#i mean all my problems would be solved if i read the fucking cooking instructions

[pucking-insane]

Gotta Get Back By Christmas

Player: Jack Hughes Word Count: 2219 Warnings: Christmas and mild cursing

Ever since the Hughes family moved in next door to you when you were fifteen, your families had always spent Christmas and Christmas Eve together. And even though the Hughes family was Jewish and Christian, you still celebrated both winter holidays.

“You know, honey, a watched pot never boils.” Ellen said as you stared out the Hughes’ window waiting for your boyfriend to come home for Christmas.

It was Christmas Eve at five in the afternoon and you were still waiting for Jack. He had played last night in Chicago and he should have flown into Detroit hours ago.

Jack Flight got delayed again, I hope to be in by 8

There was a snowstorm barreling through the upper midwest and Chicago seemed to be the next victim. Jack’s flight, which should have taken off at nine this morning, had already been delayed by six hours.

You only had limited time to spend with your boyfriend before he had to be back in New Jersey and these delays only shortened the time you got to spend together. To be quite honest, it pissed you off. In all reality, the next time you would be able to see Jack after Christmas was your spring break, and that was a long way away.

Quinn, on the other hand, had played a home game last night in Vancouver and was able to catch a red-eye into Detroit shortly after the game had ended. Luckily, he missed all of the snow and didn’t have a single delay.

Your Dad and Jim were watching TV in the living room and Luke and Quinn were most likely playing Chel on Luke’s Xbox in his room. Your mom and Ellen were cooking dinner like they did every year. You were sitting on the Hughes’ couch not really paying attention to anything other than the fact that Jack wasn’t home yet.

Jack was the only one missing and it really made you upset. You had a huge surprise for Jack that you had planned on giving to him tomorrow and it would just break your heart if you couldn’t give it to him on Christmas.

Jack Finally boarding…

Y/N YES

Jack Should be in Detroit in the next 2.5 hours Have to turn on airplane mode I love you…

Y/N To the moon and back

“Jack is finally taking off.” You tell everyone at dinner after your phone buzzes.

“Wonderful!” Your mom says, knowing that you’ll at least somewhat engage in the conversation now that you knew Jack would be home by eight.

Even though Jack wasn’t home, you still continued with your Christmas traditions. You, your mom, and Ellen did the dishes as the boys went outside of a game of street hockey.

Once the dishes were done, the ladies would sit in the living room and talk until the boys came inside.

“You okay?” Ellen asked you after noticing that you kept checking your phone every thirty seconds.

“I just miss Jack. I haven’t seen him since November when I went to Vancouver and even then we didn’t have much time together.”

“I know, honey,” Ellen says wrapping you in a hug. Ellen was like a second mom to you and so moments like these were really special to both of you. You were the daughter she never had.

“I mean we text all the time and I’m distracted with school a lot, but seeing Alex and Cole all the time makes me miss him even more.” You were a freshman at the University of Wisconsin studying Kinesiology. Being at Wisconsin allowed you to be with your friends from the NTDP, like Alex Turcotte and Cole Caufield. You were crying into Ellen’s shoulder at this point, just wanting to be cuddling with your boyfriend.

You three ladies talked for another hour before you finally got the text you had been waiting for.

Jack Flight just landed, see you soon

“Hey, Jack just landed. I’m gonna see if Quinn and Luke want to come with me to pick him up.”

“Okay, honey, drive safe.” Your mom told you.

You put on your jacket and grabbed your car keys.

“Dukes! Q!” You yelled as you walked out of the house. “Jack’s flight landed and I’m gonna go pick him up. You guys coming with?”

“I call shotgun!” Luke yelled as he raced to the garage to put his hockey stick away.

The half-hour drive to the airport was full of laughter and poorly sung Christmas songs including “All I Want For Christmas Is You” and “Santa Tell Me.”

When you reached the airport pickup line, Quinn took over the driving so you could go inside and wait for Jack.

Your eyes scanned the baggage claim area, looking for your boyfriend. When your eyes met after two minutes of searching, your feet could only run towards Jack. He dropped his bags as you leaped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“I missed you so fucking much,” Jack whispered as he held you.

“Not nearly as much as I missed you.” You whispered back, tears streaming down your face. “I was literally crying in your mom’s arms I wanted to see you so bad.”

You let go of Jack and jumped to the ground. His steel-blue eyes stared into your Y/E/C ones and he pulled you in for a kiss. The kiss was passionate yet gentle. Neither of you wanted the moment to end so you only pulled away when neither of you had any air left in your lungs.

“I love you, Y/N,” Jack whispered as he pulled away.

“I love you more.” You stood on your tiptoes and planted a gentle kiss on his lips. You smiled up at your loving boyfriend. “Now let’s get you home. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“Oh thank God you two are back.” Quinn sighed as you opened the back of the car to put Jack’s bags in the car. “We were thinking y’all were making out in baggage claim.”

