#and while this is not leaning too hard into messy horror it IS hilarious and a little much of everything

[basilone]

I have a spooky season fic coming your way hopefully this week, courtesy of a prompt @flipfloplogic handed me a while ago, and I am very excited about it in advance! 😊

The real question is: can I keep this short enough for Tumblr or must I plague AO3 with this AU?

[itisannak]

Car Sex (Luke Hemmings Smut)

Summary: Luke and (Y/N), both college students, living with their parents, have to get creative to find some alone time. (Smut / Unprotected Sex /  Penetrative Sex / Public Sex / Creampie) (Words: 5.4k) (Request)

"Be back by 11:30." My dad shouts as I run down the stairs, heading to the door. "The movie ends at 12." I remind him, sighing over how strict he becomes when he knows I am going out with Luke. "12 it is then." He replies, peeking at me from his armchair. "I don't have classes tomorrow... And teleportation had yet to be invented last time I checked." I point out, crossing my arms before my chest. "Smarty-pants. If he brings you home a minute after 12:30, you are grounded." My dad tries to sound tough, but he is a big softie. I rush to him, leaving a peck on his cheek before strutting out of the door.

Luke has been waiting long enough in the car, longer than I would have the patience to wait for someone without pressing my hand on the horn. I did not expect to see him inside the parked pick-up park, but here I am, opening the passenger door to join him inside. "Wow, that is a first..." I comment, pressing my lips together to stop my laughter as soon as I am in. I just picture him as a hillibilly, chewing on a hay straw, and the mental image is enough to make me double over in laughter. "Shut up. My brother lent me it for the night." He explains, pulling out of the driveway. "Why does your brother have a truck?" I ask, pulling the seatbelt to fasten myself. "He works in constructions." He replies, turning his head for a quick peck on my forehead. "Right." I mumble. "What time does your curfew start?" He asks me, shifting the gears. "I have to be home at 12.30, not a minute later. It still fucks me up that I still have a curfew at 19 and you don't." I groan, crossing my arms. Luke shrugs, having a charming little smirk decorating his lips. "My parents had enough of setting rules for disobeying teenagers with my brothers, so I guess I had it easy, they never bothered placing one." He comments as I prop my elbow against the window's frame, supporting my head as I look at him. "There is no way your mother is that elastic with you. I had chills every time I walked into her class in high school." I really do exasperate, earning a laugh from Luke. I love it when he laughs; his face brightens up, and his dimples make him really irresistible, along with the crinkles around his eyes. I reach over, stroking a messy curl with my fingers, before pushing it off his forehead. "She is much chiller when you get to know her." He replies, resting his hand on my thigh. "I guess you are right." I sigh, feeling jittery at the way he touches me. "Pity I will have to take you home straight after the movie. I was hoping for some more time with you." He says in a low voice, almost like he fears getting heard. "It has been too long since the last time we had more time together." I reply. It would be a lie if I said I am not actively craving him. I still dream of his touch, the way he kissed me last time, the way he moved against me. "To be clear, I am talking about having sex." He explains and I chuckle, throwing my head back. "I am talking about having sex too, Luke." I reply, making him hum, pleased by my response. "We gotta do something about the housing situation." He sounds determined, which is just hilarious at this point. "Well, we are broke, college students who can only afford to live with their parents. I don't know if there is much we can do about it at this point." I reply, while his hand squeezes my inner thigh. "I am just... I just need more of you." He groans and I hum, feeling my stomach tighten at his words. "Can we talk about the movie? This is becoming... A little too intense for me." I bite my bottom lip, running my fingers through my hair. "Of course. They are showing the Texas Chainsaw Massacre." He states, letting his touch linger for a little longer before he removes his hand. I press my thighs together, trying to relieve some of the tension between them. It is hard for me to take my mind off Luke being inside me, kissing me, touching me, even with the prospect of watching a movie about cannibalistic psychopaths. "Why do you always pick horror movies for date night?" I groan, nudging his shoulder. "Because you always leave me in charge. And because the gore is the only thing stopping me from fantasizing about you." He replies, taking my hand in his and bringing it to his lips. "You fantasize about me?" I ask, feeling the tingly sensation making its way back. "All the time. My thoughts are just a never-ending movie of things I want to do with you... of things I want to do to you. And I am just trying to find ways to just pause that movie for a while." He admits. "Is the movie playing right now?" I ask, flushing as I wait for him to tell me. "You wanna know?" He asks and I nod at him, knowing my eyes are glistening with excitement. "Right now it shows the scene where it is Sunday morning, and we have just woken up, naked in bed. And I am just taking you in, in all your glory." He replies. "You are definitely giving me the PG-13 version right now." I point out and he shrugs. "I am keeping some of the good stuff for a little later." He winks at me, causing me to bite the inside of my cheek.

We purchase some popcorn and sodas from the drive-through kiosk before Luke finds the spot we are supposed to park. The back of the pick-up truck is facing the screen, which means we will have to get out of the car and climb onto the back. "I really want to see you try to get in the back, wearing that dress." Luke comments, picking up the snacks and getting out of the car. "I know you want to peek under my skirt, but gosh, don't be so obvious about it." I chuckle, hopping off the car. Luke waits for me in the back of the truck, holding his connected palms low, so I can step on them and go up the cargo bed. "You are a true gentleman..." I comment, leaving a peck on his cheek, before I step on his hands and he boosts me up. "Need help?" I ask him once I land just right. "I got it. Lay the blanket I have in there. And move the snacks, I don't want to knock them." He instructs, stepping onto the rim under the taillights. I hold the snacks tight as he steps in, dusting himself off. "This is actually nice." I admit, laying one of the blankets for us. "See? That will teach you not to laugh at me before you see my intentions." He comments, sitting down on the blanket, with his back against the divider. "You should be happy I am laughing. It means you make me happy." I reply and he hums. I take a seat between his thighs, leaning my head back on his shoulder, bringing my lips to his neck for a soft peck. "I promise to hold you tight at the scary parts." I whisper, knowing that I will spend the entirety of this movie with my face buried in his chest. "I will hold you up to that." He chuckles, leaving a peck on my forehead.

The night chill proves I am a fool for wearing a frilly little dress for the night screening. But luckily, Luke has predicted that and has brought a second blanket along, which now is covering our laps. "You look mighty cute in the cinema lights." Luke whispers, stroking my hair softly. "You are supposed to be focusing on the movie, not me." I laugh, trying to keep my voice low so I don't bother the rest of the viewers. "You are far more interesting than any movie." He replies, turning my head to plant a kiss on my lips. I smile against his lips, parting my mouth so he can slip his tongue past my lips. His hand softly grazes my face, and I then decide to turn around and straddle his lap. "You can't do that to me." He groans, throwing his head back. That gives me access to his neck, which I take advantage of and trail with kisses. "Why not?" I ask, pouting at him. "(Y/N), please... This is torturing. It has been too long since we had sex. I am craving you, and this is not helping me." He replies, while my hands move to his hair. "I am craving you too. I need you." I whine, earning a sigh. "I need you too. But we don't have the time nor the place to do that." He replies, and I shake my head. "What about right here, right now?" I ask, making him tilt his head and look at me, with eyes glazed in excitement. "You mean...?" "Who's going to see us? And don't say the movie is more interesting than me..." "Fuck the movie." He groans, bringing his hand to trace my thigh, stopping on the hem of my dress. "I'd rather you fuck me." I reply, earning a smirk from him. "This is risky." He comments and I shrug. "You love it, don't you?" I ask and he hums. He throws the lap blanket aside, laying me with my back on the blanket laid on the floor of the cargo bed. "You will have to be very quiet..." He states, stroking my cheek softly. "You are the one to talk..." I mumble before he leans down to kiss me.

He clumsily fumbles with the lap blanket, covering us for a mock discreteness, even though we both know a blanket will do nothing. He roams his hands from my face to my sides and then retires them on my thigh. I prop my leg up, wrapping it around his waist. "You are so soft." He moans against my mouth, squeezing my thigh softly. My lips curl into a smile, feeling goosebumps crawl onto my skin. "Oh shit." He groans, making me look at him with a furrow on my brow. "What? What happened?" I ask, watching as his face twists in frustration. "Condoms are in the glove compartment. I have to go back in the car." He groans, throwing his head back. "It is ok... We don't need one." I state, feeling my core becoming warm at the thought of him sliding inside me bare. "Are you sure about this?" He asks me and I nod. "It is not a risky day. I need you." I almost beg, causing him to chuckle at me, as his hands work his pants to free his cock. "I will just... Push your panties aside... No one will know what we are doing." He mutters, spreading my legs more, propping them around his waist. Blindly and clumsily, he tries to line up his tip to my entrance. The only lights come from the light poles around the parking space, and of course, the projector playing the movie, so there is almost only darkness surrounding us. Luke finally manages to slip inside me, moving slowly so the car doesn't rattle and bring any suspicion on us. "Shit, you feel good." He whispers by my ear, planting a peck on my earlobe. He buries his face in my neck, nibbling on my skin as he begins rocking his hips on mine. It takes me a moment to get my mind off the catastrophic thought that we are going to get caught, but the moment the first moan slips from his lips, I feel chills crawl down my spine. "Oh, God." I mumble, finally feeling his cock stretching me, with each thrust making me wetter and wetter. "Shh, we have to be quiet, remember?" He playfully reminds me, passing his tongue over the spot he was sucking on a second ago. "Buzzkiller." I whisper, but it soon turns into a gasp as he thrusts his whole cock inside me, making me pulse around him. I have to bring my hand to my mouth as Luke backs out and thrusts in again, this time with more force than before. I bite onto my palm, preventing myself from making a sound as Luke tries to find a rhythm for us. We both know this cannot last as long as the last time did; in contrast to the time we stayed up all night fucking, we will now have to be done in less than 10 minutes. "The way you take my cock is going to be the death of me." He mumbles as I buck my hips up to meet his thrusts, trying to find an angle for his cock to hit my spot. Luke groans softly, placing a hand under the small of my back to support me. "We are fucking under the stars." I giggle softly, squeezing myself around him. "I am going to find us a house, I promise you that." He slams his hips on mine, making the car move a little. "Careful." I groan, but the way he is rocking his hips on mine makes my mind fuzzy around the edges. We have to pray the people around us are too focused on the movie, or else we are putting on a show for them. Luke brings on hand from under my back to my cheek, touching it softly. "You feel so good around me, baby." He says raspily as I move my hips in a soft circle. The top of his cock brushes against my clit and I feel myself tighten around him. I muffle a whimper, closing my eyes tightly to focus on anything else but the way he feels inside me. "I can feel you here." I grab his hand and let it press on my lower stomach, right at the nook where I feel the impact of his thrusts. Luke strokes his thumb over that spot, giving me a slow, deep thrust, looking mesmerized by the way my stomach inflates and falls as he fucks me. His hand travels under my dress, heading straight to my breasts, cupping them and stroking his thumbs over my nipples. I whimper and shudder, bucking my hips against his and taking his cock more inside me. "You are going to fuck yourself on my cock, princess?" He asks cockily, pinching my nipple between his fingers, pulling at it sadistically slow. "Will you fill me up, daddy?" I ask him back; two can play this game. I can see his eyes sparkle at my question, even in the dark night. "Shit, (Y/N)... I am going to cum..." Luke groans by my ear, making me tighten around him in surprise. "Cum, please. I want to feel all of you inside me..." I groan, my mind becoming clouded by my need for him. "But you are not there yet..." Luke protests. "You have a mouth, don't you?" I ask him, heaving for breath. Luke chuckles and looks at me amused, before slamming his hips on mine, pinning me down to ravage me. Luke brings his face to my neck, muffling himself by biting onto my skin. I gasp in shock, the slight sting of pain sending waves of electricity down my body. "I am going to fucking wreck you... I am going to fucking ruin you for everyone else. You are mine... Just mine. " He groans, gluing his hips on mine as he cums, hissing as he reaches his high. It takes him a moment of grunting and breathing funny before he cups my face and kisses me harshly. "I am going to make you feel good, princess. I promise." His voice is still heavy and groggy from his orgasm, and he sounds so chillingly sexy, contrasting the loud chainsaw buzzing that goes off every couple of minutes in the movie.

He parts from my lips and slides down my body, spreading my legs more and fixing himself between my thighs. He traces my slit softly, watching me as I still pulse from the loss of contact. He uses his fingers to part my lips, revealing my entrance and my clit to him. He wastes no time lapping up his tongue on my sex, moaning as he tastes us mixing together. I smile to myself and look up at the night sky, taking in the pretty little stars as Luke curls his tongue on my entrance, gathering the pooling wetness and his cum on the tip of his tongue. He brings the tip to my clit, teasing it in slow, agonizing circles, making me jolt at every single one of them. Once he sees I am teased to a sufficient level for his liking, he wraps his lips around my clit, suckling on it hungrily. My breath gets caught in my lungs and I am baffling between bringing my hand to my mouth to stop any sounds from escaping or tangling my fingers in his hair, pulling at his locks, and guiding his mouth where I need him. "Luke..." I whine, messing my fingers in his hair, contrasting the intensity that courses through my body with the softness of his curls. Luke hums in approval, flicking his tongue against the head of my clit. I press my lips together and roll my hips in the air as my orgasm explodes inside me, spreading on my body. I try my hardest not to make a sound, nor move too much that the car squeaks. Luke moves up from between my thighs after he fixes my panties over my core. He leans in, kissing my lips softly. I realize that I have been smiling since I hit my orgasm, but only after Luke mimics my smirk. "I am going to find us a house." He announces again, tracing his hand softly over my cheek. "Yeah, we need one." I agree, moving my tongue across my bottom lip, tasting us together. "Do you think anyone saw us?" Luke asks, rolling next to me. I fix my head upon his chest, letting myself hear his heartbeat. "As long as we do not end up on a pornsite, I am not that mad if they did." I reply and he chuckles. "Kinky... I like that about you." "You like what about me?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow. "You are always up for testing your limits." He replies and I hum. "I wish we could sleep together tonight." He sighs, pecking at the top of my head. "I think my dad will neuter you if you show up at my house for a sleepover. And your mom will probably bound me in your basement and torture me for seducing her benjamin." I giggle and he scoffs. "My mom is not a monster." Luke protests playfully. "I don't know. Her nickname was Charybdis in high school." I mumble and he punches my arm playfully.

