#swayze is angry

[dontsnortpixiestix]

KITTY!

[found--family]

they couldn't let cesar and jesse return bc they would've taken one look at dean and cas interacting and known they had it bad for each other

[upsidedownwithsteve]

A Couple Days In (I Call You Baby)

Modern!Steve Harrington x fem!reader [6.8K] 18+ the two night stand au no one asked for, or, the fic where you meet steve on a dating app and then a snowstorm ensures you can't sneak out the next morning. PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Being single was becoming boring. 

Boring in the way that seeing your friends in love and having fun in a way that you weren’t was starting to hurt. A full ache, settling in your chest until it bore a hole there and stayed, taking up space where the heartbreak used to live. 

You weren’t heartbroken. Not anymore. You were less sad, less angry. You were bored. And almost always perpetually turned on. You didn’t want love, you certainly didn’t want another relationship but you were at the stage of feeling that yearning pull when you watched a romcom on your sofa, slumped against your roommate with a frown on your lips. 

“I think I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be touched,” you said mournfully, your gaze fixed in the way Patrick Swayze’s hand trailed down Jennifer Grey’s side. 

“Babe, this is rated a fifteen,” Robin snorted in reply but she ran a hand over your hair anyway. “It’s that bad huh?” She grinned when you whined at the screen, watching with wide eyes as Johnny Castle took off Baby’s shirt. 

You sat up, taking the blanket with you and Robin huffed, dragging her half back. There was an empty bottle of red wine on the table, Chinese takeout cartons and a mess of charging cables, your laptop, Robin’s cell phone. 

“I just want some fun,” you grumbled. “Nothing serious, just— just someone to fool around with.”

“You want a fuck buddy?” Robin grinned salacious, the movie forgotten as she turned to face you, leaning against the arm of the couch. “Should I go through my Instagram? Give you the name of every boy I know?”

“You know like, seven boys,” you scoffed but Robin reached for her phone anyway. “And no, god, no fuck buddies. Even that’s too much commitment.”

She laughed and pressed a foot to your thigh, the touch familiar and friendly. “Shit, are you actually considering a hook up?”

You squirmed, too warm. 

“You are!” Robin squealed, “wow. I never thought I’d see the day. Little miss relationship just wants a one night stand, a fuck ‘em and chuck ‘em kinda—”

“Robin,” you groaned, hands rubbing at your face because the idea of it was so out of your wheelhouse that it was comical. But then Patrick Swayze started crawling across the floor on your TV screen. You paused, frowning. “Fuck, is that bad? Is it bad if I want that?”

Robin scoffed, leaning over to grab the bowl of popcorn you’d both forgotten about. “What? Dude, no. Of course not!” Her voice turned softer, kinder. “You can do whatever you want to do. You deserve to have some fun.”

“I don’t know how to,” you whispered and your chest felt tight again, like that well of boredom was filing again, spilling over with sadness and heartache. You hated it. 

“What, have fun?”

You frowned. “No - well, maybe - no, how to hook up with someone.” You chewed at your lip, confused and panicking despite the fact you were still firmly seated in yours and Robin’s apartment. “Do I just walk into a bar? Pick a guy and ask him if he wants to come home with me?”

Robin spluttered out a laugh, gasping into her wine glass and she looked at you over the rim of it, eyes filled with humour. “Jesus, if you do, can you make sure I’m there to watch it happen?”

You set her with a withering stare, pulling the blanket up to your chest and gazing back at the TV, wistful. You sighed, resigning yourself to the fact that you most definitely couldn’t march into a bar and claim a prize for the night, no matter how many glasses of wine you’d nursed. Robin seemed to understand this, because she nudged you again, a socked foot poking at your knee. 

“You could always try online dating,” she told you mildly.

You scrunched your nose, not taking your eyes off of the way Johnny Castle was thrusting his hips. “Ew,” you replied, voice flat. “Like tinder? Nancy told me I’d never be desperate enough for tinder.”

Robin snorted at the mention of her prim and proper girlfriend but she shook her head anyway. “Nah, go old school with it. Try a website or something, one that doesn’t rely on a carousel of shirtless photos and men holding up either a fish or a puppy in their profile.”

You laughed, draining the last of your wine as you eyed your friend, liking the way the buzz lingered over your tongue, your head. "I bet this would be easier if I were gay,” you replied mournfully. 

Robin cooed, making a soft noise that definitely wasn’t a protest and she grinned. “You’d definitely be Nance and I’s third,” she poked at your cheek, smirked when you bit at it and rolled your eyes. 

----------

Robin left the apartment the next night with her good boots on, a smudge of blush on her cheeks and sad eyes. She stood at the door with her coat on, fussing with her bag as she tried for the twentieth time to wheedle you into going out with her. Guilt laced the small apartment, something that made your chest ache, but you tried not to let it show on your face.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come out with us? It’s Saturday,” Robin coaxed, “we can all get dinner, some drinks, go dancing…”

“Robs, I’m not crashing your date night with your girlfriend,” you told her again. “Go. I’m fine.”

The girl frowned, checking her hair one last time in the mirror, ‘cause she’d tried to curl it and you’d heard her cursing from the bathroom. “You know my girlfriend,” she replied, as if that was enough of a reason for you to join them. “Nance won’t mind.”

You smiled, a little sad, although you tried hard to make your eyes match your lips. You gestured to the TV, the soft blanket you’d pulled from your bedroom, the new bottle of wine on the coffee table. “Go,” you repeated again, this time more sternly. “I’m good. I’m great, in fact. I’ve got all the good ones.” You pointed to the lineup of films on your Netflix list, each cover showing off a different type of Hollywood boy of the month. 

“Top Gun?” Robin snorted, “that’s not even the new one, babe.”

You sniffed, mildly offended. “Young Tom Cruise has a certain je ne sai quois, alright?” 

Robin held her hands up, giving in. She smiled and backed towards the door. “Whatever does it for you. I’ve got my keys, ‘kay? Don’t wait up.”

“I won’t,” you called back, already hitting play on the movie. “Have fun!”

It took two glasses of rosé before you grabbed your phone, face feeling flushed, lips chewed to bits after you sat through scene after scene of handsome men, your mind wandering, your fingers drawing absentminded circles over your stomach, hand underneath your t-shirt. You groaned under your breath as you typed some buzz words into Google, hoping for a website that didn’t sound too terrifying, one that didn’t conjure up images of finding the love of your life, or a husband, one that left out religious words, ones that sounded too cult-like.

You hit the fifth result and quickly made a profile, one eye screwed shut in fear as you uploaded a photo, entering all the details they tried to glean from you, making it as vague as you possibly could. You hit submit, stared wide eyed at the loading screen and then within a blink, your own picture was staring back at you, one Robin had taken last year when you had very much been in a relationship. You were alone in it, in some corner of a party, the lights low, the shadows showing off the way your eyeshadow glittered, your lips a little glossy, your skirt short. 

You looked pretty, not too sweet, not too boring. 

Immediately, requests flooded in. Anonymous looking profiles with no photographs, empty descriptions and usernames like: ‘pu$$yworshipper69’ and ‘callmedaddy1982’.

You wrinkled your nose in disappointment, hitting delete on the messages that spammed your inbox, requests for feet pics, men wondering if you had more photos of your tits, bots that wanted to know if you were looking for love and, could you send your social security number?

Defeat was bitter on your tongue and you sighed, exiting out of your inbox only to be greeted with a new page that displayed singles in your area. One photo caught your interest, a boy with wild hair, kind brown eyes and a smile that seemed genuine. He wore a red shirt over a white tee, tanned in the setting sun, sitting on a beach and looking pretty. 

You clicked, the movie forgotten but the glass of wine lingering at your lips as you scrolled through his page, eyes flicking over details of his likes and dislikes, his age, his job. His name. 

Steve Harrington. Living in Hawkins, Indiana. You swallowed, wine glass left on the coffee table as you curled into the sofa and brought your phone closer to your nose. He had more photos in his gallery, all seemingly taken by someone else instead of the usual topless selfies that had bombard you at first. 

The boy and some other people - friends, you assumed - swimming in a lake in the sun, smiles brighter than the sky. Steve outside, sunglasses covering his eyes and dressed in an old faded band tee. He looked like he’d smell nice, like he’d give good hugs. Another, the last one, where the boy was shirtless. But someone else had taken it as he stood at the edge of a lake again, smiling like he’d been caught off guard. 

You hit the button at the top of his profile, the one that said: “send a message.”

A new page popped up, a little chat box that was intimidatingly empty and you stilled, staring at it. What did you say? How did you begin?

‘Hey, I’ve looked at precisely five photos of you and I know you work at some video store and I think you’re hot. Wanna have sex?’

You cringed, eyes squeezing shut as you quickly deleted the words, groaning at the empty space once more. You remembered what Robin had said, about how wanting to hook up with someone was okay. Loads of people did it. It was fine. 

It was fine. 

@INDIANAGIRL: Hey, how’s it going?

The response took a minute or two, but the wait was agonising, time stretching too slow. A speech bubble appeared on the screen, a sign that pretty boy was replying. 

@HARRINGTON98: hi.. i can't lie, it's going a lot better now. you're really pretty. you sure you clicked on the right profile?

You snorted, trying to remain unaffected by the harmless flirting. But a smile pulled at your lips and you pushed yourself further into the cushions, knees bent and phone resting close. You took a breath and typed back. 

@INDIANAGIRL: Ooh, self deprecating and daddy issues? You’re lucky you’re cute.

You stilled, letting out a groan that you smothered with a pillow after you hit send, ‘cause you were never this forward and it made your insides curl around each other, your heart beat too fast for you to keep up with it. 

There was a pause before his reply and you breathed out a sigh of relief at the little bubble of text.

@HARRINGTON98: haha, what can I say, I’m a catch. honoured to know that you actually took the time to read my profile though. 

@HARRINGTON98: so, apart from your friends and the bottle of wine persuading you, what’re you doing on this on a saturday night?

You smiled, knowing he’d taken the time to read through your page too, as short as your answers were. You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, nails tapping on your phone screen as you tried to think of the best way to reply. 

@INDIANAGIRL: Like you said, it’s a Saturday night. I’m definitely not here looking for love, if that answers your question. But I’m free, if you are?

You held your breath, waiting, eyes wide as the bubble appeared again, three dots dancing across your screen. It stopped, disappeared and started again. 

@HARRINGTON98: cool. do you wanna get drinks or something? 

@HARRINGTON98: it’s no pressure if you don’t. i’ve never done this before? can you tell? but we could hang out. if you wanted. 

You smiled when the second message came through almost immediately after the first. The boy’s obvious nerves settled your own and there was a sense of familiarity in his words, his ramblings. 

It made you feel bolder. 

You typed quickly, as if tapping out the letters faster made it easier to send. You looked around your shared apartment, at Robin’s half open bedroom door. She’d be back in a few hours, maybe less, with Nancy in tow and they’d take up residence on the sofa, Netflix on and another bottle of wine opened. 

@INDIANAGIRL: Neither have I but, we could skip the bar? Maybe hang at yours. 

Oh my god, you thought to yourself. I’m going to get murdered. This is how people end up murdered. Karen and Georgia would be so disappointed. And then:

@HARRINGTON98: 82 rowan street, BLDG A, unit 26

@INDIANAGIRL: Wow, you’re eager. 

@HARRINGTON98: like I said, you’re really fucking pretty

Your heart thundered. 

@INDIANAGIRL: Wait!

@INDIANAGIRL: Can we FaceTime or something? Before? 

