#jake also has a hot dog its just in his other hand

[jayjay-thejet-plane]

For @everfascinated ‘s prompt: “Having hot dogs together at the summer air show/barbeque” :D

Transcription below

J: Haha! You’ve got something on your face…

B: Huh?

J: I’ve got it baby, just stand still for a second.

B: btw you’re getting a sunburn

J: yeah, you are too

B: welp

[dootiexcupcake]

Body

pairing: Heeseung x fem!reader, Jay x fem!reader, Jake x fem!reader, Sunghoon x fem!reader [no names are stated so anyone in hyung line can be in this fic. Jus let ur mind go crazy lol]

tags: first meetings, strangers to lovers, S2L, meet cute ?, club setting, flirty!HYUNG line member, bold reader ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), suggestive (not really), reader blushes but it can’t be seen so, black/POC reader 💃🏾

WARNINGS: drug mention (only once and it has nothing to do with the story at all), drinking, alcohol mention, club setting (not sure if that’s a warning but just in case), slight suggestive

WC: 1k

A/N: I wrote this in 2022 for a friend but I just decided to post it cuz why not 🤷🏾‍♀️

You have no idea why you’re here in this crowded and stuffy club. Well, that’s not entirely true. Your friends begged you to go clubbing with them and basically dragged you here with their boyfriends.

It’s just the fact that you agreed to go along with all of this is what’s so baffling.

The blaring music is giving you a headache, there’s so many people in this cramped building it looks like it’s at its max capacity, and the unbearable smell of some drug cocktail feels like you’re getting a second hand high, the cute dude from across the room is eyeing you up and down.

Wait…

Ok so maybe you’d be lying to yourself if you said the reason why you haven’t left yet was for the drinks. Because it definitely wasn’t the drinks that were keeping you here. You and the mystery guy have been undressing each other with your eyes for a hot minute. He also may or may not be the one sending drinks over to your table too.

You feel your heart begin to jog when you see the pretty brunette get up from his seat and weave his way through the sea of dancing bodies.

Taking his time.

Walking all the way.

To you.

“Hey.” He said with all the confidence in the world for such a concise greeting. You smirked back at him and replied, “hey.”

“Thanks for the drinks by the way, you made this whole club experience a lot more tolerable.” You said as you took a quick sip from the fruity drink he sent to your table.

“Of course, figured you would need a pick me up on one of the busiest nights of the week after all.”

You nearly choked. ‘God, why would these clowns not only drag me to a club but a BUSY club?’ You definitely gotta learn to put your foot down with your friends. No matter how much they give you the puppy dog eyes!

The man noticed your surprised expression and chuckled.

‘He has a really cute laugh…’

“You’re cute. You wanna go out on the floor and dance for a bit?” He suggested, head gesturing over to the huge dance floor. Your stomach dropped at the crowd of people swarming the dance floor, and you also felt your cheeks heat up at the compliment he gave you. “I think I’ll fare better over here if you don’t mind.” You announced while sinking further into the cushy loveseat and sliding over a bit to offer him a place to sit. The man smiled and sat down next to you. The distance between the two of you was nonexistent because of the small size of the sofa, which caused the both of you to avoid eye contact and hide your blushing faces. Luckily for you, it wasn’t as apparent. But the way you bit your lip was telling enough for him to quickly catch on.

With a smirk the man started up the conversation again, “Hate to be so cheesy but, do you come here often? I’m positive I would have remembered a pretty face like yours.” You can’t help but snort at the corny line he just used on you. In most cases you would have got up and flipped him off while walking away. But something about him was just..different. Different in a very good way. “This is my first time at a club actually. I just came here cuz my dumb friends dragged me along. How ’bout you, you go clubbing often?” You ask, relaxing a bit as the two of you continued on with your casual conversation.

You learned that he’s not a frequent club go-er and that previous comment was in fact, an uber cheesy pickup line to break the ice. You learned that he’s a pretty dorky guy despite all the confidence and you guys actually attend the same local college.

“Wait, if that’s the case then why haven’t I seen you around campus then? I’m pretty sure I would have remembered you at least.” You say as you purse your lips in thought, “oh, is that why you were eyeing me all night?” You momentarily stiffened in your seat before delivering a playful punch to his arm. Your attack on him caused him to giggle “Hey hey hey, I was looking too! Don’t get all shy!” He said in between giggles. You rolled your eyes but you couldn’t stop the smile that was forming on your lips either.

After a moment of comfortable silence he spoke up again, “Are you seeing anybody?” The sudden question took you off guard a bit, “bold are we?” You say as you take another sip of your half full drink. “I mean..you were looking at me quite hard for someone who’s potentially in a relationship.” He says while wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “What, I can’t admire someone from afar now?” You play along with his teasing, “hmm, good point. So you like to look around and see what you like, yeah?” He says as his arm snakes around the back of your chair, leaning in closer while his dark eyes stare at you alluringly, “what do you do when you finally have it, hm?”

You shrink under his intense gaze, loving the way his voice drops an octave lower as he speaks to you. You move your head closer to his ear and whisper, “I like to play with it.” You can feel his lips against your neck and you have to suppress the moan creeping up your throat. “Really? How are you gonna play with me sweetheart? You gonna do it right here with an audience nearby? You want everyone to watch? That’s how you like to play, baby?” He murmurs against the shell of your ear, lips trailing back to their original place on your neck. You bite your lip and internally fight with yourself to stop from doing this out in the open. You put your hand on his lap and it catches his attention. He looks in your eyes cautiously, worrying that he may have crossed a line, and asks you if you’re ok. You nod your head and whisper in his ear one last time before getting up and walking away, “meet me in the supply closet”

enha m.list | main m.list

[a-is-for-abel]

"“I’m moving.” He froze, glancing up at his friend. The other boy’s eyes were gleaming with suppressed sobs, breath hitching and jaw clenched. “Mom got a job in another state and we’re moving in a month.”

Inspired by this prompt by @givethispromptatry

Sand and shells crunched under the belly of the kayak as it ran aground. With a wobble and a curse he tumbled into the water, paddle floating away from him and kayak shooting off in the opposite direction.

"Fuck."

He scrambled to collect both, tossing the paddle up onto the beach and grabbing the handle at the bow of the kayak to tow it onto shore.

"You're late."

He rolled his eyes and glanced over his shoulder to see Warren in all his cut-offs and sandals glory. "And you're early."

Warren crossed his arms. "I'm literally the most on time, dude."

"Whatever, just-- Help me grab the stuff."

He popped open the watertight chamber in front of the seat and reached into the belly of the kayak, all while Warren struggled to pull the backpack out from under the cage of bungee cords at the front.

"Just unhook them, dude," he said, his cellphone and two unopened cream sodas finally in hand.

"Don't tell me how to do it."

"It's not going to--"

"Shit!" Warren yelped, recoiling and clutching his hand.

"Told you."

Warren flicked him off, but turned to do what he said anyway.

"Come on, suns gonna start setting soon." He grabbed his backpack from Warren and stuffed the drinks and his phone inside.

"What? Afraid of some gators?"

"No," he said. "Rather a gator than my dad."

Warren grimaced. "He still got you on that curfew?"

"Yup."

He picked his way through the mangrove thicket that cut the beach off from the rest of the spoil island. The roots of the black mangroves jutted up like fingers through the sand and the stilts of the red mangroves tried their best to snag his feet as he ducked under the sprawling web of an orb weaver hidden in their midst. Thankfully, it cleared out past the initial wall of foliage, becoming more barren with only the occasional thicket.

He remembered when his dad had led them through here the first time and explained that the mangroves kept the spoil islands standing. That when hurricanes and storms threatened to wash them away, their roots would act like a little army, keeping off any barrage and harboring whatever took up shelter under them.

He frowned. His dad and him hadn't come out here since--

"Fuck, fuck, fu--" Warren sputtered behind him, high-pitched.

"Web?" he asked, glancing back to see Warren flinching away from a tree.

"Yeah, fuck--" Warren brushed his arms off frantically and patted at his hair. "Fucking spiders all over the fucking place, man. They call it Mosquito Lagoon, but it really should be spider god damn la-- Fuck!"

"Nice one, ‘spider god damn la-fuck’ really has a special sort of ring to it."

Warren shot him a glare and dusted off his shoulders and the front of his shirt with quick flicks. "You owe me for psychological damages..."

"Come on, we used to come out here all the time."

"When I was like ten! And with your dad!" Warren cowered away from another web that sprawled from a lone tree. "And I didn't have as much free real estate for a spider to like, you know-- Crawl all over me or whatever."

"Free real estate?"

"Yeah, you know the whole--" Warren gestured vaguely. "The meme."

"God, please stop," he groaned. "That shits like, what, twenty-seventeen? That's like ancient history, man."

"It's a classic."

"Sure," he muttered. "A classic."

"Whatever, man, you're just not cultured."

He scoffed. "That's definitely it."

The other end of the island unfolded into a drop-off, all coquina and shells packed tightly together and built up into a mound that cut off abruptly into nothing. It was the highest point of the island-- of most of the spoils out here honestly-- even though it's small cliff had been eaten away and eroded over time, shrinking and shifting as the island shrank with the waves.

Dropping his backpack, he sat and dangled his legs over the edge, shoes knocking back against the coquina with a scratchy rasp. Warren plopped down beside him, keeping his legs folded and away from the plunge. Not that it was much of a sheer cliff. Only about eight feet down at the most, but enough that it felt like a lot. Compared to the average of three feet below sea level for the rest of the mainland; eight feet felt pretty fucking huge.

The tide lapped at the base of the island, the water hissing and coiling, writhing and alive where it squirmed through the holes bored through the coquina face and back out with a soft crackle. Crabs, tiny and mottled, darted in and around the rocks and he could see finger mullet, their scales flashing as they turned and twisted with the waves.

"You tied up your kayak, right?" Warren asked.

"Naw, but it should be fine. I pulled it up pretty far."

"I'm not sharing if you get stuck out here."

He frowned, shooting Warren his best puppy dog eyes. "You'd leave me out here?"

"Yes."

He chuckled. "Fair."

Seagulls drifted in lazy circles far overhead, the occasional cry working its way down to them as the birds banked with the wind, following the gusts up to where they could catch a glimpse of a meal beneath the water. One wheeled down in a sudden arc, wings folded close to its side as it plummeted, beak first, into the water with a snap and then back out with a spray.

"Man, tough luck..." Warren said. "Hate whenever they miss. Makes me feel kinda bad."

"They're just gonna go do what the rest do and steal some fries at the jetty once they realize it's easier than doing this."

"Yeah, but it's like-- I don't know, man. Just wish he'd get a win."

"You don't even know him!"

"I feel like we have a connection." Warren pointed at where the seagull had gone back to patrolling the waters. "Me and seagull number one thousand and three, we're like this--" He crossed his fingers.

"Shut up," he snorted.

They watched the seagull try again and fail.

Warren started up a running commentary after the third attempt, cupping a hand over his mouth to imitate the slight grain of a sports announcer's microphone as he dramatized the whole thing. When the seagull finally managed to snag a fish Warren cheered, arms thrown up in a touchdown motion that he copied with a grin.

"Hell yeah, dude!" Warren high-fived him.

"Where's all that enthusiasm for when you're at my games?" he asked.

"Come on, dude, you know I always cheer the loudest. You're just too far out on the field to hear me."

"I'm sure that's what it is."

"Whatever, man-- What'd you bring anyway?" Warren grabbed his backpack and began rummaging through it. "Oh shit! Gummy bears, dude! And the good kind, hell yeah!"

"Yeah, grabbed them before I came here. That's why I was late, idiot."

Warren tore open the package. "Crimes forgiven, man. This is worth it."

"Give me that--" He pulled his backpack out of Warren's lap. "I also got some soda, but I guess all you care about is your precious little bears."

"Naw, naw-- Hand that over."

"Rude much?"

"What? You want me to kiss you on the lips for it first, bro?"

He laughed. "Now, that would be the polite thing to do."

Warren puckered his lips at him and then snatched the soda. "Fuck off."

"Not even a little kiss?" he teased.

"You dragged me out to spider-fuck-nowhere, while it's ass fucking hot out and where it smells like rotting fish taint-- Just to watch the fucking sunset, when we could have sat on my roof and done the exact same thing-- You expect a kiss for that?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. Bro code."

Warren snorted. "Hand me a bottle opener, dip shit."

He popped open his own bottle and passed it over to Warren, who struggled for a moment before finally getting it with a triumphant 'whoop'. The mixture of saccharine flavored soda and the slight rotting stench of algae, and whatever else the lagoon had to offer, wasn't exactly pleasant, but it wasn't terrible. It was familiar.

It was homely in it's off kilter sort of way.

"So, why'd you bring me out here anyways?" Warren asked.

He sighed and kicked his heel back against the coquina. "I’m moving.”

Warren sucked in sharply and he glanced over at him.

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the water below his feet. "Dad got a job in another state and we’re moving in a month.”

"Dude…"

"I didn't know how to tell you. I just--"

"Is that why you decided it'd be a good idea to sneak out and go to that dumb party with me?" Warren asked, frowning.

"I figured it would be one of the last chances I had to do something fun, you know. Here. Before I just-- Leave all this shit forever. I mean, we're moving to fucking Ohio, man. Where the fuck am I gonna find a party on an island out there?"

"Right…"

"And look, fuck my dad--"

"Jake--"

"No, fuck him-- He didn't even--" he huffed. "Things were looking up, man. Varsity lacrosse in sophomore year, that's huge, dude. And I wasn't just the fucking loser kid in the back of class anymore and he just--"

"Works rough here, dude..." Warren cut him off, sighing. "Space programs taking a shit. Whole island's taking a shit, really. Plenty of people left the first time NASA tanked, remember? It's just… it happens, man."

"So, you're just fine with it then?" he asked, brows furrowing. "We're never going-- I'm never going to see you again and you're just okay with that?"

"It's not forever!" Warren said, throwing out his hands. "There's planes, man! It's the twenty first fucking century. We got phones, dude. We'll stay in touch."

He grit his teeth and looked down.

"Jake, bro. C'mon-- Look at me."

He met Warren's eyes.

"It's gonna be okay, dude." Warren said, smile wide, and he could see the little falter at the edges, but he didn't call him on it. "Look--" Warren held up his bottle. "We'll cheers on it."

"Cheers on what?"

"To staying in touch, to meeting up in the future. To staying friends and all that, I don't know."

"To you finally getting a boyfriend?"

"Actually, you know what, I'm not going to miss you at all."

"Come on--" he grinned, nudging Warren with his shoulder. "You'll miss me."

"Yeah," Warren chuckled, looking down with a small smile. "I will..."

His fingers tightened around the glass bottle in his hand, bottom lip threatening to worry between his teeth. "Look, let's do your dumb cheers thing before it gets too sentimental or whatever."

Warren sighed, seeming to shake himself off before raising his soda bottle above his head and towards the slowly setting sun. "To us."

"To us?" He wrinkled his nose. "Isn't that kinda cheesy?"

"Just shut up and do it."

"Fine..." he grumbled with a grin, raising his bottle to clink against Warren's. "To us."

--

//photo credit// me and my phone c. 2020 //

[beautiful-and-terrible]

dazed ‘n’ confused (part 4)

A/N: just a quick chapter for you guys before i have to put this story on the back burner :( i have an annual essay coming up in school that i gotta focus on. anyway, hope you like the gangs drunk shennanigans

Ship: Rodrick Heffley / OFC

Warnings: underage drinking / drug use, inebriated driving (DONT DRIVE DRUNK KIDS THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY DONT BE STUPID :) )

---

“If we get caught, my mom’ll kill me,” Rodrick groaned.

“Let’s bounce,” Nicole said, untangling herself from him and grabbing his hand as they ran further into the back yard, looking for an escape route.

“I’ll boost you,” Rodrick said, gesturing to the fence. Nicole nodded, not thinking of a better plan, and wanting to get out of there as fast as possible. She stepped into the make-shift step Rodrick made with his palms, and as she swung a leg over the fence, he pushed her the rest of the way. It wasn’t the most graceful execution, and she ended up landing on her ass with a grunt of pain.

Rodrick also clumsily made his way over the fence - both of them being drunk and high didn’t help their coordination much. “Sorry, are you good?” Rodrick said, clutching his shin, and Nicole waved him off.

“It’s fine, let's just get to the van.”

“Oh, fuck, the van!” Rodrick hissed, “The pigs are totally gonna know it’s mine.” With a big fucking stupid band name written on the side, Nicole reckoned he was right - it was pretty easy to identify, even without the plates.

“I can drive, don’t worry,” Nicole said, already starting toward the white van, creeping between other cars on the street.

“Nikky, you’re as trashed as I am, no way am I letting you drive.”

“Trust me, hot Rod,” Nicole said, slipping her hand into his front pocket and pulling out his keys before he could even blink. As they approached his van, Chris and Ben appeared in the shadows next to them, whispering excitedly as they spotted them.

“As soon as we saw the lights we bolted,” Ben snickered, but Chris looked concerned.

“Yo, I hope Caitlin doesn’t get arrested. There was a lotta booze in there,” he muttered, and Ben smacked his arm.

“You whipped, dude?”

Chris scoffed, “No, I would just feel bad for anyone in that sitch.”

“I agree,” Nicole said, feeling guilty that she couldn’t help Caitlin get out of trouble.

“C’mon, let’s fucking go,” Rodrick said, and all at once the four of them dashed to the van. Nicole jumped in the driver's seat, shoving the key in the ignition with some fumbling, and peeling out from their parking spot across the street from Caitlin’s house with enough force to make even Rodrick proud.

