#i swing between hating and loving grad school every day

[zugmode]

working on a SOVIET space history thing (wow!! non-american history!!) for one of my finals this semester and oh my god. i could fucking kiss NASA archivists on the mouth. entire PDFs of books are available online. they have actual soviet resources. god bless the civilian space effort.

[ad1thi]

2020 fic recs!! [Part 2]

part 2 of my 2020 fic recs!! as before, ive limited this to five fics per month; and fics are ordered by the month they were published. This spans fandoms and ships, and hopefully you find something you like!! credit for the idea goes to @iam93percentstardust

***

July

this is the start: @capnwinghead

Clark and Bruce continue raising the Wayne children and encounter a number of challenges along the way.

great minds (love alike): @starklysteve

Steve’s eyes flicks down to Tony’s knees on the floor.

“Are you – are you proposing to me with my ring for you?” Steve asks incredulously, eyes wide and confused.

---

Or, Steve finds Tony’s ring for him, Tony finds Steve’s ring for him. Panic happens.

Marvels Unsolved: @iam93percentstardust

Marvels Unsolved was never supposed to be this popular. It started off as a novelty web-series about Tony trying to convince Bucky about the existence of the supernatural—he firmly believed that if science could turn Uncle Steve from an actual shrimp to the god of muscles, then magic had to be out there—and then they’d started talking about an unsolved crime from the early 20th century after filming an episode one day, forgetting that the camera was still rolling, and had ended up with enough footage to make a second episode about real crimes. They had stayed pretty unknown throughout that first season but then true crime podcasts had exploded in popularity and Unsolved along with them.

it’s a small world after all: @maguna-stxrk

“Great speech.”

Smiling at the compliment, Tony turns around. “Thank y—”

And nearly drops his champagne flute.

His world comes to a stop.

They had only spent a night together, but Tony would recognize those baby blues anywhere.

It’s Steve.

Steve from Tony’s London business trip. Or, as Rhodey has become accustomed to calling him—The Soulmate That Got Away.

you’re in my blood, you’re in my veins: @nethandrake

Tony always figured that if they ever were to break up, it would be like a blaze. Scorching and hot and all-too blinding. Intense like the two of them have always been.

Instead, they break up on a Tuesday, with the rain pelting the windowpane and the midnight silence stifling.

August

Five Times Danny said he’d marry Steve (plus one): @five-wow

Danny humphs. “Look, all I’m saying is, I think I’d probably have married you by now.”

“I’d marry you, too,” Steve says.

Or: An experiment in how many times you can say something before you have to put your money where your mouth is.

Family (You’ve Always Had It): @/SunnyQueen

A black Camaro and a scowling blond was not what Junior had been expecting.

“Hi, sir. You didn’t have to pick me up.”

The blond looked up from the screen on his phone and groaned, completely ignoring Junior's statement. “You are right, I didn't have to."

Ode To Yoga Pants: @riotfalling

OR the continued terrible mating dance of Bucky and Tony, AKA when betting on your friends stops being fun

Through The Years: @hawkbucks

Tony brings home Natasha one day, proclaiming her to be his new sister.

Natasha takes this all in stride.

The broken road that led me home to you: @just-fandomthings

A documented list of conversations between Steve and Danny via text and phone call following the events of 10x22 "Aloha." (Where, even thousands of miles apart, Steve and Danny can't go without talking to each other.)

September

someday, we’ll pass it on to you: @starklysteve

Steve smiles.

Reaching up, he flattens his hand against his son’s far smaller one, curling gently around it. “You wanna be like him?”

“Da!” Peter agrees again.

One year old, and you already know who’s the best of us, Steve pauses to reflect, all his fears chased away by a fierce pride. “Your Dad’s coming home real soon,” he promises, “you should tell him that.”

---------------

Or, five times Peter did the repulsor pose as a toddler

+ one time he used the repulsors as an adult

Classic Sci Fi: @notdoingsohot

Bucky wakes up to Steve telling him he's lost his memory, but not to panic, it'll only last a few days. Easier said than done when the last thing Bucky remembers is fighting Hydra with the Howlies in WWII.

He tries to make the most of it however, and there's this guy... Tony Stark. It's pretty clear the guy hates Bucky's guts, which is unfortunate because god damn is he a sight.

He tries to figure out what he did to wrong Stark, but everyone just tells him he doesn't want to know.

They were right.

Blooms in Frost: @/Diomedes

Tony coughs up his first petal on the sixth of July. He has been married to the love of his life for two years.

Bury a Hanahaki corpse in earth and it will beget the most beautiful garden. All that love, it is said, must go somewhere.

Hanahaki AU: Established relationship

------------------------------------------

A Single Thread of Gold: @lovelyirony

Rhodey doesn't believe in love at first sight or any of that cheesy shit. He just wants someone who is nice, dependable, and safe.

Tony Stark is Housing Service's little problem for the school year, and now he's stuck in Rhodey's room because he's exploded the last two dorm rooms he's been in and won't live off-campus.

high roller, place your bet: @machi-kun

“Would you kiss Stark for a hundred bucks?”

“I would pay a hundred bucks to kiss him.”

October

press my luck: @omg-just-peachy

But... Steve is almost ten years his junior, and he could be with just about anyone, looking and acting like he does. And then there’s the not so small fact of Tony’s name and net worth and the fact that, okay, Tony had paid for Steve’s grad school tuition, and now he’s worried Steve feels obligated to stay. Or something.

Or, Tony is a billionaire, Steve is a grad student, and they learn to let themselves be taken care of.

see it with the lights out: @starklysteve

Tony goes on a business trip, and he does not - not at all - get jealous of Dodger hogging his husband's chest, a territory otherwise known as Tony's pillow.

(or, Steve goes on an Instagram spree and Tony misses home)

adulthood is looking both ways before you cross the street and getting hit by an airplane: @starkslovemail

It was a perfect plan, if Peter did say so himself.

The Buy In: @dracusfyre

For the ImagineTonyandBucky prompt: Mafia AU with Tony as the Boss (except he's a really good one, making the streets safe, keeping drugs away from kids etc) and Bucky as the detective sent to go undercover to catch him out but ends up realizing he's actually doing more good than harm and they end up falling in love

trinkets of your affection: @starklysteve

Kissed him once for every year I loved him, Steve had written.

By that count, Steve owes him five more kisses now.

Tony traces the words, hands trembling, and tips back a shot of Howard's ancient whiskey. None of it burns anymore.

One day, he'll have lived more days without Steve than there are words in the diary.

For the first time since he'd woken with shrapnel in his chest, Tony fears the future.

----------

Or, five things Tony keeps to remember Steve by, and one thing Steve gives him to remember.

November

“Hey Tony”: @riotfalling

Steve points out that Bucky never calls Tony by his actual name. Bucky doesn’t believe him, until he does.

Remembering You is Hard to Do: @lovelyirony

“The future’s crazy, honey-bear.”

Jim looks up.

“Why do you call me that?”

“Call you what?”

“Honey-bear. It’s weird.”

“Inside joke we have,” Tony says, chest tightening. “We thought those couples that have the lovey-dovey nicknames were ridiculous.”

overheard your heartbeat (calling me yours): @starklysteve

"Tony - "

"I wish I could promise to come home this time," he feels the armor crawl back down his arm, continuing unnoticed over Steve's red gloves, then up the blue uniform as Tony fights to keep Steve's gaze firmly fixed on him.

The last eyes Tony might get to see, and he wants to be lost in them.

In the end, his entire life boils down a few simple things: "JARVIS, take care of him for me."

----------

Or, Tony overhears a phonecall where Steve proposes, a battle happens, and a paper ring settles some misunderstandings.

i (really, really, really, really, really, really) like you.: @nethandrake

For as long as Steve can remember, he's been crushing on Tony Stark. The thing is, he's pretty sure Tony doesn't know Steve exists. And how could he? Steve's scrawny and little. He's a nobody compared to Tony who's Mr Popular and the son of a billionaire.

Or at least he thought so until Tony swings by the bakery Steve's mother happens to own to enlist Steve's help in finding the perfect Valentine's Day card.

The perfect Valentine's Day card for someone who isn't Steve.

One Song (My Heart Keeps Singing): @iam93percentstardust

When Thor is old enough to understand what a Heartsong is, he goes to his mother to ask her why he can’t understand the language his is in. He listens as she tells him about the first soulmates who couldn't understand their Heartsong until the day they meet, excited by the thought of a grand adventure, one that will take him across the cosmos in search of his One.

He’ll search all the Nine Realms if he has to.

December

Swiping Right: @s-horne

“Ouch. Definitely a hard pass for that one?”

Steve startled at the sudden comment from the row of chairs behind him and turned around. He’d been passing the time in the airport lounge by swiping through Tinder and had gotten lost in his own world. It was almost jarring to be pulled away from the screen of hot men and back into reality where the PA was screeching and there was noise everywhere.

Adjusting to the difference, Steve frowned. Wait, he knew that face. Oh, shit… he knew that face.

“No, no, it’s fine,” the man said before Steve could get out anything other than an embarrassed sort of yelp. Waving his hand through the air, the stranger smiled ruefully. “I get it. It’s the beard, isn’t it? True be told, it was a weird winter choice that year and I knew it would come back to hurt me.”

Steve didn’t know what to say. He knew it must have shown on his face and could feel himself flushing, panicked and embarrassed all at once. What were the odds of swiping left on someone literally sat behind him?

set your flight path home (to me): @starklysteve 

Tony puts down his welding torch. “I’m building you a plane.”

Stepping carefully over the gears and tools scattered about, Rhodey slowly makes his way to him.

“And when did you become an expert on how to build a plane?”

“Last night,” Tony grins.

---------------

Tony builds a plane, and Rhodey teaches Tony how to fly it. Or he would be teaching Tony, if Tony didn't distract him so much.

I Want A Man With A Slow Hand: @thefourofswords

“Can I ask you a question?” he asked on their way to a crime scene, because no time like the present, and Danny believed in ripping off band-aids.

“Why not?” Steve replied, eyes on the road. “You’re gonna even if I say no.”

“What do you like in bed?”

*

Danny undertakes a very important mission to get Steve laid. For his health. Ahem.

same time next year: @omg-just-peachy

“I forgot to ask. When’s your flight home?” Steve asks, draping his arm over Tony’s shoulder and settling in against him.

Tony ignores the knot that forms in his chest at the idea of it, leaving Steve again for his own impersonal apartment, his piles of books and projects and the nights without sleep.

“Day after tomorrow.”

Steve huffs a little sigh, then brings his lips to Tony’s neck. “Well, we’ll have to make the most of it, won’t we?”

Or, four (4) Christmases with two (2) idiots who can't admit they're in love.

rearrange my heart (to fit your smile): @starklysteve

"You dare," Howard's chair makes an ugly noise as it scrapes against the stone floors, the chatter of the room shifting into hushed whispers and stolen glances. "I am your father and your King!"

"My King is my husband," Tony tips his chin up, defiant. "And I refuse to hear you suggest that my husband has been anything other than good to me."

Next to him, he feels Steve's shoulders stiffen in surprise.

Howard's fist slams loud on the table. "Your husband does not even love you!"

Tony jerks back, burned. He knows that. Knows that Steve did not marry him for love – does not need any reminder of the cold truth, of what he desperately yearns for and can't even hope to have – but the harshness of Howard's words was scalding, and Tony can't afford for this to go any further.

----------

Or, King Steven marries Prince Tony, Tony is pretty sure he shouldn't panic when he falls in love with his own husband, and Steve tries his very best not to cause diplomatic crises.

Keyword: try

[lovemesomesurveys]

Did you try the Unicorn Frappuccino when Starbucks had it, and if so, what did you think? No, I thought it looked cute, but I never got around to trying it.

Is your hair naturally more light, dark, or in-between? Dark. Does your hair have natural highlights in it? No. What was the last clothing store you shopped at? Online I was looking at at Shein, in person I went to Ross. Do you like your old phone better than your newest one? No.

What are three names you like that start with "Z"? Zadok, Zach, Zoey. What was the last thing you wore that was purple? Not sure exactly, but it’s been awhile. What are five things everyone else seems to like, but you hate? Sushi, seafood in general, alcohol, socializing and always having to be doing something, ha, and summertime. What were three trends from when you were in high school that you think were terrible? I don’t feel like thinking that far back. Would you rather have a snowball fight or water balloon fight? Not into either one. What grocery store do you shop at the most? We do our big grocery shopping trips at Walmart. What color was your first car? I haven’t had my first car; I don’t drive. Does your family support you in the pursuit of your dreams? I have a very supportive and encouraging family. What's one place you'd like to visit that you haven't yet? There’s so many places I’d love to visit that I haven’t yet. What is one medication that you take every day? My pain medication. When was the last time you wore make-up? Last June for my brother’s grad party. Do you own a cross necklace? No. I do want to get one. What are three things you wanted as a kid but never got? I don’t know, I’m very fotunate and blessed to have been provided what I needed and a lot of what I wanted.  What are three things you loved about your backyard as a kid? My swing set. How did you pick names for your imaginary friends when you were younger? I don’t know. What was your favorite class in high school? English and Spanish. What were your favorite mall stores when you were in high school? Hot Topic, Macy’s, JCP. What is the capital city in the state/province/region/whatever that you live in? Sacramento. Did you ever go to summer camp as a child? No. ^If yes, what were three things you loved about it? -- Do you make to-do lists? Yeah, quite often. Use three words to describe your bedroom. Small, clutter-y, random. Who was your favorite celebrity when you were a kid? The big 90s stars, basically. Do you currently have a crush? No. It’s been like 5 years since I’ve had romantic feelings for someone. What’s that even feel like I don’t remember. What was one thing you weren't allowed to wear in high school, that you wanted to wear? My parents were reluctant about me wearing me eyeliner at first. They didn’t want it too heavy. They allowed me to wear it, though. What does it look like outside right now? It looks sunny. It’s 73 F right now, which is kinda warm. What is your favorite outdoor temperature? I prefer below 70s, but I can handle that over upper 70s and above that’s for sure. What's the highest fever you've ever had? Like 101.  Do you prefer llamas, penguins, or owls? Owls, I guess. Are you allergic to any foods? Tangerines. What are you severely allergic to, if anything? Nothing severely. What was the last store in your town that permanently closed (that you know of)? Hmm. I’m blanking at the moment. Where do you find new music? For a bit it was Tiktok back when I was obsessed with it during like the first year of the pandemic. Otherwise, it was throug Spotify and what others I know were listening to. What's your favorite girl's name? I like seasonal/weather/nature related names, ha. Ya know, names like Autumn, Winter, Skylar, Skye, Oceana/Ocean, Rain. How old are you? 32 for 4 more months. Do you own a cross necklace? No. Do you own a moon necklace? No. What is the meaning of your name? ”Crowned” or something like that. Would you rather be a fairy or a mermaid? Fairy. What makes your heart soar? Feel good, heart warming stories. What are three things that make you feel alive? I haven’t felt alive in a long time.

[sweetness47]

Fixing His Regret

Pairing Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1731

Warnings: not many, sex scene, mentions of losing a loved one, being widowed while pregnant, pining, I think there might be one or two swear words? Rated 18+ just in case

This is for @idreamofplaid and her They Belong To Us Now challenge

Prompt #30: “Stay here tonight.” (paired with) Time travel/fix it

Also for SPN Fluff Bingo 2021 square: Childhood sweethearts

And for SPN Kink Bingo 2021 square: Saran Wrap

📷

Dean smiled down from heaven as he watched Sam have a family and enjoy life. It was what he always wanted for his brother. Truth be told, it was what he’d always wished for himself, but the one person he’d wanted for that role was the one person he’d run from long ago.

YN had been one of his friends growing up. Even with all the shit that had stormed through his life, she was the one thing that always kept him going. When his dad would drag them all over, he always wrote to her, and she would write back. When they were close enough to visit in person, she would often keep him company while he was watching Sam.

He'd run because she’d confessed to having feelings for him one night. They were 16. Instead of coming clean and confessing he was in love with her, he’d turned and run away. He stopped communicating with her. Stopped writing to her. All because he was afraid of his feelings. He was afraid that he would make her a widow from hunting. That was no life for someone as amazing as YN. She deserved better. She deserved stability. Marriage to a hunter wouldn’t give her that. She was better off without him. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

But he always thought about her. About the hurt look on her face when he’d walked away from her confession. He could clearly remember the tears pooling in her eyes, and for one second his resolve nearly crumbled. But he maintained that he was doing the right thing, and shut the door on that part of his life forever.

That time he’d tried playing house with Lisa, when Sam had died, it was ok. He filled the emptiness that Sam’s death had left in his chest, but often he wished he’d been able to find YN, beg for her forgiveness, praying that she wasn’t married to someone else.

But he never pursued her. He’d hurt her. He hated himself for destroying her heart like that.

“What are you thinking about Dean?”

Jack’s voice startled Dean. He jumped, then relaxed when he saw Jack approach. “A girl I once knew. She was amazing. Smart, funny, talented, and one of the few friends I had growing up.”

Jack was intrigued. “What happened to her?”

Dean hung his head in shame. “I walked away from her confession of love. I didn’t want her wrapped up in the life of a hunter.”

“Did you tell her that? Did you even ask her if that was a deal breaker? Or did you just assume she was better off.”

Jack’s words stopped Dean in his thoughts. He really hadn’t asked YN how she felt. She knew what his dad did, she’d always known since the first day. But she was too good for this life. She deserved better, didn’t she? He’d done the right thing when he’d walked away, right?

Jack shook his head. “You didn’t ask her. Do you want that chance back? I can give you a second chance Dean. If you want it.”

Dean’s jaw dropped at Jack’s offer. “Seriously?”

Jack nodded.

Dean thought about it. How many times had he wished for a second chance? How many times had he wished he could go back and change that moment? Too many to count, that’s for certain.

“Do it.” Dean turned to Jack, who nodded again, and snapped his fingers.

**

Dean blinked, and as his eyesight adjusted, he found himself at a local diner he frequented a lot as a teenager, especially with YN, who happened to be sitting across from him. He remembered this day. It was the day before her confession to him.

He promised himself that this time, no matter what, he was not walking away. He was determined to stay, to keep her close, to cherish every moment he had with YN. She had been his world, and he would be an idiot to let her go a second time.

So the next evening, when she confessed she had feelings for him, he took her in his arms and admitted, “I love you too YN. A lot more than I ever thought possible.”

That was the moment they shared their first kiss. They became near inseparable after that night. When Dean dropped out of high school to keep his focus on Sam, he made sure to keep YN a part of their lives. She asked him to prom, stating there was no one else she’d rather spend the night with, and he happily said yes.

The first time they spent the night together, it was new for both of them, both physically, and mentally. Their relationship hit new heights. Dean never pushed YN, always the perfect gentleman. It was she who made the suggestion for him to stay.