@INDIANAGIRL: So I know you’re not a murderer. Or 80. Or both. 

You panicked then, realising what was happening, eyes scanning over the address this Steve Harrington had sent. It wasn’t too far from you, a subway ride out of the city and maybe a ten minute walk at best. You chewed your lip, cheeks burning as you scanned back through his photos. Cute smile, kind eyes, hair you wanted to pull on. 

Your phone buzzed and you swore. A cell number,  a smiley face.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” you chanted to yourself as you typed the digits into the FaceTime app, stopping with a curse when the front camera showed your wide eyes and couch mussed hair. 

You flung the phone onto the cushions, jumping up so you could straighten out your sweater, smoothing down the flyaway strands that stuck to your forehead. You caught sight of one of Robin’s lip balms on the table, swiped some over your lips and you dabbed a little on your cheeks for good measure. 

Taking a deep breath, you picked up the phone again and hit the call button. Maybe the boy was panicking too, maybe he’d backed out, maybe he was standing in front of a mirror as well, swiping hand through his hair and checking his shirt for stains ‘cause it rang and rang and rang. 

Then, he picked up. Fuck. 

@Harrington98 wasn’t eighty years old. In fact, he looked exactly like his photos. He was really pretty. Really, really pretty. Jesus Christ. 

Tanned skin, brown eyes, wild hair, freckles scattered across his cheeks and jawline, creeping down to disappear under his shirt. He had the nicest lips you’d seen on a boy, pink, soft looking, smiling at you. 

“Uh, hey!” The boy greeted brightly, “I'm here for the murder test? Have I passed?”

You grinned, laughing a little nervously as you tucked your hair behind your ear and cleared your throat. “I mean, I haven’t seen your place yet. Any red string boards on the walls? Black and white photos of the same person? Jars of body parts in the fridge?”

He laughed, a nice sound, soft and throaty and warm. “Nah, nah,” the boy shook his head, his smile playful, brows furrowed. “Not in the fridge. The freezer, however…”

You watched the screen as he trailed off, smiling still, looking soft and too handsome in a plain, white T-shirt. “So. I’m Steve. S’nice to meet you.” He lifted a hand, endearing and only a little awkward, waving at you through the phone. 

You waved back, fingers wiggling. “Hi,” you felt shy, nervous. Flustered. You told Steve your name, smiling when he repeated it, trying it out on his tongue and it sounded a lot nicer on his lips than yours. 

“So, this is my place,” Steve announced, spinning his phone around to show you the apartment. It looked loved in, boyish, some old movie posters on the walls in frames, a clock that was showing the wrong time, exposed brick and a big leather couch. “There’s no bodies to be seen, but that’s ‘cause they’re under the floorboards. Obviously.” He turned the camera back to himself, eyes glittering, smile full of trouble. 

“Obviously,” you agreed, grinning, ‘cause it was hard not to. Not when he looked like that. “So shall I, um, bring anything with me or?”

You didn’t know hookup etiquette. Did you bring beers? Condoms? Your own pillow? Would you stay? Would he want you to leave? What if you couldn’t get a train back into the city if he kicked you out at three am?

God, would he kick you out at three am?

Steve glanced down at his watch and smiled sheepishly. “Uh, well. It’s almost eleven at night so I’m gonna guess you’ve had dinner. But I have some buds in the fridge, if you like beer.”

He said it like a secret, like you were both still skirting around the edge of the truth. But he looked down the camera at you with the right amount of flirt and confidence that let you know that he knew what you both wanted out of tonight. 

It wasn’t dinner. It wasn’t a date. It was just sex. And that was okay with the both of you. 

You nodded, fingers skimming across your lip out of nerves, out of curiosity, staring at the boy’s own mouth and wondering if he’d be nice to kiss. He looked like he would. You’d not kissed someone new in so long. 

Years. 

Fuck. 

“Okay, yeah, great!” You said it too brightly and you winced. “I’ll uh, I’ll probably be there in like, half an hour?”

Steve smiled and nodded, told you to call him if you needed directions but you waved him off, noncommittal, too busy wondering if you needed to shave your legs and I’d you’d be able to find your last good pair of black underwear. 

This was the part of the bad rom com movie where an early 2000’s pop punk song would play over a montage of you tearing the apartment apart as you tried to get ready. But Blink 182 didn’t start playing and instead, you could only hear the sound of your heart thudding in your chest. 

So when you hung up the phone, you launched it onto the table, almost sliding past the bathroom door as you ran to it, shedding off your comfy clothes as you went. You took the worlds fastest shower, ran your razor over all the parts you declared not smooth enough and drowned yourself in peach scented body wash. 

Deciding what to wear was difficult, ‘cause dresses were easier to take off but it was below zero outside and you weren’t fucking around with tights and extra socks. So you stole a pair of Robin’s jeans, ankles tripping over the hem of them as you struggled to pull them on at the same time you yanked a brush through your hair. Some concealer, a smudge of blush, mascara, more lip balm and you grabbed your bag on the way to the door, keys and phone in hand as you texted the group chat. 

‘82 rowan street, BLDG A, unit 26. I’m about to get dicked down. I think. Don’t wait up. But call the cops if I’m not home in the morning. Do I bring a gift to a hook up?’

Your phone pinged once, twice, three times. 

#1 gay friend: ‘bitch, what the fuck?’

gay friend’s girlfriend: ‘Babe, no. No gifts. Be safe though. Do you know this guy? Do we know this guy? Share your location rn.’

eduardo: ‘GEDDIT’

You sighed but did as Nancy asked, not bothering with a real reply but sending the link to find your iPhone. Your hands shook as you swiped your metro card and you weren’t sure if it was from the cold or nerves. Did you spray perfume? You couldn’t remember. But you were wearing your best bra, the one that made your tits sit up pretty but god, the wire was pressing into your ribs. 

And when you got out into the streets, out of the city where it was quieter and the sky held more stars, you revelled in the cold and the silence of it all. The world seemed lighter, a little rosy, in that way that only snow in the night could mean but the roads were still clear and the threat of it seemed weak. 

Still, you hurried, arms crossed to your chest, chin tucked into your coat as you followed the directions your phone gave you, Steve’s address a bright red pin on the map, a neon beacon, a big, fat booty call. 

His building came into view after a walk through a quiet Main Street, past the line of spruce trees and locked up businesses, a sweet town hall, a trailer park that vibrated with the hum of generators. The roads led you away from the middle of Hawkins, the map telling you which left and which right until an apartment block rose up between the parks and cafes, new looking and with shiny buzzers at the front door. 

You wondered if you should text him. You wondered if you should go home. You blew out a breath, a shaky one, watched how it lingered and  froze in the air in front of you and before you could stop yourself, your finger was pressing the button for number twenty six. 

--------

Steve Harrington’s apartment door had an alarm. It was loud and shrill and incessant - and it completely ruined your escape plan. 

There was a quiet countdown as you wrestled with the front door lock, keys jingling, chain clinking and then a beepbeepbeep begun, counting down like a ticking time bomb until it blared through the rest of the apartment. You’d managed to make it back into the bed in time, just as Steve jerked awake, shirtless and messy haired. 

“Wha—?” He grabbed a bat from the side of his bed and stumbled out the bedroom door, still half asleep. And when he seemed confident no one was breaking in, he dropped the bat and fell back into the bed with a soft thwack as his face hit the pillow. “Mornin’.”

You startled, still on edge, ‘cause the night before was… fine, but you hadn’t meant to stay the night. That wasn’t the plan, that wasn’t the idea. You were lying with your coat on, wide eyed with the duvet up to your chin and you yawned, all over exaggerated drama as you stretched out. 

“Oh, good morning,” your voice was too quiet. You felt nervous all over again. “Did your alarm go off? Weird. Well, I guess I should head home.”

You were already out of bed before you’d finished talking and Steve sat up, eyebrow quirked as he took in the way you were already fully dressed, searching for your shoes. 

“Did you sleep with your jacket on?” 

“I got cold,” you lied.

He snorted, easing himself back into the sheets and he watched you with careful eyes. Steve was just as pretty in the morning as he was in the dark. “Right. Do you always leave your hookups this quick?”

You turned, frowning at the obvious amusement in his voice. “I told you last night,” you reminded him. “I haven’t done this before.” The reminder of your lack of experience made your skin itch, heat flushing over your chest. 

The sex had been okay. Nice. It was good. Nothing mind blowing, but who was expecting that from a stranger they just met? And yeah, maybe you had to fake it, ‘cause you’d been on the edge of coming so many times that eventually it refused to return. Steve had spilled into a condom, tied it off and chucked in the trash and fallen asleep before you’d come back from peeing. 

Maybe you just weren’t cut out for one night stands. Maybe that was the problem. 

Steve laughed again and it wasn’t unkind, but it still set your teeth on edge. You shoved your foot into your boot and straightened up, staring at him. “What?” He laughed again, “c’mon, you’re fully dressed and tryin’ to sneak out my apartment before it’s even time to have breakfast. You have your escape plan down pat, I respect that.”

Again, you bristled. “Um, no, I clearly don’t,” you huffed out a laugh but there wasn’t any humour in it. You gestured to the front door down the hall, still closed and locked. “I told you. This is my first time doing— this.” You saved vaguely at him and the bed. 

Steve sighed and got out of bed, a small smile playing on his lips that were still a little swollen and red from where you’d bit and kissed them the night before. He pulled on a shirt, shrugged and padded barefoot to the hallway. 

“Listen, s’nothin’ to be ashamed of,” he drawled, leading you to the front door where he punched in the code to switch off the alarm. “Girls get horny too, everyone has needs. I, for one, have absolutely no problem with a girl that knows what she wants and if that’s all you’re after then—”

“Oh my god,” you scoffed at him, lips parted, eyes wide. Suddenly escaping the apartment wasn’t as high on your list of concerns as before. “You’re totally slut shaming me!”

Steve looked at you, bewildered, face scrunched up. “What? No I’m not!”

“You are!”

“No, I’m not!” He shot back. His hand left the chain on the door, your departure forgotten about. “I’m jus’ sayin’, that it’s totally okay for you to, you know, wanna get your rocks off.”

You spluttered, incredulous. “Okay, one: rocks off? What is this, 1986? And two, I know it’s okay for me to wanna have sex with a complete stranger! I don’t need a man to confirm that for me.”

The boy stared, lips parted and a look of genuine confusion overtaking his pretty features. He grimaced and then waved a hand at you, an unfortunately dismissive gesture that had your back up even further. You set your shoulders. 

“No, no, look,” he explained. “You’re taking this the totally wrong way.”

“Oh I am?” You grinned, sharklike, edging closer for a fight. He still smelled like last night's cologne, like your perfume and sex. “Want to tell me how I should be taking it? Wanna explain it to me?”

Steve narrowed his eyes, lips lifting, a sardonic kind of smile that made your heart race too fast. “That feels like a trap.”

“Wow, ten points for the smart guy,” you snarked. “If only you were as patient as you were clever.” You jostled around him, a hand on the door. 

“What does that mean?” Steve snapped, the door clicking shut as he leaned his weight onto it, too close to you, staring down as you gazed up, chin lifted, still defiant. “Patient about what?”

You laughed, humourless and mean, ‘cause you just wanted to go home. You raised your brows, still giving the handle a jiggle despite the way Steve blocked your exit, frowning. “Yeah, okay jackhammer,” you grinned, “maybe give a girl some time to try and come before you seal the deal and pass out.”

