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onbearfeet · 9 months ago

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Episode 5

*internal screaming*

*external whimpering*

*werewolf being squished*

Hey, guys, guess what! It's possible to tense all your muscles with anxiety in such a way as to fuck up at least half your back!

...yeah, I'm lying down now.

So, uh, hearing the name "Randall" was a whole-ass flashback, and not in the good way. I'd forgotten Randall Spector existed, but as a kid I read the '90s run where he was introduced and hooooooo boy. Weird to be asked to sympathize with a child version of, uh, that dude. Good call not nicknaming him Randy this time; I don't think Steven would have been able to keep a straight face.

Yes. Yes, I am avoiding talking about the upsetting thing. I will talk about it now because I commit to the bit, apparently even at the cost of mild self-harm, and if that isn't the story of my life ...

So. Um. Two things about my brother that caused this episode to poke me REAL HARD in the trauma. Thing one: DID is often set off by childhood abuse, as it was with Marc et al. In my brother's case, it was his biological parents beating the shit out of him, usually with an electrical cord, but sometimes with, yes, a belt. And like with Marc/Steven, the trigger to those beatings was usually an extremely normal child behavior like crying or making a mess. I was not present for these beatings; I wasn't born yet. But I saw the results, including some marks on my brother's arms and the fact that he was the largest man in just about any room and he still flinched when someone used a sharp voice.

Thing two: receiving the shittiest mental healthcare imaginable made my brother's life indescribably worse! In the United States, the largest single source of mental healthcare is the prison system (or rather systems--federalism). After Reagan shut down most institutional mental-health facilities (not that I am defending those--nightmare for another day), the US started shoving as many mentally ill people as it could into the carceral system, including my brother. And because the pay is shit and the working conditions are appalling, it is not a preferred working environment for therapists, so there's a lot of turnover. My brother got a new therapist every six months or so, and guess what the first step in his treatment was every time? Yeah, it was a case history. Apparently nobody shared notes, ever, so he had to relive his traumas over and over again every six months. For fifteen years. Until he died. That is, no shit, a major part of how Child Me came to understand the Christian concept of hell: as being forced to re-experience the worst things that ever happened to you, over and over, forever, possibly while someone pretends to "help" you but actually hurts you worse.

This episode was distressing to me.

I hung on by my fingernails because at least Steven and Marc are finally getting to understand one another a bit, and Steven isn't treating Marc like a monster 100% of the time anymore. Good job, boys. Bonus points for Steven pointing out that Khonshu had been manipulating Marc from the beginning, and for Steven getting to kick a little ass. Here's hoping Marc has to deal with some of his self-hatred in the next episode.

This was not a great episode to watch at the end of an otherwise emotionally taxing day (ironically, therapy kicked my ass). But I'm gonna finish. I'm pretty sure the guitar music at the end was connected to Jake, and after all this, I want to hear Oscar Isaac speak Spanish.

Werewolf requests an intermission, though. He's concerned I'll pull something important if I don't take better care of myself.

Oh, and he has a name now! Russell. Thanks to @abirdie for suggesting it.

Kat watches Moon Knight

Okay, so with the encouragement of several people on here and the emotional support of my roommate, I have finally (in February 2024) started watching Moon Knight, a show whose basic concept scares the shit out of me.

Context: I had an adopted older brother with DID. Note that I said "had". That's past tense because life treated him so appallingly poorly that he died (horribly, in prison) when I was 19. Part of that abuse was enabled by pop-culture depictions of DID in the 1980s and 90s that convinced everyone who knew about his condition (including the court system) that he was a walking time bomb.

One of my earliest memories is of my brother as a young adult, playing Super Mario Bros with my toddler self. Another is of him patiently teaching me how to make friends with a large dog. I never met any of his alters, afaik; I was small and cute and safe for him to be himself with, so he probably didn't need them around me. He was a profoundly gentle man when he was allowed, and it hurt like hell to see him turned into a monster in movies and on TV. I've turned off a lot of "psychological thrillers" in sorrow and disgust.

Ironically, I loved Moon Knight comics as a kid in the 90s, BEFORE he was retconned to have DID circa the mid-2000s. Because those comics came out right after my brother died in 2002 and leaned HARD into making people with DID seem like violently unstable monsters (for reference, see the cover of Moon Knight: God and Country), I stopped reading them around 2008, when I couldn't take being poked in the trauma by a comfort character anymore.

But I do love Werewolf By Night, and there's been a lot of good fic mashing Jack up with Moon Knight without dehumanizing anyone, and several people have encouraged me to try the show. So this post will be a place for my thoughts as I try to work my way through with my Essential Editions in one hand and my memories of my brother in the other. I'll add to it as I watch.

If this entertains the Moon Knight fandom or provides useful fic reference, so be it. Just don't be jerks on my post.

Also, anyone who chooses to be shitty about my brother will be eaten by bears. I don't make the rules.

Episode 1

Okay, we open with Steven as our POV character, and he's...convinced he's a sleepwalker. All right, not terrible. Steven is now a bumbling nerd, which is probably an improvement; good luck making a billionaire playboy sympathetic in the 2020s. Jake would be the logical everyman POV from the comics, but I understand from fic that he's got a different role now. I'm confused about the accent, but it's only episode 1, and Steven clearly doesn't yet know who Khonshu is, or that Marc exists, so obviously there's a ways to go here. (Is Marc ... undercover inside Steven? Ugh, this is a trope I have seen and do not like.)

Did Marc kill Steven's fish? Did Khonshu kill Steven's fish? I'm baffled by the fish. Which is a nice break from the larger anxiety. I'm gonna try to worry more about the fish.

The bits with Steven losing time and finding himself in odd situations were distressingly close to the old tropes, but both of those happened to my brother, so I'm not going to bitch about them quite yet. I want to be as fair as I can.

Oh, hey, I recognize Harrow from the comics. What up, dude. How's the cult biz treating you?

The end of the episode, with the jackal thing chasing Steven into the bathroom, came RIGHT up to the line for me. I realized that what I was most afraid of was that the story would assign "good" and "bad" labels to the alters--make Steven the sweet, innocent one and Marc (or maybe Jake, I guess) the monstrous killer. The early flashes of Steven covered in blood didn't really help allay that anxiety. And now Marc is demanding that Steven let him have control in a pretty threatening manner. But so far, it seems like the contrast between Marc and Steven is one of competence--Marc is better at fighting and Steven is better at ... panicking? Unclear. At least Oscar Isaac is playing the protagonist, so his character(s) might remain sympathetic. Nobody has been monsterized quite yet.

I finished the episode with every muscle in my body locked up, waiting for the emotional punch in the face. But I did finish it, and I think I'm gonna try episode two.

#kat watches moon knight #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #i guess I'm processing trauma again #hello trauma my old friend #only you can prevent cgi capes #at least the boys finally hugged #i just reread this and you should know the werewolf i am squishing is a plushie #no breathing werewolves were squished #russell the emotional support werewolf #i don't know why the boys weren’t scared of Taweret #honestly if a hippo spoke to me I'd probably shit myself and die #do they not know what hippos are actually like

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little-mad · 3 years ago

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Downsides of Thievery Pt. 3

~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

Going through the portal from one dimension to another felt as simple as walking through a door. There was no flash of light, no weird tingly sensation all over Gavin’s body, no “welcome to a new dimension” announcement; Gavin could almost believe he was still back home...were it not for the fact that every single thing around him was mega sized.

Trees as tall as skyscrapers loomed overhead, and although he was looking down on them from Rael’s hip height, Gavin could still tell that even the wildflowers sticking out of the ground would be taller than him. He swore he even saw a chipmunk the size of a car scurrying up the side of a tree.

Suddenly, Gavin felt almost glad he was secured inside a cage. As much as he hated being confined, right now he didn’t feel like he could handle being out in the open, not with a bunch of big ass woodland creatures roaming about. Being attached to a big ass dude was bad enough.

Though he couldn’t see it from his current position, Gavin figured the portal they’d come through must have gone away, judging by the abrupt disappearance of the soft blue glow that the portal had been giving off a moment ago. “I’m officially closed off from the rest of humanity,” Gavin’s brain helpfully reminded him.

Glancing upward, Gavin caught Rael throwing him a brief look as if to ensure his captive was still there. The teal eyes examined him for only a moment before they returned to looking forward.

Gavin sighed. As intimidating as Rael was, he knew he couldn’t avoid talking to the guy forever. For one, he needed to ask his captor where exactly he was being taken, because in the middle of the woods hadn’t been what he’d been expecting. Gavin was admittedly not all that knowledgeable about alteon customs, but he was pretty sure they mostly lived in cities and towns.

Before Gavin even got the chance to mentally prepare himself for the prospect of addressing the alteon, he was bucked forward by the movement of the giant leg behind him.

Once again lying at the bottom of the cage, Gavin groaned. He was really beginning to sympathize with hamsters, lizards, and other handheld pets. Getting tossed around in a cage really sucked. Although, he figured most pets would be handled more carefully by their owners than Rael was currently handling him.

Every other step the aleton took jarred Gavin’s cage, meaning there was zero point in trying to stand up because he’d just be thrown to the floor again in an instant. Instead, he opted for sitting in the back with his arms wrapped around the iron bars for stability. It was still an unpleasant experience, but at least this way he could spare himself a few extra aches and pains.

About five minutes passed by and Rael continued to make his way silently through the forest. He clearly had no intention of striking up a conversation, which meant the task fell on Gavin. “Just picture him in his underwear,” he thought to himself, but then quickly realized that trick only worked on normal sized people. Picturing Rael in his underwear would only make Gavin feel both afraid and uncomfortable. “Okay…just imagine he’s not gigantic then.”

Gavin tilted his head back so he was looking up towards Rael’s face, however from the angle he was at, he could only really see the underside of the man’s jaw. “Yeeeah, kind of hard to imagine he’s not huge when I have to almost break my neck just to see his face.” After taking a deep, steadying breath, Gavin opened his mouth to speak.

Were Rael someone well learned in the magical arts, he could have easily teleported both himself and his human charge to the palace. However, as things were, he had no choice but to travel on foot through the woods that surrounded the city of Ostrad.

Rael didn’t necessarily mind a little hiking, but having to walk back to the city added on about an extra hour to the assignment he never wanted in the first place. He blew out an inaudible sigh, ignoring the way the cage hooked onto his belt repeatedly bumped against his thigh as he walked. At least the human had kept quiet so far, as long as it remained that way--

“Hey, uh--Rael?” The unexpected sound of the human’s voice nearly caused Rael to stop in his tracks. He paused for a moment but quickly recovered and continued making his way forward.

Rael flicked his eyes downwards for just a moment and saw that the human was looking up at him expectantly. Half because he didn’t want to end up running into anything, and half because he didn’t want to give the human the satisfaction of getting his attention, Rael quickly went back to looking forward. “What is it?” he responded reluctantly, making no effort to hide his irritation.

“Well--um, I was just wondering where we��re headed,” said the human nervously. Rael had been a little surprised when he found out that humans didn’t have high, squeaky little voices that fit their size. Instead, their voices were essentially normal, though much quieter than that of an alteon. This was something Rael was grateful for. While it would have been briefly amusing if the humans squeaked like mice, Rael had no doubt he would quickly tire of it.

“I’m delivering you to the Emperor at the palace,” Rael stated tersely. Surely the human could have deduced that on his own.

There was a pause, and Rael hoped that would be the end of the discussion, but evidently the human had other plans. “Right but uh--why didn’t we just...portal straight there?” he asked.

Rael rolled his eyes. He didn’t know whether it was all humans or just this one in particular, but there was certainly an air of obliviousness emanating from Gavin Stone. “The portal needs to be distant enough from civilization in the event intruders manage to slip through somehow,” Rael explained slowly, as though he were speaking to a child.

Honestly, the precaution of keeping portals isolated seemed as though it was more for the sake of protecting the humans that might come through than any alteons. Prior to departing for this assignment, Rael had been educated in all the ways humans could potentially bring harm to alteons. The list was quite short, and mostly involved large weapons of mass destruction, which were apparently not widely available in the human realm.

A thoughtful hum came from the caged human. “I guess that makes sense, though I can’t imagine any human intentionally trying to come here,” he commented. He seemed to be gaining some confidence in his speech and no longer stumbled over his words, much to Rael’s annoyance. The last thing he needed was for his captive to start getting talkative.

“Believe me, we don’t want humans here either,” Rael retorted. Perhaps he was speaking from his own opinion more so than that of the general population of his dimension, but he wasn’t about to tell Gavin Stone that.

Gavin narrowed his eyes at Rael’s comment. If he didn’t know any better, he might say that his captor wasn’t all too fond of humans. He had to wonder what the alteon’s past experience with humans had been. Was Gavin the first he’d met? Had he really made that bad of a first impression? “Oh yeah, I sprinted away from him full speed,” Gavin reminded himself.

People not liking him was not an unfamiliar thing for Gavin. Admittedly, he maybe didn’t have the best verbal filter, and had the unfortunate tendency to blurt out whatever popped into his head. He had been fired from his first job at a movie theater for accidentally calling his manager a “lazy dickwad” within said manager’s earshot. He had gotten sent to the principal’s office in third grade for letting it slip to another kid that Santa wasn’t real. And Gavin knew it was only a matter of time before he said something to Rael that really pissed off the giant.

If Gavin were smart, he would just keep his mouth shut. It was obviously what Rael would have preferred. The only problem was, Gavin wasn’t smart. Smart people became doctors, settled down with a sweet spouse, and moved into a fancy house in the suburbs. Smart people did not become thieves who stole from literal giants.

“So uh--are you like the Emperor’s delivery guy then?” Gavin asked. He didn’t really know where he was hoping the conversation would go or what he hoped to accomplish, but running his mouth felt familiar. If he stayed quiet he’d just end up wallowing in his own anxiety and fear.

Rael shot Gavin a quick, sharp look. “I am a member of the Imperial Guard, not a ‘delivery guy’,” he snipped, clearly not fond of Gavin’s insinuation.

Gavin didn’t really know what being in the “Imperial Guard” entailed, though he supposed it had a fancy enough name. Honestly, it kind of sounded like something out of Star Wars, though he wasn’t going to mention that to Rael considering the guy probably didn’t even know what a movie was.

“So did they specially choose--” Gavin’s sentence was interrupted midway through by an annoyed huff from Rael.

“There is no need for us to converse. So unless you have something crucial to say, I recommend you keep quiet,” the alteon stated coldly.

Despite Rael’s less than friendly tone, and the fact that it was a colossus of a man saying it, Gavin did not intend on keeping quiet. A familiar desire to be contrary was rising up in him. His mom had always called it his “urge to be a complete pain in the ass.”

Gavin didn’t necessarily want to intentionally piss off his captor, he didn’t want to make an enemy of the alteon. That would be stupid even for him. However, Gavin wasn’t about to roll over and behave like a good little boy. He was a criminal, following the rules was basically the antithesis of who he was. No, Gavin was going to talk to Rael whether the elf looking son of a bitch liked it or not.

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #my writing #oc: Gavin Stone #oc: Rael

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vallikesgivinghugs · 3 years ago

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I just watched Fate the Winx Saga and here are my maybe unpopular opinions as a Winx Club animated series fan.

First off, yes I know I'm late to this party. I honestly put this show off because I was really sad about what they did to the characters I know and love.

Second, I grew up with Winx Club, it was my show, my life. The pretend game I played with my friends in middle school and I was/am a Flora fan. She was my favourite and honestly a role model for young me who was a shy and soft-spoken gal with a love for nature.

So on with the maybe unpopular opinions under the cut!

The show itself is not bad at all honestly. It has it's flaws for sure but hey that's Netflix for ya. The acting was a little weird at times but overall I personally think the actors and actresses did a good job with what they were given. And most of the special effects were honestly pretty impressive to look at! But it wasn't the Winx, at least not to me.

What made Winx so special to me was the aesthetic of it all. The fact that the world(s) fit together so well and that it was not earth, like at all. No cars, no “real” technology, in the Winx universe you travel by magic or spaceship! Technology? Yeah no ask a tech fairy or a tech specialist because we don’t know shit about that and even then that shit is magic! Also transformations! We just want pretty fairy girls in shimmering costumes with a cool pair of wings of their back!

Fated the Winx Saga is so unmagical that it honestly loses a lot of it’s allure and does a disservice to the original show. I don’t mind that it’s dark and gory, it honestly makes sense, most teen/young adult fiction is in this day and age but this show could’ve been a great show on it own without the Winx club elements thrown in! The only thing that relates the two shows is the names of the characters/places and appearance of said characters(kinda) but otherwise it’s a completely different show with different characters to me.

Terra was a nice character, as a bigger girl myself who has anxiety and a hard time understanding social cues at times I saw a lot of myself in Terra but she also replaced Flora who was near and dear to my heart and honestly that hurt. It this had been a standalone show Terra would’ve been my favourite character but since she replaced something dear to me (who’s name was put in as a throwaway line might I add) made it so I couldn’t fully appreciate her for who/what she was.

Same for the other characters, Bloom who was always a great leader was reduced to a mess that made it hard for me to sympathize with her choices.

Aisha was overall treated/written badly (we all know it’s true). She was basically just a plot device for the other characters to get exposition!

Stella who yes in the animated series wasn’t always nice just took a turn for the worst and her whole thing with Sky was just annoying, boring and overall unnecessary. It was honestly triggering for me to deal with all that toxicity and I had to skip most of their scenes.

Musa, while I’m glad they kept her love for music and I understand why magic music powers could be hard to write in (another point into this could’ve been a great show on it’s own) giving her empath powers was odd seeing as how animated Musa was never really an empath. (don’t come for me Musa stans she always was a headstrong gal and honestly did some things we all know she wouldn’t have done if she was an empath. She hurt Riven so many times it’s not even funny even if her did the same to her it’s honestly just not great.)