"Will you call me before bed?" Luke asks me as he parks in front of my house. "Do you want me to?" I ask him, undoing my seatbelt. "Since I can't sleep with you tonight, at least I would like us to do it over facetime." He shrugs, tapping the tip of my nose softly. "I will certainly facetime you then. I will see you on Tuesday, won't I?" I ask and he nods. "Ok then. Talk to you in a bit." I bite my lip before I lean in to plant a soft peck on his lips. He waits until I am inside the house to take off, which brings a smile to my face. He cares a lot and he is really protective, without crossing any boundaries. "Did you have fun at the movies?" My dad asks, making me jump at the sound of his voice. He has stayed exactly where I left him, which is a little creepy. "You scared the shit out of me, dad." I gasp, touching my chest and feeling my heart pounding. "We saw the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Not really my style, but it was ok." I reply and he hums. "If you wake up screaming in the middle of the night because you had a nightmare, I will know who to blame." He goes back to watching TV. It is not a secret that my dad does not really like Luke; he thinks of him as a devil in the disguise of an angel. "Goodnight dad." I run up the stairs to take off my makeup and get ready for my night call with Luke.

I tap my fingers nervously as I wait for Luke to pick me up. We are supposed to head for a dinner date, but I am not sure we will go through with it. Luke's car pulls up in front of me, and I rush inside, earning a look of surprise from him. "I was ready to wait for you at least 15 more minutes." Luke chuckles, helping me with my seatbelt. "Can you find a space somewhere a bit private?" I ask him, earning a hum from him. "I will be happy to..." He starts the car, aloof to my jitters.

Luke parks behind an elementary school, which seems abandoned for the day, before he undoes his seatbelt and turns to look at me. "It will do for now, don't you think?" Luke asks, cocking an eyebrow at me. "We need to talk." I state, making his face drop. "Oh. That sounds a little ominous." He replies and I nod my head. "I am late." I just let it out, dropping the bomb on his lap now. "Late for what? Do you have to be somewhere before our date?" He asks. I roll my eyes and rest my head back on my seat. "Luke..." I sigh. "What?" He asks, frustrated over my reaction. "My period is late. I might be pregnant." I explain and he looks at me dumbfounded. "Are you sure?" He manages to utter after a second of just staring. "My tracker says I am a week late. And I am never late, not this long. I am freaking out." I sniffle, my hands bunching up my cardigan. Luke stays silent, starting the car again. I feel awful in this silence but I understand he needs time to process it. It took me two days to swallow this, he deserves at least a couple of minutes to even begin thinking about it. It itches me on the inside to just ask him to say anything, but I decide to control myself. Without a word, he parks the car in front of a pharmacy and exits the car. It would make more sense for him to slam the door on the way out, but he didn't. I cannot find a way to translate his coldness and it pains me to sit here without a clue. He is gone for a little over 10 minutes but it felt a century to me. I don't dare ask him what he bought, so the car sinks in silence again.

The next stop is at a totally strange house to me. Luke helps me undo the seatbelt, still silent, and motions me to follow him. He unlocks the door to an apartment, letting me go in first. "What is this place?" I finally have the courage to ask once we enter the poorly furnished place. "I told you I would find us an apartment. I wanted to tell you at dinner, but I guess..." He replies, handing me the paper bag from the pharmacy. "Is it what I think it is?" I ask and he nods. "Luke, I am scared." I admit and he sighs. He wraps his arms around me, pressing his lips softly on my forehead. "I am too. But we need to face our fear. Or it will catch upon us." He replies, stroking a piece of hair behind my ear. "Come on. I will be right outside." He guides me to the small bathroom, giving me a small smile before I shut the door. It is such a lonely process doing this. I know Luke is waiting for me, I know that he is here for me, right outside the door that divides us, but I feel so alone. It is nerve-wracking, having to wait even a moment for the test that will define the rest of my relationship with Luke. There is a soft knock on the door, Luke's knuckles must barely even touch the wooden furniture. "Did you do it?" He asks nervously, but not demandingly. "I am waiting for the result." I sniffle. "Would you like me to come in and wait with you?" He asks. "No. I will be out in a minute..." I am too upset myself to have Luke's nervousness right now. "Ok, love." He sighs, giving up. I know he is trying to comfort me and this is the best way he can think of doing so, but it is just... I don't know if it is too much or too little.

The timer goes off and I know that I have to face the little plastic stick at last. It is so stupid that I am terrified by a piece of plastic, but I feel a tug at my heartstrings just at the thought of what the result might be. I peek at it, finding the word 'PREGNANT' on the little digital screen. Fuck. "Can I come in?" Luke asks. He must have heard the timer too so he knows the test has shown a result. I am too emotional to answer him, all I want to do is cry. How did that happen? Fuck, why did it happen now? We were always careful and we barely ever had a place to be just the two of us. God, that night at the drive-in... I was stupid enough to tell him it didn't matter going bare. Luke barges into the bathroom after my lack of response, his eyes instantly falling on me. He sighs understandingly, moving closer to me and wrapping his arms around me. "It's ok... It's all ok, love. Please, stop crying." He tries to soothe me, but it will take more than a hug and his soft voice to calm me down. "I've ruined both our futures..." I moan, my voice barely coming off. "No, no, you didn't. It is my fault too. Hey, we are going to be alright. She's gonna be apples, you'll see." He cheers, rubbing the small of my back soothingly.

My obstetrician could only see me 2 days after I took the test. Despite me wanting to rush to the first person with an available appointment, Luke told me that 2 days wouldn't hurt and we should go to the one I trust. And now as I am feeling in the form of family history and reason of the visit, Luke is sitting next to me, almost completely unfazed, as if his life is not about to tumble down. "How can you be so calm?" I ask him, annoyed by how cool he seems. "I am not." He replies, not even turning to look at me. "You are. You are awfully calm and cool for someone who is going to be a father before he finishes college." I whisper the last part, even though it is just us in the waiting room. I have been tiptoeing around admitting my pregnancy, not even daring to say it to myself out loud. "You think I am not panicking? You think I am not about to have a nervous breakdown? But I have to keep calm and be here for you. You are a mess, (Y/N)." He says through gritted teeth. "Well, I am sorry this is too much for me. I will try my hardest not to let my mess affect you." I snap, moving to a chair away from him. "I didn't mean it that way..." He protests and I hum, scribbling on the form fast.

The doctor calls me in her office, finally ready to exam me. Luke follows suit, asking her if it is ok to join us too. "Is it ok with you, (Y/N)?" She turns to me. "I really couldn't care less." I mumble, climbing onto the exam bed. Luke walks in, standing in the corner of the room awkwardly. "I will need you to take your jeans and underwear off for this." She instructs me and I nod. "Your urine sample gave us a positive pregnancy test, so I will have to go transvaginally to see the fetus. We have done this in the past, but you will feel slight discomfort when I enter the prob." She states, prepping the little wand. I feel as if I want to throw up, this ordeal has been stressing me out a lot. "Ok. Are you ready?" She asks as I lay on my back. I nod my head and take a deep breath, boosting myself for the exam. Pushing past the initial discomfort, I turn to look at my doctor as she looks at the screen with a frown. "Do you have any symptoms?" She asks me, looking at the ultrasound carefully. "No, other than my period being late, no." I reply and she hums. "You took a home test?" "Yes, it came back positive. Is everything ok?" I ask her. "Well, you are not pregnant. But you have a positive home test and a urine stip test. So my guess is there is proteinuria and that is why we had 2 false positives. I will order you a lab work for that, just to rule things out, but I think it might be stress-related." She replies. "I am not pregnant?" I ask, my heart skipping in relief. "You are not." She replies. "Are you sure?" Luke asks for the first time since the exam started. "I am very certain you are not expecting. Based on your reactions I will say congratulations, you are not pregnant." She chuckles, handing me a couple of tissues to clean up. "I will leave you to get dressed and go order the lab test. You can pick it up from my receptionist." She smiles at us before she leaves the room.

After the doctor's visit, I was craving ice cream, so Luke drove me to my favorite place for a strawberry soft serve. Since our date night was canceled from my pregnancy scare, we decided to take advantage of the nice weather and take a stroll at the park. He holds my hand in his as we both lick our ice cream as if the last couple of days didn't happen. "We are not having sex again without a condom." I lean my head on his shoulder as he hums in agreement. "That is certain." He adds. "I am sorry I was so... messy the last couple of days." I apologize and he shrugs. "It is one of the things I love about you." He brings my hand to his lips, pecking it lightly. "For what is worth, you were an excellent partner and you handled this scare probably the best way possible." I comment and he sighs. "I was scared beyond words. We are too young to become parents." "I agree. We barely have a place to be alone..." I point out. "Well, we do have it, though." He says, making me bite the inside of my cheek. "I really liked the space, from what I remember seeing..." "I am glad you did. Cause I plan on spending a lot of time in it with you." He plants a kiss on my forehead, making me feel my face get hot. "We never learn, do we?" I chuckle and he shrugs. "I think we learned our lesson." He takes a long lick of his dessert.

My Masterlist  /  Chronological Masterlist  /  The "Less than 100 Notes Fics" Masterlist  /  My Ko-Fi

[uppermocns-moved]

𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀

eren, connie, armin, levi, jean + headcanons about your first date

cw: modernverse, gender-nonspecific 

𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻 𝗷𝗮𝗲𝗴𝗲𝗿

picks you up in the afternoon and greets you with a lil wave as you walk to his car 

lets you plug your phone into the aux cord as a romantic gesture

it’s a casual date so he’s wearing something like a graphic tee, cuffed black jeans, skate shoes, and a jacket tossed into the backseat incase it gets cold. maybe a couple rings and a hair tie around his wrist.

you do something fun and goofy like go to one of those paint-a-ceramic places and paint something for each other 

it’s funny watching eren concentrate so hard to make his look good – his hair is tied into a messy half-bun to stay out of his face his eyebrows are furrowed and his tongue is slightly poking from the corner of his mouth. 

both pieces turn out hilariously bad but you cherish them for the rest of your life.

it’s the kind of date that you don’t want to end, so you just hop from one thing to another until it’s late and he’s gotta take you home. 

he’d definitely hold your hand (fingers interlocked) and swing it while you walk

he would also take a cute mirror selfie of the two of you and put it on his story, not scared to show off his cute date and the content smile on his face

doesn’t mind kissing on the first date but follows your lead entirely – if you wanna wait, that’s fine. if you wanna take the car to a scenic lookout and make out in the back seat, that’s cool too.  

you definitely steal a kiss before getting out of his car and he’ll tell you to text him when you get in safe 

bonus second date – picnic at a park. eren picks a flower and tucks it into your hair. 

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿

he picks you up at night to go do something energetic and fun, like grabbing dinner before you go bowling 

(bonus points if you both suck at it – then you can use the bumpers and have an equal advantage) 

it’s casual so he’s wearing a tee shirt tucked into jeans, sneakers, and a chain. maybe a flannel/dark denim jacket over the top but it stays in the car. 

connie makes you laugh with all the weird ways he launches the ball down the lane

definitely slips over the line and face plants at some point

afterwards, you spend a couple hours in the arcade playing skeeball and he shows you how he can always get the jackpot in stacker. 

taking cute pictures in the photobooth (he puts them on his story and keeps his copy in his phone case) 

not much affection is exchanged because of the active nature, but he’ll keep a hand on your lower back and kiss you/your cheek for your pictures.

you pool all your tickets together and get matching spooky glow in the dark spider rings

the ride home is spent blasting music with all the windows down. you have a dramatic singalong to bohemian rhapsody.

he’ll intentional take the long way home so you can keep talking and having a good time. 

bonus second date – last-minute lunch date and thrifting. 

𝗮𝗿𝗺𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗲𝗿𝘁

picks you up in the evening, right around sunset. similar to eren, he greets you with a lil wave and reaches over to open your door for you. 

immediately offers to let you control the music once he starts driving, whether you wanna plug your phone in or just unlock his (he trusts you already). 

he’s wearing a big corduroy jacket over a tee, cuffed jeans and sneakers. there’s a pair of glasses hanging from his shirt just in case he needs them, and a couple rings on his fingers. 

you’re both a little shy – lots of sneaking glances and blushing. 

conversation is natural, though! 

armin gently takes your hand when you get out of the car (after asking permission) and interlocks your fingers together. holding hands with you feels natural to him.

you walk around a bookstore together, pointing out your favorites, picking out interesting reads, and getting drinks from the cafe before cozying up on one of the couches. 

armin puts his arm around you and you lean into his chest while he reads to you.

there’s tension every time you look up at him. your lips are so close and all he can think about is closing the distance and kissing you (you end up kissing him).

he holds your hand on the ride home and you lean over the center console to kiss him again before you leave.

you definitely facetime for three hours once he’s home

bonus second date – science museum!

𝗹𝗲𝘃𝗶 𝗮𝗰𝗸𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗻

you meet each other at a coffee/tea/wine lounge for drinks before going to an art museum

levi didn’t want you to be waiting on him, so he guaranteed he’d get there first by showing up an hour early. he doesn’t tell you that, though. 

semi-casual attire – he’s wearing a real nice quality knit sweater tucked into black pants and a belt, and dress shoes. maybe two rings and a watch to accessorize. his hair is purposefully disheveled.

as composed as he looks, his heart is pounding in his chest.

compliments you with a genuine “you look really nice.” 

you both have a glass of wine before ordering tea. he insists you get whatever you want, he’s paying.

he’s a little more reserved and not a big fan of pda, so he doesn’t initiate a lot of physical touch – however, he doesn’t mind when you wanna lean into his side or link arms while you walk together. 

phone stays in his pocket the whole time because he wants to stay engaged and in the moment with you. 

he tells you he had a wonderful time and sincerely means it. maybe kisses you on the hand.

stays with you to make sure you get a ride home safe (you both didn’t want to drive if you were having wine) and makes sure to check in on you later that night.

bonus second date – you take one of those wine and painting classes together. someone tells you you’re a very cute couple and it makes him smile. 