Steve gaped at you, offended and full of shock, and you felt a little bit guilty. Sure, you hadn’t come, but only ‘cause of a timing issue, not a skill issue. But still— 

“Yeah? You wanna play it like that?” Steve shot back, pushing off of the door so he could stomp into the kitchen. He rattled in his cupboards, pulling out a coffee mug that he slammed on the worktop. “What about you? Huh? Lights off, shedding all your clothes like a damn snake person and like, what’s with the whole—” he made a lewd motion with his fingers, mimicking rubbing at the air. “Way to make a guy feel benched, sweetheart. Got me fumblin’ around in the dark like a damn blind pig.”

You scoffed, eyes narrowing to slits, the door forgotten - again. 

“Yeah, well, points for enthusiasm pig boy, maybe next time you’ll find some truffles.”

“Oh, fuck you, man.”

“Fuck you too!” You said it cheerily, despite the anger that made your throat and cheeks feel too hot, the sneer that was on your lips. “It was so nice to meet you Harrington98!” And with that, you left, door slamming shut so hard your hand vibrated, and something on Steve’s kitchen wall fell to the floor. 

You heard him swear and you smiled, the most satisfied you’d felt. 

The stairwell was freezing as you stomped down it, more frigid than the night before. All you could think about was your own bed, that didn’t smell like a pretty boy with a bad attitude, where your sheets were softer and you could watch reruns of Schitt’s Creek until you forgot Steve Harrington’s name. You were never doing this again. In fact, you were deleting the damn app. 

You scowled, rooting around your handbag for your phone, huffing when your screen stayed back, no matter how many times you tapped angrily at it. You could only imagine the texts and missed calls that would be waiting on it for you, the shrieks that would greet you when you finally got home. You hoped Nancy had made waffles. Or pancakes - Nancy made good pancakes. 

And as you were trapped in a daydream about strawberries mixed in sugar, maple syrup and cream, you shoved your shoulder mindlessly against the front door of the apartment block, wincing when it didn’t give under your weight. You frowned, trying again, both hands shoving at the wood. It budged, just a little, leaving enough of a gap for you to see the whiteout that was on the other side of it. 

You made a sound of indignation, shock making your mouth fall open and you peered out through the gap. 

No. No, no, no, no. 

Snow crept up the door like an icy landslide, covering almost half of it, the rest of the parking lot covered in what you deemed to be a couple of feet of snow. Cars were half hidden and the sky was white, blending into the ground, a blank landscape that was just barely broken up by the still falling snow. The flakes were thick and heavy, dropping down over the town with an urgency rhat told you this wasn’t letting up anytime soon. 

Fuck. 

“—dude, I’m telling you, it was like falling asleep next to a princess and waking up to a raging dragon. She was like stupid hot and all, but then she started yelling at me? And I don’t know what I’d apparently done but… Jonathan, I’m gonna have to call you back.”

Steve stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking handsome and awfully guilty as he pulled his phone from his ear and ended the call he was on. He cleared his throat and tried to avoid the narrow eyed stare you were sending him, clutching the basket of dirty clothes he was seemingly talking to the laundry room. 

“You’re still here,” he noted and his voice was overly casual. “Interesting.”

“I can’t leave,” you replied, sounding as frosty as the weather outside. “Snowstorm. Can’t get the door open.”

“What?” Steve scoffed and shoved the basket into your hands. You tutted, moving out of his way when he jostled into your space. “You’re just not doing it right.”

You made a face, disgruntled and tried not to stare at the way the boy’s arms flexed with muscle when he strained at the door. You huffed out a laugh, smug, when it still didn’t move. 

“What was that?” You smirked, more haughty that you would like to admit. “You’re not doing it right, Steve.”

The boy smiled sarcastically, narrowed eyes and annoyance on his features. He took his basket from you and tutted. “Well. Good luck.” And then he walked away. 

“You’re kidding me?!” You were almost yelling, the sound making the boy stop and turn. “You’re not just gonna leave me here, it’s like the North Pole out there, I could be here for days.”

“That seems dramatic.” Steve walked back to you, too close, his laundry basket pressed between you. He made a show of thinking it over, lips twisted, humming. “So, what? You wanna come back to mine, is that it?”

You glared at him. “Unless you want me to sit in the freezing cold hall, I don’t have any other choice.”

“You called me pig boy,” he reminded you. He was smiling. He was enjoying this. “Among other names. You’re mean, sweetheart. Why should I help you?”

You resisted the urge to smack at his shoulder, bringing your hands to your lips in a prayer position as you took a deep breath and counted to three. Smiling - albeit tightly - you took your time to also remind him: “you were literally inside of me six hours ago.”

So you found yourself back in Steve’s apartment, grudgingly, and with nowhere else to go. You rolled your eyes when he brushed past you as you stood by the door, aimless and wishing you could be anywhere else. You showed him your phone with it’s blank screen. 

“You got a charger?”

Steve pointed to a cable that was plugged in by the couch and he ignored you as you moved through the living room. He clicked on the TV, groaning when he landed on the news and saw live footage of the city, the streets covered in marshmallow soft looking snow, untouched, ‘cause nobody could get out of their damn home. The train lines were empty, the streets deserted, and the local weatherman Richard Raines was standing in a blizzard, yelling at the camera. 

“Well, folks, I hope you’ve got enough food and someone to keep you warm at night, because this snowstorm isn’t done yet!”

Steve groaned at the same time you did. 

“We’ve got more arctic winds pushing in from the east and we’re expecting more snow over the coming days. Stay home, stay safe and keep warm! We’ll do our best to update you as more news comes in from across the State. I’m Richard Raines, live from Indi—”

The TV screen blinked and blacked out as Steve chucked the remote on the couch, letting himself slump down after it. Still, you stood, coat and shoes still on, bag still over your shoulder like you had somewhere to be. 

“Make yourself at home, I guess,” Steve muttered, waving a hand at the armchair across from him. “Fuck knows when you’ll get to go your own.”

Hell. You were in hell. 

“Okay. Right. I guess… shit.” You fell down onto the armchair, head in your hands and bag clattering to the floor by your feet. Your phone was still dead, charging slowly. “I need to tell my friend where I am. She’ll be worried.” You chewed at your lip and imagined Robin, pacing the apartment, calling your cell and yelling at the voicemail.

“About the possibility of you being murdered? Or will she be devastated to know her bestie had bad sex?”

You scowled at the boy’s surly tone, hating that he still looked good as he said it. Sprawled out on his sofa, legs spread, cotton sweats low, his T-shirt covering broad shoulders and strong arms. His hair was still a riot, deliciously so and now that he’d opened his blinds, you could see the faint purple mark you must’ve sucked onto his neck. You flushed. 

“I didn’t say it was bad,” you grumbled. “Just— shut up. If we’re going to be trapped in here, can we at least agree to pretend we didn’t sleep together? For sanity’s sake?”

Steve sighed, his expression unreadable, and he stood. Chucking his phone into your lap, you watched his face soften, if only just. “Sure we can, sweetheart. Call your friend, tell her you're safe.” And then he walked into the kitchen. 

The next few hours went by in relative silence, the buzz of the TV, the whirr of Steve’s coffee machine, the two of you sitting on either end of his sofa. You’d given in and taken off your shoes and jacket after calling Robin, the girl only quietening down after she yelled about how she’d planned your funeral, her words cutting off into a hush when she realised you were still at your hook-ups house. 

“Is he hot? Was the sex mind blowing? Oh my god, this is like, insane! Are you gonna have sex all day?”

You cut off her rambling with a noise of desperation, wary of Steve nearby. You promised you’d text her when your phone came to life, that you’d fill her in on the details when you got yourself home. 

By noon, Steve asked if you were hungry, his voice a little hoarse from pointedly not speaking to you and you nodded, feeling awkward when he went to the kitchen and started clattering around. So you sheepishly followed, taking up residence on a stool at the breakfast bar. He opened his fridge and you both cringed at the lack of contents inside. 

“D’you like ramen?” He asked instead, closing the door and heading for the cupboards instead. Steve pulled out two packets of instant noodles and shook them enticingly. 

“I do,” you answered, sounding way too polite and proper, but you were starting to feel increasingly guilty about your anxiety led argument that morning. “Thank you,” you added. 

He smiled and it seemed less forced than before. “S’not like I’m gonna let you starve.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did,” you replied quietly, and you met his gaze a little reluctantly. “I was kind of a bitch.”

Steve snorted but it wasn’t as mean as his laughter earlier. He dumped the noodles in a pot and winced when the hot water bubbles angrily at him. “Kind of?”

“I was a bitch,” you confirmed, nodding with pursed lips. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Look, I wasn’t exactly nice either,” Steve waved off whatever words you were going to say next. “I’m grumpy as fuck in the morning. And stupid, like, most of the time. I didn’t mean to imply that you were—” 

He gestured vaguely, the words dying on his lips, ‘cause he was more awake now to know not to say it again. 

“Slutty?” You said for him and Steve groaned before he realised you were grinning. 

“No! No, yeah, well, fuck,” he laughed, self depreciating and low. “You’re not a slut. But if you are, good for you! You know? And I guess that would make me a slut too… so, shit, cheers to that.” He slid your bowl of noodles, hot and spicy smelling and he grinned when you clicked the offered chopsticks against his own. 

“Cheers to that,” you agreed and it felt a little like a truce. 

————

Five hours later the snow was still falling and the sky had turned back into that dark pink-red that could only mean more to come. Steve had played through too many levels of Crash Bandicoot to count, laughing and throwing half hearted tips at you, because you were clearly a lost cause when it came to video games. 

Switching from his Xbox back to the TV, you were both unsurprised to find Richard Raines back in front of Indianapolis City Hall, red nosed and standing in a flurry of white. 

“Bunker down folks! This storm is here for the night! With another sixteen inches expected by eleven o’clock, we can all—”

The TV blanked out, Richard Raines cut off once again mid speech and Steve let his head fall back onto the couch cushions. There wasn’t much room between you both now, not nearly as much as there had been early in the afternoon and as you looked over at him, you were reminded of why you hooked up with him in the first place. 

God, he was stupidly pretty. 

He huffed out a tired sigh and pushed the gaming controller to the side, blinking before turning to look over at you, cheek pressed to the couch cushions. Steve was all floppy hair and honeyed eyes, five o’clock shadow and sharp cheekbones, a sharper jaw. 

You regretted not kissing him more when you had the chance. 

“Hey,” he murmured. “Wanna get high?”

....

[sparklingcid3r]

Do you have thoughts on Darry's pov about Pony getting jumped

If you guys ever want to just have a terrible night, go back and reread the way Pony describes Darry in the first chapter. It’s actually brutal and I can’t believe he let Darry read it😭🙏 He wanted that A bad

Because I swear, yall don’t need my thoughts on Darry’s pov because Pony is pretty much gifting to us, it’s just that it’s muddied by his own personal bias/narration that you miss just how much characterization Darry gets. If you take out Pony’s internal thoughts, you’d think Darry was the tamest/most thoughtful of the bunch through actions alone, even if he comes off a little heated.

I’m gonna go ahead and do it here anyway to show you what I mean. We’ll go in order from Darry’s first appearance to the end of the chapter, but I’m only giving you his actions and his dialogue. Toss up a prayer now bc Darry is done FILTHYYYY

(ignore my highlights, i j started annotating lol)

Immediately we’re introduced to Darry as the person who’s literally getting Pony back on his feet. He’s shaking Pony by the shoulders to get him to respond because he doesn’t always realize his own strength compared to Pony’s. This is probably the relationship he has with most of the gang since he’s most likely the one working out the most consistently of them all, what with his job and gym runs.