Both your face and Jack’s face went red at Quinn’s comment.

“So you did make out in baggage claim!”

“You know you would do the same thing if you didn’t get to see Victoria for months on end,” Jack smirked, knowing he was pushing buttons.

“Victoria?” You raised an eyebrow at Quinn as you got into the back seat of the car with Jack.

“Victoria’s his girlfriend out in Vancouver,” Jack smirked, knowing he revealed something that Quinn didn’t want him to.

“Whatever.” Quinn scoffed as he started the drive back to Plymouth.

When you got back to Plymouth, you helped Jack bring his bags inside. Jack greeted his parents first and then said hi to your parents.

It was around 11 when the eight of you stopped talking in the Hughes's living room, or solving the world's problems as you like to call it.

Your parents went home, leaving you, Jack, Quinn, and Luke to your annual Christmas Eve sleepover.

“No funny business, ok, baby girl.“ Your dad said as he kissed you on the top of the head. You just rolled your eyes.

The boys grabbed the thick blankets that we go on Jack’s floor for Quinn and Luke to sleep on. You and Jack would sleep on his bed, while Quinn and Luke slept on the floor.

You made some popcorn for the four of you to munch on while you talked. Everybody situated themselves in Jack’s room after you all put pajamas on. For you, your pajamas consisted of Lululemon joggers and one of Jack’s USA hockey sweatshirts.

“Who you texting?” You ask Quinn, who had his eyes glued to his phone.

“No one.”

“He’s totally talking to Victoria,” Jack smirked.

“Oh yes, Quinny’s mystery girl.” You said with a giggle. “Tell us all about her.”

“Well, her name is Victoria. She’s a student at the University of British Columbia, but she’s originally from Ottawa.” Quinn explains.

“How’d you meet her?”

“So during the home opener, I accidentally shot a puck into the crowd and it nailed her right in the head. She was treated by the team doctor and in between periods, I went to make sure she was okay and I made sure she got home safe, asked her out and the rest is history.” Quinn told you, a smile on his face.

“You really like her don’t you?”

“I think I’m in love with her, to be honest. We only started dating like two months ago, but everything just feels natural with Victoria.”

“I know the feeling,” Jack said, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“You two are disgusting,” Luke said after pretending to throw up.

“One day, you’ll feel this way about someone and you won’t think it’s disgusting.” You point out to Luke.

“Yeah,” Quinn agrees. “So is there a girl? Or a guy? We’re fine with either.”

“First of all, it would be a girl,” Luke explains, a blush spreading across his face. “And second, no, there’s no girl. Just hockey.”

“Aww come on Lukey, you’re no fun.” You pouted.

The four of you carried on in your conversation until you dozed off in Jack's arms.

When you woke up on Christmas morning, your head rested on Jack’s chest. You could feel the rise and fall of every breath, which only made you want to fall right back asleep. Jack has his arms wrapped around you, keeping you close to him.

Quinn and Luke had already gotten up. The alarm clock on Jack’s nightstand read 8:30 and you figured your parents were already over, so you decided to get your butt out of bed. Only problem, Jack’s death grip didn’t allow you to move.

“Jack.” You whispered. “Come on, baby, time to get up.”

Still nothing. Well, desperate times call for desperate measures. You started close to Jack’s ear and placed a kiss on the edge of his cheek. Your lips traced his cheekbone until you got to Jack’s lips. You felt Jack’s breath hitch and Jacked kisses back.

“Damn, can I get a wake up like that every morning?” Jack said groggily.

“Sorry, Jack.” You giggled. “Now get up I need my coffee.”

You crawled out of bed and made your way down to the kitchen. Your parents were already over, sitting in the living room with Ellen, Jim, Quinn, and Luke. You made yourself a cup of coffee with the Keurig and situated yourself on the floor by your parents.

“Jack coming?” Jim asked.

“Yeah.” You took a sip of your coffee. “You know how much of a zombie he is in the morning.”

All eight of you sat around the Christmas tree, passing out presents to each other. When it came to your turn to give Jack his present, you handed him one of the biggest boxes under the tree.

He tore open the festive paper and opened the box to expose three smaller boxes.

“Open the big one first.” You instructed him.

He took the biggest present out of the box and opened it to reveal a red and black jersey.

“Babe, this is my jersey.” He cocked his head in confusion.

“I know.” You say with a slight smile. “Open the bigger one.”

He gently opened the second box.

“A plane ticket?”

“Look closer.”

“No way.”

“Wait what?” Luke questions. “What’d you get?”

“You’re coming to Jersey?” He looks at you with tears in his eyes.

“We’re on the same flight out of Detroit tomorrow night.” You said with a huge grin on your face. “I also talked with Nico and got it arranged for me to go on your next roadie.”