“We’ll make a NASCAR driver out of you yet, Nikky,” Rodrick laughed, whooping as he leaned his head out the window like a dog, the night air tangling through his hair. Ben scrambled up to the front seat from the back of the van, fiddling with the radio before he settled on a station playing “Where Is My Mind” by Pixies. Nicole turned up the volume to its top capacity, concentrating on the road lines in front of her. The adrenaline of avoiding the cops had sobered her up a little, but she was still feeling paranoid from the weed and drowsy from the beer. She drove as slowly as she dared so as not to seem suspicious. 

“Thanks for being our getaway driver, Nicole,” Chris said, his words slurring a little more than she had noticed previously. She looked back and saw him chugging a beer in the back.

“Dude, don’t fucking drink while I’m driving! We’re already in deep shit as it is,” Nicole said, turning on to the main street of downtown Plainview. Just a few more turns and they’d be home.

“You’re deep in something, alright,” Ben cackled, and he and Chris high-fived.

“Yeah, six inches deep in your mom,” Nicole shot back, and Rodrick let out an “ooooooo”, pointing at Ben, “Gotcha, bitch.”

Eventually, by some miracle, they made it to Nicole’s street. She hit the curb as she pulled up in front of her and Rodrick’s house, causing all three boys to shriek in unison. Nicole dissolved into giggles, both in relief of finally being out of danger and in reaction to the boys high-pitched screams of indignation.

“She’s an antique, Nikky!” Rodrick said, jumping out of the van to stumble to the front and assess the damage.

“Oh, I’m fine, by the way,” Nicole snarked, and Rodrick suddenly looked at her intensely, giving her a slightly blurry-eyed up-and-down look. 

“Fine as hell,” he muttered, loud enough for her to hear, and she blushed, biting her lip to keep from smiling too widely.

“Rodrick, can we crash at your place,” Ben asked, Chris making puppy dog eyes at him.

“Me too - I don’t wanna wake my parents up. Our front door is creaky as shit,” Nicole said.

Rodrick sighed loudly, as if he were being asked to do something terribly inconvenient. 

“Yeah, fine. Y’all want mac and cheese?”

The four of them, all drunk and high as kites, looked at each other and nodded in perfect synchronicity. 

As quietly as they could for four fucked up teenagers, they snuck their way into Rodricks kitchen. He pulled out a four pack of Kraft Mac and Cheese microwave cups from the pantry, filling them all with way too much water and sticking all four of them, at the same time, in the microwave.

“Dude, can I eat this beef jerky?” Chris asked, rummaging through the pantry.

“They’re my dads,” Rodrick said, as if that offered an explanation. “If you wanna explain to him why they’re gone, knock yourself out.”

Chris slowly put the bag back, looking put out.

Nicole stood next to Ben, both of them leaning on the kitchen counter. Nicole looked over at him, and he looked back, giving her a little smile. He wasn’t bad looking, but where as Rodrick was endearing because he tried to seem cool and really wasn’t, Ben had an effortless coolness about him.

“Thanks for coming with us tonight, Ben,” Nicole said. The alcohol must be making her feel emotional. After all, they had only just met today.

“Aww, Nikky, of course! I never pass up an opportunity for debauchery,” Ben said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. He pronounced debauchery like “de-booch-ery”, but Nicole was too drunk to catch the mistake. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rodrick glaring at Ben. Dumbass, he has no reason to be jealous, Nicole thought to herself, and gave him a little reassuring wave by wiggling her fingers in his direction.

“Yo, be careful on this mac, its fucking hot,” Rodrick said, pulling the cups out of the microwave. They still had water in them, and the cheese powder wasn’t fully mixed in, but in the moment it was the most delicious thing Nicole had ever tasted.

“Should we watch a movie?” Ben suggested, and Chris bounced on his toes excitedly.

“Killer Clowns from Space!! Pleeeaaaase! You’ve been promising me for weeks now that we’d watch it.”

Ben sighed, Rodrick rolled his eyes, but Nicole had no opinion on the subject, so she made the executive decision to say, “I’m down.”

Ben and Rodrick both groaned, and Chris gave her a fist bump from across the kitchen island.

“Nikky has taste, sorry guys,” Chris said, looking very smug as he slurped his luke-warm mac and cheese.

They all somehow stumbled up to Rodrick’s room - Nicole belatedly realized she had been dreaming about being in his room for weeks, and now that she was here took the time to really appreciate what was in front of her.

A person’s room can tell you everything you need to know about them. For one, Rodrick was messy, but no more messy than any other average teenage boy. Clothes on the floor and the back of his desk chair, thrown haphazardly over a bean-bag in the corner of the room. There were christmas lights strung from the ceiling, both white and rainbow, that gave the room a cozy vibe that Nicole would’ve never expected from Rodrick.

His walls were mostly covered in band posters, and above his desk there was a cork board littered with tickets of concerts he had been to. Nicole almost seethed with jealousy at the sheer amount and quality of concerts he had been to - Leftover Crack, Pleasure Venom, Less than Jake, and one of Nicole’s personal favorites, Mannequin Pussy.

“You like Mannequin Pussy?” Nicole said, whipping her head around to look at Rodrick. 

“That's not the only kind of pussy he likes,” Ben hollered, causing Chris to smack him upside the head.

“There's a lady present, dumbass,” Chris said, and Ben raised his hands in surrender.

“I think you mean that’s the only kind of pussy he gets,” Nicole said, throwing a teasing wink toward Rodrick, who blushed bright red.

“Yeah, they’re good. Romantic is my favorite album,” Rodrick said, scratching the back of his neck self consciously. Ben and Chris started making kissing noises in his direction, and Rodrick threw a pillow at them.

As Chris and Ben fought over who would set up the projector, Nicole let her snooping instincts take over, looking at the other miscellaneous things Rodrick had around his room - empty liquor bottles filled with more lights, a surprising amount of books (mostly graphic novels), a lava lamp filled with miniature rubber ducks, and mushroom paraphernalia. Everywhere. His pillowcases, the tapestry above his bed, and the stickers on his water bottle all had holographic or brightly colored mushrooms on them. She was so absorbed in her investigation she didn’t even notice Rodrick next to her until he spoke.

“Committing it to memory? You might never be in here again,” Rodrick said with a small smirk. Nicole gave him a look out of the corner of her eye.

“I wouldn’t count on it, babe,” Nicole said boldly. She felt the warmth of Rodrick’s hand on her hip, and looked up at him. And his lips. She wanted to kiss him again so badly it was like a drug, her body telling her to get her next fix as quickly and as often as possible. Being in his space, the place he let himself be his most authentic self, was very intimate, even with Chris and Ben still arguing in the corner.

Rodrick looked away shyly, squeezing her hip once before turning back to the boys. Chris had evidently lost the rock-paper-scissors match to set up the movie on the projector, and was adjusting the screen on the far wall of Rodrick’s room, trying to find a website to pirate the movie from.

“If we’re gonna watch this shit let’s do it,” he said, settling himself in the beat up reclining chair he had, arms above his head. He should be illegal, Nicole thought to herself, making herself comfortable on the bed.

Which ended up being a mistake, because 20 minutes into the movie, Nicole was asleep. She felt a blanket being gently placed over her before she was dead to the world.

[letsperaltiago]

ok time to break my silence caused by the fact that i spent all day making this lol too many feels 

so.. palm springs thoughts !! and there are manyyyy so buckle up and feeel free to hit me up with either matching or contradicting thoughts or whateveer!! i would LOVE to nerd out about this movie with someone:’)

here comes thoughts and pictures!! 

we basically start off with a mr. samberg sex-scene okAYYYYY the mood is set. we love the view

nyles aka. mr. samberg is the most gorgeous man alive and it was a true pleasure to admire him for 90 minutes straight 

CURLS!!????! THEY ARE UNREAL. i shall dedicate an entire post to them

Cristin Milioti is perfect for her role. her acting? *chef’s kiss* I love that she’s not the stereotypical female rom-com lead.

Her chemistry with Andy? Gosh.. Can’t believe Nyles x Sarah is my new main movie-ship!! They play off of each other SO. WELL. Their characters are equally stone cold and bitter, but then again not really, and they both portray it so well!!

“You don’t ned a leg up.” *moans* “Hold my leg up!” i SCREAMED

“Don’t you kiss me.” “Don’t you tell me what to do.” hoW DARE THEY!

Ok ur basically on love already stop it

The fact that they were just gonna fuck on a blanket on top OF ROCKS?!

but then again in this movie’s already insane universe it’s prob pretty normal:)

The overall dark, existential humor?? This is what I live and breathe for on a daily basis. Basiaclly both main characters are a BIG MOOD

Nyles not giving a shit vs. Sarah severely freaking out in the beginning is an iconic dynamic

“I am the antichrist” and then the rock falling? For a hot sec I literally thought the movie was gonna take a turn with Nyles being some magical/scientific creature that’d created the timeloop or something idkkk ahhha

Nyles in the suit... ridiculous(ly hot)

The torture methods Roy uses on Nyles and the fact that he’s not mentally scarred?? How?? 

On that note I love that Nyles and Sarah keep their memories even if the day starts over. Would’ve been a completely different concept if they had to “meet each other for the first time” every day and it wouldn’t’ve allowed their relationship arc to evolve as it did 

Darla is the fucking shit 

Nyles in the baseball cap, amirite?

THE BARTENDER TALKING ABOUT HITTING A GUY WITH THE CAR SHE’S CURRENTLY GIVING NYLES A HANDJOB IN IS COMEDIC GOLD 

“You fucked Jerry Schlieffen?” “Well he fucked me.” Yes SIR. Andy Samberg’s characters are all bottoms and we’re here for it

Sarah’s tongue click and “nice try” when Nyles asks her about her sex life?? 

IDK WHY BUT SO GOD

Randy is hella annoying. That’s it. That’s the tweet.

THIS ENTIRE SCENE:

the fact that they both start waking up smiling because now at least they have each other 🥺😭🤯

uhm i love a good ship that’s like... best friends to lovers and the montage of them basically becoming besties killed me 

this outfit Y E S: 

sarah falling off the car and nyles laughing it off is relationship goals

the crashing plane I LOL’ED

okay so... big moment... the DANCING AND MATCHING OUTFITS? THEY ARE MY DREAM TEAM. Also how excited they are running away from the bar 🥺

IM POSITIVE THIS IS THE MOMENT NYLES KNOWS! LIKE HE DOESN’T ADMIT IT TO HIMSELF COMPLETELY BUT HE KNOWS 

the bomb in the cake and french pirate-skit? so fucking random but i lovee it because it’s so them

*DRUM ROLL* PERHAPS MY FAVORITE MOMENT IN THE ENTIRE MOVIE: 

STORYLINE WISE AND VISUALLY A++++

the deep talks by the fire were SO well written. they were actually deep and genuine, allowing the characters to grow and opening up to us as viewers but also remained fun and witty

sarah trying to get nyles to admit he cares for her and him joking it off??? the flirtinggg

really wish we’d gotten to know more about what nyles meant with “it drifts away: just like they all do.” because it really seemed to trigger something within him. Like WHO “They”???

the dinosaurs lmao no comment but at least they got a cute cuddly moment

from the very first millisecond inside the tent you can CLEARLY tell Sarah is just dying to do something about them!!!

 the disbelief on nyles’ face when sarah says “lets just get it over with” because she’d clearly stated he didn’t want to and even though he obviously did he’s respected it and not done anything further about it oh babey

we love some good making out:’))) 

NYLES HALTING TO TAKE IN THE MOMENT EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO SCREAM INTO THE VOID 

i will die for a post-sexy timez cuddle and how sarah is trying to staying awake to be besides him is just *explosion* 

this has to be *the moment* she realises 

and they’re both sooooo fucking happy when they wake up after damn love me like that pls

THE GROOM BOOO FUCK OFF CAN’T EVEN BE BOTHERED TO REMEMBER HIS NAME CHEATING SCUM 

THIS FACE:

Baby is trying so hard and is so cute and nervous about it. SARAH LISTEN TO HIM HE LOVES YOU.

HE FELT GOOD WAKING UP BECAUSE OF YOUUUU, GIRL. DO NOT CALL IT “FUN”, SARAH 

“Going to bed maybe just got a little better” 😭😭😭😭

The entire cop scene is just pure insanity, very Lonely Island and I’m here for it even though I just want Sarah to rEALLY LISTEN TO WHAT NYLES IS TRYING TO SAY 

“Pain is real” oh babey that means SO MANY THINGS 🥺💔

“I followed you into that cave because I liked you!” like jake would say: don’t love how we got here but we’re going where i want

“pretentious sad boy” me

not shocked that they’ve hooked up before because c h e m i s t r y but don’t like how it got out :)))

why is nyles’ one sleeve shirt rolled up? im triggered

drinking pure vodka? oh babey its gonna be okay 

WE LOVE A SMART BOI WHO RECOGNIZES HIS GIRL’S PERFUME 

Sarah’s parents singing:)) i would cry too, nyles

"I love her.” “I see... That’s interesting” lmao savage

I actually really love Roy’s character. It turns out to be very humble actually and he has some insightful and lowkey poetic that lines i love. Besides that he’s hilarious. 

SO the whole time i was wondering how they’d get out of the whole “same day forever”-thing, if they were to. and I LOVE LOVE LOVE that they had such a logical way out of it: science. Not anything cheesy like “a true love’s kiss” or “you learned your lesson”. Pure logic and Sarah’s hard work to get there. Huge fan of this. 

I will never get over how good Nyles looks waking up and Sarah is xtra pretty in that scene:’) 

Nyles just wants to stay in a loop forever because it means for sure that he gets to stay with Sarah forever and I’m lowkey into it but also like lowkey LISTEN TO HER AND GO WITH HER PLAN, NYLES

“I wanna stay with you” *sniffles*

“I love you. How about that?” PRETTY FUCKING GOOD 

I love Nyles’ character development. He started off so nonchalant and cold, closed off and by this point he’s the softest, smiliest in love fool I’ve ever seen and Andy does it so good. SAMBERG HEART EYES!!

“Nothing is real in here” YES SARAH UR LOVE IS

I’m taking Sarah’s asking Nyles to believe in her and leave with her as her first “I love you” because it’s very clear that she wants to leave with him rather than without. 

just- this entire scene i ugh <3 <3 <3 <3

BREAKING. UP. WITH. MISTY ! 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

glass of wine filled to the brim? sarah’s my type of gal

the speech was really beautiful and sweet without being too cheesy and kudos to cristin for really delivering it like a pro! especially her “abe, don’t fuck this up” like yes girl kill him, chop him to pieces with your eyes!!! also camila is such really pretty bride

nyles looks like a cockatoo here :

nyles taking the shot and smashing the glass into the ground got me 🤭😵😏🥵

“I’m your son” I SCREAM

GIVE THE MAN A WHITE HORSE DAMNIT

Gotta admit Sarah looks like a bomb (lol nu pun intended) ass super hero in her bridesmaid dress and C4-gettup 

The sentence ending up being total grammatical gibberish but Nyles trying so. damn. hard is the sweetest thing ever and should and will go down in rom-com history. It’s super romantic but also well-balanced by humor and I just.. so good. This is the kind of characters and relationships I love and wanna write myself 

“you’re my favorite person that i’ve ever met” 🥺🥺🥺

“i’d rather die with you than live in this world without you” WHY AM I SO SINGLE SOMEONE LOVEE ME LIKE THIS 

okay so idk but “what if we get sick of each other?” “we’re already sick of each other. it’s the best.” is so so so soft, the way nyles says it like it doesn’t matter and is honestly another key moment for me: they’ve experienced basically everything imaginable during their time in the box/loop. they’ve liked, disliked, loved, hated each other and still: he loves her. the fact that nyles knows no matter what happens it won’t stop that because it’s them?? ouch my heart. 

this chaotic mess of a pairing?MESSY BOMB BRIDESMAID AND CURLY-HAIR HAWAII SHIRT-BOI!! MY OTp

Them dissing Nyles’ mom on their way into potential death? that’s love, baby 

the fUCKING KISSSSSSS MANNNNNNNNNN!!!! SO ICONIC AND THE EXPLOSION IN THE BACKGROUND AND JUST WE DESERVE THIS THEY DESERVE THIS EVERYONE DESERVES THISSSS!!! 

NEVER OVEER THIS EVER FOREVER NEVER

Ok so I was SURE that when it faded to black that it was done and I grew super ficking frustrated because it would leave us with this “the ending is up to whatever you chose”-kinda thing kinda a la Celeste and Jesse where it just feels unresolved and I WASN’T OKAY WITH THAT. So I’m so happy we got to know that it worked and the bebes will live happuilly ever after with Nyles’ shaggy dog:’) 

Their hands on each other’s knee >>>>>

all in all 100000/10 

[bigskydreaming]

Little bit from a fic about the next generation of Titans, in a universe where DC’s weird vendetta against Titan offspring isn’t allowed to get in the way of Robert, Lian, Cerdian, Mar’i, Jake, Irey and Jai all growing up together. Also Sarko, the alternate timeline future son of Kyle Rayner and Soranik Natu because hey why not. 

And with special guest appearance by Mar’i and Jake’s alternate universe half-sibling, Thomas Grayson, son of Dick and Babs, and who takes up his universe’s Red Hood mantle after his Uncle Jason.

*****

“I mean, its not like I have a ton of options here.” Lian spread her arms wide to encompass the rest of the Teen Titans and make it all the more self-explanatory. “We kinda all grew up together, and I’m just saying, once you’ve seen a guy shove a crayon up his nose and then eat it, there’s a little less shine on that future prospective love interest.”

“Hey! That was one time, and I was three!”

“Oh Robbie, neither of those things are even a little bit true,” Lian said pityingly.

He scowled. “Oh, like you’re some great catch yourself. You’re the literal dictionary definition of a walking bi disaster. Remember that time you got ahold of one of your dad’s explosive arrows and brought it to daycare and almost blew us both up? What do you call that, huh?”

Lian narrowed her eyes at him and planted her hands on her hips, adopting a challenging tone that - as Mar’i knew from far too many previous experiences - could carry the name “Brace For Impact.”

