#there was also another guy in that flat who would do shit loads of drugs on nights out and then run around banging on doors until 6am

[branmer]

remembering all the deranged flatmates ive ever had and the top title still goes to the guy who a) wouldn't let anyone use the drying rack sitting on the draining board because it was HIS drying rack, which meant no one else in the flat except him could leave our dishes to dry and b) insisted he was the cleanest person in the flat while hoarding dirty dishes in the sink cupboard to the point where they were fouling and finally c) would rant loudly and angrily late at night about how 'bitches' were out to get him

[ragingbookdragon]

What If The Love You Deserve Is Love You Never Find?

Jason Todd x Reader

Word Count: 3.6K Warnings: Explicit Language, Slight Angst

Author's Note: I spent like an hour going through my music to find the perfect song lyric for this. Love me people. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

It’d been complete fate that she’d even met him. A chance of looking up when she was fixing a shirt on a display, gaping as he browsed the racks along the wall, very so often picking something up to examine it before folding it and returning it to its original position.

But even from halfway across the store she could tell he was drop-dead gorgeous, and she slapped the back of her hand across her coworker’s chest. “Dibs.” It was all she said before hurrying towards him, grinning when she heard her friend groan something along the lines of, ‘No fair!’

She cleared her throat as she neared him and he glanced over, giving her a smile. “Good morning,” she greeted. “How are you today?”

“I’m good,” he replied. “How are you?”

“Well, every day is a new day.” She grinned when he laughed. “Is there anything I can help you find, or are you just looking around?”

“Oh, I’m just looking around.”

Nodding, she said, “Alright, well since summer break just started our sales are everything along this wall,” she gestured to the side next to her. “It’s buy one get one free, and so is that wall over there.” She pointed to the other side of the room. “Everything in between is buy two get one free.”

“Sounds good.” He murmured.

“And I’m (Y/N). So if you need any help with anything or want an opinion on anything, just come find me!” she smiled at him and wandered off back towards the registers where her coworker was, and was promptly slapped in the side, causing her to gasp slightly.

“What’s his name and how much money does he make?”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh. “I didn’t ask.”

“You didn’t—you didn’t ask? Why not?” she griped. “That guy’s wearing a Rolex! He’s probably loaded.”

“It could also be a knockoff,” she shot back. “Besides, you gotta wait it out.” (Y/N)’s eyes followed him as he looked up and down the wall of shirts and jackets. “If he comes and asks for help, then he’s interested.”

Her coworker rolled her eyes. “You say that about everyone and they’re only always coming to ask for purchase.”

(Y/N) shrugged. “It’s gotta work one day.”

“You’re hopeless.”

“Probably. But at least—”

“Excuse me,” someone interrupted and they both spun around to see him standing there, a smile on his face as he looked at (Y/N).

“Yes?” she chirped, flashing him a pearly white grin.

“I was wondering if you could help me pick out an outfit?” he asked, and she nodded.

“I’d be glad to help,” shooting her friend a wink as she followed him back towards the wall. “So, is there a particular event you’re going to that calls for a new outfit?” she inquired, taking in the sight of him.

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m hanging out with a couple friends later tonight.” He glanced at her. “Wanna show off, you know?”

(Y/N) giggled. “I totally know what you mean.” She crossed her arms. “Alright, well, let’s start with the easiest thing. Favorite colors?”

“Red, white, black, gray, and teal.” He replied.

“Hmm…boots or sneakers?”

“Boots.”

“Jeans or khak—”

“Jeans.” He interrupted with a scandalized expression.

She giggled again. “Just being thorough.” (Y/N) looked him over. He was tall, extremely built and God, his face was beautiful. Strong jaw and cheekbones, tanned skin and dark hair with a small white patch in the front. And his eyes, oh, his eyes were the prettiest teal.

“See something you like?” he flirted with a smirk and she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, don’t be cocky, I was just beginning to enjoy this.” He chuckled and she hummed. “I can see you like wearing jackets in eighty degrees so I’m gonna assume you’re more of a ‘suffer the pain for the aesthetic of the look’ type of man?” he nodded. “Okay, you a hoodie or sweatshirt guy?”

He paused, eyeing the displays and remarked, “I’m more a leather jacket type of man.”

(Y/N) nodded. “I can work with that.” She started up the wall. “Based on your body type I’m going to assume you run between a large and an extra-large.” Pausing, she eyed his hips. “Your pants size is probably a large.” She handed him a pair of dark blue jeans and he looked them over.

“Did you just give me jeans with bedazzled-shit on the back pockets?”

She cracked a grin. “Embrace your inner punk rock star, babe.” Shoving a crimson V-neck in his arms, she followed it with a pair of matte-black military style combat boots. “Black or tan leather?”

“Mmm…I have a tan at home,” he murmured, and she nodded.

“Black it is then,” (Y/N) decided, handing him a black leather jacket that closely resembled a bomber style jacket with a gray hood attached. She spun and stepped up to him. “Do you wear jewelry?”

“Mhm,” he said and turned his head. “Got my ears pierced a while back.”

“Have anything against religious imagery?”

He gasped. “And be blasphemous? I would never!”

She chuckled and wandered around a display, picking up a set of small silver earrings with crosses dangling on them, then she handed him a silver block necklace with the engraving, ‘Stay the course, for horizons are chased, but never caught’, and a silver wallet chain. “Your belt is black but I’ve half a mind to find a silver belt buckle to go with it.”

“But I digress,” she said, waving her hand before coming behind him, gently shoving him to the dressing room. “Off you go!”

He laughed, disappearing into the dressing room and she looked over at her coworker, giving her a mouthed, “Oh. My. God. He’s. Hot.”

“Tell me about it!” her friend mouthed back.

“And he smells like heaven!” (Y/N) returned, smiling when the curtain shifted, and he stepped out. Immediately her jaw dropped, and she breathed, “Holy shit.”

He chuckled, sending shivers down her spine and ran a hand through his hair, an action that made her stomach flip when he looked at her with those gorgeous teal eyes. “I take it I’m looking good, huh?”

All she could do was nod and mumble, “I’ll say.” She walked over and gently drug him to the giant mirror on the wall and turned him round so he could see himself. “You’re gonna knock your friends and half the people in this city dead the second they lay eyes on you.”

He reached up and adjusted the silver necklace before tugging at the jacket. “I like it.”

“I’m glad you do,” (Y/N) said, internally sighing in relief. “You’ve got everything for the deals, so let’s head to the register and make this happen, if you’re ready.”

“After you.” He replied, and she waltzed around, tapping at the register when he held up a hand. “Gimme just a minute.” She nodded, watching as he wandered to the displays and plucked a black backpack off the rack and shoved his old clothes and shoes in it, then he picked up a silver ring and slipped it on his finger. He walked back over. “Had to finish off the look.”

(Y/N) smiled. “Well, you’ve picked up two items, so you’ll have to find one more for the deal.”

He leaned his hip against the counter and shot her a flirty grin. “How ‘bout I buy the backpack and the ring and I get your number for free?” she blinked in shock and he added smoothly, “Never know when I’ll need help with another style.”

Her coworker was nudging her in the ribs but all she could do was try and horribly fail at hiding the grin as she rang up his total and flipped over the receipt, quickly scribbling her number down. She handed it to him, and he took it. “Thank you—”

She tugged a little and murmured, “You are going to let me style you for beach days, right?” her eyes followed down his body. “I’d love to help you pick out a nice pair of swim trunks.”

He smirked. “Well I was hoping to ask about underwear too, but I could probably throw in swim trunks as well.” Pulling the receipt from her fingers, he said, “Name’s Jason, by the way.”

“Well, have a good day, Jason.” She flirted, waving as he walked off.

Her coworker shoved her elbow into her ribs, and she gasped. “Holy fuck, it actually worked, and you just scored a really hot fuck.”

(Y/N) sighed dreamily. “Yes, I did.”

***

One “styling” turned into multiple “stylings” and many, many phone calls which turned into brunch and dinner dates with Jason. Which she strictly went to under the belief of styling said man, because falling in love with him spelled heartbreak and she knew it because there was no way someone like him was interested in her at all.

And yet, no matter how much she tried not too, (Y/N) found herself slipping deeper and deeper for him. It scared her, but she figured the easiest thing to do was to get him out on a date of her own and set the line before it was crossed. Which was how she found herself dressed in a 1950’s style floral dress with matching flats with her hair and makeup done, waiting underneath the cherry blossom tree in the Gotham City park.

She brushed her fingers over the fabric at her knee for what seemed like the millionth time, heart fluttering in her chest as she watched the people walk by. A few people had come up to her, either to compliment her outfit or ask her who the picnic was set up for. Jason had texted that he’d be there soon and (Y/N) hoped it would be right then because if she had to tell another guy to scram, she was going to pick everything up and haul ass.

Shaking her head, she focused on the poetry book in front of her, reading over another prose when she heard, “(Y/N)!” She looked up, seeing Jason hurrying towards her, three books in his arms.

She laughed and stood up, meeting him halfway. “Jay, I said bring one book not three.”

“I couldn’t pick. I love Emily Dickinson just as much as I love Walt Whitman and John Keats.” He retorted, setting the books down on the blanket before taking her hands in his, pushing her out to take in the sight of her. “Wow,” he breathed. “You look beautiful, doll.”

(Y/N) flushed, smiling shyly. “Yeah, well…you said something about the fifties, and I had this in the closet.” She nodded to the blanket. “I hope you’re hungry.”

His stomach rumbled in response and his cheeks tinted pink as he sat down. “You didn’t hear that.”

“Hear what?” she repeated with a grin, opening up the basket. “Okay, so I went a little overboard with the food, but who cares.” He chuckled, watching as she pulled out a couple bowls and a tray, then set out two plates for them and some silverware.

“What’s in these?” he asked, opening the lid to one of the bowls. It looked like some kind of pasta salad.

“That one is a BLT pasta salad and the other is fruit salad.” She started unraveling the foil from the platter. “And these are chicken Caesar pitas.” (Y/N) put one on his plate. “I made four just in case you wanted more to eat.”

Jason’s face lit up at all the food and he met her gaze. “You did all this for me?”

(Y/N) smiled and nodded. “Yeah…I hope it’s not too much though.”

“Not at all.” He looked around. “But I do hope you got something to drink in there.”

She giggled and handed him an insulated, stemless wine cup before pulling out a bottle of rosé. “Of course.”

“Thank you, doll,” he said as she poured them their drinks, then he raised his cup. “To us.”

(Y/N) clinked her cup to his. “To us.”

And that slowly turned into the food being eaten and the wine being drunk which ended up with Jason’s head in her lap as he read them his favorite poems, her fingers gently carding through his silky hair. At one point, he’d rested the book on his chest and simply closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her massaging his scalp. And (Y/N)? She was trying to keep her heard from beating out of her chest.

“Jason?” she murmured softly, and he hummed in return. “Is this real?”

He huffed a laugh and opened his eyes. “Yeah, (Y/N), I think the sky is real.”

She didn’t laugh, merely offering a halfhearted smile towards the open park. “No, Jason, this…us…how you are towards me. The flirting and the touching.” Her eyes were trained on the grass because she could feel his teal gaze boring into her, and if she looked down at him, she knew she’d lose her edge. “I…feel like you care about me…more than a good friend would.”

Swallowing, she assured, “It’s okay if it’s a no…but I wanna know now just to be sure.” (Y/N)’s voice quieted considerably. “It’ll get messy if we don’t figure this out here.” She went silent, refusing to look at Jason as he rose out of her lap and shifted until he was sitting beside her, their thighs brushing against one another.

His hand gently cupped her cheek and he murmured, “Yeah, it’s real. How we feel for each other.”

“Really?” she blinked. “Because you and me? I didn’t wanna assume but I—”

Jason pressed his lips to hers, effectively silencing her and she all but melted into him as she looped her arms around his neck. He smiled against her lips and with his free hand, gently pushed her down onto the blanket, the right side of his body resting on hers as he kissed her.

When they pulled away, he rested his forehead on hers, quipping, “I think you assumed rightly, doll.”

“Jason?” (Y/N) asked.

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me again.”

“Yes ma’am.”

***

That single date morphed into something deeper between them, and she could tell Jason was holding back a bit. He was open to love, to having a relationship, but something told (Y/N) that all of the ones he’d ever had either ended in disaster or mutual termination.

That being said, Jason was nothing but a loving boyfriend to her. He was everything that romance books and movies were based on. The guy every girl wanted to be with and (Y/N) had no idea how she got so lucky, but she wasn’t going to question it for fear of waking up from whatever dream this was.

And the first time Jason invited her over to his apartment a few months after they got together, she wasn’t sure who was more nervous about it, but she could tell they were both walking on eggshells around one another, all throughout dinner and when they finally decided to turn in for the night.

She opened the door to the bathroom, letting the steam escape as she stepped out. “Bathroom’s yours.” Jason gave her a quiet ‘thank you’ and moved inside, shutting the door rather quickly.

(Y/N) sighed and sat down on the bed, staring at the door. She couldn’t, for the life of her, figure out why he was uncomfortable with her there. Not wanting to keep the atmosphere going, she rose from the bed and wandered to his closet door, shooting a quick glance towards the bathroom. The shower was still going, and she smirked, opening up the closet.

Jason’s wardrobe was a mixture of T-shirts and leather jackets and suits, and his shoes were either boots or sneakers. All dark, all silk or cotton. She stepped inside the walk-in closet and drew her fingers along the fabric, stopping when she felt a thicker jacket. Bingo. (Y/N) tugged it off the hanger. It was Jason’s red sweatshirt he wore all the time. She practically had to beg him to get out of it when she wanted to put him in something new—he wore it like it was his second skin.

Slipping it on, she slipped back into the bedroom and quietly shut the door just as the shower shut off. Momentarily panicking, she hurried over to the window and leaned against it, staring out at the traffic below. The bathroom door opened and (Y/N)’s heart slammed into her rib-cage when she heard Jason’s breathing stutter when he saw her.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she murmured. “Got a little cold.”

His footsteps padded behind her and his hands rested on her hips. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you that snooping in people’s personal belongings isn’t very nice?”

(Y/N) leaned back against his chest, head propping on his shoulder giving her enough space to see his face. “No, but she did teach me to put my big girl panties on when my boyfriend won’t grow a pair.”

Jason cocked a brow, fingers digging into her hips as he challenged, “Is that so?” he tugged her back, pressing his front into her back. “And what exactly am I not growing a pair about?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged. “But something’s bugging you and it’s really screwing with our mood.”

He held her gaze for a moment, then he sighed and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I…gotta tell you something, doll.”

(Y/N) blinked and spun around in his arms. “Please don’t tell me you cheated on me.”

“What? God no!” he blurted. “No, I didn’t sleep with anyone.”

“Then what’s the problem?” she asked, reaching up to cup his cheeks. “You can tell me anything, Jason. I’m not going to get upset.” They stared one another down and he sighed, pulling away before heading to the bed. “Gonna show me you’re a eunuch or something?”

Jason barked a laugh. “You’re hilarious, doll.” He reached under the bed and pulled out a locked box. Setting it on the bed, he pressed his thumb to the little printer, and she watched as it flashed green and the locks flicked. He opened the case and (Y/N)’s eyes widened when she saw the gear inside, the guns on either side of the box, the suit in the middle, and the red helmet sitting on top of it.

“I wanted to tell you sooner, but I wasn’t sure how.” He whispered. “I guess I was scared what you’d think.” (Y/N) said nothing but she reached for the hood and picked it up, taking a seat on the bed as she flipped it over in her hands, examining it.

“Scared of my opinion…or scared of you?” she hinted, and he looked at her from where he knelt, a mix of emotions crossing his mind.

He shook his head and shrugged. “Both.”

She held the hood and with her free hand, gently caressed the lines of it, explaining, “Four years ago, my life was saved by Red Hood.” Jason’s head shot up and he gaped at her. “I was still in high school, coming home from prom when I got in a car accident with my best friend. We were hit by a drunk driver.”

(Y/N) looked at him. “The other driver was DOI, and my friend was unconscious and bleeding severely…I was awake but had broken my femur and clavicle…I couldn’t move, and I was scared.” Her fingers twitched along the cheek of the hood. “And then this mysterious masked man broke the lock on the door and cut my seat-belt. At first I thought he was going to hurt me because he looked menacing.”

She smiled. “But he grabbed my phone in the floorboard and called nine-one-one and then held my hand until an ambulance showed up.” (Y/N) gazed at him. “He kept saying I was going to be okay and that he wasn’t going to leave until I was in a bus and on my way to the hospital.”

Picking the hood up, she leaned over and put it on his head, watching as it beeped and lit up. “Later I heard on the news that he’d been responsible for the gang war between Black Mask and the drug dealers…but he’d successfully managed to get some of the school areas out of poverty and drug usage. And he’d killed a lot of bad people who didn’t deserve to be around.”

(Y/N) pressed her lips to the forehead of his helmet. “I was never scared of you, Jason. Then or now.” He put his head down and she merely smiled softly when he reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing tightly.

They stayed that way for a while until he shifted and pulled the hood off, setting it back in the box. “Thank you, (Y/N),” he whispered, and she nodded, gently brushing her fingers through his hair.

“Of course.” She tugged at a strand and he looked over at her, seeing her eyes solemn. “Just promise me you’ll be careful from now on, and that you’ll come back in one piece.”

Jason snorted. “Will do, doll.”

“Good,” she nodded, then happened to look back in the box. “So…this might not be the best time but…how do you feel about I don’t know…putting the suit on when we go to bed?”

He huffed a laugh and rose, shoving her back onto the bed. “Well, well, Miss (Y/N), aren’t you a kinky vixen.”

“I can’t help it, Jason. Red Hood’s a pretty sexy guy.” She winked. “Say…wanna play cops and robbers sometime?”

“You’re something else,” he purred, and she wiggled underneath him.

“Don’t I know it, babe.”

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

How Bad is Sia’s “Music” really?

I watched it illegally (because there was no way I was paying for that bullshit) and found out. It’s not as bad as we thought... It’s worse.

TW for ableism, Sia, drugs, alcohol, just in general a terrible movie, meltdowns, blackface

Literally the first thing you hear while they’re showing the production companies is THOSE stereotypical noises. If you’ve seen the trailer, you’ll know what I mean.

And yes, she does this for the WHOLE fucking movie

What was the need to show her in her underwear? Maddie Ziegler was 14 when this was made, so what was the need??? And why did Sia prolong the scene by having her hitting herself?

Less than a minute in and my reaction was already “what the fuck is this shit?”

So the opening number not only had stereotypical exaggerated facial expression, it has Maddie in BLACKFACE?!? And with culturally appropriated hair?!?

The exaggerated facial expressions are literally constant and I took photos during the film to show it, more later, but I’ll keep mentioning it

ITS LITERALLY THE WHOLE FUCKING TIME SHE IS ON SCREEN

Even her way of walking is fucking offensive, Jesus Christ

The vocalisations just had me cringing so hard, I cannot describe how awful it made me feel

Why do all the neighbours need to be paid off and help her when she goes for a walk? I don’t-

Yes, by about the five minute mark I was already seriously debating all my life decisions. It was that bad.

Kate Hudson really didn’t give a fuck that her grandma died

I will keep saying it but WHY are the facial expressions/vocalisations CONSTANT?!! Literally they do not stop at all. I work with a child who is actually similar to this in that he’s nonverbal and he makes similar noises/faces, but the way they’re in this movie is so over-exaggerated?!? And even the kid I work with doesn’t do it 24/7?!?

Sia, calling your characters Zu and Music doesn’t make them interesting in the slightest. They’re still painfully terrible and one dimensional

Literally ONE minute after being left alone with her autistic sister, Zu calls the mental health service asking if they could “theoretically” “pick up” her sister?!? Like she wants to get rid of her already?!?

“A magical little girl” - autism isn’t a magical power?!? And Music is a young woman, not a little girl?!? Why are you infantilising her?!?

Okay I’m not being funny but this choreography is NOT hard. ANYONE can do it, so claiming that you needed to hire a dancer to be Music because of the numbers is literally bullshit (and even so, there are so many amazing autistic actors and dancers?!?)

20 minutes in and I wanted to give up

So she had her first meltdown because her hair didn’t get braided immediately and that’s... certainly interesting??

The fact that Leslie Odom’s character says “I’m going to crush you now”?!?

AND THEN HE FUCKING PICKS HER UP AND FULL-BODILY PINS HER DOWN ONTO THE FLOOR

“I’m crushing her with my love” - oh fuck you, just fuck you

So Sia lied, the restraint scenes were NOT removed and there was no warning. She’s a fucking POS liar

I have no idea why he’s called Ebo or why he has such a cliche African accent?!? I might have missed out on why because I was busy trying not to bang my head into the table while I watched this film but just... yikes

“He (his brother) liked to be held” - YEAH, HELD. NOT FUCKING CRUSHED

“He is dead now” - IM NOT FUCKING SURPRISED IF YOU CRUSHED HIM LIKE THAT

The constant babying and patronizing of the autistic character is so exhausting to watch. I’m so tired

“Planning on sending her to the people pound but I guess I’ll keep her a little longer” - SHE WAS JOKING BUT THAT WAS NOT EVEN REMOTELY A FUNNY JOKE. NOT EVEN IN AN AWKWARD WAY

STOP THE FACES IM-

^ YEAH, Sia, totally a fucking love letter to the autistic community here ^

So Zu finds this necklace she made as a kid that had a little dog on it, and she says to Music, “He had seizures too, just like you”... MELTDOWNS AND SEIZURES ARE NOT EVEN REMOTELY THE SAME FUCK THIS MOVIE-

It’s like Sia is trying to make the movie funny but it’s really not at all

Is Zu implying that Music is autistic because the mum was a junkie?!?

For real though, the dialogue in general is so fucking awful and cringey. Whoever wrote this should never be allowed to write again

Did she seriously leave her autistic sister alone to talk to who I’m presuming was her dealer or loan shark?!?

Also why is he - a white dude - wearing cornrows?!?

So who is the film really about? The autistic girl or the older sister saviour? I think we all know the answer to that one

WHY IS SHE WALKING AROUND WITH HER TEETH JUTTING OUT LIKE THAT ALL THE TIME

The musical numbers are literally so painful to watch. The overly bright colours, the flashing... my eyes were hurting and so was my brain

Autism representation aside for a second, the musical numbers/choreography are all fucking atrocious. Ditto for the costumes

LIKE WHAT THE FUCK WERE THE PINK OOMPA LOOMPA FRUIT THINGS?!? THEY LOOK LIKE THE PINK VERSIONS OF VIOLET BEAUREGARDE THE BLUEBERRY

I wanted to cry by this point, this movie is far more awful than I thought

“I’m not saying she doesn’t want to change, I’m saying she can’t” - FUCK YOU. Why is it okay for him to assume what she can or can’t do

Can I just say that autistic people aren’t constantly in a coked up wonderland state?!! We don’t see the world as a wonderland fantasy world 24/7?!!

“She can hear you from two rooms away” / *shows her listening through two brick walls to a conversation* — Also, we don’t have super fucking sonic hearing?? WE CANT HEAR THROUGH FUCKING BRICK WALLS?!?

“She can understand everything you’re saying to her” - she’s autistic not fucking deaf

Less than 45 minutes in, there’s another meltdown in the park

“I’m not climbing on top of a small screaming white girl in public” - yeah please fucking don’t

So Zu fucking pins her down with her weight 🤦‍♀️

“She doesn’t know who she’s hitting” - IM SORRY WHAT

EBO LITERALLY SAID “TREAT HER LIKE A BEAR” when talking her through the prone restraint, I fucking CANNOT

“Tell her she’s safe” - NOT IF YOU FUCKING RESTRAIN HER LIKE THAT SHE IS NOT

The fact that she gets up, smiling and happy after a meltdown and immediately is excited to get a snow cone... I can honestly say that after a meltdown, I am in no way happy or smiling. I am often not very verbal and I’m withdrawn/not myself for at least several hours, usually the rest of the day. Fuck this film

This film is literally just about Zu, and Music is there for a plot device to give her character development. That’s all she’s there for.

Love how Sia shoehorned Zu being suicidal in there. You know, just to try and make her more easy to sympathize with (it doesn’t work)

This film is literally just a 1 hour 47 minute Sia music video with ZERO plot

WHY WERE THEY WEARING PILLOW DIAPERS IN ONE NUMBER-

I really did not feel into the side plot with that guy who was fighting but it was still better than the actual movie so...

I am SO DONE with the NON STOP CONSTANT vocal shit. So tired.

LOJ’s only role in this film is to be the stereotypical wise black guy who assists a white woman’s story. There’s like hardly any other depth there

The Ebo/Zu romance is so fucking stupid and pointless and out of NOWHERE. I couldn’t even tell if they were into each other or not

I was already so bored of the musical numbers by this point. They added NOTHING to the plot but they pretended they did, and I was so over it. And it’s not because I’m not “creative enough” or anything to understand, I love musicals and I think it could have been cool if done right... but it wasn’t. They were a mess. It’s just bad.

Sia really tried to pretend her movie was deep but really it’s a shallow mess

So Zu is meeting rich drug clients and says to Music “try not to have one of your freak outs up there” and “if you could try to get it out now”... FUCKING YIKES. It’s not an on/off button, shut the fuck up

YEP THIS WAS THE SIA CAMEO FUCK THAT BITCH

The fact that she just calls “DRUG DEALER?!? DRUG DEALER IS THAT YOU”, fucking end this please-

I fucking hate this bitch I’m dead serious

“We’re gonna send them to Haiti cause there’s been an earthquake. All these buildings fell down, children’s bones were dislocated” - WHY WAS SHE SO CHEERFUL ABOUT IT

“Gonna buy a shit load of pain meds, gonna but them on my private plane” - FUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOU

“Pop stars without borders” - Sia thinks she’s so clever but I would give anything to punch her I swear-

ANOTHER MUSICAL NUMBER JUST STOP IM BEGGING YOU

There’s this awkward conversation/bit with Zu and her drug dealer/loanshark about his outfit that was clearly meant to be funny but was just flat and painful

Yep, Sia really showed Music eating chewing gum off the underside of a park bench. Of course.

Look, the kid I work with does similar stuff by putting literally anything and everything in his mouth but like... why would you put that in your movie?

And there’s no indication before this that Music puts everything and anything in her mouth, she just randomly decides to get on her knees, under the bench and eat chewing gum, like she calculates that it’s there and gets it???

She has a THIRD meltdown after an allergic reaction to a bee sting and her sister just yells at her before realizing... I’m not here for this movie, I feel like I drifted off and was not really there

So Zu got angry because she left the drugs at the park but she’s not that upset that her sister had an allergic reaction???

Zu gets absolutely drunk because a) she lost Sia’s drugs and b) she’s stressed out by her autistic sister... wow, great message, Sia!

She really fucked off and left her sister alone to go clubbing/on a bender

The less said about the musical number here the better

Sia’s movie also checks the box of having stereotypical Asian parents, specifically stereotypical Asian dad being harsh/angry and hitting his wife!

ALSO HE PUSHED AND KILLED HIS SON WTF IS HAPPENING

Less than 3 minutes after the last, there’s a musical number that I think was about this side character going to heaven... another shitty Sia-esque number

The patterns during the number made my brain hurt.

Also there are so many autistic actors who can also dance, and yet Sia chose the neurotypical one because ✨ N E P O T I S M ✨

I just want to know how it was deemed necessary to show the fact the autistic character peed/wet herself? I mean... ??? It’s just so undignified and not at all necessary to the plot. Nothing happens after that, it just moves onto the next scene and it didn’t do anything

“I have no one” - 1) YOUR FUCKING SISTER. 2) GEE I FUCKING WONDER WHY, couldn’t be that you’re a shitty human being?!?

There’s a scene where Music is walking and she does ALL the stereotypical behaviours at once... just YIKES

Zu somehow stopped another meltdown just by grabbing Music by the shoulders and sitting her down???

Aaand yep. Another shitty musical number

Zu really goes to put her sister in a fucking facility and claims it’ll be “better for her” - BULLSHIT. Better for Zu, maybe, not Music.

Ah yes - the girl who the characters have said has problems with routines being changed/change in general... you’re now going to fuck up her routine by dumping her in a facility. Perfect Plan.

The nonverbal autistic girl suddenly speaking to say “don’t go” - you can just predict it from the off, can’t you?

Love that as soon as Music starts talking, Zu is like “fuck it, I’ll keep her!”

Zu really went and crashed Ebo’s brothers wedding... in a fucking bralette... YIKES

“I almost gave Music away” - SHE IS NOT A DOG YOU DONT GIVE PEOPLE AWAY

“We should sing a song” - PLEASE DO FUCKING NOT

Also that kiss/romance montage between Zu and Ebo was the CRINGIEST fucking shit ever

This movie seems to be implying that Music has locked in syndrome or something, like she’s locked in her own head or whatever it’s called, and I just... *sigh*

Oh and now Music magically fucking sings in a room FULL of strangers... this is literally embarrassing, please let this end

I mean it, this movie was fucking painful to watch on ever level

She got a service dog puppy which... okay?

Oh look, it’s the only decent song on the soundtrack but with an absolutely shitty over-stimulatory music video with the credits!

