#wow what a fuckin modern sentence

[the-big-milk]

when you change an ex's contact name from a nickname to their first name

[lahyene]

The Enemy.

Pairing: tony stark x villain!reader

Summary: Despite being on opposite sides of justice, you and Tony still manage to have a rather intimate relationship...

Themes: smut, swearing, sex, mentions of murder and gun violence

Word count: 997

You open the door to your modern style apartment only to be welcomed by Iron Man himself, though instead of wearing his high-tech suit, he’s in a dark hoodie with shades covering his brown eyes.

“Well, hello there, Tony.” You greet with a little smirk, gesturing for him to come inside. “What brings you here? Not trying to bring me to jail again, I hope.”

You have a rather high profile when it comes to the mafia world, and to say you had never committed a crime before would be a lie. Tony knows this. The Avengers know this. And yet they’ve had no way of catching you in action.

“’Fraid not, you cover your tracks too well, hellcat. For now, anyways. I’ll get ya one day.” He walks in, peeling out of the hoodie revealing a black wifebeater underneath. Your eyes drift over the outline of the electromagnet embedded in his chest, closing the door behind him. “However,” he continues, sitting right down on the couch and making himself comfortable, “I do have some questions for you about a certain accident tonight.”

“Oh? Well then, shoot.” You come over and sit down in the plush leather armchair, crossing your legs and looking at him expectantly.

“Well that’s exactly what happened.” Tony remarks with a lifted brow, eyeing you intensely. “A shooting. A murder, to be precise, of a certain someone who owes your boss a lot of money.”

“My boss?” you question innocently, tilting your head. “But that doesn’t make any sense, I’m unemployed.”

Tony rolls his eyes, but knows better than to push further. This was a weak attempt for information anyways, and both of you know it. Both of you also know why he’s really here. You and Tony have been fucking in secret ever since you first met, and no matter how many times you break the law, you know you’ll have him coming back to you again and again. 

“Did you do it?” he asks regardless, and you scoff.

“Even if I were involved in such barbaric events, I wouldn’t do the dirty work myself, Tony. Killing someone? How inhuman.” Truly, you did not kill this unfortunate soul he’s speaking of, but you do know who did. “Besides, since when are you a cop? Don’t you usually handle the, I don’t know, intergalactic, alien trouble, or whatever?”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to see people in my city get hurt.” He says simply, but you can only smirk in response. Getting up, you stride over to him, standing right in front of him and leaning over.

“Alright, we get it,” you murmur, tilting your head. “Big, brave Tony Stark, defending his turf and being the hero New York City needs. Brava, brava.” You reach out and slowly take hold of his chin, making him grit his teeth slightly. “Now can we cut to the real reason you’re here, O Great Warrior?”

He looks into your eyes with his signature “over it” expression, muttering lowly, “You know, it’s really annoying that you always manage to be more sarcastic than me.”

With that, he grabs you by the back of your neck and pulls you in for a rough kiss, using his other hand to hold your waist and pull you down onto his lap. You gasp in delight, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing back fiercely, already rolling your hips down against his. “I can read you like a fuckin’ book,” you mumble between kisses, fingers tugging at his brown hair, and he growls huskily.

“Books are too wordy. And I want less words coming from your mouth and more moans.” 

He stands up and scoops you up with him, pressing you up against the glass of your living room window, the streets of New York bustling below. “Wow.” You tease breathlessly as he starts to remove his pants, “Kinky. You want all of New York seeing me get fucked like the naughty little slut I am, hm?”

“Oh, you got that right.” He scoffs, quite literally tearing your shorts and panties off with both hands, keeping your body supported against the glass. 

“Tony! You owe me for tha-”

You can’t even finish your sentence, because he’s already thrusting up into you, a moan cutting off your words as you grip his shoulder blades and tilt your head back. “Oh...! Fuck!” you cry out as you roll your hips down, bouncing on him in the air as you hitch your legs higher up his waist. “Tony, that’s so fucking good!” 

He groans deeply as he continues fucking you up against the window, hands cupping and squeezing your ass roughly while he leans in to suck on your bouncing breasts. “Mm... mmn... you’re so goddamn tight...” he growls rather muffled, bucking his hips upward and moving his hands to your waist so he can push you down even further. “You know, if this is the only way to keep you out of trouble, I could come by everyday...”

You laugh breathlessly, biting your lip hard as you feel him deeper and deeper inside you, nails digging into his back. “I have... no idea what trouble you’re talking about, Tony... mm!” You gasp as he hitches one of your legs up even higher, his rough movements making your entire body rock against him. “Fuck!”

The two of you finally find your release, both of you breathless and panting as Tony finally sets you back down on shaky legs. You lean against the cool glass, your chest heaving up and down as you look up at him with a small smirk, nibbling on your lower lip. He starts to open his mouth, but you cut him off.

“Spare me the “this is the last time” bullshit, we both know it isn’t true.”

He blinks but only smirks in response, still breathing heavily.

“Actually, I was going to ask if you were up for a shower. Think we could both use a little cleaning up.”

[modernwizard]

Reasons I love Dhawan Master #13: He exploits a modern social justice activist perspective!

In no particular order, here is an illustrated list of reasons I love Sacha Dhawan’s Master, most of which boil down to the way that Sacha Dhawan so expertly embodies the Master to such a degree that we can look into this character’s mind as we never have before.

H/t  to @ventingbouto​ and the Little Things That the Master Does That I Just Love series, which inspired this.

#13: He exploits a modern social justice activist perspective! Look at his comment when he first sees Ashad on his hologram phone: “Hello, Cybercarrier. Ooo, you look rough. Or is that a choice? Don't mean to conversion-shame you.” This is fuckin’ hilarious to me because it indicates that he knows the current social justice activist tenet about accepting others’ chosen identities as long as they don’t hurt you. His neologism of “conversion shaming” recalls “slut shaming,” “fat shaming,” and other activist uses of the word to identify particular ways in which mainstream culture makes people feel like shit about certain aspects of their identity. 

I think this cracks me up because it represents him paying close attention to a certain subculture enough to know the slang, which is right in keeping with his reflective, analytical, detail-oriented personality. It also cracks me up because he’s using the lingo of a group that he so extremely obviously does not belong to. You can see him telling the Doctor not to “villain shame” him or criticize his “alternative moral lifestyle choices,” right?

Also another moment suggestive of a modern social justice activist perspective is in Spyfall 2 where the Doctor remarks that she’s not thrilled with what he’s wearing...or the Nazis he’s hanging around with. That combination of contempt and weary acknowledgment characterizes today’s antifascist sentiment in my view: “FUCK THE NAZIS, and God we wish they weren’t here, but here they are.” Yeah, okay, I think that’s a stretch, but hey, this is my list.

Please note that I am not at all saying that the Master is a modern social justice activist. I am observing that he USES the language and perspective of one, in that he knows the lingo and the signals, and he’s deploying them with tongue in cheek. I think it’s a variation on his very broad acting, i.e., a performance that depends on the juxtaposition of the lingo of equality and respect with his actual authoritarian personality.

Wow, all that from four sentences? Yup, all that from four sentences! Stick around...because I analyze [twirls, snaps] everything!

[meme-loving-stuck]

this is a psa not just for neurotypical people but for... Everyone. lmao

SOME PEOPLE USE "BIG PRETENTIOUS WORDS" FOR A REASON. AND NEWSFLASH ASSHOLE, it's NOT ALWAYS: because they are obviously pretentious douchebags who want to sound better than everyone else

Observe: I just used the word observe instead of, "let me show you what I mean" Why? Because it's one fucking word instead of a whole-ass phrase. Is "observe" a more casual word than that turn of phrase? No. And it's probably something you'll hear a cartoon villain say often. But. it's one word!!! Versus fucking seven!!! To say the same goddamn thing!

If you WANT to spend four fucking sentences trying to explain a phenomena or just a simple fucking noun, be my guest. But if my brain can find the EASIEST way to say something that's what I'm gonna say! It's EASIER to use more succinct language and yet people always act like it's the end of the fucking world if you use a word with more than two syllables.

And like, I get it not everyone's first language is english. (I also know that means they know MORE languages than i do-- even more of a reason that there's no need to get defensive about it!) And I get how it "seems pretentious" but some people's brains are just fucking wired that way dude. I for instance have to make a conscious effort to turn it off and "like just fuckin talk like a normal person ya know, jesus christ" I can do it! Sure! But that's work. Its effort. Its not my brain's natural default. Hell it took a lot of effort to not make this sound like a fucking abstract for an APA paper. It always does

Some people have fixations on learning bigger words. Some people DO like sounding like a fucking alien or their idea of a victorian era royal. Some people don't. NOT EVERYONE DOES. I don't. It just happened to me because I have an aptitude for it or whatever. If you don't know what something means, don't lash out and be childish about it and make fun of people like "ooh wow big word i must be too stupid for you huh???" I know how tempting it is to weaponize your insecurities, but like. Dont.

Just fucking ask me what the word means!! Or. O R. Jesus fucking christ here's a WACKY MODERN IDEA: google is still free.

leave people alone abt how they talk.

[p4nkow]

Can I please get 20 from fluff along with 21 from angst? 💛

ok wow first of all thank you so much for requesting! i really, really enjoyed writing it. let me know what you think xx

20. “I’ll always protect you.”

21. “Don’t give me space. That’s the last thing I want with you.”

Warnings: a little tiny mention of sexual assault

okay i know the pic has little to do with the whole story but i immediately linked it to this so here we go

You were having a terrible night. In the early evening you and Joe’ve had a huge fight. You had waited for him for hours at the restaurant and he never showed up, even though you had reminded him at least ten times of your reservation.

“Maybe you don’t care about me enough to remember that we actually had a date!” You shouted, throwing your arms in the air.

Joe looked at you like you were out of your mind and that’s exactly what he asked you shortly after. “Are you out of your mind? I just forgot about it! I was out with the boys and—”

“Right, it’s always about the boys. I’ve waited for hours, Joe!”

“It entirely slipped my mind! Y/N, you’re exaggerating.”

“I am, huh?”

“Hell, yeah. It was just a fuckin’ date, for Christ’s sake. We’ve had plenty of those! Fuck, sometimes you’re just too— too overwhelming.” You were hurt by his words and you took a step back. Joe seemed to regret his words right after he pronounced them but the damage was already done.

“Y/N, baby—“ He took a step towards trying to hold your hands but you took another one back.

You shook your head in disbelief as you turned your back to him, walking towards your bedroom. You quickly grabbed your purse and your keys and you were about to leave when he grabbed you by your wrist. “Hey, hey, hey, where are you going?”

“I don’t wanna be with someone who forgets about me.”

“Baby, you know it’s not like that.”

“It’s what it seems to me.”

