#i just need some time to hopefully return to my mindset of drawing only for myself and not caring about how much attention it gets. because

[nonuggetshere]

Hey, if you need to take a Hiatus then you do you, Boo. Go for it. Those of us who truly love your art and storytelling for the amazing pieces of work that it is will be here when you come back from your hole. 🫡💗 Take care.

🥺 thank you, it means a lot! It's amazing to me that there are people who like what I create, it means the world to me

I don't wanna get too much into it because I'm not the type to talk about my problems online, but occasionally as of late I'll have these funks where I'll compare myself to others and feel bad about how little attention my art is getting. So I need to take a small break to just draw for myself for a while, but once I return I will have A LOT of art to show that's for sure

[astaroth1357]

Leviathan's Odyssey 9 (End):

Isolation

*Lucifer is in the Student Council room collecting paperwork when he hears his phone go off… It seems like Barbatos is messaging him yet again... For the third time this week. Though he dreads whatever news it brings, Lucifer checks his messenger and lets out a long sigh when he gets his confirmation*

*Levi was sent home early… again. He hasn’t been present for a full day of classes in nearly a week and Barbatos is beginning to get on Lucifer’s case about it… Diavolo placed a lot of trust in the eldest to bring his brother under control, but it hasn’t exactly been very successful and his butler sees no problem with applying the pressure in his lord’s stead. Though he wouldn’t call this latest message a threat of expulsion, he can sense they’re getting dangerously close…* 

*normally, Lucifer would wait for the day to finish himself before returning to the House and giving Levi a lecture, but that approach hasn’t been faring well… Though he loathes to be absent, who knows what trouble his brothers could get in, he sends his response to Barbs and goes to collect his things. He has been thinking up a few solutions to the “Leviathan Problem” and it’s about time he started enacting some, but first he needs to do some shopping*

*it isn’t hard for Lucifer to find what he was looking for in the shopping district and he makes it back to the House about an hour before classes would officially end. He already knows where Levi would be, he’s been nothing is not predictable since he first came home with them... In many ways, he still has the mindset of a combat survivalist. He quickly grew territorial of the room they gave him, he tries to grab as much food as possible at meals, and every new person or situation is treated with hostile skepticism... Their brother may be home, but he certainly isn’t “back." Not yet anyway...*

*when Lucifer ascends the steps to go to Leviathan’s room, he tries knocking on the door first. Levi had taken to making ridiculous entry passwords again, an encouraging sign, but that was mostly because Lucifer forbade him from issuing trial by combat to newcomers… Unfortunately, today there wasn’t any voice on the other side… Lifting the lock on the door is child’s play with just a little magic, so after giving his brother ample time to say something, Lucifer opens the door himself*

Lucifer: Leviathan? *he pokes his head in with a bit of caution, Levi could still be quick to lash out if caught off guard*

*Lucifer’s eyes scan the dimly lit room, with only the soft blue glow of the water tank behind a glass wall offering him any light. They discovered quickly that Levi’s skin would dry out at an alarming rate without some access to water. Their first fix was to give his room a bathtub that he could soak in, but due to its narrow size Lucifer eventually had an aquarium installed for him instead. He could climb in and out from a gap near the ceiling and it had more room for him to move around freely. That seemed to resolve the issue, but Levi still remained fond enough of the bathtub to keep it around*

*he half expected to find his brother in said tub, back to the doorway and trying to ignore him, but instead he sees a black figure curled up at the bottom of the water tank. He recognizes Levi, even in his newest form - or at least the form that they taught to him once he was on dry land. While in the ocean, Levi never needed to be rid of his gills or scales, they were practical for swimming but not so much for daily life. His new form kept his tail, horns, and patch of scales here and there, but it mostly allows him to pass as an average demon. He can maintain an even milder appearance without any of the extras, but he doesn’t seem to like it as much… He always complains of feeling “too small” without his tail*

*Lucifer steps into the room and closes the door behind him. Under all of that water, Levi probably didn’t hear him knock… Or maybe he did and didn’t feel like answering. He found it hard to pinpoint just what his brother could or couldn’t do anymore… When he gets into the room, he sets a white grocery bag he had been carrying on a nearby table. He’ll have to bring up its contents at the right time… He needs to speak to Levi first.* 

*Lucifer goes to the glass wall and gently knocks his knuckles against it. The black bundle in the water stirs and Lucifer watches as Levi's tail slowly begins to unravel from his body... Soon enough, he’s looking his brother in the face but he doesn’t look very happy to see him… He rarely looks happy to see anyone frankly…*

*Lucifer points up to the edge of the tank and gestures to his ear, signaling that they need to talk. He’s almost surprised at how easily Levi obliges this time, pushing off of the aquarium floor and swimming up until he’s above the surface. After taking a gulp of air, he leans over the edge of the glass - seemingly unbothered by the droplets of water that cascade to the floor.*

Levi: What do you want, Lucifer?

*Lucifer tries his best to look stern, but not overly angry. Though Levi is far less dangerous inland than he was by the ocean’s shore, he’s no less irritable... If this conversation is going to happen, he’s going to need to keep his composure for a while longer*

Lucifer: Barbatos informed me of what happened today… 

Levi: And?

Lucifer: Annnd, we’ve already been over this, Levi… You can’t keep stabbing your fellow students with forks. 

Levi: If you gave me my trident back, then I wouldn’t need to use them.

*Lucifer groans a bit and fights the urge to rub the bridge of his nose… Of course he’s in a mood again…*

Lucifer: Don’t play games with me, Levi… You know what the real problem is here.

Levi: Yeah, it’s the stupid school! I hate going there...

Lucifer: Levi, Lord Diavolo was very gracious to offer you a place in his academy and a seat on the student council, no less. And being one of his military officers now also puts you in a position of great importance... Your actions reflect on him and his kingdom as whole-

Levi: I know all that already, I heard you the first time! *Levi leans his chin against the edge of the glass, but still doesn’t look any happier. To his credit, he has been trying to yell at his brothers less... So it’s not too surprising to hear his voice suddenly drop down to solemn whisper*

Levi: … You know what everybody calls me there? The “Fish Freak...” They say I smell like a beached whale… *Lucifer blinks at the revelation, because this is news to him*

Lucifer: Is that so…?

Levi: Everyday. And you know what else? They trip me in the hallway or throw my things in the fountain. Somebody even left a dead squid on my desk! *a familiar look comes into his eyes now, one burning of hatred - but this time not directed at brothers...*

Levi: They’re lucky I only have forks right now...

*a part of Lucifer wants to be fine with Levi sticking up for himself… The Demon World is a cruel and harsh place where intimidation is often the best answer. He and his brothers had to learn that the hard way… But Diavolo’s goals are peace and unity - the academy was even founded with that in mind… His students should be shying away from such barbaric tactics and the council has an example to set… As much as it pains him to say it, Levi’s actions are unacceptable…*

Lucifer: Tell me the students’ names and I’ll have them punished. I guarantee you that... *takes a deep breath to prepare for what he must say next…*

Lucifer: … But you can’t keep causing trouble like this, Leviathan. Lord Diavolo has a strict code of-

*Lucifer watches as Levi groans and lifts his head off the glass, though this time he looks more frustrated than enraged*

Levi: There you go again! Diavolo this and Diavolo that!! Don’t you ever think of anything else??

Lucifer: That’s Lord Diavolo to you, and of course I do. But this isn’t the Celestial Realm anymore, Levi, and we need to adapt to his rules. *Levi’s eyes narrow at him, seeing an opportunity to dig in the knife…*

Levi: There’s adapting and then there’s ass-kissing... Which are you doing, Lucifer?

*and like that, for just a moment, Lucifer wants to abandon the whole project. He wants to leave Levi to wallow in his tank and go back to more important matters... He wants to throw his gifts into the garbage and just forget he ever bought them! His anger must have been plain to see, because Levi looks almost regretful for a second as he pushes back from the glass*

Levi: … Yeah. I didn’t think so.

*with that, Lucifer watches his brother sink back underwater and return to the floor of his aquarium. He honestly has half a mind to just turn and walk away, at least until he sees Levi curl up on his side against the store bought sand. He draws legs into the fetal position and faces his back the glass wall, letting his tail once again curl around his body as he goes back to laying in the water… alone…*

*the lonely image is enough to bring Lucifer back to some sense… Had he really forgotten why he was there so easy? With a steadier mind, he gently places a gloved hand against the surface of the glass, watching Levi from behind the wall between them…*

*his brother fell from Heaven then had to survive on his own… when he came back, he not only found out that his family had been living like royalty, but they hadn’t even been out looking for him in a long time… Now he’s been ripped from the home he’d grown accustomed to and thrust into a culture he barely understood…*

*Was it any wonder he was struggling? Was it any better for him in the Devildom than it was beneath the sea? Would it have been better to just let him stay where he was comfortable…? These thoughts have plagued Lucifer for some time, but he wouldn’t dare break up his family now…* 

*Maybe... Hopefully… Levi just needs an outlet to help him cope...*

*Lucifer knocks on the glass a second time, but it’s not an angry pounding or anything. Levi must not have expected that, because he actually looks back at him in mild surprise. Lucifer signals once more for him to get out of the water before stepping aside to grab the grocery bag from before. Intrigued, but cautious, Levi swims back up to the surface and pulls himself up to the edge*

Levi: … What’s that?

Lucifer: Something I bought for you. *Lucifer picks up the bag and goes back to the tank. Levi’s eyes widen slightly with shock*

Levi: You bought something… for me?? Why?

Lucifer: It’s something that I think you’ll like… I’m told it’s very entertaining and hopefully it has all the… violence that you’ve grown accustomed to... 

*he digs into the bag and pulls out two things, a DVD box-set of something called “My Life as a Demonic Pirate Defeating the Seven Lords of Hell” and a paperback book with a cute looking mermaid on the cover under the same title*

Lucifer: Levi. Have you ever heard of something called anime?

Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

[adorethedistance]

British. Handsome. Charming. - Harry Styles x Reader Retail!AU

Sorta requested.

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive situations, I say titties like once

Words: 2108

Summary: When your coworker calls out and leaves you alone for a graveyard shift, you unintentionally enlist the help of a certain British, handsome, and charming retail employee from next door.

A/N: Hello this is my piece for @meetmeinfleetwood​ ‘s “to lovers” fic challenge! I put my ‘to lovers’ trope as Coworkers Harry and Y/n but I’m kind of riffing off of that trope because I wanted to do employees at different stores in the same section of the mall.

“So, Ziva just called out...” I hear my manager Kelly break the news from behind me. A groan threatens to escape my lungs but I fight the urge as best as possible to save face in front of customers. This is the third time Ziva’s called out of her graveyard shift in the past two weeks. Tonight, we were supposed to unpack the new shipment of holiday tees, gag gifts, and decorations. On a normal night, I can handle floor set by myself, but the added challenge of holiday items and displays is a different story.

“If I take another lunch right now, I can stay and help with the floor set.”

“No,” I wave her off, already dreading the exhaustion that is bound to set in, “Go home. You’ve already done your full eight, I can fly solo for tonight.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go before I regret letting you!” Kelly smiles with the tip of her tongue peaking through her teeth. She thanks me for freeing her and I finish straightening the last of the yellow champion hoodies on the rack in front of me.

“The boxes are on the left side in the backroom.” Backroom… got it.

Working at Tilly’s was supposed to be my high school job. At the end of Junior year, I opted for a minimum wage position to earn some extra spending money. If I’d known I would be attending the most local university in this godforsaken town, I would’ve picked a better gig; one that pays more. Or at least one that doesn’t schedule me from 7:30PM to 3AM.

The store closes at ten but the other four ish hours are for rearranging the entire floor layout. I have to redistribute the table full of graphic tees strategically around the store to make room for the holiday items we just received. With someone else’s help I could expect to be finished by 12:30. Maybe 1. Ziva calling out wasn’t part of the plan however, so I don’t expect to be finished early at all. If anything, I might have to rush to finish before my shift ends.

Not to mention I have a prose analysis final draft due tomorrow by midnight. Ziva better have some damn good excuses when she gets back.

Readjusting the waistband of my favorite jeans against my body, I head to the dressing rooms to double check for any stragglers. Upon finding myself alone, I go lock the front doors and flick off the glowing “open” sign in the front window. Hopefully time will fly faster than it has since I got here. I should’ve asked Kelly to grab me a coffee or a coke to get me through the rest of the shift. Maybe I should do some coke to get me through the rest of the shift.

Okay. What did Kelly say?

Backroom... Was that all? I hesitantly prop the storeroom’s door with the small, tan, rubber wedge before trying to take in the overwhelming mess of the backroom. The room has painfully bright overhead LED lights illuminating my path; the brightness is mirrored off the polished concrete floors under my feet. Considering there’s no holiday bullshit directly in front of me, Kelly must have given me more directions than just ‘backroom’. Graphic tees, sunglasses, jewelry. Nothing.

In my most goddamn genius idea yet, I search the top of the self of the storeroom to see the holiday boxes sealed and intact. Lovely. I can graze the surface of the top shelf with my fingertips just enough to get them dusty, but not enough to pull down any boxes.

Fuck.

This is what we have a ladder for, but we lent it out to the Zara next door. I don’t know what time they close but intuition tells me it's soon. Figuring I have nothing to lose, I dash out of the back room and unlock the front door to round the corner into Zara. Right as I exit the store, I run into someone hard enough to lose my balance, but not hard enough to take the other person down, thank god.

“Woahhh, you alright there?” British.

I look up to the face of the person I collided with. Handsome.

“I’m so sorry, I need to get to Zara.”

“I’m afraid you’re too late for that.” The handsome stranger’s statement catches me off guard and the fog of my rushed mindset disappears. Charming.

“What?”

“Jus’ locked up, I’m afraid.” I look at the completely dark storefront, and then back at the stranger. His gleaming green eyes catch mine and, cliché-ly, I’m rendered breathless by the exquisite nature of his face. Employee.

“You work at Zara,” I state dumbly.

“That, I do. And you work…?” Dropping my eyes to my worn work shoes, I’m suddenly overwhelmingly shy about working at Tilly’s.

“Tilly’s, next door. We lent you guys our step ladder and I need it back.”

“Shit,” the man smiles softly, nervously scratching the back of his neck. “I have the key to the store, but I don’t have the key to the supply closet where we kept it.”

“Dammit.” When I pull out my phone to check the time, I groan at the loss of another ten minutes. “By any chance do you guys conveniently have a step ladder that isn’t in an inaccessible closet?” The beautiful man laughs at my question and shakes his head no.

“We don’t, but I am pretty tall, maybe I could help?”

“You’re not that tall.”

“Taller than you.” My teasing is cut short by the man’s quip and I lead him into the store with conviction.

“Basically, I’m supposed to reconfigure the entire floor layout around the table for all the holiday merch, and the shipment came in but someone brilliantly placed them on the top shelf of the back room.”

“Which is why you need the step ladder from the closet that I can’t open. Gotcha.”

“If you could just get those three boxes from the top shelf right there that’d be wonderful.” After clocking the boxes in question, he nods wordlessly, and slips off his nice coat, no doubt a piece from the store next door. Underneath, he’s wearing a grey button up of which he begins rolling up the sleeves to. The action made me stop breathing for a second. His forearms are littered with tattoos of various drawings, one in particular catching my eye.

It’s a two dimensional mermaid figure with no seashell-bra, her skin transitioning into scales only after exposing her pubic bone. In the fluorescent lighting of the store, it’s clear as day that this is quite possibly the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. What’s he doing working at an outlet mall?

Zoning back in, I see he’s already hard at work. With a box no doubt full of gag gifts on his shoulder, he speaks again.

“I’m Harry by the way.”

I return the gesture and he smiles when he hears my name.

“Pretty.”

Returning his attention to the second box, he reaches up to slide the box closer to the edge of the shelf. When he does so, the hem of his grey shirt rides up to reveal a tiny strip of his toned abdomen, where two mirrored stems of fern leaves are tattooed in strikingly black ink.

I blink quickly a few times to redirect my focus, and divert my attention to the floor where he’s set the first box. This leads me to notice the brown suede chelsea boots he’s wearing. Black coat, grey shirt, brown shoes. Interesting.

“Oh shit!” I hear him mutter in a hushed voice. Looking up to the top of the shelf, I see that the last box has already been opened. Harry is balancing it between both limbs, his shoulder, and his head, but any movement would cause the contents of the box to fall out.

I rush forward to help. Moving the flaps of the box back over the top, I reach across Harry’s body to move them. Then, to keep them shut I place one palm on top of the seam, and use the other hand to support the bottom of the box. It isn’t until I stop moving that I notice the position I’ve put us in. I’m reaching up as far as I can to secure the top of the box which has placed the entire front side of my body to the back of his. I’m painfully aware of how my hips are pressed against his ass, and he must be painfully aware of the way my titties are pressed against his upper back.

“I’m gonna move backwards so it’s off the shelf. Just hold the top in place until I have it right side up again, yea?” I nod dumbly in response before realizing he can’t see me.

“Yeah, got it.” And with that he begins to back up little by little, moving at a pace slow enough for me to consistently adjust. The box is almost intact, but I’ve run out of space from standing behind Harry, and I have to maneuver myself around him whilst keeping the box shut. I cringe before doing what I have to do, and shuffling around the side of Harry’s body, my frontside pressed against him the entire time.

Finally, it’s over and we can set the box down on top of the other two. Harry stands up straight again and dusts off his hands. He adjusts his jeans, pulling them back up his hips, and I have to keep myself from staring once more.

“Anythin’ else I can do for you?”

“I don’t think so? That’s pretty much all the heavy lifting I have to do tonight.” He nods understandingly and… dare I say disappointed? I’m probably just projecting.

“Are you alone tonight?”

“Yeah, my coworker called out, but it’s fine. My boss Kelly got most of the work done earlier when she unpacked a lot of the boxes and folded the shirts into piles, so…”

“I could help.”

“You don’t need to do that. You’re already off and I’m sure you’re exhausted and-”

“I want to.” I guess I wasn’t projecting.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. That way you can go home earlier.” His smile is soft and lopsided until we connect eyes, in which case it brightens to reveal his pearly teeth. I fall shy under his gaze and avert my eyes to the concrete floor below us. My cheeks are radiating at about 1000° and I hope he doesn’t notice.

“Thank you,” I say, more flustered than I would have liked. Why am I getting so nervous? He’s just a retail employee at Zara.

A gorgeous employee at Zara.

“I don’t mind staying back... Spending more time with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Since I already know what you do for a living, what are your hobbies?” He ignores my question.

“I don’t have much time for hobbies. I’m only part-time while I’m in uni.”

“No way, what are you studying?”

I proceed to tell Harry all about my major and my career aspirations post-graduation and post-retail. I enjoy telling people about my dreams and yet, Harry’s the first person I’ve met in a long time that’s shown any interest in me and my dreams. The way he nods attentively despite having to fold misconstrued t-shirts and holiday sweaters, ignites a fire in my stomach that warms my heart. They way he asks hyper specific, prompting questions to learn more about my plans contrasts the fire inside me by sending chills down my spine.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What are your dreams?” Harry stops folding for a moment and exhales a conflicted sigh.

“I’m not too sure at the moment. I’m content at Zara for the moment, and I haven’t decided what’s next. I do write music though.”

“You do?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“What kind of music?” He stops to think again, a bit less conflicted than before.

“It’s like, indie-folk-pop-rock ish.”

“Indie-folk-pop-rock ish?” I can’t contain the laughter spilling from my lips over the mountain of folded t-shirts.

“Yeah. A good bit of variety, really.”

“Well, it’s nice you have something to be passionate about.”

“Judging by how you talked about your dreams for an hour, I wouldn’t say I’m as passionate as you are about your studies.”

“Passion isn’t a competition. It’s what moves you forward as an individual.” It’s Harry’s turn to laugh at me.

“Okay, Gandhi.”

“Hush! I’m allowed to be philosophical.” His laugh draws into a closed-mouth smile, from humor to an adoration of sorts.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” I unintentionally mirror his affectionate smile.

“Promise?”

***

A/N: This was absolutely one of those fics that, the longer I stared at it, the more I hated it and cut it down so here’s what’s remaining before I destroyed the whole thing. It’s def a puff piece and not an in depth fic but nuance is not my friend right now so, sorry about it :(

Taglist: @curlybrownhairedboys​ @meetmeinfleetwood​

[memes-in-a-half-shell]

Personalities

Guess I’ve never really did one post like this one, but I wanted to list out how I envision the guys to be like, generally. My creativity has been going down the drain lately, so hopefully that’ll boost me up a bit !

-- Leo --

Leo gives out that tough, serious vibe, mostly because he’s the leader and wants to show that he’s in control.

...

But in general, that dude does like to laugh and have some fun!

Don’t worry though, he knows when he has to be serious!!!! ... At some points he just has to relax, you know?

A Man of Culture ™ , he owns some bonsai trees and loves to meditate so he can have a clearer mind. Tranquility is his way to recharge his batteries (yes, I do see him as an ambivert, with a strong introvert side).

 A comic books fan, shares that passion with Mikey! He’s more of a Marvel fan, personally - some of his favorites are Spider-Man, Black Panther, Captain America, and probably a bunch of others).

Anger and strong emotions can hinder his leading choices. Anxiety rises in him, which can cloud his thoughts, but he’s working hard on that (and he’s kinda good at hiding his panic, generally).

Even if he doesn’t say it often - he does love spending time with his brothers! Watching basketball matches is definitely a must for those four.

A Leo in love is a smiling Leo. A true gentleman, he can turn into quite the passionate lover when alone with his s/o. He’s not much a fan of PDA, but his s/o shouldn’t worry much about that as the affection is multiplied tenfold later on.

Actually has a good singing voice, but he would prefer to die than to let people know.

Values Splinter’s opinion highly and often goes to him for guidance about many things - mostly regarding his leadership.

It’s a bit hard for him to let new people enter his life, since he’s scared for his family to be discovered and out in the open by any means possible, but he’s slowly starting to trust his instincts and his brothers’, knowing when it’s safe to let certain people in their world or not.

He’s an avid reader. Has a preference for classic litterature, but also enjoys horror, crime stories, and a bit of romance (if he really feels like it).

-- Raph --

Sir Raph bitchinson is in DAH HOUSE.

He’s not afraid to speak up and call out anything wrong in this household.

He and Donnie love to gossip and bitch around - you can’t change my mind. But they do that in secret though (wouldn’t want to hurt people with their judgements!!!)

Can be pretty much eloquent, when given the chance. He’s more street smart than book smart, but all knowledge is good knowledge.

He always likes to come up with some challenges for himself and his bros. Some sort of “friendly” competition amongst them, just to spice things up. He does consult Splinter sometimes to see what could be done in order to train certain skills.

Raph has a lot of love to give, but doesn’t like to show it plainly. He’s gotta show that big buff strong man attitude !!!!!!!!!! ... But he does have a big heart.

He and Mikey definitely do some music on the side - which has sparked the hilarious idea of a Hip Hop Christmas album. ... Mikey does call himself “MC Mikey”, but Raph is a better rapper.

