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anonbeadraws · 5 years ago

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So I caved and with @spacespectres help made an avatarsona! With a big chunky statement to go with it! (Trigger warnings for homophobia/transphobia, conversion therapy, death and parental abuse. Everyone gets just desserts though.)

‘I’m, actually not sure why I’m here. You can’t help me, my son is gone and the police arn't saying it but - I’m sorry, my ears are- It’s like- You know those alarms, the ones that are made to disperse kids at shopping centres, keep them from causing trouble- not that i think they work. you see more of them these days, scruffy and dirty, what their parents doing, i don’t- Anyway, it’s like that noise, that high buzz. it’s meant to be that, as you get older, your brain tunes it out, adults aren’t meant to hear it anymore, just keep on shopping without hoodlums hanging about outside smoking and throwing shit at the elderly. I don’t miss that, Ben’s smoking, i’ll say that. That’s awful to say, i bet you’re thinking, god how terrible, her child’s missing and she’s moaning about a few nicotine stains on the ceiling.

I know theres plenty that would call me a terrible mother anyway, i know the neighbours didn’t agree with my decision, the decision of a single mother, who struggled enough just to keep her child fed and watered and out of trouble, to then struggle to keep him from wearing my lipstick when i was out of the house-! I have no problem with the gays. I want to say that, have that clear. I just know, what he was doing, that wasn’t my Ben, that wasn’t my son and, the Helping House was what he needed. I’m his mum, i know what he needed, don’t care what his dad says. he wasn’t here, he wasn’t here to raise Ben, so he doesn’t-

The pamphlet was so nice, so professional and i checked it out online, all 5 stars, apart from the odd protester sticking his oar in, and it was- reassuring to know he’d be looked after, helped! Get what he needed. And he was fine when i left him there, with his old school backpack with all his bits in, the Helping staff there to welcome him. Reminded me a little of when he started primary school, he looked so small, all big eyes… They promised it’d be a couple of weeks, maybe a month, and then he could come home, all better.

I got to visit every weekend, which was nice! Sometimes brought him biscuits, can't beat home made, chatted a little. He still had that, that look from when i left, like he was little again, when i could tell he didn’t really want to leave me at the gates, he didn’t want to go in all alone, couldn’t we just go home instead mum? But i was strong. For him. I resisted.

I think, it was when that look started to go, that little boy look, replaced with something, i don’t really want to think about even now, that i really noticed the other patients. One in particular. He looked different from the others. Props to the Helping House, they keep, kept the kids tidy. it was actually lovely, real treat to see Ben all combed and neat, not smelling like his trash dump of a room. And not a whiff of smoke! i’d honestly not have been surprised if he’d snuck in some ciggies in but if he had, they must have confiscated em quick. No fags in the Helping House! I mean-! oh you know, what i mean!

But this one,.. they all dressed in clothes from home, apparently they worked out its better for the process, this one was a mess. Half shaved hair, no knees in the jeans and honestly, sunglasses indoors? who did He think he was!? Mick Jagger? He just slouched in the corner of the visiting room, looking out into the gardens, like he belonged there in that clean good place. They were nice gardens, well looked after, like the kids. I remember it was coming up summer, lots of lovely flowers. lots of happy bees.

Anyway, i did Not like how Ben looked over at, him, while we had our cups of tea. it was this, gooey soft look i’d never seen on him. later i remembered it. it was how his dad looked when we started courting. That cloying honey sweet love that turned sickly and choking far too quick. God, that look, on my boys face? You bet I had words with the staff before i went. I did not bring my boy here to get help and it be ruined by some hooligan with warped intentions. I made sure they understood. They didn't seem to know what i meant by the Sunglasses kid but it’s a big facility, probably get a lot of patients. Their success rate was incredible really, always seemed to be spaces open. Whatever they did, didn’t do a lot though. Cause i kept seeing him, every time i visited. And he drew a crowd. At first it was the ones who didn’t have family to come, poor dears. They’d be sat, close as they could to him. They had rules about touching in the Helping House, and rightly so, helps with, the temptation, but they’d sit there, close as they could to him, just listening, sun on their faces from the big glass window. Now that i’m thinking about it, I don’t think i remember ‘em blinking? Anyway, Could never hear what was said, what venom that creeper was pouring into their ears, whenever i tried to hear him over the other visitors, it just came over as a low buzz. Well, whatever it was, those kids were hooked. I didn't like it. And the next weekend, there more of ‘em! You’d have kids that’d be crying one week that their family hadn't come, who didn't give two shits the next, pardon my french. They’d be sat in the corner, happy sappy faces, listening to whatever nonsense that kid was murmuring to his little flock. They didn’t touch, not then, but it was a close thing, i remember being so shocked that nothing was being done about it. It was obviously a problem. that weirdo was the problem.

But my boy didn’t stray. He might’ve looked over at that hive of idiots who worked against what these good people were trying to do for them, with that… look. But he stayed and drank his tea with me like he should. He looked tired, but i knew that’s cause he was working hard, getting better. i got the reports.

But the last couple of visits, i come in and it’s just my boy in the visitors room. The rest were outside in the garden, in the flowers. All those kids, twenty or so of em, tangled in each other, touching and so close. I don’t think they were, Doing things but, it was against regulation for sure, and I stood up, to go do something, anything, even just yell at them to stop it, ask what they thought they were doing!? That’s when the Buzzing started. For a second i thought it was just a bee come in from the garden, poor little bumble trapped indoors but it was in my ears, in my head. It was nothing i’d ever felt before and I’ve had Tinitus and that’s a nasty bugger but it was more than that.

Been to the doctors since. Apparently they can’t work it out, whats causing it. All they can say was it wasn’t Tinitus.

I think it was, Sunglasses looking at me. I remember when i got up, to tell ‘em off, i remember light in the corner of my eye, like a reflection off glass. I think he turned, he knew i was going to stop em and he-

Last sunday was the last time, the last visit. Had a big tin of biscuits, gingerbread, Ben’s favourite, had some nice news about his cousin getting into uni, first in the family! Always had hopes Ben would be the second, but- Ben wasn’t waiting for me. He was outside. With Them.

Him.

There he was, holding the hand of that freak and the staff were just stood round like numpty’s doing nothing! Dumb faces and vacant as their patients were outside rolling about in the sun like it was the 60’s! And smoking! I thought, they must’ve found a stash cause i could see the smoke, swirling dark against the sky, dark against their smiling, stupid faces.

I was furious. i was, so angry.

I think thats why i did it. I was so angry that i couldn’t think of anything else to do but grab that sunglasses wearing freak who was corrupting my boy, who was holding his hand and steering him wrong and undoing all my work and love, and shake my anger out of him. I was yelling all that, yelling at him. I remember he was light, not as heavy as he should be, not for a kid his age and that he didn’t flinch. And he spoke to me, in that low drone that I thought had been just distance and space distorting his voice, but was just him, god it was just him.

I cant remember exactly what he said, something about love, real love, some hippy nonsense. No, i remember one thing. The little shit asked if i thought i was ‘my child’s real Family.” ‘Of course, i said, ‘i’m his mother’ Then he smiled, like i was wrong and i hated him. And I could see myself, in that dark reflection, in those stupid shades and i couldn’t stand it. I wish i hadn’t, done what i did. i just didn’t want to see myself in that black mirror anymore, all twisted and hateful. Turns out it was far nicer than what was behind them.

I let go, dropped it, that thing in ripped jeans and stripes and it fell into the flowers. There were so many happy bees. Thats when i heard the other kids. They had it’s voice, shared it’s voice, that drone. That buzz. i didn’t dare look at them. My ears, started up again, like before but, that sound, their sound, it made it louder and i honestly thought my head might explode and I turn to Ben, my boy, who had dropped to his knees in front of that thing, holding it’s hand and for a second, I thought he was smoking again, dark wisps coming from his downturned face and, I just, my fear turned to anger, for just a second, that he would do that here and now.

But I begged him to come away, to leave it alone, to get better, to just be my little boy again, to come home with mummy. Then he looked up, my Ben, and his face- it wasn’t smoke, it had never been smoke. it was the same as whatever had been bumbling around in the creature that still lay in the flowers but Ben smiled all the same. I, feel crazy, crazy saying it but- as the bees poured out of my little boy’s smiling mouth in that choking swarm, their buzzing droning out his words, my boys last-

My name is Sarah

i’d never seen him happier.

Apparently I fainted. Never fainted in my life, i’ll tell you, too tough for that sort of thing, but i must’ve. Police think it’s what saved me. I like to think otherwise. Officially, what happened was that the patients turned on the staff, killed em and left. Simple, explainable. Some sicko’s like to use what happened as an argument against conversion therapy, old hippy dykes that don’t have enough to picket over, idiots. They didn’t see the bodies, they didn’t see what those ‘helpless victims’ did- They dragged them outside after they killed em, into the sun, into the flowers. I remember waking up once, amongst all the dead. Happy bees, dipping their beaks into the blood of the doctors. Plenty of sugar in blood, I read.

Ben was all i had left, my only family. I don’t have no one left. You don’t get many visitor when the papers insist you made your kid a killer. Don’t even get phone calls from Dave anymore, but i call that blessing. He was barely Ben’s dad anyway. I’ve gotten used to the quiet. i go to work, i come home, watch a bit of telly. the buzz from the old tv only scares me a little. I know i did my best for him. i believe that, after everything. I wouldn’t be here though, if, there wasn’t, something else.

I had a visitor the yesterday. Wasn’t expecting it, thought it was a missionary, Jehovah’s or something. Was ready to tell them to piss off, i tell you. It was a girl. Said she was my daughter. she looked like my Ben, same smile, same funny little knees he used to scrape up, ones i used to kiss better. It wasn’t Ben. My Ben had eyes. My daughters words buzzed, like there was something in her throat. Perhaps the same things that crawled where her eyes would be, round and yellow and bumbling, i thought, and my head starting hurting again. She only stayed at the door, didn’t come in. She said she just wanted to say hello.

She said she’ll visit again.

That she’ll bring her family.

i don’t think she means me anymore.’ The magnus archives belongs to Rusty Quill, the above belongs to me!

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castielpit · 3 years ago

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The Nightmares Don’t Stop- 7

Warnings: weapons including firearms,

Chapter List

Steve glances at Natasha as if waiting for an answer. She complies.

“Just catching up with my old friend here,” she grins. Steve looks at Peter.

“Hello again there Peter,” Steve nods to Peter who blushes profusely. Natasha sighs in exasperation. You get the feeling Peter might be more familiar with the Avengers than he lets on. “Not Peter, Steve. Y/n here. I met her at a bar the other day. I was observing her as one of the members of my group.” Natasha replies to Steve. You look at her confused, as does Steve.

“We weren’t supposed to interact with our recruits outside of observing them from a respective distance, Nat.” Steve states with an authoritative tone.

“I didn’t realize you would be ‘observing’ us at all prior to today,” you frown at the ground, feeling a bit violated.

“Yeah, me neither,” Peter interjects softly.

“It was in the contracts you both signed. We needed to see what the recruits were like in real life to make sure they weren't possible threats to the team,” Natasha shrugs. “I wasn’t going to interfere but I also didn’t want to see you get hurt or worse,” she says to you. Memories of the sleazebag at the bar come back to you and you nod at her appreciatively. Steve seems to understand as well. The two superheroes walk off in the direction the others went, but not before Steve throws a small smile your way, the sight of which sent butterflies to your stomach. He seemed like such a genuine guy, someone you could see yourself crushing on before your life went to shit. A security guard clears his throat behind you and Peter, causing you to jump a little bit. It wasn’t typical for someone to be able to surprise you but Steve’s smile had caught you off-guard. The man opens the door and gestures through it.

“FRIDAY please guide these two back to the dining area,” the guard states monotonously. You and Peter take a hint and step through the doors, following FRIDAY’s instructions to the dining hall in silence. You both step inside to see people sitting at various tables labeled “Group 1” “Group 2” and “Group 3” while munching on various breakfast foods. You nod politely at Peter. “Guess this is where we go our separate ways,” you say to him. “I hope to see you in the finals if our paths don’t cross before then.” You smile at him slightly, hoping to give the nervous-looking boy some comfort. He grins back at you.

“Come on, you and I quoted Vine to each other. We’re practically best friends now. We should maybe- if you want to, I mean- exchange numbers, unless you don’t want to, of course...” Peter sheepishly holds out his unlocked phone to you which you then grab and text your own number as you two chatter about random things. Both of you are electing to ignore the weird confrontation with three Avengers from before. You barely have time to hand back his phone when the man named Happy appears and unceremoniously holds out a uniform to each of you. He leaves after you both accept the offered articles of clothing.

“Should we go change? I don’t even know where the bathrooms are,” you half-ask Peter, looking at the ugly uniform.

“I can show you,” Peter offers before quickly jerking his head up. “I mean I can ask FRIDAY for us. For you. Since we would change separately, obviously.” He smiles at you as you raise your eyebrows. Clearly Peter knows more about the Avengers and the compound than he’s openly willing to let on, but you choose not to push him. You chuckle to ease his nerves.

“Alright weirdo, sounds like a plan,” you say to him teasingly. He beams as the two of you walk into the hallway and do exactly as Peter said. You return to the dining area dressed for the Hunger Games, not seeing Peter and wonder where to sit. Suddenly, FRIDAY announces to the room.

“Attention recruits. I have been told to instruct your respective groups on the next are your presences will be required within the next five minutes. Team Winners will follow the yellow lights to Mr. Stark’s lab, Team Spandex will follow the red lights to the shooting range, and Team Old Man will follow the blue lights to the indoor gym. Please be prompt,” FRIDAY announces, repeating herself once more before going silent.

Lights appear in two of the hallways. Red and blue lights leading in one direction with yellow lights leading in another. You do as told and follow the red lights. Eventually the blue lights diverge on another path and you are left with some other recruits who you guess will be your new “friends” for the rest of the month. Eventually the hallway leads you into a shooting range. Various stalls are open, each with multiple weapons laying on their tables. You don’t have long to take it in before a familiar voice brings your attention to the far end of the stalls.

“Hello. Let’s cut straight to the chase here. For the rest of the week you will all be trained and judged on your abilities that I specialize in. This includes proficiency in various weapons, though Bucky will go over some of that with you all a bit more in-depth later on. We will start here and move on to mental strength and skills later in the week. For now, me and Clint here will be your instructors. A man jumps down from the shadows. You recognize him as Clint Barton, AKA Hawkeye.

“Hey there runts! Don’t let Miss Professionalism here throw you off, she has a heart under that icy exterior,” Clint teases, Natasha glaring at him teasingly. “I think..” He rubs the back of his neck and you chuckle along with the recruits. “Today is mostly just us testing the waters but once we see what you’re all capable of, we can play to your strengths! If everyone could step up to a stall please…” He gestures to the stalls. You end up near the side closest to the far wall where Natasha stands. The rest of the stalls had been taken pretty quickly, likely because everyone was too intimidated to stand near the Black Widow. She throws you a quick reassuring smile. You nod back, still a little embarrassed about having her drag your drunkass back to your apartment the other night.

You look at the weapons in front of you. There is a compound bow, a crossbow, various arrows, handguns, and a few different rifles. You had never shot a gun before, but you figured your minor in physics must be good for something here. It’s not like anything could go wrong, giving a bunch of over-eager 20-something year olds access to firearms. Perfectly safe! A look of incredulity must have crossed over your face because when you look up, Natasha glances over at you in amusement. The two Avengers walked out between the stalls and the targets so that they were visible to everyone. Behind them leaned against the wall are weapons that appear to be the same as the ones laid out in front of you. They are standing so that your line of sight is perpendicular to theirs. At the far end of the stalls is a wall with a couple body targets on it. “Clint and I will demonstrate a weapon out here and then we will return behind the stalls with you to help your form and observe. This will continue until we have gone through all of the weapons once. Any questions?” Natasha asks as Clint picks up a crossbow and sheathes an arrow. He shouts various tips and instructions before finally executing them in one swift action, loading the arrow into the head of one of the dummy targets. He and Natasha step back behind the stalls to join the recruits once again. Arrows begin to bombard the line of targets. You take a few shots, feeling eyes on your back every once in a while. You expect Natasha or Clint to step in and correct your form at some point as you had heard them do with others, but the corrections never come. Looking at your target, you realize you have sunken all five of your arrows into the human-shaped target. Two in the torso, one in the knee, and two in the head.

“Alright everybody stop and please unload your crossbows and set them down in front of you,” Natasha’s voice rings out. Everyone does as they are told and the two Avengers appear in front of the stalls once again. This time, Clint holds a compound bow with a look of excitement on his face. He glances at all of the targets, taking note of yours in particular as he tilts his head at you with an eyebrow raised. The moment passes and the weapon walkthrough picks up once again. This continues until the last weapons demonstration with one of the rifles. You have done decently so far. Natasha had been the one to demonstrate all of the firearms, making sure everyone put their headphones on correctly before any shots were made. You had done pretty well for having as little experience as you did. All of your shots hit the body target, but it’s not like you were the only one. You were, however, aware that you were the only one who had not been corrected on their form up to this point.

Everyone placed their headphones on for the final demonstration and then readied their weapons and began shooting. This rifle had a bit more kickback than any of the other weapons so far and it startled you. You feel eyes on you after your second shot and suddenly a hand reaches up and gently grabs your wrist.

