#love this goober and her big ass ears

[beef-unknwn]

When the Jina is fire and long

[error-raccoon-404]

"He's British?!"

Hobie x Greek!Reader (does this count as x reader?)

Word Count: 1268

Summary: Pavitr's been hounding Y/n to meet his friends, especially Hobie. After weeks of Pavitr’s excitement, Y/n finally agrees, only to find herself skeptical. However Pav seems to have left out a crucial detail

“Come on! Hurry up slowpoke!” 

“Dude calm down, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Pavitr gaped at his friend. “Wh- huh? Yes it is!” he exclaimed. “I finally get to introduce you to my other spider-friends!” 

Y/n chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Spider-friends. Cool and all, but you don’t have to act like it’s a Marvel movie premiere or something.”

Pavitr groaned dramatically, throwing his hands in the air as they swung between buildings. “Are you kidding me, N/n? This is a big deal! You’re getting to see Miles, and Gwen again, and meet Hobie! It’s like... the Spider-Society family reunion!”

“Family reunion where half the relatives can shoot webs and punch holes in reality?” Y/n quipped, smirking.

“Yes! And trust me, Hobie is going to love you,” Pavitr said, his voice tinged with excitement. “He’s all about rebellion and sticking it to The Man. You, my friend, are basically Spider-Rebel. Plus Miles already likes you, so that gives you an advantage.”

Y/n gave Pavitr a side-eye as they landed on a rooftop, her sneakers skidding slightly against the gravel. “Wait, should I be worried? I feel like I need a warning label for this guy, based on the stories you’ve told me.”

Pavitr grinned mischievously, hopping onto the edge of the roof and leaning forward dramatically. “Just... brace yourself. There Hobie’s a lot. But don’t worry, you’ll get used to him. Eventually.”

Y/n sighed, shaking her head but couldn’t help the grin forming on her face. “Alright, alright.. Lead the way, Spider-Man Tour Guide.”

Pavitr lit up, his energy bounding as he launched forward, his voice echoing through the city. He used his goober to open a portal. “HQ, here we come! 

Y/n muttered under her breath as she followed, “This is either going to be amazing or a complete disaster…” She sighed then piped up louder. “But I still reserve the right to whoop ass if he’s an asshole!” She shouted ahead to Pavtir. 

“Don’t worry you won’t have to! Now Come on!” He shouted as he flew through the portal. 

Y/n stepped through the portal after Pavitr, landing with a graceful thud on the familiar polished floors of Spider-Society HQ. She immediately rolled her eyes as she took in the chaotic scene.

“Back at HQ,” she muttered, hands on her hips. “The place where Spider-People outnumber sense.”

“Come on, you love it here,” Pavitr said, nudging her shoulder.

“Sure,” Y/n replied, smirking. “Love it so much I want to build a Parthenon in the middle of it. Offer sacrifices to Miguel while he scowls at me.”

Pavitr laughed as they weaved through the crowd. “Well, today’s different! You’re finally meeting Hobie.”

Y/n snorted. “You’ve been hyping him up so much he better not disappoint.”

Pavitr grinned mischievously. “Oh, Hobie’s... something. But I have a feeling you’ll get along. Or fight. Maybe both.”

As they approached the central console, Y/n immediately spotted Gwen, Miles, and Hobie. She gave a quick wave to Gwen, whom she’d known briefly on previous visits, and dapped up Miles. “Yo, anomaly No. 2!” Miles said laughing. 

“Don’t pull that, we know out of the two of us, I’m the original.” Y’n laughed

“Guys!” Pavitr said, bounding ahead. “Here she is! The infamous Y/n I’ve been talking about!”

“Infamous, huh?” Y/n said, crossing her arms as she looked at the group. “What kind of stories are you telling people, Pav?”

“Only the best ones!” Pavitr said, grinning ear to ear. “Anyway, Gwen, Miles, you’ve met her. But Hobie—this is Y/n! Y/n this is Hobie!” 

Pavitr rapidly gestured between you too while smiling like an idiot. 

Hobie stepped forward, towering slightly over her. His punk rock vibe was impossible to miss—spiked jacket, guitar slung over his back, and a smirk that radiated trouble.

“So, you’re the Greek one Pav’s been goin’ on about,” Hobie said, his tone lazy and amused. “Must be somethin’ special, yeah?” 

Y/n froze for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. She leaned toward Pavitr and grabbed his arm, pulling him aside. “Pavitr. A word.”

Pavitr blinked, confused but obediently followed her to the side. “Uh... sure? What’s up?”

Y/n gestured vaguely in Hobie’s direction, keeping her voice low but her tone urgent. “You didn’t tell me he was British.”

Pavitr tilted his head, looking genuinely baffled. “So?”

“So?!” Y/n hissed, throwing her hands in the air. “That’s, like, a huge deal breaker! You should’ve led with that!”

Pavitr stared at her, fighting a laugh. “What? Why? Hobie’s great! He’s one of the coolest Spider-People I know!”

Y/n crossed her arms, scowling. “He’s British, Pav. British. You know how I feel about that.”

“Wait, is this because you’re Greek?” Pavitr asked, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Y/n gave him an incredulous look. “Oh, now you get it? Do you know how much crap the British have taken from my country? It’s like their national pastime.”

Pavitr snorted, unable to keep his laughter in check. “Okay, okay, but Hobie’s not like that! He’s anti-establishment, hates authority, very punk rock—”

“Doesn’t change the fact that he’s British,” Y/n interrupted, her tone teasing but firm. “He’s probably genetically predisposed to stealing stuff that doesn’t belong to him.”

Suddenly Gwen piped up from the corner. “He absolutely is!” She shouted. Y/n looked at pav, then to Gwen, then back to Pav again while wildly gesturing her hands. 

“Haha, don’t listen to her,” Pav shot a passive-aggressive glance at Gwen, who just smirked back. “Come on, give him a chance!” Pavitr pleaded, laughing. “You might actually like him. I mean, after you get over the whole ‘British’ thing.”

“Doubtful,” Y/n muttered, but a small smirk played on her lips as she turned back toward Hobie.

“Oi! I can hear you both, you know!” Hobie called out, amused.

Y/n gave Pavitr a quick, deadpan look. “I swear this is a curse. I can’t even look at him without hearing the word ‘bollocks.’”

Pavitr snickered, but Y/n wasn’t done.

“I know you can hear me, I’ve been saying shit with my chest this long why stop now.” she sighed dramatically, turning back to Hobie with a teasing grin. “ But let’s be real here. The real reason we’ll never get along is simple.”

Hobie raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And what’s that then?”

Y/n crossed her arms with a smug smirk. “Simply put... I can name at least 100 things that your people took from my country that didn’t belong to them.”

Hobie blinked, clearly taken aback for a moment before cracking a grin. “Ah, so we’re going there, are we?”

“Absolutely,” Y/n said, leaning in slightly. “From the Parthenon sculptures to, well, let’s just say I could make an entire list of things your empire thought were fair game for the taking.”

Hobie let out a laugh, clearly impressed by her attitude. “Fair play, love. But if you’re gonna hold that grudge forever, we’re in for a long ride.”

Y/n shrugged, still smiling. “It’s not a grudge, mate. It’s a historical fact that I happen to find it highly amusing, considering the company I’m in.”

“Historical fact, eh?” Hobie said, grinning wider now. “Guess I’ll have to step up my game then.”

Pavitr groaned, running a hand down his face. “Oh no. This is either going to be the best friendship ever or an international incident waiting to happen.”

“Why not both?” Y/n quipped, her smirk returning as she turned back to the group.

[jessiemeows]

Kinky NSFW Alphabet:

Thank you for the tag @bananasfosterparent!!!!!

No pressure tag: @queerdrow, @preciouslittle-bhaalbabe, @ anyone who wants to do it lolol sorry if i tagged you & you already did it ://

This took me longer to do than I thought lol

Amaya & Astarion

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Amaya is a huge cuddler after sex and likes to play with Astarion’s curls giving his soft little kisses on his forehead. Before the tadpole she was basically a siren and would use sex to then sacrifice her partners for Bhaal but because of this it doesn't mean she never had a partner before! She had one partner who tried to help her escape Bhaal and then of course there was Gortash lol. Astarion on the other hand I believe was shocked when she first began to cuddle with him on the first night they slept together but eventually, he ended up loving it and now demands for cuddles afterwards lol.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Hmmmmmmmmmm, Amaya loves every bit of Astarion but if she had to pick one specific part it would either be his ears or his hands. Sometimes she gets cute aggression and just wants to chomp on his pointy little ears. She loves his hands because of how strong they are and also what he can do with them.

I believe Astarion is probably the same way loves every bit of her but if he had to pick he’s torn between her freckles, her ass or her tail. He thinks she's SOOO cute with the amount of freckles she has and loves how from the time off the nautiloid to post game they have darkened so much. Her tail because he can see how she really feels throughout her tail, when she's angry it starts to whip around a little bit or when shes scared her tail wraps around her legs. And her ass bc well he is an ass man lol.

C = Cum (Where does your muse prefer to cum/have someone cum?)

They both prefer when Astarion cums inside Amaya. Those two end up having 5 kids after game events lmao so my guy doesn't have good pull out game.

D = Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory: a dirty secret of theirs)

I actually don’t think they have any :3 Maybe that they kept their relationship a secret for a while mainly because Amaya knew Gale was into her but didn’t want to hurt his feelings (didn't want him to blow up lol). When he found out about the relationship a lot of shit happened where Astarion and Gale did not like each other for a bit :/ They do end up being very good friends though after the rough patch.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

I think they have similar backgrounds, they both brought victims to Bhaal or Cazador. In Amaya’s case she's a little different than Astarion, she barely remembers what happened but still experiences dissociation when something happens like if someone starts to hit on her or tries something then her brain just stops working. 

F = Favorite position (This goes without saying)

Missionary or cowgirl style. Astarion prefers missionary with his head buried into her neck or even reverse cowgirl the first few times so he could avoid having her see him not fully be there but after the first 2 times he realizes he enjoys it thoroughly with only her and that's when he LOOOOOVES staring into her eyes as they both fall apart within one another.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Depends on the day lol they have very serious “I’m so in love with you, no one else is for me but you” like after the battle with Orin and Amaya died kind of day, or having makeup sex after Astarion and Amaya had an argument (they love each other deeply but those two butt heads a lot especially how Amaya puts everyone but herself first lol) orrrrrr they are just being big goobers and one makes a joke during it and they both end up laughing hard.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

They are both groomed well.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Most of the time it's giggly and fun, like I said previously it really depends on the day but I like to think it's mainly laughs but pure sweetness and lovey-dovey.

J = Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

They deffffff touched themselves whenever they thought about one another in early game. They had a slow start to their relationship and would kiss a lot before the tiefling party. I think after a steamy makeout sesh they would go their own tents and masturbate on their own. 

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

dom/sub kink, Amaya loves being submissive to Astarion and will obey every command he gives her in bed and Astarion loves having the power to do so.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

In game they prefer to do it in their shared tent (Amaya’s tent basically becomes his tent after the tiefling party). I don’t think either of them is keen on doing it again on the forest ground LMAO. It certainly wouldn't stop them though, they had quickies in the Underdark, and mountain pass. After game, it would probably be their shared bed or any room in their mansion. (Astarion used his magistrate degree to get a good deal on a mansion just outside the upper city :3)

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going?)

Hmmm, for Astarion probably anything Amaya does he thinks is attractive. When she gives into her little bhaalspawn self is probably when he gets the most motivated. That's when she intimidates people lol, shes very funny when she intimidates people too. When she told a dwarf that they were going to fly out of the tower if they said another word to her when they were going to fight Cazador was probably when he realized how turned on he gets when she's finally being mean to others LOL. 

Amaya gets motivated when Astarion is being genuine with her. Soft little moments when they are spending time with one another like if he’s reading to her in their shared tent and is making silly voices to go along with the story is when she gets the most turned on by him. It's because he can be himself around her without putting on a show.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

They are monogamous so they would never ever share with someone else. I headcannon Astarion being very jealous so if they were to share then that would send Astarion into a frenzy. Amaya of course is also jealous whenever someone tries to hit on Astarion but it's not like when Astarion gets jealous. There had been quite a few fights between the two regarding this but it was mainly because Astarion didn’t know how to process jealousy because well he never experienced it until he met Amaya. He HATED when every party member tried to hit on Amaya, the man was literally seething lol. It's why he does not get along with Halsin at all because everyone else backed off when they made their relationship somewhat official in Act 2 and the man still tried it with Amaya.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Both love receiving and giving, Astarion prefers to give more and tease Amaya a lot.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Again, it depends on the day. Its usually slow and sensual in the beginning but then becomes fast and rough towards the end.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

They enjoy them! They had a lot of quickies early game and resumed the quickies after Cazador died. Like Lae’zel said the two can’t keep their hands off one another.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Hmmmmmm, I don’t think so. They like to keep it simple and to be sure neither one of them gets overwhelmed if they were to take risks.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Astarion can go for a long time, Amaya can too but probably after the 3 round is when they call quits. Mainly to be sure neither one of their heads go to a bad place. The two beans have a lot of trauma :(

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

In the game no they do not, but doesn’t mean they aren’t open to getting any after game!

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Astarion is the king of teasing Amaya, but thats fine becauase Amaya gets back at him most of the time hehe.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Astarion knows how to make Amaya scream his name. Astarion on the other hand I think is fairly quiet, but will moan and groan when he can no longer hold it in.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Ahhhh my fave headcanon is they both gain a little weight throughout the game and also post-game :)))))

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Amaya, despite being very thin in act 1 and 2 is still very curvy and when she gains weight it really accentuates her curves. Astarion, we know what he looks like lol but by act 3 and post game he has gained some weight and you could probably tell. His figure is fuller and his cheeks are a little chubby lol. I always headcanon that Cazador gets very mad when he realizes that Astarion had been finally feeding.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty high but also not?? Idk if that makes sense like they both crave one another all the time but they could probably go months without having sex especially if either one of them needs time to heal.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Amaya falls asleep cuddling him usually. Astarion usually trances for a bit but mainly he is holding her and probably watching her snooze away. Amaya before durge events in act 3 had really bad nightmares and would sometimes try to kill in her sleep. Astarion likes to keep watch over her so she doesn't 1 try to kill him lol and 2 make sure she doesn't hurt herself. Unfortunately, this has caused her to accidentally stab him in the arm a few times or he had to manhandle her to stop sleepwalking or shake her awake if he can tell she's having a really bad dream which happened more often than it should. 