Suprisingly good with arts and crafts (ex: woodcarving, knitting). Patience, precision, and carefulness are skills he has to work on often.

Training and lifting weights are his prefered ways to think back and analyze various things. That’s why when he’s angry, he goes out to train. It gives him the opportunity to calm down (somehow) and review the situation.

Even though his arguments with Leo can turn quite bitter, he knows he’d miss them if they were to stop. Butting heads with the leader is what brings them together (some would argue it’s not a healthy relation, but both are strong headed so it’s just always gonna be like that, you know~)

-- Donnie --

You know that shy, awkward, nerd stereotype? Throw that out the window, please.

Donnie sure is quiet when he first meets new people, but that’s only so he can observe them better and get to know how to interact with them better.

Once he’s starting to grow more comfortable, he’s probably one of the chillest dude you could hang out with.

Sure, sometimes he’ll start blabbering about his projects and throw out some complex terms, but that’s just because he’s always happy to include people into his things (IF the project is going well, that is...)

A patient teacher. Yes sometimes it’s tiring having to explain whenever he says a big word, but he doesn’t mind overall explaining and bringing forth new knowledge to those who seek it.

He’s not one to flaunt his intellect. He is not above anyone and he understands that not everyone has the same passions as him. Everybody can learn something new everyday - himself included.

Has a good sense of humor, mostly sarcastic. Is always up to doing some pranks around the lair with Mikey.

Donnie’s anger management could be described as “the calm before the storm”. He usually has a good control over his emotions, but if they ever get to explode, he can be quite ... “sharp”. He doesn’t hold his words and can be a bit judgemental when angry - but he’s quick to rectify the situation and apologize. Overall, when he’s facing a situation that displeases him, he is silent  and thoughtful. ... A lot goes on in his mind.

When in love, Donnie’s heart is soft and he’s a big romantic/cheesy dork. He’s often caught gazing at his s/o, with a smile on his face. He’s not afraid to lay his feelings in the open and doesn’t mind some PDA, but when he and his s/o are alone together, you can say it gets cranked up a bit ;)

Listens to various music genres. Has a preference for 80′s-90′s rock, jazz, and various types of electronic music.

Sometimes does some remote tech support jobs on the side so he and his family can have some money to spend.

Loves to play videogames! The first one he ever completed was Super Mario World on the Super Nintendo (hence why he has a SNES controller with his gear - an object filled with good memories!).

The self proclaimed “handyman” of the lair. He loves tinkering around and find ways to upgrade simple things in the house. He’s always up for a good challenge! (May or may not have a suggestion box for his bros and his dad to drop ideas once in a while <__< !!!)

-- Mikey --

Searching for a litteral ray of sunshine? Look no further; Mikey is here.

For him, finding joy and positivity in anything is a must - at least, most of the time.

He knows his family is not of the ordinary kind with a normal house, but that doesn’t mean things have to be grim and miserable!

This mindset does come at a price though. It does happen for Mikey to have his morale drop considerably low, but in those moments he knows he has his family to support him and make him feel better.

In return he is extremely supportive of anything his family does and will always encourage them when they’re going through a rough patch.

He and Raph love to collect various human items. Mikey has a tendency to go for art related items, which sparked his interest in arts (painting, spray cans/graffiti, drawing).

He also developped an interest in cooking.

Both skills are well received by his bros and he loves to teach them some tricks here and there, along with providing creative inputs to anything (mostly Donnie’s projects).

He’s an empath and doesn’t mind when his brothers vent to him. He wants them to know they are heard and valued! The best medicine he can provide is humor.

He’s a big flirt. Everyone is beautiful in their own way and he’s not afraid to express his admiration.

A party needs to be organized? Leave that to him. He always come up with some cool playlists, lots of booze, various activities, and a theme (if needed).

Loves to reference a lot of movie quotes, popular stuff and such. And it’s never out of place too, which can be surprisingly clever!

[artxyra]

The Secret Life of MDC | Part 4

Part 4 - Riddle Me This!

Part 1 | 2 | 3 |

It just had to be the Riddler who decides to grace his appearance at the strip mall. Just looking at his outfit was a crime against her eyes. Marinette had her far shares of a run-in with the green suited villain, and after countless complaints, he still hasn’t changed his outfit let alone attempt to contact her about an outfit change. Catwoman literally has her number; he could have just asked.

“Now who wants to go first. Choose wisely and you shall survive, but choice wrong and you may get a bullet.” The Riddler taunts his capture victims. They squirm under the threat, eyes widen beyond belief.

From afar, Marinette could see the shaking figures of her classmates. Years of being under Hawkmoth’s terror, showing little to no emotions during an attack, and they are shaking to the sight of the Riddler. Perhaps it was because there was no Miraculous cure or they have forgotten their permanent residency.  To be honest, Marinette was just waiting for Lila to say something stupid that would most likely get them all killed.

“M-my Damiboo would save me!” Yup, there she goes. Everyone, that was not fooled by Lila’s words (ie. Gothamites), facepalmed and groans as she gains the interest of the Riddler.

Tapping his chin, he stares at her before introducing his first riddle of this heist, “It's raining, and you pass a bus stop. There are three people there; your trustworthy friend, the love of your life, and a woman about to go into labor. Your smart car only has two seats. What do you do?”

Lila blubbers her answer, something about taking the love of her life and leaving. She is then scared shitless as a bullet zooms past her, nearly hitting her ear. A shock facial expression stays prominent on her face until she falls down, fainting.

“Oh, how the fibber swoons to darkness. Batsy isn’t here yet and I really want someone to solve my riddles.” He searches the crowd for his next victim. The Parisian teens quickly try to wake up Lila, but they also hope not to be the Riddler’s next targets.

Marinette mentally goes through answering the riddle. Chloe and Adrien stare at one another before shaking their heads. They knew what Marinette was thinking and that is a bad idea. Then again it might bet the better option seeing as they have no idea when the bat crew would make it to the scene.

“You give the keys to your friend so that they can take the woman in labor to the hospital and wait for the bus with the boyfriend.” Marinette confidently answers. The GA Trio stare at the Marinette in awe.

“She does that a lot,” Adrien whispers just enough for their new friends to hear. That was true, Marinette has a tendency of solving riddles which were due to her time being Ladybug.

Chuckling happily, the Riddler turns his attention to Marinette. Marinette doesn’t falter at him glancing at her, but she does narrow her eyes just enough to enforce a challenge.

Dancing closer over to Marinette and her friends, the Riddler chuckles. Half of the weapons turn to them, it's Adrien and Chloe that hold their ground while the GA trio looks like they want to bounce to safety.

“No amount of sass can save you from this riddle, pick the correct answer and your friend shall do free but pick the wrong—”

“They die?” Marinette quirks an eyebrow at the villain.

The Riddler blanches and says, “Only one color, but not one size, stuck at the bottom, yet easily flies. Present in sun, but not in rain, doing no harm, and feeling no pain. What is it?”

Emotionless and quick, Marinette gives her answer, “It's a shadow.”

“How about this one: if eleven plus two equals one, what does nine plus five equals?”

Adrien turns to Marinette, he knows the answer as Chloe taps the ground giving away the crook with a gun behind them. Tensions slowly rise among the group of friends.

“Uh, it’s two o’clock. You’re adding the hours of time.” Marinette answers with a sigh of relief at the end. She knows they are aching to pull the trigger, but unknowingly to the Riddler if anything happens to her, well let's just say he might not live to see another day.

The Riddler growls clearly frustrated with the teen's ability to answer correctly. Only a handful of people can do this to him. “In that case, what is it that given one, you'll have either two or none?”

Marinette only smirks, riddles was also one of her favorite past time against Tim when they are both on the verge of death by lack of sleep. Those late-night twitter messages give much to their twisted mindset on a lack of caffeine.

As Marinette draws on the answer a little longer, Chloe and Adrien take down the henchmen behind them. The henchmen fall to the ground swiftly as the blonde duo nod their heads. Adrien quickly pulls out his phone to see if there were any messages in the group chat. There’s none.

“How long do you think we can hold him off until they get here?” Chloe whispers side glancing at the rooftops of buildings.

“No clue, they haven’t sent anything in the chat, should I try texting Jon?”

Chloe’s eyes narrow causing Adrien to gulp and quickly tap on his phone.

“It’s a choice.” The blonde duo turns their heads towards Marinette who was now toying with the green suit villain. It was clear that she was slowly becoming agitated. “You know, what I have a riddle for you. What’s green and yellow, has no sense of fashion, and is literally killing my eyesight?” She yells at the villain.

It’s like a pin drop as everything freezes once more. Her classmates on the verge of leaving the scene as they were no longer the targets. Seriously, you’re just going to leave them to fend for themselves. Yup, they are as they make a large dash out of the scene. This then creates confusion among the Gothamite as they are used to this and what did they expect, screaming?

“Uh, I—uh…” The Riddle tries to formulate an answer. It takes him a second before pointing to himself. “Me?”

Marinette, like a disappointed mom, nods her head. “Yes. You dare show your face in such a green that could put someone’s eyes out. Don't you dare get me started on the yellow question marks? That tone does not do well on your skin. Gosh, you had one job, Riddler, one fricking job.” Marinette begins to go off. The Riddler and his henchmen pale at every word she says.

Just as Marinette was beginning to calm down, a shadow in the shape of a bat looms over the Riddle.

“Finally,” Marinette huffs as the Riddle turns his attention from her to fight against the Batman.

“Hey, you guys okay?” It was Nightwing who asks appearing behind the blonde duo. If looks could kill, he would have been six feet under with the look Chloe was giving me.

“Oh, my lord, it Nightwing!” Allegra squeals in the background but she goes ignore as Nightwing rubs the back of his neck.

“Get us out of here, like now!” Chloe screams to the vigilante.

Robin rushes to Marinette and tries to take her away from the situation.

“Are you alright miss?” He asks bringing them to the safety of the public. Marinette stares at him deadpanned before nodding. As much as we would like to kiss her lips, he sends her a shrug over to her friends. “Where are your classmates?”

“Gone, unless Alya decided to do something stupid like try and get a film of you guys in action.” Realization began to set over Marinette’s eyes. “You’re going to need to find them. Hopefully, they made it back to the academy without any problems.”

Robin nods then proceed to send a message over the coms about the missing foreign class from Paris. He quickly joins the search as Marinette turns to her friends.

“Do you any idea how ridiculously stupid that decision was?” Chloe grills the designer before whispering, “You know we’re not even in our suits.”

“Sorry Bee, but did you see that outfit?” Marinette counters before going on a massive rant about the Riddler’s outfit and how he could choose it.

~*~

Nette @GothamsFashionSense Yo, some foreigner just grilled the Riddler on his outfit. I’m so proud of her. #prideful #doIseecompetition

Chloe B. @QueenBeeOfParis Replying to @GothamsFashionSense That was my sista @MarinetteMemes, she too loves your content.

Nette @GothamsFashionSense And I ❤️ her, that rant was amazing 🤩. Need any tips @MarinetteMemes? #futureapprentice #fashionmess

~*~

Case in point, Alya did separate from the class when they were trying to escape once word got out that the bats were on their way. She is quick to make sure that Lila was alright before dashing back to the “crime” scene with her phone recording.

Batman had found her, but before he could get a word out, Alya was blasting him with questions regarding the situation and personal questions. He, of course, ignores them. Alya even tries to bring up Lila’s name but he doesn’t answer. Nightwing pulls on up on his bike to take the “aspiring” journalist back to the academy against her pleases and constant questions.

Upon returning to the academy, Alya was heavily lectured by the GA’s headmistress before her own teacher baby her. Mlle. Bustier was never one to give punishments unless it was warranted and even then, she doesn’t do it right. Alya was lucky to return to her dorm with a slap on the wrist and detention.

~*~

Babe Bee @Iheartthebatboy23 Um… can we talk about the girl that grilled the Riddler and how she looked so much like a Wayne? #newWayne #theorieseverywhere #brucewayneexplainplease

~*~

After a week of grueling classwork (aka grading assessments), getting pestered by her former classmates in Mlle. Bustier's class, Marinette wakes up with a beating headache. She hasn’t felt that way since the last time she had gone days without sleep, running on twelve shots of expresso before crashing.

“C’mon buggy, it’s Saturday and Jon’s in town. You know how much the kitten would want to spend time with him.” Chloe states, standing in front of Marinette fully dress and with a businesswoman power pose.

“And here I thought you did want to be the fifth wheel.” Marinette retorts only to get a chuckle out of the mayor’s daughter.

“No, but I will be FaceTiming Gami while you and the boys have fun,” Chloe responds back as she laughs at the dismal look on Marinette’s face. “But seriously though, get dressed. We’re meeting the boys in thirty.”

Marinette rushes over to her wardrobe and picks out her clothes then rushes to the bathroom. She comes out in fifteen minutes wearing black leggings and one of Damian’s sweatshirts that look like a dress against her small frame.

As the teens exit the school, they were quick to avoid Lila who was making up another story as to where she’ll be this evening. It was something along the lines of going on a date with her Damiboo. It took everything in Marinette’s body to not grill the liar about her boyfriend, but with soothing words from Chloe, they managed to get out the building without bloodshed.

If only that wasn’t the case later on that day.

Part 5 >>

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[hale-13]

Slipping Through the Cracks

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 5 - Broken

Just when his life was finally leveling out Parker luck struck again. Peter has had four opportunities with parents and has lost all of them. The way he sees it, this is the least of what he deserves.

Post-Homecoming - Tony didn’t meet with Peter immediately to offer him a place on the Avengers.

Words: 3856, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen-Teen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Happy Hogan, Ned Leeds

TW: Depression, Dissociation, a single line of Suicidal Ideation, Referenced Child Abuse

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

Peter was silent as he exited Midtown with Ned keeping a quiet pace with him. Seven months ago they would be just as excited as their classmates for the weekend, for the plans that they surely would have made to build Legos or marathon movies or even to just study together. Ned would have been ecstatic to set up in Peter’s bedroom as his ‘guy in the chair’ while Peter did a quick patrol or two. If they were at Peter’s instead of Ned’s, May would attempt some new dish that would, inevitably, be awful and they would order pizza from their favorite place for dinner.

Now Peter never saw any of his limited friend group outside of school. He didn’t build Legos or watch movies or eat take-out pizza and he certainly wasn’t Spider-Man anymore – he had given that up after the Homecoming disaster when he had destroyed Mr. Stark’s plane.

It had been just over six months since he had found May dead in their kitchen and Peter didn’t really do anything at all anymore.

The ER doctors told Peter that she had an undiagnosed aneurysm that had finally burst – there was no way for anyone to know. She went quickly. She felt no pain. There was nothing that Peter could have done even if he was there when it happened.

The reassurances meant nothing really – Peter was numb. May was his last living family member, he had no one else and nowhere to turn. He can vaguely remember telling the social worker that was with him when they told him the news about May that he was alone now. He can remember being taken forcibly from the hospital before he was ready to go, wanting to kick and scream and drag his heels but too shocked to do so. And then everything was a blur.

Somewhere in his mind he knew that he had been allowed to pack up everything important from their apartment to go into storage until he was eighteen besides the bag of essentials he had for himself. He knew that everything else was donated or sold to pay off their remaining debt and the medical bills he had incurred by calling for help when he found May on the kitchen floor. He knew that the social worker told him that, even after selling everything, they couldn’t afford a funeral. He has a business card in his wallet with the number of the crematorium that was holding May’s ashes until he was old enough to retrieve them and, hopefully, give her a proper burial in their family plot next to Ben.

He spent the two weeks after in a group home, mute and dissociating with seven other boys in similar situations. He didn’t go to school, but he remembers the constant stream of unanswered texts and calls from Ned and MJ before his phone plan was discontinued then his phone became a dead relic in his bag. There were a lot of discussions about school that Peter didn’t take part in but, thanks to his full scholarship, he was able to continue at Midtown at least until the end of the year.

And then he was placed with his foster parents.

The Fishers seemed to be pleasant people when Peter first met them; they didn’t force him to speak, they had extensive fostering experience with teenagers and were willing to pay for his subway pass so he could get to and from his school even though there was a decent public school in walking distance. It didn’t take long, however, for their true colors to show.

Now, though, Peter knew the rules. He was always home by his curfew of four on school days and he never went out on the weekends. His grades were perfect. He kept his undecorated room spotless. He cooked supper every evening and breakfast and dinner on the weekends. He kept the house presentable. He stayed out of the Fishers way. Mostly he drifted. His days slid together to the point he had difficultly remembering entire weeks passing him by but it was fine.

He was fine.

“I’ll see you Monday,” Ned muttered as he split off to get in his mom’s car, not acknowledging the pathetic little wave Peter offered in return. A coiling feeling settled in his gut and Perter felt guilt rise up to swirl in his throat. Ned was his best friend and he was treating him like shit. With Peter basically unresponsive, bullies had taken to picking on Ned instead… well except for Flash. Flash had been the only one to back off and stand up for both of them – it helped but didn’t fix everything.

“Better if he leaves you now,” a little voice in his head whispered. “It’s better to be alone.” And maybe at one point he would have fought against that mindset but now he couldn’t help but agree. Peter destroyed everything he touched and everyone around him was doomed for misery. Better for Ned to get out while he could.

Lethargically, Peter began across the empty football field toward the subway entrance – his trip home was always a little tight and he couldn’t afford to miss this train.

“Peter!” A harried voice shouted as his shoulder was grabbed and he was roughly turned around to face a red-faced and irritated Happy Hogan. Peter’s mind blanked for a moment in total shock at seeing the man again after so long. “Didn’t you hear me calling for you?”

“Sorry Mr. Hogan,” Peter mumbled, not making eye contact. He felt the phantom sting from the slap he had gotten for that when he first moved into foster care burning his bare cheek.

“The Boss has been calling you, he wants to chat. You screening our calls now?” Happy asked, accusatory as his eyes raked down Peter’s form. Peter felt a shiver crawl up his spine and kept his sight locked on Happy’s chin, trying to remain as relaxed as possible. It was important to not draw any unwanted attention to himself.

“No sir,” he answered, voice a little rough and quiet with disuse. “I don’t have a phone anymore.” Happy huffed and narrowed his eyes at Peter before steering him to the expensive Audi parked in front of the school.

“No matter, he wants to talk to you in person anyway. Hop in and I’ll take you to the Tower.” Peter gulped and fought the urge to dig his heels in – it wouldn’t be polite.

“I have a curfew of four,” he protested weakly as Happy pulled open the door for him and motioned for him to climb in. Peter hesitated but relented when Happy gave him a little shrug.

“I’m sure May will understand and Tony can always give her a call to clear anything up.” And with that Peter was gone. No one had said her name since she died and the thought… the very implication that he could still be living with his aunt, happy and carefree, was insane. His mind floated away and he felt like he was watching himself as a specter. He saw his body relax but his eyes were distant, cloudy. Happy, for the first time that Peter could remember, didn’t raise the partition between the front and rear seats and, instead, watched Peter in the rear view mirror.

The drive to the Tower took over thirty minutes with traffic and Peter would be panicking about how late he was going to be if he had any capacity to feel at all. Instead, he let his mind wander as the skyscrapers of Manhattan blurred into a grey mosaic outside the window, fat raindrops sporadically hitting the window as a drizzle started. “We’re here,” Happy told him as he parked the car in the underground garage that was reserved for Mr. Stark and other high level staff of the Tower. Peter popped his door open and followed the man to the private elevator that he assumed would take them to Mr. Stark’s office.

“Hello Happy. Hello Peter,” the disembodied voice of Mr. Stark’s AI, FRIDAY, said as the doors closed and the elevator began to move. “Boss is awaiting your arrival in his workshop.”

“Thanks FRIDAY,” Happy said, texting intently on his phone. Peter just remained silent as the elevator began to slow before stopping completely, the doors trundling open soundlessly. Happy nudged Peter out but remained inside the car as the doors closed, leaving Peter alone in the sleek room.

Tony was seated in front of a large hologram of his armor, code scrolling past on his monitor as he made adjustments. “Mr. Parker,” he said as Peter edged closer to him, not looking up from his work. “You’re a hard man to get in contact with.”

Though Tony sounded more forthright than angry, Peter still had to fight the cringe in his shoulders as he came to a stop about ten feet away from the work bench – out of reach and with enough time to prepare if the man were to make any sudden moves. “Sorry,” he murmured, keeping his eyes low and doing his best to keep his shoulders from curling in – the last thing he needed to do was show any weakness.

“No need for apologies,” Tony said, light, as he fiddled with a holo mechanism in the right repulser. “Just a statement of fact. According to the news Spider-Man has also been just as difficult to find.”

Peter just hummed in response, choosing not to comment on his previous alter-ego. He didn’t much feel like a hero these days.

“A man of few words,” Tony commented, shutting down the programs in front of him and turning to face Peter fully. “Are you the same kid who was talking my ear off in Germany a year ago?”

“Yes sir,” Peter said, keeping his eyes focused on Tony’s chin. He could feel his mind slipping as his heart rate sped up and he struggled to keep present – it was getting harder and harder to stay in the moment the more he allowed himself to get lost in his head. He occasionally dreamed that one day it might be permanent; one of the few good dreams he had.

“Sir?” Tony parroted, his eyebrows raising and a flash of guilt washing over his features quickly before disappearing. “Look kid, I think I owe you an apology. Actually, I know I owe you an apology. I didn’t communicate with you about the whole alien weapons take-down thing. I underestimated you and treated you like a side-kick and ignored you and then I left you alone and without any protection and you saved my bacon anyway.”

“I deserved it,” Peter said matter-of-factly. “I was in over my head and I disobeyed. The punishment fit the crime.”

“No it didn’t,” Tony told him bluntly but firmly, looking surprised but resolute. “Maybe we both share some fault in the situation but I’m the adult and the one with experience and I didn’t do anything to teach you or help you and for that I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Peter assured him, allowing himself to tap his index finger against his thigh once to let out his stress. Mr. Fisher didn’t like his constant fidgeting and Peter knew that it was pretty annoying so he had done his best to learn how to stand as still as possible to not incur any extra punishments – the index finger tap he was able to normally get away with.

Mr. Stark’s eyes were narrowed as he surveyed Peter. “I wanted to offer you a real spot as my intern. You could spend a few days a week in the shop working on tech and I made you a new and improved suit for the other part of your ‘internship’. I promise that you’ll always have the support you need to be New York’s Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. You’re the future of the Avengers, kid, its pretty clear to me now. Your spot on the team is there whenever you want to take it.”

For the briefest of moments, Peter was overwhelmed with excitement and incredulity. Ever since Tony had announced he was Iron Man to the world, Peter had wanted nothing more than to be a superhero as well, to be an Avenger. If Tony had offered him a spot on the team after Germany, Peter would have taken it in an instant. Now…

“Thank you Mr. Stark,” Peter said, voice still a little broken and hoarse from how little he spoke these days. “But I can’t.”

“Oh you don’t have to join now,” the man assured, misunderstanding. “You’ll need some training first but Rhodey and Vision are always down to join us at the compound for some group work. You have a lot of potential.”

