#remains funny to me when only one person from a band is submitted

[smashorpassgilf]

Morten Harket from a-ha

[dovenymph]

a film by peter parker

authors note: this was inspired by another thinkerpete tweet that read "peter probably watches the bit from "a film by peter parker" where he's in the car with tony over and over when he misses him" and@peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology’s summer of love prompt list💛💛 also the video edit was made by me so please do not screen record/save and repost it even if you do credit me (also this is unedited so sorry for any typos, i’ll probably go through it sometime this week, i just wanted to post it first)

prompts used: 2. making the backyard/rooftop into a movie theater

my masterlist

warnings: mentions of tony’s death, other than that, nothing but fluff

word count: 3.9k

Peter hated the summer.

Peter hated not having anything to busy himself with; no homework, or academic decathlon, or seeing Ned everyday who could wrap him up in his graphic novel fan theories or the drama in his on and off relationship with Betty. It was petty drama and minor stimulation, but it was something to distract him momentarily. But now Ned was in Aruba with his parents for the entire month which meant Peter had to suffer through the scorching heat of Juy all by himself.

Peter knew he didn’t have to be alone each day, -Aunt May had spent many dinners trying to get him to join her at the movies or the mall, even offering to let him have free reign of the lego store (when he said no to that, she knew he was in worse shape than she thought)- he had a handful of trustworthy and dependable friends he could hang out with for the afternoon like MJ and Betty, or even Flash who had been uncharacteristically nice to Peter ever since he found out he was Spiderman; this having happened only a few weeks after Tony had died and Peter had let him in on his secret to console a sobbing Eugene who, honestly, seemed to be more broken up about the news than Peter was. But even with his expanding friend group, Peter had found the most his body could endure was the contents of his bedroom.

He tried to get back out there after Tony’s passing, he really did, but at the first Iron Man tribute he admired on patrol, his body completely shut down and he swung back home, tears dampening the material of the mask.

So a lonely summer was what Peter submitted himself too, and he’s come to terms with it. He’s rewatched his favorite old shows, started binging some new ones. He’s taken apart and put together his lego death star four times now, each time faster than the last. But he’s been particularly fond of staring out the window. His apartment complex was quite close to the building besides his and he could look down into the backyard everyone had to share. Peter’s building had one as well, but since he was pretty sure he was the only person under 35 who lived there, it went unused.

Next door, there was always a different activity occurring in order for the patrons to beat the heat, and Peter often thought about how easy it would be for him to just go downstairs and introduce himself, and ask to join. It’d really be as simple as that and he’d meet some new people, get a free lunch and a chance to swim in the plastic pool they set up; maybe they’d laugh at his jokes and clap when he did flips, but it was all just a maybe, just in his imagination because his brain never let him wander to far before squandering the idea of getting close to someone again, for if history has taught Peter anything, it's that anything he gets close to, is not meant to stay for long and will be soon snatched away from him in the cruelest of ways.

And this thought is what resigns him to slink back behind his window and pout the day away, as he was doing now, vision blurring as he stared at nothing.

“Hey!”

Peter jumped, his eyes focusing on the target of whoever pelted his window and they landed on your form, slumped against your open windowsill, chin resting on your hand as you gazed back at him.

“Can I help you?” Peter bit back after lifting his window half way, his tone unconsciously laced with annoyance. He really didn’t even notice it anymore since that’s how he’s been speaking to everyone in his life for months now, but when you flinched at his tone, guilt started to creep up his spine.

Before he could ever begin to stumble out an apology, you cut him off “Yeah, is there a reason you stare into my room everyday?”

Peter's face flushed red and he opened and closed his mouth like a fish. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had spoken so bluntly towards him, and honestly, he liked it. He was getting tired of everyone walking on tiptoes around him, he just wanted things to go back to how they were, where he was just Peter Parker, your friendly neighborhood student.

“Or could you at least give me some money for some curtains if you just can’t give up the beautiful view of a concrete wall?”

“S-sorry, I- I didn’t even know you were there.”

Lie.

Peter knew you were there, he always knew when you were there.

Peter Parker isn’t a stalker, though! Sure, he’s gone through some fucked up shit on Earth and in space, so yeah, he wouldn’t call himself the most …sane person he knows, but he really wasn’t a creep. With your buildings being so close and your rooms directly across from one anothers, he was bound to notice you at some point.

And at some point he did. It was the first day of summer and Midtown let out at 12 instead of 3 to mark the occasion, so Peter had been mulling about in his room for quite some time already, thinking about how he heard all his classmates amazing summer plans and how the farthest he was going to go was probably the Thai restaurant down the street, and even that was a maybe. Peter sulked in silence until a couple hours later he heard a door slam closed, thumps from things being tossed on the ground, and a loud groan as he peeked through his windowsill at you who was currently flopped on the bed, window wide open without a care, scrolling on your phone.

At first, he was taken aback by your beauty, a small, small feeling of intrigue spiked his system, but it flew under the radar due to the seemingly everlasting dread that’s been weighing down on Peter's shoulders for months. But he couldn’t look away. You’d been doing nothing but looking at tiktoks mindlessly, occasionally cracking a half smile if a video was particularly amusing, but you still remained cemented to your mattress with no plans on moving anytime soon.

This brought comfort to Peter as he fished his phone out from the bottom of his bag and pulled up Ned’s messages and started to look through the media he sent him, almost two months worth of funny memes and videos that he hadn’t been bothered to look at, and he sat there along with you, aimlessly letting the time pass by. He enjoyed it, knowing he wasn’t really alone in his lazy and distracting behaviors because the pretty neighbor girl was doing just the same.

Ever since then, he’s just been …aware… of your coming and goings. He figured you had a summer job as every other day you were gone for a few hours, a solid shift. But on the days you were home, you also spent it mainly up in your room, every now and then, playing music from your record player, and if he was really lucky, you’d, unknowingly, give him a private concert as you sung out whichever niall horan or ariana grande song struck your fancy that day. He grew quite fond of the music, having added some of the regulars to his own playlist. And he enjoyed knowing you were right there, and he was right here; each of you living your lives, as uneventful as they may be, but you were together in some sort of way.

He’d never spoken to you, the ability of being able to just push his window up and call out to you at any time was what he liked, and each day he thought he’d do it but chickened out, and now it seemed like he’d have to make introductions whether he was ready or not.

“Mmm, right, so you haven’t seen me change or anything like that?” You asked and the content of your question and the inquisitive tone brought a flush to his cheeks.

“N-no! Of course not! I-I’d never do that, why would I even want to look at you? I mean! I don’t think you’re ugly or anything I… I just…”

Peter’s ramblings were cut off with your laugh as it bounced off the summer air and into his room. You were fully leaning out your open window now, and Peter had found himself in the same position, as if he was drawn to you.

“I was only joking with ya, but it's still nice to have the confirmation. I’m Y/N, your neighbor! Obviously.” You trailed off at the end, knowing that information was unnecessary since the boy next door obviously already knew that.

He was like no boy you’d ever seen before, only read about in books. He had a sweet disposition and inviting brown eyes that matched his soft chestnut hair. But he was built like a man, a strong jaw and strong arms. You’d seen him leaving his building everyday on your way to school, and when he’d get dropped off in a big black SUV during the late hours of the night, but he walked in the opposite direction or darted inside so fast,you never really got a chance to take him in.

“…Peter?” His tentative tone snapped you out of your daze and you realized he was introducing himself.

“Sorry, Peter! I- I… got distracted… by your… death star!” You let out, eyes focusing on the black and grey figure resting on his bed.

Peter felt his cheeks heat up as he moved to push it to the ground.

“That’s pretty cool! I finished the star wars series last summer.”

Peter’s eyes snapped up to yours and the friendly smile you were giving him along with the genuine interest in your tone seemed to break something inside him, snapped the band of hesitation that wrapped around his heart. “You did? For the first time?”

“Yeah! I know I’m like super late, but there’s like nine movies!”

Your laughs melded into one as you leaned out your respective windows and began talking about your favorite movie series. Peter was aware that this was unnatural for him. He had been more open to this stranger in the past few minutes than he had to his own Aunt in months and the same guilt from earlier crept up on him. But Peter was having a good time talking to you and he felt his insides turn in excitement when he realized you really had no idea who he was. He had a clean slate with you and he could make any first impression he wanted, well he hoped your first impression of him wasn’t that he was a peeping pervert, but we move, as MJ would say.

You were about to start telling Peter about this new dystopian novel you began reading when you heard a woman call out to him.

“Oh, that’s my Aunt May. She must be home from work. I- I should go say hello.” He explained, a sad look crossing his face that you didn’t quite understand.

You felt your own sadness wash over you, though. You didn’t want to stop talking to Peter either. “Yeah, of course!”

“But we can talk tomorrow right?” Peter asked, his tone laced with uncertainty.

“Oh well, I work double tomorrow… so I probably won’t be home ‘til late.” You said and the way the brown haired boys face visibly fell felt like a punch in the gut and you were scrambling for a reason to make him smile.

“B-but hey! I also get paid tomorrow so if you want, you can come over on saturday and we can have a movie night and we can order a shit ton of take out?”

“Come over to your place?” Peter asked, and he felt himsef involuntarily tense at the idea of leaving his room for the first time in weeks. It was safe in his room. But the pleading look on your face and hopefulness in your tone encouraged him to take the chance.

“I’d love to y/n.” Peter said with a soft smile and you smiled back shyly at him before closing your window and making your way out your room, making sure you were safe in the hall, away from his prying eyes to do a little happy dance.

Peter was unable to wipe the grin off his face as he walked out his room to greet his Aunt.

She heard his feet padding down the hall as she was setting out dinner, “Sorry its not ready yet, Petey, today’s been crazy, but I’ll get started now.” She rushed. Recently, she’s been hoping food’s the key to lift her poor nephews spirits, so each night she’ll either order or make something more fattening, cheesy, and delicious than the last.

“It’s alright May,” Peter let out easily as he turned the counter and placed a kiss on her cheek, “why don’t you let me cook tonight?”

May’s jaw dropped and she blinked a couple times. She could barely get two words out of Peter recently, and they were always either a meak thank you for dinner or an it was good when she asked about his day. She felt her eyes tear up at the slight sliver of her old Petey back.

“O-oh, really, you wanna cook?”

Peter ducked his head down at the ingredients in front of him to avoid looking in her eyes, his heart dropping at the glossiness that overtook them. He truly hadn’t realized how closed off he’d been. “Well, how about we do it together?” He began and the face splitting grin that spread across May’s face was all he needed to know he was taking a step in the right direction.

“G-good idea, honey. Can’t have the house burn down, can we?”

“Hey!”

May laughed and kissed Peter’s head as they began winding through the kitchen, making casual conversation. It was just like the old days, May thought. Before the wave of devastation drowned Peter as he lost a father figure, once again.

“So what did you do today, P? Do you know when Ned get’s back? I’m sure you’re both excited to see each other.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I am. I don’t know when he get’s back actually, but that’s okay-“

“I know you like your peace and quiet, I really do, but I do think it’ll be good for you to get out of the apartment for a little bit, see if Michelle is available. Oh! Or maybe that Lisa, Liz! I liked Liz, see if she’s available-“

“May! Its okay. I don’t need to hang out with Liz Allen,” Peter grumbled, “I- I made a new friend actually.”

May looked over at Peter in confusion since he hadn’t gone out or had anyone over in weeks, that she could remember; and Peter took her silence as an opportunity to continue.

“The neighbor.”

“Mrs. Wozniak?”

“No! Y/n, she lives in the next building over. And my room is right across from hers. We’re gonna hang out on saturday.”

“Oh?” May raised her brows at her nephew and bit back a smile, much to Peter’s chagrin. “Is she pretty?”

“And that’s relevant why?”

“I don’t know!!” May drawled and Peter just rolled his eyes and kept chopping the vegetables in front of him, the blush adorning his cheeks refusing to go down as he thought yes, yes she is.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

You yanked the door open as soon as you heard Peter’s knocks against it. He jumped back a bit, his arm still partially raised from when he knocked and you silently berated yourself for being so eager, but the spreading smile across his face made you feel not so bad.

“Oh, sorry, I was just-“

“It’s alright.” Peter replied with a soft smile, and you let yourself trace the golden flecks in his eyes before he cleared his throat, once again, snapping you out of a daze. You seemed to be in a dreamy state around him alot.

“Can I come in? I brought my Star Wars DVD collection by the way, I know you’ve seen them, but this one has the director's cut which I thought totally changed the course of the first trilogy!” Peter explained, rocking on the balls of his feet in excitement.

You bit your lip at the sight, his cuteness was rubbing off on you. “Yeah, that sounds great, but actually we aren’t gonna be watching in here.” You said, grabbing the bag of Chinese food and snacks and stepping out.

Peter’s face sputtered as you both walked to the stairs. He’d spent all day building up his courage to just go six feet from his building, there was no way he’d be able to go around the city with you for the fear of seeing something that’ll remind him of the avengers or crime.

“Y’alright?” You asked, noticing Peter’s stony silence as you walked down the last flight and made your way to the back gate.

“Yeah, sorry, I guess I’m just nervous. I haven’t really hung out with anyone new in a while, well, with anyone at all really.”

You smiled in sympathy, “I get you, I haven’t either. All my friends are out of town, so I’ve mostly just hung out in my room, too.”

“But you already knew that, don’t ya stalker?”

Peter rolled his eyes and shoved your arm as you laughed, glad you got his nerves out of his system. You unlocked the gate and lef Peter to the back garden.

“Woah..” Peter let out. There was a large white sheet hung up between two trees, and a projector set up on the table behind where a blanket lay, covered in a mess of pillows. The setting sun lit up by strung lightbulbs.

“You like? I figured since we both seemed to be home bodies, we could have the fun of the movie theatre, but here!”

Peter felt his heart swell at your words. You’d only known him for two days, and you already treated him with so much consideration and kindness. “I- I love it, y/n. This is amazing.”

He saw how you tucked your cheek into your shoulder in bashfulness and felt his spirits raise even higher. You were adorable.

“I’m glad you like it. I hope the projector works though, it took me forever to translate the instructions.”

Peter walked over to it and gave it a once over. “It seems fine to me, but I can always look at it if you want.”

“Oh yeah? You good with tech?”

“Good enough to get by. I needed it a lot while working with Mr. Stark” Peter began, forgetting that he wasn’t talking to an old friend.

“You worked with Tony Stark?!?”