The night of prom, after the dancing and celebrating were done, Dean had taken her home, like he always did after a date. She invited him in, and he accepted. Her dad was out for the weekend, having accompanied Dean’s dad on a hunt, so it was just the two of them. They cuddled and kissed, till the wee hours of the morning.

When Dean suggested he call it a night, and stood to leave, she caught his arm. “Dean? Don’t go. Stay here tonight. With me.”

Dean swallowed hard. “You sure?” he rasped.

YN nodded. “Definitely.”

Not another word was spoken as she took his hand and lead him to her bedroom. The frilly pink décor hardly occupied his thoughts. Instead, he moved to undress her, his hands shaking, mouth suddenly dry. YN was mirroring his movements, her own nerves showing as she fumbled with his clothes. When they finally free of the offending garments, he let out a low whistle.

“Beautiful.” He whispered.

YN blushed. “Back at ya.” She countered.

Dean leaned down to kiss her then, the passion burning through them as they slowly began to explore each other. Dean’s hand travelled to the sweet junction between her legs, and growled at the wetness he found. YN got a similar reaction when her hand brushed up against his rock solid erection.

Tumbling on to the bed, Dean began stroking YN’s core. She bucked and moaned as his fingers worked her sensitive nub, then slipped inside her tight channel. Her cries echoed off the walls as her walls clamped down on his fingers, her juices spilling free, coating the bed and his hand.

He moved over her. That’s when they both wondered the same thing. Protection.

“Do you have a condom?” she asked.

Dean shook his head. Shit!

YN’s face lit up suddenly. “Wait here. I have an idea.”

She raced out of the room, only to return moments later with a roll of Saran Wrap from the kitchen. Dean chuckled. “Nice.”

She tore off a piece and brazenly took initiative, wrapping his thick cock in the plastic. Then she was back on the bed, and Dean brought her legs up to wrap around his waist. She felt the blunt head as it pushed and stretched at her slick channel, past the virgin barrier, filling her. He kissed away her tears that silently fell, then he stilled, letting her get used to the feeling of him being inside.

When he moved again, she gasped as she came hard, the sensations overwhelming her. Dean thrust in and out, consuming and owning every part of her, body and soul, vowing that from this moment on, she was his, and only his.

The night and most of the next morning, Dean and YN explored their newfound status, making good use of the plastic wrap. They both giggled at the half gone roll as they finally placed it back into the kitchen pantry.

The following week, they spent near every moment together they could find, mostly because they couldn’t get enough of each other. For a graduation present, Dean managed to acquire the most stunning engagement ring, and presented it to her during the grad dinner. People cheered and clapped for the couple, but most importantly, YN’s father and Dean’s dad approved.

They married the following year. YN hunted with the boys, lived with them (obviously), sharing in their triumphs and their sorrows.

Their third year of marriage, YN presented Dean with a gift, their first child, a revelation she’d made known on Father’s day. It was the only child they chose to bring into the world before it was righted again by the brothers, and Jack.

Shortly after that day, YN found herself with child again. Her son was 12 now, and she was thrilled with the idea of surprising him again.

But that day never came.

YN was found herself widowed, and pregnant, after losing the love of her life in what should have been an easy outing for the boys. Sam and YN hugged and cried, as did John, Dean’s son, and made sure to give him a proper funeral fitting for a hunter.

Sam filled in as a male role model for John, while also finding love for himself. YN’s children, and Sam’s, were good friends as well as cousins.

Sam outlived YN by two years. He was there to keep her company when her son and daughter couldn’t. But the entire family were present when YN took her final breath. Both her son and daughter told her it was ok, that she could go and finally be with Dean.

When Dean saw his YN standing on the bridge, he ran to her and picked her up into his arms, swinging her around and showering her with kisses and tears. He praised her over and over about how well she’d done raising John and Mary, but more important, he let her know how happy he was to have her to hold again.

When Dean saw Jack standing there, looking at the two embracing, Dean smiled and hugged Jack, thanking him for giving him his heart back.

Jack just smiled and faded away, leaving the lovebirds to do some serious catching up.

@idreamofplaid @akshi8278 @drkcnry67 @lyarr24

[babyleclerc]

Tequila Sunrise

Pairings: Chris Evans x Fem Reader

Style: One-Shot

Request?: No, but 100% inspired by that stupid Shawn Mendes/Camila Cabello song I will never get out of my head

Warnings: Language. Smut. Unprotected sex (woops, wrap it before you tap it, kids). NSFW. Slight dom!Chris.

Word count: 4.5K 

Summary: You’ve known Chris since you were twelve. He’s always been a constant for you, never a romantic interest. But will the summer heatwave, humidity and pool time get to your head and change the way you feel about each other? Includes Anthony Mackie!

A/N: Holy shit, you guys. I’ve been working on this one all week. I won’t lie, I’m attached to this one and really hope you guys like it. :3 I’m considering doing a series tied to this -- more of what happens with Reader/Chris & potentially with Ava (bc I love her personality and modeled her off Blake Lively, if you couldn’t tell). If you liked this/would be interested in reading more in this world please comment and let me know!! Your support helps me write :))

This story truly feels like my baby so please do leave it some love/review if you liked it. Sorry if the smut sucked I hate writing it but felt like it was essential to the story jfdlakflds;akf;dsaf. Don’t hate me. ALSO, huge thank you to my #1 @deartomhardy. She helped me through this in so many ways. Hyped me up when parts of this fic made me sweaty, yelled at me when I whined about the smut. Supported me literally through it all. I love u my baby angel. <3 (Gif not mine!)

You say we’re just friends,

But friends don’t know the way you taste.

‘Cause you know it’s been a long time coming,

Don’t you let me fall.

It was hotter than all hell, and you were starting to get sick of the dry heat that was coursing it’s way through the city the past few days. Your hometown used to be so enjoyable; better weather, less traffic, less people, less lines, less noise. Now, everything was popular - and not in a cute way. The donut shop down the street you had been going to since you were five was now considered a collectible. You saw tourists at the airport with the stupid blue boxes everywhere. The quaint coffee shop that was next to a questionable Chinese restaurant had now multiplied where you could find one on almost every street corner. Even down to the people - one in particular - who used to just be a regular Joe Schmoe was now a celebrity in his (also your) hometown. Wild.

“Find any hotties out there?” You turned your head to the edge of the pool to peer through your circular sunglasses at the voice. Mackie was leaned against the cool tiles surrounding the edge of the pool, the bottom of his body enveloped in water. He turned to look at Chris who had just entered the gated pool area.

“I just went to get some beers, Mack. Chill.” Chris replied, and you couldn’t help the small smile that formed on your lips at his response.

Local-theatre-geek-turned-celebrity did have its perks, though. For one, you were able to enjoy a private pool on a 97 degree day, well, privately. Chris’s summer home was nothing short of a resort; food at any and all hours of the day, a pool, hot tub, and theater room. The best part about the pool was that there were no kids screaming and running around, wreaking havoc. You had a barbecue all to yourself, you could blast music and no one would complain. Plus, you found yourself suddenly surrounded by far better and more interesting company.

You and Chris had always been close. That was clear to everyone around you. You went to his premieres, supported him on Broadway, stayed up with him late into the night over the phone when his anxiety got the best of him, and he was a full Country away from you. Assured him that he would have the family he’s always wanted one day. And he supported you through all your endeavors. Helped you pay your way through grad school (I have so much money, Y/N, I literally don’t know what to do with it. Let me do something good for you, just this once he’d said to you late that night on the floor of your college dorm). Listened to you when you ranted about your parents and how the planet alignment was throwing off your mood. Was a shoulder to cry on when you went through breakups. There were no secrets between you, and there was no drama.

You knew this was because the only rule you had with Chris was the one that had stood the test of time: no sex. Period. No matter how drunk you got in the college dorms or at Marvel premieres. Even if you didn’t have someone to kiss at midnight on New Year’s Eve. Even if you were vulnerable, heart aching for some affection and non-romantic sex after your ex cheated on you. Even if you were just plain horny. No. Sex. Your 20+ year friendship had lasted this long because one person in the relationship had always stood that ground no matter the circumstances. And for that, you were so thankful. Thankful for the lack of complications and strings; thankful you had someone in your life you could be you around. It was a rarity these days.

“Beer?” Said friend asked you, sunglasses adorned his tanning face. You looked up from Mackie and nodded, stretching out a hand to reach for the refreshing drink Chris was offering your way.

“Please,” You respond, waiting for Chris to pad his way over to you across the massive outdoor patio.

Had Chris not had his sunglasses on, you would have noticed the way he was eyeing your outstretched body, clad only in a thin, navy blue bikini on the poolside chair. Your bottoms hugged your hips as if made just for you; your tousled hair touching just beneath your shoulders; stray strands innocently snuggled beneath your breasts.

He took a breath, willing himself to look away as he handed you the cool drink. You noticed the way his obliques twitched with his arm movement, and how massive his biceps were after coming off of Endgame. You had, of course, noticed your best friend’s looks before - you weren’t blind - but the heat was making you see him in a different light. You took a swig of your beer, hoping the distraction would take you away from the way a bead of sweat was falling just along his torso towards the top of his swim trunks...

“I’d love one, Chris, thanks for asking.” Your best friend, Ava, spoke out next to you.

“Did you have to bring her?” Chris teased, grabbing another beer and gently tossing it towards Ava, who lay sprawled out on a lounge chair next to you in a stunning red one piece that hugged her cleavage just right.

Ava was the quintessential best friend whose kindness and selflessness made up for the fact that any woman next to her would otherwise feel inadequate.

She had long, slender legs, carved after years of soccer, tennis, biking, and basically any sport she could get her hands on. The constant need for an adrenaline rush made her tanned skin stay year-round, which was accompanied by a moderate four pack, large natural breasts, and wavy, thick blonde hair that always fell just right. Add her bright emerald eyes and a contagious laugh that lit up any room, and she was a heartbreaker to any man that was lucky enough to be in the same room as her.

But Ava didn’t care about that stuff, and that’s what made her so special. She was selfless. She put everyone else’s needs above her own, and had kindness oozing out of her, no matter the circumstances. She went to Mexico on a UNICEF trip on a whim after reading an article about children in need on a random Tuesday morning. She put her younger brother through medical school when both of her parents passed away unexpectedly (still a mystery to everyone else how she ever managed it). She was a perfect blend of compassion and enthusiasm that attracted men who wanted to get in bed with her and women who wanted to be associated with her. And it was effortless; as if it came to her like breathing.

“They’re kind of a package deal, those two.” Mackie piped up from the pool, grinning as he unashamedly drank Ava in. He had been trying to get with her all summer, but Ava stood her ground. She wasn’t one for summer flings.

But Chris knew this already; in fact it was Ava and Chris’s friendship that had gotten you to know Chris to begin with. Your mom had forced you into 6th grade soccer (hoping you would show some sort of athletic talent in your childhood) where you had met Ava on the very first day. Chris had been on the boys team at your middle school, and Ava being, well, Ava, had already made friends with the entire team within days. Your practices were on separate fields, separated only by a goal post but always ended at the same time. You would frequently all walk home together after practice, stopping for a smoothie, donuts, or ice cream along the way depending on the weather and talking about everything under the sun. Those walks were the reason you stuck with soccer for all those years (sorry, Mom).

“I already know what you’re going to say,” Ava started, lowering her voice and leaning towards you so the boys couldn’t hear. “But if I didn’t know any better, I’d say a certain someone was checking you out today.”

You rolled your eyes, but felt your heart skip a beat at the insinuation. “Don’t go starting shit, Ave. He’s seen me in a bikini a million times.”

“Yeah, and you’ve seen him shirtless a million times, too, and yet here you are gawking at him like he’s some Sports Illustrated model.”

“Am not!” You laughed, taking a drink of your beer. You noticed the way Chris’s eyebrows raised at the sound of you from across the patio; he was always in tune with you even from a thousand miles away.

“Prove it.” Ava deadpanned, swinging her legs over her chair to sit up and face you.

“What?” You asked, exhausted by your best friend’s antics.

“Prove it.” She repeated, setting her beer down on the cement. “If it’s no big deal, and you feel the same way about him you always have and nothing’s changed-” She used air quotations, referring to the thousands of conversations you’d had about Chris since you were both back visiting your hometown and hanging out with Ava, “-then swimming and playing around in the pool should be no big deal. Just another swim with your best buds.”

She had a wicked grin on her face, and you knew you were in trouble. When Ava set her mind to something, she always saw it through. No matter what.

“Please don’t do this.” You pouted, though your best friend was already standing, waiting to make her move. The pitied look on your face didn’t fool her, and you found she was ignoring you as she dramatically fanned herself, heading towards the pool.

“It’s getting a bit toasty. I think I’ll take a dip to cool off.” She announced, “Y/N, you coming?”

“I think I’m good, thanks.” You glared at her, unamused. She shot you a wink in response.

“Man, I was really hoping we could chicken fight. Evans!” Chris jumped at the sudden inclusion from the loud blonde. “You in?”

He looked up from the edge of the pool where he had been leaning against one of the railings. Him and Mackie had been discussing some latest sports announcement at length, since you had been too bored earlier to listen out at lunch.

“Mhm?” Chris asked, clearly not paying attention to Ava’s antics and shooting a look over to the both of you. You noticed the beer in his hand was nearly empty.

“Chicken fight!” Ava said enthusiastically, “Me ‘n Mack vs you two losers.”

“Alright!” Mackie shouted happily, “Now things are getting interesting. Finally.”

Chris sighed, not near excited for the fight as the other two. “You in, partner?”

“I guess.” You groaned, knowing you had no way out of both Anthony and Ava’s persistence. You pulled yourself up off the chair and stood, stretching and rolling your neck, which had been stiff from the CrossFit class Ava had forced you to earlier in the week. Your muscles still ached from the fifty minute torture session you cursed your best friend all the way through, and though you’d never admit it - a dip in the pool sounded so refreshing after nearly 45 minutes in the heat.

Chris’s eyes never left you, or the way your body was glistening in the sunlight. The summer heat was leaving your cheeks just flushed, and he noticed how the thin swim material hugged your plump ass seductively. You were oblivious. Oblivious to the beauty and perfection Chris saw in you, how your right dimple surfaced when you laughed, and your eyelashes fluttered when you slept deeply. He felt a small pang of jealousy in his gut at the thought of all the guys who had seen you that way, and wondered if they noticed all those things about you that he did.

Throughout high school and through adulthood, people had always assumed Chris was dating Ava. Whether it was friends, family, or tabloids - people always gushed over what a “beautiful couple” he and Ava made. Maybe it was because of the stark blond hair, or maybe that she was almost taller than Chris, and they appeared to be “perfectly matched”. To Chris, she was just Ava. A close, and dear friend, but no one he would ever be romantically interested in. 

She wasn’t you.

--- 

Much to your annoyance (and to Ava’s pleasure), chicken fighting with Chris had been just as awkward as you had expected. You were acutely aware of every touch - the way his strong hands gripped your thighs when you were straddled on top of his shoulders, desperately trying to shove your best friend off Anthony’s. She was stronger than you; that much was obvious. But having Chris at the base gave you an edge, and you ended up winning more than the other pair thanks to his cheating swipes at Mackie from under the water.

While the game was innocent enough, you heart drummed loudly in your chest every time his skin made contact with yours. Several times as you fell, shoved off by Ava’s very aggressive pushes, you’d feel Chris’s strong arms envelope you, laughing and crashing into the water with you. His arm stayed wrapped around your torso, holding you easily against his hip as you pushed up for air. Water droplets danced along your shoulders as you laughed, easily wrapping your legs around Chris as an excuse for support.

Finally, after several hours of Marco/Polo, ring tossing, and shark and minnows, Anthony and Ava had tired themselves out and retired to their respective homes. You and Chris had moved to the hot tub, tucked deep into the corner of the house, where you could still see the stars. The heatwave had finally burnt off, and you felt a cool breeze rolling through the property, sending a slight shiver down your spine. You leaned your head back onto the cool, diamond tiles that lined the tub, your legs peacefully resting on Chris’s lap across from you as the jets made water bubbles all around you. You sighed, blissfully happy - nothing was better than a long, warm day at the pool with your best friends.

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” Chris asked softly. His fingers danced across your legs like a whisper, his warm blues matching the color of the water just beneath his sturdy chest. 

“I’ve just missed this,” You reply, raising your eyes to meet his. “Life should always be this simple.”

“It can be.” Chris retaliated, thumb now making small circles just above your ankle. You smiled softly.

“Sometimes. But other times I remember that there’s reality, and we have to work and pay bills and like... be an adult.” You sighed again, “It’s just not the same as...” You trailed off, not having the balls to finish your sentence. You awkwardly broke eye contact with him, looking down at your hands in the water.

“Not the same as what?” He pressed, hand now gripping your ankle gently. He tugged just enough to force you to make eye contact with him again. 

“Real life just isn’t the same as being here with you,” You finished out awkwardly. This was uncharted territory - you’d never talked about this kind of stuff with Chris. You were always just friends, and that was the extent of it. Nothing more; and there was never really an opportunity to be more than that because both of you had never let it. 

But now... now he was here. And he was so... perfect. And caring. And kind. And he listened to your ideas, beyond just wanting to get into your pants. And he knew you so intimately, it was hard to think about being with anyone else. It made you wonder if all of your past relationships had failed for a reason, maybe there was someone else you were supposed to be with, and he had been right in front of you this entire time?

Chris tugged on your leg, a little stronger this time, willing you towards him as the water bounced between you guys softly. He was closing the gap between the both of you, but the pace in which he was taking was painfully slow. You felt every second, as if it had been slowed down five times, as you inched towards him slowly.

“Chris, I...” You whispered, as his hands enveloped you, gripping your waist and maneuvering you so that you straddled his lap.

“What?” He asked breathlessly, drunk on your smell, and the way your ass was settling on his groin. His eyes still haven’t left yours, he’s testing you - daring you to be the one to pull away first. 

“I don’t trust myself right now.” You reply, eyes boring into his. Your face was millimeters away from his, and you so desperately wanted to reach out and taste him; know what it would feel like to kiss those soft, pink lips. 

“Just one kiss.” He breathed. His tone was more of a request than it was statement, he was begging you to give in just this once. You lifted your hands and rested them on the sides of his face, feeling his slight stubble against the palms of your hands.In the decades of knowing him, you had never been this close. You breathed in deeply, taking in his scent. You felt as though you were home. And although it was likely only seconds that passed by, it felt like it had been a million minutes all smashed into one, and you finally leaned in, closing the fraction of space between your lips.

And suddenly, you were falling. Falling so deep into Chris and your feelings it was indescribable. He tasted like a perfect blend of vanilla, honey and strawberries; likely from the massive bowl he had eaten just hours before. 

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you as close into him as he could. This was more than just one kiss, and both of you knew it. There was no going back now.

