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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years ago

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The Stripping Point

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: E (explicit sexual content) Word count: 6387

Happy Birthday, @spiderman-homecomeme!

Summary: Peter's ready to turn his new hobby into a profitable sideline. Unfortunately, he writes down his very first client's address incorrectly and shows up at the wrong house.

MJ opens the door to find some guy dressed as Spider-Man and decides the best way to mess with him is to let him stay. Almost immediately, she loses the upper hand.

Quarantine puts people out of work. A lotta people at first, then less, but never Peter. He keeps shooting for the Bugle, lugging his camera all over the city (instead of squeezing onto buses and subway cars that never really get that much less crowded) while he breathes heavily through his mask. He only takes pictures at outdoor spaces to try to avoid both crowds and loners who hassle him for taking preventative measures during the pandemic. They’re stressed, he gets that, but Peter doesn’t wanna be anywhere near conflict. Spider-Man, on the other hand… Well, when he puts on that mask, it’s pretty much business as usual. He appreciates his face covering more than ever and, hey, it’s cool to do a job with social distancing built in.

His gratitude for the web-slinging side-gig only increases as the weeks of pandemic life stretch into months and Jameson starts ordering him back into situations that are just plain stupid from a health perspective. Never mind that he got kinda accidentally stabbed the other week. It’s a totally different set of dangers. Peter resists the new assignments and because Jameson’ll be in deep shit if his number one Spider-Man photographer makes a fuss about working conditions (and because people are getting so desperate for employment that he can pay a new hire even less than Peter’s paltry freelancing rate), the Bugle shells out for another photographer to cover the work Peter won’t do. Good for Peter’s health, bad for Peter’s bank account―which is already whimpering with hunger pangs from sitting near-empty after paying rent. This gets him thinking. It might be time to turn his early-quarantine hobby into his mid-to-late-quarantine money-maker.

Yeah, pandemic hobbies! By April, it seemed to him like everybody was picking something up. Bread-making, yoga, sewing masks for healthcare workers left criminally under-equipped. The hobby Peter picked up, well… it’s a little different. He began practicing it indoors (obviously), by himself, and with skills gained from reading and watching material on the internet. In those ways, it’s a lot like other people’s hobbies. In some other ways, it’s very, very different. Like, instead of putting on specialized clothing like an apron or yoga pants, Peter’s hobby requires taking clothes off. It’s stripping. Peter’s hobby is stripping.

A few things led to him picking that over sourdough or Sun Salutations. Peter loves not only old movies but also old music. Old movies with iconic dance scenes? That’s, like, the perfect combo. He spends a lot of his downtime playing music in his apartment and, when he’s not wiped or injured, dancing along. He figures it’s good for his mood as well as his fitness. Seriously, he can only do so many chin-ups on the metal bar braced in his bathroom doorframe (which is starting to crack). Patrick Swayze’s solo routine from the end of Dirty Dancing is way more fun, even if Peter did tear the knees on a couple pairs of sweatpants because of it. The more music he listened to, the more he started freestyling his own moves in between those of leading men. It was that―trying to create something good of his own―that helped him understand the routines he watched. He figured out the balance between precision and sex appeal and somewhere in there, he realized he was performing for an audience in his head. And what this imaginary audience wanted wasn’t always the goofiness of acting out Risky Business and sliding across the short strip of bare floor between his kitchen and living room in socks, underwear, and a white shirt. Sometimes, the audience wanted him to lose the shirt.

At that point, Peter was once again wandering out of what he knew. He was comfortable with movie dances, had a little of his own repertoire, but he lacked this extra element of storytelling; it was the one that took him from fully dressed down to boxers and socks without tripping and struggling and falling into his meager possessions. That was when he turned to the internet and confronted the fact that he wanted to learn how to strip. If he happened to stumble into related tutorials on how to give a lap dance, who would know? Who was there to judge Peter as he performed for an empty kitchen chair, dragging his hand along the back and body-rolling to buck his hips towards where someone’s face would be? Yeah, it was kinda embarrassing while he was learning, but he had the endurance to try a move over and over until he nailed it, the strength to draw out isolated movements like twitching his hips to keep his butt drawing circles on the lap of his invisible patron, and the overall coordination of, well, Spider-Man. Which ends up being the most important piece of all because, when Peter decides to take his show on the road (or at least out of his tiny apartment), his ‘stage’ name requires about a second of thought. Spider-Man. He’ll go by Spider-Man. He laughs his ass off when he thinks of it. It’s fucking genius! Spider-Man stripping as himself is the last thing anyone would ever suspect!

Naturally, Peter can’t use any of his actual Spidey suits. Those would probably give him away. Also, he’d feel weird about having Karen’s voice in his ear while he flexed his abs next to somebody’s head. Fortunately, after a little digging―which turns into a lot of digging and leaves his room a mess of comingled clean and dirty clothes―he finds his original suit. The zip-up hoodie plus sweatpants one. Yeah, its technological capabilities are basically zero, it’s a little grimy, and too tight, but he doesn’t need it to do anything besides come off. The wear-and-tear will lend genuine-fake authenticity to his character and the snugness around his more developed muscles (it’s been a decade since he wore it last) will make it… sexier? He guesses? The most important thing is the mask, which is the only part of his costume he won’t strip off. Apart from his underwear, obviously. He’s not that wild.

He gets to work cutting a vertical line up each leg of his sweatpants, then sews in snaps. Boom, tearaways. They look kinda shitty, but if he’s any good at all, whoever he dances for shouldn’t be staring at loose threads.

So Peter has his moves, his costume, a few songs in mind, and no engagements. Oh, he thinks he can figure out how to get jobs, it’s just that he somehow keeps coming home, sitting down to compose his ad, and then doing something completely different instead. He’s truly scared witless. Nobody’ll see your face, he chants in his mind to psych himself up every time he’s heading home to his apartment. Still, he freezes at his laptop. There’s nothing about his body that he’s ashamed of―he uses it every single day to help people as Spider-Man. Maybe it’s that, this time, he’d be using it to help himself. Is he a monster for making a buck off his superhero persona? Peter holds onto that question for about a week until the date to pay rent is approaching and his bank account shudders in horror. Ok, money’s tight and he hasn’t been hit by a car lately, so he won’t freak anybody out with road rash or bruising or more of his hand-sewing to close gashes. With a little self-pedicure here and hair-removal there, Peter looks at himself in his bathroom mirror and decides this is as good a time as any.

He advertises online and his hands are still trembling when he gets a call from an unfamiliar number ten minutes after his ad goes live. The ringing phone actually makes him jump. It’s probably a telemarketer, or a wrong number. Nobody would call him with a job this fast. He was counting on having at least a day to sit with the choice he made. Peter fumbles for the phone and answers. For the next minute and a half, he struggles to hear the woman’s voice over the blood rushing in his ears. She thinks he’s the Spider-Man Stripper. He is the Spider-Man Stripper. This is hilarious and terrifying and oddly similar to the brief moment of freefall between slinging one web and the next as he darts around Midtown. Her friend’s birthday party, she tells him, two days from now. Something else she planned (Peter’s adjusting his sweaty, slipping grip on his phone and misses the details) fell through and if he can be the entertainment for a half-hour or so it would save both the party and her friendship. Not to add extra pressure, she jokes, laughing. The sound Peter makes is a weak echo. So can he be there? Is there space in his schedule? He pretends to check that ‘schedule’ so she doesn’t think he’s a total amateur. Yep, yep, he has an opening for her. She has an opening for him, she flirts back, making his eyes go wide as he clutches the phone. God, why couldn’t his first gig have been for some 22-year-old’s bachelorette instead of this middle-aged-sounding woman who possibly wants to eat him alive? By the time she’s telling him her address, Peter’s hands are shaking worse than ever, he can’t immediately find a pen, and she reels it off to him way too quickly. He’s scrawling the address on his arm and right as he opens his mouth to ask her to repeat it, she hangs up. He peers at his arm doubtfully. Should he call her back for confirmation? No, he doesn’t have the guts. Anyway, he can figure this out. The street name was Woodman, right? Or was it Woodlawn? And the number was 712. Or 271. There was definitely a 7 in there somewhere. And his client’s name was… Lisa? Lana. Maybe Linda?

Peter cradles his face in his hands and groans. When his phone starts ringing again―different number―he frantically declines the call, then deletes his ad. One job at a time. Even that, he now thinks, seems ambitious.

―

MJ’s glad she’s not the one throwing this party together. As Liz’s best friend, it’s Betty who took the reins, organizing and then scrapping everything more than once as New York moved from phase to phase during this pandemic. The end result is still less than what MJ knows Betty wants; ideally, there would be more than a handful of guests and things like shiny helium balloons and fancy desserts would be hand-delivered to Liz’s front door on the day of the party. Instead, MJ sits on the arm of Liz’s couch as she inflates yet another latex balloon the good old-fashioned way: blowing it up by mouth until she’s dizzy.

Cindy stomps over and plops down next to her, snatching a balloon from the party pack of 50 (and Betty insists they need them all). She’s been banished from cupcake decorating. MJ would offer a word or two of sympathy, but balloon duty has the prior claim on how she spends her breaths. All she can do is toss Cindy a plastic tiara (Betty bought one―just one!―reading ‘Mom-to-Be’ for Liz, but the online shop screwed up her order and sent two dozen ‘Birthday Girl’ tiaras in its place) after tying off her finished balloon. MJ’s already wearing one. Meanwhile, the tiara-less Mom-to-Be is being driven around the block a million times by her cousin because they’re having the party at Liz’s place and Betty wants the decorations to be a surprise. Liz’s husband, more simply, was banished for the entire day. MJ originally thought they could’ve put him to work, since it’s pretty hectic, but she’s too oxygen-deprived to worry anymore.

