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skellebonez · 4 years ago

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I AM SORRY FOR THIS SKELLE BUT I MUST: 5 (kidnapping them was the only way I was going to get them here),6 (let's make a deal, shall we?) and 41 (can you teach me how to do that) with the demon bull fam and mk with a little hint of 64 (I may have eaten seven of them already). NOW GO HAM MY DUDE

Oh I had way too much fun with this one. I took S2E4 (spoilers mentioned for that!) and some tweets made by one of the show producers on the same day as fuel for a very silly idea I had. I don't write what can be considered "Crack treated seriously" (or at least semi-seriously, this is not a 100% serious fic) often but when I do I go hard. This is more focused on MK and others than SpicyNoodles so it's a bit more gen fic than a full on ship fic as well.

Kidnapping them was the only way I was going to get them here/Let's make a deal, shall we?/Can you teach me how to do that?/I may have eaten seven of them already.

"Red..." MK started off slowly, watching as his boyfriend's face flushed and twisted in embarrassment. "Can you tell me why your mother showed up at my apartment and used her wind vortex thing to teleport us here without an explanation? And then left us in your..." He looked around, noting that aside from the excessively large throne and two smaller thrones beside it this room looked like a... "Living room? On a couch?"

"I can-" Red Son started, raising a hand before pausing a frowning deeply. "Actually, no, I can't explain. This is just weird, even by my parent's standards. I have no idea what is going on, but since you're still here..." He shrugged with a hopeful smile, shaky through the uncertainty. "Maybe it's not bad? I mean, if Mother was truly upset or wanted to do something bad surely she would have not left us to our own devices. Maybe she’s... uh... happy I finally have a boyfriend?”

At the pointed raise of an eyebrow from MK that hopeful smile faltered a bit. Happy Red Son had a boyfriend for the first time in a couple centuries? Under different circumstances he wouldn't doubt that! Happy when that boyfriend was MK?

Oh he did doubt that.

He knew that they shouldn't have been sneaking around the way they had been. It had made sense at first, two people on opposite sides of a feud lasting centuries who discovered they actually enjoyed spending time together more than fighting each other. One who decided he very much would rather not follow through with any kind of domination and see his family hurt, who realized "actually my sworn nemesis isn't so bad", and another who decided "my life is already weird enough, why not give this befriending my enemy thing a shot".

And then one thing lead to another and before they knew it their secret friend meet up became a secret boyfriend meet up. They'd managed to keep everything under wraps for a while (except from Mei because, well... she was his best friend! He couldn't not tell someone and she would have found out fast if he wasn't obvious, and she had quickly become a mutual source of support for both of them), though MK knew Pigsy and the others knew something was up. They didn't question him, though, aside from the occasional good natured jab. "Wow MK, you seem happy today. Got any plans?" and that sort of thing. They seemed to trust him to make his own decisions, as long as he was happy and healthy and eventually told them. (Sun Wukong, however, may have caught in a little when he jokingly asked if MK had gotten a boyfriend and MK had choked on his drink. He never brought it up specifically after that but he was smart. Too smart.)

Red Son, on the other hand, was fantastic at keeping secrets when he tried. Or MK thought he was... the last few months gave no indication that either of his parents had discovered their little sneaky rendezvous. Then Princess Iron Fan broke into his apartment and, well, here they are. Clearly something had gone wrong somewhere along the line.

Before MK could follow through with any questions of whether or not there could be a fate worse than instant death that involved lulling him into a false sense of security, the two men froze at the sound of quickly approaching voices.

“Could this not have been done another way, my dear?”

“Kidnapping them was the only way I was going to get them here, you know that. Noodle Boy is not that gullible, contrary to what we first believed.”

Ah... shit... Red Son’s parents.

Mk quickly ran through all the possessions he had in his apartment and wondered if he had time to text Mei or Pigsy the world’s fastest will and testament and if that would be legally binding. He just hoped he had something for Pigsy to handle the Phantom Orderer they'd had for the last year.

They always ordered on the app and prepaid and managed to leave him a sizeable tip in his tuk-tuk after he dropped off the food at whatever random location they indicated.

"Good," PIF's voice rang clear, far faster than he could even attempt to pull out his phone, and MK turned to see that she was casually lounging on the shoulder of the Demon Bull King. She jumped down, her wind lightening her fall so much so that she barely made a sound when her feet touched ground. "You've made yourself comfortable."

MK couldn't bring himself to move, as much as he very dearly wanted to run away as quickly as possible. Yes, he was The Monkie Kid and had progressed far enough that he could probably escape without much problem. Yes, he and DBK had had an understanding after the White Bone Spirit and Lunar New Year Festival (though he still didn't know if PIF ever found out about that one). Yes, Princess Iron Fan had shown little interest in him before and had even worked beside him with no complaints (she didn't even care enough to attack during the Food Wars thing!). But that was all before she apparently found out he was dating her son behind her back while they were technically still enemies.

He was glad at that moment that she had grabbed them before they went to get lunch... his stomach was doing back flips that would make a gymnast jealous.

"Uh, yes Miss-Mrs-Muh-M- Princess Iron... Fan?" MK couldn't help but stutter awkwardly, holding onto the hem of his jacket and worrying it as he tried to keep his composure. He looked beside him, watching as Red sat straighter and kept an even expression on his face that he couldn't quite place. His hair seemed to spark softly.

Though she raised a brow at this, PIF didn't comment on that at all. Instead she made her way to the other couch across from them as opposed to what was clearly supposed to be her throne, leaning forward right her elbows on her knees and her fingers laced together in front of her. DBK stopped behind her, seemingly content to stay standing.

"Noodle Boy... you prefer to go by MK, is that correct?" She started, and he nodded slowly in confused response. "Hmn... so. You've been dating my son for quite some time. Many months... no, a bit over a year if I am not mistaken in how long his behavior has changed." 'Oh shit' went MK's brain. "You must be quite serious, if you're willing to go through so much just to see each other. Late night meetings. Secret hideaways. Sneaking onto Flower Fruit Mountain, even." 'Oh SHIT' it repeated in horror. "That's quite the dedication to show toward anyone... I hate to admit it, but I am quite impressed." 'OH SH-wait what?'

"Bw-huh?" Was what MK managed out, half a sound that was almost a word and half a squeak of confusion.

"The fact I myself remained oblivious until only a few weeks ago is quite something. Let's make a deal, shall we?" She continued, sitting back straight and looking like the proud Princess she was and not like a woman sitting on a couch that looked comically small in front of her enormous husband. "You and Red Son no longer have to hide your relationship from us and in exchange..." she paused, as if relishing the building tension between herself and the couple before her. "You will come over at least once a week so we can get to actually know you properly."

MK froze. Red Son froze even more.

Then his entire head lit ablaze as he jumped up and gestured at his mother with a gaping mouth. "Th-that's it!? I-I was... I was RIGHT!?"

PIF barely reacted to this, merely lounging sideways as she put her elbow on the arm of the couch and rested her cheek on her hand.

"Whatever you were right about, I suppose you were. But yes," she shrugged, honestly looking... kinda happy? "Has this been about a year ago I perhaps would not have understood what you saw in Nood-MK. But I can see how happy you have been lately, and there's something about him that is like... what did you say he was like, darling?" She turned to DBK, who shrugged himself with an unreadable expression.

"A ball of sunshine given human form."

... that was not what MK ever expected to hear from the Demon Bull King's mouth...

"Yes, that's it," she nodded as if this was completely normal and ignored how Red Son flopped back down onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. "I'd hate to admit it, but you've grown on us through out sparse interactions. Somehow. And we have been eagerly waiting for the day we could finally welcome someone into our son's life. So what do you say? Do we have a deal?"

She seemed... serious. MK may not know her that well, but it was clear to anyone when she wasn't being so.

"Uh... o-ok? Sure?" MK said softly, nodding in amazement as DBK and PIF actually smiled at this.

This was the strangest day of his life, beating our every single demon fight and even the day he got the Monkey King's staff. But he'd take this strangeness over the alternative 500 times over.

"Excellent," DBK nodded himself, there was a lot of that about. "That seems to have worked out n-"

Everyone paused at a loud grumble echoed the room, all turning to Red Son as he flared up in embarrassment this time.

"Don't look at me like that, we were supposed to eat half an hour ago and I am starving," Red Son grumbled as he sat up, not looking anyone in the eye. "I don't suppose we could. Eat now? Please?"

Despite the situation, MK couldn't help but smile at his pouting.

"I could bring us some food from Pigsy's?" MK offered in an attempt to contribute. Something. "I mean, I know Red likes it and you kinda seemed to like it the one time you tried it and... uh... yeah."

"Actually... I may have eaten seven of them already..." PIF admitted, looking away in embarrassment. "l've tried not to give into the temptation, but your father's noodles from the Food Wars were so... I just can't resist ordering some secretly after 5 or so weeks!"

"So you're the phantom orderer!" MK gasped out in shock, but after a moment he frowned and rubbed the back of his head. He had a bit of an idea. "Well... I could... make some for us instead?" He ammended his offered softly. "I may not make it exactly like Pigsy does, but I can get pretty close as long as you have the ingredients! And you wouldn't have to worry about me going there and coming back! We can eat like. Immediately!"

"I think that sounds acceptable," PIF said with a nod as she stood, but MK could see a bit of excitement sparkling in her usually cold eyes. "Come, Red Son. I need to discuss some upgrades the Bull Clones have been asking for with you. Your father can assist him in the kitchen until we are done."

Red looked over at MK and only stood to follow his mother once he nodded, giving his father a pointed look before exited the room. MK, in the meantime, looking up at DBK with a gulp and followed him as he lead the way toward their kitchen.

It was... well, bigger than he was used to. But pretty normal, regal size and decor aside. And it seemed, once he was given the nod of ok from his host (and wasn't that a bizarre thing, DBK and PIF being his hosts on a home visit to his boyfriend's parents... he was going to need to get used to that) he checked the fridge and counters and found he had just about everything he needed to make what he had in mind.

"Can you teach me how to do that?" DBK asked after a moment, startling MK into nearly dropping the sauce he needed for the broth. "Not the recipe itself, just..." He gestured to the counter. "Red Son has a bit of a proclivity toward cooking and he's been trying to get me involved, but we've never cooked anything like. That."

His words were awkward and stilted, but MK could tell he was trying. The same way he could tell PIF wasn't kidding with her offer. They just seemed to... want to get to know him as a potential... son-in-law... huh.

"Sure, but you're gonna want to shrink down a bit for this."

Lunch turned out amazing and, while awkward (much like most of the day)... it was nice not to have to hide their dating for once. And Red actually seemed pretty happy! Though he learned quickly that the Monkey King was still a bit of an (understandably) sore subject that was best avoided. For now.

Maybe not forever though.

(When PIF very not subtly dropped him and Red Son both off inside Pigsy's Noodles after their lunch, the only response he got was a "oh, so they finally found out huh? Looks like things went well" from Pigsy and Tang. Maybe he wasn't as sneaky as he thought he was...)

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #gen fic #mk #qi xiaotian #red son #spicynoodleshipping #dbk and pif #pif may be one of least favorite characters in the show for a few reasons #but even she can have good moments in my fics from time to time #crack treated seriously #i love that i can use that tag #ship fic but only just

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dehydratedpool · 4 years ago

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hello again!! it’s the beginning of a new month, meaning a new fic rec post!! here are some fics that i read this month that are just... exquisite and deserve all the love and attention <3

there aren’t as many as last time unfortunately, since i was quite busy this past month, but i promise next month won’t fall short! ((fics that i’ve reread this month are indicated with a **))

Foolishly Laying Our Hearts On The Table [11k] by runaway_train @runaway-train-works

“You think Harry wants that?”

“Dunno. Maybe. Wanna make him happy.” Harry takes advantage of the red light he’s pulled up to turn and look properly at Louis’ face. He’s not even looking in Harry’s direction though, focused instead on something out of his side window, head drooped, mindlessly playing with the string of his hoodie between his fingers, lost in his own world somewhere. For some reason, it makes Harry’s spine straighten.

“Because he’s your best mate?” Harry questions carefully.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

He couldn’t have heard him right. “What?”

Louis releases a deep breath, still not turning around. Harry wonders who he thinks he’s talking to right now. “He’s so pretty. Want to kiss him all day long. And buy him a big house and give him presents and marry him.”

Or; The one where Harry is in love with his best friend Louis but doesn't think he stands a chance until some wisdom teeth and a rather unusual confession might just change his mind.

--> this is a new comfort fic for me tbh. i got rec’d this after louis tweeted about getting his wisdom teeth removed, and i’m so SO glad i decided to give it a read. it’s so precious and lovely and personally, i found it to be a quick read. it’s the kind of fic that makes me both warm and fuzzy inside but also highly upset that i’m single and will surely be alone forever

Just Let Me [14k] by HelloAmHere

The party was going well. So well, Niall had already sworn undying love to one multi-tiered chocolate cake, two friendly corgi-poodle mixes, Zayn’s hair, and the entire population of Los Angeles. So well, Zayn had only laughed and ruffled Niall’s hair and not even twitched towards a cigarette. So well, nearly everyone had spilled far past the boundaries of the night’s original plans, extracting bottles of vodka from the cabinets and losing a lot of clothes. Harry had proclaimed that he was finally going to throw a small and very grownup dinner party and of course here they were three hours later, fifty people half-naked in the pool. Soon to be full-naked, if Louis had to guess. Everybody in LA loved a heated pool. Everybody loved Harry.

--> ok LISTEN. as some of you know, i just recently got into reading a/b/o fics and this one is definitely at the top of my fave a/b/o fics out there. it’s an interesting take on the trope, almost a bit more realistic in my opinion, and to quote the author’s note, “’what if a/b/o but less biological determinism?’”. i believe i found this one through a masterpost of “touch-deprivation fics”, so if that’s your thing, give this one a chance!

my ugly mouth kept running [4k] by theankletattoo @hadestyles

Another seed, another try except they know what caused the first wilt. They will be careful, they will be kind and together they will nurture it to life.

sometimes second chances are more important than the first.

--> rori, the author, never fails to disappoint when it comes to all of her works. i’ve said it once and i’ll say it again, she’s so incredibly fucking talented it’s unreal. her imagery is so vivid and real it leaves simultaneously everything and nothing to the imagination. as usual, h and l’s dynamic in this is an addicting portion to this fic that has you anticipating how their dynamic will shift and grow up until the end. if you’ve yet to read any of rori’s work, i suggest you add that to your to-do list for the month, and get a head start to her collection with this one!

**As Wicked As Anything Could Be [21k] by whoknows @crazyupsetter

It starts when Louis decides that he wants to lose his cherry and announces that he thinks the best way to do that is by going to a gay club. Naturally, Harry can’t let him go alone, so he tags along and spends the night rating guys with Louis until someone finally catches Louis’s eye.

Harry shoves him out to dance with the guy, and he can already tell that it’s going to be a quick and dirty hook up, so he’s not surprised that Louis and the guy disappear into the bathroom ten minutes later.

It is a surprise when Louis comes out not even two minutes later, pale and clammy, grabs Harry by the hand and drags him right out the door.

Somehow Harry comes to the decision that it would be a good idea for him to be in the room with Louis while Louis gets laid.

It’s a stupid fucking decision.

--> i discovered this fic a while ago on a whim and i have zero regrets. this is absolutely on my top ten fave fics list (that has yet to exist but perhaps i’ll post it one day). whoknows is a well known author within the fandom, so i’m sure i don’t have to say much about their immense talent, but SERIOUSLY, their plot progression, even their use of dialogue is wonderful in every way. as a writer, i envy them lmao. this fic takes me on a rollercoaster every time i read it, it’s yet another comfort fic of mine and never fails to disappoint every time i pick it up again. please, do yourselves a favor this april and read this.

Keeping The Flame Alive [19k] by whoknows @crazyupsetter

Recording with One Direction never felt like this. There’s a couple reasons for that, Harry thinks. One is that they did most of their recording on the road, rushed and in busses and hotel rooms, never in one place long enough to really get an argument going. The other, larger and more important one, is that back then he had the sweetest, meanest little omega around to distract him from all of that frustration.

The first time around, when he’d been recording his debut solo album, it hit him pretty hard. He likes to think he’s better adjusted to it now, but frustration is warring under his skin nonetheless. He doesn’t want to be told what to do most of the time, and he especially doesn’t want to be told what to do when it comes to his music.

What he does want right now is that sweet, mean little omega right in front of him with his mouth on Harry’s cock. Unfortunately, the best he’s got is his own hand and a shared toilet. So. That’s really not going to work.

--> yes, for the first time in dehydratedpoolfics history of fic recs even tho i’ve only been doing this for a month i am rec’ing the same author twice, but seriously, how could i not??? this fic took me on a literal journey like... wtf. i have no words. seriously, i have none, i’m just that blown away, go read it for yourself .

**a trail of honey through it all [27k] by bruisedhoney @yvesaintlourent

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

Or, the TPH fic we’ve all been waiting for.

--> okay look. i may or may not have a slight obsession with this fic. i reread it constantly, mostly for the iconic line, “are we fuckin’ or fightin’?”, because how can i not scream over that?? ((also patiently waiting for the sequel)) this is a literary masterpiece, one that defines an entire generation of this fandom i stg. but in all seriousness, hayley, the author, does such a wonderful job of giving the reader a vivid look into “nowhere, georgia”, and as a southern gal myself, i absolutely adore the itty bitty pieces of southern culture embedded into this, the tiny quirks that make this fic authentic. i could probably go on forever on why this fic is so iconic, but perhaps you should read it for yourself instead *wink* *wink*

SO. that’s all for this month!! if you read any of these, first of all, be sure to read the tags and author’s note (if any) before starting, AND please don’t forget to leave a quick kudos or comment, it means more than you may ever know <3

#fic recs #fic rec #yourlarrysource #hlcreators #hljournal #harry styles #louis tomlinson #larry stylinson #fanfiction #writing #march 2021 fic recs

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garychou · 5 years ago

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The Half of It

Alice Wu's first film in 15 years, THE HALF OF IT, came out on Netflix last Friday, and I tweeted about it, along with some profiles on Alice, here:

🙌 Tonight's the night! 15 years after her first feature—the groundbreaking and iconic film Saving Face—@thatalicewu is back with the premiere of #TheHalfOfIt on @netflix! (For all the parents out there it's PG-13):https://t.co/TofyaAF0so

— Gary Chou (@garychou) May 1, 2020

I absolutely loved it—the writing, the characters, the performances and how its shot—but the thing that stands out most to me is the craft of the film: achieving a level of density and layering in the film while still pulling off an extremely light pace.

There's a great Tweet thread that highlights a few of these moments in the film (it's worth clicking through to take a look at the full thread):

reflections of your other half pic.twitter.com/F5NhbyTMJw

— caitlin (@sapphiccaitlin) May 2, 2020

Click through to see the full thread.

It's a tough feat to pull off this level of complexity, but it helps when you have a clear sense of what you're trying to do.

I remember stumbling upon Alice's Director's Note for SAVING FACE from 2005 a few years back and was impressed with the clarity in that. She recently reposted it in its entirety on Medium, but here's one of my favorite parts:

I am fascinated by human ineptitude. I rarely see the world in terms of good and evil, right or wrong. I think most people strive to do the right thing. That the “right thing” is so often wrong is uncanny, sometimes tragic, and often very, very funny. My favorite stories arise from good-but-flawed characters trying desperately to do what each believes is best for a given situation — and the situation keeps getting worse. The characters don’t find any of this funny; we as the audience laugh out of recognition — in their boat, we might do (and perhaps have done) worse.

And so, I was thrilled to see Netflix post Alice's Director's Note for THE HALF OF IT on Twitter, albeit as a bit of an awkward multi-part Twitter thread without a direct link to the full text.

After some advanced Google sleuthing, I found the full text in a PDF created as an educational guide (which also has an excellent Q&A).

Here's an excerpt:

The Half of It didn’t start as a movie about teens. I set out to write about 20-something best friends, a lesbian and a straight guy, trying to understand love, while not fully understanding their own connection. And then I hit a wall: I couldn’t find an ending (not in 100 pages) that felt both satisfying and earned. Them’s the breaks when you try to write from life — and you haven’t the faintest idea how to make life work the way you want it to. I didn’t know how to keep that love then, and I certainly don’t know now. So. I threw up my hands and thought, “I should just set this thing in high school.” Because only in high school is everything heightened, every feeling the first and therefore only time you will feel this feeling, and frankly, when it comes to love, don’t we all regress to being teenagers? As often happens in my work, at a certain point, my characters took over; a whole Cyrano component slipped in, and the film became something else entirely.

(As a side note, there should be a website of just Director's Notes for films. I'm a huge fan of writing as both a mechanism to think through ideas as well a measure of clarity of thought, and so it's interesting to see how such notes do or don't pair well with the respective film, in general.)

