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mulletpermsicantlookaway · 4 months ago

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The Jockification of Jeremy

This is Part 1 of a sequel to The Cupbearer, Part 2. The characters of Jeremy and Chase are my invention. The characters of James (the originally unnamed narrator of the previous story), Tyler, Steve, Derek, Brittney, and Becky were created by the earlier writers.

We start where the last story left off, seen from Jeremy's point of view.

__________

Dear Diary,

I can’t believe I’m actually going to get to make out with Steve and James! They are so effing hot! Steve’s the cuter one, but they are boyfriends, after all, so it’s a package deal. That’s fine. James is sexy, but he’s scary, too. He’s not tall, and he’s quite a bit shorter than Steve, but he’s big! He almost looks like that linebacker guy Derek’s younger brother, except that Derek is blond, and James’s hair is so dark it’s almost black. They’re not related as far as I know, other than being total jocks. Derek has the reputation of being one mean SOB, and he looks the part. All the freshmen are terrified of him. But the freshmen avoid James, too. From what I hear, he’s stuffed one or two guys into a locker before.

The bottom line is that there’s no way I want to get on James’s bad side. He made it clear this was a one-time thing, and if I bother Steve and him after this, he will seriously mess me up. I believe him. You don’t tell a guy like him No.

It’s funny; despite him looking like a walking stereotype of a dumb jock, rumors have it that the guy’s super smart. If he is, he sure doesn’t come off that way. He doesn’t seem gay, either, but neither does Steve. Our football team has several gay jocks, and unless you see one of them kissing a guy, you can’t tell them apart from the straight jocks. Certainly no one makes fun of any of them for being gay. And, to their credit, they’ve made life easier for all the gay guys at school. The gay jocks may not like nerds or geeks much, but they will intervene if they see any gay kid being harassed for being gay. That’s really cut down on the homophobia, because you’re taking your life in your hands making an anti-gay remark if one of the gay jocks overhears it.

Steve isn’t as intimidating as his boyfriend. He’s very cute, especially for a football jock. He’s tall, and plenty built, too, but he doesn’t have the sheer size his boyfriend has. James’s thighs look big enough to crush a bowling ball. I can’t imagine him wearing jeans; it must be hard for him to find clothes that fit. In fact, I don’t remember seeing him wear anything but athletic shorts, even this time of year, but a lot of the jocks wear shorts all the time. James and Steve seem to find shorts that are a lot shorter and more form-fitting than what most of the other jocks wear. Maybe that’s how you can tell gay jocks: they’re not afraid to show off how built they are.

Dear Diary,

Tonight’s the night! I’m going to meet them at Steve’s house for a “study” session after dinner. Hopefully they forget to shower after practice. I hear that they and several of the guys on the football team have monster cocks, and from the look of the bulges in their shorts, I don’t think I’ll be disappointed.

I feel a little bad that I’m hiding all this from Chase. He’s been my best friend since grade school, and we share practically everything, but he doesn’t like jocks. At all. And he sure doesn’t get why I find them hot, so I don’t want to get him started.

Dear Diary,

I have a lot to tell you. First off, Steve’s got a nice, big room, and his house is huge. Clearly his parents have a lot of money. Other than being big, his room is pretty much what you’d expect of a jock: athletic gear and clothes lying around, and more than a whiff of locker room smell. One thing’s odd, though; he’s got a large, fancy, and expensive-looking chess set in his room. Hardly the kind of thing you’d expect from a football player. I heard somewhere he used to be on the chess team, although that’s hard to believe. Second, you really have no clue how big guys like that are until you see them out of their clothes. Steve’s gorgeous like an athletic model, but I about fainted at the sight of his cock. I knew he had a big package, but that thing’s obscene! And James’s is just as big, if not bigger. Now James is one hairy dude: chest, legs, arms, everywhere. He’s even got 6-pack abs you can hardly see for all the hair. Steve’s got hardly any chest hair, just a few hairs around his nipples, but he’s got a lot of leg hair and a nice treasure trail leading up to his belly button.

It was a hot time, but kind of overwhelming. I actually felt a little queasy afterward. Maybe one of them had a cold, because my voice is kind of scratchy and hoarse now, and I feel “off”, as if I’m coming down with something. Well, whatever happens, it was absolutely worth it! I even got a little souvenir! I’m not sure whose jockstrap it is, I’m guessing Steve’s, just because it was his room. It’s huge and stretched out, but that tells me nothing: either one of their packages could have done that. I know some people think some of the football players must be on steroids to be so big, but it can’t be that. Even I know that steroids shrink your balls, and there’s nothing shrunken about their balls.

Dear Diary,

When I went to bed last night, I slept with the jockstrap as a reminder of what a good time I had. I think I’ll wear it to school. Under my clothes, no one will know I’ve got it on. Not even Chase.

Dear Diary,

Wearing the jockstrap to school was interesting. It’s obviously way too big for me, so I wore it under a pair of my briefs so that it’d stick close to my balls. It must be my imagination, but it felt kind of warm and tingly down there when I had it on. Another weird thing is how that jock smell seems to get stuck in your nose. I even imagine I smell it on myself even when I’m not wearing the jockstrap. I still feel a bit “off”. I’m not as hoarse now, but I seem to have a lot of phlegm, and I’m having trouble clearing it out. My nose isn’t stuffed up, but my voice kind of rumbles as if I’ve got a cold.

Dear Diary,

I’ve worn that jockstrap to school all week, and now it’s getting kind of gamey. But it’s recovered amazingly from being stretched out by jock football player monster cocks; it’s not loose at all now. In fact, I think I could wear it by itself without the briefs to hold it in place. To avoid chafing while wearing the extra material, I found I had to start walking with a bit of a rolling swagger. It just feels more natural. I can’t believe I used to just mince around. This feels so much more, I don’t know, confident, I guess.

Dear Diary,

My balls and cock started to feel itchy all the time, and I was scratching a lot, so I decided I’d better give up and wash that jockstrap out. I’ll have to do it myself. I don’t want to put it in the laundry and have my mom ask me what I’m doing with it.

Dear Diary,

I finally washed the jockstrap out in the sink and then let it dry in my room overnight. I think that got all the smell out, but since I kind of have that smell in my brain all the time now, it’s hard to tell for sure. Anyway, washing it seems to have shrunk it a lot. I wouldn’t call it tight, but my junk fills it just fine, and I certainly don’t need briefs to hold it on. That’s a good thing, because my briefs all suddenly got tight and uncomfortable, and now I’m sticking to boxers. My throat isn’t scratchy anymore, and the phlegm finally cleared up, but my voice hasn’t gotten back to normal. I don’t sound sick or anything, but everything comes out in this low rumble that doesn’t sound like me. A few people have made comments about it, including Chase, who asked me why I sounded so douchey. Maybe my voice hadn’t quite finished changing? I’d been hoping to audition for the winter musical, but unless my voice recovers, I don’t see how I’d be able to sing any of the leads.

Dear Diary,

Mom must have messed up something in the laundry, because all the sudden my clothes are all tight, and my pants have shrunk and they’re riding highwater. Even my shoes are tight; she must have tried to wash them, too.

Dear Diary,

As much as I hate to give it up, I think I’d better stop wearing that jockstrap. Chase came over to work on our joint class project, and the first thing he said was that my bedroom smelled like a locker room. I guess I just don’t smell it anymore. I’m itchy down there again, so it’s probably time to wash out that jock anyway. Then I guess I’d better put it away. Too bad. It’s been fun while it lasted.

Dear Diary,

I had the weirdest dream last night. I was in the locker room suiting up for a football game with Chase, Derek, James, Steve, and Tyler. I’ve never even talked to Tyler. He’s one of the other jocks on the football team. I think he’s friends with James, not that it matters; all the jocks seem to hang out together in one big herd. Anyway, that dream kind of freaked me out. First, what’s Chase doing playing football? It didn’t even really look like him; it was like a jock version of Chase, which was kind of hot. Second, why would I dream about Tyler when I hardly know who he is? Third, I’ve never played football in my life. Football season’s about over, anyway, but our team’s in the playoffs this year for the first time in forever, apparently. Everyone’s saying what got them there was all the new players we got this year, like Tyler, James, Steve, Zach, and some others. With that much talent and size, we’re creaming the other schools.

Dear Diary,

What the fuck is going on with the laundry? Just when I think Mom is done shrinking my clothes, she does it again. It’s getting to be pathetic. I mean, people are looking at me funny, even Steve and James. That Tyler guy, the one from my weird dream (and he is one husky dude; he’s nearly as big as Derek), he looked at me sideways in the hall and said something like, “You been working out, little bro? You ever think about trying out? Football’s about over, but basketball and wrestling are starting, and I think they’re both short a few guys. I don’t think I’ve noticed you before, but you’re getting some height on you, and some muscle, too.” I mean, he’s talking to me as if he thinks I’m a jock. I don’t get it. Just because my pants are shrinking doesn’t mean I’m getting taller. And I certainly haven’t been working out.

Dear Diary,

Steve and James were looking at me weird again today. I don’t know what those dudes are staring at me for. I haven’t said word one to them since we made out. As I said before, bros, I don’t want a mean-looking motherfucker like James to beat me up because he thinks I’m trying to hit on his boyfriend. Not that I haven’t been horny as hell lately. I keep zoning out in class thinking about naked football players or basketball players or wrestlers or whatever, and by the time I snap out of it, half the school day’s gone by, and I hardly remember any of it. I think about Chase, too. Sometimes I imagine Chase as a naked football player or wrestler, and then I really get horny. By the way, I had to start wearing that jockstrap again. I bought myself another one, too. It was just too uncomfortable to go without wearing one. I think I wore that first fucking strap too long and got used to the feeling. If I’m not wearing one now, my balls feel all heavy and shit, and my dick flops all over the place when I walk, and I feel as if I’m lumbering around with this huge weight in my pants. I guess I just need the support, especially since none of my briefs fit anymore.

