deserve the American foreign policy tragicomedy award for 2021.

"Look, I like context and nuance as much as the next guy, but sometimes the simplicity of 'Sutton’s Law' – a medical mantra that, when diagnosing, one should first test for the obvious – is the best policy prescription. The dictate derives from real-life famed criminal folk hero Willie Sutton, who when asked why he robbed banks, replied – perhaps apocryphally – 'Because that’s where the money is!' It’s a hell of a story, the sort Biden’s sure to like.

"And in a sense, it tracks today’s mess. Ask an ayatollah or a local militiaman why he allegedly attacks US bases in Iraq – and a clever one might accurately quip: 'Because that’s where the Americans are!'

"In other words…because we’re there."

###

Danny Sjursen is a retired US Army officer, senior fellow at the Center for International Policy (CIP), contributing editor at Antiwar.com, and director of the new Eisenhower Media Network (EMN). His work has appeared in the NY Times, LA Times, The Nation, Huff Post, The Hill, Salon, The American Conservative, Mother Jones, Scheer Post and Tom Dispatch, among other publications. He served combat tours in Iraq and Afghanistan and later taught history at West Point. He is the author of a memoir and critical analysis of the Iraq War, Ghostriders of Baghdad: Soldiers, Civilians, and the Myth of the Surge, and Patriotic Dissent: America in the Age of Endless War. Along with fellow vet Chris "Henri" Henriksen, he co-hosts the podcast “Fortress on a Hill.” Follow him on Twitter @SkepticalVet and on his website for media requests and past publications.

_____

🍵 All Risk, No Reward: The Perils and Absurdity of Iraq War 4.0. By Maj. Danny Sjursen, USA (ret.), Antiwar.com, Feb. 25, 2021.

https://original.antiwar.com/Danny_Sjursen/2021/02/24/all-risk-no-reward-the-perils-and-absurdity-of-iraq-war-4-0/?fbclid=IwAR0URXJQNDvEP5zpVqk6hlEiAGapknSZ6vhg5jHMZ_1nI-Zg7Y0h3uyuRjk

[shittyysimblr]

DAY THIRTEEN: THE GALA PART 2 (FRANKIE 1/2)

@signal-echo

[Captions under cut]

start || next || now

FRANKIE: *deep inhale*

CYRUS: Hey, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.

FRANKIE: Yeah, sorry. It’s uh- it’s a lot.

CYRUS: Yeah, sorry.

FRANKIE: No, I’m just not used to so many... uh, interesting, people in one room.

CYRUS: *chuckles* Interesting is a kind way of putting it. You should talk to Jhony Ki before the nights out. I think you’d like him.

FRANKIE: He’s your producer friend, right?

CYRUS: Yeah. Actually, I’ll go find him. I’m sure he’s tired of all the posturing too.

FRANKIE: I’ll be here.

*few minutes*

JC: Oh. My. God! You’re Frankie!! Love the dress!

FRANKIE: Uhmm thank you...? Do I know you?

JC: No. Well probably not? I don’t know, do you know me?!

FRANKIE: Pretty sure I don’t.

JC: Oh poo… Well I know you! The last girl standing! That’s got to feel amazing. I can’t believe that other girl, what was her name? Jamie? June? I don’t know something like that. I can’t believe that she walked out like that!

FRANKIE: You mean Julianna? She had her reasons…

JC: Well if you ask me, she was stupid. Cyrus is sooooo sexy! But I don’t need to tell YOU that! *giggles*

FRANKIE: So you’re a fan of Cyrus?

JC: I guess you could say that.

BELLA: Oh JC please stop bothering the poor girl. Your energy is just exhausting.

JC: Oh hey Bella. Have you been watching the show too?

BELLA: Heh, no. But my daughter loves it. I think she has a little bit of a crush if we’re being honest.

JC: She’ll have to get in line!

FRANKIE: *chuckles* Seems like I’ll have to fight for my spot, even if I win.

BELLA: Now that he’s renounced that awful childish behaviour, I’m sure he’ll be like catnip to all the right people in town. Better watch yourself.

FRANKIE: I think I can hold my own ok. I’ve done pretty well so far.