In any event, check out the film if you haven't already, it's a wonderfully rich film, and I'm looking forward to watching it again to catch all the things I missed the first time through.

youtube

Originally posted: https://garychou.com/notes/the-half-of-it/

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artificialqueens · 6 years ago

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sometimes a fantasy [is all you need] (branjie) -- frenchy

a/n: hi hello!! i’m frenchy, & this is my first fic on here, despite being a longtime reader!! i sent an ask addressing my inspiration to write a branjie get-back-together fic, where they are hiding their still existing feelings behind a pr stunt/their social media interactions & fall back together through these/acknowledge that it’s deeper than they are pretending. it seemed to interest quite a few people so here she is!! this can be read as a long one shot, but considering how much content they are providing us with, i may continue it?? maybe!

ps. this does not include all the things they’ve posted thus far, but i will definitely try to include most of what we’ve seen so far as references/plot points in future parts if i continue this! ! this takes place while the show is airing, beginning action-wise after episode 4’s airing. it heavily involves the video with branjie that nina west posted on her instagram a few days ago! also, i am not giving into the assumption that they are actually broken up, but in the context of this fic, those rumors are true! okay that is enough, i am super excited about this, i hope you all enjoy ahhh!! <3

@Bhytes1: Hey Papi

@VanessaVanjie: @Bhytes1 What

*****

It had begun innocently enough.

Or, at least, that’s what the both of them would claim if ever asked about it. A tweet or two there, a cryptic emoji-strung comment here, and a handful of tooth-rotting gif interactions. It was almost rare for a day to pass without at least once mentioning of each other through social media, whether direct or not.

Brooke Lynn recognized the necessity for this. They both did. That’s why they were doing it.

They hadn’t necessarily discussed the inevitability of fans indulging in their on-screen romance, but there was an unspoken agreement between them, as well as with their fellow RuGirls. No one would bring up their current relationship status, and all would remain playful – that’s how fanservice worked, after all. Give the fans what they wanted, to ensure they would stay in tow. It reaped many a benefit not only for the show’s ratings, but for the queens involved. The season was only a few episodes deep, and already the interest in Brooke Lynn and Vanessa had spiked – both as a duo, and as individual performers. Brooke liked to believe it was her own doing that attracted so many new fans at such an early stage, though she had to give some credit to her more widely known castmate.

Still, as harmless as it posed to be, it didn’t take long for them to be accused of insincerity. A dozen tweets couldn’t change the fact that they were no longer together, that their relationship had ended before the season had even begun airing. They knew it, their fellow queens knew it – hell, half the fans knew it, even if they had not disclosed it officially. The fandom they found themselves thrust into wasn’t one unknown for spreading gossip and spoilers. The breakup had gone smoothly for the most part, at least when concerned with the public eye. It had been a quick discussion, albeit a tense one: was it smart to remain together when their lives were about to be changed? The two of them were self-aware and smart enough to recognize that their personal growth required separation. That the glorification of their growing relationship on TV would only put a strain on what they had in the present. Neither of them wanted to risk the prospect of resentment.

But they were being proven wrong, day by day. They talked and responded to each other every day, typically without any push from outside sources. They found themselves going from simply answering questions about each other and acknowledging fan reactions, to seeking out each other, interacting with no prompting. It was for the fans, yes, but Brooke never sensed any tension between the two of them. Maybe she was misinterpreting, but she and Vanessa seemed to do the whole “indulging the fans” thing flawlessly. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

And that’s what led them to where they were tonight, in a small office at REBAR Chelsea, too many people for too small a room. The music was almost deafening outside the walls, but was no match for the voices in said room. Specifically, Vanessa. Loud, brazen Vanessa Vanjie Mateo, in a glittery upside-down jersey dress, off her shoulders, her makeup freshly set and her adrenaline pumping even before having stepped out onstage for the night. She had been meticulously placing her blonde wig on her head in the mirror, making an effort to chime in more-than-occasionally to the conversation Nina West found herself deep in with a friend, despite being across the room. Brooke opted to sit in the corner, scrolling through her phone, Vanessa being the sole one of the three of them in drag for the night.

“More than iconic, really. The fans love it,” Nina’s friend had said, prompting Brooke to glance towards them. She hadn’t been paying attention to what was being said, though the mention of fans always peaked her interest. “Definitely need a recreation of that iconic moment at the reunion.”

“Iconic moment?” Brooke asked through a growing smile, interrupting, causing heads to turn towards the new voice contributing to the conversation. Nina laughed, with a hint of hesitation, turning her body fully to face Brooke, still sat in the corner of the seemingly-shrinking room.

She nodded enthusiastically, eyebrows up. “Untucked. Y’know how funny everyone found my reaction to you and Vanessa?” Nina clarified, gesturing towards the mentioned queen, who glanced at them through the reflection of the body-length mirror, still messing with her wig.

Brooke made a noise of understanding. “They live for their memes, bitch,” she answered. Naturally, she had seen the uproar that the last Untucked had caused, specifically when concerned with Nina’s shock towards the kiss. Brooke heard Vanessa laugh under her breath, accompanied by a curt nod signifying her agreement to Brooke’s statement.

“It’s crazy,” Nina nodded as well, proceeding to take a sip from the glass of water she held tightly in her right hand. She was halfway through swallowing when her eyes widened, an excited yet smug smile bringing the conversation back from its natural pause. “Why wait for the reunion? I mean, like, it’s fresh right now! Imagine how funny a recreation would be if we made it right now. We’re all here, aren’t we?” She nodded towards Vanessa before looking back to Brooke.

“So, milk it?”

“You and Vanjie should be pros at that with how you’re playing off this ‘on screen romance’ stuff,” Nina raised her free hand to provide seemingly unnecessary air quotes. Brooke scoffed gently. The romance was real, the follow up was not. It wasn’t, none of the tweets or interactions held any merit. But Brooke almost felt a personal offense at the implication that what they had before was fake, even if she had just misunderstood and Nina didn’t mean it that way. It shouldn’t have bothered her as much as it did. “It’ll fare well for the two of you, and it’s all good fun. What’s the consensus?”

There was a moment of tentative silence, a sudden hush. It was unusual for Vanessa to not be bouncing off the walls, her adrenaline from before nowhere to be found. Brooke looked over at her, making quick eye contact with her through the mirror. Vanessa raised a painted eyebrow at her, as if asking – no, suggesting, that it could be a good idea. It wouldn’t hurt. Right?

“Could be funny,” Brooke answered for the two of them, her smile returning.

Nina nodded, handing her phone to the woman at her side. “Let’s do it!” She straightened her denim jacket, water still in her hand, posing as a makeshift cocktail. Brooke stood from her seat, clearing her throat and watching as Vanessa finally turned her back to the mirror and faced the rest of them, a smile now adorned and her reluctance from before vanishing at the sight of a camera. The sight brought a certain weakness to Brooke, if only for a moment, just as it had every time she saw that smile. There was nothing different in how Vanessa made her feel still, she could appreciate things like that about her even if they weren’t an item.

“So, what, just kiss? Like in the Untucked?” Brooke made an effort to look away from Vanessa, but it felt like the reluctance Vanjie held was instead transferred to her. It was the same loss of focus she became familiar with during drag race, where even the just the knowledge of Vanessa being in the same room was enough of a distraction. She never complained, though.

“Yeah. Just like in the Untucked,” Nina kept herself at a distance from the other two queens, her body facing the now three people with phone cameras posed at them, others in the room joining in to capture the moment.

Vanessa again quirked an eyebrow at Brooke, who felt herself get uncharacteristically nervous. Why was she nervous? She hoped no one clocked her uneasy breathing, or heard her heartbeat as loudly as she did. She considered herself a good actress, but it was easier being playful and coy through twitter – how does one kiss their ex on camera, casually enough to make it look natural and real, but not too comfortable as to earn speculation from Vanessa herself, who clearly had no problem playing this up in front of the camera. It was certainly a tricky situation they were in. She wondered for a moment if Vanessa was struggling in the same way.

Brooke made a mental note to bring it up someday.

She wondered how long she stood spacing out, due to Vanessa no longer regarding her and instead living her directing fantasy. “You gotta start, like they did – like they did when we did this, you gotta say action,” she was instructing those who were filming, gesturing wildly.

“Ready? Yeah,” the woman nodded along, halfheartedly taking in Vanjie’s words, already having pressed the record button. “Okay ready?”

“Do it now,” Vanessa told her, and Brooke registered the deep breath that Vanessa took moments before they were to kiss.

“Action. Action.”

It was a blur after that – perhaps not in the moment, as she was conscious enough to chime in with a comically over-exaggerated “Did ya’ll see that?” after Nina and Vanessa both quoted it themselves. But when Brooke thought back to the video that ended up attracting attention on Nina’s Instagram later that night, she hardly could recall the details. It was foggy, most of it. Excluding the kiss.

Was she right in calling it a kiss? It was hardly that. A quick peck, reminiscent of the one they were recreating, not even enough for Vanessa’s lipstick to transfer onto Brooke’s unpainted lips. Not even enough to Brooke to over-analyze. Or so she thought.

Nina retrieved her phone as soon as they had finished the reenactment, smiling to herself as she hit play to watch the video. Vanessa quickly joined her to watch it, her smile losing its sincerity as they watched. Brooke remained across the room, attempting to gauge their reactions under the guise of gathering her own bearings, picking her own phone back up from where she had been sitting.

“S’it good? Convincing, too?” Brooke asked after the video had ended, the unasked ‘Too convincing?’ threatening to spill from her lips. She noticed that while Nina appeared overjoyed at the video, laughing to herself and pocketing her phone, Vanessa’s expression offered an air of concern. The look of trouble alone revived Brooke’s anxiety.

“Yeah, no, it’s good. Really good, thanks, guys,” Nina addressed both the ex-couple and those who had recorded the video, each from different angles, though only one would end up on the Ohioan’s Instagram. “I’m going to head out there, good luck up there tonight, girl,” Nina nudged Vanessa, who only gave a halfhearted smile and a quiet ‘Thanks’ in response.

Nina turned to leave, the others all following her, leaving after them a tension that filled the room. The room that only Vanessa and Brooke were left in.

“Hm,” Vanessa returned to her place in front of the mirror, lost in thought and not acknowledging that she wasn’t alone. Brooke sat back down, one hand occupied by her phone and the other fidgeting with the hem of her black blazer. Maybe she was overestimating how long and uncomfortable the silence felt, but Brooke wasn’t so sure it was that crazy of an exaggeration.

“Definitely should help fuel that fire,” Brooke spoke up, choosing to entertain the prospect of discussing the kiss rather than sitting in that loud silence. Vanessa didn’t stop touching up her makeup in the mirror to look at Brooke, just nodded. “Maybe we could post a picture together at some point soon. Is that too much?” Brooke laughed, not sure if her laugh was directed at her own question or Vanjie’s lack of an answer.

After another extended silence, Vanessa suddenly turned around to grab her own phone off the small table in the center of the room. “Let’s do it.”

Brooke was taken aback, needing a second to readjust to Vanessa’s usual volume returning after having been quiet in thought for so long. She watched as Vanessa snapped her fingers expectedly, waiting for Brooke to stand up, plausibly for a selfie.

“What, right now? We can’t post it right now, girl.”

“And why not?” Vanessa countered, her free hand going to her hip. “If we gonna do this, we have to keep feeding the children. We can’t let them go hungry,” she attempted to lighten up the tension in the room that had been there ever since Nina and the others left.

Brooke chuckled deeply, shaking her head. “Not after that video. Give it a week, maybe.” She hoped Vanessa would understand where she was coming from and drop it. She had thought they shared that logic in this situation, in the faux flirting and how it worked PR wise. It was bad to over-saturate this.

“Hmm,” Vanessa repeated from before, evidently unconvinced. She dropped her phone back, heading towards the door. Brooke felt relief ease her anxiety, focusing back on her own phone.

She didn’t even notice that Vanessa had paused in the doorway, looking over her shoulder back at the man out of drag.

“That’s mighty shady of you, Miss Brooke,” the graveness in her voice forced Brooke to look up, making sincere eye contact for the first time that night. “Reeaaaaalll shady.” Vanessa’s tone held a certain hesitance, a caution. She was unique in that way, in the way that she carried herself in private compared to in the public eye. While most minded themselves and grew wary when being watched, in regards to what they say, how they act – she was the opposite. Upon the chaos of the Werk Room, the need to be recognized on national television, Vanessa tended to surrender her control. She was brash, and loud, and unapologetic; she was likable for this.

That wasn’t the Vanessa that stood now before Brooke in the stuffy room.

Brooke raised a single eyebrow, unsure if her growing smirk was welcome. Unsure of whether this was a real dig, or a classic shady Vanjie joke.

“Shady? And, what? You’re innocent in this?”

No longer looking over her shoulder, Vanessa turned fully to face Brooke, her back to the hall. Brooke noted the way her eyes subtly narrowed under her four pairs of stacked lashes, her head cocking with a void of amusement. She didn’t answer or play off of Brooke as she normally would have if this was a lighthearted exchange, instead opting to stay quiet, as if observing Brooke, sizing her up. Her painted eyebrows furrowed with the narrowing of her eyes, though her concentration felt deeper than her simply fabricating another shady comment to hit back with. If she wanted to, she would have already thrown it – she was quick witted enough to bypass usual brainstorming.

When Vanessa cracked a weak smile (albeit it didn’t reach her eyes), Brooke let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“I never said I was innocent. In any meaning of the word. We both know that,” Vanessa took a step forward, back into the room, her voice knocked down a few volumes, for Brooke to hear only. “Even the fans know that, with some of the things we’ve been tweetin’ and sayin’. Whether they’re real or not,” she added, shrugging.

“They’re not,” Brooke challenged, saying matter-of-factly.

“See, that!” Vanessa laughed, pointing to Brooke. “You betta stop! Stop that, bitch.”

Confused, Brooke glanced Vanessa up and down. “What? Stop what?” She wished she could claim naivety. She knew exactly what Vanessa was saying.

Instead of answering her, Vanessa once again stood before her, looking down at her – not much, as even with Brooke seated and Vanessa in heels, the height difference made it so that they weren’t at an unusually unfair playing field now. She waited for an instant, to see if Brooke would say something. When she didn’t, Vanessa crossed over to sit in the empty chair beside her. Brooke didn’t ask if she sat so close to the edge intentionally, to be as close as possible to the Canadian queen.

That tense psychic feeling was back, but it felt different this time. She just couldn’t point to what changed. Was the whole room engulfed by this feeling, or just the few inches between the two? Regardless, Brooke felt her stomach knot, and had to stop her leg from bouncing in the space between them. If only Vanessa would get to the point. The point Brooke already knew she was making.

“Y’know, Brooke Lynn,” Vanessa drew out her words, in a sort of emphatic yet teasing manner, it being uncommon for her to use the second part of Brooke’s drag name unless addressing her by full name. Her gaze dropped, and Brooke instinctively followed it – they both watched as Vanessa’s right hand moved to draw mindless patterns on Brooke’s pant leg, right above the knee. If it weren’t for how close Vanessa’s voice was when she spoke, Brooke could have easily hyper focused on the way Vanessa’s hand traced gently up and down. “At some point we have to quit pretending like this is only for the fans.”

“We talked about this,” Brooke kept her voice solid, despite the way Vanessa dropped her’s to just barely above a whisper. They both looked back up at the same time, although neither one backed off. Brooke could have sworn they were closer than they had been before Vanjie had taken her seat.

“Really?” Vanessa frowned, puzzled. There was a cloud of doubt in her eyes. “Musta been out of it ‘cause I can’t seem to remember us doing that. I think you’re mistaken, Miss Brooke.”

Brooke swallowed, shaking her head weakly, and tried to look away. She trained her eyes to a bulletin board on the wall. She had more than enough time to push the other queen away, or scoot back, or even get up.

She stayed where she was, could feel Vanessa’s eyes on her.

When she realized Brooke was adamant on not entertaining the conversation, Vanessa continued. “So. Tell me, then… What you’re tryna say is that if I were to kiss you right now, with no one around to see it, you’d pull out a camera to take a picture of it? You’d tweet about it? It wouldn’t feel real to you, at all?” She knew what she was doing, she could tell Brooke was trying her hardest not to look at her.

Until she did, her eyes making contact with Vanessa’s again, mere centimeters from her face. “Is that hypothetical?” Brooke’s voice entered into a whisper. She made the mistake of glancing down towards Vanessa’s coated lips. She wasn’t fast enough in fixing her error, as Vanessa had already noticed and consequently did the same, a smirk playing at her lips.

“It don’t gotta be. That one’s up to you,” Vanessa breathed, yet the way she inched impossibly closer said otherwise.

“I–”

Before Brooke could allow the anticipation to drive her crazy, Vanessa’s lips were on her’s.

It was nothing like the kisses they shared on camera, neither drag race or the peck for Nina’s video. It was only the two of them, no pressure or expectation forcing them to maneuver with any caution. The kiss all too similar to the ones they would share after finally finding privacy in between filming, after not having seen each other for a week due to gigs, after spending the weekend together and waking up clinging to each other in the morning. It was all familiarity and comfort, butterflies and giddiness, as their lips moved in a passionate fervor. They didn’t think about posing, or the door to the room being wide open, or mixing nonchalance with playfulness.

Brooke had just released the tension in her body, the reluctance she feigned, when Vanessa broke the kiss.

“Mm?” Brooke blinked, fog passing slowly.

Vanessa moved away from her with a coquettish wink, flipping her wig dramatically over her shoulder that said wig didn’t even reach. “I got a show to do.”

That little fucker, Brooke huffed a laugh with an incredulous shake to her head.

“Maybe a reenactment later?” Vanessa paused again at the door, “Good luck tweetin’ unsuspiciously about that one and not bein’ urged to give me a private phone call after.” And with that, Vanessa vanished around the corner, Brooke not seeing the bashful smile she wore all the way to the stage. And she didn’t know that Brooke wore one to match.

*****

That night, the first thing Brooke saw upon opening Instagram was that damn video. As well as all the reposts and screenshots she had accordingly been tagged in. She prepared herself before playing it, not having seen it yet.

Stopping herself from smiling was out of the question as she watched the fifteen second clip. She watched it more than once, not breaking the natural loop it made whenever it ended.

And if she texted Nina later to send her the video, simply to rewatch the way Vanessa smiled into their kiss, well, she wouldn’t bring that part up.

*****

@Bhytes1: Because everyone loves a dramatic re-enactment

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #fluff #angst #frenchy #submission #canon compliant #s11 #sometimes a fantasy

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andwhatdostarsdobest · 6 years ago

Text

now it’s up to the dogs [t.h]

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Warnings: nothing just fluff and so many good boys and girls

Summary: they say dogs are mans best friend but could they be our guardian angels too?

Word Count: 4.7k

Prompt: ‘ma’am is this your dog?’

this is my submission for @hazsterfield writing challenge, it was touch and go as to whether i was going to get it in on time but it’s finally here !! it’s kind of a 101 dalmatian au, you know i could write about dogs and not include my fav film let me know what you think of it !

happy reading, lovelies

masterlist

They always say dogs match their owners, mirror their personality, even look like them. It’s easy to tell who you are going to find at the end of the lead by the dog attached to it. Or so they say. Looking at your own dog, you aren’t sure how true this can be.

Toast is bounding around the living room, the tip tap on the wooden floor echoing throughout. He is the goofiest dog you have ever met, repeatedly fumbling over his own legs and crashing into all sorts of furniture, never even dazed in the slightest. But under all that he is sweet too. He has this uncanny way of knowing exactly when you need him to lay his head on your lap and just let you draw tender strokes from his nose, trailing all the way down his back.

When you think about it, he is the one true constant in your life. When you were younger, you never dreamt that the solid part of your life would be a dog but here you are and honestly, you don’t mind. Toast may have his oddities, but he is a surprisingly good listener. Perhaps that is because he can’t speak back, but you prefer to think he genuinely cares.

In many ways he is the perfect companion.

Maybe that’s why you can’t find someone, because you are looking for all the qualities you find in your dog. It would explain a lot.

Regardless, Toast was bursting with energy, never seeming to tire, something you certainly lack. The similarities just aren’t evident to you.

You are propped up against some pillows in your window seat, noting the humorous juxtaposition of the serene world outside your window and the chaotic one behind it. The thought, ‘dogs embody their owners’ has been swirling round your mind since you woke up, after a tweet popped up on your timeline, last night, saying something similar. At first you were inclined to believe it, until you turned your attention to Toast, who was lying on his back, body contorted. His own vigorous rolling making his ear turn inside out and his tongue flop on his face, flecks of spit somehow coating his entire head. You couldn’t be more different.

All morning you had been overtly observing him, trying to find the likenesses but you were yet to land on anything solid.

“Come here, pup,” you call to him.

Without hesitation he comes careening into your outstretched hand and begins licking your palm, his tongue soft and wet. With your free hand you ruffle his ears, cracking up at the dopey face he is pulling.

That dog is barmy, but he makes you happy, you hope you do the same for him.

Toast nuzzles into your leg trying to convince you to move over. Before you could, his paws are already resting on the window seat next to you and with one great leap he settles in besides you. Even though there was barely enough room for yourself, you still create a space for him to sit comfortably.

You continue to stroke him, his fur silky between your fingers.

Maybe people only seem like their dogs from the outside because there is no way we can compare really. They are so selfless and giving, never wanting more than your simple love. Perhaps the statement should be ‘owners become more like their dogs’.

A woman catches your attention from the street outside your window. Covering the slivers of exposed skin were tattoos, a variety of colours snaking around her body. You are too far away to work out what any of them are, except for one bright orange one on her hand, that perfectly matches the shade of her hair. In her hands is a small, dark grey dog, stark of fur. It’s pink belly poking through. Dogs begin to look like their owners. It really seems like a stretch in this situation. The woman looks like a walking art exhibit, an abstract masterpiece. While her dog is barren, simplistic, devoid of vibrancy. Although they both have wiry hair framing their faces it isn’t enough. The most similar quality is their uniqueness, you can tell they certainly both have a strong sense of character, but there isn’t any physical resemblance that you can see.