Dear Dudery, Dear Di – Let’s just drop this dweeb diary shit and I’ll just write what happens, okay?

Things keep getting weirder. Today James came up to me in the hall and said, “Little bro, I think you and I need to have a little bro talk. Let’s take a walk.”

James strolled until we’d reached a hallway hardly anyone was in, and then he turned toward me with his eyebrows slightly raised, as if he’d asked me a question and was waiting for the answer. I said, “What’s up, dude? I’ve left you and Steve alone, so what’s your effing beef?”

James said, “You have, and that was smart. Trust me, you do not want to be on my bad side. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about, not exactly, anyway.”

Then I said, “So? What’d you want to talk about?”

“You, little bro. I wanted to talk about you – and your future. Think of me as kind of like a guidance counselor,” he said with a chuckle and a one-eyebrow-raised smirk on his face. “Seriously, though, are you feeling okay, little bro? You notice anything different about yourself lately?”

“No, I feel fine,” I said, puzzled. “Well, I’ve been kind of itchy, but my clothes are too tight. My mom’s been doing something with the laundry. She keeps shrinking everything.”

His smirk widened into one of those shit-eating grins that all the jocks seem to do when they think something’s funny that you don’t. He said, “Look, little bro, don’t go blaming your poor mom. A mom’s a gay bro’s best friend anyway, but that’s another story. Let’s get back to what’s been going on with you, little bro, because Steve and I – and Tyler, and some others – have seen this kind of thing happen before. Your clothes haven’t changed, little bro, not at all. You have. Are you really that clueless? Have you given yourself a good look in a mirror lately?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, James?”

“Yeah, there it is. That’s what I was waiting for. Starting to lose it, aren’t you? You really don’t want to push it with me, little bro, but I’m going to be – magnanimous – and let that pass. As I was saying, I’ve seen this kind of thing before. You’re feeling super aggressive right now, and super horny, and that’s why you’re lashing out. Otherwise, you’d know better than to try to get me mad. Let’s get back to the point. Have you seriously not noticed that you’re at least three inches taller than you were a couple of weeks ago? You’re taller than I am now. And you’ve gotten bigger. It’s not a lot, but I can see it. You’re scratching yourself a ton when you think no one’s looking, so I’m guessing you’re sprouting some new hair. Your voice is lower, and – how do I put this – you don’t exactly talk like a theater queen anymore. You’ve also been looking kind of distracted, as if something’s on your mind. And I can guess what it is, because those tight pants of yours leave nothing to the imagination.

“Anyway, little bro, even if you haven’t noticed that you’ve been changing, other people have.” Then he leaned in so closely that I could feel his hot breath on my face. He whispered, “And – assuming you remember our recent get-together – Steve and I know very well that your package wasn’t nearly that big when we saw it, okay? We’re guessing that jockstrap you filched from us fits you pretty well by now, right? So go take a good hard look at yourself in the mirror and then tell me what you really see, because right now, you’re either really dumb or you’re in complete denial. Or maybe both.”

I couldn’t say a word. I couldn’t think. Suddenly I was so filled with rage I couldn’t see straight. I wanted to lash out; I needed to hit him or hit something, but James said, “Calm down, little bro. I know you really want to go there, but don’t, okay. You may be taller, but I’m a lot bigger and stronger than you are, and I really don’t want to hurt you. That aggression you’re feeling right now will get more manageable in time, trust me.”

My brain was spinning a thousand directions at once, trying to make some sense of what James was telling me, but all I could think to say was “Why do you keep calling me ‘Little bro’?”

“Because you’re almost a bro, but not quite.” Then he smirked at me again and added, “Oh, before I forget, expect a talk from the basketball coach about trying out for the team. Maybe the wrestling coach, too, but I know for a fact that my bro Derek talked to the basketball coach about you.”

“Why the fuck would I join the basketball team, bro? I don’t know how to play basketball.”

“Because, bro,” he said pointedly, with an even bigger smirk, “Jocks belong to a team. Before I joined the football team, I didn’t know how to play football, either, so not knowing how is fucking beside the point. You’re here in school to learn, right? So you’ll learn – the way I did. Resistance, little bro, is futile. You know,” he said, with a strange look on his face, “You were kind of a cute little dude. It’s almost a pity. But there are – compensations – to being a jock, as you’re about to find out, and there are worse things than turning into the kind of guy you’re attracted to. I’m sure you’ll end up pretty hot, but your days of being a cute little geeky dude are over.”

I couldn’t understand what he was trying to tell me, but oddly, my spinning brain again latched onto only one thing in what he had said, and I sputtered: “Wait, Derek? That mean-looking linebacker dude with a neck wider than his head? He doesn’t even know me. Why would he talk to the basketball coach about me? What’s going on?”

James barked out a laugh, “I’ll have to tell Derek that one. You’ll make his day. But little bro, back to the point, seriously, are you that dense? I told you: you may not have noticed how much you’ve changed, but other people have. Important people. Take it from your guidance counselor, little bro. Later!” And with that, he swaggered off.

“What the? How? Wait, you think I’m turning into a jock or something? I’m not dumb. You must be crazy! Wait!” But he was gone.

I felt kind of nauseous, so I decided to go into the men’s room and take a good hard look at myself, as he’d suggested.

I was determined to be completely honest with myself. The first thing I noticed looking in the mirror is that my clothes looked geeky and awful. No wonder people were looking at me funny. My pants were ridiculously tight and riding a good three inches above my ankles. I looked stuffed into my shirt, too. At least the shirt didn’t ride up like my pants, but what was I thinking dressing like this? None of it came close to fitting. I looked like some dumb jock dressed up as a nerd for Halloween. Wait. Did I really look like a jock?

I looked at myself again and reminded myself to be honest. James was right: I was taller than I remembered. And I had a little muscle in my arms and chest that I didn’t remember, either. But the real shock was my face. How could I have changed that much without noticing? I hardly recognized myself. My brows were heavier, my jaw was firmer, my lips were a bit fuller, and I had a lot of scruffy hair growing on my face. How often did I shave now? Clearly, it was no longer enough. As I stared at my strange face in the mirror, my slightly pouty lips were hanging agape, giving me a distinctly dopey look. Is this really how I looked to other people? I scratched at the fuzz on my cheeks and suddenly felt restless. I needed to go do something, you know, run, jump, hit something, or whatever. I couldn’t just stand still. I left the men’s room and ran down the hall. I was way late for my next class, and no one was in the halls. Still running without realizing where I was going, I found myself down by the locker rooms where the coaches’ offices were.

I stopped then and stood for a minute at a loss, wondering what I was thinking, just coming down there when I should be in class. I was about to head back upstairs when a tall well-built man in athletic clothing started approaching from the other end of the hallway. He was in his middle thirties, or maybe early forties, and very handsome, even though he was old enough to be my dad. When he got close, he said, “Well, this is a surprise! Jeremy, isn’t it? I’m Coach Sanders. I was going to try to catch you later today, but since you’re here, come into my office!”

I followed him without saying a word, as if I’d been struck dumb. Once in his office, the coach had me sit down in a chair facing his desk. “So, Jeremy,” he started. “I don’t think we’ve ever met. I’m the basketball coach, and I like to talk personally with any young man who shows the kind of potential you’re showing right now. I don’t know if you remember our former football coach?” I shook my head, my mouth hanging open like an idiot. “Well, our new coach has a fine program, and the football teams are doing an amazing job finishing up their season. But he’s reaping the benefit of the special training and conditioning regimens the old coach had developed for bringing young men like you to their true potential as athletes.”

I nodded dully as if I understood what he was talking about, but then I said, “Young men like me?” What did he mean by that?

“Yes,” said the coach. “Young men like you that don’t have an athletic background. He did some incredible work with guys like you. For example, I think you know Steve O’Connor? And his boyfriend, James? And James’s friend Tyler. They were all part of his program. And there were others as well.”

“Oh,” I said, “I had no idea those guys hadn’t come from an athletic background, as you put it, Coach. They all seemed like total jocks to me.”

“I’m sure they did, Jeremy, and that’s exactly my point. His work was truly amazing. Just think of it: some of our biggest football stars had never played football before, and now they’re such ‘total jocks’, as you put it, that you had no idea that they hadn’t always been jocks. Steve O’Connor, for example, used to be on the chess team.”

“Excuse me, Coach, but I’m not sure I understand why you’re telling me all this.”

“Because, Jeremy, I wanted to let you know that you have the potential to excel just as much as those young men have. You see, I am very familiar with the old coach’s methods. I assisted him frequently, and I still have a lot of his program materials. Given where you are now, I feel I have the means to help you reach your potential.”

“That sounds really interesting, Coach,” I said, “But I should get back to class. As it is, I’ve already missed half the period.”

“Don’t worry about that, Jeremy. I can excuse you from class. As you said, you’ve missed half the period already, and by the time you get back you might as well have not gone at all. But if you’re willing to give me just a few more minutes of your time, I can show you a bit of what I have in mind for a conditioning program for you. Follow me!”

We left his office and entered the men’s locker room, passing through it into a smaller room with an old couch, a television, and a couple of chairs.

“Now, sit down and make yourself comfortable for a minute, Jeremy,” he said, indicating the couch. “But those clothes of yours, son, they don’t come close to fitting you. You’re way too big for them, and I want you to be comfortable. I’ve got a spare basketball uniform you can wear. I’ll be right back.”