You shook your arm and you set your hand free from his grip, walking away from the flat.

And since that moment you spent most of the day at Lucy’s, eating a whole bowl of ice cream while you complained about your love life.

“You won’t spend the night like that, Y/N. C’mon, it’s my last day in the Big Apple, we gotta celebrate.”

You raised your gaze to Lucy, meeting her green eyes. “Is Joe going to be there?”

She eye-rolled at your question. “You know he’ll be there. Everyone will. C’mon, you can just— I dunno, avoid him for all night? Pub’s big enough to do that.”

You considered her offer and then you sighed, putting away the ice cream. “‘kay, fine. You’re lucky I love you, Luce.”

And that’s how you ended in that ultra modern pub, waiting for your drink at the counter while chatting with Lucy. Joe was standing across the room with a drink in his hand as he chatted with Ben. Gwil and Rami were sitting on the couch right next to them, also lost in a conversation.

You could feel his gaze on you but you desperately tried not to look back at him. You were still mad but you missed him a lot. “He’s looking at you” Lucy whispered, leaning her head close to yours. You groaned at her words, taking a sip of your drink as you looked at him with the corner of your eye.

“This is so frustrating.”

“Wait, I really gotta pee. We’ll keep complaining as soon as I come back.” And by saying so she just left you there. You sighed and you leaned against the counter, your elbows resting on it.

Only two minutes had passed when you heard a voice. “May I offer you a drink, beautiful?”

You turned and smiled at the stranger, trying to sound as polite as possible by saying “No, thank you. I already have one.”

But the man didn’t seem to let go. ”Some snacks, then?” He asked by taking Lucy’s seat. You shook your head as to say no and you quickly looked away. Your hands started to sweat when you felt the man’s hand resting on your knee.

“Please, stop. I don’t wanna and I have a boyfriend.”

The man grinned at you, his hand sliding towards your thigh. You took a deep breath and you were about to freak out. You tried to move your leg away but his grip was so strong that you just couldn’t move. “I’ve been looking at you the whole night and I haven’t seen that boyfriend of yours.” You were disgusted.

“Please, stop” You said once again as you started to panic. He was about to lean closer to you when he was roughly pushed back.

“She said to stop, you asshole.” Joe has pushed the man away from you and the latter almost fell off the barstool. You raised your gaze to look at him but he was turning his back to you.

The man stood up and adjusted his jacket. “Didn’t you see that? She was basically begging for me to touch her.”

Joe wasn’t the kind of guy who got mad for anything but at the moment he was fuming. He took a step closer to the man before raising an arm and punching that asshole right in the nose. “Son of a bitch!” He shouted, bringing both of his hands on his bleeding nose.

“Joe” You murmured but he didn’t even look at you.

“‘kay, mate. That’s enough” Ben said, stepping in. He draw the man away and Joe took a few deep breaths before turning towards you.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice still shaking of anger.

Your look fell at your feet, you just couldn’t look at him at the moment. He cupped your cheeks and made you look at him in the eyes. You bit your lip as you tried to retain your tears, whispering “Thank you.”

���I’ll always protect you” He replied and that’s when you couldn’t take it anymore. A few tears started to run down your face and he gently wiped them away. Then he hugged you, leaning you against his chest and hold you close.

“I’m so sorry” He whispered against your ear, stroking your hair to calm you down. “I’m so sorry, for everything.”

You took a deep breath before speaking again, afraid that your voice’d break in the middle of the sentence. “Why didn’t you come to talk to me?”

“I thought you needed some space.” His hazel eyes were full of sadness as he checked on your face.

“Don’t give me space. That’s the last thing I want with you.” He frantically nodded at your words while caressing your cheeks.

“I love you so fuckin’ much, Y/N. I’m sorry about the restaurant, about the fight, about this, about everything.”

You leaned against his touch, giving him a sad smile while whispering “Can we just go home?”

“Ye-yes, of course.” He replied and you smiled at him gratefully. You stood up from the stool and you reached for your coat when Lucy came back, glancing at Joe first and then at you. She gave you a confused look after noticing Ben’s worried gaze from the backdoor, asking in a low voice “What the hell did I miss?”

Prompt requests are open!

[xfangheartx]

Red Strings- Chapter 1

Chapter 1- The Night Before

Kagome sighed as she finally sat down on the couch. It was almost 11 o'clock in the morning and she was just so exhausted from not doing just her morning chores, but also caring for her new house guest. The apartment Kagome lived in was fairly small. Nothing too fancy, just your regular one-bedroom and one-bathroom apartment with a kitchen on the southwest. As Kagome flicked on the TV, she couldn't help but think back on how exactly she got into this situation. Flashback

It was just another one of those nights in Tokyo. People were still out late, enjoying the nightlife and hanging with friends and whatnot. Some were just now on their way back home after such a late night. Kagome herself was just now getting off from work. It was about 35 minutes after midnight and since she was doing some last minute cleaning at the cafe, she was left to lock up the place once she was done. Once she had set up the chairs and cleaned off the counters, she put on her coat to keep out the chilly night air, grabbed her purse, closed the door behind her, and locked it with the key that her boss gave her before she turned and headed for her car...but as she was about to get in, she noticed something attached to her pinky finger: a long red string.

"Where'd that come from?" she asked as she looked at it, then followed its length...and, WOW, was it long. She blinked in confusion for a few minutes before curiosity took hold and before she knew it, she was walking after this peculiar thread along the sidewalk, accidentally bumping into a few people as she did and pardoning herself for doing so. That's when she reached an alleyway and found that the string led to a pair of double doors. She looked up at the neon sign: "Ren's Joint". Kagome sighed. She had heard of this place. It tended to be a hang out for patrons both human and demon alike. Yes, as it impossible as it seems, demons actually thrived in this modern-day community. Of course, they were rare, mostly because they tended to disguise themselves to look almost as human as possible. A smart human would usually steer clear of this bar...and yet, that nagging red string seemed to tug at Kagome's hand as if beckoning her. Steeling herself, Kagome pushed open the doors and found that the inside was quite lavish. Velvet carpeting, obsidian black structuring, fancy booths...although the bar was practically empty...except for the one man at the counter. He had on a red coat with brown fake fur around the hood and cuffs, a black shirt with the word "MAD DOG" written in white, as well as a picture of a snarling dog underneath, a pair of loose-fitting denim jeans, and a pair of black leather boots with pointed toes. What stuck out most, though, was his long mane of silvery white hair and the two pricked up dog ears on the top of his head. Obviously, he was of demonic descent. Kagome blinked as the dog-eared man leaned over the countertop, groaning and hiccupping as he downed a glass of whiskey...and when she took a closer look, she saw that the red string was tied to his pinky finger. "What in the world...?" she whispered. The bartender, a bald man wearing a black vest and a white shirt, sighed as he went up and shook the man's shoulder. "Hey!" said the bartender and owner, Renkotsu. "Hey, half-demon! Come on, get up!" "Huuuuuuh...?" the man slurred as he looked up at Renkotsu. "Listen," said Renkotsu. "It's nearly 1 in the morning. I'm tired and I want to go home. I have to close the bar and I can't do that with you here, now scrape yourself up and get out before I call the police!" "Ah, fuck you!" the dog-eared man spat. "My Dad is the chief of police, ya fuckin' bald-headed turd!" He then let out a loud belch in his face. "That's it," Renkotsu muttered. "BAN!!" "What?" asked another young man with tanned skin and his hair braided in a long ponytail, wearing a black suit and a white shirt underneath. "Bankotsu, get him outta here!" Renkotsu ordered as he pointed to the half-demon. "He's been here since 10 o'clock, drinking the place dry and he will not leave!!" Bankotsu sighed as he grabbed the man by the back of his coat and dragged him toward the doors, causing Kagome to gasp as she quickly made her exit. Not long after, Bankotsu opened the door and unceremoniously shoved the drunken half-demon outside, causing him to stumble forward before he collapsed on the asphalt. "And stay out!!" yelled Bankotsu as he shut the door. Kagome gaped in astonishment before she looked to the dog-eared man. At first, she thought about just walking away and leaving him there...but of course, her good conscience just had to bug her. Wasn't it agreed a long time ago that humans and demons should live together, peacefully, and not discriminate against each other? It was bad enough some humans got this kind of treatment. With a sigh, Kagome squat down to the point where she was practically leaning on her toes and began to shake the man awake. "Hey," she called. "Hey! Get up!" "Uuuunnh..." the male groaned as he forced himself to sit up, letting out a small hiccup as he did. "Hey," Kagome said. "Are you okay?" The half-demon hiccupped again as he turned to face her...and then his golden eyes went wide. "K...Kikyo?" he asked. "Who?" Kagome asked while this dopey grin appeared on the half-demon's face. "Oh, my god, it is you~!" he exclaimed as he hugged Kagome, who let out a shriek of surprise. "Ohhhh, I missed you soooo much!" "H-hey, stop it!" Kagome cried as she tried to push him off. "Let go of me! My name's not Kikyo! It's Kagome, okay?!" "Whatever you say, Kikyo..." the man slurred, causing Kagome to groan before she finally managed to slip out of his grasp. "Come on, stand up," she said as she forced him to his feet. "Now listen, do you have any relatives or anything? Can't you call them?" "I don't..." he hiccupped. "I don't...have my phone." "You don't have your phone?!" Kagome questioned. "Well...can you tell me where you live so I can take you there?!" "I live..." the half-demon started, only to burp in mid-sentence. "Mmm...excuse me...I live...s-s-somewhere..." Kagome could only shake her head in exasperation. 'Now what?' she thought. 'I don't think I can take him to a hospital...not many will treat demons...I guess I don't have a choice.' She went up to youth and put his arm over shoulders and then held onto his hip. "Come on," she said. "I'm gonna take you to my car." "Okay, Kikyo," the half-demon hiccupped. "And I'm NOT Kikyo!" Kagome argued. "I'm Kagome! Ka! Go! Me!" "Oh...got it," the man said. "...How come there are two of you, Kikyo?" "...This is gonna be a long night," Kagome muttered. XXX

