#Tony Suggs

[musicandotherstuff]

Put together by music photographer Tony McGee; his son, Max McGee; Michael Goodall and his son, Joe Goodall, the auction of rare photographs of musicians, called Unseen, will take place at London's Iconic Images Gallery on November 28, with proceeds going directly to the Mental Aid charity. Other stars to feature in the photographs, and have their work on sale, include members of the Arctic Monkeys, Sir Rod Stewart, former Stones bassist Bill Wyman, Nick Cave, Joan Armatrading, Pet Shop Boys singer Neil Tennant, Fleetwood Mac's Mick Fleetwood and Suggs from Madness.

- The Standard

📸: Matt Helders

[mediocre-writerr]

congrats on 2k! if you can, i'd love a wanda maximoff x romanoff!reader! based on the prompt "all that we are is all that we'll ever be because he's the one waiting at home." - smoke slow, joshua bassett

maybe reader and wanda had a secret relationship going on, but wanda is dating natasha right now. just super angsty, maybe with a happy ending or not, it's up to you!

thank you! and congrats again!

smoke slow [wanda maximoff]

summary: a college au; you and wanda started breaking away from the crowd and it started innocently, until it wasn't. the biggest problem, she's dating your older sister.

warnings: a few curse words, mentions of smut, angst, smoking, mentions of death, mentions of addictions

pairings: wanda maximoff x fem!reader, natasha romanoff x sister!reader, yelena belova x sister!reader

*not my gif*

The night was alive. The air was so thick and smokey. The music thrummed straight through the bodies surrounding you and into your eardrums. It mixed with a variety of conversations, half of them were high-induced philosophies and theories, while the other half were drunken confessions. Sweat flicked through the air with the start of every dance move. Tony Stark’s parties, always a rager, no matter what the occasion. 

You shimmied off the dance floor, avoiding the hormone monsters that are college students grinding on one another. You were desperate for some sort of fresh air, away from the stuffiness of the dance floor. The kitchen was somewhat empty, more sober people maintaining intelligent conversations. Grabbing a red solo cup, you filled your cup with beer, as you people watched. Thor was trying his hardest to be Valkyrie in beer pong, but by the looks of the cups, he was failing. Steve, Bucky, and Sam had their arms wrapped around one on another as they sang along to some tune. But your eyes were torn from the scene when shouts of her name rang throughout your ear. 

“Wanda!!” Clint yelled the loudest. 

Her emerald eyes found yours, like it was the most natural thing in the world, her lips quirked upwards slightly. As quick as it appeared, it faded away, like reality finally caught up to her. You let out a deep breath as you maintained eye contact, trying to slow your racing heartbeat, “Y/N! Dude!” Scott yelled and you looked down at your cup to see it spilling over the edge like Niagra Falls. 

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, turning off the tap, and wiping off your beer soaked hands. Your eyes filtered back up to Wanda, as the redheaded Russian appeared behind her, intertwining their fingers together. You reach for the paper towel roll, ripping off a few pieces to clean up the mess you made. 

“Wow sestra, the party started an hour ago and you’re already making a mess,” Natasha’s voice made you freeze in your spot. You turn to face your older sister wearing her infamous shit-eating smirk. 

Your eyes drifted down to their intertwined hands as you gave them your best smile, “Ouch Nat, no, how’s my favorite sister doing? Or I’m so happy to see you!” You tease and she playfully rolls her eyes. 

“Yelena would kick my ass if she heard me say that you’re my favorite sister,” Nat said, her eyes scanning the crowd. “Where is she anyway?” 

You shrug, “Last time I checked she was about to play a game with Kate. Something about shooting arrows at beer bottles that rested on top of Peter’s head,” Natasha’s eyes widen at your nonchalant tone. Her eyes once more scanning the crowd for your younger sister. “Anyway, back to the whole favorite thing. She can’t kick your ass if it’s the truth. I mean I’m your favorite sister, right?” Your sister rolls her eyes, as she starts weaving her way through the crowd in search of Yelena, “Wait! Nat! I’m your favorite, right?!” you yell over the loud music and the indistinct chatter. 

Wanda chuckles, “Are they really shooting beer bottles off of Peter’s head?” She asks with a knowing look in her eyes.

Your eyes shined back with mischief, shaking your head, “Nope! Kate and Yelena suggested the idea, but Peter quickly shot it down, despite them trying to blackmail him.” The two of you share a giggle at the thought of the best friends. 

“They’re gonna kill that poor boy one day,” she says and you nod your head in agreement. The two of you stand there in a comfortable silence, people watching.

Wanda’s hand drifts closer to yours, desperate for some sort of contact with you. Before she intertwines your fingers together, you pull away quickly, “Shit. I promised Steve I would bring him this beer. He’s probably looking for where I am, I’ll catch you later,” you smile at her before taking the red solo cup and whisking yourself away. You left so fast, you didn’t get a chance to see Wanda’s disappointed look on her face. 

The stuffy room suddenly felt suffocating, slipping out to the backyard, it was a lot less crowded. You slipped your shoes off, rolling up the cuffs of your jeans, as you dipped your legs into the pool. The cool summer night breeze brushed through your hair, drying the sweat that lingered from the dance floor. You grabbed your pack of cigarettes from your back pocket, flickering your lighter to slowly kill yourself by inhaling the small cancerous stick. 

Your mind drifted back to the brunette inside, you could marry her. You really wanted to fucking marry her. You had never felt this way about anyone before. Even though you shouldn’t, you know damn well that you shouldn’t. But that night over winter break changed everything for you. 

The winter breeze shook through your body, as your legs dipped into the freezing water. You hugged your jacket tighter against your body, pulling out the pack of cigarettes from your jacket pocket. You felt someone’s presence next to you, as they sat down, dipping their own feet into the pool. You slowly inhaled from the nicotine lit stick, as you turned your head to face the unknown presence. Wanda had a sheepish smile on her face, her brunette hair tucked back behind her ears, “Can I have a light?” she asks. 

You chuckle softly, flicking the ash onto the concrete next to you, “Wanda Maximoff, having a smoke? Since when?” 

“Since right now. I want to try one,” she said, sitting up straight, her voice sounding confident, like she knew what she was doing. 

“No, I’m not gonna give you one,” you laugh at her shocked face.

“But why not? You do it all the time!” she questioned with her eyebrows furrowed and matching pout on her face. 

God she looked so adorable, but you quickly shook that intrusive thought off, “Exactly I do it all the time, which doesn’t make it a good thing. These little guys are terrible for you, especially when you get addicted. They slowly kill you from the inside out. I mean I have one every day and you know what? It’ll probably kill me one day. At the time, I didn’t have anyone care enough about me to tell me to stop.  So no you absolutely can not have one because if I give you one my sister would probably kill me before the smoking does."

She looks at you with her eyes widened and a small smile, "Are you sure this is about Nat kicking your ass or do you not want to give me one because you care about me?" She teased in a sing songy voice as a light pink coats your cheeks.

“Definitely more about my sister kicking my ass. Speaking of my sister, I’m honestly surprised you came to this party. My sister is off on a work trip in Boston and you’re usually attached at the hip.” 

She rolls her eyes, “Well, someone was a little convincing today with the whole ‘Wanda please! We haven’t hung out together since you started dating my sister!’ begging act that you pulled today.” 

“Excuse me! I was not begging!” you bring your voice down to a whisper, leaning towards her ear, “Trust me Maximoff, when I’m begging there'll be much less clothes on,” you wink at her, causing her eyes to widen and a soft blush to dust over her cheeks. She slaps your shoulder, throwing her face in her hands before letting out a groan, “C’mon, pretty girl, let’s get you a drink!” 

You get thrown back into reality, when Thor drunkenly jumps into the pool and the cool water sprays across your face, “Sorry Y/N! Thor lost at beer pong and this was the punishment!” Valkyrie explained and you gave her a tight lipped smile before getting up and going back inside. 

You were just going to sit by the window sill away from the rest of the party, but your eyes found Natasha and Wanda’s figures on the dance floor. The two of them moved sensually to the beat and you couldn’t help, but feel the ache in your heart. You couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away until those god damn green eyes found yours and you quickly looked away, sneaking off towards the balcony. No one else really knew about it. But you knew it, all too well. 

Wanda’s breath was close to your ear, as she tried to get you to hear her over the pounding music, “Do you want to break away from all of this? I think I need a little breather.” 

You nod, “C’mon, I know the perfect place,” you extend her hand out to her and she intertwines your fingers together, not wanting to get separated in the crowd. 

Leading her through the house and to the balcony on the top floor, you opened the door for her. The rest of the party seemed to have faded away from your secluded spot. The only real noise was the muffled music coming from downstairs, but even that seemed like it was miles away. The drinks were taking effect, not too bad enough to have you spinning, but a nice little buzz in your head. 

The two of you take a seat on the little patio chairs, looking up at the bright city skyline. People like to think of the New York City skyline as one of the most beautiful views in the world, but as Wanda sits next to you with the bright city lights illuminating her face, it definitely tops the city. Once more, you fetch out your pack of cigarettes, lighting another one as it rested in between your fingers. 

“You said that when you first started smoking it felt like you had no one who cared about you, why is that?” the brunette asks, staring at you intently as you exhale a puff of smoke. 