“Oh.. oh yeah, only for a little! I was an intern.” He said quietly, beating himself up for even bringing up the topic of Tony. The last thing he wanted to do was cry in front of a pretty girl.

“Wow, that must’ve been amazing. You, you must miss him a lot then, huh?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled lifelessly. “Yeah I do.”

“But no matter, we’re here to have a good time right?”

“Yeah, yeah we are!” You grasped his hand and gave him a sympathetic squeeze -neither of you blind to the sparks that shot from the place your hands met- and got settled on the blanket.

Two and a half moves later, the sun had set and the two of you were sitting in the darkness, the only light coming from the flickering of the projector as the abandoned movie played. You and Peter were sitting cross legged, facing each other as he told you another story about working with the Avengers.

“Yeah, it was so crazy!! We were in this airport and he went from being like two inches tall to two hundred feet, it blew my mind. But it was okay though, because I had this idea-“

“Wait, wait, wait. You were there? Why?” You asked, loving every adventure filled anecdote he told you, but it wasn’t all adding up. For just an intern, he seemed incredibly close to Mr. Stark himself, but then again, you’d only known him for less than a week and you also wanted to go everywhere with him.

Peter worried his lip, thinking about how he could worm his way out of this one. Why would a teenage intern be at the Avengers civil war? He figured he could lie, or even just run away and buy black out curtains. Maybe he could convince Aunt May to switch rooms with him even. But you’d already brought so much light to his life in multiple aspects, and he thought, just maybe, you’d be able to bring light to that aspect of his life too.

“You know what, lemme just show you! Wait here, I’ll be back!”

Peter ran back down, his Chewbacca flash drive in hand, adrenaline running through his veins. He plugged it into your laptop and dug up a folder he hadn’t touched in almost eight months.

“What’s this?” You asked as he sat back down next to you.

“You’ll see.” He said, eyes glued to the screen in front of him.

A Film by Peter Parker, read the title as a compilation of videos featuring Peter, Happy, Aunt May, the Avengers, and Tony projected before you both.

Peter heard you gasp as the camera flashed to the suit, and saw, from the corner of his eye, how your head snapped towards his as he backspringed across the battleground. The film continued and neither of you could tear your eyes from the screen. Peter felt his eyes well up with tears as a scene with him and Tony talking to the camera began and he thought that watching this was a bad idea and he was about to turn around and turn it off when he felt your fingers intertwine with his.

He sucked in a sharp breath at the warmth you brought him and he squeezed back, his brain nearly malfunctioning at the speed in which he tried to memorize the feel of your hand in his. But his senses were overloaded as he picked up on your accelerated heartbeat.

The two of you continued to watch the video, neither moving even when it autostarted from the beginning, and this time you laughed outwardly at the funny parts, and asked him questions about why Happy didn’t seem to like him.

“What did you do to him Peter?”

“Nothing I swear!”

“Likely story.”

And he felt the steel blanket of grief fall off his shoulders. The feeling of intrigue and excitement for going back to life was no longer a small trail buried deep within him, but now a firecracker that ignited his insides and aurated off of him. Things were going to be alright, he was going to make it out this summer with more than just the memories from his bedroom, and he’d make it through whatever else life would throw at him, as long as he had you by his side.

Because you didn’t make his heart beat faster out of fear, you made him feel flustered and full of affection.

And you didn’t hold him roughly, with the intent to harm him; you held him delicately, and he could only wait to be able to hold your heart the same way.

[levihantrash]

new chapter update!

Summary:

Levi’s pragmatism pulled the brakes. “I’m not about to dedicate my life to become a broke comic artist.”

Levi Ackerman, a gruff cleaner with an appetite for toilet humour meets the unabashedly friendly creative writing professor, Hange Zoë, who somehow ropes Levi into working on a comic with them. While the comic’s title remains undecided, Hange knows that it’s going to be set in a world where giant, human-like creatures devour other humans. Erwin Smith, the comic’s self-appointed editor, unironically thinks it’s going to be a hit. All Levi knows is that he wants to indulge in drawing this comic while hanging out with a certain writer who just won’t stop talking to him.

Where Hange, Levi, and Erwin are the creators of Attack on Titan.

Chapter 1: Free Bread

Chapter 2: New Friends

Like routine, Levi found himself waiting for a certain professor to show up. When Erwin called out to him, he couldn’t help but search behind the tall, imposing figure.

“I haven’t seen Hange this morning either,” Erwin said. Levi found himself irritated by Erwin’s discernment and by his own discrete uneasiness.

“Good morning, Erwin,” Levi greeted, nonetheless.

Hange was late, which Levi figured wouldn’t be out of the ordinary.

The morning passed without a single sign of Hange.

“Sorry, are you Mr. Levi?” A nervous-looking person approached him, holding on to a well-wrapped steamed bun. A twinge of hope stirred in Levi.

“Levi will do,” he said.

“Dr. Hange said I should pass you this,” the bread-holder blurted out.

Levi’s gaze softened. “Where’s Hange?”

“Oh! She’s rushing a deadline and insisted that I pass you this bread.”

The inexplicable rush of relief made Levi dizzy as he grasped the bread limply. “Huh. Sorry that you have to be an errand boy today.”

“It’s no trouble!”

“Who are you?”

“Sorry! I didn’t introduce myself! I’m Moblit, their teaching assistant! Dr. Hange helps me out with my master’s thesis because they’re my advisor. This is just my way of saying thanks. Dr. Hange also treats me to meals, gives me detailed comments for my work… though they might go overboard when it comes to giving speeches about the importance of world-building and honing your craft, it’s inspiring how dedicated they are in what they do.”

Moblit took a deep breath, making up for lost air in between the lengthy, whole-hearted sentences.

“Is that so…” Levi said, suddenly contemplative. “Do you want some tea?”

“Are you getting it from the staff pantry?”

“No, that stuff’s stale as shit. I have better tea, wait here.”

Levi recalled Erwin asking him in front of everyone in the staffroom if he wanted the staffroom snacks. Hange followed up, speaking at a volume that was clear enough for most of the staff to overhear, orchestrating a deliberate conversation with Erwin.

“Since there are no hard rules as to who the snacks and drinks are catered for, and technically, Levi is a staff member, he should have access to the snacks!”

None of the professors objected. It was probably because open prejudice would be socially unacceptable, Levi thought.

Begrudgingly, he accepted Erwin’s offer, and in full view of everyone, took a candy bar.

Hange gasped. “Just one?” Levi glared at them.

“Aren’t the snacks for your little sister?” Hange asked. He nodded, sensing the collective spike in sympathy for him in the staffroom.

After the whole stage, the trio huddled conspicuously in a corner outside the staffroom.

Hange whispered to Levi, “You could have played along better!”

“Erwin’s tired of your skit,” Levi said, overwhelmed and annoyed at the turn of events.

“No he’s not!” Hange said sternly, before gulping down half a bottle of water.

Erwin, standing in between them, told Hange to keep it down.

“Thanks, you two.” Levi found himself staring at the floor, embarrassed that his two friends had to construe him as a pitiful character for him to get a few snacks, even though he had been informed of the plan prior.

“I’m sorry, Levi,” Hange said, their lips compressed into a hard, grim line. “It’s ridiculous that you can’t even get snacks and refreshments as part of the staff.”

“I’m used to it.”

“If anyone’s giving you a hard time, you have us,” Hange said, still put off.

They squared their shoulders impressively. “Right Erwin?”

“You can rely on us, Levi,” Erwin surmised, equally sombre.

Growing more ruffled by their declarations, Levi hissed, “I don’t need two bodyguards.”

“No, you definitely don’t,” Hange joked. “Some people have told me about the deathly aura you emit that I must have missed…”

Fixing their attention at a vague distance, Hange’s playful jibes dwindled into an idle pondering, “I wonder if you found some joy in our companionship at least.”

They’re talking about joy and friendship again… Levi thought.

He found himself back in the present, handing a cup of black tea to Moblit, guiding him towards a bench.

Moblit squeaked out, “Thank you!”

“How did you find me?” Levi asked, betraying none of his real curiosity.

“Hange gave me a description…” Moblit began, not making eye contact with Levi.

“Did they? What’s the description?” Knowing Hange’s brand of humour, Levi braced himself.

Moblit shuffled in his seat, terribly reluctant. “They said to look out for a cold, black-haired man with an undercut, wearing an apron, gloves and brandishing a mop while scolding people to not step on wet floors.” Levi made a mental note to strangle Hange.

Moblit quickly supplemented, “You’re not actually cold though!”

“How would you know that?”

“Um… you’re offering me tea?”

Levi clicked his tongue. “That’s a low bar for human decency. You should have higher standards.”

“You’re right, Mr. Levi… I mean Levi.”

Levi noted Moblit’s jittery manner when he briefly checked his phone for a message and let out a small groan.

“Hey, you look worried sick. You didn’t receive a death threat, did you?”

Moblit laughed weakly, running his hand through his hair. “Uh, you see, I’m one of the editors for the bi-annual literary magazine and we’ve been looking for illustrators…”

“I take it that you haven’t been successful?”

“Yes… I just received someone’s rejection. It’s okay, we’ll find one,” Moblit said, although his panicked lip-biting ran contradictory to his optimistic statement. Levi’s hands twitched again. He folded them promptly into his apron pockets.

Upon finishing the tea, Moblit stood up and gave a tiny, polite bow. “It was nice meeting you Levi. Thanks for listening and for the tea!”

“Good luck,” Levi said, in time before Moblit rushed off.

Bagging up the rubbish, Levi heaved the load on his shoulder easily, only to be startled by the appearance of Hange.

“Fuck! Can you stop jumping out of nowhere?” Though momentarily disconcerted, the tension built up from the day unwound instantaneously, leaving his body loose and feeble.

“Levi! Did you shit yourself?” Hange sang. They accidentally bumped into the gigantic rubbish bag, falling butt-first onto the ground, phone in hand.

“Be careful,” Levi said, in the same monotonous voice he used regardless of the situation. Unless the situation involved Hange leaping out of nowhere. He looped his free arm under their armpit to pull them back up. Hange, flushed from running, placed their phone in his hands with ill-contained excitement.

“Look at what I found!”

“Oi, what’s this—” Levi scanned the phone, his mouth running dry.

“I’m going to recruit this artist. For my comic.”

It was a sketch of a cat being patted by a person with messy, tied-up hair, their hands stroking its head.

“Don’t you think the person looks familiar? Isn’t the cat cute… remember how I told you I have one at home?” Hange released their brown hair from a voluminous ponytail, biting the rubber band in their mouth.

He swallowed. “I drew that.”

Hange’s mouth hung open. “You’re kidding!”

“Do I look like I make such shit jokes?”

“Personally, I find your shitty jokes very funny. This is exciting news! Why didn’t you tell me you’re an artist when I was trying to find one for my comic?”

Levi found her question preposterous. “You could easily find a better one. I’m inexperienced.”

“I’m also an inexperienced writer. I barely wrote one book and a few articles!”

“You’re a professor. You have the title for a reason. I just draw for fun.”

Hange spared him a baffled look. “Please. You have no idea how many great writers never become professors. And how some professors never write great books. I thought you of all people would know that a title doesn’t mean anything.”

“I thought you of all people would know that titles hold their value here, even if we think they’re stupid and don’t mean shit.”

“I know that, Levi. I’m saying, drawing for fun doesn’t make you inexperienced or unworthy of being the artist for my comic. Besides, I chose you before I even knew it was you!” Hange said triumphantly.

Locking the phone screen, Levi reiterated, “I draw for fun.”

“Then this will be our fun project!”

Levi’s pragmatism pulled the brakes. “I’m not about to dedicate my life to become a broke comic artist.”

“You won’t be broke.” Erwin slipped into their conversation as though he had always been there. It was uncanny.

“What do you mean?” Levi stared questioningly at Erwin.

“You’ll be paid for your work, Levi. Hange as well,” Erwin said simply.

“You’re paying us?” Hange and Levi asked, in unison. One, in disbelief, and the other, in delight.

“A publisher will be paying you. I’ve secured funding.”

Levi gritted his teeth. “A publisher wants to sponsor a comic that hasn’t even been written?”

“I told you, Levi,” Hange interrupted. “I’ve already submitted a draft!”

“Yes,” Erwin said.

Levi had so many questions. “How?”

“Because it’s a good story.”

“Did you bribe them? Threaten them?”

“It is a risk,” Erwin admitted.

“It’s a fucking gamble,” Levi emphasised. “Don’t know why you’re so invested in this comic.”

Hange had other worries. “Levi, did you think I wasn’t going to pay you?”

Levi hesitated. “I don’t know. Isn’t this just a fun side-project?”

Hange’s face came closer to his. With the enhanced proximity, Levi stopped breathing altogether. Their face was deadly solemn.

“Listen, Levi, creating art is hard work. Your hard work. Any artist deserves to be paid. It’s not because our relationship is transactional. It’s because it’s only right.”

Erwin added, “We’re not going to accept your art for free.”

Pushing Hange back firmly with his hands on their shoulders, Levi argued, “Plenty of people have access to my art online for free.”

“That’s your choice. We insist.” Hange grinned. “And we think we deserve to be paid too. Even I’m surprised that my project has early compensation.”

Part of Levi’s resolve ebbed away. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough for me!”

“First, you have to tell me what your story is.” Levi gathered up the last of his self-respect. “And if we’re going to be working together, I’ll need your number.”

Erwin raised an innocent eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you need mine too?”

“Stop teasing him, Erwin,” Hange said, grabbing the rubbish bag from Levi, struggling to balance its weight over their shoulders.

Just as Levi felt a shred of gratitude, Hange remarked, “What if he doesn’t agree to do the comic together?”

Patience running thin, Levi stomped on both their feet in a fit of unrestraint that diverged from his unaffected demeanour.

Eyes twinkling, Hange couldn’t help but feel immense glee at the prospect of working with Levi. What was probably Levi’s withheld strength made them certain that he only wanted to dirty their shoes, not bruise their toes. Like Hange would care about the cleanliness of their battered sneakers.

In front of an ordinary apartment door, Hange dug into the depths of their bag to fish out a ring of keys. The size of the ring was unprecedentedly big; the choice of keychain most definitely random, a freebie handed out to new staff that blatantly displayed the university’s name.

Without that much bribery of tea, bread, and friendship, Levi found himself standing beside Hange as they busied themselves in finding the key to their apartment. Erwin had bailed due to having another Important Meeting with Important People, even during a weekend, but encouraged Hange and Levi to take time to discuss the comic.

