#it's like getting hit with a truck twice in a row for me personally

[shiraishi--kanade]

[sharkchanic]

You've taken our homes, schools, hospitals! This is all we have! And it's on sale?! I'm getting to the bottom of this. I'm getting to the bottom of all of this! Hey, Hector. - You almost done? - Almost. He is here. I sense it. Well, I guess I'll go home now and just leave this nice honey out, with no one around. You're busted, box boy! I knew I heard something. So you can talk! I can talk. And now you'll start talking! Where you getting the sweet stuff? Who's your supplier? I don't understand. I thought we were friends. The last thing we want to do is upset bees! You're too late! It's ours now! You, sir, have crossed the wrong sword! You, sir, will be lunch for my iguana, Ignacio! Where is the honey coming from? Tell me where! Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms! Crazy person! What horrible thing has happened here? These faces, they never knew what hit them. And now they're on the road to nowhere! Just keep still. What? You're not dead? Do I look dead? They will wipe anything that moves. Where you headed? To Honey Farms. I am onto something huge here. I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff. Blows your head off! I'm going to Tacoma. - And you? - He really is dead. All right. Uh-oh! - What is that?! - Oh, no! - A wiper! Triple blade! - Triple blade? Jump on! It's your only chance, bee! Why does everything have to be so doggone clean?! How much do you people need to see?! Open your eyes! Stick your head out the window! From NPR News in Washington, I'm Carl Kasell. But don't kill no more bugs! - Bee! - Moose blood guy!! - You hear something? - Like what? Like tiny screaming. Turn off the radio. Whassup, bee boy? Hey, Blood. Just a row of honey jars, as far as the eye could see. Wow! I assume wherever this truck goes is where they're getting it. I mean, that honey's ours. - Bees hang tight. - We're all jammed in. It's a close community. Not us, man. We on our own. Every mosquito on his own. - What if you get in trouble? - You a mosquito, you in trouble. Nobody likes us. They just smack. See a mosquito, smack, smack! At least you're out in the world. You must meet girls. Mosquito girls try to trade up, get with a moth, dragonfly. Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito. You got to be kidding me! Mooseblood's about to leave the building! So long, bee! - Hey, guys! - Mooseblood! I knew I'd catch y'all down here. Did you bring your crazy straw? We throw it in jars, slap a label on it, and it's pretty much pure profit. What is this place? A bee's got a brain the size of a pinhead. They are pinheads! Pinhead. –Check out the new smoker. - Oh, sweet. That's the one you want. The Thomas 3000! Smoker? Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice the nicotine, all the tar. A couple breaths of this knocks them right out. They make the honey, and we make the money. "They make the honey, and we make the money"? Oh, my! What's going on? Are you OK? Yeah. It doesn't last too long. Do you know you're in a fake hive with fake walls? Our queen was moved here. We had no choice. This is your queen? That's a man in women's clothes! That's a drag queen! What is this? Oh, no! There's hundreds of them! Bee honey. Our honey is being brazenly stolen on a massive scale! This is worse than anything bears have done! I intend to do something. Oh, Barry, stop. Who told you humans are taking our honey? That's a rumor. Do these look like rumors? That's a conspiracy theory. These are obviously doctored photos. How did you get mixed up in this? He's been talking to humans. - What? - Talking to humans?! He has a human girlfriend. And they make out! Make out? Barry! We do not. - You wish you could. - Whose side are you on? The bees! I dated a cricket once in San Antonio. Those crazy legs kept me up all night. Barry, this is what you want to do with your life? I want to do it for all our lives. Nobody works harder than bees! Dad, I remember you coming home so overworked your hands were still stirring. You couldn't stop. I remember that. What right do they have to our honey? We live on two cups a year. They put it in lip balm for no reason whatsoever!

"poor bees-"

[profoundlyluckyfox]

He is here. I sense it.Well, I guess I'll go home now and just leave this nice honey out, with no one around.You're busted, box boy!I knew I heard something.So you can talk!I can talk. And now you'll start talking!Where you getting the sweet stuff? Who's your supplier?I don't understand.I thought we were friends.The last thing we want to do is upset bees!You're too late! It's ours now!You, sir, have crossed the wrong sword!You, sir, will be lunch for my iguana, Ignacio!Where is the honey coming from? Tell me where!Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms!Crazy person!What horrible thing has happened here?These faces, they never knew what hit them. And nowthey're on the road to nowhere!Just keep still.What? You're not dead?Do I look dead? They will wipe anything that moves. Where you headed?To Honey Farms. I am onto something huge here.I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood, crazy stuff. Blows your head off!I'm going to Tacoma.And you?He really is dead.All right.Uh-oh!What is that?!Oh, no!A wiper! Triple blade!Triple blade?Jump on! It's your only chance, bee!Why does everything haveto be so doggone clean?!How much do you people need to see?!Open your eyes!Stick your head out the window!From NPR News in Washington,I'm Carl Kasell.But don't kill no more bugs!Bee!Moose blood guy!!You hear something?Like what?Like tiny screaming.Turn off the radio.Whassup, bee boy?Hey, Blood.Just a row of honey jars, as far as the eye could see.Wow!I assume wherever this truck goes is where they're getting it. I mean, that honey's ours.Bees hang tight. We're all jammed in.It's a close community.Not us, man. We on our own. Every mosquito on his own.What if you get in trouble?You a mosquito, you in trouble. Nobody likes us. They just smack. See a mosquito, smack, smack!At least you're out in the world. You must meet girls.Mosquito girls try to trade up, get with a moth, dragonfly. Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito.You got to be kidding me!Mooseblood's about to leave the building! So long, bee!Hey, guys!Mooseblood!I knew I'd catch y'all down here.Did you bring your crazy straw?We throw it in jars, slap a label on it, and it's pretty much pure profit.What is this place?A bee's got a brain the size of a pinhead.They are pinheads!Pinhead.Check out the new smoker.Oh, sweet. That's the one you want. The Thomas 3000!Smoker?Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice the nicotine, all the tar. A couple breaths of this knocks them right out.They make the honey, and we make the money."They make the honey, and we make the money"?Oh, my!What's going on? Are you OK?Yeah. It doesn't last too long.Do you know you're in a fake hive with fake walls?Our queen was moved here. We had no choice.This is your queen? That's a man in women's clothes! That's a drag queen!What is this?Oh, no!There's hundreds of them!Bee honey.Our honey is being brazenly stolen on a massive scale!This is worse than anything bears have done! I intend to do something.Oh, Barry, stop.Who told you humans are taking our honey? That's a rumor.Do these look like rumors?That's a conspiracy theory. These are obviously doctored photos. How did you get mixed up in this?He's been talking to humans.What? Talking to humans?!He has a human girlfriend. And they make out!Make out? Barry!We do not.You wish you could.Whose side are you on?

if this gets 1k notes (it won't) i'll put away the 7 baskets of clean laundry that have been piling up on my bedroom floor for weeks and weeks. it's been 3 months. come on guys. 1k. or at least 500.

[marshallpupfan]

There's something I've been wanting to talk about for some time now, and due to the fact it's been crossing my mind more and more, I'm just going to get it out of my head. It involves Marshall, his role during season 9, the upcoming spinoff "Rubble & Crew", and why the franchises lately has been leaving me... frustrated.

This will be lengthy, so hit "Keep reading" if you want to see more.

It goes without being said that I am absolutely crazy about Marshall. It's why I created my Marshall Pup Fanatic accounts, why I continue buying his merchandise, and why I even purchased my own mascot costume to wear in parades and such (which hasn't worked out yet, but hopefully in due time). As I've said many times, Marshall is legit my #1 favorite character, and due to just how much I love him, I enjoyed giving back to the franchise by supporting it.

I just wish the cartoon, itself would do the same for Marshall. Nowadays... it really doesn't anymore.

I don't know why, but ever since season 7, it feels like things just got a lot worse for the Dalmatian. Dino Rescue and Moto Pups barely gave him anything, the first half of season 8 ignored him way too much (eight missions in a row... twice), and even the theatrical film stripped him of most of his personality and gave his wipeout, his biggest running gag, to someone else.

Understandably, I found all of this to be frustrating. It's always been my impression that Marshall's one of the more popular characters in PAW Patrol, due to how much he's featured on advertisements, the numerous amounts of merchandise he gets, and the fact that most fans, both young and old, really seem to love him. And yet, his treatment in the cartoon has been so poor. I really don't get it.

And for a while there, I thought there might've been a silver lining to it all; the spinoff. When we first learned about it and nobody had any idea who it'd focus on, I really thought it was going to be Marshall. No other pup was experiencing what I mentioned above, as even Zuma was appearing more during missions for a while there. I figured they were using Marshall less because they were saving up ideas to use for him in the spinoff! Why else restrict him so much? To me, it made sense! It HAD to be him!

Well, you know what happened with that. Rubble was chosen for the spinoff, and Marshall's treatment in the cartoon got worse and worse... just because.

I so badly wanted him to be the star of the spinoff. I felt he deserved it, especially after how the cartoon began treating him. It would've been a fine way to make up for it. As a fan who became a big supporter of both Marshall and PAW Patrol, I felt an odd sense of betrayal, as silly as that may sound.

I guess, if anything, I'm glad later portions of season 8 got better for Marshall after a while. The first Rescue Knights episode gave him so much focus, and I was happy to see him co-star in that Cat Pack short with Leo! Unfortunately, it was short-lived, as things quickly went back downhill for Marshall after that. Arguably, he's at his lowest point yet.

We're currently fifteen episodes into season 9, and his usage during missions has been so unimpressive. Typically, he's only called in to handle small tasks, he's often restricted to backup, he disappears quickly no matter what he's doing, and he's yet to receive much focus, such as Big Truck Pups refusing to call him in as a first responder. I fear Aqua Pups might do the same.

Furthermore, Marshall has yet to appear on a single season 9 title card. The only one of the main six, in fact. You'd think, out of the twenty-six we've seen so far, he'd appear on at least ONE...

I really don't understand why this is happening. It's almost as if Spin Master has turned their backs on Marshall... and as a result, I no longer enjoy the franchise like I once used to. Maybe it's wrong of me to watch PAW Patrol for just one character, but Marshall really did become that special to me. And to see Spin Master treat him like this... it frustrate me, and I'm starting to wonder just how much longer I want to continue supporting the franchise.

Seriously, why stay loyal at this point? Just so I can keep tuning in to see my favorite pup get the same poor treatment? It's clear that Spin Master is shifting their focus, their priorities on Chase, Skye and Rubble, and whatever plans they have up their sleeves doesn't seem to have much room for Marshall (Rocky and Zuma also fit into that, sadly). Do I really need to keep subjecting myself to constant disappointment, new episode after new episode after new episode?

To be fair, it wouldn't be so bad if missions actually gave Marshall something that allowed him to make a difference. Sadly, that's not happening, either. As I said, Marshall keeps getting restricted to small tasks, such as wrapping legs, parking his vehicle in front of sand sculptures, and harmlessly spraying robot cats. Compare that to Chase and Skye, who continuously get tasks that save lives. The difference is like night and day! And I know the cynical answer might be "well, maybe it's because he's clumsy", but that was never an issue in the earlier seasons. Pups Leave Marshall Home Alone, the Pup-Fu episodes, the Ultimate Fire Rescues, Ready Race Rescue... all fine examples of Marshall being quite skilled and competent.

And there's a reason I said later portions of season 8 got better for him. Remember the first Rescue Knights mission, where Marshall was the only pup to stay outside of the castle to stop Sparks the Dragon from attacking it, and then he later bravely leaped up on the beast's back to retrieve the stolen Dragon's Tooth from Claw? It was such a great episode, and a wonderful showing of the skills I've come to expect from Marshall! It was something I was so happy to see, and for a little while, it renewed my faith in the franchise! I was so desperately hoping it'd last... but then season 9 came along and flushed all of that right back down the drain.

It's as if we went from "Marshall is clumsy yet highly skilled" to "just let Marshall do something small, then get him out of there as fast as we can". Just what happened... and again, why?

I hate to say it, but I really don't know if any of this will ever get any better. Again, their priority seems to have shifted to Chase, Skye and Rubble, and I fear this is just how it's going to be for Marshall from now on. I don't know that for a fact, but it's a bad feeling I'm getting. And when I look at the upcoming season 9 episodes we know about so far, none of them seem like they'll change any of this for Marshall one bit.

Is this just how it's going to be for the rest of season 9? Is Season 10 going to continue this poor treatment for Marshall? And will the theatrical film sequel even attempt to restore his personality and give him his elevator wipeout? Truth be told, I'm just not optimistic...

I apologize for making this post so lengthy. For better or worse, it's clear I'm very passionate about Marshall, and all of this is something that frustrates me, especially since I can't seem to find a logical reason as to WHY it's happening. All I know is that, if this continues for too much longer, I may stop watching PAW Patrol. Hey, I still maintain that I'm just as crazy about Marshall as ever... but the franchise, itself? Not so much anymore.

If I do stop watching new episodes, that doesn't mean I'm going to abandon my accounts or anything. I honestly love posting daily pics of Marshall every day, and I plan on keeping that tradition up for as long as I can! Unfortunately, I can't promise I'll be as active as I used to be, such as posting updates on new episodes and talking about what goes on with the franchise and whatnot. I'll probably stop posting Weekly Wipeouts, too. I'm not at that point yet, however, and if I do decide on anything, I'll probably wait until the end of season 9.

For now, I'll continue watching, though only in the hope that things will finally get better for Marshall. I don't expect much, but... who knows, maybe they'll find a way to surprise me and renew my faith in the franchise once again? I hope so, anyway...

[everybodyscupoftea]

drunk in love

jj x reader

word count: 2136

warnings: lots of drinking and not really responsibly (some underage but mostly of age); cursing (as usual); weed and smoking

synopsis: a headcanon thing where jj is your long time drinking buddy but with feelings

a/n: please drink responsibly friends

The first time you met was at a house party thrown by one of your new coworkers freshman year. You’d heard of the infamous JJ and his wild tendencies, but you’d never seen them or even him in person.

That is until you were sitting on the couch with another girl you knew and he dropped into the empty spot next to you, promptly spilling his full beer all over your leg and the couch. He slurred out, “Oh fuck, my b,” more to the couch than you.

The second time you met JJ was when you were the only one brave enough to take on the cement mixer with him. Four shot glasses, two with Baileys and two with lime juice, sat on the counter in front you. The group of people standing in the kitchen counted you down and the two of you quickly shot both and started shaking your heads quickly, allowing them to mix.

JJ accidentally spilled some down his chin but you swallowed no problem, resulting in cheers erupting all over the kitchen. You heard one of your friends scream, “Noob!” at him while wrapping you in a victorious hug.

He held a hand out for you to shake, “I yield to the superior drinker.”

The third time you met him was when your flip-pong team wiped the floor with his. You shook your head at him as he pouted, “Absolute fucking amateurs.”

He scoffed, “Your ass got carried through that game.”

You couldn’t let that stand, so you pulled up your friend’s story showing you absolutely annihilating him in a flip cup matchup which led to his team having to drink. And what exactly was he supposed to say to that?

The fourth and final time you met JJ before finally becoming friends was at a tailgate. Your friend was dating one of his frat brothers, so the two of you often tailgated with them. Admittedly, your one weakness when it came to drinking competitions was shotgunning.

Naturally, when JJ saw you there, he challenged you immediately, and you had a point to prove. You’d let to lose to JJ and it couldn’t start now. Your friend knew you were bad, but handed you an unopened beer and squeezed your shoulder for luck.

You lost but barely. JJ wrapped his arm around your shoulder, “Maybe next time, fucking amateur.” And you had to laugh at that.

“Hey I’ll get you one day and then you’ll never be able to beat me. I’ll be unstoppable.”

He shrugged, “In that case, you’re my new pong partner. John B who?”

From then on, anytime JJ got invited to a party or planned a night out, you were involved. Your favorite nights with JJ were when a group of you got together for bar-hopping downtown. One time in particular, about two years after meeting JJ for the first time, stuck out from all the others.

After a tailgate, you went back to your apartment to get dressed to go out instead of going to the football game. The plan was for JJ to come pick you up after the game to go back to the frat house to pregame before going downtown for the night, and you were excited.

It was dark by the time JJ pulled up and most of your closet was on the floor due to indecisiveness of what to wear. JJ had his pregame playlist blasting when you opened the door and his whole truck smelled like weed. You picked up the dab in the cup holder and took a hit as he sped off toward frat row.

“You look nice.”