After a 20-minute drive, Kagome arrived at the apartment complex where she resided while her passenger sat in the back seat. She parked the car in her space, then got out and proceeded to pull the half-demon out of the car, next before she carefully helped him up the stairs. The pair stood in front of apartment B14 and Kagome promptly unlocked the door before she headed inside, taking her new guest with her. "Okay," she said. "You think you can call your emergency contact or something?" "Uhhh...umm...oh...uh-oh..." the half-demon muttered before he collapsed on the floor. "Oh, for the love of..." Kagome muttered as she turned him over, then began to search his coat pockets, and that's when she found his wallet. "Aha! There's gotta be something in here that could help!" She searched through the wallet's pockets, ignoring the credit cards and yen notes inside before she spotted something of interest: his driver's license. "Hmm..." she hummed as she took it out to get a closer look at it. "Inuyasha Taisho...age 21." She looked down at the half-demon. "Inuyasha, huh?" "Uggh..." Inuyasha groaned as he tried to stand up. "Hmm...what else is in here?" Kagome asked as she searched through the wallet again, this time finding a flashcard that said "Emergency Contact: Mom and Dad", as well as a phone number underneath. Perfect. "Hey, can you call your parents?" asked Kagome as she turned to face him...only to see him gag as he covered his mouth in a futile effort to keep himself from vomiting. It had the desired effect...for only 3 seconds before his stomach heaved and he released its contents all over his shirt, pants, and on the kitchen floor. Kagome sighed before she picked up the phone from its place on the wall and dialed a number, then held it to her ear as she heard it ringing...but after about 8 rings, the answering machine picked up. Kagome sighed before she politely left a message, giving her name and phone number as well as the details of Inuyasha's whereabouts. After that, she hung up, then helped the half-demon to her bedroom. After that, she pulled off his vomit-stained clothes while being very careful not to get any in his hair (as well as trying to ignore his...endowment once she got to his pants and underwear). Since the laundry room was closed, she could at least soak them for a little while until she could wash them in the morning. As Kagome prepared to take the clothes to the bathroom, she heard a slight whimper, causing her to glance back at him...and see Inuyasha's face contort into one of pain. "...I'm sorry, Kikyo..." he whispered as tears formed in his eyes. "I'm so sorry...!" Kagome's eyes softened. At first, she was irritated with him due to his drunkenness, but seeing him like this now...looking so vulnerable and sad...she felt her heart go out to him. Kagome sighed as she went up and pulled the thick blanket up to his shoulders, then gently rubbed his ears, causing him to sigh as he finally went to sleep. "Poor guy," she whispered as she carried his clothes out of the room. Flashback end Kagome was broken from her train of thought when she heard the door to her bedroom open, revealing a fully-dressed Inuyasha, who groaned as he shielded his eyes from the lights of the room and the sun, then blinked as he let them adjust. "Hey," Kagome greeted. "Good morning, sleepyhead." "Uh...hey," Inuyasha said back. "What...what time is it?" "11:05," Kagome replied. "Are you okay? Do you feel better?" "Uh...I think so," Inuyasha said. "My head's not pounding anymore...and I think my stomach's done rebelling against me." "You think you can choke down something?" Kagome asked. "Umm...I think I'd just like coffee, instead," said Inuyasha. "Sure," Kagome nodded as she got up and headed to the kitchen. "Umm...probably a dumb question," Inuyasha started, "but...how did I end up here?" "Let's just say you had one too many, last night," Kagome answered. "...Oh, jeez..." Inuyasha muttered in embarrassment, his cheeks flushing and his ears pinned. "I...I didn't do anything too...out of the way, did I? Because if I did, I'm really sorry." "No, no, you're good!" Kagome replied as she put the coffee grounds in the filter. "Although I couldn't get you to call anyone. I tried calling your parents, but no one answered, so I had to leave a message." "Damn," Inuyasha cursed as he sat down on the couch. After Kagome poured the coffee into a mug, she asked him how much cream and sugar he wanted. He only wanted one teaspoon of sugar and not that much cream. He didn't like his coffee too sweet. Inuyasha blew on his coffee a bit before he began to sip on it, causing him to sigh pleasantly. "So...your name's Inuyasha, right?" Kagome asked. "How'd you know?" Inuyasha asked. "I...looked at your driver's license," said Kagome. "I was trying to find something that I could use to help you. I didn't bother anything else, though, I swear." Inuyasha stared skeptically at the woman. She didn't look like she could tell a lie, so he just shrugged and went back to nursing his coffee. "Thanks for the coffee...umm...uh..." he trailed off as he tried to think. "...What's your name?" "Kagome," Kagome answered. "Kagome Higurashi." "...Kagome," Inuyasha repeated. "Thanks, Kagome." "Sure," Kagome replied as the half-demon kept drinking his coffee. "...So...can I ask you a question?" "Hmm?" Inuyasha hummed as he glanced at her. "Who's Kikyo?" Kagome asked, causing Inuyasha to gag and nearly spit up his coffee before he forcibly swallowed it, again. "W...where did you hear that from?" he asked. "You...kinda mistook me for her," Kagome replied. "You kept calling me 'Kikyo', over and over." "...Oh," Inuyasha muttered, his ears drooping even more. "Oh, boy...umm...listen...don't worry about that, all right? She's just...someone I knew once, but that was a long time ago." "You sure about that?" Kagome asked. "Because she sounded pretty important to you." "I said don't worry about it," Inuyasha said with a bit of a snarl. "I'm just curious-" Kagome started. "Drop it, okay?!" Inuyasha questioned, causing her to gasp as she backed away, causing his eyes to go wide before he sighed. "...I'm sorry," he said. "I...it's okay," Kagome said. "I guess I shouldn't have pried." Inuyasha blinked at her before he continued nursing his mug. '...I guess I could see why I mistook her for Kikyo...she practically looks like her...although she looks a little younger.' Just then, the phone rang, prompting Kagome to get up and answer it. "Hello? ...Yes, this is she." Inuyasha looked over his shoulder, his ears swiveling as he tried to listen in on the conversation. "Yeah, he's right here. I'll put him on for you." Kagome walked back toward him and handed him the phone. "Your mom," she mouthed, causing Inuyasha to sigh as he took the phone in his hand and held it to his ear. "Hello? ...Hi, Mom. Yeah, I'm okay, I...I just had too much to drink last night...no, I'm not in any trouble. Where's Dad? ...Well, of course, he's at work. Where else would he be?" Kagome blinked as she sat on the couch. "Yeah, you can send someone to come and get me. Tell Shippo not to worry about me, I'll be home soon...tell Taro, too. Okay, I'll see you soon, Mom...yeah, I love you, too. Bye." He pressed a button on the phone, hanging it up before he put it down on the table. "Well, I guess I'm going home, then," said Inuyasha. "Your mom sounded pretty sweet," Kagome smiled. "Sounds like my Mom." "Yeah, my Mom's the best," Inuyasha said with a fond smile. "The fact she hasn't lost her patience with me is a miracle in itself." Kagome chuckled a little, which caused Inuyasha to give a bit of a snicker of his own...but as he looked at her, his eyes softened a bit before he sighed, quietly. "Something wrong?" Kagome asked in concern. "...Nah," Inuyasha replied. "Just...thinking." XXX

It was about an hour later when Kagome heard a knock at the door. "Hang on!" she called as she opened the door, revealing a tall man with long, silvery white locks. It seemed more combed out and straightened than Inuyasha's. He had this stoic look in his eyes and his face had these magenta stripes on his cheeks, and Kagome could also make out a crescent moon mark on his forehead, plus a pair of pointed elf-like ears on the sides of his head. He wore a light blue suit with white pinstripes and underneath that was a black shirt and a yellow tie. "Uh...can I help you?" asked Kagome. "I'm here for my brother," the man said. "...Inuyasha!" Kagome called. "Someone's here for you!" Inuyasha approached, only to stop in his tracks and glare at the man. "Oh, no," he bemoaned. "Don't tell me Mom sent you." "I was the only one available," the man replied. "Believe me, I'm not happy to see you, either." "Uh...Inuyasha, who's this?" Kagome asked. "My older brother," Inuyasha replied. "Well, half-brother, but still." "Are you quite done?" Sesshomaru asked. "I left the engine running in the car and I do not like to be held up." "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," said Inuyasha before he turned to face Kagome. "Thanks again, Kagome." "You're welcome," Kagome replied as the half-demon followed his older half-brother off the premises. Soon, the two brothers stopped in front of Sesshomaru's sports car. "Get in the back," Sesshomaru told him. "I already have company." Inuyasha grumbled as he opened the passenger door, revealing a young woman that was about Kagome's age, wearing an orange dress and a purple coat over herself. Her dark brown hair was down to her back and part of it was tied up in a sideways pigtail. "Hi, Inuyasha!" she greeted with the brightest grin that anyone could ever see. "How are you?" "Oh, hi, Rin," said Inuyasha as he put his seatbelt on. "I'm doing okay." Sesshomaru sighed as he got in the driver's seat and began to drive away from the complex. "So, who was that girl, Inuyasha?" he asked. "None of your business," Inuyasha said. "She was just someone who helped me out." "If you say so," Sesshomaru replied as he kept his eyes on the road. "You made a new friend?" Rin asked. "Oh, that's wonderful." "She's not a friend," Inuyasha replied. "Look...it doesn't matter, okay? It was just a coincidence that I happened to meet her...odds are I'll never see her again." As he said this, he glanced down at his right hand...and he noticed the same red string, tied around his pinky.

[stony-ao3-feed]

cherry lollipops

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2VuE5mI

by rmaowl

Wanda makes Tony an honorary Maximoff, which she thinks he appreciates: the sentence “don’t call me Stark, it reminds me of my dad” has been uttered on more than one occasion.

Words: 889, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 4 of so cast off the shackles of yesterday

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Multi

Characters: Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, mentioned wade, Mentioned Vision, mentioned loki!! im lov

Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff/Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, very chaotic relationship tags wow, read it however you want idk

Additional Tags: this was weird to write. these prompts were difficult. yikes, Teasing, Blushing, Reaction, Questioning, LGBTQ Themes, Cufflinks, cufflinks always make me think of wilson fisk how disgusting, Online Shopping, Texting, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has Issues, Awesome Wanda Maximoff, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Awesome Natasha Romanov, Music, Song Lyrics, Inspired by an Ariana Grande Song, Based On a Troye Sivan Song, Troye Sivan References, Dancing, Dancing and Singing, Singing, hairbrush microphone !!, Lollipops, Flirting, Making Up, Out of Character, whoops, honorary maximoff tony ???, genderfluid loki! pansexual wade! agender vision!, Bedrooms, Messy, steve is sad but it’s his own! fuckin!! fault!!!, i deleted tags on accident and i don’t know what they were oh no, Character Development, Weird Plot Shit, Weird Fluff, This is so strange, Help, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Powers, whatever, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2VuE5mI

[thesundowncrew]

the odd numbered :3 ?

Where Am I From? Malaysia Edition

1. favourite place in your country?

If we’re talking about states, because Malaysia alone has 14 of them (not cities, don’t get confused), I’ll have to go with my hometown which is the capital city and a state by itself, Kuala Lumpur (KL). It’s THE big city where everybody goes or wants to go. My house is in the suburbs on the outskirts of the city, but everything’s just really accessible where I live. Easiest and cheapest way to the city is by train, which I love doing. Lots of places to eat, lots of sights to see. Lived here all my life and I still haven’t scratched the surface of what it’s got to offer but it’s got some really cool places. It isn’t the cleanest or safest place on earth but hey, it’s home.

