#and they just keep the kid locked in the attic to not bring shame on the family

[kradogsrats]

imo the only good treatment of half-elves ever was the Dragon Age “all human-elf offspring only ever have human physical traits,” which tied in with the setting themes of colonialism and cultural genocide through forced assimilation, and then even they eventually walked that back like a bunch of chumps because they wanted to give a single human character some milquetoast angst about having slightly pointy ears

like my problem with this entire concept, if human/elf offspring exhibit both human and elven physical traits, is either a) the entire setting needs to vastly ratchet back the general human-elf animosity from what has been shown, or b) shit gets REAL dark, REAL fast, in the “babies with the wrong number of fingers are drowned or left to die of exposure at birth” direction, which is also wildly inconsistent with the setting’s values, or c) some secret third thing, I guess, like “elf/human offspring are themselves sterile so the genetics can’t persist across generations” or other weird bullshit that explains why this is a thing that happens but we never see

[itsthemysterykids]

Wybie Addams AU

So what if Wybie was adopted by Morticia and Gomez Addams when he was like two? That would explain why he wears so much black, and doesn’t mind the cat bringing him dead stuff

Morticia and Gomez claimed he “stood out” to them when they arrived at the orphanage.

Morticia: I remember that day. Young Wyborne had another boy in a chokehold and cut the head off of a doll.

Gomez: Our little monster.

He got along pretty well with Wednesday. They often play “Funeral” in the backyard. Wybie loves playing the corpse

Wybie: How long was I underground for?

Wednesday: An hour and fourteen minutes. New record.

Pugsley loves having a brother. He finally has someone to test his new guillotine on

Wybie: *Stops the blade before it slices his head off* If you’re going to chop my head off, at least make sure the blade is sharp... And clean.

Every morning, Wybie likes to torment Fester in his sleep

Fester: I caught Wybie putting cyanide pills in my drink.

Morticia: Wybie, what did we say about poisoning people?

Wybie: *Sighs* Use snake venom for quicker effects.

The teachers and students are absolutely terrified of the Addams kids. They try to explain why, but Morticia and Gomez don’t see the problem

Teacher: He gave one of the other students a doll that looked like her.

Gomez: Oh yes, he found it in the attic. I could’ve sworn it had brown hair, though.

Morticia: Oh, that was my aunt Beldam’s doll. She used it to spy on children who weren’t happy at home.

Later

Coraline: Your freaky doll almsot got me killed by a witch!

Wybie: Oh, that’s my aunt. And she wasn’t gonna kill you. She was just going to keep your soul trapped with her for eternity.

Coraline: ...

He has a crush on Coraline

Wybie: Dad, there’s a girl at school.

Gomez: What about her, my little undertaker?

Wybie: I want to burn for her. I want to kill whoever she tells me to. I want us to be locked in an Iron Maiden together.

Gomez: Morticia! Wyborne is in love!

Coraline finds him weird and insane, but still likes hanging out with him. Mel and Charlie are a little wary around him, but are to terrified to say anything

Wybie: Due to lack of medical science, people were often buried alive if they were believed to be dead. Sometimes grave robbers found scratch marks inside the casket.

Mel: *Backing away* All I asked was if you were in any clubs at school.

When Wybie invites Coraline to stay at his house for the night, she immediately says yes. She wants to see where this guy lives

Coraline: Why do you have a graveyard?

Wybie: It’s mostly for census takers, mailmen, and door-to-door religious people trying to convert us.

Wednesday and Pugsley don’t think Coraline is good enough for their brother, so they put her through a series of tests. How does she react to a venomous spider in her hair? Can she dodge land mines?

When summer comes around and Coraline invites Wybie to come with her to a summer camp, he’s hesitant

Wybie: You expect me to go to some sunshine camp where everyone’s smiling, laughing, getting tans, and spraying poor innocent mosquitoes away?

Coraline: It’s in Gravity Falls~

Wybie: ... The town with a carnivorous lake monster and the Hide Behind? *Coraline nods* ... I’m taking my parasol. I don’t want the sun touching me.

When they arrived, Dipper and Mabel were convinced Wybie was a zombie or vampire.

Norman thought he seemed cool

Norman: So, what’s your family like?

Wybie: They’re alright. Most of them are undertakers, the others are escaped mental patients. There’s a few sword fighters, arsonists, your occasional lunatics and black widows.

Norman: ... My family likes watching baseball.

Wybie: Cool. Can anyone else in your family see ghosts, or is it just you?

Lili and Raz were a little suspicious of him, especially when they discovered his last name. So, they decided to read his mind, and instantly regretted it

Raz: ... I... I wanna go to bed.

Lili: We can never do that again.

Dipper is still trying to figure out if he’s some sort of anomaly, so he and Mabel look through the journals.

Dipper: He’s not a vampire, or zombie. I don’t think he’s a shapeshifter.

Wybie: *Appears out of nowhere* Look on page 86.

Dipper: ... *Flips to page 86 and finds a detailed history on the Addams family*

Mabel: Your family keeps severed limbs as pets?!

Wybie: Well they’re much more cleaner than pigs.

And with Neil...

Neil: Why are you always dressed like someone died?

Wybie: Well, you never know when one might.

Neil: ... Makes sense.

Cue Weirdmageddon!

Wybie: This day is becoming most disruptive.

He invited the Mystery Kids over to the Addams Mansion once, here’s how it went.

Dipper was burried alive

Mabel woke up on the roof of the house

Raz was surrounded by fire

Lili was nearly eaten by either a large dog or a small bear

Neil was nearly blown up by a landmine

And Norman actually made it out

Wednesday: I actually like this friend of yours’. It’s a shame he never raised an army of the dead to do his bidding, though.

Wybie: I keep trying to convince him... Wanna play Funeral?

Wednesday: I vote Dipper for the corpse.

[random-imagines-blog]

Losing Touch (Bill Skarsgard x Reader)

Requested by: @skarsgardandredmayne​ Wordcount: 2228 Summary: You and your boyfriend Bill both attend Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, though he starts to act weird at your close relationship with the telepathic professor himself.

Being at a normal school was tough enough, but a school filled with mutants? There was no way to keep anything a secret, not with people who can turn invisible, telepaths, empaths, there was even one kid who could make you spill your secrets if he brushed past you. So when your boyfriend, Bill, started to act jealously towards you and your favorite professor, the whole school knew about it by the end of the school day. Word got around quickly about how Bill had dragged you to sit at the back of the classroom when Professor Xavier wheeled himself into the room, about to teach his lessons. And how he had hovered at the doorway when you had stopped to talk to him before leaving class. There was a definite look of unease on his face as he held your hand and marched with you to your next classroom, leaving you there with an annoyed expression as he stormed off, saying that ‘he needed some space for a couple of hours’ and disappeared outside.

“What’s going on with him?” Your best friend asked, leaning over as you sat beside her.

“He’s just being a stupid, insecure boy.” You said, taking your notebooks out and dropped them loudly onto your desk. His mood affected your mood - and it wasn’t just because of his powers. See, Bill had the ability to alter people’s emotions, and he still wasn’t quite in control of it. That’s how you knew that he was being jealous and insecure - because it had rubbed off on you. “As if he ever has anything to worry about it.”

“Right?” Your friend agreed with you. “When men realize that unfounded jealousy isn’t cute, well, that will be an amazing day.”

You nodded in agreement, and decided to give Bill not another thought until later tonight, after dinner. You would go to his room and explain to him that there was nothing to be upset about, and just hoped that he would believe you. Though plenty of people had told you it was the other way around, it was you who felt lucky to be with him. Losing him to something as petty and stupid as this was just heartbreaking. You straightened up your shoulders and half-listened to your professor, thinking about how you would do your best to resist his powers if he got angry with you, and stay calm no matter what.

-

When it was dinner time, and everyone was in the dining quarters eating what Professor McCoy had prepared for the evening, you stared blankly at your mac and cheese in thought. Bill was sitting at a different table, with his back to you, probably on purpose. The fact that he didn’t even give you a chance to explain anything hurt a lot more than his anger at this moment. There wasn’t even a confrontation - he was just angry.

‘Are you alright?’ You heard a familiar voice in your head. Even when he was communicating telepathically, Charles sounded posh and smooth. You heard him snort over at the staff table as you thought that. ‘I’m not posh.’ You rolled your eyes although he couldn’t see you. ‘Alright, alright. Why don’t you swing by my office after you eat? I have some of those little marshmallows you like to put in your cocoa.’

‘I’ll bring the mugs’ you thought, thinking that some time with Charles was exactly what you needed. He always gave the best advice, and you generally tended to listen to it.

An hour later, you had a mug of hot cocoa, complete with little colored marshmallows, keeping your hands warm as you stretched out on the sofa in Charles’s office. It was a relic from the old times, before he was shot. You used to love laying out on it when you used to come and visit. It was a shame that he wouldn’t be able to comfortably sit on it, with his arm around your shoulder, like the old days. Rather, he stayed in his wheelchair, parked by one of the armrests, his own cup of cocoa steaming away.

“So you haven’t told him that I’m your cousin yet,” He said, looking perplexed. “And he thinks that there’s something going on between us?”

“That’s what I’m getting from how he’s acting,” You said, taking a sip of your drink. “I mean, it’s never really come up in conversation. He’s talked about his brothers before, but we’ve never really gotten into the family conversation.”

“Then I suggest that you tell him as soon as possible.”

“You don’t think I should wait to see if he trusts me?” You asked, bringing up the other option that was on your mind. “I mean, yeah, you’re my cousin and we’re obviously not being inappropriate with each other. He has no reason to be jealous, even if you weren’t. I haven’t done anything.”