I can only name 5 characters in this film. Maybe 7 at a push, but even then I would be guessing

AND YEP SHE THANKED AUTISM SPEAKS OVER THE CREDITS. FUCK YOU SIA 🖕🏻

Let me reiterate: this is a movie about a neurotypical former drug addict whose character development comes from the autistic character, from having an autistic sister she has to take care of. I’m so tired.

We are NOT plot devices or tools for character development. Not once does anyone in this film treat Music like a human being - she’s treated as a burden, a problem, and then like a pet that they decide to keep. Not once is the film focused on how she is feeling - it’s always about Zu or Ebo. The performance itself was so over exaggerated and it made me want to cry when I watched it because this is how the world sees us, and this movie will make it ten times worse. It’s stuff like this that made me think “I don’t want to be labelled as autistic because people will think I’m a certain way”, that made me wait so long before going to the GP to get a referral.

As I said, poor autistic representation aside, the movie is just so appallingly bad. It truly is one of the worst films I’ve watched. If you’re going to watch it, please don’t - or, if you want to because you want to see how bad it is/to raise awareness/critical posts, at least do it illegally. Do not give Sia your money.

[disgruntledspacedad]

Better Love Notes

If you’re confused about location, timing, or characters in my Narcos AU series Better Love, this is the post for you.

Better Love is an AU reader insert series that begins midway through Narcos season two. Because it is AU, and because Narcos is complicated af anyway, I wanted to take some time to clarify what things in Better Love will be different than what you're used to seeing in the show.

Hannah “Ears” Aarons

First, I think it’s important to clarify that Ears is more of an OC written in second person than she is a generic reader insert. I might refer to her as “you,” but Ears has a name, a face claim, a backstory, and a huge personality. If that bothers you loads, I totally understand and you’re free to duck out at any point, but don’t come at me. If you have specific questions regarding Ears’ background, personality, physical appearance, family history, or whatever else, get with me privately. I would love to introduce you to my chaotic sunshine child.

Official Job Title: Ears is officially an employee of the CIA, but she is not an agent (read: spy). She was brought to Colombia to be a liaison between Centra Spike, the DEA, and the CIA. She introduces herself to Search Bloc by saying, "I'll be your ears," but in reality, she was put in place to be Bill Strechner’s ears. More on that later. She has a background with the US Army that's basically useless (desk job), a ton of training and zero practical experience with flyover recon and radiofrequency tracking, and she's itching to do something real with her life.

Timing

Ears arrives in Bogotá around August of 1992 and falls in bed with Peña pretty much immediately. Horacio Carillo did die recently, but Javi did not start working with Los Pepes and Don Berna until November of 1992. Assume all of the drama with Martinez Jr. and Los Pepes took place around the time that he and Ears were on the outs - that's just another factor that led Javi to make the emotional, rash decision to work with the cartels that he winds up regretting.

There is actually a one year span of time between season two, episode six and the end of the show. Pretty much the entirety of Better Love (for now) takes place during this year, so if it seems like I’m really stretching things out, that’s actually because the show mushed it all together. I promise, guys, I have done my research here.

Locations

The majority of scenes in Better Love will take place in Bogotá, the capital city of Colombia. It’s important to keep Bogotá separate from Medellín, which is where the nit and grit of the hunt for Escobar takes place. 

Getting to Medellín from Bogotá requires a one hour flight or an eight hour drive (Colombia is roughly twice the size of Texas, fyi). For a gringo, driving around the cities was dangerous, but driving outside the cities was suicide. Javi and Steve might take planes, or they might take an armored chopper, depends on my mood when I'm writing. Assume there's a landing strip nearby the embassy, because I'm lazy like that.

The U.S. Embass(ies): Centra Spike, Search Bloc, and the DEA office are all housed in the old embassy building that's basically right across from the new one (the super upscale nice one that actually functions as an embassy). 

There's a lot of confusion and shuffling around in the show, so I wanted to clarify what goes where (also, the real Murphy and Peña had offices in the old, unused embassy, so this is sort of legit). For simplicity's sake, I am assuming that CNP (Colombian National Police) headquarters are also in or nearby this building. Ears might refer to "headquarters," "the office," or "the embassy," and it's all the same place. Basically, everything is centrally located in Bogotá, and when I refer to “the DEA office,” or “Javi’s office,” picture it from season one - two desks that are not shoved on top of each other, with glass windows and real filing cabinets. The CIA is also located here, as is Strechner's office and the fabled White Room.

These buildings are in Bogotá, nearby Peña’s and Murphy's apartments. I will differentiate between the New, Swanky, Functional U.S. Embassy by capitalizing it and giving it its full title. If I say “embassy,” assume I’m talking about the older one where Javi and Ears are based.

The Carlos Holguin School: This is the base of Search Bloc operations in Medellín, and the primary location that we see in season two of the show. Think of it almost as a military base - training grounds, barracks, bare-bones, no a/c, shitty food. Javi and Steve often stay at "the school" overnight while conducting operations in Medellín. They might also refer to this as “camping” or “the camp,” or “base.” It sucks balls. This is where Javi and Steve have their messy, shoved on top of each other desks that we tend to associate with the show. Javi and Steve still work from here just as often as we see in canon, there just won’t be as many scenes in this location because Ears is never there. 

Javi’s apartment: Javi and Steve primarily live in Bogotá. This is the same apartment building that you see in season one, with the big steps in front of the building and then an even larger set of stairs inside. There is also a big set of stairs on the back end of the building that leads to an underground parking garage (we see this in the season one finale, where Steve gets snatched by Navegante). This building is a five minute walk to the U.S. Embassy, but Javi and Steve mostly chose to drive for safety and convenience. It’s in a pretty decent part of Bogotá. There is one small canon deviation in regards to the apartments: in Better Love, Javi lives upstairs, across from Steve’s front door instead of below him like we see in the show. They share a large front landing. I just really liked the idea of Javi having a view of the city from his bedroom window.

Ears’ apartment: Ears lives in a tiny little flat on top of a drug store, a place that she found on her own through the friend of a work friend. It’s also in a decent part of Bogotá, but not quite as safe or upscale as Javi’s. It’s about a ten minute hike from the embassy and fifteen minutes from Javi’s place.

Miscellaneous 

CIA/DEA Collaboration: The relationship between the CIA and the DEA in Colombia was not pretty. The show makes it look like a personal conflict between Strechner and Peña, but in reality, it was so much deeper than that. These two organizations have opposing goals, and communication and sharing of information was a real problem. Basically, they squabble more than they collaborate, and there was a lot of backstabbing, underhanded fuckery, and generally getting in each other's way. Naturally, this is going to create tension between Ears and Javi.

Bill Stechner: The show makes it clear that Bill doesn’t give a shit about Escobar or the cartels except in regards to the power dynamics they create, but let me reiterate here - his primary goal in Colombia is to keep it from becoming a communist state. That’s all he wants.

OC Sicarios: Don't get Velasco (canon sicario) mixed up with Verdugo (my OC sicario). They are different characters. Verdugo is the guy who features in The Rules of Engagement. 

Feo is another sicario who is an OC. More updates on him later.

Canon Deviations in Better Love

Series spoilers from this point on. I’m going to take it fic by fic, so if you haven’t read something and don’t want to be spoiled, stop at the bold print. Again, Better Love is super fucking plotty, so I thought it was only fair to give you guys a reference sheet. Lord knows I need one, too.

The Rules of Engagement: Introduces Ears. Horacio Carillo did die recently, but Javi’s role in his death is undetermined/not mentioned. Javi does start working with Los Pepes during Rules, but only after he and Ears have their fallout. All of the bullshit with Martinez Jr. and the Castaño brothers takes place during the time that Javi and Ears aren’t speaking.

Aftershocks: Establishes with certainty that Javi is working with the cartels. His primary contact with Los Pepes is Don Berna. This is going to be critical later. Also establishes that Don Berna has more connection to the Cali cartel than he does in canon. 

Yours: Establishes that Connie Murphy is a badass biker bitch with a heart of gold, because I think the show did her dirty. She loves Steve and Steve loves her. Ears and Stechner get to know each other a little better, and Javi doesn’t like this one bit. Ears starts thinking about a leak in Search Bloc, and how dangerous that might be for Javi.

Bang: Javier Peña gives Ears a shady ass, probably trafficked gun for her protection. We don’t know details of where he got it. Solidifies the bro/sis relationship between Steve and Ears. Implies heavily that Javi is doing some shady things with some shady folks. A light introduction to the theme of weapons trafficking in Colombia, which was a massive problem that is barely even mentioned in the show. It will feature heavily in Better Love.

The Shoebox: Introduces the character of Arturo, Ana Delgado’s shady older brother. Ears starts wondering if Ana knows more than she should. Confirms that the Fernando Duque arc does take place in Better Love, and that Javi is genuinely torn up by it like he is in canon. This leads Ears to start thinking more deeply about that leak in Search Bloc, and she begins to actively collect evidence with the intention of sniffing out the rat and keeping Javi safe. Mentions sex trafficking, a major problem in Colombia at the time, and also a minor theme later on in Better Love.

Shit Hits the Fan: Establishes that Arturo Delgado is actually a hitman working with Los Pepes, and that he and Javi have gone on some raids together. Javi is desperate to keep this a secret from Ears, who is friends with Ana, both for her protection and because he’s kind of ashamed of how deep he’s in with Los Pepes. Establishes that in the wake of the Ferando Duque debacle, the Castaño brothers did not reach out to Stechner for help, but instead decided to put a hit out on Javi to either kill or scare him off. Javi is no longer working with Los Pepes, but he never did find out that Stechner was the one who set him up in the first place.

The White Room: Bill Stechner reveals to Ears that her purpose in Colombia is to be his own personal spy on the DEA. He is investigating a mysterious sicario named Feo in relation to a massive russian weapons ring. Bill wants Ears to report everything that the DEA learns about Feo because he suspects that Feo might have connections with FARC, a communist guerrilla group that is Stechner’s public enemy number one. Ears realizes that she’s in deep shit, and also realizes the depth of the resentment between the DEA and the CIA, and how much their goals in Colombia actually oppose. Stechner is revealed to be a real bag of dicks here.

Closing notes

Whew, okay. I will update this post periodically if more information becomes necessary or if you guys have questions, and I’ll reblog it if I do. I’m going to go ahead and tag my taglist folks in this, just because it’s a huge information dump. Of course, you probably don't need to know these things to get the gist of what’s going on in Better Love, but if you’re a chronic overanalyzer like me, it might be helpful. 

Also, let me know if you guys want a list of the characters who are major players in the series. I know I had to make one for myself but I wasn’t sure if posting it would be overkill (this is probably already overkill, tbh).

Tags: @jedi-mando, @aerolanya, @pikemoreno, @bitchin-beskar, @mostly-megan, @huliabitch, @starsandmando, @starlight-starwrites​, @thirstworldproblemss, @knittingqueen13, @yespolkadotkitty

Javier Peña tags: @magpie-to-the-morning, @tiffdawg, @danniburgh, @1800-fight-me

Mad love to you guys if you’ve stuck around for this long.

[kareofbears]

desperate as that sounds

Five times Ryuji ran for Akira (and one time he ran for himself.)

—  

read on ao3 or below the cut :)

It’s 4:45 am with the weather sitting at a brutal -3 degrees when Ryuji really starts wishing that he brought another jacket.

People are lined around Akihabara by the hundreds outside of closed electronic stores, and the sun has yet to even rise. Some people are yawning, some are clutching their rapidly cooling coffee in a death grip, and most have dark, purple bags underneath their eyes—proof of the battle scars that they’ve acquired. Every person here had the same goal in mind: To get what they need and get out as quick as possible.

As it turns out, if everyone has that same mindset, it creates the violent, yearly November tradition that is Black Friday.

Glancing around, he notices that people came in packs, teams. Teenagers and pre-pubescent kids are all scuffling around, hyping themselves up and creating strategies for the war to come. The more seasoned veterans of the yearly massacre came in pairs—the smaller the group, the faster you move, the move land you cover.

At the biggest electronic store in a region that’s already been nicknamed ‘Electronic Town,’ he is fourth in line—an impressive feat, especially for a first-timer. But it came with a heavy toll: he is completely and utterly alone.

”Skull, do you read me?”

Well, physically alone, anyway.

“Loud and clear,” he replies, readjusting the mic in his ear. “Not that I mind, but what’s with the codenames?”

Futaba scoffs. “You think Black Friday is just about the physical aspect? Foolish boy—the psychological aspects are half the battle. If I get you into the mindset that we’re in a Palace, then you’ll get into infiltration mode, and you’ll be OP compared to the nerds out there.”

“Ooo, I like it! Your brain is effin’ galaxy sized!”

“I do what I can for my faithful pack mule.”

“I’ll try not to take that personally.”

His deal with Futaba had been a simple one. She helps Ryuji navigate the horrors of Akihabara during Black Friday in exchange that he acts as what is essentially a drug trafficker sans the drugs. Despite her rigorous societal training she’d undergone with the Thieves, something about entering a borderline stampede still seems somewhat unappealing to her. Besides, he doesn’t mind. He’d always wanted to do something nice for Futaba anyway, and the store that has her computer thing is the same store that holds what he needs.

”Five minutes to go,” her voice crackles into his ear. ”Infiltration route—go!”

Their deal had also come in with an intense tutorial session that ended up lasting until one in the morning. “Floor 4, down 3 aisles, 8 steps in, turn right, second shelf, grab a box that says ‘GTX graphics card.’ Pink, if possible.”

“A+, Skull! You know, if you can memorize that, I seriously don’t get why you’re failing English verbs.”

“Please, this is actually important.”

Futaba cackles. “Now you’re speaking my language. With your legs and my navigation, this’ll basically be a Tuesday afternoon in Leblanc.”

People around him are starting to straighten up, some going as far as to remove the extra layer of clothing and shoving it in backpacks for maximum speed and minimum restrictions. “Damn, people here look more intense than some dudes in my track meets.”

“If you’re throwing out portable chargers with 30-hour battery life for only 800 yen, you’d be a little intense too.”

Ryuji scoffs and begins to stretch, being extra sure to get his right thigh. “I’m plenty intense. Just last Saturday, I almost beat the Big Bang Burger challenge.”

“Pretty sure Akira beat that on his second week in Tokyo. You know, you still haven’t told me why you’re bothering with this whole Black Friday mess. I didn’t peg you for an electronics type of guy, and your phone is as crappy as your posture.”

“Rude! But I can’t argue with that.” He starts to run in place, and for a brief second, he wonders if he should’ve packed a protein shake.

“Well, too late now. If your thing sells out because you didn’t want to give your Navi information, that’s on you.”

“Gimme some credit, Futaba,” an employee who looks equal parts sleep-deprived and terrified approaches the glass doors. “Ain’t no way in hell I’m failing either of us this morning.”

The glass slides open, and as if sunlight was released from the captivity of the clouds, or perhaps a meteor just broke through the earth’s atmosphere, the people start pushing, shoving, and flooding inside. The crowd looked both impenetrable and unwavering; an unstoppable force and an immovable object rolled into one giant stream of desperate shoppers.

Ryuji spares a split-second to crack his neck. Mission Start.

The moment he breaks through the initial threshold, people who were only one step behind him suddenly became ten, twenty, thirty. Weaving through crowds and aisles with the precision of a seamstress, Ryuji evades it all with ease.

”Skull, status report.”

“Smooth sailing, Oracle!” He ducks as an overly buff businessman turns around with a 3-metre pole used for studio lighting threatens to bash his head in. “You’re totally right about the codenames, by the way. It’s almost like I’ve got Captain with me.”

“Right?” She laughs. “It’s all about the mindset.”

Ryuji turns, and finally gets to the stairs—the most brutal section and the biggest gamble. It’s the reason why it was essential that he’s one of the first in line. Once the stairs get jammed with people, it’s game over. Making a mad dash up four flights of stars, he thanks any God that may be that Palaces are fantastic for rehab.

He makes it to the top, panting. It’s empty, save for a few nervous-looking employees. He hopes the smile he throws their way came off as ‘pleasant and grateful for their service’ rather than ‘a delinquent asshole who might steal loads of shit.’

“Down 3 aisles, 8 steps,” he mutters to himself as he quickly scans the fourth floor. “Turn right, second shelf,” eyes landing on his target, he grins. “I effin’ rock.”

”You got it?”

“Of course I did!” He fist pumps before swiping the box. In his excitement, he nearly runs over to give a random employee a high-five. “Alright Oracle, you’re up.”

”I love you so much in a non-weird way. Okay,” he hears the clacking of keys on the other side of the mic. “What do you need?”

“Two words: game console.”

The clacking stops. “You’re joking.”

Ryuji snorts. “I ain’t waking up at 3 in the morning for a joke.”

”Those are hard enough to get as is, and on a day like this—”

“So you can’t do it?”

In the same way every one of the thieves know they could bait Ryuji with a few choice words, it’s a lesser-known fact that Futaba is quite nearly as bad when it comes to open defiance. “Jerk. Of course I can.”

“Then let’s do it!”

“Ugh, fine!” The clacking resumes, more vigorously. “Yikes, only 3 left. Make it quick!”

“Got it,” he replies. He turns around and his stomach drops as he sees people rushing in. “What floor?”

“Third.”

Ryuji groans. The stairs, with people packed in like sardines, are a circus. It would take at least two minutes to try and go down a single flight of stairs. The elevator is even worse, and he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it had already started to malfunction. Only one choice, then.

He takes a deep breath. “Pray for me.”

”Godspeed, soldier.”

Ryuji, like a wild animal on the loose in the streets of Tokyo, jumps on the handrails and begins his descent that way, begging to the skies that he doesn’t slip and create a domino effect that knocks down a dozen people.

In thirty seconds flat (with no small amount of cursing from both the customers and himself) he jumps off and lands (tumbles) onto the third floor, grinning triumphantly. Eat your heart out, Sumire.

“Oracle, I’m here. Almost broke my ankles. Where to?”

”Straight ahead,” she replies. ”Only one left, though. Better make it quick.”

His eyes land on the last game console, and he sees someone making their way towards it. “Not a problem.”

Ryuji sprints.

Throwing every societal rule and common courtesy into the air, he makes a mad dash and, somehow, miraculously does not bump into anyone or knock down any huge shelves.

In approximately 3 seconds, he grabs his treasure and yells a very loud but completely genuine “sorry!” over his shoulder as he half runs back to the stairs, face red for multiple reasons.

Delving back into the sea of the crowd, trying to navigate himself to the cash register, he sighs. “I’m going to hell.”

”Mission success, then?”

“I had to steal it from some guy! I feel so bad. What if he’s like, buying it for his long lost son or something?”

”Whatever! That’s just part of the Black Friday spirit. Congrats! At least you finally got a game console.”

“Huh? Oh, I already had one.”

Static crinkles in his ear, before, ”WHAT!?”

“Ow! Don’t yell!”

”You already had one and you still did this shopping run?”

“Yeah…?”

”Why?! Are you gonna sell it? Are you one of those sleazy men who take advantage of the good will of gamers, Sakamoto?”

“Hell no!”

”So—“

“Oops, almost at the front of the cash register. I’ll drop off the goods at Akira’s. Talk to you later, shortie.”

Click.

”Wha— Hey! Ryuji!” Silence. “Ugh!”

————

After a much-deserved nap, Futaba climbs up the stairs to Akira’s attic.

“The star has arrived!” she says in lieu of a greeting. “Where’s Ryuji?”

“He left,” Akira answers. He’s looking at something on his worktable. “Your stuff is on the bed.”

Futaba whoops and snatches up the little plastic bag. Peering inside, she sees an adorable GTX hot pink graphics card, and a note. In a horrific scrawl, it writes: dont tell him plz ;)))

She looks up quizzically when her eyes land on Akira’s desk: A shiny new game console.

“Um…”

“Hmm?” he looks up. “Oh, Ryuji dropped it off. Said his mom won it at work, and since he already had one, he gave it to me. Nice, right?”

She opens her mouth, before closing it with a clack. Just two weeks ago, Ryuji had asked Akira in the group chat if they could play video games at his place. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget about Akira’s situation: false accusation, an attic for a room, no definitive meals, not even a proper bathroom in the building, but Akira plays it off like it’s easy. He answered by making a joke that he’s too poor for something like that when you can buy faux battle axes and realistic shotguns instead. Everyone had forgotten about that interaction.

But apparently, Ryuji hadn’t.

He’s an idiot, Futaba thinks. To which boy she’s referring to, she’s not sure.

“Yeah,” is what she says instead. “It’s nice.”

====

The dust motes flying around the attic of Leblanc are lovely. Swirling in senseless formations, floating through the still air like snow. The way none of them collide with each other, as if they have some sort of motion detector that tells them to move out of the way. It’s pleasing to look at.

It’s a shame Ryuji doesn’t give a single shit about them at this moment.

He’s sitting on Akira’s bed, back pressed against the window sill with his hair tipped up, staring unfocused at the wooden beams, eyes glazed over. He’s been like this for the better part of the day, and now the evening is slipping by him. Time continues ticking on like a rigged bomb; an ongoing reminder of how many seconds he’s losing, and how much more he can lose.

He’s considered moving. To walk around the room, shift the dust that’s surely settled on him. Getting up, stretching his legs, outwardly expelling some of his trapped, balled up energy is a good idea. Healthy, even, if those shitty YouTube videos he’s watched on his phone about anger management were on to something. But he can’t. He shouldn’t.

Amidst all the uncertainty and the wound-up anxiety that has currently made permanent residence deep inside his core, he knows that if lets his joints unlock, he’s going to fucking lose it.

Slam a fist inside the dry wood, tear up a blanket, throw the adorable ramen bowl he gave Akira against the wall until it shatters into a hundred pieces. He’s so terrified of ruining this room that he won’t even give himself the option. And Ryuji would rather let hell freeze over than scare Futaba again in his fit of fucked-up rage that comes with the package that is Sakamoto Ryuji.

So he’s stuck on the bed for God knows how long.

Footsteps come up, and he doesn’t need to look down to know who’s going to chew him out. If it’s not Akira that’s going to chide him out of his stupor (which it isn’t, even though Ryuji would do anything if it means that Akira’s back here with them), then they’d send in someone who’d drag him out of it with her nails perfectly manicured.

“You look terrible.”

“Screw off,” Ryuji spits automatically, and he cringes inwardly. Ann doesn’t deserve the sharp end of his horrible mood. It’s not her fault that it feels like his insides feel like they’re trying to eat their way out.

She ignores him and moves to hop on top of the old work desk. The wood creaks underneath her. “You’ve been here all day.”

“I know.”

“Did you sleep last night?”

“Yes. No.” He feels Ann’s stare burn into the side of his face—a ghost of Carmen’s presence. “I don’t know.”

“He wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

Irritation swells in him. She’s never learned to take a hint in her life. “Really? Are you seriously saying that?”

“Are you saying he would?”

“I’m saying he’s too busy having the living shit beat out of him to see me like this.”

His body twitches, and that’s all he needed for his resolve to break down. He jumps from the bed, feet landing heavily enough that he’s sure they can all hear him from the floor below. Unconsciously, his feet pace around the small room; quick with agitation but heavy with dread. Anything to distract from doing something stupid.

“You’re worried about me, what, not sleeping? For lying down on this damn bed for too long? Screw that. Akira’s being grilled like cheap meat for the past couple of days and you’re expecting me to act normal about it? That’s bullshit.”

Bad. This is bad. His fingers are already curling in his fists, eager and all too willing to be used. He settles for balling the edge of his shirt instead.

“He isn’t here. That’s the fact, isn’t it? And what the fuck am I doing about it? Freaking out? Trying not to throw a tantrum about it like some kind of stupid kid? Am I really this messed in the head that everyone on the team is—-is hiding from me like I’m some kind of—” he cuts himself off.

Delinquent.

Ryuji takes a deep breath, fully inhaling and slowly exhaling. He focuses on the dust motes again. In and out. Countdown from ten. He can do this. He can get a grip on himself. Thank God it was Ann that came up—if it had been anyone else, he doesn’t think he can put his pride aside as easily. (Unless it was Futaba. God, he loves her so much.)

For a while, it was silent except for his breathing; it stuttered occasionally, but eventually it evens out. Ann only watches from her perch.

When he feels stable enough, Ryuji drops to sit on the hardwood.

“Okay?” she asks. Ann never babies him when he gets like this—she’s good that way.

“Okay.” And he really is. Not completely, of course not. His nerves weren’t strung as tight, but he still feels a heavy weight right in his stomach.

She hops off the desk and goes to sit in front of him on the floor. Crossing her legs, Ann waits. They regard each other for a long minute.

“He’s the toughest guy I’ve ever met,” he says. It feels weird saying this out loud, instead of repeating the mantra in his head like a broken record. “If anyone can handle this, it’s Akira.”

She rolls her eyes. “Duh.”

“He’s going to be okay.”

“I know that.”

“Sooner than later, his dumb ass is going to be walking through the door downstairs.”

“You bet he is.”

“And I get to yell at him as much as I want.”

“Get in line.”

“I’m not going to lose him tonight.”

Ann reaches over—slowly, giving him plenty of room to shift away—and places a hand on his knee. “You’re not going to lose him tonight.”

Ryuji laughs, a little breathy but still genuine. He prods at her hand. “When’d you get so good with me, Takamaki?”

“I do the Lord’s work around here, free of charge.” She grins, before her tone drops again. “Can you do something for me, though?”

“Lay it on me.”

Ann pulls back and leans on a propped hand, her blue eyes piercing. “When Akira comes back, and he will—”

“And he will. No doubt about it.”

“Obviously. He’s the best person for this. But when Akira comes back, he’s…” Ann gnaws on the inside of her cheek. “He’s not going to be okay, Ryuji.”

Somewhere in his mind, he already knew what she was going to say. While the biggest of his worries is that he’d never see Akira walk through the doors of Leblanc again, there was a quieter fear. A very specific fear, one that Ryuji knows all too well. Because stories don’t just end at the climax of a single event—they keep going. It’s the fear of what happens once he does see Akira.

The aftermath.

The bell chimes downstairs.

His heart lurches, and he makes the briefest of eye contact with Ann before he’s gone.

He’s the toughest guy I’ve ever met.

It’s like his feet have a mind of their own.

If anyone can handle this, it’s Akira.

In an instant, he’s scrambling towards the stairs on all fours before pushing himself up.

Sooner than later, his dumbass is going to be walking through the door downstairs.

His hand finds its hold on the old wooden railing as he sprints his way down. More than once, he almost trips and bangs his head into the wall.

And I get to yell at him as much as I want.

Rounding the corner, he jumps on the landing, ignoring the sharp pain that shoots up his thigh. He ignores the stares from everyone else. Looking up his breath catches in his throat. Gray eyes meet his brown ones. He takes one step forward, and then another. And then he sprints the rest.

He’s going to be okay.

Ryuji stops himself right in front of him, an arms-length away. Akira’s face looked like it’s been through hell and back. Split lip, black eye, bruised cheekbone. An intense fury flares up his spine when he sees the grime and dirt up along his temple.

He hesitates.

As much as he wants to reach forward, close the gap, to make sure that this boy that he can’t afford to lose is real… he can’t do it.

Because he knows what would happen if he tries to cross a boundary that isn’t ready to be crossed—he might not be ready. Ryuji could hurt him by touching any injuries he doesn’t know about (God, how much more is he hiding in there? He’s this close to either throwing up or throwing a punch). But what he’s most scared about, what he’s terrified of doing, is touching Akira in the state of mind he’s in right now. For someone to grip him, grab him, even just brush past him right now, it might be too much. Judging by how beat up he looks just from his face? That does shit to people. That changes you.

Ryuji would know. So he keeps his distance.

Akira’s eyes turn dark, and for a second, Ryuji is terrified that he must’ve overstepped a boundary.

Then he throws his arms around Ryuji, the force knocking them both back by a couple of steps.

“Akira?” he asks, bewildered. Never in their friendship has he seen Akira act like this. It sends alarm bells ringing through his head. “What—”

“Don’t,” Akira cuts off, voice hoarse and quiet, so quiet that even this close, Ryuji is straining to hear him. The arms around him tighten. “Don’t be like that. Please. I can’t. Not right now, Ryuji.”

It hits him all at once. And in his sixteen years of living, Ryuji doesn’t think he’s ever been stupider.

Akira’s been trapped in an interrogation room with nothing but a bunch of make-believe police officers. He got the shit beat out of him, had to stage his own suicide.

And Ryuji just tried to push him away.

He lets his arms wrap around Akira tightly; not too tight, but enough to make sure he won’t slip away from him again. (Never again. Not if he can help it.)

“I’m glad you’re back,” he whispers. Tilting his head up, he stares at the soft lighting of Leblanc, forcing his lungs to breathe evenly—not for fear of losing his temper, but for fear of exposing the tears silently streaming down his face. “So fucking glad.”

Akira doesn’t answer. He only buries his face deeper into Ryuji’s shoulder.

Ann was right—Akira isn’t okay. Not for now, not for awhile. It’s up to Ryuji and everyone else in their group of friends to fix that. That’s fine. They’ll all take as long as they need. He isn’t okay right now, but he will be. They can work on that.

But one thing was clear.

I’m not going to lose him tonight.

====

Summer in Mementos is pretty gross.

Granted, it’s always nasty in here—there’s a perpetual air of moisture, like the inside of a whale, if Ryuji had ever been in one (he’s basing that off of an American movie Ann showed them last week; he didn’t even know it was possible for a fish to get lost in the ocean). There’s also the ongoing sound of trains passing by them on loop, and to him, trains are just inherently cramped and humid and always too sticky for his liking.