BELLA: Yes, but I’m talking about real competition darling. People of proper means and breeding. People like Cyrus. He is a King after all. Even if his family has… distanced themselves from him. Names mean a great deal. I hope you’re ready for that.

FRANKIE: Like I said. I can hold my own.

BELLA: I’m sure you can.

CYRUS: Hello ladies, mind if I steal her away from you?

BELLA: You’re not even going to properly greet your guests?

CYRUS: My apologises. How are you finding the evening so far, Isabella?

BELLA: It is a beautiful event, darling. And a very worthy cause to support. My family will be matching whatever the Kings donate, of course.

CYRUS: That is very generous of you, as always. I believe my sister is here this evening. If I see her, I’ll send her your way so you may have a figure.

BELLA: Oh, I’ve spoken with her already. She’s also looking for you.

CYRUS: I’ll make sure to see her before the night is out.

BELLA: Be sure that you do. Always a pleasure, Cyrus.

CYRUS: Likewise. Be sure to give my regards to your family.

BELLA: Of course. You should come by the house some time. Cassandra would love to see you.

CYRUS: Next time I’m in the area, I will.

BELLA: I’ll hold you to that. Now if you’ll excuse me.

JC: Where are you going? Can I come??

CYRUS: And deprive us of your wonderful company?

JC: Oh! I would never!! But weren’t you going somewhere??

CYRUS: It can wait a moment.

JC: Oh aren’t you a doll! I should have applied for the show!

CYRUS: You flatter me, but didn’t you just finish shooting something?

JC: I did! Your beautiful friend here doesn’t know who I am though, so obviously I have a ways to go.. *giggles*

FRANKIE: Oh! I didn’t--!

CYRUS: This is JC. She’s an actress. In every sense of the word.

JC: All the world’s a stage, darling.

FRANKIE: I’m sorry. I don’t watch many movies. I think the last thing I saw in theatres was The Dark Knight.

CYRUS: Wait, seriously? So you just haven’t seen anything since 2008?!

FRANKIE: I’ve seen stuff! I’m just not super up to date on what’s popular. Besides I don’t really pay attention to celebrities.

CYRUS: Good thing I’m not a celebrity then.

JC: Oh shut up! You’re more famous then I’ll ever be! I bet you’ve got like 50 stalkers at this party.

CYRUS: Oh, you mean the press? Yeah, they’re outside.

JC: Cute, talented, and funny. And rich to boot! You really are perfect, aren’t you?

CYRUS: Well thank you. But I’m far from it. But if you’ll excuse us, Jhony is waiting for us somewhere and I still have to speak with my sister at some point.

JC: Of course! Of course! We’ll catch up later then.

[a-simple-imagine]

Stay With Me

Synopsis: Y/N tries to convince Rose to give up on Abra (Set during the events of the movie Doctor Sleep)

Pairing: Rose the Hat x True Knot member fem!reader

Words: 3k

A/N - I’m told I shouldn’t be in love with Rose the Hat because she like tortures kids or whatever but I see that as like a minor flaw. My new calling in life is writing Rose the Hat stories for a niche market of one

Warnings - Swearing, sexual themes, blood, mentions of violence, murder and pain. Doctor Sleep spoilers I guess??

It had been years and yet you could recall the day she turned you like it was yesterday. From Crow Daddy abducting you to waking up in a bed you didn't recognise. A place you didn't recognise. You remember the fear that coursed through your veins as she approached you. Her bracelets jangling with each step. Her style was very bohemian; it suited her well. A hat sat on top of her mangled brown locks. A cup steamed between her palms. She didn't look like a creepy psychopath, in fact, she was probably the most beautiful woman you had ever seen but looks could be deceiving and you could sense her intentions weren't pure. Ever since you were little you had been able to sense danger. It always started as a weird pull deep in your stomach. The closer the connection to the person the more intense it would become and this woman was like a bright red warning sign. However, every word that came out of her mouth was calculated but gentle. She spoke with such care that it was weird to experience. This woman sat down next to you, her eyes drifting over you. She smelt... earthy? Not in a bad way, it was intoxicating. She made you an offer that you couldn't refuse unless you wanted to be their dinner. The ritual that followed caused pain so intense you felt like your head was about to explode. Every cell in your body burning you alive. Trying to destroy you. She told you it wouldn't hurt; no fear but this was horrifying. Fingertips pressed into your skin as she tried to keep you focused as you writhed around. Nails scraping the ground like it would somehow help. Tears streamed down your face as your grip on reality faded away; desperate for a breath of fresh air. To this very day, you've never felt anything quite like that and you never wanted to again. It was perhaps a fate worse than death. 