Charles rubbed his chin as he thought that over. “I think that if you want to make things right, you have to meet him halfway. Tell him. Then you can ask him about his jealousy problems.”

“Can’t you just get into his head and tell me what the right thing to say is?” You groaned, throwing your head back dramatically. “What’s the use of having a telepath in the family if he can’t even help me with my relationship problems?”

“Hey, I’ve helped before,” Charles piped up. “Remember when I told you that the neighbor boy had a thing for you?”

“You didn’t have to read minds to see that, genius. He turned out to be a stalker. Even the police knew that he had a thing for me.”

“Well, I didn’t think that he would get that bad,” Charles scratched the back of his neck. You laughed, and waved it off. It was in the past, and your powers had come in handy to get rid of him. Besides - you had a boyfriend now who you really did adore, and really should go and see. You sighed and got to your feet.

“Any wise words before I go, oh great one?” You asked, setting your empty mug down on the table. You were too preoccupied to think about carrying it back to the kitchen this late.

“Just tell him the truth, and listen to him. He probably has a reason for feeling the way that he does - and it’s not you. Oh, and tell him that I want my star students to sit in the front of my class again, the back is for troublemakers, you know that.”

“I was hoping for something more along the lines of, ‘He’s craving licorice so bring him some and he’ll be happy’ but I guess what you said isn’t that bad too.” You stretched, walked over to your cousin and kissed the top of his head. “Wish me luck!”

“You’ll be fine,” Charles laughed, and you could hear him chuckling until you closed the door behind you. The halls weren’t busy, just a couple of students coming to and from the library. You walked past them over to the dormitories, and stopped in front of Bill’s. You raised your hand to knock on it, but paused, hearing a sound coming from within.

“British prat,” Bill’s voice said. “Oh, I’m Charles, I can read minds, I can steal girlfriends. Who does he think he is? Y/n is too good for him. Hell, even too good for me.”

You opened the door as silently as you could, and saw that he was pacing his small room, his back to you. He continued to mutter to himself as he walked towards his window. “He’s so lucky he’s in a chair or else-”

“Or else what?” You asked, crossing your arms and leaned against the doorway. He jumped slightly, his tall frame looking quite silly while doing so, and turned around to look at you. “Are you really talking about hurting Charles?”

“Charles,” Bill repeated, looking like he had a bad taste in his mouth. “What makes him so special anyway?”

You rolled your eyes and walked further into the room, closing the door behind you and turned the lock. It was against the rules of course, but you figured the headmaster might understand this time and not get you into trouble. “Well, he is incredibly intelligent, gifted, talented and-”

“If you say handsome, I’m never talking to you again,” Bill warned, his eyes settled on yours.

“I wasn’t going to say handsome. I was going to say the best cousin that I could ever have asked for. Almost like a brother, really. Though I hear a lot of the girls fancy him. So maybe he is handsome, I wouldn’t know.”

“Your cousin?” Bill asked, sitting down on his bed, looking at you with disbelief. “Am I supposed to just believe that?”

“I could ask him if I could rummage through the attic to find some old pictures, but I’d hope that you would believe me. It would be nice to be trusted just a little.” You walked towards his bed and sat on the edge, then pulled up your legs to be cross-legged and facing him. “But proof aside, Bill, baby, why are you feeling jealous? Have I done anything to make you think that I would ever cheat on you?”

“Well, no-” He said, pulling a face. He was going to say more but you quickly interrupted.

“That’s what I thought. So this is a you issue and I want you to talk to me about it.” You took hold of his hands and held them in your lap, squeezing them. He was always so damn warm, you already felt like you were heating up.

“Can we lay down?” He asked, tugging his hands away. You nodded and waited for him to get situated, laying on his back with one arm outstretched. You rested your neck upon it, and snuggled up to him. He kissed your forehead, and then rubbed his nose against yours in affection. “I had a dream a couple of nights ago where you left me. I couldn’t bear it.”

“So instead of telling me about it, you decide to grow suspicious of my cousin?” You asked, snuggling against his chest. He breathed out calmly, and you felt his chest rise and fall underneath your friend.

“Sounds stupid when you say it like that,” Bill said after a minute of thinking. “He really is your cousin?”

“You don’t see the family resemblance?” You teased, and poked your own nose. It was a rather distinctive feature on your cousin, not so much on you. Bill laughed and pulled you on top of him, chest to chest, stomach to stomach. He kissed the tip of your nose.

“Not at all, and I hope I never do.”

“But he’s so handsome,” You teased, and instantly regretted it, because he hands came up and started to ticke your sides, making you squirm with laughter. “Okay, okay, let’s not talk about him unless we’re talking about class, okay?”

“And no talking about any other guys either,” Bill said, sternly.

“That’s taking it a little far, baby,” You said, running your fingers through his soft hair. “You shouldn’t be insecure at all, I’m yours. And that’s not going to change if I have to pair up with a boy for a project or something.”

Bill sighed, and leaned his head back against his pillow. “You’re just too good for me.”

“Says who?”

“Myself.”

“You really should be nicer to yourself, Bill. I promise you - you’re amazing and I wish you thought of yourself that way. I wish for a day you could see yourself as I see you.”

“Too bad your power isn’t to change yourself into me,” Bill said with a smirk. “Then I’d be seeing myself in a really weird way.”

“I’d still try to kiss you - oh and make so much trouble,” You giggled, thinking about it. Bill distracted you with another kiss, this time on the lips, deepening it. But you pulled away before things could get too intimate. “I should get going though, babe. I’ve got to work on our assignment for-” You paused before you said the name, and chose your next words carefully. “X’s class.”

“Wait, what assignment?” Bill said. You got up off of him and onto your feet, adjusting your shirt where it had gotten rumpled.

“Really? You glare at him so long, you don’t even pick up anything that he was saying?” You asked, pulling your hair back from your face in the way that you knew Bill liked. It was a bit of a tease but he deserved it for how he was acting.

“I was more focused on trying to make his brain explode.” Bill sat up, and shrugged. You sighed, and walked into the spot between his legs. He wrapped his arms around you and rested his head against your stomach. “Can you help me out?”

“Always.”

[dontcare77ghj]

Domestic

Farm House sequel

Natasha x reader x Clint

It was a peaceful morning, though it was nearly noon. The sun had long ago risen, and its beams had brightened the bedroom hours ago. Waking up was a difficult process, you were surrounded by warmth that almost beckoned you to fall back asleep. Opening your eyes, you were met with a naked chest in front of you, shifting your head you saw Clint’s still asleep peaceful face.

Turning slightly, you could see Natasha too was still sleeping. Her hair was falling over her relaxed face, a gentle smile adorned her face. Smiling at the two you relaxed back into their grasp with a content sigh. The three of you had been home for almost two weeks. After the whole Ultron dilemma Natasha and lint had decided to go on leave for a while.

With the instructions not to bother the three of you unless the world was ending, the three of you had enjoyed the time you finally got together. The two never told the team when to expect them back but it was a good guess they wouldn’t be back for a long while.

But Natasha and Clint didn’t care. They deserved this break and they were going to have it.

“I can hear you thinking.” Clint murmured, startling you out of your thoughts. Clint’s bleary eyes were attempting to focus on you as he ran his fingers through your locks. “Go back to sleep, Y/N.”

“It’s already noon, Clint.” You said, leaning into his touch. “We have to get up at some point.”

“But we have nowhere to be and nothing to do today.” Natasha spoke causing you to jump.  “So, we don’t have to get up at all.” She explained with a smile.

“Your right.” You said, leaning back into Natasha’s chest. “It feels good to not have to get up.”

“Well get used to it.” Clint said, throwing his arm over the two of you. “We have plenty of time to do absolutely nothing.”

“I like the sound of that.” You replied. The three of you continued talking softly, no-one making the move to get up, and before you knew it you all drifted back off to sleep.

“No, no, no, no. Stop that.” Clint said, taking the bowl away from you. “Your going to ruin it.”

“Your going to ruin it.” You repeated, trying to take the bowl back. Clint smiled and held the bowl higher over his head.

“You can’t add vodka to the brownie mixture.” He sighed, moving further away from you. “That’s not in the recipe.” In hindsight Natasha should have known better to go into town and leave you and Clint alone. The two of you had gotten bored and there was absolutely nothing else to do so you’d decided to make brownies.

While baking Clint had the genius idea to pour a glass or two of vodka, this led to your brilliant idea to add vodka to the brownies.

“If it’s in the mix, it’s in the recipe.” You said, levitating the mixture away from Clint’s hands. “At least that’s how it works in my head.”

“No powers in the kitchen.” Clint whined, giving you a pout. “The brownies don’t need vodka, don’t ruin a perfectly good brownie.”

“How about we make two boxes, one fun mix with vodka and one regular, less exciting, straight from the recipe mix?” You suggested, placing your bowl on the counter. Clint stared at you for a moment before nodding his consent.

“I can live with that. More brownies.” He said, pulling the other mix out of the cupboard.

“Oh Lucky, move bud.” You exclaimed, almost tripping over the one-eyed dog. Lucky continued to follow you, repeatedly moving under your feet. “Clint control your dog.” You ordered, placing the items in your hands on the counter.

“He’s not my dog, he’s our dog.” He said, turning to you with a smile. “Can you grab me the flour?” He asked, turning back to his bowl.

“Of course.” You replied, moving over to the pantry. Grabbing the item, he needed, you walked back into the kitchen only to trip over the golden retriever. The bag of flour flew out of your hand and landed on Clint’s head, covering him from head to toe.

“Babe!” He exclaimed in shock. You covered your mouth and tried to hold in the giggles threatening to escape your mouth. Eventually you couldn’t hold them in and began to giggle uncontrollably.