3. does your country have access to sea?

Yeah, we’re basically a peninsula so the coastal states have beaches and ports to the sea. I’ve not gone to all the states that do though. Sabah (a neighboring country of the East Coastwhich is NOT a state of Malaysia btw) is especially known for their beaches and seafood.

5. favourite song in your native language?

Hahaha my native language is honestly English since I can’t speak anything else, and I don’t listen to Malay or Chinese songs so NEXT

7. three words from your native language that you like the most?

I wouldn’t really call them my favorite but I like ‘em a bit, not just because of what they mean but the funny part is HOW we say it. With much needed exaggeration (and sometimes exasperation). 

First one’s ‘entah’ which can mean several things depending on context. It can mean ‘either’, ‘maybe’ or ‘possibly’ or just the *shrug* emoji expressing ‘I don’t know’. Example:

A: Kau nak makan apa? // What do you want to eat?

B: Entah ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ // Beats me bruh

—-

A: Oi, dia datang ke tak nanti? // Oi, are they coming or not later?

B: Entah dia datang, entah dia tak datang  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ // Maybe they’re coming, maybe they’re not coming, who knows what the future holds bruh

Second one is ‘mampus’ which literally means to ‘die’, get rekt or the ‘then perish’ meme. Example:

A: HEWWO ( o w o)

B: Mampus lah kau! // GO DIE!

—-

A: Kau sudah siap kerja sekolah ke belum? // Have you finished your homework or not?

B: AAH tak siap lagi! Mampus aku nanti! // AAH no, I haven’t finished it yet! I am so dead!

Third one’s not even really a word. Well, it IS a word but it has no real meaning. It’s basically a filler word used as an expression to emphasize the gravity of something, or just to fill in anywhere and everywhere. The ever infamous ‘lah’. You can use it almost anywhere in the sentence - at the beginning, middle and end - and to put even more emphasis, just extend or amplify the sound. Compare these two sentences:

A: Bosan. // I’m bored.

A: Bosan laaaaaaah // I’m so booooooored

—-

A: Mana aku tahu? // How would I know?

A: LAH mana aku tahu?? // How was I supposed to know??

—-

A: Sekejap! // Hang on a minute!

A: Sekejap-lah!! // Hold your DANG horses!!

9. which of your neighbouring countries would you like to visit most/know best?

Gosh I’ve only been to a few so I guess I’d like to visit the others like Philippines and Singapore! I don’t know which one I’d like to know best but I know Indonesia is one of the best places to go island-hopping cus they have so MANY. Also I’ve been to Sabah but not their beaches yet so I wanna go and taste their famous seafood~

11. favourite native writer/poet?

Only one comes to mind and that’s the late P. Ramlee. He could do it all. He acted, directed, sang and wrote his own songs. His films are the only Malay movies I enjoy watching. The comedies mostly, I was never into drama/romance too much. Here’s a whole documentary about him in case you’re interested (it’s an hour long but I cry every time I reach the end).

13. does your country (or family) have any specific superstitions or traditions that might seem strange to outsiders?

If we’re not including religious beliefs into the mix, there are a few that I know of from both my Malay and Chinese sides of the family. Stuff like.. it’s bad to cut your nails at night cus it’ll shorten your lifespan or you’ll get chased by a spirit. Or if a girl sings in the kitchen, it means she’ll get married pretty soon. Or if a person has a stye in their eye, it means they’ve seen perverted things.

Yeah I know, they’re fuckin nuts.

15. a saying, joke, or hermetic meme that only people from your country will get?

When you’re meeting up with friends, there’s always the one guy who’s still ‘on da way’. Also this entire video.

17. are you interested in your country’s history?

Kinda? A little? Maybe just the more modern history but not the ancient history like in the times of kings and queens, and half of it is because of the Malay propaganda most of our history books were re-written and messed up to praise the one major race above the others (wow sound familiar?)

19. do you like your country’s flag and/or emblem? what about the national anthem?

Eh it’s okay. I don’t remember all the words to the national anthem, I just pretended to sing it in school. The only time I’ve ever felt immensely patriotic was during this years elections.

21. if you could send two things from your country into space, what would they be?

I’ve no idea???

23. which alcoholic beverage is the favoured one in your country?

Majority of us are Muslim and we don’t drink alcohol, so I wouldn’t know. If I were to guess, I’d say Tiger beer?

25. would you like to come from another place, be born in another country?

Not really. I both hate and love my country and I can’t imagine myself being born anywhere but here.

27. favourite national celebrity?

Pfft I have none.

29. does your region/city have a beef with another place in your country?

Okay remember how I said Malaysia is made up of 14 states? You best believe at least one state has some major beef with another. I remember back in college, students that came from different states kept to their own respective groups and it’s not a secret that Malays are also pretty racist towards each other, just because we grew up with different backgrounds, accents, dialects etc. Sometimes it goes all the way back to ancient history, like back when the states were still clans and tribes and they’ve just carried their family feuds to this day.

My city though, I don’t think so. The capital city is like the neutral hub where everyone from all over comes to meet and mix around. Or maybe some states might have beef with us, I wouldn’t know.

[analogskullerosis]

Aries, Taurus, Sagittarius, 8th house? (Astrology asks)

Aries: what are you passionate about?

Several things, but I guess I would say I’m most passionate about my education, trying to help my family/friends/loved ones be as happy as they can be, and music (as in listening to it and appreciating music and music history, I haven’t played in an instrument in a looooong time. Haha)

Taurus: name 3 of your favorite books.

1) Different Seasons by Stephen King. It was a book made up of four novellas (Shawshank Redemption, Apt Pupil, The Breathing Method, The Body). It’s a book I try to go back and read every year or two. It was a different work for King at the time because up until that point (1982) he had only written horror stories like Carrie, Salem’s Lot, Cujo, Skeleton Crew, etc. This was really the first time he wrote just straight dramatic stories. There are still horror elements in the novellas, but nothing supernatural. There’s also a nice afterword where he writes about what it’s like to be typecast as a horror writer and how he came to accept that and he talks a bit about how he came to write these different stories. 

Fun Fact: “The Body” became the 1986 film Stand By Me. Very good. Follows the story very well. Actually, every novella except for “The Breathing Method” has been made into a movie. Definitely recommend it! 

2) The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald. When I read it in 11th grade I really liked it, but didn’t appreciate the genius of it until we read it last semester for class. The wordplay, the story, the style of the whole thing is just a joy to read. I think Fitzgerald is able to wonderfully show the decadence and the sin of his age through his iconic and interesting characters. And while I recognize that symbols like the Green Light or the Eyes of Dr. T.J. Eckleburg are played out and only brought up to high school kids that don’t know what symbolism is, or none of the characters are truly likeable, it does a fantastic job at keeping me entertained through the whole thing. And that’s what I think a good book is supposed to do. Every time I read that final line (”so we beat on boats against the current borne back ceaselessly into the past”) I just sit back and go, “Shit, dude. If only I could write something like that…” It’s a work of genius and I just really enjoy it. 

My favorite film version will forever be the 1974 one. Every time I have to picture Daisy Buchanan I just see the image of Mia Farrow playing her. 

3) Big Sur by Jack Kerouac. I would like to take a moment and quote a few sentences from a book that my English professor/mentor (you know the one!) wrote regarding this book.

“Big Sur is a modern morality play on the demon rum with a first-person vengeance and the ‘Nadir Ray’ turned up to ‘11’. It was Kerouac’s last roar.“

“No swan song this, but more like the prolonged bellow from an alcoholic deathbed.“

I was first exposed to Kerouac in March of this year. I read On the Road for the first time and I enjoyed it. There were scenes I enjoyed and it was interesting to see how Kerouac took the real and made it into fiction (for better or worse)… Then I read Big Sur and I couldn’t put it down. You ever watch footage of a trainwreck? You want to look away but you simply can’t. Kerouac’s goal as a writer was to be as authentically him on the page as possible, and I think Big Sur is where he pulls that off best. He’s a complete fuckin’ mess through this entire thing! But it’s so fascinating to read. You feel so bad for this guy who’s suffering so hard and it’s sad to see how much his “Beat vision” got twisted by people. Here you get a front row seat to the famous writer spiraling down the track and just getting sloshed and wasted and burned out. It’s a shame, but it makes for an interesting read. If I had to sum up the book in one word, it would be this: CHAOS. If On the Road wasn’t your cup of tea, this might suit you better. 

Fun Fact: There was a whole album that was made based off this book in 2009 by Ben Gibbard (from Death Cab for Cutie) and Jay Farrar (from Son Volt). Titled, One Fast Move or I’m Gone: Kerouac’s Big Sur. A lot of the lyrics are just words pulled straight from the book. It’s worth a listen if you’re interested. A number of the tracks were featured in the documentary that was made on Big Sur (Same name as the album.)

Sagittarius: if you could travel to any place in the world, where would it be?

Egypt to see the Great Pyramids of Giza. I just think they’re neat and I’ve always wanted to see them. It’s also where one of my favorite Grateful Dead shows was performed in September of 1978, so I’d like to see it for that too, hahaha. 

I would also like to see Barcelona, Spain to see La Sagrada Familia. It was the giant (unfinished) cathedral of famed Catalan architect Antonio Gaudi. Often considered to be his masterpiece. Google a picture of it, it’s gorgeous. I look at that thing and just think, “Wow. A human being actually designed that and people actually built (most of) it.” 

8th house: Do you believe in reincarnation?

Sure. I mean, I don’t know what happens when we die so anything is certainly possible. I believe we all ascend to Heaven/Hell when we’re gone but if we don’t, then I imagine we are reincarnated into something else. (I apologize if that answer didn’t make much sense.)

This ended up being longer than I thought it would. I hope all of these answers were sufficient! Thank you for asking Anisa! :) 

[anotherererifanshippingcorner]

Actor AU - ereri week day #5

I’ll keep being late, but I really want to write OS with all the prompt for the ereri week. This is the Actor AU from yesterday -though, it’s already 3 in the morning here (so two days ago i’m an horrible person), and I’ll be out in less the four our for a two-days family trip with no pc, so I’ll try to work on the rest on paper. Now, I really need to sleep. (sorry, I don’t know where pining!Levi came from...)

