#THAT IS OUTRAGEOUSLY FUNNY AND SWEET AND GROSS AND WONDERFUL | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wonderrdies · 5 years ago

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if love be rough with you - pt.1 (pypfc)

In which you and Harry are professors at a prestigious Art and Language university but can’t stand each other. Well, you can’t stand him.

disclaimer: I fucked up and won’t finish the thing in time for the pick your poison fic challenge (thank you and I’m sorry to @for-fucks-sake-h @oh-honey-styles @andwhenshesays) so I’ll split it into two parts. Once I post the second one, I’ll link it down here.

warnings: so far, so good. there’s gonna be fucking in the next one, though.

word-count: about 4,000 words

If love be rough with you, be rough with love.

Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.

(Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare)

Your copy of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet fell to the wooden floor of classroom 103 with a dull thud. It was not your favorite play by any means, but teachers didn’t get much of a choice when it came to the syllabus at Markham. Art and Language students there had been learning the same things for generations, walking through ancient hallways with the pretentiousness of people who know they’re special because of more than just daddy’s money.

Daddy’s money was still a big part of it, though. The fact you didn’t have it made it very obvious that, despite your mid-20s looking face, you were staff and not a student. Which, you said to yourself back when you started teaching at Markham, was fine. You made a mantra out of it in the beginning: It’s fine. I’m fine. When older professors and students didn’t take you seriously, when you were lonely, when the stone walls made you feel claustrophobia instead of wonder, when you had to begin working with Drama students instead of sticking to your comfort-zone in the Literature department. It’s fine. I’m fine. Three years later, it was true; you fit right in. You had learned to focus solely on the bright side of the school and the role you had to play, dressing and speaking and teaching like the classy and stone-faced intellectual you always wanted to be. With all your weaknesses safely tucked away, you felt like you probably were a better actress than most of your students.

Considering you were 20 minutes ahead of schedule and no one was ever this early for class, bending over in your pencil skirt to pick Romeo and Juliet up didn’t seem like a big deal. Until you heard the whistling.

“All this for me?”

You took your time standing up, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Don’t be gross,” you laid the book back on your desk, crossing your arms as you stared at the man by the door. “Professor Styles.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he flashed you a dry smile, but his green eyes showed amusement. “Darling.”

The eye-roll couldn’t be held back any longer. “Piss off.”

No need to say you weren’t a classy and stone-faced intellectual when it came to Harry Styles.

“Can’t piss off from my own classroom, can I?”

Seemingly not minding your frown, he walked into the room holding a worn leather case for what you could guess was an acoustic guitar. If he weren’t dressed in his usual expensive and obnoxious clothes, you’d be able to mistake him for a very handsome hobo.

“No, but you can piss off from mine,” you pointed to the metal numbers on the door. “We’re in 103, Styles. I have it for the next three hours.”

“Funny,” he said before laying his guitar on the desk. It pushed your book away until you had to grab it so it wouldn’t, once again, fall to the ground. “Because my schedule says that I have it for the next three hours.”

“Indeed,” Romeo and Juliet falls on leather harshly, the sound pretty similar to the one it made while hitting the floor. “Hilarious.”

The rumbling of what could only be a herd of students began before Harry could come up with any clever remarks, making his head turn to the door expectantly. His pearl necklace accompanied his movement, and you tried not to stare too hard at the expanse of his neck or imagine what it would look like with a couple of bruises under those pearls.

You snapped out of whatever that thought was before there was any need to overthink it. Over your colleague’s shoulder, you could see students, not all of them yours, entering the room. If it wasn’t clear before that there had been a mistake, it was now; Drama and Music students looked at each other suspiciously, whispering to their classmates like they were in primary school instead of university.

“Professor?” someone called. Both you and Harry turned to the desks arranged in a circle, all of them occupied. One of his students, standing on the corner, moved uncomfortably under your glare before speaking again: “Where should we seat? Is this a joint lesson or something?”

A joint lesson? You cringed at the idea. “No,” you said harshly. “There’s been a misunderstanding.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, his voice breezy when compared to yours. “We’ll sort it out, guys. Give us a few minutes.”

He made the two of you sound like a team, which was outrageous. The collar of your sleeveless turtleneck was, all of a sudden, way too tight.

“You look constipated,” he muttered under his breath so only you could hear him. “Let’s go outside.”

“What for?” But you were already following him to the hallway. “Look, just get another classroom.”

“Why don’t you, if it’s that simple?” Harry asked while you closed the door behind you.

“Because it’s a good classroom, the best in the building!”

“Is this how you plan on making me give it up?” He raised an eyebrow, leaning on the stone wall like he didn’t have a care in the world. He probably didn’t.

“Harry,” you sighed. Your hand went to the tiny gold cross in your neck, nervously messing with it. You knew you were about to start pacing like a madwoman. “You could play that guitar anywhere on campus. Just let me have the damn room, alright?”

“Do you think that’s all my lessons are?” He sounded upset.

A brief moment of guilt didn’t stop you from snapping at him. “Do you think I care?”

“No, I don’t,” Even though his voice remained calm, Harry straightened up. “I would never have such high expectations for you, darling.”

You looked at him with a blank stare. Those green eyes without a hint of malice, the soft brown curls of his hair, the delicate pearls over a pastel blue sweater that had a fucking baby chick on it; seeing him, it was hard to believe he could be mean enough to hurt you. But he had, so you went with the most mature and eloquent answer you could muster: “Whatever,” mumbled under your breath.

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. “Let’s just go to the administration and get this shit over with.”

His tone, finally bordering on annoyed, gave you some satisfaction. Maybe you two had more in common than you thought.

—

Things between you and Harry hadn’t always been this hard. Back in university, among mutual friends and copious amounts of alcohol, he had been nicer. So had you. But Markham made the differences that seemed meaningless at 19 years old feel like deal breakers for any sort of healthy work relationship; his laid backness, so charming all those years ago, drove you insane now. He was a brilliant musician, of course, but was that really all it took? While you searched for the perfect balance between serious faculty member, approachable but slightly intimidating mentor, cultured academic, reliable friend and well-rounded human being, Harry simply seemed to always be a little late for everything that didn’t involve robbing you of your preferred classroom. Also, he flirted way too much, dressed like a sexy grandmother and never submitted grades when he was supposed to.

“Hey,” he said, then called your name softly. “I think that’s enough.”

For a second, you thought he meant enough reasons to dislike him. Then you looked down at your overflowing cup of water and the puddle forming on the teacher’s lounge counter.

“Fuck,” you hissed, putting the glass jar back in its place.

“That sounds familiar,” Harry sipped his coffee like he hadn’t just said that in a room filled with ancient Markham professors.

You were torn between giving him a death glare or ignoring him altogether, so you just settled for a death glare directed at no one in particular while you wiped your wet hand on the side of your black skirt.

“Professors,” greeted one of the Plastic Arts teachers, a sweet-looking old lady. She walked up to the counter so she could pour her coffee, standing between you and Harry in the process. “I take it the 103 debacle hasn’t gone smoothly.”

“Yeah, Mrs. Thomas,” Harry said, a playful smile suddenly on his lips. “Someone here doesn’t know when to give up.”

“Don’t talk about yourself in the third person, Professor Styles. It’s not cute.”

Mrs. Thomas laughed like the two of you were performing a stand-up comedy show. “God, you two are adorable.”

You frowned while she walked away, and even though Harry’s smile stayed plastered on his face, you could see the furrow between his brows. “Adorable?” he asked, voice low. “You?”

“Piss off,” you said for the second time that day.

The 103 debacle, as your elder colleague so eloquently put, hadn’t gone smoothly. At all. Administration admitted to making a mistake and offered, oh so kindly, to relocate one of you to an empty classroom upstairs. Both Harry and you just stood there, looking at each other as if saying “Well, there you go” and waiting for the other to eagerly take room 214. Dark, humid, cold and small 214. After a couple of minutes of painfully awkward silence, the secretary responsible for room assignment suggested a sort of alternation: since the conflicting lessons were taught twice a week, Harry could get 103 on Mondays and you could have it on Thursdays. Neither of you liked the idea, but no amount of “But Sophie…” would change her mind once she came up with a supposedly perfect solution.

“She’s only saying that because she hasn’t seen your eye twitching while you try to refrain from having a mental breakdown over a classroom,” he said, ignoring the fact you had just told him off. Harry leaned in, annoying smirk on his lips, so only you would hear him when he said: “You can be adorable when you’re whining for more, though.”

He was too close, and you could smell the cologne on the collar of the shirt he wore under his sweater. It was vanilla, sweet and strong like he had been before he turned out to be the kind of guy who insulted you and bragged about having fucked you, all in the same breath.

“Classy, Styles,” you drank the rest of your water in one gulp so you could get rid of the cup and put some distance between the two of you. He just smelled too good. “You shouldn’t be so quick to make fun of my eye twitch, though. I wasn’t the one using “the humidity in 214 is bad for my hair” as an argument.”

“I hate that room,” Harry muttered as you walked away.

Well, that made two of you.

—

“So here’s what we’re going to do,” you announced to your students. Sunshine flooded the room, casting light on their focused expressions. “You’re going to go through act one again and select a snippet of text so that we can discuss it, and you have to make it so your point —” A determined knock on the door interrupted you. Before you could say anything at all, about a dozen people entered room 103 as if it were expected from them to do so. Strangely, it took you a second too long to realize where you knew most of those faces from: three days ago, they were among your own students as they waited for their professor. One by one, they sat in rows on the floor just like they would in actual desks. None of them made a sound. “Make it so your point about the chosen quote is character-driven,” you continued, choosing to simply not acknowledge any disturbance for a moment.

Still, there were twelve too many sets of eyes looking up at you. It was unsettling. For the next few minutes, there was a silent agreement between you and the Drama students; the lesson proceeded as they exchanged puzzled looks while pretending to skim the first act of Romeo and Juliet and you anxiously played with your cross necklace. What kind of sick mind game was Harry trying to play here? You wish you knew what reaction he was expecting, only so you could deliver the exact opposite of it.

“You have ten more minutes,” you said, reminding your students. A few of them nodded as they took notes, but the people sitting on the floor remained quiet and still, eyes on you. “What do you want?” you blurted out.

“What do you mean?” a girl asked, and you could tell they were expecting you to continue pretending they weren’t there until the lesson was over. Bingo.

“I mean, what is your goal? Did your professor send you here just to spite me? Is he wasting your time as well as mine? Or are you supposed to learn something by attending my class without my previous consent?”

By then, your own students had dropped their books and were waiting for one of the Music kids to speak up.

“Today’s lesson is about civil disobedience and other forms of rebellion and how they relate to the cultural and/or artistic aspects of music,” the same girl said. You couldn’t help but admire the way she took the lead, just as you couldn’t help but question Harry’s methodology.

“What’s your name?”

“Kate.”

“Kate, don’t you think this exercise fails to convey the gravity of civil disobedience? The environment seems a little low-stakes, to be honest.”

“Having low stakes is what makes it an experiment, though,” someone else muttered from behind Kate.

“You can speak up”, you said. “And yes, it’s an experiment, but it still feels too far-fetched, not even close to a parallel. Once you’re done with the lesson, you should let me know how Professor Styles managed to turn this into a Thoreau analogy. Maybe he should have just taught you how to play Another Brick In The Wall and called it a day.”

Some of the Drama students snickered from their desks, but Harry’s class didn’t seem to find you amusing at all. Oh, well. You couldn’t please everyone.

“Since you’re already here, you’re going to learn something. It’s unrelated to civil disobedience but that’s not really my fault, is it? Find a partner that’s actually enrolled in the class about narrative elements in Drama; work on the passage together, from a character-focused perspective, and see if you can relate any of it to your knowledge about art and culture in general. I’m certain someone has taught you about that, even if Professor Styles couldn’t.”

There was a beat of silence, all twenty-four of them staring at you hesitantly.

“Well? Get to work.”

And so they did.

—

You zipped up your bag, mind already drifting to the bottle of wine and comfortable blankets waiting for you back home, when someone’s knuckles tapped the door to the classroom. It was neither 103, with its smooth stone walls onto which you could project any material necessary with perfect lighting, or 214, with its moldy smell, but a perfectly decent middle-ground. You had just taught your last lesson of the first week of the semester to a group of eager Literature first-years and even though you were much better at it now than when you first began, it wasn’t an easy job by any means. Shoulders aching with tension, you turned to the door.

“No,” you said before Madeline could utter a single word. She was your sweetest colleague, and also technically your boss. Madeline was the head of the Literature department and the person who recommended you to the head of Drama when they needed someone to teach a couple of classes on the narrative aspects of plays the students would later perform. Even when you hesitated to take the job and said you weren’t experienced enough to do it, she wouldn’t take no for an answer; Madeline was the closest thing you had to a mother in Markham, always toeing the line between authority and encouragement.

But she would have to take no for an answer now, because you knew that face. And contrary to her motherly status, she wanted you to go out for happy hour. “Just one drink,” she didn’t even bother denying it. “Everyone’s coming.”

“Everyone who?”

“Everyone!”

Everyone almost certainly didn’t involve faculty over 65, so that left you with less than ten people total. You decided not to bring it up since Madeline could get sensitive about age talk. She was 58 and absolutely outraged by people over 60 that started “acting like they had already dropped dead”. Her words.

“Professor Styles will be there,” and then she wiggled her eyebrows. Oh my God.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you said, offended, grabbing your purse. You turned off the lights and closed the door, all while she played dumb.

“Nothing, really,” Madeline said with a shrug. “Thought it might be nice to hang out with a fellow young intellectual, ‘s all.”

“Oh, spare me.”

“You could also figure your shit out before HR needs to get involved,” she paused to see your reaction. There was none. “Just a thought.”

“HR? Are you for real?”

“No,” she said, honestly. “But the two of you can’t keep this up forever, honey. It’s entertaining to watch, but it looks exhausting. You should put an end to whatever this is, if only so you can have a little more peace of mind. You’re both smart people trying to get their job done, that’s all.”

You didn’t say a word. You didn’t want to fight Madeline on this. Harry was… complicated. You hadn’t seen him at all since yesterday’s class and even though you were proud of how you handled the situation at first, you couldn’t help but second guess every move you made while his students were in your classroom. Maybe you should have just made them leave. Maybe you shouldn’t have questioned Harry’s authority so explicitly by saying it was a bad exercise.Maybe you should have just pretended they weren’t there at all. Maybe you should have walked up to Harry himself and thrown a fit because he disturbed your lesson.

But there was no use dwelling on what should have been. In the end, the lesson was actually productive. Fun, if you might say so yourself. His students proved themselves to be very reasonable people, and the contrast between their perspectives as musicians and those of your students, as actors or future playwrights, contributed to multiple interesting discussions.

“Just one drink,” you found yourself saying to Madeline, not that it mattered. You were already walking together towards the parking lot, where her car was, instead of your usual route.

“That’s my girl.”

You rolled your eyes as you walked by her side, your black heels making it hard for you to walk on the gravel of the parking lot. The uncomfortable shoes, unfortunately, played a big part in your whole “fake it ‘till you make it” brand of confidence.

—

The whole table shifted as you and Madeline walked into the pub. You could see Harry from the corner of your eye, fuzzy cream sweater and lilac pants, the shadow of laughter still on his lips from whatever joke was being told before you walked in.

Two more chairs were placed at random spots, and before you could say anything you were squeezed in between Harry and another professor from the Music department, with Madeline four seats away. This had been a terrible idea. Your thighs were pressed together, the rough fabric of his pants rubbing against your skin; there was no move you could make without somehow touching him.

“Hey,” Harry said quietly, turning to you. You could feel his warm breath on your cheek. “Did you have a nice class yesterday?”

Despite all the imaginary fights you had with him on the last 30 hours, you smiled. Harry Styles had some nerve. “Which one? I teach a few classes everyday, Professor.”

He laughed under his breath even though you both knew you weren’t a particularly funny person. “You know what? You are adorable.”

You could feel your cheeks flaming instantly. He rendered you speechless for a couple seconds, each one making his smirk grow. You licked your lips and then, with less confidence than you’d like, you said: “I know. Still not as adorable as your little backfiring prank, though.”

“First of all,” he started, still with that damn smirk. “It wasn’t a prank, it was an exercise.”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“It was! And it absolutely did not backfire. Shouldn’t you know what backfiring means? Aren’t you a book expert or whatever?”

“Very cute, Styles.”

He murmured a ‘thank you’, choosing to ignore your dripping sarcasm. It drove you crazy.

Someone cleared their throat, and you realized as soon as you looked up that the whole table was waiting for your order and most definitely paying attention to yours and Harry’s conversation. Your face burned even hotter while you stuttered out the name of your cocktail.

Your first cocktail, that is. As a storm started outside, one drink turned into two, then three.

“I should get going,” Madeline said at some point, half the table already gone. Even with all the extra space, you and Harry had shown no intention of moving. “Do you need a ride, honey?”

You thought of your empty kitchenette, a few miles south of Markham, and all the time it would take her to drive you home and back to her house, and her family, under such a downpour. A quick “No, thank you” and she was gone. You turned to the nearest window, your arm brushing Harry’s in the process, to watch the storm outside and figure out if the weather would make it impossible for you to leave, which meant you had made a terrible decision by declining the ride. Sure enough, it was pitch black and the rain was as violent as ever. Oh, well.

“You have goosebumps.”

“Huh?”

“You have goosebumps,” Harry repeated himself, laughing a little. As opposed to you, he hadn’t had a single drink to slow his thinking. “Are you cold?”

“Yeah,” but you weren’t. Through your protests, he took the beige coat hanging on his chair and draped it across your shoulders. Once you shivered at the touch of his fingertips, there was no lying anymore.

Harry raised an eyebrow, and you didn’t know what was more infuriating: his smirk, the amazing smell on his absurdly fashionable coat or your uncalled-for horniness, so you decided to ignore all of them. “There’s really no need, Styles,” you said quietly, already reaching to give him back his coat. “I need to get home.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m not driving.”

“Well,” he scoffed. “Obviously.”

You furrowed your brows, suddenly very glad you couldn’t see the drunk pout that had just formed in your lips. “Bye, then.”

He grabbed your hand before you could take off his jacket. “No. Let me take you.”

“No fucking way,” you protested. Realizing the three or four remaining coworkers at the table were paying attention to your conversation, you continued much more calmly: “Thank you, though.”

“Come on, Professor,” he teased. “I owe you this one, I guess.”

The gin made him sound so reasonable. He did owe you one, for being such a jerk at all times through the don’t-give-a-shit attitude and how he often brought up that stupid fucking night. Not to mention the 103 debacle and the disruptive prank. He owed you many, actually.

“I guess?” It sounded more aggressive in your head, but that would do.

So you both said your goodbyes and left, his expensive coat hanging off your back while you walked to his expensive car, as if whatever was his were meant to be shared with you simply because you looked good in it.

part 2 !

#pick your poison fic challenge #for-fucks-sake-h #oh-honey-styles #andwhenshesays #pypfc #mine #harry styles #harry styles fic #enemies to lovers

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jimlingss · 5 years ago

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Sugar and Coffee [8]

Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9

➜ Words: 3.3k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

You always thought you would be happy to see him again. To come face to face with the man who you miss the most — who you’ve yearned to see so much. Like reuniting with a close friend who you’ve lost contact with. Like rediscovering a piece of yourself that you had lost. But you didn’t know it would be so painful. That your heart would be so heavy. “H-hey.” “Hey.” Seokjin smiles and your heart stutters but then constricts. It’s hard to breathe. “Are you on your way to class?” You hold your books closer to your chest as if they could do anything to protect you. Your eyes sweeping over his features, trying to freshen your memories of him. You can’t recall the last time you heard the sound of his voice. “Y-Yeah. Are you?” “I’m on my way to the library to meet up with some people for a group project,” he says casually with a good-natured smile. “Oh. A group project already?” “Yeah, I know right.” Jin sighs lightly, lips falling into a slight pout. “Well it’s my last ever semester, so it’s the last push.” “Totally. I...get it.” “I should go now before I’m late. It was nice seeing you, Y/N.” You nod and without waiting a beat, he brushes past you, continuing down the hall. You hate it. The way he looked at you, talked to you so nonchalantly, how he didn’t even blink thrice. Jin was friendly, but you know him — and he treated you the way he treats strangers. There weren't any softened gazes, gentle words. None of his actions had a trace of lingering feelings. His polite smile is the same one that’s reserved for mere acquaintances. Distant. You’re no less than a stranger to him. And as you watch Jin’s backside fading down the corridor, you quickly wipe away the tears that shed down your cheeks. // “You ran into him?” You nod, toying with the hem of your sweater. “That’s great news,” Jungkook murmurs from the corner of his mouth, preoccupied with choosing a game. “Yeah, I know, right?” You're stiff, but he doesn't pay enough attention to notice. You’re sitting on the floor of Jungkook’s dorm room, knees gathered together as you watch him set up. He’s finally cleaned up after you insulted him that he was a pig living in a pigsty, and he was offended enough to clean up after himself and do his laundry. Jungkook switches on his PS4 and flops down on his small couch with the controller. He glances up at you when there’s ongoing silence and realizes he should say something more. “That means there’s hope, right? If he’s willing to talk to you and all. I know a lot of exes who would run in the other direction.” “Yeah. That’s true, I guess.” Jungkook is optimistic. “If you keep talking to him, who knows, you might get back together before you even realize.” There’s a loud knock on the door, someone’s fist banging on the surface. The boy in his gray sweatpants and black, boxy shirt sighs, gets up and opens the door. The person on the other side glares at him. “Dude, about fucking time. Was standing out there for an eternity.” “Shut up, I literally took ten seconds.” “Yea, but ten seconds we could’ve used playing. Hey, Y/N!” Hoseok grins, plopping down on the couch and stealing Jungkook’s controller. Jimin follows in, greeting you with a smile, and Taehyung and Yoongi are the last with the former harshly nudging the latter forward. “Alright, alright,” Yoongi grunts quietly and then faces you with his hands dug into his hoodie pocket. “Y/N. I wanted to apologize for my behaviour last time.” He looks less sorry and more disgruntled and reluctant, but it’s enough to amuse you. You snort. “It’s no big deal.” “Okay, cool.” Yoongi exhales and sits beside you. Taehyung shakes his head but redirects his attention to Jimin when he steals his favourite controller. “Hey, hey, hey, paws off, bro.” “What?” “That’s mine.” “Who says?” “I wrote my name at the back in pencil. Look. See?” “You wrote on my controller?” Jungkook is outraged, snapping into their argument. In the meanwhile, Yoongi scrolls through his phone and notices you’re blankly staring at Jungkook's old flat screen — the one he stole from his parent’s home months ago and somehow set it up here. “I meant it.” “What?” “I know it looked like Taehyung made me,” Yoongi mumbles, “Which he did. But I meant to apologize anyway. Eventually. I know I’m an ass.” “You’re an honest one,” you admit with a small smile. If there was anyone who was going to be frank and truthful, it would be Yoongi. He won’t sugar coat it, won’t string pretty words together to make you feel better, so that’s why you pick him to inquire, “Can I ask you a question, Yoongi?” “Sure.” “Do you think I’ll ever be able to get back together with Jin?” “No.” His gaze connects with yours. “You won’t. Usually people break up for a reason and that reason always stands.”