Eat Well. Live long.

Things had certainly changed since then. It had taken you a lot of soul searching to adjust to being part of the True Knot but over time they had become your family. You still didn't quite have the stomach for snatching children or the atrocities that followed but you had come to understand that the world wasn't so black and white. Most of life sat in the grey area in between. With lives as long as yours and connections vast, consequences no longer existed. The shine was a rarity that was purest in children. The steam they produce is vital for your survival, it's nothing more than hunting for food. Rubes kill animals for food what’s the difference? Or at least that's how you rationalised the situation. Maybe you had just become numb to it all. You personally never actually hurt anyone. Rose had always had a sort of soft spot for you and you liked to use it to your advantage. She had never forced you to do anything you didn't want to which was primarily all the sadistic, gritty tasks. However, you would do the grocery shopping whenever somebody asked or you enjoyed cooking so big meals were never an issue. Why you still ate normal food was beyond you but they got a kick out of it. Helping with the day to day tasks made you feel like you were still helping out. It was unsurprisingly hard to watch somebody you were so utterly enthralled with do such horrid things. Often you'd find yourself diverting your eyes only to hear the cries of terror. Pain purifies steam so does fear. You don't understand why but it was part of the process. You could practically feel the pleasure she derived from it in every shotgun kiss shared between the two of you. The embraces could be considered magical. They made your heart melt and tasted like the greatest thing in the world; always left you craving more steam and craving her. She was always so intimate with you and over time you let yourself fall so stupidly in love with a complete monster. Rose the Hat was many things. She could be described as evil, manipulative, even intimidatingly disgusting. She had done awful things that your heart seemed to so easily ignore just because she was also rather charming. She genuinely cared for the people in her life; she was almost motherly towards them. And she was certainly very easy on the eyes. You adored her in ways you had never experienced before.

"You doin' okay, my sweet?" Rose's voice drifts into your ears bringing a small smile to your lips. You glance back at her from your spot on the edge of the watchtower, swaying your legs in a repetitive motion. She was in her usual spot, legs crossed for meditation. She looked so pretty and peaceful.

"Mhmm. Just thinking about life." You admit softly, turning back to nature. You enjoyed being up here. Rose, on the other hand, didn't like it so much when you disturbed her and often you'd respect her authority. But sometimes you came up here when she wasn't too busy or just to relax alone. It helped clear your head when you watched the others. That smile faded away as you feel a pit in your stomach grow. You had been sitting on an uneasy feeling for a while now but you had decided against telling her. The sole reason for staying behind was to comfort her the way she always did for you. Before you could warn her,  Rose just started groaning uncomfortably loud. Scrambling up, you rush to her side. Whatever was happening, she seemed to be in excruciating pain. Shit, she was probably gonna be mad that you didn't warn her. With such a faint feeling, you never expected anything major. Maybe the lack of steam was affecting you more than you thought. When she finally calmed down, she remained still breathing heavily. You placed your hand on her back but she shoved you away, climbing down the ladder. You follow quickly behind her; keeping a reasonable distance between the two of you.

"Crow has her." She growls; a bitter unforgiving anger laced in her otherwise beautiful voice. "The others... didn't make it."

Your brow furrows but you don't dare ask what happened. It had become pretty clear anyway so there wasn’t a need for details. You cautiously walk up behind her, wrapping her in your arms and placing a chaste kiss against her back. In response, she took one of your hands and brought it to her lips. "I..." Trailing off before so much as a full word is uttered, you hesitate to continue. You can't imagine she'll like what you have to say even with the best of intentions. "Rosie... I'm glad you stayed behind."