Hange hadn’t expected Levi to agree so readily to kickstarting the project, and with the generous reception Levi gave (a curt nod and a follow-up question), they thought it’d be best if they invited him over to their apartment. Just so he wouldn’t mistake Hange as a mere business partner. Now that would be upsetting.

Hange pushed the ludicrous speculation out of their head. Levi was first and foremost, a good friend. His bored appearance revealed glimpses of surprise, satisfaction, moodiness, and suspicion. Hange held on to these pieces with the determination to collect them all. Surely, Levi must have figured them out by now. This endless, unabashed interest Hange had taken in him.

“Why are we meeting at your place? Do you need to take a huge shit? Does the toilet at home have a better flush?”

Although Levi had no qualms about visiting Hange’s apartment, he found it unnerving to have a work discussion in someone’s living quarters. It felt too intimate, too casual. He wasn’t sure if he could handle being sucked in further into Hange’s life. They asked so many questions, yet barely answered any about themselves.

Whether intentionally or not, Hange was someone shrouded in mystery to Levi. He couldn’t ask questions either—he wouldn’t—because he was unaccustomed to expressing himself in front of people. More than that, he could envision Hange’s sharp wit poking a clean hole through his muted facade. “You’re interested in my life, Levi?” Damn that four-eyes for being so perceptive. Or was he so easy to read?

“It’s more fun,” Hange said, eventually stuffing the correct key into the keyhole, a smooth click welcoming them. “Plus, I want to introduce you to my friends! Part of the reason why I took up the position at this university.”

“Friends?” Levi asked, slipping out of his shoes to step into the apartment.

“Hange!” A voice rang, and Hange was wrapped in a hug.

“Onyankopon! I saw you yesterday—”

“Three days ago, to be exact, since you always sleep over on the lovely desk at the university.” A smooth voice entered, coming from a woman standing comfortably against the wall.

As the tallest body let go of Hange, it allowed Levi to take in the congenial features of a man whose shoulders rivalled Erwin’s towering, well-built stature. While Erwin’s smile was measuredly cordial, Onyankopon’s was candidly sincere. Watching Hange and Onyankopon, Levi felt as though he were intruding into a family reunion that had invited the entire neighbourhood. Here, he was the guest who came for the free flow of food and drinks.

“I’ve missed you too Pieck!” The woman named Pieck ruffled Hange’s hair, offering them an embrace.

Hange pulled Levi by the elbow, pointing to the new people. “Meet my roommates and college friends, Onyankopon and Pieck!”

“Hi,” Levi said, uncertain as to what else he could affix his terse greeting with. Hange resolved that predicament for him, going into further details about their friends.

“Onyankopon is a researcher and engineer! I can’t tell you the technical specifics of what he does, though, I always get them wrong. Oh, and he’s religious, but he won’t try to convert you.” Onyankopon nodded, affirming Hange’s unflattering introduction.

“Pieck… Pieck is a gardener, florist, and avid gamer! That’s why she’s always bent over, whether it’s tending to her plants or her high score in front of the monitor.”

“It’s not why I need the crutches though,” Pieck said. Hange squeezed her shoulders in response.

“Seems like my friends are all nerdy. Maybe that’s why I like them?” A sheepish smile graced Hange’s lips.

Onyankopon gestured towards Hange, imitating their dramatic flourish. “And this is Hange Zoe, the nerdiest of them all. Obsessed with words. Recently obsessed with science fiction. They’re always reading or writing, and once they start on something, their butt doesn’t leave the chair.”

Levi’s eyes flitted around the apartment—it was relatively tidy, with a couple of framed photos and artworks. A blanket on the couch made it homely enough. His inspection didn’t miss Hange’s notice.

“Like what you see?”

“It’s neat,” he replied.

“That’s a compliment!” Hange took care to disclose this to their two friends.

“All your previous partners don’t take off their shoes, Hange. I hope he isn’t one of those.” Pieck said, using their crutch to relocate Hange’s haphazard shoes to a corner, flipping them the right side up. Levi liked her already.

“That’s gross,” Levi said apathetically, wiping away the horrifying image of dirt-smeared carpets and tiles creeping into his consciousness.

“He’s very clean, don’t worry,” Hange said easily. “Some might even say it’s his obsession.”

“I’m the cleaner at the university.” Onyankopon and Pieck turned towards Hange with patented disapproval.

“Levi, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“I think we’ll make good friends,” Pieck said, bemused.

Hange beamed at Levi. “You’ll love Pieck! She’s really quiet most of the time, just like you. Not to mention she pretends that she hates me. Just like you.”

“Good to know,” Levi said, enjoying the banter a bit too much.

“Hange says she’s going to get you to draw me, as a titan,” Pieck said, evidently sceptical.

“What’s a titan?”

“The giant, naked people I told you about, Levi! They’re called titans!”

“Why are they called titans?”

Hange landed on the sofa with a plop, patting the seat beside them for Levi to sit. “In Greek mythology, titans are immortal giant gods who were banished to the underground.”

Levi, who had little knowledge of Greek mythology, made a mental note to search for references online.

“Therefore, the titans are kind of like vengeful giant gods from the underground who have come to earth to wreak havoc on what the gods have built, which is human civilisation, basically.”

“Basically, I am wonderful enough to be titan-material,” Pieck drawled, propping their crutch at the side of the couch, sliding onto the cushions.

“A special titan that walks on all fours! Um, that’s the plan for now,” Hange said brightly.

Onyankopon, who had been content with listening, clapped his hands together in sudden realisation. “Hange, now that you’re finally home, you can take a shower.”

“I should, right?” Hange scratched their head, feeling the slickness of unwashed neglect.

Levi crinkled his nose as Hange reluctantly made their way to the bathroom. “That’s disgusting.”

“And here you are, still.” Pieck’s amiable statement prickled at his skin like a light warning before impending exposure.

“Hange must really want to make a good impression if they’re showering now,” Onyankopon said, chuckling to himself.

“It’s good to finally meet you.” Onyankopon pushed a newly made cup of tea towards Levi, with the steady confidence that could only come from having known prior that it was the beverage that Levi would desire. “Make yourself at home.”

Levi said his thanks, to the hospitality of two people he scarcely knew, and to Hange, who likely told them about the tea.

Cold water blasted them in the face, as Hange became cognizant of the necessity of showering more regularly. It wasn’t like they thrived in the dirt. Hypothetically, showering wasn’t that troublesome. The shower kept forgetting itself until it was three days later and Hange stank with regret and mild self-loathing. Still, the shower felt good, giving them new clarity about the fact that they had invited Levi into their inner social circle. How would he fare? Would he be uncomfortable? Hange massaged shampoo into their hair, recalling their conversation with Pieck and Onyankopon.

After much elaboration on adapting to a new university, their visits to an amazing bakery, and the fostering of daily encounters with new friends, Pieck had caught on that every other sentence from Hange contained a sliver of Levi-sized anecdotes. The new university was so much bigger than the one Pieck, Onyankopon, and Hange had attended together; it stretched endlessly, and Hange estimated that Levi would have walked 393700.7874 steps to clean just the faculty building. The bakery near the university was fragrant, its selection marvellous, and choosing a new bread for Levi every day was a tremendously delightful task. Moreover, Hange had met so many unique characters since getting to know the people in their faculty, people like Levi whose abhorrence for social etiquette was admirable, and with whom she was eager to share their mornings and lunches. Together with Erwin, of course.

Pieck let out a tinkle of a laugh at Hange’s obliviousness. “Why are you friends with Levi?”

Thinking hard, Hange answered, “I don’t know if he thinks of us as friends.”

“Well, friendship status aside, how’s he like?”

“He’s kind. He doesn’t sound like it, but he’s kind.”

“That’s nice. How’s he kind?”

Confusion coloured Hange’s usual confidence. “Hmm. It’s gut-feeling, I guess.”

“That’s unlike you, to rely solely on instincts,” Onyankopon said, stroking his chin. Hange was a person with an abundance of rationale, a reason for everything, with justification for any ideas. Their reasoning this time fell flat.

Pieck prodded on. “You said that he doesn’t sound kind. Then what does he sound like?”

“Grumpy, sarcastic, serious. He looks like he’s annoyed with everyone. Most people find him scary, I suppose? It’s like he wants people to think he’s an asshole.”

Pieck perked up. “Oh, so you’ve become enamoured with broody, misunderstood people who’re rough around the edges?”

“Pieck, come on, I’m not writing my own romantic trope! I don’t know… he’s a good person. I can tell. He doesn’t say much though.”

“You’re a mind-reader now?”

Hange ignored her. “His art… it’s so evocative. Melancholic. Hopeful. Angry.”

“What was the artwork you last saw of his?”

“A cat,” Hange said immediately.

Onyankopon brought Hange back to reality. “What about him? What do you like about him? Not his art.”

Hange pursed their lips. “Do good people need to prove themselves to show that they’re good?”

“There could be reasons as to why you’re so adamant about his golden character,” Onyankopon said.

“He’s reliable. And his shit jokes aren’t so bad once you get used to it.” Hange surprised themselves with that comment—Levi’s relentless toilet humour was infecting their brain. The corrosive force of the word “shitty” had already moulded itself permanently into their vocabulary.

Gazing up at the ceiling, Hange bent their arms behind their head. “It’s hard to find people to truly get along with.”

Onyankopon and Pieck shared a knowing look.

With their eyes trained to the white ceiling plaster, Hange mumbled on, “it would be nice if he’d talk more openly about what he’s feeling. It’s all guesswork and I’m afraid I’m constantly reading him wrong.”

“Maybe you should take your own advice…” Onyankopon said gently.

“But I do talk about my feelings!”

“Monologuing in your room and reposting vague lines of poetry and sending us memes to cope with your avoidance is not the same as talking about your feelings,” Pieck said, spending the subsequently long moment of silence to snip off a yellowed leaf from the potted Monstera deliciosa next to the kitchen counter.

“Wow.” Hange, for once, had nothing to muster.

Onyankopon’s approach was less incisive than Pieck’s. “You know, I don’t think you need a reason to be friends with someone. If he’s making you happy, I think it’s a good sign.”

“Thanks, Onyankopon,” Hange said gratefully.

“But Pieck’s right about you being deliberately evasive with your own emotions. Introspection shouldn’t be so strenuous, right? Don’t you write about your characters’ internal turmoil often?”

“It’s different when you’re reflecting for yourself,” Hange contended.

“We’ll see how Levi’s like anyway, when we meet him,” Pieck said, grabbing the scissors, going towards another deadened leaf.

“Don’t bully him!”

Another snip. Another leaf fell. “Isn’t he supposed to be scary?”

Hange smiled wryly. “But you two are scarier.”

[gayenerd]

An interview with Mike when Warning came out that I don’t even have a source for - sorry!

Laughing Off a "Warning" With Green Day 

Bassist Mike Dirnt's green thumb, punk perspective and personal dominatrix 

If Mike Dirnt wasn't in one of the most enduring and influential punk bands making the scene, the Green Day bassist could easily be a hilarious stand-up comic. Instead, he's devoting his insightful social commentary laced with witty repartee to the business (and funny business) at hand -- the band's sixth studio album, Warning. While Green Day's Nimrod and (especially) Dookie humor doesn't seep through in this seemingly ominous album title, it may be because these Bay Area hooligans -- Billie Joe Armstrong (vocals, guitar), Tre Cool (drums, percussion) and Dirnt -- have accepted and submitted to certain rites of passage other than platinum-selling discs. But it's definitely not as ominous as all that. We bantered with Dirnt to gauge the barometer of Warning, life as a prankster punk and his bid for world domination as Armstrong's presidential running mate. What would you like to talk about? Probably not myself (laughs). … It gets you so self-involved and self-absorbed, [that] it makes it difficult to change your perspective for an hour or two after you're done doing interviews. It's not so much narcissistic as it is dwelling. It's like being on tour and coming back and decompressing and acclimating to your home life again, because your surroundings are all about you, you, you for so long, that you need to stop and go home and realize, 'Hey, wait a minute. Other people aren't asking for a lot. I'm probably just self-absorbed still, and being an assh*le for a while and don't realize it.' And you need to take a breath and go, 'OK, how can I focus on the smaller things in my life, like getting up in the morning and making my girlfriend coffee? Or making my daughter breakfast.' And taking the focus off yourself for awhile. I think that's important. 

What's fun to talk about? I'm growing a huge pot plant in my back yard right now. My friend gave me this pot plant and I just left it in the window and left the light on it forever, and it grew and grew and grew, and got pretty big. So then I put it in my backyard just to see what would happen, and I came home and it's f*cking enormous! (Laughs) It's of the superskunk variety. It is nasty. Pretty cool. [My friend] is very proud of me. He said, 'Wow, Mike, that's beyond a plant -- that's a crime.' I smoke pot once a month. I take one hit. So I'm gonna give it all to friends.

No "jurassic monkeys" [joints] for you? Not this year.

Any special reason? Three months before my daughter was even conceived, I stopped smokin' pot and I stopped for about a year and a half, just to clean up my act. After that, it's never been the same. I haven't smoked as much pot ever since. I would hate to think that if she needed me, I was impaired by weed.

Warning seems to have been shrouded in a huge amount of secrecy and I have my theories as to why, but I'm hoping you could provide some perspective. We took a break so as not to hate what we do. We really toured the heck out of the last record [Nimrod] for about 238 shows, and we were like, 'OK, it's time to take a real break -- for once.' And instead of writing in the fashion of, 'OK, let's go in and write the next record and pound it out and pound it out' … [for] the last record we wrote about 40-some songs and then let the songs pop out and figure out what the record was from that … [this time] songs stood out on their own and we said, 'OK, this is the album' … Billie waited for inspired moments. And as a band, we practiced when it was working, and we only worked on the songs that already inspired us … instead of forcing it. We had about 14 or 15 songs, and we were like, 'We're totally ready.' And it was pretty obvious at the time which 12 songs were gonna be on the record. There's the dealio. (Laughs) … As far as the secrecy thing, we will sell no wine until its time. [But] go on Napster and check out a couple songs. (Laughs) I know they're there.

