#when chris said he thought andrew was good looking enough to still look good with the mustache TRUE!

[comicalsansfont]

THE GOOD IN EVERYONE

[taramaclaywasaterf]

What are your thoughts on the song The Other Man

Someone giving me an excuse to talk about Sloan??? Oh my fucking god anon, I’m in love with you, please marry me. Congratulations this is what has officially gotten me to post for the first time in like a year🫡😭

The other man is the Dumbfuck Lesbian Anthem fr fr… ok not really lmao but it was MY anthem during my late teens/early 20s when I was a raging dumbfuck asshole chasing women I definitely shouldn’t have been with. 

“You know he's not the one for you but that's no fault of mine. He knows that I'm a friend of yours but doesn't know I've crossed the line. I know you've got a man in the picture but it hasn't stopped me yet…”

I mean… come on lol. You can’t tell me a lesbian cover of this song wouldn’t be an absolute fucking banger.

For a, like, feminist analysis of the song…look, I’ll fully admit to being a giant hypocrite and super biased because I love Sloan and have hung out with all the guys before/after shows for the past 10 or so years I’ve been seeing them live. I’ve been listening to them since I was like 11. I fucking love this stupid band. I have a lot of good memories associated with them. One of my best friends who passed away loved the band too, so they’re just really special to me. 

That said, is the song misogynist? Yeah, women aren’t, like, objects for men to fight over. Men acting like they’re the victims of their own actions are gross. It’s about the time in 2002 when Chris was dating the singer Leslie Feist at the same time she was dating another guy named Andrew from a different band and how pretty much everyone except Andrew knew about it.

It also talks about how Leslie didn’t know there were rumors (“He's going to find out that the rumours are true, though they are still unbeknownst to you. He'll find out, so I'll tell you because, you gotta find out before he does.”) which is something he seems…proud of? Idk, I’ve never liked that part of the song. Well, the part of the song is fun to sing lol, but I never liked those lyrics because it just feels like a man flexing his power over a woman, getting off on her not knowing everyone knows her secret. It’s gross.

Chris has never been creepy or weird or misogynistic to me or anyone I know in the years I’ve known him, and he’s had multiple opportunities to take advantage of my friends and I, especially at the shows I go to alone. BUT, if anything comes out about him, I’ll believe the victim. I don’t care how well I know a man, I’ll always believe a woman first and foremost and I never allow myself to like/trust a man enough to believe he’s above being a piece of shit. 

If you have more Sloan questions let me know lol I will yap about this band all fucking day if you let me

[itsbansheebitch]

I can't even. This article doesn't even make him look good. He admits he's still messaging minors. He is so disconnected from reality.

“Quickly, please name five famous male gay celebrities from the ages of 20 to 25,” he says. “You can’t because they don’t exist.” - James Charles

Remember this is the guy who defended Colleen Ballinger and called Adam McIntyre a liar. He was fine with a 30 something year old sending lacy underwear to a 13/14 year old. He could easily date someone older, but he CHOOSES to message minors. This is so disgusting and spits in the faces of everyone he's affected.

He complains about being "canceled" but then is dead silent when Adam, Johnny, Becky, Oliver, Ella, Alex, and more come out about their stories. Not to mention the victim blaming in this article. he is AN ADULT he should know better! I don't care if he's in his 20s, as someone younger than him, I find his behavior to be REALLY WEIRD at BEST.

Not to mention Colleen's Ballinger's lawyer may or may not have defended Armie Hammer, Prince Andrew, Brian Singer, Danny Masterson (and maybe Bill Cosby, can't confirm though). :/ The lawyer also sent a cease and desist to to the WRONG email. The email of a fan account of the H3 Podcast (Ethan's Basement). That's some Onision energy lol (Wrong Chris Hansen)

I'm so done with YouTubers (Especially OG ones) being creeps and predatory. Someone needs to crowdfund a lawsuit fund for these kids. Some of these kids have JUST turned 18. Colleen and her family KNEW that Trent was at LEAST creepy towards kids, enough for them to warn him against messaging people under 18 years old. He literally told Oliver that when HE WAS 13 YEARS OLD. You don't even want to know what else he messaged them.

I want to add that Johnny, Becky, and Oliver are not "Weenies" (one of the group chats), however, this does not make their experience any less valid, in fact I'd say it is even more horrifying since that means THERE ARE EVEN MORE VICTIMS.

This situation is insane and my heart goes out to those effected. Both the "direct" victims, those speaking out AND those staying silent. My heart also goes out to former fans of Colleen, I know how it feels to find out a creator isn't who you thought they were. I hope you all find peace. <3

It should also be said that Colleen has children. She has a family channel, a vlog channel. I'm not saying she or her family should be harassed, but we need to hold them accountable for their actions. If Adam is telling the truth about being sent Trisha Paytas' nudes at ~15 years old (which I have no reason to believe otherwise, however, I am open to the truth no matter what side it come from) then Colleen may have committed a FEDERAL CRIME.

This isn't YouTube drama, it's crime.

[purposefully-lost]

Milly took in a deep, steadying breath. She was still standing by the door, greeting people as they walked in. It wasn't a crowd exactly and she would have hated it if it had been, but Nathan had had a few good friends, and he'd taught enough kids in his few years of coaching to have a number of parents and classmates of Christine's filtering through the doors. Honestly, she hadn't been prepared for the thought of a funeral at all, but it was the normal and expected thing to do, and after a couple of hours it would be over with. There were two bags in the trunk of her car packed with enough clothing and books to keep Chris entertained for a few days at her mother's house, and she was ready to get there. The chance at a real night of sleep would be nice-- and the time away from home, away from the town Nathan had died in, would bring some comfort, she was sure.

For now, though, she had to find it in herself to smile and say thank you and tell Nathan's past kids how big they'd gotten. All the while she was glancing at a corner of the room, where Chris sat with her legs drawn to her chest and an expression on her face that wavered between bored and frightened. There was a book next to her that she'd brought with her but hadn't opened, and not once did she look towards the casket beyond the open doors next to her. She only sort of frowned at people as they walked by or greeted her, and Milly felt her chest ache with worry. She wanted to get the girl home.

So it was something of a relief when Catherine Campbell and her husband walked through the door with Andrew trailing along beside them. He held his mother's hand, but let go as they walked in, the first of the three to approach Milly. His hair was combed neat and somehow not yet ruffled by his own hands, a sullen, unsure expression on his face. "Hi, Mrs. Prescott," he started, clearly rattling off some script that Catherine had given him, "I'm really sorry about Coach Prescott."

"Hi, Andy," she said, and as stoic as she'd managed to be so far, the wide, sweet blue eyes of sweet little Andy Campbell had her own starting to water. She glanced at his parents, then knelt down in front of him, reaching out to rub at his shoulder. "Hey, thanks for coming," she told him directly, earning a small, rueful smile from the boy, "Chris is gonna be happy to see you."

His smile turned a little more genuine at that, and he wasn't able to stop himself from glancing around for his friend. It sparked an idea in her and she squeezed his shoulder gently. "Actually, Andrew, do you think you could do me a favor?"

He looked back at her, then nodded. "I think so."

"It's a very big favor," she told him, sniffling a little. She didn't want to cry in front of the boy, but she was failing at that miserably. "So it's okay if you don't want to, okay?" She asked, and waited for him to nod. "Chris hasn't gone to see her dad yet. I think she's scared," she told him, a little conspiratorial, "She didn't want to come with me. If you.. go see him, would you ask her to come?" She tried to smile for him. It was difficult- it felt like a big ask for a kid and Andy was already too mature for his age by half. But Chris had thrown a tantrum when she'd tried to walk with her up to the casket, and she wanted to give her at least one more opportunity to go say goodbye. Andy seemed like he might be able to get her up there. "Do you think you could be brave for her?"

Andy nodded again, deeply serious. It brought an easier smile to Milly's lips as she thanked him and tugged him in for a quick hug. Then she nodded him towards where Chris was hiding herself and picked herself up off the ground, reaching up to wipe at her cheeks as Catherine and Frank finally came closer. "He's a really good kid," she said to them, before they traded the more typical smalltalk. She wasn't sure she considered herself friend's with Andy's parents, exactly, but they were her neighbors, and cordial, and they'd watched Chris for her that first morning when the news had reached her. She could appreciate that.

As they moved on, her gaze wandered back to her daughter, and her heart squeezed. Chris was clutching one of Andy's hands between both of her own and nearly hiding behind him as they approached the casket together, one slow step at a time. She crossed her arms with a sigh, watching them for a long moment. Andy was a really great kid.

[softgrungeprophet]

long incoherent post ahead cause sometimes twitter isn't enough to contain my word-and-thought deluge and typing this shit out is my equivalent of having a diary (and also my brain is constantly on and i need to get everything out of it all the time)

i'm just thinking about things, cause i've been thinking all morning about things—well. technically all afternoon cause i slept til 1 but still. I've just been thinking about it for a few days, really, after seeing a picture of andrew garfield from a few years ago and thinking like... oh you know, i have thick hair like that, i have brown eyes like that, i have eyebrows like that with hair on the bridge of my nose like that

i've just been thinking about it a lot and additionally about how andrew garfield is or has been so vocal, so unwilling to back down from his like, reality, of being attracted to men, being jewish, being neurotic, and finding himself in spider-man ever since he was a boy etc etc etc

it's not like looking in a mirror, but it's like when i went on the adhd subreddit and saw people talking about their struggles and joys the other day, and... there's a difference between knowing logically that you aren't the only one vs actually seeing people talking about the things they do and seeing the exact same shit you do and knowing emotionally and in actuality—not just logically—that there are other people like you (and also maybe fingers crossed that your new adhd meds help you function slightly better the way they help those other people XD)

andrew garfield's spider-man and his being so outspoken about, outside of and within spider-man, and his thoughts on peter, and peter's role and responsibility, and doing good, and all this other stuff, and what he brought to peter's like... body language and interpersonal physicality etc. it's both this feeling that he definitely understands the character he's playing and connects to a lot of the largely unspoken truths about the character (as well as of course the spoken ones), but also that he's bringing this other stuff to it so that it all combines to make it feel both, you know, Super, but also grounded and human. which is of course what spider-man should be, even if you're modernizing it. those aspects are not limited by time period, you know?!

peter is flawed, and he is twitchy, and he is awkward, and he is angry and possessive and he is kind and loving and has a strong sense of justice, and all these other things. he's superhuman, but he's also very human at the core. messy. (talking also about comics now)

and of course part of this is also the script and the writing, not just AG's acting, and it's also the supporting cast and what THEY bring to the roles—flash would not be the same if it was not specifically zylka playing him, because zylka brings something specific to the role by being the kind of actor he is (also he's very pretty xD) and so that lends more to their interactions even though he has like. 5 minutes of screentime at most. the same goes for the others, for stone's gwen, and for aunt may, and all of this stuff.

when it comes to peter though, like i said it's a feeling, i guess. not like looking in a mirror, but like looking thru a window or a door or whatever and knowing there is someone else like you, who looks like you and is neurotic like you and queer like you (or similarly at least) and that is not you but is someone to remind you that you aren't the only person in the world that feels the way you do, and that there are always other people who are like you, who are fidgety and awkward and dark-eyed and dark-browed and intensely feeling, and that also you can maybe be a tiny bit of a superhero or whatever else (and obvs that was also part of the messaging in ITSV later on)... that not everyone in the world is ACTUALLY a cookie cutter dirty blonde or light-brown-haired blue-eyed dude named chris

(though obviously AG is himself very attractive, even conventionally attractive in a lot of ways, but he nonetheless isn't... that. he has a slightly gangly build, and, not to be horny on main but, this beautiful long neck with a very prominent adam's apple; he has a nose that is not small or perfectly sloped or perfectly straight and proportioned, he has bushy eyebrows and really thick hair, and brown eyes instead of the idealized blue... he's super attractive but he's not Hollywood Male Model Blonde Superhero Attractive, you know? and the body language really affects a lot of how peter feels as a character, confident in some ways, but... again... neurotic... without being childlike or infantilized)

i guess?

it's hard to put into words the way I've been feeling the past week, tbh, and idk if that has anything to do with my new adhd medication (considering it has affected nothing else at such a low dose) or if i'm just in a weird state because of the past few years happening, but I've been thinking a lot about this kind of stuff over the past few weeks (arguably couple of months) not just in this context of feeling seen and having the hand reach out (more recently) but also just because I've been writing so much in this spidey AU, 50k in two months, that I've been thinking a lot about Peter's behavior and how I want to capture that and make him both faithful to the comics, in bearing, much like tasm feels to me, while also making him of course something that is personal in many ways, that i am connecting to on a deeper level as a bisexual, ADHD-having, sensory overload-prone neurotic person, in reclaiming the traits that fandom and comics themselves like to infantilize and fetishize in strange ways and in refusing that and making it my own because, like, no one else is gonna do it 😅 so i'll do it myself and i'll draw from the comics heavily because i do already connect with the character in many ways, being poor, neurotic, angry, etc.

there are honestly a lot of reasons i don't like the popular portrayal of peter as a fun-loving teenager with light brown hair and zero flaws, and then conversely as a lithe hairless childlike boy who is frail and delicate and who sobs and is helpless almost constantly, as if even those of us who are ~sensitive~ are incapable of existing at all, who is presented as this kind of inhuman creature in some ways, to be defiled and possessed and rescued (often by older men)—because so much of it is tied into things that are just so... a weird bundle of fetishization and objectification and infantilization that makes me uncomfortable in its treatment of mental illness and neurodivergence, of poverty, of beauty ideals and ethnicity (intrinsically tied in some ways), and of sexual/gender roles, etc... and i feel that also goes hand in hand with the smooth cardboard cutout homogenization of like the M C U, mascotification, and smoothing out, to be entirely sexless in many ways, ironically, while also being objectified externally in others...

there is more than one reason i draw and describe peter the way i do, with dark brown eyes and black-brown hair and long limbs and sometimes with a busted nose, and long eyelashes and dark, heavy brows, and a serious face... a mix of spite and pushback against that homogeneity, and self-projection (just like everyone else uses as justification), and a desire to be faithful to the comics i like as well as the comics that were iconic and formative to the character, my favorite artists like Romita Sr. and Andru and Buscema, etc.... a mix of all these things!

(and honestly normally my projection on characters is not like the way i do it with peter, normally it's spread out, and rarely is it a full visual similarity, but small traits; almost every OC i've ever made has small pieces of me in them and so does most of my fanfic stuff but almost none of them actually look like Me because i actually dislike strong self-insertion for the most part; i can't play games with my own name because it makes me uncomfortable to be addressed so directly and to be directly an aspect of the plot even if it's not technically me, even though 2nd person doesn't bother me) (love DE for example and that's entirely 1st and 2nd person narration)

but like

ALL THAT ASIDE

all that aside... just considering the way AG felt both proud of what he did as peter parker and also dissatisfied in seeing a stranger, dissatisfied in trying so hard to hold tightly to the depth that capitalism and the industry wants to strip away for marketability, and trying so hard and so vocally to remain true to himself via peter, through peter, trying very hard to reach out with that hand to say "you are seen" etc. and trying to spread that "medicine" in his own words like—

despite all the ways that was kind of pushed back against... it worked at least a little bit. right? at least, for me, i feel like it reached me in some way lol and part of that is because of how vocal he was through it all, though i also love the movie in general and love how interpersonal it is while still being super. as it should be. but i think he's right to be proud of the work he did, despite everything.

it's like. maybe i am being seen by this movie or by the actor(s) or script or whatever, but you know what, it goes both ways, right? like i am seeing, too (at least, in what limited way i can). a hand reaching out still has to be reached out to in turn, you need two hands to handshake or to hold. so i'm grateful, i guess, which sounds SAPPY AS HELL lmfao but it's true! and i really like that movie! despite my criticisms, i really do! it's not for everyone, but it's for me

cue *THIS HOLE WAS MADE FOR ME*😂😂😂

it really is my favorite spidey movie though!! love that shit. i should rewatch it sometime soon so i can bawl my eyes out when uncle ben dies even though i already know what happens kdfjgsdkjg

[jessybarnes]

Golden Lines - Chapter Four - I Thought I Knew You

Pairings: Chris Evans x OFC Jessica Anderson, Chris Evans x OFC Lily Stan, Sebastian Stan x OFC Jessica Anderson, Tom Hiddleston x OFC Ang DiLorenza 

Chapter Four Characters: Chris Evans, Sebastian Stan, Tom Hiddleston, OFC Jessica Anderson, OFC Lily Stan, OFC Ang DiLorenza, OFC Amanda Evans (mentioned), Dodger, OFC Linda Anderson (Jessica's Mom), OFC Shayly Andrews (mentioned), OMC Jameson Andrews (mentioned), Georgeta Orlovschi (mentioned. Sebastian Stan's Mom)

Chapter Four Rating: Mature

Chapter Four Tags: ANGST, fluff, yelling, arguments, crying, throwing things, stress, anxiety, anger, broken glass, mentions of cancer (leukemia), teacher/student relationships, implied smut, drinking, pet names, keeping secrets, jealousy, pining, and explicit language 

Chapter Four  Word Count: 4,208

Chapter Four Betas: T. Thompson and A. DiLorenza 

Chapter Four Mini Title Card: Yours Truly

Sebastian stands rooted to the spot. He can't wrap his head around the fact that Chris, his best friend, is involved with a student. Yeah, she's eighteen, but it's still against the school's policy. 

He takes his phone out of his pocket and opens his text message conversation with Chris. He feels...well, he doesn't really know what he feels. Anger? Betrayal? Jealousy? 