A blush you didn’t want to acknowledge warmed your cheeks and you blew out smoke, “Thanks bud, wish I could say the same to you.”

He rolled his eyes, “Fuck off, I’m going to change before we go out.”

You just laughed and took another hit as he turned into the driveway. Following him to his room, you sat on the bed while he dug through his drawers for a shirt he hadn’t sweated in yet. He threw a shirt off the floor at you to get your attention, “Call John B and make sure he picked up the alcohol from Sarah’s please?”

“He’s your brother, you do it.”

JJ gave you a dirty look as you stretched out on his bed, “I’m getting dressed, can’t you just call him off my phone?”

You rolled your eyes, feeling unusually difficult, “I think you’re done getting ready, you look pretty, J, call him.”

He tossed the phone at you, already unlocked, and you begrudgingly pressed John B’s contact. You kicked your shoes off and got more comfortable in his bed as it rang.

“J, I’m on my way home, chill.”

“Not JJ, but I am calling to make sure you got the juice.”

“You’re just as bad as him, yes we have the alcohol.”

“We?”

John B paused for a few seconds, clearly hesitating, “Me and Sarah.”

“You’re bringing Sarah to pregame?” you asked incredulously and JJ’s head snapped up to look at you. He motioned for you to give him and phone and you shook your head.

“Give it,” he whispered.

“No,” you hissed at him, backing into the wall as he walked across the room to you.

JJ lunged toward the bed and held his hand out, “I just need to have a word with him.”

You hung up just before he ripped the phone out of your hand, and he gave you a dirty look. You smirked, “Gotta be faster, Maybank.”

“You’re the one who’s going to have to hang out with her.” And fair enough.

He crossed his arms, “Fine, you can find your own alcohol source tonight, I’m cutting you off.”

Pouting, you scrambled off the bed and wrapped him in a hug, “No, I’m sorry, I promise I’ll be nice to you.”

With an eyeroll, he wrapped his arms around you too, “Fine but only because you’re my girl.”

When John B finally showed up, you and JJ were sitting on the couch scrolling through twitter together with a plate full of pizza rolls on the table in front of you. John B lifted a heavy looking cooler over the threshold and set it down next to the table, he huffed when you two didn’t even look at him, “Hey you lazy fucks, here’s the alcohol, venmo me $20 each please.”

You walked to the cooler to grab a few beers for you and JJ while he set up drunk jenga on the table and yelled out for the other residents of the house to come play. Using one of your rings, you popped the bottles open and handed one to JJ before sitting back down next to him on the couch.

Several rounds were played as you got into a comfortable buzz. One of the freshman brothers of JJ’s frat was assigned designated driver, so he sat on the floor near you, sipping on water instead of beer with the rest of you.

After Pope lost the third round in a row he stood up, annoyed, “I’m going to play beer pong, anyone up to join?”

And obviously you were down. You followed him over for a solos game and JJ followed close behind you. Pope was a little drunker than you because of all his losses, but he was still a pretty good pong player anyway, definitely one of the best in the house behind JJ.

One of his shots hit the rim of one of your cups just as JJ blew smoke in your face, causing you to miss the swat. You glared at him, “Fuck off, J.” Of course, it landed in another cup and you quickly drained both cups before tossing the ball back to Pope.

“Fuckin right, JJ,” Pope cheered, “keep up the good distraction work.”

Pope missed the rest of his shots, and you shoved JJ away long enough to make three in a row. And from that point on, you were on fire, making quick work of the rest of the game. JJ cheered as you sank the last shot and wrapped an arm around you excitedly, “That’s my girl!”

You weren’t really in the mood to black out that night, and you knew you’d be drinking downtown, so you declined Pope’s rematch challenge.

When the sober freshman finally managed to gather everyone up to be dropped off downtown, you found yourself squished in the back seat between JJ and Sarah who had been pretty quiet all night, really only talking to John B. You didn’t know much about Sarah, just that JJ didn’t like her much plus some of the stories he’d told you that didn’t give the best impression.

Kie met you in front of your favorite bar, and your group quickly shuffled inside, barely stopping to get your hands stamped before going up to the bar. Your roommate worked there and gave you discounted drinks, so it was always your starting spot.

She leaned over the bar to press a kiss to your cheek and slid a vodka cranberry to you, “Cheers, bitch,” she yelled over the blasting music.

JJ ordered shots for the group and you ordered a beer for him in return. The whole group quickly took the lemon-flavored shots and you pulled JJ onto the dance floor, barely giving him enough time to grab the beer off the bar.

An hour and three vodka cranberries later, you were screaming along to Post Malone’s I Fall Apart, one hand holding an empty cup and the other clutching the back of JJ’s neck. He was laughing at you slurring the lyrics, but he was just as drunk, and you really considered kissing him to shut him up, not for the first time.

But before you could work up either the nerve or the coordination, the song ended and he leaned down to talk in your ear, “Wanna head next door, John B just texted me they’re doing half priced shots for the football win today?”

You nodded and stepped away from him, which was a little disappointing, but JJ didn’t let you go far. He wrapped his arm around your waist and let you lead the two of you off the dance floor and out of the bar. The air outside was warm, but cooler than inside, and a breeze chilled your sweat soaked neck.

The two of you stumbled inside the building next door and met your friends at the bar where they had shots lined up for you. With a cheer, everyone slammed their shot glass on the bar twice and tossed it back.

Three hours later, you and JJ stumbled out of your fourth bar of the night and headed slowly down the sidewalk, hanging onto each other. JJ’s arm was thrown around your shoulder and your arm was wrapped tightly around his waist, hand gripping his t-shirt.

You weren’t sure how, or why, but the two of you ended up on campus, two miles away from the bar. JJ stumbled over to the fountain in the center of the quad and climbed onto the raised edge. He was swaying and you were suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to shove him in. So you did, and unfortunately, he grabbed your arms and pulled you in with him.

“Fuck, J, why?!”

He splashed you with a bright, dopey smile, and you rolled your eyes, kicking water back in his direction. That started a fight, one you weren’t prepared for, and he overwhelmed you quickly, moving closer to wrap his arms around you.

Before you even realized what was happening, he was kissing you. You responded immediately, returning the kiss enthusiastically. It seemed to go on forever before you heard yelling coming from the edge of the quad.

JJ turned and waved clumsily at his freshman brother who had apparently tracked the two of you down to drive back home. He huffed at the two of you exasperatedly and held out towels, “Thank god for snap maps but Jesus fuck, the fountain…really guys?”

You started giggling and climbed into the backseat, plucking the juul out of JJ’s fingers to take a hit of your own before he could bring it to his lips.

“You owe me so many pods.”

Pouting, you held onto his hand, “But you love me so I get privileges.”

JJ muttered something under his breath and you leaned in trying to hear. He raised his eyebrows at you encroaching his personal space and spoke up, “Yeah I guess I do, you absolute menace.”

“Good because I love you too and that’s why I’ve been letting you drag my pong record down for two years now.”

Instead of answering, he just rolled his eyes and kissed you again.

[bluecookiedisaster]

Anger, jealousy, lust.

Oh, my goodness! Are you OK?

Yeah.

- What is wrong with you?!

- It's a bug.

He's not bothering anybody.

Get out of here, you creep!

What was that? A Pic 'N' Save circular?

Yeah, it was. How did you know?

It felt like about 10 pages.

Seventy-five is pretty much our limit.

You've really got that

down to a science.

- I lost a cousin to Italian Vogue.

- I'll bet.

What in the name

of Mighty Hercules is this?

How did this get here?

Oute Bee, Golden Blossom,

Ray Liotta Private Select?

- Is he that actor?

- I never heard of him.

- Why is this here?

- For people. We eat it.

You don't have

enough food of your own?

- Well, yes.

- How do you get it?

- Bees make it.

- I know who makes it!

And it's hard to make it!

There's heating, cooling, stirring.

You need a whole Krelman thing!

- It's organic.

- It's our-ganic!

It's just honey, Barry.

Just what?!

Bees don't know about this!

This is stealing! A lot of stealing!

You've taken our homes, schools,

hospitals! This is all we have!

And it's on sale?!

I'm getting to the bottom of this.

I'm getting to the bottom

of all of this!

Hey, Hector.

- You almost done?

- Almost.

He is here. I sense it.

Well, I guess I'll go home now

and just leave this nice honey out,

with no one around.

You're busted, box boy!

I knew I heard something.

So you can talk!

I can talk.

And now you'll start talking!

Where you getting the sweet stuff?

Who's your supplier?

I don't understand.

I thought we were friends.

The last thing we want

to do is upset bees!

You're too late! It's ours now!

You, sir, have crossed

the wrong sword!

You, sir, will be lunch

for my iguana, Ignacio!

Where is the honey coming from?

Tell me where!

Honey Farms! It comes from Honey Farms!

Orazy person!

What horrible thing has happened here?

These faces, they never knew

what hit them. And now

they're on the road to nowhere!

Just keep still.

What? You're not dead?

Do I look dead? They will wipe anything

that moves. Where you headed?

To Honey Farms.

I am onto something huge here.

I'm going to Alaska. Moose blood,

crazy stuff. Blows your head off!

I'm going to Tacoma.

- And you?

- He really is dead.

All right.

Uh-oh!

- What is that?!

- Oh, no!

- A wiper! Triple blade!

- Triple blade?

Jump on! It's your only chance, bee!

Why does everything have

to be so doggone clean?!

How much do you people need to see?!

Open your eyes!

Stick your head out the window!

From NPR News in Washington,

I'm Oarl Kasell.

But don't kill no more bugs!

- Bee!

- Moose blood guy!!

- You hear something?

- Like what?

Like tiny screaming.

Turn off the radio.

Whassup, bee boy?

Hey, Blood.

Just a row of honey jars,

as far as the eye could see.

Wow!

I assume wherever this truck goes

is where they're getting it.

I mean, that honey's ours.

- Bees hang tight.

- We're all jammed in.

It's a close community.

Not us, man. We on our own.

Every mosquito on his own.

- What if you get in trouble?

- You a mosquito, you in trouble.

Nobody likes us. They just smack.

See a mosquito, smack, smack!

At least you're out in the world.

You must meet girls.

Mosquito girls try to trade up,

get with a moth, dragonfly.

Mosquito girl don't want no mosquito.

You got to be kidding me!

Mooseblood's about to leave

the building! So long, bee!

- Hey, guys!

- Mooseblood!

I knew I'd catch y'all down here.

Did you bring your crazy straw?

We throw it in jars, slap a label on it,

and it's pretty much pure profit.

What is this place?

A bee's got a brain

the size of a pinhead.

They are pinheads!

Pinhead.

- Oheck out the new smoker.

- Oh, sweet. That's the one you want.

The Thomas 3000!

Smoker?

Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic.

Twice the nicotine, all the tar.

A couple breaths of this

knocks them right out.

They make the honey,

and we make the money.

"They make the honey,

and we make the money"?

Oh, my!

What's going on? Are you OK?

Yeah. It doesn't last too long.

Do you know you're

in a fake hive with fake walls?

Our queen was moved here.

We had no choice.

This is your queen?

That's a man in women's clothes!

That's a drag queen!

What is this?

Oh, no!

There's hundreds of them!

Bee honey.

Our honey is being brazenly stolen

on a massive scale!

This is worse than anything bears

have done! I intend to do something.

Oh, Barry, stop.

Who told you humans are taking

our honey? That's a rumor.

Do these look like rumors?

That's a conspiracy theory.

These are obviously doctored photos.

How did you get mixed up in this?

He's been talking to humans.

- What?

- Talking to humans?!

He has a human girlfriend.

And they make out!

Make out? Barry!

We do not.

- You wish you could.

- Whose side are you on?

The bees!

I dated a cricket once in San Antonio.

Those crazy legs kept me up all night.

glad that im not popular enough to have an evil shadow version of my blog that exists just to make contradictions on my posts

[lambourngb]

Why can’t I change

The irony is, you inspired this story. You posted a ficlet about Michael and Max going out to distract themselves from the pain of being separated from their soulmates...  and this hit me hard:

Max is drinking too much tonight.  This is a good bar – Michael’s actually been in here before.  Twice.  Both times over the last few months, since Alex and Forrest… yeah.  He’s left with guys, both times. He’s… he’s trying to figure some stuff out, with himself.  What he likes.  What he wants, outside of Alex.  Um, and hopefully, eventually, with Alex. It’s been… fine. Fun.  Light.  Uncomplicated.  Pretty much everything the rest of his life isn’t right now.

So I started writing a fic where Michael is exploring things about himself, dating and figuring out what he wants, while he lingers in that “hopefully eventually” feeling in place. Of course, dating is hell, and especially it’s hell when there is so much about Michael that is hard to explain to someone- not just the alien parts, but his genius IQ, his “adopted” siblings, his past in social services, no parents, etc. Then the awkwardness of how he can’t stop from watching Alex whenever their paths cross.

SNIPPET :

It started innocently enough like most of Michael’s life-ruining decisions, during a beer break from his newly re-established lab bunker. 

“Alright, worst date you’ve ever been on, and go!”  Charlie started, taking a long pull of her IPA, before sending a look over to Michael. “You win on the most embarrassing sibling, Guerin, someone needs to teach your sister to knock, but I bet I have you beat on bad dates.”

So five minutes after she had decided to stay in Roswell, Charlie Cameron had ended up tracking down Michael at Sanders, and opened the conversation unceremoniously with, “So aliens are real and I’m guessing you’re one. Consider me the newest member of your Scooby Gang and tell me everything.” He had dropped a heavy wrench on his boot, pain stealing his voice for a moment. Perhaps there was a man out there that was able to resist the no-nonsense stare of a Cameron woman, but that wasn’t Michael, or even Max for that matter.

And that was that, one more person in on the second biggest secret Michael held (he was still in love with Alex being number one). It came with it’s own valuable reveals, finding out from Charlie that although Helena Ortecho had covered her tracks with the group as a red herring for Flint’s sake, Deep Sky was a very real paramilitary group and they were the source of the depowering serum that Helena had used on Michael to keep him compliant.

So ten minutes after catching her up on all things ridiculous and real in Roswell, New Mexico, Charlie had raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him and drawled lazily, “Any plans to combat that drug, or are you just going to hope that the next time it’s another benign manipulator? Because the way I see it, I’m a genius biochemist, and you’re a genius period, maybe we can do better than blind hope?”

Whether it was hubris at play to see if it was even possible, or a renewed determination to just fuck up whatever military sponsored plot that was in play, Charlie Cameron signed on to research an antidote to the depowering serum and in the process had become Michael’s newest, and surprisingly easiest, friend to have. 

It was strange but Michael was starting to number his friends beyond just Max, Isobel and the currently absent Liz Ortecho. He could begrudgingly add Kyle Valenti to the list, now that Max had come clean with everyone over his heart condition. Although it was exceedingly awkward at times in the wake of their breakup, Maria was trying for friendship with him and it probably said something about them that they fell into that rhythm much easier than he had with Alex. 

On paper he could consider Alex his friend. They shared beers together at neutral locations, there was always a conversation to linger over with coffee, and finally, Michael was the person Alex called now, every time he was scheduled to go out of town for work. That was less friendship, and more of a coping mechanism for them both after his abduction by Jesse then Helena. 

It meant that Charlie Cameron had won the contest of easiest friend probably by default, but that didn’t make being the target of her knife-sharp sense of humor any easier to deflect when she smelled blood in the water. Thinking about his past, he knew that any conversation about dating was sure to leave him bleeding out.

Michael eyed the open hatch of the bunker lab, wondering if the spanse of time they had spent in the open air was enough for Charlie to nip this conversation to a close and return to the task of experimentation. Long periods of time in solitary confinement in a military prison had left her with a dislike of closed spaces, and it didn’t matter what sort of faux-Restoration Hardware light fixture he hung from the ceiling of his bunker; the walls would start closing in on her after two  hours or so of work.  

“You win this round, okay?” 

“Come on, no bowing out. I told you about the ‘bring your child to work day’ my father suffered through with his conservative asshat co-workers, you can tell me about your worst date.”

“I haven’t dated enough to have a bad one, okay?” Michael admitted, looking away. There was no way he was going to talk about the drive in charity benefit with Alex, when he couldn’t be legitimately sure that it was even a date. Did sharing a six-pack on his tailgate even count? The way that night had ended was better off forgotten. Then there was Maria, where drinks at her bar had started as the natural postscript to an evening together. Did that count? He remembered bargaining with debts to arrange a dinner with Chinese food, that had been postponed almost indefinitely after her visions took center stage. 