After game events of course she still gets night terrors but she no longer sleep kills but I think out of habit Astarion will always watch over her. He was always protective of the little murder baby.

[litlunacy]

I forced myself not to touch the CC again until I finished Nym's run (tweaking her eyeliner 50 times doesn't count :P), but now that the first run's over I just keep making new Rooks. Anyway, my two new babes:

Leo Mercar

Transmasc Rogue Shadow Dragon. Found wandering half-starved as a child after his Liberati mother died. Adorable silly bean, big expressive wiggly elf ears, saddest puppy-eyed con artist. Romancing Neve. (Been trying to figure out a Rook to romance her with for a while now and he popped into my head fully formed over the weekend like a fever dream. Baby. I love his face.)

Annika Thorne

Pint-sized can of dwarven whoop-ass warrior. Bouncy goober who refuses to be a doom-and-gloom Warden stereotype. Kids called her Squint when she was little, until she walloped them into next Tuesday. Romancing Davrin. Absolutely bonding with one of the other griffons, I need them flying off into the sunset together once the featherbabies are grown.

Seriously tho, her height slider is at the absolute bottom, she's shorter than Varric and Harding! Perfect height for breaking kneecaps :)

[adelineraineswrites]

Steve Harrington Headcanons

Personality (ish) Stuff

Bi

Autistic (very very particular with how he does his hair, his car, his room, etc.)

ESFP

Marigold/mustard yellow

The pierced friend to Eddie's tats. It starts with getting his ears pierced, then cartilage, brow, nose, maybe a belly button one on a dare, but he finds he likes it, so he keeps it.

He and Tommy definitely had a thing when Steve was still a douchebag. Can see him maybe having a thing with Billy, too, when he's deep in his wallowing and self-deprecation, and he doesn't think he deserves better/deserves what he got from Billy.

Very much a hands on/kinesthetic learner.

Has vision problems, audio processing issues, and migraines on occasion from the head trauma.

Christmas Mom TM

Has a savings account that he regularly puts money into. His parents inconsistently cut him off that at some point, if they do give him any money, he puts it into savings. Also contributes when he starts working more regularly.

Platonically and romantically, loves being called: princess, baby girl, pretty boy/girl, honey, sweetie.

Keeps his nail bat in his car, usually wrapped in a towel to make sure no small injuries are sustained by accident. If his PTSD or anxiety are super high, he'll have it by his side nearly all the time.

Likes booty shorts; also got into tennis skirts and other pleated skirts by proxy. Likes how they twirl.

Has an aversion to stuff high on his neck. Just below or loose popped collars are fine, but doesn't like necklaces or turtlenecks.

Definitely got into Marvel Comics at some point and found himself relating to Iron Man. Something about being a spoiled rich kid with distant parents, has taken tumbles in his own life, has had to prove time and again that he's capable and changed, and cares for the family he's found.

Favors dogs. But would also give a cat love and attention, and even take in a stray or two.

Always runs hot.

With the Others

Gossips with Robin like they're moms in a wine club

Pretty much canon, but would beat someone's ass up for those he loves. But I'm more so talking in the you just say 'kick their ass' and he'll do it, no questions asked.

The only people he trusts to touch his hair are: Eddie, Nancy (after she gets the perm), Lucas, and Erica, because they at least have some semblance or understanding of haircare and styling.

Learned how to style and braid afro/super curly hair for Erica, Lucas, and Eddie so they could have someone help them when needed.

Gives great piggy back rides.

Kinky

100% has a big dick

Can be dominant in bed, in the sense that he is fully capable of lifting and carrying people with relative ease.

Breeding Kink; admittedly this is going off what was mentioned to Nancy, but it's not specific to her or even specific to any gender. There is something there about wanting to be a father (especially a better one than his own dad), and loving the goobers he already takes care of, but there's something about the riskiness of it, too. As much as he loves the goobers, he'd like one or two kids of his own, too.

Okay with daddy being used on him, but only really in the instances of the breeding kink. Otherwise, he is babygirl 88% of the time.

Can eat pussy within an inch of his life, but definitely did lots of research and practice to get there.

Gets pegged, preferably by women. It's about power (think Markiplier with Lady Dimitrescu)

[flamencodiva]

Just a Regular Day

Description: Dean has something he wasn’t to talk to his friend Y/N about. 

Pairing: High School Senior!Dean Winchester x High School Senior!Female!Reader 

Warnings: Fluff, talks about doing sexy stuff, Both Dean and reader are 18!  

Beta: @superfanficnatural​

Word Count: 1700 

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Dean Winchester had been Y/N Y/L/N’s best friend for a long time. High school was the best time for both of them. He was on the wrestling team, and she was at the top of the academic class. No matter the social status, they had remained best friends. It did also help that Y/N took no bullshit from anyone.

Dean had arrived home with a brown paper bag. He rushed up the stairs and to his room, laying on his belly and reaching under the bed for an old Thundercats lunchbox.  He popped it open and placed the bag inside. 

“Hey, Dean!” a voice called from behind him.  

Dean glanced quickly over his shoulder and rolled his eyes when he spotted his younger brother, Sam. “Damn it Sammy, what? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Sam let out a small chuckle, “Mom wants to know what you want for dinner?” the younger Winchester made his way deeper into Dean’s room. “And what are you doing?” 

“None of your business, shrimp,” he said as he pushed Sam away from his bed. “You can tell Mom that anything is fine with me as long as there’s pie for dessert.” Dean got up and forgot to put the lunchbox back under his bed. 

When Dean tried to push Sam out of the room, Sam took the opportunity to dodge his brother and grab the lunchbox. He was about to pull the bag Dean had put inside when Dean snatched it from him. 

“Get out of my room, now,” he growled at his younger brother.  

“What’s in the Bag?” Sam asked as he tried to reach for the lunch box.  “And why are you hiding it?” 

“It’s none of your beeswax!” Dean spat as he tried to wrestle Sam away. 

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll tell Mom about the party you’re planning for when Dad takes her on that week cruise,” Sam said, glaring at his brother. 

“Fine,” Dean hissed, “fine. If you really want to know, it’s a present for Y/N.” He locked up the lunchbox and put it under the bed before ushering Sam out of his room.  

“Then why can’t I see it?” Sam huffed. 

“Because it is none of your business, now go do your homework or something,” Dean nudged Sam towards his room and sighed when Sam turned around to try and ask more questions.  “Or I tell Jess that you love her.” 

Sam gave his brother his bitchiest face before making his way back to his room. Dean sighed as he locked his room and made his way towards the stairs. He hoped that Sam wouldn’t be desperate enough to pick his lock and take a peek at what he had bought Y/N. He wanted Y/N to show it off and for everyone to be surprised. After all, this was something he had thought about for a long time. Even though they had only just started dating, Dean couldn’t see himself with anyone else.  

“Hey Mom?” Dean called as he reached the bottom of the stairs.  

“Yes Dean,” his mother yelled from the kitchen. 

“Can Y/N come over for dinner?” he asked hesitantly.  

Mary Winchester turned to her son, wiping her hands with the dish towel, “Sure honey, is everything ok with you two?” she walked up to him and smiled.  

Dean rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “Yeah it’s fine--” he swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat, “we just… you see… I asked her to be my girlfriend and she said yes and --” 

“OH! Dean!” Mary hugged Dean tightly before Dean could finish what he was saying. “I am so happy you finally decided to tell her! Your father and I wondered if you would need any help and honestly you two have been best friends for such a long time! I am just so excited!” 

“Mom,” he cried, “Mom… can’t breathe!” he tapped her shoulder. 

“Oh, sorry hun…. Oh… did you get her something special?”

“Umm, you could call it that…” he blushed. 

Mary patted his cheek and went back to preparing Winchester Surprise. It was about the only thing, besides baking pie, that she could make. Dean took notice that his Mother had prepared his favorite pie filling and she had left it right on the counter. He smiled devilishly; he loved pie. Dean was about to take a small bit of the filling when Mary smacked his hand with the spoon. 

“I don’t think so,” she said smiling at her son, “go wash up, your father should be home soon and dinner will be ready.” 

He shook his hand and laughed, leaving the kitchen. He had reached the first step on the staircase when he heard a knock on the door. Looking at his wrist watch, he smiled brightly as he dashed for the door, opening it to find Y/N. He could feel his heart pound in his chest as he took in the sight of her. She blushed slightly and bit her lip before shyly looking up at him. 

“Hey, you made it just in time,” he gave her a chaste kiss and grabbed her hand and led her towards the staircase. 

“Dean, who was at the door?” Mary called from the kitchen. 

“Hi Mrs. Winchester,” Y/N called as Dean let out a small groan. 

“Y/N,” he whispered, “she’s going to talk your ear off now.” 

Y/N jabbed him in the ribs before turning to smile sweetly at Dean’s Mom, “How are you doing Mrs. Winchester?” 

“Y/N, you know better than that,” Marry chuckled as she pulled her in for a hug. “You know you can call me Mary.” 

“Mom, we gotta go study now,” Dean interjected. 

“He’s right, Mrs--” she stopped when Mary raised her eyebrow at her, “Mary. We have a big test coming up and we can’t have our star Wrestler not able to compete because of his low G.P.A.” 

“Alright,” Mary said eyeing them suspiciously, “dinner should be ready soon.” 

“Okay, Ma,” Dean said as he took Y/N’s hand, pulling her with him up the stairs and towards his room.   

Once inside his room, Dean closed the door and pinned Y/N to it. His lips found hers in a soft and chaste kiss before her arms wrapped around his neck, deepening it. She giggled as his mouth moved from her lips, to her jaw, and down her neck. It made his heart race when she giggled. 

“Dean, your mom is down stairs, and we just started dating,” she whispered. 

“Not like we haven’t done it before,” Dean muttered with a smile, “there was that time after practice in Baby’s back seat,” he reminded her. “We can be quiet… well mostly,” he wiggled his eyebrows-  making her laugh. “Come here,” he led her to the bed. 

“What is it? I came for dinner and I need to check the mail when I get home, acceptance letters are coming,” she said, tilting her head curiously. “Besides, we should really study for our test.”  

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said, waving her off. “But there is something I have to give you.” 

Dean reached under his bed to find the lunchbox, only, it was gone. He dropped to the floor with a hard thud and searched frantically. 

“What is it?” Y/N asked as she moved off the bed and to the floor. “What are you looking for?”   

“Um, give me a sec babe,” he let out a nervous laugh, “make yourself comfortable. I need to step out and ask Sammy something,” Dean rushed out of the room and to Sam’s. 

Stomping towards Sam's room, Dean tested the knob to find it unlocked. Pushing the door open, he froze at the sight of Sam with the ring he bought Y/N in his hand. If Sam had lost the ring, Dean was sure that he would have murdered his brother.  

“Give that back,” Dean growled, “or I’m going to make sure I’m an only child.” 

“Are you going to marry her?” Sam asked, diffusing Dean quickly.

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. How could he tell his baby brother that he’d have dreams of spending the rest of his life with Y/N. The fact that his first wet dream wasn’t about his first girlfriend, but of his best friend. 

Walking up to Sam’s bed, Dean sat by his brother, “It’s a promise ring, and her favorite stone,” he held out his palm, hoping that Sam would put the ring on it. “I’m not going to lie. I’ve been thinking about being with Y/N for a long time. She’s my best friend, and--” 

“You love her,” Sam finished. “You love her enough to promise that you two will be together for a long time?” 

“I hope so,” Dean said, “I mean, we only just started really dating and saying the big ‘L’ word might be too soon. But I know that I can’t see my life without Y/N in it.” 

“But what about college?” Sam asked. “If you don’t go--” 

“No one said anything about not going, Sammy,” Dean sighed. “We applied to the same colleges, not to mention I’ve been studying my ass off so I can get into some good programs. Now, can I please have my ring back?” Dean asked as he gave his brother a pleading look. 

“Think Jess and I could be as happy as you and Y/N are going to be?” Sam said as he handed Dean the ring. 

“Don’t know,” Dean shrugged as he made his way towards Sam’s door, “you’d need to stop being a goober for that to happen.” 

“Shut up, Jerk,” Sam laughed, throwing a pillow at Dean who dodged. 

“Back at ya, Bitch,” Dean let out as he rushed back towards his room. 

Sam could hear the excited yells and a thud coming from Dean's room. Shaking his head, he laid down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. He was only hoping that when he finally had the courage to kiss Jess, things would work out like they did for his brother.

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[lihikainanea]

bill moving into a new apartment and on his must haves he puts a large bath. tigers confused cause he doesn’t take baths and she can fit inside a normal one. she goes house hunting with him and when they find a medium sized one, he’s like nope not big enough. and tigers like.... how. and he blushes a bit and whispers in his ear that he wants one for two. and she also blushes and pushes his shoulder, “tell me that before we go look next time, goober.”

Oh my god baby, come with me on this journey.

Alright so Bill is shopping for a new place, right, and he’s being...oddly specific about this bath tub situation. Tiger is pulling up listings, showing them to him, and his first question is just...how big is the bath tub. She lets it slide a few times, but when it’s every time, she just throws him a weird look.

“Alright bud, what’s with the bath tub thing?” she asks, “You don’t even take baths.”

Bill puts on a mildly offended face.

“Maybe that’s because I don’t fit into bath tubs,” he says with a bristle, “And maybe I’m a little sensitive about that.”

He’s not. He’s not sensitive about that at all. But he wants to poke her buttons so she gets all squishy for him, all sappy and apologetic, and that’s exactly what happens.

But like...listen. She helps him find a few that he likes. She helps him book the appointments to see them, when he’s been really busy with work. And Bill loves it when she takes care of stuff like this for him, because he knows that whatever situation he walks into will be safe for him. He knows she’ll have taken precautions, asked all the questions for him. He knows that the apartment will not have anyone other than them and the agent in it, because tiger will have requested that beforehand. He knows that she’ll have booked the visit under her name, and not his. All of it is just...it’s handled.