After a few breathy moments, Chris pulled back for air, immediately relocating his lips onto the crook of your neck, kissing every inch of your skin from your jawline down to your shoulder. Your skin felt as though it was on fire, and it had nothing to do with the temperature of the water. You leaned into him, a soft moan escaping your lips as you let your eyes flutter closed. His hands roamed up your spine, tugging at the spandex material that was barricading him from access to your breasts.

“Not here,” You murmured, letting your head fall against his shoulder. As warm and sexy as the hot tub was, you weren’t interested in your first time with Chris being messy and wet in his outdoor hot tub. Plus, the cool breeze was starting to give you goosebumps.

He pulled away from the hickey he was working on just above your right breast. “Hold onto my neck.” He said against your skin. Wrapping your legs around his waist he easily stood, carefully maneuvering the both of you out of the hot tub and towards one of the guest bedrooms just a few feet from the hot tub. All the while his lips continued his assault on any part of you that he could, stumbling in the dark towards the massive queen bed that was enveloped in snow white sheets.

A small giggle escaped from your lips as he tripped slightly, dropping you backwards and onto the soft mattress.

“Think that’s funny?” He asked, grinning as he took in the sight of you; eyes sparkling and hair wet and wild, soaking the cotton sheets beneath you. Nothing separated him from you other than your skimpy bikini, which he was determined to pull off within minutes of having you on the bed.

“I mean, it was a little dramatic,” You teased, reaching out to grab his left arm, and interlacing your fingers easily as he leaned over, hovering over top of you. No part of you were touching just yet, other than his hand in yours. “I do have working legs, ya know.”

“Well, yes, but where’s the fun in that?” He teased, allowing himself to settle on top of you easily. He was grinning from ear to ear, and you weren’t sure if it was your ego or the heat of the moment - but you could have sown you’d never seen him this happy.

“Are we really gonna do this?” You asked softly, reaching your hand to stroke the side of his face, your eyes searching his.

“Do you want to?” He asked, ever the gentleman. Your heart was ringing in your ears, aware of the hard erection Chris was sporting through his swim trunks. It pressed against your right thigh gently. You squirmed beneath him.

“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.” You murmured, and that was the final confirmation Chris needed to close the gap between you two once more.

And this time was different from the hot tub. In the water you were slow, deliberate, wanting every nerve in your body to feel him against you. This was different; he was hungry for you. His hands made quick work of your bikini top, tossing it onto the floor as your lips parted to make room for his tongue.

His right hand massaged your left breast, pinching and flicking your nipple every so often. The sensation made you moan, and you arched your back in response. You could feel your pussy throbbing for him, begging him to please you, touch you.

Needing air, you pulled away from him, placing kisses along his chin and down his jawline.

“Chris,” You moaned into his ear, slightly tugging on his long, wet hair as his thumb padded your tout nipple.

“Mhm,” You were quickly realizing that Chris was going to make you beg him for this one. After years and years of waiting, he wanted to hear exactly what you wanted him to do to you. He wasn’t going to give you an easy out. Not tonight anyway.

“Please,” You begged, as his right hand moved slowly, torturously from your breast and across your tummy, running a finger along your slit over top your bottoms.

“What do you want?” He asked, nose nuzzling your neck before biting you gently.

You groaned, annoyed at the teasing. “We’ve had twenty years of foreplay, Evans. You know what I want.”

He chuckled against your skin, palming your pussy in response.

“Don’t be a smartass.” He bit your earlobe gently, running his tongue along your neck. “All you have to do is ask.”

You weren’t used to such a dominant side of Chris, but the rate in which it was turning you on was unbelievable. He was confident and sexy in the bedroom - a side of him you weren’t used to seeing. It was a relief to feel like you were being taken care of, and that your needs were coming before his. Even if he was making you beg.

Deciding that being blunt was the only way to get what you want you pushed him away from your neck gently, meeting his warm blues. There was a quick beat.

“I want you to fuck me, Chris.” It was so vulgar you felt your cheeks go warm. But if Chris was turned on before, it was nothing like the look of desperation and hunger he had in his eyes now.

He shoved  his swim trunks off, freeing his cock that was standing at attention. You craned your neck to get a look, mouth practically watering at the sight. Chris yanked off your bottoms next and paused for a minute, drinking you in.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He breathed, his hands running down your sides. His hand stopped just above your folds, locating your wild eyes and watching your face as he slipped in one, two, then three fingers, testing your readiness.

You hissed, writhing at the feeling and pulled at the sheets in a death grip. After a few pumps he pulled out of you, but not after sliding his index finger once across your clit. The feeling made you shutter, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

He aligned himself, pausing to soak you in. After all these years of wondering, wishing, hoping; you were all his. He didn’t have to worry about anybody or anything else. You were here, and this was perfect.

Your eyes fluttered open, wondering what the hesitation was. You knew immediately he was silently asking for permission one more time. Once you crossed this line, there was no going back. Your hand found his and you intertwined your fingers once more.

“I want this.” You whispered reassuringly.

That was the confirmation Chris needed to settle himself above you, and slide into your pussy slowly. Inch by inch you felt yourself filled up by his impressive length, and you squeezed his hand, moaning loudly.

“Jesus,” He moaned, allowing your body to adjust before beginning to fuck you slowly. “So wet.”

His mouth latched onto one your breasts, licking and nipping at your sensitive nipple as he began slamming into you with more speed. His thumb was still making fast work of your clit, and the triple combination was making it hard for you to not cum quickly.

“Chris,” You breathed, reveling in the way his cock felt inside of you. You bucked your hips hoping to allow him to penetrate you deeper.

“So absolutely perfect.” Chris kept murmuring against your skin, over and over as he kissed, licked, and squeezed every inch of you he could. He picked up the pace, feeling your walls tightening around his cock. You were dangerously close to release.

You tried to form words but couldn’t think coherently. Everything was a blur, and every nerve was on edge as you felt yourself inching quickly toward orgasm. One more thrust from Chris and you let go, crying out as your walls clenched down on his cock without mercy.

Squeezing your breast, he found your mouth and kissed you as if his life depended on it. After a few more thrusts, he, too, let out a loud groan as you felt him finish inside you.

Still seeing stars you blinked a few times, your brain trying to catch up to the scene unfolding in front of you. You had just had sex with Chris Evans. Best friend of over 20 years. Man you shared every intimate secret with. He’s seen you naked. Touched you everywhere. Came inside you. Holy shit.

Chris was still lost in his orgasm, panting slightly. He pulled out of you, rolling over to his side.

“Wow,” He breathed. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “That was…”

“Amazing?” You offered, snuggling into his chest and letting a hand dance along his skin. Your heart still hadn’t recovered from the previous cardio session, and you could feel Chris’s still racing also.

“I was gonna say mind blowing.” His chest rippled in your hand from a laugh. “But amazing works too.”

Fin.

---

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rating: G fandom: Steven Universe prompt: It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time warnings: None Apply word count: 2.3k requester: @koffiepop​

Apple Farms and Missed Calls

Connie has a great idea.

Set between the episodes "Growing Pains" and "Mr. Universe,” but is absolutely NOT canon compliant.

This oneshot features Connverse, mutual bonding over purposelessness, and also, their respective relationships with their parents. Enjoy!

-

It’s Connie’s idea. Which, really, only makes it seem like a fantastic idea, because she’s usually the one to talk him down from this kind of thing.

“Let’s run away,” she says with complete sincerity. “Let’s get on a bus and not look back.”

Steven turns to face her, startled. She isn’t looking at him. She is sitting on his balcony with a soft look on her face as she watches the moonrise, and he’s watering a few of his potted plants that he’s kept outside the greenhouse.

Since the greenhouse… isn’t exactly the best place for him right now.

“We could go live on an apple farm. Just like you used to say.”

“I think I said that once.” He laughs, but Connie doesn’t join him. Her eyes close and she leans back against the wall of the house, her knees folded up to her chest and arms folded across them.

“Seriously?”

“What’s the alternative?” Connie giggles, but it isn’t genuine. “Go to college a thousand miles away for something I’m not even sure I’ll like?”

“…Huh?”

She sighs. “Oh, I don’t know what I’m saying. Never mind.”

“No, no, wait.” Steven’s heart skips a beat as he sets his elephant-shaped watering can down on the ground, and kneels next to her. It’s the first time he’s ever, ever heard her doubt college, and it’s so intensely relatable that he can hardly believe it’s coming from her. “I thought you really wanted to go to Jayhawk.”

“I do.” She hesitates. “I did? I…”

A frustrated groan tugs itself out of her throat, and she puts her head in her hands. “It just isn’t fair. Why am I being expected to decide something that will shape my entire future? Our brains aren’t even done developing, Steven! We’ve still got nearly a decade!”

“Uh, well—”

“How do I even know that the thing I really want to do, the thing I’m really interested in right now, is going to be something I’m always interested in? Or should I be going for a hobby, like art, something I really enjoy but I’m not necessarily good at, but that’s an extremely competitive field, and…”

“Why don’t…”

“And Mom thinks I should be preparing for grad school already, like I have any idea how that could benefit me. I just… want to get away from all of it for a bit. Get a breather. Not have anyone breathing down my neck about something I haven’t even had time to think about, because I’ve been too busy with school!”

Connie gives a great sigh, leaning her cheek into her hand as she stares up at the moon overheard. “An apple farm has never sounded better.”

It’s getting late. The gems won’t be home for another day or two, if they’ll even notice he’s gone with how busy they’ve been. And Connie, in this lighting, has never looked so beautiful.

But then, he thinks that every time he sees her.

“Okay.”

She blinks. She looks at him with confusion written all over her face. “What exactly are you ‘okay’-ing?”

“Okay, let’s run away.” The look on her face is eerily close to the time he proposed, so very quickly, he adds, “Not forever. Not even all the way to an apple farm, if you don’t want. But just for a night or two, maybe. Let’s go pretend none of that stuff exists.”

“Mom’ll have my head.”

“So?”

That gets a bark of laughter out of her. She shakes her head… and then she grins. “Okay. Let’s go be rebellious teenagers.”

Steven giggles. “Can’t be rebellious if no one told us not to do this.”

“Ooh, I like the way you think, mister.”

She takes her hand in his, and they both laugh.

This is a far better idea in theory than it is on paper.

-

Rather than take the bus, they pile into Steven’s car. Steven grabs a few things to keep them overnight — mostly just a change of clothes, his toothbrush, only the basics. They swing by Connie’s house, where Steven grabs her and floats up to her window so she can grab what she needs.

They’re like ninjas.

His heart’s thudding in his chest, anticipation rising. The last time they did something like this, it had been over in an instant. Alexandrite chased down the bus and forced them out, and he’d lost his TV privilege for one thousand years.

Hard to believe it’s been three years since then.

But now, no giant woman pursues them. They drive out of the city, radio on, Connie gazing at the scenery with an expression between adoration and awe, and Steven’s heart softens at how the only other time he’s seen her with that look is when she looks at him.

It’s such a cheesy thought that he blushes, eyes back on the road immediately. 

“I think there’s some campgrounds about an hour out,” Connie suggests, almost startling him. “Do you wanna stay there for the night?”

“Oh. Sure.” He grins. “Getting back to nature, huh?”

“I haven’t been camping in so long.” Her voice is nostalgia colored in melancholy, and Steven knows she needs this.

“Camping it is, then.”

-

They do not have a tent.

They lay down on the top of his car and watch the stars.

“You know,” Connie murmurs, “I used to dream of being an astronaut. Of exploring planets in other solar systems, documenting everything, enjoying it maybe way too much.”

“Yeah?”

“Then everything happened.” Dread sinks into his stomach like lead, mouth drying, as he realizes what she means. “And… I don’t know. Maybe that’s not what I’m meant for.”

“How would you know?” He swallows, unable to look at her. His gaze remains fixed on the cloudless night sky, as he struggles to withhold what he can already tell would be his pink glow. “What you’re meant for?”

“I don’t know.”

In the silence that follows, Steven prays for what he isn’t meant for.

-

They sleep in the car. Connie on the backseat, and Steven in the driver’s, pushing the back far enough for him to at least sleep at an incline. He drapes his jacket over Connie to use as a blanket when he thinks she’s out, but she opens her eyes and offers him a smile that devastates him.

-

The next morning, when they’re back on the road, they get just enough reception for Connie to see she’s missed eight calls and has three voicemails.

“Shit.”

It’s the first time Steven’s heard Connie curse.

“Don’t worry about it.” Steven smiles, hoping to assuage her fears. “This is about you right now. Not them. So we’ll only go back when you’re ready to go back.”

Connie bites her lip. “No, I must’ve really worried them. I can’t believe I didn’t even text them to let them know what I was doing… I’m gonna call them.”

“No, don’t worry about it!” He laughs and hates how forced it sounds, for the look Connie sends him. He keeps his eyes on the road. “We could go another night. They’ll be fine.”

“Steven, they’re clearly not—”

“It’s not like they’ve even noticed!”

“They clearly have—” Connie cuts herself off this time. She furrows her brow, and then she reaches for his phone.

“Uh, hey…”

“You haven’t had yours even on.” She boots up his phone without asking him. “Steven, if you’re worried they won’t notice, you have to give them the chance to show it.”

He bites his tongue. Connie presses a few buttons on his phone, and then there’s a voice.

“You have one new message. First message:”

“Hey, Schtu-ball.” It’s Greg. The relief is so immediate and so intense that his eyes water and he doesn’t get why. “I don’t know what’s going on, but both you and Connie are missing, and the Dondai’s not here… I know things have been pretty rough lately, so. Call me when you can. I don’t want to push you, but I’m worried about you. I love you, kiddo.”

“End of message.”

Steven pulls over, pressing his wet, snotty face into the sleeve of his jacket, and Connie puts her arm around him and pulls him in.

No messages from the gems, even though both Amethyst and Pearl have phones by this point. But it’s fine.

Maybe Garnet foresaw his return.

“I don’t want to go back yet,” he tells Connie. “Is that… okay?”

“... Yeah.” It’s hesitant, but Connie gives a gentle sigh and rubs his back. “I’m gonna call my mom and explain what’s going on. But we don’t have to go back just yet.”

“Thanks.”

-

The next night is spent at a run-down motel that Steven recognizes a little too well. They’re on the border of Delmarva and Keystone, and they spend the evening with their bare feet dipping into the swimming pool.

“What are you going to do if the gems don’t call you?” Connie asks.

Steven huffs. “I don’t know.” He doesn’t want to think about it.

He’s not even sure if he wants them to call at all.

“Well…” Connie’s fingers interlace with his. His heart skips a beat. “It’ll be nice to sleep in an actual bed tonight. You know?”

“Yeah.” He smiles. “I know.”

Her phone buzzes. Connie glances at it, the phone turned away so Steven couldn’t sneak a peek even if he’d wanted to. “Oh, it’s my mom.” She pulls her feet out of the water, sighing. “I’ll be right back. You stay here, okay?”

He nods. Connie smiles and pulls her hand from his, grabs her shoes, and heads on back to the room with her phone pressed to her ear.

Steven groans and flops back against the pavement. What is he even doing? What point does this serve, to just… run away from all his problems? Why is he dragging Connie with him?

It’s better to run away with someone else than to do it alone.

No, Connie was the one who suggested it. It’s just that Steven’s the one prolonging it. He’s hijacked her journey, and he definitely shouldn’t have done that. He knows what that’s like.

Maybe he should go home. Even if none of the gems have noticed he’s gone, maybe that’s for the best. If he goes back now, he won’t have to explain himself to them. Or maybe they’d ask where he’d been, he’d say he’d gone for a walk, and they’d just shrug.

But Connie’s parents had noticed right away when she didn’t come home.

Pink explodes out of him, too bright, turning himself into a beacon in this poorly lit swimming pool in the middle of a poorly lit parking lot. He winces and struggles wildly for a moment to contain it—

Then a sound interrupts him. There’s the screech and stench of burning rubber, a sudden brake, and then the sound of a door opening and slamming shut. He turns, anxiety spiking — pink refusing to disappear — and sees the Maheswarans’ car pulled up beside the pool.

But it isn’t the Maheswarans that are charging him right now.

“STEVEN!”

Amethyst slams into him, knocking him into the chlorine pool water. Steven gasps as he surfaces, the water seeping through his organic jacket, but then Amethyst’s arms are gripping his shoulders, shaking him. “What the hell, man! What are you doing?!”

“H...huh?” At least she’s stuck in the water with him.

“You can’t just leave without any sort of notification,” Pearl says. Steven looks up to see both Pearl and Garnet standing on the pool’s edge, bizarre expressions on their face. He hasn’t seen anything like it before. Anger and… something else.

… Concern? Or is that just him hoping, projecting?

“You guys could’ve called me,” Steven mutters as he moves to the edge of the pool, pulling himself out. “I would’ve answered.”

“No, you wouldn’t have.” Garnet’s voice is resolute, firm, unyielding.

“I might have!” he snaps. “You can’t just -- just decide that for me! I didn’t even know you guys were coming, I didn’t even know you guys cared, I…!”

“Dude.” Amethyst swims on over, hopping out of the pool right next to him. “Are you… okay?”

Steven blinks.

“I…” He works his throat, but despite everything, he can’t find it in himself to articulate an answer. His eyes water, and he tries very, very hard not to let them see. “W...what are you even doing here? How’d you know I’d be here?”

Pearl smiles, though it doesn’t quite seem genuine. “Your location was on.”

“Huh…?” He could’ve sworn he turned it off before he turned off his phone. 

He tries not to think about what that means.

“C’mon,” Amethyst beckons, grabbing his hand. “Let’s head home, okay?”

“You are in big trouble for just up and leaving us, young man.” Pearl’s voice is stern, hard. “Connie’s going to go home with her parents, while we are going to walk to the nearest warp pad. All four of us. And we’re taking away your TV privileges again.”

“I don’t even really watch TV anymore,” Steven mutters in resignation.

He hasn’t done anything he likes to do in a long time.

“W-well… We’ll…” Pearl blushes, flustered, and quickly tries to recover. “Well, we’ll find something to take away from you! You can’t just do whatever you want!”

For a moment, the anger builds in him again. What are they even doing? Are they trying to — to discipline him? After years and years of letting him solve their problems for them, now they’re trying to do parenting right?

… Oh.

They’re trying.

“You ready?” Garnet asks.

His eyes water again, and somehow, slowly, his pink glow fades. “Yeah,” he murmurs, exhausted. “Yeah.”

He’s been ready for this for a long time.

[reesefms]

                          ✩ —  𝒉𝒊  𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒔  !  i’m  buzzing  with  excitement  because  we’re  finally  open  !  i’m  so  excited  to  see  everyone  bring  their  muses  to  life  ,  it’s  unreal  .  i’m  leia  (  she  /  her  )  repping  the  est  tz  ,  which  fits  my  #basic  personality  because  i  would  kill  for  starbs  iced  coffee  w/  oat  milk  .  i  honestly  apologize  in  advance  for  how  ramble - y  &  long  this  into  is  ,  it’s  a  little  embarrassing  !  i  would  love  to  plot  with  each  &  every  one  of  you  so  please  smash  that   💛  if  you’d  like  to  !  you  can  find  me  at  theweeknds#0379  on  discord  or  we  can  use  tumblr’s  ims  if  you  prefer  !  