“Bullshit! Almost the second thing my sister told me about you was to be careful I didn’t end up in your bed.”

Michael ducked his head with an acknowledged wince. Well, Jenna Cameron did have a front-row seat during most of his questionable decisions regarding women and his poor restraint when it came to a certain brand of asshole at the Wild Pony. When he ran across men who reminded him of Foster Dad #5 who thought respect could be beaten into Michael, or men who were like Foster Dad 3 who kept his wife nervously popping pills for her nerves and caked in pancake makeup most Sunday mornings. Some people just needed punching. Michael was always happy to be the one doing it if someone gave him reason to and drunk assholes often did.

He tipped the bottle back to drain the last swallow of nearly flat beer to buy some time as he thought about what to say next. There was little hope of escape, Charlie had the mind of a scientist, sharp and inquisitive and ready to press for more answers. “I’m no virgin, that’s for sure. But that was mainly sex.” He shrugged, dropping the empty into his trash barrel. “From all the movies Izzy makes me watch with her, I gather going on a date is something of a higher tier than a one-off in my truck after last call.”

“What about with Mr. Complicated?” Charlie’s smile was closer to a smirk. Michael revised his assessment of her, from scientist to sadist. 

“More than a one-off in my truck,” Michael agreed quietly. “Everything else was why it was complicated. And no, I don’t really want to talk about it, just to say, I have no stories about lost entrées at dinner or suddenly being a part of someone’s wedding reception with him.” 

Instead of pressing the knife deeper into him with more questions about Alex, Charlie backed off with a mixed expression. Shit that was pity on her face, wasn’t it? God, it really was a sad story, his relationship with Alex and his life currently, Michael thought. Charlie, who had spent time in the last couple of years in a military prison and was actively evading a paramilitary group interested in her research, actually pitied his life. 

“You’re trying to tell me you’re thirty years old, and you don’t have a single dating story to share?” She shook her head giving a sarcastic *bzzz* sound with her lips. “I don’t buy it. What about the hot bartender you were with last year?”

“You ever try to date someone who works in a bar? Her work hours were prime recreational hours. Who wants to go see a movie after last call and closing the till? You especially don’t want to go to another bar during off hours.” Michael pointed out. “Anyway, we kept it low-key. I cooked. Or we had drinks at the Pony. I dunno, life kept getting in the way of anything more.” 

“That’s just sad.”

Michael placed his hand against his chest, “Ouch, don’t hold back!”

Charlie straightened up from where she was sitting, on the steps of the old school bus to get to her feet. “Okay you’ve basically described two relationships with feelings, but I’m talking about something different. You swipe right on someone, trade messages, ghost them when they are creepy, you’ve never done any of that? No one has ever slipped their number to you when you’ve gone out with friends?”

“I just told you, those were just one-offs in my truck.”

“Oh my god, give me your phone, we’re downloading some apps.”

[seaanimalonland]

All Wild Animals Were Once Called Deer | Brigit Pegeen Kelly

Some truck was gunning the night before up Pippin Hill's steep grade

And the doe was thrown wide. This happened five years ago now,

Or six. She must have come out of the woods by Simpson's red trailer—

The one that looks like a faded train car—and the driver

Did not see her. His brakes no good. Or perhaps she hit the truck.

That happens, too. A figure swims up from nowhere, a flying figure

That seems to be made of nothing more than moonlight, or vapor,

Until it slams its face, solid as stone, against the glass.

And maybe when this happens the driver gets out. Maybe not.

Strange about the kills we get without intending them.

Because we are pointed in the direction of something.

Because we are distracted at just the right moment, or the wrong.

We were waiting for the school bus. It was early, but not yet light.

We watched the darkness draining off like the last residue

Of water from a tub. And we didn't speak, because that was our way.

High up a plane droned, drone of the cold, and behind us the flag

In front of the Bank of Hope's branch trailer snapped and popped in the wind.

It sounded like a boy whipping a wet towel against a thigh

Or like the stiff beating of a swan's wings as it takes off

From the lake, a flat drumming sound, the sound of something

Being pounded until it softens, and then—as the wind lowered

And the flag ran out wide—there was a second sound, the sound of running fire.

And there was the scraping, too, the sad knife-against-skin scraping

Of the acres of field corn strung out in straggling rows

Around the branch trailer that had been, the winter before, our town's claim to fame

When, in the space of two weeks, it was successfully robbed twice.

The same man did it both times, in the same manner.

He had a black hood and a gun, and he was so polite

That the embarrassed teller couldn't hide her smile when he showed up again.

They didn't think it could happen twice. But sometimes it does.

Strange about that. Lightning strikes and strikes again.

My piano teacher watched her husband, who had been struck as a boy,

Fall for good, years later, when he was hit again.

He was walking across a cut corn field toward her, stepping over

The dead stalks, holding the bag of nails he'd picked up at the hardware store

Out like a bouquet. It was drizzling so he had his umbrella up.

There was no thunder, nothing to be afraid of.

And then a single bolt from nowhere, and for a moment the man

Was doing a little dance in a movie, a jig, three steps or four,

Before he dropped like a cloth, or a felled bird.

This happened twenty years ago now, but my teacher keeps

Telling me the story. She hums while she plays. And we were humming

That morning by the bus stop. A song about boys and war.

And the thing about the doe was this. She looked alive.

As anything will in the half light. As lawn statues will.

I was going to say as even children playing a game of statues will,

But of course they are alive. Though sometimes

A person pretending to be a statue seems farther gone in death

Than a statue does. Or to put it another way,

Death seems to be the living thing, the thing

The thing that looks out through the eyes. Strange about that . . .

We stared at the doe for a long time and I thought about the way

A hunter slits a deer's belly. I've watched this many times.

And the motion is a deft one. It is the same motion the swan uses

When he knifes the children down by his pond on Wasigan Road.

They put out a hand. And quick as lit grease, the swan's

Boneless neck snakes around in a sideways circle, driving

The bill hard toward the softest spot . . . All those songs

We sing about swans, but they are mean. And up close, often ugly.

That old Wasigan bird is a smelly, moth-eaten thing.

His wings stained yellow as if he chewed tobacco,

His upper bill broken from his foul-tempered strikes.

And he is awkward, too, out of the water. Broken-billed and gaited.

When he grapples down the steep slope, wheezing and spitting,

He looks like some old man recovering from hip surgery,

Slowly slapping down one cursed flat foot, then the next.

But the thing about the swan is this. The swan is made for the water.

You can't judge him out of it. He's made for the chapter

In the rushes. He's like one of those small planes my brother flies.

Ridiculous things. Something a boy dreams up late at night

While he stares at the stars. Something a child draws.

I've watched my brother take off a thousand times, and it's always

The same. The engine spits and dies, spits and catches—

A spurting match—and the machine shakes and shakes as if it were

Stuck together with glue and wound up with a rubber band.

It shimmies the whole way down the strip, past the pond

Past the wind bagging the goose-necked wind sock, past the banks

Of bright red and blue planes. And as it climbs slowly

Into the air, wobbling from side to side, cautious as a rock climber,

Putting one hand forward then the next, not even looking

At the high spot above the tree line that is the question,

It seems that nothing will keep it up, not a wish, not a dare,

Not the proffered flowers of our held breath. It seems

As if the plane is a prey the hunter has lined up in his sights,

His finger pressing against the cold metal, the taste of blood

On his tongue . . . but then, at the dizzying height

Of our dismay, just before the sky goes black,

The climber's frail hand reaches up and grasps the highest rock,

Hauling, with a last shudder, the body over,

The gun lowers, and perfectly poised now, high above

The dark pines, the plane is home free. It owns it all, all.

My brother looks down and counts his possessions,

Strip and grass, the child's cemetery the black tombstones

Of the cedars make on the grassy hill, the wind-scrubbed

Face of the pond, the swan's white stone . . .

In thirty years, roughly, we will all be dead . . . That is one thing . . .

And you can't judge the swan out of the water . . . That is another.

The swan is mean and ugly, stupid as stone,

But when it finally makes its way down the slope, over rocks

And weeds, through the razory grasses of the muddy shallows,

The water fanning out in loose circles around it

And then stilling, when it finally reaches the deepest spot

And raises in slow motion its perfectly articulated wings,

Wings of smoke, wings of air, then everything changes.

Out of the shallows, the lovers emerge, sword and flame,

And over the pond's lone island the willow spills its canopy,

A shifting feast of gold and green, a spell of lethal beauty.

O bird of moonlight. O bird of wish. O sound rising

Like an echo from the water. Grief sound. Sound of the horn.

The same ghostly sound the deer makes when it runs

Through the woods at night, white lightning through the trees,

Through the coldest moments, when it feels as if the earth

Will never again grow warm, lover running toward lover,

The branches tearing back, the mouth and eyes wide,

The heart flying into the arms of the one that will kill her.

via @Poetry_Daily

[365days365movies]

February 14, 2021: Brokeback Mountain (2005) (Part 1)

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Or Palentine’s, Galentine’s, Single Persons Appreciation Day, what have you!

Anyway, on this day where we (and the greeting card companies) celebrate love in all of its forms, I think it’s about time to diversify my movie choices a little bit. SO, for the next few days at least, we’re going to change it up, starting with a film that shook the 2005 public’s perceptions of love: Brokeback Mountain.

And who brings this movie to us? Same guy who gave us this:

And this:

And would give us this:

Ang Lee wasn’t originally meant to be the director of the film, as Gus van Sant was signed on to do it. You know, Good Will Hunting, Drugstore Cowboy, that one movie where Una Thurman plays the greatest hitchhiker in the world with giant thumbs, and eventually finds herself meeting multiple people, including Keanu Reeves, Pat Morita (Mr. Miyagi from The Karate Kid), and a group of radicalesbians who like in the Great Plains, coexisting with a group of critically endangered whooping cranes to whom they;’ve fed peyote, while also opposing the intentions of an evil feminine hygiene product company that seeks to take over the land for their factories? YOU KNOW, THAT MOVIE?

It’s called Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, and I wasn’t even slightly exaggerating with that summary, I SWEAR.

Anyway, he couldn’t do it, and Joel Schumacher also passed on it eventually, so they asked Ang Lee if he’d do it. After CTHD and Hulk, dude was on his way to retire, but after he cried at the end of the script, he accepted the job. AND HISTORY WAS MADE

Before I get into it, I should probably frank about something. I’m a cissexual, heterosexual man in a straight relationship with my girlfriend. She says hi, by the way. Here she is, a massive Jake Gyllenhaal fan, getting ready to watch this movie for the first time with me:

Isn’t she lovely? Anyway, just thought I’d be totally transparent about that. Incidentally, I remember when this film came out, as well as the fervor around it. This was JUST as the gay marriage debate was EXPLODING into the public scene, so this was obviously quite the talking point at the time.

 Anyway, shall we find out who’s not going to quit whom? SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

Cowboys Ennis del Mar (Heath Ledger) and Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) are waiting outside of a trailer, with Ennis having just arrived  on a truck that reminded me of Optimus Prime, and I’m sorry. They’ve been hired by Joe Aguirre (Randy Quaid) to look after a group of sheep and guide them over Brokeback Mountain, a fictional mountain in Wyoming.

The two finally introduce each other, with Ennis seeming considerably closed off as compared to the open Jack Twist. They head to a bar, where the two get to know each other a but better Jack’s an occasional shepherd, but highly involved in rodeos throughout the year. Ennis, meanwhile, is a regular ranchhand at his family’s farm.

Time for sheep-herding, as the two guide their flock of sheep on horseback, with soft country guitars playing in the background over all of it. And I gotta say, the music combined with the visuals is giving me this real sleepy ambience vibe that I 100% would watch specifically to fall asleep to. Which is not an insult by any means, by the way; it’s just super relaxing.

The two make camp with the sheep in a mountain valley, and now I want to go camping. I realize that it’s February, and I live in a place VERY non-conducive to camping, but GODDAMN this movie makes me want to go camping. In the wilderness, surrounded by bird calls and crisp mountain air, LET’S GO.

We find out that Ennis is engaged to be wed to a woman named Alma, while Jack is yearning to break free of needing to take jobs like this. And all the while, they’re eating beans, scaring away coyotes, and fending of REALLY REALLY FAT American black bears, who you could really easily scare away without too much difficulty. You ever stared at a bear while both of you were in the woods? I HAVE. And we BOTH took off from each other in opposite directions. They’re not the bravest of animals, black bears. Grizzlies, however, you don’t wanna fuck with.

Anyway, after they face off against that bear and lose their newly bought supplies, they go hunting the next day and take down an elk. Which is a LOT of venison, I tell you what! Oh, and I’m not a hunter, just to be clear, but elk are fuggin’ HUGE. Seriously, XL deer they are.

Anyway, time goes on after that, and they continue to make their way through the mountains. And they get to know each other more, sharing their rodeo experiences and family backgrounds. Ennis also opens up pretty considerably, a fact not missed by Jack. The two become friends.

My girlfriend asks an interesting question: if I had never heard of this movie in any capacity...would I have known the extent of the relationship of Ennis and Jack? And honestly...I’m legitimately not sure at this point. I think I would’ve just assumed that they’d stay close friends, but no further than that. Call that being raised in a society with heterosexual bias towards relationships, or call that me not being a natural shipper. Both are probably accurate, to be honest.

Anyway, it’s getting cold out, and Jack’s sleeping in the tent one night while Ennis is freezing his balls off outside. With Jack’s insistence, he goes inside the tent to sleep next to Jack. And then...

Oh. Well, OK. Again, though, still not sure that at this point I’d...oh wait...OH...OH.

OK. Think I’d be able to tell at this point what the movie’s about.

So, yeah, they have sex. It’s spontaneous, it’s wild, it’s heat of the moment passion...and it’s REAL awkward the next day, I tell you what. That next evening, Ennis and Jack both insist that they “ain’t queer,” and that this is “a one-shot thing they got goin’.”

Uh, boys? There’s some important evidence to the contrary that we should consider here. But, OK, it’s a different culture, this is super new to you both, I get it. I’m not one to talk on the coming out or discovery experience (again, straight cis dude over here), but I understand that there’s some inherent denial. But still, they continue their relationship as is, for the time being.

Which is not as private as they thought, as Joe Aguirre observes them chasing each other naked on the mountain from afar. Whoops. Well, it doesn’t matter as much, as they still have a job to do until summer ends. And that job continues. They encounter another herd of sheep that gets tangled up with theirs, snow falls on the mountain and they have to deal with that, etc.

Then one day, the two need to head out. Jack goes to fetch Ennis, who’s moping on a hillside about something. He does this play lasso thing, which seems cute...

...until it turns into a full on brawl right there on the hillside. OK. Well. Some heavy denial going on here, I think, especially on Ennis’ part. Which is somewhat understandable, given the culture, and the fact that Ennis is engaged. Oh, by the way, hello infidelity. GodDAMN IT. Escaped you for TWO MOVIES IN A ROW, and you’re back rearing your ugly head.

Anyway, the job is done soon, and Aguirre’s not exactly happy with them, as they’ve apparently lost some sheep and picked up some from the other herd’s flock accidentally. With a light rebuke from Aguirre, the two part ways with not much else said. Jack asks if Ennis will come back the next summer, and Ennis reminds him that he’s getting married that fall. But as Ennis leaves...

Huh. Interesting reaction, that. Well, in the next scene, Ennis gets married to Alma Beers (Michelle Williams), and they seem to have a very happy relationship. They have two daughters together in a pretty small amount of time. The next summer, Jack tries to get a job with Joe Aguirre once again, but is refused on account of his relationship with Ennis on the mountain...kind of.

See, here’s the thing. Joe rebukes Jack for having their relationship on the mountain, leaving the dogs to babysit the sheep, rather than do the job they were hired for. And, uh...he’s not wrong, honestly. Yeah, OK, there’s definitely some homophobia laced in there, obviously, but they were hired to watch the sheep, and we only really saw them do that once or twice. So, yeah, sorry to say, but Joe’s not entirely unjustified in not rehiring Jack.

At a Fourth of July festival, Ennis brings his wife and daughters to see the fireworks, when a couple of bikers antagonize the crowd as a whole. This results in Ennis telling them to stop, and a fight takes place, with Ennis IMMEDIATELY taking out the two bikers, with little effort. Anger issues there, Ennis? 

Jack returns to the rodeo, with new other options for money. He’s clearly also coming to terms with his own sexuality, as seen when he not so subtly hits on a cowboy at the bar. However, he also meets a young woman, a barrel racer named Lureen Newsome (Anne Hathaway), whom he seems to get along with fairly quickly at a rodeo. They dance together at the bar that night, and, uh...park.