Of course, there’s the disgusting, weird amalgamated Shadows that litter every level of Mementos. At least in Palaces they sort of resemble something from the real world, but he guesses they didn’t even bother with these ones. The worst part of all this is that right now, it’s hot, but not hot enough for the Shadows to process a heat wave.

So essentially, they’re fighting with additional bucket loads of sweat, but with none of the usual reward that comes with it.

Well, not that they needed it.

“Fox.”

“As you wish.”

Yusuke’s boots skid to a halt as he points his katana at the fast-moving Shadow, the tip perfectly still. “Your assistance, Goemon.”

They’re on their weekly Mementos grind, the list Mishima keeps updating finally too long to ignore. (Akira hates it when things pile up. It’s a big reason why Ryuji hastily cleaned up every time he wanted to come over. Now though, he doesn’t even bother.)

The current All-Star team includes Yusuke, Makoto, Ryuji, and Akira, with the rest of them keeping a close eye in case they need a quick shift in strategy.

From his katana, black ice crawls in the ground beneath rusted train tracks, the air suddenly chilly despite the humidity that was there a moment ago. Frost shoots forward, encasing the legs of the Shadow only to shatter with a strong jerk forward. It roars, the ear-piercing sound causing the scattered debris around them to vibrate. Akira clicks his tongue.

Strong against ice. Easy fix. Ryuji mouths the words along with Akira when he says, “Panther, you’re up.”

“Finally!”

Ann darts in, high-fiving Yusuke as he rushes out. Ryuji can see Makoto pat Yusuke on the back, sympathy etched on her expression and Futaba mussing his hair. He always took it the hardest when he had to be switched out.

Akira’s gloved fingers brush the edge of his monochrome mask. “Come, Principality.”

As if a human version of justice has been summoned down to earth, the winged statue floats for a moment, eyes filled with scorn as she casts a simple, yet effective memory loss spell. The Shadow shakes its head aggressively. It works, but it won’t hold for long.

“Skull.”

“Don’t mind if I do!”

He grins and sprints right, squeezing into the Shadow’s blindside. It tries to twist around to take a swipe at him, but Ryuji is too fast—he slides right between its legs to confuse and disorient it. Once it seems like it completely lost sight of him, he raises his hand to grip the edge of his black mask. “Come on out, Captain!”

It’s a classic tactic; make the enemy lose focus, stun it, and stop it.

A pirate straight out of the Caribbean materializes from the embers of his mask—Captain Kidd in all of his glory regards the Shadow with a look of disdain before sparks fly from the hull of his ship, and an intense streak of lightning bursts forth, shocking its target like something from a regrettable movie about torture, knocking it down to the ground, a buzz perceptible even from here. He might have overdone it.

Ann whistles. “You didn’t even let me get a chance with it.”

“You can have the next million Shadows we bump into, I promise.” He calls Captain back into his mask, fragmented pieces forming together impossibly quick. “We good, Leader?”

Akira nods. “Just let me get the loot,” he smiles at Ryuji. “Awesome voltage on that last one, Skull.”

A grin stretches over his face before he can stop himself. He won’t deny it—getting a compliment from Joker was always something he filed away for later.

He’s too busy feeling pride surge through him that he can’t even bother to get ticked off when he hears Morgana scoff. “It doesn’t matter how good that attack was; he got in the way of Lady Panther’s finishing blow. That’s a crime in my eyes.”

“But doesn’t that just mean he saved her from doing anything?” Makoto raises an eyebrow. “Technically, he prevented any danger from befalling her, right?”

“Queen, as a gentleman, I have an obligation to tell you that that is a sexist notion.”

“You did not just say that.”

Something makes Ryuji pause. Immediately, his eyes flicker around them automatically. He tunes their chattering out, and finds himself tapping his foot, a slight jitter overcoming him. His nerves are trying to tell him something. Or maybe he’s imagining it? Is it just an aftershock from the intense lightning he cast out? No. It’s been too long since he’s had any problem with electric moves, and he’s never had problems from ones that he threw out himself.

Something was wrong, and he can’t put his finger on it.

He rattles his brain trying to figure out what it is. No one’s hurt, everyone’s safe and together. Well, mostly together, since Akira’s still approaching the Shadow—

A cold sweat drapes the back of his neck. Akira is still approaching the Shadow.

The Shadow hasn’t disintegrated yet.

“Akira—!”

The name slips past his lips, codenames forgotten. In slow motion, Ryuji sees Shadow’s body tense, its mouth frothing with what looks like liquid magma made from pits of hell—specializes in curse, and a strong one at that; Ryuji can feel the potency of its malignancy from where he’s standing. He watches as Akira stiffens, fingers twitching towards his mask, ready to retaliate, or at the very least, defend. And like a domino effect of bad luck, Ryuji feels bile rise to his throat.

Akira is good at what he does. Infuriatingly good. Took the whole Metaverse bullshit like a fish to water. But even he can’t switch Personas the same moment he summons them.

Principality would crumple like tissue paper against the Shadow. And Akira along with it.

You’re too late, a voice whispers in his head. You wouldn’t make it.

A heartbeat passes. And then Ryuji is flying.

It’s never too late, screams back something stronger, something unshakeable. Not ever. Especially not for him.

His boots hit the ground like the first strike of lightning amidst a storm—impossibly fast and unexpected. Lungs wheezing and legs throbbing, he crossed the distance in the span of a breath.

The Shadow throws the curse at Akira, red and black and filled to the brim with intensity, and Akira’s eyes can only widen, pupils dilated wildly to the point where there’s only black—a mirror of what’s about to hit him if Ryuji isn’t fast enough.

He doesn’t hesitate.

Ryuji shoves Akira, hard enough that he crashes onto the ground and he can hear the breath forcefully leave his lungs, and suddenly Ryuji can’t hear anything at all. His fingertips are fire and ice, his sense of surroundings have completely dissipated. Any energy in his body is being drained, like a dam cracked into millions of pieces—and all he’s left with is air. Vaguely, he can hear a choking noise, a broken sort of sound.

The blow is not just a violent one—it never is, with curse attacks. Instead of just feeling his skin bruised or blood running down his temple, he also feels himself get weaker, his mind growing heavier. An attack on the mind and body; a perfect cocktail of fucked up.

The last thing he sees before he loses consciousness is the glint from Akira’s knife slicing through the Shadow’s throat.

====

Tokyo is currently at a wicked thirty two degrees.

The sun radiates scorching temperatures down from the sky, the concrete eagerly absorbing every bit of its heat, making something akin to walking across hot coals. It’s hot enough that a mirage is visible to the naked eye. It’s hot enough that every ice cream store has a forty-minute line-up. It’s hot enough that no birds were flying, in fear that they may truly be fried by the sun above them.

Basically, it’s hot as hell.

“Ryuji-chan, pick up the pace!”

But Haru is more vicious than any conceivable temperature.

Looking like a survivor who was lost in the desert for several days, Ryuji lets out a half-garbled battle cry and sprints the last dozen meters. Haru clicks her stopwatch.

Sitting on a lovely lilac blanket, she tsks from underneath the shade. “Three seconds slower.”

“Ugh!” he collapses beside her on the cool grass. If she looks at him from a certain angle, she can see the steam positively radiating off of him. “I’m going to beat the living shit out of the sun.”

“You know I’d support you in anything you do, Ryuji-chan, but I don’t think you’d be fast enough to catch it,” Haru says. She hands him a cold water bottle. “Drink slowly.”

He rolls over so that he can squint up at her. “You’re mean.”

“I’m harsh,” she corrects, shaking the bottle in her hand. “There’s a difference.”

He takes it. “Have you done this before?”

“Helped someone train in running? No. But,” she rummages through her pastel pink tote bag, and proudly shows him a handful of books. He squints at them. “Since I’m so new to the group and everyone has such broad interests, I decided to try reading up on them! Did you know that drinking cold water after running results in less dehydration than drinking warm water?”

Ryuji stares at her. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For saying you’re mean. You’re not mean. You’re real nice, Haru.”

She smiles at him and pats his head, despite the overflowing heat and moisture settled on top. “You’re very sweet Ryuji-chan, but that’s not going to make me go easy on you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re the tough-love kind of coach.” Ryuji sits up, cracking open the seal. Chugging down the water, he makes eye contact with Haru before slowing down substantially.

He dumps the rest of it on his head, sighing and shivering in relief. “That’s the good shit.”

“Why not wait for the sun to go down a bit?” she suggests. “The heat is really scorching, and there’s still plenty of time to keep training later.”

“Nah,” he stretches his arms behind his head before he stands again. “I gotta keep going while I still can.”

Haru frowns. “Overexertion isn’t going to help anyone.”

“Don’t you worry your fluffy head! I may be stupid, but I know when to stop when I gotta.”

“I really think you should rest for a bit.”

“I will when I’m done, I promise.”

“You looked rough in that last lap—”

“Haru,” Ryuji is grinning, but his tone leaves no room for argument. “I’m going to keep training.”

They stare at each other for a few moments, before Haru’s shoulder sags slightly. “Alright.” He’s about to say something when she cuts him off. “But only if you tell me why you’re so insistent.”

Ryuji shrugs. “If that’s what it’ll take to prove it to you, then sure. It’s kinda stupid, though.”

“I’m sure it’s not.”

“Oh, wait till you hear it,” he laughs, a little shy. “So you know how Mona and Futaba are, like, the Metaverse experts? And Makoto is the big brain? And Yusuke does the whole calling card part?” Haru nods, and he continues. “Well, I’m not really… anything. Ann already took the role of moral support and there’s no way in hell I’m the ‘brain’ in anything. Jeez, last time I picked up a paintbrush was in kindergarten. So I figured, I’d be the fast one, you know? The one that can get to someone fast enough to help them out.” Ryuji’s grin turns into something softer; less edge and more fond. It does something to her heart. “And if it’d help ‘Kira down the line, then it’d be worth it, right?”

Haru stays silent.

“Anyway! That’s enough of that cheesy shit.” He moves back to the track, running shoes scuffing at the concrete. “Wish me luck, maybe I can actually catch up to the sun this time. Teach it a lesson.”

“Ryuji.“

Looking back, he gives her a curious look. “Yeah?”

Haru hesitates.

I never once thought you were stupid. You’ve given so much more to the team than you can imagine. You have no idea how many times you’ve helped Akira without even lifting a finger.

“I have a cooler full of water behind me, so… please try your best out there.”

Ryuji gives her an enthusiastic salute. “Yes ma'am!”

He runs off, the sun continuing to beat down him relentlessly.

====

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ryuji knew they were all going to die someday. It’s inevitable. The circle of life, the winds of time, la vie en rose, etc.

He just didn’t expect it to happen at the age of 16, on the sinking cognitive ship of their next Prime Minister, wearing a wack-ass leather outfit surrounded by his panicking friends.

“We’re going to die!” Futaba wails, knees shaking uncontrollably to the point where she can hardly keep standing. “I don’t know how to swim!”

“It’ll be fine,” Akira spits through gritted teeth. He’s far tenser than anyone else, red gloves formed into fists and eyes constantly darting around to see what can save their lives. “We just need to focus.”

Makoto points to something on their right and shouts, “There! A lifeboat!”

Sprinting down the slowly escalating ramp, their eyes widen at the single lifeboat propped at the very top of the bow—which is slowly approaching a ninety degree angle. They all had one thought in their minds.

“We’re not going to make it in time,” Yusuke says, quietly.

Akira bangs his fist into a nearby column. “To hell with that. There’s no way I’m letting us die here.”

A heavy silence falls over them. The air is practically crackling with electricity and pure agitation, but there’s also a determination between all of that. Everyone’s overcome with a need to protect their friends and teammates, but they were at a loss of what to do. A quiet realization overcomes the group—there wasn’t going to be a miracle to save them.

Ryuji’s eyes land on Akira. He’s scanning the area, Third Eye activated but unable to pick up anything that isn’t the lifeboat. There’s no panic in his clear, gray eyes, but the terror in it is the most prevalent out of anyone present.

It hits Ryuji, all at once. The boy in front of him may be his age, and even younger than some members of their group, but he is undoubtedly the leader of the infamous Phantom Thieves. Every decision he made had led them here, in this moment, in their imminent death. And if he lets them all get taken, whether it’s through the ocean or the approaching explosions behind him, the truth of the matter is Akira feels that he would be responsible. That it’s his fault that a cognitive boat would take the lives of his friends.

Yeah. That’s not happening.

Ryuji clenches his eyes shut for a few seconds and slowly opens them. He begins to jump in place, hyping himself up.

“Skull…?” Haru asks, brows furrowing.

“Hang tight, guys,” he says, taking quick breaths. He can do this. “I’ll nab the boat.”

A chorus of gasps and heated objections rang through the air, and Akira steps forward, more shaken than Ryuji’s ever seen him. “No. Skull, please—”

Ryuji throws him a wobbly grin, more for Akira than himself. In one smooth motion, he jumps down and hits the ground running.

“No!”

Immediately, he feels his knees and thighs begin to protest, only intensifying the further he sprints up. For a minute, if Ryuji closes his eyes, he can imagine that he’s in a meet. A race. That the screams he hears behind him are his track mates, and not teammates, friends, best friends that would die if he failed to get to the boat fast enough.

He pushes himself even more.

It’s a miracle that he gets to the raft before his legs give out, and he feels a satisfying crank underneath his palms when he rotates the lever. As he throws a thumbs up at his friends, seeing them safe, healthy, alive, he feels relieved beyond words.

He makes eye contact with Akira, and he really should’ve expected the explosion that comes next.

====

His ceiling has seventy-nine plastic stars.

Ryuji stares up at it from his bed, arms crossed behind his head; they’d long since lost their cheap light. It was raining hard outside, enough to rattle against his window like pebbles calling for his attention. He ignores them.

It’s been years since he got those stars—dating all the way back in middle school. He got into a bad habit of sneaking out in the middle of the night to look at the sky from the roof of their apartment building. It scared the shit out of his ma when she finally caught him, scolded him to hell and back. By the end, they found a compromise: she’d buy him a crap ton from the hundred yen store, and they’d stick it up together. When they did, it kept falling down, so she went back and bought him a bottle of superglue. Now you can’t take them off, even if you tried to use a little scraper.

It bothered him, for a while. Young boys were cruel, and anyone who came to visit always poked fun of him for it. It wasn’t until he visited Akira’s room one day, saw how pleased he was that Yusuke bought them for him that he couldn’t help but revel at his own stars again, after all this time.

Ryuji twists his body sideways, ripping his eyes away from the plastic figures. Enough of that.

His eyes have long adjusted to the darkness that surrounds him, allowing a clear view of his room in the limited moonlight. Laundry splayed around his tatami mat from his sprints training today, gaming controllers scattered on the center table from when Akira came over a few days ago. That was a blast. He helped him beat a boss he’s been stuck on for weeks, and Akira beat it like it was nothing, it was the coolest shit ever—

Ryuji forces himself to flip over to glare at the wall. Sleep. That’s a better idea.

He takes a deep breath, forcing his breathing to go steady. There’s lots to do tomorrow—school is a drag, but they plan on meeting up at Leblanc afterwards. The thought allows his muscles to relax. Really, the atmosphere of Leblanc is just so pleasing to him. The warm lighting, the run-down booths, even the smell is a welcome presence. Well, that’s mostly because Akira drags it with him wherever he—

Slowly, his eyes open.

It always comes back to him, doesn’t it?

He rolls onto his back, in a position to stare at the stars again. The rain hammers on.

Ryuji’s a dumb kid.

It’s not a self jab, it wasn’t manifested by some sort of long-standing insecurity. It’s a fact. He’s never been good with a book, never done anything half-decent by picking up a pencil, his mind was never programmed to listen and retain information in long classes. It’s definitely not like he’s the brains of the Thieves, never a strategist of some kind. His ma encouraged him to take on a tutor in the past, and he’d rather bite a finger off than spend her money on wasted potential, so he found himself wandering the streets of Central Street as a way to pass time.

Ryuji’s a dumb kid, but even he knows he’s irrevocably, completely, stupidly in love with Kurusu Akira.

He sits up and ruffles his hair, frustrated. There are too many things wrong with that sentence, too many things that can go wrong because of that sentence. Of course, he finds the one thing that can mess up the unshakeable foundation that he and Akira built for each other. He must’ve really pissed off some God upstairs for him to have a hell-bent queer awakening with his best friend.

No, that’s wrong. It was the furthest thing from hell-bent—it was soft, it was gray, it was raining, and most importantly, it took its time.

They were halfway through Kamoshida’s Palace when Ryuji realized it; the sheer amount of power that hindsight gave him made him pause long enough to get clocked out by a Shadow.

Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It can’t matter, because he would never, ever do anything to fuck up what he has. Not again.

Wait, no, that’s not true. Even before Kamoshida, he’s never had something like this. He’s never had someone like him. He’s never had someone who’s so entirely on the same wavelength as him, who’d have his back even when his was against a wall. Kurusu Akira is…ethereal. Out of this world. Cool as fuck. (Hot as fuck, too.) If you lined up the entirety of Tokyo and told him he could pick one. One person out of the whole lineup to be his friend, he’d have his answer in a heartbeat.

See, now that isn’t something that changed with hindsight—Ryuji’s known that he’s been in love with Akira since before they completed Kamoshida’s Palace. And when he figured it out, he didn’t feel shock. His eyes didn’t widen, his heart didn’t start thumping like crazy. It’s more like he just scratched his head in a huh kind of way. It felt like his life had been waiting for that day in April, like everything was at a standstill until he finally met Kurusu Akira. It made sense. Everything just makes sense when Akira’s involved.

Which just makes this all the more fucked up.

He knocks his head back against the wall, eyes stuck on the raindrops’ rapidly moving shadows on his bedroom floor. Karma. That’s probably what’s happening. The world still hasn’t forgiven him for losing his shit, so they decided to make him pine for the only person that he can’t afford to lose.

He can’t even stomach the idea of trying to get over it, to try and put distance between himself and Akira. He spent a lifetime waiting for a miracle, for someone who didn’t know existed. He’s not giving up a single second of time with him. That’s probably why the world relentlessly shits on him; he’s selfish enough to keep the feelings that he has. But he can’t bring himself to regret that decision. Not with the way his breath hitches in his throat whenever Akira walks into the room.

Ryuji’s in love with his best friend, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it. He’s accepted it. Just like how the sky is blue, or that he well and truly hates Calculus. It’s a factor of life.

The rain seemed to fall harder, droplets sounding like rigorous hail against the windowpane. He lets out a long yawn.

Ryuji’s in love with his best friend, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

That’s not the reason why he can’t sleep at night.

Akira is a quiet guy. He gets his point across with as few words as possible, as if each letter costs him fifty yen to say out loud. So he speaks through his expression; a quirk of his brow, a tilt of his head, a certain smile is enough to carry half of the conversation.

And, every once in a while, Akira gets a look.

It comes up at the weirdest times—when the two of them baton pass in the Metaverse, when Ryuji eats ramen too fast and gets sick, when he helps an old lady cross the street. Plenty of times it’s because Ryuji is doing something incredibly stupid (like when he said that the square root of sixteen is six, because if you just get rid of the one, then that makes sense, right?), or when they’re laughing so hard neither of them can breathe. But sometimes it comes up in quieter moments, too. The two of them talking quietly in the attic at Leblanc, or when Akira confesses that he’s relieved Ryuji’s always there for him. (As if there would ever be a time where he won’t be.)

The look is subtle enough to miss but easy to find if someone knows what they’re looking for. The usual attentiveness that resides in Akira’s eyes disappears, in its place a softer gaze; his pupils get dilated, and the edge of his eyes get all crinkled like Valentine’s tissue paper. A half-smile rests on his lips, never quite turning into a full-blown grin, but that’s okay. For some reason, it all reminds Ryuji of the moon. Of soft moonlight. Of streetlamps on empty roads.

Ryuji’s in love with his best friend, and there’s a small, tiny, infinitesimal chance that his best friend might love him back.

His eyelids slide shut, though he knows that it won’t be enough to let him rest.

Realistically, he’s probably wrong. Akira isn’t in love with him, and he’s only seeing what he wants to see. With every eligible person seeming to fall in love with him at some point in time, how would it even be possible that Akira would love him?

He rubs his eyes, desperate to get rid of the unending fatigue that’s plagued him for months on end. It doesn’t work.

Bad excuse. Akira does love him, just like he loves everyone he encounters and befriends and ends up risking his life for. Ryuji’s surprised Akira hasn’t passed out yet, given his bleeding heart for the entire population of Tokyo.

Lightning flashes and thunder rumbles as he rubs his eyes harder.

But what if he wasn’t wrong? What if the signals he’s seeing aren’t based on misunderstood yearning?

When his eyes start to burn, his fingers move up to his hair.

There’s no way in hell he’d ever risk losing his best friend. His partner. His Akira. It’s not something he can gamble. It’s not worth it.

He begins to tug, hands shaking, and he can barely feel the sting of pain from nearly pulling his hair out his scalp.

It’s not worth it. He decided that in the very beginning.

Ryuji buries his face into his palms.

But he is so, so exhausted of being tired.

Lightning flashes, and for a split-second, his room is bright.

Fuck it.

By the time thunder rumbles through his apartment, he’s already out the front door.

His sneakers squelch against the wet concrete, soaking his unsocked feet. He’s sprinting fast enough that the street lights around him blur, and he can feel quick breaths getting pulled out of him. It takes him a few seconds to realize that he forgot to wear a raincoat, but he doesn’t care.

Akira is his best friend. Akira accepted him, flaws and all. Akira loves him, one way or another. That’s what held him back. He can’t risk losing that.

Ryuji quickly checks both sides before running across the street, wiping the rain off his brow, and keeps going.

But that’s what should’ve pushed him into confessing sooner. Because if that’s all true, then that can only ever mean that Akira would accept this part of him too, right?

He jerks out of the way as he almost barrels over a fire hydrant, making him step into a deep puddle. It doesn’t slow him down.

Maybe he would’ve realized it sooner if he wasn’t too fucking tired to think straight.

His lungs begin to complain, his breaths turning to wheezes, but he ignores it in favor of going faster.

Too late for that now. All the matters now is to talk to—

He skids to a halt.

In front of him—eyes wide, hair drenched, no shoes—stands Kurusu Akira.

Ryuji’s mouth falls open, and for a minute, he almost laughs. Of course. He should’ve known. Just as he’s willing to sprint to Akira at an unholy hour in the night…

He smiles sheepishly at him, and Ryuji feels his chest constrict in the loveliest way possible.

…Akira would do the exact same thing for him.

The rain slows, and the thunder ceases for a moment. The world pauses long enough for both of them to speak in the same breath, the same heartbeat:

“I’m in love with you.”

[kaeyas-beloved]

The Lost & The Pained {Chapter 14 ~ Pictures}

The Lost & The Pained Chapter Masterlist

Summary of last time: (Y/N) along with Midoriya, Iida and Todoroki were admitted into hospital after facing off against the Hero Killer Stain. Although she won't outright admit any details, Mido and Todo can tell that (Y/N) is hiding something.

Amono and Dabi had a moment on the roof of the hospital before getting called back to base. Dabi reminisced about old times before actually leaving.

Now: (Y/N) has just made it back home and is about to get an earful from her explosive mother and brother.

Also! Just a reminder and warning that this book does have elements of blood, torture and drugging. In this chapter, a somewhat graphic description is written. I'll have bold exclamation marks for when it starts and when it ends in case some wish to skip it!

~

"GOD DAMNIT AGAIN!?" Katsuki and my mother screamed, their expressions and tones making it seem like they were clones of one another. In all honesty, they basically are.

"Calm down!" I say, cool as a cucumber. I've been through this routine before and hopefully if I'm calm it'll mellow out the two blonds. "I told you, it was just a little backstreet throw down - nothing to worry about and nothing I couldn't handle..."

"YOU WERE ADMITTED TO THE HOSPITAL!!!" Mom shouted. I swear I could see her hair turning grey faster by the second.

Things were getting heated and when I took a step back both of the angry humans advanced a step forward.

"Hey now..." you're a rock star - I MEAN, "it's all part of the job description!" Their eyes practically bulged out of their sockets with that comment.

"WHA- WHY YOU!!"

3rd Person POV

While (Y/N) stood before her fuming relatives, Masaru trying to calm the situation down, The League of Villains were plotting some more bullshit to enact.

"We already have plans for the summer, so why are we discussing more for the girl?" Shigaraki rasped, slowly scratching his neck, red eyes glaring at the group of males seated together at the bar.

Two nights ago Airaki called up the entire League, though at the time some members were unavailable, so the meeting was set back a few days.

Airaki spared a glance around his small group of close comrades before eyeing Shigaraki once more, a glare present within his cold forest green eyes. He never liked the way Shigaraki worked, finding that sometimes there were too many gaps in his plans or simply just the way he acted pissed him off. Yet he still went along with him, seeing as at the beginning of their agreement it seemed the League was the only way to get back at (Y/N) and what she did to them.

"We are all well aware of future plans," Airaki sneered, unsheathing a dagger from a strap around his thigh and started to idly play with it, voice evening out for his next words "but until then I figured adding a little bit of... excitement might rage the growing fire even more..."

To Shigaraki it seemed like too much work, why go through more for a plan that's already chock full of twists and turns? Yet he still heard them out, something in the way the greenette spoke catching his interest.

Amono stood when the signal to go on was given, making his way to the cabinet he always kept locked. With a turn of the key the doors opened and he reached in, retrieving a valuable item.

"We decided that releasing these to those she's closest to, plus the media, would defiantly have an effect" Airaki continued, his smirk growing at the thought of what the contents within the container could do.

The face of the villain group stopped his scratching for a moment, taking the outstretched metal box from the kinetic quirked male.

With just one peek, Shigaraki was already on board with this bonus plan.

~

First Person POV

I walked down the sidewalk to UA, another day of teaching about to start. It was unusually quiet for a Friday morning, but who was I to complain?

Rounding the corner I nearly ran into a camera man who was only one of many men and women bombarding the school gates. Briefly I wondered if something had happened or if they were just there for All Might again. Nevertheless I still had to say something to the guy I nearly rammed into.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to knock into you!" I apologize, offering a sheepish smile. The guy turned around a smile of his own.

"It's quite alright- (H/N)!"

Shit- they were here for me weren't they!?

"(H/N)? Where!?" They were!!! But why!?

Instantly the domino effect kicked in and everyone in the crowd surrounding the front entrance erupted into shouts. And me? I was swarmed by those closest to me. I couldn't make out any coherent voice since all the sounds mingling into one loud noise but it consisted of a boat load of questions.

As I fought off the crowd of news reporters something rough wrapped itself around my waist, freaking me out. I took a quick look at it and found that it was a familiar cloth scarf and before I could do anything I was yanked up off the ground. Following the line of cloth once I landed on the lip of the school wall, I was proven right that it was Aizawa who got me out of that mess.

"Thanks..." I said with a short nod, surveying the mass of people that pooled below us. Camera men pointed their cameras up and took shots while reporters held up mics, still spitting out questions so fast that I got a headache.

"Come on, let's head inside..." the ravenette sighed, pulling me down to the ground by the back of my shirt. I ended up falling ungracefully on my ass, a comical oof escaping me. From behind me a barely audible snicker sounded from my long time friend and my eyes narrowing into a playful glare despite him not being able to see it.

"Don't think I didn't hear that!" The lazy man seemed to kick his ass into gear because his pace quickened ever so slightly, almost like he thinks he can get away from me.

Well he can't apparently because I caught up to him in three seconds flat...

As we walked in silence down the halls a question stared to gnaw at my mind and it wouldn't go away. So I did the most logical thing and asked it.

"Shota, why are the students staring at me?" Dark coloured eyes spared me a glance before they returned to in front of him, his ever present neutral expression deepening into a slight frown.

"You didn't see the news?" He answered a question with a question. My brows furrowed.

"No, I was in a hurry this morning and didn't have time to sit down and watch. What does that have to do with the staring though?" Aizawa sighed again - obviously I'm missing something here! Before he could answer me we entered the 1-A classroom where all 20 students awaited us, with something to tell us too apparently.

As I parted from Aizawa's side to my usual window spot Yaoyorozu stands and calls out to me, stopping me in my tracks. Her tone was what caught me off guard, she sounded... distressed? Anxious too perhaps. Gazing over my shoulder my eyes meet her's for a moment until they trail down to the object in her hand.

A photograph. Two photos to be more specific. Although the picture part of it wasn't facing me I could still see that something is written on the back in thick, red marker.

"Bakugou-san... this morning many of us received these in the mail... they're rather graphic and... and they're..." she trails off, eyes down casting like she's unable to meet my (e/c) eyes anymore. Now that it's been said, as I scanned the rest of the room many did in fact have their own pair of pictures laying face down on the desks. Not everyone had them, but a good three quarters did.

Wordlessly I waved my hand, motioning for the teens to bring me them. One by one they did until I had a relatively thick stack, all of them having a single word inscribed on it's back. As I collected them I was able to get a better look at what was written, some said LIAR, other's said TRAITOR or PATHETIC.