#avengers #bucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #tony stark #marvel fic

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whitehotharlots · 4 years ago

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Previewing the 2024 Democrat Primary

Within a couple weeks of his being sworn in, just about every person on earth will wish Joe Biden was no longer president. Sure, the few surviving John B. Anderson voters will be thrilled to see 4 years of crushing austerity and half-assed attempts at Keynesian stimulus. But most people will begin dreaming about a brighter future.

Good news! The 2024 Democratic primary field is going to contain dozens of options. Bad news! They are all going to be disgusting piles of shit.

The “top tier”

While it’s too early to do any handicapping, these are the candidates the media will treat as having the most realistic chances of securing the nomination.

Kamala Harris

Kamala did not win a single primary delegate in 2020. This is because she dropped out before the first primary, and that was because no one likes her. She has no base beyond a few thousand of twitter’s most violent psychos. Her disingenuousness approaches John Edwards levels: any halfway incredulous person can see immediately beyond her bullshit. She has no principles whatsoever, and while that may be par for the course for Democrats, she lacks even the basic politician’s ability to intuit anything that might, hypothetically, constitute a principle.

Even better: she is an awful public speaker. She sounds like how a talking dog would speak if he were just caught stealing people food off the kitchen table. She communicates in weird grunts and faux sassy squeaks, which is how she imagines real black women sound like, but something about her is unable to sell the bit. She begins her sentences in halfhearted AAVE, stops and panics halfway through as she realizes that maybe this sounds fake and offensive, and then reminds herself oh wait, no, this is okay since I’m black. This doesn’t happen once or twice per speech. This is how every single sentence sounds.

Kamala is like Nancy Pelosi in that no sketch show will ever impersonate her correctly, because anything that came close to authenticity would be considered far too cruel. This might benefit her in the primaries, as she exists in the minds of Democrats as someone and something she absolutely is not in reality. Nominating her would be like allowing your child’s imaginary friend to attempt to drive you to the store.

Andrew Cuomo

Easily one of the 50 worst people alive, Cuomo has a solid chance because Democrats, same as Republicans, are unable to differentiate between electability and self-serving ruthlessness. Cuomo used the deadliest public health crisis in American history as a pretext for cutting Medicaid and firing 5,000 MTA workers, and his approval rating increased. New York Dems are little piggies who love eating shit. If we assume that the political media will continue their habit of refusing to discuss the legislative history of right wing Democrats, Cuomo might well cruise to the nomination and then lose to literally any human being the GOP nominates by an historic margin.

Joe Biden

The party loves him because he is a right wing racist. “Progressives” tolerate him because black primary voters over 40 supported him, and their opinion is supposedly a magic window into god’s truth. Everyone else can tell he is manifestly senile. I don’t put it above the DNC to pick a candidate who is in horrible health, dying, or even dead--whatever the financial sector wants, they’ll get. But I would be shocked if his approval rating is above 39% by mid-2023, and by that point deep fake technology will be advanced enough they’ll put out a very lifelike video in which the Max Headroom version of Joe explains he’s proud of his accomplishments--that budget’s almost balanced already--but, man, I gotta abd--I gotta abdica--, uhh, I gotta, I, uhh, I gotta move down, man.

Wild Cards

These candidates would have all have a chance if they ran, but they could all much more easily retire to Little Saint James off of kickbacks they’ve gotten from Citibank and I.G. Farben.

Rahm Emanuel

Rahm is going to receive some hugely influential post in the Biden administration. Let’s say he becomes Secretary of Education. His signature achievement will be replacing all elementary school teachers with Amazon’s Alexa, which saved the taxpayers so much money we were able to quadruple the number of armed police officers we put into high schools. This will give him several thousand positive profiles on network news programs and the near-universal support of the Silicon Valley vampires who will own 99% of the country by the time Biden’s term ends. They will use their fancy mind control devices to convince geriatic primary voters that Rahm’s the one who will bring Decency back to the white house. His candidacy will be the paragon of wokeness, as expressing concern toward the fact that he covered up the police murder of a black guy will get you called a racist.

Rahm has a bonus in that Jewish men are now Schrodeniger’s PoC. When they are decent human beings, they are basic, cis white men who are stealing attention from disabled trans candidates of color. When they love austerity and apartheid, they become the most vulnerable people of color on earth and criticizing them in any way is genocide. No one will be able to mention a single thing Rahm has ever done or said without opening themselves to accusations of antisemitism, and that gives him a strong edge against the rest of the field. The good news is that an Emmanuel candidacy would result in over 50% of black voters choosing the GOP candidate--which, I guess that’s not really good but it would certainly be funny.

Gavin Newsom

Newsom is every bit as feckless as Cuomo, but he doesn’t put off the same “bad guy in an early Steven Segal movie” vibes. He will mention climate change 50 times per speech and no one will bother to mention how he keeps signing fracking contracts even though his state is now on fire 11 months of the year. If anything, this will be spun into an argument about how he’s actually the candidate best suited to handle all the water refugees gathering on the southern border. Look for his plan to curb emissions by 10% by the year 2150 to get high marks from Sierra Club nerds. He’s also a celebate librarian’s idea of what constitutes a handsome man, so he’ll have some support from the type of women who claim to hate all men.

Larry Summers

I mean, why not? Larry, like most members of the Obama administration, has politics that are eerily similar to those of Jordan Peterson. In normal circumstances, this makes a person a dangerous fascist who should not be platformed. But if that person has a D next to their name this makes them a realistic pragmatist who has what it takes to bring suburban bankers into our tent. If current trends in Woke Phrenology continue apace, Larry’s belief that women are inherently bad at STEM will be liberal orthodoxy by 2023, and his dedication to the Laffer Curve could see him rake in massive donations. Seriously, I’m not kidding: cultural liberalism is now fully dedicated to identity essentialism and balanced budgets. Larry is their ideal candidate. If he were black and/or a woman, I’d put him in the very top tier.

Jay Inslee

Unlike Newsom, Inslee’s attempt to crown himself the King of Global Warming won’t be immediately derailed, since his state is only on fire because of protestors. This, however, poses a different problem. He’s going to be a good test case for the Democrat’s uneasy peace with the ever increasing share of the electorate who become catatonic upon hearing a pronoun. On the one hand, you need to take their votes for granted. On the other hand, they’re not like black people or regular gays: most voters actively, consciously despise wokies, and associating yourself with them will ruin a campaign even in deep blue areas. There’s still gonna be riots in a year. Biden’s gonna announce the sale of all our nation’s potable water to the good folks at Nestle and some trans freak named Sasha-Malia DeBalzac is going to use that as an opportunity to sell their new pamphlet about how it’s fascist to not burn down small businesses. No matter what Inslee does in response, it’ll end his career.

AOC

I’m not one of those “AOC is a secret conservative” weirdos, but I am aware enough of basic reality to know she has zero chance of coming close to the nomination. The right and the center both regard her as a literal demon. The party is already blaming her for the fact that a handful of faceless Reagan acolytes failed to flip their suburban districts even though they ran on sensible pragmatic proposals like euthanizing the homeless. The recriminations will only get more unhinged when the Dems eat shit in the 2022 midterms. She will be a Russian, she will be white male, she will be a communist, she will be a homophobe: any insult or conspiracy theory you can name, MSNBC will spend hours discussing. Her house seat challenger will receive a record amount of support from the DNC in 2024 and it’ll be all she can do to remain in congress.

Larry Hogan

Don’t be dissuaded by the fact that he’s a Republican. Larry is the DNC’s ideal candidate: a physically repulsive conservative who owes his entire career to appealing to the most spiteful desires of suburban white people. He’s an open racist in a material sense--if you’re old-school enough to think racism is a matter of beliefs and actions, rather than the presence of cultural signifiers--but his is the beloved “never Trump” style of racism that Dems covet. He’s also a Proven Leader who thinks the role of government should be to finance the construction of investment property and give police the resources they need to run successful drug trafficking operations. Few people embody the Democrat worldview more than Larry.

The Losers Bracket

These people will have at least a small chance due solely to the fact that the Democrats love losing. They have lost in the past, and in the Democrat Mind that makes them especially qualified.

Joe Kennedy

The man looks like a mushroom-human hybrid from a JRPG. Trump proved that physical hideousness need not doom a presidential bid, but a candidate still needs some kind of charm or oratorical abilities or, god forbid, a decent platform. Joe aggressively lacks all of these things. A vanity campaign would be a good way to raise money and perhaps secure an MSNBC gig, so Joe might still run.

Mayor Pete

I am 100% convinced that Pete’s 2020 run was a CIA plot meant to prevent working class Americans from ever having a chance of living decent lives. I am also 100% aware that Democrats are dumb enough to enthusiastically support a CIA plot meant to prevent working class Americans from ever having a chance of living decent lives. If we have some sort of military or terror disaster between now and 2023 the Dems are sure to want a TROOP, and wait wait wait you’re telling me this one is a gay troop? Holy hell there’s no way that could lose!

Stacy Abrams

Never underestimate the power of white guilt. She lost the gubernatorial race to Gomer Pyle’s grandson, and her spiritual guidance of the Dems saw the party lose black voters in Georgia in 2020. Nonetheless, she is regarded as a magic font of fierceness within the DNC. She might stand a chance if she can establish herself as the most conservative non-white candidate in the field, but there’s going to be stiff competition for that honor.

Elizabeth Warren

Liz is probably angry that the party so shamelessly sold her out even after she was a good little girl and sabatoged Bernie’s campaign for them--yet another example of high ranking US government officials reneging on their promises to the Native American community. Smdh. The fact that this woman hasn’t been bankrupted a dozen times over by various Wallet Inspectors genuinely astounds me. So Liz is probably going to run again, and her campaign will be even sadder the second time around.

It might surprise you to hear this if you don’t work at a college or NGO, but Liz diehards actually do exist. She’ll get even less support this time because there will be no viable leftist in the field for her to spoil, but she’ll still hang in long enough to make sure the very worst possible candidate beats out the second worst possible candidate. Maybe she’ll fabricate a rape accusation against Sherrod Brown. Maybe she’ll spend her entire allotted debate time doing a land acknowledgment. With Liz, anything is possible--so long as it ends in failure.

Amy Klobuchar

Amy was the most bloodthirsty of the 2020 also rans. She will double down on the unpopular failures of the Biden administration, explaining that if you weren’t such a selfish idiot you’d love the higher social security retirement age and oh my god are so such a moron you think you shouldn’t go bankrupt to get a COVID vaccine? There’s a non-unsubstantial segment of the Democratic base that’s self-hating enough to find this appealing, but it won’t be enough to make her viable.

Martha Coakley

She lost Ted Kennedy’s senate seat to a retarded man who was pretending to be even more retarded than he actually was. Then she lost a gubernatorial race to a guy who openly promised Massachusetts voters that he would punish them for electing him. Her record of failure is unparalleled, making her perhaps the ideal Democrat standard bearer for the twenty twenties.

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 5 years ago

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Lucky charm

A/N: This was requested by anonymous. Thank you so much for requesting! I hope you enjoyed! let me know what you think!

Summary: Hi I was wondering if you could do a reddie x reader, where they’re doing the ritual of Chud and the reader confesses to always loving them but never admitting it till now and they all make it out alive and live happy lives.

‘Your artificets’, Mike proclaims, ‘place them in the fire. The past must burn with the present.’

At his words, everyone goes to reach for their token, ready to burn them for the ritual. You hesitate, and decide to wait before bringing it out of your pocket.

You’re scared of the consequences. Despite only remembering the losers for a day, you couldn’t imagine having to live without them ever again. Bev pulled up the postcard where the poem was written on. The same poem that you and Bev had spent hours analyzing when you were kids. The times spend questioning who the boy could be that wrote it were some of the best times you had ever had in your life.

Back then Bev had hoped it was Bill, but looking at the way Ben stared at her and the card, suddenly the answer was pretty clear. You wondered if Bev had noticed, she never did when you were kids, and she didn’t seem to notice it now. She was the only one who knew the truth about you. The only one who knew that you had been in love with both Richie and Eddie.

It wasn’t really that you didn’t trust the other losers, minus of course Richie and Eddie, but you were afraid of what they might think of you. To be in love with one of them is already bad enough, let alone being in love with both of them. Bill is the first one to speak. He hold up a paper boat, with the initials SS Georgie on it.

‘This is the boat that I built, with G-‘, he paused, Georgie.’ He reaches forward and drops it into the fire. Nobody speaks for a couple of seconds, just letting it sink in that they were about to say goodbye to gimmicks of their past. Eddie is next. He’s holding his inhaler, toying it around in his hand. You don’t dare to make eye contact with him, the shame is already burning too deep for that. ‘It’s my inhaler’, he says. His eyebrows raise up while looking around the group. He and Richie share eye contact and your heart clenches. Then he reaches the inhaler to his mount to take one last puff.

‘Come on, dude’, Richie inquires, causing you to let out a wet laugh. Their dynamic hadn’t changed at all. Eddie then tosses his inhaler in the fire, looking at you as he does so.

‘Something that I wish I held on to.’ Bev stares at the postcard as she speaks, seemingly saying goodbye to it. Ben stares at her, captivated. The same way he has always looked at her, you wished someone would look at you like that.

‘This is a page from my yearbook. That only one person signed. I probably should have forgotten it, but I couldn’t because I kept it in my wallet.’ Ben takes a deep breath, ‘for 27 years.’ Beverly looks shocked, amazed at the fact that Ben still had that. It takes her a few seconds to realize that she was the one that Ben was talking about, but once she does, an emotion appears in her eyes. One that you had never seen in her before. You hoped they would man up soon, and confess to each other how they felt. That is, if they made it out of here alive. You didn’t want to think about that, but it was a real possibility.

Richie is quick to utter; ‘this is a token from the Capitol Theater,’ literally tossing the token in the fire.

‘You brought an actual token?’ Eddie mussed.

‘Yeah man’, Richie answers. You notice for the first time that Richie’s glasses are broken. You wonder if that isn’t annoying him. It’s such a unimportant thought that it almost makes you laugh. You are certain that Richie had had worse things happen to them but still.

‘Do you have any idea how long that’s gonna take to burn?’ Eddie complains crossing his arms on his chest.

‘Eddie’, you groan, though everyone can clearly hear the laugh in your voice.

‘That’s what we were supposed to do’, he adds exaggerated.

Richie grins at you. ‘Yeah but so is your inhaler, dude.’

‘Can you please stop calling him dude, dude.’ You beg rolling your eyes at the two man.

‘Guys, come on,’ Ben backs you up. You shoot him a thankful smile, missing the way throws him a heated stare.

‘All the toxic fumes and the plastic and shit so.’ Richie adds, not one to back down. Mike ignores them. He taps you with his elbow encouraging you to throw your artifact in. You falter though, and Mike must still know you well enough, because he relents after seeing your face. Instead he shows his tokes first, a rock from the rock right after which he joined the losers club all those years ago.

He drops the rock into the fire, without pause, and suddenly, you’re the only one left to show your artifact. Eddie taps him on the shoulder, ‘that’s not gonna burn either.’

Shakenly, you take the necklace out of your pocket. You refuse adamantly too look at anyone, staring ahead to a spot on the floor. You shake your head, trying to think of anything to say. You come up empty handed. You know what you would like to say, but you’re afraid of saying it, and you’re afraid of how the others might respond. You wonder if Eddie and Richie recognize it.

There’s a part of you that hopes they do, and a part of you that hopes they don’t. ‘This is the Necklace-‘, you pause, clearing your throat before continuing. ‘-this is the necklace that my two best friends gave to me. They spend a really long time making it, and they gave it to me when I was really sad.’

Technically that was lie, Mike was your best friend back you were still kids, but you couldn’t tell Eddie and Richie that you had been in love with them at that age, that was way too embarrassing. Your laugh sounds empty, without any joy.

You were happy to have the memory back of the day you got it, you were glad to have the necklace back. It was given to you when you were twelve, after a boy had stood you up for the school dance. It had seemed so important back then.

It was the first heartbreak experience you had ever had, and it seemed like the world was going to collapse. Richie and Eddie had followed you after seeing you upset, all the way up to the quarry, and Eddie had even joined you and Richie sitting down on the Forrest ground, despite how he must have been dying inside of doing so.

Richie and Eddie had gone to the prom with each other, mostly because no one wanted to be their date, but it still warmed your heart that they chose to come after you. Richie had offered you the necklace, apparently he and Eddie had been working on it for two months. It had a few different blue and green stones. It was tied together by a wooden string. It looked like it would fall apart at the seams, though as you kept it for many years, it turned out that it was more than sturdy enough.

Still, as soon as you got it, it became your favorite thing you had ever received. You wore it everyday and to every occasion. It was like your lucky charm.

You liked to believe that it was the necklace that kept you safe during pennywise, but maybe that was superstition. Either way, whenever you had a bad moment you would clench the stones in your hand, and it helped to settle you down.

When you remembered the necklace, you felt awful, put it also made some things make sense. Like when you first got to college, and you reached for your neck, as if you were looking for something, but you couldn’t find anything. Now that you knew it existed you had trouble letting it go.

‘And it’s really important to me because I’m in love with them.’ Your eyes fill with tears instantly, and your shaking gets even worse. You hear Eddie gasp, so you know he must have figured out what you were talking about.

