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nataliedanovelist · 3 years

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GF - Their Girl

Loosely based off of several cases that have, unfortunately, taken place in schools.

Mabel defends herself when a boy touches her, only to be the one to get in trouble. Not on her grunkles watch.

~~~~~~~~~~

“In 1930, the Republican-controlled House of Representatives, in an effort to alleviate the effects of the - Anyone? Anyone? - the Great Depression, passed a - Anyone? Anyone? - a tariff bill. The Hawley-Smoot Tariff Act, which - Anyone? Raised or lowered? - raised tariffs, in an effort to collect more revenue for the Federal Government.”

Mabel leaned back in her desk chair to stretch. It was cold in the high school, but luckily her seat was right in the sunshine, warming her up like a lizard on a rock. Her baggy yellow sweater fell off her left shoulder and she let it without giving it much of a second thought, then watched some birds on a tree as the Economics teacher droned on.

“Did it work? Anyone? Anyone know the effects? It did not work, and the United States fell deeper into the Great Depression.”

Tenth grade was too young to learn about something so boring. This was for suckers who paid money for it, like college students. Mabel held her breath to keep herself from snorting over her own inner thoughts. Grunkle Stan would be proud of her, she thought, and her thoughts wandered to him and Grunkle Ford, until she was snapped back into reality. Literally.

“Today, we have a similar debate over this, anyone know what this is? Class? Anyone? Anyone? Anyone seen this before? The Laffer Curve.”

A boy behind her (his name slipped her mind at the proper moment) was playing with her exposed bra strap. It felt like he had grabbed it, barely pulled it back, and let go. At first, she thought maybe it was an accident. Unlike, but possible. But then it happened again, this time the boy pulled the bra strap far enough that when he let go it slapped against her skin a little. It didn’t hurt, and the teacher’s boring voice drowned out the noise, but still.

“Anyone know what this says? It says that at this point on the revenue curve you will get exactly the same amount of revenue as at this point.”

Mabel turned around sharply at once and gave him a deadly glare. “Stop it.” She whispered firmly.

The boy grinned menacingly, and sneered just as quietly, “Make me.”

Mabel whipped her head back, making sure her long ponytail hit him in the face, but though her actions stopped him for a moment, soon he was back to pulling on her bra strap, each time pulling back farther and farther.

“This is very controversial. Anyone know what President George H. W. Bush called this in 1980? Anyone? Something-D-O-O Economics. Voodoo Economics.”

A loud snap sound echoed, a yell of pain and aggravation, and then Mabel Pines stood so sharply her chair fell backwards, turned around, and punched the jerk in the face, left-hook boxing style.

“Ms. Pines!” The teacher scolded loudly.

The whole class was on the edge of their seats. All the kids had seen what happened; the ones sitting closest to the pair had been well aware of what was going on since the beginning. While they were hopeful the jerk would get what’s coming to him, they all knew that wasn’t likely. Not under the most sexist teacher’s nose.

“To Mr. William’s office. Now.” He growled.

“But he was touching my bra!” Mabel defended. “He was invading my personal bubble even though I told him to back off!”

“It’s a very small classroom, Ms. Pines. And maybe he wouldn’t have touched it if you didn’t have it out for the whole world to see.” The man said coldly and pointed to the door. “Now please leave my classroom.”

Mabel knew there was no point in defending herself. She did a quick glance around the room to see if anyone would defend her, but no one looked ready to jump into the line of fire. She understood why. This guy had a bad reputation. Mabel loudly stuffed her notebook filled with doodles into her backpack, took it and her small purse, and stomped out of the classroom.

She did manage to catch the blood coming out of the boy’s nose and grinned.

At Mr. William’s office, the sweet secretary with old-lady glasses offered her a mint and was very nice to her. But soon Mr. William entered the room and had Mabel enter his office. Apparently the teacher had called ahead so Mabel didn’t have to tell the principal what happened, leaving the girl to feel like she was walking into the Lion’s Den.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dipper left his Robotics class to meet up with Mabel, who normally would be leaving Economics, so they could walk to their last class, Language Arts 10, together. Economics emptied pretty quickly thanks to the boredom, so Dipper was a bit confused when he didn’t see his twin sister out in the hall, and wondered if she was in the bathroom.

He saw a fellow student who shared Mabel’s Economics class, Rose, leave the ladies’ room, and so he asked, “Hey Rose, is Mabel in there?”

She shook her head. “Nah, didn’t you hear? She got sent to the office for punching Jeremy.”

Dipper grinned with pride, but it quickly went away; Mabel would only do that if Jeremy was doing something. “What’d he do?”

“Smacked her with her own bra strap.” Rose pulled down the neck of her t-shirt and demonstrated, “Like this.” And she pulled her bra strap and let go, making it snap.

“Are you kidding me?!” Dipper yelled and his eyes landed on the teacher to his right, standing with his arms crossed and looking out for rule-breakers.

The young man growled in his throat like an angry dog, ready to tell the jerk off, but he felt a buzz in his pocket and pulled out his phone while Rose walked away. Dipper calmed down a little, sighed, and walked to the lockers to lean against them as he responded to his newest text. He had no intention of going to Language Arts. He’d be on his way to the office soon enough in case his sister needed him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford re-read the maps and plans for Spring Break with an exciting grin all over his face. Soon the kids would be out of school and take a bus to the pier where he and Stan had docked the Stan O’ War II, then they would sail alongside the California shore, fishing, sailing, and occasionally swimming, for a whole week. They had been planning this since the holidays, when they had all facetimed for five hours while the old sailors were on the shores of the Netherlands. The kids had practically begged to go on the boat with them, and so they agreed to sail alongside Russia and visit California, planning to then re-visit Alaska quickly before sailing down to Oregon for the summer.

Stan climbed up from the cabin below as he pulled on his white t-shirt. “How much longer until the kids are free from prison?”

Ford rolled his eyes and checked his watch. “Ninety minutes. And it’s a twenty minute drive, so it’ll be about another two hours, Stanley.”

The youngest of the pair by fifteen minutes groaned and collapsed on the couch. “I could always hotwire a car and we could see them now. We can pretend one of us died and so we need the kids now.”

“Stanley, no.”

“Stanley YES!”

Ford chuckled and rolled up the map. “Text them if you miss them so much.”

“Maybe I will.” Stan snorted and pulled out his phone to text in the group chat. “Surviving okay, kids?” Just a casual greeting, and he and Ford were pleasantly surprised to get a little buzz back not a minute longer.

“Not really.”

Stan raised an eyebrow while Ford had his back to him and was organizing his papers. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Little dots appeared and reappeared. Stan knew what that meant. Dipper was being careful how he answered. Stan decided to check, and sure enough Mabel hadn’t even seen the texts yet. When he got a small paragraph back, Stan nearly crushed his phone in his fist. “WHAAAAAT?!”

Ford jumped a foot in the air and held his chest. “Christ, Stan, what…”

“Check your phone, Genius! We’re going to Piedmont. NOW!” And Stan slapped on his beanie and stormed out of the cabin of the ship with a slam of the door.

Ford picked up his phone, which had been lying face-down on the table, and once he was caught up on messages, he matched his twin’s anger and made sure his ray gun was in his blue hoodie as he left.