“Sorry, sweetie.” You laughed, wiping tears from your eyes. Clint narrowed his blue eyes at you before giving you a sickeningly sweet smile.

“Of course, you are. Babe you have something on your face.” Clint said, pointing to your face. He quickly grabbed his brownie mix and rushed towards you and dumped the mixture on your head.

“Clint!” You shrieked, trying to pull away from the man. He held you tighter in his arms. Using your powers, you made eggs begin to pelt him in the back.

“No powers in the kitchen.” He yelled, using the empty bowl to protect himself. Grabbing the carton of milk, he hurled the liquid at you. Milk dripped from your face and chocolate batter off your head. Eggs continued to pelt Clint and flour flung around as he moved. Lucky ran around the kitchen barking as he watched the two of you.

“Just because you don’t have any powers to use.” You snarked, throwing flour in his face.

“That’s it.” Clint said, grabbing you by the waist. He lifted you off the ground and threw you over his shoulder causing you to let out a squeal. Eggs stopped pelting Clint as you struggled in his hold.

“Clint, no!”

“I was only gone for an hour.” Natasha said from the doorway, making her presence known. “How the hell did you two cause all this?”

“Tash!” You both exclaimed in surprise.

“How long have you been standing there?” You asked, still hanging over Clint’s shoulder.

“More than long enough.” She answered, moving into the kitchen. “Why do you have another bowl of brownie mix?” She asked, moving over to the counter.

“We wanted to make a normal batch and a vodka batch.” Clint explained, readjusting his grip on you.

“A vodka brownie. That would’ve been a great treat.” She said, picking up the bowl and dipping her finger in it. She let out a groan as she tasted it before smiling at you both. “It’s a shame it had to be spilled.” She added, flinging the mixture on you both.

The two of you stared wide eyed at the woman before Clint put you back on your feet. He gave you a mischievous smile and grabbed your hand.

“Y/N, what kind of husband or wife are we if we don’t hug our other wife when she comes home?” Clint asked, turning to you.

“Horrible partners we are Clint.” You said with a smirk, before you both turned back to face the red head. The two of you gave the woman no warning before tackling her to the ground, arms wrapped tightly around her and each other.

“Gross.” Natasha scowled, mock glaring at the two of you. Natasha kissed you first before doing the same to Clint. “Though that tastes nice.” She commented with a smile. The three of you laid together on the ground, Lucky behind you eating the egg off the floor, for a long time before Natasha tapped you both on the thigh and sat up. “You two are cleaning this up.”

With a groan the three of you got off the ground and surveyed the kitchen as you stood.

“Oh Thor, help us.” You sighed, leaving to grab the mop.

“No Lucky, don’t eat that!”

“I found it!” You cheered, placing the album on the table. Natasha eagerly reached for the album as you climbed into the blanket with her. The two had been home for a month and a half now yours had been filled with laughter, love and enjoying the time you had together.

Clint had gone into town to pick up a few supplies as well as some things for a new project he wanted to start. He’d been gone for a couple of hours and you and Natasha had decided to look through some old photos. Photos from when you just started dating, your wedding day and some that were taken a bit more recently.

“Oh look, it’s when Clint brought Lucky home.” Natasha cooed, scratching the mutt on the head.

“You had us from day one, Pizza Dog.” You said, playing with his paw.

“Speaking of, do you think picked one up?” Natasha asked with a groan. “Should I text him?”

“He’s probably already on his way back.” You said, curling into her side. “Besides it’s Clint, he’s at least bought at least three.” You added with a smile.

“Fair point.” She said, wrapping her arm around you and continuing to flip through the album. “Look it’s when we went to Disney land.”

“That was a good day, though please for me, never dye your hair black and never let Clint dye his red.” You begged, cringing slightly at the photo.

“It was only to keep our covers.” She assured, rubbing your arm.

“Good because I love your hair like this.” You said, running your fingers through the curly red locks.

“Well I love you.” She sweetly said, kissing you on the lips.

“Love you too.” You responded as Lucky began to bark. “Clint’s home.” You commented, Lucky barreling off the bed to greet the man. A quiet bark caused you and Natasha to tilt you head. “Lucky?” You called questioningly.

“Clint, what did you do?” Natasha asked, putting the album to the side. You both made to get out of bed only to freeze as Lucky and Clint walked in, Clint holding a tiny beagle in his arms. “Clint what the hell?” Natasha sighed, staring down at the man.

“I can explain I swear.” Clint said, a guilty look adorning his face. “He was all alone in an alley and these kids were kicking him around. He won’t cause any problems, he’s so sweet and look Lucky likes him.”

“Clint, breath.” You said, interrupting the rambling man. “Bring him over to the bed.” You added, gesturing him over. Clint slowly walked over to bed, puppy excitedly looking around, and passed the little dog to you. “Hi there little guy.” You cooed, raising the pup closer to your face.

“He is cute.” Natasha admitted, scratching him behind the ears. “We still have Lucky’s old bed in the attic right?” She asked, turning to you.

“He doesn’t need a bed, he can stay right here with us.” You said, more to the beagle than Natasha.

“Y/N you know we cant have a puppy in bed. We’re not supposed to coddle them.” She sighed, shaking her head at you.

“Wait, so your not mad?” Clint asked with wide eyes.

“Oh no, your sleeping on the couch.” Natasha said, turning to the man. “I’ve told you to stop bringing strays home.”

“But he’s so sweet.” He attempted to defend himself. “How can you be mad I bought him home?”

“Milo. His name is Milo.” You interrupted, not taking your eyes off Milo who was playing with Lucky.

“Really, Milo?” Clint asked, scrunching his nose at the name.

“If you want any hope of staying in this bed tonight, you won’t say anything about his name.” You warned, narrowing your eyes at the man. Natasha smirked as Clint raised his hands in surrender. 

“Milo it is.” He chirped, jumping off the bed. “Because you two are the best wives a man could ask for and so accepting no matter what I do, I got you lunch.” He said, beginning to leave the room.

“It better be pizza, Clinton.” 

“Of course it is, what kind of a person do you think I am? Pizza and the coffee you both like.”

“You’re back in the bed tonight.” Natasha said causing the man to cheer slightly. Clint was balancing the boxes of pizza and tray on top of each other as he came back into the room. He stopped in the doorway to smile at the sight of his favorite people.

The two of you were curled into each other playing with the two dogs, both of whom were fascinated by the shine of your diamond skin, smiling so brightly he was nearly blinded and not because of the light bouncing off your skin. 

Watching Natasha finally be able to relax and be at ease in her environment was always a welcome sight and seeing you comfortable in your skin, in all it’s many forms, made his heart melt. This was definitely where he felt at ease.

This was home and he was sure glad to be here. Maybe they’d have to extend their holiday a little more. 

Leave feedback. Leave a comment (Love those). Give it a like. Reblog it. Share with your friends. Buy me a KO-FI. 

Guys if you have a coupling or idea you really want to see. Inbox or message me.

Coming soon;

Natasha x reader x Bucky

Natasha x reader x Steve x Bucky

Natasha x reader x Steve

Clint x reader x Sam

Wanda x reader x Natasha

Sam x reader x Bucky x Steve

Previous work: Bed

[amplesalty]

Christmas 2020: Day 3 - Home Alone 4: Taking Back the House (2002)

On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me...

3rd degree burns!

Wait, you mean there are more than just two of these? Yeah, I guess people only talk about the two starring The Incredible Culk himself. I’m uncharacteristically skipping ahead here to the 4th movie as I understand the 3rd doesn’t even take place at Christmas. For shame! It does have a young Scarlett Johansen in though and was surprisingly still released in cinemas at that time. I would have thought it would been a straight-to-video job for sure. Apparently it was up for a Razzie for worst remake or sequel but lost to Speed 2. I actually saw that in the cinema!

Anyway, not only does 4 actually take place at Christmas, it’s notable for starring Kevin McCallister so serves as a continuation of the first two movies, unlike 3 which went off with brand new characters. No other returning faces here either so no Catherine O’Hara, no Joe Pesci, no Daniel Stern, not even a John Heard. Guess we’ll just have to make do with his showing in Would You Rather? Back during Halloween. We get some familiar characters but they’ve just been re-cast. Peter McCallister was really throwing me off at first, I recognised him from something but just couldn’t place it...

Holy shit, it’s the guy from Monkey Shines! That would make for a much more interesting movie; the psycho monkey defending the house from burglars.

They could have very easily worked a monkey into the movie if they wanted since the story goes that Kevin’s parents are now about to go through a divorce and Peter is shacked up with some rich lady. Rather than face another holiday season being abused by Buzz and Megan, he decides to take his chances with the step mother. And boy, is he ever glad that he did because he gets his own bedroom choc full of gizmos like a giant multi screen television, games consoles, arcade cabinets and computer. Bit of a step up from sleeping in the attic or playing with that Talkboy all the time. That thing seemed really big for what it was, you’d expect a voice recorder to be a sleek little device but you had this fairly big camcorder like unit with a handle and extending microphone that looked like an eyepiece. Maybe kids just like having a substantial toy like that or it was trying to make them feel more grown up to have something camcorder like without the accompanying video technology that wasn’t as ubiquitous and cheap at that time.

He’s not the only one with cool toys to play with as Dad’s new girlfriend, Natalie, has a smart house which seems pretty revolutionary for the year 2002. Like, full on smart house that doesn’t even need a front door key, just take our your little voice remote dealie and give the house an instruction. Open door, play music, turn on the fire...it’s like Alexa 15 years ahead of it’s time. Modern day Chucky would have a field day. It feels like a bit of a wasted opportunity though as it’s not really used as part of the eventual house defense. You’d think there’s a lot of potential there for Kevin to setup traps that he can trigger by saying a keyword but I think the only time it really comes up is when he immediately tells the house the shut the door that one of the burglars open so they promptly get their nose smashed in.