“I love you so much.” He pulled you closer to him.

“There’s one more.” You mentioned to him.

Jack opened the last gift, a letter addressed to you.

“Dear Y/N,” Jack read. “The Rutgers University Admissions is pleased to offer you admission as a transfer student for Spring 2020.”

Jack said nothing as he picked you up and spun you around.

“I didn’t think it was possible to love you more.” He said, tears streaming down his face.

“Are you happy?” Ellen asked her son.

“The happiest.” He said pulling you in for a kiss. “Now my present for you is going to look silly.”

“It could never.” You replied.

He handed you a long, slender gift, the kind of gift that was most likely expensive and either silver or gold.

You gingerly tore the paper exposing a black velvet box. You looked towards Jack, who still hadn’t stopped grinning, and he gestured to keep going.

Inside the box was a silver chain with a few pendants. One was a dainty compass, another a J, and a small disc that read “No Matter Where.”

“Jack it’s gorgeous.” You smiled, feeling your eyes fill with tears.

“You like it?”

“Jack, I love it.” You smiled more, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

When all of the gifts were unwrapped, it was just you and Jack left in the living room.

“So you’re really coming to Jersey?” He asks, obviously still in shock.

“I’ll be moving in for the spring semester, yeah.” You smiled.

“I can’t believe you.” He smiled back.

“I love you so much.” You pulled Jack in for a kiss.

“To the moon and back.”

[colitisandme]

Yesterday was a bad day. With IBD, some days are bad days, some really bad days and yesterday was the equivalent of your shoes getting stolen whilst having a nap on a train having to leave the station to find it’s raining, stepping on poo, then have a driver throw a rancid burrito at you out of a car window whilst pigeons watch nearby. Now you are being chased by pigeons who think you resemble a wet, walking, snack. So you run bare foot and screaming through a group of people, Knocking them over like bowling pins. You run and run, still screaming, trying in vain to get back to your house, only to find you’ve dropped your keys somewhere between stepping in poo, losing your shoes and getting attacked by wild hungry birds. And so wet, bitten and smelly, you sit on your doorstep, looking like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards, until a nice neighbour invites you in to their house. Once inside, he makes you stand on kitchen roll in his hallway, and shoes the rest of the family away from you into the lounge, until the locksmith comes out and lets your shivery, embarrassed, bedraggled self into your own house, eyeing you up with a mixture of suspicion and horror as you squelch up the stairs. Yep yesterday was like that.

It started out okay. I hadn’t slept for the 3rd night in a row and so was starting to resemble something from ‘the night of the living dead.’ I fed our bunnies, who looked slightly alarmed when this swamp like creature appeared at their hutch door, and to show their disgust at my bedraggled, bloodshot eyed appearance, scuttled off into their bedroom area and did not re-appear until I filled up their food bowls. In the process of doing this and leaning down to give them some affection, I proceeded to fall over and nearly break my leg on one of their toys, which in turn, caused me to yell out loudly, scrabbling to keep myself upright. After I tried to gain my balance, they proceeded to thump at me in chorus for disturbing their peaceful breakfast time, ignore my cries of pain and rebuff my attempts to pacify them with pieces of dried fruit. I then hobbled back inside, groaning and cursing my need to make sure our bunnies were stimulated by making our shed into the equivalent of the ‘Toys R’Us bunny sanctuary’ proclaiming war and future destruction of all cardboard tunnels, fed our doggy guest then tried to start my day.

My body was being a D**k! A true arsehole. Firstly it spent the first hour convincing me I needed to go to the loo, (hadn’t been for 3 days) and so I spent that hour running backwards and forwards to my bathroom like I was on a travelator, sweating, swearing, grunting, in pain and nauseous before finally forcing myself to go. My poor bum was in tatters and my hands became red and sore because I had clenched my fists so hard, there were nail marks imbedded into my palm. The dog didn’t understand my pain, as I limped over to the freezer and put ice on my paws and just wanted strokes and belly rubs so I nursed my paws and stroked the dog, thankful she too didn’t love cardboard tunnels. As well as now dealing with leg injury and ice paws, I had been, for the past few days living with a bite on my arm, due to some demon insect deciding it would fuck up my week by taking a chunk out of my arm. This might not sound like much, but my immune system is shot and I am also really helpfully, allergic to the one bug that chewed on me, so it’s a big deal.