~~~~~~~~~~

Mabel sat in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest, letting Mr. Williams go on his tangent. According to the school nurse, she had broken Jeremy’s nose. Good. That’s what he gets for touching her. But apparently Mr. Williams disagreed, saying things like how her actions were unlawful and that she had no right to punch another student.

“Under no circumstances should you ever punch a fellow student, Ms. Mabel.” Mr. Williams said firmly.

“But he was touching me!” Mabel quickly injected, in some effort to defend herself. “He was pulling on my bra strap and smacking me with it! And I told him to stop, but he wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Mr. Williams snorted as he reached into his desk. “Well maybe next time you won’t wear such revealing clothes? How else are people supposed to pay attention to the lesson?”

Mabel felt her heart drop. She looked back down at her sweater, her purposely baggy yellow sweater that she had knitted herself a few months ago. This sweater - in fact, none of her sweaters - had ever been a problem before. Mabel plucked at her top and said in a quiet, timid voice, “But I made this.”

Mr. Williams glanced up from what he was writing for a second, before mumbling bitterly with his cold eyes on his paper, “Let the professionals make your clothes, okay? If you don’t want to find yourself in trouble then try wearing suitable clothing.”

Mabel felt her entire face turn red. She was so angry and so hurt and she saw no possible way out of this, so she decided to bite her lip and hide the lower-half of her face in her sweater, shrinking in her seat and lifting her yellow sweater up a bit.

“Now, I am giving you three weeks of detention.” Mr. Williams said. “Two for violence and invading a student’s personal bubble, and one for breaking dress…”

The door opened sharply. Mabel turned and her jaw was wide open to find her great-uncles at the foot of the office. At first she was jubilant to see them again, but then terrified to see them so angry. She had never seen them so mad. She knew they could be scary when they wanted to, but they had always seemed like soft old teddy bears to Mabel, what with their fluffy gray hair and warm hugs and squishy tummy-tums to snuggle against. Mabel was a little unhinged to find their faces darkened with anger. She could see a vein popping out of Stan’s forehead. Ford appeared to try to be collected, but his aura was as black as an imploding star, matching his brother’s quite well.

Mabel stood on shaking knees. Her uncles softened, ignoring the cold look Mr. Williams was giving them, and Stan was at her in an instant, with Ford right behind him, rubbing her shoulders and looking over her. “Mabel, sweetie, are you okay? Did he hurt you? I swear to Moses if that…”

“I’m okay, Grunkle Stan, I promise.” Mabel soothed, trying to smile, but she was still really nervous. “I… Wow, it’s great to see you guys, I missed you, but why are you here?”

“Dipper contacted us.” Ford said softly. “Said you were in trouble. What exactly happened?”

“She pu-...”

“I didn’t ask you.” Ford growled at Mr. Williams. Mabel actually shivered. She was so used to hearing a smooth, warm, comforting voice come from him, that hearing it growl like an animal like that startled her. “I am talking to my niece.” His eyes moved back on Mabel and he was instantly much warmer and not as scary. “What happened, pumpkin?”

“I was in Economics when this boy, Jeremy, was plucking at my bra strap.”

“Please show us exactly what he did.”

“Does it matter?!” Stan snapped. “He touched her!”

“Stanley, please,” Ford gave him a firm look, then returned his attention back to their girl. “Humor me.”

Mabel nodded in agreement. She had pulled her sweater down so it had covered both shoulders and sagged a bit on her chest. Now she moved it so her left shoulder was completely exposed, and she pinched at her strap. “It started like this,” She barely lifted it up, having little effect or sound. “But then after I told him to stop, he did this.” And Mabel pulled back far enough that when she let go it made a harsh slapping sound against her skin.

“Wait a minute,” Stan had caught a glimpse of it the moment she lowered her sweater. He gently turned her to look at the back of her shoulder, and he saw red. Literally. Her skin was reddening from the aggression. Not enough to swell or require ice, but enough to indicate just how invading and violent the action had been.

