#small rant but man everything is just feeling so awful on the internet

[pumpkinsouppe]

I really need to find something to supplement what I watch/listen to while I draw that isn’t YouTube

With all the extensions to block certain aspects of YouTube videos it’s become so unusable where the video is refusing to play 50% of the time (and honestly I only have like 2 or three, with the sponsor skip plugin being the nail in the coffin)

Not only that but I’ve had to drop a lot of the usual content I do watch because so many YouTubers are promoting companies like betterhelp to this very day. Along with that, other than the educational videos I’ll sometimes watch (mostly pertaining to art advice or along those lines), I feel like the platform has become so oversaturated with the same content and it’s all reaction content about the exact same thing over and over and ughhhhhh

Maybe I’ll switch to audiobooks but my library has like a 4 week wait period for each audiobook and the benefit of YouTube videos is I don’t have to super pay attention to an overarching plot, which with audiobooks I will have a to rewind a bit especially if I get lost in thought during my art. But ugh idk I feel like the only time I should open YouTube is if I want to watch a gaming let’s play which is already a dying form of video styles or if I want to learn a skill or watch a tutorial which is smth I don’t want to actively watch 24/7 (only occasionally)

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

A Changed Future (1): Yandere Isekai 

When you woke after an especially tiresome day the last thing you’d expect was to reawake in a room that looked nothing like your own

The house, the neighborhood, your job everything was not your own

Instead, it’s resembling a webtoon you remember seeing the marketing, edits, and spoilers for

And if it was all adding up right you’d find the horrifying truth behind the controversial protagonist of the story would be incredibly true

“Look I’m sorry I yelled…I love you…I’m really hungry. Can I eat today?”

The beautiful and practically perfect protagonist was the one who trapped their love interest inside their–now your basement

Chained to the floor on a chair in the dark with unfinished surroundings was the poor victim of the yandere protagonist

Haruko, is an average guy who previously caught the protagonist’s attention by standing up to one an influential pair of elitists in defense of their crush but that’s hearsay

In the former protagonist's atmosphere the children of the rich were victims to their family’s whims often protecting their wealth rather than their children

Which caused Haruko to defend his friend from their overbearing parents

That is when the protagonist suddenly fell deeply in love with the average fellow 

Obsessively stalking him and eliminating their rivals by any means necessary

finally snatching their love and running to a small little home where they planned to have their dreamy life 

Of course, after breaking his spirit and having Haruko develop some kind of stockholm syndrome

To find that you’ve been isekai’d is jarring 

But being a protagonist that had the internet raving for years about how unhealthy they were is awful

But it was nothing when you were standing at the top of the stairs and watching the malnourished man call out to you

“Yeah….sure.”

Naturally you calm down, enough to make the poor guy something to eat and drink

Excusing yourself to have a breakdown in the bathroom before coming up with a plan to fix it all

“Y-you’re letting me go?”

“Yes, I won’t stop if you want to go to the police…but I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t.”

You felt so selfish 

But you weren’t the one who imprisoned him

Now that you were though you were going to turn a new leaf

After feeding him, clothing him, and giving him a hefty sum from the protagonists savings 

You go to their place of work where they’re in line for a promotion

“I quit.”

“E-excuse me (L/n)?! But your about to become the vice president of the company!?”

“I know. Sorry?”

You almost feel bad turning down the CEO who visits to try and reason with you

In your opinion, the protagonist didn’t deserve any of their success

They technically didn’t need it because they were stacked

Same could be said for the detective thats been constantly asking the protagonist questions

“You are actually agreeing to talk with me?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you hit your head?!”

With the knowledge from spoilers and ads you’d seen, you knew that the worst part of this story is that the protagonist is doing just fine while Haruka continues to struggle with his captivity and manufactured feelings

You want to do this right, whether you were meant to live in this world from now on or would one day return to your own

But in the meantime you’d do what you felt was right 

Turning their life—now your life around to somehow try to condone for all the crimes they’ve done

Unfortunately, though things don’t seem to want to go your way

“Please Please take me back!” 

“What?”

“You heard me! You were right you’re the only one who loves me! I love you! Please! Please! Take me back in your basement!”

“Okay?”

It seems that once you released the poor guy he returned to society

Expecting to be welcomed by his friends and family upon being missing for years

Who instead had moved on or had benefitted from him being declared dead

He tried to go back to working but he couldn’t get you out of his head

Not the one that ranted about adoring him and the one that would go days without feeding him

But the one that cried when you saw his skin bruising in his chains

The one that fed him a hot meal 

The one that helped him relearn to use his weakened legs

The one that keeps apologizing for every little thing you do

That’s the you, he likes

And he’d much prefer he turn back to being a victim trapped in your basement if it meant having you back in his life

“I don’t mind if you stay here if you need but I’m not keeping you trapped here. I won’t do it anymore.”

He cries and bangs his hands on the floor when you officially tell him

But he’ll take you up on your offer to move in with you

“Good morning (Y/n)! Since you quit your job you’re getting up so much later now. You’ve got to be careful waking too late.”

“Uhm how do you know I quit my job?”

“Unless you're locking me in the basement you don’t need to know!~”

He’s like a weird roommate who occasionally asks that you restrain him in some way

Purposefully rummaging in your storage to find ropes that you haven’t thrown away yet or buying them himself and leaving them out

“Ooops~! I did leave a chain out while cleaning! I’m so bad, being so careless even though you’ve been so against it. I should be punished! I know, you should tie me up! Right? Right? Right?”

He’s going insane everytime you refuse his demands to be locked away

You’re even sweeter now that he’s not locked away and that’s not helping

He’ll ultimately decide he should try it

“Hey (Y/n)?”

“Yes?”

“You still feel guilty about what you did to me right?”

“...Yes.”

“Then how about you do something for me? To make up for it?”

Even if you know you’ve done nothing wrong 

The guilt doesn’t stop you

Letting him lock you in the basement as he repeats some of the same punishments he remembers

Or rather tries to

“I just can’t seem to stand being away from you for a day, let alone not feed you then. I have no idea how you did it.”

You couldn’t be sure either

Which is why you don’t protest as his actions tend to get a bit more…wild

“Like you suggested I did try going for that new job again.”

“Uh that’s good.”

“I know since you’ve left they seem to be desperately searching for extra hands. I’d feel bad for them if you weren’t with me!”

“Right…”

“But being away from you all day is killing me! Maybe I should look for a more remote position.”

He treats you better than the former protagonist did 

Quickly moving you up to your old room and just chaining you there

But he wants more from you 

More Kisses

More Cuddles 

More Romance 

More Touching

More Quality time

He takes up so much of it, that the same problems that happened in the webtoon were happening again

Except this time it was related to you

“I’m Revmere the CEO of the Revere Co. I’m wondering is (Y/n) home? I’ve been trying to reach them by phone but it hasn’t been going through.”

“And I’m Detective Cape. Thomas Cape, I also need to speak with (Y/n) and you too if that’s alright Haruko.”

Part 2: Coming Soon

[bondsmagii]

Dude I've just been seeing the worst fucking takes ever in the internet these paste few days that come from a good place but are absolutely misjudged and just bad and I feel like I'm losing it

Saw a post about how Tom Hanks said he wouldn't play a gay character anymore which fuels the idea that an actor has to match the sexuality of the character it portrays which means an actor has to expose their sexuality and justify it to be able to play a character and it just sets the precedent for such a storm of shit and while it comes from a good palce it's just so very stupid and not well thought at all. Like don't people see the harm such a thing can do? Don't they see that demanding such things can only end up bad, including to the LGBT community?

I don't even know if you would agree with this but I just needed to rant because lately people's desire to be progressive have been so extreme they do a full 360 and end up being just a new shape of what they previously fought about and I'm sickkkkkk of these god awful takes that come from 2 seconds of reasoning

Also have a lot of thoughts about culture appropriation and how a movement that came to demand respect has become something that separates people and ignores the blatant human fact that culture's whole point is to be shared and it always has been and that is through cultural sharing we understand each other and why on earth would you want to segregate human interaction goes beyond me like honestly, especially the ones that approach your culture with appreciation and desire to partake (yes I did saw a post saying only Mexican people can cook Mexican food and lost it)

Anyways I think I'm officially clinically online but if those movements spread and stick, movements that come to segregate and categorize people, all in the name of diversity while being the opposite if it, I'm a legit lose it.

man, I get you. I've been saying shit like this will happen for years, and what do you know. I was right.

it really is almost comical how these people, in their fight to be progressive or improve things, will end up circling back around. they'll either start campaigning for the exact same thing as the people and causes they profess to be against, or they'll start using the same language/rhetoric and acting in equally harmful ways, or they'll actively improve the situation for the people they're supposed to be against. this is what happens no matter how seemingly small the issue is. forcing people to out themelves so they can write fanfic without getting abuse; expecting people to list their disabilities, triggers, and mental illnesses publicly just so they can feel "safe" knowing that this person isn't overstepping the mark; demanding constant reassurance and moralising and virtue signalling to make themselves feel better about associating with the "right" people; demanding everyone tags everything even remotely triggering no matter how vague the reference and disregarding that this is both horribly entitled and also completely ineffective; literally re-inventing segregation because of this "cultural appropriation" bullshit... they've been taking real issues and real terms for years and watering them down to such an extent that I don't take any accusations even remotely seriously anymore. it's caused exponential harm and has made it extremely difficult to know who's actually dangerous and who just likes a ship the OP hates.

really, it's all about entitlement and virtue signalling. I've said it before and I'll say it every fucking time: these people don't have the balls to do anything worthwhile, they can't be fucked to do real activism, they feel guilty about it, and so they focus all their attention on absolute non-issues so they can pretend like they're contributing. they actively make the world a worse place, and I hold them just as responsible for the state of things now as I do the alt-right. at the end of the day, they can dress it up under different politics, but they all want the same thing: complete censorship, complete control, people forced to out themselves, racial segregation, and above all else, power. maybe if they did something useful with their lives, and found a true sense of fulfilment, they wouldn't be so desperate that they act like this. people like this are genuinely just unintelligent. there's no other way to say it and no other way to explain it: they're thick.

[ur-favorite-queer-queen]

Last Time

For Maribat March day 5 theme last time 

Master List

Another akuma. 

Another person she had to save.

Another time she had to face Chat Noir and his god-awful flirting. 

Another night of almost no rest. 

Another day of lying to her neglectful parents. 

She hated it. She hated it all. The akumas, the flirting, the sleepless nights, the punishments from people who barely gave her the time of day. She hated her life. So it was of no surprise to herself when she snapped. However, Chat Noir was surprised and so was Paris. 

It was like any other akuma battle. She defeated the akuma while Chat sat back and watched, only stepping in to complain or flirt. Chat tried to come up and force his feelings onto her even though she didn’t feel the same. But something about this was different. It was like something in her snapped. 

She sure as hell didn’t want this to be her life, not anymore. But why wasn’t she doing anything? Why wasn’t she standing up for herself? She was Ladybug and the Guardian of the miraculous god dammit! She could do something about her situation. 

The decision she made was on impulse but she didn’t regret it. The alley cat was too busy ranting about how made for each other they were that he didn’t notice her until it was too late.

She grabbed his wrist and plucked the ring off him. Several emotions passed through his face, shock, hurt, anger, sadness, but she didn’t care about them. Because of course, the person behind the mask was the one helping her suffering in her civilian life. Adrien fucking Agreste! 

She ignored his cries for her to give his miraculous back, or for her to reveal herself to him, it was “only fair”, instead going straight back home. She grabbed the miraculous box, transformed with Kaalki once her ladybug transformation dropped, portaled to a field outside the city, and cried. For a good hour she just cried. Sad tears that it was Adrien under the mask, and happy tears that it was the last time she would have to deal with Chat. 

Once her tears had subsided she released all the kwami and asked the question that had been plaguing her mind. 

“What do I do now?” 

-

When the next akuma attack happened, everyone expected Ladybug and Chat Noir to appear. But that’s not what happened. Instead new heroes appeared beside Ladybug including a new cat. It took 30 minutes for the new team to defeat the akuma. When with Chat Noir it took hours. 

The new team disappeared as quickly as they came, but an hour later an interview was posted. The lucky interviewer being Aurore Beaureal, creator of ByeByeButterfly.com. 

It was there that the new team was introduced. There were new horse, snake, turtle, bee, fox, and cat holders that were permanent. Midnight, Murder Hornet, Red Illusion, Peridot Protector, Medusa, and Mustang were here to stay. No one could change Ladybug’s mind.

At first, the public was mad. Where were their old heroes? But no one could complain 6 months later when Gabriel Agreste and Natalie Sancour were being arrested for terrorizing Paris as Hawkmoth and Mayura. 

People cried. People screamed. For the first time in years the people of Paris safely let their emotions out. It was a happy day for everyone, her team included even though she had to take back their miraculouses, so why wasn’t she happy. 

That was the start of her rant accounts. When she needed to rant she chose one of her apps and ranted. Simple as that, especially since it was anonymous. She ranted about everything from school, a blond creep who wouldn't leave her alone, and her neglectful parents.

Turns out there are people on the internet who can be very wise. Especially this one account, Death Can’t Stop Me!, she wondered if it was inspired by Twice. Sure, their relationship started out rocky since the first thing he messaged her was basically offering to beat up Adrien, no that he knew that, up. But once they moved past that he ended up giving her the best advice, which was to get emancipated, change her name, and move schools. He even volunteered his last name. 

So at 17 years old Marinette Dupain-Cheng became Margot Todd and now attended Willow Academy. She ended up crashing at Chloe’s until she could find a place for herself which was a small apartment near her school. 

Not only that but once she graduated and turned 18 she moved to New York under an internship with the famous Style Queen, Audrey Bourgeois. 

Which has led her here, standing in the middle of a park near her apartment waiting for one Jason Todd to show up. What if he was some creepy 50 year old dude and not the nice 21 year old guy she had been talking to. What if it was a group planning to kidnap her behind the account? Out of all her ideas this was the absolute worst. 

“Marinette!” Plagg whisper-shouted from inside her coat. 

“What is it Plagg?” Marinette questioned, trying to appear casual and not like she was talking to herself. 

“Stop trying to look normal, you just end up looking more crazy. Also to your left, I think that’s him.” Marinette immediately turned to her left where she locked eyes with a giant. There was no other way to describe him, he was a giant. 

Like what genes did he have to be that massive? And he was coming towards her. Yep, worst idea ever.

“Margot right?” He asked. 

“Yeah, Jason right?” She clarified, while on the inside she was screaming at herself. 

“Yep, man you are so much smaller in person. Like a little pixie.” He commented. 

“Says you sasquatch! What are you, 7ft!” 

“Nope, 6’1.” 

“Oh my god.” 

And thus blossomed the start of a beautiful friendship. Where half the time the little pixie was either beating up or berating the sasquatch. 

Bonus -

“Yo Jay!” 

“Yeah!”

“We should start a tik tok account!” 

“We already have our own though!”

“Yeah but like a shared one!” 

“WHY?” 

“THINK OF THE CHAOS! LIKE IMAGINE OF YOUR FAMILY FOUND OUT!” 

“...Ok I’m sold!”

“YAY!” 

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

This is the prequel/part 2 to yesterday’s prompt, Internet Friends. I try and I try to have an update schedule for this. I tell myself don’t post so late. But life just loves to tell me I can never win. I started writing and then I got lazy, so sorry for the terrible post. I promised you guys I would have something and this is what I produced and I’m so sorry for my laziness. Tomorrow’s post will be better. 

@maribatmarch-2k21 

[butgilinsky]

incase you don’t live forever // rc

warning; ig it alludes to death, it’s fluffy until it’s angsty

summary; rafe loves y/n more than she’ll ever wrap her head around

word count; 2k+

based on incase you don’t live forever by ben platt

You put all your faith in my dreams You gave me the world that I wanted What did I do to deserve you?

“baby!” y/n looked over her shoulder, smiling widely and completely forgetting about the conversation she was previously immersed in when her eyes landed on a smiling rafe. 

he jogged the short distance over to her and wrapped his long arms around her waist, lifting her off of the ground and twirling her in the air. the girl squealed, but it only made rafe laugh and smile even brighter before he set her back down. 

“what’s got you so happy?” it wasn’t the rafe didn’t act like this around her, but it was something he often saved for less public occasions, and given their spot in the middle of a crowded beach, it shocked her slightly. 