Her body tenses and you instantly regret having said anything at all. It was completely selfish and yet still so still true. The others were like family but your connection with them was nothing compared to your feelings for Rose. Although You had struck up quite a bond with snakebite Andi. Forcing her way out of your grip, she disappears into her Earth Camper and you decide not to follow her just yet. Instead, plopping down on a fold-out chair, you stare up at the pink and purple hues that coloured the sky. If you just left her alone, maybe she would calm down a little. You can't even begin to imagine how she must be feeling right now having endured all that. You still felt sick which wasn't a good sign. If you were at full strength maybe you could have predicted this but Rose was right in saying you haven't been eating well. Not for a long time. You finally work up the courage to go inside, peeking your head in first before barging in. Your lover was just sitting there staring out the window into the woods. She sighs loudly. "What's gonna happen to him?"

You're surprised she even talks to you as you come to a stop. "I'm not sure," you shrug. "but it's obviously not good." You approach her cautiously, looking out into the woods. There was once a time where being out here would have creeped you out but now you were the monsters that lurked in the dark. "You wanna take a nap with me? Crow won't be back for hours and you're just gonna drive yourself crazy sitting here." You take her silence as a no and so you leave her be. Climbing into her bed so you could keep an eye on her. You liked how small her bed was - if you could call it that - it always made you feel closer to her. It doesn't take long for you to drift off, you hadn't exactly been bursting with energy lately.

A blood-curdling shriek dragged you kicking and screaming back to reality. Jerking up in bed to see Rose on the floor. Her eyes shone brightly as she cried out in absolute agony. "What's wrong?" You wonder, shoving off the covers. Tears fell silently down her cheeks, her jaw tense in pain. You rub your eyes a little, you hadn't been out that long had you? Using your thumb, you slowly brush away any signs of her sadness. It seemed a lot worse this time like she was much more distraught. "It's crow isn't it?"

You meet her once shimmering eyes. Every ounce of softness burned by the fire of her anger. You've never seen her this mad before; it's... scary.

"I want that little bitchchild." She spits through gritted teeth. You back away from her, giving her the space she needed to not burn you in the crossfire but apparently, that's not what she wanted this time. She reached out for you and you take another step back, hitting the wall.

"Are you scared of me, my dear?" You almost admit the truth but you figure she already knows and that's why she asked. You liked her caring side but when she got angry it was better to steer clear. Shaking your head, Rose walks towards you and pulls you against her chest. Her embrace welcoming and tight. "I'm going after her- we can still track her." Rose huffs, loosening her grip just a little so she could look at you. There was a look of crazy determination on her face that made your heart ache.

"Please don't," you whisper softly. Burying your face in the fabric of her dress. Inhaling her like you never want to let her go.

"Y/N-"

"Something really bad is gonna happen." You interrupt quickly. "I- I can't lose you too."

She offers you a small smile. "You don't have to come with me but I have to do this."

"No, you don't," Your voice surprisingly firm as you scowl at her. There was a little smirk on her lips like she was proud. "We can find someone else, another kid- I don't care."

"You will when you're fucking starving." Rose snaps harshly. You let your head fall so you wouldn't have to look at her anymore. Rose was in charge and you had to respect her decision even if it was idiotic. The brunette places her hand softly against your cheek and you instinctively lean into her touch. She lets her forehead fall against yours. "You trust me, right?" Eventually, you nod a little. "Then trust me to do this. If not for ourselves than for the others that that little bitch murdered."

You could beg and plead until you went blue in the face but it wouldn't make a difference. Rose has becoming consumed by her obsession; motivated by her anger. This was no longer just about getting Abra, it was about revenge. She'd never been good at letting things go. She had lost her family so quickly. Felt them die one after the other like a game of dominos. There was no way to fix that. Even if you could find other rubes, the chances of them being as powerful as Abra; someone who got inside Rose's head like walking into a store would be almost impossible. And so you had to trust her even if it made your insides burn. "When are you going?"