Stan was growling in his throat. He squeezed Mabel’s forearms reassuringly and said, “We’ll handle this, pumpkin.”

“Gentlemen,” Mr. Williams said firmly, still acting professional and snobbish. “Your niece here has violated several school rules and even went as far as to break a student’s nose.”

“You did?” Stan asked and patted her back. “That’s my girl!”

Mr. William’s nostrils flared. “Gentlemen, that is not what we should be teaching young…”

“While breaking cartilage is unfortunate, sir,” Ford said coldly, stepping forward, “It’s abundantly clear that she was only defending herself. Not only did the boy have no right to touch her, in any sense, in any manner, she was even gracious enough to give a verbal warning before she acted as she had to to get the boy to stop.”

Mr. Williams crossed his arms over his chest and snarled, “Well maybe if she hadn’t dressed in such a distracting way Mr…”

“Oh HELL NO!” Stan marched forward and slammed his fists down on the desk so hard he actually left cracks in the wood from the impact. “YOU’RE NOT PLAYING THAT GAME, ASSHOLE! NOT ON MY FUCKING WATCH!”

Ford made no attempt to silence his twin. In fact, he was smiling cunningly, like a policeman letting his dog go after the target. He gently walked Mabel to the door and ushered her outside. “Why don’t you wait outside, my dear? Dipper is waiting for you with a snack and some water to calm your nerves, you look a little shaken.” He said quietly.

Mabel dipped her head and smiled, unable to find the words, but Ford understood and closed the door after her.

Dipper was, in fact, there with a package of peanuts and bottled water in his hands for her. They sat in the cool office, listening to the conversation. While exact words were muffled by the walls and door, it sounded like Stan and Ford both were yelling and cursing at the principal. While Dipper and Mabel probably should have been more nervous, they weren’t; they were calm and they both knew that everything would be okay.

About half an hour later, just when the old men’s throats were getting a little sore, they left, leaving Mr. Williams to try to kill a small fire on his desk. Stan swiftly pocketed his lighter and smiled warmly at his kids. “Let’s ditch this hellhole.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Mabel was sipping some hot chocolate with extra marshmallows while Dipper was in the shower and her uncles elsewhere on the boat. She rubbed her shoulder with her free hand, elbows on the table, as she thought about the day. While she was grateful to not be in trouble and that the whole situation was over, it didn’t feel over. At least, the feelings it gave her hadn’t gone away.

The door opened and she smiled to see her favorite uncles coming inside. “Hey there, pumpkin.” Stan greeted warmly, but grew a little concerned. “You okay?”

Mabel blinked and tried to make a more convincing smile. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“That principal rattled you pretty good.” Stan pulled out a chair and sat next to her, rubbing her back. “C’mon, what’s on your mind?”

Mabel looked down at her hot drink, sighed, unsure of how to properly express her emotions, but managed to settle with, “It wasn’t fair.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Ford said firmly and stood on her other side. She looked up at him and the old scientist said, “What happened to you was completely unfair and should never be tolerated.”

Mabel nodded in agreement. “It’s just that… not only should Jeremy not have touched me, but you’d think people would have my back for defending myself, but… they made it seem like it was my fault…”

“Mabel Pines,” Stan moved his hand to her shoulder and squeezed gently. “That was not your fault. You did nothing wrong. You dress how you want and punch any guy that touches you if you don’t wanna be touched, and don’t let anyone tell you you should act differently.”

Mabel smiled weakly and nodded. “Okay.”

Stan chuckled and ruffled her hair. “That’s my girl.”

“Now hold one minute, Stanley.” Ford teased and wrapped Mabel up in a one-armed hug, making her giggle and hug him around his waist. “You were always terrible at sharing. She’s my girl, too.”

Stan smeared playfully and tickled Mabel’s ribs to loosen her grasp on Ford, pulling her into a big bear hug as she laughed. “Nu, uh. My girl.”

Mabel rolled her eyes as the twins only kept up the charade for another minute, filled to the brim with appreciation and power.

#GF #gravity falls #fanfiction #ford pines #stan pines #mabel pines #dipper pines #overprotective grunkles #Thanks for reading!

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piningfor-pinestwins · 4 years

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Natural Attraction (Stan x Reader Slow Burn; Eventual NSFW)

You put your car into park, eyeballing the wooden cabin your map led you to. When you’d received a postcard in the mail from Ford Pines himself, you figured it’d be something good, but a nice place in the middle of the woods in Oregon? Definitely an interesting place to continue his work.

You nibble your bottom lip as you double-check the address on the postcard, nervous fingers tracing the slightly tattered edge of the cardstock. Ford’s loopy cursive had beckoned your presence to the small town, and now that you were here, you could sense why. The woods around the cabin are dense, the contents of those woods possibly new and ripe for discovery. He’d mentioned a few creatures he’d run into while living in this area that intrigued you; little men with long white beards, eyeballs with wings, a bear with many heads! A kind man, he remembered you from Backupsmore where you’d gotten your Zoology degree. He was a nice partner in the few classes you’d had with him, a sheepish smile hidden behind his hand while the two of you whispered between experiments. In all honesty, he was probably the first friend you’d made at that school.

And now here he comes, the same sheepish grin spread across his cheeks as he waves to you from his porch, shoving his hands into his pockets as he comes toward your car.

“It’s so good to see you again,” He laughs as he claps a hand to your shoulder, six fingers squeezing you gently in lieu of a hug. He definitely looks different, you think, with his arms much thicker than they used to be under his cable-knit sleeves.