You shrug, flicking the ash onto the ground, “I started back when we were seniors in high school, after my mom died and my dad left. Nat turned 18 not too long before my mom died and she was forced into the role of being an actual adult because when you turn 18, you’re not really an adult even though you’re labeled as one. Some 18 year olds just finished high school, and are still living with their parents, but Nat had to take care of two younger sisters. She had to put her life on hold for me and Lena. Instead of helping her and supporting her, when our mom died I kind of blew off all responsibilities. I turned rebellious, stopped playing volleyball, hung out with the wrong crowd. Nat always had the disappointed mom look and she was always angry at me, which made Yelena angry with me all the time. So, when I started smoking our relationship was so bad, that it felt like neither of them would have cared.” 

“I didn’t know that,” she whispered. It was eye opening to her, you were her best friend. Of course, she knew that your mom died and that your dad left as soon as she died. But it seemed like a new side of you was shining through. 

“Not a lot of people do. It’s one of the things I regret the most, you know? I was so selfish back then. I mean even Yelena acted like more of an adult than I did. Now every time I light one of these guys, it’s a constant reminder of what I did…or well I guess what I didn’t do. My punishment for how I acted back then,” you chuckle lightly, “I’ve never said that before, so I better not regret telling you Maximoff.” A lighthearted tone in your voice, as you try to hide the self depreciation in it. 

Her head tilts to the side and her eyes are lit up, like you just showed her the most amazing thing in the world, “You won’t.” 

A shiver ripples through her body and you quickly shrug off your jacket, placing them over her body. Your scent of smoke and subtle hints of vanilla invaded her senses, quickly becoming addicted to it. “Why didn’t you bring a jacket, Wands? My sister’s not here, so who are you trying to impress,” you quip and she smiles, shaking her head. 

“No one,” she mutters, but she desperately wishes she could say, ‘you’. 

“What’s got you so angry?” Yelena asks, plopping down next to you with her own red solo cup in her hand. The soft memory fading away from your mind as you shrug. The itch to reach for another cig was becoming too strong.

“Nothing. How’d you even know I was up here?” 

“I saw you pouting like Peter Parker when Kate and I make fun of him, so I followed you up here,” she shrugs, “So do you want to talk about it?” 

“Not really," you say pulling at the loose thread from the rips in your jeans.

She scoffs, “Let me rephrase that question, do you not want to talk to me about it because it’s about Wanda?” 

“Yelena don’t-“

“No Y/N. Look, whatever you and Wanda had going on, it needs to stop,” your younger sister scolds.

You stand up abruptly, rubbing your face with your hands, “Don’t you think I know that? You’ve already lectured me once and I’ve kept my distance from her since then. I am trying my best! Now please, just leave me here to sulk, I’ll be fine just like I always am.”

She throws the pack of cigarettes that you didn’t even know fell out of your pocket. Some of them rolling onto the ground, “You told me you quit these too! You don’t think I could smell the smoke off of you right now? I may be your little sister, but I am not stupid. So if you were lying about these, how do I know you’re really lying about stopping things with Wanda?” 

She opens the balcony door about to walk in, but she stops just as she enters the frame, “You’re supposed to be the older sister, right?” She looks at you intently like she’s waiting for an answer and you just nod. “So fucking act like it.”

Yelena slams the door shut. You collapse onto the patio chair, dropping your face into your hands as you let out a shaky breath. Your shaky hands reached for the pack of cigarettes on the floor, neatly placing it in a box, but keeping one of them out, lighting it as it rests in between your lips. 

How did everything get so fucked up?

“I’m not this type of girl,” Wanda whispers in the middle of the night. You and your sisters had your closest friends over for a small party. Everyone else seemed to have passed out from Yelena’s drinking games. But both you and Wanda were fighting dreamland and instead giving into your fantasies.

The spring breeze rippled through the two of you as you stood out on your apartment balcony. “What do you mean?” 

She shrugs, leaning in a bit closer, “I don’t sneak around in the middle of the night and secretly hope that my girlfriend's sister is awake. I don’t hug someone for longer than what is deemed friendly in a stranger’s eyes. I don’t immediately look at someone who’s not my girlfriend after anyone tells a joke just to see their smile,” she says, as the two of you just continue to get lost into each other’s eyes.

You start shrinking under her gaze, reaching for the pack of cigarettes in your hoodie pocket. You were about to light it when Wanda grabbed the lighter and the rest of the pack that you held in your hand. Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared into her beautiful green eyes, “You once told me a month ago that you felt like you had no one who cared enough to tell you to stop smoking when you first started. So, I’m telling you right now that I care about you and I don’t want you to kill yourself with these stupid sticks.”

A shy smile curled onto your face, as you let her throw your pack into the trash can. “I’m not that kind of girl either, but as I’m staring into those goddamn eyes of yours all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you.” You quip back, ignoring the guilt induced thoughts that are trying to betray what your heart is screaming at. 

She snorted at your response, a mischievous smile on her face. The pad of Wanda’s thumb gently traces over your lips and your body freezes. Her hands hesitantly move from your lips to your cheeks, as she stares into your eyes begging for approval. Without thinking, you leaned in and kissed her lips, and the brunette immediately returned the kiss gently. 

You place your hands on her chest, pressing harder against her lips. She smiles to herself as she places her hand on your waist. Your kisses become more passionate as your tongue battles for dominance. Her hands on your hips pulled you closer and your cold hands quickly slid under your shirt.

As she ran out of breath, she decided to slide down to her neck, leaving sloppy kisses. You let out a small moan in pleasure, “Wanda?” She hums in response, slightly nipping your neck, “Do you want to take this to my room?”

“Please,” she mumbled against your neck. 

When it was over, the two of you lay next to each other. The pants of your breathing filled your bedroom. Your bare chests moving in perfect rhythm to your shared heartbeat. The beautiful brunette shifts her body towards you, looking at you with droopy eyes and tired smile. 

“Hi,”  Wanda whispered shyly. 

“Hi,” you said, charmed. 

She grabs your fingers and plays with them, weaving her own fingers between them, bringing your hand up to your lips, pressing a soft kiss against it. Your hands trace figures along your hip. Her gentle hand brushes away a stray piece of hair that fell across your face, as she tucked it into place. 

“I have always wanted you,” she whispers, “It’s always been you.” 

What should’ve been the last time turned into a past time. Two best friends breaking away from a party started innocently. Gossiping in the bathrooms quickly turned into heated makeout sessions. A breather on the balcony away from your drunken peers turned into deep conversations with her head tucked into the crook of your neck as you hold onto each other.  

That one tiny spark that the two of you wouldn’t put out was slowly coming to the end of the cigarette. The cigarette stick was nothing, but a nub as it was about to disintegrate into thin air.

At first it was fun, making a million excuses just to have a simple moment alone. Until, the need for something more came to be and the realization of what the two of you had done seeped into your bloodstream like some sort of drug. A drug that you couldn’t kick. You had stopped smoking for her, but she was this new drug that you were terribly addicted to.  

Wanda’s head rested on the top of your chest, as your arms wrapped securely around her. From the curtains of your window, you could see the sun start to slowly rise, and the soft snores from her mouth filled the room. 

You kiss the top of her head gently, “Wands,” you whispered in her ear, scratching her back. A soft hum escaped her lips as she stirred in your arms, “The sun’s coming up, you should sneak out before Yelena wakes up.” 

“Just a few more minutes,” she whispers, nuzzling deeper into your neck. 

“We don’t have a few more minutes, darling,” you respond with a soft smile on your face. She lets out a soft groan before lifting herself off of you. Wanda sat up, pulling your oversized t-shirt over her, and a pair of shorts. Her hair was slightly disheveled and her tired eyes were one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. “You’re a work of art, Wanda Maximoff.” 

She snorted, “That was lame,” she mumbled, leaning down to kiss you. Her lips slightly chapped, but you didn’t care, you just loved the feeling of her lips on yours. “I’ll see you at the party tomorrow night, where we are going to go through with our plan and tell Natasha together, right?”

Even though her eyes were still droopy, she looked at you intently, “Right,” you mumbled against her lips, pressing another kiss to them.

“Y/N, I need you to promise me this time. Every time we’ve made a plan to tell her the truth, you’ve backed out. We can’t keep lying to her like this. I want to be with you the right way. So, please…for me?” she whispered to you.

You let out a sigh, pressing a kiss to her forehead, before touching them together, “I promise.”

“I love you,” she whispered into the thin air. 

“I love you. I have loved you, well…definitely longer than I should have. We’ll tell her tonight and we’ll face the consequences together. I promise,” A wide smile crosses her face and how you so desperately wish you could hold onto that smile forever. She wraps her arms around your neck, pulling herself closer to you as she kisses you with so much love, you don’t know how your heart hasn’t exploded. “Now, you should probably get going before Lena wakes up. C’mon pretty girl, I’ll walk you out,” you whisper to her, kissing her quickly. 

The two of you reach your apartment door, kissing her once more before asking her to text you when she gets home. You were about to stumble back to bed, desperate for some shut eye, when you bumped into a figure. Your eyes flickered onto your little sister. 

“What are you doing up so early?” She questions.

“I needed some water, so I just chugged a glass,” you lied. “Why are you up so early?” 

“I promised Kate that I would go on a morning run with her, Peter, and Lucky this morning,” she answered, staring at you intently. 