Lightly shaking your head, you shift your gaze to Toast, who is staring intently out of the window, quietly whimpering.

“What do you think? A good match?” you ask him.

“Arf.” The way his jowls are pulled back tells you all you need to know.

“Hmm, yeah, I wasn’t sure about that one either.”

Leaning back against the wall, you readjust the cushion at the base of your spine until you feel comfy. A rough feeling spreads across your hand, that rests on your knee, and you look towards it. Toast is licking the skin in modest strokes, eyes looking up at you, wanting to comfort you.

You giggle, “it’s okay, silly pup. Maybe the next one will be the one.”

Both your heads turn back to the pavement, the question still playing on your mind.

A child of about ten skips along the pavement.

“Oh, definitely not.” Toast shakes his head.

“I meant the next, next one,” you confirm.

The child is gripping a red rope lead tightly, which trails just behind her as a very elderly Labrador follows. His pace is lumbered and his muzzle grey, his face drawn out and taut in his old age. But his head is still held high, tongue lolling to the side, watching the child with a shine in his eye. Although the girl is skipping along, her short legs prevent her from getting very far, so their pace is evenly matched. They both stop half way along the path, the girl rubbing between the dog’s ears, a smile encapsulating her face. The dog’s tail vibrates through the air, so fast it becomes a blur.

“Huh,” you mumble to yourself, Toast’s wagging tail in your periphery.

Perhaps it’s not written that your zest for life diminishes as you get older.

Toast has his nose pressed into the glass, lips flat against it. His breath creating a foggy circle around him. You can tell there is going to be a wonderful patch of slobber left over when he’s done. One you will have to wipe off. But how can you be mad at that face? He has such an endearing quality, always in awe and wonder of the world around him.

You scratch behind his ear, causing his leg to start thumping, indicating you’ve hit the sweet spot.

“You’ll always be loopy, won’t you?” you chuckle.

Toast is thumping his leg so hard he starts to push the cushion beneath him, off the window seat, almost taking himself with it.

“No.”

You lunge forward, placing your hand under his bum and pushing him back up. He doesn’t even react, continuing to lean into your affection. Scratching along his entire body now, running your fingers right to the end of his tail, you wonder what you would do without your dog. Your best friend.

“Woof.” His bark so loud it rings in your ears for a few seconds afterwards.

Toast is looking at you, but as soon as you turn your attention to him, he snaps straight towards the window again.

A guy around your age appears from behind the iron railings, clad in a baggy black hoodie and joggers. A navy baseball cap pulled down low. He gives the impression he is trying to go unnoticed and he probably would have succeeded if he didn’t look up as someone else crossed his path. In that brief moment, you catch a glimpse of his face, warm and inviting, the pale skin capturing a rosy glow. He smiles at the passing stranger, crinkles gathering at his eyes, a pleasant and nurturing aura emanating from them. As you watch, your lower lip slips away from the upper.

“Kinda attractive,” you murmur.

At that Toast’s ears prick up and he begins barking continuously. Short yips with one long howl in the middle. If only he could speak, you would love to know what all this commotion is about.

“Sshh.” You wrap your hands around your dog’s mouth, conscious that the guy on the street may hear. Toast stops making a noise instead lapping at your palm. You roll your eyes at your nonsensical dog before turning back to the street.

The guy is holding something, a short leather lead. He had a dog too. Now that really caught your interest. The dog was stocky, the opposite of the slim built guy, her short coat grey, with a hint of blue. She isn’t exactly small, but you wouldn’t call her a large dog either, about the same size as Toast. She pads along next to her owner, content to walk at the pace he sets. Her eyes often wondering up to him, where he would greet her with a smile.

“It’s got to be bullshit, dogs and owners looking alike. The only thing similar about those two is their lack of colour.”

Toast whines.

“Yeah, I know, I know, you can’t see in colour so what difference does it make. Trust me on this one, Toast. It just doesn’t make sense.”

You glance around your flat, occasional splashes of colour standing out, but now that you really look at it, it’s more neutral than you realised.

When you turn back to the window, the guy is gone. A meagre part of you sinks, which is pointless, you don’t even know him. He’s just a stranger that happened to walk past your window.

Two more men make their way down the street, past your window. One with scruffy, unkept blond hair, a beige unbuttoned trench coat and a shirt untucked from his trousers. With him was a dalmatian, pristine coat shining in the morning sun, each spot perfectly round. It was an odd pair if ever you had seen one. But they both share a chaotic look, a wildness brewing just below the surface.

Coming from the opposite direction, a man, wrinkles distorting his face, white hair so thin it was barely clinging on. He is carrying a newspaper, rolled up so it is easier to hold. A beautiful St Bernard plods at his hip, taking up half the pavement and looking inquisitively at the other dog. In his mouth, a ginormous stick, more like a branch, it’s jagged end clinking along the railings.

The men nod their heads at one another, the dogs stop briefly to have a sniff, but the bigger dog is blocked from getting any closer by his own stick.

These thoughts aren’t getting you anywhere. It was time for some fresh air.

“Time for a walk.”

Toast leaps up, careening around the room, bum stuck up in the air when he stops to check you are still coming.

“Alright, let’s go.”

You grab your coat and scarf, putting them on and shove your phone, keys and purse into your pockets. Lastly, unhooking the leash from the peg, Toast running in circles around your legs.

He was shaking so much, excitement radiating throughout his body, it was making it incredibly hard to clip the brown leather lead onto his collar. But with a little bit of persistence you manage it.

When you step outside the icy air hits you, a shiver travelling down your spine and a grunt pressed against your lips. You draw your coat closer and readjust your scarf, making sure it covers any bare skin. It hadn’t been this cold yesterday, the months were changing fast.

Pitiful whines sound next to you as Toast looks up, his eyes rounded in an attempt to get you to feel sorry for him. He fidgets on the spot, pulling his head round in the direction of the path, which happens to yank your arm too, the lead hanging from your wrist.

“Alright, alright, we’re going now.”

That made him perk up, his floppy ears lifting in the centre and his tail wagging frantically.

“Come on then.” You nod in the direction of the path.

The dog shot off, nearly ripping your arm from the socket.

He was usually eager to go for a walk, but this was a new level of enthusiasm. He was practically sprinting towards the park.

Something had clearly caught his attention, something he wants to go explore or possibly chase.

Making your way down the road, you try to keep a steady pace but that was easier said than done, when you have a dog pulling you on with all his force.

Toast is panting with his effort, little flecks of spit gathering in the corner of his mouth.

“Would you slow down, boy, you’re going to pull my arm off.” You tug on his lead attempting to pull him to heel, but to no avail. He ignores you and if anything begins to pull even harder.

People walking past are giving you odd looks, clearly wondering why you can’t keep your dog under control. In fact, you are starting to feel a little embarrassed. He has never acted out like this before. He may be nutty but is usually well behaved, especially on walks and with other people. You really aren’t sure what has got into him. You just hope he drops it soon.

Toast’s gaze has been focused solely on the gates to the park since you left the house, making a continuous beeline straight for them. If you weren’t paying closer attention, he would have dragged you right in front of a passing car.

After a few disgruntled honk, judgemental glares and a shout of “oi, get your animal under control,” you arrive at the gates. The park is the picture of autumn. Golden leaves showering the floor, some scraped into big piles by the groundskeeper, newer ones littering the path. The ground is damp and the air captures that, a fresh, earthy scent that instantly lifts your mood. Autumn is your favourite season and it isn’t hard to see why.

Lining the path through the centre of the park are whimsical lampposts, not yet alight as the sun is still out. This park is one of the reasons you chose your flat, it was beautiful.

Toast has stopped and continuously cocks his head to the side, ears pricked and alert. He is obviously waiting for something. Watching until it comes back into view.

You bring your hands together, rubbing them to generate some more warmth. It is times like this that you are extremely envious of Toast’s thick fur coat.

“Shall we keep going?” you direct towards your dog. He looks from you to the corner of the park, where a fountain stood, a gentle stream of water sprouting out the top and trailing down the sides.

“Wanna go that way?”

The lead is hanging loosely by your side and he grips it in his mouth, backing into the park.

“I’m coming, there’s no need for that.”

He let the lead drop and then trots happily in front of you, now content you are heading the way he wants.

It was mid-morning so there are a fair few people milling around. Some taking their dogs for a walk, other’s grabbing a quick cup of coffee from the cart in the centre of the park to keep them warm (it is the best coffee around after all). All of them wrapped up, layers upon layers causing them to look like puffy marshmallows.

A soft fog rolls gently along the ground, absorbing the vibrant shades of leaves. It impacts visibility enough for you to want to stay on the safe side, keeping the lead firmly clasped to Toast’s collar.

Now that you are inside and tracing the outline of the park, he has completely stopped pulling. He does seem intent on finding something, every few seconds twisting his head from side to side. You are too focused on observing all the beauty around you, like the white glow peeking through the branches as the sun shines down from above. Squirrels scurry over the grass, chasing each other’s bushy tails and twisting round the tree trunks. Leaves crunch beneath your feet whilst others blow gently in the breeze, hanging onto branches, clinging onto the last remnants of summer.

You inhale deeply, letting the crisp air fill your lungs and soothe you.

As you watch two birds soar through the sky, twittering at each other, you approach a bench. Someone is sitting on the only dry patch, knees far apart and back hunched, a phone in his hands. Toast starts tugging, trying to lead you to the side.

“Not again,” you utter, pushing forward.

Toast whimpers but eventually gives up, his head hanging lower.

It is hard for you to tell him no, his face made for seeking sympathy. But you also don’t want him learning bad habits. So for now he needs to stay close.

Halfway through your second lap of the park you notice how hard Toast is panting.

“Do you need a drink?” you ask.

At that his ears perk up.

“Alright, let’s go to Alvin’s.”

Alvin owns the coffee cart, and not only did he make the most flavoursome coffee, he also left out a water bowl, which he regularly tops up with fresh water, for any passing dogs. A nice man really, always greeting everyone with a smile.

After about thirty seconds of walking, the cart comes into view and Toast speeds up beside you. He must be really thirsty. You pick up the pace too.

Another dog was lapping from the bowl, a grey dog, who felt vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t quite place her.

Toast is really straining at the lead now, his breathes coming out hot and heavy, visible in the cool air.

“Tess,” a voice calls from the side, causing the little dog to trot away. The water bowl now free for use.

Toast looks between you and the bowl and back again, his head tilting.

“Go on, have a drink,” you encourage.

Deciding the water is what he wants he makes up the last couple of feet. He always sticks his whole face in the bowl when drinking, water splashing all over the surrounding surface. Loopy dog.

While he drinks you scan the nearby area, searching for a bench to sit down on, preferably a dry one. One with a large pile of leaves catches your eye, the leaves scraped to one side and piled almost as high as the back of the bench itself, threatening to spill over. Once Toast is finished you both wonder over to it, taking a place and leaning back, closing your eyes for a brief moment.

A pressure on your lap makes you reopen them. Two grey paws, tipped with white are perched on your thighs, two watery black eyes staring up at you.

“Hello,” you coo.

This time you recognise the dog, “are you, Tess?”

You finger the tag attached to her collar, the name printed on it.

She yips, tail wagging.

Toast comes over, worming his head in between your legs, desperate to receive attention too. To reassure him you ruffle his ears, letting him know he’s still your favourite boy.

“Where’s your owner?” you say aloud, looking around for anyone who seems like they might be the owner.

Who would leave a dog like this alone. There is a slight visual in your mind, neutral colours at the forefront, nothing tangible.

The grey dog bends down and picks up a small stick, dropping it into your lap.

“Oh, you wanna play?”

Both dogs bark enthusiastically, backing up so you can stand. But as soon as you do, they grip onto your sleeves, dragging you forward, their hind legs straining from the efforts. You fight against it but with the both of them they outmatch you and you’re soon sliding along the path, slipping on wet leaves.

You have no idea what has gotten into them, you don’t even know who this grey dog is or who she belongs to. The cold autumn weather has hardened the ground, resulting in several dips and mounds that trip you up. The last one almost gets you, barely enough time to catch yourself. But the dogs always stop for you, making sure you have your balance before they continue. Each time you hope they are finally stopping, and you’ll be able to catch your breath, but then they shoot off again, clearly not having reached their destination yet.

You’re moving so fast across the grass you don’t have a chance to look up and spot the same guy from before, with the black hoodie and inviting smile.

Tess lets go of one sleeve, making you stumble to the side, Toast right there to make sure you stay upright.

“What are you doing, silly dog?”

He parks himself firmly on the ground, your sleeve, now completely soaked with slobber still gripped tightly between his teeth. Guess you allowed yourself to relax too soon.

He glances to the side and a flash of black and grey passes your periphery. There is no time to worry about that as you focus on freeing yourself from Toast’s grip, wrestling with your dog for control and ownership of the situation.

He really had never acted this way before. You aren’t prepared for it.

Slowly but surely you are worming free, you can feel the material start to rip at the seams.

With one sharp, swift tug you are thrust to the left. “Aaarrgh.”

Your body slams directly into something sturdy, hands finding its heaving middle. A dull ache permeates from your side and for a few moments you are too dazed to focus on anything. Whilst you are trying to regain your composure you don’t notice the two sneaky dogs wrapping themselves around your legs, both their leads becoming tangled and trapping you.

“Ma’am is this your dog?”

The soft sound shakes you back to life. Pressing against you was the boy in the black hoodie, his face so uncomfortably close you could smell his breath. Not that it smells bad, is that a note of cinnamon?

“Urh,” you stutter, still not fully understanding the situation.

The guy is moving his hands around you like there is a force field preventing him from touching you. His face scrunched up, trying to figure out what boundaries he shouldn’t cross. It was kind of cute really.

A small chuckle escapes your lips.

“Oh, you think this is funny do you.” His tone is accusatory but the smile creeping onto his lips suggests otherwise. His shoulders relax, and his torso softens against you, the awkwardness diluting.

“Not funny, mildly amusing perhaps.”

He rolls his eyes and glances down. Following his gaze, taking in the two dogs who were trying to look as innocent as possible. Toast’s head is cocked to the side, one ear flopped inside out from the extreme angle. The grey dog, who you now know belongs to him, is sitting next to his leg, one paw lifted in the air, big black eyes wide and very effectively making you feel sorry for her.

“Aww, she’s so sweet,” you fuss.

“Hmm, she knows that, she’s using it against you, don’t give in.”

The guy waves his arms to swat at the little dog’s ears. The sudden movement causes the lead to restrict even more, toppling you forward. His arms instinctively wrap around your torso, balancing both of you out.

Straightening yourself back up again you look at Toast, your lips in a tight line and whisper, “Toast, this is embarrassing, why?”

The guy seems to notice your embarrassment. “It’s okay,” he offers.

He leans over to inspect the situation. “I think we should be able to undo this,” he glares at his own dog, “as long as there is no more funny business.”

She gives a little yip which Toast copies.

“Hi, by the way,” he catches your eye, tongue lightly grazing over his lips, “I’m sorry, this isn’t usually how I first talk to pretty girls.”

“Wow, that ever work for you?” you laugh.

Shrugging his shoulders, he replies, “half and half.”

You shake your head, carefully tugging at one of the leads, working out if it’s yours or his. Both of you annoyingly choosing brown leather. Running your fingers along it, you reach the handle, which is still slipped over your wrist. It’s yours then.

“I’m Y/N,” you hold out your hand the best you can, despite it being stuck in between the both of you.

“Tom.” He can only reach your fingers which he gives a little shake.

Shimmying the handle off your wrist you work to unravel them. Tom follows suit. Both the dogs begin to stir, not happy you’re about to foil their plan. It starts off as small yips but soon escalates into alternating barks.

“Guys, don’t get upset just because we have unravelled your plan.”

“Literally,” you add.

Even over the barking you can hear little grunts coming from Tom as he tries to be as delicate as possible when unlooping the lead from around your legs. In a brief moment of pause you glance at him, red splotches showing on his cheeks and droplets of morning dew concentrated on a small patch of his curls. He must have brushed past a bush or tree only moments earlier.

Just as you are starting to get wrapped up in him you feel a pressure subside from your lower half, one of the leads comes completely free.

“Oh, thank god,” you both say in unison.

Unfortunately, there is something you had yet to notice. The dogs didn’t drag you to a random spot. They brought you all the way over the fountain, where the sheets of ice have only just begun to melt.

Distracted by your premature celebrations you don’t see Toast wiggling his body, a typical sign he is ready to pounce. He barges his entire weight into you, one of your legs lifting in the air and coming down on a still tangled section of leather. The shift in balance pulls your other leg from under you. Without even a moment to think you start to tumble backwards.

A bark and a rip echo in your ears as the wind whips them. A pair of powerful arms fold round you as a body follows, lowering over you, hugging you close.

“Got you,” a strained voice says.

You are lying almost horizontal, your fingers dipping into the water. Tom is hovering above you, his face so close you can see the exact and slightly unusual curve of his nose, the way the bridge expands to the side as opposed to upwards.

A numbness begins to envelop your fingers and you draw them back, realising they are submerged.

“You okay?” concern etched on his face.

“Mhm,” you nod, pushing him away from you as you try to get back to your feet.

Toast is looking away from you, guilt written all over his face. You rub your gloveless fingers, all feeling leaking from the tips.

What did it feel like to be warm and toasty? To have actual blood circling through your fingers? It is impossible to remember. Thoughts of roaring fireplaces, bloated hot water bottles and steaming mugs of hot chocolate overcome you.

You blow into your hands, your breath coming out shaky as your teeth chatter.

“Here, let me.” Tom holds your hands, his smooth fingertip kissing your palm as he draws them to his lips. A shiver runs through you but this one has nothing to do with the cold.

Your concentration is fixed on his face, his lips pucker as an exhale of warm air fills your cupped hands. His eyes drift up to yours as he blows a second time.

“Mmm, that’s so good.” Eyes flickering from the sensation.

Now it is his turn to concentrate on you, his lips picking up at the sides whilst you bite down on your own.

Below you, Toast and Tess share smug glances. Dogs shouldn’t be able to do that. But what do they say, dogs match their owners? Maybe they know what’s best for you too.

Pulling away, Tom says, “why don’t we go get a coffee to warm your fingers?”

Your hands intertwine like tree roots, destined to support each other for all their remaining years.

tagging: @thelazypangolin @uglypastels @tomhollandthirst @mysteryavengers @h-osterfield @theprincesofasgard @underoos-shield @spiderrrling @dtftomholland @rachramblesstuff @merryspidermas @fratboievans @spacetalbot

#briannas500wc #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x read #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #tom holland headcannon #tom holland headcannons #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland au #tom holland fluff #tom holland scenario #tom holland scenarios #marvel cast imagines #101 dalmatians #disney

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bluephoenixdruidicprincess · 6 years ago

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SPN 14x20, Moriah -- Review

It's with a heavy heart that I must come to terms with the fact that this will be our last season finale, next year will be the series finale. We're about to embark on our last SPN Hellatus. It hurts so much thinking about that. But as far as a season finale goes, what an episode this was! This might be my favorite SPN season finale (and yes, I say that even with Swan Song in mind). In a season that has been very underwhelming for me, this season finale was awesome. I remember some time ago, Misha had tweeted that this season finale would be epic and I originally hadn't put too much stalk into that comment because after all, as the saying goes, "PR is not showrunning". And I remember hearing similar things about the season 13 finale and talk about how surprising it would be and it turned out to be just a so-so kind of finale and I'd predicted basically everything that was going to happen in it. But this finale was amazing. Like, it's so hard to talk about it because I honestly don't know where to start. I'm so glad that I went overboard on blacklisting tags last night because shit went down in this episode that I would've HATED to have had spoiled. Typically, I don't mind if I'm spoiled but this episode had the kind of things going on where you just have a much better experience if you don't already know for certain what's happening. But I think I've rambled in this introduction long enough. Let's get to talking about SPN 14x20, Moriah.

As always, there will be spoilers so if you haven't seen the episode, perhaps skip this. Like I said, this is not an episode you want to have spoiled for you.

I love episodes with Chuck in them. They're some of my favorite episodes. The show gets really self-aware and super meta when he's around for obvious reasons. And I love that the writers aren't afraid to go all the way with it. The digs at other writers, the digs at their own writing, it's great. Especially, the dig at writing in general. Essentially, throughout this episode we have this theme running around that Chuck is a writer and he's trying to write this perfect story and everytime he fails, he tosses it in the recycling bin and begins anew. But we have our heroes pointing out that these aren't meaningless words Chuck is simply writing down, he's messing with people's lives, what gives him the right to do that? Words have the power to change us. And when you think about it, that's what all writers do (at least in fiction but this can also happen in non-fiction, too). They manipulate their characters into fulfilling a certain type of narrative as it makes sense for the story and with little regard to how that person will feel about it. So I enjoyed that bit of self-awareness and meta put into it. When analyzing this show, we're always talking about story structure and how "insert horrible thing" has to happen for the purposes of the narrative and we have our heroes confronting Chuck about this and saying, "screw story-telling, you're putting us through the ringer so you can have a rounded story? We're done with this shit." Possibly foreshadowing for Season 15? Perhaps a different approach and bending the rules of story-telling is in Season 15's future? I'd be interested in seeing that.