Reddening with embarrassment, I stripped down to the jockstrap, and I put on the basketball shorts and tank top the coach brought me. Both were a bit big on me, but it was a relief after being cramped in such tight clothes.

Once I’d finished changing, he came back in the room and said, “Okay, Jeremy, now that you can relax, there’s a little video I want you to watch. Just sit here, watch the video, and I’ll come back to get you when it’s over.” He queued up the video on the TV, gave me a pair of headphones for the audio, told me to lean back in the couch and relax, then he dimmed the lights and left the room.

I really didn’t expect much from the video, but it was amazing. I remember how exciting it was, and just thinking about it now reminds of how proud it made me feel to be a jock. It’s funny, though, because now I really can’t describe what it was about, something about commitment, drive, and sports, I think. It didn’t seem very long; at least, I don’t remember watching it for very long. But I must have fallen asleep or something, because the next thing I remember was the bell going off. The lights were back on – again – I think, but I was sitting there blinking my eyes and trying to remember where I was. I was in Coach Sanders’s office. The coach was sitting at his desk, and Derek was standing next to him, looking at me curiously.

I said something like, “Oh shit, dude. I mean, Coach, I’m so sorry. I must have zoned out. I’d better get to my next class. I’m so fucking late! Sorry about the language, Coach.” Something about me sounded off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Jeremy, son, snap out of it. That was the final bell. Classes are over. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, Coach, I feel fuh, I feel, uh, effing awesome, actually. All revved up and ready for practice. I didn’t miss practice, did I? Am I forgetting something? You wanted me to watch a video or something?”

“You already watched it, Jeremy.”

“Oh, okay, Coach. Sorry. Yeah, that’s right. I did watch the video. Did I see everything you wanted me to see, then?”

“Yes, you did. You’re doing just fine, Jeremy. You’ll be feeling like yourself again in no time. And don’t worry about your classes. You’re excused for today. But just remember that you need to keep your grades up if you’re going to stay on the team, particularly when you’re doing two sports.”

“Understood, Coach,” I said. “Uh, grades shouldn’t be a problem for me, I think.” At least, they’d never been before. “But, uh, sorry, what two sports was I doing again?”

“Basketball and wrestling, son. Look, I know maybe grades aren’t a problem for you generally, but you know you’re not the brightest kid in school, and you’ll have a lot more, well, distractions in your life right now. Both teams are counting on you. And remember that the weight program and diet I’ve outlined for you are just as important as practice. You have a ton of potential, but to realize that potential, you need to start packing on some serious muscle.”

“Got it, Coach. I know it’ll be a lot of work, but I’m really motivated, and I’m super stoked about your program.”

“Glad to hear it. Well, you’re already suited up for practice, so get out to the gym and start warming up. And remember, we’re hitting the weight room after practice.”

“Sure, Coach. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Okay, get out of here, big guy,” he said, patting me on the shoulder. “Derek will show you the way. I’ll see you at practice.”

I had to say it was super cool of the coach to take all that time with me personally, especially since I wasn’t a very big guy, at least not yet. I caught my reflection in the mirrors as I went back through the locker room. The basketball uniform fit me well. Of course, it was nothing like my wrestling singlet, which was skin tight and hid absolutely nothing, especially my bulging package. The basketball shorts were loose and hit a bit above my knees. My long, hairy legs were skinnier than I liked, and my upper body was the same, but I could see the beginnings of some pec muscles under the tank top, and deltoids, biceps, and triceps starting to form on my shoulders and arms. I looked rangy, not built, but I’d be packing on muscle soon with Coach’s program. I hadn’t realized how bushy my armpits had gotten, and there were a few fine chest hairs showing above the neck of the tank top. I’m glad I finally got a haircut, though. I look really cool with the high fade. It’s way more practical, especially for wrestling. Most of the other bros keep their hair short, too, although not all of them keep it as short as Derek does with that blond buzz.

Anyway, basketball practice was great, and the other bros on the team are awesome! Everyone seems super chill, and I just fit right in. There are even some gay jocks on the team like me, and they’re all really hot. Steve O’Connor’s one; it’s nice to see someone I already know. Steve introduced me to Zach Davis, who’s one of the gay jocks, and he’s almost as cute as Steve.

After hitting the weight room, I showered and went back to my locker. I guess I’d left a clean outfit in there, but the clothes didn’t look familiar. I didn’t see any underwear, but there was a pair of compression shorts, so I pulled those on, stuffed my package into them, and then put on a T-shirt. The compression shorts felt soft and silky against my cock and balls, although the bulge was a little obscene. The support was almost as good as a jockstrap. I’ve really hit a growth spurt recently, and everything’s gotten bigger, if you know what I mean. The bulge wasn’t so obvious once I put a pair of regular athletic shorts on over the compression shorts. That reminds me; I need to tell Mom and Dad that I need some more jockstraps. My balls have gotten so big and heavy that I really need that extra support, especially for basketball.

When I finally got my phone out of my locker and looked at it, I had a bunch of messages from Chase wondering where I was. I don’t know what his problem was; it should have been obvious: I was at practice. It’s not as if I’d been gone all day. Sometimes I wonder why I’m friends with a geek like him anyway. But he is awfully cute for a little dude, and I’m pretty sure he’s into me. Maybe if I went out with him, I could talk him into going out for wrestling. He could certainly stand to pack on some muscle. Anyway, I had other plans for the night. Derek invited me over to his place to watch the game with some of the other bros. His girlfriend Becky was going to be there, and Tyler and his girlfriend Brittney, plus Steve and James. I guess James and Tyler have been best friends forever, and Becky was friends with Steve and James, who had fixed her up with Derek. It’s so cool that the straight bros and gay bros get along so well. Zach was supposed to be there, too. Maybe I’d get to know him a little better.

Anyway, I texted back Chase: “Chill out, bro. Was at bball practice. C U tomorrow @ school. Got plans 2nite.”

Chase sent: “Plans? U OK? Someone got ur phone? Since when u play basketball?”

“Going to Derek’s to watch the game. Tell u bout it 2morrow. Later!” Anyway, I had a great time hanging out with the bros and watching the game. Zach seemed nice, but I wasn’t really into him, and I don’t think he was into me, either. I kept thinking about Chase. He kept blowing up my phone, but I ignored it. I was trying to decide what to do, but it was hard to think; I was so tired after practice and working out. I finally went home and collapsed on the bed. I barely managed to get my clothes off before I fell asleep, and then I dreamt about hot, hairy bros, but all the bros had Chase’s cute little geek face. It made me think how hot Chase would be if he were a jock, too. That woke me up, and then I realized my cock and balls needed some serious attention before I could get back to sleep. When I finally came, my balls must have been really backed up, because I made a huge mess. I had to clean it up the best I could, because I couldn’t exactly get up and change the sheets without waking everyone else up. But I sure felt a lot better. My thoughts calmed way down, and I felt really mellow and chill. I fell right back to sleep.

To be continued...

#jockification #jock tf #nerd to jock #jock transformation #mental change

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ordinaryschmuck · 2 years ago

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Alright, last time ever that I’ll talk about Velma. I promise.

Because I’ve been extra salty towards this show all week, and I don’t want to take it further than that. Talking nothing but bad stuff about this show for the entirety of its run is exactly what the writers want. They want us to hate watch it so we can talk about each new atrocity the show brings up week after week, and call us haters or anti-woke propagandists. When, in reality, they don’t give a FUCK about any of that. They don’t care about other races, genders, or sexualities. They just WANT you to think they do. Know how I can tell? Because I’ve SEEN genuine attempts of representation.

THIS is a genuine attempt of representation. Matt Braly, the series creator of Amphibia and a Thai-American, felt like Thai culture was underrepresented in media. So, he not only made his main character and her Thai, but he also dedicated subplots and entire episodes showcasing the culture he wanted to represent.

THIS is a genuine attempt at representation. Dana Terrace, series creator of The Owl House and open Bisexual, wanted a main character that was explicitly bi to finally help kids feel like they’re seen. To help give the representation SHE always wanted.

But when I look at Velma? None of it hits the same.

This isn’t a genuine attempt for representation. This is Mindy Kuling turning a character into a self-insert to make herself look smarter than everyone else and the most important person in a narrative. Truth is, this Velma is nothing more than a sociopath, narcissistic dipshit who thinks she’s better than everyone else but is actually more aggravating than endearing.

So...Good job representing YOURSELF there, Mindy.

And this?

This isn’t representation. This is a shield.

A way to protect the show from any criticism because it couldn’t possibly be bad. They have gay characters! Gay characters are good in everything!

Except that is the LAST reason you should include gay characters! Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE more LGBTQA+ representation in media. What I don’t love is obvious attempts to pander to audiences just to avoid criticisms. And keep in mind, this is NOT the first attempt a creator wanted to make Velma gay.

James Gunn wanted to make her gay in the live action movie, but WB said no.

Scooby-Doo: Mystery Incorporated (the GOAT of the Scooby-Doo franchise) wanted to make Velma gay, but could only imply it because Cartoon Network didn’t greenlit Steven Universe yet.

THOSE are genuine attempts to make Velma gay, to represent people because the creators of both products agreed that it was the least they could do.

But making Velma and Daphne a thing just to protect a show is nothing more than shallow and inconsiderate of the hard fight dozens of people put up with for the sake of representation.

And, honestly, I’d be a little more forgiving if the writing in Velma was good. But it’s not.

Within the first minute, this show features...

Cockroaches having sex...

And fifteen year olds taking a shower to make a joke about how over-sexualized a series’ pilot can be.