“my dad agreed to let me sit it on his meetings this week. he also told me this morning that i get to go to the bahamas with him next week for that trip he has planned.” y/n’s smile almost reached her ears by the time rafe stopped talking. she had never seen rafe so excited about something so mundane, and it made her heart soar. 

“i’m so happy for you.” her voice was soft, but rafe heard every word spill from her lips. “i told you you could do it.”

he hugged her again, both of them smiling and laughing into each other. rafe was finally dipping his feet into the right pool, and was finding something worth his time. y/n always supported rafe’s dreams to implement himself in his father’s business, and now it seemed that it was all paying off. 

“we can go celebrate by stealing wine out of my mom’s cellar and taking the boat out.” y/n’s lips were pressed close to rafe’s ear, her voice sending a chill down his spine. 

“what did i do to deserve you?” he pressed his lips to her temple, careful not to make too much noise when he pulled away so she wouldn’t flinch at the sound. 

“you’re perfectly yourself, rafe cameron.”

I follow your steps with my feet I walk on the road that you started I need you to know that I heard you, every word

rafe trailed her, digging his feet into the footprints she left in the sand behind her. he stayed close behind, but gave her a bit of space as she wandered the shore’s edge. 

he held both of their shoes, one pair hanging from each of his hand while he watched the girl in front of him make irregular patterns in the sand with her feet.

rafe had lost track of how many topics she’d run through while she ranted about anything and everything. it started off with her mom dragging her to brunch again that morning, something she dreaded every sunday morning. now it was something about how her older sister was coming back to the island from college, and y/n would have to share the vodka stored away in the liquor cabinet. 

she spun around on the balls of her feet, stopping in place and crossing her arms over her chest as she pouted at the boy behind her. he laughed gently, closing the distance between them and wrapping his arms around her waist. 

“why are you pouting?” he kissed her lips, successfully getting her to suck in the lip that she had puffed out in a small pout. 

“did you even hear anything i just said?” he smiled widely at the girl, a warmth spreading through his chest as he pressed his lips against her forehead. 

“every word, princess.” 

In case you don't live forever, let me tell you now I love you more than you'll ever wrap your head around In case you don't live forever, let me tell you the truth I'm everything that I am because of you

he doesn’t remember a time where he wasn’t filled to the brim with love for the girl. the girl that would sneak him through her window when either of them were having a bad night. the girl that would stay on the phone with him all night long when insomnia kicked his ass, even if she had a final the next morning. 

the girl that would dance around her room in nothing but one of his shirts that was too big for her, holding the neck of a wine bottle and letting every melody flow through her body like she had made it herself. the girl that somehow fit in every bit of his life as if they were perfectly sculpted for one another. 

but above all else, the sight of her laying on top of him, even if it was just her head in his lap while he mindlessly played with her hair, was his favorite sight. she looked up at him, eyes locking with the blue pair that had been trained on her for an unknown amount of time. 

“you’re staring.” she whispered softly, but he just nodded. he did it often, and it came as a shock to nobody, but it still caught her off guard every single time. “what’s on your mind, cameron?” 

she sat up, moving into the boy’s lap like a dance she’d committed to muscle memory. his hands found her hips quickly, and her arms snaked over his shoulders while her hand threaded itself into the hair on the back of his head. 

“i love you more than you’ll ever wrap your head around.” she smiled widely at the confession, having heard the words drip from his tongue a few times before. the simple thread of words were something she never missed hearing rafe say before. 

“i’ll never love another person or thing as much as i love you, rafe cameron.” he let the smallest laugh pass his lips as he stared at the girl in his lap, not an ounce of worry or dread found within him in that moment. 

“I'm everything that I am because of you.” and it was true. 

she’d shown him that life is not all about being on top, or having people reassure you that you’re doing great. she showed him that he’d never get any reassurance in life from others until he found it within himself. she showed him how to be happy on his own, and in turn allowed himself to be happy alongside the girl of his dreams. 

I, I've carried this song in my mind Listen, it's echoing in me But I haven't helped you to hear it

“rafe, tell me what’s wrong.” she was confused, having watched the boy cry for the past hour without any indication of what had happened before he snuck through her window. 

“everything’s just piling up, y/n.” she sighed then. she knew rafe buried his problems and his feelings. he buried them so deep he convinced himself that he was truly okay. 

which only led these things to bubble over at some inevitable point, but y/n was always there to pick up the pieces. she held him, hand running up and down his back and thumb wiping away the tears on his cheeks. 

“you can’t keep burying these things, rafe. you have to talk to me.” he nodded into her chest, knowing that he simply had to get better at opening up about things. 

and he would do better. better for her and better for himself.

I've waited way too long to say Everything you mean to me

he couldn’t believe what life had handed him. he couldn’t thank the universe enough for the girl they had perfectly built for him. he couldn’t believe that she had slummed it with him for the past three years, but he wouldn’t have taken a second of it back. 

he couldn’t believe that life could take a complete 180 in mere hours. he couldn’t believe that one single moment of time, one bad decision, could bring him to this uncomfortable plastic chair, waiting for her name to ring through the waiting room. 

his leg was bouncing so quickly it had stressed out topper enough to ask him to calm down, more than once. but how was he supposed to calm down when he had no idea what was going to happen? 

had he waited too long? he knows he’d said ‘i love you’ enough times to last a lifetime, but he thought he’d be able to say it for a lifetime. he though that he’d have more time.

more time to tell her everything he loved about her. more time to watch her dance to songs even when her hips were affected by alcohol. time to hear her sing his favorite songs at an hour where they weren’t sure it was morning or nighttime anymore. 

time to hear her laugh, even if it was at how bad his joke was. time to watch her eyes light up when he brought her coffee after a long night. time to listen to her read poems to him that she found on the internet. he thought he had time.  I have a hero whenever I need one I just look up to you and I see one I'm a man 'cause you taught me to be one

he remembered the time his hands were shaking so bad that she had to tie his tie for him. he’d taught her how to do it one day after she begged him. 

“it’ll be cute! i can tie your ties before you go off to work in the morning. or, i can tie our son’s ties before graduations and parties that he doesn’t want to go to.” rafe was smiling at her, wondering if she realized the rant she had fallen into. 

“our son? you want to have kids, baby?” her cheeks tinted red as she realized what she had said. 

“yeah, i mean, uh- is that what you want?” he kissed her forehead and then her lips, smiling widely when their foreheads pressed together. 

“i want everything with you.” 

she tied the tie quickly now, her fingers working with the fabric as though she’d done this for years. her hands smoothed the lapels of his jacket before she grabbed his shoulders softly. 

“you’re going to be great, okay? just laugh at their awful jokes, and smile when you greet people. shake their hands firm enough to get a compliment on your grip, but not so much that they joke about you ripping their arm off.” rafe was nodding, taking in every bit of information that she offered him. 

“okay, i think i got it.” she smiled widely and kissed his lips. 

“you got this, baby. knock ‘em dead.”  In case you don't live forever, let me tell you now I love you more than you'll ever wrap your head around In case you don't live forever, let me tell you the truth I'm everything that I am

he cried when he saw her, needles in her arm and bandages wrapped around various parts of her body. her eyes were open, which only let him see how much pain she was in. to anybody else, it was nothing more than a tired or scared expression, but to rafe it was devastating. 

he didn’t know how he was ever meant to get in a car again. how he could sit behind the wheel and look out of the shield of glass in front of him without remembering what the love of his life had to go through. he didn’t know if he’d make it out of this.

her parents left the room when rafe walked in, leaving him with a hug from her mother and a clap on the back from her father. he pulled a chair up next to her bed and held her hand in his tightly. 

“i’ll be okay.” she whispered softly, trying to assure rafe that whatever was happening to her would end however it was meant to be. 

“what if i’m not?” he looked up at her, all confidence that he had previously washed away within seconds. 

“you’re going to be better than okay. whatever happens will happen, and you’ll live your life however you’re supposed to, okay?” she reached out to wipe away his tears, letting rafe see and feel how much her hand was shaking. 

“baby.” he spoke softly, leaning into her touch and filling her hand with fresh tears. 

“it’s going to be okay, rafe. i love you more than life itself, baby.” he choked out a sob at the words she picked out, the situation at hand playing into it all too well. “I love you more than you'll ever wrap your head around.”

he smiled at the familiar words, though it didn’t make him cry any less. 

“I'm everything that I am because of you, y/n.”

In case you don't live forever, let me tell you the truth As long as I'm here as I am, so are you

-

you interpret the ending, bbies

[lesbianlovelanguage]

YOUTUBER AU I’m such a fucking sucker for those. It can be anything you want really. Maybe they are friends doing a challenge or something and they end up kissing (or more ;)) or they could meet each other at like a creator even and take a pic together and everyone starts to ship them... :)

HI! Anon I am so sorry, life has been *general handwaving* a MESS. But, I’ve finally gotten most of my shit together and look! A fic! Finally!!! I hope you enjoy two ridiculous boys being ridiculous.

---

“You guys asked for it, and here it is. The explanation to Bendy and the Ink Machine! Now, I’ve watched a ton of playthroughs of this, especially The RatKing’s, as well as played through it myself, and I think I’ve got it.” 

Such a simple statement, it made it through both of the editors as well as Steve and Dustin themselves without raising any red flags. But as with everything, once it had been released on the internet it became fuel for fans to break apart and over analyze. 

The comments started pouring in, the standard mix of support and people trying to break apart his theory. But one comment in particular would stand out and begin something so much bigger than itself. 

Twenty minutes after Steve had pressed upload, someone with the username Random Hoe posted a comment saying Awe! A collab between you and Billy would be totes amazing!! While an innocent comment in itself, it began to pick up steam as people ranted and demanded for the two popular youtubers to interact more. It turned from video ideas to outright shipping within two hours, and only five hours after the video had been up, people began tagging Steve on Twitter with everything from edited screen grabs to fanart and video edits, all about Steve and Billy’s secret yet undying love for each other. 

Steve had almost quit Youtube as the fanbase for what had been dubbed “Stilly” steadily grew and became all the more ravenous. There were less and less comments and reactions to his theories, whether movie, video game, or even book related, and more and more comments about how he needed to do a collab with Billy ASAP, and how he’s queerbaiting, and how it’s okay to come out, it was 20Gayteen after all. He had tried to do damage control, but it only made things worse. 

And then someone showed Billy, and Steve not only wanted to quit Youtube, but also crawl under a rock. 

Billy’s only reaction to someone sending him a picture of Steve and Billy during a live stream was “Nice art, like the hair,” but Steve could have sworn his mouth twitched down in a grimace before Billy recovered his composure. 

But Dustin had convinced Steve to keep going, and with two months of no recognition or new content, the frenzy of Stilly shipping died down. It never disappeared, but no one sent anymore art to Billy and stopped tagging Steve in all of their posts. That had been in February. 

Vidcon was in June, and Stilly was the least of Steve’s worries. He’d been asked to host a panel on the new game show he and Dustin had begun hosting on Youtube TV about pop culture trivia, and then host a live episode with various Youtube guests as competitors. It promised to be relatively simple, a simple explanation of the origin and behind-the-scenes and a simple Q&A session followed by what he spent every Thursday doing for the past two months. And it was, him and Dustin breezing through the panel bouncing off of each other and the first round of Did You Know? You Don’t Say? flying by as the famed beauty guru aced almost every question. But once the second guest stepped on stage, Steve knew it was all going to go to shit. 

Because Billy Hargrove, The Rat King himself, swaggered out on the stage in flip flops and an Everlast crop top and flopped into the contestant’s chair with a smirk. Steve froze, mouth suddenly drier than a desert. 

Luckily, Dustin didn’t even stutter. “Ah! The next victim. Should we go easy on him?” He waggled his eyebrows as he asked the audience. The audience shouting brought Steve out of his daze, and with a shake of his head, he turned and spread his arms out wide. 

“Well then, let’s begin. So, Billy, Do you know what the rarest MnM color is?” 

The cocky smirk melted off of Billy’s face, replaced by one of thoughtful determination. He’s silent for only a moment before he looks up and says, “Brown, like your eyes, Pretty Boy.” Steve feels his pale skin flush with heat, but he coughs and tries to play it off.

“Quite the charmer there, Rat King. Luckily, your lines are actually true. One point! Let’s see it!” He calls out and then looks behind him to the television screen currently displaying the scoreboard. A large blocky 1 appears and the audience cheers. 

“Alrighty then,” Dustin says after the crowd dies down. “Next question. Billy, Do you know the original name of Istanbul?” Billy chuckles, and shakes his head.

“Easy. Constantinople.”

Dustin fake pouts and looks over to Billy. “None of that Rat King charm for me?” The audience laughs, and Billy chuckles before throwing a wink at Dustin.

“Not quite old enough to ride this ride, bud.” 

Dustin scoffs and shakes his head, making the curls bounce around wildly. “Whatever you say, old man. You did get it right by the way. Let me see another point!” Dustin mimics Steve and gestures towards the scoreboard which now shows a big, white 2. 

“Your turn, Pretty Boy. Give me something hard.”

“Alright. Let’s see.” Steve pretends to look over his notes before seeing the perfect question. “So, Billy, Do you know which two American states don’t observe daylight savings time?” Billy stares blankly at Steve. This was the final question in their lineup, but he had asked for a hard question. 

Luckily, Billy recovers quickly and clears his throat before giving another chuckle. “Damn, I know I said give me a hard one, but I wasn’t expecting that. I’m gonna go with Hawaii and Alaska?” Steve shakes his head and gives a small sigh. 

Dustin gives a little cheer, and then runs over to a table off to the side of the stage where they have a cue card that the contestant has to read off of if they lose. It was Dustin’s idea, the You don’t say? part of the title. It’s his favorite part of the show, because they get to see their contestants say some ridiculous things.

“Well, unfortunately, that was incorrect,” Steve announces over the booing audience. “And, following the rules, you now have to read whatever is on this card.” Dustin hands Billy the cue card with a wicked grin. 

Billy sighs and flips over the card. There’s a moment of silence as he reads over what the card says, and then he looks up at Steve and clears his throat.

“Would a Pretty Boy want to go out with me?” He says in a clear voice, gaze never leaving Steve’s. 

Suddenly too many things for Steve to process happen at once. He feels the heat return to his cheeks and his mouth dry out again, the audience goes wild, and a buzzer sounds, signaling that they were out of time for Did You Know? You Don’t Say? Dustin comes through and pushes a frozen Steve off-stage, where Billy is waiting in the wings. With the audience’s weighty gaze gone, the feeling returns to Steve all at once.

“What the hell man? What was that out there?” He hissed at Billy. The man simply shrugs and gives another one of his trademark smirks.

“Just giving the people what they want, Princess. Try to keep up.” And then he turns around, and walks away. Simple as that. Nothing to it. 

Steve wants to scream. Fortunately, he and Dustin have been friends for years, and he knows all of Steve’s tics by now. The stagehands shoo them from the wings, and he pulls Steve through one of the backdoors to outside the convention center. Somehow, he also procures a water bottle in the hustle, and hands it to Steve once they’re both sitting on the steps outside. Steve takes the water bottle gratefully and chugs half of it in one long gulp. He pulls it away and wipes at his face before sighing. He seems to deflate, like a balloon losing all of its helium at once, and Dustin puts an arm around him. It’s awkward because he’s shorter than Steve, but it’s still comforting nonetheless. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Dustin asks quietly.

“I- I’m so stupid. For just a second I thought it was real, but why would it be? What would someone like him see in someone like me?” Dustin lets out a huff before pulling away and turning towards Steve.

“Steve, buddy, pal o’ mine. You’re an idiot. If anything, he doesn’t deserve you. He’s a pompous ass for pulling a stunt like that. It’s bullshit.” 

“He could have anyone. Between his paycheck and his pecs, he’s one of Youtube’s hottest content creators.”

“Yeah, sure. But for the sake of alliteration, he also lacks personality. The guy’s a huge dick! And he proved it today. He knew that you wouldn’t shut him down and bitch him out on stage, so he thought it would be funny to pull that shit.”

“Yeah, he is kind of just a publicity-seeking asshole, you’re right,” Steve admits, feeling a little better, and a lot angrier. “You know what, Dusty-Poo? I’m gonna find him, and give him a piece of my mind.” He stands up, itching for a fight and knowing who to go find for one.

“Tha-that’s not exactly what I meant but sure! Go knock him down a peg.” Dustin stands up as well and follows Steve back onto the main showfloor. 

It takes about twenty minutes to find Billy amongst the crowd but Steve sees him, and locks in like a tiger stalking his prey. Or something cool like that. Thankfully, Steve doesn’t have to make a huge scene as he walks up to Billy and gets in his face. 