“I’m glad you decided to come! I’ve got a hunch that there’s a new creature becoming as curious of us as I am of it, and I’d like your help with it, if you’re interested.” Ford talks as he takes your suitcase from the top rack of your car, careful to hold it close to his side as he motions you toward the house. “You’re welcome to use the attic as a workspace and bedroom, if you wish. Everything’s newly built, so likely not haunted.” He teases, and you smile, holding your purse to your chest as you walk comfortably alongside him, quietly laughing as you both reminisce that you swore your dorm building had at least 4 ghosts inside, but you somehow got away from it alive.

He’s grinning as he closes the wooden door behind the both of you, and you quietly regard the tall stranger moving around the kitchen, the faint sound of water running distantly. Ford smiles down at you and sets your suitcase on the floor nearby, moving through the living room and calling for the man to come meet you.

The stranger dries his hands on the corner of an apron he’s wearing, using his shoulder to push the edge of his glasses back onto his face as he extends a slightly-damp hand. “Fiddleford McGucket, ma’am. Ford’s told me plenty about ya.” He’s grinning, freckled cheeks lifting his glasses slightly further up his face. You shake his hand and give him your name, matching his kind smile as you release his fingers. “You came on a good day! I reckon I’ve made too much supper for the three o’ us, so you’ll get a free homecooked meal!” Fiddleford talks over his shoulder as he starts back toward the kitchen, calling a sweet “Go make yerself comfy first!” as sounds of a knife against a chopping board resume.

Ford explains the way to the attic and your shoes make the stairs creak a little, but all-in-all the home looks cozy. You settle in a little bit, placing your suitcase under your bed after fishing out a fresh shirt and pulling your hair up into a bun. The smell of whatever Fiddleford is cooking wafts in and your stomach rumbles, reminding you that you haven’t eaten since starting your drive from Portland. You smile at the thought of meeting the man. Definitely a sweetheart, but not from around here, you think, if that accent could tell you anything. Something he said, however, makes you even more curious. Ford mentioned a lab assistant in his card, but Fiddleford mentioned another guest to make food for.

You jump when you hear the door downstairs slam shut, a gruff voice saying something to the other two, and though you can’t quite make out what they’re saying, you hear laughter. That must be them.

You give it a couple of moments before you come back down the creaky steps, peeking your head around the edge of the bannister to see Ford and Fiddleford sitting at a table with their backs to you, chuckling to one-another between bites of food. At one end of the table, facing you, is--Ford? Your eyebrows fly up in surprise as you get closer, but when you open your mouth to ask something, you notice the double has only five fingers. He stands, a dimple prominent at his cheek as you approach. Ford never mentioned a brother, let alone a damn twin.

“Stan Pines, good t’meet’ya, toots!” He grins, shaking your hand quickly before plopping back down into his chair. You stammer a little before giving your name, his forwardness taking you slightly off guard. Ford explains that his brother has been staying with them, only beginning after he’d sent the initial postcard and you nod, smiling kindly to him and mumbling a soft, pleased to meet you, Stan. Fiddleford chuckles at your side, patting the chair beside him. “C’mon, get eatin’ before it gets cold, huh?”

You smile and sit down, digging in. McGucket says it’s got some local veggies in it, and damn is it good, especially after having not eaten for hours. You just nod and keep eating, careful to not make an ass of yourself.

Fiddleford asks a few questions about your time in college and you answer between forkfuls, teasing Ford with an anecdote or two about the girl you tried to get him set up with who he got too nervous to call again, or the time your mutual professor had asked him if he’d ever permed his hair. He flushes red and laughs, just like he did back then, and you grin with him. It’s great to catch up with him, and the way McGucket laughs with him makes him feel like an old friend, too. Stan twists his fork into his plate, a little quiet. You can see him looking at you from the corner of your eye, and when you turn to meet his gaze, you smile, tilting your head at him. I bet you have plenty of embarrassing stories about Ford too, you say, almost more of an invitation than a statement.

When Stan smiles, his dimple reappears, his suave demeanor returning as he gives you a wink and nod. “Wouldn’t be a good brother if I didn’t indulge in terrible stories of my dorky twin, would I?” to which Ford snorts a laugh, trying to hide his wide grin with his hand as he rolls his eyes, “Oh God Stan, please don’t.”

Stan breaks into a (possibly over-exaggerated?) story about Ford, the same sheepish and smiley boy you met years back, standing up to a bully they had when he was a kid. It’s cute to see Ford so bashful, chuckling and interjecting corrections as Stan grins and ignores his brother. Stan knows how to tell a story though, even with Ford trying to argue between words. He has Fiddleford laughing, and you’re smiling too.

Something about his grin makes something in your chest heat up, and you feel the blush rising on your cheeks when he does a double-take, catching your stare focused on him. His smile breaks into a soft laugh and you join, looking down at your hands in your lap rather than the other men at the table. At the corner of your eye, you catch your research partners sharing a glance, but they don’t say anything.

“Anyway, ah, it’s gettin’ kinda late.” Stan says, his voice a little quieter than before. You look up at him and now he’s staring, and it’s his turn to turn a little pink in the cheeks as he rubs the nape of his neck. He picks up used plates from the table, glancing to meet your gaze and mumble a thanks as you hand him your own. Stan moves swiftly toward the sink then, ignoring the questioning look Ford gives him and trying his best to ignore the smug smile creeping onto Fiddleford’s features as he starts to distractedly wash the dishes.