So they make a weekend out of it. Tiger has 5 lined up that he likes--but every single one, Bill just barely spends any time looking at the surroundings. One agent was writing sonnets about the arched walkway but Bill already had half his body in the bathroom, and a second later he’s back in the hallway.

“Thank you,” he says politely, “But no.”

Tiger is confused, but follows him out.

“Bill you barely even--”

“Bath tub is too small,” he says, holding open his car door for her.

Every apartment, it’s the same. He walks in, checks out the tub--and walks out.

Their third weekend in a row of doing this, tiger is starting to lose her patience. But she books one and she thinks bingo, this one boasts a clawfoot tub that is 8 feet long. She’s proud of her find, and she doesn’t even mention it to Bill because she wants him to be surprised. To sign on the spot.

So they get there, right, and Bill heads right to the bathroom but this time tiger is right behind him, and she’s so excited that she’s bouncing. His reaction will be priceless--he’ll be elated. He’ll turn to the agent, that million dollar smile of his, and say draw up the papers. He’ll pick tiger up and swing her around. Happiness. Joy.

Except Bill walks in, and this time he actually....ponders. He stops, cocking his head to the side, measuring. Visualizing. Tiger is looking at him expectantly, but after a long while, he looks at the agent. And she knows that look. She has seen that look across 85 fucking apartments in 3 weeks.

“Sorry, but no,” he smiles kindly, “Thank you.”

And he goes to leave, but tiger throws her hands up in disbelief.

“What?” she shrieks, “Just....what?”

Bill looks at her startled, but her look mirrors his.

“No,” she says, and she gives him a mild swat and he stumbles back into the bathroom. She barrels past him.

“Bill, how is this tub not fucking big enough?” she gesticulates wildly at it, “This tub is 8 fucking feet long. You are not 8 fucking feet long.”

“It’s just not big enough,” he gives a casual shrug, an apologetic little smile. Tiger’s look is still one of disbelief, borderline insanity.

“Bill,” she says again, “This tub is huge.”

“No.”

“Yes. This is not even a debate. Look at this fucking tub,” she throws her purse off, climbs into the tub, “This fucking tub is huge.”

“Not big enough,” he says calmly, putting his hands in his pockets. The real estate agent is just slowly walking backwards out of the bathroom

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she’s still going off, but like, with the agent out of the room--now the dynamic is shifting. Now Bill’s looking a little taller, a little more stern.

“Tiger,” he says in warning.

“You are out of your goddamn mind. Look at this tub. Look at it Bill,” she whips the curtain the rest of the way back, and she plops down and stretches her legs out, “It is huge.”

“No.”

“Yes. You are not 8 fucking feet long. You know what is? This tub, it’s fucking big enough you--”

And y’know, Bill, for as big as he is--he’s a quick motherfucker. And he’s had enough of tiger’s hysterical squawking. So in a flash, he’s in the tub with her and he sits down quickly. But he’s already all bent in two, and he crams himself in with such force that his shins press against hers and push her back. Her back slams into the tub wall, the momentum shooting one of her legs up and over the edge, and Bill just keeps fucking Tetris-ing his lanky ass in there until tiger is completely squished to the far wall, folded like a pretzel, and Bill’s knees are still at his chin. A look of realization dawns on her face, and Bill just holds his hands out in front of him calmly, looking at her in exasperation.

“Ohhhhhhhhh,” she says, when she realizes.

“Ohhhhhhhh,” Bill mocks her tone, and her expression. Tiger blushes.

“So,” Bill says calmly, and he intertwines his fingers in an act that reeks of pretentiousness, “Do we understand now?”

“We do,” she mumbles, “But we also could have told me that. Now get out, this hurts.”

Bill goes to move, an ungraceful squeaking sound coming from the tub, but then his movements stop and his eyes go wide.

“Bill?”

“Okay,” he says, “We might be stuck.”

“Bill,” tiger snaps, and she goes to wriggle away but she ends up jamming her hips in an awkward way and now one of her legs is by Bill’s head and the other one is somehow underneath him.

“Stop wiggling,” he grunts, trying to get an angle to pull himself up. He succeeds a little, but then his knee locks around tiger’s waist and one of his legs is hanging out the tub.

“Bill just--”

“Tiger I’m trying--”

“Not this way you oaf, go there and just twist--”

“Do you think this is helping? Because it’s not helping.”

“How many legs do you fucking have you octopus? Just put them--”

“You were the one who said this tub was big enough--”

[paperficwriter]

Your First Date

Some sweet, fluffy batarou. Being teens in love.

Cut is for length, not for content.

“Oi, Badd. Why didn’t we go on a first date?”

“Well, ya hospitalized me, and then ya went on some kind of monster rager and ended up becomin’ some kinda gargoyle thing? With horns, I heard? And then ya ran off for a hot minute until ya showed up here ‘cause Zenko thought you were some kinda stray to bring home, and here we are.”

“...Heh, yeah, that just about covers it.”

Somehow during months of living together, this conversation didn’t even come up until they were sitting together on the couch, watching an anime one evening that depicted a boy and a girl in a very typical ‘is this a date?!’ situation. They were quiet for a little bit after that, until Badd prompted him by elbowing him in the arm. “Did ya want to? I mean, I feel like we kinda skipped that whole thing, yeah? Usually ya date before ya start livin’ with someone.”

“So what’s the difference between going on a date and dating?”

Badd paused the television and turned to him, wedging himself into the back sofa cushion on his side. “The date’s kinda...the thing itself. Datin’ is when you’re, like, ‘Let’s see how this pans out and if I wanna be your girlfriend for the long haul.’”

“Does that mean we skipped straight to making you my girlfriend?”

“Psh. I’m savin’ my girlfriend status for The One. You lose.”

Garou chuckled and pulled one of Badd’s hands over to rub between his. “Never been on a date before,” he mumbled.

“Are ya serious?” Badd winced when Garou bent one of his fingers sideways. “Ow. I didn’t mean it t’ be shitty! You’re good-lookin,’ so I figured ya woulda had to beat ‘em off with a stick!”

Holy shit, did Garou just blush?! “It’s not like I really had a chance, with the whole ‘leaving home and living at a dojo and then dishonoring said dojo and everything afterward,’ you know?”

Badd dragged his thumb against one of the long lines across Garou’s hand. Then he realized it wasn’t actually the love line, or the life line, or whatever. But rather, it was the pink, faded scar left from his hero hunting. “That means if I take ya out on a date, it’s not just our first date but your first date. Officially.”

Garou nodded. “Which means it can’t suck.”

“Hey, my dates don’t suck.”

“They better not. You don’t have an excuse like I do, since it sounds like you’ve been on a million, you hussy.”

Badd snatched his hand back so he could grab him by one of his wild ‘ears’ of hair. “I ain’t a hussy! And I haven’t been on a million dates! Just a few!”

Thin fingers jabbed at his side right into one of his ticklish pressure points, and Badd’s body buckled in on itself. “No, no, you’re clearly the dating pro, so you better wow me or I’m leaving!”

“Fine!” Badd threw himself on top of Garou, grabbing him by his shirt. He dropped his face close to his with a huge grin. “Then I’m gonna take ya on the best damn date o’ your life. So get ready, wolf boy.”

Garou snuck in a kiss onto Badd’s round nose, flashing his own teeth in a smile. “Okay. I’m holding you to that.”

—

Badd ended up borrowing a car. Although he had gotten his license, he didn’t really need one in the city, since he either walked wherever he needed to go or took public transportation. But if he was going to take Garou on a date, they were going to have to head out a little distance from his normal stomping grounds, enough that no one would immediately recognize him or, worse, ask questions about Garou.

And even as it was, Badd still didn’t sport his normal pompadour, and Garou had one of his beanies over his trademark hair. “So, where are we going?” Garou asked as he reached over to play with Badd’s loose strands where they framed his face. 

“It’s a surprise, ya goober. Also, I, uh...didn’t wanna talk about it so much in front o’ Zenko or she’d be sore we weren’t taking her.”

“Scandalous.”

“Shut up!” Badd gave him a shove, but he was smiling. The drive itself was nice; the air was cool, they listened to some music (and since it was just them, they didn’t even have to suffer through Amai Mask’s discography), and the sunset was a beautiful bleed of color across the horizon. 

Garou grinned when Badd turned into a hotel. “Oh, so it’s that kind of a date, huh?”

“It ain’t like that! Don’t be weird!” Badd’s cheeks burned up to his ears. “I got us a room so we didn’t have to rush back tonight, and so I didn’t have to find some random place to park.”

When Badd got back from checking in, Garou had his face out the window of the car, sniffing, eyes big. It was like he was looking into the distance, at nothing in particular, an invisible interest.

Badd couldn’t help ruffling the top of his head. “What is it, boy?” he asked like he was talking to a dog, “Whattaya smell, huh?” 

Garou rolled his eyes but didn’t really divert his attention, though his did close his eyes. “It’s been forever since I went to the beach. I can smell the sand and the water...and I can hear it.”

Badd turned his ear up, letting the wind hit him. He could just barely make out the salty scent, but he certainly couldn’t hear it. “Good thing that ain’t the surprise.”

Tipping his head curiously, Garou got out of the car, and they started walking down the road. 

It couldn’t be but so surprising, because they could see the boardwalk from the half-mile mark as they walked up toward it. A large road right beside piers and docks had been lined with shops, stands and various attractions on either side, and there was a huge ferris wheel lit up with sparkling lights.

Badd had insisted on going during the week, so since it was Wednesday there weren't nearly as many people as there probably would have been on the weekend. On top of that, it was also late in the season, so there weren’t visiting tourists to contend with either. “I know ya hate crowds as much as I do,” Badd commented as he took his hand. “And I wanted your first date to be a good experience, ya know.”

Garou was staring in every direction, his mouth just a little bit open. Shit, was it too much? Had Badd overdone it?

What finally came out was: “I want to eat everything.”

Badd laughed. “Okay. Sounds like a plan.”

When Garou said everything, he wasn’t kidding. Like a bloodhound, Garou made a beeline for the spots that had the best-smelling greasy food scents, and Badd found himself being dragged to stand after stand to buy long skewers of yakitori, shioyaki and ikayaki. Each one was shoved into his face to try. “Please at least keep the squid in a different hand. If I think I’m gonna get chicken and bite into the ikayaki, I’m gonna hurl.”

Garou just took a bite of each. To spite him.

Now, the noodles he could get behind: yakisoba with deliciously tender pieces of pork; hot, sour Thai noodles that warmed him up to the core; a ramen burger made with prime beef and huge pieces of near-solid noodles. Garou was about to lead them to the taiyaki parfait stand, when Badd finally put his hand on his arm.

“Babe. Ya know I think the world of ya, but can we digest for, like, five minutes?”

“I guess.” He smirked and kissed a spot of sauce off the corner of his mouth. “You weakling.”

Next, Badd took him to an arcade. It was set up to look like one of the “classic” ones, with pinball, huge games with old displays that were probably twenty years old, and racing games that made Garou have to fold his long limbs inwards to get to the gas and brake. 

When he caught Badd laughing, he glared. “I’m still going to kick your ass, even if I do dislocate my hip.”

“You are older than me, Stretch. That’s a real concern.”

“By a year!”

But they figured it was time to go when Garou laid into a test-your-strength punching dummy a bit too hard and snapped it off its support. In his defense, Badd absolutely should have been watching him closer. Garou had a tendency to get carried away.

As they explored the area even more, they came to a set of shops outside a mall connected to the boardwalk. Garou wandered over to an open stand and stopped so hard his heels screeched. “Oh my god, Badd, look at this.” At first, it just looked like they were selling little trinkets and random junk...until Badd got a closer look. “It’s fucking knock-off hero stuff like you find online!”

Badd nearly choked as he picked up a toy that he could only guess was supposed to be Genos with huge neon eyes and a perfectly rectangular mouth. One hand was on backwards, and the paint job was so abysmal it was like it was just dipped in random colors. A figurine of Atomic Samurai actually had a gun for some reason, Zombieman had been painted lime green, and then…

“You have to buy it.”

“I don’t have to do any such a damn thing.”

“Please. I need this as a memento of our first date.”

Badd sighed and paid the ridiculous amount for a Metal Bat action figure: the torso was so big his head was roughly pea-sized, he was wearing a skirt and his bat looked like it was a wooden one. “It’s literally in the name! Metal Bat! They had one job!”

Garou cackled as he pocketed his prize. “Villains beware! The amazing Wood Bat! Special move: Splinter Spirit!”

As the sky was just beginning to transition from a red-touched blue into night, Badd walked Garou out onto the pier that cut into the ocean far enough that it was actually quiet, compared to the street. A torii gate stood alone overlooking the water and the far-off sunset. Garou stared up at it as Badd explained, “There used to be a shrine on the water, but it got destroyed by a typhoon or somethin.’ They left the torii up ‘cause the sun falls right inside it, yeah? And it was still standin,’ so...yeah.”

“You know a lot about this place.”

Badd grinned, kind of lopsidedly. “Yeah…”

“Like you’ve been here before. More than once.”

“Heh, guess I’ve been caught.”

Easily hopping up onto it, Garou sat on one of the wooden rails of the dock and looked out over the easy-going waves. “That’s fine. There are only but so many places you can take dates, so obviously there’s going to be some overlap.”

“What? Oh god, no. Garou.” Careful not to push him over, Badd got between Garou’s long legs, hands holding his waist. “I ain’t...I’ve never brought another date here. Never. You’re the first.” He sighed. “I came here when I was a kid, with my folks. And Zenko after she was born, for a couple of years but I think she was too young to really remember it. This is, uh…” He cleared his throat. “This is the first time…” God, don’t cry, don’t fucking choke up. “Since…”

“Hey.” Garou’s fingers rubbed the back of his scalp and pulled his face into his stomach. “I got it. It’s okay. I like it. A lot.”

“...yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s the best first date. I thought you were just going to drag me out to something really lame and I was going to have to be like, ‘Nooo, Baaadd, I loooove it…’”

Badd snickered and jabbed Garou in the side of the leg. “Jerk.”

Garou continued on in the mock-patronizing voice as he jumped off the ledge and back to the dock. “‘Oh my gooood...no, you put soooo much effort into it…’”

“Well now if I ever do disappoint ya, I’ll see right through you!”

“Of course you will, because I am so transparent and you are so perceptive.” Garou tugged him toward the ferris wheel. “Come on, I think this is a good time for this one.”

