#and they just keep the kid locked in the attic to not bring shame on the family
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imo the only good treatment of half-elves ever was the Dragon Age âall human-elf offspring only ever have human physical traits,â 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 âbabies with the wrong number of fingers are drowned or left to die of exposure at birthâ direction, which is also wildly inconsistent with the settingâs values, or c) some secret third thing, I guess, like âelf/human offspring are themselves sterile so the genetics canât persist across generationsâ or other weird bullshit that explains why this is a thing that happens but we never see
#human families having that one cousin born with horn nubs or only four fingers#because it turns out great-grandma had a dirty little secret#and they just keep the kid locked in the attic to not bring shame on the family#or yâknow be STONED TO DEATH or something#like idk man thereâs a lot of historical precedent for how this kind of thing is treated and itâs ALL SHITTY#high salt content
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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 doesnât mind the cat bringing him dead stuff
Morticia and Gomez claimed he âstood outâ 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 âFuneralâ 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 youâre 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 donât 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 couldâve sworn it had brown hair, though.
Morticia: Oh, that was my aunt Beldamâs doll. She used it to spy on children who werenât happy at home.
Later
Coraline: Your freaky doll almsot got me killed by a witch!
Wybie: Oh, thatâs my aunt. And she wasnât 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, thereâs 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: Itâs mostly for census takers, mailmen, and door-to-door religious people trying to convert us.
Wednesday and Pugsley donât 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, heâs hesitant
Wybie: You expect me to go to some sunshine camp where everyoneâs smiling, laughing, getting tans, and spraying poor innocent mosquitoes away?
Coraline: Itâs in Gravity Falls~
Wybie: ... The town with a carnivorous lake monster and the Hide Behind? *Coraline nods* ... Iâm taking my parasol. I donât 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, whatâs your family like?
Wybie: Theyâre alright. Most of them are undertakers, the others are escaped mental patients. Thereâs 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 heâs some sort of anomaly, so he and Mabel look through the journals.
Dipper: Heâs not a vampire, or zombie. I donât think heâs 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 theyâre 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, hereâs 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 yoursâ. Itâs 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.
#mystery kids#coraline#wybie#gravity falls#psychonauts#the mystery kids#paranorman#dipper#mabel#norman#neil#lili#raz#addams family au#addams family
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Losing Touch (Bill Skarsgard x Reader)
Requested by: @skarsgardandredmayneâ Wordcount: 2228 Summary: You and your boyfriend Bill both attend Xavierâs 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 âhe needed some space for a couple of hoursâ and disappeared outside.
âWhatâs going on with him?â Your best friend asked, leaning over as you sat beside her.
âHeâs just being a stupid, insecure boy.â You said, taking your notebooks out and dropped them loudly onto your desk. His mood affected your mood - and it wasnât just because of his powers. See, Bill had the ability to alter peopleâs emotions, and he still wasnât quite in control of it. Thatâs how you knew that he was being jealous and insecure - because it had rubbed off on you. âAs if he ever has anything to worry about it.â
âRight?â Your friend agreed with you. âWhen men realize that unfounded jealousy isnât cute, well, that will be an amazing day.â
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 didnât even give you a chance to explain anything hurt a lot more than his anger at this moment. There wasnât even a confrontation - he was just angry.
âAre you alright?â 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. âIâm not posh.â You rolled your eyes although he couldnât see you. âAlright, alright. Why donât you swing by my office after you eat? I have some of those little marshmallows you like to put in your cocoa.â
âIâll bring the mugsâ 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 Charlesâs 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 wouldnât 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.
âSo you havenât told him that Iâm your cousin yet,â He said, looking perplexed. âAnd he thinks that thereâs something going on between us?â
âThatâs what Iâm getting from how heâs acting,â You said, taking a sip of your drink. âI mean, itâs never really come up in conversation. Heâs talked about his brothers before, but weâve never really gotten into the family conversation.â
âThen I suggest that you tell him as soon as possible.â
âYou donât think I should wait to see if he trusts me?â You asked, bringing up the other option that was on your mind. âI mean, yeah, youâre my cousin and weâre obviously not being inappropriate with each other. He has no reason to be jealous, even if you werenât. I havenât done anything.â
Charles rubbed his chin as he thought that over. âI 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.â
âCanât you just get into his head and tell me what the right thing to say is?â You groaned, throwing your head back dramatically. âWhatâs the use of having a telepath in the family if he canât even help me with my relationship problems?â
âHey, Iâve helped before,â Charles piped up. âRemember when I told you that the neighbor boy had a thing for you?â
âYou didnât 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.â
âWell, I didnât think that he would get that bad,â 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.