“Precocious,” she said loftily. “I almost took out a potential world-ending threat all by myself, when I was five. Way to go, me.”

She pivoted to offer an explanation to their bemused extra-dimensional visitor. “See, there was this whole prophecy thing before Robbie was born, about how he was destined to be the god of douchebags and would grow up to take over the world while calling himself something suitably ridiculous like “Lord Chaos.” So periodically we like to check in with his ego, knock it down a few pegs here and there, make sure its still in manageable ranges. Kinda a team-building exercise.”

“Of course, at this point you’re far more likely to all be my actual villain origin story instead,” Robbie grumbled. Lian leveled a smirk at him.

“Oh, we have contingencies for that too.”

“Yeah, we’ll probably just have the twins run around you in circles at hyper-speed while making up shit about alternate timelines and stating it all as absolute fact,” Cerdian contributed from where he still sat cross-legged on the floor, engrossed in his video game. “It drives Rob up the wall. He just physically can’t with them.”

“Oh come on,” Robbie exploded. “Just because I refuse to take them at face value when they just start spouting off BS about alternate timelines where, wait what was it last week, oh yeah, where Jamie Lee Curtis was Buffy the Vampire Slayer....”

“How dare you!” Irey jumped to her feet. “That was 100% true. I watched every single episode and they were all flawless!”

“Six seasons and a moooooovie,” Jai sang out.

“What does that even mean?” Robbie yelled.

Jai picked cackling like a hyena over giving him an actual answer. 

“You’re so weird.”

“Hey! You know better than to give Jai shit for being weird,” Sarko piped up from across the room. “Its not his fault he has West DNA.”

Jai snapped his fingers and pointed at Kid Ion emphatically. “Y’know, its funny he should mention that. There was actually this one timeline once, where practically everything was the same as this one except our dad’s name was Wally East there instead of Wally West. And you and me were best buds there, Rob. We were like. Sympatico.”

Robbie took a deep breath and rubbed his face with his hands. “I hate them so much,” he said in a much calmer, almost subdued tone. Conversationally, even.

Which of course was when Irey jumped up onto the couch and shook her fist at her twin, who shook his right back at her, from his seat on the floor.

“They can’t keep getting away with this!” They yelled, in creepy twin-unison.

Mar’i shook her head and sighed. It was like you could actually see the wind-up mechanism hovering invisibly behind Robbie start back up all over again.

“What are you even quoting right now?! One hundred percent of your references are lost on every person who has a normal relationship with the space/time continuum, which is every single person other than you two!”

“Quick Jai, run! Before he gets us, and our little dog too!” Irey yelled, speeding out of the room, her brother hot on her heels.

“Oh no, not our little dog, Garfield!”

“Toto! The little dog’s name is Toto!”

“No, dude, that’s the hamster from the Lion, the Witch and the Laundry Basket. Which, I understand the confusion there, like you’d think there’d be a lion in that movie, not a hamster named Toto, but I guess it wasn’t meant to be taken literally. It was like, a metaphor.”

“Stoooooooooooop!”

Dramatic silence permeated the room in the wake of the trio’s equally dramatic exit. Lian pursed her lips and turned back to Thomas, contemplatively.

“Now I know what you must be thinking. Its not cool that we all gang up on Robbie like that. And that’s true! But there’s something else you have to keep in mind here.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

“Its also really fun for the rest of us.”

He laughed. “Hey, no judgment here. I mean, I’m Mar’i and Jake’s half-brother from another universe, remember? You know how this works. I’m probably evil anyway.”

Lian beamed. 

Mar’i gagged. 

[monchikyun]

XVII. ghost stories

Connor doesn't want to admit it to himself but he has is currently over the moon. Living alone in that dreadfully dull apartment whose purpose has been that of a prison cell, a place where he'd spend the rest of his days waiting for some kind of divine punishment to restore the world's balance by putting him through suffering most soul-wrenching has not been a very pleasant experience. But Sumo, that helpless creature he gets to call his friend and roommate, has done nothing wrong to waste his life like that, cooped up in a supersized terrarium. The angel of a dog deserves a proper home. And if Gavin doesn't mind the android tagging along, then who is he to deny the floofpuff his favourite company.  Maybe it’s a bit presumptuous to think that Sumo has any distinct preference towards him, but that’s something Connor allows himself to indulge in, the idea that he’s doing a good job taking care of that overgrown puppy, that no one else would love him the same way Connor does. Of course, this kind of love would be better defined as an emotional dependency, but the canine doesn’t have to know that. 

He's happy, no one can deny him that, but with it also comes to the violent inner conflict, for the joy that flows through him never stops feeling wrong, one way or another. As if every little bit of content that he steals for himself extends the sentence he made himself serve, that he has to make up for each and every time he smiles or feels his heart flutter in something else than fear.

Yes, he did agree to Gavin's proposition, but it doesn't mean his mind is automatically set on actually going through with it. 

Every time they're locked in a shared moment like that it's hard to deploy rationality. Hard but not impossible. And if he really was against the idea of sharing home with the one person he’s sure he loves, he wouldn't have answered so enthusiastically. It's just that there is a mess inside of him and he can't quite sort through all the excess guilt and sorrow. 

“Hey, Con, what’s going on inside that head of yours? I can basically hear your brain cogs grinding.” 

They've been lying side by side on the bed closer to the window, keeping a polite distance between their bodies. The snowing outside has ceased, which can’t be said for the weather beyond his eyelids. Connor hasn't wanted to face anything tonight, so he has submitted his vision to the darkness, listening to Gavin's slow rhythmical breathing, one of his favourite sounds in the world.  

Many times has he found himself wishing to share the events that lead him to his current devastated state, times upon times did he want to transfer his memories to some innocent bystander just so he doesn’t have to suffer alone. But never to anyone close to him. It used to be a wound too ugly to be shown, and he feared that once it’s revealed, it would make him revolting in the eyes of the recipient. If it's just him who has to bear the hideous burden then he can justify it as a consequence for his shortcomings, that was something agreed upon in his mind. But when the weakness is stronger than his resolve to let it stew inside of him for all eternity, he can't do anything else but to listen to its cries for help. Because when he closes his eyes and concentrates, the voice screaming for someone to come and save him is no one else's but his own. 

And Gavin just happens to be the first one to get near enough to hear. 

"I'll tell you, but only if you really wish to know what happened on that day. It won't be an easy story to tell, and even less so to listen to." 

"I'd bet you anything that I've heard worse. Witnessed, even. Maybe."

Connor turns to face him, just to give him an expression that conveys how unconvinced he is about that. 

"Okay, sure. Just. This is very… hard for me, so…" 

"Hey it's fine, we don't have to do this if you're-" 

"No, I need to get it out. It's been weighing me down for almost a year, and I don't know how much longer would I be able to last like this.," he squeezes his eyes shut again and dares to grace Gavin with a minuscule smile. 

Gavin extends his hand far enough to almost touch him, letting it linger in the vast space between them. It feels like they doing something like this for the first time, like they’ve regressed back to how it was before this December. He can’t stand it, so he seizes the hesitating hand and clutches it like it’s the only thing keeping him from slipping into the endless dark. 

"Let's be fair here, no one deserves to be my outlet more than you." 

He's the main reason Connor's still here, after all. 

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

What a terrible fucking day has it been already, and it's only ten in the morning. Hank has woken up with a hangover tracing his every step, directly followed by his ever so caring partner. They have been stuck working on a seemingly never-ending case, and the lieutenant isn't known for his patience. Every day he grows wearier and wearier of not being able to find their guy despite it feeling like they're oh so impossibly close to apprehending him. Like he's hiding just around the corner, laughing his ass off at their incompetence. It bogs down not only him, but Connor has been invested in this more than everyone else. The poor android probably blames himself for the fact that the perp is still walking freely among all of his potential victims. 

So when they finally get the call of his whereabouts, when this nightmare of an investigation is about to come to an end, he is so wired-up he cannot see anything besides that what matters to him right now, which is nothing else but the hooded figure fleeting away across the busy street like exhaustion doesn't even exist to him. Unfortunately, Hank is an old man and his muscles are not what they once used to be, so he has no choice but to leave this chase to the one of them who doesn't need any organic tissue to run at the speed of a motorcycle. When the lieutenant does eventually catch up to them, he releases a sigh of relief that gets lost in all the breathless heaving as he watches the monster of a man lying on the floor in the pool of his own blood. He is not a callous person, not usually that is, but right now he wishes that the person on the ground wasn’t breathing anymore. Maybe he'll regret thinking like that later, but at the moment it feels more than justified, given what inhumane atrocities the man has committed. 

He's about to praise Connor for his good work when an arm sneaks around his shoulder, and he senses something sharp against the skin on his neck. 

"Tell me Jake’s not dead or I''ll kill this geezer like the pig he is." A gravelly voice grazes his ear and he wants to throw up from the undesirable proximity. 

"You won't." 

Leave it to his android partner to always have the upper hand in a crisis. He’s is sure that the gun Connor’s holding in his hopefully steady hand won't miss his target and that he'll be released from this death grip in a matter of seconds. It's not the first time he's found himself in a perilous situation like this, but that doesn't mean he's isn't sweating like he's about to get murdered in cold blood. Because he isn't. He can’t be-

A loud bang reverberates through his head down to his spine, ending at his feet just as devastatingly hot lava takes his mind under. It's the worst pain he's ever been in, yet it feels so… liberating.  He can just make out a desperate scream of his name in the voice he's got used to hearing these past months before all his thoughts slowly disappear into the all-encompassing darkness that is carrying him somewhere distant, somewhere painless. Here, in the great void of salvation, he's nothing but an idea.  

Happy because he’s arrived in the place he's been trying to get to all this time, for a hope that he can meet the most important person in the entire world, the missing piece of his soul. Sad because he’s leaving the other one behind. 

He doesn't know if the flickering light that is gradually moving closer is the thing he's been longing for, but he's more than willing to find out. 

Because nothing burdens him anymore. He's finally free. Home at least. Just like he should be. 

@a-convin-new-year should i continue tagging this blog or it too late? 

[supersonic-darling]

Seasonal Dates - Headcannons

This was an idea that was sent to @satans-helper but I nabbed it before she could change her mind (mwahaha) Hope you like it x

Josh - Spring

Josh picks you up just before lunch with his camera for you to both walk around the park looking at all the spring flowers. It’s a little chilly out so you’ve both got a jacket on, josh has that gilet on and as you’re walking down the street towards the park Josh links his fingers with yours and starts to swing your hands

When you get to the park Josh immediately has his camera out, taking stills of flowers and wildlife and people going about their business. He also points the camera at you when you’re not looking, especially when the cool spring wind blows and you close your eyes to feel it wash over you

Josh talks all they way round the pond about what he’s thinking of doing for his new film project; Alfred Hitchcock-esque with a mystery/ thriller theme. As he’s debating out loud whether or not to film in black and white or whether that would be to much of a copy you spot an ice-cream van

You drag him over to the van and buy two ice creams, as you pass one to him he’s still looking off into the distance muttering to himself, but when he notices you waving a cone in front of his face he ones back in and flashes you one of his lightening grins

You walk around the winding paths and not so paths with your ice-creams in one hand and the others clasped together, Josh occasionally making you hold his as he needs to take a photo

Going to a little cafe on the corner of the park and getting lunch. You sit outside so you can pet the dogs at the other tables while you wait. Even though its only a little park lunch date Josh insists on feeding you a bit of his pasta salad and toasting to a wonderful day with your soft drinks

Josh insists on walking you back to your door, even though its only late afternoon. You talk and laugh all the way home and when you get to your door Josh goes to give you a little kiss, only for you to meet him half way and spend the next minute or so making out a little by your front door.

He calls you about an hour later and you spend the rest of the evening talking or video chatting whilst you make your separate dinners and Josh invites you over tomorrow night.

Sam - Summer

Sam suggests a beach date one day as you’ve both exhausted all the local attractions for miles around. He calls you one morning and says he’ll pick you up at 2 so you can be there when the quiet bit of the beach isn’t as crowded.

When he arrives to pick you up he seems to have a bulging rucksack full of god knows what. You insist on bringing something as well so you make snacks for the both of you. You walk hand in hand to the beach with your full bags (like little kids going to school!)

When you get there Sam lays out some towels whilst you unpack some things and strip off. Sam does a double take when he looks up and sees you. Immediately he grabs you and bolts for the sea, him still fully clothed (or as clothed as Sam gets) and tosses you both in.

You hear that stoner laugh before you he his huge smiley face as you come up for air, and you splash him in revenge, laughing at his total shock. You spend ages messing about in the wash, flicking water at each other and bits of seaweed.

When you’re tired and a little sunburned you head back to your things. Sam sets up a big umbrella and you settle underneath, snacking on what you brought and teasing each other for how much you both creamed in the waves.

Eventually you settle into a comfortable silence, Sam leaning back on his rucksack as he scrolled through his phone and took photos from where he laid. You rested you head against his thigh, legs out into the sun but top half safely in the shade as you read your book.

Over the next few hours you don’t realise the tide coming in until its right next to you. You both quickly gather your things, Sam running into the sea when your water bottle starts to float out. And you guys leg it back up the beach to the safety of dry sand.

You giggle all the way home, hand in hand and still barefoot and sandy as you walk back up the hill to your place. When you get back Sam comes in with you and you both just dump your stuff and cram into the shower together to wash off all the grit. Sam laughs as he looks down at you covering your face from splashback and thinks to himself it’d definitely be easier if you lived together.

Jake- Autumn

Jake has planned out your entire date. You’ve been on a few but it’s still early days and he really likes you so he wants to make it special. He’s spent the entire afternoon setting up his back yard. He got Josh to help him string the fairy lights and set up the little decorations.

Josh tried to take over as ‘creative design’ which caused a fight to break out when he tried to move everything Jake had already meticulously placed. ‘It’s my date Josh Don’t be a dick!’ He leaves to shower and get ready and when he comes back Josh has put a bunch of hastily gathered flowers on the table outside as a peace offering but is still sulking in the living room because Jake shouted at him

When you arrive the sun is just setting and of course Jake looks like an actual Disney prince and is literally glowing in the evening lights. He greets you with a little kiss to your cheek and pulls out your seat for you to sit.

He’s set the table under a canopy orangey autumn trees draped in golden fairy lights and when he offers you wine you almost don’t reply because you’re still a little lost in his deep brown eyes. As he’s pouring the wine he calls you beautiful and you’re lucky it’s getting dark out because your face feels completely flushed

You sit and talk for a while and slowly your chairs move closer together. Jake almost forgets he made food because there’s been no awkward silence between you two and honestly his heart is skipping a bit.

He runs back in to bring what he made out for you guys to nibble on and when you suggest he show you how to make it one day because it tastes so good his smile spreads right across his face. Of course he wants to cook with you, and he’s so proud you like his food, when he takes a deep breath and coolly suggests a next date you link your fingers together on the table as you say yes

When the night finally draws to a close you’ve both arranged your chairs to be dead against each other, pressed together as Jakes arm is around your shoulder and his other hand is in your lap holding your hand. The hand around you lightly trails through your hair as Jake’s gravelly voice suggests you’d better stay because you’ve both had a drink.

You turn in his arms and his face is inches from yours, he leans in gently, your hand trailing up his chest as you tilt your head into the kiss. By the time you separate you feel dizzy and not because of the alcohol. Jake walks you into the house and suggests stoking up the fire before he grabs you some of his clothes to get comfortable in.

Danny - Winter

Danny the human radiator!

When he picks you up he see’s that you don’t have any gloves so he gives you his, but not before cupping your hands in his and blowing on them to warm them up. You still hold his hand for most of the date because he insists you need the extra warmth and you glance bashfully at each other.

You’d go somewhere you could walk around like the winter market, chatting away as you skim all the stalls out selling Christmassy things. You’d get distracted by cute things on the stalls and point them out to Danny suggesting them as presents for his mum and sister. He loves that you think of them too and it makes him extra heart eyes as you walk around more.

Danny buys you hot chocolate and you both find a place to sit and watch all the twinkly lights against the dark blue sky as you sip on your hot drinks and talk quietly about nothing in particular. Danny moves closer to you with an arm around the back of the bench and you definitely snuggle in under his arm. Man he really is a space heater, you can feel the heat radiating off him, even with two coats between you.

You and Danny go for a quiet stroll around a quiet corner of the market where you can hear each other properly. There’s a stream nearby and that’s the only sound you hear other than his voice. The warm glow of the fairy lights above you made Danny’s eyes seem an endless pool of deep chocolate brown you just wanted to drown in.

The wind has picked up as the evening grew longer and a particularly harsh breeze makes you step into Danny’s open arms, his jacket open for you to walk into as you wrap your arms around him to warm up. You look up at him again and he’s already looking down at you.

Leaning in you both meet in a soft sweet kiss, his head tilting and his arms tightening around you. When you break free he’s doing that lip bite (you know the one!) and you’re blushing like made because it’s like his eyes are staring into your soul.

You walk around the market a little bit more but Danny has to get you home like a gentleman and he dropped you off at your place with a little peck to your cheek, you pulling him back to kiss him on the mouth, and a little lingering as your hands part.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

okay but the girlfriend thing definitely happens right ? I am weirdly invested in this

CW: A couple of vague references to past mistreatment/abuse, pet whump setting. Tagging @burtlederp and @finder-of-rings

“Do you know that guy?”

Jake jumps a little at the soft, high-pitched voice just at his left shoulder. He’s been leaning back against a tree in the shade, watching Chris absolutely demolish this ring of exercise equipment they set up by the pond on campus. 

He does better sitting through Jake’s classes if he gets to run himself ragged in-between, and Jake has a good two hours between Ethics and Political Philosophy (where he’s keeping his head the fuck down, these days, quiet and careful, sneaking Chris in the back and hoping he isn’t asked questions too often) and Health Disparities in Marginalized Populations (where the professor knows exactly what Jake does and he feels more comfortable bringing Chris at all).