"I got a little time." She forces you to look at her. Pressing your lips together softly at first but with increasing intensity. You could feel her pain in the way her teeth bore down into your bottom lip as she guided you towards the bed. Her knee speeding your legs apart. The metallic taste of blood dripping into your mouth when she pulls back. Her eyes were dark with anger or lust you couldn't be sure. "Will I feel it when you die? Since you feel it when we do?"

A soft sigh slipped into the air. You could tell she didn't want to talk about this and not just because it was killing the mood. "How bad is it?"

"Nauseating, a little better being so close to you but it'll get worse as you leave."

A gentle kiss was placed against your forehead. "You've always been too soft for your own good. Maybe I should have been tougher with you- made you carry your weight a little more."

"You like me because I’m soft," you argue, an amused smile spreading over your lips. "Makes me easier to manipulate or so you think it does. I just... go along with whatever because I wanted you to like me. I relish in the way you treat me."

"Oh my love, I know that. I can read your mind after all." Rose chuckled softly.

"I don't like when you're in my head." Her lips connect with yours once more.

I know.

Palm against her chest, you push her away again. She may be running off to her own doom but you couldn't ignore how you felt about her or the sick feeling beginning to fester. Something really bad was gonna happen and you can’t help but wonder if this would be the end for her too. Would they then come after you? "I don't know if I can last by myself."

"You definitely can't." She answers instantly and you're a little offended she's so quick to dismiss you but she was right. " but you won't be alone so it's fine, Y/N." She let her thumb dance softly over your cheek.

"When have I ever been wrong," you ask, a little too aggressively. She stops her movements for a second before continuing. "Tell me that what I'm feeling right now isn't a sign that you're not gonna make it. Promise me you'll come back and I won't bring it up again."

Her beautiful eyes drift to your lips but you're sure it's just to avoid looking you in the eye as she lies to you.

"Your wrong this time." She answers clearly. "I'll come back so please just... relax for me, my love."

You keep your word despite every part of you screaming to stop her. There was nothing you could do anyway. Her powers were far stronger and she had the stomach to do anything to get what she wanted. Her hand slips down to your neck where she sinks her teeth into your shoulder. An unexpected whine escapes into the air causing her to smile against you. Your arms wrap around her, pulling her flush against you. Pressing into her in order to be as close as possible. To feel every part of her just in case it was the last time. You rolled your hips against her knee which was still so conveniently placed between your legs. Rose sucked on your collar bone; marking you as her own. Dull waves of pleasure spilled through every part of your body until she stops you. Holding you down. Hand wrapping firmly around your neck. "Such a needy, girl." She hums, kissing you slowly. You try to move your hips again but her grip around your neck tightens so you stop. A whine slipping past your pouted lips. "Slow down, my sweet. I wanna taste you."

Rocked from your slumber, no words are shared between the two of you. Not so much as a plead for her to stay or an admission of love as you watch her gear up to dive further into the black hole of her obsession. She opens up a few special canisters she’d been saving. Inhaling the steam, on the last one she told you to join her. Giving you one last shotgun kiss. You noticed her hand was completely healed which meant she must have her strength back. You were feeling better too; stronger so it should have been no surprise when you felt like we're gonna throw up right here and now. You silently wish for a change of heart knowing she's probably spying on your thoughts but she was already out the door. It was still dark out. You're reluctant to go after her in case you touch her and witness her fate. So you stay by the door, feeling the cold air in nothing more than one of her shirts. The jeep roars to life and without so much as a glance back she drives away. You remain there until she's out of sight and you're left to play with the ghosts of a once lively campsite. For a second you're at peace and then her voice filters into your head.

Trust me. I'll get her. The tears you had managed to subdue no longer cared for composure and you begin to silent sob for a woman whose fate was yet to be sealed.

[mychemicalficrecs]

hi, do you know any good vampire frerard fics? :)

Hi Nonny!

I do know a few of those: check out this list that's all about Gerard as a vampire (and mostly Frank/Gerard). If that can't quench your thirst, try this list!I've read the first four of these (no. 2 & 3 are the same universe) but there are A LOT of fics about Vampire Frank/Gerard on AO3 and all of these looked really interesting, so there should be something for every taste!Some fics on this list have multiple pairings, I've added those to the descriptions when they seemed more than a background or past relationship.