𝗷𝗲𝗮𝗻 𝗸𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗶𝗻

good ol’ dinner and a movie. he meets you there and keeps a hand on the small of your back while he opens the door for you. 

he’s wearing a tee that fits his broad shoulders and chest just right, black jeans, and a green shirt jacket. his outfit is lightly accessorized with rings on his fingers and you can spot a few ear piercings.

probably has the audacity to apologize for his appearance because he just got off work and didn’t have a lot of time.

he does the classic yawn-and-stretch to put his arm around you and you rest your head on his shoulder. 

doesn’t use seeing a movie as an excuse to grope you or try and fool around in the dark.

the movie something stimulating and perplexing so you can talk about it over dinner later. maybe a psychological horror/thriller.

you get in playful arguments and debates over your vastly different interpretations. 

no kissing on the first date, but he does think about how badly he wants to kiss you at least 34 times during the night.

he walks you back to your car with an arm around your waist and asks you to let him know when you get home safe.

bonus second date – jean picks you up from work/class and you have a nice romantic dinner. he gently kisses your forehead when he takes you home.

𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘥? 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵

[platypanthewriter]

Soda

This is for Harringrove April day 12, Soda!  The dude in Steve's night class is a little grouchy, and a little beautiful.

Steve locked up his photography studio, set his shoulders, and drove to the college.

He rethought all his choices as he stared around at all the children in the college classroom, and wondered for a second whether he’d wandered into a highschool.  The thought made him shudder, and he stood rooted with dread in the doorway as somebody edged past, growling under his breath.  

The dude dropped into a seat in the middle of the class, shoved the hood back on his burgundy hoodie, and looked like he was Steve’s age, so Steve headed over.  He’d just walked up when the guy squinted at the whiteboard, muttered furiously under his breath, and moved two seats closer to the front.  He had tawny curls pulled back in a messy bun, a stubbly, well-defined jaw, and crow’s feet, and Steve shifted forwards to stay next to him, breathing a sigh of relief.  He grinned as he listened to the muttering.

“Hey,” Steve said, then watched the guy bury his head in his arms, pulling the hood back over his face.  “...glad to see somebody else who isn’t twelve,” Steve tried again.

The guy snorted.  “Yeah, we’ll see how long I last,” he groaned.  “You know how sometimes when you know you’re gonna fuck up, you might as well sooner than…” he rolled his head to smirk over at Steve, and then his blue-gray eyes widened, and he trailed off, licking his lips.  Steve waited politely as he cleared his throat.  “...later?” he whispered.

“You have to stay in this class,” Steve hissed as the teacher came in, grinning.  “You’re the only one I can talk to, you won’t fuck up, come on.”  

The guy blinked slowly at him, then ducked his head, smirking again, and grabbed a tumbler off the floor and slurped at it.  “It’s soda,” he shot over, rattling the ice.  

“Okay,” Steve said, laughing, and nodding at the low sun pouring in.  “I won’t rat you out, man, I wish I had something cold right now.”

The dude laughed, and Steve jumped on his chance.

“Come back tomorrow and the next soda’s on me,” he whispered out the side of his mouth, and got back a warm grin.

 After class, the guy climbed up to sit on his desk, facing Steve with a smile like a lighthouse beam now he was awake.  He had circles under his eyes, and it looked like he didn’t have a shirt on under his hoodie, just tan skin all the way down, but Steve had had rough mornings too.  “I’m Billy,” the guy said, leaning in and cocking his head.  “You wanna go for—”

“Uh, Steve, I’m Steve,” Steve said, wincing at his own lightning wit.  “What kind of soda you want me to bring?”

“Oh,” said the guy, going still for just a second, like Steve had said something weird, and just as Steve was trying to figure out what it was, he laughed and hopped off the desk.  “Sprite or something, whatever’s fine.”

Steve jogged to catch up.  “No caffeine?”

“...doesn’t matter,” Billy sighed, walking faster, and Steve slowed down, and let him get away.

 The next day Billy had on a rainbow chainmail bracelet, and Steve grinned as he handed over two cans of sprite.  “That’s neat,” he said, pointing to it, and Billy narrowed his eyes, studying Steve’s face like he was acting suspicious as hell.  After a few seconds, Steve laughed nervously.  “I’m not gonna steal it,” he said, and Billy groaned into his arms.  

He agreed to study before class at the picnic tables outside, though, and Steve got treated to hours of his freckled face sipping his soda, and grimacing faintly, like it was a depressing surprise every time.  When Steve went to take a piss, he grabbed some root beer and some Squirt, to see if that got a better reaction, and Billy blinked, then grinned his laser beam grin.  

Didn’t look like he liked them better, though.  The next time Steve was at the grocery store, he hit the fancy aisle.  He bought elderflower soda, and ginger brew, and orange cream.  At the last minute he stuck a kombucha in his basket, just to see what face Billy would make.

It was satisfyingly revolted—betrayal, and disbelief—but Steve grabbed it back, laughing his ass off.  “Don’t drink that,” he cackled, “—I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“See if I take notes for you again, you fuck,” Billy grumbled, wiping his tongue with a napkin, but his ears and cheeks were turning pink, and Steve couldn’t stop snickering.

 As the semester went on, Billy started wearing a rainbow lanyard, and rainbow clips holding his flyaway curls, and a big ol’ sticker of a cat shitting rainbows on his soda tumbler.

“Wow, you sure like rainbows,” Steve said when the barrettes appeared, instead of his first impulse, which was to offer his ex’s little sister’s abandoned hair care collection.  It had pink plastic poodles clips.  Billy’d have looked hilarious in them, grouching about midterms and scratching his graying stubble, and Steve bit back a smile.

Billy stared at him, then grabbed his soda tumbler and drank, holding eye contact.  It was full of the lavender lemon artisan soda Steve had found on sale, and Billy spluttered, coughing.  “Where do you find this shit,” he asked, grimacing, and Steve laughed.  

“I can stop.  You just make this face when you drink soda—”

Billy’s mouth quirked, and he sighed.  “...nah, it’s...uh.  It’s...nice.”

“Don’t fall all over yourself in gratitude,” Steve told him, and Billy kicked at his legs under the table.

“It’s not like you aren’t having the time of your life feeding me this shit,” he hissed, and Steve snickered.  

 Billy started talking again about dropping out around midterms, fiddling incessantly with his soda, and losing sleep again, if the crinkly, bruised skin under his eyes was anything to go on.  “I’m gonna fail anyway,” he breathed.  “Why did I even register, I always do this, I get—”

“You’re not gonna fail,” Steve hissed, then stared at the whiteboard.  “Are you?!  You said I was getting it!  Are we both failing?!”

“No!” Billy laughed.  “No, no.”  He reached across the aisle and squeezed Steve’s shoulder.  “No, man, you’re good, you’re fine—”

“Don’t say that shit then,” Steve told him, narrowing his eyes, and Billy took a deep breath and blew out, swallowing.  “Look,” Steve said, steepling his hands—like he always had to stretch them after basketball—the way Robin always said looked like a supervillain.  “Look, okay, come over.  Before midterms.  We can get a pizza.  Stay the night.  We’ll play Super Mario and go to bed at like eight pm like we’re in first grade.”

Billy cocked his head, biting his lips together.

“I’ll make sure you study and get to sleep,” Steve said, leaning closer, and Billy laughed, kind of darkly.  “Lemme know,” Steve said, and slid the weirdest soda he’d found recently—Schooner’s Coffee Cola—over like they were making an under-the-table drug deal.

Billy looked down at it and burst into snickers, curling forward to rest his face in his arms on the desk, and then kinda sighed tiredly, and half-smiled over at Steve, and Steve wondered what he’d said wrong.

 Steve came early every day to grab their picnic table, and Billy showed up more and more, in rainbow sneakers, and after a while, a purple button-up, unbuttoned, with rainbow pinstripes.  Steve watched him wave his soda and cigarette around, and swear about the people calling tech support.  “I get my degree, they said they can promote me,” he said, sighing.

“Sounds like you deserve it,” Steve told him, with a suave double thumbs-up into finger-guns that nearly made Billy spit his soda.  

“I brought you cherry-lime,” Steve told him, waggling his eyebrows, and the bottle, and Billy groaned, holding his hand out, and Steve pulled it back.  “You can say no,” he pointed out, and Billy laughed, waggling his fingers.

“I’m weak to peer pressure,” he said, grabbing it, unscrewing it, and dumping it right in with whatever was in there while Steve looked on in horror.  He tossed back a swig, and then grunted, grimacing, and pressing his lips together, his eyes shut tight.

“Spit it out!  Spit it out!” Steve yelped, snickering.  “My feelings won’t be hurt!”  

Billy pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, and swallowed with a shudder, and Steve tried to yank the tumbler away from him, but Billy jerked it away, waving it in the air.  “Not so bad,” he gasped, lying.  “Want some?”

“Don’t do it!” Steve hissed, trying to grab it, but laughing so hard he was clumsy.  Billy finally chugged it despite Steve’s melodramatic pleas, and Steve threw an arm around him, cackling and leaning into Billy’s shoulder.  Billy had an enamel pin on his denim collar of a carton of milk that said 100% HOMO, and Steve snorted, laughing harder, yanking out his phone.  “Can I get a picture of your pin?”

Billy turned to frown at him, then frowned and patted his collar, and bit his lips together, raising his eyebrows.

“My best friend’s a lesbian,” Steve told him.  “She’d love it.”  That got him a slow blink, and then Billy nodded.  

He seemed distracted after that, and didn’t look at Steve during class.  

 “...I have a really horrible soda I was saving for after midterms,” Steve told him after class, running to catch up.  

“If it’s shitty, why’d you buy it,” Billy hissed at him, and stalked off, and Steve watched him go, squeezing his bag with the terrible-sounding dandelion-burdock soda.  

“I fucked up,” Steve told Robin, sitting in his car.  “I don’t know, he’s pissed—”

“This the guy with the 100% HOMO pin?” she asked dryly, and Steve blinked.

“Yeah, but I mean, I wasn’t a dick about it, or anything?”

“Hrm,” she said.  “I saw some of that soda.  Maybe he’s mad you poisoned him, you ever think of that?”

“I guess,” Steve sighed.  

“Maybe he’s just not into you?” she suggested, with what sounded like a grimace.  “I mean, just because he’s gay—”

“Wait, what?” Steve asked.  “No, I—I didn’t hit on him, jesus—”

“...wait, what?  What are we talking about, then?” Robin asked flatly.  “What’d you fuck up, if you weren’t asking him out?”

“...he might just stop talking to me,” Steve said, wincing.  “He stomps off a lot.”  He considered.  “Uh, I could—I could wear that bi pride shirt you got me.  See if he says anything.”

“...he might just think you love pink and purple unicorns,” Robin said, but it sounded like she was snickering, so he took it as a win, and when he got home, he puttered around through the bi stuff he’d gotten at Pride—he tied on the friendship bracelet, and relaced his shoes with the pink, blue, and purple laces, and put the belt buckle on with the speech bubble that said ‘Be Gay, Do Crimes’ like his dick was talking.  

He looked like a very pretty princess in the mirror, but a hot one, he thought, taking a couple of selfies of the way the tight unicorn shirt clung to his biceps and pecs.

 Billy didn’t show up the next day, or answer texts, though the professor said he’d emailed in.  Steve texted a picture of ginger ale, grimacing.  “I got you an antidote, I’m sorry,” he sent, but he didn’t hear anything until the day of midterms, when Billy was already slumped on his desk when Steve came in, even though he’d have had to walk the whole long way around the building to avoid their table.  

Steve settled in and tried not to nervously click his pen, or tap his foot, or squeak his shoe against the leg of his desk, but eventually Billy shot him a glare, and then just...stared.  Steve glanced over at him, cautiously, and the instructor cleared her throat.  “Eyes front!” she called, and Billy swerved his glower back to his own test, staring down at it until he shook his head, and started scribbling with a will.  He was one of the first to turn his test in, and then he stood by the door with his eyes on Steve’s pen, as Steve tried to write an essay.

 The classroom slowly emptied, and there Steve was, dressed like a unicorn princess man, and utterly failing his midterm.  His teacher glanced up from her book occasionally, and then glanced at the clock, and once, she sighed, and Billy stood there watching Steve be a moron.

He had to already know, Steve figured, rereading the question one more time, and understanding less.  Billy’d helped him with homework assignments, and notes, and seen what an idiot he was, and that was why he’d never said anything despite being 100% HOMO.  Steve bit his lips as the words ran together.

He gave up on the last question, and turned in his exam with a sinking feeling of finality.  He grabbed his bag, heard the swish of the definitely-gross soda in there, and groaned in the back of his throat.  

“Do you just fucking like unicorns,” Billy asked, falling into step with him as he left the room, and Steve was left with the announcement he’d been trying to avoid, so Billy wouldn’t have to avoid him.  “...bi...corns,” he mumbled, and Billy said “Fuck,” and grabbed his face, kissing him hard, then laughing awkwardly and gentling it.  His lips were soft and warm, and a little chapped.

He tasted like soda.  Steve ran his fingers over the rainbow hair clips, and through the curls at the back of Billy’s neck, kissing that smile finally.  Billy sighed shakily against his mouth, yanking Steve closer by his unicorn-shirted shoulders.  “Jesus, why didn’t we do this sooner,” he breathed.