What is your point of view on Napster? I think it's gonna work itself out. Everyone keeps sayin', 'What's the deal?' I don't believe their schtick about 'Hey, we started doing this for poor college students and blah-blah-blah.' Well, first of all, if you can afford to go to college, [and if] you can afford a computer that can actually burn a f*ckin' CD and you can afford to pay the online bill, then you're probably not starvin', OK? When I was goin' to junior college, I was worryin' about where my next packet of Top Ramen was comin' from, OK? So, I don't wanna hear that. But do I think [Napster] is all evil? No. There's definitely two sides to it. I make comp tapes at home (granted, they're albums I've purchased). But when I was a kid, I would buy tapes at the flea market. When you're a kid, the only thing you can afford at the flea market is a tape or a pair of sunglasses. I don't think bands should be made to look evil just because they don't wanna be a grasshopper (hence, The Ant and the Grasshopper [fable]). The other side of that is people don't wanna purchase the record (laughs). I'm not gonna dwell on it. It might hurt you if you've only got one hit [on an album]. [But] we definitely have a full package.

How does Warning differ from your past efforts? I think this record definitely has an overtone of independence throughout the whole thing. I think that we've overcome a lot of adversity. We produced this record ourselves and it has a sense of honesty…. There's an overtone of hope to the whole record that says, 'It's up to you to choose to have hope.' And whether or not most people in the world want to admit that they want hope for their world … they do. If you really don't want any hope, well I have friends who didn't want any hope and they killed themselves.

What are some of the adversities that Green Day has managed to overcome? Everybody thinking, 'Here we are today, gone tomorrow.' Friends [thinking], 'They're becoming huge as a band,' and all of the family turmoil, friend turmoil. … I think the adversity is also that this is a Green Day-quality record. Every song on this record is good. And people giving up on rock-and-roll and punk rock ... [We're] being honest with ourselves and remaining who we are and what we are.

And with regards to remaining who you are and what you are, the band caught a lot of sh*t for "Time of Your Life" because.... … it was such a good song. (Laughs) It's funny, because the people who gave us sh*t about that … obviously hadn't heard our first two records [1039/Smoothed Out Slappy Hour and Kerplunk]. Songs like 'Words I Might Have Ate' from Kerplunk and 'Rest' on 39/Smooth [have] touched on -- what can I say? -- our sensitive side. If you reach into your vulnerable side and you bleed on the plate for people, I think that takes a lot more balls than to just go out there a scream your head off and call it punk rock. Punk rock means no limits, no rules and breaking rules -- to us -- and there's a lot of punk rock on this new record. And if you think punk rock is just distorted guitars and hair-dos, you got another thing comin'. You need to listen to "Minority" and "Warning" [both from Warning].

Then can we look forward to songs like "Time of Your Life" and "Words I Might Have Ate" on Warning? No. (Laughs) There's definitely a sense of hope in some of these songs, but it's from a different perspective of where we're at this point in our lives. I'll give you an example: 'Minority.' That's a song about how … my next door neighbor's mom has a nose ring and my other next door neighbor is a jock with green hair. Everybody wants to look different and be different and act different, but ultimately, nowadays, you need to look inside yourself and find your individuality. With 'Minority,' everything has its suit -- its uniform. It's up to you inside to break the mold. With 'Warning,' that's a song about questioning everything. There's this false sense of freedom we have in the United States. There's all these signs tellin' you, 'Don't do this' and 'Don't do that,' and you just gotta read between the lines and figure out, 'What are those things really sayin'? Is it for someone else's convenience that I'm told to not go here, or that I can't do this or that? Or is it because it's really dangerous?'

Green Day traditionally has been trailed by a lot of controversy. What are some of your favorite controversies? It's weird. There are a lot of controversies, but it's a matter of how close to home you take 'em. Obviously, [there's the] whole sell-out thing, and I'm so over that. If selling out is compromising your musical intentions, I don't even know what that means. I guess that's a big one. (Laughs) At one point in my life it was -- now I'm over it. And I think most people are, too. Every time you spend a dollar, you're making that sell-out statement and casting a vote. Like, 'You're gonna slam me for being on a major label, and yet you smoke cigarettes? OK. (Laughs) Your shoe's on backwards, buddy.' Maybe you dug that controversy when Tre [Cool, drummer] climbed the Universal Studios globe after the MTV Video Music Awards. That was my idea. I'm so accident-prone, that I would have fallen off and broke my neck, so Tre did it. (Laughs) I said, 'Why don't you climb that?' and Tre's running up and down and I'm like, 'Good man.' Tre's got balls bigger than that globe, anyway. You gotta let the [music] industry know who's runnin' it -- and that's the artists. What our album is to a lot of people is a product. What our album is to us is our child. And often, when we turn a record over to the record company, when we finish it, it's like handing your child to a nurse after she was born -- all bloody, a purple tail, ready to go. (Laughs)

Have you settled the score on your past "disagreement" with Third Eye Blind? I really don't think anybody can mistake a kiwi for a banana. Third Eye Blind -- that whole thing. I was probably off the hook; I shouldn't have been fighting in the first place [backstage at a festival concert] and whoever hit me [over the head] with a bottle from behind was a f*ckin' coward. I shouldn't have been fightin' and they shouldn't have been fightin', and that's what boys do. To quote Eminem, 'Tomorrow we'll be boys again.' (Laughs)

Since Billie Joe is campaigning for president and you're his vice presidential running mate [and Tre is the ugly wife], what are you gonna do to keep him in line? Oh, he's a lame duck from the get-go. I'll be runnin' sh*t. (Laughs) I'll start out by lowering the price of alcohol and cigarettes, and shortly thereafter, we should take the 'explicit language' stickers off of albums, so f*ck Tipper Gore. I just think kids should be able to buy [the Clash's] London Calling. What kind of crap is that? That was a controversial record that got the explicit lyrics [campaign rolling]. It's the line, 'He who f*cks the nuns/Will later join the church.'

It was extremely magnanimous of Green Day to bring in dominatrix Mistress Simone for Warning's engineer Tone. Are we, then, to believe that the band didn't get spankings all around? Oh, no. I receive my floggings in the privacy of my own home. Under the watchful eye [and sure hand] of my gal. My girlfriend wouldn't have it. [My girlfriend's called] Mistress Sarah.

Where are you guys with the horror film you were planning, and have you signed Gwen Stefani yet? I think we got so involved in the new record that it became more important than anything else. I think we've decided to follow through on our own script that we've been working on, which is a much better script. Except that if I told you any more, I'd have to kill you.

[crue-sixx]

Drowning

Title: Drowning

Fandom: The Dirt

Summary: The reader is the adoptive daughter of Nikki Sixx, and after a solo outing with his mother, she starts to have feelings that she doesn't belong.

Warnings: Swearing, Nikki's mom being a cunt, suicide attempt.  If any of these are a sensitive subject, please don't read.

You were twelve when Nikki Sixx adopted you from an English orphanage.  You knew your birth parents were dead-your father having died in a car accident in Redondo Beach before you were born and your mother died having given birth to you.  Neither biological family wanted you, so you became a ward of the state.  You had potential adoptive parents, but after the head of the orphanage told them about your parents, they were automatically turned off and adopted another kid instead.  For twelve long years, you were passed by when a rather scary looking man came and asked for you specifically.

He was with three other men, one of which was a blonde who turned away at the very sight of you.  The other three stared in awe as they took you in,, the tallest saying "She looks just like Razzle!" he was excited and continued "Just look at those dimples! "

You were confused more than anything, the head asking Nikki if he was sure he wanted to adopt you, as if he were merely looking for a new puppy to bring home to the kids.  "Yes, I'm sure.  I already did all the fucking paperwork and submitted it months ago!"

You were unused to cussing, the prim and proper orphanage having stressed the importance of being ladies and gentlemen.  You took things in stride and you were told to gather your belongings, that you were moving to L.A. with your new family.  You were so excited that you were going to a family.  Of course they'd have to foster you for a while before the adoption would be official to see if they were a good fit for you, but Nikki seemed to be so excited about the whole thing.  Of course he'd consulted his wife and other kids first and they all agreed to have you.

The first few weeks were a wonderland to you, playmates that wouldn't try to take your things and adults that didn't yell at your for the slightest misgivings.  You had your own room and school was an absolute dream. You life had become just that-a beautiful dream.

It was on a Sunday that dream came to an end when Nikki's mother Deanna wanted to take you out for ice cream, and only you.  Nikki was reluctant at first, but your enthusiasm was what convinced him to let you go.  She started out sweet as pie, but when you sat down after getting your treat she turned into a viper.  "You know he's not your real dad right?"

"I'm 12" you answered sarcastically "I've lived in an English orphanage.  I know my biological parents are dead" you couldn't understand why she felt so threatened by you.

"I mean" she she said "That you're talking up Nikki and his wife's time from his real kids.  You should just go away" she offered.  You couldn't defend yourself after that, even though most of the time Nikki and his wife had spent with you were with your foster siblings, you'd thought of them as your brothers and sisters all the same.

She looked you square in the eye, her taking your chin gently in between her pointer finger and thumb "I know all about you.  Your father dying because my son's lush singer crashed his car and you killing the very woman who gave you life...  they died so they wouldn't have to be around you..." her tone then assumed a deathly low vibration "It's a sin for you to want to live...just get it over with so they can go back to their normal lives.  They'd be so much better without you in it..."

You weren't hungry anymore, you just letting your ice cream melt.  You didn't know if you should cry or not, tell Nikki all the vile things his mother said to you, but you thought that would unnecessarily burden the family.  But Deanna's words stuck with you, effecting your schoolwork and relationships.  Nikki noticed something and asked "Hey, you okay kiddo?  You seem down lately..."

"I'm fine, Nikki" you said, trying to hide the pain in your voice.  He had never pressured you to call him or his wife Mom or Dad, he encouraged you to find out more about your biological father Razzle Dingley and your mother.

"That doesn't sound too convincing, Y/N" he put an arm around you "If something's wrong you gotta tell me so I can help you.  It's okay to feel sad."

"I said I'm fine" you replied, this time with a little more annoyed tone.  He reluctantly backed off, and the next few weeks Deanna would take all the kids, including you on outings but wouldn't acknowledge you in any way.  She explained to the Nikki's other kids that you were being punished and not to even look at you much less talk to you.

The kids, not knowing better did as they were told even when she wasn't around.  This sent you even lower than you imagined you could ever get-this was worse than the orphanage.  At least there you were noticed.  You started thinking that Deanna was right.  So after the last outing, you made up your mind-you raided the medicine and liquor cabinets and found a big bottle of Tylenol and vodka.

You stared at the pills in your hand, about half the bottle contemplating what would happen.  You just said "Fuck it" to yourself and popped the handful and chased it with a swig of vodka.  Soon, you felt sleepy and dozed off into a sleep you hoped to never wake up from.

The next day was a school day, and all the kids were ready except Y/N.  When Nikki noticed you weren't with the rest of them, he asked "Where's Y.N?"

His son answered "She's still sleepin'.  We tried to wake her up but she's snoozin' away and smells funny" Nikki sighed and told his kids to stay there while he got you up.

"Y/N, time for school!" he announced in a cheery voice, but the smell of vodka hit him.  He recoiled, your room smelling like a distillery.  It was then he noticed the half empty pill bottle on the floor next to your bed.  It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize what was going on. "Shit!" he shook you and slapped your face to rouse you.

You answered a slurry "Wut?"

"How many of these did you take?" he was trying to remain calm, but his voice was shaking as well as his whole body.

"Half bottle..." you answered before trying to go back to sleep.  Nikki was on the phone with paramedics at this point.  He was advised to keep you awake and if possible induce vomiting.  His wife was worried sick with the rest of the kids, who were now all crying at the sudden loud noises.  He went with you to the hospital in the ambulance and stayed right next to you.

When they pumped your stomach (they had to insert a tube down your throat because you had lost consciousness and couldn't vomit normally) and you had remained stable, you felt Nikki's hand clench yours "Why Y/N" your eyes fluttered open and saw he was crying.  "Why'd you try to kill yourself?"

"Your mother said that it'd be better if I wasn't here..." you came clean, tired of feeling sad simply for existing.

His face changed from sorrow to rage "When?" he quietly demanded.

"The first time she asked you to let me go with her alone.  She said my biological parents died because they didn't want to be around me..."

Nikki bit his lip so hard a trickle of blood dripped from the  corner of his mouth.  "You listen to me, Y/N...that woman is a bitter old bitch who isn't happy unless others are miserable.  Your parents loved you.  Razzle and Hilda wouldn't shut the fuck up about being parents.  They wanted you, to see you grow and become a whole person..."

You too were now sobbing at this revelation, he held you tight to him, telling him how Deanna told the other kids to ignore you and how you were always left in the car when she took you and the kids out.    He had called Tommy earlier so he could come sit with you while Nikki saw to his other kids and to update them on your condition.  He had knocked on the door and Nikki gave him a quick rundown and stated he needed to make a phone call.

"Hey Y/N!" he tried to sound in a good mood, but you weren't biting.

Instead you asked "What was my dad like?"

The question caught him off guard and he said "He liked to party and was super cool.  Your mom was more reserved and quiet, but they complimented each other perfectly.  She was from a well to do family, but they didn't like Razzle one bit.  They even disowned her once they found out she was pregnant.  But they didn't care, all they had were each other and that's all they needed" he thought of his next words carefully.  "When the accident with Vince happened, Hilda was inconsolable. She went overseas to have you and we were all told that you had died with her.  About a year before Nikki adopted you, we found you were alive in England" he held your hand.

"You...actually looked for me?  Why?"

"Guilt, maybe" he looked at you "We don't know...Vince still can't look at you without thinking about Razzle...it's nothing you did..."

You looked up at him and asked "Can you teach me to play drums?  Like my father?"

"We have different styles of playing but I bet I can get his old band to let you beat his drum set!" he smiled for real at the prospect "I'll teach you the basics and you can make your own style!"

You agreed to his terms and shook on it.  In a few hours, your brothers and sisters piled in and snuggled up to you on the bed, apologizing for ignoring you and pleading with you not to hurt yourself again.  You promised and returned their snuggles, Nikki's wife patting your hair affectionately.

Nikki came in finally and said "It's time to go home, everyone" you had been discharged on the condition that you had to see a therapist twice a week.  Soon you were able to take it down to once a week and then you didn't have to go at all.  Deanna had come calling again, but Nikki shut her down.

"You will never see my children again" he growled "You will never talk to me, my wife, or my kids ever" he slammed the door in her face and called the cops to have her forcefully removed.  You hid behind the corner out of sight when you saw her face in the window, after he had dispatched his mother he hugged you tightly "You never have to see her again, you hear?"