âAny wise words before I go, oh great one?â 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.
âJust tell him the truth, and listen to him. He probably has a reason for feeling the way that he does - and itâs 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.â
âI was hoping for something more along the lines of, âHeâs craving licorice so bring him some and heâll be happyâ but I guess what you said isnât that bad too.â You stretched, walked over to your cousin and kissed the top of his head. âWish me luck!â
âYouâll be fine,â Charles laughed, and you could hear him chuckling until you closed the door behind you. The halls werenât 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 Billâs. You raised your hand to knock on it, but paused, hearing a sound coming from within.
âBritish prat,â Billâs voice said. âOh, Iâm 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.â
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. âHeâs so lucky heâs in a chair or else-â
âOr else what?â 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. âAre you really talking about hurting Charles?â
âCharles,â Bill repeated, looking like he had a bad taste in his mouth. âWhat makes him so special anyway?â
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. âWell, he is incredibly intelligent, gifted, talented and-â
âIf you say handsome, Iâm never talking to you again,â Bill warned, his eyes settled on yours.
âI wasnât 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 wouldnât know.â
âYour cousin?â Bill asked, sitting down on his bed, looking at you with disbelief. âAm I supposed to just believe that?â
âI could ask him if I could rummage through the attic to find some old pictures, but Iâd hope that you would believe me. It would be nice to be trusted just a little.â You walked towards his bed and sat on the edge, then pulled up your legs to be cross-legged and facing him. âBut proof aside, Bill, baby, why are you feeling jealous? Have I done anything to make you think that I would ever cheat on you?â
âWell, no-â He said, pulling a face. He was going to say more but you quickly interrupted.
âThatâs what I thought. So this is a you issue and I want you to talk to me about it.â 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.
âCan we lay down?â 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. âI had a dream a couple of nights ago where you left me. I couldnât bear it.â
âSo instead of telling me about it, you decide to grow suspicious of my cousin?â You asked, snuggling against his chest. He breathed out calmly, and you felt his chest rise and fall underneath your friend.
âSounds stupid when you say it like that,â Bill said after a minute of thinking. âHe really is your cousin?â
âYou donât see the family resemblance?â 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.
âNot at all, and I hope I never do.â
âBut heâs so handsome,â You teased, and instantly regretted it, because he hands came up and started to ticke your sides, making you squirm with laughter. âOkay, okay, letâs not talk about him unless weâre talking about class, okay?â
âAnd no talking about any other guys either,â Bill said, sternly.
âThatâs taking it a little far, baby,â You said, running your fingers through his soft hair. âYou shouldnât be insecure at all, Iâm yours. And thatâs not going to change if I have to pair up with a boy for a project or something.â
Bill sighed, and leaned his head back against his pillow. âYouâre just too good for me.â
âSays who?â
âMyself.â
âYou really should be nicer to yourself, Bill. I promise you - youâre amazing and I wish you thought of yourself that way. I wish for a day you could see yourself as I see you.â
âToo bad your power isnât to change yourself into me,â Bill said with a smirk. âThen Iâd be seeing myself in a really weird way.â
âIâd still try to kiss you - oh and make so much trouble,â 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. âI should get going though, babe. Iâve got to work on our assignment for-â You paused before you said the name, and chose your next words carefully. âXâs class.â
âWait, what assignment?â Bill said. You got up off of him and onto your feet, adjusting your shirt where it had gotten rumpled.
âReally? You glare at him so long, you donât even pick up anything that he was saying?â 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.
âI was more focused on trying to make his brain explode.â 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. âCan you help me out?â
âAlways.â
#Bill Skarsgard#Bill Skarsgard x reader#Bill Skarsgard oneshot#celebrity#celebrity oneshots#celebrities#celebrities oneshot#oneshot#request#bills
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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 Clintâs 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 wouldnât be back for a long while.
But Natasha and Clint didnât care. They deserved this break and they were going to have it.
âI can hear you thinking.â Clint murmured, startling you out of your thoughts. Clintâs bleary eyes were attempting to focus on you as he ran his fingers through your locks. âGo back to sleep, Y/N.â
âItâs already noon, Clint.â You said, leaning into his touch. âWe have to get up at some point.â
âBut we have nowhere to be and nothing to do today.â Natasha spoke causing you to jump. Â âSo, we donât have to get up at all.â She explained with a smile.
âYour right.â You said, leaning back into Natashaâs chest. âIt feels good to not have to get up.â
âWell get used to it.â Clint said, throwing his arm over the two of you. âWe have plenty of time to do absolutely nothing.â
âI like the sound of that.â 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.