And that, of course, leads to their eventual marriage and parentage as well. Looks like Lureen’s parents arent the biggest fans of Jack, though. Sure that’s going to lead to a healthy relationship down the road.

Been about 4 years since Brokeback Mountain, and this is punctuated by Jack paying a visit to Ennis’ place, which Ennis is told about by Alma. He seems...very anious, waiting nervously for a day to see him. But he finally arrives, and the two embrace happily. And then...

Oh, and Alma sees? Sure, sure, oh, and they go to a motel IMMEDIATELY? Oh, OK, OK, infidelity? Yuuuuuuupyupyupyupyupyup, halfway point? Yeah, sure, see you in Part 2. Geez.

[trashyswitch]

The Struggle is REAL!

Patton gets aggressive and surprisingly giggly when the car won't start. Logan is left in awe by the strange reaction, while Roman laughs his head off and further teases him and annoys him. It doesn't take long for the Moral and Creative side to start up a playful and slightly aggressive tickle fight.

I got this idea from a TikTok about a guy struggling to get his truck started. I hope you like it!

Patton, Logan and Roman were sitting in Thomas’s car. Logan was in the passenger seat, Patton was in the driver's seat, and Roman was in the back. They were planning on picking up some take out from a local chinese food restaurant. But the boys weren’t going anywhere until Patton got the car started.

Patton sighed as he attempted to turn the car key in the ignition. It was turning, but the car engine wasn’t turning on. Patton turned it over, and over, and over again, but nothing would turn on. “Um…” Patton removed the key and stared at it. “Excuse me, please work.” Patton told it before shoving it back into the ignition. Patton turned it once: nothing. He turned it twice: nothing. Patton frowned and turned it a third time! Nothing! Patton ripped the key out of the ignition. “What did I just tell you?” Patton asked it with a stern voice.

Roman was snickering at him, while Logan was looking at Patton with slight worry. “Would you like some help, Patton?” Logan asked.

“No.” Patton said back.

“Are you sure?” Logan clarified.

“I can do this. The key is just...being...VERY difficult.” Patton explained as he struggled with the key again.

Logan nodded. “I can see that.” He reacted.

Roman was covering his mouth and struggling to keep himself together. He could tell Patton was getting close to raging, and he couldn’t wait to see it.

“Is it really that hard?” Roman asked. Patton let out a high-pitched growl and smacked the steering wheel with his palm.

Logan widened his eyes for a moment. “Here Patton. Would you like me to-” Logan brought his hand over to the key and the ignition, and started trying to turn it himself. Sure enough, the ignition was failing to start the car. “The wiring must be faulty. It may take a few more tries to get-”

“I’m doing it!” Patton declared as he basically ripped Logan’s fingers off the key and grasped it with his own hand.

“Uh-...Okay.” Logan replied in a calm, but worried tone.

Patton tried turning it half a dozen times in a single run. But nothing was starting the car. Patton tried gripping the key a different way, and turned it a couple dozen times in a row. He tried turning it quickly: nothing. He tried turning it slower: nothing. He tried turning it with immense force: no reaction. And finally, he calmed himself down long enough to try it lightly:

Nothing.

“GRRRAAAA! YOU STUPID-” Patton ripped the key out of the ignition and floored the gas petal in anger. Since the car wasn’t actually on, the car didn’t even move an inch.

Logan looked at Patton in surprise. “Okay...Patton, let’s breath...alright?” Logan told him. Patton took a moment to breath in, hold his breath and breathe out. He breathed in, held his breath for a few seconds, and let out his breath. He breathed in-

“Yohou gonna start the car yet?” Roman asked.

Patton’s breath exploded from his mouth and came out in a mix of hysterical laughter, and frustrated growls. “Ihihihi’m TRYYYYYIHIHING!” Patton yelled over his shoulder. “IHIHIT WON’T START!” Patton added before taking another shot at starting the truck.

Logan sat back and stared at Patton in disbelief. Was Patton...laughing out of frustration?

Meanwhile, Patton was turning the key dozens of times per minute in an attempt to get the car to do something. Patton’s emotions were a mix of a trainwreck, and failarmy all in 1. His brain was growing insane from frustration, but his brain was also laughing over the stupid conundrum. Patton let out a quick growl, and headbutted the middle of the steering wheel in anger.

HOOOONK!

Patton screamed and threw his head back up, before bursting out laughing and leaning into the driver's seat. Roman bursted out laughing at the moment as well. “OHOHO MY GOHOHOD I’M DYHYHYIHIHING!” Roman shouted.

Logan was the only person not laughing. Instead, he was just staring at them in pure confusion. “I...what in the world is so funny?” Logan asked.

“Ihihi cahan’t start the car! And I made the car go HOOONK! WITH MY FOREHEAD!” Patton told him before falling into another laughing fit.

Logan didn’t know what to say to that. The other two sides were acting like idiots, but...they were acting like rambunctious, cute little idiots.

“Cohome on Patton! Start the car already!” Roman told him.

“YOU DON’T THINK I’M TRYING?!” Patton exclaimed.

“Well yeah, but...try jiggling it-”

“JIGGLE IT?!” Patton yelled.

“Yes! Jiggle it as you turn it!” Roman told him.

Logan narrowed his eyes at Roman in slight anger. “That’s just gonna make the wiring worse-”

But Patton was already jiggling the key while he turned it. He tried to jiggle before he turned it: it didn’t work. He tried to jiggle the key while he turned it: that didn’t work either. He tried jiggling it after it was turned all the way: That failed. He even removed it, put it back in, turned it again and jiggled it like a mad man! And would you know, it didn’t work.

“FUUUCK!” Patton shouted before he pulled the key out of the ignition again.

Logan’s jaw dropped in surprise. “WHOA...Patton! Your language-”

“I’m DONE! I’M DONE WITH THIS STUPID CAR! IT’S BEEN CAUSING THOMAS SO MUCH TROUBLE FOR SO LONG…” Patton yelled with a slight smile on his face.

“Pahahat- Hey Pat…” Roman called.

Patton sighed and sunk down in the chair. “What.” He replied.

Roman’s smirk widened as he changed his voice to a raspy, elder Karen voice. “You just gotta JIGGLE IT, I SWEAR!” Roman joked, referencing the TikTok audio. Patton wheezed and hit the steering wheel again. “Fuck you, Kevin.” Roman added as Patton resumed his attempts to turn the key.

Logan sighed and rubbed his nose. “Is now really the time for TikTok jokes?” Logan asked.

“Are you kidding?! Now is the PERFECT time for a TikTok joke!” Roman told him.

Patton resumed his key turning for a good few minutes. But like a computer with no battery, it just wouldn’t start running.

“Bro, start the truck!” Roman added.

“IT WON’T! STAHAHART! DO YOU WANNA TRY IT?!” Patton yelled at Roman.

“No, no, no. I wanna see you and your flimsy little arms start this car.” Roman replied in with a smirk.

“I-De-I-UM- FLIMSY ARMS?!” Patton shouted at him.

“Roman, stop pissng him off!” Logan ordered sternly.

“Patton’s not pissed off. Patton, are you pissed off right now?” Roman asked.

Patton widened his smile as he shook his head in shock. “YYEHEHEHES!” Patton shouted over his shoulder.

“Aw, come on Pat. You just get stronger and jiggle the key until it starts!” Roman explained.

Patton let out a long growl and a whine and rested his forehead on the top of the steering wheel. He was going insane, over a simple car issue! And Roman wasn’t making things any better! Logan was being an angel by keeping quiet and trying to help him, but Roman was being annoying, just for the hell of it!

“Hey...hey Pat…” Roman called calmly. Oh gosh...what does he want now? “You gonna start the car yet?” Roman asked.

It was as if a switch was flicked on inside his brain! Because almost immediately after those words were spoken, Patton abandoned the driver's seat, climbed right into the back and started tickling Roman as revenge for being SO ANNOYING!

“BAAAHAHAHAHAHA! NO! NOTICKLES, NOHOHO TICKLIHIHIHIHIHIHING!” Roman shouted at him through his newfound laughter.

“Are you done? Are you done bothering me, Roman?” Patton asked, slight frustration still present in his voice.

“WHAHAHAT HAHAPPEHEHENED TOHO YOHOHOUR PAHAHATIEHENCE?!” Roman exclaimed.

“Oh! Patient Patton isn’t here right now! Wanna know who IS here?” Patton asked.

“NOHOHOHO TIHIHICKLE MOHOHONSTEHEHEHER!” Roman begged.

“Nope! It’s the HANGRY TICKLE MONSTER! AND BOY, DOES THIS MONSTER NEED FOOD!” Patton declared before shoving his face into Roman’s belly and nibbling loudly.

NONONONAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! EEEEEEHEHEHEHEHE! OH GOD, PLEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAHAP!” Roman begged.

WhaAaAaAat? But the Hangry tickle monster barely got a few bites in!” Patton whined.

Roman couldn’t talk. The laughter from earlier, mixed with the laughter from Patton tickling, was leaving him gasping for air. So, Roman shook his head helplessly.

“Awww, the poor man can’t talk! Perhaps he should’ve thought of what he was doing when he’s making a hungry tickle monster even more hu- EEEEK! LOHOHO! NAHAHAHAHAAAA!” Patton declared. Quickly though, Patton was interrupted by his own laughter! Logan appeared to have climbed into the back seat of the car as well, and was now hugging Patton and squeezing his sides and ribs.

“It appears that the hangry tickle monster needs a little help calming down…” Logan said in a calm, but sly voice.

Roman quickly took the free opportunity, to get up and grab Patton’s foot. Patton yelped and tugged on his foot, but failed to get it loose. “NOHOHO FEEEEHEHEHET!” Patton begged.

“Oho! No feet? I didn’t know the hangry tickle monster had ticklish feet!” Roman reacted jokingly. “Please explain by laughing as I tickle!” Roman ordered before tickling his now bare, left foot.

Patton widened his eyes for a moment and burst into hysterics, before squeezing them shut. Logan lessened his own fingers to let Roman take over, and primarily watched the poor Father fall apart just from one ticklish foot. “Aah...I get it! The tickle monster is extremely ticklish!” Roman commented.

“YOHOHOU THIHIHIHINK?!” Patton shouted back.

“Now what would happen if I sloooowly moooove to your…ticklish widdle toesies?” Roman moved his fingers up and up to Patton’s 5 toes and started scratching under them.

Patton fell into cackles almost immediately. He attempted to move his foot around to tug it free, but Roman had a really good hold on it. Plus, moving his foot around would only tickle him further.

“NOOOHOHO TOHOHOHOES! NOHOHOHO TOHOHOHOES!” Patton begged as he squirmed around.

“No toes, huh? Funnily enough, I see 5 little toes right here! This little piggy went to the market…” Roman started grabbing his toes one at a time, and started pushing them back and tickling under them.

“AAAAEEEEEEEHEHEHEHE!” Patton squealed.

“This little piggy stayed home!” Roman continued, pulling back the 2nd toe and giving the skin underneath a few scratches.

“COHOHOHOME OHOHON, ROHOHOHOHO! NOHOHO RHYHYHYHYMES!” Patton begged despite his powerless state.

Roman ignored Patton’s plea however, and only continued the rhyme.

“This little piggy got the giggles…” Roman continued, pulling the third toe back and giving the underside some little scratches.

“THAHAT’S NOT HOHOHOW IHIT GOHOHOHOHOES!” Patton protested.

“It is now!” Roman declared before continuing. “And this little piggy got de tickle-tickle-tickles!” Roman rhymed, lifting the 4th toe up and tickling under it.

“NUUUUHUHUHUHUHU! HAHAHAHAHAHA!” Patton laughed and squirmed in Logan’s arms.

Logan decided to join Roman for the last verse: “And this little piggy went WEE WEE WEE WEE WEE WEE! All the waaayy home!” Roman and Logan both spoke proudly as Roman tickled the underside of Patton’s pinky toe.

“EEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHA! IHIHI’M DYHYIHING, I’M DYHYHYHYHYIHIHING!” Patton yelled fruitlessly.

“Alright, I think that’s enough.” Logan told Roman.

Roman stopped tickling almost immediately. “Sounds good.” Roman replied and stepped back. Patton was a giggly mess of emotions within Logan’s arms. Logan happily welcomed this giddy behaviour and pulled Patton into a big hug from behind. Patton giggled through almost the entire hug, and hugged Logan’s arms as best he could in his position.

Suddenly, the sudden roaring of the car engine filled the car for a moment. Patton and Logan looked towards the driver's seat, and widened their eyes at Roman’s magical fingers. Roman had managed to figure out how to start the car! But how?! Roman’s never driven!

“WHAT?!” Patton shouted.

“Huh…” Was all Logan could say.

Roman giggled at him. “You’re welcome.” Roman replied with a smile.

And with that, the three boys headed off to get some good ol’ chow mein, sesame chicken and amazing chicken balls covered in cherry sauce.

The perfect meal for the hungry sides.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Extraordinary

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve is just trying to get through his day to day life in the wake of The Battle of New York, working at SHIELD and trying to ignore his own personal demons. Then he meets Y/N, a librarian who sees more than just the mantle of Captain America. 

Content Warning: some negative inner dialogue

Word Count: 3.1k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! This was written for the oh-so-talented @lancsnerd ‘s 1k Challenge. I picked the quote “You’re not special. You’re extraordinary.” for Steve. I really had a blast with this prompt and I hope you all enjoy the fic! XOXO - Ash

Extraordinary

“A hero? Like you?” Tony spits out incredulously,  “You're a lab rat, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle!”

Tony’s words echo in Steve’s head as he wakes with a start. Heart pounding, chest heaving, he tries to get his bearings. A dream. Just a dream. The words though, those still sting. Even a year later Steve can’t shake the feeling that Tony was right. Shit. He’s never getting back to sleep now. 

Steve drags himself out of bed, ignoring the alarm clock’s judgmental blue glow of 4:15am. At least he made it past 3am this time. Sleep problems are common in people with PTSD, his therapist had told him. She offered him medication to help but Steve declined, not sure how well it would work with his super soldier metabolism anyways. He dresses quickly, wanting to get a run in before breakfast. Steve has plenty of time, SHIELD doesn’t require him to show up until 9am, but he’s normally there before eight. He likes feeling useful, and having a steady job at SHIELD has been centering for him.

Steve runs a full marathon before the sun even comes up. He returns home just over an hour later, sweaty and finally starting to feel his muscles burn a little. It’s nice being able to lose himself for a little while in the steady rhythm of his feet hitting the pavement. He stares at his coffee maker for a moment before deciding it isn’t worth the hassle. It’s strange, having the luxury of getting coffee out just because he feels like it. The 1940s still feel like they were a few years ago and Steve’s depression era values run deep. He will admit though, there’s something to be said for takeout. Steve powers through two protein bars as he gets ready for a shower, needing something in his system before he crashes. It’s obnoxious some days how much his enhanced body requires, but he manages. It’s just one of the many unexpected side effects of Erskine’s serum.

Surviving Project Rebirth had been a blessing and a curse. Steve had finally gotten everything he wanted; a chance to fight for what was right, to do something meaningful with his life. But it came with a high price: his freedom. Steve’s life hasn’t been his own since the moment he stepped out of the vita-ray pod. He wasted so much time being the military’s dancing monkey and then once they realized he could fight, it was one battle after another. Even in this new century, he was thrust into a battle for mankind shortly after thawing out. Working for SHIELD for the past year has felt like a vacation after WWII and the Battle of New York. 

Steve clears the steam from the bathroom mirror after his shower, needing to do a quick shave. He stares at his reflection long after his face is back to its standard smoothness. Tony was right, his inner demons whisper. Fraud. Nothing. Worthless. Steve knows he’s supposed to reframe his thoughts and move past his negative inner dialogue, but in the moment he just can’t summon the will to care. Running a comb through his hair, he heads into the bedroom to dress for the day. He may not feel up to it at the moment but given a little time and some coffee, he’ll be okay by the time he gets into the office. 

The sounds of the city in downtown DC remind Steve of the Brooklyn of his youth and he’s comforted by the familiar hustle and bustle. He almost doesn’t see the oncoming trash truck when you step off the sidewalk to cross the street. A step behind you, Steve catches the large green truck out of the corner of his eye. The truck barely stops at the light and makes an illegal right turn on red, barreling straight for you. Steve, in a burst of speed, slams into you, scooping you up in his arms and rolling into the other lane out of the way of danger. As his broad shoulders collide with the pavement he holds you as tightly as he can, letting his body take the brunt of the impact. People on the sidewalk scream watching the scene unfold, but it’s all background noise to Steve who is only focused on the squeak of surprise you make as you roll. 