Finally, Betty declares from the kitchen that she’s frosted her final cupcake. MJ begs for a reprieve from balloon-inflating and Betty, feeling accomplished and generous, agrees they probably have enough balloons now. Cindy casts her half-inflated one away in disgust before going to help Betty clean up baking ingredients and do dishes. MJ does her best to shoo the balloons to one side of the living room, then carries spare chairs in because their couch won’t fit everyone. Fortunately, they’ve all been recently tested for illness and been vigilant hand-washers and mask-wearers since then, so at least she doesn’t have to find a way to keep every seat six feet apart. She’s just positioning a final chair, still a little out of breath from the balloons, when the doorbell rings. In the kitchen, Betty screams.

“IT’S STILL A MESS IN HERE! STALL HER!”

“’K!” MJ agrees.

She kicks a couple stray balloons out of her path and goes to get the door. They weren’t supposed to come back to the house until Betty texted, but maybe they got tired of driving around, or Liz started feeling carsick. MJ knows she’s been pretty delicate her entire pregnancy with twins floating around in her uterus like a pair of nausea-inducing astronauts.

As she opens the door wide, she sucks in a deep breath to call out a sarcastic ‘Surprise!’ But it’s not Liz and her cousin. It’s… a guy? In a red and blue costume. She thinks it’s a guy. She can’t even see the person’s face, but when MJ reaches up to self-consciously adjust her ‘Birthday Girl’ tiara, they tilt their head and seem to follow her movement.

“Oh! I’m here for you! You’re… not what I was expecting.” It’s a masculine laugh. Young. Nervous.

She crosses her arms suspiciously.

“You’re not what I was expecting either,” she accuses.

“Shit,” he mumbles. “I guess it was supposed to be a surprise.”

What? Betty might have planned a few surprises for today, but MJ does not recall a dude in a mismatched sweatsuit being one of them.

“Guess so,” she says slowly.

“Sorry, I’m, uh, Spider-Man.” He gestures to the costume. Well, she can kinda see the very distant resemblance to what the real Spider-Man wears; there is a crudely-drawn spider on the chest.

“Uh huh.”

MJ’s suspicion is shifting into amusement―this guy really seems to think he has an invitation―when Cindy comes up behind her. MJ darts a look at her friend and is glad Cindy’s no longer sporting her own tiara. No need to confuse this poor… Spider-Man impersonator.

“What’s up?” Cindy asks, poking her chin over MJ’s shoulder, happier now that she’s fled the tasks Betty continually assigns.

“Hey,” says ‘Spider-Man’. “I, uh, I was hired to, uh, dance for the, um…” He gestures at MJ’s tiara. “…birthday girl.”

At ‘dance,’ MJ’s eyebrows shoot up. She looks quickly at Cindy and realizes she’s going to say something. Cindy will handle this how she handles any inconvenience or anomaly: with forthrightness and concision. She’ll have this faux-venger hitting the road before MJ can blink. With a short, friendly laugh towards Spider-Man, MJ angles herself to block Cindy from view and locks eyes with her friend. Cindy’s face says, What are you doing? We don’t know this guy. MJ’s counters with, Let’s see how this plays out. Cindy rolls her eyes, but nods, so MJ steps away from her again.

“As long as you haven’t traveled outside the country in the last fourteen days or experienced symptoms of fever, etcetera etcetera, come on in,” Cindy invites, gesturing Spider-Man through the doorway. “I’m so sorry, but we were running a little behind with the food, so I have to disappear back to the kitchen. But why don’t you get started for her?”

“Cindy,” MJ hisses as she closes the door. “You have to stay.”

“I believe the man said he was here for the birthday girl.”

Cindy smirks and they both glance over to see that Spider-Man has found the speaker and connected his phone. Something catches MJ’s eye and her gaze skims down his leg. What’s up with the side of his pants?

“I’m not the birthday girl,” she reminds Cindy in a panicked whisper. “There is no birthday girl.”

“Well, in her absence, it looks like you’re the one getting her presents. Careful with that one.”

“Because it seems fragile?”

“Because I feel like it’s the kind that comes with a big package.”

Cindy pokes MJ hard in the side and flees when she squirms away. MJ glares after her. Yes, she’s curious about what the hell this impersonator’s doing here in that crappy costume, but it’s so much easier to be curious when she can observe something unfolding without actively having to participate. What she was thinking was that he’d come in and the three of them―Betty, Cindy, and herself―would see how far this went before something either gave them away as not being the people who ‘hired’ him (so he claims), or the guy crumbled under the quavering weight of his own anxiety. Nothing about his look or his manner announces experience. Now, MJ’s on her own as she takes a seat in one of the chairs she brought in. She crosses her legs, bobs her foot, and hopes to hell that Spider-Man’s a breakdancer.

“Listen…” she begins to say, leaning forward to address him, but as she speaks, he turns up the volume and her uncertain voice is drowned out by chimes tinkling above throbbing bass. Oh no.

It’s the tempo that scares MJ. She thinks she could deal with a rabbiting drum intro or the bright squeal of quick fingers on an electric guitar. This song is tauntingly slow and it’s obvious, by how Spider-Man turns in her direction and walks to her with measured steps, that what she’s about to experience will look nothing like handstands or the worm, nothing youthfully, recklessly acrobatic. It’s also clear that she’s in this alone now because the guy putting his back to her and swirling his hips with agonizing slowness as the gravelly vocals come in is in some kind of zone she can’t follow him into.

When I look in your eyes… the song goes. …I can feel the fire.

Nope, MJ’s outside of this, in the real world, where she hears him lower the zipper on his sweatshirt. When he rotates to face her, taking his time, she finds her hands are gripping the seat on either side of her thighs.

A see-through disguise can’t conceal desire.

Spider-Man’s disguise is hardly see-through―seriously, he must’ve been sweltering in those sweats on his way here―but it’s open now, from his clavicle down to where the band of his pants grips his taut abdomen. He probably can’t hear the groan that pushes out of her mouth when she’s just trying to exhale. God, please let the music cover it, MJ thinks. His hood’s still up as he steps even closer to her chair, subtly twitching his hips in her direction, and the ends of his sweatshirt dangle, flashing glimpses of more chest, more abs. MJ swallows and reminds herself that this is all kind of a joke. That she’s the one indulging him and they’ll laugh when this is over. She’ll apologize for the mix-up and he’ll shrug it off as he accepts monetary compensation for his time.

I’ve been readin’ your lips… the singer announces in a louder growl. Spider-Man abruptly strips the blue sleeves from his costume, leaving his torso bare beneath what’s now just a hooded red vest. He’s a fake superhero, but those arms are the real deal. Wow. …they don��t need no translation.

He widens his stance, drawing her eye down to his solid-looking thigh, then slides his hand across her shoulder to grip the back of her chair. His hips roll forward and she instinctively uncrosses her legs. With the extra room, Spider-Man briefly presses his thigh to hers. It scrunches the hem of her dress up before dragging it back down as he retreats. It’s reasonably innocent, likely not even intentional, but heat flares up MJ’s face like one of the candles she might blow out if this were actually her birthday. Honestly, she keeps forgetting it’s not.

They want more than a kiss, I come to make my donation.

Ok, she feels more than just thigh when he glides higher on her lap. MJ automatically flicks her gaze lower, because he’s a stranger and right in her space, and it lands on his groin. Spider-Man bucks suggestively and MJ immediately raises her eyes from the bump in the front of his close-fitting sweatpants. Jesus, is it warm in here? Somebody should do something about that before Liz gets home, fiddle with the thermostat or, or something…

So turn out the lights! the singer’s voice rockets up and goosebumps ripple up MJ’s arms as Spider-Man’s hands smooth down them in his fingerless gloves. He bounces low into a crouch and can’t be more than an inch away from the fabric of her dress as he rolls up her body, face in her lap for, I’m goin’ down slowly. Her pounding heart and rapid breathing almost push her boobs into his forehead when he reaches her chest.

Don’t tell me what’s right, just tell me you want me.

When their heads are level, Spider-Man surprises her by sitting lightly on her lap, nearly chest-to-chest. He takes her hands in his―MJ’s sufficiently stunned to allow him to break her grip on the seat―and guides them to his head, making her push his hood off. It’s strange to feel the mask under her palms. Wondering what his hair looks like really shouldn’t be a main concern right now.

Oh, tell me you want me. Just tell me you want me, want me, want me!

The more insistent the song becomes, the more persuasively Spider-Man gyrates in her lap. Sliding a hand over his head shouldn’t be this seductive without visible hair to push his fingers through, but the way his arm bulges with the motion makes up for it, in her opinion. MJ doesn’t know what to do with her hands. They hover in the air between their bodies.

Let’s make it, baby! the song explodes as he thrusts forward powerfully, throwing his head back.

Well, let’s make it, baby!

His hands go to his shoulders.

Well, let’s make it, baby!

He works his vest off, revealing the rest of his chest.

Let’s make it, baby!

He flings the vest toward the sofa. MJ doesn’t know whether or not it lands there. She doesn’t turn to look. This is… more muscle than she’s ever seen in person on a single human body. Once more, he takes hold of the back of her chair, but it’s with both hands now and his forearms squeeze her in, compelling her to lean forward as he grinds across her lap, forward and back, to, Come, come, come a little bit closer. His face angles into her neck; she feels his nose brush her skin through the mask. She can hear him breathing and it electrifies her. The only reason she clamps her thighs together like she does is to give him more room to straddle her. Really, it’s for his comfort, as a professional. Because this is all just… very professional.

She hasn’t determined where to lay her hands, which is fine because he has another use for them.

I wanna play doctor, the singer drawls while Spider-Man brings her hands to his pecs. Is his heart beating as hard under there as hers is right now or is she imagining it? He effortlessly takes gentle hold of her wrists and encourages her hands down his body. She doesn’t even notice when he lets her go to peel the gloves from his hands and push his sneakers off, leaving MJ to trace the thick, defined ridges of his abdomen.

It keeps gettin’ harder, harder, harder to keep it away!