“Thanks but that’s not what I meant,” Peter clarified. “I have to decline all of it but I appreciate the offer.”

“Oh,” Tony looked a little crestfallen, a dark expression of acceptance on his defined features. “I understand. Broken trust and all that. Sure.”

“It’s not that,” Peter reassured quickly. “I don’t hold anything against you – I was the one who messed up. It’s just I have a four o’clock curfew every day so I can’t do the internship.”

“That’s easily remedied!” Mr. Stark said, his eyes lifting with a smile and looking relieved. “I’ll just give Aunt Hottie a call and work things out and we’ll have you in the lab and out swinging through the streets in no time!”

Peter’s ears fuzzed out again, a sharp high-pitched note cutting off Tony’s excited words as a feeling of immense emotion flooded through Peter before he could tamp it down. His breathing felt a little ragged in his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut for just a moment to gather himself. “My aunt is dead,” Peter gritted out, interrupting Tony and rendering him speechless. “She died six months ago. My foster… the people fostering me are a little more strict.”

“Oh,” Tony said, face blank and an awkward silence filling the space. Peter gripped his worn down backpack straps and backed toward the elevator.

“Thanks for the offer,” Peter said earnestly. “It really is an honor I just…” he trailed off. “Thanks. For everything.”

And with that, he entered the elevator and pushed the button for the lobby, the doors shutting on Tony’s pitying expression before the man could say anything much to Peter’s relief. The metro card the Fishers had gotten him only had a set amount of money on it every month so Peter would be hoofing it back to their house from the Tower. His cracked watch face told him that it was already close to four-thirty and his stomach bubbled with anxiety. At this rate he wouldn’t be back in time to have dinner on the table at five-thirty.

Resigned to his punishments, Peter left the building through the shining lobby and pointed himself toward Queens, moving as fast as he could.

——————-

“You’re late,” Mr. Fishers’s tone was short and monotonous from where he was seated on the couch. The house was otherwise quiet which meant Mrs. Fisher was out that evening.

“I’m sorry sir,” Peter whispered looking at the floor and making no excuses. He had learned the hard way that trying to justify his poor behavior only made things worse for him in the long run.

“Go to your room,” Mr. Fisher told him making Peter cringe. “I’ll join you in a moment.”

Later, when Peter was lying on the bed with silent tears still leaking from his eyes and his back and ribs stinging in pain, he thought about Mr. Stark’s offer with selfish desire. In another universe, in another life, he would have been elated but now he only felt desolation - life always did like to dangle things in front of him he couldn’t have.

Setting his alarm for five-thirty so he wouldn’t oversleep, Peter let his consciousness slip away into the ether, mind going blissfully empty and blank.

——————-

Monday came both faster and slower than Peter wanted. His body still ached from his well-deserved punishment and he was exhausted from the extra chores and minimal food he had been offered as a result of his actions. School passed in a lonely blur for him as he drifted from class to class, hiding away in the deserted music room during lunch to avoid Ned and MJ. They didn’t ask as many questions anymore but Peter didn’t want to put himself in a situation where he would have to lie to his friends again.

When the final bell of the day rang, Peter chose to not stop by his locker where he may be ambushed and, instead, left the school, headed directly for the subway. He had nearly made it when a body physically blocked him from the stairs.

“Howdy Pete,” Mr. Stark said, peering over his glasses to look at Peter and Peter did his best to school his expression into indifference. He couldn’t be late again. He couldn’t take another punishment, he was just so tired all he wanted to do was sleep. Maybe forever. “Where are you headed?”

“Back to my fosters,” Peter told him, trying to skirt around. “I have a four o’clock curfew.”

“I remember you saying something about that,” Mr. Stark agreed with a nod. “Tell you what – let me give you a ride home. You’ll get home well before your curfew and I can talk to your foster parents about the internship. Who can say no to Tony Stark right?”

“NO!” Peter said loudly before smacking a palm over his mouth. He could feel the blood draining from his face as his body tensed, preparing for the correction he knew was coming. Mr. Stark’s brow was furrowed now and his eyes behind his blue glasses had a twinkle of understanding in them.

“Peter,” he began, reaching a hand out with the intention of lying his hand on Peter’s shoulder but he never got that far. Seeing the hand coming towards him and already being on high alert after his exclamation, Peter violently flinched away, only barely able to catch himself from falling over due to his enhanced reflexes, and squeezed his eyes shut tight. “Oh Peter,” Tony said, a desolate understanding in his voice.

Peter cracked his eyes open to see Mr. Stark with both hands raised in the universal ‘backing off’ signal, a soft look on his face. “Sorry sir,” Peter croaked out. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. It’s fine.”

“Do you have something you need to tell me kiddo?” Tony’s voice was soft and gentle and Peter felt his eyes well up with tears he hastily blinked away as he shook his head quickly. “It’s okay buddy. You can tell me.”

“I’m fine. I’m okay. It’s fine.” Tony looked even more crestfallen at Peter’s answer and tapped the side of his glasses to activate FRIDAY.

“Can you I’ve me a scan FRI?” He asked and Peter flinched again knowing there was no way to hide the broken and healing bones and skin that he had been doing his best to conceal. Tony’s face was tight as he stared at Peter and Peter felt all of the blood left in his face drain away.

“I deserved it,” Peter told him desperately. “I disobeyed, it was my fault.” Mr. Stark just looked even more beaten at his words and Peter felt his breathing picking up.

“It’s not,” Tony said, voice still unbelievably soft but firm. “It’s not your fault and you didn’t deserve it. You’re a great kid Pete.” Peter shook his head no and couldn’t stop a couple tears from leaking out before furiously wiping them away. “I promise that it wasn’t your fault Underoos. Will you let me help you?”

“You can’t,” Peter said, feeling hollow. “Everyone… everyone close to me dies. I’m cursed and I can’t do that to you too Mr. Stark.”

“Can I hug you?” Tony asked suddenly, arms twitching with need. After a seconds hesitation, Peter nodded and was hastily folded into the man’s arms; one arm tight around his shoulders and the other snaking up into his hair to pull through the too long strands carefully. Peter felt more tears leak out and, suddenly, he couldn’t hold it in any longer, throwing his own arms around Tony to return the hug and letting out a gut-wrenching sob into the man’s shoulder. Tony just shushed him and let him take as much comfort as he could. “You’re not cursed and none of this is your fault. I get the feeling no one has told you that yet and you need to hear it.”

Peter sobbed loudly again, curling in tighter. He had always thrived on positive affirmation and had grown up in a family where hugs and shoulder pats and forehead kisses were the norm. To go so long without… he had forgotten how nice it was to just be held and cared for. “Thank you,” Peter said, his voice clogged with emotion. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Tony said firmly. “Anyone decent would do the same thing and it’s the least of what you deserve.”

Peter squeezed him one more time and took a deep breath before pulling away. “Thank you,” he reiterated, fighting to make eye contact so he could show just how sincere he was. “But I need to get back before four and I already missed my train. I can’t be late.” Tony, who still had one hand resting on Peter’s shoulder, gripped him tightly to prevent him from escaping up the stairs to the train.

“You aren’t going back,” he said firmly, ducking his head and forcing Peter to make eye contact. “You’re coming with me back to the Tower where I’m going to call CPS and my lawyers. You’re never going back there again.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Peter insisted. “It’s really not that bad if I’m home on time and do my chores and stay in my room. And its only two more years until I’m eighteen and then I can get a job and an apartment.”

“Pete,” Tony said, eyes shining as he wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulders and started leading him away from the subway and toward the Audi that was parked in the pickup lane; Peter could see the outline of Happy’s silhouette in the driver’s seat. “You deserve better. You deserve somewhere safe and you deserve to have someone care about you. I know you don’t believe it now and that’s okay – I’m just going to keep telling you until you do.”

Peter sniffed back another onslaught of tears and allowed himself to be pulled away. “Thank you Mr. Stark,” he said, voice clogged with emotion.

“It’s Tony kiddo,” the man told him with another squeeze that warmed Peter to the core. “And you don’t need to thank me for this okay?”

“Okay,” Peter agreed, fully aware and present and wanting to be for the first time in a long time. Things were never going to be the same, but maybe, just maybe, they would get better.

[doctorstephenvincentstrange]

Doctor Strange & Worth: MCU Meta

So this has sat unposted in my drafts for the longest time, but I’ve decided to dust her off and let her see the light of day, after all. These are just some of my thoughts regarding Stephen’s character development and journey in the Marvel Cinematic Universe film: his growth from someone who cannot see the true worth in himself or anybody else to someone whose eyes are opened to the beauty of everything. Not to mention how that eye-opening allows him to evolve from someone who cannot love to someone who loves fully and truly, and how Kaecilius plays a vital role in opening his eyes to the error of his ways.

Without further ado, let’s get into it! 

Let’s start with the beginning of the movie.

Stephen flounces around the hospital like he owns the place and flexes his overbearing, boastful personality without a second thought. Like, most people have at least a smidgen of consideration for others and some degree of self-consciousness or ‘filter’ regarding how they treat others, but Stephen has zero. He talks down on staff members, orders people around like inferiors regardless of their status, and acts as though he is God almighty and the hospital would go to the dogs without him, overestimating his self importance. He legit acted like an overgrown child that’s yet to be struck with the reality everything is not about him. Stephen seizes every possible opportunity to show off even when inappropriate, and does all he can to assert his correctness and prioritizes it. It’s clear from the get-go that Stephen has some kind of overinflated sense of self.

All this would certainly seem to indicate beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is a generic arrogant, selfish bastard 101, but let’s skip ahead a bit, just for a sec.

This line isn’t him joking around, rather, it’s the confirmation that Stephen truly thought his own behavior was endearing. As much as he liked himself, he was convinced everybody else did, too. He genuinely, sincerely was convinced that his antics were somehow winsome and charming. And of course, having been in a position of power as a Chief Surgeon and his state of world renown, there’s no way anybody would have told him otherwise. Nobody would really be frank and honest with him — I mean, yeah, sure, Christine was, but seeing as she was the only one he was on friendly terms with who he held in high regard and was frank with him (exclude Nick, and all probable others Stephen smugly thought very little of, and their opinions), there’s no way he’d take one person’s word over that of the masses. And it’s just obvious how overcrowded he was with sycophants that overfed his deluded ego and made it harder for him to wake up to his own self deception revolving the ‘charm’ he was convinced that he possessed.

Just look at the way he hits on her! Look at the denial! We did too have fun! 

You know how people say “the bigger they are, the harder they fall?” 

Yeah, this story really does live up to that.

The lie Stephen was living was cut short when he lost it all and his fall from grace leaves him at the mercy of people’s honesty. All those “people skills” he thought he had do him no favors, and suddenly anybody and everybody can speak freely to him, and he’s not getting sugarcoated responses. He’s no longer treating people as his inferiors however he pleases without lash back.

And Stephen, who only knows his worth through the reception and acknowledgement of his talent and the amazing feats he had achieved with his hands in the neurological field, now feels the weight of worthlessness crushing down upon him. There are no more CCN interviews, no more speaking engagements. In his own mind, he is useless. And without any worth, there is no reason anyone would want anything to do with him. He cannot accept, within his narrow mindset, that anybody could ever love him in this reduced state. For that reason, he insists that Christine Palmer — that unlike TV reporters or other sycophants, has stayed by his side all this time  — must only linger beside him for her own self gain and reputation. It must simply be an act of pity, because that’s how Stephen sees Christine’s acts of selflessness and her work— nothing but her looking down on other people to boost her own sense of self, as he has.

And when Stephen goes to Karmar-Taj, he’s completely out of his element and in a setting that is absolutely foreign to him, but navigates all the same, the only way that he knows how to. His thoughtless, proud tendency to view all else as beneath him really comes back to haunt him when it threatens to close the door to magic — and miraculous change and healing for him — forever. 

By the time Stephen realizes he has misjudged the Ancient One and Kamar-Taj, and that magic is indeed very real and potentially his one last shot at reobtaining his former life, it is too late. He beseeches the Ancient One to teach him the ways of magic, but she has already seen enough of his arrogance to determine him an ill fit for a pupil..

In the end, it is because of Mordo convincing the Ancient One that even a man such as Strange still has worth and he may be of use in the future, reasserting their beliefs that all life has value, no matter how misguided it may be, it need only be redirected and put on the correct path... does the Ancient One agree and allow Strange to return, for a chance at redemption and potentially salvation. 

And so, Stephen begins studying magic. And unsurprisingly, being wrong about magic isn’t enough to hamper his antics. He’s the same old Strange.

In this scene, Wong tells Stephen when he’s not ready to learn something yet, but Stephen completely challenges and opposes him, going so far as to break the rules of the library Wong protects just so he can continue with his self advancement and conquest towards superiority (and hopefully, healing). He challenges his lessons, preferring to teach himself and refusing to acknowledge that even his teachers could possibly have any superiority to his abilities. 

 And it’s so hard for Stephen to make sense of, the backlash he receives for these behaviors. He can’t understand how he’s apparently ‘made for the mystic arts’ but is also being told to mind his pace and take everything bit by bit, step by step and not just rush headlong in impatiently as he always has. In his own mind, he’s not doing anything wrong by breaking rules or pushing limits —  it’s all about the results, after all. And this, this is for the most important result of them all... his hands. It doesn’t matter how dirty they have to get, he wants to fix them.

In the medical world, when Stephen showed off, people clapped & praised him because what harm could there be in pushing the limits and crossing the boundaries to save someone’s life? It was okay if he wanted to do something unconventional and risky (like remove a bullet from someone’s brain without a visual) because the ends justified the means, and he always delivered. It didn’t matter what he had to do or how ruthless he was, treating all around him as mere tools at his disposal to achieve what he wanted, without considering what might be at stake. Boundaries were never of the essence to Stephen.

But when he pushes the boundaries of magic and tries out the Ancient One’s Private Collection just to pursue greatness and feed his own ambition, he gets retaliation from both Wong and Mordo and is reprimanded about all the consequences he didn’t think of and other lives he wasn’t considering as he never has been before. And Stephen can barely collect himself and for the first time in the film, is speechless and out of witty remarks to snap. He is just so put off because he’s never been put in that position before, being held accountable for the liabilities of his pursuits for greatness. Simply put, he had never been made to consider the eggs he was breaking to get his omelet, and now, he is.

And he still doesn’t get it. “They  really should put the warnings before the spell,” he says, because clearly it’s not his hastiness or ambition at fault, but the book.

And he doesn’t get it, and he most likely would have never gotten it or opened up to the Ancient One, Wong, Mordo, or even Christine. No, he had to see it for himself. And see it, he does; in fact, it ends up staring him straight in the face.

They didn't spend so much screen time drawing parallels between these two over and over for no reason, this was what it was all building up to. Here, Doctor Strange meets his ego’s match. Kaecilius wants to save the world by granting everyone eternal life, preventing all its inhabitants from feeling suffering ever again. A bit like "doing work that will save thousands for years to come," no? 

The influence and efforts of others finally pay off as Stephen begins to apply their thinking, and questions what the cost will be if Kaecilius does that for the whole world, and if that accomplishment would really be as amazing as doing what he can in the immediate moment to spare the/ benefit the lives of individual people... kind of like “saving one drunk idiot with a gun,” right?. And Kaecilius dismisses Strange's interjections, repeats the same words he said to the Ancient one in the beginning... they’re just insignificant specks in an indifferent universe, just sacrifices that must be had to achieve what must be done. He even tries to reason with Strange, and appeal to the very reason he’s in that mess in the first place... his hands, and his deep desire to have them healed and restored.

And for the first time Stephen is looking the devil in the eye, and sees himself.

 “Just look at your face!”  And in that moment, Stephen rejects the man he has been, and can see clearly his flaws for what they are. His ego trip may have blinded him, but in that moment, he got on his own level and saw himself for the first time the way that others saw him, and it wasn’t someone he wanted to be and he recognized the wrongs of his ways. How ambition and the conquest for betterment can consume someone completely, until they’re so blinded in their pursuit for self worth, that they disregard the worth of all the other lives and people around them — it’s all ends that justify the means. It's not actually about doing what's right. It's about accomplishing the greatest feat possible for oneself — this is Kaecellius' ego unleashed, not a sincere quest for world salvation.

And everything bad he didn’t want to become that he saw in Kaecellius, gives way for new direction in all the inspiring goodness he sees in the Ancient One, her final farewell, and her sacrifice of her life to save his and Mordo’s own.

And in the end, Stephen finally understands what the Ancient One, Wong, and Mordo, and Christine were all on about. It’s not about what change you can create for other people to benefit yourself, Stephen; it's about the change YOU can make to benefit other people, who are so many in number and so much larger than yourself. It’s not about the strength in your hands, and what they can do; but the resolve of your heart, and the strength of your will.

And he learns, because the Ancient One teaches him...

He uses his own lifeforce to fence off Dormamu from earth, because even if he suffers, everyone else will be safe. He tests the worth that the Ancient One claimed she always saw in him; that could achieve things greater than he ever dreamed, greater than his medical ambitions. The goal-oriented, ruthless man we saw in the beginning becomes someone who learns true purpose and ambition. His life that was hollow and empty, becomes truly fulfilling.

And the most intriguing piece of irony of them all?

After exhausting countless resources, plenty of doctors, libraries, and research archives seeking a way to heal his own hands, he found nothing but failure. But using only his own willpower, he who felt helpless and powerless against his disabled hands, managed to save the entire planet and all those living within it.

Because it wasn't his hands that gave him value, nor was it his work. There was something greater, but he was blind to it in himself, and everybody else, seeing all based on what they could accomplish — their educational background, their medical accomplishments  — a worth greater than him, in the world all around him that he always disregarded and failed to see. Something beautiful, precious.

And parallel to earlier events, when Stephen once again pushes the boundaries of magic, but this time, not in pursuit of greatness of for the betterment of his own hands... he is not received with a vocal reprimandation. On the other hand...

And here we are, at the end.

Stephen says it again. “You know, you really should read everything, because the warnings come at the beginning of the books.” He pokes fun at Kaecilius, at himself, at their likeness with a humility unlike yet before.

And Wong laughs. When Stephen went through so many different things trying to make Wong laugh — like he always had his other co-workers— he didn’t. 

But when he put himself and his heart into it, he did.

And no longer is Stephen on the same path as Kaecilius, surrounded by subservient followers, who only did as he told them because of what he was after and the results he promised to be able to deliver on. Now, he surrounds himself with those who genuinely care for him for who he is. No longer is Stephen so blinded by his need to be the greatest person in the room, that he can't see the worth of those around him — of love, of friendship, of companionship.

[dramaticviolincrescendo]

I've really enjoyed your recent meta takes and was wondering if you could elaborate on your thoughts on Mandy + Ian and her going for Lip as a result (from your Ian Relationships meta)? I love reading about M+I and their connection is just so dear to me 😭

(P.S Thank you for being such a beacon of positivity in the Shameless fandom! I only got into the show during lockdown last year but it's become such a comfort so it makes me so happy to see positivity right now. ❤ )

Oh my gosh, thank you so much! You’re seriously too kind! I totally sympathize with you: Shameless has shot straight to the top of my list of comfort media since watching it right around the same time, so I’m really passionate about sharing the love around. 😃🧡 

To me, one of the most important things to look at in this analysis is motives—who each of these characters are, what they desire for themselves, and how those factors fit together like a puzzle.

Mandy is in such a difficult position. It’s not as easy as saying that she’s a victim of abuse and wants nothing more than to get as far from her family as possible, because that’s simply not true. In s1, we see that she’s very comfortable in her house. She and Mickey exhibit your standard sibling animosity (and competition for Ian’s attention, unbeknownst to her), she makes breakfast for Terry even though she’s obviously not super respectful to him as a parent, and she clearly has a solid understanding of where her family stands in the neighborhood. In a way, she thrives on that in the beginning. At but a word, she can do serious damage to somebody without raising a finger herself. Viewing Ian’s lack of response to her advances as an insult, she takes full advantage of that. In s2, we know that she is being abused in such a heinous way. She takes charge of the situation, although not in a manner that would save her from it. She leaves the house for a while to avoid Terry; she holds him at gunpoint and forces him to accept what he already knows so that he won’t hurt Ian. When they talk afterward, she even recounts what happened in a way that makes it sound like no big deal—he was drunk, and he didn’t know who she was, so it’s whatever. (It isn’t. We know it isn’t. If this is going to be her reality, however, then she’s going to own it. No one will look down on her, especially not a Gallagher who’s barely ahead of her in social standing.)

We’ll pause there because so much of how Mandy changed afterward is tied to Lip, but we can already see that Mandy isn’t like Mickey. Mickey stuck it out with his family and very clearly fell into the same trap we’ve heard verbalized by other male characters, namely the notion that men can’t be abused. It doesn’t matter that that is entirely inaccurate—that’s what they’ve been taught in their environment. That’s what’s normal to them. (That’s part of the dramatic irony in this scenario: we can see how damaging and traumatic these events are, but the characters don’t have our perspective. I don’t think Mickey sees what happened to him as rape, just like Ian doesn’t see what happened to him as grooming or assault. That’s for the audience to comprehend in terms of gravity and should add to our sympathy for them.)

Mandy is different. Women are abused all the time in their neighborhood. It’s visible, and it’s pervasive. In s3, Mandy immediately teaches Debbie how to defend herself against it. She didn’t have to learn. Like not seeing themselves as victims is part of the boys’ culture, fighting not to be one is part of the girls’. But there’s a contradiction in her life: the Milkoviches are the neighborhood badasses, and while she shares in that, it’s limited by her sex. There is something she will never be able to overcome in order to see the same return on her reputation that Mickey and Terry do, not unless she gets out, which will be extremely difficult on her own merits. She’s living in poverty and not doing well in school. Her prospects are limited—she told the counselor so. Based on that conversation and her history with boys even before meeting Ian, she clearly sees one surefire avenue to get out of this hole she’s stuck in: a man with the resources to get out and take her with him.  If she’s lucky, it’ll even be a good man with a good heart who wants to do good in the world.

Now, let’s talk about Ian. (See what I did there?) This doesn’t need to be long because I’ve already talked so much about Ian already lately, but let’s wax poetic just a bit. Ian wants to be a good person. He wants to be able to get by, even be successful, without having to do it through scamming and stealing. He has goals and ambitions, and whatever anybody thinks of those ambitions, he did it with the mindset that he would be a hero—a protector. Along with that, he never gives up. When Mandy sets her brothers on him, he doesn’t hide forever—he seeks her out multiple times to fix the situation. When he can’t get into West Point, he doesn’t quit ROTC and ignore his dreams. He keeps going.

Not only is he someone who wants to be good for himself, but he wants to be good for others too. He shows Mandy kindness that she arguably hasn’t seen from anyone else before. He takes care of his family when hers tends to focus on themselves and their own individual survival more of the time. Ian has what she would have seen as the potential to get out, and at the time, that is what he wants. It isn’t as an escape for him, but as a way to facilitate his own dreams.