âNo, no, no, no. Stop that.â Clint said, taking the bowl away from you. âYour going to ruin it.â
âYour going to ruin it.â You repeated, trying to take the bowl back. Clint smiled and held the bowl higher over his head.
âYou canât add vodka to the brownie mixture.â He sighed, moving further away from you. âThatâs not in the recipe.â 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 youâd 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.
âIf itâs in the mix, itâs in the recipe.â You said, levitating the mixture away from Clintâs hands. âAt least thatâs how it works in my head.â
âNo powers in the kitchen.â Clint whined, giving you a pout. âThe brownies donât need vodka, donât ruin a perfectly good brownie.â
âHow about we make two boxes, one fun mix with vodka and one regular, less exciting, straight from the recipe mix?â You suggested, placing your bowl on the counter. Clint stared at you for a moment before nodding his consent.
âI can live with that. More brownies.â He said, pulling the other mix out of the cupboard.
âOh Lucky, move bud.â You exclaimed, almost tripping over the one-eyed dog. Lucky continued to follow you, repeatedly moving under your feet. âClint control your dog.â You ordered, placing the items in your hands on the counter.
âHeâs not my dog, heâs our dog.â He said, turning to you with a smile. âCan you grab me the flour?â He asked, turning back to his bowl.
âOf course.â 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 Clintâs head, covering him from head to toe.
âBabe!â He exclaimed in shock. You covered your mouth and tried to hold in the giggles threatening to escape your mouth. Eventually you couldnât hold them in and began to giggle uncontrollably.
âSorry, sweetie.â You laughed, wiping tears from your eyes. Clint narrowed his blue eyes at you before giving you a sickeningly sweet smile.
âOf course, you are. Babe you have something on your face.â Clint said, pointing to your face. He quickly grabbed his brownie mix and rushed towards you and dumped the mixture on your head.
âClint!â 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.
âNo powers in the kitchen.â 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.
âJust because you donât have any powers to use.â You snarked, throwing flour in his face.
âThatâs it.â 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.
âClint, no!â
âI was only gone for an hour.â Natasha said from the doorway, making her presence known. âHow the hell did you two cause all this?â
âTash!â You both exclaimed in surprise.
âHow long have you been standing there?â You asked, still hanging over Clintâs shoulder.
âMore than long enough.â She answered, moving into the kitchen. âWhy do you have another bowl of brownie mix?â She asked, moving over to the counter.
âWe wanted to make a normal batch and a vodka batch.â Clint explained, readjusting his grip on you.
âA vodka brownie. That wouldâve been a great treat.â 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. âItâs a shame it had to be spilled.â 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.
âY/N, what kind of husband or wife are we if we donât hug our other wife when she comes home?â Clint asked, turning to you.
âHorrible partners we are Clint.â 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.
âGross.â Natasha scowled, mock glaring at the two of you. Natasha kissed you first before doing the same to Clint. âThough that tastes nice.â 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. âYou two are cleaning this up.â
With a groan the three of you got off the ground and surveyed the kitchen as you stood.
âOh Thor, help us.â You sighed, leaving to grab the mop.
âNo Lucky, donât eat that!â
âI found it!â 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. Heâd 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.
âOh look, itâs when Clint brought Lucky home.â Natasha cooed, scratching the mutt on the head.
âYou had us from day one, Pizza Dog.â You said, playing with his paw.
âSpeaking of, do you think picked one up?â Natasha asked with a groan. âShould I text him?â
âHeâs probably already on his way back.â You said, curling into her side. âBesides itâs Clint, heâs at least bought at least three.â You added with a smile.
âFair point.â She said, wrapping her arm around you and continuing to flip through the album. âLook itâs when we went to Disney land.â
âThat was a good day, though please for me, never dye your hair black and never let Clint dye his red.â You begged, cringing slightly at the photo.
âIt was only to keep our covers.â She assured, rubbing your arm.
âGood because I love your hair like this.â You said, running your fingers through the curly red locks.
âWell I love you.â She sweetly said, kissing you on the lips.
âLove you too.â You responded as Lucky began to bark. âClintâs home.â You commented, Lucky barreling off the bed to greet the man. A quiet bark caused you and Natasha to tilt you head. âLucky?â You called questioningly.
âClint, what did you do?â 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. âClint what the hell?â Natasha sighed, staring down at the man.