With the end of the line, Spider-Man rips the sweatpants off―a series of metallic popping sounds too close together to count. Not that counting’s on her mind. Eyeing the cherry-red boxer-briefs that are even tighter than the sweats, she swallows. She can’t remember how to exist on the outside of this. She can’t find the door. Believing that this guy―who’s not really Spider-Man, just like she’s not really a birthday girl―understands, that they’re sharing the scorching intimacy she suddenly feels, is naïve. MJ is not naïve. She just can’t exactly explain why what should be an obvious (skillful, but obvious) pantomime of sex is working on her like real foreplay.

I wanna taste the sweat…

She swears he’s breathing harder than the dancing alone can explain when he palms her knees and pries them apart. Her legs are slack and willing. She is sweating.

…that’s runnin’ over your body.

Tucking his fingers into the backs of her knees, Spider-Man jerks her forward on her seat. It raises her hem to mid-thigh and her pulse to low orbit. He hikes her legs around his hips and she crosses her wrists behind his neck without guidance as he stays in what has to be a strenuous squat to body-roll. Everything comes forward in a delicious wave, from his shoulders to his crotch. From lots of angles, it probably looks like he’s fucking her into Liz’s kitchen chair.

In actuality, there’s no contact between them―not anyplace interesting―until…

Get the sheets all wet!

MJ doesn’t know if his hips nudge between her legs accidentally or intentionally on an overzealous roll. She’s never been given a lap dance before! Is this right? Is this permitted? He seems ready to run with it, repeating the action with greater certainty.

Yeah, I wanna make ya feel nau-nau-nau-nau-nau-nau-nau-naughty!

When the singer quits stuttering out the word, Spider-Man lifts MJ right off the chair into his arms. She inhales hard, desperate for air as the song returns to, Let’s make it, baby! And let’s make it, baby! Well, let’s make it, baby! And let’s make it, baby, baby! He has one hand grasping the underside of her thigh, the other clutching the middle of her back. He thrusts toward her through the chorus, shy of nudging the way he did before. The motion sways MJ fairly gently, thanks to his sure grip and ability to carry her weight with ease, but she might as well be tumbling around inside a washing machine for all she currently knows of up and down.

The animal urgency of the chorus drops down to the slow lull of instrumentals and Spider-Man sets MJ on her feet. She just about rolls her ankle and plans to never admit this made her weak in the knees. As irregular drumbeats keep her on edge, he sneaks around behind her and takes her wrists, raising her arms over her head as she fights the instinct to turn and stare at this guy’s mostly-naked body. She hasn’t dated anyone since before the pandemic, but it’s more than that. While she holds her arms up there, Spider-Man rocks against her from behind, the inside of his thigh rubbing the outside of hers, messing up her skirt, confusing her heartbeat. His hands clamp down on her hips and work them in a circular motion with her ass pressed directly against him.

Wait.

―

Peter’s hard. Of all the things that have definitely gone wrong (having to make up a routine from scratch after blanking in the face of a woman 20 years younger and 500 times more beautiful than who he expected to find) and probably gone wrong (he hasn’t shaken the exhilarating feeling that he’s almost certainly at the wrong house), this is the most serious. He’s in so, so far over his head and sinking deeper, metaphorically, as the woman he’s wrapped around cautiously returns the pressure, pressing his erection.

He was so nervous after meeting her that he went straight to setting up his music and forgot to ask for her name. It’s not like he can casually ask now. It feels like things have gone too far for that. Wasn’t he supposed to feel some layer of detachment, doing this? Stripping’s supposed to be a part-time job, like taking pictures for the Bugle. Maybe he’s too used to caring about people to set himself apart from this. Maybe it’s the shock of her youth and the feeling of touching a real-live person after practicing with an empty chair over months of physical distancing.

Maybe he’s just horny.

The instrumental section goes on and on and Peter yearns. This is a job, he thinks, running his hands up to her waist and back to her hips. As the musical intermission’s finally drawing to a close, he improvises again, scooping the woman up into his arms in a bridal carry just to eliminate the sweet friction against his dick. Where does he go from here? He knows what the tutorials told him, what really gets the target of a lap dance/strip show going. Could go with the couch and push his red vest aside, but the soft rug underfoot beckons.

Now turn out the lights! Bon Jovi rasps as Peter moves gradually to his knees and nuzzles his masked face into the woman’s chest because, at this point, why the hell not? She smells so good. He hears her gasp, then her fingers dig fleetingly into the back of his neck like she wants to hold him there. But she lets go and he lays her on her back in the valley created by leisurely-migrating silver balloons. The light refracted on the woman’s face is crisp and ethereal.

Don’t tell me you love, love me, no… Just, just tell me you want me.

Peter springs on top of her, arms braced and locked, and performs an exaggerated horizontal roll, his hips close above hers. This is the million-dollar (or, like, twenty-dollar) move. The one that unambiguously mimics sex. Though it’s so overstated, so dramatic, the tutorials claimed that, by this stage, the person being performed for would be so wound up, so aroused, that they’d just about believe it was the real thing. He watches the woman’s shaky breathing and flushed cheeks, feels her hands caress his abs, and thinks he’s doing pretty damn good. Too bad he can’t count this as a performance. The desire he feels when he lowers himself closer to her is not an act.

Don’t tell me you love me.

The skin-tight front of his underwear skims her dress. And, though she should really keep her legs out straight to do her part in preserving the distance between them (because he’s fucking failing), she slides her foot along the floor, raising her knee. Peter snatches hold of that knee with the feeling that they just signed some kind of contract and grinds himself against the fold of skirt between her legs. The woman’s chest heaves as she pants. His balls ache for him to stop playing.

Oh, tell me you want me, want me, want me, want me, want me, want me, want me! Bon Jovi and Peter’s sex drive demand, from a rumble up to a scream. Let’s make it, baby!

The woman beneath him tosses her head and bats away a balloon that clings to her hair. Her birthday crown’s askew.

Well, let’s make it, baby!

Peter’s hand is on her ribcage, too near her breast.

Well, let’s make it, baby!

He huffs, loud inside his mask, as he thrusts against her like she’s not some accident, like she asked him to meet her here. For this.

And let’s make it, baby!

Distinct lyrics burst into a high, expressive shriek of noise that sounds enough like a woman being pleasured to send a tingle up Peter’s spine. He grinds down hard, gripping the woman’s hip. By the second shriek, her back’s bowing, her hands commandingly squeezing his arms. By the third, she’s moaning as she rocks against him, tearing an appreciative grunt from him in response. The fourth shriek finishes her right before the song. Peter’s breathing hard on top of her, on the jaw-clenching edge of climax himself, feeling her writhe as the music fades out. It just leaves the two of them here, damningly entangled.

After a long silence, his playlist moves on. Peter stares down at her another few seconds as she strokes her fingers across her mouth, then her eyes snap to where she can’t see his through the goggles.

“Oh shit,” he mutters.

The woman laughs awkwardly like those two words are an understatement for the degree to which this has not gone as planned. She didn’t even know the plan, but anyone would know this was not the intended conclusion―a stripper dressed up in a novelty Spider-Man costume should excite, entertain, inspire lust. But he should stop short of dry-humping his client to completion. Yeah, that has to be an unwritten rule someplace. Peter really shouldn’t have needed to read it to know better though. This has just gotten incredibly out of hand and he has no idea what to say or do.

“LIZ IS ON HER WAY!” a female voice yells from the back of the house, maybe the kitchen that the other woman vanished into earlier.

Peter jerks to his feet, still rigid in the front of his underwear. He thinks the woman he just, uh, danced for is requesting help up, but she’s actually pointing. He looks and sees the bathroom just off the stairs.

“I’m good,” she says. “Go before Cindy sees you.”

Snagging his pants from the floor and the vest portion of his sweatshirt from the couch, Peter bolts for the bathroom as the woman sits up from the rug. Inside, his hands quake with adrenaline as he zips his sweatshirt and refastens all the snaps on his pants. He does his best to adjust things so his waning erection’s not too obvious. For a minute, he yanks the mask from his head and stares at himself in the mirror as he breathes. This is not the side-hustle for him. This was his first and last gig as the Spider-Man Stripper.

Mask back on, he returns to the front room to find the woman he was grinding all over standing with her arms crossed protectively as her friend appears to grill her under her breath. They both look at him as he stuffs his feet back into his shoes and grabs his gloves and the blue sleeves of his sweatshirt. He’ll just carry them. If he stood here and began redoing them, he’d probably die from mortification before he got the last snap snapped. He collects his phone, stopping the music mid-song. He doesn’t know what’s playing. Could be his favourite song in the world and he wouldn’t be able to hear it right now over the volume of the look his ‘birthday girl’ is giving him.

“I’ll just, um, show you out,” she offers, shepherding him away from the woman he takes to be Cindy. She doesn’t volunteer anything about the other person, Liz, who they seem to be expecting.

“Great.”

He’s thankful that Cindy gives them a little space and doesn’t follow. They pause in the entranceway. The woman presses two fifties into his hand, avoiding eye contact. Peter clears his dry throat and nods, closing his fingers over the money because he’s more uncomfortable about the idea of prolonging this with a back-and-forth over him saying it’s too much while she insists than he is about the idea that she’s kinda paying him for sex, even if thinks she doesn’t mean to.

She pulls the door open and Peter jumps aside for two women, one very pregnant. There’s a flurry of voices all of a sudden and when he slips outside onto the step before someone can ask who he is and what he’s doing here, he doesn’t expect the birthday girl to come after him.

“MJ,” she blurts out.

He grins under the mask.

“Peter.”

He never gets to tell people that when he’s in disguise, but she doesn’t know he really is Spider-Man. The honesty feels good.

“So, that was…”

“This wasn’t supposed to be… Um,” he starts again, swinging his arms slightly. “That was my first time. Doing this. I’ve never done a routine for anybody before, so I want you to know I haven’t, like, done that with a bunch of people. I’ve never done this. And I think, uh, based on what happened in there, that I probably shouldn’t.” Peter’s laugh is strained. “I really don’t―”

“Do you want my number?”