“You. Me. Conference Room 3. Now,” Steve says, poking a finger in the middle of Billy’s chest to emphasize his point. Billy chuckles, but still follows along as they walk into the empty conference room. Once they clear the doors and Steve hears them swing shut behind them, he turns to Billy.

“Explain. What the fuck was the point of that little,” he wavs his hand around, “stunt you pulled during the game show?” 

Billy raises an eyebrow. “Told you Pretty Boy. I gave the people what they wanted. 

“So that’s it? It was a publicity stunt?” 

“You tell me. You’re the one who started the whole thing,” Billy shoots back, still holding on to an air of nonchalance, but Steve can his patience waning.

“You- you mean the stuff from February? When I happened to mention you in one video? You think I meant for that shitstorm to start, for fun and publicity?” 

Billy only shrugs again.

“Okay. Nope. Again, I mentioned your channel one time, as a source. Gave credit where credit was due. I do it for all the channels I watch! I’ve mentioned Nancy’s channel like 8 times, and Jonathan’s too. Never had this shit started with them.”

“They’re married, Steve. Like super married. Of course it wouldn’t. We’re both single, queer youtubers. Of course shit’s gonna stop. Didn’t your agent or whoever look over your video?”

Steve huffs. “Oh yeah, let me just go hire an agent, cause I have such a need for someone to monitor my every move,” Steve snarked. Billy just looked at him like he had failed to add 2 and 3.

“You’re telling me you, part of one of the biggest channels on Youtube, don’t have an agent?” 

“We’re not one of the biggest channels, and we’ve never needed one! We’ve got our team of editors and assistants, no need for some agent.”

“Steve,” Billy says patiently, like he was explaining something to a child, “You have over 4 million subscribers. That’s a big channel.” 

“We’re still not one of the biggest channels, dipshit.”

“Oh, I'm the dipshit? I didn’t start a fucking fandom frenzy apparently by accident. Because I was smart and got a fucking agent.”

“You’re such an asshole.” 

“Whatever you say Princess.”

“Stop fucking calling me a princess!” Steve screams, voice booming in the silent conference room. “Why do you do that? Pretty Boy, Princess, Stevie? Just- just stop with the fucking nicknames. It’s not fair.” The second part of his outburst comes out as a whisper, sounding almost desperate. 

Billy was at a loss for words, but then again, he had always been more of a man of action. 

So he says nothing, only gives a seconds’ thought of what he was going to do, before lunging forward and doing it. 

Steve’s next words are muffled as Billy crashes their lips together with absolutely no finesse, teeth clacking. It probably constituted as the worst kiss Billy has ever had, but as he moves back, Steve grabs a fist full of blond locks and pulls him forward. Their 

second kiss is far better. By no means is it soft, but that was just par for the course with them wasn’t it? 

The kiss comes to a natural ending as they both pull back to breath, before Steve starts to giggle. 

“You really need to work on your pick-up lines, Rat King.”

A soft gasp from the doorway cuts off Billy’s retort, and they both turn to see a girl decked out in Youtube merch, including a jacket with the Upside Down Theories logo on it. She had dropped her backpack, and was open-mouthed gaping at the two. Her eyes are as wide as dinner plates as she frantically gathers up her backpack and shoots out of the conference room. 

“Chances that this blows up online by tomorrow?” Steve asks, turning to the blond next to him. 

“I’m betting in the next two hours, Pretty Boy,” Billy replies.

A wicked smirk creeps onto Steve’s lips as he shrugs and says, “Oops. What was that about getting an agent to help with this stuff?” 

---

Aside from this taking FOREVER, I hope you guys enjoy this! It was tons of fun to write.

tag team: @lostnoise @gideongrace @stevefuckingharrington @a-magey @catharrington @trashycatarcade @myboyfriendsteve @thesummerof84 @lightsupinthenorth @smashmouth-hargrove (lmk if you would like to be added/removed from the list!)

[welllpthisishappening]

Welllp These Are Books: the March 2021 Edition

There aren’t even any pictures! Except in that one book where there were pictures! It was weird! This was a weird book month! Back at it again with thoughts and opinions about a whole mess of books that no one explicitly asked for, but I’ve got lots of thoughts and opinions and they only count if I share them on the internet. Seriously, someone let me go to a baseball game soon. Obligatory warning for spoilers and vaguely unhinged rants under the cut. As always, feel free to come tell me what else I should be reading at literally any time ever.

Best Book of the Month Honors Goes to This Book, Even Though They Called It Halftime at a Hockey Game. A Hockey Game!

The Dating Plan by Sara Desai

Daisy Patel is a software engineer who understands lists and logic better than bosses and boyfriends. With her life all planned out, and no interest in love, the one thing she can't give her family is the marriage they expect. Left with few options, she asks her childhood crush to be her decoy fiancé. Liam Murphy is a venture capitalist with something to prove. When he learns that his inheritance is contingent on being married, he realizes his best friend's little sister has the perfect solution to his problem. A marriage of convenience will get Daisy's matchmaking relatives off her back and fulfill the terms of his late grandfather's will. If only he hadn’t broken her tender teenage heart nine years ago… Sparks fly when Daisy and Liam go on a series of dates to legitimize their fake relationship. Too late, they realize that very little is convenient about their arrangement. History and chemistry aren't about to follow the rules of this engagement.

— Ok, it’s important to know that I really did love this book. It hit all my trope-wants. Childhood friends, incredibly stupid misunderstandings, pining, seriously God the pining, fake engagement, BANTER. It was all going great. I was occasionally swooning. They kept making out! And then! THEN. They went to a hockey game. On a date. A fake date. Cool, cool, cool. All tropes, all the time right? Not so fast, internet! Because these self-proclaimed Sharks SUPER FANS referred to intermission as “halftime was coming up.” Halftime! At a hockey game! That’s—that’s not how hockey works! If this hadn’t been “traditionally” published, I probably could have let it slide. But that was not the case. This was a “real” book with, I can only assume, real editors. All of whom saw the words halftime and hockey near each other and we’re like YEAH, PRINT THAT SHIT. I read that at nearly one in the morning and seriously considered waking Justin up to be like CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS IS IN A REAL BOOK? Anyway, it was still real cute. Everyone lived happily ever after. It made want to eat samosas.

This Book Had Pictures, It Was Weird

Clean Sweep by Ilona Andrews

On the outside, Dina Demille is the epitome of normal. She runs a quaint Victorian Bed and Breakfast in a small Texas town, owns a Shih Tzu named Beast, and is a perfect neighbor, whose biggest problem should be what to serve her guests for breakfast. But Dina is...different:  Her broom is a deadly weapon; her Inn is magic and thinks for itself. Meant to be a lodging for otherworldly visitors, the only permanent guest is a retired Galactic aristocrat who can’t leave the grounds because she’s responsible for the deaths of millions and someone might shoot her on sight. Under the circumstances, "normal" is a bit of a stretch for Dina.

And now, something with wicked claws and deepwater teeth has begun to hunt at night...Feeling responsible for her neighbors, Dina decides to get involved. Before long, she has to juggle dealing with the annoyingly attractive, ex-military, new neighbor, Sean Evans—an alpha-strain werewolf—and the equally arresting cosmic vampire soldier, Arland, while trying to keep her inn and its guests safe. But the enemy she’s facing is unlike anything she’s ever encountered before. It’s smart, vicious, and lethal, and putting herself between this creature and her neighbors might just cost her everything.

— So, Ilona Andrews is a name that keeps coming up because when I borrow a book from the library I have to go through Kindle and Amazon is like...here are some other absurd fantasy romances you’d enjoy. Also, one of her other series had been recc’ed to me. Only problem? The first book in that series is the only book in that series not available at my library. So, I was like, ok, I’ll start this one instead. It was...weird. Honestly, it felt like I’d been dropped in the middle of the story and the narrator was like, well why don’t you already know what’s going on? In theory the world building was cool. (I was not expecting alien werewolves, lemme tell you that!) But also it all felt very rushed and the end just sorta happened.

In Which I Continue to Love “Same Verse” Books & No One Else Had Sex in the Port Jeff High School Dugout. For Which I Was Grateful

Love Her or Lose Her by Tessa Bailey

Rosie and Dominic Vega are the perfect couple: high school sweethearts, best friends, madly in love. Well, they used to be anyway. Now Rosie’s lucky to get a caveman grunt from the ex-soldier every time she walks in the door. Dom is faithful and a great provider, but the man she fell in love with ten years ago is nowhere to be found. When her girlfriends encourage Rosie to demand more out of life and pursue her dream of opening a restaurant, she decides to demand more out of love, too. Three words: marriage boot camp.

Never in a million years did Rosie believe her stoic, too-manly-to-emote husband would actually agree to relationship rehab with a weed-smoking hippie. Dom talking about feelings? Sitting on pillows? Communing with nature? Learning love languages? Nope. But to her surprise, he’s all in, and it forces her to admit her own role in their cracked foundation. As they complete one ridiculous—yet surprisingly helpful—assignment after another, their remodeled relationship gets stronger than ever. Except just as they’re getting back on track, Rosie discovers Dom has a secret... and it could demolish everything.

— Listen, one of my absolutely favorite tropes that I do not think gets enough love in the world is COMMITTED LONG-LASTING RELATIONSHIPS. And, like, ok, sure the premise of this was that they were separating in that long-lasting relationship. But no one really believed that, did they? Rosie and Dominic were real cute and their banter was good and I wasn’t totally skeeved out when they literally fucked on the kitchen floor. So, I think that’s saying something. Also, also! I seriously appreciated the realism of this book because no one on Long Island would ever call Manhattan Manhattan. It’s the city. Every other borough gets a name, but Manhattan is just the city and I nearly cheered when they said that. But also, no one’s taking a cab from Port Jeff to the Meatpacking District. You know what that would cost? God.

Tools of Engagement by Tessa Bailey

Hair, makeup, clothing, decor... everything in Bethany Castle's world is organized, planned, and styled to perfection. Which is why the homes she designs for her family's real estate business are the most coveted in town. The only thing not perfect? Her track record with men. She's on a dating hiatus and after helping her friends achieve their dreams, Bethany finally has time to focus on her own: flip a house, from framework to furnishings, all by herself. Except her older brother runs the company and refuses to take her seriously.

When a television producer gets wind of the Castle sibling rivalry, they’re invited on Flip Off, a competition to see who can do the best renovation. Bethany wants bragging rights, but she needs a crew and the only member of her brother's construction team willing to jump ship is Wes Daniels, the new guy in town. His Texas drawl and handsome face got under Bethany's skin on day one, and the last thing she needs is some cocky young cowboy in her way.

As the race to renovate heats up, Wes and Bethany are forced into close quarters, trading barbs and biting banter as they remodel the ugliest house on the block. It's a labor of love, hate, and everything in between, and soon sparks are flying. But Bethany's perfectly structured life is one kiss away from going up in smoke and she knows falling for a guy like Wes would be a flipping disaster.

— It should first be noted that in the three books of this series, I could not and cannot understand why Bethany’s brother was such a monumental dick. He was just...he was a dick. His marriage was awful. How long was his wife pregnant without him knowing???? I digress. This continued to be cute, Bethany was a legit heroine as far as those rom-com things go, Wes was very Texas and that got a little over the top, but they had sex in a bed like normal people so that helped. Oh, except that one time on the construction site. Whatever, this book was cute. This whole series was cute, really, and I was a big fan of the happy little wrap-everything-up with a bow ending.

Romance That Happens In Point Two Seconds Is...Unbelievable

Too Hot to Handle by Tessa Bailey

The road trip was definitely a bad idea. Having already flambéed her culinary career beyond recognition, Rita Clarkson is now stranded in God-Knows-Where, New Mexico, with a busted-ass car and her three temperamental siblings, who she hasn't seen in years. When rescue shows up---six-feet-plus of hot, charming sex on a motorcycle---Rita's pretty certain she's gone from the frying pan right into the fire . . . Jasper Ellis has a bad boy reputation in this town, and he loathes it. The moment he sees Rita, though, Jasper knows he's about to be sorely tempted. There's something real between them. Something raw. And Jasper has only a few days to show Rita that he isn't just for tonight---he's forever.

— For as much as I loved the Port Jeff series by my new pal Tessa, this one was...oof. Too much, guys. Too much. Fucking in trucks. Fucking in back offices. The whole book lasted, like, three days. And keep in mind this is coming from someone who has written like two million words about Killian Jones, self-loathing champ 250 years running, but Jasper’s self-loathing was a little over the top. Like, let’s not objectify dudes, but also...I don’t know guys. Maybe the other books in the series are better? I was mostly just annoyed by Rita.

What the Hell Happened at the End of This Book?? Seriously, I Have No Idea

The Queen’s Assassin by Melissa de la Cruz

Caledon Holt is the kingdom's deadliest weapon. No one alive can best him in speed, strength, or brains, which is why he's the Hearthstone Guild's most dangerous member. Cal is also the Queen's Assassin, bound to her by magic and unable to leave her service until the task she's set for him is fulfilled. Shadow of the Honey Glade has been training all her life to join the Guild, hoping that one day she'll become an assassin as feared and revered as Cal. But Shadow's mother and aunts expect her to serve the crown as a lady of the Renovian Court. When a surprise attack brings Shadow and Cal together, they're forced to team up as assassin and apprentice. Even though Shadow's life belongs to the court and Cal's belongs to the queen, they cannot deny their attraction to each other. But now, with war on the horizon and true love at risk, Shadow and Cal will uncover a shocking web of lies that will change their paths forever.

—WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED AT THE END OF THIS BOOK??? I figured out the so-called twist like...two chapters in. Fine, ok, whatever. It’s YA, this is not rocket science and I was interested enough in Cale and Shadow to see how it all played out. Only it didn’t really play out! Because the whole end was just this like four chapter retcon of basically EVERYTHING ELSE THAT HAPPENED and I genuinely could not believe it was happening. It didn’t make sense?!? Like with the plot? Also, spoiler, good thing Shadow and the other king haven’t consummated their marriage yet since she and Cale totally fucked after her wedding? What is YA? Why is Amazon telling me this is a Teacher’s Pick? Why hasn’t my hold come through on the sequel yet so I know what happens next?

Low-Stakes Romance Was Real Boring and All The People Were Boring In It

The Ten Rules for Faking It by Sophie Sullivan

As birthdays go, this year’s for radio producer Everly Dean hit rock-bottom. Worse than the “tonsillectomy birthday.” Worse than the birthday her parents decided to split (the first time). But catching your boyfriend cheating on you with his assistant? Even clichés sting. But this is Everly’s year! She won’t let her anxiety hold her back. She’ll pitch her podcast idea to her boss. There’s just one problem. Her boss, Chris, is very cute. (Of course). Also, he's extremely distant (which means he hates her, right? Or is that the anxiety talking)? And, Stacey the DJ didn’t mute the mic during Everly’s rant about Simon the Snake (syn: Cheating Ex). That’s three problems. Suddenly, people are lining up to date her, Bachelorette-style, fans are voting (Reminder: never leave house again), and her interest in Chris might be a two-way street. It’s a lot for a woman who could gold medal in people-avoidance. She’s going to have to fake it ‘till she makes it to get through all of this. Perhaps she’ll make a list: The Ten Rules for Faking It. 

— I am a broken record. Shouting. From the highest hilltop. Just because you think someone is cute when you’re technically not supposed to be dating them does not mean you get to be anything less than nice around them! It’s not cute! And part two, which often goes with part one: rom com dudes have GOT to stop lying or hiding or otherwise avoiding telling people who they really are. It’s a convoluted, passably lazy way of writing and dropping a third-act bomb on the story. Don’t do it. Stop doing it. We’ve moved past the need for hidden identities. Unless he’s, like, a spy or something. Um...this was a weird book. I know Everly had anxiety and that became a PLOT POINT, patent pending, but she was also not super relatable? Which is crazy considering my very real, rather undiagnosed anxiety. Chris was boring. The whole plot, as this title suggests, was very low stakes and no one actually  seemed to remember that their jobs were ever on the line? Did Everly and Chris have a conversation before they decided they liked each other? Who can say, really.