Rating: General Audience

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin

Pairing: Eren Jaeger/Levi Ackerman

Word count: 1913

Additional tags: Alternative Universe - Modern Setting, Actor AU, Pining!Levi, Actor!Levi, Help director!Eren

Summary: One Shot for ereri summer week 2017, Actor AU

He wasn’t pining. He knew what the word meant – to miss or long for, as his generous friend and manager Erd liked to remember him. He had anything he had always longed for -a house that fit a man’s basic needs, a family, even if not blood related, a healthy condition and the job career of his childhood’s dreams-, so Levi rarely lost his patience when the guy started reprimanding him about not giving himself the chance to be happy. What did that mean, anyway? He was happy. He really didn’t need anything and wasn’t interested in nothing more than what he already owned. It wasn’t out of arrogance, an accuse that needed to be addressed since just being a well-know, successful actor seemed to qualify him as the perfectly stereotyped windbag. Levi was genuinely okay with himself. He had his good points and bad parts, as anyone, nothing more. The door opened, cutting short his mental soliloquy. “Good morning, Mr. Ackerman!” There. The help-director who has been assigned to him. Closing after him, Eren Jaeger walked toward Levi with his long, tight-black-jeans-hugged legs, combat boots, and a mouth-watering fitting olive green button down. His hands were full of take away cups and a bag from Levi’s favorite bakery shop. God, that deserved more than a simple “thank you”. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Levi, you deaf brat?” Okay. Something went wrong during the brain-to-mouth part of the communication. “But sir-“ “No. Every day the exact same thing before we even get things started. Are you trying to offend me?” How was he so much more talented in screwing up all his not-work-related conversation than movie script? He may have accidentally terrified the kid -his big, clear, magnetic eyes were wide with concern and confusion. “NO! I would never dream of-“ “Then call me by my name as I asked you. We have been working together for months, no need for all this formality.” The look in his eyes gentled a little, his features softening with relief and a sweeter hint of affection. “It’s just hard to get unused to formalities, s- Levi.” “Mmh.” He wasn’t smiling, not really. “We’ll just have to get you used to it.” He didn’t mention the fact that they had more or less one last week of filming left, and Eren didn’t, either. He handed out one of the cups and then hesitated, fiddling with the paper bag. “Here is your tea. I, uhm, I was walking past the place you told me about on the way here, the one with fresh bagels and those awesome donuts we ate when your brought them here? I thought they’d make the day start better, since the filming process is getting pretty intense, plus you seemed a lot stressed last week, so… yeah.” Eren gave him the bag and Levi didn’t know if he should gaze in wonder at that or the boy sitting in front of him on the couch. He chose to check on the item in his hands, breathing in. Levi smelled the chocolate-praline coated bagel before seeing or touching it. “Careful, Eren, you’re spoiling me. I may ask you to abandon the movie making road and become my slave.” And that wasn’t meant to sound as sexual harassment. “W-well, I wouldn’t mind this little deviation to become a routine for the days to come, if you’re up for it. Bagel really seems to lighten your mood!” You lighten my mood. He put a hand on his mouth to not let that kind of bullshit escape him. They already talked about boot-licking behavior and how much Levi hated that shit. They barely knew each other when Levi reprimanded him about it, and even then Eren seemed sincere when he admitted how much he admired Levi and his movies and how he wanted to work hard to make sure he wasn’t going to be a burden for any of them. Levi still saw the same determination, though Eren was much more mellow and friendlier than in those first days. He liked that attitude. Soon, they found a rhythm -practicing lines on mornings in Levi’s dressing room until it was time to film. The perfect routine, one he fought to maintain when the director wanted to change filming times due to a not so important reason -Pixis thought Levi wasn’t sleeping enough, that he was giving a hard time to his make up and hair styling team, but that was stupid, he just wanted to be there in time every morning to review his lines with the boy. He started eating, looking over at Eren as he pulled out of his bag the script from today’s scenes and summed up them for Levi. His voice demanded to be listened to, rich and enthusiastic while articulating every word and sentence, and Levi couldn’t do anything but what he was supposed to do. Chocolate hair were brushed off by a strong looking hand, so delicate between between those locks, and Levi followed it until it disappeared, focusing instead on Eren’s eyes. Worse. He sighed and told Eren to hand him the script so he could refresh the lines in his head before they started to work seriously.

***

“You’re being ridiculous.” “I’ve already heard that.” “Because you are! This is your ultimate chance! My God, Levi, you’ve been-“ “-pining on the help-director for moths! Why the two of you always talk about the same thing?! Don’t you get bored?” Erd turned around on the barstool and regarded Hanji, one out of two script’s co-writer, with a disapproving look. “You’re not helping, you know that?” “I can’t not-help something that isn’t even there, now, can I?” Levi shot her a dark look, sipping his drink with a frown. “Don’t you have lines to create instead of spitting bullshit here?” “We finished filming, honey!” “Don’t call me that.” “Aww, come on! Everyone knows, okay? Just go with the flow and see what happens! You two should talk and keep it slow, or meet up and fuck all day. But this sexual tension you’re emitting has to stop. It’s becoming hard staying around you. Literally” “Good.” She whined in annoyance. “Hanji is right. Stop pining after him and do something, dude!” He was not pining, for god sake- “Levi!” He shot around at Eren’s voice and located him walking over from the table where the crew was celebrating for the occasion. His smile was as big as theirs, only ten times brighter and cuter and his eyes where fucking shining under the bar’s faint lights. He wanted to run his hands on his cheeks and jaw and chin and caress those lips that kept forming his name and kiss him and see if they tasted as good as they were inviting- Fuck. He was definitely drunk -ish. “Why are the three of you here alone?! Well, you are three, so you’re not alone, but- you should come over!” Eren was cute when he drank too much. “You drank too much.” Right. No filter. Hanji held her laugh back, looking anywhere but at them, and Erd silently slipped away from the boot, siding her. “What are you talking about?! We are partying!” He threw his arms up, almost losing his balance in the action, and Levi shot forward, steadying the boy. “Stop, brat, you want to sprawl all over the floor or what?” “I want to get sprawled under you…” Eren threw his arms around his neck, this time, and Hanji couldn’t contain herself anymore -she burst out laughing, making meny heads turn around to regard them curiously. “Oh, wow. Okay, that’s our clue to leave!” Erd excused them with those word and dragged Hanji after him, while the woman kept crying out and shout thing like: “good luck with that, man!” He sighed, trying to keep Eren on his feet with his hands on the boy’s hips and ignoring what he said. “Stop saying shit. Come on, I’ll call you a taxi.” “Nooo. The party is not over, I came here to call you, not a taxi!” Levi was tired and drank and grumpy and he wanted to go home, but Eren stayed there, dead-weighing on Levi’s shoulders and muttering unintelligible shit in his ear. He sighed again, his heart was not jumping in his chest. “I’ll ride with you, okay? Let’s go, this is not a place for you in this state.” “But the others-“ “You look like you’re going to drop any moment.” “That’s not true! Stop treating me like a kid!” Eren struggled against him when Levi started to shove him out of the bar, not looking over at the table for even a second. “As you’re right now, you should be in bed.” “You could keep me company.” Levi moaned in displeasure. “You’re such a pain in the ass.” He leaned down and with a swift movement, he grabbed Eren’s leg for support, made pressure on his belly with his shoulder and lifted him up with a grunt, adjusting his weigh and keeping him still with his arm before walking over the door. “Put me down!” “As if.” “I can walk!” “It didn’t look like you wanted to.” “I’m going to spank you right now!” “Be my guest.” They left the bar, one more willing than the other, and Levi called for the taxi and moved closer to the edge of the sidewalk, were a bench was. He threw Eren there, minding he didn’t land too hard, and then sat down next to him. Eren almost instantly attached himself to Levi octopus style, making the actor wonder where he found so much agility when he seemed such a sluggish drunk. “Eren.” “Mmmmh.” “Move.” “I hno wanto.” Levi barely understood him. “I don’t care want you want, move.” He wasn’t agitated. He was perfectly calm. Eren didn’t move. “Eren.” “Mmmh.” “Eren-“ “You’r s’ comfy.” Levi freezed. Eren tightened his hold, nuzzling his face against the juncture of his shoulder and neck, making him shiver. Jesus fuckin- “I like your neck, it’s soft.” He spoke more clearly, taking a deep breath, then another. He was sniffing Levi. His heartrate was okay. It was all fucking good. Levi suddenly felt teeth against his neck and he barely held back a real moan, shocked at how quickly he had relaxed on that bench next to Eren. “Eren, we are drunk. Stop.” “Bt you wan me.” “What?” “I know. People talk. And I saw… when you thought I wasn’t lookin…” Levi swallowed, his throat so dry it hurt a little. And he was sweating, fucking gross! Eren’s words were sluggish, but understandably occasionally. He didn’t move his head and kept hugging him, as if he was afraid of letting him go. Levi just wanted to run. Or stay right where he was. “Why re you always s’ jumpy? I barely know what to do with myself when you… you re so… uh.” Levi’s arm found home on Eren’s bended shoulders, and the tension he felt in the boy’s voice seemed to leave his body, at least. “Not now, brat. We can- we can talk in the morning. Alright?” “You’ll be there?” “Uhm-“ “Stay on the couch. Or in my bed. Whatever.” “You seem awfully awake, right now.” “Not my fault.” Levi nuzzled him back a little, and the two of them waited the taxi. Erd was right -he was pining. But little did they know -Eren was pining too.

[shriekthemighty]

Blackened White

For the sake of not blowing up my friends’ phones while I read this, I’m just gonna make a post of my reactions to Brian’s book as I read it. Obviously, spoiler warnings if you intend to read this book.

Night Stand: Fucking wow. The razorblade line. The bluntness of his admission to stealing opiates from people’s bathrooms. This piece is raw and relatable as fuck, even if the specifics aren’t things that I’ve done.

Cloud 9: Already I’m feeling a connection to this one. Messy, toxic, occasionally violent relationships that you can’t quite find the reason to leave? Yeah. And well... that sure was a fucking ending. This book might be a hard read. I don’t know why I expected it wouldn’t be. Fuck.

Where I am Going, You Can’t Take Me: This is very tonally different from the first two. More removed from Brian himself, it seems. Or at least it seems like it’s an attempt to be more removed. The language is more formal and more romanticized that the frank tone of the first two, not to mention that it’s signed “Henry.” Though this could be a cultural reference that I’m missing. (A quick google of Henry and Victoria gave me nothing.) But the substance abuse, the relationship struggle, the staying even when you know you probably shouldn’t is still there. To the point where this makes me wonder if it isn’t a different take on the same relationship of Cloud 9. I can relate to having vastly different opinions on your relationship depending on... all sorts of shit. Feeling like you’re star-crossed lovers one time and a slo-mo nuclear detonation at another.

We’re Fine: Before I even have read a word, this title sets off alarm bells. Here we go.   “...broken, shelved, or served upon.” JUST FUCKING FUCK ME UP BRIAN. IT’S OKAY. I’M FINE. WE’RE FINE. This one snuck up on me. The title had me on guard, but it was okay for the first like, two thirds. The last third was the hit me in the soul agony I was expecting. I’m gonna end up coming at Brian on twitter with angry, sobbing gratitude for this book; I already know it. Also I’m still wondering if this is the same relationship as mentioned in Cloud 9, or if Brian is just that fucking unlucky.