You come to a stop with Steve below you and he’s frantic to make sure you’re okay. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” he asks urgently.

You blink a few times, gaining your bearings. One minute you’re crossing the street to work, the next you’re using America’s most famous super soldier as a human mattress. Not how you expected your day to go, to say the least. “I’m okay. I think.”

Steve frowns, still concerned. “You could be in shock. Here, let’s get you up.” 

You start to get up on your own but the second you’re off him Steve jumps up and reaches out. You accept his hand, pulling yourself up from the dirty DC street and trying in vain to straighten out your clothes. Steve collects your messenger bag and has it ready to hand over as soon as you’re done fussing with your silk blouse that is definitely going to need a trip to the dry cleaners after this. “Thanks.” you give him a small smile as you take your bag. 

Steve feels his breath catch in the wake of your smile. You’re petite compared to him, your smart bun is a little mussed from the rolling and your cheeks are flushed. He tries to ignore his interest in your soft feminine curves but Steve would have to be blind not to notice you. Almost a hundred years old and he still doesn’t know how to act around a pretty girl. Idiot. Useless, his demons hiss. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee,” he blurts out before his brain can catch up, “If you’re in shock then I can at least keep an eye on you for a bit.” 

First he saves your life, now he’s offering you coffee. Captain America indeed. “You don’t have to, really. I was going to just stop in at La Columbe on my way to work.” 

“I was headed there too! Come on, I’ll feel a lot better knowing you’re not gonna pass out the second the shock wears off.” Steve gives you his very best earnest expression, “Please? I’m Steve, by the way.” he adds as an afterthought.

“Hi Steve.” you try not to laugh. Like you hadn’t recognized the literal symbol of America. “I’m Y/N.” 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. So, coffee?” 

“Sure, why not?” you agree. Steve’s face lights up like the sun and you’re blinded by it. Part of you wonders if the truck actually hit you and you’re dead, or maybe in a coma dreaming. Only the slight ache in your shoulder gives you confidence that this surreal experience is your real life.

You follow Steve down the block to your favorite coffee shop, making small talk along the way by explaining you work at the library two blocks over. You’ve run the children's programs and adult literacy group there for the past four years. Steve seems genuinely interested in your work which is both surprising and sweet. 

There’s no line at the coffee shop so you take a minute to pick your drink while Steve orders his usual Americano and a bag full of breakfast sandwiches. He looks bashfully over at you once he’s done, insisting you add your coffee to his tab. You settle on a smoked butterscotch latte, it’s been a while since you had one. You stop there every morning before work but never order the same drink twice in a row.

You try to get Steve to talk about himself while you wait for your drinks but he’s adorably vague. “Steve,” you stop him with a gentle hand on his forearm, “I know who you are. It’s okay.” 

Steve barks out a laugh, “Sorry. I forget sometimes. Okay then, I’m heading into the office to consult on a mission from last week. They have me review mission reports to make notes on how we can improve things in the future.” 

“That’s actually really cool.” you tell him. You would have said more but your orders are up and Steve hands you your paper to go cup. “Well, thanks for the drink, Steve. And the whole saving me thing.” you joke.

“Any time ma’am.” he quips, full of cheesy Captain America charm. You’re surprised and delighted to find he has a little bit of sass to him. “Really though,” he adds in a normal tone, “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“I am, thanks to you.” 

There’s an awkward moment before you part. You don’t want to come across as a crazy fangirl but you also want to talk to him again sometime. Then again, you’re a librarian who’s closest friends are books and he’s Captain freaking America. You squash down the impulse and part ways with a smile. At least you’ll have an interesting story to tell Ellen at work. 

A few days go by and Steve keeps hoping to see you again at the coffee shop. It’s completely ridiculous but he wants to check on you and make sure you’re okay. It also doesn’t hurt that you’re beautiful. Steve spends two days debating with himself if it would be creepy or kind to pop by the library to check on you. By Friday morning he’s talked himself into it as he wraps up his run. He throws on a smart looking button up shirt and makes sure his hair is slicked back nicely in a way Natasha insists is stylish. Fool. Impostor. Idiot. His head demons whisper as he checks himself in the mirror one last time. He forces himself to ignore them and heads out in the warm summer air. 

Steve realizes as he stands on the steps of the library that he doesn’t know your schedule. Or your last name. He steels himself for impending failure and heads inside. He can at least try. 

Your voice carries through the quiet library and it calms him immediately. “- and he hopped so high that his ears brushed the branches above. That’s good hopping thought little nutbrown hare…” 

Steve follows the sound of your voice across the library where he finds you sitting cross legged on a brightly patterned carpet in front of a small herd of preschoolers. Your tone and expressions keep the kids engaged as you read them a story and Steve is spellbound. He hangs back quietly leaning on a bookcase, watching you lead the group and waiting for you to finish. It doesn’t take long before the group disbands and you’re on your own to clean up after receiving a few enthusiastic hugs from the kids. 

“Hey, Y/N.” Steve says walking over to you. 

You look up, not having noticed him before. “Steve!” you try to stifle how excited you are by his presence. “How are you?”

“I’m okay. Thought I’d drop by to see how you’re doing.” 

“I’m fine, really. I promise. Your life saving skills are excellent.” 

“Glad I haven’t lost my touch being behind a desk.” 

“Definitely not.” you assure him, “So, anything I can help you with while you’re here?” 

Steve realizes he hadn’t thought much past seeing you again. “Could I take you out for a cup of coffee?” 

“I’m working right now.” Steve’s heart drops in his chest, “But I’ll be free for lunch around one.”

Lunch. Not just coffee, but an actual meal. Hope renews in Steve. “I can do that. I could pick you up here?” 

“Sure. There’s a few places around here, so we have options.” 

“Okay great,” Steve tries to reign in his enthusiasm, “I’ll see you then.” Steve gives you a blinding smile before you part ways and it makes you wonder if the fluttering feeling in your chest might be reciprocated after all. 

Steve arrives back at the library at one o’clock sharp, not really caring if it messes up his schedule at Shield. He never takes a real lunch, often just grabbing a tray of something in the cafeteria and dragging it back up to his office to eat while he works. It’s nice getting out in the warm sunshine in the middle of the day. Steve spots you coming out at the same time he’s heading up the stairs and he gives you a small wave. “Ready to go?” he calls as he meets you on the stairs. 

“Absolutely.” you grin, “What are you in the mood for?” 

“I eat just about anything.” 

“Me too. Um, there’s a really good taco truck around the corner. We could eat in the park?” 

“Sounds great.” Steve agrees easily. It’s not a conventional type of first date and that makes it almost more exciting to him. 

You show Steve the way to your favorite food truck where you have to suppress your surprise when he practically buys out the truck. He apologizes profusely, making sure the guys know if they need to wait on other people first he’s fine waiting. 

“Steve,” you finally attempt to get his attention, “You know it’s okay to order yourself a meal, right? You don’t have to keep apologizing, these guys are used to the lunch rush.” 

Steve’s cheeks redden and he rubs a hand on the back of his neck, a visible nervous tick. “I know.” he says, but his words don’t sound convincing even to himself. 

A few others do show up while you wait but as expected, the guys are used to the rush and have no trouble keeping up. After only a few minutes they’re calling Steve’s name and he hurries over to collect your bags. A pair of girls are eyeing him as he accepts the food, whispering in the least subtle way possible. They can’t be more than twenty and they’re frantically typing on their phones as they whisper. 

“Are you, Captain America?” the braver of the two asks him.

“Yes, ma’am.” Steve replies. His tone is friendly yet guarded and you watch him with curiosity. 

The girls giggle, and the other speaks up, “I did a whole history project on you and the Howlies a few years ago. You’re a real inspiration.” 

“Um… thank you.” Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously again. “You ladies have a nice day.” He’s moving away before they can even say goodbye, making a beeline for you.

Finding a picnic table over by the shade trees Steve lays out the food, your taco platter looking pitiful next to his spread. Steve’s shoulders start to loosen a little as you start chatting about your day. You see him cringe when the girls from earlier walk past, but they don’t stop or say anything, only giving him quick little waves as they pass by. 

“That has to be a little overwhelming.” you comment mildly.

“Hmm?” Steve hums, mouth full of taco.

“Being recognized all the time.” you clarify. “It has to be a little overwhelming.” 

Steve nods, “Yeah, I’m still getting used to it. I just don’t get it. I’m really nothing special.” 

You laugh lightly, “Steve, you’re Captain America. You’re not special, you’re extraordinary.” 

“I’m just a kid from Brooklyn who never learned to stand down in a fight.” he shrugs. 

“And grew up to save the world. Twice.” 

“Nah, I had a lot of help with that.”

“You really suck at letting people compliment you, you know that?” you tease.

Steve sighs, shaking his head, “I just don’t get it. I don’t want to be Cap all the time. Sometimes I just want to be Steve Rogers.” 

“Well there’s your problem then.” Steve looks at you expectantly to continue. “Because Steve Rogers is pretty damn extraordinary too.” 

Steve stares at you for a stunned moment. He doesn’t even know how to respond to adequately express how much your words mean to him. No one has wanted Steve just for himself since Peggy and that had been a lifetime ago. For once the demons in his head are silent. Steve takes a long, steadying breath before speaking. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Nothing to thank me for. Now, tell me, what does Steve Rogers do for fun?”

Steve laughs at the topic change. “Have you heard of the show Parks and Recreation?”

“That is literally the best show.” you give your words a Chris Traeger inflection and watch as a wide smile breaks out on Steve’s face.

“Nice. Well, I’m watching that right now. I’m about halfway through the list of important things to watch and this show’s actually pretty good.” 

“You have a list? What else is on it?” you wonder who made it for him and if any other of your favorite shows are on it.

“How much time do you have?” Steve jokes.

“For you, I have all the time in the world.” 

But you didn’t have all the time in the world. You didn’t need to get back to the library for the next group until 3:30 and you had thought that would be more than enough time. Instead the minutes flew by as you talked with Steve and by the time you finish, you’re racing back to the library to make it there on time. Talking with Steve was as easy as breathing and you were disappointed when you realized you were out of time. You had kept the conversation on generic ‘getting to know you’ topics, keeping away from anything Avengers related since he seemed uncomfortable talking about his public persona. While a tiny part of your brain had swooned over Captain America at first, you’re currently swooning over Steve Rogers himself. He’s kind, surprisingly funny, and as you suspected, genuinely a good man. 

“Y/N, wait!” Steve calls out, causing you to stop in the doorway to the library. You had already said your goodbyes but Steve’s mouth had gotten ahead of his brain yet again. 

You look to him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

He takes a long breath, bracing himself against his own nerves.“Can we do this again sometime?”

“Yeah, Steve. We can.”

[kingofdirtandnothing]

@polyfacetious big ass Christmas Drabble Extravagaza: Day Eighteen

This isn’t the first time Clark has been interviewed about the farm. He remembers being about twelve years old, sitting on the front of the tractor while his dad talked about immigrating, and starting fresh on an entirely different continent. 

The reporter at the time was a beautiful woman, with dark hair and bright blue eyes. She had smiled and took notes, and even asked questions that went beyond the breadth of the “fluff piece” this was supposed to be. 

Clark always had a soft spot for reporters after that. They were people searching for the truth. That truth had to be harsh sometimes. They had to work hard and chase leads and bring light to unsavory things. 

But sometimes, a good story was just talking about life, and making other people feel good. It was a balance that Clark could respect. Because he knew as much as anyone how difficult it was to find balance in your work. 

Because Clark loved what he did. He loved the farm, he loved continuing on his parent’s legacy. But there were days that he wondered what it would be like to chase stories, to go on adventures, to peel back the layers of the world and find what was waiting beneath. 

Those were the days he took a little longer out on the tractor. Clark was a known daydreamer. His mom always liked to tell people that he had that faraway look in his eye the day that they met, even though he was three months old. 

(That’s another story he finds himself daydreaming about chasing. Finding out who his biological parents were. Why they didn’t want him.)

But those were thoughts for another time. Because there was a reporter back on the Kent farm again, and Clark needed to focus on that. This wasn’t the classy woman with her wedge shoes and her big pearl earrings from his childhood. This was a young man, dark headed and dark eyed, wearing a flannel shirt and work boots. (He’d have an easier time getting around the farm than Ms. Lane did.)

The one thing they did have in common was the bright light of curiosity in their eyes. 

“Farm fresh is one of those things you see written all over packages in the grocery store, right? They say that it’s farm fresh butter, or farm fresh cheese, and that’s almost never the case.” Clark has been practicing his little speech since he first got the email from Mr. Stilinski about wanting to come to the farm and interview him.

It’s going pretty good, if Clark can say so himself. 

“But farm to table? That’s exactly what the name implies. We work with local businesses to get them fresh produce, fresh dairy, and even fresh meat at certain times of the year.” Clark had thought about going into the logistics of meat production in a small scale business, but that kind of stuff probably wasn’t palatable. No one really wanted to know where their beef, chicken or duck was coming from. 

So he would keep to the easier things. Harvesting vegetables and fruit, and milking the cows. Everyone always got a kick out of milking the cows. 

“And I think that’s something to take pride in. Not that there’s anything wrong with mass produced food, everyone needs to eat.” There was a lot wrong with mass produced food, especially meat. Carbon emissions were a problem, as well as the discarding of less than attractive looking fruit and vegetables. But this wasn’t Clark’s pulpit. This was about the farm. 

“I like being able to walk down the street and know that what we’re doing here at the farm is nourishing people. And that it’s making them happy, too.” Clark looks over at Mr. Stilinski, who’s told him twice now to call him Stiles, but he can’t stop him from thinking about him as Mr. Stilinski, and grins. 

“We’ve come a long way from parents just slopping veggies out of a can and onto a plate.” Not that his mom ever did that. Martha Kent wasn’t a fancy cook, but she was a good one. She knew how to make the most out of what they pulled out of the ground at the farm. A little homemade butter and some herbs went a long way when it came to green beans. 

Stiles is taking notes on his phone, Clark can see his thumbs flying. That itching urge to check the screen over the top of his shoulder is there, but Clark squashes it down. It wouldn’t be polite. 

It also wouldn’t be polite to let Stiles walk into that cow patty that was right in front of him. They were crossing the pasture because it was the fastest way to get from the barn out to the fields. But it was a mine field out here, and Mr. Stilinski was about to step into one stinky mine. 

“Watch out.” But Stiles was still lifting a foot. Clark reaches out to grab slim shoulders in his hand, turning Stiles just about fifteen degrees to the left so that he bypasses the cow patty and can walk on. “Sorry. Didn’t want you to get your shoes dirty.”

Clark waits, a beat of silence as those big dark eyes zero in on him. “Dirtier. Because you’re in the dirt already. And that’s dirty. So…” Great. He sounded like an idiot. But Clark couldn’t help it. Those were the prettiest brown eyes he’d ever seen. 

Not that he was going to say or do anything about it. Clark spent enough time as a kid watching men hit on his mother when she was just trying to get her work done. That wasn’t how you showed interest in somebody. Clark was just going to let the man do his job and keep that appreciation to himself.

But Stiles just grins right back at him, and Clark breathes out a sigh of relief. “We could go into the paddock, if you wanted to see them up close and personal.” Not an improvement, Kent. “The cows. Not the cow patties. You don’t want to see them close up.”

Before he can say anything else dumb, Clark shifts away from the path towards the fields. They could go look at rows of carrots and potatoes after this. The cows were more fun, and they always appreciated the company. 

(There was more than one reason they only slaughtered once a year. Clark had a bad habit of getting attached to the cows and the pigs and ducks and chickens.)

The cows are already milling near the front of the paddock. They’re not used to being penned up during the day, so they’re curious about the change. “Alright guys, make a little room, make a little room.” Clark’s voice is soft with amusement as he nudges his way into the paddock, shoulder brushing against Stiles as he reaches behind him to shut the paddock gate behind them both. 

If they got loose now, there would be no rounding them up before nightfall. And that meant he’d put a heck of a kink in this whole interview plan. 

“I don’t know how much you’ve been around cows…” Clark tries not to assume things about people. Of course, the first time he laid eyes on Stiles, his thoughts wouldn’t have gone to reporter. So he’s not going to make any assumptions here. “But they’re pretty much like big, laid back labradors.”

Case in point, Krypto, a big old white lab who hadn’t made his way off of the porch at all when Stiles showed up. Clark had mumbled ‘some guard dog you are’ and gotten a wag of the tail for his trouble. 