Badd nodded, and when they got to the ramp, there really wasn’t much of a line. They climbed into the next available car together. It was one of the new, fancier ferris wheels, with a compartment that people could sit in facing each other while looking out a window on either side, at the sea or at the glittering city skyline in the near-distance. Slowly, they started the climb, and as Badd watched the crowds below get smaller and smaller, he could feel Garou’s eyes on him. 

“So, I’m new to this, but it seems pretty obvious that this is when you’re supposed to kiss on dates, right? That’s a thing isn’t it?”

Badd turned his hand over when cool fingers rubbed his knuckles. “Yeah, I think ya kinda...play it by ear, and when it feels right, ya jus’ go for it.”

Garou leaned close, his smile reflecting the bulbs outside that lined the ride’s spokes. “I think you’re supposed to call the shots though, right?”

“Yeah...I think so.” Badd moved like he was going to close the gap between them, but then put his fingers up to block Garou’s lips. “Wait.”

“...seriously?”    

“Trust me.”

It was only about a minute until they rounded the curve and there they were, at the top of the wheel. In the grand scheme of things, it probably wasn’t that high up but...here, it was the highest point, and for them it might as well have been the top of the world. And before Garou could ruin it by saying something dumb or complaining about the hold up, Badd yanked him into the softest, deepest kiss he could give, putting every ounce of himself into it.

They didn’t actually break it until they were almost at the bottom again, and even then they stayed close, gazing into one another’s face.

“You know…” Garou gave him another little peck, smiling through it. “I think I could get into this whole dating thing.”

Badd hummed, and he kept his fingers loosely holding his shirt so he couldn’t get far away from him. “Yeah...kinda figured ya might feel that way.”

[bloodandpaintchips]

Eat, Pray, Love

Tagging→ Andrea Sheldon, Audra Sheldon, a dead guy named Lou Time Frame→ Late September, 2020 Location→ Brooklyn & Upstate NY General Notes→ Andy’s a mess, and finally meets her proposed dead mother, Audra. It goes well.   

Glamorous.

When Andrea got another bite on her Facebook post about her mom and the photos she posted, she didn’t open it for a while. When she finally did, just like the note, she just kept repeating certain phrases in her head. Like glamorous.

It still sat in her DMs days later:

Hey, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen the lady you’re looking for. I work in Chelsea and I’ve served her and some guy a few times. Almost didn’t recognize her or say anything because the woman I see is way more glamorous. Not as grungy and artsy, just reallly nice jewelry and big tips.

Anyway, I don’t know much about her or where she’s from but I know she either lives here in the city or she comes in a lot. 

Hope this helps.

Andy knew this was supposed to be exciting, but for the first time in what had to be years, she was nervous. Did this person make a mistake or did she actually get a lead on Audra? Taking the next step felt important.

Maybe her head was also in a spin because she was so hungry. She looked up from the twin motel bed she sat perched on to look at the mirror across the room over the dresser. Just an empty spot on the bed in front of a laptop, but she didn’t need a reflection to know she no longer looked human. The hungrier she got, the more tired, the more she stayed in her true form, which she had yet to accept. Tearing her gaze away from the reflection, she looked over at the twenty-something year old guy laying face down on the bed, glassy eyes gazing at her and mouth quivering from her compulsion to stay quiet.

He looked bad. Skin overly pale, her bites covering him, some of them getting infected. It was like fasting and coming home to a TV dinner that had been left out for a week.

She groaned, shutting the laptop and reaching for a rubber band on the nightstand to put her hair up.

In moments she was out of the motel, walking to her van with No Name Dude slung over her shoulder. 

Tossing him into the back and unceremoniously shutting the doors, she got into the driver's seat, started the engine and took off to the local hospital. So far she’s been deemed in this West Virginia town as “animal attacks” but she knew she had about one more time before she had to hit the road again.

Parking far away from the emergency entrance, she put the car in park and looked back at the near dead college boy on her blankets. 

After stopping the car she crawled back there, taking a few deep breaths to hype herself up for one last feed on this guy so she could play it off long enough to find the next one. But she knew it was gonna taste gross.

Scanning his arm for an okay spot, she lifted his elbow to her lips and sank her exposed fangs a few inches above it, drinking and shutting her eyes through a few gulps. With a deep breath, she released him and wiped her mouth off with one of the blankets. Despite the stale taste, after a moment she felt slightly normal again. She could feel herself returning to normal, skin soft and eyes clear, but she had a small window of time before her hunger would begin to nag again.

She pulled the guy out of her van, throwing him back over her shoulder and taking off to the entrance to drop his body on the curb. Feeling his pulse, her eyebrows raised to find that it was pretty steady.

“Good luck,” she mumbled. After that she was gone, having sped back to the van, started it up and headed for the road.

West Virginia Tech wasn’t exactly a notorious party school, but she ate well while she was here. And if she was going to have the energy to get closer to finding her mother, she needed to be filled up one more time.

-

“Oh hi, I’m so sorry I’m just standing out here like a goober, I guess I’m debating cause I’m nervous,” Andrea said, greeting three girls walking up onto the porch of a house party.

“Oh my god! Are you new on campus?” One of the girls pressed her hand to her chest like Andrea was the most precious thing she’d ever seen.

“Do you know anyone inside? If not you can come in with us!” The tallest girl introduced herself as Kelly, the first one to speak as Chelsea and the third, who was already buzzed and shooting Andy a warm smile, as Morgan. 

“No, I just saw the public invite and wanted to put myself out there but I should have known coming alone would send me into a whirlwind of regret,” Andy replied, laughing and shaking her head.

“Come on, you’ll walk in with us and it won’t be awkward at all,” Chelsea said, earning nods from her friends.

When they entered the party, bass throbbing against wood floors and bodies everywhere, Andrea thought of a time when these kinds of events (outside of working) used to send her into an anxiety hole. She thought about her past fears a lot. Now, all she felt in the sweaty room to the soundtrack of Travis Scott was determination. 

She played up her role of awkward new girl, letting the threesome introduce her around until she found the right one. Luckily, he ended up presenting himself.

“Kelly, who’s your friend?” He asked, leaning in to be heard over the music.

“This is Rachel, our new friend!” She yelled back along with confirmations from the girls.

Andy maintained her role but almost wanted to giggle to herself at the way this boy looked at her, like he was hungry and she was a delicious snack; irony always got to her.

“Yeah, my name’s Rachel,” she repeated, reaching out to shake his hand. 

“Lou. You new to the school or just the crew?” His hand lingered on hers for a moment and the girls, watching and grinning and giggling amongst themselves, took that as a cue to let them get to know each other.

“New to the school and the crew I guess,” she answered, tucking her hair behind her ear and giving a half smile to really play up her naïveté. “I’m enjoying myself though.”

“Do you get high?”

“Yeah actually, are they smoking in here?”

“No but I’ve got some up in my room.”

She met his curious eyes with a smile, holding her hand out, telling him to lead the way. On her way up the stairs, you could hear whoops and other inappropriate commentary despite the loud ass music. She knew it was coming; the college parties all blend together after a while.

Lou sat on his bed, rolling a blunt on what looked to be a folder from one of his classes. He was asking her a lot of bullshit questions about her interests and who she was as a person so the obvious ploy to get her in the sack seemed more genuine.

“So I lied,” she said, once he’d finished rolling and was passing the second hit to her. She hit it once and pressed the burning tip onto the desk to put it out. “I don’t really smoke.”

Lou’s eyes lit up and she could tell he was holding back a pleased grin. “Oh, you just wanted to spend some time alone with me?” They were sitting on his small bed and he inched closer, putting an arm around her shoulder.

She made eye contact with him again, giving a shy smile before pressing the middle of his chest back so he was essentially tossed onto the pillow. His eyes were wide from his now laying position but they still glistened with excitement as she crawled on top of him.

“You got me,” she said, taking off her glasses and putting them on the stand. His heart was beating fast and she could hear it so loudly.

“I uh, don’t have any protection, I hope that’s cool.” 

She tried not to roll her eyes, instead leaning down to press a small kiss to his neck before flicking her tongue at the lobe of his ear. “That’s cool,” she said simply before beginning a trail of kissing and sucking down his neck, collarbone and eventually removing his shirt to continue down his torso.

He bucked his hips a little, rushing her toward the blowjob he was so sure was coming.

“Be patient,” she said, running a finger down to his happy trail.

“I’m sorry you’re just...so—”

She didn’t want to waste any more time, sinking her fangs into his hip. She would later think it funny that she ended up being the impatient one. 

Covering his mouth when he started to scream, she shushed him repeatedly, still straddling his waist.

“You’re going to be silent. And you’re going to come with me.”

——

Back at the motel, Andy laid on one of the twin beds, her hand on her stomach and a smile on her face. She felt solid again. Lou was slumped up in a sitting position on the other bed, watching tv with dazed eyes and remaining under her command not to speak.

Sitting up, she grabbed her laptop and set it in front of her, ready to finally answer that message and possibly hit the road again soon.

“Thanks for this, by the way.” The comment was directed at Lou where he sat, as she opened the internet and leaned over to grab a lighter off the table, sparking the blunt he’d rolled for them (her, now) hours earlier.

______________________________________________________________

So Lou was dead.

He was also still in the back of her van, but once she reached New York, one hunch led to another, to an acquaintance to...actually being close to her mom. She’d been led to one more person, someone who supposedly could give her an address. So, she didn’t really have time to find a hospital and dump his half dead body there. She didn’t really have time for anything but feeding and fixating.

She was also not doing too hot again. Thumping her head against the driver’s seat of the van, she sighed heavily before aggressively slapping herself in the face.

“Come on Andrea,” she mumbled through gritted teeth. She knew she had to get better at feeding -- more efficient or something because she got to this point much too often. A voice in her head told her it was her own fault, feeding on singular targets until they get rotten, leaving them alive because of some pathetic desire she had in her heart to be good. Ironically, she didn’t care as much about that as a human. Maybe because she had a soul then and didn’t spend all the time lamenting about her lack of one.

She was the lamest fucking immortal on the planet, that much she knew had to be true.

Her eyes weren’t hazel anymore, her veins protruding to show she hadn’t properly fed in days. Maybe a week. Time was blurring together even more the closer she got to Audra. But she had to get out of the van and go across the street to the club. Her executive functioning also seemed to grow the closer she got. Scared but determined to find her mother; it was an annoying line to toe.

The nightclub was called BACCHUS and it was somewhere in Brooklyn. It would be the first creature friendly drinking hole she’d encounter since TARTARUS. Looking at the neon sign would have made her a little nostalgic if she wasn’t so focused on the turning of her stomach, skin and head. Her hunger made her feel like she had the flu, and that was only in early stages. If this place was for humans, they might have called her a meth-head and dismissed her at the door.

“Oh, honey.” The bodyguard at the entrance addressed her with concerned yellow eyes when she was at the front of the line. “Come on in.”

She simply gave him a grateful smile before going in, scanning the big city club for a bartender with fire red hair, as he’d been described to her by multiple humans and vampires who had encountered Audra. Supposedly he did more than encounter her before she “settled down” wherever she was. Fighting off a couple twitches, she continued to study the bar until she found him.

 “Don’t even, sweetheart,” he said, holding a hand up when she found a stool in front of him. She was confused until he set a tumbler of thick red liquid on the bar in front of her. Everyone could tell she was out of it. She downed it, no questions asked.

As soon as she’d set it down, he was refilling it again from a glass jar with snake engravings on it.

“That’s cool,” she said, pointing at the jar before gladly taking her glass and finishing it off again.

“I’ve had it forever. But let’s talk about who you are and why you don’t like feeding.” His eyes flashed a pretty violet and she found herself studying the vampire, thinking of her mother and the vast difference between this bartender and Frank Sheldon.

“Um, I’m Andrea. I got turned against my will when I was 24 and I guess I’m still struggling.” He was studying her too.

“So you need to loosen up,” he replied, ignoring the other bar patrons waving at him for service, to the irritation of his coworkers. “I have just the thing.”

He reached under the bar and pulled out a similar jar, only this one was matte black, covered in silver snakes.

“Why the new jar?” She asked, eyeing the new stream of blood being served into her glass. He shrugged.

“My good stuff. Consider it to be top shelf,” he said with a pleased grin. She was already feeling better, knowing the skin on her face was smooth again and her eyes back to their unassuming shade. As a result she relaxed the more she spoke to him, but she was getting away from the point. Downing the new glass and not tasting anything strange, she slid it back to him with a gracious nod.

“So, I’m not just here looking for free snacks and conversation with a new person,” she began. He liked that, leaning forward on the bar and cocking his head slightly.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I...someone I met recently said you may be able to point me in the direction of Audra Sheldon.”

That gave him pause and he straightened his back, expression flopping between surprise and confusion.

“Sheldon?”

“Uh, she may have gone by Audra Miller when you knew her.” The confusion left his face and he folded his arms, eyeing her curiously.

“Wow. You’re the daughter.”

“Did she talk about me?” she asked, tucking her hair behind her ear. Her expression dropped a bit when he shook his head.

“No. She was pretty withholding about her past. Especially with me. When I’m with someone I can briefly see their memories. You look like the little girl I saw, now that I get a real look at you.”

Andrea wondered if Audra never spoke of them to protect them. It would make sense. It just seems odd to brush a little girl’s hair every day and sing to her and read her comics only to never bring her up again.

“What would I see if I saw your memories?” he asked, bringing her out of the thought trail. She trailed the rim of her glass and laughed a little, feeling a strange buzz in her head that felt unfamiliar. Probably the top shelf blood or whatever.

“Not much,” she shrugged. “You’d see a lot of movie nights with a human dad, my glorious years as a busboy and a few romps, some that stay with me, some I really wish I could forget. Typical sad immortal girl shit I guess.” The way he gazed at her made her add on another point. “I dont necessarily believe in the whole ‘when you sleep with someone you’re sleeping with everyone they’ve slept with’ bit, but I would definitely pass on having a sex partner in common with my mother.”

He laughed loudly, earning an eye roll from the other bartender who pushed behind him to serve an impatient demon. “Maybe you have a little gift for mind reading.”

“I don’t think so. I could just be good at reading people. Or it could be you blatantly looking...everywhere…” she said, trailing off a bit as his gaze drifted back up from her arms, neck and chest.