Two weeks pass by as you ignore the thoughts lingering in the back of your mind. You overlook it like an assignment on your desk that needs to be done or like that messy drawer you should clean out but keep procrastinating on. And it’s easy to distract yourself when the entire school is stirred. Of course it would be. After all, the most competitive holiday was coming up. “What are you going to make for Valentines?” “Me?” You blink. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it yet….” The atmosphere hyped — even the dining hall is louder, the air buzzing. The holiday simply dedicated to love has long been replaced by alumni years ago and became a competition. After all, this was the place where everyone could make sweets after all. No longer was Valentine chocolates simply melting chocolate from the store and pouring them into molds — every single person here can properly judge the quality, taste, texture, flavour, and the presentation. According to rumours, the tradition started between three people, specifically when a girl told her two potential suitors that she would become the Valentine of whoever baked better. It sounds like some ridiculous Shakespearean tragedy, but as people went head to head to win the affections of their crushes — it essentially evolved into a competition. And at this point, it doesn’t matter who gives it to who. It’s who bakes it better. “I’m still debating if I want to do raspberry possets or raspberry religieuse,” Taehyung hums, chin resting in his propped up hand, and he turns to his side. “Which one do you like, Yoongi?” “Why the fuck do you care what I like?” “Well obviously because I’m going to make it for you,” he giggles. Yoongi glares. “Fuck off.” “Who else am I supposed to give it to? You have no one, I have no one.” “What about Jimin?” you ask, trying to hold back laughter with said brunette. “He has his mom.” “Hey,” Jimin whines, “I have the Valentine’s Day fundraiser at the hospital this year too.” “So you’re not going to make anything for your mom?” he deadpans. “Well, no.” Jimin pouts. “I’m going to make her red velvet cupcakes.” “Don’t make fun of him,” you chide Taehyung and turn to the other. “That’s really cute, Jimin.” Jimin grins, eyes crinkling into half moons. “Don’t worry, Taehyung can say whatever he wants. He’s just jealous my mom’s the best. She raised me all on her own and I wouldn’t be here without her.” “Okay, I’ll admit she’s really nice,” Taehyung has a dreamy expression. “I miss her warm hugs.” “That’s weird,” Jimin deadpans, pleasant smile switching into a face of comical disgust. “Don’t talk about my mom like that, dude.” You laugh and look over at the sleepy man lazily chewing on his mac and cheese. It’s always funny to watch Yoongi eat. He looks physically pained to chew and swallow — you wonder if he would blend all of his food to just drink it if he could. “Are you going to make anything, Yoongi?” “No. Who would I give it to?” He ignores Taehyung when he exclaims ‘me’. You direct your attention to Hoseok and he shrugs. “I might...make lemon and poppy seed cupcakes or strawberry rhubarb shortbread bars.” “For who?” Jungkook asks, brows raised. “Uh, no one.” But it’s obvious that the answer is too suspicious, so he gives in with a sigh. “I owe Y/N’s friend, Aeri, a favour, so I’ll probably make something for her.” “Ooh, I haven’t heard you talk about Y/N’s friend before.” Taehyung leans in closer, eyes glistening. “Shut up,” Hoseok quips. “What about you, Y/N?” “I...haven’t decided if I will or not. Maybe I’ll make something for Jin.” Yoongi’s eyes flicker up, brow cocking, and you stare back at him blankly. Jimin catches the quick exchange and intercepts. “You should tell Jungkook to make you his chocolate-covered strawberry cupcakes.” “Holy fuck, I remember those!” Taehyung slaps the table, startling both you and Jungkook. “Those was so fucking delicious, I thought I was going to cream my pants when I ate them. I can still taste it.” He slurps up the spit that’s accumulated in his mouth. Jungkook’s nose wrinkles. “No. It’s too much work to make that.” Taehyung bats his lashes. “You wouldn’t make it for us?” “That’s an even harder no.” “Psh. Valentine’s Day hater.” “Fuck off. It’s not my fault that the holiday is stupid.” “You just hate it because you’re alone.” You pat your friend on the back. “It’s okay, Jungkook. You’ll find love someday.” “Okay, fuck you too,” he spits without much malice, making Yoongi smirk. “Jungkook just knows his small package can’t satisfy any man or woman.” Yoongi’s insult rouses laughter from everyone and the man being grilled has his brows shot to his hairline. “For your information, I have a substantial size and I’m probably bigger than everyone here. Especially you, Mr. five foot nine.” You blanch. “Gross.” But while Yoongi doesn’t seem injured by the retort, Jimin’s the one who’s sitting straight and he whines, “Why do you have to bring height into this?” They ignore him in favour of Taehyung’s questioning, “Really? Bigger than everyone here?” “Okay fine.” Jungkook points at Taehyung. “Except you.” You look between the pair of them. “Did you guys have a dick measuring contest or what?” “We will not speak of the past,” Jungkook deadpans, making you laugh even more. // You know that you shouldn’t. With what Yoongi’s told you, with what you know yourself, you shouldn’t go out of your way to do something so unnecessary. You shouldn’t put your heart on your sleeve to get hurt again when it’s not going to be worth it. But in your life, there've been a thousand shouldn’ts and you’ve always grasped onto the one should. It never hurts you to try, and that’s how you’ve made it this far. “Hey, Jeon.” You catch up to him. Jungkook’s legs are unbearably longer than yours and when he walks fast it puts you out of breath within seconds. Luckily, he sees you and has the decency to slow down. “What?” “I need your help.” Jungkook’s steps slow even more until he outright stops in the middle of the hallway. He looks so apprehensive, you have an urge to slap that expression off his face. “Hey! It’s not like I’m not going to ask you to kill someone for me!” “Yeah, well, the last time you asked for a favour, we destroyed a kitchen trying to temper chocolate. I’d rather you kill me, thank you very much.” “Pretty please? Promise it’s not bad.” “Ew, ew. Don’t look at me like that and stop pouting, you’re not cute.” You frown at him. “Look it’s not a huge, huge thing, promise.” “What is it?” “Well, you’re Jungkook, World’s Best Chocolatier, right?” You nudge him with your elbow and it only makes him more suspicious with how you’re thickly laying down the praise. “And you know chocolate hates me. I definitely don’t know about it as well as you do either, so I need you to bestow your gifts onto me—” “What is it, lady? Get a move on! I don’t have all day.” “Can you help me make something for Jin?” Jungkook pauses. He stares at you. Maybe his brain finally died — not like there is anything to die considering it’s always been a little on the empty side. But then he finally opens his mouth. “What are you planning?” “Just something simple. Like truffles. What do you think?” Jungkook hesitates, then he looks at you. “Fine.” “Really?” “Yeah, yeah.” He waves his hand away, but you grin at him. “You know you’re my best friend, right, Jungkook?” “Yeah, well, it’s something I never really signed up for,” your best friend mutters and continues walking while telling you that you’ll owe him and that means more notes from multiple lectures. But it’s worth it. On the fourteenth, right on Valentine’s Day, you meet with Jungkook. He audibly sighs when he sees you tie up the back of your apron. “What?” “Nothing. I just can’t believe I’m spending Valentine’s with you.” “I thought you didn’t care about the holiday.” “I don’t. But that still doesn’t mean this isn’t lame. Whatever. The quicker we get this done, the quicker I can leave and avoid all this.” He motions around, but you know what he means. Love is in the air and it’s sickening — couples were holding hands, kissing each other on the tips of their noses, rubbing their cheeks against one another, dialing up the PDA to an uncomfortable amount. But you can’t blame them. You and Seokjin were once like that. “Do you know how to make ganache?” “Do I know how to make ganache,” you mimic him mockingly. “Of course I do! What am I, an idiot?!” “Well, you didn’t know how to temper chocolate so you tell me.” You glare at him. You would mouth off but can’t risk him storming out. The two of you gather the eight ounce semi-sweet chocolate, a half cup of whipping cream, cocoa powder and some vanilla. Jungkook helps you heat the cream to a simmer in a small saucepan, looking over your shoulder at every step along the way. While you’d usually mind the way he’s intruding in your personal bubble, you don’t want to get anything wrong. “Make sure it doesn’t burn.” “It’s not going to burn.” “You said that last time.” You snap. “Keep bringing up last time and this will be the last time you step into the kitchen, Jeon.” A second later, you’re begging Jungkook not to leave. But thankfully, he has enough mercy and lets you off with a warning. The pair of you continue making the ganache, placing the chocolate in a bowl before pouring the cream and adding the vanilla to it. You allow it to stand for a few minutes before stirring it into a smooth, deep mixture. You place the ganache in the fridge for half an hour to chill. In the meanwhile, you clean up the mess and wash whatever dishes you have. Jungkook, on the other hand, shows you Yoongi’s reaction of Taehyung proposing to him with some cupcakes in front of campus in which the former man straight out walks away. Jimin who’s filming is giggling hard enough that the camera is unsteady, but his laughter is infectious and makes the both of you grin. Jungkook says he’s glad he wasn’t there lest Taehyung turned to him and started to declare his fake affections and cause a crowd to gather. Apparently it’s happened before. When the ganache is ready, Jungkook helps you roll it into balls and dust with cocoa powder. You pull out a box you had prepared to place them in, and you could not be prouder when it’s complete. It looks like a product that you could buy in-store. Simple yet elegant. “All done.” “All done,” you repeat after him, viewing your final product. Chocolate doesn’t hate you so much when you’re with Jungkook, you realize. “He’ll love it.” “Yeah….” You can imagine it — calling out Jin’s name. He’d spin around, regard you with his surprise. You’d extend your arms to give him the box. You’d try to show through this small gesture that you still love him, but you wouldn’t speak the words in case the moment would be ruined. But with your courage mustered, you’d tell him that you miss him in your life. That you don’t want to be strangers anymore. Whether that means remaining friends or being lovers again. But you know that it’s just your fantasy. A delusion — your optimistic imagination running wild with the semblances of hope still left within you. A sweet dream you would have in your slumber only to wake up to reality. The grief of your heartbreak morphed into a wishful thinking. The image and scenario you’ve constructed in your mind is simply part of a chapter in your life that would never happen. “He wouldn’t take it,” you whisper. It's a truth that’s hard to face, that you’ve been running from and turning yourself blind to. But you know Seokjin. After nearly two years together, you know the kind of polite smile he gives to strangers. You know how he treats acquaintances. You know when he’s being distant, how he acts when things don’t matter to him anymore. And you know that— “He wouldn’t….” He would never take this. He would never accept the chocolates you’ve made on Valentine’s. You would never be able to muster the courage to tell him how much you miss him. And he would never agree to being friends after your extensive history together. Your head lowers, and tears drip down your cheeks. Jungkook is rendered speechless but you feel his hand on your shoulder. He squeezes comfortingly. You sniffle, wiping your face with the back of your hand, and you take a truffle to throw into your mouth. You chew in your cheek and look at Jungkook with your reddened, teary eyes. “I-If he won’t eat it, we should.” That’s how you end up on the floor of the kitchen with Jungkook beside you. The two of you are leaning against the kitchen island, hidden away from the window of the door and any intrusive eyes peering through. The tips of your fingers are stained with melted chocolate — the fruits of your labour gone in an instant. The realization sinks in. After months of what you’ve tried to keep a hold on it. Having hoped aimlessly that you could change this back around. What had shattered into sand and slipped between your fingertips, but you tried to catch it again. It hits you in an instant. Harder than it ever has. “It’s really over, isn’t it, Jungkook?” you ask in a murmur, in a broken voice. “It’s over.” The relationship ended. Any form of a relationship with Seokjin is gone forevermore. Jungkook turns his head, gazing at your profile. He pats you on the back. He’s learnt long ago that he wasn’t very good at speaking, but that his words don’t mean as much as his actions do. So in silence, Jungkook eats the truffles with you. It’s not bad, he muses internally. You’re getting better at chocolate despite how you never had a knack for it. Well, technically he made them but whatever, your effort still means something. He chews and keeps to himself how the chocolate truffle strangely tastes sweet and bitter, like both sugar and black coffee.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook reader insert #jungkook as a cutie baking boy who doesn't know to deal with emotions #and oc as a person who has too many emotions lol #Y'ALL no spoilers but this is the turning point #cue the song past the point of no return

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12tardis · 4 years ago

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My Funny Valentine (Newt Scamander x Reader)

Warnings: none Requested: Yes! Lovely anon asked for ‘some funny moments with Newt and reader? Like those moments that make you laugh but at the same time you say ‘oh God I love him’ and vice versa...” I really hope you like it! Like I said I have a weird/dry sense of humour so I’m super unsure about this one!

Pairing: Newt Scamander x Reader Summary: A collection of short moments wherein Newt makes the reader laugh and vice versa. Includes colour blind Newt, exasperated Theseus, a misshap with some Billywigs and a lousy take on the Erumpent dance. A/N: I read somewhere once that Eddie is colour blind and I really have the NERVE to post this wearing bright purple thermal stockings, tan uggs and a green and blue flannel?? Thank you anon for requesting this I seriously hope its okay! Guys I dunno what I’m doing my brain broke . Thank you to everyone that reads my stuff , you make my day x Words: 3,324

Newt was one of the few people that could make you laugh, a proper full-bellied laugh no matter what mood you were in. And little did you know that he’d made it a personal goal to make you smile at least once everyday ever since your days at Hogwarts. He would usually achieve this by doing or saying sweet things to you but occasionally he’d do something so outrageously ridiculous or dorky that you couldn’t help but laugh.

Usually he would feel insecure and flustered when people would laugh at him but with you he didn’t mind. You would never mean anything out of animosity. In fact he only felt pride that he, Newton Scamander could draw such a beautiful musical sound from you.

It was a little known fact that Newt was colour blind and you were one of the only people to know about this fact because it rarely came up. There’d been a few questionable wardrobe choices over the years as a result but for the most part no one ever suspected a thing because he tended to wear the same staple outfits day in and day out and you were always there to fix him up if he was ever dressed too outrageously.

You were only fairly recently an official couple when you found yourself waiting for Newt at the bottom of the stairs in your shared apartment. Standing with his older brother Theseus and chatting away as you were all about to head off to one of Newt’s book signings where many more of his friends and family would be. Of course, Newt was the last one to get ready though, having gotten carried away in his case while you had busied yourself getting all dolled up.

“By Merlin’s beard”, Theseus suddenly breathed out, looking up the stairs at his brother who was rushing down towards you, wearing at least 4 different colours and 5 different prints. You didn’t even recognise half of the ensemble he was wearing.

Theseus quickly looked away from his brother and down at his watch, trying to hold it together but you didn’t even attempt to hold back your laughter as you slapped a hand over your mouth, gaping at your boyfriend.

“Newt, did you let the creatures dress you?”, you gasped, gripping him by the shoulders as it was Theseus’ turn to gape at you.

Newt blinked back at you and then glanced down at his own outfit before looking back at you “I-I thought you liked this shirt!”, he huffed as you openly started to laugh now.

“Goodness Newt I do! I love this shirt. But not with that green paisley waist coat. Not with the purple tie,” you breathed out, gripping his shoulders harder as you couldn’t control your giggles any longer. You cupped his cheeks as you looked him over, shaking your head “I love this shirt and I love you and you look utterly adorable but I’m just not sure this is the look you were going for.”

And Theseus looked on in bemusement when Newt just gazed back at you with bright eyes and a smile of his own, taking you in properly in your own gorgeous gown and perfectly done hair and make up.

Newt only held you closer as he smiled back at you, beginning to laugh too because your laughter was infectious. “I thought you were going to wear your blue three piece”, you eventually managed to say to which Newt shook his head with a frown “I can’t find it anywhere!”

You rolled your eyes fondly in response before you jogged up the stairs to fetch the outfit, leaving Newt gazing after you. He yelped when Theseus slapped him in the chest, staring at him incredulously “what the hell was that?!”

Newt looked back at his brother with his eyebrows drawn together, holding his hands up “what was what?”

“That!” Theseus huffed, gesturing in the direction you had gone “I laughed at you for the very same reason once and you didn’t talk to me for a full weekend but she does and you stare at her like she hung the moon and the stars!”

Newt pursed his lips together for a moment as he looked back at his brother “Right, well for one - you were being a jerk that day. Two, it’s not the same at all because you’re not her, I mean did you not see how she lights up? And three, as far as I’m aware-“ he paused as he fixed Theseus with a deadpan expression “she did hang the stars and the moon.”

Newt grinned back at his brother obnoxiously causing Theseus to groan in frustration. “Gross!” he said as he threw his arms up in exasperation before he stomped out of the apartment to wait outside, just as you came back down the stairs thrusting the suit bag into Newt’s hands.

Newt grasped the bag in one hand and pulled you close against him with the other now that the two of you were alone. He pressed a long kiss to your lips, humming as he pulled back “hmm, how do I know this isn’t just a ploy to get me undressed my darling girl?”, he murmured as he squeezed your hip, causing your cheeks to warm in response.

“Newt! Go and get dressed we’re already late!”, Theseus shouted, banging on the front door.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“My god, I swear he does stupid things just to make her laugh”, Jacob murmured in disbelief as he shook his head to himself , watching you bent over, clutching your stomach as you cackled with laughter while Newt smiled back at you over his shoulder.

Theseus nodded furiously, looking over at Jacob “YES! Thank you! I’ve been saying this for years! This one time for an event I swear he purposely dressed like a muggle clown just to amuse her.”

“Yeah jeeze”, Jacob nodded, slightly distracted as Theseus continued to recount all the times he’d witnessed Newt doing something dumb to woo you. He barely registered a word, too preoccupied watching Newt continue to dance around in the snow looking like an absolute buffoon.

He was apparently performing a mating dance to try and lure the escaped Erumpent back into his case while Y/N was too busy laughing in the distance to help him lure the creature with the vial of musk in her hand.

Newt picked up on your giggles in the background, smiling slightly to himself as he continued to wiggle his ass in the direction of the Erumpent, eventually looking back at where you were almost wheezing with your laughter “Come on Y/N! A little help here!” he called, and you quickly pulled yourself together when you saw the Erumpent begin to huff in Newt’s direction.

Newt ran towards you and the case when you finally pried the lid from the vial, narrowly avoiding being gored by the Erumpent as he skidded to a halt in front of you. You quickly snapped case shut and shouted when Newt slammed into you, knocking you both back into the snow, the two of you collapsing into a fit of giggles a moment later.

Jacob rushed towards the pair of you to make sure you were okay, Theseus hot on his heels as he continued his story of something embarrassing Newt had done in school. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw the you both clutching each other in the snow.

“Oh! And in school he used to eat these lollies that make you hiccup bubbles. They taste absolutely horrid but he kept doing it and she thought it was hilarious! They’re both insane”, Theseus said passionately as he gestured to you tangled in one another’s arms and giggling still.

“Insanely in love,” Jacob countered wondering if that’s what he and Queenie looked like to the outside world when they were absorbed in each other.

Newt was the first to climb to his feet, helping you up and brushing the snow off of you as you turned to Theseus with a frown “Drooble’s gum was the best!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Newt was just finishing tending to the Mooncalves when he spotted a stunning flower growing in one of the nearby enclosures. He hummed to himself as he wandered over to get a closer look at the flower, looking down at Pickett when the Bowtruckle climbed over to the flower, chirping up at Newt as he gestured at it. “Yes I was just thinking that myself. Y/N would love it”.

He hummed as he leant forward over one of the trees to pluck the flower out from its spot, completely oblivious to the Billywig nest that was hanging over his head. You were always warning him about this particular tree.

He stood up quickly when he had the flower in his hand, yelping when he felt a sting in his neck, his other hand flying up to grasp his neck. He sighed when he caught a glimpse of a Billywig buzzing away and he quickly jogged back towards his shack where he knew he had some anti venom stashed away.

He made it, only a few steps away from the shelves of vials when his feet left the ground and a few giggles began to spill from his lips as the effects of the Billywig sting set in quickly. He rushed to grab his wand, crying out in frustration punctuated by more laughter when it slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor along with the flower as he was left levitating in the air.

As the time wore on the giddiness symptoms wore away but much to Newt’s dismay the levitation side effect didn’t so he resigned himself to flailing around along the ceiling of the shack while a small group of the creatures gathered below him and paced nervously. He had tried and failed several times to coax the creatures to rescue his wand for him.

You arrived home from work not much later, calling out to your boyfriend as you wandered into the apartment, frowning as you wondered where he was. He was usually waiting for you with a pot of tea and biscuits ready, waiting to tell you something exciting about his creatures. You checked in the bedroom and frowned when you couldn’t see any sign of him, calling out for him again “Newt?”

You paused when you thought you heard him shouting in the distance, nodding as you headed straight for his case and climbed down the stairs into his shack.

“Y/N thank Merlin you’re home!”

You gasped and jumped back clutching your chest when you heard Newt’s voice from above you, staring up at him in shock “Newt, goodness are you okay?! Are you hurt?”, you panicked, rushing towards him trying to reach up to him.

Newt waved his hands when he saw your panic, shaking his head “I’m fine I got stung by one of the Billywigs”, he sighed when he tried to reach for you and couldn’t quite stretch far enough.

You looked back at him in silence for a moment before you suddenly burst into full bellied laughter, tipping your head back. “Y/N! can you help me down first before you spend the afternoon laughing at me”, he called, pouting at you when you continued to laugh, grabbing your wand and pointing it at him. You paused your laughter long enough as you flicked your wand at him.

“Levicorpus!”

Newt shouted when he suddenly flipped upside down, “Y/N!”, he huffed in exasperation but he softened slightly and couldn’t help but smile at the way you giggled in response. His face was now roughly in line with yours and he was able to reach out and grasp your shoulders. “I thought Billywig stings were supposed to make you giddy?” you murmured as you gently stroked Newt’s face and he leant into your touch instinctively “that symptom wore off about 20 minutes ago.”

You giggled again and nodded, pressing a soft kiss to his lips causing Newt to hum in surprise as he closed his eyes and took in the new sensation of kissing you while hanging upside down. You let go of him and stepped back to give him room as you cast your wand at him again “Liberacorpus” and Newt closed his eyes as he suddenly spun upright again, still levitating above you.

You wandered over to the storage cabinet, scanning the shelves and grabbing the anti venom vial, setting it on Newt’s desk before you walked back over to him, trying to tug him down by his ankles. You huffed and puffed as you eventually managed to get him a safe distance closer to the ground, holding the vial up to him.

Newt quickly skulled the liquid, scrunching his face up in disgust and not catching himself in time to land on his feet as he hurtled towards the ground. Your eyes widened and you quickly grabbed him, letting out a yelp when you crashed to the ground under Newt, the two of you a mess of tangled limbs.

Newt quickly shifted his weight off of you, checking you over for any injuries as he lay over you, smiling as you began to laugh again, cupping his cheeks “darling, are you okay?”, you murmured, looking back up at him in amusement. Newt nodded, pressing a quick kiss to your lips “I’m fine. You saved me, my love.”he murmured, smiling in amusement when you let out another giggle “goodness, it’s almost as if you were the one that got stung with all that laughter”

“I can’t help it! You should have seen your face when you were flailing around up there! What were you even doing near the Billywig nest you goose?”, you grinned at him, your lips then pulling into a small frown when you noticed the angry looking welt on his neck, skimming your fingertips over it.

Newt hummed when he saw the concern wash over your face, quickly hopping to his feet and pulling you with him “I’m fine my darling, I promise.” he soothed knowing you were prone to worrying over him. He squeezed your hand before he quickly snatched up the flower from where it had fallen, holding it out to you.

“I spotted this and thought you would like it, it’s not my fault that Pickett was a terrible watch guard”, he murmured, poking his tongue out at the Bowtruckle who squeaked in offence.

You held the flower up and admired it with a wide smile, shaking your head to yourself because Newt’s thoughtfulness never ceased to amaze you “Thank you, Newt. It’s beautiful.”

You leant in to kiss him again before you pulled him upstairs into the apartment where you set the flower into a vase on the dining table and Newt let you fuss over the his sting welt.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You were sitting at the small makeshift desk in Newt’s shack in the case, having decided to use the desk to repot a bunch of your plants while your husband was nearby. You claimed that the desk was just a convenient height for your planting needs and that you wanted to spend time with him but Newt had caught on to the fact that you were really just taking the chance to ogle him as he tried to train a father cranky Kelpie.

He had been suspicious immediately because you’d never had any issue with your work bench in your greenhouse he’d built for you before but he fell easily enough for your excuse of wanting to spend time with him.

So he worked in the room beside you, trying in vain to slip a bridle onto the agitated Kelpie, catching you leaning back in your chair dangerously several time’s to properly look at him. It wasn’t until he caught sight of your slightly heated gaze that he realised what was really happening. You’d always had a thing for him in a wet shirt, he remembered because you’d told him as much once before you had practically tackled him in a very heated kiss.

You knew you’d been caught out from the look of realisation that passed over Newt’s face followed by the faintest blush on his cheeks and you nibbled your lip slightly before you smiled teasingly at him. Newt still wasn’t used to this openly flirty side of you that had seemed to emerge after the wedding but he couldn’t deny that he loved it.

“Perhaps you should take off your shirt”, you said as flirtatiously as you could muster, throwing in a wink at the end and letting out a chuckle when Newt grew flustered in response.

“Y/N, I am trying to do serious work here! I do not need you trying to distract me with your charms”, he huffed, rolling his eyes at you fondly when you only smiled innocently back at him.

You held up your dirt covered hands and shrugged “I’m just saying you will probably be more comfortable without that sopping wet material weighing you down. And Kelpie will probably like you more, because I know I certainly do.”

Newt snorted in response and turned away from you and back to the creature that was still splashing around in protest. He had to admit he was flattered by your blatant ogling but he had a creature to train! Plus it couldn’t hurt to tease you a little in return. Merlin, knows you deserved it after every stunt you’d pulled on your honeymoon.

He tried a few more times unsuccessfully to slip the bridle over the Kelpie before he climbed up onto his step ladder, reaching up and rummaging around through his storage for the other bridle he had that the creature would sometimes accept.

He glanced over at you, biting back a laugh when he glimpsed you leaning back in your chair again, your eyes fixated on where his shirt had ridden up, exposing the lower part of his abdomen.

His smile dropped however when the chair slipped out from beneath you and you let out a yelp as you fell backwards, potting mix flying all over you as you landed on the ground with a soft thud.

“Y/N!”, he shouted, leaping down from the step ladder and kneeling down beside you quickly, relaxing in relief when you grasped his hands, assuring him you were fine. Though you were clearly a little embarrassed as you lay there covered head to toe in dirt and the Flitterbloom you had been planting had landed in your hair and was squirming around your head, tousling your hair up.

Newt looked down at your vexed expression, laughing loudly as he carefully removed the plant from atop your head “My darling girl, I told you you would fall if you didn’t stop that.” he chuckled, setting the plant on the desk before he helped you sit up, looking at you with a mixture of amusement and pure adoration.

You huffed and brushed the dirt off your dress, “well it’s partially your fault for being so handsome,” you grumbled, only making Newt laugh more as he pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around you tightly and effectively drenching you with his soaked shirt too. “It’s entirely your fault for being such a tease”, he countered, holding you tighter when you scrunched your nose up at the damp hug.

He grinned as he nuzzled his wet hair into your neck and you squealed at the ticklish sensation before you too broke down in a fit of giggles in his arms. “Merlin, I love you so much”, he breathed into your shoulder, groaning when you lifted your hand and smeared some potting mix over his face “Y/N!”.

You snorted in response and pecked him on the nose, closing your eyes when he rubbed the dirt over your face in return “I love you too, even when you make me fall out of my chair.”

Title: My Funny Valentine- Ella Fitzgerald (her voice is so beautiful. But also Michael Buble does the BEST arrangements Lyrics r kinda mean :( but makes sense in the musical) -MASTERLIST HERE-

#newt scamander x reader #newt scamander #newt scamander x y/n #newt scamander fluff #newt x reader #newt x y/n #newton artemis fido scamander

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mostlikelyshutup · 4 years ago

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thoughts while watching the first harry potter:

listen i started this list a little late im ngl but notable thoughts so far are me thinking of dumbledore as a gay idiot and still loving hagrid

do you think hes speaking in parseltongue in the zoo when hes speaking to the snake

forgot boats existed

these idiots do scream a lot dont they

i forgot how light hearted this universe really is in the first couple movies

yer a wizard harry, okay hagrid maybe slide him into it a little better

we get it tuney you have fucking trauma, doesnt mean you should abuse a child

hasnt everyone had their name down since they were born, hagrid? theres a list

i like that his umbrella is pink

are you paying for those damages hargid? stop taking the door off the hinges

though, if the dursleys are, keep breaking shit

speaking about dragons on the the fucking tube, its a miracle harry didnt get in trouble with the ministry sooner

what is hagrid's usual? does anyone know???

fucking Quirrell, cant wait for your epic love story with the dark lord

maybe we should tell the 12 year old how the fuck everyone knows his name, just maybe

they do a great job of getting the wonder down pat

how much money and licensing do you think it took for them to get all these owls on set

ahh yes, antisemitism the bank

how many vaults are in gringotts?? also if harry's vault is the potters vault, a literal like sacred 28 family, one of the original families, and its number 600 something, how many were there before the potters?? did the potters get a vault recently? or is this james and lily's vault?? how rich were james and lily if so??

look at ollivander, crazy tinker uncle, love him

this might be the socialist in me but why do people have to pay for wands if everyone needs one??

why is the dark lords twin wand just sitting around on the shelf, ollie me boy??

do you think thats Harry's true wand or do you think thats because of the horcux thing?? do you harry had to get another wand after he died?? did he? i dont remember the last movie

is ollie me boys actor wearing contacts or are his eyes just like that??

thats a very weird way of showing Halloween 81, very misleading

hagrid said ill predict voldys rise in the first movie so we can have some plot development

hagrid is late to everything isnt he? i can feel it in my bones

i swear ive seen these movies, and ive even read the first book, i just dont remember shit

youd think theyd have someone in the know stationed close to the entrance for the platform, for any muggleborns

ginnys actress really had no fucking lines in this movie did she, just had to stand there

oh wait she said good luck

amazing work ginny

ooh a warm filter

can muggles see the express? like just running from london to scotland

wicked!

you didnt have to show the woman the sad sandwich ron

i think the trolly replenishes magically, i think thats how thats how that works, i want to believe that

god i cant tell if i would love or hate hermione, shes pretentious but so was i at that age

god dont fucking point your wand right in someones face mione

how does mione know who harry is?? why does she care?

look at the tiny first years, might just go and pinch theyre cheeks

MINNIEEEE i love you minnie

looking stunning minnie, the green brings out the sternness in your brow

you go minnie, give your speech, thats my head of house

shut up draco, youre not bond

you pretentious fuckwit, your hair is brassy anyways

if this is a class of kids born in the middle of a war, how big are the usual class sizes wtf

THE FUCKING CLAP

fucking propaganda ron, you slytherin hater

what order are these names going in, did they just randomized the list

oooh we get quiet for the boy who lived, jesus let him keep living

the fact that for the rest of these people its just silent is so fucking funny to me, Harry's just fucking whispering to himself

get their attention minnie

me dads a muggle, mums a witch, bit of a shock for him when he found out

NICK, love to see you buddy

i have no emotional attachment to peeves but i feel i should mention him here

the stairs still piss me off, why the fuck would you make moving stair cases

who sets out gloves for the next day? am i the weird one who doesnt??

Minnie, you are the love of my life

shut up snape you dramatic bloodpurist incel

i know theyre setting him up to be mistaken as the villain but jesus christ hes still an asshole

your robes Neville, you forgot your robes

its weird how they have to learn all these latin charms yet only have to say up to get their brooms to work

why wont you go after him, hes obviously not exactly in control, Hooch

does Hooch only teach first years? she is quite literally the equivalent of a history teacher who coaches football

what the fuck is Quirells classroom

they dont make the house teams because no first years can try out, Ron

MINNIE PLAYED QUIDDITCH?!?!? WHY DIDN'T I KNOW THIS

why didnt you speak up earlier Mione wtf

bc the fire wont give you away, harry, better hide

FLUFFY, WHOS A GOOD BOY

they have much worse things locked up in the school, Ron

Oliver wood is a bloody liar because i still dont fuckign understand quidditch, also theres like 500 rules, wtf

thats a shitty explanation of how the game works, Oliver

BLOW IT UP SEAMUS

SHES TWO FEET BEHIND YOU RON YOU IDIOT

carrot cake? on halloween?

dont shrug as if you didnt literally bully her ron

thought youd oughta know, bit of an understatement Quirell

no duh the trolls left the dungeon ron

lying: the best start to any friendship

we're at a net zero points for gryffindor for the year at the moment

the amount of interaction these kids have with professors is so weird to me, is this what small class size do to kids?? its weird

not comforting Oliver

Okay i understand Oliver simps now, I get it okay

are there no backups or subs for quidditch? feels like there should be, like of all the games

set him on fire mione, i know hes not the villain of the movie but god he sucks

fancy flying from harry fucking potter

okay but also i feel like there are some things we should not trust hagrid with, like hes not that great at keeping secrets

why is harry excited about christmas if he thinks hes not getting presents? i knw there are other aspects but like thats the only reasont o get up early

i always remember this scene at night for some reason??

not just an invisibility cloak, THE invisibility cloak ron

btw who gives it to harry? is it remus? is it dumbledore? is it like an inheritance thing? whats up with that?

there are jumpscares in harry potter

he very much can hide, filch

stop being a narc mrs norris

does harry even know what his parents look like at this point? how does he know who the fuck is in the mirror of erised?? he doesnt have that stupid scrapbook yet does he

oh they nod, sure lets clear up that plot hole

they shouldve put sirius and remus in the mirror in that scene, shown his whole family, wouldve been a nice setup

how does rupert grint already look so tired as a twelve year old

big speech to give to a twelve year old Dumbledore, when you wont even tell him what you see

Emma really does just slam that book on Daniels hand, thats mustve fucking sucked

the fact that ive watched two movies that had Nicholas Flamel in two very different roles this year is very strange to me

well thats probably on account of it being a fucking dragon egg hagrid, now isnt it?

was hagrid a hufflepuff? i think he was, maybe a ravenclaw

yes four, you blonde idiot

that shot is really nice, it sets them apart

what happened to filch to make him such a miserable man?

ooh mention of werewolves, awooo werewolves of london

yeah just dip your whole hand in hagrid, dont be scared of the strange liquid, take a nice little bath

i loev that dog, i want that dog, i want to hug that dog

god just the look of that forest is so bloody cool

wait so is that quirell walking fucking backwards?

maybe ask who the fuck youre talking to before asking other questions??? wtf harry

why are yout talking to the centaur like hes your old friend harry, youve literally never met him before

snape doesnt want the stone at all Harry

god hagrid you sweet stupid man

snape is completely valid for that, if a twelve year old ever looked at me like that i would punch them

Do you think people ever loose invisibility cloaks? like theyre invisible do you think they ever just never get found again

i hate the look of the dog spit, that is so gross

they really left everything in except for the fucking potions didnt they, damn

harry potter walked so queens gambit could run

hermione, posted up

rons stupid in the later movies because he got a concussion as a twelve year old

god harry really posted up to beat up snape in fucking khakis

"I knew you were a danger to me!" Hes twelve, Quirell

let me wait for this weird dude to unravel his head scarf instead of running away

the magic in this movie is real fucking conditional isnt it

just some casual necromancy for the stone? you sure about that voldy, you two faced bitch?

let me choke out this twelve year old real quick

oh yeah why is he able to just avengers endgame Quirell? is there an answer to that? like was that ever found out

do you think voldy passing by him while he hold the stone actually killed him but since he holds the stone hes functionally unkillable and then some magic gets put into him and thats why he can return to life later when he actually goes to the whole afterlife place?

ohhh we're vouching on the blood magic for the endgaming of Quirell

do you think dumbledore came across the vomit flavored bean before or after his sister died?