The boys, oh the boys. Sky and Riven. Besties? No, I’m sorry you must’ve gotten hardass, Riven confused with jock himbo Brandon (Sky’s actual bff!). Lowkey Riven’s protrayal of a morally (dark) grey character was okay but overall not great. Yes early seasons Riven in the animated series was not a great guy but he was never evil. He always had strong values even if he got tempted by power because of his inferiority complex.

Sky on the other hand was pretty spot on if not for the thing with Stella and the relationship with Riven. He was a lot more aggressive than his animated counterpart but honestly just as stubborn in his views and ready to help his friends. (highkey miss the long hair tho, man those lucious locks were everything back in the day)

TLRD: Fated the Winx Saga would have been just as good and maybe even better if it was a stand alone show instead of an dark and gory YA Winx Club AU fic. (please be nice)

#winx club #fated the winx saga #rant

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allthefilmsiveseenforfree · 4 years ago

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The Four Seasons

The Four Seasons is one of my mom’s favorite movies, and I’ve definitely seen bits and pieces of it before, but have never sat down to watch the whole thing. It’s a 1981 film starring Alan Alda and Carol Burnett that concerns three wealthy married couples who take vacations in spring, summer, fall, and winter, and the trials and tribulations that their lives (and as a result their friendships) go through. Now that I’m a wise, learned married woman myself, does this film impart lessons about marriage that I can resonate with 40 years later? Well...

I will say yes but with a big ol’ asterisk next to it. Some lessons about marriage are universal. And some are based on pressures and expectations that just really, really make me glad I’m not straight. Let’s dive in.

Some thoughts:

Alan Alda wrote, directed, and starred in this! What a triple threat.

I do love that the men are all cooking and the women are in the living room talking about their work. Coming from a family that observes the strictest of gender roles at family gatherings, this is the most welcome and refreshing thing I’ve ever seen.

I have always wanted to make those cellophane noodles, and I think it’s because I saw them in this movie when I was a kid! It’s always nice to discover your roots with things like that.

Why would you jump in the lake WITH the bread? Save the bread, man!

The primary conflict starts early - one of the friends, Nick (Len Cariou), wants to leave his wife, Anne (Sandy Dennis), and I can appreciate this so much more now that I’m married. I understand what it would mean to be married to someone for 21 years and to then say “I can’t do this anymore.” I understand Jack’s (Alda’s) frustration with Nick, but I also sympathize with him - no one should feel trapped in a marriage that doesn’t make them happy. I understand most of all Kate’s (Carol Burnett’s) reaction to the news: turning to her husband and simply saying, “Hold me.”

I love Ginny (Bess Armstrong) and her being impressed by Nick for being an estate planner. She is so in awe over him because she “never met anyone who knows so much about actuarial tables!”

Why would you ever want to vacation with 6 people on a sailboat? There isn’t even enough room for 2 people, let alone 6! And only one person knows how to sail? This is a dramedy but it could just as easily have been a straight up horror movie.

And what kind of sociopath would or could have sex - repeatedly - in said sailboat where the other two couples can hear them all night? Seriously, this feels like a weird fetish vacation or something, like something out of Hostel.

I cannot believe they crammed 4 people in the back of that Mercedes and made poor Ginny sit on Nick’s lap the whole way. Do none of these people believe in adequate accommodations???

This movie passes the Bechdel test handily, because this group of female friends really cares for and looks out for each other. They talk about their relationships, sure, but they also talk about their emotional upheavals and the state of their friendship. I’m especially pleased to see this kind of female friendship and support from a movie that was written and directed by a man. It’s sad but true that this sort of thing is real damn rare.

Nick denying his daughter’s feelings and trying to coax her into smiling is so cringey I want to die.

God I feel so bad for Lisa,Nick and Anne’s daughter (played by Alan Alda’s actual daughter, Beatrice Alda!). She’s clearly so depressed and no one will offer her the dignity of just listening to her or just being with her.

I’m also getting some pretty strong ladygay vibes from Jack and Kate’s daughter Beth (played by Alan Alda’s other daughter, Elizabeth Alda). Nothing comes of it, but there are vibes, man.

I absolutely adore Carol Burnett, and when she reaches her breaking point and finally goes off on Alan Alda, it’s incredible. She’s such a gifted physical comedian but at the core of it, she is so fantastic at digging into the emotions behind the physicality - the anger, the frustration, every ugly, twisted thing every woman is shamed for letting show, she uses it. “When I’m perfect, I cease to exist!” If that doesn’t cut to the heart of every Type A woman I’ve ever met when they feel overshadowed and overlooked by men, I don’t know what does.

The women in this film are so terrified of becoming obsolete to their husbands, in large part because Nick left Anne, and while obviously that’s a real thing that a lot of couples go through, it just feels so completely foreign to me to even consider as a woman married to another woman. Like, what if your whole deal from the time you got married is that you would grow and change together and not feel like it’s inevitable that you would trade each other in for younger models? How about that, guys? Do you want to try that instead?

Why does anyone go skiing? It looks like literally the least fun activity in the world. You’re cold, you’re wet, you keep falling down, and if you’re not careful you’ll break like every bone in your body.

Oh man this turtleneck and glasses guy is really murdering “Strangers in the Night” on the saxophone. I have never wanted to go to a roadhouse more than one where that guy is the house musician.

I also think it’s a beautiful thing that in this movie, Jack is the one who wants everyone to open up about their emotions, who expresses feelings, who wants his friends to talk about everything. That is such a rare gift, to see a man, arguably the leader of his friend group, take that role in his relationships.

Ginny is given a lot of humanity and is allowed to be more than just “the other woman,” and ultimately her emotional outburst as well as Jack’s is the emotional catharsis that is needed in any relationship when tensions build until they break.

Did I Cry? No, but I did feel moved by the emotional honesty at work here. It’s really a movie that’s a love letter to friendships and to romantic relationships in equal measure, and that’s not something you see every day.

I’m so impressed by Alan Alda and his vision for this movie. I wanted to be friends with these people. Their doubts and fears and foibles and anxieties are relatable, even if some of them are steeped in some very rigid gender roles. I highly recommend this movie for its humor and warmth - it’s hard to pass up Alan Alda and Carol Burnett under any circumstances, but these are particularly good ones. If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

#120in2020 #the four seasons #the four seasons review #alan alda #carol burnett #movie reviews #film reviews #patreon review

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xxisxxisxxis · 5 years ago

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Gateway Drug | Part Seventy

Word count: 4.1K

Warning(s): explicit language, mentions of drug abuse, explicit sexual content

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I excitedly jump up and down, seeing the mass of hair stepping into the hotel lobby.

Stevie’s the first one in and I’m nearly tackling him, hugging him tightly because of how much I’ve missed him.

He’s tightly hanging on to me, letting out a happy sigh before pulling away to look at me.

“You look good, babe. Tired, but good.” He assures me, pinching at the tip of my nose and I smile, kissing his cheek for a second before I’m hugging at Slash as he smiles and says, “hey, Viv.”

I look at Izzy when I pull away from Slash, and he looks me up and down once.

“Viv.” He says to me in greeting.

“Izzy.” I reply.

I’m even excited to see Axl, and he tenses up a little when I hug him, but relaxes and asks, “are you dying or something?” in reference to me hugging him.

“I love you, and I’ve missed you, and I’m being driven insane and being that you’re already batshit, I know you can sympathize.” I tell him.

“Ha. Ha.” He sarcastically lets out but doesn’t go to pull away until I’m good and ready. “Oh, by the way, I’m telling folks in L.A. we’re siblings.”

“Why?” I raise a brow, pulling away.

“So you can also be known as ‘Axl Rose’s sister’ when I get rich and famous.” He grins. “‘Nikki Sixx’s wife’ is losing it’s oomf, ya know?”

“Especially once the D-I-V-O-R-C-E is filed.” I add.

“Exactly. So, I’m making sure you’ll still have a name to drop to help you get stuff for free.”

“Gee, thanks.” I nod, my eyes shifting to Duff.

He’s got the smallest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey.” I say to him.

“Hi.” He replies.

“Alright.” Doc’s starting, stepping from the elevator to greet the guys. “Doc McGhee, pleasure to meet you guys, we have a show tonight so you’ve got,” He looks at his watch. “Two hours to get settled in, rest, bend a chick over, whatever. The bus is leaving here at 7:00pm, and no later than that. Got it?” He asks and they all nod. “Okay, here are the itineraries--the guys usually don’t pay these any mind, they just go when we tell them to, but in case you needed it, there it is.” Pieces of paper with the tour schedule on it is handed to them and Stevie smiles widely, nodding his head, showing his excitement for the next month ahead. “I’m going to get a shower, if you have any questions, either ask Viv or ask Fred Saunders, our head of security--Viv knows his number. Here are your room keys, I’ve already got you guys checked in. See you tonight.” He finishes, not giving them the chance to even reply before he’s gone.

“He seems…” Axl starts and I look at him.

“He is.” I reply. “Alright, let’s get you guys settled in.”

Doc got them joined rooms, so Duff’s room was connected to Axl’s, who was connected to Izzy, who was connected to Slash, who was connected to Stevie. At first I thought it was a good idea...

“Was your flight okay?” I ask Duff when we get to his room after helping the guys with their luggage, his hotel room door shutting before he sits his suitcase down by the door before looking around the room.

“Dude, this is nice.” He mumbles, letting out a small sigh as I step to the bathroom, cracking the door.

“Duff?”

“Yeah?” He asks, probably still in awe of the room.

I pull my shorts off, revealing the red, lacy, fabric, before pulling my shirt over my head and look at myself in the mirror.

“Your flight?” I remind him.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” He tells me. “It was okay. Izzy had an anti anxiety pill so that helped.”

"Oh." I reply, hearing him sit on the bed and I take my cross off my neck, pulling my hair to one shoulder. "The guys are really excited to see you guys.” I try to start a conversation.

“Is that why they met us in the lobby?” He sarcastically says and I raise a brow.

“They’re still passed out from last night.” I inform him. “So is Tansy.”

“Is she healed up pretty good now?”

“Yeah, she hates her scar but she’s alright.” I add, rubbing my lips together.

"What are you doing?" I mouth to myself, taking a few heavy breaths before closing my eyes to calm down.

"Well, a scar on her stomach isn't anything to freak out about. Which I know she's a mod…" he trails off when I step out and lean against the bathroom door frame, his eyes scanning up my body, taking their precious time examining the "D" on my hip bone that's visible through the red-tinted see-through panties.

He seems like his mouth is dry and I smirk, my hips slowly swaying with each step before I reach the foot of the bed and crawl on, causing him to pull himself backwards until he's against the headboard, squeezing his eyes closed.

"Viv." He starts, holding down a moan when I throw my long leg over his hip and straddle him.

"Yes?"

"W-We're right next to Axl, and you're not the quietest, and--oh, shit." He groans as my tongue licks up his neck.

"Mhmm." I egg him on, pressing a kiss under his ear as his hands go to my waist.

"You're not very quiet and I don't want him to find out about us." He chokes out, my hands sliding under his shirt to feel at his warm skin before my lips press to his for a moment.

"But I can't be loud with your cock down my throat." I suggest, grinding the junction of my thighs into the bulge in his pants and he lets out a weak noise.

"Vivian, we can't--" he's cut off by my lips meeting his again, our tongues running against each other, causing him to sigh out.

When we pull away he looks like he's about to break his argument.

"Please, baby?" I beg. "If I'm too loud you can just turn me over and press my mouth to the mattress. Or choke me." I add and he raises his brows.

"I can--what?"

"Besides, I only get loud when I take all of it." I softly let out, grinding against him again.

"Y-You take all of it?" He stutters out, eyes wide.

"Mhmm, don't you remember? When you pulled me on top and got as deep as you could, and I told you to go deeper, and I took every fucking inch that I you thought wouldn't fit?" I remind him sultrily and he looks like he's about to pass out from holding back.

"That didn't hurt?" He asks me, trying to stay strong as I kiss at his jaw.

"Kind of, but that's what made me come so fucking hard." I inform him and he clenches his jaw. "Remember what that felt like for me to come all over your--"

"--Vivian, I'm about to have a heart attack." He tells me as if begging for mercy but I'm soaked through my panties and just want to be fucked into oblivion at this point.

"You haven't missed it?" I whisper, my teeth nipping at this neck. "All hot and wet…" I keep going, taking his hand and moving it to cup at my soaked sex through my panties and he curses under his breath. "I know you've missed cumming in it." I bite at my lip.

"Holy fuckin--oh my god." He nearly groans when I take my bra off, my hands running over my breasts, rolling my nipples.

"I've always thought you'd want to do it again when you got here." I say, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips briefly, not fingers lacing through his hair as I add: "I've been fucking myself every night since it first happened, picturing you inside me while I come over and over again, getting the bedsheets all wet…"

His eyes roll in the back of his head as I reach in his pants and slowly move my hand up and down his long shaft, my mouth watering.

"Vivian, you're gonna make me die." He says, running his hand down his face as I take a swipe of his precum and lick it off my finger, making him look completely entranced. "You didn't tell me you were like this or I would have--fuck…" he can't speak when I pull him out of his zipper and spit down on him, using it as lube to continue jacking him off.

"You would have what?" I ask him innocently, taking my panties off.

"You can't be too loud." He tries to tell me.

"I won't." I assure him.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

He holds his pinky out and I pull his shirt over his head, giggling as he gets his long, blonde hair out of his face, and holds his pinky back up.

"Pinky promise? Because if we get caught, I don't want you getting in trouble." He tells me.

"Pinky promise." I agree, wrapping my pinky with his.

He goes to kiss me, but the walkie-talkie I left on the bathroom counter goes off, and sounds like Fred says, "six and a half."

"I gotta get that." I tell Duff.

"You've been talking mad shit over here and then run when I'm ready?" He aggravates me and I give him a quick kiss before crawling to the foot of the bed. "Okay, you can't do that." He tells me, lunging over me, his chest against my back as I fall to the mattress, laughing, his lips kissing to my shoulder blades. "I know what position we're trying toni--"

Axl's door suddenly swings open--which I could have sworn we had locked--to reveal Axl, Steven, Slash and Izzy.

Their eyes are bugged with shock at the sight of us naked, in a compromising position.

"Welp, you bastards owe me forty-five bucks, each." Izzy states to the guys, seeming to be the only one not surprised, as Fred's still over the walkie-talkie, calling for me.

It was so fucking weird. Axl had a melt down like Duff suspected, and then everyone had to act like they didn't know a damn thing and me and Duff had to act like there wasn't a damn thing to be known.

I hold tight to my crucifix as Nikki, Tommy, Vince and Mick talk with Axl, Stevie, Slash, Izzy and Duff before they're due to go on stage.

"Hey, after the show you guys wanna see what we can get in to down here?" Tommy invites them.

"Hell yeah." Stevie's the first one to say.

"Sounds fine to me." Slash adds.

Tommy and Nikki wait for Duff to reply, and he smiles at their offer but shakes his head a little.

"I got things I gotta do." He tells them. "But thanks, though."

"Of course you've got things to do." Tommy states. "All the pussy you guys are gonna pull in tonight." He explains with a proud smile and I cringe slightly as Axl looks at me.

"Yeah. All that pussy." He repeats, smugly.

"Guys, c'mon." Doc motions to them. "You're up."

"You guys are gonna kill it." Vince encourages them.

"You got this." Tommy adds.

"Don't puke!" Nikki calls to them and I look at him.

"That was lovely, Sixx." Mick mumbles.

"What, it was serious advice." He argues.

I don't say a word, deciding to keep my mouth shut being this is one of the few times we're not screaming at each other.

Halfway through the set, Axl says something that catches Nikki's attention, in particular.

"I'd like to dedicate this next song to someone very special in my life, who's like the absolute she-devil in disguise." He says to the crowd. "She's the type to kick you in the fucking balls and then ask why you're on the ground, but she kicks anybody else's ass who kicks you in the balls so that makes her a friend to me." He adds, grinning when the fans laugh a little. "Goes out to the hottest chick to be on the cover of Playboy, Mrs. Sixx, Vivian, it's called 'You're Crazy'."

I see Nikki's jaw rolling, but I can't tell if it's because Axl brought up Playboy, or called me crazy...he'd probably be even more pissed if I told him Axl actually wrote the song with me in mind.

As Mötley gets ready to take over, Nikki's tugging at my crucifix, pulling it off.

"What the hell, Nikki?!" I bark at him viciously, but calm down when I see he's just putting it around his own neck.

"It's a new leg of the tour, Vivian, it's a fucking good luck charm. Chill your fucking tits."

I don't argue, finding it kind of nice he still wants to wear it, even after everything that's happened between us.

I should buy him his own as a divorce present.

Once Guns is off stage, Tansy’s carrying on about Sparkie--who’s apparently got the “flu”, but I know that excuse all too well.

“Last night he just…” She says defeatedly and the guys chug from their water bottles as she tries to speak carefully, that familiar smack slur in her speech. “...He was like, obsessing over that fucking Playboy issue with you in it.” She informs me. “Then fucked up and said ‘Viv’ while I was giving him a blowjob.”

Axl rolls his eyes at the mention of her giving another man a blowjob and I hold back my smug smile at his expression, but he doesn’t say a word. He just continues to be obsessed with her in private and Izzy mumbles about getting something to eat before leaving.

“I woke up to you screaming, ‘she’s not even doing it right’.” I tell her, being that my room is next door to theirs at the hotel. “Is that because I’m not completely showing everything off, or…?”

“I just don’t like my boyfriend lusting after my best friend..” Tansy calmly explains.