‘Yeah, I’m in love with two people like some weirdo. I’m so sorry guys. It’s just that I can’t keep it to myself anymore. In my whole life I’ve never had anyone know me completely. I understand that I might have just ruined everything, but I don’t want to keep any part of me hidden anymore. I’m tired of hiding my feelings.’

You’re addressing Eddie and Richie, but it’s Bill that responds. He places his hand on your back, in an effort to comfort you.

‘That’s okay, Y/N, that doesn’t change a-a-anything,’ Bill consoled.

‘Yeah’, sniffing you shoot him a small smile. You refuse to look at neither Richie nor Eddie.

‘Let’s talk about this after we make it out of here alive okay?’

You glance up when you see shuffling from the corner of your eye. It’s Eddie, his face a bright red. It makes the white of his bandages stand out even more. ‘That also isn’t going to burn’, Richie mumbles, just as shocked as Eddie. Richie clears his throat opening his mouth, probably to say something stupid, but you interject.

‘Hey what about Stan’s artifact? We should probably throw that in there too.’

Eddie is still stuck, his eyes darting between Richie and you, before getting an elbow to the ribs from Ben and reaching for the shower cap in his back pocket.

‘Right’, he laughs nervously before throwing the cap into the still burning fire.

Mike reaches his hand out to you, and you grasp it, turning around to do that same with Bill. It reminds you of the time after killing pennywise, 27 years ago. Except Stan was still there, and you hadn’t ruined your friendship with Richie and Eddie. However you couldn’t focus on that now, right now you needed to make sure that you killed IT for real.

‘The ritual of Chud. It’s a battle of wills. The first step was our reunion. The second was the gathering of our tokens. This is the final step.’ Mike explains. He looks determined, and you’re glad at least one person was confident that you were going to win this.

Eddie and Richie are holding hands, for the circle, but they’re still holding hands. You wished you knew what they were thinking, because it would help to calm your franticly beating heart down. You just wanted to know if they hated you. You could live with them not returning your feelings, but you couldn’t live with them not even wanting to be your friends anymore.

They weren’t looking at each other either, and it would rip you heart to shreds if their relationship was ruined by your confession. The fire suddenly blows out on its own. A quite ‘what the fuck’, falls from you lips squeezing Bill’s and Mike’s hand tighter.

Out of nowhere a light suddenly appears above you and the losers, and your gaze is instantly pulled towards it. It feels like you can’t look away.

Next to you, you hear Bill utter his own ‘what the fuck’, but you can’t pull your gaze away.

‘Don’t look at it’. Mike screams, having issues looking away aswell. ‘Don’t look at it’, he repeats.

‘Are those the deadlights?’ Eddie asks fearfully, but he follows Mike’s order without waiting for the answer.

You keep staring, mesmerized by the blinding lights. You know you have to stop gazing at them, but you’re having difficulty listening to reason. It’s Richie’s frightful scream of your names that snaps you out if it. The sound of his voice is so chilling, it causes you focus on him, suppressing the shiver that wants to roll through your body.

‘Turn light into dark. Turn light into dark. Say it’, Mike screams loudly. Frowning in confusion, you begin to repeat the words. It doesn’t seem to do anything, but considering everyone is following Mike’s lead, you continue to bellow the words anyway.

The lights come closer and closer, and suddenly it appears that they’re gone. The dark returning. Mike lets go of your hand, and reflectively you reach for him, but he’s already trying to push the lid back on the artifact.

‘Holy shit did it work’? You question, hope shining through in your voice. Mike laughs, a little manic, but he stops abruptly when a red balloon tries to push the lid off. ‘Is that supposed to be happening’? Bev squawks.

‘Mike is this supposed to be happening’?

It clearly, by the look of panic on Mike’s face, is not supposed to be happening, and in an effort to help him, you too reach forward to try and keep the lid in place. The damage is already done though, and the balloon continues to inflate, until you have to take cover before it explodes completely.

The blast slams you against a sharp piece of rock, hurting your shoulder in the process. Your ears are ringing, and for a second all you can focus on is the feeling of blood, dripping from you shoulder down your arm. Then Eddie appears in you sight.

He crouches down beside you, placing you in a sitting position. His eyes widen when they the blood, and he’s pushing your jacket off before you can even fully process that he’s here. ‘Hey Y/N, are you okay’? He ask franticly, but it sounds like you’re listening to him underwater. After shaking your head a few times, your hearing clears out, and you can hear Richie calling yours and Eddie’s name.

He too, worries about the wound on your shoulder, but you assure them both that it’s not that serious. You’ve had much worse. You realize with a startle that they’re both here and worried about you, so they must at the very least not hate you. The thought makes you smile.

‘What are you laughing at weirdo?’ Richie teases, and Eddie laughs. Before anything more can be said, Pennywise appears from behind the spikes where you had just stood a minute ago.

He startles you, and you jump up with a small scream. Mike’s ritual didn’t work, and you didn’t know what other options there were to beat this demon clown.

‘Oh did it work Mikey, did it work?’ IT taunts, and a guilty look takes over Mike’s face.

‘Tell them why your silly ritual didn’t work.’

‘M-m-mikey?’ Bill asks, the whole group peering at Mike. Promptly you understand what’s happening.

‘It wasn’t real was it Mike?’

‘What the fuck do you mean, Y/N? What isn’t real? Somebody answer me’, Eddie demands.

Mike nods solemnly. ‘I’m sorry guys. But, but they didn’t believe.’ He stammered. ‘They didn’t believe they could kill IT. That’s why it didn’t work back then, that’s why it was supposed to work now.’

‘Are you fucking kidding me Mike?’

The deadlight make a sudden reappearance, and in shock you grasp Eddie’s sweater, because he was the closest to you.

‘For 27 years, I dreamt of you, I craved you, oh I missed you’, IT chuckles darkly. ‘Time to float’; his hand turns into a sharp claw, going after the entire losers club.

‘Fuck’, you manage to say, right before you’re dragged along by your friends, running as fast as you can. You have no time to think about it rationally, all you think about is running and surviving.

Richie, Eddie and you seek coverage behind a giant rock, watching as the rest of the losers also find a hiding spot. IT goes after Bill first, but he must have made an escape as IT’s eyes turn to you.

‘Do you think he can see us’? Richie asks, making you laugh for a second before IT slams forward, causing the three of you to scream and continue running.

You bolt further into the cave, feeling IT’s eyes still on you. When you’ve run far enough to have a small semblance of safety, you pause, trying to catch your breath. You’re worried about your friends, and hope that they’re somewhere where IT couldn’t catch you.

You’re startled, once your brain process the fact that you are now alone with both Richie and Eddie after just confessing your love for them. They’re already looking at you, most likely waiting for you to say something, anything, but you can’t think of a thing. Your mind comes up blank, and you panic. You’re not ready for whatever they’re about to say.

‘oh no’, you mutter, before turning around and going back the way you come. Richie’s arms circle around your middle before you have even moved so much as a step, pulling you against his chest.

‘Where are you going, back to IT to get killed’? He ask which yeah, he has a good point. He puts you down, only when you promise to stay put.

Eddie stands behind you, pulling you into a hug as soon as you stand on the ground again. All three of your breathing is still heavy, but you do your best to calm down as soon as possible. It’s only when Eddie lets you go that you notice the three doors. On each door respectively is written; not scary, scary, very scary.

You’re not particularly interested in opening any one of those. Eddie and Richie day something, but you don’t listen to them as you step forward toward the door scary. ‘No no wait’, Richie says, ‘he’s fucking with us. He did this to me before.’ He walks towards the very scary door, and you’re terrified that he’s wrong. You hesitate alongside Eddie. ‘Trust me’, Richie begs, and Eddie and you look at each other, shrugging before coming closer to Richie.

He opens the door slowly, trying to gauge what’s behind it. It’s a dark closet, pitch black so you can’t see anything in it. All three of you are quite, until a fourth voice speaks up. ‘Where’s my shoe?’

You could swear you had heard that before somewhere, but before you can place it, Richie turns the lights on, and you hear footsteps coming your way. the legs and only the legs of someone come running towards the door. A woman’s voice is laughing. Richie, Eddie and you screeched, and Richie doesn’t hesitate one second before slamming the door shut before the legs can reach you.

You, not trusting Richie anymore, open the door in the middle, labeled Scary. You pull the door open without waiting for Richie and Eddie, not wanting them to be in danger. Behind this door, is your old bedroom. You frown, you can’t remember something happening to you in your room. You hear weeping sounds, and deciding to investigate, you walk further into the door.

‘Hey, Y/N, are you insane get back here’, Eddie whisper shouts. When you don’t respond both Eddie and Richie follow you into the room. The window was open, and despite being in a sewer, you could swear you smelled the lavender of your neighbor’s garden flowing in. You turn towards the bed, Richie and Eddie following your lead. It’s you that’s crying. Your 15 your old self, writing something down in your diary, you have no idea where that thing was.

You’re talking to yourself, and even though you know you never did that, out of fear your parents would hear, you still listened intrigued. You know that it’s one of Pennywise’s tricks, but you can’t figure out what he’s playing at. ‘Dear diary, today I got rejected by the two boys that mean the most to me’, you hear the fake-you say. You turn red, hoping to god Richie and Eddie couldn’t see it.

‘I mean why would they when they have each other? They’ll never fucking love you Y/N’, your fake-voice gets increasingly louder, until it’s so high pitched it hurts your eyes. Fake-you lifts her head, and you gag when you see what she looks like. Your eyes have fallen all the way into your sockets, it seems like you don’t have them at all. There’s blood instead of water on your cheeks, And there’s scratches all over your face out of which a black puss is streaming out. It’s a disgusting sight.

The fake-you cackles loudly, her arms coming up and aiming for you, but Eddie and Richie both take a hand and run out of the room. As soon as your back in the cave, you fall down on your knees, your breath heaving. Richie and Eddie sit in front you, doing their best to calm you down, but it’s not really helpful considering they’re not calm either. ‘Hey Y/N, look at me, I need to tell you something’, Eddie requests, but your too busy focusing on your breathing to comply.

‘Hey Y/N come, on. You’re okay’, Richie tries, but you still feel like there’s no air getting sucked into your lungs, so you ignore him for the time being to.

‘Fuck it’, Eddie proclaims, before tumbling forward, catching your lips with his. You choke, and the kiss is quite honestly terrible. When Eddie pulls back, you follow his lips, this time making it a proper kiss. Your lips slot together, eagerly reciprocating the emotion you feel behind it. When Eddie and you break apart this time, he turns around and kisses Richie.

The sight of them makes your heart grow twice it’s normal size. You’re breathless for a whole different reason now. When Eddie and Richie sink back, Your hand slots behind Richie’s head, bringing his face towards yours. The kiss you share it sweet and amazing. You never thought you would ever be able to kiss one of them, let alone both of them, yet here you were. The happiness you feel almost makes you cry.

‘Listen to me, I love you, the both of you. I can’t imagine my life without either of you. So let’s get out of here, kill this fucking clown and then we can figure this all out later. You just both need to know I love you.’ Richie says, looking mortified at the fact all those words just came out of his mount. ‘Almost as much as I love Eddie’s mom.’

Eddie rolls his eyes dramatically, and you give Richie a light shove, but the truth is that you are more determined than ever to kill IT, and to hopefully start a knee life with the guys that you have loved since you were thirteen. You didn’t need your lucky necklace as long as you had them by your side.

Standing up you reach for Eddie and Richie’s hands, and together you get ready to defeat it. Despite all the determination, defeating Pennywise is not easy.

You awake with a startle, reaching out for the light you know is somewhere on your bedside table. You can’t find it, but you do find a mop a dark hair, knitted with curls. You pull your hand back, startled, but accidentally pull at the hair aswell.

The person who the mop of hair belongs to groans, turning to face you. Richie’s face, what you can make of it in the dark, looks heavy with sleep, still, but seeing you panicked turns a switch, and he’s awake in seconds. On your other side, another person stirs, but doesn’t wake up. When you turn you see it’s Eddie. A breath of relief makes a way out of your lungs. The events after your first kiss were traumatizing.

For Richie because he got caught in the dead lights, for Eddie because he nearly got stabbed, and for you for seeing both of them get hurt so badly. Luckily, you all made it out alive, but it was a close call. You often had nightmares, but you tried your best not to let that deter you. You were happy in life, living with Richie and Eddie. Eddie got a divorce and moved to L.A, with you and Richie. After realizing how close you and Richie lived from each other, you too decided to pack up and move in.

Life was going great, and you weren’t going to let a silly little nightmare destroy any more of the peace. ‘You okay’? Richie asks, plucking a piece of your hair behind you ear. You nod without speaking, shuffling down to claim your place between the two boys again. Eddie, I’m his sleep, throws an arm around bit you and Richie.

You giggle seeing the drool that slipping out from between his lips. Richie snorts when he follows your gaze, stroking his hand affectionately through Eddie’s hair. He presses a kiss to your neck and tangles your legs together. When you fall back asleep, there are no more nightmares, and when you wake up, you thank your lucky stars that you got to have this.

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aliciameade · 6 years ago

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Fade Into You - Ch. 1

Title: Fade Into You (Chapter 1 of 5) Author: aliciameade Rating: T Pairing: Beca/Chloe Summary: Tip for newlyweds: send a wedding invite to every billionaire whose address you can find because it's a 50/50 chance their assistants just send you a perfunctory gift without ever wondering who the hell you are. Or: Beca had a really bad terrible idea when she got tired of being broke in New York.

Also on AO3 and FFnet, but I probably can’t link there idk.

Beca wasn’t prepared for how expensive it was to live in New York City. Sure, she’d done her research; she knew it would be costly, but just how costly it was was wreaking havoc on her bank account. Rent, transportation, groceries, household necessities and the very rare luxuries like a concert or theater ticket here or there to keep her sanity had her living paycheck to paycheck. Even bringing two roommates with her to cram into the tiny Brooklyn studio didn’t help her live any more comfortably (considering only one of them chipped in for rent).

Of course, it probably helped her afford to eat.

Whatever. The point was that it was not quite the life she envisioned for herself once she landed what she thought was a Big Job.

But at least she had her friends.

“Why do I have so many cousins? And why are they all getting married?”

Beca watched Chloe sitting at their tiny dining table on Sunday afternoon (if you could even call it that) as she tossed aside a just-opened fancy envelope and what Beca assumed to be a wedding invitation. As far as she could remember, it was the fourth Chloe had received so far that year. “How many cousins do you have?”

“Sixteen. And I’m the baby of the family so they’re all either married or about to be. And here I am.” She gestured at nothing specific and sighed. “I can barely pay my share of the groceries. I can’t afford to go to all these weddings so I need to send something off their registry, but I can’t afford that, either.”

“Weddings feel like a ploy to get free shit from everyone you met once in your life,” Beca said as she watched Chloe stress out. “Like, congratulations on deciding to spend your life with one person. Why do I have to reward that?”

“It’s like an expectation. You either have to go to the wedding or send a gift. Or both!” Chloe slid her chair back from the table and took the two steps needed to get to their bed which she threw herself on a bit dramatically. “I’m just going to elope.”

She liked being on the same page as Chloe. “And miss out on all the free swag?” Beca said as she nudged Chloe’s foot with her own.

“I don’t want to be part of the problem!”

“Okay, okay!” Beca laughed. “So elope. Must be nice, though: send out a bunch of invitations to people you know won’t come and get a bunch of free stuff in return.”

“I know,” Chloe mumbled into her pillow. “It’s so messed up.”

A devious thought slid through Beca’s mind and she paused the music she’d been playing. “I need a new Keurig; ours is going to die any day now. I can feel it.”

Chloe turned onto her side to look up at Beca. “What does that have to do with anything?”

She closed her laptop and slid down to lie next to Chloe, eye-to-eye. “I have an idea. But before I tell you, I blame it entirely on Amy’s influence.”

“Why Amy?”

“You’ll see. Now hear me out. What if we sent out wedding invitations saying we’re getting married in, like, Fiji where no one we know can afford to go, and set up a wedding registry somewhere.”

“Beca, that’s, like, fraud. No wonder you blamed it on Amy.” Chloe frowned at her. “And no one would believe we’re getting married anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not even dating!” Chloe said with a laugh. “And you don’t even like girls!”

Oh. Right. There were those little details that the people who would make sense to invite to their wedding would know she and Chloe weren’t together. Not to mention the giant elephant in Beca’s mental room that she was actually very into girls and very, very into Chloe.

Except literally no one in her new adult life knew either of those facts about her. The bisexual thing was weird to bring up unprompted at this point, and when she started dating Jesse in college, everyone just assumed she was straight and made it even weirder to try to correct.

And the Chloe thing, well...that was all sorts of messy and complicated.

“Okay, first of all, a person can fall in love with someone who’s not their usual...type, so anyone who says shit about that can fuck right off.”

Chloe seemed a bit surprised by her declaration but waved for her to continue. “And the fact that it’s me?”

She had to stop herself from saying, “It’s everything.” Instead, she said, “We’ve basically been living together for six years. I don’t think it’s that far-fetched.”

Chloe was quiet for a moment, thinking, and then a slow smile spread across her face. “Beca Mitchell, you devious little devil. You actually think this could work.”