Mione's got a headband! Looking snazzy!

how did Hufflepuff only get 352 points? Gryffindor literally lost 150 points this year and they only beat them by 50, wtf, is it because they kept getting caught with weed

I wont even speak on the fucking outrage that is this point awarding, its already been spoken on. However, Neville shouldve gotten more points

What if someone just stood up and started challenging Dumbledores math, that would be so funny

some of these extras are really attractive

but james potter is somehow so fucking ugly why did they do that to my mans

hagrid deserves the last shot of this film, i love him, he deserves everything, that stupid sweet man

#harry potter #sorcerer's stone #harry potter and the sorcerer's stone #harry potter and the philosopher's stone #hermione granger #ron weasley #k mumbles #fred weasley #george weasley #ginny weasley #hagrid #rubeus hagrid #albus dumbledore #long post #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Bridesmaids Ten Years on: “It Should Not Have Been Subversive”

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“From the producer of Superbad, Knocked Up and The 40-Year-Old Virgin” headlines the 2011 poster for Bridesmaids. It might as well have continued “comes a comedy starring… women!” While the producer in question, Judd Apatow, had nearly created his own subgenre of modern coming-of-age comedies featuring male friendships (regardless of the age his characters were ‘coming of’), a credible, genuinely funny, ensemble laugher starring all women was virtually unheard of. Or at least so it seemed at the time. Quotes on other posters included proclamations like, “Chick flicks don’t have to suck!” (Movieline) and “Better Than The Hangover!” (Cosmopolitan).

Ten years on, it seems both like yesterday when the film came out and also a whole era away: a time when women headlining a comedy movie was somehow strange, “chick flicks” were accepted to be a lesser form of cinema, and The Hangover was considered the pinnacle of hilarity. From a script written by Annie Mumolo and Kristen Wiig (who also stars), featuring a wedding where romance is in no way the focus of the movie, and starring a host of funny women, a smattering of gross-out humor, and some of the most honest and empathetic depictions of female friendship around, Bridesmaids was a beacon. And it shines just as strong today.

A week ahead of Bridesmaids’ 10th birthday (its original U.S. release was May 13, 2011), Den of Geek is chatting with director Paul Feig via Zoom. Feig is in Belfast and into week four of his fantasy adaptation The School for Good and Evil (based on the book). When we tell him we can’t quite believe it’s been 10 years he laughs, “You can’t? Imagine how I feel!”

While the movie itself remains fresh, funny, and sweet, that it was considered quite so daring just 10 years ago is a bit of a shock now. Certainly Feig never considered the movie to be subversive at the time.

“But everybody kept talking to us like it was!” he says. “It just made me mad because the whole subversive thing was, ‘Oh my gosh, it’s a movie starring women.’ And it was like, ‘Really?’ It was 2009 or 2010 at the time we were making it. It was like ‘Wow, if this is subversive, that’s kind of a sad indictment of the industry that we’re in.’ It was annoyingly subversive. It should not have been subversive. It should just have been a funny comedy starring funny people.”

He’s right of course. The fact is the movie was a benchmark. Feig explains that female writer friends who were pitching ideas for female casts at the time Bridesmaids was being made were all told across the board, “We have to wait and see how Bridesmaids does.” That is a whole lot of pressure for one movie—the idea that Feig’s comedy would influence the cinematic landscape for an entire gender. But the reality is, it did.

Feig is demure when we bring up how much the movie changed the film world, but he concedes that it did help to prove to studio execs that female-led films can make money.

“I’d been told in the years running up to that, when I would be pitching female-led projects, ‘Oh no, you can’t, because men won’t go see it. Internationally, it won’t work. Blah, blah, blah.’ All these rules, rules, rules, and you just start to go like, ‘Well, so we’re just going to accept those rules? So women can never have their own projects?’

“We were able to at least show them, ‘Look, if you do it, and it works, then audiences will show up. And not just female audiences. Men will show up.’ I think our movie benefited from the fact that women would bring their significant others to the film, whether they wanted to go or not, and then they could tell their friends, ‘Hey, you should see that. It’s really funny.’”

It worked. Bridesmaids was a massive success, both critically and commercially, grossing over $288 million worldwide (it’s the highest grossing Apatow movie to date) and bagging two Oscar nominations.

Bridesmaids isn’t the first female ensemble comedy, but it’s undeniable that it was a 21st century game-changer. Without it we may not have had movies like Pitch Perfect and its two sequels (if you think that film isn’t influenced by Bridesmaids, check out the poster), Bad Moms, Ocean’s Eight, Girls’ Trip, Feig’s own Ghostbusters reboot, Rough Night, as well as Melissa McCarthy vehicles Identity Thief, The Heat, Spy, Tammy, and The Boss.

Not every one of those projects is gold and nor should they have to be. The fact that they are allowed to exist and stand or fall on their own merits is crucial. It’s the equivalent of the idea that women in various forms of employment automatically have to be that much better than their male counterparts. Women should have the right to create and star in terrible comedies just as much as men…

Though she was relatively famous before Bridesmaids—perhaps most recognizable for her TV roles including as Sookie St. James in Gilmore Girls—it was Bridesmaids that truly pushed Melissa McCarthy into the mainstream. Nominated for a Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her role as sister of the groom Megan in Bridesmaids, since then McCarthy’s become one of the highest paid actresses in the world.

It’s quite astonishing, then, that Feig didn’t actually know who she was before he met her at a table read.

“I had never met her before in my life,” he laughs. “We brought her in for an audition because she was friends with Kristen and Annie, and we were having trouble casting that role. Then she just blew me away. And I can’t believe to this day that I did not know she existed until the moment I saw her because she’d been working a lot before that.”

Feig’s first encounter with the script and McCarthy was at a table read back in 2007. Feig says he was in the middle of post-production on an “unsuccessful Christmas movie” called Unaccompanied Minors, which featured Wiig, when Apatow called up.

“He said ‘I know you like to work with female characters, so you should come and see this.’” Feig recalls. “I remember just going like, ‘Oh my God, we can have an amazing vehicle for the funniest women we can find.”

It wasn’t until three years later though that the project finally came to fruition. Feig says all the basic structure of the script was there but with some differences to the detail. The airplane scene wasn’t originally in the movie, and the women made it to Vegas. The character of Officer Rhodes (played by Chris O’Dowd) was a little different. And the infamous dress shop scene, where the group gets explosively ill after Wiig’s Annie takes them for a meal at a cheap restaurant was, according to Feig, “a little more of a competition about Helen [Rose Byrne] wanting an expensive dress and Annie trying to steer towards a cheap dress.”

The dress shop scene in the finished film has become notorious with food poisoning landing in full force during a bridal fitting, McCarthy’s Megan straddling a sink, and Maya Rudolph’s bride-to-be Lillian forced to relieve herself in the middle of the road wearing a wedding dress. Yep, not only is Bridesmaids a film about women, it’s a film where women have violent diarrhea, a massive taboo, even still. Feig recalls it was a delicate balance to make sure it was character driven and not just gross.

“When we first came up with the idea and pitched it to Kristen, she was a little nervous, but rightly so. I mean, honestly, with Judd and I, two guys suddenly going, ‘Hey, let’s do this,’ it could have been terrible,” Feig says.

“We like to have these outrageous scenes that stick with you, but they can’t be outrageous just because, ‘Hey, let’s just have something, everybody shits and farts all over the place.’ That’s not funny to us. What’s funny to us is the idea of she’s competing with somebody who has more money. She has no money. She’s going to try to compete by taking them to a shitty restaurant and saying it’s a good restaurant. And it’s going to blow up in her face. How does it blow up in her face?

“The funny thing is she’s not going to admit in front of her nemesis that this blew up in her face. And so now the comedy is like, ‘We’re just going to throw so much evidence at you that you’ve screwed up.’ The comedy’s going to be like, ‘I’m fine. They’re fine. Nothing’s wrong. I’m not sweating. I’m not about to die.’ And that’s why it’s funny. Then that allows us to go like, ‘And now let’s just have the evidence be hilarious and go crazy with it.’”

So much of what works so brilliantly about the movie is the chemistry between all of the cast. Wiig and Rudolph were already best friends in real life, and the rest of the cast, who all came from the world of improv, had either worked together or at least seen each other’s work.

“The great thing about comedy people, in improv especially, is they’re not lone wolves,” Feig explains. “They live and die by the interaction they have with the people they’re working with. So you don’t get a situation where somebody is a diva or trying to be like, ‘Oh, they’re stealing my jokes.’ They want to make each other as funny as they can while they also make themselves as funny as they can. So it was just a wonderful, supportive set. I mean, we had so much fun. There were never any moments of anything other than just laughing and having a great time.”

Though most of the cast was recognizable, to a U.S. audience at least, from TV shows like SNL, since Bridesmaids their careers have boomed. As well as McCarthy’s enormous success, Wiig has most recently starred as a main character in Wonder Woman 1984 (with a chance she might return for another installment); Ellie Kemper is now best known as The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmit; Wendi McLendon-Covey is the star of The Goldbergs; and Maya Rudolph seems to be in everything—we loved her as the Judge in The Good Place, among other things.

Pre-Bridesmaids Australian actress Rose Byrne was probably best known for serious roles in movies like Sunshine, 28 Weeks Later and Troy, and while her character, Helen, is something of the straight woman of the gang, she’s had plenty of opportunities to exercise her comedy chops since, with movies including Neighbors, Instant Family, and Like a Boss.

Though the antagonism between Annie and Helen and the effect it has on Annie’s friendship with Lillian is the central tension of the plot, it was always important to Wiig and Feig not to turn Helen into the villain of the piece.

“Helen doesn’t really do anything terrible,” Feig explains. “I always said, we have to face this from Helen’s point-of-view, which is: Helen meets Lillian. Lillian’s this awesome, smart person. And she then meets her friend who she’s heard all these weird stories about and the friend is kind of a mess. And so to her, she goes like, ‘That’s kind of a toxic friend. I’m going to, in a very lovely way, try to steer Lillian away from this bad influence in her life and towards better things, because I think she can go better places.’ So from Helen’s point-of-view, everything that Annie is doing is terrible because Annie’s trying so hard.”

It means that Bridesmaids very clearly avoids the trope that women aren’t able to get along, and Feig and Wiig pointedly wanted to avoid any sense of it being a catfight.

“We like to redeem people at the end,” Feig says. “It’s really sweet to redeem Helen and go, no, she’s just this needy person who has a husband who was never home. And she’s trying. She clearly has no self-confidence whatsoever, no self-esteem and so she’s just trying to buy it. So it just makes everybody redeemable and lovely at the end.”

Feig says he’s always been fascinated by female friendships and says he’s mostly friends with women. It’s another reason it was always important to him that despite being a “wedding movie” that Bridesmaids kept the relationships between the women at the heart.

Says Feig, “I don’t consider this a romantic comedy, even with the Chris O’Dowd love story. To me, that’s just a prize at the end that Annie gets when she works herself out with her friend. But that’s what drew me to it. If you look at my other movies, I’m just obsessed with the idea of female friendship and exploring it on screen, because I just find it to be one of the most interesting and fun and sweet relationships in my life that I’ve experienced.”

It’s this authenticity that helps Bridesmaids still ring so true a decade on. Though a comedy about women, written by two really funny women, which isn’t a romance and contains farts and shits shouldn’t be subversive, it was definitely a trailblazer. And Feig concedes that it’s helped with “getting over that stupid hurdle of ‘chick flick.’”

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“I despise that term because it’s just a way for guys to dismiss movies starring the opposite sex,” he says. “Hollywood is not an altruistic town. They’re not going to do stuff just to do the right thing. It has to make money. We were at least able to show: look, you can actually make money and do the right thing.”

Bridesmaids is now exclusively streaming on Peacock.

The post Bridesmaids Ten Years on: “It Should Not Have Been Subversive” appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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notbang · 6 years ago

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sjsgjfghjfhfgj this has been sitting in my drafts for twelve hundred years and since @catty-words made all these wonderful gifs for me i guess i should probably answer it? anyway this completely ignores any and all faces from s4 and possibly anything after 3.11 because that’s how old this ask is.

i have had a lot of internal debates over what constituted a reaction face in an attempt to narrow this down, but i still ended up going over. here we go!

1. “you seem like a very confident, self-assured and conventionally handsome young gentleman.” one of my favourite things about nathaniel is his ability to be chuffed by comments that are very clearly not intended to be compliments. that’s self-love, babey!!

2. “you’re like a young me. so, listen, young me--” even this cocky little shit cannot see the compliment in darryl likening him to a younger version of himself, and thus we are gifted with exasperated!nathaniel. that ‘mm, is that what we’d call it?’ pause. that heavenward eye-roll praying for patience. a Classic look.

3. “you’re about to ruin the lives of these innocent, semi-hard-working people.”/”i have offered to show my ample bosom to so many gross old men.” this is the calm before the storm. the confusion before the arousal. this idiot thinks everyone in the office is dramatic when he is, in fact, the Most Dramatic. whitefeather perplexes and vexes him in equal measure and rebecca bunch is no exception.

4. the coffee creamer hand brush oh my! look at this touch-starved dumbass!! rebecca bunch touched his hand and he is freaking out!!! his soul just left his body and transported back in time to the regency era because that is where that physical contact belongs!! jane austen would be aghast but also proud.

5. “and there was that rando kiss that happened between us, but that happened and it’s never going to happen again.” this is the smug face of someone who has no idea the kind of mess he’s going to dissolve into over the next few days as a result of that rando kiss and actually thinks they have some kind of upper hand here. what a sweet, stupid summer child.

6. “you think i moved my wedding up because we kissed?” nathaniel j. plimpton iii very much thinks rebecca nora bunch moved her wedding up because they kissed, mostly because he’s a cocky little shit but also because it was a very good kiss, a kiss that no juice cleanse can control.

7. “status reversals... they’re confusing and arousing.” rebecca bunch really just did that... handed this smitten dweeb a two word summary of their entire schtick, and of course the gentleman doth protest too much.

8. everything rebecca does in ‘strip away my conscience’. equal parts seduced and being aggressively pelted by shoes. which again: confusing and arousing.

9. “i would love to have sex with you again.” look at these heart eyes! this is the best news he has received all year! rebecca bunch just announced she’d like to fuck him and he’s looking at her like she’s a cat video compilation on youtube. this boy is a gooey mess!!

10. “parts of me do.” he was trying to be funny and tentatively sexy but rebecca bunch is Going For It and he guesses it’s okay if he touches his dick a little bit??

11. “i am now your superior.”/ “thirty hour work weeks. mandatory nap breaks. two hour lunches.” the fearful outrage that can only exist inside a recently oppressed white man. nAPS??

12. a bonus, because i decided this didn’t constitute a reaction face, per se, but i put it in anyway: “i’ll forget about everything else. and everyone else. for you.” this matter-of-fact nod! he Feels Things for rebecca bunch them’s the cold hard facts.

#crazy ex girlfriend #nathaniel plimpton #it's hot here in hell so ship it all away #rebecca x nathaniel #replies #catty-words #i asked cori if she thought i would finish this before the series ends and she said no #so i finished it out of pure spite #that's love bitch!!#:*#all gifs generously made by her #it's doth done i doth did it

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demyrie · 6 years ago

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I've seen you talk a lot about love language, and it's something I'm slowly but steadily learning. I have a question about it! What can you do if you know someone who has a very incompatible love language with you, or who reacts poorly to your love language? Multiple times now I've had friends who would get almost hostile towards my ways of showing care, and its so upsetting to me that i sometimes stop being friends with them. It then makes it hard for me to show my love to other people (1/2)

Oh what a wonderful question. I adorelove languages as a concept, because they’re as diverse as the peoplewho “speak” them. Which might be why ... this definitely turned into an essay.

First off, sweet thing!! I’m sorry tohear that you’re getting that kind of reaction from your displays ofaffection! It can be really, really discouraging to be brave and openup to somebody, or offer affection, and get backlash or a negativeresponse … it does teach us that maybe there’s something wrong with what we’re doing, but you have to remember what dialect of love languagepeople are coming from and what your affection might “look” liketo them out of context.

Speaking Across Love Languages: It’sKind of Like the Dog and the Potato!

In case you haven’t seen this wonderfulthing that originated on tumblr, it’s a therapy dog who brings her crying person a potato, andit’s crushed hearts around the internet because of this generalhilarious sentiment: I don’t need it, but thanks it means the world inthis awful, awful moment.

And it’s funny, because animals offertheir love or care language and while it often doesn’t translate(thank you cat but I did not want this dead worm? Ok?), we are ableto gush and cry and appreciate the pure and whole effort itself,in and out of context, because “they don’t know any better”or “they’re just doing them dude” but we don’t offer the sameunderstanding to the people in our lives.

People learn affection in differentways and it differs greatly based on not only culture, but all theabundances and lackings you’ve experienced in life. We are programmedfrom an early age to value what we value, when oxytocin is runninghot through our developing little brains and wiring it with themental-emotional-chemical definition of LOVE that will follow usthrough our days, for better or worse. It can make both giving and accepting affectioncomplicated.

What Matters to You?

Make no mistake, many walk on this Earth without a clue what their love language is. To some that come from physicallyaffectionate households, cuddling and physical closeness is theheight of comfort. I love a good hug and I cuddle like a champ. Topeople who come from homes where they were rarely touched, however,being given a Classic American Comfort Hug might invoke anxiety …or they might crave it more than anything because they never had itwhile young.

To others, maybe their parents madethem food when they were sad and so cooking and the effort of itmakes them feel loved and cherished (see: my dude). To some, likemy dad, valuing someone’s time is the greatest sign of respect, andif you showed up late for something you may as well have spit in hisface. Conversely, the most important thing to these folks is justDOING things together. Doesn’t matter what, just time, and time spenttogether, is what matters, which perplexes Personalized Affectionpeople like me, who are left wondering why the fuck dad asked me tocome to home depot with him with no explanation because he’s takingtime away from the gift picture I was drawing for him???? which by the wayhe won’t show “proper” appreciation for, because really he justwanted to lurk around home depot with me.

(My dad is weird.)

Love Language and Miscommunications

So, something bad happens, we wantcomfort, and the people around us don’t respond the way we want themto. They don’t hug us, or say what we want them to say, and we takeit super personally and feel jilted or abandoned. We think, whyaren’t they comforting me, why are they purposefully ignoring ordenying me, without considering that people learn and enact comfortin different ways and under no circumstances can they read your mindand desires.

(I’m gonna share an epithet from Rae andmy struggles, as I’m sure she won’t mind.)

There was a time in Undergrad when @rainbowstarbirdrealized, in the process of discovering that we were indeed quitefucking depressed and mentally ill, that we were living in completelydifferent worlds. Our repressed personal problems fit together like avery awful tessellation of trauma that dug deeper and deeper withevery year: I feared being smothered and controlled and she fearedbeing abandoned, so every time I pulled away in fear, she ran forwardin fear, with both of us having no idea why we were getting so angryat each other, or why we felt like we were constantly in danger despite beinghonors students and on scholarship and good life and affordable housing and etc etc.

My comforting love language has alwaysbeen providing things for people and taking care of their physicalbodies. We were still struggling to be friends through all this and Ialso leaned heavily on my role as caretaker in order to divertattention from my own pain, so if Rae was upset, I would make herfood or tea or just ask if she was hungry. Rae, on the other hand,dissociates severely when triggered and the only thing that cananchor her is physical touch, and her top priority is having a lovedone sit and spend time with her to prove she’s not alone and hated.

Worst Case Scenario: Lost inTranslation

I come in and Rae is a lump on thecouch. The air is thick with some kind of tension, which Iimmediately interpret as personal resentment and I get triggered as shit bythe ongoing mental tape of everything you do isn’t enough, but I recognizethat she isn’t feeling good. I ask her if she’s hungry. She says no,and doesn’t say anything further because she’s afraid of being needyand giving me the chance to deny her and confirm her fears that yes i hate her okay bye. I, at a loss, say I’m gonnamake her tea, because I want to take care of her in some way.

So I head into the kitchen and leaveher alone and suffering on the couch, saying, in her language, that Idon’t care about her one goddamn bit. I come back with a mug ofuseless caffeine that she didn’t need, which she doesn’t drink, whichupsets me because she’s refusing my love language, which makes mefuck right off to my bedroom to fume because well I tried,leaving her alone again. Everyone suffers. And I mean everyone.

(so much suffering)

What the Hell Happened?

She prioritized time, which I wasn’tgiving her, because I didn’t just want to sit on the couch next toher and be awkward and useless, I wanted to help her (ie: do something for her).I prioritized actions and gestures, which she saw as incidentalthings, human shrapnel, and rejected because she had no use for themwhile so deep in her own belief that she wasn’t loved because Iwouldn’t even sit next to her and keep her company while she was obviously in pain.

See how fuckedthat is? We were not only failing to speak one another’s languages, but our actual languages ended up triggering each other. Bad. Bad!!!!

Now, the first thing I do is ask if shewants a hug! I tell her I will sit with her for as long as she needs,whether we’re playing video games or whatever, and reaffirm that Ilove her and value her. Now, when I’m in a State, she’ll ask if I’veeaten, because she knows the first thing I do when I start dipping isskipping meals to punish myself. She brings me tea and badgers meabout food, and of course cuddles me to kingdom come, and mostimportantly she smartly, altruistically, and respectfully asks mewhat would make me feel loved in that moment, and goddamn if that doesn’t make me feel loved in and of itself.

Becoming Fluent in Another’s LoveLanguage

The key is realizing your companions’love language and understanding how it fits into your own, if itdoes. If your partner’s language differs from yours, you can eitherappeal to them using their love language or try to recognize how whatthey’re doing for you expresses their values and try to be cognizantof those actions. In my mind, taking the effort to learn yourpartner’s love language is the height of devotion and appreciationand wooing.

It is such a powerful thing to say“this makes me feel loved!” or “This is really important to me,which is why I thought you might like it!” It feels … selfish,almost, or egotistical, but with affection you are offering ofyourself. There’s room for you to be involved!

And there is no “wrong” way to loveor show affection! The only way things go wrong is if your unmetexpectations are hurting you, in which case you might need toreevaluate either where those expectations came from or the personyou’re with and the way they treat you (EX: wanting someone to checkin with you 20 times a day with “i love you you amazing creature”texts is on a different level of expectations from I would like mypartner to listen to me when I talk and she doesn’t, am I beingoutrageous?) or if the person you’re wooing is upset by the wayyou’re showing affection. For instance, some people don’t like hugs,and it takes two to hug, and sometimes it just bes like that. Find what makes them feel loved (which is also something you are comfortable and happy doing)!

It may take a little bit ofnegotiation, and it’s difficult at first whenever enacting somebody’slove language doesn’t “do” it for you, and of course youshouldn’t force yourself to do something that feels gross to you toplease another person (nononononononono), but we are very plastic, trainable creatures.I get what I call feedback happiness whenever I do something I knowmeans the world to Rae, even if it doesn’t push my buttons, and shetakes pride in knowing that I like tea when I’m sad, etc, and that inthose moments my love language takes priority because I’m in need, and that I’m worth it.

Effort is love, sometimes. Most times, really, but the high is worthit :)

All This to Say: Get Talking!

It definitely sounds like there’s somebarriers or misunderstandings between you and those you’d like to befriends with … I remember back in the day, glomping was the heightof affection theatre and I fucking hated it (v sensitive about my neck and also fast motions and loud noises), but didn’t know how toask my friends to stop because I thought it was that or They Hate Me. I don’t believe there’s anyone you “justcan’t be friends with”, but you do have to sit back at a certainpoint and ask yourself if any relationship is fulfilling you enoughto continue it. If you aren’t finding pleasure and excitement in thebond or there’s no good compromise/effort between you to work on it,it may not be a priority to pursue.

So, I’d ask my friends – hey, youknow last time I did X, I wasn’t trying to scare you or make youuncomfortable. I guess I wanted to become closer, and that’s whatcloser means to me. Is there a way I can show you affection thatdoesn’t throw you off? What do you like to do? What makes you feelspecial? (Because I would like to make you feel special.) Encouragethem to talk about what they like and let them understand that you’re willing to go out of your way to communicate your love in a way they’ll Feel and Hear, and there’s pretty much no better feeling in the world than knowing someone likes you like that.

I’m sorry this turned into an essaybut!!! Important!!! I wish you the best of luck my love, know thatthere’s nothing wrong with you or how you relate, but that relatingtakes two, and takes time! Seek to understand what might be stopping them from seeing your affection for what it is, and come up with a compromise or shared language you CAN utilize.

I hope this increases your happiness and worth and makes you feel great because thats what friendships should do! Murr!

#trauma #love language #relating #mental health #depression #important #demyrie talks #figuring out a shared love language #Anonymous

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friendandphoe · 7 years ago

Text

@ahbonjour HAP BIRTH I LOVE YOU

Mags stares at the thick parchment in his hands, tracing over the now-broken wax seal with a confused reverence. Parchment and wax seals have always gone hand-in-hand with wedding invitations and royal decrees to him; the chicken-scratch that actually lives on the letter doesn’t seem like it’s worth the effort at first glance, but he’s already stopped himself from asking if the ink is, like, infused with gold or something about six or seven times after reading it. He still can’t believe he managed to forget about it for like, twenty billion years. “So, Stardew Valley.” He manages weakly, parchment trembling in his hands.

Mags doesn’t really remember much about his peepaw, honestly. Maybe the faintest hint of leathery skin and a warm smile, but the man died just before Mags went into middle school, just before The Diagnosis, so the memories were blurred and faded in favor of surgery dates and medication dosages--which, he supposes, could also account for the gap in his memory where the letter should’ve slotted in. It’s only by sheer, dumb luck that he happened to open the wrong drawer while spring cleaning and find it again; he shudders to think of what could’ve happened if he’d accidentally thrown the letter out. But as delightful as the words on the page had been, they were also kind of empty--Mags doesn’t think he’s visited Stardew Valley and his grandpa’s farm since he was like, nine or ten max. He vaguely remembers enjoying his time there, sure. He remembers a couple of the more outrageous stories--jelly monsters and glowing jellyfish and collecting grapes and berries to press into jelly--maybe he just really wants jelly, shit--and he kinda-sorta-maybe remembers cobblestone paths and thick forests and the smell of cows, but there’s not much beyond that. He’s been there before, he knows he has, but Stardew Valley is worlds away from his nine to five, more like a child’s imaginary playground than a long-dead grandfather’s gift.

The lawyer smiles kindly at him across her reddish desk, tucking a dark strand of hair back behind her ear and pretending not to notice when it falls right back out. “Stardew Valley,” she confirms, and he can’t help the thrill of home that races up his spine as she says it. “It’s about a six hour drive up north from here. There’s also a train that should get you there in about half the time. Each town has its own stops, so you wouldn’t have to worry about transferring lines if you do decide to take the farm.”

The farm. Christ. Right. He squeezes his eyes shut, tries to focus on the facts. “Which town is it in?”

“Pelican Town, Mr. Taylor.” He opens his mouth to ask her to please not call him Mr. Taylor ever again, gross, but she’s already barrelling on. “It’s an excellent area, from what I’ve heard. All the Stardew Valley farms turn large profits, of course, but Pelican Town in particular has been doing especially well.” She shuffles some notes around on her desk. “Mmm, forests, river, some old mines--it’s right on the beach, too, isn’t that nice. It looks like there’s been an influx of young single people around your age group moving into the area over the past five or six years, so you needn’t worry about being the odd one out if you decide to move in. Fairly good school district, in case you’re interested in starting a family. Your grandfather also left you an inheritance of a few thousand dollars to keep you afloat the first few months, while you’d still be getting your feet on the ground. All in all, provided you take the farm, it seems as if you’ll be well set up for a happy life. A little isolated, of course, it’s a bit out of the way and it’s not exactly a popular vacation spot, but citizen satisfaction looks to be quite high. The governor certainly has nothing but good things to say whenever he has to do his annual inspections.”