"Yes, Daddy" you looked up at him.  He had earned that title the day he showed you he actually cared.  He looked down at you and smiled through his tears.  You still kept your last name as Dingley, but you considered Nikki Sixx your father, his wife your mother and their children as their siblings, never questioning their love for you ever again.

[johnnymundano]

Sleepwalkers (1992)

Directed by Mick Garris

Screenplay by Stephen King

Music by Nicholas Pike

Country: United States

Running time: 91 minutes

CAST

Brian Krause as Charles Brady

Alice Krige as Mary Brady

Mädchen Amick as Tanya Robertson

Sparks the cat as Clovis

Lyman Ward as Donald Robertson

Cindy Pickett as Helen Robertson

Ron Perlman as Captain Soames

Jim Haynie as Sheriff Ira Stevens

Dan Martin as Deputy Andy Simpson

Lucy Boryer as Jeanette

Glenn Shadix as Mr. Fallows

Stephen King as Cemetery Caretaker

John Landis as Lab Technician

Joe Dante as Lab Assistant

Clive Barker as Forensic Tech

Tobe Hooper as Forensic Tech

Mark Hamill as Sheriff Jenkins

I have no beef with Stephen King, let’s get that out upfront. I’m not one of those “Yeah, but it’s not proper books is it?” chancers who churlishly resent his Medal for Distinguished Contribution (lifetime) to American Letters. Nope, not me. But Sleepwalkers is a real honker. It’s stoopid, hyuk-hyuk, pick your nose in church, comic book bullshit. And purposely so. Crap like this doesn’t happen by accident. And King is totally responsible for this. There’s no “Wah! Someone took my script and made a shitshow of it” excuse here. Sleepwalkers is often called (as it is onscreen) Stephen King’s Sleepwalkers; the guy’s all over this one. It’s even an original script (maybe, I hear, based on an unpublished story; I didn’t check but I’m pretty sure the only things remaining unpublished by Stephen King in 2019 are his notes to the milkman. And they are due out next year from Subterranean Press, in a limited edition that costs more than a week’s shopping for a small family.) The script is his and so is the director; King personally pushed for Mick Garris, and King got Mick Garris. Even the songs on the soundtrack are pure Stephen King too; old timey R’n’R like at the sock hop where Cindy Lou showed you her woo-woo, mixed with that special kind of shitty heavy rock liked by confused men who think having hair like a girl in a shampoo advert is a signifier of raw masculinity. Other than composing and playing the instrumental score on a home-made kazoo personally, could Sleepwalkers be any more Stephen King? No.

For some unhappy reason whenever he gets any substantial control over a movie King’s IQ plummets to room temperature and all his worst impulses leap to the fore like randy cats. (I submit to the jury Maximum Overdrive (Dir: Stephen King, 1986), m’lud; the prosecution rests.) I think (maybe) King, bless his cotton socks, is trying to recreate the cinema of his youth; stuff like The Blob (1958), Them! (1954), Invaders From Mars (1953) and I Married A Monster From Outer Space (1958). The pulp fun cinema of a dead age. Unfortunately for King, those people back then were trying to make the best movie they could; the pop culture magic which ensured their success and longevity  was purely unintentional and completely impervious to intelligent creation. King’s forays into movies seem to be trying to reverse engineer serendipity; a fools’ errand that results in foolish movies. Movies like Sleepwalkers.

The impulse to gravitate to camp seems ingrained in Cinematic King. Even when he just does one of his almost ubiquitous cameos, he often fails to resist the temptation to goof about like some brain damaged hayseed on a 1960s sit-com. If someone, Criterion maybe, went back and dubbed a pant-ripping fart over all Alfred Hitchcock’s onscreen cameos we’d be approaching the same ballpark of screen disruption as a Stephen King cameo. Of course he has a cameo in Sleepwalkers. A talking cameo at that as a “cemetery caretaker”, and King confounds expectations by playing it like some brain damaged hayseed on a 1960s sit-com. Even better, his unnecessary cameo bounces off unnecessary cameos by Tobe Hooper and Clive Barker; it’s like the business of the movie pauses for a couple of minutes purely so King can piss about with his mates. This is swiftly followed by cameos from John Landis and Joe Dante who, er, say some “lab” stuff I missed because Joe Dante’s hair is so…fascinating. I don’t mind cameos as long as they are unobtrusive but these might as well be announced by dancing girls and a marching band. At least all the characters aren’t called stuff like “Officer Hooper” or “Mayor Corman”; that shit gets old real quick.

As anyone who has ever cleaned out a litter box can tell you, another kind of shit that gets old quick is cat shit. There are a lot of cats in Sleepwalkers, the hero even turns out to be a cat, Clovis by name. In fact Sparks the cat, as Clovis, gives the third best performance in the movie, behind Mädchen Amick  and Alice Krige. Mädchen Amick is undeniably great here. She’s totally pleasant and nicer than nice without making you want to choke on your own fist. There’s an exuberant scene of her dancing to a song Stephen King obviously likes, in the lobby of a cinema, which is a very lovely scene and she continues to be a refreshing presence throughout the movie. Alice Krige is also good value, striking a nice balance between vile and vulnerable; she acts like her no doubt soon-to-be-fired agent told her she’s in a serious movie. Everyone else seems to have received a script with “Camp It The Fuck Up, Daddio! Love, Steve-o” scrawled across it, probably in crayon. Were that the case, then everyone performs superlatively. The usually fine actor and generally welcome screen presence Ron Perlman, particularly, thunders through every scene he’s in like subtlety is a crime.

Maybe in the world of Sleepwalkers subtlety is a crime. Because the world of Sleepwalkers is a funny world, one where werecat son and werecat mom Charles and Mary Brady (Brian Krause and Alice Krige) wander about feeding off the psychic energy of virgins, enthusiastically incesting and driving fast muscle cars. For some reason they also feel it necessary for Charles to attend school which, you might  think, would create a lot of complications for a nomadic couple who need to keep off the authorities’ radar. If you did think that, you would have put more thought into this set up than Stephen King. These werecat people can make themselves invisible; okay. They can also make their car invisible; um. And they can make their car change into another car; er, no; sometimes it will turn back into the old car if they don’t concentrate; so, wait, the car is real but also an illusion? But how can they drive an illusion? So it must be a real car, but…oh God, make it stop. And mom werecat has to stay at home while son werecat goes out and gets the virgin energy to feed to her. If the mom werecat can only be fed by her offspring, how did she survive long enough to have offspring? Or is it just that mom werecats are all agoraphobic? Also, the werecat people look like humans unless they are reflected in a mirror (but only when the script remembers) and they, uh, still leave mirrors up in their house so visitors can narrowly miss seeing their true nature. Oh, yeah, obviously, normal cats are the werecats’ natural enemy and in the world of Sleepwalkers police officers can have their cat in the car with them, which is lucky because the proximity of a normal cat also causes the werecat to reveal its true nature.  Unfortunately, once revealed, their true nature of a werecat is remarkably similar to someone with jaundice who has lost an enormous amount of weight very rapidly, all topped by a big bald cat head. In summary: ancient Egyptians liked cats, cats are magic but werecats are nasty and really bad and not very good at keeping their existence a secret, but they do their homework and drive cars Stephen King would doubtless describe as “bitchin’”.

I should probably say that Mick Garris’ direction is fine, and sometimes very good indeed and I did enjoy his use of ‘80s horror movie lighting techniques. But I really want to point out that Mick Garris has written some very good horror fiction himself; well worth seeking out. As is Sleepwalkers; but you need to know what you are getting: entertaining nonsense, a kind of retro-crap honestly proffered in the spirit of drive-in goofballery. Essentially though, you can never shake off the feeling that Sleepwalkers exists purely because Stephen King came up with the scene where someone is killed by a corn on the cob and then built a ramshackle movie around that. Unfortunately it’s not a very good movie. But it is entertaining. M-O-O-N, that spells entertaining. Laws, yes!

[huffletiika]

About late studying sessions and presumably haunted corridors.

Ok, peeps, I have decided to take part of this year’s Lutteo ficweek… even if I have no time, or whatsoever. I might skip some days, tho, as there are some prompts that didn’t inspired me #tja. Anyway, I hope you like this one.

Anyway, just some info before you start reading: this OS is at the same universe as my Gastina multi-chapter “Hello, stranger.” So, if anyone is interested on reading it before (or after) getting into this, I will leave you the link RIGHT HERE. But, don’t worry, there’s no need to read it to understand the OS, as this is a prequel that takes place way before the events of my multi-chapter. However, there might be a little wink for those who read it.  

Words count: 2.4K.

DAY 1 – “it’s 3 am and I’m still in the library studying for finals and I’m losing my grip on reality and I think I just saw a ghost”.

Finals are going to be the death of her.

Seriously, it’s like no matter how much she tries to keep her studying schedule going, she will just not gonna make it, not even with the very well done graphics an diagrams her best friend made for her. Days doesn’t have enough hours for her to have enough time to learn all she has for her exams, and at the same time training for the skating competition, and going to all those social events her grandfather told her she must go in order to keep the Benson’s inversions safe and sound.

She can’t wait for summer vacations.

The next day (correction, that day, as it’s already three in the morning) she has one of the most important exams for her career, and she really need a high grade on this one in order to pass.

She tried studying in her dormitory, she really did, but she gave up at 10pm as the girls from the dormitory next to hers and Nina’s had decided to throw a party for the end of the semester, and the music was so loud she thought the walls would break at any moment. So, she had to walk all her way to the library in order to find a quiet place, internally grateful for living in a dorm inside the campus. Her parents would kill her if they find out about her having to walk down the street in the middle of the night.

Since the finals started, the library has remained 24hrs open as an incentive for students to use it to prepare for their exams instead of the many outdoor places on campus, as the benches outside the buildings, or the dark gardens. It might sound crazy, but just a week ago they found a student sleeping in a picnic mat outside the engineering faculty, hugging his advanced calculus book, mumbling something about going late for his exam while on his sleep. There were memes with his picture all over the campus app, it got viral.

The library has become the second home for many.

Surprisingly, that day the library doesn’t seem to be as popular. Well, there were many students when she arrived but, as midnight arrived, she noticed she was the only one at that specific section, and that the rest of them were practically empty. That’s just so great. She tried to focus on the words from her text book, on solving the problems, on getting all that info into her head, but as it started getting later her eyes started to burn, and the words became blurry, so she finally realized that what she didn’t learn in the whole semester, she wouldn’t learn in those five hours she had left before having to go comply her death sentence. Come what may, her father is always telling her, and she believes him.

She is so gonna fail.

When she stands to leave the study cubicle she notices it’s darker than she expected. There are some light spots, of course, but many of these seem to have gotten damaged. She walks toward the shelves to put the books back at the place they belong, and as she gets deeper at those dark aisles, she starts to have the feeling that she is not alone.

She looks around, but there’s nothing either on her left or her right, and she tells herself that it’s just her head playing games. She has never believed in ghosts, even after her biological parents appeared in her dreams, and she wouldn’t start doing so now.

She leaves the last book at the right shelf, having to get on her tiptoes for that hard mission, and then sighs looking at the time on her phone’s screen. If she leaves now she will be at home at 3:40, and so she would have a couple of hours to sleep. A sound coming from her left calls her attention, putting her on alert. But there’s nothing. There’s no such thing as ghosts, she reminds herself, you are just tired from studying, and it’s all in your head.  But there were stories, many indeed, of a student that died in the library years ago, crushed by a shelf that fell on her as she tried to reach a book that was on the top, and other who took his life on the 90s after losing all his finals.

Those are just stories, she reminds herself as she tries to breathe in and breathe out to calm herself, and get her backpack from the floor, but as soon as she gets up she finds someone standing right in front of her.

She screams.

Someone from the distance shushes.

Throwing her backpack at the mysterious figure she tries to run away, but it grabs her wrist, and she is not able to get away from its grip no matter how hard she tries.  

Her heart is racing inside her chest, she is scared, much more than after waking up from one of those terrible nightmares about the fire where her biological parents died. Her mind isn’t thinking in other thing than running away, than getting into her room and hiding under her blankets, maybe hugging the very cute teddy bear her grandpa gave her when they found out she was the granddaughter he thought he had lost years ago.

“Calm down, Chica Delivery. It’s me,” a male voice she knows pretty well gets into her ears, calming her down, throwing all fear away from her body. She looks back at him, stopping her intends to scape, and as soon as their eyes meet, she manages to let go of his grip with a swipe.

“Are you crazy, Matteo?! You scared me to death!” she claims, wishing to have something to throw at his stupid face when she sees him grinning. He’s just- Ugh! She can’t stand him, or his stupid smile, or his perfect eyes, or that hair of him where she wants to dig her hands in, and…

Enough.

“Ouch, I didn’t know I was that ugly,” he teases, and then bends down to pick up the backpack, and then offers it back to her. “Let’s make it a tie. I mean, you almost killed me with this,” he adds, as she gets her belongings back.

“I didn’t meant to… it was your fault for scaring me,” she fires back.

“Oh right, keep blaming me,” he rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. Oh shit, she thinks, he’s wearing one of those stupid vests that look way too good on him. Her sanity decides to submit her resignation, there’s no way she could handle him. “What are you doing here at these hours, anyway?” he asks. “I thought your roommate was the kind of person who would be okay with you studying in your room no matter what time.” She has to look away when he carelessly supports his side on the shelf.

How does he always looks so good?

“She is,” she defends her, frowning at him. Nina is one of the few people she has met in Buenos Aires that she can confidently call a true friend. “But our neighbors finished their finals today, and threw a party to celebrate,” she explains, with a shrug.

He puts a grimace.

“Whoa, that sucks,” he says, and for once he agrees with him.

“Tell me about it!” she replies, and another shush comes from an undetermined place in the library. She lowers her voice. “And you? What are you doing here at this hour? I thought you had a fancy flat with enough space to study, even if you have the loudest roommate, which you don’t,” she asks, and his stupidly attractive grin gets wider.

“Can I ask how you know that?” he rises his eyebrows, and she swears under her breath. She can’t tell him that her roommate has a crush on his roommate, that’s practically breaking all the rules of friendship.

She goes for a better excuse.

“You seem to forget that your ex-girlfriend is my cousin.”

“And it seems like you have paid too much attention to what she says about me,” he fires back with a cocky smile. His fresa attitude drives her insane. “But, don’t worry, it’s normal to want to know more about me, you are not the only girl who does that at the campus.” She rolls her eyes.

“Whoa, Chico Fresa, I thought your ego couldn’t grow bigger,” she replies, sarcastically. Then reminds him:  “You still haven’t answered my question.” He shrugs.