“Well, it’s not my fault your slimy boyfriend can’t control himself.” I state, Stevie stepping out of the room to go with Izzy, I’m assuming.

"I'm not arguing, Viv, alright?" Tansy tries to end it here, but I refuse to let her.

"No, no, you've had plenty to say to Sparkie about it so go ahead and get it all out of your system, Tans." I insist.

"We’ve got different opinions on it, Viv, and I don’t--”

“--Because you just think I’m trying to compete against you.” I say sharply to her..

“No, in order for you to ‘compete’, you’d have to do what I do, as good as I do it, and you didn’t.”

“Oh, I think I did or else you wouldn’t be as upset over it as you are." I hiss back.

"Seriously, can you not get into this right now?" Axl asks us, the guys awkwardly keeping their mouths shut, and me and Tansy ignore him.

"No, Vivian, you're not competing with me, because there's no competition, because this is what I've been doing for a living the past six years. I'm sorry if you regret starting a life with Nikki because you never got to finish school and have your own identity and your own thing going for you--"

"--You think I regret starting my own life?" I ask her in disbelief.

"I think you regret not going to school and being a dancer like you'd planned, because all of us are living the dream we've had since we were kids, except for you, so you feel left behind." She clarifies.

"Who the hell said I'm left behind? I'm still with you guys, I'm still here." I argue.

"Yeah, as 'Nikki Sixx's wife' and 'Tansy Lyn's Friend', and that's why you posed because at least your actual name--you as an individual--would finally be on a fucking magazine, the only problem is you don't think it was worth it, now."

"Girls--" I put my hand up, causing Slash to stop before he starts, and he shakes his head and lets out a breath.

"--Are you sure I'm the one that thinks being plastered naked in a magazine isn't worth it? Who's the one so strung out she's completely projecting her bullshit on to her friend and belittling her to make herself feel like she's won?"

"Won what?! What's the fucking prize, Vivian?!"

"I'm outta here." Slash mumbles, not wanting to be around the bullshit drama, as I yell back:

"Attention, Tansy! Everybody knows the thing that drives you is attention and how other people view you! You're so jealous at the fact that, for onc, guys aren't focused on sweet, little, travel-sized-bed-bunny, Tansy, that you don't know how to fucking handle it! And modeling with your pussy and tits out isn't worth it to you anymore because, yes you've got money and fame and attention, but you are still so fucking unhappy! You're angry and envious because I'm content with the fact I'm naked in a magazine, and you're so sick with yourself for doing the same thing!"

"Viv, c'mon, now." Duff says lowly as he nudges me to cut it out, but I can't. I'm too pissed.

"God, Vivian, you are so fucking privileged!" She starts laughing, tears in her eyes and I raise my brows. "I winded up modeling for these nude magazines because me and mama needed the fucking money! I never got my license because we couldn't afford a car for me so what the hell was the point?! Any 'spending' money was put towards pageants and cheer, and when I got the offer I took it and ran with it because I was tired of being fucking broke!" She yells and I roll my jaw. "You, however, did it just because you wanted to! And I know they gave you a lot of money for it and you're scared of Nikki not leaving you enough money to take care of yourself when you guys divorce--and I'm sorry for you, that sucks--but, Vivian, you didn't sign a prenup so half of his shit is going to you, anyway, and being that he's casually had checks of $600,000 chilling in his mailbox before, you're gonna be pretty fucking set for a while without having the extra $40,000! You are so fucking spoiled and you don't even realiz--"

"--I'm sorry, I'm what?!" I scream, taking a step closer to her, causing Axl to get a little closer as well.

"Viv, seriously, please just leave it alone." Duff begs me and I disregard it as Tansy goes on.

"You literally went from your dad buying you everything you fucking wanted, to Nikki buying you everything you fucking wanted, and you've never had to lift a finger to get any of it! All you had to do was ask your dad for whatever, and now all you've gotta do is give Nikki a blowjob and the world is yours!"

"I don't recall asking my dad or Nikki for a fucking scholarship to Juilliard! I don't recall asking neither of them to fill in for me, dancing for eight fucking hours a day--on my fucking toes--for years, or study for me in all my classes so I could have a high GPA to get into a good school! I might not have a 'thing' right now, but I do know what hard work is and if you want to compare dancing and modeling, we sure as hell can because I assure you, Tansy, you're not where you are because you worked your ass off, you're where you are because you fucked all the right people and got to the top!"

"And so did you!" She exclaims, and Duff and Axl are pulling me off of her a few seconds after my nails are going for her throat.

"Fuck off!" Axl screams at me, getting us separated, standing in front of her to guard her as Duff's got my back against him, his long arms having a steel grip around me in case I try to go again.

Tansy's only got a small, surface scratch over her neck.

"I might have my issues, Vivian, but anytime any of us act batshit crazy and just attack people it's because we're tripping on something and don't know what we're doing! You're so fucked up all on your own without needing anything to bring it out of you!" She yells.

"I didn't start losing my temper and being 'crazy' until you and Nikki and Tommy and Vince decided to become raging drug addicts and alcoholics and then act like it's still all fun and games when two of you OD at least twice a fucking year!" I shriek back. "And I don't feel left behind, yet, but I will when you junkies finally shoot your last fucking cc, and I'm left to plan fucking funerals!"

Her face falls at my words, realizing why I'm such a fucking wreck all the time.

"I don't look at you and think 'model' and I don't look at the guys and think 'Mötley Crüe' because I just see fucked up morons who need help but refuse to fucking accept it, so congratulations, Tansy, at least you found your 'thing', I mean really, I'm so envious that I'm not a sloppy heroin addict, alcoholic, crackhead. You really do win." I finish, getting out of Duff's grasp, leaving and slamming the door behind me.

"The fuck is your problem, huh?!" Axl barks, following after me and I ignore him, causing him to grab at my arm roughly, stopping me, and I whip around to face him, seeing Duff coming to us.

"Leave me the fuck alone, Axl." I warn him.

"Or what? You gonna hit me? I wish to fuck you would, you crazy bitch, I'll have you laid out right here." He cuts back.

"Axl, man, leave her alone." Duff tells him, trying to pull him away from me but Axl sharply snatches away from him.

I see Fred coming towards us from the corner of my eye, Slash and Doc following behind him.

Getting the timing perfect, the palm of my hand is smacking as hard as it can against Axl's cheek, and we're being pulled apart before he can hit me back, which I know he's planning on doing.

“For the love of God, Vivian, can you fucking stay out of a fucking fight just for one fucking night?!” Fred shouts at me, “Girls, Girls, Girls” beginning to play from the stage.

“No, because she’s a fucking psycho!” Axl barks back.

“Oh, I’m the fucking psycho?!” I blare at him.

“Vivian, please calm down.” Doc pleads, rubbing his forehead.

“Suck my clit!” I sneer at him, trying to kick him.

“I’m so close to have you thrown in a psych ward and evaluated!” He’s suddenly outbursting.

“The fuck did you just say?!” Duff’s getting in on it, now, his nostrils flaring at Doc’s comment. “Maybe she’s this out of order because she’s got so much fucking pressure on her from you selfish motherfuckers!”

“You wanna stay on this tour or not, kid?!” Doc snaps at him.

“I’ll go get Nikki off the fucking stage to come handle this shit--you threatening to throw his fucking wife in a crazy house, the fuck is wrong with you?!” Duff keeps on.

“Alright, everybody just calm down!” Fred yells, making everyone go quiet, the many crew members now stopped and watching everything go down. “Duff, Axl, Slash, find Izzy and Steven and stay in your fucking dressing room and eat.” He orders, pointing at the three of them.

Axl’s let go, and he’s shooting me the nastiest glare in the world as he pushes past us, Duff glancing at me, letting out a heavy breath before following him with Slash.

“Doc, go watch the show.” Fred states next.

Doc looks like he’s about to argue.

“Doc. I’m serious.”

He exhales and steps away, turning the corner, and Fred then stares at everyone staring at us.

“The fuck are you cock-suckers looking at?” He asks them.

They nervously fumble about their business and Fred pulls me to the bathroom.

He stares at me when we get inside and I raise my brows at him, expecting him to immediately start in on me, but he surprises me when he stays silent for a while, looking as if he’s trying to figure how to speak, until he finally does...and causes the breath to leave my body completely.

“How long have you been fucking him?”

#nikki sixx #mötley crüe #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx x oc #gateway drug

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riverboundao3ff · 4 years ago

Text

Riverbound, Chapter 17

All in all, Lanque’s a whole lot calmer about the whole thing than you thought he’d be, which makes you feel better about going to him right away instead of Daraya. Of course you love Daraya, but knowing the kid she’d probably run off to start a fight with Bronya, Lynera, and any other poor bastard who gets in her way.

“I want to believe Bronya’s doing this because she thinks she’s in the right, but I just can’t… augh! I just… can’t believe she’d ask me to do something like that.” You conclude your messy rant by flopping down on the carpet. There’s a dull ache in your skull from either exhaustion or anxiety, possibly both.

Lanque’s looking down at you from the loveseat in the corner like the universe’s most judgemental therapist, sprawled across the whole thing with his gangly self. “You haven’t known her nearly as long as I have. You heard me say once that she’s the craziest bitch in the whole cloister. I meant it.”

You want to argue with him; Bronya isn’t crazy, just a control freak, but that’s gonna have to be a discussion for another time. “You’re not surprised at all by this? Not even a little?”

“Not surprised. Just… disappointed.”

“What, does she make you to sleep at certain times and check your palmhusk, too?” you joke.

“Not anymore, she doesn’t. She learned her lesson after I filled my whole camera roll with the spiciest nudes you can imagine.”

You try not to imagine anything of the sort and fail miserably. Your last brain cell hangs on for dear life. “So, uh… w-what should I tell her the next time we go out?”

“Tell her that I’ve been taking Daraya to a slam poetry club. We’ve actually done poetry in the past, so it’s not like you’ll be lying,” he says with a smirk. “You should come sometime. Talk to people about all sorts of controversial alien opinions. Maybe throw in some rhymes while you’re at it.”

“Alright,” you agree.

“... Darling?”

“Yes, babe?”

“Don’t breathe a word of this to Daraya. She’s stressed out enough as it is.”

“Of course not.”

“Good.”

:::

The next night you spend with Polypa, vandalizing stuff with the Heiress’s face on it and even setting a billboard on fire. It’s a lot of fun, but between vandalizations you can’t stop yourself from thinking about the girl herself. From what you can tell she’d be around seventeen in human years, which meant she’d soon have to challenge the Empress, as all the Heiresses before her did.

Some teenagers like to play video games, some like to sing or dance or do sports; you even know a few who live all by themselves on an island in the middle of the ocean who can shoot guns better than most military personnel. But not Trizza Tethis. No, she’ll be off to duel for the throne… and her life.

In your hearts of hearts you know that Tethis is a monster. There’s no doubt about it. But that doesn’t change the fact that she’s still just a kid, a kid who is going to be murdered soon for the crime of reaching adulthood.

It makes your heart hurt just thinking about that, and all of the other girls that came before her, and if this rebellion goes to shit all the girls who will come after her.

“Hey, Polypa?” you ask.

“Yeah?” She’s hanging upside-down on some broken piping while spraying THE REVOLUTION IS HERE on the side of a post office. You’re being a good moirail and keeping watch for anybody who might see her, even though it’s dark out and you can’t see much past the street lights lining the sidewalk. For some reason she refuses to tell you, she’s been in a mood ever since she came back from Tegiri’s, but you’re patient. You can wait for her.

“Do you ever wonder if Trizza might have been a good person if Alternia wasn’t the way it is?”

Polypa stops what she’s doing and stares down at you. “Honestly? I don’t really care how she might have turned out if things were different. All the things I’ve seen her do, the shit I’ve heard her say on social media… I just can’t bring myself to believe anything other than she’s one of the most horrible Heiresses Alternia’s ever had and that she deserves to die. Slowly and painfully, that is. And then she deserves to be forgotten.”

“That’s fair,” you tell her. “I dunno, I just kept thinking about how she’s supposed to go off and duel the Empress soon, and that she’s definitely not gonna win, because none of the fuschias who went up against her ever did.”

“... Does that make you sad?”

“It makes me sad that a kid is going to die, yes.”

She huffs. “Save your sympathy. She doesn’t deserve it.”

“Can trolls control who they sympathize with?”

“Of course we can. Can’t humans?”

You laugh. “No. Or at least I can’t. Empathy’s a blessing and a curse.”

Polypa chucks her spray-paint can into the nearby dumpster. “Empathy? Isn’t that like, feeling what other people are feeling? I thought that was just a myth.”

“Some humans can feel the emotions of others. I’ve always been able to.”

“That sucks.”

“Again, it’s a blessing and a curse.”

Polypa shudders, flips upright, and then drops down to the concrete. “If you say so. C’mon, let’s scram.”

You scram, or at least you try to before somebody bumps into you hard enough to nearly knock you over.

“Watch it!” Polypa hisses from somewhere behind you.

You look up at a boft looking (buff plus soft) rustblood guy, who flinches back when he accidentally looks you in the eye. “Sorry! Sorry. Bye.”

He shuffles off down the street, shoulders hunched in like he’s trying to make himself as small as possible even though he’s easily the biggest rust you’ve ever seen. Huh.

“Well, that was weird,” you say, and then you feel something crinkle in the hood of your jacket. Cautiously, you reach up and grab it, hoping that he didn’t just put a bomb on you or something. You aren’t that worried about dying, because you know your immortal ass is coming right on back, but if Polypa’s in the blast zone--

“It’s a piece of paper,” she says.

“Oh, yay. I thought it might be a bomb.”

“Definitely not a bomb.”

The paper’s been folded several times, so you smooth it out and read the letters that have been cut out and glued out in a note, like some kind of Nancy Drew shit.

“What the…” You read the message, and then you read it again, once, twice, thrice, four times before Polypa starts swatting at you and grabbing for the paper. You hand it over and stare out across the street.

You are not alone. Tomorrow at midnight.

“I’m texting the others,” Polypa mutters, shoving the paper into her pocket and whipping out her palmhusk.

“There’s more of us,” you whisper. “That’s what it means, right? We’re not the only faction out there fighting for-!”

“I don’t know, I don’t know, let’s not believe anything that some stranger wrote down on a piece of paper and shoved into your hoodie--”

“But he came to me, Polypa--”

“Hey!”

Both of you turn around to see some cerulean girl you don’t know storming across the street to you. “The fuck you think you gutterbloods are doing, huh?”

“The revolution is here, bitch,” you tell her, and you grab Polypa’s sleeve and zap away.

Polypa does not hesitate to smack you upside the head the second you two appear on the roof of some building downtown. “The hell was that? She just saw an alien and an oliveblood teleport out of an alley with fresh graffiti on the post office!”

“Who’s gonna believe her?” you snort.

“She’s a cerulean, she’ll make somebody believe her.”

“Dude. Chill. We still have time before things get crazy.”

“Apparently not! Tomorrow at midnight--”

“I know! Isn’t it great? What if it’s like, a big post on Chittr, or a public service announcement from God knows where saying that it’s time for bigots to start shitting their pants, because the revolution is here and it is sexy!”

“Augh!” Polypa throws up her hands. You start to get a little concerned. “Aren’t you scared? Like, at all? We could all die tomorrow and you’re just… totally fine! You disappear for half a sweep and come back ready to lead a revolution!”

Alright, it’s time to bring out the big guns. Slowly, so she has time to pull away if she wants, you step forward and reach up to caress her cheek.

The effect is instantaneous. She visibly loosens up from horns to toes, leaning forward into the contact with a low chirrup rising up from deep in her throat. If you were a troll, that sound would have probably made you pale-horny to the max, but you’re human so all you do is just stand up on your tippy-toes to press your foreheads together. You imagine pulling away all of her fear and stress and releasing it into the open sky, never to be seen again.

“We’re not going to die,” you tell her. “We’re just not. And if we were, I’d tell you, because dying isn’t that bad. Doesn’t even hurt, really.”

“... You’ve been dead before?”

“Yeah. Feels like the best fucking nap you’ve ever taken.”

She snorts hard enough for you to feel her breath across your face. “Only you would say something like that and be completely unbothered.”

“That’s just how it be sometimes,” you say, because joking about your trauma and having anxiety are basically your only two personality traits nowadays.

“I’ll write that down for the pile,” she says, because she’s always been able to see right through you, even when you can’t see yourself. “Which we’re going back to an abandoned apartment building to do once I yeet this glass bottle into that window over there.”

She picks up the broken glass bottle at your feet and proceeds to do just that. It sails through the air with all the majesty of an eagle and crashes through somebody’s office window. You know enough about troll romance by now to be a little scandalized by how forward she’s being, but you both know it’s out of necessity. Troll language is far from just verbal-- it’s flattened ears or bared fangs or dilated pupils. It’s hissing and chirping and growling and all sorts of sounds you don’t even know the names for, and you can’t even hear most of them because they’re either too low or too high a pitch for your human ears to catch.

“Hot damn, wildcat. You gonna take me out to dinner before you throw me down on somebody’s abandoned loungeplank?” you tease. Her face lights up in green, and you grin in satisfaction as she splutters something about saving it for the respiteblock.

You’re about to cook up something truly slutty to say when her palmhusk vibrates. Polypa reads it and snorts. “Aaaannnddd Daraya is losing her mind, Tagora says it’s a trap, Tyzias wants to know what the rustblood looked like, Stelsa is in agreement with Tagora, Lanque is asking how the hell it could be a trap when the rustblood didn’t even ask you to meet him anywhere, and Mallek is telling everybody to shut up so he can take a nap. Konyyl and Azdaja haven’t responded yet. I bet they’re making out in a back alley somewhere. Oh, Tagora is telling Lanque to shut his Troll Twilight-looking ass up before he fines him for wasting the rebellion’s time… and Tyzias just sent a bunch of hysterical laughing emojis.”