He chokes.

“What?”

“I… thought I might as well ask,” she says, clearly self-conscious, looking prepared for rejection.

“No, of course I do,” Peter tells her quickly, holding out his phone. “Please.”

“Ok.” MJ gives him a quick smile, then looks at his screen as she adds herself as a contact. He’s grateful she’s the one putting the numbers in. He really can’t be trusted with that. Peter’s not nervous now, just excited as he thinks about using the money she gave him to buy her dinner.

Though he’s pretty sure he knows the answer, he says, “This isn’t the right house, is it?” as she hands his phone back. She laughs.

“No.”

“Yeah, I… kinda had a feeling.”

“Hey, whoever she was, her loss was my gain,” MJ says bluntly, then blushes hard. Peter chuckles to himself, looking down.

“Ummm…”

“Well, I should get in there. Baby shower.”

“Right, yeah, sure, you gotta.”

“But call me.”

“I will. I definitely will.”

“Maybe you can even show me what you look like without the mask,” she says.

Peter nods, body nothing but a cage for a butterfly swarm, then turns. Behind him, he hears Cindy’s voice as MJ steps back inside.

“Did you just give him a hundred bucks?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s what you owe me for going in on the stroller!”

“I’ll go to the bank and take out another hundred right after the party if you want,” MJ offers, sounding unconcerned.

“But a hundred bucks? MJ, he was here for ten minutes!”

“Trust me, Peter earned it.”

“Peter?! That’s Spider-Man’s name?”

“Cindy, come on, he’s not actually Spider-Man.”

The door shuts. Of course he’s not. Peter could no more be Spider-Man than he could fall half in love with a woman simply because of the way she smelled and the fact that she wouldn’t let him off the hook for a lap dance. He starts down the sidewalk with a skip, smiling wide beneath his mask.

#my writing #spideychelle #spideychelle fic #spideychelle fanfiction #peter parker #peter x mj #peter x michelle #peter parker x michelle jones #michelle jones

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devinsfm · 5 years ago

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joe keery. cis male. he/him. ／ jack devin just pulled up blasting video killed the radio star by the buggles — that song is so them ! you know, for a twenty - four year old radio show host, i’ve heard they’re really impulsive, but that they make up for it by being so captivating. if i had to choose three things to describe them, i’d probably say obscure vintage horror comics, blurry photographs of mysterious figures in the woods, and vivid descriptions of spine - chilling tales . here’s to hoping they don’t cause too much trouble ! ( sam, 23, est, she/her )

hey there, demons ! *ba tum tss* i’m sam and i never do this, but i really felt like it was time for a change, so i drew lots of inspiration from some of my favorite ocs and i love what i’ve come up with ! character info is under the cut and please feel free to message me if you would like to plot !

i. stats

𝔣𝔲𝔩𝔩 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢: jackson willard devin

𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰: jack, spooky guy, the night watchman

𝔥𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫: salem, massachusetts

𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥: ocotber 31st, 1995

𝔷𝔬𝔡𝔦𝔞𝔠: scorpio

𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫: demisexual

𝔬𝔠𝔠𝔲𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫: host of the graveyard shift, a radio program airing every weeknight from 12am to 5am

𝔭𝔬𝔰. 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔰: captivating, witty, resolute.

𝔫𝔢𝔤. 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔰: impulsive, gauche, naive.

ii. history

jackson willard “jack” devin was born on halloween day ( yes, really ) in salem massachusetts ( yes, really ). his mother stayed home with him as he was growing up while his father is a boston cop turned sheriff of the county and he’s an only child.

outside of the popular tourist spots, his hometown has a very close - knit, stuck in the 80s vibe. it’s the sort of place where everyone knows everyone for their entire lives because no one ever leaves and no one new ever moves in. phone and internet signals are nearly impossible to come by, so the local arcade and the video store still have quite a booming business in the year 2020. jack grew up in a not - so - typical small town suburban gothic environment, his dad’s income being just enough for them to get by every month.

he was an energetic kid who cycled through all sorts of interests, trying out everything from little league ( disaster ) to music lessons ( not as much of a disaster, but he wound up getting bored of it ). nothing seemed to really stick until he got his first horror comic : a vintage issue of tales from the crypt with tattered, yellowing pages. he was five years old and paid five cents for it at an elderly neighbor’s yard sale and from that moment on he was hooked. it started with the comics, but he quickly expanded his horizons to movies, books, and television in the genre of horror.

he got intro drawing and that was the only thing besides his newfound interest in horror that he could sit still for. at first he would just try to re - draw the panels in his comic books, but soon he was drawing anything and everything that caught his interest and he was getting good. he was being homeschooled by his mother at the time, but once friends and family and, well, everyone took notice of his skill, they were encouraging his parents to nurture his talent.

his parents fought about it. his dad didn’t see the value in his skill and wanted him to instead focus on academics, aspiring towards his son one day becoming a lawyer or a businessman or even following in his footsteps. jack never wanted that for himself. he was homeschooled by his mom up until then and she believed in him. it was with her blessing that he would go to a real school for the first time at the age of fourteen, starting off his freshman year at a high school that was a thirty minute train ride away in boston and catered exclusively to youth who demonstrated an exceptional talent in some area of the fine arts.

jack did well in school, but his grades probably would have been a lot better still if he didn’t start purposely acting out as his relationship with his dad got worse and worse. he started skipping classes, getting caught trespassing in cemeteries at 2am, and smoking a lot of weed.

when it came time for college, jack planned to attend art school. he swears he did. he looked a few schools on the west coast to get away from his dad for a few years yikes and planned to apply, but on the deadline date he got so high that he forgot to submit his portfolios. yes, really.

he loaded up his van ( a turquiose monstrosity he painted to look like the mystery machine ) and headed out to california anyway after telling his parents that he would be attending UCLA. of course, they quickly found it that it was a lie and his dad was furious. the two got into a huge fight over the phone and things were said. the result is that jack and his father haven’t spoken to each other ever since.

he did lots of odd jobs while he was on the road and basically lived in his van, which didn’t change right away when he decided to settle in LA, but he eventually got a job fetching coffee for the late night employees at a local radio station.

it was the typical, cliché story : the regular late night host called out of work at the last minute, there was no one else around and they were going to be on air in ten seconds. jack was thrown in front of the microphone and told to think fast !

he did, and the listeners loved him for it. whether it was his ramblings about horror movies or his thick boston accent or his reckless use of swear words on live radio, he turned out to be a massive hit. the successful night earned him a gig as an occasional substitute deejay, and with each broadcast he grew more and more popular, and about two years ago he was finally given his own program.

the graveyard shift is a radio program that airs every weeknight from 12am - 5am in the los angeles area and on apps such as iheartradio. jack hosts the show as his ( thinly veiled ) alter ego the night watchmen and discusses topics such as the paranormal, conspiracy theories, and all things horror. it’s one of the most popular programs of the time slot in the country.

it’s something that he never expected or picturing himself doing, but now he can’t imagine doing anything else. he’s become really passionate about revitalizing the field and bringing radio into the 21st century. he signed a HUGE contract with the studio when his show first started and now he’s a quite well known radio personality in the area and across the country.

iii. extras

huge stoner. high as fuck 90% of the time, and the other 10% of the time he’s probably still high, just not as fuck.

well known for his on air antics. he’ll light a joint in the middle of his radio show, he’ll prank call a friend and broadcast it to the entire city, he’ll curse in every single sentence and skate by on the after hours excuse when he’s reprimanded for it. he’s so outlandish and bizarre and like nothing that’s ever been heard on the radio before, and it just draws people in.

he often seems shy in person, but it’s more like he’s just a little socially awkward, something which also shines through in occasional non - malicious but blunt remarks and general lack of regard for what people think of him. he really just...doesn’t care.

genuinely seems to believe it’s either halloween day and / or the year 1986 at any given moment as that’s about as recent as his pop culture references get. he’s never heard of the k*rdashians, he doesn’t know what the mcu is, and the phrase yeet means absolutely nothing to him. mention any of it to him and he’ll just stare blankly bc he honestly doesn’t have a clue.

HOWEVER, he did start the area 51 meme from last summer. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

still draws. especially if he has to still for a stretch of time, then he’ll take out his latest sketchbook ( he goes through a lot of them ) and start doodling. he’s still quite good, mostly in his favored comic - esque style.

BIG CHAOTIC ENERGY and ZERO IMPULSE CONTROL

a chatterbox with friends but don’t be fooled...he’s been giving his own dad the silent treatment for almost seven ( 7 ) years now. it’s his preferred method of expressing anger towards someone because he isn’t really a fan of confrontation, but he’s maybe a liiiittle bit stubborn.

most of the time he’s a really easygoing person, a good friend and very loyal to the people he cares about. well - meaning, not the best at advice but he’s more likely to try and cheer a person up anyway.

he has a pet pied ball python named the crypt keeper ( tkc for short ) who he sometimes just carries with him because he likes to just chill wrapped around jack’s hand and arm.

iv. wanted connections

maternal or paternal cousins ( their grandparents probably live in boston or new england but otherwise anything goes for this )

close friends

friends

guests on his radio show

fans / haters of his radio show

people who don’t like him / find him annoying

exes ( 1 - 2, can be on good or bad terms )

“casually dating” but it might get real complicated soon - allie james

( these are just ideas and i’m trash at coming up with stuff, so please don’t feel limited by what’s listed here. )

#excess:intro #drugs tw #i decided that i needed something new but i just ''created'' this ''new character'' instead #countdown until i mess up his name has officially begun

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lifejustgotawkward · 7 years ago

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365 Day Movie Challenge (2017) - #348: Blade Runner 2049 (2017) - dir. Denis Villeneuve

As the end credits rolled on Blade Runner 2049 last Sunday night at the Regal Union Square multiplex, I turned to my friend and asked her my usual question, “So, what did you think?” She groaned out, “that was really boring,” and the wave of relief I felt at her response was the perfect summation of my feelings.