It's true that he thinks Jessica is beautiful. He'd be lying to himself if he said she wasn't. Sebastian squeezes his phone so hard his knuckles are white. It's a wonder it doesn't break. He scowls and furiously begins typing a message he knows he’ll regret later. Right now, he's too pissed to care. 

He shuts his phone off and storms back to his classroom. It's a damn good thing it's time for him to leave for the day because he's not sure he could teach right now. Sebastian rips his jacket off the back of his chair and grabs his keys before turning around to head to his car. 

Of course, Chris is standing in his doorway. Just his fucking luck. 

"Move." 

He stares angrily into Chris’s pleading eyes. "Sebastian…please I…just please listen to m-" 

Chris flinches as his friend steps closer to him, his finger pointing inches from his face. "No! You don't get to explain ANYTHING to me! I've already seen enough," he thrusts his fingertip hard into Chris’s chest, "Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. Way." 

Chris feels his throat tighten. Tears sting his eyes as he steps to the side. "P-Please...just please don't tell anyone," he whispers. 

Sebastian turns around. If looks could kill, Chris would be dead by now. "Oh, don't worry," his words spew from his mouth like venom, "I won't tell your precious little secret. Unlike you, I'm actually fucking loyal and don't keep shit this big from my best friend." 

Chris clenches his fists so hard it breaks the skin. He can't breathe. 

"GODDAMMIT!" 

He picks up a book from Sebastian’s desk and hurls it across the room, hitting the opposite wall. His chest heaves and his hands fist his hair. 

Chris isn't even that upset that Sebastian knows. No, he's mad at himself. He should have told him from the start, but he was scared. Scared that this pure, beautiful thing he and Jessica have would fall apart before it even began. Chris pulls his truck keys out of his pocket and swiftly walks to the parking lot. He has to fix this. Sebastian’s text message be damned, he's going to his house anyway

Jessica hums happily while she walks to her car. Angie gave her address to her earlier, but she wants to change her clothes to something comfier first. She unlocks the driver's door and slides in, a wave of heat making the whole inside of her car feel like a sauna. "God, it's hotter than Satan's asshole in here," she mutters to herself.

Her Metallica album resumes its playback from this morning's drive. One, her favorite song, blasts from her stereo as she sings along with James. The drive home takes a little longer, but that's to be expected when every high schooler with a car is trying to leave the parking lot at the same time. 

Jessica pulls into her driveway and hurries inside. "Hey, Mom! I'm home!" She sets her bag by the door and bounds up the stairs. 

"In my room, sweetie!" 

She walks to her room and grins happily, "I made some friends today!" 

"That's awesome, baby! I knew you would! I know they're not Shayly and Jameson, but I hope you can be happy here. I just want the best for you." 

Jessica softens and pulls her Mom into a hug. "Oh, Mom…it's alright. I know why we had to leave. I can always call Shay and Jamie to catch up. I actually wanted to see if I could go to my friend Angie's house to do homework." 

Her Mom smiles, "of course, honey! Just be home before midnight, okay?" 

Jessica shouts a thank you as she hurries to her room to change. Deciding on a pair of grey sweats and a baggy Avenged Sevenfold tee, she slips her converse back on and heads back to her car. "Bye, Mom!" 

The drive to Angie's only takes about ten minutes and soon she's met with her favorite brunette once again. "Hi, lovely! Long time no see!" Angie pulls her into a hug and leads her inside. 

"Hey, babe! C'mon, we have loads to talk about." 

Jessica giggles and follows her to her room. "What do you mean, Ang? I thought you gave us all the details at lunch." 

Angie shuts her door and plops down on her bed. "Okay, so maybe something did happen…" 

Chris’s knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel. His radio is off, but his mind is racing. He doesn't know what he plans to do when he gets to Sebastian's. He just hopes he talks to him. 

His house comes into view, the beautiful dark red brick accenting the white shutters is the most beautiful scenery on the block. Lily's flowerbed is in full bloom. Pink and white roses are planted next to purple and red tulips. The large ash tree casts a shadow along the ground where he parks his truck. 

Chris can see them from where he is. They're sitting on the couch together, laughing about whatever it is they’re watching. Lily is munching on some popcorn while Sebastian nurses a glass of whiskey. They look so carefree. It pains Chris to see that his best friend doesn't even look the tiniest bit upset about what happened just forty-five minutes ago.

Part of him wants to turn around and leave, but he knows that won't solve anything. He sighs and swallows the lump in his throat as he climbs out of his truck. His feet feel like they're made of lead, and the closer he gets to his front door the louder his heartbeat gets. He stands still for a moment, just to gather his bearings. Finally, he reaches up and knocks on the big white door.

Sebastian sits next to his sister, trying hard to distract himself from remembering the look on Chris’s face. The moment he walked away his mind was screaming at him to go back and pull him into a hug. The hurt he felt overpowered that though.

He and Lily are watching Step Brothers, her pick, but he's not paying attention. He laughs along with her every time he hears her do it just so she doesn't catch on to his sullen mood. 

A knock on his front door makes his stomach drop. He immediately knows it's Chris. He looks at Lily and sighs. "Hey, listen, I'm sorry but I'm gonna have to raincheck on our movie night." 

She raises an eyebrow, "Seb, are you okay? You've been acting funny lately, and I'm honestly scared I'm losing you." She looks down at her lap and blinks to hide her teary eyes. 

It breaks his heart to see his baby sister like this. With their Mom in Romania, he's all she has. "Lil, hey, look at me." She sniffles and turns her gaze in his direction. "I promise you're not losing me. You never will, okay? Work has been stressful and Chris and I aren't on good terms right now. Actually, he's the one outside. I'm gonna go talk to him in the garage for a bit, but I swear I'll make it up to you." 

Sebastian kisses her temple and walks to the door, his drink still in hand. He pulls it open and steps outside motioning in the direction of his garage. "I told you I had plans with my sister." His words are void of emotion as he opens the overhead door and grabs two folding chairs. 

Chris takes one and sits down. "I'm sorry." His voice is small, and vulnerable, as he looks down at the concrete floor. 

Sebastian begins to pace, "what exactly are you sorry for, Chris? For neglecting to tell me about your little thing that could fuck up your entire career? For ruining my weekly movie night with my sister? What?" 

Chris hangs his head, "Sebastian, I-" 

"No!" 

He throws his glass, and pieces scatter everywhere as it hits the ground. "Tell me what you're fucking sorry for!" 

Chris stands up and looks directly into his eyes. 

"I'M SORRY FOR EVERYTHING!" 

His outburst not only shocks Sebastian but also himself. He's shaking with emotion and the words just won't stop. "I'm scared! Scared because I feel something for her that I haven't felt since Amanda. Scared because even though it could destroy my entire fucking life, my feelings outweigh that fear. I'm scared because even after betraying my best friend like the coward I am, I still don't want to call this whole thing off!" 

Sebastian is staring at him, eyes wide with a mix of emotions. He can see how torn up Chris is over this. If he's being honest with himself, he hasn't seen him this upset since Amanda was diagnosed with leukemia. Sebastian watches him brush a tear from his cheek and turn around. 

"I'm sorry I ruined your night, Seb. I'm gonna go." 

Even through his anger and jealousy, he still doesn't want Chris to leave. Not like this. "Chris, wait!" He stops and looks over his shoulder, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Have a drink with me please." 

Even though Lily is inside the house she can still hear the two of them. She absolutely hates hearing her brother and his best friend arguing. It doesn't help that she's been in love with Chris since she was fourteen. Of course, neither he nor Sebastian knows this. That wouldn't go over well.

She pulls her knees to her chest and puts her head down to try and drown out their yelling. Lily can't exactly make out what they're saying, but she picks up words here and there. From what she can gather, they seem to be arguing over a girl. How typical, she thinks to herself. 

The sound of glass breaking makes her jump and her eyes shut tight. Chris’s loud voice echoes through the thin walls and she's half tempted to intervene. She hears him say that liking this girl could ruin his life and it makes her brows furrow. What does he mean by that? 

She gets up to get another cream soda-flavored Dr. Pepper and grabs her phone to text Angie. Anything to distract herself from the fiasco going down on the other side of the wall. 

Jessica's eyes widen, "what do you mean something else happened?! Girl, give me the tea!" 

Angie blushes and falls backward onto her comforter. "Well, we didn't kiss, but...I did sorta hold his hand for like...I don't know. A minute?" 

Jessy squeals, "Ang! Oh, my god! Like are we talking about interlocking fingers or something else?" 

"Something else. I was standing next to him up at the whiteboard while he attempted to explain the formulas to me. Of course, I wasn't paying attention because how could I, ya know? He smelled so fucking good, Jessy. God, it was heaven. So, anyway, I desperately wanted to touch him, but I didn't have a reason to. That is until I looked down and saw his watch. 

I reached for his hand and wrapped my fingers around his palm. Let me tell you...his hands? Fucking huge. He can curl his fingers over mine for sure. So, he stops talking and I look up at him, right? Jessica...the way this man looked at me… GIRL! When I tell you I became instantly wet…sweet god. He looked at me like he wanted to devour me. I could tell he was nervous though because he sent me on my way." 

Jessica is about to respond, but Angie's text tone stops her. "It's Lily. What are she and Seb up to?" 

She watches as Ang taps her thumbs across the keyboard at lightning speed. 

"Um...well, things aren't going well." 

Jess scoots closer to Angie so she can look at the screen. Three little dots appear and they wait in anticipation. The moment she reads her response, her blood runs cold. Sebastian must have seen his number when she ran into him earlier. 

"Ang…," tears pool in her eyes as she sucks in a sharp breath, "this is all my fault!" 

Angie types a quick reply and turns sideways to face her friend. "Honey, what do you mean? You're not seriously blaming yourself for having a panic attack, are you? 'Cause that definitely does not make this your fault." 

Jessica shakes her head and paws at the tear tracks on her cheeks. "I was distracted earlier...after choir...a-and I ran into Sebastian by accident. Felt like a fucking brick wall, but that's beside the point. Chris had given me his number on a little scrap of paper and I was too stupid to tear it up after putting him in my phone. Guess what fell out when he was helping me get my books that were scattered everywhere? That fucking piece of paper." 

She buries her head in her hands, "I'm so goddamn stupid! Fuck! I bet Chris hates me." 

Angie pulls her into a hug. "Hey, Jessy, listen to me, okay? It was an accident. Chris doesn't hate you. He was probably terrified Sebastian would rat you guys out, but Lily said Chris told him he was willing to risk everything despite the consequences." 

She turns the phone so Jessica can read it. "See? This man is crazy about you!" 

She watches the three dots appear on Ang's phone, and when the next message appears all the color drains from her face. "A-Ang? Um...s-she thinks Sebastian is jealous…" 

The brunette frowns, "what do you mea-" She stops as her eyes scan the words Lily sent back. Her gaze snaps to Jessica's a second later. "Whoa...Jess, this is big. I mean, do you like Seb?" 

She wipes her eyes with her shirt and sniffles, "I mean...I…," she sighs, "he's hot, like really hot, but Chris just...he makes me feel...I don't know…" 

Angie takes her hands and looks seriously into her eyes. "Alive?" She finishes for her. 

Jessica looks up sharply, "yes," she breathes. That's it exactly! How did you know?" 

Ang turns her eyes to the open window, the passing cars becoming a brief distraction. She can't help the thick tears that fall down her own cheeks. "Because it's how I feel about Mr. H…"

Tom is sitting silently against the wall of his bedroom. He's still in his work clothes, having been too preoccupied to change. He's thinking about her. She's all he can think about since he first laid eyes on her earlier that morning. 

He sighs and gently leans his head back against the wall. How can one woman make him feel like this? Tom can still feel her tiny hand in his, gripping it so softly. He hated sending her away, but he knew if he didn't he'd have taken her right there on his desk. Her long, dark hair, that perfect, curvy frame, those big, innocent doe eyes...God! 

Tom closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He knows how dangerous it will be for him if he goes through with this, but then he remembers Chris’s words from earlier. Go with what your heart says. He already knows what it's saying, it rang loud and clear the moment he saw Angie. 

He wants her.

Tom gets to his feet and grabs his laptop. He knows what he's about to do is breaking roughly five school rules, but, at this point, he’s thrown caution to the wind. His leg bounces impatiently while he waits for his computer to boot up. Finally, he finds the file he's looking for. His third-hour class roster. 

He scrolls down to Angie's name and double-clicks on the info tab next to her picture. Tom types her cell phone number into a new text message conversation and sends a quick message before he can change his mind. God, he hopes she doesn't freak out over this.

Tom stares at his phone screen with a smile on his face. He's surprisingly calm given the gravity of the conversation he just had. This will be the first real date he's had in years. All of his past flings were mostly one-night stands that led to awkward mornings and the famous walk of shame to his car. 

He bites his lip as he re-reads Angie's messages. He can practically hear the confident, borderline bratty tone in her words. He's going to have to show her who's in charge once, no if, they ever get to that point. He'll never force her into anything she isn't comfortable with. Especially since they have a considerably large age gap. Although, the thought of her beneath him, writhing under his touch gives him the most beautiful image in his mind. He can almost hear her sweet voice moan his name. "Fuck!" He groans. She's going to be the death of him. 

Jessica looks into her friend's eyes with shock. "So you…you wanna be with Mr. Hiddleston? Like in a relationship?" 

Angie nods, "yeah, I just don't think he would do something like that though." 

"Why do you think that?" Jess asks. 

Angie shrugs and swipes her sleeve over her eyes, drying her remaining tears. "He just...he doesn't give off the vibe that says 'I'd break the rules to be with you', ya know? I mean, I'm pretty sure he's attracted to me. We've kinda established that already, but I-" 

Ang's phone screen lights up notifying her of a new text message. 

"You think it's Lily giving us an update?" 

Jess watches her unlock it, her eyes immediately widen and she gasps. "It's...it's him!" 

Jessica bounces with excitement. "OH, MY GOD! Ang! What did he say?!" She flips the phone, letting Jess read. "Dude, I fuckin' told you he had it bad for you!" 

Angie shakes her head. "I don't know, love. This doesn't really mean he's "got it bad" for me…" 

Jessy watches her type back to him and scoffs, "babe, are you kidding?! This man probably just went against protocol and got your phone number from the school's website. I think that speaks for itself, don't you?" 

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." Her eyes go wide, "Oh, my god! Ahh! I've got a date Saturday! He wants me to come over to eat and watch a movie!" 

Jessica hugs her tight, "that's amazing, love!" I wish I had the courage to text Chris…" 

"Gimme your phone." 

She gapes at her, "Ang, wha-" 

She holds out her hand and raises an eyebrow. "Jessy, hand it over. You're not chickening out. Not when that blue-eyed heartthrob literally made 'fuck me' eyes at you nearly the entire class period."

She reluctantly hands Angie her phone and watches as she types a quick message. "And now we wait!" 

Jessica looks at her phone, the two little words Angie wrote make her heart race. Is he still at Sebastian’s? Will he want to talk to her? She doesn't have to wait long because the three dots suddenly appear at the bottom of her screen. "Oh, god! He's typing!" 

Chris’s message appears and a flood of warmth jolts through her body like a tidal wave. "He called me sweetheart!" 

Angie grins, "girl work your magic and get yourself a date!" 

Jessica bites her lip and thinks for a moment. "Alright, wish me luck!" 

Chris slowly walks back into Sebastian’s garage, his eyes looking anywhere but at his friend. 

"Here, man. I still have a six-pack of your favorite." Sebastian hands him a beer and sits down. "Please sit. I wanna hear your side of it." 

He swipes a large hand over his beard and takes a seat next to Sebastian. "I um...well, you already know what happened at the park with Dodge. She looked so beautiful, Seb. I…she was like an angel. It took my breath away. I planned on asking her to get a cup of coffee with me, but she said she had to go eat and prepare for school before I had the chance." 

He cracks open the beer can and takes a long pull. "I-I…I guess I thought she meant college. Then when I saw her in my class I just...I froze. Lily's friend, the brunette...I think her name is Angie, must have told Jess I was staring at her cause she looked up at me and immediately began panicking. 

I didn't want her to freak out so I slipped her a note telling her to see me after class. That backfired too. She had an anxiety attack right in front of me, Sebastian. I didn't know what to do so I locked the door to my room and took her in my arms. It was all I could think of to try and calm her down. I held her while she cried and I shushed her until she was able to breathe normally again. That's when she looked at me.

Seb, I… I couldn't even begin to explain what it felt like to see her looking at me like that. Eyes wet with tears, pink, chapped lips, her fucking perfectly curled hair...fuck, man. I couldn't breathe. Before I could think twice about it, I asked if I could kiss her, and when she said yes, every last shred of my self-control flew out the window."

Sebastian waited patiently for Chris to finish. He took in every word, and even though a pang of jealousy squeezed his heart when he said he kissed her, he still kept his composure. Chris is looking at him, clearly waiting for him to say something. He leans back in his chair and sighs, 

"So, you really like her, huh?" 

Chris nods, "I do...I really do." 

Seb finishes his beer and grabs another. "I'm sorry I acted the way I did. You didn't deserve that." 

Chris shakes his head, "no Seb. You had every right to be mad at me." 

"No, I didn't. I was more upset with myself. I've been...in a funk lately, and I used this situation as an excuse to vent my anger. It wasn't the right thing to do and I'm sorry."

Chris sets his beer down on the floor and stands. "Come here." 

Sebastian cocks an eyebrow but slowly walks toward him anyway. "Look, man, if you're gonna hit me I-" 

Chris pulls him into a hug and claps him on the back. "I forgave you the moment it happened." He pulls back to continue, but his phone's text tone interrupts him.

They both look over at it laying face up on the arm of the chair. "It's her, isn't it?" Sebastian asks. 