“W-Well, ah, yes. It is getting late,” Ford agrees, glancing to you before pointedly nudging Fiddleford, ridding the lanky man of the smirk curling at his lips. He’s a little bewildered at...well, whatever the hell just happened, but Ford gruffly clears his throat and nods to you. “You should get some rest. I’d like to take you through the forest tomorrow so you can see some of what F and I have been researching.” You nod at his words, rubbing the back of your neck like a scolded child as you feel the flush of your cheeks only deepen in color.

I’m excited to get started with you three tomorrow, you smile as you stand from the dining table, looking between Fidds and Ford before straining your neck to catch Stan’s gaze as well, not wanting to leave him out. Stan raises his brows as he looks at you from over his shoulder, a little surprised to be included but the tell-tale dimple appears on his cheek once again as he smiles warmly over to you, nodding. “We’ll see ya in the mornin’, toots. Go get some sleep.” He almost looks like he wants to say something else, lingering eyes locked on your own as his smile softens, and he turns to face the running water of the sink once more.

Fiddleford ducks his head slightly to interrupt your gaze once Stan is turned away again, his grin kind but with a hint of amusement at the edges. “You’re welcome to come ‘n bother us for whatever you need--I’m sure at least Ford and I will be up a few more hours.”

You nod with your own polite smile, reaching to touch Fidds’ arm thankfully before pulling away, moving past the table toward the living room. I appreciate the dinner, Fiddleford! I hope breakfast is just as good! You call the words over your shoulder and the men chuckle as you wave your way from the room and back toward the stairs. They really are a nice bunch, you think, albeit a little ragtag. But, such is the life for this field of work. You avoid a few more of the creaky stairs this time you go up, starting to map which of them squeak under your weight.

As you finally reach your room and shut your new bedroom door, you take a long breath, resting your head back against the cool wood of the unpainted door, breathing in your new home for...well, as long as you can study the anomalies Ford had mentioned. Moving around to get ready for bed, you stop for a moment to lean against the triangular windowpane, catching the astounding view of a not light-addled sky and a streak of the Milky Way. Breathless, you watch the stars glitter from the opposite side of the pane of glass separating you, deciding then that you could really get used to living like this.

#nic's fics #stan pines #stan pines x reader #gravity falls #[mr. mystery]#hi! i'm alive!#i'm gonna try to update this story weekly! it's a slow ass burn lmao #as always come send me messages and requests and such!#ok bye for now!

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deepslateemeraldore · 4 years

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Peach (one shot)

Reddie

Inspired by “Peach” by The Front Bottoms and that one textpost that said “when someone writes Reddie shotgunning they’re not the only ones getting high” or something like that

3.4k words

E / fluff / drug and alcohol use (weed)

It’s the end of everyone’s first semester of college, and the Loser’s congregate at Mike’s to celebrate.

It was common for Eddie Kaspbrak to fall asleep on his friends shoulders during long car rides. And with his head on someone’s lap, legs sprawled out on a loser’s couch. And, on rare occasions, cuddled up to Richie in his bed after a long night. He’d wake up to tangled limbs and Richie’s warm breath tickling the back of his neck, an arm draped lazily around Eddie’s mid section. And if he were to be completely honest, Eddie was the happiest to feel the warmth radiating off of his best friend upon waking up.

On this particular night, the two boys had been at the Hanlon residence, partying with their friends to celebrate the end of their collective first semester of college (they had all decided to get general ed out of the way at Bangor CC, not ready to move away from their hometown just yet). Beverly and Bill supplied alcohol, Stan and Mike prepared dinner and snacks, and Ben, Richie, and Eddie himself were in charge of baking and dressing a cake for the celebration (Ben and Richie were great at eating baked goods, but needed Eddie’s guidance and direction for creating something edible). The night pulled on like any other of their parties, full of shrill shrieks and laughter, the sounds only amplifying with the added effects of rum and beer.

By ten PM, Ben had fallen asleep at the kitchen table, moments after the cake had been cut and served with seconds and thirds. Bill, Stan and Mike helped Ben to Mike’s room to sleep off the IPA’s Bill supplied (he’d only had four, but he was always a lightweight). Eddie poked at the crumbs of remaining cake on his and Richie’s shared plate.

“I tried to tell him to take it easy tonight,” Bev began to speak, eyes following Stan keeping Ben balanced out of the kitchen.

“But the boy just wants to party hard.” She smiled, turning her attention to Eddie.

“The cake was amazing, by the way. I’ve never had a peach pound cake,” Eddie blushed, dropping his fork on the plate. “I could eat that for the rest of my life.”

“Hey, I made the cake, too!” Richie chimed in, feigning hurt that Bev ignored his help in the production. Eddie gave him a poke in the ribs with his elbow, Bev chuckling at the interaction.

“Thank you, Bev. I can give you the recipe if you’d like. I made a few tweaks, but I can write those down, too.” Eddie smiled at Bev, pushing his chair back to stand up in search of a pen and paper. Richie followed suit behind him, the chairs legs scraping on the linoleum.

“Speaking of peaches,” Richie pointed to Eddie’s ass, smirking, earning a cheap snort from Bev. “This plum’s gonna have a smoke.” He announced, walking out of the kitchen and into the living room.

“If anyone cares to join their dear friend, I’ll be in the back.” Mike reappeared with Bill hot on his heels. Bev stood up to follow the boys, nudging Eddie as she passed behind him as a way of saying “join us”. He finished scribbling ingredients down and grabbed a bottle of water before rejoining with his friends outside.