“I love my friends,” you say.

“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

“I’m gonna get Mallek to hack the server so whenever people start arguing over stupid stuff a bot starts spamming the chat with gifs of fighting purrbeasts.”

“Do group chats have servers?”

“I have no idea. Come on, I’m fucking freezing up here.”

:::

Your memories of growing up on Earth are fuzzy at best. You have no idea if it’s from Scratch, or Ultimate Dirk, or hell, maybe it’s just regular old brain damage, but one of the few things you can vividly remember is when your grandma died.

You can’t remember her name, but you can easily recall her eternally-smiling face, that smile that always reached her eyes-- hazel, like yours. She’s the one who taught you how to braid your hair, wing your eyeliner, ask out a crush. She also taught you how to take down a grown man with nothing but your fists and a pocketknife. Old age hadn’t ever been a problem for your grandma. Or at least, that’s what it felt like.

The morning your uncle found in her lifeless in bed hadn’t felt any different than all of the mornings before. You just woke up and started to get ready for school, and then your mom… yeah, it was your mom who picked up the phone. She didn’t cry, but your uncle did.

It was a heart attack.

Your mom told you that you didn’t have to go to school, but you were still pretty young, and it still felt like every other morning before so you went to school.

You’re not sure why you’re remembering this when you first smell the smoke, or see the burning buildings from the roof of the abandoned apartment building you and Polypa crashed in. Maybe it’s because it still feels like every other night before this one.

Something deep in you that’s been irreversibly interwoven with time and space begins to tingle. This is a turning point in history, you just know it.

Polypa’s shaking her head like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. “It’s a riot. A riot. In Thrashthrust. We really aren’t…”

“Alone,” you finish with a smile so big it hurts your face.

“... Do you think this is really the right thing to do?”

“A wise man from my planet once said that riots are the language of the unheard.” You turn to her and take her hands in your own. “So let’s make them hear us.”

You’re not sure what you were expecting when you drop yourself and Polypa into downtown Thrashthrust, but you definitely weren’t expecting to almost get run over by Konyyl and Azdaja, both panting, sweaty, and smelling faintly of smoke.

Konyyl yelps and jumps about a foot in the air. “WHAT the-- oh, hi, guys. You didn’t scare me, I just… yeah.”

“Dude, what is all this? This is incredible!” you crow.

An explosion rocks the ground, followed by a giant plume of fire that shoots up into the sky just one street over. Azdaja whoops in delight, and Konyyl cheers even louder as a piece of flaming metal you think used to be a scuttlebuggy sails through the air and takes out a convenience store. Normally, something like that would have worried you, but seeing as the store’s already nearly burnt to the ground you think everybody’s already gotten out.

Not to be outdone, Azdaja telekinetically grabs on to a fallen lamppost and hurls that bad boy through the grocery store across the street.

“Show-off,” Konyyl scoffs.

“Where’s the main protest?” you ask.

“Like, a couple of blocks back that way. Some bronzeblood is leading the charge. Absolute mad lad,” she says, grinning. “I think a few more people you know might be there.”

That’s all the convincing you need to grab Polypa’s hand and take off running. You can hear the roar of a crowd chanting something.

“What are they saying?” you ask Polypa.

“Be silent no longer, when we’re together, we’re stronger,” she replied, glancing back at you with a twinkle in her eye. “I kinda like it.”

“Me too!”

The both of you turn the corner at the end of Hookedclaw street and find yourself face-to-face with a sizable crowd of about one hundred trolls. They’re all looking up to a pair of trolls standing on an upturned scuttlebuggy-- a bronzeblood, like Konyyl said, and the same big rustblood guy who you ran into last night.

You gape in shock. “Holy shit!”

The bronzeblood boy is yelling something, so you press closer into the crowd to hear what he’s saying. Most of the trolls here seem to be lowbloods, so when they see you and Polypa, an oliveblood, they gladly make room for you to join.

“... for what? A social construction that keeps us divided, because those who sit on thrones marked with the blood of our people know how strong we are together! They know that we’d be able to take control of our own destinies, and that terrifies them!” He pauses to take a short breath. “For fuck’s sake, I just want a world where I can walk down the street without worrying about getting killed! Is the bar really that damn low? Think about that, all of you!”

Another wave of cheering echoes through the streets, and you join in without hesitation.

“This guy’s spitting straight facts,” Polypa admits, looking impressed.

“He’s got balls, all right,” you agree. “That rustblood guy look familiar to you?”

She ribs you. “Yeah, yeah, you were right. I admit it.”

You turn your attention back to the boys, but they’re looking over the heads of the protestors at something behind you. A soft wave of hisses rise into the air as you turn to see a trio of purples stalking towards everybody, clubs dragging behind them with the awful scrape of steel against concrete. They’re twice the size of Polypa, except the giant fucker in the middle, who you think might be just a little bit shorter than Chahut.

“That’s a pretty sermon there, bronze brother,” he calls with a voice that crackles like burning wood. “Pretty for a load of treasonous fuckin’ shit.”

“Can’t be shittier than whatever they’re cooking up in that drug-hole church of yours,” the bronzeblood fires back with a smirk.

Even the rustblood standing next to him sucks in a sharp breath as the clown regards him with no trace of emotion. Polypa grabs your hand, and you squeeze it tight.

“You’ve got a big-ass mouth for a critter the size of my motherfuckin’ left toe,” the clown on the big guy’s right says.

“And you’ve got a big-ass forehead for a bastard with such a tiny skull.”

Somebody lets out a loud snort. It might have been you.

The feeble tendrils of bravery holding everybody together begin to unravel as the purplebloods begin to approach once more. You instinctively back up and pull your jacket hood over your head.

“Get ready,” Polypa growls.

But before the clowns have the chance to attack or use their chucklevoodoos, or before the lowbloods gather their courage enough to storm the intruders, a deafening CRACK splits the air like a thunderclap.

The clown to the far left drops like a rock, and standing over him, bat raised, is Elwurd.

She’s wearing a mask to conceal her face, of course, but you’d recognize that crest of blue hair anywhere. Beside her is Remele with her oversized mallet-club thing, and bringing up the rear with shining dual blades is none other than Ardata Carmia.

“Am I fucking dreaming,” you ask nobody in particular, and then all hell breaks loose.

The cerulean girls lunge for the two purplebloods that are still on their feet. The bronzeblood screams for everybody to scatter just as drones begin to swoop down from the sky, opening fire on the trolls below. Half a dozen kids drop dead on the spot.

You and Polypa duck into the nearest alleyway just in time before bullet holes pepper the pavement. Behind you, Elwurd roars something that sounds like “Duck!” before another explosion blows out all the windows. You yelp and cover your head as glass showers down on you like rainfall.

“Zap us out of here!” Polypa yells.

“No, wait! We have to go help the girls!”

“I’m not going back out there and neither are you!”

You glance back just in time to see Ardata drop to her knees, holding her bloody arm. She’s shrieking in terror as a drone advances on her, culling fork glinting bone-white in the darkness. Remele and Elwurd are too busy getting their asses kicked by the last living clown to help.

In that moment you can’t remember her as the bloodthirsty murderer who tortured you in her basement. All you can think of is the time she broke down in your arms, overcome with guilt at the monster she’d become in the name of being accepted by highblood society. A monster who’d traumatized you, and then became your friend.

You’re moving through space and time before your brain can catch up to what you’re doing. Ardata is cold and hard when you tackle her out of the way of the drone. The two of you tumble across the street together as the culling fork hits the spot where Ardata just was with a SHUNK. Even with adrenaline racing through your system the sound chills you to the core.

Remembering what Dirk taught you about hand-to-hand combat with a larger opponent, you grab one of her knives and zap right over to the clown, getting right up in his business before burying the blade into an eye socket.

Unsurprisingly, he drops a squirming Remele and covers his face with a scream so horrible you almost pee your pants. Ardata’s wailing your name from the sidewalk like a terrified child. You want to yell at her to shut up and run before the drones spotted her again, but you never get the chance. One moment you’re twisting a knife into a purpleblood’s skull, the next you’re flying through the air like a ragdoll before a pair of strong arms wrap around you. You and your rescuer land hard on the street with matching grunts of pain.

You look up into Elwurd’s bewildered face and burst out laughing. “Hi!”

“What the--”

“Time to go!” Remele yanks the both of you up by your scruffs like a pair of naughty cats. “Ardata, stop screaming like a wiggler and get your arse over here now!”

“My arm!” Ardata screeches. “I’ll be scarred for life!”

“No, you won’t, idiot, not when you hit your adult molt-!”

You zap the three of them out of there and into the alley, grab Polypa on your way, and then get the hell out of dodge.

The five of you end up in the back of a Troll Dennys, because of course you do. Polypa falls on you, knocking you to the ground, and then she yowls in anger when Elwurd lands on her legs, only for Ardata and Remele to hit the concrete ass-first. Remele accidentally kicks you in the stomach. Ardata falls back against a dumpster and hits her head on the metal with a BANG.

Everybody stares at each other for a long moment with varying degrees and expressions of utter shock. Polypa glares at you, and you just know you’re in for a long discussion about putting your own safety first in dangerous situations, or something like that.

You decide to break the ice first. “Anybody want pancakes?”

#riverbound #pesterquest #hiveswap #hiveswap friendsim trolls #homestuck #ceruleans #c17 #mspa reader #the guardian

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cutegirlmayra · 5 years ago

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New Sonic IDW Analysis SPOILER WARNING

After reading the recent comic, I got some thoughts. Want to have a casual read?

These are just opinions, I’m not trying to shout aloud stuff, but if you’re interested in how someone else thinks--for pure curiosity and not to gain anything--then as a fan, I’ve got some words! :Db

First off, they’re really targeting all the canonically proclaimed (but never really touched upon) flaws and weaknesses Sonic has been “stated” to have. At first, I thought these were well done! Great ideas can sometimes not come into fruition right, however, and I’m afraid I’m seeing a lot of “liberties” and “Opinions” taking place in the script. These could be outside forces, but there seems to be a growing ‘anxiety’ for the script to ‘keep targeting’ certain things/issues.

This isn’t necessarily a bad desire! It’s wonderful that IDW are looking so into character! However, this is one of the first times I’ve seen a blatant misconception and/or mislabeled writing. What I mean is, someone is trying very hard to get a point across, to where the original idea seems saturated by personal agendas. This is littered throughout the new issue, though I applaud those who knew that Sonic and his universes needed these things addressed, but the way they went about them seemed a little off-brand to me, so much so, that it messed with the recent ‘good flow’ the comic had going.

The Hero’s Delima is a complexed algorithm, so to speak, and trying to cram that into a short comic shows the anxiety of the writer. Which I sympathize with. Even as a fanfiction writer, being limited to a certain amount of pages?! How dare you limit the story and my art! -table flip- but I appreciate how accurate to the original Sonic’s ‘struggles’ it is, but it’s definitely not in the spirit of the Japanese Sonic, at least, its trailed off into something of its own.

For ex.

It’s true that Sonic is listed as “Being a hot-head” or “impulsive” but we really don’t see these too much in the canon. It’s the same with Eggman,

He’s known for not thinking things through in his whimsical but diabolical planning. It goes hand-in-hand with his “I’m gonna do this! What? It has consequences to the environment? Oh well! Who cares about nature anyway!? Hahaha!” character trait, but Eggman has never contemplated good. It’s interesting to note that Eggman likes to be praised when doing something, but that something is usually evil disguised as good. So I’m a little confused why they’re trying to ‘redeem’ Eggman because this script implies a ‘redemption’ arc for Eggman’s incidents regarding Sonic Forces... But... It doesn’t add up to what--at least--I know of his character and demeanor.

Sonic is also acting strange, leading me to believe that if not a redemption arc, a Hero’s Fall arc. Which... also doesn’t make sense? I’m confused by the writing.

Dr. Starline also makes me wonder. He’s such a fun character! But in this issue, he seems literally created to point out Eggman’s flaws which he won’t do himself... Yes, as the reader, we want to be aware of his character development, but this is... somewhat too on the nose and odd placing? If that makes sense?

Sonic’s hints of loneliness, usefulness, heroic idealism, common good, etc. place a very interesting dynamic on him. He’s got a lack of sleep, which is a physical weakness recorded by the officials themselves (so I’m told) and as a fan of Sonic and Amy’s antics (lol) I loved the part where he reached out for her. The usual cheery, optimistic friend is now worry-stricken and full of responsibility. This is replacing Sally’s usual station, which I think Amy could easily substitute, but why? This isn’t Archie anymore, we don’t need these ‘war’ themes and ‘heroic odds’ like this. It’s just not coming off as good as it once was, because it’s become something more and also something less in many different areas. Either someone is pushing themselves too hard, or something is pushing the team at IDW too much... either way, it’s not looking good. Even the art department seems to be struggling with a quiet stress that isn’t being stated.

And if it is, oh boy, is no one listening to them. (A common theme really...)

Side note:

MY BOI.

He is described as downloading Eggman’s data first. FALSE. *At least, from what I know, anyway.* He was originally uploaded and ‘turned to life’ from Sonic’s data. Hence why he rebelled against Eggman, was likely rebuilt or another one created. He has an ego problem, but I wonder how they’re justifying this..? Yes, you did your homework, but how is that going to help revive and re-foundation the characters? They need solid ground, and some things are coming off ‘opinions’ and ‘filling in the blanks’ which is creative but you can do that with the facts given to you.

Honestly, it’s like someone handed these people slips of paper and said, “That’s it. That’s all they made-up. That’s all you get.” and the rest isn’t translated from Japanese or something like??? I’m just a fan, and I’ve found things out the old fashion way. I’m grateful they got so much right, but Eggman isn’t meant to be a good guy... He can do good things, but only when the situation also benefits himself. (Like in Sonic 06, Lost World, etc. Which... aren’t the best examples but that’s what I’ll put down to make this quick, haha.)

Don’t ever meet your heroes... or in this case, your villains. I’m excited to see how Starline pans out. I see an arc forming... a very tragic and sinister arc, but I can’t tell where it will lead just yet... I’m liking the foreboding but also scared of how I’ll take it...

Sonic’s portraying too many ‘traditional hero’ forms common in media, (Like Japan) but its disturbing to see most of his character cut out to replace them with these common themes. Sonic is not common! He’s the rebel hero! He’s unconventional but good! That’s what made him the ‘cool hedgehog’ back in the 90′s.

This whole turn for Sonic is weird to me. I will, of course, keep reading, but it’s very... very odd for the genre that Sonic embodies. At least, to me. This just doesn’t fit into “Sonic” or the formulas that should be in place for him.

At least, the formulas I’ve tried to find, anyway.

The deadly six were alright. I thought they were handled decently.

I also like how Starline is smart. A good contrast to Eggman’s makeshift ways, but I do think Eggman is a bit more ‘intelligent’ than what they’re playing at. Yes, he plays like a man-child, but not to this extent...

What makes me the expert? Please don’t say that,... I’m not trying to be the ‘voice of all-knowing’ness, but rather, a practical reasoning that might hint at what is to come.

There was a lot to dissect, but that’s what I’ll end with now. Thanks for reading and I hope you were intrigued at what I pointed out :)b

#cutegirlmayra #sonic IDW #me��analysis #sonic comic #sonic IDW comics #sonic the hedgehog #sonic

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sealers100 · 4 years ago

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PART 2: A (brief) review of every Donald Sutherland movie (so far)

Wowee welcome back. Yes I’m still on this shit and I intend to finish it because this is probably the most fun I’ve had in quarantine apart from working night shift at a waffle house. (I wish I was kidding) I will admit this one might not be as long as the last post but I promised to deliver so here we go for part two.

Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors

I had way too much fun with this movie! The story was unique and entertaining with a creepy twist without being so scary I can’t sleep at night. It’s got not only Donald, but also Sir Christopher Lee AND Peter Cushing! Like you can’t get any more badass than that. The acting is pretty great and the music goes hard (there’s a whole segment about a musician and I’m nerding out). Donald is maybe 29 or 30 years old and its one of his earliest (his 4th) film credit and oh goodness his segment is just too much. This is definitely a must see for any Hammer Film fanatics or Sutherland fans, You’ll love it!

The Dirty Dozen

Talk about a throwback to my childhood. Again an old army movie I remember watching with my parents (however watching it again I probably shouldn’t have). The movie itself its great if your into things like Tora Tora Tora! and Kelly’s Heroes. Not a whole lot of Donald in it but what we do get it so worth it. For a “serious and professional” actor, he plays silly and weird soooooo well. I will admit this one isn't nearly as lighthearted as Donald’s scenes might make it seem. It’s an actual war movie with heavy emotions and lots of violence and is quite sad at the end (no spoilers don’t worry). It might not be one to make you cry but you can’t help feeling bad for his character. Personally I loved it but its a classic in my household so I’m a bit biased.

Start The Revolution Without Me

I quite literally choked on my coffee watching this one. Gene Wilder and Donald made a surprisingly hilarious pair and it worked so well!!! I already can’t get enough of Gene so of course this one is probably one of my all time favorite movies across the board. Basically its a switched at birth situation and takes place during the french revolution. I won’t give away too much but if you liked anything by Mel Brooks you’ll love this one. I really can’t say much without spoiling the funny bits but if you’re having a bad day, do what I did and curl up in your onesie with a bag of popcorn and let the laughter ensue.