He’s not really listening at that point. “And what happens if I don’t take the farm again?”

“I suppose it’d be bought for land development,” Ms. Lawyer says, and his eyes fly open. “I hear JojaCorp’s been poking around the area, I’m sure they’d pay you quite a bit to take it off your hands.”

“Nnnope.” JojaCorp can eat my entire ass, he doesn’t add.

Ms. Lawyer laughs at his vehement bark. “Well, if you don’t want to take it on yourself, you could always sell it to one of the locals, or to a farmer looking to move into the area. It’s a pretty big piece of land, I’m sure someone would snatch it up pretty quickly.” She pushes some papers towards him, still smiling, somehow missing the pit of nausea bubbling in his gut. “If you’re still unsure, take a few days to think it over. You don’t have to jump into anything right away--”

“No, yeah, I’m sure,” Mags interrupts, looking back down at the letter, at his name in his grandfather’s handwriting. His grandfather, who loved this farm so much that he left it to a kid who could barely remember it in the first place. Ms. Lawyer is looking at him like he’s nuts, but somehow, impossibly, this doesn’t feel like it’s going to crumble into disaster. “I’m taking it.”

“That was...quick,” Ms. Lawyer says after a pause, cautious, confused, probably a bit concerned. “Are you absolutely sure about this, Mr. Taylor?”

Mags nods, already thinking of all the farming research he’s going to have to do when he gets back home. “Yolo, am I right?”

Which really does nothing to reassure Ms. Lawyer, but them’s the breaks.

~*~

The bus driver is a tall, fat blonde guy with a cigarette tucked neatly behind his ear. He seems pleasant enough; he’d smiled at him when he’d first gotten on and awkwardly ducked into the seat directly behind him, and there’s some people he’s greeted so familiarly that he almost has to wonder if there are such things as bus regulars. Either way, Mags is the only one left three hours and fifty-two minutes into the ride, and he grins knowingly at him from the rearview mirror, waving to take his headphones off for a second.

“Stardew Valley, buddy?” He asks, and switches lanes when he nods. “Yeah, I figured, not a lot of people take this route unless they’re heading back home from being out of town. Don’t think I’ve seen you around before, though, and I’m pretty good with faces. You visiting?”

“Moving in,” he manages, clutching his backpack just a little closer to his chest. Would it be rude to put his headphones back in? It would be super rude to put his headphones back in. Should he put his headphones back in anyway?

Bus Guy smiles brightly. “Oh, my daughter and I moved to the Valley back when she was a baby. Best place we ever lived, honestly. Everyone’s real nice, schools are pretty good, and it’s so quiet. Best of luck moving in, kid, I’m sure you’ll love it.”

“Thanks,” he says, and Bus Guy mercifully doesn’t attempt to draw him into conversation again, just lets him listen to his audiobooks and watch the trees flicking past thicken into groves, woods, forests, mazes. The sun is high in the sky now, and he watches the sky grow steadily more blue as some Southern belle explains when, exactly, the best time to plant tomatoes is. Does he even want to grow tomatoes? Does he want to grow anything? He read online about a girl in town who moved in a year or two ago and has made a living going down into the mines and collecting ores and stuff for her blacksmith’s shop. Maybe he could do something similar? Or there’s a bunch of shops around town, maybe he could work there and just live on the land--but that’s a huge waste of space if he doesn’t use it; maybe there’s another farmer he could rent the land to? Is that even a thing?

“Which town you going to?” Bus Guy says after another two hours, and he starts, peering through the window at the scenery around him, as if that’s going to help at all, dingus, you haven’t been here since you were, like, ten.

“Uh, uh, Pelican Town.” He stammers. Christ, he’s not usually this nervous. Particularly bad case of pre-move in jitters, apparently. “Is this a desert?” Because he really can’t think of any other explanations for all the sand and cacti, but he’s also pretty sure deserts don’t exist this far north. Like, at least ninety-eight percent sure.

Bus Guy squints out the window. “Oh, Calico Desert. There’s not much to it, really; some big business decided to build a casino something like ten, fifteen years back, and made a whole little desert town around it. Sort of a tourist trap, you know? ‘Xcept native Valleyers don’t have the time or interest to waste their money gambling, and we don’t get too many visitors, so. Casino’s kind of falling apart at this point. ‘M sure there’s some squatters or rowdy teenagers hanging around, but we haven’t heard about anything so far, so no one’s really gonna look too deeply into it. Might as well let the place rot, I say, it’s not like anyone’s gonna be using it. Town’s doing okay, though, from what I’ve heard. Speaking of, Pelican Town’ll be another ten minutes, bud.”

“Thanks.” Mags says, feeling faint. Ten minutes is plenty of time to steel his nerves, to get control of his breathing, to think of some funny one-liners to ensure the town’s gonna like him--

He blinks and it’s gone. College presentations lied to him. “Well, here’s your stop, then,” Bus Guy says, rumbling the bus up to a small, pleasantly grassy field, surrounded by reaching trees and dotted with dancing flowers. There’s a very, very, very tiny little rest stop that looks like it has one, maybe two bathroom stalls max, and a wooden sign that’s too far in the distance for him to read what it says. It’d make for a pretty quaint image, if Mags didn’t feel like he was going to vomit all over it. “Hey, looks like someone’s waiting for you!” He whistles. “Damn, what a looker.”

And sure enough, neatly seated on one of the wooden benches tucked against the street, sits a lovely dark-skinned girl, hair twisted down her back and pleasant smile gracing her round face. She looks warm and sweet, the kind of person who’d give really great hugs and gently introduce him to his new home without overstimulating him. He clambers to his feet, swings his backpack on, and steps out into the aisle, except when he looks down he’s sitting in the exact same position he was two seconds ago, and his hands are shaking.

Bus Guy glances up at him from the rearview mirror after five minutes of him thinking that he’s stood up, only to find himself still glued to the seat. “You gettin’ off, kid? Ain’t gonna keep the lady waiting, are you?”

He’s going to throw up. “I can’t believe I live on this bus now,” Mags says, staring hard at his backpack so that he doesn’t have to look at the pretty girl waiting outside.

“...uh-huh.” Bus Guy says, clearly not knowing what to do, which. Yeah, fair, Mags doesn’t really know what to do, either. “Uh. Hm. I’m just gonna--” and he swings the door open and throws himself out of the bus, probably relieved to finally stretch his legs after such a long drive. Mags swallows, hard, painful, and curls over his backpack.

It was easy, back at the lawyer’s office, to say yes, to slot himself into this community without a second thought. Easy to shed the shackles of a desk job he’s always hated, easy to bid the few friends he had goodbye and pack up his stuff and have it all shipped out and end the lease with his landlord. Now he’s faced with the consequences of his decisions, and he’s not entirely sure that’s not the bitter taste of regret in the back of his throat. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. It hadn’t felt like it, back when he was saying yes to all the terms and agreements, but his intuition has failed him before--usually on events of a much smaller consequence, though. Should he go back? But he already cut all his ties back home, stupidly, impulsively, convinced he’d love the Valley at first sight and everything would play out like a saccharine Hollywood blockbuster. He’s pretty sure Brad Pitt doesn’t get nauseous at the idea of saying hello to a bunch of strangers, though, so maybe that whole idea was doomed from the start.

“Are you okay?”

He jolts up, meeting the pretty girl’s dark eyes with stained cheeks. “Oh--oh--yes,” he stammers, clutching his bag tight. “Yeah, I’m--it’s good.”

The girl sits herself down in the seat across the aisle from him, folding her hands neatly in her lap, not dissimilar to how she was sitting before. “I’m Lark. Frasier,” and she offers a hand, which he weakly shakes. “I work at the saloon, among other things. Also kind of the unofficial greeter, which is why you’re meeting me first and not David or Emile. The bus driver asked me to come in and check on you. Guess you’re nervous, huh?”

“No, I’m Mags,” he says before he can stop himself, and Lark’s eyes crinkle with delight as she laughs, long and loud. “Shit, no, oh my god, I didn’t--that wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Lark grins at him, patting his hand. “Don’t apologize, that was good. Top tier dad humor. Mags, did you say?”

He nods bashfully. “Sorry for not getting off the bus,” he blurts out, and Lark’s face grows instantly sympathetic. “It’s been. A bit of a day.”

“I can imagine,” she hums, patting his hand again. “Don’t even worry about it, Ethan was the same way when he moved in, and he was just coming in from another town in the Valley. Want me to sit with you while you collect yourself? Okay, cool,” at his hesitant nod. “Want me to keep talking?” And she launches into a story, smooth and lilting, and Mags would absolutely be lying if he said he knew what words were coming out of her mouth. He briefly catches something about some stuff gone missing, but mostly he’s just focusing on the sound of her words falling, like pearls from her lips, bursting with warmth in the stale bus air around them. Little by little, he steels himself, manages to scoot his butt all the way to the edge of the seat, then stands in one completely-graceful-and-not-at-all-stiff-from-sitting-in-one-position-for-six-hours motion.

Lark cuts herself off--he just manages to catch something about a library, he thinks?--and rises with a wide grin. “Hey, there you go! You good to head outside?”

Mags swings his bag over his shoulders, takes a deep breath. “By all that you hold dear on this good Earth, I bid you stand, Men of the West,” he says, sending a quick prayer up to Viggo Mortensen for strength, and gets off the bus.

~*~

“Thanks for sitting with me, also,” Mags remembers to say seven minutes later, when they’re traipsing up the dirt path towards the farm.

Lark waves him off. “Oh, don’t worry about it. You did the hard work, anyway. I’d just hate to force you into an uncomfortable situation if we can avoid it.”

He smiles, hefts his backpack a little higher over his shoulder. “I appreciate that.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t even imagine doing what you’re doing. My family’s one of the oldest in Pelican Town, we’ve been here for ages. Like, our parents would take us for vacations when we were younger, but other than that we’ve never really left, you know? I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

“Helps that I didn’t really like my last place too much,” he offers, because she looks like she’s going down a rabbit hole, and she flashes him a quick smile.

They walk in silence for another minute or two before Lark pipes up again. “You know, Donnie and I have made friends with a couple of the other move-ins. If you want to hang out with us and talk with someone who knows what you’re going through. Once you get settled, of course.” She pauses, then turns to him with bright eyes. “I hope you’ll like it here as much as they do.”

He opens his mouth to reassure her that he’s sure he will, that even just walking up this gross old dirt path with a rock at the bottom of his shoe has made him happier than he’s been in awhile, that even the concept of said path definitely turning into mud next time it rains gets him strangely excited, but then Lark’s pushed open a wooden gate, ushered him onto his new home, and all the breath gets knocked out of his lungs.

So, Mags’ first impression of the farm: uh, bad.

“I promise it looks worse than it actually is,” Lark says quickly, trying to hide a sheepish grin at the look on his face. He can’t tear his eyes away from the obscene amount of overgrown grass and weeds, the newly-sprouting trees already twice his height, the rocks and boulders and stumps that were clearly left by God Herself because there’s no way anything but divine intervention could’ve left those fuckers on his land. “Emile’s been trying to round up some teams to clean up some problem areas around town, but, uh. I guess Abigail and the boys have been slacking off since Emile and Beck left for their honeymoon? Christ. The soil’s still good, though, and I can round up Donnie and Fox and Alexa and Dave to help you clean up, if you want--”

“The hell you will,” says the blonde beanpole who’s just slipped out of the worn-down, tired-looking wooden cabin tucked away to their right and definitely didn’t scare Mags half to death. He didn’t think it’d be so easy for some tall guy in round wire-rimmed glasses and a beret to scare him, and yet. “We didn’t have anything to do with this mess. Get the ass squad to do it, they’re the ones who should’ve been cleaning this shit up in the first place.”

Mags finds his voice, blinking hard. “The what squad?”

Lark looks like she’s trying really, really hard not to burst into giggles. “Abigail, Sebastian, Sam. They, uh, figured out that their initials spell ‘ass’ a few years ago and they sort of ran with it. I’m sure you’ll see them around, they’re only a bit younger than us. Just look for a girl with long purple hair followed by two Final Fantasy-looking dudes.”

“They’re also a bunch of assholes, so it fits.” Beanpole says, slouching down the stairs and sticking out a hand, ignoring Lark’s click of protest. “David Peterson, by the way. Deputy mayor, officially, but I kind of do everything around here. You’ll be seeing me a lot. Sonny Magnum Taylor, I assume? Hell of a name.”

“You can just call me Mags,” he manages, quickly clasping David’s hand. “Get that hell content down, am I right?”

David cracks a smile, and Mags smiles back. “Works for me, dude. I promise I wasn’t creeping, by the way, I just needed to double-check that all your boxes got here okay. If you find out you’re missing anything, I stuck my number on the table, just give me a call. Or you can come visit me, whatever’s easiest. I’m just south of here, with the green roof. If I’m not home, you can just talk to my boyfriend, he’ll tell me what’s going on and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

“Thanks.” Mags says, like he’s going to retain any of that. David nods, then crosses over to Lark, asks her something, and Mags lets their conversation fade into the background along with the birds and frogs, studying his new home a little more closely. There’s a small pond tucked behind a massive stump, and he thinks he can see the framework of a greenhouse somewhere in the distance. There’s this sudden, overwhelming wave of remembering that this is his now that washes over him, and Lark and David both turn around at his sharp inhale.

“You good, Mags?” David calls, and he nods, grinning widely.

“It’s gonna be so beautiful,” he declares, holding his arms outstretched like he’s in an anime. It feels right, somehow. All of this feels so, so right.

Lark grins at him. “You thought about what you’re going to do with it?”

He lowers his arms sheepishly. “Crops, probably? What else could I do?”

David sticks his hands in his pockets. “One of our neighbors, Marnie, she sells animals. Cows and horses and birds and stuff. Maybe--”

Mags has already whirled around fully. “Birds? What kind of birds?”

“Uh, like chickens and ducks and shit, I think,” David says, raising an eyebrow at Mags’ enthusiastic fist pump. “Well, I guess that’s settled.” He remarks to no one in particular, and Lark laughs, calling a goodbye before heading back down the road towards town.

“Ducks!” Mags shouts, delighted by this turn of events. “Ducks and chooks and crops!”

~*~

Of course, he doesn’t get to march down to Marnie’s and pick up his ducklings and chicks immediately. There’s work to do, first--step one being clearing away all the mess that Sam, Abigail, and Sebastian had left to grow wild.

Luckily for him, Lark delivers on her promise to help, showing up at his gates the next morning with her dreadlocks pinned back in a bandana. “This is my brother Donnie, and this is Fox,” she says of the two men flanking her on either shoulder. Fox, a big scarred redhead with a thick Irish accent, gives him a curt nod and grabs the axe Peepaw had left behind with the property, immediately setting out to clear away some of the trees. Donnie, who manages to startle Mags with how similar he looks to Lark, despite previous knowledge that they were twins, is a lot friendlier, sticking by Mags’ side to help cut grass and clear weeds, taking on the work with the same bright smile as his sister. Lark, meanwhile, starts collecting trash and debris, starting a small mountain of black trash bags at his gate. The work is hard, sure--Mags has literally never held any sort of tool in his life before, and his hands are blistered to hell and back by noon, but it goes quick, the air mostly friendly and enthusiastic.

Mostly.

There’s a lot of teasing and friendly banter back and forth between the twins, some of which extends to Mags but most of which is directed at Fox, who’ll retaliate with a scathing remark every once in a while, but usually ignores them. Mags wants to give him the benefit of the doubt, assume that he doesn’t mean to be as scary as he’s being, but it’s certainly disconcerting to hear him telling Donnie to get his “useless ass back to work, Frasier, or yeh’ll find mah boot up there instead!”

Mags shakes his head as Fox’s broad shoulders disappear back into the trees. “He’s scary,” he murmurs, sitting back on his heels and pushing his sunhat off his forehead a bit. “He’s not even talking to me, and I kind of want to cry.”

“What, Fox?” Donnie asks, tucking a stray dreadlock back into the bun at the top of his head. “Nah, man, Fox is great! Masks his social awkwardness with a big tough-guy act, you know? Don’t look at me like that, it’s not like he means any of it. He’s not mad or anything, he’s just naturally gruff. He’s a war vet, came to the Valley to get some peace and quiet. He mostly hangs out on the beach, but Lark’s got him wrapped around her finger, so--” He trails off, waggling his eyebrows.

“Go fek yerself,” Fox grumbles, emerging from the thicket of trees with an armful of lumber, but the ruddy blush staining his cheeks doesn’t really do much to deny Donnie’s statement. His pink cheeks make Mags feel better, somehow. “Mags, where d’yeh want these?”

Mags bites his lip uncomfortably. “By the house, I guess? I don’t know, you probably know better than I do.”

Fox’s stony gaze softens ever so slightly. “Yeh’ll learn, lad,” he says, a shade less gruff than before, and traipses off.

Donnie grins. “See? He likes you, just give him some time to show it.” He’s quiet for a minute as Fox comes back into view, checks to make sure he’s well and truly disappeared back into the trees, then says, “He’s a good guy to have on your side. He stripped naked once to get me out of a fight I was losing.”

Mags chokes. “Seriously?”

“For sure, dude,” Donnie says, leveling his scythe and chopping down some grass in one smooth, practiced motion. “Justified it with something like ‘no one wants to fight a naked guy.’ Middle of winter, too, bless him. He’d do the same for any of us, you know. He’s ride-or-die. Anyway, Lark likes you, so that’s already like, five points in his book. Plus, he moved into the Valley too, so y’all can bond over that.”

“I’m not desperate to like, get in his pants or anything,” Mags says, because somehow that seems like a good way to get his ideas across.

Donnie shrugs. “Same rules apply if you were, broski. Anyway, Lark’s staked her claim, so we’d have to hook you up with someone else anyway. Don’t stress out over Fox, my dude, he’s not going to be mean to you, you’re new and adorable. Speaking of, do you want to join us for movie night tonight? Whole squad gets together on Friday nights after hanging out at the saloon for a bit and we watch terrible movies. Ethan figured out it’s, like, ten times better if we turn off the sound and make up our own dialogue for it, so that’s fun, plus we can get Toby in on it that way. And there’s always a shit-ton of snacks, Lark’s a baker. We’d love to have you.”

Mags yanks a stubborn weed out of the ground. “How many people will be there? I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

“You kidding me? Lark and I have more space than we know what to do with. Please come and intrude.”

“It’ll be fun, Mags!” Lark calls, hefting another trash bag into the pile. “It’d just be eight, including you. Plus you’ll get to meet everyone! They’re all really nice, I promise. No pressure, of course, but we really would love to have you along. Fox, come and sit down for a second, don’t overwork yourself over there!”

Fox wordlessly obeys, sliding down in between Mags and Donnie. He takes a long gulp of water from the bottle Lark hands him, then wipes his mouth and says, “Might have to head out soon, got some shoppin’ to do an’ I wanna get o’er there before Pierre closes up. Got some good work done today, so.”

Mags realizes a second too late that Fox is talking to him. “Oh, yeah, no, that’s fine! Thank you--thank you all so much, I couldn’t have done all this on my own.”

Lark lays down next to her brother, flat on her back. “What’re friends for?” Something in Mags’ chest gets all warm and fuzzy at that. “I can stick around and help you unpack everything inside, if you want. It’ll go faster with two people, plus it’ll be more fun that way. Donnie, what’s your game plan?”

Donnie pauses. “Actually, I think I need to head over to blacksmith’s shop later today--”

“Yeh always need to go to th’ blacksmith’s shop,” Fox says, cuffing his shoulder. “Lad’s head-o’er-heels fer th’ girl what works there,” he adds to Mags, who starts.

Donnie puts a hand over his heart. “I’m a sucker for a pretty face and buff arms, what can I say. Why do you think I like you so much, Foxy?”

“Dinnae. Ask ‘er out already, Christ.”

“Actually, though, I left one of my knives there on Wednesday, I need to grab it real quick.” Donnie says as if Fox hadn’t just spoken, picking grass out from under his fingernails. “Ye of little faith. Mags, are you coming to movie night? Pre-salooning totally optional.”

“I, uh. Yes?”

The twins erupt in cheers. Fox claps him on the shoulder, just once, but the approving weight of it settles in Mags’ bones for hours afterwards.

~*~

David and his tiny boyfriend (“Ethan Thtone,” he introduces himself with a gap-toothed smile. “Nith to meet you!”) are also not into the pre-salooning scene, thank god.

“Not that anyone gets, like, sloppy drunk or anything,” David says, Ethan firmly tucked into his jacket, little more than a lump under his arm. “But it’s loud, you know what I mean? Sometimes I just don’t have the energy to deal with everyone. Sweetheart, you’re wonderful and I love you, but if you say anything right now I will expose you to the elements.”

“Oh, that thpring chill, though,” Ethan quips, smirking. “My only weakneth. Latht time he went to the thaloon, Donnie beat him at pool, tho now he refutheth to go back on printhiple. Babe, no!” Because David has, rather unceremoniously, opened his jacket and increased his stride so that he’s just ahead of his boyfriend. “Thith guy,” he says fondly to Mags, raising his voice to make sure David can hear him. “Can’t handle a bit of teathing, like a thcrub. How’re you thettling in, Magth?”

Ethan, Mags discovers quickly, is insanely easy to talk to. There’s gotta be something in the water here that makes everyone so pleasant. “So far so good, thanks. Donnie, Lark, and Fox were helping me clear off some of the land this morning, and Lark stuck around to help me get unpacked after that, so we’re doing okay on that front. I also started mapping out what I want to do with everything? Like, it’ll take me a bit to get the money and stuff, but I think I want to get birds? David mentioned someone has chickens and ducks for sale--”

“Marnie,” Ethan nods.

“Yeah. So I’ll need a coop, plus food and stuff for the winter. I think there’d be enough grass for them to survive off that for now, though. I need to research more into it, honestly, I don’t know enough to get them now and now kill them.”

Ethan pats his shoulder. “I’m thure you’ll do great. You could talk to Toby about it, though? Thee workth at the library, tho thee can help you find any bookth you might need. Probably.” He adds, biting his lip.

Mags blinks, partially out of surprise and partially from the sudden bright lights of main square Pelican Town. “Probably?”

“We’ve had some books go missing recently,” David says, finally stepping back behind his boyfriend and wrapping him back up in his jacket. Ethan coos happily, and David drops a kiss on top of his head before continuing, “Toby’s gone berserk trying to figure out how it happened. Near as we can figure, someone probably borrowed the books and forgot to return them, but the library also doubles as our museum, and all our artifacts have gone missing, too, so. No explanation for that. Toby’ll know more about it than I do, you can talk to her when we get to Donnie and Lark’s place.”

“Pluth you can athk about your duck bookth,” Ethan pipes up helpfully, and Mags brightens.

The Frasier’s place of residence is a huge off-white house just offset from the main square, with a dark brown roof and trim, ivy growing pleasantly up the walls and a small vegetable garden as the front lawn. The lights are on in one of the windows, and he can see Donnie and Fox carrying blankets and pillows, Lark carrying plates of food, some other girls carrying a mattress. It kind of looks like something out of a fairytale, and Mags physically stops in the middle of the street to stare at it.

“You good?” David calls back, Ethan peeking out over his jacket zipper in equal concern.

“What kind of paradise land is this place?” Mags mutters, and Ethan laughs, wriggling out from David’s grip to go knock on the door.

“Oh, shit,” David says suddenly, turning to Mags. “How’s your ASL?”

Mags blinks. “My what?”

“ASL. American Sign Language. Do you know any? I completely forgot Toby’s deaf, no one even thinks about it anymore.”

“I--I don’t know any. Is that going to be a problem?”

David shakes his head, patting Mags on the shoulder. Lark has opened the door, ushering them in with a smile. “No, don’t worry about it, we’ll get someone to translate for you. Toby’ll be more than happy to teach you, I just can’t believe I forgot about it until now. Where’s Donnie?” He asks, bending down to hug Lark in greeting.

“Kitchen, I think. Hi, Mags, how are you?” Lark says, opening her arms in hug invitation, which Mags takes.

“I don’t know sign language,” Mags says into her shoulder, and Lark makes a noise of understanding, patting his back before gently shoving him towards a wooden archway--an honest-to-god archway door thing, as if this wasn’t ridiculous enough--which, apparently, leads into one of the nicest kitchens Mags has ever been in. Jesus.

Donnie waves at him, beckoning him over to the corner of the counter he’s claimed as his own. There’s a girl perched on the counter in front of him, all legs and broad shoulders and long hair streaked with blue and green and faded silver, and Mags suddenly can’t breathe because he didn’t know actual angels were allowed to come down to earth why didn’t anyone tell him. “Hey, Mags, this is Toby. She works at the library.”

She waves at him, smiling so her nose crinkles at the tip, and Mags is gone, just like that.

Talking to Toby through Donnie isn’t as slow and awkward as he thought it’d be. Obviously it’d go faster if he knew how to sign himself, but Toby’s really good at reading his lips, so Donnie really only needs to translate the words that Mags stutters on or accidentally slurs together.

Yeah, some books did go missing, she tells him, pursing her lips. Still looking into it, but no, I don’t think any of the bird books were taken. Which ones do you want?

“Uh, chickens and ducks, mostly.”

Toby smiles. Aww, I love ducks. I can just see you with a little flock at your heels. I’ll have to come visit you once you get them settled in. Why don’t you come by tomorrow and I’ll help you look for all the books you might need. Just promise you’ll actually return them, and she gives him a little wink. He might die tonight.

“I really appreciate that,” he tells her, and she smiles that crinkle-smile again. He’s really proud of himself for managing to stay upright throughout this whole exchange, honestly. He’s about to say he can’t think of a way to thank her but no, no, he knows exactly how to thank her. “Do you want help finding your lost books?”

Toby blinks, eyes wide, then her face splits into a wide grin. That’d be great!!! Thank you!!! I’ll explain everything at the library tomorrow!! Thank you so so so much!!!

He shrugs, trying and probably failing to not blush. “Least I can do. I’ll study some sign language in the meantime, so that you don’t have to be interpretor all the time,” he adds to Donnie, who grins cat-like at him, sending a chill up his spine.

“So Toby,” he says, as soon as the girl in question hops off the counter and heads out of the kitchen. “I see she made quite an impression on you, huh?”

Mags nods, watching the sway of her hair against her shoulders, the movement of her hands as she talks to Fox, remembering the crinkle in her nose. “I’m going to marry her,” he says, somehow managing to sound matter-of-fact and completely in his right mind.

And Donnie, bless him, doesn’t laugh, or scoff, or do a double-take or anything, just pats his shoulder and says sagely, “Fuck, buddy, you sure are.”

#this thing is thirteen pages long holy moly #anyway happy birthday!!#movie house squad exists in stardew valley au youre the mayor ((because youre technically in charge of movie house get it??))#i dont know what skully and i are doing but were in there too #anyway i hope you like this!! it was a joy to write!! i love you!!#movie house #stardew valley au #mags #sonny magnum taylor #((im only gonna tag him cos hes the main guy))#ahbonjour #creative-skull #museumlad #friends #my writing #shut up sara

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imlikepadfoot · 7 years ago

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The All Hallows Eve.

@potterpourii because I couldn’t let go of this post about a time traveling Harry who listening to the Marauders’ future. This is not a long fic, but it was running through my mind.

The All Hallows Eve hadn't been the most enjoyable of nights for Harry since childhood. It wasn't his favorite night because he hadn't the chance to appreciated it as a kid. The Dursleys went with Dudley on the run and he was usually left alone with Madam Figg to eat old cake that tasted funny.

When they would come back he was allowed to only eat sweets that Dudley didn't like and they weren't that numerous. All of the kids at school had looked forwards to that party and as usual, he was the only one to not had a costume on that day. So Halloween's parties and festivities weren't telling much to Harry and above all of this (he really did not care about those futilities) his parents had been killed that very night.

He never felt any kind of connection with this night, but this time, things had been different. Harry finally drag his eyes from the crackling fire and look at him, trying to contain the beating of his heart, trying to conceal deep inside the fact that he was about the explode out of joy.

-You alright there Will? A voice called him as a warm hand gently squished his shoulder. Harry grinned and shook his head stretching himself as Sirius Black let himself loudly felt on the couch beside him.

-That was a hell of a party. James Potter's voice said as he came down from the dormitory, messing up his hair with one hand as he was carrying bottles of Fire Whiskey with the other.

