#the movie is a shitshow even more than the show was but i am very fond of certain aspects (liams facial hair)

[narrativedoomed]

if theres one thing ab me. Its that i have no self control

[docholligay]

As a Children’s Story for Children: Wolfwalkers

Age I was told midge should be: 7ish

Quick review: Not unenjoyable, but ultimately a bit more bland and Irish Ferngully than I was wanting and looking for. I think I expected too much of it, honestly. Not bad, though! Loved the art style.

Longer review:

I had such a hard time watching this as a seven year old because, I don’t use my phone when I watch things, which I do recommend because you notice things and gravitate toward, I think, better things, but unfortunately I have just enough grasp of the history of the area to sit there the entire time and go, “Lord Protector? Wait is this guy supposed to actually be Oliver fucking Cromwell? Did they use Lord Protector otherwise? Cromwell was a complete dick to everyone who had exactly one good idea (and it was a great one)  so I would be unsurprised. Is the year right? I feel like it is but now I don’t trust myself.” But not enough grasp of the history to actually resolve that in my mind up until the end when he was being weird and religious while dangling off a cliff and I was like, “Yeah, I’m almost sure that’s supposed to be Oliver Cromwell”*

Love the animation on this one! I would like to broadly see more diversity in styles of animation, and that’s not me particularly hating on other styles (though I do hate the bean mouth big eye rounded thing that’s so fucking popular now, even if I love the show itself) but it feels like you have three choices right now. But this I REALLY liked, and I loved how in some parts you coil.d even see the sketches underlaying the finished character. 

The story is not bad! But it’s VERY common. I mean, this has a different skin on it, and this is not me saying Cromwell’s time in Ireland wasn’t a garbage shitshow nightmare, but this is a very common kids’ story. I used Ferngully, but you see the motif of “person is part of the oppressor and learns to identify with the oppressed” come up over and over again. This is not to say that it is BAD. I am not saying that. But I am saying that Wolfwalkers did not, story wise, blow my mind and break new ground. Pretty much all of it hit the exact story beats I was expecting. 

One thing I did GENUINELY like, was showing that Robyn and her father are also victims of an absoltuely fucking insane government. And that her father could be a dick genuinely because he loves Robyn, and is afraid for her. I loved that it could make her father INTENSELY frustrating while refusing to coindemn him, and I think that is, storywise, its real master stroke. It walks that line REALLY beautifully. 

I laughed at her name literally being Robyn Goodfellow, I know as a kid I would not pick up on that but an amazing touch, especially since we know there’s no way in hell she’s not going to Learn A Vaulable Lesson about the value of the forests and the wolves and all that. 

Interesting to watch it and know that the wolves are going to be wiped out in less than 100 years, too, I’m fairly certain. So in Robyn and Mebh’s lifetime, they’ll basically see their entire pack killed, assuming they aren’t killed themselves. And if Jewlet turned to me and asked, ‘Id be like, “No they did in fact kill every single wolf in Ireland.” 

More than being interested in this story in itself, this movie made me open to the idea of watching Secret of Kells, which I’ve heard is very good but unfortunately was much hyped by one of the most annoying people I’d ever known so I skipped the fuck out of it, and perhaps I am now ready for reconciliation and healing. 

In all: Perfectly acceptable and enjoyable with a neat art style, but ulatimately a very standard kid’s story with an Irish coat of paint. Which could be neat if your kids have a lot of Irish heritage--God knows I would be singing the praises of This Exact Same Story But Jewish Tho as if it were the most remarkable tale on earth--but being have only what is statistically mandated by being a Montana Mutt, that’s not enough for it to be a must see for Jewlet. 

*I broke down and googled it the next morning. Definitely supposed to be Cromwell.

[signalwatch]

Jerry Springer Merges With The Infinite

Not many talk-show hosts get a movie playing themselves doing their talk show.  Not many talk-show hosts inspire operas.  Not many talk-show hosts wind up doing a talk-show after a major political scandal involving paying a hooker with a signed check and then *still* winding up as mayor of a major US city for a stint.

Jerry Springer was probably not a good man, but in 2011, I did meet him in the sportsbook at the Planet Hollywood hotel in Las Vegas where he was very nice to me and posed for drunken blurry pictures that have since been lost to bad asset management on the interwebs.  He was there hosting the Vegas nightly show of America's Got Talent.  He smoked a giant cigar and looked bored.

Like many talk-shows, Springer started off trying to do reasonable interviews that went in-depth on important issues, but when cancellation seemed imminent, he and his producers transformed his show into the chair-hurling, fist-tossing, hair-pulling bonanza it was.  Which made Springer rich, ultimately ran for roughly 25 years and spun off a few other shows, including a behind-the-scenes that made no one look good.  But when your set is designed to look like a sewer with a stripper pole, I guess no one cares?

In the 90's, Austin TV was hard to get on rabbit-ears, so I watched Jerry as he and Wishbone on PBS tended to get the best signals at my efficiency over off Airport Blvd.   The TV landscape was littered then (as now) with a panoply of "talk shows".  It was mostly trash TV made by trash people, featuring trash people, and for trash people (ie: me).  Jenny Jones.  Sally Jesse Raphael.  Maury.  Ricki.  It was garbage and a lot of it was faked one way or another.  But it was honest fakery.  Dumb hucksterism playing on the TV in auto-dealer waiting rooms across the country to kill downtime with noise.  Unlike Oprah, the legacy of these shows is not a flood of pseudo-science and Rich Dad snake-oil salesmen given the glow of legitimacy.  Jerry knew his show was dumb.  And he more or less said so multiple times per episode.

The funniest moment I recall for Jerry was not on his own show, but watching the City of Chicago's aldermen make Jerry and his producers come down to city hall with a threat to shut down the show, which seemed utterly legally unenforceable.  The Jerry team was polite in the manner of Eddie Haskell and answered all the questions and took the abuse and knew "my god, this is so good for the ratings" and went right on doing what they were doing.

Springer went off the air in 2017, I believe.  I hadn't watched it in years. The last time I'd watched an episode straight through was probably 2004 or so.

Jerry wrapped every episode of his show with a Springer's Final Thought, which was insane.  His show was devoid of lessons other than "people are yikes".  But he did try to gently provide advice to the audience based on the human drama/ shitshow they'd just borne witness to.  I mean, how he found new ways to say "well, cheating can lead to bad feelings" 1000's of different ways is truly a marvel of the human spirit.

I am unsure what Final Thought he'd leave us with now.  But I think he was amazed by people, and if he weren't, even the money wouldn't have kept him coming back for more than two decades.  Sure, people saw him as showing the worst of humanity, but maybe he was just showing us humans, and maybe he figured out that there wasn't a world of difference between the people on his show, in his audience and the people hauling him down to Chicago City Hall.  He may have known he wasn't so different.  He just got a front row seat to all of it, and got to play mediator. And get paid for it at that.

  https://ift.tt/63SLaZP

from The Signal Watch https://ift.tt/6n2bgJI

[captainsaku]

Okay, I’ve heard this sentiment repeated before, and I know it’s frustrating, but I’m a professional translator and I can tell you why this happens.

The incredibly tl;dr version of this is that they pay a single person to subtitle something, and the translator does not speak the foreign language in question.

The longer version is that subtitles are rarely done in-house, especially for big Hollywood things and such. The one example that goes against this is Netflix, who do subtitle their stuff in-house, but that still doesn’t remove the human element of “whoever on their team they are paying to subtitle this doesn’t speak the foreign language on screen.”

Most big companies, filmmakers, showrunners (etc.) will usually outsource their subtitling to a large multinational company, often Lionbridge (they kinda hold the monopoly for a lot of audiovisual translation worldwide), who in turn outsource their clients to smaller companies and freelance translators across the world. Usually, translators specialize in two, maybe three languages (though good polyglots exist! Many of them work for the UN, for example).

Now, the thing about subtitling in particular is that it has tight timelines for generally shit pay (I’ve seen the rates for the work they do and it can get incredibly degrading for a trade that is already devalued despite requiring a very high skill and specialized knowledge, plus creativity for more creative stuff like TV shows and movies). Audiovisual translation has a ton of constraints in term of characters per line, limited to two lines per subtitle, and with incredibly detailed style guides regarding when to italicize, how to “cut” your subs both in vertical terms (top line vs. bottom line) and in linear terms (one sub vs. the one that will come up next), which words to use or not to use (when I was touring a local dubbing house and seeing the whole process at work, I was told that, for example, Discovery had banned them from using the word “genial” at all, even when it’s a pretty perfect fit for “cool” or “awesome” in context), among other things.

Sometimes the script isn’t even provided and translators are expected to listen, hear what’s being said, and then translate directly from audio, even, though this isn’t generally the norm.

And, sometimes, when there’s foreign language happening on screen, the viewer isn’t supposed to know what’s being said. How many times have we seen films where something is happening in, say, Russia, and the actors are speaking what we assume to be Russian, only for the movie to not be subtitled at all? That’s because you’re not supposed to know.

And, to add to the above, often times the language the actors are supposed to be speaking is incredibly inaccurate, butchered, mispronounced and generally bogus, because whoever made the movie/show figured nobody would know anyway and ran the lines through Google Translate (Daredevil I am looking at you). Trust me, as a bilingual Spanish/English speaker, this is as infuriating as it is insulting, right down to them sticking all Spanish speakers into the same mixed bag labeled “Hispanics” (you’d be surprised at the amount of times they show a supposed Latino with a Spanish accent, since “nobody can tell anyway”) because, to them, we all sound the same.

And so the poor guy/gal/genderpal in charge of adding in subtitles is left with a massive shitshow on a tight schedule, with shit pay, which presents its own challenges (ever tried to translate a pun? What about a visual pun? Ever stopped to even think about them? How about subtitle length? Why do you reckon subs don’t match the dub one to one?), plus a foreign language they do not speak, which makes it so it’s effectively untranslatable. And companies are cheapskates, they’re not about to pay someone else to translate three lines of text, especially when there isn’t a super large population of bilingual translators who work in that language, so the rates are higher than what they’re paying the first translator in the first place.

Lastly, a note from personal experience. I don’t work in audiovisual translation, personally, but I’ve been a translator for ten years and work with a ton of international documents regardless. I’ve been handed stuff that had text in Polish, or Hungarian, or French (etc.) on it. I’m a Spanish/English translator, so that is neither my job nor my problem. And every time, the standard is to insert a line where that foreign text is that reads [There appears text in a foreign language]. Because it is. And I don’t speak it. And neither do my coworkers. And even if any of us did, it is still not our job and not what we’re being paid to deal with. So we make a note and move on.

Edit: since you mention English subtitles specifically, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say they didn’t provide the script and someone had to transcribe it and adapt it to subtitle format. The above still applies; whoever had to do that didn’t speak the foreign language and was just handed the thing to deal with as they could.

i love when english subtitles are like [speaking foreign language] thank you that's so helpful

[bloody-bee-tea]

Mingcheng Week 2022 Day 5 - Reluctance

Jiang Cheng lets out a deep sigh when the door closes behind him. Today has been an absolute shitshow and he’s more than glad to finally be home.

His relief only lasts for about five minutes though because before he even gets to change out of his work clothes, his phone rings.

The caller ID tells him that it’s Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng pinches the bridge of his nose.

He knows how this is going to go and while he doesn’t want to have a fight right after what happened at work, he also knows that Wei Wuxian is going to call him again and again until he finally picks up.

And Jiang Cheng decides it’s best to get this over with as quickly as possible, so he can enjoy the rest of his evening in peace.

“What?” he snaps out as he picks up.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Wei Wuxian starts with and suddenly Jiang Cheng feels tired.

So very tired.

He doesn’t say anything but of course Wei Wuxian has enough to say for both of them.

“Uncle Fengmian called and said you lost it at work today? How can you just yell at everyone and then leave? He said you dragged my project through the mud and it won’t be ready to launch, Jiang Cheng, what the fuck.”

“That’s not how it happened,” Jiang Cheng says, but he knows how this is going to go.

It doesn’t really matter what he says, as long as Jiang Fengmian said something different Wei Wuxian is not going to listen to him.

Still, like always, Jiang Cheng feels like he has to try. Somehow there’s still this grain of hope in him that one day Wei Wuxian will listen to him instead of Jiang Fengmian.

“You fucked up your calculations and I was just telling him about that. Instead of listening to me and finding a solution—which I also presented, because apparently I am the one to clean up all your messes—he yelled at me in front of the entire department and then told me to leave early. Early,” Jiang Cheng scoffs. “I was already well into over-time at that point, not that it matters.”

He knows he’s focusing on the entirely wrong thing here, but it annoys him to no end that his father seems to think that he works the same hours as Wei Wuxian. Which means he comes in late and leaves early which is not at all true.

More often than not Jiang Cheng comes in early and leaves late, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Sometimes he wonders if his father would even notice if he didn’t show up at all.

“That’s not what I heard,” Wei Wuxian says and Jiang Cheng can just imagine the pout on his face.

“Yeah, well, it’s what happened,” Jiang Cheng snaps out because he is so goddamn tired of this. “Now, if you could get your goddamn mess fixed then the project can launch like we planned.”

“No need to take such an attitude,” Wei Wuxian says and he sounds so much like Jiang Fengmian that Jiang Cheng has to fight the urge to throw his phone against the wall.

“You’d have an attitude, too, if you got yelled at in front of all your co-workers,” Jiang Cheng tells him.

“Maybe it was deserved,” Wei Wuxian mutters and something in Jiang Cheng simply shuts down.

“Good-bye, Wei Wuxian,” he mechanically says and hangs up before Wei Wuxian can say something else.

He already got yelled at by one family member today. He doesn’t have it in him to pick a fight with another.

Jiang Cheng is just setting his phone to silent when Nie Mingjue calls him.

Just the sight of his name warms Jiang Cheng and he picks the call up without hesitation.

“Mingjue, hey,” he greets him but he knows he’s not going to like what the other man has to say when he takes just a beat too long to respond.

“Wanyin, hello.” Nie Mingjue sounds tired and Jiang Cheng knows where this is going to lead.

He’s going to cancel on their movie night, and it’s not like Jiang Cheng is going to argue with him. Especially not today.

“Listen, work dragged on for longer than I wanted to, I’m still in the office, actually. Can we skip this week?”

“Sure,” Jiang Cheng says, very careful to keep his voice light. “Not a problem at all.”

There’s another brief pause on Nie Mingjue’s side.

“Is everything okay?”

“Of course it is,” Jiang Cheng straight up lies to him. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Just checking,” Nie Mingjue gives back. “You’re not mad, are you??”

“I’m not mad,” Jiang Cheng says. Just disappointed and hurt and tired and now missing the only good thing that happens to me once a week, he doesn’t say. “Honestly, I’m fine.”

“Alright, if you’re sure.” Nie Mingjue doesn’t sound completely convinced but of course he doesn’t push.

Sometimes, Jiang Cheng finds himself wanting him to, though. Not that he’s ever going to tell Nie Mingjue that.

“Next week then?”

“Next week,” Nie Mingjue agrees and Jiang Cheng nods, pretending that his eyes don’t burn.

“See you then, Mingjue.” He hangs up before Nie Mingjue can respond but Jiang Cheng is sure that if he has to say one more word his voice is going to break and that’s not something he wants.

But with the call done, that leaves him with nothing to do.

Nie Mingjue coming over for their weekly movie night was the only thing that made this day somewhat bearable and Jiang Cheng feels adrift now.

He goes through the motions of changing out of his clothes, but he can’t even bring himself to shower, so he simply puts on his sleeping clothes before curling up on the couch. He knows he could still watch a movie—no one is going to stop him after all—but it doesn’t feel right without Nie Mingjue.

Jiang Cheng spaces out, staring into nothing for a good while before a knock on his door startles him out of his thoughts.

Jiang Cheng freezes in fear, half-expecting it to be Wei Wuxian who came over to finish their fight in person but when no one starts to make a ruckus on the other side of the door, Jiang Cheng drags himself off the couch.

Wei Wuxian would have started to yell and shout for him like two minutes ago, so it must be someone else.

“Hello?” Jiang Cheng tentatively asks through the door and he was not prepared for the answer he gets.

“Wanyin, it’s me,” Nie Mingjue says, making Jiang Cheng gape in surprise.

“You said you don’t have time today,” he says as he opens the door only to come face to face with Nie Mingjue, who is still in his work suit.

He must have come over straight from his office.

“What are you doing here?” Jiang Cheng bites out but Nie Mingjue doesn’t rise to his temper.

“Can I come in?” he asks instead and Jiang Cheng has half a mind to tell him no, but of course he would never do that, so he simply steps aside and opens the door wider.

“Thank you,” Nie Mingjue says and toes off his shoes before he ventures deeper into the apartment, clearly feeling right at home.

Jiang Cheng valiantly tries not to let that get to him.

“Why are you here? You said you don’t have time today,” Jiang Cheng says and he knows how he sounds—rude and accusing, when all he really wants to do is cry and spend an evening with Nie Mingjue on the couch.

“Yes, and you said you are fine, but your voice didn’t match the words you said. So I thought I’d stop by to see what’s going on.”

“Nothing is going on,” Jiang Cheng says, bristling at the fact that Nie Mingjue picked up on that.

He always tries so very hard not to let Nie Mingjue see how fucked up he is and to hear that it’s not even working that well makes Jiang Cheng almost hate himself.

Nie Mingjue has enough on his plate. He doesn’t need to deal with the unfiltered mess that Jiang Cheng is as well.

“Something is,” Nie Mingjue shoots back. “And I’m here,” he says as he sits down on the couch and Jiang Cheng feels so goddamn helpless against him that he turns around and walks off to the kitchen.

His eyes are burning again and he’s torn between hitting something and curling up into a ball and cry but before Jiang Cheng can make a decision he hears Nie Mingjue coming after him.

Jiang Cheng is about to turn around, another blatant lie on his lips, when Nie Mingjue hugs him from behind, making Jiang Cheng freeze in surprise.

“My heart, why are you always hiding from me? Why are you so reluctant to let me love you just the way you are?”