When I had all of the pictures in my hand I met the eyes of Aizawa. I'm not sure what I was looking for when I gazed at him, maybe an answer to what these mean? All I got was a nod, telling me all I needed to know, just look. Hesitantly beginning to turn each and every picture over I went through the pile slowly, the content just growing gruesomer by the second.

!!!!!!

It started with pictures of me chained to the wall, some have me baring my teeth as I tug on the metal restraints in an attempt to get at the one taking the picture. Some just show me with a lifeless expression as I sat against the wall.

After they became images of me beaten and bruised, the chains moving from being nailed into the wall to somewhere above and out of shot. The clothes I wore were torn in various places and died red with my blood. A couple of them have it where I was barely standing and a few had me on my knees, head bowed with my arms still raised high above my head. In these there was a pool of crimson at my feet that only seemed to grow in size. One had it where the wall behind was painted in my blood.

Dark purple and blue bruises coloured my exposed neck and arms along with thin and thick cuts, blood ran in a tiny streams down my nose, out the corner of my mouth and from somewhere within my hair line.

!!!!!!

It was a never ending collage of my demise.

With each photo I went through, placing them face down on the desk I stood closest to, I finally reached the last one. By now my hands have already started shaking, my legs felt like they would give out at any second and I felt hot tears of years of hurt and frustration barely being kept at bay.

I didn't flip this one over, it was different than all the others that came before. Instead of just a single word in red it was a sentence written in black.

She can't be trusted

One shaky inhale later and I turned it over. What I was met with was no image filled with agony and pain, but a picture of evil intent in the eyes of the muse. It was me, I was the muse of this picture, like all of rest, only this one has me dressed in clean clothes, no injures marring my face or neck. My eyes, though, were not their usual (e/c) but a glowing red and the smile I wore had no joy, instead it held so much malicious intent. It was the smile - no - the smirk, the look a villain would have and it made me sick.

"I think I'd be best... if all of you forgot you ever saw these..." my voice was barely above a whisper when I finally spoke, yet everyone apparently could hear me loud and clear.

"Forget!? (Y/N)-chan we can't forget something like that!" Midoriya cried, standing from his seat. In front of him Katsuki glared at me, a snarl twitching again his lips.

"For once I have to side with Deku. You expect me to not think about this after seeing pictures of you chained and laying on the ground bleeding!?"

Slowly my eyes trailed up from the plastic within my hands, scanning the entire room. Many nodded in agreement to what was said.

"I know it'll be hard but I need you guys to. After all, this doesn't concern-"

A ringing noise pierced the tense atmosphere and for a moment I thought it to be the bell until coming to the realization that it was actually my phone. Dropping the current argument I pull my phone out, an unsaved number displayed at the top. It didn't have to be saved into my phone for me to know who it was though, it was a number I was familiar with and knew by heart.

Not wanting to waste a second I tap the green answer button, lifting the device up to my ear.

"Hello?"

"I see you've received our little gift~" a low but sweet voice rang out, the response given setting me on edge. If he knew to call at this very moment then that means he can see and potentially hear me.

"I wouldn't show any signs of distress if I were you doll... wouldn't want to scare the kids now would you?" a different but still undeniably masculine voice said.

It was Airaki and Touy- Dabi, both of them sounding like they were having a blast toying with me. In the distant background the click of what I believed to be computer keys could be heard and I briefly hoped it was Amono. Briefly.

Something shifted within me. Before, I would let my emotions take control and cloud my judgement, but now that I've had a run in with all four of my old friends a small voice that's grown so loud in my mind is telling me to get it together. That they are not who I use to know and that if I wanted to do anything about this situation, to maybe even fix it somehow, that I have to use my head now more than my heart.

And not let lingering feelings get in the way.

"What do ya need?" Playing it like it was someone I'm acquainted with, which really isn't that far from the truth, I replied casually.

"That's a good doll. We need you to meet us at the location we send you in exactly one week at three. Don't be late." As soon as the blue fire quirked villain ended the call a text notification popped up under a different, yet still familiar, number - a location and time attached with it.

Later, I tell myself, I'll look at it later.

Silence hung in the air, breaths held as those around me waited for something to happen, maybe for me to say something. Across the room Aizawa stared at me, onyx eyes holding a single question, who was on the other end of that phone call?

"Like I said, it's best of all of you don't worry about these photos..." I muttered, "I've got to go, don't wait up on me..."

"(Y/N)!" The monotone voice of Aizawa shouted but I merely waved at him over my shoulder, pushing past. I have things to do and people to see.

I realize now that maybe I can't do this alone, I can't find those that I've lost twelve years ago without a little help.