Vampire Frank/Gerard

Gerard Way's (Vampire) Detective Agency by jjtaylor, Pennyplainknits, more ships in later fics, 164k, Mature, Teen And Up Audiences, General Audiences. Pete, in Decaydance Mansion, with a yarrow stake. Frank and Gerard, in the greenhouse, with a plant of questionable origin. Bob, everywhere you look, with a gang of assassins for justice. Vampires, valets, pamphlets, haunted furniture, dub-thrall, disembodied voices, zombie couriers, and sinister rituals.

They Came From Outer Jersey! by thatsfinewithus, Gen, Frank/Gerard, 25k, Rated R. New London Fire is an elite fringe government force assigned the task of protecting the earth from some of its more interesting threats: those from beyond the atmosphere or even the universe. They've handled dangerous cases before, but they've never seen anything like...ZOMBIES FROM SPACE. Vampires, long hunted in lore and legend, are now the earth's only saviors. There is little information as to who sent the creatures until Mikey Way, head of the NLF, finds out more by being abducted. Is it too late for him? Is it too late for the earth? Find out how six vampires, one government general, and one frustrated comic book artist save the earth in...THEY CAME FROM OUTER JERSEY!!

I Think I Thought (I Saw You Try) by thatsfinewithus, 3k, NC-17. Vampires, and MCR, and porn. Welcome to some weird AU world in which Gee only does awesome comics and Frank is a vampire.

A State Of Orange by gala_apples, Frank/Mikey, Frank/Gerard, 20k, Explicit. Being a halfling in a red state can sometimes cause issues for Frank Iero. He’s the weakest at Jett Clement High School, and probably the entire state (not counting the meal plans). His moods are oddly stable, as much as he tries to be mercurial. And being able to withstand the sun for up to twenty minutes only allows him more time to be forced into chores. Still, his parents are insane if they think he’s going to be happy about their decision. Frank doesn’t want to move to a Mixed state. How is he supposed to get great friends? How is he supposed to find great food? How is he supposed to have great sex? But Frank doesn’t have a choice. He’s New Jersey bound for the next year, if not longer. He’ll be surrounded by tame vampires who have been nagged out of a sex drive, and humans he’s not allowed to eat. Mixed states suck. Lucky for him, not every person in Jersey sucks.

All's Night by MizErie, 16k, Explicit. The war between humans and vampires has been raging for centuries. Too long according to Frank Iero. But if all humans aren't considered equal, what chance do vampires have in the fight for equality? That's why when Frank bought and began running his small bar, The Jukebox, he also implemented All’s Night. All’s Night began as an all-inclusive Tuesday night for tolerant humans and vampires to come together and socialize. Its popularity in the community has grown, and Frank has since started hosting All’s Night on Thursdays as well. Those are his two favorite nights of the week.

Life as a Process by ViciousVenin, 57k, Explicit. Frank's college experience isn't exactly what he was hoping for. He has no idea what he wants to do with his life, his RA scares him, and his roommate Gerard seems pretty weird. Really weird, actually, but not in a bad way. As the two of them get closer, Frank finds that Gerard is one of the most interesting people he's ever met, and cute as fuck to boot. Frank just wishes he could figure out what Gerard is hiding...

The Life You Always Dreamed Of by caffienedcold, 180k, Mature. You’d think having grown up in New Jersey, Frank would’ve outgrown his horror movie fixation. But no, he’s thirty, teaching Italian in fucking Rhode Island and he actually believes the student gossip that the art teacher is a vampire. So what if Frank has had an awful crush on him since the school year started? He’d helped Mr. Way move into his classroom and carried a box containing issue one of Doom Patrol, a Batman figure, and splattered tubes of screen printing ink. You really couldn’t blame him for the crush. And the vampire rumors? Icing on the cake. At least until it’s Frank’s blood on the line.

'Til the Sun Goes Down by BasementVampire, 2k, Explicit. Frank wants to fuck his best friend. Gerard wants to drink Frank's blood.