Act of the Heart

(tw: self harm/suicide mention) Let me start out by telling you how hard it was fro me to find this damn movie and how ecstatic I was when I finally got to sit down and watch it. For anyone who doesn’t know me, my background is in vocal performance and I did a lot of work with the episcopal church in college as a soloist for churches, weddings, events and stuff so getting to see Donald as a CONCERT DIRECTOR just made my little heart explode. I was constantly geeking out at the musical parts and even got a bit of concert anxiety for the main character, Martha Hayes. She falls in love with him but of course he’s a priest (again) but this time he actually leaves the ministry for her. The movie itself is good (and the music gets my seal of approval as well) but there’s a quite a bit of triggering stuff so this one might be a bit difficult to watch for some. I will say some of these movies are quite hard to find and I had to scour the interwebs for them so if anyone wants a watch for anything on either of these lists, don’t be afraid to message me.

Little Murders

Okay so this one will be quite short because Donald is in it for a whole 10 minutes but he should have gotten a fucking oscar for it because I have never been so amazed and shocked by one of his roles as I was with this one. The movie is great if you’re into Elliot Gould (and his hair omg). But jesus Donald stole the ENTIRE MOVIE for that one brief scene. You can find clips of it on youtube just go watch it. Hell I’ll probably post it on my blog later. It’s honestly the best thing ever, and I want it played at my wedding.

Steelyard Blues

What is it with directors and casting Jane Fonda as a prostitute? I’ll never know but Donald probably had a hand in that decision because he’s the executive producer. The movie is not great by any means but its definitely not boring. Again something about him being silly and dumb he just does so well and its so jarring in this one how silly he can get. I quite enjoyed it actually and its a real change of pace for him because while I like his character, I don’t have a whole lot of sympathy for him like I did for character’s like Casanova. I mean really he doesn’t hold back in portraying Jesse Veldini as an absolute fucking moron but I think we’re supposed to laugh at his misfortunes because they genuinely are funny (I think I just like watching him suffer) And it’s really entertaining. Again, I think Donald could have easily had a career as comedic actor but it’s nice to see how easily he can switch moods.

S*P*Y*S*

Another Donald and Elliot movie and this one is pretty hilarious too. (I’m loving these funny feel good movies) The two of them are CIA spies who aren’t stupid but definitely got the short stick in their agreement with the Russians. The plot makes sense but the way it’s gone about doesn’t really click. The Dynamic between him and Elliot is always fantastic and fun to watch so it makes up for the lack of sense this movie makes. Sorry this one couldn’t be longer but there would be much to say without writing a synopsis and I’m too tired to do that for any of these.

Day of the Locust

WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT! I mean jesus christ this movie was a horror show. The film itself is fine, its a great movie, but oH mY GoD!!!! Let me start by saying I didn’t watch the final scene with him in this movie because its fucking brutal and I just knew it wasn’t gonna be the kind of thing I’d needed to see. (Or anyone) Yeah I’d issue a few trigger warnings for this movie. OKAY so Donald’s character is named Homer Simpson (I’m not kidding) and my god I thought I had low self esteem, he’s literally the saddest most miserable and lonely character I think I’ve ever seen him play and he gets used by Faye Greener (Karen Black) who can go sit on a cactus for all I care, I hate that she’s the main character and the way she treats Donald is HORRIBLE AND I HATE IT. God this movie messed me up for a straight week afterward and I’m still not over it. He cries a lot in this one and just stooooooop please I can’t take it I know his character isn't accurate to the book its based on but it just makes me feel bad for him seeing Donald’s character slowly being destroyed by the toxic people around him icanttakeitanymoremovingon.

The Eagle Has Landed

I don’t know the first thing about the animosity between the Irish and the English all I know is that they don’t get along sometimes and Donald’s character this time is I think a NAzi SymPathizer?? I could be wrong but he does help them try to kidnap Winston Churchill (weird). There’s a strangely deep romance between him an a 19 year old girl (uh?) but it doesn’t really come to fruition. Overall it’s a hell of a spy movie and with fantastic performances from Robert Duvall (no I wasn’t able to recognize him) and Michael Caine. It’s a fun movie and Donald’s accent is of course, awful (just the way I like it) and steals the show yet again.

The Disappearance

Interesting fact, Celandine (the main character’s wife) is actually played by Donald’s real life wife, Francine Racette. So it makes for quite an interesting dynamic between the two characters that feels very realistic. This is a hitman movie that takes place in I think Montreal (hard to imagine a lot of Canadian hitmen) And has a surreal feeling about it through the whole movie. Again this was a difficult one to find at first and there is actually two version. One being 80 minutes and the other being 100min. I’m not sure why it was split like this but I’ve seen both versions and they aren’t missing anything they’re just structured differently. It does feel a bit weird watching love scenes knowing that she is is actual wife but it does feel very realistic. Overall the movie is pretty good if you want to see lots of him and his wife. Don’t worry I’m sure their relationship is a lot better than what’s portrayed in the film!

National Lampoon’s Animal House

If you don’t know the story of Donald and this film, here it is. He was originally offered 2% of the films earnings to be in it. Thinking it would be a flop, he refused and asked for his usual flat rate of 45,000. The film was a his and his 2% could have easily been upward of 1.2 million, and this was back in 1978. He later quoted this as one of his biggest regrets of his career. Overall his scenes are quite short but oh so funny. (This list is either very serious or very funny) I like to imagine he put a lot of himself into this role. I definitely had some professors like him in college.

Threshold

Come to think of it, I watched this one so long ago I think I forgot to put it on the last list I did. I was really surprised by how genuine this movie felt. Like everyone really put a lot into this movie but it didn’t get nearly the recognition it deserved. Its a medical drama so that probably why, but it’s got an adorably young Jeff Goldblum and I can’t help but love him and Donald in every scene they’re in together. They play off each other pretty well most of the time and I didn’t really see anything wrong with this film other than it might have been on the lower end of filming budgets but it wasn’t a bad movie. It deserved better.

Ordeal by Innocence

I wish I could say the same for this movie. On it’s own its an alright film. On it’s own the soundtrack is fine too. But when the put the two together It was jarring as hell. The acting and story were okay and could have been fine alone but the soundtrack really broke any chance this film had of being taken seriously. I would have loved to seen it just on it’s own. Donald’s character is for once a genuine kind of ass that I really don’t like but it’s Agatha Christie, all her characters are assholes. This film really had potential but it shot itself point blank in the foot with the music.

A Time to Kill

Jumping forward to the 90′s, this movie is a classic based on a John Grisham novel and wow did I get invested! Donald isn’t in the film a whole lot but he does feel like an integral part of the plot and I really enjoyed him and Matthew Mcconaughey on screen together. Along with Samuel L. Jackson and Sandra Bullock. This movie is just fantastic and I normally don't like court dramas. Now what’s also interesting that not only is Donald in this one but so is Keifer. Sadly these two don’t share any scenes together and I don’t think they really got to work on set together except maybe once. Also Keifer’s character is a horrible racist. If anyone gets in your face about confederate flags being “heritage, not hate” show them this movie, Kiefer will take care of that one..

Space Cowboys

And last but not least, possibly my favorite one on this list. Everyone in this movie has the best film dynamic!! It’s funny, it’s endearing, and even kinda sad at times. The whole film feels genuine between all the lead characters, especially with them al being easily over the age of 65. As for Donald, He’s a smooth talking, dirty old man who hits on anything that moves but I’m sorry it just cracks me up. I don’t think this one should be taken too seriously but I just can’t help but fall in love with this movie. Cowboys, Space, Clint Eastwood and Tommy Lee Jones mean-mugging while Donald laughs and chases after women just makes my day.

Okay this one might have been a good bit longer than the last one so the reviews had to be a bit shorter this time. I would do some research for a lot fo the more serious film on these two lists just because I don’t have the time to issue trigger warnings for every film. I may put out a part three, at least I’m going to try to but I’m working 12 hour days lately so I don’t have as much time to watch stuff as I used to but I’m sure some of your guys do. If you’re having trouble finding a film don’t be afraid to let me know and I’ll do my best to hook you up with some *quality* content. I know I’m having a hell of a hard time finding his older credits and the movie Blood Relatives (at least a version in english) Let me know what you guys think, if you agree or disagree with my opinions. Have fun watching!

#Donald Sutherland #still not tagging every movie #I may end up with a dedicated side blog one day who knows #movies #film

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aealzx · 5 years ago

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I heard that you take art requests??? Is there any chance you could do a picture with Xion, Namine, and Aqua all comforting a grieving Kairi that takes place after the ending of KH3?

“Heh, it’s really not that big of a deal,” Kairi tried to decline, but it didn’t work so well considering her red eyes and husky voice.

“Nonesense. My girl has been crying for a few days now I hear. Of course it’s important,” Aqua retorted, pulling one of the spoons out of the ice cream and holding the other offered to Kairi, still in the tub. She ended up taking it, for it was hard to resist this particular ice cream.

Kairi was reluctant to talk for a long stretch, but eventually let up. “It was just a nightmare….,” she started, feeling horribly embarrassed about it.

“Oh? What about? - If you don’t mind me asking,” Aqua asked, not put off at all about that fact. She knew nightmares could be scary, and wasn’t going to scoff at Kairi for that.

The girl was quiet again, but then gave a short answer. “Sora… died,” she admitted, her eyes tearing up a little again.

“Oh….,” Aqua’s shoulders drooped a little. That must have been a pretty bad dream then, she already knew how much Kairi and Sora cared about each other. “…. Wanna talk about it?”

Kairi wasn’t sure, but she ended up sighing. “It was this game. And the ending of the game was horrible. But, in my dream it was Sora instead. So… it’s not really a big deal. But it was still scary. Because…. I feel like that somehow it could still happen,” she admitted, another spoonful of ice cream going into her mouth.

“I see… What w- Wait, was this that one dating simulation game you were playing?” Aqua asked, suddenly making a connection. Kairi gave a nod, and sank into her pillow a little more, hiding her embarrassed blush. “Ohh nooooo, you didn’t name Chisaki after Sora, did you?”

Kairi seemed surprised that Aqua knew anything about the game, but ended up nodding again.

“Ugh, I see. You poor girl,” Aqua sympathized, then wrapped her arm around Kairi to give her a hug.

Kairi blinked in surprise, but returned the hug, if a bit hesitant, while she looked up. “Did you… play the game too?”

“Yeaaaaaah. When it first came out,” Aqua confirmed, rubbing the back of her head. “Did the same thing you did. Ended up crying for days after too, so I get you.”

“….You named Chisaki after Terra?” Kairi asked, a little unsure considering the personalities weren’t all that similar.

“What? No, ew,” Aqua wrinkled her nose a little, looking at Kairi incredulously. She was still wondering why people kept asking if she and Terra were a thing. They only grew up together, sheesh. “Eh…. there was this guy I had a small crush on. His name was Zack, and he asked me out once, but I declined. It didn’t seem to bother him though, so Chisaki made me think of him.”

“Oh….,” Kairi hummed, finding it weird that Aqua had a crush on anyone in her life, or that she did girly things like playing dating simulation games. But then she had a realization. “Wait, Zack? That cop guy that works with Terra?”

“Oh look, the ice cream is disappearing,” Aqua dismissed, making a show of taking the tub of ice cream away.

“Wh- HEY! Give that back,” Kairi protested, getting up to grab at the tub with a laugh.

___________guhhhhhh this was suuuuuch a slow drawing for me |D work is installing a new software and it’s just overload of stuff to do |D so exhausted.

Anyway, let’s be clear that I do NOT take requests in the sense that someone asks me to draw something and I draw that. What I take is just suggestions and prompts that I take and do what I want with. X’DDD And only about stuff I’m already working with. So if someone wants to see me address a certain part of the KH games and translate them into my AU then yeah, I’ll do that. But I’m not gonna draw exact details that people request, I’ll fudge around with it until it fits my AU |DD

The reason for this is that I’m an overworked pancake, and drawing is my way to relax, so I’m pretty selfish when it comes to what I draw. It has to be something I enjoy. And while I would love drawing all the requests I get, the fact is that it is suuuuuper stressful and anxiety freak out for me to draw things for other people. That’s why I don’t do requests, or commissions, or art trades |D sorry

I loooove hearing ideas from other people though, so please feel free to hit me up with any headcanons you have. =u=b

#my art #kingdom hearts #khau #heart transplant au #htau #aqua #kairi #htmcu101 ask

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cravingcrazewriting · 5 years ago

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Hard To Understand {Treebros}

English was a hard language to learn.

Okay, that was an understatement, but when you speak German, already a hard enough language for English speakers to comprehend, they expected you to pull the weight.

Which Evan thought was dumb, but whatever.

The point was that he was in a sort of messy apartment with a single mother who was letting him stay with him, because she was apart of the foster care system and always wanted a kid of her own. She was the most fluent in German and despite having a busy schedule, still would have time for Evan.

He didn't ask why she didn't have any children. He knew better to get into her personal life like that. But he did know was that she was getting remarried to some guy named Paul Heere, who was trying to learn German for Evan's sake. He even had a son himself, named Jeremy or something.

Evan doubted he'd get adopted, because he'd recently just turned seventeen and was nearly an adult. He couldn't be on his own till he was eighteen, though.

Heidi drove him to his first day, which was in the middle of the school year, and that alone made him uncomfortable. She talked to him mainly through German all throughout the car ride, talking about how she wished he'd make new friends and that he'd have a good day.

Evan didn't think either of those options were probable, but he didn't tell Heidi that.

Inside the school, he had to rely on the four years of English knowledge he'd gathered (he wasn't fluent by a long shot) to get his schedule.

"Don't worry, your teachers know you're new so don't fret if you're late," the secretary had told him while handing him a generic schedule that of course, was in English.

He managed to make out that his first period was 'Government', which okay, he supposed he'd have to learn about how the U.S. government works, so it should be interesting.

But Government was a lot harder to understand than Evan gave credit for. It was in general just complicated and had certain regulations he had to follow. Like the draft, for instance, but Evan wasn't a U.S. citizen, didn't know if he'd actually become one, or if Heidi and Paul were willing to adopt him. He had a lot of questions but was too nervous to ask them, so he spent the rest of his first period translating his schedule.

His next class was accounting, which wouldn't be so hard if he didn't have to translate every word problem on his sheet. He'd seriously had been hoping the teacher would at the very least help make sure his translations were correct, but no, they just gave Evan the sheet and went on their way.

The whole day was a hassle, to say the least, and a lot of it was wasted by translating stuff that the teachers should've previously had done for him.

Jared was apparently the son of Heidi's friend, who'd asked him to hang out with Evan. That didn't exactly happen. Jared said hello, that he'd help him to get his mom off of his back, and said some type of insult at a long haired teen walking to presumably a lunch table.

The poor guy was tall and skinny, but that didn't mean he didn't have any form of muscle on him. He had a slight build on him, with long, curly brunette hair waving all around his shoulders. Everything about him was sharp, his face, his eyes, even the shape of his body, but was covered by a soft hoodie, trench coat, and ripped jeans.

Evan could decipher a good majority of what he was saying. He was asking Jared if he wasn't... being funny enough? No, that did not make sense, especially with the angry expression the latter was holding. It was something about a joke, but that was all he got.

Before Jared walked off, he called the guy a freak. Which well, isn't that smart? Leave a foreign exchange student alone with a fully fluent English speaker who probably doesn't know German.

He made a small noise, which could've been mistaken for a laugh, because it was short and nervous.

The taller teen snapped at him, asking what he was laughing about. Evan tried to reason that he wasn't, but all he could really say was 'no, I'm not' over and over until he was shoved into the lockers.

Afterwards, a girl that looked a bit younger than him with long, blonde hair that had faded blue streaks ran to his aid. She was wearing a jean jacket, t shirt, and jeans. She was asking way too many questions for him to decipher, and he was growing closer and closer to a panic attack as it was, so he just scrambled to get up and ran to the bathroom (thankfully the signs were a dead giveaway) to try and calm down. He was just so overwhelmed with everything, and wanted to go home.

The rest of the day didn't get any better. He felt so tired and worn out from lunchtime, and with how much stuff he had to translate, it didn't leave a lot of time to actually get work done. A few teachers already translated the homework for him, which he greatly appreciated.

In his open eighth hour, he began typing out a therapy letter. Heidi had been talking to his new therapist, who apparently recommended that he wrote them. He was meeting with him that day.

Evan vented to Heidi on the phone, speaking fast in his heavy, German accent. He talked about needing to translate everything, how the teachers only understood so much of what he was saying, and how he could barely understand his classmates. Heidi tried to sympathize with him, and assured him Dr. Sherman was one hundred percent fluent in German, which Evan found hard to believe, but he tried to, anyway.

The letter was mainly in German, mostly because it was easier for Evan and it was a test to see if Dr. Sherman wasn't lying. It basically talked about how shitty of a year he was gonna have because no one cared about the German speaking kid, that he was shoved, and that no one would care or notice if he disappeared the next day.

But the tall, dark dressed teen appeared in the lab, his letter in hand.

"I um... I wanted to apologize for earlier," he said, shifting his weight every now and again, "I didn't mean to freak out on you."

"Um," Evan couldn't believe he had to uphold a conversation with the guy who shoved him. "It is okay. I am not mad."

"You're not from around here, right?" That surprised Evan, because no one had really acknowledged it. "I've heard you're from Germany."

Only a few bits and pieces made sense to him, but he got the gist of it. "Yes. That is correct."

"Do you miss it? Germany?" They crossed their arms.

Evan furrowed his brow in thought. "There is... not much to miss. I had..." he suddenly shook his head, "I am in foster care. I have no friends."

The teen's expression fell, "That really sucks. I'm sorry..."

Evan shook his head, not wanting to think about that. "How do you know I come from Germany? What is your name?"

"Word gets around when someone new shows up," again, only bits and pieces, "And I'm Connor."

Evan smiled weakly at him, sort of wanting the conversation to end. "I am Evan. It's nice to meet you, Connor."