Nie Mingjue sounds pained as he says it and Jiang Cheng never wanted this. He never wanted to let Nie Mingjue know about his feelings, to make him deal with all of this when he deserves so much better.

“Because there’s nothing to love,” Jiang Cheng snaps out and breaks out of Nie Mingjue’s arms, putting some distance between them and trying to get his composure back. “There’s nothing for you to love.”

It’s what he has been telling himself for months now; he is so fucked up, and his family is as well, why would anyone—and least of all Nie Mingjue—ever want him.

There is nothing loveable about Jiang Cheng.

“We seem to have very different opinions about that, then,” Nie Mingjue mildly says and he doesn’t move away, doesn’t allow Jiang Cheng to get the space he so desperately needs right now. “Because I love you just fine.”

“No,” Jiang Cheng whispers, “you can’t. I’ll—I have ruined everyone’s life. I refuse to ruin yours.”

“That’s not true,” Nie Mingjue vehemently says. “You have ruined nothing!”

“Ha, right,” Jiang Cheng scoffs. “My parent’s marriage is in shambles, both my parents hate me for different reasons, Wei Wuxian can barely stand me, a-jie likes Wei Wuxian way better but feels obligated to give attention to me too and you—at least you can still walk away.”

Nie Mingjue narrows his eyes at him.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Only the gods know why you’re spending time with me in the first place but you’re not bound to me, by nothing. You can simply walk away if I get too much. And you should, really,” Jiang Cheng tells him, because Nie Mingjue really should.

Jiang Cheng can still not understand how Nie Mingjue hasn’t run yet, but he’s not going to make him feel obligated to stay by dumping his stupid, useless feelings on him.

“Is that why you have never said anything? Is that where your reluctance comes from?” Nie Mingjue walks up to him, crowding him against the kitchen counter. “Because let me tell you, it’s already too late. I love you. I am already not going to walk away, so I don’t understand why you are denying both of us this.”

“Because you deserve better!” Jiang Cheng yells at him and tries to push past him but Nie Mingjue doesn’t let him.

“No. I decide if I deserve better or not, and I have decided that I deserve you. So why won’t you let me love you?”

Jiang Cheng opens his mouth to argue with him again but he finds that he’s tired. He is so, so tired and he doesn’t have any more arguments in face of Nie Mingjue’s steady reassurance and Jiang Cheng thinks that maybe once he can have what he really wants.

So instead of arguing further, he slumps forward, resting his head against Nie Mingjue’s collarbone.

“I don’t want to burden you,” Jiang Cheng whispers because that is one of his biggest fears, that he’s going to unload all of his bullshit on Nie Mingjue only for him to feel pressured by it.

To feel tied down when Jiang Cheng only wants to have him happy and free.

“You’re not burdening me,” Nie Mingjue softly replies and hugs Jiang Cheng close. “You’re relying on me and that is perfectly fine. It’s something I want you to do.”

Jiang Cheng lets out a shuddering breath at Nie Mingjue’s words and slings his arms around Nie Mingjue’s middle.

“I want to as well,” he admits. “I’m just scared.”

Scared that eventually Nie Mingjue will be like Wei Wuxian or even his own father, filled with more resentment towards him than anything else. Jiang Cheng isn’t sure he could stand that.

“I know,” Nie Mingjue mutters as he presses a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head. “But I’m here. And I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Jiang Cheng finally allows himself to say and Nie Mingjue squeezes him a bit tighter.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Nie Mingjue asks but he doesn’t allow Jiang Cheng to give an answer and maybe that’s for the best because for Jiang Cheng that was one of the hardest things he ever did. “Now tell me what’s going on,” Nie Mingjue then says and carefully drags Jiang Cheng over to the couch but Jiang Cheng mulishly drags his feet.

“No. You’re still wearing work clothes. That’s not comfortable,” he says and pushes Nie Mingjue towards his bedroom. “You need comfy clothes.”

“Or otherwise cuddling is not comfortable, right?” Nie Mingjue asks with a wink and kisses Jiang Cheng’s cheekbone before he can say something. “Alright, I’ll go change. I still remember where the things are, you can wait on the couch.”

“Rude,” Jiang Cheng mutters under his breath but he does obediently walk off and now he finally allows the warm feeling that Nie Mingjue feeling almost at home here inspires in him to fill him whole.

Jiang Cheng is curled up under the blanket when Nie Mingjue comes back and Jiang Cheng’s heart thumbs heavily in his chest when he sees Nie Mingjue looking that cosy.

Nie Mingjue wordlessly sits down on the couch as well and before Jiang Cheng can feel self-conscious about what to do now, Nie Mingjue leans back against the arm-rest and pulls Jiang Cheng on top of him, securing the blanket around them.

“And now tell me about your day,” Nie Mingjue mumbles as he cards his fingers through Jiang Cheng’s hair.

“I think I want you to tell me about your day,” Jiang Cheng replies and Nie Mingjue chuckles under him.

“Fine. And because this is a mutual thing, you’re going to tell me about yours after,” he decides and before Jiang Cheng can say something to that, he starts to talk.

Jiang Cheng finds that he loves this very much and even when it’s his turn to talk about his day, he doesn’t feel too bad about it anymore. It’s very hard to feel bad about anything when he’s laying on top of Nie Mingjue like that.

And he especially can’t feel bad now that he knows his feelings are reciprocated.

Link to my ko-fi

[yoonjinkooked]

Chemistry | JHS (6 (pt 1))

Part 6 - Just Do It

(pls ignore my old URL, i’m too lazy to change it now RIP)

DRABBLE SERIES, TONS OF SHORT LITTLE CHAPTERS.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Hoseok / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: FWB, university AU, smut

Warnings: blonde Hobi (yes, that’s a dang warning), heaps of dirty talk, public groping, lots of sex discussion, them being responsible adults and getting tested before doing it, cursing, drinking. It ends on a bit of a cliff hanger cause this is just an intro of the smut fest that the next chapter will be Also, IMPORTANT: the ‘Spring Cleaning’ party that I am describing is fictional (that I know of at least) and I BEG OF YOU, please don’t mix your drinks. Just don’t. It won’t end well. Don’t mix drinks, don’t drink and drive, don’t drink what a random person gives you and never ever ever leave sight of your glass. Please. Drink responsibly and stay the f away from it if you are underaged. That also means you need to stay the f away from this story, too 💜

Word Count: 3k

Summary: After a few years of being immune to Jung Hoseok’s charms, you suddenly fall into them, head first. All it takes is one night, too much alcohol and a lot of balls.

A/N: Again, DRINK RESPONSIBLY! The smut fest part 2 is coming super fast (no pun intended). Unedited, so please forgive me, I needed to get this shit out to you and i just need more Hobi. these are drabbles after all lol

“I’m clean,” Hoseok informs you with the widest grin possible. “Got the results emailed this morning. 100% clean and ready.” 

 You don’t register his words at all - first of all, he had startled you, appearing directly in front of your path, probably seeing you from afar, making your way to the study hall where the first class of your day takes place. And on top of that, you are way too shocked with his appearance to even bother understanding the words he was telling you. 

 “You’re… you’re blonde,” you mumble as you stare at his hair, wondering if it’s your mind playing tricks on you. Sunlight makes hair lighter, doesn’t it? It doesn’t make it almost platinum, though. Looking him over, you realize that nothing else has changed - still the same height, still the same weight, still his signature casual but colorful clothing - but the blonde is there and it’s magnetic - it’s impossible to look at anything else before your eyes are glued to his new hairstyle again. It suits him so damn well. If someone had told you he’d look this good blonde, you wouldn’t have believed them. 

 “Oh, yeah,” he waves his hand off, laughing, as if it’s a completely irrelevant thing. Honestly, to him it might be, but not to you. “More importantly, I am clean,” he repeats his earlier words and this time around, you do get to properly register them, as well as the meaning behind them. Clean. Safe to have sex. No worries in that department. You should be overjoyed but not only are you still hypnotized by his sudden change of looks, you’re also refusing to focus on that particular information. 

 It’s weird - you did stuff, discussed even more, agreed on everything. You blushing at him informing you that it’s finally safe for him to fuck you and finish inside you is weird. 

 “You’re blonde,” is all you can say, and it earns you an eye roll from Hoseok. 

 “Oh come on Y/N,” he whines. “If you’re going to be like this just take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

 “Hey!” you snap, smacking him on the shoulder in retaliation, which only makes him laugh. “Have mercy on me here, give me a moment to get used to this new look of yours. If I showed up with a completely different hair color, would you be able to focus on anything else?” you demand, absolutely positive that he’d be equally as lost as you are. 

 “If you telling me that you’re clean and we can finally fuck, yeah, I wouldn’t be focusing on hair, even if it had all the colors of the rainbow in it,” he answers honestly. 

 “Okay, okay, we get it, we’re on the same page - you’re stupidly hot, clean and want to fuck,” you laugh at him, although you would be a fool to deny that it’s getting to you - the way he is so upfront about liking you and being attracted to you is impossible to ignore - it makes you feel a lot more confident than you have felt in a long while. 

 “Oh Y/N, you know me so well,” he acts as if he’s genuinely touched and it’s this reaction that makes you melt and laugh. No matter the hair color, no matter how casual he references his intention to get his dick inside you, it’s Hoseok. And that’s all that matters. “Seriously though, we both have our results so whenever you’re ready, if you’re still up for it…” he doesn’t finish the sentence but the raise of his eyebrow says it all. 

 “I’m not missing out on that piece of ass if that’s what concerns you,” you joke, looking him up and down as you speak. It’ll never cease to amaze you how he can whisper the dirtiest things to you, or even say them casually out loud, but turn as red as a tomato when you do the same thing. “What are you doing tonight, do you have any plans?” you ask. 

 “Aren’t you going to Namjoon’s?” he frowns in confusion. “Spring Cleaning party season?” he reminds you and starts laughing immediately, probably at your look of realization mixed in with disgust. “Is this about Namjoon or about the Spring Cleaning party season?” he laughs. 

 What you guys refer to as spring cleaning is exactly what it sounds like - all the leftover alcohol that somehow managed to survive the past year is gathered in one place in the ‘bring-your-own-booze’ manner. It’s usually a mixture of hideous drinks and half empty bottles and once it’s all gathered, you make it even worse, combining it into borderline poisonous mixtures. Everyone attending and everyone drinking does so on their own responsibility, fully aware of how the night might end. 

 A year ago, it was still fun. Now, you know you’re too old for that shit. 

 “It’s about both,” you answer Hobi’s question in a whine. “I don’t wanna deal with wasted frat boys who’ll spend half the night throwing up and Namjoon is insufferable.” 

 “Namjoon is one of your best friends,” Hobi laughs. 

 “I know - that’s why I’m well aware of how insufferable he is,” you grunt in annoyance. “I know it’s tradition and all but can we skip all of that? Coochie in exchange for avoiding a party we’re too old for anyways?” you suggest. 

 “Wait,” Hoseok’s eyes widen and you can imagine a lightbulb turning on above his head. “You think Namjoon’s insufferable?” 

 “Incredibly so, yes.” 

 “And you want to make his life a living hell in retaliation?” he continues asking. 

 “Absolutely,” you reply in a heartbeat, despite loving Namjoon like he was your family. You adore him but you cannot stand him at times and ever since this little thing with Hoseok had started, he had not stopped teasing you. It’s time for him to suffer. 

 “Hear me out,” Hoseok moves closer to you, as if he is about to share a conspiracy theory that no one except you is allowed to know about. “How about we go to the party and stay there a bit - laugh at the idiots, dance to bad music - just a regular Thursday. And then, when the shitshow starts, and it will start, we go upstairs and seal the deal?” 

 “You want us to fuck in Namjoon’s house?” you start laughing. 

 “Is there anything that would annoy and traumatize him more than knowing two of his closest friends fucked in his house?” he points out. 

 “Yeah, if he walks in,” you burst out laughing. “Honestly, sold. Fuck it.” 

 “I plan to,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you in the most sleazy manner possible - jokingly, of course. He knows he has you hooked and he can play around with it. And you’ll love it. 

 “Ugh, stop doing that,” you laugh, smacking him on the shoulder again. “Don't try too hard, you already have me, blondie.” 

 “I look that good, huh?” he laughs, hitting the bullseye. 

 You don’t answer that question - you offer him nothing more than a smile and a shrug before you slowly walk past him and make your way to a class you’re probably already late for. He knows you enough to realize that to you, yes, he does look that good. And you cannot wait to find out what other things he can do to you, hoping that the movie is as promising as the trailer was. 

  Standing across the room, Hoseok keeps his eyes glued to you, the same way he did from the moment you entered the house. You aren’t hiding from it either - you make direct eye contact with him, smiling in a knowing manner as you listen to whatever it is that Taehyung was yapping on about. You tried to listen - you really did, at first. But the problem is that Hoseok’s very presence demands your attention - it’s something you can’t control. If he’s around, if he’s in the room and if you have this feeling of the two of you alone knowing something, knowing this secret about what’s going to happen tonight - no one else stands a chance, not even your friends.

 “Are you seriously ogling Hoseok while I’m asking you for relationship advice?” Taehyung sounds exasperated and you feel guilty - even more so when you realize that the only reason he did manage to get your attention was because he had mentioned his name. 

 “Ugh, I’m so sorry Tae,” you don’t try to defend yourself, knowing you’re guilty as charged. “My mind is a mess, I’m a useless friend. I just… can’t focus on anything else,” you admit sheepishly, not really wanting to go into details. They know that something is happening and that’s it. You don’t want to share more, neither does Hoseok, nor do you think any of your friends is particularly thirsty for details. Except perhaps Jimin, but tough luck for him. 

 “Then go!” Tae urges you and for a moment, you think that he is angry at you - the urgency with which he said it makes you wonder if he’s pissed with you for not listening to him carefully - but when you look up at him, you see his signature smile. He’s not angry - he’s cheering you on. “Go and get your guy!” 

 You want to  sigh, roll your eyes and remind him that Hoseok is not your guy - but in a weird, fucked up way that only you and him understand, he kind of is. It’s you he’s looking at - not any other girl, and there are plenty. It’s you he’s had his eyes on ever since he first saw you - it’s you he’s waiting for. 

 So you go for it - the same way you did the night it all started. Without thinking twice about it, you approach him, walking through a crowd of people to get to him - his eyes follow you every step of the way, standing straighter as you finally get to him, mere inches separating the two of you. 

 It’s electric. The feeling between the two of you, it’s purely electric, making you wonder if he’d burn to the touch if you were to reach out. In your mind, he always was the epitome of the Sun, so it wouldn’t be no surprise. You notice his smile despite not breaking eye contact - he smiles at you with them too, the signature wrinkles appearing on the edges. 

 “Well, don’t you look lovely tonight,” he tells you, giving you a quick once over. “Black has always suited you.” 

 “Now’s the time when I say something quirky yet charming like, ‘it matches my soul’,” you joke, laughing along with him. “Thank you - I had to dress in my finest, seeing as it’s a special occasion after all.” 

 “Is it?” he laughs. “I thought it was just a Spring Cleaning party.” 

 “Hoseok…” you shoot him a warning glare. 

 “I���m just messing with you,” he laughs, pointing out the obvious. “Can I… kiss you?” 

 This question takes you by surprise - you have decided to be public with whatever the hell this thing is - simply to avoid confusion, especially since you’ve agreed that you won’t be sleeping with other people while this deal of yours is standing. It’s a nice surprise, though - the fact that he still wants to ask, the fact that he is making sure that you are comfortable with it - whether it’s with the kiss itself or it being in public. It warms your heart to know that even though you had never planned any of this with him, he ended up being the right choice. 

 “Hobi, honestly, we’re past the point where you need to ask,” you admit, wanting him to know that you’re not going to back out and that you do feel comfortable. 

 He says nothing, instead deciding to kiss you immediately. It’s slow and gentle, lazy and languid, in a way that shows no rush or urgency. It’s obvious that he is enjoying it, and so are you, every move of his tongue against yours, every breath of yours that mingles with his. To the two of you, the rest of the room no longer exists - the sounds toned out, the people long forgotten. It’s almost as if it’s you and you alone - and the rest of the world doesn’t matter. You move your body closer to his, anchoring your hands around his neck as you press against his front - as you have found out, making out with Hoseok has plenty of merits, and one of the bigger ones is simply the feel of his body against yours. 

 His hands wander, slowly and likely aware of the audience around you - it’s highly unlikely that anyone spared you more than a glance, but despite what it feels like in your mind, you are definitely not alone. So when his fingers graze your ass, he doesn’t grab it firmly like you know he’d like to - he simply rests his hand there, with pressure that promises that there’s more in his mind than a simple touch. You know very well that if the two of you don’t slow down soon, he’ll pop a boner in the middle of Namjoon’s kitchen and even though you’re hardly keeping this a secret, that would likely be a bit too much for him to handle. 

 With your mind heading in that direction, you begrudgingly stop the kiss, but you don’t move too far away from him - your hands still around his neck and his hands still on your ass. For what seems like minutes, neither of you says a word, simply looking at each other, your eyes scanning the face of the other - the way his lips are wet and how he nervously licks at them, the way his cheeks also changed shades (and you know alcohol is not to blame for it) and the glint in his eye that likely mirrors yours, with both of you knowing what’s in the other one’s head. Tonight is the night, the night you will finally seal the deal. 

 And if all goes well, start something that will make you explore things and areas you dared not speak of, much less try them before. All of it, from the sweetest and most romantic to the nastiest, kinkiest shit imaginable - you want to do it all with him and it’ll start tonight. 

 “So...” You start, in what you hope is a sexy voice. “Are we going to go and piss Joon off by fucking in his house?” you ask, making sure that the sexy voice you’re trying to use is also low enough for no one else but him to hear. You take it a step further, pressing your lips to his ear, whispering. “I want to suck you off before I ride you until I can no longer hold myself up. Then, I want you to fuck into me with all that strength you have and fill me up, watch the cum drip out of me and then watch me finger it back inside my cunt.” 