“I’m sorry, I tend to be a little greedy sometimes,” he said, trying his best at a well-meaning smile.

“I just need the address.” She knew he had it, he knew she wanted it, and she was grateful for the blood but tired of being leered at.

“Why do you wanna find your mom anyway? She certainly didn’t go looking for you.” Despite his discouraging words, he was ripping off a piece of paper from a pad by the register behind him. He scribbled a few words onto it with a sharpie and slid it to her.

“Well, I guess if that’s the case I have a twenty plus year curiosity to quell. Thanks,” she said, sliding off the stool.

“Good luck,” he paused and put his hand on hers that held the paper, smirking. “And have a good trip okay?”

She stood there, squinting at him after the weird sendoff and gently pulled her hand away. He said “trip” with a wink and she didn’t have time to decipher it. However the buzzing in her head had grown quite a bit and the further away she got from the bar, the more she thought his “top shelf” blood might have had a strange kick to it.

___________

Lou was well past the rigor mortis stage, but Andrea couldn’t be bothered with that. She only just realized she’d been dosed with a psychedelic and now that she had an address, stopping now seemed silly. He would just have to stay there for the time being. She had no idea how long the drugs would last or what they would do to her so she just needed to get where she was going.

The first wave was alright, maybe she even liked it. The lights of the city danced and when she got to the interstate along rows of trees, they danced for her too. Their arms reached over the road ahead of her, twisting and furling. As long as she did what the GPS said, she felt she would be fine. And she really believed that, until she started to peak and the hallucinations took form.

The van skidded to a stop off the side of the road when she felt someone there with her. She swore she felt someone sitting in the passenger seat but whenever she looked, they were gone. She had to stop. Get herself together.

When no one materialized, she cursed at herself and put the car back in drive, bouncing back onto the paved road.

“Oh, we could have been so happy Andrea. I swear you just didn’t see it.”

She heard those words, clear as day. But she wouldn’t stop again, could only grip the wheel until she could feel it indenting under her skin. She knew it was August’s voice, the sound of it sending a shiver up her scar. It was unmistakable.

“He’s not here Andy. That’s impossible. He’s not here.” She finally stole a glance over to the passenger seat and gasped, snapping her eyes back to the road and shaking her head. 

August was there, pale and dapper in one of those suits, holding his decapitated head in his arms, the blood pooling in his lap and dripping from the open wound that was his neck. The head was doing the talking while his arms kept him securely in his lap.

“You have so much potential, Andrea and you’re just wasting it!” 

“No. No no no no no…” she muttered to herself, taking deep empty breaths and trying her best to keep her eyes on the road. She knew the veins in her face were pulsing, unsure if she was turning against her will because of the drugs or if she was hungry again. She was so unsure and fucking August was still talking.

“You thought a bartender or a bouncer or a pizza clerk could give you what you wanted but I offered you everything you could need on a silver platter. Every single thing you wanted--”

“EXCEPT FOR YOU. I NEVER. WANTED YOU. YOU TOOK ME,” her bellowed words filled the van as it screeched to another stop and she looked at the headless man, red veiny eyes swelling.

After a glance back at the road, he was gone. But she swore she could still see the blood puddle stain from where he sat. Starting back onto the road, she was now very aware that she hated this. She was so on edge she knew her driving wheel would now be the shape of her clenched fingers when she pulled them away.

Her phone said she had another two hours before reaching her destination. With no one else on the road in the middle of the night, she sped.

The radio was blasting now because she needed a distraction. Needed something other than the silence and whoever else would try to invade it. A couple swerves on the road where attributed to her glancing in the rearview mirror and seeing her father, looking back at her as himself only with her glowing, veiny, black rimmed eyes. She continued to mutter “no” to herself, following the road to the best of her ability.

An hour had passed, and as long as she avoided the mirrors and thus Frank, she truly felt she could get to the upstate address mostly unscathed.

She felt what had to be genuine fear. That was something she couldn’t really remember feeling as deeply as she did as a human. What fucked up memory would replay itself next? Who from her past would appear to make her feel helpless?

The few glasses of blood, as she knew, were getting weaker and weaker at their job of keeping her sustained. She saw the road and her dashboard through a dark vignette, banging her head against the seat in some feeble attempt to keep herself more present.

Soon she felt something cold and wet sliding onto her hand through her fingers and down her wrist. “No…” was the best she could do this time, coming out in almost a whimper as the familiar black mass wrapped around the steering wheel and continued to slip down her arms until the area was covered in slimy black.

She could only hear whispers upon whispers until they were incoherent. Some words that slipped through, she recognized from phrases it used to chant to her while using her body. Her body was always being used, it seemed.

The whispers grew until she felt like they were literally crawling out of her ears to join the growing mass over her arms and torso. Her eyes burned with tears and her foot pressed harder on the gas, speeding up until it filled her vision.

“It’s not real Andy,” she spoke, finally caving to the disorientation she felt. Had she stopped the car? Did she crash? Would she? She honestly didn’t know.

_

Andrea hadn’t woken up in a bed this soft since she spent the night at Johnny’s. Due to the fact that she wasn’t in Johnny’s home, confusion hit pretty quickly. She opened her eyes to a bedroom with high ceilings and tall windows, sunlight pouring in somehow and...not burning her skin off. That was even more confusing.

“Did you sleep well?” She barely had time to collect her thoughts before a short suited man stood in the doorway.

“I...sure,” she replied, sitting up from under the comforters and wiping her eyes. “Um, where am I?”

“Apologies, you’ve been in a state since you’ve gotten here. I’m Alan, I work for Audra Langman. This is her home,” he explained, smiling and waving a hand towards the end of the large bed. “If you don’t mind getting dressed in some clean clothes, you can meet me downstairs for more to eat.”

More?

She looked at the clothes on the bed, a sweatshirt with a faded college logo on it and a pair of leggings.

“Oh, and miss?” She looked up when Alan paused in the door, smiling still with a knowing look twinkling in his eyes. “We disposed of the body for you.”

_______________

Andy had a moment upstairs trying to figure out how she made it here, why she was in a mansion, why she was inexplicably fed and why Audra had a new last name. But she figured she wouldn’t get the answers to those questions if she stayed upstairs just staring at everything.

In her new clean clothes, she entered the kitchen to find a glass of dark red liquid on the counter. Walking up to it, she realized it was still warm once she picked it up. She was real tired of taking blood from strangers without knowing their origin but it smelled so good, like it was fresh. Hunger always won.

As she finished off the glass and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, Alan was in her line of view again.

“You’re kind of sneaky,” she said, licking her lips.

“I didn’t mean to sneak up on you, miss. Now that you’re fed, Audra is going to meet you in the sunroom. You can follow me,” he said, waving and walking out of the room with her on his coattails.

She couldn’t believe she was here, after everything. She found her and she wasn’t dead and they were in a fancy house with a butler, and the sun that shone through the windows didn’t burn her. As she followed him, she couldn’t help but look at every surface. It had truly been so long since she’d seen sunlight, she forgot she missed it.

“Right in here,” Alan said, holding a hand out. She walked past him into the plant filled sunroom. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, almost too distracted by the brightness of the colors -- straight sun hitting the veiny colorful leaves of all her plants. It was beautiful and for the first time in forever, she really wanted to paint.

“It’s nice isn’t it?”

Andy froze at the sound of her voice, something she only knew from fuzzy childhood memories now directly in earshot. She’d only spoken four words and Andrea knew. That velvety, deep, slightly raspy tone was her mom. She finally looked up from the plant she was fixated on and made eye contact with the woman. Audra continued speaking before she could muster a response.

“The sun, I mean. That enchantment was a hard one,” she said, laughing and going to sit on a wicker couch in the middle of it all. There was another one directly across from it beyond a coffee table and Andrea followed her, choosing that one as a seat. She was unsure how close they should be.

“It’s...I didn’t know it was possible,” she managed, looking around at the windows and rays more. “The whole place is uh, pretty magical.” She knew she had so much to say, and Audra was examining her intensely. 

“So, you probably have a lot to say,” her mother expressed, basically parroting her thoughts. She crossed her toned legs under the black slip she wore under a black silk robe. Andrea wondered if she stayed in her pajamas all the time. If she lived in a house like this she probably would too.

“Yeah. I just don’t know where to start I guess.” She looked down and fiddled with the bottom of the old sweatshirt. “I made this decision to come find you and it felt so dead-ended and hopeless for years that now that I’m like, here I almost don’t know what I wanted anymore.”

“I get that.” Audra stayed silent for a few moments to let her get her thoughts in line. Finally, Andrea went on.

“Well I guess I can start by asking why you have a different last name and why I kind of just woke up here? I don’t remember a lot.”

“Okay,” Audra began. “I married Martin Langman about 3 years ago. He’s a piece of shit, but this house is his, he does what I ask of him and I come and go as I please. You woke up here because my gardener saw your van skidded off the side of the road. Looked like you got here, almost, and then passed out. You were practically shaking and you’d scratched yourself up a bit. We fed you so you could stabilize and got you into a bed. Got rid of the trash in your van, too. How long have you been like this?” She leaned back on the couch, legs still crossed.

“Uh, I guess roughly five years or so. Time started to blur a little after a while,” Andy replied, maintaining eye contact and trying her best to read her.

“You don’t like it.”

“It’s...taken some getting used to.”

“Nah, you’re still not used to it. Or you wouldn’t be carrying bodies and searching for Long Lost Mommy,” the woman said, leaning forward to pick up the mug of tea that had been waiting for her on the coffee table. Andrea steeled her spine a bit, tensing at her words.

“Maybe not. Guess we all couldn’t slip into it effortlessly,” Andrea replied, barely holding back the resentment in her tone.

“Of course I didn’t slip into it effortlessly. No one does,” Audra said with a small eye roll. “But I will say perhaps it was easier for me because I didn’t spend my time obsessing over my human life and what I had to leave behind.”

“That’s not easy for everyone like it was for you. That’s all I’m saying. Some of us have regrets about leaving people behind.” Andrea clenched her fists a little bit, trying to keep herself even, but everything Audra said, every look she gave -- it didn’t feel familial between them. There wasn’t even a fondness. A lot of questions she had were already being answered by the way the woman acted. When Audra laughed, Andy had to clench a little more.

“You resent me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I guess that’s fair. Comes with the territory. And I get it. It wasn’t exactly my plan to have a daughter. I never wanted the responsibility but there you were. And I tried the mothering role, I really did. I tried reading to you, singing to you, hoping to feel that connection other moms never shut up about.” She scoffed a little and set her tea down, settling back into the couch. “So I get why you’d grow up, human and vulnerable, wondering what happened to me and if we had all these lovely things in common or if I was missing you. That has a big effect on a child. I get it.”

It was Andrea’s turn to laugh. “I don’t think you get it.”

“I really do apologize, Andrea. Maybe I don’t get it emotionally, but it makes sense that you’d hate me. Unfortunately it’s a risk I was willing to take in the back of an alley with a traveler while your father waited for me at home. It sounds ugly, but sweetheart,” she ran a hand through her thick dark hair, messy and just like Andrea’s. “I will always put myself first. As a human, as a witch, as a vampire. Family is the center of some people’s world, but that’s just never been me.”

“How nice that must’ve been for you to be able to make the conscious human decision to fuck off despite having a husband and daughter.”

“Frank!” Audra exclaimed, clearly unfazed by Andrea’s words and going into a soft expression and a smile that was almost pitying. “Frank Sheldon. I really do think about him occasionally.”

“Occasionally.”

“Yeah. He was a nice guy and it’s ultimately why we didn’t work. Typical college white boy in a band who was dying for some girl to sweep him off his feet and distract him from how boring his life had been up until that point. And he was cute. I liked him for a while, then I got pregnant.”

Andrea let out a dry laugh. Every expectation she had was shattered by this little convo. It’s not like she didn’t think about the possibility of being disappointed, but Andy just didn’t expect her to be...such a bitch?

“So you liked him until you got pregnant.” Maybe repeating her own words would make her realize they were shitty? She wasn’t sure why she kept doing it.

“Yep.” No change in expression. She just looked so casual, like Andy was just an old girlfriend who showed up on her doorstep. “He got so domestic. All we did was fuck and play music and ride around but as soon as we were in that doctor’s office, all he wanted to do was settle down after that. He got that place from his grandmother and started talking about fate, how everything was lining up and we would be just as in love if we settled down. I was barely in love with him before that. After I had you I realized I was basically committing to all this stuff I didn’t want. I didn’t stumble upon an out, I was actively searching for one.”

“So why not let me die out there in the van?” Andy asked, crossing her own legs.

“Doesn’t look cute in front of a mansion,” Audra said simply. “Okay, that was a joke.” She added that when Andrea scooted forward like she was going to get up.

“Was it, though?” 

“Half. It really would look bad, and maybe it’s because my blood runs through you and you actually found me and the ancestors pushed me to do something about the state you were in. At the very least it’s embarrassing. Also, I knew you were coming.”

Andrea furrowed her brows. “How?”

“The cards. Of course it wasn’t spelled out for me, but the entire reading surrounded the Daughter of Wands. That’s not me, and it’s not anyone in my life currently. Everything else said travel, transformation, subsequent Nine of Swords…I just knew the reading wasn’t about me. You were coming.”

“And here I am,” Andy replied, sighing and sinking a little into the couch.

“Here you are. And I’m sorry, Andrea.”

“Why do I just feel like you’re not? You don’t really seem like the type to say sorry.”

“No, I am. I’m not sorry in the sense that I apologize, but I’m sorry you’ve been starving yourself for years and trying to find me. If I could, I would have told you to save yourself the trip. I’m sorry you spent your newborn years looking for me instead of spending them discovering yourself. That’s what I did. It’s what most new vampires do. Not you.”

“Discovering myself,” Andy said, laughing. “It’s not Eat, Pray, Love.”

“You can joke all you want to, but look at yourself, Andrea. Maybe you didn’t want to be a vampire. Maybe you didn’t choose it. But here you are. You resent me because I didn’t cling to my humanity, but you’re clinging so hard, you don’t even know who you are. That Andy is gone. Accept that.” 

Andrea’s eyes flashed red and finally, she stood.

“You don’t get to call me that. Boring Frank calls me that.”

Audra put her hands up in defense and stood as well. “Didn’t mean to step on toes.” 