The aroma of shitty weed made Eddie scrunch up his nose upon first contact, his lungs feeling a little heavy, too. He watch Bev hand Bill a lighter as he made his way over to stand next to Richie. He smiled up at his best friend, earning a smile and a wink back in return. Eddie was grateful that the backyard was dark and wouldn’t expose his flushed face and ears. He heard the click of the lighter and watched Bill take a long hit from the joint in between his lips. Bill smiled as he exhaled, passing it to Mike. Then Mike to Bev, then Stan came outside to join them and took two hits before passing it to Richie. Feeling like time was going by oddly fast, Eddie took a step back, watching as Richie held the blunt between his long, nimble fingers, taking the longest drag yet. However, as soon as Richie pulled it away from his lips, Eddie felt everything go in slow motion.

The cloud of smoke coming out from Richie’s nose, only to be sucked back in through pursed lips shouldn’t have made him appear more attractive to Eddie, but somehow it did. Butterflies wrestled through Eddie’s stomach and up to his chest, swarming around his heart before settling in his throat.

“Is today the day, Ed’s?” Richie asked, holding the damn thing out to Eddie. He shook his head and pushed it back towards Richie.

“Sorry, I don’t want your cooties.” Richie snorted at Eddie’s retort, passing it back to Bev. She took one last hit, motioning to Bill to come over to her. He obliged, and Eddie tried to look away as he parted his lips, close enougb to kiss Bev, as she blew the smoke into his mouth. The interaction made Eddie feel anxious but curious, having seen them do this a million times but still coming as a shock every time.

The night had winded down from there. Bill fell asleep on Mike’s couch as soon as his high kicked in, which was Mike’s cue to call it a night. Stan stayed up a while longer, chatting with Bev and Eddie (and ignoring Richie, who kept trying to get Stan to moon Ben and Mike, who were both asleep in Mike’s room, for a keepsake photo opportunity), before falling asleep himself on the couch next to Bill.

“Ready to make like a banana and split, my dear friend?” Richie asked Eddie as soon as Bev had joined Stan and Bill to make a trio of couch sleepers. Eddie had started to yawn, and nodded to Richie who was shaking Bill awake to let him know they were heading out. Bill planted a kiss on Richie’s cheek before erupting infinity quite giggles. He waved as they left the front door of the Hanlon residence.

Eddie wasn’t even close to being tipsy, a stark contrast to Richie who was crossfaded and giggly, and took on the role of navigator for their walk home. Eddie walked behind Richie, watching from the sidewalk as his friend tried and failed to walk a straight line in the gutter. The back of Richie’s head was bobbing up and down with his steps, curls bouncing with his body. It amazed Eddie that he hadn’t fallen down yet. He smiled as Richie tried to walk the line again, feeling grounded and warm that they got to share these moments together.

The walk wasn’t particularly long or far, but Eddie had lead them on the scenic route, trying to milk the amount of time he could have with Richie before they’d pass out from exhaustion. He was back to feeling like time was passing too quickly, although this time was due to being deep in thought about how much he cared about Richie, how much he loved him in every sense of the word.

The butterflies in his chest were gone, now replaced with angry wasps making a nest in his heart. He thought about college, how he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to try and attend a university because community college was pretty decent. But the loudest thought (pun intended) bubbling in his brain was that maybe he did want to get high tonight, and maybe he did want Richie’s cooties. But he also didn’t want to say this to Richie and make him think that Eddie only felt this way because of their friendship, that his feelings were a buffer to hold him over until he met someone who deserved him. Before he could expand the idea mentally, Richie spoke up, breaking Eddie’s train of thought.

“Hey, Ed’s,” Richie pulled Eddie’s sleeve, turning to face the smaller boy.

“Are you scared of vampires?” Richie asked, his tone so serious that Eddie couldn’t help but laugh. He kept walking, but Richie, anchored in the asphalt, held him back.

“I’m serious, are you?” He asked again, Eddie’s expression dropping from content to cross.

“No, Rich. I’m not scared of vampires. Why are you even thinking of th- OUCH!” Eddie cried out, confused because Richie had just lunged at him, sinking his teeth into Eddie’s neck. “What the fuck, Richie?!” Eddie shoved Richie’s hold on his arm off, staring at him in a jaded disbelief.

“You said you weren’t scared of vampires, and I may be a lil drunk, but I wanned to see if you were scared of me ’cause I’m a vampire now.” Richie’s words were slightly slurred, and his logic was flawed, but Eddie could see something in Richie’s eyes, an emotion that he couldn’t make out. They seemed to say “don’t be mad at me”, with a hint of “I need you to give me attention”, which in turn kick started the anxious feeling inside Eddie once again.

“Oh shit, you’re bleeding, oh shit,” Richie launched back at his friend, gently pressing two fingers to the small pool of blood above Eddie’s collarbone.

“WHAT?!?” Eddie panicked, pushing Richie away again, feeling his neck for himself to discover the tiniest wet spot. There couldn’t have been more than a pinhead of blood actually coming from the world's smallest cut. Relieved that he wasn’t bleeding bleeding, he picked up his pace, walking with a little more urgency, Richie following.

“I’m sorry, Ed’s. I’m really sorry, I was just trying to be funny,” Richie apologized from behind Eddie. Normally, when apologizing for “being funny”, Richie was not truly sorry. But his tone this time around sounded sincere. If Eddie could compare it to anything, it would be the tone a guilty dog would use if he could apologize to his owners for knocking over the fish tank if said dog could talk. It made his stomach tighten up.