It picked on me when I was trying to be a good fur baby mum, and clean out my bunnies shed. He flew up out of the hay and sank his little insecty fangs into my poor unsuspecting flesh. Although bumpy and itchy, I put some cream on it, wrapped ice around my arm and hoped for the best. Well my arm ballooned. My whole left forearm resembled a cross between Popeye and the Michelin man. After rubbing my arm, then cursing myself for scratching myself into a stupor and declaring war on all things insecty and bitey, ( I never harm any animal including spiders, snails, bees wasps etc but I draw the line at fly’s and horseflys because they find me perfectly delicious) I instructed my husband to get me some hydrocortisone cream and I found some Anti itch cream nestled in my bag to slather all over it. But it was too late. I once watched a documentary which stated, that a bear will travel hundreds of miles to visit his favourite ‘scratching tree’ and I now understand the extroadinary travel time and distance he would go to, just to happily scratch himself for a few hours. I was so bloody itchy I was rubbing myself on anything to relieve that itch. Anything. And if anyone would have seen me, I would have looked demented with my tongue on one side, trying to rub my arm up and down the wooden beams in my house with a look on my face that resembled madness and sheer euphoria. Of course this was a mistake, and soon all the antihistamine coursed through my body and hundreds of hives had popped up, so I knew I just had to grit my teeth and wait it out. 3 days later, hair on end, sleepless, eyes wide, hungry and my bum in tatters I had lost a lot of my reserves.

You would think that my body, at this point, would take pity on me. Give me a cuddle, send me up to bed with a warm drink of peppermint and liquorice tea (god I miss hot chocolate) and shush me to sleep with the southing sounds of whale music, but no. It was mean and refused to comfort me or lull me to sleep using soft tones or the sounds of the sea. It really wanted to scream obscenities at me and serenade me with symphonies that sounded like the music was being played by an irate toddler who would use a combination of drums, violin and cymbals to piss me and my ears off. And so right at the moment I sat itchy, cold pawed, bruised and tattered, sore, hair on end, achey, with my eyes on stalks... I got my period. (Sorry to all the guys reading this)

The pain smacked into me like a freight train. An absolute punch to the gut and then reversed and slammed into my back to make doubly sure it really hurt me in my tender spots. Already in quite a lot of pain, It absolutely took my breath away. IBD makes me feel like my whole body is full of stones. I personally feel like I am never empty, and stones take up a lot of bloody room in an already swollen, angry, raw space that doesn’t appreciate more visitors. Yesterday the IBD was rampant. Now this. “NO COCKING WAY, “THERES NO MORE ROOM” I yelled out. “I AM FULL�� My body didn’t listen and ignored my screams and my protestations, and continued to fill the already cramped, raw, ragged and heavy space with what felt like shards of glass. So with itchy skin, clusters of hives all down my arm, sore hands, sore bum, sore stomach, bags under my eyes and now dealing with agonising pain searing throughout the lower half of my body, I lost it. I cried. I didn’t want to cry, because the sobs made my body hurt. But right at that moment I lost it. I hated my body. I didn’t understand why it was hurting me so much. I staggered to the kitchen, made myself a water bottle, got some water, and lay down. I knew I couldn’t get through this with meditation, I knew I couldn’t solve this with mindfulness and I couldn’t take painkillers. I just had to ride it out. It got to afternoon and I was in so much agony I couldn’t have a wash, cook or get myself upstairs and so I ate a banana to keep me going until the pain subsided.

It didn’t subside. It didn’t let up at all. Not for one millisecond. Every time I moved it felt like my whole body was being squeezed by a boa-constrictor, every time I breathed, I would cramp. Every time I took a small bite of banana or a sip of water, my whole body reacted with venomous anger. There was nothing I could do. Nothing except to wait, and stroke the Dog’s ears who laid next to me and looked at me with concerned and loving eyes.

My wonderful, caring husband came home and saw my sad blotchy face. He listened to me as I cursed IBD, my body, being a woman, nasty insects and the perils of bunny toys, wiped my tears, gave me a huge cuddle and helped me to have a shower. It hurt. Getting out of the shower hurt. Getting dried made me yell out in pain, putting fresh PJs on caused me pain. He then tucked me up, got me 3 water bottles, and put on Masterchef Australia whilst he sorted out dinner, bunnies and general household ness. (My Husband is awesome.)

The pain went on and on, like Dante’s seventh circle of hell. It was during this time I (mistakenly) put a post up on FB about what a shit day I was having. So because I have been out of work, I have spoke to a couple of at home type businesses for possible income ideas, and I couldn’t believe it but during my extreme pain episode, one messaged me privately, and started up a conversation trying to sell me their product. Now, I am hugely respectful of anyone trying to make a living online, from home or in any capacity, and had already had a few conversations with this particular lady explaining that I couldn’t afford her ‘start up package’ nor her products, and so when she messaged me again I was surprised.