The problem? Ian is gay. We can see that that bothers her sometimes because she forgets. She goes in for a kiss in s2 and has to reel back, settling for a hug instead. She gets tired of hearing him talk about Kash in s1 and kisses him to shut him up, saying she just wanted to kiss her fake boyfriend. Ian isn’t attainable. If Ian leaves, he won’t take her with him as a partner, and she can’t ask as a friend. How desperate would that seem to someone who refuses to be put in a position where she even slightly perceives him to be pitying her? She can’t ask. Not Ian. She needs someone else, someone who is also good and capable of getting out of here—who can be convinced to even if they don’t want to. Someone she can also trust and has some sort of connection with. Someone who is a fixer, and someone she can draw in with the only thing she thinks she has of any value: her body.

That would be Lip. Not only does he meet all of those criteria at the time, but she knows she can trust him. She trusts Ian, and Ian is closer to Lip than he is to anyone else—even her. No, Lip doesn’t have any convictions or real desire to leave, but he has potential. She can work with that. She’s also there for the entire Karen saga, so she knows that Lip is someone who takes his responsibilities to the people he’s with very seriously and tries so hard to cultivate that connection. (For example, feeding him, making herself sexually available as often as possible, letting him stay with her when he can’t go anywhere else without any conditions, etc. We even begin to see her distancing herself from Ian a little bit by s3, putting all of her energy into what she has with Lip when, a year ago, they were sneaking around because she said she didn’t want Ian to know about them. That isn’t to say that Ian was seeking her out either, being quite distracted with Mickey, but it’s noticeable for me.)

Like Mickey, Mandy also has a very deep capacity for emotion and affection that seems incongruous with her personality a lot of the time. Also like Mickey, nobody brought that out in her—it was always there. As much as she seemed to hope that Lip would take care of her, the process of growing closer to him led to a level of affection. I don’t particularly read their relationship as being a deep one. Both of them were using the other, to an extent, to deal with their trauma in other areas of their lives. But that sort of thing can foster a kinship, a mutual understanding that transcends time and place and even the terrible stuff that people do to one another.

So, it doesn’t work out. Mandy is hurt and does something unforgivable. She then runs from Lip, straight into what she feels is her only alternative now: an abuser. What else is there for a girl in her position? Ian was unattainable because of his sexuality, but to someone beaten down again and again, perhaps she believed he was also unattainable because he was too good a person. Lip was unattainable despite her best efforts to bridge that gap because of what he had with Karen, but to someone beaten down again and again, perhaps she believed he was also unattainable because her position in his life was to give but never to take. With Kenyatta, all she does is give. She’s embraced being beaten down because what else is there? She leaves with him, believing there’s nothing for her there.

When she finally finds her strength, far from home but hopefully under better circumstances than when she lived in Chicago, she still follows the formula that has ruled her decision-making for some time: finding a place where she can have the control over her life that was never there before, but still with the belief that what she has to offer isn’t academic or able to be built or improved upon. Ian has worked past his perception that his body was what he had to offer, that it was what would provide him with the love he was looking for. But of course, he has. He’s had Mickey to love him when he’s healthy and love him when he’s lost a bunch of weight from a depressive episode spent in bed. He’s had his family to mess up here and there but ultimately love him so much.

Mandy doesn’t have that. She didn’t then either. She got what she wanted—she got out. She even implied that that was the most important thing by telling Ian that being born on the South Side doesn’t mean that’s where they have to stay. But Ian “got out” of the spiral of abuse he unknowingly suffered and the mindset that it fostered while Mandy didn’t. This isn’t to say anything negative about sex work, of course, only the mindset that led Mandy to this point in her life. And when she leaves the house for the last time, she looks at Lip after having asked about him, and they acknowledge each other the way that people who once knew each other do.

I’ve made the joke before that to Milkoviches, Gallaghers are like catnip. It’s flippant and funny enough when we consider how many of them have dated at one point or other. I’ve also said the Milkoviches are designed as a foil to the Gallaghers, a juxtaposed image of what they could have been had their situation been altered slightly. In s10, Mickey mentions how the Gallaghers are messed up and he’s never been happier to be a Milkovich, so there’s some awareness there that these are the two notorious families of the neighborhood, albeit for different reasons. For Mandy to see that not one, but two Gallaghers are out of reach? To perhaps feel as though she’s less than even them, or made to feel that way in her interactions with Lip? It’s the ultimate slap in the face.

She trusts Ian more than anyone else in her life, to the point where she will still call him to help her hide a body long after she’s left him and their home behind. But trusting Ian led her to loving Ian, and she couldn’t have him. Trusting Ian led her to meeting Lip, and if Ian was so good and loved Lip so much, he had to be worth it too. And to her, he was. The problem was that she felt that she wasn’t.

Self-fulfilling prophecies suck: when you’re treated like garbage by a neighborhood that sees your family as garbage and repeatedly experience things that will make you feel like garbage around people with the best intentions, you’ll start believing that you are, in fact, garbage. I think what we’ve watched with Mandy is a steady decline from a place of strength in herself and weakness in her environment to an overall place of weakness that she couldn’t escape. Not with Ian and, when she realized that wouldn’t happen, not with the only real alternative she thought she could trust since she trusted Ian so deeply. 

[wickedmilo]

NOT EXACTLY SUBTLE | MILO & ROSALYN

PLACE: A club TIMING: 1:49 AM SUMMARY: Milo needs a lighter, and Rosalyn is happy to supply one. It doesn’t take her long to start wondering what she might be able to take from him in return. WRITING PARTNER: @truecolorcollector CONTENT WARNINGS: Addiction, alcoholism, inebriation, very brief mention of homophobia

Milo had come to the begrudging conclusion that no matter how much alcohol he drank, no matter how many substances he forced into his system, going to clubs as a vampire was always going to be different. When he was human, the only cravings he fell victim to were so easily remedied. Most club goers were holding, and seeking out dealers was as simple as catching the eye of the right person. Now, he had a craving that was putting other people at risk, and it was something he still wasn’t used to. He had always been the only person to suffer the consequences of his reckless decisions. He figured Dani, and his parents might disagree with that observation, but there was a vast difference between not returning to his family home when he was supposed to, and tearing out somebody’s throat with his teeth. It was difficult to relax, difficult to melt back into the mindset of not caring, though he was doing his absolute best. 

His level of intoxication was reaching a dangerous peak. He was stumbling when he walked, becoming far too preoccupied with the heady scent of human blood. It seemed to hang in the air like a mist when there were so many people so close together. Their faces were flushed, their bodies were hot, their blood was tantalisingly close to the surface. But he pressed on, determined to ignore his thirst. He just needed some air, he decided. An ironic conclusion to draw considering he no longer breathed it. But after pulling out his packet of cigarettes, he realised his lighter was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t the first lighter he had ever lost, and it definitely wasn’t going to be the last, so he didn’t allow himself to become frustrated by its absence. Instead he downed what was left of his drink, abandoning his empty glass so that he could approach the nearest person to him. “Hey,” he called, hoping to gain the woman’s attention. She didn’t look like a smoker but Orion was right, people often had a way of surprising you. “If you’ve got a lighter, I’ve got a cigarette.” He tried, flipping open the lid of the carton, offering it to her with a smile.

Crowds, like the one in front of her now, were always a mixed bag for Rosalyn. She liked talking to people, getting to know them when they seemed interesting enough to expend the energy on. But while there was plenty to choose from in a club like this it was easy to lose someone in it as well. Even for someone like Rosalyn. The double edge sword was that despite the amount to pick from, auras had a habit of easily losing meaning if there were too many crammed shoulder to shoulder, becoming a kaleidoscope mess of colors. It made it hard to single out one from the rest. But as Rosalyn walked into the club the swirl of different auras proved to be helpful. Sometimes the lack of something was more interesting than its presence. 

She spotted the man a moment before he spotted her and approached. Young guy, a bit on edge. But what really stood out was the nothingness surrounding him as he got closer. Just a void of cold air, not a single streak of color surrounding him. Now that wasn’t something you saw every day. “You know smoking’s bad for you,” Rosalyn said as she pulled a lighter from her purse and took his offer of a cigarette with a smile. Smoking wasn’t a frequent pastime of hers, but it made it easy to get close to others in moments like this.  

As she lit his cigarette and hers she looked him over. Definitely on edge, but she didn’t have much of a cheat sheet with no aura to see. Well, besides the fact that a lack of aura was telling by itself. “You from around here? I just got here myself and I’m still getting a feel for it. How would you recommend this place?” She asked, nodding back towards the throng of people dancing and drinking. 

Milo laughed, unable to help himself. Even when his lungs were fully functional, cigarettes had been the very least of his worries. “Everything I do is bad for me.” He countered, grinning despite the truth behind his words. Leaning forward so that the woman would be able to light his cigarette for him, he was careful not to breathe in through his nose. It was a habit he had struggled to form, but one that was steadily becoming a part of his routine. There were small tricks, certain patterns he could utilise to avoid the scent of blood when it was at its strongest. Withdrawing again the moment he was able to, he exhaled a breath of smoke. “You know smoking’s bad for you too, right? You’re not exempt.” He pointed out, nodding at the cigarette in her own hand before leaning back against the wall behind him, turning his gaze back to the chaos of the club.  

“Born and raised.” He admitted with a shrug, not for the first time wondering what might have become of him if he had made an effort to escape White Crest. He would still be alive, that much felt pretty obvious. “You are?” He asked, shooting her a curious look. “Most people are scrambling to get away from this place. White Crest has a way of digging its claws into you… just never letting you go.” Well, in his case ‘sinking its fangs into you’ would be more appropriate, but the sentiment remained the same. Another laugh escaping him, he shook his head, taking another long drag of smoke. “You’re definitely asking the wrong person, I’d recommend anywhere with a steady stream of alcohol.”

Rosalyn smiled at the man’s response. “We’re allowed a few bad things every once in a while. Or more than once in a while.” As he moved away she caught something a bit tense about his movement, and Rosalyn let her eyes linger on him as he turned back toward the club. There were only so many things a lack of aura could mean, and none of them were easy to glean with nothing else to go off of. But it was all something she could hopefully puzzle out, assuming the man was willing to keep chatting with her for a while. He seemed friendly enough. At least willing to answer her question rather than just take the light and leave. So that was a good start.  

“That’s funny,” Rosalyn said with a chuckle. “I was talking to a friend the other day who was wondering the same thing. Why White Crest? Holds a bit more weight coming from a local though.” She took a drag, gathering her thoughts. “I guess I just needed a change of pace and White Crest seemed interesting. I don’t mind a place trying to get its claws into me, I’m pretty good at getting out of them. My livelihood doesn’t need me to be in any one place. So some weird small town is no different than the city to me. Other than I’m not sick of this place yet.” 

Rosalyn shrugged and laughed. “But that’s me rambling. If you’re planning to ditch White Crest I’d suggest Portland. We can trade towns. I’m Rosalyn by the way.” 

It was something Milo told himself often, even now despite knowing his bad decisions were a part of what had gotten him killed. Humming quietly in response, he couldn’t bring himself to agree with his usual enthusiasm. “I guess so.” He offered the woman a smile, not wanting her to think he was lost in thought. He was too easily distracted sometimes, it wasn’t always fair on the people he was talking to. Raising his eyebrows when she told him the fact that he was originally from White Crest was funny, he wasn’t surprised to hear other people felt the same way as he did. As far as he was concerned, you would have to be crazy to think otherwise. “It’s definitely interesting.” He agreed, a laugh escaping him. A hint of bitterness managed to creep into his tone but he hurried to brush it away.  

“You say that now, come and find me in ten years when you’re still here.” He teased, absentmindedly tapping ash. It landed on the floor but the establishment was hardly five stars, he had no doubt it would go unnoticed. “What do you do then?” He asked, wondering whether she had been instructed to move into town by some boss, or had chosen to of her own volition. Sighing quietly as he took in the crowd, the people of White Crest, the strange heart of his childhood home, there was no denying the fact that he was stuck here. As stuck as anybody else. Even if he wanted to leave, he was too afraid of what he was. There were too many unknowns. At least here, he had a chance to find the person responsible for killing him. At least here he had the help of Harsh, Orion, Macleod, and James. “I don’t think I’m going anywhere.” He admitted, committing her name to his memory. “This town fucking swallowed me whole. I’m Milo… thanks for the light.” 

“Well I like to plan ahead, but I can’t say I plan that far in advance. So I’ll see where ten years leads me,” Rosalyn said with a hum. Was this really such a dead end town? Middle of nowhere, yes, but that isolating? This guy certainly seemed like he had some sort of chip on his shoulder about it, whatever the situation was. And those were always worth poking at. 

“I’m a small business owner,” She put on a slightly embarrassed laugh. “It sounds silly to some but I run an Etsy shop. I make knickknacks and the like. It makes more money than you might expect.” And you can help with that, whatever you are. 

“No problem, Milo.” Rosalyn paused and took another drag of her cigarette, half forgotten as she thought through how to proceed. She cocked her head to the side slightly, real curiosity mixing with faked concern.  

“I know I’m just the stranger that offered her your lighter so feel free to tell me to shut up if I’m prying, but what’s so bad about this town? Is it lack of opportunities or crime or something. I’m not asking because I don’t believe you, just wondering if I should rethink my plans. You make this place sound almost monstrous.”  

Milo laughed quietly. It was fair enough, he couldn’t remember ever being the type of person to plan ahead. The idea of contemplating where he might be in ten years was too overwhelming to dwell on. He had a feeling the people who genuinely planned that far in advance, weren’t the people he wanted to know. “That doesn’t sound silly to me,” he insisted. “I work in a comic book store- or worked?” He really needed to see about getting his job back. “I don’t know, it’s been a while since I showed up for a shift. They might never want to see me again at this point. I couldn’t exactly blame them, you know?” He brushed off his comment, trying not to think about whether that might actually be true. 

Watching as the woman seemed to change her tone, taking another long drag on his cigarette, the concern in her expression was more than obvious. He should probably stop with the whole bitterness thing, it invited too many questions. The only issue being he just didn’t know how. He was good at pretending to be sober, more than skilled when it came to denying his substance abuse, but hiding his emotion was different. He never could seem to hold himself back. Monstrous. He exhaled a huff of breath, smoke curling in the air around him. The wording was almost laughable. “Oh, it is.” He admitted, ignoring her comment on telling her to stop. He didn’t feel as though she was prying, and he had always been decidedly open. “Some people see it, and some don’t. I dunno know about crime, stuff is just… things can get really fucking weird.” He faltered for a moment, thrown back into the memory of waking up in an abandoned building, scared, and alone. “I’m not here to tell you what to do,” he added, offering a casual shrug. “Just being honest. It is what it is…” 

“You’d be surprised what people judge others for, even when it doesn’t affect them in the slightest.” Rosalyn took another drag before snuffing out the mostly done cigarette underfoot. “And you never know, they might be eager to have you back. I always think it's worth taking a shot rather than just wondering.” How helpful that suggestion was for some job at a comic shop she couldn’t say, but the advice was genuine. She wouldn’t be anywhere with her job without going out on a limb, knowing full well people could easily say no. She’d probably still be in the dark about her powers if she never took the risk of getting close to others.  

Rosalyn watched the smoke curl around Milo’s face, almost like its own aura. “I never would have guessed, from all the talk about ‘sinking claws’ and being ‘swallowed whole.” Her tone turned teasing, but she tried to keep the concern on her face. “But I’m pretty used to weird, believe it or not. Cites have their own weirdness but ...well, I imagine White Crest might be a bit different.” She studied his face. Was it worth it to keep pushing? She had no clue if him seeming on edge meant he was skittish or not. And calling out someone, something, point blank could get dangerous, even if they were in a crowd. Rosalyn had plenty of close calls with those she got close to for their auras. But Milo, for as little as that was worth, didn’t seem dangerous on the surface. Or no more dangerous than any other unknown supernatural. 

“No need to worry, I didn’t think you were trying to scare me off. Getting an honest opinion from someone from here is worth more than tourist websites or whatever someone from out of town might think.” She looked past the crowd, toward the nearly packed bar. “I’m not going to start drowning my sorrows over my move just because someone has a bad view of the town. Though I could use a drink. How about one on me for the helpful advice?” 

“Hm, I’m gay. I get it.” Milo countered, a grim smile tugging at his lips. He was lucky enough to be generally accepted by the people he met, no doubt because he didn’t shout about it he managed to fly under the radar of anyone who may be bothered by the fact. But he understood the world, he saw how many people actively searched for reasons to be malicious. “So you get judged for your Etsy store, huh?” He wasn’t exactly surprised. Owning a successful Etsy store implied a certain degree of skill and creativity, two things that often made others jealous. It still felt incredibly petty to him, though. Burning his cigarette down to the filter, he followed Rosalyn’s lead and dropped it to the floor, making sure the cherry was dead as he nodded in response to her suggestion. “My boss is used to me being unreliable, I’m sure he’ll take me back.” He admitted. This was the longest amount of time he had ever been absent for, but he was hopeful. He couldn’t see any reason why he might be turned away. 

Laughing easily at the sarcasm, his smile became far more genuine as he looked back up at his company. “Not exactly subtle, huh?” Maybe the alcohol was making him a little too open. He had never been careful before, but it was a habit he was being forced to form. Falling silent for a brief moment, he wondered whether White Crest really was different, or if the entire world was the same way. Maybe there were vampires around every corner, ghosts haunting people and places no matter how far you travelled. Realising, in his distraction, he had forgotten to focus on his breathing, he took a deep, and purposeful breath. Harsh’s voice seemed to echo inside his head, scolding him for being so careless. Raising his eyebrows, his eyes shining, he couldn’t hide how amused he was by her comment. He forcibly suppressed any concerns he might have, determined to enjoy the evening. “I will definitely take a drink, and also the fact that you thought I was helpful in writing.” He teased. “Otherwise nobody will believe me.”  

Rosalyn let out a sudden laugh at Milo’s response. “Touche. So am I, but clearly assumptions people make about my Etsy shop is the real injustice in the world.” She rolled her eyes at her own statement and grinned. “I just meant people hear Etsy shop and look at me and think I’m just some bored suburban housewife who decided to pick up knitting and sell it online. Doesn’t bother me too much, but I’ve had a few people not take me seriously because of it. Certainly my dad would’ve wanted something a bit more stable for me I imagine.” 

As she spoke he felt herself easing into the conversation more. There was a rhythm to talking to new people, a flow to finding out what to fake and what to be genuine about. But what stayed consistent was the need to be observant.  

“I’m good at picking up on things, but yes, not very subtle.” As Milo’s laugher faded and his eyes seemed to go somewhere else for a moment he seemed tense again. For a moment Rosalyn worried she’d made a misstep. But no, it wasn’t tension she was picking up on... A beat passed, then another. It wasn’t that he was holding his breath, he just wasn’t breathing. As soon as Rosalyn caught on he took a gasp, but it was easy to pick out after that. The rhythm of the ins and outs were controlled, like those moments where you focus too much on your breathing and the reflex of it fades, leaving you to take over. At least for humans. So you are undead... 

“I’ll make sure to write it on the receipt as a souvenir.” Making her way through the crowd towards the bar gave Rosalyn a moment to think. Undead narrowed it down a bit. She only knew of two types of intelligent undead, zombies and vampires, and she’d dealt with neither of them one on one like this.  A sense of excitement bubbled up in her. There might not be an aura to pick apart, but there was a lot more to learn from this encounter. A lot more to possibly gain as well. 

“What do you want? Just don’t buy the most expensive thing, I’m not that successful.” As she ordered her own drink she looked into her glass and the murky reflection of it. A smile crossed her face as she remembered something a hunter had once mentioned in passing. Now there's an idea. “So, anything I should keep an eye out for in town in particular, White Crest guide? Besides this town in theory trapping me for ten plus years?” As she spoke she reached into her purse for a compact mirror. Half hiding it under the bar she checked her face and then, tilting it, checked Milo’s. Or tried to at least. All she saw was the reflection of neon and strangers dancing.  

Well then... 

“True discrimination, right there.” Milo agreed, feigning sincerity before laughing at the joke. “And you’re not?” He asked. “Some bored suburban housewife, I mean?” He couldn’t stop himself from teasing his company. She seemed friendly enough, and it was quickly becoming clear she was more than able to take a joke. Besides, any semblance of the filter he usually struggled to keep in place had been steadily dissolved by the alcohol. That much was obvious to him, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. “So, what do you make, if you don’t knit?” He couldn’t imagine ever judging anybody based on their business, it seemed so unnecessary, especially if it was successful. But they had already come to the same conclusion, the world could be a really shitty place. “Maybe they just don’t like the fact that you’re making money from it.” He pointed out. “Kind of proves everyone who ever told you to ‘get a real job’ wrong. And people really don’t like being wrong.” Grinning easily when she agreed he wasn’t being subtle, he shrugged, leaning heavily against the bar as they reached it. “English Lit major,” he explained, having the decency to look a little sheepish. “Wordplay is my kink.”  

Laughing again when Rosalyn agreed to write a note on her receipt, he almost hoped she would. It would be an amusing memory to look back on, if nothing else. He didn’t have very much to his name anymore, most of his belongings had been left, abandoned in his childhood home. He was officially starting over, he only wished that could have been through choice. “Hm,” he hummed, eyeing the menu board despite knowing what he was going to order. “G&T?” He asked, wanting to give her the option to say no although he was fairly certain she wouldn’t. “Oh, no. Trust me, you do not want me as a tour guide.” He shook his head, his amusement obvious. “I’d only be taking you to every gutter I’ve woken up in. Of which there are many. It would hardly be educational.” 

“Well maybe I’ll just take that offer of a drink back,” Rosalyn retorted with a smile, clearly not meaning it. “I make a mishmash of things. Knickknacks and accessories I guess you could call them. I collect what I find interesting and turn it into something new, or something useful, or both.” She chuckled, eager to turn the teasing back at Milo. “English major! Now there is someone who can feel my pain. I promise not to tell you my idea for a novel.” 

When he gave her the order she quickly called over the bartender to place it, tucking the compact mirror back into her bag. Vampire. At least she couldn’t recall anything else off the top of her head that lacked both an aura and reflection. She didn’t need some lecture from a slayer to know this was dangerous, that for all the banter and consideration of words on her side, Milo could easily be calculating this as well, leading her into a trap. If he was, he was doing a very good job at it. She would have to stay on her guard. 

“Not a single interesting thing? Not even an anecdote about your favorite gutter?” Even as she spoke she felt her mind wandering to every bit of info she could recall about vampires, and the inevitable call to her old spellcaster contacts she would have to make. Assuming this continued to go well, the newest items in her store might be undead.  

“It’s too late,” Milo insisted. “You already offered, no take backs.” Smiling as Rosalyn began to elaborate on her Etsy store, it was nice seeing somebody so genuinely passionate about their creations. That didn’t stop him from jumping on her though, how could he not when the conversation seemed to be flowing so easily? “Careful, or you’ll start sounding pretentious.” He grinned, his eyes shining. “How long until you start telling me you’re turning trash into something beautiful, and your work is making the world a brighter place?” Laughing when she mentioned pitching him an idea for a novel, it wasn’t the first time he had heard that, although so far nobody seemed to think him capable of actually writing one. If he was being entirely honest, he barely believed in his own ability. Surely writing a book required an actual attention span? And a tad more sobriety than he had just now. “Is it about a likable, small-time business owner, moving to a deadbeat town in the middle of nowhere?”