“Well, why wouldn’t it? If Aubrey was getting married in, like, Fiji and you couldn’t afford to go, you’d send her something off her registry, right? That’s what you just said.”

“I would never miss Aubrey’s wedding,” Chloe said earnestly. “She’s my best friend. And she wouldn’t miss mine, either.”

“Okaaaaaay,” Beca drawled. “So we don’t invite our current friends. Or immediate family. Cousins, old coworkers, and friends from high school.”

“Can I invite Mrs. Higgins, my 8th grade choir teacher? She was my favorite teacher.”

“Yeah, I mean as long as she won’t try to show up—wait. You’d actually do this?”

“You’ve had worse ideas.”

“Have I though?” Beca shook her head. “This is dumb. Forget it.” She put away her computer and rolled out of bed. “I’m going to Target if you need anything. I’m out of conditioner.”

“I don’t think I do, but I’ll come with you.”

~ ~ ~

When Beca came home from work late on Monday, Chloe was laying in bed, laptop propped on her thighs. She was intently focused on whatever it was she was doing and didn’t look up at Beca’s entrance.

“Hey, weirdo,” Beca said as she kicked out of her shoes and pulled her own computer out of her bag to toss it onto the bed while she changed into comfy lounging clothes. “What are you doing?”

Chloe ignored her for a few more seconds before tapping the trackpad with particularly notable resolution and sitting up. “Hey!”

“Yeah, hey,” Beca laughed. “Seriously, what are you doing? Caught up in an intense Pinterest spiral?”

Chloe shook her head. “Come here; I want to show you something.”

“Is this going to be puppies or something dirty?” Beca knelt on their bed and walked her way up until she was sitting next to Chloe. There was no telling what Chloe had up her sleeve whenever she told Beca she wanted to show her something.

“Neither. Look.” She turned her screen toward Beca.

“What am I looking at?” she asked after a few seconds. “Because that looks like a wedding invitation with our names on it.”

“That’s what it is.”

She looked at the invitation on Chloe’s screen again and then looked at her. Chloe was biting her lip and almost buzzing with excitement. “And why is that a thing that exists?”

“I made it!”

Beca rolled her eyes. “And why did you make it?”

“We need invitations if we’re going to invite people to our wedding.”

“That idea was terrible! I told you to forget it; how much time did you spend on this?” She grabbed the computer away from Chloe so she could zoom in on it. The stationery had been painted with watercolors. It was quite pretty and one Beca wouldn’t be opposed to choosing for her actual wedding.

“A couple hours. I went with a silver and sage palette. I don’t think we’re a couple who has pink in their wedding.”

“Yeah, no,” Beca said, only half-listening because her brain was pretty hung up at the moment seeing the words ‘The Wedding of Beca and Chloe’ in script. “No pink.”

“I just put Fiji because you mentioned it yesterday but we can pick something else. And a date. Oh, and we’re registered at Amazon and IKEA.”

Picking a wedding locale and date with Chloe? Sure. Cool. “Wait. You already registered us?”

“Well, no, not yet,” Chloe scoffed as if Beca’s question was absurd. “That’s what’s on the registry cards that go with the invitations. We need to make our registries together next weekend.”

“I’m not sure if I should be concerned or proud that you’re so willing to go along with my terrible idea.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Chloe said with a shrug.

Beca was pretty sure a lot of bad things could happen like someone showing up to a non-existent wedding. Then again, all they’d really have to do is apologize and explain that the wedding was called off last-minute and point out their would-be guests would now have a vacation in Fiji without wedding activities to inconvenience them.

“Several things come to mind,” she said as she returned the computer.

Chloe elbowed her. “Okay. We need this to be far enough in advance that it doesn’t feel shotgun, but not too far that everyone can rearrange their schedules for it.”

“So it’s like I forgot to send out the invitations like I said I would and you found them in a box two months after they were supposed to have gone out?”

Chloe looked at her, holding her gaze. “That sounds exactly like something you would do.”

“And we should have it on, like, a Wednesday so it’s super inconvenient. With no holidays around it that people can use to save vacation days.”

“I feel like you’re a secret evil genius,” Chloe said as she flipped through the calendar on her computer. “How about October 2?”

“Perfect.”

They then spent more than an hour Googling Fiji and wedding location options. It took so long because they kept bickering about the venues; Chloe loved one but Beca hated it. Then Beca loved one and Chloe hated it. Every fifteen minutes or so, one of them would remind the other this was all fake and it didn’t matter, and the other would argue that it still had to seem real. They’d finally settled on a resort located on the edge of a rainforest that had more than enough amenities for a destination wedding.

“Well?” Chloe asked when she finished entering the details on the invitation. “Good?”

Beca stared at the screen and what they’d created inviting recipients to their wedding. It made her a little queasy so she swallowed hard. “Perfect.”

They ordered a set of one hundred invitations, response cards, registry cards, and envelopes for it all and agreed to split the expense equally.

“Did we seriously just do that?” Beca asked as she put away her credit card. “That shit is nonrefundable. We just burned five hundred dollars.”

“Think of it as a down payment on my new dinette set.”

“Your new dinette? Pretty sure that’s going to be ours, babe.”

Chloe cocked an eyebrow at her. “Babe?”

Beca blushed. “Wedding fever. Shut up.”

“You’re adorable,” Chloe said with a laugh as she grabbed Beca by the chin to give her a shake. “Careful, or I might marry you for real.”

She blushed even harder, her heart getting lodged in her throat. “Yeah, right, dude.”

“We’ll see,” Chloe said with a wink before hopping off the bed to leave Beca behind, heart still pounding. “It’s my turn to make dinner. What do you want?”

~~~

“How many names do you have so far?” Chloe asked from her lounging spot lying backward on their bed, feet rocking back and forth next to Beca.

Beca looked at the spreadsheet on her computer; she hated spreadsheets. Loathed them. But Chloe created one for their wedding invitation list so she could have Staples print the addresses on the envelopes once they arrived. Had they planned ahead like actual would-be brides, they’d have had the list ready to import when they ordered the invitations to let the printer do that. But alas. “Thirty-six. It’s hard to figure out who makes sense to invite to my wedding but wouldn’t actually come.”

“If you can get to forty, I can make up the difference.”

“I should invite the CEO of BFD; it’s not like he’d ever come. I’ve never even met him. He’d probably pick one of the expensive gifts, too.”

Chloe sat up quickly and Beca tried not to think about how strong her abs must be to do that. “Beca.”

“What?”

“You’re a genius.” She sat forward so suddenly Beca had a fleeting [stupid] thought that Chloe was about to kiss her but all she did was turn around to sit next to her and look at the list on Beca’s screen. “But don’t add him; I don’t want to put your career at risk. Put your douche boss from Residual Heat instead; there’s no way he’d come.”

“O...kay,” Beca said as she typed his name. She’d have to look up her old studio’s mailing address later. “But why am I a genius?”

“We can invite a handful of CEOs and tech bigwigs who won’t know whether or not we work for them. We send it to their office and their assistant will just buy something off our registry without bothering to look us up.”

“Should I be concerned that your mind is this twisted?” Beca asked as Chloe commandeered her laptop to open Google and start searching.

“Did you forget this was your idea to begin with?”

She watched Chloe pull up the address for the headquarters of Apple. “A little ambitious, don’t you think?”

“Are you kidding? The bigger the company the bigger the chance we get a ‘declines with regret’ and you get that Ableton Push you think I didn’t see you add to our Amazon registry.”

Beca grumbled under her breath to hide her guilt. She’d gotten a little click-happy the other night after a couple beers and added a few non-traditional items to their list like high-end mixing equipment and the new Xbox.

“I’m just going to pick ten companies from the Forbes 500. Let’s see what happens. And now you don’t have to come up with the rest of your list!”

“Sounds great,” she said with a tight-lipped smile.

Something in her gut was telling her they were taking this much too far. But that new Ableton was so, so pretty…

~~~

“Becs, honey,” Chloe said when Beca opened the door to head to work.

Beca turned, patting herself down to make sure she had her keys and phone. “What’s up?”

“Don’t forget to mail the invitations.” She smiled at Beca and pointed at the shoe box on the table containing their pretty little scams. Amy had stuffed the envelopes for them last night and was naturally agreeable to their little business venture. They’d obliged her request to add an absurd inflatable bounce house to their list as payment for her help as long as she promised to never try to set it up in the apartment.

Beca was pretty sure Amy had her fingers crossed behind her back when she agreed.

She picked it up and rapped her fingernails on it. “Are you sure we should do this? I feel kind of guilty.”

“We got our list down to eighty-nine people we barely know—or don’t know at all. It’s going to be fine. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, okay,” Beca said with a nod, though being told not to worry didn’t magically erase her concerns. “You’re right. I’ll see you after work. It’s my turn to cook, so text me what you want and I’ll pick it up on my way home.”

“I’m totes going to be the one who actually cooks in this marriage, aren’t I?”

“Trust me; it’s for the best. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, sweetie!”

~~~

Beca dropped the stack of thick, fancy envelopes into the outgoing mail drop on the corner by her subway stop on her way to work, and that was it.

The deed was done.

~ ~ ~

Three days later...

When Beca came home from work she found Chloe at the table but she wasn’t sipping her usual tea and wearing a smile at Beca’s return.

Instead, she was visibly nervous, her arms crossed and eyes fixed on her untouched tea.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Beca asked and moved to sit across from her. “Are you okay?”

“Promise you won’t get mad?” Chloe said in a small voice, eyes refusing to meet Beca’s.

“It’s hard to promise that when I don’t know what’s wrong, but I’ll try. What’s going on?”

Chloe closed her eyes and sighed. “My parents got one of our invitations.”

“What?!” Beca almost launched from her chair; she gripped the edge of the table to stay put and she saw Chloe flinch at her outburst. She tried to lower voice when she demanded, “How?”

“I checked the spreadsheet because I know I didn’t put them on it.” She sounded on the verge of tears. “But it looks like it got corrupted, like it combined with my Christmas card list.”

Beca’s blood ran cold. “My dad’s on your Christmas card list, too.” She’d barely finished the sentence when her phone started ringing in her pocket. She could hear Chloe’s text alerts almost non-stop from where her phone sat on her bedside table. “Who else ended up on the list?”

Chloe closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Beca pulled her phone from her pocket; she already knew. She didn’t even bother looking at the screen as she swiped the screen to answer it. “Hey, Dad.”

“You and Chloe are getting married?!” he crowed into the phone. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner? Oh, Beca I’m so happy for you both; you’re perfect together!”

“We’re not—wait.” She straightened. “Huh?”

“I knew it was only a matter of time.”

She looked at Chloe across the table who was oblivious to what her father was saying. She seemed to assume it to be terrible the way she was hiding half her face behind her hand. She looked miserable.

“Yeah…” Beca replied. She felt bad; this was all her doing and now Chloe’s going to be humiliated having to tell everyone in her life that she tried to do something dumb. Or that her fake relationship failed. And all her cousins were getting married… “We’re...really happy.”

Chloe’s hand fell and her eyes went wide. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

“And I’m so happy for you. The date is going to be tough for me to get away in the middle of the semester, but there’s no way I’m going to miss my little girl’s big day. Is there a block of rooms reserved for guests? Should I just give your name when I call?”

“Um, no. Sorry. We...we splurged on the trip so we couldn’t lock down rooms for everyone.”

“Don’t you worry; I’ll take care of the rooms. It’s the least I can do. I’ll call the resort and give them my information.” It was Beca’s turn to cover her eyes. “Thanks, Dad. That’s so generous.”

“Anything for you and my soon-to-be daughter-in-law.”

“Thanks. Listen, I just got home and Chloe and I have a lot to talk about. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Sure, pumpkin.”

Beca ended the call and set down her phone with a long exhale. “Shit.”

“What happened?” Chloe asked sounding as sheepish as she did excited.

“He’s...going to pay for everyone’s rooms at the resort for our wedding.”

Chloe blinked hard and sat back. “What?”

“He thinks we’re perfect together. And he wasn’t surprised at all. Well, he was surprised by the wedding. Not about us being together.” Which we’re not. “What did your parents say?”

Chloe cleared her throat. “They offered to pay for the rehearsal dinner and the reception.”

“What?” Beca said with a barked laugh.

“They’re over the moon for us. Asked what took us so long.” She looked like she wanted to disappear into her chair, which was a unique state for Chloe to be in.

“But you didn’t tell them it’s fake.”

“Did you tell your dad it’s fake?” Chloe countered. “No, you didn’t. You just went along with it.”

Beca sank into her chair, too. “And now our parents are ecstatic we’re getting married.” There was a lot to unpack with that fact and all that came with it. Chloe’s texts were still chiming and a minute later, Beca’s started up, too. “Seriously, who else got invited?”

With a sigh, Chloe slid a piece of paper across the table. Printed on it was a spreadsheet set up just like what they’d made to send to Staples, except it was a mish-mash of their distant cousins, millionaire executives, and people they actually knew. Their parents. The owner of the vet clinic Chloe was interning at.

Aubrey, Emily, and the rest of the Bellas.

“Oh, my God, how did this happen?” Beca said with a groan as she crumpled the paper and tossed it toward the trash can. (She missed.)

“I told you: I don’t know! All I can think is that my files were named List1 and List2 and somehow they got combined or maybe I didn’t delete everything from one of them before I saved it.” She reached across the table and grabbed Beca’s hands. “Beca, I’m so, so sorry. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll let everyone know it was just a prank gone wrong.”

Beca was about to agree when she remembered how excited her father sounded. “Your parents were really happy?”

Chloe managed a sad laugh; she still looked on the verge of tears and Beca couldn’t blame her. She felt like she might cry herself. “My mom said she was starting to get worried you were never going to propose.”

“Oh, my God,” Beca said, blushing hard. “She didn’t even know that we were dating. Or, that we weren’t dating. Whatever. What did you say?”

“I told her I asked you.”

“You proposed to me?!” Beca scoffed. “As if you would! I would totally ask you to marry me before you even had a chance!”

Chloe blinked at her, her worry and sadness starting to fade into a soft smile. “You would?”

Beca realized what she’d said and shook her head. “Nevermind. I should have looked at the envelopes before I dropped them off.”

“You didn’t have a reason to. This isn’t your fault.”

“Except that it was all my idea?” Beca said with a crooked smile. “You’d think Amy would have realized they were wrong when she was stuffing them. She knew the plan.”

Chloe sighed and let go of Beca’s hands to run her own through her hair. “Something tells me she knew they got messed up.”

“Why would you think that?”

Chloe shot her a look.

“Because it’s Amy. Right.” She sighed, too. “I need a drink.” Beca stood up and headed for the fridge, the top of which held their liquor collection. “What do you want?”

“Whiskey, neat,” Chloe answered as she pushed aside her tea.

“Yeah. Me, too.”

~~~

They waited until they were both two whiskeys in before they agreed to get on Skype with Aubrey.

“This is how you tell me you two are a thing?” Aubrey said as she waved the invitation in front of her camera. “A little warning would have been nice.”

“It all happened so fast, Bree,” Chloe said. “I guess living together in such close quarters...well, it brought some things to light.”

It was so convincing that Beca almost believed her. Except she didn’t know why they were lying to Aubrey. Not wanting to immediately disappoint their excited parents was one thing, but going along with it with Aubrey… She nudged Chloe from her spot next to her where they sat closely in bed so they could both be mostly in frame and threw her a look she hoped read, What the hell are you doing?

Chloe just winked at her and slipped her arm behind her to wrap around her waist and pull her closer.

“Well, as disappointed as I am that you didn’t think to tell me, I’m thrilled for you both.”

“You are?” Beca scoffed.

“Why wouldn’t I be? You two are good for each other. And I know you’ll take care of my best friend.”

Beca had to fight hard to not blush. “Yeah. Well...that’s the plan.”

“So, Fiji? I’ve always wanted to go! Do you have a wedding planner? And Chloe, I can’t believe you haven’t asked me to be your Maid of Honor yet! We made a pact!”

Chloe cleared her throat. “Right! I was getting to that! I’d love it if you’d be my Maid of Honor.”

“What are you doing?” Beca muttered from the side of her mouth.

“Asking my bestie to be in our wedding,” Chloe muttered in return.

“I’d be honored!” Aubrey said with a bright grin. “Now you have to let me take over the planning. You can’t do this all by yourselves. Put me in touch with your contact at the resort and I’ll take it over. What have you arranged so far?”

“Well, we could barely get the invitations out without trouble…” Chloe started and Beca elbowed her. “So we haven’t really had a chance to get going yet. We haven’t even put down the deposit to reserve the space yet—”

“Don’t say another word,” Aubrey said with her hand up. “I’m going to take care of that as my gift to you both.”

“Thanks, Bree. That means so much.” Chloe grasped Beca’s hand and pulled it up to kiss it.

Beca just stared at her in shock.

“Right, Becs?”

“Uh, yeah. Right. Thanks, Aubrey,” Beca offered. “We gotta go, though,” she added, desperate to end the torture.

“Okay. Remember to send me that info and I’ll send you the confirmations once I get it taken care of this week.”

“Totes. I’ll text you later.”

“Perfect. Have a good night, you two!”

“Bye!” Chloe chirped and Beca offered a weak wave as Chloe disconnected the call.

“Oh, my God, Chloe, we can’t keep this up!” she said as soon as the screen was blank. “What are we doing?!”