“Why didn’t you,” Steve muttered, cupping Billy’s jaw and kissing him again, instead of letting him answer.  “...wearing all that Pride shit, but you never asked me out, I figured it was kinda obvious you—”

“I what,” Billy hissed, and then scowled.  “No, wait, you shithead, I waited that whole damn time, I drank like four cans of Sprite, and then I couldn’t miss you coming out—”

He’d been nervously sucking it down the whole test, and Steve thought he might have grabbed more while he waited—and sure enough, he shoved Steve away, as Steve laughed, then leaned back in for one more hard press of lips, and said “Shit, I gotta take a piss, I’ll be right back, don’t fucking move.”

The whole school was quiet in the early evening, as everyone ran home after night classes.  Steve waited.  When he heard the squeak of Billy’s sneakers echoing in the silent halls, he dug out the awful soda.

“I got this for you,” he said, as Billy ran around the corner, looking around like Steve might be gone.  “—but I wanted to ask if I could—let’s go out, somewhere,” Steve said, laughing nervously.  

“Jesus, anywhere,” Billy said, laughing as he took the soda, and Steve’s hand.  “On a date, right?  It’s a date.  For real.  This time.”  

“This time?” Steve asked, leaning in to kiss his smirk, and then again, as Billy’s eyes closed, and he made a contented noise in the back of his throat.  Steve snickered, kissing along his stubbly jaw, and then had to kiss his mouth so he’d grin again.

Neither of them wanted to stop, but finally Billy pushed him back, laughing and flushed.  “Don’t wanna get arrested for indecent exposure,” he said, smiling, and then looked down at the soda Steve had handed him.  He raised his eyebrows.  “...dandelions?  That’s a new low.”

“You really probably shouldn’t drink it,” Steve laughed, giddy at the feeling of Billy’s hand in his.  He leaned in for another kiss, feeling Billy’s root beer-flavored lips part against his, and Billy’s lips curving in a wide, irrepressible smile.  “Come on, there’s a bar around the corner.  I’ll get you something better.”

Billy stilled for just a second, and then ran alongside him, like the bar was gonna run away.  “So we’re dating now, right,” he said, and Steve laughed, grinning over.

“You expect more?  You greedy fuck, after I bought you like a shipping crate of soda.”

“You owe me for that soda,” Billy told him, laughing.

 When they reached the bar, Steve hauled him to a table.  

“What can I get you,” Steve asked him.  “Not soda, not if it’s running my debt up.”

Billy’s fingers whitened on his soda tumbler, and he licked his lips.  “...don’t think you’re gonna wanna pay?”

“Come on, it’s a date,” Steve told him, laughing, and Billy echoed it, softly, glancing at the menu above the bar.

“...I am bad against peer pressure,” he said, swallowing.  

“No pressure,” Steve said quickly, “—just it’s a date, I’ll treat you—”

“Wonder how bad I fucked up the test,” Billy said, laughing.  “Where’s today going.”

“What?” Steve asked, feeling like the conversation was getting away from him.

“...double whiskey,” Billy said, with a crooked grin, dropping into his chair.  “Go big or go home, right?”

“I didn’t…” Steve paused, thinking of the way Billy’s hand always reached for the tumbler, but he always looked startled and kind pissed off by what was in it.  Peer pressure, he thought, grimacing, and remembered how Billy had been excited about a date, but stalled out when Steve suggested a bar.  “No, no, I didn’t—they’ve, um, they’ve got...mocktails.  Billy.  I just—you don’t like soda, maybe—um, iced coffee, or—”

Billy stared at him, his hands tightening further as his shoulders hunched.  “Shit,” he whispered.

“You don’t have to drink,” Steve told him, pretty sure his guess was right, and wondering how badly he’d fucked up, this time.  “Fuck, I’m sorry, this place was just—close, we can go, uh, what—what if—dinner?!”

“You just—you fucking figured out I’m a fucking alcoholic, and you want dinner?” Billy growled, rubbing his face and groaning.

“I should have asked you where you wanted to go,” Steve admitted, grimacing.  “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—make you, uh, make you tell me...anything.  D’you still want a date?!”

“Yeah, I fucking want a date,” Billy snarled back, and Steve laughed with relief, dragging him back outside by the hand, and leaning in to kiss him around his bared teeth.  

“...let’s get you something that’s not soda, though,” Steve whispered against his lips, laughing.  

“Fuck, you seriously don’t care?” Billy asked, pulling away to stare into his face.  “...I’m a mess.  I’m working at a fucking call center.  I kept my commuter mug full of whiskey.  I had my last drink the morning we met.”  Steve listened, running his fingers up the back of Billy’s neck, and into his warm curls, as Billy’s explanation of why they shouldn’t date started to turn into why they should.  

“I agreed with my little sister to taper it off last year,” Billy told him, watching his face.  “I did, I swear.  Started drinking less.  It was less,” he said again, like he thought Steve might not believe him.  “I was just having one now and then when somebody was around to stop me before I went too far.  I’m not—shouldn’t go in bars and order doubles, I just thought—I—” he laughed shakily, and Steve leaned his face in close enough to kiss, but not so close he was cutting Billy off if he had more to say.

Billy leaned into the kiss with a soft whine, and as Steve kept kissing him, he started smiling, and let Steve drag him for bubble tea.  He liked it better than soda, Steve was pretty sure, from the look on his face, but they agreed the boba wouldn’t fit through the mouth of the cup.

“Gotta start buying you different drinks,” Steve told him, stroking his chin, and Billy burst out laughing.

“Oh, fuck,” he whispered, leaning his head on his arm, and grinning up at Steve.  “Anything but that.”

The other Harringrove April prompts I’ve done

[padfootagain]

A Very Rose Mistake (III)

Part 3 : How You Told Your Parents

 Here we go with a new chapter! I know that today is Golden day as the music video dropped this afternoon, but I had planned to post the chapter, so let's go anyway! It just means more Harry for today, and who can pretend like there is something like too much Harry? Certainly not me!

So here is another cute and light-hearted chapter! I hope you all like it! No warnings of any kind!

Please, tell me what you think of this new chapter!

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count : 3535

                                                              I

                                              Holmes Chapel, 2003

 "HAAAA!"

"HARRY SLOW DOWN!"

"I CAN'T!"

"WE'RE GONNA CRASH!"

"WE'RE GONNA CRASH!"

The next second you were disappearing into a pile of fresh snow.

You shuffled away from the sledge and out of the snow to stand on your feet again. You looked for your best friend in the messy white powder, but couldn't see him anywhere.

"Harry?" You called. "It's not funny! Come on, we need to bring it back up the hill. We need to move out of the way or Gemma is gonna crash into us!"

But you were met with silence, and started to be properly worried.

Was he hurt? He could have hit his head on something... what if he had broken one of his bones!? Your friend Daniel had broken his arm a few months before and he had spent weeks wearing this cast around his arm. It seemed very serious. What if Harry was hurt and would need one of these too?

"Harry? You're okay? Come out now, it's not funny!"

And then something coming out of the snow was grabbing your ankle, and you cried, jumping away in fear.

You would have recognized this ridiculous laugh anywhere.

"HARRY!"

He finally crawled fully out of the snow, laughing so hard he had to hold onto his painful belly.

"You scared me! It's not funny!" You protested.

"You should have seen your face!" He replied between hiccups, unable to stand for now because of how much he was still laughing. "And you shouted so loud!"

He doubled in laughter, and you noticed how his lisp was coming back as he wasn't making a conscious effort to repress it. You thought it was rather cute. And Harry's laugh was contagious. These were the only reasons why you were smiling then, because you were still mad at him for playing this trick on you.

"You're so annoying!" You shook your head, crossing your arms before your chest.

"Oh come on! Even you have to admit it was funny!" He replied, eventually calming down a little more.

"Not one bit!"

"It was. It was hilarious. Didn't know you could jump so far!"

You huffed, offended. No matter if you were still little, from the top of your nine-year-old self, you still turned away from him and pretended to refuse to acknowledge his presence.

Instead, you leaned down, as if to tie your shoes.

"Y/N... are you really mad?"

This time his tone was a little more uncertain. After all, if there was one thing that he hated, it was seeing you sad or upset. And especially so when it was because of him.

"Don't be mad! It was just a joke!" He went on, this time being the one who sounded annoyed, when in reality he was more worried than anything else.

But instead of hearing your reply, he was hit straight in the face with a snowball, while it was your turn to be laughing at him.

He chased away the snow dripping over his face with his gloved hand, a mischievous smile appearing on his features as he did so.

"Oh... are you sure you want to play it like that?" He asked, quirking up an eyebrow.

You let out a giggle, shrugging.

"You're the one who started it!"

"Alright, then!" When you saw him bending to scoop some snow in his palm, you let out a shriek and ran off towards the nearby tree where your mother and Anne were keeping an eye on all of you, chatting and trying to stay warm in the cold weather while you played.

"HAAAA! HELP ME! I'M BEING ATTACKED!" You dramatically called the parents, while Harry ran after you.

You got protection by hiding behind your mum, gripping at her long coat, making her laugh.

"Alright, alright! Calm down you two!"

While Gemma was sliding down the hill over the outskirts of Holmes Chapel, laughing on her sledge, Harry was trying to aim at you but you kept on running around the adults. Until he took his shot and hit you on the knee, the cold sensation making you cry through your laughter.

"Alright, calm down! Both of you!" Anne tried to admonish, but she was laughing as well at how silly you and Harry were.

As Gemma was joining the group pulling her sledge behind her, you and Harry were lost in an intense battle, your mothers sometimes getting caught in the crossfire.

"Gemma! Help! Team up with me!" You called while Harry was managing to grab your arm and shove some snow in the space between your scarf and neck, making you shriek.

And the older girl didn't need to be asked twice. Soon enough, both Gemma and you were chasing after Harry, who was now the one hiding behind the two mothers.

"Mum! Help! It's not even fair! They're two against one!"

"It's true that two against one is hardly fair," she agreed through her giggles.

"Then help!"

As she got caught in the crossfire again, Anne gave in and started to participate to the fight too. When she accidentally hit your mum right in the face, she also joined in. And then there were no teams, just three children and two mothers having a snowball fight and laughing too much for their stomachs.

Later that afternoon, you got home to change into dry clothes and get a warm and well-deserved hot cocoa at your place. You reckoned that the last thing you would need to make the day perfect was building a snowman, so you teamed up with Harry to build one in his backyard and make it as big as you could.

"We need eyes for him!" You noticed with horror that he was still missing those as you wrapped your scarf around the snowman's neck.

You had used a little twig for its nose, and Harry had found pebbles for its smile, but you just had the best idea.

"I know! Hold on!"

You ran off to your house and Harry patiently waited for you, placing his beanie on the snowman's head.

When you reappeared, you had two green marbles in your hand, that you planted in the snow to give your new friend eyes.

"It looks nice!" Harry agreed with a professional nod.

"Like that, he has the same eyes as you do!" You told him with a grin, and Harry wasn't sure why he was blushing, but he was.

"I like it," he nodded.

Your mother called for you, and you had to part with Harry for the rest of the holidays as you would both be travelling to see your families during the rest of the break.

"Today was so much fun!" You smiled.

"Yeah! The best!"

"I can't believe we're leaving tomorrow to go to my grandparents' for Christmas," you sighed with a sad pout.

"I'm gonna miss you."

"But you'll spend tons of time with your dad! It's gonna be great!"

Harry shrugged, clearly saddened now.

"Still gonna miss you. It's not as fun when you're not around."

You hugged him, promising to tell him everything that had happened during the holidays when you would be back.

"I'll get your scarf and your marbles once the snow has melted. No worries!" He promised, and you gave him a smile again, but this one was a little shy.

"You can keep the marbles if you want. They really do look like your eyes. Feels like they should be yours."

"You sure?"

You nodded, walking backwards towards your house, and waving at him.

"Merry Christmas, Harry!"

He waved back at you, laughing, even though he wasn't so sure why. He guessed it was just because of you.

"Merry Christmas, Y/N!"

                                                           II

                                            Loch Lomond, 2020

 Seeing your parents in the large hall, you suddenly weren't so sure if this whole ordeal was a good idea or the worst piece of madness that had ever flashed into your brain. But you were leaning towards the second option as you stepped in the room.

You took in deep breaths, and tried to calm down. One quick glance at Harry told you that he was just as nervous as you were.

For a moment though, all your fears vanished as your mother spotted you, her lips breaking in a bright grin, and she moved away from her spot by the window, abandoning the gorgeous view in favour of hugging you tight.

"I've missed you so much, my baby!" she squealed, hugging you so tight you could barely breathe, but the gesture only made you cackle, and you hugged her with the same urgency.

"It's so good to see you, mum!"

"You live way too far away! When are you coming back home?"

"After my PhD, promise."

"You'd better. Cause I'm tired of being alone dealing with your father."

"I heard that!" your father complained, and both you and your mother laughed at him, before you would break the embrace to hug your dad instead.

"Your mother is right though, we've missed you," he told you, kissing your cheek.

Your mum only then seemed to notice that Harry was standing a few steps away, unwilling to disturb your reunion.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, hugging him just as tightly as she had done you. "I didn't know you were invited to the wedding too! I mean… of course Cassie knows you, but she wanted a small venue and very few guests…"

"Uhm… No, I… I wasn't invited. I came with Y/N."

She blinked a couple of times at him, her expression blank, before realization glowed across her features.

But… not realization of what was actually happening…

"Oh, she asked you as her plus one! But why? I mean… it's just our family, you wouldn't have been alone, Y/N! There was no need to bring a friend along!"

Harry and you exchanged a glance, as you freed yourself from your father's embrace.

"No, actually… uhm… we're…" Harry began but fell silent as your father slowly turned to him.

"You're what?" your mother asked, completely lost.

"We're together," you announced as fast as your lips would allow. "He came as my boyfriend."

Harry offered your parents a bright smile.

"Together? What… what do you mean 'together'?" your mother stuttered upon her words.

"I mean that… he's my boyfriend now. Not… just a friend."

Her glance travelled back and forth between the two of you, and you were certain to have broken her brain by now.