Chris swipes his unlock pattern and opens the new message, his lips curling up into a bright smile. "Yeah, it is." 

Sebastian glances at his watch, "shit, man. I didn't realize how late it was. I have like forty journal entries to read and respond to. You're welcome to stay and hang out if you want though." 

Chris shakes his head. "Nah, I gotta feed Dodger and take him out. I'm sure he's made a mess of the living room by now. Thank you for uh...for listening to me. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before." 

Sebastian holds up his hand. "It's alright, we're good. I'll see you tomorrow bright and early." 

Chris walks back to his truck and turns on the classic rock station. He's over the moon that Jessica texted him, and he's even more excited for this weekend. Now he has to figure out what he's going to cook for her.

Sebastian walks back into his house and finds the TV off and their snacks cleaned up. It dawns on him that Lily most likely heard most of everything that happened. He's really going to have to make it up to her now.

He sets two big stacks of composition notebooks on his dining room table and begins reading. Most of the entries are about the same. Stories about their siblings, how many pets they have, and the family vacations they take with their parents. 

He pulls the next one off the pile and stops. Written in neat handwriting is Jessica's name. He swallows hard and slowly opens it to the first page. The more he reads, the more his heart aches. This beautiful woman seems to have had a tough life, and he tries not to imagine to what extent that is. His response is simple, and he knows it's a can of worms he shouldn't open, but what kind of teacher would he be if he didn't at least offer her an outlet to vent her feelings? It is the whole purpose of the journal assignments, and he's just doing his job. That's it. Sebastian signs his name and moves it to the completed pile. He rubs his eyes and groans. This is going to be a long night. 

[babyyweebbitch]

Please stay with me — Remake

Soo I reread the one I did before and I wanted to remake it because it wasn’t as good (heres the first one) I hope I can make this one better 😭😭 Also, grab tissues. I made this TOO sad

TW // death ; blood ; funeral ; severe depression & relapse

summary: Chris Redfield and his wife were on a mission a seven months after Piers’ death. His wife has been Captain of their team ever since that day.

Seven months ago Piers Nivans died in order to save Chris’ life and for the BSAA. Chris was still fucked up after that day and he thinks about it almost every day. He took a break from the BSAA since his wife made him. It wasn’t a very long one though, he missed being at work, he missed his coworkers and he missed her

Chris resigned as Captain and let his wife replace him. It was a very emotional day not not only for her and Chris but for the entire BSAA because they’ve never had a woman as Captain before. She was a good captain probably even better than Chris. Despite her height, weight and basically being the youngest on that team at 28. She was undoubtedly the best captain in years

Her team along with Chris were on a mission. Their mission was to take out the enemy, find three hostages and disable the bombs set in the building “Okay men… we’re gonna be splitting into three teams since there’s a lot of us here. Team A; Corey, John and Andrew. Your job is to find out where the bombs are and disable them as quickly as possible.”

“Yes ma’am!” The three went off to do their job as told

“Team B; Phil, Jean and Mark, you’re in charge of finding and getting the hostages to safety out of this building. You three can split up, stay together I don’t care. As long as your job is done”

“Ma’am” the three left

She turned to Eric and Chris who were standing together “what a coincidence, you two are with me.” She said with a slight smile on her face, walking ahead of the two Eric leaned over to Chris “She’s so cool…” Chris thought of Finn the moment he said that, he couldn’t help but to smile and look at him “I know…”

“Stop standing around we have a mission you know!” She yelled out to the two of them. Chris and Eric quickly made their way to the door the enemies were behind, Chris was silent the entire time before he was quickly checked back into reality with a pat on the shoulder “you okay? We need you fully here for this” his wife said as he looked down at her and nodded “yeah I’m okay…”

Chris, his wife and Eric all prepared as the door was blown open and guns were firing. The three did take cover just in time. After about five minutes of gun fire and fighting it finally stopped, thinking they had all the enemies taken care of they all stood up “good job! We did it — Chris!” Y/N called out as she did catch a glimpse of an enemy that didn’t die somehow standing up and pointing their gun towards Chris.

She quickly ran towards Chris and pushed him out the way, for Chris it’s almost like everything was happening in slow motion. He had to process everything leading up to that moment. He heard a scream of pain when his head finally cleared, looking up to see his wife shot in the sternum and Eric shooting the enemy down

She started to fall and Chris caught her before she hit the floor, his eyes started filling up with tears as he looked at her “baby please… tell me this is a joke!”

She knew she was dying, her body felt so cold from the inside out she, she coughed before reaching into one of her many pokes on her pants “c…Chris… do me a favour okay? Please…. stay safe” she handed him her wedding ring, she never wore it during missions to avoid it getting broken, rusted or something. So she held it in her pocket where it was safe “I… feel so… cold”

Chris looked at the ring then at her “no don’t say that! You’re gonna be fine! You’re gonna be fine! Please stay with me!” He started crying, Eric stood by as Team B; Phil, Jean and Mark came in. They surprisingly finished the bomb quicker than expected “Captain w—“ Mark was starting to talk but he quickly stopped when he realised what was happening

“Guys… take care of him for me…” she struggled to talk. She looked up at Chris to see him crying, she lifted her Hand up to his cheek to wipe his tears one last time “no no… don’t cry hon… I’ll tell my parents you said hi… I love you..” Chris held onto her hand and his heart practically stopped the moment he felt her hand and body go heavy and her head fall back … she was dead now

“No…. Please come back! Please don’t go! Y/N!!!” He held her body close and just sobbed, Eric and team B were tearing up and trying to wipe their tears

It took a while to get Chris to let go of her body and let them put her on a stretcher and on the truck so they can go back. When they finally did everyone on the team was there. It took three guys to pry him off of her This was the first time they’ve ever seen him cry like this

—————————

It’s been almost a month since she’s died, Chris looked horrible. He hasn’t shaved, left the house, he started drinking again and Claire had to clean him up at night since he wasn’t sober enough to even do it himself. The house looked like shit especially the room Chris and his wife shared

It was the day of the funeral and Chris was sitting on the edge of the bed looking at the picture of him and her on their wedding day back in 2007. He somehow managed to even get up that day and not drink. He showered that morning, got dressed in a suit and did his hair. He still didn’t shave though

Claire came in “Chris? You ready?” She asked. She had on a black dress on “I guess so…” Chris responded. He stood up and placed the picture down on the night stand and grabbed the necklace he had with his wife’s ring on it.

Claire fixed his tie and jacket before they left. Chris was always taking care of her when she was younger so now it was time for her to take care of her older brother “good. Let’s go” Claire let him walk in front of her to the car. She drove because one he couldn’t think straight enough to drive and he was completely hung over from drinking too much

After about a 45 minute drive they arrived to where her funeral was being held at. Everyone they knew was there, Leon, their BSAA team, Her family. It was hard for him to see her brother and sister at their older sisters funeral

The ceremony, the viewing and speeches all happened and Chris barely even got through his speech without crying

(Im so so so sorry for this next part)

Chris’ speech: “Y/N was an amazing person, she always took care of everyone, me, her siblings, our team, Claire… everyone. She put everyone before herself no matter who they were. She joined the BSAA not because of herself because of her parents death in Raccoon City. She promised them she would do something in any way to stop what happened in Raccoon from ever happening again. She treated our team like her family and even the rookies as her kids even if they were a few years younger then her. She was an even amazing person and wife. And I miss her dearly.”

There wasn’t a single dry eye in that room when Chris said his speech. After everything, everyone went inside to eat and talk.

Chris sat with Claire and Y/N’s siblings. He just picked at his food and stared at the plate. He was terrifyingly silent before Leon came over “hey Chris… how are you holding up?” Leon asked as he stared at Chris. He could tell how hard this has affected Chris. “I’m fine…”

“Chris… You need to eat. All you’ve done in the past month was drink, workout and cry… You need to at least eat something” Claire said “she wouldn’t want this… Her or Piers wouldn’t want you to be like this. Y/N would be yelling at you if she saw you picking at your food like this. We both know she would”

Chris’ eyes started to water once again before he spoke “I…. I know.. but I just miss her so much, Claire… we were gonna start a family together… she wanted to have kids and get a bigger house so we can have a big family… now I can’t have one because she’s the only person I wanted a family with…” Chris sighed softly as he wiped his eyes

“I miss her too… we all do…” Leon commented looking down at his plate. Chris eventually ended up eating his food and everyone left to go home. The entire drive home was deafening to the point you can hear a pin drop

When he got home he changed inside a fresh pair of clothes and he started to clean the house, starting with the bedroom and ending in the Kitchen. He cleaned it exactly how she’d like it and when he was finished around 3:32 am he sat on the couch and sighed

They were right… She would yell at him if she saw the way he was, how the house was when she died

—————————

After a few years pass it’s before the entire Village situation. Every week since the funeral Chris visited her grave and just talked to her for a bit. On her birthday he spent almost half the day there, on new year’s he watched the fireworks by your gave.

He still hasn’t moved on since her death he can’t even get into another relationship with a woman since her death but it’s not like he can find anyone else like her… and honestly he didn’t want to.

IM SO FUCKING SORRY FOR MAKING THIS EVEN SADDER tbh tho I started tearing up writing this

[babybluebex]

english love affair [tom holland x reader]

➽ pairing: tom holland x fem!reader ➽ word count: 2.1k ➽ summary: you attend the bronx school of science, and you’re immediately taken by the new student: ben perkins. ➽ warnings: deception ig?  ➽ a/n: PART 1! no idea how many parts this is gonna be, but stick around! (taglist link is in bio)

As soon as you stepped off the bus, you heard the chattering that only came from one occurrence. A new kid. That confused you, though. It certainly wasn’t unheard of for kids to drop in halfway through the semester, but, at your school, it was rare. The Bronx School of Science was an elite high school and it took amazing test scores and the grace of God to get in, so a new kid in the middle of the year was a rarity. 

You saw him the moment you walked into your first period chemistry class. After all, he was the only face you didn’t recognize. Dark, curly hair that was just a bit long, with rosy cheeks and wide brown eyes. He seemed nervous; as new kids usually were. He wore a red hoodie, his hands shoved deep into the front pocket, and he was looking all around the room. The seat next to him was empty and, while it wasn’t your usual place, there was no formal seating chart. “You new?” you asked, swinging your backpack to the floor. 

The boy looked at you with a keen alertness in his dark eyes, and he swallowed thickly. “Yeah,” he laughed softly. He sounded a little Queens, maybe; perhaps even Brooklyn. “Just, uh… Just moved here.” 

“Nice,” you said. “From where?” 

The boy clenched his jaw. “Queens,” he said, and you nodded. 

“Well, welcome to the Bronx,” you laughed. “I’m Y/N.”

“Ben,” he said quickly. “Ah, Ben Perkins.” 

“Ben Perkins from Queens,” you repeated. “What brings you here?”

Ben shrugged. “Parents,” he mumbled simply. Ben seemed like a guy of few words, but you didn’t mind too much. It was a welcome change from the other guys at your school who wouldn’t shut up. 

You decided to not really say much to Ben. If he didn’t feel like talking, you didn’t want to push him and make him uncomfortable. The first day at a new school was stressful. “If you need help with any classes or anything, just let me know. Getting into the routine here is hard as shit.” 

“Thanks,” Ben told you with a nod. “That’s quite nice.” 

You couldn’t place why the usage of the word “quite” tickled the back of your brain. Maybe because you had never heard anyone use it like that. “You’re quite welcome,” you replied, biting the tip of your tongue. Ben looked at you and the rosiness in his cheeks grew deeper as he smiled. 

The class started normally, until your teacher got to the Ps on the roll sheet. “Oh!” she cried. “We have a new student! Benjamin Perkins!”

Ben’s face grew red, this time not from laughter. He gave a quick two-finger to the class, and he mumbled, “Just Ben is fine, actually.” 

“Welcome to the Bronx School, Ben,” your teacher said. “I’m sure you’ll do great here.” 

About halfway through the lesson, you looked at the boy sitting beside you. He wore jeans and scuffed sneakers with the red hoodie, a dark curl bouncing along his forehead as he looked at the board and diligently copied notes. He was cute, a lot cuter than any boys you knew, and you wondered what he was like when he was in his element. His hands were big, veins popping as he gripped his pencil tightly. You took a second look at the mechanical pencil, and your heart soared. Quickly, you ripped a page out of your notebook and scribbled a quick “i like your pencil :)”, and you passed it over to Ben. 

He tore his attention away from the lecture for long enough to look at your note, then at the pencil. It was red and blue with various white spiderwebs all around it. You liked the Spiderman pencil; your dad had practically raised you on the Toby Maguire Spiderman movies, so you liked anything Spiderman. In fact, you had been Spiderman for Halloween three years in a row when you were little. Not Spiderwoman, you said, Spiderman. Ben wrote something down and gave you the paper back, and you bit your lip as you read his message. 

“spiderman’s pretty cool i guess. you like the movies?”

“yeah!! toby maguire’s awesome”

“cool. i like them too :)”

You invited Ben to sit with you at lunch, and he did. You usually sat alone, and you secretly liked having Ben there with you. You two talked about Spiderman, mostly: how Toby was a better Peter Parker but Andrew Garfield was the better Spiderman. “You know,” you started. “In the comics, Peter Parker becomes, like, an intern for Tony Stark. Tony makes him this suit and he becomes the Iron Spider.” 

“Really?” Ben said. His eyebrows went up, and he scratched at a few upturned hairs. “That sounds cool.”

“I wish they’d add Spiderman to the MCU,” you added. “I think he’d fit really well with everyone, ya know? I mean, I guess they’d have to cast the right guy, but…” You shrugged. “A girl can dream, right?” 

“Sure thing,” Ben said. “I like Robert Downey Jr. a lot, he seems really fun.” 

“Oh, definitely!” you agreed. “And Chris Evans! Man, I’d love to meet them, I would just die right there.” 

Ben smiled and nodded along with you, and he slotted his chin into his palm as he listened to you chatter about Avengers: Age of Ultron and Ant-Man. There was a hint of a smile on his lips, and you stopped mid sentence when you noticed it. “I just think Elizabeth Olsen is so underrated, and-- Ben. You alright?” 

Ben blinked a few times. “Yeah,” he said. “M’all good. Just listening to you.” 

You flushed. “I’m not talking too much?” you asked, feeling the urge to sink into yourself. “I’ve been told I do that.” 

“No, not at all,” Ben said quickly. “I like it. I like how people get when they get excited about something, you know? It’s cute.” 

“Cute,” you repeated, rolling the word around your mouth. Did Ben just call you cute? Or did he call the whole concept of your dumb blathering about some movies cute? Did that still qualify as calling you cute? You raised your eyes to his and, nervously picking at a loose thread on your sweater, hazarded, “You think I’m cute?” 

Ben shrugged. “I mean, yeah,” he said, as if it was obvious. “You just seem so passionate about those movies. I would listen to you talk about them for a long time.” 

“You wouldn’t want to.”

“I do,” Ben said quickly. “I promise you, I don’t mind one bit. I’d tell you if I did.” 

You nodded again, and you scooted just a bit closer to Ben. “For the record,” you started. “I think you’re cute too.” 

Ben smiled, little dimples appearing in his cheeks. “Cool.” 

Before the day ended, Ben had given you his phone number. “I don’t have Snapchat or anything,” he said. “Strict parents, ya know? But I’d love to talk to you.” 

You liked the way that Ben texted. He used a lot of emojis and even a few goofy emoticon faces, a la 2012, and he signed every text off with xx. With texting, you felt like Ben was a little more open than at school, probably because it was just the two of you, completely private. And, man, did the boy talk. He sent two, three, four messages in a row, just spewing thoughts the second he thought them. You didn’t mind one single bit, though; but your parents did. 

Even though the sound was off and your phone was in your pocket, the entire dinner table could hear your phone buzzing. “Is someone calling you?” your dad asked. “Your phone just keeps going off.” 

“Oh, no,” you said, your face going warm. Quickly, you pulled out your phone and set it completely silent, and the buzzing ceased. “Sorry. Just texts.”

“From who?” you mom asked. 

“A boy from school,” you began, fully intent on explaining the situation, but your little brother was quicker to the uptake than you. 

“Ooh, Y/N has a boyfriend!” he squealed. 

“Shut up, you little fungus!” you hissed. Brothers of any age were unbearable, but 13 was an especially difficult age, you had come to find. 

“Don’t call your brother a fungus,” you mom sighed. “That boy’s texting you an awful lot, though, Y/N.” 

You shrugged. “He’s new,” you said. “Just asking questions about school and stuff.”

“And his name?” your dad asked. 

“Ben Perkins,” you said. “He just moved from Queens.” 

“He’s a senior?” your mom asked and, when you nodded, her eyebrows creased. “That poor boy, moving schools in the middle of his senior year. Well, good for you, making new friends. I bet he really appreciates you.” 

Tom slumped himself down on the couch. You weren’t answering his texts and, while he knew that you probably had homework or were eating dinner or any number of other things, he couldn’t help the anxiety that filled him at the thought that maybe he had scared you off. 

Tom hadn’t had a normal high school experience by any means. Sure, secondary school was a thing that was semi-normal, but normal in the sense that everyone around him was in the same boat. And he was certain that British secondary school was a hell of a lot different than American high school. Hence, the joke that had landed him here.

“It would be funny if I went to an American high school for a few days. Just to see what it’s like, ya know?” 

Apparently, Anthony and Joe Russo didn’t seem to understand his British sense of humor, because he was on a flight to New York within the week. The Russos had helped him come up with the bare bones of a backstory: Ben Perkins, originally from Queens. American. 17. Quiet. It was a far cry from Tom Holland, originally from London, British, 19, and loud. But the Russos, in their infinite wisdom, had seen through Tom’s joke and understood something that was integral to the character that had taken Tom a few days to really see. 