Just whose help do I need exactly?

~~~~~ Well, it's back! While writing this chapter I was reminded of how much I love this plot that and I'm really happy to be writing this story again :)

Sorry if this chapter isn't the best, I still gotta get back into the swing of writing for BnHA again.

Thank you to those who are still reading this despite the couple month gap, you guys are awesome (even if there are only a few of you) :)

See ya in the next chapter!

[moon-beam95]

Friends and Family

By Moon-beam95

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Pairing: Ben Hargreeves x Reader

You weren't entirely sure how it happened but one moment you were being held hostage and the next you've seemed to have gained two limpets. One a sarcastic shit starter and the other an angry bad-ass with a knife kink.

You'd just gotten in from a long day of College followed by hours at work, you had just toed off your shoes when you felt a sharp pain in the back of your head and the world tilted before turning black. You came too, tied to one of your kitchen chairs while some idiot ransacked your front room.

"Ugh" your head ached like fuck "Really, what the fuck did you hit me with?"

"Shut up" the figure said slamming a drawer closed, another you hadn't seen slapped you upside the head, yeah ouch as if you weren’t in enough pain.

'In case you haven't noticed, this place is a shit hole. The most expensive thing in this place is those shiny ass boots you have on."

"I said shut it," the first man snarled.

"Wow," you said raising your eyebrows, "just trying to make a little conversation."

You tilt your head to see the other man before jerking it towards the first, as if saying get a load of this guy. "But, seriously, fuckin' moon shoes, kinda throws off the whole ascetic you got going on."

The silent one said nothing, exchanging a glance with his partner, who stalked towards you pulling out a gun.

You let out a low whistle. "Yikes, someone's a little touchy."

The man cocked the gun as two more figures appeared behind the gun roaring thug wearing black eye masks. One grabbed the first and the curly haired mask wearer moved to the silent thug.

While grateful for the save all that was running through your mind was. "How the fuck do you people keep getting in my house?"

As a fight broke out your two saviours seemed to have the upper hand as they wrestled through the flat banging into everything.

"Hey watch the TV"

"Ouch that gotta hurt"

"Careful! Blood is a bitch to get out."

The thugs thoroughly out if it, the knife toting hero cuts you lose while the other rocks back on his heels. "You know most people would be grateful."

Springing out of the chair, you ignored him pushing past. Seeing the mess you drop to the floor and gave a wail.

"Hector."

"Errr Lady, you ok?"

They crowd you wanting to see what caused such a sound only to see you carefully cradling a cactus above a broken plant pot. The curly haired one gave a laugh, but knife kink just looked extremely bewildered, before tentatively patting you on your shoulder.

"There, there," he said. "Sorry about the mess and err, your loss but we gotta go."

And with that remark they were gone and you were left with two passed out thugs gazing around a wrecked apartment, looking mournfully at Hector, wondering how the hell you were going to explain this to your mother.

The next night after a long conversation on home safety with your mother and questions by the police the doorbell rang. Opening it you were greeted by the two men from the night before.

"You," you said, shaking a finger at them dramatically.

"Klaus" said the curly haired one.

"Diego" said knife kink.

They held out a rather large plant pot containing a small cactus wrapped in a sparkly green bow.

"For you know," Diego snorted, "Hector."

You opened the door further and invited them in taking the offering cooing and saying. "I shall call you Judith." Before kicking the door closed.

That was the start of a rather strange, albeit dangerous friendship. You learned that Klaus could see the dead and that Diego despite being extraordinarily good with knives, it was not his power but could in fact hold his breath for an astonishing amount of time. Which, BTW, prompted a lot of jokes.

You three often stumbled into weird situations and you watched them fight off crime from the sidelines providing a running commentary. They were beyond cute, despite often bickering you could see how much they cared for each other. Klaus seeking any sort of thrill to hide from the dead and Diego a total mother hen, a worrier.

It was one such situation that saw you meet Ben. Who worried about Klaus' disappearing and thinking he was out scoring drugs saw the two of you and followed you intent on warning you away from his brother. Which quite frankly was adorable!

You can see why he got the wrong end of the stick, you were after all skulking around an alley in the dark.

After leaving the two brothers you began the trek home, slipping down alleys to make it quicker. You could hear footsteps behind you and sped up only to let out a shriek when a hand grabbed you, spun you and pressed you against the wall.

Eyes wide, you stared up at the Hooded Hottie™ caging you in, one arm across your neck the other above your head.  You gulped as the boy glared down at you, despite the situation you noticed that he was rather beautiful, even when looking like he was inches away from killing you or perhaps that was what made him so attractive.

He opened his mouth but paused at the sound of people running and suddenly he was wrenched from you as you gulped air. Klaus and Diego. You slid down the wall, body shaking as they stared at the boy.

"Ben," said Klaus. "What the hell?"

Ben, you thought, their brother, as Diego helped you up and dusted you off

"Why" Diego bit out when he didn't answer, "did you have Y/N by the throat?"

His eyes flickered between his brother and the girl who shifted behind Diego more, eyes wide in fear. Diego would never allow Klaus to buy drugs which meant that he had royally fucked up. He lowered his hood.

"I thought you'd gone out to get drugs."

"What" Diego said crossing his arms.

"He's been acting shifty, leaving at all hours, more hyper than usual."

Klaus laughed, slinging an arm around Ben's shoulders, tugging at his cheeks cooing. "Awe, so sweet. He cares."

Ben slapped his hand away looking at the half hidden girl, before rubbing his neck rather sheepishly.

"I'm so sorry about all that."

You stepped out, smiling. "Eh, shit happens."

He let out a laugh, grin stretching across his face. You blushed, he really was cute.

The brothers looked on in amazement at you both flirting.

"You act like this is an everyday occurrence."

"Well, when your friends with these two," you trail off, jerking a thumb in their direction. "Also a guy usually buys me dinner before we get to the whole choking thing."

His laugh rang out, echoing throughout the alley and you were gone, never knowing that the sentiments were returned.

The three amigo became four and you all often holed up in your apartment. It wasn't uncommon that you'd get home from work or school and find them there, having tea with your mom, helping make dinner, just making themselves at home.

Your crush on Ben grew and you found yourself a blushing mess often lapsing into silences. You were drew in by his rather obvious devotion to his brothers and his mischievous personality .

Unknown to you, Ben had noticed you change in attitude whenever he was around vs how you acted when it was just his brothers. He hated that you didn't feel comfortable around him, especially since he was becoming rather attracted to you.

Ben scarcely talked about his powers and you soon found out why. All four of you had just left the cinema after watching a musical (Diego's choice) when on the way to the pizza shop you came across a robbery. A rather large group if people holding up a gas station. The boys jumped into action and you stepped a safe distance away but still close enough that you still had a full view of the fight. It never ceases to amaze you how they moved so separate yet as part of a unit. You were eager to see how Ben would fit into the dynamic.

With Klaus and Diego getting quickly over run, you let out a gasp as Ben stepped into the centre of the room drawing fire. He doubled over, clutching his stomach before springing back up and tentacles burst forth from his chest. They whipped round subduing the predators. His eyes caught yours and his face went white. Now that the robbers had been dealt with you all quickly made your way from the crime scene. Slipping down an alley you all pause, catching your breath. You turn to face Ben and he shifts not looking at you.

Diving at him, his eyes go wide as you fling your arms around him, he raises his arm pulling you close. He breathes in your scent, relishing having you close. You squeal into his ear -

"That was so cool."

He lets out a relieved laugh, before you pull back and whack him upside the head.

"How could you do something so dangerous, idiot."

He stares on in shock as you rant, Klaus in the background letting out a mournful "You never say that to me."

Ben's eyes drink in your impassioned figure, admiring the fire in your eyes. Steeling himself he surges forward, one hand wrapping round your waist the other reaching to cup your face and pressed his lips against yours.

You pull back blushing in shock and he starts to apologise before you return the favour.

So there you were down a grotty alley pressed against a blood covered boy while his brothers hooted and whistled in the background.

It was about damn time.

[alltingfinns]

A Scandal in Belgravia

So I’m back on this.

The swoosh on some sped up footage in the previously, don’t remember noticing that.

This episode’s start gets so much funnier if you read some of the fic written between this and the previous episode.

Silly song now becomes more dramatic in TRF.

What did Irene offer Jim to get him so riled up? If it’s the plot plane plan that would explain why Sherlock is needed alive. But his emotional reaction... maybe he’s already been trying to get it on his own. Indicates possibly that Jim has been looking for a way to get to Mycroft.

“You’re typing a lot.”

This montage is nicely done.

Arguing about the blog.

The pouncing on the title.

He’s so hurt. He knows ash!

“We do watch the news.”

“You said boring and switched the channel.”

First time where “people” = John.

And the hat.

“It’s time.” I never thought about the waiting period.

Ehh, Hudson called up to the next floor so John’s room? Boys?

Ha cool, a SAAB. An old one too. I’d guess a 900 model from the early nineties.

Lestrade probably makes these calls a lot.

I get Sherlock’s confusion, he’s just in a sheet it’d make sense for him to be humiliated.

Their silent conversation + John’s acceptance of the absurdity.

That was a pretty long look on Sherlock’s lap and then asking about pants.

The Swedish subtitles on Netflix just referred to John as ”kronans gosse” I love it!

John took the queen liking his blog as a point in their argument.

I always like looking at John during the sheet bit.

Mycroft and John conversing in subtext that you need to remember their original conversation from a whole series/three episodes ago. And people think johnlock is too subtextual.

They made “the woman” a work title clearly to explain why Sherlock would refer to her that way. A bit harder to work in the context from ACD canon. It would be weird if Sherlock in modern times went “a credit to your gender” for defeating him.

Sherlock’s reaction Mycroft’s veiled assertion settles the question, I think. He’s making a “damn, he’s got me there” face. Mainly because John’s presence, if we considers his previous statement. If it were just him and Mycroft he’d just say “just because I haven’t done it doesn’t mean I can’t understand it!”

Btw, in case you think my typing speed is phenomenal I am hitting pause when something gets really interesting to me.

The parallel of checking the pictures have the “obvious” reading of romantic set up. But Sherlock is still learning details of a case he has been given so another reading is that while he’s targeting her she’s targeting him.

My reading is backed up by Sherlock’s immediate demeanor. His interest in her didn’t really appear until he found out she didn’t ask for anything. Blackmailers are a dime a dozen, but someone making a point of threat against the reputation of the BRF without asking for direct compensation? That’s someone with a plan and someone who can give him the kick he feeds of from casework.

John getting the last word in only for Sherlock to get the laterer word in.

Pinching an ashtray from the aforementioned BRF, whom himself mentioned as his first client with a navy, just to make John laugh? Some things are priceless but for everything else there’s MasterCard.

Okay, I had to back up a bit but: I don’t know who’s getting these pictures for Irene, but the last one that makes her smile is focused on John. She sees Sherlock more naked in the pictures where he’s fully clothed in the back of a cab than when he was in just a sheet on the pavement.

More parallels. This is really about their similarities. Could still be considered romantic foreshadowing “they’re made of the same cloth” type.

Ah yes, punch me.

That little dialogue snippet about “punch me” usually being subtext is what got me to first watch this show.

In general I have a lot of issues with how they handled Irene. But I especially don’t think I get the nudity in this scene. It reveals to Sherlock immediately that his ruse was all in vain since she either a) knew he was coming anyway or b) usually greet priests in distress while stark naked and might therefor just be stark raving.

Unflappable John Watson. Oh dear, my flat mate who I just beat up is sitting in front of a naked dominatrix with his vicar collar between her teeth. “I’ve missed something, haven’t I?”

He doesn’t like being a third wheel either. “I had tea too! Just so you know. In case you thought Sherlock got tea at the palace by himself. I was there too. The tea was lovely. Just the right temperature.”

Dammit.

Now I want tea.

Wait wait wait! When did John put his “date” shoes on? Only time it makes sense is when Sherlock was looking through his disguises. (He definitively wouldn’t wear them to traipse around the muddy crime scene.) Maybe they’re part of his “battle uniform”? Also obviously Sherlock can only “deduce” date because he knows what shoes John wears on dates. This isn’t really clothed people are easier to deduce.

How is he not deducing the heck out of her make up and ear piercing? Is it because she’s acting so extraordinary that her indicators become harder to contextualise?

Or is that whole thing just a plot hole?

And her comes her actual opening chess move. Nudity and banter was just setting up the pieces.

“Somebody loves you.” She pressed John’s big red “DO NOT PRESS” button right away. Later she says Jim told her how to play the Holmes brothers, but he definitively gave some pointers on John as well.

There’s something about John’s facial movements when Irene says he knows exactly where to look. Hard to compare with the sheet scene because of the different angles. But yeah, John is bi.

“You do borrow my laptop” with such an angry glare.

Wait are Irene’s shoes those shoes that are expensive because they’re red on the bottom? (I do not care enough to google their names.)

And it’s when John starts to smile that Sherlock does his verbal keysmash. Officially Ben said it was because Irene was paying attention to John instead of him, but she does that a number of times previously and has had quite a moment of getting cosy at John. But up until then John has been a bit standoffish. Of course you can only take so much of a pretty lady flirting with you before your smile reflex gets activated. Also he whips his head immediately at Sherlock in medical concern for his friend and Sherlock can speak clearly again.

Sherlock thinks he knows her game now as he makes his move getting her to confirm that the pictures are in the room.

Imagine the egg on his face if John hadn’t managed the smoke alarm in time.

“Amazing how fire exposes our priorities” should be part of a collection of lines that are only said once but thematically repeated throughout the show.

Some would argue maybe “I really hope you don’t have a baby in there” could be added but I don’t think it could be considered as repeated enough thematically.

Sherlock being his usual demanding self about turning off the fire alarm. The fool! Doesn’t he know how hard fire alarms are to turn off? (Maybe just a problem for me...)

Okay sure, easy enough with a gun, but impractical as a long term solution.

Umm, excuse me why does he go “no disrespect but you were clearly born in the 80s” in an episode from 2012? The most she’d be is 32, so clearly she looks at most like that then. Why would she be insulted by that? Also he earlier called a dude unhealthy, stupid and with bad breath in front of him without clarifying level of respect. So basically he’s needling her by adding that. That’s the most positive spin it can get.

John apologising for not stopping /forewarning about a whole bunch of trained killers sweeping in? That is diehard loyalty.

She’s staring hard at him as fire exposes his priority.

She actually does give him a clue by looking down the moment he looks at her. Never thought of that.

He heard something click wrong, looked at her for additional clue so she looks to the side “get out of the way”.

I love that John’s priority is medically inclined in the action scene, checking the vital signs of the guy that got shot.

“Observant?” “Flattered?” Honestly he shouldn’t be so surprised by the first bit as it was obvious some kind of observation + deduction got Sherlock the code.

As usual Sherlock gives zero fucks about gun safety. I feel John at some point is going to tie him down and lecture him about it. “We do not scratch our heads with the barrel of a gun, and we don’t call for the police by shooting in the air!”

You know if you’re knocking him out cold regardless, you don’t need him to drop the phone first. You just wanted the beating to be literal.

“He’ll be fine. I’ve used it on loads of my friends.” Yeah no, tell the doctor what chemical knockout drug you just put in a former drug addict!!

I wonder how much of dream Adler is actual Adler speaking to a drugged out Sherlock.

Could be nothing with the only real part being “hush now, returning your coat”. Would make sense for a dreaming brain to jumble the two cases together.

Start of series 2 we get to see Sherlock’s bedroom while John’s remain a mystery after 4 series.

John is not on the top of his game this episode. “What woman?”

And so it begins.

Mycroft does not have “shut up Hudson” privilege.

That whole phone noise discussion is punctuated with embarrassment.

Ah the gaping jaw that set the sails for the lestrolly ship.

“Christmas is canceled!” I love when John banters with Sherlock.

Sherlock is mean to Molly, but to be fair she kind of blundered a bit with the others and Sherlock complaining about John being away was clearly something he told in confidence. Telling Greg and John that their loved ones are betraying the trust put in them is general misanthropy, but Sherlock probably feels justified in needling Molly about a crush that he figures none of them know anyway.

Oh John’s look there. Greg clearly knows too what is coming but John has the recognition factor.

“Oh shit. It was me. Still me? She still has a thing for me?”

For a sort of dramatic moment it still has one of John’s absolutely funniest facial journeys. “Wait, you apologised? You know what an apology is? Are you feeling well?”

Obviously Irene’s text signal gets a lot of funny moments, but nothing will beat the timing of this one. And now I am imagining Jim with a pair of binoculars sitting across the street and telling Irene “now, send it now, it’ll be fucking priceless!”

And Greg “wait really?” When you’re not sure what your consultant can do to surprise you next.

I believe I made a post about it earlier but Jeanette’s boyfriend just said he’s been keeping track up till 57 on text messages that his platonic flat mate gets where the signal is a woman moaning.

“Do you ever reply?”

Jeanette starts working on her break up speech about then, I believe.

Molly nervously gulps a drink. Now Molly is everyone’s favorite John mirror. Medical professional with a crush on Sherlock, and whose favored type of outfit involves knitwear. John usually takes a drink at emotionally difficult times. Is this Molly handling her rejection, or showing what John is doing/will do without showing John?

Mycroft. If they passed a new law why would Sherlock know about it before you?

“How did Sherlock recognize her from... not-her-face?”

Mycroft answers with a smile and leaving the room.

“I got plans”

“No” I know you. If it’s a date you’ve probably bungled it already. Regardless if it is or isn’t you’ll still prioritize my brother because you always do.

John really goes for the superconfident strategy when dating, huh? “I always thought I was great.”

“I’ll even walk your dog!”

“I don’t have a dog!”

“No, because that was the last one...”

Always thought you were a great boyfriend, huh?

When even your landlady who got out of her marriage through execution thinks you bungled it, you probably bungled it.

Think I’ll break here and continue the rest of the episode tomorrow.

[jmeddows2]

Purple Thunder (Roger Taylor Series) - Part 3

(present/old) Roger Taylor x  Reader

Notes: Sorry for grammar mistakes/ weird sentence structures. English is not my first language but anyways, I gave it a go. Enjoy and feel free to submit requests, feedback etc. So there’s loads of dialogue.. sorry for that??

Words: 1822

Part 1 Part 2

Part 3:

“Wtf, dad? “ Lola‘s voice filled Roger‘s apartment in Kensington, as he was sat on his huge black leather couch, watching her pace around. “What‘s wrong, honey?“ “Don‘t 'honey' me Paps. What‘s going on between you and Y/N? I’ve seen pictures!" “Nothing‘s going on. She came down to Surrey to talk music and I gave her a ride home. You’re overreacting, honey!" "I know when you‘re lying, Paps! I can see the way you’re looking at her, you used to look at mum just the same way! Dad, you’re never this affectionate, not even in public. Hell, you don‘t even properly hold Sarina‘s hand. And now this? That‘s disgusting! She could be my sister! She could be your daughter! You‘re 50 years older than her, goddamn!!!“

 Lola was now shouting at her dad, letting anger take over. Roger just sat there in silence. Listening carefully to his daughter, knowing that everything is true. Every single word. But why did he feel guilty about it? Nothing‘s happened anyway. That‘s what helped Lola calm down. Nothing‘s happened anyway. That‘s what Roger told himself when he was tossing and turning in his bed late at night, thinking about one thing only. 

 But something’s happened, deep inside of him.

But it was wrong. So wrong. His heart began to speed up just thinking about the previous day. Reminiscing. Reminiscing how your face lit up when you discovered his drum skins in the studio, or when you had heard his new song. Your sparkling eyes, getting wider and wider during the tour through his house.

You, sitting by the lake with a stern look on your face, scribbling down some lyrics. When your eyes met his, he felt it. There was an exciting feeling, deep inside of him. But he tried to shrug it off - without success.

  One look on the clock. 2 am. He couldn‘t get himself to sleep, so he decided to go for a walk. Down by the Thames on a bench was his secret hideaway spot. Roger first discovered it after he got into a heated argument with Tim Staffel, his former Smile band mate.

He found himself in that peaceful spot quite often, even when Queen started to take off, to just get some air. Arguments happened to literally be on the daily Queen agenda during those times. It‘d been a while since he had actually been here, but nothing had changed.

The night was quiet and peaceful as the moon lit up the river Thames. Slight sounds of traffic could be heard from the city. As he got closer to his secret spot, he noticed that the bench was already occupied. Roger was not sure if he should approach the bench anyway, despite not knowing if this person was a serial killer or something like that. (LOL, jk guys be careful though!)

As he got closer and closer this person looked even more familiar to him.

 “Y/N? What are you doing here?” You flinched when you saw a man approach you, until you recognized his figure. 

 “Roger?? Ahh, just couldn’t sleep. I could ask you the exact same thing” you answered as he plunged himself next to you on the bench. You sat there in silence for a few minutes, until he decided to speak up again, looking directly into yours eyes:

“Will you now tell me what’s really going on?” he put his arm around your shoulder, wiping away a few of your tears. He felt it again this incredible warmth and completeness.

 Yes. You’ve been crying. After a heated argument with Josh, you stormed out of your flat. In situations like these, your past self would have already been drugged down, drunk and fooling around with a hot stranger. But not this time.

 “Everything’s alright Roger, seriously” wiping away a few new tears. “Look, I get it if you don’t want to talk. Especially to me, but if I can help you out… You know I’m here for you, love. C’mere, at least take my coat you’re freezing”, with that he handed you his coat and even through protest, he insisted on you to take it. Being all snuggled up into his coat made you feel safe in this cold night. Surrounded by Roger’s warmth. The coat smelled just like him, heavenly.

“Now you‘re freezing, I feel so guilty“ you snuggled closer into his side. ”Love, don‘t worry I‘m more than alright like this“ wrapping his arms tighter around you. His cheeky smile made you laugh.

“You know, I used to come down here every so often when I was younger. Guess my secret spot is not much of a secret anymore.” he laughed. “You remind me a lot of my younger self. Carefree, not really giving hoot about what others think.” He was probably implying your various drug encounters and one night stands. He must have done his homework on you then, reading the daily papers. Roger was also not so innocent in the past, living life the fullest. You’d done your homework on him, considering these terms as well.

 “Those were some crazy times. I’m sure you’d have enjoyed it, it was unbelievable, really. You’d not believe my stories if I told them to you, love. You would have been a perfect fit.” “You think so?” The 70’s had always been your favorite time period, whether it was in relation to music or the lifestyle.  

“100% sure, love. I would have gone crazy to have such a beautiful girl like you on my arm and we would have done some bonkers shit.” The thought of being with Roger in the 70′s made your heart flutter. “YOU think that I‘m beautiful?“ “Obviously, love. But you most certainly don‘t need me to tell you that.“ his smile fell.

Oh right. Josh. Your boyfriend.

  "How about some tea, love? “ You could never get tired of him calling you pet names, even though it made you blush every single time. Agreeing to tea, he led you to his Kensington flat which was again very breathtaking.

Luxurious interior. Marble. Leather. You always dreamed of such a home. Not saying that your flat was packed with a bunch of old stuff. It‘s just different. Well, maybe because he had so much more money and actually could afford a place like this. Who would‘ve thought that winning a Grammy wouldn’t guarantee you unlimited money and stardom?

 Sitting on the counter, you watched Roger pour the tea from the kettle into 2 cups. “Sugar? Cream? “ “1 cube of sugar and a splash of cream, please“ “Another thing we have in common then“ he smiled at you with shining blue eyes. “And the other things in common would be? “ you asked curiously. “I don‘t know, love“ he answered “being absolutely smashing musicians, amazingly talented and wandering around Hyde Park at 2.30 in the morning, maybe?“ You now both burst into laughter when suddenly everything turned quiet again, sipping on tea. 

  “I rushed off. Didn‘t feel like arguing. Got me into some serious shit in the past“ “Huh?" “You asked me what‘s really going on earlier. Josh and me....had an argument. I had to blow off some steam and didn‘t really want to stay with him tonight" “Is it because of the paparazzi pictures? Everyone seems to freak out about them and I don’t even know why. You have a boyfriend, I have a wife. Nothing happened anyway.” Wife. It stung a little. But he was telling the truth.

“Anyway, what‘d you want to do, love? Stay on the bench in the freezing cold in your little outfit?“ Looking down on yourself you were still dressed in ripped jeans and a white bralette. “Yeah. Partly because of the pictures. No, I could get a hotel room. I should go now actually. Don’t want to bother you more than I already have and I’m also verrrryyy tired. Thanks for the tea and company, Roger. You definitely made my night“

As you made your way back to the front Roger hesitated but was quick to speak up again: “Why don’t you just stay here?”

Everything was quiet again. You didn’t know what to say.

“There’s no way I’m going to let you go out there alone at this time in the freezing cold. You could uhh, sleep in one if the guest rooms if you want? So.. uhh.. you don’t have to look around for a hotel…”

“Roger, I don’t want to bother you-“ “Stay.”

 You agreed to stay in his flat. Before settling into the room, he handed you a shirt of his to sleep in and wished you good night by hugging you and giving you a peck on the cheek. 

His shirt was baggy around you and reached your mid thighs. It smelled like him. Suddenly, inspiration struck you again as you reached for the notebook, that you always kept in your bag.

It was your lyric notebook, as you flipped through the pages, you finally landed on the lyrics you had written down at Roger’s home by the lake in Surrey. -Surrey-

Sitting on the sea Soaking up the sun

 A jaw dropper Looks good when he walks Is the subject of their talk He would be hard to chase But good to catch

 …. was already written on the page…. and you decided to add some more…

  With eyes that make you melt He lends his coat for shelter Plus he's there for you When he shouldn't be

 …. before you fell sleep clutching your notebook in your right hand…

  A loud bang woke you up. 5 am.  “Where is she, where did you keep her? I know she must be here somewhere” A unknown female voice filled the flat, full of anger and betrayal.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sarina.” “Y/N of course! I should’ve known you can’t keep in your pants, Roger. Especially when some young slag opens her legs wide for you to shag. That’s so typical of you.”

You listened closely; tears started to form in your eyes. A slag. That’s what the papers said. But you had changed. Did you change? You tried so hard to be a better person, to improve. To prove them wrong. You didn’t even do anything wrong. Or did you? After quick consideration, you decided to change into your own clothing again, to sneak out of the window. Thank god there was a fire escape.

 The walk home seemed to take ages. It was still early, so no one recognized you walking the streets looking like a mess.

  At the same time, Roger could convince his wife, that no one was in the flat with him, still she decided to spend the rest of the night elsewhere. As Roger wanted to check in with you, the room was empty. He totally understood your actions, it saved him a lot of trouble, but still hoped you would have stayed.

As he was about to leave the room, he spotted something in the middle of the bed. It was a little notebook. Your notebook.

taglist:

[lightsandlostbells]

Druck season 3, episode 1 reaction

WE DID IT, KIDS. When Druck’s first season aired, I knew shortly after Matteo’s introduction that I could not wait for his season. But with that came a lot of apprehension that we would ever get Matteo’s season - Druck S1 got less attention than some of the other remakes, and for a long time, the fandom didn’t know if the show would get a S2, let alone S3. Months went by with no official news of when the show would return. Many people thought the show had been quietly cancelled. 

And then, finally, Mia’s season was announced. Ratings and subscribers grew substantially. Druck trended frequently on YouTube and Tumblr. Then finally, we got confirmation that S3 was in the works. So here we are, and to put it politely, my ass is on fire. 

Episode 1

Clip 1 - Matteo’s miserable night

Party time! This opening is pointedly sexual, with the music (”You’re turning me on”) and the dancing, with the closeups of boobs and butts and writhing bodies. Sara gets freaky with a banana. The presence of sex makes sense to highlight Matteo’s alienation, as we see him sitting on the couch, not participating. He’s disengaged from the flirtation and seduction, this isn’t something he wants to be a part of.

Is the guy dancing with Hans the turtleneck dude, or is that someone else? PLOT TWIST: he was never Matteo’s love interest, despite fan theories. He was Hans’ love interest all along!

Matteo gets up, trying to escape this scene that makes him uncomfortable. But Sara pulls him into a dance (much like she’s going to be playing the role of Emma this season, pulling Matteo back into an attempt at a straight relationship). They kiss, and he’s soooo not into it, hugging her and staring over her shoulder into space like she’s his great-aunt who smells like mothballs and he can’t wait to get the fuck out of this family reunion.

He escapes into the bathroom where the boy squad is smoking weed. Carlos showing the boys a sex position on his phone. I’m sure Matteo loves hearing about that. He’s getting high as the boys debate the mechanics of this man-woman sex position. The proper response, honestly.

Oh my God, Carlos just called Kiki a catheter. He meant cathetus. I don’t think you’re ready to integrate catheters into your sex life, dude. 

Matteo looks dead. I know he’s getting high, but this kid looks fucking deceased. Someone revive him already.

When he realizes he has three calls from Kiki, Carlos pulls up Jonas and Abdi, saying they’re going to go hook up with girls. An activity that I’m sure Matteo wants to participate in. Matteo lingers behind. He just seems so wiped. He looks at himself in the mirror and it’s as if he’s disappointed in what he sees.  (The way it’s shot makes his mirror image divided down the middle, like he’s a fractured person.) I’ve seen some later episodes by this point and Matteo seems like he’s really struggling with anxiety, like he just needs to escape sometimes, it all gets overwhelming.

The girl Jonas is dancing with kinda reminds me of Sonja (similar-ish haircut).

HOLY FUCK DID MATTEO JUST PUT THE WEED IN AMIRA’S BACKPACK???? Matteo, that is TOTALLY the worst an Isak has been about this, planting weed on on a person rather than a vase. I guess he assumes a Muslim girl in hijab seems like an unlikely candidate to have drugs, but ... dude. Asshole move. And I wouldn’t trust the authorities not to search the Muslim girl’s belongings for discriminatory reasons, anyway, which would have made it even worse.

Photoshop Markus is at this party and Matteo tells the cops Markus is the renter, LMAO GOD. Matteo is just snaking all over the place tonight. The cops tell everyone to turn the music down, which is pretty reasonable and not nearly as bad as them telling people to break up the party. Or maybe I’m just old. Carlos salutes as the cops leave, heh.

Amira just walks out with her backpack … and the weed. Lol, she might’ve just left because the cops showed up and she figured better to bail now, not wanting to get in trouble, or because she had a curfew or something, but part of me wants to believe she knew Matteo stuck weed in her backpack and she’s walking out to make him suffer. In that case: he deserves it, make him suffer.

Mia wasn’t at the party. I guess she and Alexander were making their own fun, but her presence is missed.

Clip 2 - Survival camp

Matteo’s new room is already a little messy, with beer bottles and remnants of the party. He wakes up and checks his phone, he’s got a Bible verse from mom. One that sounds normal and non-threatening enough, not like it’s about sin and hellfire, but you know. All religious texts are probably loaded coming from Matteo’s mom.

Matteo rolls over and Jonas is conked out in bed next to him. Oh nooooo, my heart. Matteo watches him and then reaches out and slooooowly lowers his hand to lightly touch Jonas’ curls, closing his eyes a little. GODDAMMIT.

If he doesn’t do this to Gereven at some point, touch his hair without having to be secretive about it, then I’m suing Druck.

You can tell Matteo is indulging in this fantasy that Jonas is his boyfriend and he’s waking up next to him, and the fantasy is broken when he looks down and sees that Jonas has a phone number with a little heart written on his arm. A girl. Jonas will never be his boyfriend.

Although I almost don’t think this is specifically about Matteo pining over Jonas - I think there’s definitely some lingering feelings, enough to be disappointed that Jonas might have a girl, but I also think it’s just the wish that Matteo can have this experience with a guy at all, he can wake up next to a boy who’s not just a friend, who he can touch and show affection to. 

The fantasy is further interrupted when Hans walks in (the dreamy music cuts off) and Matteo rolls on his back like he’s totally not staring wistfully at Jonas. Hans throws himself on the bed between them in a perfect face plant, lmao. 

Hans asks Matteo to buy rolls, saying Mia would’ve done that. Hans, if you are expecting Matteo to be a Mia substitute, you are setting yourself up for disappointment. I don’t think Matteo will lovingly wipe your vomit off the tub. (I mean. Maybe when he falls in love and is in just that good of a mood.)

Jonas asks why Hans is in Matteo’s bed, and Hans says he could ask Jonas the same question (DAMN) but Jonas is like … I’ve waited for you. He and Hans stare into each other’s eyes. Lmao, the way their gaze holds without comment or them breaking it off. I’m sure Matteo just loves seeing them “flirt.” But I don’t think the fantasy of Jonas in his bed involves Hans, sorry Hans. Matteo gets up to buy rolls, just to get away from the JoHans lovefest, I guess.

Linn comes in and says she wants to make pancakes but doesn’t know where the pans are, and she doesn’t know how to make pancakes either. Everyone in this flat is screwed without Mia. But Jonas offers to make pancakes, so all is saved! Matteo grumpily leaves Jonas, Hans, and Linn to take a selfie of their “survival camp” to send to Mia, showing they’re totally making it on their own. They look so perky, heh. They won’t be so perky when Jonas leaves and takes his pancake-making skills with him.

Matteo steps outside and gets a text from Sara about whether he slept well. I feel bad for Sara. She’s not just the Emma equivalent, she’s a character we’ve seen in the past who has been entertaining and likable. I don’t want to see her either make Emma’s mistakes like outing Matteo OR get her heart broken by him.

 Hans throws Matteo’s wallet out of the window, beaning him in the head, which is truly the perfect gif.

Clip 3 - Will you surrender?

Matteo goes into school on a rainy Monday morning. We start with some passionate straight kissing in the foreground, coupled with a pic and text from Sara, just to show the kind of shit Matteo is dealing with. A heterosexual assault from all angles. 

He meets up with the boy squad. Jonas is looking to get with Linn’s friend, who is “Emma Watson but blonde.” Sucks for Matteo to hear yet more girl talk, and girl talk from Jonas specifically. The heterosexuality strikes from another corner.

Adding another unwanted conversation topic, Abdi asks about the weed. Matteo seems like he wants to get the hell out of there, so he bails and goes up to Hanna and Sam, asking where Amira is. She’s out sick, so solving the weed dilemma will have to wait another day.

Hanna glances over at Jonas, who finally seems to have snapped out of his S2 funk as he talks about his new girl … does Hanna know yet Jonas has a new flame? Or is she just suspicious?

Man, I keep saying it, but Matteo seems like he’s sleepwalking through life, like this kid is just. Legit depressed. He has no energy for anything. Not even to fake being OK.

Continuity snarl: Matteo puts up his hood as he rounds the corner after leaving the girls, but it’s down a moment later.

The music is kicking in and there’s still almost a minute of clip left, is Matteo going to like … literally run into Beanie Boy/Gereven?

YEP

Well, they didn’t do a rom-com Meet Cute collide into each other or anything, but they passed each other in the hallway! In slow motion!

The big moment: Matteo and Gereven are coming at each other from different sides (like different ~walks of life? ooooo). They lock eyes and then look back at each other once after they’ve passed.

The scene goes into slow motion as soon as Matteo lifts his head and sees Beanie Boy. Matteo is just ambling his way to class and meandering through life, but when he sees that guy, that’s when he starts to feel present in the world, like it’s not just around him but including him. And then Gereven comes into focus as they pass each other.