“Everyone’s so excited for us; I don’t want to disappoint them.” Chloe turned a little to look at her and she was so close Beca could see the different specks of light and dark in Chloe’s eyes. “We’ll tell them soon.”

“Aubrey’s going to spend money on this. We can’t let her do that.”

“I’ll wait a few days to send her the info and then we’ll just tell it’s off.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

~~~

Not two hours had passed when both their phones chimed with a group text from Aubrey to the two of them. Chloe was taking a bath when it came in so Beca opened it and read it aloud so she could hear it.

“Was too excited! Looked up the resort info and got it booked. Oh, my God. They said they didn’t have any record of your interest—gee, I wonder why—and the day was already booked for some corporate retreat but I got them to move it for the wedding. Of course she did. Good thing you let me take care of it! You might not have had a venue. Damn it, Chloe!”

“Well, it’s not my fault!”

“Then whose fault is it?!”

Nothing but silence followed from behind the shower curtain.

(Chapter 2)

#bechloe #fdau #fake dating au #WITH A TWIST #fanfic #fade into you

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lobsters-on-their-heads · 7 years ago

Text

Continuing Travels of Cophine, Ch. 8

Hey, look, I finally posted something. Entire work still lives here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13525500?view_full_work=true

And of course, I always love good feedback.

*1 week before Clone Fest*

Frigid wind blew trash against the window of Fung's Diner while Sarah and Art met for their weekly lunch. Art had started giving her little mental challenges, based on past cases of his, and sometimes she enjoyed it, but today she just shook her head.

“Okay,” he said, “you gotta tell me what's on your mind, then.”

She pushed her eyebrows up with her fingers and tried to avoid the quasi-command for a minute or so before giving in. “Mostly just the usual bullshit. And Alison wants me to help plan this Clone Fest thing she's got coming up.”

“Clone Fest?!”

“Yeah. It's like, to celebrate all of our birthdays, or whatever, sort of between all the actual birthdays. It's next week.”

“Oh, that'll be nice. Yeah, Beth's birthday is... was right around this time, now that I think about it.” He chuckled, but shook his head. “April Fools Day. We used to laugh about that.”

She put her hand on his forearm. “Hey. It's still her birthday, right? And we're gonna try to do something to celebrate her, something special just for her, plus the party for all the rest of us weirdos. The party's the bitch, though. It's just...” She put the heels of both hands to her forehead, a gesture she'd picked up from Cosima some time ago, and shook her head. “It's just I have no idea what do.”

“What do you mean?”

“For, like, activities and shit. Alison wants to me to come up with 'fun activities' for everyone, and all I can think of doing is going to a club and getting drunk and high and shitfaced in every possible way until you can't remember who you even are any more. That's been just about every birthday party I've ever been to. Well, birthday party for adults, that is. Been going to more kids' parties these days, haven't I?”

Art smiled. “I dunno, Gemma's indoor pool party a couple months ago sounded like a blast. Maybe that's just more my speed these days.”

She took a bite of her BLT and considered that. “Okay, so we can get shitfaced at an indoor pool instead.”

He got that serious look on his face again. “No. Please don't. Sarah...”

“Hey, glow sticks look pretty cool underwater, you gotta admit.”

“Who else is gonna be there, other than the sisters?”

“Fucking, like, everybody, I guess? Cos and Delphine are flying in from wherever the fuck they are, and Scott's taking time off work to be there. Alison and Donnie and Helena, of course. Fe, naturally. You, hopefully. Not the kids, though. Alison's found a sitter to watch them for the evening.”

“What about Colin?”

She rolled her eyes and ate more of her sandwich.

“Uh oh.”

“If you really wanna know, ask Fe. There's some drama, but he's not telling me about it.”

“Well, even if he does come, I don't think he's got a lot of lifeguarding experience, so it answers my real question either way – who's gonna save your ass when one of you falls into the deep end tripping balls so hard you think that you actually fell up?”

“Cosima said she was a lifeguard in college.”

“In college.” When Sarah gave him a So What look, he clarified, “That means more than 10 years ago, and I'm guessing she hasn't been keeping her license up-to-date.”

When she didn't respond right away, he ate quietly and watched people ducking their heads against the wind outside. She knew what he was thinking, and she wanted to slap him for it.

“Look, we can enjoy ourselves for one bloody night, okay?”

“I'm not saying you can't.”

“You're doing everything but.” She stole one of the olives from his salad and mentally dared his forehead furrows to deepen. “Cosima and Delphine have been off saving our sisters' lives in, like, the shittiest places on the planet, so the least we can do is have a decent party for them. And for me and Alison and Helena, too, of course, 'cause our lives haven't been total picnics, but mostly for them.”

“That's funny,” he said, “I got a postcard from them with a picture of a real fancy resort on it. Said they were having a blast.”

“Yeah, I got that one, too, about a week after one that showed the earth splitting open and spewing fire. They move around a lot, yeah? Point is, it's everyone's birthday celebration, including Cosima's, and hell, including mine! You're not supposed to be responsible at a birthday party, Art!”

He made his “okey-dokey-then” face and cleaned the salad dressing from his chin. “Just don't count on me being there if there's anything other than alcohol involved. And I mean anything.”

** The morning of Clone Fest **

Cosima and Delphine both woke early, their bodies still wired to Middle East time. The weather report showed unseasonably warm temperatures, with highs around 18C and clear skies. After checking the weather report, Cosima dropped the phone next to her pillow and contemplated the day ahead. They were having lunch at Sarah's, followed by relaxed family time and then “something super fun” that evening.

“We should go to the market,” Delphine said, rolling over so that her nose almost touched Cosima's cheek. “The one in the park, you know? With all the sellers with vegetables and fruits. I know they might not have much this time of year, but someone will have eggs, I think.”

The mental image of Delphine casually perusing market stalls, in, like, a straw hat and a peasant skirt and carrying a straw basket made Cosima grin. “You wanna go to the farmer's market to get eggs?”

“Yes.” She kissed Cosima's chin and angled her torso above hers. “And anything else that looks good.”

She played with Delphine's fingers, splayed out next to her face, and smiled. “Can I get you, then?”

“Mmmm.... maybe.” There was another kiss, and Delphine threw back the covers, making Cosima yelp. “We'll see.” And with a smile, she sauntered off to the bathroom while Cosima scrambled to cover herself back up.

It was still chilly when they left at 7:30 in hats and scarves, but the sunlight kissing the buildings and the edges of the still-bare branches hinted at the warmer temperatures ahead. Cosima would have sucked up the chill and walked, but a city bus lumbered up as they neared a stop, so they got on and rode the mile or so to the park, where the market atmosphere was in full swing. At the entrance, they got coffee and home-baked muffins from a stall supporting the local children's orchestra, while a bluegrass duo played guitar and fiddle.

“Hang on,” Cosima said as they passed. “Are they playing Wagon Wheel?”

“What?”

She listened more closely, picking through years of memories for the tune. Then the fiddle picked up again, sawing at the chords, and she nodded. “Yup. It's definitely Wagon Wheel. Haven't heard this song since... well, let's just say it's been a while. Only words I remember is where they sing about having a nice long toke.”

“Ah. That's why you remember it. Maybe you can play it for me sometime.”

“Maybe.” She rubbed her shoulder against Delphine's as they made their way through the already crowded pathways between stalls. The muffin was good, if a little light on the blueberries, and the coffee warmed her hands and insides. “If you come out to California with me, I'm sure one of my uncles or cousins will play it on the guitar and we'll all sing along while we're drunk or high. Or both.”

They ducked into a stall selling leafy greens and inspected the wares, and Delphine asked, “If? Is it in question whether I'll go to California with you some day?”

Cosima balanced her half-eaten muffin on her coffee lid and set them on the counter. “No. I hope not.”

“Then why if?”

“I dunno...” She bagged a few handfuls of mesclun greens, tied the bags, and did the same with some kale. “It just doesn't seem that, like, certain, I guess.” Way to be articulate, Niehaus, she thought. The funk she'd been in a few days prior had dissipated with the family meals and the vigorous fuckings, but now it lurked at the edge of her mind again.

“No?”

And then Delphine was rubbing her back, and it was almost okay, but a young woman nearby scolded her child in Arabic, and Cosima remembered they were going to Baghdad in three days.

“It's fine.” She tilted her head to kiss Delphine, and turned back to the counter to pay for the greens.

They took their time exploring the market, sampling mushrooms and honey and pickled everything, and also buying three dozen eggs, a log of goat cheese, a pack of crème fraiche, fresh dill from the same greenhouse the leafy greens came from, carrots, chopped walnuts, and various snacks to take along. By the time they reached the end of the line of stalls and sat down to snack, the sun had risen and they needed to remove their hats and scarves.

Looking out at the park stretched out in front of them, distant high-rises visible over the treetops, Cosima rested her head on Delphine's shoulder. “It's a nice place.”

“Mhm,” Delphine agreed around a mouthful of apricot.

“D'you remember that day we were gonna have a picnic out here...”

“The day it rained?”

“No, the other time.”

“The day you were pissed at me?”

“Was it... wait. Which day that I was pissed at you?” Cosima paused and thought back. She'd been thinking of the plans they'd made, to bring blankets and some hot spiced wine out here, to listen to the drummers and snuggle up together in public. And then they hadn't done that, because...

“You don't remember? The day you learned that that dental pulp came from Kira's tooth.”

“Was that the same day? Maybe. I remember them as two completely separate events.”

“It was the same day. I'd already set my schedule to leave early, but then you overheard me talking to Scott, and...”

“And the rest is history.”

People with dogs and baby strollers passed, less densely here than at other parts. A distant off-key trumpet player honked out “When the Saints Come Marching In,” and the combined smells of grilled meat, popcorn, and weed made the park smell like a fairground.

“We could get married here.”

Delphine had her coffee cup halfway to her mouth, but she set it down again at that. “As a replacement picnic, perhaps?”

“If you wanna think of it that way. We did tell everyone we'd get married in Toronto, didn't we?”

“Yes, we did. I don't think either of us will want to jaunt off anywhere for a destination wedding.”

Cosima's laugh slid into a groan, and she covered her eyes. “I am trying so hard not to think about jaunting off anywhere right now. Today was supposed to be my day off from jaunting.”

“Ooh, pauvre petit chiot...” Delphine rubbed her shoulder and nuzzled her hair. “I'm sorry that I brought it up.”

“Eh, it's whatever. What do you think, though? Of getting married here? We don't need to decide right now, obviously.”

“Obviously. I think it's nice, as long as it doesn't rain.”

“We can have a backup for rain.”

Delphine giggled. “Like one of those giant circus tents?”

“Exactly like one of those. Oh, and there could be streamers that are, like, DNA-shaped coming down from the top.”

“Mmm, maybe. What else would there be?”

“DNA symbols on the cake, obviously.”

“A DNA cake, maybe?”

“Oooh, that's a good idea.”

They finished off their snacks, and just as they were about to rise, a loud boBOOP emanated from Delphine's purse, making them both pause. While Delphine fished around for the clone business phone, it gave off two more boBOOPs in rapid succession, and Cosima's heart picked up its pace. Maybe it was Özlem, and Cosima's suspicions about the coughing were correct. Or maybe it was someone with some information about Malika, finally. Or maybe it was just some doctor, confirming an appointment in Baghdad or Tehran or wherever.

Delphine unlocked the screen and frowned, then smiled. “Look.”

Leaning over, Cosima saw a picture, likely taken by a webcam, of three children – Fatima, Nabil, and Mohammed Al Numery, the oldest of the Yemeni orphans they'd met in Djibouti. In the picture, only Fatima looked directly at the camera, large dark eyes serious under her headscarf while the boys poked each other from each side of her. With a swipe, Delphine revealed the second photo. The boys smiled here, but Fatima did not.

“They are such good kids,” Cosima said.

“They sent a message, too.”

hello dr delphine cormier it began. we are nabl Fatima and Mhmmd in DJIBOUTI CITY DJIBOUTI please you help aunt nooran sister we say hello ehllo

“Oh my god that is so cute.” Cosima wondered if they'd sent it from one of the internet cafés in the city, or if they'd made a friend with a laptop. She wondered if Nooran had told them how much she wanted Cosima and Delphine to take the children away with them.

“We should write back,” Delphine said. “But with what?”

Cosima took the phone from her and turned it to landscape position. “Easy. Smile.”

They strolled down a residential street on their way back from the market, Cosima's arm around Delphine's waist and Delphine's arm around Cosima's shoulders, each of them with bags of goodies slung over their shoulders.

Several blocks away from the park, in an upscale but cozy neighborhood, they saw a house with at least ten balloons dancing in the wind around a multicolored OPEN HOUSE sign. A woman in a burgundy pant suit waved as they approached. “Open house today, ladies! Wanna come take a look around?”

“Eh...” said Delphine, but Cosima stopped and looked up at it. She was fuzzy on architectural terms, but she put the facade around early 1900s, with dark stately brick and those bump-out windows that give the inhabitants a nice cross breeze in the summer. It was three stories, including an English basement, and there was a tiny garden out front with some brave little daffodils poking up.

“We're not in the market, actually,” Delphine said.

“Oh, that's fine!” the agent assured them. “You can still come in and take a look around, get some ideas for when you are in the market one day. Are you two from around here?”

They exchanged a glance. “Not exactly,” Cosima said.

“Well, I see you've done some shopping! We do have a really nice kitchen inside, I have to say. Newly renovated! Come on in! There's free coffee!”

It was such a tacky sales pitch, but another couple walked out of the house and gave them a view of a spacious entry way past a practical mudroom with rain boots set up as props. She looked up at Delphine. “What d'you think, babe? Take a look around real quick, grab some free coffee? It'll give us a chance to put these bags down for a minute.”

Delphine arched her eyebrows and looked down at her with those caramel brown eyes, and Cosima knew it wasn't practical, and that Delphine thought she was being silly, but she didn't care.

“Please?”

“Alright. If you really want to.”

The inside of the house was furnished by the real estate agency in a way that blended Rachel Duncan and Alison Hendrix, but the agent had been right about the kitchen – it was fantastic, although Cosima had to admit that her standards for kitchens had always been pretty low. There was an island with a granite countertop, plenty of cabinet space, and a gas stove. It was easy to imagine having the nieces and nephews over for a weekend and making pancakes for them in this kitchen, or cooking up a romantic dinner with Delphine on a Friday night. A window over the sink and a half-glass door beside the cabinets looked out on a spacious fenced-in backyard where two black-haired little girls ran around with balloons. Cosima thought of the pictures they'd just seen, and imagined Fatima finally being able to relax and run around with her siblings in a yard like this.

“You guys been upstairs yet?”

Cosima turned to see a paunchy man in khakis addressing her and Delphine. “Uh, no,” she said.

“You should check out the balcony. That about sold this place for me, honestly.”

Cosima wasn't sure what to say to that, but Delphine suggested that he put an offer on the house if he liked it so much, and the woman he was with groaned. That set off an argument between the two of them, and Cosima and Delphine scooted away up the stairs.

Upstairs, Delphine wandered into the smaller hall bathroom while Cosima explored the master bedroom. She could see what the guy downstairs had meant. French doors opened onto a balcony large enough to comfortably host ten people. She walked out, ran her fingers over the stained wooden railing, and then rested her forearms on it to look out on the backyard.

The realtor wasn't lying when she said “great backyard,” either. If anything, it was an understatement; the yard was easily three or four times the size of the Hendrix's backyard. The realtor's voice drifted up from below. “Oh, there's definitely room for a swing set! Swing set, sandbox, fire pit, you name it!”

There were maple trees out there, too, with tiny buds giving them a fuzzy appearance. They were just about large enough to string a hammock up between them, but if that didn't work, they could always put a bench beneath them, and sit out in the shade on warm days. They could have cook-outs with the family, or just sit out there together with drinks, just the two of them. She could come home and find Delphine on that sofa downstairs, or in the kitchen making fancy cuisine look effortless. Sometimes she would get home first, and Delphine would come home from work to find Cosima making Kraft dinner or doing a smelly pet science project out on this balcony.

“Hey.” Delphine came up and rubbed her shoulders. “What are you thinking about?”

She smiled over at her, loving the sight of Delphine on this balcony, in her comfy sweater and multi-pocket pants. “Just stupid shit.”

“Ah.” Delphine watched her for a moment. “We can't buy it. You know that.”

Fucking hell... Cosima laughed. “I know that!”

“Okay, just checking. You have that far away look on your face, though.”

“I do not.”

“You most definitely do.” Delphine scooted over to tuck herself beside Cosima, and nuzzled the top of her head. “One more year, if that, chérie, and then we can stay. Not in this house, of course! But we can stay here. Or wherever you want. Back in Minnesota, or California, wherever.”

“I know.”

“We really should be going, though. People are waiting for us, and we have perishables.”

Cosima giggled. “Yeah. Maybe I just like hearing you say perishables.”

On the way to Sarah's house, they passed hundred-year-old maples and oak trees in yards and parks, brown front lawns that would turn verdant in a few months, and all manner of people getting an early start on their weekend. At one corner house, while Cosima and Delphine waited for the light to let them cross, a man and woman looked up at the roof of their house.

“Earliest the contractors can come out is next week,” the woman told the man.

They didn't stay at the corner long enough to find out what the contractors would be coming out for, but all Cosima could think of was We're not even going to be on this continent next week.