It seemed impossible for her to process the news.

"So… you two are a couple?" your father asked, turning fully to Harry, who nodded in response.

"It's quite new," the young man explained. "We just… realized that we both wanted to try to take our relationship a step further."

"I see…"

Your father finally offered Harry his hand to shake, which your best friend hurried to take. You noticed the wince that distorted his features though, as your father crushed his fingers.

"We're going to need to have a talk, young man."

"Yes, sir."

"Dad!" you admonished, pulling him away from your frightened friend, who seemed terrified by now. "Stop it! What are you doing? It's just Harry!"

"Yes… it's Harry. Harry who used to spend entire nights in a sleeping bag in your bedroom when the two of you were children!"

He turned towards your fake boyfriend, waving a threatening finger at him.

"If you think I've forgotten about that day you closed her door when the two of you were 14…"

"No, I promise you, nothing happened!" Harry defended himself, absolutely terrified by now as he took a step back. "We… nothing happened for years, it's only been a few months, and nothing had ever happened before that. You have my word."

Your father huffed, not buying it, despite your friend's words being the truth.

"Oh come on, honey!" your mother forced her husband to calm down. "Y/N's right, it's just Harry. We know he's a respectable young man. So quit the tough act, would you?"

Your dad still mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, but your mum was shaking her head, amused.

"Ha… we knew it would happen eventually," she affectionately patted Harry's shoulder. "And if I'm being honest… it took you long enough!"

"Darling!" it was your father's turn to admonish your mother.

"What? I'm perfectly right, don't play innocent! By the way, who made the first move?"

You looked at each other… you… hadn't really discussed that…

"Well… uhm… I… did?" Harry answered with much hesitation.

"I mean, we were a little… inebriated," you started to explain, but your father quickly interrupted you, glaring at your 'boyfriend', and if a glance could have killed, Harry would have been violently murdered there and then.

"Inebriated?! What happened?!" he snapped, but Harry raised his hands in a soothing gesture.

"Nothing happened between us, don't worry. I would never do that!" he replied, a little offended that your father would think him able to do something like this. "We just… confessed things we wouldn't have discussed while sobber."

"I swear to God, son… if anything happened between you and my baby girl while she was drunk…"

"No, dad, nothing happened! Relax, would you! And even if something had happened, trust me, I would have been wholeheartedly all for it!"

"Really?" Harry asked with surprise, clearly slipping out of his acting role, and it was your turn to glower at him in response. He caught your idea quickly, but you were the one to speak first again anyway.

"Look, we just… realized that we both… wanted to take our friendship to the next level. We went on a couple of real dates, and here we are!"

"Yes, but who made the first move," your mother asked again. "Who kissed who first? Who confessed first?"

"I did," you both answered at the same time, sharing a panicked glance.

This whole thing was a disaster and was just getting worse and worse by the second…

"I mean… I… confessed first," Harry clarified, but his tone was a little too hesitant as he kept on staring at you, waiting for validation, and you gave him a small nod. "And she… she initiated the first… physical… contact…"

"Physical contact?!" your father interjected, and your friend was burying his face in his hands in embarrassment this time.

"No, I mean… she kissed me first. I meant kissing, just kissing."

"Look, dad, please, stop being like that!"

"Oh, so… now I can't take care of my daughter anymore?"

"It's Harry!" you replied. "Can't you trust him?!"

"When it comes to you, I don't trust nobody. And he's lucky we're not alone in this room," he replied between his gritted teeth, making you roll your eyes, and Harry lost all traces of colours all over his face, going as white as sheets.

"Look, you know I would never do anything to hurt Y/N…"

"Son, for your own good, you should stop talking now."

"Yes, sir."

"So… Harry made the first move, in a way," your mother considered your story.

"I guess, yeah. Why?"

Your mother beamed at you.

"Well, that means Anne owes me a 20!"

"What?"

"I was sure Harry would make the first move, but Anne has always thought that he would be too slow with his emotions and you would be the clever one to figure it all out first. So, I've just earned 20 pounds!"

"You… bet with my mum about Y/N and I getting together?" your fake-boyfriend asked in confusion.

"The bet has been on since you were both 14, sweetie!" your mother laughed, making your father roll his eyes. "It sure took both of you long enough to realize that you love each other! We've known for over a decade."

Both you and your best friend exchanged a confused look.

Were your two mothers… rooting for you… being… a couple?

"What?!" you both exclaimed at the same time.

But your mother merely let out a chuckle, pinching both your and Harry's cheeks.

"It's about time that the two of you finally come to your senses! I need to call Anne and tell her the news!"

You both stared at each other with wide eyes, panicked once more.

"No, please," Harry stopped you as your mother reached for her phone. "I… I haven't told her yet, and I'd like to be the one to tell her. I… it's important to me."

Your mum gave him a disappointed pout, but obliged nonetheless.

"Alright. But tell her I haven't forgotten about our bet and she owes me 20 pounds!"

"I will. Promise."

You were interrupted though, by your grandmother entering the hall and calling for you. And both you and Harry welcomed the chance to escape your parents.

"Gran! How are you doing?"

"I'm so happy to see you, darling," the old woman gave you a warm hug. "It's been too long."

"Me too, gran!"

"I'm relieved you could come for your cousin's wedding! I was afraid you wouldn't get a flight. Or wouldn't take the time to come."

"Of course, I came! It's Cassie's wedding!"

"You're spending too much time working…"

"Gran," you tried to interrupt her, your voice full of warning.

"You are forgetting everything else in your life. Including your love life, even though it's important!"

"Gran…"

You had barely said hello, and she was already diving in this topic.

"You know, I'm sure there will be some lovely young men at the reception…"

"Gran!"

"I'm just saying that weddings are the perfect place to meet new people."

"Well, I don't need to meet new people, because I came with my boyfriend!"

Her eyes grew round, and yet a smile formed on her lips.

And you were reminded all too well why you had asked Harry to come in the first place. Some members of your family really weren't interested in anything but your love life…

You silently asked Harry to come closer, and he approached the two of you with a shy smile.

"Hi!"

"Do you remember my friend Harry?"

She gave both of you a suspicious look.

"I do. You lived next door. Always the mischievous type!"

He chuckled, shrugging.

"I was a child, for my defence."

"So you two are together? Or you just came as a friend?"

"No, we're together," you answered, standing a little closer to him.

But she didn't seem convinced.

"If you say so…" she mumbled under her breath. "And is it anything serious?"

"Yeah, it is," Harry nodded with a smile, but again, your grandmother looked at him with eyes full of doubts.

It was hard to tell if she was unsure of your taste in men, or if she doubted that the two of you were together at all. All the same, she didn't seem so happy about the news.

She was distracted by your mother behind you, and you released a shaky breath as she walked away.

"We're not doing so good, are we?" Harry asked even if he knew the answer to his question already, in a shushed whisper that would allow no one else but you to hear his concerned words. "We haven't even talked to five people yet, and one of them doesn't seem to believe us, and another wants to murder me."

"Well, perhaps if you weren't acting so stiff around me, they would be more convinced!" you snapped back at him under your breath.

"What do you mean?"

"You're not acting like you're my boyfriend at all, Harry!"

"I am doing my best! What would you have me do?"

"Touch me? At least a little bit. I don't know, hold my hand or touch my back, or whatever."

"Well, you could do the same, babe."

You gave him a fake smile, before wrapping your arm around his waist.

"I am."

He threw a scared glance at your parents, and indeed, caught your father glowering at him, and he moved away from your touch as a consequence.

"Well, I'm sorry to be a little 'stiff' when your father looks at me like that! Besides, PDAs aren't my thing, in case you didn't know."

You rolled your eyes at him.

"My dad won't do anything, you know him. A lot of talks, but in the end, he's a teddy bear."

Harry heaved a sigh in response, and took another look at your family. They seemed lost in conversation, and judging by the glances they threw at the two of you, Harry guessed that your new relationship ought to be the main subject of gossips.

"Maybe you're right though."

He reached for your hand, and you were surprised that his gesture was slow, a little shy. His cheeks were flushed and he turned away from your family so they wouldn't notice his burning skin. You intertwined your fingers together, standing a little closer to him.

"You don't have to, if it makes you uncomfortable," you reassured him.

"No, it's… it's nice, actually."

"What is?"

A smile appeared on his lips, but he didn't look at you. Instead, he watched as your aunt and uncle entered the room, bracing himself for the next introduction. His smile didn't falter though as he whispered his next words.

"Holding your hand. It's nice… holding your hand."

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

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[watching-pictures-move]

Viddying the Nasties #37 | Possession (Zulawski, 1981)

This review contains spoilers.

Andrzej Zulawski's Possession is a movie I'd somewhat been dreading revisiting. When I'd seen it all those years back (on YouTube, split into two parts if I recall correctly, as the DVD had been hard to come by in those days), despite being greatly moved by the experience, I'd also found it an extremely exhausting film to sit through. It's a tortured divorce melodrama (among other things) that starts at 11 and only goes up from there. Lots of shouting and screaming, physical abuse, kicking around chairs and tables. The movie is not what I'd call an overtly pleasant experience. Watching it now (on a Blu-ray from Mondo Vision, a substantial upgrade from my original format), while I won't characterize my previous impressions as inaccurate, I was able to better appreciate how the movie modulates this tone, acclimatizing us to its fraught emotional space. The movie starts off in the realm of a normal, bitter breakup, with the husband having returned from a work trip only to learn that his wife is leaving him and struggling to make sense of it, his frustration and anger stemming as much from the fact of her dissolving their relationship as his inability to comprehend her motivations. It isn't really until the half hour mark that it asks us to dive off the deep end with it. The husband hits his wife in the middle of a fight, follows her onto the street as she tries to halfheartedly throw herself onto the path of a truck, which then drops its baggage in an almost comical bit of stuntwork, their squabble ended when the husband becomes surrounded by children playing soccer and joins in. Any one of these by itself is nothing out of the ordinary, but Zulawski assembles them into an off-kilter crescendo, and does away with any sense of normalcy for the rest of the runtime.

That this approach works as well as it does is largely thanks to Isabelle Adjani as Anna, the wife, who spends the aforementioned scene looking like a vampire in cat eye sunglasses and blood streaming down her grimacing mouth. She delivers perhaps the most bracingly physical performance I've seen in a movie, but again this is something I'd maybe underappreciated initially in terms of how finely tuned her choices are. An early scene where she fights with her husband has her manically cutting raw meat and shoving it into a grinder, as if to channel her frustrations into acceptable form of violence for women. When she takes an electric knife to her throat, she begins to spasm about like a farm animal during a botched slaughter, providing a further comment on her domestic situation. The film's most famous scene has her freak out in a subway tunnel, thrashing her limbs about chaotically but almost rhythmically, maybe like the contractions when goes into labour. Her character later describes this as a miscarriage, ejecting the side of her which is neat and orderly and "good". Adjani plays this other half as well, with a much more old fashioned hairdo (braided conservatively like a stereotypical schoolmarm), one which provides a much more tender maternal figure to the couple's son. Adjani is also well cast because of her emotive, saucer-like eyes, which she isn't afraid to point at the camera repeatedly, providing a genuine emotional grounding during both the quieter and more hysterical sections of the movie.

Her husband, Mark, is played by Sam Neill, who had been cast after the filmmakers had seen him in Gillian Armstrong's My Brilliant Career. To understand why Neill works so well, it helps to know that Sam Waterston had previously expressed interest in the role. Waterston, while a good actor, would have come off too fogeyish as the husband. Neill brings the appropriate edge and even sex appeal necessary for the material. And like in Jurassic Park, his best known role, he brings an inquisitive quality that keeps him close enough to our vantage point to give the narrative arc some grounding. The other major human character here is Heinz Bennent as Heinrich, a new age guru who happens to be having an affair with the wife. One on hand, this character represents the counterculture from Zulawski's homeland, which he had left after trouble from the authorities when making his last movie. On the other hand, Zulawski was drawing heavily from the bitter divorce he had just gone through, and directs a sizable fraction of the movie's contempt at this character, leading me to believe that his wife in fact left him for some new age buffoon. In one of the movie's funnier scenes, he has Heinrich confront Mark over Anna's disappearance and then go into a dumbassed trance while spouting new age nonsense and basically calling Mark a Nazi. This is the guy his wife left him for? This jackass? Mark sets him up by sending him to Anna, knowing full well he could be killed, but the potency of Mark's rage (and Zulawski's, by extension), as well as the ludicrousness of the Heinrich character, keep us from sympathizing with the latter too much. Zulawski has Heinrich die with his head in a toilet, a final flush by Mark serving as one last hilariously mean-spirited gesture of contempt.

Zulawski originally conceived the movie as having another major character, Anna's ex-husband, to be played by veteran actor and director Bernard Wicki, but after the first day of shooting with Wicki, he decided to drop the character entirely. (I suppose it depends on the personalities, but I wonder how actors react to being let go early from a project. Is it worse if it's on the first day? How about if you lead the filmmakers to realize they should do away with the character altogether? I only hope Wicki got paid.) It's not hard to see what purpose this character would have served, particularly in the way that Anna "upgrades" her lovers, having traded a much older man for the younger, sexier Mark, and then trying to replace him with an evolving monstrous fuck-squid (more on this later) that she was trying to nurture and reshape into the ideal partner. The only remnants of this character in the finished film is his young wife, who appears in the climax and his goaded by the "new" Mark (the final form of the fuck-squid) to shoot into the corpses of the real Mark and Anna. The character's proposed thematic purpose might have spelled out this moment's significance more clearly, but I'm not always convinced thematic clarity is preferable to how things move and feel, and the end product does not feel incomplete or incoherent, or at least not detrimentally so. The emotions make sense, even if the events onscreen are outside the norm. (My condolences to those of you who've been dumped for a monstrous fuck-squid.)