I Think I'd Go Insane Without You by hellborn, 3k, Mature. Gerard just smiles, his lips closed, eyes dark red and eager. Mikey covers his face with his hands and squeezes the empty bag between his calloused fingers, "I must be out of my goddamned mind for even considering this." A dangerous, thin-lipped smirk spreads across Gerard's face and Mikey can see row after row of long, sharp, teeth gleaming from between his bloodstained lips, "Come along, Mikes, it's time to dig up my boyfriend's dead body!"

Mortui Non Mordant by Tezy, 32k, General Audiences. “Does that matter right now? I’m – fucking dead, man. I wanted to do so much shit with my life before I died!” “You still can,” the guy said. “Like, nothing’s stopping you.” Gerard leapt to his feet, aghast at how casually he was treating his death. That wasn’t very good manners. “Except being dead.” “What did you want? Fucking ballet dancing at your funeral? Get over it, we all did.”

Those Cemetery Eyes by corruptedkid, 11k, Explicit. Every second Gerard was absent, Frank felt like there was a hole in his chest. The day Mikey showed up at his doorstep blotchy and tearstained, the hole collapsed into a supernova, turning him inside out and swallowing him whole.

at midnight all the agents by orphan_account, 18k, Mature. "I'm so, so sorry, I didn't meant to kill you," the black-haired man said in a distressed voice.

we only come out at night by cemetery_driven, 2k, Teen And Up Audiences. Gerard and Frank are just stupid vampire boyfriends.

Vampire AU by Andromedas_Void, 26k, Explicit and Teen And Up Audiences. Mister Francis Anthony Iero, Junior, Your presence is requested this evening at 221 Upper Birch Lane, North London. A carriage will be awaiting you at 3:00 pm sharp. Cordially yours, Gerard Arthur Way, Esq.

burning up in the sun by akamine_chan, 12k, Explicit. Life hasn't been the same since the Rift. Frank hadn't been planning on getting stuck in this stupid town, kept captive in the sketchiest bar in the universe, chained to the counter like an animal. And just when he'd been sure that nothing could surprise him anymore, he was rescued by a rock 'n' roll band of vampires. He hadn't seen that one coming.

There's A Lot Of Vampires Out There by iamdali, 27k, Explicit. In the year 2025 over 90% of the word's population are vampires. These days, vampires don't have to prowl alleys for human victims, massive medical co-operations mass produce blood and inject it in to every day food. Gerard Way is an office boy for one of the biggest companies in the US, and when he's not paper pushing for Vladimir Co he's plotting to find his still human brother with his companion, Frank.

Like a Secret In Your Throat by frankie_ann, 10k, Explicit. Frank sells himself as a live-in housekeeper/boyfriend. Gerard is a vampire (and independently wealthy artist) with a deeply unhealthy blood addiction who could use a hand around the house now that Mikey is off at school. …Mostly there’s a lot of porn. And blood. And I do believe in happy endings.

(To Die Will Be) An Awfully Big Adventure by FayJay, Frank/Gerard, Lindsey/Gerard, 73k, Mature. Gerard has always vaguely liked the idea of being a vampire, in much the same way he's always vaguely liked the idea of time travel, or of being a pirate - but it's only when he wakes up dead that he realises that not all his fans (or friends) are actually human. This is rather a shock to the system, but Gerard does his best to deal with the fact that he's now an undead American, and he's lucky enough to get a little help from an unexpected corner. Just as he thinks he's starting to get the hang of being a vampire, however, everything suddenly goes to hell in a handbasket, and before he knows it there are angry vampires slayers chasing him around LA, and an urgent appointment with the Fairy Queen looming before him... A story about love, family, metamorphosis, art, trust and geekery.

Cycle of Souls by Green, Gerard/Mikey, Frank/Gerard, Brian/Gerard, 49k, Explicit. Gerard loses his brother in the 17th century, and is turned shortly after. He grieves for his lost brother for centuries, but becomes content when he meets a man named Frank. Now, in the 21st century, he sees someone who looks exactly like his lost brother. In fact, he's positive the young Mikey is his dead brother come back to life. Will Mikey accept a vampire into his life, or is Gerard destined to lose him yet again?