He’s figuring Chris out, day by day, watching him come out of his conditioned quiet shell from the early days and blossom into a vibrant, laughing teenager who never shuts the fuck up unless he’s moving.

It’s pretty fucking great.

Jake snorts at the girl’s words. “Yeah, I know him. I’m out here watching him, right?”

“Hey. Sorry, I just-… how does he know how to do that?”

Jake turns to glance over, prepared to give some variation on none of your fucking business, before he looks right into the eyes of a genuinely gorgeous girl his age. She’s got deeply warm brown skin and the most beautiful brown eyes he’s ever seen, thick black hair held in a low ponytail against her neck. Whatever angry retort he’d had planned dies on his tongue.

The girl has a bright red leash in one hand, with a tiny fluffy white thing that vaguely resembles a dog at the end of it. Her other hand, with loose bangle bracelets that clink as she moves, is pointing at Chris.

In the background, Chris swings by his legs on the taller bar, rolls in the air, and catches himself on the shorter one, swings a perfect circle around it and lets go, landing - as always - right on his feet with his arms in the air.

“That’s my cousin,” Jake lies easily. It’s less work every time he says it, and Chris has latched onto the lie with white knuckles, loves repeating it and telling the other rescues at dinner about playacting as Jake’s family. “He’s staying with me for a while. He’s pretty good, right?”

“He’s great. My little sister did gymnastics for years, she’d be jealous to see him out here making it look so easy.” The girl laughs, and the two of them watch Chris swing himself back up onto the shorter bar, hook his knees, and hang upside down, swinging back and forth, laughing to himself - but checking, always checking, to see if Jake is looking.

Which he always is.

Chris’s shirt rides up at this angle, showing a flash of pale white stomach, his navel, skin nearly paper-white in the sun. 

“Is he from around here?” The girl asks, and it’s a light question, but it’s so loaded, because Jake has the lie ready to go but the real answer is underneath it, right on the top of his tongue. I have no fucking clue where he’s from. Neither does he.

“Nah, he’s from Michigan.”

“Bet he likes the warmer weather, huh? That’s really funny. He looks a lot like this kid my sister used to take gymnastics with, way back when.”

Jake stiffens, slightly. The girl doesn’t seem to notice. “He does?”

Chris gets momentum, swinging back and forth until he looks like a demented clock pendulum, then he lets go, is up in the air, back down again landing perfectly on his feet. He stumbles forwards just a little, but shrugs it off and glances over at Jake. He grins, brightly, and Jake smiles back.

Chris’s eyes go to the girl, and his smile falters, just slightly, head cocking to the side. It’s not quite the practiced, awful little flirty head-tilt he pulls when he’s testing, at least. This is real curiosity, and more than a little uncertain worry.

“Yeah. She used to complain about him constantly. I mean, I never went to her practices but she has pictures and stuff. And I went to meets.” The girl laughs, and even her laugh is gorgeous, and Jake smiles a little at the sound even as his heart starts pounding. 

He could take this two ways - he can brush it off, ignore it, take it into his mind and hold the information there, or… or he can ask her outright. 

But if he asks her, eventually he’ll have to admit this isn’t Christopher Garner from Michigan, it’s a runaway human pet with a barcode on his left wrist. And she seems nice, but they all seem nice, right up until they turn someone in for their own good, it’s not like they can live on their own, right?

Not if no one will fucking teach them.

He takes the safe route, watching Chris head their way, folding into himself in Jake’s big T-shirt layered over the long-sleeved shirt with the thumb-holes to help him hide his barcode. He comes to a stop in front of them, bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking at Jake with all his worry laid bare. “Jake? Is this, is, do you know her?”

Is she safe? It’s the question Chris doesn’t ask, but Jake hears anyway.

“Just met her,” Jake replies easily. I don’t know yet.

“Sure did,” The girl says brightly, clearly not picking up on the tension between the two young men. She turns to Jake and holds out her hand, bangles clinking. Chris’s eyes drop to watch the bracelets flash in the sun as the two shake hands. “I’m Adra Laghari, but my friends just call me Addie, mostly. I’m a senior, Social Work. I have a whole lot of amazing career plans, clearly. You?”

“Jake Stanton, junior, Public Health. I am also on the ‘make no money working for a nonprofit’ track.” 

“Junior, huh?”

At her raised eyebrows, he snorts. “Non-traditional student. I’m a couple years older than I should be. Trust me, I know.”

“Fair enough. How about you?” She turns those sparkling dark eyes on Chris. He looks at Jake, then back at her, and slowly reaches out to take her hand and shake it. “Ooooh, your fingers are super cold. What’s your name?”

“Christopher Garner,” Chris says, very carefully. “I’m, um, I’m from-… I’m Jake’ scousin and I’m from, from, from, from…” He frowns, hesitates, face coloring with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I, I’m not always good with words, I-”

Jake blinks. Chris apologizing for how he speaks isn’t really new, but him sounding so… small about it is.

He hasn’t sounded like this since he first came to the shelter, and he didn’t say a word for a week that didn’t start with I’m sorry.

“Hey, no worries. I get you just fine, Christopher Garner.” Addie smiles, gives his hand one more squeeze, and drops it.

“Call me, um, I like to be-… the name I pick-… I like to be called, called, called Chris please? Can I be just Chris? Please?”

“Sure, Chris. Not a problem.” Addie’s little dog ran at Chris, tail wagging, and Jake watched him flinch back, stumbling back a few steps, before his eyes dropped - and he dropped down into a crouch, feet flat on the ground and his knees bent.

Jake was pretty fucking sure he couldn’t do that, either. 

Chris held out one hand, nervously, looking up to Addie for approval. When she smiled down at him and nodded, he reached out further to run fingers through the dog’s white fur. “Soft,” He murmurs, and for one second, Chris’s constantly-moving body is still.

“That’s Arjun,” Addie says. She looks at Jake sidelong, with an expression he can’t quite read. Somehow, though, it still turns his stomach into jelly. “When’s your next class, Jake in Public Health?”

Jake forgets, for a second, how words work.

“It’s at, at, at 4 pm,” Chris says, gathering Arjun into his arms and sitting back on the grass. The little dog wriggles its way to having paws on his shoulders, licks his face, and Chris laughs. His hair is in his eyes, and he’s got a bright smile on his face, and he’s fucking beautiful like this.

How could anyone have wanted him scared when they could have seen him smiling? Jake wonders, not for the first time. This isn’t even the first rescue he’s wondered that about.

“That’s a whole hour and fifteen minutes from now,” Addie says, with a sly sort of smile. “And it’s hot out today. Would you buys like some ice cream? Arjun and I are buying.”

Jake almost says no.

Then, Chris looks up with wide, excited eyes, and grins. “I like ice cream.”

Jake closes his eyes, briefly. For once, it’s not because he’s irritated by something. “Yeah… okay. I like ice cream, too.”

“Badass. Let’s get this show on the road, then, boys. Would you like to carry Arjun, Chris? He’s a good boy, he’ll be good.” She doesn’t wait - she just turns and starts walking.

Jake doesn’t wince. He doesn’t. He shows absolutely no sign that the words mean anything else at all. Neither does Chris, except that he whispers I’m good, too, before he takes off after her.

Jake is left to fall in behind them, wondering what the fuck just happened here. Still, he can’t quite stop smiling.

[nauseateddrive]

4 POEMS by Jake Sheff

Elegy for Dog I: A Failed Acrostic

January was tired when it became king. Apples here love being red in the spring, Casting shadows against the stone architraves our Kapellmeister will never live down. You Stole Apollo’s cows, and let them graze to show me Heaven’s template. Where do failed heroes go? Eucalyptus cupolas and polar icecaps Frame the downtrodden gods. But you weren’t Freakishly wrong, as I so often am, on your

Joyride through nearly twice eight years, Á la someone far from beauty’s stepmom. Copper coin or grimacing sun? I’ve got 20,000 Kor of crushed grief on this threshing floor. Shark-sparks of sadness flood the impetiginous air… How, and why, do clouds cobblestone Entire days, and lakes, when you’re not here? Fixing every broken thing, poets go where Ferns and geraniums baptize the morning.

“Jur-any-oms,” is how you’d spell it; After all, a dog’s a dog, and wisdom knows futility. Cassations make a rusty brew, to drink the truth of truths, and Kill whatever ceases wanting to be new. Stewardship, the color of gravity’s silence, naturally Houses every “glur” (a glittery blur); go chase what plays Eternal games. I hear the swans by Rooster Rock. Your handsome Face, its happy handsomeness, in memory’s eye, goes in and out of Focus; in love’s better eye: your goodness neath its everblooming ficus.

Gravity and Grace on SW Murray Scholls Drive

“Impatience has ruined many excellent men who, rejecting the slow, sure way, court destruction by rising too quickly.” Tacitus, The Annals of Imperial Rome

The traffic lights control the people’s actions, but Not their feelings, as the limits of philosophy Collide head on with the nose of a Dalmatian.

I tell you, the day is stress-testing itself, and these Sidewalks wish that it’d just gone straight. Geese Take this sky-hairing wind for granted, as they

Land on the lake like memorable speech on The sensitive soul. Time is never sharp, but it’s Cutting something in the credit union. Maybe

It’s dancing a back Corte for the woman in line Thinking about the taste of limes from Temecula As she waits for the teller. Air Alaska and that

Haunted pie in the sky are not the only reasons For all the volatility in the air today. Rushing And perfectionism both produce a loss; behind

The Safeway Pharmacy, you’ll see the small Smells of both, sloshing around to the ticking- Sound of the ocean’s tides. I must admit, I am

Frozen in place by the sight of steam from Joe’s Burgers; it is poetry’s pale tongue, rising in And arousing the air. This neighborhood’s street-

Lights are more serious than kokeshi dolls. Lights From its windows outshine poison dart frogs. Maybe to forget about life for awhile, the lamps

Are focused on The Population Bomb? ‘Easy Tiger,’ all these incidents whisper. Each day’s A sign twirler’s dais; each corner a promise

Of something more in a different direction: it isn’t A marriageable daughter or impoverishment, But inguinal ingenuity plays a part, and that isn’t

Bad at all. What oaths and paths went here Before Walmart? What voices were voided by The liquor store? What are vague’s values

When the library shares a parking lot with a 24- Hour gym and a cargo cult? Gas stations satirize                                                                           The Queen of Hearts; I tell you, it makes every

Question seem incidental. Treaty-breakers in Pajamas swing on the swing sets. Was August That full of angst? It feels like autumn went too

Far on accident. Desertification, in a sugar tong Splint, takes a shot of ouzo and talks shit About the death of Brutus, but my Bible-thumping

Memory – on a ski hill in Duluth – is also too busy Watching some ducks on the lake to notice; and Desertification makes a face at me like a Swedish

Film. Poets make for poorly picked men to Familiarity’s paymaster-general. The Calvinistic Rain is an ill-starred attempt to make mayonnaise-

Fries just for me, but I must admit, it all seems – You know – cybernetic. And step-motherly as all Get out, if you ask the trees. They prefer “You

Can’t Hurry Love,” by The Supremes, to any Changes that take effect in one to two pay periods. Pretext ricochets; a perfect reverse promenade.

At Summer Lake, When the Vegetables are Sleeping

Cruelty drinks all the wine, and never gets drunk On these shores. When Summer Lake speaks, In every word, an introduction to the world. I am

Easily duped. The greatest duper duplicates my pride, Which always lingers, in the hallways of my heart And beneath the surface of Summer Lake. The sky is

Supplicating, it’s literally shaking. An hour passes Faster here, the hour always held too dearly dear In paranoid and ivied walls. The ducks can do

An unwise thing correctly, and it sounds more like Dusty than Buffalo Springfield to the enokitake Sold in Springfield, Illinois, which is the opposite

Effect it has on the wild mushrooms on these shores. On cables capable of love, the geese convince The weather to taste like kvass today. Basically,

Another Cuban Missile Crisis drowned itself just Now. The clouds might ask themselves, ‘Is lowliness Allowed here?’ To which the crows might ask,

‘Does omertà sound like lightning?’ The answer’s Oubliette is ten times worse than impotence. Summer Lake isn’t smart, but it stays quiet, like

Someone too smart to say all they know. ‘Whoa, Sweet potato,’ the capital gains tax mutters To itself, knowing that what matters doesn’t mean

A thing. Some say the lake bottom’s sands receive Commands from Hearst Castle, others say Its hands are King City’s hands, and still others

Maintain more sins have been than grains of sand Times secondary gains, and that explains The beauty and industry that none can see but

All can feel on these shores. (Some possibilities Play possum, or get opsonized by hate; this one snores Like Rip Van Winkle.) This orb-weaver spider is

The Milton Friedman of Summer Lake, the wind On her web is Grenache from The Rocks District Of Milton-Freewater AVA for the eyes. The day is

Stereotypical, although it feels like three days In one…But for the lake’s good counterfactual Questions, I would forget that some die young,

But most die wrong. I’ve tried to pick up Summer Lake’s reflections in three lines or less, but The hardest truth is your own impotence. Oh,

It’s hard to hand your power over to a thing No one can see. Hopped up on distinctions – not The obvious distinctions – Summer Lake is pretty;

Cold, but pretty! In the distance, with so many Intercessory prayers, hot air balloons are rising; Shaped like teardrops, upside down and rising.

This lake re-something-or-anothered me. Are first Impressions wrong sometimes? I am a season’s Golden calf, according to the sunlight, doing

A prospector’s jig on the surface of Summer Lake. If not for the Weimar Republic’s wooden- Headedness, I’d set down my heart-song and

Listen to reason on these shores. I never trust An activist guitar, if the weather is socially clumsy. The future is reflected on the lake: it always

Laughs at us – between its math and gratitude Lessons – and never thinks of (or gives thanks to) Us enough. The presence in the lake juniors

My ears. The day is not too baffling, nor is it Jane Eyre. Space-themed and spiritual, some autumn Leaves are swimming in the rain. The ducks arrest

My attention in the mardy weather, even though they Must know my attention is dying. The barbed wire Around my stated goal is an outcome out of

Their control. Picnickers picnic with acorns and apricots, On blankets covering Holy Schnikey’s death mask. My unsandaled thoughts thrive and increase on these,

And no other shores. They are pets for the days less Important than love, when Summer Lake says it’s Humble, because it knows the right thing to say.

Summer Lake gives the comfort of commonly held And seriously absurd beliefs to the blue heron. Nothing is wrong with this lake or anything in it,

Not even the ghost of Amerigo Vespucci. It’s all so Simple to the stiff-necked molecules of water, made out Of frogs and snails and puppy-dog’s tails. These thoughts

Are fine manna in a fine ditch. Post-structuralist squirrels Can tell my heart’s in Italy, and I’m in the intellectual Laity. Chivalry’s technician sees my shovel, and they say,

‘You’ve got to hand it to him.’ Neurocysticercosis Sets the bar high; it looks at this park, and thinks The smartest monkey drew the perfect landscape.

That’s this maple tree’s previous disease, its precious One. It unfurls the ferns of my firm and foremost Beliefs, I’m told, to partialize insufferable vastidity.

We Install a Sump Pump on (What Used To Be) a Holiday (Take 2)

The oppressive heat was born a fully grown Man. I admire the result of its effort, but Despise the means of achieving it. My wife Asserts her individuality in the gunk; her Body’s allegations aren’t too soft or hard today. Her self-interest seems to have drowned in the vortex.

Our little garden knows flippancy with regards To privacy is unwise. The stepping stones can Only blather, as slugs draw nomograms on Their faces. My wife’s body speaks Proto-Indo- European in the vortex and denim overalls. Marc Chagall’s The Poet studies her. He calls her

‘Innocence: The opposite of life! A criminal with A badge!’ I hand her the tools of a crude and Rudimentary faith, and she says, ‘Jill, great books Make fine shackles.’ Her arms only have An administrative objective in the vortex, but They are where good things come from.

Jake Sheff is a pediatrician in Oregon and veteran of the US Air Force. He's married with a daughter and whole lot of pets. Poems of Jake’s are in Radius, The Ekphrastic Review, Crab Orchard Review, The Cossack Review and elsewhere. He won 1st place in the 2017 SFPA speculative poetry contest and a Laureate's Choice prize in the 2019 Maria W. Faust Sonnet Contest. Past poems and short stories have been nominated for the Best of the Net Anthology and the Pushcart Prize. His chapbook is “Looting Versailles” (Alabaster Leaves Publishing).

[acavatica]

i-wakeupstrange said:

i’m not including this in my review of the elevator fic because it was becoming its own huge, ridiculous tangent, but in short: it’s now my headcanon that Marco is into anime (OF COURSE why didn’t I realize sooner) and in a roundabout way that’s Peter’s doing. (he’s a little old for NGE but, I think, about the right age to have gotten real into, say, Robotech. and decide to show his son these shows. because he’s a Cool Dad. or tried to be before... you know.)

Peter told himself that he was watching cartoons because of the baby, but also all the baby books he’d tried to force Eva to read had said that babies have about a foot of vision and see colors like a dog. Then he told himself that he was watching cartoons because the bright colors and laser sounds kept him awake. At least that wasn’t a complete lie. 

The full truth was that he thought Robotech was cool. It was serialized, which was more than he could say for any American TV shows. It wasn’t as if Peter could read Dune with a baby in his arms no matter how much he wanted to, even if he’d missed the last two books and another was coming out later that year. And it wasn’t as if Peter could read Dune anyway since he was off Ritalin again, but that was neither here nor there. TV shows would catch up to book series eventually.

The fact that it had a story he could follow was just a bonus. The real draw of Robotech was that it aired in marathons in the middle of the night. That was a lot less likely to wake up his ten-week-old than changing his Doctor Who tapes every four episodes. Plus, he’d had to pay someone on USENET to ship the tapes all the way from Brighton. If he wore them out, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to find the guy ripping VHS tapes on net.tv.drwho again.