Having been conceived after his last project was quashed by authorities in Poland, there's undeniably a political element here, enhanced by the noticeable presence of the Berlin Wall, near which much of the film is situated. (At one point the camera looks out the window and sees the police from East Berlin staring back.) The realities of the Cold War figure heavily in the characters' lives, as it's suggested that Helen (the other Adjani) is from behind the Iron Curtain (she speak of readily identifiable evil, which could be interpreted as the visible presence of an authoritarian regime) and that Mark's work is in the field of intelligence, maybe even espionage. But the movie is less interested in pointing out political specifics than in the accompanying sense of repression and division, which plays heavily into the visual style. The movie often divides its frames to separate the characters, but rarely with any sense of symmetry, suggesting a sense of emotional chaos enhanced by the bruising mixture of wide angle lenses and handheld camerawork. When we're with Mark, the movie looks overcast, bluish grey, appropriately repressed at first, although Anna's presence throws his neat, fluorescently-lit apartment into disarray. Anna's love nest, situated in the Turkish district right beside the Wall is dilapidated and unkempt, which may have reflected the squalid realities of a hastily rented apartment in what I assume is a poorer part of town, but after having excised the orderly part of herself, it seems like an accurately messy reflection of her headspace.

Now back to the fuck-squid. It's hard to go into Possession this day and age completely blind, and even back when I first saw it, it came on my radar as the movie where "Isabelle Adjani fucks a squid". I have a lot of respect for Zulawski for delivering the goods on this front and for Adjani for throwing herself into this material, not because I'm some kind of sexual deviant who gets off on this stuff (although if you are, I'm not here to judge, it's a free country, just clear your browsing history after), but because modern arthouse cinema often defaults to a mode of cold, downplayed and too afraid to raise the audience's pulse (because apparently it's undignified to force a reaction out of the audience) and it's nice to see a movie serve what it says on the tin (this is one I'd have loved to see with an unsuspecting audience back in the day). Producer Marie Laure-Reyre notes that Zulawski was very hands on with the conception of the monster, drawing inspiration from gargoyles in Polish architecture, as if to further imbue political context into the proceedings. When seeing the end product, I can only assume Zulawski broke up with his wife at a seafood restaurant (I would hope he didn't react like Mark and throw around all the tables and chairs). Of course, the design of the monster means that the movie leans heavily into body horror, and its inclusion on the Video Nasty list in the UK and its release in the US in a heavily-trimmed 81-minute version emphasizing these elements likely contributed to its psychotronic reputation early on. (I am still interested in seeking out this cut, as I can't imagine the loss of 40 whole minutes wouldn't substantially alter the film's character.) It flirts with other genres as well. Certain scenes have a clear slapstick quality. Some of these involve Heinrich, the ever-reliable target of the film's ridicule, but there is also Margit Cartensen, playing Anna's friend and Mark-hater Marge, falling on her ass like a Three Stooges bit. And there's the climax, parodying action movies with its woozy cocktail of car chase, shootout and explosions, which leads a headlong rush into the film's apocalyptic final moments.

[chiefnooniensingh]

if it goes over their head - a buddie one-shot

A/n: based on @stiilesstilinski's gifset because it's just perfect.

Summary: Eddie and Buck are both bisexual disasters. Hen intervenes.

also on: ao3

Eddie was at the end of his patience. He didn’t know what the fuck he needed to do to make Buck see that he liked him. He’d been incredibly obvious about his advances, inviting him to family dinners, flirting near constantly at the firehouse, on calls, out on the town with Christopher… Either Buck was purposely ignoring his moves, or he was quite possibly the dumbest person alive.

Which, to be fair, was probably true.

They were between calls right now, having finally managed to eat a full meal prepared by Bobby, and everyone was hanging around, recovering from the excellent food, hoping against hope the next call was still far away. Buck was lounging on the couch in the TV area, and Eddie was staring at him. What did he have to do to make Buck see?

“Just go to him.” Eddie startled out of his reverie, seeing Hen standing next to him, looking exasperated. “I’m tired of watching you pine after him. Just tell him how you feel!”

“Easier said than done,” Eddie scoffed, scrubbing his face with a hand. “I don’t want to ruin the friendship we have, if he doesn’t feel the same way.”

Hen smiled sympathetically. “I get it, Diaz, but this…crush of yours in interfering with your work. You gotta deal with it,” she said, clapping him on the shoulder, “or people around here might deal with it for you.”

Eddie stared after her as she walked away, horror-struck. He was pretty sure ‘people’ mean ‘Hen and Chimney’ and if those two maniacs told Buck about his crush…hell no. Groaning under his breath, he got up and moved towards Buck, his stomach coiling.

“Hey, man,” Buck said, moving aside a little to make space for Eddie, who dropped onto the couch next to him. “That meal was the best thing I’ve ever had, I can’t believe how much I ate.”

Eddie laughed. “Yeah, you were kind of a maniac.”

“Hey, you ate almost as much as I did!” Buck exclaimed, punching Eddie in the shoulder.

“’Almost’ being the operative word, Buckley,” Eddie teased, and Buck snorted. It was the cutest thing Eddie had ever heard and his heart did a little skip. Biting his lip for a second, he made a decision. “Hey, Buck, can I ask you for some advice?”

“Yeah, of course, man. What’s going on?” Buck said, sitting up and looking serious. Eddie smiled. Buck was always there for him, no matter what. It’s what had made him fall for Buck in the first place.

“So I’ve been having this serious crush on someone.” It was happening.

Buck’s face lit up, a salacious grin forming on his face. “No way, Eddie Diaz with a crush? That’s a goddamn first!”

Eddie tried hard not to blush, but it was a losing battle. “Shut up. Anyway. I’ve been dropping them the most insanely obvious hints for, like, a year now. No response.” What the fuck are you doing? Eddie knew it was a coward’s approach, but he couldn’t get the words out.

“Wow,” Buck said, eyebrows raised and laughing a little, “they sound stupid.”

Eddie couldn’t help but smile. “They’re not. They’re really smart, smarter then they think they are. They’re just…really dense.”

Buck shook his head, letting out a puff of air. “Well…maybe you need to be more obvious?”

“More obvious?” Eddie said, letting out a laugh. He was pretty sure he’d done everything short of jumping Buck’s bones.

Buck pushed him away again but nodded. “Yes. I don’t know, like…‘hey, I love you!’.”

Eddie stared at Buck for a while. Sweet, clueless Buck. “Okay, I guess you’re right. Hey, Buck,” he said, looking straight into Buck’s eyes, his heart beating in his ears and his stomach coiling worse than ever, but he forced the words out anyway, “I love you.”  

Buck smiled broadly and clapped Eddie’s shoulder. “See! Just say that!”

Eddie didn’t know what he expected, but somehow this fit exactly in how this entire thing had been going so far. He stared at Buck for a second before dropping his head in his hand.  “Holy fucking shit,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. Buck didn’t seem to notice his exasperation.

“If that flies over their head,” Buck continued, smiling like he’d just saved the freaking day, “then I’m sorry, Diaz, but they’re just too dumb for you.” Before Eddie could respond, Buck rose and clapped Eddie’s shoulder once more. “Lemme know how it goes, man!” Then he walked off.

Eddie could only stare after him. He went over the conversation in his head, wondering if he’d still ben unclear about his intentions or if Buck was just that dense. How much clearer did he need to be? He was about to run after Buck to just kiss his stupid mouth, when he noticed Hen standing a few feet away, the most hilarious look of disbelief on her face. He just shook his head at her. Groaning out load, she paced forward and grabbed Buck’s arm to stop him from leaving. “Buck,” she said, her teeth gritting, “do me a favour, and go over that conversation in your head.”

“What?”

“Just…fucking do it, you absolute fucking idiot,” Hen said, in her most dejected and simultaneously most dangerous voice.

Buck sighed and stayed still for a while. Hen and Eddie both watched him, Hen with impatience and Eddie with bated breath. His eyes flicked to Hen every once in a while, whose eyeroll was so aggressive she looked in danger of getting her eyes permanently stuck that way.

Out of nowhere, Buck spun around and stared at Eddie. “What?!” he squeaked.

“There it is,” Hen sighed with relief. “You’re welcome!” And with that, she left quickly, leaving Eddie and Buck staring at each other awkwardly.

Eddie stood up, nerves coursing through his entire body. His stomach felt like it was about to send the food back up. “Buck…” he began, his voice quavering.

But Buck shook his head, holding up a hand. “Wait, what?” he repeated, still staring at Eddie like he didn’t really understand what he was seeing.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, unsure of what else there was to say. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for a year. Thanks for the advice, by the way.”

Buck stared at him for a moment longer, which felt like an eternity to Eddie, who felt increasingly uncomfortable and stupid. “Oh my god,” Buck breathed, “I am so fucking stupid.”

“No, Buck…” But Buck moved quickly, closing the distance between them in two big strides. Before Eddie could say anything else, Buck grabbed Eddie’s face and crashed their lips together. Eddie froze for a full second, before melting into the kiss completely. The entire world faded away, with Buck still in full focus, and Eddie wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close and deepening the kiss.

This is what he had wanted for a full year, and it felt absolutely surreal to be kissing Evan Buckley, at the fire house, in front of all their friends and colleagues. But it also felt absolutely right, like his body had been made to fit exactly against Buck’s, like he was meant to kiss Buck. It was their first kiss, and it was messy and sloppy, and yes, their teeth also clacked together more often than was strictly necessary (or comfortable), but neither of them really minded.

Buck was warm, and his hands were steady on Eddie’s cheeks and it felt like home.

After what felt like an hour, but in reality probably was only a minute or two, the two of them broke apart, and immediately the world returned to Eddie. There were wolf whistles and cheers going up all around the fire house, and Eddie noticed Chimney slapping money into Hen’s hand with a half-amused look, and Bobby receiving some money from Athena. Eddie made mental note to ask which bet it was that they won.

Right now, he couldn’t really care. He stared up at the man in his arms, whose face was completely flushed and whose lips were red. Eddie could only assume he looked similarly wrecked. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Buck said, and Eddie burst into laughter. “Really! I think I realized it when I saw you and Chris reunited after that tsunami. That what I was feeling for you went way beyond friendship.”

“Wow,” Eddie said, remembering the day better than he would like. He remembered that woman telling him Chris had been looking for Buck. He remembered seeing Buck, wet, dirty, bleeding, collapsing with relief, having just put everything he had into finding his son…he’d realized how much he cared about Buck right there, as well. “That’s when I knew as well.”

“I guess we’re both idiots,” Buck said, laughing hard.

Eddie chuckled, “Well, you more than me.”

“You think I haven’t been flirting? Jesus, Eddie, we really are both idiots.”

“Yes, you are. But you made me some serious cash!” Hen said, still collecting money from their colleagues.

Eddie and Buck turned to look at their friends, each and every one of them smiling at them with joy. It seemed all of them had known before either of them. Eddie looked up at Buck, who was smiling softly. “Hey,” he said, catching Buck’s attention. “Wanna go out tonight?”

Buck’s smile widened, looking like a kid who just got offered candy. “Very much so.”

“After our shift. I’ve got the perfect spot.”

“Interesting, I’m in.” Buck leaned in and captured Eddie’s lips in a kiss again. The two of them sank into each other, sparking another round of wolf whistles, which died down when they did not break apart after a while. Eddie could kiss Buck endlessly, but they were at work, so in the end Bobby broke them up with a smile and a gentle reminder that this was a workplace.

Eddie walked on air for the rest of the day.

[believerindaydreams]

in which we are introduced to a paradoxical lady

further adventures on the chicken fetch quest. leaves off on a cliffhanger, cos I’m debating a POV change after this 

It'd be hilarious, Tuco figures, if the situation wasn't so dire. A sharpened pitchfork is a vicious enough weapon to have left quite a slash down his arm, and that's gonna hurt like hell once the adrenaline wears off.

It is hilarious. He's got a chicken stuffed down his shirtfront, and its heavy fluffiness is the only thing stopping him from doubling over with laughter; while Blondie's busily defending the pair of them with a filthy trashcan lid. The clang of metal against metal has a fine lurid ring to it, just like in the movies...

only, well, this is infinitely stupider than anything on the silver screen.

"You thieving, n'er-do-well, good for nothing tramps!"

That's her kindest statement yet; for an old lady farmer, she's got a remarkable turn for cursing. Enough to give Tuco a pleasant flashback to Brooklyn, while he’s been improvising a bandage from the tattered remnants of his jacket. Of all times not to have his pack along...

"We'll give it back!" Blondie yells it, needlessly loudly in this quiet barn. A couple of the cows moo at him. "If you'd just quit trying to kill us, we'll leave the chicken here and never bother you again!"

"Think that's good enough? I'll call in the marines on you before I'm done!"

Now, that would not be good. Somewhere outside in the dark is Angel Eyes, keeping a lookout and waiting for them, and while he'd probably be smart enough to keep out of sight- just the split-second recollection of a diner makes Tuco wince.

"Aunt Huldah...it's me. Joseph. Your worthless nephew who ran off to be a Papist, remember?"

"Go on! Tell me why that should make a blind bit of difference!"

But she stops trying to eviscerate Blondie; and Tuco figures that's some progress.

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

"All things considered," Angel Eyes says aloud (after the farmhouse door has closed upon the hapless three; he's comfortably ensconced in a tree and inclined to remain so). "All things considered, it's just as well I never did take you along on an assassination, Blondie. With smarts like that, you'd have blithely wandered right into somebody's gun sights."

The hen he's holding turns its beak up, and clucks at him inquisitively.

"A caelo usque ad centrum...o gallus, have you any notion what a comedown your theft constitutes, from a past such as mine?"

Cluck, cluck.

"No. I don't suppose you do."

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

Apparently a snowball's chance in hell isn't bad at all, when kept safely inside the confines of a timeless globe. A house, a Christmas tree, two pink-cheeked twins staring at the soap flakes with open mouths. Shake the globe or not, they'll just keep gaping forever.