But when Pony tells Darry to stop, it’s not like Darry glares at him and says “I’m just checking on you.” Instantly, he recognizes he’s being too rough and apologizes.

This is a few lines later, after the description of Darry and their father, but Darry’s still the only one talking at this point. I thought it was interesting that he jams his fists into his pockets, and my thoughts are that he’s physically restraining himself from Pony as to not hurt him worse, especially since he’s asking Pony how badly he’s just been hurt.

This is Darry’s reaction to Soda calling Pony an okay kid and Pony grinning in response and calling Soda crazy. It’s the most sibling thing I’ve ever seen idk, especially when Darry just grins at Soda’s teasing and lets it go. It’s literally Darry being a softie in front of Pony, but it just doesn’t click for Pony yet give him a minute he’ll get there🙏 in two hundred more pages

I was pretty surprised when I went back and read the book. For some reason I misremembered Darry as being completely hypocritical whenever talking to Pony about school smarts vs street smarts, but he’s pretty much going out of his way to compliment Pony here.

And I mean, these are pretty tame bites at Pony, overall he’s being pretty lighthearted with his words. I wasn’t reading this with an angry Darry in mind, just an exasperated one that wishes his brother thought about his own safety more often so Darry didn’t have to do it for him.

Y’all probably remember this from the movie lmao, I love Patrick Swayze’s portrayal of Darry, I think he nails the character completely. Darry’s so obviously not angry at Pony here, especially not when he’s laying off when Soda tells him to.

Dally is figuring out who’s going to the Nightly Double with him, and I was surprised by Darry’s reaction. Canonically he doesn’t even like movies, Pony literally said it a few pages ago, so he’s either faking his disappointment (lmao) or would have actually gone for Dally, which was wild to think about.

So this was also pretty interesting. Even when I was a kid, my parents let me go outside and play with the neighbors for hours at a time, pretty much until it got dark. Things were veryyy different in the 60s, where it was normal for parents to go to sleep with their kids out in the night and wake up with them home, weekends especially. When considering that their parents are yk, dead, Darry wanting Pony to keep his grades in check on the weekdays only and handing off the reins on the weekend is pretty cool of him imo lol

And this was just adorable

But that’s it, the rest of the chapter is Soda and Pony talking about Darry, and then Pony’s internal monologue about how much he doesn’t need Darry and doesn’t care about him, but that he knows he lying to himself :(

Their relationship is one of the single greatest things in the book and honestly, Hinton makes it clear from the beginning what Pony realizes later: that Darry never once “didn’t care” about Pony or thought of him as a burden. Maybe he’s overbearing sometimes, but for someone who has so much pressure on him nearly all the time, he does a pretty good job with what he’s given 🤷‍♀️

His biggest flaw is his inability to communicate how he’s actually feeling to Pony, who he should know by now doesn’t take well to visual cues. But other than that, gold star for Darry Curtis!⭐️

[somethingvicked]

When Love and Hate Collide

Eddie Munson song-fic.

Song lyrics belong to the band Def Leppard!

warnings: female reader, cruel Eddie, angst!

Eddie walked out of his trailer, seeing you sitting on your own porch in the opposite lot with your boombox beside you, listening to your music. Usually your music taste was similar to his, but when you were in a low mood you always went for power ballads. He used to teased you about that but right now he felt like someone had punched him when he saw you refusing to look in his direction, writing in your notebook, silently lip-syncing to the song.

You could have a change of heart If you would only change your mind Instead of slamming down the phone, girl For the hundredth time

He had tried calling you, reasoning with you, begging your forgiveness but it was plain to see that this time you've had enough.

I got your number on my wall But I ain't gonna make that call When divided we stand, baby United we fall

You two had been best friends forever. Your parents had rented the trailer in the lot opposite his and Wayne's when you were barely four years old and you had hit it off immediately.

He couldn't say when those feelings had developed into love. Maybe when your parents had sent you to camp the whole summer and you hadn't seen each other for two months? Maybe it was when Gareth Heath had commented on how you had come back from summer camp with a 'rack of lamb'? Maybe it was when you said that you had a small crush on Patrick Swayze and he got furious because Swayze was a pretty boy, nothing like him and he wanted you to think of only him.

Yet, he never acted on those feelings, despite the hints you dropped. He was scared that if it didn't work out he would lose you forever. That was his worst nightmare. He'd rather stay just friends then.

Got the time, got a chance, gonna make it Got my hands on your heart, gonna take it All I know I can't fight this flame

It was plain to see that it hurt you. Especially when he got drunk and flirted with other girls - maybe just to see how jealous you got, to ensure him you still loved him and only him - or when he sold weed to cheerleaders and they flirted with him, wearing their short skirts and scratching his arm with their painted nails to get a reduced price.

You never did anything of the sort. You were in love with Eddie and wanted no one else. Good thing you didn't because he might have punched the guy you showed the slighest bit of interest in.

It was only because Patrick Swayze was a hundred miles away in Hollywood - and too old for you - that Eddie hadn't killed him.

Not really, but still.

You could have a change of heart If you would only change your mind 'Cause I'm crazy 'bout you, baby Time after time

But last night at the Hideout when some skank (your words, not his) had all but draped herself over him and he had done nothing to prevent it, despite talking to you merely seconds before, you had slammed down your glass on the bar counter top and walked out.

He had pushed the girl off of him and raced after you wondering what was wrong and you had turned around, looking at him with such hatred in your eyes that he had to take a step back. Your voice was colder than ice when you said: "I'm done. Done, Munson (not Eddie. Munson.). You've been hurting me for years. Friends don't do that. And since you claim that's the only thing we are, then I say it's a shitty friendship and I'm better off without it. We're done. Don't call me. Don't visit. Don't talk to me. Never again."

Without you, one night alone Is like a year without you baby Do you have a heart of stone? Without you Can't stop the hurt inside When love and hate collide

He had been struck by surprise, then paralyzing fear before he shook himself out of it. You couldn't mean it... right? No, you were just angry. You would get over it and understand he didn't mean anything by it. You always did.

He had cursed himself a million times over for not going after you when you walked off. He had gone back inside, thinking a little distance would make you cool down.

It was merely hours later that he realized what a mistake he had made.

When he got home he had tried calling you, but you didn't answer. When your parents answered the phone they didn't even bother lying to him - they said you didn't want to talk to him and that was that.

He went over to your place the next day but you didn't come to the door. He knew you were home because once again your mom refused to lie to him, she simply said that you didn't want to see him and that he had to respect your choice.

When Monday rolled around you took the bus to school from the trailer park. You hadn't done that in years, always riding with him in his van. In school you avoided him like the plague, sitting with Robin instead of the Hellfire table. When the guys heard what had happened they all looked at him as if he had killed someone. Or rather, killed you.

I don't wanna fight no more I don't know what we're fighting for When we treat each other, baby Like an act of war

Now he didn't know what to do. It was like someone had reached into his chest and cut his heart out. He had tried saying sorry, even put letters underneath your door, saying he would do better. You still didn't talk to him.

Deep inside he hoped you would again, that you would realize that you missed him, just like he missed you. But for every day that passed he slowly realized that whatever feelings you had for him, he had fucked up one time too many and the pan of the scale had tipped over.

I could tell a million lies And it would come as no surprise When the truth is like a stranger Hits you right between the eyes

"You got to make this right," Wayne said when Eddie all but cried for help. "You obviously don't see her as a friend. Not to mention you hurt her so many times - trying to have your cake and eat it too! That's such a cruel thing to do, Eddie! I've not raised you to act like that! So tell her how you feel. For real. And you better spend the rest of your time making it up to her!"

There's a time and a place and a reason And I know I got a love to believe in All I know Got to win this time

So that same night he showed up on your porch with his acoustic guitar, strumming out the tones to the song you had played just the other day. Not caring whether your parents heard him or even called the cops on him.

Without you, one night alone Is like a year without you, baby Do you have a heart of stone? Without you Can't stop the hurt inside When love and hate collide

You could have a change of heart If you would only change your mind 'Cause I'm crazy 'bout you, baby Crazy, crazy

You opened the door, meeting his gaze for the first time in days.

"I... I love you, sweetheart," Eddie whispered. "I'm so sorry. So sorry for how I behaved. Please... please give me a chance to make this right. I can't live without you."

You shook your head. "I'm so goddamn angry at you, Eddie Munson. But... I love you too I thought it would be easier, living without you. It's not! I miss you so much!"

Eddie smiled and ran up to her, wrapping his arms around her tightly, both of them crying.

"But I'm telling you now - I'll castrate you if you ever hurt me again!" Y/N whispered and Eddie chuckled.

"I'll hand you the knife, baby."

"Don't bother - I'll use a spoon."

Without you, one night alone Is like a year without you, baby Do you have a heart of stone? Without you, one night alone Is like a year without you, baby If you have a heart at all Without you I can't stop the hurt inside When love and hate collide

@eddiemunsonfuxks

(please, like, comment and reblog!

Your likes are wonderful, but reblogs expand my reading circle!)

[alaskan-wallflower]

I have never seen the outsiders musical but C Thomas Howell will forever be the perfect Ponyboy to me. He was such a cutie back then and really played the role so well. I also think Rob Lowe, Patrick Swayze, and Ralph Macchio were perfectly cast in terms of how I pictured them. Dallas is the one I go back and forth on. I love Matt Dillon and he’s a great actor but I felt like his Dally was too tortured-sadboy and not angry enough like how he is in the book. Plus he looks about the exact opposite of how I imagined book Dally, he’s too handsome. I always pictured Dally kinda scary looking.

yeah, i had a feeling that was a hot take lol-but idk. i just really enjoyed brody grant’s performance. he’ll always kinda remind me of ponyboy. i can agree that soda pop and darry will forever be patrick and rob but i dunno. i can 100% agree on dally though. nobody gets him right. in the book it said he had white-blonde hair, elvish features and ice blue eyes but in the movie he’s matt dillon. i was honestly never a fan of matt dillon, in the movie he was fine. not my favorite. like you said, he was kinda just not angry enough. ralph macchio is forever johnny. voice and everything. idk. it’s just ponyboy for me. i loved c thomas howell’s depiction of him, don’t get me wrong. i just prefer the musical version. i thought he was cute lmao dont judge me pls

i can’t say much on behalf of two bit and steve. they weren’t really in the movie or the musical enough for me to make any judgements.

[somewhere-on-knowhere]

More Random Starbula Headcanons

Nebula has a lot of trouble sleeping due to nightmares, and because nighttime is when her thoughts are the loudest. It gets a little easier once Peter starts spending the night with her, but it doesn't go away, of course. His presence is comforting though and it's nice to have someone there to keep her company and talk to when she can't sleep, because Peter sometimes has trouble sleeping, too.

Most of the time, Nebula is the little spoon, but when Peter's having a bad day, they switch. She likes that she can bring comfort to him, and Peter loves being snuggled.

After moving back to Earth, Peter got into baking. Sometimes he'll surprise Nebula by baking cupcakes or muffins for them to share when she comes to visit him.

Peter ends up checking out a lot of 80's movies that he missed out on when he was younger, and watches some of them with Nebula. One of those movies is Dirty Dancing, and Peter really wants to practice the classic lift that Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey do at the end with Nebs. Unfortunately, being made of a lot of metal, Nebula is too heavy for Peter to lift her over his head like that, but she's more than capable of lifting Peter, so she humors him and does the dance move with their roles reversed (it takes a few attempts and they knock over some furniture in the process).