First of all: FUCK YOU FOR MAKING ME FIND THIS SCREEN SHOT FOR A POINT!

Second: You lose every ounce of credibility that you actually care about people when one of the first moves you make in your series is to sexualize minors for the sake of a joke.

A joke that doesn’t make sense at that. Point me to a series pilot that’s over-sexualized. If you get more than ten, I’ll say you have a point. I won’t say that sexualizing minors to make it was a good thing, but I’ll at least say that, “Yeah. You’re right. So many pilots do this. SO STOP DOING IT!”

That’s the level of writing Velma has. And it’s why they have their “representation” to protect themselves. Meanwhile, you want to know the level of writing you’ll find in The Owl House and Amphibia?

Villains who prove that the most dangerous people are the ones who make the rules.

Jokes that are actually funny.

Likable main protagonists who are kind and caring to the people around them.

Protagonists who have heartfelt relationships with other great characters, to the point that it breaks your heart to see them leave each other.

And on top of that, actually good representation. But here’s the thing: The representation isn’t only genuine. It’s a bonus. Something great to add onto everything else the writers and the creators do right.

What it isn’t is an attempt to protect a show from what it does wrong.

And that’s it. That’s the LAST time I’ll ever talk about Velma. I really mean it this time.

Talking about this show past it’s premier is already more attention it deserves. And if you were smart, you would not only stop watching, but stop talking. The best attention to give something you hate is NO attention.

If you really want to waste time, waste it by watching something good, like The Owl House and Amphibia. They may be kids shows, but they have more maturity than a single second of Velma.

#velma series #velma series salt #the owl house #amphibia #luz noceda #anne boonchuy #cw: naked minors #cw: velma

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sarahowritesostucky · 6 months ago

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📖"The Taste of You"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 4552

Tags: Fresh AU, dark rom-com, dark!Bucky, pre-serum Steve, cannibalism, kidnapping, yandere/basement wife, meet cute-ish, gay sex n' stuff, dub-con bordering on non-con, ignoring of sexual boundaries

Summary: Steve is so tired of the meat market that modern dating has become. Just when he's deleted all the apps and given up on ever finding Mr. Right, he meets the perfect guy at the grocery store.

A dark, cute, funny, fucked up, and very tasty love story.

It's a Fresh AU. "If you can't handle the cannibalism, get out of the kitchen" ... or something like that

7. Sous Vide

Wait! I haven't read a previous chapter. Story Masterlist

Steve

For the first twenty-four hours, Steve alternates between crying, screaming, and sometimes even laughing. And his thoughts run a gamut twice as large.

8 hours in: This can’t be happening. Steve is so fucking stupid. He deserves what he gets. He’s not ready to die. He should find a way to kill himself. Maybe he can seduce James into letting him go.

12 hours in: Fuck James! Steve’s going to kill him. He doesn’t know how, but he is totally going to murder the shit out of him! What’s in the room, there must be something that he can use…

16 hours: Why is there NOTHING in this room that is useful?! Fuck, he’s screwed. Why did Steve have to go snooping in the basement? He can’t believe he was actually attracted to a serial killer. He fucked a serial killer. What does that say about him? Clint wouldn’t have fallen for this shit. Fuck. Steve never texted him. Ha—he won’t know where to send the cops to find his body after all.

18 hours: Is he going to go insane? Maybe. Maybe it’ll be better if he does. Which part of him will James try to cut off first? Steve thinks he’d rather keep his arms than his legs. If he had to choose that is. Who was that woman in the other cell? What did she lose first? Why isn’t she answering him when he yells out? Can she not hear him? Maybe she’s just crazy. How long has she been here? How long is Steve going to be here before he dies? Oh god, he doesn’t want to wind up like her!

20 hours: That must’ve been human meat up in the fridge. And Steve asked Bucky to make dinner with it. A rump roast. They would’ve been eating somebody’s ass for dinner.

24 hours: Holy fucking shit, is he ever stupid.

“Can I get you anything?” James asks him the third time he visits.

The first time he’d come, Steve had screamed and thrown hysterics until it drove James away.

The second time, he’d done nothing but cry softly and beg to be let go, as James told him what it is he does for a living.

The third time he just sits there and stares like a zombie. James doesn’t seem to like that. He comes over and feels Steve’s forehead, takes his pulse. Steve gasps and jerks away, huddling himself into the corner. James lets him go with a sad expression. “You need to try and calm down, honey,” he says. “I hate to see you suffering.”

Steve stares at him with wide eyes. “Are you gonna kill me?” he asks. He’s been thinking about it all day and night. He can’t get the image of that woman out of his head. “Are you gonna…” eat me?

James is shaking his head. “No, Steve. I told you: I don’t want to hurt you.”

Steve blinks. He only has fuzzy memories of the last two visits. He knows that James had stayed, especially that second time, knows that he’d sat and talked to Steve. But Steve is having a hard time remembering all the facts. He’d been out of his mind with emotion, not taking it all in. “I don’t remember,” he murmurs, nervous. “I… I don’t remember everything you said.”

James smiles sadly at him. “Okay. That’s understandable.” He goes and sits down on a metal stool that’s connected to the floor. It’s part of a little vanity set that Steve is unable to reach from his chained position by the bed. Steve’s got no clue why it’s there, if he can’t even reach it. He’s spent time wondering if the mirror is glass, and if he could break it and use a shard of it to murder James. “I’ll answer any questions you have,” James is offering amicably, breaking Steve out of his murderous thoughts. “What do you want to know?”

“I don’t want to die,” Steve whispers.

“You’re not going to die,” James tells him, a little exasperation creeping into his voice. “Stevie, you’re not listening: I am not going to kill you. I didn’t bring you here for work.”

Work. Steve rolls the word over in his mind. James is a serial killer. He kills people and eats them. Well, mostly he sells their meat to other people to eat them. But that doesn’t make it any better! Steve tries to read James’ face for a lie. He doesn’t believe him when he says he’s not going to kill Steve. Of course he’s going to kill Steve. He has to, now that Steve knows his secret.

Steve is so fucking stupid.

“Just… just do it fast,” Steve begs. He thinks of the limbless woman several cells down. He doesn’t know if she’s still alive. He hopes not. “Do it all at once, please. Don’t… don’t make me like her.”

James looks pained. “I know you don’t believe me, honey. But in time you’ll see. I really didn’t mean for you to wind up down here.” He smiles softly at him, which is equal parts sweet and disturbing. “I really do care for you Steve. I was looking forward to what we could have together. I still am. We can get past this, and in the end it’ll only have made our relationship stronger.”

Steve stares. James really means it. He actually thinks they’re still going to be boyfriends. Steve remembers that conversation they’d had in the car, how happy he’d been when James had taken his hand and confirmed their relationship status. Steve thinks of all the personal things he’s told James, all the times they’ve made love, laughed with each other; he thinks of how much he’d come to feel for James. Fuck, it’s awful. Steve feels betrayed. His Mr. Right is a cannibal serial killer. It’s not fucking fair. “I’m not ever going to be with you again,” he tells him blankly. He can’t believe he actually has to explain this. “James, you eat people.”

James sighs like that’s small potatoes. “I’m still me. I’m still that guy you met at the grocery store.”

Steve blinks, thinking about their encounter in the meat department, James holding out the package of venison with an expression of disgust and proclaiming himself a vegetarian. The hilarity of it hits Steve all of a sudden, and he starts to giggle.

James is watching him with a look of concern. “Steve?”

Steve shakes his head, the laughter growing and growing, and he keeps laughing until he folds over with it. It turns into a sob. He squeezes his eyes shut, overwhelmed. “Sorry,” he whispers, shaking his head. “Sorry, I just… I’m panicking, a little.”

It’s quiet for a long moment, and then Steve gasps as the mattress dips and James is right there, pulling him into his arms. Steve struggles, pushing against him. “No!”

But James hushes him and hugs him tightly, and Steve can’t get away. “Shh sh sh,” James says. “It’s okay, I know you’re scared, Steve. I know. It’s gonna be okay. You’ll see. It’s all going to be just fine.”

It really isn’t, but Steve doesn’t know what else to do besides cry. James holds him through it and eventually lays him down on the mattress, kissing his tear stained cheek. “Rest,” he murmurs, and he gets up and leaves.

The fourth time James comes into his cell, Steve has formed a loose plan. He’s not going to panic anymore. He’s going to be productive. He’s going to gain James’ trust, make him believe that Steve loves him and won’t run away. Then, when he gets his chance, he’ll kill James and escape. There’s no other option. This is what he has to do.

“Hey,” James says, looking cautious as he swipes the keycard that unlocks the room’s slatted door. He slides it open and steps inside. He’s got another tray of food. “Brought you some lunch.”

Steve watches as he sets the tray onto the floor and gives it a push towards him. His stomach rumbles loudly—he hasn’t eaten since James locked him in here. The first few meals got thrown in fits of rage and desperation, the ones after that simply ignored and refused. But Steve obviously isn’t the first captive to try going on a hunger strike, and James has kept patiently bringing trays for every mealtime. Now Steve has a new game plan, and he pulls the tray over and picks up the silicone spoon (not even plastic utensils. This guy really is careful). He looks over the food and then glances at James. “...This is all… it’s vegetarian, right?” he checks.

James knows what he’s really asking, and he nods. “Yeah. Just chicken noodle,” he says gently.

Steve decides to believe him. He brings a spoonful of the soup to his lips, blows on it, swallows. It’s not bad, and he’s 99.9% sure that those are chunks of chicken floating in the broth.

James takes a seat on the metal stool and watches him eat the meal. “You’re calmer today,” he observes.