 Pulling away just in time to see him swallow a lump, you move one of your hands from around his neck, down his chest and stomach, very slowly, before grazing it over his already noticeable growing dick - you don’t tease him more than that, knowing that even though you might not feel them, you likely do have eyes on you by now - you simple careers the area where his jeans are starting to stand out, a sign of his eagerness that completely mirrors the way your underwear is sticking to your core. Both of you are horny as all hell and if you don’t act on it soon, you’ll jump his bones right here, right now, on Joon’s kitchen sink. 

 “How ‘bout I use my fingers to push the cum back inside you and when it dribbles out again, I eat you out until you want to scream my name but you can’t, ‘cause you’re sucking on my fingers, licking every drip of cum left on them?” he suggests and you for a second, you think your knees are going to give out and you’ll fall flat. You don’t, likely because he still has his hands pressed to your backside. 

 “Oh, I’d want nothing more,” you shamelessly admit. 

 “Then we’re not doing it here,” he announces, laughing at the immediate sulky reaction it elicited from you. “Don’t be like that, it’s better if we go to my place,” he chuckles at you, gently squeezing your butt. “I want us to enjoy the night, go for as many rounds as our bodies can take and then do it again in the morning. We can’t have that here while some freshman is doing a keg stand and anyone can walk in on us at any second. We can piss Joon off later - but it’s the first time we’re gonna do it and damn it, I wanna do it right.” 

 “You wanna do it right?” your eyebrows rise. 

“I could stand here all night and list all the things that I want to do to you, and you to me, and still remember more on the way home - and we’ve already discussed a bunch. I want to treat you good and give you the best fuck of your life - I promised as much and I want to deliver. We can fuck in Joon’s house any other day, honestly.” 

 “Do you want to… use something tonight?” you ask, pressing your hand against his crotch a little bit harder this time. “I have some toys back at my place but we won’t be alone there.” 

 “Nah,” he shakes his head immediately. “I have my cock, mouth and fingers - I don’t need much else to make you want to never do anyone else. We’ll have plenty of time for all the toys - and when I say all, I mean all. I’d go for anything with you.” 

 “If you keep talking like that, I’m just going to cum right here, right now,” you admit. 

 “While that would be a sight for sore eyes, I have other plans. Let’s go,” he takes you by the hand and away you go, making your way through the crowd, not caring if anyone notices how quickly you’re leaving or how you’re walking hand in hand. 

 You simply don’t give a shit, at all. All you care about is Hoseok right now - his dick, mouth and fingers and all the things he plans to do with them. 

[ashleyetc]

i said i wasnt gonna rant about how fucking bad Eternals was but ive decided that i can bitch about this particularly bad mcu movie as a treat. this is long, but the movie is the better part of three hours so

okay so first of all, it starts off like, dumb. it starts off with a fucking opening crawl like its star wars with an explanation of how the eternals exist to fight for intelligent life blah blah blah but as someone over the age of 8 its immediately really apparent that this is gonna be bullshit and theyll have been unknowingly evil the whole time. like its set up so weakly and impotently that like at best it reads as an early draft.

in our first scene of the eternals fighting the deviants (this movie's cgi monsters, which i will say are at least more visually engaging than a lot of comparable ones. whoever animated them really wished they got to work on Annihilation and it shows in a good way) i immediately clocked that 'hey chiseled jaw white dude who can fly and shoot eye lasers looks pretty fucking sinister huh. oh god please dont' (spoilers, they very much do).

then it really starts with us seeing protag in the modern day. nothing about this section is interesting. i think we're supposed to find her and kit harrington cute as a couple, and i dont object to them, but hes never significant in this and spoilers for one of the aftercredits scenes literally only features so prominently because hes setup to be in Blade. there are much larger issues with this shitshow but thats a peak mcu problem right there

so then we get to the first fight scene in the modern day and i am immediately confused because for some completely unfathomable reason the black point is set absurdly wrong so fight scenes, at night, poorly lit, with a mostly black cgi monster, are completely illegible. this will continue to be the case throughout every scene not in daylight and it will never get better or make any more sense.

now predictably, we soon find out that oh no, the eternals have been working in service of the baddies the whole time, who want to cultivate intelligent life to hatch their kids. said bad guys, the celestials, are also like, gods effectively, in that they create and maintain the universe. we have no info on this outside of what one of them tells our protag tho so like weird dynamic. but anyways. for some reason half the eternals are like 'well yeah alright lets let it happen' and keep going back and forth on that which if this movie were written by someone who even pretended to give a shit could be an interesting concept.

moving on we continue to get the band back together and run into druig. now in a flashback we see that he led to them scattering across the planet when he went 'hey maybe we should stop genocide sometimes' and this started a big fight. so naturally, youre thinking ah yes this must be a more likeable member of the team. and thats a reasonable assumption! an understandable thing to think, really. except his powers are literally mass mind control of humans and while in earlier flashbacks he just uses these to like, stop fights and get ppl to chill out, when we see him in the modern day hes like, possessing an entire village in south america for his own little paradise? which is an absolutely deranged choice to make for a character we i think are at least not supposed to despise. like holy shit guys, you sure did that and have decided hes not the villain for it.

at some point we flash back to their original leader ajak deciding to actually stop the celestial from being born and killing earth, not because she thinks genocide in general is wrong- she is the one whose known the whole time this is what theyre doing- but because well it was earth ppl who beat thanos so i guess they should get a pass. like she is explicitly 'well these ones are good tho. no regrets on the other planets we've done this to that only i remember tho.' at this point she is killed by icarus, the chiseled jaw flying wite dude with superstrength and eye lasers. yup! its a But What If Superman Bad story now! we even have a scene where a child explicitly calls him fucking superman!!the hack writing here knows no fucking bounds.

did i mention sprite? the one who despite the fact theyre immortal (robots, we find out sometime in all this) is a 13 ish year old girl visually? when icarus decides to betray everyone and try to make sure they cant stop the celestial birth she joins him because she apperntly has always been in unrequited love with him. now this goes nowhere and serves no purpose other than to make me deeply fucking uncomfortable, but at least sprite is a user of illusion magic who literally stabs our protag in the back during the final fight. its discount loki!

oh also hephastus's whole deal is hes like, an artificer and has pushed human tech along and theres a fucking scene that blows my goddamn mind. where we see ajak comforting him as he weeps in the fresh destruction of hiroshima. where hes like 'oh god i did this humanity is awful and not worth saving blah blah blah' and its like. okay. this character, i cannot stress enough, is black. presumably, if he was instrumental in the atom bomb, was living in america. as a black guy. in the 1940s. and hes only just now starting to doubt humanity is all great and good? tell me the writers room wasnt as diverse as the cast without telling me the writers room wasnt as diverse as the cast. like in a good movie exploring these immortals who have lived alongside humanity for all of history debating whether humanity deserves to live, youd think the black one might have an interesting perspective or something to say about race. this aint that movie tho.

the climactic fight scene ends with such an impotent fart of a climax that i genuinely feel like i missed something. throughout the whole thing theres mentions of how sersi and icarus were in love for thousands of years, icarus only leaving her when he found out the truth of their mission and couldnt bear to be around her and not tell her. and in their final fight, he looks into her eyes, we see a flashback to an earlier scene of them getting married in like 200 ad or w/e, and he silently decides to fly into the sun killing himself (presumably).

this movie is 2 hours and 45 minutes.

i expect bad mcu movies. i expect dull, i expect propagandic, i expect humorless quips and half baked characters. i dont expect something so unpleasant and offensive to anyone who wants to actually think about anything happening on screen that it feels designed to be frustrating. the worst mcu movie previously in my opinion was thor 2, but its biggest sin was being painfully dull. this is worse. its painfully engrossing. i often enjoy watching movies i think are bad or whose ideas i disagree with, but this refused to even have ideas, really- it constantly threatened to but they never really showed up, at least not without being immediately contradicted. genuinely this is worse than Suicide Squad (2016). i would rather rewatch the snyder cut.

one of the worst things about it is how clearly it was calculated in some boardroom, that if we had a diverse cast we didnt need a good movie. like sure, we have plently of racial diversity, we have a mute character (genuinely unclear based on a particular scene whether shes deaf or not but she speaks via sign), we have a gay man raising a kid with his husband, etc. guess we dont need anything else. guess thats definitely the only thing that matters. and i know some incredibly stupid people will agree with that. you google it and get articles about how its doing so much good for representation and like. im reminded of when tumblr was like 'you gotta watch black lightning there are black lesbians' and nobody bothered to mention that the show fucking sucked (to be fair i think it was a cw show so thats on me for not assuming but).

anyways harry styles has a cameo in one of the post credits scenes. its charmless. 1/10 movie, both in general and for the mcu.

[buckyswheezes]

Perfectly Fine (Pt. 5)

Premise: “You know why I don’t like you? It’s because you’re a natural. You’re naturally kind, naturally good-looking; you can wear trash bags and still look perfectly fine. You’re naturally intelligent and excellent in everything you do. It’s like you naturally get what you want, you don’t have to work hard for it. You don’t have to pretend because people naturally like you.”

Or Bucky found out that the new oh-so-perfect Junior Accountant of Stark Industries isn’t as perfect as everyone thinks.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

It was only eight in the morning, but you found yourself busy as a bee. You woke up early that Saturday to somewhat clean up your apartment because Wanda would drop William off before her flight to DC. You promised her you’d look after the boy while she was gone, and you meant it.

An hour and a half later, the doorbell rang, and you wasted no time opening the door, knowing who it was.

“Hey, co-“

“Mornin’ doll.”

Your smile immediately vanished at the person in front of you, turning into a scowl. “The fuck are you doing here, you peasant?”

Never mind that he looked hot as hell in that black shirt. You loathed it when he shows up unannounced.

“Can’t I visit my girlfriend on weekends?” James retorted with a smirk and pushed past you to get inside. You did not miss the way his eyes widened in surprise. “Wow, this place is pristine.”

“Shut up, James.” You said as your trailed behind him towards the living room, annoyed at the apparent jab at your moment of cleanliness. “First, I am not your girlfriend, and second, I don’t have time for your blackmail shitshow today because Wanda and William will be here soon.”

“I’m gonna let that first one slide, doll since I know how grumpy you can be in the morning.”

You decided to ignore his statement, content with shooting eye daggers towards the back of his head. He went straight to the kitchen to make coffee, you knew, because that’s what he always does when he shows up unannounced and pesters you in your house.

Minutes later, the doorbell rang again, and you briefly hoped that this time, it’s Wanda and William behind the door. You got up from where you were seated on the couch, but James beat you to the door.

“I’ll get it.”

Alarmed, you ran towards him before he could open it. “No!” You lowly hissed. “I don’t want Wanda to know you’re here. Go hide in the kitchen.”

He raised a brow at you. “Wanda already knows we’re dating. What I got to hide for?”

“Yes, but I don’t want her to think that we’re… you know.” You flushed at the thought. You’ve always known that couples who go to their partner’s houses are doing it -not that you think you and James are couples. You just didn’t want Wanda to have the impression that you two are having sex as well.

You dropped your gaze from his face, and it fell on his chest. You didn’t miss the way how the dark fabric clung to him. He was well-built, no doubt; it was the first time you’ve seen him wearing clothing other than his suit and tie. His usually sleek brunette hair is tousled, but he still looked handsome as hell. The image will be etched in your mind for a while, you know it.

Bucky saw your face heat up and instantly knew what you were referring to. “We’re what, doll?” He smirked as he leans closer to your face.

Your breath hitched. “Nothing, just get to the god damned kitchen, please.”

“As you wish, sweetheart.” He conceded, which actually surprised you.

When James finally disappeared into the kitchen, you tried to calm yourself down before opening the door, greeting Wanda with a sweet smile.

“Thanks again, y/n. I owe you.”

“You’re welcome, Wanda. And don’t worry, Will’s in good hands.” You assured her.

The redhead turned to her son, who now stood beside you, your arm draped over his shoulder. “Now, you be good, okay. Don’t give y/n a hard time.” She reminded before giving him a peck on the cheek. She bid the both of you goodbye, and you both watched as she hailed a cab and climbed as soon as she got one.

You led the boy inside, noting how he got excited at the sight of James. You weren’t aware that they know each other.

“Hey, Will. Wanna go biking today?” James asked as he walked towards you two.

Your jaw dropped. No, that wasn’t what you planned to do today. You and Will were gonna binge watch Paw Patrol on Netflix, maybe munch on some sweet snacks, play a little, then hit the sack when night came.

“I don’t think tha-“

“YES!” William yelled enthusiastically, then looked at you, eyes pleading. “Can we go biking, y/n?”

“Oh, sure, Will. If that’s what you want.”

“Yay! Thank you y/n!”

Once again, you turned to James with a scowl, but he only grinned at you. If looks could kill, this man would be dead. “Go and get dressed, doll. We’re gonna have so much fun today.”

———

Bucky cast a worried glance at you. “You okay, doll?” He asked. You’ve been unusually quiet since you got in the car. You weren’t blessing him with your curses, and he thought it was because you’re censoring your words because of William, but he noticed that you weren’t even shooting him your virtual daggers.

You just sat there on the passenger seat with a blank face, and it got him concerned.

“Doll?” He called again when you didn’t respond the first time, and you finally looked at him as if broken from a trance.

“Huh?”

“You good?”

You bit your lip in trepidation as you recalled what James said earlier.

“We’re just like a family, bonding over the weekend. It’s gonna be fun.”

Family? Bonding? You sat there staring at his side profile but not really seeing him. You were lost in your thoughts. How do you bond with your family?

You were in second grade when you noticed that you were different from the other kids. You didn’t have a mother, and they did. And that’s what a family is, your teacher said. There’s a mother, a father, and their child or children. And the family has fun on the weekends, and they call it bonding.

You were shocked, scared, and you panicked. You didn’t have a family, and you certainly didn’t bond during weekends. No, what you did since you were six was helping around your father’s small repair shop after school. When the weekend came, he would spend the entire day drinking while you listen as he rants on about all his life’s problems.

You remembered asking yourself why? Why were you different? Maybe there’s something wrong with you? Maybe you didn’t really have a family, you didn’t have a mother, and you didn’t bond during weekends.

“I’m fine.” You finally said.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” You squeaked. You know James wasn’t buying it, so you decided to change the subject instead. You turned to William, who sat in the back, seatbelt strapped on.

“What do you wanna do after biking, Will? Wanna go to the arcades?”

The boy’s eyes lit up at your suggestion. “Can we?”

“Of course! Then after that, we’ll grab pizza and ice cream. How’s that sound?”

“Can I have cotton candy too?”

You chuckled, a genuine smile finally gracing your lips. “Sure!”

True enough, the three of you went cycling by the park with rented bikes, after that, you rented rollerblades and went skating (you, failing miserably so while the two boys laughed at the way you fell on your butt cheeks but James was always there to help you out). Then you went and grabbed pizza and ice cream and cotton candy, and when you’re all full, you beelined for the arcades.

The night rolled in, Will is asleep on the back seat while you and James sat in front.

“Is this what you did with your family when you were a child?”

“Yes, my dad taught me how to ride a bike. Sometimes we’ll go to the movies, swimming, hiking. How about you?”

You shifted in your seat, heart beating loudly. You thought you’ve gotten over it, for fuck’s sake, it was a very long time ago! “No, we don’t… we didn’t do any of those things.” You glanced away.

You felt something warm envelope your hand. You turned and saw James leaning close. “It doesn’t really matter what you do, doll. It doesn’t matter if what you did was different; what’s important is you had a connection.”

You nodded at his comforting words.

“Now, let’s go home. I bet you’re tired.

Part 6

author's notes: This story's ending soon. Don't worry tho, if you want more AU Bucky, I have a couple stories lined up. I got you, fam.

Taglist: @crowleyqueenofhell

[theliterarywolf]

How was the sequel to Tales from The Hood, a shitshow?

The original Tales from the Hood, while having some campy horror elements, still managed to present its stories and tone competently while still incorporating themes of struggles of black Americans in urban areas. 

Examples: 

A black politician who’s been trying to fight against police corruption gets beaten to death and injected with drugs post-mortem by said corrupt cops to slander his name. The politician returns from the dead to exact vengeance. Obviously this short tackles police brutality and corruption.

A little boy and his mother who are constantly beaten and abused by what he draws and identifies as a ‘monster’ who, it turns out, is the mother’s new boyfriend. The theme here is Domestic Violence and how often people try to brush it under the rug as just a way of life in the community. 

A former klansman-turned senator buys a building called ‘The Dollhouse’ that is of high historical significance to the local black community, despite their wishes and complaints, to serve as the headquarters for his racist campaign to become governor. The house in of itself was where a confederate-supporter, after the loss of the Civil War, decided to murder all of his slaves rather than see them freed. Their restless souls haunted the place until a ‘voodoo woman’ managed to calm their souls and place them into dolls. You can pretty much guess where this is going and the themes.

The final entry centers around a gang-member who, after getting hunted and shot down by rival gang-members, is taken into police custody and is given one last chance for freedom by a doctor’s new, radical behavioral therapy program. Said therapy takes a note right out of A Clockwork Orange and bombards our main character with alternating images of brutal gang-violence and KKK lynchings. After which, he is berated with apparitions of all the people he’s shot and killed; including a little girl who was a victim during one of his drive-by shootings. Of course, this kind of therapy will only be successful if the subject shows some remorse...

And all of this is wrapped in a framing device of three gang-members trying to find some drugs at a funeral-home, even harassing the funeral-director, which turns out to be a portal into hell.

... *deep breath*

I have to do a ‘Read More’ because this post got long. But I implore you guys to read on to see the abyss of insanity and bad directions that were taken in regards to the sequel of this movie. Please.