Shipped by Angie Hockman

Between taking night classes for her MBA and her demanding day job at a cruise line, marketing manager Henley Evans barely has time for herself, let alone family, friends, or dating. But when she’s shortlisted for the promotion of her dreams, all her sacrifices finally seem worth it. The only problem? Graeme Crawford-Collins, the remote social media manager and the bane of her existence, is also up for the position. Although they’ve never met in person, their epic email battles are the stuff of office legend. Their boss tasks each of them with drafting a proposal on how to boost bookings in the Galápagos—best proposal wins the promotion. There’s just one catch: they have to go on a company cruise to the Galápagos Islands...together. But when the two meet on the ship, Henley is shocked to discover that the real Graeme is nothing like she imagined. As they explore the Islands together, she soon finds the line between loathing and liking thinner than a postcard. With her career dreams in her sights and a growing attraction to the competition, Henley begins questioning her life choices. Because what’s the point of working all the time if you never actually live?

— YOU NEED TO HAVE A CONVERSATION WITH SOMEONE TO DECIDE YOU LIKE THEM. AUTHORS REALLY REALLY NEED TO LEARN HOW TO BUILD ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS. IF THEY ONLY LIKE EACH OTHER BECAUSE THEY KISS WELL IT’S NOT A GOOD RELATIONSHIP. AND THIS IS COMING FROM ME. Back at it again with the annoying so-called heroine who was just...occasionally real mean to Graem for no reason at all? Also her name was Henley. Which is not a great reason to dislike her, but here we are.

Apparently I Read These Books Out Of Order. Who Knew?

Pride, Prejudice and Other Flavors by Sonali Dev

It is a truth universally acknowledged that only in an overachieving Indian American family can a genius daughter be considered a black sheep.

Dr. Trisha Raje is San Francisco’s most acclaimed neurosurgeon. But that’s not enough for the Rajes, her influential immigrant family who’s achieved power by making its own non-negotiable rules:

·       Never trust an outsider

·       Never do anything to jeopardize your brother’s political aspirations

·       And never, ever, defy your family

Trisha is guilty of breaking all three rules. But now she has a chance to redeem herself. So long as she doesn’t repeat old mistakes.

Up-and-coming chef DJ Caine has known people like Trisha before, people who judge him by his rough beginnings and place pedigree above character. He needs the lucrative job the Rajes offer, but he values his pride too much to indulge Trisha’s arrogance. And then he discovers that she’s the only surgeon who can save his sister’s life.

As the two clash, their assumptions crumble like the spun sugar on one of DJ’s stunning desserts. But before a future can be savored there’s a past to be reckoned with...

A family trying to build home in a new land.

A man who has never felt at home anywhere.

And a choice to be made between the two.

— Surprise, apparently this was the first book in the series. I did not know. It didn’t affect my enjoyment of the Persuasion version in this same ‘verse, which is also strange because I liked the Persuasion one way better. There was a lot of medical in this. And not super uplifting medical, either. This was like...oh the Jane character (I guess???) has cancer and either she’s going to go blind after having a surgery (also she was an artist, so you see how this was a problem) or she’s just going to decide to die. Wait, what? That came out of left field, really. Also DJ and Trisha were not nice to each other. Like, I know this is Pride and Prejudice so there has to be some of that at the start, but it wasn’t like Trisha ever really went through the Darcy-required time at Pemberly. She just decided she liked DJ and told him and it was as awkward as Jane Austen intended it, but then we got more medical and everything was cool. It felt very rushed and shoehorned into a modern setting and the Persuasion one was better. You can’t have Darcy’s growth without the Pemberly stuff. You just can’t.

In Which I Didn’t Like a Nickname??? Is the World Ending??

Crazy Stupid Bromance by Lyssa Kay Adams

Alexis Carlisle and her cat café, ToeBeans, have shot to fame after she came forward as a victim of a celebrity chef’s sexual harassment. When a new customer approaches to confide in her, the last thing Alexis expects is for the woman to claim they’re sisters. Unsure what to do, Alexis turns to the only man she trusts—her best friend, Noah Logan.   Computer genius Noah left his rebellious teenage hacker past behind to become a computer security expert. Now he only uses his old skills for the right cause. But Noah’s got a secret: He’s madly in love with Alexis. When she asks for his help, he wonders if the timing will ever be right to confess his crush.   Noah’s pals in The Bromance Book Club are more than willing to share their beloved “manuals” to help him go from bud to boyfriend. But he must decide if telling the truth is worth risking the best friendship he’s ever had.

— If Noah was going to call her Lexa, then her name should have been Alexa and not Alexis. That’s it and that’s all. Also, the story was n u t s. Estranged dads and kidney failure and they got together so fast in this book. Which usually is cool by me, but I really could not get over the nickname and the estranged family was mean to Alexis. Lexa. HER NAME SHOULD HAVE BEEN ALEXA, IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE. Also Noah was a former hacker? The estranged family accused him corporate espionage or something? A lot happened in this book, guys. Her name should have been Alexa.

Dumb Brother Was Dumb™ Everyone Else Was Real Cute

The Off Limits Rule by Sarah Adams

I have found rock bottom. It's here, moving in with my older brother because I'm too broke to afford to live on my own. It's okay though, because we've always been close and I think I'm going to have fun living with him again.

 That is until I meet Cooper...

 Turns out, my brother has very strong opinions on the idea of me dating his best friend and is dead set against it. According to him, Cooper is everything I should stay away from: flirtatious, adventurous, non-committal, and freaking hot. (I added that last part because I feel like you need the whole picture.) My brother is right--I should stay away from Cooper James and his pretty blue eyes. He's the opposite of what I need right now.

 Nah--who am I kidding? I'm going for it.

— This was cute, mostly mindless fluff. Hit some trope high points, including, obviously, best friends sister. Only the brother in question was a Neanderthal and I really thought people were going to make out more while said brother was on his business trip. I got it for free off Amazon. Which I think should explain a lot. Like, story-wise. Sorry, free Amazon books. Don’t be insulted.

Prose, Prose, Prose, Please Someone Have a Conversation

Trick by Natalia Jaster

In the Kingdom of Spring, Poet is renowned. He's young and pretty, a lover of men and women. He performs for the court, kisses like a scoundrel, and mocks with a silver tongue. Yet allow him this: It's only the most cunning and manipulative soul who can play the fool. For beyond the castle walls, Poet guards a secret. One the Crown would shackle him for. One that he'll risk everything to protect. Alas, it will take more than clever words to deceive Princess Briar. Convinced that he's juggling lies as well as verse, this righteous nuisance of a girl is determined to expose him. But not all falsehoods are fiendish. Poet's secret is delicate, binding the jester and princess in an unlikely alliance—and kindling a breathless attraction, as alluring as it is forbidden.

— The purplest of prose. Mauve prose. Royal purple prose. Lavender prose. There was so much writing here. So much. Too much, some might say. I say. Actually. If we want to get specific. And that was a shame, really, because when Briar and Poet actually had a conversation, they were interesting to read about. Also, the world building here? Yeeeesh. The so-called, wait for it, FOOL TRADE played a prominent role and that was...super cringe. Super Cringe. That being said, I asked Justin what I should read next and he thought it was funny that a book was just called...

Dare by Natalia Jaster

In the Kingdom of Summer, they say she's wild. Locked in a cage by the sea, Flare dreams of escape. She dreams of a lost world, known only in legends. The island is calling to her. And she won't let anyone keep her from it. Especially not him. They say he's cruel. Jeryn has crossed the ocean for the Trade, to bargain for those fierce, imprisoned creatures that make his skin crawl. By law, they're subjects meant for experimentation. And easy to despise. One girl in particular. But on the cusp of transport, the tide rages. That hidden island awaits. Stranded, the prince and prisoner must fight to survive. In a mysterious rainforest, they must band together...if they don't slay one another first. Or become something more to each other.  Something just as dangerous.

— This was Justin’s fault. He could not believe this book was just called Dare. It should have been called “We’re going to weirdly force what is basically slavery into this story and then a prince is going to fall in love with an escaped slave and we’re also going to call that ROMANCE.” y i k e s. Remember that one story that took place over three days? This was the complete opposite. Years! They were shipwrecked for years! They got saved, spoilers, the DAY they started having sex. What are the odds, right?? And then MORE YEARS passed. Multiple years! Five years! They couldn’t actually be together because of that aforementioned slave trade. What the shit, man? Natalia, ya gotta be kidding me with this. The internet claimed Trick was good and a solid follow to reading ACOTAR and that there was this whole verse and it was also good. The internet was wrong.

Nothing Happened, Everything Happened, I...Hated It

Graceling by Kristin Cashore

Kristin Cashore’s bestselling, award-winning fantasy Graceling tells the story of the vulnerable-yet-strong Katsa, a smart, beautiful teenager who lives in a world where selected people are given a Grace, a special talent that can be anything from dancing to swimming. Katsa’s is killing. As the king’s niece, she is forced to use her extreme skills as his thug. Along the way, Katsa must learn to decipher the true nature of her Grace… and how to put it to good use. A thrilling, action-packed fantasy adventure (and steamy romance!) that will resonate deeply with adolescents trying to find their way in the world.

— I can’t believe this was a book. Katsa was so annoying! Like, listen, I know her life was sad. And she was a pawn being used against her will. Blah, blah, blah. Whatever. The tone of the whole book was so strangely formal and Poe was strangely in love with Katsa? Who obviously didn’t want to get married because she was WOMAN HEAR ME ROAR. Or kill people, as the case may be. Only she wanted to make out with Poe? Only ONLY they didn’t even really get together at the end? I could not believe the end of this book. I nearly threw my Kindle across the room. Once again, no apologies for spoilers because do not read this book, but HE WAS BLIND? Katsa had to leave him behind to save his cousin and he just ENDED UP BEING BLIND? AND THEY NEVER GOT TOGETHER REALLY?? What the fuck? Seriously. Steamy romance, my ass. Nothing happened. The villain got defeated in point two seconds. There are other books in this universe? No, thanks.

[honeyctzen]

scarred leash (prologue) - m.l

IMPORTANT: This is the prologue for my newest fanfiction and is an introductory to the main character and the themes of this story. It involves sex, bdsm, self harm and themes relating to that matter. It will also not just be sex, but have an actual story and characters falling in love. If any of this is not for you, my other works are much lighter and less “plotty”. I really hope this excites you for the rest of the story, I am very much proud of it. Thank you! - Maisie ♡

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I was sixteen when I chose to leave home without even whispering a word to anyone. Sixteen when I decided I had to go out alone into the world, to make my own way with the little experience I had gathered so far. It took a long time to map out my plan, endless days that turned into sleepless nights. I spent most of my last teenage years memorising a singular night, a night that would lead me into the next stage of my life.

My dusty countryside town was a few hours from the monumental London. I thought about the city all hours of the day, the faraway land that was London. The idea of even stepping foot in it was weird and foreign and still, it was the only place I ever wanted to go. I’d lived in one place for my entire life and rarely ever left the town, in fact I’d only left it a few times. All because of hospital trips. The idea of living away from that place was terrifying and yet, completely exhilarating. Given that back then, I’d been pretty naive to how the world works as I’d never been told of it. I wanted a nice house, nice job, maybe I would meet a nice person and we would have a nice relationship. I had come to learn as my research into London and life in general continued that it wouldn’t be that simple. Everything was complicated. If you wanted a place to live, there was several thousand procedures you had to endure. If you wanted a job, you had to have a thousand different qualifications. I thought after realising all this that my hopes of leaving were over, that was when I had begun thoroughly planning.

Through school and college I was able to obtain the qualifications I needed to move away and work in business. I knew I would have to work for a few years before I gained any sort of fulfilling job, but I had endured years of education, I understood patience. Through research I had found a small flat that I would be able to pay for with money I’d saved over the years and earnings from a job I would later procure. Life would still be difficult, I knew this. I was a young, inexperienced girl moving out to a tumultuous city, it would be dangerous. Though I had concluded long ago that dying in this new fantastical place was far better than peddling on back home, where I would die unknown, just another body in the wet dirt underneath the town church.

I knew by leaving that I was inflicting an unimaginable amount of pain upon my mother, who was as neurotic as she was suffocating. Though I understood she didn’t mean to be, I couldn’t bring myself to feel sympathy for her. My father ran, as did my older brother, leaving me and my ailing grandmother the only people she had left. I wasn’t old enough to understand why my father had just abandoned us but once I grew enough to comprehend love, pain, divorce, I got it. This town was the entire world for my mother but as I got older, she realised it wouldn’t be for me. Instead it would be a restraint.

The first time I recall my mother knowing I would be difficult is when I was eleven. I developed much quicker than most children my own age, breasts already sprouting on my chest, hair spreading over my body. There was a huge wave of name calling, little jabs at my appearance, and while I tried to ignore it, eventually it burrowed beneath my skin. That was the same year I cut myself for the first time. My fingers coiled around a pair of scissors, pressing the metal over the flesh of my arm until a litter of red scratches appeared over the pale skin. Back then, it was just a punishment, a way of controlling myself from completely losing my mind. I stopped it for a while. In natures due course, the other girls grew into their bodies and I was planted back into an unremarkable place among my peers. There was no bullying and so, I forgot about cutting myself for a couple years.

While I had physically matured much quicker than others my age, mentally, it seemed I had been halted somewhere. There appeared no reason for it but the things that my schoolmates were interested in disgusted me. When a friend first showed me porn, I remember feeling vomit rise up in my throat. A woman, bundled up with rope, a muscled, balding man arched over her. The blood curling shrieks that filled the room felt torturous. I couldn’t understand how people liked this, how they liked it enough to pleasure themselves to it. I suppose that was when my fascination with sex begun. Initially, it was hatred, a complete abhorrence for the thing, a vexation that appeared randomly and intensely. If a classmate would mention it, or describe any sort of sexual act, I felt ill. My stomach twisting uncomfortably as the boys all called out derogatory names for the women they had seen in the films and then once again, I grew to hate my body.

I was fifteen the next time I cut myself. It was much more deliberate, much more intense. I had swapped out the dull scissors, for a pocket knife a friend had gifted me. It was able to bury itself much deeper than before and immediately, with the first slice, a tsunami of relief rolled over me. Though, it was a different kind of relief than it had been those years before. I found myself thinking back to the woman I had seen in the porn, the intricate ropes that clasped themselves over her limbs, the pained screams that passed her lips. The man leaning over her figure, how his fingers gripped the flesh of her waist, how he bevelled his teeth down onto her neck until it bled. I found myself recalling each detail of the images I had seen so long ago, and I found myself cutting down into the flesh as the memories scurried across my brain.

I felt guilty afterward, an awful guilt that followed me around for weeks. But then, a boy would mention shapes they had seen in porn and suddenly, I would feel the urge to damage myself again. It spiralled quickly. So quickly that I, myself, was shocked. Instead of recalling images I had seen, I created my own imaginations. Blurred, colourless visions of violence, and sex dulling into one, all as I pulled a knife against my own skin. It continued for months, months of fantasies and cutting and by the time my sixteenth birthday hurdled toward me, I had a plethora of thick scars covering my arms and legs. Though that didn’t faze me when finally, three years after all my friends, my mother bought me a cell phone.  

She would scour over the phone from time to time, checking my messages, calls, emails, and all other forms of communication. Yet, of all the applications on the phone, my mother was the most ignorant to the internet. She didn’t understand the concept of it, let alone know it was built into the mobile and so, I was able to roam free for the first time. And I roamed. My inexperience meant I didn’t know what sites to go to, nor did I know which keywords to search. The titles of the videos that came up almost seemed to be in a foreign language but after a couple of trips to the websites, I gathered the premise of each category. After locking myself in the bathroom, I would go to the sites and type in words such as bondage, submissive, sadism, pain and the things I liked would appear. Though I now understood how people looked at porn, I still didn’t understand why they touched themselves to it. Merely pushing a blade into my leg as I watched seemed to be enough. I wasn’t sure if it was sexual for me, or if it was a punishment thing as it had been when I was younger.

My understanding of my own sexuality went little further than this and my adventures on the websites dwindled until they stopped. It had grown to stop making me feel any better, and so I began inflicting more serious physical harm upon myself. The hospital visits followed soon after, as did my mother’s rantings about how unhealthy that stuff all was for me. For once, she paid attention to me. It almost felt nice, deserved. But I couldn’t hold it for long, as quite abruptly, my grandmothers health began to decline. She died a while after growing sick, and the absence of her in the house made my mother somehow more insufferable. And though we lived in the same house, it was almost as if we were separated by an unseen barrier.