To that end, this is a fairly shoddy setup security wise as it seems to respond to any voice, not just the owners so what you get is the burglars who happen to have their own remote they can use to just stroll into the house. I say burglars, they’re not really, they have greater criminal aspirations; kidnapping. For Natalie has foreign royalty due to stay at the house for the holidays so they figure they can swoop in and kidnap the crown Prince and ransom him off.

And these aren’t just any crooks, for in what is one in a long line of rehashes, it’s Marv! But no Harry, instead it’s Marv’s wife Vera tagging along. Only, Marv is dressed much more like Harry so this is really confusing. Like, there’s this one point after Marv realises that Kevin is staying at this house too, he tells his wife how much trouble this kid has caused and that he has the scars to prove it. I kept expecting him to pull out his hand to show the ‘M’ burned into it but of course that was Harry who scolded his hand on the heated doorknob.

I must say, there’s obviously some big shoes to fill coming in to replace Daniel Stern but I kinda liked French Stewart here as Marv. Maybe they switched the characters to avoid confusion with him already having played a character called Harry in 3rd Rock from the Sun? There’s just this sort of fast paced, talkative energy to him which whilst not entirely fitting for Marv, it did put me in mind of Jim Varney. I feel like he’d do a good job if they ever wanted to do more Ernest type commercials or movies.

We really do get a wider look at the extended Marv family with not only his wife but also his Mother too since, spoiler warning, the movie spends the whole time dropping massive hints that the butler is the one running an inside job and helping out Marv and his missus but it’s actually the maid the whole time who turns out to be Marv’s mum.

I feel like this would have been a cooler plot point if they’d played into it more, like you could this have this whole duality thing where you have Kevin going through these coming of age experiences, no longer the helpless little boy, compared to Marv now going from hardened criminal to having his mum fighting his battles. It could be this elaborate revenge scheme from a mother who has been robbed of her son for years because of Kevin foiling his plans and landing him in jail. He’s the reason she’s got no grandkids!

I mean, between all the jail time and the fact he keeps going for the guys balls, whether he’s shooting them in part 1 or flying a drone into them here. In the end though it’s all just a bit of a coincidence more than anything, she just happened to running this con job in a house where Kevin just happens to end up living in.

There is a really stupid moment here where they lock the butler and Kevin in the wine cellar and the two spend ages pondering how they’re going to get out. The butler then realises he has a cell phone. Now, this is 2002 so these things are becoming much more widespread and writers have to start thinking of ways to write around them. It seems fairly obvious that they’d say “Oh, can’t get a signal down here in the cellar.” or something but no. Instead, he just hands the phone to Kevin who promptly calls home, gets hung up on twice by Buzz before getting through to his mum who suddenly can’t hear him very well despite Buzz hearing him fine. Then the phone’s battery dies despite only being in use for like 2 minutes. Bullshit, this isn’t an iPhone 12 GIGAMAX or whatever the hell they’re on nowadays where the battery runs out after 6 hours, this is the early 2000’s where your Nokia 3310 could last a week off a single charge.

Stupid just kinda sums the whole thing up really. Marv and Vera seem to be lacking in that sense of menace that Harry and Marv had back in the original. Maybe 2 was already taking them a little sillier, that whole electric shock skeleton scene springs to mind,  but here there always seems to be goofy music backing them or silly sound effects that make everything feel a lot of childish. I guess they always have been kids movies but it feels especially so here, Harry and Marv just felt a lot more threatening. Probably helped that Pesci had that pedigree of being in all those mobster movies.

It’s cute in a way for them to bring back these characters and reference all these things from the original but it’s just lacking the heart that the first one had. It’s called Home Alone but this isn’t a home, it’s a house. The McCallister house in the first movie just had this warmth to it, all those vibrant colours, the greens and reds, sure it was extravagant but it still felt like a family home whereas this just feels cold and sterile.  It has this sort of emptiness that seems so common with the way rich people’s houses are decorated in media. There’s not even a single snowflake in sight either, you call this Chicago?

And just think back to the lengths Kate was willing to go to to get back home to Kevin, “If it costs me everything I own, If I have to sell my soul to the Devil himself, I am going to get home to my son.” The step mother here though couldn’t care less and is prepared to just throw money at the problem until Kevin’s love is bought.

Now that I think about it, it’s called Home Alone but I don’t think there’s a single point in this movie where he’s left Home Alone. He’s either being babysat by Buzz, the butler or the nanny. Well I guess there has been some character growth around t

Of all the re-hashes though, there is one that is particularly alarming...

Goddamnit! They did it again! I’d been safe for years but it just keeps on finding its way back to me. And they can’t even do that tradition right, you’re supposed to play a foreign dubbed version! We’ve already had the French and Spanish versions, where’s the German one?! Though the alternative universe where George isn’t there to save Harry so Harry then can’t save that ship full of American soldiers in WWII is probably considered the good ending there...

[stillmuddlingthru-blog]

#12: The Christmas that was Cancelled…Almost.

The Christmas that was cancelled is a well known story around our holiday table or over a few beers.  In some ways, I’m almost embarrassed to tell it to people outside my inner circle. Many might judge me as a bad parent or a Scrooge.   Although it was painful at the time, I think my kids look back on it as a classic family tale.  If not, I’m sure they will get their revenge when I’m old and gray and they shove me in a nursing home.  Any hoo, grab a cup of hot chocolate, warm your feet by the fire, sit back and enjoy the adventure.

Many, many years ago when my girls were still young enough to believe in Santa (at least the youngest), we had an unfortunate incident happen a couple of weeks before Christmas.   As a working mom, my time was tight so, as I purchased gifts for the family, I shoved them on top of a cedar chest in my walk in closet.  Now in my defense, the clothes hanging above the chest touched the top of the chest, thus creating a perfect hiding spot for my bagged gifts…or so I thought.  My plan was to wait until the kids were out playing, lock the door and wrap all the presents at once.  After all, I had plenty of time to get them under the tree and time was limited.  Apparently, I wasn’t as clever as I thought. 

  Upon returning home from work one day, I noticed my closet light was on and the door cracked open.  Thinking I must have forgotten to turn out the light and shut the door, I dismissed this error on my part and went about my evening.  However, the next day, when I came home from work, once again the light was on and the door was cracked open.  A pattern was beginning to emerge.  So the next morning, I paid close attention and made sure the light was off and the door was closed.  Would the closet fairy return? We shall see.

To my horror, when I got home from work, the light was once again on and the door cracked open.  Someone was snooping in my closet.  Now what?  Since the items were all in bags, did they see everything?  Is Christmas ruined? Suddenly the answer appeared in front of me in the form of my youngest child.   Although she was a smart child, the emotion of Christmas overwhelmed her and common sense went out the window. Excitement  took control of her like truth serum.  With her big brown eyes and her body twirling to and fro, she blurted out to me, “Mommy, I know I’m not suppose to say anything, but……” as she hesitates to continue, “I just love the slippers you got me for Christmas!” Busted!   Better than a line up in a cop movie, the guilty (or at least one of them) confesses before the questioning begins.  Under further investigation, the little one spills the fact that the oldest found (and I use the word loosely, more like searched) the Christmas stash, and dragged her little sister into the dirty deed.  Mortified, I panicked.  What should we do?  Being an only child and from parents that went through the Great Depression, I never thought of peeking.  Who cares what color my new panties or shoes are?  It certainly wasn’t worth getting into trouble for.  

I asked my husband for advice since he came from a family of 6 children who grew up in a very small house.  Surely, with that many kids, he must have experienced an incident of peeking.  To my dismay, he couldn’t remember any slip ups.  As we huddled in our bedroom in search of a plan of action, we called his father for advice.  Surely, he would tell us a good story and offer some words of wisdom.  After telling him about the closet fairy and the confession, we asked him, “Has this ever happened to you?  What did you do?”  His response, “I can’t give you any advice, it never happened with our kids.  We weren’t dumb enough to store the gifts at our house.  We always kept them at our neighbor’s house a couple of doors down.”  There it was, the cold hard facts, we were dumb parents.  

Trying not to feel defeated, we came up with a plan to teach our girls a lesson.  We would cancel Christmas or at least lead them to think their actions caused them to lose their gifts.  I know, we are mean, but it seemed like a good idea at the time and we were desperate.  Desperate times call for desperate measures. We called the children into the living room and gave them a long lecture on peeking pros and cons 101.  “Do you realize that peeking ruins the surprise of Christmas?  What is the point of having wrapped presents if you know what is inside?  We’re calling Santa and telling him to take all the presents back since there is no point in keeping them.  Your actions have ruined Christmas so don’t expect any presents under the tree this year.”  Yeah, I know, we went overboard.  They cried and whimpered off to their rooms.

The next day, we wrapped all the presents, shoved them into several black large leaf bags and while the kids were outside telling their friends of the horrors of the Christmas Nazi, we shoved them up into the attic space, and out of sight.  Now if we can only keep a straight face, we can fool them.  We agreed to let them sweat it out and to postpone Christmas by one day, thus creating the illusion that all the gifts were indeed sent back to Santa.

The days leading up to Christmas were grim in our household.  Each day they would come home from school and check to see if any presents were under the tree.  When the lack of gifts was questioned, I reminded them that Christmas was cancelled and the gifts were indeed sent back as promised.  Yes, I lied.  Yes, I’m going to hell and I’m driving the bus.  