Eva’s alarm went off, muffled by the bedroom door. Peter closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the couch cushion. 5:30 already. He’d been letting her get most of the sleep to reimburse her for the whole pregnancy thing, but now that she was going back to work, he wouldn’t even have a choice.

He listened to her shuffle around the kitchen. He heard every step of her putting on a pot of coffee. Eva never did anything quietly, but it hadn’t taken him long to get used to it. After all, there was nothing more comforting than knowing his ever-so-slightly evil partner would at least never be able to sneak up on him. 

He opened his eyes to catch her shaking out her still-rumpled hair and stretching out the crick in her back. He heard that too, from all the way across the room. Another thing Peter was repaying her for. She saw him watching and closed the distance between them. Eva draped her elbows over the back of the couch and touched her cheek to Peter’s head. Peter took a deep breath, and he smelled her shampoo and the coffee and their new baby. 

Putting his PhD on hold was worth it.

Eva cocked her head to the side, rolling her chin over Peter’s forehead. “Wow, look at her hair. Japan really has progressive ideas about the meaning of ‘spiral curls.’” She walked around to the front of the couch, plopped down, and held out her arms. “Hand him over.”

Marco started whining almost immediately. 

“I’m surprised you know it’s Japanimation.”

Eva rolled her eyes. “We had Japanese cartoons in Mexico. And actually, the acting was way better than this.”

“Yeah, but were there giant fighting robots?”

“I dunno, this shit is for nerds.” Marco was still fussing in her arms, but she was looking down at him like she understood where he was coming from. “You’re gonna make our kid a nerd, aren’t you?”

Peter smiled. “I don’t know what you expected when you decided to have a baby with me.”

“Feh, yeah, ‘decided.’” Eva stretched her leg out and gave Peter’s knee a good nudge.

She pulled her leg back, crossed her ankles, and cradled Marco with her whole body. All three of them fell quiet, and Minmay sang Marco back to sleep.

⁠—⁠—⁠— 

Marco was born whining, and after four years, he still only stopped when he was asleep.

“Why do I have to do daycare?”

“You asked to watch Voltron. It’s the fifth time we’ve watched Voltron. Please watch Voltron.”

Marco bobbed his head back and forth as he quoted the onscreen conversation between Queen Merla and King Zarkon: “The chamber is full of quarks. ⁠— Quirks? ⁠— No, quarks. You see, everything is made of atoms, and all atoms are made of quarks. ⁠— Hm, nice, but how does it work? ⁠— Well, there are six kinds of quarks: up, down, top, bottom, strange. And my favorite kind, charmed.”

“Well. At least we can be sure you’re my kid. And Eva’s. And of why I like this show.”

“If you like it, don’t complain.”

Peter ran his hand over his hair and tried to ignore how thin it was getting. “Definitely Eva’s kid…” 

Marco rolled over closer to Peter and looked up at him pleadingly. “Whyyy do I have to do daycare?”

“Because,” Peter said reluctantly. “I finally finished school, and it was really hard, but I got a cool job out of it.”

Marco’s eyes basically tripled in size, and he poked out his lower lip. Definitely, 100% for sure, Eva’s kid. “But I’ll miss you.”

Peter sighed. “I’ll miss you too. But you’re starting school in the fall anyway, so think of it like practice.”

Marco crossed his arms and turned his eyes back to the TV. He stayed quiet for maybe a minute, long enough for the pilots to form Voltron. Without taking his eyes off the TV, he said, “What if they don’t know how to microwave Spaghetti-Os?”

“If there’s any lesson you have to learn, it’s that sometimes you have to settle for Spaghetti-Os that aren’t made by Chef Boyardee Champion of the World, Your Dad.”

“Spaghetti-Os aren’t even Chef Boyardee,” Marco mumbled.

Peter reached his leg over and nudged Marco’s knee with his foot. “Don’t you want to be brave like Lance?”

Marco pushed Peter’s foot away, crossed his arms again, and sank into the couch. “No. I wanna be diablo-lolical like Prince Lotor.”

“Well, Prince Lotor doesn’t even need his dad.”

Marco glanced over at Peter, and Peter grinned. Marco sank even further into the couch until his feet almost touched the floor.

⁠—⁠—⁠— 

The bluish glow of the TV cast long shadows across the room. There wasn’t much contrast because it was a pretty dark movie, but Marco was still illuminated against the dull, colorless room. The volume was only one notch above mute, but he was sitting on his knees, so close to the TV that he could almost make out every word. It’s not like the sound would have bothered his dad, even if he turned it all the way up. Marco kept it low so he could still hear Peter breathing, and even acknowledging that feeling ate away his insides.

It had been a whole year, and for a while Marco had tried not to think about how he was the only thing keeping his dad alive, in more ways than one. It got harder the longer Peter didn’t get better. Marco didn’t even have cable to distract himself from his messed up life. He just had the same old VHS tapes, and they’d had to donate a bunch of them to Goodwill when they’d moved. 

The box was still there, still packed and next to the TV, labeled in Marco’s sloppy kid handwriting. Peter hadn’t helped with the move⁠—it had mostly been Jake’s family and his mom’s relatives he’d never met and would probably never see again. Marco could still see his hands pulling the tapes off the shelves, sorting them, reading the labels in Peter’s sloppy grownup handwriting, and not being able to bear to throw away the memories of sitting between his mom and dad with popcorn in his lap, even if he might never be able to watch those tapes again.

There were only a few tapes scattered around the plastic milk crate the TV sat on. The rest were still in the box. Marco had gone through them dozens of times, and he was still limited to the few tapes he didn’t associate with a time when he had a family. 

He’d never watched Ghost in the Shell with his dad. That was probably a good thing, because there was a lot of nudity, and that was always awkward. There was also some gore, which Peter knew gave Marco nightmares, even if he pretended not to be scared. Marco had played the movie in front of Peter dozens of times anyway, but his eyes didn’t track it, and he didn’t tell Marco that he should turn it off, he was too young to see all these nipples.

Marco turned around, blinded from sitting so close to the TV. He didn’t need to see his dad. He knew he was curled in on himself, his face buried in the place where the back of the couch met the seat and the arm. There was no way to know if he was asleep or awake, and Marco wasn’t even sure those words had meaning in Peter’s life anymore.

“Hey Dad,” Marco said, his voice creaky, either from disuse, disgust, or some other kind of emotion. “What do you think about the whole brains jacking into the internet thing? Realistic? It seems like the kind of thing you’d have worked on.”  Marco listened to Peter’s breathing. It never changed. Marco could say anything. “You know. When you worked.”

Marco turned away, back to the TV. He pressed Stop, and the tape clicked off, flooding the room with light so bright and blue, it hurt his eyes. He pressed rewind and the whir of the tape drowned out Peter’s breathing. It was crazy, but as the VCR started to grind to the end of the tape, Marco was suddenly, irrationally, completely sure that when the tape stopped rolling, the room would be totally silent. His body flashed hot and then cold and his pulse pounded painfully in his temples.

The tape clicked off. Marco held his breath.

Peter breathed in. Out. In. Out.

Marco pressed play, turned the volume up a few more notches, and got to his feet. As he passed, he shoved his dad’s leg with his foot. He stood over him, waiting like he expected some kind of reaction. The TV lit up his motionless body in green, gray, white. The cyborg pulled the cables out of her neck and stood.

“If only someone would ghost hack you.”

Marco went into his bedroom⁠—the only bedroom⁠—and slammed the door.  

⁠—⁠—⁠— 

Marco’s back was flat against the dirt floor of the scoop, his head resting on his folded arms. His right leg was draped over Ax’s back and he’d slowly tangled his left leg up in Ax’s tail. Ax didn’t like that, and he knew Ax didn’t like it, and that’s why he’d taken it slow. He’d started by sticking his leg under Ax’s tail. He’d waited a couple weeks, and then he’d surreptitiously make a loop over the course of an hour. Now, after like a month of acclimating him, Ax’s tail was wrapped around Marco’s leg like a boa constrictor, and maybe Ax didn’t even notice.

He definitely noticed. Marco had just pulled off an incredible feat of exposure therapy. Ax just wasn’t allergic to how annoying Marco was anymore. Too bad the allergy was familial, and it was harder to wallow a hawk into submission.

<You’re not even watching,> Tobias complained.

Marco lolled his head to the side and pointed his eyes at the TV. “Why are you making me read TV, Tobias? The point of TV is to not have to read.”

<Subtitles are more authentic,> Tobias said, his voice dripping with condescension.

“But what about Ax? Poor Ax can’t read at all.”

<I can read,> Ax said, his voice a mixture of defensive and arrogant. <And even if I couldn’t, my translator chip has no trouble processing Japanese.> Snobbiness ran in their family too. 

“I’m just saying, I’d be able to pay more attention if I could understand the words and look at the pictures at the same time. You know, how it’s intended to be consumed?”

<It’s intended to be consumed in Japanese.> 

Marco rolled his eyes and sighed. It was the obnoxious kind of sigh, the voiced kind that’s practically a groan. “It’s just robots, dude, it’s not that serious.”

<Neon Genesis Evangelion is art, Marco,> Tobias said, ratcheting the pretension up to eleven. <It’s an exploration of how humanity would develop, given exposure to advanced alien technology in the face of an oncoming alien threat. And the only thing protecting humanity from annihilation is some teenagers with special powers. It’s like, relatable.> 

“Wow,” Marco said sarcastically. “Never seen anything like that before.” That was basically the plot of Robotech mixed with Voltron, but boring.

<I mean, you must have never seen anime before, or you’d know how terrible the English dubs are.>

Marco sat up on his elbows and narrowed his eyes. Ax tightened his tail ever so slightly around Marco’s leg, like he was trying to hold him back. Marco pulled his leg free. “That’s pretty funny, since how could you even have watched so much subbed anime when no one cared enough about you to buy you decent clothes or new shoes or Clearasil? Let alone to go out of their way to buy you anime, subtitled specifically, the way it’s intended, of course.”

Tobias stared at him. Ax stared at him. Hell, Shinji Ikari stared at him.

Marco couldn’t take even a minute of it. “Say something.”

<I just wanted to share something I like with you.> 

Tobias opened his wings, fluttered to the edge of the scoop entrance, and flew away.

Ax was still looking at him with all four eyes. Marco squirmed, but he pressed his lips into a line and didn’t break eye contact.

<That was too far,> Ax said finally, his voice more gentle than Marco deserved. <Why did you react so forcefully?>

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Marco leaned around Ax, grabbed the remote, and changed the audio to English. “Let’s just watch this dumb robot show.”

[r-u-in-or-r-u-out]

Pixar’s recent short, Out is the kind of LGBTQ representation we need more of.

Out features “Pixar’s first LGBTQ protagonist”, (Jake Coyle, “With a gay protagonist, Pixar short ‘Out’ makes history”) Greg, who is based on the writer and director, Hunter. 

Hunter’s personal relationship to the narrative is partially what makes this short so groundbreaking in children’s media. For its lack of a strong intersectional approach to discussing multiple identity locations including race, class, and disability, Pixar’s decision to produce and promote Out is emblematic of a shift in social consciousness. It’s not without its issues, but if children are to have any examples of positive LGBTQ+ representation, Out is a good start.

Out features Greg and Manuel, a couple preparing to move from the suburbs to the city, and the story begins with the telltale appearance of a rainbow, wink wink. A pink dog and a purple cat jump out of the rainbow and look through a portal to a middle-class suburban house with a car and a moving van in the driveway. The pair charm the collar of Greg and Manuel’s dog Jim, though the reason is unclear. 

Homodomesticity:

It’s worth noting, Pixar chose the stereotypical white middle-class version of queerness instead of leaning into the already groundbreaking territory. But it is revolutionary in its use of homodomesticity in a children’s story.Steven Edward Duran describes the history of gay domesticity in American media as largely absent until shows like Will & Grace and Ellen came on the scene in the 1990s and early aughts. Homodomesticity is the concept of disrupting “rigid gender identities, heterosexuality, and traditional family values,” by including gay men in pop culture’s domestic and home environments. Queer studies tend to view domesticity as a depoliticizing force, particularly in television and visual media because the association of home and television reinforces the heteronormative social cues presented in the media. While it’s true that Greg and Manuel’s relationship in Out is clearly domestic, it is re-politicized in that the story is geared towards children. The short breaks the ice on a long absence of homodomesticity in Disney and Pixar’s content, sending a message to children that gay men can, and do, have long-term relationships and stable romance.

Post-racialism at work:

Greg is a burly, lumberjack type, white cis male with a thick red beard and red hair. Manuel is also a cisgender man, but any clue as to his cultural background, class, race, or other identities is absent. In the face of Greg’s multiple social locations, the ambiguity of Manuel’s intersectional identity is odd. Greg expresses an intersectional identity: white, gay, and (likely) middle class, while Manuel’s only clear identity-marker is his sexuality. His intersectional identity is effectively erased and boiled down to the singular: gay, a mark of post-racialism that ultimately upholds white dominance and hegemonic systems of power (M. Shane Grant, “We’re All Freaks Together: White Privilege and Mitigation of Queer Community”). This is reinforced by Manuel’s brown skin but otherwise ambiguous racial or cultural identities. Pixar could have expanded the narrative to include more of Manuel’s identity and his role in Greg’s life, but he is instead relegated to the background of Greg’s story. This is likely because Greg is based on the writer’s real-life experience, but it doesn’t mean that Pixar couldn’t have played with the story just a bit.

The photo:

Greg’s boyfriend, Manuel, reveals a framed photo of the two in an intimate embrace. The photo is the pivot point that instigates Greg’s coming-out. The couple discuss the fact that Greg hasn’t come out to his parents yet. Lo and behold, Greg’s parents show up unexpectedly to help with the move. Greg freaks out, photo in hand, shuts the door on his parents, and asks/ forces Manuel to leave out the back door. But as Manuel leaves, he says to Greg, “tell them.”

In choosing to focus on the big reveal of Greg’s sexual orientation, Out reinforces the concept that LGBTQ+ sexuality must be public information in order for characters like Greg to feel authentic (Tracy L. Hawkins, “Coming Out: Challenging Portrayals of Diverse Sexuality”).

White Privilege:

The visual cue of Manuel’s exit out the back door is interesting: Greg isn’t hesitant to tell his parents about the real nature of his relationship with Manuel because he isn’t white, but the move nonetheless serves to privilege whiteness. Kate Sullivan Barak noted in her analysis of Piper Chapman’s white privilege in Orange is the New Black, “conversations about privilege, oppression, and race suffer if this invisibility goes unaddressed” (Feminist Perspectives on “Orange is the New Black”, pg. 48). The invisibility of Greg’s skin color and its associated privileges does go unaddressed. Pixar chooses to focus solely on Greg’s sexual orientation, entrenching the emphasis placed on coming out in pop culture at the exclusion of other relevant conversations in the LGBTQ+ movement.

Mind Swap:

Greg eventually opens the door for his parents after carefully hiding the photo in a stack of books on the coffee table. While considering the weight of his secret, sequestered in his bedroom for a moment, Greg looks deep into Jim’s eyes while holding the magic collar and says, “I wish I was a dog.” In a “Freaky Friday”-esque flash, Jim and Greg’s consciousnesses swap. Several near-discoveries of the photo ensue as Greg-in-Jim’s body attempts to keep the photo hidden and Jim-in-Greg’s body sniffs his dad’s butt and disappears chasing a squirrel. In a surprise twist, Greg’s mom reveals that she knew her son was gay. Not only does she know, but she just wants her son to find a man who loves him and to be happy. Greg’s mom’s response to her son’s sexuality is the reaction we hope for, even if it’s not always realistic.

The story has a happy ending: Jim and Greg successfully mind-swap back, Greg brings Manuel home, and the whole family shares hot cocoa. Yay! 

Purple cat and pink dog share a moment of victory at their successful adventure and return through their rainbow portal.

Conclusion:

I love Out’s positive take on coming out. It’s not a gay story by a straight author seeking to increase the studio’s diversity quota. It’s based on the struggle of a real person. It’s not dressed up in glamour or pretention. The style destigmatizes homosexuality and homodomesticity, confronting the sexual othering that is common in pivotal LGBTQ texts (Brian L. Ott & Robert L Mack, Chapter 9: “Queer Analysis”). Hegemonic power structures do not willingly give ground, particularly when it comes to the social education of children. Pixar’s material is geared towards a young audience, an audience that is often ignored in conversations of representation despite the disproportionate impact that media has on youth. For Pixar’s first LGBTQ protagonist, this is a big step in the right direction.

References:

Barak, S. K. “Jenji Kohan’s Trojan Horse: Subversive Uses of Whiteness”. Feminist Perspectives on Orange is the New Black. Pages 45 - 60.

Coyle, J. “With a gay protagonist, Pixar short ‘Out’ makes history”. https://www.seattletimes.com/entertainment/with-a-gay-protagonist-pixar-short-out-makes-history/.

Duran, S. E. (2013). Housebroken: Homodomesticity and the Normalization of Queerness in Modern Family (pp. 95-104). In P. Demory & C. Pullen (Eds.), Queer Love in Film and Television: Critical Essays. Palgrave Macmillan.

Grant, S. M. “We’re All Freaks Together: White Privilege and Mitigation of Queer Community”. Queer in the Choir Room: Essays on Gender and Sexuality in Glee. Pages 69 -83. https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/osu/reader.action?docID=1819253.

Hawkins, L. T. “Coming Out: Challenging Portrayals of Diverse Sexualities”. Queer in the Choir Room: Essays on Gender and Sexuality in Glee. Pgs. 11 - 23.

https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/osu/reader.action?docID=1819253.

Hunter, C. S. (2020). Out [Film]. Pixar Animation Studios & Walk Disney Animation Studios.