Through the haze of my groin splitting pain, I again explained I couldn’t afford her high costs, and I thought that would stop the conversation but no, she pushed it. She was trying to use the fact I was in pain, discomfort and misery at that moment to get a ruddy sale. I was appalled. What the hell did she expect me to do or say? “Sure, I would love to gab away with you like gal pals while I cross my eyes, grind my teeth and chew my fist in pain due to an angry gremlin gnawing away on my intestines and womb! I would definitely love to hear about all the exact uses of wuffle dust, and how it will cure all my aches and pains as I try not to swear, vomit or hurl myself into the bathroom. No sodding problem. Let me just get my cocking credit card”... I couldn’t believe she used that moment to try and make me a customer. I got really angry. I couldn’t believe she would do that, in that way, at that time. I honestly truly was stunned that someone would try and take advantage of me like that and so, once I could focus through the pain, I told her so. I explained politely that what she did was wrong, how shitty it made me feel, and although I had huge respect for her and her product, I no longer wanted to have any contact with her. I then proceeded to erase her from my social media. I do not want to associate with anyone who would use someone’s vulnerability to get a sale. It’s disgusting.

It was way past midnight when most of the world was quiet and I had uttered every swear word I could think of, that my body finally relented to sleep. And as I staggered, exhausted upstairs, feeling used by my body, manipulated by people and generally hacked off at the world, I reached out to a few others who were also having a shit day. As we all experienced our own pain, we lifted each other up, laughed, chatted through tears and cursed our irrate and unco-operative bodies. Just before finally drifting off to sleep we all wholeheartedly agreed that sometimes, on days like this, there really aren’t enough swear words in the world to make the minute, the hour, the moment or day better, but yelling out or whispering through gritted teeth, the most creative and bizarre ones we could think of to ourselves, definitely helps.

[disneyphantomlover]

If you still feel write-y, I feel a need for a prompt where Brent and Rex play Bendy and the Ink Machine together. It's ludicrous. And if it's all just swearing and blank we stares, so be it!!

((BLESS YOU HALEY. BLESS YOU.))"Hey, Brent?""Hmm?" The Musician turned away from the stove in the kitchen, looking over the counter to his partner. "I'm almost done with dinner, Tin-Limbs. Everything alright?""The Boss just sent you a command on your device." Tin-Limbs, better known as Rex, was standing behind the couch, pointing to the laptop on the coffee table. "It doesn't look incredibly urgent, but..." He trailed off a little bit, bouncing both shoulders in a shrug. Brent rolled his eyes and let out a small sigh. "Yeah yeah. Gimme a minute so I don't burn your dinner. Don't need this place smelling like cooked blood." Turning back to the stove, Brent turned the burner down and stirred the mixture in the pan. To anyone else, he'd be fine saying "Just open it up and read it." But, Rex was still adjusting and learning. He had to be given literal instructions in a firm manner. So he said "You have my permission to open up the message and read it out loud for me.""Yes sir." He could hear the gentle clicks and taps from Rex's prosthetic hands as he used the keyboard. "....Boss says 'I just found this little gem that will come out in about three years. Thought you might find this incredibly interesting. It is on your computer's game system now.' End message. .......Boss, you play simulations on your device?""It's just Brent, Rex. And yeah. Sometimes." Simulations... Well. He didn't like first-person shooters or those war video games that were popular. But he could see them having been used in Rex's world for practical purposes... Now to translate that in layman terms.... "They're just called video games here. There's a few that are simulation based to help with fighting, but a majority of them are for problem-solving or testing reflexes. I'm more familiar with the later two." The vampire hummed in acknowledgment, and Brent turned off the stove. He kept stirring the concoction in the pan another minute or so before pouring it into a large mug. This was not his favorite thing to do, but! There had been no jobs recently, and he would rather not have Rex in the kitchen by himself. Didn't want to have an incident like the Toaster Explosion again. Pocketing his phone, he took the mug to the couch and sat down. "Okay. Let's see what Steam has for me..." ---------------------------------------------------------------It'd taken a little fine-tuning to get the damn game running, and he'd had to dig out an external mouse to attach, but the main menu was up. ....Not entirely sure what he expected, but a yellowed background and dripping black ink was not it. Neither was the chilling music that worked omniously with the visual. "'Bendy and the Ink Machine'? ...Interesting enough title, I guess." Rex leaned over slightly, eyeing a part of the menu screen. "...Why is there a red spatter on the corner there?"Brent had almost missed that. But he followed the directions of Rex's pointed finger, and saw just that. "...Well that's morbid." He scowled a little as he read over the chapter titles. "So we got 'Moving Pictures', 'The Old Song', and... 'Rise and Fall'. Can already tell which one I'll like. But, might as well start from the beginning..." Clicking on the Play button, Brent decided to make himself comfortable. "I wonder why the Boss wanted me to play a horror game." "This doesn't look like a horror simulation." "Horror isn't limited to gore, Tin-Limbs. .... Oh hey a letter. 'Dear Henry, It seems like a lifetime since we worked on cartoons together. 30 years really slips away, doesn't it?' Woooowwww. Okay. So it's a horror game involving cartoons.""You mean those expressive moving drawings?""Yeah. Hang on... 'visit old workshop'....'something I need to show you'... 'Your best pal, Joey Drew'. ....Original name." He rolled his eyes, but jumped slightly as the sound of a creaking door screeched through his laptop's speakers. Maybe it was his nature as a Musician, but he hadn't expected it to be that loud. He looked over at Rex, blinking once, then twice. "...You can watch me play through this, Tin Limbs. I don't mind. ... Hell, maybe you can help me figure out why Oleg wanted me to play this." "Okay si-...Brent." He sipped at his mug of hot blood and milk, licking his lips after the fact.--------------------------------------------------"...I guess I need to find the stuff to turn on this machine." Brent rolled his eyes as the absurd looking machine in front of his avatar. He started to walk down the hallways and look around. "They'll probably glow or something..." "What's that drawn thing in the corner? Looks like a... You-know-what." Brent smiled gently at Rex's choice of words; he had a genuine trigger with the word "demon". He was proud the vampire was trying his best. "Well... If I had to guess from the posters, that's Bendy. The mascot from the title." He flinched as a loud violin accompanied a cut-out appearing. Even Rex reeled back."...That wasn't there before.""Yep." He started to walk around the cut-out, and his face fell as he saw a morbid sight in the end of the hallway. "...Jesus Christ, what in the...?""Oh my god. Joey, what were you doing?""Valid question! What the fuck?? Rex, you seeing this?""Yes! ...What's the problem, it's just a body." "Rex, that's a Creation's body. Apparently of..." He leaned over slightly to read a poster. "Boris the Wolf." He let the camera look around, and he narrowed his eyes at the literal writing on the wall. "...Oleg has a sick sense of humor." Rex nervously sipped at his mug, eyeing Brent with some suspicion. "Why do you say that? It's just a game. A really tame one considering what we do for a living." "Yeah. But still a shitty thing to show an Author like me. I mean... Look at this. Who would do a thing like this to their own Creation?" ((To Be Continued. This is too good not to. But it is a little late and I need to write more.))