"Evan?" The taller teen, Connor, pulled out a sheet of paper. He read the top. "Is this yours? It has your name on it."

"Yes! It's... homework, in a way," Evan took the paper, relieved in the fact that he wrote it in German. It felt private that way. "I am... seeing someone after school... to talk to..." he snapped his fingers as he tried to remember the word.

"A therapist?" Connor offered.

"Yes!" Evan beamed. "You are terrifying!"

Connor suddenly looked like he'd been slapped in the face.

"No! I did not mean that! People are terrifying, not just you! It is..." he trailed off, thinking for a moment, before suddenly remembering the word. "Anxiety! It is what my foster mom calls... social anxiety."

Connor made a face, "I guess that explains a lot."

"And because English is hard," he shrugged sheepishly.

"Um, if you want, I could give you a little help? I know it's probably weird coming from the guy who... pushed you, but maybe I could make it up to you?" Connor offered, smiling weakly.

"Oh," the offer was a surprise to Evan, and despite not wanting to being around Connor a lot, he needed both the help and practice. "Yes. I accept."

Connor set down his satchel and dug through it, before pulling out a pen. "Got something I can write on?"

"Uhh..." he looked at his letter, and handed it to him, not really caring if he wrote on it. Dr. Sherman would be happy to see he got someone's number, at least.

Connor took the letter and wrote in the back of it. He just wrote his number and name. "Text me later so we can arrange a time, okay?"

Evan smiled weakly, taking it back, "Okay."

It was hard at first, getting used to a new situation with someone completely new who hasn't exactly left the best first impression. But Connor was smarter than Evan previously thought, because he was trying to learn German to make things easier for him. There was a lot of miscommunication at first, but slowly, they started to understand each other better and better each day. They even hung out outside of study sessions, either at the park, the old orchard, or Evan's house (Connor didn't want him to go to his house).

What was once a disliking for Connor slowly turned into liking, but evolved into love, and not just the platonic best friend love. Actually in love, with how Connor messed with his hair when he was nervous, or how he'd soften up when he knew Evan was struggling with anxiety or other things. He couldn't help but stare at him unabashedly, whenever the opportunity showed itself, like when Connor faced the opposite direction of him.

That was exactly why he didn't tell him anything. Despite staying with Heidi for almost four months, he was certain she was going to give him up and send him back to Germany. Evan wasn't sure if long distance would even work out. He knew it was hard to, anyways. Plus, he was certain Connor only saw him as a friend.

One day though, when Connor was dropping him off at home, he saw a black car outside his house and paled. It was the same car he'd arrived in when he met Heidi, and was dropped off in. It was a Jeep, he realized, unlike before.

"Evan? What's wrong?" Connor noticed his distress.

"It's- my social worker," he said slowly.

"Why're they here?" He growled at the black colored car parked in front of them.

Evan bit at his lip. "Whenever they come, they are taking me away..."

Connor's hand found Evan's arm and clutched it. "They are not taking away my best friend."

"You do not have a choice..." he muttered, "It is my mom's..."

"We could run away," Connor declared. "They can't take you away if they can't find you."

"They will look for me. I... tried running once. It did not end well," Evan shook his head. "It will not work. I do not want say goodbye but..."

"You're not legally an adult yet. They can still tell you what to do," Connor filled in, looking away.

Evan just nodded sadly. "I do not want to go... I would miss you..."

Connor stayed silent, his hand staying on Evan's arm. He didn't want to let go of him, because if he did, he'd be taken away. Even though it was inevitable, it was ground, saying that was Evan was still there, that he hadn't left just yet.

"We'll have to go eventually," Evan whispered, gazing at the hand on his upper arm.

Connor nodded shortly, a small sign Evan recognized as him being upset. Finding the smallest amount of courage he could muster, he reached over the cup holders and brushed his bangs out of his eyes.

This was enough for Connor to put a hand in his cheek, like he was urging him closer. Call it his imagination, or whatever, but it made the distance between them so small, and it was only getting smaller. Just before it happened, Evan realized they were about to kiss, and despite fearing the fact that they'd be separated, he couldn't help conjoining their lips, letting his worries disappear, even if it was for a moment.

He clutched onto Connor tightly, despite the gentleness of the kiss. He wanted to be even closer to him, to climb onto Connor's lap, or pull him on top of him, something more, but yet at the same time, it was all too much. Connor had moved his hand from his cheek down to his neck, subconsciously stroking Evan's Adam's Apple which make him jump into surprise, but also made him lean into it because it felt so nice. Connor was always so gentle with him, whether it was checking a bruise (Evan was extremely clumsy) or greeting him with a hug after a panic attack, it was welcoming and soothing, but most importantly, not suffocating. The opposite of that, in fact.

They separated and pressed their foreheads together, panting as they began to catch their breaths.

The most fantastic part?

Connor's hand never left Evan's arm. Not once.

"That was- amazing," Evan shut his eyes, refusing to move even an inch. It was like the magic of that moment would shatter if he shifted even just a bit.

"You- you liked that?" Connor sounded surprised, and when Evan opened his eyes again, Connor was staring back at him.

"I like you, Connor. A lot. More than just best friends do," he insisted, meeting Connor's gaze.

"Good," He let out a shaky breath, "Cause I do, too."

Despite the situation, Evan began to laugh. How ironic everything was, and how it was about to be ripped away from him, and he could only laugh and cry because it just wasn't fair. He finally had Connor, but he was about to loose him.

"What's so funny," Connor squeezed his arm, his voice laced with worry.

Evan shook his head, tears falling from his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. "We have spent- f-far too long just... liking each other from a distance, when we could've gotten together sooner... We could've had more time together as... something more."

Connor brushed away some of the big, blotchy tears from his cheeks, despite more escaping. "Hey. I'm not gonna give up that easily. I still want to be with you, and I'm more than willing to do long distance if you are."

Evan sniffled, "I... I don't know, Connor. Long distance usually does not work, and there's so much for us to loose."

Connor smiled weakly. "What's there to loose? We can make it work."

"Du bist meine Welt," Evan whispered shakily.

Connor paused, and licked his lips. "I... I don't know what that means..."

"You are my world," he repeated, running a hand through Connor's wild, messy hair. "I admit that I didn't actively try to make friends... I saw no point, especially knowing that I could be taken at a minutes notice. But you... you forced your way in, and filled an empty place in my life I didn't know I needed. I know you might forget me, but... I won't forget you."

He quickly leans over and pecked his cheek, before moving to give another to his jaw. "You're fucking insane if you think I'll forget you," he muttered against his skin.

Evan laughed, "I always thought I was non important. Glad to be proven wrong, though."

Connor pulled away, and the space was aching. He pulled out the car keys reluctantly.

Evan began to move at last. "We, we should go..."

When they exited the car, Connor briefly released his arm, but once they were side to side, he curled his fingers around Evan's. He held onto Connor tightly, because it was probably the last time they'd be there, side to side. The ironic thing was is that he was never told when he was being taken away. The social worker showed up, said, "It's time to go.", and Evan would pack up all his things and go (he was a fast packer).

He was already trembling by the time he was inside. The social worker, with long brown hair, dressed in all black, was talking to Heidi, having her sign some forms. She turned around and smiled at Evan.

"Was ist los? Soll ich meinen Koffer nehmen?" Evan asked her, fidgeting with his hands.

"Nein, heute ist ein besonderer Tag," she smiled.

"Worüber redest du?" He looked up at her.

"You are being adopted," she stated, looking back at Heidi, who nodded.

Evan stares, mouth agape. "Wha- r-really? But you... don't have much time with me..."

"That doesn't matter to me," Heidi shook her head, smiling. "With how much time we've spent together proves that you're apart of this family."

"Wait, what was that other stuff?" Connor walked over, raising an eyebrow.

"I asked if I needed my suitcase, but she said no, because today was special. When I asked why, she uh, well you know what she said," Evan clarified.

Connor started to smile. "So you're staying?"

"I am. Like it or not," Evan desperately wanted to grab Connor's hand, but he still didn't know what they even were. They didn't exactly have time beforehand to discuss it, and they thought he was leaving, as well.

"I do like it, though," Connor smirked ever so slightly.

"Even though we are both hard to understand?"

"We find our own ways, Ev. I can usually find some way to figure out what you're trying to stay."

Evan just nodded in silent agreement, taking his hand at last, because how was he supposed to argue with that?

#dear evan hansen #evan hansen #connor murphy #deh #treebros #connor #evan #convan #jared kleinman #german #forgein speaker #transfer student

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monicalorandavis · 5 years ago

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I saw ‘Knives Out’ a week ago and I’m still reeling

I saw ‘Knives Out’ a week ago and I’m still reeling. This movie is fun and I simply won’t talk to anyone who disagrees! I don’t want to argue about its merits. It’s good.

Your issue is, I presume, an issue with what the film says about the upper class. Go on, sympathize for the horrible, rich family that represents all that is ugly with America. Feel bad for the racist gargoyles who are equal parts human and checking account. These people are snobs. They are snob dumpster fires and if you didn’t have fun roasting them then you and I are on different sides of the war.

What war you ask? I guess I’ll call it the culture war (though that’s not really it). I’m talking about the current (unannounced) civil war between those who think Trump is getting unfairly maligned and us, the ones who are looking back on this shameful era ten years down the line, explaining to our kids what the fuck happened in 2019. This is bad. Art should make fun of us. Our obsession with fame and fortune has gotten us into global laughing stock territory. So let’s allow for art to poke fun as the bullshit of America. Art should be a reflection of our ugly parts. We all must look in the mirror when we try on a bathing suit. This is that. I choose not to place blame on the world for my muffin top. It’s funny. I’m gonna still have fun with this muffin, and this film, even if it doesn’t make me feel amazing. Laughing at yourself exorcises the demons. We still need art to encourage our spiritual progress. Don’t be such a stick in the mud.

So, now that I’ve sorted that out, the film...

It’s good.

Now let’s focus on the acting which is, arguably, always my favorite part of any movie.

Didn’t we all revel in the Yosemite Sam impression Daniel Craig was doing with New Orleans private investigator, Benoit Blanc? Wasn’t Lakeith Stanfield playing the slightly oblivious police detective while his partner fangirled over Christopher Plummer a treat?

It was.

In a society so obsessed with celebrity, it was especially delightful to watch the investigators reckon with people who simply did not believe they had to play by the rules. They don’t have to partake in police questioning. They have people for that!

Only, they do have to partake in police questioning and their lack of experience in dealing with authority figures, like the police, made them particularly horrible witnesses. They quite enjoyed a wonderfully anonymous type of wealth, free from press and the quotidian boredom of bosses, day jobs, rules...you get it. The Thrombey’s do not handle inconvenience very well.

As a result, we delight in their misfortune. This move dripped with Agatha Christie meets Succession realness. Plus subtle notes of Rupaul’s Drag Race camp.

Yes, I admit, Benoit Blanc is no Hercule Poirot. All these mystery purists coming for ‘Knives Out’ best fall back with those comparisons because it’s simply unfair. Christie’s number one Belgian is too good for mere mortals to emulate. And Daniel Craig tried very, very hard to give you an iconic detective character. Was it goofy and weird? Yes. Let’s all agree to move on.

And the moving on is a larger lesson here. Because only when you surrender to this film does it reveal all its gifts to you. Once you stop comparing it to all the other stories you hold so dear does it grow into its own animal. It’s a mystery for the age in which we find ourselves. I will not slander the p.c. police because, hell, I’m sort of one of them. Social justice warrior is not an insult that rustles my feathers. Interestingly, this film joins the SJW’s alongside the Stephen Miller’s of the world. White privilege is white privilege. And, unfortunately, the Thrombey’s, both young and old, liberal and conservative, are victims of their privilege. So blind to the plight of others, they can not help but make themselves the heroes of their own story. And people don’t like the thought that they, like the film’s youngest SJW of the family, Katherine Langford, could be part of the problem. And yet, she is. She so is.

Langford delivers a knockout performance of Taylor Swift-level white feminism that is so 2019 and clueless that I imagine many people even missed the joke.

Along those same lines, Chris Evans is the playboy, black sheep of the family who seems misunderstood and sexy but, spoiler alert, is just conniving and sexy.

Both performances were stellar and so deeply entrenched in modern white identity politics that if you’re not paying attention you might assume that their characters are just your standard rich villains. Nay. These are the “good white people” who are behaving badly. These are the white people who donate to charities and hire undocumented workers like Ana de Armas’ character, Marta. They are people who listen to rap music and love ‘Insecure’ and took an African-American studies class in college. And yet, they demand attention and emotional labor from the (employed) people around them. They distort proximity with closeness and try to lure Marta into their world. But she always knows better. For whatever reason, she can not trust these people, even before Harlan’s death.

Rian Johnson directs with a certain je ne sais quoi. Call it a ‘BDE’ that I would not expect from such a dweeby looking dweeb. Yes, ‘Knives Out’ has a fun enough story. But it really shows the fuck out is with its performances. Holy moly. No small roles, only small actors, as the saying goes. Yet in the case of ‘Knives Out’ you will find neither. Everybody is a god damn star. You should know that I stan Chris Evans but, as it turns out, this film begs you to worship its entire cast. So I did.

‘Knives Out’ is a star-making performance for Ana de Armas. If you hadn’t heard, de Armas garnered a Golden Globe nod and it is well-deserved. Armas’ Marta is a nuanced, funny, sensitive, conspirator in a plot that could’ve isolated the audience but instead put us smack dab in the middle of a moral quagmire.

Only the best actors can pull this off. Lesser actors have us turn against them while they flounder. Marta’s role in the family drama is as an outsider. In spite of their insistence that she is one of them, she keeps her distance, only clinging to Harlan. She fell for Chris Evans’ charms briefly, and I applaud Rian Johnson for avoiding a romance between the two (we didn’t need it) and focusing instead on the emotional betrayal. Marta was a woman with her head screwed on straight. In spite of her, possible, nursing fumbles she was the only kind person Harlan had in his life. She would never risk her loyalty to him by engaging in some foolishness with Chris Evans’ hunky ass.

And I repeat, I don’t care about your thoughts regarding inheritance. It is silly to contest that Marta deserved nothing less than the full sum of the fortune (*spoiler*). She deserved everything. She deserved an existence in this country free from citizenship anxiety. She deserved a partner who loved her. She deserved a friend who didn’t kill himself to save her ass. Least of all, she deserved Chris Evans’ character to be better. But, he was a product of his shitty family. How could he be better?

Three names: Jamie. Lee. Curtis. I need her in at least seven to twelve projects in the coming year. She is a stand out among stand outs. She serves up the quintessential performance of a cold-hearted bitch that is so likeable that I will patiently await the spin-off. I need to know where her Linda Drysdale is now. If anyone in the family was able to land on their feet it was Linda. We all know it.

Linda was the only Thrombey child who had the guts to make it without a handout. Her loser husband, played by the ever-handsomer Don Johnson, was practically useless. Her loser brother, played by the unusually diminutive Michael Shannon, was the same. Her sister in law, played by the illustrious Toni Collette, had her head so far up her own ass that even Gwyneth Paltrow would blush.

Poor Linda. She was surrounded by idiots. I hope she’s doing ok.

And now, we’re at the end. I’ve tried my best to avoid any horrible spoilers. But I’ve also taken a deep dive into SJW’s so I might’ve gotten off track along the way...

In any event, this movie is good. And I can’t wait to see it again.

#knives out #christopher plummer #ana de armas #jamie lee curtis #don johnson #rian johnson #lakeith stanfield #mystery #agatha christie #hercule poirot #daniel craig

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eponymous-rose · 6 years ago

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This isn’t a post I really wanted to make, and I feel kind of shitty making it because parts of it aren’t my story to tell, but not talking about it isn’t working, so hey. Weirdly comforting internet void, please don’t reblog this.

There’s discussion of mental illness below, but not (directly) firsthand. This is mainly discussion of the impact mental illness is having on my family. Please avoid this post if this is a topic that is likely to cause you pain or discomfort. I think I just need to have it out there.

About a year ago, my brother was diagnosed with Bipolar I. His seeking out a diagnosis was the direct result of the way his mental health was horrifically mismanaged when he lived in the US in his late teens: he was misdiagnosed as schizophrenic and, a few months later, a pharmacy error cut him off anti-psychotics cold turkey. It was absolutely horrible, and he wound up leaving school and moving back in with my parents for a time just to recover. That diagnosis was still on file for him almost a decade later, but recently his job finally had decent enough benefits that he could afford to go in for a barrage of psychiatric testing to rule things out. Bipolar I wound up being the diagnosis that fit.

And I think, for him, there was a sense of relief that came from that initial diagnosis, because a lot of things started to fit. Our immediate family is very close and very loving, but also almost comically controlled and disciplined and logical and isolated. As a kid, he would frequently spiral over something small (I clearly remember being baffled by the fact that my teenage brother would still have full-on tantrums), and my parents and I would just be staring wide-eyed in silence because strong emotion??? what do????? He was comforted and loved, and outright tells us all the time that he loves us and feels really lucky to have had such a supportive family, but I can’t help feeling like we were just... overwhelmed by inertia and kept thinking “this is probably healthier and more normal than the way we repress our emotions”.

I suspected depression was always there, and I’d reached out to him a little about that based on my own experiences, but mania hadn’t even occurred to me, even when he was sending us e-mails at 5 AM about the new opera he stayed up all night writing. It’s incredible what starts to feel like normal when you’re in denial like that.

Regardless, that’s where we were last year: he called us up when I was visiting my parents and we chatted for about an hour about what we all knew about this illness and how he’d be going forward. We all assured him that we loved him a lot and were here for him in whatever way he needed us.