She didn't even want a house. They were too much work, with the lawn upkeep and the plumbing and the pest control and making sure the roof didn't cave in. Her parents always said their boat was easier to maintain than any of their houses had been. She didn't want a house.

Once Sarah's house was in view, Cosima's steps slowed. Her sisters were there, and her niece, and she felt as comfortable there as anywhere else, but it wasn't home.

“You okay?” Delphine asked.

And Delphine was several feet in front of her, checking on her, making sure she was okay, knowing her moods before Cosima herself knew them.

��Yeah,” she said, jaunting across the short distance to kiss her lips. “I'm okay.”

#my fic #continuing travels of cophine

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hyungkyun · 7 years ago

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(^:

HENLO!!! this is ur actual bday present, not that Gross thing i sent earlier lol. again, do whatever u want with it!! u dont have to post it or anything. it’s just easier to submit stuff like this than to, idk, send u an email like a señora lol.

ok so im doing this in bullet point format bc the last time I wrote a coherent, well-written paragraph was like 5 years ago or smth. anyway!! since u hated soooo much my beautiful, amazing, unique goths au im going with the loser couple au… which was also a college au of sorts?? dskjhksjdf this isn’t even an au, since y’all are already losers tbh (^: this also got out of hand…. this shit is eight pages long. idk enjoy bithc.

first of all, ck the kind of dude everyone’s lowkey scared of bc he’s silent and serious af. also he does seem kind of a weirdo, tbh?

youve seen him around, maybe you’re in the same dorms but u have absolutely no idea what he’s majoring in :o and u ask around but no one has any idea either!! oh wow a mystery~~

BUT he’s kinda cute hmmm (^: and u probably find the weirdo vibe interesting

however it’s so hard to get to talk to him. u always run into him when you’re out with friends or in a hurry to get to class so :///

but destiny works in mysterious ways~~~ and once u meet it’s rly. so unexpected.

actually, it’s awful since u get locked out of ur dorm sound familiar?? during winter break, rly late at night after a long study session at the library yes, the library, fight me. so u kinda just. sit down miserably outside ur room, since ur roommates are gone, cursing everything and everyone. u will eventually go looking for someone to help u out or smth but right now u need to Whine.

but oh my!! enter mister im changkyun!!! that weirdo who actually lives a couple of doors away from u (how come you never found out wtf???)

he sees u basking in ur misery and actually. finds u rly cute??? bc you’re pouting, cursing a little under ur breath, fumbling with ur phone. but u also look angry as fuck, ready to kill a man??? and yet you’re really fucking cute what the hell!!!!

so he comes up to u and asks u what’s wrong, to which u answer not so nicely without even looking up from ur phone, bc you’re rly so done with this situation ://

but then u look up and u See who it is fuck fuck fuck fuckfucbicvufkhkcfj

but since ck’s Nice and he understands that u must be having an awful time (and also bc he thinks youre cute) he offers to help u. you’re kind of skeptical since he’s just another student, what could he do???

until he tells u he knows how to pick locks lmaoaoaoaoa. that lil weirdo (‘:

anyway he saves ur night. but since he’s an annoying lil shit he’ll tease u abt it every time he runs into u for the rest of winter break.

since that day y'all basiclly become an old, bickering, married couple fnsdjdj

u never stop annoying each other…. you’re wearing a hoodie? he’ll probably pull the hood all the way down until it covers ur eyes, and u get him back by messing up his hair which, by the way,is so soft….. hmmmm

u call each other nerd and loser and dumbass all the time lmao. he’ll constantly bring up the way u met just to jokingly say that you’d be lost without him :/// he rly is a lil shit.

it’s funny bc everyone figures out u are falling for each other… except u two. and i rly do mean everyone. ur friends. his friends. ur roommates. ur cat. the janitor, too, probably. it’s so obvious it hurts.

one time someone implies u would be a cute couple and y'all literally go all ‘no???? haha me??? liking that loser??? pfft not in a million years’

it’s the biggest lie, of course (: and ever since that person suggested u would look good together, both of u kind of realize it’d be… nice. more than nice. actually, super nice.

but since both of u are dumb tsunderes, as ive said before, u will literally be the embodiment of this scene… except it goes both ways. honestly u are so gone for each other it’s GROSS.

but we need some angst up in here so y'all dont get together for a reaaaaaaally long time :/ smh. the pining is Real. ppl come and go in ur lives, and each person u go out with sees that u already fell for someone else—and that’s why all potential relationships don’t last much–, but sdjkfhksjdhk!!! neither of u want to openly admit it.

it’s A Mess bc u are actually good friends and u tell each other abt ur dates and stuff—secretly hoping the other will do something—but y'all looove being dumb so u act like it’s all cool and be like ‘o rly!! good for u, i hope it works out’. right. :/

y’all keep dancing around each other for several months until one Merciful Soul gets tired of ur shit and forces u to sort things out. im talking abt locking u up in some room and not letting u out until u stop pretending u aren’t disgustingly in love with each other. or smthequally cheesy (: u know ilove cheese

((obviously everyone eavesdrops through the door bc cmon, theyve been waiting for this for sooooo long))

at first u two are just annoyed at the Merciful Soul betchait was minhyuk, and u spend ur time yelling and cursing them for doing this (all while claiming that this is pointless, since u have NO feelings for each other. none. nada!)

after a very long time, it’s ck the one that confesses first lmao. youve been whining and being grumpy the whole time youve been locked up together and it kinda reminded him of the way u met… damn. here come The Feelings.

he’s tired, and there’s nothing left to lose. so he tells u The Truth.

[suspenseful pause….. what’s going to happen next?? :OOOOO]……… tune in next year to find out, in the continuation of Cristina’s Cheesy Birthday Present!!!

jk, proceed to the next bullet point pls.

obviously u tell him u feel the same way [insert ppl crying in the background] and he’s actually shocked when u say u like him back…. and gosh, he does look cute when he’s surprised…

so yeah!!! it’s until then that u FINALLY go on a date during the weekend!!. hallelujah. thanks minhyuk,u beautiful soul.

so!!! ok!! first date!!! a rly cute fairground in the evening!!!

u try to be fake mean to each other like u used to but everything feels different~~~ (^:

so instead y’all act bashful as hell, and blush at everything jjdfghjfhd. hands brushing accidentally?? BLUSH. eyes meeting? BLUSH. BLUSH BLUSH BLUSH!!! u also laugh at everything bc both of u are so nervous oh gmhg fdknjjkdsfjoidf this is gross.

he’ll tell bad jokes to make u laugh and they’re rly so so so bad that he actually keeps u in stitches. if u look rly closely you’ll see his huge ass heart eyes bc !!!! he made u laugh!!!! and u look so pretty when u laugh omg!!!! dis-gos-tinnnnn

it’d be such a cute date tbh im crying just thinking abt it (‘’’’: obviously he’s a gentleman and he lets u choose what to eat, which ride to go to first, etc. u could literally tell him ‘hey let’s just sit down and do nothing’ and he’d say yes. he’s so gONe, ifmgfjdmf.

he’s kinda quiet and a lot shier than u wouldve expected but youre literally melting bc that’s a new side to him that you’d never thought you’d see.

u end up having so much fun (‘: u gross lil idiots, u.

oh and he’s def the type to ask if he can kiss u at the end of the night EYYYYYY

even if u find that incredibly endearing you’ll probably roll ur eyes with a huge ass smile on urlips lmaoaoaoao and call him a dummy for even asking when you’ve literally be in cloud nine since ur date started kjkhwjeqdkwjlk

[hello, brief break to clarify that from this point i forgot this was actually a college au lmao, so the rest of the bullet points are literally just. random facts abt u two dating hhhhhh. We dont even know what ck’s major is odjfngnfdj]

at first things are a lil awkward in ur relationship tbh

catch ck googling ‘how to relationship’ on a daily basis dnfndkfjdncn he is sort of clueless abt how to handle The Feelings. mostly bc this is Important and the last thing he wants is to mess it up )^:

that goes away eventually, tho!! he’ll start being his weird little self real fucking soon, so Get Ready

u still call each other nerd and all that stuff, but ur voices are dripping with fondness when u say it… literally everyone around u gets cavities from it, ew.

he’s not that big on planning dates but from time to time he’ll take u to rly cool, unexpected, interesting places :o and eventually he’ll show u his favorite secret spots ((’:

study dates are a thing. i bet he’s that type of person that enjoys reading in weird ass positions… his legs are like, halfway off the couch and his arm is bent in a way that looks almost painful… what the hell….?? but it’s fine (: it goes so well with ur study methods, those that are Too Weird for the library, yeah?? (:

he will also stare at u a lot bc u look cute when you’re rly focused on smth that is, when u stop whining abtstudying…

every time u catch him doing that you’ll go all ‘stop staring at me!!! wtf are u looking at u weirdo’ and he’ll answer ‘you’re so pretty~~~ ♥️♥️♥️’. you’ll blush like a lil idiot, naturally (^: hmmmm

and yea, yea. nap dates are a thing too :/// with sleepy forehead kisses and raspy voices and tangled limbs. all that sappy stuff. he’s a lil shit tho, so he’ll sometimes poke ur ribs to tickle u lmao.

buuuut he’ll also take a lot of pics of u sleeping bc he thinks youre cute )))): his faves always end up being his wallpaper for months.

he’ll get strange gifts for u, like rly bizarre plushies and rare books on topics he thinks u will like, tacky anime memorabilia, etc. he’ll always give them to u at random times bc he just saw them and reminded him of u ♥️

he makes a lot of playlists for u too!!! pls listen closely, he puts a lot more thought into them than he lets on.

u like his selfies??? well he’ll send u a lot of those. unfortunately, bc he’s a lil shit, he’ll mostly send double chins and weird ass faces from equally weird angles

from time to time he’ll send u a Nice One tho ((((^: and u know, tongue selfies since youreSO fond of his(and I quote) “5ft tongue”. and oh gosh! is that a tongue piercing…??? eyyyyyy

if u want to take couple selfies then you’re gonna have a real hard time bc he’ll always be making weird faces and poses just to be annoying. eventually u will make dumb faces too tho (’: what a couple of losers

expect weird random texts: he loves telling u abt whatever is on his mind—probably aliens. he thinks a lot abt aliens and the universe. throw some conspiracy theories in there, too—. he’ll also send obscure memes. and a lot of russian cats!!

he’ll love ur cosplay hobbie. he thinks it’s super cool. he’ll call u a nerd but don’t be fooled! he totally brags abt it with his friends (^:

oh! and this is unrelated but at some point y'all will look like an emo goth couple. u won’t even realize that you’re both wearing black and looking Edgy, it’ll just happen spontaneously. tragic 😔

there are a lot of comfortable silences when u hang out, but late night deep convos are also fundamental :o!!! bc y'all are Smort.

he’ll act like f*cboi from time to time tbh?? he’ll tell lots of dirty jokes LMAO. u roll ur eyes at him a lot bc they’re rly. so bad.

if he winks or does Eyebrow Things then u can’t rly roll ur eyes and act like you’re annoyed bc (: u like it (: and u think it suits him (: and he knows it (: (: (:

u get back at him by telling him he’s cute tho, and he’ll get all shy and he’ll stutter and saying “noooooo” while also fighting back a smile

he will also howl or bark at u to annoy u jdfhkjdf. damn f*rry ://

on that note, he loves to embarrass u in front of ur friends bc he’s a lil shit :DD

But he’s also the sweetest??? whenever he sees you’re feeling down he’ll start doing weird shit to make u laugh. if that doesn’t work then he’ll hug u real tight without saying anything else, bc that’s Enough, u know?? (’:

ok time to get Domestic lads!!!

Idk who the hell is going to cook bc y'all are a damn mess in the kitchen. u two try to cook Nice Meals sometimes. seven times out of ten u end up ordering takeout lmao.

be prepared: he sings in the shower, and he does so terribly. (he might do it a little louder and a little more off-key sometimes bc he knows it makes u laugh)

random kisses are a thing!!! he kisses ur cheek or ur shoulder or ur nape or literally. any body part he can get his lips on when u two are just hanging out, watching movies or smth. it’s so soft and cute )^: wtf im crying

but also stolen kisses!! he’ll kiss u at the most unexpected of times and it alwaysleaves u breathless

he’ll constantly put his head on ur shoulder and make this face at u (^:

can’t sleep??? don’t worry!!! he’ll sing to u with that pretty, soothing voice of his

anyway. what I meant is that y’all would be such cute little idiots together this was long af. wow. im so sorry. happy birthday??? lmao

I HAD TO PUT THIS UNDER A READ MORE BC ITS SO FUCKING LONG NAT U DUMBASS ICB U DID THIS KFJSKFJSLKDJFLKJ THIS IS SO CHEESY AND GROSS and it also made me realize that u know too much shit abt me. what was that t*ngue part. im not talking to u ever again. aNYWAY U RLY ARE AN IDIOT I WAS SMILING SO BIG THRU THIS WHOLE THING MAYBE I SCREAMED A LITTLE?????????? FUCK U!!!!!!!! WHATS WITH ‘The Feelings’ PART I HATE THAT I ALMOST DIED FUCK OFF IM NOT LIKE THIS!!!!!!! I DONT HAVE FEELINGS!!!!!! U CANT DO THIS TO ME SKJFHSKJDHFKSLDJFH

icb u rly did the fairground first date i rly fucking hate u why did i even tell u these things i knew it was gonna fire back im fjjgjkknknnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn ur ‘tragic 😔’ when we become a goth couple :/ u dont understand goth love

why the fuck did u make him howl. i wanna fucking die rn. what the fuck. he fucking would. fuck off.

i dont wanna talk abt all that domestic shit how did u even write all of that without dying i literally wanna rip all my limbs off i wont make any comment. i didnt need to know what that would be like but u looooove ruining my life so :)

i rly hate u ksdjfhskdjhfksjh icb u did this thank u i wanna die??????????? wtf nat !!!!! no but rly thank u :( u took the time to write this long ass college au (is it????? whats cks major tho rly :/ ) and just skdfjsjk u remembered all the weird shit i told u thats cute and also Really Bad what else do u know that i forgot i told u skdfksjh im literally always screaming at u abt this shit how did u !!! remember all of this!!!!! dldskfjshljhlakjsh this is so cute and horrible nat wtf how could u :( now im gonna cry :(

#SDFJSDJSLDJFHLSJDHJS URE AWFUL #but i love u sm what theu fuck u rly did all of this #sdjfksldjakjsdhlkajh u know how long it took me to even start reading it #i rly couldnt bc usually these aus are just cutesy and not so personal???#bUT I KNEW U WOULD RLY MAKE ME A LOSER ND IM JUST CRINGING #BC YEA THATS RLY WHAT ID DO SHUT THE FUCK UPSLDFJLSKDJ #i hate this. how the fuck am i supposed to go on with my life now :/#@at ck this could be literally us but u playing see u in london u better fucking step up ur game #idk what else to say this is incredible u rly are incredible #my baker bee #mutuals🌼#submission

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westcoastprancer · 3 years ago

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My Auto-Spaz-Ography

***WARNING - WAY TOO MUCH UNNECESSARY PROFANITY***

Getting past the only child bullshit...sue me I guess? Not my fault my parents could only handle one of me. Pretty annoying growing up hearing from morons that I must be a spoiled little shit...

Can’t really argue there. Aside from self-inflicted hunger (you know...that junior high self image bullshit..starve and lose 5 lbs in a weekend), I’ve never gone hungry. I’ve never been cold, without clothes, or a roof over my head. I was taught values. So yeah, I am fucking spoiled rotten. No apologies there.

People who continuously stay “stuck” royally piss me off. These weirdos are toxic. Avoid them at all costs. They will not change. You will thank me for this piece of advice sometime in your life. Everybody’s got a problem. So do I. Set goals for yourself. Get the fuck off your sad ass every couple weeks. Find your best friend (if you don’t have one of those...you should seriously consider working on finding one) get trashed, talk it out and let that shit go for a while. If you’re stuck in a rut for more than 2-3 months, get help. Seriously. It’s not embarrassing. It’s way more shitty in the long run when you turn out to be the aforementioned person who just stays fucking “stuck”. On another note, subject of the week has been middle aged divorced broads with kids and how sly and bitchy they are. If they go ape shit on me before getting their facts straight, imagine what they do to all these poor men? No fucking wonder a good, non hot dog throwing down hallway status, loyal, no bullshit broad like me can’t find a solid dude. The good dudes are out there getting berated by these broads they knocked up and can’t get out of it now because...you know...the kids and stuff. I’m glad I took a different path. Can’t imagine being in that desperate place looking for affection because I am 37-47 year old wrinkly, loosey goosey broad thinking I was tossed aside by a shitty man, when I am the nutbag...just looking for attention. It’s easy to get laid. No strings. No problems. Many people make it way too complicated. My friend’s brother is hilarious. He is kinda a douche and I love his stories about profiling chicks. My favorite was when he told this broad at the bar she looked beautiful and she said how he made her day! (First red flag) They go to exchange numbers and she once again tells him what a nice time she had meeting him ( nothing wrong with that) but then goes on daily wishing him a good day. That’s another desperate sign. Come to find out...middle aged. Divorced. Kids. Lonely in the panties. You know the drill. I used to host this radio show called Cryin’ Lovin’ Laughin’ or Leavin’ so I learned these things sort of young. You remember the patterns of people. You know warning signs of crazy. Here’s the most invaluable lesson, most people are batshit crazy. Keep the wall up a while. Test people. I have caught so many good people (so I thought) in lies through the years. Even little irrelevant lies. It doesn’t matter if it’s a friend, relative, colleague, or significant other. When you catch someone in a lie of even the smallest, you wonder what else they are capable of lying about. It changes everything. Be like me. Don’t lie. Sometimes it’s hard, but then you have nothing to hide and having the truth on your side keeps you out of some really shitty situations.Even if it is so embarrassing and you have to put a towel over your head to face the truth...do it. If you don’t believe a word of anything else I say...believe me when I tell you about people. The good and the bad. Just take the time to get to know a person. You don’t want a lazy middle aged squinty eyed salmoncake real estate selling Mom moving her and her kids asses into your house all of a sudden. You ain’t that desperate. Oh and dudes, I’m coming for you...don’t act desperate either. Just don’t. I tend to take your sides on this shit because dudes on the other sides of things are usually just happy to be free, so their demeanor is totally different. But that doesn’t mean I won’t flip sides on you if you guys start getting weird. Covid seems to have made everyone crazy.