“This is just a really nice puns-free environment to study,” he briefly answers, looking away as if something has ashamed him. How come? She frowns, and he changes his attitude in a click. “Anyway, are you going back at your dorm now? I can give you a ride.” She’s about to reject his offer, but he interrupts her. “I know you live inside the campus, but it’s still dangerous to walk there alone at this hour, so please let me take you there.” How could she refuse his offer after those words? She ends up accepting.

----

His car seat is the most comfortable thing she has ever sit on, she thinks, as she closes her eyes and lets the sound of the engine, and the delicious smell of his cologne (the one that seems to dominate the place) lull her, to the point of even falling asleep for a few seconds.

She hears him chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, her eyes still closed.

“Nothing,” his response comes quickly, but then it seems like he gives up. “It’s just… you almost look inoffensive right now.” She sticks her tongue out at him, and he giggles.

Then they stay silent for a couple of minutes, in whose she nervously drums with her fingers.

“So, I went to the Jam & Roller last night and saw the Roller Band playing,” he casually says, as if taking those words out of his mouth wouldn’t have cost all of his courage. “Your boyfriend and his bandmates are really good,” he adds, as he parks in front of her building.

“Yeah, they ar… wait, boyfriend?” She looks at him, confused.

“Yes, the guitarist is your boyfriend. Isn’t him?” he frowns.

He saw them being very affectionate with each other some weeks ago, at the skating rink, and that restrained his attempts to get closer to her, to let her know how much he likes her. Gastón wouldn’t leave him alone since then, of course, bugging him about how an idiot he was for letting those assumptions stop him from getting the girl, as if he wasn’t MATTEO BALSANO, the king of the rink, the one who always gets everything he wants, and throwing bad puns and references about Luna at any given opportunity.

“No, we are not,” she replies. “He’s my best friend, I know him since I lived in Cancun, why would you think we are dating?” She asks, and he glances away, looking kind of ashamed.

“I just supposed it as you seem to be so close,” he answers, with a shrug. Internally, he is dancing la Macarena, and opening a bottle of tequila. He might indeed do that as soon as he gets to his flat.

Luna and Simon aren’t a couple.

He has a chance.

He needs to make a plan, and fast, step up his game and get a date before she leaves the car. He isn’t going to miss any more time, not after the disaster the past month has been.

“But I guess I was wrong,” he adds, turning off the engine of the car. She makes an overacted face of surprise, and takes her hand to his forehead, as she’s testing if he has fever.

“Are you ok, Chico Fresa?” she asks, her really bad acting making him smile. “You just admitted you were wrong about something, so this is either you dying from some sickness or a miracle,” she teases, and he cackles.

“Ha-ha, Very funny, Chica Delivery,” he takes her hand out of his forehead, even if he would have wanted it to stay there for a little longer. He casually forgets to release it, tho. “Then, if he is not your boyfriend, I guess there wouldn’t be a problem if I invite you out for a milkshake one of these days… like, for example, tonight?” he suggests, knowing he’s risking a lot with this proposal. He slowly releases her hand. After her response he will have either a date with the girl he fancies since they met, or the biggest rejection of his whole life. The only one that would have mattered. “I mean, I owe you that for scaring you today.” Yes, he thought, make it sound as casual as possible.

She frowns.

“I thought we were even after I almost killed you with my backpack,” she replies, and he’s almost sure she will say no, he could feel it in his bones, or maybe those were just his insecurities kicking in. Since he met her, he knows how it feels to be afraid of not being enough for someone, of being rejected. She takes what seems like an eternity to consider his offer. “But, who am I to refuse such an invitation?” He felt his own smile growing on his face, as the cloud of doubt fades away. “Tonight is perfect, I will need lots of sweet after failing my exam,” she confesses.

“You won’t fail it, Chica Delivery. Stop being so negative,” he tries to cheer her up, bopping on her nose, making her wrinkle it. “I’ll pick you up around seven, is it okay for you?” he asks, and she nods with a bright smile.

“It’s a dat…” she interrupts herself, getting as red as a tomato. “I mean, it’s a… a deal,” she stutters and then bites her lower lip. He laughs and nods, but in his mind he is the one doing it.

“It’s a deal,” he agrees, and then both of them say goodbye. He might have intentionally missed her cheek while kissing her goodbye, touching the corner of her lips instead.

“Hey,” she tells him, putting half of her body through the window after closing the door, as her height wouldn’t help her much. “Send me a message when you get home, ok?” she asks him, and he couldn’t help but smile back at her and nod. If he wasn’t before, now he is sure that he is deeply in love with her.

 You (sent 3:40am)

I’m home, Chica Delivery.

ChicaDelivery (sent 9:31am)

I’m so sorry, I fell asleep.

And I’m running late for my final!

Thanks for not forgetting about the message.

See you tonight?

You (sent 9:38am)

It’s ok. I hope you get there on time.

And I’m glad you didn’t forget about our deal.

See you tonight, Chica Delivery ;)!

[ahiddenpath]

Regarding the stage of Digimon, in your opinion, what are the characters with better and worst development or characterization?

Hmm, good question!  As you say, I can only give my opinion- everyone’s interpretation of characters and their growth is subjective- but I will try my best below the cut :)  Spoilers for the digimon stage play below the cut!!!!

I would argue that most of the cast didn’t develop or change during the play, not really.  Mostly they acknowledged existing truths and fears that were already causing tension inside of them, partially because of that all-important anniversary, partially from exposure to the other Chosen and sensing that they’re all facing similar tensions, and partially because of... being literally held prisoner by their own desires.  But then, maybe opening your eyes to something you refused to acknowledge before is growth, even though the pieces were already in your hands!  I think the distinction is probably unimportant?

In a way, the pains of growing up showcased in the stage play are relatable to anyone who has gone through that difficult stage between childhood and adulthood.  During one of my writing classes as an undergrad, the students had to submit two stories each for peer review, and about 70% of them dealt specifically with the fear of facing a life beyond our schooling.  The difficulties the Chosen face in the play are painfully familiar.  But as Koushiro points out, it’s truly the weight of August first bowing their backs, and as Yamato admits, the fear of being unable to spend time with his digimon partner plays a huge role in his fear.

Basically, the Chosen are normal kids, but they’re also not.  Although the viewers know and love this about our babies, I think the stage play showcased this idea beautifully.  I’m not sure how to rank everyone’s growth by number, so let me try talking about them one-by-one and seeing where things land?

Taichi

As most of the Chosen point out in the first act, Taichi has been subdued since the events of Saikai.  Even so, he leaps on the idea of a camping reunion on August 1st, surprising Hikari and placing her on the alert.  His over-enthusiasm indicates that he’s eager to step back into his fearless leader role, if only for a few days, especially in a safe setting.  

Taichi spends most of the play pretending he’s fine (when he clearly isn’t), and it even seems that he considers remaining hostage in Etemon’s... ‘playing house’ scenario rather than start a fight.  He also offers himself as a sacrifice if the others are spared and begs for mercy, hoping to protect his friends by taking the fall for them.  Eventually, with prompting from Sora, Hikari, and Koushiro and help from Agumon, Taichi realizes that his new ability to consider consequences and ask questions before he fights is growth, not regression, and he regains the ability to fight, with the implication that his methods will be more effective than ever.

Taichi probably has the clearest ‘before and after’ picture from the stage play.

Yamato

It was really fun to see Yamato hang out with his band!  There’s a sense that his band mates simultaneously look up to him and take every opportunity to tease him, lol.  

Although he says little of consequence during the group campfire talk, Yamato opens up more when he’s alone with Taichi.  There’s a sense that he’s trying to draw information out of Taichi by offering some in turn, but it doesn’t really get anywhere.  He gets to the good stuff towards the end, when he admits to Jyou that his fears aren’t really based in becoming an adult, or even in growing apart from the Chosen.  His biggest fear is that, some day, he won’t be able to see Gabumon as much.  Part of me isn’t sure why he’s bringing that up now- my understanding is that the gates to the Digital World have been opening and closing beyond their control mostly all along, unrelated to Yamato growing up.  But his point still stands; Gabumon is his most precious friend, and it must often feel like Yamato’s ability to spend time with him is out of his control.  

I got the sense that Yamato mostly needed to speak his fears aloud, but Jyou also assured him that his fears were normal, and that the best thing to do is to make his time with Gabumon count and move forward with courage.  I’m not sure how much Yamato grew...  But I thought everything he said in his scene with Jyou was interesting and loving, and reflected that teddy bear nature hiding beneath his outer tundra. 

Sora

I’ll be honest, while the girls had nice moments, I was a little put out at how comparatively little they were showcased.  Like everyone but Jyou, Sora was not forthcoming at the campfire scene, and she “slept” through most of the “girl talk” scene.  The play gave the sense that Sora is worried about her fellow Chosen, especially Taichi, and communicated her protective and loving nature, but she wasn’t given much opportunity to shine until her final heart-to-heart with Mimi.  Mostly she talks about the self she’s always been- preferring quietly supporting others to thinking about her future and understanding herself.  After musing about herself a bit, she decides that it’s time to start tackling the issues of learning who she is and what she wants.

That’s a beautiful realization and decision for anyone!  i would have liked to see a lot more Sora, though.

Koushiro

Compared to the others, I don’t think Koushiro has a moment where he stands up and makes some kind of discovery unique to himself.  While he (awesomely) points out that all of the Chosen are stuck in this Digital World pocket because they don’t want to lose August 1st and everything it means to them, he doesn’t say much about himself and his individual struggles.  All he really says is that, while he likes computers, he’s not sure what he wants to do in the future, and he’s interested in attempting to explore the world around him without the help of computers.  (Although I guess you could argue that last bit IS a Big Deal).

I don’t mind, though, because his characterization was so great during the play.  He was sassy (“You’re the closest thing we have to a cave man, Taichi-san!”), an intelligent planner (sensing an initial problem, understanding the nature of their plight, and even uncovering the psychological component), supportive towards everyone (especially Taichi, something conspicuously absent in Tri), proactive, polite, sweet, and a bit socially clueless.  The things that I dislike about Tri!Koushiro are absent: perviness, fashion disasters, occasional uncomfortably weird behavior, a lack of proactiveness compared to Adventure, and a tendency to cut himself off from the group instead of working together with them.

I don’t know if he developed over the course of the play, but for what it’s worth, stage play Koushiro soothes my tormented soul, lol.  

Mimi

In the first act, she seems preoccupied with... making the camping trip harder than it should be.  We later learn that she wants to echo their circumstances during their adventures by leaving supplies behind (I think she actually brought supplies back then, though, which is kind of funny).  During the “girl talk” scene, Mimi seems to be pushing for light, stereotypical subject matter: crushes and ghost stories.  While the dialogue itself doesn’t contribute much, it does create a sense that Mimi’s trying to distract herself from her thoughts.

Mimi later says that the future is difficult for her to think about, because she wants to do so many things.  The more she grows, the more she questions her ability to explore her many interests; isn’t it more realistic to focus on one thing?  Palmon convinces her that she can do whatever she wants to do.  It’s a sweet and very Mimi-esque moment.  I enjoyed it a lot, and I thought Mimi’s actress did an incredible job, but Mimi’s initial pushy and actively unhelpful behavior combined with a comparatively short payoff scene pushes her characterization and arc towards the bottom of my personal ranking.

Jyou

Jyou didn’t ‘grow’ in the sense that he was the one Chosen who is calm about his future, but the fact that he’s in that position during the stage play is amazing to me.  You guys probably know I have a huuuuge soft spot for Jyou, but...  Just the fact that he went on the trip without an argument, even for one day, was a victory.  And he put so much effort into helping Taichi and Yamato, which is wonderful, too!  

I loved his scene with Yamato...  While Yamato did most of the talking and discovering, Jyou supported him and listened.  It’s kind of... like the opposite of what happened between them in the diner?  That isn’t a perfect metaphor, but this time, Jyou went out of his way to help Yamato, instead of vice versa.  Senpai is so grown up now ;__;   At the same time, he’s still strung too tight about his grades and achieving his goals, so he still feels like our beloved dork face.

Senpai, notice me *___*

Takeru

In my opinion, Takeru drew the short straw in the stage play.  He is upfront about his fears about everyone parting ways, and he seems willing to talk about his hope that he can write in the future without ending up hating it (although he tends to get cut off when he tries).  We glimpse his sweet and mischievous sides, but he spends most of the climax looking lost and near tears while Hikari remains calm and reassures him.  I finished the play without much of an impression from him.  I think he mentioned that he used to feel stronger and more single-minded, and now he often feels more frightened and unsure?  I don’t recall any closure for him, though.

Happily, I find Takeru’s Tri persona lovable and fun enough that I don’t really mind his comparative lack of presence here, but I do kind of wonder why he got left out like he did.

Hikari

Hikari was interesting in that her role as a concerned observer, and someone comparatively grounded in reality, was very visible in the play.  Although she mostly remained in the background, Hikari was vocal about her worries for Taichi, and she was the first to point out that something was wrong with Etemon’s ‘playing house’ situation.  But despite giving off a sense that she is calmer and more aware than the others, she wasn’t given much material to work with in the play.  I was happy to see her interacting with Taichi- in my opinion, Tri pushes her away from him and towards Takeru to a way that sometimes feels like a stretch- but I would have liked to see more from her in general.  Again, the “girl talk” scene featured the gals, but didn’t actually give them much meaningful material.  Did she talk about her hopes for the future, beyond affirming that she wants to teach kindergarten?  

I guess overall, it looks like Taichi was the main character of the stage play.  Yamato, Koushiro, and Jyou have roughly the most influence after that, followed by Sora, followed by Hikari, Mimi, and Takeru.  While I have complaints, I think the stage play did a great job portraying the characters.  Ultimately, though, I think they could have fit more material for some of the characters if they didn’t spend so much time on dialogue that hit dead ends over and over, and if the “girl talk” scene was less about... crushes and ghost stories and more about... the girls.

Thanks for the ask!

[eldritchsurveys]

950.

5k Survey XLVIII

2451. Do you roll your eyes alot? >> I don’t think I do. I used to have a lot of problems with people because they interpreted some facial expression of mine as eye-rolling, and for the life of me I could never figure out what they were on about. I know what it feels like to actually roll my eyes and I think I would feel it if I was just rotating my eyeballs around in my head all the time. But this just goes back to why I’d prefer people didn’t try to use my face as some kind of emotional divination tool. It’s not reliable at all. 2452. Do you prefer b-sides or remixes? >> Well, those things aren’t opposites, so this question kind of confuses me. 2453. What makes the world go 'round? >> I’ve forgotten. Some law of physics that I learned about in middle school. 2454. Is Blink182 punk or pop? >> Both. Pop-punk is a genre. 2455. Do you remember Fat Albert? >> Vaguely.