                           *  𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐠𝐨𝐬  here  and  do  i  have  the  tea  for  you  .  reese  is  back  in  bridgehampton  for  the  summer  ,  living  off  the  leblanc’s  family  $302  mil  .  must  be  nice  to  come  back  home  to  the  hamptons  ,  i  wonder  what  her  fellow  class  of  2017  grads  think  of  her  return  .  you  know  ,  she  was  known  around  town  as  the  reveler  and  for  bhs  senior  superlatives  she  was  crowned  as  most  likely  to  be  late  to  her  own  wedding  .  i  wonder  if  that  still  holds  true  today  ,  a  lot  can  change  when  you  go  off  to  ucla  and  study  communications  .  either  way  ,  i  bet  she  is  still  very  audacious  ,  blithe  ,  negligent  and  depraved  .  hopefully  this  time  next  year  the plans  to  stay  in  la  and  focus  entirely  on  her  youtube  channel  come  true  .  in  the  meantime  ,  i  look  forward  to  seeing  her  blast  teen  idle  -  marina  and  the  diamonds  at  every  hamptons  function  .  it’s  going  to  be  a  wild  summer  home  ,  welcome  back  .

*  tw  :  drinking  ,  drug  use  ,  death  ,  overdose  ,  suicidal  ideations  if  you  squint

╰  ✩   𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢  𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜   :  

the  leblancs –  an american  made  ,  household  name  .  hollywood  embedded  so deeply in  the  bloodline  ,  it  made  the  rest  world  question  whether  or  not  a  gene  for  acting  existed  .  the  leblanc  women  always  seeming  to  marry  into  the  business  –  actors  &  actresses  going  hand  in  hand  ,  marriages  supposed  to  last  the  test  of  time  .  however  ,  for  every  card  of  luck  fate  deals  a  cursed  one  –  messy  divorces  ending  in  vicious  headlines  ,  the  media  practically  salivating  for  the  next  leblanc failure  .  every  ending  prompted  with  a  –  &  when’s  the  next  wedding ?  (  side  note  :  i  was  inspired  by  goldie  hawn  /  kate  hudson  !  )  

dawn  leblanc’s  determination  to  break  the  cycle  had  been  admirable  ,  the  young  actress  entering  a  tumultuous  relationship  with  a  young  musician  ,  bandleader  kurt  rhodes  .  for  four  magical  years  the  pair  defied  the  world’s  expectations  ,  perhaps  the  leblanc’s  would  finally  achieve perfection –  climbing  back  onto  the  pedestal  after  being  knocked  down  time  & time  again  .

the fifth  year brought  reese  elizabeth  leblanc into  the  world  ,  another  girl  slated  to  continue  on  the  leblanc  family  legacy  .  the  night  had  been  stormy  ,  thunder  no  match  for  her  cries  –  as  if  the  universe  had  known  the  blonde  was  destined  to  be  a force  of  nature  .  her  parents &  the  rest  of  the  world  fell  in  love  with  her  ,  angelic  golden  curls  & wide  ,  doe  eyes (  thanks  to  the  leblanc  genes  )  masking  the  terror  she  became  –  born  with  an  insatiable  curiosity  that  drove  her  to  explore  any  & everything  .

dawn  clung  to  the  hope  that  reese  would  mature  into  perfection  ,  hiring  yet  another  painter  to  cover  up  scribbles  in  a  bold  ,  crimson  shade  of  chanel  lipstick  .  forks  moved  to  the  top  shelf  in  an  effort  to  stop  her  from  emulating ariel ,  her  favorite  disney  princess  –  the  gold  metal  bound  to  ruin  her  curls  .  reese  favoring  time  with  her  father  ,  enamored  by  the  vibrations  raking  through  her  tiny  body  as  chubby  ,  little  fingers  pressed  against  black  &  white  keys  .

the seventh  year  ,  the  leblanc  curse  took  its  effect  ,  gifting  reese  a  divorce  for  her  second  birthday  .  this  one  messier  than  those  before  ,  kurt’s  affair  with  a groupie ,  no  less  ,  plastered  on  every  news  stand  .  her  grandmother  quick  to  swoop  in  ,  reese &  her  mother  moving  in  to  hide  away  from  the  flashing  lights  .  the  eldest  leblanc  reminding  her  daughter  that  she  should  have  listened  all  those  years  ago  –  musicians  weren’t leblanc  material  .  the  blame  never  falling  on  the  leblanc  women  –  self  -  absorbed to  a  fault  .

within  a  year  of  her  divorce  ,  dawn  re-married  ,  her  co-star  &  american’s golden  boy  brent  jacobs  –    the  supposed  new  love  of  her  life  .  as  always  ,  the  media  latched  onto  the  news  –  eagerly  sinking  their  teeth  into  the  idea  of  a  publicity  stunt  to  rub  the  tarnish  off  dawn’s  reputation  . &  when  reese  turned  three  ,  her  family  grew  to  four  – savannah  dawn  leblanc  entering  the  world  much  more peacefully than  her  older  sister  ,  wrapping  every  person  around  her  finger  with  just  a  bat  of  her  baby  blues (  eye  color  seemingly  the  only difference  between  the  leblanc  sisters ) .

╰  ✩   𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗  𝚒𝚍𝚕𝚎   :  

as  much  as  she  should  ,  reese  could  never  hate  her  younger  sister  .  the  pair  forging  a  bond  that  could  be  explained  by  no  one  despite  their  obvious  differences  .  with  only  a  shared  mother  ,  it  shocked  everyone  to  see  just  how  similar  they  looked  .  dawn  taking  to  the  idea  of  pretending  as  if  reese  were  the  daughter  of  her  second  husband  .  her  mother  had  always  been  too  good  at  acting  ,  a  master  at  eluding  reality  & morphing  it  into  an  acceptable  idyl  .

savannah  was  the  golden  child in  everyone’s  eyes  ,  reese  cast  aside  as  the other  leblanc ,  the  problem  child  .  the  blonde  often  found  sulking  in  her  room  only  to  sneak  out  the  window  the  second  she  got  an  urge  to  explore  .  the  supposed  ,  inherited  acting  bug  had  never  bitten  her  ,  reese  waving  away  any  offer  to  star  in  a  film  or  commercial  .  any  attempt  to  drag  her  to  an  audition  resulted  in  her  either  running  away  ,  or  creating  such  a  scene  that  no  one in  hollywood  would ever want  to  work  with  her  .  a  downpour on  any  project  .

savannah  took  to  acting  just  like  her  mother  .  the  pair  bonding  in  a  way  reese  could  never  ,  frequently  flying  from  their  home  in  the  hamptons  to  auditions  in  la  .  reese  tagging  along  only  so  she  could  see  her  father  ,  the  only  one  who  ever  seemed  to  get  her  –  dawn  claiming  reese  may  have  been  gifted the  leblanc  looks  ,  but  her  moodiness  all  stemmed  from  her  father  .

it  drove  her insane  ,  staring  at  her  reflection  in  the  mirror  every  night  as  if  to  ask  what  was  wrong  with  her  .  why  was  she  so  different ?  why  couldn’t  she  be  agreeable  like  savannah  ?  it  fed  her  jaded  soul  ,  reese  losing  her  innocence &  rose  colored  glasses  far  too  quickly  .  her  realism  tethering  her  to  reality  ,  able  to  see  through  the  pink  ,  glittery  fog  of  dawn  leblanc’s  world  .

she  fought  with  her  mother  constantly  ,  savannah  always  sneaking  into  her  room  at  night  to  ask  quietly  ,  why  won’t  you  &  mom  get  along  ?  she’s  doin’  her  best  re  .  reese  never  had  the  answer  ,  always  a  heavy  sigh  as  she  brushed  her  sisters  questions  off  .  unable  to  explain  that  ,  while  savannah  was  content  with  being  her  mother’s  doll ,  she  couldn’t  bring  herself  to  –  not  when  she’d  seen  the  world  beyond  the  facade  her  mother  &  grandmother  painted  .  

&  like  clockwork  ,  dawn  drove  her  second  husband  away  –  reese  16  & savannah  13  .  the  promise  to  co-parent  kept  ,  their  split  amicable  despite  the  constant  fights  that  had  ended  in  broken  dishes  &  reese  quietly  sneaking  out  –  losing  herself  in  a  party  ,  in  noise  to  forget  that  silence  could  be  just  as  loud  ,  but  more  deafening  .  

╰  ✩   𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑   :  

reese  couldn’t  escape  the  hamptons  or  her  mother  fast  enough  ,  ucla  her  ticket  away  .  the  only  dark  cloud  ,  leaving  behind  her  sister  .  the  two  promised  to  text  every  day  ,  savannah  always  welcome  to  stay  with  reese  if  their  mother  ever  got  to  be  too  much  –  savannah  much  more  adept  at  handling  her mood  swings  ,  appeasing  her  mother  with  a  sugar  sweet  smile  & a  promise  to  major  in  acting  after  graduation  .  

reese  ,  however  ,  had  no  idea  what  direction  she  wanted  to  go  –  communications  her  fall  back  in  an  effort  to  just  choose  something  that  didn’t  require  much  effort  .  ucla  her  dream  school  for  its  social  climate  more  than  its  educational  one  . &  her  freshman  year  marked  the  start  of  her  youtube  channel  –  reeses  ,  which  currently  has  a  whopping  3.4  million  subscribers  .  true  to  her  surname  ,  the  blonde  did  find  love  in  front  of  the  camera  ,  but  also  behind  it  as  she  vlogged  her  escapades  much  to  the  world’s  enjoyment &  her  mother’s  disappointment  .

savannah  &  reese  texted  every  night  ,  updating  each  other  &  signing  each  text  off  with  a  forever  &  always  .  occasionally  ,  reese  would  forget  –  too  drunk  or  high  to  craft  a  text  ,  always  apologizing  the  next  morning  when  she  woke  up  to  savannah’s  worried  texts  .  despite  being  the  one  that  should  look  out  for  her  sister  ,  savannah  always  seemed  to  be  looking  out  for  her  .  

one  visit  sophomore  year  ,  savannah  begged  reese  to  take  her  out  .  her  sister  living  a  more sheltered  life  ,  one  bound  by  strict  bedtimes  &  after  school  acting  classes  or  rehearsals  .  unable  to  say  no  ,  despite  knowing  she  should  ,  reese  brought  savannah  along  –  letting  her  sister  borrow  her  clothes  ,  the  two  starting  early  with  a  bottle  of  grey  goose  as  they  got  ready  .  

reese  always  had  a  tendency  to  loose  herself  in  a  party  ,  letting  the  night  drag  her  wherever  it  wanted  .  losing  sight  of  savannah  had  been  her  first  mistake  .  telling  savannah  to  have  a  good  time  ,  try  something  new  had  been  her  second  mistake  .  not  being  there  had  been  her  third  &  final  mistake  ,  savannah’s  introduction  to  a  line  of  cocaine  her  finale  .  the  screams  of  someone  call  911 still  keep  reese  up  at  night  –  remembering  vividly  what  it  felt  like  to  see  her  sister’s  body  limp  on  someone’s  bed  .  the  od  unexpected ,  the  line  bad  –  mixed  with  something  too  strong for  someone  so  pure to  handle  .  &  reese  was  left  to  blame herself  .  she  killed  her  sister  .  

the  world  mourned  the  loss  of  savannah  leblanc  .  reese’s  relationship  with  her  mother  more  estranged  ,  casting  the  blame  on  her  just  as  she  had  already  .  she  took  a  6  month  hiatus  from  vlogging  ,  reese  unable  to  do  anything  but  drink  herself  into  a  coma  like  sleep  .  it  was  far  easier  to  numb  herself  ,  bags  under  her  eyes  hidden  by  sunglasses  .  

her  re-entry  online  had  shocked  everyone  .  her  vlog’s  no  longer  carrying  the  light  air  despite  how  badly  she  tried  to  force  it  .  reese  no  longer  the  same  ,  more  self  deprecating  than  before  & much  more reckless  .  her  love  of  vlogging  no  longer  stemmed  from  pure  enjoyment  ,  but  a need to  be  seen  ,  to  no  longer  feel  alone  .  convinced  that  she  was  a  hurricane  ,  destroying  everyone  she  could  ever  get  close  to  .  yet  unable  to  bring  herself  to  care  for  her  safety  because  it should’ve been  her  that  night  ,  not  savannah  .

reese  has  a  blatant  disregard  for  herself  ,  willing  to  push  the  boundaries  so  far  for  the  sake  of  a  thrill  ,  to  feel  something  beyond  the  suffocating  culpability  that  feels  like  a  choke  hold  around  her  neck  . & if  she  ends  up  not  coming  back  from  it  ,  who  cares  right  ?  

she  still  pays  her  sister’s  phone  bill  ,  never  missing  a  beat  –  texting  her  updates  ,  rambles  ,  apologies  .  the  texts  signed  with  their  infamous forever  &  always  .   

so  !  i’m  currently  working  on  a  lil  connection  page  with  ideas  ,  but  for  now  please  accept  this  mess  💛

[blackcatkita]

Get to know my MC- Ride or Die

*These answers are set a couple of years into the future, not where I am currently writing her story and does contain spoilers. 

Elena (Ellie) Lisette Wheeler

Who is their love interest?

She and Logan fell hard and fast into the kind of love that lasts a lifetime. 

How tall are they?

She is 5′3 and can’t reach the top shelf. Logan will grab what she needs if he’s around, but if he’s not she will just climb up on the counter. Or the shelves at the grocery store, whatever.

How do they tend to dress?

College casual. What she wears depends on the season. The East coast is colder than California so in fall and winter it’s sweaters and leggings, sweatshirts and jeans, heeled boots or vans, whatever keeps her covered and comfortable. Warmer weather its a cute top or t-shirt with shorts or a sundress. She prefers bold colors, black or white over pastels, geometric patterns over floral and clean lines over ruffles and bows.

Do they like the way they look?

In grade school it bothered her that she was one of the shortest in her class. Her solution to the problem was trying to stretch herself by hanging from the monkey bars on the swing set her dad put up in the backyard. It didn’t work, but her dad loves telling that story. By middle school she didn’t mind being on the shorter side, she was more focused on studies and besides, who cares? Some people are short and some are tall, it doesn’t change who you are on the inside and that’s what matters. Being so focused on school, she didn’t put that much thought on her looks. She figured she was pretty cute, but when she met Logan senior year he made her feel truly beautiful for the first time. She knows she’s pretty, but she would much rather be judged on her character and intelligence over her looks.

Are they an only child or do they have siblings?

Only child, but her dad’s girlfriend has a fifteen year old daughter and a twelve year old son. If things continue to go well she might have step-siblings someday.

Are they a morning person or a night owl?

Ellie is a night owl, helpful for late night cram sessions, not so helpful for 8am classes. Her roommate Ingrid is the same way. The first few months at Langston had more than a few days of them rushing out the door to make it to class on time. Since Logan moved out east, he makes sure she gets out of bed by her third alarm when he stays over and when she stays at his apartment he gets up before her to start the coffee and make breakfast. Nothing gets Ellie out of bed like the delicious smells of fresh waffles and coffee wafting through the apartment. 

Are they a cat person or a dog person?

More of a cat person but she likes dogs too. She’s never had a pet, her mom was allergic and after she passed her dad was too busy working and filling both parental roles to properly train and care for one. She would like a cat someday, but she wants to wait until she’s done with undergrad and knows where she’s going to grad school before she even thinks about getting one.

Got any favorite foods?

For someone who hates mornings, she loves breakfast. Belgian waffles, omelets, pancakes, even cereal, she will eat it any time of day. She also loves any kind of fruit with the exception of watermelon. She doesn’t hate it, she just thinks it tastes like lightly sweetened water. 

How about favorite drinks?

Coffee, but that’s more out of necessity than an actual favorite. Otherwise it’s raspberry lemonade or Jarritos soda; specifically the flavors strawberry, lime, pineapple and mango.

What are their favorite movies or TV shows?

Between studying, required reading, writing papers and research, she doesn’t have a lot of downtime to watch tv but she does like cuddling up with Logan to watch a movie. She likes fantasy, sci-fi, horror (the sinister haunty kind not the stabby kind), psychological thrillers and mysteries, movies that have a twist at the end and make you think. She dislikes movies that make her sad but loves comedies that make her laugh until she cries. 

Do they have any hidden talents?

She’s never met a puzzle or riddle she couldn’t solve and she slays at board games.

Do they believe in love at first sight?

No, she’s far too logical for that. Attraction is what happens at first sight, driven by the brain chemicals adrenaline, dopamine and serotonin. Considering how fast she fell for Logan, she believes there’s no set timeline for love but it only happens after you truly know someone. 

What are they afraid of?

Failure, but that’s not to say she has a fear of failure in the clinical sense. The thought of failing doesn’t make her avoid trying something or subconsciously sabotage her chances of success, it makes her try harder, sometimes obsessively so. It’s just not acceptable to her, and if she does fail at something, she will take a step back, rethink the problem and try again. Oftentimes after a pint of ice cream.

What are their guilty pleasures?

Chocolate fondue, a glass of wine, reading for pleasure, escape rooms, driving with the windows down and the music blasting, watching Logan work on a car and cheering him on when he participates in a legal race. 

What was their dream job as a kid?

Space Captain. Not an astronaut, a Space Captain.

Is it still their dream?

Sadly, we still don’t have starships cruising around in space but the theme is the same. Ellie is majoring in Aerospace Engineering and her dream is to work for NASA.

Have they ever broken a bone?

The summer she was eight years she built a “plane” out of her bedsheets and some wood she found in the shed. Trying to fly it from the top of said shed turned out not to be the best idea. She crashed, landing on her shoulder and breaking her collarbone. It was a minor fracture and she didn’t need surgery, but she did have to walk around in a sling for a while.

Have they ever been in trouble with the law?

Well, yeah... but they were dirty cops so does it even count?

Three random facts!

-She is a stress cleaner and organizer. If Logan comes home to a spotless apartment smelling of bleach and a re-organized fridge, cabinet, or closet, he knows Ellie is over-stressed about something and it’s time for mission “get Ellie to relax”. A bubble bath, massage, gift certificate to a spa or a sensory depravation pod, dinner out, a long drive... whatever it takes he will do.

-She loves to play in the snow and ever since Logan taught her how to snowboard, they always try to go a few times every winter.

-She is a mega fan of Harry Potter and never understood the appeal of princesses when there were witches and wizards with cool wands. Her Hogwarts house is Ravenclaw and she takes great pride in that. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Requested by @annekebbphotography​, I am posting this in honor of Ride or Die appreciation week epilogue hosted by @brightpinkpeppercorn​ @choicesarehard​ and @client-327​. I wanted to get a fun and fluffy one-shot done for it but alas, I didn’t so that will come as a bonus tomorrow! 