Tension mounted.  Finally Christmas morning arrived and the tree was bare.  No presents, no stocking stuffers, no joy.  We managed to ruin their Christmas; shame on us.   Later that morning, as all kids do, it was time to go outside, to play and compare gifts with the neighborhood.   The look on their faces was almost too much to bear.    How could they admit their shame and tell their friends they were so bad that they received nothing.  Parent guilt was also becoming unbearable.  How could we make it through another 18 hours? After a long morning of sad faces, the charade was too much and the suffering of our children too great.  We couldn’t stand another minute of disappointment in their eyes.  It’s time to turn it around and bring Christmas back. 

  While the kids continued to sulk outside, we quickly brought down the black bags and loaded the presents under the sad tree.  Calling the kids into the house, we sat them on the steps by the front door and in a final attempt to burn an impression into their minds, we threw at them one more lecture on how their peeking had ruined Christmas for everyone.  With tears in their eyes, and apologies to never do it again, we sternly told them to get into the living room.  Upon entering the room, their little hearts lit up with joy and delight to see that the presents had indeed returned. Christmas was back.  All was well in the household.

Months later, we became friends with some of the neighborhood parents, and over a few beers, this tale of woe was told.  The couple across the street began to laugh and said, “Oh, so you are the parents that didn’t buy any gifts for your kids.”  She proceeded to tell us her own tale of woe. Apparently, her kids came running home on Christmas day upset and distraught their friends had nothing for Christmas. She in turn got upset too.  How terrible of those parents to not get their kids ANYTHING. What kind of parent’s are they?  Something must be done to save Christmas! She proceeded to tell us her plan to borrow the credit card so she could run out and buy those babies a present.  To our shame, we admitted to being those bad parents. 

Our plan of making a teaching moment out of a bad situation only made the children saints and us notorious. No lesson was learned by the children, only by the parents….don’t be stupid.  To this day, my oldest still picks up each package, checks to see whose name is on it, if her and her sisters have the same number of presents, and I’m sure when I’m not around, she peeks.  Oh well, you can’t say we didn’t try.  

[jaiell-verscecetti]

Becoming Hell’s Prince Chapter 1

I Didn’t Sign Up For This (Nobody Would)

It’s already been a month since the funeral, and we were placing all of her things in the basement. Including all the trinkets she had in the attic.

We could’ve sold them, but mom didn’t want to.

“Dad, why must I be the one to get all of her stuff from the attic?” I complained. He merely gave me a smile.

“Because before she went, she asked us to make you do it.”

Frankly, I’m annoyed. Anyone else could do it! It’s not like she’s going to rise from the dead if it wasn’t me!

‘Why me?’ I asked in my head, carrying a box filled with weird jewelry in it down to the basement. ‘These should just stay in the attic. I mean, no one would notice them...’ I look down at the box in my arms. ‘Shame mom didn’t want to sell these... Goth kids would probably go crazy for them...’

Once I reached the basement, I immediately placed it on top of another box, something falling out of it.

It was a pretty little necklace with a pretty, glowing ruby in the shape of a diamond, with what seemed to be a golden barbed wire wrapped loosely around it, the chain of the necklace clearly made from silver.

As pretty as it was, it felt odd. I didn’t want to place it back in the box.

In the end, I kept it in the pocket of my pants, leaving the basement without looking back.

“Was that the last one, Xhao?” Dad called out as I passed through the kitchen, barely even glancing at him.

“That was.” I answer. “Can I stay in my room for a while?”

There was a small moment of silence between us before he let out a sigh, and immediately I could sense sadness rolling off of him in waves.

“Sure, just keep in mind that you have piano lessons tomorrow.” He said, masking what he felt, and I left without answering, simply walking towards my room.

While going upstairs, I heard my mom talk gently to my dad.

“You know, he seems... off...” She said, worry laced in her voice.

“His big sister just died. They were close, Yin.” He answered. “It would naturally take a toll on him.

I scoff inwardly. ‘Yeah, right. close.’ The thought was bitter, hard to swallow, but true. ‘She promised me. The first rule was to never break promises. She broke hers, and we’re close.?’

I collapsed on my bed directly after I, basically, slammed the door closed, trying to bury myself into my blankets without any intention of getting up.

Though that thought got interrupted when the necklace decided to remind me it was still with me by poking my thigh. Painfully.

“Ow.” I wince, gently pulling said necklace out of my pocket, dangling the gem above my head. “Thought it was made out of cheap plastic... Guess I was wrong.” I mumbled to myself, playing with the gem for a few minutes as light reflected off of it. “Must be some expensive thing though...”

Suddenly, the ruby started glowing.  beating in a certain rhythm, as if it was calling out to me, hypnotizing me, wanting me to do something...

Without a second thought, I shoved it in my bedside drawer, effectively removing the weird feeling.

“Phew..” I breathe out a sigh of relief, about to collapse back into bed...

... When smoke started pouring out from the drawer.

“What the hell?!” The words left my mouth as I stood up and opened the drawer, bringing in more smoke, this time in a shade of red, to my room, the source being the necklace itself, now glowing brighter.

I close my eyes, the smoke stinging them.

Then it stopped. Gone was the smell of smoke, and when I opened my eyes, there wasn’t even a speck of it left.

Like it was never there.

I took a look at the necklace still in the drawer, my eyes widening at what I saw.

It looked like a completely different necklace. The barbed wire was gone, now replaced with black gems in the shape of wings, with another set of wings made out of a very shiny gem below the first pair. Two golden circles were encircling the gem, forming an x at the center.

“What in the unholy name of all the devils...” I mutter underneath my breath, watching it warily, fearing it might do something.

Anything.

Nothing.

When the last bits of my fear dissipated, I brought the gem into my hands, examining its new features.

Although it looked different, something told me it was the same necklace I had.

The strange sensation came back, the necklace pulsing along with it. There was a voice now, calling out gently. 

Strange, strange voices, but oh, so familiar.

“Put it on, Xhao Yun.. You want to know what it does, right? Go on then...” It sang. “You’re curious, aren’t you...? Go on, Li Xhao Yun... Do not be afraid...’

All of a sudden, it felt like I wasn’t the one controlling my body.

My hands opened the necklace’s lock, gently placing it on my neck in a slow motion. I struggled gaining dominance over my own goddamned hands, trying not to lock the necklace.

Until it was finally closed, and smoke filled my vision once more, the acrid smell of burning flesh cutting off any air I had left.

Then, finally, finally, it stopped

And my conciousness was snatched away from me.

[queenlua]

cool stuff i noticed while rereading the script of Inception

I wasn't planning to write this all tonight, but uh, I really love inception y'all.

NOLAN’S WRITERLY FLAWS

Here's a lengthy bit from the original script, which got cut from the movie:

MILES Everybody dreams, Cobb. Architects are supposed to make those dreams real.

COBB That's not what you used to say. You told me that in the real world I'd be building attic conversions and gas stations. You said that if I mastered the dream-share I'd have a whole new way of creating and showing people my creations. You told me it would free me.

Miles looks at Cobb, sad.

MILES And I'm sorry. I was wrong.

COBB No, you weren't. Your vision was a vision of pure creativity. It's where we took it that was wrong.

It's a rare glimpse into a side of Cobb we don't really see in the movie—young, drawn to the idea of pure creation, to all the beautiful high-minded concepts behind this dream-sharing business. You can almost feel Nolan himself, giddy, beneath this—as a creator that's got to be one of the coolest parts of this whole idea of dream-sharing; hell, when I first saw this move in The Year of Our Lord Two Thousand and Ten, I went straight home and started writing some fanfiction, not about any of the characters, but about the intensity of feeling behind sharing dreams, what it would mean to create in that way—

—and it was totally right not to stick it in the film, because though Inception is a beautiful film with beautiful ideas, it's a heist movie at heart, and it has to focus on the pragmatic while giving the lofty beauty of it all a sly wink. The "youthful idealist architect Cobb" only comes across in subtext—a slight lightness in his step during his training sessions with Ariadne, maybe a bit when musing over what would draw the intense and beautiful Mal to him.

Here's another bit—from the scene when Cobb is having his final confrontation with Mal, and she's trying to convince him to stay in limbo with her. I italicized / surrounded with asterisks the bit that got cut:

MAL So certain of your world. Of what's real. Do you think he is- (points at Cobb) Or do you think he's as lost as I was?

COBB I know what's real.

***MAL What are the distinguishing characteristics of a dream? Mutable laws of physics? Tell that to the quantum physicists. Reappearance of the dead? What about heaven and hell? Persecution of the dreamer, the creator, the messiah? They crucified Christ, didn't they?***

COBB I know what's real.

MAL No creeping doubts? Not feeling persecuted, Dom? Chased around the globe by anonymous corporations and police forces? The way the projections persecute the dreamer?

Gosh, that line is just... what? We have this super-emotionally-charged moment, the make-it-or-break-it for Cobb to wrest his way from Mal's grasp, and we're throwing in random references to quantum physics and Christiainty??? It made the cutting board, as it should have.

But what I like about these lines is that they show us Nolan's rough edges—and it's Nolan the goddamn nerd, who loved Star Wars as a kid and talked about The Matrix a lot when talking about this movie and, based on his writing style, I honestly suspect is a little bit of a closet anime nerd. This is a guy who's really jazzed about ideas, who veers on the side of babbling too much about a beloved topic, or just reaaaaally wants that physics reference in there because of the cool parallels with the other ideas. I love it.

He also tends to add awkward touches of melodrama when left to his own devices. A line like "I performed [inception] on my wife and reaped the bitter rewards" gets transformed, with Leo's quiet humanity, into "I knew inception was possible because I did it to her first." Which gets a little into "what the actors brought to the movie", which I'll get into later.