âI can explain I swear.â Clint said, a guilty look adorning his face. âHe was all alone in an alley and these kids were kicking him around. He wonât cause any problems, heâs so sweet and look Lucky likes him.â
âClint, breath.â You said, interrupting the rambling man. âBring him over to the bed.â You added, gesturing him over. Clint slowly walked over to bed, puppy excitedly looking around, and passed the little dog to you. âHi there little guy.â You cooed, raising the pup closer to your face.
âHe is cute.â Natasha admitted, scratching him behind the ears. âWe still have Luckyâs old bed in the attic right?â She asked, turning to you.
âHe doesnât need a bed, he can stay right here with us.â You said, more to the beagle than Natasha.
âY/N you know we cant have a puppy in bed. Weâre not supposed to coddle them.â She sighed, shaking her head at you.
âWait, so your not mad?â Clint asked with wide eyes.
âOh no, your sleeping on the couch.â Natasha said, turning to the man. âIâve told you to stop bringing strays home.â
âBut heâs so sweet.â He attempted to defend himself. âHow can you be mad I bought him home?â
âMilo. His name is Milo.â You interrupted, not taking your eyes off Milo who was playing with Lucky.
âReally, Milo?â Clint asked, scrunching his nose at the name.
âIf you want any hope of staying in this bed tonight, you wonât say anything about his name.â You warned, narrowing your eyes at the man. Natasha smirked as Clint raised his hands in surrender.Â
âMilo it is.â He chirped, jumping off the bed. âBecause you two are the best wives a man could ask for and so accepting no matter what I do, I got you lunch.â He said, beginning to leave the room.
âIt better be pizza, Clinton.âÂ
âOf course it is, what kind of a person do you think I am? Pizza and the coffee you both like.â
âYouâre back in the bed tonight.â 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.Â
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 itâs 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 theyâd have to extend their holiday a little more.Â
Leave feedback. Leave a comment (Love those). Give it a like. Reblog it. Share with your friends. Buy me a KO-FI.Â
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
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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. Iâm uncharacteristically skipping ahead here to the 4th movie as I understand the 3rd doesnât 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, itâs 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 OâHara, no Joe Pesci, no Daniel Stern, not even a John Heard. Guess weâll just have to make do with his showing in Would You Rather? Back during Halloween. We get some familiar characters but theyâve just been re-cast. Peter McCallister was really throwing me off at first, I recognised him from something but just couldnât place it...
Holy shit, itâs 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 Kevinâs 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, youâd 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 wasnât as ubiquitous and cheap at that time.
Heâs not the only one with cool toys to play with as Dadâs new girlfriend, Natalie, has a smart house which seems pretty revolutionary for the year 2002. Like, full on smart house that doesnât 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...itâs like Alexa 15 years ahead of itâs time. Modern day Chucky would have a field day. It feels like a bit of a wasted opportunity though as itâs not really used as part of the eventual house defense. Youâd think thereâs 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, theyâre 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 arenât just any crooks, for in what is one in a long line of rehashes, itâs Marv! But no Harry, instead itâs Marvâs wife Vera tagging along. Only, Marv is dressed much more like Harry so this is really confusing. Like, thereâs 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 âMâ burned into it but of course that was Harry who scolded his hand on the heated doorknob.
I must say, thereâs 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? Thereâs 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 heâd 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 itâs actually the maid the whole time who turns out to be Marvâs mum.
I feel like this would have been a cooler plot point if theyâd 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. Heâs the reason sheâs got no grandkids!
I mean, between all the jail time and the fact he keeps going for the guys balls, whether heâs shooting them in part 1 or flying a drone into them here. In the end though itâs 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 theyâre 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 theyâd say âOh, canât get a signal down here in the cellar.â 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 canât hear him very well despite Buzz hearing him fine. Then the phoneâs battery dies despite only being in use for like 2 minutes. Bullshit, this isnât an iPhone 12 GIGAMAX or whatever the hell theyâre on nowadays where the battery runs out after 6 hours, this is the early 2000âs 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, Â 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.
Itâs cute in a way for them to bring back these characters and reference all these things from the original but itâs just lacking the heart that the first one had. Itâs called Home Alone but this isnât a home, itâs 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 peopleâs houses are decorated in media. Thereâs 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, âIf 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.â The step mother here though couldnât care less and is prepared to just throw money at the problem until Kevinâs love is bought.
Now that I think about it, itâs called Home Alone but I donât think thereâs a single point in this movie where heâs left Home Alone. Heâs 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! Iâd been safe for years but it just keeps on finding its way back to me. And they canât even do that tradition right, youâre supposed to play a foreign dubbed version! Weâve already had the French and Spanish versions, whereâs the German one?! Though the alternative universe where George isnât there to save Harry so Harry then canât save that ship full of American soldiers in WWII is probably considered the good ending there...