[ddonggeun]

Hey! So I’m suspecting if I got adhd/add but is there any symptom idk. It’s really exp here to get it diagnosed

sorry it took me a while to get back to you because honestly i dont know whats a good alternative for you can be so i guess i can share my own experience? 

first of all i think googling symptoms and types of adhd and reading peoples account on how adhd/add manifest is a good start? my doctor and the reddit /r/adhd REALLY help me to accept myself (which is the first step i think) but the way i get diagnosis (i am adhd with predominately inattentiveness - but at the same time i have depressions and dyslexia which is like a killer combo 10/10 would never rec) is that i came across with an article a couple months about how girls with adhd are more likely to be (mis)diagnosed with depression and it basically fucks up multiple generations because they cant get the help they need and i was like wait whats describe in it sounds kind of like me but at the same time i have always been very lethargic and rather well behaved in class growing up i am nothing like what you would typically associate with adhd (you know the hyper-activeness) so during my next visit to the doctor (im getting treatment for my depression) i mention to the article to her and she said wait you know what describe how you feel in a classroom setting growing up and is there anything you do that teachers complain about repeatedly and tell me how studying and doing homework is like to you and so i did (i can go further into details of my life since a lot contributes to why i only get diagnosis when im 21… let me know if you would like to know i guess?)

my doctor (who just so happens to be an adhd specialist and is quite active in the research area i didnt know before then we stan forever i love her really she is so encouraging and so good at her job) took some notes as i was talking and after im done she said you know what i think you might be onto something but i cant be sure yet (since i have depression and dyslexia which both overlaps quite a lot with adhd/add) why dont i first explain to you what adhd is and i’ll give you the set of official diagnosis questions you dont have to do it just take a look at it first do some research organize your thought talk to your parents about it and if you think getting a test on it is something you want we can set up another appointment and we can go from there - which is really really nice because adhd has always been a taboo at least with my upbringing it makes you a loser socially academically and you know just in general its not something you will want to have…. 

in hind sight there are SO MANY SIGNS even in early childhood how come no one notice i dont know prolly because i grew up in the 00s if you are different you need to kys lmao rip: 

trouble paying attention in school or work,

the appearance of not listening - although im an audio learner funny enough

avoidance of activities that require sustained focus,

being easily distracted 

restlessness

fidgeting and cant sit properly - i shake my legs or click my pen so much especially when im thinking or anxious lmao, i got into trouble a lot when i was younger because i only sit in my seat facnig the teacher 5 mins max at at ime then i move around or i move the chair around i think better when i cross my legs but i went to a uniform school and i always make my skirt too short so you know

interrupting - if i dont say what comes to mind when it comes to mind, the thought is gone forever

frequent talking and talking way too fast - i get the exact same comment every single report day class from when i was 4 till i graduated high school im not even kidding “she has excellent comprehension skill and reading speed. it would be great if parents can help her out a bit in maths or chemistry.  she has a lot of potential if she applies herself, she seems distracted although when we ask her questions she can answer. very helpful and bubbly and yet she talks too much in class. she is not disruptive and her seatmate never complains but she just doesnt stop talking. we have been pairing her up with quiet students in class in the hopes that she will talk less in class but she just turn the quiet student talkative”

trying to do multiple things at once - i cant do one thing at a time, even when im say writing a paper i need to be listening to music or talking to someone if not switching between tabs or word files

mood swings

hyperfocus - oh boy oh boy oh boy

impulsiveness - i dont know if i get better as i age or is it getting worse i just know how to clean up my mess lmaooooo

poor time management - although i would say ever since i start listening to stuff 24/7 it really helps build a sense of the passage of time or whatever? its like now i know ok by the time i get to the third song in the shower i need to be washing out my conditioner; or say i need to go somewhere in 40 mins which is really abstract to me i set timers and put on a show thats 35ish mins even tho im not watching it just so im aware of time is actually happening if it makes sense

fail to follow through - i start things and once i have it figure out in my head i struggle to put it down in words or explain it to others i work well with other adhd peps tho

doesnt follow instruction and only do stuff their way

burnout - this is the worst especially if you are a perfectionist or a control freak and guess who is both 

trouble coping with stress - 

i luck out because im canadian and my doctor (in my schools clinic) just so happens to be a specialist who is very passionate about helping undergrads and grad school students to achieve as much as they can - so doctor and diagnosis for me is free. i do have to pay for my medications out of my pocket for a bit since im on vyvanse (to treat both my adhd and depression-lead anxiety its complicated but it makes sense when my doctor explained it to me lol) and this drug isnt covered by Pharmacare (CAD $130ish for 3 weeks worth of 30mg, im mostly on 30mg but on days when i dont have work on stuff or go to school i take 20mg just so my anxiety dont cause me to explode lmao) and very expensive but recently my doctor and i have agreed that vyvanse really work for me and it is something that i should be on daily for the foreseeable future we applied for special authorization which means i only gotta pay the tax… of course medicating isnt a must but it is what works for me and we figure out a way to make it affordable so i cant be more happy about that

at the same time i work with my psychiatrist to you know configure the whole adhd thing cause you know 21 years of repressing and forcing your feet into a shoes that not even your size frick you up thats something people dont tell you 🤷🏻‍♀️

what my doctor said to me then stuck with me - she told me adhd or add really is no monster or flaw in fact it is a very valuable set of traits we inherit from our ancestor - we hate it now because modern society render these skills useless well you see adhd isnt all about the hyperactiveness you see in the media people with adhd are extra sensitive to their surrounding and prefer hands on experiences (today we call them distracted) they are always aware of the change around them and is capable to attend to a couple things at a time and act fast because their brains are always making sense of things even when they arent consciously doing it. in todays society we dont want these kind of people why? because they ask questions they are curious people who notice trivial stuff that dont contribute to productivity they cant sit still which makes them not the ideal factor workers or pupils BUT! you have to remember that industrialization started like a century ish ago before that our ancestors live in predominately tribal society - adhd people then are the perfect caretakers and protectors, why? because they are always noticing things they adapt and react fast… so yeah it kinda suck for us growing up in a system thats designed to be everything we are and it is something that need to be changed but for those of us who “made it out alive” especially people who only get diagnosed in adulthood more often than not they look back and realize they have developed so many incredible ways to cope to make things work - are they always the perfect way? are they always health? no definitely no but at the same time it shows you how incredible these people are they make things work yes things are really hard sometimes but you got to give yourself a pet in the shoulder for not giving up… with the help of science and research we now know a little more about how adhd affect people we now have medication and programs developed to help people with adhd - they arent to dumb you down or numb you but instead it helps you to focus better so you can actually hear your entire thought and not just phrases or sentence fragments

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapt 2: Sometimes It Hurts Instead

“We had a deal!” Trini shouts out with a tinge of underlying anger to her voice. She doesn’t even bother waiting until she’s fully entered the firehouse nor cares if anyone else happens to hear her. Trini’s a woman on a mission.

“Good to see you too, Trini.” Jason emerges from the cab of the pump truck with a bit of a sheepish smile. “Welcome home.”

“You promised, Scott.” Trini makes her way into the garage of the firehouse and straight towards Jason, never once breaking her anger-induced scowl.

“I know, but--”

“You fuckin’ promised me.”

Jason lets out a long sigh and rubs the back of his neck. “Heckyl had a thing for flying, Trini. So the bulk of the battle ended up taking place--”

“In the air,” Trini finishes Jason’s words. She suddenly deflates as all traces of anger seem to vanish into thin air and takes a seat down on the edge of one of the nearby trucks.

Without saying another word, Jason takes a seat next to Trini and joins her in the silence for a moment or two.

“You still could’ve called me.”

“You’re 100% right,” Jason replies with a reaffirming nod.

“That’s why Billy made these. Remember?” Trini rolls her sleeve up to reveal a nondescript, metallic bracelet around her wrist.

“Sorry, T.” Jason offers up an apologetic look. “Can we start over? Please?”

Fuck.

Jason always knows what to say.

Every single goddamn time.

It’s his gift…

And god, does Trini hate and love it all at the same time.

“Hi, Jason,” Trini grumbles in a playful yet somewhat mocking tone.

“Hi, Trini,” Jason quips back. He gives Trini a light bump with his shoulder. “How’s life been treating you?”

A disbelieving chuckle slips through Trini’s lips. She tucks a stray strain of hair that’s come loose from her ponytail behind her ear and gives a shrug of her shoulders. “Same as always. How about you? You and Billy doing okay?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

An ear to ear grin spreads across Jason’s face, and no words are needed. Trini already knows the answer.

“That good, huh?” Trini replies, matching Jason’s shoulder bump with one of her own.

“I’m the luckiest guy on the face of the earth.”

Of course, that’s his answer.

Freakin’ fairytale of a love story. High school sweethearts who, against all the odds, managed to make it work. And went on to get married. On a warm summer evening at the Angel Grove yacht club. Just two short years ago.

It’s a story that should’ve been--

No. Pull it together, Gomez. This isn’t about you.

“Glad to see some things don’t change.” Trini stands up, stretches and takes a long, hard look around. “But this place has. Did it get bigger?”

“Nope. All Billy. Once Chief Richardson retired--”

Trini does a slight double take at these words. “Wait. When did he retire? Coulda sworn the last time we talked you said he’d rather up and die on the job than step down.”

“I did. But… that was almost a year ago.” Jason replies with a boyish shrug.

Shit.

Has it been that long?

No. The last time they talked it was right before--

“Fuck. Valentine’s day.” Trini says as a look of realization sweeps across her face. “Jesus, Jase. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…”

“Hey. It’s all good. I get it. I really do.”

“Yeah. but still…” Trini runs her hands over her ponytail and lets out a heavy sigh. “I should be better.”

“We all should.” Jason pushes himself up from the bumper of the fire truck to join Trini. “But what matters is you’re here now.”

“God. You’ve been spending too much time with Mamaji.”

“You know the drill. Family dinner. Every Sunday--”

“At 4pm.” Trini finishes Jason’s sentence with a bit of a smirk. “How could I forget?”

“Didn’t think you did.”  

“You and Billy coming tonight?”

“Of course. We’re planning on swinging by around 7ish for dessert. Need to go to Billy’s mom’s place first for dinner.” Jason snatches up a stray pile of hoses and hoists them over his shoulder with the greatest of ease. “Now come on. The youngest Fire Chief of Angel Grove in over a decade wants to give you a tour of the station.”

“Do I have a choice?” Trini deadpans.

“Nope.” Jason doesn’t waste another moment. He starts to head towards the back, not even giving Trini a second glance.  

“Fine.” Trini replies as she follows suit and makes her way through the station.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Chuki!”

Trini barely manages to make her way through the back door of the kitchen, before being bombarded with a barrage of kisses and hugs by a woman that she has come to know as one thing and one thing only--

Mamaji.

But, at first, way back when Trini was just starting to come into her own, it was Mrs. Hart. Then, a few months after being kicked out by her parents, it switched to Meredith. And finally, on a crisp November evening when Trini revealed that she was planning on marrying their only daughter, it became Mamaji.

“Hi,” Trini replies, unable to hide her smile.

Meredith pushes Trini back, holding her out at arm's length, and gives her a quick once over from head to toe. “You lost weight again.”  

“Mamaji--”

“And your hair. Still the ponytail? I thought we agreed. You were going to cut it.”

“I know, I know. I just--”

“You need to take better care of yourself,” Meredith cuts Trini off with an underlying hint of disappointment to her voice.

“Give the girl a break. She hasn’t been home for more than five minutes.” Frank lumbers into the kitchen, arms brimming with overstuffed grocery bags. He plops them down on the nearby kitchen table and without another moment’s hesitation, pulls Trini into a bear hug.

“Hi, Bapu.”

“How’s my girl doing?”

“Doin’ good,” Trini responds. She can feel her cheeks growing red with a slight embarrassment.

“Just good?”

“Yeah. Just good.”

Meredith hums in response as she turns her attention back towards the menagerie of pots and pans on the stove.

“Grad school still kicking your ass?”

“Frank!” Meredith shoots him a quick but scolding look over her shoulder.

“What?” Frank playfully shrugs his shoulders in response. He reaches into one of the bags and starts to rummage around for something. “Picked you up something.”

Frank emerges a second later from the bag with a six-pack of Pacifico beer and an ear to ear grin.

“Thanks, Bapu,” Trini replies matching his smile as he tosses her a can and then takes for himself.

“Of course, kiddo.”

All these years later and it still blows her mind that they treat her as if she’s their own.

Frank parks himself at one of the free kitchen chairs and motions for Trini to join him.

“So. What’s the latest and greatest? How're things going with…” Frank glances up at Meredith, drawing a blank.

“Gillian.”

“Right. Gillian. How’s she doing?”

“We kinda broke up,” Trini mumbles in between sips of beer.

“Broke up?” Meredith whips back around once again, hand still clutching the curry covered spoon. “But why? She was such a lovely girl.”

“I dunno… Just didn’t feel right, I guess.”

“Chuki…”

Now it’s Frank’s turn to shoot Meredith a look, causing her to let out a light sigh and returns to manning the stove.

“Eh. If it wasn’t right, then it wasn’t right.” Frank gives Trini a fatherly nudge with his shoulder, catching her eyes in the process. There’s an unspoken understanding there between the two of them. No further explanation is needed. He gets it.

But Trini does know the reason.

Cause it’s always the same. Regardless of the girl. Or the situation.

When it comes down to it, they just aren’t--

No. Not happening.

Stop it, Gomez.

“Chuki?”

“Yeah?” Trini snaps herself out of the confines of her thoughts to notice that Meredith has abandoned the stove and is now thoroughly inspecting the contents of the grocery bags.

“Potatoes. I need all four bags peeled and scrubbed.” Meredith fishes out the bags of potatoes and plops them down with a hard thud in front of Trini.

“...And that’s my cue to leave.” Frank get up, stretches, and then gives Trini a light peck on the forehead. “I’ll be out back. Come and join me when she lets you outta indentured servitude.”

“Will do, Bapu.”

Frank disappears out the back door, leaving Trini alone once again with Meredith.

“So Gillian…”

“Can we not? Please, Mamji?” Trini cuts Meredith off, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I promise. I’ll fill you in on Gillian Just… Just not right now.”

Without another word, Meredith makes her way over to Trini and wraps her arms around her, gives another quick but loving squeeze.

“Thanks,” Trini exhales as she places her hands on top of Meredith’s and returns the gesture.

“Anytime, Chuki.”

A comforting silence falls between the two of them as Meredith heads back to manning the stove while Trini rips open a bag of potatoes and begins to work.

Home… with an asterisk.

That’s the only way to explain it.

Not the home she grew up in. No. That one just doesn’t exist anymore.

It’s a different sense of home. A home that almost, at one point in time, she was going to officially belong to.

But then--

Stop. Don’t do it.

Trini shakes her head a bit, in an attempt to clear her thoughts. She takes an extra long swig of her beer and then dives head first into the task of peeling the mountain of potatoes.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Strange.

It’s the only way to describe it. The odd sensation that suddenly is rushing through every inch of her body.

Like touching a live wire mixed with a hint of…

Fear?

Anxiety?

What the hell is it?

Trini pauses mid peel, tuning all of her concentration in on her body.

Too much peeling? It has been well over an hour since she started. Maybe it’s--

Ding Dong.

“Chuki! Can you get that?” Meredith calls out from upstairs.

“Yeah.” Trini tosses the half-peeled potato back into the bag and gets up from the table.

She makes her way from the kitchen into the living room but suddenly hesitates before going to open the front door.

The feeling…

She knows this feeling.

But how?

Ding Dong.

“Chuki!”

“Yeah. I’m on it,” Trini hollers back.

What the hell is it?

Trini pulls open the front door and--

Fuuuuuuuuuuucccccccck

There, standing in the doorway is the one person in the world that Trini prayed she would never have to lay eyes on again in her life…  

Kimberly fuckin’ Hart

[chicklette]

@katlosthergdmind remember how I said i wanted a fic where Steve and Bucky dated when Steve was smol and then broke up and then became FB friends but B didn’t know Steve got big and was all whoa! when they finally met irl?  

I wrote that today: 

“Hell.” Bucky closes his eyes and leans against the cool window of the cab.  It’s raining, a soft, steady stream, and Bucky cracks the window, letting a draft of fresh air in.  Breathing deep, he runs a hand across his face before flicking his phone on.  He navigates past the lock screen and opens up Facebook.  

He shakes his head at himself and closes the app before opening it again.  Steve’s status update says “Big Day!” with a nervous emoji next to it.

“You’re tellin’ me, pal,” Bucky says, then closes the app again.

Six months earlier, he’d been at Nat and Sam’s housewarming, drinking their mediocre beer and eating Sam’s amazing Mac & Cheese balls, when he’d found himself drawn to the painting that dominated the living room.  He knew it was the Brooklyn Bridge – that was a shape that was seared onto his heart – but the colors surrounding it – bold, dark reds bleeding into yellows and greens, blues so dark they could be black, but weren’t – it was mesmerizing.

After a few minutes, Nat came to stand next to him.  

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.  Where’d you find it?”

“It was a gift,” she said, her husky voice light.  “Sam’s old roommate from Grad School.”

“A gift?” Bucky said. “Jesus, Nat, that’s –“

“Beautiful,” Sam said, looking right at Nat.  

It was disgusting how much in love she and Sam were, and if Bucky didn’t love them both so much, he’d hate them.

“Who’s the artist?” Bucky asked.  “I might be in the market.”

“Rogers,” Sam said, and Bucky’s whole world stilled.  “Steven Grant Rogers.”

He’d left shortly after that, too shaken to stay and make nice.

It took Bucky all of twenty minutes to find Steve’s Facebook page.  There was scant personal information.  It was mostly photographs from around New York (mostly Brooklyn, but Bucky recognized a few from Central Park, and some from what looked like somewhere upstate), and Steve’s art.  

God, no wonder he’d been drawn to that painting.  He’d spent nine months of his life living with Steve – falling asleep with the scent of turpentine in his nose, waking at three in the morning to find his slim frame laboring over a canvas taller than he was, waiting as Steve combed supply shops, looking for the perfect shade of blue.  “I can’t quite get it right,” Steve would say, when Bucky asked why he didn’t just mix his own.  “Well what color is it?” Bucky’d ask, and Steve would clam up.  Artists.

It was almost a year after they broke up that Bucky finally stopped ducking into every art supply shop that he passed, looking for the mysterious shade of blue.  He never did find out what the color was, or why Steve needed it.