Steve shrugs, playing it cool. “Yeah,” he simply says. “I had time to think it over.”

“Yeah?” James sounds hopeful. “Okay. That’s good. Do you need anything?”

He asks that every time he visits Steve. So far Steve has only ever yelled or cried or remained totally silent in response. “Books?” he says this time, meeting James’ eyes. James looks surprised. “I don’t know how long I’ve been down here,” Steve says. “It gets boring.”

James smiles tentatively. “Just a little over a day, now. Yeah, honey. I can bring you books.”

“Okay,” Steve says. He goes on eating the soup. There’s a little hunk of a baguette with it. He tears off a piece and dips it into the broth, pops it into his mouth and chews. “Thank you.”

James leaves shortly after that, and within what feels like a few hours, Steve is supplied with a whole cart full of books. “I didn’t know what you liked,” James says sheepishly as Steve looks over the titles. “Hope this is good enough.”

“It’s great,” Steve says. He actually wasn’t expecting so many, or such a good selection. “Thank you.”

James looks very pleased. He takes a step closer and leans down, reaches out like he’ll touch him. Steve flinches and James’ face falls.

“Sorry,” Steve mutters, cursing himself for the reaction. “I’m sorry James. This is just…” he sighs. “It’s scary, you know?”

James nods. “Bucky,” he says.

“What?”

“Bucky.” He comes close again and kneels down. He takes Steve’s hand in his. It’s the one that’s chained to the floor. “My name.”

“Your name isn’t James?” Steve doesn’t know why he finds that so disappointing. It shouldn’t matter, but he’d hoped that he’d at least been getting to know the real man, before the other shoe dropped. Apparently not. It just figures that the one decent guy Steve manages to meet would turn out to be a psycho.

“No, it is. James Buchanan Barnes,” James says. “My sister started it, back when we were kids. She couldn’t say Buchanan, so,” he shrugs. “Bucky.”

Steve gapes. “Wait, you really do have a sister? You weren’t just making that up?”

James—or Bucky, apparently—looks hurt. “No, I wasn’t making it up. I never lied to you, Steve.”

Steve can’t help it, he laughs meanly. “Yeah right. You said there was nothing down here but storage,” he snaps, yanking his hand back from Bucky’s grip. “You’re a serial killer!”

“I didn’t lie to you about who I am,” Bucky says sternly. “I’m still the same person, Steve. Everything we had together was real. It still is.” He puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder and grips him. “I still care about you.”

Steve swallows heavily, wondering if his face is neutral. He’s trying to keep it that way, but it’s hard when all he feels is horror, disappointment and disgust. At least he’s managed not to yank himself away from Bucky’s grip on him. “Bucky,” he says, trying the name out. It seems to fit, and James looks very pleased when he uses it. Steve nods. “Okay. Bucky it is.”

Bucky smiles. “I knew you were special,” he says happily. But when Steve doesn’t react, he gets despondent again. “I didn’t want this for you,” he says, releasing Steve’s shoulder. “I wanted us to be happy together.”

Steve frowns. “How was that going to work?” he asks. “Don’t you think I would’ve found out about this eventually?”

Bucky nods. “Well yeah. But not like this. I was going to tell you, eventually. But I was gonna break it to you slowly.”

Steve fights the urge to laugh like a maniac. “Oh? How does one break that kind of news slowly?”

“I know it’s a lot. And it’s shocking.”

“Gee, you think?” Steve quips.

Bucky laughs, Steve’s levity putting him at ease. He sits down on the floor, crossing his legs. “It's so different from what people think. God, if you only knew, Steve. Knew what it was really like.”

Steve shivers at how dreamily Bucky says that. He has to work up the courage to say, “Tell me?”

Bucky looks surprised that he’s asking, but then his eyes sharpen on him, evaluating. He’s suspicious. “Why do you want to know?” he asks.

Steve shrugs and tries to act like it’s no big deal. “I dunno. Just curious I guess. What it tastes like, why you even want to do it.” He peeks up at Bucky. “Why do you?”

For a moment, it doesn’t seem like Bucky’s going to answer. But then he says, “It’s not just about food, or eating. It’s…” he pauses, staring at Steve in an evaluating way, like he’s not sure Steve will get it. “It’s about giving,” he eventually says, watching Steve carefully. “Giving yourself over to somebody. Becoming one with somebody else, forever. And that’s…” he shakes his head, reverent. “That’s a beautiful thing. That’s surrender. That’s true intimacy.”

Steve gulps, suddenly hoping that his lunch stays down for this conversation. “But…” he breathes. “But they don’t do it willingly.”

Bucky’s eyes lose their gleam. He looks away. “No,” he says quietly. “No, they don’t.” He doesn’t expound on that, and Steve doesn’t dare to ask any more questions. Bucky sighs and moves on. “As for how it tastes, well…” the corners of his mouth curl up, and when he meets Steve’s eyes again, it’s terrifying. “If it’s done right? It’s like nothing you’ve ever tasted before. It’s fucking exquisite.”

Steve thinks of the story Bucky had told, about the villagers in China; the mystery meat. He knows now that it must’ve been true. That was probably the first time Bucky had ever tasted human flesh. And he’d liked it. Steve shivers. “And you know lots of other people who do this?” he asks. "Enough to run a whole business off of?"

A cannibal cabal, Christ.

Bucky nods. “My clients; they like to eat women, specifically. Because it’s a sexual thing for them, you know?” He shrugs. “I don’t think women actually taste better, but whatever. I’m here to satisfy the customer.” He tilts his head and squints at Steve. “You know, if you wanted to try it…”

“No,” Steve says, knowing that his acting abilities don’t extend that far. He shakes his head. “I can’t. Please.”

Bucky looks disappointed, but he accepts it. “Okay,” he says softly. “Don’t worry. I won’t make you.” He moves closer, kneeling right in front of Steve and looking at him tenderly. He puts both hands on his shoulders. Steve fights not to recoil. “Steve,” Bucky says softly, voice full of emotion. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I wish I could have you upstairs with me, I really do. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Steve swallows dryly. “What are you gonna do?”

Bucky stares at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he leans in and kisses him on the mouth. He pulls back and watches Steve’s expression. “I don’t know,” he says softly. “I want to keep you, I do. I don't want to have to hurt you. I want to date you, like we were doing.”

Steve shivers under Bucky’s scrutiny. This guy is whacked. “...But?” he asks.

Bucky shakes his head sadly. He pulls back and rises to his feet. “I don’t know,” he says. “I just don’t know.” He walks back over to the door. “I’ve always dreamed of finding someone who I could share this with, you know? Someone I could really trust and share absolutely everything with. Because it gets lonely, ya know? Having this part of myself that I can’t share with a partner."

Steve stares, incredulous at Bucky’s capacity for delusion. “You said you were married,” he says, suddenly remembering. “What happened to him?” Bucky’s expression shutters and he looks away, and that’s all the answer that Steve needs. “You killed him,” Steve whispers, horrified.

Bucky turns away. “I told you we didn’t see eye to eye on things. It just wasn’t meant to be.”

Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing. “So you ate him?”

“No,” Bucky says sharply, looking back over his shoulder at Steve with something like resentment. “I would never eat someone I loved.”

Steve starts to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Not without their consent.”

Steve’s eyes bug out of his head.

Bucky shakes his head as he notices Steve’s expression. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be different with us. You'll see. It’ll take time, I know that now. But maybe in the long run it’s good that you found out this soon. Now we can just work on moving past it.”

Steve blinks at him. Keep your face calm, keep your face calm, don’t make a face, relaxrelaxrelax—

Bucky sighs and steps out of the cell. “I’ll be back later with your dinner, okay?” He slides the door shut. The electric keypad beeps. He gives Steve one last bittersweet look of affection through the wooden slats. “Try to relax. Get some rest. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Steve watches him leave, hears him take the steps back upstairs, opening and closing the door up there, more electronic locks beeping. Once Steve’s positive that he’s alone again, he inhales hugely and lets it out in a long, slow exhale. ��Fuck,” he whispers, overwhelmed. This is not going to be easy.

Bucky

Bucky finds himself feeling melancholy as the day wears on. He thinks about Ian a lot, remembers how his husband had looked at him like he was a monster, when Bucky had finally confided his deepest secret. It was like watching a Manchurian candidate switch on; like the past three years hadn’t happened and he’d never even loved Bucky at all.

To feel better, he pulls some of Melissa for dinner, seasoning and cooking the meat sous vide. He lights the tall candlesticks on the dining room table in her honor and eats slowly, thinking about how she’d smiled up at him, that last time. She’d told Bucky that she was ready, that she knew she was crazy and Bucky could finally end it. He’d promised her he would. And then she’d smiled and cried and asked him for a kiss before she slipped under.

Bucky thinks it’s pretty fucked up, that he kissed her. Maybe even more fucked up than the fact that he’s sitting here eating her with a garlic velouté. But he can't help it. He loves the ones that find acceptance in the end. Melissa had been beautiful to him, then. Willingness is the ultimate fantasy, of course, but that's something which Bucky has come to realize he'll probably never get.

He sighs, sipping his glass of wine. It’s Sunday evening. He was supposed to be sharing a meal with Steve right now, laughing over stupid jokes and learning more about each other. Growing closer. Setting the stage for a future where he could finally be truly intimate with the person he loved.

Bucky’s so upset that this is how it’s played out. Melissa doesn’t even taste that good, his stomach churning the more he ruminates about it. He sets his fork down and rubs his forehead in stress, thinking of Steve. Fuck, he doesn’t want to lose him.