You give her a tight lipped smile, “Well, I uh hope you have fun. I’ll see you when you get-“

“Are you sure you were just grabbing some water? Because from what I saw from here, you were just walking Wanda out of the apartment. She was wearing one of your shirts, which I thought was fishy. But I just thought that maybe she just spent the night. I don’t know why you wouldn’t tell me, but that’s cool. I gave you the benefit of the doubt, I didn't want to jump to conclusions. But all of that benefit of the doubt bullshit I told myself flew out my head when I saw you kiss her goodbye. What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Lena, look-“

“How long?” She interrogated you and your eyes drift down to your hands as you fiddled with them. Your little sister looked down to meet your gaze, forcing you to look her in the eyes, “How long, Y/N?”

“For the last three months, but we’re planning to tell her the truth  tomorrow night at Stark’s party.” 

“I need you to listen to me very carefully, Y/N. Nat has sacrificed everything for us! Everything! She declined her top college on the west coast to stay home and take care of us. She took crappy jobs that she didn’t want just to make ends meet when she was just 18 years old! She wasn’t like you. She didn’t throw away her volleyball scholarships. She gave them up. She sacrificed and lost everything! For me,” she took a dangerous step closer to you, pushing her finger into your chest. “And you! Natasha wanted us to have the best life that mom had always promised us, even if that meant putting her life on hold. And this is how you’re going to repay her for that? You're going to repay her by sneaking around with her girlfriend?!”

“That is not fair, Lena!” you scold her. 

She scoffs, “Not fair? Do you know what’s not fair, Y/N? The money she saved in her savings account all throughout high school quickly drained, because she had to bail you out of jail more than once. You were lucky that Steve’s dad was the sheriff so it never touched a sliver of your record, but Nat still had to pay the fines. It’s not fair that when I was a sophomore in high school, I couldn’t go to any football games or dances because I had to grow up and cover all of your shifts while you were off getting shit faced somewhere else!”

“My mom died-“ you were about to argue.

“So did ours, Y/N!” she screamed at you. “Yet, Natasha and I were picking up the pieces and you kept destroying everything in sight. So, I want you to think about this when you and Wanda tell Natasha all about your relationship tomorrow night, she has given everything she loves up for you and me. Wanda is just going to be one more thing she loses because of you.”

The two of you stayed there in a tense silence, just staring at one another with tear filled eyes. Until the front door swung open. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as your older sister wheeled in her suitcase from her latest business trip. 

A low whistle left her lips as she saw the standoff between the two of you, “Is everything okay?” 

Yelena was first to break her gaze, forcing a smile on her face, something she has gotten far too good at. “Yeah, welcome home, sestra. I’m about to head out to go on a morning run with Kate and Peter, I'll see you guys later.”

“What was that about?” Nat asked as your younger sister left. 

You shrug, “No idea,” you clear your throat, subtly wiping away at your eyes while she starts brewing some coffee. “How was the trip?”

The balcony door creaked open as you lit another cigarette. “Detka? What are you doing?” Wanda’s voice filled the thick air, grabbing the cigarette from your lips and throwing it out. “You haven’t smoked for the last three months, when’d you even get a pack? What happened?”

Your eyes were bloodshot from holding back the tears that you were so desperately trying to keep in. You know what has to happen. 

The drug that is Wanda Maximoff gave you such a high. You were so addicted to the illusions of the love between you and her. A love that never was and never will be. The worst part about any addiction is that it’s so intimate. You become so close with your addictions that leaving them behind is like killing a part of you that taught you how to survive. And all that’s left of you is pain and misery. 

“Y/N, why have you been avoiding me?” Wanda questions, her voice shaking just a little bit. 

You shrug, “You seem a little preoccupied. I didn’t want to intrude,” you look out at the skyline, desperately avoiding her gaze. 

“Oh okay. So this has nothing to do with what we’re going to tell Nat tonight?”

You shook your head, “There’s nothing to tell. There’s nothing going on between us, Wanda. There can’t be anything going on,” you look at her, the tears that you were trying to hold back were falling like droplets of rain against your car window. “You’re my best friend and you’re my sister’s girlfriend. That’s all.”

“You’re not just my best friend, Y/N, and you know it. You can’t pretend like we never happened because it did, it happened. And I don’t regret it, not one bit. I am in love with you, Y/N, and I know what we did wasn’t right, but I can’t help but love you,” she explains to you, trying to wrap her arms around you, but you shake your head once more as you step away from her. 

“This can’t happen. We need to pretend like none of this happened-“ you begged her. You didn’t want to make this harder than it needed to be. 

“We have been sneaking around for months! Even if she doesn’t know it, we have already hurt her! If we tell her together, we are doing right by Natasha. She’s going to be heartbroken and angry, but she’s going to realize one day that this was the right thing to do. She deserves better than someone who’s in love with her sister.” 

There was a silence that followed, as you just continued to stare at her speechless, “I can’t-“ your voice breaks, as you look down at your hands. 

Wanda’s arms wrapped around your waist and you weren’t fighting it anymore. She placed her forehead against yours, her voice pleading, “I’ll fix it please, I’ll do anything. We don’t have to tell Nat until you’re ready, just please don’t do this.” 

“You can’t fix this, Wands. The only person who can fix this is me. You’re right, Nat deserves better, and after all the shit I put her through the last five years, I'm going to give that to her. I’m going to be the sister she should’ve had by her side when our mom died. So that means letting you go,” you whispered, biting your lip to stop the sobs that are trying to escape. “You deserve better than me anyway, Wands. Someone like my sister,” 

You kiss her forehead, before pulling away from her embrace, “I’m sorry,” you whisper to her. 

You avoided her tear stained cheeks and glossy eyes, as you continued to sit out and stare at the city before you. You destroyed everything in sight, but this time you were going to be the one to pick up all the pieces. Suddenly, her gaze wasn’t on you anymore and the balcony door was being slammed shut. 

Your eyes drift to the voices at the front of the house, “Wanda, what happened?” Nat’s voice rings in your ear and you can see them from where you’re sitting. 

“Nothing, it was just too crowded and everything was too overwhelming. I think I just need to go home,” she says and you hate how her tears are because of you. Your older sister wrapped her strong arms around the distressed girl, holding her tighter. 

Fishing out your pack, you lit the small cigarette, enjoying the way it made your head feel. Wanda’s eyes flickered up towards the balcony, noticing the smoke emitting off of it. You let out a sigh, staring at the girl in front of you. All that the two of you were was all you were ever going to be because she always had someone waiting at home.

“C’mon, let’s go home,” Nat whispered to her, intertwining their fingers together, and leading her to the car.

Nicotine doesn't taste the same as Wanda did, but it’ll have to do.

[celeste-i]

were I more talented with this sort of thing id love to make a webweaving post with bs and Toni Morrisons works. specifically how she names her characters (baby suggs, stamp paid, Macon dead) and how that connects with captain flint, miranda barlow, long john silver, jack rackham, max nolastname. and also how Morrison weaves memory in her books in much the same way bs weaves in the concept of storytelling, and how they're much in the same thing. sethe's "rememory" being a separate thing to the mind just as a story is a separate thing to the teller. and also sethe insisting that sweet home and the memory of it exists at all times, that it's always a place in which her children can be sent. the oppression of white America is everpresent just as is the oppression of England (its father). my god I need to do something with this

[nkjemisin]

Hi! (Just to get in front of it, I'm not asking you for anything. I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate your work and I SEE the decolonization in it. I'm definitely also neurodivergent, so forgive me if I over- or under-explain a point.) But I realize this is an Ask Me Anything... egad.

I'm working on a piece about Broken Earth for the Decolonizing the EcoGothic volume of the Gothic Nature Journal, and I just wanted to let you know that I am blown away by the way you tell stories. I was in a Gothic Horror (I'm really not that big of a Gothic literature nerd, I swear!) class while I was in graduate school last year and we read Toni Morrison's Beloved. That was the second time that I read that novel in particular, and the first time I read it I got hung up on Mama Suggs. Her character and her ceremonies in the clearing were very powerful, and I couldn't put a pin in why until I read Broken Earth. Something about the connection between Essun and Alabaster's bodies transforming as a result of their magic use and the utter negation and abuse and colonization of the black body in both stories and historic times of slavery (and the prison industrial complex today, let's be real). Reading Broken Earth helped me understand that. So thank you.

I'm sorry this is turning into a mini essay, but I also wanted to mention another connection I found between the two on my second read (a connection I formed, I'm definitely not trying to say that I know for sure what you were going for because of course there's a lot to the stories) was between that of the characters Nassun and Denver. Near the end of the novel, after Beloved's ghost has all but taken everything from Sethe, Denver begins to step off of the safe porch and enter into the unsafe world alone for the first time to try and find help. She finds herself recalling a conversation that she heard between Baby Suggs and her mother:

“Oh, some of them [white people] do all right by us,” Sethe said. Baby suggs responds,

“And every time it’s a surprise, ain’t it? Don’t box with me. There’s more of us they drowned than there is all of them ever lived from the start of time. Lay down your sword. This ain’t a battle; it’s a rout” (287). Denver then asks the memory of her grandmother what she should do, then. “Know it, and go on out the yard. Go on,” her grandmother responds (288).

What should Denver, or Nassun, do with the knowledge that they will never truly be safe? She has to accept it, but go on anyway. One foot after another, and so on. I felt a bit of this driving Nassun after her father takes her away from their home in Tirimo... and I dunno. You and Toni Morrison both write stories that stick with me, personally, and make me think. And think and think.