I didn’t completely mind, it gave me enough solitude to go about my planning. Endless research into where I could live in London, what jobs I could obtain with the qualifications I would acquire after leaving sixth form. It took a while to find what would suit me right but after I finally latched onto it, my future suddenly felt full, meaningful almost. I now had something to look forward to, something to work toward. So, I studied harder, concentrated on the daydreams of my new life away from the idle cottage town. My grandmother had left some money to both me and my mother, more to me. I insisted I was able to tend to my own finances and after long bouts of pleading, my mother agreed. I had money, two months left at sixth form and then I could leave.

Time blurs together, memories jumbling, I can barely remember the last few months back home. But what I do recall vividly, is the night I left. I had booked train tickets the week prior and planned to stay in a hotel while I found somewhere to live. I needed to be close to the central city, I knew that much, though, not much else. I’d found a job interview for admin staff at a stockbroking company. My business a level came in handy, and my odd passion for calculations and numbers did too. If I could just get this job, if I could get that flat, I could make it.

I chose to leave during the night, climbing from my bedroom window, scuttling across the streets like a fragile hedgehog. I’d never even snuck from my house once before and the first time I was, I was doing so knowing that I would never come back. With every step I took I thought I would be caught and hauled back home by my hair. Each step further from the slanted bungalow made my heart beat a little faster until, gradually my pulse slowed, and the gentle pitter of my feet grew to calm myself. Though I didn’t feel completely secure until I passed the welcome sign to the town. But once I did, I felt a weight pulled from my stomach. A sudden notion that I had done it, I had gotten away like my father and brother did years ago, like my grandmother had in death. I was now free to do everything I had lost the chance to do through my mother’s coddling. I could drink, do drugs, have sex with an endless stream of people, work. I found myself grinning as I wandered further from town, the dishevelled map directing me toward the train station. The smile pulling at my lips until I worried they would rip. And it only widened when I spotted the station, when I saw my train, when I boarded, when the train began to drift from the docile place I had called home.

I knew that now, I was reborn, I was my own person. It had taken three years to map everything, to prepare myself for life away from the secure blanket I had been smothered with all my life. But now, it had all come to fruit. I dreamt of London on the train, my head pressed against the window, my scarred legs trembling with the thought of all the things that I could do. My chest thick, and heavy with excitement.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

London was everything I had imagined and so much more. It was larger than anything I had ever seen back home, with each building bigger than the next and thousands of vehicles filling the roads. As the train eventually rolled into the city, my eyes clasped over each detail that began to emerge. The differences of the people that wandered the streets, the warmth in the chatter that clambered through the train windows. Everything was so different, so good. I found myself smiling away as I watched from my place in the tube container, my toothy grin shining back at me in the reflection. I was finally there, finally apart of everything I had read about.

Walking the streets was even better, even more real. My feet paced the same tempo as everyone else, my body dipping between the mounds of crowd as I ambled through the roads, glancing down at the map I had printed back in my murky home. The directions were confusing, each street twisting awkwardly to the next and what should have been a five-minute walk turned into two hours of working out where I was. Though eventually, after consulting several locals, I found my way to the flat I had seen in the ad weeks ago. It was in what my mother would have called a ‘ghetto area’ but it was still much larger and greater than the street I had lived on all my life. It looked a normal house though split into three different flats, with a garden leading up to the two doors and ivy climbing up the sides of the home. I’d felt nervous to knock, I wasn’t particularly sure why. Perhaps because the person to answer could have been my future roommate but now, thinking back, I shouldn’t have been.

The person that had answered was taller than me, her gangling arms hanging low, one raised to her mouth as she nursed a cigarette. She was beautiful in an odd way, striking, her nose large and hooked, hair shorted and burnt from styling. She smiled widely when she spotted my obviously anxious face, her voice pouring out in its deepness.

‘The tenant?’ She mumbled through puffs of the intensely clouded cigarette.

‘Um, yeah.’

‘Cool, cool, yeah, sorry, come in.’ Her accent was prominent, thick and harsh but calming all at once. I smiled as I stepped into the flat, the stairs immediate at the entry. I stood beside my single suitcase, my backpack still on my shoulders, her gaze dancing across them before she turned away. She climbed them ahead of me, her feet clattering against the wooden steps and I trailed behind, eyes clinging to each detail of the walls. I wanted to take in as much as I possibly could, I wanted this to be my home, my sanctuary.

Once we stood in the depth of the flat, the girl began to speak again, pulling the cigarette from her mouth for a moment. Throwing her body onto the dusty sofa and awaiting me to sit beside her. I allowed the bag to drop to the floor, my feet pushing it further from me. My lanky limbs folded in on themselves as I perched on the seat, features impossibly too bright for the dullness of the flat.

‘You’re eighteen?’

‘Nineteen.’ I corrected abruptly.

‘Okay, you just have to be eighteen to rent, but that’s fine then,’ she said, inhaling from the stick before releasing the dense cloud into the room, ‘so, um, this is it.’

‘Um, what’s your name?’ I ask quietly.

‘Oh, shit, sorry, I’m Rose, and you?’

‘Ellie.’ I mumbled.

‘Are you the owner?’

She snickered, ‘Uh, no, my uncle is so I get a discount, barely, but, it helps. Um, he doesn’t really care who moves in but I, I do, I live here, so.’

‘Yeah,’

‘You’re not from here?’ She asked, finally pushing the cigarette into the ash tray that sat near her. The smell still strong but dissipating enough for me to open my mouth to speak.

‘No, I um, actually moved here today.’

‘Shit.’

‘Yeah, um, so, I’m new to this.’

‘Where you from?’

‘A little town just outside Sheffield, I, um, hated it, figured it was time to get away.’ I explained as briefly as I could, my fingers instinctively pulling on my sleeves whilst I spoke of home.

‘For a bit or are you staying here long term?’ She questioned, eyes flitting once more over the lack of things I had brought with me. It hadn’t been that I had forgot much, I hadn’t owned many things back home, not things that warranted bringing anyway.

‘Long term.’ I answered immediately.

‘And you’re gonna work here?’

‘Hopefully,’ I chuckled, ‘I have a job interview tomorrow, so, I um, I’d find work anyway, so I could pay, but,’

‘Cool, so, you want to move in then?’ She proposed, her voice soft, speaking the question as though it held no merit. My stomach churned, lips parting in another goofy smile, head nodding vigorously.

[watchtheblog]

petty cache

thank you for coming to read my diary which masquerades as a blog but is actually just a vessel for disseminating my birthday wishlists. it’s like an event you show up to where the host tries to sell you a timeshare 25 minutes after some requisite, mindless song and dance.

welcome! if you’d like purchase a timeshare, scroll to the bottom. for the song and dance, look no further:

the other day i zoned out on zoom therapy and when my therapist asked where i “went” i had to lie because i had gone to the part of my brain that holds all the things i need to think about forever for no reason (i call it the petty cache — this is an umbrella term for the space that also houses my attitude cabinet) and dusted off a memory of a comment i saw on a stranger’s facebook three weeks ago that said “message me. i lost my password and i have good news to share”.

i don’t know either person, and that’s what i was thinking about. i spend $[redacted] a month on therapy and instead of focusing on one of my numerous unsolved mysteries, i was thinking about the nuances of this comment - like why they wouldn’t just share the news or message the person directly? or what losing their password had to do with anything? or why they would comment on facebook instead of texting or calling the person. did they not have their number? imagine not knowing someone well enough to have their phone number, but still wanting to share your good news with them!

all i want (for my birthday) is to know what the news is that this stranger has to share, and i’ll never know so i have to put that comment in my minutiae repository with all the other things that will plague me until i die from texting and driving, smoke inhalation as a result of purposely leaving a candle lit in my home overnight almost every night, consuming half a dozen hot dogs a week, or a now unnamed disease that will posthumously be attributed to my chronic inability to mind my own business.

i’m constantly concerning myself with things that are none of my concern - no matter how insignificant - because my brain is a commune of sentient pepperoni running instagram polls among themselves to discern if something is worth spending an inordinate amount of time thinking about. and guess what? it turns out absolutely everything that has ever offended, confused, bothered, intrigued, slightly inconvenienced, or merely happened to me is worth spending an inordinate amount of time thinking about.

because i devote so much energy to nonsense, i can often be found persecuting strangers for insulting me on the internet (and for other miscellaneous bad behavior). the information superhighway is my home so i have to protect myself (and my friends) here, and if that means spending 45 minutes to 48 hours trying to find every misstep you’ve made in your life until i have enough ammunition to spray a dozen simulated retaliatory bullets at your virtual head because you called me a “stupid bitch” on instagram, well… so be it!

i am relentless in my pursuit of wasting time, so if that doesn’t work, i will find the cold stone creamery you frequent, seek employment there, be hired on the spot, learn the craft, be promoted to manager, poison you on your birthday, gain access to your funeral, and tarnish your reputation by reading your shitty DM in front of the few family and friends whom i haven’t already made aware of the abhorrent way you conducted yourself online!

there are so many different ways strangers will try to hurt your feelings — an interesting genre of which come from men who (like me) have definitely never had sex before, and mistakenly think i care about the ways in which my body does not make them horny.

“no tits” one will say. and i’m like, how do you want me to respond to that? my boobs are indeed small, yes. did you come here to shoot facts back and forth all day? ok: you’re going to start balding way sooner than you’re prepared for, i bet your childhood dog is dead, your time on the internet should be supervised, your closet is full of vests, and you wait on line at nightclubs… good day?!

while i will obviously engage with anyone if they want to fight, i prefer when the unsolicited criticism is personalized, and not just thoughtless, lazily devised tripe.

a year and a half ago, a man who looked like he exhales smog DMed me to let me know - among other things in a paragraph long rant - he’d “lost brain cells” watching my story. knowing he had likely never had an adequate amount to begin with, it seemed like an emergency, so i started a group DM with his wife. because his message had come just three days after a “fuckkk [heart eye emoji]” response to a photo of my ass, i included a screenshot as evidence of his devolving mental state.

being - presumably - gainfully employed, neither of them responded.

luckily, the consolation prize for insulting me is that you gain residency in my brain and stay in my thoughts and prayers for all eternity, so i checked in on them a few days ago. they’d unfollowed and wiped their feeds clean of each other!!

because i’ve never “moved on” in my entire life, i fired up our long dormant group chat, and sent my condolences: “aw. sorry your trip to positano - where you were going to attempt to repair your ramshackle marriage - got cancelled because of covid and so you just got divorced instead :(” i wrote before being blocked by both of them. 

then i headed right over to my therapist’s facebook and commented “message me. i lost my password and i have good news to share”

i spent an entire therapy session detailing this monomania before my therapist thoughtfully suggested i “pick [my] battles”.

to which i thoughtfully responded: yeah, babe. i pick every single one.

                                                        ***

timeshare time! it’s the same list as this post, with a few additions (at top) (and edits based on availability).

places to donate food education fund pretty brown girl the okra project

some furniture stuff a side table  a pointless, laughably tiny little thing this website is calling a “drink table” a lamp one of these benches i do not want this but it’s important to me that at least 2 other people know it exists

this plant that obviously does not need to cost $165 but idk how to shop economically

air pods

gifts from the previous post - all still v much in play!

a pair of shoes (size 8 or 38) one pair, another pair, yet another, these are on sale, these are not, and a final pair

a specific clutch with three color choices they allege this color is called sand but it looks white to me, pink, green for those who do not know what malachite means (it couldn’t be me. i learned it 3 hours ago when i began compiling this cursed list)

something everyone with money to waste needs this

dresses i’ll never be able to wear until there’s a vaccine because unlike someone tacky who knows me, i won’t be having a birthday party in the middle of a global pandemic (hi, you fool) white polka dot, not white polka dot, also not polka dot, a red dress, a skirt (aka half a dress), a black dress

this sweatsuit xs in this, small in this

is sephora cancelled? i want this hair dryer which i’m sure you can buy elsewhere if sephora is cancelled, which it v well may be

this item which you may think is cheap but actually it’s not soooo a hairpin

earrings one pair, another pair, and another

this dress which i’ll never wear anywhere even when there is a vaccine because… what?! but maybe. you never know. size 34. lol when i get this far into the list i’m always blown away by how insane it is that i do this every year to no audience. so i’m just laughing alone at that. :) i am v funny to myself. another dress i’ll never wear ;)

the nicest weighted blanket you know of i’m depressed!!!!! if you can’t tell!!!!!!!

every year i have asked for a weekend bag and every year i have not received one, so alas, we try again this is not a weekend bag actually but it will do. this is!

a peloton but just venmo me the cash (@merce212) because i have a hookup

an assortment of ridiculous things a $500 body scarf a $580 beach towel with an octopus on it for no reason besides “art” i cannot tell analog time but it’s never too late to start!! how mad would you be if someone bought you a roulette table for your wrist? be honest. (THIS WATCH IS FOUR YEARS RENT!!!!!!) they won’t say how much this costs :( i’m losing my mind and must be gifted a chanel watch or else i will perish. to put my salami on when i am eating salami in my bed “24k gold crocodile [?!!) teddy bear”. the website says there’s only one left, which begs the question “why did someone buy one of these rather than buying me a chanel watch?!!” *real ‘billionaires shouldn’t exist [unless they’re buying me a watch]’ energy* to put my new watch in this is ugly but it’s on sale :) idk wtf “secret box pendant” means but i wish this necklace was also a USB with every season and spinoff of 90 day fiancé on it hi yes i’m stupid but i draw the line at $1500 connect four…

[asexual-hugger]

3 YEARS AGO

Early the next morning after her phone conversation with Detective Ernest Sinclaire, Allison McQueen hops on her bicycle and heads for Ledford Park Detective Agency.

What she finds is completely unexpected. It’s not a small office building at all.

“Holy crap. It’s a bloody mansion!” She can’t hold in her surprise.

She begins to walk her bike up to the front porch to knock at the door.

“Hey, do you live here?” A woman’s voice stops her.

“Sorry?” Allison turns to look for the source and finds a middle-aged woman standing in the street with her hands on her waist, staring at her suspiciously.

“I asked you if you live here,” the woman repeated. “I’ve never seen you here before, and I know everyone that lives around here.”

“I’m sorry—everyone?” Allison finds that hard to believe.

“Yes, everyone,” the woman replies coolly. “I’ve never seen you around here. If you don’t live here, I suggest you leave.”

Who was this psycho—the neighborhood watch?

“Actually, I was meeting someone,” Allison starts to say.

“Meeting someone?” The woman scoffs, not believing a word of it. “Who are you meeting? Do you even live here?”

“Miss McQueen!” An all-too-familiar and welcoming voice cuts through the disturbance. Detective Sinclaire has stepped out of his house and is running down the steps to see her.

“Detective!” Allison starts, looking relieved.

Sinclaire lays eyes on the busybody, looking calm and composed. “Allison is meeting with me, Miss Lucy,” he says slowly. “Have you been interrogating my employee?”

Employee? Allison hadn’t even started interviewing yet.

“Employee?” Miss Lucy voices what she’d been thinking. “Seriously, Ernest? Any ‘employee’ of yours has barely lasted two weeks! I was simply asking if this young lady lived here. There’s nothing wrong with that. You do know I know everyone on this street, and I’m only trying to keep the neighborhood safe.”

So she WAS the neighborhood watch.

“SERIOUSLY, Miss Lucy, I think you need to mind your tongue.” Detective Sinclaire keeps his composure, but there is annoyance in his voice. His arm goes around Allison’s shoulders protectively. “What I do at MY estate is not your concern. Miss McQueen is here as my employee, and the sooner you stop harassing her and go about your business, the sooner I can go about mine. Allison is far from a threat here. Toodles!” He gives her a wave and turns to Allison. “Sorry about her. She’s like that with everyone that comes down here. She believes it’s her business to get involved with everyone’s life.”

“Sounds like a Karen,” Allison comments, referring to the latest meme craze on the Internet. “Figured they’d be everywhere.”

Detective Sinclaire nods at her bicycle. “I can store your bicycle in the back,” he offers. “That way it’ll be safe from certain prying eyes.”

He glares towards Miss Lucy, appalled and disgusted that Allison had to deal with so much trouble upon her arrival.

“That would be great,” Allison says. “I wasnt certain on how to proceed.”

Sinclaire takes a key out of his pants pocket and unlocks a large gate leading to the backyard, and any awe Allison might have felt towards the front of the house only increases at the sight of the back.

“What do you think?” He seems to read her thoughts.

“It’s amazing. I was kinda expecting a small office building, and when my GPS directed me down a residential street, I thought I had entered the address wrong. I didn’t know Ledford Park was a freaking MANSION! Do you LIVE at this place?”