“I’m gonna go. Don’t wanna take up too much more of your time,” Andrea said, patting down the pockets of her pants out of habit. She guessed all her stuff was in her car. As if on cue, Alan appeared in the sunroom with her keys extended.

“Your van is in the garage, miss. We took the liberty of cleaning it. You can follow me to get there.”

“Thanks, mister,” she mumbled, taking the keys and turning to look at her mother once more. Audra was still giving her this pitying yet curious look that Andrea realized she hated. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

She didn’t wait for a response, following Alan to the garage so she could leave this place. 

Not only was her van clean and the body gone, it seemed like they cleaned the blankets too, the errant blood stains she’d grown used to being either faded or completely gone. “Thanks again,” she said, closing the back doors and looking across the garage at Alan.

“Do you think it’s time to go home?” he asked. She wondered if he listened to their conversation. She wouldn’t have blamed him.

“Yeah, Alan,” she called back, flipping the keys in her palm and biting her lip. “I think it’s probably time to do that.”

[dolphin-bouillabaisse]

GO-ctober Prompts, 22

Inktober except without the ink, and with drabbles instead.

Prompt #22 - Ghosts

(previous | next | beginning)

(find it all on Ao3)

There are ghosts in London.

They sit in dark places. They wait around corners. Some of them float, stuck to nowhere in particular, waiting to fall on you at the hint of a word.

'Of course there are ghosts in London', you might say, 'the city is centuries old. Murder and disaster and chaos are written in its bones, on its stone walls, under its pavement. Of course there are ghosts.'

Those are not the kind of ghosts we're talking about, though. Regular human ghosts, leftover from past horrors. Any city that's been inhabited long enough gets those. Heck, your grandma's old house might have one of those. They're not what we're talking about. They aren't the kind that would scare a demon.

'Of course not', you'd complain again (you're getting a bit tetchy there, dear). 'No demon worth his banishing salt would be scared of ghosts.'

Quite right, we'd have to admit, quite right. But we're also not talking about those regular demons. Maybe you should listen first instead of interrupting and complaining.

We're not talking about regular ghosts, and we're not talking about regular demons.

We're talking about one demon in particular. One with feelings, and an imagination, and a good memory. In general, pretty good attributes to have ('not for a demon', you might interrupt again, but you're interested now, so maybe you should try not to interrupt), except mixing them together might end up with a demon who is very much haunted by ghosts.

The non-regular kind. The ones this story is about.

Because there are ghosts in London. People don't see them, because they don't remember. But he does. It's personal, you see. He remembers, and so the ghosts come to him, and only him.

They wait in St. James' Park. They see him walking along, all nice and happy ('another bad thing for a demon to be', you mumble, but a stern look will shut you up, hopefully), and they wait for him to stop, look at a pond full of ducks and swans, and then they strike.

They whisper in his ear, about broken arrangements, about wishes on pieces of paper and biting words about fraternization. They make him remember fights, and restless evenings in his apartments, and the painful hope of sleeping it all away, only to wake up to even worse feelings.

They strike him down quick and fast, and his companion won't notice until it's too late. Until the hand in his is shaking and squeezing and no kind words will help.

They make him let go and ask for a moment. He has no time to explain, and his friend gets no chance to understand. They sit in the back of his head and make him wander off, leaving behind the only person who could actually scare them away. They make him go to worse places.

'He could explain!', you join in, as if this was a conversation and not a story. He can't, we'll have to explain instead, he can't because he doesn't know how, and because he doesn't want to, because he's scared, don't you understand? When you feel broken and dark and like a horror yourself, sometimes you can't explain. Even if the person would listen. Even if they could make everything better. It's too much, and they shouldn't have to share it, because they're your ghosts, not theirs.

His ghosts. Sorry. We got a bit lost in that explanation.

Anyway.

They're his ghosts, and he wants to deal with them alone, so off he goes. That's not a good idea. There are more waiting in the park.

They sit on top of a bandstand and holler down at him with trumpets. They shout all the words, again and again, rehearsed like a scene that keeps playing here, even if it ended months ago. About not being friends, about not being on any side, about not wanting any of this. Sometimes they put in new words, or maybe he does, it's all a bit mixed up in his head. Words about 'this was never a thing' and 'did you actually believe something could happen?' and 'what an idiot, thinking an angel could love you'.

The trumpets blast into his head and make his ears ring and when the angel finally comes by and puts a hand on his shoulder, it's always a bit too late. It's been a bit too late ever since it happened here, ever since the ghosts were created to hunt him.

'So, personal ghosts', you say. 'Big deal', you say, because you can be a bit insensitive sometimes, you know? 'They can just talk it out, banish the ghosts, and then the park is nice again.'

You don't understand. The ghosts in the park are only the beginning. There are far worse ones waiting elsewhere.

'Oh', you say. Yeah. Didn't expect that, hm? Now you feel like an ass, probably. Did you not expect this to get worse? 'Not really'. Well, too late. There are many more ghosts in London.

They travel with him, sometimes, because they're stuck to the car's wheels, even if it isn't burning anymore. They creep up the steering wheel, up his arms, and strike out of nowhere. Before, a nice little drive around town. After, a rushed feeling of panic, the heat of fire in his face, the manic screaming of another demon in his ear, drowning out his angel's words that tell him to pull over, calm down, get his breathing back in order. He's almost used to this by now, and so is the angel, but that doesn't make it any better.

'No, that's not better at all.' You finally feel a bit of sympathy for them, don't you? 'No, that's not safe, he shouldn't drive like that.' is your simple idea of an answer.

Well, what's he supposed to do, just stay home? Yeah? Which one? Because they've got ghosts too.

'Oh dear.' you say, and almost sound as soft for him as his angel. (Not quite. No one ever reaches that level.)

There's ghosts in his old home. They sit in a puddle on the floor, one that's been cleaned up perfectly well already, but has left a stain – not on the floor, really, but in his mind. They rattle his windows and squeak his doors and make him jump and turn around when he's alone, because that's when they get strongest. They wait for him to sleep, so he's stopped doing that, which is not good either. His old home is not good.

Are you going to ask about the new home? Hm? 'No, the way this story is going, that's probably worse.' Yeah, it's much worse. But you did ask. (You didn't? Too bad, the story has to go on.)

The ghosts in his new home are the worst of all London. They look like flames, like burning books, like ash floating through the air. They sound like sirens and yelling and begging and no answers. They blind him, make him unable to see, unable to feel – he can't sense the angel anymore, even when he's right beside him, even when he's trying to hug him and getting pushed away because he can't admit he's hurting. They are vicious little beasts, biting away at his core, and they are heinous enough to hide away sometimes, make him feel almost as if it's getting better, only to jump out when he starts to doze off.

'Nasty bastards', you say, and might we remind you to watch your language, please, this is an angel's shop we're thinking of. It's not his fault the worst ghosts live there. (Well, maybe it is a little bit, but we're not going to admit that, and the demon is definitely not ever going to think that.) Maybe we should switch to some other ghosts-

'Nononononono.' Oh, you don't want the story anymore? You don't want to hear about the ghosts of London? There are so many.

Old ones, ancient ones. Leftover from decades ago, sitting on the passenger's side of his car and yelling that he's going too fast and hiding more subtext in that one sentence than anyone could decipher (he's doing quite well at that, though, he doesn't even need help). Standing around in streets that have been the same for hundreds of years, that have seen him do horrible things, that are there to remind him every time he walks past. He's a demon, in case you forgot. He's done some pretty ugly things. They're good at reminding him, and they are equally good at putting on the guilt, blaming him for things he wasn't even responsible for – but that's the thing about memory, isn't it? When you've got a good one, and you mix it with all your bad feelings, and suddenly everything looks even more grim than it did before? You must know the feeling.

You might rather not answer that, all right. But you know it, and we know it, and he knows it very, very well. 'God', you say, because you don't know any better, but you really shouldn't bring Her up, 'is there nothing he can do? Can't the angel help him?'

Well, of course he can. It takes him a while, granted, because the goobers don't talk, but he figures it out. He sees the pain, and the restless sleep, the wincing and shaking, sometimes he sees the hint of tears in his eyes. So he decides to help, because that's all he can do, and luckily that's the thing he's good at. He knows he has to take his demon away from it all, and he knows he can only do that by taking his hand and going the first step.

'What does he do?!', you ask, overeager. We were just about to tell you that. This is a story with a happy ending, after all, even if it is about ghosts. You just have to be patient.

It takes him a lot of convincing. A lot of talking, and smiling, and soft hugs and holding hands. There's a lot of arguments against his idea of help that the demon can think up. Leaving behind the city is no small feat, especially not for an angel who's made his home there for centuries. He doesn't want him to feel pressured, or to get bored, or to feel bad for him so much.

But then the angel shows him a lovely little cottage he's bought, and the garden that sits behind it, and the forest and the beach and all the other calm, quiet, empty places they can visit. And the angel tells him that he wants to be there with him, that he can go back to visit London whenever he wants, but he can't live with a demon that's in so much pain, and that it's more than a fair trade-off to make him feel safe again. To live without ghosts.

'So they do that?' You're smiling now, because you think that's the end of the story. 'They go and live happily ever after in their new cottage?' Well, not quite.

'Oh come on!' Now don't go being annoyed again like you were at the beginning. The story is not quite over. They have forever left, after all, and they had quite a lot of time to collect ghosts before this.

There will always be ghosts. They're riding on his coat tails (although technically, he doesn't have those anymore, the angel in his old-fashioned outfit has), and they'll go with him wherever he goes. But they are tiny – they have to be, to cling on – and don't have much fighting power to come up, not when he's sitting in front of a fireplace with a mug of cocoa in his hand and an angel in his lap reading good stories to him. Not when he's working in the garden, when he knows he's being watched through loving eyes that are making ice cold lemonade for him in the kitchen. And even if they manage to climb all the way up, from his coat tails to his head, their whispers in his ears are far, far more quiet than the angel's soft whispers as they go to sleep in their comfy, duvet-covered bed.

And that's how the story ends, because it doesn't. It only gets better.

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

Rate that character! (Rescue bots edition)

Disclaimer:Since my post got more than 10 likes, ill be doing a review on the bots of rescue bots! Since theres a 10 picture limit, ill be doing JUST the bots in this post. With that out of the way, lets go!

Heatwave!

Heatwave, leader of the autobots. Big red hot boy, ready to kick ass, take names, and love babies. Snarky boy who is constantly ready to throw hands at any second and will defend his family. He takes no shit, neither will his team. Cares but will only admit it via threats. Secretly very stressed.

10/10 good boy that will fuck you up with no hesitation. The kind your parents don't want you to be with, but learn to love, given time. Great in berth.

Boulder!

Engineer of the group. Smart, strong boy that likes to draw. Not to be confused with tfa Bulkhead, as this one was generally smart, while tfa Bulkhead was more proficient in groundbridge building. Likes birds, flowers, drawing, most human things. Fan of nerdy jokes and supporting his friends. Honest boy

9/10. The pedes fuck me up everytime, its like hes earing Cybertroinian crocs. Petty, but my rating system. Overall you wanna bring this one home to the folks.

Chase!

Everyones favorite cop bot. Looks like hes all about beating up bad dudes, but is such a goober. Jokes go over his helm, but he tries to be funny. Tries so hard to do good, take things too seriously. Has good intentions, follows his spark. Is so the best study buddy you can ask for. Not a creative mech, but it doesn't stop him from trying. Is so underappreciated. Most likely makes odd purchases online.

10/10. Has such good lines, and is underestimated in his kindness for others. Also bot you wanna take home to the folks.

Blades!

Possibly everyones favorite character. Ironically hates flying, but does it for the team. Can't handle stress easily, but does shit for everyone else's sake. Makes most (if not all) the media references in the series. Would rather eat ice cream and watch cupcake hoarders than go on rescues. Has self esteem issues, needs constant validation. Can be selfish, but he learns from his mistakes.

9.5/10. I love him, but the selfish moments knocks him down a pinch. Calm down baby, world isnt ending! Bring him home to your parents after hes had a few hours to panic.

Optimus Prime!

Wiser than his TFA & TFP version, this Optimus is essentially the yoda of the group. Knows best, is such a good support and role model. Has faith in his boys. Knows what hes doing, at least 98% of the time. Humble as shit. Sees the glass as half full.

9/10. Crazy hot in this version? But him kiiinda choosing to ignore Heatwave sometimes makes him come off as kinda dick ish. Kinda. If your folks are cool with you dating a silver fox, definitely bring this one home.

Blurr!

Speedster if the group. Like Smokescreen in TFP, you wanna punch him in the face first. Pretty boy that comes at you way too fast, immediate asshole impression. Fucks up a lot. Acts before thinking. Ultimately cares. Kinda fuckboy-ish, but hes sweet at some other moments. Has untapped potential. You learn to like him, even if he's kinda dense. Also a unique look for a long standing character.

9/10. Blurr's spark is in a good place, and he has had GREAT character development, but im a bit tfa Blurr biased. At least this one didn't die. Bring home to your parents if you want, but it'll take a LONG time for him to cut his bullshit. But he'll make himself worth it. Kinda selfish in some moments.

Salvage!

Big chonk. Big, burly, boy with a southern tongue. Wants to help. Will help fix stuff around your house if you call him over. Clever boy, hates throwing things away. Likes to scavenge for nicknacks. Easy to buy for. Sometimes his inventions go haywal, but he gets all the points for trying. Probably collects odd things.

10/10. Cute chunkies with accents kill me. Plus he tries so hard for his friends. Even for Blurr, who was gonna leave him to fucking die.

Quickshadow!

Spy fem! Is gorgeous. Will insult your face in the slyest way possible, then punch it after. Calm, cool, james bond in training. Clever british. Thinks she knows best, but needs support. Never thinks of a back up plan. Didn't get enough love as she should've. Is cool and knows it

9/10. Id do 10/10 if i got to know her a bit more. Take her home to the folks, just be weary. She might boast about herself, under the impression shes being factual. Be supportive, and she'll return the favor.

Servo!

Goodest boy. Beep beep beep. Is handy, eager to help. Cutest boy on the team. Multitool all wrapped in a good boy bundle. Give him pets and love him. Will love you forever. Pls dont scold him.