I adore the music choice for this moment. It’s beautiful, and the lyrics are so lovely. “Will you surrender?” when we see Gereven and Matteo looking at each other, because Matteo’s seeing the boy who will make him give in and stop hiding who he truly is, who will make him surrender to love. And I suspect the same is true for Gereven, that Matteo will make him surrender as will, let go of his fears. 

So I reaaaaally don’t think Beanie Boy was trying to get Matteo’s attention like Even was. There’s nothing about it that suggests so. My prediction is that Beanie Boy, like Matteo was trying to keep his head down and get through life, and they just happened to walk by each other. I mean, Matteo’s just walking down a school hallway, it’s not like Beanie Boy parked his ass deliberately somewhere so Matteo could see him, he couldn’t predict Matteo was going to walk down that hallway at that particular time. I feel like Beanie Boy is very much like Matteo in that he’s lonely and an outsider. He’s not trying to attract attention, he’s not seen smiling or laughing at someone at the beginning. Our first glance at Even was his brightness. Our first glimpse of Gereven (from Matteo’s POV, not the brief moment of him last season which is more of an Easter egg, really) has him in dark clothes, headphones on. I feel like he and Matteo are just checked out of life. And I think that’ll be an interesting take on Even, not so much that Beanie Boy has Even’s confidence and swagger in drawing Matteo to him, but that Matteo and Gereven are both outsiders and recognize their loneliness in each other.

That’s what really makes me love this scene. It’s just a mundane occurrence. Two boys walking by each other. Something that happens all the time. Something that Matteo no doubt does every day, walk by other boys whose faces don’t register. But this time, there’s ... something. Physical attraction? Sure, that’s part of it. But even more I think it’s a sense of connection, something inexplicable that draws them to look back at each other even when the moment should have ended. A gut feeling that this person is also lost, that he would understand. 

Clip 4 - Everyone’s favorite reluctant friendship begins

It’s the first remake to focus on the teacher’s nipples! Matteo is staring at them instead of listening to her talk about their exams. 

Amira comes in and Matteo just gets up from where he was sitting and sits next to her while the teacher is talking. Lol, is that allowed? Is this a study session or something?

Amira coolly ignores Matteo even when he tries to get her attention. Eventually she says she found his weed and how fucked up it was for him to do that, she could have gotten in trouble. A bit of a change because Sana was upset that Isak almost fucked over Eva, causing a demonstration of Sana’s loyalty to her friends. With Amira, it was personal, a risk to herself. Matteo acts shitty too, he’s just like come on, it wasn’t personal, it wasn’t a big deal. Dude! If you want your weed back, that’s not the best course of action. You need to grovel.

The teacher calls on Matteo and Jonas shoots him an entertained look, like ha ha, you got in trouble. Or probably, more ha ha, check out our teacher’s nips. Nice display of Jonas going for that hetero bro bonding that Matteo would love to avoid.

LMAO, when Matteo asks for the week back and Amira says, “What will I get for it?” Matteo is like “IDK, blowjob?” THIS KID. His mind went to that, huh. Remember Even was all “yeah, we had to suck dicks” without two minutes of meeting Isak? And then later Eskild told Isak that talking about sucking dick when you meet someone is a sign someone’s gay? Yeah. 

Amira says she’ll give the weed back if Matteo and his boys join the abi-prank committee. Didn’t they do that last season? The copies of the boobs and butts and Jonas’ dick, didn’t that count as the prank?

The teacher makes them study partners. So far, she’s not a racist, at least? Anyway, Amira and Matteo look positively thrilled to be paired together; meanwhile Jonas is flirting with his seat partner. Oh, maybe that’s what the Look was about. Matteo continues to be pelted with heterosexuality like rotten fruits and vegetables.

Clip 5 - Matteo gets a prom date

Matteo and Sara sit on opposite sides of the bed, texting their friends, on their phones. LMAO, sounds about right, tbh. Truly scorching chemistry. Nah, it’s very Isak and Eskild.

The boys’ group chat has Jonas saying he’s getting laid on Friday. That rotten hetero produce comes in the form of eggplant emojis. Matteo sure loves hearing about Jonas banging chicks!  He’s like, yeah, I’m totally having sex with a girl as well.

Sara asks his opinion about a dress. Subtle (“subtle”) hint about the prom? Yes, as it turns out. But she suddenly leans over and kisses him after he’s like yeah, that looks nice. He looks as excited as you’d expect. He was actually staring into space before she did that.

Sara gets a text, Matteo wants to know what they’re talking about, and there’s some “flirting” until Sara caves and tells him that Leonie likes the new guy from their PE class. GEE I WONDER WHO THAT COULD BE. Matteo offers to investigate for her. Yeah, I’ll bet he’s gonna enjoy that more than he knows. He’s going to become one of the Hardy Boys.

Sara somewhat nervously asks if they should go to prom together, and when Matteo is agrees, she asks whether they’re a thing. It makes me sad how clearly vulnerable she is right now, like she really likes him and is hoping to say yes, but she isn’t sure. Matteo says they’re a thing. Not conveying how utterly miserable this must make him, but not exactly jumping for joy, either. Like Isak tried hard to impress Emma, he could turn on the charm, but Matteo is just sleepy about it.

Sara kisses Matteo again, but before they go further, he asks if she wants to watch a movie with him. Smart move.

I’m sure Matteo will end up going to prom with Gereven. Sara and Leonie can go together? Realizing their love for each other at last. Or just as friends. (But preferably girlfriends.)

Clip 6 - Make a wish

Matteo goes to the abi-prank meeting, looking like he gives nary a fuck. Amira shoots him a nod and he gives her a “what more do you want from me” look. The girls are at the meeting, the rest of the boy squad is not, obviously. I see Photoshop Markus but not Beanie Boy.

All the girls are looking beautiful by the way. Look at Amira, she’s radiant!

Kiki literally goes Fight Club on this meeting. I have to say, if you asked me which Druck character would be a member of Fight Club, it would be Kiki. Her clumsy nervousness is a total front for bloodlust.

Matteo is being rude as hell just taking out his phone while Kiki is talking. The boys text why they aren’t there: Jonas has a date, Kiki is still mad at Carlos (dude, that’s why you need to come, it’s a way to get back on her good side) and Abdi just forgot.

They suggest a flash mob. Lmao, good luck getting Matteo to dance. Or they suggest just randomly hugging teachers. That could get all kinds of awkward, judging by the last teacher we saw with the power nipples. I’m just imagining some short kid going for a hug and getting their face mashed into the teacher’s areola.

Photosohp Markus has a suggestion. I love this dude, sorry. He loves hugging! He wants to practice with Kiki. Kiki realizes in an instant why the hugging prank might not be the best idea. But she’s like, we can group bond instead. Kiki wants everyone to hold hands and Matteo just peaces the fuck out. This prank meeting is pretty depressing, honestly. Way more so than kosegruppa. Kosegruppa might have been uncool or whatever but I got the sense the people involved enjoyed it. This meeting was just excruciating, and barely anyone is there. Look at that tiny circle.

Oh shit! As Matteo exits the room, Beanie Boy is going into it, and Matteo stops him. No, don’t go in there, it’s dangerous! Or actually it just sucks and they’re doing a trust circle where they hold hands. Beanie Boy obviously does not want to hold hands in that room, since Matteo is out here and not in there.

Aww, I love that Matteo has a slight smile? Just the tiniest when he talks to Beanie. Beanie is kinda doing the talking with his eyes, he’s definitely considering Matteo.

Shit, it’s Matteo who offers weed! Matteo is the one being the initiator! The bolder one. I love the idea of maybe having a shyer Even, like it does drastically change their dynamic, but I’m fine with that as long as the show does a thorough job of adapting their interactions, not just a cut and paste. Beanie Boy is the new kid and probably didn’t expect someone to make overtures of friendship (or more…).

And I love Matteo doing this when we’ve seen him sleepwalking through his interactions with Sara and … everyone else, kinda. He’s actually found some courage. Like he could have just let Beanie Boy go off and do his own thing, there was no real reason to offer a joint once he’d warned him off the meeting. But he somehow just felt the need to keep talking to this dude.

Holy fuck, MATTEO putting the joint behind his ear. This role reversal is so much fun already. And it’s even more amusing if you think that this is how some of Evak played out from Even’s POV? We thought Even was this charming, suave, mysterious dude when he stuck that joint behind his ear, because we were in Isak’s POV and Even was some handsome stranger. Later we realize what a huge dork Even is and that he was super desperate to get Isak’s attention and had been pining since the first day of school. So this is like how Even actually was - we know Matteo is a big dork and not a suave dude, but maybe that’s how he comes across in Beanie Boy’s eyes. 

HIS NAME IS DAVID. A perfectly excellent name, tbh. I was worried they were going to call him something like Daniel or Noah, names that already exist in the Skam universe, which would be confusing as hell when those Noorhelm seasons are concurrently airing. “I can’t believe that thing Noah just did in this clip.” Uhhhh which Noah are you talking about, untagged post? Or God forbid, another Lucas, although David’s actor is named Lukas so I figured we would dodge that bullet.

Although it does occur to me that we have do have a David, the Skam France director, soooo … fuck.

I want to make a disclaimer: as fandom knows, David is played by a trans actor. There’s no guarantee that this character will be trans yet, but I think it’s unlikely that they won’t bring it up. The nature of this show seems like they’ll incorporate it into the story rather than let the opportunity pass to talk about trans issues, and I know that trans Druck fans campaigning for a trans Even had a ton to do with this decision, so I believe their input would weigh on the story itself beyond the casting. So I’m going to make speculation and comments with the assumption that David is trans and how that will affect the plot. There are things in this conversation that are potentially relevant to that, for instance. I don’t want to overstep, but I also don’t want to ignore moments of possible foreshadowing or pieces that might be relevant to his characterization.

So for instance, I don’t know if they have replaced Even being bipolar with David being trans. To be clear, NOT because being trans is a mental illness but more as an area of societal marginalization that the character has to deal with, that might be hidden from the other characters and the audience. We don’t know when we will learn that David is trans; while I write this we’re several episodes in, but I don’t know if we’ll learn three clips from now or three episodes from now. I don’t know if David will be trans and bipolar, or just one of the two. I don’t know if the reveal will end up being casual and non-dramatic, or if it will be a big thing like the end of episode 8. I have some guesses about where the story might go, but I’m keeping in mind that there’s a new element that none of the Evak seasons have tackled before, and that may cause big changes to the story. 

Matteo asks David about being new so close to Abi, and David says he killed someone and had to go into hiding. That could be a reference to his dead name. I don’t know if that term is the same in German, but seems like a possible hint. He does say he killed his parents, but that’s after Matteo asks if he had stress with them, so he’s just riffing off what Matteo said. Or just the fact that when Matteo asks about him being new, David wants to know why - maybe he’s wondering if Matteo knows something or heard a rumor. 

Isak asking about Even transferring in his final year got cut off because Emma showed up. Here Matteo just kinda accepts David’s joke and doesn’t question him further.

Matteo is super into him, of course. Look at that body language, he’s all angled toward David. David, too. Tarjei and Henrik had masterful body language so this is very promising.

David points out an eyelash on Matteo’s face and you fucking KNOW later in the season he probably won’t ask, he’ll just brush it off himself. Matteo is like, can I make a wish now? JFC, Matteo is flirting so much, he is intensely looking at David when he says that. Honestly, it’s really exciting to see this dynamic kinda flipped, mixing and matching Isak and Even elements between Matteo and David. David says it was just an eyelash. Maybe he’ll be more of the realist rather than the romantic? God, if Matteo is the more romantic one, I will lose my mind (in a good way).

David does ask what Matteo’s wish would have been, and Matteo is like, IDK, go on holiday or something. David says he knows the feeling and Matteo asks where he would go. Matteo would get in a car and just drive away. David says to go directly to Detroit. David, I’m fond of you already but unless your car turns into a submarine that is not gonna work.

David has been pretty chill so far, but he perks up and smiles when mentioning Detroit at the very end, so Matteo gets hit with the ray of charm. That’s when the music kicks in, too, because Matteo has seen David smile. No turning back now. I presume we are going to be hearing music from Detroit artists this season?

LMAO, I was like oh, Sara’s not there at the meeting so she can’t interrupt their moment, and yet SOMEHOW she managed to anyway. And she kisses Matteo so David knows Matteo has a girlfriend right off the bat. David takes this as his cue to exit.

Why was Sara there, anyway? Did she show up late for the Abi prank meeting? Didn’t she just do a big prank where she photocopied her boobs for the school to see? Or did she just know that’s where Matteo was headed tonight and she waited around for him?

For Matteo, Sara’s arrival cuts into this charged moment with David. With David, it’s a little less intense than Isak finding out about Sonja? Because he’s only shared a few minutes now with Matteo instead of stalking him for a week and then spending hours at his house, although obviously he could be crushing on him for a while already. Though personally I think they might eliminate that part of the story. Anyway, this is like … a spark of hope getting extinguished REALLY early and it makes me wonder how the rest of this story is gonna go. Matteo is the one with the girlfriend, the “obstacle.” Is he going to run hot and cold, go back to Sara after getting with David? 

Matteo looks sad as David goes, obviously. Making it worse is that of course that’s the dude Leonie likes. Matteo takes a drag of the joint before replying that he thinks it’s somebody else. Well, David was someone somebody else liked (ahem), so I guess that does make him somebody else. But clearly David is going to be so much more to Matteo than just “dude Leonie likes.”

Anyway, I love how quiet and down to earth that scene was, how it wasn’t instant smiles and conversational bliss but a little rough, testing each other out. And I think it’s good that Matteo seems to be more proactive around David, because they both seem kinda like chill stoner/emo kids, and two sleepy guys is not going to be that exciting of a dynamic, honestly. Matteo being the instigator gives the story a fresh take, and the contrast between Matteo with David and Matteo with everyone else is really, really important. We can already see that David is the person, the one who makes Matteo slip into a different mode of his being, one that’s happier and more comfortable. The one who makes him wake up.

Social Media/General Comments:

Jonas says he’s better about the Hanna situation than he was before. We’ll see how long that lasts. I hope his S2 attitude leaves a trace this season, like it was such a big deal and had an affect on Matteo feeling adrift from his best friend, so it should play a role in their relationship.

Abdi refuses to get on Instagram, which is convenient for the show’s social media content creators, lol.

As explained in the texts, a pipe broke in the apartment, so Mia, Hans, and Linn had to move out, and Linn found them a new apartment but one with an extra room, so they needed another roommate fast. Mia suggested Matteo as she heard through the grapevine that he wanted to move out. It’s pretty sad because he was looking to leave, so we can assume things are very bad at home. At least it didn’t escalate to him sleeping in a basement.

I’m glad they found a way to move Matteo into the apartment neatly and quickly with the small gap between S2 and S3. I think Matteo living on his own is a pretty big contributor to his feelings of isolation and instability, and assuming Hans plays a similar role as Eskild with his “guru” advice, it helps a lot if they’re living under the same roof. However, it does create a different setup for the two, though, because Hans didn’t “rescue” Matteo like Eskild did with Isak. Living with Hans will give them more opportunities to bond than living apart would, but Hans didn’t nurture and shelter Matteo to the degree that Eskild did for Isak. Hans is like a new acquaintance, and it will take more effort to build them to a point where Matteo feels like he can trust Hans and go to him for advice. Unless it’s solely like “well, he’s the only other gay guy I know” which would be understandable but a bit underwhelming. Hans has a depressing family life, as shown in S2, with relatives who don’t accept his personality, to the point where he adopts a “straighter” persona to interact with them, and it would be amazing to bring in his background to the Pride clip.

LET’S GET SOME MIA/MATTEO CONVERSATIONS ABOUT SEXUALITY GOING, TOO. They made Mia bi but many people think they could’ve done a better job of addressing it, so this is their chance! Don’t just sleep on it by following the OG story structure - make use of those changes.

The only non-confirmed LGBT person in the flat is Linn and you know, they could remedy that this season.

Linn apparently took care of a lot of the move, so that’s progress for her, she got something done for once, lol. 

With the other girls, Hanna and Mia are furtive about why they don’t think it’s serious between Matteo and Sara. I love them for keep their mouths shut about his sexuality.

Seeing Matteo flirt with Sara and make plans to go to the movies with her has me yelling like I’m in the movie theater for a horror film. DON’T GO UPSTAIRS! GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!

There are pictures of Matteo and Amira looking smiley and happy because The Incident happens, heh. Matteo looks like he was having a decent time earlier in the evening and then descended into sadness and fatigue. And, you know, getting drunk and high.

Sara posts a pic with Leonie being like #theonewhounderstandsme and if that isn’t screaming for a Sara/Leonie endgame...

Linn super loves flamingos. 

Kiki and Carlos fight because he was in the bathtub getting high and ignoring her texts.

Mia is absent a lot because she’s hanging with Alex, that’s why she missed the housewarming party. The girls miss her. Come back soon, Mia! Don’t just disappear because Noora went to London!

We got a sappy chat between Mia and Alex to remind us that they’re around, at least. Alex misses Mia even though she’s sitting across from him. I guess they’re in their little couple bubble now.

Matteo checks in with Amira and asks if she’s feeling better or still sick, and Amira’s answers make me suspect she knows exactly what bullshit Matteo pulled on Saturday.

When Matteo invited Sara to study at his place on Thursday, I found myself wishing that maybe Hans could save the day and just be so intrusive and annoying that he drove Sara away without Matteo having to make out with Sara or blow her off rudely or whatever. Alas.

I’m laughing how Markus is “Photoshop Markus” even in the group chat. No one else appears to have a nickname, just him.

Leonie and Sara chat; Leonie has her eye on Gereven and Sara is trying to figure out where she and Matteo stand as a couple. I’m really fond of them and I hope they don’t become Emma and Sonja, honestly. Again, just ... nip those relationships in the bud. Let them go to prom with each other, not the boys. Even if they aren’t together romantically, they seem to be the most important people in each other’s lives.

Matteo zips his lips when Jonas asks if he banged Sara, which conveniently doesn’t mean he has to say no. A very Isak technique.

Mia wasn’t in this episode at all, which is strange when she, you know, lives with Matteo and goes to school with him and we saw all the other girls. In-universe the explanation is that she’s with Alexander, but I wonder if they were filming parts of S2 at the same time, maybe? Reshoots? And that’s why we haven’t seen either Mia or Alexander, because the actors were busy. The other explanation is just that Mia is not here because Noora was not there, and Druck felt the need to follow that story. I’d find that really disappointing. 

This is a really promising start to the season, and I already love the tone. It has a very down-to-earth, painfully vulnerable feel. Matteo’s misery is palpable in basically every scene, except the ones with David, where we get glimpses of his better self. I can sense this kid’s internal struggle all the time. There’s also pining and longing in the simplest moments, from Matteo brushing Jonas’ hair while he’s sleeping, to that one look in the hallway with David causing a spark, to the way they look at each other while smoking, David pointing out the eyelash on Matteo’s cheek. It’s quiet, raw, and real. And that is exactly the atmosphere I want from a S3 remake.

I’m not German so feel free to correct me on translations or cultural notes.

If you got this far, thank you for reading!

[sapphicscholar]

Pride Month Prompts Day 7: Underground (SuperLane)

From this Pride Month Prompts post! I’m taking the opportunity to write some short fics for a variety of pairings that I haven’t written for as much, maybe at all. They won’t be going on AO3, so I’ll be sure to tag them all with #pride month prompts so you can find them later if you want. 

Day 7: Underground

Pairing: SuperLane (Kara/Lucy) - another new one! (Set after Manhunter)

Perhaps taking off the helmets had been a bad idea. Scratch that: it was definitely a bad idea. But Kara had wanted to see Alex, had wanted Alex to know that she would always come for her, even if it meant stealing DEO property, shooting down a truck owned by the U.S. government, and freeing two supposed criminals being hauled away for treason. And seeing Alex’s reaction when she realized that Lucy had switched sides for them was pretty great too.

For a while, it seemed as if everything had gone fine. J’onn and Alex took off on the bikes, Kara flew Lucy back to the base, and they both acted surprised by the news of the escape (and were genuinely surprised by the news of Lucy’s promotion).

Neither of them took into account the fact that a vehicle headed for Cadmus would likely be equipped with multiple cameras sending live feed footage back to the military.

The following morning, a heavily armed squad showed up to arrest them both, and it was only Kara’s super hearing that gave her the extra few seconds she needed to swoop Lucy up in her arms and fly them both far away from the DEO and the military officials toting guns loaded with kryptonite-laced bullets.

Within a day, they’d gone completely underground. Kara was opposed to stealing, but she’d swept through stores faster than anyone could see, throwing money onto the counter in her wake. That was how they’d acquired a stockpile of food, new clothing, wigs for going out, and two burner phones that were being saved for an emergency. She’d also grabbed a few bottles of wine for Lucy, who had only recently reconciled herself to the idea of breaking the law and was looking a bit pale as the realization that she was a now a wanted fugitive with her own father hot on her heels sunk in.

On day 5, Kara finally got up the courage to apologize. “If I hadn’t...I should’ve made sure that we stayed covered, checked for any cameras.”

“It’s Cadmus, Kara. I’m sure they were livestreaming the footage.”

“Still. I could have kept them from knowing you were the person under the other helmet.”

But Lucy shook her head, rubbing at her temples before draining the rest of her plastic cup of wine. “Long term, this is the decision I’m proud of. I’ve pushed down a lot over the years, but I don’t think even a lifetime of practice at repressing shit would have been enough to keep away the guilt if I’d sent your sister and J’onn off to be tortured at Cadmus.”  She refilled her cup, frowning when the rest of the bottle only brought it up to two-thirds full. “So really, I’m the one that should be apologizing. You just pulled my head out of my ass long enough to see that I wasn’t living the kind of life I could be proud of.”

“Hey, no, I’m sure you’ve done some amazing things.”

Lucy snorted, something dark flashing across her features as her face twisted in disgust. “Like what? Break my ex’s heart because I’d rather hurt her...hurt us both, than risk a dishonorable discharge? Side with my father even as he got more and more bigoted just because every so often he’d pat me on the shoulder and tell me I made him proud? Come flying across the country to restart things with a guy only to break up with him all over again?”

“We’ve all done things we regretted. I’m pretty sure the whole world saw some of my worst choices splashed across newspapers and broadcast internationally just a few weeks ago.” She really wished wine did anything for her; it’d be nice to have something to dull the pain of the too fresh memories. “I also know a little bit about not wanting to believe that a parent could be so wrong about something, about waiting too late to realize there are two sides to every story.” She swallowed the tears that threatened to fall. “But Lucy? You’ve done a lot of things to be proud of.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s hard to believe it these days.”

In a split second, Kara decided to start listing things, as many as she could think of, anything to make that look of sadness, of self-loathing disappear. “You’re a freakin’ major in the Army, which means, like, a lot of people have recognized what a badass you are. And you have grad degrees from Harvard. And you’re super great at Taboo and Charades and Pictionary. And you were willing to put everything on the line once you’d realized you’d made a mistake, which is almost better than just never making mistakes. Because you care, you cared enough to fix it.” She took a deep breath in. “Also you offer great legal advice. And those cookies you made for game night were so good; I ate half of them when you weren’t looking. And you won over Cat Grant in, like, two seconds flat, which, let me tell you, isn’t easy! And you always smell really nice, even at the end of the day, and you’ve got such great hair, like seriously great hair.”

Lucy looked over at her, some emotion swirling in her eyes that Kara didn’t recognize. “You know that the things you did while drugged don’t magically undo all the good you’ve done for the world, right?”

“Oh please, weren’t you the one saying Supergirl didn’t exactly measure up to expectations?”

Lucy ducked her head. “Might have had a bit more to do with jealousy than anything else.”

Kara’s eyebrows shot up at that. “Jealousy?” Lucy had the guy and the job and Cat’s attention. What could she have been jealous of?

“Seriously? You have superpowers, Kara. And a sister who would do anything for you, and this whole group of friends who adore you. Even when James was talking about finding apartments with me to really make things work, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. And, to make it all worse, I couldn’t even blame him because you’re fucking gorgeous!” With a huff of bitter laughter, Lucy pulled herself to her feet, swaying slightly—the first sign that the bottle of wine might have affected her. “I should… Night, Kara.”

---

After that night, things seemed easier between them. The guilt and apologies and bad memories had been excised, leaving room for something new to grow between them. Slowly but surely, they began opening up, sharing stories of growing up and years in school and awkward dates. Kara talked about the things she’d had the hardest time getting used to on Earth, and Lucy admitted that she hadn’t thought about how difficult it must be for aliens. She’d moved a lot as an Army brat, having to switch schools constantly, but even during the awkwardness of middle school, at least she’d always known how to speak the language, had a vague sense of what social life would be like, knew what would be taught in her classes and the kinds of clubs that would be offered.

One night, after a glass or two of wine, Lucy opened up to Kara about coming out, not that she’d had too many people in her life she’d been able to tell. Kara admitted that she hadn’t realized it was such a big deal on Earth until she’d asked Alex if she was courting her best friend Vicki and been swiftly and promptly kicked out of their shared bedroom for hours, not let back in until Eliza had demanded that Alex unlock the door for bedtime.

---

On day 18, they woke up to news that all of National City’s residents had been turned into automatons with the exception of Max Lord, who’d published statements about alien threats and how proud he was to be a human who had prepared for this, who had known from the beginning not to trust them, and Cat Grant, who’d posted a very public call for Supergirl to return from hiding and a plea that the government grant her amnesty.

“You’re going, aren’t you?” Lucy asked.

“I have to. National City...no matter what happened or how many people have decided I belong in prison, it’s still my city. They’re still the people I’ve sworn to protect.”

“Be safe.”

“I will.”

“I mean it. I”—Lucy swallowed heavily as she reached out a hand, grabbing one of Kara’s and holding it tight enough for her to feel it—“I want you to come back to me alive.”

And there it was again, that frisson of something that had been crackling between them for so many days now. Only this time Kara didn’t mumble a quick “goodnight” and speed off to her corner of the decrepit old cabin they’d moved into after the first week. Instead, she held Lucy’s gaze and raised a hand to Lucy’s face, sweeping her thumb across Lucy’s cheekbone. “I promise.”

Lucy was the one to lean forward, but Kara wasn’t sure who it was that actually started the kiss. All she knew was that there were soft, warm lips pressed against her own, and if she’d thought she wanted to date Lucy before because she smelled amazing, well, now she knew she wanted to date Lucy and for so many more reasons. But eventually, the reality of everything happening in National City, the hurried phone calls to J’onn and Alex, the continued broadcasts being sent out by Cat, all caught up to them.

“If you can find a way for me to come back within city limits, you’ll call?” Lucy gestured at their one safe burner phone left, and Kara nodded.

A few moments later, they heard the soft thud outside the door that signalled J’onn and Alex’s arrival.

“I should be fighting by your side,” Alex was already arguing as she and J’onn made their way inside.

“I won’t be able to stay focused if I’m shielding your mind.”

“I swear, if we can get into the DEO and get our hands on your prototypes, we’ll be back in an instant, okay?” Kara promised.

“Fine. In the meantime, I’m trying to see if I can’t bypass some DEO security protocols while everyone there is out of commission. I can only imagine that Non is going to want some of our prisoners back, so I’ll try to secure the system from external interference.”

While J’onn was busy talking to Alex, Lucy squeezed Kara’s hand again. “Come back, alright? We’ve got a kiss to finish.”

Kara grinned. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

[frickfrackjimin]

The One With The Prom Video

⇻ For twenty years, you had always viewed Jung Hoseok as your best friend’s cousin, who you could also probably call a close friend considering all he had done for you. It takes you one night and a home video to realize just how much he has done, and just how much you truly feel for each other. 

Pairing: Hoseok x reader  Genre: Fluff, mild angst (if you squint really hard?)  Words: 5k  Inspired by: Friends Season 2 episode 14, “The One With The Prom Video”  Warnings: Mild language, mentioning of alcohol, mentioning of drugs 

You were ten years old when you first met Jung Hoseok.

You don’t remember anything special about the details of the day. What you were wearing, what he was wearing, what you said to each other. You assumed you were wearing something along the lines of Bermuda shorts with a camisole over t-shirt combo from the department store you always shopped in with some obnoxious neon jewelry that you seemed to always wear in the fourth grade. He was probably in something like basketball shorts and a t-shirt, like most other boys his age wore. None of it really seemed to be that important at the time.

Jung Hoseok was always just your best friend, Hana’s, older cousin. He was constantly hanging around at her house since the two of them were stuck together more than glue itself. His family lived right next door so it was uncommon to find the two of them separate. This, unsurprisingly, meant that you saw quite a bit of him as well.

You never attended school with him. Aside from him being two years older than you and Hana, you also both attended an all-girls private school until high school, while he attended a co-ed public one. Once you hit high school, you both finally convinced your parents to let you attend a co-ed private school instead.

In your elementary and even middle school years, you loved being able to have Hana all to yourself at school, since you knew once she went home, she would practically be at Hoseok’s beck and call.

Even though Hana and Hoseok were close, when they were younger it was less of a friendship/close family relationship. More like Hana following Hoseok around trying to do everything he did, since he was older and in association, cooler. It took until she finally hit her moody teenage years to grow a backbone and stop doing everything Hoseok asked her to.

For a while, you didn’t see much of Hoseok. He was around age sixteen, and you and Hana were fourteen. Hana had said that his parents had shipped him away to some dance camp for the summer. It was in hopes that his semi-“rebellious” phase – that honestly was the worst way to define Hoseok getting detention twice for being late to school – would dwindle down.

When he had returned at the beginning of the school year and you saw him again, he had changed. He was a lot friendlier towards both you and Hana, and had grown about three inches. His jawline had slimmed down and he looked a lot older than he had in June when you last saw him. Even though he looked different and was a bit kinder, he was still the same Hoseok you knew before the summer had started. This was proven when you went to pour sugar in your cereal one morning after sleeping over and the top fell off, making all of the sugar in the container dump into your Rice Krispies.

Yep, the same, annoying Hoseok.

To be fair though, you had changed as well. You turned fifteen over the summer and one of your birthday presents from Mother Nature was boobs! Yep, that’s right. Boobs. You had gone up two whole cup sizes and had grown an inch as well. You and Hana had also spent the summer learning how to properly do makeup – no more of that too dark foundation and blue eye shadow from the local drug store. You spent almost all of your birthday money at Sephora and stayed up all night watching tutorials on YouTube in preparation for the start of high school in September.

Looking back on that summer now, fifteen years later, you find yourself laughing. You cared so much about how others would perceive you as you entered what you thought would be the most important years of your life. It’s comical now, at age thirty, that you really thought high school would be the prime of your life.

Now, at age thirty, you had already been engaged once. That lasted for a hot second before you realized you had more attraction to a closet door than you did to the guy and broke it off after a month. You had also gone to college and gotten your degree in secondary mathematics education and had a full-time, paying job as a geometry teacher at the local high school. You were still wallowing in student loans, especially since a teacher’s pay is pretty much shit. The kids could be assholes sometimes too, but when you’ve had a rough day, you still had Hoseok and Hana to cheer you up after all these years. Except now the cheering up included a bottle or two of wine.

That’s how you ended up here, sitting on the couch in Hana’s living room on a Friday night. Your group had expanded over the years, now including a girl named Yeona that Hana met in her first college class, and two boys named Namjoon and Jimin. Hoseok and Namjoon were roommates all throughout college and stayed in touch even when Namjoon moved in with Jimin, who had posted an ad online about needing a roommate. The six of you had been there for each other throughout the good, the bad, and the ugly over the course of the past decade.

It was finally time for Hana to join the club: the “I’m in my 30’s and still don’t know what the fuck I’m doing” club. Her birthday was on Sunday and in preparation for the huge party you would all have to tolerate tomorrow, you decided to pre-game with some alcohol and old home videos from the comfort of Hana’s living room. She had found a huge box of unlabeled DVDs at her parents house the previous week and decided that in celebration of her thirtieth time around the sun, she wanted to spend her Friday night watching the lot of them. The sixth movie of the night was playing on her flat screen, where a video of Hoseok and Hana playing his dad’s drum set at ages three and five could be seen by the six pairs of eyes glued to it.

“Hoseok, why the hell are you holding the sticks like that?” Yeona choked out through her laughs.

“I could barely hold a pencil at age five, how the hell was I supposed to know how to properly hold drum sticks back then?” he retorted back, taking a swig of his IPA.

“I bet you still wouldn’t be able to hold them correctly now,” you giggle in response from your seat on the floor.

“Hey! I’m very musically inclined!”

“With your voice and your dance steps you might have called yourself as J-Hope, but when it comes to instruments you’re J-Hopeless,” Hana retorts.

“Wow, very original, never heard that one before,” Hoseok mutters, lips touching the beer bottle but not taking another sip. “I thought we agreed to not bring up that nickname ever again?”

“Oh come on Hoseok, this is a night of reminiscing. I for one, would love to reminisce on how you insisted we call you J-Hope the first summer after you went to dance camp because you thought you were some hot shot with every ounce of swag you could have,” you say, trying desperately to hold back a string of laughs.

The rest of the group let out laughs of disbelief at the mention of Hoseok’s short-lived teenage nickname.

“Okay that’s enough, onto the next one,” Hoseok announced, trying to ignore the comments Hana was making about no doubt more embarrassing things from his adolescence. He stood up from his spot on the armchair and placed his beer on the side table before walking over to the DVD player. He ejected the disc and without looking placed another one in the slot and pressed play.

The laughter had finally died down by the time Hoseok had sat back down on the blue armchair placed next to the couch.

Everyone focused on the TV, waiting to see what memories would appear next.

When the screen finally loaded, you were met with the image of your parents standing with Hana’s mom in her kitchen. Hana’s dad’s voice could be heard from behind the video camera. Your dad had a regular camera in his hands, and they all seemed to be excited about something.

“Are they coming downstairs soon?” your mom asked Hana’s, looking excited.

“Yes, mom, we are,” you heard your own voice from behind the camera. It panned around and you’re all met with the image of you and Hana, dressed in gowns with hair and makeup done, ready for your senior prom.

You smile faintly, remembering how much effort you had put into looking nice that night.

You shopped for months for the perfect dress before deciding on a champagne colored mermaid dress with beading up the bodice. Hana had done your hair in a half-up, half-down look and you had done a dramatic smokey eye to compliment your bronzed skin. You remember tanning outside with Hana for two weeks straight trying to get enough color to look good in the dress.