-You could have restraint yourself from disguising you into the tales of the Little Red Riding Hood. Remus Lupin groaned, getting down from the dormitory too.

-That was fucking hilarious Moon' what are you talking about. Said Sirius before laughing, his barking-like laughter echoing in the almost empty Gryffindor common room.

-Why was I the grandmother? Squealed Peter who had been quiet since they had been up to the common room.

-Because you're too small you couldn't have played the wolf. James said to him.

-Besides, wasn't I a charming male version of that little girl? Asked Sirius, winking at Peter before drinking directly from the Fire Whiskey bottle.

-Yikes Pads' this is gross! Remus said with disdain, taking back the bottle. -You gonna gives us flees, I'm not quite sure you know what showering means and yikes again, we don't know where your lips had hung out tonight so take a glass.

Harry and James both laughed, exactly the same laughter and James called him out, telling him to stop imitated him in everything he was doing. Harry nods and tries to pull back to his nose his glasses. Be he wasn't wearing any. In fact, he wasn't exactly himself at the moment.

He was smaller than he should have been, his jet black hair that was normally stroking at the back of his neck like James's hair did were flat and pale, his bright green eyes surrounded by glasses were now blue and without glasses. He wasn't Harry Potter at all, he was William Bishop.

How did he had ended up there, sitting in the Gryffindor common room in 1976, with his father, godfather and favorite teacher? That was a long story. But he needed that and since Hermione was the youngest Minister for Magic that ever was, it had its advantage. After several forbidden charms and spells, some modified time turner, he had found himself back in time.

He had promised to not interfere in the course of time, to let thing unfold. Even though, he had struggled with himself for months, wanting to hint his fathers about what was awaiting him if he didn't stop trusting Pettigrew right away. Of maybe it was the other way around?

He had seen Sirius and his father behaviors toward the awkward little boy who was craving for their attention and it wasn't as he had thought it was. They were not always gentle to him and underestimated him most of the time. if they could have known that this was gonna be the main reason for their downfall, maybe they would have done things differently. But how could they know?

-So, Will? You hadn't talked much about you. Sirius suddenly said, handing him the bottle of Fire Whiskey.

-There is nothing much to say really. Harry smiled, passing the bottle in his hands, not properly knowing what would be the correct answer to give them. He had to be very careful about the personal information he gives them and he had found out they were curious, very curious.

It was no surprise that had managed to crack Remus's secret so easily and they were craving for knowledge of forbidden and mysterious things.

-Come on, okay so here's an easy one, what do you want to do, where do you think all of this. Sirius gesture theatrically at the castle's walls. -Will lead you. Like, where do you picture yourself in, let say, five years?

-What are you doing Pads? Remus laughed. -Those are crazy ass professor questions, leave him alone.

-No, those are not and besides, you're the one who's gonna be a god damn teacher Moony and you're gonna show those kids the Marauder's way. Said Sirius, almost screamed as James told him to lower his voice.

God, he was loud. Harry never knew this side of his godfather personality. Well, Azkaban most have drag out of him this aspect of himself because he was never been that over-excited from the time he had known him. Right now he was, confident, loud, obnoxious and didn't care at all about others could thing. That hadn't changed at all Harry thought.

He had found out though, even if he had already seen it in the Pensieve many years ago, that his father was the only one who was able to have some sort of control over him and it was also true for the other way around. Remus could move sky and earth and James or Sirius wouldn't bat an eye. But if one of them said something to the other, that was completely different.

-So, are you gonna answered us or just stared at us? Sirius told him, bringing Harry back from his thought.

-Well, I don't know. I guess… I guess I'm gonna be an Auror I don't really see where else I could be. He answered briefly. -What about you Sirius.

-Me? He said as his smirk grown wider on his face.

-Oh God, please don't start him. Peter sighs, rolling his eyes as he exchanges the same annoyed look with Remus.

-I want to travel this world, I can't stay put, I've been lock up long enough at Grimmauld Place. He said, looking into the fire. -I've got some few places I want to see, there is so much more to this world and who knows, maybe I'll find some exotic girl to be with. He said laughing.

-What about me, you traitorous brother! James yelled at him, trying to look both shocked and outraged.

-Don't do that, Prongs, who know I'll become an Auror when I'll be back! Anyway five years from now you gonna be married to Evans and you will have at least three kids, where would you find the time to travel this fucking world with me. He said with a smiled, throwing candy at James. -This is what you always wanted, stable life with the mother of your children.

-Booooring. Peter laughed and he did harder when he got hit in the face by a Chocolate Frog thrown at him by James.

-She will be at home with our kids and I will be Head of the Auror Office. Pompously said, James.

-No, you will not, you fat head, you'll just come out of your training you git. Remus told him, throwing him some Berty Bott's Every Flavors Bean.

-Yeah, well that would be the same, but I will be at the top of this stupid class trust me. I'm born to fight against the Dark Arts and I will do so until the very end. He said as he was putting his hands behind his head. -And Evans will be my wife, I want no one but her, and I shall have no one...

-She can't stand you mate. Said, Peter.

-Well, she will! She must, I mean things aren't bad like they used to be now aren't they? At least I can talk to her a bit before she tries to hex me.

-Or drown you in the Black Lake. Said Sirius, rolling his eyes.

-That was an accident! I fell into the lake she didn't push me!

-Yeah, whatever! So what about you Moon', you'll be a teacher there is no way you'll do something else. Sirius said with another theatrical gesture. -Besides, it suits you so well.

-Oh and why is that Pads, please do tell me. Remus asked him, frowning.

-Because you fucking love to lecture people and as a teacher, they would be forced to actually listen to your lectures, you would be ecstatic as fuck!

-Well at least I know I'd be the best teacher around here, can you imagine McGonagall face when Dumbledore would tell her he hired me as a freaking teacher. She may die of a heart attack for sure.

Everyone exploded with laughter at that taught and Harry was the one to laugh the hardest. He had never known what was Professor McGonagall feelings about Remus teaching at the school, but he was right. He would be the best freaking teacher of Defence Against the Dark Arts the school ever has.

-What would you like to teach? Harry asked him and Remus shook his head and shrugs his shoulder.

-I don't know, honestly, I'd rather be working at the Ministry of Magic in the Dangerous Creature Department. He told him.

-You don't even like Care for Magical Creatures Moony. Peter reminds him.

-I know, but I want things to change…. He sighs. -If we won this bloody war there is hope for people like --- for people who had terrible diseases you know. He turns to Harry and looks at him with gravity. -Did you know that werewolves, for example, are not as bad as Greyback? But because of him, they are hunt down like mere animals who aren't worthy of the life they had been giving. I want that to change, even if people would rather stay blind about this.

-I think this is a wonderful idea, Remus. Harry smiled at him. -I… huh… I knew someone who had been turned into a werewolf --- the four turned briskly their heads in his direction as he was speaking, Remus in particular. -And I would have loved for him to be free of all of this nonsense and hiding.

Since his arrival in 1976 he had befriended the Marauders, but still, he wasn't exactly one of them so he had to be careful. They didn't know that he was aware of Remus ''illness'' that he knew about so many other things that he couldn't share with them.

-Pet'? Then asked James, turning to his friend who was quite. -What about you?

-Me? He said looking at them all, seeming stressed. -I don't know… I'm not particularly good at anything so I guess I'll just have to… try on some jobs and wait until I find the one that suits me the most… this is really the only plan I've got from now.

-Well, this is pretty interesting. Sirius laughed before yawning stupidly, taking another sip of Fire Whiskey, sneering and frowning at the taste. -So we've got three Aurors and one so much more awesome than the other two because I'll be a citizen of this world. He laughed harder when James threw him some candy. -And two boring Ministry Employees.

-I guess things are gonna change when we'll be out of the castle. Remus said, getting up before stretching himself.

-Five years from now on, things will be exactly the same as they are now Moon', don't you worry. We've got each other, everything will be fine, what could possibly happen? James said.

Everything would be fine. Harry had stuck to his father words, looking at them, their conversations seeming blank in his mind. Everything would turn to ashes he thought, everything would feel like a living hell. Five years from now, specificity five years and their world would change for ever. He'll die trying to protect his family, to protect him. Sirius would wrongly turn into a mass murderer because Petter over there would have found the perfect job.

And Remus. Remus would be left alone, thinking that Sirius had betrayed them all, mourning the death of James and Lily and Peter. Five years from now there laughed joyful little gang would be no more, they would have been divided long before with fear and doubt and suspicion. Harry would have given anything to froze time. To change the course of even just to stay with them, like this, laughing eating candies and drinking really bad Fire Whiskey.

That was perfect, that was what should have happened. They should have stayed like this, young, full of promises and hope that they were going out there to do something better with this world when in reality, that was their sacrifice that would help this world.

Harry suddenly stand up, telling them that he was going to sleep. He couldn't bear this anymore. He couldn't stand to look at them, so happy and innocent talking about the future they'll never have. He had gone through many insane things as such a young age but this. This he couldn't stand anymore and he would have rather face Voldemort once more than listen to his family predicted so wonderful things for themselves while they would be rotting six feet under ground in reality.

Life was unfair and cruel, and this scene was the ugly proof that they had been puppets of destiny and they couldn't have done nothing to escape that faith, even if they were all so brilliant. Harry let himself fall on his four wall poster bed and closed his eyes, tears dropping slowly as he wipes quickly wipe them.

His chest was hurting him as he tried to calm down, as he hardly told himself that he couldn't change the course of history, things were this way and he couldn't do anything about it, even though he was there, years before his time laughing with them. That was bullshit, that as painful and he couldn't stand it anymore.

It had been a wonderful dream, so wonderful days spend with them, learning about them, learning about what they could have been if the wars and that fatal night of 1981 hadn't killed them all. Because Sirius and Remus may have not been physically dead, but they died inside and Harry understand it on this day like never before. All of this because one of them choose the wrong side.

No more Halloween nights, cheering and laughing because of one's decision. No more puns about Sirius's name, no more whiny James talking about Lily and no more laughing Remus telling them to shut up. All of this because of one's decision. Harry had never felt so helpless in his whole life and that was the worst feeling to ever existed.

#Harry Potter #James Potter #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #peter pettigrew #au #HP #hogwarts #Marauders #marauders era #Moony #Prongs #Padfoot #Wormtail #imlikepadfoot

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masala-and-thunderstorms · 5 years ago

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Okay. I dislike being dishonest and I don't know a not-public way to do this, so... here goes, I guess?

The fun thing about having been stalked several times is you download a thing that tells you when certain blogs are looking at your blog. So I know someone I used to be friends with is reading my Tumblr, and looking for her name, presumably to see if I've talked about her. Which I haven't, because we haven't spoken in ten years. But maybe she wants to know what I think, so. Here's the story as I remember it.

Ten or eleven years ago, I was a teenager and a total mess. Abusive home life, health problems, money problems, etc. etc. Definitely not in a good place to make close friends, because I didn't have a healthy model of relationships. But I made friends with a girl who was funny and creative and sweet and a fantastic writer, and I liked her very much and also had a crush on her, and I leaned on her way more than you should lean on a teenage girl.

This wasn’t a one-way thing: we both frequently discussed our problems and offered each other a lot of support. But her life was relatively peaceful and very privileged, while I didn’t expect to live past twenty, and I had low enough self-worth that it didn’t occur to me that my problems would be a source of major worry. I also frequently hid or downplayed the worst of my issues, often to the point of outright lies which I only sometimes corrected later. In other words, being my confidante was fucking terrifying, and I had no idea.

She responded by talking about my secrets to, in approximate order, every single person in her grade in high school (which to be fair was only fifty people – she was a rich white girl; it was a fancy private school), several of her friends I’d never met, and all our mutual friends including one of my best friends who she wasn’t even friends with.

When I found out about the first fifty people, I wasn’t upset, because I didn’t know any of them and anyway it wasn’t the stuff I really cared about people keeping secret (my home life, my suicidal urges), and I felt bad that she’d been so worried and that I hadn’t realized. But when my own friends started knowing, it scared me, because I thought I was just obviously sick. And when it turned out she’d told them my secrets too, it was harder to understand why, because she already had so many other people she could talk to instead. Another thing I forgot until rereading old emails to see if I was just deluding myself is that she frequently reacted by breaking down and saying she was awful, and occasionally by begging me not to stop confiding in her, and I ended up putting all my energy into reassuring her that she was wonderful and I loved her.

It got worse when friends showed me the emails she had sent them. She painted herself as a hero and martyr, bravely and selflessly helping me through my plight without ever discussing her own, while I was fragile and insecure. (I was fragile and insecure, and I knew it, but she never talked to me about that either.)

As I met more of her friends and as more and more of them told me that she’d already shared my secrets, my emails, my private LiveJournal posts, etc, I finally expressed anger. She apologized frantically and then stopped talking to me for a week. She came back and, shockingly, I was still mad, and I didn’t want apologies -- I wanted a conversation about why she’d done it and what I could do to keep it from happening again. She said she still very much wanted to be friends, but she had feelings too and this was too much for her, and she proposed we try a less-close friendship. She said that at any time, I could send her a long angry email, but she wouldn’t reply. She concluded, somehow, with “Things can only get better. We’re going to be okay.”

In retrospect, this was very reasonable: it was clear that it had been too much for her for a long time. But at the time all I saw was that she’d lied to me and then disappeared, and now refused to engage in how I felt about it, so I agreed to drop it but made it very clear I was still mad. Another week without a response, I changed my mind and sent a letter saying I didn’t want to talk again.

That was the last I ever heard from her, but her response to various other people and on various forms of social media was, in no particular order:

- I was manipulative - It’s abuse to tell someone you love them and then tell them that they’re “a terrible awful person” every time they “accidentally hurt” you (what I had said was that I trusted her and she hurt me, not that she was terrible and awful) - It was unreasonable and outrageous of me to be upset that she’d shared a public post of mine (she never mentioned the multiple private emails and private posts and just straight-up private conversations she had also shared, presumably because it was more comfortable to focus on the single public post) - No matter how many people told her she’d done nothing wrong, she still felt guilty, because I’d manipulated her into feeling guilty

Ten years later, I realize that it’s a common tactic of privilege to say that the problem wasn’t you hurting someone else, it was them not being polite enough about how they expressed the hurt. But I’d spent my whole life being punished when I expressed hurt or anger, so I just took this as confirmation that I wasn’t allowed to.

Like most of this situation, I handled it badly. I spent years wallowing in guilt, wishing I could fix the relationship that I’d ended in the first place. I tried several times to apologize and get back in touch, and the first time I just missed my friend and didn’t know that she’d reframed “I really want to be friends but this is too much for me” as “I did nothing wrong and this was awful and unreasonable,” but once I did find out about that, I should really have stopped -- first because it’s gross and invasive to keep reaching out to someone who wants nothing to do with you, and second because apologizing would have hinged on accepting that she’d done nothing wrong and I was awful and unreasonable. Which I did accept back then, but I shouldn’t have.

She was in the stressful and difficult situation of being the confidante of a very sick and very suicidal person who had no idea how worried she was. I was in the stressful and difficult situation of trusting someone who constantly lied to me and had zero tolerance for conflict. Honest communication or healthy boundaries would have prevented the whole problem, but by the time I attempted the former and she attempted the latter, we were both too upset to see them as anything but attacks. And when it was over, we both accepted a narrative where it was my fault, because for different reasons it made both of us comfortable, and didn’t require either of us to actually change anything.

I’m not sure why she read my blog, whether she will read this post, or how to reach out beyond writing this. But if you’re here and you want to see my thoughts on what happened with us... there they are. Do with it what you will.

#personal

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fourteenacross · 8 years ago

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H’OKAY. SO. Last night we saw Dave Malloy as Pierre!! :D

We’d been planning this trip since they announced he was doing a series of shows--we knew we had to see him but we needed to make it work with timing and vacation days and stuff like that, so we ended up tagging this trip onto the front of my trip to Charlotte later this week, which inadvertently made it the first show after the Tonys, which we won’t talk about because I think I’ve made my saltiness on that front PRETTY CLEAR so far. With things working out the way they did, we decided that we should get a gift for Malloy to acknowledge how much this show has meant to us and that he won all the Tonys in our hearts. Initially I thought a plant was a good idea because flowers die and are also awkward to carry around. From there, my brain thought: well, we should put it in a box so he can just throw it in his bag. We should decorate the box. We should decorate the box to look like the theatre.

(At queer speed dating the other night, someone asked me which Parks and Rec character I most identify with. I said, “I feel like Ben Wyatt, but if you ask any of my friends, they’d say I’m Leslie Knope.”)

So, we decided all this on Monday night? So Tuesday was spent running around getting fabric and glue guns and putting all of this together. All of the little frames have pictures of members of the creative team. It’s PRETTY DARN CUTE, I’ve gotta say.

The entire day was a wild ride--we got the thing done just in time, then realized that my dad had taken my car keys with him so we were gonna miss the bus. Then he managed to get them to us in time for us to make the bus. Then the bus was stuck in traffic TWICE AS LONG AS USUAL. The florist was out of succulents and I had to run all over to find one. Literally run. I ran. With my legs and my lungs and stuff. It was the worst. But I managed to get to the theatre at 6:55 and use the rest room and get into my seat and chug a smoothie.

AND THEN THE SHOW STARTED!

First off, as you can see from the top picture that I wasn’t supposed to take, we were sitting in the rear mezz. We’ve only ever sat on stage before, so it was fascinating to watch the show from this angle. It made the lighting and set and choreography really come alive. I love sitting on stage--I love being at the center of the action and watching the show unfold around you--but I felt like I got a clearer picture of how the whole thing works as a cohesive unit from sitting in the mezz.

Still, the Imperial isn’t that big! Even sitting like, four rows from the back, I felt like we were right in the middle of things. And, bless that ensemble, the hardest working folks on Broadway, they were up and down the aisles even as far back as we were, dancing and singing and handing out shakers and playing instruments and who knows what else. At one point, Erica Dorfler was right in my face and she’s so pretty that I literally forgot how to shake my shaker, jesus christ. We had a great view of “Coachella Sonya” in the “Balaga”/”The Abduction” dance break, which I was into XD Also, Nick Gaswirth’s excellent dancing was only a few rows away from us.

There were a lot of tiny things I noticed from up high, too--Or and Nick Belton buddying around during “The Duel” and “Balaga”/”The Abduction,” the way Pierre reacts to things happening in the show as he sits in his little hole during the numbers he isn’t in, Anatole admiring himself in L I T E R A L L Y every mirror he walks by, though that might just be a Blaine Krauss thing XD “The Duel” in general was a really fun experience from up high--it was neat to see EVERYTHING instead of just being overwhelmed and in the middle of things. I was removed enough from the action that my brain had time to remember the first time we saw the show at ART when “The Duel” started and I was just like, “.....what the hell IS this show?”

I know I already talked about how good the lighting is, but the lighting is just so fucking good, you guys. The tiniest, most subtle little changes, the way that all the lights slowly go out during “Sonya Alone” until it’s just the spot on her, the lights coming down from the ceiling one by one in “No One Else” like snow falling, the use of the bright lights behind the doors, THE COMET, all of these wonderful, tiny little touches. It was beautiful.

In addition to Malloy, we had two other understudies! Blaine Krauss as Anatole was A M A Z I N G. Some understudies have a problem with trying to emulate the performance of the person they’re subbing for, but that was NOT THE CASE here. Blaine totally made the role his own--his Anatole was delightful and outrageous and over the top and full of himself and vain and hilarious. He definitely had a funnier spin on it than Lucas does, and almost more immature? Like, Lucas’ Anatole isn’t exactly a paragon of maturity, but he wants to THINK he’s mature. Blaine’s Anatole is just a brat and knows it and owns it. His comic timing was AMAZING and he hit the high C sharp and he was overdramatic and fun.

We saw Azudi Onyejekwe as Dolokhov, too! I’ve been wanting to see him as Anatole, but his Dolokhov was great. Much like Blaine, he didn’t try to emulate Nick, just went his own way with it. His Dolokhov was cocky, but not as mean as Nick’s (not a complaint--both are great interpretations) and more laid back and fun-loving. Dolokhov is a character without too much to do (as mentioned directly in the Prologue XD) and it would be easy for him to fade into the background, but much like Choksi, Azudi really kept him front and center in the scenes he was in.

The rest of the cast was phenomenal as usual--Grace had her everything dialed up to eleven, Amber got some of the loudest cheers of the night, Denee is a literal angel upon this earth and “No One Else” was more heartbreakingly beautiful than I’ve ever seen it, Gelsey was amazing, Paul Pinto is insane, Nick’s Andrey continues to be SO angry, and I would TAKE A BULLET for Brittain I love her so fucking much. The ensemble killed it, I do not understand how a person can run up the stairs while playing the clarinet, but there’s Cathryn Wake doing it like it’s no big thing.

And Malloy. MALLOY.

I feel so blessed to have seen him do this on Broadway. He was incredible. I mean, obviously he was going to be incredible, but his Pierre is SO different from Scott’s and Groban’s. He’s just tired and hunched and distant and awkward and it works so, so well. He pours so much of himself into this character and it’s so obvious, even from all the way in the mezzanine. His “Dust and Ashes” made me cry and feel a hundred feelings--the resounding applause and cheers he got afterwards was so heartening. It kept going on and on and on and that made me get all teary too. He was hilarious in “The Duel,” both in the actual dueling and the lead-up song. Watching him watch the other characters was like getting a whole additional show for the price of my ticket--his emotional journey makes even more sense if you factor in what he’s seeing from the people around him as the story plays out. He and Denee and Gelsey doing “I see nothing but the candle in the mirror” gave me chills and I loved the way he did “Nothing matters--or everything matters, it’s all the same.” It was a really cool take on the line. He was great during the toast part of “The Abduction,” with a funny little pause before he started that was either because he was genuinely out of breath or entirely for comedic effect. Either way, it worked XD

And, of course, the end of the show was beautiful. From his “whaaaat”s to Marya and his angry threatening of Anatole and desperate need to understand first Andrey and then Natasha...my heart. His spoken lines were so perfect and I started bawling in “The Great Comet of 1812″ and basically didn’t stop until the show was over.

God, the end of this show WRECKS ME in a totally different way than something like Hamilton wrecks me. My feelings in Hamilton are all about the story, about Eliza and AHam’s legacy and all of that. My feelings at the end of this show are all internal--it’s how this moment is making me feel and the connection I’m having with Pierre and with the ensemble and the music at this particular point in time. It’s so hard to explain, but it’s like...cleansing. That sounds ridiculous, BUT THERE YOU HAVE IT.

ANYWAY, after the show we went out to the stage door. It was about nine hundred degrees outside STILL and it took me about two minutes to turn into a gross sweat monster. We were surrounded by all these sweet teen girls who looked perfect and refreshed and it was mildly hilarious. We chatted with people as they came out, including Scott who was smiling vaguely as he walked by until we said, “We saw you at ART and you were great!” and he did a double take and ran back over to talk to us.

Malloy finally came out and got down to us around 10:30 and we talked to him and told him how much we adore this show and how great he was and gave him his dumb gift and I made him sign my Great Comet book and take a selfie. I do not remember most of this conversation, but I am pretty sure I didn’t entirely embarrass myself.

And then we left and got frappachinos because I was dying for a milkshake and technically can’t have them. And we went back to Port Authority and took the bus home and went to bed and THAT WAS THE END OF THE NIGHT. Whew.

#natasha pierre and the great comet of 1812 #stuff i've seen #show notes #theatre #dave malloy #my face

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maedarakat · 8 years ago

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Margin for Error - Chapter 7

Part 1 – Part 2 – Part 3 – Part 4 – Part 5 - Part 6

Ruff groaned irritably as she dunked the next dish into greasy, sudsy water. It's not so bad, just a small pile left, then you don't have to even think about dishes until after dinner, she told herself. You can do it.

It wasn't that the task was particularly hard, it was just unpleasant. Globs of oil skimming in the water's surface, damp drying towels, mysterious floating debris in the lukewarm cloudy water that bumped against her submerged hands . . .

She. Hated. Doing. Dishes.

It was even worse this morning, when the water couldn't seem to stay heated. Fishlegs' idea of dropping dragon-heated rocks into the tub was far better than waiting for a pot to boil over the fire, but it could use some fine tuning; those heated rocks hadn't lasted very long against the frigid temperature of the well water. The tub had barely stayed hot enough to allow Ruff scrub the bacon grease off the skillet. And now her sponge resembled a wet lump of black lard. Ugh, gross.

It was impossible to clean off the dishes any longer like this - maybe she could go out on the deck and summoned a dragon to give the water a friendly little blast. Ruff was already hearing the sound of big wings. Was that Hookfang?

She saw the big orange dragon and hurried to flag him down, nearly tripping over a box that someone had placed in the doorway. A box full of dishes . . . greasy, moldy, crusty dishes - even a scorched pot or two. Who had -

"Hi!"

Seething, she spun around on the owner of the voice.

"Hi, Snotlout!" Ruff greeted through her teeth, oozing with dangerously false sweetness. "What's all this?"

"Oh, well, Astrid told me earlier to grab all the hoarded plates us guys hadn't brought back to the kitchens so they could be cleaned."

"I believe she asked us all to do that a month ago." Ruff iced.

"Yep! And you know what? This morning, I just happened to remember."

Ohhh, she wanted to punch him right in his smug little face. Ruff hoped this meant his yak-pants were ruined.

"How did you even hoard this many dishes?!" she shrieked, throwing her hands up. Honestly, if the situation was any different, she'd be impressed.

Almost half the island's dishes and pots were in this freaking crate. All of them completely disgusting. She held up a soup pot so burnt that its bottom was bulging outwards, utterly mystified. "And how did they get like this?!"

"They aren't all mine, I just took up a collection. You can thank Astrid for that particular masterpiece - I think it's one of her failed cooking experiments. Saw her trying to bury it behind her hut."

"And so you unburied it?!" Ruff screeched in outrage.

"Pretty much. Enjoy! Whoooo! SNOTLOUT!" He hopped into Hookfang's saddle and they flew off, just barely dodging the furiously hurled cook pot.

Ruff let loose a long stream of decidedly unladylike invective.

She fumed at the box, wondering if she could just push it off the deck. Those dishes had been missing for a month - and maybe nobody would notice all the broken crockery on the rocky shore below?

That's how Dagur found her, trying to drag the entire thing toward the railing.

"Huh. Wow, those are some nasty dishes."

"Ack!" Caught in the act, Ruff straightened up to face him. "You saw nothing!"

"Hmmm, nope, pretty sure I saw something almost happen," he teased lightly. Seeing Ruff's crestfallen look, Dagur hastened to reassure her. "It's okay, I actually came to help you do dishes. I figured it isn't fair - you having to do them all alone, just because of me."

Ruff's eyes widened at that, then softened. "Awww, really? You came to help me?" Her smile faltered a bit when she looked back at the crate. "Ugh . . . even if we get the water hot again, it's gonna take all day to do those. And by then it'll be dinner time, which means even more dishes. You sure you don't wanna just look the other way while I chuck them all into the ocean?"

Dagur looked thoughtful, and then suddenly grinned. "Funny you should mention the ocean . . . I think I have an idea."

---------

If there was anyone on Berk who Tuff knew not to push his luck with, Gothi was near the top of the list. The tribe's Völva had a gentle healing touch, but a mouthy patient usually wasn't above receiving a sturdy whack with her staff or even one of her dreaded ear-pinches.

Tuff kept his complaints to a minimum as Gothi's bony fingers pressed and prodded his bruised ribcage, though he couldn't help but squirm. She looked surprised when she found no breaks or dislocated ribs. Tuffnut almost blurted out that he'd already had the latter, but explaining how they been fixed and by whom might cause some problems.

Once her examination was complete, Gothi motioned for him to put his vest and tunic back on and scribbled a message into the dirt. She then hooked one of Gobber's helmet horns with her staff and dragged him over to read it.

"Hey, now! You're awful bossy. Right, I know, you've got things to get on to, well so have I! Grump's going to eat everything in the forge if I don't hurry back."

Gothi looked up at him half-lidded, unimpressed.

"Alright, let's see - she says you'll need a hook - OWW! Sorry, off the hook, doing any heavy chores. And that it's a miracle you don't have anything broken, so try not to do anything stupid and reckless for at least three weeks. You'll have to breath very deeply several times a day to keep from getting ill. It'll hurt, but do it, because coughing when ye get sick will definitely hurt worse."

"Yeah, I hear that," Tuff winced at the very thought. Even sneezing sounded like agony.

Gothi smoothed the dirt with her foot and wrote something else.

"Aside from all that," Gobber translated, "Is there something you should be telling me?"

Tuff blinked, unable to stop the guilty look that crossed his face.

"Ahh. Thought so. Well out with it, then. What've you stolen, or broken, or --" Gobber looked down in surprise as Gothi gave him a light prod toward the door with her staff. She made a dismissive motion with her hand, as though shooing off a chicken.