Peter B. Parker was a high schooler. A smart one, an unusual one, but he was still 15 and trying to understand himself and the world. Tom didn’t have that knowledge; at least, not in the way that Peter Parker would have had it. He needed to see the inside of an American high school to get to the core of his character, and even Tom understood that. The filming for Captain America: Civil War hadn’t started and the news of Spidey’s introduction into the Marvel Cinematic Universe hadn’t hit the airwaves yet, but Tom knew that, if his contract was to be upheld in the way that Sony and Marvel had promised, he would have plenty of time to use this high school experience to better the character. 

Tom really and truly did not intend to develop a crush on a girl. Yes, a beautiful, smart, and funny girl that shared a love for the same things he did, but he was sure that the Russos would disapprove of it. After all, he was only slated to go to the Bronx School of Science for three days. There wasn’t nearly enough time to have anything more than a crush. But you. There was something about you, something intangible. He had felt a pull in his stomach when you first walked into the room and, when he had texted Harry about it, his brother had only laughed at him and made a joke about wanting to get his dick wet. And, yes, while that thought was in Tom’s mind, you were already so much more to him than that. 

As much as Ben Perkins was a character, Tom felt like he could be himself around you. He had shared stories from growing up, mostly about his brothers pulling shenanigans, and had shown you pictures of him and Tessa when he had first gotten her. The little squeal and sigh that had left you when you saw the puppy made his heart swell. Then, he had said something that still made his stomach turn: “Maybe you can meet her soon.” 

What a great fucking thing to say to someone that he would have to abandon in three days. Sure, he could keep texting you after he left, but he would have to explain everything to you. He knew what your reaction would be, too; somewhere along the lines of laughing at him and going, “Dude, you’re fuckin’ nuts, bro.” Or, on the other end of the spectrum, getting mad at him for lying to you. He was sure that you would be more mad than amused. And, after the conversation that you two had shared about your requited love for Spiderman, he knew that trying to tell you wouldn’t land him anywhere except alone again. 

And, God. Tom was tired of being alone. 

[written-on-the-trees]

Chris Motionless Fan Fic - From Beyond The Grave

Prompt: Haunted

Word-count: 2150 words

Warnings: mentions of murder

Description: Chris has haunted his house for two hundred years, and scared off every member of the living that has dared to come near it...until this one

Author’s Note: Bonus fic for Chris Motionless's birthday! It was another long one for this series, but I just couldn't resist. I had so much fun writing this, I hope the man who's birthday inspired it had as much fun for his birthday just as much - and everyone else has fun reading it.

Lambs to the slaughter…

   Various members of the living crowded around the front of the house, running around like headless chickens, trying to set up everything they could before it got dark.

 What they were trying to set up, Chris wasn’t sure. It had been quite a few years since any of the living had dared to trespass into his domain, and it seemed technology had come quite a way since he’d seen any of it. He didn’t really care. No matter what contraptions and contrivances the living brought with them, they weren’t going to get rid of him; they couldn’t. He’d haunted this old house for over two centuries, ever since he’d been hung, drawn, and quartered, and had his remains hung from the rafters of the very attic he was now standing in - or perhaps floating was a more fitting choice of words.

 Chris didn’t really care about his choice of words.

 What he cared about was removing the ridiculous breathing humans scurrying about outside his house, about to disturb him. It was a mistake on their part; it had been a long time since Chris had had any entertainment other than re-reading the few crumbling books that had survived this long, and so he’d had plenty of time to plan what he would do to any possible intruders.

 It wasn’t going to be pretty.

 But it was going to fun.

 Very, very fun.

 He knew ghost hunters when he saw them, no matter how much their technology had changed, and knew they intended to ‘put this spirit to rest’ - which was something Chris had no interest in. With every passing anniversary of his death, he got more and more powerful: soon he would be able to seek out the descendants and statues of the ‘brave’ men who had killed him, and enact his revenge. Only after that was done would he go peacefully into that goodnight.

   Until then…time to have some fun.

   Smirking coldly, Chris dematerialized and sunk through the floor.

 The short, stout woman who currently owned the land that the house stood on was allowing two men in through the front door. Her face was pinched with worry, but the two strangers didn’t share her good sense: looking around the house with curiosity.

   “I can definitely feel something.” the first man, who had hair that was a rather unfortunate shade of dish-water brown: “A very strong presence.”

 His compatriot, a taller man with eyes that shifted from side to side nervously: “An evil presence.”

 “The ghost doesn’t like the living coming into the house.” the landowner remarked - from her spot just outside the front door: “It tends to react…violently when confronted.”

 “Violently?” Nervous Eyes asked.

   Why let her tell them, when I can show them?

   Remaining invisible for now, Chris used his power to make the floor under their feet groan, making the house sound like it was in agony.

 The landowner squeaked, and Nervous Eyes jumped backwards, but Dish-Water’s eyes only sharpened. He scanned the room, eyes pausing in a few locations, but never one Chris was in. It was obvious that he wasn’t one of the few members of the living who had the Sight, who could still see him even when he was invisible to most living beings, but he was far too interested in this situation when he should be scared.

 Chris was going to have to get rid of him.

 And he was going to enjoy it.

   “Get Willow in here.” Dish-Water demanded, looking his compatriot: “I want to see if she can see it.”

 Chris doubted that this Willow could, but he still ducked out of sight of the door as Nervous Eyes went out to do as he was told - returning a few minutes later with the sound of someone following him…someone who froze outside: “No.”

 “No?” Dish-Water rolled his eyes: “What do you mean ‘no’?”

 “I mean there is someone in that house that very much does not want me or any of us to be in there with them.” the new voice replied: a young woman, by the sound of it, her voice quavering slightly: “We should leave.”

   Ah, a young woman with some sense.

   Unfortunately, Dish-Water did not share her good sense, the same as he didn’t share Nervous Eyes’: “Just get in here, Willow, and do what we pay you for.”

   Willow hesitated for a few seconds, before doing as she was told - and making Chris freeze in place.

   Rosalie…

   It wasn’t his Rosalie; upon second glance, Chris could see that this Willow was not the woman he had once loved and now despised, but rather a pale imitation. Where Rosalie’s skin had been perfect porcelain, this woman’s face was splattered with freckles. Rosalie’s hair had been a rich shade of auburn, like a fine brandy, whereas Willow’s was the colour of damp autumn leaves. And Rosalie’s eyes had been a captivating feline green - Willow’s were a plain hazel.

 The two women were most definitely not the same, merely similar…but it was enough to ignite the fury that had been simmering low in his chest for a very long time.

 Without thinking, Chris buckled the floorboards under Willow, Dish-Water, and Nervous Eyes’ feet, sending the three of them stumbling backwards before they were knocked down. He buckled more floorboards, chasing them out of the house, before slamming the front door shut behind them - and still his rage burned. The window frames rattled, the walls roared, and the railings on the porch shook, and Chris still felt himself shake with anger, until the four living humans raced off of the porch.

 The landowner almost threw the keys to the house at Dish-Water, who stormed over to his truck, prompting Nervous Eyes to trot obediently after him. Dish-Water shouted commands at the assembled members of the living before driving away in his car with Nervous eyes, and soon all of them were packing things back into their vehicles, and leaving just like their boss had. Only Willow looked back…filling Chris with a vicious sense of anticipation.

 He wanted her to come back.

 So he could tear her limb from limb.

      Hours later, after the sun had set and the moon had risen high in the sky, Chris felt a quiet presence approaching the house.

 Willow had returned, and much quicker than Chris had expected.

 She looked scared as she walked the house, but her steps were certain nonetheless. As much as the urge to murder her the same way he wanted so desperately wanted to murder Rosalie, Chris couldn’t deny Willow’s strange mixture of fear and determination was…curious. Very few humans had ever come to his house twice, and those who had had never had the good sense to know they should be afraid of him. Willow was very clearly afraid of him, and yet she was still approaching the house.

   Curious indeed.

   “Um…hello.” she called, pausing at the foot of the porch steps: “It’s Christopher, isn’t it? I did some research in town, apparently you’ve been here a long time.”

   Chris knew that couldn’t be the only thing she had learned from her research…but he still had no answers as to why she had returned her.

 So he allowed her to keep talking.

   “I know a little about ghosts…enough to know that, based on the amount of time you’ve been haunting this place, you’ve likely had enough time to gain the ability to turn corporal. And enough time to get bored.”

   Chris couldn’t argue with either of those statements.

   “So I brought you some books.” Willow carried on, gently placing a decent-sized bag on the front of the porch: “I wasn’t sure what you read when you were alive - the history books said you were educated, so I grabbed some books on history, non-fiction books, and some classical fiction as well. There’re also a few modern books in there - horror stories.” she rambled: “Andrew will probably kill me for giving you ideas, but…I don’t know…seemed appropriate. You liked scaring us, I could feel your satisfaction…and your murderous rage…so I figured maybe you’d like horror…”

   Chris honestly wasn’t sure what ‘horror stories’ were…and equally honest, he didn’t really care.

 Fresh books were fresh books, and this woman had just left a pile of them on his front porch. A woman he had wanted to murder a few hours ago, all because of her unfortunate resemblance to a woman she had nothing to do with…

 The thought made Chris feel rather guilty.

 He was no stranger to murder - before or after he’d been murdered himself - but he’d never killed an innocent person before. The thought that he’d been angry enough to kill a woman in cold blood, over something as inconsequential as a fleeting resemblance, was enough to make his stomach turn. Especially when it was a woman who was kind enough to gift him with so many books, even after his earlier performance.

   “I owe you my thanks, for the books.” he said to the now-stunned Willow: “And an apology, for my earlier behavior.”

 Willow swallowed nervously, but nodded her acknowledgement: “I accept your apology. And your thanks.”

 “That is very kind of you, but I still find myself in your debt - ”

 “Oh, you really don’t - ”

 “Please,” Chris asked, knowing he couldn’t stand to feel like he owed this woman for being so kind as to bring him gifts when he had behaved so awfully to her: “There must be something I can do to make amends for scaring you so badly this morning.”

 Willow smiled, the expression nervous, but somehow still soft and sweet: “I mean…there is something…but it may seem a little strange.”

 Chris couldn’t deny his unease at a ghost hunter, one with the Sight no less, asking him for something ‘strange’…but he’d hear her out if it meant he may absolve himself of his misdeeds: “What is it?”

 “I know I can see ghosts when they’re non-corporal…but I don’t know if I can feel them. Do you know if I can? Or would you mind if I tried to hold your hand to find out?”

   It was a little strange…but Chris couldn’t see the harm in it.

 Instead of answering, Chris stepped forwards and returned to his non-corporal state before reaching out a hand to Willow.

 She smiled gratefully and reached up with her own hand, gently extending her fingers until they were tangled though his.

 The heat of her skin burned, but that didn’t stop Chris from involuntarily clenching his hand. It felt like he’d just stepped close to a roaring fire after being out in the cold - he had thought he could still feel differences in temperature after he’d gained the ability to become corporal, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of Willow’s skin.

   “I…I haven’t felt warmth like that in a long time.” Chris explained himself, finally realising that Willow was looking at him with an alarmed expression: “I apologise. I’ve scared you again.”

 “No, no, I…uh…I get it.” Willow rushed out: “I wasn’t born with the Sight; I gained it after I died for three minutes on an operating table. Being able to see ghosts wasn’t the only thing that changed…everything just seemed so much…more for a little while.”

 Her alarmed expression had turned into one of understanding, and Chris couldn’t deny that that was soothing: “I’m sorry to hear of your traumatic experience. You seem remarkably well adjusted for someone who gained the Sight in later life. Many…do not seem to deal with the new ability very well.”

 “It was hard.” Willow agreed: “But I got through it, mainly because I had good friends around. I couldn’t tell them what was wrong - they would’ve thought I was crazy - but they were still there to give me a hug when I needed one.” She paused, as if thinking something through for a few seconds, a cautious expression overtaking her face once more, before she smiled nervously: “Would you like one?”

   Chris couldn’t remember the last time someone had offered to hold him - even before he’d died.

 He’d led a solitary existence, removing men who’d had no right to exist from the Earth when the law couldn’t or wouldn’t, and the only woman who’d appeared to show any interest in him romantically had been pretending to lure him into a trap at the behest of her lover.

 A hug from Willow would likely be excruciating - both from the temperature of her body compared to his own, and from the fact he hadn’t been held in almost a quarter of a century…but Chris thought that it might be worth the pain just to be held. Especially as Willow did not exactly seem opposed to the idea.

   “I would.” Chris replied to her: “I very much would.”

[before-whatgod]

How I Would Fix the MCU Movies (in chrono order)

Black Widow is mentioned but there are no spoilers! also this is super long sorry lol

CA:TFA

--More time with the howling commandos- instead of a montage with their battles with sit with them and feel their struggles. we feel not only capt’s grief but everyone on the team when bucky ‘dies’. idk would have loved to see more of a band of bothers bond 

Captain Marvel 

--I saw/read somewhere that her story could have work really well with a similar structure as CA:TFA and i agree. they were so concerned with making carol look powerful that they forgot to give her the fiery/badass personality we were promised. there was too much telling not enough showing 

Iron Man 

--Literally Nothing. Perfect. Great Intro to the series. 

Iron Man 2 

--again really solid movie i wish the villains were a bit more developed by tbh this is my fav iron man movie 

The Incredible Hulk 

--babes i dont even remember this movie its super cool they keep rossi around from it tho. hes literally the only thing the mcu kept from this monstrosity i would keep a similar plot structure but with mark ruffalo and a better script and tbh a better evrything. cannot tell you where to start with this jesus   

Thor 

--would have liked to see of the personality thor has later on in the timeline line- but it is interesting to think maybe he developed his humor and friendliness from his time on earth, idk this movie was kinda dull? i mean everything is dull compared to ragnarok and better compared to the dark world so idk how to fix that- maybe less of chris’s weird screaming- definitely less of chris’s screaming 

The Avengers 

--honestly love this movie-great set up to the team dynamics wouldn’t change anything. i love the nostalgia i get from watching this  

Iron Man 3 

--another movie i dont really remember but? this is the one with the bunny right? i feel like after iron man 1 the quality of tony’s enemies has gone down hill but i could watch rdj do anything so overall good experience 

Thor: The Dark World  

--besties what even happened in this movie like, jane babes what are we doing. loki is as amazing as ever tho. but like ‘oh no lokis dead again whatever are we going to do’ i would simply through the whole thing away- keeping jane going to asgard, loki being dramatic, and the relationships of the asgardian gang we get to see. also the reality stone thats pretty important 

CA:TWA 

--I. Love. This. Movie. my fav in the whole timeline. can you tell im a capt girl? literally the best wow won’t change a thing 

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 1

--so! much! fun! i love their family dynamics and tbh i love peter quill (we all did until pratt was a dick but) 

Guardians Vol. 2 

--I wasn’t obsessed with this movie but I cant quite figure out how i would change it- it was visually beautiful and emotionally beautiful but idk something felt off until the very end 

Age of Ultron 

--hot take- i really like this movie. i like how it completely changes the direction of the series and makes the mcu feel so real, like the friend ship seen- i would have like more clint so his character arc in endgame would have been impactful i dont hate the farm family but man i sure dont love them jesus but yea i love the dialogue and the only thing i would really change is clint’s involve meant. also helen cho deserved to have a bigger part in the mcu 

Ant-Man 

--super fun! i feel like this movie is great the way it is- a familiar super hero movie when the series was starting to get pretty dense with the lore wont change anything 

CA:CW 

--i read somewhere this movie was originally going to be steve and sam and the rest of the squad finding bucky and i was robbed. over time the mcu starting telling us how great steve and buckys relationship was instead of showing us. like men can show each other affection marvel that is a thing that happens but tbh i loved this movie- i would change a lot but i still really enjoyed it 

Spiderman: Homecoming 

--its so cute i love it but I miss andrew garfields peter- he felt more like the comics but besties i love this movie and tom i would just change how ton is characterized to be more comic actuate but also maybe not idk 

Doctor Strange

-- tilda swinton owns my heart and sole. but imma be honest i saw this in theaters 3 weeks after a horrid concussion and i remember none of it and thinking about it makes me sick (love head trauma) so imma just leave it how it is 

Black Panther 

--nothing. its art. 

Black Widow

--I’m writing this around an hour after I watched the movie and tbh I dont know how I feel about it. I dont love it yet but im not quite sure why yet- its most likely the pacing it felt a little rushed to me but idk yet ill be able to gather all my thoughts in a later post prolly 

Thor: Ragnarok 

-- to think i can even dream to improve on anything taika waititi is putting bad karma into the universe. that man is a genius. you can feel just how comfortable everyone is in their characters which makes for a great performance

Ant-Man and the Wasp 

--the breather we all needed after iw but i dont think anyone really loved it- no idea how to fix it but yknow it was just bland 

Avengers: Infinity War 

--I loved it. I loved it so much. obviously there are some bad things here and there but i would not change a thing 

Avengers: Endgame 

--I hated it. I hated it so much. obviously there are some good things here and there but i would not keep a thing. 

(I have in fact written an essay about said topic bc i felt so passionate about it i did not know what else to do)

Spiderman: Far From Home 

--I dont know something was off for me with this one- again I think it was a pacign issues but I am not sure how I would change it 

I might do the tv shows in another post- but if i do those i want to include the netfilx marvel tv shows as well as the agent carter and agents of shield series(es?) 

anyway thank you for reading all of this if you did!