“They’re curious. They’ll want to smell you.” Clark laughs as he’s jostled to the side and has to shift his stance a little wider to make room for him to stand without getting knocked over. “And they don’t realize how much they weigh. So they’ll bump into you, thinking you’re just another cow and you’ll brush it off.”

Clark reaches out, scratching behind a big ear. “This is Bessie.” He sees the look from Stiles, and laughs. “Yeah, I know. I’m not the most creative guy these days. I used that all up on Krypto.” He gestures back towards the big farm house, and the wrap around porch where his white lab was currently sunning himself, belly turned up towards the streaming sunlight.

“Bessie is one of our dairy cows. She makes the milk, which helps us make the butter and cheese.” There’s a big nose pushing into his stomach, and Clark reaches out absently to keep one of the other cows from knocking Stiles over, a big palm against his back. 

“Sorry. They mean well. They’re just…” Clark laughs. “Fat isn’t the nicest word I can think of, but it’s the only one coming to mind right about now.”

Clark chews on his lip for a minute, and tries to remember where he’s at in his bullet points for this interview. It’s long gone, because he didn’t even plan to bring Stiles over here with the cows to begin with. 

But it’s feeling nice and worth it because Stiles is smiling down at the two cows who have bunched up in front of him. Clark watches as the reporter scratches behind ears and under chins, cooing sweet nonsense to the cows that were eating up the attention. 

“We do a lot less meat sales these days.” Clark admits sheepishly. “I don’t have the heart for it. I was lucky when I was a kid that my dad never made me help when it came time for culling the herd. I got to stay inside. So now that he’s retired, I only really sell meat in special circumstances.”

Even the chickens and the ducks were too sweet for Clark to butcher them. It just wasn’t in his nature. His dad liked to call him a soft touch. Clark is pretty sure that’s just the polite word for ‘pansy’ that his dad chose. 

“We also have a small amount of rescue animals.” Clark cranes his neck, looking around at the milling cows to try and find who he was looking for. There’s a soft ‘aha’ and Clark points to the back. “That’s Petunia. She was abandoned when another farmer closed up shop. When we found her, she was all skin and bones.”

And Clark had spent more than a few nights in the barn with her, trying to get her to eat and feel better. Thankfully, the winters didn’t get too cold here, but there was at least one night that Clark slept under a blanket in the pen with her, until she was well enough to join the herd. 

“We’ve got a duck named Popcorn who my mom found in a parking lot.” He shakes his head, warm and fond. “Little guy flew right into her open truck window and sat down. He was ready to go. So Mom said it was meant to be.” 

Stiles is watching him again, though his fingers are still scratching absently at whichever cow was near enough to be under his fingers. “So you’re not the only one around here who’s adopted.”

It’s not a question, and Clark is caught off guard by the words. Stiles must have read the other article on the farm, even though it was probably printed before he was born. That was the only way Clark can think of that he would know that Clark was adopted. 

“Yeah.” Clark agrees softly after a moment of thought. He nods, and feels the words really settle into him. “Yeah, we’re big on adoption around here.” For a moment, Stiles looks like he’s thinking about apologizing. But he smiles when Clark smiles. 

“And since you’re here, why don’t you go ahead and help me get everyone fed? That way you get a feel for what a day in the life on the Kent farm is really like.”

[scribeofmorpheus]

Robin’s Girl [1/4]

Pairing: Robin x (OC) Clara | Steve Harrington x Reader

Sequel to: Meet Cute

Chapter Title: Cherry Bomb  | Words: 2k

Note: This takes place post S3. Some spoilers maybe? Highly recommend you listen to the playlist for the aesthetic. Two stories unfold at once. One focusing on Clara x Robin and the other on Steve x MeetCute!Reader

Playlist by Ari ♥

~

Steve watched the clock like a hawk, his leg getting jittery at the fact the seconds weren't ticking faster. When the long hand reached half passed, he chucked his work vest off and vaulted over the counter like some terrible ninja -shelf restaking be damned.

"Keys, keys, keys!" Steve energetically snapped his fingers at Robin who was still behind the video store counter closing up the till for next shift. She struggled to get out of her own work vest, fumbling with the zip as she chucked the keys at him.

"Alright, jeez Harrington." She said slightly annoyed at his nagging. He'd been hopping around like a rabbit on cocaine all day. Suffice to say, Robin was a little exhausted by his newfound energy.

"Come on, come on, come on!" Harrington persisted in hurried words, extending his hand for her.

Robin rolled her eyes as she sat on the counter and spun around. She took his outreached hand and Steve all but pulled her off the counter, sprinting to the car park on fumbling legs.

"Slow down, dingus!" Robin shouted in protest after nearly tripping twice.

Behind them, their boss was fuming, "Hey you still have three minutes on the clock!"

Steve had already backed his shitty replacement car out of the parking lot, knocking over a cardboard video store cut-out, and sped down the road -tires screeching like nails on a chalkboard.

"I swear to god Harrington, if you kill us… I'll be the most annoying ghost you've ever seen!" Robin promised.

Steve laughed as he fished his sunglasses from the glove compartment and jammed a tape into the car radio.

***

You stood by the bus station, two large suitcases parked next to you. You had a heart-shaped lollipop tucked in your cheek. The sun was kept at bay by your pair of cheesy heart-shaped sunglasses you won at a society bash in college. Music playing through your headphones connected to your Walkman, it barely held together thanks to the many cliché stickers taped around it. You were listening to your favourite mixtape. It was a travel mix Steve gave you before you left for college.

The sound of tires screeching a few feet in front of you alerted you of the fact your favourite human was finally here. A big goofy grin swept across your slightly tanned face as you all but jumped up and ran towards him -dropping your walkman and headphones. Steve hopped out of his car and met you halfway, leaving his car door open. Unbeknownst to him, the car started to roll the instant he picked you up in a bone-crushing hug, twirling you around like you weighed nothing. The girl sat in his car panicked for a brief moment before sliding into the driver’s seat and hitting the brakes.

"God damn it, Harrington!" She shouted after him as she put the car in park.

"Hey, gorgeous..." Steve muttered into your ear ignoring the fact he had almost crashed his car without him in it.

"Hey yourself," you cooed as your noses were a hair's breadth away.

"Well," Steve tilted his head to the side causing that stubborn curl you loved to bounce about, "Are you going to kiss me or what?"

You stood on your tippy-toes and nuzzled closer to him, "Abso-freaking-lutely!"

Your lips locked for the first time in ages and by god did it feel just as nerve tingly and electric as you remember. His tongue coaxed a giddy sigh from your throat as you let the feeling of homecoming wash over you.

Robin pressed down on the horn after snatching Steve's second pair of sunglasses from the glove box, "Hey lovebirds, don't we have another stop to make before you eat each other's faces off?"

Steve’s thumb nudged his nose as he took a slight exasperated inhale, "You see what I've had to deal with while you were away?" He said softly.

You giggled, dusting off your walkman as you pulled one suitcase while Steve got the other, "It seems to me Harrington, she's the one keeping you functional." You teased.

"The apple of my eye wounds me!" He protested dramatically. When Steve shooed Robin to the back, he introduced you. "Robin this is Y/N. Y/N, Robin."

Robin rolled her eyes, "And here I thought you were smacking lips with a complete stranger." She retorted sarcastically before beaming a warm smile your way. "It's great to finally meet you. Steve has told me everything about you. None stop. All the time. It drives me crazy."

"Likewise," you winked back.

***

"Thanks for the ride," Clara hollered at the truck driver as she jumped off, duffle bag slung across her shoulder. The truck driver honked twice before re-joining the main road.

Clara looked up at the signpost welcoming her back to Hawkins. She blew a large bubble with her tutti-frutti flavoured gum and it erupted with a satisfying pop noise. "The end of nowhere… Home, sweet home."

Clara trekked along the side of the road, her Docs clomping loudly against the tarmac. The summer heat was bearing down on her in all its glory, so she shrugged off her leather jacket and stuffed it into her duffle bag before taking off her red and blue flannel shirt and tying it around the waistband of her ripped jeans.

Clara fixed the ray bans that rested on the crown of her head back onto her eyes, lowering a purple filter over the world. The blue tips of her hair flying wildly with the wind. She could just make out a shitty car driving down towards her. Her favourite song blaring out the windows as she caught sight of her best friend's head hanging out the window -hair blowing furiously. In the driver's seat, her boyfriend smiled like an idiot and seated in the back seat was another girl. She looked familiar; pretty, big eyes and wearing a mickey mouse shirt. Clara smirked at that.

The car pulled over and her best friend slid out the window, rather than open the door like a damn normal person, and nearly knocked her over in an energetic hug.

"Clara! I've missed you, you bone head!" She said in a high squeak.

"Hey, goofball! I love you from here to the moon, but you're blocking the oxygen to my brain..." Clara dramatically wheezed. "I see you've brought your security blanket with." Clara waved with one hand at Steve. He waved out his window.

"Don’t be jealous, you know you are still my favourite moody security blanket. Steve is just a better cuddler, is all." Y/N smacked her arm playfully. "Come on, let's get you out of this heat and to some frosty beverages!"

"About damn time! My mascara was about to melt off my face!" Clara joked as she walked arm linked in arm with her best friend back to the car.

Clara tossed her duffle bag in the trunk and hopped in beside the new girl.

"Clara," she offered her hand adorned with too many concert bands and cheap rings.

The girl took one look at the name on Clara's band shirt and smiled with recognition, "Robin." She said as she shook her hand.

"I know," Clara said with cheek. "We were in band together. I looked different then. I wore more denim, less leather. My hair was blonde then too."

Robin pulled her mouth to the side in thought until it finally clicked, "Your hair was longer and you always got in trouble for taking over practice with your drum solo's!" She pointed out in recognition.

"And you played the trombone!" Clara said.

"Look at that, honey. I didn't have to introduce the kids to each other!" Steve joked in a motherly tone.

"Mr Perfect Hair! I see you haven't gotten a haircut yet." Clara retorted with spunk as she smacked Steve's chest a little too hard. He let out an 'oof' sound. "So, King Steve, still scooping ice-cream?"

"Ha-ha!" He laughed sarcastically. "You keep being such a smart ass and I won’t be your designated free ride into town anymore."

Clara gave him the bird and Steve returned it. The atmosphere familiar and chipper.

"Onwards Captain, to the milkshake parlour!" Y/N ordered with childish excitement.

***

"Anyone got a quarter?" Clara asked at the booth. Her plate was wiped clean, the only remnant of food was the random splodge of ketchup and amount of salt. She sucked down on her vanilla shake while giving her friends the puppy dog eye look.

Steve removed his arm from around Y/N's shoulders and patted down his pockets then gave her a frown, "Sadly I spent my last bit of change on the photo booth with this silly goose," he chimed, tickling Y/N's sides until she turned red from giggling too much. She squirmed about like a sugar high toddler, shrinking lower into the seat to try and get away from Steve's frisky hands.

Clara and Robin both let out sighs as they rolled their eyes in unison.

Robin tossed a French fry at Steve, "Get a room you two!"

Clara winked at her with approval, stealing two fries in the process.

"Hey, that's theft buddy," Robin tutted as she whacked Clara's hand lightly. "You better be willing to pay for those."

"I'll make it up to you," Clara smirked, her tone much more sonorous than before.

Y/N flickered her eyes to her best friend, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. A wicked smile playing across her face when she noticed Clara's flirting tone. Steve finally let up with his tickle attack and Y/N's giggled died out as she took a slurp of her near finished shake.

Clara clicked her tongue with a bit of cheek, averting her eyes to play things smooth. Robin reached into her shorts and pulled out a row of quarters.

"Here," she offered Clara with reddened cheeks.

"Thanks, babe." She said without thinking twice. Clara waltzed over to the jukebox and queued *Cherry Bomb*.

As the music swelled, she bobbed her head, hair swaying around her face, doing an awkward shimmy dance. Steve bobbed his head slightly as he and Y/N started thumb wrestling.

"If I win Harrington," She said with a serious expression. "We're having a zombie movie marathon!"

"And if I win, we're spending date night holed up on my couch while I babysit Henderson and the rest of those little troopers!" Steve scoffed.

"Sounds like an excuse to make out," Robin remarked to herself as she took a swig of her cherry cola.

Clara reached her hands out by their booth, "Come on you disgustingly sweet muppets, come dance with me!"

Y/N held up one finger from her free hand, "One sec, I gotta win this!" Her tongue stuck out as she tried to focus her efforts on keeping Steve's thumb off hers.

"Killjoys!" Clara boo'd before turning to Robin and hooking two fingers. "Come on, Robin! Let's show these boring wet blankets how to have fun!"

Robin stalled for a moment and then skittishly scooched out of the booth. Clara fearlessly grabbed her hands and shook them about, they looked like two graceless gazelles learning to walk. The room filled with laughs and huffs as other people looked over to the two giddy girls letting loose.

Once the song ended they returned to the booth. Y/N was nursing a half-moon frown, evidence that she lost the thumb war.

"Don't be such a sore loser, goofball." Clara teased.

Y/N pouted even more, until Steve showered her cheek with loud kisses, making her blush all over again.

"So, Steve told me you went on tour with a band?" Robin asked with attentive eyes, her head resting on her laced fingers.

"Mm-Hmmm!" Clara hummed as she hungrily sucked down the last of her milkshake. Y/N noticed how thirsty she still was and slid her milkshake in offering. Clara nodded a thank you and turned back to Robin. "I was a roadie. Played drums on some gigs. I got my first tattoo to commemorate my first big city gig. The lead drummer got food poisoning so I stepped up."

"You got a freaking tattoo without telling me?" Y/N nearly toppled the drinks over when her knee jerked into the table with surprise. "We promised to get our first tattoos together."

Clara shrugged, "It was a heat of the moment thing. I'll still be with you when you get your first one…" she eyed her best friend knowingly. "If you ever get one."

"Let's see it?" Steve urged her.

Clara rolled up her t-shirt sleeve to reveal a tattoo of a smartly inked dandelion.

"Huh," Steve said unimpressed. "I was expecting a skull or one of those barbed wire tattoo's most of the band members’ have."

Clara let out a huff of air, "The name of the club I played in was called the Black Dandelion. It seemed sporting. And not too complicated. Besides, how did you know the band members have those exact tattoos?"

"What?" Steve sounded offended. "I read… occasionally."  

"I can't wait to get out of Hawkins. After everything, seeing a big city would be a breath of fresh air," Robin mused dreamily.

"Hawkins is alright if you're like twelve or a middle-aged suburban housewife, but trust me when I tell you nothing beats playing in a big city. The energy, the colour… the music! You guys would love it!" Clara beamed.

"I know what you mean. The vibe of my campus is just so much more different than anything else around here," Y/N added. "Steve I know you'd just love the energy there, plus we could even get an apartment together, take the subway into town, see concerts--"

Steve shut her up by placing an unexpected kiss on her lips, "Easy there, tiger. You've barely been here a couple of hours. Let's leave the college application discussion for another day." He kept his finger under her chin while her lips stayed agape.

"Fine, you may have thwarted my attempts today, but we will talk about this," she promised.

Clara and Robin ignored them as they talked about their time in band and all the things they had in common.

***

Steve waited for Y/N to return from her house with a small overnight bag. Clara was drumming a tune on her exposed knee while absentmindedly listening to the radio. Robin yawned as she kept her head out the window.

When Y/N returned, she had a large grin on her face. "Okay, my parents think I'm staying over at Clara's!"

"Aren't you two a little too old to be playing the 'I'm staying at a friend’s house when I'm actually sneaking off to spend the night at my boyfriend’s empty house' routine?" Clara said with air quotes.

"No one ever outgrows mischief, Clara." Y/N lectured. "You simply perfect it."

"Let me know when you do!" Clara snorted, making Robin titter as well.

***

Once Clara had been dropped at her house, she unlocked the front door using the secret hide-away key stored under the porch frog. Her parents were out on holiday in Hawaii so she had the whole house pretty much to herself.

After putting on the tea kettle, Clara perused through the bookshelf looking for her high school yearbook. When she found it, she flipped through the pages looking for one person in particular: the beguiling and funny spirited Robin.

"Bingo!" She said in triumph when she spotted her class photo. She giggled at the innocent girl in the photograph with braces and a high ponytail. Clara hoped it wasn't her imagination playing tricks on her because she could have sworn she felt something click between her and Robin. "Robin… cute name."

***

Steve raced to keep up with his bubbly girlfriend as she burst through the front doors of his house.