The sequel decided to throw ALL NUANCE AND TACT out of the window and give us such wonderful stories as: 

A white girl and a black girl are on a road-trip and decide to go to the... ugh... Museum of Negrosity where the owner chastises them on thinking that the uncomfortable racist memorabilia he owns (collections of minstrel show cartoons, golliwog and pickaninny dolls) are things of the past instead of acknowledging them as parts of America’s racist past. And, for some reason, the white girl is obsessed with buying one of the golliwog dolls because she had one when she was little. Anyway, they sneak back in later with the white girl’s brother who happens to be the black girl’s boyfriend, so they can steal one of the dolls. Through hijinks, the doll comes to life and grows to the size of a human being. The brother/boyfriend gets whipped to death, the black girl gets cut in half by a minstrel-colored guillotine, and the white girl... Fucks the giant golliwog doll, gets pregnant, and a few days later, has her stomach torn open as a bunch of baby versions of the doll go flying out everywhere.

Some gang-members track down a former pimp who’s changed his ways to try and shake him down for some owed money. He doesn’t comply, so they kill him but, golly-gee! How are they going to get the money now~? Oh, I know! Hold a scam medium hostage so he can perform a seance to talk to the pimp to find out about the money. But, oh no~ It looks like the medium’s powers decide to actually work this time~ Ooh~

Two douchebags hookup with two hot chicks and, after the world’s worst game of Cards Against Humanity, they decide to roofie the girls so they can record themselves raping them so they can post it to ‘le dark web’. ... Lo’ and behold, the girls turn out to be vampires who were playing 4D chess to rope the two douchebags in so they can use them for their own recording-something-brutal-to-post-online scheme. 

And... The LAST one. Oh my God, the LAST ONE. *deep breath* Okay.

So we follow a black republican councilman who is married to a white woman and they’re expecting a baby after a long line of miscarriages. But the wife is having weird bouts of bad dreams and insomnia. What are the bad dreams about? 

... I need you guys to understand. That I am not shitposting when I type the following words. *deep breath* Okay. 

The wife is being haunted by the ghost of Emmett Till telling her that she doesn’t deserve to have her baby. You know? Emmett Till? The victim of one of the most brutal, horrific murders in America due to one of the most disgusting, vile acts of racism? THAT EMMETT TILL?!

So..! The black councilman is working for a white politician who... I’m just going to put a direct quote from the movie so you can get where they were coming from.

“That man wants to close down ten more voting locations, all of them in black districts!”

Anyway, after a house-call from a doctor who brushes off the dreams as hormones, the councilman hosts a party for the politician who’s running slogan is ‘Let’s take Mississippi back!’ Gee-golly-willickers! Can’t imagine where they were coming from with that one!!

So the party goes on, the politician even congratulating our councilman on his ‘white wife’, but said wife rushes downstairs after having another dream; ranting about ‘that boy from the field has decided to LIVE! And if he lives, our baby’s going to die!’ And she runs outside with a machete to try and kill the ghost of Emmett Till (who, again, very real person and victim of racist brutality). 

So the councilman’s mother and the local voodoo expert drive up and the voodoo expert tells the councilman that Emmett Till is trying to talk to him about the nature of sacrifice. The next day, the wife is talking about how her stomach is getting smaller, but the councilman doesn’t want to hear any of it and calls the doctor again. And, guys..?! If shit hadn’t jumped the rails before?! The train just starts doing cartwheels from here. 

The doctor is suspiciously short-tempered with the politician this time around and he does examine the wife to confirm that her stomach is indeed shrinking. However, when he’s told that the councilman is the father, he storms out and snaps “I don’t work for coloreds!” 

Then the wife runs out of bed and tells the doctor that the councilman isn’t her husband and that he kidnapped and raped her. So both the wife and the doctor drive off and the councilman realizes that the world has somehow gone back to the era of Jim Crow. 

... Oooh my gosh, typing this is making me want to commit toaster-bath but it gets so much worse..!

So, after the voodoo expert comes to chastise the councilman about not ‘respecting the sacrifices that have been gifted to you’, he is able to see the ghost of Emmett Till (who was a real person, why is this happening..?!) who is there to tell him that he’s decided that he wants to live. Which means that the world will never see the brutal images of his body at his funeral and that will cause a Butterfly Effect in history that will make it so that the Civil Rights Movement never happened. 

You may be questioning the logistics of this, but don’t worry! The ghosts of the girls killed in the 1963 16th Street Baptist Church Bombing in Birmingham come to explain and further berate the councilman about ‘respecting the sacrifices that have been gifted to him’ and working for a racist politician. 

But wait! There’s more! *whines* I keep crying out to God but he won’t answer...

They’re soon joined by the ghosts of the three Freedom Riders who were killed during the Mississippi Burning Murders, the ghost of Civil Rights Activist Medgar Evers, and DR. MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR. 

Not to mention several other unnamed figures who walk up while everyone else starts chanting about ‘respecting the sacrifices that have been gifted to you’, who look like Rosa Parks and Frederick Douglass, just to name a few. 

... I need a drink. I need a cold, stiff drink. ... Almost done. 

So, in comes the Klan. You know, the white-robed bastards; I hear they have an outreach center a few cities away from me. Sure, fine, whatever. The wife is leading them along with the white politician who hits the councilman’s mother in the face with a baton and Emmett Till stops time just as reinforcements show up to tell the councilman that, in order for everything to go back to normal, he has to join the ranks of those who sacrificed. 

“If what you want is worth us dying for, how come its not worth you dying for?!”

And, at first, the councilman disagrees; even being dragged away by Klansmen. However! It’s his wife angrily spitting in his face that makes him realize that this world isn’t the world he wants to live in. So he runs over to Emmett Till to tell him that he will join him... And then he’s beaten to death, becoming a sacrifice to get the world back to normal. And, once it is, his spirit joins Emmett Till’s and walks off into the great beyond. 

So! Not only did this schlocky, B-movie horror movie sequel decide to use a REAL LIFE VICTIM of racism-driven brutality as a story-device, but it also wants to put forth the message that the people who lost their lives during the Civil Rights Movement? Yeah, they HAD to die! Otherwise the Civil Rights Movement would never have happened~!

You see why I hate the sequel to Tales from the Hood so much? Not even mentioning the terrible framing segments of a racial-profiling robot being told these stories so it knows what ‘criminals’ to go after, but this movie is just a temple of ‘WHY?! WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?!?!?!’

[deans-baby-momma]

Mommy’s (Not So)Good Girl-23

My Spring Break quickly turns to heartbreak and misery. 

All week long, everything seems to remind me of Dean. The snapshots Mom had hung on the refrigerator door to the sofa where I remember riding Dean’s dick the weekend before I went back to school. Even traveling with Mom and Ben to the grocery store dredges up memories of my 21st birthday when I lost my virginity in the very seat I had to sit on. 

It is getting difficult to hide the grief and disappointment when my tears kept multiplying and trying to make themselves known. Mom looks at me curiously when they appear but I just shrug them off as allergies.

I think she's catching on though. Not exactly that it's Dean I'm crying over but she knows I've never had allergies before. She just nods once and then goes back to whatever she was doing before. Ben, on the other hand, is oblivious to my heartache and, truth be known, uncaring.

I lay in my bed each night, his scent still infused in my pink comforter promoting me to reminisce about his time spent here, in my room between my legs. This is the only time I can allow myself to mourn.

No, he isn't dead. Dean Winchester is very much alive and well. Well,  as far as I know, he is. But knowing that I had planned to come clean and admit my feelings for the man is what made me lament. 

The fact that he is gone, and possibly for good, is catastrophic for me. I wonder if he knew; if he realized I had fallen in love with him 

Wait! Did he know when he visited me on campus that he would soon be gone? How long ago has it been since his brother "came back from the dead"? Was that his goodbye? Was that him coming to say he was leaving?

I make a promise to myself to ask Mom the next day when exactly his brother returned. Tonight is no different than the rest of the nights since I came home; dreams of making love to and professing my feelings for Dean plague my dreams.

It's at breakfast the next morning, after Ben runs off to Noah's house that I approach the subject with Mom.

"When did Sam show up?" I ask tentatively.

"First week in March," she answers and  I internally sigh in relief. So, Dean's visit to campus in February was not him saying goodbye. He had actually driven all that way to see me and spend time with me; not because he knew he was going to be gone soon.

"You said some bad guys were after him?" I continue while eating my toast. " Why?"

"I don't know, Abs. Dean didn't take the time to explain it to me. Just had Ben and I pack a bag and took us to Bobby's."

"In South Dakota, right?" I ask and she nods so I go on. "How bad is bad if Dean felt the need to take you almost 12 hours away? What did Sam do? Is he a criminal?"

"No," she tells me and then sighs as she covers her face with her hands. "At least I don't think so. I think he just got tangled up with the wrong crowd after Jess died."

"Who is Jess?" I'm perplexed now. I know none of these people and yet they have ultimately put my family in danger and took away the man I love.

"His college sweetheart," Mom explains. "She was home when a fire broke out in their apartment. They think she was sleeping because her body was found in the bedroom."

"Oh. That's horrible!"

Mom goes on to tell me how Dean had been worried about his brother's mental state after the fire and how Sam had vowed to seek revenge for his girlfriend's death, even though the fire was recorded as accidental and the medical examiner claimed her death due to severe burns and smoke. How he got mixed up with the wrong crowd in his revenge and ending up having to fake his own death to get away.

I listen and my heart breaks even more for Dean. He never really liked talking about his family so I just assumed he'd had a falling out with them. I had no idea his brother had been 'dead'.

It brought up more questions. Questions I am unsure Mom had the answers to. Like, did Dean know Sam was really alive? Or was he clueless and assumed his brother was dead? Had he mourned for him? Did he give him a funeral and bury him? Who did he grieve over and stick in the ground? I will probably never find out.

The last day of my break, I sneak into the kitchen and grab the photo that Mom had on the fridge of Dean with his left arm around my shoulder and his right one around Ben. That had been a great day. We had went up to White River and spent the day on the river fishing before having a  picnic at one of the picnic shelters.  It was a fun and pleasant day; except for almost getting caught behind the bathrooms kissing Dean. 

I stuff the picture into my pocket and head outside where Mom and Ben are waiting to see me off.

Being back at college, on campus in my dorm room did not soothe my heartbreak.  Everywhere I looked I saw him; from my bed to the path we walked to the food cart, the memories of strolling across campus holding hands overwhelming.

I can barely concentrate on studying for my finals without a reminder of some type of my time spent having sex with my mom's boyfriend. 

Sheila and Debby learned quickly that I was never in the mood to hang out and gossip or even explain what happened between "John" and me. They eventually quit asking and left me alone to stew in my misery. 

As I'm sitting at my desk studying, or at least trying to, on another lonely Friday night, I hear a knock on my door. 

Grumbling under my breath, I get up and walk to the door, jerking it open.

"What?!" I am shocked and aghast at who is standing in my doorstep. Dean fucking Winchester. "Dean?"

Dean gives me a half smile and I open the door wider, silently inviting him in. Once he is inside my room, I close the door and click the overhead light on since I was only using my desk lamp to study by.

Dean puts a hand up, covering his eyes for a second but then takes it down. I wonder just how long he has been driving since the glow from the bulb blinded him; exactly where did he come from to see me?

“What’s going on? I’ve missed you,” I tell him as I put a hand on his shoulder. He looks down at it and pushes it away. Okay, what the hell is going on?!

“I can’t put this on you. I can’t let you be a part of this shitshow that is my life now, has always been my life. It’s ugly and I’m going to die….soon.”

That is definitely not the response I was hoping for so I try to reach for him again only for Dean to back away; like he was afraid of my touch. 

“Tell me what you are talking about. What is going on? You’re scaring me.”

“You need to be scared. You need to be afraid to be associated with me. There are things out there that should terrify you. Things connected to and because of me!”

“Is this about Sam?” I ask, trying to get him to open up. “Mom told me he had had to fake his death to get away from some bad people. Did you and he not get rid of them?”

Dean closes his eyes and just breathes, deep and sharp. Like he is trying to sniff out something. Suddenly he grabs me and pushes me against the wall. I can’t help but get turned on by the brusque turn of events. Maybe he is role-playing? I’m the damsel in distress and he is the knight come to save me. 

“Daddy?” I purr and Dean leans in toward me. I close my eyes awaiting the moment our lips touch but it never comes. Instead, Dean lets go of me and I open my eyes to see he has turned away from me.

“Dean?” I step toward him, worried about what is going on “What’s wrong?”

I place my hand on his shoulder once again, planning to turn him toward me but he slaps it away. 

In a very authoritarian tone, he yells. “I SAID STAY BACK!”

I look across the room and can see his reflection in the mirror of Sheila’s vanity. Dean is standing there with a distressed and pained look on his face. He opens his mouth as if to say something but wait! What the fuck?! Are those fangs? My eyes widen at the sight. 

No, it can’t be! I have to be imagining things. Only vampires have fangs and vampires don’t exist in the real world; only on television and the big screen in those stupidly popular teen romance fantasy movies. Vampires are not real! 

Dean finally turns back toward me and I can see that his eyes are red-rimmed and his pupils are dilated, the black almost overtaking the green of his irises. 

Once again, I find myself pinned to the wall by him and I am starting to get scared. Why is he acting like this? Why does he seem so pissed? 

“I gotta go Abs,” he says. “I can’t bring you into this. I can’t!” 

He lets me go and I slide down the wall until I hit the floor. I pull my legs to my chest and wrap my arms around them. Dean looks down at me once more and then he takes off out the door. 

I stare at the door in shock as tears run down my face. 

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​ @spnbaby-67​ @tftumblin​ @sea040561​ @delightfullykrispypeach​ @larajadeschmidt13​ @vicariouslythruspn​ @squirrelnotsam​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @sandlee44​ @blacktithe7​ @deanwanddamons​ @hoboal87​ @marvelfanbrenda​ @vicmc624​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @elliloumom @stoneyggirl​  @kricketc29​

[misamerglova]

I’m really getting tired of people telling me what books, movies, tv shows, art and artists in general I shouldn’t like.

It happened to me with several fandoms - you can’t like this the author is rasist. You can’t like this the author is transphobic. You can’t like this the author antisemitic. You can’t like this because of something...

There is no art without the artist and their life experience. It’s not in my capacity to research every single thing I come across just to see if there are any troubling issues in it - nor am I willing to do that. Sometimes I want to simply stumble on something, relax and enjoy it and not read essays on why I shouldn’t like it prior.

I consume art mostly for the characters and their emotions so I’m pretty much oblivious to their surroundings on the first read/watch. Often it means I just ignore the worldbuilding, politics and general context and therefore troubling issues often pass me by without me realizing it. I’m aware of that and I’m trying to be more observant.

If there are problems with the art/artist that come to my attention I do research it. If it’s something I’ve never seen or read before the chances are I’m not touching it (e. g. I never got to read any of the Orson Scott Card’s books because I’ve heard about his opinions beforehand).

If it’s something I know and like I often try to read/watch the art once more while knowing the troublesome links in it.

Do I stop liking the art? That depends. Because I liked the characters for their emotions in the first place, the core is still there, still genuine to me. If the issues with the art don’t change the characters (and I found that it very rarely does) the thing I fell in love with is still there. That didn’t go away just because I have learned about some troublesome context of the setting or the author. I still love Captain Mal and his crew from Firefly despite Joss Whedon cheating affair. I still enjoy fanarts of adult Harry Potter despite J. K. Rowling’s Twitter. I still like both Jack Sparrow in the first Pirates of the Carribean and that actress who Reid fell in love with in that one romantic episode of Criminal Minds despite the Johny Depp-Amber Heard shitshow. I still ship Levihan from AoT despite the fasist undertones of the story.

That being said, I DO look differently on the art as a complex thing though.

Often like in case of Harry Potter or American Beauty I don’t go back to it because it became too synonymous with the artist to me. I like to remember the positive feelings it gave me but it died for me with the controversy.

In other cases, like AoT or works of H. P. Lovecraft, I still go back to it but I activelly realize the issues while reading it. It helps me practice to better focus on the issues I normally ignore while consuming art. Also, if I do recommend this art to my friends it is with warnings so it’s up to them if they want to get into it.

One quick story I wanted to share. I got into AoT fairly recently without knowing the issues about it prior. Once I was made aware of it I read multiple articles about Japanese far-right politics, history and generally things I never would have gotten my hands on as someone from the middle of Europe if I didn’t get into AoT. It gave me much needed context to understand the problematic aspects and to think about the manga in a very different light. I recommended it for its story structure to my writer friend because the plot twists there are excellent but I warned her about the general setting and political implications. We had an increadibly interesting debate about it since she knows much more about WWII than I do and again it widened my horizons. Do I still like the AoT characters? Yes. Do I still enjoy it in general? Yes, but I’m much more aware of the aspects that I personally don’t agree with. Do I view the general story in a very different light now? Very much so. Did reading it force me to get out of my bubble, learn something new and be more perceptive for the future? Yes.

And this is why I don’t like the strict ‘stop supporting this’, ‘cancel this’ or ‘how dare you like this’ comments. Because not reading or watching something just because someone said you shouldn’t gives you no knowledge and it makes you generally susceptible to manipulation. I’m not saying go and consume everything that is controvesial to form you opinions about it. But instead of being ashamed for accidentally getting into something that showed to be problematic I embrace it and try to make the best out of it. Once you are made aware that the art was made by a person with bias it’s easier to see and recognize that bias, in art and in life in general. It helps you understand the artist and to recognize how people with similar biases think - which can help you better understand the world around you and also to recognize and even change patterns in yourself that could be problematic. Maybe this is my wishful thinking but I’d like to think that consuming some art that later showed to be problematic, learning about it and debating it with people gave me better critical thinking. Not thinking about something and just following ‘because someone said so’ reasoning is easy and lazy. And that’s why I’d rather people to explain the issues in depth than to give me the ‘you should not be enjoying this, shame on you’ rhetoric.

Obviously there is an elephant in the room still and that is the aspect of supporting the art and artist. I’m not going too deep into it but generally, if I get into something that I’m later made aware to be controversial I consider my next steps individually. In same cases I keep the books or artworks, in some I don’t and I get rid of them - no book burning though, usually I just send them to a library or a charity. Once my friend was turning old books into a table which was a poetic way of making some problematic books useful. Also, huge frachises like Harry Potter live out of merch sales so I usually choose simply not buying any. I also don’t buy other books and products if I deem that author too problematic for me.