And then, in typical us fashion, we repressed it. My dad yelled at a server out of nowhere for bringing the wrong drink that afternoon; this is the most empathetic man I know, who’s raised his voice maybe three times in my life that I can remember (he called the server over afterwards to apologize and tipped hugely for having to put up with him). My mom’s anxiety spiked. I stopped sleeping well. It took us a few months to realize we were all struggling because we were so worried.

My brother tried a few different meds, none of which had a really strong impact. We all got together for the holidays, and when he arrived, he was furious in a way that felt familiar, like back in high school when he’d be so angry it was like he wasn’t fully in control of his body, wasn’t hearing the things he was saying. It was weirdly a bit of a relief, because I realized then how much he must have been putting on an act before: after high school, he’d always been extremely quiet and positive every single time I talked to him (always for short visits with big chunks in between). He was finally comfortable not being perfect around us.

The precipitating factor for this particular blow-up was one of his coworkers e-mailing him and asking for one more article even though he was on holidays: dick move, sure, but in no way deserving of flinging his luggage around and teary-voiced ranting at the restaurant we took him to for dinner. We made sure he knew he was being heard and understood, and we sympathized with him, and we set up an hour that evening so he could just sit quietly in his room and work out how he was going to reply to the e-mail. And then things were fine again. He told us stories about how great that same coworker was the next day.

My parents stayed at an airbnb, mainly because my place is a little small for four, and he and I stayed here and just had a wonderful time. I realized how much I’d built things up in my head in a worrying way: this was still my brother, who I love very much, who’s sensitive and feels things deeply and sometimes gets upset, but I knew how to talk to him and I hope I could help him feel better; he certainly helped me feel better. We watched old cartoons and played NBA on the Switch and got milkshakes and ordered in pad thai and had a fantastic time just chilling and talking about whatever crossed our minds. I never once felt nervous or weird around him in the three weeks we were here, and I very clearly remember thinking, “Hey, future self, remember how natural this felt next time you’re catastrophizing: this is one of the few people in the world you’d happily have as a roommate.” We get along so, so well, and some of the new initial tension between him and my parents (that awkward combination of “well-meaning” and “absolutely out of their depths” made for a couple of baffled moments before they hit their stride) just never bled through to our friendship.

It came out during that trip that he’d accrued some pretty hefty credit card debt (overspending being an extremely common thing when you’re in a manic phase... and also in your twenties living alone in a big city when a big chunk of your job involves socializing every night); my parents very calmly and supportively told him they’d help him pay it off on the condition that he cut up those cards and take a serious look at the gaps in his budget. He was more embarrassed than anything, but my mom’s no-nonsense, logical attitude broke through and soon they were happily sitting down and setting up a budget.

He went back home, and things started getting worse. His landlord was an asshole who wouldn’t let him and his roommate control the heating and insisted on controlling it from off-site, so he’d come home to a sweltering apartment every night and couldn’t sleep. He took a sleeping pill to help him get some rest, and that triggered a major depressive episode. Through a series of accidental events (mainly getting stuck on hold with a crisis line for 45 minutes and calling 911 out of desperation), he wound up getting picked up by the cops one night and brought to a mental hospital, which he said wasn’t his intention, but he was glad it happened in the long run (the hospital, not the cops, obvs).

He was only there for one night, after which point they set him up with a social worker and amazing outpatient care, including psychiatrist visits every week and a new set of mood stabilizing meds, and I cannot stress enough that this would have been a much shorter story if he’d lived in the US. With my parents’ help, he wrote a letter to his landlord threatening to go to the city if he didn’t fix the heating situation, and his landlord caved (thank goodness, because there’s no way he’d be able to pay rent anywhere else in that city). Things stabilized, a little.

Now, though, it looks like he may lose his job. He disclosed his illness right after the diagnosis, and after some initial missteps, they started putting in effort to work with him on it---in my brother’s e-mails to us, the HR person went from an obnoxious jerk to a determined ally, if only to avoid liability issues. But on his new meds, while he feels great in the mornings, he’s exhausted by the afternoon, and he often has minor depressive episodes in the evenings, so clearly the dose isn’t right yet. He’s up to missing a couple days of work a week, and they’re clearly trying to lean on him to switch to contract work so they can let him go without running afoul of legal protections. It doesn’t help that what started as a wide-open, exciting startup (he still says the first eight months were his dream job) has turned into an ad revenue-grabbing mechanism where all his colleagues are white homophobic tech bros who ignore him at best and resent his “special treatment” at worst.

A lot of his friends happened to move away around the time of his diagnosis as well, and now a lot of his remaining friends are distancing themselves. A common factor in his last few jobs toward the end was people telling him, “You just looked miserable all the time,” and it sounds like it’s starting to impact his personal relationships. His time online is spent in the deepest of “cancel culture” discussion, where being mostly good but fucking up once is almost more reprehensible than being wholly awful (he quit Facebook for a while, but wound up reopening his account to let people know about his hospitalization... and now he’s just back there again). He and his boyfriend broke up. His friend who initially suggested he apply for this job now ignores him at work.

It’s that awful combo of “people are being assholes about my illness” and “my illness makes it hard to believe that someone who initially reacts poorly will ever come around, so I’d better shove them away first”.

My parents are understandably so worried for him. They’re going out to visit him for three weeks starting tomorrow, staying at an airbnb nearby and occupying themselves with their own retirement pursuits so he can come visit if he likes, or ignore them if he needs space. They’ve told him that, if he’d like, he’s welcome to come stay with them for a few months (they live on the other side of the country); they’ll cover his half of the rent while he’s gone, and he’ll have a bit of an opportunity to just heal, considering he went straight back to work the day after his hospitalization. They’ll also help him strategize about whether he wants to switch to part-time on his current job and see about picking something else up. I suggested they bring up the possibility of going back for a master’s---I know it’s an absolute minefield for mental health, but in his particular case, a flexible schedule plus project-based creative work with specific deadlines has always been a pretty good fit, and he excels academically.

They’re also preparing for the possibility of moving him out to stay with them on a more permanent basis, but they obviously don’t want to disrupt his care (his current appointments are at the best mental health facilities in the country). They can’t afford to live in his city on their pension, but they’re also talking about giving up their retirement condo and buying out his roommate’s half of the rent, and just being there to help him out when he needs it. I don’t think he’d go for that unless things really deteriorated quickly, but a few months away from the city definitely sounds like what he needs.

And I’m just... so angry. I’m pissed off that so much of the stress weighing on him (and so many others!) right now comes from him being nearly 30, in debt, without a hint of a way to start saving for retirement, with these little one- or two-year gig jobs with two-hour commutes full of toxic people stretching out into eternity. I’m pissed off that this awful disease has made it so my parents probably aren’t in a place where they’re going to be able to do their big retirement trip, and they may be giving up their idyllic retired life for good. I’m angry with myself for that little burrowing resentment that, because my parents are older, I could wind up a financial, medical, and emotional caretaker for them and/or my brother at a moment’s notice, and I don’t feel ready to take all of that on. I’ll never feel ready.

(As a bonus, bipolar I has a genetic component, and now I’m thinking back to that one time I stayed up all night determined to save the world by learning all of biology in eight hours, or the time when as a grown-ass adult I started crying like a ten-year-old because I felt left out from an activity friends were doing, and I’m thinking, is this it? And then it’s not those extremes, it’s every normal human emotion that was previously muted by my own situational depression years ago. Is this it?)

I feel so, so entitled to the life we should have had as a family, and so frustrated at all these external factors that’ve brought it crashing down. More than anything, I’m scared for my little brother. I know bipolar isn’t something that magically disappears, and that things are likely to get worse, but I want those external stressors to go away and just leave him alone for half a minute so he can heal and find the right combination of meds and maybe, maybe get to think about thriving rather than just surviving. I’m so grateful to my parents for finding the right things to do and say to help him recover. And I know that, if something goes horribly wrong, I can try to fill those shoes.

I’m still losing sleep, but only every now and then. People at work occasionally comment that I don’t look so good, but that’s much rarer than a couple months ago, and the people I’ve confided in are very kind and check in on me even when things seem to be going well.

After the move this fall, I’m going to find someone to talk to professionally about this. In the meantime, just typing this all out makes me feel a bit better. I am finding better ways to cope; I had to mute him on social media because my overwhelming tendency to overthink his posts was very dangerous (turns out that famous self-deprecating millennial sense of humor is terrifying when you’re trying to work out if someone’s in danger). I have a generally positive attitude about this, and I can now usually catch myself when I’m starting to spiral. I send my brother goofy links, and he sends me funny stuff in return. I’m going for runs and eating better and playing video games and hanging out with friends...

... and I’m genuinely very happy a majority of the time (not just content, but happy), which wasn’t true even a couple months ago.

I’m scared and angry and coming to grips with it being okay to be both of those things, as long as I’m also supportive and loving. This is my little brother. This is my family. They’re the best.

And all we can do is take it one day at a time.

#(no reblogs yes thank you)#eponymous family tag #mental health ///

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redvelvetreel · 6 years ago

Text

Red Velvet Reel 9.1: Blue Ain’t (Usually) My Color

[Fic Directory]

Pairing: [Married] Spicyhoney (Underfell Papyrus x Underswap Papyrus)

Summary: Stretch feels terrible over that whole death-will debacle, and seeks solace from his brother and brother-in-law. He ends up with a little comfort and a lot of knowledge.

Characters: Stretch (Underswap Papyrus) & Red (Underfell Sans) & Blue (Underswap Sans)

Contains: Mpreg/Skelepreg! Monster pregnancy headcanons, including sympathetic pregnancy symptoms! Mood Swings! Coffee Shops!

Rating: Teen and up! (I guess?)

Note: If I were a painter, I wouldn’t change you- just paint you bright. ‘Cause Blue looks good on the sky Looks good on that neon buzzin’ on the wall But darlin’ It don’t match your eyes -- "Blue Ain’t Your Color" by Keith Urban

Stretch had literally been outside the other day, but something about today seemed magical. The air was cool but not biting, not quite time to break out the terrible winter sweaters... but soon. The leaves were gold and red, most of them still attached to the tree-but the ones on the ground still crunched delightfully under his shoes. Too bad he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to enjoy it. Forcing down another sigh, Stretch made his way to the coffee shop across the street. Mt. Ebbot Coffee Co. Store # 6. He had never been to this one before, but store #4 had Austin the Barista who changed his hair color every other week. Maybe this store also had someone who would be willing to pour sprinkles in his coffee, too. Stretch smiled to himself, feeling a little bit better. Actually, a lot better! Sprinkles and coffee were a delicious combination! He was going to have delicious sprinkles coffee with his brother and his brother-in-law, and they were- He jumped when he heard tapping on the window, looking over his shoulder to find... Red. Face pressed against the glass, tongue lolling out of his mouth like a toddler. Was it on the window? Gross. Edge would have thrown a fit- The guilt started up immediately, and he felt bad again. Like really, really bad. Stretch did his best to smile at the baristas, but it felt half-hearted as he made his way to the corner booth. Red was already back in his seat, back flush against the wall with an unobstructed view of the entire establishment. Blue was sitting across from him like a more normal monster. Ugh, that was mean- less paranoid monster. “What’cha mad at, Honey?”

“Me. Myself. I.” He slid into the space next to Blue, leaning most of his body weight on his brother. Blue just held him tight, probably a little worried. Great. “I’m just a huge fuckup and I don’t know how to stop being bad at everything.”

“That’s not true!” Blue gave him a squeeze, only letting go to slide a big Frappuccino in front of him. It was absolutely covered in sprinkles. “You’re good at many things! Why don’t you have a drink-“

“Ya ‘n Edge fightin’ or somethin’?” Red got even more abrasive when he was genuinely concerned, and the table shook with the force of his punch. “The hell ya do this time, huh?!”

“Shut UP, Red!” Blue kicked the other skeleton under the table, “Maybe Edge did something to him!”

“I...” Where did he even start to answering these question? “I don’t know,” he answered honestly, pressing his cheekbone against the top of his brother’s head, “We’ve argued and fought before, but this feels different.”

He tightened his hold around his brother, staring at the wood, “Like, really bad, really off different. It’s weird- I don’t like it, it’s not like we’re fighting-fighting but it’s not like we’re on stellar terms either. It’s maybe neither of our faults and both of our faults, but I’m not sure. I don’t know how to fix it. All I know is that I don’t want Edge walking on eggshells around me...”

“If it was Papy’s fault, why would Edge be cautious around him?” Blue asked Red pointedly, but in a moment he was back to being coddling, gently rubbing Stretch’s back in concerned affection, “What happened? Is that why he’s not here today?”

“No, and it was kinda my fault too. I overreacted. I left him at home because he was still sleeping.” He shrugged half-heartedly, “He’s been... really sleepy lately. I’m kinda worried-”

Red snorted like he was holding back a laugh, “Pancake’s a greedy bastard, huh? Like their Daddy.”

“It’s-” Yeah, ok, Soulings did need a lot of magic. “Fine, it’s probably a pregnancy thing, but we’re going to the doctor on Thursday, just in case.” He held up a hand, “Anyway, that’s not the point- I left him a note on the dresser, and then I realized I forgot my reward card. But I guess by that time Edge though I left, ‘cause then I could hear him talking with someone on speaker. It was Comic. He was... asking him for advice about missing home...”

“Oh.” Blue patted his back consolingly, sympathizing politely even if it was clear he didn’t quite understand the issue. “I’m sorry, Papy. Sometimes it’s good for monsters to vent to a neutral third party, though. It’s better than bottling it up, right? Maybe Edge didn’t want to talk to you about it because he didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“Yeah...” Blue made some good points and it sounded reasonable enough. Edge was probably being conscientious, but... “But he’s supposed to talk to me about these things, isn’t he? Am I a bad husband, if he doesn’t feel like he can talk with me freely or directly? Can he not trust me?” Stretch lowered his voice, soul feeling unbearably heavy, “Does that mean he’s unhappy here? Unhappy with me? If he misses Underfell, doesn’t that mean he wants to go back? What if-“

“S’fine.” Red had little patience for tact or diplomacy, rough and painfully dismissive. “Wouldn’t a done speaker if he ain’t wantcha to hear. S’reassurin’ ya he’s dealin’ with that saudade bullshit. S’always been heart over brains for ‘im. He’ll get over it.“

“But-“ Stretch frowned, feeling less reassured, “That’s not-“

“Don’t’cha worry, Honey bunch. I’ll straightin’ yer hubby out.” Red cracked his knuckles in an obvious show of bravado, smile sharp and confident, “S’gotten too touchy-feely, but ain’t nothin’ a nice lil’ chat can’t fix.“

“I don’t want that!” Stretch wasn’t sure how he felt about Red’s flippancy- relieved his worst fears were being disproved, or annoyed Edge’s feelings were being dismissed? “I don’t want Edge to be secretly miserable! I want him to be happy! Not just pretend to be happy for my sake-“

The corners of his eye sockets burned unpleasantly, and he rubbed at them irritably, “I never meant to force him to come here- I would have been just as happy to stay with him in Underfell! But he-“ His voice hitched miserably, shoulders shaking as his brother held him. “I don’t want him to hate me! I didn’t mean to ruin his life!”

“The hell’s wrong with ya?!” Red was wide-eyed, hands hovering nervously like he wanted to slap or shake Stretch. “The fuck ya talkin’ about?! Why the fuck ya bawlin’?!”

“Papy.” Stretch couldn’t even shrug before Blue was pulling him closer, tucking his face against his chest like he was in stripes again. It should have been embarrassing, but it was actually incredibly soothing. “Edge doesn’t hate you, and he doesn’t think you ruined his life. It just seems like it because the parentMOOD is amplifying your anxiety.”

Stretch felt disoriented and confused, blinking at his brother blearily, “Huh?”

“I’m not saying your feelings aren’t real or anything- I just want you to know that it’s Pancake making everything seem more intense and extreme.” Blue’s tone was calm and patient, and although he let Stretch pull away, he kept a supportive hand on his back.

“This?” Stretch patted at his cheeks, surprised to find them just a little damp. He had forgotten to be upset, too focused on Blue’s comfort and being confused. “This is my parentMOOD starting? I’m not just being unnaturally overdramatic?”

“You’re being naturally sensitive!” All expecting parents go through this, so there’s no reason to be ashamed.

“The fuck ya about, huh?!” Red looked agitated and unsure, “Brat ain’t even here- they ain’t even born!” He clutched the table hard enough his claws dug into the plastic guard, nervous in a way Stretch wasn’t used to seeing, “Ya been cursed or somethin’?! Is Edge?!”

“No! No, we’re fine- I’m just, uh, it’s a sympathetic pregnancy symptom,” Stretch cleared his throat, looking away from that strangely vulnerable expression. He had to force down the sudden urge to comfort Red, since he was sure his brother-in-law would probably bite him if he tried. Biology was so weird. “Monster babies are made from pieces of both their parents souls, right?”

Red finally nodded, hesitantly,

“Since monsters are their souls, and Pancake’s claimed a piece of mine, then it makes sense I get zapped by some side effects, too.” He tried very very hard to keep his tone even, to not give into the urge to start babying his brother-in-law, “Can’t have one parent shouldering the whole thing, right?”

“Fine, fine, no curse-“ Red moved his hand impatiently, still restless and annoyed, “So? What’s a fuckin’ parentMOOD?”

“It’s what monsters call these extreme mood swings.” Blue sighed, leaning on the table, “Basically, the non-pregnant partner becomes super emotional and reacts disproportionately to every little thing. Like, they’ll cry if they’re sad over a movie, or smother you if they’re worried about you. It’s not always as pronounced as Pa- uh, Stretch’s case, something about physiology.”

Stretch knew Blue was talking generally, but that criticism still stung. Was he being overly emotional? Blue just told him it was fine! Besides, it didn’t feel like he was disproportionately reacting to anything- and he certainly wasn’t smothering.