Peter's grandparents love playing board games and like it when Peter and Nebula join in. At first Nebula is worried because she still gets crazy competetive and angry when she's losing (like Leslie in this one scene in Parks and Rec but even worse xD) but playing with Peter and his family helps her get over this problem for the most part. Nebula joining in with the Quill family fun times makes me so happy!

Nebula LOVES playing with Peter's hair!!

Around the anniversary of Gamora's death every year, Peter falls into a depression that lasts several weeks. Nebula makes sure she takes some time off to spend with him when this happens, since the grief hits her hard as well. They do their best to help and distract each other through the sadness and reminisce about good times with Gamora until they're feeling better.

Knowhere gets good signal (according to the Holiday Special), and so Peter and Nebula are able to FaceTime whenever they want (Peter gifts Nebula her own phone for this purpose). They typically chat every day after Nebula returns home in the evening, because on Earth that's around the time Peter goes to bed at night. Peter likes that he gets to see Nebula's face before he goes to sleep, and Nebula sees chatting with her boyfriend as her reward for a stressful day's work.

Peter takes a LOT of selfies and so Nebula receives a lot of pics of him throughout her day. She'll be working and her phone will go off and people ask her wtf she's looking at on that outdated looking little machine she's holding. And Nebs will look at a dumb picture Peter sent her of him posing with a cat he just met while on a jog or something and she'll just be like "...it's nothing," while trying not to smile.

[macfrog]

joel 🫱🏼‍🫲🏻 hozier

making me swoon when they say ‘baby’

no but joel in the latest clm chapter where reader says ‘i’m not ur fucking baby’ and joel immediately says baby again bc he’s all ‘yes. you are my baby. you have always been my baby. you will always be my baby. you are my only baby. !!you are my baby!!’ ugh hes so stupid and in love

little max heard patrick swayze call jennifer grey baby in dirty dancing and her life was changed forever. i was like. i am baby. 👉🏼🥺👈🏼

yeah this is for sure what i was going for. she’s hammered and she’s angry and she has most certainly launched herself to some pretty drastic — albeit understandable — conclusions, but he won’t let her think for even a second that she doesn’t still mean the world to him, even if the most he thinks he can do in that moment is just subtly correct her like that.

he’s always called her baby, always called her darlin', always seen her as someone he should love n protect and even though their relationship is pretty broken at this point, it doesn’t change the fact that he still sees himself as that protector. she’s still his girl. he still cares about her a LOT (!!) even if he can't exactly prove that to her there n then

[shallowseeker]

Shal, I hope you are feeling better! I wanted to add something to your Silvia-Amara meta if you don't mind me putting something into the mix as a long shot. Carmen from the djinn dream in What is and Should Never Be looks a lot like both of them. That seems like something!

Thank you. I'm feeling some better, but veeery sore and sleepless for the pain. (On the flipside, I can breathe better and already have more energy.)

This is so iiiiiiiinteresting, thank you!

I'll be honest...I had to go back to remind myself what Carmen even looked like. But yes! Carmen from the El Sol ad! Carmen the nurse! (I always thought she was a nod to one of Dean's psychosexual fixations, too; that is, films with hot men who dance like Swayze (Carmen 1983). I mean, hello Antonio Gades.

Plus, you know his thing for Spanish soap operas... ("Mi amor! Mi amor! Por favor despierta!" Poor Ricardo.)

And Dean's love for soaps from 7x03 The Girl Next-door. (Yes, the "My love, my love, please wake up!" one.)

//

Ahem. Anyway. Back to our Carmen. *points* Oh, my God. Yeah, it's El Sol, but it's also the specter of the beach. I am choking on my own spit here.

There's definitely something analogous in Sylvia (from season 15's Gimme Shelter) being an idealized something that Connor maybe thought he wanted, felt comfort going after, or tried to make himself want.

For that matter, I think there's something parallel here in how Amara views her love for Dean, too. Amara's view of Dean is idealized, draped in always-or-never statements, and impersonal. Meanwhile, the Dean of season 11 has grown immensely since the djinn dream in season 2. His conceptualization of love has become less romanticized:

DEAN: I can’t explain it, but to call it desire or love…it’s not that.

Carmen was an ideal, and Amara was perhaps the network's ideal, but Sylvia is actually not quite as one-to-one to either of them here. Sylvia was a real relationship with Connor, even if was perhaps a tragic childhood misstep for Connor while he was trying to figure himself out.

Of course, Carmen Porter's own words come back to haunt the Dean & Amara and Dean & Carmen relationships. Even our idealized romantic relationships falter, and they too become as baggage-ridden as our family, and our family is imperfect.

CARMEN: Well, you don't really spend a lot of time together. I mean, I just think you don't know each other all that well.

In early days, Dean's conceptualization of Carmen is adorably immature, like a teenager's dream: someone who accepts my eating habits n' idiosyncrasies, listens to me, and loves me. Someone who is "respectable" and stable. (In season 2, Dean is still, like Amara, dealing with the core wound of his nursery.)

Sylvia and Connor seemed to know each other quite well and were "a couple." He genuinely loved her, in his own way. Their connection just wasn't exactly what Sylvia thought it was, or wanted it to be. She became angry with Connor and called him a LIAR, and then she murdered him.

Dean has carried healthy relationships with dark-eyed beauties as well, like Lisa Braeden and "I-thought-we-had-a-connection" Risa from season 5's The End.

Hmmm. Okay, yes. I think your point is a good point. And it has branching points, too. There's a lot tangled up in here! Season 15's Sylvia Jones has some uncomfortable similarities to season 5's Risa, especially.

//

(REF: Here's the recent stuff about Sylvia and Amara-Silvia stuff and more Amara failing to recognize romantic love and Chuck setting Amara up for disappointment.)

[princessconsuela120]

Chapter Ten: That Funny Feeling

—✧

Series masterlist

Chapter Warnings: Pregnancy, grooming..? Kinda, big girl problems, mentions of sex, angst, cursing

Author’s note: this one kinda hurt me lowkey, but I love it😭. Only a little bit longer of season one, guys the baby’s almost here I hope you’re excited. Don’t forget to vote comment and repost! Eat up!!

Chapter art by @clownfacepancakes120 & @silvell

—✧

I HONESTLY COULDN'T BEGIN TO EXPLAIN HOW QUICKLY I STORMED UP TO KYLE AT HIS LOCKER THE NEXT DAY IN SCHOOL. I couldn’t entirely tell how angry I was, or why, maybe it was because of my pregnancy hormones. They always seemed to be through the roof whenever I was around Kyle. It was almost like ever since Kenny told me he was still going to prom, going without me, and to make matters worse with Rebecca Cotswolds, I couldn’t seem to wrap my head around anything else.

“Are you honestly and truly going to prom with Rebecca Cotswolds?” I asked angrily, slamming his locker shut. He looked at me with wide eyes, gulping in fear when his eyes met mine.

“Hi.” He said shortly, trying to smile but his anxious nerves took over.

“Kenny just said...That you were gonna go with her.” I continued, feeling my chest compress with anger.

“Yeah. I did ask her if she wanted to go. A bunch of us are gonna go to Casa Bonita and then prom… And then go to Cartman’s cousin’s cabin. So… We're getting a stretch limo.”

I pressed my lips together, nodding my head, trying to hide the rage that my face was trying to force out.

“You must be pretty stoked that you're not taking me.” I said, tilting my head slightly as Kyle sighed.

“You're mad. Why are you mad?” He asked, his breathing become even more unsteady.

“I'm not mad. I'm in a great mood.” I shrugged, letting out a loud fake laugh as I continued. “Despite the fact that I'm in a fat suit I can't take off. And despite the fact that everyone's making fun of me behind my back. And despite the fact that I almost lost my brother because of this. And despite the fact that your girlfriend gave me the stink eye in art class.” I grumbled, making Kyle sigh once again.

“Rebecca’s not my girlfriend. And I doubt she gave you the stink eye. That's just the way her face looks, you know? That's just her face.” He stuttered, looking up at the celling to avoid my eye contact.

“Yeah. You just take Soupy Sales to prom. I can think of so many cooler things to do. Like I might pumice my feet. I might go to Big Gay Al’s and you know, pet his cats. Maybe get hit by a truck full of hot garbage juice. Because all those things would be way cooler than going to prom with you.” I continued to shout, now this time Kyle scoffed.

“You're being really immature. You have no reason to be mad at me. I mean, you broke my heart. I should be royally ticked off at you. I should be really cheesed off. I shouldn't wanna talk to you anymore.”

“Why? Because I got bored and had sex with you and I didn't wanna marry you?” I said angrily, making him roll his eyes.

“Like I'd marry you. You'd be the meanest wife ever.” I rolled my eyes at him, and he just looked away to continue talking. “And I know you weren't bored. Because there was a lot of stuff on TV. And They were streaming dirty dancing on Hulu and you love dirty dancing. And you were like, “oh I love this movie, Patrick Swayze is my husband. But, oh, no, we should just make out instead."”

He looked away again, but I didn’t. I stared straight at him, carving daggers into his skin with my eyes. I hated it, all of it. I think the baby hated it too, cause I don’t think I’ve ever felt it kick so hard. ‘Stop, stop arguing, you know you love him.’ It’s almost like that angry fetus churning inside of me knew that too. But I couldn’t stop.

“All right, you just take Rebecca the douche packer to prom. I'm sure you two will have, like, a real bitchen time.” I said, throwing up gang signs to make fun of her.

“Well, I still have your underwear.” He teased, making me roll my eyes as I glared back at him.

“I still have your virginity.”

“God, would you shut up?” He grumbled, rolling his eyes. He sighed, as if he was bracing himself. For a second I could tell he hated this just as much as I did. “I don’t understand the big deal. I mean, Jo you won’t even let me tell my parents. I get it, you’re giving the baby up, you don’t want anything to do with me, but it’s like I don’t even exist to you anymore.”

That one stung. Now I have known Kyle since preschool. I mean, we played in the same sand box at the playground. I couldn’t get my sand castle right, so he decided to come help me. That was of course until Cartman came and stepped on our entire masterpiece, and Kyle hugged me when I cried. We were 4, I barely even remember anything else from that age. And then there was 4th grade, where our entire lives seemed to begin. There was our first kiss on the playground, getting married in his backyard, saving his ass while trying to defeat professor chaos. There was everything, he was everything. And then there was the science trip. I had gained confidence from the bottle of Landshark that I snuck into our room, and we had to share a bed. Not that I didn’t want to, I did. I don’t know why I let things escalate from there. Why I didn’t just assume everything would be fine, nothing would come from it. We were just gonna make out, and I could get over my stupid crush. It would be so simple. And then we had sex, and now I’m in even more love with his stupid curly ginger hair.

“Are you ashamed that we did it?” I asked angrily, sass clinging onto my tone as he shook his head sadly, looking back up at me.

“No.”

“Because at least you don't have to have the evidence under your sweater. I'm a planet.” I shouted, creating a new silence between us. It was like he forgot he was supposed to be angry for a second.

“Let me get your bag. You shouldn't carry that.” He said, reaching for my backpack as a shoved him away.

“What's another 10 pounds?” I hissed lowly, before quickly walking in the other direction, once again leaving Kyle dumbfounded and sad at his locker.

—✧

“Hi. Wow, that shirt's working hard.” Mark said, looking down at my now very large bump that was beneath my signature Garfield shirt. I was only about 6 or 7 month along now, but for some reason this baby was huge. It’s kind of funny actually, when I talked to Sheila about it she unknowingly admitted to me that Kyle was also a huge baby, not aware that he most likely was the reason this child was huge. I swear I could’ve been having twins or something.