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#12: The Christmas that was CancelledâŚAlmost.
The Christmas that was cancelled is a well known story around our holiday table or over a few beers. Â In some ways, Iâm almost embarrassed to tell it to people outside my inner circle. Many might judge me as a bad parent or a Scrooge. Â Although it was painful at the time, I think my kids look back on it as a classic family tale. Â If not, Iâm sure they will get their revenge when Iâm old and gray and they shove me in a nursing home. Â 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 giftsâŚor 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 wasnât as clever as I thought.Â
 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, âMommy, I know Iâm not suppose to say anything, butâŚâŚâ as she hesitates to continue, âI just love the slippers you got me for Christmas!â 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 wasnât worth getting into trouble for. Â
I asked my husband for advice since he came from a family of 6 children who grew up in a very small house. Â Surely, with that many kids, he must have experienced an incident of peeking. Â To my dismay, he couldnât remember any slip ups. Â As we huddled in our bedroom in search of a plan of action, we called his father for advice. Â Surely, he would tell us a good story and offer some words of wisdom. Â After telling him about the closet fairy and the confession, we asked him, âHas this ever happened to you? Â What did you do?â Â His response, âI canât give you any advice, it never happened with our kids. Â We werenât dumb enough to store the gifts at our house. Â We always kept them at our neighborâs house a couple of doors down.â Â There it was, the cold hard facts, we were dumb parents. Â
Trying not to feel defeated, we came up with a plan to teach our girls a lesson. Â We would cancel Christmas or at least lead them to think their actions caused them to lose their gifts. Â I know, we are mean, but it seemed like a good idea at the time and we were desperate. Â 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. Â âDo you realize that peeking ruins the surprise of Christmas? Â What is the point of having wrapped presents if you know what is inside? Â Weâre calling Santa and telling him to take all the presents back since there is no point in keeping them. Â Your actions have ruined Christmas so donât expect any presents under the tree this year.â Â Yeah, I know, we went overboard. Â 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. Â Now if we can only keep a straight face, we can fool them. Â 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. Â Each day they would come home from school and check to see if any presents were under the tree. Â When the lack of gifts was questioned, I reminded them that Christmas was cancelled and the gifts were indeed sent back as promised. Â Yes, I lied. Â Yes, Iâm going to hell and Iâm driving the bus. Â
Tension mounted. Â Finally Christmas morning arrived and the tree was bare. Â No presents, no stocking stuffers, no joy. Â We managed to ruin their Christmas; shame on us. Â Later that morning, as all kids do, it was time to go outside, to play and compare gifts with the neighborhood. Â The look on their faces was almost too much to bear. Â Â How could they admit their shame and tell their friends they were so bad that they received nothing. Â Parent guilt was also becoming unbearable. Â 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. Â We couldnât stand another minute of disappointment in their eyes. Â Itâs time to turn it around and bring Christmas back.Â
 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. Â The couple across the street began to laugh and said, âOh, so you are the parents that didnât buy any gifts for your kids.â Â 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. Â How terrible of those parents to not get their kids ANYTHING. What kind of parentâs are they? Â 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. Â To our shame, we admitted to being those bad parents.Â
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 parentsâŚ.donât 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 Iâm sure when Iâm not around, she peeks.  Oh well, you canât say we didnât try. Â
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Becoming Hellâs Prince Chapter 1
I Didnât Sign Up For This (Nobody Would)
Itâs 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 couldâve sold them, but mom didnât want to.
âDad, why must I be the one to get all of her stuff from the attic?â I complained. He merely gave me a smile.
âBecause before she went, she asked us to make you do it.â
Frankly, Iâm annoyed. Anyone else could do it! Itâs not like sheâs going to rise from the dead if it wasnât me!
âWhy me?â I asked in my head, carrying a box filled with weird jewelry in it down to the basement. âThese should just stay in the attic. I mean, no one would notice them...â I look down at the box in my arms. âShame mom didnât want to sell these... Goth kids would probably go crazy for them...â
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 didnât 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.
âWas that the last one, Xhao?â Dad called out as I passed through the kitchen, barely even glancing at him.
âThat was.â I answer. âCan I stay in my room for a while?â
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.
âSure, just keep in mind that you have piano lessons tomorrow.â 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.
âYou know, he seems... off...â She said, worry laced in her voice.
âHis big sister just died. They were close, Yin.â He answered. âIt would naturally take a toll on him.