Hana had spent just as much time on her appearance, wearing a silver dress that was also beaded from head to toe. Her hair was completely up with loose curls framing her face and even though she had done formal makeup, it looked minimal on her but it worked. She never needed to wear much anyways.

You heard saw Hoseok shuffling in his chair from the corner of your eye. Turning to look at him, he stutters out, “Oh, we don’t have to watch this.”

Complaints came from the others, insisting that they all wanted to continue watching. Hoseok continued to shift uncomfortably in his seat as his attention shifted across numerous objects in the room. You stared at him confused, but returned your attention to the screen again.

“Oh you look so great! So beautiful!” you hear from your parents behind the camera.

“Dad! Turn the camera off!” Hana whines, attempting to push the camera away from her face.

“This is a momentous occasion sweetheart! You only go to senior prom once!” he chuckles.

“Unless you’re Hoseok, then you don’t go at all,” she snickers.

“Oh you hush,” Hana’s mom scolds.

“Damn, you guys got THAT dressed up for prom? I went in a dress I found at JCPenney for $50, straightened my hair and called it a day,” Yeona states, shoveling a handful of popcorn in her mouth.

“I didn’t even go to my prom. My friends and I skipped and went to the beach that weekend instead. Smoked a fuck ton of weed,” Namjoon laughed.

“It was important to us!” you exclaim. “We happened to have been asked by some of the cutest guys in our school!”

“Guys from a private school? I don’t trust it, those guys are always dickbags,” Jimin replies.

“Shush, you’ll see! When we were eighteen they were peak cute.”

“How about now? Still peaking?” Jimin chuckles.

“Shut up, Jimin.”

Chuckles emit from the group as you all turn back to the TV.

“Now that you mention him, where is Hoseok?” you hear Hana’s dad ask, turning the camera around to inspect the room. Hoseok is now visible, leaning against the kitchen counter, staring at the two girls as they walk towards him.

“Oh, there you are,” he says, moving the camera to be more in Hoseok’s face.

“Seriously Uncle Jihun?” Hoseok mutters before pushing the camera out of his face.

“Alright, alright, I’ll turn it off.”

The screen turns black for a few seconds before transitioning into the next clip. The screen is mostly black, like the clip was filmed secretly. The top halves of both Hoseok and you are visible to the screen. You’re pulling up the top of your dress.

“You uh, look really pretty tonight,” Hoseok murmurs, his arms crossed over his chest as he looks at the ground.

“Oh, thanks,” you reply back, awkwardly playing with your earring. “So, any plans this summer?”

“Not really, probably just going to the studio with Jungkook to create choreography for next year’s fall showcase. Kid practically idolizes me,” he shrugged.

You, Hana and Namjoon all laugh at that.

During his sophomore year of college Hoseok met this kid named Jungkook after he joined the same dance troop as Hoseok. Hoseok treated Jungkook like a little brother and mentored him, always allowing him to stay with him later to practice the choreography for their showcases. He would find out the next year that Jungkook had a crush on him and that was why he followed him around all the time. Hoseok was shocked to say the least and had a hard time believing that 1: Jungkook was gay and 2: that Jungkook had a crush on him. He had to let him down as easy as he could and Jungkook was so embarrassed that he stopped talking to Hoseok for a few months. They finally reconciled after Jungkook met a boy named Taehyung, who became his boyfriend and later fiancé.

“Was this pre or post confession, Hobi?” Yeona chuckled.

Hoseok shrunk even further into the chair.

“Oh, that’s cool,” you reply back, still awkwardly lifting up the top of your dress. “Hey, is this thing hooked all the way? It keeps falling down.”

You turned around to have Hoseok take a look and attempt to aid you if necessary. What the camera captures that you didn’t see is Hoseok looking startled as your back practically meets his front. He stutters out a “let me check” before his fingers stumble over the clasp on the back of your dress.

“L-looks good to me, you look go-“ The doorbell interrupts him.

“Oh my God, they’re here!” you squeal in excitement with Hana, running away from Hoseok before he can finish his sentence. His hands fall to his sides and his gaze continues to follow yours as you run out of the camera’s range.

The next clip cuts to you standing in the hallway while Hana’s date, a boy with dyed blonde hair named Min Yoongi, gets his red rose boutonniere pinned to his tuxedo lapel. Flashes from your dad’s camera are seen against the two of them.

You lean over from your spot hidden from the camera’s flashes to ask him, “Where’s Seokjin? I thought you guys were coming together?”

“He’s on his way, relax,” Yoongi smoothly replies. “Had to pick up the bouquet or something, I don’t remember what exactly.”

You sigh, starting to wring your hands together in anxiety. Yoongi had arrived nearly ten minutes ago and your date, Kim Seokjin, still had yet to show.

“Damn, did you get stood up to your own prom?” Jimin asks from behind you on the couch.

“Just keep watching,” you murmur, eyes focused on the TV.

The next clip cuts to about thirty minutes later, when Seokjin still had yet to arrive to Hana’s house. You are starting to panic.

“I texted him but he hasn’t replied. He can’t be standing me up,” you say, looking at Hana sadly. “I can’t go without a date to prom, I can’t, its too embarrassing.”

Hana grabs a tissue from the box behind you on the countertop and dabs it under your eyes. “Don’t cry, your makeup will run. And hey, if you don’t go, I won’t go either.”

Yoongi walks closer to the two of you, seething out, “I’ll kick his ass, I swear,” before walking away.

The group chuckles at that, seeing how heated Yoongi had gotten over the possibility of not being able to attend prom too. 

The camera had followed Yoongi down the hall to the staircase, where Hoseok was apparently in a conversation with Hana’s mom.

“Hobi, I have a great idea. Why don’t you take Y/N to the prom?” she asks in a hushed tone as Hoseok is looking at his phone.

He chuckles before sarcastically replying, “Yeah, okay Aunt Jisoo. Like that’ll happen.”

From behind the camera, you can hear Jihun chime in.

“Your Aunt is right, Hoseok. You should take her. You can wear my tux, we’re practically the same size.”

“She wouldn’t want to go with me anyways, even if I did offer to take her,” Hoseok retorts dejectedly.

“Oh come on Hoseok, you’re a college man! Who gives a shit about some high school guy; you’re the real deal! Even if you weren’t in college, she would still be lucky to go with you,” you hear Jisun argue.

Your eyes are practically glued to the screen at this point. You had no idea that this conversation ever happened. Apparently, Hana is the same way as she can’t seem to look away either.

Hoseok locks his phone before shoving it in his pocket and meeting Jihun’s eyes. “I don’t know, she just sees me as Hana’s cousin that’s a pain in her ass all the time.��

“Oh come on, Hobi, look at her. She’s devastated,” he says, turning the camera back towards you and Hana standing by the counter.

You’re trying so hard to hold back your tears, as you whimper, “I can’t believe I’m not going to get to go to my own prom. I’ve literally dreamed of this since I was thirteen, Hana. We’ve dreamed of this since we were thirteen. Why is the universe playing this cruel joke on me?”

Hana continues to comfort you as the camera pans back to Hoseok talking with his aunt and uncle.

“…Okay,” he finally agrees. “Show me where the tux is.”

“Guys, I think we’ve seen enough,” Hoseok’s voice chimes in from your side. “Let’s change it to something else now.”

A chorus of denials comes from the group behind you, but you’re still in shock, eyes never once leaving the TV.

“Fine, but I’m not going to watch anymore,” Hoseok states, standing up from his chair and walking behind the group into the kitchen.

“Alright Hoseok, let’s see!” Aunt Jisoo says, now the one behind the camera. Uncle Jihun walks out of their bedroom first, followed by Hoseok. He is clad in a classic black tuxedo with a white shirt and a black tie. His hair has some product in it and is styled in a sexy kind of messy way, courtesy of Jihun.

“Oh, don’t you look handsome!” she exclaims. “Let’s go show the girls!”

Aunt Jisoo begins to walk backwards down the stairs, camera still on Hoseok as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, muttering to himself. What sounds like ‘be cool, it’ll all be fine,” appear to come from his mouth a few times before he reaches the top of the steps. He grabs some flowers from their vase in the hallway before beginning his descent down the steps.

“Y/N! Wait until you see who-“ you hear Jihun begin, before he stops himself at the bottom of the steps.

“Oh.”

“Look who finally showed up!” you exclaim excitedly, in the process of taking pictures in front of the fireplace with your date, Seokjin. Hana and Yoongi are standing on the other side of you, looking equally as happy with his arrival.

“Oh dear,” you hear Aunt Jisoo whisper from behind the camera. Hoseok had stopped at the top of the stairs at the sound of your voice, the words from your mouth halting him in his place before he could be visible to anyone else.

“Jihun, how do I turn this off?” you hear her ask. Hoseok’s face is still in the frame. You can see him visibly swallow before looking at the camera and turning around to walk back into the bedroom he just came from, slamming the door behind him.

The screen then cuts to black.

The tension in the room couldn’t even be cut with a sword if anyone tried.

So that’s where he had gone when he disappeared? You assumed he got bored of all of the prom stuff and dipped without saying goodbye in true Hoseok fashion. Never in your life would you have guessed he was getting ready to take you to prom since your date had assumingly stood you up.

Everyone turns to look behind the couches to the kitchen where Hoseok stood. His one hand is on the counter, the other fidgeting with the bottom of his old Supreme t-shirt.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Hana breathes out.

Hoseok remains silent for a few seconds before responding with, “Yeah.”

You can hardly manage to look at Hoseok, still overcome with so many thoughts and emotions.

Why on Earth would he do that for you? For years Hoseok had always just been your best friend’s annoying cousin that always made you feel like the odd guy out in their friendship. That only changed once you went to college and could finally be seen as a somewhat equal to him, you assumed.

“You’ve liked her for THAT long?” Hana asks. “I thought it was just a recent thing.”

That breaks you from your trance. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve been noticing something was up with him recently, I figured maybe it was stress from work but I realized that he only acted that way whenever you were around or even just mentioned. I just assumed.”

“Oh no, it’s been going on way longer than you think,” Namjoon chimed in.

“I’ll fucking rip your hair out of your head if you say another word, Namjoon,” Hoseok threatens from the kitchen.

Namjoon ignores the blatant threat of violence to his scalp and continues. “Freshman year he wouldn’t shut up about how much he missed this girl from back home. Told us all about how she had one of the worst temperaments out of anyone he knew, but it was charming. After every vacation we would come back to school and he would say that she just keeps getting more beautiful every time he sees her. Super corny if you ask me, but the dude was clearly in love so hey, who was I to judge? Imagine my surprise now to find out that it was Y/N after all this time.”

Your eyes are glued to Hoseok and his eyes are glued to the floor. His knuckles are white from gripping the counter so hard.

You slowly stand up, before softly asking, “Hoseok, how long have you felt that way about me?”

His gaze doesn’t lift from the floor as he awkwardly chuckles. “Do you remember after your first day of high school, where you came home so excited because some guy asked you for your number?”

You stare at him in astonishment. “Hoseok, that was over fifteen years ago.”

He nods. “Embarrassing, right? To be in love with your cousin’s best friend for nearly two decades, with absolutely no expectation of reciprocation? Trust me, I tried to get over you.  I dated other girls, I slept with other girls; you know that. At the end of the day though, I could be cuddling someone else and still be disappointed that it wasn’t you instead.”

His eyes lift from the floor to finally meet your wide ones. Your jaw drops a bit unexpectedly.

Of course you had always considered the fact that maybe one day you and Hoseok would end up together. It made sense, you had grown up together and he was that kind of friend where at 16 you make the agreement to marry each other if you aren’t already married by 30, but never actually take it seriously because you both know that it’ll never happen.

You had never suspected that he had felt this strongly about you for this long.

You rack your brain trying to think of any signs that you could have missed.

There was that one time when you were a junior in high school and you had just broken up with your first boyfriend after finding out that he had been texting other girls behind your back. Hoseok and Hana comforted you the whole day Saturday, watching reruns of That 70’s Show with you and stuffing your faces with cheesy breadsticks from the local pizza place. The following Monday at school, your ex-boyfriend showed up with a black eye. You were surprised but never questioned what had happened.

There was also the time when you were a senior in college doing your student teaching, and you were convinced that you had chosen the wrong major because the students you had to teach were so awful and rude to you. Hoseok had listened to you ramble on in tears about how you had screwed up your whole life and credit report for a profession that wasn’t right for you. He had calmed you down and talked some sense into you, and even helped you to develop a new lesson plan and teaching approach that might work better with the students, even though he knew close to nothing about math education or making lesson plans.

Then there was the time that you were all out at Yeona’s birthday dinner when you got the call from your mom that your grandfather had died. Hoseok was the one to drive you home and hold you all night as you sobbed over the loss of the man you had looked up to for so many years.

Then of course, the memory you didn’t even know was a memory until three minutes ago. Hoseok had dressed in his uncle’s tuxedo to take you to your prom, knowing how much you had gushed over going to prom since he had practically met you.

More memories came into play and hit you like a ton of bricks. You fell forward a bit, catching yourself on the arm of the chair previously occupied by Hoseok.

“Oh my God,” you whisper. You finally met his eyes and slowly began to walk over to him, a disbelieving pout on your face.

As you come closer to him, you’re hit with a new wave of emotions. This time, reminding you of all of the things he has done that have made your own heart flutter that you continuously pushed away.

The time that you first saw him after dance camp, and you noticed the way that his arms were a bit more toned than they were in the spring and you felt you heart rate increase, but blamed it on the frappucino you were drinking.

The time that you watched him in his first college dance showcase and you could see the passion in his face. The fluidity of his moves was enthralling, and continues to be to this day. You remember not being able to look away and getting a fluttery feeling in your stomach, but blamed it on the cold you were still getting over.

The time that you attended your first college party with him and he made sure that you didn’t get too out of control. He was dressed in an all black outfit that didn’t seem to suit his personality, but he still made it work and you felt your heart flutter again. When he pushed away the creepy guy that attempted to feel you up on the couch and your heart dropped into your stomach at the protectiveness you thought was coming from a big brother perspective.

The time that you got the offer for your full time job and he hugged you so tightly you thought he might snap you in half, and you got that same fluttery feeling in your stomach that you had all those times before.

How had you been so blind for so long?

Standing in front of him now, you look up at his face and graze his chin with your fingers, gingerly tilting his head up to look at yours.

Looking into his eyes briefly, you know instantly that you will not regret what you are about to do.

So you kiss him, and dear God it was like you had done it a million times before.

The way that you fall into each other so effortlessly, his hands grabbing at your sides as yours cupped his cheeks.

“I told you it would fucking happen! I knew she felt the same way!” Yeona yelled from behind you.

You break away from the kiss and immediately pull him into a hug, your head resting on his shoulder.

“You should have told me sooner,” you whisper.

“I couldn’t. I didn’t want to risk losing you completely,” he whispered back.

“Jung Hoseok,” you say in disbelief, pulling back a bit to look at his face. “Did you really think that little of me that you think I would cut you, someone that has stuck by my side for over twenty years, off in the blink of an eye because you have feelings for me that you thought I didn’t reciprocate?”

He simply stared at you, not knowing what to say.

You leaned your forehead against his, before whispering onto his lips, “You’re even stupider than I thought you were,” and kissing him again.

“Eh-hem,” you hear a throat clear from behind you again. Breaking away, you meet the eyes of Hana, arms crossed and giving you a smirk.

“Hana, if you’re not okay with this, we don’t have to-“

“Save it, I’ve been waiting for Hoseok to make a move for months. I’m glad you finally did. Just please keep the PDA to a minimum. I don’t need to see my cousin and my best friend sucking face and groping each other in front of me,” she shudders.

You laugh before turning back to Hoseok.

“Does this mean you’ll give me a chance?” Hoseok asks breathlessly.

“Of course it does, you idiot. Now kiss me again before I change my mind.”

[rfsak2]

Cactus, Part XV

This one was loads of fun to write! I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

Cactus, Part XV Summary: Family matters. The Styles Warnings: Media tomfoolery but nothing too bad I hope.

They should’ve known that this wouldn’t be easy. They should’ve known that they weren’t going to get away with it.

They had a solid six months before the paps caught on that they were dating and just shy of that before they realized they had gotten married.

And she still really didn’t know how they managed to pull that off honestly.

They had only put in the bare effort into hiding early on. She would book the table because no one knew her name, they only frequented places where he was less likely to be known or places owned by friends they could trust, they never went to parties together, showing up with ‘separate’ groups of friends and leaving in different cars even if they were going to be spending the night together.

Honestly, she just didn’t think people had been expecting him to be with someone like her. She was too short, too plebeian, too curvy, too appallingly normal. It just never entered anyone’s mind that the Harry fuckin’ Styles would be into normal, everyday Jamie Schwartz.

Look who’s fuckin’ laughin’ now, bitch?

The media.

The correct answer was the media was still fuckin’ laughing.

Jamie sighed and rubbed at her face with her free hand.

They had waited a whole week before going to an OB GYN to have the pregnancy officially confirmed, waiting out the off-chance that some pap had gotten a picture of Lou buying a pregnancy test, had made a logical leap and landed on the truth.

But nothing…

No photos. No twitter or tumblr posts by fans who didn’t #RespectHarry. Nothing. Radio Silence.

So it all seemed rather wasted, this absolutely hellish week spent guarding themselves against working themselves into a frenzy just in case they were destined to be let down by notoriously inaccurate technology.

Really though, you could do a drug test at home now. Should be able to get a pretty bloody accurate pregnancy test… if you asked her.

Jamie chewed on her thumbnail, other hand hooked in Harry’s elbow.

He was seconds from going absolutely ballistic and every flash that he saw despite their position carefully hidden away from prying eyes was only ratcheting it up further.

This was the angriest she’d ever seen him.

This is worse than the time he had lifted his arms (to get yet another candle that he didn’t need, not that she mentioned it) only to reveal a very dark, suggestively low hickey only partially hidden by the low rise of his jeans. A hickey that the media blew (ha! she could make puns too) way out of proportion and still occasionally hounded on.

It was worse than the time he had gotten caught (and recorded) engaging in a particularly raunchy round of phone sex with her. It was worse than when he found out that that recording was still floating around the internet despite #RespectHarry.

This was worse than the time, he found (read: was sent) a crude cartoon of her sucking his dick made by some coward who’d spent entirely too much time perfecting her tattoos and not near as much time learning how to respect people’s privacy.

She pressed a kiss to his shoulder but he was so tense, his jaw so tight she doubted it mattered.

Surveying the doctor’s office with a mixture of disgust and sheer rage, he all but growled down at her. “Are yeh okay, Jamie?”

She kissed his chin. “Course. Are you?”

He turned and laid his forehead against hers. “I should be bloody over-the-moon. I should be fuckin’ floatin’ but these… these fuckin’ cunts are ruinin’ it..”

Hooking a hand around the back of his neck and tangling her fingers in the curls that were forming there, she shushed him, finger pressed to his lips. “I’m over-the-moon. You wanna know why?”

He tried to smile for her. “Why, love?”

She smiled. “I fuckin’ estactic, Harry, because I’m having your baby and I’m healthy and I’ve been cleared to keep touring. Those assholes aren’t going to change that. They can’t ruin that for us, baby. The person who leaked this can’t ruin this for us. I’m having your child. Who gives a fuck what they or anyone else has to say about that?” She flattened his massive hand against her stomach and accepted the kiss he pressed to her mouth.

Looking just shy of nirvanic, blissed out smile on his recently relaxed face, he rubbed his thumb over her still flat tummy, whispering, “You’re having my baby.”

She nodded and kissed him again. “I’m having your baby.”

“Mr. Styles?”

Suddenly all business again, Harry straightened and she slipped her hand from his hair, his hand still laid protectively over her.

“The car is here, sir. And Brandon sent more guys. They’re going to clear a path and then we’re gonna walk out.”

Harry nodded. Swinging an arm around her shoulders, he tucked her into his side and kissed her forehead. He grinned. “Let’s do this shit.”

**

She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. “No, Harry.”

“Love-”

“No. I don’t need a stool. I am perfectly capable of standing.”

He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Jamie, it’s for just in case. In case yeh get tired, love.”

She set her hands on his shoulders and leaned as close in as she could with an acoustic guitar hanging in front of her. “Listen to me. I am barely a month along, baby. I am perfectly healthy and you were there when the doctor said, aside from the obvious, that I didn’t need to make any signific-”

“I’m not askin’-”

“-significant changes to my lifestyle.” She smiled at him as he pouted.

His smile was a bit tight but she chose not to mention it. “I’m not askin’ yeh to change yer (our) lifestyle, monster. I simply want yeh to acknowledge that yer pregnant and that you need to be careful.” He shrugged. “Also I don’t know why we haven’t told at least the guys and Jeff.”

She shook her head and steadied her guitar as she stooped to get her bottle of water. “I’m fine with tellin’ Jeff and maybe the guys, however… however.” She grabbed his hand. “Baby, if we’re gonna miscarriage… it’s going to be in the next couple of months most likely. I don’t… it will break both of us to have to… to have to explain that.” She kissed his hand. “It’s best to keep it to ourselves for now, just you, me and Lou and Jeff if you want. And our parents, of course.”

He leaned in for a kiss and nodded. “Okay. That’s reasonable.”

She smiled. “I knew you were going to do this.”

He winced. “Do want, love?”

Sipping her water, her eyebrow arched and she smirked. “Be a hoverer…There are still six months left in the tour. You’re gonna give yourself a coronary.”

“I’m just trying to take care of you… you two.” He knocked foreheads with her. “Is there anything you need that I can provide you?”

She smiled. “Can we finish rehearsal so I can take a nap?”

Grinning, he started backing up towards his mic. “I thought you weren’t tired, Dolores Styles.”

She did not look amused. “I thought you were a smart man, Harry Styles.”

He held his hands up. “Fine, fine… I love yeh.”

“You are so lucky you’re cute.” She blew him a kiss. “I love you too.”

**

“Do you want tea, Jamie-love?”

She jumped, still staring at the tea trolley.

It had been set up pretty much exclusively for Louis and Jamie to partake in their respective tea obsessions. Her cactus mug and Louis’ favorite mug sat in the places of honor next to the kettle and mocked her.

“No, that’s okay…”

Louis chuckled. “You sure? You never turn down tea.”

She smiled tightly and tore her eyes away from caffeinated heaven only to see her decidedly not pregnant husband with his morning coffee.

Backing away from the trolley, she shook her head. “Nah.. I probably shouldn’t.”

“You sick, love?”

She shook her head and glared pointedly at Harry. “No, it’s just been makin’ my heart race, recently. Fuckin’ with my sleep schedule… probably should cut back.”

Louis nodded vaguely. “If yer sure…”

“I’m sure.” She didn’t look sure.

Trying to be as casual as possible, she made her way to the breakfast table. She leaned over Harry’s shoulder and sucked the lobe of his ear into her mouth. Voice low so the conspicuously un-nosy men at the table couldn’t hear, she purred. “I’m angry that you can drink caffeine-“

“Sorry, love.” He sounded entirely too smug to be truly sorry. “Don’t make the rules.”

“I’m angry and I want to fuck your brains out.” She nipped at his ear. “You comin’ hubby?”

He threw back the rest of his coffee and stood, the chair loudly scraping behind him. “Be back later.”

“Yeah ok, mate.” Liam rolled his eyes.

The door hadn’t even properly closed behind her by the time she’d swept her Eagles shirt over her head and started shimmying her jeans down her legs. Grunting in frustration, she paused the descent of her jeans to toe off her chucks.

She eyed him, standing by the door, one hand absently palming himself through his jeans. She licked her lips, noticing how his eyes followed the motion and he squeezed himself hard.

She loved the crazy suits and the pussy-bows, crooning behind a guitar like the lovechild of Mick Jagger and Elvis. She really did, but there was just something about Harry in tight jeans and a sheer shirt unbuttoned to his bloody navel.

His chest and thighs… Hell, if they didn’t just inform her every daydream.

“You gonna do something, pretty boy?”

**

Lou ran a comb through Jamie’s hair and shook her head, fighting a losing battle against post-nap tangles. “Your child is going to have the most unruly hair imaginable. It’s literally going to be the stuff my nightmares are made of.”

Jamie yawned. “Harry’s hair isn’t that bad.”

Snorting, Lou set the comb down with an audible snap. “He has more bloody hair than anyone I’ve ever met and now it’s getting long again, for which I have you to thank, I’m sure.”

Jamie shrugged. “I like it. Looks good on him.”

Lou smiled at her in the mirror. “It does… just a pain in my arse, is all.”

“So sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.” Jamie grinned and crossed her arms over her chest. Hissing, she pulled her arms away. “Fuck me.”

Chuckling, Lou reached for a bobby pin. “Tender, lovely?”

Jamie nodded. “All’a sudden too. They weren’t this bad this morning.” She adjusted her shirt so she was a bit more covered. “They’re getting bigger too. Jesus, I look like a tavern wench.”

“Hazza’s gotta like that…”

Snorting, Jamie did up one more button before deciding she didn’t like it. “Good maybe he can carry them around for awhile.” She sighed. “I either look like a barmaid or nun… I can’t win.”

“You need a new bra.” Lou eyed Jamie’s chest.

“Can’t buy online, I need to be measured. I hate bra shopping.” Jaime huffed. “My luck I’ve gone up a whole cup.”

“How big were you before?”

“Double-D.” She sighed. “I’m probably a fuckin’ E now or something. What even is after Double-D? I’ll have to get shit made. How many cup sizes did you gain with Lux?”

“Probably one maybe two.” Lou made a face and reached for the hairspray. “But I was never as buxom as you, lovely. Only two months in and you’ve already gained at least a cup. You’re gonna be porn star big by the time you give birth.”

“Fuck…”

Lou grinned at her in the mirror. “The girls with straight hair always want curly hair and the girls with curly hair always want it straight.”

Jamie rolled her eyes. “You don’t want none of this, Lou-boo. They are gigantic pains. Literally and figuratively.”

“Got you one of the most eligible men in the world though.”

“I personally hope that it was my stellar personality and my mad guitar skills.” She stuck her tongue out. “But again, if he likes them so much, he’s welcome to have them.”

“Have what, monster?”

“My tits.” She looked up and smiled at Harry, noticing too late that the door was open and three uncomfortable men were lingering outside of it. She shrugged, not in the mood to care. “You can have them. I don’t want ‘em anymore.”

Harry grinned. “I’d take ‘em, love, but they look much prettier on you than they will ever look on me.”

“Excuses, excuses.” She stood and Harry tried to draw her into a hug. She winced and put a hand out to stop him. “No hugs…” She motioned at her breasts and whispered, “They’re killin’ me, baby.”

He nodded and leaned over for a kiss instead. “By the way… I noticed this morning. Your tits are bigger.”

“No fuckin’ shit.”

**

“Yeh ready, love?”

She nodded and Harry stuck his head out of the little Camry they had rented to be incognito. Brandon strolled back around the corner and reached for the door. “Coast is clear, Mr. Styles.”

Harry stepped out of the car and held a hand for her. They strolled, as casually as possible into the OB GYN office.

Harry walked up to the front and smiled down at the gaping receptionist. “Hi, we’re the-”

“Styles.” The woman jumped up. “Of course, the doctor is waiting for you. Follow me.”

She led them into a prep room where she took Jamie’s height, weight and vitals and then led them to a back exam room where the doctor was waiting for them.

“Hello!” The doctor smiled kindly. “Go ahead and hop up on the exam bed, Mrs. Styles. Mr. Styles, you can take a seat in that chair by the bed, please.”

They did as they were bid, Harry reaching out for Jamie’s hand when she was situated.

“How have you been, ma’am?”

Jamie smiled. “I’ve been fine, yeah.”

“Good.” She flipped open Jamie’s file. “Any morning sickness?” Jamie shook her head. “Really? Lucky you! Fatigue, more so than what you’d expect on a tour?”

“Yeah, I’ve been taking naps on top of sleeping later than usual. I tend to sleep late but I rarely ever take naps.”

She made a note. “Any headaches?”

“Just from quitting caffeine.”

“That will do it. Moodiness?” Harry nodded for Jamie and she pinched his arm. Chuckling, the doctor made a note. “Breast tenderness?” A nod. “Any anxiety, more severe than you’d expect. Of course, some anxiety is very normal.”

“A little but, I’ve chalked it up to the general moodiness and fatigue. It hasn’t been debilitating or anything.”

“Good. Good.” She smiled. “Have you been eating normally?”

“Yes, she has.” Harry muffled a snort into his hand. “She’s been eating bloody everything. A bag of those baby carrots a day… if not two. Never seen anyone eat so many bloody carrots.”

“Hush you.” Jamie swatted at his arm and Harry leaned in for a kiss. She shook her head. “No one asked you.”

“It’s cute, love. I, for one, am glad yer not pullin’ a Kate Middleton and gettin’ stuck in hospital.”

The doctor chuckled. “Exactly. With the lack of morning sickness, that’s to be expected and it is a good thing considering you seem to be craving something healthy. Some women have problems keeping weight on while others gain too much during the first trimester. Are you experiencing any strange symptoms that you’re worried about?”

Jamie shook her head.

“Well your vitals are great and as long as you’re feeling well then let’s move on. Do you have any questions before we do what you really came here for?”

Harry squeezed her hand as Jamie shook her head.

The doctor smiled. “Well then, roll up that shirt, Mrs. Styles and lean back.” Turning back to Jamie with a gloved hand full of jelly, the doctor chuckled. “My! You’re covered in tattoos, aren’t you? Might be the most tattooed mama I’ve had.”

Jamie tensed as she spread the cool gel over her lower stomach. “Jeez… It’s cold.”

“Yes it is.” The doctor winked and lifted the wand. “Let’s go! Sit back and relax. Sometimes it can take a bit to find them this early.” She focused on the screen. “So do you plan on getting tattooed for this little one?”

Jamie shrugged, eyes also fixed on the whole lot of nothing on the screen. “Yeah, I’d think so… I haven’t really given it much thought honestly.”

“I am.”

Jamie turned to Harry and squeezed his hand. “Yeah? What are you gonna get, baby?”

He shrugged and lifted her hand to his mouth. Pressing his lips to her knuckle, he grinned. “Don’t know yet. I’ve got a couple ideas.”

She smiled. “I think I wan-”

“Here the little one is!”

They both turned to the screen, eyes wide as the doctor pointed to the screen. Jamie covered her mouth with her free hand. “Holy shit.”

The doctor pointed to a light spot in the sea of black. “There they are. This right here,” She enlarged the image and pointed to a tiny rhythmically quivering spot. “That is the baby’s heart. Can’t hear it on the machine so we’ll use a different piece of equipment. It’s good that we can see it. Everything looks normal.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Jamie saw Harry wipe at his eyes. She cupped his jaw and pulled him to her. He grinned. “That’s our baby, love.”

She nodded and kissed him.

Jamie turned back to the doctor as she pressed another piece of equipment to her belly, setting aside the previous wand. She moved it around a bit and Jamie gasped as the sound of a very fast, very muffled heartbeat filled the room.

“That’s Baby Styles’ heartbeat and it sounds wonderful. Good and strong.”

**

She pulled her cord through her guitar strap and plugged in, eyeing Liam as he made his way toward her.

“Yeh like carrots, dontcha, Jamie-love?”

She grinned and squatted to talk to him from the band riser. “What?”

“Carrots?” He held up a bag full of baby carrots. “You’ve been eatin’ loads of carrots.”

“Yeah… I mean I like carrots.” He offered her the bag and she took it, wearing a confused frown. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

He shrugged, already turning to walk away. “Eat them? Pregnant ladies need to eat.”

She went pale. “What! How did you know?” She stood and motioned at Harry. “Harry Edward Styles!”

Liam chuckled and came back to the band riser. “He didn’t tell, Jamie.”

“Monster, sit on the edge of the platform. Don’t want yeh fallin’.” Harry loped over. “What is it?”

“Liam fuckin’ knows I’m pregnant!” She turned back to Liam. “How did you know?”

“What? Y’know?” Harry frowned at Liam, but turned back to her, patting the edge of the platform. “Sit.”

“You’re hoverin’ again, baby.” She sat, guitar sitting awkwardly in her lap. “Seriously, Liam, how did you know?”

Niall came up behind Liam and Harry, Louis right behind him. “Know what?”

Liam motioned vaguely at Jamie. “Y’know.”

“Oh, that.” Niall nodded. “Yeah, we all know.”

“What?” Harry frowned. “How?”

Niall chuckled into his fist. “Well, first, Harry is actin’ like he wants to wrap ye up in bubble-wrap.”

Louis laughed. “You two are not as sneaky as you’d like t’think. Jamie-love, you take a nap everyday at four and you’ve been turnin’ down tea, both of which you never did before.”

Niall nodded. “You’ve also been a wee bit irritable and aside from the morning, you’ve never been all that irritable befo’.”

“I am not irritable. You take that back!”

Laughing into his fist, Liam nodded. “You are irritable, Jamie-love. Sorry t’tell ya.”

“And who goes to a normal gyno appointment with their woman, Haz? No one does that!” Louis smiled. “I don’t even think the media believed that.”

“I like to be a supportive husband.”

“No one is that supportive and if you tell me that you’ve gone to any of her other appointments, I’ll call you a liar.”

“And last but not least,” Liam grinned. “You two have not been able to bloody keep your hands off each other. Seems like you’re bloody nippin’ off to have sex every five minutes.”

Jamie blushed, looking absolutely mortified. “Jesus.”

Harry rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

Liam shrugged. “It’s nothin’ to be ashamed of or anythin’, I just find it hilarious that you think you’re that sneaky.” He smiled. “How far along are you?”

“She’s ten w-”

“We’re on in two. Everybody get-”

Jamie turned towards the assistant and whisper-screamed. “You’ll have to give us a minute. We’re havin’ a bloody family meeting!”

The boys went silent, before Niall dissolved into giggles, doubling over, as the other guys joined him. “And yer not irritable, right, Jamie?”

She frowned and flicked Niall off, before turning back to the assistant. “I’m sorry about that. Give us a minute more please?”

Liam reached over to squeeze Harry’s shoulder. “So ten weeks? Pretty much out of the danger zone, yeah?”

“Danger zone?” Niall looked confused.

Liam nodded. “Most women miscarry in the first trimester. That’s why it’s kinda traditional to not say anything right away.”

She nodded. “Yeah, we uh.. We heard the heartbeat last week. Doctor said that chances are now low that I’ll miscarry… We were just tryin’ to figure out how to tell y’all.” She winced. “Hope you don’t feel like we were keepin’ secrets or anythin’.”

Louis squeezed her knee. “Nah, Jamie-love, sometimes you gotta keep things to yerself… keep it in the family and all that.”

Harry shook his head. “Yeah, but you are family, innit right? We’re family. We didn’t want t’haf te go back and break everyone’s heart if we lost.. lost the baby.”

“We’ve got ye, bruv. Nothin’ to worry ‘bout.” Louis pulled him into a hug. “Now Niall jus’ needs to get his bird pregnant and everyone’s got a sprog.”

“Well, actually…”

Everyone turned to Niall who shook his head. “I’m just kiddin’...”

Liam reached over and popped him in the back of the head. “On a serious note, congratulations you two. You’re both going to be great parents.”

Jamie pulled her guitar over her head and set it on the floor. “Help me down. I want a hug.”

Harry helped her down and the boys all but enveloped her in a hug. Pulling away a couple minutes later, she wiped at her eyes. “Now get set before production hates me.”

Part XIV Up Next: Part XVI

[bestfluteninja]

quotes from marching band, 2k17

these are actual things that people in my marching band said during the 2017 season. prepare yourself. (if you want context just shoot me an ask and i’ll try to provide it)

“I like your dad hat”

“Fuck you!” “You would”

“I hate him so much”

“Does anyone have lotion?”

“I need a new oboe reed cause mine is shit”

“I forgot sunscreen”

“Happy June camp!” “How is it happy?” “I’m trying to be positive here”

“Mr. H took his Tide bottle away”

“There’s a big shiny object in the sky. It’s the sun. It does this thing called shining”

“I’m gonna get a rotisserie chicken tattooed on my forehead”

“Dis line tho”

“And remember, I don’t care”

“He was just sitting on the toilet, pants down, phone out, playing Clash of Clans or something”

“Why are you sitting outside?” “Because if I wanted to be around people, I’d be inside”

“Just finished a drug deal”

[after chucking a phone across the parking lot into the grass] “The screen isn’t cracked but the case is!”

“Stop spraying people with sunscreen”

“SPF sun-resistant”

“Your pants are not ripping apart, it’s okay”

“It’s been in my bra and it’s still warm”

“He got a penny stuck in his trumpet”

“Let’s do me”

“Aww yeah, sun cancer”

“Right in the stomach

“I’m the best noodle”

“I use a pencil sharpener”

“Why is my binder always backwards and upside down”

“Someone just died”

“We’re so good at circles”

“Okay, guys, this circle is turning into a triangle”

“I’m turning into a meme”

“She forgot her instrument at first”

“I ran into a Little Cesar’s building”

“Nothing ever happens in marching band, this is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened” [there was a small lake in the indoor room where woodwinds were supposed to practice]