[fullmetalscullyy]

the way it was - chapter 28

summary:  what if riza never went to war?  riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

read on ao3

1914

never thought love never thought life

could take us far beyond what we believed

as long as i got your love next to me

better than i used to be

“So.” Rebecca threw herself into the chair, barely waiting for Riza to even sit down at the table in the back room of Chris’ bar. “What has been going on in Central, Riza?” Her voice was hushed as she leaned forward eagerly in her chair.

Rebecca’s urgency had startled poor Sheska before Riza could even greet her with a hello. Eyes owlish but full of concern, Riza paused as she turned to greet their friend.

“I’ll tell you all that I know, but it’s not much,” Riza replied. “But first,” she added, turning to face Sheska, “hi.”

“Hello,” Sheska nodded. A timid smile overtook her concern, but the crease in between her eyebrows quickly returned. “What’s going on?” Nerves had settled in Sheska, making her shift in her chair and also tip forward to hear what Riza was going to share.

Poor woman. Riza felt for her. When she’d called and invited Sheska out it really was to spend some time together of an evening, but now she would be dragged into this whole thing. That’s not what Riza wanted for her.

Resigning herself, Riza let out a sigh. “I really don’t think here’s the best place at the moment –”

As if on cue, someone approached from behind Rebecca. The woman’s expression changed as she walked, moving from neutral to breaking out into a bright grin as soon as she made eye contact. Given Riza’s current circumstances after her talk with Fuhrer Bradley, she was instantly on guard.

“Riza Mustang?”

“Yes?” Riza eyed the woman up and down. She appeared to be innocent enough. Her brown hair fell just past her shoulders, sitting in a side parting. Hair was curled behind one ear, the other side falling forward as she smiled kindly down at Riza in her chair.

“Hi, my name is Irene. My husband is Lieutenant Colonel Andrews.”

Irene spoke as if this would answer all of Riza’s questions, but it created more. Remaining wary, she eyed the woman as Rebecca and Sheska did the same, although the latter did it rather shyly, her head angled to look down towards the table before them.

“Sorry to interrupt your evening with your friends.” Irene continued to smile at the other two women, noticing the suspicion on their faces. “I just wanted to pass on my congratulations to you and your husband. A new addition to the family is always something wonderful to celebrate, and my husband and I wanted to pass on our regards to you both.”

Irene held out an envelope for Riza to take, which she did. Eyeing the paper and weighing it by touch alone, it felt like there was a card held within. Giving it a gentle squeeze to test, whatever was inside was tough but not indestructible to break. It bent gently underneath the pressure. Remaining wary, Riza schooled her expression so that it appeared as neutral and grateful as possible while accepting it.

“That’s very kind of you both, thank you,” Riza replied.

“We’ll be thinking of you both during this time,” Irene added, meeting Riza’s eyes straight on. For whatever reason, something held Riza there. Irene’s eyes widened pointedly, as she gave a tiny nod of her head. “Let us know if there’s anything we can do,” she grinned, that look in her eyes gone. Without another word, she turned and left.

“What was that all about?”

Riza placed the card down on the table, giving it one gentle pat before retracting her hand, hiding it underneath the table. They both joined, her fingers wringing together with uncertainty. “I honestly don’t know.” She was just as baffled as Rebecca.

“That was nice of her, though,” Sheska added, trying to see the best in the unexpected interaction.

Another woman approached, the same as Irene did, offering the same message and sentiment. This time it was a woman named Rose, whose husband was Sergeant Cairn, recently transferred from East City. Angela followed after her. She was an older woman, the wife of Major Cole. These names all meant nothing to Riza, however they may to Roy. These women, all coming forward with the same meaningful look in their eyes, obviously all meant something, but Riza didn’t want to open up the cards in public. There was no telling what would be inside. They were inconspicuous enough, just like a normal greeting card, but Riza couldn’t help but wonder.  Perhaps… If she could slip behind the bar for a few minutes…

“I’ll be right back.”

She’d been lost in thought and had unintentionally interrupted Rebecca and Sheska’s conversation. They both looked surprised at the sudden disruption, watching as Riza subtly swiped the cards into her purse.

“Is everything all right?” Rebecca's eyes were searching Riza’s, trying to get a read on her mood. Admittedly, she’d been out of it that evening as she mulled over each woman’s message, trying to make sense of it all. It was bothering her so much that she was going to leave her friends to find out.

“Perfect,” Riza smiled as best she could. “Just need to use the bathroom.”

It wasn’t a lie, Riza thought as she left the two of them at the table. A quick detour on her route would allow her to open those envelopes in peace and find out what they contained.

“Is everything all right?”

Riza was startled by the sudden appearance of Roxanne. Her green eyes were scrutinising Riza carefully, unwilling to back down. Tonight, Roxanne’s hair was tied back into a high ponytail, the long brown locks looking luscious and healthy in the lights of the bar. It swished from side to side eagerly whenever she walked, catching the attention of all she passed by. Calming her heart rate, Riza scolded herself for being so absent from her surroundings.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

Roxanne’s eyes narrowed.

“Really, I am.” Riza lifted the three envelopes in her hands. “I was handed these tonight. It’s been bothering me that I don’t know what’s inside. Would you mind if I go inside the house to open them?” Riza nodded at the ‘staff only’ door.

Roxanne broke out into a smile and tutted, rolling her eyes fondly. “As if you have to ask. Of course you can! Come on,” she ushered, opening the staff door for Riza.

She was guided inside, entering a hallway that Riza knew well. Just ahead, to her left would be the living area where they spent most of their time when visiting Chris. Taking a seat, Riza let out a breath and balanced the envelopes on her lap. There would be nothing held within the pastel pink, white, and blue paper that would attack her, but why did she experience such a foreboding feeling? Perhaps it was just the unknown. Giving herself a shake, Riza tore open the seal of the one on top, from Irene.

Riza blinked.

Inside was a ‘congratulations on the birth of your child!’ card, but a note slid out from between the stiff paper, removing Riza’s attention from the well wishes.

Weston arrived at the store today, was the first neatly written sentence on the page. Esther is not the fondest of him but puts up with his appearances for Susan’s sake. Ursula likes him though, along with Poppy and Preston. The twins have been fighting over his affection, much to Oliver’s dismay. The poor boy is so crestfallen at their diverted effort but won’t give up the fight. The same can be said for Rosalie. She feels the same way towards the dear boy, but Thomas has been diverting her attention as of recent. We think she may be susceptible to his charms. As for Yuri, he’s still focussed on furthering Oliver’s studies, much to his chagrin, but Ursula is good at pushing him towards where his attentions should lie, and away from such frivolous things.

“What?” Riza muttered is aloud, wondering why this would note would be included in a congratulations card –

Suddenly, Roy’s game popped into her head. In Riza’s mind, memories of ‘I love you’ stories, littered about their home, overwhelmed her. This was a message. This story was a message to her and Roy.

Dropping the thoughtful card, Riza picked out the names quickly and read the coded message.

We support you.

Peeling open the second envelope, and the third, Riza found a similar sentiment in each. Relief tugged her lips into a smile, and she sat back against the cushions of the couch.

“Everything all right?” Chris appeared from out of nowhere, almost startling Riza.

She turned quickly, nodding to her mother-in-law. “Yes. Everything’s fine.”

“What’s that?” An eyebrow raised, looking down on the cards sitting in a pile haphazardly on her coffee table.

“Messages of support…” Riza turned back to eye them. “For Roy, from other soldiers stationed in Central Command. Their partners handed them over to me tonight.” Lifting the congratulatory cards, Riza waved them gently. “Along with these.”

She had been so focussed on the coded stories that she didn’t properly look within the cards. A note fluttered free from the confines of the stiff card, floating onto Riza’s lap. Squinting at it, she lifted it delicately into her hands.

“Along with a gift too, it seems,” Chris chuckled.

“It’s money.” Riza blinked at it, dumbfounded that those women would gift her and Roy with money on the birth of their new-born child.

Chris shrugged. “People do that. It saves them having to worry about buying a physical gift,” she added. “Then you can go out and buy what you need for the kid yourselves.”

Riza was left to stare at the five hundred cenz note in silence as Chris wandered away.

Well, it was an immense relief that despite the sudden relocation of his team, Roy still had people behind him who were willing to support and lend their aid. Riza’s fears of his future were appeased for the moment, knowing there were others out there who looked up to him and were willing to fight Bradley as well.

Pocketing the envelopes in her purse, Riza stood and slipped back out the staff door to the bar. Passing the bar itself, she ordered another water and waited for it before returning to their table.

“You were away a while,” Rebecca commented upon her return, her voice low. “What was in them?”

Glancing up, Riza saw Rebecca frowning, instantly on guard to whatever the envelopes contained within.

Placating her worry, Riza shook her head and gave her old friend a reassuring smile. “Just some well wishes and support.”

*      *      *

“Wait.”

Roy sat up straight in bed, a thoughtful look overtaking his face. He motioned for the envelopes Riza had already opened. She’d already explained what was held within – the cards, the monetary gift, and the coded message to him.

“What?”

“Can I see them for a second?”

Wordlessly, Riza leaned over to her bedside table to pick them up before passing them to her husband.

Roy removed the card, ignoring the paper that held the message, and shook it, letting the note float onto his lap.

“Kids get us money too?” He picked up the note. “Oh damn,” he muttered, “we need to have more kids.”

Riza hit the back of her hand off his elbow gently.

“I’m kidding!” He didn’t sound like it. Roy was eyeing the note with a curious but excited look.

“We’re not exploiting our children for money.”

“… What if I took them to the office?”

Riza’s frown deepened.

“Y’know, everyone is aware I’m a family man,” Roy continued, “it would be nice to show off the kid.”

“To get money from your colleagues?” Riza’s eyebrows shot up towards her hairline, daring him to confirm that was the real reason behind his plan.

“I mean,” he scoffed, “that’s what people do, right? When someone has a baby? Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to –”

Riza hit the back of her hand off his forearm this time, but slightly harder. It caused his arm to falter slightly, the joint giving way as the limb tried to distance itself from her hand.

“Hey!”

“That’s what you get for thinking of exploiting our kids,” Riza snapped back.

“I was just making an observation!” Roy exclaimed. “That is what people do when kids are born. You wouldn’t believe the amount of kids I’ve had to shell out for over the years,” he grumbled to himself. “About damn time it was my turn.”

Riza scoffed, lifting her eyes to the ceiling as she rolled over in place, pulling the sheet over her shoulder and making herself comfortable.

“I’m kidding, Dear,” Roy crooned into her ear as his arm wrapped around her stomach.

“Sure you are,” she replied, not believing him for a second.

“It would be a benefit though, right? You have to admit that.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she barked.

“I’m joking!” The hand that had been around her stomach shifted, moving away and into the air in a show of surrender. “Sorry I mentioned it.” Roy rolled away from her, settling into the bed with a sigh.

The room was silent for short bout as Riza continued to frown at his insinuation. Ire was festering in her chest, causing a light burn. They would not use their kids to get money from strangers. Even if it was a traditional gift, it made her uncomfortable and she wanted no part in it.

“Sorry.”

His apology was soft and quiet, filling the room. It smoothed out her frown and put out that spark in her chest. It fizzled low, turning to an ember before leaving her completely. Her shoulders relaxed, peeling down from her ears as a deep breath left her lungs. That breath calmed her, giving her time to think.

Riza rolled back over, seeing Roy on his back, staring up at the ceiling. His lips were pursed and off centre, a sign he was chewing something over in his mind.

“Sorry I snapped.”

Dark eyes met her own. The crease in between his eyebrows slowly disappeared, the skin of his forehead smoothing out.

“Sorry I upset you,” he replied. “I won’t bring it up again.”

Riza huffed quietly. “I don’t mind jokes. I don’t know what came over me.”

“It sounds like it was a mood swing.”

Her irritation spiked again. Opening her mouth to reply, offended at his accusation, Riza stopped herself. His eyes had widened in realisation that he’d set her off again. There was a fear in them too which stilled her tongue. Riza’s mouth promptly closed, accepting her hormonal reaction.

“I guess it was, yeah,” she agreed sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Roy replied simply. He rolled over to face her, brushing her fringe from her face and curling a strand of hair behind her ear. “I opened my mouth without thinking. Again. And I’m sorry I brought it up. I was just joking, though.”

“I know you were.” Her head turned, pressing a gentle kiss against the wrist that was resting by her face. Roy had cupped her face with his hand, his touch warm and gentle, as well as comforting.

“Did the mood swings happen a lot with Mia?”

“I don’t think so.” Riza cast her mind back, trying to remember. It didn’t feel like it. But then perhaps it was biased to ask her. “I don’t remember.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

“I don’t want to feel like I’m going to snap at you every two seconds though,” Riza frowned, but at herself. That behaviour wouldn’t do at all.

Roy shrugged. “We’ll work through it. It won’t be the first mood swing in the family and it won’t be the last. In a few years, Mia will be all over that,” he grinned.

Her head bowed in defeat. “I hope we don’t end up with a moody teenager.”

“I do too,” Roy chuckled. “But, like I said, we’ll get through it. Be as understanding with her as we can and give her the space she needs.”

“It sounds like you’ve been through this before,” Riza commented wryly.

“I grew up with so many sisters, remember? I learned my lesson after the first shoe was thrown at my head,” he winked.

Riza gasped. “Who?”

“Roxanne,” Roy laughed. “I was bugging her too much and she’d had enough.”

“You were a little shit as a teen, so I can totally see it.”

Roy’s mouth popped open in shock. “Riza Mustang!” he exclaimed.

“What?” she giggled.

“I was not,” he scoffed, scandalised.

“You’re remembering differently.”

“No, I think it’s you that’s remembering it differently, Ma’am,” he accused, poking her shoulder gently.

“Don’t poke me,” she pouted, poking him back.

“What are you going to do about it, huh?” His provoke came with a wide grin, reaching right up to his eyes and causing the corners to crinkle.

It reminded Riza so much of the boy she grew up with and the innocent young man she’d fallen in love with. It came out in rare moments, but it was heart-warming to see. Underneath the lines and scars life had left him with, Roy was still Roy, and he loved her completely, just like she did him.

“Why don’t you tell me what I can do about it, Colonel?”

Roy hummed, shuffling over to her side and rolling Riza onto her back as he kissed her forcefully. Propped up on an elbow, his free hand moved to cup her chin, holding Riza in place as they broke apart and Roy stared down at her with so much love in his eyes, it felt like she may cry.

“I love you, Riza,” he smiled fondly, a hint of his mischief still remaining, dancing playfully in his eyes.

Bending his head, Roy pecked her lips once, then her nose, then her forehead. His freehand moved from her chin to rest upon her stomach. The ends of two of his fingers were resting on her bare skin, making Riza gasp quietly. Slowly, as his head bent to claim her lips once more, Roy’s hand moved and slipped underneath her pyjama top, his touch hot as his thumb caressed her skin lovingly.

“Love you too, Roy,” Riza breathed, eyes fluttering closed as his touch relaxed her immediately.

Then suddenly, a massive yawn overtook Riza. It was loud, making her eyes water, the moisture bunching at the corners.

Roy just laughed. “Looks like someone is tired,” he murmured.

She almost snapped at him again for moving his hand, but a wave of fatigue overcame Riza before she had the chance.

“Sleep, love.” A kiss was pressed to her forehead again, making Riza melt at his touch. Roy cuddled into her side after turning off the lights. His face was buried in her hair, his lips resting just above her ear.

“Love you,” she mumbled tiredly.

“Love you too,” he laughed quietly, returning his hand to her pregnant stomach once more, this time, above her pyjama top. It was the warmest, most comfortable, and most relaxed Riza had felt in a long time.

[electric-curls]

This post got me thinking about Andrew and Sam and prompted this ficlet set in 1968. 

The function room of the Black Rock Hotel was hot and stuffy, packed with people, mostly men, that Andrew didn’t know. There were a few familiar faces, although he couldn’t put a name to them all. They seemed to know him however, and his arm ached from the number of hands he’d shaken. The woefully under-catered buffet that he’d ordered had gone in the first half-hour and he’d hoped the crowd would thin but showed no sign of doing so. Taking the opportunity of a brief moment without yet another guest telling him yet another anecdote, he made his way through the hotel foyer and into the small lounge bar.

“Scotch, please,” he told the young barman, “single malt, if you have it.”

He’d taken one sip when a voice behind him said, “Andrew?”

That voice, he’d know it anywhere. He turned to look at her. Slim, elegantly dressed, her hair shorter but still honey-blonde; she was beautiful. The only thing that spoiled the impression was the smudged eyes. She’d obviously been crying, moved by the ceremony.

“Sam,” he said quietly. “How are you?”

“Damn silly question,” she said, “Gin and tonic, please. With ice.”

“How many years has it been?” he asked, guiding her to a corner table with high backed armchairs.

“Too many,” she smiled, “Twenty? It was the opening of the new wing at St Thomas’s, wasn’t it?”

Andrew grinned, remembering. He’d been invited to that hospital opening by a doctor friend, and who had he found there but Dad’s driver, Samantha Stewart. Only then, she’d reminded him, she was Mrs Samantha Wainwright working for the Ministry of Health. They’d gone out for a drink and chatted about old times. She still looked the same. He couldn’t take his eyes off her then or now.

“How’s your wife?” she asked, “and your son?”

She’d remembered. Twenty odd years and she’d remembered.

“Ellen, well, she, um, she died, five years ago.” It didn’t make his throat close any longer, saying those words.

Sam leaned forward and put a hand on his arm. “Oh Andrew, I hadn’t heard.  I’m so sorry.”

He nodded. “But Stephen’s well, thank you, He’s here somewhere.”

“Somewhere, yes” Sam repeated. “There are so many people. Not surprising though, considering. And you, Andrew? How are you?”

He deliberately misunderstood her question.

“Taking early retirement soon, can you believe? Have to think of something to do.”