I scoff inwardly. âYeah, right. close.â The thought was bitter, hard to swallow, but true. âShe promised me. The first rule was to never break promises. She broke hers, and weâre close.?â
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.
âOw.â I wince, gently pulling said necklace out of my pocket, dangling the gem above my head. âThought it was made out of cheap plastic... Guess I was wrong.â I mumbled to myself, playing with the gem for a few minutes as light reflected off of it. âMust be some expensive thing though...â
Suddenly, the ruby started glowing. Â 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.
âPhew..â I breathe out a sigh of relief, about to collapse back into bed...
... When smoke started pouring out from the drawer.
âWhat the hell?!â 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 wasnât 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.
âWhat in the unholy name of all the devils...â 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.Â
Strange, strange voices, but oh, so familiar.
âPut it on, Xhao Yun.. You want to know what it does, right? Go on then...â It sang. âYouâre curious, arenât you...? Go on, Li Xhao Yun... Do not be afraid...â
All of a sudden, it felt like I wasnât the one controlling my body.
My hands opened the necklaceâs 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.
#story#writing prompts#writingprompts#chapter1#chapter 1#fucking hell I posted this at 2 33 am#why do I do this#oh wait#yeah#Becoming Hell's Prince#Fiction#fantasy#demons#writing
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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.
NOLANâS 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 movieâyoung, 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 thisâas 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 wayâ
âand 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 subtextâa 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 bitâfrom 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 edgesâand 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 reviewâthe 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 confusedâthose 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 notâI'm sure nerds on the argument could argue either sideâbut 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 awayâand when we finally see it, with that choice imagery, oh, lifting the little locked-away top in Mal's home and spinning itâmakes 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 thisâhow 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 itâthe 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, reallyâyou 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 himâto 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 timesâleading 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 shameâ
âexcept, 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, butâthere'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 movieâthe 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 uniqueânot quite cold-and-aloof-tragic-past type, not quite the hard-edged-bristly-loner typeâsomething 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. Â 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 movieâtons 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 âwhat happened between Cobb and Malâ 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 movieâwe 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" bitâhow 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 thingâbut (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 settingâyou 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.
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Haunt
Part 1 of a series. Multi-dimensional Reaper/Reyes selfcest. Non-con. Brief choking. Some hints at unrequited R76.
Heed the warning, yaâall. This is definitely not play or dub-con.
Something is haunting Gabrielâs base.
It was created by a chronal accelerator malfunction. Or it was brought into their world from⌠somewhere else. Winston doesnât know yet. But itâs 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 heâs being watched even when heâs alone.
The world wonât stop for one ominous specter rattling chains in Overwatchâs 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.
âYou,â a voice growls in the dark, tight, like itâs indignant. âThe leader of Overwatch. A wall full of awards and commendations in your big office. Everyone is grateful to you for keeping the peace.â
Gabriel rasps through what feels like smoke filling his lungs, choking his airways and causing his eyes to water. Thereâs no fire. Thereâs only the crushing weight on his stomach as a gaunt, twisted version of his own face stares down at him. The apparitionâs deathly pale skin seems to glow in the moonlight.
The Reaper sneers: âWhat makes you so fucking special?â
The acrid burning in his chest lifts, and Gabriel heaves his first few breaths of clean air with tears streaming down his cheeks. Heâs meant to answer. Fuck that.
âWhat are you?â he demands around the ache in his throat.
âHeh. You know what? Iâve spent years wondering that same thing. I thought I was a monster, but Iâve been watching you in this ass-backwards world. Now I know I had it all wrong.â The assailant rakes metal claws down his neck hard enough to sting the skin, and he starts to chuckle darkly. âTurns out Iâm just the victim of circumstance. You came heads-up in the coin toss, but somebody else had to lose. A counterbalance for the universeâs sake. You got to be the hero, so I had to become this.â
The thing is insane. Gabriel doesnât 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.
âWhat is it you want?â 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.
âHaven't seen McCree in your inner circle. Whereâd he end up?â
What? Gabriel frowns, mind scrambling. He doesnât⌠wait. Wait a minute. McCree was the name of that Deadlock punk Morrison collared on a raid. Thereâd 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.Â
Christ, that had been, what? Fifteen years ago?
âRotting in a hole somewhere, if heâs still alive,â he answers in hopes that the revelation will hurt. On the contrary, the Reaperâs lips draw into a cruel smile.
âIn your world thereâs no McCree and Ziegler's dead? You just keep winning.â A clawed finger gently taps the tip of Gabrielâs nose. âJustice would be killing you and assuming whatâs rightfully mine. Since I canât get that Iâll settle for ruining you.â
In a quick movement Reaper tears Gabrielâs 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 canât take it.