Even in a good mood, there is nothing better than a super depressing 90’s country song...am I right? It’s that sad shit that always gets me in my damn near non-existent soul. Look, I randomly placed 6th out of 20 on a totally impromptu Roast Battle at the Laugh Factory in LA one night. One of the roastmasters told me I did so well for my first time because I have no soul. HA HA HA...that one fucking stuck with me. Back to the point - if you can’t sit down with a couple good homies now and then and blast “Alibis” on 10 while chugging Crown, you should really address some things in your monotonous life. Just sayin for someone who doesn’t do the bar scene much anymore and barely has feelings...I know every color of every neon sign. I’m always hashin out a heartache in the back of my mind. Makes me remember not to go there ever again. People suck. I feel like I have already mentioned this. I’m not a “hard” person. I’m a realist. I don’t want to miss fantastic opportunities with people, but I also know those people are few and far between so I really keep my guard up. The right people always tear it down in time.

People who get offended by profanity seriously piss me off more than a hive of wasps chasing me. Let me be clear...if I wasn’t dropping at least 72 f-bombs a day...I’m not sure where I would be in life. It’s turning all negative events in my life into positivity. I mean when you think about the F word. No matter how you slice or dice it...it does have a positive meaning in any context. “Go fuck yourself.” - Ok! “Fuck that!” - With what?! “Fuck You!” - Time and place please? Etc… Do you know what I am fucking saying?

Seriously asked my father the other day why he didn’t own Hilton chains or something. I’m sick of this fucking sweaty ass work too hard lifestyle with hardly any time to do fun shit. The idea of being some stuck up heiress with holes in my pockets sound fucking fantastic to me sometimes. Maybe just not the stuck up part. Could you imagine me that way? Snap my fingers and a drink comes! First class flights to St. Croix with my inner posse. Living the goddamn dream. Me and my doggies on a private island!

I’ve become a bit dramatic, I think. For an extremely hard headed Portagee, I can still call myself out when needed. It’s kinda weird not living alone anymore. I’ve got a badass homie around now (wish I would have met years ago) who actually gives a shit how my day was. So I kinda get called out now on my bullshit. (Side note: It’s important to keep company around you who doesn’t enable your negative traits. Your best friends will call you on your shit and help you grow.) Sometimes I’ll lay down and pout all day over some shit that is NOTHING. Just get stoned and forget the fuck about it. I’m sure this is something I’ve been doing for years. Never caught it til now. Checklist to work on. No one likes even a small percentage of a drama queen. Yuck.

Amazing the shit I think of while stoned. What’s the point of dating? Attach yourself to another person for life? Is that even natural? Attach yourself to yourself...not American Pie style you pervert. Attach yourself to doggies. I cannot stress enough how fulfilling life is raising pups. Watching them grow and learn. I’m not even talking about the ones you raise from babies. Even at an older age, your dog will still learn and grow with mental stimulation and affection. It’s so amazing to watch the new things they learn and pick up on. If you treat your dogs well, they will treat you double as well until death do you part. Sure, it’s shitty you get so attached and they don’t live very long, but it teaches you perseverance. True value of cherishing your pals and moving on in your life always keeping a piece of them with you. Sounds fucking gut wrenching sad. It is, but I promise you the time you spend with your pups outweighs the sadness in the end.( If you’re planning on spending zero time with your animal, leave your pet in constant confined spaces, starve or beat it...don’t fucking get one. Don’t even get close to one. They are better off in the wild than with your crazy ass. You ain’t right.)

You can’t be a lying dickface all the time and expect everyone to be nice to you. Saw a good one on Family Guy that touched my sweet heart a little. Stewie to Brian: “You’re not my friend. Friends come and go. You’re family. That’s for life.” Sounds so sweet. In fact I wanted to call my bestie and tell him that. Then I snapped out and realized “family” can be a super toxic F word. Sad thing is I have a pretty big “family” on each side, yet the older I get, I have realized my only family is my parents. In fact, I have created my own family full of non-blood relatives. Life is wonderful in the positive environment I have created for myself through the years. It’s amazing to form bonds with amazing people who have no ulterior motives like wills and money. Fucking money brings out the true colors in people. It’s sad. People spend their whole lives trippin balls over money. That must suck.

Those dorks at Central Catholic. Even at 15 made me laugh like hell. They’d interview the football “stars” getting full rides to Notre Dame and shit. My favorite was when asked about their favorite band... “Creed man. Such great “hard rock” with such powerful, positive messages.” Those dudes are probably miserable in their physical therapists jobs with their cheating whore wives who come home smelling like ratty vaginas. Someone had to fucking say it. Embarrassing confession: “My Sacrifice” is a FANFUCKINGTASTIC song!

I have a hard time with people. I try my best. I always learn and continue to grow. I got that goin for myself. People suck. People are cruel. (3rd time I’ve said this today?) People take no time to disappoint me for the most part. If you’re kind to me, I will be twice as kind to you. If you’re a fuckface to me, expect me to be an extra double fuck with a cherry on top. Add some nuts too and suck on that shit. I’m a badass person to have in your life and on your team. If you’re lucky enough to make it into my inner circle, I’ll probably be one of the best friend’s you’ve ever made. If you can’t look at yourself in the mirror and see the person that you would like to be friends with, you need to make some changes. It took me a long time to become my own best friend. If you can’t be solid with spending time with yourself, you can’t be solid with anyone and you’ll eventually become a dead weight. Take the time to get to know yourself and work on it...for me it’s constant. I know there is other people with my qualities in the world. If you find one, take the time to learn about them and ease your way into friendship slowly. Actions speak louder than words. Prove yourself to be a good human. Be patient. The best relationship of any type comes with time and work.

Let’s see…

Don’t be a fucking retail investor.

Don’t be a fucking commie.

Don’t be a fucking douchebag.

Don’t fucking settle.

Don't stop bettering yourself for you and those you care for.

Don’t stop fucking being YOU!

#westcoastprancer spaztime mybio wildchild speakyourmind

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angryhausfrau-writes · 4 years ago

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You Can’t Cross the Same River Twice - Chapter 13

"Hey, Trapper, you want to add anything to this Christmas card to BJ?" Hawkeye asks.

They've written joint Christmas cards to Radar and Klinger and Father Mulcahy and some of the nurses - Trapper's currently sitting across from Hawkeye at the dining room table, finishing his part of their letter to Ginger. They've sent a joint present to Hawkeye's dad and bought joint gifts for the girls. They're a unit - HawkeyeandTrapper.

But it had been HawkeyeandBJ for a while - if not quite in the same way.

"I don't know that he'd even want to hear from me. I don't mean anything to him other than being your roommate." And Trapper is also someone BJ had gotten jealous over a couple times. "Better just be from you, Hawk."

"All right." Hawkeye sounds tired.

Trapper reaches across the table and takes his hand. "You wanna talk about it?"

"I don't know if I even know what's bothering me." Hawkeye sighs. "This isn't my first go at this kind of relationship - although it's probably the most.. settled version. I know that I can't go yelling about how much I love you from the rooftops, can't even write about it in a goddamn Christmas card to my friends. I'm grateful for how many people know the truth, I really am, I'm glad we don't have to hide our relationship from Margaret or my dad or Sidney. But sending out all these letters really shows just how many people - people I love and care about - I have to hide it from. Because even if they didn't turn us in, they wouldn't understand."

"You ever think. You ever wish you found a girl to settle down with? Someone you could tell everyone about." Trapper takes a breath. "I wouldn't. I wouldn't blame you if you wished for that. If you wanted to go looking for it."

"Nah." Hawkeye seems to be trying for casual, but he ain't quite hitting the mark. "I think about all the girls I've been with - and I've had a lot of fun with some of them, don't get me wrong. But in the back of my mind, it was always. There was always this part of me saying I had to do it. It kept me safe, more than anything - more than being about the sex or romance, it was about being safe. And that colored things, took a lot of the romance - the potential for a future - right out of the relationship. I spent a lot of time chasing women who had absolutely no interest in me because it was an easy way to keep up appearances without having to actually do anything."

Hawkeye pauses.

"I don't want to go back to that, Trap. It was.. empty. Not like the connection, the understanding we have with each other. And maybe someday I will meet another Kyung Soon - another women I could have something lasting with - but it seems stupid to give up what I've got now - something good, something permanent, something meaningful - just on the off chance. I just wish..." Hawkeye trails off.

"Wish the world was a whole hell of a lot less shitty?" Trapper asks, sardonic.

Hawkeye laughs. "Yeah, that. I guess I got so used to the.. freedom of the 4077 - we were all just a bunch of weirdos stuck together in an impossible situation, desperately trying to stay sane, you know? - that I forgot what the real world was like a little bit. People didn't bat an eye at the jokes I made or the closeness I shared with you and BJ - it was just how I was, one weirdo out of a whole camp of weirdos. I forgot that other people - people in the real world - cared about that kind of thing so much. Especially after Frank left and I wasn't getting called a degenerate every day."

"And now you're back here in the real world and it's not what you remembered, not what you dreamed of to get you through Korea," Trapper says.

Hawkeye nods, defeated.

And Trapper knows how that feels. Trapper had felt the same thing when it had hit him that he was home. This was it. There was nothing else waiting for him. No magical, perfect world - dreamed of through rose tinted memory all through the Korean nights - nothing special hidden away behind the brutal reality of America and Boston and home.

"I guess I'm feeling kind of betrayed," Hawkeye says. "All that fighting for "democracy." All that blood and death. And I come back here - back home - and I ask myself if it was worth it. If this is really what we're trying to protect - to spread to other people. Conformity and bigotry and hate. And I feel like a fool for ever thinking - ever hoping - there was a reason for what we did. Something good behind the blood and shit and death." Hawkeye takes a breath. "There's a lot of good in my life, don't get me wrong. There are a lot of things that make me happy - you, the kids, the clinic, this strange little family we've cobbled together from the dregs of two different wars. But it's. A lot of the best parts of my life have to stay hidden. It's a secret happiness. And the fact that I can't tell BJ - the guy who was my best friend through some of the worst times in my life - about you, about how important you are to me. That really drives it all home."

Trapper squeezes Hawkeye's hand tight. There's not really anything to say to that - no words are adequate.

"At least we'll get to see Margaret and Sidney at New Years. People who know - who we can be open around." Hawkeye sighs and then straightens from his defeated slump. "I'm not - I'm not about to go stick my head in an oven or try and storm the White House or anything. I'm ok, Trap. Everything kind of just hit me all at once, but I'm ok."

"Wanna go out tonight? Be around other people - other guys like us?" Trapper asks. It might help Hawkeye feel less alone - less lost. It had sure helped Trapper when he first got back.

"Yeah," Hawkeye says, "that sounds nice." And he leaves the letter to BJ there on the table.

The bar is an oasis of warmth and light after the snowy streets of Boston. Full of laughter and chatter and dancing. Proof that Hawkeye isn't alone.

He dances with a dozen different men. Feels the warm solidity of their bodies, the strength of their arms. Knows with a certainty that this is real. He is real.

Trapper watches it all from the bar, face open and warm. And at the end of the night, he takes Hawkeye into his arms for a final spin around the dancefloor. Takes Hawkeye home and tucks him into bed under the warm covers in the cozy home they've made for themselves here.

And the next morning, Hawkeye sees that Trapper has written a short note at the end of Hawkeye's letter to BJ. And he smiles as he seals the envelope.

Trapper comes home from work to find a mysterious package sitting on the dining room table. Hawkeye's starring at it as intently as if it were a bomb. But unless Frank somehow got their address, it's probably not immediately dangerous - so Trapper takes the time to hang up his coat and hat and leaves his shoes to dry on the mat before approaching.

"Whatcha got there, Hawk? You're staring at that box like you can will yourself into x-ray vision."

"It's from Charles. And there's no note so I wanted to wait until you showed up just in case it's a lethal prank." Hawkeye brandishes a pair of scissors and cuts the package open. "The moment of truth!" he exclaims as he throws back the wrappings.

It's a fruitcake.

"Well, you weren't kidding about it being potentially lethal," Trapper says. "I'm pretty sure you could light it on fire from three feet away, it's got so much booze in it."

"What the hell are we supposed to do with it?" Hawkeye asks. "Use it for a doorstop? One slice and I'd be drunk for a week."

"Don't look at me," Trapper says. "I prefer to drink my booze and eat my dessert separate. Maybe you could bring it into the clinic, see if the other staff want any."

"Yeah, unless he also gave Letta the same gift. I can't compete with her powers of persuasion - I'd end up taking them both home. Ah. There's a little card stuck in it. Says Merry Christmas blah blah token of my friendship to all those in our card club blah Winchester family tradition blah blah Charles."

"Boy, if that's a Winchester family tradition they must all be absolutely plastered for the entire month of December," Trapper says.

"Must be what gets them through all those high-society holiday festivities." Then Hawkeye sighs. "Well, if bringing it to the clinic and pawning it off on Dr. Wilson is out, what do we do?"

"Uh," Trapper says, thinking. "We could put it on the stoop next door, kind of a mystery Christmas present for the neighbors."

"Good thinking - make it someone else's problem." Hawkeye re-wraps the cake and writes Merry Christmas in big letters on the box. "Think it'll be ok outside overnight?"

"Well, it ain't snowing and the cake's practically pickled - it'll probably be fine," Trapper says. And then after a peek through the front curtains, "Quick, let's put it outside now when no one's around to see us."

When Hawkeye leaves for work the next morning, the cake is gone. But when Trapper comes home off a late shift, he reports that the cake has been re-wrapped and placed on another doorstep a few houses down. Apparently the O'Gradys hadn't thought much of it either.

They make a sort of game of it, betting pocket change on who will get it next and admiring their neighbors' taste in holiday wrapping paper. Until finally, a week after it had arrived, the cake disappears permanently.

"Think it actually got eaten?" Trapper asks.

"Maybe they did the sensible thing and chucked it unopened," Hawkeye says. "I'm just glad that scourge of the neighborhood is finally gone."

But they can genuinely tell Charles they got a lot of enjoyment out of his gift when he asks about it at poker night.

Hawkeye's an agnostic and Trapper's been excommunicated but it's still nice to have Christmas with his family. Ok, it's not exactly Christmas - he and Hawkeye both have to work on the actual holiday - but he gets the kids the weekend after and they've got a tree and presents and Hawkeye's dad shipped a whole box of Pierce family decorations down.

They eat dinner together and then sit around the glowing tree and drink hot chocolate. It feels like home. Like family. Trapper maybe tears up a little. He'd missed that feeling last year, what with things between him and Louise so strained.

The girls are just thrilled to get to go through the festivities twice.

Hawkeye is absolutely giddy with excitement. There's something about watching people you love open the gifts you got just for them. Seeing Becky's blinding smile at the stack of Nancy Drew books gets a matching grin from him. And Cathy goes wild for the ice skates they'd gotten for her - especially when she manages to extract a promise to go to the ice rink on her next visit.

Hawkeye is even more overwhelmed when Cathy gives him the scarf he'd gotten her started knitting all those months ago. It's a little lumpy and misshapen but it's warm and soft and obviously made with love. And it's a nice cheerful pink, just the thing to chase away the winter blues. Hawkeye gives her a big hug and vows to wear it every day.

Later, after the kids are in bed, he and Trapper exchange gifts. And when Trapper opens Hawkeye's gift for him - the sweater, started almost the moment he got home - he's on the edge of his seat. Hawkeye's made a lot of people knitwear as gifts, but this is a bigger project than most. And for someone who's opinion means an awful lot.

"Hawkeye." Trapper sounds awed. "I love it, thank you." He cradles the sweater to his chest like it's something precious.

"Well, try it on," Hawkeye urges. "I want to see how I did on the sizing."

Trapper complies. And it looks good. Trapper's got a cute body regardless but the fit is flattering and Hawkeye was right about the color bringing out the green in Trapper's eyes. Hawkeye lets out a low whistle in appreciation.

"It meet your standards?" Trapper asks as he does a slow turn to show off all the angles. "It sure is comfy. I don't know that I'll wanna take it off till August."

"I've outdone myself with this one, Trap, it has to be said." Hawkeye lets himself sound a little smug. And then more seriously he says, "I'm glad you like it."

And then Hawkeye makes impatient grabby hands. "C'mon Trap, enough with the catwalk. What did you get me?"

Trapper hands over the package. And he's been nervous about this. He's not as well read - not as cultured - as Hawkeye is. But he'd liked the author from English class and knows Hawkeye's referenced at least one of his poems. And the book has a lot about war and living in the aftermath. It felt appropriate. Though Trapper's still not sure if Hawkeye will appreciate the book or understand what Trapper's trying to say with it.

But Hawkeye looks happy with the gift - and then he opens the book to the marked page and reads:

Let it go on; let the love of this hour be poured out till all the answers are made, the last dollar spent and the last blood gone.

Time runs with an axe and a hammer, time slides down the hallways with a pass-key and a master-key, and time gets by, time wins.

Let the love of this hour go on; let all the oaths and children and people of this love be clean as a washed stone under a waterfall in the sun.