He’d met Steve his first year at college.  He’d been drawn the small, dynamic man who didn’t seem to know when to back down.  A guy about Bucky’s size was taking a swing at Steve, and Bucky’d shown up just in time to clock the guy, kicking him in the ass and sending him sprawling.  He held his hand out to Steve, who struggled to his feet on his own, sneering at Bucky’s outreached hand.  

“I had him on the ropes,” Steve said, and Bucky was smitten.

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky said. “But that chump had it coming.  I couldn’t resist.”

Steve offered Bucky a tentative smile, and then his hand.  Steve smiled up at him with big blue eyes and Bucky was a goner.  

They’d fallen into bed within a week, and were living together just a few months later.  Steve wasn’t flush for cash, and neither was Bucky, but Steve’s scholarship paid for a studio apartment, and the pair had become inseparable. It was idyllic.

Bucky woke most mornings to Steve sleeping beside him, his small frame curled into Bucky, face soft with sleep.  When he got home, they’d make stir fry or pasta, or Bucky’s favorite, Bean and cheese quesadillas, and then spend the evening studying together, hands idly stroking the other’s skin, until it got too much and they were tearing each other’s clothes off.

The way Steve kissed – god. Bucky’d never had anything like it, before or since.  It was like he kissed with his whole body – hands and arms and legs, wrapping himself around Bucky and all Bucky wanted was more.  It was perfect.

Until, that is, Bucky’s money ran out.

He’d worked every summer since he was 15, and was working two jobs while in school, but even with Work Study and a few small scholarships, Bucky was still going to have to come up with better than fifteen grand for his next year’s tuition.  Steve had offered to let Bucky stay with him for free, but that didn’t solve the matter of tuition

“You could take out loans,” Steve offered.  They rarely talked about money together, other than to bemoan the fact that they never quite had enough.

“I can’t,” Bucky said. Getting into debt was selling off your future to the lowest bidder, that what Bucky’s Pop always said, and Bucky believed him.  If he started taking out loans now, he’d graduate so deep in debt that his life wouldn’t be his own until he was nearly forty.  He couldn’t do it.  Not to himself, and certainly not to Steve.

When he graduated, he needed to be able to take care of Steve.  Needed to be able to support him, so that he could make art without having to work shitty side jobs that sapped his creativity.  It’s what Steve deserved.

It seemed like the recruiter on campus had the answers to all of Bucky’s problems.  He could give Uncle Sam four years of his life, live cheap as sin on the government’s dime, and when he was out, he’d have enough to support Steve and finish his own degree.

It maybe wasn’t ideal, but it was the best solution he could find.

Bucky signed the papers and went home to talk to Steve.  

Steve had been furious, and by the time Bucky reported to boot camp, he was minus a whole lot of hair, most of his worldly possessions and one boyfriend.

It hadn’t gotten him down too much.  He knew it was a matter of time before Steve forgave him.  

He hadn’t counted on the IED that took out most of his squad, left him with screaming, sweating nightmares and an arm that only worked most of the time.

By the time Bucky’d gotten his discharge and worked through his physical and mental therapy (okay, that last one was ongoing), Steven Grant Rogers was nothing more than a warm memory that Bucky didn’t let himself indulge in too often.  

And then there was Sam and Nat’s party, and the painting.  Bucky found himself sending Steve a friend request, which was accepted only minutes later.  It didn’t take long before Steve hit Bucky up on Messenger, and the two had been talking regularly since.

And now here he is, in a taxi, on his way to some (undoubtedly hipster) coffee shop in Brooklyn, to see Steve Rogers for the first time in a decade.  He’s not kidding himself.  He knows that whatever it was that he and Steve had was firmly buried in the past.

Bucky’s not the guy he was back then.  When he met Steve, he’d been going to school to become a civil engineer.  By the time he got out of the Army though, all that changed.  Bucky didn’t do well in crowds, hated being cooped up for too long, and the idea of sitting at a desk for eight hours a day made him want to blow his brains out.  

He’d gotten two things out of Walter Reed Hospital:  a new best friend in the form of Natasha Romanoff, and a lifeline to the world in the form of a laptop computer.  Nat was a recuperating soldier like he was.  She’d been captured and held by the enemy for some time before she’d been rescued. She didn’t talk about it often and Bucky didn’t pry.  He had three sisters at home – he knew how to be around women.  Often though, she’d sit beside him while Bucky’d gone from navigating the web to learning how computers worked.  By the time he was discharged, he’d become something of an expert in cyber security.

Now, he designs secure websites for small businesses, and spends the occasional afternoon lecturing high-school kids on the importance of online safety.  It’s a good living, and Bucky makes enough to not worry so much about money.  His future is his own.

He could have hunted up a dozen photos or more of Steve by now (along with his credit score, full financial details and probably the name of his mother’s maiden aunt), but he’d chosen to respect Steve’s privacy.  Besides, as much as Bucky wanted to know how Steve had grown in the years they’d been apart, he didn’t want to do anything that would upset the friendship that had bloomed between them in the last few months.

When he gets to the coffee shop, he looks around, but doesn’t spot anyone who looks like Steve.  

Shrugging, he orders himself an Americano and takes a seat by the window.  He pulls up Messenger to let Steve know he’s arrived, when a hulking presence draws his attention.  

“Seat’s taken,” Bucky says, not looking up from his phone.

“Buck?”

Startled, Bucky looks up…and up…and up.

“Steve?”

If Steve’s warm laugh wasn’t exactly the same, Bucky wouldn’t have believed it was him.

“What the hell happened to you?” Bucky asks, standing.  He relieved to notice that Steve’s only got about an inch on him, but holy hell, what happened?

Steve laughs again, then leans in, pulling Bucky in for a hug.  “You look great,” Steve says, and oh, God, why does he have to smell so good?

“You look taller,” Bucky says, his own laugh bubbling up.

Steve sets a cup down on the table then sits opposite Bucky, and Bucky takes him in.  The blonde hair is a little darker than it was before, but his eyes – those perfect, dark blue eyes, they’re exactly the same.

And that blush!  Bucky remembers that blush, and that bashful bat of long lashes as he looks away.

“Seriously,” Bucky says. “Tell me this wasn’t just eating your Wheaties.”

Steve breaks into another full grin, and yeah, there’s that same smile.

“It wasn’t just Wheaties,” Steve confirms.  “I got really sick, middle of sophomore year.  It was…pretty touch and go for a while,” he says, and Bucky’s blood runs cold.  While Bucky was in recovery, and all the years after, he’d never imagined Steve as anything other than happy.  He’d pictured Steve married to a woman, with two little girls and a thriving art career.  He’d pictured Steve married to a man, the two of them taking their golden retrievers out for long walks in central park, a bright red scarf around Steve’s neck, his older, taller husband doting on him.

The idea occurs to him for the first time that Steve might have been gravely ill, might have died, and Bucky wouldn’t have known.  It sends a shiver down his spine.

“Go on,” Bucky musters.

“I ended up in a program – it was kind of a last ditch effort to save my heart – and the side effect was this,” he says, looking down at himself.  “I did about five years of growing in about a year.  It was crazy – I just remember everything hurt and I was starving, constantly.  By the time it was over though, my heart was healed, my lungs were clear, and I ended up with the metabolism of a hummingbird.”  Steve shrugs.  “I thought about telling you…”

“But the idea of seeing me speechless for once meant you didn’t,” Bucky finished.  Back when they were together, Bucky was a charmer. Still could be, but it wasn’t the same.

“So,” Bucky says.  “Did you ever get married? Have kids?  Catch me up.”

And like that, they start talking, and it’s like no time passed at all.

Bucky’s a little sad to hear that Steve never married or had kids.  He’d always pictured Steve as family man.  Maybe it’s because that’s what he’d always wanted for himself.  A couple of kids, a couple of dogs, and a surly cat named Cujo.  

Instead, Steve had finished his art degree, then gone to grad school, where he met Sam.  Bucky’s since learned that Sam and Steve were inseparable until Nat came along.

“I’ve never seen him like that about anyone before,” Steve confides, and Bucky agrees.  Nat’s strong, and beautiful, and intimidating as hell.  Not just anyone could attract her interest, and it takes someone really special to keep it. Bucky confides as much and he Steve laugh how mushy the two of them can be when they think no one’s looking.

Bucky can’t deny the kernel of hope that blooms when he realizes that Steve is well and truly single.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Steve says with a shrug.  “I’d love to be with someone.  Just…has to be the right someone, you know?”

And yeah, Bucky knows.

He’s had a few relationships over the years, a couple of friends with benefits and two men that he’d tried to make something more with, but for one reason or another, it never really worked out.  His sister, Becca, was egging him on to find someone, but like Bucky always told her, when it’s right, it’s right, and you can’t make it be if it’s not.

Bucky and Steve finish their coffees, get seconds and when Bucky reached the end of his third cup, he sets it down with a start.

“Geez,” he says.  “I think if we don’t get out of here soon, they’re gonna start charging us rent.”

Steve looks up and takes a long look outside.  The rain’s stopped, and twilight is creeping in, painting the wet streets in golds and reds.

“It’s beautiful,” Steve says, and digs out his phone, snapping a couple of pictures.  “Sorry,” he says, looking up at Bucky and flushing. “Habit.”

“All good,” Bucky says. “Did you get what you need?”

Steve nods, and the pair of them stand.

“I guess,” Steve starts.

“Yeah,” Bucky says. He’s getting ready to offer his hand but every single part of him is screaming to stay. Not to let it end.

“Do you want -” he starts.

“Do you think –“ Steve says.

The pair of them laugh, and Bucky gestures to Steve to go on.

“Would you want to get dinner?” Steve asks.  It’s nowhere near late enough for dinner, but Bucky smiles.  

“I make a mean Alfredo,” Bucky says, and Steve grins.  

“Don’t lie to me, Barnes, we both know you burn water.”

“Hey!  I will have you know I am one hell of a cook.  You don’t know me as well as you think you do,” Bucky says.

Steve’s face softens all over and the way he’s looking at Bucky makes Bucky want to stand a little taller, try a little harder.  Anything to keep that look on Steve’s face.

“I don’t,” Steve says. “But I would really, really like to.”

He holds out his hand. It’s big and square, and Bucky can see paint around his cuticles.

“Same, pal,” Bucky says, and folds his hand into Steve’s.

They put on their coats and leave, Bucky with one hand folding into Steve’s and the other in his pocket.

“Oh!” he says, his fingers closing around a small metal tube.  “I, uh, God,” he says, suddenly feeling very awkward.  “I saw this the other day and thought of you,” he says, pulling the tube of oil paint from his pocket and putting it in Steve’s upturned hand.

“I’m sure you found what you were looking for by now, but…” Bucky shrugs, watching as Steve stares at the tube of paint.

“You always said you were looking for the right color,” Bucky explains.  “I’m sure you’ve moved on, but I just…”

Steve closes his hand around the tube and looks into Bucky’s eyes.

“Bucky,” he breathes, and tugs on Bucky’s hand until they’re standing chest to chest.  He unlaces their fingers and reaches up, cupping Bucky’s jaw with his warm hand.

Bucky’s heart is beating triple-time in his chest.  It’s all he can do not to audibly gulp.

And then Steve is kissing him, a warm, soft brush of lips, and then one of them is sighing, and then the world stops, and Bucky opens his eyes to see Steve looking back at him.  

“Been wanting to do that all day,” Bucky says.

“For weeks,” Steve says, and Bucky grins.  

“Yeah, pal,” he says. “For weeks.”

As they leave the shop, Bucky laces their fingers back together.  “You never said,” he says, stepping onto the wet sidewalk.  “Did you ever figure out that color you were looking for?  You know, back when we were dating?”

Steve flushes and ducks his head, and it’s so adorable that Bucky tightens his grip on Steve’s fingers.

“Nah,” Steve says, looking down at his feet.  “Lost my reference.”

Bucky’s heart stills for a moment.

“Good thing I found it again,” Steve says, and Bucky smiles until his face hurts.

Good thing, indeed.  

[peterjonesparker]

If you're taking prompts how about spideychelle with peter being jealous?

hello! thank you so much for sending this! i’m sorry it too me a bit to get it done! i’m currently on a road trip so i don’t have that much time. as someone who really struggles to write anything but fluff (lol), this was an interesting challenge! because jealousy is such a complicated emotion! for more angst: check out @spideyxchelle‘s jealous!peter headcanons here and here! they are soooo good!!!

also again, thanks to @accioharry for reading over this before i posted, like she always does. and check out her headcanons! and she’s cool i guess so maybe follow her?

but anyway, here’s wonderwall a fic in which peter parker has the best girlfriend. but everyone else notices too and it’s becoming an issue™ for peter. (ao3)

a short list of things peter lovesabout his life:

being spiderman, which he’s got onlock

aunt may, who hugs him when he’s sadand gives him good advice

going to mit, for which he’s payingbasically nothing thanks to financial aid and scholarships

knowing tony stark, who managed toconvince aunt may to let him live off campus after sophomore year and to lettony pay for said apartment

ned, his best friend, who’s killing itat columbia

michelle, who is, objectively, really fucking awesome, and also in lovewith him

a short list of things peter doesn’tlove about his life:

michelle is irresistible to peopleother than peter parker

peter parker gets jealous

a brief saga of thegreen eyed monster in peter parker’s life

chapter one

michellespends the night at peter’s apartment more often than not. the apartment is incambridge, so it’s close to her campus and it’s significantly less noisy thather floor in the dorm. plus, it’s nice to spend that time together especially sincethey can’t take all the same classes if they aren’t at the same colleges.frankly, peter’s life off campus has significantly improved since michellestarted partaking in it. she keeps his apartment well stocked with tea, snacks,and deli cuts because peter alwaysforgets to eat and he needs his protein.

so peter isn’ttoo surprised when he comes home to find orchids on the kitchen counter. hethinks they look pretty and seem to match with the rest of the apartment. andif michelle likes them, it’s more than alright with him. “where’d you get theflowers?” he asks when michelle comes out of the bathroom.

“oh, those?”she runs her hands over the petals gently. “my old lab partner got them for me.”she beams. “she said they reminded her of me.”

“the flowers?”peter questions, incredulous. because, really?flowers reminded her of michelle? “isn’t this the same lab partner from freshmanyear who declared her undying love for you at the end of your sciencerequirement?”

“yeah, butthat was two years ago.” michelle smiles down at the flowers before going tothe stove to heat up some water in the kettle (also courtesy of michelle). “wantsome tea?”

peter doesn’tsay anything for a few moments, just looking at her with his eyebrows drawntogether because really? flowers don’tremind you of people!! michelle scoffs, turning back to the tea. “you’re aloser.” but a few seconds later: “I’ll make you chamomile.”

chapter two

peter doesn’tthink about how great other people must find michelle again until a few weeks laterwhen he goes to surprise her after her last class of the day. he bookedreservations at that fancy greek place she’s been wanting to go to for the lastmonth. (so, tony may have helped. but peter’s not too prideful to refuse help towoo his girlfriend.) he waits outside the door as everyone slowly filters outof the classroom. but michelle doesn’t come out.

he peeks hishead in the classroom and a more basal part of him rears its ugly head.michelle is at the front of the classroom, laughing with that one TA he met atthe beginning of the semester. mark hadseemed a little too fond of michelle, considering it had been one week into theclass and she was his student. sopeter does something he will later claim that he would have done on any givenday because michelle is his girlfriend and the love of his life and he’s alwayshappy to see her.

yes, that’s precisely the reason why he walks downto the front of the classroom, wraps his arm around michelle’s waist, andkisses her before turning to mark and extending his hand in greeting. “hello, I’mmj’s boyfriend, peter.”

“I remember.”mark smiles, small and brief. peter keeps his arm around michelle, who doesn’tseem to notice any tension between the two. which is good. the last thing hewants is for his stupid jealousy to affect her in any way. he hates that it’salready affecting his actions because it’s such an old, archaic thing.

but: “I hateto break this up, but michelle, I got us reservations at that greek place youwanted to try.”

“oh mygoodness!” michelle’s face lights up and she grabs his face, kissing himquickly on the mouth. “have I ever told you that I’m in love with you?” petersmiles, dopey and bashful. because: oh mygoodness, she’s in love with me, oh my goodness, this is amazing, oh my goodness.

and then marksays quickly, “I should really get going. lots of papers to grade.” heemphasizes his point by lifting the large stack of papers in his arms. andpeter feels a bit badly now because mark has a long day ahead of him and he andmichelle were really only laughing. peter could have waited outside.

“it wasreally nice seeing you again, mark.” peter lets go of michelle for a moment toshake mark’s free hand. “hope to see you around sometime.” and a part of him istotally lying out of his ass. but a part of him also knows mark has helpedmichelle a lot in this class and made the experience so much easier. so a partof him means it.

but then markis leaving the classroom and michelle grabs his ass and bites his ear and peterdoesn’t really have the brain capacity for anything other than her at thismoment.

chapter three

peter doeshis best to avoid harvard parties. don’t get him wrong. he loves michelle andhe enjoys all the friends she’s made there. they all seem like really cool,really chill people. it’s just…well, whenever peter goes to harvard parties,someone inevitably makes him feel badly about not going to harvard. as if hewasn’t intelligent enough to get in. and he wants to punch them in the facebecause he’s fucking smart and capable and he chose to go to mit and mit’sgreat and he loves the people there and he doesn’t need to be at a school thatwas founded in the seventeenth century to be happy. but it’s usually someasshole dudebro drunk off his ass, so he doesn’t take the swing.

that’s whypeter tries to stay close to michelle whenever they do go to harvard parties.because she hangs out with her friends, who are all not asshole dudebros, andthen peter also gets to spend more time with michelle, which he never complainsabout.

it’s justthat…well…sometimes michelle gets approached at parties. for various reasons bydifferent people. he wants to laugh at the audacity of some people, who justcome up to michelle, as she’s standing right next to peter, and start blatantlyflirting with her and propositioning her. those are funnier and even mj laughsthose ones off. but the ones she can’t laugh off are the people she knows, whopeter can recognize are totally head over heels for michelle jones. because,really, who wouldn’t be?

so when, on aparticular saturday night when it’s a bit too chilly so they all drink more towarm up, one of michelle’s classmates from comparative religion comes up to thepair and promptly ignores peter to start having a conversation with michelle,peter decides it’s the perfect time to rest his arm around her waist. he’llblame it on the need for warmth in this dingy basement. that’s why he pulls hera bit more snug against his side and leans his head over onto her shoulder. helooks at the guy’s (damian’s?) shoes and just smiles, squeezing every so oftenon michelle’s waist so that she’ll twitch and hitch her breath.

and if, whenthey’re sobering up and walking back to peter’s apartment, arms pulling eachother close, peter can’t stop kissing her cheek and her neck and her lips.well, he’ll say it’s because the snow fell in her hair so beautifully that hehad to give her little lovings.

chapter four

peter hasbeen hearing about alicia for aboutsix weeks now. and even though he’s never met her, he knows he dislikes her. which, may be a bit unfair to alicia. but,in his defense, he’s had to hear about how amazing she is every single friday forthe last five weeks. he knows all about thesexy philosophy grad student who leads michelle’s discussions. how everyone’sbasically in love with alicia. how alicia is so well spoken and eloquent and knowledgeable.how alicia’s accent is really sexy. how alicia dresses phenomenally even thoughshe always looks like she’s operating on two hours of sleep. how alicia pays somuch attention to detail and questions them all on each word they use toexplain something. peter knows far too much about alicia for his liking.

when michellecomes back from discussion on a friday in late january telling peter all abouteverything alicia said today, peter can’t take it. so he walks up to mj andkisses her so that she’s quiet. but then michelle’s hand goes to his ass andshe’s pulling him closer and then peter is stumbling backward and leading totwo of them to their his bed. clothes disappear and then peter’s betweenher thighs for the next twenty minutes, eating her out like it’s his last meal,until she’s crying out his name andpulling at his hair. when she sighsand pulls him back up for a kiss, he doesn’t let any of that go and soon she’sscratching at his back until it’s raw and he fucks her a bit more passionatelythat he usually does. but after they’re done, mj just chuckles a little andasks, incredulous and a bit breathy, “where the fuck did that come from?”

peter givesher a peck on the lips and says the first thing that comes to mind. “it’s theone week anniversary of the perfect score you got on your essay.”

she laughs,shoving at his shoulder. “god,  you’resuch a loser, sometimes.”