To close this, I’m not ashamed of being passionate about some aspects of artworks that within years crystalized into something controvesial. My feelings about that were genuine and if I didn’t realize some issues with it it’s not because I’m a bad person but rather because I didn’t realize the full extent of some ideas behind the artwork. I don’t know everything about everything so I learn as I go and sometimes that means revisiting the art to examine not just the things I saw and fell in with but more importantly to see the things I ignored, in order to not ignore them in the future.

Hope this makes sense...

[dearestdaffodils]

Season 1, Episode 1: PILOT

A/N: A lot of quotes and character dialogue is taken from the show! I am not trying to take credit for the amazing work the writers and actors and everyone involved in this show did! I also left out writing scenes that don’t involve the main group (IE: Ward and Sarah talking with Lana Grubbs) and a few other scenes simply because I wasn’t quite sure how to write them. 

Warnings (for the whole series): violence (as it is in the show), swearing, mentions of abuse, underage drinking and smoking, drug use

Word Count: 3579

“The Outer Banks, paradise on earth.” I tune out John B’s voice, ignoring his ‘welcome to the OBX’ speech for the camera. He was determined to make a documentary about our lives this summer, though I really didn’t know why. 

Welcome to the OBX, an island divided in two. You either have two houses or two jobs, that’s what John B always says. That blond boy sitting next to me, that’s JJ. My boyfriend. He’s as local as they come. Latest in a very long line of fishing, smuggling, vendetta-holding salt-lifers who make their living off the water. Don’t tell him I said this but he’s the best surfer I know. Mild kleptomaniac and probably a future tax cheat. 

The girl across from me is Kiara or Kie. When she’s not saving turtles or listening to Marley, or getting a dolphin tattoo, she hangs with us. None of us really know why she’s a rich kid after all. Next to her is the brains of our little operation. Pope. Finalist for the Lucas T. Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship and the smartest kid I know. 

The kid in the driver’s seat, the one who is paying more attention to his camera than the road, that’s John Booker Routledge, but everyone calls him John B. He’s kinda like my brother. He and his dad took me in when my family dumped me on their front porch when JB and I were about four. He drives me crazy and he knows it. 

And then there’s me. Y/N Y/L/N. Little Routledge as JB likes to call me even though I’m four months older than him. Big John disappeared nine months ago at sea, which means JB and I have been on our own since Uncle T split for Mississippi. Everyone insists that Big John is dead but John B refuses to sign the papers until he sees a body. 

Social workers have been on our asses nearly every day, trying to force us into foster care. John B and I have managed to avoid them so far. 

So this is how our story starts. Me losing nearly all of my second family and a social worker breathing down my neck. 

JB and I are probably the only two people in history to say this but thank god for hurricane Agatha. 

“Hurricane Agatha continues its steady march towards Kildare Island on the Outer Banks of North Carolina…” JB set the radio on the counter, turning up the volume as we listened for a miracle to keep DCS away. 

“Holy shit.” I look outside, taking in the dark sky and swirling wind. “JB, I think we found our miracle!” I shout over the storm siren, fishing my phone out of the couch cushions and dialing the number for DCS. “Yeah, I think we’re gonna have to reschedule.” I blurt into the phone, barely giving the woman time to answer. 

John B rips the phone out of my hand, hanging up and dragging me outside. “We gotta surf the storm surge!” 

“Are you insane?” I stumble after him, dodging tree branches. “Those aren’t surfable waves!” 

“Says who?” He laughs. “Come on!” He drags me along, pausing to grab our boards. 

I run after him, splashing into the water as the storm rages around us. I paddle after John B, surfing a few waves before the storm starts to pick up its pace. “JB! We gotta get inside!” I shout. John B stares out towards the open water, ignoring me. 

“JB!” I shout. “We have to go!” I turn to look at him, my gaze following his extended arm and index finger. My eyes land on a boat, getting tossed around in the storm. “John B, we don’t have time to worry about what those idiots are doing, let’s go!” 

🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌  🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 

The morning after a hurricane always feels like something out of a movie. The silence fills the gaps of life, save for the sound of chickens and the occasional shouts from neighbors.

I peel my eyes open, hearing John B moving around in the kitchen. I swing my legs over the side of my bed (which is really just two mattresses stacked on top of each other) and slowly stand up. I shield my eyes from the sunlight pouring in from my windows, moving the towels that double as my curtains out of the way.

I grab my phone from the stack of books next to my bed, checking the time. “No service,” I mutter, opening my door and stepping onto the cold wood floor of the Chateau. 

“JJ, you been outside?” John B asks the blond boy, shaking his shoulder. 

“I have polio, bro. I can’t walk.” JJ mumbles, burying his face deeper into the pillow. 

I make my way to the front door, lightly swatting at JJ to get him up. “Oh man…” I whisper, looking outside. “That’s no good.” I survey the yard, taking in the damage. “What’re you thinking, JB?” 

“I’m thinkin’ that storm surge pushed all the crabs out on the marsh maze. It’s God tellin’ us to fish since DCS isn’t getting on a ferry anytime soon.” John B grins. 

🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌  🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 

I stand on the bow of the HMS Pogue with JJ, looking at all the damage. “We’ll be cleaning this all summer.” I murmur, shaking my head. 

“That is my nightmare.” John B pipes up from behind the wheel, pulling up parallel to the dock just outside Heyward’s. “Well, look who we have here.” 

“I can’t.” Pope mimics static, pretending to talk into a radio on his shoulder. “My pop’s got me on lockdown.” 

“Your dad’s a pussy. Over.” JJ does the same, looking directly at Heyward. 

“Oh, I heard that, you little bastard.” Heyward glares at JJ.

“We need your son.” JJ flashes one of his signature smiles.

“Yeah, and island rules.” I bite my lip to stifle a laugh. “Day after hurricane’s a free day.” 

“Who made that up?” Heyward looks between me and Pope. 

“Pentagon, I believe.” I laugh. “We have security clearance. I have a card.” 

“You think I’m stupid?” Heyward frowns as Pope moves towards the edge of the dock. 

“I’ll do it tomorrow. I promise. Tomorrow.” Pope moves to jump into the boat as Heyward moves forward. 

“You think - no, no. Hell no. You doin’ it right now.” 

“Get in the boat, Pope,” I whisper. “Make a run for it.” 

Pope leaps into the boat, holding his hat on his head. “I promise I’ll do it tomorrow, dad!” 

“We’ll bring him back in one piece!” I call to Heyward, waving. 

The boys whoop and cheer, driving up to Kie’s dock. I smile wide, grabbing onto the dock as we wait for her. 

“Good morning!” Kie hurries down the dock, carrying her usual backpack and cooler, her hair neatly tied up on the top of her head. 

“Welcome aboard, fellow Pogue princess.” I laugh, saluting her. “Whatcha got? Juice boxes?”

“You know, just some yogurts and carrot sticks. I made sandwiches too, cut the crusts off how you like ‘em.” She teases, poking my nose. 

I help her onto the boat, grabbing a beer from the cooler as John B drives out into the marsh. He weaves through the channels, leaning back in the captain’s seat, looking as if he’s asleep at the wheel. I wouldn’t be concerned if he was though, he knows these waters better than he knows himself.  

“Can you go a little faster?” JJ asks, stepping up to the bow. “I got a party trick to show you.” He balances on the edge of the boat, tilting the beer bottle, letting the liquid flow freely from the bottle. 

“You’re getting beer in my hair!” Kie and I shout in unison, screaming and falling out of our seats as the boat hits something, stopping immediately. “Jesus, JB!” 

JJ groans, popping up from the water in front of the boat. “I think my heels touched the back of my head.” He chokes out. 

“What did you do?”  I push myself off the deck of the boat, resting a hand on John B’s shoulder. 

“Sandbar.” John B mumbles. “The channel changed.” 

“No shit, genius.” I shake my head. 

“Hey, I saved the beer, though!” JJ cheers. 

“Congrats, J.” I lean over the side, sticking my hand out to him. “Come on.” 

“Guys… I think there’s a boat down there.” Pope calls, looking over the other side of the boat. 

“Shut up, no way.” Kie scoffs. 

“I’m serious. There’s a boat down there.” Pope points. 

I join him on the side, looking down at the shape in the water. “Only one way to find out.” I shrug, quickly discarding my shirt and shorts before diving in. I swim down, peering around in the murky water. My eyes go wide and I swim up, grabbing onto the edge of the boat. “That’s a fucking Grady-White. A new one is like an easy 500 G’s.” 

“That’s the boat we saw when we surfed the surge.” John B looks at me. “Maybe it hit the jetty or something.” 

“Do we know whose boat that is?” Kie frowns. 

“No, but we’re about to find out.” I smile. 

“It’s way too deep.” JJ shakes his head. “You’re not going down there.” 

“Oh, for the weak and feeble, JJ.” John B chuckles. “Little Routledge can handle it.” He turns his attention to me, saluting me. “Diver down.” 

“Diver down.” I flip him off before diving back down, searching around the boat. I pop up after a moment, pushing my hair out of my face. 

“Any dead bodies?” Pope asks nervously. 

“Looting potential?” JJ asks at the same time. 

I shake my head, holding up a bright yellow tag with a key attached. “I found this motel key.” 

🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌  🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 

I jump out of the boat as we reach the motel, tying the rope around a stump. “So, what’s the plan?” 

“You’ll see, bubba.” John B grabs my wrist and JJ’s arm, pulling us along. 

“Yeah, that doesn’t inspire confidence, dumbass.” I roll my eyes. “This place is a shitshow, doesn’t look like anywhere someone with a Grady-White stays.” 

“Motel or meth lab?” Kie mutters under her breath. 

“You be the judge,” Pope mutters back before giving me a pointed look. “Don’t let your boyfriend do anything stupid.” 

“I can’t make any promises.” I raise my hands in surrender as we walk off, going up the steps of the motel. 

John B leads us to the door, checking the number on the key as JJ knocks on the door. 

“Housekeeping!” JJ calls in a high pitched voice, waiting for an answer. 

“Should we try it?” John B asks, prompting nods from JJ and me.

We enter the room, closing the door behind us. I look around the room, handing John B a map from the bed. I move towards the bathroom, seeing John B messing with the safe out of the corner of my eye. I scan the walls of the dark and dirty room, shining my flashlight around

“You guys are gonna wanna see this.” He murmurs. 

JJ and I hurry over, looking in the safe. “Damn…” I whisper, looking at the stack of money, a gun laying on top of it.

JJ grins like a maniac, grabbing the gun from the safe. 

“JJ, put that down now!” I whisper-shout. 

“Just take a picture of me! Right here and then I’ll put it back!” 

“You want me to take a picture of you?” I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest. “Make our own incriminating evidence?” I look up, hearing a tapping on the window. I hurry over, looking out to see Pope and Kie jumping up and down. 

“Cops!” Kie shouts quietly. 

“Shit, boys, time to go,” I whisper. “Cops.”

🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌  🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 

“Thanks for warning us so quickly.” I laugh, playfully shoving at Kie’s shoulder as we push off from the motel. 

“We would have warned you sooner except Pope was on the math team.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Did you guys find anything?” Pope asks. 

“No, I don’t think so.” JJ sighs before pulling out the gun and a stack of cash. “ Oh, yeah, we did.” 

“Are you serious?” Pope shouts in a high pitched voice. “I’m gonna lose my merit scholarship.” 

“At least you have us, right?” JJ grins. 

“I’m living the nightmare,” Pope whispers to himself. 

🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌  🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 

“It’s Scooter Grubbs. He was out during the storm. Check out this pic I got.”

“Dead body.”

“Insane.”

“Holy shit.” 

“What kind of boat did he have?”

“Somehow, that dirtbag copped a brand-new Grady-White. Everyone’s out looking for it.” 

The words seemed to hover around us as we drove back to the Chateau, following us as we collapsed into chairs on the porch. 

“Okay… so, um… we didn’t see anything.” John B takes off his hat, running a hand through his hair. “We don’t know anything.”

“We need to have total and complete amnesia.” Pope nods. 

“Actually, Pope is right for once.” JJ nods, slinging an arm around me as he slides into the seat next to me. “See, I agree with you sometimes. Deny, deny, deny.” 

“We can’t keep that money.” Kie paces up and down the porch. 

“Not all of us can afford unlimited data plans, Kiara.” JJ sighs. 

I lightly push at his chest, giving him a look. “We have to pass it off to Lana Grubbs.”

“Otherwise, it's bad karma.” Kie nods in agreement. 

“I don’t agree.” John B murmurs from the corner. “This is Scooter Grubbs we’re talking about. Same dude that’s buying individual cigarettes at the Porthole. Shit, one time I saw this dude begging for change in the Save-A-Lot parking lot because he needed gas. We’re talking about a dirtbag marina rat who’s never had more than 40 bucks in his pocket, and all of a sudden, he’s got a Grady-White? Just sayin’,” 

“We have to see what’s in the cargo hold of that wreck,” I speak up. “For now, we lay low and act normal.” 

“Kegger?” JJ grins. 

🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌  🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌

As JB always says; you can’t understand the Outer Banks without understanding the boneyard. It's kinda like a three-layer burrito. There’s us and our friends, the working class derelicts. Then, there are the Kooks, the rich second-homers. They’re mostly from poncey-ass boarding schools, just rich trustafarian posers. Our natural enemies. And then, there are the Tourons. Totally clueless. Here for a week on vacation with their families. Chum for the sharks. 

I smile, making my way across the sand with drinks for me and JJ, passing Pope along the way. 

“It's kinda weird when on TV, we see people die, and they kinda just sit there, but in actuality, they would be shitting and farting up a storm.”

I laugh, shaking my head as I walk past Pope and the fire. I make my way over to JJ’s usual spot; a fallen tree half-buried in the sand. I hand JJ his drink, sipping mine. “Poor Pope.” I snicker, glancing at the other boy over my cup. “He just can’t figure out how to talk to girls.” 

“Sarah! Sarah, be careful, okay?” 

I turn my attention towards the metal buoy stuck in the sand, recognizing Topper’s voice as he tries to coax Sarah down from the buoy. 

That’s Sarah Cameron. Kook princess. Kiara’s best friend in the ninth grade, worst enemy in the tenth grade. JB works on her dad’s boats and I was supposed to be helping her stepmom with gardening but have basically become a glorified babysitter for the princess. And that’s Topper. Her not so pleasant boyfriend. Just saying his name makes me want to vomit. He actually thinks Pogues were bred to mow lawns. 

I watch as Topper lifts Sarah down, starting to walk her up the beach and back towards his car. I barely see JJ move forward, extending a cup in her face. 

“Sarah, can I interest you in a tasty Milwaukee beverage?” JJ smirks, frowning when she declines. “Is it not fancy enough for you?” 

“I’ll take it.” Topper reaches for the cup, glaring as JJ pulls it away. 

“If you said pretty please, maybe.” JJ teases. 

Topper moves to grab the cup, knocking into JJ’s hand and spilling the drink all over Sarah. “Dirty Pogues!” Topper growls as Sarah pushes him back. 

John B moves in front of JJ as I pull him away. Topper lunges at John B, knocking him into the water. “ Don’t make me drown you like your old man, all right?” Topper shouts, holding John B down in the water. 

JJ rushes forward, pressing the gun to Topper’s head and clicking the safety off. 

“JJ!” I gasp.

“Yeah, you know what that is. Your move, broski.” JJ huffs as Topper raises his hands in surrender, standing up. 

“Check your psycho boyfriend, Y/N!” Sarah whines.

“Okay, everyone, listen up! Get the hell off our side of the island!” JJ fires the gun twice into the air, watching as the crowd scatters.

“So much for laying low!” Pope hisses at JJ, helping Kie pick John B from the water. 

🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌  🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 

The next morning, JB was up before the roosters started crowing. The rest of the Pogues had returned to their respective homes. Kie had taken Pope home before returning to her house in Figure 8. JJ had left a small kiss on the crown of my head before disappearing into the trees.

I wander out of my room, wiping sleep from my eyes. “You look like you just swallowed a jellyfish.” I bump shoulders with John B. 

“Sheriff Peterkin just left…” He mumbles. “She’s asking questions. She said she can help us with DCS if we help her.”  

“Well… we’ll just give her the most information we can without us getting in trouble.” I sigh. 

🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌  🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 

“The three of us! We’ve got nothing to lose!” JJ huffs, gesturing between me, John B, and himself. “You’re not calling this off, John B. I have a plan. We borrow some scuba gear from Cameron’s big boat and then we go down to the wreck.” 

We probably should’ve learned a long long time ago to never listen to JJ. He’s filled to the brim of bad ideas, like stealing from JB’s rich boss. 

Big John said the island was America on steroids. The haves and have-nots like anyplace, but magnified and multiplied. The way JB and I see it, the game’s rigged. Maybe it always has been. No parents, money, and no one looking out for us. We got no chance unless we make it on our own. 

🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌  🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌  

“You took empty tanks, JB.” I sigh. 

“This one’s a quarter full.” John B mumbles. 

“So enough for one of us… I just love it when a plan comes together.” I rub my head in annoyance. 

“Does anyone even know how to dive?” John B asks.

“I read about it,” Pope speaks up.

“Great, Pope read about it. So someone’s gonna die.” I roll my eyes.

“Look, you put the thing in your mouth and breathe. How hard could it be?” JJ asks.

“If you come up too fast, nitrogen gets into your blood, and you get the bends.” Pope leans back in the captain’s seat. 

“Bends like, bend over and…” JJ giggles, bending over the wheel.

“The bends kill you.” Pope sighs, making JJ’s eyes go wide.

🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌  🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 

We all circle around John B as he kneels on the dock, holding the bag from the wreck. 

“Can we please just open the bag?” Pope huffs. 

“Damn, Pope. That’s a rare outburst of emotion.” I snicker.