Picking up the Gin and Tonic the moment the bartender placed it down in front of him, he didn’t hesitate before taking a long drink from the glass. It was frustrating, the amount of alcohol he needed to reach the same level of drunk he had been able to achieve as a human. He had yet to measure the difference in units, he wasn’t entirely sure he cared enough to pay that much attention to his plight. But if he could charm strangers into covering the cost of his drinks, he wasn’t about to complain. Did it really matter if, eventually, the end result was the same? “I have plenty of gutter anecdotes.” He played along. “I can even take you to my favourite gutter. It’s a humble spot, unassuming, nice view…”  

“Pretentious is a bit much. ‘Full of myself’ feels more accurate.” Rosalyn took a sip of her drink and tried to focus on the moment in front of her, rather than too many steps ahead. “And yes, that is exactly what my book is about, how did you know? I’d tell you more but I shouldn’t. I don’t want you to go stealing my best seller idea. Unless you wanted to ghostwrite. For the experience of course. I wouldn’t pay you.”  

She went to take another drink but decided against it. Did she really want to dull her senses when spending time with a vampire? Anyways, Milo seemed like he was too focused on his own drink to realize Rosalyn was avoiding hers.  

I’d rather not end up dead in one, thank you. Instead of voicing that thought Rosalyn just chuckled at Milo’s gutter comment. “As nice as they seem, I’m not sure gutters are really my scene. Honestly, clubs aren’t really my scene either,” she admitted with a shrug. “But when you move to a new town it is easy to get antsy to meet new people. Or maybe that’s just me, I only have this one experience to go off of. But hey, this spur-of-the-moment trip went well. I could have easily run into any number of creeps or boring people. Instead, I run into some smartass, but at least he’s friendly.”  

“You know, I’m not exactly sure, it being an incredibly original idea, and all that.” Milo grinned as he continued to sip on his drink. “Honestly, it sounds like such a life changing project, I might just have to take you up on that offer. Fuck, money isn’t important when you can help write a story that’s actually going to change the world.” He laughed, realising just how much he was genuinely enjoying Rosalyn’s company. It meant a lot, somehow, to know he could still do some of the things he used to do. He could go to bars, he could meet new people, he only needed to proceed with a little more caution. He was definitely in the process of learning how, but he had hope. One day this would feel normal, one day he would feel normal.  

“Hm, see, then I can’t help you I’m afraid. That really is the extent of my knowledge.” Raising his eyebrows when his company insisted she didn’t enjoy going to clubs, it was entirely beyond his realm of understanding. He was so caught up in his own world, his own desperate need for inebriation, the idea of anybody being able to exist without that was alien, and unbelievable. “Ah, so you do enjoy clubs, this is just the first time you’ve recognised that fact!” He pointed out, offering her a smug smile although they both knew he was only teasing. “Clearly it’s because you’ve never been to a club with me.” His expression faltering briefly, he heard Dani’s voice echoing inside his head. Every time she had ever called him a smartass, or told him to shut up when he was being too sharp. God, he missed it. He missed it so much more than he was willing to admit. “Yeah,” he hastily brushed off the memories, finishing what was left of his drink. “S’not the first time someone’s called me a smartass, I guess I can’t deny it at this point.” He admitted, tapping his fingers against his glass. “Oh, am I being friendly?” He allowed himself to slip back into their playful banter. “I’d hate to ruin my reputation, maybe don’t tell anyone about this.”  

“I suppose that will have to be added to the memoir- I mean completely fictional novel about fictional people. It will be life-changing for people to know that, yes, the stuck up, small-time business owner was willing to go out on a limb and have a good time at a club.” Rosalyn watched something dark cross Milo’s expression, something she couldn’t quite read. She would have cursed not having an aura to give her clues, but honestly, the lack of it made the whole thing more interesting. Even more of a puzzle to be solved, a little like doing a Rubik’s cube blind. She knew he was a vampire now, but there was still so much that could be picked apart in time if she played this right. 

“I’ll take it to the grave, but there will be a paper trail.” As she said that Rosalyn took a pen from her purse and scribbled down on the receipt for their drinks: Let it be known that Milo is both helpful and friendly. After a moment, she also wrote down her number. “I should get going before I spend too much money on drinks and regret it in the morning. But in case you are ever in need of a lighter again, or just want to hang out.” Rosalyn grinned as she passed him the piece of paper.  

“Revolutionary.” Milo grinned, laughing at Rosalyn’s description of her novel. “Don’t forget the very handsome GBF she met on her first night out. Again, totally fictional. You know, I’m all for the cliche.” He felt sure if he had been more sober, he could have found a play on words in response to her mention of taking a secret to the grave. But his mind was swimming, the alcohol in his system finally pushing him over the edge. He had already taken the monster analogies too far. What did it matter if he let this opportunity slide? Briefly distracted by the mention of a paper trail, it didn’t take long for him to realise what his new friend was doing. He watched her as she took a pen and began to scrawl a note at the very bottom of her receipt. The moment he saw the message, he laughed, unable to help himself. “You forgot handsome.” He pouted, eyes shining as he caught her gaze. It wasn’t lost on him that she had added her phone number, that maybe she was hoping to stay in contact. It warmed his heart to think she would even want to. 

“I mean, if you don’t get going I’ll only convince you to pay for another round.” He teased, his way of thanking her for the round she had already paid for. “I’ll get the next one. Or maybe a coffee if you’re looking for a change of pace.” He couldn’t imagine how jarring it was to move to a new town without knowing anybody. The very least he could do was offer to meet her somewhere she felt comfortable, more at home. Taking the slip of paper from her, holding it up to read it again, he made a mental note to add her to his contacts. If he didn’t remember to text her the following night, hopefully the note would serve as a reminder. “I guess I’ll see you around.” He chose his words carefully as he slipped the receipt into his pocket, needing her to know he had every intention of doing so. Picking up his glass, downing what was left of the melted ice and dregs of alcohol, he shot her one last smile, before melting back into the crowd. She may not like clubs, but this was where he belonged. This was his version of home.

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 4: Bust A Move •

TRIGGER WARNINGS: sexual assault implications. This very first scene with Beverly involves her and her father, and her fear of him doing something to her. If you'd like to skip I have marked the end of the encounter with this: [●●●] When you see this marker, that means it is over and you can read the rest of the chapter in peace. This chapter will begin with this scene so if you are skipping, proceed to scroll until you see the marker.

A/N: you certainly will not hurt my feelings if you skip the scene. This was a very difficult mindset to get into myself and I struggled a lot emotionally with writing it. But I promise, the rest of the chapter is heartwarming and fun and overall is the foundation of friendships and significant to Y/n's arc, her induction into the Losers Club [including her link to Henry and what "makes her a loser" and the budding relationship between her and Eddie.

WORD COUNT: So big I had to add a word count, 7849. Oof, take some breaks peeps.

×××

    With a terrible sinking feeling and a churning stomach, Beverly walked through her front door. She tightened her grip on the plastic bag she held behind her back, praying her father wasn't around to see what she had bought. As she crept through her apartment, scanning for any signs of life, she absentmindedly heard the words of the children's program echoing throughout the residence.

    "Toilet and bath water travel down the drains and into the sewer." The front closed, not as quietly as Bev had hoped. "The sewer is a fun place to play with all of your friends. Just follow the water into the drains and down into the sewers you go."

     The words of the cheerful program hostess echoed off the walls and went unnoticed by Bev. "When you're with your friends in the sewers, you can be as silly as a clown!"

    She poked her head cautiously into the living room, it was empty.

   "That's right, it's the word of the day."

    Bev walked quickly and briskly down the hall, nearing the safety of the bathroom when the large looming figure of her father appeared. Beverly met his eye, fear settling in her chest as she gulped.

    "Hi, Daddy." Her voice came out in a choked whisper, a side only her father could bring out in her.

    "Hey, Bevvie." His eyes flickered down at her grocery bag and back up at her. "Whatcha got there?"

    Her eyes fluttered down to the concealed box of tampons in the bag, knowing, no, dreading this day. This is what she had feared would happen. Why, she cursed herself. Why the fuck hadn't she just done this in the safety of Y/n's apartment?

    "Just some things,"

    "Like what?" He took the bag from her hands and rifled through.

    He grinned suddenly and his eyes zeroed in on Bev. She felt her whole body stiffen in terror. He knew now. And there was no telling what he would do. Her eyes drifted to the wall behind him, and there they stayed, much too frightened to look him in the eye. His rough and calloused hand touched the side of her face and she fought her instincts to recoil, knowing better.

    He brought her in close, and he closed his eyes. He took a long lingering sniff of her hair and she felt the icy cold grip of fear grasp her heart. Tears pooled in her eyes and his hand fell to her long red hair, and he now held it in his palm. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, fear prickling her skin and he stroked her red locks with his thumb, possessively.

    "Tell me you're still my little girl."

   Two little words, she told herself. Two little words she had to say and it and he would be on his way. Hopefully.

    "Yes, Daddy."

    "Good."

    His palm returned to the side of her face, and he motioned her away. A flooding sense of relief washed over her and she slipped around him and disappeared into the safety of the bathroom.

    Her palms gripped the sink, and the running faucet almost completely covered the noise of her distraught sobs. Her salty tears that fell from her cheeks landed in the sink and were carried down the pipes along with the rest of the running water. A long and slender pair of silver scissors lay next to her palm on counter. With a shaky hand, she brought the scissors up to her loose hair.

    The hair that he strokes, the hair that he smells, and the same fucking hair that draws every unwanted eye in town, including her own father. Grasping a long lock of hair, she hesitated. Only once. But countless memories flooded her at once. How many times he looked at her, how he looked at her. No. No more.

    She snipped a lock of hair and she smelled the whiff of freedom it brought. The feeling disappeared just as quickly as it had come but and was soon replaced by more spite. Spite and fear.

    "This is what you did," she whispered, cutting another chunk of hair. "This is what you..."

    She grabbed another chunk of hair, eagerly. Desperately.

    "This,"

    Another lock gone.

    "And this,"

    She kept her eyes on the sink, watching wisps of orange hair circle the drain before disappearing. She angrily grasped larger chunks of hair, working feverishly. The hair fell from her head so fast, it began to pile up in the sink. Sobs racked her body and her hand returned to her head and she realized there was no more.

    For the first time she let her herself look at her reflection. There stood a sad and frightened young girl. Beverly ran a hand through her shortened hair, lingering on her scalp as she adjusted to the new feeling. Her once long and gorgeous head of hair was no more, choppy and uneven curls was all that was left. It was short and messy, not unlike hair she'd find on most boys at her school.

    Good.

[●●●]

    Y/n didn't know why she bothered looking in her drawers for clothes, she barely had any in the first place. Decent clothes at least, just about everything she owned was second hand and it was not uncommon that they were torn slightly in places.

    She wondered why the hell she was nervous in the first place. Then her fingers found the familiar nylon of the swimsuit fabric, and she sighed. Right.

    Y/n and Bev had agreed to go swimming with a bunch of boys they barely knew. It wasn't that hard to connect the dots when they mentioned where they were going, it was the quarry after all. But it never quite dawned on her until now, that she was going swimming with several boys she barely knew. Even though Bev would be there, that wasn't exactly a comfort. She never quite had her friend's confidence.

    Despite her home life and all the nasty whispers that floated through town, Beverly didn't let it affect how she saw herself, a quality Y/n admired. The same couldn't quite be said for herself. She could barely afford to go to school at Derry High, her family worked paycheck to paycheck just to send her to school. And she didn't like to talk about it, but Beverly had time and time again lent her money for little things that she couldn't afford herself. In fact, she had a few old jackets and shoes that Beverly had given her.

    The two girls were more than thankful for their friendship, both a perfect fit for one another, like two pieces of a puzzle. Each of them were able and willing to give the other what they could provide, whether it was some borrowed money, or a safe haven away from a leering father, and of course a never ending source of love and support. But of course, occasionally, no matter how hard she fought, the little green monster wormed its way into her mind. It always managed to pluck her most treasured memories with Bev, and stain it with jealousy, rotting it with envy and disgust. It picked at her confidence and fed her venomous lies that completely contorted their friendship.

    Like the only reason people knew about her was because she was friends with Beverly. It was the beautiful Beverly Marsh and ol' What's Her Face. She would occasionally catch herself wishing she could draw attention like that, but she quickly dismissed it. No, she shook her head, ridding herself of the thought, no it's not worth it. She reminded herself of all the horror stories she had heard from Bev, and had witnessed for herself, in the many years of their friendship.

    Sure, she was easily noticed by cute guys at her school, and that was fun and exciting at her age, but she was also noticed by older men. Men like Mr. Keene, and he was only one example in dozens of men all over town. Not to mention her own father. Any time the little green monster returned, it diminished itself in the pity Y/n felt for her best friend. But that didn't mean it wasn't hard for Y/n to hear the many names she had been called. "Filthy little tramp!"

    And not to mention the countless side glances followed by surprise from boys - and girls - that she had in fact been there standing next to Bev the whole time, and they only just noticed her. She was always the sidekick. "So ditch the street rat and we'll go to the movies, you and me."

    Anytime anybody thought she couldn't hear them, they spoke ill of her. Hell, not even then, most people didn't care if she overheard. Usually, they were trying to persuade Bev in one way or another to leave her behind.

   "What is she, your little puppy dog? Just tell her you're sick or somethin' and you're home free,"

   "Look, you're friend seems... nice, but she doesn't fit in with us. Either come alone or don't come at all."

    Of course, Beverly never bought into that crap. Y/n was too important to her, she was Beverly's saving grace after all. And there was no way in hell she would let anyone talk about Y/n that way.

   "Then I guess I'm not coming." She'd reply. "If you really need a date so bad just take the stick up your ass,"

    Y/n smiled at the memory. Oh, how she relished in the shock on their faces. That particular comeback had them running away with giddy laughter as they wove through the halls, the angry trio of boys after them. They found sanctuary in a small hiding spot behind the school where they remained until the trio gave up and went home with slightly deflated egos.

    This was another reason Y/n was ashamed to have these thoughts, Beverly clearly cared for her and would be very upset to know she thought these things of herself.

    As Y/n pulled her worn out jean shorts over her bathing suit, she searched her bed for the t-shirt she had set aside. She slipped it on and as she looked in the slightly cracked mirror she felt a small bud of confidence blooming in her chest.

    Beverly had her back, and she had hers. And she knew if Richie ever made some comment about her, Bev would shut it down if she hadn't first. The bud of confidence spread in her chest as she could feel herself being persuaded.

    That was, until she noticed the tag on the outside of her shirt. She sighed exasperated, and quite frankly, rather exhausted. Y/n hadn't gotten much sleep the previous night. If she tried hard enough, she was able to push the memory to the back of her mind and forget, but only for the day. Then of course, if was time for her to go to bed. Then every detail of what she saw, what she felt, was amplified in the silence of her room. She flinched at every creek in the walls, every car that passed by.

    And she didn't dare move her feet out from under her blankets, no matter how hot she felt. Of course, this ended up being one of the reasons it was difficult to fall asleep.

    Y/n counted herself lucky she fell asleep at all. And yet, the thought of being unconscious, completely unguarded and unprepared, where anything could happen - anything could get her - was just as unsettling. She wished Beverly was there with her, but she knew she had to sleep alone eventually.

    Right on cue, she heard the soft rap on wood come from down the hall in the living room. Beverly was here. Casting one last glance at her reflection, and her shirt now fixed, Y/n took a deep breath and made her way to the front door. She made the mistake of glancing at the carpet and the faded red stain and she felt a sudden prick of fear in her heart and the sudden hyper-awareness of her injury. Trying not to give it much thought, she took a deep breath returning her attention to the door, swiftly stepping over the spot on the carpet.

    Her attention focused on undoing the many locks on the door, she failed to notice her friend's new look through the window. It came as quite a surprise to Y/n, having only known Beverly with long hair. She would have brought it up if it wasn't for the look on Beverly's face.

    Her eyes were on the ground and when the door opened, Bev slowly met Y/n's eye. She recognized the look in Bev's eye, a look that screamed 'I really don't want to talk about it right now.' A look she had given to her not too long ago herself. Y/n plastered on a smile and broke the small moment of silence.

    "You ready?"

×××

    Richie Tozier does not hold back when it comes to spitting contests. Himself, Stan, Bill, Ben, and Eddie were standing at the cliffs edge, stripped down to their underwear and Richie was first up to bat. He did not shy away from whatever method he needed to conjure the spitball, no matter the foul noises he made in the process. He reeled back and launched the spitball over the cliff, and the rest of the boys followed suit.

    Eddie flinched when his own mucus landed on the rocks near his feet.

    "Oh, my God, that was terrible. I win." Richie exclaimed.

    Eddie looked at him, dumbfounded. "You won?"

    "Yeah."

    "Did you see my loogie?"

    "That went the farthest!" Richie argued, gesturing where he spit. "It's by distance."

    "Mass. It's always been mass."

    Richie began sputtering in disbelief, but Eddie continued.

    "Who cares how far it goes? It matters how cool it looks, like it's green or it's white or juicy and fat."

    Ben cringed, and he met eyes with Bill who gave him a look that said 'see what I have to put up with?' He shook his head, shutting down the conversation before it continue further.

    "Who's first?"

    There was a brief moment of silence and the boys looked over the cliff into the emerald waters, contemplating the jump.

    "I'll go!"

    They turned their heads to see Beverly Marsh and Y/n L/n. Beverly had been the one to speak and she dropped her bike to the ground before discarding her dress. Their eyes widened and Beverly smiled.

    "Sissies," she laughed.

    She broke into a light jog, the boys parting like the red sea and she launched herself off the cliff.

    "What the fuck!" Richie exclaimed.

    They looked at the water in which Beverly had disappeared, completely dumbfounded. Suddenly and in perfect sync, they looked to Y/n, almost expecting to see her do something equally surprising but she merely gave them an odd look. She set down her bike and shifted on her feet uncomfortably.

    "What?"

    They all broke out of their gaze, rather obviously, and tried to look anywhere but her, knowing they'd been caught.

    She had to remind herself that she wasn't the only one who would be undressed, and everyone else, besides herself, already was. Taking advantage of their distracted nature, she quickly slipped off her shorts and t-shirt, making sure to slip out of her shoes as well.

    "Come on!" Beverly's voice was distant, but it grabbed everyone's attention.

    Bill was the next to make the jump, followed by Ben. Next was a less than eager Stan, leaving Richie, Eddie and Y/n who had cautiously joined them at the edge. Richie looked between Eddie and Y/n, then back to the water.

    He sighed deeply, taking a step forward and removing his glasses, and tossing them on his pile of clothes.

    "Well, fuck" He took a deep breath and jumped off the cliff, leaving Eddie and Y/n alone.

    They shared an equally nervous look with a few uneasy smiles. Y/n peered over the edge, scanning the water for a safe space to land. As she waited for the moving figures of Richie and Stan swimming away from the landing zone, Eddie couldn't help but look at her. Observing the small crinkle of her brow and how unsure she felt, he felt his own fears vanish. Something inside him wanted to make her feel less nervous, and perhaps that was his own way of deflecting his own fears but he didn't care.

    "I'll go if you go," he offered.

    She looked at him in slight surprise, and a small smile tugged at her lips. Y/n looked between Eddie and the water, shifting weight off of her bad leg. This smile was less forced, and genuine, it was thankful. And Eddie felt a wave of nerves bubbling in his stomach, not at the jump, but the kindness in her eyes, and the way she mentally built herself up.

    She nodded and they both gazed at the lake below, everyone was looking at them now. They had cleared a space and Eddie and Y/n could hear the remarks being made by their friends.

    "On three?" She asked, quirking a brow.

    "On three." He nodded, backing up slightly. "One,"

    Y/n suddenly shook her head, stepping back and spoke at a rapid rate, cutting Eddie off.

    "Fuck, if I wait that long I'll change my mind. Let's go," Without warning, she grabbed his hand and jumped off the cliff, giving him no choice but to jump with her.

    It never even occurred to Eddie that he could have let go of her hand.

    Eddie felt his heart leap into his throat and he was certain time stopped still as he was suspended in air. Perhaps it was the sudden change in view and the fact he was practically pulled off the cliff and how high he was above the water, or maybe it was her hand around his - no, nope. It was the height, definitely the height.

    On their way down he gasped in fear at the rapidly approaching water and he felt her hand leave his as she braced for impact. Eddie tried not to think of the millions of germs in the water, and he could feel the thousands of bubbles grazing his body as he sunk deeper into the water. When he emerged he gasped for air, reminding himself to steady his breathing, less he have an asthma attack. He realized his throat was sore and that he must have screamed the whole way down.

    He looked round at the cheering figures of his friends, whooping and cheering them on. Though he tried not to panic when he counted only five figures above the surface. Just before he could ask where she was, Y/n burst out of the water next to Ben, gasping for air.

    "Holy shit!" She wiped her face with her hand, clearing the drops of water obstructing her vision.

    "Took you long enough," Bev smirked.

    Richie nodded. "Yeah, too bad you guys missed out. We were just about to pack it up and call it a day."

    Eddie rolled his eyes and Y/n sunk further into water, all the way up to her nose.

Y/n concentrated on kicking her legs and her arms moved back and forth under the water keeping herself afloat. The others, specifically Richie and Eddie, had already launched into another debate.

    "Do you have any idea, how filthy this water is. We'll be lucky if we don't contract something, I am serious right now. So forgive me if I am a little hesitant to jump into this cesspool of germs and bacteria. Not to mention the several loogies that are floating around here somewhere, or did you forget already?"

    "Oh sure, now you're worried about loogies, Mr. 'juicy and fat'"

    Bev, who had begun looking around her in confusion and slight concern, spoke up. "Loogies?"

    "Juicy and fat?" Y/n asked disgusted, her face scrunched up, looking questioningly between Richie and Eddie.

    Eddie blinked once, and shook his head. Desperate to change the subject, he diverted his attention back to Richie, pretending Y/n hadn't heard that.

    "Besides, if we weren't careful enough, we could have seriously hurt ourselves jumping from that height. Even if we knew there were no rocks in the water, a fall from from anything higher and we could have died, I'm not doing that shit again. If you want to go swimming, fine by me, but I'm not jumping anymore, I'll just meet you guys down here."

    "Don't be such a drama queen Eds, you jump a million times if it meant you had a pretty hand to hold on the way down and you know it, "

    Y/n looked to Richie, her brows furrowing and she was thankful the water was already concealing her pink cheeks. Eddie, unfortunately did not have the same luxury.

    "Fuck you, Richie,"

    Richie smirked. "Eddie, please, now's not the time for romance."

    Eddie's face scrunched up and he splashed Richie in the face, who had began chuckling at his friends response. Immediately, he retaliated with a splash of his own. Unfortunately, it hit Stan who frowned, and splashed back. It wasn't long before the entire group was involved, save for Y/n who was giggling off to the side where she was free of any water hitting her face.