10/10. Goodest boy. Robo dogs so pure

Hightide!

Commander of the seas!(and my heart). Old, irish (or scottish. Or maybe im stupid) bastard. Is great with kids, probably has some of his own. Gives shit when hes trying to make you better. Will tease you. Is down to party, often doesnt think of his affects on others. Firm handed. Will accidentally make you feel like shit, but is quick to try again in his mistakes. Sexy as hell.

10/10. Im weak for older, burly bots who talk to me like he would. Wish he had more attention.

[smokeybrandreviews]

Smokey brand Movie Reviews: Subtext

So i saw Cats. I had to know if it really was as bad as everyone says. It is. It’s terrible. It’s literally one of the worst films i have have ever seen but for different reasons than publicized. I plan to describe every short coming this film proudly presents, at length. Before we get into why it’s so goddamn awful, there are certain things that deserve recognition.

The Good

Cats is kind of ambitious. I like that they decided to build actual sets to scale. There is a sense of realness to this world and you have to this movie that i didn’t expect.

The actual effects on the cats, themselves, are pretty legit once you get outside of that uncanny valley. Like, the process to create those fur suits was ridiculous. It’s every bit as impressive as what Cameron did with Avatar. The theory of those cats i mean.

Francesca Hayward is pretty dope in this. She’s a great singer, brilliant dancer, and absolutely gorgeous. If this were a play, it would have been dope. If they would have used actual makeup and sh*t, it wold have been dope. choosing the way they decoded to present this sh*t? A waste. This was a waste of Francesca’s talent.

Jennifer Hudson singing Memory was f*cking incredible. I’m told the version she sang on one of those reality talent shows was much better, so i googled it, and it was. So much better. Still, the one they decided to film was decent. Hudson is one of the best singers of her generation and Memory has ample opportunity to belt out them emotional notes.

You can tell Tom Hooper had a passion for this material. Like, he wanted to make this grandiose film based on the garish play. That’s going to come back to bite him in the ass overall, but it’s nice to see a director making something that the actually loves.

The Bad

Literally everything else. his entire film is, quite literally, one of the worst films i have ever seen in my entire life. There is just SO much wrong with this thing. So goddamn much. Every decision made during this production was wrong and it’s kind of amazing.

First and foremost, why the f*ck did they choose to portray the Cats the way that did? These things are HIDEOUS! I mean, uncanny valley, for sure, but i’ve seen enough films and played enough games not to be unnerved by bad graphics. But this? this sh*t is so much more than that. These little cat people things are unforgivably odious in so many ways. I’m not going to get into the way they have people hands or can’t decide to be bipedal or how ridiculous they look on all fours. No, my thing is the way the faces are integrated into the fur suit. That’s not makeup. It’s legit CG. They tried to emulate the Cats Broadway makeup in a more realistic way and it misses the mark by a long shot. They’re gross. Gross and weird. Your main characters are gross and weird to look at.

Bro, these cats are constantly f*cking Like, all of the time. It’s not outright but you can tell they are constantly making with the coitus, figuratively. I’m pretty sure there’s a catnip fuels orgy there toward the end? Middle? i don’t know. I thought maybe it was just, you know, Hooper being cheeky in the beginning but then Jason Derulo, f*cking Rum Tum Tugger, shows up and just simulates the f*ck while Rebel Wilson cat, quite literally, makes overtly objectifying about Tugger’s tugger. It’s gross and weird.

Everything is washed in neon lights and i don’t understand why. The majority of this film supposed to take place at night so it make sense that there would be neon signs and everything but. even indoors, during that big Taylor Swift number, fluorescent neon lights. It’s unnerving and grates on the eyes, man. You put in all this work to create these detailed sets and thing but then immediately erased the detail by saturating it in artificial, scathingly colored, light? Really, dude?

There is no substance to this film. There is no character growth, no pathos, no stakes. Nothing. It’s a bunch of dance numbers introducing a bunch of asshole cats, looking to be ritually murdered. That’s it. That’s the entire plot. One cat wants to be murdered more than all the others so he’s kidnapping the competition to be the only option left for sacrifice. That’s stupid when you hear it like that, right? Because it is. Cats is stupid. Giving it that big budget, Hollywood Oscar bait treatment doesn’t change any of that stupid. The play Cats is fundamentally retarded so how could the movie version not be? I hate films that never grow, that never have resolution but this sh*t doesn’t even have anything to resolve. It’s a literal waste of time and my time is actually valuable.

Im not going to get into the many, many, MANY plot contrivances because then i’d have to actually think about this movie instead of just referencing the notes i already took down. I did the work beforehand and i do not want to revisit this feline hellscape any time ever. That said, nothing makes f*cking sense in this move. There are Jellical cats, magic cats, gangster cats, thief cats; it’s all over the place. Motherf*ckers are in cahoots with the main villain cat and when the does a villainous thing, they are all, “ We didn’t know he was a villain.” Really? Magic cat is magic but literally doesn’t us it until the plot absolutely demands it making that use that cat the definition of deus ex machina. Like, they’re not even clever about it. It’s actually insulting how blatant it is.

Interesting enough, outside of Memory, the music in this musical is forgettable. I can’t name one song from this thing that sticks with me. I still remember the first few lines to the opening song of Sweeney Todd. I can sing to you the colors of the wind. Hakuna Matata means no worries. I can show you the world. We’re of to see the wizard. I bet you know those songs. Bet you don’t even know the original track Swift and Webber wrote for this fart of a film.

The writing in this thing is f*cking putrid, man. The source material is sh*t and i didn’t expect anything great from an adaption but this? I expected more than this. Nothing makes sense. The dialogue is, one could say stylized but i’d say it’s dumb. This sh*t is dumb. Nothing feels organic, especially at the end. That whole situation with Judi Dench accepting Francesca James into her little weird stray cat cult was all cringe, no love. Everything said in this ridiculous movie is cringe. It’s just a goddamn cringefest! Seriously, the writing in this “movie’ is about as good as the writing in a Michael Bay flick. It’s that bad.

This movie has some of the most uninspired camera work i have ever seen in my entire life. It’s shot like a play; A single camera, centered on the shot, with no dynamism at all. There’s no pans or strafe or anything of that nature which works if you’re filming a play but this ain’t a play. It’s a film. Take Sweeney Todd for example. That’s how you make a film musical. West Side Story is another decent example. F*ck, that one movie with Gosling and Stone, La La Land? Yeah, even THAT one was shot dynamically. it was shot like a f*cking film. An even better example? the Les Miserables example. That Hooper, himself, shot! You did this once before and got Oscar for it. The f*ck happened? Yu forget hoe to make movies or something?

While i’m on Hooper, the f*ck kind of direction is any of this? It’s terrible! All of these performances, outside of Jason Derulo who was truly awful but brought a very refreshing energy to his nonsense, were uninspired. Like, they all just kind of went through the motions, you know? tom Hooper had been trying to get this film made for years and THIS was what he was able to muster? With THAT cast? are you f*cking serious??

Now, i lauded Francesca Hayward in her performance as Victoria, and that is legitimate praise, but everyone else in this thing is sh*t. Like, James as spectacular in her role, but her role is sh*t. That’s the ebb and flow of this movie. One thing is decent, but it’s mired in sh*t. James is gorgeous in real life and you see a bit of that in Victoria’s face but Victoria is a computer generated monstrosity and this movie insists upon reminding you of that every time she does anything with her face It’s weird and gross, man.

Speaking of probably brilliant performances mired by the outright sh*ttiness of the visual aesthetic in this clusterf*ck masquerading as cinema, i’m pretty sure Rebel Wilson has a beautiful voice. I wouldn’t know for sure because they limited her character to kind of a terrible lounge lizard set piece full of cockroaches and baby mice. I got a whole eyeful of her cat puss though. Thanks for that, assholes.

Another anecdotal performance that it thought might have been really good belonged to Idris Elba but i think his shortcoming had more to do with the character writing that screen time. Elba is almost always brilliant in any role he accepts and dude is musically incline, Elba was once a DJ and raps wonderfully if you didn’t know, so i can see them throwing a hip-hop curve to Macavity that could have worked if approached with respectful aplomb. Nope. This motherf*cker is a campy goober in a fur coat and a derby. Macavity is the main villain if this entire bullsh*t and i’m supposed to be afraid of him when he looks like a brown, nude, 70s style pimp with cat ears? For Real?

Jame Corden is the goddamn worst. That’s it. That’s the grievance. James Corden is the goddamn worst.

Why was Jason Derulo in this? He’s a singer, not a film actor, which is easier than being a theater actor. Dude just acts like he’s in a music video. Like, i’m watching his little set pieces or whatever and all i see is 90s Usher, dancing to My Way or some sh*t.

Why was Taylor Swift in this movie? I mean, i know why. They promised her a chance to win win an Oscar with an original song, that’s why. Hooper thought this thing was going to sweep the Oscars but this it sh*t the bed in theaters. it probably should have sh*t Swift out before production, though. She’s kind of awful.

And then there’s the two most egregious offenses in this entire film; The casting of Dame Judi Dench and Sir Ian McKellen. These are Actors. They are Oscar caliber talent, Dench winning several while McKellen being nominated twice. Both of these individuals have a background IN theater. Hell, Dame Dench was cast as Girsabella in the original 80s run but had to drop out due to injury! They live this life! How are they so goddamn awful in this movie??

The Verdict

I said this in the beginning but Cats is one of the worst films i have ever seen in my entire f*cking life. I feel like there were more decent performances in this thing, Idris Elba was probably fantastic, bit the material the had to perform and the god-awful cat effects just wash over anything these actors can possibly do. Who is this for? Why are all of these cats so f*cking horny? What was the point of this aimless journey Hooper took us on? There are no answer for anything, which is hilarious, because this movie asks no questions. It asks nothing of the audience. It just kind of happens to you. I reference the writing being as terrible as a Michael Bay film but Cats IS a Michael Bay film. If you replace the dance numbers with explosions or creepy shots of Francesca Hayward’s butt, and it’s Revenge of the Fallen. Straight up Bayhem in a fur suit.

Cats is vapid, superficial, and insists upon itself. This movie thinks it’s more than what it is and believes it should be recognized when, in reality, it’s lowest common denominator film making and should be forgotten. This thing was constructed to swoon over the Academy but it ends up grossing out the audience. Cats is hollow and a waste of time while being one of the most visually revolting experiences i have ever had the displeasure of enduring. Do not watch this film unless you want to be angry you wasted damn near two hours of your time. Also, it’s ugly.

[smokeybrand]

Smokey brand Movie Reviews: Subtext

So i saw Cats. I had to know if it really was as bad as everyone says. It is. It’s terrible. It’s literally one of the worst films i have have ever seen but for different reasons than publicized. I plan to describe every short coming this film proudly presents, at length. Before we get into why it’s so goddamn awful, there are certain things that deserve recognition.

The Good

Cats is kind of ambitious. I like that they decided to build actual sets to scale. There is a sense of realness to this world and you have to this movie that i didn’t expect.

The actual effects on the cats, themselves, are pretty legit once you get outside of that uncanny valley. Like, the process to create those fur suits was ridiculous. It’s every bit as impressive as what Cameron did with Avatar. The theory of those cats i mean.

Francesca Hayward is pretty dope in this. She’s a great singer, brilliant dancer, and absolutely gorgeous. If this were a play, it would have been dope. If they would have used actual makeup and sh*t, it wold have been dope. choosing the way they decoded to present this sh*t? A waste. This was a waste of Francesca’s talent.

Jennifer Hudson singing Memory was f*cking incredible. I’m told the version she sang on one of those reality talent shows was much better, so i googled it, and it was. So much better. Still, the one they decided to film was decent. Hudson is one of the best singers of her generation and Memory has ample opportunity to belt out them emotional notes.

You can tell Tom Hooper had a passion for this material. Like, he wanted to make this grandiose film based on the garish play. That’s going to come back to bite him in the ass overall, but it’s nice to see a director making something that the actually loves.

The Bad

Literally everything else. his entire film is, quite literally, one of the worst films i have ever seen in my entire life. There is just SO much wrong with this thing. So goddamn much. Every decision made during this production was wrong and it’s kind of amazing.

First and foremost, why the f*ck did they choose to portray the Cats the way that did? These things are HIDEOUS! I mean, uncanny valley, for sure, but i’ve seen enough films and played enough games not to be unnerved by bad graphics. But this? this sh*t is so much more than that. These little cat people things are unforgivably odious in so many ways. I’m not going to get into the way they have people hands or can’t decide to be bipedal or how ridiculous they look on all fours. No, my thing is the way the faces are integrated into the fur suit. That’s not makeup. It’s legit CG. They tried to emulate the Cats Broadway makeup in a more realistic way and it misses the mark by a long shot. They’re gross. Gross and weird. Your main characters are gross and weird to look at.

Bro, these cats are constantly f*cking Like, all of the time. It’s not outright but you can tell they are constantly making with the coitus, figuratively. I’m pretty sure there’s a catnip fuels orgy there toward the end? Middle? i don’t know. I thought maybe it was just, you know, Hooper being cheeky in the beginning but then Jason Derulo, f*cking Rum Tum Tugger, shows up and just simulates the f*ck while Rebel Wilson cat, quite literally, makes overtly objectifying about Tugger’s tugger. It’s gross and weird.

Everything is washed in neon lights and i don’t understand why. The majority of this film supposed to take place at night so it make sense that there would be neon signs and everything but. even indoors, during that big Taylor Swift number, fluorescent neon lights. It’s unnerving and grates on the eyes, man. You put in all this work to create these detailed sets and thing but then immediately erased the detail by saturating it in artificial, scathingly colored, light? Really, dude?

There is no substance to this film. There is no character growth, no pathos, no stakes. Nothing. It’s a bunch of dance numbers introducing a bunch of asshole cats, looking to be ritually murdered. That’s it. That’s the entire plot. One cat wants to be murdered more than all the others so he’s kidnapping the competition to be the only option left for sacrifice. That’s stupid when you hear it like that, right? Because it is. Cats is stupid. Giving it that big budget, Hollywood Oscar bait treatment doesn’t change any of that stupid. The play Cats is fundamentally retarded so how could the movie version not be? I hate films that never grow, that never have resolution but this sh*t doesn’t even have anything to resolve. It’s a literal waste of time and my time is actually valuable.