“You guys are literally killing me with anticipation. Open the bag.”

John B opens the bag, pulling out a canister. He twists open the canister, letting a small circular compass fall out. 

“Oh, wow. Yup. That’s about right.” Pope sighs. “Good job, everybody. We found a compass. It's not worth anything.” 

“This was my father’s.” John B mumbles. 

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

me in 2012/2013 reading the first hunger games book because it was popular bc of the movie: ooh seems cool but super political so that’s not cool bc political stuff is boring and stupid and not something that i’ll ever have to understand. plus all katniss does is fucking whinge. she’s so whiny. it’s annoying. guess i won’t read the rest of the books or watch the other movies.

me now, in my mid 20s having finally watched all the hunger games movies, having read the first two HG books in full and still reading mockingjay, all because suzanne collins was like ��oh hey here’s a new book about president snow!” and also thinking about how the world is practically in ruins by 2020: yknow what? suzy has a fucking point! of course katniss is whiny, teenage me, she comes from the poorest district in the whole of Panem; where wealth is basically non existent except for those who live in shops. the capitol loves to watch 24 kids die each year while they live in extreme comfort and fancy, whereas every district from 2 down to 12 are all slaves to the capitol: even if they have some better off people in the districts, that work for the army (district 2) or run the electronics factories in district 3 or whatever else in the other districts. besides the motto of Panem’s capitol being “breads and circuses” which are provided by the districts; which katniss and peeta meet in Catching Fire, at the party for their state media orchestrated wedding (Y I K E S™️ am i right?) where octavia (one of katniss’ stylists) invites both katniss and peeta to use some funny concoction to make themselves throw up in the bathroom to fit more of the overly decadent capitol food dishes into their stomachs. talk about “waste not, want not” somewhere else away from katniss; because she’s literally almost starved to death and seen others starve to death countless times in district 12. and surely you could’ve recognised the reference to “bread and circuses” at least, after fucking studying ancient rome for two whole fucking terms in year 11, teenage me????

in addition to the above, the victors of the hunger games are forever terrorised by the government via various means; and especially so if they’ve defied the capitol like katniss & peeta or even haymitch (though that isn’t partly revealed til halfway through catching fire and wholly revealed through haymitch in mockingjay). they torture peeta to insanity, basically and then seemingly “deliver” him back to katniss in district 13 programmed to kill her!!!! they parade the tributes like beauty pageant contestants and animals for slaughter at a cattle show in district 10; right after training them as killing machines for the arena, where they’ll exhibit their newly honed murdering skills before an entire nation each day. like girl!!!! there’s so much to relate to the real world in this text!!! but you’re just going to brush it off because it’s “too political” and because “katniss is a whiny bitch!!!”??? like of course she’s whiny! she’s 16/17!!! just like you!!! but you’re just an asshole. learn to empathise with other fictional characters that A R E N T harry potter and the cast of characters in that series, for fucks sake. or alternatively, learn to empathise with characters that A R E N T ellie linton and her friends in the tomorrow series doing their guerilla fighting during a war in australia. because by Mockingjay, katniss is as much a guerilla fighter as ellie is a rebel fighter against the enemy country that invades australia in the tomorrow series. like yes, the tomorrow series isn’t set in a futuristic american post-apocalyptic hellscape like Panem. but that doesn’t mean that the state war that’s fully raging in mockingjay and breaking out in catching fire, due to the quarter quell and the former tributes being recruited again to go through the Murder Olympics™️/Hunger Games again as a form of state sanctioned terrorisation on their psyches, and those victors becoming enemies of Panem due to them voicing their feelings of injustice about being forced to compete in the arena again during their interviews...... is not the same as ellie in normal but war-torn 1990s australia; where ellie and her crew of friends basically become state enemies because of their large scale guerilla activities like blowing up enemy ships and airfields. just like how katniss and gale blow up bombing airships from the capitol in district 8 with their bomb loaded arrows or blow up the military base with rebel army fighters in district 2 in mockingjay. but yeah. just learn to empathise and connect with/relate to characters outside of your incredibly limited reading palate.

moreover, 7-8 years into the future in 2020, the world is in political turmoil, believe it or not. maybe you’ll relate to katniss as you grow more tired of the aussie government forever penalising the younger generations by taking away penalty rates on weekend and public holiday shifts in an already terrifyingly precarious job market that’s become highly casualised/part-time based, which is pricing them out of the property market also, due to lower wages/earnings bc part-time/casual roles don’t pay very well. then on top of that, having a generation defining pandemic. then thirdly, also having the worst set of bushfires in 2019 and earlier this year, that saw like 55million native animals die and millions upon millions of hectares of bushland be burnt to the ground. finally, they’ve made your dream arts degree basically unobtainable due to raising the fees by 113% to $43,500 instead of the $23,000 that it was when i graduated from that degree in 2018. also if you fail they want you to pay your fees upfront instead of relying on hecs to cover it all. all because it’s apparently for “saving the aussie economy.” are you pissed now, teenage me?

across the seas in america, however, donald trump is leading the country as president and he’s turning the country you bizarrely loved more than your home country (due to all the american docos and teen shows you watched/were watching) into a fascist shitshow which is killing millions of people. like i won’t be surprised if donald trump (or even scott morrison/scommo/scummo) if he/they get/s another term in office, and tries to introduce a hunger games style olympic games or something all so the poorest classes learn their place after rioting for most of this year over BASIC FUCKING HUMAN RIGHTS FOR BLACK LIVES MATTER (even here in australia too); because the police are turning into the brutal peacekeepers of Panem, but on a worldwide scale.

like if they introduced some type of HG style murder olympics, they’d do it just to prove that they may have actually read something other than their own stupid self-aggrandising and country/state-destroying twitter rants before they post them.

[captainillogical]

Devil’s Ballroom Ch.7

A year after the events from the earth���s final attack, Little Homeworld is finally complete, and there’s a new jazz bar where gems and humans mingle and drink. - As you’re typing back a reply, someone pulls the stool out next to you and takes a seat. You see a sliver of pink out of the corner of your eye as you try not to actually Look. Oh god. It’s her. God can’t help us now.

Spinel/Reader

collab with my lovely wife @firstofficertightpants​

ya’ll im sorry lmao

You spend the rest of your evening doing exactly none of the errands that you needed to deal with today. Instead, you're laying on your couch and texting your friends.

         Y/N: I'm so tornnnn.

     Y/N: Do I say something about the cheek smooch?

     Y/N: Should I leave it be?

     Y/N: Because she's texting like nothing happened.

     Y/N: What if I'm reading too much into it??

     Y/N: What if that's just how she shows friendship affection???

     Y/N: I might make it so fucking awkward if I assume something!

     Y/N: This entire ordeal is mortifying!!!

     Y/N: I want nothing more than to dig a big hole and lie in it forever.

     Y/N: I might be low-key having a panic attack about this rn but what's new.

     Harper: Y/N. chill. you're way overreacting to this.

     Harper: even if it meant nothing, she still likes you as a friend right?

     Harper: i think it would take a lot for her to like.. not wanna stay friends lol.

     Alex: im just saying you could probably kiss her and she'd be ok with it

     Alex: cheek kisses are pretty forward

     Harper: don't listen to him. all of his relationships ended in failure.

     Alex: wow

     Alex: im seriously hurt

     Harper: am I wrong?

     Alex: no..

     Harper: my point exactly.

     Harper: i’m not saying you have nothing to lose or anything.

     Harper: because i myself had to tread very carefully with leah..

     Harper: but i think you should just see where it goes and not like

     Harper: put too much emphasis on this incase it was nothing.

     Y/N: Yeah see now you have me worried it WAS nothing!!

     Alex: oh my goooooooddddddddddddddd

     Alex: the both of you approach women so.. pathetically

     Alex: take a risk

     Alex: live a little

     Alex: what is seriously the worst that could happen

     Alex: she kills you??

     Alex: lmao

     Alex: its funny cuz of.. you know

     Harper: i can’t wait to be home and smothering him with a pillow instead of affection.

     Y/N: You and me both.

     Y/N: Try being the only one available to play games with him.

     Alex: both of you fucking love me okay

     Alex: alsooooooo i get to be home the day after tomorrow

     Alex: the alex is back, babieeeeee

     Y/N: Harper please come home I’m BEGGING you.

     Harper: sorry you gotta deal with him alone for another month lmao.

     Y/N: Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

     Alex: can i get a fucking crumb of love here please

         You swipe over to the couple of messages Spinel has left you in the past couple of minutes while you were talking to your friends.

         Spinel: It’s another stupid ball, I just found out.

     Spinel: I told her that I’m sitting this one out this time.

     Spinel: She has so many others that would absolutely love to help her, and yet, still absolutely insists that I must be there.

     Spinel: I don’t want to go back to homeworld right now, and not for this.

     Y/N: And you put your foot down? Hell yeah, dude.

     Y/N: Planning a ball for a bunch of gems sounds like a chore anyway.

     Spinel: oh, it is, believe me.

     Spinel: And they need everything to be PERFECT.

     Spinel: Which isn’t realistic anymore now that they don’t expect any of the gems to stay in line with their gem class nowadays.

     Spinel: The last ball they threw almost 4 months ago was utterly chaotic.

     Y/N: For thousands of years y'all as a race never pushed to deviate from the norm, and now that you guys are allowed to? I’d go batshit with it too.

     Y/N: Being stifled in everyday life, and finally you’re free?

     Y/N: Fuck, I’d go around fusing with anyone!

     Spinel: That is precisely what too many of them did.

     Y/N: Lmao. I wish I could’ve seen that.

         You tab back over to your group chat for a moment to see what they’re talking about.

         Harper: see? they’re everywhere.

     Harper: i wasn’t expecting the campsite to have so many.

     Alex: you could have built an army and instead you took pictures

     Alex: do you know how easy it is to lure chipmunks?

     Alex: oh that lil guy on the bottom right is so fucking chunky i love him

     Harper: that’s the one that got the closest when i fed them. :3

     Alex: oh i fuckin BET

     Alex: you dont get that chubby in the wild without takin a few risks

     Alex: if u know what i mean ;)

     Harper: i hate whatever you just implied.

     Y/N: It’s not a conversation with Alex unless you roll your eyes at least 3 times.

     Alex: hey i thought it was 4 times

     Alex: dont insult me

     Alex: anyway, y/n

     Alex: are you workin the day i come back

     Y/N: Yeah I’m actually scheduled a double.

     Alex: scheduled

     Y/N: Yes.

     Alex: a double

     Y/N: Yes.

     Alex: he can’t SCHEDULE you a DOUBLE

     Y/N: He can if he asks me ahead of time as a favor.

     Alex: that fuckin bastard

     Alex: always ruining my plans

     Harper: you’re still mad at him for firing you last summer, huh.

     Alex: OF COURSE I AM

     Y/N: Bro you stole like $300 of cotton candy sugar that summer.

     Y/N: It’s only fair.

     Y/N: Besides, I’m only doing this because he said he’d give me a long weekend for it.

     Alex: kay well

     Alex: i guess i’ll just go bug you at work and wait for you to get off that day :'(

     Y/N: Get me written up again, I swear to god.

         Your phone chimes several times, and you swipe down to see messages from both Spinel and Steven. You check Spinel's first.

         Spinel: Do me a favor and ignore any messages Steven has sent you.

     Y/N: What are you, my boss?

     Spinel: I MEAN IT

         You quickly switch over to Steven's texts.

         Steven: I was going to ask you if your date with Spinel went okay, but I'm assuming it went fine considering she hasn't really stopped talking about you.

         Ohhhh my god, this is wild. You reply to him.

         Y/N: It wasn't a date as far as I know.

     Y/N: I had fun.

     Y/N: She's telling me to not read your messages, lmao.

     Y/N: Also what do you mean she hasn't stopped talking about me??

     Steven: She’s been lying on my floor for the last hour basically gushing about you.

     Steven: But you didn’t hear that from me!

     Steven: :D

     Y/N: Haha thanks, kid.

         You switch back over to text Spinel, and get up off the couch to make yourself some tea. Pulling out your kettle, you turn the stove on and grab some raspberry flavored abomination tea bag that your dad loves more than any of the other good tea flavors.

         Y/N: Sooooo.

     Spinel: You talked to him, didn’t you.

     Y/N: Hahaha noooo. :)

     Spinel: The fuck did he say?

     Y/N: Absolutely nothing.

     Spinel: Seriously? I was sure he’d reveal something embarrassing.

     Y/N: Nope! You should probably get off his floor eventually, though.

         Your kettle goes off and you grab a clean mug, and pour the boiling water into it along with the tea packet. You look down at your phone, and grin.

         Spinel: goddammit.

         You let the bag steep for a little bit, and add in a small amount of sugar. Walking up to your bedroom you take a snap of Jellybean half lounging, half falling off the stairs and send it to Spinel. She replies with a couple heart emojis, and you wonder if Steven was the one to show her the proper use of them. You set your cup of tea down on your desk, and turn your computer on. It’s evening now, and it’s much too late to do anything left with the rest of your day productivity-wise, so you settle in on playing more minecraft. Your thoughts wander quite a bit, and you find yourself stuck on thinking about Spinel. Naturally. You wonder about a lot of things she’s learned while staying on earth, from things like - does she pay rent? Does she have a job? Does she know what taxes are? Does she know what a relationship with a human looks like? She said she watched a movie, but didn’t exactly elaborate. You don’t know what human-norms she’s been exposed to. You can’t even concentrate enough to mine any of this redstone for Alex, and you nearly die in-game when the thought of ‘does she know what sex is?’ pops into your mind. You grab your phone and shoot Spinel another message.

         Y/N: Quick question.

     Y/N: If you don’t mind me asking.

         It takes her a few minutes to reply.

         Spinel: Sure?

     Y/N: Do you know how humans are made?

     Spinel: w

     Spinel: Yes?

     Spinel: Steven told me about it a few weeks ago actually.

     Spinel: Why are you asking?

     Y/N: No reason! Just curious is all.

     Spinel: Hm.

         Yeah you’re not too confident that she actually knows, and you’re too chickenshit to elaborate right now. You’ll enlighten her later. You spend the rest of the night browsing memes on your phone, and texting your friends and Spinel on occasion. Before you know it, your eyes drift close with your phone in hand.

     You wake up when your alarm goes off for your morning shift, and curse at yourself for not charging it last night. It’s at a solid 32%, which isn’t really enough to go about your day, but you’ll have to make do. You get ready for a hopefully not shitty day, lock up the house, and head in to work.

     It’s a complete shitshow when you come in, and you turn your phone off to save battery and concentrate on dealing with more than an average amount of tourists. You find Mr. Smiley sleeping in the breakroom/office/supply closet, and have half a mind to lock him in there from the outside for the rest of your shift. It’s pretty busy, and messy, and it isn’t until you’re there for several exhausting hours that you finally have enough time for a break. You turn your phone on, and instantly you’re flooded with messages from several different people. Ugh.

           A couple from your dad - just checking in, really. Group chat too as usual, but none of it seems overly important. One from Spinel, and several from Steven. You open up Spinel’s message first.

         Spinel: Do you think we could talk about a couple of things later?

         Vague, and a little concerning. You text back an apology for getting back to her so late, and open the messages from Steven.

         Steven: Hey are you busy?

     Steven: I’m dealing with a bit of a situation right now, and could use your help.

     Steven: Spinel locked herself in my bathroom, and she won’t come out.

     Steven: She refuses to answer to anyone, and several of us have tried.

     Steven: I’m just really worried about her, and you guys seemed to bond, so I was hoping..

     Steven: That maybe you could come over?

     Steven: Thanks regardless.

         You check the timestamp, and that was over an hour ago. Jesus christ.

         Y/N: Steven I’m so sorry, my phone was off and I’m at work, give me a few and I’ll be right over, okay?

     Y/N: I’ll be quick.

         He replies almost immediately with a “please” and you pocket your phone. You try not to worry too hard about Spinel as you rush over to grab your things, and knock on Mr. Smiley’s office/broom closet door. He opens it groggily, clearly just waking up.

     “Yeah?” he slowly blinks at you.

     “I gotta leave early. Emergency.” You stare at him, trying to not be pissed at his lack of work ethic.

     “Are you for real? You’ve got another 3 hours left.” He says and crosses his arms, and you glare at him.

     “I’ve been working my ass off while you’ve been sleeping this whole time, AND I’m covering your ass tomorrow so you can go meet your old friend! So the LEAST you can do is let me go early when I have an emergency!!!” You almost yell out at him, and he holds his hands up in defense.

     “Okay, okay! Fine. Only because you’re a good worker.” He says, and has the gall to look at least a little ashamed of himself.

     “Damn right I am.” You spin around and head out of the building, practically running.

     You almost trip and bite it several times on the way over to Steven’s place, but you’re more worried about Spinel. You’ve only been to his place twice, but once you’re there you run up the stairs and open the door without knocking. You’re greeted by the only two people in the living room, Pearl, and Steven.

         “Oh, she’s here!” Pearl says and nudges Steven, who looks up from typing on his phone.

     “Y/N! Thank god you’re here.” He says with furrowed eyebrows.

     “What happened?” You say and shut the door, and cross the room over to him.

     “I’m not sure! We were just working on something together for Amethyst, and she got a call from Blue and Yellow. She’s been ignoring them lately, and they’ve been bothering me in turn because of that, so I asked her to take the call just see what they want.” He runs his hand through his brown curls, and just for a moment, you see that 12 year old him in again. The obvious stress masks just how young he really is, and you feel bad that he can’t live life like a normal kid. “She went outside to take the call, and was out there for quite a while. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I did hear some yelling. And just when I was going over to make sure they were alright, she comes back in tears, eyes spiraling like months ago, and nearly knocks Pearl over rushing into the bathroom.”

     “And nothing since?” You inquire, fidgeting with your hands.

     “No,” He says, frustratedly. “I’ve been trying to reach the diamonds to see what this is all about, but I’ve only been getting the pearls. I don’t know what to do. She hasn’t been like this in months. What were they talking about to make her this upset?”