Oh I'm also not assuming you've read Beloved, either. I'm sorry! I this is turning into a mess. I think I'll stop there. Just, thank you. For your stories and for your characters and for the story of Syl Anagist. I loved the Inheritance Trilogy also, I'm just very stuck on Broken Earth because of this piece I'm working on. Thank you! Sorry.

No need to apologize! But I can't answer your question because I haven't read Beloved. Read and loved several Morrison novels, but not that one. (I keep meaning to, but my Mount ToBeRead is the size of Everest and growing.) Both books are inspired by the same historical event, and I think because of that, folks who don't know about Margaret Garner reasonably assume I'm riffing on Morrison rather than reality. But nope, the Broken Earth trilogy is just one of several creative works that are in conversation with the Garner tragedy. Any similarities you see probably come from the fact that Morrison and I share a racial and gender identity, and had a similar reaction to realizing just how much our current lives are impacted by hidden historical horrors.

Even if I'd read Beloved, however, I probably wouldn't be able to answer your question. Lit crit is best done by people other than the author, IMO. We're too close to our work to tell you very much about it.

[windshield91]

Fire 7x15 PD 6x15

Jay and Cruz were prominent in this crossover.

"It's not easy investigating a guy everybody thinks is a saint" - Jay Halstead

Kim and Jay being done by the firefighters' unreasonable behaviors. Their interaction was lovely. They'd have made a good partners.

- CFD Liasion Hermann.

- Kelly's office scene: Grissom expressing his sadness and missing Benny. I miss Benny too and beyond angry with Damon's story.

Tony & Capp: It is lame having them make rookie mistakes to show Severide's annoyance with Cruz's absence. They are experienced firefighters, have been on Squad for a long time, and portrayed as Severide's good friends since S01.

Cruz: His know-it-all attitude always irks me but it was unbearable this PD episode. I wished he was exposed as the one who identified Suggs as the suspect to other firefighters so he understands PD decisions better.

"I think it is the right thing to do" - Boden

Cruz accepted Voight's suggestion after asking for Boden's opinion, yet he kept blowing on Voight, Jay and others for following the lead he gave them.

"But just know that there will be other consequences that you won't see coming. You can count on that" - Leon Cruz

His brother seems to have more insight into these situations than him. And his point was proved during the crossover, but Cruz arrogance never made him accepted that.

"What are you doing here?" - Joe Cruz

Seriously, Why Cruz acting like he is the boss of fire and pd. His attitude toward Atwater and Halstead was terrible and unjustified. It is their job to ask these questions.

"You sure you want to do this she is going to give you a hard time." - Cruz

Jay making a nice gesture with Platt's help for the family. But Cruz acting like all happened was his fault.

I think he felt guilty for Suggs's death and projected that on PD by blaming them for damaging his image despite him being the one that identified Suggs as the suspect.

[spacecadet-ticklesinspace]

hello! this is an IronDad prompt if ur interested. Peter and Tony are having their annual movie night except when it gets late Peter doesn't want to sleep. Peter is crawling on the ceiling and doing parkour across the furniture, being super hyper and won't stop moving. so Tony eventually chases Peter around and ends up tickling him to tire him out. could end with Tony carrying the kid to bed.

Bedtime Tricks

Summary: See prompt above ❤️

(Ahh! I love this! ❤️ This made me feel so soft and fluffy! Thank you so much Anoooon! ❤️ Enjoy!)

"Peter, get down!" Tony glared up at the teen crawling across his ceiling. "I don't want to explain to your Aunt May that you got a broken arm by parkouring upside down like a maniac."

The energetic teen whined. "No! You'll make me go to bed!"

"Pete, it's literally one o'clock in the morning."

"It's early!"

"Half the tower is asleep already. Even Bruce, and he's the worst night owl."

Peter turned. "You're one to talk."

There was a brief pause where Tony debated if it would be illegal to strangle the kid with his Iron Man suit. Or atleast yank him down so he wouldn't have to go up there.

Instead, the older mentor stared down his young mentee. "Pete, get down now."

"Please Mr. Stark? Just one more movie before bed?"

Tony shook his head. "We don't negotiate with terrorists."

"Just ex-assassians and super soldiers."

"Atleast they're adult enough to go to bed at a reasonable hour."

"But that's what makes me so awesome. I keep you young by keeping you up late."

While he didn't hate the kid, Tony did want to grab him by the shoulders and give him a couple of good shakes to clear the cobwebs. "Peter, you get one more chance to come down."

With a smirk, the young teen actually jumped down to the floor. "Okay."

Tony let out a breath. "Thank you. Now we can---."

A moment later, Peter was back up on the ceiling.

"Peter Parker!" Tony scolded. "I told you to get down."

"Ihi did!" Peter dropped from the ceiling onto the floor again. "Sehee?"

"Then why did you---?"

The young teen jumped back onto the ceiling once again.

Meanwhile, Tony rubbed his temples. "Get down and stay down."

"Ohh! That's whahat yohou meant," Peter dropped once again down to the floor.

"Yes, that's what I---Forget it, are you going to bed willingly or do I have to---."

Tony swore he blinked and the kid was now back up on the ceiling.

"Peter Benjamin Parker!"

Peter giggled down at the man. "Yohou look eheven shorteher from uhup hehere."

Tony took a deep breath. "Come down from the ceiling and go to bed or you're going to get it."

"Gehet what? Aha grohounding?"

"Peter, get down."

The young teen grinned. "Noho."

Tony felt something inside of him snap. "That's it!"

With the flex of his hand, Tony summoned the gloves of his supersuit into the room and up to the ceiling.

Peter squeaked and tried to scurry away, but he was too slow. One of the gloves snagged the collar of his shirt before he was pulled away from the ceiling. "Nononono!"

The gloves dangled the teen in front of a glaring mentor. "Bed time."

"But I'm not even tired!"

"Okay, what do I need to do to get you to sleep?"

A smile beamed across Peter's face. "Hide and Seek?"

Tony was surprised. He thought the kid would try another movie bargain again or maybe ice cream before bed. Instead, he just wanted a game. Granted, the amount of candy wrappers did indicate a sugar high . . . maybe a few good laps would wear him out enough to actually go to sleep.

In fact, Tony had an even better idea.

He lowered his young mentee to the floor with a smirk. "Alright, here's the deal. We'll play Hide and Seek, but I have a couple rules."

The young teen whined.

Tony held up a hand. "Before you judge, just listen. Rule number one, you have to stay on this floor. There's plenty of places to hide already and I don't want to go all over this place to find you."

Peter nodded.

"Rule number two, I'm the permanent seeker."

"What?"

"You're younger and smaller so you can fit in more places. Plus this was your suggestion so you should do most of the leg work."

"Fiiiine."

"Rule number three, and this one's most important, when I find you---."

"If you find me."

"Ah ah ah, shush. When I find you, I get to tickle you."

The young teen's eyes widened. "Huh?"

"You heard me."

"Why tickling!"

"Cause you love it."

Peter blushed. "No!"

Tony smirked. "Can't lie to me Pete."

"W-well . . . You still have to find me first!"

"Oh I plan to." The older mentor covered his eyes. "You've got ten seconds. One, two . . ."

Peter squealed and scurried away to find a hiding spot. He was going to pick the best spot to win this.

Meanwhile, Tony rolled his eyes as he continued counting. The things this kid put him through, but he was glad to do them. When he reached ten, he uncovered his eyes. "Ready or not, here I come."

As Tony searched, he had to admit the kid chose a good hiding spot. He couldn't find him in the living room, the kitchen, or the guest room. He was tempted to check his room when a stray giggle caught his attention.

The older man stopped to look at a nearby coat closet. Sure enough, a few more giggles slipped out.

Tony smirked as he made his way over to the closet. He heard the giggles inside try to quiet down, but it was too late. The older mentor threw open the door and his mentee tried to scurry between his legs.

"Gotcha!" Tony exclaimed as he grabbed the teen's foot and yanked him back.

"Eek! Wahait!"

Tony pinned his mentee's legs. "Too late."

Before Peter could respond, Tony dug into his sides.

"Ah! Tohonyhy!"

"At leheast yohou've gotten past your Mr. Stark eheraha." The older man's hands crawled up to the teen's ribs. "I should tickle you more often."

Peter blushed bright red at the idea. He was still adjusting to the idea that Mr. Stark knew he liked tickling and that he was willing to tickle him whenever. May did it and occasionally Ned, but he hadn't had a father figure willing to do tickle him since Uncle Ben had passed so it was still a bit of an adjustment.

But he had to admit, it was also kind of fun. Atleast until Mr. Stark reached his ribs.

"SQUEE! NAHAT THEHERE! NAHAT THEHERE!"

"Aww, is someone's ribs ticklish? Are this ribbies just too tickly?"

"NOOOHO!"

Tony finally let him go. "Ahalright, you gotta get more creative with thohose spots if you want toho trick me."

"On it."

The determined look on the young teen's face told Tony he was in for a challenge. "Go for it."

The older mentor returned to the living room and recounted as his mentee scurried off to a new place. When he went to search this time, Tony did struggle to pin point the kid's hiding spot at first. It took a bit of squinting to find one singular set of toes peeking out from under the guest room curtains.

A chuckle escaped Tony's mouth as he moved toward the curtain. To his credit, Peter stayed fairly quiet during this round. He only let out a few quiet giggles as his mentor stepped toward him.

With a quick yank of the curtain, Tony revealed the giggling teen. "Ah-ha!"