Time is a young man with ballplayer legs, time runs a winning race against life and the clocks, time tickles with rust and spots.

Let love go on; the heartbeats are measured out with a measuring glass, so many apiece to gamble with, to use and spend and reckon; let love go on.

Hawkeye's a little misty-eyed when he looks back up.

"Thank you, Trapper." And then Hawkeye's hugging him, the book squeezed awkwardly between them.

It looks like he does understand after all.

#mash #piercintyre #fanfic archive #you can't cross the same river twice #chapter 13

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mst3kproject · 8 years ago

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907: Hobgoblins

I have to begin with a confession: I've never been able to watch this episode all the way through. I've tried. I can't do it. Hobgoblins is too awful. Too stupid. Too tedious. Watching the movie for this review was actually the first time I've seen how it ends.

Ha ha ha. Like I give a shit how this movie ends.

So there's this old film studio lot with an eldery security guard who is trying to train a successor, but his new hires keep dying on him. The latest model is called 'Kevin'. Kevin is dull in both looks and personality, and hangs out with a bunch of annoying stereotypes: there's Daphne the Slut, her boyfriend Nick the Rambo-Wannabe, Kyle the Dorky Pervert, and Amy the Repressed Ice Bitch. Unfortunately for us in the audience, these idiots are not the expendable meat. They do not get amusingly killed off one by one. These are the characters we're supposed to like and they all survive. Fuck, I hate this movie.

Anyway, the reason the apprentice security guards keep dying is because the film vault is home to four hobgoblins, ugly little puppets from outer space who have the power to bring people's fantasies to life and then kill them. The movie tries to make some kind of point out of this, with the old security guard explaining that what people want isn't always what's good for them. This is often true: think of the people in the real world who've achieved their own dreams of fame and fortune only to end up broke, addicted, in jail, or all three. That, however, is hard to depict in less than a hundred minutes with a budget of less than a hundred dollars and an IQ of less than a hundred points, so the movie is a little less subtle and realistic about it.

The previous apprentice security guard, Dennis, got a few seconds of being a rock star before tripping over nothing, falling off the stage, and I guess breaking his neck. Kyle's dream is a physical date with his favourite phone sex girl, who tries to push his car off a cliff. Nick wants to be a war hero: he jumps on a grenade. Amy wants to open herself up to sexuality, so she becomes a stripper and... you know, I don't want to know how her backstage quickie with the hairy bouncer would have destroyed her. Same for Daphne's 'truck full of soldiers' fantasy. We can take it for granted that it would have been fucking stupid.

Supposedly the fantasies only disappear when the Hobgoblins get killed, but even though I counted at least four dead hobgoblins there are somehow still a couple of them left when they get chased back into the vault at the end. The old security guy then blows up the whole building with dynamite that he's apparently had on hand the entire time and never used. Why the hell didn't he do that years ago? The characters loudly let us know that they have learned nothing from any of this, and then, thank god, it's over.

Hobgoblins is so incredibly bad it almost defies description. It is painful even to look at this fucking movie. This is in large measure because there's nothing in it to look at. Movies should really have things like mood lighting, direction, and set dressing, but Hobgoblins has none of that. The set dressing thing is actually particularly noticeable. There are three major 'sets' in the 'movie', if I can use those words: the warehouse, Kevin's place (I think it's Kevin's place, at least), and Club Scum. All of them suck furry hobgoblin wang.

The 'warehouse' is some kind of office building. It's nowhere near shabby enough to be actually abandoned – the floors look like Kalgan was only just through there on his linoleum zamboni – and possesses about as much personality as a jar of Cheez Wiz. It's not creepy. It looks like someplace where those old high school friends Facebook wants you to re-connect with probably ended up working. The movie could have done something with this, juxtaposing a workaday exterior with the horrors hidden within, but doesn't bother.

Kevin's house looks like they got permission to film there by promising to buy it from the realtor who's been trying to sell the place for six months. They probably got all their shooting done in an afternoon and then absconded before anybody could demand a down-payment. Like the warehouse, it's completely bland. Both the exterior siding and interior walls are beige. There's not much by the way of décor, and almost no furniture. I think we're supposed to believe that only Kevin and Amy actually live there, though it seems a bit odd that they'd be living together when their relationship is emphatically not sexual. Based on what we see of the others, however, it looks for all the world like Kyle camps out on the living room sofa every night, and Daphne apparently lives with Nick in his van in the driveway.

I probably shouldn't judge. I've seen weirder living arrangements among twenty-somethings.

Then there's Club Scum, which is supposed to be a strip bar where tough types hang out. I think it was filmed in an elementary school auditorium. All the 'set dressing' is stuff that can be quickly taken down because the PTA needs the space for their Holiday Bake Sale on Saturday. And despite the place's supposed reputation, the movie balks at showing anything questionable actually happening there: some extras drink fake beer, and Amy 'strips' by taking her gloves off. That’s about it.

Some band that was willing to work for ‘exposure’ puts in an appearance here. Their song is bad but it does its job, which is to make the movie three minutes longer.

Costumes are as minimal as sets. It's a funny thing about costumes and sets – when they're done well, you don't notice them. They become nothing but the clothes people are wearing and the places they are in. If you're looking at them as costumes and sets, it means that somebody has fucked up. The people on the Club Scum set are wearing costumes, dressed up as tough types but in no way actually inhabiting those characters. They look like they're at a Hallowe'en party. So does 'Fantazia' the phone sex girl, in her leopard-print top and tight gold pants. The clothes worn by the main characters look like they're a product of the actors being told “dress like a _____.” Dress like a soldier. Dress like a prude. I dunno, just show up with clothes on. The only costumes in the whole movie that really work are those worn by the security guards, and that's mostly because security guards in real life don't look like they particularly inhabit their uniforms, either.

As well as nothing to look at, there's nothing to listen to. The characters have nothing interesting to say, because like the sets, they're boring and flavourless. Each has a single note that they never deviate from. We have no idea why any of these people hang out with each other. Why are Amy and Daphne friends, when their only personality characteristics are the diametrically opposed 'prude' and 'slut'? Why do Kevin and Kyle hang out, when they barely interact? Why are Kevin and Amy dating when they don't even seem to like each other? The only relationship in the film that is given any kind of basis is that of Daphne and Nick, who seem to be together entirely for the sex.

I want to say that writer and director Rick Sloane clearly has one hell of a madonna/whore complex, but considering that the men in this movie also seem to define themselves in terms of the sex they are or are not having... I guess he's actually just a creepy weirdo.

If this movie has any defenders (which I doubt – even Sloane knew it sucked corn-filled, coiled-up shit, because he submitted it to MST3K himself), they might now be saying that none of this matters, because the movie is a comedy. One-note characters are part of the joke! That argument may hold water for some movies – Zoolander, for example, derives much of its humour from the title character's stupidity and narcissism. It doesn't work for Hobgoblins, though. In order for something to be part of a joke, the movie has to have at least one joke. Hobgoblins does not. It has premises that could be used for jokes, but no jokes are ever made with them.

The most obvious example is probably Daphne. Daphne is a slut. The movie tells us this over and over: Daphne is the sluttiest slut ever to need an improbable amount of semen pumped from her stomach, and... that's it. That's as far as it ever goes.

That's not a joke. Daphne is a slut is not a joke, it's merely a statement. Your mama's so fat, she went to a restaurant and got a group discount is a joke. It takes a premise (your mama is fat) and does something with it, taking it too far and drawing an absurd conclusion (the restaurant staff thought she counted as several people). You can't just say your mama's so fat and end there, because that's not funny to anyone over the age of six. Neither is Daphne's sluttiness, Kyle's phone sex addiction, Amy's repression, or Nick's assholetude. The movie acts as if these things are funny all by themselves, but they're not, not even on the puerile and insulting level of a 'your mama' joke.

The closest Hobgoblins ever comes to having a joke is when the characters agree that one person should hold all the wallets while they're in Club Scum – they elect Kyle, who is promptly robbed at knifepoint by a thug who was listening to the whole conversation. This is obviously supposed to be funny, but again, nothing is done with it. It's just a thing that happens and is then immediately forgotten about. It's shit, just like everything else. Fuck this movie.

Seeing as I've already said I consider The Starfighters to be possibly the worst movie ever shown on MST3K, I'm sure somebody reading this is wondering which I would rather watch – Starfighters or Hobgoblins. And to that person, whoever they may be, I answer thusly:

#mst3k #reviews #hobgoblins #fuck this movie #80s

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meanwhileinoz · 7 years ago

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10+ People Shared Small Lies That Escalated Really Quick And Became Part Of Their Lives

Telling a lie is never worth it.

You are going to get caught eventually. If you don’t, however, you will have to live with that lie for the rest of your life. This is what happened to the following people. They might have thought “what harm can one innocent lie do?” Apparently a lot.

#1 Guess that is your name now.

My husband’s best friend has a 6 year old daughter that I see often. When she was almost 3 she babbled something to me (I think it was “My friends here!”) and my husband interpreted it as “My friend Steve!” and started calling me Steve in front of her.

Now her whole family call me Steve when she’s around, and she still believes that’s my name. For clarity, I’m a female and my name isn’t anything close to Steve.

–rebel_nature

#2 At least they got free dinner.

I didn’t want to go to dinner with the gang from work, including my boss, so I told them I was having dinner with my wife and her parents. Of course, It was lie.

I get home, wife wants to go out to dinner. So, we head to the restaurant, and just as we’re getting near the door, I see the work gang with my loudmouth boss all piling out of their cars. What are odds of us picking the same restaurant? Shit. Busted.

There was an old couple walking into the restaurant in front of us. I held the door for them, and insisted they join us for dinner. They were quite perplexed, but accepted my offer of a free dinner.

It was the most uncomfortable dinner ever. They had no clue who we were, none of us had any shared interests… they rushed through dinner, thanked us, and got the hell away from what I’m sure they thought were a couple of weirdos.

–disgustipated

#3 Happily pay full price?

I became friends with one of the managers at Panera. One day as I was giving a cashier my order, he told her to give me the same discount as they give to firemen, police and paramedics, i think.

He just chose this discount as it was an easy button to push on the register. Well this cashier really thought I was a fireman. I’m not. So for the next two years this cashier gave me the discount.

Even if she wasn’t serving me, she would go out of her way to tell the cashier that was helping me, “He’s a fireman, give him the discount”. It snowballed into such an awkward situation that I didn’t know how to get out of it. Luckily that cashier eventually transferred to another store and I now happily pay full price.

–Steve0512

#4 You can never lie forever.

Living in a College Town, every year around spring graduation there’s one or two “I’m here to see my kid graduate, but I haven’t been able to locate them” families. Usually kids that stopped going, pocketed their parents money, and/or just gave up and couldn’t handle telling the family.

It ends sadly sometimes.

That’s a big lie/deception to deal with and maintain. It almost always comes to a head.

–YunalescaSedai

#5 Well, you’re not technically lying?

When I was 14 years old I played with a group of other kids on stage during the 2008 Hawaii International Ukulele Festival. Jack Johnson was performing and we were behind him strumming along.

Hundreds of us. This story has turned so thoroughly into-I played on stage side by side with him just the two of us- that I can’t correct people anymore and just shamefully accept the oohs and ahhs when it gets retold.

–Axinyew

#6 You have to lie to your boyfriend’s mother.

Once my boyfriends mom asked me if I liked their bathroom soap. It’s lavender, I don’t like lavender. But I decided to tell her “I love it, it smells so good!”

Now I have an endless supply, she buys me some all the time. It’s too sweet to tell her the truth, so I just keep it to myself and use the mediocre-smelling soap.

–Llebanna

#7 Name change? No worries!

Back in High School, someone in my freshman English class thought he heard someone call me Louis, so he started calling me Louis. Not really a friend, just someone I spoke to on occasion.

Now high school me thought he was just him trying to be funny, and didn’t care to correct him and he continued to call me Louis and whenever I heard him call for me I responded.

It wasn’t until our last week of senior year that he stops me in his tracks and goes. “Someone told me your name isn’t Louis. Is your name Louis?”

“No.”

“I-I’ve been calling you Louis for 4 years! I thought that was your name!”

–Zytherious

#8 Sorry but you got played.

My first relationship. A few days in, then-girlfriend tells me she isn’t ready to go public just yet and if we could just pretend we weren’t together for a few days then she would be ready.

Six months later, I had lied to so many people for her I can’t tell whats real anymore and any time I asked her if we could stop because it was messing with me she refused and argued her way out of it.

Looking back on this fucks with my head to this day. Amazing how much things like that can snowball.

–Terminator_t101

#9 Well, he was certainly polite.

Not me but my Dad. We moved and he was convinced the postman’s name was ‘Ger’ as in short for Gerry. He greeted him by it, nearly every day for about 10 years. We even gave him a Christmas card which he displayed down in the sorting office.

Fast forward and we have a temporary post man, my Mum asking him after a few weeks ‘When is Ger coming back?’ This was met with stunned silence and a puzzled look, with a resounding ‘Who is Ger? No one works in the locality by that name’

Turns out, his name is Declan and he was too nice to correct my Dad for close to a decade.

–Parmersan

#10 Sometimes you have to sacrifice your tastebuds for love.

When I was little, my grandma would make me these horrible frozen chicken tenders filled with cheese. They were just god-awful. Because I am a good grandson, I told her that I loved them.

From then on, every time that I visited her, she would cook me those abominations. Even when I was in graduate school, I would go visit her and for one meal, I would have to slide those gross things down my gullet.

Every time I would say, “Thanks! I love them!” The things we do for love…

–the_planes_walker

#11 Isn’t that illegal?

I was looking for a job and I didn’t want to be a fast food manager anymore so I fluffed out my resume with computer skills I didn’t have. I was contacted by a recruiter who asked me some questions to gauge my abilities and I straight googled the answers as he was asking them.

When I went to the interview, the boss had all of these circuit boards sitting all over his desk. I recognized them as Raspberry pis from Reddit. So I asked what he was using them for. The rest of the interview was just this guy bragging about all of these projects he had going on.

He might as well have been speaking Greek. I just feigned interest and said wow a lot. I’m hired. Who knows how this shit happened but I have literally googled every problem I have been given. Day 543, they still think I know what I’m doing.I’m making 1.5 times what I was making as a manager. I have a GED for chrissake.

–realitygenrator

#12 Although you got a cute duck out of it.

told my parents i bought a duck when I was 20 to tease them. I found a picture online of one and sent it to them. Sadly, they believed me. They got overly excited about their “grand-duck” and told my whole family.

I ended up buying a duck…

–ThePolishFish

#13 Yeah, he just moved…for forever.

I did online homeschooling for a few years and there was a forum where you could socialize with other students enrolled in the school. During this time I was big into making music on a DAW I had downloaded.

I didn’t know how to play any instruments, but I could still download different drum beats and guitar riffs from the dev’s website. I shared a few songs with my fellow “classmen” and told everyone that I could play guitar and had a friend that tracked the drums.

Eventually people started asking me for guitar lessons or more songs. I couldn’t keep up the lie so I told them that my friend moved to Africa for a missions trip and would not return for the foreseeable future. But everyone in that forum thought I could play guitar. I couldn’t, and still can’t play to save my life.

–Primitive_Teabagger

#14 Such a good friend he is.

A new coworker of mine tried downplaying his birthday and eventually after me hounding him about why he didn’t like celebrating, he eventually told me in confidence that his best friend was killed on his birthday and he hates thinking about it.

Fast forward 8 years — this guy and I had become really good friends. Best friends. Lived together at one point. He was accepted into my friend group and I always made sure to downplay his birthday (his is 4 days after another friend) so we just did a group thing and never made a big deal about it.

Finally someone got brave enough and wanted to talk to him about it, and he laughed and had no recollection of telling me that and said he was probably just screwing with me. He always wondered why no one wished him happy birthday.

–jackrack1721

#15 It seems harmless enough.

I moved to a new city, and got a new dentist. For some reason, the guy thinks I used to see him at his old practice in a town I’ve never lived in. I corrected him a couple times, but he just keeps bringing it up, so now I just kind of roll with it.

He asks after my parents, which is easy enough…but we’ve had all kinds of conversations about local restaurants I’ve never been to and other random stuff like that.

–Davran

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