     “Maybe I can find out. You said she’s in your bathroom?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

     “Yeah, the one right over here.” He says and points to it.

     “Is it locked?” You ask.

     “No,” Pearl glances towards the bathroom door and crosses her arms. “The lock has been broken on it for a while, since Peridot joined us actually. Both Garnet and I tried opening it, but I think once Spinel hears someone trying to come in she blocks the door.”

     Hm.

     “I’m gonna try something, but you guys are gonna wanna stay away.” You say to the two of them. “I don’t want to overwhelm her with more than one person.”

     “Let us know if we can do anything?” Steven makes to pass by you and gives your arm a light squeeze. “And thanks for coming to help.”

     “Anytime, dude.” You give him a half smile, and walk over to his bathroom. You turn to take a look back at the other two, and they’re already in the kitchen discussing something in soft tones. You move to knock at the door, make two light taps against the frame, and wait for an answer.

     A couple seconds pass, and nothing. Not even any movement. Nervously, you knock again, a little louder this time, and wait for a good ten seconds.

     Still nothing.

     You take a deep breath, reach out to grab the door handle, and very slowly and quietly open the bathroom door. You see nothing but absolute darkness, and step in. You feel around the wall to your right and flip a switch just as you close the door behind you with an audible click. The room instantly floods with the dark red light of the heat lamp, and before you can even think about finding another light source, you find yourself slammed up against the wall and let out a surprised yelp. You open your eyes to see Spinel’s face inches from yours, pupils wild, her hands splayed against your shoulders.

     “U-um,” Your voice cracks a little. “Hey.”

     You watch her eyes take a second to find yours, and almost instantly, she lets you go, arms trembling.

     “W.. what are YOU DOING HERE!?” She cries, large tears pouring down her face, eyebrows raised in confusion, mouth trembling. Her hair is in loose pigtails, strands untamed around her face, cheeks stained with tear tracks. She looks like a mess, and your heart breaks, just a little. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt y-”

     “I’m fine.” You cut her off. “I should have said who it was outside the door, I’m sorry. And um.. Steven texted me while I was at work, and told me what was going on so I rushed over..” You trail off as you watch Spinel’s entire body shake, and she covers her face with both of her hands.

     “I can’t believe I just did that.” You hear her wavering voice, muffled behind her fists, and she lets out a choked sob. “Maybe they were right. M-maybe I’m not meant to-” She quickly moves her hands down to look at the floor with wide, vulnerable eyes, and struggles to form the rest of her words. You hear her breathing pick up pace, and you’re starting to realize she’s hyperventilating.

     “Spinel, look at me.” Her eyes shoot up to yours, lips trembling. “I need you to breathe.” You do what your friends have always done with you, and gently grab both of her hands and hold them with yours, thumbs stroking her palms in slow circles. She freezes up instantly, and you’re about to panic, because while a familiar touch helps ground you, you register that maybe it’ll make it worse for her. But before you can pull your hands away, her hands relax ever so slightly, and she lets out a shaky breath. “Good. Just like that.” You motion for her to follow your breathing inverals, and she copies you, hands still shaking in yours.

     It’s been a while since you’ve had to deal with something like this, but you’re thankful for having similar life experiences. After a solid minute or two of this her breathing is back to a normal pace, but she’s still crying, and now not meeting your eyes. Almost like she’s avoiding them.

     “Look, I.. I don’t know what happened with you and the diamonds, but you can talk to me about it if you’d like. No pressure, though.” You give her hands a small squeeze, and she whimpers, looking up to meet your gaze. Tears are still actively streaming down her face, and you have no idea how to make any of this better. It physically hurts you to see her like this.

     “C-can I not talk about it? I don’t think I’m ready..” She pulls a hand from yours, and wipes at her face. She just kind of smeared half of her face with wetness, and she looks miserable.

     “You don’t have to talk about anything, Spinel.” You look at her, making sure she sees it in your eyes. You slowly let go of her other hand, and hold your arms out in a silent question instead. Her mouth opens slightly, the red glow of the light around her making her look extremely vulnerable and soft, and she looks at your open arms with a blank face for a moment before understanding. Almost instantaneously, she throws herself against you and wraps her arms around your shoulders, shoving her face into the cradle of your neck. You envelop your arms around her tightly, giving her sides a squeeze, and you feel her start to shake again.

     She lets out an unsteady sigh, and hiccups out another small sob. You pull her to lean fully against you as you stand there, bracing your back against the bathroom door. She lets you maneuver her, and you rest the side of your face against her temple while she cries. You resign yourself to letting her cry on you until she’s done, if she needs to.

       You feel her sniffle against your neck, and try not to mind that she’s getting your shirt soaked. You give her back a few gentle rubs, feeling her body quiver against yours as she’s trying to control her choked breathing. You’re not really counting the minutes, as right now you’re currently having way too many rampant thoughts about what the fuck the diamonds could’ve said to her. You’re mad as hell, honestly, and if you could say shit to them, you would in a heartbeat. You don’t want to make anything worse for her though, as much as you want to steal her phone and video call them to curse them out. It takes a few more minutes, but eventually her crying dies down, and you feel her breathing even out. Slowly, she dislodges her arms from twisting around you two, and you feel a sigh, her breath hot against your neck. You do your best to school your facial expression as you’re realize just how close you are to her, and she pulls her face from its resting position to look at you. She looks awful.

       “U-um,” She lifts up her hand to attempt to wipe her face, failing to rub half the tears away. “I don’t really want to go out there yet..”

       “You don’t have to.” You say, quietly. “I can leave if you’d like some quiet to yourself.” Her face looks panicked for a second, and she grabs your wrist.

       “Please don’t leave me.” She says, voice wavering again. You try not to let your heart shatter at her tone.

     “I won’t if you want me here.” You say, and sigh softly. “Here, hold on a second.”

     She lets your wrist go as you move slightly over to the sink, turn the hot water on, and grab a clean hand towel from the counter. You soak it in water, and squeeze out all the excess. Towel in hand, you turn back to her, and she’s looking at you cautiously. You lift the towel slightly, motioning to her face.

     “May I?” You ask, and she nods slightly.

     Tenderly, you brush a couple strands of hair away from her face, grasp her chin with your left hand and pull her forward, gently pressing the towel to her cheek. She closes her eyes, and her shoulders sag a little as she lets you dab at her face, cleaning her of any tear stain marks. She sighs into your touch, and it strikes you that it would be so easy to just.. lean in and kiss her.

       Your brain almost short circuits and you snap your thoughts back to reality. There’s a time and place for everything. This is not the time, nor the place.

       Once you’re satisfied that she looks a lot better than before, you pull your hands away to toss the rag in the sink, and Spinel, for a brief moment, looks disappointed that you had stopped. Which.. kind of gives you an idea.

       “Can I try something? Harper used to do this thing with me when I.. had similar breakdowns.” You ask her. She raises her eyebrow in response, clearly exhausted from crying so much. “Here.” You say, and take her hand and lead her over to the rim of the bathtub. You sit down on the edge, and motion for her to sit in front of you on the floor. She takes a seat in front of you, still confused, but obeys nonetheless. “Can I touch you?” You ask her, watching her face to make sure she’s alright.

       She looks up at you, the red light in the room flooding the entirety of her face, making her hair darker, and the whites of her eyes a bit more dramatic.

     “Yeah.” She says in reply, voice tired.

     You reach out to her hair, and stop for a moment.

     “Can I have you face the other direction, actually? Come over here.” You move to open your knees, making enough room for Spinel to turn around and lean against the bathtub. She’s close to you again.

     “What are you..” She trails off as you start to take the hair ties out of her pigtails, one after the other. It takes a second, as it’s a bit tangled, but you manage to get both out, and let her hair fall down. You comb out her hair with your fingers, gently, and she sighs audibly while leaning into your touch. You run your short nails along her scalp, scratching and massaging as you smooth out her hair, attempting to pull all the tangles out.

     “Touch used to calm me down, and Harper was really good at it, honestly.” You say while pulling out a particularly difficult tangle without hurting her. Her hair is long like this, and you like it. You wish you could grow your hair this long, but it’s kind of a pain to deal with, and the longest you’ve ever had yours wasn’t even to your mid back, you think to yourself. “Sometimes she’d give me shoulder and neck massages, but I preferred that she’d just play with my hair. There’s just something different about another person touching your hair.”

     “I kind of get what you mean.” She says, tiredly.

     “Can I braid your hair?” You lean closer to look at her face.

     “Do what you want.” She says, looking fairly relaxed.

     “Cool. Anyway, while Harper was good at that, Alex, on the other hand, was just terrible at any kind of physical comfort. He’s genuine, and he tries, but he’s an idiot. He’s a lot better at distractions, for the most part.” You run your fingers through her hair one more time, before starting to separate her hair into three parts for a french braid. “He’s funny, and comes from a large family, so he always has stories and jokes. Whenever I’d have a panic attack, those two were always so good about being there for me. I don’t know what I’d do without them.”

     You notice that Spinel‘s shoulders have lost most of the tension in them, and you’re secretly relieved. You keep talking to fill the quietness around you two, because you’ve always hated the quiet during moments like these. Your friends aren’t here, so it’s up to you to make up for it.

     “It was kind of hard, at first though,” You say, and start looping the chunks of hair around your fingers, starting at the top of her head. “Because for a while there, back when I was 16 and dealing with the worst of my abandonment issues, I clung onto Harper like a baby koala. I had this super weird crush on her even though we had been friends since we were practically babies. I think I idolized her because she was just.. good to me.” You accidentally tug a little too hard on a strand of hair, wince and utter an apology while massaging the spot on her scalp. “I’m glad that didn’t ruin our friendship, but for a while there I really pushed my feelings onto her, which was kinda fucked up on my part.”

     “Hm..” Spinel mumbles. “I kind of had a thing for Pink, I think. Which ended up screwing with me even more after what she did.” You stare at the back of her head and pause your hands for a second. Huh. Yeah, you had a hunch.

     “If she were still alive, I’d punch her in the face for you, I hope you know.” You state, in full seriousness. This gets the first chuckle that you’ve heard from her today, and you’re secretly overjoyed.

     “I’d pay to watch that.” She says, and you laugh out loud. You see her smile, just barely.

     “So,” You continue, with both your hands and conversation. “A week or so after my 17th birthday, right after Harper talked to me about this guy at school that she liked, I confess to her. And not like a, ‘oh hey, you’re my best friend and I really like you’ kind of way, either. It was more like a, ‘have a mental breakdown over your best friend liking someone else and make them feel like shit about it on your walk home from school’ kind of confession.” Your hands reach the nape of her neck now, braid mostly done on her head, but you’ve got around another 20 inches of length before being finished.

     “Harper avoided me for nearly a week after that. I was absolutely pathetic, and inconsolable. Alex was fed up with my shit after a few days, and nearly slapped me over it. He would’ve been in the right, doing so, honestly. I was a selfish asshole who only thought about her own feelings, and not about her best friends.” Your eyes drift to Spinel’s face, and her eyes are closed, eyebrows unfurrowed.

     “Anyway,” You’re nearly done with the entire braid now. “She did end up forgiving me. Thankfully. I don’t know what I’d do if it were my fault that I’d split up our friend group.” You pick up the discarded hair tie from earlier, and tie it around the end of the braid.

     “I’m all done, by the way.” You say to her. She opens her eyes tentatively, and she looks sleepy. You stand up, and stretch your back. She also gets up on wobbly legs, and turns to look at you.

     “Um.” She’s avoiding your eyes. “Thank you. For this.” She’s twisting her hands together, nervously. You lean your face closer to get at eye-level with her.

     “Anytime.. and for the record, you look really cute in a braid.” You say and smile, giving her a cheeky wink. You watch her entire face from the neck up turn bright red, and think that you could probably do this forever, and never get tired. She gives you a noncommittal grunt, halfheartedly smacks your arm and you grin at her.

     You hear a quiet knock at the door, and look over to Spinel. She shrugs, so I guess it’s okay now.

     “You can come in!” You say to the door. It opens slowly, and you see Steven peek his head in.

     “Um.. are we okay?” He asks, clearly very worried about her.

     “I’ll be okay.” She says, and you think that maybe she should lay down and sleep. You verbalize this immediately.

     “Spinel. I think you should go take a nap.” You look at her, and she blinks at you. “I’m serious.”

     “She’s kind of right.” Steven says in agreement with you. Spinel gives the both of you a shrug, and even that seems like it’s taking a lot out of her.

     “Okay.” She says, and turns to walk out of the bathroom. Steven opens the door wider, and you can see Pearl in the kitchen leaning against the counter, trying to not seem like she’s intently watching all of you.

     Spinel makes her way over to the couch and takes a seat, sitting up rigidly. You walk over to her to make sure she’s okay before you leave for home.

     “You know you can text me, right? And if you need me, I’ll be available. I’ll leave my volume turned on.” She gives you a nod. “Oh, and.. take this,” You say, and pull off the pullover hoodie you’re wearing right now, and hand it over to her. “Alex used to let me wear his oversized sweaters, and they used to help me sleep, so..”

     She tentatively reaches out, and takes it from your hands.

     “Thanks.” She says, and gives you a small smile. With her hair pulled back like this she almost looks human, for a fleeting moment. You sometimes forget she’s a gem. You return the smile back at her, and turn around to leave.

     After grabbing your bag that you set down earlier from beside the couch, you head over to the front door and open it. Shouldering the bag, you start to shut the door and see Steven behind you. He closes the door behind him, his face searching yours for something you don’t quite know.

     “I don’t know what you did, but thank you.” He says, completely genuine.

     “You don’t have to thank me. I’d do it for you, too, you know.” You say to him, and he smiles.

     “That’s why I like you, Y/N. You’re sweet.”

     “Yeahhhh, don’t tell anyone, though. You’ll ruin my reputation.” You smirk, giving him the side-eye. He laughs and pats your back.

     “Ohhhhhh no! Whatever will you do!?” He rolls his eyes in jest. “Get home safe, okay?”

     “No promises.” You reply, and jump down his steps, two at a time.  

     It doesn’t take you long to get home, and you’re pretty tired yourself. You make yourself busy by preparing dinner, cleaning the kitchen a little, and calling your dad for another check-in. Before you know it, it’s nearly 11, and you need to sleep for your double shift tomorrow that you almost forgot about. You’re laying in bed browsing social media before drifting off, and you receive a text from Spinel. You swipe down and open the message.

         Spinel: Thanks again for today.

     Spinel: I baked some new cookies with Steven, and would like to give you some tomorrow if that’s okay?

         You smile to yourself. Ughhhhhhhh, you’re catching the feelings disease, and you swat the air around you like it somehow physically manifested around you.

         Y/N: I work literally all day, but feel free to stop by and give them to me.

     Y/N: Then I get to see a pretty familiar face to break up all the lame tourists.

     Y/N: Cuz that sounds super nice. ;)

     Spinel: I’ll see you tomorrow, then.

         She didn’t react to your obvious teasing, but you won’t let that discourage you. You fall asleep thinking of the many different ways you can poke fun at her, and this time, you charge your phone.

     You wake up the next morning feeling well-rested for once, and get ready for work. Alex has sent you a couple texts about when his flight will arrive, and when he’ll roughly come to meet you. Sometime around 4pm, apparently. You shoot Spinel a good morning text, and she replies almost instantly with the same, which makes you smile.

     You head to work, texting your group chat about what happened yesterday with Spinel, and give them basically all the details. Alex makes fun of you for a bit, so you curse him out and pocket your phone as you clock in. Today’s going to suck, but you’ve got a few things to look forward to.

     You make it a couple hours into your shift before you finally get a break, and Spinel texts you that she’ll drop by sometime in the afternoon once she’s done helping Bismuth with something. God you hope it’s not when Alex gets here, because you are so not fucking ready for that interaction. You eat your lunch and pray to any god out there that you could have one more day of peace.

     You’re outside the main building repairing a couple parts on the carousel, ignoring the bulk of the tourists to focus on work. You don’t realize that quite a while has passed by, because someone walks up to you as you’ve got your head in a small door, and kicks you slightly on your ass. You jolt and bump your head against the opening, and you hear Alex burst out into laughter as you groan in pain.

     God fucking dammit, this guy. You pull your head out to glare at him, screwdriver pointing at him threateningly.

     “Do you want this up your ass? Because I can do that.” You say to him, and he laughs even harder. You roll your eyes at him.

     “Don’t promise me with a good time, Y/N.” He says, and you stand up to smack him.

     “I don’t think the pointy end would be a good time, idiot.” You deadpan stare at him. He grins.

     “You don’t know what I’m into.” He shrugs, and flips his hair dramatically. You hate that he’s stupid and charming, and you love him so much.

     “I know I haven’t seen you in 2 months, but like, I feel like you’ve grown taller?” You stare at him, a little mournfully. You’re the shortest one out of your friends, and you’re of average height. He also seems.. handsomer. You think he definitely got a lot more tan. He’s definitely grown into his looks, his dark curly hair and recently shaved face making him look older than you’re used to.

     “I don’t think I did, but I think you’ve grown shorter.” He laughs obnoxiously, and you smack his arm again, which makes him laugh harder.

     “You’re so mean to me, like all the time. Why do I love you?” You cross your arms and pout, because you know it gets a rise out of him.

     “Youuuuuuu knowww, because I’m just so loveable and gorgeous and the smartest one in the group??” He flutters his eyelashes at you like he thinks he’s cute.

     “Wow, you are none of these things.” You reply, smirking at him. He puts his hand over his heart in mock offense.

     “Y/N, I’m offended. I’ve been here for like, five minutes, and I’ve received absolutely no affection from you. If I don’t get love, I will wilt and die. Do you want to be responsible for my death?” He opens his arms wide, and you roll your eyes dramatically, and stand there.

     “We’re not doing this in public.” You say, standing your ground.

     “Ohhh, YES we are, Y/N.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Prepare yourself for the onslaught.”

     You take a couple steps back, prepared to run. He grabs your arms, wraps his around your torso, and picks you up, swinging you around.