Into the Wind: “She wasn’t my wife and she never will be. She’s a warm body in a cold bed” This one didn’t hit as close to home for me personally, but it still hit. I’m seriously impressed by how Brian can have such impact in so very few words. You don’t have to relate to feel what he’s feeling, and he can convey that feeling very concisely. I’m literally 10 pages in (not counting the acknowledgements and introduction) and I’m already prepared to buy everything he ever writes from now until forever.

Jessica: This one was the pithy and self-depreciating humor I have come to know Brian for via Talks, with the slightly more raw edge his anonymity at the time would afford him. And the last line really drove it home. Hashtag relatable. Cringe Benefits: This one is the first one that doesn’t quite land for me. I get it, but it didn’t particularly do much for me. A very short 8 line poem about moving on and having the past come calling. Not bad by any means, just not as impactful as the others have been so far.

Lawton Outlaw Moved to Texas: The frankness in this one verged on brutal, but not in a bad way. I gave it three full reads before I felt like I could accurately comment on how it made me feel. A lot of it felt like it was a bit alien to my personal experiences, but “ Popping pills and washing them down with a Heineken I found under the backseat/ Wiping the tears from my eyes/ And wishing my best friend wasn’t dead” is such a fucking mood even if I haven’t lived that specific experience, other than having my best fucking friend die young.

Blink: Title reference! A throwback to Into the Wind? Or just a phrasing he likes and forgot he already used. I don’t even care, it works. Overall this one leaves me with the feeling that I’m missing something. Like the meaning has gone just a bit over my head. What’s fascinating is that I googled ‘thief in the night’ to see if the origin of that phrase might clue me in to the meaning of the last few lines, and it wasn’t until I saw that it came from the new testament (I think. This was not a deep google dive.) that I noticed, when I went back and reread those lines, that ‘he’ was capitalized, which gives that last bit so much more meaning and definitely clarifies the whole thing a bit. Not my jam, but not bad.

The Christmas Party: Man, the bitterness is palpable in this one. I’ve fucking been there. And fuck me, the ending was perfect. The kind of story that works so well it shouldn’t feel real, yet you don’t doubt for a second. I’ve been there too. When you’re just ready and honestly a little bit glad to hate everything around you, and then something beautiful knocks you on your ass. Life is like that sometimes.

Chain Coffee: This one I feel meh about. 11 pieces in and I’m only now having a less than positive reaction? That’s impressive. But this feels a little too ‘back in the good old days’ for me to be completely comfortable with. I think I get what he was trying to say, but it just rubbed me wrong a teensy bit. Maybe it’s my over-defensive nature combined with the current millennial-shaming, anti technology atmosphere making me dislike any criticism of the weight of words in the modern age. Or maybe Brian was just being a semi old-ish dude not liking change. Who knows.

Drawn: Well fuck. Literally a single sentence, and a short one at that, being the only thing on the page. The vast empty space following must have been intentional. It works. It works really well.

Robert Downey Jr.: Hah! I love it. This is me every time I’ve ever told anyone about a wacky dream I had. A combination of insanity and deep truths, somehow.

The Mourning After: I already love this for the title alone. Like, fucking fuck. I feel that.

Welp. That was not what I expected it to be. A ‘classic’ Brian joke that reads more like a self dig. Definitely would have been funny and possibly meaningful if I wasn’t expecting something about more literal mourning. It’s very possible there is a deeper meaning I’m failing to grasp because of my own trauma making the word mourning have a very specific meaning to me.

Carnival: Damn. The setup for this was just... so well done. I’m really, really impressed with Brian’s writing ability. He says so much with so few words. The last line of this one really got me. The Cahuenga Past: “[...]where the creative and the cremated find a common ground: neither of us are going anywhere soon.” Well the end of this one felt a bit too It Gets Better™ for my taste, even though I’m sure that wasn’t even a little bit what he was intending (and the It Gets Better Project was probably not even a thing when he wrote this). I’m just a fuckin’ product of my age, and that is what I got. That being said, the bit about wanting to give up but somehow not doing that really made this piece for me. There may be a bit of projection happening, but I felt it in a good way so who cares.

Fear is a Poison: This one had a song lyrics vibe. I can definitely see it being a song rather than a straight poem.

The Hotel Figueroa: Not really sure about this one. A little meh.

Johnny: “You never cross  my mind until I’ve had moreto drink than I’ve had to eat.”

An interesting  one for sure. Brian seems to have had a LOT of relationship problems.

Peace Be With You: Feelings about religion, woo!

In the Beginning: I loved the sentiment of something being perfect only in the sense that it was with someone you loved. I feel that.

Shipwrecked: I definitely relate to this one. Trying to save someone and it resulting in you needing saved yourself, that person doing the same for you, and repeat.

Stay: This one felt simple and sweet. Good times for once. I especially liked the bit with the typewriter.

Spring: Another very relatable, but not as painful, piece. The idea of holding back and trying to appear as though you have nothing to give so you don’t have to be taken from.

Plague: This one was a bit cliche at the end, but not bad. It felt like there should be more.

The Strong Man: Definitely relatable. Putting everything off until the time is right, but that time never coming. Not believing in your own worth but claiming it to everyone who will listen.

Vitamins: Wow, that last line. The self loathing turning into an attempt at hope.

Glenoaks: A funny and bizarre little intrusive thoughts parade.

Racists: A fuckin’ men.

Rent Control: Fucking fuck. This one I feel so hard. The constant dismissal of addictive behaviors because of youth. Shit.

The Fountain of Youth: I’m not a religious person but I could still feel the depth of this one. Floundering and searching for something and being unsure you would deserve it, unsure you could survive it, if you found it. The repetition of the first stanza at the end of the poem really brought it home.

Burn or Bury: Wow. More religious implications in this one, but it’s just a background note to something that feels like it could have a huge impact with just a little more context, but still impacts pretty hard. I think this is about killing a past self, but who knows. I’m literally just going on first instinct here. Don’t think less of Brian’s writing because I didn’t take the time to really let some of this stuff percolate. His writing deserves it. There are so many layers going on in so much of what he writes.

A Good Knight’s Sleep: This one reads like song lyrics, and again I think just a little more context would make all the difference, but I still really enjoyed it. I can’t tell if this is about a breakup, a lost love due to suicide, or due to death from another cause, but it still works.

The Wine: Ngl, the complete break from the rhyme scheme in the last stanza kinda took me out of this one. Maybe I’m a dumbass and this is a particular form of poetry that I’m not familiar with. Maybe Brian just let the words take over in the end. Idk. But I definitely get the feel of this one.

A Psalm for Those: This one is definitely interesting. It treads that line where I can’t tell if it’s a relationship metaphor or a religion metaphor. Either way, I enjoyed it. Brian can really bring things home with clever repetition sometimes.

Flares: Mmm, I feel ya. Corporate drudgery and the desire for something more. Ugh.

If the Medicine Fails: Brian is a true romantic. Jesus fucking fuck. This is the most pure and painfully loving thing I have ever read. Dear god. And what a note to end the book on.

[ethelbertpaul444-blog]