Im not going to get into the many, many, MANY plot contrivances because then i’d have to actually think about this movie instead of just referencing the notes i already took down. I did the work beforehand and i do not want to revisit this feline hellscape any time ever. That said, nothing makes f*cking sense in this move. There are Jellical cats, magic cats, gangster cats, thief cats; it’s all over the place. Motherf*ckers are in cahoots with the main villain cat and when the does a villainous thing, they are all, “ We didn’t know he was a villain.” Really? Magic cat is magic but literally doesn’t us it until the plot absolutely demands it making that use that cat the definition of deus ex machina. Like, they’re not even clever about it. It’s actually insulting how blatant it is.

Interesting enough, outside of Memory, the music in this musical is forgettable. I can’t name one song from this thing that sticks with me. I still remember the first few lines to the opening song of Sweeney Todd. I can sing to you the colors of the wind. Hakuna Matata means no worries. I can show you the world. We’re of to see the wizard. I bet you know those songs. Bet you don’t even know the original track Swift and Webber wrote for this fart of a film.

The writing in this thing is f*cking putrid, man. The source material is sh*t and i didn’t expect anything great from an adaption but this? I expected more than this. Nothing makes sense. The dialogue is, one could say stylized but i’d say it’s dumb. This sh*t is dumb. Nothing feels organic, especially at the end. That whole situation with Judi Dench accepting Francesca James into her little weird stray cat cult was all cringe, no love. Everything said in this ridiculous movie is cringe. It’s just a goddamn cringefest! Seriously, the writing in this “movie’ is about as good as the writing in a Michael Bay flick. It’s that bad.

This movie has some of the most uninspired camera work i have ever seen in my entire life. It’s shot like a play; A single camera, centered on the shot, with no dynamism at all. There’s no pans or strafe or anything of that nature which works if you’re filming a play but this ain’t a play. It’s a film. Take Sweeney Todd for example. That’s how you make a film musical. West Side Story is another decent example. F*ck, that one movie with Gosling and Stone, La La Land? Yeah, even THAT one was shot dynamically. it was shot like a f*cking film. An even better example? the Les Miserables example. That Hooper, himself, shot! You did this once before and got Oscar for it. The f*ck happened? Yu forget hoe to make movies or something?

While i’m on Hooper, the f*ck kind of direction is any of this? It’s terrible! All of these performances, outside of Jason Derulo who was truly awful but brought a very refreshing energy to his nonsense, were uninspired. Like, they all just kind of went through the motions, you know? tom Hooper had been trying to get this film made for years and THIS was what he was able to muster? With THAT cast? are you f*cking serious??

Now, i lauded Francesca Hayward in her performance as Victoria, and that is legitimate praise, but everyone else in this thing is sh*t. Like, James as spectacular in her role, but her role is sh*t. That’s the ebb and flow of this movie. One thing is decent, but it’s mired in sh*t. James is gorgeous in real life and you see a bit of that in Victoria’s face but Victoria is a computer generated monstrosity and this movie insists upon reminding you of that every time she does anything with her face It’s weird and gross, man.

Speaking of probably brilliant performances mired by the outright sh*ttiness of the visual aesthetic in this clusterf*ck masquerading as cinema, i’m pretty sure Rebel Wilson has a beautiful voice. I wouldn’t know for sure because they limited her character to kind of a terrible lounge lizard set piece full of cockroaches and baby mice. I got a whole eyeful of her cat puss though. Thanks for that, assholes.

Another anecdotal performance that it thought might have been really good belonged to Idris Elba but i think his shortcoming had more to do with the character writing that screen time. Elba is almost always brilliant in any role he accepts and dude is musically incline, Elba was once a DJ and raps wonderfully if you didn’t know, so i can see them throwing a hip-hop curve to Macavity that could have worked if approached with respectful aplomb. Nope. This motherf*cker is a campy goober in a fur coat and a derby. Macavity is the main villain if this entire bullsh*t and i’m supposed to be afraid of him when he looks like a brown, nude, 70s style pimp with cat ears? For Real?

Jame Corden is the goddamn worst. That’s it. That’s the grievance. James Corden is the goddamn worst.

Why was Jason Derulo in this? He’s a singer, not a film actor, which is easier than being a theater actor. Dude just acts like he’s in a music video. Like, i’m watching his little set pieces or whatever and all i see is 90s Usher, dancing to My Way or some sh*t.

Why was Taylor Swift in this movie? I mean, i know why. They promised her a chance to win win an Oscar with an original song, that’s why. Hooper thought this thing was going to sweep the Oscars but this it sh*t the bed in theaters. it probably should have sh*t Swift out before production, though. She’s kind of awful.

And then there’s the two most egregious offenses in this entire film; The casting of Dame Judi Dench and Sir Ian McKellen. These are Actors. They are Oscar caliber talent, Dench winning several while McKellen being nominated twice. Both of these individuals have a background IN theater. Hell, Dame Dench was cast as Girsabella in the original 80s run but had to drop out due to injury! They live this life! How are they so goddamn awful in this movie??

The Verdict

I said this in the beginning but Cats is one of the worst films i have ever seen in my entire f*cking life. I feel like there were more decent performances in this thing, Idris Elba was probably fantastic, bit the material the had to perform and the god-awful cat effects just wash over anything these actors can possibly do. Who is this for? Why are all of these cats so f*cking horny? What was the point of this aimless journey Hooper took us on? There are no answer for anything, which is hilarious, because this movie asks no questions. It asks nothing of the audience. It just kind of happens to you. I reference the writing being as terrible as a Michael Bay film but Cats IS a Michael Bay film. If you replace the dance numbers with explosions or creepy shots of Francesca Hayward’s butt, and it’s Revenge of the Fallen. Straight up Bayhem in a fur suit.

Cats is vapid, superficial, and insists upon itself. This movie thinks it’s more than what it is and believes it should be recognized when, in reality, it’s lowest common denominator film making and should be forgotten. This thing was constructed to swoon over the Academy but it ends up grossing out the audience. Cats is hollow and a waste of time while being one of the most visually revolting experiences i have ever had the displeasure of enduring. Do not watch this film unless you want to be angry you wasted damn near two hours of your time. Also, it’s ugly.

[lihikainanea]

Tiger getting drunk and laying on the couch and she’s all heart eyes for her boy but he’s out grabbing groceries. She calls him and is slurring every word but he just listens to her mumbling nonsense while he grabs food for her. :,)

oh god I am SO FUCKIN SOFF FOR THIS.

Listen. Listen, bubs. Let’s add another layer to this, alright? Let’s even just go ahead and say poor tiger is riding the crimson wave and she’s in pain and all needy about it.

Maybe homegirl had a big win this week, a big work project that came through or a raise or a promotion or even just some nice words from some higher up at her job when she completed a project. She was stoked about it, but a Wednesday night is a weird night to celebrate so they saved it for Saturday. (For the record, I think every day is a great day to celebrate. Any excuse to have champagne, really.)

And Bill’s a big sap for his Little Human so you know he planned it to start early. And while he also had plans Friday night to ensure he banged her brains out so good that she could barely walk Saturday, the poor kid came schlepping home Friday night, already doubled over in pain, miserable and shivering.

“What’s wrong, kid?” he coos at her, running his hands over her arms as she thunked her forehead on his chest.

“I got my period,” she mumbles, “I wasn’t due for another week, but surprise motherfucker.”

He makes a sympathetic noise, plops a kiss on her head.

“I hurt everywhere,” she says pitifully. He wraps her up in a hug, lifts her so she can wrap her legs around his waist.

“Let’s fix that, then,” he says as he kisses her cheek. So his plans to ruin her were swapped out instead for a bubble bath, his giant sweatshirt and a pair of comfy sweatpants for her, a hot water bottle, lots of cuddles, some good food and some wine, and nearly an entire kilogram bag of gummy bears before she eventually just passed out on his chest. He carried her to bed, settling her under the covers before scooting out to refill her hot water bottle for her.

But listen tiger woke up the next day warm and snuggly, the ever present ache in her lower belly still present but much better now. Bill’s thumb was tucked in her mouth and even though she was awake she made no effort to remove it, in fact she just wrapped her hand around his wrist to hold it there. His chest was flush against her back, hot as a furnace, his long legs tucked up comfortably under hers. His arm is wrapped tight around her, across her rib cage and up between her breasts. She’s just...cocooned in his warmth, and when he feels her start to wake he pulls her closer, nuzzles his scratchy chin onto her shoulder.

“Morning sweet girl,” he purrs, all raspy and deep, “You feeling okay?”

She whimpers a little but it’s a happy, satisfied one--scooting her ass back into him and curling up a little smaller so he’d hug her tighter. It works. She nods her head, still keeping a hold of his thumb in her mouth.

“Are you in pain?” he asks, and she shivers a little when he lays a soft kiss on her shoulder, runs his scratchy jaw up her neck and kisses her earlobe.

She shakes her head.

“Good,” he whispers, settling back on his pillow and sniffing her hair, “Pinch me when you want your coffee.”

And they stay like that, a real lazy morning. He drifts in and out of sleep, until he feels her playfully nip his thumb still nestled in her mouth. He smirks but doesn’t move, and a few seconds later, she bites it with a little more intent. Chuckling, he raises up and kisses her cheek, giving her butt a playful tap.

“Alright, I get it,” he laughs.

But like, listen. Bill had full intentions of making this a weekend celebration, full of all of her favourite things. So not only does he bring her coffee, but he also brings in a bottle of pretty expensive champagne with two chilled flutes.

“What’s this?” she asks, as she sits up.

“This is to celebrate my girl, in all of her bad assery,” he says. He makes a show of popping the cork, handing her the two glasses to hold while he pours it out. I’ll bet he even playfully splashes some of the cold liquid “accidentally” on her chest while her hands are occupied, diving forward to lick it up from between her breasts.

“Oops,” he mumbles playfully against her lips, “My bad.”

Tiger’s got a pretty high alcohol tolerance but bubbles will do it for her every time. So by the time he’s ready to get breakfast on, she’s probably already a little tipsy. But she winces as she goes to stand up, because shit her stomach is starting to cramp up again and her lower back is pretty sore. Bill swoops down and picks her up, grabs her hot water bottle from the bed, and carts her to the kitchen so she can keep him company. He sets her down on the counter, refills her hot water bottle and tucks it against her abdomen, stealing a kiss.

And she’s just feeling so good and safe you know? He took such good care of her last night, he’s still taking care of her this morning and he’s just standing there all tall and shit, saying things like how proud he is of her. Tiger’s buzzed and so soft about it.

And while he usually knows her schedule and knows when to stock up on her favourites, this round came early so he wasn’t prepared. And he needs to slip out after breakfast just to get some stuff--he doesn’t have anymore of her favourite ice cream and he knows she’ll be looking for it later. He hadn’t anticipated that she’d eat the whole kilogram of gummy bears last night so he needs more of those too. He ran out of Midol for her, and needs to pick up a few more iron-rich foods to incorporate into dinner tonight to help her feel better.

She wants to stay glued to his side but the thought of getting dressed and going out are just pretty daunting right now, so he sets her up on the couch with a movie, a warm blanket--and some more champagne. He gives her a big, lingering smooch and tells her he’ll be back in an hour.

He doesn’t make it in the car for 10 minutes before she’s calling him.

“Hey kid,” he greets, “Everything okay?”

“Hi uh...yeah. I just...I...” she’s mumbling and man he can hear that she’s small for him just by her voice. He smiles--she’s usually a big goober when he takes care of her but he knows the addition of her cycle and how big of a week it was for her is just really compounding it all. And he loves it. My god, he loves it when she gets like this.

“Do you miss me already?” he smiles. He tries to keep his tone playful without being mocking--mocking, hell just light teasing, would cut her too deep when she’s like this.

“No,” she mutters, and then a pause, “....maybe.”

She stops to hiccup and he laughs.

“I’m not far, kid. I usually have all the stuff you like on hand and you’re like clockwork, but this one caught me by surprise,” he’s babbling but he’s just doing it so that she can listen to his voice, “I need your ice cream, and some more gummy bears. Do you want the regular ones or the sour ones?”

Silence for a second. He clues in.

“Or both?”

“Both, please,” she says, and then he hears her sniffle just a tad, “You always take such good care of me.”

God his heart clenches.

“I love taking care of you, tiger,” he said, “It makes me feel really good, too.”

“You’re just so good to me,” she continues, “You always know what I need even before I do. And you always smell so good and you’re so warm and your hugs are the best because your arms are really long and you squeeze me extra tight, and you always--always--do that thing where you hug me tighter as I go to pull away.”

He parks in the lot of the store, smiling shyly to himself as he grabs his phone and keeps it to his ear.

“And you let me do that weird thing that I like doing even when I don’t realize I’m doing it and you don’t make me feel bad or weird about it. What kind of adult still sucks their thumb?”

“I love it when you suck my thumb, kid,” he says, “It’s so goddamn cute.”

“it’s weird but you still let me do it. And the way you sometimes drag me closer when I’m sleeping, I just wake up and you’re pulling me closer and tucking me more into you and it’s really nice.”

He stops for a second, because shit he didn’t realize that she knew he did that.

“And you’re a good kisser,” she keeps babbling, slurring a little and pausing every now and then to hiccup, “Your lips are always so soft and you take your time, you don’t shove your tongue down my throat and you just take it slow and it makes me think you enjoy it too.”

He’s motoring through the store now, because fuck all he wants it to just be back home and tuck her into his arms.

“I do enjoy it. I love kissing you, kid. Could do it all day,” he says.

“Are you almost home?” she says pitifully. God he almost throws the cart to the side, abandoning everything just to run back to her.

“Almost kid, just paying now,” he says.

And once he’s back in the car he just guns it home, going full speed. He throws the car haphazardly into the driveway and bounds up the steps. When he unlocks the door she’s curled up there where he left her, all small and bundled up in the corner of the couch. Her eyes are still a little glassy, a little unfocused from the champagne, but he just kneels in front of her, takes her face gently in his hands, and leans forward to kiss her. It’s slow and soft but intense, deep, lingering as she whimpers against his mouth and he pulls her in closer. When he breaks apart he licks his lips, lets out a slight laugh of disbelief, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against hers.

“Yeah,” she whispers reverently, “You do that really well.”

“All day, kid,” he murmurs.