“My heart actually started beating, and I thought no”

“I found myself being nice and it just didn’t sit with me”

“I want to eat but my stomach’s rejecting it”

“A tree fell on my house again”

“If you want a good comeback, you have to be creative, you sea dolphin”

“I’ll bottle flip a tree onto your house”

“Being high is better than being asleep”

“I like having my earbuds in and not paying attention while I walk across the street”

“I cried this morning”

“He doesn’t look like a Logan, he looks like a Bob”

“I can’t carry everything and your everything else”

“I’m gonna tondo this foot straight up your ass”

“She’s literally a noodle:

“You can hate me all you want, I don’t care:

“School starts in three weeks–” *various screaming pterodactyl noises* “–and I won’t mention that again”

“People who run across the road are extra” “I don’t care if you think I’m extra, I don’t wanna get run over”

“That is where the drum line is. Never go there.”

“I’m not a white k-pop fan that only listens to BTS. Well, I am, but I listen to other bands too”

“I thought the baritone girl was you”

“I hate this, I hate being here, it makes me hate myself” “Then why are you here?” “To get gym credits”

“Come see how done your boyfriend is”

“There’s a catastrophe over there”

“People swat at sweat bees and then they miss and just hit you”

“You only have one reed?”

“I like diabetes-sweet coffee”

“I like coffee as bitter as I am”

“Don’t ‘yeah’ me, fucking fix it”

“I watched the first episode, and there was a bunch of naked people, and I was like ‘nope’“

“Instrument catches on fire? Keep your feet in time”

“Can I go up for thirds yet?”

“Put your damn chicken nuggets down”

“They were standing on the sideline catcalling me and I missed a step off and once we got off the field I went ‘motherfuckers’“

“I will not have you spreading rumors that I’m selling drugs to the students”

“Don’t forget your necks”

“You suck!” “For a dollar”

“It’s like Cards Against Humanity, but it’s visuals against saxophones”

“Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right–” “Left!” “WRONG”

“I have my own shady not-drugs”

“That’s blood”

“Look at this sweat fucking bee” “That’s a regular bee” [pokes it with drumstick]

“Mom! Face forward when you’re on the bus” “Then I can’t see what you’re up to”

“THE STUDENT SECTION CHEERED!”

“It doesn’t give you energy, it just loads you with caffeine”

“When you leaned down, I could see your boobs” “Were they nice boobs?” “Yeah” “Then that’s all that matters”

“Am I embarrassing you?” “Little bit”

“Oh are we playing the school song? Thanks for telling me”

“That is a lot of birds on there, that’s concerning”

“I forgot my flute”

“Look at our school, going over the curb”

“Let’s go smash the liquid banana”

“Can I have a hand hug?”

“Do you have a hair tie around your phone?” “I do. I also have ten dollars I found on the bus”

“Marching band is the only form of slavery still legal in the United States”

“I somehow accumulated three water bottles” “You’re gonna pee clear”

“When do I not want chik-fil-a?”

“I constantly have to pee”

“I have three water bottles” “I’m proud of you”

“How do you think you did?” “Better than first place”

“Which came first, calculus or physics?”

“Y’all stink worse than the guard bus”

“Close your eyes and it’ll seem dark”

“There’s tired, and then there’s band competition tired”

“I just went through puberty, second time around”

“I need to blow my nose and pet my dog”

“Can I braid your leg hair?”

“I generally don’t like to tell my boyfriend I’m cheating on him”

“There’s a Starbucks nearby”

“Why do I relate so much to the small child?” “Which one?” “The one who’s screaming”

“Avon just marches in a block and the judges are like ‘amazing, first place’“

“I don’t care if you die” “I’ve never seen this side of the flutes before” “I promise we’re all friends in the flute section”

“I’m gonna eat my own asshole” “Can I have half?”

“There is nothing productive going on over there”

“Why does God hate me?”

“I’m allergic to the prescribed crap”

“Are you eating a doughnut?” [takes another bite of doughnut] “No”

“I hate this band”

“Did we lose the other bus again?”

“They definitely wouldn’t notice a 220 pound man jumping out a window”

“If you don’t know who Frank Sinatra is, just leave”

“A bee just landed on my nose”

“We set the standard really low”

“I love you, band moms. You feed us so well”

“McDonald’s is where it’s aaaaaat”

“Why is this part of my body sweating?”

“I’m gonna hoard my food”

“See, the show choir moms just don’t care”

“I’m not a fork”

“It’s three o’clock? I thought it was like six”

“Well if you look at my phone it’s seven thirty a.m. yesterday”

“I just hate the flutes”

“I wonder if I could walk through the drive-through”

“Your voice is lower, like you’re trying to be seductive”

“Oh, you mean on Snapchat, I thought you meant like tracking”

“I have one percent oh no mayday mayday”

“You almost just died” “But it would have been spectacular”

“That’s not flying, that’s falling very fast. With style”

“I love birds–no, I hate birds”

“What’s on your bucket list?”

“I don’t pay attention to non-human menstrual cycles”

“Rifle butts are cute”

“Oh my god a bass drum”

“Do you like my snuggie?”

“It looks like Christmas and a highlighter had a baby”

“I will eat anything that’s edible”

“I thought it was ‘fluti’ like ‘cacti’“

“He makes a better Elsa than Elsa”

“It fits everywhere but the boobs”

“I have chik-fil-a in my pocket”

“You want a present? I found it in the ceiling”

“The hell-word”

“Why wouldn’t I want a donut?”

“Afraid of diabetes? Have you seen what I eat?”

“I just really love food today”

“Don’t break physics”

“I would suck someone’s dick for twenty dollars”

“Activate your thighs”

“I have pep in my step, man”

[hobbling dangerously fast on crutches] “I’m a trained medical professional!”

“If you don’t feel like you’re attacking your neighbor, you’re doing it wrong”

“Why are y’all having orgies on the stairs?”

“Why do we have two trash bags?” “One for the people, one for the stuff”

[singing] “We are family, even though you’re whiter than me”

“Make it iCarly. Throw the bagel at the wall”

“Get a room, you two”

“Who wants drugs?”

“He’s like a white Catholic man at a rave”

“Come hither, children, into the house of pee”

“I have just been mcflashed”

“Why?” “Meme”

“What in precipiatation”

“We can all be flat together”

“Wrong plus wrong equals less wrong”

“There may or may not be a hip thrust”

“The moon is an illusion”

“It’s hte one where we sit in the middle of the floor and they announce all our failures”

“Make the voices in your heat be a metronome”

“I forgot how to write the letter 9″

“The size of this mushroom is ungodly”

“The sun has not risen yet we should not be here”

“Nap time corner!”

“Will nut for heat”

“I am scientifically burning up”

“Please never make that noise again. You sounded like a hawk jumping off a bridge”

“There is no dying permitted in my section”

“A bird pooped on my shoulder!”

“It’s not about the size, it’s how you use it”

“Is your mom coming?” “Unfortunately”

“I’m a pretty pink princess”

“Your mom gave me extra candy on Halloween”

“Boy do I love men in tights”

“I’m not giving this boy ten dollars for a Gatorade”

“You got your charger, right? So if I watch Netflix I can use it?”

“I have to turn it up just a little so it doesn’t have a seizure”

“Get Spotify premium so there aren’t ads!” “It’s YouTube, calm down”

“I think I have that exact same bra on right now”

“They have kettle corn!!!”

“One, two, three, NUT”

“I didn’t know hair could have personality until I saw your hair flips”

“Midstates is a pity competition, like, oh, you didn’t make state? Have midstates” “Yeah, but I wanna win the pity competition”

“Do not have sexual intercourse in the next ten minutes, please”

“The golf cart people took her”

“I have what the cool kids call–” [does cartwheel and comes up with finger guns] “–depression”

“I shaved my ankle last night” “Not the rest of your leg?” “No, just my ankle”

“All that makes me feel is emotional distress”

“I never knew hair could have personality until I saw your hair flips”

“Is that orgy kid?”

“Flutes and clarinets, I am sensing a distinct lack of Christmas spirit when we sing jingle bells”

“Why aren’t you wearing a black shirt? This is marching band, we have to look like ninjas”

“Someone’s skipping school, oh no”

“Santa!! Can you follow me on Instagram?” “I want his autograph”

“I play saxophone, I’m not used to reading in the stratosphere”

[smocatoff]

Music Retrospective #1: Metallica

In 1981, Danish drummer Lars Ulrich put out an ad in a magazine known as The Recycler for a jamming buddy. The man who answered that add? James Hetfield. Lars then asked Metal Blade records founder Brian Slagel if he could record a song for their compilation album Metal Massacre. Slagel gave them the okay, and the rest they say is history.

Officially forming in October of that year, Metallica would go on to influence the next 30 years of hard rock and heavy metal. And in this review/retrospective of their staggering discography, I intend to give you my critical thoughts and personal take on one of the finest metal bands of all time, and one of the bands that inspired me to become a musician.

Ground rules before we get going: No live albums and no compilations. So no S&M, no Live Shit, no Garage Inc., you get the idea. First album up!

Kill ‘Em All

Starting out with bassist Ron Mcgoveny and shred master himself Dave Mustaine, Metallica enjoyed a fair amount of success on the club scene, and recorded some demos for Metal Blade Records, but due to drug problems and all around shitty behaviour, James and Lars gave Davey boy a bus ticket and told him to get out of the band, with McGovney leaving soon after. The line up that would grace the debut record Kill ‘Em All would be James, Lars, and new guitarist Kirk Hammet and bassist Cliff Burton. Oh boy, what a debut album it was.

Firing on all cylinders with scorching riffs and solos, this album provides you with some of the best 80s thrash metal that you can find. Kirk Hammett and James Hetfield provide blistering thrash metal guitar work, with some of the heaviest riffs and firey solos you can find. Further, the mastery of Cliff Burton’s bass work is on full display, most notably on the incredible solo known as “Anesthesia (Pulling Teeth)”. My personal favourite song would have to be the 7 minute biblical head banger, which Dave Mustaine would later perform on in its original incarnation on Killing is my Business (We’ll talk about that band another time), “The Four Horseman”. While a great album, it is certainly not a perfect one.

Kirk had been told to emulate Dave’s playing as much as possible during the recording of this album, and while stellar, it would pale in comparison to the unique style Hammett would eventually adopt later on. Moreover, I was never a big fan of lower quality, 80s thrash production style, so I was not the biggest fan of hearing James’ voice caked in reverb and the playing not as tightly knit as on later albums. Plus, the weakest song on the album has to be “Phantom Lord”. I’m sorry, but this is some weak ass, generic thrashy bullshit. Nothing memorable about that song.

Overall, an essential album for metal fans, and Metallica fans especially.

8.5 out of 10

Ride the Lightning

With thrash metal beginning to flourish in the early 80s with the likes of Slayer and Anthrax gaining prominence, as well as bands like Exodus and Sodom starting to form and get noticed, Metallica maintained its foothold atop the mountain and did so with 1984’s “Ride the Lightning”. Becoming more technical and pristine in their playing and production, Metallica evolved into the band we know and love on this album. Incorporating acoustic guitars, more complex arrangements, slower tempos, and providing some of the grandest sounding metal I have ever heard, Ride the Lightining is a treasure. From brooding ballads such as Fade to Black, the magnificent title track, the Hemmingway inspired anthem For Whom the Bell Tolls, this album features Metallica venturing into more morose and serious lyrical content, resulting in some of their best material ever. My personal favourite song, a little gem of a diddy known as “Escape”.

I doubt you could find a song you didn’t like on this album. Highly recommended. With Metallica getting this great, I don’t know how we’re going to top this album. But oh boy, do they ever top this album.

9.5 out of 10

Master of Puppets

In the year Nineteen hundred and eighty six of the common era, the gods bestowed upon us MASTER OF FUCKING PUPPETS. Good god. This. Fucking. Album. Easily Metallica’s most pristinely produced, tightly performed, and expertly written album. Evolving to combine the more progressive, grand arrangements of “Ride the Lightning” with the more straightforward, blistering thrash of Kill ‘Em All. Kirk Hammet and James Hetfield’s guitar work raging through with precision and soul, and Lars ripping out some of the most blistering drum work he has ever done, with Flemming Rassmusen and the band conjuring the most pristine and polished sound they could. There is a reason why this is regularly cited as one of the finest albums in metal history. Not a single bad song can be found on this album. Personal Favourite? Jesus god, throw a dart. But if I had to choose, I have always had a soft spot for the heavy as hell “The Thing That Should Not Be”.

This was the first Metallica album I heard, but even if you shed the nostalgia goggles and look at the album with critical eyes, you still find a towering classic of the genre. Unabashedly recommended, buy it yesterday. 

10 out of 10

...And Justice for All

Metallica has reached an all time high...but tragedy would strike, and take the band to a very personal low, as bassist Cliff Burton would pass away due to a bus accident on September 27th, 1986. With the tragic passing of Cliff Burton, Metallica was short a bassist. Enter Flotsam and Jetsam member Jason Newstead *cut to interview regarding Jason joining Metallica* With Newstead entering the picture, Metallica would then release the follow-up to the staggering Master of Puppets known as And Justice for All. Look, this is great album in its own right, but this album had to follow Master of Puppets. This album could not live up to such hype. But despite personal tragedy and a insurmountable challenge of trying to match, or even top, a bonafide masterpiece, Metallica managed to pump out a highly respectable album.

Continuing down the grander and more progressive road they had been travelling since Ride the Lightning, they also incorporated much darker and more brooding lyrics and guitar tones. This is no more exemplified by the song which resulted in Metallica’s first music video, the number one music video on MTV when it was introduced, and their first American hit on the Billboard Top 100, “One”.

While a very good album, Justice falls flat in certain respects. Firstly, while there aren’t necessarily bad songs on this album, some of the songs like “The Shortest Straw” and “Frayed Ends of Sanity” are a tad on the weaker side. Also, there’s the whole bass thing...so for whatever reason, whether it be as a form of hazing, or because of feelings regarding Cliff,  Lars told the album’s mixer, Steve Thompson, to lower the volume on the bass, and despite questioning this, he was made to do it anyways...Okay...

Really? Are you serious? Just because you’re “hazing the new guy”, or you miss your friend, or are just the self absorbed putz even Metallica fans know you to be, it doesn’t give you the right to pull childish bullshit like purposefully messing with the mix of a widely released album. Now, the other hazing bullshit, I don’t care about that. Pulling a rib on the boys can be light hearted fun, but when personal shit like that bleeds into your work and you leave an album without bass lines to properly fill it out, you officially become a prick. Despite me standing by his side for Napster (I’ll explain that thing another time), this is just juvenile. Luckily, a fan mix called “And Justice for Jason” remedied that, and allowed people to hear what Justice would have sounded like if it were properly mixed. Hell, despite Lars being a primadonna and taking certain things a bit too personally, Newstead has always remained fairly chill about the situation.

Overall, despite the bullshit with the bass mixing and some weak cuts, ...And Justice for All is a solid follow up to the towering classic that is Master of Puppets, and is definitely worthy of your collection. Recommended.

8.5 out of 10

Metallica (The Black Album)

With Newsted established as the band’s new bassist, and with song ideas brewing during their tour for Justice, Metallica hopped back into the studio with brand new producer Bob Rock, and popped out the highest selling record the band would ever produce, the self titled album commonly referred to as The Black Album. Lauded by many music publications, with 4s and 5s being thrown at it like Shibata throws out stiff kicks, everyone seemed to love it. However, does it truly live up to that acclaim? My answer: not quite.

Do not get me wrong, this is one of Metallica’s first five albums, so it’s a great fucking record. Pounding, groove laden metal riffs coupled with more melodic songwriting, it was a clear departure from the progressive, grandiose thrash metal of their previous 3 records, yet it still retained Metallica’s style and seminal songwriting. There are some superb cuts, with headbanging anthems like “Sad but True” and the smash hit “Enter Sandman” as well as my personal favourite hidden gem “Holier than Thou”, but there are some weaker, dare I say filler level cuts such as “Through the Never”.  Yeah, call me when your case of the word vomit ends guys. But overall, this is a stellar record and it is a very important benchmark for Metallica, as well as 90s metal. Moving on!

8 out of 10 

Load

Short haircuts? Check. New sound and experimentation with genres that alienates even the most steadfast of fan? Check. Trying even fucking harder this time for mainstream attention? Check. Yup, Metallica’s gone full fucking 90s on us. Load is for sure a weaker album than the Black Album, and it is full of hard rock snoozers like “Bleeding Me” and “Poor Twisted Me”, but when this album turns it up and actually goes, good god does it go. Hard rocking headbangers like “Ain’t My Bitch” and “Wasting my Hate” as well as more melodic, downpaced rock such as my personal favourite track “The House That Jack Built”, While the music may have mellowed out, Kirk and James’s guitar playing has not and they rip out some killer riffs on this record. Hell, even the really far out there experiments work very well, such as the pop-y sounding “Hero of the Day” and one of the best fucking modern, mainstream country songs ever “Mama Said”. Like, that is a sad statement on the genre when fucking Metallica outdoes the sorry excuses for country acts that were starting to permeate the genre in the 90s, and we are talking dick cheese such as Billy Ray Cyrus, Kenny Chesney, and all that shit.

Metallica’s “Load” is not for everyone, but if you look past and ignore all the 1st degree filler that is on this record, there are some superb cuts that rank among Metallica’s best work in my opinion.

6.5 out of 10

Reload

Metallica went into the studio to record Load and actually had enough material to fill a double album. Metallica decided to delay the release of a majority of this material in order to perfect it, and the result of this was 1997’s “Reload”. Continuing down the more commercial hard rock path they had started travelling, Reload offers, in my opinion, a more consistent and sonically pleasing offering than its predecessor. With alot of the grader experimentation from Load being scrapped, Metallica decided to unleash some pure fucking rock and roll, with James and Kirk throwing down headbanging riffs and Lars producing some memorable drum beats. With powerful hard rock beatdowns like “Fuel” and “Attitude”, as well as slower, more melodic and groove laden songs like “Devil’s Dance”, “Unforgiven 2” and “Where the Wild Things Are”. While this album is better than Load, it does have its share of filler like “Bad Seed” and “Slither”. My personal favourite song though has to be the somber ballad “Low Man’s Lyric”. While Reload is certainly not a return to form for the band, it is a more consistent and better offering than Load and certainly worth a listen.

Metallica wouldn’t release a proper studio album for another six years, releasing other offerings in the meantime, such as the cover album Garage Inc., as well as S&M, a live show Metallica did with a full symphony orchestra.  This period would also prove to be one of the most tumultuous times in the band’s career, which is expertly shown in the documentary “Some Kind of Monster”. During this harrowing period, bassist Jason Newsted left the band, citing creative and personal differences, including Jason’s want to do other projects. There was also...Napster...welp, we had to do it. Let’s talk about Napster 

Okay, so basic rundown of the issue. Metallica records a song entitled “I, Disappear” for the soundtrack of Mission Impossible 2. However, a demo of the song was leaked, and ended up getting radio airplay. The band was able to trace this leak back to a file found on Napster, which led them to also find out that all their shit was on Napster. Lars then filed a lawsuit, and after a whole giant legal battle involving Metallica and a ton of other artists, Napster was forced to file Bankruptcy and was shut down for good. People...did not like this. With people staging mass destructions of Metallica CDs, and many media outlets just roasting the fuck out of the band. It was not a pleasant time for the boys. Here’s the thing though. Amidst all the media hoopla and everyone jumping on the “fuck Metallica” bandwagon...the band was in the right. Firstly, Music is a business like any other, and while these artists do for the most part love what they do, they are in this to make a living out of it, i.e. MAKE MONEY. Piracy of music, while admittedly not a big blow to the artists, is still a blow to their profits. Could you blame someone for trying to take down something that was giving away their product for free without their permission? Secondly, a fucking DEMO was leaked. Meaning the song was in the rough stages of its production. It was like that unfinished version of X-Men Origins, or that trailer of The Mummy without all the sound effects. It doesn’t look good on the band, so you should obviously shut that down and shut it down fast. In summary, Metallica did nothing wrong and took down a program full of stolen shit, and people had a hissy fit about it because “muh free music!” Fuck those morons for not understanding how business works.

After the turbulent tides of this period had begun to subside, with James getting clean after a year of rehab, a new bassist being found in Rob Trujillo, and being honored on MTV Icons, Metallica would drop their next studio album and it would prove to be a return to form...sort of...not really.

7 out of 10

St. Anger

This album is one of the most reviled things in music history. Every fan, every critic pretty much hate this record and think it’s an abomination. But, and you’re probably gonna stop reading for this (you probably stopped after the Napster thing), I don’t think it deserves the shit it gets. Don’t get me wrong, 2003’s “St. Anger” is a flawed record for sure. From the odd production, guitar tones, drum sounds, and some of the most tedious songwriting Metallica has ever engaged in, this album is far from a masterpiece. But, that does not mean this is not devoid of highlights. Despite its repetitious nature, there are some gems on this record, and some great riffage from James and Kirk, plus Lars puts on an incredibly underrated drum performance. My personal favourite song has to be the badassery of a diddy known as “Shoot me Again”. This is not a great record, do not get me wrong. It’s arguably the weakest thing Metallica has ever done. but if you give it a chance, there are some solid gems on this record. With Metallica reformed, they would hold off another 5 years on a new record, but we did not expect the course correction that came.

6 out of 10

Death Magnetic

Welcome back, Metallica! With the band parting ways from Elektra records, Metallica was in need of a record label for their new album. Enter the legend known as Rick Rubin. Signing with Warner Brothers and hiring on Rubin as a producer (I use that term liberally by the way because Rubin doesn’t do much producing these days and leaves it up to his underlings), Metallica popped out the staggering comeback known as Death Magnetic. Released in 2008, this album proved to be Metallica’s best record since the Black Album, nixing the repetitive nature of St. Anger and returning to the more grandiose, progressive and technical thrash metal style that made them the legends they are. The guitar work on this album is superb, with James and Kirk laying down some excellent riffs and incredible guitar harmonies. This also proved to be a return to form for Lars Ulrich, laying down some of the most precise drum work he has ever done. My personal favourite song would have to be the insanely heavy instrumental, something that Metallica hasn’t done since Justice, the song known as “Suicide and Redemption”, which like “Call of Chuthlu” and “Orion” before it, served to show off the technical side of their bass player, and Rob Trujillo lays down some killer bass licks in this song. 

While this is arguably their best songwriting in many years, the production leaves a little to be desired, and that’s putting it nicely. The major culprit in all of this? Those fucking guitar tones. Like, what the fuck did you do? It sounds like a two chainsaws grinding against each other, and it splits your fucking ears. Like, listen to that album with good headphones and at a fairly high volume, it’s painful. But, see, here’s the thing. Slayer (A band we will be talking about in the near future), also had Rubin and his crew as producers for World Painted Blood, and it worked for Slayer because that suits their sound. This does not suit Metallica, and it fucking kills an otherwise excellent record. Despite the pitfalls in the production, Metallica’s “Death Magnetic” is a fantastic return to form, and will kick your ass. Buy this record.

With Metallica back on the rise, what new projects would await them? *Listens to Lulu*...DONE!

7.5 out of 10

Lulu

This album...is SHIIIIT. 2011’s collaboration with, of all fucking people, Lou Reed entitled “Lulu” is a failed experiment. Combining the styles of two artists, namely, the experimental, 60s and 70s rock music of someone like Lou Reed and the thrash metal headbanging of Metallica, they did not fit together at all. And listen here folks, collaborations between odd pairings of artists can work. Korn’s team up with various dubstep artists on The Path to Totality album generally was a solid effort by that band; David Bowie, being the musical chameleon he is, fit like a glove when Nine Inch Nails and him worked on remixing “I’m Afraid of Americans”; when Weezer and Lil Wayne teamed up to do “Can’t Stop Partying”...ok, point taken. But still, odd pairings in music can work. But this just didn’t. From the sloppy songwriting put forward by Metallica, to Lou Reed’s rambling street preacher vocal style which only works on certain songs, this album sounds like Lou Reed decided to just rant over a bunch of b-sides Metallica had left over and had no idea what to do with. I suppose if I had to pick a highlight from this album, it would have to be the 2nd last song “Dragon”, a heavy offering that actually manages to marry the styles of these bands quite effectively. But overall, just avoid this record, outside of hearing a couple songs. It’s not for Lou Reed fans, it’s not for Metallica fans, i’ts for no one. Say it with me homeboys, MOVING ON!

3 out of 10

Hardwired to Self Destruct

With the dogshit that is Lulu behind them, Metallica embarked on a few years of touring, playing pretty much nothing but old shit, playing for the first time with the big four, as well as doing fan requested setlists, it was time to head back into the studio and make some kick ass music. The result of this was last year’s Hardwired to Self Destruct. This album is both stronger and weaker than Death Magnetic. It is stronger in that it is much more tightly produced, with those chainsaw guitars being replaced with a more crisp sounding tone more in line with their previous output. With the band getting up there in age, they however show no signs of slowing down, with James’ voice not showing an instance of faltering since blowing it out all those years ago. Further, the guitar work on this album is superb, and Lars lays down some tight and precise drumming. However, this album isn’t the tightest in terms of songwriting, and begins to falter around the end of disc one and by disc two they let out some grade A filler like “Man-Unkind”. Yeah, this song sounds like they’re trying to hearken back to the days of Load with this one, and those days are gone and should stay gone. But this album is not devoid of highlights, with my personal favourite track being the cybernetic dystopian fury of the closing song “Spit Out The Bone”. Hell, the first disc on this album fucking slays, with tracks like “Moth Into Flame” and the grandiose, almost Maiden-esque “Atlas Rise.” Overall, a solid album full of really heavy songs, but the band’s age is showing, and the idea well is starting to run dry. It might be time to hang it up. But we’ll see.

7 out of 10

Well, I thank you for reading this tirade about one of my favourite bands of all time, the incomparable Metallica. Hope you have a good day.

[olwog]

Today we learn that there is always the potential for a surprise, especially through airport security and, they really do call out for a doctor when someone is ill on a plane.

Getting to Stansted Airport, unless you live in London, is a real pain. I’m lucky and just been visiting my grandkids in South London so my route is very nearly direct. It’s easy to be sucked into cheap tickets to anywhere but when you add in the cost of getting to the airport then, quite often, it doesn’t add up.

I’ve crossed London and now at London Liverpool Street Station and lucky enough to arrive just as the train for Stansted opens its doors for passengers, how good is that?

    The last time I did this journey it was dark so nothing really to see; however, today is sunny and being able to see the back streets of North London is a bit of a treat. It’s a 40-minute journey direct to the airport and the transport links actually at the airport are great but getting there from anywhere in the North is awful.

There’s a lot of work happening at Stansted and various areas are cordoned off making it even more crowded than half-term-break would normally have it. In spite of Ryanair’s ludicrous changes to their hand-luggage policy with strange sizes to catch you out, I’ve ‘not yet’ had an issue getting my marginally larger rucksack through. It’s five centimetres (about a couple of inches) too long due to the backplate but the other dimensions are fine when wrapped tightly using the straps.

Security 

I’m not geared up for what happens in Security though. The queues are huge and we’re organised into zigging and zagging lines. There are four of them and I usually join the one that’s got more than its fair share of hold-ups and this time I do it again but there is a twist – I’m the hold-up. The bag goes into the scanning machine and appears at the other side then jerks to a halt at the dividing fork, you know the one, to the right goes all the ‘good’ baggage and to the left goes the ‘dodgy’ bags that need to be further investigated. I always hold my breath at this point due to an experience a couple of trips ago when I had an issue with an electric lead that was thought to be a bomb. This time should be fine though as I have all of the electrical stuff in a bag that has already been checked and I have it in my hands.  The system jerks and it shoots up the bad-boy-conveyor, my heart sinks. 

“You have some scissors in your rucksack”, it’s the lady that helped me load the different trays, the laptop on one, phone etc on another, rucksack on another and the liquids on yet another. I only have three liquids, a tube of toothpaste, some aftershave, and sunscreen but she made me put it on a tray of its own. Pea on-a-drum is a very apt description but all of that had come through successfully and was now back in my hands or at least in front of me. The rucksack; however, was not. I’m certain that there are no scissors in that bag, I don’t challenge the lady though ‘cos that’s not going to change her opinion until it’s been properly searched and approved for onward travel. Unlike last time I have lots of time so the only stress is related to the mystery of the scissors. SHe beckons me across and points at the shadow that she clearly thinks is a pair of scissors, it doesn’t look like scissors, it’s more like a flat piece of metal; in fact the only thing that gives the game away is a label that the scanner has added with a helpful little arrow pointing at the shadow “Scissors” proclaimed the label. 

“I do have a metal compass in there”, I say in the hope of getting her sympathy and offering an excuse.

“Yes”, she responds, “That’s this one here”, and she points at another shadow. My mind is racing and I decide to hold my piece in case it looks like I’m guilty and she hasn’t removed all my stuff from the bag yet but I’m wondering what it could be, I know it’s not scissors so I’ll be exonerated but what might it be and hopefully it’s not going to be worse.

I offer a brief training course on how to open a rucksack at the top and also down the side so that she can access as much as possible without having to remove everything. That’s a pipe-dream and everything comes out. Socks, knickers, shorts, pully, thermal vest (it can get chilly in the mountains), pair of Sketchers (they’re comfortable and light) and Cyril – my stick. No scissors though.

“We’ll put it back through empty”, she says. This lady is from the Mrs May school of tenacity but having emptied the thing I’m happy to be proved right.

Off it goes into the scanner then comes to the ‘good-boy’ / ‘not-so-good-boy’ fork, hesitates and veers to the left. I’m still on the ‘naughty’ list. I’m thinking about spitting on the backs of my hands and rubbing my eyes. If I do it and make my bottom lip quiver a bit might I get some sympathy? …no!

She’s asking if the lining is zipped into the bag if not she’s going to have to cut it. Now I’m feeling this has gone way too far but the evidence is stacked against me even though I know that there’s nothing there. 

“It’s not a part of the rucksack frame? There’s an upward inflexion to indicate that this is a question not a statement of fact.

“No”, she says, a little too quickly and then the ultimate irony, she asks her colleague for some scissors.

In the meantime I’m digging around in the rucksack looking for a zip – bingo, I find one and unzip the lining and she reaches inside and like a magician producing a rabbit from a hat removes her hand and in it …a pair of scissors.

Now if this had been drugs and the airport any city in Malaysia or the Philippines then I would have been in deep shit. I worked in Malaysia on several occasions and one particular visit involved sleeping in a hotel room that could be booked for all but one night in the month. The night it couldn’t be booked was for the activities that took place in the local prison and from that particular room, the activities could be both witnessed and photographed. It was the morning that the drug mules would face the gallows and this one room gave a full view of the proceedings over the prison wall. I think of this and shudder. OK, I’m only embarrassed and to this day have no idea how the scissors got in there. In fairness to the security lady, she is impeccably polite and merely binned them in a receptacle labelled sharps. I apologised profusely and feel such a dick but I am a little more circumspect when she confiscates my stick. ‘Cyril’ had been with me all over the Moors, Pennines and many places on the Continent but today he is going and I accept it with good grace but a moist eye that doesn’t need the fake evidence of spit on the back of the hand. I wave and he waves back from the bin into which he’s been unceremoniously tossed … ah well, c’est la vie … I’ll get another one from Santander but I wouldn’t want him to know that.

Stansted to Santander

The flight itself is ‘interesting’. Forty minutes in and I am nodding a bit when there is a noise behind me and a stampede of air stewards down the aisle.

There is a call for a doctor onboard and when this draws a blank, anyone with medical knowledge, still no-one comes forward, so they ask for taxi drivers and hairdressers and when they can’t help they plead for anyone that has read a women’s magazine health page. Still no-one so the pilot puts the plane into a steep dive with a view to landing on a pontoon in the Bay of Biscay so the unfortunate patient can be picked up with a Yorkshire Air Ambulance helicopter (alternatively, he might have been taking us to France) .  A male nurse eventually draws the short straw and stuffs something in the poor victim’s mouth! This brings them round enough for us to finish the flight to Santander. I’m not sure it is anything sweet but they don’t go unconscious again!

Santander

At the airport, there is no blue-light activity so I assume that a reasonable recovery has been made and within minutes we start the zigzagging all over again but this time it is to one of the ‘two’ booths that are open to process 200+ travellers through passport control. Ah well, I’ve known it worse – then they close one and it is worse.

I’d already read that the airport bus leaves from immediately outside the terminal and within a few minutes there it is. I spend the waiting time looking up hotels on Tripadvisor and find one 200 metres from the City Centre that’s officially two stars and gets four and a half stars from the punters. I am aware that this can be bullshit but if you cross check this with registered hotels.Com users it’s usually OK so I book it for £26 – if it’s crap then I’ll walk away – it isn’t.

Nice place with a lovely lady on reception and clean. It’s also got a double bed, I’m delighted.

There’s a bar next door and the guy clearly feels that I’m underfed. I buy a beer and it normally comes with some kind of tapas and this is the case and it keeps coming. I was thinking of a bit of time downtime but change my mind and only three small beers later I’m full of prawns in mayo on a fresh baguette still warm (not the prawns), tuna on a different kind of ciabatta and a patè exquisitely presented with salad. Total cost €7 – you can’t make this up.

  The morning is taken with some exploration in the city. The weather is fantastic and meandering around the art and wonderful buildings is a pleasure. I’m intrigued by the actions of some French girls who are giggling near some statues of full size nude men and women, They’re gathered around the gentleman and initially holding hands with him but you can see by the shine where hands eventually strayed, it would seem that boys and girls are the same the world over.

In the little time it takes me to walk across to the harbour the scene is repeated with another two groups!

    San Vicente de la Barquera

The coach, like all continental transport, is designed around the customer and this is no exception. Seats with plenty of space between them, soft and deep cushioning, air-conditioning and always on time. If I were to be picky I would say that the number 11 bus should have been at the number 11 platform but they chose 33 so I have a bit of rush when I eventually realise that platform 11 is likely to remain empty.

The journey time is a little over an hour and through beautiful countryside so our arrival is a mix of delight that we’re here and a little disappointment that we’re not travelling through beautiful field and mountains.

I go immediately to the pensión that I’ve booked and there’s a sign that asks me to go to a cafe to register. I’m slightly wobbled but do as instructed and meet Carlos who’s very much larger than life. He takes me back to the hostel and shows me the room for approval which I like. It’s a twin bedded room and the beds are very much ample so I’m very happy. There’s also heating as well as air-conditioning the latter of which, I don’t think I’ll need this week.

  St Vicente de la Barquera is a small town with a magnificent bridge and a castle. They’re particularly fond of planting flower beds and lining the roads with trees. I wander around and find a restaurant come bar opposite the main square and Plaza Mayor de Fuero. All Spanish Towns have a Plaza Mayor but this one seems to celebrate the law or some kind of charter. The sun is still shining so I have a beer and do some people watching, it’s at these times that I both don’t miss someone to share it with and, ironically, really do miss someone to share it with.

Enjoy the snaps…G..x

Please feel free to share or comment, I love comments.

Return to Santander and San Vicente de la Barquera Today we learn that there is always the potential for a surprise, especially through airport security and, they really do call out for a doctor when someone is ill on a plane.