2456. Do you take things slowly, as they come? >> As opposed to quickly...?? I’m not really sure how to answer this. 2457. Are you laid back or tense? >> Sometimes I am laid back, sometimes I am tense. Those are states of being, not personality traits. (I suppose one could consider “laid back” to be a trait, but “tense” certainly isn’t.) 2458. Are you insecure? >> Sometimes. 2459. Imagine you aare working in a soup kitchen. You are supposed to give each person on the line a half a cup of soup. When hungry people come up to you do you just end up emptying the cabinets for them? >> Here’s the thing about that: There’s a finite amount of food, and your mission as a soup kitchen is to try to feed as many people as possible without being so miserly that no one truly feels fed. It’s a delicate balance to strike, but you’re not going to strike it at all if you’re just plying everyone with extra servings because you’re letting your feelings bleed all over the place. 2460. Why can't ywe give ourselves one more chance? Why can't we all just get along? >> Are these song lyrics? 2461. What bands do you want to see live that you have never seen? >> I think Orville Peck would put on a nice show. There’s a lot of bands that I haven’t seen that I would love to see if not for the fact that I can’t abide the suffocating human crush of general admission pits anymore. So now I can only imagine going to shows where the artist plays chill music and/or there is actual seating, lol. 2462. Do you like raunchy songs (like that lick ny neck, lick my back, lick my pussy, lick my crack song)? >> I didn’t like that song much, and I generally prefer non-sexual songs, but there are some sexually-themed songs I like. Puscifer has one that remains a favourite to this day, for example. 2463. Do you think that the Beatles are still the Beatles without John Lennon? Would you want to see the Sex Pistols without Sid Vicious? Did you think that the members of Nirvana were smart to reform as the Foo Fighters instead of trying to stay Nirvana after Kurt's death? >> I don’t care about any of this. 2464. Do you like the band Squeeze? >> I have only heard one song by them, but I don’t even remember what it was or what it sounds like. I just remember their name being on some Guitar Hero game or another. 2465. When you are angry or upset do you know you're being irrational but you can't really stop? >> I’m not being irrational simply by having feelings... 2466. Is there room in your life for one more trip to the moon? >> What? 2467. Where are they now: Your first best friend in elementary school? your first crush? your first boy/girlfriend? your first love? your first lover? >> *shrug* 2468. Do you have a lot of self pity? >> I don’t have a lot of self-pity. I don’t even know what that is. What I do have is a lot of grief for and anger on behalf of my younger selves. 2469. have you ever had something really good come out of something really bad that happened to you? >> Probably. 2470. Do you like magnetic poetry? If you could make a magnetic poetry set: what would be the theme? What would some of the words be? >> I don’t care about magnetic poetry. Like, it’s cool, I’m just not interested in it. 2471. What is one of your secret delights? What gives you a cheap thrill? What is your biggest guilty pleasure? >> None of these phrases mean anything to me. I just like what I like. 2472. Have you ever misinterpreted song lyrics in a funny way (I used to think that 'wake me up before you go, go' was 'wake me up and buy me cocoa')? >> Yeah, I always hear “heavy metal broke my (heart)” in Fall Out Boy’s Centuries as “heavy metal Pokémon” and it makes me giggle. 2473. What are the most popular/overused diary names? >> --- 2474. Are you under pressure? >> I mean, sometimes? 2475. How well do you know yourself? >> I don’t know. I have nothing to compare my self-knowledge to. 2476. Is 'soul' such an old fashioned word? Is 'love'? >> I’m not sure how a word that is still in common usage can also be old-fashioned. 2477. Name a person you love: How do you love them? Let's count the ways... >> Let’s not. 2478. Does your place have a lawn gnome? >> No. 2479. Do you ever wonder, 'why me'? When? >> Well, sure. When I’m thinking about all the fucked-up shit I’ve dealt with. 2480. Is rap a form of poetry? >> Yes. 2481. What's the differance between a player and a baller? >> I’m not sure. I thought they were synonymous. Maybe being a player is more about social status and being a baller is more about economic status? That seems sound. 2482. What imagery do you get from the words 'woodsmoke and herbs'? >> I don’t really get any imagery from that. 2483. How many days until your birthday? >> I’m not counting the days, but there’s a little less than nine months. 2484. have you ever MEANT to hurt anyone? >> Yeah. 2485. What are 3 things you don't know? >> Trigonometry, how kombucha is made, the rules of baseball. 2486. Do you usually feel physically well or unwell? >> Most of the time I feel fine, physically, although sometimes my digestive system is annoying. 2487. Would you ever submit your picture to be 'rated' on one of those 'hot or not' websites? >> No. 2488. Why are there hardly ever any fat people in movies? >> Because of current beauty standards. 2489. Is there any differance between what's real and what's for sale? >> That’s definitely a song lyric but I can’t remember the song. I want to say it’s a Stone Temple Pilots one... 2490. Are you funky? >> --- 2491. Do appologies always make things all better? >> No, and they’re not supposed to. An apology is an acknowledgement of one’s wrongdoing and the intention to do better, but it’s not the end of the story. Atonement is supposed to follow. 2492. Let's just say that there is a huge ass bomb that can blow up the Whole Planet..it is set to blow up in 100 years. You can push the button to stop it but if you do you Will die. You only have this one chance to stop it. Do you stop it? >> I hate situations like this. It’s like the trolley problem: this is not a reasonable situation for a person to find oneself in, so it’s really just an ethics exercise at the end of the day, and I’m not interested in theoretical ethics. 2493. Let's say someone else found the button to stop it instead of you. Do you think it is their moral obligation to save humanity at the expense of their own life? >> --- 2494. What's the silliest name you can think of? >> --- 2495. It's the middle of the night and you are home alone. Someone knocks on the dorr and says their car breoke down and asks to use your phone. What do you do? >> They wouldn’t get that far because I wouldn’t answer the door, lmao. But if we could manage to communicate through the closed door, then I’d tell them that I’d call the police or a tow truck for them. 2496. If a cop pulled you over and asked if he could search your car what would you say? >> I don’t drive so I never memorised the protocol for this. Although I should, just in case it ever happened to Sparrow while I’m in the car. 2497. Are you meek or nasty around cops? >> I don’t usually interact with cops at all. And if I did, my Black ass sure the fuck wouldn’t be nasty. 2498. If you were me and I was you then where would we be? >> --- 2499. What has been the greatest invention so far? >> I mean, most of them have been great, right? 2500. We are at question 2500. Do you REALIZE what this MEANS??!!! >> Yeah, it’s the halfway mark. I plan on being the one person on this website to finish this motherfucker, lmao.

[constantfluxx]

Also, I have a new prompt! How do you feel about genderswap? Returning from a mission one of our four favorite shadowhunters (aka jace) does reply to one children "trick" just for the fun of it, but it turns out that that children is a seelie/warlock and turns jace, clary, Alec and izzy in the opposite sex for a day.

👻The Spook Cruise👻

Port of Call: Shadow Squad!Itinerary: Genderswap Trick! ♀️😈♂️Captain: @thefandomicaopens ✨

[-submit a prompt-]

“Trick or treat~?”

The four Shadowhunters stopped dead in their tracks, hesitantly turning to glance over their shoulders at the young, sweet voice that had sang out from behind them. They stared at the child, puzzling over her question for a long while until Clary at last finally replied, “I’m sorry, what was that?”

The little girl beamed up at them. “Trick or treat?” she repeated.

She was dressed in a cheap, knee-length dress of layered, sheer fabric. Her hair was done up in braids and decorated with bows, and glittering purple-and-pink makeup danced across her round, cherub-like cheeks. A pair of wings flopped unevenly from her back, a kind of hose material stretched over thin, wire frames, the whole piece hung from her arms by thin, elastic bands. One hand held out a plastic bucket shaped after a Jack-o-Lantern, and the other clutched a tiny, sparkling blue stick that ended in a thick, pearlescent star stuck upon a tuft of white down feathers.

Clary smiled wearily at her, crouching precariously to be a bit more level with the little girl. “You’re a fairy princess, are you?” she asked, guiltily eyeing the girl’s empty bucket.

“A fairy, yes!” the child giggled, moving her bucket closer to Clary. “Trick or treat?”

Jace’s patience was growing thin. Beaten, worn, and covered in a mixture of sweat, blood, and demon ichor, all of them were far too exhausted to be dealing with a random child’s Halloween antics, to be honest. He simply voiced their weariness the soonest, and the loudest, reaching down to pull Clary back up to a stand. “Look, kid, do we look like we have any candy on us?”

Izzy glared at him. “Jace, be nice,” she hissed, though there was something in her tone which dually thanked him for the interjection. Without it, she imagined Clary would have conversed with the kid all night long, and it’d be well past midnight before any of them finally got to shower.

The girl turned her large, pleading eyes to Alec. So far, he’d remained withdrawn and silent, arms folded across his chest. His eyes narrowed at the little girl, trying to ignore the way her innocent charm tugged at his heartstrings. Children had always claimed a soft spot in his heart, but something felt off with this one in particular - something unseen, unheard, unfelt.

“So… trick, then?” she somberly asked, her long lashes drifting lazily up and down her eyes.

“Yeah, sure,” Jace grumbled, urging Clary towards the rest of the group before turning around himself. “Trick.”

Still watching the little girl, Alec was the only one to catch the fleeting gleam in her eyes as a wicked grin broke across her face. “Okay!” she chirped, half-hopping after Jace and lifting her toy wand. “Trick!”

“Huh?” Jace grunted, jerking away from the sudden touch of the plastic star to the flesh of his wrist. Whirling upon the child, he meant to irritably scold her, but already the girl had turned and began skipping off, her bucket swinging haphazardly from the crook of her arm and her wings bouncing erratically from her back. He rolled his eyes, then turned to lead them the rest of the way into the Institute. “Kids. What a nightmare.”

Alec woke the next morning feeling… heavy, strangely enough. Probably because he’d spent the night at the Institute, he figured. Sleeping simply wasn’t the same without Magnus by his side, but by the time they’d actually finally gotten back from the mission he’d been barely awake enough to shed his soiled clothes, much less make the trek back to the loft. He groaned, rolling onto his side to try and eek out a few more minutes’ sleep.

He frowned. His arm felt… higher than it should be. Just how many covers had he slept with, anyway? He couldn’t be too surprised - he had to make up for the absence of another body, after all. He peeked an eye open to check…

…then shrieked. A horrified hand clapped against his mouth the very moment the sound escaped him. Meanwhile, he’d thrown himself out of bed with such frenzy his feet got caught in the twist of his sheets and he crashed upon the floor. Still, the pain that now throbbed through his rear and the back of his head did nothing to quell the panic exploding through his every limb. He shot to his feet and scrambled across the room, barreling his way into view of the room’s mirror.

No way. It’s impossible. It can’t be.

And yet, as he stood staring at the reflective surface, eyes glazing slowly up and down the figure staring back at him, a deep revulsion twisted his innards, and a hand moved to cover his mouth in stunned horror.

“By the Angel,” he whispered, too shocked by what he was seeing to be bothered by the far-too-honeyed sway of his voice. Full hips, smoothed limbs, rounded breasts… I’m… a woman… ?!?!

“Alec!”

He jolted out of his stupor at the voice, diving towards his dresser to frantically rummage through the sparse pile of clothes he kept at the Institute. “J-Just a sec!” he yelled back, lowering his voice as much as could to try and keep it normal-sounding. He was… mostly successful, but it still wasn’t right, a fact that irritated him more than he cared to admit.

In any case, he had far more pressing concerns. He’d managed to find a shirt that had been large enough on him that it could handle his newly-added mass, though the way it stretched was rather… well, obscene. Unfortunately, none of his jeans came even close to making it over the curve of his swollen hips, and all of his sweatpants were at the loft. At the very least, he wore his boxers baggy enough that they fit him now with still just the slightest bit of wiggle-room. He’d have to make do with that, though he didn’t see how in the nine Hells he was going to be able to even leave the Institute at this rate.

Maybe Magnus can portal me home, and then—

“ALEC! By the Angel, open the door!!!”

Alec practically tripped over his room’s sparse furniture in his mad dash to answer the door. He threw himself against it, hand grasping the metal knob between two clawed fingers, and finally yanked his door open, still wide-eyed and panicking.

Immediately, a blush consumed his face, much to his embarrassed frustration. Some guy was staring back at him - he quickly looked Alec head-to-toe, bringing Alec to throw his arm across his chest. “Wh-Who the Hell are you?!” he demanded, half-shied behind his door. He’d been expecting… Well, he wasn’t really sure who, because the voice hadn’t sounded anything like Jace, but at least someone he recognized from the Institute. This person certainly did look familiar, but in a way which disturbed him to the core: aside from the hair that flowed like an inky river down to just below his shoulders, the man looked uncomfortably similar to Alec himself.

After a moment of shock, the man suddenly smirked, then reached out to comb his fingers in Alec’s hair. “Damn, I’d look pretty cute with short hair.”

Without a second thought, Alec smacked the hand away from him. “What the fuck do you—” He broke off when his eyes fell to the man’s chest, then widened at the thick, black Nephilim rune situated perfectly centered between his pecs. His expression grew wide with realization, causing the man to laugh as Alec finally gasped, “…Izzy?!”

Izzy laughed, then pushed her way past Alec, ignoring her brother’s endured stupor. “The one and only, big brother!” She turned and eyed him again, chuckling, “…Big sister? Hmm…”

Alec scowled, grabbing the nearest thing to him - the thigh holster hanging on the wall, apparently - and throwing it at her. “This isn’t funny, Iz! What the hell happened to us?!”

“Not just us,” she clarified, catching the thigh holster easily enough and turning it over thoughtfully in her hands. “I just came from Jace and Clary’s room. Imagine how awkward that would have been to wake up to!” The moment she mentioned it, she looked up and tapped her chin in thought. “You think Clary swings both ways?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Alec grumbled, snatching his thigh holster out of his sister’s hands. “What are we going to do? I can’t go out looking like this!” As if there were any question about what he referred to, he gestured wildly up and down his body, his exasperation clear in the erratic movement.