“Is Vanessa here?” I asked, walking in and looking around, hoping to blow off some steam and watch a horror or something. Away from my family, away from Kyle, away from everything.

“No. We are safe.”

“Sweet.” I said, slinging my back off my shoulder and tossing it on the couch, laying back as I let out a sigh of relief.

“I'm glad you're here. I actually have something for you. Come here.” Mark guided me to a side room, full of comics and guitar stuff. It was an interesting space I couldn’t help but look around with wonder.

“Whoa, Mark, is this the baby's room? It's beautiful.” I teased, making him roll his eyes as I chuckled lightly.

“Oh, that's hilarious. No, this is where I keep all my old comics… And I wanna show you one.”

“You're one of those guys?” I teased, laying out on the couch as soon as I got in. It’s safe to say my ankles were taking majority of the heat during this pregnancy. “You know my 17 year old brother doesn’t even read comics anymore.”

“Come here. Take a look.” Mark said, choosing to ignore my sarcastic remarks.

“Is this a pregnant superhero?” I asked excitedly, looking down at the anime comic book I was handed.

“I found it in Japan when I was there with my band. It reminds me of you.” He said, smiling softly. I nodded with a wide smile on my face as I flipped through the comic.

“Hells, yeah. This actually makes me feel way less of a fat dork.” I explained, earning another smile from Mark.

“Well, Yuki is a real badass. You should be proud to be in the same condition.”

“Thank you.” I said, smiling back at him. “How about some tunage?” I requested, earning a raised eyebrow from Mark.

“Tunage. Okay, yeah.” He said, going to go and play music from his record player. “All right, don't look, numéro trois.”

“I'm not looking.” I said, covering my eyes as he put the record on the player.

“This one is actually kind of slow, but it's Mott the Hoople… So it's still totally rad and hardcore.”

“I know this one.” I said, swaying slightly side to side. Mark seemed to perk up at that.

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

“This song is older than I am, if you can believe it. I danced to this at my prom.” Mark explained, making me laugh slightly at the thought of mark at prom.

“Who'd you dance with?”

“Cynthia Vogel. Great dance partner. She let me put my hands all over her butt.”

“Hot.” It was strange, I was used to giving this sort of response to Kenny, not Mark. But it was great, I mean it was like he was a buddy.

“Very hot.”

“I can just totally picture you dancing like a total dork.” I teased, getting up as he put his arms on my shoulder and we began slow dancing.

“Actually, she put her hands… There, and I put my hands down here.” He explained. Moving my hands to his shoulders and his hands down to my hips. “This is how we did it in '88. Just like this. Have you ever been to a dance before?”

“Dances are for nerds and squares.” I teased, making him raise an eyebrow at me again.

“What are you?”

“I don't know.” I shrugged, making him smile softly, resting his head against mine.

“Does it feel like there's something between us?” He says as a joke, referring to my large baby bump that refused to let me any closer. I laughed slightly, though my laugh was short lived when he began speaking again.

“I'm leaving Vanessa.”

I froze. I swear, my entire body locked itself and wouldn’t let me make any move. That is of course, besides shoving Mark away, and staring at him with that same frozen brokenness that was left on my face.

“What?” I asked, my voice breaking as I spoke. I could feel my hands begin to sweet, that funny feeling beginning to fill up my entire being.

“I'm getting a place in the city. Got it planned. Something I've wanted to do for a long time.” Mark explained, and I shove my head.

“No.” I snapped, causing Mark to raise an eyebrow at me.

“No?” He asked, looking slightly taken aback by my response.

“No, you definitely can't do that. That's one big fat sack of no.” I continued to yell, and Mark just stood there staring at me, confused by my outburst. “I mean, you guys are supposed to take care of this, you know?” I said, holding my baby bump protectively.

“I thought you'd be cool with this.” He said, looking me up and down.

“Cool? I want things to be perfect. I don't want them to be shitty and broken like my family.” I continued to yell, making him shake his head angrily.

“Come on…”

“Look, I'll have the baby… And Vanessa's gonna be so happy. You just…” I explained getting up and grabbing my things, making Mark try to stop me by standing in front of me.

“A baby won't fix everything. I don't know if I'm ready to be a father.”

I scoffed.

“But you're old.” I snapped back at him, and he went quiet for a second. He looked down at the ground, then back up at me.

“How do you think of me? You know, why are you over here?” He asked, making me stop a minute. I think it was then that I realized what my dad had meant not too long ago. That people weren’t just friendly, they didn’t have to be friendly. There’s always a motive.

“I just like being a piece of furniture in your weird life.” I explained, and Mark sighed, gesturing to the guitar and comic book mess that was in front of me.

“This? This is what my life has become. You know, I got stuff in boxes. You know, I'm underground.” He explained, making me sigh, rubbing a hand across my face.

“Is this my fault?” I asked, feeling tears begin to prick at my eyes.

“No.”

“Is Vanessa mad at you because of me or something?”

“It's got nothing to do with it. We aren't in love.”

“You were in love when you married her. If you're in love once, you can be in love again.” I explained, waving my hands around, wiping the few stray tears that left my eyes. LLike my brother, he’s been with the same girl like four times, they’re back together again now. You're just not trying hard enough.”

“I can't believe what an idiot I am.” He mumbled, shaking his head as he looked down. I scoffed.

“No, you know what, Mark? Just do not divorce your wife. Will you please just do me a solid and stay with Vanessa?” I asked, causing him to look up at me.

“You're so young.” He said softly, his smile faltering as he did.

“I'm not that young. Okay, I'm 16. I'm old enough to know when someone's acting like a total a-hole. Oh, and you know what? I bought another Sonic Youth album that you recommend and it sucks. It's just noise.” I grumbled, before turning to leave out the door, leaving Mark sitting in his own misery. Just as I was about to leave, Vanessa came in the door.

“Juno? What's going on?” She asked, her eyes filling with worry once seeing my expression.

“Nothing.” I replied quickly, trying to walk past her.

“Why are you crying?” She asked, stopping me again.

“I'm not crying. I'm just allergic to fine home furnishings.”

“Hold on. What's the matter? What's the matter?”

“She's just a little hormonal. Right, Juno? It's part of the process?” Mark said, his voice sounding so foreign to me now. I couldn’t help but glare over at him, Vanessa’s eyes following mine.

“What did you do?”

“I didn't do anything.” Mark replied coldly. “Just...I've been thinking.”

“What?”

“You know, I'm just thinking if this is the right thing.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just wondering if it's… just wondering if we're ready.” He continued to talk about his uncertainty, sending painful goosebumps to erupt against my skin.

“Yeah, we're ready. We've read the books, we've taken the classes, we have a nursery that is…”

“Vanessa, I know we're prepared. I'm just wondering if...I'm ready.”

I tried again to walk out, but Vanessa stopped me again, fear showing all over her face.

“Wait a minute. Juno, don't listen to him. He's just got cold feet. He's just being a guy. The books all say a woman becomes a mother when she gets pregnant. A man becomes a father when he sees his baby. He's gonna get there. He's... he's gonna get there.” She explained, but mark simply kept his act up.

“It happened so fast. We put the ad in the paper… And I thought it would take months, if at all… Then two weeks later, she's on that couch.”

“She answered our prayers.” Vanessa corrected, glaring coldly at her husband.

“Ever since then, it's been like a ticking clock.”

“What are you saying?”

“That it feels a little like bad timing.”

And with that last line from Mark, I was gone. I quickly ran to my car so no one could stop me, getting in and driving. I knew I had to pull over somewhere, I was crying so much I couldn’t even see the road. It didn’t seem to matter to me at that moment. Not seeing just felt refreshing.

—✧

I JUST KEPT DRIVING. I didn’t know where, or how far, I just knew I needed to get away. Something in my instincts brought me here, to the barn. It was pouring rain, and the ground below my feet drowning in rain water, my shoes sinking into the mud as I walked. It seemed my face was soaking wet, whether it be from tears or the rain I wasn’t sure. I just knew I need to be somewhere that isn't on the road.

I pounded hard on the barn door, knowing my brother must have been inside, but he just groaned loudly from the inside.

“Go away Juno.” He yelled to the door. I could hear him strum his guitar behind the door, but I continued to pound on the doors.

“I said go away! My creative juices are flowing.” Stan yelled back, and I rolled my eyes, slamming my arms down harder.

“I don’t care about your juices.” I yelled back, my voice breaking when I did. I could hear shuffling from the other side.

“Are you crying?” He asked, his entire voice changing from his joking tone to normal. And then he opened the door, and in that exact moment when I saw him, I broke down into his arms. His heartbeat picked up speed and he pulled me close to his chest, not knowing the source of my distress.

“Hey, hey hey hey. You’re alright, big brothers got you. You’re okay.” He reassured, running his hands through my hair to comfort me, sighing as he held me tighter.

“It’s so much.” My voice broke again, and he squeezed his eyes shut to keep himself from getting emotional at my expense.

“It’s okay Juno, take some deep breaths okay, what do you need from me, what do you need me to do to make it better?” He asked, pulling away with his hands on my shoulders, looking me up and down to check for any injuries.

“Just-just hold me, please.” My voice came out small and squeaky, and he quickly pulled me back into his embrace.

“That I can do.” He sighed, running his fingers through my wet hair. “I can always do that.”

—✧

[dump-troy-marry-me]

my favourite episode of Community that is absolutely canon and not made up even though it never happened at all is the one where Abed and Troy watch Dirty Dancing and Abed notices how Troy's eyes almost never leave Patrick Swayze's arms and chest any time he's on screen, so he asks if Troy might be gay. and Troy gets angry and defensive and storms out. and he ends up in a bar with Britta and she is surprised to see him there but Troy's not sure why; he comes here all the time because it feels nice and safe for reasons he can't or won't put his finger on. and he asks if she thinks he might be gay and she takes a long second to stare at the little rainbow flag on one of the walls of the bar before telling him that she can't really answer that for him, but if she had to guess, as someone who lived in New York, yeah, there's a strong possibility.

[indianamoonshine]

strawberry | EXTRAS | checkers

summary: remember the chapter in strawberry where they go to the bar? remember how i said there was a second part but i never posted it? i decided to ax it, but i’m posting it now! here’s a gift to tide you over for the next chapter!

rating: m

You’re a very competitive person. It’s ironic because you’ve played one sport (volleyball in middle school) and then quit upon finding it was too much work. As a child you dreamt of becoming a NASCAR driver (you hate watching it and no one in your family ever did) and even a lawyer (you cry whenever you argue but you relish on being right).

You love to win. And even worse: you’re a sore loser.

“Dammit!” you whine, watching as Din leans over to collect your checker. “How are you so good at this?!”

Din smirks proudly to himself. “I’m really good at guessing someone’s next move.”

The way he says it makes you believe it’s some sort of inside joke you weren’t apart of. You grimace, crossing your arms against your chest, and wrinkle your nose. Your mother always used to say you look like an angry bunny but it was a habit you’ve never been able to break. Din stares at the board, eyes scanning every possible square. You suppose you should pay closer attention too even though it probably wouldn’t make any difference.

“I’m blaming it on the alcohol,” you say, content with the excuse. It was a good one, after all.

You glance out the windows into the night. It was raining fairly hard but the wind was still, despite the steady thunder. It’s been an hour since the two of you got back and it hasn’t let up a drop.

Din’s loaned you one of his t-shirts and a pair of boxers to sleep in. When he handed you the folded clothes he flushed and then mumbled, “I’ll be in the living room...” before sauntering off. Had it been anyone else’s affection you were vying for you might’ve been offended. But you suspect his embarrassment was caught up in his own actions from earlier.