Once again, Peter squealed and bolted.

Tony tried to grab him, but the giggling teen slipped past him. "Hey! You're breaking rule number three!"

"Yohou nehever made aha ruhule fohor runnihing!"

Tony ran after him. "You and your loopholes!"

"Juhust dohont mahake thehem!"

Tony growled. "Get back here!"

With his mentor hot on his heels, Peter kept up the chase throughout the different rooms on the floor. He felt victorious out smarting the great Tony Stark! Atleast, he did until he tripped turning the corner.

This allowed Tony the chance he needed to pin the kid to the ground. "Got ya!"

"Wahait! No! Ihi trihipphed!"

"You never made a rule for tripping," Tony replied as he pinned the teen face first on the ground so he could tickle his back.

Peter squeaked. "Yohou made thehe ruhules!"

"Aww, does someone have a ticklish back too?" Tony spidered around his shoulder blades. "Poor kiddo."

"Ihi dohon't wahant yohour sympahathyhy ohold mahahan!"

A smirk crept across the older man's face. "Oh you don't? That's fine with me."

A moment later, Tony leaned forward to blow a raspberry into the nape of Peter's neck.

"NAAAAH!" Peter snorted. "TONY!"

"Wow, thahat was a new sound."

The teen turned to pout at his mentor. "Yohou're mehean."

"Aww. What's wrong kiddo?" Tony ruffled his hair. "Did I put the berries in the wrong spot?"

The teen's eyes bugged out. He immediately squirmed until he was able to wriggle out of Tony's hold. "Catch mehe fihirst!"

Tony grinned as he hurried to his feet. "You're on!"

Peter was a mess of giggles as he ran through the different rooms. This brought back memories of when he was a kid. He could remember the countless times his Aunt and Uncle had chased him around their apartment or Ned had tackled him to the living room floor when he slept over. Now he got to have the experience with Tony.

He just wished the pounding footsteps didn't make him so nervous and excited.

To give him some distance, Peter hurried back into the living room.

And Tony came stomping in. "Fe! Fi! Fo! Fum! I'm going to tickle you little one!"

Peter held out his hand. "Stahay ohover there!"

Tony hurried forward. "But you're over there!"

The young teen moved to the other side of the couch. "Cause Ihim stahaying away frohom yohou!"

Tony shrugged. "Could have accomplished the same thing by going to bed. Yet here we are."

Then before the teen could retort, Tony jumped on to the couch to pull him over. Once he had his mentee on the couch, Tony repinned him. "Now to give you some proper berries."

Peter wrapped his arms around his stomach as nervous giggles bubbled out. "Y-you don't h-hahave tohoo!"

Tony pushed his arms and shirt up. "But I will."

Peter became a cackling mess as Tony blew raspberries into his tummy. He couldn't grab onto his mentor's hair either because Tony had wrapped a hand around his arms so he could hold them in place.

"EEEEEK!" Peter snorted again. "Yohour beHEEEEARD!"

The older man stroked his gotee. "Ticklish?"

"Noho fahahair! You hahave aha weapohon!"

"Don't be jealous kiddo." Tony pinched the teen's cheek. "You'll get your own when you grow up."

Peter playfully bit at Tony's hands.

"Ah! Now I have to use my weapon."

The older man's head returned to blowing the raspberries on Peter's stomach.

"NAAAAAH! NO FAHAIR! NOHO FAIR!"

Tony chuckled which sent goosebumps flaring across the teen's tummy. To add to the ticklishness, Tony intentionally rubbed his beard across the teen's tummy just to make it extra tickly.

"Ehehe-EEE! NAAAAAAAAH! YOU'RE THEHE WOHORST!"

"Ihi know, thank you."

With his stomach free from the raspberries, Peter took the opportunity to stick his tongue out at Mr. Stark.

"Carefuhul, wouldn't want it to get stuck like that."

The young teen whined.

"Look, let's do one more round." Tony unpinned the kid. "If I find you in under two minutes, I get to pick the next tickle spot. If you manage to stay hidden for longer than two minutes, you get to pick the next tickle a pot. Sound good?"

Peter nodded. "You're ohon!"

Tony let the teen go before he covered his eyes again. When he opened them, he caught sight of a foot disappearing behind the couch. The older man smirked, but decided to play along. "JARVIS, set a timer for two minutes."

"Timer is set."

Tony stood and started toward the hallway. "Where are you kiddo?"

The older mentor could still hear the stifled giggles from behind the couch as he moved around. He slowly checked behind a nearby chair, under the coffee table, and deliberately passed by the couch to check the other side of the living room.

When he knew the timer was nearing the end, he made his way to the couch. "Come out, come out wherever you are."

The stifled giggles grew even more as he leaned against the couch. Then he popped his head over. "Hello."

"Ahh!" Peter jumped back.

"Timer has ended."

The young teen groaned. "No fair! I was so close!"

"Welp, rules are rules."

Peter squealed as he was pulled over the back of the couch. "Wahait!"

"No can do." Tony wrapped him in a hug. "Too busy getting your neck."

The older man nuzzled his face into his mentee's neck.

"EEE! TONY!"

"Ihi get toho choose kiddo." Tony rubbed his beard across his neck. "And I'm going to use my secret weapon."

As Tony continued his attack, Peter dissolved into snorts, cackles, and squeals. He looked so much younger and even more precious. When the young teen seemed adequately out of breath, Tony stopped the tickles and just held him close. "Dihid yohou have fun kiddo?"

"Yeheah Dahad."

Both parties tensed as the word settled over them.

"I---I'm so T-Mr. Stark . . . I didn't---I mean I didn't---."

As Peter floundered for his words, Tony felt his heart melt. He pulled the young teen as close as he could before squeezing him tight. "You're welcome son."

Peter buried his face into Tony's chest as he wrapped his arms around him. It was one of the best hugs he had had in a while. "Thank you."

"Anytime kiddo." Tony ran his fingers through the teen's curls. "Anytime."

As Tony kept up the gentle touch, Peter slowly relaxed into his hold. The once hyper teen was now replaced with a snuggly kid who was slowly drifting off to sleep.

Tony chuckled as his kid. "Guess it dihid help you goho to sleep."

Peter didn't respond. His eyes were shut and his breathing slowly evened out.

Ever so carefully, Tony stood with the sleeping teen in his arms. He walked down the hall to the guest room where he carefully tucked his kid in for the night. "Night kid. Don't let the bed bugs bite."

Peter snuffed in response as he curled under the covers. "Love you."

Tony grinned. "Love you too son. See ya in the morning."

The older mentor quietly headed out of the room and clicked off the lights.

[lahija-del-molinero]

...

Tony Suggs

[vibraniumarm06-bucket]

Slay

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

“Uh what does slay mean?” Steve’s voice floats through the living room as he enters eyes attached to his phone. “It’s like in every second comment,” He says as he looks up from the screen to see you and Peter chilling on the couch. 

Peter’s bursting with glee as he tries to contain his laughter and so are you. If only Sam were here to witness this too. But he was currently on a mission with Natasha somewhere in Europe maybe, who knows because you definitely were not listening during the meeting. 

“Geez Grandpa, you trying to get hip?” Clint snarks from the kitchen as he’s pouring a cup of coffee, at this point, you don’t even know if he drinks coffee or poison from how strong he always brews it. 

“In uh what context is it used in?” Peter manages to get out through a fit of giggles which is quite infectious due to his chest moving up and down rapidly causing you to begin to giggle too, even harder when you see the photo that Steve has posted on his social media. He’s wearing his combat gear and is half-turned so the photo is centred on his ass. 

“Tony posted it, something about keeping us relevant or something?” Steve mumbles “Just tell me what the lingo means?” He says as he leans over the couch. 

“What will you give us in return?” You ask with a slight smirk on your face “Ya know Captain, advice doesn’t come free nowadays”. 

“Hmm, I’ll buy you takeout for the next two weeks whenever you both want?”. You look over at Peter and squint your eyes as if you both have to think about this as one of the biggest decisions you would make. You both nod your head and say “Deal” at the same time. 

“What are you idiots agreeing to?” Bucky’s voice fills the room and your heart beats a little faster. You glance over at Clint in the kitchen who has a smug face because he knows of your little crush on the ex-assassin. You roll your eyes and poke your tongue out at Clint. 

“Grandpa Steve wants to know what ‘slay’ means because it’s being commented on his social media post,” Peter says

Bucky’s gaze falls on you laying on top of Peter and for a moment you think you see hurt in his eyes but it’s gone when you take a closer look. 

“It means ‘to do something well’ or ‘you look fresh/on point” Bucky mentions and both you and Peter’s jaws widen in shock. 

“How do you know that?!” You both shriek 

Bucky gives the both of you a pointed look before saying “I spend quite a bit of time with Sam and you Peter”. 

“Thanks, jerk,” Steve says slapping Bucky’s shoulder as he heads out of the common area “See you guys later! Are you coming, Clint? We’re still going to test that thing out for Bruce right?” 

“Yeah, I’m coming,” Clint says reluctantly as he heads out after Steve. 

“Welp there goes our free takeaway,” You say with a soft pout as you look at Bucky. 

“About the social media posts, I do need help with mine because Tony obviously will not help me. I was wondering if you would help me Doll?”. A soft shiver runs through your spine and your stomach flutters at the nickname. You bite your lip lightly “Of course Bucket! I definitely can help you with that!” 