âWhen I get a hold of you youâll be begging me to let you die,â 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.
âIâm going to ride you until you forget what itâs like not to have me in your hole. But Iâm not a complete monster. Iâll make you a deal: Apologize now and Iâll face you down while I fuck you. You can bury your shame in the pillows if you want.â
âI never did shit to you!â And though the last thing his training would advise is to antagonize his captor, Gabriel spits, âYou ever consider the reason youâre like this is because youâre a pathetic psychopath?â
He waits to be hit or choked with the smoke again, but the Reaper has his patience.Â
âThat brave face? I canât wait to see it crumble.â
Something in Reyes flies of itâs hitch and flails wildly, reaching for an explanation. Whatâs 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. Itâs how they got Angela. Maybe they hit him with some neurotoxin, and now Gabrielâs traumatizing himself with a self-crafted hallucination? Itâs 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 Reaperâs touch leaves him with a crawling feeling. The bed shifts with his dopplegangerâs weight, and then Reaper is straddling Gabriel at the knees. Heâs now missing a glove. Gabriel doesnât know if he took it off or if it simply vanished.
The hand on his dick feels unnaturally cool. He cringes at the sensation.
âSay you want me.â
âGo to hell.â He doesnât want this. He turns stiff in Reaperâs firm strokes, but itâs only a physical reaction. He canât help it.
âYou donât have to pretend. Iâm you. I know all the filthy, dirty fantasies you donât want to own.â
âYou are nothing like me.â
Reaper grins and leans down. Gabriel turns away when the pale tongue laps over the head of his dick.Â
âSorry, jefe, but you and I? Weâre only removed by a sequence of events.â To punctuate the thought, Reaper plunges half-way down Gabrielâs length and whorls his tongue around the shaft. Gabriel grunts. The mouth around him isnât hot like it should be, but itâs not uncomfortable enough to turn him off. Reaperâs lips pull off him with a wet pop. âHm. He didnât stab you in the back, and McCreeâs not around, so I bet youâre even still pining after the boy scout.â
Gabriel doesnât respond. Silence is evidently enough of an answer for Reaper. Heâs back to sucking on Gabrielâs cock, teasing him exactly how he likes. Exactly how heâd imagined Jack doing when he was alone and torturing himself, dreaming about things heâd never have.Â
"Stop,â he mutters when the feeling of Reaperâs sucking him off blends with the image of Jackâs blonde hair between his legs, and then the line gets confused.
Reaper doesnât stop. He knows how this fantasy plays out. Jack, hesitating for a thousand reasons, would finally give in because itâs Gabriel. It would be slow as Jack tested his lips over the first cock heâd ever wanted in his mouth. And as Gabrielâs shaft was rocked over the back of his tongue, those bright blue eyes would look up to him for approval.
âI-uhn. Hmph.â Gabriel squeezes his eyes closed and pretends not to hear Reaperâs satisfied hum, even as it does incredible things to him.
Morrison would grow bolder with success, of course. Heâd 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 Gabrielâs cock bumping his soft pallet. A palm slides up the inside of Gabrielâs 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. Donât stop, babe. Please. God, itâs been so long...
As long as he keeps his eyes closed itâs Jack blowing him. As long as he keeps his eyes closed itâs okay if he comes deep in the throat of whoeverâs on top of him, because heâs thinking about Jack and thatâs acceptable.Â
Itâs fast and itâs sloppy and itâs 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. Heâd work the Blackwatch commanderâs mouth until heâd 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 subordinateâs face and groans, âMph, Jack.â
Thatâs 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.
Itâs a frantic moment. Itâs painful, but itâs also... oh, oh shit. Gabriel looks down and locks eyes with Reaper, still throat-deep on his cock, and thatâs when he breaks. He tries to hold it back. He tries to stop it because itâs not Jack anymore; itâs this sick, conniving version of himself-
âFuck! Fuck, no! Damn it!â he howls as he starts to come, furious at his own bodyâs 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 didnât want this. He didnât want this. So why is it so goddamn good?
He canât see his cock with the armor, but Gabriel knows that the Reaper is just as turned on as he is. He takes his victimâs 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 thereâs nothing left in him. His will to fight drains from him. Gabriel is sapped and more defeated than heâs ever been.