    "Alright, alright," Stan waved his arms around, signaling for a truce. "Alright!"

    Everyone settled down and the water began to calm.

    "We should-" Stan was briefly interrupted by splash to the face, and he stopped to glare at Richie and sighed, wiping his face. "Chicken, we have enough people, who wants to play?"

    "Me against wheezy first," Richie jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at Eddie, who had in fact been wheezing. "I need to defend my title and he made it awfully clear last time he thought he could take me,"

    "I can asshole, I already told you. I had an asthma attack, if I hadn't I would have won and you know it."

    "Wanna prove it?"

    "Oh, it is so on, dickhead. Same circumstances, same partners, Stan come on!"

    Already regretting his decision to bring it up, Stan fell in line with the others as they entered shallow waters. Bill lifted Richie on his shoulders, and Stan lifted Eddie. Beverly had swam over to join Y/n and the two girls watched the chicken fight with great amusement.

    Y/n almost didn't notice the quiet figure of Ben, who had joined them off to the side. He had been neglecting to speak, but she recognized the longing look of wanting to fit in. She smiled, and swam over to join him. He seemed surprised she had joined him, but he returned the smile, albeit a bit nervously.

    "How's your stomach, Ben?"

    "Huh?" Ben gave Y/n a funny look, but before she count point out his stomach injury, it seemed to click "Oh! Oh, yeah, uh, it's feeling better, thank you. What about you? H-How's your leg?"

    "Better, thank you."

    A genuine smile tugged at her lips, feeling herself relax at the company of the boy. Y/n had barely known him, but she was intuitive enough to know that he was timid and kind. And though she was enjoying the new company of the other boys, it was nice to have a more relaxed presence. Though there was Stan, but Y/n had yet to get to know him.

    Their attention was pulled back to the chicken fight when they heard a sharp yelp and felt the water shift around them. And there sitting atop Stan's shoulders, waving his arms triumphantly was Eddie, whooping and hollering.

    A smirk grew on Y/n's face at this. It only grew wider when Richie emerged.

    "Foul!" Richie exclaimed, pointing at Eddie and shifting effortlessly into another persona. "Aaaaand Kaspbrak is outta the game!"

    "What? What the hell are you talking about?" Eddie asked, waving his arms slightly.

    "You pushed me, that's a foul."

    "That's the whole premise of the game! Of course I pushed you!"

    "You know what I mean, dillhole, you shoved my shoulders! That's a foul!"

    "No, that's allowed. The attackers get to use any means necessary to knock the opposer down, that's stated very clearly in the rules!"

    "Show me this rule book Eds, cause it's sounds an awful lot like you're making this shit up just because you can't win without playing dirty!"

    "Or maybe you just can't stand the fact that I beat you! I'm the one with the title now, aren't I?"

    "Oh, is that so-?"

    Ben, who had been growing uncomfortable from the heated argument, spoke up nervously. At least he tried to, but Y/n was the only one who heard him so she cleared her throat, grabbing everyone's attention. Ben seemed relieved.

    "Why don't we just do new teams?"

    "G-good idea," Bill spoke up, and he looked around the small group. "W-who wants t-to go next?"

    "Oh, I want to play!" Bev smiled walking against the water into the shallower parts of the water, but she stopped briefly, looking over her shoulder. "Ben, do you want to be my partner?"

    Ben tried to hide his blush, and he shyly nodded his head. "Uh, sure, yeah."

    Ben joined her, but she began looking around. "Alright, who's opposing?"

    Beverly caught Y/n's eye, and gestured hopefully over. Y/n smiled nervously and shook her head, her lips pressed into a firm line, and Bev shrugged.

    "Alright then, Richie, why don't you play us, if you're clearly an expert."

    "Gee, I would but my shoulders are killing me, I think I'm out for the season,"

    "Grow up, asshole, just go." Said Eddie, who had dismounted Stan's shoulders.

    "Well, since you asked so nicely," Richie said. "Bill, you're up."

    "W-why don't we let someone else g-go?"

    "Why? S'the matter with you?"

    Bill shrugged. "N-nothing. Just thought I'd l-let someone else go."

    Richie gave him an odd look but shrugged it off. "Fine,"

    Richie then spotted a Y/n, at least who he assumed was Y/n - he didn't have his glasses after all - who was hiding in the water, despite how shallow it was. It finally clicked that she had barely said a word since, well, since she and Bev showed up, he realized. She seemed different, she held herself differently than how she was in class. In class, she usually was able to keep up with his quick wit. He never told her this, but he enjoyed her company. He pegged her as someone who was quick witted and didn't take shit from anyone, and he admired that.

    But now she was quiet and reserved. Hell, she must be sitting on her ass right right now just to stay under the water. Richie didn't understand this. Now facing her, he dug his hand in the water and splashed her face, ripping her out of her thoughts, and she looked at him startled.

    She had to wipe away the fresh water droplets running down her face, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

    "What the hell?"

    "Come on, I need a partner and Denbrough bailed. You're up."

    She scoffed, slinking deeper into the water.

    "Come on, whatya', chicken?" He quipped, quirking an eyebrow.

    If he knew anything about this girl, she wasn't one to shy away went it came to making a comeback. Sure enough, she rolled her eyes and raised her head ever so slightly so her lips were above the water.

    "No, I'm not, that's why I'm not playing." She said snidely.

    He smiled triumphantly to himself, considering it a win he was able to get her to speak more than three words.

    "Come on, toots, it'll be fine. We'd make a great team!" He exaggerated a dopey grin and gestured for her to join him.

    Richie may have been blind as a bat, but he could tell she was considering it. She looked around at everyone, who was watching the exchange expectantly. Y/n didn't know if it was everyone's stares or the fact the fact she was genuinely tempted but she gave in and made her way over to him.

    Richie, who still wasn't completely sure is she was moving or not, gave her a cheeky wink, and pushed his luck even further. "I'll let you be on top,"

    Richie expected a comeback or a even a scoff from her, not a pair of hands roughly shoving him into the water by his shoulders. Naturally he figured, one of his friends had done this, tired of his antics and found a unique way to shut him up, but then he felt a pair of legs take a seat on his shoulders and he knew it was Y/n.

    Once he was sure she was secure he rose up out of the water, gasping for air when he reached the surface. The others, cheered her on, welcoming her to the fun.

     She nearly tipped over as he readjusted in the sand, but she grabbed onto his hair by his scalp and he winced.

    "Ah, watch it! I am quite fond of my scalp, you know,"

    "As long as you watch that trashmouth of yours Tozier, one more comment like that and I'll drown you," she peered over his head, giving him a light but slightly teasing glare.

    Nevertheless, she loosened her grip and he blinked a few times, his scalp tingling. "Duly noted,"

    Nobody seemed to hear the small chuckle that escaped Eddie who had been watching, quite impressed with her ability to shut the boy up. He'd have to ask her how she does it.

    "Alright, come on, we gonna play or what?" Bev asked, despite the grin that worked its way onto her face.

    She too was happy to see her friend coming out of her shell, she could tell she had been nervous and Richie proved to be a big help, much to her surprise.

    "It's on, we have got this in the bag!" Richie bragged, getting into position across from Ben.

    Richie cast a glance up to his partner and smiled cheekily, batting his eyelashes. "Right babe?"

    Immediately she whacked his head with her hand and he winced once more. "What did I just tell you?"

    "Alright, alright! Jeez," He tightened his arms around her legs, securing her in place and he took a step forward towards their opponents. "But do keep in mind, we are on the same team, you want to hit the other players"

    He missed the eye roll she gave, but nevertheless she smirked, shaking out her arms, getting ready for the match.

    Bill, who usually announced the beginning of a round, did just that. With one simple word, the girls locked in on one another, theirs hands interlaced and they each pushed with all their might.

    There were several close calls, on both teams, but they always persevered. Unexpectedly, Richie took a few steps back, and Ben, confused by his tactic, stepped forward after them. Though both of them moved slowly, their speed affected against the water, and Y/n nearly tipped over, but her balance was regained when Richie leaned forward and ran forward against the water, tipping Y/n forward and giving her more momentum.

    Catching Bev off guard she was able to prove successful in her efforts to push her over. Beverly came tumbling off of Ben's shoulders, and almost kicked the poor boy in the face on the way down. Richie and Y/n cheered victoriously, and even Ben cracked a smile at their unexpected move.

    Eddie, who had found himself rooting for them, despite his previous grudge against his old opponent, whooped and hollered at their win. Bill and Stan cheered as well, and Beverly broke the surface, a big smile on her face.

    Y/n had already forgotten her nerves and felt a swelling sense of comradery and a growing respect for her partner.

    "Alright, ready to put this to the ultimate test?" Richie asked, addressing his partner and the rest of the group. "New champs, versus old champs,"

    Y/n smiled, looking to Eddie and Stan hopefully, now completely invested in the fun. Eddie felt a swell of confidence and gave in, Stan joining him.

    "Fine, but no playing dirty," Eddie mocked, looking at Richie.

    Richie smirked. "No promises,"

    Eddie, who now struggled to climb onto Stan's shoulders, scoffed.

    Eventually, everyone was situated and Eddie suddenly felt a small flurry of butterflies in his stomach that he briefly mistook for nausea. But he realized that it was in fact butterflies when he saw Y/n opposite him. They were brought closer by their respective partners who stepped forward, preparing for the match. She glared playfully at him, a small smirk on her lips and she outstretched her arms ready to fight. He hadn't realized the match had begun until he was forced to scramble for balance on Stan's shoulders when she went for his arms.

    Their hands interlaced for the second time that day and now he was certain his racing heart was caused by this. Nevertheless, he pushed those feelings aside, reminding himself he wanted to beat Richie again, but the motivation to do so was weaker this time. Though he didn't let this shake his competitiveness so he matched her strength and the two laughed and grunted as they both tried desperately to push one another down.

     Each of them found the other to be a surprising match for themselves. They would often find themselves going for the same opportunities only for the other to be prepared for it. Everyone was now completely invested in the match, everyone cheering them on though they didn't quite know which team they were rooting for.

    Eventually, Stan and Richie had had the same idea and moved in closer in an attempt to push the limits. Both Richie and Stan were beginning to lose interest in who would win, eager to give their arms and legs a break. When they both moved in closer, hoping one of their partners would take advantage of the distance and strike, but once again the pair had the same idea. They leaned into the momentum, each giving one last push and much to everyone's surprise, they both fell on their backs, crashing against the water and earning a small sting from the contact.

    Y/n sunk into the water, slower and slower and she felt her back lightly hit the sand. She felt something graze her ankle, her bad ankle, and before she could stop herself her eyelids ripped open. She flinched in the water, pulling her leg away and she had to blink several times just to adjust to seeing underwater, her heart pounding in fear. But much to her relief, right where her ankle had been, she saw a piece of plastic poking out of the sand, swaying back and forth.

    She would have breathed a sigh of relief but she saved her breath and returned to the surface. She had already lost a small puff of air when she had inadvertently yelped at the contact the plastic had made with her foot.

    Her small panic seemed to have gone unnoticed by the group and everyone had begun milling about, getting lost in their own conversations.

    Y/n looked around at her new friends, and she felt a warmth grow in her chest. By now, she had joined them in deeper waters, once again slinking back into the water but this time it wasn't from fear of judgement but staying cool in the warm June sun. Everyone was lost in their own conversations but she knew she was just apart of this group as everyone else was. As she looked around at all the smiling faces, she relaxed.

    An unexpected laugh escaped her as she saw Eddie holding Richie under the surface and she swam over in their direction. Richie popped up for air and slapped the boy away, though he still wore a goofy grin. Eddie, unlike Richie, was unaware of her approach, a fact Richie declined to give away.

    Y/n was now just behind him, a sly grin on her face and Stan, who had noticed her intentions, called out Eddie making him turn around.

    Sure enough, he whirled around, his face half a foot away from Y/n and she splashed the unsuspecting Kaspbrak boy in the face. On instinct, he whirled back around, only for Richie to do the same and he desperately wiped his face.

    "What the hell is happening!" It came out in shriek that amused everyone in the group.

    Richie and Y/n both let out a chortle of laughter, and soon even Stan had joined in. Though he didn't know whether or not it was from the excitement he felt or the fact the trick he had fallen for that twice in a row, Eddie began to feel the effects of his friends contagious laughter ripple through himself. He shook his head, hoping the smirk he was fighting would be shaken off as well but no matter his efforts, is was glued on his face.

    Though something in Stan compelled him to get back at Richie - who was enjoying all too much the fact he now had help in teasing Eddie - that he decided to splash Richie without warning. Perhaps it was because he wanted to catch Richie off guard, like Richie had done to him earlier. No matter the reason, Stan enjoyed doing it anyway. Richie retaliated and and yet another water war had begun.

    Y/n wore a smile as bright and warm as the sun above her as she looked around at her new friends, more than grateful she had fallen down the steps and met these boys. Y/n chuckled at their antics, grabbing Eddie's attention. He hadn't realized he had been staring until she turned to meet his eye. His first instinct was to pretend he hadn't been looking but instead he broke eye contact briefly and chuckled weakly and he smiled at her.

    Y/n didn't seem to mind, and she smiled back and her shoulders moved slightly as she chuckled.

    "It's okay," His pulse quickened, scared she was speaking of his staring. "I won't splash you anymore,"

    He chuckled and nodded slightly, words failing him. He directed his attention to Richie and Stan and her gaze followed. They were both struggling to submerge the other under the water, past them, Bill and Beverly watched equally amused.

    Y/n yelped when she felt a small nip on her foot and she quickly retracted her leg. Oh, come on! She swam backwards, eyes scanning the water though it proved to be useless. The others joined her side, worried expressions on their faces.

    "W-what happened?"

    "What's wrong?"

    Eddie, who looked particularly worried and rather startled, knowing he would regret going swimming one way or another, began scanning the water backing up.

    "What! What is it?"

    "I think something bit me!"

    Everyone began shifting around the water and Ben, with a burst of bravery, disappeared under the water and began searching.

    Y/n was curious as to why these kids heard about something lurking in the water and biting and somehow thinking it was worth exploring, but a part of her was curious too. Bill soon joined the boy underwater and Y/n had almost begun to grow worried when Bill popped back up, pointing where Y/n had been.

    "It's a turtle!"

×××

    Not long after they kids found the turtle lurking at the bottom of the quarry, their skin began to prune and their limbs grew tired from swimming.

    The boys, who had come prepared with Bill's boombox and Eddie's towels, the kids had dried off. The boys had all found a spot on the rocks and after much persuasion, Beverly had convinced Y/n to sunbathe with her.

    Her confidence from earlier had waned, but at the time, the boys were far too distracted fighting over the radio channels and what they wanted it on.

    Tuning out the guys, Y/n allowed herself the distraction Beverly provided with small talk. The two had been laughing about the day's events and Y/n had even begun to drift off. She hadn't realized how tired she was until she had lied down. After all, she had only gotten roughly three hours sleep the prior night and her limbs had grown exhausted from swimming all day, her leg especially.

    Unaware of how much time had passed, Y/n stirred awake when she realized the lyrics of Young MC's Bust A Move had slipped into her subconscious.

   "These here's a jam for all the fellas, Tryin' to do what those ladies tell us,"

    Stan, Richie, Ben and Bill look on in disbelief at the two beautiful girls sunbathing before them. How did this happen, they wondered.

   "Get shot down cause ya overzealous, Play hard to get females get jealous,"

    Eddie, who had yet to find a seat, stood frozen next to the guys. He blinked several times, trying desperately to look anywhere but their direction, Y/n especially, though he couldn't help but steal a few glances. An act he felt ashamed of.

   "Okay smarty, go to a party, Girls are scantily clad and showin' body"

    Y/n felt a yawn escape her and she covered her mouth with the back of her hand out of habit, her eyelids fluttering open. She had to squint, her eyes readjusting to the light and her stomach did a small flip when she felt several pairs of eyes in her direction.

    Timidly, she turned her head slightly to see the boys all staring at them. She felt her skin flush and she was sure she had turned pink, but the boys seemed even more mortified and they looked away, pretending not to have been staring at them.

    Beverly's attention was drawn by the noise of several throats clearing, and she was aware of how silent it had been. She tilted her head and made eye contact with Y/n, giving her a knowing look from behind her sunglasses accompanied by a small smirk.

    Y/n sat up, her bad leg stretched out and she pulled her other leg close to her chest, while Beverly had rolled on to her stomach. Richie began digging though Ben's stuff, holding a fake microphone to his face.

    "News flash, Ben," he was now speaking in his posh reporter persona. "School's out for summa!"

    "Oh, that?" Ben asked, looking at the evidence he had collected from the library. "That's not school stuff."

    Richie pulled out a postcard of Derry, a picture of the standpipe on the back. "Who sent you this?"

    Before he could read what was written on the other side, Ben had snatched it back. "No one. Give it..."

    Richie didn't think much of it, his attention fell to the blue folder sticking out of Ben's backpack and he eagerly pulled the folder out.

    He opened it up, Stan and Eddie peeking over his shoulder to take a look.

    "What's with the history project?" Eddie asked, curiously.

    "Oh," Ben shrugged looking around at the group who was now listening intently. "When I first moved her, I didn't have anyone to hang out with,"

    As Ben spoke, Richie handed the folder to Bill who had shown interest.

    "so I just started spending time in the library."

    "You went to the library?" Asked Richie, his face scrunched up in confusion. "On purpose."

    Y/n scoffed. "Don't listen to him Ben, he's just insecure that he can't read above a fourth grade level."

    She sent Richie and smirk and a wink, knowing full well of his intellectual capabilities. Something she had picked up in the year spent in class with him. He was in fact a very bright kid, despite his poor manners and his inability to not speak out of turn. Richie just rolled his eyes.

    "Well, I wanna see." Beverly got up from her spot on her towel and took a seat next to Bill.

    Stan had caught a glimpse of the scratchy handwriting on the old photograph Bill and Bev were looking at.

    "What's the Black Spot?" He asked.

     "The Black Spot was a nightclub that burned down years ago by that racist cult."

    "The what?"

    "Don't you watch Geraldo?"

    Y/n chuckled at the utter disbelief and surprise on Eddie's face and Richie met her eye, joining in. He was just about to give him more grief when the pair heard Bill begin speak.

    "Y-y-your hair..." He had been talking to Beverly, but Y/n couldn't help but listen in, curious herself to why her friend had cut it.

    Before he could finish, Ben jumped in and Beverly peered over to meet his eye. He smiled warmly at her.

    "Your... Your hair is beautiful, Beverly."

    Her face had been neutral throughout the entire exchange but she smiled politely at the boy, tucking a loose curl behind her ear.

    "Oh, right. Thanks."

    No one but Y/n seemed to notice the awkward looks exchanged between Ben and Bill, and her lips pressed into a firm line, feeling awkward having witnessed this herself.

    Richie, whose attention was still on the folder that was now going unread by Bill, gestured for it.

    "Here, pass it."

    Bill complied, folding it up and passed it back to Richie. Y/n used her hands to shift herself up onto her feet, walked over and took a seat across from Eddie, facing everyone in the group. Richie was now shifting through the folder, Stan leaning over his shoulder for a look.

    "Why is it all murders and missing kids?" Richie asked, passing the folder to Stan.

    Y/n, who had shifted off her bad leg, readjusting so she was leaning on her arms and her legs outstretched in front of her, was now listening intently to Ben.

    "Derry's not like any town I've ever been in before. They did a study once, and it turns out, people die or disappear six times the national average."

    Everyone had been listening, and the group all fell silent for a brief moment, a quiet shock falling over them. Bev was first to break the silence.

    "You read that?"

    Ben shifted on the rocks, ever so slightly, and nodded. "And that's just grown-ups. Kids are worse. Way, way worse."

    Y/n's eyes had fallen from Ben to the ground, where they trailed over to he bandaged ankle and she gulped.

    "I've got more stuff if you wanna see it." Ben offered.

    Eddie's gaze, which had been worriedly fixed on Y/n and the frowned etched on her face, was torn away to the others, shaking his head 'no' and hoping they didn't say yes.

    They did.

+++

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[akaluan]

Erich/Kisuke/Alexis: Soulmate AU + Character in Peril Part 5

Degurechaff finds him later, hard at work in the command tent with all the lamps lit and stolen enemy papers strewn around him as he does what he’s been trained to do: analyze and plan. He’s not managed to glean much new from them, but the effort has at least helped settle his nerves.

“He’s left for now, sir,” Degurechaff announces as she steps up to his side and rises up on her toes to get a better view of the map he’s laid out. “More enemy camps for us to scout?”

“Yes.” He taps a finger against a marker not far from their current location. “I’m most concerned about this unit; I believe it to be a mage battalion that was called in yesterday.”

“We’ll need to deal with them quickly,” Degurechaff murmurs as she moves around the table to stand across from him. She steps up onto the crate left there to give her some height and leans over the table with a frown, head tilting a bit as she reads their scribbled notations. “If we go dark and do a short night march, we’ll be in place to raid a bit before dawn.”

Erich purses his lips in thought; they’ve only just returned from a raid, and most of their men will be tired. Degurechaff’s plan has some merit, but a battalion of grounded mages…

“How many of your mages will be available?” he asks.

“I can promise two companies,” Degurechaff answers easily. She straightens up and clasps her hands behind her back, meeting his gaze evenly. “If we bring two companies of infantry and two of mages, we can wipe them out before they can muster.”

“Very well.” Attacking is a risk, but leaving the enemy mages alive is more of one. Hopefully everything will go off without a hitch, but he’s not enough of an optimist to truly believe that.

Degurechaff watches him as he stacks the papers back up, her gaze a heavy weight that he doesn’t quite know what to do about. He had been a coward, had run from the confrontation—

“Your soulmate informed me that he is no longer a Shinigami,” she says out of the blue, tone deceptively mild.

Erich pauses and shoots her a look, trying to read her expression. “And what do you think?”

She hums and reaches up to adjust her cap, gaze going skyward for a moment. “I believe he’s telling the truth, sir, though his… manner of leaving is in doubt. He was quite reluctant to speak on it, especially with me.”

He sets the final stack of papers aside with a grimace, wondering what to make of Degurechaff’s words. While ‘not a Reaper anymore’ gives him a bit of hope, the reluctance to speak on why the man is no longer one is… not so hopeful. If the Reaper retired, why not say so?

Every other reason he can come up with is… troubling.

(His soulmate is a Reaper.)

(His soulmate might be a criminal—)

(No.)

(Don’t fixate.)

(He has a raid to enact soon.)

“Sir, if I may say… he seemed… troubled by the way you left,” Degurechaff offers into the silence. She steps down from the crate and moves back to his side, her ice-pale eyes unreadable. “I explained to him that genocide is not such an easily forgiven — or forgotten — thing, but I don’t know how much of that got through to him.”

“Probably very little,” Erich says dryly as he extinguishes the lamps and leads the way out into the night. “Every record my people left indicated that his people were…”

“One track minds, sir? Unwilling to compromise?”