“didn’t seemlike it just a while ago.” he smirks, and she pulls him into a kiss to get himto shut up for once.

chapter five

it all comesto a head when they’re shopping together at the target near his apartment. they’rewalking through the aisles, laughing about who knows what when peter sees a guyshopping a ways away, staring at michelle every couple of seconds. something inpeter’s chest flutters and he puts his hand in the back pocket of her jeans. mjgives him a funny look but doesn’t say anything because she probably thinksthis is him being dorky because they watched stranger things before they camehere and this was totally an 80s fad.

but thenpeter takes it too far when he notices the guy staring a bit too long for peterto be comfortable and so he squeezes her ass a bit. and michelle jumps andyelps, turning around quickly and looking at him in shock. peter blushesferociously and pulls his hand away like he’s been burned because he did not just do that. he’s absolutely mortifiedand worried he’s screwed this up. but then mj laughs and slides her hand intohis back pocket, pinching his ass tightly and smirking.

peter smiles,slipping his hand back into her pocket and then they’re walking like that throughthe store like bozos but they don’t care because it’s hilarious and they get totouch each other’s asses. when they get back home, peter lifts mj into the airand spins her around and she shrieks in laughter. they tickle each other and wrestle,but peter manages to pin michelle down on the floor, his arms trapping hersabove her head. she lets out a quick breath and manages to ask, “why are youbeing so handsy today?” a smirk. “not that I’m complaining.”

peter palesand he releases her arm, leaning back slightly. they always try to be honestwith each other, so he gulps and whispers out, “because I’m an animal who can’tcontrol my jealous urges?”

mj is silentfor a few moments and peter’s absolutely positive he’s screwed everything upand she’s going to tell him, rightfully so, how jealousy is archaic and about possession.but then she laughs and pulls him down to kiss him smack on the mouth. when hepulls back, a bit dazed, she smiles. “good, I was worried I was the only one.”and…what? peter’s jaw drops andmichelle grabs his jaw with her hands, moving it side to side. “we’re onlyhuman, you dork. everyone gets jealous now and again.” she kisses him once more.“let’s just promise to talk about it if it starts to become a problem, yeah?”

peter nodsquickly, a smile growing on his face along with his blush. and then he leansdown, bites her ear, and whispers all the dirty things he’s going to do to her.michelle just blushes and smacks his ass.

a short listof things peter will never stop loving

being with michelle jones, who is incrediblypatient with him, which is good because he’s probably gonna marry this girl

[frontporchlit]

One Poem a Day

The following is the second in our weekly series in January on writing resolutions in 2018 and how the writing industry has changed us. I'm writing a poem a day in 2018. I accomplished this back in 2014, and kept the practice going halfway into 2015. Most of those scribbles were crap: some were single lines to be fleshed out later, others were collections of images, and others still were ‘complete’ the way a first attempt at woodblock carving or marble sculpting may be complete. I don't remember most of those creations, and I can't say I'm proud of them.

Still, I was able to experience what Mary Oliver calls the "passionate relationship" between poet and Muse: "a kind of possible love affair between something like the heart (that courageous but also shy factory of emotion) and the learned skills of the conscious mind."

I was working a dead-end-of-the-soul job, putting together insurance coverage for companies in Austin, which provided me a steady paycheck and, more important to my artistry, a steady lunch hour. From noon to one p.m., Monday through Friday, I would spend twenty minutes eating, another ten walking out to a water-filled quarry to find a place to sit, and about twenty minutes writing. Most of the time, those cabals were between me and my pen and paper. But as the seasons changed and I found my favored spots along the rocky cliffs, my Muse began to show up.

It wasn't like a quickie at lunchtime, with an explosive ending and a great sense of immediate satisfaction. It was more like a gentle reminder of presence, like a partner who swings by your work just to eat that meal with you. The fruit of this labor behaved as fruit should: growing slowly day-by-day, drop by dewy, evanescent drop.

At times, good work was done in those twenty minutes. Most of the time, even with my Muse beside me, mediocre work was done. But each day, and especially on days when I struggled to come up with anything, sharpening was happening.

I know this because now, in 2018, I can remember the frustration of trying to come up with something at all worthwhile to write, or which tools to use to work around that issue.

Here are five I’ve since discovered/heard which I know will be helpful to me during the inevitable doldrums of 2018:

     - Steal/borrow a first line from another poem, as a starting point (I got it from Kathleen Peirce; only she knows where she got it from)

     - Do a homophonic translation of Pindar, or Neruda, or Szymborska, or Kipling (from Cecily Parks, who got it (in part, anyway) from Charles Bernstein

     - Set a timer for ten minutes and write a list poem, or stream words onto the page (from Ada Limón)

     - Take a draft of a previous poem and re-write it backwards, beginning with the last line

     - Grab a book of poetic forms and pick a new one to try

I'll fail to write on some days, and then I'll try to fill in the gaps by writing two or four poems or however many it takes to make up the loss and get back to even. This isn't about perfection; it's about practice.

I had a teacher once who said a writer is only a writer if they write every day. I hated him for that and disagreed, but couldn't find a good footing for my position. In 2016 I realized that I'm the only person who can write what I can write, and so it's existentially up to me alone to bring my art into the world.

But that realization did not lead to commitment. I was busy with grad school, I was busy with teaching, I was busy dating, I was busy playing the trumpet.

Then another realization happened in late 2017: all of those things I was busying myself with will either pass away or become so present as to be manageable. Grad school will be over before I know it’s happened. Teaching is my career, so if I want to write I need to find a path that coincides with that. Hopefully I’ll still be loving and in love and doing the whole love business with a person who loves and loves me and is in love with me, and hell, if poetry teaches us anything, it’s that it is for love. And the trumpet . . . well maybe in 2019.

To build up writerly muscles; to romance my Muse; to get the words out of my mysterious machine and onto the page; to try various styles and subjects; and to write what only I can write—these are some of the reasons I'll be writing a poem each day of 2018. And good luck, bonne chance, and wellsprings of words for you also, whatever your goals may be.

Wade Martin has been taking poetry seriously for seven years. His most recent publication is an ekphrastic poem for Jim Bones' Echoes Off a Canyon Wall: Images of the Western Cordillera.

[nicolekidmanwigfactory]

Do EVERY musical theatre ask

I hate you because I answer in paragraphs but I love you because this will take me forever and I have all night

1. What was the first musical you saw?

I’m having trouble remembering. Not counting animated Disney movies, I guess the Sound of Music for movie musicals and my grade school’s production of Godspell when I was in kindergarten. I had no idea what the show was about I was obsessed with “Bless the Lord.”

2. What musical got you really  into theatre?

In high school, I was an editor of my senior class’ student-written musical parody of the school. At the end of junior year, we’d sketched out the plot and over the summer about 6-7 groups of ten people each wrote their assigned scenes, song parodies, etc. At the start of August, I was chosen, along with one other student, by our director (one of the English teachers) to basically take these collections of scenes and songs and make them into a cohesive, workable show, which included rewriting lines, deleting jokes, etc. We’d meet weekly at the teacher’s house and go over the drafts, consider his input, but the creative control was ultimately ours. 

One of the teachers, who’d been there for more than 25 years and seen every senior production in her time, said the entire show was the second best she’d seen. During awards night, the director told us this show was one of his favorites he’d directed. But working on this show left me obsessed with theatre in general, something I never had much interest in before. I was attracted to musical theatre in particular because I thought the songs selected to be parodied for the show were the weakest part of the show, so I guess I started listening to cast albums to search for songs in an effort to subconsciously fix what I thought to be errors. I did that for prolly the first year after the show.

I told you I answer in paragraphs.

3. Who was your first Broadway crush?

I don’t really get crushes, so I don’t have a first one. When I fall, but I fall hard; it’s not crush area. But I’m a horny person and who I’m attracted to seems to come in phases and right now and I’m very attracted to Brandon Uranowitz and (which came as a total shock to me) Andrew Rannells.

4. Name three of your current Broadway crushes.

Brandon Uranowitz, Andrew Rannells, Jeanine Tesori (she’s a woman but she is GLAM)

5. Name four of your dream roles.

I’ve never had a real desire to perform but I guess Madame Armfeldt, Amy, Phyllis Stone (if I get to sing Ah, But Underneath), Joanne. What can I say, Sondheim’s women are more fun to sing than any role meant for a man.

6. Favourite off-broadway show:

i don’t distinguish between between on and off-Broadway

7. Favourite cast recording.

1970 Company Original Cast Recording. The gold standard for cast recordings in general.

8. 2013 Tony opening number or 2016 Tony opening number?

I honestly don’t remember either and don’t care enough to look them up.

9. Favourite show currently on Broadway.

none of them really speak to me right now, so...Hello Dolly! because I like the score most?

10. A musical that closed and you’re still bitter about. Rant a bit.

Fun Home. 

11. Best stage to screen adaptation?

West Side Story. Steve is wrong when he kvetches about the movie’s switching the places of “Cool” and “Gee, Officer Krupke.” THEIR LEADER JUST GOT KILLED WHY ARE THEY JOKING IT MAKES MORE SENSE TO PLAY COOL THAN TO JOKE AROUND. i’d prefer if the songs were also in that order on stage as well. They already get their moment of post-intermission levity with “I Feel Pretty.” “Gee, Officer Krupke” in Act 2 is excessive. The movie fixes this mistake.

12. Worst  stage to screen adaptation?

I haven’t really seen all that many movie musicals. I don’t know if I would call it the worst but I absolutely hated the Les Mis movie but I don’t know if it’s because i find the show itself over the top or if it was the movie itself

13. Favourite #ham4ham?

never seen them

14. A musical you would love to see produced by Deaf West?

Fun Home. I think having actors who are Deaf parallel the lesbian themes in the show would be a unique take on the show’s portrayal closetedness and parental/child relationships...if that makes sense. it does in my head

15. If you could revive any musical, which one would it be and who would you cast in it?

Assuming it meets all my other requirements, Candide. I don’t have any ideas for who to play whom, but casting must be colorblind, age appropriate, and match the vocal requirements.

16. If you could go to a concert at the 54 below, who’s would it be?

Barbara Cook

17. Do you watch broadway.com vlogs? Which one is your favourite?

Nope.

18. Make a broadway related confession.

I don’t let others know just how much I enjoy the theatre because I don’t want to come off as one of the theatre kids you hated in high school (but secretly admired for their confidence).

19. What do musicals mean to you?

This question is so corny I refuse to answer it.

20. Express some love for understudies and swings!

Danny I just want to be done with this. You do good work understudies and swings. you’re not appreciated enough and when you do go on it’s to the disappointment of the audience who was expecting someone else so good job dealing with that already tough situation to begin with.

21. Best Disney musical:

I’m going based off of the movies and to this I answer Lion King. I liked the stage version when I saw the tour but the movie as a musical is so satisfying and impossible to improve upon (though Shadowland and He Lives in You are great additions)

22. Which Disney movie should be made into a musical?

none. keep them as movies. broadway’s already getting pandering enough

23. Which musical fandom has the funniest memes?

PASSION

24. Name a character from a musical you would sort into your Hogwarts house.

I’m a Ravenclaw according to Pottermore so give me Madame Armfeldt.

25. Name a Broadway star you would sort into your Hogwarts house.

Stephen Sondheim

26. Best on stage chemistry?

Patti LuPone and the scenery

27. A Broadway duo you love.

@jasonrobertclown and @kayleefabulous

28. What book, tv show, movie, biography, video game, etc. should be turned into a musical?

HOWARDS END HOWARDS END HOWARDS END HOWARDS END

29. If you could make a jukebox musical, what artist or genre would you pick?

no

30. Favourite role played by _________________?

Angela Lansbury. Mrs. Iselin in The Manchurian Candidate. It’s not a stage role but she’s a stage legend and it’s my favorite role of hers.

31. What musical has made you cry the most?

I don’t cry at movies or books or anything, so none.

32. What musical has made you laugh the most?

It’s not Steve’s best score by any means, but A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum is a fucking laugh riot but thankfully, the strength of the show is its book. 

33. Current showtune stuck in you head:

I’ve been mourning the death of Barbara Cook and her “Will I Ever Tell You” from The Music Man is one I’ve been listening to a lot the past two days. It’s lovely and keeps popping back into my head.

34. A musical that has left you thinking about life for a long time or deeply inspired you.

Bridge of Madison County was a show that affected me more than I expected and I think it was because I had just put in my notice for my teaching job so I could return to grad school. The show was entirely about choice and consequence and that was what I was taking from it.

35. If you could perform any ensemble number , which one would you pick?

I wouldn’t. I am a star. 

36. Name a musical you didn’t like at first but ended up loving.

A Little Night Music.

37. What are some customes you’d love to try on?

I don’t really have any.

38. Favourite dance break.

this dance break from “The Story of Lucy and Jessie” in the original production of Follies. It’s Bennett’s best work and even better than the sublime work he did on “Who’s that Woman”

39. Favourite Starkid musical:

don’t have one

40. What’s a musical more people should know about?

Nine

41. What are some lines from musicals you really like?

Basically everything Regina Resnik’s Madame Armfeldt says

42. Name a Tony performance you rewatch and rewatch.

Ring of Keys

[gretagerwigarchive]

Greta Gerwig & Joe Swanberg: The Penny-Pinching Future of Indie Cinema

By Steve Dollar  |  March 2, 2009 

source: https://www.pastemagazine.com/articles/2009/03/greta-gerwig-joe-swanberg-the-penny-pinching-futur.html

There’s low-budget guerrilla filmmaking and then there’s low-budget guerrilla filmmaking. Greta Gerwig, the 25-year-old star of indie-cinema micro-faves such as Hannah Takes the Stairs, Nights and Weekends and Baghead, recalls an inspiring moment during a visit home to her native California. Making an overnight stop at a motel in Santa Barbara, she flipped through the TV channels until she was stopped cold by something on the local public-access station. There, she discovered a very curious action flick called The Pharaoh Project.

“It was beyond amazing,” Gerwig says, her cadence by turns hesitant and headlong, as she recalls the insane saga about an elite squad of legendary warriors (Genghis Khan! Alexander the Great!) reincarnated to wreak havoc on the modern world. Really, it was like the director and his beefiest bouncer buddies were trying to create a Steven Seagal sci-fi/action epic on a PBR budget. “The most official-looking car they could get their hands on was a cream-colored Toyota 4Runner, but they played it like it was an FBI armored vehicle.

     Gerwig, a Barnard-schooled playwright, screenwriter and director, has won glowing reviews for her comedic acting skills, mostly channeled into fetchingly flaky characters as romantically befuddled as befuddling. But even if the Los Angeles Times calls her “an ingénue for the text-message set,” and even if she’s about to start shooting John C. Reilly in her next feature, she still shares a nothing-fancy Williamsburg pad with a roommate. Make fun of The Pharaoh Project all you want. Gerwig won’t. “I just kept watching because there was so much there to admire,” she says. “It isn’t that far removed from the kind of movies I’ve made. The ‘let’s just go do it’ attitude. We’re interested in different things. I’m interested in the million tiny deaths that occur in everyday human interactions, and they’re interested in sweet-ass roundhouse kicks. But the motivation to make something is similar.”

Along with her friend and sometime collaborator Joe Swanberg, 27, Gerwig is one of the most prolific characters in a new wave of young filmmakers lighting up the indie landscape. The past few years have seen the arrival of a slew of talented, original directors who have thrived despite—and sometimes because of—miniscule budgets and improvised means: The list includes the Duplass brothers (Baghead), Aaron Katz (Dance Party, USA; Quiet City), Todd Rohal (The Guatemalan Handshake), Ron Bronstein (Frownland), Mary Bronstein (Yeast), Craig Zobel (Great World of Sound), Ry Russo-Young (Orphans, You Won’t Miss Me), Frank V. Ross (Hohokam, Present Company), Kentucker Audley (Team Picture), Jeff Nichols (Shotgun Stories) and Andrew Bujalski (Funny Ha Ha, Mutual Appreciation).

Early on, Bujalski’s sound mixer, Eric Masunaga jokingly referred to one of the films as “mumblecore,” and the label stuck for a while. It was catchy, and spoke to the indie-rock flavor of efforts like Swanberg’s LOL, in which urban post-grads stumble in and out of relationships, bands and poorly furnished apartments, endlessly discussing feelings they can’t always articulate. The use of consumer-grade handheld digital-video cameras, spontaneous dialogue and casts comprised mostly of other budding directors are also common tendencies, although by no means exclusively so. Katz gives his actors scripts. Bronstein, who co-starred with his wife Mary in the Swanberg-shot Web series Butterknife, works in 16mm. So does Zobel. Not everyone digs Final Cut software. In other words, these filmmakers are hardly clones—but they have more in common with one another than they do with everyone else.

This movement, as such, has branched out as Swanberg and his peers have begun to mature after years of film festivals such as Austin’s annual SXSW, which became a flourishing seedbed for the movement around 2005.

“The technology changed in the mid-to-late ’90s,” Swanberg says, giving his socio-cultural analysis as he takes a chair next to Gerwig in a photographer’s studio near the Manhattan Port Authority. It’s a brittle winter evening after a day of hiking around bleak locales in upstate New York, where the pair posed as Depression-era vagabonds—even as all-too-real panhandlers proliferate on the streets outside. “The resolution got better, and the Internet allowed social networking to happen like it hadn’t before. The threat of the actors strike in 2001 that paved the way for a lot of reality TV to hit the mainstream made a huge impact on the way mass audiences perceived handheld video. Because they got used to watching it, all in one year, with Survivor and every other show that came along shot in a run-and-gun style on a small camera.”