"Slow down, Y/N!" He panted out after she challenged him to a race to see who could get to his house from the driveway the fasted.

"I win! You lose!" She did a little victory dance. "Now go make that popcorn while I set up the VHS!"

Steve groaned, "Fine, but we're only watching one movie. I haven't seen you in forever and I need my mandatory cuddles."

"If you behave, you'll get cuddles and a little surprise..." she teased flirtatiously.

"Popcorn! Coming up!" He ran to the kitchen with newfound energy.

***

Next Chapter Presents: Rollerskates and Cheap Dates!

If you enjoyed this story don’t be afraid to like, reblog or comment. I don’t bite. Also, taglist is open just send an ask.

 Tags:  @theconscientiouswriter @chims-kookies @electroma89 @thechickvic @gruffle1  @notawarriorjustyet @mochminnie

[jamiebluewind]

Fantasy High Characters 2.8

As always, let me know if I need to edit or add anything and tag/ask/PM me about art and stories so I can check them out!

***

New Characters

Three Elves from Falinel

3 beautiful wizard elves in long flowing robes

Surrounded by motes of silvery white light

At least 1 has a will o whisp in their ear used to communicate

Serene and filled with arcane energy

One used a globe of invulnerability (probably Kear)

Unnamed Conjurer Elf Wizard

Beefer with light mage armor and thick long red braided hair

Summoned a large sized air elemental (size of a small truck) with 90 movement

Unnamed Goth Elf Wizard

Porcelain skin with jet black hair covering left eye and black robes

Uses fesh to stone (6th level spell) on Adaine

Smiles and walks away once they have Adaine back at the tower

Kear

Pronounced key-heir or khear

Name spelling unknown, but Kir was the spelling on closed captioning

Wizard

Most serene

Extremely young child-like elven maiden with long brown braided hair and a white gown

Banished Tracker, but failed to charm Adaine during the battle

"You did a very noble thing. You saved your friends' lives."

Used detect thoughts on Adaine and asked "When was the last time you saw your mother?"

***

Modified Characters (with added facts)

Aelwyn Abernant

Kept in large large beautiful elven chamber with silver and marble with ambiant light glowing from the white stone

Trapped inside a 15 foot diameter orb that's constantly turning so she can't trance

Stuck crawling on her hands and knees, shaking with the effort of it

Severely trance deprived (probably hasn't been allowed to for nearly a year) with thick bags under her eyes

5 levels of exhaustion with some kind of magic the only thing keeping her from death

(more info in 2.9)

James Wicklaw

Fought with his saber in right hand and the crown in left

Brought 8 crew plus himself to menace the party while the rest of his crew went into the row

Injures the crew with him in order to injure the party, stunning all but Cathilda, Sandra Lynn, and Riz.

Has legendary actions (attack and teleport out of initiative order), mind blast, and tried to eat Gorgug's brain

Shot by a pistol square in the stomach. After he goes prone, a horrifying blast of something in his gut goes off as he shutters and goes still. But it was a trick to get Riz close so he could shoot him point blank.

Gorgug got the killing blow on Wicklaw after Fig heavily damaged him. Wicklaw's body fell into the Row.

The other pirates killed Wicklaw's remaining crew after he died

Fabian

Lost champion subclass and lost all fighter class features while keeping proficiency bonus, base stats, and hit points

No coat and 2 levels of exhaustion

Took a single hand crossbow shot which missed and spent the rest of the fight stunned.

Was repeatedly shot by Wicklaw

Gorgug had a private talk with Fabian to try to help. So did Kristen. Then Gilear came up and threatened him Gilear for 250 gold.

Fabian's mother's family have lands near the tower Adaine is being kept.

Cathilda

Dark steal sabers (scimitar type swords)

"Time for talk's over." Then got a nat20 on Wicklaw and sliced off one of his tentacles.

Feels pure determination more powerful than James can feel hatred and protects herself from his stun

Can give allies a reroll as reaction

Kicks just... so much ass.

To Riz "Is almost died the same as having died?"

Van

Was crashed by Gilear

Loaded with provisions by Jamina, Garthy, and Ayda

***

Other Characters

Anguin Abernant

Adaine's father

4th elf in the battle that was hidden in the beginning under greater invisibility

Enchanter subclass wizard

Casts dominate person on Adaine twice (and fails)

"Adaine. This is unbecoming. You are behaving rashly and irrationally."

Adaine

Resisted charms and dominate person while also breaking stun and flesh to stone.

Agreed to go with the elves to Falenel to save her friends.

*Adaine as she is falling through motes of light in elven teleportation, using sending to reach out to Ayda* Help. My friends are being killed in the Row and the Ruction. Please help them. *as Adaine appears in a place that is filled with darkness, she hears Ayda reply* Your friends are my friends.

Tries to escape with Misty Step (dispelled by Angine), Greater Invisibility (dispelled by Kir after Kir used True Sight), and Misty Step (dispelled)

Laid down on the ground on her stomach (magicly manacled by conjurer elf and led to her tower)

Allowed to keep Boggy

Hides under her blankets when Kear and Anguin comes in

Failed on detect thoughts save

Can tell where she is by looking at the stars

Was moved to an orb room (Kear: And do you intend to cooperate or will you be as problematic as we anticipate you might? / Adaine: What possible advantage to me or my friends can helping you give me?)

Kristen

Warding bond with Fabian

Was stunned entire fight and surrounded by icecream sandwiches (which she asked for help)

Gorgug

Relentless endurance

40 movement

Nearly got his brain eaten by Wicklaw.

After killing blow on Wicklaw, "Hey... I'm actually Fabian now."

Fig

Took a level in hex blade warlock

Hex blade cursed Wicklaw

Took enemy to hell with hellish rebuke before she was knocked out. (Fig: Did you see when I dragged that guy to hell with me? / Sandra Lynn: Horrifying. You're wonderful.)

"Adaine I used my everything to try and save you!"

Got 1300 points (with no actual value) for her sick shredding with her skateboard in the Ruction.

Snatched the crown after Wicklaw was killed and skatboarded away. Wanted to take crown away from Leviathan so there will never be a king, but let Fabian put it back on the head in Gibity Square.

Captured Wicklaw's soul

Is suspicious of Cathilda because she is "too good to be true".

"Look, the nightmare king could be anyone but my six friends."

Got Wicklaw's crystal saber which is like touching a live wire, but also filled with hatred

Riz

*while hiding in the rafters* "Fabian no! Don't be a coward!"

Arquebus has 60 foot range and he has 30 speed

He was the perfect person to dodge fists in the Row (while conscious)

"I have such bad athletes. Truly, I have minus two strength."

Failed two death saves (from the pirates stomping him) when he was knocked unconscious (from a slash from Wicklaw) and fell into the Row. Called to Fabian to save him while unconscious.

Riz: Hey Fabian? I think we all saw this going a little bit more epicly, but Adaine is gone. She sacrificed herself to save us and it kninda shows that it's not the end. We gotta keep going. So, we didn't bring our A game this time, but we can still - it keeps going. You'll be the hero next time. / Fabian: Yeah the ball. Next time. Next time. / Riz: Who... Hoot Growl? Is that what we say when we get pumped?/ Fabian: Yes. We say hoot growl.

Riz to Ayda: I think I have a lot of friends sometimes but then everyone's mean to me.

Wanted to talk to Fabian in private after the battle, but didn't get a chance due to Gorgug, Kristen, and Gilear

Sandra Lynn

Battle command: let's an ally attack an enemy on her turn as a bonus action

Can heal

Shouldered Wicklaw away from Gorgug (saving him from having his brain eaten) causing them both to fall into Row.

Knocked unconscious in the Row after stabbed through chest by Wicklaw but then healed by Fig.

Tracker

Was banashed to a maze world for the whole fight

Helped heal the party then "healed" Kristen privately

Ragh

Finished 1 pirate and then stunned for part of the fight before he was able to get up and fight/help again

Gilear

Passed out in the van due to the airbag.

"Very well. I will go into the back of the van. If anyone needs me, I will be surprised."

Threatened Fabian for 250 gold after he was acosted by a man who said he would kill him unless he gave him 250 gold. ("You need to shut the fuck up because I'm a dead man unless I get 250 gold pieces. You're down here with me now all right? Your rich. I'm not. Help me. Please help me.")

Ayda

Joined party temporarily to save her friend Adaine

Offered to teleport everyone and created a firy orange rune to do it.

***

Location Info

Ka'lethriel Tower

Beautiful courtyard

Smooth rounded marble flagstones are set into the garden

Look like a very zen meditative type of place.

There are high walls around the courtyard as well as towers.

"Orb rooms" (to keep prisoners in a constant state of trance deprivation) as well as regular rooms.

Near the Lands of the Lomenelda

***

<- Previous

Next ->

[charmingturkeysandwich]

I Could Use a Love Song (2/22): where the whiskey drowns and the beer chases

Pairing: Emma Swan/Killian Jones (AU) Words: 3k(ish) Rating: T for this chapter, I’d say. (M overall) Chapter Summary: The band’s first day with their new roadie gets off to a shaky start.

Read on AO3.

---

Having grown used to shitty sleeping situations through foster homes, homelessness, couch surfing, and now touring, Emma awoke the next morning refreshed and ready to fight.

Yep, fight. Because the prior evening she’d been exhausted and hovering in that weird stage of drunk where you’re basically pre-hungover, and life had thrown a hot roadie at her. Except it wasn’t life that had done that. It was David. David who in the year of our lord 2019 most fucking certainly had a cell phone and could have shot her a text that a stranger was going to crash her quiet night alone.

Not that Killian crashed in any sense beyond sleep. They were seemingly both out before even the first song had finished playing through her speakers and he was still eyes-closed and breathing steady now that Emma was crawling over the seat and out the door, dead set on properly raging about the ridiculousness of this decision in addition to the lack of communication that shouldn’t exist among people who literally write words for a fucking living.

Seriously. How hard is it to send a text? Don’t wanna do your dirty work yourself, you can just tell Siri to piss of your bandmate on your behalf.

A little warning might have been nice. But she got none. So they weren’t getting any either.

“Rise and shine, motherfuckers!” Emma squawked as she flung open the door to David and Mary Margaret’s bedroom (they knew she had a copy of it, so really they should have thought twice before giving her no warning that she was going to have to deal with some weird ass alternate universe, very fuckable Captain Hook every single day for the foreseeable future. And pay him.

“Emma!” Mary Margaret gasped, yanking the comforter over what was probably her bare chest, but Emma didn’t bother to even glance at her. Accomplice in lack-of-communication, probably… but David was her object of fury.

Speaking of… “What the hell are you doing?!” he shouted, more confused than angry at her intrusion.

“I have a leather-jacket-wearing bone to pick with you, sir.”

“Aw, shit. You met Liam’s brother then?”

“Met him, slept with him, you know, the basic first steps in an employer-employee relationship.”

“Emma! You had sex with Killian?!” Mary Margaret sounded positively scandalized, which made sense for her own personality in addition to the fact that Emma hadn’t slept with anyone in … well it would probably be measured in years and not months, so. It would have been a shock if it were true.

“No, mom, but he slept in the van with me, which is my happy place. Not a place for strays.”

David stood up from the bed, raking his fingers through his hair in what looked like frustration or perhaps the pain of a hangover headache (good).

“We’re all strays, Emma. Can’t you be a little more accepting?”

“Can’t you be a little more with the warning?! You’re lucking I didn’t punch him when he approached me in a dark fucking alley, David.” Which was true. After much of the shit she suffered in her younger years, she didn’t take a chance or give anyone the benefit of the doubt if they seemed to have ill intentions.

He paused, daring blankly at her before taking a swig of the water next to their little bed. Light was just barely filtering through their curtains, so it was still early. No rush to hit the road quite yet, still time to get breakfast and drink their weights in coffee.

Usually the mornings were more pleasant than this.

Usually it was just the five of them in a diner, and usually she was listening to their post-gig stories, not sharing much of her own.

“Where did you leave him, then? Or did you already fire him?”

“Now, David, how could I fire someone I never even hired?! You remember we voted that we didn’t have the money to add staff.”

At that, Mary Margaret perked up, her back straightening as her mascara-smudged face scrunched in guilt. “That one is actually on me. We were on FaceTime with Killian and he’s just so… he’s in a bad place, Emma, and he needs money and people and we couldn’t just let him… “

“Go to the pound with the other strays? Fine. I get it. He doesn’t seem like the worst person in the world. But, like, give a girl a heads-up? And to answer your question, David, I left him soundly asleep in the van. I’m not a goddamn monster.”

Emma stormed out with no real destination in mind, just a deep craving for coffee and a bear claw and space from any other living human who might attempt to converse with her when she needed a minute to wallow in her semi-justified rage.

-

Of all the people to find her, of fucking course it was Killian.

Known him 12 hours or less and he was already the biggest pain in her ass.

“Swan, fancy seeing you here!” His voice was bright despite the wrinkles in this clothes and the hair that was no longer ‘artfully mussed,’ but more… hurricane-ravaged.

“Why are you so chipper?” is all she croaked back in response.

“Well I’ve already had an unpleasant encounter with Brother Dave and figured I would try to make this one a little less fraught with tension and don’t get any ideas about Emma you wanker.” Killian plopped down across from her, already clutching a coffee from somewhere that definitely was not the diner she’d wandered into and been sulking at for at least 2 hours.

“Why would he yell at you? And why are you calling him brother? And… just why?”

“Apologies, Swan, I assumed you’d had enough coffee and sugar to cope with me by now. I was warned of that. You see, apparently I was supposed to just go ‘sleep on a bench in a park’ or something to that effect and then not introduce myself to you or the rest of the crew until morning. Silly me. So David, who appears to think of himself as your father but who was best friends with my brother, proceeded to lecture me about how I’m not allowed to get in your pants. As if you didn’t have a say in the matter. Don’t worry, darling, I clarified that you will without a doubt never care for me beyond tolerance and he seemed to unbunch his knickers.”

“You know, Jones, if I’m not your love I’m probably not your darling, either.”

“Goodness sakes, woman, can you perhaps glean the important information from my babbling and not focus the filler?”

“Fine. Fuck your filler. We’re probably late for leaving by now, though,” Emma said, glancing at the clock on the wall and then at her message-filled phone. She rose from the table slowly, downing the rest of her lukewarm coffee and shoving a doughnut toward Killian in the process. “Shall we?”

He did some type of bow/curtsey nonsenense and flourished his arm toward the door as if to say ladies first and Emma stomped right past him, already 110% fed up with his weird country boy/Jane Austen hero attempt at chivalry when she knew he was no gentleman and she was no goddamn lady.

-

It appeared that the new guy had already met the rest of the team, Ruby fist bumping him and Graham giving him a hungover nod to acknowledge his return. David and Mary Margaret were blessedly silent about any of the morning’s arguments and simply hopped in the driver and passenger seats so they could meander over to the next tiny ass New York town full of Their People.

Some days were harder than others when it came to the places they played. None of them were the hellish ‘hometown’ she’d steadfastly refused to ever revisit, but each seemed to capture some kind of echo of her past. It was really a shame that scent was so tied to memory, because dive bars were smelly places. The right combination of Marlboro Menthol Lights, Miller, and whatever was in that black bottle from Avon and suddenly Emma was back at the Buckhorn, drinking to forget the hurt she hadn’t quite sustained yet, but was inevitably coming.

She always got past it. Rage was good like that, strong enough to overcome the heartbreak of individual memories. Whiskey helped, too.

Graham and Ruby were sprawled on either side of the middle row in the shabby van, both passed out (clearly they hadn’t done enough sleeping wherever it is either of them had gone the night before). David and Mary Margaret, meanwhile, were quietly singing to each other from the front, songs too cheesy for the other three bandmates to ever agree to allow to be performed on stage.

So that left her and Killian, the only two life forms currently active in actual reality.

“So what’s your story, Jones?

He rolled his head on his shoulders, sliding his line of sight from the video to meet her (probably too-harsh) stare. “What makes you think I have a story?”

“You’re on the road with a country band. In my experience you don’t get to that point without some stuff preceding it. Come on, Jones. Someone stole your truck, shot your dog, or screwed your wife. Which one?”

“Where are your manners, young lady, you definitely take a bloke to dinner before you ask for his Tragic Backstory. That’s got to be written somewhere. For shame!” he whisper-shouted, quite overdramatically.

Maybe he’d gotten his heart broken at drama camp.

“What else am I supposed to ask you? I don’t have much information to go on here.”

“Why don’t you start with, ‘Killian, it’s so nice to meet you. How about you tell me a little about yourself?’”