How did Blade Runner 2049 disappoint me? Let me count the ways.

I watched Ridley Scott’s original Blade Runner (1982) back in September. I was impressed, though not bowled over, by the theatrical cut, but I still wanted to give the final cut a chance. When I got around to watching that “definitive” version, I found that I actually missed Harrison Ford’s gruff, noiresque narration from the earlier edit of the film, but overall my appreciation for Blade Runner had grown and the second viewing allowed me to focus less on the plot and to better appreciate both the acting and the technical aspects of the production.

My expectations for Blade Runner 2049 were fairly high. I was eager to see how Denis Villeneuve built on Scott’s (and, of course, writer Philip K. Dick’s) visions of dystopian Los Angeles by pushing the narrative thirty years further into the future from the first Blade Runner’s setting in 2019. Although I missed the chance to see this new installment in IMAX - hey, those tickets are expensive when you don’t have spare cash to throw around! - I knew I still had to take the time to watch the film on the big screen. No TV could possibly do justice to an epic sci-fi tale of the Blade Runner variety, at least not for an introductory experience.

Bear with me, now, when I say that Blade Runner 2049 was a massive letdown. Yes, Roger Deakins’ stunning cinematography is practically guaranteed to earn him an Oscar nomination. And yes, the art direction, production design and set decoration further supports Denis Villeneuve‘s strengths regarding compelling visuals. I would also be totally fine with Renée April getting an Oscar nomination for costume design since the coat that Officer K (Ryan Gosling) wears throughout the film is incredible. Unfortunately, for the third year in a row (after Sicario and Arrival) my hopes for Villeneuve’s work have been dashed. For three years running he has fallen short of his ambitious ideas, whether attempting to concentrate on an idealistic DEA agent (Emily Blunt in Sicario), a linguist simultaneously mourning the death of her daughter and trying to make contact with aliens (Amy Adams in Arrival) or a Replicant Blade Runner (Ryan Gosling in Blade Runner 2049) who unravels a mystery about a female Replicant who was able to bear a child. All of these protagonists should be worthy of my undivided attention. Instead, Gosling - like one of Nexus’s new edition of Replicants - is just another in a continuing line of failed leads.

Part of the issue is Ryan Gosling’s own fault. In interviews I find him absolutely delightful, a funny and self-deprecating guy with a nicely offbeat sense of humor; in movies he is unremittingly bland. Whether we’re talking about The Notebook or Crazy, Stupid, Love or The Big Short, he never seems to have any discernible personality on film. It makes sense, then, that he would be chosen to play an android in Blade Runner 2049. But what does it say that he didn’t even play Officer K well? Replicants can be portrayed with emotion, if you recall Rutger Hauer, Sean Young, Daryl Hannah, Brion James and Joanna Cassidy in the original Blade Runner. Each actor breathed life into their characters in unique styles. So why couldn’t Villeneuve and screenwriters Hampton Fancher and Michael Green find a way to inject some flavor into their film’s characters?

The posters for Blade Runner 2049 imply that Harrison Ford and Jared Leto play important roles in the film, but in actuality, Leto’s “antagonist,” Niander Wallace, barely has any screen time and Ford’s returning antihero, Rick Deckard, doesn’t show up until the last third of the film. I enjoyed every moment he was onscreen, spitting his dialogue out with the same jaded sarcasm he had in the first film, but I wish the character had had more time to develop in the film. Wallace bears an undistinguished aura of evil, but what was supposed to be so special about him? Given the spotlight often put on his sightless eyes during “creepy” closeups, was his blindness really intended to be read as part of what defined him as bad (in which case, uh, what is that saying about disabilities)?

Next we have to take a look at the women of Blade Runner 2049. There are six notable female characters: Joi (Ana de Armas), a hologram who is a product created by Niander Wallace and who functions solely as K’s live-in girlfriend; Luv (Sylvia Hoeks), a Replicant who acts as Niander Wallace’s right-hand woman; Lieutenant Joshi (Robin Wright), K’s supervisor on the police force; Mariette (Mackenzie Davis), a "pleasure model” Replicant; Dr. Ana Stelline (Carla Juri), who works for the Wallace corporation in a capacity that I shouldn’t spoil for those who have not seen the film; and Freysa (Hiam Abbass), who plays a role that I similarly should not divulge. Of these six, Joi and Ana Stelline are the most sympathetic characters, but regardless of how these women’s actions are meant to be interpreted, the designs of these ladies are problematic.

Joi is an immediately likeable character, but since she is a product (and one who does not initially have a corporeal form), she does not have autonomy. With the push of a button, K can turn her off any time he wants, which I’m sure is an option a lot of dudes wish they had available for their girlfriends. Joi exists only to serve K, telling him how wonderful he is when he gets home from a long work day and providing whatever eye candy he desires (she can shapeshift to alter her clothing, hair and makeup). Should I ignore the fact that Joi has zero character development and applaud Blade Runner 2049 anyway for highlighting the ickiness of a future society where Joi-models are prevalent (thus eliminating the need for actual human women)? Maybe, but the film doesn’t bother to make a statement about this element of social interaction, other than the fact that it exists.

K is finally able to experience physical contact with Joi when she “syncs” with Mariette, a prostitute, to combine their bodies for a sexual encounter with K, resulting in my favorite shot in the film: an unsettling image of Joi and Mariette’s four blurry hands wrapping around the back of K’s head and caressing his hair. While this interlude incorporates an interesting degree of romantic intrigue - to what extent do K, Joi and Mariette understand what love is? - there is something a little too weird in the film’s dependence on the Madonna and Whore tropes, suggesting an either/or dichotomy where the only time a woman can possess both attributes is when she finds another person (technically a Replicant) who can temporarily provide the missing skills.

Luv is probably the best-developed female character, although since she is Niander Wallace’s servant, it is impossible to say where her allegiance to him ends and her own taste for violent retribution begins. Luv seems to genuinely savor hurting people, but I suppose that attitude was programmed into her by Wallace, which somewhat minimizes the cool factor in her badass fight scenes. It’s kind of odd, though, that she manages to outshine the film’s other resident tough gal, Lt. Joshi (I didn’t think anyone could outdo Robin Wright in this department, especially after Wonder Woman). Villeneuve and his writers couldn’t settle on how best to represent Joshi, so the character fluctuates between a generically butch stereotype and a leering boss who drinks too much and flirts with K. Again, not that women have to be only one thing, but I like consistency in characters rather than mixed messages. I wonder how much of Blade Runner 2049′s muddled and archaic depictions of women are thanks to Hampton Fancher, who also co-wrote the original Blade Runner’s screenplay, which was full of troublesome approaches to womanhood, sexuality and sexual consent.

In the end, the difference between Blade Runner and Blade Runner 2049 is like the distinction between a human being and a Replicant. 2049 tries to live up to the originality of that which inspired it, but it lacks the soul of its predecessor. It really says something that the most heartfelt moments in Blade Runner 2049 are two references to Ridley Scott’s film: a pivotal scene in Wallace’s lair that conjures up the memory of Rachael (Sean Young) from the film, and a moment in the penultimate scene that reuses a key piece of music from Vangelis’s original Blade Runner score. I recognize that many viewers see Blade Runner 2049 as a masterpiece, and I have tried many times in the past week to understand why, but I’m hard-pressed to comprehend why I should have spent close to three hours sitting through such an unsatisfying project, other than being able to say I bravely weathered this particular storm.

P.S. (because I couldn’t figure out where else to write this): I don’t know how many viewers will know where I’m coming from, but for the cult classic freaks out there, let me propose this theory: Blade Runner 2049 is trying to be like Paul Morrissey’s notoriously wild horror-satire Flesh for Frankenstein (1973). Check it out: a really bizarre and wealthy man (Udo Kier/Jared Leto) and his devoted assistant (Arno Juerging/Sylvia Hoeks) endeavor to construct a set of superhumans (FfF) or humanoid robots (B42049), entities that will give birth to a new generation of superbeings that will take the place of their inferior progenitors and obediently do their master’s (Kier/Leto) bidding. In fact, there are two specific scenes that reminded me of Flesh for Frankenstein while watching Blade Runner 2049: when Niander Wallace kills the naked, infertile Replicant woman (ugh, what a terrible scene), it mirrors a moment in Flesh when Arno Juerging, the loyal assistant, tries to commence sex with Baron Frankenstein’s female zombie-monster by punching her in the stomach and fatally damaging her internal organs, resulting in a grotesque display of violence similar to what we see in Blade Runner 2049.

Secondly, when Luv battles K at the sea wall and she kisses him, she is mimicking an action that Niander Wallace carried out when he killed the Replicant woman; this is also reminiscent of Flesh for Frankenstein since the Arno Juerging character often does horrible, perverse things - like conflating his lust for the female zombie with a disturbingly compulsion for violence - because he is following his master’s patterns. Take all that analysis for what it’s worth, Blade Runner fans!

P.P.S. I am also convinced that Blade Runner 2049′s Las Vegas wasteland scene was either an homage to or a ripoff of Nastassja Kinski’s desert dream sequence from another of 1982′s finest cult offerings, Cat People. Even in the slightly faded YouTube upload of the clip, the orangeness cannot be overlooked.

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nanyoky · 7 years ago

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ALL of the numbers for Wanda and for Pietro

OMG THIS IS SO LONG I TOOK FOREVER. I did a mix of canon and au, especially where canon limits the answers.

1. What does their bedroom look like? Shared one until the bombings, very sparse - parents didn’t have much money. Then homeless until post - ultron.