Detective Sinclaire laughs. “Yeah, that reaction is to be expected,” he says, amused. “And in answer to your question, I live here, work here, and pretty much do everything here, except when I’m called on a case, of course.” Pause. “So. Would you like the grand tour?”

“Sure, but maybe we should do the interview first,” Allison says. “I know you were probably trying to get that Lucy person off our backs by telling her I worked for you, but maybe I ought to at least prove myself to you before anything else.”

Detective Sinclaire’s blue eyes seem to sparkle. “A perfectly logical answer, Miss McQueen,” he says, “and yes, I did mention that to Lucy to get her away from you, but it wasn’t just a diversion. I meant every word.”

“What?”

“I meant what I told her,” Sinclaire repeats. “I don’t lie, Miss McQueen. As for the interview, I find that walking around helps me clear my head. I can give you the grand tour while we talk.”

He gestures invitingly, and they walk up the backyard steps into the house.

A long hallway stretches before them. Allison looks up. A skylight is carved into the ceiling high above her.

Holy crap, she thinks. If I get this job, I’m going to be working in a MANSION!

“The kitchen is on the right, and the bedrooms are upstairs,” Sinclaire is saying. “You’re free to help yourself to something if you need a break.”

“Detective.”

“Yes?”

“Erm.” Allison pauses. “Shouldn’t you be asking me some questions? Like, for the interview?”

“Would you like me to ask you questions?” Sinclaire looks indifferent. “Because I thought I made myself clear by asking you here and standing up for you with Miss Lucy. Also, you can’t forget our phone conversation we had yesterday. I brought you here so you could get to know Ledford Park and ask ME whatever is on your mind.”

“But...my resume,” Allison starts, shocked. “I brought all the required documents because I thought this was going to be a sit-down job interview. Can you at least look at my resume before you jump in and hire me? How do you know I’m even qualified? What if I end up disappointing you?”

“Miss McQueen, please! Take a breath!” Sinclaire stops her wild ranting. “Just...calm yourself. If you’d like me to look at your resume, I’d be more than happy to, but I don’t think I’m going to need to. As I told you before, Miss McQueen, you’re special. There’s something about you that makes you rise up above all the other assistants I’ve hired. You have something about you that I can’t quite place, but it’s unique. It’s different. You’re different. You’re a hard worker, yes? Reliable? Responsible?”

“I’d like to think so.” This was more like it. “I’m also punctual and always do what is asked of me.”

“Brilliant.” Sinclaire takes out a small notebook and starts furiously scratching in it with a mechanical pencil. “Reliable...responsible...does a thorough job...punctual.” He looks back up at her. “Did I forget anything?”

“How about how I’m studying criminal justice and want to be a CSI?” she offers. “My professors can be references. I always hand in my work on time, and I start my assignments as soon as they’re assigned. I take my time so I can do a good job.”

“Oh, I have your educational background already recorded,” Sinclaire answers. “I also have your professors’ names. You told me all of that when I was driving you home.”

“Wait. You remember everything I told you?” Allison is bewildered. “That was weeks ago! Are you keeping tabs on me now?”

“Perhaps.” Shrug.

“But why?” Allison insists. “I’m probably just like all the other girls you’ve worked with. I’m a nobody. I’m a random criminal justice student at university. There are literally hundreds of us, and you chose me. Why?”

“Why? I’ll tell you why.” Sinclaire stops walking and looks straight into her eyes. She seems to lose herself in the vibrant blue. “Because I’m a detective, Miss McQueen. I read people. I watch people. I have a sense on which ones are special. You are not a nobody. You are somebody who can make something of herself. You know why I rescued you that night from that awful man in the car? It was because I could sense trouble. I could see you struggling through the back window. You needed help, and I was there. It broke my heart, but also sent fire up inside me when I saw what he was doing to you. It tore me to pieces. I was so enraged at how he put his hands on you, how he—he—he HURT you.”

“It felt personal.” Allison speaks softly. “You felt like it was your job to be the gallant hero cop saving a damsel in distress. You didn’t even know me and you took a risk saving me. Dylan could’ve had a knife somewhere.”

“Maybe he had the knife, but I had the pistol.” Sinclaire heaves a deep sigh. “Yes, Miss McQueen, you are right on all accounts. It did feel personal. The sight of him just putting his filthy hands on you...ugh! I don’t even want to think about it any more than I have to! Excuse me. I’ve got to go wash the vomit out of my mouth.”

He heads down the hall, leaving Allison alone. The place is so huge she has no idea where to explore first. If Sinclaire did mean what he said, and he was really going to hire her on the spot, she may as well get used to being here, because she is going to be seeing it very frequently.

[allie1804-fan]

Connecticut (Chapter 14)

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 Grace slept for much of Sunday morning but still woke feeling drained.  She was due to collect Hannah at 3 from Faith but instead called her sister.

 “Hey”

 “Grace, is that you, you sound awful, are you OK?”

 “No, no, I’m …… ill. I think I’ve got food poising or something. Listen can you come and get Hannah’s school things and have her a couple more days?”

“No worries – I’ll see you soon.”

When Faith arrived, she knew straight way that Grace was lying about being ill. Her eyes were still swollen from crying.

 “Wanna talk?”

Grace shook her head ‘no’ miserably then slumped down on the bottom of her stairs and started to cry again.

“He wants to have a baby with me!” she sniffed.

“And this is a bad thing, why?”

Grace rolled her eyes at her sister as if she were simply the dumbest person on the planet.

“So you’ve conveniently forgotten what Jim and I went through to have Hannah then!” she said accusingly.

“No, of course not. But why assume the worst? They never found a reason for the miscarriages did they? And you fell for Hannah naturally in the end right?”

“That’s what he said!”

“Well, it’s true isn’t it?”

“I just don’t know if I can go there again, you know each month waiting to see if it’s worked or not, the crushing disappointment if I’m not pregnant, his disappointment…..” she heaved a shaky breath. “in me”

“Come on Grace, he’s a grown man, he must know there are no guarantees. Even if he married some young bimbo, she might not be able to give him a child. And it takes two to tango honey, it’s not all down to you, you know?”

Faith sat down next to Grace and hugged her.

“So am I to assume that you two fought about this yesterday?”

 “Not exactly – he didn’t fight. He just let me rant and rave and say unspeakable things to him and then he just went to bed. I didn’t mean to hurt him, I just don’t know if I can handle it again.”

 “Talk to him, I mean if you simply can’t face it, you could adopt….. you’d do that wouldn’t you?”

 “Yes…. I just don’t know if that would be enough for him.  He lost a baby too you know.”

 “Yeah I remember that, and is ex girlfriend died too……… between you, you’ve been through the mill huh?”

 Grace nodded and the tears started again.

 “Come on, it’ll be OK, just talk to him. You’ll be OK. You love him right?” Grace shook her head  yes “And he loves you?”

 “I think so, at least he said he did yesterday”

 “So get him over here and talk”

 “I can’t”

 “Why not?”

 “He’s flying to Vancouver for re-shoots” she looked at her watch “About now…. for two weeks”

 “Well call him, text him, e mail him, use modern technology for heaven’s sake. Don’t stew for two weeks. I’ll keep Hannah til Tuesday OK and then you’re just going to have to pull yourself together for her sake”

Grace did try to pull herself together and resolved that evening to call him in the morning but that’s when his note arrived - it didn’t exactly seem to her to shout ‘I still love you’ or ‘call me’.  She sank into further despondency.  His note hadn’t finished it but it might as well have from where she stood. His cold tone was obviously preparing the way for him to bow out gracefully before finding himself stuck with her. She was spiralling down rapidly into self pity. One moment she would find herself raging against the fate of her losses and infertility which had left her so scarred and fearful of trying to have more children. The next she was wishing she’d listened to the warning voices all those weeks ago in Stamford that had said ‘in any future, he’ll want babies and you’re too scared to go there again so back off now while you can’.  But she hadn’t been able to fight the feelings he stirred in her. Feelings and passions she’d not felt in so long.  It had been so good to be loved, truly loved again and to love him back.  

Tuesday dawned and she knew she needed to get herself together for Hannah when she collected her from school.  She called Sandy, hoping that she was in LA and could help her gain some perspective before she lost the plot entirely. Happily Sandy was home and invited Grace over for lunch.

“So what’s been going on with you? I haven’t heard from either of you in weeks and then Jesse’s daughter told me Keanu has a new girlfriend and showed me your picture in ‘People’. So you guys went for it huh?”

“Yes - but now I wish I’d just left well alone. It’s all turned sour” Grace began, face betraying the hurt she was feeling.  She began to explain everything to Sandy.

Like Faith, Sandy tended to think Grace was being overly negative about trying for a baby both in terms of her own low expectations and her assumption that Keanu wouldn’t go into it with his eyes open about the risks. But she also said that if it was all too terrifying for her to embark upon again, she was sure he would come to understand and they might explore alternative parenting options. In telling Sandy how the discussion had gone, Grace could see that all she’d really done was let off steam about her fears without ever really letting Keanu speak to put across his point of view.  Her stomach turned over as she described the remark about Hannah being a real child as opposed to a dream, recalling the pain in his eyes. It was small wonder he’d not left her an affectionate note! By the time she left to collect Hannah, Grace felt so much more positive and resolved to call Keanu and apologise that evening, hoping he’d at least accept her apology and be willing to talk more when he returned home.

But when she called, the phone was switched off.  She left a brief message on the voicemail apologising and asking him to call. She realised she didn’t know where he was staying so her only other option was e mail of which she knew Keanu was not a fan. He reluctantly used it sometimes but she didn’t even know if he’d taken his laptop with him and he wasn’t the type to go to an internet café, that’s for sure. She sent him the briefest of notes and crossed her fingers that he would be in touch before too long.

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[erinoddly]

Okay, I fumed about this some in the rant I just posted and then deleted, but let’s talk more about this specific issue:

English scholars and gatekeeping literature.

More specifically: Upholding outdated values of what makes a piece of literature ‘worthwhile,’ in this case specifically surrounding collegiate English communities. I’m aware that there are more than likely others outside of the college community who feel the same, but I’m going to talk about what I know.

Last semester in one of my classes, a debate started up. This debate was surrounding the following statement said by one of my classmates:

“Ebooks, self-publishing, and fanfiction are killing literature.”

At first, I thought that there was no way that statement would stand. I mean, it seems so outdated. But the thing was, only a couple of my classmates tried to argue against it. Almost everyone in the class agreed. And among those who did argue, the majority argued against the ebook point, one or two argued against the self-publishing point, and no one argued against the fanfiction point. I was the only person in my class who tried to argue against all three of the above points. And I’m pretty sure that the other people who argued against any of the points....weren’t English majors....

I became an English major thinking that people who studied literature did so because they had an appreciation for it. And I had always had this naive view of the world, where people would want the things they appreciate to be shared with a wide audience, not locked away where only a select few can enjoy it. I thought that this would be especially true for English majors, since so many of our discussions are about the roles and treatment of minorities in society, about classism, about equality.

But instead, I came across more people than I would have liked who seem to actively want to keep literature out of certain hands just because they have a list of criteria of what makes a piece of writing ~*worthwhile literature*~ and if it doesn’t hit every criteria, then it’s worthless and “killing literature” (and trust me, that phrase has me rolling my eyes so hard it hurts. Humans have always been storytellers and we always will be. Literature isn’t dying any time soon. Only your outdated ideals of what it ‘should’ be are.)

So. Let’s start with the idea that Ebooks are killing literature.

The classmate who said this works at a locally owned used bookstore. So I wholeheartedly understand the idea that online shopping is killing local businesses and that being able to buy books in an electronic format is making people less likely to buy physical copies, especially at smaller bookstores. That’s a valid fear that a lot of people have. And I’m not going to get into whether or not that’s factually correct because that isn’t the point (also I’m too lazy to find the research on it.)

The fact is, whether or not they’re killing small bookstores, ebooks make literature more accessible.

My mother has bad eyesight and needs a new prescription on her glasses. But she doesn’t have insurance and can’t get in to see an optometrist. But she absolutely adores reading. So guess what happened when I told her she could get the Kindle app for free on her computer? She lit up like a Christmas tree. It’s so much easier for her to read because 1. she doesn’t have to bend over a physical book and hurt her back and 2. she can make the font as large as she needs to in order to not strain her eyes. She also found books from her favorite authors that were electronic only. And yeah, there are a lot of ethical dilemmas about Amazon. I’m not saying there aren’t. But ebooks can be a better alternative for people with bad eyesight. And there are probably plenty of other disabilities that ebooks help with. Hell, I prefer ebooks sometimes because there’s so much more you can do with a computer interface that makes note taking, highlighting, bookmarking, using indexes, etc. so much easier than a physical copy of a book.

But, you know, it’s funny that my classmates (who are usually young and have decent eyesight) don’t complain about audiobooks killing literature as well. Even though a lot of them prefer listening over reading. But then again, a lot of them find the books they want to read for free on youtube and listen to them there instead of buying an audiobook. But I guess that’s okay.

This isn’t even bringing up the point that ebooks are less expensive than physical books. I grew up poor. To me, buying a new book is a luxury. So I get new books way less often than I would like to because I feel like I can’t justify the expense. I mean...upwards of $20-$30? For one book? But I can get ebooks online for $1-$5 sometimes. It’s so much easier to justify buying a new ebook every now and then than it is a physical book, though I still like to buy in person when I can.

Now the next point: Self-publishing

Okay. This one hits hard. My class was discussing this one as if the only authors who self-publish are the ones who were too awful to be accepted by traditional publishers. Which is bullshit. I’m not going to get much into this point because I’m writing this on a writeblr account and this community has talked a lot about traditional vs self publishing and I’m not going to rehash the same arguments.

But there are a couple of things I want to bring up.

Not everything that’s traditionally published is good literature. *cough*50shadesofgraygettingpickedupbyapublishingcompany*cough* And not everything that’s self-published is awful. One of my favorite series of all time was self-published. And sure, it’s got its flaws, but so does any piece of literature.

Getting published traditionally isn’t a matter of skill. You can be a great writer and never get picked up by a publisher if you’re not writing the right thing at the right time or if you’re not lucky or this or that or whatever. And there are some not so great authors who do get published.

And let’s be honest. The publishing industry is a complete mess in need of an overhaul right now. There have been at least two diversity scandals that I’ve heard of just within the last few months, one of which was making major headlines. And this definitely throws a wrench into the ‘getting traditionally published’ idea, especially for authors of color, LGBT authors, or authors that are trying to bring more diversity into mainstream literature. If you aren’t meeting a white man’s ideals of what diversity should be and are lucky enough to get picked to be their token diverse author of the year, you’re not going to get much in the way of marketing, if you’re even lucky enough to get published to begin with. But most of the diversity issues are around POC specifically and I feel like it isn’t my place as a white woman to talk about this any more than I already have.

And even with all this in mind, some people choose to self-publish over traditional publishing. It doesn’t automatically mean that they got rejected and took it upon themselves to share their masterpiece with the world despite the publishing industry telling them it’s a piece of shit, or whatever the gatekeepers think.

And the last point: Fanfiction

okay. listen. i’m done with this argument. we shouldn’t have to defend the existence of fanfiction. and I’m tired of arguing with people over whether or not it’s a literary genre or not. because it is. end of story. i’m not taking any criticism at this time, thank you.

It opens the door to new writers.

Some readers are more likely to read about characters they already know rather than trying to get to know brand new characters, but can also serve as a gateway to introducing to people to reading literature.

Some fanfics are written better than a lot of traditionally published literature than I’ve read.

Fanfic writers don’t even get paid, even when they crank out a fanfic longer than a novel. Like? What saints

It feels like, and I may be wrong but, fanfic writers tend to have more consistent one-on-one interaction with fans and those fans (no offense) in some cases tend to be...how do I say this....extremely entitled.

People have been writing fanfiction for who knows how long. It isn’t exactly new. But just as the internet is making it easier to access traditional literature, it’s making it easier to access fanfiction as well.

And a host of other things. FANFICTION IS NOT KILLING LITERATURE YOU PRETENTIOUS ASSHATS. YOU JUST WANT TO PRETEND THE ONLY FANFIC WRITERS ARE CRINGEY PRETEENS WHO DON’T KNOW HOW TO WRITE. And you know what?? So what if preteens are writing fanfic? That doesn’t mean it has no literary value. And it’s teaching them lessons and helping curate and improve their creative writing skills. It’s like you expect writers to just pop out of the womb with a quill in hand, a cigarette between their lips, twirling their fucking handlebar mustache as they discuss the value of metaphors in Paradise Lost with the doctor before writing a masterpiece as their family takes them home from the hospital for the first time.