Kadi, J. “Homophobic Workers or Elitist Queers?”. Pages 143 - 157.

Mack, B. L. & Ott, L. R. Chapter 9: Queer Analysis in Critical Media Studies.

[skeletorific]

CLASSPECTING TIME

You have no idea how fucking long this took. Also I’m willing to like hear ideas about this but as these are my personal headcanons don’t be like….weird about it ahfdksafd classes are FAKE AF and we are all just guessing bitches out here.

Ardata Carmia: Maid of Doom. A Maid is typically understood as “one who creates [aspect]/creates though [aspect]” for the benefit of others. The Doom aspect represents death, suffering, misery and destruction, something Ardata quite literally serves up on a silver platter for her subscribers. She creates (relatively) low stakes of misery for her subscribers to watch and enjoy, as well as to feed her lusus’ hunger for blood. Despite the apparent selfish motivations, its clear that Ardata doesn’t really enjoy what she does. At least, not for its own sake. Its a means to fulfill the role she believes society demands of her, even if filling it makes her actively miserable and very, very lonely. 

Diemen Xicasi: Page of Hope. A page is typically understood as one who “provides [aspect]/provides through [aspect]” for themselves. While his meal of choice may be some savory meat products, Diemen’s real bread and butter is his unwavering optimism. Not to say he’s always looking on the bright side, merely that he allows the miserable realities of being a homeless rustblood on Alternia to wash off his back. Like other pages that have proceeded him (Tavros Nitram and Jake English), Diemen has been noted to have an effect on people that makes them want to help him, without any apparent psiionic tricks to force it out of them. Furthermore, when he really wishes for something (and its usually hot dogs), well, things have a way of working out in his favor, no matter the twists and turns it takes to get there.

Amisia Erdehn: Heir of Mind. I’m gonna be honest, Amisia was tricky. Mind doesn’t on first glance seem like a natural fit for her. However, while there’s a variety of definitions for what an Heir does, I prefer the description of the Heir as someone who strives (or succeeds) to wholly embody their aspect. As such, Amisia is the pure embodiment of both Mind’s decisive problem solving and single-minded logical framework. Need paints? Well, blood is multicolored. Actual creation is difficult, yes, but when it comes to getting the right materials, well, there’s no one more driven and no one less deterred by mere sentiment. This isn’t to say she’s emotionless, merely that emotions are often an obstruction to her true potential, rather than an aid.

Cirava Hermod: Prince of Hope. Awful dark class for such a chill motherfucker, but like most things about Cirava, it makes far, far more sense in context. Hope is about convictions, about right and wrong, about doing what your internal code compels you towards. And, there was a time when Cirava felt like this. They would constantly get into fights on Chittr with highbloods, despite knowing it was risky, because they felt it was wrong to take credit for their work. However, the Prince is ultimately one who bring about destruction through/destruction of their aspect. Cirava certainly brings about destruction in a physical sense: they destroy their eye in order to prevent injustice. Likewise, they take the time to try and destroy their own connections to the hopeful aspect, attempting to kill off their morals and content themselves with keeping their head down and quietly streaming.

Skylla Koriga: Knight of Time. While Time is perhaps the aspect most bound up in the mechanics of Sburb/Sgrub, its ultimately defined by a determination to triumph despite the odds. In Skylla’s case, like Dave Strider, that desire is tempered by a sense that what she does should be for the sake of others. Skylla is one of the most selfless trolls we encounter, expressing generosity and kindness to a stranger even at her own personal costs and even expressing confusion when others (like Konyyl) are not so kind. Skylla, while she may slip into despair when the situation is pulled beyond her control, ultimately refuses to take anything lying down that she can fight against.

Bronya Ursama: Sylph of Breath. The typical verb applied to a Sylph is “one who heals through/heals their aspect” for the sake of others. In general, I prefer the verb “restores”, as it has a broader application. However, in Bronya’s case, that healing is for the most part literal. Breath is the aspect of freedom and individuality, which seems an odd choice for the rules-oriented Bronya. However, by looking at the people in her life it begins to snap into greater clarity. Bronya may restrain herself, but her presence provides freedom to so many characters: she gives the reject wrigglers a chance at new life even when the culling system would condemn them to death. The other jades are allowed the freedom to explore themselves and the world around them because, on some level, they know Bronya will protect them from consequences as much as she can. Bronya does not serve freedom or necessarily provide it wholecloth, but she restores it to others who would have it taken from them otherwise.

Tagora Gorjek: Thief of Space. Space is hard. Like time, its an aspect very bound up in the mechanics of Sburb. How Kanaya describes it, as concerned with propagation, didn’t seem to have much to do with a guy who doesn’t seem concerned with much more than the propagation of his own wealth. This is part of why Thief felt natural for Tagora: “one who steals/steals through their aspect” for themselves. However, as we’ve seen from Meenah and Vriska, while the motives of a Thief may often be selfish, it doesn’t mean that they are necessarily harmful to the party. The Thief will take the most direct path to getting what they want, but if what they want is the good of the party, then they make powerful allies. Space heroes, like Tagora, are creative and very aware of the way they go through the world. Tagora is environmentally aware, which is part of what makes him an effective legislacerator (and an effective con artist).

Vikare Ratite: Mage of Mind. The Mage, like the Seer, is bound up in knowledge about their aspect. However, they are often cursed by either an excess of or severe shortage of their aspect. Vikare, arguably, suffers from both an excess AND a shortage of Mind. On the one hand, atmospheric flight a logical first step before interstellar flight, and the fact that Alternia didn’t take that step is in fact, pretty fucking wild if you consider it. Vikare suffers by being (apparently) the only one aware of this level of absurdity. However, in other respects, Vikare is cursed by a lack of Mind when it comes to decisive action. Rather than actively pursuing his desires, he hides them behind an apparent embrace of his true role, and eventually has to have flight “forced” on him for him to truly enjoy it.

Polypa Goezee: Rogue of Breath. Polypa here can be seen to be stealing her aspect in two regards. One, she is literally stealing “breath”, or life (not to be confused with Life GODS ASPECTS ARE HARD) from her targets. Two, she is in some sense stealing their movement and independence, in particular from highbloods, who are not used to the fear of death impeding their choices in the way it impedes the lowblood. However, unlike the Thief, Polypa steals for the sake of others, whether it be working as a hired killer, getting vengeance for her lost lusus, or protecting her friends from the uncomfortable truths that would force them to act against their true wishes (as with Tegiri).

Zebruh Codakk: Heir of Doom. One who invites misery and despair wherever they go. Definitely sounds like how it feels when Zebruh walks in a room. Jokes aside, Zebruh is drawn to situations of misery and destruction (e.g., his attraction towards lowbloods) out of some latent sense that he can exploit it. If the Heir is someone who reaps the benefits of their aspect, then Zebruh certainly fits the bill. Likewise, the world is affected when the Heir is finally allowed to “Become” their aspect. Easily one of the endings most literal about it being a “doomed” timeline is Marvus’ bad ending; notably, its also the only ending where Zebruh dies. When Zebruh finally fulfills the promise of doom, the entire timeline goes down with him. That is very possibly some powerful godtier commentary.

Elwurd: Witch of Hope. One who changes their aspect/changes through their aspect. Elwurd doesn’t believe in shit if she doesn’t want to, and if she wants to believe something then damn it if she won’t make it true. She commits herself consistently to relationships that she knows are a bad idea under the presumption that she can change them. You can’t ever properly convince her that she’s not hung up on her relationship with Bronya. In the end, the only one who can change Elwurd is Elwurd.

Kuprum Maxlol: Knight of Hope. optimistic Duelist has a good video already on the topic and while I disagree with their classpecting for Folkyl ultimately I don’t really feel the need to add much onto it. Suffice to say, Kuprum defies fate for another person. Rather than let voidrot run its course, Kuprum volunteers himself as a battery for his moirail. While its perhaps a short sighted plan, its one that stems wholly from Kuprum’s belief in his ability to make a difference, if not for society at large, at least for one person.

Folykl Darane: Seer of Void. One who is wholly in sync with their aspect, in full understanding of it. Folykl is entirely aligned with the nothingness and emptiness associated with Void, being quite literally denied vision, power, and even the ability to ambulate on her own. Likewise, though, she has a clarity of vision in the metaphorical sense. She accurately assesses both Kuprum’s feelings towards Trizza and Trizza’s worthiness of those feelings, emblematic of Void’s disdain for a comfortable lie. However, true to the passive nature of her class, while she often chastises Kuprum for his feelings she isn’t ultimately willing to do more than bicker about it. 

Remele Namaaq: Page of Space. Initially I thought we might end up with two Thieves of Space, but what important to note is that whle Remele does steal artwork, theft isn’t necessarily her true nature. At her core, she’s an artist that has been forced to become cynical because of the society she lives in. Sburb roles aren’t just meant to embody you. Often they’re meant to challenge you. As such, her more derivative works can be seen less as the final fulfillment of her role and more the beta stage of her coming into her aspect. While it may not show in her artwork yet, Remele demonstrates a great potential for on the spot creative thinking that could potentially be bolstered into a powerful force in its own right. Likewise, like Diemen she demonstrates the Page’s intuitive ability to get people to aid her in her quest, regardless of whether or not its in their own best interests 

Konyyl Okimaw: Prince of Light (because gendered classes are FAKE NEWS). One who destroys/destroys through their aspect. Light is associated with both fortune and knowledge, and Konyyl can be seen destroying (and destroying through) both. Her matesprit, Azdaja, is the Mind aspect: he supplies knowledge to Konyyl, who in turn uses that knowledge to destroy the lives of others. Likewise, she’s heavily resistant to doing the thinking for herself, seeming to intuitively sense its not her role. She’s also a bit on the unlucky side (I mean, what are the odds of an adult troll being there at that exact drop off point) but can destroy the luck of others. By killing them. Worst luck ever. Also she’d look cute in the puffy pants don’t tell me otherwise.

Tyzias Entykk: Page of Blood (damn there’s a lot of pages in here its almost like most of these characters have yet to come to their true potential or something). While its not always the case (Jake English being a notable exception, to my mind), Pages may often start the game with a deficit of their aspect. Tyzias has a deficit of friendships. She mentions she doesn’t have time for any quadrant but her matesprit, who is arguably the only troll on Alternia more overworked than she is. Beyond that, her social circle is restricted to people she meets in class. Despite this, Tyzias has a unique capacity to reach out to other people, which, once tapped into her, makes her a force to reckon with, especially so far as the empire is concerned.

Chixie Roixmr: Witch of Mind. GODS Chixie was so hard. However, what ultimately unlocked it for me was the rap battle. A witch is one who manipulates/manipulates through their aspect. Chixie, for as sweet as she is, is a pretty effective manipulator. She keeps Zebruh on the hook without getting forced into a quadrant with him, she manages to sway the crowd into her favor (despite the fact that no one in their right mind should be siding with a bronzeblood in a highblood owned club), she even manages to get the Reader to act in her favor on certain occasions. She does this through clear, decisive action, and through careful combinations of absorbed information, all of which come to a head in the rap battle. Despite potentially risking everything she’s worked to build, she forces herself onto that stage and, under pressure, synthesizes everything she knows about the band from social media and her own encounters with them into some pretty sick lyrics.

Azdaja Knelax: Thief of Mind. Azdaja, as previously mentioned, is the information half of Konyyl’s duo. Utilizing powerful psiionics, a quick grasp of strategy, and a willingness to do whatever it takes (all of which can be understood as part of the Mind aspect), Azdaja manipulates scenarios into ones that will directly benefit him. Often, he quite garners literal monetary gain, but equally as powerful for him is the added notoriety his actions gain him.

Chahut Maenad: Knight of Hope. No title more fitting for a defender of the faith. Chahut has strong convictions that run to the core of her being, something vital to a Hope player. However, while her convictions may render her single minded, they do not necessarily render her selfless. When the player does not antagonize her morals Chahut seems happy to benefit them (although most players would probably not view being a sacrifice as a benefit). She is happy to learn at the feet of people who have earned her respect, and defend those like Amisia who she considers worth protecting, all of which render her an apt candidate for the Knight category.

Zebede Tongva: Heir of Light. One who embodies their aspect, often perhaps to the point of excess. Zebede is many things, but he is certainly knowledgeable, in particular about his interests. At times, that interest can be cute, but at other times it can lead him towards creepy and possessive behavior. He knows everything about Cirava, to the point that he feels comfortable posting fanfiction about their life. Likewise, he displays frustration and anger when he is not allowed knowledge (or, in a meta sense, is denied union with his aspect), as in hs bad end when the Reader implies they are talking to other people while at Zebede’s house. Zebede, though his method of expression isn’t the healthiest, at his purest form is really just curious about the lives of the people he watches, and allows that curiosity to overcome him. 

Tegiri Kalbur: Rogue of Void. If Tegiri embodies anything to me, its how much the temperament of a person affects their expression of their classpect. On first glance he and Roxy Lalonde have nothing in common. However, like Roxy, Tegiri has the ability to “steal” nothingness by replacing it with something else. He replaces it with order, imposing laws whether otherwise no sane troll would think to enforce them. By doing so, he’s not only stealing away the chaos associated with the Void, but also the sense of meaninglessness he might otherwise succumb to if he ceased to believe in Alternian law (much like a few other teals I could mention). Also like Roxy, Tegiri seems troubled by the sense that he may be irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, and becomes determined to impress his status as a hero of the blade upon us as quickly as possible.

Mallek Adalov: Witch of Time. Ok this one’s a little weird, but hear me out: a Witch, inherently, is about a refusal to accept your aspect as it is. Mallek demonstrates an understanding of the lacking nature of Time. With his Rites of Maturation perigrees away, he has a hard time coming to terms with how little time he has to do everything he wants to do. This might imply a Mage or a Seer, but what strikes me is not that Mallek wants to understand time, but that he is frustrated with his inability to do anything about it. We aren’t really told what he does after his conversation with the reader, but it can perhaps be assumed that, inspired by their words, he is doing what he has to to give himself the time he needed. Were an sgrub session to take place, he would be given the literal chance to do just that.

Lynera Skalbi: Maid of Rage. Again, whipping through an unusual class combo. The Maid is one who creates their aspect, for the benefit of others. Rage is not just about anger (although Lynera certainly has that in spades), but about convictions and truth. Lynera creates her truth and beliefs, and makes them in alignment to the people that matter to her. When she understands that keeping under the radar of Alternian society is important to Bronya, she becomes the bad cop needed to enforce those convictions. When she understands her making other friends is important to the Reader (and to Bronya), she immediately latches onto them as her nearest and dearest friendship. Ultimately we never see Lynera at a healthy place with her aspect, but she’s a dedicated soldier, ready to evangelize (or, create convictions) on behalf of the people in her life to matter to her.

Galekh Xigisi: Seer of Blood. The Seer is of course, associated with understanding. However, its important that unlike the Mage, one who already understands and suffers from it, the Seer is rather one who invites understanding. They may have a large knowledge base already as regards their aspect (a la Terezi with Mind) but are constantly on the hunt for more to the benefit of their party. Galekh, while he can be pompous and uptight, at his very core wants to understand people, and the people who matter to those he cares about especially. He is one of the few trolls to approach us with the explicit intent of forming a relationship (and deepening an existing one with Tagora). That wordiness and sense of self-righteousness likewise aligns him with our other known Seer of Blood, Kankri Vantas, although Galekh has arguably gotten more of a chance to mature than Kankri got.

Tirona Kasund: Thief of Heart. Tirona seeks to override the convictions, and by extension the “soul”, of others, whether by force or by persuasion. Her memeaganda is one branch of this, ingratiating the Heiress to people in a way that will make them forget the various ways in she has harmed her. Likewise, she goes rooting through the offices of their friends to dig up details about their personal opinions and politics in order to expose them for her own gain. Heart Players really can’t catch a break outside of Boldir huh. Speaking of…

Boldir Lamati: Muse of Heart. Unusual, I know, but then, she’s an unusual lady. Not much is known about the muse class, given that our only Muse is Calliope. Typically, the verb that I would assign to the Muse is “inspires” or “unifies”, as a contrast to the Lord’s “command” or “dominates”. Boldir’s strong unity of the self would likely explain how she demonstrates an uncanny awareness over the strange time activities. She is, arguably, on the verge of becoming her ultimate self. Likewise, simply by being around her the reader becomes deeply aware of their alternate selves. However, unlikely Dirk’s existential dread in the face of his splinters, Boldir inspires that peace and independence unique to the Muse class which allows her to transcend the division of self so often toxic to Heart Players.

Stelsa Sezyat: Knight of Blood. Together with Galekh, they’re two halves of a whole Signless kin. Knights defend their aspect and defend through their aspect. In the case of relationships, Stelsa does both. She is a loyal and caring friend, always on call for both the Reader and her matesprit Tyzias even when she disagrees with their actions. Likewise, Stelsa’s strongest asset, in addition to her boundless energy and organizational talent, is her capacity for networking. More so than perhaps any other troll, Stelsa understands that the key to victory sometimes isn’t what you can do, but who you know. In the event she goes godtier, though, the first thing she’s doing is ditching the hood. Not subjecting her hair to that, no sir.

Marsti Houtek: Heir of Void (side note, Inherit Nothing by phemieC may have been written for Equius but it is a jam and a half and kind of snaps this class into greater perspective for me). Like every troll on Alternia, Marsti has been forced most of her life to confront her limited options under the hemocaste system. True to her nature as a Void player, she seemed to have accepted her apparent irrelevance in the grand scheme of thing. As an heir, she embodies not only this irrelevance, but the enigma around it. We’re never truly given an insight into how Marsti actually would want her life to go. She seems resistant to any attempts to force her into some kind of emotional arc. Rather, she frames her actions in terms of simple “this is what I do” statements. Marsti is content with her own nothingness, and is frustrated by people who cannot accept that about her.