With a shrug, and a glance at Tuff that suggested it had been nice knowing him, Gobber headed off to visit his hopefully still-standing forge.

Gothi looked at him sharply and drew something in the sand. All at once he realized that this had nothing to do with the fugitive Berserker they were hiding. Tuff stared at the crude arrow sketched in the dirt and swallowed hard.

"Did you dream about the arrows too?" he muttered, looking up at her. "A sky full of black glistening death?"

The Völva went a little pale at that and gripped her staff tighter, leaning against it. Okay, so maybe he'd been a little too dramatic there . . .

It was only a moment of weakness, for Gothi straightened up and nodded briskly at Tuff, patting his shoulder. She gestured for him to get up and go on his way.

"Wait, that's it? That's all you wanted? No details, theories, hypothesis - nothing? Just gracias, mi hijo, buenos dias?"

Gothi gave him a remarkably patient look and then nodded again, gesturing for him to leave. Tuff frowned, but obeyed. He knew he should be honored she even believed him, but being simply dismissed afterwards was upsetting.

Maybe if he and Ruff had been trained officially in spae-craft under a Völva, it might have been different; his input would actually be valued. Either way, he didn't regret learning what he knew from his mother, even if it wasn't considered 'good' magic.

"Hey," Heather greeted him, on the landing with Windshear. "Gobber just told me you're excused from hard labor, which I thought would be good news. So what's with that expression?"

"Eh. It's nothing," Tuff shrugged. "Guess I better go see Mom. Wonder what the Chief meant by her having her hands full?"

"It's nearing harvest season. Are any other members of your family helping out with that?"

He thought about it, and shook his head. "No, Uncle Sven and Cousin Lars have their own fields. Other than the kitchen garden, we have more chickens than crops, so mostly we sell eggs."

Tuff brightened a little. "I'll get to see how Mom's little chickens are doing. Maybe there was a hatching recently. Oh, Heather, I hope it's so - you haven't lived until you've held a soft fluffy little peeper in your hands."

Heather smiled as they walked together toward the Thorston home. "That sounds nice. My village used to have chickens and every morning I'd collect the eggs from my family's coop. I learned to leave the brooding ones alone pretty quickly."

"Too true, Heather. Those proud little mothers certainly know how to bite." Tuff smiled at her until he noticed the melancholy look that passed over his friend's face. She'd been doing better until he'd found Dagur, with the whole missing her family thing. Tuff sighed softly; she and her brother needed to talk.

Both siblings seemed to be holding back information that could help them understand what had happened - with Oswald, with her village. Until Heather felt ready to relive that pain again, she wasn't going to be able to listen, and Dagur wasn't going to make her.

"Have you ever had a rune-reading?" Tuff blurted, startling Heather out of her thoughts. "Just sat yourself down with a nice aromatic cup of tea, while letting someone sing to the Norns and spirits to find all the hidden answers? It can be very motivating. Maybe even soothing, for a lost troubled soul such as yourself."

"Tuffnut, I'm not a 'lost troubled soul'."

"Aren't you?" he asked dramatically, raising one eyebrow. As Heather stared at him flatly, he waggled them ridiculously until she started laughing. He joined in, slinging an arm around her shoulders as they walked.

"Seriously though, you should let my Mom do a reading for you. She's pretty good, and it won't even cost you money. I'll work something out with her." Heather looked a little unsure but Tuff just grinned. "It'll be okay. You could even ask about future loooove. You and Fishy, sittin' in a creek . . . Wait, no, that's not how that goes."

She blushed, but looked a bit more relaxed at that. "You know what, sure. Maybe it could be fun."

"There we go! That way you won't be bored while I help Mom with whatever she needs help with."

Heather nodded and leaned into his one armed embrace. "You and your family seem pretty close," she noted.

Tuffnut shrugged, thinking of who else was waiting at home. "Eh. Most of us. A little more than half at least." His father would be asleep at midday, drunk asleep by the fire in his chair. There shouldn't be any trouble with him while Heather was over.

One could always, always hope.

---------------

“You ready?” Dagur asked, balancing carefully on Belch’s neck. The Zippleback had agreed to let him ride, though it had taken several mackerel (Belch’s favorite) to warm him to the idea. To be fair, the Berserker and the two-headed dragon did have a rather unpleasant history and Zipplebacks never forgot.

Ruff beamed at him, and eagerly twined the rope around her arm to make sure their load was even. “I was born ready for this!” she crowed.

Dagur grinned back at her and the two of them urged their dragon to swoop down over the ocean, hovering purposefully too close to a breaching Scauldron. It ignored them for a while, but as they persisted to trail it, the Scauldron lifted its head above the water and glowered at them balefully, she needscheeks puffing out.

Ruff and Dagur dropped their cargo directly in the path of boiling spray, letting the rope go slack as they flew up out of the way. The blast hit the net full of soiled crockery full on. Ruffnut whooped as she saw the dirt, sludge and grease run off the dishes and pots, splattering into the ocean.

“Oh, that is nasty!” laughed Dagur. “I can’t believe they were going to make you clean all that by yourself!”

“Hey, if I get to do it this way?! I want to do dishes all the time! Sign me up!” Ruffnut blew a fond kiss at the Scauldron, which grumbled at them now that they were out of range. She reached back to the saddlebag behind her and pulled out a salmon, tossing it down to the Scauldron. The water-dragon caught it, and swallowed the fish whole. It looked up at them expectantly, waiting for more.

“Hey there, pretty boy! Can you do me one more solid and fire some hot water again?” Ruff asked sweetly. “There’s more salmon in it for you!” The Scauldron made a curious sound but didn’t seem averse to getting more fish, lazily treading its tail through the water as it waited.

Ruffnut shook something over the net – a powder made from dried soap flakes and soda ash. “My mom uses this stuff when she needs to get something really clean. It’s been passed down through the Nut family,” she explained to Dagur.

“Neat! I’d like to meet your family someday.”

“You’d want to meet roughly half my family,” Ruffnut smirked. “The half that isn’t all jerks.”

She again blew kisses at the Scauldron, thinking of the one she’d met and helped so long ago. It obligingly sucked up some more water and blasted the boiling liquid directly at the net, causing even more sludge and slime to dribble out.

“Alright! Here you go, scale-baby!” Ruff called lovingly, and tossed another couple salmon down.

The Scauldron snapped them up and turned to swim off with its prize. She made sure to save some for Barf and Belch, who were obviously getting jealous of the strange dragon.

On the way back to the island they dipped the net into the ocean and dragged it through the currents to fully rinse everything. “If all that doesn’t get these clean, nothing will,” Dagur shrugged.

Sure enough, the dishes were all but sparkling in the sun as they flew high enough to pull them out of the water. Ruff let out another whoop of victory. “Best. Chore. Ever!”

Dagur smiled at her, impressed. “You’re really good at training Scauldrons.”

“Thanks, but I didn’t train him. We just did each other a favor. One time Tuff befriended a Typhoomerang just by yakking at it. It ended up saving our butts from a forest fire, but didn’t stick around. I don’t know how he does it – he just talks and talks and somehow dragons like him enough not to eat him. I just make sure to always have lots of fish on hand.”

“True. Never met a dragon who doesn’t love fish.”

“Well, we have! It's called the Whispering Death. Those things don’t like anything. Tuff’s impossibly in love with them – I can’t even tell you the number of times I’ve had to drag him away from trying to hug one.” Ruffnut gave an exaggerated sigh. “Thank Loki he’s moved on to chickens. I can handle chickens.”

Dagur smiled, shaking his head fondly. “I’m glad you two get along so well.”

“We don’t all the time, but I get what you mean. After we put the dishes away, there’s a few hours before dinner. Wanna check out our boar pit?”

The Berserker perked up. “You guys have a boar pit!? Uh, yeah I want to check it out!”

Ruff cackled in delight as they flew back to the Clubhouse. “This is gonna be awesome!”

-----------

Tuff must have missed her more than he realized, for the moment he saw that familiar shape clad in vivid colors, he quickened his step.

His mother was a broad-shouldered woman who seemed to like wearing the brightest of colors - if only to flaunt that she could easily make her own dyes and dress like the noble woman she wasn't. Her rainbow rags cheapened the otherwise expensive indigos, reds, and purples that upper class families preferred, especially when worn for doing laundry in the front yard.

The outrage seemed to amuse Madge Thorston greatly; anytime Tuff had seen villagers openly scorn her clothing in the market square, she had stood up straight and laughed for an uncomfortable length of time in their faces.

His mother was proud, brave, and strong. Nothing could bring her down, make her submit, or stop her from doing exactly as she pleased.

Well, maybe except for her husband.

That explained why she was out in the yard even past noon, face and hands reddened from the cold and scrubbing linens across a board. Tuff grinned at her as she looked up, expression changing from annoyance to surprise as she recognized her son.

"Oh!" Madge dropped the sheet back into the pail and scooped Tuff up in a bear hug as though he weighed no more than a straw. "Ha! My scrawny son has come home! I'd half-thought you were Mrs. Nygenskar, back to pester me about her damned missing chickens."

She promptly pinched Tuff's ear between finger and thumb, causing him to yowl. "A good thing you weren't, because then I really would have popped you one. Why'd you have to be so terrible at stealing, getting caught all the time? Now everyone thinks we're thieves. Thieves!"

Heather glanced over at a full milk pail that had the Hofferson crest carved on its side and bit her lip.

"Well, Mom, we sort of - I mean, that's our thing. 'The family that nicks together, sticks together.' It's our motto," Tuff answered.

His mother let him go. "Stick out your tongue," Madge said sharply. Tuff groaned but obeyed, and she flicked it hard enough to make him cringe. "That's for having loose lips in front of a new face."

"Oh, uh, my name's Heather," the 'new face' ventured. Madge turned to look at her appraisingly. "Your son was telling me you did rune-readings?" Heather glanced at Tuff for help. He rather unhelpfully gave her a thumbs up.

"Hmm. You came for a reading, did you? Having some trouble with a certain family member?"

"Um, yes- how did you know?" Heather stammered, shocked.

"The Nut knows, my dear. Also, I've seen the same look on my daughter's face since the pair of them were born. Your brother has you at wits end just by being near, and on top of all that there's a whole different mess to sort out. Very well, there's time for tea and a reading. How much coin can you bear to part with?"

Yep. Blunt and to the point. That was Mom at her finest.

"Actually, since Heather's technically adopted family, I was thinking I could pay for her first time," Tuff interjected, coming to his friend's rescue.

Madge raised an eyebrow, thinking for a long moment. "Fine. You've done well enough making effective staves(1), so I'll have three more. One for the chicken coop against predators and thieves. Then I want two new ones for the house, one to ward against financial ruin. Another against violence.

"Carve the two into beams upstairs, but don't wake your father. I'll not have him running his mouth off at anyone else today."

Her words were sharp, but Tuff could easily hear the affection in them. "Okay, I can do that, Mom." He darted forward to hug her, and was pleased when she rested her hand on his head.

"Good, now get to it." Madge swatted the small of his back as he ran toward the house. Tuff heard her turn to Heather, who was waiting nervously. "Now my dear, do you like your tea sweet or spicy?"

Yeah, she was in good hands. Tuff knew he'd have at least an hour to carve the staves and sneak some stored bedding and clothing out the window. Hardsell would sleep through everything and he probably wouldn't even have to talk to him.

He carefully pushed open the door, only halfway before the hinges would squeak, and slipped inside, just as carefully easing it closed.

A thick hand palmed the door, just over Tuff's head, shoving it closed with a solid thunk.

Tuffnut froze as breath touched the back of his neck and he failed to register the usual snores by the fireplace.

"Welcome home," Hardsell said flatly, looking anything but pleased.

Tuff turned his back to the door and grinned as brightly as he could manage. "Hey, Pop. How've you been? I see you got your beard trimmed a few months ago. Looks good. Real good." Tuffnut's grin was strained but genuine, and his clasped hands were the only sign he was inwardly screaming.

Hardsell gave a snort and gripped the back of Tuff's neck, steering the boy toward the fireplace and the chairs that sat next to it. "Sit."

It wasn't a request.

Tuff stifled his dread and obeyed, heart pounding a little fast. Only two things could ever get Hardsell to stand up of his own volition: Needing to refill his mead mug and 'putting people in their place.' Usually with a fist or well-aimed kick. Cutting words were also a given.

Gods, no wonder his mother was outside. Probably spending her nights in the warm family bath-house too.

"For whatever reason, you're loose in Berk. Without your sister. I take it she isn't involved in whatever disaster you plan to cause. Definitely the smarter twin."

"Oh, definitely - most definitely -" Tuff agreed, and because his anger was faster than his logic, he eased right into sass mode. "By the way, excellent job coherently stringing together more than three words - you must have switched to the alcohol-free mead."

Hardsell chuckled at him, humorlessly. Then he flung the contents of his mug into Tuffnut's face.

Tuff yelped in pain and wiped at his smarting eyes. The liquid stung terribly, but not like mead . . .

"That's vinegar, boy. Gothi's prescription for a failing liver is apparently to drink vinegar. One mug of tea in the morning, then the rest of the day and night -"

Hardsell looked at his mug and paused for too long. Tuffnut considered getting out of his chair and hiding beneath it, but of course he moved far too late.

The heavy mug hit him as he flinched down, shattering against the back of his chair. Tuff yelped as the ceramic shards flew everywhere, piercing skin and scattering unpleasantly across the wooden floor. He remained seated, trembling as his father loomed over him.

"As I said. Vinegar. Made from last year's apple harvest, I believe. It doesn't taste very good, but my mind has never been clearer. Your old man is going to be changing this family's fortune, boyo. Starting with you."

"Me?" Tuffnut asked, raising an eyebrow. He was terrified already, but he refused to give his father the satisfaction of admitting that. "Ah, I get it! This is another one of your inspiring 'get a job' lectures. That's okay, because I'm actually already employed as a Dragon-Rider of Berk. I personally don't think I can do any better, but I'm so flattered you do. I'll keep that forever in my heart. Now if you'll excuse me -"

Tuff's attempt to leave was met with a cuff to the head and he was all but thrown back into the chair. "Stay seated, I'm not done."

Well, this was just fantastic. The youth obeyed and remained quiet as Hardsell continued. Nervous fingers tapped against the frame of the seat and he hoped the man couldn't hear them.

"Your sister will bring the family money in her own way - by means of her marriage. Though she's proven too ugly to capture the attention of Chief Stoick's son, there are plenty of rich men looking for a younger bride to keep them warm this coming winter."

Tuffnut's fingers curled into fists. He hated when Hardsell insulted Ruff - especially because he only did it when she wasn't here. Cowardly didn't describe half of it.

As for forcibly marrying her off? Yeah, sure, good luck to the poor idiot that agreed to be her groom. Had Hardsell forgotten they had dragons? They could fly away from anything he threatened. Still though, incredibly uncool. Tuff held his tongue, aware he was being provoked. Hardsell took another drink and once more focused on Tuffnut.

"But you . . . you'll never amount to anything. You've no future. Why waste money on a bride for you? Would you even know what to do with one?"

Ah, the classic narrow-minded insults about his manliness he'd come to expect.

Tuff snorted, almost amused at the predictability. He didn't take the bait, putting on an air of boredom. Small beads of blood were still sliding down his face, turning gradually into streaks and stains. He focused on the little cuts on his face, absently picking out bits of debris from the shattered mug.

"Your cousin Lars - now there's a boy deserving of a girl. So we'll trade you for one. There was a visitor from afar who visited one of our family elders. Seems he's in search for a boy, about your size and build, with long blond hair and a Berkian accent. Seems this 'boy' owes some of his men quite a bit of gambling money."

Hardsell glowered at Tuff, who just shrugged. "I don't owe money to anyone. And I'd never gamble anything if there was a chance of losing. I'm not that stupid. If I was, Ruffnut wouldn't let me be."

"Hmm. Well, he's willing to do a trade anyhow. The boy in question's whereabouts, for one of his men's eligible daughters to marry your cousin."

Uneasily, Tuffnut looked up. "Why exactly would he want this 'boy'? I mean, if he's owed money, wouldn't it make more sense to just ask for a dowry?"

"Oh, we didn't pry. It's a good enough trade for me. He can decide how useful you'd be when you're his. You know what they say, boy; one man's garbage is another man's gold."

Okay, that had hurt. Tuff glowered. "That's it, I'm not buying it anymore. There's no possible way the family can sell me or trade me - to anybody - if I don't want to go. I'm a Dragon-Rider; I help defend Berk - you can't just send me away like I'm worth nothing!"

"You're only worth nothing to me, boyo. But you must be worth quite a bit to the men you owe all that gold to."

"I told you I haven't been gambling! They aren't after me!"

"Who else would make such trouble? Was it your sister, then? Perhaps you'd prefer to blame that older, more successful cousin of yours -"

Tuff scowled, growing angrier. "Don't you even try to bring Ruff or any of my totally awesome cousins into this - they're completely innocent! Lars, on the other hand . . ."

Hardsell cuffed him again, making Tuff flinch down and cover his head. "You bite your lying tongue - Lars is the son I wish I'd had."

Tuffnut growled in frustrated anger, his emotions finally getting the better of him.

"Oh, poor you, you got me and Ruff! So sad! Not like you did any work to raise us anyway - you just sat there and drank for twenty years! And now - all because someone cared enough to finally force you to quit - you're in a bad mood and you're taking it out on me and Ruff, and even Mom! Your crappy liver is not my fault!"

"Really? Isn't it?" Hardsell snarled. He gripped Tuff's bleeding face harshly, thumb smearing across a cut. "Maybe letting such a disappointment live after it was born and not exposing it to the bitter cold is the reason I started drinking in the first place!"

Tuff lost his defiant sneer and simply crumbled, devastated. He glared through it, trying to will away the hot tears filling his eyes.

His father was full of shit; there was no way he'd actually go through with this or that the family was planning to. Hardsell was simply trying to hurt him, as usual.

Well, he'd fucking succeeded.

Even now, the man was watching him carefully for a reaction, so obviously itching for a reason - any reason - to hurt Tuff even further. The youth decided not to give him one and simply got up, pushing past the bigger man to go upstairs, to the loft where he and his sister used to sleep.

Hardsell said nothing, save for chuckling and sitting back down.

Somehow that hurt even worse.

Tuffnut took a few moments to get his head together, and gripped the dragon-toothed necklace around his throat. It was times like these he really missed having his sister with him. She would have known the exact thing to say to make that jerk pucker his lips shut.

After a few deep breaths, he took a knife out of his pocket and began to carve a stave into the beam above the stairs. His hands were shaking badly; he nearly cut himself twice and once almost dropped the knife entirely.

Still, he managed to carve the first - a protection circle with symbols warding off ruin. He began to make four marks within the circle - one for every member of their family. Mom, Ruffnut, himself, and . . .

The tip of the blade was digging into the wood, ready to make the mark for his father, but Tuffnut was unwilling to commit to it. A bead of red blood dripped into his eye and he wiped it away, staring at the smear of red on his fingers.

Bright red, just like . . .

There was the memory of warm arms around him, of kind words and a sincere smile.

Tuff's eyes spill over suddenly and with no warning. He refused to make one sound of misery, instead carving the fourth mark.

Not for Hardsell, but for Dagur.

Let the house and land wights and all the Gods protect Dagur from evil; his father could be ripped to pieces by a draugr for all he cared. Or better yet, a hill-lurking troll. Ooh, or drowned by a nokken under the ice floes - yeah, that would be fine by him. He couldn't imagine his twin being all that upset either.

Tuffnut carved the second stave his mother had asked for, against violence. It was exactly the same - he made the fourth mark on Dagur's behalf and left Hardsell unprotected.

Though Odin Allfather may frown on him for his lack of duty toward his father, Tuff knew in his heart that Loki was standing just behind Odin's throne, giving him a sly grin and a thumbs up.

He put the knife away and wiped furiously across his eyes, hitching quietly as he entered the empty bedroom. Tuffnut would need bedding and a pillow and shirts. He went to the far end of the room and opened a cedar chest.

The nicest shirt he found that would fit Dagur's frame - dark blue linen and seldom worn - was rolled up and hidden in a goose-down quilt his grandmother had sewn.

It didn't matter who it used to belong to. As far as Tuff was concerned, it was Dagur's now.

Tuff also stuffed a pillow and a fur-lined brown vest into the roll; surely his erstwhile roommate would appreciate the additional warmth. He found a set of his grandfather's throwing knives as well, and stuffed the leather-wrapped bundle into his belt. Hardsell would eventually know they were missing, but Tuffnut refused to give him the chance to sell them.

He climbed out the window and onto the roof, letting the rolled goods gently tumble down to rest over the frame of the chicken hut below. Tuffnut eased himself down as quietly as he could, knowing Hardsell might see him out the kitchen window.

He couldn't risk it. With the sour mood his father was in, he wanted no further encounters - not today, at least. Tuffnut watched the window warily for signs of movement within, and relaxed when nothing in darkness stirred. Probably sucking down another mug of vinegar by the fire.

Might as well do the last stave then; it'd be quicker than the others. Tuffnut pulled out his knife and made short work of it, scratching a mark for everyone of his mother's six (no, wait, nine?) chickens.

One of the hens burbled at him while he worked and Tuff smiled at her. He clucked back and was reaching in to stroke her white feathers when she flapped her wings in sudden alarm. Tuffnut had no time to react as a hand seized the back of his neck and pulled him away from the coop.

For a moment he strangled on the leather cord of his necklace, oddly afraid it would snap, then gasped as he was shoved down to hit the hard packed earth. Tuffnut's ribs started screaming and he gave an abortive moan, curling around them.

He didn't bother looking up at his attacker. He didn't need to.

The bed roll was dropped in the dirt beside him and shaken open, all the goods falling out. Hardsell, pulled out the blue shirt. "Hmm. A gift from your mother to me, when we first met. She dyed it herself."

He tossed it back on the pile as though it meant little; no, the reason he cared at all was because it was his and Tuffnut had attempted to steal it. That was reason enough for Hardsell to continue, but he also went for Tuff's belt, pulling away the throwing knives. "And these were my father-in-law's. I'd wondered where they'd gotten to."

If Hardsell was trying to make Tuff ashamed and submissive, he was barking up the wrong tree. That ship had already sailed.

"Oh, I can tell you that. It got thrown carelessly in a trunk upstairs, during all those years you held down a chair in front of the fire, drunk out of your mind," Tuffnut sneered.

A pair of hands gripped Tuff's upper arms, hauling him to his feet, and giving him a rough shake. "This isn't something you'd steal for yourself. That shirt wouldn't fit you, or even the Ingerman boy. You're hiding something."

Tuff winced but remained defiant. "Nope, I was just going to cut it up into rags. The outhouse on the Edge is all out of good paper."

"Lying spawn of Loki." One of those hands began to twist Tuff's arm, putting strain on his shoulder. "The vest, the shirt, the knives . . . even the extra bedding. They're for someone. Who?"

Tuffnut whined as his shoulder started to genuinely hurt.

"Let go-" he gritted out, taking back every wish he'd ever made that his father would stop being a drunken unmoving lump and do something. In retrospect, being a drunken lump was preferable to this.

Hardsell only continued, with calm purpose. Was it the mead that had kept him calm for so long? All this time, had it been merely dulling the man's hatred of him?

Tuff's shoulder burned with pain and he couldn't help the sobbing plea that tore past his lips.

-------

Madge had helped. She really had.

Not so much with casting the runes and telling her the secrets of the Norns - though that was helpful too if you really believed in that sort of thing. Rather, the Thorston matriarch had a level head, a wise outlook on life . . . and lots and lots of experience when it came to talking to estranged family members.

If Heather could boil down the whole experience to one phrase, it would be that seeking out the truth is far more cathartic than blind forgiveness could ever hope to be.

"Usually," Madge had said, blowing across her teacup, "You'll end up mad at yourself for not asking the truth sooner. You deserve to know it, certainly. Your brother deserves to be given the chance to tell you. There are reasons he did what he did, not excuses - but reasons.

"I think it's worth noticing that he's never once begged to explain away his actions. He knows what he ended up doing was wrong, no matter what information he was or wasn't told."

A strange statement, but Heather hadn't had time to ask anything further; a neighbor had showed up unannounced to argue over something missing. From the sound of the raised voices, it was going to take a while. After twenty minutes of waiting, she'd set down her tea and walked politely away, heading toward the house to see if Tuff was finished yet.

When the front door did not open she, walked around to the chicken yard.

For half a moment, Heather stood there utterly frozen in shock.

Seconds later, she was bending back two of the man's fingers - forcing him to let go of Tuffnut. She used the grip on Hardsell to spin him and twist the man's arm against his back, slamming him into the wall of the coop.

"Don't. Move," Heather hissed, beyond incensed. Her axe's edge pressed against his jugular. She didn't know or really care who this stranger was, but he was no doubt responsible for the blood and marks she saw on her friend's body.

"Tuff, grab your things, okay?"

"Yeah," came the ragged answer. "H-Hold on." Tuffnut managed to kneel, gathering up the scattered items and re-rolling them. He stood with difficulty, and bundled it under his arm. She saw him looking helplessly at a smaller wrapped parcel of leather further away on the ground.

"I got it." Heather let go of Hardsell to snatch it up, never looking away from the dark-haired man, who glowered right back. He didn't keep it up, eventually lowering his eyes from her piercing glare. "Keep walking, Tuffnut."

Heather didn't sheathe her axe and kept looking over her shoulder until they came around to where she'd last seen Madge. After one look at them, the woman turned from her argumentative neighbor mid-sentence and moved swiftly toward her son.

Mrs. Nygenskar took a long gander over the apparent situation and walked away, obviously finding gossip more valuable than her chickens.

"I may actually kill him this time," Madge murmured, looking him over. Tuff swallowed hard and fell into the woman's arms, dropping the roll to hug her tightly.

"Stay somewhere else for a while?" he begged. "I think Pop's gone insane."

Heather felt her stomach twist. Part of her had suspected, but hearing it confirmed was still awful.

"Tch. Why would I leave my house? I can handle him. Hardsell doesn't raise a hand to me, and . . . Gods, I'm sorry, boyo. I thought he'd be hard asleep." Madge sighed and dipped a rag into the bucket of clean rinse water, gently dabbing at the cuts on Tuff's face. "You don't worry for another second on me; get back to that base of yours before dark. Let the grown-ups handle all of this."

Tuffnut hitched and looked up at his mother imploringly. The desperate worry on his face made Heather's chest hurt.

"Neither of us want to leave you in any danger," Heather supplied for him. She still had yet to sheathe her axe. That was how much Hardsell had alarmed her.

"Oh, I won't be. I'm fixing to kick him out for a couple nights. Let him miss the fire's warmth and sleep on the benches in the Great Hall. I'm sorry he laid hands on you. I promise it won't happen again - he'll be on good behavior by the time you both visit for Snoggletogg."

Tuff nodded, smiling ruefully. Heather wondered how many times he'd heard that same promise and her heart ached for her friend. She put an arm around Tuff's shoulders and finally put away her axe.

"You two have a safe journey back. Don't cause more trouble than you can handle, and tell your sister the same. Give her a hug from me, whether she wants it or not. Heather, I hope our short time together was helpful."

"It was . . . thank you." And please be safe. Heather returned Madge's smile and turned, wordlessly coaxing Tuffnut to walk beside her. They would go to Gobber's forge and see if Hiccup was anywhere near done with the wing prosthetic.

Tuffnut was quiet for a moment as they walked, occasionally shivering. Heather was inwardly distressed, not having any idea what to say, but her friend solved that for her.

"You, uh . . . you remember that time we blew up that ship together?" he asked, lightly jostling her shoulder. "That was fun, huh?"

She looked confused, then realized he was changing the subject. "Yeah, it was - Tuff, should we take you to see Gothi? Is your shoulder -"

Tuffnut pulled away from her questing hands and rolled his shoulder, forcing it back in with a small crunch. The resigned pain on his face showed Heather he was far too used to this. "It hurts more when other people put it back in," he explained, not meeting her eyes.

Heather gazed at him, understanding, and drew him into a hug. "If you don't want to talk about it, it's fine. Just know that I'm always here if you do."

Tuff made a small weak noise, face muffled in her hair, but he didn't push her away. "Okay," he whispered shakily. She let him go and he raised his face, expression worryingly blank as he fought back tears. "We should find Hiccup. I think I've had enough of Berk for one day." Tuff tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a dry sob.

Heather linked her arm with his, and walked with him in silence to Gobber's forge.

- Tbc

Notes:

1.) Staves are sigils - in Norse magic, a passed-down or self-designed symbol that is made for a purpose. There are staves for binding prisoners, staves against getting lost, or drowning - even staves for picking locks! Madge has taught the Twins all her own staves, passed down through the Nutt family, and how to make their own.

Here is a link for further examples and information: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Icelandic_magical_staves

#tuffgur #dagur the deranged #tuffnut #rtte

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mrmichaelchadler · 6 years ago

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Fade to White: "Thelma and Louise" Turns 25

This review was originally published on March 30, 2016 and is being republished for Women Writers Week.