Sam looked directly into his eyes. “Write a book?  I could be your secretary. Easier job than the one I have, that’s for sure.”

They exchanged reminiscent smiles. “And your family? You had a daughter, Dad told me, a couple of years after he came back to Hastings?

“Julie, yes. She and Chris have both flown the nest now, of course.”

“Right. Just you and Adam, then…” He broke off when he saw her face.

“Just me, actually. Adam and I, we, well, we aren’t together.” She shrugged. “We sort of drifted apart and he moved out when Julie started secondary school.”

“Sam, that’s awful.”

“No, It was a relief, actually, when I kicked him out. I kept the house and the children and he pays us a decent allowance.”

“Really? Does he have much to do with the children?”

Sam muttered something under her breath that Andrew couldn’t catch.

“No. He’s far more concerned with his career. He leaves us alone and I’m glad about that. If he ever tries to interfere I threaten him with divorce – and he’d do anything to avoid the scandal of that.”

Her voice was tight. Andrew thought about the Sam he’d known so long ago and hated that she seemed to have become so hard.

He tried changing the subject. ““Well, Sam,” he said, “It was good of you to come. I had no idea how to contact you. How did you find out?”

Samantha smiled, her face more mellowed now.

“Paul Milner, of course. We exchange Christmas cards so he knew my address.”

“I’m glad.” Andrew smiled. “Glad to see a friendly face. Never thought there’d be so many here.”

“Your Dad was well liked and respected, Andrew. Of course people want to pay their respects.”

She leaned forward so that her hair brushed against his cheek.

“And I had to be here,” she said softly, “After all, Mr Foyle said often enough that he couldn’t go anywhere without me. So this time I took him at his word.”

Andrew choked back a sob. It was the Sam he remembered, the Sam who made his heart sing, the Sam he’d been stupid enough to let go.

Sam’s arms gathered him in a warm embrace. “You miss him, I know.”

“I miss everything, Sam. Dad, Mum, Ellen and… you. Do you ever wonder how things might have been if…”

Sam’s finger pressed against his lips, wet from his tears. “Shh, Andrew. It’s no good regretting the past. Much better to make our own future.”

What was she saying, he wondered. Could she really feel the same as him? Was there still a chance? He sat up and wiped his eyes.

“Sam,” he started, to be silenced by her kiss.

[aion-rsa]

The Craft: How a Teenage Weirdo Based on a Real Person Became an Icon

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“We Are The Weirdos, Mister.” A phrase you’ll find printed over t-shirts, pin badges, mugs, earrings, tote bags, necklaces, and more all over the internet. It’s the most iconic line from The Craft, a film released 25 years ago that still has a rabid following today. For anyone unfamiliar with The Craft, it’s a line spoken by Fairuza Balk’s Nancy, an inferno in black lippy and sunglasses, the de facto leader of a homemade coven made up of outsiders who have taken the raw deal the world has given them and rejected it by learning to harness the power of nature. This line is everything. We are no longer going to be victims, it says. We will no longer be afraid. We reclaim our space, our power. That we are four teenaged girls will no longer mean we have to watch out for ‘weirdos’ – because it is us who are the weirdos. Mister. 

“Nancy is the one everybody wants to be,” says Peter Filardi, the man who created Nancy, Rochelle, Bonnie, and Sarah all those years ago, chatting to Den of Geek from his home, an original poster for The Craft peaking out from behind him on the wall. Next to it is a poster for Chapelwaite, the series Filardi is currently showrunning with his brother Jason, based on Stephen King’s short story, “Jerusalem’s Lot,” a prequel to Salem’s Lot.

“Nancy is the one who is particularly put upon and who finds the power to get revenge or get justice and is going to do that with no apologies. I think it’s how we all envision ourselves or would want to see ourselves, I guess. Here we are 25 years later. Why do you think we’re still talking about it?”

It’s an interesting question because we very much still are talking about The Craft. With Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, A Discovery of Witches, His Dark Materials, and of course last year’s remake of The Craft, we appear to very much still be in the season of the witch, but none is quite as resonant and impactful as the original The Craft. Watching it back 25 years after its release, it’s still just as relevant.

The very first script that Filardi sold was Flatliners, the story of arrogant, hot-shot medical students who plan to discover what happens after you die by “flatlining” for increasing lengths of time. Filardi’s script prompted a bidding war and the movie became a big hit, starring Hollywood’s hottest: Kiefer Sutherland, Julia Roberts, and William Baldwin. 

After Flatliners, Filardi had been working on a script about real life teenage Satanist Ricky Kasso, (“He was one of the first to really put the hallucinogenics together with the music and the theology and then sort of brew them all up into this really volatile cocktail,” Filardi explains), so when producer Doug Wick approached him about another supernatural project, Filardi was game.

“He said he would like to either do a haunted house story or something to do with teenage witches. And because I happened to be working on what I was working on I was pretty well-schooled in earth magic and natural magic and Satanism and all sorts of stuff. And we just started talking, and we hit it off, and we decided to develop and create The Craft together,” Filardi recalls.

At the time Wick had just two full producer credits to his name – for Working Girl and Wolf – but he would go on to produce swathes of heavy hitters including Hollow Man, Jarhead, The Great Gatsby, and win the best picture Oscar for Gladiator. Meanwhile, Andrew Fleming, director of The Craft and co-writer of the screenplay, had made horror thriller Bad Dreams and comedy Threesome, and would go on to make several comedy movies as well as many hit TV shows – he’s currently working on season two of Netflix’s popular Emily in Paris.

Filardi’s story was always going to be about women, and it was always going to be about outsiders, the memories of high school still fresh enough for him to remember the pain. “I’m sure it’s like this for every kid. You have memories from those high school years of horrible things that happened to people around you, or were said or done and just the petty cruelties,” he says. “I’m glad I’m an old man now!” (He’s not, he’s 59).

Rewatching and it’s certainly striking how much empathy you feel for the girls. Sarah (Robin Tunney), who is the audience’s way in to the movie, lost her mother during childbirth and has battled mental health problems, even attempting suicide. Recently moved to a new neighborhood with her dad and step mother, she is instantly the outsider at her new school, and is immediately treated abhorrently by popular boy Chris (a pre-Scream Skeet Ulrich), who dates her and then spreads rumors that they slept together. Rochelle (Rachel True) is a keen diver, subjected to overt racist bullying by a girl on the swim team, while Bonnie (Neve Campbell) hides away because of extreme scarring she has all over her body. Before Sarah arrives, the three dabble in magic and protect themselves as best they can from the horrors of high school by telling people they are witches and keeping them at arm’s length. It’s the arrival of Sarah, though, a “natural” witch with some serious power, that turns things around.

“I think that maybe traditionally Hollywood would have done a version where the women were witches like Lost Boys,” Filardi says. “The women were witches, and they had this power, and they’re the dark overlords of their school or something like that. And that’s exactly the opposite of what worked for me and how I thought magic works in general. 

“Magic has always historically been a weapon of the underclass, for poor people… Think of England. People of the heath, who lived out in the country… The heathens, they didn’t have a king or an army or the church even behind them. They would turn to magic. And that’s kind of what I saw for our girls. For real magic to work, you have the three cornerstones of need and emotion and knowledge. And I hate magic movies where somebody has a power and they just do this and the magic happens. I think it’s much more interesting if the magic comes from an emotional need, a situation that really riles up the power within.”

These witches aren’t evil and they aren’t even anti-heroes. Instead, this is pure wish fulfilment for anyone who’s ever been bullied, or overlooked, or been dealt a particularly tough hand, and this level of empathy comes across hard in the film. Watching now and so many of the themes are so current with reference to issues of racism and the emergence of the #MeToo movement.

“I did not write it as a feminist piece per se,” says Filardi. “I really just wrote it as an empathetic human being, I think.”

There’s extreme empathy dripping throughout the script, but don’t mistake that for pity. The Craft deals in female empowerment and just plain fun. It’s here that one of The Craft’s enduring conflicts arises. Are you Team Sarah or are you Team Nancy?

The correct answer of course, is Team Nancy…

“It’s always harder to be the good guy or the good girl,” laughs Filardi. 

After all, before Sarah shows up, the other three are doing fine – surviving, doing minor spells, and looking out for each other. The influx of power Sarah brings allows the group to up their game and together they each ask for a gift from “Manon,” the (fictional) deity who represents all of nature that they worship in the film. Bonnie wants to heal her scars, Rochelle wants the racism to stop, Nancy wants the power of Manon, but Sarah casts a love spell on Chris. Sarah is either taking revenge on Chris, or she’s forging a relationship without consent, and it’s a move which eventually leads to Chris’s death. 

Meanwhile, Nancy is someone who just refuses to be a victim, despite the fact that of the four she’s clearly had the toughest life, living in a trailer with her mum and her abusive stepdad. Nancy won’t allow the audience to pity her. Nancy doesn’t let things happen to her, she makes her own choices, whether they are good ones or not. When newly empowered Nancy is running red lights, with Rochelle and Bonnie whooping in the back, and Sarah telling her it’s all gone a bit far, “Oh shut up, Sarah” feels like the right response. While Sarah might be technically correct, we are rooting for these girls to be allowed the pure joy of something they have created between them.

Nancy is an amazing creation, and Filardi says he couldn’t have anticipated how much the character would resonate.

“I did not envision the great look that Andy Fleming brought to her,” he smiles. “But Nancy was inspired by a real girl, whose older brother lived in a trailer in their backyard, and just had a hard go of it. She’s true to the one I wrote. She always embodied the earth element of fire. Each of the girls is their own earth element. There’s earth, wind, water, fire. And you can pretty much guess who’s who…” 

We could speculate but it’s perhaps more fun to let the audience decide for themselves.

“Nancy in the beginning was always the constructive aspect of that element. She’s the light in the fire in the dark woods that draws the girls together,” he explains. “When she’s all passion and raw nerve, she’s very much like fire, but then when she crosses Sarah and gets overwhelmed with the power of her new abilities, she becomes the destructive side of that same element and burns the whole thing up. But she’s a fantastic character. I think that Fairuza Balk just elevated Nancy to a whole other level. I guess that’s what happens when you’re blessed with the right actor for the right part.”

Exactly who the true protagonist of The Craft is is something Filardi still contemplates. What is notable is that though, yes, Nancy, Bonnie, and Rochelle do at one point try to, um, kill Sarah and make it look like suicide, which isn’t a very sisterly thing to do, they never really become true villains. By the end, the only fatalities are sex pest Chris and Nancy’s abusive step father, and both deaths could reasonably be considered accidental. While Bonnie and Rochelle are stripped of their powers, they aren’t further punished, it’s only Nancy who gets a raw deal. Driven to distraction by her surfeit of power, we find her ranting in a mental hospital strapped to a bed. 

Filardi’s ending was different, though he won’t be drawn on details.

“The original ending was different. I’ve never really gone into the detail of what the original ending was. Well, the original ending was just different…” he says, mulling over what he might say. “So, let’s see. Well, Chris always died… and it was just very different,” he hesitates. “I don’t really get into it because there’s no real sense. It is what it is. I always like in a movie… Having two different children and you love them both for different reasons, but I would have never wanted to be hard on the girls in the final analysis in any way thematically.”

One element of the script that saw slight changes was the motivation of Rochelle, after the casting of Rachel True. 

“To be honest, I think she was the exact same character. She was picked on by the swimmers. There was an added element that she had an eating disorder. She used to vomit into a mayonnaise jar and hide it on the top shelf of a bedroom closet. But other than that, she was really the same character,” he says. “Andy Fleming and Doug Wick, I don’t know who came up with the idea, but they cast Rachel and she added this whole other element to it, the racial element, which I think it was great and I think totally appropriate.”

Though Filardi didn’t work on the remake and hasn’t actually seen it, he’s able to see for himself, first hand, how well the film has aged and how it continues to endure for young women – he has teenage daughters of his own.

“I see them going through all the same stuff that I watched girlfriends going through. And it hasn’t changed all that much,” he says ruefully.

“It’s funny. For years, they had no idea what I did for a living. I think they just thought I hung around in the basement. And one daughter was like… She was going to school with somebody whose father was in a rock band or something, ‘Nobody in this house does anything interesting. Everything’s boring.’ And it was around Halloween and they were showing The Craft at the Hollywood Forever cemetery. I took them to the cemetery and it was great. There were boys dressed in Catholic high school uniforms and women all in black and with blankets and candles and wine and snacks. Amidst the tombstones, they set up a huge screen and showed the film. So, that’s when they first saw it. And it was really fun. A really nice thing to share with my daughters.”

Things don’t change that much. High school is still horrible. Magic is still tantalizing. The outfits are still fabulous. And Nancy is still a stone cold legend. The Craft is an enduring celebration of outsider culture that we’ll probably still be talking about in 25 years to come. After all, most of us, at one time or another, feel like the weirdos. 

“I think of it as the story about the power of adolescent pain and self-empowerment. I think of beautiful young people who are just picked upon or put in positions they shouldn’t be or don’t deserve to be, and having the ability to fight back and weather it and survive,” says Filardi when we ask him what he’s most proud of. 

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

“I’m also proud of all the great contributions that the other talented people brought to the script. All I did was a script, but you have actors and directors and producers and art directors and production designers who just… Everybody seems to me to have brought their A-game. I didn’t come up with Nancy’s great look. Other people get all that credit. Like you said, you see her on t-shirts. So, so many people just brought so many things. I guess I’m just proudest to think that a bunch of strangers come together and connect to the message of the piece, and together just make something memorable all these 25 years later.”

The post The Craft: How a Teenage Weirdo Based on a Real Person Became an Icon appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[ingek73]

The Simon CASE: Throw Your Brother Under The Bus!

By Kristine Welby June 16, 2020 19 Comments

The Simon Case

Pool/Samir Hussein

The Simon CASE: Simon Says…Throw Your Brother Under The Bus!

“When Someone betrays you, it is a reflection of their character not yours.”

Last summer as Harry and Meghan were being slammed by the press literally for every breath they took, came word that they had flown to France on a private jet. They were dubbed hypocrites for taking a private jet after talking about the environment. Harry never told anyone not to fly, and Meghan never spoke about the environment. But they were both excoriated in the press and on social media. Of course, no fake outrage would be complete without fake pundits on various talk shows lambasting Harry and Meghan for the destruction of the environment.

When it was revealed that Sir Elton John had paid for the flight and paid to offset the carbon footprint, the conversation switched to “debunking the myth” of carbon offsets. Harry and Meghan were declared eco-hypocrites, despite the fact that William, in his efforts to outdo Harry, has spoken of the environment as much as Harry, and had even flown by private jet to Davos climate change forum. His attendance seemed nothing but grandstanding, since all he did was interview Sir David Attenborough. An interview which could have been done remotely, since environmental degradation is such a concern for him. This might sound trivial, but underscores the fundamental unfairness of the media’s attitude towards Harry. There is no shortage of perceived “hypocrisy” if one is determined to find it. But I guess it depends on where said hypocrisy needs to be found.

There was also the fact that William and his family had only just returned from their vacation on an exclusive private island, accessible only by private jet. And if that were not enough, we had the Queen’s favorite son flying hither and yon in private jets, in the midst of renewed outcry about his connection to convicted sexual predator Jeffrey Epstein and Prince Andrew’s alleged sexual abuse of a trafficked minor. No private jet outrage there. Instead, when they were not attempting to equate Prince Andrew’s amoral actions to Harry and Meghan flying by private jet, they were ignoring Prince Andrew in favor of berating Harry and Meghan.

Then, just as it seemed the squall was reduced to a drizzle, along came pictures of the Cambridge clan boarding a commercial flight to Balmoral. £73 flight they declared, with pictures of the Cambridge family cosplaying ‘regular’ folks, with father and children carrying their own bags. It was a double whammy! William and Kate were not only heralded as frugal but of course environmentally conscious for flying commercial. That of course ignores the fact that Meghan and Harry’s personal travel is always privately funded and Sir Elton had paid for their trip; you can’t get more frugal than free.

Rebecca English tweet

“Stunt, stunt, stunt,” cried the people. “Obvious,” said the blue check.

William and Kate flight stunt

And it was, but wait there’s more. In the fanfare of the tabloids erecting a statue in honor of William the conqueror of duffel bags, came word from a real reporter with the Scotsman – There were two empty jets. The now defunct airline, Flybe had flown two empty planes, 500 hundred miles so they would be sure to have a commercial jet befitting the man waiting for his father and grandmother to pass…on the scepter. If Harry and Meghan’s small private jet was going to destroy the planet, then two empty commercial jets should spell the end of our galaxy. Harry clarified that flying private was for security reasons, which also apply to the rest of the royal family. Remember, this was not long after two men went to prison for plotting to kill Harry, because according to them, he was a “race traitor”, not to talk about the threats to his wife.

Of course, the people who seem to embrace their role as mouthpiece for KP, came out. Fully recovered from directing their fake outrage at Harry and Meghan taking a private jet, they were ready to switch to fake outrage in defense of William and his obvious stunt.

Emily Andrews and Chris Ship flight pr stunt

As with the jet stunt, we saw the denials for what they were, “fake”.

And then nearly a year later, this happened. An article about Simon Case of Kensington Palace who is now off to support the non-elected ruler of Britain – Dominic Cummings.

The Spectator’s tweet of the article about his departure proudly proclaimed:

“Boris’s new man in No. 10 was behind Will and Kate’s budget flight to Balmoral – when Harry and Meghan were criticised for flying by private jet says Camilla Tominey”

Simon behind Will and Kate’s budget flight

What the tweet should have said was: “It was a stunt.”