The small tacky horror stands out incongruously in this austere room, otherwise all hard wood and ruthlessly practical knitting. Probably why his heart's gone out to it. Poor thing doesn't belong here any more than he does.

"Do stop playing with that," Aunt Huldah says. "It's a family heirloom. That's antique Bakelite, Joseph's father brought it back from the Great Lakes Exposition."

"Sorry," Tuco mumbles. Puts it down carefully.

"It's been nice to see you again," Blondie says.

That's not a hustle, that's not anything but a simple barefaced lie. Blondie's holding his yellow china cup almost sideways, like he's forgotten what it's for; maybe hoping that a lapful of cold coffee will wake him up. Cristo, this is enough like a nightmare that'd make sense.

Three hours it's been, by his watch- who knows what Angel Eyes thought was happening, while freezing outside- and three quarters of that has been spent in silence. No radio or television or even talking. Nothing moving, only being, only two relations communing with each other while the quiet is so loud it's deafening.

"Joseph," the woman says. Her parched and weathered face shuddering a little in the attempt to smile. "It's so good to have you home again like this."

Okay, so a lie that passed muster. He should know better than to guess he has a handle on this situation- damn his arm. It itches.

"Shame about uncle."

Blondie's said that already. Twice, in fact; and that seems both not enough for the man who brought him up and yet so much needless repetition. The words ring in his head meaninglessly, and he listens until they lose all meaning; it sounds something at least like his partner in crime. Like a way out of here.  

If this room was frightening, he'd feel so much better; he's used to fear, he has ways and means of coping with that. This stiffness, on some level it has to be a kind of love, and that unnerves him far more than the woman who stabbed and cussed him out.

"Oh, it was."

"I should have been at the funeral."

"Yup."

They've just repeated a whole conversation they already had. Why couldn't it be Angel here to drink sugarless instant coffee, instead? Or he should have just been himself from the start, should have been loud and boisterous instead of waiting for Blondie to give him a cue. His partner's given him nothing all evening, he’s got nothing to work with. 

The itch in his arm is crazy, maddening. Tuco leans forward to put his cup down, uneasily conscious of the eyes following his every slightest motion. In this constricted universe, one lonely half-circle of lamplight, there's nothing else for them to consider.

So when he notices that the impromptu bandage is failing, dark liquid leaking from him in lazy slow driblets, he knows with frightful confidence that the two of them have observed it also; and can't understand why they don't act. Poor hospitality, that's understandable if inexcusable, but this is different.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Don't wonder, he tells himself. Don't think what will happen if you collapse against this knit throw, too weak to move.

(would they watch and sip coffee, until he bled out as white as they? stay here forever in unmoored indifference?)

(has he lost more blood than he's realised, to be nursing a fantasy that idiotic?)

Damn it, damn it. If he can't trust his instincts or his partner, sheer cussedness is going to have to pull him through. "Is there a- you know?"

Waves indistinctly. The syllables sound like an imposition.

"Down the hall to the right," Blondie says tonelessly.

"Thanks..."

The bathroom window is wide open; Tuco’s closed it tight before realising it's probably meant to be that way. Never mind. He could do with some warmth before stripping his shoulder bare.

Messy. Shallow, though; he sets his teeth and cleans it out with rubbing alcohol, wraps it up tightly with cloths from the linen cupboard. Too bad if Blondie's aunt doesn't like it. She shouldn't have run him through in the first place. 

Away from that winter room, his good sense is already starting to restore itself; he'd been right the first time, thinking he'd be okay. He will be. As soon as they get out of here.

There's a knock on the door.

"Out in a minute!" Must be the aunt. Blondie would have just walked in.

He runs the tap a little, cups his hands and drinks; tastes fresh on his tongue, good after that musty coffee. Dries them crudely on his pants, feels better.

Blondie all but falls on him, the moment he opens the door: limp and nerveless. "Tuco. Are you okay?"

"Be a lot better without your weight on me." He can’t muster up much anger for the quip; it’s too good to feel his partner's body against his. Tobacco and incense mixed, half-forgotten need making itself manifest again. Comfort as condolence. 

"I'm sorry." Grotesquely sincere, banal even. "She wants us to stay for dinner. We should get out of here. Go back to Angel, tell him what's going on-"

"Gilipollas."

"...I'm a what?"

"You know what that one means, Blondie, I've told you. You know what? You don't get to run out on your family just because you don't like them, I'm not going to let you leave this time." It's something he's never felt free to say, how incomprehensible and cruel he finds Blondie's lackadaisical attitude towards his family; he's always kept in touch with his, even if they haven't always seen each other much.  

"She's not like- your family. Tuco, she isn't."

"Tough. She wants you to stay for dinner, we're staying for dinner. It’s the least you can do for a lonely old woman like that."

"But what about Angel?"

"Dollars to doughnuts," Tuco says, pulling what's left of his jacket back on, "that Angel knew already whose farm this was and went home early when we didn’t leave. You know what he's like about planning ahead, you think he didn't put two and two together to figure out why you insisted on stealing from here in particular?"

"...I was thinking, maybe, it wouldn't count as stealing if it was my own family farm."

"The way you've described her soups, I think we're more than paying for it."

[ixhadbadxdays]

Detroit: Become Spooky; Horror Movie

Rating: General Ch: 30/31 Characters: North, RK900 Warnings: None

Cross-posted on AO3.

Nines, North found, did not like scary movies. It was surprising. The guy seemed so stoic and unaffected by the world around him that it seemed impossible for him to be scared.

They had all gathered to watch a movie together, and she noticed how Nines flinched when there was a jump scare. It was only in his eyes, but it was there. Even with Connor cuddled next to him, he was on edge. North felt kind of sad for him.

She and Nines were unlikely friends and a force to be reckoned with when they teamed up. His dry, straight-faced humor mixed with her quick sarcasm had them gossiping and dragging their friends and enemies. It was hilarious, and his soft laughter was worth it. It was rare that he smiled or laughed, which is what made his relationship with Connor seem strange. They were so different, and yet they complemented each other well. Although, she had seen him smile freely around Alice. He was better with kids than adults; it was sweet.

When everyone went to bed for the night, North stayed up, reading a book on ancient Greek religion. She always had a hard time sleeping and didn't bother until at least two am. So until then, she would read or play video games.

An hour later, Nines wandered into the common area with two mugs of coffee. He silently passed North's to her and took a seat on the couch with a slow sigh. Nines took a sip of his coffee.

North tasted hers and smiled slightly. Nines may be a little quiet about his acts of kindness, but they were there; sometimes, people didn't notice. It was the little things he did for people that showed how much he cared.

"The movies bother you?" she asked quietly.

"Unfortunately. Connor does not know, but I still watch them for his sake." Nines took another sip before continuing. "He likes them."

North scoffed. "There are some things that you shouldn't have to suffer through for your partner, Nines."

"But what about the give and take people talk about?"

"The safety of your mental health is more important. Connor cares about you. He'll understand if you explain it to him. He can watch them with Hank or something." She set her mug down. "Knowing him, he'll be more than happy not to pressure you. I mean, he'll still probably ask you out of courtesy, but he won't expect you to say yes and won't be upset."

"I know, but I do not like telling him 'no,'" he admitted, avoiding North's gaze. It was almost cute, she thought, to see Nines of all people looking sheepish.

"And? Learn to say 'no' and don't sacrifice your comfort in a situation like this."

Nines didn't respond right away, choosing to stare at the floor while he sipped his coffee. North could almost see the smoke coming out of his ears from thinking. It was comical that one of the most intelligent people she knew needed to take time to think; who knew he needed this long to process things?

Nines opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. Connor wandered in, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with one hand while the other tried to pull the too large pajama pants back up. The guy hated using the drawstring, and then he'd get irritated that they wouldn't stay up. He shuffled his feet as he made his way to the couch, leaning over the back to wrap his arms around Nines' neck from behind. Connor pressed a soft kiss to the top of Nines' head.

"What are you doing up, Connor?" Nines had relaxed the moment Connor appeared, small smile soft and adoring.

"Bed got cold." Because he had his face buried in Nines' hair, Connor's reply was slightly muffled. Nines's smile grew wry, and he reached up to run his hand through Connor's messy bedhead.

Ugh, North wanted to puke at how slow and gentle the two high-strung men became when they were around each other. The usually reserved couple had the sweetest shows of affection when they were comfortable around the other people in the room. North wasn't sure if she should feel honored or disgusted at how sappy they were.

They were almost as bad as...well, she couldn't say anything. She and Markus were...affectionate in public.

North grabbed her mug and knocked the rest of it back. "Thanks for the coffee, Nines. Just...think about what I said, okay?"

Nines met her gaze and nodded silently. Once she knew he heard her, North left the room to dump her mug in the kitchen and then to head for bed. She'd find a way to go to sleep. Markus would be happy that she was there sooner than usual; her insomnia worried him.

As she headed down the hall, she heard Connor and Nines quietly talking about the movie and what Nines needed. North snorted. Connor caved just as quickly to Nines as Nines did to Connor. She doubted there would be an issue here.

[trashartandmovies]

Berlinale Film Festival 2021, Industry Event, Day 2

One of the great treats of going to a film festival is getting the chance to wake up and see some transgressive mindfuckery first thing in the morning. This can be either thrilling, like seeing ANTICHRIST at 10:00 AM in Toronto and then being excited to see if the rest of the day’s movies can top that; or it can knock you out for the rest of the day, like seeing IRRADIATED at last year’s Berlinale and needing to process my contempt and hope for humanity.

Of course, part of the thrill of these experiences has been sitting with an audience and going through the mindfuckery as a collective, feeling the energy, seeing people walk out, getting through it together. When things are moved online, and the timing and schedule of your streaming film festival is more or less up to you, many pleasures are lost. But I have to say, there was a thrill in getting up at sunrise to put on some headphones and sit with THE SCARY OF SIXTY-FIRST, an effectively wild and perverse shriek of a movie from first-time director Dasha Nekrasova, and part of this year’s Encounters section.

Shot in New York City, on beautiful 16mm film, THE SCARY is a steep plummet down the conspiracy theory rabbit hole, triggered by the death of Jeffrey Epstein and two roommates moving into a new apartment on 61st Street that may be linked to the man and the sex trafficking ring he was involved with. These details are merely the place setting for an aggressive and sometimes messy assault on good taste and mainstream cinematic conventions. The two roommates descend into different kinds of madness — Addie seems to be possessed by some sort of evil within the apartment, while Noelle is quickly consumed by the conspiracy theories circling Epstein, the royal family, pizzagate, etc. Wedged between the two is Nekrasova herself, playing an amateur sleuth who indoctrinates Noelle with lurid websites, pharmaceutical speed, and sex. From there, the rabbit hole just keeps getting wider and weirder, Addie becomes obsessed with Prince Andrew and creepy tarot cards keep popping up. There will be blood.

I found it all pretty damn intoxicating, but I can understand that others will be put off by its shrillness and lack of subtlety. While the movie is dedicated to Stanley Kubrick, and it gets some inspiration from EYES WIDE SHUT, it’s more along the lines of John Waters crossed with John Carpenter. If you hated FEMALE TROUBLE, you may want to stay away from THE SCARY OF SIXTY-FIRST. Otherwise, this movie sits comfortably next to the kind of outre indie horror movies that got passed from VCR to VCR in the late 80s and early 90s. But what really makes THE SCARY kick, is how directly it speaks to the age of QAnon, the equal parts seduction and repulsion of violence, and the horror that comes from being trapped in a system you have no control over. My only complaint is that the film leans a little too heavily on old horror tropes right at the end, but this couldn’t take away the thrills it provided up to that point. I’m already looking forward to how Nekrasova might follow-up this one.

This year’s Golden Bear for best film went, deservedly, to Radu Jude’s BAD LUCK BANGING, OR LOONEY PORN. Another extremely transgressive film, this one takes a flamethrower to contemporary values in Romania and any other place where racism, sexism and authoritarian fetishism have taken root — meaning, it’s both very specific to Romania and quite universal.

The movie begins with a very graphic and absurdly funny home porno, being shot on a phone. Soon enough, we find out the woman in the video is Emi, a respected history teacher at a private school in Bucharest. The first act of the movie is Emi walking through Bucharest. The city is littered with signs of capitalism run amok, juxtaposed against fervent religiosity. Gambling and wholesomeness. Tastelessness and righteousness. The camera makes these connections with some choice camera panning maneuvers. These movements bring to mind Robert Altman’s style of movement — casual yet smart and impactful.

As Emi makes her way to her destination, the film’s regard for realism begins to deteriorate. Bit by bit, drivers begin showing less regard for the safety of pedestrians. Everyone is foul-mouthed and inconsiderate of others, even while wearing pandemic masks. If you can’t afford a car, who cares about you? It’s not that far from reality, but the pointed exaggerations start piling up and lead us into the mid-section of the film, where we’re treated to an A-Z montage of our most pressing issues and what’s wrong with the world. It both serves as a rundown of the topics that are going to present themselves in the final act of the movie, as well as more visual evidence of our corrupted values and moral decay. It’s a bitter and bleak hoot.

It’s all leading to a confrontation between Emi and her school’s parent-teacher board. It’s one of the most absurd, insulting and cuttingly insightful trials put on film. What are a teacher’s responsibilities outside the classroom? What if the teacher in this situation were a man? What if the teacher is also including lessons about Romanian history that today’s citizens would rather not deal with? All of this and much more is on the table for riotous discussion. More than once, someone cackles the Woody Woodpecker laugh when the debate really goes off the rails. While the visual language in the final act settles into a more conventional groove, the sound editing is something of a tour de force. It’s punchy, freewheeling, obscenely hilarious and brings the movie to an unbelievable final moment.

BAD LUCK is a hard act to follow. If I’d known how ambitious it was, I would have saved it for day’s final screening. But for better or worse, the next film was a very quiet, understated Competition title — this one from Hungary (which was well-represented this year), entitled NATURAL LIGHT. Written and directed by Nagy Dénes, this is a gorgeously shot war-is-hell movie that follows a weathered unit of Hungarian soldiers as they try to round up Russian partisans during WWII. Yes, the title of the movie perfectly describes the golden, autumnal hue of the movie, as it is primarily set in barren forests, small, sooty villages and fields with plenty of mud.