     “Nooooooooooooooooo!!” You cry. “Put me down you oaf!”

     “No! I want love!” He all but shouts, and spins you around. He grabs your cheek with one hand and starts giving you big ‘ol smooches all over your face, and you’re giggling and trying to push him away, when you hear something drop and spill on the pavement a good twenty feet from you. You look up.

     It’s Spinel.

       Her face is twisted with heartbreak, and before you can even speak up, she bolts.

       You look down, and see the cookies she made you scattered on the ground.

[birdycurtains]

What about Tony being an old school horror director who feels like he’s about to be upstaged by Peter, a new horror director - think Blumhouse - and Tony, never having met him, both hates and fears him, until he bumps into him at a movie theater and hit it off until Peter introduces himself -des

this inspired me beyond belief, i have no idea why. i don’t think this was the direction you intended, but once i started i couldn’t stop haha. - birdy

He Calls Him Anthony

wordcount: 2,357

Friday nights were sacred. They were nights centered around going to see old movies at the IFC, and there was never to be a schedule conflict. Because that was one of the three nights he was awarded for seeing his daughter a week. 

And he would die before he didn’t take Morgan to see a truly good movie every Friday night. 

This night was Sunset Boulevard, he did always enjoy a good Wilder film, as did Morgan. Her twelve year-old self had mastered the art of the Norma Desmond gaze.

But here was Peter Fucking Parker, waltzing out of a showing down the hall. 

Morgan blearily leant into her dad's side as he attempted to speedily walk out of Parker’s field of vision.

It wasn’t that he hated Peter Parker, well maybe he did just a little. 

He was once that fresh face on the scene, basking in the limelight, being the true face of modern horror. 

But now his takes weren’t exactly fresh, and what the younger audiences were looking for. They wanted a twisted gore, with just this side of odd comic relief, that Parker had perfected while Pepper was serving Tony divorce papers.

So maybe he was envious, maybe he was just tired of everytime he attended a premier, or so much as breathed in the direction of the media, he was hounded with questions of what exactly did he think about Peter Parker?

In the beginning, he didn’t care or think much. But as trailer after trailer was put out, the movies being produced at a rapid rate while maintaining or increasing their following, even Morgan was asking her father if they could rent this, or if they could go to the cinema to see that.

And maybe he caved once, and with a hoodie, and sunglasses, a hat. For good measure of course. He went and saw one. With Morgan, because she insisted, and who was he to deprive her. 

It was good. And he resented Peter Parker for the same craft he held a torch for.

So here was Peter Parker, coming out of Casablanca. And making a bee-line towards him. 

“Mr Stark! Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark?”

God damn it. 

Tony willed his body to face the younger man. Morgan follows in suit, her eyes widening in realization, and proceeding to prod her elbow directly into her father’s side.

“Mr. Parker, well, nice to see you.” 

Tony could play nice, put on his ‘customer service’ voice, and act chummy with Peter Parker.

Although, the in-person Parker didn’t exactly match what he imagined.

This one wore thread-bare jeans, and converse that had seen better days, three years ago. 

He didn’t match the one he had seen plastered over last month's vanity fair, the pictures that had circulated his time-line a little more than his liking. 

They ran in the same circles, it wasn’t like he was actively looking for him.

“Gosh, Mr. Stark, it’s an honor to meet you really. Please, call me Peter.”

He was like a chihuahua that took a five-hour-energy-shot. 

His handshake was firm, and he slipped his glasses back up his nose as he collected himself. 

“I’m sorry for bothering you, but I thought I had seen you here before, I come here all the time y’know, every time they have a Rocky Horror showing, I’ve got tickets.” 

It was easy to catch that he was a New York native, unlike Tony himself. His Queens drawl interweaving between vowels and catching on to his r’s. It was rather cute, and personable. 

Did he just- Tony called him cute. Christ.

“My daughter and I like the classics.” He put simply smoothing down Morgan’s unruly strands. 

“Yeah, me too. I’m usually knee deep in everything going on right now, that to just enjoy the good ol’ stuff-”

He gave a dramatic sigh of pleasure, Tony felt his ears turn red.

 “That’s everything man. You would know of course. God, of course you know-  I mean”

The younger man cut himself short as he realized he was gripping Tony’s shoulder, his face and neck flushing red.

“I’m sorry- I’m probably taking up your family time. But, we should totally get together. Like talk shop or whatever?”

Peter flashed him the brightest smile, he swore the dim hallway was a little brighter.

“Yeah.”

The man was gone with a friendly wave as he jogged back to a small group of people, probably his friends, towards the exit.

Tony looked down at the ground and focused on his hand that hung limply by his side. On it was a chicken scratch phone number. 

Peter had written down his phone number. On Tony’s hand. 

And he hadn’t even noticed.

~

A few days later, Tony decides to grow a pair. He types the number into his phone, makes an individual contact for a Mr. Peter Parker.

He never thought this day would come. And he’s not sure the exact connotation behind that thought.

Does he call? Does he text?

In all honesty it has been a minute since he attempted friendship, or even communication outside of his usual social circle. 

Things had never been like this when he and Rhodey had initially become friends. Even the rest of his band of misfits had just happened naturally, never really taking this much preamble communication.

He texts.

~

They decide to meet at a small cafe around the NYU campus. Peter had said the place was quiet and usually uncrowded, one of his favorites.

Going against his gut, he trusts Peter and agrees.

Now here he is, looking presentable for the public eye, it’s a Monday. He’s just dropped off Morgan at school, and here he is. At another school.

“Anthony!”

He winces just the slightest, and is met with the vision that is Peter Parker at eight a.m. on a Monday morning. For someone so heavily criticized and praised in the public-eye, appearances must be everything on some level for the man. He doesn’t exactly aim to disappoint.

He looks so effortlessly cozy, dolled up in his black turtleneck and rust orange suede jacket, and those same glasses from the week prior perched against his brow bone. His hair looks soft, and his eyes are warm.

“Mr. Parker.”

That’s good. Set some boundaries, before you directly tell him he looks soft.

“I told you.” Peter sighs wistfully, wrapping his hands around a deep mug of hot chocolate? 

He looks up again with the same kindness and warmth.

 “Call me Peter.”

~

He invited him to dinner.

He doesn’t exactly know how it happened. It was somewhere between talking about how Peter had wound up picking up where his uncle left off, and how working as a barista in the cafe they were sitting in was Peter’s favorite job during college.

He could imagine a littler Peter, running around behind the counter making drinks and warming up scones. His open textbook to the left of the register, just like he described.

It made a fluttering in his chest somewhere, to know a personal and small detail of the Peter Parker. 

Not in a, I’m a huge fan of the Peter Parker.

But, in a, this kind young man, I am having the privilege of getting to know, kind of way.

The point is he invited him to dinner, at this high-end steak house he’s familiar with. A reservation for eight. 

It’s eight forty-five, and he’s on his second glass of red wine, Peter’s on his third.

Things are comfortably warm, they’re talking about Tony’s first movie, and how much of a shitshow it was, but the critics loved it.

The steak is amazing, they order dessert.

And he doesn’t budge or comment when Peter hooks his foot around his own. He only smiles softly, and watches Peter’s curious eyes watch as he brings a piece of poached pear to his mouth.

He hails Peter a cab at the end of the night, and Peter thanks him for dinner.

He calls him Anthony, once again.

~

Peter calls him this time.

It’s in the late hours of the night, and Tony, never really one for sleeping through the night anyway, has a lapful of script he’s reviewing, making sure it fits his artistic vision and what-not.

His voice is rough around the edges, a haze of sleep almost.

Tony wonders what it sounds like in person. If he were in bed next to him, or with him. Maybe with a lapful of Peter Parker, and not dialogue bleeding into his iris’.

He invites Tony over for Thursday night.

Peter knows the custodial schedule. That should mean something right?

He texts him an address later in the day. It’s in the Upper East Side, not too far from him, it’s in a cozy neighborhood of brownstones. 

Very Peter Parker.

~

Tony, will never understand Rocky Horror.

Peter had invited him when he arrived a little late, just five minutes, but he could see the worry drip off his shoulders as he greeted him at the door.

His home was a beautiful thing, filled to the brim with the most eclectic vintage interior, but it somehow matched.

He had learned from their meeting at the cafe, that Peter’s aunt owned a store that specialized in all things vintage and antique. It hadn’t surprised him to see it rubbed off on him.

In the downstairs parlor, it was decorated with dozens of Peter’s movie posters. Some were beta’s that Peter and an artist had worked on together. Peter flushed when he caught him staring. 

Tony would never get used to the fact that this Peter Parker was shy and not open about his work in his personal life, he liked to keep things very separate. 

He watched him put together a heaping bowl of kettle corn and followed him up a winding staircase, Peter remarked it was his favorite thing about the house.

He told him they were watching Rocky Horror Picture Show. 

Tony had never seen it in his entire life, he knew the cult following it had, but he couldn’t piece together that this is something Peter loved so much, but was so different from the direction he took with his work. 

He only smiled and agreed and saddled up with Peter on the pink floral couch. 

They’d never done this before, but it felt so familiar, like they had been through this scenario a dozen times, and it was just natural to lean into each other and fumble for the sugary popcorn between them.

It was around the scene when Frank N Furter was doing the backstroke with the rest of the cast in the swimming pool, that Tony realized their closeness.

How he had his arm wrapped around Peter, and Peter had just melted into his side.

The younger man must’ve felt the pressure of Tony’s gaze burning into the side of his face, since he turned his head to face him. 

It was all very cliche in this sense. 

A romantic scene directed and scripted and cast.

Except the love interests were him and Peter.

Peter kissed him first. That’s all he can clearly recall, the seconds prior being a blur of ‘is this actually happening’ to ‘it’s actually happening, do something’.

Finally the cognitive gears in his brain rekindle their function, and his lips are moving against Peter’s. He’s so warm and soft, he tastes like cinnamon sugar. 

Peter’s hands are grounding against his chest, holding him to reality, in any other case he would’ve drifted off somewhere because he has to be dreaming.

But this is real. And Peter’s real.

And, oh no. 

Tony gently pulls away from Peter’s grasp, and takes a breath. And Peter’s got this smile on his face like he won the grand prize at a carnival game.

“Peter- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. This is not going to happen.”

The smile falls faster on Peter’s face than the pit in his stomach.

There’s something hurt and cold in his eyes. The warmth is gone, and the guilt gnaws at Tony as he flees the Parker residence. 

~

It’s been two weeks since the Rocky Horror incident. 

Peter’s texted, and called. He believes he’s got Anthony all figured out. 

To be truthful he does. 

He had called Anthony out on his behavior six days ago, and hasn’t sent another message since.

Peter left a voicemail stating that Anthony wasn’t going to let himself enjoy something without finding an excuse for why he can’t. Peter wants this, and Anthony wants this, then that is all that matters. He is going to be filming at this location for the next two weeks, he can make his peace by showing up or not.

Tony stared at the message for ten minutes before Morgan told him to go get Peter.

She knew.

She always knows.

~

When Tony saw Peter again he was rushing past people ushering him to stop.

But Tony was on a mission, he felt like one of his main characters in the final leg of the movie, finally making it out alive, and this was the final call, where he would live to the credits, or the antagonist would leave no survivors. 

Peter was beautiful.

Even if he did look like Prom Queen Carrie at the moment. 

His hands and clothes were covered in fake blood, helping arrange the set to a T.

When Peter looked up at him, he knew he would make it to the credits.

His boy ran at him and swallowed him in his warmth. 

It was a pining, longing, and apologetic kiss, with bloody hands cradling Tony’s face.

“You’re dumb, and you hurt my feelings Anthony.” Peter whispered as he pulled away. 

“I’m sorry.” He replies, his eyes watery, insecurity wrung out like a rag, he wanted Peter and Peter wanted him. He chanted it a million times into the crook of Peter’s neck, just holding him. 

Peter pulled away and held him by his shoulders “It’s okay Anthony.”

He smiled that big beautiful warm smile of his, and pushed him away.

“Now. Get off my set. I’ll see you at nine, bring Morgan, they’re playing Psycho tonight.”

[inquisitorhotpants]

okay let’s just get this out of the way.

i didn’t like it.

If you liked it, I am honestly jealous of you! I wish I did. But I am really uninterested in any attempts to convince me to like it.

TROS review, with spoilers, below the cut

So I walked out of the theater very “meh” on it. Almost everyone else in my friend circle seemed like they loved it, so I ruminated on it for a couple days and came to a conclusion.

I’m not meh. 

I really, really don’t like that movie. I will likely never turn it on of my own volition.

These are not in any particular order, just as they come to me.

The pacing is absolute shit. 

JJ’s “Lost” buddies got more lines and screentime than Rose, an established character they promised was getting a bigger more impressive role in TROS. 

Everything important Rose did got cut. That lightspeed hopping Poe was doing? Rose worked it out. But I guess we didn’t need to know that.

There are more effective ways to communicate in a movie than having Poe stand around reciting exposition about things he shouldn’t know about, but clearly JJ Abrams is uninterested in any of them

So many unearned emotional moments that mean nothing to the characters but JJ slaps in there to mash the dopamine button because HEY REMEMBER THIS YOU GUISE

So just to be clear, Leia can fucking FLY THROUGH THE VACUUM OF SPACE but just mentally communicating with her shitty kid kills her, sure jan

Rey would have just fucking killed Palpatine if he’d just shut the fuck up but no

Someone banged Sheev Palpatine.

Who also managed to somehow survive the second death star FUCKING EXPLODING.

You had the chance to show a fucking sith cult and went with “have Poe recite exposition about a sith cult”

The universe shows up for Lando, but not Leia??? 

Do not get me wrong, i adore Lando! But I really feel like even Lando and Chewie would have been like, “what the fuck??” about this?

JJ Abrams is a fucking shit writer

Pretending everything in TLJ doesn’t exist - except for some halfassed R*ylo, apparently - is shitty

Rey felt grossly OOC this whole fucking movie.

SHE ABANDONED FINN ON THE GODDAMN DEATH STAR

In theory, the Palpatine thing could have been good in the right hands; JJ Abrams was not the right hands.

All it took for Kyle Ron to stop being a space fascist was thinking about his dad telling him to be nice? THAT’S IT? Well hell, why are we punching Richard Spencer when we can just ask his dad to tell him to be a good boy??

Why the hell did we bury the lightsabers on Tatooine? All Luke ever wanted was to get away from there. It meant nothing to Leia. It meant nothing to Rey. It was literally only there so that viewers could go OMG I LOVE ANH and get teary eyed

So after that frankly excellent acting where Rey tells Kyle Ron to leave her the fuck alone, we get heart eyes and “Ben!” and a fucking kiss? 

When she doesn’t even know who the fuck Ben Solo even is??

Neither do we because he has no fucking lines??

Finn is the glue that holds this fucking trio together and he’s reduced in half the movie to running after Rey. Gross.

We seriously took the member of the trio with the most established backstory and most filled in timeline in canon, played by a Latino actor ... and made him a former drug dealer. really? not a single person went “hmm maybe this looks bad”?

Fic writers will do hours of research so they don’t get something wrong in a PWP smutfic, and you can’t research Poe’s backstory for four seconds?

please enjoy your three minutes in each set piece, keep all hands and arms inside the screaming traincar at all times, and ... nowwww we’re going to slowwwww dowwwwwwwn so Rey and Kyle can Force Skype for no apparent reason

there are no actual stakes

“Chewie died!” just kidding

“threepio is gone!” just kidding

“we don’t have a fleet!” just kidding

“kylo ren, head fascist, is dead!” just kidding

“Final Order” is dumb as fuck

so much finnrey baiting

this covers the part about unearned emotional moments much better than i ever could 

Good thing Vader eliminated that galactic menace, amirite? oh wait

“closes the entire saga” hey jj you know there are NINE movies in the saga, right? cause there sure wasn’t fuckall about the prequels in there.

this “trilogy” doesn’t feel like one. at all. 

it’s so checkboxy. “they want r*ylo, check! no r*ylo, check! use that leia footage - shit we’re out, give her the weakest death imaginable. twin suns! palpatine! let hayden say a couple words so the prequels fans shut the fuck up! ‘everyone’ complained about rose, cut her out! cameos out the ass!”

The Knights of Ren were boring af.

rey gets no character growth

Are we just gonna make all the black folks in the movies related? Lando & Jannah already are, so do we get a short in a couple months where we find out Finn is his son and they’re all related to Mace Windu? 

It just felt very “i didn’t like your movie so i’m going to make 2 and 3 in one smashed together mediocre movie”.

I just cannot get past shit writing and shit pacing and a hack job at “homage”

Now i’m stuck looking at a hundred hot takes on twitter about how “this is ben solo’s trilogy! he’s the real hero! he’s the poor abused boy and no one else has ever had it worse in the entire star wars sagaaaaaaaaaaaa and how dare rey get everything while he was abused and neglected and had NOTHING” thanks jj

Y’all I love this cast and they deserved so much better than what they got from this trilogy.

I suppose there were a couple of things I liked.

the music was phenomenal, as always. Palpatine’s theme done in the style of Rey’s theme was great. 

space horses!

FINN FINN FINN FINN FINN

FORCE SENSITIVE FINN

the bickering scene. I got my hopes up after that. They were quickly disappointed as Rey quickly went off into OOC-land

Dark Rey and that little snarl at the end

I thought the new force powers were cool af. It’s about time we do something with the Force beyond jumpy jumps, zoomies, and the jedi mind trick

I’ve only known D-0 for 4 days but if anything happened to him ... you know the rest.

i actually enjoy the theme of “you are not your bloodline” but it was done so much better by Claudia Gray.

Anytime the trio was together was good.

As much as I am super “eh” on Kyle Ron as a character, I appreciate Adam Driver as an actor, and the scene where Rey passes him the lightsaber and he does that little shrug with the smirk, that was good. I liked that quite a bit. 

The problem is that cool setpieces do not a good movie make.

I started The Witcher the day after I went to the movie, purely to stop thinking about this shitshow of a movie, and that show is great. xD