And a poorly thought out and executed stunt. By any objective measure, it was a failure. People immediately knew it was a stunt, and treated it with the ridicule it deserved. It did not affect change, except with the people desperate for any excuse to think William and Kate worthy of their privileged position. For those of us who think privilege should be earned not gifted, we saw William as a backstabbing, entitled, duplicitous craven bully. In the middle of a propaganda campaign against his brother and (post-partum) sister-in-law, William decided (or agreed) that it would be an excellent idea to do that, to attempt to embiggen himself.

If, as KP’s press minions originally claimed, the flight had been arranged months in advance, why did Flybe have to scramble( moving empty jets hundreds of miles) at the last minute to position a Flybe-branded plane on a route that was operated by their codeshare partner Loganair (eastern airways) in order to “maximize press coverage for the airline”? Was there a prior expectation that their royal passengers will be pictured on the flight and hence the need to “maximize press coverage”? Had the flights been arranged far in advance as the press mouthpieces insisted it was, the airline could have positioned the planes without costing themselves money by way of 2 EMPTY flights. And why is Camilla Tominey now making special mention of Case’s role in that fiasco? Was he in his role, KP’s reservation specialist? If not normally, why did he take interest in that particular flight?

We do know that the flights arrangements were made on the eve of their departure per the Scotsman. A flight that was obviously positioned to portray William and Kate as “better” and more “responsible” than Harry and Meghan. And why are we now receiving confirmation of what we suspected from the beginning? Is it a coincidence, that revised versions of old rumors (tights-gate, private jet, KP leak) are being trotted out now? Revisions we suspect are closer to, (but still not) the truth. All these revisions still manage to position William and Kate as the victims. Apparently, Kate was justified in claiming to have a temper tantrum because the bride got the final say for her own wedding party; or that the backstabbing of Harry and Meghan via media propaganda was engineered by someone else and William and Kate merely went along? I don’t know why they think either proposition makes them look good.

If Simon Case was the ‘mastermind’ behind the media war waged by the future-future King against his brother and sister-in-law, then Mr. Case is an unfeeling, amoral manipulator. After all it was under his watch that the (pregnant) Duchess of Sussex was subjected to a coordinated campaign of harassment by the British Media. It was under his watch, that Tim Shipman of the times wrote in his famous article, excerpts below.

“This sense of embattlement has been entrenched by William’s decision to reach out to senior figures in the media as he prepares for kingship and by the apparent decision of those same newspapers to side with the palace over Meghan and Harry by peddling the most negative coverage of the duchess’s relationship with her father, Thomas Markle. “Harry sees that as part of the headwinds against him,” a friend said.”

It is Case who was credited with encouraging William to attempt to sideline Harry and his popular wife, which led to rumors of exiling them to Africa.

“…the Duke of Cambridge has been encouraged by his private secretary, Simon Case, who says he believed that a period of separation between the two brothers would help them to define themselves better and also improve relations between them.”

“In some ways it would suit William to get his brother out of the country for a few years and Meghan as far away as possible,” said one friend of the brothers.

Sending the couple to Canada was “mooted, then booted” given that Meghan spent seven years living there and for some it was “too close to the US” and the inevitable tabloid magazine coverage that would ensue. Making Harry governor-general of Australia was discussed and dismissed. The problems were obvious. “The trouble is that you effectively set them up as king and queen of a whole separate country,” according to one source. “And 24-hour media means that Australia is not as far away as it used to be.”

Here we are today, Harry and Meghan have stepped down as working royals, and moved to the United States of America, home to the media capital of the world. The public knew the economy plane trip was a stunt. We knew the leaks were coming from inside the Palace. No one but trolls believed the tights (or is it skirt length?) story. William will be remembered as a twat who on a state visit told the world that the media was hyping up COVID-19, even though at the time, hundreds were dying daily. Yet the apparent architect of the clusterf*ck, Simon Case, is credited with turning William into a statesman(yes) and it was his “success” at KP that lead Britain’s bumbling prime minister to invite him back to No. 10 Downing St.

As it were, the latest Spectator article only seeks to confirm what every rational and logically thinking person suspected was a calculated move by William’s court to hurt is brother. One has to wonder when all these facts became known to Camilla Tominey. Also is she the only reporter who is privy to these facts? Why were some in the royal rota adamant that flight arrangements were made far in advance? Did they question the seeming improbable coincidence(ahem) of the Cambridges and their brood being pictured boarding a domestic flight, whose exact price(£73) they seemed to know even after the fact? Or were they just willing to give William & Kate the benefit of the doubt, which they never extend to Harry and Meghan? So many questions still to be answered. If I were a betting woman, I will bet my last penny that there are more Cases to be unveiled. Stay tuned.

[blue-eyes-and-auburn-hairr]

Second Chances Chp. 4

Disclaimer: Okay, I got more notes than I thought I ever would, so while the world is quarantined...I wrote another part.

Warning: Mention of death, fluff, I don’t want to mislead anyone this will very much be a slowburn

Summary: Can you imagine being widowed at such a young age to a man you thought you’d have forever with? On the anniversary of his death, on top of a mountain, Thea and Chris begin their new journey together.

(I want to experiment with a different perspective if its trash I’ll redo this chp. )

Thea had no idea why it was so hard to ghost this guy. It should be easy, they hung out for half a day a week ago. He should already have her out of his head, but no he still continues to call. 

“Ms. Mulligan I finished reading the chapter what should I do now?” Thea’s 3rd period reading support class was currently working on finishing their novel. She would typically read to them but her mind had been scattered all week. 

“Kay, why don’t you draw a picture of your favorite chapter so far on the smartboard?” Thea prompts, knowing that Kay loves to draw and she really is interested in the novel...even if she won’t admit it. 

“Can I listen to music, puhleaseee?” She spins around with a great big smile on her face. 

“As long as you don’t blast it and its not that Billie Eye Lash person,” Thea rolls her eyes with a smirk knowing what would follow. 

“Mully, you’re embarrassing yourself you know her name is Billie Eilish because I’ve stalked your Spotify playlist, right Kai?” Kai, who was too busy reading the next chapter to even look up when she responds, “Yeah Mully, we are currently working on one of those mixtapes for you so be prepared.” 

The nickname Thea fought for a good three months but finally caved when her co-workers started using it as well. As for the Spotify stalking, not surprised more impressed and she was now looking forward to the next mixtape they give her. 

Last semester, Thea assigned the class a project that required them to find a song to coincide with each chapter of their novel. The students also had to write one paragraph explaining why they choose each song. That was when the revolting started for about 20 minutes until Andrew, in the back of the class, had enough and shouted, “She is legit letting us listen to music all class period and write like 10 paragraphs for a week. The other students have to write an essay on like literary devices or something and they had to read the book all by themselves.” 

“Legit?” Kay announced shocked.

“Legit Kay, legit,” Thea sighs, “Also we have like 78 words on the word wall can we work on using one of those instead of ‘legit’?” 

“Bet.” Kai says with her hand in the air and at that point, Thea just puts her head down silently laughing. 

Her phone buzzed on her desk again, this time it was just a CNN update but the missed call was still staring her in the face. All Thea has felt since that night was guilt. She felt like she was cheating on Jamie and all they did was hug before getting in their own cars and driving away. The bubble burst though on the drive home when the waterworks wouldn’t stop and she had to pull over on the side of the road almost three times. 

And then Sunday morning, her phone rings and she watches as it goes to voicemail and then it vibrates again with a voicemail. She stares at her phone for a few more minutes before playing the message. 

Hey Thea, I just wanted to call and check in on you. You never messaged me when you got home last night and I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Leaving West Point now and you were right I think I definitely made the guard’s day.  I’m sure you are busy getting ready for the school day tomorrow but if you have a second to talk I’m around. Okay, take care now. 

He called one more time that evening but no message. It was now Friday and Thea had five missed calls and two messages in total. She did not know how to process all of this and she had been burying herself in work trying to stay busy avoiding the topic. She did that with most things and she knew it wasn’t going to end well and that she was being selfish. So she picked up her phone and tried to type out a text, but then the bell rang and the class started to pack up. 

“Okay, guys I’ll see most of you in 7th and 8th for Math, make sure to have your homework notebook, hint, hint hint,” Thea says with a wink. She knew their anxiety would soar if they walked in not knowing about a homework check so she always made sure she casually mentioned something to them. Her co-teacher was not a fan of this, but her kids, her decision. 

Thea now had a prep period and then lunch to try and sort out all of her thoughts. She even had time to call Chris back, but she did not trust herself to keep her emotions in check, especially while at work. 

Hey Chris, Sorry for the disappearing act. I’m still just trying to process everything and work has kept me occupied. Can we talk tonight? Text, call or even facetime if that’s easier.  Sorry again. 

Chris’ phone finally vibrated in his pocket as he was walking out of a bagel shop in New York City. He was supposed to make his way to Boston to see his family after his trip upstate but that was sidetracked by some work stuff. 

His new movie, “Captain America: Civil War was being released in a few weeks and he had a few talk shows and then the Lower Manhattan premiere was on May 4th. He knew he was going to be in town for some time now and wanted to see Thea again. 

She just didn’t want to see him. 

He had no idea what he did wrong and wanted a chance to see her and explain that. So when she finally answered him back he wasn’t sure how to respond. He would prefer to talk in person but did not want to upset her or whatever else he may have done. He tried to call his brother for some advice but that call went to voicemail as well, but his mom picked up on the first ring. 

“Chris, honey you okay?” 

“Yeah Ma, I just needed a little advice and Scott didn’t answer,” he admits to his mother.

“Well, why would you call him before me? Does he give better advice or somethin’?” This was a rabbit hole Chris would very much like to avoid. 

“It’s about a girl Ma, he already knows most of the back story,” Chris sighs through the phone.

“Ahh, so this is about the girl you met on the hike, well more like Dodger found, who you had to call your brother about in the bathroom while on a date with her?” 

“Wait what? We weren’t on a date and wow did he really tell you everything?” Chris says in complete shock. “And let the record show that I called him when SHE was in the bathroom.”

“Of course he did, I’m his mother, he tells me everything” cue the eye roll. 

“Okay Ma, and yes I called Scott, obviously that was a mistake,” Chris chuckles “He apparently blabbed everything.” Chris still wasn’t sure why he called his brother when Thea went to the bathroom, he just was so happy for the first time in a while that he needed to tell someone.

“So this is the girl that you’re going to marry, huh?” His mother bluntly states, causing Chris to almost drop his phone. 

“What the fuck did Scott say? Who said anything about marriage? We talked for like four hours and she has been avoiding me all week.”

“Scott said you were going on and on about how you finally ‘found her’ which is why he called me 20 seconds after hanging up with you.” Thank goodness for the ballcap and the glasses or all of NYC would see the flushed cheeks of Christopher Evans. 

“Okay, can we circle back to that whole topic later? Or maybe after I have a word with my kid brother. How do I ask her to meet up with me tonight when she only wanted to talk on the phone? Is that too forward? Should I just say yes to the phone call?” Chris continued to ramble to his mother. 

“It can’t hurt to ask,” such a simple response and yet it was perfect. “Just mind your manners, you were raised better Christopher.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Chris says finally smiling because he has a plan. 

“And if you need to call anyone on this date, call me not your brother,” she chuckles on the phone. “Love you and let me know how it goes.”

“Love you too”

Hey Thea, a phone call would be perfect unless you would want to meet up in person? I’m still in New York and would really like to see you again. If you wanted to meet in the city or someplace by you...whatever is easier. 

Thea wanted to act like she was shocked by the message but she understood. Jamie and her relationship started out as long-distance, so when you have the opportunity to see someone in person you jump. 

She didn’t know if she was ready for all of this, but she also knew it wasn’t fair to Chris. They needed to talk and put all of their cards on the table.

I would like to see you again too, but whatever is easier for you.

Long Beach is about an hour train ride to the city, but not sure would be better for you with people and stuff. 

You could also come here and we could get some ice cream and take a walk on the boardwalk? If that doesn’t sound too cliche...

The bell is going to ring so no rush we can figure this out after school. 

Thea finally stopped blowing up his phone by her overthinking and put her phone in her bag for the rest of the school day. 

The afternoon went by in a flash, Thea waited until she got into her car after school to look at her phone. 

Not cliche at all, that sounds perfect. I can be to you by 7, just send me the address of the ice cream shop 

Thea forwarded the address and then made her way home. She had a few hours to kill before she would see Chris so she tried to busy herself with things to do to prevent the overthinking. 

Chris on the other head couldn’t stop the overthinking and the worst-case scenarios that played out in his head. He has so many things to worry about with the movie and all the press but he cannot get her beautiful smile out of his head. 

He just didn’t know what it was about her, everything about Thea just seemed authentic. She had been dealt such a tough hand that would make any person cold and distant, but she still wears her heart on her sleeve.  Even Dodger could see her genuine soul and stepped in to defend her when we were on the mountain. Chris just wanted to get to know her better, he thought he might miss out on something unbelievable if he just walked away. He also understood that she was still so hurt and wanted to help her in any way that he could. 

Chris thought about that while driving down to the ice cream shop and pulling into the parking lot a few minutes early. He spotted Thea as she was laying down a blanket in the trunk of her Jeep. He could only see the back of her and he was glad she was wearing something comfy and casual. It made him feel better about his jeans and t-shirt that took him an hour to finally commit too. He parked his car and made his way over to her, he closed his truck door loudly and called her name so he didn’t startle her. She didn’t turn around, she was too busy struggling with her own nerves. She had been fixing this blanket for a good 10 minutes and trying to decide whether or not it was lame and if she should scrap the whole idea. She didn’t even have a clue that Chris was behind her for a few minutes before she actually turned around with a jump. 

“Sorry, I was trying so hard not to scare you but you didn’t respond when I called your name a few times,” stumbled with his words. 

Thea kept a hand over her heart trying to steady her breathing and when it was finally calmed she looked up to see Chris’ concerned expression. 

Thea couldn’t help but laugh, “Well you looked like the last time we met too, only I had a knife in my hand and yet you look more scared now.” 

And just like that the tension that had worried them both had broken as Thea walked over to give Chris a big hug. They make there way over to the line and ordered two sundaes and then head back to her car. 

“I figured we could sit here while we ate our ice cream and then head to the boardwalk, its a few minutes away but I didn’t want the sundaes to melt” 

Chris continues staring at his ice cream trying to find a way to ask the question that had been driving him crazy all week. He didn’t know how to phrase it without making the situation worse. 

Thea scoots back into the car and sits like a pretzel, “So let’s talk about it before the elephant in the room gets any bigger.” Thea used to be all about beating around the bush but after everything that happened, time is one thing you can never get back. 

“Did I do something to upset you? I have been trying to figure out why you didn’t answer and I am coming up short” Chris admits finally looking away from his ice cream. 

“You did nothing wrong and I don’t want to sound like an asshole when I say that this had nothing to do with you,” Thea says while running her fingers through her hair. Chris sits patiently giving her a second to collect her thoughts. 

“I want to explain this right, so please take everything I say with a grain of salt because I am bound to put my foot in my mouth” Thea sets the stage with a disclaimer because she is absolutely terrified of the direction this could go. 

“You know that feeling when you are exercising or playing a sport and your breaths are coming shorter and the tightness in your chest is growing? You can still breath but it’s a struggle and you cannot wait for it to subside? And then finally you stop and you catch your breath and the air in your lungs fills again and you know you are going to be okay?” Chris nods along to Thea’s analogy trying to see where she was going with this. 

Thea takes a second to collect her words again, “Chris, I have been trying to catch my breath for three years now and no outlet, no resource, nothing was helping. The panic attacks while I was awake and even when I was sleeping, I just couldn’t...” Thea tries to collect herself shaking the tears from eyes refusing to let them spill. “And then I ask Jamie for a sign that it’s okay for me to stop running and I turn around and there you were” Thea clears her throat again.

“And Chris, I finally started breathing again.”

“Then we hugged and I got in my car and started to drive away and all at once it was gone and my lungs were aching and I was terrified and lost all over again” Chris is not sure at what point he reached for her hand but he was gently squeezing it as Thea continued to shake her head. 

“Out of nowhere, I was angry at myself that I let this happen and how I was a fool for thinking I could be normal again.” Thea pulled her hand away, “I woke up to the text you sent me and then the guilt set in. I felt guilty being happy with you and wanting to answer you and then guilty because I was not being fair to you and then guilty because we only knew each other for a few hours and I was giving so much power to something that wasn’t real.”  She swirls the melting ice cream in her lap, “and now I am just sad because sitting here with you right now with all these emotions I am breathing just fine.”

“And I am scared of what will happen next.” 

Chris had no idea how to react to all of this, she had so many layers and so much going on and unintentionally he hurt her. Thea was right though this wasn’t about him but the fact that he was helping and hurting her at the same time was making his head spin. Nothing was sitting right with him and maybe ice cream wasn’t the best choice because his stomach was churning. 

“I don’t know what to say, the thought that I am causing you pain, it makes me sick. Why would you say this isn’t real though?”

“Chris,” Thea sighs “I don’t know, you’re you and I’m me and I am talking this Chris not that other guy so don’t jump to conclusions. I am filled with scars and a heart that may never work again. You are so sweet and caring and could be anywhere right now and yet you are here with me eating ice cream in my trunk. We only talked for one evening, it just doesn’t make sense.” 

“Isn’t that how all great stories start though, with a great evening that leads to many more?”

“Chris, the only thing I can offer you is a hand to hold and friendship, I don’t think I can handle much more and that’s not fair to you.”

“Deal, sold, I’ll take it. Now let’s head to the boardwalk before it gets too chilly” Chris says while taking the melted ice cream and tossing it. 

“Wait what?” Thea says completely taken back. 

“I am not done getting to know you and I have a feeling this will all be worth it,” Chris says with a smirk. 