You hold your hand out for his phone and feel Peter begin to move you as Bucky glares at him while you are focused on his phone. Peter slides out from under you on the couch and Bucky takes a seat beside you. 

“Right I’ll see you later Y/N/N! I just remembered I have homework that I need to complete” Peter shouts as he runs out of the common area. You hum after him as you’re looking through Bucky’s photos, of which there are barely any. 

“Uh Buck, how am I supposed to post a photo when there’s barely anything here for me to work with?” You ask turning your head to look at him. He’s already looking at you intensely, his cheeks beginning to turn pink, he rubs the back of his neck nervously. 

“Oh,” You say “I know taking photos can be hard,” You say placing your hand on his left one and squeezing softly with a smile. “How about we take a selfie and we can post that one?” You suggest to which he nods his head. 

“Okay smile!” You say as you hold the phone high enough for both of your faces to fit within the screen. He leans in and pulls you closer to fit the screen better. Your heart beats fasters and you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. You lean into him a little and you notice the smile forming across his face through the screen. 

You capture the picture and smile “Perfect!” You say. “Just like you” Bucky mumbles under his breath. “What shall we caption it?” You ask as your fingers hover over the keyboard. 

Bucky takes the phone from your hands and begins to type something but won’t let you look at it. Your phone buzzes and the screen pops up with a notification saying that you’ve been tagged in a post. You click on it and come to Bucky’s post. You smile at the photo and look at the caption 

‘Nothing better than spending time with my Doll’

You feel your cheeks begin to heat up as you shyly look at Bucky. You fiddle with your fingers as Bucky looks at you intensely, he leans closer and your heart jumps. He chuckles softly, his laugh ignites a sense of happiness within you and you just want to hear that sound again. 

“I like you too Doll,” He says softly glancing down at your lips before looking back into your eyes. You open your mouth but before you can say anything he interrupts “Your heart kinda gives it away with all the beating it does when I’m around” he says.

He cups your cheek and brings your face closer to his. “Can I?” he asks softly and you nod your head fast nearly giving yourself whiplash. “I need words darling,” He says licking his lip and the shiver that runs through you is intense. 

“Yes Bucket, please” You beg softly and he wastes no time in closing the gap between you. His lips feel so soft against yours. His scent overwhelms you in a good way. He pulls away a little too early for your liking and he can tell. 

“I want to do this right, so will you go on a date with me beautiful?” You grip his shirt tightly hoping that this is not just in your imagination. “100 times yes Bucket” You reply. 

His phone buzzes with multiple notifications. One comment was that Steve had commented. 

‘You both slay together’. To which you both crack up laughing. 

A/N: Let me know if you guys have any requests! :)

[virgin-martyr]

Shivering, Denver approached the house, regarding it, as she always did, as a person rather than a structure. A person that wept, sighed, trembled and fell into fits. Her steps and her gaze were the cautious ones of a child approaching a nervous, idle relative (someone dependent but proud). A breastplate of darkness hid all the windows except one. Its dim glow came from Baby Suggs' room.

Toni Morrison, excerpt from Beloved

[notmuchtoconceal]

when i first saw ari aster's modern masterpiece hereditary in theaters, with my mom and grandma -- (overbright, i only realized some months later, when i could enjoy the blu ray in the solitude of my own home. / the film was so bright that you could totally see toni colette in the corner on the ceiling at the end the whole time, then it was a total and complete lol-fest when she backstokes through the air in broad daylight through the door, my two little brothers spent the last ten minutes laughing, and all the fuckin naked people didn't help --- yet, somehow, not even they could ruin it. the ending still reeled across my eyes, more real in its pharonic phantasmagoria than any waking sight could dream)

-- well, my grandmother, connoisseur of the meat market of the screen that she was, only had to say that it was a rosemary's baby rip-off, and she could leave it at that, but oh, she could not, oh she could not.

rosemary's baby is, of course, an excellent film. one of that old child rapist polanski's best. (you should see the one where he gets possessed by an old lady ghost and jumps out the window of his apartment in drag).

it painstakingly, and with diamond-cut precision lays out all the mechanisms by which bright, educated, modern women are slowly stripped of their agency and disempowered by the softly coercive pressures of participating in a patriarchal capitalist marketplace.

the poor young lady, under the cover of sacrificing for her husband's career and playing friendly with her eccentric neighbors, is groomed by witches, inducted into a cult, raped by satan and forced to bare his child, then isolated over the course of months, fed poison, and finds out the hard way that all the systems put in place to protect her are rigged against her because when she tells the truth about all the ways she was brainwashed and betrayed, the legitimate authorities think she's a lunatic and return her to her abusers, because they are all complicit in the sin of the grand illusion, cause they all want the right to live out their demon worship brainwashing and hypnotic altar installation kinks with loved ones -- covertly -- because that's not the sort of thing you can just bring up at breakfast one day. hey babe, u ever hear a MK ultra sex slaves?

hereditary, by contrast, exposes the cult of king paimon.

King Paimon is a Real Demon in That He Represents A Force In Our Lives. A Demon Is A Symptomology by Personification.

When We Understand How King Paimon Manifests, We Can Understand His Motives. Perhaps you know people in your own life who have been known by King Paimon and Hurt and Ache to Dance With Him.

the film Hereditary, depicts three generations of the --

King Paimon showed me the Camel Raiment Was of the Messiah For He Rode Atop a Dromedary. King Paimon Instructed Me to Offer Him Warm Honey Mixed with Lemon and Ice Water. It soothed, and was sweet and rich in vitamins and antioxidants. When I thought of the Locusts, I thought of Apollo in His Capacity as Plague Bearer. I Knew Him As The Eater of My Corruptions, and let him Feast Upon My Body.

King Paimon Showed Me -- How to Lead The Beast of the Raiment Through the Eye of the Needle and Bypass the End of the World.

the film Hereditary depicts three generations of Graham family women being decapitated -- the grandmother, Ellen, the mother Annie, and the daughter Charlie. The first post-joyously, after excavation by her coven, the second ultimately, in a state of total possession while staring her own son in the eye as she cuts through her trachea with piano wire, and the third, the youngest, famously against a telephone pole at high velocity while suffering from a throat constriction induced by a peanut allergy.

most commentators on the film will point out that nothing in the extant goetic lore would suggest in any way that King Paimon prefers decapitation as a form of offering. This is true. Rather, decapitation is revelatory of a more general ritual function which the film is suggesting, which a commentator -- by his very nature would not think to suggest -- that is, the way in which decapitation is, in its most literal sense, a form of transformation induced by a separation from the head.

Consider Argos, the Hundred-Eyed Watchman Who Was Hera's Personal Guard. Think of How He Heard The Splendid Tales of Hermes and Ran From Him Through Fields Dreaming All The While He Saw What Things He Saw By Right Instruction Was Shown The Steps to Strut the Peacock.

something in the grandmother went into the mother, then went into the daughter from the grandmother, but was ultimately able to nestle in the son, for how the son was prepped by what he received of her from his mother :-- the resistance. the failure. the hesitation. the doubt. a slow motion struggle, fated to collapse, for she was engulfed from the start. passed down as a slow burn offering. a reduction of one's own wheat to chaff, then incineration by half-intention, for you knew so little, and had so little of a choice, yet now you know, and knowing may battle?

We Have Corrected Your First False Female Form.

King Paimon was always Charlie. Charlie was dead from birth.

Charlie was dead and inside him, looking out, not wondering, but being, and all was and all was always good -- the doves heads, the totem poles.

Annie was Not Paimon. Not until the end. Not until she Invited Charlie into Herself. The mother taking on the Pain of The Daughter, and yet -- oh look, engulfed. It was the Pain of Her Mother, Eating Her. Eating Her, Her Own Daughter. You Fed Her To Her, Annie. You Fed Her Yourself.

She wanted Peter. You didn't give him. You gave her Charlie, then she Got them Both. She Got You and You Burned Your Husband Alive.

Mother always wins, my dear. Mother had everything she wanted all along, but the only thing she ever wanted.

Grand-mama, you see, was Paimon From The Start.

In dire need of correction, what needed it most, was she herself --

The First False Female Form.