“No kidding,” Izzy remarked, her face making no attempt to hide her opinion of his outfit. Turning around, she started stripping off her clothes - her black slacks and a peep-holed top that now hung a little loose on her now-squared body. “Come on, you can wear this, and I’ll borrow yours.”

Alec quickly shut the door and scurried over to his sister, catching her shirt mid-air and gawking at it. “You gotta be kidding me.”

She turned to him with a raised brow, plucking the sleeve of his too-tight shirt. “Unless you’d rather wear that and have your tits bursting at the seams all day.”

Absolutely not. Alec glared at Izzy, then grumpily pulled off his shirt and replaced it with his sister’s. To his great relief, she’d modified it to contain its own bra pads, smoothing everything out nicely without him having to endure a too-tight chest harness digging into his skin on all sides. The top fit him perfectly, as did her slacks, and when he turned around to observe himself in the mirror he was relieved to find everything as normal-looking as possible… save for the part where he was still quite female.

“Alright,” Izzy sighed, fastening Alec’s belt around her hips and straightening out the shirt she’d commandeered. The look she gave her reflection seemed none-too-pleased with the outfit, but it’d have to suffice. She strode past him to the door, the silver bangle hanging about her wrist one of the few things still betraying her true identity. “Let’s find the other two and figure out what we’re going to do about this.”

Alec sighed with grateful relief, grabbing his bow, quiver, and thigh holster and rushing out after her. “Yes. Please.”

[horrorhouse]

Because @sarcasmsuitsme posted it, I had to grab...

1) Put your iTunes on shuffle. Give me the first 6 songs that pop up. (Spotify; no iTunes) "America's Sweetheart" by Elle King; "Babe" by Lily Rose Depp & Harley Quinn Smith; "I Can't Go For That" by the bird and the bee; "Written In The Water" by Gin Wigmore; "I Don't Like Mondays" by The Boomtown Rats; "When We Were Young" by Adele 2) If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? Mel Brooks - I think he's a comedy genius. 3) Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17. "if he were grabbing for a fly in the air. Harper knew that one." 4) What do you think about most? The future. 5) Ever had a poem or song written about you? I don't know if it was written about me specifically, but I Googled my name and found a Harry Potter fanfic where one of the characters had my name and seemed strangely like me but I don't know who wrote it. 6) Do you have any strange phobias? I'm arachnaphobic. Pretty common. 7) What's your religion? I was baptised Methodist but I don't go to any specific church. I believe in God, I pray, I read my Bible. I consider myself a Christian but I think organized religion is too corrupt and greedy. I'm an ordained Dudeist priest also, but that's something more social and therapeutic to me. 8) If you are outside, what are you most likely doing? Trying to get from point A to point B. 9) Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band? The Beatles 10) What was the last lie you told? Telling someone I felt fine when I wasn't. 11) Do you believe in karma? Absolutely. 12) What does your URL mean? pennydreadful was already taken so I use dreadfulpenny as a play on words. Penny dreadful is a reference to British Victorian horror/suspense literature. 13) What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength? I think my greatest weakness and my greatest strength are the same - I'm blunt. Sometimes that can be a good thing, sometimes that comes back to bite me in the butt. 14) Who is your celebrity crush? Jared Padalecki. 15) How do you vent your anger? I write. I listen to music. Sometimes I vent to my boyfriend if he's not the reason I'm angry. 16) Do you have a collection of anything? Funko Pop figures. 17) Are you happy with the person you've become? There are some things I'd like to change but overall, I'm satisfied with who I am. 18) What's a sound you hate; sound you love? The sound of fingers scraping against a balloon; the sound of my boyfriend's voice. 19) What's your biggest "what if"? What if I never cross everything off my bucket list? 20) Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens? I definitely believe in ghosts but I don't believe in aliens. 21) Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm. Right arm - Fidget cube. Left arm - Cell phone. 22) Smell the air. What do you smell? A little smoke and clean cotton scent. I'm burning a candle. 23) What's the worst place you have ever been to? I went camping with my boyfriend once. When he goes camping, it's a mild step above "roughing it". There was a porta-bathroom and there was a building with showers (with spiders and centipedes - uck!) but other than that, I spent the weekend in unbearable heat, in an uncomfortable tent. When I was outside, I was bitten by mosquitos AND horse flies. It was the worst! 24) Most attractive singer/s of your opposite gender? Adam Levine from Maroon 5 25) To you, what is the meaning of life? To try to make every generation of humanity better than the last. We've had some advancements and some slip-ups, but I think we're thriving. 26) Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed? I've driven before and come close to crashing but thankfully, no. 27) What was the last movie you saw? "National Lampoon's European Vacation" - I watched it on TV last night. As far as new movies, "Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol. 2". 28) What's the worst injury you've ever had? I guess having my gallbladder removed through emergency surgery since that's the only time I've ever needed surgery. 29) Do you have any obsessions right now? It's back-to-school time and that means all the school supplies are out. I usually buy a lot of pens, markers, notebooks, pencils because I prefer to have physical copies of anything I write rather than typing it out on a computer (at least until I need to submit something). 30) Ever had a rumor spread about you? Yeah. That's all I'll say about it. 31) Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong? Depends on how deeply they hurt me. 32) What is your astrological sign? Pisces 33) What's the last thing you purchased? I just bought a t-shirt for someone for Christmas (I started my shopping early this year.) 34) Love or lust? Love. 35) In a relationship? Yep. Have been for 11 years. 36) How many relationships have you had? I've had tons of relationships. If we're talking romantic relationships, I've had at least 30 or 35 guys who've been my "boyfriend" at some point in my life. I've only been intimate with maybe 10 of them. 37) What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you? There really isn't a secret weapon. Just be yourself. 38) Where is your best friend? I have more than 1 best friend. My best male friend is at work. My best female friend is in Indiana. 39) What were you doing last night at 12 AM? Usually talking with my boyfriend. 40) Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend? Yeah, I'd say so. 41) You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do? I keep walking to work and call someone who might be able to help. 42) You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid? a) I would tell certain people, yes. b) I'd just live my life without any regrets. c) Of course I'd be afraid. 43) What's a song that always makes you happy when you hear it? "9 to 5 (Morning Train)" by Sheena Easton - It's an inside joke thing. 44) In your opinion, what makes a great relationship? Trust, honesty, being with someone who makes you laugh who you have a lot of common interests. 45) How can I win your heart? I fell in love with John because he's smart and funny, but he doesn't talk down to me just because he might know something that I don't. I once dated a guy who said I wasn't smart enough for him because I couldn't read Sanskrit and he could. 46) Can insanity bring on more creativity? In some cases it does. 47) What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far? I quit my job because it was affecting my sanity. I'm not happy with our financial situation right now, but I'm in a better place mentally and my boyfriend is incredibly understanding. 48) What would you want to be written on your tombstone? Obviously my full name, date of birth, date of death and then maybe something - I could be a smartass and put the line from "Ghostbusters 2" - "Death is but a door. Time is but a window. I'll be back." 49) Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word "heart." What about love? 50) Basic question; what's your favorite color/colors? TARDIS blue (Pantone 2955 C) 51) What is your current desktop picture? It’s the house sigils from Game of Thrones forming the word COEXIST. 52) If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be? Kathy Griffin 53) What would be a question you'd be afraid to tell the truth on? I'm an honest person so I don't know what circumstance that would come up. 54) You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what's even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power? Telekinesis 55) You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again? My first date with John. 56) You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? The years of abused I faced as a child. 57) You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be? Brad Mates from Emerson Drive. 58) You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go? Dublin, Ireland. 59) Ever been on a plane? Yes. 60) Give me your top 5 hottest celebrities. Jared Padalecki; Mark Ryder; Jason Momoa; Jeffrey Dean Morgan; Brock O'Hurn

[changrhea682-blog]

GT Solar Picks The Wrong Time To Go Community.

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[katybudgetbooks]

YA Releases We’re Anticipating in July

The Disappearances by Emily Bain Murphy (7/4): A mesmerizing tale about a fifteen-year-old girl who moves to a town where every seven years there is a disappearance, and she must find a way to break the curse before it's too late.

Ash and Quill by Rachel Caine (7/11): The unforgettable characters from Ink and Bone and Paper and Fire unite to save the Great Library of Alexandria from itself in this electrifying adventure in the New York Times bestselling series.  Hoarding all the knowledge of the world, the Great Library jealously guards its secrets. But now a group of rebels poses a dangerous threat to its tyranny....  Jess Brightwell and his band of exiles have fled London, only to find themselves imprisoned in Philadelphia, a city led by those who would rather burn books than submit. But Jess and his friends have a bargaining chip: the knowledge to build a machine that will break the Library's rule.  Their time is running out. To survive, they'll have to choose to live or die as one, to take the fight to their enemies--and to save the very soul of the Great Library....

Because You Love to Hate Me edited by Ameriie (7/11): This edgy anthology teams up acclaimed YA authors and popular YouTubers to create 13 fairy tales and 13 inspired works--all from a "villain's" perspective, in the vein of Maleficent or Wicked.

Waste of Space by Gina Damico (7/11): From the author of Croak comes this raucous account of ten teenagers picked to live on a rocket ship, get shot into space, and have their adventures broadcast live to the entire world. Find out what happens when reality stops being reality, and everything goes inevitably, horribly wrong. 

The Last Magician by Lisa Maxwell (7/18): Stop the Magician. Steal the book. Save the future.  In modern day New York, magic is all but extinct. The remaining few who have an affinity for magic--the Mageus--live in the shadows, hiding who they are. Any Mageus who enters Manhattan becomes trapped by the Brink, a dark energy barrier that confines them to the island. Crossing it means losing their power--and often their lives.  Esta is a talented thief, and she's been raised to steal magical artifacts from the sinister Order that created the Brink. With her innate ability to manipulate time, Esta can pilfer from the past, collecting these artifacts before the Order even realizes she's there. And all of Esta's training has been for one final job: traveling back to 1902 to steal an ancient book containing the secrets of the Order--and the Brink--before the Magician can destroy it and doom the Mageus to a hopeless future.  But Old New York is a dangerous world ruled by ruthless gangs and secret societies, a world where the very air crackles with magic. Nothing is as it seems, including the Magician himself. And for Esta to save her future, she may have to betray everyone in the past.

Song of the Dark Crystal #2 by JM Lee (7/18): The second original companion novel to Jim Henson's The Dark Crystal follows Naia and Kylan as they seek help from the Gelfling clans to prevent the Skeksis from implementing the next stage of their sinister plan.  Kylan of Sami Thicket is a skilled song teller, but singing the tales of long-gone heroes won't help his friends as they journey into dangerous, unknown lands. After uncovering the betrayal of the Skeksis Lords, he and his friend Naia are on the run, pursued by the Skeksis's underlings and outcast even among their fellow Gelfling. But Kylan knows the truth must be told, no matter how difficult the telling. Maybe there's use for a song teller after all . . .  Jim Henson's The Dark Crystal is one of the most beloved and enduring fantasy stories of the past thirty years. This series of young adult novels will both please the diehard fans and bring new fans in to the world of The Dark Crystal.

16 Ways to Break a Heart by Lauren Strasnick (7/25): Unfolding through letters, texts, and chats, Lauren Strasnick's smart, sexy, page-turning new novel is the ultimate he said/she said breakdown of a relationship gone wrong.Natalie and Dan were electric from the moment they met. Witty banter and sizzling chemistry made falling in love easy--even inevitable. He was in awe of her subversive art and contagious zest for life; she was drawn to his good-guy charm and drive to succeed as a documentary filmmaker. But that was before. Before hot tempers turned to blowout fights. Before a few little lies turned to broken trust. Before a hundred tiny slights broke them open and exposed the ugly truth of their relationship. And now Natalie wants Dan to know just how much he broke her. Over the course of one fateful day, Dan reads sixteen letters that Natalie has secretly, brilliantly hidden in places only he will find. And as he pieces together her version of their love story, he realizes that she has one final message for him. One that might just send his carefully constructed life tumbling down.

Buried Heart by Kate Elliott (7/25): In this third book in the epic Court of Fives series, Jessamy is the crux of a revolution forged by the Commoner class hoping to overthrow their longtime Patron overlords. But enemies from foreign lands have attacked the kingdom, and Jes must find a way to unite the Commoners and Patrons to defend their home and all the people she loves. Will her status as a prominent champion athlete be enough to bring together those who have despised one another since long before her birth? Will she be able to keep her family out of the clutches of the evil Lord Gargaron? And will her relationship with Prince Kalliarkos remain strong when they find themselves on opposite sides of a war? Find all the answers in this beautifully written and exciting conclusion to World Fantasy Award finalist Kate Elliott's debut New York Times bestselling young adult trilogy!

Daughter of the Burning City by Amanda Foody (7/25): A darkly irresistible new fantasy set in the infamous Gomorrah Festival, a traveling carnival of debauchery that caters to the strangest of dreams and desires. Sixteen-year-old Sorina has spent most of her life within the smoldering borders of the Gomorrah Festival. Yet even among the many unusual members of the traveling circus-city, Sorina stands apart as the only illusion-worker born in hundreds of years. This rare talent allows her to create illusions that others can see, feel and touch, with personalities all their own. Her creations are her family, and together they make up the cast of the Festival's Freak Show.But no matter how lifelike they may seem, her illusions are still just that--illusions, and not truly real. Or so she always believed...until one of them is murdered.Desperate to protect her family, Sorina must track down the culprit and determine how they killed a person who doesn't actually exist. Her search for answers leads her to the self-proclaimed gossip-worker Luca. Their investigation sends them through a haze of political turmoil and forbidden romance, and into the most sinister corners of the Festival. But as the killer continues murdering Sorina's illusions one by one, she must unravel the horrifying truth before all her loved ones disappear...

Lucky in Love by Kasie West (7/25): Maddie's not impulsive. She's all about hard work and planning ahead. But one night, on a whim, she buys a lottery ticket. And then, to her astonishment --  She wins!  In a flash, Maddie's life is unrecognizable. No more stressing about college scholarships. Suddenly, she's talking about renting a yacht. And being in the spotlight at school is fun... until rumors start flying, and random people ask her for loans. Now, Maddie isn't sure who she can trust. Except for Seth Nguyen, her funny, charming coworker at the local zoo. Seth doesn't seem aware of Maddie's big news. And, for some reason, she doesn't want to tell him. But what will happen if he learns her secret?  With tons of humor and heart, Kasie West delivers a million-dollar tale of winning, losing, and falling in love.