You clear your throat. “Okay, next question...” you pause. “Uh...”

“What’s your favorite movie?” Din wonders, eyes never leaving the board. He reaches over to move one of his pieces and then plops back into his seat, meeting your gaze. He looks sober now, his expression neutral and pupils clearly attentive of his surroundings.

You hum in contemplation, fingering the roughened edges of the checker pieces. The set is an antique - just something you found to pass the time in one of the chests around the cabin.

“Dirty Dancing.” You hop one of your pieces over his and smile in victory.

Din slowly raises a pair of bronzed eyes your way but he grins as though he’s pleased. “Is that to blame for your attraction to older men?”

You let out a fabricated gasp while placing a hand on your chest. “And what’s so wrong with that? Patrick Swayze is a very handsome man.”

Your competitor shrugs in agreement. “I won’t argue. He was older than her though, right?” He considers this for a moment. “I haven’t seen it in a while.”

Amazing. “I can’t believe you’ve seen it,” you chuckle in disbelief. You capture another one of his checkers. He hisses under his breath. “It’s sexy.”

Din makes a noise under his breath, though he’s now concentrating even harder than what he was before. “What is? The movie?”

“No,” you reply, watching as his deft fingers slide his piece closer to capturing another of yours. You have half a mind to give up at this point; he’s about to win anyway. “Well, yeah, but I meant that you’ve seen it. It’s a chick-flick. Most straight men haven’t. Toxic masculinity and all that.”

Your voice trails off, but Din catches it and clamps down. “How do you know my ex-girlfriend didn’t force me to watch it?”

There’s an “oh” stuck in your throat, but it chokes just before it can escape. You can only pause, your fingers hovering over your piece.

“Did you...see it with her...?” you tread, feeling very awkward.

Din watches you blankly for a moment but his eyes are jocose in nature. Then he sputters out a bit of laughter, shaking his head. “No. My best friend liked it though.”

Best friend. Din had a best friend? Not to say that Din wasn’t agreeable (obviously, as you were doing something so dull as playing checkers with him) but he didn’t seem the kind of person to form attachments. His relationship with you felt foreign enough. But a best friend? That took another degree of intimacy entirely.

“Oh?” you respond, titillated by the idea of getting to know him more. “You never told me you had a best friend.”

Din squares his jaw, an ashen expression falling upon his face and you instantly regret asking. While you haven’t known him for long, it’s the most sick you’ve seen him look.

“I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.” You wave a hand, bringing your arms back to your chest as a nervous habit.

But he just blinks once or twice, starting slowly but starting nonetheless. “Cara. She passed away a few years ago.”

•

He won, of course.

He’s never lost a game of checkers in his life. Not even before he joined the Creed and Guild. He’s been a natural in the field of strategy for as long as he can remember so it wasn’t a surprise when he captured your last checker. You’d grumbled - and he found it endearing - but then climbed into his lap like it never even happened. All is forgiven.

The two of you talk for around five minutes before he watches you yawn, pretty mouth forming into an “oh”. He knew then that the two of you were finally sober enough to sleep. He kisses your forehead while you drag him into his bedroom.

He tries to ignore Cara. He hasn’t thought about her ever since her death - ever since she was killed in a crossfire he’d started. He’d blamed himself ever since, tossing and turning in his sleep until he went without it for over forty eight hours and then literally fell over with fatigue. And it wasn’t that he wishes you wouldn’t ask him questions, he just...

Well, Din wishes he would’ve just kept his damn mouth shut. The less you knew of the things he’d done or the people he’d met during his past, the better. You were safe in your ignorance even if it shredded him to pieces every day.

You crawl into bed with him, your thighs as soft as the silk you’d worn earlier (and now hangs over the bath tub to dry). When the lights have been turned off he presses you close to his chest, your right ear leaning against the brick surrounding his thumping heart. Din rests his chin at the top of your head, closes his eyes, and inhales the scent of his shampoo in your hair. It suits you better.

Because of course it does, even if it’s masculine it still somehow smells just like you.

He whispers your name and presses a small kiss against your temple. “I really like you, too.”

[sunwarmed-ash]

Fucking Friday/Fic Fridays

Empathetic Asshole

Ship: Harringrove (BillyxSteve)

Rating/Word Count: Explicit, 16k+, WIP

Tags: Alternate Universe-Body Swap, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Closeted Gay Billy Hargrove, Enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, empathy as a superpower, mental illness, recreational drug use, Gay men and their obsession with Swayze, Ignore everything you think you know about the timeline, double dydoe piercing, Scars, Dialogue Heavy, First Kiss, Character Development, Billy Hargrove Redemption, Billy Hargrove is Soft for Steve Harrington

Summary:

When Steve met his own reflection in the mirror, his hand flew out for purchase, reaching for anything that would keep him from collapsing once more on the floor. Answers came flying at him faster than he could process. Things started making sense while simultaneously not at all. That man wasn’t his father, because this wasn’t his house. The honey-brown eyes he was expecting to see in his reflection were replaced with a haunted, empty blue because this wasn’t his body. And Max, was more than likely the girl he had met all those weeks ago. Billy Hargrove’s sister. Which meant, that Demogorgon in a person-suit must have been Billy’s father. 

A different, equally painful realization that he wasn't sure if he was ready to face yet began to brew in his gut and the fumes from it raised in an attempt to suffocate his lungs, and squeeze his heart until every capillary burst. 

“BILLY!!” The angry man bellowed and Steve sprung into action, thankful for the adrenaline-fueled numbness as he reached for the first piece of clothing he could find and raced into the hall. 

The house was all on one level which made it quick and easy to find the front door. Max was standing there impatiently, holding her board tightly against her body. Steve hurried himself and her through the front door without another word.

[fuckselfloveihatemyself]

I am mentally screaming constantly since last night. I've been on a binge recently to watch as many old queer movies as I can to discover more of my history. Some of it is bad, with outdated terms and ridiculously homophobic stereotypes, but some of it is so phenomenal and it's insane I haven't heard of it before.

To start I was telling my partner this on date night, and they're older than me, so they went on to talk about The Birdcage as a magnificent one, and I explained how I read up on To Wong Foo Thank You For Everything, Julia Newman and wanted to see it.

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!!

So last night we started with The Birdcage, which has Robin Williams, Armand, as one of the main love interests in a gay marriage with his husband/wife, Albert, who is a drag queen and goes mostly by she/her pronouns. It was very lighthearted and hilarious! I was pleasantly surprised and shocked, I couldn't stop laughing at some parts, and getting angry at other parts. As the plot is the gay couples son, Val, is getting married to his college sweetheart who comes from a conservative family. So they're trying to hide the fact that Val was raised by two queer men who own a drag club together. The majority of it is funny as the conservatives are made the buttend of the joke, and it has an amazing happy ending. I absolutely loved how Robin Williams played Armand as it wasn't offensive at all, just a very dedicated family man who loves his partner and child. Albert, Armand's wife/husband was so amazing, and I read up on the actor who at the time wasn't out but came out later in life and how Robin Williams helped him feel comfortable when it came to the part and ensuring he wasn't forced out of closet. The acting is so good as Albert definitely has mother hen instincts and clearly wants what's best for their son and Val acknowledges that that's his mom and dad. There is a scene where Albert is trying to act "straight" and it clearly goes all wrong, one scene comedic, but there's a second one where they're wearing a suite and you can see how much they're holding themselves back and trying so hard for their son and it honestly made me cry. There is a few scenes where you meet the sons bio mother, Katherine, but it's made abundantly clear that she does not really have any parental instincts and had no desire to raise her son, what I did love was how this wasn't framed in a negative light. It's clear the bio mother, Katherine, and Armand had a one night stand, accidently conceived, and Armand decided to raise his boy with his loving partner Albert. Towards the end of the movie there is a love confession from Robins character, Armand, that is so real to life and loving I had tears running down my eyes by the end of it. Honestly the movie is so feel good I could go back and watch it twenty times.

To Wong Foo Thank You For Everything, Julia Newman. Was also an amazing movie. It stars Patrick Swayze and Wesley Snipes who both play seasoned drag queens, but they also mostly identify as ladies, as throughout the film you only see them in drag, except for the beginning scene with Payrick Swayze coming out of the shower, and going solely by she/her pronouns. So I think with the time period it was made in they were considered drag queens, but had it been made today it would have been worded moreso as trans women who are also drag queens. As Vida, Patrick's character, only answers to her women name and pronouns, as does Noxeema, Wesley's character. It has guest star appearances from Robin Williams and Ru Paul. This movie, forewarning, has racists slurs, outdated queer terms, and homophobia. As the three drag queens break down in a small town in the country where people like them are not at all accepted. Despite all that though I still think it's definitely worth the watch, as it has a happy ending and an acknowledging by the town that they know that they're not typical ladies, but that they still think they're beautiful and amazing people.

I'll probably leave my thoughts on a few other films I've seen recently or before that I also loved or didn't. As I want to talk about But I'm a Cheerleader, and The Gay Decievers, but I'm still processing that one.

[the-firebird69]

Can you like five more people but really you said if 10 houses fell that would leave eight houses and that's right.

And the houses are falling here and the head guys are dying their areas are falling and people are killing them until they die some people that died today were announced that they died yesterday no

There are some people that worked with Scott go Bay and they were also killed one of them was Jason Fitzpatrick who said he had died and he expected more fanfare but what do you want for torturing someone he said and he went out to the battle and said we need more people here we're weak and our son said damn straight your week and having a week for years and it was that's terrific so the smile on his face he went into battle but the vehicle they were in was hit and exploded from The Middle side and outwards and blue everything in it to complete dust because what they were carrying is a bomb and it was about one foot wide now it's 3 ft wide it was all plastic and it blew them up so badly they price the vehicle are found four miles away in each direction and they were out at the second ring and it made it almost to the outskirts and people heard it asked what it was they heard our son say Jason Fitzpatrick good going and they got sad and said it's not our fault to the wall what is the Divine Providence block Patrick swayze they got mad and said we're screwing each other is terrible we're not doing it right and it's terrible and it's starting to think about it

There's other things happening it's just random stuff but he was saying he is angry cuz you people are fighting each other and you're stupid and it's a pain in the ass but there were others who died I think we're up to five they knew a few more not that many one of Garth people he's been in the news and the TV lately it's not Martin it's one of his brothers and people used to know him he used to be in all these bands on TV and it became obscure again and he was recently seen shouting on TV and he's messing with her son and he died a horrible death the truck was moving at about 800 miles per hour for real towards the first ring from the third they got to the second they're in the middle of it and it hit a landmine and blue in half and he was in the back half and could see it coming and once it was blown in half it started to turn and he said oh no we're done and you looked at them and he said he loved them and they rolled and he was gone

There are two more one of them my son knew a little bit more it was Scott Johansson and he's having him say his name a whole bunch as you sitting there trying to help and he couldn't tell who he was he was from Wentworth and he was from St John's two different characters and he was not a great help but he was doing things and he thought it was great and it was regular work and other people start doing it in St John's he was a small guy he looked like David Curran is one of his buddies they got along okay but he was in a truck and he fell out no he jumped out cuz the truck was going to hit something and it was and he hit a tree and died it's going so fast and it almost anywhere you jump out you're going to hit a tree and the truck was going through the woods they tried to get out through the top and they wouldn't let him so he jumps out the side and he's still hit a tree and the truck ran right into a big tree that's what happens they say and it's true