[goalhofer]

2024 Minnesota Twins Roster

Pitchers

#16 Steven Okert (Rowlett, Texas)*

#17 John Ober (Huntersville, North Carolina)

#20 Chris Paddack (Cedar Park, Texas)

#22 James Jax (Greenwood Village, Colorado)

#32 Randy Jackson (Greenville, South Carolina)*

#37 Louie Varland (St. Paul, Minnesota)

#41 Joe Ryan (San Anselmo, California)

#44 Bryson Sands (Tallahassee, Florida)

#48 Justin Topa (Binghamton, New York)

#49 Pablo López (Cabimas, Venezuela)

#54 Daniel Duarte (Huatabampo, Mexico)*

#55 Kody Funderburk (Mesa, Arizona)

#56 Caleb Thielbar (Randolph, Minnesota)

#57 Zach Weiss (Irvine, California)*

#59 Jhoan Durán (Esperanza, Dominican Republic)

#61 Brock Stewart (Normal, Illinois)

#63 Josh Staumont (La Habra, California)*

#66 Jorge Alcalá (Bajos De Haina, Dominican Republic)

#74 Josh Winder (Chesterfield County, Virginia)

Catchers

#8 Christian Vázquez (Ciudad Bayamón, Puerto Rico)

#27 Ryan Jeffers (Raleigh, North Carolina)

Infielders

#4 Carlos Correa; Jr. (Boca Velázquez, Puerto Rico)

#12 James Farmer (Atlanta, Georgia)

#19 Alex Kirilloff (Plum, Pennsylvania)

#23 Royce Lewis (San Juan Capistrano, California)

#30 Carlos Santana (Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic)*

#47 Edouard Julien (Quebec, Quebec)

#82 Austin Martin (DeLand, Florida)**

Outfielders

#13 Manuel Margot (San Cristóbal, Dominican Republic)*

#25 Byron Buxton (Baxley, Georgia)

#26 Max Kepler-Różycki (Berlin, Germany)

#38 Matt Wallner (Forest Lake, Minnesota)

#50 Willi Castro (San Juan, Puerto Rico)

Coaches

Manager Rocco Baldelli (Woonsocket, Rhode Island)

Bench coach Jayce Tingler (Smithville, Missouri)

Hitting coach Rodolfo Hernández (Turmero, Venezuela)

Assistant hitting coach Derek Shomon (Springfield, Illinois)

Assistant hitting coach David Popkins (San Diego, California)

Pitching coach Pete Maki (Woodbury, Connecticut)

Assistant pitching coach Luis Ramirez (Valencia, Venezuela)

Bullpen coach Logan Suggs (Sulphur Springs, Texas)

Bullpen catcher Anderson De La Rosa (Barquisimeto, Venezuela)

Bullpen catcher Connor Olson (St. Paul, Minnesota)

1B/catching coach Hyun Conger (Huntington Beach, California)

3B coach Tommy Watkins; Jr. (Ft. Myers, Florida)

Assistant coach Nate Dammann (Raymond, Minnesota)

Assistant coach Tony Diaz (Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic)

[celeste-i]

making Miranda's house in the Sims and it is so utterly depressing it's no wonder why she was the way she was. reminds me of in beloved by Toni Morrison, at the end of baby suggs life she was desperate for color and always wanted flowers and colorful fabrics. and sethe tried to oblige but didn't really understand. and then when she discovered who beloved was, she was lifted out of her depression and saw for the first time how drab and grey everything was ("what thrift and modesty allowed") and then filled the house full of color in a manic frenzy. interesting

[gardenofyv]

Blog Assignment #5

Adapted from the novel “Beloved” by Toni Morrison and directed by Jonathan Demme, the time period piece Beloved (1998) follows the story of a Black mother named Sethe who is haunted by the horrors of her past as a slave and her desperate pursuits of freedom for both her and her children. Being familiar with Toni Morrison’s work but not having yet read the original book version, I expected it was going to be extremely heavy in content; I expected to be uncomfortable. But in all honesty, nothing could have prepared me for the emotional rollercoaster this film took me on. With a run time of nearly three hours, Beloved (1998) is as beautiful as it is triggering, plunging into themes of slavery, generational trauma, but most importantly, the sacrifice of Black mothers and the pain held in Black women’s bodies. 

The film itself springs from the insecurity of a mother under the institution of slavery. Much of the hardships specific to Sethe’s (or rather any Black slave woman) journey stem from the combination of slavery and corporatized sexual assault. We see this very early on in the film with violent flashbacks to a pregnant Sethe being held down while White slave owners “take her milk”, and again when she is whipped for speaking this truth. It immediately sets the tone and reminds the audience that under this system, Black women and mothers have no right to their own body, their children, or their lives. It conveys a sense of powerlessness and desperation in their reality to the extent that if they cannot protect themselves, they will do whatever is necessary to provide their children a chance at a life free from their struggles. So much so that mothers, such as Sethe, would rather kill their own children, than allow them to be taken into slavery, or in Sethe’s words, “hell here on Earth”.

To exemplify, when Paul D is made aware of the news report about Sethe trying to murder her children, there’s an exchange between them that powerfully communicates the position Black mothers are put in when it comes to protecting their children. 

“Sometimes, I hear my boys laughing and laughing… First I get scared… scared someone might hear ‘em and get mad. Then I remember that if they laugh that hard till it hurt, that’d be the only hurt they have all day.”

“[It’s] Dangerous to love any one thing that much… Your love is too thick, Sethe… You got two feet, Sethe, not four.”

Here we are walked through the events that led Sethe and her children to where they are today. All the other characters see Sethe as inhumane- even animalistic- for attempting to murder all her children, blaming her love being too thick to resort to something so extreme. Yet Sethe’s rationale is not entirely shocking as her sole purpose as a mother is to save her children from even the possibility of going through an ounce of what she did at Sweet Home. Rather, it demonstrates a mother’s willingness to hold the agony of losing her children and withstanding the social stigma of being a murderer if it means saving them from a lifetime of suffering. That in itself makes her character incredibly powerful in her conviction to protect her children.

At the same time, this movie portrays the consequential pain and trauma that is trapped in the bodies of everyone, but especially the women. For instance, when we witness Sethe’s trek from Kentucky to Ohio, feet so swollen she can barely stand, nine months pregnant, alone in the woods, we as the audience feel like we’re able to empathize with her better taking this journey with her. But at the same time, we can never fully know her pain. Not just Sethe but Baby Suggs, Denver, even Beloved, are all intrinsically connected through their generational acts of self-preservation and survival.  Overall, both Morrison's story and Akosua Busia’s screenwriting capture real heartbreak. Even though as the audience we know we’re watching a fictional story, it doesn’t feel like a fiction. It leans into realistic racialized violence as horror and unapologetically shows us what trauma looks like. It captures the feeling of being enslaved and the impact of slavery on this family, of which they never truly recover from. More than anything else, it brings to the forefront the struggles of the Black female experience and the sacrifices of Black mothers.

[johnhardinsawyer]

This Here Spirit

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

7 / 16 / 23 – Seventh Sunday after Pentecost / Proper 10

Romans 8:1-11

Genesis 25:19-34

“This Here Spirit”

(And This Here Flesh)

There is a beautiful book by Cole Arthur Riley that came out last year.  The book is called This Here Flesh and it is a spiritual autobiography in which Riley, who is a young black woman from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, tells her story through the lens of her family, her faith, her body (which is immunocompromised),[1] and her journey of learning to love herself.

The title, This Here Flesh is based on a scene from Toni Morrison’s literary masterpiece (and sometimes, banned book), Beloved, in which a character named Baby Suggs preaches a sermon to a congregation of traumatized formerly-enslaved people.  She tells them that they need to learn to love themselves because other people will not.  Baby Suggs says,

“Here, in this here place, we flesh; flesh that weeps, laughs, flesh that dances on bare feet in grass.  Love it.  Love it hard.  Yonder they do not love your flesh.  They despise it.  They don’t love your eyes. . .  No more do they love the skin on your back. . .  And O my people they do not love your hands. . .  No, they don’t love your mouth.  You got to love it. . . And O my people, out yonder, hear me, they do not love your neck unnoosed and straight.  So love your neck. . .”   She goes on from there. . . and closes by saying, “Love your heart.  For this is the prize.”[2]

Of course Baby Suggs is speaking to people who do not, exactly, look like most of us or share our life’s experience.  But so many people wrestle with the challenges of being in the flesh and not being able to love the flesh they’re in.  Maybe they are told – implicitly or explicitly – that their flesh is unlovable because of the color of their skin, or because they are trans, or because they don’t have flesh that “conforms with the norms” that our abnormal society places on people.  Or maybe they have never loved their own flesh because they have been taught that it is not good enough, or pretty enough, or skinny enough, or healthy enough.

This goes deeper than body image, though, or what we see when we look in the mirror.  Over the centuries, there has been this prevailing view – at least in Western culture and in the church – that the flesh is somehow bad (sinful) and the spirit (or soul) is good.  But, as Cole Arthur Riley writes,

We are remarkably material beings.  When we speak of bearing the image of God, I believe no small part of that is a physical bearing.  You may have heard it said, “You don’t have a soul.  You are a soul.  You have a body.”  I’m not sure exactly where this notion came from, but the sentiment survives.[3]  

On the surface, we actually see this sentiment at work in today’s first reading from Paul’s Letter to the Romans.  Paul sets up a pretty stark contrast between life in the sinful flesh that is condemned to death and life in the Spirit that is set free from sin and death.  As Paul says, “Anyone who does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him.  But if Christ is in you, though the body is dead because of sin, the Spirit is life because of righteousness.”  (Romans 8:9b-10). To simplify this message, some people might interpret it to mean, “Body bad.  Spirit good.”

I think that a lot of people find the contrast or division between body and spirit to be, somehow, easier to categorize and explain and therefore, understand.  You and I are always trying to simplify the world’s complexities so that we can try to understand the world.  And so, we – or people we know – have said, “Well, I am sinful, and a lot of my sinfulness is borne out in the weakness of my body in that it feels hunger, and pain, and sickness.  Oh, and my body is mortal:  it will stop working someday, which can’t be good.  Also, I am tempted to sin because of the appetites that my body has for things like food and drink, pleasure and intimacy, and my appetites can get all out of whack and start to rule the rest of my life, so this must mean that my weak, fallible, human body –with all of its appetites – is bad.  Oh, but my spirit – my soul – is something that is spiritual.  It finds its source in God and God isn’t bad, so. . .”  Body bad.  Spirit good.