We also got some truth-telling in this episode but unfortunately, the truths that needed to be told didn't get told. But I didn't really expect it to happen anyway. Hopefully, it'll happen sometime in season 15. I guess the idea behind this particular plot is that lying is necessary in order to create a peaceful environment and while that may be true, I feel like what was going on in this episode was a bad example to make a judgement on if whether or not a fully functioning society can thrive on truth-telling. Out of the blue you just suddenly had people telling the truth when they're so accustomed to be lying and to be lied at. So if you're not used to telling the truth or hearing the truth, of course it's going to throw you for a loop. It's very possible a perfectly well-functioning society can exist based on not being able to lie but the society needs to be raised in it and that's clearly not what was happening here.

Also, thank you Chuck for being stern with Dean when he broke your guitar. My heart cried when Dean destroyed that guitar. I come from a family of musically inclined leanings. We revere musical instruments as if they were living in my family. As a child, if I accidentally dropped my harmonica or flute, or I accidentally tripped over my father's grand piano while I was practicing gymnastics, you bet I was apologizing to these instruments. This show will not be complete in my eyes if Dean does not apologize to that guitar. Music is the conduit to and from our souls and I never want to see Dean treat a musical instrument with such ill-respect again. I'm sure you all think I'm joking but I'm being 100% serious. I don't joke about music.

Also, good on Sam for calling out Dean for being a nerd. I'm so happy that Sam is at a point where he feels comfortable on calling Dean out on these things. Dean needs to be called out more. After all, how can he really progress if no one's ever honest with him? And keep in mind, that's not me saying I hate Dean or anything. I don't, even with these last few episodes in mind. I'm just remarking that he has a lot of character development and progression he needs to get through in season 15. So Positive Police, you can stow your torches and pitch forks.

Have no fear, everyone. Mary is still among us. There were so many shots in that cemetery of the statue of Mother Mary that it has to be representative of the idea that Mary Winchester is watching over them. Either that, or the real Mother Mary is watching over them. And if that's the case, that would be an interesting figure to meet in the next season but I doubt we'll meet her though. For the most part, SPN tries to stay away from the specifics in religion. When they use religion, it's usually in more vague terms. But anyway, the amount of times the camera caught this statue in a scene, it truly can't be a coincidence so I'm taking it as representation that Mary is still with our heroes and watching over them which is a nice sentiment and definitely something they need on their journey of healing. I like to think that Dean noticed the statue on a subconscious level and that was in a subliminal sense speaking to him in a way.

I really liked in this episode how Cas felt like he had enough autonomy to essentially go against Dean. He was actively trying to keep Dean from killing Jack and saving Jack and before they were interrupted, Cas was even contemplating running away with Jack. Jack means that much to him that he was willing to throw away his relationship with Dean and that's real nice because for so long in this show, everything Cas does is normally attached to trying to help Dean in some way but here, this was something he specifically wanted to do for himself. His love for Jack is not linked in any way to Dean and he was willing to go against Dean to protect that love. Cas, I'm so proud of you.

And Chuck, my man. I have a lot of thoughts on everything that happened in the final act of this episode (I mean, what a final act this was!) but I'll try and be as succinct as possible. Chuck had me a little confused in this final act. I did see the bad!Chuck part coming. It's something I've always suspected since season 11. But the thing is, I'm not entirely sold on if Chuck is really the villain that he was made out to be in this final act. My reasoning? Well, when you watch that scene where Dean is contemplating shooting Jack, it's very evident that Dean is struggling with it but when he decides not to, he drops his arm holding the gun and we cut to Chuck who gives this very brief half-smile, almost like he was holding his breath and exhaling in relief when he saw Dean put the gun down. Why would Chuck do that if his goal was to get Dean to kill Jack for his story? And then he completely flips when Dean throws down the gun. Again, why? Why didn't he do that when Dean dropped his arm? It was very apparent from the time Dean let his arm fall that he wasn't going to shoot Jack so why would Chuck give that smile, wait for Dean to drop the gun and then lose his shit? My thought is that he wanted Dean to not shoot Jack and everything else that came after was just dressing his story for the next act in the Winchester Gospels. Perhaps Chuck is organizing his own death. Perhaps his real aim in all of this is by them taking on The End, possibly even killing Chuck, he can finally prove to our heroes that they don't need him anymore. And what also got me is that he claims that it's now The End and I'm just asking myself, "why?" From the other worlds we've seen, it doesn't look like he did it to these other worlds. He just kind of left them in the dumpster to do whatever they want.

Or perhaps Chuck really is doing everything for the sake of the story he's trying to write and the polar opposite mannerism I described earlier was just a delayed response in Chuck not quite realizing at the time that Dean really wasn't going to do it. And if Chuck really is writing off this world as another failed draft, perhaps this is a lesson he's going to learn in season 15 where sometimes your rough drafts are the best stories ever written. I also receive a kind of perverse enjoyment in this idea of Chuck doing everything he's doing for the sake of the story and ironically to create this wonderful story he wants, he created characters that almost certainly would go against him. He created characters that view their connections to others more important than anything else so why is he so surprised that when it came to killing one of their own, they couldn't do it? When has TFW ever been successful in simply letting the other members go?

And the ending with all the souls being released? I loved that the first soul we saw was Constance from the Pilot. Basically saying, "This is The End" by having the case that started it all be the first one to pop back up. I also thought it was interesting that Constance is a Woman in White and we literally just had a movie come out about this particular lore. It's probably not connected but I thought it was interesting, regardless. And Bloody Mary showing up? AKA my favorite MotW episode from season 1? Sign me up for Bloody Mary Part 2. I can't wait to see that.

I noticed that there was also kind of a smile on Jack's corpse-face. A very maniacal kind of smile that reminded me of the Empty. So I'm interested in seeing what that's leading into. Also, Billie and the Empty. What's going on with them? I'm excited to find out.

And this season keeps on continuing its trend with unreliable narrators and it's lovely to see. If anything, I love that this season has really been honing in on the idea that because you may ally with someone, it doesn't necessarily mean that they're your friend or that they don't have their own goals and objectives.

Like I said before, I haven't exactly been this season's #1 fan. And that's not because I dont understand what this season has been trying to do with it's story-telling, I completely understand what it was trying to do. To me, it just had a tendency to miss its mark more often than not and it was doing a lot of things I personally didn't care about. While the season not being terrible but nor has it felt like it's anything really note-worthy, either. This is probably the season I'll re-watch the least. But despite the season's underwhelming nature, they really brought in a fantastic season finale. When I do re-watch this season, this episode is probably what I'll re-watch the most. Structurally, the episode dragged a little but content wise? It was amazing. I give this episode an A-.

Hopefully, my ramblings made some sense. I had so much to say but yet was having a really difficult time on figuring out how I wanted to articulate it. I can only hope I pulled it off. Tagging @metafest in case anyone there would like to weigh in.

And with the SPN season done, Shadowhunters soon to be done, I'm finally going to be able to catch up on my To Watch list that my lovely followers have been sending recommendations for. So definitely during this hellatus (our last one 😭) the bingeing will be in full effect for The Orville, The Magicians, Gravity Falls, AHS, etc. I haven't forgotten you all.

#spn 14.20 #spn 14x20 #spn spoilers

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weecb1983 · 6 years ago

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Such a parcel of rogues in a nation…

O would, or I had seen the day

That treason thus could sell us,

My auld gray head had lien in clay,

Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace!

But pith and power, till my last hour,

I'll mak' this declaration;

We're bought and sold for English gold -

Such a parcel of rogues in a nation.

Interpretation of poetry has never been my strong point, but I’d hazard a guess that The Bard was pretty pissed off when he wrote these words. More than 200 years later, I have to wonder – are we still a “parcel of rogues in a nation”?

I started off 2019 with two resolutions:

1. Don’t worry about things until they happen

2. Stop tweeting

I lasted until the 2nd of January before I came across a tweet from the Scotsman…”End indyref2 talk in 2019, campaigners TELL @NicolaSturgeon” and felt compelled to retweet with a sarcastic comment and a bemused emoji. Fast forward a few hours and I’m awake at 3am, anxious about the state of the country and a Brexit that hasn’t happened yet.

Earlier in the year, to relieve my anxiety, the “other half” begrudgingly agreed to me stockpiling food. So I set about compiling a “Brexit Cupboard” filled with pasta, rice and other staples from the continent such as olive oil and sundried tomatoes that may be hard to come by in the even a no-deal Brexit scenario. I received a lot of stick for this from friends and family, who suggested that I was catastrophising and perhaps I had too much time on my hands, being on maternity leave at the time. It was time I went back to work.

Brexit cupboard ready to go, I still find myself awake at stupid o’clock in the morning, so in another attempt to get a decent night’s sleep I thought I’d try to take the thoughts that are troubling me and put them down on paper….

Back in 2014 when Scotland voted No, I was heartbroken but I understood and accepted the result. I don’t blame my friends and family who voted No (openly). Initially, my gut reaction was No. It was a risk, but I decided that since it was such a serious decision, I should partake in some research. I had never been interested in politics before and, prior to 2013, wasn’t even registered to vote. Coming from a predominantly socialist family, I was conscious that my vote should be an informed decision and not based on what those around me thought. The more I read, the more convinced I was that Scotland should be independent, and the more incensed I became that we weren’t already.

I joined Twitter, entered into discussion with “Unionists”, asking questions and looking for a reason as to why Scotland should remain as part of the UK. I am still looking. For one single reason. Instead I have received nothing but condescending replies, questioning my intelligence and level of education, or lack thereof. One lovely chap asking, “not very bright are you?”. Regarding the ever divisive topic of Scottish Independence, polite discourse quickly descends into “sharing and pooling” and “fiscal transfer” and “go away, you don’t understand”. I’ve tried with GERS. I really have, and I don’t think it’s that GERS figures are beyond the comprehension of the average “cybernat”. Just that they are far too dull to hold the attention of all but the most dogged “Britnat”, who would rather see Scotland burn to the ground than be independent (they might get their wish come April). They wait eagerly for “GERS-figures day” every year and, like a dog with a bone, rip them to shreds and shout “See! They are your own government’s figures and they show that Scotland is too wee, too poor! Get back in your box”. From what I can understand, these figures are based on Scotland being part of the so-called “United” Kingdom and can’t be used to predict what an independent Scotland would look like so I really don’t see what all the hoo-hah is about to be honest.

Sometimes I think, in an alternative universe, where Scotland voted Yes four years ago, what would my unionist friends and family think if the country was in the state that it is now? I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t be biting their tongue, going by the continuous loop of “SNP-bad” rhetoric that still prevails, despite none of this current shit-show being of their doing.

Looking at the state of affairs, it is extremely disturbing to see what people will accept nowadays. If you had told me four years ago that the UK would be stockpiling food and medicine, preparing the army for civil unrest and that Schrödinger’s drones would cause Gatwick airport to grind to a halt, I would have said, no one in their right mind would vote for that….but then again, they didn’t put that on the big red bus.

Credit where it’s due to the Westminster establishment, they have been extremely clever in this respect. Of course it would never have worked to put “Vote for martial law” on the bus! Instead, over two years they have, little by little, gone from “£350 million for the NHS!” to “a no-deal scenario wouldn’t be the end of the world” with Westminster’s very own resident hobbit Michael Gove kindly suggesting that we allow people to scavenge on rubbish heaps. Even better, it will give us a chance to go back to the good old days of the Blitz when everyone pulled together. To anyone who says that, I say, get yourself down a trench during the Battle of the Somme in 1916. I visited the WW1 battlefields in 2015 after 97 years of peace, and it was traumatising enough.

To anyone who is (even now!) unsure about whether Brexit is all bad, I simply say, look at who supports it…for the love of God! Imagine, stumbling across a party and looking around to see Boris Johnson, Hobbit Gove, Nigel Farage, Andrea Leadsom, Dominic Raab, Priti Patel, John Redwood, Vladimir Putin and last but by no means least, the smiling assassin, Jacob Rees-Mogg and his fellow Dickensian panto-villain Julia Hartley-Brewer (never trust anyone with a double-barrelled surname). I would be turning on my heel and getting out of that place before they started burning £50 notes (or as it will be known post-brexit…$5,000,000).

I happen to think Theresa May herself would also be at that party. I am not for a minute buying that she was ever a Remainer. I reckon her husband (senior executive at an investment fund that profits from tax-avoiding companies) would stand to lose a pretty penny from the EU’s Anti Tax Avoidance Directive which was presented on 28th January 2016 (!) and requires its member states to apply these measures as of 1st January 2019…3 months before the Brexit deadline. Coincidence? No deal has always been the end goal and who better to run down the clock than the cringe-worthy curtseying Theresa May who campaigned so emphatically for Remain? Theresa May, who is trying to broker a deal that is best for the WHOLE country and one that supports the democratic vote…the last democratic vote you’ll ever have, by the way. Because now democracy means that when you voted once, based on an illegal campaign that no-one has been held accountable for, you are no longer entitled to change your mind because that is what democracy means now. Is Theresa May the Keyser Söze of Westminster? Albeit her daft walk at the end is to the tune of Abba? Is she that clever and forward-thinking to have orchestrated this whole clusterbourach?

No, she is merely a puppet and her strings are being pulled by disaster capitalists who know exactly what they are doing. They will have prepared for every eventuality.

Panto villain Mogg has been popping his polite, well-spoken, over-privileged and under-achieving head up recently to air his views whenever he can on the main-stream media. I noted that he voiced his support of the late Margaret Thatcher featuring on the new £50 note. Margaret Thatcher, who was a known admirer of General Pinochet.

This is a quote from Naomi Klein’s book, The Shock Doctrine:

“The British prime minister was well acquainted with what she called “the remarkable success of the Chilean economy”, describing it as a “striking example of economic reform from which we can learn many lessons”. Yet despite her admiration for Pinochet, when Hayek first suggested that she emulate his shock therapy policies, Thatcher was far from convinced. In February 1982, the prime minister bluntly explained the problem in a private letter to her intellectual guru. “I am sure you will agree that, in Britain with our democratic institutions and the need for a high degree of consent, some of the measures adopted in Chile are quite unacceptable. Our reform must be in line with our traditions and our Constitution. At times the process may seem painfully slow.”

I wonder if 30 odd years is slow enough and I think by “quite unacceptable”, she means this…

https://www.independent.co.uk/news/the-pinochet-affair-i-saw-them-herded-to-their-death-i-heard-the-gunfire-as-they-died-1179543.html

Make no mistake, this is a right-wing coup. It’s just that it’s being carried out in an orderly fashion – the British way.

No one wants to talk about Brexit anymore. The majority of the people in my life are completely ignorant about the consequences of a no-deal scenario, blissfully so, and encourage me to join them. The apathy shown towards the biggest political disaster to happen to this country in living memory is beyond my comprehension. So half the country is sleepwalking and half have just about reached Brexit saturation point and all the time we are being nudged, slowly towards the edge of the cliff. ….and when we’re pushed over the edge, there will be Sajid Javid waiting on an armed boat shouting “CRISIS! - NO MIGRANTS ALLOWED!”. The neoliberals stand to make a tidy profit while the country is reeling from the chaos that would inevitably ensue from a No-deal. We can look forward to the swift privatisation of our Health Service, abolition of the welfare state, chlorinated chicken, etc.

In 2014, Scottish independence was about hope and the ability to control our own affairs. Now, it’s about the survival of our democracy. If Scotland is not independent come March 29th 2019, I predict that, freed from the burden of EU laws, Westminster will adopt Henry VIII powers to abolish the devolved parliaments. It has already shown what it is capable of, and its contempt of the Scottish parliament, by taking them to court over the Continuity Bill. Scotland has barely been mentioned throughout the Brexit “negotiations” and has been disregarded and disrespected at every turn. We are absolutely not, as was promised, “Better Together”. Independence is the only option now and I, for one, hope to begin 2020 as part of an independent Scotland with my human rights still intact.

However, if anyone is reading this in a post-Brexit version of “The Handmaid’s Tale”….nothing to see here! All left-wing views out the window. God save the Queen.

#Brexit IndyRef2 StopBrexit

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goodnewsjamaica · 6 years ago

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A conversation with John Barnes, Part Two: His Anfield culture shock and learning the ‘Liverpool Way’

New Post has been published on https://goodnewsjamaica.com/world-view/a-conversation-with-john-barnes-part-two-his-anfield-culture-shock-and-learning-the-liverpool-way/

A conversation with John Barnes, Part Two: His Anfield culture shock and learning the ‘Liverpool Way’

In 1987, Liverpool Football Club were beginning yet another rebuild. They had won a league and FA Cup double in 1986, but the 1986/87 season ended in disappointment.

Liverpool finished runners up to Everton in the league and were beaten by Arsenalin the League Cup final. It was a rare trophy-less season compounded by the impending loss of Ian Rush.

Rush and Kenny Dalglish had formed one of the deadliest partnership in football throughout the ’80s. However, in 1987 Kenny had completed his transition to the manager’s position, hanging up his boots in the process.

Rush had departed for Juventus. The King would have to refashion his empire.

In a rare move for Liverpool, who had built their success on adding one or two players every couple of years to a team of all-stars, Dalglish signed four new attacking players in one season.

Those men were John Aldridge, Ray Houghton, Peter Beardsley and, of course, John Barnes.

They would click instantly and become the rocket fuel that propelled perhaps the most flamboyant and mesmeric Liverpool team of all time.

Leaving Watford

So far in our conversation we’ve covered Barnes’ formative years and his rise to prominence at Vicarage Road. Now it’s time to turn our attentions to his move to Anfield. Barnes picks up the story:

“Liverpool came in for me in the January, but [Watford manager] Graham Taylor called me into his office and told me I would be joining them in the summer.”

I ask Barnes about claims, in Alex Ferguson’s autobiography, that Dave Bassett, who succeeded Taylor at the end of the 1986/87 season, had offered the United manager the chance to sign him and that he had declined the opportunity.

Ferguson is said to have rued his decision, given it had extended Liverpool’s dominance of English football for a few more years.

Barnes is dismissive of the idea that joining United was ever a possibility.

“I’d already signed for Liverpool before Bassett took over,” he said. “I never played under Bassett. I don’t know. He might have said to Alex Ferguson, ‘do you want to sign John Barnes?’ But it was already arranged for me to go to Liverpool.

“I only met Dave Bassett once. I was going to Liverpool in two weeks. He invited me to his house to say good luck. He never mentioned Manchester United. It would never have happened.”

Liverpool and Watford had agreed a fee of £900,000. That was clearly a huge sum of money in 1987. Although, it was short of the transfer record at that time. I point out that, given Trevor Francis had become the first £1 million player in 1979, the Reds had got themselves a bargain.

“Yes, but what you have to realise that Peter Beardsley signed shortly after me for £1.6 million, which was the biggest transfer fee ever. Trevor Francis went for £1 million in 1979 but nobody had paid more than that since. It’s more the case that the Francis deal in ’79 was exceptional.”

Nevertheless the idea of snapping up a player of Barnes’ calibre for under £1 million is remarkable. The subject of his value is discussed in the film, Poetry in Motion.

Former England team-mate Viv Anderson muses on what a player like Barnes would fetch in the current market.

Given the benchmark set by the Paul Pogba transfer, he suggests, the bidding for John Barnes would have to start at £100 million.

A Northern Culture Shock

So, the next stage of his career beckoned and a move north had been sealed. I suggest that despite having spent his life in Jamaica and the south of England, he would surely have known all about the history and qualities of his new club.

However, I was interested to know what his thoughts and perceptions of Liverpool the city were ahead of the move.

“None whatsoever. Playing for Watford you’d travel to away games on the Friday and come back on the Saturday night.

“In the south they have perceptions about the north. They talk about flat caps and outside toilets, so you do have that misconception. It’s kind of like when you talk about racism and what you’re told about other people.

“You know you talk about the north-south divide and down south they have this superior attitude towards northerners. In many ways they probably still do. But, obviously understanding how discrimination works, I never believed any of that.

“The thing is, I knew a lot of northern footballers. For me they were probably more lively than the southerners, always laughing and joking. So I was looking forward to it.”

Nevertheless, the player was in for a culture shock of sorts when he arrived at Anfield. In the film he describes the simplicity of the Liverpool way, which had remained largely unchanged since the days of Bill Shankly.

I put it to him that the routine at Melwood must have seemed overly simplistic compared to his time under Graham Taylor. Barnes goes further, stating:

“Yes simple and, as far as I was concerned at the time, backwards I must admit. At Watford we had psychologists, nutritionists and top-notch methods. At Liverpool they were just playing five-a-side football.

“But after a while, you get to learn Bill Shankly’s way, that he got into the training, was much more forward-thinking and much more advanced than any other team. But at the time, to me, it seemed disorganised.”

I mention that I’d also heard other former players describing how often the advice from the Boot Room, whenever a game was going badly, would be simply, ‘sort it out’. Barnes agrees.

“Yes. Work it out for yourselves. Liverpool always signed players that they knew over a period of time had the intelligence to play football. Yes you had to have ability, but you had to understand the game.”

How Barnes Was Made For Liverpool

Barnes clearly fitted the bill. This is a theme repeated throughout the film, with many of Barnes’ former team-mates and coaches attesting to his ‘footballing brain’. It was a key factor in enabling him to reinvent himself as a central midfielder as his blistering pace began to fade.

“Nowadays they sign players after six good games. I played at Watford for six years and four years for England. Liverpool always had senior players who could help the younger players, who in turn would become experienced.”

It was a formula that served the Reds well for decades, as they built one great team after another. They’d simply top up the talent pool every couple of seasons.

But, what was so special about the coaching, the tactics?