Sean Penn Wrote The Worst Novel In Human History, I Read It

Sean Penn recently released Bob Honey Who Just Do Stuff . i> It is, ostensibly, a tale. Sarah Silverman compared Penn to Mark Twain and E.E. Cummings . A Kirkus reviewer likened him to Kurt Vonnegut and David Foster Wallace. Salman Rushdie testified it a notebook that Thomas Pynchon and Hunter S. Thompson would adore, possibly because he longs for the good old days when people wanted him dead. It’s telling that all these figures of likenes are incapable of contradicting because they’re either famously reclusive or dead. Having recently read Bob Honey , i> I am confident in affirming it the literary equivalent of renal failure. Amazon div > To help you prepare yourselves, here are just a few of Penn’s countless wrongdoings against the English usage( he truly likes alliteration ): Evading the viscount fad of Viagratic assaults on virtual vaginas . i> Criminal dab and according personality crusts, bound together by dough . i> This goat-backed lioness began to howl like a bruxism bedevilled banshee . i> 1 The( Barely Existent) Plot Is Complete Nonsense Perhaps the only situation you need to know about Penn’s book is that the summary firstly period, about three elderly people coming murdered in their retirement home, is called “Seeking Homeostasis in Inherent Hypocrisy.” Penn writes like he’s inspected up every single oath in his thesaurus except “dictionary.” He exploits pointless expressions, then renders 70 footnotes to explain the definition of the unnecessary calls, because he assumes that his books aren’t at his stage of intellect. In a direction, he isn’t wrong. Here’s a ordinary sentence, in such a case describing a woman: Effervescence lived in her every cellular expression, and she had spizzerinctum to spare . i> Penn is of the view that if less is more, then more must be incredible. He writes romances like they’re a high school essay he’s hopeles to pad. Read Next Make Sure Your Private Data Stays That Way With A VPN So, about those murdered old-time parties. We’re introduced to Bob Honey, a successful but disaffected middle-aged white man who is brave enough to be suspicious on certain aspects of modern American life. Bob cultivated in waste management, and while selling his assistances in Iraq during the course of its American residence, he became convinced to kill elderly Americans for the government because … well, there’s no actual rationalization, because Penn has taken the artistic approaching of not making his hero any personality or idiosyncrasies. Penn then boldly parodys the Iraq War by pointing out that it was sometimes murderous, and sacred shit you guys, some people may have profited from that acts of violence. It’s an interesting see if these are the first words you’ve spoke since 2003. div > Now, you might be thinking, “OK, that doesn’t sound very profound, but it’s still reasonable to essay the Iraq War, right? ” To which I’d respond that Penn refers to the Pentagon as “the five-sided puzzle palace, ” then specifies a footnote that clarifies he represents “the Pentagon.” From there, we learn that the American administration looks threatened by age-old people who don’t buy fairly branded commodities. The only real plot pitch is that the NSA, a covert section of the EPA, and a assortment of conservative groundworks are working together on these old-fashioned people assassinations because the removal of the flatulence they contribute to the environment permits businesses to pollute more. Way to tackle America’s questions manager on, Sean Penn. After agreeing to help the government kill old-fashioned beings for no good reason, Bob’s drifts of America and the world eventually cause him to reach the marvelous realization that killing people is bad and that, holy shit, America might be bad more . i> So Bob tries and fails to kill a Trump stand-in while extricating his 20 -something girlfriend who has all the character development of a calculator with “BOOBS” written on it. And that’s it. Penn wrote a series of incoherent indignant tweets about America, then pulled them out to novel segment with shit like this TAGEND div > Behind decorative gabion walls, an elderly neighbor sits centurion on his porch watching Bob with unauthorized soupcon. Bob checks this. Detects fucked by his own face . i> 2 Sean Penn Never Learned What Satire Is The idea that the government is killing age-old parties doesn’t have a quality; it’s only there, because it’s something bad parties would do and grr, the government is bad. The whole bible is full-of-the-moon of that kind of vapid pseudo-criticism. Sean Penn is a man who looked at the world and its many issues in all of their breathtaking intricacy and reached judgments like maybe the media … might be influencing what we think about ! Have you considered that marketing might be … trying to manipulate you ? What if legislators … sometimes lie ? And engineering … could it have … downsides ? It’s baby’s first hot take, written at the tender age of 57. Here, for example, is what Penn has to say about millennials TAGEND div > Adderall and advertisers’ chickens had come home to roost. Bob find from feline millennials the disseminations of Instagrams blitzingly blazing from all directions … No one “ve spoken to” anyone, and when they did, it was more about those anthropomorphic arrows than it was the natural air of organically human pas … An age group so lost to letters and steeped in transactional copulation, it seemed of them that they recognise scarcely between an active orgasm and an acted one . i> Wow, sick smolder. Penn careens from “selfies are dumb” to two clauses on gun control to a brief aside on why hunting is good to long stretches during which good-for-nothing happens and no quality is met. It’s as if Penn thought that hurled verse is the fruit of getting one’s penis hurled in a car door. He likens people who buy substance( nothing in particular, exactly substance) to sheep, and then, in case you somehow weren’t going it, certifies: “BAHHH-BAHHH-BILDERBERG.” What do you have to say about sell, Sean? “Branding is being! Labelling is being! The algorithm of modern binary existentialism.” He even talks about ice cream trucks like he can’t get through a single conversation without boasting about his IQ: “The music of an ice cream truck sells sweetness, but its wares are cold and fattening.” But it’s Trump and his voters where Penn is at his least elegant TAGEND div > Between the id and the superego, the sheep had traded a love of their own children for the chance to cry, “Look at me! I’m a pisser on a tree! ” Ouch exits the human mind. Out reaches the orator’s brain-fart, this Jesus of Jonestown, this blind subject to Newtown, spews bile aplenty, to bitch us all down . i> So numerous statements haven’t been used to say so little since Ayn Rand was labor. The greatest insight Penn can muster up is calling Trump “Mein Drumpf” and “Mr. Landlord, ” before swearing “Sir, I request you to struggle. Tweet me, bitch. I dare you.” My cat has stepped on my keyboard and inadvertently referred tweets that are more politically insightful. And it gets worse, because … 3 Sean Penn Thinks It’s Deep To Use Racial Slurs Bob Honey isn’t some splendid subversion of republican Americans. It’s a jog polemical for how Penn watches America, mixed with the incisive equivalent of chewing a child because you think that Swift guy was onto something. So it’s not super huge that the only Mexican references are drug dealer who love tacos and tequila. Or that Penn uses the term “Jew-speak.” Or that the main gang of Iraq War profiteers and senior murderers are cannibalistic Papua New Guineans who wear grass hems and use jolt guns. div > Nothing answers profound commentary of modern America like “What if a knot of stereotypical immigrants are the cause of our problems? And then that’s it, there’s no insightful turn? ” The Guinean leader speaks events like “Caught me a client of kuru! I crackin’ a grizz, my bruva, ” because Sean Penn is systematically working to convince us that proficiency was a mistake. There’s a thin line between satirizing racial issues and only being racist, and Penn took a giant dump on that argument when he wrote the following in the middle of his closing anti-Trump manifesto. I rationalize in advance to like eight different groups of beings for exposing you to this TAGEND “You trying to kill me because I don’t actually believe we’re the ‘best’ country in the world? … You want to kill me, you boogeymen and women, you worshippers of tits, ass, and beefcake, you snivelling, vomitus, kike-, nigger-, towelhead-, and wetback-hating, faggot-fearing colostomy bags of humanity? ” Hey Sean, it’s actually possible to critique Trump and ethnic issues without descent innuendoes like you got a bulk slew on them at Costco. And somehow, that’s not even the worst part. 4 Shockingly, Sean Penn Might Have Some Publishes With Women Penn has a long autobiography of alleged domestic ill-treatment ,~ ATAGEND and while I’m not said today he has issues with women, he seems to be saying that himself. Bob’s ex-wife is described as a “chubby fuckin’ redhead whose supernatural still whorishly specters his bed.” In including references to a pitch-black woman Bob had a crush on, Penn writes: “He thought of her elegance and the enticement of her shaved and shapely cinnamon puts standing at the trailer’s screen door.” Oh, and here’s what he has to say about women with the valour to destroy America by expending makeup: “Had she sold the mythology of her quietnes for cosmetic self-awareness? Going older in America is tough on a woman; discovering what she’ll do to avoid it is tough on a man.” Then there’s Bob’s girlfriend, Annie, whose attributes include being great at making cock from Bob and actually liking Bob. She has no personality , no passions , no rulings. What we do know is that “She may have even been too young. But Bob never riled himself to those used distinctions.” And when Annie writes Bob a tone, she signs it: “My love and vagina( on your squad ). “ div > Other female courages include a bad young baby, a volunteer who gets suck on the number of jobs, a waitress who is described as an “undernourished nymphomaniac, ” and a “lesbo-leaning lunatic” who nearly shits herself. There’s also an “awful chimera” who does shit herself while precipitating overboard and get gobbled by “fifty frenzied sharks( adios, amiga ), ” in one of several instances of Penn exploiting cases of violence against women for the purpose of humor. I study I’ve detected Penn’s fetish, and it’s wives getting hurt and shitting themselves. If you aren’t previously turned off, allow me to perpetually devastate gender for you with Penn at his most erotic TAGEND What a magical vagina, Bob foresaw, after inquiring it for hours . i> “Good vagina. Maybe more Vietnam.” ( Greenback: “Vietnam” is what Penn calls pubic hair .) Tedious trickling of cold cunt soup . i> Now here’s a merriment excerpt from the, ugh , five-and-a-half-page rhyme that culminates the novel TAGEND Where did all the chuckles go ? i> Are you out there, Louis C.K .? i> Once critical conversations Kept us on our toes ; i> Was it actually in our interest div > To stomp Charlie Rose ? i> And what’s with this ‘Me Too’ ? i> This infantizing period of the day … i> Is this a toddler’s crusade ? i> Reducing crime, slut-shaming, and suffrage to reckless child’s comedy ? i> A pulpit for accusation immunity ? i> Due process has lost its sheen ? i> Again, there’s no irony here. Other parts of the poem are serious complaints about issues like mass shootings. Penn just got to the end of a story that he clearly made less time to write than most people devote crafting SpongeBob memes, and expended a half-second deliberation, “Hey, what if it was actually bad that a 76 -year-old millionaire was shot for frequently molesting dames? ” And then he zooms on, like a philosophical collision and feed. He wants to offer half-assed commentary on everything he’s ever glimpsed in the news. And that, I feel, is because … 5 Sean Penn Desperately Wants To Sound Smart The New York Times called Penn’s book “a problem wrapped in an mystery and cloaked in crazy.” I have a simpler explanation: It sucks. “Riddle” implies that there’s something smart to be collected from it. There isn’t. It’s public masturbation. Penn quotes and comments Herodotus, Norman Mailer, Inmar Berman, Jack Kerouac, Phil Ochs, Albert Camus, and more, because like your most ruffling Facebook acquaintances, he thinks that knowing their lists of smart beings stimulates him smart by proxy. div > This garbage has been declared to have “almost immeasurable charm” seemingly alone because it entitles Donald Trump fat. The particularly reality that it was published at all is the eventual lesson of pointing on a arc. Sean Penn is a celebrity, so of course we have to put out his inanity. Penn took the adventurous political stance that ha ha, Trump has a small penis, so of course it’s provocative. Even some of the many people who thumped it was better called it happens like “brave” or a misfired account. It’s not, and it isn’t. That Penn recognizes this record as some kind of daring statement against branding is the high levels of hypocrisy and arrogance. This work is on shelves merely because Sean Penn is a “brand.” I realise the absurdity now, that I’m contributing to the attention that Penn is getting. But this isn’t really a commentary; it’s a notice. Don’t buy this volume because Sarah Silverman called it a “masterpiece.” Don’t buy this notebook out of melancholy curiosity. Taunting documents sent by serial gunmen have contributed more to American culture than this book ever will, and the only beneficial thought we can do is ignore it like it’s an attention-seeking babe. If I still haven’t persuaded you, here’s what Sean Penn has to say after a scene in which a helicopter crushes a woman TAGEND “As for Helen Mayo, they did Sikh and find abides. Get it? Sikh! Get it ??? ” I know you’ll do the right thing. Mark is on Twitter, and has a book with a better rating than Penn’s . Guess we’d be remiss not to relate “youve got to” where you could purchase the book, so here it is if “youve been” demand it . b > i> Support Cracked’s journalism with a tour to our Contribution Page. Please and thank you . b > i> For more comical personality literature, check out I Read Steven Seagal’s Insane Novel So You Don’t Have To and 6 Ugly Things You Hear About Donald Trump Reading His Books . b > i> You certainly should be following us on Facebook . b > i> Read more: http :// www.cracked.com/ blog/ sean-penn-wrote-worst-novel-in-human-history-i-read-it / http://dailybuzznetwork.com/index.php/2018/06/08/sean-penn-wrote-the-worst-novel-in-human-history-i-read-it/

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Sean Penn Wrote The Worst Novel In Human History, I Read It

Sean Penn recently released Bob Honey Who Just Do Stuff. It is, ostensibly, a novel. Sarah Silverman compared Penn to Mark Twain and E.E. Cummings. A Kirkus reviewer equated him to Kurt Vonnegut and David Foster Wallace. Salman Rushdie declared it a book that Thomas Pynchon and Hunter S. Thompson would love, possibly because he longs for the good old days when people wanted him dead. It’s telling that all these figures of comparison are incapable of disagreeing because they’re either famously reclusive or dead. Having recently read Bob Honey, I am confident in declaring it the literary equivalent of renal failure.

Amazon

To help you prepare yourselves, here are just a few of Penn’s many atrocities against the English language (he really likes alliteration):

Evading the viscount vogue of Viagratic assaults on virtual vaginas.

Criminal crumbs and corresponding celebrity crusts, bound together by dough.

This goat-backed lioness began to hoot like a bruxism bedevilled banshee.

1

The (Barely Existent) Plot Is Complete Nonsense

Perhaps the only thing you need to know about Penn’s book is that the brief first chapter, about three elderly people getting murdered in their retirement home, is called “Seeking Homeostasis in Inherent Hypocrisy.” Penn writes like he’s looked up every single word in his thesaurus except “dictionary.” He uses unnecessary terms, then provides 70 footnotes to explain the definition of the unnecessary terms, because he assumes that his readers aren’t at his level of intelligence. In a way, he isn’t wrong.