[sambinnie]

How are you? I wish I had something more incisive to greet you with, but the speed with which everything occurs means it would be irrelevant, distasteful or a viral punchline a few hours later. 

I have been to the cinema for the first time in six months, and continued my regular habit exactly where I’d left it by attending a first-thing-in-the-morning screening of Tenet with only one other person in the cinema, sitting miles away and also on their own (the only way to watch a film, I say). Fucking Tenet, though. I mean, I have really missed going to the cinema, partly because I love films and partly because there’s such a small-scale decadence to occasionally going there solo at 10am on a Tuesday morning, and those tiny pleasures (which, of course, are currently no longer tiny) are just the things to keep me going.

But the film. Oh god, the film. I wish… I wish I could collate my thoughts into something which doesn’t just rapidly descend into a frustrated scream. I wish success didn’t mean people couldn’t say no to you. I wish I liked Nolan’s Batman films, for a start, since so many seem to get so much from them (see also: Breaking Bad, Killing Eve and Line of Duty), but I’ve always found them silly, really dumbly written, and badly made — I can’t hear much of the dialogue, and the action sequences are frequently shot with so many cuts and movement that’s it’s impossible to follow, something George Miller could teach him about so beautifully — and they’re so bloody solemn. Gotham is a grim place, but there’s a boring pomposity in fetishing that one-note grimness, and Nolan has it nailed. Having a character genuinely laugh at something doesn’t render your film light-weight; it creates contrast, and human engagement, something these serious (but sci-fi)/serious (but fantasy)/serious (but adult man dresses in a cape) films too often lack, as if a strained, one-note way of speaking will cancel out the frivolous, actually enjoyable genre aspect of the film. 

That lack of humanity is shared by Tenet. After a certain point, I simply don’t care. Is the nuke going to explode before Batman can something something something? *shrugs* Will the Tenet team manage to stop some sort of bad thing happening? Yes? No? Don’t mind, fine either way. Is Tenet nice to look at? Yes, but in a sort of ��Christ, are we still holding up billionaire oligarch lifestyles as an aspirational thing at the moment?” very pre-2020 mood. Does it make sense? No, but that alone doesn’t mean it isn’t good — some great films, and some great Nolan films, take several goes to fully enjoy, and some are more enjoyable with every watch. Do I give a single fig about the outcome of the film or for any character after 20 minutes? Nope.

One major issue is that Nolan has made Inception, a masterpiece of film-making meta-commentary. How, once you’ve watched Cobb and Ariadne discuss the leaping-about way of conversations in films/dreams (stopping and starting in completely new locations) can you take the same thing seriously between Neil (Neil. Neil.) and The Protagonist? (I would like to see how many women read this screenplay along the way and just gave a small, inner sigh at the main character being named 'The Protagonist’.) As their boring expositional chats chop between pavement and public transport and plaza, one can’t help remembering how well Nolan previously pointed this out, yet has reverted to that self-conscious device to no benefit at all. It’s like he’s never seen his own films.