I have a pet theory that what draws people to, say, a favorite author, or a favorite filmographer, is a love for both what they do well and their flaws. I was struck by this when reading a review of the Sea of Fertility tetraology, by my favorite author, and found myself basically agreeing with the review—the only difference was, the shit that drove the reviewer crazy were the things that gripped me in weird ways, that I recognized as flawed but still enjoyed warmly. Mishima's writing is melodramatic and Isao comes across as weirdly robotic and his pretenses at intellectualization come across as strained and confused—those were all things that drew me in deeper.

Which is not an argument against editors, and doing the Actual Right Thing; this is stuff that very rightly made the cutting board. But when it's a tough call for what the right way forward is, Nolan goes a little bit dorky, a little bit melodramatic, and those tiny moments are delectable.

MAKING EMOTIONAL SENSE

Something that struck me, when I rewatched Inception this weekend: Cobb's description of inception on Mal doesn't entirely make sense. It's not quite impossible according to the rules of the script, but it intuitively seems like performing inception in limbo is a very different thing than doing it from within a dream. He refers to having built everything in limbo; why would anything in limbo relate to specific parts of one mind? And it seems like it'd be easier to trace the genesis of the idea when you're right there in limbo with them when they do it, I'd think?

The point isn't whether it makes sense or not—I'm sure nerds on the argument could argue either side—but the point is that you don't even question the mechanics of it when it's described, because it made complete emotional sense. All through the movie, we've been getting hints that something terrible happened, some subtle thing Cobb's got stored away—and when we finally see it, with that choice imagery, oh, lifting the little locked-away top in Mal's home and spinning it—makes you say oh, makes you gasp, brings it together.

I went to a talk once by one of the writers of Lost, and he talked about this concept in the context of the episode "The Constant." Basically (as is tragically typical with Lost), a character's gotten his consciousness stuck in some sort of bizarre time loop, he keeps flashing back for longer and longer periods of time, and he's gonna die if he can't cut out this "simultaneously stuck in two time periods" thing. So a physics-y character says that Desmond needs to contact a "constant", something present in both time periods, so he can "stabilize" his mental state, and who does he call but his ex-girlfriend.

Does that make a goddamn lick of sense? No, not really. But the show'd already gotten us incredibly invested in this relationship between Desmond and Penny, they've been hinting for a while that Penny's been desperately looking for Desmond, and Desmond's love for her is really heart-melting, and they're using a science-y word ("a constant! like gravity's a constant, bro!"), and the feeling of something converging is the thing that really carries the moment. Lost pulled this kind of shit a lot, really, and it explains a lot of the divisiveness of the show. Invariably when I talk to people who liked Lost, they're usually watching for character, and freely confess the plot wasn't even trying to make sense after season two but that's so not the point. If you were focusing on the plot, you were doomed to be disappointed.

I want to spend more time thinking about this—how you construct something that makes "emotional sense." Do it wrong and there's just a gaping plot hole or bizarre deus ex machina that's going to irk everyone watching it. And, to be clear, I actually don't think these sorts of scenes work in spite of the vagueness/implausibility, but because of it—the important thing in Cobb's moment of inception is the beautiful resonance of that spinning top, the important thing in that Lost episode is the feeling that somehow, some way, love can be the thing that grounds you and saves you. Maybe that's the answer, really—you have to earn it in some other way. Lost earned it by pouring so much attention into Desmond's backstory, and his love for Penny, and the brief desperate glances we got into her search for him—to the point where we were yearning for a resolution. Inception did it in a more Nolanesque way, with its wonderful, precise control of exactly what is on the screen at all times—leading to a the confluence of motifs coming together all at once. Cobb repeats "an idea is like a virus", we see Mal's house again, we see the top, and the salt-swept shores of Limbo and the pair of them clinging to each other, all coming together at once.

WHAT LEO BROUGHT TO COBB

I get the sense, reading the script, that Cobb was meant to be a more, uh, "edgy"/dark/moody-teenage-protagonist-esque character than he actually became. There's just touches, here and there, in the script. There's a scene where, in the movie, Arthur sympathetically says, "I know how much you want to go home." In the movie, Arthur's posture is closed-off, and he's staring out a window, and says nothing until Arthur talks again. In the script though, Cobb cuts him off with a sharp "No, you don't." Touchy, tetchy.

Or how about this bit:

Cobb GRABS SAITO AND PUTS HIS HEAD TO THE FLOOR, gun pressed into his cheek. Saito looks into Cobb's eyes--sees he will pull the trigger. Saito BLINKS, looks away in shame. When he NOTICES SOMETHING. And starts LAUGHING.

Oh man, Cobb is so tough, making the tough Japanese businessman look away in shame—

—except, in the movie, at this point Cobb's getting totally desperate, and instead of playing it deadly-cool, he's waving a gun and fucking screaming at Saito, "TELL US WHAT YOU KNOW! TELL US WHAT YOU KNOW NOW!", and Saito performs no "look of shame."

The other instances are more slight and tedious to cite, but—there's moments in the script where Cobb was supposed to hold a broody stare, and instead got flustered and cut into the next topic right off, moments when he's giving cocky grins that turn more poker-face-y in the movie.

It gives you an appreciation for really good actor can do, what they're bringing to the movie—the subtle changes of expression, turns of phrase, ways they hold themselves can change so much of the mood and feel of a character. I don't think of Cobb as like, the Greatest Character Ever, but as an anchor for the movie, he's pretty solid and rather unique—not quite cold-and-aloof-tragic-past type, not quite the hard-edged-bristly-loner type—something more mature, more weathered, more adult. He comes across as a touch more cerebral, a touch more intense, and those touches resonate really well with what's a reasonably cerebral and a very intense movie.

EXPOSITION IS HARD

Inception is an exposition-heavy movie.  I remember it all flowing seamlessly when I first watched it, but on re-watches it does feel like a bit much, and sometimes awkward (Arthur explaining the concept of limbo while in a shouting match with Cobb, urgh).

But it's interesting how much more there is that didn't even make it into the movie—tons more slips of awkward exposition that got cut. For instance, in the script verion of Cobb's visit to France, when he's trying to get the professor to get him an architect, there's a whole conversation that lays out the “what happened between Cobb and Mal” alarmingly baladly:

COBB I know. I thought you could talk to Marie about bringing them on vacation. Somewhere I could meet--

MILES Why would she listen to me?

COBB You were married for twenty years.

MILES She blames me as much as you.

COBB Doesn't she understand that my kids need me?

MILES Yes, she does. We all do. Go back and face the music, Dom. Explain what Mal did.

COBB Be realistic, Stephen. They'd never understand− they'd lock me up and throwaway the key. Or worse.

MILES You think what you're doing now is helping your case?

COBB Lawyers don't pay for themselves.

I'm glad that didn't make the movie—we get the sense that something happened, but we don't know Mal did something, and while it's made obvious Cobb can't go back to America due to a crime, he doesn't drop a line like "lock me up and throw away the key" ick, etc.

Perhaps Nolan deliberately wrote in more exposition than necessary, with the idea he could cut it based on what sort of context the actors could imply with their actions? The trickiest thing with writing exposition, I think, is that whole "the writer already knows everything" bit—how do you determine what people need to know, and when, and how, when you've already got the whole picture and the pieces seem so obvious to you? I've received praise on some of my original fantasy writing for executing well on this sort of thing—but (1) I think it's goddamn impossible to do much fantasy/scifi writing at all without gaining chops in this area; it's the central challenge of the genres, and (2) I think it's easier in a prose setting—you can toss in throwaway words and references more easily, adding texture and feel without actually following up on it, whereas a movie is crunched for time and every word/reference/etc usually has to count, materially advancing the plot and the reader's understanding.

[pornowatch]

Haunt

Part 1 of a series. Multi-dimensional Reaper/Reyes selfcest. Non-con. Brief choking. Some hints at unrequited R76.

Heed the warning, ya’all. This is definitely not play or dub-con.

Something is haunting Gabriel’s base.

It was created by a chronal accelerator malfunction. Or it was brought into their world from… somewhere else. Winston doesn’t know yet. But it’s here. It moves in the shadows and stays in their peripheral vision, scattering in a wisp of smoke whenever they try to nail it down. For weeks Reyes senses he’s being watched even when he’s alone.

The world won’t stop for one ominous specter rattling chains in Overwatch’s attic, so Reyes works as best he can around it. The strike commander goes to sleep with the feeling of eyes on his back.

---

Gabriel is suffocating.

“You,” a voice growls in the dark, tight, like it’s indignant. “The leader of Overwatch. A wall full of awards and commendations in your big office. Everyone is grateful to you for keeping the peace.”

Gabriel rasps through what feels like smoke filling his lungs, choking his airways and causing his eyes to water. There’s no fire. There’s only the crushing weight on his stomach as a gaunt, twisted version of his own face stares down at him. The apparition’s deathly pale skin seems to glow in the moonlight.

The Reaper sneers: “What makes you so fucking special?”

The acrid burning in his chest lifts, and Gabriel heaves his first few breaths of clean air with tears streaming down his cheeks. He’s meant to answer. Fuck that.

“What are you?” he demands around the ache in his throat.

“Heh. You know what? I’ve spent years wondering that same thing. I thought I was a monster, but I’ve been watching you in this ass-backwards world. Now I know I had it all wrong.” The assailant rakes metal claws down his neck hard enough to sting the skin, and he starts to chuckle darkly. “Turns out I’m just the victim of circumstance. You came heads-up in the coin toss, but somebody else had to lose. A counterbalance for the universe’s sake. You got to be the hero, so I had to become this.”

The thing is insane. Gabriel doesn’t waste time saying so. His hands were cuffed to the bedposts while he was incapacitated; it leaves him vulnerable when his sweatpants are pulled down around his knees.