Wanda: We see wanda’s avengers compound room In cw but I… don’t…. like… many things about that movie so - let’s say more cramped and closed off. Even if given a larger, open space I feel Wanda would fill it in an eclectic way. She nests like no other. When you’re not used to a set space being your own, it’s exciting and novel to surround yourself with things and images of your choosing. She goes to thrift stores and garage sales and collects just dumb things that she likes just because she CAN.

Pietro: Canon: hasn’t ever had his own. Nice happy everybody lives au: pretty plain, but nice. More stylish than people might expect. Some spillover of wanda’s possessions. Entire half of the walk in closet is devoted to sneakers. 2. Do they have any daily rituals?

Wanda: Definitely a tea drinker, at LEAST in the morning and before bed.

Pietro: Not quite compulsive, but he actually falls into routine very fast. In the city, he had a circuit he would travel with things to do along the way- taking food, talking to people from the tent city, taking necessities, scoping out new places to sleep so they did not use one single place too often, checking in on the occupying soldiers’ movements, harassing police officers on duty, etc. 3. Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?

Wanda: Not before the Avengers. Now she does, but grudgingly. It helps when the others point out the more varied her skills are, the more people she can help.

Pietro: He always ran, even before they got their powers. Somewhere in their teens, he started doing simple exercises like pushups and situps when they were bored because he thought people wouldn’t hassle them as much if he looked tougher. With the Avengers, he gets bored with all the training- routine that he doesn’t define himself. But he appreciates being able to to something he’s good at. 4. What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?

Wanda: She checks with her mind before going into any shared living space. If she doesn’t mind company, she’ll still come in and cook alongside whoever is there or share their food. If she’s not feeling up to it, she will wait.

Pietro: Uses his speed to work around anyone in there, which is annoying exactly 100% of the time 5. Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)

Wanda: Organized chaos, for sure. Long bath goblin. We’re talking multiple hours here. Candles and music and a book and maybe even snacks in there.

Pietro: Neat and contained out of necessity for a long time. But the more comfortable he is, the more likely he is to be cluttered and messy. The team starts getting annoyed when he begins to leave his shoes and hoodies everywhere, but those of them good at reading human behavior (natasha, sam, clint) notice the pattern and guess why. 6. Eating habits and sample daily menu

Wanda: Long time not knowing where their next meal was coming from means she eats when and whatever she can. Living in the compound is an adjustment, but she starts getting more discerning and learns what she actually likes an doesn’t like. Sam introduced her to lemon bars and she ate a whole pan and then threw up one time she knew it was coming but they were just SO GOOD.

Pietro: Everything. So much. People know his powers include increased metabolism, but they don’t really GET IT. Steve will go to order pizza like “so you think 20 is good for all of us I know you eat a lot” and he’s just like “20 for me” “haha- right” “No. you don’t understand. You will all starve.” But he also has the terrible habit of eating too fast (surprise surprise) and makes himself sick. 7. Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time

Wanda: Definitely a “no time you enjoyed spending is wasted” type person. She loves to read and do her nails and listen to music.

Pietro: wasting time makes him anxious- unless it’s quiet time with Wanda. But even that is up for criticism if it lasts too long. He won’t complain to her, but he gets restless and fidgety until she tells him to go do something to get him to calm down.

8. Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging

They used to smoke sometimes in Sokovia- mostly when it was cold and they had to sleep outside. They don’t anymore, but sometimes get a craving they have to try to replace with something else.

Wanda: Collecting things like jewelry and decorations for her room. And sweets. Fancy looseleaf tea.

Pietro: Doesn’t really think of things as indulgences. He does what he wants or needs and then moves on. 9. Makeup?

Wanda: Loves it. Feels stupid and underprepared for her day without it.

Pietro: Doesn’t like it on himself, but helps Wanda with hers. 10. Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?

Woah boy. Can you say holy codependency batman? I don’t think either of the twins could ever get over this. Canon universe, I think grieving Pietro is going to be a lifelong process for Wanda. There’s just no way she can ever “move on” from the loss of him. Au- I think they could both work on some of their other issues and relax enough to form relationships outside of one another, but the codependency would never go away. They would still bounce back to “no one matters but us” the moment they are threatened. Neither of them will likely ever see this as a problem. They recognize that others do though, which only feeds into their “no one understands” complex.

They both have phobias and ptsd from their chidlhood traumas. Mostly these show as little things, but on a bad day, can be an issue. Claustrophobia and being tethered or incapacitated during crisis are always issues. Typical stuff like night terrors crop up regularly.

11. Intellectual pursuits?

Their formal education ended at 10- as they skipped out on the foster system out of fear they would be separated. They would often spend time in the city’s library, as it was one of the few places that wouldn’t kick them out for not buying anything.

Wanda insisted they learn English. She thought it would come in useful on their mission to kill Stark. She also likes reading, though mostly fiction.

Pietro struggled with learning English because he’s easily frustrated and hates feeling stupid. He reads well when he finds something that interests him, but very rarely has the patience to sit and read for long periods of time. 12. Favorite book genre?

Wanda: Gothic romance and horror. Bronte, Shelley, Morrison, Jackson, some O’Connor.

Pietro: Would rather ask Wanda to read aloud whatever she’s reading than pick his own. He likes them though- particularly things with dry shows of humor and scathing judgements of social norms. He keeps his love of Vonnegut quiet, as Wanda can’t stand him. 13. Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?

((we already talked about this a bit))

Wanda: I waffle on this depending on the story I’m telling. My two favorite Wanda sexualities are Bi!Wanda and Ace!Wanda. Like hard ace. Zero interest. Not repulsed, just uncomfortable with the idea of sex in relation to herself and her own body. Not particularly educated about different sexualites. Probably didn’t know there was a word for being asexual until much later in life.

Pietro: I love my dead bi son. Ditto above on education. But definitely observant enough to know differing preferences aren’t all that unusual.

Both of them don’t talk about sexuality much- not in a private or “i don’t like labels” kind of way, just in a “if i want to have sex with you, you will know. and if I don’t, then it’s not likely to come up” kind of way. 14. Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.)

They both have faded, but still note-worthy scars from the bombing rubble. Wanda low key never has bare legs and Pietro never goes sleeveless.

15. Biggest and smallest short term goal?

Wanda: Depending on what part of canon or au we’re talking about, could be variations on “get through the week” and “make pietro smile”

Pietro: Always “get through the week” and “Make wanda smile.”

16. Biggest and smallest long term goal?

Before AoU, both of them had the goal of living long enough to kill Tony. Smallest would have been “find out what to do after.”

17. Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress

I wrote a big long rant about the twins’ costuming/character design once this is MY JAM.

Wanda: Woah boy does she love her clothes. She loves collecting new pieces that she can layer. Jewelry is a must. She feels naked and vulnerable without it. Loves the aesthetic of fashion but doesn’t think much about how her body looks in it. Feels weirdly self conscious in light colors.

Pietro: comfort is #1, but it is not his lone concern. Almost opposite of Wanda- pretty bland aesthetic tastes, but likes how he looks in some things over others. Low key very aware that warm colors wash him out. Used to wear charms from their mother around his wrists or neck but they’ve all since been lost or broken or stolen. Wanda pierced one of his ears when he helped her do hers, but he rarely wears anything in it. (There was a shot in aou where pietro turns his head and you can see Aaron Taylor Johnson has a pierced ear and it just struck me as a very accurate twin scene like *smol Wanda holds up a needle and a handful of snow* “come pietro - were pierce our ears now” “nice.”)

18. Favorite beverage?

Wanda: Teateatea always tea.

Pietro: Constantly hydrating. Metabolism thing.

19. What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

Wanda: Long term plans. Starts with what she has to do the next day, the next week, the next month, etc. Doesn’t always help her sleep though.

Pietro: Short term plans. All the things he wants to get done the next day/should be getting done instead of sleeping. Almost never helps him sleep.

20. Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?

Occasional illnesses as children. After the bombings they both got sick on the street a lot. Pietro would always try to steal a wallet and get a hotel room whenever they were ill. Or at least befriend someone enough to stay with them.

21. Turn-ons? Turn-offs?

Wanda: Ons: Tall men, women with curly hair, good tattoos, slow hands on her thighs, neck kisses, leaving marks with her teeth and nails, wall/counter sex, drunk/buzzed sex, the low-key voyeurism of whispering dirty things in public, slow, passionate makeouts that slowly and steadily build into faster and rougher sex. Offs: fetishizing innocence/inexperience (certain guys think her stockings are a sign of being into a schoolgirl vibe but any type of age roleplay is a hard stop for her), her partner setting the pace without give and take, being called “cute” or “sweet,” having her hair pulled, anyone who dislikes pietro.

Pietro: Ons: men’s forearms, curvy women, and…. a… few fetishes… biting, hair pulling/playing, drunk/buzzed sex, basic restraints, oral fixation but most of all PRAISE KINK and he doesn’t want to talk about it not at all don’t bring it up please for the love of god don’t make it A Thing. Sam wants to talk about it Sam Wilson wants to talk about it a lot. Offs: people who think sexual intimacy means affection is now acceptable, being laughed at, people who think they’ve “figured him out,” anyone who dislikes wanda.

22. Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

Wanda: vague doodles. Patterns and motifs. Sometimes lists and plans, but most of that is mental.

Pietro: little mini comics that will make wanda laugh. (during team meetings he draws little stick!steve and stick!tony arguing and the scene gets more and more elaborate until stick!stony makeouts happen and wanda just fucking loses it in the middle of tony discussing new tech.)

23. How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?

Wanda: Organized to herself. Clutter that only she understands. No one can find anything in her room if they need to, but she knows exactly where everything is.

Pietro: Very simple and organized, but he is That Guy who has The Chair or The Drawer where things kind of build up until he doesn’t remember what’s all on/in there.

24. Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?

Wanda: loves literature and language.

Pietro: is a better storyteller than a writer. Wanda says there’s no difference but he disagrees.

After his death she tries writing down some of his stories but he was right.

25.How do they see themselves 5 years from today?

pre ultron: dead. Both of them.