Karako Pierot: I uh…..really like the Lord of Mind theory. There are a lot of mind players in Hiveswap, but Karako, to me, embodies the karma aspect of Mind more clearly than any that proceed him. He either gets justice against his attackers, or, should he be killed, the reader feels compelled to enact that justice on others. Karako at once breaks the rules of his aspect (his illogical speaking patterns, his afterlife return to the Dark Carnival, the embodiment of whimsy and mystery) while commanding it through his will and the forces surrounding him. 

Charun Krojib: Sylph of Rage. If Lynera embodies the part of Rage that deals with convictions, then Charun embodies the more anarchic, confusing parts of the Aspect. However, they do not seem to use it for destructive purposes, but deconstructive. Charun meets the player at a point when they are feeling low and burnt out and angry. However subtextually, Doc Scratch’s imposition over their narrative is starting to chafe at them a bit. Charun utilizes that anger and that confusion into a tool for healing via their art. They encourage the Reader to make something. Doesn’t matter what: if it turns out crap that it can just be stripped down and made again. And working with those nebulous guidelines, the Reader is able to process their frustration into art. Art that has no set meaning, but who’s lack of stakes and general confusion bring healing to the reader. Thus, Charun embodies the Sylph’s restorative role. 

Wanshi Adyata: Seer of Doom. Seers are often seen as already understanding their aspect in some respect, but the role of Seer is one who is perpetually learning and understanding more about their aspect. Notably, Rose and Terezi are both still having revelations about the nature of their aspects and abilities even as late as Act 6, where most of the other players have broadly figured out their own as far as they need to. Wanshi has demonstrated a proclivity towards knowledge and understanding, being a voracious reader. However, we as the Reader are there with her as she takes her first steps into her aspect. Though no stranger to the suffering of Alternia, we see her experience death in the most direct way she has at that point in her life, and struggle to comprehend it. Depending on how Hiveswap goes, as she grows older she may be forced to reckon with this role, and part of her maturation will be whether she buckles under the negativity of doom, or successfully incorporates it into her worldview, allowing it to inform her without sinking her. 

Fozzer Velyes: Bard of Heart. Man, heartbound derse players just canNOT catch a break….criminal. In any case, the heart has to do with the self, the soul, and the identity. The Bard is not someone who destroys, but someone who invites destruction of (or destruction through) their aspect. Notably, bards often demonstrate avoidant personalities, often refusing to directly confront the things that scare them (as Fozzer with the ghosts), and are prone to talking big game but falling victim to minor hitches in their plans (as the Reader notes contrasting his cowardly reactions with his revolutionary spiel). Fozzer’s self is in fact destroyed over the course of his route, and rewritten by forces beyond his control. Its possible he will continue to enact this role on others. If we’ve seen anything from homestuck, its that bards are the ones to watch out for.

Marvus Xoloto: Seer of Time. Alright, so like I said, I’m like 99% sure we’re do for some kind of twist with Marvus. However, the Caprist sign he’s been previously associated with is timebound, and based on his bad end especially I’d say that’s a good fit. The Seer is the role I chose because Marvus doesn’t really seem to exert any particular control over his aspect, nor does he feel bound to serve it (actively defying it, in fact). Rather, he demonstrates a more in-depth of the machinations of paradox space and “canon” than any character prior, arguably even more than Dirk. Marvus may not successfully wrest control of the narrative, but he provides further insight into the function of doomed timelines, as well as some possible hints as to how paradox space’s pull can be resisted by means other than the retcon juju. 

Daraya Jonjet: Rogue of Hope. Something notable about rogues is that in their immature stages: a lot of them seem to initially covet their opposite aspect. Roxy, Rogue of Void, struggled with a desire for recognition from others (Light). Rufioh, Rogue of Breath, tries desperately to forge relationships that ultimately he isn’t ready to live out (Blood). Likewise, Daraya seems desperate to perform the anarchic and embittered Rage aspect. Her bad ending is her giving herself fully to these bitter teen “burn it all down” impulses. However, that’s not ultimately how she’s happiest. She is at her best when she learns to redistribute Hope to other people. Notably she’s the first person we make legitimate effort to connect with Tyzias’ revolutionary actions. Tyzias is a powerhouse in her own right, true, but she’s one person, and though her Blood aspect gives the the ability to connect to other people, as we’ve seen she’s not the best at rallying the troops (given that her attempts at a pep talk with Daraya fall flat with the Reader not there to help). Daraya, as she grows into her role and partners more with Tyzias, may be able to help with that, stealing the Hope so long denied alternian trolls and giving it back to the people with her rebellious actions. One things for sure: the two are stronger together than they are apart.

Nikhee Moolah: Knight of Rage. She weaponizes anger into her powerful arsenal, but arguably does do it for the benefit of others. In her good ending she strengthens the reader to their utmost, actually reaping muscular benefits as a result. Likewise, her fights are (arguably) a place of catharsis for Alternian trolls and may draw in more outsiders (given the only non-clown purple we have ever seen is….there PLEASE SOMEONE EXPLAIN THIS NOT CLOWN TO ME WHAT’S THEIR STORY). That anger becomes just as powerful a tool turned against the Reader as it is for the Reader, but ultimately Nikhee seems to do what she does for the good of her audience.

Lanque Bombyx: Thief of Life. Insert mandatory vampire joke here, but its not far off from how Lanque goes about his day to day. Life isn’t just about literally being alive, its also associated with growth, betterment, and positivity. We see Lanque take these things, especially from Lynera. While the amount of growth Lynera really demonstrated is VERY debatable, its hard to argue that Lanque immediately shut down the first attempt at reaching out to someone romantically that Lynera has done for anyone but Bronya, immediately turning it into an opportunity to put the moves on someone else. This may nudge him into the Prince class, but I think its more accurate to assert that Lanque isn’t destroying his aspect, necessarily, as he certainly seems to benefit from it. Instead, he’s simply ensuring that no one else gets it. Lanque is childish in temperament, and may assume that other people are as slow to mature as he is. Likewise he displays the Thief’s attitude that “I should get what I want if I’m smart enough and strong enough to take it” that we see with both Meenah and Vriska. Like both of those characters, he’s not necessarily doomed to evil behavior, merely that its more realistic to hope that he’ll start to see the good of the party as beneficial to him as well, rather than wish he’d just lose his self-interested ways (as Bronya does).

Barzum and Baizli Soleil: the fact that these two embody two different aspects (Breath and Doom respectively) seems to imply that there is at least some difference between the two twins, but whatever it is is hard to riddle out, given that they effectively switch personalities on a whim. As such, its possible to see Breath and Doom as merely two potentials towards which they could drift, either becoming more and more individuated as they embrace their Breath aspect or more and more singular as they embrace Doom. As such, I would probably assign them both the page role, as they are both untapped potential yet to mature enough to really embody anything but chaos.

[yeetingmyfeeling]

A Rose Tattoo (wolfstar fic)

It was a brilliant, sunshiny morning. The sun was bright being seven in the morning on a Monday in London, granted, it was the middle of summer. It wasn’t too hot yet, but was sure to heat up as the day progressed. Remus knew this, but as usual threw on a long sleeved shirt and jeans. 

Remus Lupin, 20 years old. He is tall, standing six foot two, with lanky legs- lanky everything. Striking bone structure and a skinny body. He’s got brown eyes, with speckles of green in them. Light brown fluffy hair. As well as scars on his face, but a smile that could brighten up any room.

“I’m heading down,” Remus called out to the flat as he was putting on his Dr Martens. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for the response.

“Okay!” A soft feminine voice called back. “Who’s on today?” The voice asked as the owner walked around a corner.

A woman appeared, the same age as Remus. She stands lower than Remus, at five foot five. She has a good build. Sse has green eyes and long red hair that goes down to her waist. Her smile was kind. Her name, Lily Evans.

“Myself, as usual,” Remus mumbled. “Mary’s coming in at ten, then Jake at one,”

“Need me to pop in?” Lily offered. “I do have classes until twelve, but then I’m free,”

“Nah,” Remus shook his head. “Should be good, if we do get busy though, I’ll call ya in,’

“Cheers,” LIly nodded her head. The two walked out their shared flat and down the stairs of the apartment block. “Have fun today,” Lily commented as they exited the building. The two friends waved goodbye as Lily went to her car, and Remus began his two block walk to work.

He walked down the road, holding on to his over the shoulder bag. Lily is one of his best friends, no, she is his best friend. She knew most of his secrets, kind of like a sister. He thinks, he never had a sister. 

When Remus finally stopped, he looked up with a smile. Lupin’s Lotus’. OF course, he didn’t just sell Lotus’, but it sounded nice. Remus is a florist, with his very own business. Anyone who knew him could not have picked this career path for him. Alas, he was happy as ever in this job.

He unlocked the door, entering his shop and locking the door behind him. He flicked on the lights and took in a deep breath. The smell of all the flowers hit him. His nose was very sensitive, so he could almost pinpoint each flower by its smell, almost. He walked into the back office, going into his own office through that.

His office was plain and simple. A desk in the middle that was long and brown, then a black spinny chair behind that, and a regular chair on the other side. A bookshelf sat in one corner, heavy with books. In the other corner, was a large cabinet. Behind his desk was a large window. 

Remus went over to the window and slid open the blinds, letting light flood into his office. He walked back out into the main office, beginning to make himself a coffee.

In the main office, a large wooden table sat in the middle, surrounded by chairs. On one side there was a small kitchenette, being a microwave, coffee machine, fridge, etc. On the other side a large white board sat on the wall. Pictures were drawn on it, motivational messages and plans. A calendar was next to the door, then a phone and a little table with notepads and pens, an open cupboard next to that. Opposite from the door into the shop, was the door to his office. A door next to the kitchenette led to a small bathroom of a toilet, sink, mirror. On the other side of the kitchenette, was another door that led to a large linen closet of storage.

Remus made his coffee, noting that they need more milk and sugar, and went over to the white board. He looked at it, checking over the messages and notes, all while sipping his coffee. He grabbed a notebook off the table, double checking the counting of inventory. Then he looked at the calendar, seeing when people were off. 

He finished his coffee, rinsing his mug out and putting it in the sink. There were some flowers in the office so he began taking them out into the shop. He started setting up the shop. Putting some hanging plants outside, as well as a bike woven in flowers, and a wolf also woven in flowers. He put the plants inside, all where they should be. Made sure all the price tags were on and correct. Then we went through and gave them a light watering. Some didn’t need much watering, some needed lots. Once he was finished, and it was nearing nine o’clock, he flipped his beautifully floral closed sign around to open. 

He started up the tablet and eftpos machine behind the counter. He checked the cash register, making sure there was enough money in it. Then the out the front notebook, checking to see if any orders were placed today. To receive or to give. Today they were getting a few deliveries. He also turned on the stereo, connecting the tablet to it and started playing David Bowie.

So far, two customers had come in. One came to buy a bouquet of roses for his wife, cliche. The other walked in, started sneezing, and promptly walked back out. It hit ten, and Mary Macdonald walked in. 

Mary is older than Remus, twenty two. She is five foot six. She has platinum blonde hair going down just past her shoulders, and bright blue eyes. Her smile always had some kind of flirtatious flick to it.

“Alright, Remus?” She queried as she clocked in. “Busy morning?”

“So busy,” Remus rolled his eyes. He stood at the counter and listened as he heard her begin to make a tea. “I had two whole customers, sort of.”

“Sort of?” He could hear the humor in her voice.

“Well, one came in and started sneezin’ all over me flowers,” Remus huphed. 

Mary laughed. “Potter come in yet to buy Lilies for Lily?” She walked out of the office, a mug of tea in her hands. 

“Ah, not yet,” Remus shook his head. “She has classes this morning, so I reckon he’ll either come in after twelve, or skip today.”

“Sure hope he skips today, looking into those puppy dog love sick eyes makes me want to vomit,” She fake gages.

“Whatever,” Remus rolled his eyes. “Also, I don’t pay you to drink tea,”

“I drink what I say,” She smirked, taking a large sip of her drink. “And you pay me?”

“I shouldn’t,” He murmmered. “I’ve gotta go buy milk and sugar. Do we need anything else?” 

Mary tapped her chin in thought. “Not that I know of, when are the deliveries?”

“At two, so Jake will be here,” Remus went to grab his keys and a bag. “All good on your own while I duck out?

She sighed dramatically. “Oh, I suppose. I’ll be so lonely.”