“What happens as a coach is that you train and prepare and you come up with tactics. Unfortunately, football doesn’t work like that. It’s fine, all well and good, until you start the game and the opposition do something you didn’t think they would, and the tactics aren’t working.

“What do you do? Are you going to wait until half-time, for the manager to do it, or, do you look to the bench and say ‘what do we do? We weren’t told about this’?

“At Liverpool the coaches would say to you, ‘I’m not telling you what to do. Work it out for yourself’. And what that does, what helps you to do that, is the experience you have.

“That was a culture shock, because Graham Taylor, for 90 minutes, told us exactly what to do. So what I didn’t know was that in six years Liverpool had seen in me that I was able to translate that into what Liverpool wanted me to play.

“So, Liverpool saw things in players that you didn’t know you had yourself.

“I never thought I was a Liverpool player. Watford played a long-ball game. Liverpool were completely different, but they saw something in me.”

So, was this part of a deliberate philosophy by Liverpool? Did they simply recruit intelligent footballers, who could fit into their methodology and way of coaching? Is that the secret that lay behind their dominance over almost three decades?

“Oh, Liverpool picked players who couldn’t do that. But, then they didn’t last. It wasn’t as if Liverpool always picked the right players all the time.

“If you couldn’t do it, you’d be quickly found out and you’d be got rid of, or you wouldn’t be in the team.”

Here, Barnes gives a fascinating and revealing insight into the secrets behind Liverpool’s unparalleled success.

The philosophy that drove the club to domestic and European glory was built on the pillars of football intelligence, understanding the simplicity of the game and a ruthless streak that ensured only the very best were fit to wear the shirt.

In the 1987/88 season, Liverpool and Barnes proved themselves to be the very best in land. They would sweep all before them and play majestic football.

By: Jeff Goulding

Original Article Found Here

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#FOOTBALL #Jamaica #John Barnes #liverpool

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finsterhund · 4 years ago

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Exhaustion and updates

Hoping it's just an issue on twitch's end or the ISP but my test stream had the occasional drop of frames and freezing for half a second. No issues to me but it was present in the VOD.

Really hoping that's not a thing that is going to occur commonly.

Might want to see about getting better upload speed.

But yeah. Expect an update on my computer soon. I've been very busy and very sore and tired from doing errands, setting up my computer (it's a heavy boy) and tons of stuff. Laundry tomorrow and I'm still sore from all the lifting and running around so I'll be out of it for a while still.

I'll be posting photos and stuff. I'm very proud.

I was and still am so anxious about my computer being okay. I'm paranoid about that sorta stuff. There were some hiccups and troubleshooting and I'm sad I didn't get the no CD patch of Heart of Darkness working on it, but it is happy and healthy now.

Spot from my friend arrived too. The black fur on the back is damaged somehow which means not as soft and also shedding. Upsets me a lot but maybe that's a reason to get this Spot a service dog vest.

Also not big enough to be the proposed "giant Spot" but large enough to take on trips and stuff. Good for hugs. So good for hugs. Second favourite Spot after the OG Cuddle Clone Spot.

My computer is a handsome machine. So many lights and fans. Graphics card has lights and fans, heatsink has lights and fan, etc.

Also my friend finally gave me his old monitor officially for real this time. Because I bought it off him. So I actually have space on my desk.

I also fixed my chair. It's still loud and squeaky and broken but at least the back stays up again.

Expect some crisp HoD footage soon. Planning a high resolution death scene video. It's a long time coming.

Also planning to use the absolute beast of a computer to get back into Minecraft and start playing Among Us with friends. I can't tell health wise if I'll be able to finally get into 3D modeling but perhaps. Especially if I can get a new chair or start physiotherapy.

I discovered a way that twitter is broken. If you report tweets for abuse towards you/targeted harassment and twitter decides that the tweets were abuse and against the rules but doesn't think that justifies terminating the entire account, the person who made those tweets is told specifically which ones they were and has their account locked until they manually delete them.

In case you're wondering, yes, that does absolutely inspire them to immediately go right back to targeting the person who got them a slap on the wrist.

Like, if twitter just temporarily banned them and deleted the tweets without explaining which ones they were that would be fine, but not temp banning them and just locking their accounts until they delete the offending tweets literally does nothing except open up the person harassed to more harassment.

Nobody who gets away with harassment and keeps their account is gonna say "uh oh, twitter shook its finger at me I better leave this guy alone."

No wonder the site is so toxic. Not even Tumblr moderation was this horrendous.

Back to positives, I'm hoping once I'm no longer physically and mentally exhausted to start drawing some more again. Maybe with my chair fixed it'll be easier.

A Paper Beast unfolded edition stream is on the horizon, as are HoD speedrunning practice streams. That'll be a good way to iron out whatever weird freezing thing happens.

Now that I no longer am putting away money for my computer I hope to get back to commissioning art. I've sorta lost the drive for it due to my physical and emotional health.

I'm hoping to be more active with friends in the coming months, even though seasonal depression has already started to punch me in the gut.

They already have christmas stuff out. Walmart didn't even have halloween stuff this year they just went straight to christmas. All I can think about when reminded of the holiday is how it's the reason my last dog is dead. I have absolutely no reason to get into any sort of festivities this year and I am dreading how the corporate world is going to smother me with it in a way that is unavoidable.

Don't think I'm even going to celebrate the Winter Solstice this year. It just feels wrong.

Friends are already talking about doing their shopping and getting gifts and I'm walking past the isles in the stores and it just hurts. Just wish this year could just be fall and then spring. No winter.

I know this year is tough for everyone so I don't want to ruin whatever comfort my friends may be getting from the holiday, but it's a painful reminder to me and I was already avoidant of christmas on account of celebrating the Solstice instead. Before I could celebrate christmas with friends who did and had my own fun surrounding it but now all I can think about is how the last light of my life died of a preventable respiratory infection because the emergency vet office was closed. I'm the one who should have died of respiratory issues. That's what I'm predisposed to. Not her. It's one of the most horrific ways to die and I'd only ever wish it on my worst enemies. How many times have I scraped by from viral pneumonia and everything else and when my Zippy gets kennel cough for no fucking reason they just fucking kill her without telling me.

The thing is, the Spot photos are from Christmas so I wish I could just associate it with Spot instead but no.

I meant for this post to be positive primarily but in writing this out I think I've pinpointed why the seasonal depression is so hard on me right now.

My friend and I are going to be watching horror movies in costume on Halloween eating candy so I'm looking forward to that.

A green apple scented Spot is also coming from Lilsprout (same person who made Penumbra) so that's something good to look forward to as well.

I may try weighting and scenting my new Spot who I'm planning to get a service dog vest for. Also if anyone knows how to fix heat damaged fake fur fabric please let me know.

I just wish I could ignore christmas. It's such an alienating and depressing holiday if your loved ones are dead and you feel alone and hopeless.

I've started taking melatonin and it is really helping me sleep. Apparently it causes very lucid dreams. The first night I took it I had a lucid dream that was like I was awake but not. Briefly the new Spot lying beside me shifted into being Zippy (her specifically, not Spot) and I felt such a profound comfort as if she had visited me. I feel that's what Red Spot originally felt like when I was little, thinking this imaginary dog was Spot visiting me.

Was sad when I finally woke up though. Tried to do the thing where I stayed in the dream but my back pain got too bad and I had to get up.

Once I've done the laundry tomorrow and had some time to rest I'm sure I'll be more active online again. I hope. Will is streaming the Seventh Brother on the 30th so a bunch of friends are finally going to see the movie that the tired and weak crying puppy is from.

I don't really have any tasks out of my house to do right now except maybe some more groceries in a couple weeks. Of course my desire to go to thrift stores is ever present. I help buy gas so I should get to go lmao.

Think I'll listen to upbeat music now and then take my medicine. Hopefully less serious updates in the future soon.

For now my test stream is still available in VOD form on my twitch http://www.twitch.tv/finsterhund and I'm planning to upload it to YouTube later.

Take care of yourselves, and if you see stuffed dogs I'm your travels that look like Spot... I am interested. 👀

#text post #negative #long post #update

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santanuborgohain · 4 years ago

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Oh-ffice!

Episode: 1

For Dikshit it had been quite a habit for a while now. It was already half past three in the morning and the insomnia was still onto it’s play. He kept tossing around on the couch putting an effort to sleep but everything went in vain. After twenty minutes of struggle he got up and sat clumsily stretching his legs on the coffee table. Unwittingly he turned on the TV, put it on mute and stormed off to the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee for him.

He switched to his favorite Pink Floyd track and sat back on the couch again in his living cum bedroom. There was no catching up to do other than checking Donald Trump’s latest tweets, innovative features on Tesla’s Model 3, random updates on last La Liga match and so on. The coffee was good. He sniffed the steam and sipped slowly while scrolling down his Twitter feed.

Eventually he ended up stumbling across Alankrita’s Instagram profile. She had already removed their pictures: the stunning sunsets, weekend-coffee dates, throwback images of their Goa trip with ‘love you to the moon and back’ and other cheesy captions—all of them! He did not feel bad though. Indeed, he barely felt anything these days. By now, he had got an intense urge to have another cup of strong black coffee. But soon he resisted the urge realising he had enough caffeine for the day. Another Sunday successfully wasted, he thought. Wait! Did he say Sunday? His mind started boggling for a while. Technically, it was Monday-morning and already five. Damn it! He turned off the TV, kept his phone aside and laid down on the couch expecting somehow to get at least, well, a nap. Deep down he did not want to go to the office for the day. But he knew he had to. Paying bills is the biggest motivation to work after all!

At nine in the morning he reluctantly took a lazy shower. Dropping the idea of having breakfast was pretty obvious as he was already running late. It took him another half an hour to get ready, book a cab and set off for the day asking the driver to pace up. His phone buzzed. He squinted on the screen with his groggy eyes and witnessed there were already two missed calls from Ayush but didn’t bother to call him back. He reached office on time and walked up to the elevator but soon got disappointed having spotted the board stating that it was under maintenance. He took the stairs and made his entire way to 4th floor. To make it worse, he ended up realizing that he was really having a bad day when the access card did not work. He tried for the third time. Access denied: it kept getting reflected.

“Can I help you?” said a voice behind his shoulder. He turned back and saw Kavya standing right behind him, possibly being a silent spectator, watching him struggling with the access card.

“Hey!” he greeted her with a prodigious smile. Dull moments are always history whenever he encounters her. Even the most boring moment gets enliven with her mere presence. For a moment he forgot all his worries.

“Let me try.” she grabbed the card from him.

“It, uh, doesn’t work sometimes.” he said scratching his forehead, trying so hard not to sound irate.

“That’s okay.” she casually observed both the faces of the card, “here we go.” then swiped the card and it did work at the very first go.

“Well, sometimes, it works as well.” he said apologetically. She said nothing but smirked and passed by through the corridor making a harmonic sound by tapping her stiletto heels against the floor.

He walked up to his cubicle and pulled up his work station. Your password has been expired. Please update your new password now. A pop up window appeared on the screen. Damn!

“Hey Dik..Dik..Dikshit” Rabish stood up from his seat and leaned towards him, “bhai, round table conference” he said in code words about the board meeting which they needed to attend in no time, followed by an HR session. Out of all his colleague Rabish seemed to be an absolute nuisance to him not only because he used to bring all the awry updates to one’s table but also his dreadful stammer made his not-so-filthy name sound like a dick and shit. “After you.” he made a gesture with his arm. Both of them proceeded towards the conference room.

Inside the conference room, he felt like dozing off on his chair watching the pie-chart on the projector screen. It was basically about appreciation for the last month’s turn over and discussion regarding the increments respectively. He wondered even Calculus was less boring, back in school, than one might think, if it’s compared with the first meeting of the session with David, his assistant manager. Nothing was interesting about him apart from the Black Jaguar F-Type which he drove.

“Shout out to my most competent team.” David seemed to speak more like a motivational speaker in a leadership funnel. “Give yourself a big round or applause! All of you!” he announced and everyone around started clapping which woke Dikshit up from his siesta.

“Dikshit, are you okay?” asked David.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” he said as composed as he could sound.

“All right.” he nodded and continued. “So as we were saying— ”

The meeting went for another twenty minutes and once it was over he badly needed a cup of strong black coffee. He occupied back his seat and updated the password watching Kavya attentively working on her desktop. Her dark brown eyes were constantly staring on the screen without even a single blink and her lips were poised between a suppressive smile and silence. It occurred to him that time stood still, and the soul of the world surged within him. But then—

“Hi Dikshit!” Ananya flushed a wide smile standing next to him. She had recently rebonded her hair and was curious whether if Dikshit noticed the change.

“Hey, what’s up?” he flashing his eyebrows.

“I’m good. How’s your weekend?”

“Not bad.” he briefed. She noticed the dark circle beneath his eyes but didn’t felt like bothering him asking if he had a good sleep last night.

“Listen..” she faltered. “I was wondering.. if, uh, we can go out for coffee this evening after work or..” she faltered again “..or may be how about this weekend?”

“That’s really a good idea…” he emphasized.

“Great!”

“But you know what, I gave it up completely you know. Really sorry.” he winched, pretending apologetic.

“You gave up coffee, I mean, seriously?” her eyes flung open in disbelief. More or less, she quite knew his obsessive interest on coffee.

“Yes. That’s unfortunate,” he shrugged. “my doctor’s been warning me since ages and now he’s clearly instructed me to avoid it. Gents problem you know.” he knew how bad he was at cooking stories, but still he tried pondered whether if that made any sense. Her face dropped.

“We can still go for Karim Chacha’s chai though. Shall we?” it was pretty obvious she would refuse to ‘tapri ka chai’ on a crowded footpath right next to their office. Offer them a worse option rather than clearly saying no, that’s what he learnt in his management lessons.

“Let’s see.” she said deadpanned and excused herself.

He quickly finished quarter of his work and whizzed off hunting for Ayush in a different bay.

“Why aren’t you picking up my call, asshole?” Ayush saw him from a distance.

“Bhenchod, isn’t that you who’s pinching that naive girl over and again after me?” he probed.

“Who are you talking about, Ananya?” Ayush laughed out loud. “She likes you bro. It’s an open secret.”

“That’s not the answer to my question. Is it?”

“I was just trying to help you.” he giggled. “On top of that, you need to move on man.”

“Screw you man. Don’t talk like aunties now.” Nobody screws Ayush. Nobody dares to do so. He’s tech-savvy. A Google intern. If anyone messes with him, he messes with his firewall. He used to live, eat, sleep and poo in dark web for most of his time.

“Look at those dark circles, again, aren’t you sleeping well again?”

“No, it’s just—”

“Just what?”

“Nothing. Just leave it! I just need to have—”

“Sex?”

“No, not at the moment. Perhaps, a cigarette will do for me now.”

“Even I think so. C’mon.”

They went to the smoking zone on a short break. That’t what they usually do—exhale the frustration, inhaling a bit of hope and whole lot of courage in each drag of puff ever since they joined this IT firm after getting their H-1B VISA repeatedly rejected. Friends who smoke together, die together —it was quoted on the wall. Ayush told him about some jugaad he’s working on to shift to Toronto later this year and asked him if he was interested. Dikshit replied in negative dragging in a very long puff and left.

Prior to lunch break He had summed up almost half of his work. Kavya was still working as attentively as before. Her work ethic and the elegance was a loud resonance to each other. The moment he thought, she stood up and came towards him.

“Hey, what are you having for lunch today?” she asked. That was quite unusual.

“Huh? Um, actually I didn’t even have breakfast today.” He did not intend to say that but it came out spontaneously.

“Oh my god. Seriously?” she said she had brought some home-cooked delicacy and asked him have it with her.

“I’m starving already.” he said even though he was not hungry at all.

They walked up to the Cafeteria. He ordered one ice latte and one espresso for him from Costa coffee. She offered him a dish of Shahi paneer. It was not the food but mostly the company that exited him much. The coffee was ready and his token number was displayed on the monitor. He went to fetched the coffee settling the bill. The moment he rushed back to his seat, he rammed with someone and the cold coffee flushed out of the cup. “I’m so sorry.” he yelled.

“What the f—”. Ananya yelled back did not even knowing it was him. Half of the people inside the cafeteria turned around. Her white tank top was painted with froth and coffee.

“I’m extremely sorry.” He wished he could disappear.

“No, that’s…that’s—” she faltered with irritation and anger.

“I can clean it. Let me bring some tissue.”

“No, that’s fine.” she said even though it was not.

“I’m sorry, I can clean it wait.” he insisted.

“I said that’s fine. Just leave it!.”

“Well, actually I do have cold coffee only. That’s why I—” he said as awkwardly as shit not sure of knowing what should he do or say.

“Whatever!” she said, clearly climbing the Mount Everest of irritation, and shoved off from the cafeteria. He wished he could undo the whole event. Rabish passed by towards the billing counter and saw him standing there. “What happened Dik…Dik…Shit, a..any problem?” he said. For the first he didn’t get annoyed by Rabish’s stutter for spoiling his not-so-filthy name, making it sound like a bin full of trash. Indeed, he felt completely otherwise.

“Nothing.” he responded unmindfully, feeling like a dick and full of shit.

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myhahnestopinion · 7 years ago

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THE AARONS 2017 - Worst Film

A funny phenomenon overcame me this year, as, in my pursuit to watch as many new releases as possible, I found myself much more eager to watch the films I expected to be horrendous than those I felt would be quality. Well, like they say, and by “they” I mean one of the films you will find on this list, be careful what you wish for. And so, I ended up watching a lot of dreadful films this year. Here are The Aarons for Worst Film:

#10. Leatherface

While The Last Jedi and The Fate of the Furious showed this year that eighth installments in franchises can still feel fresh, Leatherface brought the Texas Chainsaw Massacre series sputtering to that ordinal in the laziest of fashion: the unnecessary prequel. Even wonder what Leatherface was like as an orphaned child who embarks on a road trip with a group of other unlikeable, thinly-written inmates? No? Like most people, you understand that the whole point of having a character who wears other people’s faces for a mask is the element of mystery? Oh. Well, don’t worry! This fundamentally flawed entry will probably get completely retconned by the next inevitable installment.

#9. Wish Upon

If I had a magical music box that granted me seven wishes, I wouldn’t waste one trying to figure out why the main character in Wish Upon continues to use all her wishes after learning a person dies every time, why she uses one of those wishes to make her dad hotter, why the film’s attempted Final Destination-style kills rely on a woman nonchalantly sticking her braided hair down a garbage disposal, or why the film casts two Korean-American actors to be its experts on Chinese culture. The answer is because the filmmakers were simply incompetent.

#8. The Book of Henry

The Book of Henry is the charming little story of a precocious child named Henry who navigates school with his younger brother, while being raised by a single mother, and crushing on his next-door neighbor. It’s also about 11-year old Henry romantically kissing his mom’s alcoholic friend on the lips while on his death bed, adults unconcerned by obvious conflicts-of-interest but persuaded by the power of interpretive dance, and, oh yeah, it’s about Henry’s elaborate, yet never detailed, plan to convince his mother to murder their abusive neighbor in cold blood and get away with it. If you’re one of the surely numerous people confused and appalled as to why anyone would think that would make for a good whimsical family film, congratulations! You display better judgement than Colin Trevorrow, who’s decision to film this thoroughly bizarre and hilariously misguided script led to him getting fired from directing Star Wars: Episode IX.

#7. Bright

A thinly veiled attempt to explore systemic racism in the way only a white beneficiary of nepotism like screenwriter Max Landis can, Bright magically manages to mash together generic buddy cop formula with generic fantasy “chosen one” tropes in a way that renders both entirely incoherent. Netflix squanders their biggest budget for an original film yet on the murky aesthetic of Suicide Squad director David Ayer and a script entirely disinterested in any worldbuilding. By the time Bright reaches its bafflingly ill-constructed climax, the viewer still hasn’t learned why it takes three magic wands to resurrect the non-descript “Dark Lord,” nor why the film uses fantasy stand-ins for every real-world ethnic group except for Latinx people. Rather than light the way to further tolerance, Bright suggests a dark future filled with dull half-baked ideas for Netflix’s attempts to become a major blockbuster competitor.

#6. Split

In many ways, 2017 was a year of going backwards. Though many critics heralded the film as a return to form for director M. Night Shyamalan, Split is another misfire from the once promising director. James McAvoy tries his best to salvage the bland exposition-heavy screenplay, but the film is ultimately undone by its reliance on regressive horror tropes. The marketing for the film was already concerning, preying on archaic fears of those suffering from mental illnesses, but the movie itself manages to take its offense in a whole other direction, fetishizing trauma while giving its survivors no agency. With years of potential growth in-between, it’s disappointing that this is the direction Shyamalan chose to finally return to the world of his best work, Unbreakable.

#5. The Bye Bye Man

What can one say about a film like The Bye Bye Man? What is one supposed to think about a film like The Bye Bye Man? Luckily, the movie gives us an answer. “Don’t think it, don’t say it,” reads the film’s tagline, which is certainly a philosophy the filmmakers took to heart, as they don’t tell viewers a single comprehensible detail about The Bye Bye Man, his powers, his motives, his poorly rendered digital mutt, his obsession with trains and Greek coins, or why he apparently makes other people impotent. This lack of detail is probably because the movie clearly didn’t put any thought into its premise, ripping off numerous better horror films throughout its nonsensical, jump-scare-heavy cornucopia of inept filmmaking techniques, abandoned plot threads, and unrealized ambition. From the silly name to the lazy costuming to the character’s grab-bag of distinguishing features, The Bye Bye Man is actually quite charming in its complete ineptitude, hence its position as a longest running point of ranting and mockery on the Reboot Already Underway podcast I co-host.