It wasn’t long before young filmmakers hit the festival circuit with their own low-budget projects, though, as Swanberg notes, “A bunch of celebrities had to make movies on [digital video] to legitimize it. Ethan Hawke had to make one, and Richard Linklater and Robert Rodriguez. Jennifer Jason Leigh and Alan Cumming made The Anniversary Party, and everyone said it was cool, and even then it took a lot longer.”

Swanberg began shooting so-called “webisodes” in 2005 with Young American Bodies, a series for the erotically minded Nerve.com, which reflected the diaristic—OK, blog-like—intimacy of his features. “This whole idea of exposing very personal inner thoughts to a general public whether they wanted it or not seemed really crazy five years ago,” he says. “But it was around the same time that these smaller movies started to do something similar: I’ll tell my story and my friend’s story. If it plays festivals and people see it, great, and if it doesn’t, it still exists. I made my first two movies for less than 3,000 bucks.”

That vow of insularity can’t stick forever, though. Swanberg’s new film, Alexander the Last premieres March 14 at SXSW and, on the same day, becomes available by demand on IFC, as part of its Festival Direct series. The idea, Swanberg explains, is to make the film broadly accessible while it’s still playing festivals, and not wait for interest to fade. “The way people are watching stuff is changing,” he says. “If I don’t start putting these movies out very quickly they will start backing up on each other. Theatrical distribution doesn’t make sense anymore.”

Benten Films, a DVD outfit run by two film critics—Andrew Grant of FilmBrain.com and Aaron Hillis of GreenCine.com—has done an impressive job of packaging and promoting work by Swanberg and fellow indie upstarts like Audley, Rohal and Katz. But it’s not easy. “There aren’t enough distributors to go around,” Hillis says. “If you’re an independent filmmaker there are not a lot of options out there. There’s no more middle class. It’s just a matter of time before it becomes either The Dark Knight or mumblecore, with nothing in between.”

If that’s the case, Swanberg’s work doesn’t suffer from a smaller screen. Alexander—a slender (72 minutes) but quietly observant drama that says as much with silence as with its improvised dialogue—is lucky to have an irresistible center of gravity in Jess Weixler (Teeth), a rising star whose face is a delicate map of feeling. About nothing if not process, the film charts the keenly attenuated emotional swings of Alex, a young actress drawn to her handsome co-star Jamie (Barlow Jacobs) while her rock-musician husband is on the road. To further complicate matters, she has introduced the fresh-from-Kentucky Jamie to her older sister Hellen (Amy Seimetz), who actually engages in the fling Alex and Jamie pretend to have onstage. The milieu may not be too far away from the tempest-in-a-beer-can angst of The Real World, but the spirit is much closer to the bedroom intimacies of the French New Wave. Yet, even if Swanberg’s actors are at home with casual nudity and candid couplings, their journeys of self-discovery are not linked to a larger political or philosophical agenda. They prefer singing their own songs and tinkering on thriftshop keyboards to dropping postmodern allusions to art and cinema. Their point is not to be clever, but to be honest. The film also broadens Swanberg’s professional circle. Jane Adams (Happiness) takes a small but key role, and Brooklyn filmmaker Noah Baumbach (The Squid and the Whale), for whom Swanberg has been working as a cameraman and assistant director, helped produce when another project failed to jell. Likewise, the Duplass brothers, whose ambitions skew more mainstream, have cast John C. Reilly, Marisa Tomei and Jonah Hill for their next comedy. And Reilly also takes the lead in Gerwig and collaborator Alison Bagnall’s Funny Bunny.

“There’s an audience now, and I’m wanting things I didn’t want before,” Swanberg says. “I want to shoot in other cities now, and I want to shoot in HD. I want to rent apartments, and I want sailboats and all these other elements. But before, I was content with a few people in a room.”

Gerwig—who spent the past year racking up performances in neo-grindhouse genre flicks like Ti West’s House of the Devil and a non-mumblecore indie in which Iggy Pop plays her dad—has a good laugh about her efforts to go Hollywood. “I’ve made a bunch of audition tapes,” she says. “I start cracking up because I can’t get through the scenes. Some of them, I have to cry and say things in Southern accents.” She drifts into her best Scarlett O’Hara: “Johnny did not kill that bay-buh! I killed it! Because I hated it!” Nonetheless, the actress confesses, sure, “I’d love to be the girl in the dinosaur movie.” Well, OK, maybe a movie with little plastic dinosaurs.

Gerwig says she was astonished to learn that the guys who made Cloverfield are fans. “The woman who casts Gossip Girl loves Aaron Katz. What!? But maybe I’m not supposed to say that. The number of people who are around watching you out of the corner of their eye is amazing.”

Swanberg—whose output has increased since he brought on Anish Savjani (Wendy and Lucy) as a producer—won’t likely be taking on any Cloverfield sequels, even with his handheld-video skills. If his films don’t make money, he’ll still shoot. “It’s a compulsion for me,” says Swanberg, who also finds time to continue acting in his friends’ movies, shooting Web projects and helping his wife, Kris Williams, with both her filmmaking and burgeoning gourmet-ice-cream business. “It’s not like I started doing it because I was good at it. Nor is it that I continue to do it because I’m good at it. I do it because I can’t help it, and I don’t know what else to do. I already know there will be a period when I will make 10 of them that nobody sees or likes or writes about. But the reason why I will continue through that period that nobody cares is not because they will care again but because I can’t help it. It’s selfish. I’m making these things for me.”

[gleefail]

Glee Memories: 1x15 The Power of Madonna

A long, long time ago, as Glee was approaching graduation in Season 3, I found myself nostalgic with some rare free time on my hands. So I decided to rewatch the series from the beginning and jot down some memories, discrepancies that have arisen since, fave quotes, tally solos - all that good stuff, strictly for shits and giggles.

8 years later (eek!) and once more I find myself with an unexpected abundance of free time. With so many revisiting or being newly introduced to the show between binge watching during Quarantine and all the tragedy that has surrounded the show since it went off the air, I figured I’d finish what I started. And by finish, I mean go through the end of S3. Cause I truly cannot acknowledge what happened after that. Except for 5B.

Kicking this off by reposting the first 15 episodes I already went through. Enjoy!

1x15 The Power of Madonna heeee, Sue just referenced Desperately Seeking Susan. Man, I loved that movie as a kid. Who’s That Girl as well anybody remember that one?!

hahaha, how have I never noticed before that Quinn is drawing a picture of Rachel Berry…a very unflattering picture that says “LOSER”? Awesome.

hahaha. Jesse and Rachel ‘hypothetically’ went to a Wiggles concert. Seriously, he’s kinda perfect for her.

Aw – The Montage from A Chorus Line is playing under Jesse’s pressure-her-into-sex moment. I have such fond memories of that song. I was featured in this song for a show that ended up changing the course of my entire life, quite literally. :)

“Would you please stop talking? You’re grossing out my baby.”

“But I can’t wait to get a guy mad at me for saying ‘no’.” Bite your tongue, Mercedes. Also…be careful what you wish for.

Still creeps me out that they have this whole sex talk with Mr. Schue in the room. And that he eavesdrops. And that when he speaks up it’s to ask if they’re having that much ‘guy trouble’, not to actually be a good teacher and help Rachel out in her “my boyfriend’s pressuring me to have sex but I’m not ready” situation or to respond to Britany and Santana’s advice to just never say no and that they should have more self-respect…teacher of the year indeed.

Do women really still earn 70 cents to every dollar a man does for the same job? Oh, eff that!

More Emma pamphlets:                HELP! I’m in love with my stepdad!                I still breastfeed …but how old is too old?                Congratulations, you’re pregnant.                Proper Wiping: Easy as 1…2…3                …and something about Toxic Shock Syndrome and Asperger’s that I                can’t read, lol.

Ugh, douche. Will just said this area of expertise (sex) is Emma’s blindspot. Jerk.

So Glee seems to have a knack for insulting folks that will later be guest stars. Gwyneth Paltrow and John Stamos have been mentioned thus far, and Lindsay Lohan just made the list. Hmmm…

I love the Ann Coultier jab. Cause I despise that ‘woman’

Ray of Light routine on stilts. Still leaves me speechless.  My favorite part is still when the men on stilts do these assisted lifts with women who are not. They get them so effing high.  It’s just amazing.

“Somehere on the English countryside in a stately manor home, Madonna is weeping.”

“Hall of fame MILF”

HA! Artie’s look in response to Tina giving him side-eye. Too funny.

Finn has no idea what misogynistic means. #BlessFinnsHeart

Kurt is gonna do a video of Madonna’s styles. With Mercedes. Kurtcedes love. :)

Yeah, I find it hard to believe high school boys wouldn’t be rubbin’ one out at these girls in corsets, touchin’ themselves and bein’ a little S&M with one another. Even if they hate Madonna with a passion. Their disinterest is completely unrealistic.

Britany has a (younger presumably as she plays soccer with a 7 year old) sister. Forgot about that. I think RIB did too.

The way to get a man forever is to take his virginity? Really? I would think that would unleash him into a sexual awakening and sleeping with everything he could now that he wouldn’t be perceived as ‘lame’ or a loser or whatever for being a virgin…no?

Finnocence. Nice.

Can we acknowledge that Finn lost his virginity in a plot for Santana to snag a younger man (by what, 4 days I think she said?) to emulate Madonna per Sue and not get kicked off the Cheerios? That’s…just so sad.

“You’re about as sexy as a Cabbage Patch Kid.” – ha!

So…watching this post-Nationals, does Emma get to have Madonna playing in her office now? ;)

Finn’s pissed that Rachel lied to him and didn’t really break it off with Jesse. Evs. Mind ya business, Finn.

So because he’s jealous or his ego is hurt or whatever, Finn tells Rachel if her and Jesse leads to something bad for the entire Glee club not to expect anymore friendship from him. Um…yeah. I’d marry him a year or two later. Cause…clearly he’ll be there through rough times…douche. Selfish, childish douche.

I still really like this mash-up of Borderline/Open Your Heart. And as much as I don’t love Finchel, the angst in this is my cup o’ tea. I like it.

I do love all the Madonna shout-outs in the hallway. Makes me feel old that I recognize each of these looks. Oy.

Finn, why are you just randomnly tearing books from the shelves and knocking them to the floor as you walk through the library? Such a badass…

I was watching an episode of Gilmore Girls and Brad was the piano player for one of Emily Gilmore’s parties (I think Rory’s college grad party). Hilarious. Also, he looked EXACTLY the same. How long ago was that?!

I find it awesome that Mercedes has a picture of a gal from So You Think You Can Dance in her locker. I love that show.

Up With People rejects. Ha.

Hmm. Will is suddenly not intimidated at all by Sue and her quips. What brought that on? Although, it’s hot when he stands up to her. Until he makes fun of her hair. Then he seems like a jerk.

“Oh, snap!” I love this moment. And the gif that came out of it.

Birth moment of the Sue, Kurt, Mercedes dynamic right there. Yay. :)

Sue just told Kurt and Mercedes about her sister being handicapped. I don’t care what anyone says, she likes them, even just a little bit. And I love this dynamic of the three of them. It always makes me smile.

Hahaha – Kurt’s reaction to Sue not being able to keep up with the latest looks when she was younger. Hilarious.

“Mercedes is black. I’m gay. We make culture.”

“I picked the Stephen Sondheim biography section for our clandestine meeting because only he can express my melonchalia.”

“You deserve epic romance.” Listen. Looking back from the end of Season 3, I really am not understanding why I’m supposed to want Rachel with Finn. Jesse makes so much more sense.

“Foreplay shall begin at 7:30 sharp.” Oh Emma. A for effort.

Vogue. Man. I was so little when this came out. I remember when it premiered on MTV.

Jane Lynch has such long legs. I’m jealous.

“Will Schuester. I hate you.”

Like A Virgin still makes me really uncomfortable. For so many reasons. I just…don’t need to see this side of any of these characters. I feel like a voyeur.

How did Santana and Finn swing a motel room at 15 years old? Hmm….

Add Whoopi to that list of joked about future guest stars. Yeesh…that’s 5 now? 4? Stamos, Paltrow, Lohan and Goldberg.

Sue is gonna reinvent Kurt and Mercedes. Squee!

Why is Rachel looking at sheet music for Where Is Love? Cause 1. I hate that song, 2. I hate that show, and 3. shoutout to the pilot?

Finn just asked Rachel how her date with Jesse went. With the subtext of “did you sleep with him?” WHY are they even talking about this? I don’t get it. It’s private Finn, so rude you’d even ask. Also, how does he even know they are even close to sex? I missed something. This is so weird. Made even more weird that neither of them seems to think it’s weird that they’re having this conversation. Ugh.

“Just come out so we can talk. Or sing about it.” Jesse is ridiculously perfect for Rachel Berry.

Okay, I’m gonna rant for a second: I know I’m anal and put him on a pedestal and all, but S3, they make it sound like Sam had sex with one of his clients at the strip club; after they’ve shoved super-romantic in-love-with-Mercedes Sam at us for like, 9 episodes in a row over a span of like, 3 or 4 months; regardless of how I personally feel about that or that ship, right now we see a super uncomfortable scene that still breaks my heart where Finn is dealing with the aftermath of sleeping with Santana, when he has feelings for someone else, but more in that he doesn’t have feelings for her, therefore it didn’t mean anything and it’s clearly not sitting well with him. Regret is all over his face. It’s so sad. So…why did they do the same thing but expect it to be okay in S3 regarding Sam (but even more gross cause of the whole stripper/client aspect)? Eff you, Glee.

I feel like this might be the most real and vulnerable I’ve ever seen Santana (in the post-coital conversation with Finn in the motel room bed). I mean…a couple moments may rival it, but it’s definitely top 5 if not top 3. It’s so sad to see how she really feels about this aspect of her life that publicly she seems so proud of and invincible to. Man. Poor Santana.

Um…is Puck playing Ninja in the background or just being a human statue or something? It doesn’t look like anyone is playing with him, so it must be the latter? Random.

Something changed in the way I felt about Glee after this episode, now that I look back on it. I felt like I should’ve left this episode feeling like “wow – they’re ballsy and go against the grain! They’ll do the unexpected” but…instead I was left with a feeling of “do I trust these writers with these people I’ve come to care about?” I’m referring to the possibility of consummation with 3 couples, 2 of which would have seemed…not completely unhealthy and one that obviously was…and they had those 2 chicken out and consummated the 1 that just shouldn’t have because it was kind of an irresponsible message to send to the youngins watching this show who they say at times they speak to when they write things like Kurt’s gay storyline or about being an outcast but finding a group that understands you and being happy with who you are. But here I’m sure they’d say something about how they’re not role models and shouldn’t be emulated. Yeah. This was the beginning of the end of my true love for Glee and the beginning of me just loving certain characters and occasional episodes or storylines…the beginning of my love to hate Glee. Whee. :/

It’s cute that Will polished Emma’s shoes. :)

I know a lot of people think it’s condescending and all, but I think the way Will handles suggesting counseling etc. to Emma was nice. There’s something mature about it. I think it’s that he’s like “we need to take action to work through our issues or they’re not gonna go away” as a team. It was nice.

“What the hell? It seems like now people are doing things JUST to hurt my feelings!” Ok, so maybe Finn IS more perfect for Rachel than I thought. Selfish little man-child.

Jesse St. James just joined New Directions. Kurt is pissed cause it means he’ll have no chance at a solo. Mercedes mentions that they only trot her out at the end of songs to wail on the last note, how is that okay? Truth.com. Also, why were those two issues NEVER addressed by Will? They were put out there, they were true as hell, and they were just ignored. Teacher of the year indeed.

Santana points out that obvs Jesse is a spy. Mr. Schue sticks up for Jesse and lets him join. Yet Rachel wasn’t allowed to date him cause that would be bad for the Glee club? #WTF?

“Mr. Schue, is he your son?”

“Okay, from the top!”  

4 Minutes. Seriously, I never thought Chris Colfer was hot before I saw this song. But let’s be real – he is hot as fuck in this song, I still think so. It was the first time I noticed as well that boy had grown into a little man! When did THAT happen? Wasn’t he just a baby-faced nugget like, 3 episodes before this?

Also, I love both of the vocals for them on this song.

Ok. This still pisses me off (can you tell this is an ep that started my rage towards Glee? Lol): Emma, Mr. Schue and Rachel are all distraught and shocked when they see that Mercedes and Kurt have joined the Cheerios…WHY? Britany and Santana are already on the Cheerios and in Glee and it’s fine. Quinn was. Why is this such a betrayal? They didn’t QUIT ND to join the Cheerios. And isn’t Rachel in like, 16 clubs in addition to Glee? Puck, Finn, Mike and Matt are on the football team. Artie has jazz band and AV club. Mercedes and Kurt and Tina are the only ones who are ONLY in Glee Club. This is stupid.

Shot of Quinn who is happy as a pig in shit for the two of them. THANK YOU Quinn for having sense and being a cool person and good friend.

“You guys could’ve at least given me a heads up.” “You mean, the same you way you gave us a heads up before NOT giving us a solo almost every week?” PREACH!!

You expect me to believe that the sexuality of Express Yourself, Artie working on that kick-ass Vogue video, or that amazing performance of 4 Minutes didn’t sway the boys to like Madonna…but their shitty rendition of “What It Feels Like For A Girl” did? Fuck you, Glee. I’m not an idiot. Stop treating me like one.

Why is Kurt a part of this lesson on treating the girls with respect? 1. He’s into Madonna, so he doesn’t need to be converted. 2. He’s NOT treating the girls like garbage. Teacher of the year indeed.

“I think we’re gonna need a new baritone cause Finn would like to become Finnessa”

“My growing feminism will cut you in half like a righteous blade of equality.”

Kurt mentions he’s an honorary girl. Again, WHY is he a part of this lesson?

AW. It just broke my heart a little that Tina said to Artie “why would you propose when you don’t even like me?” Aw. Poor Tina.

Alright, I admit, I love that whoever wrote this ep finally ended this nonsense with Finn being all pissed at Rachel for dating Jesse like she did something wrong and made him realize why she was even single to be pursued by Jesse in the first place. Kudos…whoever you are cause they didn’t credit the writer or director on this ep (the fuck?).

“Sing off. The parking lot. 5:00. Be there.” “No…”

“Frankly, I need you. I’m tired of carrying the male vocals all by myself.” Oh, FUCK. YOU. Finn! (I say on behalf of Kurt, Artie, and Puck).

Kurt just sang his first itty bitty solo in Glee club and then before Mercedes starting singing he ran up and gave her a peck on the cheek. Oh my God, I love them.

Gospel choir. So. Effing. Random. Yet so. Effing. EPIC.

SOLOS: Rachel (4), Mercedes (3), Finn (3), Emma (1), Santana (1), Will (1), Jesse (1), Kurt (2)