“Shame,” Remus said and left.

~~~~~

It was three in the afternoon, and Remus, Mary and Jake had only just finished dealing with the deliveries. 

“Well,” Remus huphed. “I say this calls for a cup of tea?”

“Calls for?” Mary questioned. “Isn’t that usually meant in a situation of congratulations, or something is wrong.”

“Mary,” Jake put a hand on her shoulder. “The man is offering us a cuppa, be grateful.” They all just laughed and went into the office.

Jake Middleton, he is nineteen, so younger than his co-workers. He is just below six foot, with quite a muscular build. He has brown hair that’s shaved down, and hazel eyes. His smile was caring.

Remus went over to the kettle and turned it on, getting their cups ready. THey heard the bell for the front door jingle. Jake got up to deal with the customers, only, he called out,

“It’s Lily and Marlene!”

“I’ll get their tea going!” Remus called back.

Jake entered the room with two girls. Lily, and Marlene.

Marlene Mckinnon, same age as Mary. She stood at 5 foot seven with a toned body. She has dirty blonde hair and light green eyes. Her smile was shy. 

The group of five sat around the table now, drinking tea and eating biscuits.

“Did Potter attack you again today?” Mary asked a mouthful of biscuit, crumbs falling everywhere. “He didn’t come in the shop.”

“No,” Lily shook her head. “He sat next to me in History, and I overhead something..”

“Deets!” Mary and Marlene shouted. They looked at each other than giggled.

Lily rolled her eyes. “He works for his friends in a tattoo parlour, his best friend is the owner of the tattoo parlour,”

“Sexy,” Mary practically drooled. “A tattooed man, I could get tattoo’s for free!”

“Didn’t you say he’s scared of needles?” Jake asked.

Lily hummed. “According to him, deathly afraid. I guess, only if they are near him? Maybe,” She thought. “Oh, but! It’s the parlour across the street.”

A loud, high pitched squeel was heard. Mary was positively bouncing in her chair, face bright red. “Sirius Black’s shop! He’s so hot!”

“Oh boy..” Remus muttered. 

[suicidalcatz]

DOG DAYS ARE OVER : CHAP 8

Pairing : Jake Kiszka x reader

Genre : College AU

Previous parts : Prologue ; Chap 1 ; Chap 2 ; Chap 3 ; Chap 4 ; Chap 5 ; Chap 6 ; Chap 7

Masterlist : Here

AN : Hi guys! I can’t believe I made it this far ! Last chapter did so poorly I’m having a life crisis, I hope you’ll like this one better, it’s the calm before the storm. I’m wondering if I should update more than once a week so I asked the lovely @brightonfleet and I’ll try to post on Wednesdays and Saturdays now, since the chapters are so smol. Thank you for your love and support, feel free to comment and send me messages, see you on Wednesday ! (Also the title isn’t clickbait this is my gift to you).

Chapitre 8 : Is he naked ?

One thing I never knew was that one day I'll be pissed at « Friday I'm In Love » by The Cure. My head felt heavy as I sat on the bed, eyelids still shut tight, budding headache waiting in the corner of my head for the perfect time to screw me over. I could feel the burning sunlight trying to attack my eyes even behind their curtains, bathing the whole room in their warm rays like they owned the place. It smelled like food, and someone hummed along Robert Smith's singing, so Mandy was already awake. Painfully stretching and rubbing my face, I rolled out of bed, carefully taking in the light in the room as I finally opened my eyes, trying not to trip on the covers. Yawning, I dragged myself to the kitchen to greet my roomate.

- Hey.

Mandy turned around when she heard my grunt, spatula in hand. The table was already set, with orange juice, bread and cutlery, which I almost knocked over while putting my elbow on the table.

- Hi dude. No offense but you look like a truck ran you over.

- Fuck you, my head hurts so much already, how come I'm hungover and you're not ?

As a response, she shrugged, looking like she herself didn't know the answer to that. But like the good friend she was, aspirine was alredy on the table next to a glass of water. Oh I remembered now, she probably wanted to apologize for her screw up yesterday night. I couldn't blame her nor get mad at her though. It slipped, it happened. And besides, I think we saved this whole situation by lying terribly and then drink some more. I could vaguely remember Josh holding out shooters for everyone and cook burgers in the middle of the night but other than that... my mind was pitch black.

- Where's Josh by the way ?

Swallowing a whole glass of water woke me up further and despite my stomach's complaining and churning, my appetite awaken too.

- He's sleeping on the couch, came the simple reply.

- What couch ?

Did we owned a couch ? No we didn't.

Turning back once more, my friend pointed something behind me with her spatula, motioning for me to follow the direction. Oh, so we did have a couch after all. And a sleepy curly head snoring on it, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito. Too many questions came to my mind.

- Okay, so since when do we own a couch ? And also Josh slept here ?

- We got out for a walk last night and found a couch so Josh could sleep on it when he wants to crash at ours.

- He plans to do that on a regular basis ?!

She shushed me hurriedly, standing still as Josh turned and moaned in his sleep. His clothes were scattered on the floor around him and on the worned out leather couch that creaked with his every movement. God I hoped no animals were living on it. Getting up, I stole a pancake from the plate next to Mandy, needing energy to register everything that just happened in less than five minutes. So what she's telling me is that we got so drunk we went who-knows-where and got back to the dorm with an abandonned sofa we found on the side of the road ? Just so Josh could sleep at our place. Couldn't he just bring an airmat or a sleeping bag, like a normal person ?

I had to admit my irritation was purely fake. This whole situation was so ridiculous it made me want to laugh more than anything, really. Going to great lenghts only so he could stay the night. Unbelievable, what a princess. It's with an amused grin that I studied his sleeping figure, peaceful and quiet. A rare sight.

- Is he naked ?, I half-murmured to Mandy.

She turned to me, then to Josh, putting her back to the kitchen counter next to me, intently watching him turn in his sleep before the blanket slipped and uncovered his bare ass in all its glory for the world to see.

- Yup, he is.

- Should've guessed.

Nodding to ourselves, we returned to our occupations, and I helped her with breakfast. Our sleepy guest sat with us only a few minutes later, with the covers hiding everything needed this time, devouring pancakes and chatting joyfully about last time and the day to come.

We didn't have school today, which was the main reason why the Christmas Festival was set to this day. And it also explained why students weren't that interested in coming. Even though it was a proven fact that we were all gonna party hard in the dorms after the concerts. Speaking of which, Josh had to perform today but wasn't stressed at all. In fact I never saw someone being this serene about singing onstage to a batch of people. He was talking about how it'll be amazing, and we'll be there, and they'll be rocking the school like it was no big deal at all. It truly amazed me, giving how nervous I was just presenting an assignment to the class. He ate a lot, babbled a lot, and then thanked us for everything and left. Time flew by fast after his departure.

I was too hungover to do anything more than lie in bed all day watching Netflix, let alone do homework. Mandy and I slept some more, and in what seemed like a minute later, had to shower and get dressed for the festival.

Much to my surprise, almost every department had their part to play to the Christmas school fest. The architecture dudes with the help of the carpenters students built cabins and decorated them with christmas lights and lanterns hooked on trees, the Music dept helped set the stage, Furniture Design peeps brought some tables and chairs they had left in the workshop (mostly projects refused by teachers), and Photography students as any other department invited a whole lot of people and bought alcohol for us all to enjoy. It wasn't crowded, but there was a nice amount of visitors nevertheless. A good amount of drugs too, judging by the familiar smell surrounding the school grounds. The stage was surrounded by wood cabins giving or selling beer, food, or cocktails, with stools or benches to sit, which were already taken by the time we got there.

We stood in the cold for hours, close to the heaters and the tiny hot dogs stalls, stuffing our bellies with junkfood in a vain attempt to warm ourselves up. We didn't know where the guys were, nor what their band was called. None of the twins were replying to their phones, so we were left with no clue as to when they were gonna play or if we could skip half of it and come back just for them.

- Can't believe the flyer said « free beer », grumbled Mandy while rubbing her arms.

- Yeah about that, I'm the one who asked for it to get removed, sorry.

Her hair whipped my face as she abruptly turned around to face me with a look of pure betrayal on her face.

- What ? Look at all the efforts they put on the festival, it's only fair they at least get some money out of it.

A lot of people brought their own booze to the party so they didn't have to spend a cent here anyway, we just didn't know enough folks to borrow from them.

- Screw that, she exclaimed before heading to one of the stalls.

Where was she going ? Should I follow ? What kind of crazy plan had she in mind ?

I saw her body leaning on the counter of a drinks stall where the barman looked overwhelmed by all those people calling him around, playing idly with a strand of hair while pretending to read the laminated menu just has her free hand got under the wood panel, fingertips caressing the handle of a huge beer keg. There was no way in Hell nobody would notice her stealing something so big, she couldn't get away with it. By the time I was facepalming while pretending I didn't witness anything at all, she came rushing to me with the keg in her hand and grabbed my arm, hurrying me to follow as we sank through the park.

- I can't believe you stole it, how the fuck are we supposed to drink a KEG ? Do you even know how to open it ?

She paused, letting the big barrel of beer clunk to the hard floor.

- I was kinda counting on you on this one, she said with a perplex tone. We'll find someone who can, don't worry.

I wasn't really worrying about that to be honest but oh well, now that we had it, might as well open it.

It turned out finding someone who could help us was more easier than I first thought, and since a lot of people had the idea of bringing their own keg along, nobody seemed to think it was weird we were carrying one. Now I wasn't a big fan of curing a hangover with more alcohol, but I got to admit it was a special night. And seeing everybody party without participating would've been a shame. That's what I told myself when I poured us another drink.

It was starting to get really chilly outside, so we stayed by the heater, taking turns to sit on the keg when our feet got too tired of standing still, listening to the bands playing, watching the christmas lights illuminate the trees and people sitting under them.

- Who's next ?, asked Mandy for the fourth time that evening.

Struggling once more to get the crumpled flyer out of my jacket pocket, I squinted my eyes, trying to read what band was next in the darkness of the night.

- Greta Van Fleet, I guess. Don't know her.

- Me neither.

Oh how wrong we were. I think my heart leaped in my chest when I saw Jake's figure enter the illuminated stage, followed by Josh, his tambourine, and their two bandmates. The lump in my throat came back, and as the first guitar notes were played it became impossible for me to either keep my mouth shut nor to take my eyes off of Jake. He looked so good. They all did, jamming and playing loud, smiling and having fun, but Jake. He was something else. He looked unreal. His unbutonned black patterned shirt revealed his chest and all the pendants that hung around his neck, bouncing to the rythmn of his body, while his hand recklessly attacked his guitar' strings. His face, so concentrated, like nothing in the world in that moment existed, a single drop of sweat running on his cheek, hair plastered to his forehead, some strands of it getting stuck at the corner of his gaping lips. That night he took my breath away.

- They're so good, muttered Mandy, taken aback too.

I could only nod, at a loss for words, barely having the capacity to register all the informations that were presented to me because it would mean I could miss a second of Jake playing. They all were simply incredible. You could tell they were putting their soul in their music, and it moved me in a strange way, changed me somehow, even a little. That drum solo was the most powerful I had ever witness, the skilled bassist made an amazing job of keeping everything together, and Josh's vocals would put to shame every damn diva on this earth. I think I died a bit when I saw Jake lift his guitar to put it behind his back and play his solo like that. Or if I didn't, I fell even harder for him. There was no turning back from the depths I was now. When Greta Van Fleet started performing at our school, I saw all the people surrounding us stop their activities to pay attention to them. That's how powerful they were.

Josh was in a bliss, we could tell by the spark in his eyes. He played the tambourine during solos, hopping on the stage like he was born on it, giving the crowd smiles and winks, and even blowing us a kiss. We waved at him, but my gaze kept finding its way to Jake like he was calling it back home. He was too busy to focus on anything else, drowning in his music, delighted by the sounds they were producing, barely realizing there were people cheering for them. He looked up from time to time glancing at his surroundings, and during one of them our eyes met. My heart skipped a beat, and he smiled, a pick stuck between his lips, eyes squinted with glee.

By the time they finished their set, my legs were shaking as if I was the one who just performed, but they didn't let us any time to catch our breath. A sweaty and barely dressed Josh jumped out of the stage to come rushing to us, holding us both in a tight embrace and giggling in our ears. He was talking excitedly about the show, how exhilirating it was, and bombarding us with questions about it and what we had thought of it. In the corner of my eye, standing on the stage, Jake was quietly picking up his stuff, putting his guitar back into its case with great care, chatting excitedly with the drummer. Oh fuck I wasn't mentally prepared.

- Are you kidding me ?, yelled Mandy who was holding Josh at arms' lenght. You guys killed it ! We absolutely loved it, you were the best !

- She's right, I chimed in, adrenaline kicking in. Why are you even in this school ?! Damn I wish I had recorded you, I kind of want to hear your songs again now.

Chuckling kindheartedly and hugging us some more, Josh thanked us a million times before settling down with us, helping himself to a beer he chugged before asking for another one. Still feeling starry eyed, I couldn't help focusing on the sweaty guitarist next to the stage, deeply lost in thought between his two bandmates having a conversation. Some people must've bought them drinks real fast because they were carrying red cups, still in their stage clothes with a coat put on top of it. Josh on the other hand... I couldn't look at his bare chest without scolding.

- You're going to catch a cold.

As much as his red velvet sleeveless jacket looked good, seeing his moist skin glimmering got me worried. We were in December, it was like -4 degrees outside, a few more minutes like that and he'll end up like the little match girl.

- Mama I'm too hot to catch a cold, came the reply with a smirk and a wink.

- Oh my Lord go put a coat on I swear to God Josh-

- Okay, I will ! But more importantly !, he said loud and clear while putting each arm around our shoulders. Tonight, my place, we're throwing an after party ! Ladies, please be my guests.

As backup to his words, Josh made grand gestures and a deep bow, taking our hands in his while I shook my head with a look of disbelief on my face.

- Only if you put on a coat.

[sweetsmellosuccess]

The Best (and Worst) Films of 2019

In many ways, 2019 served as a crucible, and no more so, at least cinematically, than with the venerable superhero flick. After a deluge of big studio films on the subject of capes and spandex (the MCU includes 22 films since the 2008 release of Iron Man; the nascent DCU, running it fits and starts has seven), we saw the explosive close-out of the previous “phases” with Marvel’s Avengers: Endgame; as well as the rise of pseudo art-house comic book film, Joker, in the same bloody year.

The talk on Film Twitter  —  the living definition of ‘tempest in a teacup’ —  was all about those films, and Martin Scorsese’s now legendary take down of the genre by referring to the super hero films, collectively, as  “theme parks.” But in truth, there were many, many other films that came out during the year, some of them utterly brilliant, some of them ridiculously awful. Here are my picks for both, with some of what I wrote about them at the time in my review.

10. Avengers: Endgame

“There are so many small but noteworthy details -- opening the film with Traffic's "Dear Mr. Fantasy"; the name drops, and special shout-outs to comics' fans; the small character beats that allow each protagonist more than just a quip or two; the closing credits, which give singular notice to the stars who have been there from the beginning, and wisely do not use the signature Marvel trick of teasing out the next film, which gives the series, at last, a sense of real closure, if only temporary -- the film feels as if it has been created and calibrated with the utmost care. For a film destined to break the bank no matter how shoddy they might have made it, Marvel has poured enough genuine soul into it to earn its inevitable bounty.”

Full Review

9. Her Smell

“In some ways, the film takes on a sort of Raging Bull aspect, Martin Scorsese's classic film about a boxer's rise and fall, only to turn the ending on its head. In Scorsese's picture, we see Jake LaMotta, now fat and retired, attempt to break into showbiz as a comedian, the scenes draped in cutting sardonicism. Perry gives Becky a much less punishingly ironic turn, but instead a hero's journey, venturing away from the abyss into something a good deal less grandiose and realized.”

Full Review

8. The Last Black Man in San Francisco

“It's also a film about the versions of the stories whose ideas lend depth and valor to our otherwise nondescript lives, the things we hope make us the heroes of our own narratives. In this way, Jimmie's story is conflated with that of the city itself, and the palpable sense of loss he feels about his family's house is mirrored in the city's own loss of identity.”

Full Review

7. Under the Silver Lake

“Mitchell fairly stuffs the film with portents, symbols, and runes, some real, some imagined. Squirrels mysteriously fall dead at Sam's feet, a parrot in his courtyard keeps calling out something he can't decipher, a dog killer stalks the neighborhood, and graffiti strewn about the area calls out to him. Films are always encoded with symbolic meaning, utilizing visual language to instill emotion and establish significance for the audience (think of Spielberg's girl with the red coat in Schindler's List, or James Dean's red windbreaker in Rebel Without a Cause), Mitchell's film gives us so many options, almost everything can be read symbolically, which perfectly captures the paranoia his character feels, and the pointlessness of trying to make sense of it at all.”

Full Review

6. Marriage Story

“Noah Baumbach’s latest film, about the dissolution of married couple – played extraordinarily well by Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson – will no doubt get comparisons made to Bergman’s brilliant Scenes From a Marriage. But whereas that 1972 film concerned the relationship itself, its highs and lows and metamorphoses, Baumbach’s film is much more about the logistics, legal and otherwise, of ending a very much shared life together.”

Capsule Review

5. Midsommar

“Viewing Aster's films is a bit like walking into an art installation -- quite literally, as he populates his frame with stunning compositions and art-focused mise en scene, as with the beautifully designed wooden structures of the compound, or the exquisite murals and art displayed on the building's walls (a huge shout-out to his production designer, Henrik Svensson, and the art directing crew) -- but, as with Hereditary, behind all the sumptuous, hand-crafted beauty, there is a cruel, brutal core of humanity's continued savagery. If art represents the best sort of impulses of humankind, in Aster's hands, it becomes yet another facade, hiding -- or in this case, exemplifying -- our instinct for vicious barbarity.”

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4. Parasite

“By the end, as it swerves inexorably into blood-soaked violence, the film reveals to be a bit of a con itself, drawing us in with its enticing humor, then opening up into a much darker vision, before ending on an emotional note of surprising vulnerability. Through it all, Bong shows a mastery of odd tones, from the opening comedic salvo, to the final emotional beats.”

Capsule Review

3. Uncut Gems

“It’s one of those pressure-cooker films, where the steam builds more and more intense as Howard gets in and out of trouble through his ability to constantly shift the playing board. There’s a scene about midway through, with various aggrieved characters coalescing at once in his office, as he’s trying to have a speaker phone conversation with his doctor, that’s so stressful, you will want to avert your eyes and remind yourself of the exit signs.”

Capsule Review

2. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

“It's also an unexpected joy to watch the nonchalant swagger of Pitt match up with DiCaprio's more high-strung ministrations. Two of the biggest film stars alive playing mostly washed up TV actors may stack the irony, but both of them settle in so well into their characters, you can't help but admire the result. Rick is a dude whose ego has gone from tumescent to shriveled -- he parks his car miserably in front of one of his own old movie posters -- but beneath all his hubris and despair, he actually has a lot of talent. As always, it's pure joy to watch Pitt smoke up a screen, a middle-aged Redford speaking every line with a sinfully breezy smile, whose confidence extends around him like the golden hue of his deep suntan.”

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1. Knives Out

“More than the plot itself, an ingenious and kinetic thing that's as satisfying as a hot bowl of soup on a raw and windy day, there's the sense of joyous chaos from the cast. Those scenes where the family is all together, in the drawing room and continually at each other's throats are so delicious, they should come with a napkin. The interplay between vets like Shannon, Johnson, Curtis and Collette is filled with fractious energy, the characters revisiting age-old disagreements ("Your kid's a brat!" -- "Your kid is a Nazi!") with sadistic glee. Even when they band together, in moments, against what they believe to be a common enemy, it's clear the harmony between them is more Iggy and the Stooges than Beach Boys. In short, Johnson has devised a perfect ensemble of dreadful characters and set them all against one another in a narrative fishbowl filled with lye.”

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Other Worthy Mentions:

Amazing Grace, American Factory, Apollo 11, Bacurau, Birds of Passage, Charlie Says, Cold Case Hammarskjöld, Dark Suns, Dark Waters, Ford v Ferrari, Greener Grass, In Fabric, John Wick 3, Jojo Rabbit, Luce, Midnight Traveler, Ms. Purple, Pain and Glory, Rewind, Something Else, Terminator: Dark Fate, The Farewell, The Hole in the Ground, The Irishman, The Lighthouse, The Nightingale, The Report, The Souvenir, The Vast of Night, This is Not Berlin, Us, Varda by Agnes, Vitalina Varella

Best Upcoming Releases of 2019

The Personal History of David Copperfield

The Burnt Orange Heresy

Bad Education

First Cow

The Worst Films of 2019

5. Greta

“In short, Jordan turns Greta into a Michael Myers-esque boogeyman, everywhere and no place at once, almost a phantom, but for her high heels and French condemnation. In this way, the filmmaker loses his grip on his material.”

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4. Ma

“Apart from a truly absurd script, director Tate Taylor's film performs ungainly political gyrations -- asking us to root against a survivor of sexual abuse and humiliation for trying to gain (albeit misplaced) revenge on her attacker. Sort of a rape-revenge thriller set upside down, such that nothing makes any ethical (or emotional) sense. It quickly becomes an awkward mishmash of impulses, wanting to provide cheap scares while fostering a deeply schizoid sense of sympathy, while managing to fail mightily at both.”

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3. The Dead Don’t Die

“Jarmusch's proclivities have always leaned toward such lightly affecting material -- as if the act of actually generating emotion is somehow vulgar and unseemly -- which has also endeared him to his faction of fans. For everyone else, though, it doesn't leave much to look at. Filmed without fanfare (albeit with a few more special effects than usual, and a kind of cool splattering of sand-like mist when the zombies are beheaded), and with the intensity knobs all turned down to their lowest setting, he continues his sous vide-style of filmmaking. Whether you like the dish he's serving, or want to throw your hands in the air and go somewhere else for dinner is all in your temperament. Whatever you choose, you can be certain the same menu will be available the next time you venture back.”

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2. Dark Phoenix

“The clearest loss, however, is with the story itself -- its legacy struck deep in Marvel lore -- once again being studio nitpicked, and focus-grouped to within an inch of its life. If Endgame audaciously proved a superhero movie could rise toward an emotionally satisfying arc, this failed attempt proves the opposite is also true: Chronic incoherence, even if spread out among a multitude of titles over 20 years, just feels like a soulless money grab. Adding to the sense of this film's slapdashery, the trailer features lines and moments unused in the actual cut, which is never a good sign.”

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1. Lucy in the Sky

“The film is meandering and pretty much pointless, a major flaw that Hawley himself indicated in his introduction (“we work as hard on the bad ones as we do the good ones,” he told the audience in an example of supreme foreshadowing. Portman does her best, but the film sputters pretty hard, and is never able to justify itself.”

Capsule Review

Other Dishonorable Entries:

The Aftermath, The Curse of La Llorona, Gemini Man, Glass, Hellboy, Joker

Inexplicably Overrated: Joker, The Dead Don’t Die

Biggest Welcome Surprise(s): Ford v Ferrari, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

Most Bitter Disappointment(s): The Lodge, Wounds

Film That Critics Got Wrong: Waves

Best Film I Saw Last Year, Period: Scenes From a Marriage