Similarly, the much-lauded aeroplane scene is completely without the necessary ingredient of tension because we’ve already been shown what happens, not just in other films but in this one, about fifteen minutes before. It’s like Bill & Ted promising they’d do whatever it was they needed right now, but in the future, and their momentary problem being solved by a loose sense of timey-wimey future self-ness. There’s nothing at stake at the airport, and between us being shown what happens and the scene beginning, nothing has happened for us to even hope the mission isn’t completed. It felt like the criminally underused Himesh Patel was in an instructional video for fuss-free plane-borrowing; compare it to the similar scene in Casino Royale (perhaps the only modern Bond film worth bothering with) and the flatness and mechanical nature of Tenet is all too apparent. The twists of the film, such as they are, are likewise foreseeable for even the least Pauline Kael among us. Who could it be under the mask? WHO COULD IT POSSIBLY BE? 

The Prestige, an earlier film of Nolan’s, is such a contrast to this that I’m stunned I didn’t watch it the moment I came home to clear my brain out. It’s smart, logical, moving, tense, engaging, and if there are plot holes (probably) I didn’t care because a) I really, really cared about what happened to each person, each of whom spoke and behaved like humans, not AI script-bots, and b) it gave this household a v useful shorthand nickname for anyone who wanted something one day but completely inexplicably changed their mind or denied it the next. I recommend it. I do not recommend Tenet. 

Of course, I feel guilty for caring so much about this, and writing about some fucking multi-squillion-dollar film with everything else happening. I am feeling extremely, crushingly ineffectual presently, and have completely come off all social media which from time to time would remind me of the efficacy of protest, of letter-writing and petition-signing and contacting one’s MP, so change feels hopeless and November’s blows seem inevitable. I am trying to knit my mind back together before then with small acts of body-work: cooking and running, drawing and swimming. I worry that I will drown in guilt and fear if I stop for a moment. It is pathetic, but I am still breathing, for now. 

My cynicism-filter is also at its finest mesh, because it cannot cope with the reality of our leaders and the UK’s political discourse: only small-fry stuff gets through, the Sali Hugheses and Jack Monroes, small-time fantasists who manipulate and virtue-signal to build lives of back-slapping consumerist celebration and Twitter Power Leader Boards. I’ve listened again to The Purity Spiral, and also to Desperately Seeking Sympathy, and wondered how many intelligent, kind-hearted people waste time supporting these innocent, victimised mini-Trumps just because they use the right buzzwords and also appear to hate the Tories. 

I wish I could give you some of the lights in my heart that keep me going — the occasional pure moon-eating delight of the people I live with — but here are more feasible treats instead.

Mike Birbiglia’s podcast Working It Out is a treasure, particularly the first episode with Ira Glass, which I think everyone who works in a creative field will listen to and wish they had an Ira Glass to critique their work. I like the idea of documenting works in progress, and not carrying any shame when things don’t work yet.

The Rose Matafeo episode of The Horne Section podcast, because I love her and I love stupid and brilliant songs. Several housemates have discovered Taskmaster too, which makes this a nice bridge.

Sarah & Duck, the BBC programme for tiny children. We never really used kids’ TV when they were little, but this now functions as a salve for when we’ve watched something truly terrifying like Poirot or a Marvel film, and besides the fact that Duck is absolutely fucking hilarious, the animation is staggeringly beautiful. The Islamic geometric patterns of the garden hedge; the soft blue-green hum of the “glow” section of the library, filled with lamps and luminescent books; the motes of dust caught in the sun-rays of Scarf Lady’s window. It’s a balm. 

Thanks to two housemates becoming great cooks over lockdown, I’ve rediscovered lots of my cookbooks and found 2015’s Simply Nigella to be a real corker. The rice with sprouts, chilli and pineapple, the drunken noodles and the Thai noodles with cinnamon and prawn are worth the entry fee alone. It’s quite chicken- and pomegranate seed-heavy, but even if you don’t like those, it’s extremely nice to be eating something that isn’t on our usual five-meal rota (and is also extremely delicious).

I was solo for some of the summer, and managed to watch a few excellent films, including BlacKkKlansman, The Peanut Butter Falcon and Love & Friendship. Cannot recommend these highly enough (*whispers* particularly the latter because it’s as painfully sharp as Austen should be, and we’d made the mistake of watching Emma. and I’m still so cross I’m not sure I’m ready to discuss everything that was wrong with it publicly yet).

I read Esther Williams’ memoir, The Million Dollar Mermaid. Perfect for anyone who loves that period of Hollywood, and full of juicy (as well as some pretty traumatic) episodes from the swimmer and actress’s amazing life. To give you a sense of it, chapter one is called “Esther Williams, Cary Grant, and LSD”. Super good. 