#4. CHiPs

When Baywatch can’t be considered the worst raunchy reimagining of a classic TV show of the year, you know something went massively wrong. CHiPs’ repeated insistence that its jokes aren’t actually homophobic is about as convincing as Donald Trump’s tweets about his genius intellect. The film’s treatment of its female characters is about as misogynistic as, well, Donald Trump’s tweets about women. The movie’s formulaic buddy-cop plot is about as lazy as, well, jokes about Donald Trump’s Twitter. The point is, CHiPs is loud, brash, incompetent, and nauseating, and you just can’t wait for it to finish out its allotted time.

#3. The Mummy

How do you kill what is already dead? Universal Pictures certainly found the answer when they killed their shared cinematic universe before it truly began. The Mummy is a thorough embarrassment, which elicited uncontrollable laughter from my friend and I as soon as the credits rolled due to its ridiculous dialogue, its jarring attempts at comedic relief, its logic-defying plotting, and its rancid stench of desperation to get audiences invested in the Dark Universe of shared monster movies, as seen in a momentum-destroying trip to the lab of shadowy monster-hunting organization, Prodigium. Universal’s decision to hand the reigns of this hopeful universe and the film’s $175million dollar budget to inexperienced director Alex Kurtzman makes about as much sense as Prodigium’s decision to keep their monster prison in the heart of a major metropolitan city like London. How could that possibly go wrong?

#2. Transformers: The Last Knight

If there was one consistency in a year of chaos and confusion, it was that the latest Transformers is once again one of the worst films of the year. No one probably expected The Last Knight to reverse the trend, especially with director Michael Bay still at the helm, but the film miraculously manages to lower the bar for the franchise ever more. What exists of The Last Knight’s so-called plot is a truly confusing attempt to weave together the Transformers mythos with King Arthur, Harriet Tubman, Nazis, Stonehenge, and Mark Wahlberg’s inability to get laid (Seriously, this is a big defining character trait in the film). The massive budget for special effects gets drowned out by the decision to switch aspect ratios ever other shot, even during simple dialogue exchanges, which makes the film nauseating and nigh-unwatchable. Unfortunately, despite the title, The Last Knight will not be the last we see of the Transformers series, as the near 3-hour run time apparently wasn’t enough for the film to finish up its story, ending with the cliffhanger reveal that the Earth is a Transformer. I repeat, the planet Earth is revealed to be a Transformer, and that’s not even in the top five dumbest plot developments of the film.

AND THE WORST FILM OF 2017 IS…

#1. The Emoji Movie

Should I just put a poop emoji and leave it at that? I mean, the world really needs to develop a new form of communication just to describe how awful this film is. Perhaps the only thing lazier than the jokes inspired by having to evaluate such a film as The Emoji Movie are the jokes in The Emoji Movie itself, with its festering byproduct of a screenplay, apparently created by a malfunctioning A.I. force-fed nothing but rough drafts of The Lego Movie, a book of old knock-knock jokes, endless Sony product placement, and the broken spirit of Sir Patrick Stewart. Led by two of the most obnoxious voices in modern comedy, the movie drudges viewers through an infuriating journey that replaces plot points with brand names, and never establishes any coherent dramatic stakes beyond the audience’s struggle to maintain sanity in the face of a Twitter bird deus-ex-machina and its half-hearted attempt at promoting feminism before a quick devolution into fascism. The Emoji Movie may not be the death of cinema, but it certainly feels like it while watching it, making it the worst movie of 2017.

NEXT UP: THE 2017 AARON FOR BEST DIRECTOR!

#film #theaarons #theaarons2017 #theaaronsfilm #worstof2017 #worst film #the emoji movie #transformers #the mummy #chips #split #bright #book of henry #wish upon #leatherface

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oqpromptparty · 7 years ago

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OQ Prompt Party Week

Hi everyone! I set up a Tumblr because I thought it would be the easiest place to post all of the prompts for the OQ Prompt Party week.

If you’d like to take part, just select any of the prompts from the list below and write a fic, make a video or create some art based on it. Please note that more than one person may choose the same prompt.

You may submit new stories or include the prompts in any of your existing verses.

Artists & Video makers may use any of the prompts, but there are some Art/Video specific ones at the bottom of the post.

I have condensed some of the prompts that were a little too long... and feel free to take some liberties with some of the more specific prompts!

If you have any questions, please tweet @OQPromptParty

OQ Prompt Party week will run from 21st - 27th August. Please don’t post anything until then.

Prizes:

Everyone who posts a prompt for all seven days of the OQ Prompt Party week will be sent a limited edition, one of a kind Outlaw Queen button/badge. These will never be available again, so don’t miss out!

Each day there will also be the opportunity to win another prize. You will be entered into a prize draw and the more prompts you write, the more times your name will be entered into the draw. I will announce which prizes will be available on each day soon.

There will also be a separate prize for most prompts included in a single one-shot/chapter (crack!fic encouraged).

And now! Without further ado, here are your prompts:

Prompts:

Friends with benefits

Pride & Prejudice AU with Regina in the role of Mr. Darcy

Hospital AU with Regina as the Chief of cardio (nicknamed ‘The Evil Queen’, work addicted, hates everyone, on call room = sex) and Robin as a Nurse (follows the rules, has a crush on Regina, makes out with her in the on call room, lives in campervan in the forest)

DarkOQ go to New York (aka real World) for their honeymoon and then stops by Storybrooke to check on Regina.

Regina kidnaps Robin to prevent him from marrying Marian.

Regina finds out her fiancé (can be any ouat character) has been cheating on her with her sister on her wedding day! She runs away to a different city or county & meets Robin.

Regina meets her soul mate online. But is reluctant to meet Robin in person for fear of ruining what they already have. Will Robin be able to change her mind? And what happens when her friends try to force her hand?

Robin, Regina and the Evil Queen... perhaps maybe Robin meets one, then meets the other... doesn't quite realise straightaway... ooh they could be twins!

Regina as a headmistress and Robin being a billionaire whose son Roland, goes to the school where Regina is the boss.

Robin being Regina's personal trainer, because Regina wants to work out before her wedding but we all know that wedding won't happen now that they met.

Regina mothering Roland (it'd be awesome if Robin witnessed at least a part of the scene)

Robin actually dies in 5x02 and after seeing Robin getting taken to the underworld Regina chooses to follow. It's the author's choice whether she goes alone or with the storybrooke clan.

Regina owns a Dessous boutique and Robin comes in quite often to buy stuff for his imaginary girlfriend in Regina's sizes and her taste because he just wants to talk to her and work up the courage to ask her on a date but Regina thinks him weird bc why would he flirt with her and buy all this shit for his girlfriend. Later she finds all the unopened bags with stuff in his apartment.

Wonder Woman scene at the healing lake thingy. Regina sees a (naked) man for the first time.

"you can't just run around and threaten to kill everyone." "Oh but you never told me that so how would I know?"

Dark Robin contacts Regina when he doesn't know how to deal with the EQ after a particular fight.

Ink Heart AU Whenever Regina reads a story out loud, characters come to life. She vows never to read out loud again. One day she comes home to find Robin Hood in her son's room. Henry confesses that he shares her strange gift.

"The poor guy at table 4 has almost ordered the whole menu just so he can look at you and you didn't even give him a smile. How about when you slip him your number instead of ask what dessert he wants."

Troy AU (Robin as Achilles and Regina as Briseis, evtl. Hook as Paris and Emma as Helena) when her temple is plundered Robin saves priestess Regina from the hands of the Spartan men.

Roland spills something over himself in Regina's vault and now any time he lies he turns further into a donkey (like in Pinocchio).

(early OQ) Regina comes home and finds the television is dead because it has tons of arrows sticking out. "What on earth did the poor TV do to you?!"

Missing Year body swap AU with Regina and Robin

Homeless AU "You gave me a dollar every day for three years and now I had a bit of luck, I have a job and I really want to pay you back."

"have you by any chance seen my vibrator?" "What's that?" *Explanation* "Ooooh, that thing. Yes, used it to fix the ____."

Regina and Robin meet Daniel/Marian in the Underworld

Cora didn't get the sheriff but the real Robin on Regina's birthday.

Regina meets the baby of DarkOQ for the first time

It's cold and OQ share a blanket

OQ's first camping trip with the kids and Regina turns out to be a natural at _______.

Robin isn't really dead, he's caught in the book of "Adventures of Robin Hood" and tries to get (a message) back to Regina.

Henry decides to throw the author's rules over board and rewrites his mom's happy ending.

It's Regina's first bday after Henry is gone and she feels lonely. The doorbell rings and a little Roland is waiting there with a half eaten cupcake for her (ofc he says it wasn't him, but the icing on his cheeks says it all).

OQ go skinny dipping in the water and when they come out someone stole their clothes.

After missing year just after curse broke. Regina asks Robin to pick up some tampons for her from the store. It turns into quite an adventure because Robin doesn't know what they are.

AU A: "sorry you're sitting on my sun lounger. B: oh and since when is it yours?" A: I clearly reserved it before breakfast with my towel - which by the way you're sitting on! so get your butt off my sun lounger or else."

Robin spills a drink on Regina.

Your OTP is covering up a murder.

Robin doesn’t die instead is resurrected somehow and in NYC as a dark Robin. Things from the finale happen. Regina kills the EQ but she doesn’t die because her soul is tethered to Robin or something like that. EQ and evil Robin find each other. Regina has to find a way to kill EQ or reunite with her and save Robin from the darkness.

Robin dies or so they believe, but in actuality a villain has given Robin a memory curse and he remembers nothing of his life with Regina. Regina helps him remember.

Regina and Robin go look for Daniel’s grave and they happen to find both his and Marian’s stone. Both tipped over and Regina and Robin share an emotional moment.

Groundhog Day AU with OQ.

A fic based on the movie Sabrina.

Regina drunkenly confesses to Robin about the lion tattoo and pixie dust. Robin misunderstands and thinks she doesn't want him around her

Regina picks up the newest book by her favorite writer. Another best seller that she can’t get enough of. What she doesn’t realize is that the heroine from those books is inspired by her and the books were written by her sweet, handsome but oh so shy (at least in RL) neighbor Robin.

Regina and Marian are single moms, neighbors and best friends. When Marian dies she leaves Roland in Regina’s care. A few months later Robin moves in next door. While unpacking his things he discovers a picture of a very pregnant Marian and remembers their night together before leaving for England. There is a date on the back of the photo and he does the math. He is a father and his son is closer than he thinks.

Through a glitch in the system (or was it?) two strangers find themselves married to each other. (somewhat inspired by the movie Accidental Husband).

Regina’s house/apartment is on fire. Lt. Robin Locksley and his men save her and Henry. She goes over to the firehouse to thank them properly and ends up inviting Robin for dinner.

Robin as gladiator and Regina as his domina. (pure smut)

Robin proposes to Regina with a little bit of help from the Storybook and Henry.

The smuttiest smut you’ve ever written in your life.

Robin is taking dancing lessons to surprise Regina on their first wedding anniversary (since their wedding dance ended in a disaster when he broke her toe) and Regina thinks he is cheating. She even follows him with Tinkerbell to find out with who.

Robin and Regina are roommates. Robin accidentally walks in on her getting out of the shower. Regina returns the favor.

Regina drags Robin along with her for a little shopping. Their last stop is Victoria’s Secret and things get “hot and steamy” in the changing room.

Regina and Robin are single parents (Henry and Roland are the same age and go to class together) and have clashed a couple of times during parent/school meetings. She thinks he is immature and irresponsible. He thinks she is overprotective and overbearing. A school camping trip comes up and both go as chaperons (not their idea). Henry and Robin bond and so do Roland and Regina and they both start seeing each other in a new light.

Regina as a soldier. She comes home from her second tour in Iraq. She is not the same woman she used to be after all the things she has seen and all the things she has done. She wants to get her life back on track. Along the way, she meets Robin who is battling his own demons and understands her better than she thinks.

Robin trying to stop EQ!Regina like Xander did with Dark Willow on BTVS.

Robin picks up a hitchhiker named Regina. Things get interesting while on the road.

Henry and Roland are friends (they are about 10 years old). Roland really likes Henry’s mom Regina and Henry thinks Roland’s dad Robin is pretty cool. They decide to play cupid.

Henry makes sure that several things in his house break and Robin (a handyman) has to come and fix them. Hopefully, his mom’s broken heart as well.

Regina, single mom, mayor and workaholic is in desperate need of a new housekeeper/nanny after Henry has scared off yet another one. Robin, widower and single dad who’s life has not been easy after losing Marian is in desperate need of a new job and home for him and his son Roland.

After a blackout, heavily pregnant Regina ends up stuck in an elevator (or another place, whichever you prefer) with a stranger. Unfortunately, her water breaks and Robin has to help her deliver her baby.

Regina is Mary Margaret’s childhood friend and maid of honor. Robin is David’s best friend from college and best man. The first meeting between the couple’s best friends doesn’t go as planned and ends in a disaster with a very upset MM and a disappointed David. Regina and Robin are forced to put their differences aside to ensure a happy wedding day for their friends.(If there is a part with them having to take dance lessons and things heat up during that I won't be sad.)

Regina and Robin as thieves: It is the 3rd time he had outsmarted her and stolen from right under her nose. Only this time he is a bit careless with his disguise (at least that’s what she thinks) and she manages to see the lion tattoo on his right arm which helps her track him down. Her plan is to steal everything back from him. His plan is to steal one last thing from her: her heart.

Robin, a single dad, saves Henry from being run over by a car, but gets hit himself in the process. Regina is so grateful she helps him and Roland while Robin heals.

Robin is a disgruntled former employee of Cora Mills who, in a moment of desperation, kidnaps Coras daughter, Regina.

Robin, somewhat of a ladies man, gets the shock of his life when a social worker hands him a baby boy, telling him that his mother had died and that she wanted the baby’s father to take care of him. Robin doesn’t know what to do and asks his neighbor Regina for help.Regina is reluctant at first. She doesn’t like him. Thanks to him Henry has witnessed his conquests walks of shame on a regular basis which always led to awkward questions.

Robin can’t explain the feelings he has for Regina. One night he overhears a very drunk Regina and Tinkerbell (Tink already knows that it’s Robin and drops a few hints without giving him away) talking about the man with the lion tattoo and it all starts making sense.

Robin cuts in line at the supermarket. Regina is not having it.

Robin is so used to sleeping in the forest he won't fall asleep in houses etc because of the missing forest noises (birds, frogs...)

instead of Neal, Pan's shadow Robin and Roland to Neverland.

Author Henry by accidentally mixes up some of his comics with the stories he's supposed to be writing down. ... therefore somehow Regina and Robin trade places with some comic book characters.

Regina used to be a teen Popstar, now a few decades have passed. Life has happened etc and she's asked to be back on stage for a show to celebrate the decade she's been famous in. They want her to share the stage though with a few men who used to the British boyband "The Merry Men"

AU based on the film "one fine day"

Enchanted Forest, s3, OQ secret candlelight dinner.

David, Killian and Robin talking about things from the land without magic with King Arthur (and Merlin). Gadgets, things that vibrate (including sex toys and phones), birth control, underwear…

Robin asking Regina what certain things are (for) after having been to the store/supermarket/pharmacy like roller skates and birth control.

Robin is a wedding planner. Regina is divorce lawyer.

Robin and Regina are actors in the same movie or tv-show who are in denial about being in love with each other. Their friends on set try to trick them into discovering their feelings

OQ’s first baby.

Robin is a counselor/psychologist who helps people with anger management. Regina is a particularly difficult patient of his. they both develop feelings for one another.

Roland looses his first tooth

Robin teaches Regina how to shoot an arrow.

Regina teaches Robin how to ride (assuming he doesn't know how to)

Robin meets Cora/Henry in the underworld

Regina tells Robin that she's infertile.

Roland and Henry prepare a surprise birthday party for Regina.

Roland’s first tantrum with Regina

Roland can't sleep so he sneaks in Henry’s bedroom. When Regina and Robin wake up, they find a fort has been built in Henry’s room and the two boys sleeping soundly.

Just like she did with Henry when he was younger, Regina shows Roland how to garden and he insists in having his own plant to take care of.

Henry and Robin spend a day/afternoon/or/night alone for the first time.

Robin asks Henry to be his best man

Regina asks Roland to be his flower boy

Regina is sick, her men take care of her

Family vacation/road trip

Roland is scared of something (darkness, or whatever) and he is ashamed. Henry tells him that until this day he is still scared of (insert something)

Regina snores while sleeping with Robin.

Robin doesn't know how to work a toaster.

Robin tries to steal Regina’s cab.

Sex goes horribly wrong and they laugh about it

Roland loses Robin's bow

Kissing in the rain

Modern day AU where they are cosplayers and meet at a Comic Con

Roland wants to be the evil queen for Halloween

Sex on the kitchen table

Robin accidentally gets Regina the flowers she hates most.

Robin is allergic to something and Regina accidentally feeds it to him.

Robin and Roland miss Regina and video call her.

Regina takes Robin and Roland to the beach for the very first time.

Henry decides he wants to be a vegetarian so Regina and Robin follow suit as moral support, but they're secretly sneaking bacon, chicken wings and pepperoni pizza into their room.

Regina and Robin talking over what Zelena did to him.

Robin and Regina putting her heart back in after Zelena took it for her spell.

Regina remembering Robin is still chained to a tree after the shattered sight spell is over.

Regina and Robin take roland for ice cream for the first time (Roland being introduced to her). Leading to the scene we saw of them walking hand in hand, on the way to grannies.

Missing year: Snow ships oq! And however that manifests, maybe Regina realised she's been trying to match make with the two of them? Snow goes to Robin to talk about Regina cos she's worried?

Regina thinks Robin may be cheating on her with his ex Marian... until they introduce her to Mulan, her girlfriend.

Party of Five AU. Henry has to take care of the Hood-Mills kids after OQ dies.

Canon divergent oneshot where Robin crashes Regina's wedding hoping to steal some jewels and fancy plates but ends up stealing her instead.

Roland finds two kittens, they love Regina the most.

A walk in the woods / on the beach.

Cuddling during a flight.

Robin & Regina hide the dagger…

Robin is a comic-strip artist and an owner of comic book store. He creates a new super heroine inspired by his favorite customer Regina, who he admires from afar.

How the EQ responds to Robins proposal/first time they see each other after the arrow.

D!OQ first kiss.

D!OQ stealing from the rich together so kinda bandit EQ.

Robins birthday....Regina bakes him a cake and probably has some other surprises for him!!

Regina asking Robin to move in with her.

How S3 should have ended...no Marion coming back nonsense. Them having a nice family dinner at granny's and Regina asking Robin if he wanted to go home with her,for their first night together.

Any domestic OQ kitchen chores with Regina in one of Robins shirts.

Them having a conversation about her cutting her hair, why did she do it, him running his fingers through it.

Henry catching them in a compromising position somewhere.

Regina watching Robin sleep the morning after the vault before she gets up and dressed.

A lot more vault blanks filled in. Did she question/was there any conversation after the initial kiss? Where'd they go? What exactly happened?

Regina having a hard time on Roland's first day of school.

Any and all oq wedding scenarios.

Robin seeing Marion in the underworld (or getting to do anything in the underworld).

Jealous Robin in Camelot.

Hogwarts AU where Robin is the Gryffindor Guy who falls for the Slytherin girl Regina.

Regina and Roland use magic mirrors as walkie talkies.

Robin is called to the principal's office after Roland gets in a fight with a kid who said mean things about Regina.

Sliding Doors AU.

Roland opens a lemonade stand.

Robin has to sub in for Regina at a Parent Teachers Association meeting for school.

Robin discovers bacon. (bonus points for sexy kitchen shenanigans)

Henry protects Roland from bullies.

Regina is bad at camping but then saves Roland from bears.

Robin and Regina watch Game of Thrones together. Robin thinks Regina would have given Cersei a run for her money. Also Regina's dragon is cooler than Dany's dragons.

The Notebook AU

Dark OQ masquerading as real OQ.

Regina gets drunk and wanders into Robin's camp late at night...either to yell at him, or fuck him (or both). she ends up breaking his tent.

Regina owns a bar and Robin is a regular who has a secret crush on her.

Robin and Regina meet at a singles vacation resort, have a blast together, and agree not to see each other when vacation is over. But then someone breaks that agreement....

Bandit!Regina and Robin get captured by Nottingham and have to find a way to get out of the cell.

Wish Nottingham also comes over to the Enchanted Forest with Wish!Robin and The Evil Queen.

Regina and Robin meet at the principals office after their children are caught fighting.

Robin has amnesia. He falls in love with his Regina, his doctor.

Regina and Wish!Robin get married in the EF.

Despite cursing herself with infertility, Regina becomes pregnant. She talks to Robin about her confusion as to what this means.

Regina and Robin meet at a grief counseling session.

Blind date.

Regina or Robin suffers a sex related injury.

Regina's hair is curly and Robin likes.

Henry asks Robin for advice on girls.

Roland tells Regina that he is scared that someone will take his papa away.

Roland asks Regina to be his mother for "Bring Your Mom To School Day"

Regina enchants Roland's birthday cake so whatever he wishes for comes true.

Skype sex.

Regina and Robin meet in a club. There's instant attraction and smut ensues.

Henry is a child actor who gets fired by some douchey TV producers, Regina and Robin comfort him.

Henry and Roland have their first fight.