After dinner he sends a tray down in the dumbwaiter, carrying another. He passes Steve’s room and hears him call out, but Bucky doesn’t answer. He doesn’t want Steve to have to know any more about Eileen than is strictly necessary. She’s a horrible person, and Steve shouldn’t have to deal with her. Bucky sits Eileen up and feeds her her dinner, not bothering to talk to her. She’s teetering on the edge, he can tell. If he’s lucky, she’ll go catatonic. Then he won’t even have to make conversation. He wipes her mouth and asks her if she has to use the bathroom.

No answer.

He lays her back down, covering her with the blanket. She’s just depressing him now. Bucky takes a good, long look at her when he’s standing back at the door to her room, admiring his work and what he’s reduced her to. “Do you know why I did this to you?” he asks her, in an uncharacteristically morbid mood. “Hm?”

Slowly, she turns her head to look at him. She doesn’t say anything, which pisses Bucky off.

“It’s because you’re the lowest level of human scum. A mother’s supposed to protect her children, not offer them up for the slaughter.”

She blinks at him. “So you slaughtered me.”

He nods.

“How did I taste?”

Bucky shrugs. “Average.” He’s long since abandoned the notion that a person’s moral fiber affects their taste. It doesn’t. Bucky’s clients are romantic. They like to think that sex and age and race make a difference, but the sad fact of the matter is that underneath their skin, people are all the same—meat. “I dressed you up with a really nice red wine reduction,” he tells her, more to try and fuck with her emotions than anything else. “If that makes you feel better.”

“Why not him?” she asks, and Bucky knows who she means.

“Because you’re her mother!” he growls. “The one person a child is supposed to be able to count on, no matter what!” Not that he hadn’t considered taking the boyfriend, too, but that was a lot more work, and he’d never make a profit on a male anyways. “How can you even live with yourself? How could you let him in your home?!”

She infuriates him further by not caring. “I worked with what I had,” she says.

Bucky sees red. He immediately leaves the room and goes to grab a syringe of potassium chloride. “You’re done,” he tells her, then finds a vein and pushes. He watches as her heart stops and the light fades from her eyes.

Like always, he’s not as satisfied by the death as he wants. He doesn’t think he ever will be.

He’s not in the mood to harvest her, so he puts her on the cart and wheels her into the walk-in fridge, leaving her there to be dealt with later. He’ll send out an email tomorrow to see if he’s got any takers on fresh organ meats or ribs. Sometimes he gets lucky and can hock the entrails at full price.

If not, oh well. He’ll just make a nice paté.

Steve is reading a book when Bucky brings his dinner in. “Hey,” Bucky says, setting the tray down next to the mattress and taking a seat on the floor. He looks Steve over. He seems calm enough, which Bucky likes. “What are you reading?”

“Atlas Shrugged. You have a very well-rounded library,” he tells him. Then he catches sight of Bucky’s face and he looks him over more closely. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky’s lips twitch. “How do you know anything’s wrong?”

“I can tell,” he says simply. “You’re upset.”

Bucky stares at him, but eventually he huffs and gives up, looking away. “Eileen’s done,” he says. “It’s just you down here, now.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “You… you killed her?”

“Yeah.” Bucky sees him react. The kid is afraid. “Steve, I told you I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that,” he mutters. “But here I am, chained up in your basement.”

Bucky snorts and looks away. “Yeah. Touché.”

They’re both quiet then. Eventually Steve reaches for half of the turkey sandwich Bucky’s prepared for him. He lifts the top piece of bread and then looks to Bucky with a dubious eyebrow raised. “It’s ‘vegetarian’,” Bucky says, putting quotes on the word to let Steve know he means “people-free.”

Steve takes a bite so big that Bucky can’t help but feel warmed by how it means that Steve is trusting him. Steve chews and says, “What are you going to do with me?”

God, isn’t that the fucking dilemma of the year? Bucky shakes his head, frowning at the tray between them. “I don’t know.”

“...You could take me back upstairs,” Steve suggests. Bucky’s eyes shoot back up, alarmed. “Just to hang out!” Steve adds hastily. “We could spend time together, but then you could always put me back down here.”

Bucky sighs. Steve’s a smart cookie, he’ll give him that. “No,” he tells him. “You’re just trying to escape.”

“I’m not. I—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Steve shuts up abruptly, and Bucky feels bad for having snapped. He clenches his jaw and looks away. He hates seeing Steve afraid of him. “You shouldn’t have snuck down here, Steve,” he grumbles, pissed, because Steve has ruined everything. Bucky was so excited to finally get to be with someone, to start anew and do it right this time. But now they can’t even have that.

Really, he’s not even angry at Steve. He’s angry at himself. He’s never, ever left the door to the basement unlocked. It was a freak accident and it’s ruined all his plans. “Fuck,” he curses quietly, slapping his hand down onto the carpeted floor in frustration. He closes his eyes and puts his head in his hands. He feels so lost.

Before he knows it, he feels an arm wrapping around him. Steve has moved to his side and is trying to hold him comfortingly.

Bucky looks over, surprised. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” Steve murmurs. “I’m sorry I went and messed it up. …I really did like you, before.”

Bucky’s heart constricts. “You did?” he asks, wanting to hear him say it again.

“Yeah.” Steve says, his voice so sad, like he’s lost all hope of ever finding someone to love, now. “I did.”

Bucky knows that he has to show Steve that they can still be together, that the important things haven’t changed. “I’m still me, Steve,” he promises. “And you’re still you. And we’re here together. We can still make it work.”

Steve makes a noise of protest, but Bucky hushes him. “I’m going to show you,” he says, already thinking about how he’ll do it. “You’ll see.” Steve’s face is doubtful as Bucky gets up, but Bucky is motivated now. He isn’t going to let Steve become just another captive. He’s going to make him see. He’s going to make him his.

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haywire-hetfield · 7 months ago

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Oh my god I can’t stop thinking about Lars and James fighting during like babytallica era, and they end up getting physical on the floor and something one of them do (stepping on the others crotch, choking e/o, etc) gets one of them hard and they both are like ??? 🫣 and it turns into something gay as fuck (if you can write something like this I will literally lose my mind /pos)

Sure!

A Step Beyond

Warnings: Hair pulling, fighting, grinding/dry humping

Words: 1,344

Lars couldn’t even remember what they were fighting about. Being stuck around the same people all the time with no escape was enough to set anyone on edge, though. Every little thing became something massive once they’d been on tour long enough. The hotel rooms were a nice reprieve when they got them, but even the added space couldn’t completely calm them down.

He couldn’t remember what they were fighting about, but he remembered being too close to James. Looking back on it, he knew he started the fight. He shouldn’t have pushed into James’ personal space, intentionally trying to goad a reaction out of him. He remembered shoving the blonde hard enough to almost knock him over on the bed. The next moments moved in a blur, James moving off of the bed quicker than he’d ever seen. He remembered his skull making contact with the carpeted hotel floor and James’ solid weight on top of him.

“Let go of me,” Lars snapped, despite the fact he had started this in the first place. He avoided yelling for now, not wanting to get the hotel staff called on them. James caught his wrists roughly and held onto them, pinning them down onto the floor. Lars thrashed around beneath him, trying to dislodge him. It wasn’t a fair fight by any means, James was far bigger than him and even at his harshest movement, Lars didn’t even come close to throwing James off of him. “This isn’t fucking funny. I’m serious,” He warned.

“Are you going to stop if I let you up?” James asked, his hand holding Lars a bit too roughly. Still, Lars didn’t want to say yes. It felt too much like letting James win and he was far too angry to let that happen. Instead, he shoved against James as hard as he could. It didn’t seem to catch James off guard, loosening his grip for a moment before reorienting himself. In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t do much to get James off of him. “Stay still,” His hand tightened again and Lars was sure there would be bruises left along his wrists.

Lars stopped moving around as much, trying to catch his breath a bit. He thought about his next move, looking for a way to get James off of him without apologizing or stopping. James watched him closely and didn’t seem to trust that Lars was actually calming down. The idea hit him quickly and he spit without thinking. The angle made it a bit awkward, but his saliva hit James almost directly and it was clear he hadn’t been expecting it.

“What the fuck?” James hissed out, letting go of Lars to wipe his face off. Lars moved as soon as he did, doing his best to wiggle away from him, but James recovered from it quickly. He went to grab his arms again and Lars retaliated this time, trying to keep his arms free. One hand curled into the mess of blonde hair and yanked hard, hoping James would relent and move off of his body. He was caught off guard by a soft moan and a jerk of James’ hips, though. Looking at his face, James’ eyes were closed tightly and Lars wasn’t sure if it was from pain or not.

“Was that-” Lars didn’t finish his question, knowing the answer to it already. James was pressed close to his body and Lars could feel he was half-hard. He watched James’ face for a moment, smiling when he saw James’ cheeks turning a bright pink. He’d always been so easy to fluster. “Does that feel good?” He asked quietly, making sure there was no judgment in his tone, not even playful teasing. The entirety of their anger had melted away almost instantly, being replaced with something much more intimate.

“Shut up,” James said, although there wasn’t as much bite in his voice as he wanted there to be. It was clear embarrassment had overshadowed any frustration he felt towards Lars. His eyes didn’t open and Lars loosened his hold on his hair, petting it softer than he’d pulled. James was quiet, unsure of what to say and Lars sympathized. He knew there wasn’t a social precedent about what to do in this situation.

“Rub off against me,” Lars suggested once his brain landed on what he wanted to do. It might not be the most smart move, it could seriously fuck things up between them, but it was definitely what he wanted the most. James’ eyes opened finally, staring at him and looking for any hint of him joking. There was none to be found and James nodded once he realized this, cheeks still bright red. “It’s okay. We don’t have to even talk about it after,” He encouraged and it seemed to be the reassurance James needed.