I hope you all keep well, pals x

[what-the-everloving-fuck]

We open the door to go out and smoke bc if we leave it open it's a problem, but it fucking chimes everytime it's opened and we're not trying to announce it bc the kids get nosey, and since it's zero degrees outside and 12:30 at night and PEOPLE KNOW WE SMOKE... She calls both of our phones and when we don't answer, opens the stairway door "Did you guys open the door?" Followed by ten minutes of "your package never came bc it went to California. Why did they send it to California? Those idiots can't they tell the difference? Well, ANYWAY, I guess you can call them tomorrow and figure it out" (the package is her name, her Amazon account, and she's off work, but she's gonna have him do it) He's been upstairs basically all day. She's gonna cook pot roast--"hey can you put it in the slow cooker and season it?" With what? "I don't care." Doesn't read the instructions for the rice cooker I bought for Christmas (bc all I ever hear is "I think i fucked up the rice" and they made rice 3 or 4 times since she opened it) I go to make rice with "oh you like white rice? Oh don't make it plain, season it" well FIRST OFF, there's no brown rice, I don't really like rice but would prefer brown but there isn't any. I didn't buy the fucking thing for me, I bought it for you since you COOK RICE ALL THE TIME but WON'T USE THE RICE COOKER I BOUGHT YOU, but damn if you can't return this other present for the full amount so I need to find that receipt today. But sure, I'll read the instructions and explain to you even though you won't listen or remember. Then she asks me if I'm cooking meat in the crock pot..... That she had him put in over an hour ago. No...... I've got rice in the rice cooker. When it's done "oh is it cooked? How does it taste? That was fast" I mean you could TRY DOING SOMETHING YOURSELF, even if it's taste testing something. They've been trying to watch this redbox movie for almost a week. The day they got it, basically the only day off before the weekend, she goes to get a friend to hang out with, but the family doesn't want to watch with him. She goes anyway. Now, a few days later, she wants Josh to start the movie even though his sister has been waiting to watch it, and she's now at work while Mom babysits the three kids. And she's arguing with Josh to start the movie anyway without Vanessa. It's like this woman LITERALLY needs him to be within arm's reach so she can just make him do stuff or so she can watch and critique. And talk shit about I do or don't cook, how I do, and that I'm basically probably just too different. We spent the weekend snowed in at a friends and we get back and he's like "well, I guess I'm home" after he gets called to shit left and right and grilled about what we did and we were probably accused of being drunk high all weekend in some snotty tone. We actually WERE drinking and smoking all weekend, yeah, but we cooked a lot of different food that didn't sit and go cold for an hour while people sat their phones, and then reheat/order pizza anyway after bitching about how there's no food. I don't like cooking here bc the kids don't eat bc they're constantly being fed candy, and the other two adults are super picky but won't cook for themselves. All they ever cook is fucking eggs, rice, beans and some bland or overcooked meat that they throw hot sauce on. And anytime I cook something different they act afraid to eat it, or like I cook weird shit, and if they try it and like it, they act surprised like "OMG it doesn't taste burnt rocks?!!!???!?!?? Omgwut" And then they're talking about moving bc they want to up the rent (bc that's what everyone does after a year lease), and Josh was like, "uh, she's probably going to move out by March. So don't count on her as a source of paying rent" Regardless of how they think I'm not doing enough of something, I need out, but I don't think they believed him bc they think all I do is whine and be negative for no reason, and am an incapable drug addict. Like they probably don't believe anything I've ever told them about living on my own or taking care of mooching, perfectly capable grown ass men who just wouldn't put in the effort after I solved most other issues. No, I just don't want to live in a house hold full of unruly children who aren't being raised so much as "let loose" or with people who won't respect others' privacy bc they feel they don't have to based on relationship dynamics and refuse to admit to being rude, inconsiderate, or wrong. Ever. Not even once. Not when they claimed I was a terrible mother bc I don't have my daughter, by the same person who drives around with three unstrapped carseats with children. Not when I'm considered a worthless piece of shit but yet you need me to stay home and babysit while you go out just bc you want to, not even bc you NEED to. Not when you are literally just looking to throw all your negative hatred on someone without actually caring about the repercussions. Like when I'm the drug addict, but I don't how to get a hold of said drug and the other son brought it into the house and starting talking shit when he was drunk, and he's a crazy, belligerent, will fight everyone at a snap, drunk. When he did it twice, but I still got blamed, but NOT EVEN TO MY FACE, you'd just talk shit to the person who brought me here, away from everything I had, to tell them I'm a terrible person for them. And not when I can hear some of it being said, and some of it they'll just start after picking a fight with Josh. Why would I stay in a house full of hateful, lying, problematically aggressive people? I'm a fucking hippie.