“Rich, it’s okay. It’s a tiny cut, and I’m not really bleeding at all.” Eddie tried to sound soft, to show that he wasn’t angry, but his words came out more sad than anything. “I’m not mad at you, I think I’m just kind of… in shock, I guess, that you did that.” He sounded even more uncertain. He reached out to touch Richie’s shoulder as an act of forgiveness.

“Once I get it cleaned up I’ll be fine. I promise.” His smile matched his eyes, and Richie lit up a bit. Eddie beamed, earning a giggle from his friend, and in that moment Richie looked absolutely angelic to him. The street light illuminated the taller boys face, highlighting every imperfection that Eddie secretly loved looking at, and bringing a sparkle to Richie’s eyes. Eddie looked away when he felt blood rush to his cheeks, guiding them up the block silently.

Originally, Richie had planned on staying at Mike’s with the rest of the guys, but changed his mind after hearing Eddie mention that his mother didn’t want him to sleep over if there were going to be girls at the party. Somehow, he had convinced Eddie to come and stay at his house because there wouldn’t be girls and Sonia somehow agreed. It wasn’t until the two had made it to Richie’s house that it came up.

“I just realized, you could’ve lied all along and said that you were gonna stay at my place from the beginning. She’d be none the wiser.” Richie whispered as the two of them made their way up to his room. His parents were in bed and the lights were off. Eddie followed him up the stairs, not speaking until they were in his room.

“I guess.” Came Eddie’s response, quiet and soft.

“Here, let me get an alcohol wipe or something to clean your neck with.” Richie rushed to get the words out. Not waiting for a response from Eddie, he turned on his heel, back out the door and into the bathroom. Eddie had left an emergency first aid kit under the sink years ago, insisting that it was for Richie’s own good, that he’d be prepared if he fell off his bike.

Richie flipped the light switch on, glancing at himself in the mirror above the sink, taking in his appearance. Bags under his eyes, shaggy unkempt hair with a touch of fizz. He looked haggard from partying. He shook his head and opened the cabinet to get the first aid kit concluding that it didn’t matter if he looked like shit because Eddie was there to sleep, like he had time and time again in the past. This was no different. He flipped the light off before rounding the door and practically sprinting back to his room.

Eddie was standing in the same spot, still as a statue. Richie cleared his throat before closing the bedroom door behind him. Eddie jumped, startled, turning to face Richie.

��Rich, it’s fine. It doesn’t hurt, it stopped bleeding forever ago.” Eddie reached for the first aid kid despite his words. Richie opened it himself, grabbing an alcohol wipe and packet of hydrocortisone, holding them between his teeth as he set the small box down on his bedside table, out of the way.

“C’mon. I got it, it’s fine.” Eddie nodded at his friend, stepping closer to him, hoping that Richie wouldn’t notice his rapid heartbeat and breathing pattern.

Richie took the packages out from his teeth. Opening the wipe first, he lightly tugged Eddie closer to him, giving it a quick rub (a wince from Eddie at how cold the cloth felt on his skin) before doing the same with the cortisone. He swallowed hard, as did Eddie as he pulled his hand away from his neck, dropping the packets into a trashcan opposite his nightstand.

“All better.” Richie’s voice cracked. “Doctor Tozier completes another successful surgery!” His voice doesn’t recover, shame tugging at his tongue. Eddie cracked a toothless smile, more present in his eyes than lips.

“Thank you.” Eddie took a step back, cold air rushing around Richie as he moved. His voice was soft and silky and continued to ring in Richie’s ears as he walked to the far end of the room.

It made Richie’s stomach do weird things, his voice. The voice Eddie used when it was just the two of them wasn’t something new, he’d been using it forever. And it had tied Richie’s stomach in knots just as long.

Richie changed into pajamas after taking everything out of his pants pockets, back to Eddie as he did the same. They’d sit in Richie’s bed and talk about random shit, classes and stupid people they’ve met. It was routine. It all was, down to them laying down next to each other, back to back, waiting for alcohol tainted sleep to take over. He’d fall asleep after Eddie, feeling safe only when soft snores and deep breaths were the only sounds he could hear. He prides himself on this routine, keeping him safe from doing anything regrettable. They’d been in this situation time and time before, and every morning they’d wake up the same. Richie was on the brink of sleep when he felt Eddie roll over to face him. This isn’t routine.

“Rich, are you still awake?” Eddie’s voice was like silk, a little deeper than usual. Richie’s eyes shot open, while the rest of his body was frozen.

“I… I think I did want tonight to be the night.” Eddie whispered, lack of context making Richie shoot up.

“W-what?!” Was all he could muster out, blood rushing from his hands and legs, going tingly.

“The night I got high for the first time.” Eddie was even quieter, and Richie slid back down onto his pillows in relief (it was secretly disappointment). Ah.

“Oh. Okay.” Richie responded, a pregnant pause causing his nerves to act up again. He tried to level out his breathing as sly as possible.

“Richie,” Eddie spoke, breaking the silence. He shifted his position, leaning on his left arm and looking into Richie’s eyes. “Will you get me high?” The question sent shivers down Richie’s spine, and he couldn’t sit up fast enough (whether it be fear or excitement he couldn’t tell).

“How do you want to do this?” Richie croaked out, voice rough with sleep he hadn’t gotten. He pulled the shared blanket over his lap, bunching it up just in case his hormones betrayed him. There was another pause as Eddie thought it over.

“Do you want a bowl? A rip from the bong? A baby joint?” Richie offered what he had to Eddie, waiting for him to make a decision.

“Can you do what Bev did to Bill that one time?” Eddie asked meekly, his eyes traveling to a loose thread on the blanket. Richie blinked. And blinked again.