Post: Wanda just keeps trying to find more things she can do to help others and make amends. Pietro would join her if he were alive.

26. Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?

Kinda the same as above. No real back up - they will either succeed or die.

27. What is their biggest regret?

pre ultron: not being able to help their parents and not realizing what the true nature of the SHIELD facility was until it was too late.

Wanda in post aou: every single thing about that day.

28. Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?

Friend - each other.

Enemy: Tony until post ultron, then they wouldn’t really know. Part of the experience of it all is learning things aren’t as simple as friends and enemies.

29. Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?)

Of course, as children, their instinct was to stick together and hide. As adults, pietro handles any immediate danger, and looks to Wanda for the plan once there is a moment.

30. Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)

They didn’t have time to grieve their parents. Wanda screamed for days after sokovia, then was basically catatonic for weeks. In a nice au… I don’t know. If they started getting close to others, then lost someone, I think pietro would get anxious and want to do something, while Wanda would close off and try to keep him close to her.

31. Most prized possession?

Wanda has the jewelry and clothes that Pietro stole from her. She likes mixing up her wardrobe, but those ones are special.

Pietro doesn’t keep much long enough for it to be “prized.” He keeps track of things very well, but once its outlived its use its gone. He still feels guilty about the charms though, and if any had survived, he would take special care of them.

32. Thoughts on material possessions in general?

They both feel they should not get too attached because they have lived so long only keeping what they can carry, but that has also meant they are very protective of the things they have.

33. Concept of home and family?

Each other. Always. They did feel a sense of home and loyalty to their city, which is part of the reason they never tried to leave.

34. Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)

Wanda: Wanda is very private. Part of the reason is that she realizes how much of oneself is constructed deliberately due to her powers and natural knack for perception. So she likes giving people as little to work with as possible. It gives her a sense of control. However, she is more likely to feel close enough to someone to tell them things that she wouldn’t tell strangers. Whereas....

Pietro: Private about some things, VERY blunt about others. Sort of the opposite of how most people might be. He’s the one to tell the story of their parents’ deaths, every time. And ah- certain subjects don’t make him uncomfortable. Ex: one time, bruce and helen set the whole team of enhanced avengers down to talk about different aspects of their abilities for their records and when it was Pietro’s turn- “I eat a lot, I’m fast, I don’t need to piss as much as you’d think from how much i hydrate? so that’s nice. I heal fast, don’t seem to bruise from blunt impact, oh- and my refractory period is like- 30 seconds.” and everyone just “.....kay”

And of course, they have no secrets from each other. Zero sense of privacy between the two of them- like how they share a personal bubble.

35. What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?

Wanda: Like I said, doesn’t see things she likes as a waste of time- that is, unless there is currently something she can actively do to meet a goal. But she values planning time and that can be done while doing the things she enjoys.

Pietro: Flirting. He is a hopeless flirt (see deleted scenes from aou) and enjoys it, but honeslty he thinks it’s kind of silly. Either someone is into you or they’re not. Flirting is like the “how are you? say hi to your mom” of sex.

36. What makes them feel guilty?

Before Ultron: Nothing but their parents.

After: everything.

37. Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making?

Wanda: both. Her emotions fuel her, but she��s too practical to go with the first plan that pops into her head. she feels she owes it to the validity of her anger and guilt to take the best course of action.

Pietro: definitely emotional. He analyzes just enough not to make things immediately worse, then acts.

38. Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality?

Wouldn’t know what that is.

Post AoU, Wanda reads more about psychology to help understand how her powers work. Once she comes across this, she’s educated enough to know how simplistic and meaningless it is.

39. What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?

Time together.

Post AoU Wanda: Time alone. Doing something that makes her feel like herself like drinking tea or painting her nails.

40. Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?

Wanda: Bit of both, but leaning more towards superiority. But it’s less superiority, more utter confidence and faith in herself- even when misplaced.

Pietro: Bit of both, leaning towards inferiority. Scared he’s not enough to protect wanda or get them what they want.

41. How misanthropic are they?

Can be a weird mix. They hate what people are capable of doing to one another, which comes from the empathy of seeing themselves and others hurt.

42. Hobbies?

Wanda: the reading, fashion pursuits, etc. With the team, she’s gotten to try more things like cooking and music.

Pietro: He feels good when he’s running. Not even to speed. Just running is something he’s good at and he likes doing things he’s good at.

43. How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education?

(am i going crazy i feel like i answered some of these like four times)

Their formal education ended at age 10. Skipped out on the foster system and the attached public ed.

44. Religion?

Their father was jewish, but somewhere about halfway between “observant” and “christmas tree jewish.” After the bombings, they have almost no residual faith and a pretty antagonistic attitude toward organized religion.

45. Superstitions or views on the occult?

Their mother was Romni and used to give them charms and things to carry for luck and protection. She herself took the customs only vaguely seriously and just followed most out of cultural tradition more than anything. Wanda thought it was all very serious and magical when they were young, but after the bombings refuses to talk about it. As previously stated, Pietro used to carry the charms very carefully, but they didn’t have any on them when they were pulled out of the rubble and he tries to act like it doesn’t bother him that they don’t continue on with the traditions, but it does. He hasn’t told Wanda (she knows anyway), but he found a holed stone a year after their parents’ deaths, but lost it immediately. He still thinks it was a sign he’s meant for bad luck.

46. Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?

Wanda: speaks for the two of them, most often. Except when it comes to sharing stories. That’s where Pietro steps in.

Pietro: Makes Wanda’s will into action. Usually leaves the talking to her.

47. If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?

Wanda: Someone who doesn’t necessarily understand her, but does not seek to unravel or change her. She might have a tendency to desire partners who are possibly too passive when it comes to her. This prevents her from healthy relationships a lot. She has no patience for criticism, no matter if it is about somethign superficial, or about something genuinely concerning, like her self-destructive tendencies.

Pietro: Tends to confuse what he wants, which ends messily every time. He doesn’t consciously want a serious commitment, but unconsciously sort of... expects it? This goes one of two ways- his partner takes the relationship seriously and he doesn’t, which means he is callous and flippant with them OR his partner doesn’t take things seriously and he’s frustrated and hurt that he is such a minor event in someone else’s life.

The twins are... not good at dating.

HOWEVER, given the opportunity post aou, I think they would both try to improve their empathy and interpersonal skills a little better. Wanda would do well with someone who actively encourages her to express herself and step outside of her own head, but doesn’t get pushy. Pietro would do well with someone conscientious, but who would also coax him not to take himself so seriously.

48. How do they express love?

With one another: Protectiveness. The way Pietro always has his back, but Wanda is always standing between him and known danger. Physical affection/their shared personal bubble.

With befriending the rest of the team, they would struggle for a time. But eventually Wanda starts making two cups of tea when someone else is in the kitchen with her and Pietro starts smiling, just a little, at their jokes instead of rolling his eyes.

49. If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?

Wanda: It’s not exactly speed that’s her strong point, she’s just ABRUPT. even before the experiments, she was very good at reading people and situations. She can tell when a fight is inevitable, and once diffusion is no longer an option, she will strike first and not fast, not stopping to let anyone get their footing. Dirty fighting. Knees and nails and big jagged rings.

Pietro: Big surprise- fast. But also very- full bodied. I love the way that with his speed, Pietro’s attacks in aou are mostly just “run into robot so fast it just falls apart.” I feel like that’s not just the powers, but also how he does things. Just kind of throws himself at/on people and hits with anything he’s got. Fast and dirty. No kidney or testicle is safe.

50. Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not?

Wanda: Pre aou: not if it’s together. Post: no. Would be somewhat of a relief. Finally going home after a long day. Wherever she’s going, it’s the same place as Pietro.

Pietro: Yes yes oh god yes.

#maximoff twins #codependent supertwins #long post #such a fucking long post #i'd say i'm sorry but if this surprises you in any way you probably should have unfollowed a long time ago #character meme #do it for the meme #asks #@essayofthoughts

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deborahdeshoftim5779 · 8 years ago

Text

Questions for HSM III (Part XI)

Beautiful picture here. It would fool you into thinking that all’s well in the end, but I am here to rid you of such delusions.

On The Most Absurd of Absurdities- Mad Dash to California Part II

1- I just want to backtrack a little to that awful dancing routine; remember what I said about other students on campus? If you look carefully during the so-called waltzing, you will see two people sitting at a picnic table in the background. I suppose Stanford students must have a no-questions policy towards strange men dancing on public property.

2- The kissing scene is yet another allegory for Troy and Gabriella’s relationship. It’s quite honestly cringeworthy, but if you can stomach the mush, then you will see Troy leaning in for another kiss whilst Gabriella is pulling away. Am I justified in interpreting this as her way of keeping him on the hook; not giving him too much, but just enough to keep him satisfied? This reticence and awkwardness has been mirrored right from the very beginning. Clearly, they have no unspoken chemistry between each other. Back in the treehouse, I could have sworn that Troy wanted to kiss her after their silly duet, but Gabriella didn’t even notice. After the abominable picnic scene, Troy had to prompt her to kiss him, which to me shouldn’t be the case in an established relationship. What are we to infer from this?

3- “You know... I’m not the only one that changed when you came to East High.”

Now we arrive at the unjustified hero-worship scene, at which point I was already losing the will to live during the first watch, after having snorted throughout their tree-waltz routine. This is where Troy will use a combination of charm and his pre-prepared speech to convince his girlfriend to meet her commitments. The fact that he has to do this demonstrates the disregard with which Gabriella holds him, East High and all her friends, yet this scene comes not long after she claimed that “it’s taken me two weeks to get used to being away from you. From East High and all my friends.”