“You be sweet to your wife. My husband wasn’t sweet to me, and look how I turned out.” —Thelma Dickerson (Geena Davis) to the cop she just locked inside the trunk of his patrol car at gun point

In 1991, a frazzled homemaker and a put-upon waitress took a road trip in a 1966 Thunderbird convertible that would transform them into a pair of gun-toting, booze-belting, convenience-store-robbing and men-terrorizing outlaws. Yes, “Thelma and Louise” was one wild ride as it boldly gave a genre dominated by male stars—the buddy film—a welcome sex change while making a statement about female fortitude and friendship.

Director Ridley Scott, who previously proved his prowess with a strong female hero in the form of Sigourney Weaver’s Ripley in 1979’s “Alien," might have been behind the wheel, but it was Callie Khouri’s smartly provocative script and the savvy performances by Geena Davis and Susan Sarandon in the title roles that put a tiger in the tank of this action vehicle.

During its initial run, “Thelma and Louise” did fairly well at the box office, grossing a little more than $45 million domestically. It was nominated for six Oscars—Davis and Sarandon both competed in the lead actress category—with Khouri winning for Best Original Screenplay. And it stirred up controversy over whether the film was anti-male, as it encouraged audiences to root for these lady lawbreakers after Sarandon’s Louise shoots Thelma’s would-be rapist, and they jointly give a lascivious trucker an explosive lesson in good manners.

The film still holds up and is as relevant as ever, given that the country might be on the verge of electing our first female president at the same time that other politicians are bent on closing Planned Parenthood centers and denying women access to legal and safe abortions.

But as a cinematic event, it feels more like an anomaly than a ground-breaker with lasting impact in Hollywood. While male-driven buddy pics are still as plentiful as ever, there have only been a handful of comparable female efforts. RogerEbert.com critics Christy Lemire, Sheila O’Malley and Susan Wloszczyna take a look at “Thelma & Louise”—25 years later.

Christy Lemire: OK, so how long had it been since you'd seen “Thelma and Louise”?

Sheila O’Malley: For me, about 10 years.

Susan Wloszczyna: I saw it about five years ago since I was doing an onstage Q&A with Geena Davis at the Sarasota Film Festival. But I noticed other things this time anyway.

Christy Lemire: I saw it several times right around when it first came out, but it may have been about 20 years for me.

Susan Wloszczyna: I've probably watched it around 10 times, though.

Christy Lemire: I noticed SO much that I didn't before. I was in college in 1991. I definitely have the perspective of being a grown woman that I didn't have back then.

Susan Wloszczyna: For some reason, I thought it was funnier when I saw it when it first came out. I took it more seriously with each time I have seen it.

Sheila O’Malley: A lot of the same things struck me as they did when I was a younger woman, mainly the transformations they both go through as they get deeper and deeper down the road. The shucking off of the jewelry. Thelma's drinking. The way both of them are liberated by crime in a way they would never have imagined. Those things are still some of my favorite "bits." The outlaw part of it.

Christy Lemire: Definitely—the stakes are so much clearer and more significant in retrospect. But the loyalty of their friendship and the sacrifice they're willing to make for each other rang more clearly to me this time. It resonated more.

Sheila O’Malley: I actually took it much more seriously as a young woman. Now I see it more as an epic crime-spree, mythic Americana-type thing, only with women. My favorite moment in the whole thing? "Good driving."

Christy Lemire: That's so funny! I felt the opposite.

Susan Wloszczyna: Geena is a hoot when she gets so wrapped up in finding her calling as an outlaw. But it changes a bit when she says, "I feel awake."

Christy Lemire: The jokes like that don't seem forced in a moment of tension as they so often do in action movies.

Sheila O’Malley: To take that moment to compliment your friend on her stunt-driving ... it's such a great detail.

Susan Wloszczyna: They both get something from men that they needed, though. For Thelma, sexual liberation. For Louise, knowing her boyfriend would go out of his way for her.

Christy Lemire: We don't really think of Ridley Scott as a director who does lightness well. But he finds a great balance of tones here.

Susan Wloszczyna: “Matchstick Men” sort of had some of that.

Sheila O’Malley: I so appreciated that having her first orgasm was what really made Thelma turn the corner. In the next scene, when Louise falls apart (discovering the money was gone), Thelma totally takes over. She's claimed that part of herself. I got that as a young woman and I love it even more now. Suddenly, Thelma gets all butch. It's so great.

Christy Lemire: I noticed more about the men this time—both how they're portrayed as cartoonish monsters (Darryl, Harlan, the trucker) and how they're fully-drawn, complicated characters (Madsen, Keitel). And yes! Thelma's sexual awakening. It's a joyous thing, even in the midst of such turmoil.

Sheila O’Malley: I so agree. The complaint that all the men are cartoons is silly. 1.) Because how often are women "cartoons" in movies like this? All the time. And 2.) It's just not true. There's a lot of nuance there. Christy—I totally agree. It's an important part of life and she's been denied that. It really transforms her.

Susan Wloszczyna: I love that Madsen and Keitel were so playing against type. And what to say about Brad Pitt? He wasn’t this good again for a long, long while, until about “12 Monkeys.” I love when he taunts Darryl.

Christy Lemire: Such an exciting discovery. His voice sounded higher back then—he was reedier. But so playful and sexy.

Sheila O’Malley: Brad Pitt rules. I love it when they see him again, and he's perched on that thing by the side of the road, looking like James Dean in “Giant.” Smart actor. He knew exactly what that role demanded and didn't complicate it too much.

Christy Lemire: I recall seeing “Thelma & Louise” with my mom and she was like: "Who is THAT???"

Sheila O’Malley: I felt the same way when I saw it!

Christy Lemire: Right—he's complicated, too. A con artist, but he seems to truly care about satisfying Thelma when she needs it.

Sheila O’Malley: It's an important role, considering he's not just a one-night stand. He ushers Thelma into the world of being alive ... and then of course he has to steal her money because that's who he is ... but he grooved on her and had a blast with her. You need to really get that.

Susan Wloszczyna: So what happened? This movie was so good. There are such classic lines. Like, "I know it's crazy, but I just feel like I got a knack for this shit." You would have thought it would have opened the floodgates for more you-go-girl movies. And it really didn't.

Christy Lemire: And clearly there must have been other smart, insightful scripts by women, about women.

Sheila O’Malley: One of the things I liked about it (and even more in this last viewing) was its ambiguity, something I felt was a little bit lost in the think-pieces—"Oh noes, are we condoning violence?"—at the time. Because Louise shoots the man in cold blood because he says that dirty thing to her. The event is over. I like that. That Callie Khouri put the character out on a limb like that. Men get to be ambiguous. Why not women?

Christy Lemire: I wonder if this would have to be a little indie to get made today.

Susan Wloszczyna: Callie Khouri won an Oscar for this, the first woman I believe to win solo. And then she did “Something to Talk About” and “Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood,” and they were OK but not like “Thelma & Louise.”

Sheila O’Malley: If every crime had been "justified,” then we'd have just another moralistic tale about poor, victimized women. This one ... these ladies get OFF on wreaking hell, eventually. No turning back.

Christy Lemire: The movie doesn't judge these women for their actions, which is great. And while they're sexual beings, the film doesn't sexualize them in a way that's gratuitous to please men.

Sheila O’Malley: No, it was very grown-up about sex, actually.

Susan Wloszczyna: Actually it wasn't just adult sex. It was fun sex. For the WOMAN, for once.

Sheila O’Malley: And the undercurrent of lingering PTSD that Louise clearly feels from whatever happened in Texas ... it's all over her face. We never hear the story. We don't need to. It reminded me a bit of Ida Lupino's great rape-culture movie, “Outrage.” How an event like that lingers. I mean, the event was over. They were walking away. He calls her a bitch, and BOOM, she shoots him. In a way, it's indefensible. That's not a criticism. I don't need my Movie Ladies to be role models. I want them to be interesting and complex.

Susan Wloszczyna: Yes. She might not have killed the guy without that haunting her.

Christy Lemire: Before they even leave town, it reveals itself in every part of her life—the perfect tidiness of her hair, her house. She has to have control to feel safe.

Susan Wloszczyna: The way she puts her shoes in plastic bags for their trip.

Christy Lemire: And eventually she learns to let her hair down, literally.

Sheila O’Malley: Christy, Susan: great observations about the neatness of her house and her packing. That was a detail I missed in my early viewings, but it rang loud and clear this last time.

Christy Lemire: In contrast, the production design of Louise's house reflects the chaos she feels to keep up with this demanding, controlling husband.

Sheila O’Malley: Oh yes, that house was a nightmare. I loved how dark it was.

Susan Wloszczyna: I was looking at the article I wrote back in 1991 and how many men and even women felt the need to stand up for the jerk guys in the film. “Anti-male,” it was called. Why wasn't it called pro-women?

Christy Lemire: I had forgotten that Stephen Tobolowsky was in this, speaking of the jerk men.

Sheila O’Malley: And Jason Beghe as the poor weeping cop in the trunk.

Christy Lemire: And it's not anti-male. It shows all different kinds of men. But ultimately it's about women finding a way to define themselves in the midst of them. Also, I realized this time how beautifully the film is paced.

Susan Wloszczyna: By the way, what is with that Rasta guy who blows the pot smoke into the trunk? It comes out of nowhere but I kind of always dig it.

Sheila O’Malley: For me this last time: it was Louise's transformation that really struck me. "I'm going to Mexico." Hair down. It's almost as though she'd been looking for a "way out" her whole life. Like she was born to it. It's not just Thelma who’s "set free." Louise has been dying for a getaway her whole life, probably.

Christy Lemire: It's over two hours and just breezes by. It's so compelling. They're both so excellent in this, you come to care so deeply about them and their journey.

Sheila O’Malley: I agree about the pacing. Not an easy feat, switching back and forth between Thelma and Louise and the cop investigation. I thought it all worked, though. The sense of increasing isolation and desolation. The clouds of dust roaring up behind them, the only car on the road. It's epic. I want women to be in epics, too, in all their bravura and flash and tragedy.

Christy Lemire: It's epic but not overwhelming or numbing the way so many effects-laden epics tend to be today.

Sheila O’Malley: It's human-sized. It's all about these two characters.

Susan Wloszczyna: This is pretty much a perfect script. But while “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” caused a run on buddy films, as did “48 Hrs.” and countless other films, I don't think “Thelma and Louise” did the same.

Christy Lemire: And here we are 25 years later and it's still hard to find films on this scale about strong, smart, brave, funny women. They're comedies—“Bridesmaids,” “Spy,” “The Heat.” Basically anything with Melissa McCarthy.

Sheila O’Malley: It also isn't nihilistic, somehow, even though they become gun-wielding maniacs. The characters are reacting against something, that's very clear. They've had enough. I do agree with Roger Ebert's criticism that the ending— the screen going to white and then the "flashbacks" as the credits roll—was a cop-out. A betrayal.

Susan Wloszczyna: It is even harder. These YA dystopian movies are getting for the birds. Yeah, “The Hunger Games” is fine but what about more Furiosas out there, but in a real time and place?

Sheila O’Malley: It's almost like they had let something pretty powerful out of the bag and then wanted to put it back in again.

Christy Lemire: Right! “Mad Max: Fury Road” is Charlize Theron's movie. Tom Hardy is literally a passenger, even though he plays the title character.

Susan Wloszczyna: I was watching “9 to 5” and even that seems much more in tune to women and their real-life concerns than any comedy out there now.

Christy Lemire: Re: the ending, it's romantic. It's passionate. It feels earned. And the kiss on the lips seals it. Oh my god, I LOVED “9 to 5” as a girl. Saw it so many times.

Sheila O’Malley: It's heart-wrenching. And the golden light on them! “9 to 5” is amazing. Great revenge picture.

Susan Wloszczyna: Sarandon came up with that kiss and only told Davis she was going to do it.

Sheila O’Malley: Wonderful!

Christy Lemire: Such a great moment. A great, pure instinct.

Sheila O’Malley: And the whole film leads up to that moment. It's extraordinary considering how different they are by the ending from who they were at the start. And it was, what, a three-day timeline?

Susan Wloszczyna: By the way, the ending. Fade to white. I think maybe “The Sopranos” should give “Thelma & Louise” some credit. I think it is still a highly controversial conclusion.

Sheila O’Malley: Every step along the way, every role reversal, every gut-check and emotional switch-back, leads them to that moment. There's a feeling of inevitability to it. Susan—it wasn't so much the fade to white, but the happy flashbacks of them having fun as the credits rolled that I didn't care for.

Susan Wloszczyna: Yep. I don't doubt that it had to be that way. Yeah, that sort of undercuts the mystery. No one but you has ever suggested that to me, though.

Sheila O’Malley: I stole it from Roger!

Christy Lemire: I interviewed Geena Davis for this Viceland show I've been working on—“Vice Guide to Film”—for an episode about Ridley Scott. And she said when she read the script, she initially auditioned for the other role, but then they were thinking of giving it to Susan Sarandon. They both had to sign a deal saying they'd agree to be in the film, regardless of which actress got which part. Afterward, she said, she realized that they both ended up in the roles where they belonged. Susan Sarandon is the perfect Louise—she's older, she has wisdom and pain. But it's interesting to imagine them switching parts.

Sheila O’Malley: Christy, I love this casting conversation. Interesting to consider them in the opposite roles, but I agree. Susan Sarandon is seasoned, a leader, a funny and practical actress. Geena Davis is a wild card. The casting as it is works beautifully!

Christy Lemire: And then it's interesting to see Keitel and Madsen—the two good guys—a year later in “Reservoir Dogs.”

Susan Wloszczyna: I would hate for anyone to remake this but, boy, with what is being said and done by certain politicians these days, I wish a real Thelma and Louise could teach them a lesson or two. Trump told a female journalist she was "beautiful" and thought that was OK. That is his version of flicking his tongue at her like that awful trucker.

Sheila O’Malley: There's also a moment that I didn't remember at all: Thelma is robbing the gas station. Louise sits in the car, depressed. She sees two old ladies staring at her through a dusty window. The moment stretches out forever. One of the old ladies almost smiles. Louise goes to put on lipstick and then tosses it out. I am really enjoying thinking about that moment. I don't need to "pin it down" to what it means ... but I like the silent mystery in it.

Christy Lemire: That shot really adds to the mood.

Sheila O’Malley: The movie takes a breath in that moment. A pause. Ridley Scott made something gorgeous and evocative about a moment where a character is just sitting around waiting for the next scene. I loved it. Maybe Louise knows now that she won't get to be an old lady like those two in the window. Who knows?

Christy Lemire: Ah, yes! I like that interpretation.

Sheila O’Malley: That's what I saw, at least, this last time around. The woman smiles at her almost encouragingly, like: "Hello, younger woman, I've been you." And yes, Michael Madsen! Man knows how to wrinkle his forehead in a beguiling way, I can tell you that much!

Susan Wloszczyna: I also like how the waitress in the bar stands up for our heroes. Plus, something about Louise leaving her a big tip even before she takes aim outside.

Sheila O’Malley: Lucinda Jenney! She's great! Yes: Every waitress everywhere would nod knowingly at that "huge tip" line.

Susan Wloszczyna: I just about cried this time when Madsen shows up in person and calls her "Peaches."

Christy Lemire: It's so timeless, and such a great movie for women to see together and celebrate each other. When I was in college, my mom and I used to drive back and forth between school in Dallas and home in Los Angeles. We referred to these road trips as our “Thelma and Louise” adventures. The power of bonding on the road in the middle of nowhere.

Sheila O’Malley: I know, I can't tell you how many road trips I've gone on with a friend and at some point there's a “Thelma and Louise” joke.

Christy Lemire: It's got such a great sense of mood—tense, thrilling, melancholy.

Sheila O’Malley: "Good driving," says Thelma. It gets me every time.

Susan Wloszczyna: I went on a “Gilmore Girls” jag recently and they often reference “Thelma & Louise.” It is sort of like “The Godfather” for women, in a way.

Christy Lemire: It still resonates.

Susan Wloszczyna: I have to confess, my go-to car line is: "Don't drive angry." Maybe I should switch.

Christy Lemire: Well, maybe by doing this talk, we can get women to watch it or re-watch it and have it resonate with them, too.

Sheila O’Malley: It was one of THOSE movies at the time, I do remember that, the kind that get a lot of worried think-pieces, and are they "justified" in what they did, and why are the men so awful, and what's happening to wimmen these days?? It was tiresome then and it's tiresome now. I don't need women to be "strong" in the movies, but I DO need them to be complex and human and watchable. This movie is such a great example of that. I know I had a blast re-watching it. I was amazed at how much of it has "stuck," and how much of it is just part of the landscape of my brain at this point.

Christy Lemire: Anything else we didn't touch on?

Susan Wloszczyna: Guns for one. I have to say that the gun use in this is not like that in a “Dirty Harry” film. It is always justified in some sense and not gratuitous. A girl's got to do what she has to do.

Christy Lemire: And again, the film doesn't shame them for using the gun in any circumstance—the parking lot, the convenience store, blowing up the fuel truck.

Sheila O’Malley: Well, I don't know. By the time they shoot out that trucker's tires, they're pretty much beyond the pale. They just shot that truck up because it felt good. Which I like. I love the moment after they put the cop in the trunk, when they're both loading up the guns, slapping in the clips, as they drive off. It's so bad-ass and poker-faced.

Christy Lemire: But they're abidingly polite about it—toying with the idea of what it means to be "ladylike."

Sheila O’Malley: They're outlaws. And yes, schooling him on his bad manners, which was a beautiful touch. I love how when he approaches them, they perch on the edge of their Thunderbird, and their silhouettes are just like the mud-flap silhouettes.

Susan Wloszczyna: True, but they didn't know it would explode. OK, they do get off on being in charge. But they don't kill the trucker or the cop. They leave breathing holes.

Christy Lemire: Ooh, Sheila, good observation!

Susan Wloszczyna: I noticed that mud flap echo, too.

Christy Lemire: Ooh, Susan, good observation!

Susan Wloszczyna: Thanks, Mom!

Sheila O’Malley: I like them getting off on being outlaws and finding themselves through crime. But yes, they aren't “Natural Born Killers” or anything. They don't want the cop to die, and they don't kill the trucker. But one of the revelations for me was the freedom found in wreaking some hell and not caring anymore. This has been a Male Tradition in films, and I'm happy to see women get a little gun-crazy too.

Christy Lemire: OK, should we wrap up soon?

Susan Wloszczyna: Yes, let's fade to white.

Sheila O’Malley: I think I've said what I need to say ... for now. HA!!!

Christy Lemire: Perfect—sending you both a kiss.

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idratherbebaking · 8 years ago

Text

Bachelorette Cast Preview

Y’all, I’m so psyched for this season of “Bachelorette.” Rachel is so amazing, and I expect she won’t take any shit. (Or at least I hope so!) It’s awesome that we’re finally (finally!!) getting a Bachelorette of color, and one who’s so obviously smart and funny and put together and gosh I just want to be friends with Rachel so much!

So, since the premiere is tomorrow, they put up the cast bios!! Let’s get down to judging these men...

First, though, we’ve got our lead.

my fave!!

Rachel Lindsay, a fan favorite on the 21st season of ABC's hit romance reality series The Bachelor, starring Nick Viall, is the next woman to hand out the roses and attempt to find her own happy ending when The Bachelorette premieres for its 13th season on May 22.

Rachel's enchanting smile and laid-back southern charm landed her Nick's first-impression rose. From then on, the jury's been in, and Bachelor Nation has been unanimous in its support of the bright and beautiful attorney from Dallas, Texas.

Rachel, 32, obtained her under graduate degree at University of Texas at Austin, then went on to receive her law degree from Marquette University in Milwaukee. Driven and passionate about her career, Rachel quickly joined a prestigious law firm in Dallas after graduation. Winning in court has never been a problem, but finding love is a case that unfortunately remains open. [I see what you did there, ABC]

When she's not in the courtroom, Rachel enjoys jamming out to Michael Jackson and Prince, playing basketball and watching scary movies. Her future husband will need to be smart, funny, have a decent jump shot [A+ checklist, it’s working for me so far] and be willing to compete for her attention with the two other men she holds dearly: her handsome nephew, Allister, and her adorable dog, Copper.

Rachel went through the trials and tribulations of falling in love with Nick on The Bachelor. Now it will be her turn to "investigate" a group of wonderful men and find her soul mate.

idk why “investigate” is in quotes there? I guess it’s tangentially related to her being a lawyer? Weird.

They’ve got a profile for Chris Harrison, but I don’t really care, so we’re gonna skip right to the boiz!

Adam, 27, Real Estate Agent

Generic White Guy #1, possible douche

What is your most embarrassing moment? When I told my mom I was going on The Bachelorette. [ha! okay, i’m into it]

Who is your favorite actor and why? Jennifer Lawrence because she is every girl's goal. [okay, JLaw’s great, but I’m not sure how I feel about you liking her b/c you think women want to be her... that seems less than ideal to me...]

Do you consider yourself athletic? Very! Collegiate letter winner in football. [translation: i was on the team but rarely played]

What is the most romantic present you have ever received and why? Threesome. It was my birthday. [ugh. +50 Gross Points. look, i’m not here to judge your definition of romance -jk i totally am- but i’m pretty sure they’re asking why it was romantic, not why you received it.]

Do you consider yourself a good cook? Yes! I used to cook four-course meals in college and charge people. LOL [LOL!! 😒]

Verdict: unimpressed.

Alex, 28, Information Systems Supervisor

French Soccer Team Haircut, A+ eyebrows

What are your 3 worst attributes? Selfish, unemotional, unapologetic [sounds less than ideal, but i guess good on you for knowing your flaws?]

What is the most outrageous thing you have ever done? Ate a live salamander [WHAT THE FUCK DID SALAMANDERS EVER DO TO YOU?!?!?! those beautiful, good good amphibians, my babies 😭 ]

Who are your top 3 favorite groups/artists & why? Coldplay, Beatles … Can't really think of a third one. Music isn't a big part of my life. [is this guy secretly a robot]

Who is your favorite artist? The Rock (Dwayne Johnson) [fair enough]

Do you prefer a woman who wants to be pursued or a woman who pursues you and why? I like a woman that pursues me. I like an aggressive, go-getter type. [oh, buddy, you are on the wrong show. do you know how the Bachelorette works??]

Verdict: meh. Possibly a monster (who eats salamanders???? this is very distressing to me)

Anthony, 26, Education Software Manager

v pointy head; POC count: 1

What are your best attributes? I'm reliable and self-sufficient, emotionally intelligent, and generally very positive. [i’m liking this one]

What is the most outrageous thing you have ever done? Taking a job to teach English in Indonesia with minimal preparation. [v brave! world traveler!]

If you could be someone else for just one day, who would it be and why? My mom. I wish I could see the world as she does to understand her better. [is this one... woke??]

If you were stranded on a desert island, what would it be made of? Probably those flesh-eating plants from Life of Pi. [oh, shit, that’s dark, dude! but also showing off some literary knowledge, nice job]

What is your greatest achievement to date? Getting a Fulbright Grant to teach in the Ivory Coast. [holy shit, Anthony, you are seriously winning right now]

What are your top 3 favorite movies? The Iron Giant, Moonlight, The Matrix [yup, Anthony is #1 so far]

What is your favorite all-time book and why? Tough. The most recent is The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, by Haruki Murakami. It's like a dream I don't want to wake up from. [yesyesyes. i hope he’s as good on person as he seems on paper!]

What's the wildest thing you've done in the bedroom? I'll just say I have virtually no limits once that connection is there. [*wolf whistle*]

What is your ideal mate's personality like? Curious. Able to laugh at silly things, but also hold her own in an intellectual conversation. [oh, anthony, you seem too pure for this worldshow]

Verdict: 😍 Top Contender!!

brief side note: there are way less tattoos than i expected. none so far on these first 3 guys.

Blake E., 31, Aspiring Drummer [not a great start, Blake]

looks Country

Tattoos: I have "LRLL" (drum rudiment) and "D" (for the dog I rescued) on my left arm. [...drummers...]

What is the most outrageous thing you have ever done? Get engaged to a crazy girl. [i am not into the trend of calling women you break up with crazy. she’s generally an actually reasonable, sane person so this just makes you seem misogynistic]

What are your 3 worst attributes? Sensitivity, procrastination, and patience. [sensitivity actually sounds like a great thing to have. ditto patience. Blake, you’re like 30 points in the red rn]

What is your favorite flower? Red roses, because I am a classic gentleman. [unoriginal. do you know any other flowers?]

If you could watch any movie right now, what would it be, and why? The new 50 Shades of Grey movie because I love taboo sexy stuff. [problematic]

What is your favorite memory from childhood? Horseback riding camp. [+5 points. so now we’re at like -45]

What's the closest you have ever come to being married? I was engaged for 48 hours. [ah, yes, to the “crazy girl”...]

I hate it when my date…tells me about her cats. [do you hate cats or just women who want to talk about things they’re into?]

Who is the person you dislike most in the world and why? Parking ticket people, because they don't have souls. [come on, dude, they’re just trying to do their jobs]

Verdict: Gross. Smells like a Nice Guy, aka misogyny cloaked in “chivalry”

Blake K., 29, US Marine Veteran

cute, looks like a sweetheart; POC count: 2

If you could be someone else for just one day, who would it be and why? Dwayne (The Rock) Johnson, because he's the only person who could look cool wearing a fanny pack. [i dig it]

If you were stranded on a dessert island, what would it be made of? Chipotle because Chipotle is my life. [idk whose typo “dessert” is. i’m confused about why you’d want a dessert island made of Chipotle, but i can understand why you’d want a desert island made of Chipotle.]

What is your favorite flower? I'm going to go with roses. I'd like to receive as many as I can in the near future. [yes, lean into the pandering!! haha]

Who do you admire most in the world and why? My beautiful mother! Words can't express how grateful I am to have you in my life. I love you mom! [aww, sweet!!]

If you could have lunch with one person, who would it be and why? My father. He passed away a few years back and it would mean so much to speak with him again. [sweetheart status confirmed]

Meatloaf said he would "do anything for love, but he won't do that." What will you not do? Wrestle a crocodile or eat monkey brains. [fair enough]

Verdict: sweetheart!

Brady, 29, Male Model

probably decent, but v good looking so also possibly douchey

What is the most outrageous thing you have ever done? Besides applying for The Bachelorette, probably moving to Milan on my own for two months. [so worldly!]

If you could be someone else for just one day, who would it be and why? Channing Tatum so I could be rich, good looking, have a hot wife and bust out some sweet moves. [Channing Tatum does have sweet moves]

What do you do for fun in your hometown? Go to the beach. Go to the lake, golf, go sledding, go tackle snowmen. [“tackle snowmen”???]

What's the most romantic present you have ever received and why? Lululemon sweatpants. She knew the way to my heart is cuddling on the couch in well-made, high-quality sweats. [ngl i love the sweatpants i got for the fiance they are so soft and i just want to touch him all the time]

Describe your top 3 least favorite things to do on a date? Paying for everything, saying goodnight, getting an Uber that doesn't speak English. [uh-oh, i’m sensing some douche-ness. look, i don’t believe guys should always pay on dates, but when i’ve paid for dates, i’m happy and excited to do it b/c i feel like i’m doing something nice for my date. and frankly i’m a little leery of people who think non-English speakers are the worst things in any given situation.]

Who is the person you dislike most in the world and why? Mike The Situation from Jersey Shore. He's just a total bro that I wouldn't be able to stand. [i’m sensing some top-notch drama potential!]

If you could live in any other time period, what would it be? The '80s. They had a cool era and style. I couldn't go too primitive. I like my modern luxuries. [“too primitive”??? what does that even mean???]

Verdict: might be alright, but I’m sensing some not great things under that model veneer.

Bryan, 37, Chiropractor

Generic White Guy #2

What are your three best attributes? Affectionate/passionate, personable/charming/funny, kind/good heart [sir, that is 7 things, not 3]

If you could be someone else just for one day, who would it be and why? Bill Gates, just because he's so selfless and charitable. I would want to feel the gratification of donating billions of dollars to help so many people around the world. It would be the best feeling. [Bill Gates is cool, but you could probably get a similar feeling from donating like $100 to something. js]

What's your favorite flower? Orchid [translation: “i know like 3 flowers and want to seem fancy”]

What is your favorite television show and why? Sports Center. I love sports and love talking sports with my friends, so I get most information from that show and sports talk radio. And believe it or not, The Bachelor/Bachelorette series. I'm fascinated by the interaction socially between a man and a woman in dating/relationship/marriage, etc. [”most information”??!!?! dude please watch or read some non-sports news on occasion]

Do you speak any languages other than English? If so, which one(s)? How did you learn them? Spanish. I've spoken Spanish since I was a child. Taught to me by my mom who speaks to me primarily in Spanish. [update: Generic Hispanic Guy]

What's the most embarrassing style you've rocked? JNCO Jeans!! Sooooo baggy lol. Skate or die, man!! I looked ridiculous! [yes, you definitely did]

Do you plan on having kids someday? If yes, how many and why? Yes, 2 -3 kids, preferably two boys, one girl. A boy needs a little brother and they both can protect their sister. [or just teach your daughter to stick up for herself?? and teach your sons that women are fully capable human beings, not otherworldly entities to be put on a pedestal and guarded from other men?? plus one of your sons is going to be the younger and therefore not have the little brother he “needs” so i think your plan needs work]

Verdict: meh. not awful, not impressive.