“It’s biological,” Stretch muttered sulkily, crossing his arms over his chest as he sank down, “Sympathetic and empathetic partners mean better care for the pregnant parent! Better care for the pregnant parent means a healthier, happier Souling- so I am being a good Dad!”

“Of course you are, Papy! You’re going to be a great Papa!” Blue patted his brother’s arm indulgently, giving Red a meaningful look from across the table, “You should finish your coffee before it gets too cool.”

“Oh! Right!” Stretch took a cautious sip, but it was lukewarm at best. Ah well. Still delicious!

“So...” Red rubbed at his face aggressively, speaking slowly, “Back up. Yer mood swings’ makin’ ya scared Edge’s gonna leave ya fer Underfell? Ok. So… why ya tellin’ us? Whatcha want us to do ‘bout it, Honey?”

“Obviously a little R&R- Reassurance and Relief!” Blue looked proud, although Stretch hadn’t actually thought about it that way, “You want me to comfort you, and Red to tell you what Edge is probably planning and thinking, right?”

“Ye-“ Stretch started to say, before stopping himself and frowning, “No? I don’t know? But that sounds really nice.” He turned his most pathetic, helpless pleading expression to his brother-in-law, “Pretty, pretty please?”

“Look.” Red grit through his teeth, holding his hands out on the table stiffly. Stretch recognized that gesture as Underfellese for ‘all cards on the table with nothing up my sleeve.’

“I ain’t know everythin’ in Edge’s empty-ass skull, ‘n he’s real fuckin’ shunsho sometimes,” Red sighed irritably, glaring at Stretch like he was personally responsible for that, “But he fuckin’ sucks at keepin’ his feelin’s quiet. He’ll do shit he ain’t wanna do if he gotta, but he bitches ‘n moans ‘n acts up the whole. Goddamn. Time.”

Stretch smiled at that, rubbing his wedding band fondly. He wouldn’t have put it in those terms, but yeah. Red was right.

“Ya think Edge’d be here if he didn’t want to? Ya think I’d be here if he wasn’t serious ‘bout him wanna being here?” Red wrenched his hands back to grab Stretch by the front of his hoodie, giving him a shake so hard something rattled loudly. Guilt didn’t have a chance to settle before he was being shaken like a maraca again. “Ain’t no goin’ back to Underfell, anyway! Fuckin’ told ya: Edge’s yer problem now, ‘n ain’t no takebacks!“

“But is he happy?” Stretch could read between the lines, but implication was different from confirmation. “How do you know-“

“Ya real so goddamn shunsho!” Red started cursing unintelligibly, “Why ya askin’ that, huh?” Stretch didn’t have time to answer before Red gave him another hard shake. “‘Course he’s happy! Dumbass!”

Red shoved him backwards, and it was only Blue’s quick reaction time that kept his skull from smacking into the wood.

“Even in Underfell y’ain’t gonna get no Soulin’ without love in yer heart fer yer partner!” There was an unusually friendly quality to that sharp smile. A lot like a shark might look at a fish it was about to eat. “If yer hubby’s outta sorts, s’cause yer freakin’ him out.”

[ Part 1 - Here! ] [ Part 2 ] [ Part 3 ]

#spicyhoney #underswap papyrus #underswap sans #underfell sans #skelepreg #redvelvetreel #fanfic

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themalicealyce · 6 years ago

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Sarcasm and Puns: Chapter Three

Summary: You're an introverted person, have been all of your life but it wasn't as if you were shy, you were just content to have your only friends be your brother and your roommate. Though when your brother's young daughter makes friends with the human ambassador of monsters you open up to the idea of having a larger group of friends.

Rating” M for language, anxiety, adult themes, and possible future sexual content.

The sun rose, sluggishly peeking out above the horizon, muddled through the dull grey mess of muted colors that made up the city. Rays of its glaring white-gold light streamed persistently even through the thin drapes that were haphazardly closed to cover your window. The light that poured in from the gaps striped across the room blindingly, hitting your eyes. Any noise that you would have heard, from birds outside to the sounds of neighbors drifting through the walls of your apartment building were drowned out by your phone alarm that blared loudly from the pocket of last night's jeans. The combination of stimuli forcibly pulled you from sleep. Morning came all too quickly, as you knew it would considering you had only given yourself a couple hours to sleep, still you groaned groggily pulling the blanket over your head in a vain attempt to will it away so you could stay cocooned in your warm nest of a bed.

The shrill, digital chirps of your alarm won out and you couldn't listen to them any longer. You forced yourself to get up and silence its insistent beeping, your sudden movement waking Hemlock. You spared him an apologetic look as you grabbed the pants, prying the phone out of the pocket to glare at the time. You loved your job, the only drawback was having to start at such an early hour. You used to work the afternoon shift but switched over so you could leave around the same time your niece got out of school. It was definitely helpful since your brother's hours were much more sporadic than your own. There was no doubt you weren't the type of person that rose with the sun, more like a night owl, and now you had to get to work shortly after the mall opened every morning. You had never gone through more coffee than you have since starting the morning shift. The thought of coffee was what got you moving, if you were quick you could make coffee on your way to the studio.

You showered and rushed through your morning routine tying your hair back in a messy ponytail and getting dressed in the closest clean work clothes you could find. Quickly checking yourself in the mirror, straightening the white button up and black vest you wore for you job before throwing a heavy jacket on over them and tossing on a pair of boots. You slid your phone into your pocket and grabbed your messenger bag, slinging it over one shoulder before leaving your room to feed Hemlock and grab your keys from the counter. Glancing across the counter you found the coffee maker a huge mess and you scrunched your nose up in distaste. You had neither the time nor willpower to clean that and brew yourself coffee. You sighed, deciding if you hurried maybe you could stop at that little café you liked on the way to the mall.

Making your way through the living room you saw Vincent curled up on the sofa after having finally crashed, sleeping with his laptop abandoned nearby. The tv still flickered, but long since forgotten. You switched it off and went through the mental checklist in your head one last time before heading off in search of a good cup of coffee.

With the sun rising a little higher and the world around you slowly waking up, you stopped at the small brick coffee house that had quickly become your favorite. Briefly checking the time, you pushed the door open and saw the place was predictably scarce, just barely beginning to pick up traffic of people heading to work. You did however see a small monster with orange skin and incredibly large eyes that stared intensely down at the floor. They were in a chair that was pressed up against the wall by the door, you looked at them for a moment in curiosity because they looked so lost and troubled.

When you first heard them mumble you thought you'd been caught looking and offended them until you registered the words "I came in here for a coffee but I forgot my wallet... So, I'm just going to sit in this corner and pretend I'm waiting for someone." Your first instinct was to laugh even though you sympathized with the awkwardness of their situation, but they seemed to be talking more to themselves than you so you kept quiet and walked over to the counter, hurried to place your order. You briefly considered buying the small monster a cup as well, but you shrugged it off, you didn’t have the time or money this morning. As you waited you felt your phone vibrate, alerting you of a text. You checked it as your name was called by the barista, seeing your brother's photo light up your screen. You grabbed your cup and nodded at the worker as you headed out of the shop. You pulled up the message managing to navigate the sidewalk that grew more crowded as you read.

'Lunch? Gotta ask you something.'

You quickly responded, telling him to meet you in the food court at noon before you put your phone away so you wouldn't be late. Entering the mall, you lamented your own bad habit of once again starting the work week with barely any sleep. Luckily the caffeine coursing through your veins had so far kept you pleasantly awake and distracted.

"Hey man over here!" You were pulled out of your thoughts by the greeting and searched for the source of the airy voice.

You scanned the long, nearly empty hallway and your eyes quickly landed on her. Chandler was waving you over, making sure you knew she was the one who called out to you. Chandler worked at that trendy record store across from your studio and she gave off this breezy, bohemian vibe in everything she did. It still amazes you that you've never seen her get mad or even impatient. She was tall and curvy with short chestnut brown hair that framed her freckled face and her hazel eyes were wide and as round as her face. She stood with Nathan who was pretty much the only other person who worked at the mall that you knew well enough to eat lunch in the food court with. Nathan's dirty blonde hair poked out from his dark grey beanie in a way that was probably purposefully messy and his ice blue eyes were framed by his thick black glasses. He was lanky and angular, he had stubble that was kept neat and short and the left side of his bottom lip was pierced with a simple black ring. As you got closer you saw she was also talking to that cat guy you sometimes saw smoking outside; you didn't really know much about him or when that they had started to hang out. He was slumped up against the wall toying with the pack of cigarettes in his hands. You don't think you have ever seen that guy stand up straight without leaning lazily against something, and honestly you were kind of impressed with his dedication.

You turned to look for the source of the greeting, scanning the long nearly empty hallways. Your eyes quickly connected with Chandler’s and she waved you over. She smiled when she was sure she had your attention and you returned it, heading over to her. Chandler worked at that record store that was across from your studio. It was trendy but not insanely popular. Chandler herself gave off this breezy, bohemian vibe in everything she did. It is hard for you to recall anytime she had ever gotten overly mad or impatient and that amazed you. She was a bit taller than you and was effortlessly curvy with all the right proportions. She had short chestnut brown hair, the fringe framing her round, freckled face. Her hazel eyes, filled with warmth, moved from you to the others in her group.

There was Nathan, who besides Chandler was one of the only people that worked at the mall with you that you knew well enough to share a table at the food court with. Nathan’s blonde hair poked out from under his beanie in a way that was most likely purposefully messy, and his ice blue eyes were hidden behind his thick rectangular framed glasses. He was lanky and angular, had a bit of stubble and a pierced lip. Nathan worked at the game store and kept you in supply of weird or interesting handheld games. He was quiet, but smart and friendly.

As you got close you noticed a third member of the group, a cat monster you sometimes saw smoking outside. You really didn’t know him, but you’ve seen him around, he had orange fur and had a face that screamed he would rather be anywhere than work. He was slumped up against the wall toying with a pack of cigarettes in his hands. You can’t recall a single time you’ve seen him stand up straight with out leaning lazily against something or slouching and honestly you were a bit impressed with his dedication.

“Hey dude,” Chandler greeted you, Nathan nodded, and the monster waved half-heartedly. “You making it to game night?” she asked “We’ll be at Nathan’s.” Nathan nodded again, though he remained silent as usual. He listened carefully, and always paid attention, though he rarely spoke up. Your face scrunched up into a grimace, “No sorry, can’t make it.” You answered immediately. You felt a little bad for turning them down, but at the same time the shrug you gave in response felt all too natural. You didn’t really make a habit out of hanging out with them much outside of work, but even you had to admit it’s been a while. “Babysitting, you know.” You offered up weakly as an excuse. Chandler chuckled but nodded. “How is she… Morrigan right?”

“Too adorable for her own good.” You answered back, “Finally making friends.” You offered, trying to keep from talking too much about it, since you first started to bug Gabriel into moving closer you feel like him and Morrigan are all you talk about.

Chandler and Nathan made matching expressions of acceptance, however, that cat monster’s fur puffed out, standing on end like a normal cat did when they were scared or upset.

“Kids weird me out.” He said aloud, though as if he was talking mostly to himself. “Take it from me buddy, one moment they’re begging their dead-inside parents for one of the meals with the toys in them, the next their throwing a fit, crying so hard you have to mop up after them.” He shuddered after speaking as if reliving the events he described.

“Yeah, now imagine you have to get them to sit still and smile for a family portrait. Best part of my day.” You said sarcastically rolling your eyes.

“See, you get it buddy!” The cat monster flashed you an approving smile. The genuine grin looked somewhat unnatural on his face, like it was unused to contorting that way.

“It’s different when you know the kid though, especially if they’re family.” You added.

“Yeah B.P. what about the kid that keeps pushing you to do community theater?” Chandler added gleefully.

“Eh, yeah sure a few are ok.” B.P., you assumed that was his name, shrugged.

You unintentionally sneered, “Watch out for actors, there is always that one diva bitch.” The words came out of you before you even knew what you were saying. Nathan broke his silence by descending into a fit of giggles.

You did your best to hide your blush behind your coffee cup, gulping up the remainder of the drink, and trying to put on an amused smile.

“You have no idea.” B.P. told you with sincerity.

You spent the majority of your morning just hanging out in the studio keeping things tidy and talking to curious mall goers, overall it was a fairly slow morning. You loved photography and the fact that mornings were usually dead, but you really wished you could be doing more with your passion than posed family portraits. You sighed and stared at the clock waiting for lunch.

When you were finally able to, after a period of time that felt like forever, you stepped out of the studio for lunch. You wandered off and stood in the middle of the food court trying to decide what to eat. You were lost in thought when you were ambushed from behind and pulled into a tight hug. You would never admit to the squeak you made in surprise. Pulling away, you spun around to be greeted with your brother's smiling face. He gave you a small smirk at your surprised reaction. "Gabriel! You're going to be the fucking death of me." you sighed and clutched your chest.

He crossed his arms, the tattoos on them showing from where he had rolled up his sleeves. "Yeah well maybe if you were more used to hugs you wouldn't have a panic attack every time I stop by." Gabriel rolled his eyes, smirk betraying the annoyed tone he used. "If you didn't insist on sneaking up on me it would be fine." you crossed your arms mimicking his action, trying to look affronted. He laughed, waving off your comment "Burgers?" he asked instead.

"Yes please, I am starving!" you agreed whole heartedly, having not eaten all day.

You ate with your brother, both of you scarfing down your food like ravenous wolves which left you with more time in your break than you thought. Gabe wandered with you through the mall eventually ending up in the outdoor plaza area in the center of the mall before you remembered the text he sent you earlier.

"So, what's this big mysterious question?" you asked when your conversation lulled.

"You're off on Saturday, right?" it was a question, but he said it like a statement. He was just leading you along his train of thought until he got to the point he wanted to make.

"Yeah?" you asked, drawing out the word to urge him to continue.

"Well how about dinner?" there was a mischievous glint in his eyes that was slightly worrying, but you chose to ignore it. "Sure thing, when?" You answered easily.

"Five, I'll text you the address." He offered casually leading you down a winding trail around the plaza.

You glared at him suspiciously "Did you spontaneously change address or do you really think my direction skills are that poor?" you intoned.

"Well, it’s not at my place.” He shrugged. “And, you don't know where Toriel lives." His voice was casual, but the look on his face was one someone would use when dealing with a particularly dense person who wasn't following simple logic.

"Toriel?” You paused a moment in thought trying to remember why you recognized that name. “You mean that uh kid…” You struggled trying to think of the name. “Frisk's mom?" you questioned trying to slowly piece together what he was telling you.

"Yep." he popped the 'p' sound and nodded encouragingly as you worked through what he meant.

You glared, knowing he was being deliberately vague to fuck with you "Why am I supposed to have dinner with Toriel?"

"Because," he sighed in an exaggerated manner as if he was extremely disappointed in your deductive skills. "it's going to be a kind of 'getting to know your kid's new friend's family' type thing and she invited you. Oh, look ice cream!"

Gabriel distracted you from trying to process the information, or maybe he was legitimately excited by the small food vendor cart with the bright yellow and red striped umbrella that he pointed at. There was really no underestimating his sweet tooth.

"Isn't it getting a bit too cold for ice cream?" you complained even as he dragged you by your wrist toward the cart manned by a pastel blue bunny man in a shirt that matched the cart’s umbrella.

He was leaned up against it amenably chatting with that cat monster you spoke to earlier. You don’t think you caught his name, but you recognized him propped up against the wall nearby with the cigarette in between his lips. The fact that he was smoking and wearing an overly tacky fast food uniform you figured he was probably on his own lunch break.

"C'mon, live a little, will you?" Gabriel chided you teasingly.

You shrugged now close enough to read 'Nice Cream' on the side of the trolley, "Yeah, sure fine."

"Oh, by the way I said you would make dessert." he added quickly before getting the bunny's attention.

You groaned and slapped his arm, you had no clue what he had gotten you into now. “Ugh, go to hell Gabe.”

“I’m trying my best, sister dearest.” He quipped back quickly with a smirk and wink before returning his full attention back to his ice cream order, you didn’t order one of your own.

Soon Gabe left on his way to pick Morrigan up from school and you went back to work, but for the rest of the day your mind kept drifting back to the conversation.

On your way home that day you easily thought of ways you could get out of going to this dinner. Ideas ranging from reasonable and realistic to dramatically unbelievable stories you could weave, but ultimately you didn't even know if you wanted to avoid going. You liked Toriel, from what you remembered of meeting her, and she had asked you to come so you guessed she didn't mind you either. Frisk was also a good kid and your niece really seemed to like to her. You didn't want to ruin the first friendship she developed since moving here, so how much could one dinner party really hurt? You would have Gabriel there with you and he always made it easier to deal with people, just like when you were kids. These thoughts kept looping in your mind for the whole walk back to your apartment and by the time you got there you were surprised to find you were actually excited by the idea.

Sticking your hand into your jacket pocket for your keys your nose scrunched up in confusion as you were met with something you didn’t remember putting there. You pulled it out of your pocket to examine it only to be filled with more confusion. It was a wrapper, was this the wrapper from Gabriel’s ice cream thing? Did he just shove his trash in your pocket while you weren’t paying attention? You sighed and shook your head ready to throw it away when you saw writing on the inside of the wrapper. Uncrinkling the weird not quite paper, not quite plastic material you read the message ‘You have a really nice smile, you should use it more!’. You could feel yourself starting to smile just from reading it. You rolled your eyes half-heartedly at the thought of Gabriel sneaking the wrapper into your jacket and held it in your hand as you went fishing in your pocket again, this time actually managing to grab your keys.

#undertale #undertale fanfiction #sans #sansxreader #sans/reader #slow burn #fluff and angst #chapter three

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