The final person was someone who knew from homeroom and it was not Dave amson is Kevin Adams and he's surprised he was quieter he was smarter he would sit back and think about things and he came up with actual questions like what time are we doing this and what was this in class and practically nobody else was rooted in reality and he was because what they're doing their mattered and he appreciated the fact that Bob and junko was helping him that Bob Angelico was helping him but he was doing it on his own too and told Bob too a few times he's always saying I have a question and he's asking him and he wouldn't tell him so he asked our son and the guys were not joking around they said we don't help people like you and they weren't helping our son that much and he was learning on his own and I kind of wanted him to and didn't want him to do what he was doing but when he's asking he's having to review it and it worked she's part of a team effort so they had this routine and some kind of picked up on it a little bit doing it cuz it was a fun game and it is a learning game and if you can get him into it it's one of the best games to play and challenges you and you get used to being challenged you get used to responding with confidence because you know it and you checked it and it works and he was a hero to a lot of people for that and he was laid to rest today in the ceremony and he passed away around 3:30 a.m. last night and he was not made fun of. And they said that he would be appreciated and he is and by our son too. He was driving the truck it's copilot they were trying to escape from second to the first ring we're halfway through the first ring and they hit a landmine and exploded in the whole truck was disintegrated now these people are gone and parts of their bodies are found and people are sad today and it's a big loss

Having eight households with regents is not good and these idiots are planning on flying over the neighborhood low fast and mean afternoon today and they are going to be fighting their own generals who will try and force them to stop and what are they fighting them with and finding them here by hand and there's only a few of them and the generals are taking over the police they're finding them elsewhere with robots and they're using the robots up and it's sure idiocy it's kind of well past that they're all insane and we need to get help in here and I'm calling for it again we need more people

Thor Freya

I'm getting as many people in here as we can. I'm calling up and requesting permission and I'm getting it and I'm sending as many as we can and that will force others it's a good system and we need to put it on a tickler my wife is going to handle it and we are going ahead with it there's not enough and we will come in but I will say this He's a brave person he's getting a little baloney because there aren't enough things here for him and it's the services are terrible and the money and it's just worse than it was before I can see what he's saying I need to have a future too and we need to see that he does and we need a lot of help and so we're going to go in first and he says he's been out on point for a long time and it feels scary and it feels like you're alone but you're not God is with you and shall help you in doing your job and your daily activities where You are and that if you act they act and it's a weird thing he says because I'm so young that I didn't know it but we know it a little better and we understand what he's saying and other people need help and by doing stuff we're going to bring in armies of different races of ours and we're going to go ahead and do this now and set it up so we do it more often

It says it too if you're here like me or here like you there's not much difference and that'll make us feel better

Savage opress

We've been doing it all our lives and we can help you out more but what he said is true and very helpful to us at this time too

Frank Castle hardcastle

It's not that they don't know what they're doing and it's that they trust that we do now we have to do the right thing and we have to start and this project with Pluto needs to jump start and we're getting with zigzag now and he says his sons and daughters and daughter-in-law and sons-in-law have grabbed a lot of stuff and gotten a lot of things and they marry who they like but mostly their own race but we have a lot of stuff that's ready and people should take a look we do have a need for more things and we're going to get a list and we have things to do and we're going to assign things to people we're doing it today in the meeting and I'm putting it down

Duke nukem Blockbuster

I'm helping him and we're getting those assignments ready and we will help zig zag and we will sign it to big huge teams different races and they need to get involved 100% and this is Thor Freya project as well and zigzag says this is their puppy so they're going to have to hit up the meeting but we're going to get ready beforehand and he thinks this

Frank Castle hardcastle

Let's hope the bite is as good as the bark and we're going to get in there and figure out what we need and I realize people are assembling to do the job and I do have a list of things and a list of teams to assigned to and you bring yours and we're going to see if they match up but I do see what you're saying you're going to come prepared with stuff and come prepared with a plan and we're going to talk about it and get it hashed out and will combine teams our son and daughter say we need more people than you think and we're going to do that

Thor Freya

Now I see how this is we need a lot of people for this this is going to be huge he says this is going to be the one of the biggest things we've ever done and we get that

Frank Castle hardcastle

I'm going to the meeting to express how important it is most people don't understand it our father and mother do and I'm going to tell everybody what the importance is and why

Zig Zag

This is a stepping stone that you can't miss it locates where the cloaked building is without going up it you don't go to the cloaked building

Zues Hera

They put it together together and it is real and it is what it is it's what it says

Zigzag

We're getting going and we understand it and we're going to pass this around

Olympus

[yesireadbooks]

Horror Story...

Ok so I've been part of an August Writing Challenge and I wrote smth really messed up today, and thought of sharing it with y'all.

It is horror and gory and bloody. So, trigger warning for blood, violence, gore, suicide.

If this was a movie, this would most likely be R-rated, so be careful...

Summer at Lake Swayze

This trip was never supposed to happen. Benjamin was supposed to fly to England for the summer with Liam, but he cancelled that. Then he got a summer job offer at the local pub, which he rejected, and when his crazy friends invited him to go on a fishing trip, he actually agreed. He rejected two chances to live, and he threw them away.

But there is nothing to do about that now. Benjamin and his three other friends, Jacob, Andrew, and Billy, were already at Lake Swayze, and their boat was floating along the lake. 

“Wait guys, aren’t we at the lake yet?” Billy asked.

“We are,” said Andrew.

“Then, why are we going on a channel?” This was an honest question.

“Lemme explain,” Jacob took over, well knowing Andrew could not answer this without a snide comment, “The lake has a weird shape. That is why it seems like a river, but actually we are in the lake.”

Usually, Benjamin would have joined the conversation by now, but he was silent today.

“Ben?” Andrew asked, “You’re silent today.”

No response. His eyes are set straight into the woods, and in his hand, he is holding his empty drink cup. He was holding it so tight that his hand was slightly shaking.

Suddenly, “Let’s play some music,” Ben said, as if suddenly awakened from a trance.

Except this wasn’t just a ‘trance’. He was speaking with death- no something worse than death. Something that would take him whole and reduce him to non-existence. Something that could make the world not know he was gone. 

Suddenly, the radio stopped working, and the boat began to slow down.

“What the-” Andrew said in his usual angry tone.

“Wait, wait, lemme try and steer this to the lakeside,” Jacob said while rushing in to the cabin. Soon, they stopped at the lake-side. It was gloomy and had a haunting atmosphere. The static of the radio amplified the horror mood. 

“Creepy,” Billy said.

“Yeah, Sherlock,” said Andrew.

“Ok, ok, guys, let’s just try and keep the killing each other part till we are starving,” Jacob said, trying to lighten the mood.

“You won’t survive that long,” Ben said in a sombre tone.

“Dude, what’s wrong with you today?” Andrew said.

No response. Ben was again looking straight into the woods with no expression in his face. Low rumbles of thunder threatened an imminent rainstorm. 

“Nah, nah, I ain’t getting soaked.” Billy said, running back into the boat.

“I need to take a leak,” Ben said, walking towards the woods.

“Dude… We have a restroom inside,” Andrew said.

Ben still walked.

Ben walked and walked. He walked until he lost track of where he was. He was suddenly more aware of what was happening.

“Where am I?” He asked himself. And then he saw it: A brief vision of a dysmorphed shadow. It looked human, but he was certain it wasn’t. He felt something breathe down his neck, but he couldn’t turn around. That was the last non-painful thing Ben was going to feel. 

Slowly, there was something emerging from the corner of his eye and in front of him. It has horns like an antler but a face shaped like an ant. Its body looked human but demonically slender. Benjamin knew that either he drank too much or he was living his last moments. 

The bright orange eyes seemed as if they were glowing compared to its tree bark coloured skin. They were fixed directly on Ben, they looked up and down, scanning him whole. Suddenly, there was a scream. Billy. Benjamin wanted to run, but he couldn’t. The creature didn’t seem too fazed, as if it knew why there was a scream. 

It extended its slender hands and brushed its pale fingers across Benjamin’s cheek. It seemed and felt very, maternal. But then sharp fingernails emerged from the tips of its fingers, a set so sharp that it left four light lines of scarlet across Benjamin’s cheek. He was in a trance again.

Then, while looking at him straight in the eyes, it slashed Benjamin’s skin open, first his face, then his hands, legs, and finally his body. Suffocating skin hung on Ben, slick with blood, as he was awakening from his trance. He felt excruciating pain as he finally understood that his skin was hanging from his muscles. Then slowly, yet again with motherly calmness, it began to rip the skin off Ben. He yelled from within, but only a muffle came out. He was in extreme pain, but only two streaks of tears left his eyes. 

Then, still standing still, Benjamin, or what was his blood, meat, and bones, stared in horror as the thing wore his skin like a dress. A skin crawler. Then it extended its arms, as if to see if the skin suits it well, and then looked at Benjamin. Its eyes were no longer orange; they bore the same shade as Ben’s eyes, and the only evidence that betrayed the demon’s disguise was the eerie smile it wore for Benjamin. 

It came close, put its hands on Ben’s face, cupped them in adoration of a lover, twisted his neck 50 degrees to the left and 48 degrees upwards, and ripped it off with the ease of breaking bread. It looked at Ben’s head while his lifeless body fell to the ground and decayed to ashes. It held his head as if it were its most prized possession and walked towards the lake.

Meanwhile, Andrew and Jacob were panicking over Billy’s sudden yell and disappearance. They called everyone—Billy, Benjamin, the police—and when they didn’t work, they even called the Anti-terrorism hotline, but they all led to the same thing: Call Failed. And when Ben finally showed up, it felt like a new year to them.

“Where have you been, dude?” Andrew asked with a hint of worry.

“Sorry, I got lost.” Ben, the thing that became Ben, said, dismissively and turning towards Jacob, “I need to talk to you.”

“Sure, what’s up?” He was concerned.

“I need to talk in private; its-” Ben glanced at Andrew for a moment, “-about Billy.”

“Yes, yes, sure. Let’s go inside.” The biggest mistake. 

Once they were inside, Jacob looked at Ben, expectantly. Ben stared at him for a moment and slowly turned his head sideways. Jacob could no longer move. Instinctively, he looked over at the knife on the table.

“Good idea,” the skin crawler said. 

Then it took the knife, felt its weight, let it swing through its fingers, and walked close to Jacob. He was pale now—paler than a dead body. The skin crawler pointed the knife directly towards Jacob’s heart, brought it close enough for the tip of the blade to touch him, moved it five inches to the left and pressed it in. Blood began trickling down from the open wound, and Jacob began to sweat in fear. It then pressed the knife down to cut through and took it out. Then it repeated, on the right, top, and bottom. Then it ripped apart the half-way cut out chest bone, put its hand inside, and touched the living, beating heart. Then it smiled, and crushed the heart with its bare hand. It walked out.

Upon seeing Ben covered in blood, still wearing the demonic smile, Andrew panicked and pulled out his handgun.

“What on earth is going on here?” Andrew said, why, for the love of God, are you covered in blood? And quit that creepy smile.”

“Go on,” Benjamin said, but there was also a resonating woman’s voice with Ben’s voice, “Load it.”

Andrew loaded the gun and pointed at Ben, saying, “Don’t you dare move!”

The skin crawler’s smile turned sincere, like a mother’s. And then it walked towards Andrew. Andrew shot it. “It’s alright, darling.” The skin crawler still walked despite bleeding from an otherwise fatal wound to the chest.

It came up close to Andrew and put its hand on his face, saying, “Don’t worry, darling, Billy was just my snack.” Suddenly, Andrew couldn’t move any more. And his hand betrayed his mind and pointed towards his own head, “And you, my darling, just murdered all of your friends.” Then he shot himself.