His eyes closed again and he readjusted himself, pressing his face into Lars’ shoulder and wedging the smaller man’s leg between his own thighs. It was awkward and uncomfortable at first, both wiggling and rearranging for a bit before finding the right position. Eventually, James found what worked best and he rocked against Lars unevenly. A soft, choked off moan left him at the first press and Lars smiled.

Lars moved his fingers to the back of James’ head, sliding them deep into the nape of his neck and curled them around his hair. He held close to his scalp and didn’t pull very hard, not yet anyway. He just held him firmly enough for James to feel the first pull of his hair, the threat of him getting rougher right there. James was torn between wanting it and being nervous about the pain, but he was leaning harder towards the first feeling. His hips found a steady pace after a bit of time and Lars could hear his breathing intensifying.

“Just like that, James. Keep going,” Lars encouraged, although it didn’t seem like he needed to. James made no signs of slowing down or stopping now that he’d found something that worked, chasing how good it felt. Lars wondered when the last time he’d been with another person was if he was already this desperate for it. He didn’t mind it, though. If anything, he found it attractive that James was so needy. His fingers tightened and he tugged his hair firmly just to gain a reaction, smiling when James whined. “Keep going,” He told him again and James rocked harder against him, growing more eager with every small pull.

James didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. He was perfect the way he was. Lars smiled and could even ignore his own needs in favor of letting James essentially use his body to get off. This was doing more for him than actually touching himself would, he was sure of it. He closed his own eyes now too, savoring every sound James made so close to his ear. A harsher groan was pulled from the blonde haired man and Lars knew he had to be getting close to the edge, his hips rocking harder and faster.

“Come for me,” Lars attempted to inspirit him, tugging at his hair once again. It earned an almost pitiful whine and Lars would do anything to hear that as often as he could. James lasted longer than he thought he would, going for a few minutes more before his body was tensing and his thrusts were slowing down. “Good. Just like that,” Lars murmured as James’ body grew too sensitive to keep pressing against him, hips jerking minutely.

James was breathing heavy against his throat now, sharp and ragged breaths as he attempted to calm himself down. He stayed pressed close and Lars wondered how much of that was from embarrassment. His fingers became gentler in James’ hair, petting through it and holding onto him until he was ready to continue. He wasn’t sure if James would want to get him off in return, but even if he didn’t, he thought this was still pretty good.

#james hetfield x lars ulrich #lars ulrich x james hetfield #james hetfield smut #james hetfield nsft #lars ulrich smut #lars ulrich nsft #smut #nsft #rpf #hetrich #jlars #metallica #james hetfield #lars ulrich #metallica smut #metallica nsft #asks

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very-gay-poet · 29 days ago

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Always A God Never An Angel- A Harry Potter Fanfic.

We all know the tale of Harry Potter, Magic Boy goes to Magic School, has dead parents, blah, blah, blah.

Well, I don’t like that version of the story, considering I’m close friends with the lad. I know each myth and legend has its variations but come on! I was there; she could've asked me! Look, I get it, she went for an “inspiration” approach to the story, but it just feels insulting!

So I dedicate this to you Jo, you little shit.

First of all, before I begin, Happy Halloween everyone!

On this day, in 1981, Lily and James Potter, parents to their one year old son, were killed by the darkest sorcerer of the age; Voldemort.

Now you must be yelling, through your tears, as I dare to remind, you today of all days, the demise of the Potters, “tHiS iSn’T aNy difFeReNt FrOm tHe HaRrY pOtTeR I kNoW!!!”

Okay then how 'bout this?

Voldemort brings werewolfed-out Fenrir Greyback along (it was a full moon. You want a source? Just-uhhhhh-trust…plot convenience! Yeah, trust plot convenience! And me being lazy in giving anything real reasoning, but most of the time I do have reasons! The reasons might be that it’s either funny, entertaining, or makes people sad. Boy do I like making people sad! And happy…it’s a coin flip really). Now, enough of my ADHD rambles, in summery, Mr. No Nose brought along the Big Bad Wolf for the ride.

And even with all that, he still didn’t kill the kid. Actually he died instead. Well, not really. To find out what actually happened to that ugly fucker you'll have to read Always A God Never An Angel sorry not sorry bbg its not you its me </3

And Harry Potter? Well, he was left with a nasty scar on his forehead and a werewolf bite, sobbing his eyes out, calling for his Mama, who lay dead on the floor next to him, her husband at arm's length.

A werewolf bite? Yes. I don't think I s-s-s-stuttered thank you very much. Harry Potter is a werewolf (read: An on the nose analogy) as of October 31st 1981 because...plot.

Does that mean REMUS LUPIN?????? I can hear your yelling from here! And also yes. And Mary. And, yes, of course reference to Wolfstar they're dating why would I write them out??? I'm not homophobic, I'm not just gonna say a characters gay because I need diversity and relevance, but I waited until all the books and movies were finished and there was no way to make it canon. Do you think my name is J.K Rowling???

Oh!!! And speaking of, a lot of things have changed from the story that you know, because why not, so please don't be shocked when things don't line up with "canon" :D

Happy Holidays friends! I'll see you all eventually 😘

-DH

Hi, very-gay-poet here!!! please ask me any questions you may have I'm so excited to share some of the things I've been working on and this is related to my pinned post if you wanna check it out!!! I'm not too sure on the title might just call it Spite Fic or To Be Petty but eh who knows. THANK YOU AND I LOVE YA'LL mwah mwah 💋

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lexithwrites · 10 months ago

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One shot / headcannon idea to maybe help get you writing for: wolfstar :)

Remus is a total major loser. Like he’s definitely not swag boy Remus he’s just some guy that constantly hangs around with it boys James and Sirius. No one understands why. He gets a little insecure about it sometimes.

(Obviously they always assure him that’s he’s fucking brilliant to them and don’t let him leave because they’re best friends but anyway, he’s just a loser boy, not very attractive, always keeps to himself and just reads all the time, blah blah blah)

And Sirius Black, the boy of Hogwarts. Like all the girls are fawning over him, hoping they catch Sirius’ eye. He’s just drop dead gorgeous you know but he just doesn’t care. Like sure he knows he’s hot and he gets quite cocky about it sometimes and uses it to his advantage to get what he wants and pull of pranks, but generally he just doesn’t give and shit and just wants to spend time with his Friends.

Hot as hell Sirius Black + loser boy not really attractive Remus Lupin = angsty pining.

And I don’t mean this in the way that Remus pins for Sirius and thinks he’ll never get him. NO! What if Remus doesn’t even know he’s gay. What if he just thinks he’s so jealous of everything Sirius is and blah blah blah (classic queer girls thinking they wanna be that cool older girl and then growing up and realising they just had a crush).

And it’s Sirius who’s so pathetically in love with Remus. Like since day one. And it’s all James and even Peter have to hear about but it can NEVER get back to Remus because obviously Remus isn’t gay and obviously he’ll reject Sirius because obviously anyone will reject him once they learn about all of Sirius’ scars and dark parts.

And so it’s Sirius just being so in love with this major loser boy Remus and not knowing what to do with it. And then Remus finding out and just being (1) confused as hell. (2) going into gay crisis. (3) wondering how the hell someone like Sirius would ever want Remus

I think that would be funny. Because we usually see it the other way around ya know?

Anyway, no pressure to write obviously, I just thought I’d leave this here anyway. I know the struggle of needing motivation to write lol. Happy writing and happy weekend!

(you're amazing for all the mesages btw)

remus being a fucking loser is my favourite thing, like he's so quiet and weird and just sits in cafes and reads books for hours—he's me, i am remus—and hates talking to people but works in like a damn cafe so he has to and then there's sirius who probably loves talking to customers and everyone on earth and he can talk about anything for hours and make people feel welcome and remus just doesn't get what sirius sees in him but sirius is lowkey like THIS GUY IS SO HOT AND QUIET AND MYSTERIOUS I WANNA CLIMB HIM LIKE A TREE—

#the marauders #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #wolfstar headcanon #wolfstar hc #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #remus lupin x sirius black #sirius black x remus lupin

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spinteresting · 6 months ago

Text

Watching Rick Gomez’s movie The Week. And I shall be putting all my thoughts in this post.

Spoilers below the cut

It’s James Madio!!!

Oh this is funny

He had a blast smashing things with a bat I know it

Ew the toothpaste

Aw the pup! So sweet

Watching on Tubi was worth it for the BSB detergent commercial

Very funny that his name is dick

Richard Speight Jr!!! He’s southern?

Atheist cookbook 😂 amazing

No! Not your friend’s wife. Bad decision.

Fuck… really bad decision

Oh wait. Open marriage? That isn’t working?

using his own words against him! 😂

It is funny though

This got so messy

I’m enjoying it

What a red beard

Oh is it getting gay?

No apparently Rick’s just good at making things feel that way for a moment

Song: Top that guy - fantastic

Another randomly southern person in this movie set in California

Rick almost missing his mouth with his flask 😆

Lotta leg. Not complaining

Feel like a 10 year old might be safer alone than with his drunk ass

The clips from the show

Frank John Hughes with long hair!

Pup with the ball!

At least she checked his breath for alcohol

Good job kid

He’s shifting into dad mode

That’s Rick’s kid right?

Madio again! Yeah!

Horoscopes 😂

Does Rick have these tattoos?

Probably, I doubt he put on fake tattoos for this

The podcast thing is interesting…whoa

Dick, it’s not the time to kiss people

The quacking notification reminds me of my husband

Skype 😂

I like this guy

You go Lenny!

Him and his brother!

All these cuts were a choice

This receptionist

So many red heads in this!