“What is it you want?” He tries to save face as the leather glove feels him out through his boxer briefs. The self-identified Reaper begins to stroke him through the fabric just on the other side of uncomfortably hard. He ignores the question.

“Haven't seen McCree in your inner circle. Where’d he end up?”

What? Gabriel frowns, mind scrambling. He doesn’t… wait. Wait a minute. McCree was the name of that Deadlock punk Morrison collared on a raid. There’d been a lot of discussion about what to do with the kid, but in the end he went to prison. A life sentence at seventeen. 

Christ, that had been, what? Fifteen years ago?

“Rotting in a hole somewhere, if he’s still alive,” he answers in hopes that the revelation will hurt. On the contrary, the Reaper’s lips draw into a cruel smile.

“In your world there’s no McCree and Ziegler's dead? You just keep winning.” A clawed finger gently taps the tip of Gabriel’s nose. “Justice would be killing you and assuming what’s rightfully mine. Since I can’t get that I‘ll settle for ruining you.”

In a quick movement Reaper tears Gabriel’s boxers off and leaves the scraps to cling around his sweat-damp thighs. Exposed, Gabriel swallows hard. He thinks about having that creature inside him and he knows he can’t take it.

“When I get a hold of you you’ll be begging me to let you die,” he hisses, voice low and dangerous. Reaper is undaunted. The bed creaks as he leans down, looming over Gabriel, challenging him to do anything but lie prone beneath him.

“I’m going to ride you until you forget what it’s like not to have me in your hole. But I’m not a complete monster. I’ll make you a deal: Apologize now and I’ll face you down while I fuck you. You can bury your shame in the pillows if you want.”

“I never did shit to you!” And though the last thing his training would advise is to antagonize his captor, Gabriel spits, “You ever consider the reason you’re like this is because you’re a pathetic psychopath?”

He waits to be hit or choked with the smoke again, but the Reaper has his patience. 

“That brave face? I can’t wait to see it crumble.”

Something in Reyes flies of it’s hitch and flails wildly, reaching for an explanation. What’s more likely than an evil twin from another dimension raping him? A trick of the mind, like a psychological attack. Talon likes to pull that shit. It’s how they got Angela. Maybe they hit him with some neurotoxin, and now Gabriel’s traumatizing himself with a self-crafted hallucination? It’s too damn surreal to be anything else. None of this can actually be happening.

But it is happening. Gabriel can feel it in his skin, especially where Reaper’s touch leaves him with a crawling feeling. The bed shifts with his doppleganger’s weight, and then Reaper is straddling Gabriel at the knees. He’s now missing a glove. Gabriel doesn’t know if he took it off or if it simply vanished.

The hand on his dick feels unnaturally cool. He cringes at the sensation.

“Say you want me.”

“Go to hell.” He doesn’t want this. He turns stiff in Reaper’s firm strokes, but it’s only a physical reaction. He can’t help it.

“You don’t have to pretend. I’m you. I know all the filthy, dirty fantasies you don’t want to own.”

“You are nothing like me.”

Reaper grins and leans down. Gabriel turns away when the pale tongue laps over the head of his dick. 

“Sorry, jefe, but you and I? We’re only removed by a sequence of events.” To punctuate the thought, Reaper plunges half-way down Gabriel’s length and whorls his tongue around the shaft. Gabriel grunts. The mouth around him isn’t hot like it should be, but it’s not uncomfortable enough to turn him off. Reaper’s lips pull off him with a wet pop. “Hm. He didn’t stab you in the back, and McCree’s not around, so I bet you’re even still pining after the boy scout.”

Gabriel doesn’t respond. Silence is evidently enough of an answer for Reaper. He’s back to sucking on Gabriel’s cock, teasing him exactly how he likes. Exactly how he’d imagined Jack doing when he was alone and torturing himself, dreaming about things he’d never have. 

"Stop,” he mutters when the feeling of Reaper’s sucking him off blends with the image of Jack’s blonde hair between his legs, and then the line gets confused.

Reaper doesn’t stop. He knows how this fantasy plays out. Jack, hesitating for a thousand reasons, would finally give in because it’s Gabriel. It would be slow as Jack tested his lips over the first cock he’d ever wanted in his mouth. And as Gabriel’s shaft was rocked over the back of his tongue, those bright blue eyes would look up to him for approval.

“I-uhn. Hmph.” Gabriel squeezes his eyes closed and pretends not to hear Reaper’s satisfied hum, even as it does incredible things to him.

Morrison would grow bolder with success, of course. He’d move faster, feel Gabriel out, push the limit of how much he could comfortably take in. He would fight through the gag reflex as he realized he loved the feeling of Gabriel’s cock bumping his soft pallet. A palm slides up the inside of Gabriel’s thigh and comes to fondle his balls, massaging him in time with the quickening pace of lips moving up and down his length.

Just, yes. Yes. Don’t stop, babe. Please. God, it’s been so long...

As long as he keeps his eyes closed it’s Jack blowing him. As long as he keeps his eyes closed it’s okay if he comes deep in the throat of whoever’s on top of him, because he’s thinking about Jack and that’s acceptable. 

It’s fast and it’s sloppy and it’s just what Gabriel pictured when he imagined calling Jack up to his office and having him kneel under his desk. He would keep his hand on the back of Morrison’s head to keep him from pulling off when his jaw got tired. He’d work the Blackwatch commander’s mouth until he’d cleaned up his technique, learning not to slurp and how to pace himself so he could last until Gabriel finished his paperwork.

Gabriel thinks about pulling out to mark his subordinate’s face and groans, “Mph, Jack.”

That’s when Reaper yanks Gabriel out of his mental refuge and banks hard right. The hand on his balls suddenly clenches around him like a vice.

It’s a frantic moment. It’s painful, but it’s also... oh, oh shit. Gabriel looks down and locks eyes with Reaper, still throat-deep on his cock, and that’s when he breaks. He tries to hold it back. He tries to stop it because it’s not Jack anymore; it’s this sick, conniving version of himself-

“Fuck! Fuck, no! Damn it!” he howls as he starts to come, furious at his own body’s betrayal. He bucks his hips up to where Reaper is waiting to take him all, the tremors of his orgasm so much harder than he can bring himself to acknowledge. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want this. So why is it so goddamn good?

He can’t see his cock with the armor, but Gabriel knows that the Reaper is just as turned on as he is. He takes his victim’s load greedily, swallowing down what is essentially his own come with pleased glint in his eyes. Staring down over his heaving chest, Gabriel watches numbly as the pale-skinned Reaper coaxes him through the last, desperate spasms of his cock until there’s nothing left in him. His will to fight drains from him. Gabriel is sapped and more defeated than he’s ever been.

The Reaper looks up and their eyes make contact again. Reaper winks. Gabriel gets the feeling his should look away, but he doesn’t. 

Christ. There must be a pathological narcissism that runs through every version of the man they are.

He lies and waits and lets Reaper do what he wants. Mind otherwise idle, his thoughts begin to broach the subject of what comes next. They don’t get very far. He can’t handle the idea that his ass is about to be raped by himself, let alone the increasingly evident fact that he’ll enjoy it -- at least physically. Reaper will know how to make him respond in a favorable manner. He’ll know the best way in which to leave Gabriel a destroyed, conflicted mess afterward. 

When it’s over the flanging laughter reverberates through him as his gut coils tight. As if on cue, reality comes flooding back. Humiliation and guilt and hormones wrack Gabriel to the core, making him feel like every molecule is vibrating.

“You think I’m pathetic?” Reaper plants a kiss on his hipbone, sweet and chase. “Thirty years and you’re still jerking it to the straight boy. ‘No, stop, I don’t want this.’ Bullshit. You’ve been dying for someone to come along and use you like I will. Eventually.”

Reaper climbs off the bed, and Gabriel assumes it’s to reposition them both. It’s what he would do. When he can, he likes to take his partners from behind and watch them in a mirror. Reaper will want to see Gabriel’s face when he’s fucking him. 

Then Reaper taunts, “Look at you. Shit, we look fantastic when we’re taken care of right.” His voice takes a dangerous upturn. “Think Jack’ll agree when he finds you?”

What? Gabriel searches Reaper for an explanation. He’d expected the other him to be undressing, but Reaper is moving towards to the door. Oh, no. No, no, no.

“Don’t leave me like this.” He doesn’t say please. He’s sure the crack in his voice does it for him.

With a coy chuckle Reaper answers, “Catch you next time, good looking.”

After the smoke disappears through the crack in the door Reyes musters his strength and tries the restraints again. He pulls as hard as he can, but there’s no give. Defeated, he drops his head back on the mattress and goes limp.

He’ll have to wait for Jack or Ana to come looking for him.

[thegnasticious]

Locker 0276

I’m bad with introductions so I’ll start with my name, that’s always easiest. My name is Paul Stark, I have an older brother, we call him Lou. He used to tell me a stories of the old high school, 3 years ahead of me, he saw what was the old build of the high school. Compared to the bleak white hallways, it sounded much more fun. That could've been because the beginning of construction dilapidated any sense of class structure that was left. As soon as a teacher tried to talk, a jackhammer or drill would go off outside, and as Lou put it you could always smell someone toking. He always used weird words like that around me “Toking”, and what not. I never got too much in to smoking or doing any drugs, I drank from time to time at local parties, but it didn’t do much more than spin me. Lou was different, he wasn’t just what people viewed as cool, he was the epitome of what they wanted to be. A Black leather jacket, tight expensive designer jeans, in some ways a transplant of what seemed like 80′s culture in the 2000′s. Chances were he was the guy blazing up the hallway well some horticulture class was running. He really didn’t give a shit about anything, at all. There was a rumor that he stole the running school’s supervisor, Mr. Bible’s keys. The keys accessed every part of the school. He could of stolen records, money, changed people’s grades, got every administrators password and personal info., but no, what Lou did was bring home full boxes of unopened Frito-Lay snacks and Hostess deserts. I never asked him where they came from, I kind of connected the dots later on as announcements were made and Mr. Bible was interrogating my friends. I’m pretty sure Lou threw the keys in a local watering hole, never to be found.