Regina gets hit by a car and Robin is a good samaritan who helps her.

Missing year. A drunken Regina confesses her attraction to Robin.

Robin gets drunk and tells John he thinks he's falling in love with the evil queen.

MissingYear sick!Regina with Robin taking care of her.

s7 setting, cursed Robin (with another name), Seattle university professor, goes out for a drink after a rough day at a bar he usually avoids as he knows many of his students frequent there, making eyes to the 'zesty and feisty' bar owner. When he meets her, he understands why... What he doesn't understand is why his heart flutters the moment she speaks to him nor does she get why a strange tattoo on his arm seems strangely familiar.

Based on BBC's Sherlock, Regina as Irene Adler and Robin as Sherlock Holmes, but with their own unique touch to it... What happens when insane consulting criminal Gold hires a well known dominatrix to take out the world's most genius detective? How does her mind that matches his own manage to make him feel something he had never felt before???

He's a loner, willingly avoiding human contact and emotional connection after the unexpected loss of his wife (and child... I know I'm bad). He's given an AI program that talks to him as if it were a real person. Her voice intrigues him, her responses are clever and witty... She sounds so real.... If only she were. Is she?

Just Like Heaven au. He's in a coma. She's moving in to his apartment, but his spirit seems to have other ideas. How can they coexist? And can she bring him back?

Henry jumps from realm to realm searching for Robin's soul. When he crashes Cinderella's carriage, he discovers this new realm hides way more surprises than he thought... Like exiled souls that search for a way back.

Bandit Regina gets arrested under Prince John's command... Funnily enough someone she considered her rival occupies the cell right next to hers. Can they work together to escape? Can they trust each other with their freedom and life?

Grown up (and quite magical) Robyn discovers the truth about her conception and the unfair loss of her father... Needless to say, she holds a huge grudge, but when she faces Regina about it, she discovers how deeply her aunt has been hurt over that loss and how she hid her pain all those years…

After Robyn searches for her brother, the two share a talk about their past, their father and Regina.... She listens from afar, tears running down her face, as she recalls so many moments in which she felt she'd be truly happy like she always planned with him... Funnily enough, he listens too.. And makes sure she knows he does. And that his children do too.

House MD AU. She's his boss, he's a smart pain in the ass yet the most brilliant mind she has in her hospital... And one of her oldest acquaintances as well. When she searches for a way to have a child and tries in vitro... He's the only one she trusts with the injections... But he objects to her having a child with someone she doesn't know... Will she listen?

Robin meets Regina in Seattle and they fall for each other again not recognizing who the other is. When the curse breaks (and we all bawl our eyes out with them cause they found each other after three billion years) robin reveals he has a huge thing for Regina in curls... After he does, she embraces her natural wave almost permanently.

Outlaw queen adopting a baby

Hood Mills family getting their first pet

Robin telling Regina he can't have children.

Regina coming out as bisexual or pansexual.

Robin proposing to Regina in the forest.

Robin getting his first job in Storybrooke.

Robin coming out as bisexual or pansexual.

Regina teaching Robin how to use modern things.

(AU) Robin didn't die, he ends up in the new town (and is cursed too), meets Regina and he can feel the connection but he can't remember anything. They develop a relationship and break the curse with a true love kiss.

(Young OQ AU) Regina is dating Robin and she can't wait to go to prom with him but something happens and she can't go so Robin organize a romantic dinner in her garden.

Sunday morning breakfast

Dealing with Regina's period [ex. cramps, moodiness, extra horny, etc.]

Midnight snack

Bartender AU [one owns the bar, the other is a bartender, sparks fly, love unfolds, etc.]

Robin & Regina meet & fall in love in their 50's.

“South Pacific" AU.

There are a few prompts for certain writers that I will send out individually.

Video specific prompts:

The Winner Takes It All - Regina, Robin, Zelena/Marian

Bluebird

Sanctuary (Nashville OST)

Uptown Girl

Art specific prompts:

Banner to use for the fic Happiness Can't Be Arranged by grayautumnsky (OQ meets Jane Austen)

WW2 AU by grayautumnsky - Robin is a Nazi soldier during the occupation of France. If this were a manip (doesn't have to be), the pics of Sean from Timeless would be perfect. As for Regina, when I think of her in this fic I always picture the character Sira from The Time In Between (which is set during WW2).

Regina & Robin reading legends about him (a canon scene which we've never seen). And if I can ask for anything else: I'm so weak for DimplesQueen, I'd love to see a drawing of them&Robin

Robin & Regina go on vacation.

#outlaw queen #robin hood #regina mills #lana parrilla #sean maguire #oq #robin x regina #robin/regina #oqpromptparty #oq ff #fan fiction #fan art #oq fan art #outlaw queen fan art #outlaw queen fan fiction

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goatsandgangsters · 7 years ago

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Okay so now it is time for The Thinky Thoughts About Actual Hamlet, rather than just The Encounter

tl;dr: the production was iNCREDIBLE, the entire cast was phenomenal, the staging was very interesting and they made a lot of cool choices, it was also one of the funniest productions of Hamlet I’ve ever seen and there were times when I laughed until my sides hurt, but also I wanted to cry very often too, my review is going to admittedly be Biased, but like I said, the entire cast was phenomenal

The entirety of the opening scene was done with all of the lights completely off, except for the occasional very, very dim spot on the ghost. This was repeated again when Hamlet tags along for the watch, and I thought it was a great lighting choice to have us literally in the dark

Regarding humorous touches, Anatol’s first line when he’s addressed is like... he’s just taken a sip of his drink and gets a very deer-in-headlights “I was called on by the teacher and I don’t know the answer” look and momentarily just kind of... freezes with panic. There was a lot of subtle humor and also humanizing.

They stripped away a lot of the nobility and the pomp from the characters and they seemed very un-artistocratic. It really centered it as a family drama, which I loved. Cladius also had such a wonderful skeeze factor to him, like he was more your gross drunk uncle than your well-bred aristocrat uncle

The “methinks I see my father” was hilarious, with horatio and co. freezing and turning in sync, completely panicked that they’re about to see the ghost again. the humor of that whole exchange was really fresh

huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurgh ophelia and laertes sibling feelings. they completely nailed the teasing sibling dynamic

also, um. so those jeans that he was wearing were... very tight. very, very tight. they were tighter than the skinny jeans I was wearing, let’s put it that way. and at one point he bent over directly in front of us and uh, wow. worth the price of admission just for that (a very talented actor but um, that was a bonus)

In general, I really love Polonius. He was bumbling and like Such a Dad, without seeming too incompetent? I think sometimes he can be too much of a buffoon and you’re left wondering why he’s been employed this long? And like, he was definitely a buffoon, but it was too much? That, or maybe my threshold for belief that absolute idiots can hold positions of political power has expanded

And as long as I’m on the subject, Ophelia was incredible. Easily my second-fave performance of everyone. She was very... solid? I feel like acting choices usually make Ophelia very delicate and waifish and fragile, but she felt like a snarky young girl who might be the protagonist of a coming of age indie movie about a snarky young girl making her way in indie new york, with like, a guitar or something. You know? Like, you never got the sense that she was a breakable wisp. She stress ate a lasagna on stage. She “nope”d the fuck out of her brother giving her The Sex Talk and rolled under a table to ignore him. #Relatable

Most of the cast doubled as the theatre troupe that comes for a visit, which was great for, you know, reasons. Reasons of your fave not fucking off to France for half the show

I won’t lie, there were definite times when I completely tuned out what was happening on stage in favor of watching Anatol just like... exist. His calves, man. His calves are mighty and sculpted. He was moving furniture during one scene and I have no idea what anyone said. I cannot express to you how tight these jeans were

Keegan-Michael Key doing the prologue of the play-within-a-play was the honest to god funniest thing I’ve ever seen. It was just five straight minutes of him making odd noises and gesticulating wildly. I laughed until my face hurt. I laughed until my sides ached. I cannot remember the last time I laughed that hard. And this is not something I usually say about a production of Hamlet

My favorite part about this though was that I get the sense he may have gone on longer than usual? Because when he started it, the cast was relatively composed, and then even they started to lose it. Like there was a definite shift where like... he was done but then oH NO HE WAS NOT DONE and you could tell suddenly that the whole cast was struggling to keep their shit together. anatol went from stoic, to hand over his mouth with telltale eyebrows raised so you knew he was smiling, to honest to god covering his entire face with his hand

Oh, going backwards a little bit, Oscar Isaac was very frequently in his underwear and stabbed a poor defenseless lasagna to death. It was not honestly as bad as what the cryptic tweets about it made it seem. Unless he decided to scale back that night, but he only stabbed it to death. But yeah, I have... seen more of him than perhaps I cared to see, if I’m honest

So, okay, not to make it seem like Oscar Isaac wasn’t amazing, because he was absolutely amazing, but this was the first production of Hamlet that really seemed like it was about the ensemble. Everything else I’ve seen has always been Hamlet centered, with everything else always seeming to orbit him (which, you know, he is the title), but this was very much... I really felt like this was as much about everyone else as it was about him. All in all, it was just such a stellar cast

The scene with Hamlet joking about Polonius’s dead body is hilarious no matter what, but it’s even better when he literally kicks someone out of their front row seat to throw Polonius into it and hide him under a playbill (there was, on the whole, a lot of audience engagement)

SPEAKING OF POLONIUS, dear god I feel bad for this guy. and for whoever has to clean the theatre after every show. BEARING IN MIND THAT THE STAGE IS CARPETED, the poor guy is lying dead on the ground, while Ophelia drags in two giant plants from the lobby of the theatre, yanks out the plant, and dumps two giant things of dirt on him. and then arranges the flowers on his face.

which, getting ahead of myself here, but instead of having an off-stage death, she hauls an actual working hose on stage, completely drenches herself, places the hose on the mound of dirt that is Polonius, WHICH IS NOW QUICKLY BECOMING A RIVER OF MUD ON THE CARPETED FLOOR, and then she lies down next to him to also die in the mud and the flowers, which was visually very powerful, but I also couldn’t stop thinking about how uncomfortable it must be to lie on stage covered in mud

but yeah, backtracking a bit. the BELLOWING ROAR OF “WHERE IS THIS KING” from off-stage as Anatol comes charging on and immediately runs at Claudius with a butcher knife. mm boy.

contrasted with the only moment in the play where I actually did cry, which was the piteous way that he crumpled upon hearing of Ophelia’s death. hhhhhhhrgh

I’m not sure whether it was hilarious or painful that Polonius and Ophelia played the gravediggers. I mean they WERE hilarious and that scene was so excellent, but also like. ouch. harsh. way harsh. way to pour mud in the wounds. (there was so much mud on this poor carpet)

Hamlet and Horatio were chilling in the audience for this scene. I’m pretty sure Keegan was on some woman’s lap.

and now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for, kICK HIS ASS TINY LAERTES!!!!!!!!!!!! and that’s the story of how I watched anatol (in very tight jeans) tackle oscar isaac to the ground and choke the fuck out of him in a giant pool of actual mud. oscar isaac’s face was actually turning red, I could see the tendons in anatol’s hands, and I was honestly a little concerned

anyway then Hamlet like... talked about himself or some shit while cuddling Ophelia’s dead body, but I was honestly paying more attention to Claudius and Horatio, who were still wrestling with Anatol in the mud. #filthy #noliterally

uUUMMMM WHAT ELSE WHAT ELSE well, okay, at that point. I kind of feel like I had already ascended onto another plane of existence, such was The Strength of that entire scene, between Polonius and Ophelia being hilarious gravediggers, the clever wordplay (and oh, the irony, of Polonius now being the one to best Hamlet in contest of words and wits), between me being in agony about brokenhearted and enraged Laertes, between Professional Mud Wrestling Smackdown ... what more could I possibly need in my life?

but yeah, then anatol and oscar isaac beat each other up in full fencing gear

then everyone was dead

me included

just drag my body on stage and throw it in with the rest of the carnage (and mud) because I am dead. completely dead. consider my mortal coil completely shuffled off.

everyone was incredible, the choices they made were incredible, anatol’s jeans were incredible, the double casting was very deliberate and drew a lot of interesting parallels (the hecuba speech and laertes in general as foils for hamlet, by the same actor; polonius finally outwitting hamlet; and of course claudius as claudius and his brother goes without saying)

it was funny, it was moving, it was fresh, it was creative, it was stellar, it was very muddy

#this is REALLY LONG sorry but. I have a lot to say and also hamlet... is long #even though it absolutely DID NOT feel long at all #those were the fastest three and a half hours of my life #hamlet weekend

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bountyofbeads · 5 years ago

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A SECOND TERM FOR TRUMP SEEMS MORE POSSIBLE THAN EVER. But what would it look like? DEAR GOD NO!!! #VoteBlueNoMatterWho

"The signal victory of Trump’s first term, ratified by his impeachment acquittal, was his triumph over the rule of law. In a second term, he will help himself to all the spoils he can." https://t.co/HYUJs6TrFI

"Former Attorney General Loretta Lynch often said the Department of Justice is the only Cabinet agency named for an ideal. If Trump wins a second term, it is not clear whether that ideal can hold." https://t.co/HYUJs6TrFI

"In a second Trump term, we'll see the death of global climate efforts." https://t.co/HYUJs6TrFI

"When you look at the budget cuts he’s proposing for 2021, they’re going to disproportionately impact the black community and low-income people and the most vulnerable," says Representative Barbara Lee https://t.co/HYUJs6TrFI

"In a second term of Trump, there’ll be even less cultural bandwidth for dire self-reflection." https://t.co/HYUJs6TrFI

"It increasingly looks as if a second Trump term would see Iran restart its program full speed." https://t.co/HYUJs6TrFI

"Newly empowered by his father’s victory in 2020, Don Jr.’s online presence will only get louder." https://t.co/HYUJs6TrFI

THE SECOND TERM

11 Months From Today🤢😭

A second term for Trump seems more possible than ever. But what would it look like?

By The Editors With interviews by Brian Feldman, Ben Jacobs, Sarah Jones, Anna Silman, and Matt Stieb | Published FEB. 17, 2020 | New York Magazine | Posted February 18, 2020 |

Here is one starting point for contemplating a second Trump term: The Ukraine scandal only became a Trump scandal because Ukraine refused to submit to a pair of presidential demands that would have been fairly easy to satisfy. If Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelensky had merely announced that he was looking into a mysterious missing Democratic server and corruption by the Bidens, then the whole affair probably wouldn’t have become a Trump scandal at all. It would have become, to the American news-consuming public, a Biden scandal. Ukraine held off, though, for a very sensible reason. Ukrainians, analyzing American politics, calculated that Trump may not stay in office much beyond this year. It was a hedge against forever Trumpism.

Trump’s favorable rating fell faster than any other president-elect’s in the history of polling, dropping below 50 percent even before his inauguration, a fact that made him look to most civilians as well as politicians like a probable one-termer from the get-go. The assumption that his election was a terrible mistake that would be corrected in four years has been an invisible force propping up the resistance both domestic and international to his agenda. The Iran nuclear deal has primarily kept its head above water because Europe is still respecting the deal rather than joining in Trump’s saber-rattling. When Trump gutted the Obama administration’s fuel-mileage standards, auto companies steered clear, no doubt because it wouldn’t pay for them to invest in gas-guzzlers if a Democrat was to come in and force them to change again.

Only in the past few months has Trump’s reelection started to appear as likely as not. If he wins, a basic calculation about how to deal with him will tip for a whole range of players. Trump has leaned on social-media companies and the owners of such important organs as CNN and the Washington Post to suppress criticism and scrutiny of his administration and to dial up the praise. He has openly promised pardons to anybody who violates the law in the effort to deport migrants or complete his border fence, and as of yet, nobody has taken him up on the offer.

The natural assumption among those rooting for his failure is that four more years will be as unbearable as the first four. But they could in fact be significantly worse than that if a chunk of the resistance to Trump’s power suddenly gives way, revealing something enduring, even permanent, about America. Who else — in the bureaucracy, in business, in governments overseas — is holding off full collaboration with Trump on the premise that he’s just a passing fever? Here are 19 visions of this possible near future.

—Jonathan Chait

IMPEACHMENT REDUX

If he wins again, he’ll be impeached again; I guarantee that with 100 percent certainty. Pelosi cannot stop that freight train, and it’ll be Democrats’ only outlet, since we’ll keep the Senate. And if it’s for the same nothingburger they impeached him on this time, it’ll end the same way. I just don’t think Pelosi can control her caucus.

We’ll see Trump unleashed. Frankly, some of the stuff in the week since he’s been acquitted — even Hope Hicks coming back and Johnny McEntee, his former body guy, becoming head of the Office of Presidential Personnel — show that the guardrails that keep him in the boat have come completely off. So if anyone tells you what that means, policywise, they’re guessing. Nobody knows. There are signals from the conservatives in the administration that the second term is when deficit reduction starts, but that’s complete and utter b.s. I don’t think the president has ever campaigned on deficits or cared about deficits. Look at his budgets: Conservatives at the Office of Management and Budget have cut programs only for the president to try to walk back their decision days later. There may be another run at health care — not Obamacare repeal, but another run at some sort of health-care overhaul. Like the USMCA trade deal, a mushed-up version of reforms that nobody’s excited about.

It will be interesting to see politically, if he’s not on the ballot, if he still has the hold on the party that he does now. Half of the GOP senators are queasy every morning over tweets. Do they start to distance themselves or is it still MAGA town, where you have to stick with him or you will get your ass beat in the primary? Personally, I think the president makes life harder on himself and Republicans at times, but you cannot call yourself a Republican and not be happy about the last four years. All in for four more.

—Anonymous GOP Hill Staffer

A POLITICS OF PURE REVENGE

The signal victory of Trump’s first term, ratified by his impeachment acquittal, was his triumph over the rule of law. In a second term, he will help himself to all the spoils he can.

Trump doesn’t believe in the old axiom “Don’t Get Mad, Get Even” — he gets mad and even. The purge of the Vindmans and Gordon Sondland, closely followed by an induced exodus at the Justice Department and the attempted intimidation of a judge on behalf of Roger Stone, will just have been a warm-up act if Election Day empowers his mob enterprise even further.

Rudy Giuliani continues to travel to Ukraine in search of smears, in lieu of actual dirt, that can soil the Bidens. But surely that is not his entire brief. What “evidence” is now being manufactured by Giuliani and passed to William Barr to wreak vengeance on former U.S. ambassador Marie Yovanovitch and other diplomats who testified before the House? Meanwhile, Steve Mnuchin’s Treasury Department, having followed up Trump’s acquittal by handing over Hunter Biden’s financial documents to a tarring-and-feathering committee of the Republican Senate, can be counted on to find pretexts to burrow into the finances of the Clintons, Mike Bloomberg, and their respective foundations, as well as the tax returns of Nancy Pelosi’s wealthy husband.

Perhaps highest on the White House enemies list is Mitt Romney, who has already been warned by a key Trump flunky, Matt Schlapp, chairman of the Conservative Political Action Conference, that he might face physical violence were he to show up at CPAC’s annual conclave. If that line of revenge fails, one can imagine Trump finding a way to go after tax breaks and other federal benefits bestowed on Romney’s beloved Mormon church, which the president mocked as his nemesis’s “crutch” after his lonely vote to convict. Mormons, however conservative and Republican, have not signed on fully to Trump, and he has been less popular in Utah than in any other solid-red state. Trump does not need them, and one of his most powerful Christian supporters, the Dallas Baptist pastor Robert Jeffress, has labeled Mormonism “a heresy from the pit of hell” besides. The president’s servile Evangelical base will delight in whatever pain he inflicts on Romney and his co-religionists.

When Trump claimed “America First” as a mantra, he called it “a brand-new, modern term,” oblivious of its historical provenance as a movement that attracted Nazis and Nazi sympathizers in America in the years before World War II. It’s a rare time when he probably was telling the truth. Such is his illiteracy that he probably hasn’t heard of the Night of the Long Knives either. But the evidence suggests that, if nothing else, he has mastered the fundamentals of Godfather 2.

—Frank Rich

THE JUSTICE DEPARTMENT BROUGHT TO HEEL

Former Attorney General Loretta Lynch often said the Department of Justice is the only Cabinet agency named for an ideal. If Trump wins a second term, it is not clear whether that ideal can hold.

Any concerns about criminal activity by Trump or his campaign in winning the 2020 election? Those will die a quiet death under Attorney General William Barr’s new policy that he must approve any investigation into presidential campaigns before it may be opened. The Office of Legal Counsel will continue to issue opinions protecting Trump, such as those that the president cannot be criminally charged or investigated and that his aides need not respond to congressional subpoenas. The late Roy Cohn will become known as Joseph McCarthy’s William Barr.

On the civil side, DOJ could be used as a sword in the name of religious liberty by filing lawsuits challenging reproductive and LGBTQ rights.

Barr could starve for resources the divisions of DOJ that protect civil rights, voting rights, and the environment and use the Antitrust Division to promote the business interests of Trump’s political supporters while fighting mergers of companies he opposes. DOJ will fail to prioritize threats to national security by using a zero-tolerance approach to immigration enforcement, charging every undocumented grandmother they encounter instead of focusing resources on suspected terrorists.

Lawyers of integrity will continue to leave DOJ, replaced by Trump cronies who disrespect the rule of law and support authoritarian rule. Another four years of Trump, and the Department of Justice will no longer deserve its revered name.