The Reaper looks up and their eyes make contact again. Reaper winks. Gabriel gets the feeling his should look away, but he doesnât.Â
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 donât get very far. He canât handle the idea that his ass is about to be raped by himself, let alone the increasingly evident fact that heâll enjoy it -- at least physically. Reaper will know how to make him respond in a favorable manner. Heâll know the best way in which to leave Gabriel a destroyed, conflicted mess afterward.Â
When itâs 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.
âYou think Iâm pathetic?â Reaper plants a kiss on his hipbone, sweet and chase. âThirty years and youâre still jerking it to the straight boy. âNo, stop, I donât want this.â Bullshit. Youâve been dying for someone to come along and use you like I will. Eventually.â
Reaper climbs off the bed, and Gabriel assumes itâs to reposition them both. Itâs 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 Gabrielâs face when heâs fucking him.Â
Then Reaper taunts, âLook at you. Shit, we look fantastic when weâre taken care of right.â His voice takes a dangerous upturn. âThink Jackâll agree when he finds you?â
What? Gabriel searches Reaper for an explanation. Heâd expected the other him to be undressing, but Reaper is moving towards to the door. Oh, no. No, no, no.
âDonât leave me like this.â He doesnât say please. Heâs sure the crack in his voice does it for him.
With a coy chuckle Reaper answers, âCatch you next time, good looking.â
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 thereâs no give. Defeated, he drops his head back on the mattress and goes limp.
Heâll have to wait for Jack or Ana to come looking for him.
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Locker 0276
Iâm bad with introductions so Iâll start with my name, thatâs 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 âTokingâ, 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 didnât do much more than spin me. Lou was different, he wasnât 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 80â˛s culture in the 2000â˛s. Chances were he was the guy blazing up the hallway well some horticulture class was running. He really didnât give a shit about anything, at all. There was a rumor that he stole the running schoolâs supervisor, Mr. Bibleâs keys. The keys accessed every part of the school. He could of stolen records, money, changed peopleâs 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. Iâm 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 didnât seem to pay much attention to me, even as I approached right behind.
âI saw you leaving the old part of the school, Louâ, I said.
He kind of jumped as if he didnât expect me.
âWasnât me. Someone else. Seeing shadows again Paul?â, He smirked and said.
âIf you donât tell me why youâre going there, Iâm telling Mr. Bible where all that stuff came from and has been going. I know you still have a keyâ I said.
âListen Paul, donât go and do something like that. Iâll tell you what it is. Itâs 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. Iâm trying to get it all out before I graduate. No big deal. You donât gotta turn me in, and you donât gotta go there. Starting your Freshman year in the shitter with a guy like me is sure to get you in trouble, so donât say anymore stupid shit like that Paul, youâre better than thatâ he patted my hair and led me back down the stairs, âDonât smoke this shit as wellâ he said, taking a deep inhale of a makeshift pipe.
I didnât 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 wasnât quite hot, but it wasnât quite cold. I rode my prototype Giant bike through the rain, blasting Interpolâs âEvilâ. Iâm sure it felt alot cooler than it looked. I loved biking, Iâd 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 Interpolâs antics album, volume at least at 90%. People said âHiâ, 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 schoolâs 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,
âYour locker has been switched to locker #0246. Please remove your belongings. Thank you.â
I opened the door to find my Carmen Electra pin-up ripped in pieces. Not sure what poor teacherâs assistant did this demolition job, but they had a sadistic sense of humor.Â
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 wasnât quite what I thought it would be. As I put my stuff in my locker, my Brother turned away as if he didnât 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 couldnât 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, âHI, I donât think Iâve met you before, my nameâs Sasha. Iâm new hereâ.
âMy name is Paul, they just switched my lockers today, Iâm kind of new to this area of the school in a wayâ, I said and blushed.Â
âWell hopefully I see you aroundâ, 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 bikeâs 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
âCome Paulâ he said, motioning me to come further into the darkness. I couldnât 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 wasnât me, I didnât 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 didnât feel like it. Â 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.
âCome Paulâ, he said and held out a skinny dark arm. I grabbed it and everything vanished, I awoke to my brother shaking me in bed.
âCome Paul. Get The fuck up you preteen. Time for your daily dosage of fuckery and shamingâ 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 Orchestraâs, âTelephone Lineâ. 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 Iâve ever seen, Iâm 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 Iâd 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 â0276âł 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 itâd be â0276âł. As I opened the locker, I noticed a note on the top shelf. I unraveled it and there was two pills, the note read
âTake what you know isnât good for you, you will find her hereâ.
I saw someone slip into the bathroom down aways, Iâm 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?Â
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. âPaul youâre youâ, Iâd think, and Iâd 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 Iâd 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 canât 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 periodâs 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 Townâs 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
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