TLDR; we can’t argue that something is ‘killing literature’ when literature isn’t dying. The medium is shifting with the times, just like everything else, while some people’s close-minded ideas of what constitutes ‘good’ or ‘worthwhile’ literature is stagnant. It’s irresponsible, as literary scholars, to gatekeep literature. All you’re doing, in the end, is shaming people out of reading in general, let alone reading what you believe are the correct things to read in the correct ways of reading them. You can’t argue the value of minorities, class differences, and diversity in literature and then also try and claim that only certain types of literature are allowed, when narrowing down those types blocks the very people you believe literature is supposed to uplift from accessing it.

[drrjsb]

Body & Soul: The Endgame Fix “Part One: The Price”

Summary: If you weren’t happy with Avengers: Endgame, here’s your fix-it fic! We start on Monday, October 22, 2023: Eleven days after achieving time travel, six days since losing Natasha, five days after the Hulk Snap, two days since Tony's funeral, and one since Steve went into the Quantum Realm and Old Man Steve appeared.

[Monday, October 22, 2023]

“Five days! It’s been FIVE WHOLE DAYS that you’ve been walking around like this? Just what the hell were you thinking, Bruce?” Dr. Helen Cho swore intensely as she escorted an ailing Dr. Bruce Banner down the Avengers Quinjet ramp to the rooftop at the U-GEN building in Soule, South Korea. The more she saw of the obvious physical damage inflicted by the Infinity Stones, the more the geneticist was getting wound up. This was a complete reversal of their normal temperaments as the healer began to rant at her friend and professional collaborator, and the physicist calmly accepted her chastisement with a sheepish smile and a shrug of his broad shoulders underneath his tailored charcoal gray suit.

His right arm was now out of the sling he’d used during Tony’s funeral a few days before, but it was an obvious mismatch with his healthy left arm. “안녕하세요to you, too, Helen,” Bruce replied with a good-humored laugh. “By the way, this is Princess Shuri of Wakanda,” he said, gesturing behind them with his good hand to the slim, bright-eyed teen who was enjoying a laugh at his expense as she tucked a meter-long cylindrical container under her arm to bring off the Quinjet with her. “I believe you’ve already been consulting over the Internet,” the physicist added.

Helen suddenly flushed with embarrassment and turned to her other visitor. “Oh, my apologies, Princess Shuri. I’m sorry for being so rude. It’s good to finally meet you in person, your highness.”

“No problem, Dr. Cho. Please, just ‘Shuri’ is a lot easier.” She reached up and gave Bruce’s good arm a pat. “This is more important, and you are right to give him Hell for not getting here sooner,” the young woman chided Bruce.

“Just ‘Helen,’ please,” the older scientist said, feeling very chagrined.

“Hey, I tried to get here faster, and you know that, Princess,” Bruce needled the young Wakandan prodigy in return since they’d had to detour for her to pick up her package in Oakland, CA, on the way from Upstate New York to South Korea. Bruce turned to his colleague, “Please, Helen, you’d just gotten back to your family, and there were too many other things going on after the battle at the Avengers Compound to have more than triage done anyway. Thanks to Shuri and her medics, it’s been stable or improving over the last four days, and if you look closely,” he pulled back his blue dress shirt’s collar and bent down for a better view of his neck, “it’s starting to regenerate around the edges of the burn.”

“I could tell that from some of the scans you sent, but let’s get inside the lab, and I’ll judge for myself.” Bruce was just able to fit his oversized frame inside the freight elevator with the two scientists by ducking and crouching a bit. Squeezing through the doors on the staircase would have been worse. When they arrived at the correct floor, Dr. Cho led them into one of her lab spaces where the third generation of “the Cradle” and its related research projects now resided. “I’m sorry for the mess and disorganization. The program and our research agenda continued in my absence, but I’m almost back up to speed.” Bruce noted everything looked as neat and well-organized as it always had in the past.

Helen kept grumbling to herself in both English and Korean as she helped him take off his clothing from the waist up before tackling the protective sheathing and nutrient treatment wrap shielding his right arm. The irony of their character reversal—her anger and his calm—wasn’t lost on him, and he bit his lower lip to avoid smiling too much and antagonizing her. She still shot him a deadly glance. “Don’t you dare smile unless that’s from the pain meds, Banner,” Helen threatened. He doubted there were currently any pain meds involved since they’d never been effective for long after his original “accident” altered his metabolism. He was used to being stoic about it as Banner and irritable when he’d been just Hulk about three years ago. Now that he’d co-integrated, he was enduring it as good-naturedly as he could.

When Bruce had Skyped Helen very early that morning (tomorrow afternoon for her with the 13-hour time difference), her husband Philip had to reassure her she wasn’t being pranked. A much larger and greener Bruce explained to her that while she was gone for five years, he had made peace with his anger-prone alter ego and “merged” with the Hulk. If it weren’t for his voice and facial expressions, she wouldn’t have recognized her old colleague in the new Bruce. Even face-to-face, she was still feeling a bit unnerved by his floor-to-ceiling size, but he was surprisingly nimble and coordinated as he maneuvered around the delicate equipment. She had to admit, especially with the geeky glasses and easy-going confidence, the new Bruce was pretty charming.

The U-GEN staff had brought in a reinforced examination table for Helen to use, so she could examine him since he was now roughly seven and a half feet tall and about 900 lbs. Not as big as his former temperamental Hulk form had been, but this Bruce was now closer to Hulk physically than Banner’s spare 5’ 9” frame. Thankfully, his intellect and puckish sense of humor were as prominent as ever; still, this was a lot to wrap her head around on top of everything else she’d missed in five years. To be honest, having a project like rehabbing Bruce’s arm helped her focus since she was having difficulty fitting back into her own projects that had moved on without her. In cutting-edge science, five years felt like a lifetime. She wondered what Nat thought about this metamorphosis since he hadn’t mentioned her yet, and they’d seemed to be getting so close. They were all definitely going to have to catch up and talk about this later. Right now, the geneticist needed to see what they had left to work with function-wise and determine a course of treatment or make some tough decisions about whether or not to remove the limb. She guessed this was just one of several likely reasons for the Wakandan wunderkind to be involved since she’d reportedly redesigned Sergeant Barnes’ prosthetic.

Now that Bruce’s upper body was exposed, Helen studied the extensive wrapping protecting his arm and shoulder. “Here, may I please assist you, Helen?” Shuri offered as she caught back up to them in the right section of the interconnected areas. She’d gotten a little lost in thought as she’d curiously looked around the cluster of labs on that floor. (She could hardly wait for the tour!) She’d been taking a lot of mental notes since the final showdown at the Avenger’s Compound as she’d met many interesting people.

As soon as Tony’s body had been taken away from the battlefield crater, she’d approached the exhausted Hulk as he collapsed onto his knees in the rubble. It didn’t take a genius to see he was obviously injured and overwrought, but she was surprised to learn he was not the angry alter ego she was expecting, but the good-humored physicist she’d teased about Vision’s neural configuration who was now broken down before her. Bast forgive her, how she’d mercilessly critiqued Banner and Stark’s work on the synthezoid just before the Snap! Now, it felt like a lifetime ago, and so much had changed while she was “blipped.”

On the day of the second battle, Shuri had quickly sent an assistant to look for Natasha Romanoff, knowing that’s who should have been there to share their loss together only to be told by one of the Dora Milaje that the warrior and spy had sacrificed herself before the battle had even started. Shuri had quickly stepped forward and taken charge of Banner’s care on the battlefield. It was devastatingly obvious to her he’d lost the two most important people in the world to him, but she’d be damned if he was going to lose his life or his arm next.

Tents were set up in a field away from the blast crater where the Compound had been. Only a few of the storage buildings and a maintenance facility toward the very back of the property had been spared due to the angle of attack, so the survivors took Bruce and the other wounded there where they still had electricity and running water. Her initial scans showed he had unusual radiation burns, similar to what Stark had suffered. “So, are you the fool or the hero responsible for bringing us all back, Dr. Banner?” she surmised.

“It was a team effort,” Bruce acknowledged, yet he demurred taking credit even after paying such an awful price. She estimated he had paid about 160 pounds of flesh to return half of all life in the universe—including hers and T’Challa’s—so maybe it wasn’t such a bad deal? Of course, that put a lot of people in his debt. She, however, was one of the few in the unique position of being able to pay him something back now when he needed it.

“Joint effort or not, you alone wore the Gauntlet and made it happen. Thank you, Dr. Bruce Banner. You don’t even have to say, ‘You’re welcome,’” she added pertly.

Despite the pain, he’d smiled and nodded. “You are welcome, Shuri. I just wish Tony had let me do it the second time.”

She shook her head. “Even I, who never met Mr. Stark, know he wouldn’t have let you, and it was not your fate.” The older physicist simply sighed and shook his head as the tears started to fill his eyes again. “Whether you like it or not, Bruce Banner, you are the one who is going to survive, especially if I have anything to say about it.” He looked at her and almost laughed through his tears. That’s when she was sure he had some fight left in him. “Besides, who am I going to teach how to make synthetic synapses work properly if you don’t stick around, hmm?”

That had gotten a small chuckle out of him, so she and an assistant had set to work removing the burned purple, grey, and black tech suit from him. The tricky part had been separating it from where the material had melted onto his tough skin, especially the spots on his back and hand where the healthy tissue was starting to regenerate around the fibers. That wouldn’t have been an issue if the uniform had been made out of Vibranium, which she could easily have made to separate or meld with organic tissue by merely adjusting it with one of her Kimoyo Beads. This was a different carbon-based weave that incorporated organic materials with the high-tech microstructures. At Bruce’s suggestion, the healers used their Beads to apply cold and the fibers shrunk enough to be removed with a dental water jet. They were nothing if not resourceful that afternoon. Next, they applied a Wakandan cooling nutrient wrap to disperse the heat and protect the burned tissue from infection. It was no secret that aloe was a major ingredient, and it also had a pretty powerful anesthetic. However, her patient didn’t need to know that. Eventually, he’d slept stretched across four cots.

Continue on AO3, WattPad, or FanFiction.Net

[ocean-park-avenue]

Tom Hiddleston X Reader: Your Solace

Relationship: F/M

Words: 1581

Tags: Injuries, gore-ish, Angst

Originals found on my AO3 account: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18797740

Summary: Something goes wrong at the Endgame premier in LA.

The loud cheering of the crowd echoed of the lit streets of Los Angeles. Black and white limousines pulled up against the curb. The driver of each opened the black door to reveal each stunning celebrity that was dressed in the finest of fashion and elegance.

You sighed.

So far, almost the entire cast of Endgame was on the red carpet now. You spotted Chris Evans and Anthony Mackie laughing along with a cute blonde reporter. You also spotted Tom Holland and Benedict Cumberbatch having a casual interview with a reporter from Entertainment Tonight.

All this commotion and still, you had not seen Tom Hiddleston once.

You sighed again, deeply.

A small hand slapped your back, causing you to bump into the metal bars that separated the common public from the busy celebrities on the other side of the road.

“Oops— sorry!”

You glared at your friend Tamara. “You didn’t have to slap me to get my attention.”

“Well, it’s really loud. So, it was the best way to not cause a scene,” she replied sheepishly.

You just chuckled and went back to facing the red carpet. “Yeah, whatever.”

More limousines pulled up to the street side. You could see Pom Klementieff, Evangeline Lilly, and Jon Favreau step out of each of their vehicles and wave to the adoring crowd.

“Still don’t see Hiddleston?” Tamara asked as she leaned on the metal rail with you.

“Nope.”

“I’m sure he’ll show. I think he tweeted that he was coming. I’m not sure though.”

“Oh, no. It’s fine if he doesn’t show. I can still admire Sebastian from here.”

Tamara giggled. “Yeah, but I specifically bought these tickets so you could meet him . Though, your not wrong about Stan. That navy suit works for him.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” You waved your hand dismissively. “If the universe doesn’t what me to meet my idol, it’s fine.” You focused your eyes back to the red carpet and exhaled loudly.

“Well, fuck the universe then! I say you will meet him! And he will come! As a matter of fact...”

By now, you had already drowned out Tamara’s voice. It wasn’t that she was annoying of anything. She just had a habit of constantly rambling on unless someone or something interrupted her. You’d learned it was better to let her be. Interrupting her just made her forget what she was saying and then have her repeat it all over again.

The next line of limousines had pulled up to the curb. The drivers each held the door open. Out stepped Chris Pratt, Josh Brolin (you still hadn’t forgotten what Thanos did to Loki in Infinity War), and finally...

Your breath hitched when a smiling Tom Hiddleston came out of the last limousine, enthusiastically waving to the crowd of Marvel fans, guarded by the metal railing you were having trouble grasping.

It was him. It was really him , in the flesh. Not some picture on the internet, just him . Tom Hiddleston was right in front of you (well, more like a roads length away).

You wanted to yell out to him or something , but the lump in your throat said otherwise.

“...and that’s why is so important that this happens for yo— Hey, isn’t that him?” Tamara finished her rant and looked to the same man your eyes were locked on.

All you could do was nod.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Yell out to him, flash him for all I care,” —Tamara earned an elbow to the stomach for that comment—,” just do something. You deserve his attention more than any of these thirty thots.”

“Hey! That’s a bit rude. And no I don’t. They all paid for their tickets, just like us. I deserve as much attention from him as anyone else here. I’m not someone with special privileges.” You retorted.

“Yeah, but you’ve been through so much just to get to this point in your life. You at least deserve a little recognition for that.”

Tamara was starting to sound childish at this point and you rolled your eyes.

“My life is far from what I want it to be,” you said looking down at the asphalt road. It’s even unbearable sometimes .

“Ugh!” Tamara groaned. “You’ve been through so much shit and you don’t give yourself enough credit for getting through it all! Your family is full of assholes, your dating life was filled with assholes at one point, and even your friends were assholes! Well— not me. And...”

As Tamara began to rant again, you looked back at Tom. He was standing next to Chris Hemsworth as a report mainly asked questions aimed at the blonde. Tom just smiled and laughed along with the jokes being told. You admired all of it from a far.

Your admiration for Tom Hiddleston came the first time you saw Thor: Ragnarok. You were just so amazed with how he portrayed Loki. You’d wished you had found out about him sooner. After, you binge-watched all his movies. Everyone seemed to be better than the last. You developed a deep respect for him, and from then on, vowed to watch every movies, film, play, or musical with him in it.

His work had come into your life when you were at your lowest. All you wanted to do was meet him and say how thankful you were. Without all of his amazing acting, you wouldn’t have been here to see him in real life.

Taking a break from just blatantly staring at the man, you stretched your neck and looked down the side of the road. Your head stopped when you saw a man wearing all black enter a black SUV with a pistol in his hand. In the front seat, he started up the car and cocked the gun. Your eyes widened.

As soon as the car started driving, your legs were already hoisting yourself over the metal bars. A few security guards tried to run after you but all you could focus on was the the car speeding down the road.

Everything moved in slow motion from then on.

You ran as fast as your legs could carry you and managed to make it to the other side of the side walk before the car could run you over.

The window of the drivers side rolled down and a silver pistol peaked out from it.

Tom was just a step away from you when you heard the pistol fire and you jumped.

The world was no longer slow. Everything was loud and chaotic. The sound of people running and screaming filled your ears. It was irritating.

You wanted to cover your ears but you couldn’t. Your hands were already pressing firmly on the bullet wound on your stomach. You could feel the thick blood trickle onto your hands and down your side as you laid in a pool of your own blood.

Among the loud noise of screaming and running you could make out a familiar voice with a particular accent. “Oh, my God! Someone call 911! Get an ambulance! Now, please! She’s going to bleed to death!!”

You felt your torso lifted and placed into the lap of someone. That someone also joined in on pressing on the bullet wound.

Your vision was blurry and the loud noise mixed with the awful pain the wound provided was somehow becoming more relaxing by the second. Your eyelids felt heavy and your heartbeat slowed with each passing minute.

A pair of soft hands gently cupped your face and your eyes fluttered open. Tom Hiddleston stared down at you with an expression full of concern and worry.

“No, no, no. Please don’t fall asleep. You have to stay away until the ambulance arrives.” His voice was so calm, but you could hear the fret behind the facade.

“I want to sleep.” You mumbled as hot tears ran down your face. “I-it hurts too much.”