“Chris, I really don’t…” Chris cut Thea off, “I’m an optimist so let’s just enjoy each other’s company, okay?” 

Thea nods and recommends that Chris should follow her back to her apartment building to leave his truck so that they can just walk from there to the boardwalk, parking was bound to be crazy on this warm spring night. When they finally park and head to the boardwalk, Chris, optimistically, grabs Thea’s hand and they start their walk with the breeze from the open pushing them along. 

Chris decides while looking at her windblown hair, that he is going to help her no matter what. She deserves so much happiness in this life, Chris made a silent promise to her that all of her hardest days were behind her.  

Giving her hand an extra squeeze, Chris looks out into the distance and makes the same promise to the night sky that was watching over her.

@chi00072 @capstopavenger​

[kar3npage]

Like Real People Do

The Foxes might not be fully supportive of their relationship for a long time, but it slowly becomes obvious that these two sharp boys are incredibly soft for each other. 5 times that Andrew and Neil are soft for each other, and the one time that all of the Foxes see it.

Another 5+1 because I love writing them, and more fluff because I just want Neil and Andrew to be happy. Some of it may be ooc, but who cares? I'm just here to have a good time.

Read on AO3 here

1. The change room is as loud and exuberant as it always is before practice. Kevin was announcing something to the group, though none of them were listening to him, and Matt and Nicky were having a friendly argument over which Hollywood Chris was the best looking. Jack was doing his absolute best to suck up to Kevin, who barely noticed the first year hovering around him. Aaron wasn’t sure what brought his attention to his brother in the first place, since he never was a part of the craziness that usually took over the change room when everyone was in it at the same time. Perhaps it was because Neil wasn’t coming up with any smart comments to Kevin’s speech, or messing around with Matt. No matter the reason, Aaron’s attention was drawn to the corner that held Andrew and Neil. Normally Andrew would be changed already, watching his groups back while they messed around. Today he hadn’t even started changed and Neil was standing beside him with a wrinkle in his brow. Aaron hadn’t noticed a difference in the car, but he wasn’t really paying attention. Plus, he still struggled being able to tell the difference between his brothers different emotions. A part of him hated that Neil was able to read Andrew so easily when he had never gained the skill, and he doubted that he ever will. He caught Neil's eye and raised an eyebrow, tipping his head toward Andrew. Neil shook his head gently. A bad day, then. Aaron moved slightly closer to the corner, until he could hear Neils quiet voice. “You don’t have to be here today if you don’t want to. You know that, right? I’ll keep an eye on Aaron and Kevin.” Aaron held in a scoff. If he needed someone to keep an eye on him, it would be because he was going to murder Neil for his smart mouth, not because he would be in danger. Despite that, Andrew seems to relax a bit at the promise. “What do you need from me?” Neil says gently. He’s half changed already, since he still changes his shirt out in the bathroom. Aaron isn’t sure why, everyone knows he has the scars by now. “Do you want to call Betsy?” Aaron looks up abruptly, waiting for Andrew to pull a knife or something for the assumption that he needed help. He doesn’t though, just slumps toward Neil a bit and shakes his head no. “Okay. Alone time? We can all find a ride back with Matt and Allison.” Neil doesn’t sound pitying or sympathetic, just matter of fact. Aaron is still trying to figure out how Neil knows what to do. He never would have noticed how Andrews eyes seems miles away if no one had mentioned it. Andrew still doesn’t respond, but that doesn’t faze Neil. “Maybe you can set up and organize the bookshelves we got.” To Aarons surprise, Andrew relaxes a bit more and nods. Neil smiles a bit at that. “I’ll keep my phone with me, call me if you need anything. Or Betsy. Or Renee.” Andrew gives Neil a look and he laughs a bit. “Yes, I charged it. I’ll answer if you call.”

There’s a moment where the two have a silent conversation before Andrew grabs closes his locker and walks out of the changeroom.

“Andrew!” Kevin says, sending Neil a frantic look. “You can’t just leave practice!” Andrew leaves, the door clanging behind him. Neil gives Kevin a sharp grin. “Yes he can.” No one is surprised when Jack speaks up. “Just because you’re vice captain doesn’t mean that you get to decide things like that.” If Aaron could get away with strangling the kid, he would have done it ages ago. By the look on Jostens face, he feels the same way. “Yes it does. And if you had the statistics that he does, and had pro teams looking into you already like he does, maybe you would get out of practice every once in a while,” Neil snaps. He will never, ever admit this to anyone, but Aaron thinks that maybe, maybe Josten is actually good for Andrew. He only makes fun of him a few times through practice to thank him.

2. The girls room always feels cozy and calm compared to the rest of the dorms. Renee always decorates it at the beginning of every year and Dan makes sure that everything stays tidy. Maybe that’s why Neil is comfortable enough to go sit in there every once in a while for a haircut and a chat with the girls. Allison will never not be proud of the fact that they’ve been able to get the jumpy striker to trust them enough that she can put scissors near his face without him having a panic attack. Neil is doing better dealing with Jack and the other new recruits than they thought that he would, but he’s still struggling with the constant comments that he’s had to deal with over the past month. Dan and Renee are doing their best to give him advice on how to deal with it himself without Wymack or Dan having to intervene while Allison cuts his hair. Allison breaks in every once in a while to tell him to resort to violence, which makes Renee give her a look of disappointment and makes Neil grin. Allison is nearly done when Neil checks his phone. He reads whatever message was waiting for him, then gives it the smallest, softest smile that Allison has ever seen. It makes her want to hug him. Instead, she just says, “is that Matt? Tell him we’re going for lunch after this.” Neil shakes his head. “No, it’s from Andrew. Look, he sent me a cat video.” He tilts his phone up so the girls can all see the video of a sweet cat being adopted off of the street and taken care of. It starts off as a skinny little mangy thing and ends the video with clear eyes and a soft looking coat of fur. Allison can not imagine blank faced Andrew watching this video in a million years. “That’s sweet Neil. Do you want a pet?” Renee says, smiling. She looks almost smug. “Andrew and I have been talking about getting a cat after grad. It’ll be tough at first, since he’ll be playing pro while I’m still in school and Betsy said that a pet would probably be good for both of us.” There’s a stunned silence in the room. Dan catches Allison’s eye and grins. “Andrew wants a cat?” Dan asks. “We both do, I think.” Neil smiles at the screen again before noticing the quiet that’s enveloped the room. “Why? Do you think that’s a bad idea?” “No! That’s a brilliant idea,” Allison jumps in. “I think we are all just surprised is all. We didn’t picture you or Andrew as pet people,” Renee says gently. Neil looks nervous and fidgets with his phone while he thinks through his answer. “Well, we both thought that it was a good idea for me. To have something that needs looking after, so I don’t have the option of running. And a cat would be good for Andrew because they don’t need as much touch as dogs do. But that isn’t for a while anyway.” Allison tilts Neil’s head up so he looks at her. She understands why all of the upperclassmen have practically adopted Neil, she would kill for the kid if she needed to. Dan looks like she’s going to cry. “That’s a great idea. You better let us name it,” she tells him firmly. Neil laughs while Allison hugs him. “Okay, but you have to tell Andrew that.”

When Neil goes back to his room to grab his coat before they go out for lunch, the three girls smile at each other. Allison hadn’t been fully on board with Neil and Andrews relationship, but hearing Neil talk about the future with hope made her think that maybe Andrew was softer than she realized. They started a bet on when they would get a second cat right there and then.

3. The dorm that Kevin shared with Andrew and Neil was often quiet, so he wasn’t surprised when no noise came from the room when he came home after dinner with Wymack and Abby. He realized why it was so quiet as he walked into the hallway. Neil was sitting on the bathroom counter while Andrew stood between his legs, applying some sort of medicated cream to the scars on his face. Both had a look of absolute concentration on their faces, and neither had noticed that Kevin was back. He was about to leave when Neil spoke. He knew that this was a private moment and he wasn’t invited to be a part of it, but something in Neils voice made him pause. They had spent a lot of time together in the past few years, and Kevin felt almost protective about him. It was the sibling relationship that he had never known before: one that had affection on both sides, one where their arguments never got physical, one where irritating each other was just as fun for the other person. Neil made Kevin want to pull out his hair sometimes, but if anyone else ever said anything bad about him he would make them swallow an Exy racket. “Andrew?” Neil says in a voice that Kevin’s never heard from him before. He sounds like he’s shattering slowly. Andrew pauses what he’s doing and waits for Neil to talk. He’s patient and just watches the redhead while he struggles to come up with the right words. “Do my scars ever… bother you?” Neil starts slowly. “Doesn’t it ever bother you how people stare at us all the time?” Andrew doesn’t answer right away and Kevin has the urge to walk over and yell at Neil to stop being stupid. “This is about the articles.” Andrew finally monotones. That makes more sense. The Foxes had been asked to be a part of a marketing campaign for a new active wear brand. The campaign was hugely popular and successful, but that also means that quite a few naysayers had come out of the woodwork to discuss whether or not Neil’s scars should have been photoshopped out. A few of the articles had been written like they were being supportive (‘Despite the Scars, Starting Striker Neil Josten is still a Looker!’) while others were just plain brutal (‘Should Josten really be the new Face of Exy? We Think Not’). Since Neil rarely payed attention to what others were saying about him, Kevin had assumed that he hadn’t even read most of the articles. “Jack sent a few to me today.” Andrews whole frame tenses for a moment before he turns his attention back to Neil. He puts his hands up to cradle Neils face slowly, then taps the scar on his cheek gently. “I like your scars. They’re yours.” Neil slumps down and closes his eyes, leaning into the touch. Very slowly, Andrew stretches up to kiss the knife scars on his other cheek, then grabs a hand to kiss the burn scars on his knuckles. Kevin decides to spend the night with Aaron and Nicky.

4. The sunset is stunning from the rooftop. The reds and oranges start off vibrant, then fade to a soft pink that bleeds up into the sky. It’s one of those sunsets that takes your breathe away, that makes you think that maybe life is worth all the pain for moments like this. Despite the beauty that’s sitting right in front of her, Renee isn’t paying attention to it. Her and Andrew were supposed to be sparring half an hour ago and when he didn’t show up, she came looking for him. Andrew had been irritable all week and Neil had been spending far more time at the court than he should have been. They were both wearing themselves out, and Renee was hoping that maybe she could help. The roof had been her first and only spot to check. Sure enough, Andrew was sitting with his legs over the side of the building, smoke in hand. Neil was sitting beside him, tension obvious in his frame. “I don’t want to force you into anything, Andrew. If you don’t want this, just tell me,” Neil was saying. He sounded more exhausted than angry. Andrew makes a sound that could only be described as a growl. Neil forges on, ignoring the glare he was getting. “You can’t be with someone just because you feel some sort of...  of obligation to be with them.” “You think I feel obligated.” “Don’t you?” They stare at each other, Andrews cigarette completely forgotten. “No, I don’t. You aren’t forcing me into anything. You really think I would let you do that?” “You forced yourself to do lots of things you didn’t want to in order to take care of someone.” Andrew gives Neil a blank look. “I don’t do that anymore. You know that.” “I don’t want you to start again for me.” There’s no life to Neil’s voice. The sky is slowly getting darker, but neither of the boys notice. “I chose you. I keep choosing you. That’s my choice, no one is forcing me into anything.” “Why?” Andrew throws the cigarette down and glares at Neil. “Because I’m happy. You idiot.” Neil smiles and Renee can feel one of her own building. The fact that Andrew admitted to having any sort of feeling is a huge step, and she wishes that he would let her tell him that she was proud of him. “Okay.” Neil says. “Okay.” “I’m happy too.” “Okay.” Andrew lights another cigarette and offers it to Neil, who is still beaming up at him. Renee leaves them to it and leaves a message on Andrews phone to reschedule their session.

5. Matt never would have noticed anything different about the crowd for this game if Kevin hadn’t completely frozen when he entered the arena. One thing about Kevin is that he never tried to hide his feelings. Matt knew that it made Neil mad sometimes, but he secretly thought that the other starting striker could have learnt a thing or two from Kevin. Maybe not with the coping mechanisms, but the fact that he admitted that he needed help was a good thing. It didn’t take long for the team to find out that the one and only Ichirou Moriyama was sitting in the crowd at today’s game. No one knew why, since it wasn’t an important one against an important team. Neil refused to react, but he was particularly aggressive right from the start. They created an impressive point gap at the beginning of the game that only grew from there. Even Andrew put in effort when he was on. It was an easy win. Well, physically it was an easy win. Mentally, it obviously wasn’t. Kevin looked like he wanted to vomit through the entire game, and Wymack took him to Abby as soon as they finished their handshakes. No one could tell that it was affecting Neil until they got to the change room. The mood was unusually somber as they got undressed, despite the win. Even Jack kept his mouth shut and changed out quickly. The room was almost empty, with only Matt, Nicky, Andrew, and Neil left before he started to lose his composure. It started with shaking hands while he was trying to tie his shoes. Matt could see him trembling from where he was standing near Nicky. Andrew was there in an instant, watching Neil carefully. For a while all he can hear is the sound of Neil’s panicked breathing. Andrew kneels in front of him and pulls him down to sit on the bench. Matt can still see the frantic look in his eyes. “I can’t do that again,” Neil chokes out, breath still quick and painful sounding. “You won’t,” Andrew says. “I was resigned to it, to dying, but I can’t do that again. I want to live Andrew,” Neil sound desperate. Matt moves forward without even realizing. He can feel his heart break a little hearing about how Neil had been resigned about dying in his first year here. “You’re not going to go through that again. Listen, Neil-listen to me. I’ve got you.” Matt can feel Nicky at his back, both of them watching the scene like they’re watching a car accident that can’t be avoided. Nicky reaches out and grabs his arm for support. Andrew tugs Neil forward so his head rests on Andrews shoulder. Matt can see his shoulder shuddering but he can’t hear the sharp breaths anymore. “Come on, Nicky,” Matt murmurs under his breath and starts to lead Nicky toward the door. He knows that Neil doesn’t want anyone to witness him falling apart, and Andrew knows how to take care of him. Right before they leave the room he hears Andrew say, “Nothing is going to happen to you. I love you.” It’s so quiet that he almost thinks that he imagined it, but when he turns to look at Nicky and sees the other backliners shocked expression, he knows that Nicky heard it too. Matt allows himself a small smile. Neil will be alright.

+1 The airport is always crazy at this time of the year, and Wymack is seriously considering just telling the Trojans that they won’t be able to make it to the game. He’s exhausted already from trying to keep an eye on all of his Foxes and they only just got there. He’s standing in line for coffee with Neil and Kevin, who are currently arguing about something that Wymack isn’t really paying attention to. When he looks at Neil he can tell that he’s arguing just to get a rise out of Kevin. His eyes are sparkling while Kevin shouts at him. Seeing the two boys so out of their shells makes him happy, even though they are helping give him a headache. Wymack barely notices the chaos behind him at first, not until Neil goes stiff and ignores whatever Kevin had just been ranting about. It’s impossible to tell what’s happening, just that airport security has swarmed the area and people are panicking. They seem mostly safe in the little coffee shop where they’re waiting in line, but the rest of the Foxes could be anywhere. They could be caught up in whatever’s going on over there. “Bomb threats,” someone whispers near him, and just like that people start throwing out ideas as to what could be going wrong. Each whispered theory makes Neil go paler. Kevin gives Wymack a frantic look and moves a step closer to him. Neil looks like he’s going to bolt into the crazed crowd. Wymack gently grips his arm to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, and pulls out his phone with his other hand. “Hello?” Wymack can barely hear Dan over the noise behind her. “Dan, are you with the others?” “Uh, I’ve got Matt, Aaron, Nicky, and the new kids here with me.” “Where are Andrew and Renee?” Neil somehow goes even paler than he had been before. He grabs Wymacks wrist and watches him intently. “They went into one of the little shops near our gate, I think. I’m not sure whats going on, did you see all of the security?” “Yeah. Let me know if you find them. And stick together.” “Okay, we’ll meet you at the gate. Kevin and Neil are okay?” “Yep.” Beside him, Neil is clutching his phone to his ear. According to his tight expression, no one is picking up. It’s almost half an hour later and 20 unanswered phone calls to both Renee and Andrew before the insanity slows down and things start getting into control. Wymack grabs Kevin and Neil and pulls them through the crowd to their gate. He spots Andrew first and can tell the moment that Neil sees him, since he pulls out of his grip and runs over to the gate. Andrew and Neil are staring at each other, probably checking for injuries, by the time that Wymack and Kevin have arrived. The rest of the team is surrounding them, all shouting over each other. Allison has started a betting pool about what caused the chaos. Neil and Andrew are the calm in the middle of the storm. “I was worried about you,” Andrew says with more emotion than Wymack is used to hearing from him. “I was worried about you. You’re not allowed to mock me for not answering my phone anymore.” Neil says. Colour is slowly coming back into his cheeks. “We got stuck in the crowd. I’m sorry Neil,” Renee says from where she’s standing by Allison. Neil doesn’t even glance at her. “Are you okay?” he asks Andrew. Andrew nods. “Can I hug you?” Neil asks. Wymack can just barely hear him over the din of the team, and he doubts that anyone else can hear the two of them. Andrew nods. Neil shifts forward slowly, giving Andrew time to refuse. When Andrew’s hands go around his back to clutch at his hoodie Neil sighs and tucks his head into the joint between Andrews neck and shoulder. One of Andrews hands comes up to the back of Neils neck while the other grabs onto the back of his hoodie. Wymack doesn’t miss the money that changes hands when the others see the two boys, but he doesn’t let anyone interrupt them. After all his team has been through, he thinks that they deserve some happiness.