He did however keep one key to the old part of the school. For months he kept it secret from me, until one day I was working out after school until the late hours, and I saw him exiting one of the old locked off parts of the school. When he saw me, he took off and tried not to make eye contact with me. Later on that night I found Lou in his place in the attic, smoking something by himself. It reeked of a skunk. He didn’t seem to pay much attention to me, even as I approached right behind.

“I saw you leaving the old part of the school, Lou”, I said.

He kind of jumped as if he didn’t expect me.

“Wasn’t me. Someone else. Seeing shadows again Paul?”, He smirked and said.

“If you don’t tell me why you’re going there, I’m telling Mr. Bible where all that stuff came from and has been going. I know you still have a key” I said.

“Listen Paul, don’t go and do something like that. I’ll tell you what it is. It’s a stupid Locker, even when the old school was around it was kind of a myth. Basically one day a kid pulled at the metal in the back of his locker, one near the old swimming pool, and found a sort of cave that was technically in between the walls and corners of classrooms. Me and the boys used to go in their and smoke weed, drink, play hooky with the girls. I used to stash stuff in there. I’m trying to get it all out before I graduate. No big deal. You don’t gotta turn me in, and you don’t gotta go there. Starting your Freshman year in the shitter with a guy like me is sure to get you in trouble, so don’t say anymore stupid shit like that Paul, you’re better than that” he patted my hair and led me back down the stairs, “Don’t smoke this shit as well” he said, taking a deep inhale of a makeshift pipe.

I didn’t really idolize my Brother as much. Not as when I was younger and all of his tricks seemed unique. He was a music performer of course, and part drama guy. He was one of the most popular guys in school, I always felt like I was in his shadow, and it made it hard for me to really do anything. I was always his little dipshit brother, confused and going into the nearest fandom to delve from subversive and inevitable boredom. One morning though, things changed. I remember that morning like it was today. The sky was grey, and a soft November rain came down. It wasn’t quite hot, but it wasn’t quite cold. I rode my prototype Giant bike through the rain, blasting Interpol’s “Evil”. I’m sure it felt alot cooler than it looked. I loved biking, I’d blast by the bus, and pull right up to the metal bike racks, linking my bike with a nice sturdy lock. I walked through the halls still listening to Interpol’s antics album, volume at least at 90%. People said “Hi”, and laughed at me soaking wet, all prepared as if the day was rushing to them. I pleasantly flicked them off as I turned up the school’s stairs. As I neared my locker, something was off. For one, my iPod died, and as far as I knew it was at full charge. I looked at my locker and saw the number plate had been removed, my lock was open. There was a note on my locker, it read,

“Your locker has been switched to locker #0246. Please remove your belongings. Thank you.”

I opened the door to find my Carmen Electra pin-up ripped in pieces. Not sure what poor teacher’s assistant did this demolition job, but they had a sadistic sense of humor. 

Locker 0246 as far as I know was in the bufu sector of the school. It was this area mostly occupied by gigantic, apish seniors who would make me look like a Norwegian Dwarf(if such a thing existed). My brother was luckily nearby with his crew of skinny art club vampires who mostly scared the jocks into whatever corner was away from them. The welcoming reception wasn’t quite what I thought it would be. As I put my stuff in my locker, my Brother turned away as if he didn’t know me. Some big football player ran into me, knocking my agenda and papers on the floor. A girl nearby with red hair came and helped me gather my stuff. As she bent over to pick up my stuff, I couldn’t help but notice her well, form. She was beautiful. Unlike any girl I had ever seen before, and I was pretty sure for some reason I had seen her before. She handed me my stuff and said, “HI, I don’t think I’ve met you before, my name’s Sasha. I’m new here”.

“My name is Paul, they just switched my lockers today, I’m kind of new to this area of the school in a way”, I said and blushed. 

“Well hopefully I see you around”, she said and walked away.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. I was late to my first period class, and most of the day I spent looking out the window at the Grey sky. I would imagine a tornado coming and sending the whole class into another dimension, to just find a pissed off teacher demanding my attention. I rode back listening to Interpol again, letting the boredom of the day blend into the rain still falling. I could hear the rings of each class bell as my bike’s wheel turned through the wet, grey reflective surface of the street. In my thoughts I could see my brother accessing something in the old part of the school. Maybe what he said was bullshit. Maybe he was doing something much darker in the old part of the school.

That night, as I fell alsleep, I saw the same image of my brother in the dark of the old school. The light of his headlight lit up a cave-like passage in the back of a locker

“Come Paul” he said, motioning me to come further into the darkness. I couldn’t tell whether I was asleep or awake but I followed his commands in an autonomous manner, as if what was me was paralyzed to the directive. As he led me closer to the opening, light started to seep through, as if it was sucking in the darkness. The air around it felt light, as if gravity no longer existed. The shimmer of light came from it in a multitude of colors. Before I could step forward. a big push shoved me from behind, and within seconds I was flying through the gate. I fell from the sky at a fast speed, like a rock breaking the horizon, I could feel the open world all around me. The darkness seeped through the clouds as I fell from a bright light high above. I fell through the roof of a house, passing through the wood as if it never existed. Gravity sucked me into a big bed, I felt a budge of the springs as I slammed down I lifted my hand up, and I saw I was much bigger, a man I think. I could feel I wasn’t me, I didn’t know what it meant. As I looked around the room I could see it was alike to my childhood room. Somethings were oddly different though, just subtle placements and little differences. I knew it was my home, but it didn’t feel like it.  I got up and walked to the front door. A multitude of colors flashed at bright lights outside, like a colored lightning store. I opened the backdoor and a gust of wind knocked me back through the wooden closet door. I could feel a splinter of wood slipping into my gut. Through the explosions outside a man in black emerged.

“Come Paul”, he said and held out a skinny dark arm. I grabbed it and everything vanished, I awoke to my brother shaking me in bed.

“Come Paul. Get The fuck up you preteen. Time for your daily dosage of fuckery and shaming” he said and threw his wet, used towel on me. I threw it back at his half-naked ass. Not too long after he slammed the door, and left without me, in some car blaring music with smoke billowing out the windows. I biked alone listening to Electric Light Orchestra’s, “Telephone Line”. It was an indian summer kind of day, and the music seemed to match the mood perfectly. I thought of that girl, Sasha as I rode. She was one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen, I’m not sure if I have a thing for red-heads, but she was really making me feel that way when I thought of her. I never had much experience getting girls, or being the kind of guy who goes about getting girls, so I thought of the different ways I could approach her as I road on. I could drop my stuff in front of her, but if one purpose it would be beyond obvious, or just approach her locker, but then that would be creepy because I’d have to find her locker without her showing me. I evaluated all the faux-pas and finally came up with a sufficient method that would avoid most, highly-explosive landmines. All of this culminated to me with a bunch of dropped books in front of her locker. She gave me a very odd, creeped out look and took off without helping me. The bell rung, and I was way late for first period. I gathered my books and walked back to my new locker solemnly. As I approached it, the whole hallway was oddly empty, as if everyone had left as soon as I entered it. The numbers “0276″ stared at me in there ancient braille font. I felt mocked by it, like I had been here before, this disappointment, this disconnect, if it had number it’d be “0276″. As I opened the locker, I noticed a note on the top shelf. I unraveled it and there was two pills, the note read

“Take what you know isn’t good for you, you will find her here”.

I saw someone slip into the bathroom down aways, I’m not sure if they were watching me.

I thought about it for a few moments, these pills could be anything, literally anything, should I take them or should I not? 

For once something broke in me, and I took them with a deep swig of water from the fountain down the hall.

Every thing was normal until about 2nd period. I was listening to music in the hallway and all of a sudden, I started hearing voices, like the thoughts of people around me. As these thoughts amplified I started feeling an almost vertigo, like I was no longer me. I kept trying to snap myself back into it. “Paul you’re you”, I’d think, and I’d kind of come back to my body. I felt like a boy flying a kite of his ethereal self far above. Every so often the face of an administrator or dean would come into view, and I’d have to play me for a few seconds. But damn, by third period, people were already looking at me like death. I felt like death. My palms were sweatier than an open pipe, I could feel everything around me. I thought about the history class I had the day before, where crazy old Mr. Sanders showed the class how an LSD experiment with a US general went wrong. Did that pill have LSD in it? I could feel myself panicking, I ran to the nearest bathroom. I looked in the mirror and my pupils were almost the size of the colored part of my eyes. I felt like everyone around me knew. Some people were actually laughing at me, I think. Instead of going to my next class, I panicked and I went to the music rooms. We luckily had a hall of pianos any student could access any time basically. I snuck past the check-in guy and spent a good couple of hours playing piano. I can’t play what I played that day now, but I know it was the most beautiful music I had ever heard. Something in the melodies led me out the front doors the next period’s transition. I undid my bike and rode off into the warmth of the day. The sun glistened on me as I rode on, I headed towards the Town’s local bike path system I had rode my whole life. I melted into the niceness of the day, the nothingness of life, of breaking from the regimented schedules of bells and clicks of pens. I looked at the clerks mindlessly working jobs as I passed by and saw the significance of nothing.

It was beautiful, but it was scary, finding the colors you knew were always there. It was a different world all within Locker 0276