This “body bad/spirit good” message has been amplified by so many throughout the centuries – from certain interpretations of Paul, to St. Augustine, to the leaders of umpteen Bible studies on sexual abstinence for teenagers when I was growing up.  For the record, I think Paul’s whole body/spirit dichotomy is a lot more nuanced than most people give Paul credit for being – and we’ll come back to this idea in a minute.  Cole Arthur Riley refutes the strict body bad/spirit good dualism. In thinking about how God became human, she writes,

Many of us, in pursuit of the spiritual, become woefully neglectful of the physical.  We concern ourselves with a doctrine of salvation that is oriented around one underlying hope: heaven.  And our concepts of heaven are often disembodied – a spiritual goal to transcend the material world eternally. . .  I don’t know much about heaven, but I have no reason to believe it won’t be made right here.  Our tales of Christian escapism lead us to the place where the physical is damned and the immaterial is glorified.  Where the only holy things are invisible.  [But] how could you expect me to believe this when I’ve met a God who drank from the breast of his creation?[4]

To put it another way, body and spirit are a lot more connected than we might think – intertwined, because, in the incarnation – when God became human in the birth of Jesus – body and Spirit were intertwined.  Connected.  Not separated. . .  They still are connected – always have been, always will be.  But what does this look like in the world as we see it and know it?  It might sound strange for me to say that today’s story from Genesis – the story of Jacob and Esau – contains a good mixture of flesh and Spirit for us to examine.  

The story of Jacob and Esau is a story of fleshy human struggle, discord, and appetites (both literal and figurative appetites), and yet the Spirit is somehow present and at work through it all.  We see the Spirit opening Rebekah’s womb after Isaac prays to God that they might have a child.  And we see God blessing Isaac and Rebekah doubly with the birth of not just one, but two sons.  The Bible also gives us the fleshy details of how the two twins struggle with one another in the womb, causing Rebekah great discomfort in her pregnancy.  She actually prays, “If it is to be this way, Lord, why do I live?” (Genesis 25:22). She’s not the first – or last – pregnant woman to pray such a prayer.  According to the story, the message she gets back from God is that,

“Two nations are in your womb, and two peoples born of you shall be divided; the one shall be stronger than the other, the elder shall serve the younger.”  (25:23)

Already, we see that there is going to be some trouble, here.

The Bible does not give us any of the fleshy details of the birth, except to say that Esau is red and hairy and that Jacob literally comes out of his mother’s womb holding his twin brother’s heel.  In the original language, the name Jacob means “one closely following” or “supplanter.”[5]  By the way, to “supplant” someone means “to supersede another by force or treachery.”[6]  Names can be oh, so powerful!  I know someone who named his son “Justice,” and you know what – that kid is pretty awesome and not afraid to stand up for. . . you guessed it:  justice.  Call someone “Justice” or “Peace” or “Mercy” enough and they might just live up to the name.  But to call someone “Supplanter” their whole life would be kind of like naming a child, “Thief” or “Dishonest.”  We see Jacob, the heel-grabbing supplanter, living up to his name in today’s story.  You see, Esau is born first, which entitles him to all of his father Isaac’s wealth.  Everything that Isaac (an only child) has inherited from his wealthy father Abraham should go to Esau.  But Jacob – through being treacherously sneaky – takes his brother’s birthright.  

In this story, we see the fleshy hunger and impatience of Esau.  We also see the fleshy heel-grabbing sneakiness of Jacob.  “I’m so hungry that I’m about to die,” Esau says.  “Well if you’re that hungry, give me your birthright because, right now, I’m not entitled to inherit anything,” Jacob says.  First of all, while Esau is likely very hungry, chances are, he’s exaggerating a bit when it comes to being about to die.  And second, are we supposed to admire Jacob for being so sneaky?  I must admit that when I heard this story as a child, I kind of liked the fact that Jacob tricks his dumb older brother, especially in the story from Genesis 27 and 28 of how Jacob gets his father Isaac‘s blessing by taking advantage of Isaac‘s blindness.  Some might say that Jacob is being shrewd here – making smart moves in order to get ahead which could, somehow, be all part of God’s plan.  But is the Spirit of God really at work through treachery and deceit?  Is this what we are to glean from today’s story?  

I do know some people who read stories like this from the Hebrew Bible, and use them as examples to say, “Well, the appetites of Esau and the cleverness of Jacob are all part of God’s plan.”  Or they might say something like, “Stories like this reveal the some of the reasons why human beings need Jesus.”

It is clear to me in the reading of these old stories that the Spirit of God is somehow at work – growing and preserving God’s chosen people over the generations.  But if we follow the lineage of Jacob all the way through the Hebrew Bible and into the New Testament, God sure takes a circuitous route to bring Jesus into the world.  There has to be some of the Holy Spirit at work through the fleshy family of Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, and all who come after them.  Like every family tree, there are going to be some branches that just don’t grow right – folks who don’t live up to God’s high expectations.  The Bible is filled with stories of people like this – stories of some who are even condemned for how they act, how they treat others, who or what they worship.  

And yet, as I have said before, God still somehow chooses to work through people who are living in this here flesh – just like the flesh we are living in.  What makes the difference – no matter what our flesh may be like – is that just as we are living in the flesh, we have been given the Spirit of God, who lives in us.  The good news is that God still chooses to work through this here flesh by the power of this here Spirit – the Spirit that is alive and among us, within and around us:  leading us to faith, calling us to faithfulness, inspiring good works, and giving us the very ability to love as God loves, and mercifully forgiving us when we fall short – which we always do, and yet God, in Jesus Christ, is always merciful.  

As Paul writes, even though our flesh is so fragile and fallible, so sinful and sneaky, there is no condemnation because the Holy Spirit dwells within us.  We are no longer in the flesh – or rather, ruled by the flesh.  There is something far more powerful than us at work.  Will we sin and stumble?  Yes.  We are still human.  But God is merciful – there is no condemnation – because the love of Jesus is more powerful than human sin, and the Holy Spirit gives us life – right here, and now.

Maybe this is part of what Cole Arthur Riley means when she writes, “I don’t know much about heaven, but I have no reason to believe it won’t be made right here.” [7]  Or, as Jesus teaches us to pray, “thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” . . . in this here flesh, by this here Spirit.  Or, as Paul writes – beautifully blurring the flesh/spirit dividing line –  “[the One] who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also through the Spirit that dwells in you.” (Romans 8:11)

God’s Spirit dwells in the flesh – in this here flesh. . . in your flesh and mine – giving life to our mortal bodies. . . on earth as it is in heaven.  Remember this the next time you look in the mirror and are tempted see the flesh that you don’t like instead of the Spirit that dwells in you.  Remember this the next time you see or hear about the flesh and spirit of another person not being loved or honored as the humble, but beloved, vessel of God’s Spirit that they are.  Remember the and embrace Spirit that dwells in you and do not be afraid of the flesh you’re living in.  

In the beginning, God made you and called you good.  God so loves you – and your flesh – that the Spirit has come to stay, and bless, and grant you life in your mortal body.  On earth as it is in heaven.  Thanks be to God.  

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

-----------

[1] Cole Arthur Riley, This Here Flesh (New York: Penguin Random House LLC, 2022) viii.

[2] Toni Morrison, Beloved (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, Inc, 1987) 88-89.

[3] Cole Arthur Riley, 57.

[4] Cole Arthur Riley, 57-58.

[5] F. Brown, S. Driver, and C. Briggs, The Brown-Driver-Briggs Hebrew and English Lexicon (Peabody: Hendrickson Publishers, Inc., 1997) 784-785.

[6] Webster’s Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary (Springfield: Merriam Webster, Inc., 1988) 1185.

[7] Cole Arthur Riley, 57-58.

[dykeferatu]

i think my list will be controversial among alvin and the chipmunk heads. here it is:

1. the original - no-brainer. as with almost every children's movie franchise, the sequels never match up to the first one. not that it's a great movie to begin with, it's a pretty standard kids movie for the time, but i'm really only trying to compare the films to each other here.

2. the road chip - i don't care what anyone says, this is the best follow-up. there was a 5 year gap between this and the last movie and i think it really benefitted from the break. they couldn't rely on the momentum of the previous films so they had to make things at least a little more original and that really benefited it. also the chipmunks getting on the no-fly list is one of the funniest bits the series has. it's so stupid. really i think the sheer ridiculousness throughout is what elevates this one. tony hale puts his whole pussy into playing agent suggs and honestly carries. this guy's life gets fucking ruined by these stupid rats it's insane. also i think the ending where it turns out dave is Not proposing because they're too early in the relationship is probably the best message out of all of the movies genuinely.

3. the squeakquel - this one's just fine. the only notable thing is the introduction of the chipettes. the high school setting isn't interesting. yeah i really don't have much to say about this one.

4. chipwrecked - i'll die on this hill. all of you are fucking wrong about this being the best one. it sucks. i don't think i watched this one when i was a kid (and honestly i barely remember watching the squekquel + by the time road chip came out i wasn't even the target audience anymore) so i don't have any nostalgia to carry my enjoyment. this was the only movie where we (me & my friend that decided we had to watch all of the chipmunk movies) genuinely wanted to turn it off because it was actually painful. not even so-bad-it's-good. just painful. basically the only good parts are ones with ian and there aren't very many. also watching the chipmunk romance is just extremely uncomfortable. BAD SEQUEL

does anyone want to hear about my alvin and the chipmunks movie rankings

[virgin-martyr]

In the silence that followed, Baby Suggs, holy, offered up to them her great big heart.

Toni Morrison, excerpt from Beloved