Here’s a typical sentence, in this case describing a woman: Effervescence lived in her every cellular expression, and she had spizzerinctum to spare. Penn thinks that if less is more, then more must be incredible. He writes novels like they’re a high school essay he’s desperate to pad.

Read Next

Make Sure Your Private Data Stays That Way With A VPN

So, about those murdered old people. We’re introduced to Bob Honey, a successful but disaffected middle-aged white man who is brave enough to be suspicious of some aspects of modern American life. Bob worked in waste management, and while selling his services in Iraq during the American occupation, he became convinced to kill elderly Americans for the government because … well, there’s no actual explanation, because Penn has taken the creative approach of not giving his hero any personality or traits. Penn then boldly satirizes the Iraq War by pointing out that it was sometimes violent, and holy shit you guys, some people may have profited from that violence. It’s an interesting observation if these are the first words you’ve read since 2003.

Now, you might be thinking, “OK, that doesn’t sound very profound, but it’s still reasonable to critique the Iraq War, right?” To which I’d respond that Penn refers to the Pentagon as “the five-sided puzzle palace,” then provides a footnote that clarifies he means “the Pentagon.”

From there, we learn that the American government feels threatened by old people who don’t buy enough branded products. The only real plot point is that the NSA, a covert section of the EPA, and a bunch of conservative foundations are working together on these old people murders because the removal of the flatulence they contribute to the environment allows businesses to pollute more. Way to tackle America’s problems head on, Sean Penn.

After agreeing to help the government kill old people for no good reason, Bob’s wanderings of America and the world eventually cause him to reach the incredible realization that killing people is bad and that, holy shit, America might be bad too. So Bob tries and fails to kill a Trump stand-in while rescuing his 20-something girlfriend who has all the character development of a calculator with “BOOBS” written on it. And that’s it. Penn wrote a series of incoherent angry tweets about America, then stretched them out to novel length with shit like this:

Behind decorative gabion walls, an elderly neighbor sits centurion on his porch watching Bob with surreptitious soupcon. Bob sees this. Feels fucked by his own face.

2

Sean Penn Never Learned What Satire Is

The idea that the government is killing old people doesn’t have a point; it’s just there, because it’s something bad people would do and grr, the government is bad. The whole book is full of that kind of vapid pseudo-criticism. Sean Penn is a man who looked at the world and its many issues in all of their incredible complexity and reached conclusions like maybe the media … might be influencing what we think about! Have you considered that marketing might be … trying to manipulate you? What if politicians … sometimes lie? And technology … could it have … downsides? It’s baby’s first hot take, written at the tender age of 57. Here, for example, is what Penn has to say about millennials:

Adderall and advertisers’ chickens had come home to roost. Bob felt from feline millennials the transmissions of Instagrams blitzingly blazing from all directions … No one spoke to anyone, and when they did, it was more about those anthropomorphic arrows than it was the natural air of organically human traverse … An age group so lost to letters and steeped in transactional sex, it seemed of them that they distinguished little between an active orgasm and an acted one.

Wow, sick burn. Penn careens from “selfies are dumb” to two paragraphs on gun control to a brief aside on why hunting is bad to long stretches during which nothing happens and no point is made. It’s as if Penn thought that slam poetry was the result of getting one’s penis slammed in a car door.

He compares people who buy stuff (nothing in particular, just stuff) to sheep, and then, in case you somehow weren’t getting it, declares: “BAHHH-BAHHH-BILDERBERG.” What do you have to say about marketing, Sean? “Branding is being! Branding is being! The algorithm of modern binary existentialism.” He even talks about ice cream trucks like he can’t get through a single conversation without bragging about his IQ: “The music of an ice cream truck sells sweetness, but its wares are cold and fattening.” But it’s Trump and his voters where Penn is at his least elegant:

Between the id and the superego, the sheep had traded a love of their own children for the chance to cry, “Look at me! I’m a pisser on a tree!” Ouch goes the human heart. Out comes the orator’s brain-fart, this Jesus of Jonestown, this blind man to Newtown, spits bile aplenty, to bitch us all down.

So many words haven’t been used to say so little since Ayn Rand was working. The greatest insight Penn can muster up is calling Trump “Mein Drumpf” and “Mr. Landlord,” before declaring “Sir, I challenge you to duel. Tweet me, bitch. I dare you.” My cat has stepped on my keyboard and accidentally sent tweets that are more politically insightful. And it gets worse, because …

3

Sean Penn Thinks It’s Deep To Use Racial Slurs

Bob Honey isn’t some brilliant subversion of conservative Americans. It’s a rambling polemic for how Penn sees America, mixed with the satirical equivalent of eating a child because you think that Swift guy was onto something. So it’s not super great that the only Mexican characters are drug dealers who love tacos and tequila. Or that Penn uses the term “Jew-speak.” Or that the main gang of Iraq War profiteers and senior murderers are cannibalistic Papua New Guineans who wear grass skirts and use blow guns.

Nothing says profound criticism of modern America like “What if a bunch of stereotypical immigrants are the cause of our problems? And then that’s it, there’s no insightful twist?” The Guinean leader says things like “Caught me a case of kuru! I crackin’ a grizz, my bruva,” because Sean Penn is systematically working to convince us that literacy was a mistake.

There’s a thin line between satirizing racial issues and just being racist, and Penn took a giant dump on that line when he wrote the following in the middle of his closing anti-Trump manifesto. I apologize in advance to like eight different groups of people for exposing you to this:

“You want to kill me because I don’t really believe we’re the ‘best’ country in the world? … You want to kill me, you boogeymen and women, you worshippers of tits, ass, and beefcake, you snivelling, vomitus, kike-, nigger-, towelhead-, and wetback-hating, faggot-fearing colostomy bags of humanity?”

Hey Sean, it’s actually possible to critique Trump and racial issues without dropping slurs like you got a bulk deal on them at Costco. And somehow, that’s not even the worst part.

4

Shockingly, Sean Penn Might Have Some Issues With Women

Penn has a long history of alleged domestic abuse, and while I’m not saying that he has issues with women, he seems to be saying that himself. Bob’s ex-wife is described as a “chubby fuckin’ redhead whose ghost still whorishly haunts his bed.” In reference to a black woman Bob had a crush on, Penn writes: “He thought of her beauty and the lure of her shaved and shapely cinnamon sticks standing at the trailer’s screen door.” Oh, and here’s what he has to say about women with the audacity to destroy America by using makeup: “Had she traded the mythology of her modesty for cosmetic self-awareness? Getting older in America is tough on a woman; seeing what she’ll do to avoid it is tough on a man.”

Then there’s Bob’s girlfriend, Annie, whose traits include being great at taking dick from Bob and really liking Bob. She has no personality, no desires, no opinions. What we do know is that “She may have even been too young. But Bob never bothered himself with those distinctions.” And when Annie writes Bob a note, she signs it: “My love and vagina (on your team).”

Other female characters include a bad young mother, a volunteer who gets drunk on the job, a waitress who is described as an “undernourished nymphomaniac,” and a “lesbo-leaning lunatic” who almost shits herself. There’s also an “awful chimera” who does shit herself while falling overboard and getting eaten by “fifty frenzied sharks (adios, amiga),” in one of several instances of Penn using violence against women for comedy. I think I’ve discovered Penn’s fetish, and it’s women getting hurt and shitting themselves. If you aren’t already turned off, allow me to forever ruin sex for you with Penn at his most sensual:

What a magical vagina, Bob thought, after exploring it for hours.

“Good vagina. Maybe more Vietnam.” (Note: “Vietnam” is what Penn calls pubic hair.)

Tedious trickling of cold cunt soup.

Now here’s a fun excerpt from the, ugh, five-and-a-half-page poem that ends the novel:

Where did all the laughs go?

Are you out there, Louis C.K.?

Once crucial conversations

Kept us on our toes;

Was it really in our interest

To trample Charlie Rose?

And what’s with this ‘Me Too’?

This infantizing term of the day …

Is this a toddler’s crusade?

Reducing rape, slut-shaming, and suffrage to reckless child’s play?

A platform for accusation impunity?

Due process has lost its sheen?

Again, there’s no satire here. Other parts of the poem are serious complaints about issues like mass shootings. Penn just got to the end of a novel that he clearly took less time to write than most people spend crafting SpongeBob memes, and spent a half-second thinking, “Hey, what if it was actually bad that a 76-year-old millionaire was fired for repeatedly harassing women?” And then he zooms on, like a philosophical hit and run. He wants to offer half-assed commentary on everything he’s ever glimpsed in the news. And that, I think, is because …

5

Sean Penn Desperately Wants To Sound Smart

The New York Times called Penn’s book “a riddle wrapped in an enigma and cloaked in crazy.” I have a simpler explanation: It sucks. “Riddle” implies that there’s something clever to be gleaned from it. There isn’t. It’s public masturbation. Penn quotes and references Herodotus, Norman Mailer, Inmar Berman, Jack Kerouac, Phil Ochs, Albert Camus, and more, because like your most annoying Facebook friends, he thinks that knowing the names of smart people makes him smart by proxy.

This garbage has been declared to have “almost immeasurable charm” seemingly solely because it calls Donald Trump fat. The very fact that it was published at all is the ultimate example of grading on a curve. Sean Penn is a celebrity, so of course we have to put out his inanity. Penn took the bold political stance that ha ha, Trump has a small penis, so of course it’s provocative. Even some of the many people who slammed it still called it things like “brave” or a misfired statement. It’s not, and it isn’t. That Penn sees this book as some kind of bold statement against branding is the height of hypocrisy and arrogance. This book is on shelves only because Sean Penn is a “brand.”

I realize the irony here, that I’m contributing to the attention that Penn is getting. But this isn’t just a critique; it’s a warning. Don’t buy this book because Sarah Silverman called it a “masterpiece.” Don’t buy this book out of morbid curiosity. Taunting notes sent by serial killers have contributed more to American culture than this book ever will, and the only productive thing we can do is ignore it like it’s an attention-seeking child. If I still haven’t convinced you, here’s what Sean Penn has to say after a scene in which a helicopter crushes a woman:

“As for Helen Mayo, they did Sikh and find remains. Get it? Sikh! Get it???”

I know you’ll do the right thing.

Mark is on Twitter, and has a book with a better rating than Penn’s.

Guess we’d be remiss not to link you to where you could purchase the book, so here it is if you really want it.

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For more bizarre celebrity literature, check out I Read Steven Seagal’s Insane Novel So You Don’t Have To and 6 Ugly Things You Learn About Donald Trump Reading His Books.

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