—Former U.S. Attorney Barbara McQuade

A BIG TECH DÉTENTE

Trump understands that what TV was to John F. Kennedy, what radio was to Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Twitter is to him. These companies have done nothing but help him. And he loves the stock market, and the first trillion-dollar companies are all tech stocks. It’s going to be hard for him to punish them.

At the same time, he has a huge antipathy for people richer than himself and with more accomplishments than him. He will continue to go after Jeff Bezos, because it’s a personal, weird obsession he has with conflating Amazon and the Washington Post. As long as the Washington Post keeps pressing on the Trump administration, Bezos will be linked to that and he will suffer for that. There’s also the contention that the right has been misrepresented on these platforms and that they’re trying to quiet conservative voices. The question is: Will he seek to intervene in how they’re governed, even though it’s in his best interest to let them be?

And the companies will keep their heads in the sand. Don’t expect them to be brave on immigration or anything else. They’re not showing up at a rally in a MAGA hat, that’s for sure, but they certainly are not going to be doing anything to oppose him. Why should they? It’s been great for them.

—Kara Swisher

THE DEATH OF GLOBAL CLIMATE EFFORTS

Let’s start with a conservative estimate. Trump’s deregulatory environmental rampage completely stalls — rolling back no more protections against small-particulate pollutants or toxic carcinogens and nuking no more policies like the Clean Power Plan or parts of the Clean Water Act, but merely locking in the sadistic legacy of his first term — there will be as many as 80,000 additional American deaths over the course of the next decade. That’s roughly ten times as many as on D-Day, more than 20 times as many as on September 11, and almost 40 times the number of Japanese citizens who have died in the aftermath of the Fukushima nuclear meltdown. One million more Americans, The Journal of the American Medical Association reports, will suffer from respiratory illness.

Most presidents spend second terms trying to leave a lasting mark on foreign policy, and it is abroad where Trump’s environmental cruelty is likely to be felt most intensely. This is not just about the 2016 Paris accords, which technically Trump can only pull out of on November 5, the day after he’s reelected. In the meantime, he’s already fatally undermined them, along with like-minded sadists Prime Minister Scott Morrison of Australia and President Jair Bolsonaro of Brazil — a trio of world leaders who may come to be seen much more clearly, in a second term for Trump, as a climate axis of evil. In the latest round of post-Paris climate negotiations, the three countries spiked nearly every possibility of meaningful progress. If you add to the axis Vladimir Putin and his petrostate and Xi Jinping and his have-it-both-ways approach (building renewable farms alongside new coal fleets), the loose alliance of climate inaction accounts for more than half of all global emissions. That’s a very powerful veto.

It may sound glib and vacuously patriotic to say that the world needs American leadership, but the path of the last few years suggests, on climate at least, it is also distressingly true. That’s not because action within the U.S. is so important — the country is the second-biggest emitter, but responsible for only about 15 percent of the global total. It’s because, without American support, prospects for any coordinated international program seem distressingly dim. In Trump’s first term, the U.S. has dithered and, in part as a result, the rest of the world has, too — breaking emissions records in 2017, 2018, and 2019. This is not just because of Trump — or Morrison and Bolsonaro, Putin and Xi. It’s because even many self-styled global leaders on climate (Justin Trudeau and Emmanuel Macron) have merely paid lip service to climate action (while approving new oil pipelines and failing to pass carbon taxes, for instance). It is not just “ecofascists” peddling delay anymore, but climate hypocrites.

These leaders don’t look or talk like Trump, but they share a concerning, nationalistic climate logic: that leaders should emphasize the material benefits to their people first, with the understanding that, at least for the time being, calculations about climate policy made by nations individually may turn them away from the path that would benefit the world as a whole. If the next years are presided over by Trump, they will likely spell the further breakdown of the international alliances on which any truly global solution to this global problem would, theoretically, depend. Which means they may also break the hope, sustained now through decades of frustration, that global cooperation must be the path forward, and initiate instead a terrifying new go-it-alone era of climate suffering and disaster. Policymakers the world over may start to deemphasize the project of reducing emissions and instead begin preparing nation-by-nation assessments of how to live with climate change and all its terrible brutality. And we may find ourselves, on the ground, asking less and less often what global actors are on the side of angels, and more often simply who is on our side.

—David Wallace-Wells

MORE HUNGER

Trump doesn’t need Congress in order to cut benefits. As president, he controls federal agencies. Three proposed rule changes to the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program through the U.S. Department of Agriculture may ultimately take food stamps away from 3.7 million people. And SNAP isn’t the only welfare program on the line. Through the Centers for Medicaid and Medicare, the White House has already approved changes to state Medicaid programs that cost thousands of people their health care. That’s why West Virginia teacher Sam Yurick is disturbed by the prospect of Trump’s reelection. Many of Yurick’s students live in poverty and often miss school because of their living conditions. “When they do make it in, they have headaches from not eating or aren’t completely recovered,” he said. Trump boasts of his support in West Virginia, but if he gets four more years to slash welfare, Yurick’s students might get sicker. “The amount and quality of instruction will get eaten into more and more,” he said, “as we put more and more of our energies into making up for ways the world outside our classrooms has failed the kids we serve.”

—Sarah Jones

MAGA BUDGETS

When you look at the budget cuts he’s proposing for 2021, they’re going to disproportionately impact the black community and low-income people and the most vulnerable. His white-supremacy agenda is reflected in his new budget proposal, his birther attitude toward African-Americans especially. So do his cuts in foreign aid, for example, and on the development front. Those accounts specifically are there to provide development assistance to what he calls the “s—hole countries.” Those are countries where you have majority people of color. It’s almost Make America White Again in terms of his budget cuts. I worry that people of color, African-Americans, the most vulnerable, will unfortunately be forced to pay the price for his outlandish policies.

—Representative Barbara Lee

SILLY TELEVISION

No one wants to watch excruciating, serious dramas when everything seems terrible. The TV we talk about the most in 2020 already reflects a shift from the bleak prestige projects of the Obama era toward trashy, middlebrow escapism like You, The Witcher, and 90 Day Fiancé, or the Middlebrow-in- prestige-drag tentpole The Morning Show on Apple TV+. Or they’re shows like Evil or Dickinson, which package niche weirdness inside fluffy-looking, silly exteriors. Even a show like Succession — with pitch-black terrifying nihilism at its center — is palatable because it’s so magnetically fun. Already, only a few hyperserious shows a year crest into mainstream awareness (When They See Us, Chernobyl). In a second term of Trump, there’ll be even less cultural bandwidth for dire self-reflection. We’ll see more social-experiment reality shows in which people do ridiculous things for love, more shows with bards and elves, and somehow even more superheroes. As the world swings toward catastrophe, TV will be doing its best to be a countervailing force, desperately swinging the pendulum back toward light, undemanding delights.

—Kathryn VanArendonk

A DEMOCRATIC PARTY IN REVOLT

Analyses suggest Trump could lose the popular vote by as many as 5 million, or potentially even more, and still win the Electoral College. (The Electoral College doesn’t care that you almost won Texas; it only cares that you lost Wisconsin.) Just to think about this for a second, if Trump wins the Electoral College while losing the popular vote, that would mean that, since Bush’s very contested, strange Electoral College win in 2000, fully half of presidential elections will have gone to the loser of the popular vote and the winner of the Electoral College, and, in each case, to a Republican. If this happens, if a younger, more urban, more diverse majority keeps growing but finds itself locked out of political power, there will be a backlash on the left against the legitimacy of a system that it feels, correctly, does not represent it and does not give it a fair shake. The scary thing is not just that the electoral geography is not reflecting the popular vote but that the party that is winning despite losing the popular vote realizes its only path to sustaining power is disenfranchisement. And that party begins passing more rules — from voter-ID laws to gerrymandering efforts to things like Citizens United — that build the power it fears it would lose and make it harder for the emergent popular-vote majority to express itself.

—Ezra Klein

A MORE VULNERABLE ELECTORAL COLLEGE

Recognizing that getting approval of a constitutional amendment to switch to the popular vote would be an extremely difficult and lengthy process, the National Popular Vote Initiative, begun in 2006, aims to circumvent the Electoral College by getting enough states to collectively carry the 270 electoral votes needed to win the presidency to agree to cast them all for the national-popular-vote winner. What once looked quixotic is beginning to seem possible and may only become more so. Fifteen states and the District of Columbia, with a total of 196 electoral votes, have already joined the initiative, and another Trump win despite a loss in the popular vote could give it the momentum to get over the hump.

“Every year,” says National Popular Vote chair John Koza, “we add a state or two, and that’s what we plan to keep doing from now until it becomes law.” If not 2021, then 2023, after a likely strong second-midterm backlash against a Trump presidency, could be the year: All it would take is for Texas, Pennsylvania, Virginia, and Minnesota to sign on.

—Ed Kilgore

NUCLEAR BRINKMANSHIP

Trump seems poised to allow the last of the deals limiting U.S. and Russian arsenals, the New START Treaty, to expire in 2021. Meanwhile, his defense team is eager to build several types of new nuclear weapons on top of the estimated 6,185 we already have (second only to Russia’s total). The just unveiled federal budget would bring spending for maintaining and developing nuclear warheads 50 percent above its level when Trump took office. Trump has spoken eagerly about resuming nuclear testing, which the U.S. has not done since George H.W. Bush, though we are still contending with the health and environmental consequences. That might well open a rush of other nations following suit.

North Korea, meanwhile, is very likely to achieve a missile that can reliably deliver a nuclear warhead to the East Coast during a second Trump term — even as it grows its arsenal. It increasingly looks as if a second Trump term would also see Iran restart its program full speed. Those two events, plus Trump’s threats to withdraw U.S. nuclear deterrence from our allies, has voices in Germany, Japan, South Korea, Saudi Arabia, and Turkey — among others — saying their countries should get their own weapons. Those who believe a world with more nuclear powers is more stable would get a chance to see their theory play out. So would the rest of us.

—Heather Hurlburt

EXTRAORDINARY STRESS

In the past four years, I saw people in my clinical practice experiencing a level of anxiety specific to the political climate that we really hadn’t seen before. It’s why I started writing about “Trump anxiety disorder.” The American Psychological Association does a “Stress in America” survey, and the 2019 one had 62 percent of American adults citing the current political climate as a source of stress, which has gone up since Trump took office. It’s not unlike a child living in a home that’s chaotic; we don’t have faith in the leaders we have historically put trust in, and that’s creating a lot of trauma. If Trump does get reelected, we’ll see a spike in this feeling of fear like we haven’t seen before. People will have to come to terms with the prospect of another four years of trying to keep up the fight. We can feel anxious for only so long, because anxiety is exhausting, and eventually that fatigue could transform into depression and leave us feeling really helpless. All of that could lead to more civil unrest or unhealthy behaviors such as drinking and emotional eating — people trying to deal with the stress in any way they can.

—Dr. Jennifer Panning

RED-STATE ENTERTAINMENT

Expect more fumbling studio attempts to reach a red-state demographic. The trouble is that no one on either side of the political spectrum seems able to agree on what a conservative movie looks like. Consider the box-office failure of Richard Jewell, which looked from afar like a surefire appeal to the resentful quadrant: a movie in which cackling media hordes descend upon and destroy the life of an innocent white man, made by a seeming stalwart like Clint Eastwood. It has proved easier to stir up right-wing outrage against a release, as demonstrated by the baffling furor that bumped the thriller The Hunt, sneering liberal villains and all, from the schedule last year. Look for studios to steer into tried-and-true territory, investing more in faith-based films like Breakthrough (the reason Chrissy Metz sang that song at the Oscars) and rah-rah war movies (because who could get mad at 1917?). But also be ready for more ex–Trump staffers to be anointed with normalization by way of reality-competition shows, along with the second coming of Mel Gibson, who has basically been welcomed back into the fold with his already-in-the-works follow-up to The Passion of the Christ.

—Alison Willmore

ESCALATING TRADE WARS

Trump will get more out of the box on economic policy, and 2021 will be his big chance to take the fight to China. This year’s “Phase One” trade agreement was a pause in hostilities to avoid preelection economic damage, but after he has won, he’ll be free to impose more tariffs and further impede global trade without fear of immediate electoral consequences from the economic drag those actions will cause.

If Trump cranks up the trade war, he will need more help from the Federal Reserve, cutting interest rates to offset the economic damage it causes. So you can expect Trump to replace Fed chairman Jay Powell — whom he has called naïve and a “bonehead” who is “like a golfer who can’t putt” and whom he “maybe” regrets appointing to the job in the first place — with a more loyal leader who is more likely to cut interest rates when Trump wants them cut.

In Trump’s second term, maybe a financial crisis or an energy crisis or a geopolitical crisis will drag down the U.S. economy. Or maybe fundamentals will shift so that his favorite economic tools don’t work anymore — maybe big deficits will slow the economy or low interest rates will push up inflation. But if I had to guess, I’d say economic performance in Trump’s second term would probably be similar to the first. The pattern since Trump’s election is his pursuit of output-boosting policy in two key areas: fiscal (cutting taxes while growing spending) and monetary (pushing for lower interest rates). Expansionary policy in these areas can cover up a lot of sins, such as an expanded trade war.

—Josh Barro

AND ESCALATING SELF-DEALINGS

A month after Trump’s inauguration, his sons Don Jr. and Eric laid out an ambitious plan for the future of their father’s real-estate and branding empire. In a front-page article in the New York Times, accompanied by a photo of the two posed authoritatively at a shiny boardroom table, they touted developments under way in Vancouver and Dubai and a new domestic hotel chain called Scion, which Eric said would be focused on “trendy” cities like Austin.

The Scion chain never went anywhere after its first reported location attracted resistance-led street protests. A second expansion plan, for a heartland-based budget chain called American Idea, also imploded, and the Trumps’ partner in the project was charged last year with stealing luggage from an airport baggage turnstile. Many of the family’s overseas partners have been revealed to have unsavory pasts, and Trump’s own behavior as president has turned his brand toxic.

But Trump’s reelection could serve as an adrenaline shot to his moribund company. “I think Trump unleashed in a second term,” says Andrea Bernstein, author of a book about the Trump family business, American Oligarchs, “means he continues to find ways to get people to pay him, and that becomes turbocharged.” Bernstein points out that, so far, the financial bright spot in the Trump Organization’s portfolio has been the place that most baldly trades in influence: the Trump International Hotel in Washington, D.C. (With an uncertain election on the horizon, the company is reportedly trying to cash in by selling the hotel for as much as $500 million.) Trump has also sought to capitalize by selling access to his private club in Mar-a-Lago — which doubled the joining fee to $200,000 after he was elected — and only fierce criticism from key Republicans kept him from staging the next G7 summit at his ailing golf resort in Doral, Florida. Look for that brand of audacity to be deployed more creatively after 2020.

The most obvious direction for the Trump Organization to expand would be overseas. In a raucous press conference before he was inaugurated, Trump promised he would do “no new foreign deals,” but the pledge was purely voluntary. For now, it may be that the Trump family has discovered a more lucrative line of business. Hundreds of millions of dollars in donations flow through political campaigns, creating an immense opportunity for consultants and fund-raisers — not to mention hoteliers and caterers. “The business of Trump in the next year is the business of getting Trump reelected,” Bernstein says. “It is an incredible money machine.”

-Andrew Rice

A GENERATION OF JUDGES

In just three years, Trump has already filled 51 vacancies on U.S. Courts of Appeals, the “circuits” that provide much of the guidance federal trial judges utilize. His appointees now represent more than one-fourth of appeals-court judges, and he has succeeded in “flipping” three of the 13 circuits from Democratic-appointed majorities to Republican-appointed majorities. This administration has installed 135 district-court judges and is on pace to significantly exceed Obama’s 268 in much less time — if Trump is reelected and Republicans hold on to the Senate (which they are likely to do in most “Trump wins” scenarios).

Trump’s judicial counterrevolution could happen most decisively in the Supreme Court. He quickly exploited two openings on SCOTUS, and, in a second Trump term, the odds of court liberals Ruth Bader Ginsburg (who will turn 87 this year and was recently treated for pancreatic cancer) and Stephen Breyer (who will be 82 this summer) hanging on until the next Democratic administration will go down significantly. One more flip of a liberal seat on the Court could produce a landmark conservative era in constitutional law, almost certainly including the reversal or significant modification of Roe v. Wade and other key precedents, not to mention a decisive new era of sympathy for corporations, reactionary state governments, nativists, vote suppressors, and foes of civil liberties. Names reportedly on Trump’s short list include Kavanaugh runner-up and Seventh Circuit judge Amy Coney Barrett, a favorite of hard-core cultural conservatives; Sixth Circuit judge Joan Larsen, who is viewed as hostile to LGBTQ rights; another Sixth Circuit judge, Amul Thapar, a Kentuckian who is close to Mitch McConnell; and Tenth Circuit judge Allison Eid, a former Clarence Thomas clerk. The relatively diverse nature of this group reflects the feeling that three white men in a row might be a bit much.

—Ed Kilgore

A CRISIS OF FAITH

“The fact is, no President has ever done what I have done for Evangelicals, or religion itself!,” Donald Trump tweeted last year. A dubious claim, but it could come true — just not in the way he thinks. His alliance with white born-again Christians helped make him president. It may also help end American Evangelicalism as we know it.

Trump is unpopular with America’s youngest adults in a moment when Evangelical Christianity is desperate for young members. Last May, Christianity Today — the same publication whose editor called for Trump’s impeachment and inspired that defensive presidential tweet — reported that merely half of all children raised Southern Baptist stay Southern Baptist as adults. The politically conservative, mostly white denomination isn’t winning enough souls to make up its losses, either. Overall membership in the Southern Baptist Convention hit a 30-year low in 2018.

Southern Baptists aren’t the only Protestants with shrinking churches; liberal traditions are losing young members too. But the values held by young adults are at odds with those behind the political goals of white Evangelicalism. According to one Associated Press poll, young adults are more likely than members of any other age group to say they disapprove of Trump. For white Evangelicals, Trump may prove a Moloch, an idol who devours the young in exchange for his favors.

—Sarah Jones

THE WALL, ABANDONED

By the time he exits the office, the president has said he wants a 1,000-mile structure along the border, an ambitious goal considering that U.S. Customs and Border Protection has only completed 100 miles in the past three years — around 90 miles of which serve as replacement for run-down barriers already in the ground. Though Trump has permanently altered legal immigration to the U.S. through his travel ban and nativist policies like restricting immigrant access to safety-net programs, a finished wall along the 1,954-mile southern border will not be an enduring piece of the administration’s legacy for a simple reason: It will not get done. According to construction-cost estimator Ed Zarenski, it’s just unfeasible to build such a substantial structure in such harsh, remote territory. At his low-end estimate of $22 billion, it would take 10,000 workers 11 years to build 1,000 miles of steel-slat barrier. “But you might not be able to get concrete trucks to deliver to such faraway sites,” he explains, “meaning the contractors would have to build plants along the way. That is unlikely to happen. Another practical concern: “Where do these men stay overnight? That cost isn’t built into any estimates, and there aren’t hotels along this 1,000-mile corridor for people to stay in.” These infrastructural problems don’t address the apparent quality of the barrier. Despite Trump’s claim that “this wall is not something that can be really knocked down,” in January a strong gust of wind toppled newly settled panels in Southern California. “I can’t believe that an engineer designed what photos show them using for foundations on that wall,” Zarenski says. “They’ve taken a lot of liberties in how things are getting built to get it done as cheaply as they can.” The current taxpayer cost for the wall sits at $18.4 billion.

—Matt Stieb

'DON JR. 2024'

If social media seems particularly vitriolic, deceptive, and stupid in 2020, wait until 2024. The top executives at platforms like Facebook and Twitter have already demonstrated a willingness to bend backward to satisfy baseless Republican accusations of suppression; just as the news media found itself bullied into false equivalencies by charges of bias at the end of the 20th century, social media will feel obligated to give conservatives more leeway in what they post. One particular beneficiary of this will be Donald Trump Jr., who already has an Instagram account with 2.4 million followers and a Twitter account with 4.4 million followers — both larger than any current Democratic presidential candidate besides Bernie Sanders — to which he posts unbelievably popular jokes, memes, and complaints. Newly empowered by his father’s victory in 2020, Don Jr.’s online presence will only get louder.

But Don Jr. isn’t just shitposting on Instagram. He’s building a political base for himself. President Trump will not run for a third term in 2024, less for any particular legal reasons (by then, his party would have an inescapable Supreme Court majority), than because he’ll be turning 78 and will be exhausted from another four years of security briefings and Cabinet meetings that take him away from his true vocation: watching and tweeting about cable news programs. What reason would he have to continue in a job he hates, especially if he could garner nearly all the benefits of the presidency — the graft, the platform, the attention — by handing the job off to someone tied closely to him? Like, say, his son?

Don Jr., among his father’s most energetic and devoted surrogates, is already highly popular in the Republican Party. He has openly speculated about running for governor of New York, but more recently he’s said to be considering a run in a more Trump-friendly state in the Mountain West. (Some allies have reportedly pushed Don Jr. for chairmanship of the RNC.) An Axios–Survey Monkey poll from December found that 29 percent of Republicans already would consider voting for Donald Trump Jr. in the 2024 election. That’s nearly double the support for his more polished sister, Ivanka, and behind only Vice-President Pence. Assuming enough of Trumpism’s senior-citizen base is still alive, Don Jr. could sail to the presidency or at least face off in a fiery run against Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. Trump Senior, meanwhile, could keep tweeting about politics to his heart’s content.

—Max Read

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*This article appears in the February 17, 2020, issue of New York Magazine. Subscribe Now!

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