What a pretty pup

Dick you better say something

Though I have a feeling you don’t deserve your wife

The emotion in his voice

He’s off to find himself

I enjoyed this movie and thought it was good. Concept was great. I think with just a little something it could have been even better. Not sure what exactly though.

#the week #rick gomez #richard speight jr #James Madio #bob cast #that was fun

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arliedraws · 5 months ago

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Young Sirius as a boyfriend? I'm talking post Hogwarts Sirius, in the order. I imagined this scenario: there's this girl in the order (yeah, I know most people headcanon him as gay or bi, but for me he isn't, don't judge me, ok? :c), he doesn't feel much for her at first. They met in hogwarts, and she always kind of liked him, but he never cared so much for her, until they realised they have the same sense of humour, family trauma (different kind, but still) and a similar sense of adventure. Slowly he starts falling for her. I think he would be intense, but he wouldn't accept his feelings for her at first. I think that Sirius might have secretly wanted what James and Lily had..like he craved that kind of love he got from his friends (James especially), but at some point he would like to have his own family. Sorry too long😅

I’m not poo-pooing this idea, it’s only that I don’t see Sirius feeling like he has time for a relationship during the war, so I don’t think he’d ever be a boyfriend at all (or call himself one). If there really was a girl in the Order who fell for him (which, I sort of doubt because I think MWPP + Lily were the only youngsters in the group), I would imagine he would find anyone who doesn’t take the cause seriously to be a bit too silly for him. I agree with some of your points, but personally, I don’t think he would want what James and Lily had - I think he just wants JAMES (even if it isn’t Prongsfoot-style desire).

And who Sirius is in a relationship depends on who the person is, you know?

If you were going to build an OFC for young Sirius, you would need to make her really fucking interesting. Like, there’s no wishy-washy nonsense here, and you can’t self-insert here because our self-inserts are never that interesting (because we take away the things we don’t like about ourselves and hardly any of us see ourselves accurately tbh). I don’t think she needs to be that hot, frankly, but she needs to be interesting (but he’d need to find her sexy). This is why I rarely ship him with people his own age.

An OFC who’s in the Order for a post-Hogwarts, young Sirius could be:

- A woman who is 5-10 years older than him (or, idk, 15-20 is fine too). She should be able to teach him a few things, and he would probably then get off showing HER things.

- A young woman who was a prefect OR Head Girl when he was a 1st-2nd year and took points from him/gave him detention (and he never forgot). Same as above.

- A young woman who was recruited because she is VERY good at something (Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Potions, etc) and she’s very serious about it (and not very silly—that doesn’t mean not funny, but definitely not a silly person). OR she is really well-connected and her parents are hoping she’ll make a good marriage after Hogwarts, so Dumbledore sees her as a useful “in” to pureblood circles. But still, not silly.

But golly, I really struggle with OFCs for Sirius. I see him either having casual sex (not in a fuckboy way, but in a “sex is a stress reliever” way), or having a relationship so compelling to him that to suggest he’s simply a boyfriend would be insulting. No in-between. They are partners, not boyfriend/girlfriend. He takes the idea of each person giving equally very seriously, but in the end, he does have to ‘win’ and the person he’s with would have to accept that (but like, they could know he’s wrong and be okay with the fact that he thinks he’s won if he really hasn’t). Sirius is the most loyal person—once he’s decided on you, that’s it, baby. If you do something wrong or betray him, he’ll punish you (and it’ll be cold and mean and petty as hell). He’ll let you see the deepest parts of himself, but the trade-off is that he sees you too—and if you fuck with him, he will use your insecurities against you—very, very effectively.

So my point is, you not only have to be interesting, you have to be willing to be humble AND stick up for yourself just the right amount (unless he believes the sun shines out of your ass like James). It’s a fine fucking line. If you do something wrong, he’ll stand up for you, but you’d better not make it a habit. Don’t tell him what to do or suggest that you know better than him. You are partners, and if he feels like you’re getting the upper hand, he will bring you back to his level very quickly. No, I would not like to be in a romantic relationship with him.

The reason James is so perfect for Sirius is that Sirius sees him as everything a person is SUPPOSED to be. So uh, if you can top that, sure. Go for it.

#this got long #i’m not even 100% sure about the ‘suggested’ ocs #but if you want to make an ofc you have your work cut out for you #sirius black #asks

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talenlee · 10 months ago

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Story Pile: D.E.B.S.

The term ‘cult classic’ gets used more than I’m comfortable with what with having been in a cult and not being considered classic by anyone, but I do think it’s important to recognise that the term has some weight. For example, this movie, D.E.B.S, pronounced ‘Debs’ is considered a cult classic of LGBTQ media. It does this in a way that if this movie came out in 2023, it would be considered a pretty funny epsiode of a TV Show, with no edge or bite to it. It looks like a pretty fun Onlyfans promotional poster. It has the overall aesthetic of The Porno Version Of Itself. D.E.B.S. is a lot of things and one of them is cheap.

But it’s also a lot of fun.

Content and Spoiler Warning: I think it’s important to say up front that despite being a pop-punk comedy movie from 2004 renowned as a ‘cult classic’ in queer communities, this is a movie that both asks and tells, and to my surprise featured just one instance of ‘oh well that didn’t age well’ in the form of an incidental drop of the r-word. I’m also going to spoil the whole movie’s plot but don’t worry if you’ve ever seen a TV Show you’ve probably already spoiled it for yourself.

D.E.B.S tells the story of a something-like-a-college where young women from I think mostly just schools in the United States, who else does the SAT? Oh, France, I think. So France and the United States. Anyway, it’s a test that runs under the SAT that finds out if you’re secretly good for recruiting into the D.E.B.S, which stands for… something, it doesn’t matter. You know the vibe of like, Josie and the Pussycats? Yeah, that, that, it’s that kinda thing. What, that’s not a universal touchstone?

Look this is a camp superhero special effects driven James Bond style movie that looks like a really fancy episode of a TV show. And when I say camp, I mean it – there’s this persistent reliance on excess in its presentation. You don’t just see a viewscreen of a shouting boss, you see every frame in the building a viewscreen of that shouting boss. And let me tell you when Michael Clarke Duncan shows up and shouts as the opening of your movie on a hundred screens, you’re kinda setting the tone for how subtle you don’t want to be.

This movie, which you might notice I keep calling ‘this movie’ instead of its actual name because typing out its name is annoying, is notable for being one of a long list of box office failures that some people think is great. For example, John Travolta is probably a pretty big fan of Gotti, a movie with a budget of 10 million dollars that maybe made a generous six million dollars. This means that Gotti‘s difference between its budget and take is about 3.6 million dollars, which just happens to be about the combined budget and box office take of D.E.B.S. Which is to say, this movie cost about 3.5 million to make and made maybe a hundred thousand. If we’re generous on the rounding.

I guess I should also say that when I say ‘this is a gay movie’ I mean it. This movie asks and tells. This movie is about two women who are of the time I think meant to be particularly hot, but not, you know, improperly hot, who get involved with one another and there are makeouts and they’re shown in bed and someone else calls it a lesbian fling and they ride off into the moonlight together. It’s not just unambiguously gay in the way we say that about anime where the girls touch each other’s hands, it’s like, gay enough that active denial runs aground.

You might be kinda surprised to learn that this wasn’t super common. Sure, girl on girl kissing showed up in things but it wasn’t like it was a proof of anything gay – Cruel Intentions was a franchise spun out of, essentially, one girl-on-girl kiss from characters we spent decades arguing isn’t really actually lesbian. You see women making out in The Sopranos, it doesn’t make that a piece of great gay media of the 00s. But it is surprising! Effort was made and these are two distinct-from-one-another women, one openly lesbian, one curious-then-considering-then-committing, and they have a relationship with disagreements and common interests and this shouldn’t be so bloody remarkable!

Stripped to the studs this is just a typical high school drama story set in the generic space between 15 and 20 that is meant to be young enough to be universally relatable but old enough that nobody needs to consider it’s probably a crime to want to see anyone’s nipples. It’s in the same it’s just a school drama story with dating but the school drama is about spies, and instead of the head cheerleader and the prom and the will-they-won’t-they-quit where the bad boy gets a haircut and learns to talk nicely to someone’s parents, are a Sexy Spy, the prom is the Best Spy award, and the bad boy is a bad girl.

I’m not about the somewhat muddy politics of the ambitious black member of the group being lying and conniving and in the way, until she’s not. It’s one of those things where in a cast of four characters, where you have to dole out the roles of Main Character, Idiot, Asshole, and Narc, the only place in the calculus where the black girl doesn’t get handed a stereotype ball to run with is main character and while this movie was trying interesting things, it wouldn’t try something as interesting as letting a black woman play the central protagonist in a queer action comedy with an otherwise principly white cast.

Which is a shame because that sure would be interesting.

What else is there, hmm, oh yeah, the characters have terrible trigger discipline, but also the guns are pretty comically shiny and silly. Like I’m sure a serious gun person could watch this movie and dismantle all the silly ways the guns are handled. Oh yeah the soundtrack whips, it’s not like true bangers of the era but it’s the kind of sound, the vibe of the times. Scud. I like Scud. I think Scud is pretty funny and walks the line between obviously evil and obviously hilarious. Uhhh what else then, what’s left.

And, uh, it’s fun! It’s really fun! It’s a funny movie, though not for the reasons it necessarily thinks it is, and it’s a movie that’s trying to be funny. It’s funny because it’s a little bit awkward and a bit cringe and it’s trying hard to do things that are at the time pretty fun and positive, even though it’s just…

It’s not good at it.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Media #Story Pile

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