The film is based on a massive book by novelist Pál Závada, but Dénes made the interesting decision to just focus his movie on a few days in the life of István Semetka, who is forced to step up and take charge of his unit early on in the film. Aside from capturing the unrelenting force of their natural surroundings, cinematographer Tamás Dobos also does an amazing job of capturing people’s faces — not unlike the films of fellow countryman, Bela Tarr. Ferenc Szabó, who plays the beleaguered Semetka, has two of the most soulful eyes I’ve seen on screen lately. This is of critical importance since the film has very little dialog until a couple of well-written monologues at the end. Semetka’s eyes say it all.

As mournfully beautiful as it is, NATURAL LIGHT isn’t an easy movie to sit through. It’s quiet and heartbreaking. But this level of sorrow and atrocities is also very familiar to cinema. In a way, it’s unfair because this story, in its way, is unique. But the message of how indifferent war is to soldiers with good intentions, has been told before. Few movies, however, have told it in such a wordless and poetic way.

Throughout the history of film, there’s always been a struggle to turn good theater into cinematic art. When talkies began and TV took off, we turned to the wealth of good theater scripts that already existed as readymade source material that could meet the demand for content. Sometimes it works, and the scripts can be well-adapted into the cinematic language. Other times, it’s like we’re just looking at a filmed documentation of a theater piece, which relies heavily on the strength of the words and performance, and not on any tools of the filmic trade. Denis Côté’s new film does a neat job of adding a new wrinkle to this long tradition of finding ways to turn monologues and long chunks of dialog between two people into an engaging work of film.

Côté has always had a strong experimental streak to his work, and even though he wrote this script and titled it “Social Hygiene” in 2015, it would seem that the current pandemic gave him the final push to turn the unusual idea of long, socially distant conversations in a field into a movie. Aside from a few shots that follow a young woman as she walks through nature, says hi to some livestock and offers an intermission dance sequence, SOCIAL HYGIENE is a series of static shots, framing different sections of rolling Canadian countryside, and containing a couple of people talking to each other across a certain distance. The framing, the sounds, the tone and rhythms of the conversation, are all very stylized. And in its way, perfectly cinematic. Côté pays attention to the ambient noises during these scenes. Birds turn into a cackling audience, construction noises go quiet and resume at just the right moments — it’s all very well-orchestrated.

The story and conversations of SOCIAL HYGIENE have nothing to do with the pandemic. It’s the fairly universal story of a charismatic, smooth-talking guy of unmet potential, who is consistently disappointing the women in his life. This man is Antonin, and we first meet him as he bickers with his sister. While Antonin is married, he’s currently living in a friend’s car, getting by through small-time theft and avoiding plans that might improve his lot in life, like working on that screenplay he’s been kicking around. Both his wife and his mistress try to prod him in the right direction, but he’s such a charmer that he enjoys spinning his destitution as the life of a lovable rogue, who’s morals and values can’t be met by traditional means.

More than any other film seen, so far, from this year’s Berlinale lineup, SOCIAL HYGIENE had me laughing-out-loud the most. And I’m very willing to admit that this is likely due to how much I related to Antonin’s faulty reasoning. But it’s also due to the fact that the script is supremely sharp and its deadpan delivery brought to mind Hal Hartley’s films. Like Hartley, Côté is anti-realist in his staging and delivery, meticulous in his timing, and yet uses humor to get at some very fundamental human dilemmas. I love Hartley and miss his sensibility dearly. So, yes, I loved every minute of SOCIAL HYGIENE.

Even with a press pass, it can be a challenge to sit for every Competition screening. There are simply too many other films that call for your attention. But in this streaming scenario, I was committed to seeing every last one. I felt like I didn’t have any good excuse not to when you can make your own daily schedule. So, Xavier Beauvois’s ALBATROS (or DRIFT AWAY, as it may end up being called in your neck of the woods) got a late Tuesday night home screening. It didn’t go down well.

The only one of Beauvois’s previous films that I’m familiar with is 2005’s THE YOUNG LIEUTENANT, which follows a homicide detective in La Havre. ALBATROS follows a police chief in the much more idyllic region of Normandy. Jérémie Renier plays the cop, Laurent, and just as the movie starts, he’s just proposed to his girlfriend of ten years, with whom he already has a young daughter. In the next scene he’s cleaning up after a suicide on the beach, and then there’s news of child abuse by local resident, and his friend is at the end of his rope dealing with farming regulations. Things are piling up quickly, and the chipper Laurent is soon getting edgy and taking his work home with him.

The beginning of the movie isn’t bad. It’s clearly building to something and it can hold your interest while it does that. But when that shoe drops, the film goes off the rails and descends into a completely ridiculous and phony final act. It doesn’t help matters that Beauvois never really finds an interesting visual language with which to tell this story. From the get-go, his camera is just there, shooting scenes and conversations in a way that makes everything seem slightly off and unnatural. It feels like things are being staged, much as the wedding photo on the beach that gets interrupted by a death at the very beginning. Unfortunately it never shakes this feeling, and two hours later, you can’t believe that you’re watching an ending so clichéd that Hollywood would probably think twice before giving it a greenlight. It’s the kind of denouement that is so cheesy and unearned that instead of choking back tears, you feel completely cheated.

Aside from ALBATROS, Day Two was a rich abundance. The punk stylings of THE SCARY OF SIXTY-FIRST, the anarchic Molotov cocktail of BAD LUCK BANGING OR LOONEY PORN, the austere meditation of NATURAL LIGHT, the playful theatrics of SOCIAL HYGIENE — these all had something special to offer. Tomorrow, we’ll visit China, France, Georgia and, once again, Hungary, for two more films with big rewards and two that struggled to transcend their formal trappings.

[yellowsugarwords]

Walking Dead Game FanFiction - "It's Out Now"

[resmarted]

come closer, cherub. we are taking a ride into a b movie plot where you are a dashing handsome executive GUY OK fine just lower your voice. you are a hot guy too, let’s say like a tall mark cuban power leo; yes, this is the first and last time you get to be a grown man and have height, ok? i’m already regretting it so pipe down. you are some big shot and you wear fresh tailored suits, your bad habits include smoking cigarettes, reading too much news, drinking too much coffee, and basically you get to be me for a day if i was rich and handsome and wore nice clothes and a real person. okay, you know what? this sucks and i already hate it, scratch all of that. i am an alternate universe version of myself that kept trying and applying to stuff despite x amount of rejection letters, and finally get my dream job writing at nickelodeon. ever since high school i remember being like wow, kids shows suck so hard now. the quality just took a nosedive and everything got real bright and doofy and over the top. i was always like back in my day we had salute your shorts and pete & pete and the quality was much higher and it didn’t depend on how hot the kids were, it was content made for kids and not just commercial bullshit being sold to them. or at least it tried to seem that way. like i don’t know, let’s say i do make it and i go in there like, here i come mainstream media for kids! i’m here to save you and reboot are you afraid of the dark? etc. and i get there and of course it’s nothing like i thought it would be. it’s full of gross men who are unimaginative and think everything they say is hilarious. it’s got me working eighty hour weeks and the machine continues to grind my bones to dust. it isn’t until i have clawed my way higher into my career - this is like a motivated version of me, just use your imagination - that i learn the darker sides of the industry i’ve become so deeply enslaved to. i can’t psychologically separate myself from my work and my loyalty to this company that treats people like shit, uses kids as props to sell whatever it is the sponsors are hawking, and emotionally and sexually abusing them as they please bc hey, this is hollywood, baby. somewhere between amanda bynes’ coked out tantrums and jamie lynn spears’ on set diva antics, i realize they’re all enduring god knows what in the producers’ office with literally the grossest looking dudes alive. jamie lynn gets pregnant by one of them and a boy is paid off to say it’s his, and it’s not but she gets to escape the grime of child stardom just the same. amanda too gets pregnant by him but is forced to abort it, and her body and mind never recover. she is deemed too fat now for a starring role and they dangle emma stone in front of her, just to show her what she is not. i hate my dream job, turns out it’s a fucking nightmare. i’m working late one night and am in the bathroom splashing water on my face. that’s when you come in. in the mirror your signature stare is looking back at me and oh, shit! suddenly i’m the one in an episode of are you afraid of the dark. what the fuck are you doing here? you’re the ghost of my thirteen year old best friend that killed herself in the summer between sixth and seventh grade. you’re of course a dreamy dream dreamgirl goth, duh. we both were; well i was more alternative, army jackets and such. our friendship in middle school could not be matched, we were our own cult. or is it a cult of our own? a cult unto ourselves? now you’re a slightly transparent ghost (translucent?) because this is a late eighties early nineties style visual fx ok it’s all i could afford. you stand there, well sorta floating, and you have the same sarcastic smirk on your face that you always had. i’m a grown adult staring at the ghost of my childhood friend in the office bathroom of my workplace after hours, and suddenly i am in a surreal haze, wondering if maybe this is delirium from not sleeping for days on end. you start to laugh and then go what’s the matter? you look like you’ve seen a ghost. very funny, tortoise, i instinctively respond back to you with the nickname i gave you for always taking too long to look at every little thing everywhere we went, it drove me nuts. then out loud i asked, am i awake? wait, am i alive? you roll your eyes at me like god what a giant dork you still are, and suddenly a person walks in. it’s the janitor coming to clean and suddenly you’ve disappeared. i must be suffering from some sort of hysteria, but wait, doesn’t that involve more of a verbal panic? i’m quiet and calm and collected and nobody knows i just saw my dead best friend from middle school in the bathroom, whatever. i’m fine. i’m fine! who am i trying to convince? there’s no one even in the office. when i twirl around in my chair you’re sitting on the other end of my desk going, you should really consider tidying all this up, you know. i gasp and cover my mouth immediately, almost afraid of how afraid i’m starting to get. you roll your eyes and lean back like look, i’m not here to help you figure out if i’m real or a figment of your imagination, like who even really knows, yknow? well ok, i mean i do, but you definitely don’t. i’m sitting in awe staring at you, your mannerisms and your vernacular, the way you carried yourself and spoke of things like a bored old man, and it’s all so you. yours wasn’t the average teen suicide, you didn’t do it during the school year and nobody had a clue you were actually depressed. you were so sarcastic and could easily put anyone in their place, like it was just a flick of the wrist for you, and despite your quirky appearance you were well liked amongst classmates. we were weirdos, sure, but not total outcasts. and if we were it was because we were so bored by everyone that we considered them unfit to be in our social lives. you weren’t bullied into it, at least not by us. your stepdad, on the other hand, and having to live with him every day during the summer, is what i had always figured drove you to it. you openly loathed him and one time we made a voodoo doll out of a cabbage patch kid and bid him to eternal damnation. nothing happened from it, and instead you had to live in this constant hell. he found reasons to ground you, to punish you, humiliate you, make you feel weak and unlovable, and when he wasn’t emotionally abusing you he was doing it in other ways. he degraded you repeatedly and by july you were gone, just like that. you escaped your house of horrors and i lost the only person that ever made any sense to me. people tried to be my friend afterward and i hated it, i hated the extra special attention and the extended invitations to join lunch tables by people who would never speak to me before. now i’m a grownup with a big job and you’re still thirteen, sitting here in your favorite jacket and boots that you always wore, giving me shit for my messy desk space. i look at you half annoyed like we’re still in the cafeteria of thomas jefferson elementary and half terrified for my life and general sanity. i need a vacation, that’s what this must be. i’m so stressed i’m having hallucinations, and i just maybe need to book a resort spa in jamaica or whatever it is people rich enough to take vacations do. you show up in different areas of the office, every time i turn around you’re suddenly in a chair spinning around, then i turn around and you’re in another, your boots up on the desk while you roll a pencil between your teeth. you start talking about old memories, and while i’m having a panic attack you’re saying stuff like dude, remember when ava larson got her period and suddenly got huge tits and we secretly called her bazoonga boobs larson? i scream out oh my god i’m having a breakdown and you’re like, look i don’t have a lot of time here, can you just accept what you see before i flicker and fade out forever? i’m freaking out like, what?? i’m on a security camera standing up talking to no one, surrounded by spinning chairs and a floating pencil. the janitor walks by, assumes i am a witch, and leaves. finally, you look at me very seriously and are like, you need to break into dan schneider’s lockbox he keeps behind a stack of papers in his office. what the fuck? i can’t do that, there’s no way. besides, if he sees it missing he can just spot me on security footage. you look at me and suddenly all the lights go out. you don’t break when you say, not if there’s no electricity. hurry. i have an outer body experience where i’m watching myself now, and almost as if i was some kind of cia agent or a stunt double that plays one on tv, i’m in and out like a ninja. you tell me to hide it under my coat and casually walk out as the electricity all flickers back on. you tell me to take the elevator like normal and that i’ll know what to do from there. will i? wait, aren’t you coming? you’re like i can’t, there’s strict rules about these things. i'm walking into the elevator when i turn around and say i miss you, tortoise. you raise an eyebrow and say i don’t miss you at all. i mean i’m around you constantly, do you have any idea how loud you snore, brosephina? the elevator doors close and in my fancy ass pad i open a box that is filled with child porn, personally produced by dan with the help of staffers, the pigs i have had to answer to for years. they’re all in it. ariana, the icarly girls, emma roberts, all of them. i have a breakdown for real now, and i don’t really know what to do from here. honestly even i don’t know how it ends. like, i want it to be satisfying and have the villain taken down, because in this world they likely never will. that fucker is probably never going to get tattled on and neither are most of these gross children’s tv execs. maybe in our world he mysteriously dies in a fire along with all the evidence. maybe we manage to break the pyramid from the bottom and the power structure crumbles completely. whatever happens, i hope you come back to me and stay a while this time.