“Shh, shh,” Tom whispered. His thumb delicately moved under your tear-filled eyes yo wipe them. “I know, I know. Just, please, stay awake. They’ll be hear any minute.”

You began a coughing fit, coughing blood into your shirt. You felt the blood roll your jaw and onto your neck.

You focused on Tom’s rapid breathing, instead of the piercing pain the wound left in your stomach.

It feels so much better when I close my eyes, you thought and your eyes began to flutter.

Tom noticed right away and brought you back to your miserable reality. “What did I say? No sleeping, please.”

All you could manage was a nod.

There was silence before Tom spoke again. “Wh-Why?” he whispered.

“Wha...?”

“Why did you jump in front of the bullet? It was aimed at me and you ran all the way across the street just to take it for me. Why?”

For the first time in this terrible situation, you smiled. “Because of you. If I died no one would care. But if you died, all your fans would be left without you and you’ve helped so many people... including me. So, all I want to say is thank you. Thank you for everything you do. It means the world to me and so many others.”

You reached with both arms to envelope him in a hug.

At that moment all of the pain you’d ever felt, seemed to leave your body and mind all at once. You smiled once more. Your heart beat slowed and the world around you went black.

[namjuicyy]

Three’s A Crowd - Chapter One

Masterlist | Requests are open.

Genre: Angst, fluff, smut.

Genre of this part: Angst, fluff.

Word Count: 1.7k.

Summary: Your childhood friend shows you a whole new world, but no one expected what came afterwards.

Warnings: Low self-esteem, Jimin hardships.

"She was always there for me, it didn't matter that she couldn't understand what I was saying sometimes, she'd always answer the phone and listen to me complaining about my life."

Jimin's self-esteem was shot. Since he began high school, he had a problem with confidence and you had no idea where it came from. His parents and brother were always so supportive of him and praised him so much. Yet, there he was, texting you while you were trying to sleep because he'd made a small error in his practise and considered it to be the worst mistake he'd ever made in his life. There was no lie in your message, you were so proud of him when he sent you that video of him dancing to a Korean song you didn't know. You'd hoped that you could settle some of his worries. But that was evidently not the case when he asked to call you.

Chatting to Jimin on Skype was a regular occurrence, despite not being able to fully understand one another yet. You, since starting secondary school, had begun to learn Korean as an extra-curricular activity, and so every now and then you could pick up what he was saying. But you couldn't hold a conversation with him. So when he video-called you, and you were face-to-face, you didn't understand what he was telling you but it still felt right.

This morning was one of those times where he would call you just to rant at you. He was in the bathroom of his school, his chubby cheeks that he retained from childhood stained with his tears. His plump, bottom lip trembled as he weakly spoke to you, unloaded all his worries onto you and shared the weight of his burden. All you could really offer him were coos of the pet name you gave him and telling him that he was much better than he thought he was.

"Please, Jiminie, don't cry." You begged him in a whisper as you were too afraid to let your parents hear you awake at this time of the morning. "You're an amazing dancer, truly! I'm not just saying that to blow smoke up your arse, either. Anyone would be lucky to work with you, or watch you perform! You made one mistake, you're allowed to do that."

Jimin nodded, as if he was taking in everything you were saying. He couldn't lie, the soft tone in which you were speaking soothed him. He stopped crying when he heard your reassurance. He wiped his tears away and swallowed. "Thank you." He said in English.

In broken Korean, you thanked him for leaning on you.

"What time?" He asked.

"Oh, um, 3:20."

"Morning?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. You sleep."

In Korean you told him that you would, but only when you were sure he was happy again.

He laughed at your mispronunciation and your broken speech. Jimin was your best friend... really your only true friend. Sure there were people at school you hung around with, but you were sure you'd never see them again when you all went your separate ways. But you were learning a whole other language for Jimin. He must have been special to you.

He finally called it quits around 4:00am, practically forcing you to sleep. He blew you a kiss goodbye, as he usually did when you hung up, and let you get back to sleep. If he could have tucked you in, he would have.

Two mornings later, you received another call from Jimin, this time he was in a completely different mood. You were sat enjoying your breakfast when you received the call, something that made Jimin laugh. You would often have, what he called breakfast-dinner dates, because you'd just start your day when he called you about to end his. You couldn't make out a lot of the words he was saying, but you did hear "teacher", "good" and "grades", so you were assuming his recital was today and that he did really well. He certainly sounded like he did at least. He was rolling around on his bed like a mad man and was practically screaming at you. Your parents, who were also in the room and listening to him, were also chuckling to themselves. They understood nothing in comparison to you, so all they heard was a small Korean boy shouting at the top of his lungs. His happiness was contagious, though, and the rest of your day was spent with a smile on your face despite the people who went out of their way to purposefully attempt to upset you.

But it worked both ways, Jimin would call you to share news and you would call him to share news. He saw you crying more often than your own family did, and would always do something anything to make you smile again. He hated it when you were upset. He hated it more because he wasn't there to physically hold you, and gently rock you, and kiss you on the top of the head. He couldn't reassure you that everything would be okay like he would normally have done.

You began learning Korean at age 11, and by 13 you were pretty much fluent in the language, making Jimin's need to learn English almost obsolete. Jimin, out of everyone you knew, was the most proud of you. He'd refer to you as his bilingual bestie, and would often call you in the middle of lunchtimes at his school so he could brag to his friends about how you'd learnt his language in two years.

According to you, it was just a normal day in July. You woke up at seven o'clock, got yourself ready for school and made your way downstairs to your dining room where your dad had left you some breakfast on the table. Your mum was usually sat at the dining table enjoying her breakfast and reading through the day's news, your dad would come into the dining room after you with a hot drink for himself and your mum. Your life consisted of a blissful routine, except for that day.

Both your parents were sitting at the dining table, their breakfast hardly touched and massive smiles on their faces. Knowing grins and mischievous glints in their eyes which immediately gave away that they were up to something. You suspiciously went about your routine, commenting on how weird they were being. "Weird?" Your dad questioned. "Who's being weird? I'm not being weird. Are you being weird, my dear?"

"No, darling." Your mum responded. "I'm not being weird. Why would she think we're being weird? We aren't the weird ones here."

"No of course not."

You began preparing your breakfast and started tucking in, when you heard your mother tut. "What?" You asked, defensively yet playfully. "Can't I enjoy my breakfast in peace without my parents acting strange?"

"Do you want to know what's strange, honey-bumpkin?" Your mum asked your dad.

Your dad shook his head. "Honey-bumpkin?"

"It was the first thing that came to my head, alright? Go with it."

Your dad rolled his eyes. "What, poochie-pie?"

"Poochie-pie, really?"

"Well you called me honey-bumpkin."

"I feel like there's a point to this charade, guys." You piped up. "Anyone going to share it?"

"Right." Your dad shook his head again, this time symbolising that he was shaking away the previous seriousness to return to his playful banter with his wife. "What do you find strange, my beautiful wife?"

"Aw." Your mum cooed. "I find it strange how our little ___, who is usually so perceptive and smart, hasn't noticed that her plate is a little wobbly while she's been trying to eat."

"Really? She hasn't noticed the whopping great envelope under her food?"

"No she hasn't."

You saw it after they pointed it out to you. Your confusion was clearly etched on your face as you moved your plate out of the way to reveal a large envelope addressed to you. It was in Jimin's handwriting. Since you'd both entered the world of the Internet and discovered instant messaging, the letters became few and far between. The last time you saw his handwriting, it was messy and childish. But the lettering on the envelope was small, but neat. He'd improved a great deal. You turned it over to reveal a small, cute sticker keeping the envelope shut. It was a bright pink heart cartoon sticker that would be almost garish if it didn't come from Jimin. You, gently, in order to spare Jimin's feelings, peeled open the envelope to reveal a short handwritten letter from him.

"Read it out loud!" Your mum exclaimed, her excitement too strong to hide.

"In English!" Your dad interrupted, knowing your sense of humour would have made you begin to read it in Korean. You chuckled at how well your family knew you.

You cleared your throat and began to read:

To my bilingual bestie,

It's your boy, Chim-Chim here! It's been a while since we've done this, huh? I think the last letter I sent you was wishing you a Merry Christmas. Or was it a Happy New Year? I don't remember, I've slept since then.

I just wanted to let you know how proud we all are of you. You're doing so well in school, and now you're fluent in a whole other language. You continue to amaze me even now! I think you've even amazed your parents, too.

But my family and yours were talking and we thought it was a bit strange how you were fluent in the language of a country you've never visited before. Usually people visit the country then learn the language, but you've done things backwards. So, this needs to be rectified as soon as possible.

I hope you haven't made any plans for the summer break, because you're going to be spending it in Korea with me! SURPRISE! You have no IDEA how hard it's been for me to keep this from you.

Your mum and dad can't unfortunately get the time off work, but they've made us promise we'll pick you up from the airport and drop you off again when you go home. But I don't think I'll want to let you go home. I think I'll steal you and hide you somewhere where no one can find you, and then sneak you cakes and biscuits when nobody's looking. Yes. Let's do that!

Anyway, I'll see you in (at the time of writing this) 10 days, 12 hours, 30 minutes and 25 seconds. 24... 23... 22... 21... oh I'm so excited! Your arrival at Incheon can't come quick enough.

All my love,

Chim-Chim!

Xxxx

As soon as you looked up from your letter, your parents screamed at you. They ran over to you and wrapped their arms around you, still screaming at full pitch in your ear as you began to cry happy tears. You were going to finally meet your best friend in the whole world, and it was all down to the people you loved the most.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Michael After Midnight: Movie 43

I want you all to know I sat at my computer for many minutes trying desperately and ultimately failing to find some way to talk about anthology or sketch comedy films. I kept trying to come up with some comparisons to how well the horror genre handles these kinds of films (for the most part anyway). And I was totally going to come up with some brilliant, cutting lead in to talking about the black hole of talent known as Movie 43.

Sorry to disappoint you all. It’s a sentiment I share with just about every single actor in this film.

Movie 43 is a sketch comedy film, though honestly the “comedy” part should be in quotations because it takes a mind heavily impaired by illicit substances to find humor in this film. And look, I’m no comedic prude; I get a laugh out of stuff like Freddy Got Fingered, I’m not so snooty I’m above Scary Movie or getting a chuckle out of Step Brothers, I’m not only in to high concept British comedies or anything. But this, this really is bad on a level that even The ABCs of Death wasn’t, because as disgusting, vomit-inducingly bad as that film was, at least it was full of no-name actors with nothing to lose and no dignity to begin with seeing as they were in The ABCs of Death. This movie is not only stuffed to the brim with famous actors and actresses, most of them were roped into appearing in this out of strict contractual obligation rather than any real desire to be in the film. A lot of actors just got sucked in and guilted, only a small handful of them even showed up to the premier, and only Stephen Marchant has anything nice to say about being in the movie. Everyone else has at least enough dignity to be ashamed of their involvement.

I guess there’s no sense in prolonging this: let’s take a look at one of the most abysmal comedies of the modern age:

The Pitch: This is the framing device that is used for the US cut of the film, and thus the framing device I saw, in which a disgraced movie director played by Randy Quaid pitches his numerous shitty ideas to a producer, with said shitty ideas being all the sketches in this film. So basically, what you’re watching is what I can only assume was the actual pitch for this movie, and thus it sucks. There is nothing entertaining about this framing device; it really says something when the international version’s framing device, where kids look for a banned movie on the internet, sounds a lot better as a framing device.

The Catch: So apparently this was the first sketch filed, and it was used to sucker other celebs into joining the film. And I mean, it has Hugh Jackman and Kate Winslet, and who wouldn’t want to be in a movie with those two? Well, when Hugh Jackman has testicles dangling from his neck, I sure wouldn’t. This isn’t really the worst sketch because of its content, but it is awful because it just hurts so much to see something so embarrassing. You feel so bad for Jackman for having those fake testicles on his neck, and you feel bad for Kate Winslet for having to act through this with Jackman. It honestly makes me depressed just thinking about it.

Homeschooled: This is probably one of the few sketches in the film that actually approaches being amusing. In it, parents played by Naomi Watts and Liev Schreiber talk to another couple about how they homeschooled their kid, and how they made his homeschooling feel like authentic high school, complete with the parents bullying, hazing, and just making their poor son’s life into a living hell. All these jokes are pretty standard and basic, and of course they gotta throw in some incest jokes too and top everything off with some Oedipal imagery, but it could have been worse. Really, when it comes to this film, “could have been worse” is the best you can ask for.

The Proposition: Have you ever wanted to see Chris Pratt’s ex-wife ask him to take a shit on her? No? Well congratulations, fucker! You’re a normal, functioning human being, and not either of the writers for this shitty segment. This segment ends with Chris Pratt being hit by a car, exploding in a massive shit tsunami, and then his girlfriend finally accepts his proposal. What a load.

Veronica: Out of the entire movie, this might be the most inoffensive clip of the bunch; it’s not funny or anything, but it’s at least not as tacky and offensive as the others. I guess it helps that Emma Stone and Kieran Culkin are just really hamming it up for this one, as if they know they’re in a terrible bastardization of an indie movie scene and just want to make the whole thing look as dumb as possible. It’s not a good sketch, but it’s almost okay.

iBabe: So there’s this new life-sized nude replica of a woman you can use as an MP3 player. The fan was place din a certain spot that’s causing problems. Can you guess the spot, and the problem? If you’re the age of twelve or older, you sure can, and if you can, there’s really no reason to watch this pointless sketch.

Superhero Speed Dating: Batman is a dick to Robin. Tee hee. What a funny fucking joke. Next.

Machine Ki- Ok you know what? Fuck it. I am talking about the fucking speed dating segment, because it is just such an obnoxious, unfunny joke. Batman is just rude, condescending, and worst of all a total cockblock who doesn’t respect his partner, which is the sort of thing you see a lot in parodies of Batman mythos. And it’s just so… totally opposite of what Batman is, it doesn’t really subvert his relationship with Robin in a funny way either, it’s just “Haha what if Batman was a dick to his student?” And it’s just not funny. It’s lame, it’s lazy, and it’s a sign of someone with an extremely shallow knowledge of Batman.

Anyway…

Machine Kids: So it was kind of supposed to just be a joke, interrupting this segment to rant about the last one, but there is honestly just nothing I can say about this one. It’s a sketch that exists, I guess? It’s not particularly funny, it’s just something that’s real.

Middleschool Date: You know what’s really funny? Girls getting their periods. That’s the entire joke of this segment. If you don’t think girls getting their periods and teens freaking out over not understanding basic life facts is funny, this won’t amuse you. It also has a rather nonsensical ending, which certainly doesn’t help it out much.

Happy Birthday: This is it. This is the sketch that most closely approaches the realm of being funny. It’s about a guy catching a leprechaun for his buddy’s birthday, but the leprechaun is an obscene, nasty little bastard. It’s funny seeing Gerard Butler play a leprechaun, the joke is okay, the sketch doesn’t really overstay its welcome, and it has a juvenile but kinda amusing punchline. Maybe it’s just because everything else in the movie is so bad, but this one just isn’t really one I can muster a lot of hate for.

Truth or Dare: Halle Berry and Stephen Marchant go on a date and begin playing, well, truth or dare, and soon enough things go from risque to downright insane. If you’ve ever wanted to see Halle Berry make guacamole with a prosthetic boob, well, here you are. I feel it’s not worth it considering how nasty and disturbing the end is, but Marchant sure is unashamedly proud of being in a sketch with Halle Berry.

Victory’s Glory: This one is just boring and filled with bland stereotyping. It’s one you’ll forget exists as soon as it’s over.

Beezle: In the midst of the credits, we see how far James Gunn has come as a creator when we are subjected to this edgy piece of garbage he created. It’s about a girl who thinks her boyfriend’s animated cat is trying to sabotage her relationship, which he is. It has sodomy, brutal murder, bestiality, all that charming stuff from the man who brought us Guardians of the Galaxy. I guess this really is good as a showcase of how far he has come as a writer and director, because this ain’t Guardians, it ain’t Slither, and most importantly it ain’t good.

So… yeah. As you can see, there’s really nothing of value to be found here. Like yes, there’s an okay sketch in the middle of all this, but there were some passable ones in The ABCs of Death, and that movie was still shit. I’m sure you’re expecting some witty summation of this movie and its flaws, maybe a reiteration of how depressing it is to see so much talent wasted for unfunny jokes, maybe some sort of comedic take on all this garbage.

Well, that’s not happening. Even thinking about this stupid movie for this long has sapped my strength. I’m going to lie down. Fuck this movie.