Her answering eye roll reminded her she hadn’t properly removed her makeup from the night before, not having taken her usual five minutes in the lovers’ hotel room bathroom to allow for proper skin care. Fuck, her pores were going to be pissed.

“I’m not quite that polite, but fine. We’ll have it your way. Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?”

That “little about himself” went on for about an hour, covering everything from his love of football to how underrated asiago cheese was on casual dining menus. They disagreed on silly subjects like the best fast food and what to take on a deserted island. They pretty much only agreed that David and Mary Margaret were insufferable and that love was for losers.

(And yes, that was the closest she got to unlocking even one small detail about his Tragic Backstory.)

They talked all the way to the next hole-in-the-wall bar, which did, in fact, like it might have some holes in it in the light of day.

“Thank the fucking lord we’re finally here. Will you two shut up now?” Ruby moaned into the seat cushion, apparently not as knocked out as Emma had assumed from her unmoving silence the entire ride.

“’s not our fault you two oafs don’t use the nighttime for sleeping,” Killian snarked back at her.

Hmm. Maybe they’d gotten more acquainted than Emma had realized.

Add that to the pile of Killian Jones-related mysteries.

-

Graham had been so exhausted, he didn’t even awake when the van emptied out, still snoozing even as they hauled all their shit into the bar. Just to be a jerk, Emma even tossed a drum stick at him. But he just grumbled and turned, unfazed by her minor assault.

“Hope he lost sleep for the good reason, if you know what I mean,” Killian said, as he bumped his shoulder into hers. He was carrying a guitar case in his right hand and had his left forearm wrapped around one of the boxes carrying electrical equipment.

“Yes, in that tone, I’m pretty sure people up in Vermont know what you mean?”

“I’m not sure about that one. Have you been to Vermont? I don’t think I’ve ever met a fuckable person from that whole state.”

“Don’t say that around David. I’m 99% sure he’d fuck Bernie Sanders.”

The two of them laughed so hard they almost dropped their very expensive equipment, especially when David, as if on cue, turned back toward them: “what’s in Vermont? There’s this ski place I’ve wanted to go to…”

Their laughter turned to near howling as poor, out-of-the-loop David rambled on about Mt. Snow being a great place to take a date and how exactly that could be so funny that two people who’d met last night had already been reduced to giggling middle schoolers.

-

Mary Margaret and Killian quickly started setting up for their set, even though they had a few hours until people would actually show (she was a worrier, and it was technically his first day on the job). So that gave the other slackers some time to rest and eat greasy food and hopefully get properly buzzed before the show so Emma didn’t have a random panic attack at some dude wearing a blue plaid shirt with pink Vans like Neal used to, once upon a time.

Catching up on the night before was usually their breakfast routine, but having avoided that, Emma assumed she’d just end up not knowing how Graham and Ruby had spent their time. Thankfully, both were perfectly happy to provide a secondary replay of their evenings.

Well, Ruby was happy to. See, she hadn’t done anything scandalous the night before. No fucking strangers for her! Turns out, a friend of hers from college lived in that little town and she’d gone over to her place to catch up. Friends old and new were there and she mostly missed out on sleep for conversation and a few truly ridiculous board games (who played Chutes and Ladders when they were plastered?).

Graham, on the other hand, had not had as enjoyable an evening. He’d met a girl, a very pretty girl, and she’d asked him back to her place. He had enthusiastically agreed right up until he was pounding into her against her kitchen counter only to be interrupted by her boyfriend. Thankfully there was no macho how dare you touch my girlshowdown, but it did leave Graham with a bad case of blue balls and nowhere to sleep.

“Wait! Why didn’t you come to the van with me? I don’t bite,” Emma protested as Graham was describing wandering the roads with streetlights until it was appropriately light enough to be breakfast time.

“You don’t think that’s the first place I went? I peeked my head in the fan and saw his shaggy ass and thought you might actually have taken the leap and met someone. No chance in hell I was going to spook you if you finally found a guy you didn’t want to murder on first sight.”

She yelped out a very offended hey, but deep down, he wasn’t wrong. He and David were just the only two men to ever prove to her they were interested in her as a human being and not a punching bag or human fleshlight. She was thankful for finding them and realizing that the whole not all men has some merit, but not enough to take any chances on a guy.

“Well now that you know your assessment couldn’t have been further from the truth, I bet you’re feeling pretty silly for missing out on sleep.”

“No, I stand by my decision. But, yeah, tonight I’m crashing in the van with you two. Unless, I mean, if you ever want privacy with him…”

“YES!” Ruby squealed. “You two would make the cutest babies. You know, someday. With little leather jackets and horrendous attitudes. It would be legit adorable.”

From the corner of her eye she could see David’s face turning fuchsia and she was reminded of the speech he’d apparently given Killian that morning (as if she needed protecting). Not even close.

“Hah, very funny there, Rubes. You think he’s so good looking, you can go for it.”

“Oh, no you will not!” David shouted. “No casual sex within the band.”

(Hey, at least he was yelling at someone who wasn’t her.)

“But you and Mary Margaret!” she protested.

“Nothing casual about that. Marry Killian, fine. I’ll throw the bridal shower. But do not fuck him for fun. We need him and he doesn’t need another mess.”

Before Emma had a chance to ask David to elaborate on that clear Tragic Backstory Hint, Mary Margaret and Killian plopped down at the table, set-up apparently finished.

“So… what do we do now?” Killian asked, the blunt end of his left arm fiddling with the thick ring on his right thumb.

Mary Margaret, David, and Graham collectively responded, “Eat!”

Ruby and Emma were more of the let’s get drunk frame of mind and instead replied, “Shots!”

So the crew of six ordered shots for 12 and their first official day as a team had begun.

By the time they were being announced for the stage, Emma was red-faced and stumbling, Mary Margaret was giggling about the word “banana” and Killian had already told sixteen different dirty jokes, all met with a deeper scowl from Emma each time.

-

That night Graham’s drumming was just a tad out of sync and David forgot that he wasn’t actually supposed to sing the girl parts of their one duet-style song, but none of that mattered. The crowd was wild, totally tuned in and screaming their hearts out right along with them. Halfway through their set, just before Emma relinquished lead vocals to Mary Margaret for Sappy Hour, she clutched the microphone in her hand, swaying as she returned it to the stand at the edge of the stage, yelling, “I love everyone in this bar!”

This whole ‘having friends’ thing just got better and better every single day.

Especially when puking in the dumpster at 3am. You find out who your friends are, right about then, and only Ruby was mockingly taking SnapChat videos. Killian got her water and Graham held her hair and the last thing she remembered before she passed out was telling the other strays she was just so glad they all somehow found each other.

[ch4nb4ng]

The Badboy: Pt. 1

Words: 2.1k

A/N: hey guys! Here is part one! Please let me know if you enjoy it and when you want me to post part 2, or if you want me to post it Incase this is trash fhdjsj

————————-

You had just walked into school for the day, avoiding anyone and everyone that you could. You dashed straight to your locker, getting your books out ready for first period.

“Changbin please, stop!” Chan cries. You close your locker door to see a devlish Changbin, pushing Chan’s head up against his locker. His head dangerously close to Chan’s.

“Or what, Channie, you are gonna hit me with your book? Please, you are such a loser, always studying, how you gonna get any pussy like that?” Changbin whispers in his ear. Chan screws his eyes shut, fear evidently running through him.

Without thinking twice, you ran through the wave of people, having front row access to view the fight.

“Changbin, stop!” you yell, causing everyone’s eyes to turn around and face you. Chan’s eyes open widely, while Changbin pauses, and removes his hand from his head to slowly turn around and face you. Your palms begin to sweat, not used to having so many eyes on you.

“Butt out of it, sweetheart.” Changbin smirks, before proceeding to turn around and continue pushing Chan’s head against the wall. However, before he has a chance to, you move closer to him, grab his wrist, and with all your might, attempt to force his arm back down to his side.

“I said stop. You are doing this for no reason.” You look up at him, adding your other hand to counteract his impending strength that he had over you.

Changbin began to laugh, easily overpowering you. He removed your hands easily, a chuckle escaping his lips.

“Listen sweetheart, I’ll do whatever I want. I own everything and everyone in this school. You think you, can stop me out of all people. This isn’t gonna end well for you.” He pauses, moving closer to you. You body temporarily freezes as cocks his head to the left side of you. You feel his hot breath tickle your skin, shivers running through you. Sure, he was extremely sexy, intimidating, but you had to stand your ground, because he could be a real dick sometimes.

“Try me again, and see what happens.” changbin whispers.

“What the hell is going on here?” A loud voice pushes through the crowd. “Shit” you murmur, knowing whose voice it is.

“Uh Principal Park,” you nervously stumble, moving at least 5 steps back from Changbin.

“Ugh” Changbin hisses rolling his eyes.

“I was telling Changbin to-”

“No, I don’t wanna hear this here, you two, my office, now.” JYP shakes his head, motiong a hand for the two of you to walk in front of him.

You throw you head back in disbelief. It was the first time you had ever needed to go to the principal's office. What made it worse, was who you had to go with. You always thought that Changbin was attractive, everyone thought that, but that was all. Recently though, from the literal first encounter you had ever had with him, he was all you could think about. For some reason, his absolute arrogance and being a complete asshole almost, turned you on? It was so sexy, but it wasn’t you had any feelings or anything like tHAT for him. Nothing but lust and the thoughts of the things he would do to you was all.

“I’m sorry,” Changbin nudges your upper arm, causing you to fall out of your inner conflicting thoughts about him. You roll your eyes in response.

“It’s fine, I’ll get over it, but like, why you gotta bully Chan so much? He just minds his own business and works really hard. I’m not the one you should be sorry to.” You hiss at him.

“You’re right, I’ll apologise to him, I guess.”

You look up at him, and for a second, a flicker of softness forms on his face again, just like that time he arrived late to class. Like a violinist playing a violin with his fingers, the strings in your stomach were being plucked, leaving you to almost melt at him.

Losing track of time, you quickly look away from him, a small blush beginning to appear on your face.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise how long I was staring at you for.” You giggle, rubbing the back of your neck to help cool yourself down.

“Tsk, it’s fine, I know, I’m fucking sexy, right?” He cocks his head towards you, placing a hand under his chin, smirking at you.

“And you just ruined the moment.”

You both finally sit down in the office. All of the things that principal Park says skips right over both of your heads, well most of it.

“At JYP high, we don’t condone this behaviour. So, with that said, both are you are to go home today, and not return to school tomorrow either. You need a break from here, and especially with you two, wanting to kill each other.”

You raise your eyebrows, leaning forward, almost, out of, your seat to look the principal right in the eyes.

“Are you serious? All I did was try and stop Mr. macho man over here from bullying Chan, again, because it’s not the first time. Instead of-”

“Quite frankly, y/n, I don’t care. What I say goes, got it?”

A stern tone erupts out of mr. Park, causing you to shrivel back into your seat,

“Now, get out.”

You both nod in response, exiting the room. You close the door behind you, before turning around and grabbing Changbin’s arm once again.

“I fucking hate you.”

“Please, I just gave you nearly two days away from this hell.” You laugh and roll your eyes again.

“I mean, you are right.”

“Let’s go do something.” Changbin asks, catching you completely off guard.

“What?” You ask back in extreme confusion.

“You know, we have the rest of the day off, I’m assuming you have no plans. Let’s, idk, go to the arcade or something.”

“N-”

“Too late,” Changbin cuts you off, grabbing your hand and dragging you through to school hallway until you are outside. A icy frost comes over you. You use your arms to cover your body from the cold weather, when all of a sudden, a thick leather jacket encompasses you. You look to see Changbin putting his jacket on you.

“Oh um, thank you, but you didn’t have to do that.” You smile politely.

“Please, I know I’m not the nicest person in the world, but I’m also not a dick 24/7.” He chuckles, a small smile breaking onto his face.

You walk around the school parking lot for a small period of time, until you reached his truck. He launched himself on the back, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his jean pocket. You scratched the back of your head nervously, feeling somewhat awkward just staring at him there. At the same time though, a sense of peace and calmness fell through you. You looked up at him in awe. He was completely in his element. It almost looked like something he did everyday.

“Y/n,” Changbin called you, once again snapping you out of your thoughts once again. He leans a hand out.

“Come on, come up here.” Changbin demands. You idiotically grin and shake your head, grabbing his hand. He pulls you up with great difficulty, resulting in you both falling. The awkward thing was how you fell literally straight on top of him. His back was pressed against the floor of the car, and you, of course, on your front. You could feel his muscular abdominal muscles pressed against you.

You both laugh, before suddenly realising how close your faces were to one another. The somewhat awkward atmosphere had completely changed. A sparkle flickered in his eyes the more the moment lingered on. Your body stiffens, quickly rolling yourself off of him. You avoid his eye contact, sitting in the corner. Changbin quickly follows you, reaching out a hand to you, a cigarette in it.

“Ew, no thanks.” You snarl at him, pushing his hand away from you.

“Jeez, alright then,” Changbin hisses, sucking in his cigarette in, shades of orange and brown are ignited at it’s tip, followed by a small greyish area covering him. You focus your gaze on him. It was almost like, a dark, but not bad, aura surrounded him. You were completely infatuated him. He looked to die for. The atmosphere relaxed once again, any awkwardness that was there a few moments ago had disappeared.

“On second thought, pass it over.” you smirk at him, before grabbing the letahl stick and taking a drag. A burning sensation in your chest arises, causing you to uncontrollably cough. A roar of laughter erupts from changbin at you dying. It was probably one of,if not, the funniest thing he had ever seen. He falls onto his back, a hand on his chest trying to regain his breath.

Eventually, he puts hand on your back, patting you gently.

“Oh my god, that was the funniest thing ever, are you okay?” He asks you, almost in a mocking tone. Red tints your cheeks, embarrassment beginning to fill you.

“I’m fine, changbin! Thank you so much for your concern.”

You mock back, lightly smacking him on the arm, before turning your gaze back to the sky.

You sit in silence in what seems like forever, but in reality, was only like 20 minutes. Changbin never removes his hand from your back, and gradually began to rub light circles with his thumb. He clears his throat,

“Um, there’s a party next week, at Hwang Hyunjin’s house.” Changbin quivers a little, a longinful look appears on his face towards you, anticipating your response.

“Okay, and?” you question him, not knowing what he was asking for. He giggles to himself,

“Are you gonna go?” He asks in confusion, thinking that his first sentence implied the question.

“That’s funny. You, think I, go to, house parties?” You laugh.

“Why not? Everyone fucking goes to house parties, Y/N.” His tone comes off harsh. You move, forcing his hand to fall of of your back, giving him a slight glare, but also a look of confusion. He takes in another puff, avoiding eye contact with you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask him, attitude laced through your tone, just like him.

“It means that you’re a fucking loser if you don’t go.” He mocks your tone. You stand up and glare at him. You were confused in his sudden change of behaviour.

“I’m a loser? Why do you care if I go so much? Worried that I’m not easy like all the other girls you fuck at these parties?”

Changbin’s head snaps up, like your words struck a sensitive chord in him.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Changbin now stands up and moves relatively close to you. He balls his fists up, anger beginning to stir within him.

“You heard me, Changbin.” You keep your tone serious, grabbing the smoke from his hand, taking another puff, blowing it straight in his face. He rips it away from you, throwing it on the ground and stomping down on it.

“You have fucking got me all wrong, y/n.” He moves closer to you, hands hovering over your hips. You go into an internal panic, never being close to a boy like this before. However, you don’t budge. It was like you were longing for his touch.

“Okay fine, why don’t you tell me how wrong I am.” You suggestively smirk at him.

He moves even closer to you, faces millimeters apart. He proceeds to lean in, lips so close to touching yours. He grabs the sides of your face with his rough, tatted up hands, breathing on you. Your insides tickle at his hot breath lingering on you. You wanted kiss him. Kiss him so bad, but you had to keep your ground. You didn’t want to be another one of those girls Changbin used then forgot about. Instead of kissing him, you grabbed his face, pressing your face up against his ear,

“I’m not that easy,,, sweetheart.” You whisper, feeling him uncomfortably shift underneath you.

You break all contact from him and jump off of his truck. Changbin looks at you, stunned. You had single-handedly became the first girl at your school to reject Seo Changbin. He was, in shock to say the least.

“Wait, y/n, where are you going?” Changbin asks you, mass confusion filling his tone. You smile at him, running a hand through your long locks of hair.

“I’ll see you around, Mr. Seo.” You smirk, walking out of his sight.