And please, who else has allegedly “changed” because of Gabriella? Let’s run through a comprehensive list, shall we? Mr. Bolton, initially so dismissive of Troy’s singing ambitions, came round to supporting his son after seeing him perform. That decision had very little to do with Gabriella, of whom he had previously been contemptuous. Mrs. Bolton doesn’t get enough airtime, but we can assume that she had her son’s back first and foremost. Despite Chad’s horrendous pro-Gabriella bias, he was remorseful when he saw the devastating effect of his meddling in HSM I on Troy, and went to HIM to pledge his support. He changed because he actually accepted that TROY could have other interests besides basketball. Ditto for Jason and Zeke. Sharpay, botched though her character arc has been, said “you’re a good guy, Troy” after he gave her a chance to save her beloved Talent Show. Ryan did not change because of Gabriella; rather, she USED him for her own ends. Instead, Troy (literally) reached out and made friends with him, commended his hard work and his talent and expressed an interest in Ryan’s sporting skill. Meanwhile, Gabriella was being dragged back to Lava Springs after her dramatic exit.

Kelsi’s beautiful character development came as a DIRECT result of her interaction with Troy: he lifted her up, gave her credit, built up her self-esteem, made her understand her value and feel valued. Remember how impressed Gabriella was by this scene, so much so that she mentioned it later: “I saw how you treated Kelsi at the audition: do your friends know THAT guy?”. All of Troy and Kelsi’s few scenes (I weep!) are characterized by genuine affection, companionship, trust, loyalty, great chemistry and respect. Even by the end of the first movie, Troy was incredibly proud of her for standing up to Sharpay. All credit due to TROY. Gabriella had no hand in any of this whatsoever.

Ms Darbus went from being derisive of Troy’s sport and his accompanying status to trusting and respecting his skills, his courage and believing in his potential as she watched him shine on her beloved stage. Again, none of this is due to Gabriella, with whom Ms Darbus has not such much more than “welcome to East High, Miss Montez!”

In short, these are fatuous claims; the only person who has been “changed” by Gabriella directly is Troy. Yes, he has changed-- for the worse. Throughout the course of this movie series, we have seen a well-meaning kid degenerate into a walking zombie so dismissive of his own life, health and emotional needs that he’s willing to drive 1053 miles to and from California after being dumped over the phone by his girlfriend, because somehow, he STILL believes that he has a relationship worth fighting for. Sure, in the first movie, they had a budding relationship, but by this point, it is nothing more than an arrangement. Gabriella is enjoying her new life in Stanford, and certainly wasn’t shedding any more than a few compulsory tears over their separation. Troy, on the other hand, has been on metaphorical life support. She pays him scant attention, as pictures repeatedly demonstrate, but will fly into a rage if he even so much as turns his head elsewhere.

Change, indeed?

3- “Kids I used to just pass in the hallway; we’re friends now.”

Yes, and this is all due to Troy. Because HE broke the status quo, and HE had never actually cared about social hierarchies anyway, which is why he made friends with the likes of Kelsi and Ryan, and why he has friends in the Science, Gardening and Drama Clubs.

Why does Gabriella laugh/giggle after this comment? Is there anything particularly amusing in the fact that Troy has come all this way to highlight the importance of how East High has changed (allegedly by her will) and how he has made meaningful friendships along the way? With an atittude like this, I’m astonished that she has any friends. Once again, this is glaring evidence that she isn’t concerned with anything that interests him personally, unless she has a hand in it. (Or unless it can be attributed to her). What achievements can she list by comparison? I’ll be waiting.

4- “And we’re supposed to be doing a show together.”

The picture I posted for Questions for HSM III (Part X) is the exact screenshot of Gabriella’s reaction after Troy reminds her about the musical. One minute she’s laughing condescendingly at the prospect of him making lasting friendships, the next minute, she turns her head away from him when he reminds her of the musical that she ditched-- AFTER having told the class earlier that they should ALL take part. I highlight these facts again and again folks, so that you are aware of the staggering hypocrisy here. Gabriella looks like a kid who has just been told to eat their vegetables. The reaction here is absurdly arrogant and disrespectful. Is this why she didn’t take Troy’s previous comment seriously-- because she doesn’t actually have any consideration or respect for the kids Troy used to pass in the hallway? The kids who have worked so hard to put together a kick-ass musical so they can win a scholarship to Juilliard?

But more importantly, says who that him and Gabriella are supposed to be doing a show together? Why does Troy feel that he needs Gabriella-- Oh wait, we know. Back on Planet Earth however, the viewer can reasonably assume that Troy is leaning towards pursuing the Performance Arts in some capacity after graduation. He will be most surprised to learn that he will be expected to do shows... without Gabriella! The horror! And though he has no chemistry whatsoever with Sharpay, his dogged insistence upon only performing with Gabriella when she has just demonstrated a complete lack of interest is throughly discouraging and ridiculous. The script takes it for granted that Gabriella MUST be there to do this show, when I have already pointed out that she possesses no extraordinary talent, showmanship or even plain punctuality in order to be considered essential. A show without Kelsi’s compositions, Ryan’s choreography or Troy’s great voice would be a disaster. All three of them are present, and along with Sharpay, who is a seasoned performer, they could have carried the show together. Gabriella, who prioritizes her core academic pursuits over everything else, is not indispensible. Why does the script assume that we won’t remember how performing is actually a PART of Troy’s identity, whereas it is only an interest/hobby to Gabriella? (Were it more, then she would have at least aimed to minor in Performance Art, alongside her Law degree). Surely Troy is instrumental to the show?

5- “Problem is, East High changed when you got there. Now it’s changed again because you left.”

The kid is sleep-deprived. There’s no way he can actually say all of this with a straight face. He’s saying EAST HIGH-- as in the entire school! Where is his evidence for this? Clearly, thanks to his sleep-deprivation, he has forgotten the moment when his father, in HSM I, told him that what HE did affected not just the team, “but the ENTIRE SCHOOL”. Troy is Playmaker. Troy helped raise the school’s standing when he won back-to-back championships, as more people follow sports than Scholastic Decathlons. Doesn’t he remember the time in HSM II when, just as he was about to “enjoy” another awkward kiss with Gabriella, a little kid came up and asked for his signature? Have we ever seen Gabriella make such waves across the school? The only “change” here was with the Wildcats (members of his own class) who had automatically decided that they were goners without Gabriella, AND who, whilst so eager to cheer for Troy and Gabriella’s performances, showed zero interest in Troy’s hurt after her absence.

6- “You might be ready to say goodbye to East High... but East High’s not ready to say goodbye to you.”

Says who? Did he have time to complete a survey before his mad dash to California? By whose authority does he make such a claim?

The scene ends with Troy stroking her hair-- just another sign of affection, as usual. Gabriella just smiles at the knowledge of her imaginary achievements. Of course, what we don’t see is the bags under Troy’s eyes, the constant yawning, the hunger, thirst and inevitable fatigue that he WOULD have felt if this screenwriters had a working knowledge of human biology.

Folks, this is dismal, dismal stuff.

On The Musical and Troy’s Continued Piss-Poor Decision Making

1- The dialogue for Jimmie in his attempts to seduce Sharpay is once again an abomination to the art of writing. As for the “Babe Magnet” perfume-- no boy carries a whole bottle of perfume in his pocket.

2- And now we come to the next most infuriating decision that Troy makes in this movie: missing the musical’s first act. All those hours of rehearsal down the drain. As if this isn’t outrageous enough, he texts JIMMIE to inform him of his lateness, but not KELSI, who wrote the damn show, not Ms Darbus, who is directing the damn show, and not Sharpay, who keeps expecting him to show up for final rehearsal. As much as I adore Troy Bolton, this is just unacceptable. Of course, this is a direct consequence of his foolish decision re the 1053 miles, which I will now change to 2106 miles, the total distance driven to and from Stanford, California. I bear this in mind. But at the VERY LEAST, he had an obligation to inform Kelsi, who would have made the necessary amendments BEFORE the show started, rather than staring around in panic on the opening night. Why he didn’t think to do this (sleep-deprivation?) earns him an angry face sticker from me. Furthermore, if he was going to wax lyrical to Gabriella about how her existence has breathed life into the universe, why didn’t he follow through by letting the COMPOSER know about Gabriella’s new-found intention to return and perform? Seriously, man?

3- “Been driving all night. Will try to make it for the second act. Break a leg.”

Quite why Jimmie can’t read his own texts is beyond me.

Folks, TROY has been driving all night. Gabriella, who is his passenger, apparently has not. And what is the excuse for this? Does this not epitomise their relationship once again? Would it have killed Gabriella to say, “Pass the wheel; you must be exhausted?” I know this is an assumption, but I consider it a reasonable one, given the lack of effort Gabriella puts into her relationship, given her reluctance to return and perform in said musical, and given her bumming free rides off Troy throughout Senior Year but laughing when his truck came to a shuddering standstill outside her house, and ignoring him when it broke down completely much later. If she couldn’t be asked to help him get home safely-- the very least she could do after he brought her a picnic at his own expense-- then why should we believe that she helped him drive back? And given her propensity to become short-tempered with Troy over any little thing, can we assume that this was an incredibly tense ride home? I mean, their conversations are tear-inducingly dull, she’s a selfish brat and you have to really like someone to put up with a 1053 mile ride through the fricking wilderness. Can we assume that Gabriella was frequently irritated with Troy, the faults with his truck and the length of time spent driving? Because I REFUSE to believe that them running onstage holding hands and laughing (presumably at their own foolish stunt) is a true reflection of the trip going home. There’s NO evidence to support this, other than the poor writing and wishful thinking of Barsocchini and co. Again, I know I assume, but I wasnt the one who decided that reducing this poor boy into a shell of his former self would be a good reflection of Gabriella’s presence in his life.

More analysis upcoming.

#HSM3 #MadDashtoCalifornia #TroyBolton #GabriellaMontez #RetireThisTruckAlready #TheresAReasonYouPhoneInIfYoureGoingToBeLate #KelsiNielsen #HighSchoolMusical #EastHigh #Wildcats #InDefenceofTroyBolton #LiterallySaveTroyBoltonFromGabriellaMontez

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