He snorts before he can help himself, earning a flash of amusement from Degurechaff. “Quite.”

“You have my sympathies, sir. You have your work cut out for you if you want to try to make this work,” she murmurs as they make their way through the camp in search of the commanders they want.

“I…” He frowns, gripping his right wrist behind his back and letting a fragment of his attention drift to the continued press of reassurance-trust-loyalty. He wants him with a strength that’s frankly terrifying, even knowing that the man is a Reaper. A small, shameful part of himself wants to let the man just… continue what he’d been doing; taking out Erich’s enemies and making sure Erich sleeps and whatever else he’s doing while he’s out of sight.

(He hasn’t missed the fact that it’s been days since he’s seen a regretful soul, days since he’s heard a Hollow’s roar, days since he’s felt truly threatened by anything but the Reaper himself…)

Degurechaff looks up at him through her lashes, a quiet sort of strength radiating from her, and says, “Even if he’s no longer a Shinigami, sir, his mindset is almost certainly still there. However he was trained, his initial instinct was not to meet you face to face, but rather to wipe out two camps and sneak into our camp while we were asleep. Be careful how much trust you put in him, sir.”

“I know.”

“So long as you do.”

The rest of their trek through camp is made is silence.

(He wishes he had an answer for her.)

(He wishes he wasn’t so weak…)

(Why can’t he just… decide?)

(Coward…)

***

Erich crouches by a tree, rifle in his hands and his eyes straining in the predawn darkness. Only a few people are moving about in the camp in front of him; all just tired guards clearly wanting their shift to be over with. There’s a sense of laziness about the whole thing too, like they’re so confident in their victory that can’t even imagine a scenario where the enemy attacks.

(He sympathizes.)

(That was almost him a few years ago.)

(And then he learned his lesson.)

He waits. Breathes out his worries and focuses his mind and—

There!

The two guards in his view go down without a sound and a tiny figure rises to her feet and gestures move in.

He repeats the gesture to his men. Slips through the trees on quiet feet. Infiltrates the camp. Directs his men with hand signs and nods, ears straining to catch the first sign of discovery and—

“Enemy! Enemy in the camp!” a Republic soldier shouts.

Hell breaks loose.

He ducks under an enemy lunge. Slams the butt of his rifle into the man’s stomach. Follows through with a kick to the knees. Draws his pistol and fires as the enemy falls. Moves aside as the man’s partner lunges with a snarl, arrays lighting up the air—

A rifle cracks and the second man falls, dead before he hits the ground.

Degurechaff nods sharply and strides off, leaving him to his own job as she returns to the fight.

He holsters his pistol and moves on.

“They’re in the air!” one of his soldiers shouts in warning.

Erich scowls and brings his rifle up, barking “Concentrate your fire on the leader!” before pulling the trigger. Works the action and turns, following the mage’s path, presses strength-sharpness-disruption into his next bullet and fires—

The mage’s barrier shatters like so much glass.

He goes down.

Stays down.

There’s no time to think. He brings his rifle around. Sights on the next mage in line. Presses spiritual power into his bullet and pulls the trigger—

Another down.

More spiritual power. Another mage.

Again. A fourth.

He ducks aside and pulls a stripper clip from his ammo supply. Reloads his rifle and scans the sky, hunting for any airborne mages in range.

“Look out!”

Erich spins, feels an arm around his waist and the drag of wind through his hair, feels his feet leave the ground and closes his eyes as the world blurs—

“Maa, fancy meeting you here!” his soulmate says with a bright grin and a teasing lilt to his voice.

Erich wrenches himself free of the man’s grip. Scans the area and growls at the sight of trees around him and the enemy camp not far away. “Don’t take me from my men,” he snarls, fury overriding fear. He twists his rifle around and jams the butt into the Reaper’s chest, making the man stagger back a step. “Do that again and I’ll cut our link.”

The Reaper laughs, awkward and sheepish, and raises his hands in defense. “Maa, there was someone aiming at your back—”

“Then deal with them instead!” Erich grits his teeth and turns back to the enemy camp, scanning the sky with narrowed eyes. There are only a few airborne dots left, and he’s pretty certain that several of them are friendlies based on movement patterns. He’s confident that Degurechaff’s efficiency will have the sky clear shortly, which means they just need to finish cleanup.

He sets the safety on his rifle and slings it over his shoulder, striding away from the Reaper and back to camp, ignoring the way the man falls in step with him.

He doesn’t have time for this.

If the man wants to show his face, fine.

He’s sure Degurechaff and her men will be more than willing to show the asshole the error of his ways.

He’s tempted to let them.

(Goddamn stubborn Reaper!)

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Darth Vader

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

Here he is. The big one. The world’s most famous villain of all time, and this is no exaggeration; even people with only a fleeting knowledge of Star Wars, even people who have never seen it before in their lives, probably know who Darth Vader is. The dedicated an entire trilogy to showing how he ended up this way, and an entire trilogy to defeating him, and even after he’s dead his shadow looms over the new trilogy.

It’s really not hard to see why, either; everything about him just screams cool. He’s an intergalactic dictator wizard monk cyborg with a laser sword who has a castle on a lava planet and a space station the size of the moon that blows up planets, and that’s not even getting into the fact that he has the voice of Mufasa. Darth Vader is an icon, plain and simple, and if you think his status is all surface-level, well, this will hopefully show you there’s more to him.

Actor: There are a lot of people who put in the time to bring Vader to life, but let’s just go over the most notable actors. A lot must be said of David Prowse, the man in the suit during the original trilogy; while James Earl Jones’ voice certainly did a lot of work towards making Vader as intimidating and cool as he is, Prowse’s physical presence should absolutely not be understated. He’s the one who does the movements, who walks into the scenes, he was the one physically there, and it really cannot be said enough that he is a key aspect of why the original Vader worked, even if his voice was nowhere near intimidating enough.

Jones, of course, had a voice that was intimidating enough, and while Prowse brought the physical intimidation, Jones brought the vocal brilliance. Vader’s voice is so oft-arodied and iconic, and it’s all thanks to James Earl Jones’ stellar performance. IT’s just absolutely legendary no matter which way you cut it, to the point where even when he’s portraying a freshly-christened Vader who is still in the mindset of a whiny Anakin and screaming a massive NO to the heavens, he’s still awesome.

Of course, that does bring us to Anakin Skywalker, portrayed by Hayden Christensen, and who is the most divisive actor who played Vader, albeit in his pre-cyborg form. I think a lot of the problems Christensen was criticized for while portraying Vader in the prequels was due to Lucas and his poor direction, and not due to any inherent fault on his part, as Christensen is a good actor otherwise. Case in point: any scene in Revenge of the Sith where Christensen does not have to speak and instead has to rely on giving evil glares or just looking intimidating works. I think he does a great job in Revenge of the Sith overall, and his portrayal of Anakin definitely works best in that prequel due to him really selling the frustration of his superiors not taking him seriously or trusting him, which makes his eventual slide into villainy after putting his trust in Palpatine a lot easier to swallow.

Motivation/Goals: Vader’s motivations and goals are not exactly where he shines, as it is pretty standard evil overlord stuff: he wants to crush the rebels, serve his master, and do whatever needs to be done to ensure that the power he has does not get taken away. It’s standard stuff, and even at the time it likely wasn’t a wholly original idea, but part of the reason it probably feels so generic nowadays is that so many people in every art form imaginable – books, TV, video games, and other movies – have ripped Vader off to the point where he almost appears to be a generic doomsday villain if you only look at a summary of his goals. Thankfully, this is far from the case.

Personality: Vader’s personality is where he really shines. Revenge of the Sith paints the portrait of a brilliant, talented young man who is constantly looked down upon and ignored by his peers despite his numerous successes and who is unable to openly be with the woman he loves and who carries his children due to ridiculous rules; is it any wonder he was taken advantage of by a predatory elder and groomed into a psychopath, only realizing far too late what had been done to him? This aspect of his personality has often been criticized by those who hate the prequels, but I think it is important to show that Vader was once a normal, frustrated young man who honestly had good intentions and wanted to protect others, because it helps make his eventual turn away from the Dark Side and redemption at least be a little believable.

Once he truly becomes the Vader we all know and love, he loses sight of who he was and buries himself in the Vader persona. What happened on Mustafar with Padme and Obi-Wan broke Anakin, and so he truly throws himself into the Darth Vader identity. He becomes cold, ruthless, and downright terrifying, with only brief glimpses to the cornier, kinder persona that the man who hates sandf with a passion once had, the moment where he makes a lame pun in Rogue One being the perfect example of the cheesy Anakin of the prequels shining through if only for a brief moment before Vader’s final scene in Rogue One shows that Anakin has once more been suppressed and the terrifying Vader persona is out in full force, with the real Anakin only breaking through in the end to restore balance to the Force.

Final Fate: Vader, in a final act of heroism, picks up Palpatine and tosses him down into a pit to save the life of his son Luke. Ultimately, this means that Vader fulfilled that prophecy from so long ago and restored balance to the Force, redeeming him in the eyes of his son and allowing him to become one with the Force itself and stand beside his former mentors Obi-Wan and Yoda in the final scene. It is a bit cheesy and even a little hard to swallow if you think too hard, but come on, it’s a fun space opera where good triumphs over evil and true love prevails, so just let Anakin have his little redemption.

Best Scene: The scene in which he emerges from the pitch black hallway in Rogue One and mercilessly slaughters a group of rebels with absolutely no effort, washing away decades of diminishing returns and undermining of his threat level in under a minute as the franchise reestablishes Vader as the horrifying threat he originally was.

Best Quote: Can it really be anything other than the (at the time) mind-blowing reveal he drops on Luke in The Empire Strikes Back after Luke accuses him of killing his dad? Say it with me now:

“No, I am your father.”

Some of you probably said it wrong, but I can assure you the line written above is exactly as it was said in the movie.

Final Thoughts & Score: There’s honestly no denying the level of impact Darth Vader has had; I’d say he’s up there with characters like Mickey Mouse and Mario, just an instantly identifiable character anyone off the top of their heads can name. George Lucas struck gold when he came up with this guy, that’s for sure. Is it any wonder that there are so many characters all across fiction who draw inspiration from Vader?

Vader stands tall as one of the greatest creations in pop culture, and though characters that copy him tend to offer diminishing returns – with a few notable exceptions, of course – he definitely is a wonderful source of inspiration, especially when it comes to designing a character who is still interesting and absorbing despite having seemingly simple, cliched motives. And while it is true Vader comes off as a bit cliched these days because he pretty much wrote the book on a lot of the cliches attributed to him and his ripoffs, my point still stands, because even in modern times you’d be hard pressed to hear anyone call Vader a poor villain despite his main goal basically being “kill rebels.”

Vader is a rare breed, and so deserves a rare score. He is the only villain as of now I think truly deserves an 11/10. He is the villain other villains wish they could be. He is the most striking character in the entire cast. He’s so downright cool, is it any wonder his own grandson decided to emulate him by becoming his biggest fanboy?

While Vader does ultimately redeem himself in the end, it serves as a culmination of one of the most profoundly tragic character arcs in cinema, as a wide-eyed idealistic boy full of love, hope, and a sense of righteousness is slowly and surely broken down by the world around him and the very heroes he idolized to the point where he is preyed upon by a predatory authority figure who whispers everything he wants to hear in his ear and offers him something he never got before: respect… and then from there, his life spirals downward ever further, until he ends up being utterly consumed by hatred as he burns alive on an alien planet before the man he considered a friend and a brother, the knowledge that his wife feared him in his mind as he was fried to a crisp; and when he is finally brought back as a cyborg, his first moments awake again are shaken by the revelation his wife is now dead, and he is responsible. And then from his lowest point, we see Vader climb again into the light, extremely slowly, until that final choice he makes where he can either do the right thing as he was always meant to or continue subjugating the galaxy that beat him down and abused him.

The fact he chose to be good in the end despite everything in his life prior, despite all of the crimes he committed, really makes him a far more interesting character than if he had been straight-up evil to the core. Instead, he is the ultimate darkly tragic fallen hero given one last shot of redemption in the arms of death. It’s beautiful in the cheesy, dramatic way only Star Wars can be, and I think that more than anything is why Vader has endured as a cultural icon, because at his core he is everything beautiful, tragic, and cheesy about Star Wars rolled into one awesome, black-clad Sith Lord.

[honeylikewords]

why don’t you take your old posts down if you don’t want people liking them?? not being rude just curious.

Well, I actually have considered that. And, in some cases, it does seem like the best option, specifically regarding the old Grady posts, which I am sincerely considering taking down, and because of that, I answered a similar question to this one back when I was explaining why I don’t write for Grady anymore. 

The thing is, there’s also a couple of reasons not to do that for other cases. For example:

1. I don’t want to just get rid of my old work; I sometimes actually like the things I used to write, so on a certain level, I like being able to look back and see them and remember the pieces and enjoy them again. I guess I could just copy-paste them into a Google doc and archive them for myself that way, but it’s nice to have this blog in its entirety for me to look through on my own.

2. Some of these old posts seem to be the way people find my blog and then get interested in other things. I sincerely doubt I’d have any followers at all if I hadn’t posted Frank stuff, and if I didn’t still have it up now. While I’m not at all caught up about having a droves of followers, what I do care about is still getting interaction on this blog-- meaning people talk to me, I talk to them, I get anons that give me fun ideas to write and exercise with-- and it seems that one of the ways that people get interested in my blog and, by extension, the newer work I’m making is through these old posts.

3. I don’t necessarily hate or despise Frank Castle or Jim Hopper or even Shane Walsh (though out of the three, he’s the one I have the hardest time finding any remaining love for), nor hate the content I made for them. 

When I made that content, they were still good, rich, interesting characters with loveable sides to them (and, for Shane, I hadn’t watched every single one of his episodes, knowing full well that he only got worse with time, so I quit while I was ahead), and I know that, for many people, they’re only invested in that good side that we knew before they got progressively worse through their shows. 

I still hold nostalgia for early seasons Frank and actually do still like Hopper on some levels, and, heck, when Shane made that return on TWD, I was incredibly excited and it did re-light a small candle in my heart for the work that Jon did on that show, so I also understand that, for some people, they’re still running on those early-season-mindsets, the mindsets where they loved that character, and they don’t want to let that go. And I also understand that it’s a scale of badness and that these characters are not necessarily “entirely canceled”, and that there’s a lot of nuance in my opinions on these characters, and nuance in how other people look at them or try to reconcile early incarnations of them with their later downfalls (a la Daredevil season 2 Frank versus Literal Friend To A N*zi In Punisher season 2 Frank).

But the problem is that I get frustrated by the fact that A) people seem only interested in content for aggressive white men, B) people continue to seek out content for these aggressive white men after they have done incredibly reprehensible things within the most recent incarnations of their stories (for example, getting a huge influx of Frank fans immediately after season 2, meaning these people SAW him do all the horrible, horrible things he did in season 2 and still found him attractive and fetishized him for those self-same horrible things) and C) my very vanilla, SFW, loving, gentleness-focused posts for these characters get reblogged onto violence fetishizing blogs, serial killer blogs, IRL shooter blogs, etc, which violates not only the site policies, but also violates my work and my own feelings, horrifying me to think that my art is being consumed for its adjacency to sexualized violence. 

4. I actually still like Frank. I do. And I wish I could still write for him. But when I step back and look at the whole picture, I realize that if I did continue to, it would just be ignoring the problems created by his story and adjacent fandom, willfully ignoring the worst realities of this media and its biases, and what I want now is for people to be able to critically engage with that and know that it’s wrong to continue glorifying the violence and excusing the bigotry embalmed into the corpse of what used to be a good show and character. 

So I leave up my kinder, gentler posts to hopefully combat the masses upon masses of other posts that sensationalize, glorify, and deify his violence and aggression, hoping that maybe it’ll draw people into the conversation we need to collectively be having about the way we look at male characters, the way we look at violence, and the permissions we give to white (or white-passing) characters regarding violence and abuse that we don’t give to non-white characters.

That mentality is applied across the board to all the other characters.

5. Honestly? One day, I could come back around to these characters. Right now I’m at a stage in my life where I find it too difficult to reconcile the badness of the most recent incarnation with the good parts I saw earlier, and I also am trying to avoid seeming like I condone, excuse or turn a blind eye to these bad things by continuing to apologize for a character. But I might not always be in that stage, and may be able to someday articulate a more complex and nuanced understanding of media consumption and creation, and so I want to have these pieces of what I used to love about them still available to me if I ever change my mind. 

And what bothers me isn’t necessarily that people enjoy those old works-- they’re left up for that reason, so people (myself included) can enjoy them-- but rather that people engage with them uncritically, or without a conscientiousness about what it is, exactly, that they’re consuming. When I see people reblogging my old Shane posts, ones about family and healing and kindness, and then see on their blog that the other things they’ve reblogged are about him being brutal, violent, aggressively sexual, or demeaning towards women, it makes me aware that, in some way, people consider my content complicit with and equitable to content that allows for, excuses, or even adores and romanticizes the worst, most vile parts of characters like Shane or Frank or whomever. 

I know there are good fans out there. Good, critical, thoughtful fans who have been able to think about what it is they’re consuming and like parts of it anyway while simultaneously denouncing the bad parts. That’s what media consumption is, a lot of the time: balancing what we love about it with calling out what we hate about it. So I leave my posts up, hoping to find those thoughtful people who love what I love about it but also understand what there is to hate about it, too. But it worries me over and over that people continue to just glorify and digest abuse and violence as if it’s good, sexy, enticing, complex, or passionate, and that these people find my works and think that my work is aligning itself with these glorifications and digestions of wickedness.

[Obligatory line break!]

At the end of the day, though, I keep the posts up because they used to make me happy and they seem to continue to make other people happy. They get people to engage with this blog and hopefully find other, healthier things to enjoy. They’re not really even necessarily bad posts, sometimes, but when I post about being frustrated that these old posts are the only ones getting attention, what I’m frustrated with is the online cultural fixations on characters who seem to be nothing but aggressive white men. I’m frustrated not by my work, nor by people enjoying it, but by the awareness I have that this enjoyment can be connected to a tacit (or even outright) endorsement of white male violence. 

So I don’t take them down in the hopes that people will find my blog and engage with me about stuff I care about, stuff that I like to write nowadays instead of from however many years ago. I don’t take them down in the hopes that people will read them and be happy, or read them and see a more nuanced perspective on what makes a man attractive (which, 100% of the time on this blog, is gentleness, sensitivity, protectiveness, and kindness). And I like having these old pieces of my work to reflect on and learn from, and hopefully do better in future.

It’s a little like preserving a time capsule, in a sense: I may not like or need the things that were originally put into the capsule, but it’s sometimes nice to remember what they meant to me back then, and what they could mean to me some other day.

I know this response got ungodly long, so please don’t think of it as me roasting you; I promise, it’s not. It’s just me trying to articulate and explain how complicated it can be to negotiate the space between loving something-- for example, the work Jon did as an actor who I like and appreciate-- and the things there are to hate about it-- such as the detrimental portrayals of and subscription to hypermasculinity, violence, and white supremacy that can be found in this most recent Frank Castle iteration-- and why I have such a complicated, frustrated relationship with my old posts.

[tuxxer]

My thoughts on S5 of the magicians

Thoughts on Season five of the Magicians

                 So, as we finished Season four of The Magicians, we turn our thoughts on what is to come for the surviving members of the troop. Alas Quentin Coldwater joins the ranks of casualties during the war on magic. The Show treats death not as a finality, but merely as a plot device to advance a story line as needed. This time however the actor who plays Q, appears to have decided that there was no more to tell in his story and to leave the show on a personal high note.

                I have decided that the show needs a new direction and felt that it was time to bring you the reader along for the discussion. Season five for all intents and purposes is a clean slate in terms of story. Normally the previous season would set up the story for the following season at some point during the episode run. From what I could tell, almost every outstanding story arc has been resolved and the only new story arc is the deposition of high king fen and the current whereabouts of Josh Hoberman.

                The Twins have been cast into the seam, the director of the library has been killed in his attempts to achieve godhood, the fascist library state has fallen and hedge witches have gained a level of respectability in the eyes of classically trained Magicians. Only miscellaneous plot points remain. Fillory has been the subject of a hostile take over by the aptly named Dark Magician, Irene McAllister is still on the loose, the whereabouts of Santa, Panty sniffing pervert, Mayakovski, the chick from firefly I lost track of, along with Marina and Poppy.

  Elliot Waugh

                 Farm boy from Iowa. Has excellent leadership and organizational abilities and very confident in his magical abilities, the kind of person that you would follow to hell and back for a martini. That is if you’re an insecure person that has issues and a serious need to be accepted into a cool kid clique for personal validation. Probably a nice empathic guy if he knows you on a personal level, but only if he is the dominant.

                Has the ability to guide with out ordering and punishes by withdrawing friendship and patronage. Maintains a clique of disciples that adhere to his mindset, lives a lavish and flamboyant lifestyle and can level a scathing barrage of wit and sarcasm. Has intimacy issues arising from childhood and maintained a co-dependency with Margo.

                Of course, that is Season one Elliot. What I expect to see in the up coming season is a broken version of that Elliot with flashes of greatness followed by wallowing in self pity. This is of course up to the producers and they may have ideas on their note pads and emails about the direction they want to go.

                Elliot needs to go the way of Q in the books and become a teacher at Brakebills teaching what ever flavor of magic he has. He is ageing out of his past lifestyle and is in danger of being seen as an old person rather than the young edgy type he was. I am not someone that has the medical documentation to be able to diagnose Elliot, but I have known people like him. Living life like you don’t expect to make it past your thirtieth birthday and then waking up and realizing your no longer young and the phone no longer rings.

Margo Hanson

                Young, Beautiful, and the patron saint of mean girls everywhere. She comes to us from the west coast and a scion of a rich family. Wearing an aggressive wardrobe that promotes her confidence in that when she is in a room, you will know. An aggressive spitfire who hides a secret identity, with unusual talents and achievements. Like Elliot, she is highly competent with great organizational skills, and unlike Elliot has no problem with pointing out your flaws.

                Her command of invective is truly inspirational, her common sense shining when pulling out the pistol shocking the naïve Q and his prime directive in the nietherlands. Forming the second part of the co-dependency with Elliot, she enabled his lifestyle and validated him when perhaps she should have been making steps to evolve without the following seasons.

                For season five I expect that she will complete the transition that she has started in season 4, fully and without apology. Congruent to that, I expect that at some point in the season she is going to throw down with Elliot and tell him in her usual fashion to grow a set of tits and man up. As Janet, she has shown that she can run a major company and as Margo, that she can rule a kingdom.

                Mere time loops are not going to be a problem, this has come up before with Q and Julia arriving in Fillory sometime in WW2 England. We can expect that no matter the problem, this time Margo will be the one solving it, and probably much to Elliot’s discomfort.

  Kady Diaz

                 Kady is the anti-Margo, much the same ingredients but nature won out over nurture with her. The daughter of a hedge witch, admitted into Brakebills and expelled for stealing items for Marina. Coming to terms with this, she forms an unlikely partnership with Julia and ends up in a very frightening situation with Reynard the Trickster.