Bryce, 30, Firefighter

Secret Superhero Identity: **THE JAW**

Would you describe yourself as "the party-starter," "the wingman" or "the laid back one"? Laid back shot of gasoline when the fire starts to die. [?????]

What is the most outrageous thing you have ever done? High speed pursuit on a motorcycle. Saved someone's life. Outrageous is relative. [you’re not... wrong...]

Who is your favorite actor and why? Matthew McConaughey. I could see myself being him. [*sigh* classic White Guy]

What's the most romantic present you have ever received and why? Handwritten letter. I feel like handwritten letters are one of the purest forms of materialized emotion. [”materialized emotion”!!! 😂 ]

What's the wildest thing you've done in the bedroom? Caught a girl's hair on fire once while having sex. [excuse me what??? - good thing he’s a firefighter, i guess!]

What does your ideal mate look like? Tall, athletic, soft features, eyes you could drown in and a smile that insults the sun. [how many poems is this guy gonna write for Rachel?]

How would you describe yourself as a lover? A fresh drink of water with a jolt of lightning. [i’m thinking at least 3 poems. also this description sounds like, “briefly refreshing then deadly”]

If you could do/have any job in the world, what would it be and why? Professional Instagrammer? How cool would it be to travel the world going on adventures and helping people solely funded through pictures you post of living your dream life! [Bryce do you understand how Instagram works]

Verdict: not the sharpest crayon in the box. also minus a zillion points for being uber transphobic. transwomen are women, not “dudes disguised as chicks” you cretin.

Dean, 26, Startup Recruiter

Babyface

Tattoos: Mom's initials on chest, artwork on back, friend's initials on back, "Righteous" on inner lip, Latin on hip, Triforce on inner arm [inner lip tattoo seems not great... they don’t even last that long?? also you gotta tell me what the latin says so i can use my latin knowledge for something!!]

If you were stranded on a dessert island, what would it be made of? Hot Cheetos and mint chocolate chip ice cream [i’m still confused about whether this is a desert or dessert island, but Hot Cheetos is 100% the wrong choice]

If you could have lunch with one person, who would it be and why? My mom. It's been over 10 years since she passed. Lunch would be amazing. [aw, sweet]

If you could go anywhere in the U.S., where would you go and why? Hawaii, I've never been. Also, my mother wanted her ashes scattered there. [bruh it’s been over 10 years what have you been doing?!?]

What is your favorite memory from childhood? When I was very young, my family lived in a mobile home. I remember sitting on top with my brothers watching a demolition derby and eating Oreos. [okay, dean, you got me. this is a legit sweet answer]

Describe your idea of the ultimate date. Anywhere that's fun where we can laugh and do new things. Pushing the limits of what both of us are comfortable with. [i’ve got good news for you there!]

Ever have trouble in the bedroom? Or been turned on during the wrong time? Whenever a girl tries to bite me I have to stop everything and have a discussion. [guess i know who not to call if the fiance and i break up haha]

Do you prefer a woman who wants to be pursued or a woman who pursues you and why? A woman who demands to be pursued. Nothing good comes easy. [this man DOES know what show he’s on!]

What does being married mean to you? I think marriage is an institutionalized sham derived from religious beliefs. That said, when I get married, it's a life-long commitment. [this makes no sense?]

Verdict: seems sweet and like he knows what this show is about. he’ll go far.

DeMario, 30, Executive Recruiter

Hello, beautiful!; POC Count: 3

Would you describe yourself as "the party-starter," "the wingman" or "the laid back one"? 100% the party starter… always blowing my whistle and making NOISE!!! Let's fire it up, put on some Prince and party like it's 1999!!!! [oh man this guy seems like a one-man party!]

Do you have any pets and if so, what kind? No pets but when I'm married with children I will own a pet lion and name him, "Denzel, the lion." [this is a terrible idea!! don’t own lions period but especially not when you’ve got kids they will get eaten!!!!]

Do you like being the center of attention, or do you prefer being more mysterious and why? I won't lie, I love attention… not like '07 B. Spears attention or 2011 Sheen. Natural attention like when Justin and Brit wore those incredible denim outfits. [hahaha this guy is great]

Describe your idea of the ultimate date. No cell phones, technology, just two people geeking out about life, love, goals, family, friends, music, movies, food, etc. [i can get behind that]

If you were stranded on a dessert island, what would it be made of? Strawberry cheesecake!!!! [exclamation points!!!!!!!]

Do you have any phobias that would prohibit your participation in certain activities? No, I'm perfect. [hahahaha demario you’re killing me!!]

What is the most romantic present you have ever given and why? Surprise tickets to see Beyoncé and Jay Z, because Bey and Jay = everyone's relationship goals. [true statement]

Who is your favorite actor and why? Denzel Washington because from the time I watched Malcolm X he was incredible. And through the years he has told some incredible stories through film and he is an incredible human, husband, father and mentor. [good answer good answer]

Verdict: Huge Nerd disguised as Cool Guy (i like it)

Diggy, 31, Senior Inventory Analyst

Cutie, but is he nerd or hipster???; POC Count: 4

What is a typical Saturday night like for you? Now, I'm trying to recover from all the day drinking! It can consist of napping to go back out or just recovering. [i, too, am An Old who can’t recover like i used to]

What's the most outrageous thing you have ever done? A trip to Cancun on Spring Break where we had a "sexual positions" contest [...oof...]

What's your most embarrassing moment? When I was stranded on a toilet for hours in 5th grade [i need to know this story!!]

Do you like being the center of attention or do you prefer being more mysterious and why? I love being the center of attention when I put myself in it. [always this. granted i only want to put myself in that spot like 5% of the time...]

Describe your idea of the ultimate date. A date where we're both experiencing something new together and step out of our comfort zones [good news for you, sir!]

Tell us a fun story about a one night stand. I spent all day with this girl and she ended up coming home with me and we had sex. She then received a text saying her brother was missing, so I played asleep so I didn't have to help! [did you miss that this was supposed to be a “fun story”??]

Verdict: hopefully he’s growing out of his frat-boy ways

Eric, 29, Personal Trainer

Brows On Fleek; POC Count: 5; also how is this the first personal trainer?

If you could be someone else for just one day, who would it be and why? Tony Robbins because he hosts amazing seminars and impacts the masses. [oh, sweetie, no!]

If you were stranded on a desert island, what 3 things would you bring with you and why? And what, under any circumstance could you not tolerate on that island? Water, Book of Proverbs, phone. I could not tolerate negative people. [terrible choices]

What are your top 3 favorite movies? Tough question! Blue Chips, Bad Boys and Equalizer [i have heard of only one of these]

What's your favorite book and why? As a Man Thinketh by James Allen. Simple format for being human and living life. [had to look this up. it’s from 1903. nothing more recent came to mind?]

If you could go anywhere in the US, where would you go and why? New Orleans during Mardi Gras week because I've never been. [this is weird for a guy that i’m getting an uber-Christian vibe from]

If you could live in any other time period, what would it be? Before money was involved [so, like, pre-agricultural hunter-gatherer days]

Verdict: too pious for my taste

Fred, 27, Executive Assistant

Sweater Man!!!!; POC Count: 6

If you could be someone else for just one day, who would it be and why? Ellen DeGeneres because she seems to love what she does and people's days are brightened when they are around her. [A+ choice]

What is your greatest achievement to date? My greatest achievement is attending two graduate school program from two different universities simultaneously and graduating from both in the same weekend. [mother of everything that sounds like hell, good on you for surviving that]

Who is your favorite artist? Jean-Michel Basquiat [i had to look him up. a real Artist.]

Describe your perfect hometown date. Where would it be and who would be there? My perfect hometown date would be with my sisters and my mom and we would go to Pappadeaux. [sweet and simple. nice.]

How would you describe yourself as a lover? I would describe myself as an unselfish lover. I wouldn't feel satisfied unless I knew my partner was. [nice nice]

What's your biggest date fear? The fear of having my card declined [i, too, have had this fear]

I love it when my date… pays for the meal. [who doesn’t amirite?]

Meatloaf said he would "do anything for love, but he won't do that." What will you not do? There isn't anything I wouldn't do. [fred i know you’re trying to be romantic but boundaries are not necessarily a bad thing]

Verdict: seems nice. i like his sweater.

Grant, 29, Emergency Medicine Physician

A Real Bro

What was your college experience like? It was great! I had a work hard, play hard attitude. I was the social chair of my fraternity and involved in on campus organizations while also getting accepted to medical school a year early. [update: A Real Frat Bro]

If you could be someone else just for one day, who would it be and why? President of the United States. I like being in charge of making big decisions. [no one over the age of 13 should want to be president b/c obviously it’s kind of a shitty job]

What is your most embarrassing moment? I once had a stomach bug in Peru and had to defecate in a cut open 2-liter coke bottle in the back of a tour bus. [you already told us you’re a doctor, no need to show off the vocab]

Do you like being the center of attention or do you prefer being more mysterious and why? I like being the center of attention while appearing to maintain a humble outlook on it. This allows for others to envy and respect you more. [you sound like a real asshole]

What kind of music do you listen to most often? Anything I can dance to. "Ice Ice Baby" is also one of my favorite songs because I used to sing it at Bar Mitzvahs on stage. [of course you did]

What are your favorite magazines? Playboy? ;) [dear lord save us from this man]

Do you prefer team sports or solo sports? Probably solo sports because then there is no one to blame for a loss but yourself. [translation: “i’m definitely not a team player”]

What's the most embarrassing style you've rocked? As a joke, I once shaved a brain into my hair. Embarrassing, but yet awesome. It was when I took a neuroanatomy class. [doesn’t count if it was related to a class.]

Verdict: the Douchiest of Bros

Iggy, 30, Consulting Firm CEO

Cutie-pie; POC Count: 7

What are your 3 best attributes? Passionate, loyal, witty

What are your 3 worst attributes? Passionate, loyal, witty [this is not a job interview]

If you could be someone else for just one day, who would it be and why? Usain Bolt. It's got to feel crazy to be that athletic. [added bonus: gold shoes]

If you were stranded on a dessert island, what would it be made of? Banana float… get it?? [haha this is kind of quality humor i love]

What are your favorite magazines? Harvard Business Review [please try less hard]

Ever have trouble in the bedroom? Or been turned on during the wrong time? We want to hear what happened! I once got a boner during a board meeting. I had to present sitting down. [good recovery]

I hate it when my date… is dumb. [maybe try to be more tactful in the future]

Verdict: seems fine. not the worst, not the best

Jack Stone, 32, Attorney

NO.

Who do you admire most in the world and why? Admired my mom. While battling cancer, she always stayed positive and had a zest for life until the very end. [Tragic Backstory Unlocked!]

What's the most outrageous thing you have ever done? Skydived in the Swiss Alps. [is it more outrageous because it was in the swiss alps?]

What is your favorite flower? Tulips. Basically, roses without thorns. There's a metaphor somewhere there. [first of all, no, tulips are not roses without thorns]

Who is your favorite author? John Grisham [this is just because he writes about lawyers isn’t it]

What's the wildest thing you've done in the bedroom? Plead the fifth [option a: he doesn’t want to say. option b: this is actually a reference to courtroom roleplaying.]

Do you prefer a woman who wants to be pursued or a woman who pursues you, and why? Wants to be pursued. She knows how to play the game. [sweet baby jesus this had better not be a reference to that fucking awful pua shit]

Verdict: jury is out, but polls don’t look good. ACTUALLY NO. THE VERDICT IS NO BECAUSE YOUR NAME IS THE LITERAL WORST.

Jamey, 32, Sales Account Executive

Bland White Guy

Tattoos: One on my left shoulder that's currently being removed. [translation: won’t commit]

If you could be someone else for just one day, who would it be and why? Someone less fortunate, so I appreciate my life more. [gross.]

If you were stranded on a desert island, what would it be made of? Chocolate and peanut butter [see, this is a desert island, not a dessert island]

What is your most embarrassing moment? Getting caught masturbating. [understandable]

Where do you see yourself in 5 years? I am trying to not make plans in life. [terrible idea]

What kind of music do you listen to most often? EDM/Hip-hop [bleh]

What is your favorite all time book and why? The Power of Your Subconscious Mind. It was a gift. [but was it also a good book??]

What does your ideal mate look like? A model [ew]

Describe your best friend of the opposite sex and why she/she deserves that title: I do not have female friends. [huge red flag!!!!]

Verdict: Gross. I hope he goes home night one.

Jedidiah, 35, ER Physician

Country Man

Tattoos: Cross on wrist, Proverbs 3:5 across back, wolf on left shoulder

Do you have any pets and if so, what kind? Not currently. All former dogs were over ½ wolf. [this statement is probably false. if true, it’s a horrible HORRIBLE idea.]

What is the most outrageous thing you have ever done? Stripped once in high school for a friend's big sister's birthday. Fifty dollars was a lot at the time. [haha what a rascal]

What is your greatest achievement to date? Building my parents a 5,000-square-foot log home on 10 acres in Montana. [well damn! color me impressed!]

What is your favorite flower? Wildflowers that grow in high altitudes, above tree lines. [thank goodness he didn’t say rose]

What is the best trip you have ever been on and why? South Africa is incredible. Raw and beautiful; great coffee, tea, wine, fruit, food, beautiful animals and landscapes, amazing people and very real problems like HIV and violence. [i’m glad you acknowledge the problems, but idk what they have to do with it being a great trip]

What is the craziest place you've had sex? Just off the continental divide on a glacier in the mountains. [this sounds too cold to be comfortable]

What are your favorite breakfast foods? LOVE scrambled eggs. [but what about waffles? bacon? biscuits?]

What makes you the happiest, what makes you mad? Happy: New socks, nice hotel rooms, good pens, in-room coffee. Mad: Wasting any time, when kids get hurt. [sweet answer]

Verdict: A Man’s Man

Jonathan, 31, Tickle Monster [HAHAHAHAHAHAHA]

Skinny Weirdo

Tattoos: Not yet [keeping those options open]

What are your 3 best attributes? Easy to get along with, funny, driven!

What is the most outrageous thing you have ever done? Skydiving! Twice [single exclamation points make me suspicious]

Do you consider yourself neat, messy or in between? Organized, but dirty. When you walk into my house it looks neat and in order, but if you took your shoes off you'd realize there is sand all over the floor from the beach. [messy but clean >>> “organized but dirty”]

What is your favorite flower? Now, it's a single red rose [LOL]

Who are your top 3 favorite groups/artists and why? Elvis Presley, Britney Spears, Flo Rida [i don’t buy it]

Tell us about when you lost your virginity – or if you haven't yet, why? With my ex-wife. Pretty uneventful. [let’s hope she never reads this]

How would you describe yourself as a lover? I ensure both of us are satisfied. Pretty open to most things. Usually last a long time (in a good way.) [tbh i’m really uncomfortable with specifics in answering these questions]

Verdict: Not Feeling It

Josiah, 28, Prosecuting Attorney

Josiah the Well-Groomed; POC Count: 8

What is a typical Saturday night like for you? Going out to a cigar bar then heading down to South Beach with a group of friends [no cigars are the worst!!]

What are your 3 best attributes? Height, smile, hair – (physical), personality, public speaking [not counting b/c this is 5]

Who do you admire most in the world and why? My father. He spent his entire life taking care of at-risk youth. After his first-born son committed suicide, he remained a strong head of the household. [found the Tragic Backstory, but it’s weird that he says “first-born son” instead of “my brother”]

Do you like to go out dancing? If yes, what is your preferred type of dancing? No, I can't dance at all. [BOOOO]

Where is the craziest place you've had sex? In my office at work! [oh dang!]

What's your worst date memory? Being catfished! A girl arrived on the date pregnant!! [i don’t think that’s really what it means to be catfished]

If you could do/have any job in the world, what would it be and why? Head state prosecutor in my community to affect real change. I would help those that have made mistakes. [update: Josiah the Realist]

Verdict: Fine I Guess

Kenny, 35, Professional Wrestler

Michael Strahan; POC Count: 9

Tattoos: A cross on my right arm, caveman on my chest and Japanese Kanji for "fearless" on shoulder. [how sure are you it says “fearless”]

What is a typical Saturday night like for you? Either wrestling in my underwear in front of thousands of people or at home with my daughter. [d’awww]

If you could have lunch with one person, who would it be and why? The Rock. We are very much alike. [invite me?]

Who is your favorite actor and why? Denzel Washington. Power screen presence. Complete emotional control. [solid choice]

What is your favorite all-time book and why? The New Jim Crow. It enlightened me to a whole lot. [oooh, i’ve been meaning to read that!]

What is the most romantic present you have ever given? Different Edible Arrangements every day for a birthday week. [food gifts are always a good choice]

Ever have trouble in the bedroom? Or been turned on during the wrong time? We want to hear what happened! There was about two weeks when I first started dating my ex that I was Quick Draw McGraw. [haha poor guy!]

Who is the person you love most in this world and why? My daughter. She is literally my reason for living. She makes my life better. [everybody loves a dad]

If you could live in any other time period, what would it be? Ancient Egypt [decisive. i can appreciate that.]

Verdict: Solidly Good Dude

Kyle, 26, Marketing Consultant

Open *ALL* the buttons!; POC Count: 10

If you could have lunch with one person, who would it be and why? Donald Glover. I respect him on so many levels as a musician, actor, general creative, activist and businessman. Or Ed Snowden. [this is an odd combination of people]

Gluten? Not really sure what it is or what food it lives in, but I select gluten-free menu options when I can. [ugggghhhhh the woooooorrrrrrsssttttt]

Do you enjoy camping? Yes! Camping is awesome. I like hiking, fires, pitching tents, fishing… hate bugs though, so bug nets and spray are essential. [omitted the #1 best part of camping (s’mores): -10 points]

What's the wildest thing you've done in the bedroom? Ex was into BDSM and introduced me to being a dom. Interesting, but don't like hurting people, so it's weird. Fun with her though. [willing to explore partner’s interests: +20 points]

What does your ideal mate look like? 7+. Looks matter for the ideal candidate. Any culture or skin tone. Big butt. I'm definitely a butt guy. [ranks people’s looks on a scale: -7 points, a bit skeezy]

How would you describe yourself as a lover? Intimate, emotional, fun, supportive. If you mean specifically during sex, "athletic," lol. [“lol” 😕]

Verdict: Avoiding gluten for no reason is the worst. I’m out.

Lee, 30, Singer/Songwriter

Oof, that hair

Who do you admire most in the world and why? My Mamaw! I admire how she adapts to the circumstances she faces enough to progress and successfully thrive. She survived the Depression as a kid, grew and raised an incredible family. [he’s a country boy for sure]

Who is your favorite actor and why? Matthew McConaughey! He is insanely talented, accomplished and has very strong family values and dedication. [why do white guys love matthew mcconaughey so much]

What are your top all-time favorite movies? Gone with the Wind, Inglourious Basterds, and Scarface [i do not believe “gone with the wind” is one of this man’s favorite movies]

What do you do for fun in the city you live in and why? Music in Music City. I listen and I've played at just about every venue there! [he’s talking about nashville, right?]

Do you consider yourself romantic and why? Absolutely! I'm a "pleaser" under wraps! I like to do things to make someone emotional and happy. [i’m 100% sure that his “pleaser” status is not under wraps]

Verdict: Probably Fine

Lucas, 30, Whaboom [STAAHHPP]

Awful White Guy

Do you have any pets and if so, what kind? Had a dog and cat growing up. Now an ant farm, fish and I'm an uncle to a cat. [“uncle to a cat” oh no]

If you could have lunch with one person, who would it be and why? Dead: Bruce Jenner, Alive: Caitlyn Jenner …. Would be a very interesting convo. [I don’t know that we would call Bruce Jenner dead, per se...]

If you were stranded on a desert island, what would it be made of? And what, under any circumstance, could you not tolerate on that island? 1. Waterproof lighter 2. Spear gun 3. Cast of The View. Couldn't tolerate The Situation from Jersey Shore. [i haven’t thought about jersey shore in years, now 2 guys have said they can’t stand The Situation. weird]

Do you like to go out dancing? If yes, what is your preferred type of dancing? Love dancing. Tango, Swing, Ballroom, Russian dance, Freestyle …. and good old bump and grind. [nice nice nice okay cool... huh.]

What is the most embarrassing style you've rocked? Chiquita Banana outfit [there’s a story behind this and the people need to know!]

Tell us a fun story about a one night stand. Threesome at a wedding party. [some talented authors might be able to tell a story in 5 words. lucas is not that talented author.]

What does your ideal mate look like? Belle (Beauty and The Beast), Cinderella, Little Mermaid … and the best, Jessica Rabbit! [very specific... and very specifically not Rachel.]

Verdict: Hopefully Going Home Very Quickly

Matt, 32, Construction Sales Rep

White Bro

If you could be someone else just for one day, who would it be and why? Maybe Matt Lauer so I could help people start their day off on the right foot. He seems like a genuine guy and a class act. [“and i wouldn’t even have to change my name!”]

Who are your top 3 favorite groups/artists and why? Justin Timberlake, Train, John Mayer. All three have gone their own route and still stood the test of time. [confession: i unabashedly love train. also this answer is the most obviously honest one about musical taste so far.]

Do you prefer team sports or solo sports, and why? Team sports. I've always thought they are a good metaphor for life. [good news: this guy will work with others!]

What is the most romantic present you have ever given? Why? Lingerie. I knew I was in love once I found myself shopping at Victoria Secret. [p sure lingerie is a gift for yourself and therefore not actually romantic]

What's the craziest place you had sex? The balcony of a cruise ship. [i really hope it was a private balcony]

What's your worst date memory? I went on one Tinder date a few years back. Right away I realized why I wasn't the online dating type. [details, please!]

If you could have one superpower, what would it be and why? Telepathy because it would make dating so much easier. [bless your heart, i don’t think you really want to know what every woman around you is thinking]

Verdict: Average Joe Matt

Michael, 26, Former Professional Basketball Player

Token Former Pro Sports Man; POC Count: 11

What is the most outrageous thing you have ever done? Sign a contract to play professional basketball in Bulgaria. [suspicion (not an NBA player) confirmed]

If you could have lunch with one person, who would it be and why? President Obama, because I want to hear what obstacles, hardship and challenges he had to face to attain the highest position in America. [omg please bring me along!!]

Who is your favorite actor and why? Denzel, because every movie he was in were all classics and for him to act in several different characters is very impressive. [denzel is cleaning up on these favorite actor answers]

What is your favorite television show and why? Martin, because even though I've seen each episode more than 100x each, it never gets old. [me: “what is this tv show?” fiance: “are you fuckin’ kidding?? you are SO WHITE!”]

What's your biggest date fear? One of my friends hooking up with my date in the past. [but then she’ll have heard how amazing you are, right?]

Do you follow a specific diet? Paleo. [oh nooooooo]

Verdict: Middle of the Pack

Milton, 31, Hotel Recreation Supervisor

Looks like one of my college drum majors; POC Count: 12

Tattoos: Yes, inside my bottom lip. [why is this a thing at all???]

What is the most outrageous thing you have ever done? Live four months without power. Cold showers are no joke. [this is only “outrageous” if you weren’t living outdoors at the time]

What is your greatest achievement to date? Dominating my basketball league after college. I was Kobe back then. [i’m skeptical]

Do you have a serious fear of any kind of animal? Spiders [me, too, dude. me. too.]

What do you hope to get out of participating in this television show? Real answer? Discovered. Everyone tells me I'm made for TV/movies. Doesn't mean I'm out here hoping for that, but I would like to break into writing or acting. [at least he’s honest??]

Do you like to go out dancing? If yes, what is your preferred type of dancing? Salsa. I love spinning the girls. [nice]

How would you describe yourself as a lover? Good. I like to take care of my lady first. [so says every contestant]

Do you consider yourself a romantic and why? Kinda. I don't mind being romantic, but it can show you're weak. [showing emotion does not mean you’re weak!!!]

Verdict: Not Here for the Right Reasons (Minor Points for Honesty)

Mohit, 26, Product Manager

First Ever Indian Dude!!; POC Count: 13

If you could have lunch with one person, who would it be? Elon Musk. I'm a fan of his fearlessness. [elon musk gets 2 lunch dates with bachelorette contestants!]

Gluten? I'm going to dress up as that for Halloween. [haha mohit you’re the greatest]

What is your favorite memory from your childhood? Meeting the Power Rangers. [luckiest kid in the world!]

What kind of music do you listen to most often? Rap and country. Yes, you read that correctly. [those usually do not go together]

What's the wildest thing you've done in the bedroom? One word: Tabasco. [that sounds horrifying]

Verdict: Seems like a Funny Dude

Peter, 31, Business Owner

TV Normal

What is the best trip you have ever been on and why? I moved to Athens, Greece for modeling for three months. It was everything! I saw the world, made friends, was forced to grow up and be self-sufficient. Learned a lot! [sounds p cool]

What's the closest you have ever come to being married? My ex of two years. I was looking at rings after just three months. [slow that roll, peter!]

Tell us a fun story about a one night stand. I woke up naked on the cold floor of a pitch-black room. Thought I had been abducted. Then there was a knock and a woman's voice at the door. "Are you ok?" she asked. I asked her to open the door. Turns out it was a girl I had known for a while in the bar scene. I was on the floor of her bathroom where I passed out after going home with her. I was 19 or 20. [there’s a real strange definition of “fun” going on with these guys]

What is your greatest achievement to date? Three Ironmans. One on a broken foot. [peter seems like one of those people who legit go insane if they don’t exercise. my friend sarah is that way. she was practically climbing the walls when she broke her foot and couldn’t do mma.]

If you could be someone else for just one day, who would it be and why? A professional football player. It is my favorite sport with an awesome paycheck. They're superstars for playing a sport, a game. It just seems so easy. [it seems easy b/c they’re really good at their jobs]

Verdict: Might be alright

Rob, 30, Law Student

Cross between James Marsden & James Franco, weirding me out

What was your college experience like? Good! Lots of travel and exchanges. I did half of my university overseas (China, Taiwan, Peru, Spain.) [lucky duck!]

If you could have lunch with one person who would it be and why? Buddha. So I could discuss his philosophies on detachment, suffering and divinity. [that’s hardcore lunch talk]

If you could be any superhero, which one would you be and why? Superman! He's got the coolest superpowers and is also a U.S. alien, like me! [this explains calling it “university”]

What's the most embarrassing style you've rocker? Blonde highlights and diamond studs. Back in my boy band phase, '90s/early 2000s. [i think you get a pass since you were like 12]

Do you prefer a woman who wants to be pursued or a woman who purses you, and why? I prefer a woman who pursues me. It shows that she has the focus and the courage to go for something that she wants despite the cultural expectation that the man do the pursuing. [you know you’re on the bachelorette, right?]

Verdict: Seems Cool but is on the Wrong Show

Will, 28, Sales Manager [thank jeebus finally on the last one!]

Best Smile; POC Count: 14

What are your top 3 all-time favorite movies? Shawshank Redemption, Star Wars, Jurassic Park. [A+ picks]

What is the best trip you have ever been on and why? Dubai. I love experiencing new cultures. [fancy!]

What's your worst date memory? Every Tinder date ever. [i know online dating can be the worst but surely you had 1 date that went okay??]

If you're interested in someone, do you tend to become shy or outgoing? I can be slightly more reserved at first. [bad news bears]

If you could have one superpower, what would it be and why? How would you use it? Teleportation. I love to travel, but hate the waiting. [BEST ANSWER]

Meatloaf said he would "do anything for love, but he won't do that." What will you not do? Be someone's second choice. [fair enough]

Verdict: Cool, but shy people tend to leave early

Phew!! That was intense. 31 GUYS. Too many. But 14 are POC, which is the most ever, so good job ABC on actually getting some real casting diversity happening.

My faves: Anthony, Blake K, Dean, Kenny, Jedidiah, DeMario

I’d try to pick my top 3, but frankly it’s taken me 3 days to get through all these bios so I am way too mentally exhausted to bother with that. I’ve already forgotten who some of these dudes are. But I’m psyched for the drama to start!! And ready for Rachel to be ✨amazing✨ as always!

#bachelorette #cast bios #31 men is too many #i can't keep track #or remember them at all

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