                Sharp and attractive and tends to be one of the more physical magicians in the group. Jock rather than cheerleader. When she is brave, she is fearless but when she is venerable, she goes introverted and runs. For Jade to shine she needs to be part of a team and up till now she has had nobody depending on her.

                I expect in Season five, Kady is going to have problems integrating the hedge witches and interfacing with whom ever is running the library. Enough has been done to the hedges that I could be forgiven for thinking not all of those hedges are going to be live and let live.

                Obviously, what I would like to see for her, is to return to the world of law enforcement and perhaps integrate that with the magical world. Much like the Auror’s do in the Harry Potter world. Bonus points if she takes up with the production of Dragon Porn.

     Julia Wicker

                 What can we say about Julia? Gorgeous, educated and fashion confident. She is no Margo that uses clothing to announce her presence. Dealing with her, your dealing with a professional that is not immune to the fact that she is attractive and can’t have her head turned by mere flattery.

                She has been in a race since Season one with Margo to see who transforms into the person that they are meant to. Combining talent and compassion and raw determination, she has gone from being a hedge witch, suffering huge personal losses and surviving, to ascension and becoming a goddess.

                Losing Q will be a huge blow for her, the last surviving person that she knew from her old life and perhaps the man she would have eventually married. With her magical abilities now returned, she faces an uncertain future.

                Like Elliot, the best place for Julia to be is going to be Brakebills as a teacher of some sort. Possibly even becoming the dean and taking Fogg’s place at the school. That mentorship day in Season one strikes me as a good landing spot for her.

   Alice Quinn

                 Hyper-smart , studious with serious attention to detail. Pretty, but very insecure and fashion negative. With librarian looks and a body that’s a teenager’s wet dream, Alice tends to use clothing that either lets her ugly up and be invisible or clothing that draws attention to her natural charms while forgetting that this lady has you looking where she wants you to look.

                For her magic has been real, and not just a tool that compliments the rest of a person’s abilities. If Magic does not present a solution, she attempts to find another way to solve a problem magically. Her worldview has been shaped by absentee parenting, a brother whose death led her on a quest to find him, only to find Q instead.

                A loner with no use for team work, she has trouble integrating with other team members on a long-term basis, and as such she has had the most trouble finding a spot on the team and keeping it. Her collaboration with the library in the past season, and the casualties suffered by the hedges does not bode well for her, when it comes time to count the cost after the dead have been mourned.

                For Season five, I expect her to go to pieces and crash and burn. Q was her rock in the same way that Charlie was. Magic will be her first go to, for returning Q to the mortal world. Short of being able to do that, she is going to have to make her way in the library as the only path open to her. Fun thought for bonus points, I expect her to form an unlikely pairing with Elliot

     Penny

                 Penny has the least amount of thought allocated to one of the prime characters. Switched out from Penny40 to Penny23, he seems to be really kept around when you need a magical uber. Both variations on the character have strong loyalty vibes to those that deserve them, and has a strong moral compass.

                Ever the outsider, he finally finds a home and friends when teamed up with the crew and I expect that will continue in Season five. If anything, I expect that he will suffer from severe sympathy fatigue and team up in some capacity with the library, or hopefully Kady’s hypothetical magical police.

 Again, I should mention that I should say a few words about him, just I am drawing a blank as to where he goes from here.

  Josh Hoberman

                 Josh is one of the older members of the team, a class ahead of Margo and Elliot and a contemporary of Poppy. Seemingly nice guy whose magical talent should be hospitality magic, if that’s even a thing, what his actual discipline is, I confess I never paid attention. It might be plant magic cause he seemed to have gotten the good drugs.

                Called up from the bench a couple of years ago, he has been an advisor to the Fillory side of the crew and gotten steady promotions up till now. Due to an ill-advised Dalliance back in the day, Josh has a little problem with full moons. Leading to a surprising short-term solution and a steady squeeze that’s going to be complicated in season five.

                But wait, there is potentially more. In the process of saving Elliot from the monster, Josh traveled back to Fillory to coordinate with the Fillorian magicians, and at some point, after Fillory was subject to a hostile take over from some individual. Leaving Margo and Elliot to arrive in Fillory 300 years in the future to find that Josh and Fen are missing.

 The Fuck

                Season five, I am going to use the books to align Josh’s future. Assuming Mayakovski is the invader, kicking Josh and Fen back to Earth seems reasonable and I am predicting Josh takes up residence in an Italian Palazzo with Fen. With no real idea how they got three hundred years into the future, Josh may have concluded that the dynamic duo have shuffled off their mortal coils and has at some point made sexy time with Fen, expect the fun to begin when Margo sends a what the fuck Bunny to express her dissatisfaction on Josh being AWOL.

      What should come next.

  This is the reason we need new blood, at best the current cast is only good for one more season before monster of the season starts to get boring, if the show is not canceled by then anyways. I had this thought in my head when I was watching mean girls. At the end of the movie, there is this brief shot of a couple of girls walking in the distance, clearly, they are the next generation mean girls.

 Anchor the show around Brakebills, it has played a bit part in each successive season but should be the main part of the next generation. Wrap up lose ends for half of season five and then start introducing the new Elliot, Julia, Kady etc. Start up the mentoring, teaching positions with new and arrogant magicians that are gonna conquer the world, as the past crew explain why the class lost half of their people when magic went away.

[multimetaverse]

Andi Mack 2x20 Review

Andi’s Choice was a sweet fluffy episode, a nice contrast to all the angst we’ve had in 2b. I’m gonna divide my reviews from now on into positives and negatives. And don’t worry I’ll be talking a lot about Cyrus and his lack of jealousy and what it means for his story in the negatives section.

Positives

Being around you is a great song! Asher has a lovely voice and it would be great if Disney released a full version. I’m glad that they had Bowie write most of it as it would have been unbelievable that Jonah wrote it all himself in the show’s fake 10 day timeline or it’s actual 3ish weeks timeline.

But you can tell that the core message, “I love being around you’’ came from Jonah and it was a nice little callback to what Jonah told Andi at the Space Otters dinner. 

It was great seeing Jonah facing down his anxiety and winning. 2b has been full of angst and setbacks and defeats. Yes we need to see characters struggle and grow and learn but it can’t be constant defeats we need to see them win too. We’ve really seen the toll his untreated anxiety has taken on his life which makes his victory tonight all the sweeter and it lets kids know that they don’t have to be ruled by their anxiety.

I think tonight has been the most likeable Jonah has been in a long time. We get flashes of that old Bill Clinton charm of his but also his natural sweetness and we got some callbacks to his obliviousness. I laughed so much when he thought that Bowie wanted him to look at Bex.

I know that most people on here hate Jandi but it’s just your typical middle school relationship, nothing to get so worked up over (and if you want to hate on it just use an anti-jandi tag). They’ve had some sweet moments and will probably have a few more before Terri pulls the rug out from under the core audience of 6-14 year olds who love this ship and keep this show afloat. I do enjoy seeing the lengths Disney is going to plug the ship (#jandiforever). And I’m sure the Team Jonah kids on the Mack Chat will be popping bottles tonight. In fact I’ll bet that this episode has the highest ratings of 2b so far.

Obviously the ship has its faults and Terri has spoken negatively of it in the past but the casual audience (which is the vast majority of the audience) doesn’t know that and all they see is the show continually pushing Andi and Jonah together so why would they hate it?

As for the seating it wasn’t so that we could see Cyrus’ reactions (we didn’t) it was because Buffy is a bit taller than Cyrus and her longer and curlier hair would obstruct our view (and Jonah’s) of Andi more than Cyrus would. 

I will give the show credit for keeping the lyrics gender neutral (though it was the very least they could do). However, they did make it clear that the song and Jonah’s feelings are only directed at Andi.

And as for the kiss I thought it was exactly like an unexpected first kiss at 14 would be like. I don’t read too much into Jonah’s eyes being open I think it just happened so quickly and took him by surprise that he didn’t know what to do. i know some people are comparing it to the first Ciris kiss but what people forget is that their first kiss went well and Cyrus was actually very happy afterwards (too happy for a soon to realize he’s gay boy in truth). Both Jonah and Andi were happy afterwards and it was nice to see them smiling. 

I also give the show credit for keeping Andi at the centre of this love triangle and keeping all the power in her hands (putting Lucas at the centre of the triangle was GMW’s fatal flaw). I also think it was good to show younger women that it’s okay for them to take charge and make the first move. And kudos for the show having Andi explicitly say that being in a triangle is no fun; obviously the show is selling a fantasy but it’s important to let reality peek in.

I’ll have more to say about Bowie’s behaviour in the negatives but I do think the show was trying to draw a parallel to Bex’s scenes with Amber. Just as Bex’s advice (get a makeover) was immature so was Bowie’s advice (write her a song). It reminds the audience that these are two teen parents we are dealing with and they are still stuck in their teenage mindsets in some ways. I think a big part of their arcs in S3 will be doing that growing up.

Celia’s behaviour doesn’t make much sense but it’s all part of the show moving her from ‘’stern and responsible parental figure’’ to ‘’wacky grandma’’. The show needs Celia to let loose a bit so Bex looks more mature and responsible in contrast. Buying the fringe when Bex has no experience running a small business wasn’t a well thought out move but again it’s necessary because the show wants to establish Bex and Bowie as responsible parents who can financially support themselves and Andi once they’re engaged. 

It was nice to see Britney again, hopefully Bex doesn’t lay her off.

I do like that Cyrus used his director’s skills when joking around with Andi and Buffy.

Lol I was completely wrong about the High School Musical lady being Amber’s mom. 

Walker is nice and I think he’s taking his cues from rom-coms (where else would a 14 year old get romantic advice) which explains these sweet but unexpected gestures. I’m glad that he made such a good impression on Buffy and Cyrus, I’m sure he’ll fit right in with the GHC in S3.

Cyrus’ mom writing a friendship application letter on his behalf was hilarious and also explains so much of why Cyrus is the way he is.

Negatives

For the casual audience a crush that cannot be shown or discussed is for all intents and purposes a crush that does not exist. When Cyrus comes out to Jonah and Jonah gently turns him down the only thing that will surprise most viewers is that Cyrus still has a crush on Jonah. 

Jealousy is such a common trope to establish or reinforce that a person has romantic feelings for another person because it is unmistakable and everyone has experienced some form of jealousy. It’s especially easy for for children to grasp which is why it’s a staple of kid’s shows. For example, in GMW we saw Lucas get jealous multiple times when Riley was with Charlie or Evan and this told the audience that he still had feelings for her and wanted to be with her. It was the show’s way of telling the audience that we should pay attention to Lucas’ feelings and that they mattered. 

When the show doesn’t let Cyrus ever show jealously it tells the audience that Cyrus’ feelings don’t matter and that there’s nothing there. Most viewers take their cues from the show and when the show does’t let Cyrus be jealous or even have very many scenes with Jonah it’s guiding them away from shipping J*rus. If you showed this ep to someone who had never seen Andi Mack and afterwards told them that Cyrus had a crush on Jonah they wouldn’t believe you. Whether they’re 6 or 60 the first thing they’d ask you is why didn’t Cyrus show any jealousy.

The key point this episode drove home imo is that if the show can’t ever discuss or show Cyrus’ crush except when he’s coming out to someone then there’s no way the show could ever discuss or show Cyrus dating Jonah. And can you even imagine how Jonah would even realize he’s bisexual and how the show would even be able to discuss that. The show is barely even pretending that Cyrus has a shot with Jonah and that’s because the writers have long known that it’s not going to happen. 

I re-watched 2x01 so it was fresh in my mind for watching 2x20 and the contrast in how Cyrus’ jealousy and Buffy’s support for him is portrayed is stunning. What’s worse is that Cyrus’ jealousy is all in what was originally 1x13. It’s very clear that Disney only let Terri have Cyrus hang out with Jonah so much in in S1 and to show such overt jealousy because it was necessary to set up his sexuality arc. And Buffy was so supportive and careful of Cyrus’ feelings in 2x01 and that’s nowhere to be seen in this ep. 

If A Good Hair Day had aired as 2x04 as originally planned we would have seen Cyrus’ gay arc mostly wrapped up in 5 eps before being completely dropped until 2x11. That was probably part of Disney’s deal, Terri could have her coming out story but it could only be focused on for a few eps. And I think they’re taking the opposite approach in S3. The first eps will focus on the het ships and story lines before TJ returns in ep 4 or 5 to kick off Cyrus’ romance arc. Again that was probably part of the deal, Terri could give Cyrus a boyfriend eventually but only after all the het ships were put front and centre. 

And boy was it ballsy of the show to have Cyrus call himself the sassy (gay) friend. It helps draw attention to how unfilled out Cyrus is and how he could have been easily cut this ep and nothing at all what have changed.

As for Bowie this episode while I understand that the show is trying to emphasize his immaturity it is super weird that he’s helping Jonah win back his daughter and mostly writes the lyrics to a romantic song about his daughter that also clearly applies to his relationship with Bex. 

But I now understand why there have been so many Bexie and Jandi parallels lately. Bowie and Bex are re-living their relationship through Andi and Jonah because they both feel that it’s too late for them. I do feel more confident now in saying that Jonah and Andi will not get back together after they break up for good this season.

Terri has talked a bit about how important momentum is for the show which is why I’m again left wondering why the writer’s thought it would be a good idea for the show to destroy it’s momentum by imposing a 10 day deadline that has been impossible to keep. It takes basic reasoning skills to see that they had way too much story to cram into 6 episodes to justify such a short deadline. And we can tell by the number of weekends that it has actually been almost 3 weeks in show time not 10 days.

They’re going to have to change Jonah’s middle name from Hercules to Wolfgang because he’s clearly a Mozart level prodigy if he picks up guitar in a week.

Once again no word on Buffy’s crush but I’ll admit that Jonah is being Andi’s first kiss is a strike against my Juffy theory (and is also a strike against J*rus happening). 

And while I appreciate that Jandi needs to happen one more time to deal with all those feelings I still think it’s a bad idea to give them such a sweet moment only to undercut it in 5 eps and have Andi end up with Walker anyways. 

And this is a very minor quibble but why has Buffy known Cyrus since the 2nd grade but Andi’s ‘pet’ hasn’t been fed in 7 years which would be around Kindergarten which is also what I remember being mentioned in 2x15 as the start of their friendship?

[floralkittygambler]

Return of The Thing

Sort of. By thing, I mean me. But I love this movie and the meme. Ok, context for this post: - Where I’ve been - Why I left - Whats hip happening -  Where I’ve Been:

Long story short, I’ve had real life matters to deal with. Firstly, my entire household contracted COVID. Well, *almost*. We’ve been through constant testing, quarantine zones, and had the ambulance up numerous times. My parents and 2nd oldest sister were hit the hardest. My 3rd oldest sister was positive and asymptomatic. Now something none of us could predict that I would be completely COVID free despite my compromises. Despite that I was in close contact with them all, including the 2nd oldest who contracted it first and accidentally being coughed on a few times lol. I went through the exact same testing and yet nothing. No symptoms. No presence of COVID. And I took no precaution to isolate from my family as I presumed in our small house we’d all get it, so I was more preoccupied with caring for the sick. Ultimately, I’ve either gotten off scott free this time or there’s a chance I may actually either be highly resistant or even immune. Even then, I WILL be having the vaccine as and when my family are eligible. And we all still follow regulations set.  I’ve also had other real life obligations, much of it either mundane fixing up my living circumstances to more personal matters. Overall, I have been extremely preoccupied.

A mini update, the stray cat Big has been in our porch a lot more in recent times due to the snow as well as being even more affectionate. And Queefster passed away after a good life and a full tummy. Why I Left:

Aside from COVID, business, and my own health declining, I’ll be blunt. I left because of how disgustingly toxic most fandoms are nowadays, but Hazbin is one of the WORST for it. That includes harassment, death threats, mocking MI and triggering an ED. In fact, I’ve even seen others get rape and death threats. So yes, even if YOU are a decent fan, collectively most of you arent doing any favours. Even some critical blogs seem to be overtly catty in ways no one else seems to pick up on under this ‘look how blunt I am’ look and it’s just... You dont have to be a prick to have your say, to be honest and to disagree with the trending. That’s a few on and off of tumblr, and no one I follow anyways. 

In regards to my ‘sensitivities’ - two things: 1) Of course trauma is going to hurt, 2) Im fully aware of kids doing and receiving much of this, which hurts MORE. I have my own lil squids and Im worried of them eventually having to deal with this shit. And no, no one SHOULD have to put up with such rude and poor behaviour. Agree to disagree doesnt live in some people’s realities, but by God harassment and bullying seems ok if YOURE doing it or enticing it. That ISNT ok. Even if it seems like nothing to you it could kill another. I certainly will not take your shit. 

On huskerdust I STAND by my words. It’s fucking creepy and there is sexual harassment and obsession. And there are large triggers. I will not go into detail here because Ive done that dance before and I’ll be refining it again. YOU may like it, however it triggers my very real traumas as well as those in my bloodline. Be respectful and keep that shit away from me. And for goodness sake, parents PLEASE dont raise your children to behave as such online. And no, being anon isnt actually fully anonymous. Also to send hate and threats anon is not only traceable but also cowardice. Grow a pair and find a hobby. I avoid my traumas for the most part. I will not allow you to weaponise or diminish my own or others experiences for your fictional based gratification. Likewise, if it becomes canon, I’ll just make an AU where it is not. Simple. You can hate it but Im not your personal circus so go be toxic elsewhere. IF you like HD and follow me, honestly... Youre probably better to unfollow as I am deeply and passionately against it and stolitz, and valvox, and am very vocal on that. Dont mistake my traumas and discomfort as a personal attack - and dont personally attack me over it either. And before anyone claims homophobia, no. This is nothing to do with sexuality. You arent the victim. If you love these pairings with your soul to the point of a ‘stan’, then youre best off unfollowing because I really am too old for extremists and rabid fans more crazed than the infected in REC. Also I never used to hate angel but now... Fans behaviour is abhorrent and hes so over saturated that I honestly really dislike him now. Doesnt mean you have to hate him too, but just bloody respect that angel isnt loved by all, he can be triggering to some as well as toxically enabling [incl. past addicts], a vile homophobic gay stereotype and just overall a lack of knowledge and respect of sex workers as a whole. When you know a lot of the ins and outs and victims, it’s hard to overlook. I respect your triggering ships by avoiding that mess. Respect others.  The problem with Viv - and I will elaborate in the future - is that your audience is often a reflection of your work and it’s message/presentation. And most of the fandom Ive met are awful. Honestly, though lonesome I find more comfort keeping distant from fandoms because yall often extremely toxic and petty. Perhaps others have had better experiences than I however Im drawing a line in the sand. For MY sake. I’m annoyed with virtually anyone I sense great potential in that becomes wasted. Im angry at Viv because she can do so much better but is blocking HERSELF. This is from a creative and business mindset. When someone has potential that gets wasted - especially creatively - it burns me. Im just passionate on artistic fields. It doesnt mean I hate them. I hate the waste of full potential.

I’ll state things here people disagree with but encouraging harassment, hate or just being an overall cunt just aint on- It’s like people charade as being this fair being but its all bullshit. Self improve and sod off, I do NOT have time to parent you online. 

And obviously there are RL duties I must fulfil. Some in which I will need the publics assistance for if you can spare it. Overall, Im just... Fandoms behaviour generally disgusts me. Disappoints me. We SHOULD be better than this. It’s like listening to bloomin incels rant on fuckin chad or some bullshit pill theory instead of looking to improve themselves too. Honestly... I do mostly acknowledge my own flaws and faults and try to improve each day. It just feels fewer folk see that in themselves and do the same. And that’s coming from an old cunt whos far from fuckin perfect. Also, my fuckin laptop broke so I waited a week for a bloke nearby to fix it. What a fuckin lifesaver, he’s the real mvp!

Also Also, one of you did privately apologise and I appreciate that. I certainly hope we agree to disagree and continue to grow as people on our separate ways. Trust me, I dont forget small acts like this. Even the trauma that caused and the aftermath, please dont think I dont appreciate the apology. However you’re also entitled to know that the forgiveness and healing side may take longer for me due to various factors that occurred - much that few are aware of, including yourself especially. I wish you well and safety.

Hip Happenin Now:

Still busy but slowly visiting. I’ll reply and reblog soon, be patient please. Ive still many things to sort which take priority as well as other things. Im trying to get money n shit for a future and whatnot. Health issues are strong in the blood rn and Im spending extended time with both Big and the other pets to keep up harmony, especially now that Big is accepting slowly that our porch is a welcome shelter for him and he’s free to leave and stay whenever. Trust me, overloaded isnt even the word. Im prepping shit early this year and from now on. Also, my God Ive been dealing with more physical issues as well and had to play doctor. May even need medical interference but holy shit I could never see this coming. Still... It’s... An experience- If you could call it that. Staying more active and healthy. Cat’s nearly clawed my eye out in my sleep (to which I can only presume Billy got too close or hyper) but it’s fortunate placement so Im alright. Most of my body is in pain to the point of absolute normality at this rate. And I plan to make space for a better altar. Future of the Blog: 

Errr, it’s my fuckin space so it’s whatever I want really. Ill still have my Viv rants (ie, pros and cons of her work, HH/HB, other shit like that) however I just really dislike most the fandom at this point as well as the poor management and lack of professionalism and attitudes of staff. It’s just draggin me down and making me ill. I also want to showcase more of MY work (from redesigns to projects to some dumb 2am shit), cosplays, fashion, hobbies, spiritual practises - MY. SHIT. I feel like Ive strayed slightly. But I WILL be honest. And damn well will it upset people. And if it does and I’m genuinely ding something wrong/harmful - guide me patiently. Educate me. If it’s like this HD shit where Im not only allowed my opinions but justified on my traumas or mocking my disabilities or features, then just yeet yourself elsewhere. Also some of my gaming shit too. Getting to know folk who interact with my stuff and just... Create my space. For me. Something hopefully others can enjoy. Something that can function as a bit of an art portfolio as well. Critiques and whatnot.  But I will continually not stand for anyone’s shit or poor handling of serious matters. You will not cause me to doubt and invalidate my experiences like you have to others.  For now, Im tottering but slowly returning. For those who I previously and daily interacted with, I will get back to you. And Im sure you’re patient and understanding of my situation - it’s appreciated. But in terms of any fandom, more so if it’s known to be as hostile, I’d rather keep a healthy boundary between us. That’s for newer folk. Perhaps we may bond further and you’re welcome to try, however I do feel far safer not getting involved into other people’s shit any longer. I will put anon back on but any toxic shit will be reported as well as compiled so at least I have a reference on the actual toxic nature of fandoms. Likewise, Im slowly getting there but god theres a lot of fuckin work. So much that not even my closest friend has heard too much from me until recently. I’ll be returning to the grind for now as I have duties, as well as many demanding felines for my attention. Alongside some physical medical concerns which require additional care, I’ll be popping off now.  Im thankful for those who have checked in on me. I will reply shortly. Take care