“You… you wanna shotgun?” He asked, not quite meek but not quite hopeful. Eddie kept his gaze down, nodding.

“Yeah, I guess. Bev said it’s not as bad.” Shyly, Eddie looked up at Richie, cheeks flushed and eyes dewy. Richie modded a few times to himself.

“Yeah. Okay. Yeah.” Richie leaned over to his nightstand, one foot on the floor for balance, opening the drawer and pulling out his rolling tray, papers, flower, and grinder neatly sitting on top of it. He could feel Eddie watch his every move, nose scrunching up at the smell as soon as Richie opened the dimebag of pot. Mindlessly, he put a little in the grinder, getting a paper when he was ready, and rolled (in Eddie’s mind) a perfect joint. He put everything back in its place on the tray before putting it back in the drawer, pulling out a lighter and old dirty ashtray. He looked at Eddie again, catching his eyes to ask “are you sure?”. Eddie nodded, and watched as Richie lit up with shaky hands taking the first hit for himself.

Eddie watched patiently as Richie inhaled deeply, shifting himself to lean against the backboard before exhaling, smoke drifting out his nose up into the room. He held the joint over the ashtray on his nightstand, ashing it. Eddie watched Richie’s Adam's Apple bob and he pulled the joint back to his lips, before inhaling whispering:

“Come here.”

Eddie scooted closer to Richie, heart racing not only because Eddie Kaspbrak was about do a drug (besides that placebo shit his mother had forced on him since his youth), but because he was going to have his lips mere millimeters away from Richie Tozier’s.

Richie took a long drag, holding the joint in between the fingers of his left hand, his right reaching to cup Eddie’s cheek. He rubbed Eddie’s bottom lip with his thumb and leaned in, blowing the smoke between Eddie’s partially opened lips. If I lean any closer, I’d be kissing him, Richie thought.

And as if Eddie was some sort of fucking mind reader, he leaned into Richie’s lips, kissing him. It felt natural, like he was meant to. He wrapped one arm around Richie’s neck, the other feeling around and grabbing hold in his hair. He could feel Richie smile into the kiss as he leaned over to put the joint out in the ashtray, pulling Eddie down with him, and back up. Richie pulled away for a moment smirking at Eddie.

“You’re not supposed to blow it back into my mouth, dumbass.” Richie joked, hooking his left arm around Eddie’s waist. He smiled, Eddie smiled back, and before they could get back to their previous position, Eddie laughed.

“Well maybe if you gave me instructions in the first place,” he started to poke, no malice behind his words. Richie laughed, leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek, eyes heavy.

“Honey, I’m a little stoned, I’m not trying to start an argument with you. Shut up and kiss me.”

The next morning, Eddie woke up tangled in Richie's limbs, as he had numerous times before, but this was intentional. He felt lips on the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry that you’re a little…uh… y'know.” Richie struggled to say bruised, but Eddie already knew, and he didn’t care. He turned over to face him, planting a lazy kiss on his best friends lips to shut him up.

Richie rested his forehead against Eddie’s, reaching for a hand to intertwine his fingers with. Eddie opened his mouth to speak.

“As long as it’s you, I couldn’t be happier.”

#fanfic #fic #ficlet #oneshot #reddie #it (2017)#it (2019)#it #it (am)#it (film)#richie tozier #eddie kasprak #losers club #ship #richie x eddie #reddiecore #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak

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girlsgonemildblog · 3 years

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It’s Sexist. The Commercial, The People, All of It. - Emily in Paris, Episode 3 Recap (Spoilers!!)

Poster from IMDB

Let’s begin with the obvious; Sexy or Sexist sounds like the title of a “think-piece” written for a college newspaper by a freshman who is just starting to learn about feminist critique and has yet to take any actual journalism courses. This terrible title isn’t helped by the fact that the characters say it no less than four times in the episode. Roll credits, and your eyes.

The amazing Kate Walsh reappears after being missing since the first scene of the first episode. Emily brags to Madeline about how amazing it is to work in Paris -- you know, the job Emily lowkey stole from her? Kind of rude, but not that I wouldn’t expect it from her. Also, apparently, they have urinals in the middle of the streets of Paris? I can’t imagine that’s correct, but I also don’t care enough to look it up. Feel free to let me know in the replies.

As Emily makes her way home after her run (Why is she always running? Who runs this much?), she stops to take a picture of three women smoking outside a gym. At this point, 90% of her Instagram feed is just her shaming people who are just living their lives. Mind your own business, Emily.

Emily’s water goes out, and we are once again reminded that she is a Karen because she yells at her super, despite the woman not speaking any English. Instant karma comes through, though, as she then has to wash her hair in her bidet. After that, she goes to a French class (which isn’t a very good one) and wears her worst, most touristy outfit yet -- a red beret and a handbag with the Mona Lisa on it. I shit you not.

After class, she runs into Sylvie on her way to work. Just as I was thinking that I need a Sylvie hair tutorial, Sylvie roasts Emily’s hair, as well as her shitty Instagram account. I’m beginning to stan Sylvie.

At work, her coworkers have been sent the “commandments” of her company back in Chicago, and they are rightfully angry about them. Imagine if your boss was like, “you can never be negative ever, no matter what.” That’s some bullshit. Especially when they phrase it in a kitschy, condescending tone of “thou shall not” or whatever. Fuck off.

Emily and Sylvie head to a commercial shoot, and the actual plot of the episode begins. Yes, it has taken this long to get to the plot, but don’t worry, it won’t last long. Somehow, Emily has gotten all the way to the actual shoot without knowing the concept of the commercial - a naked woman walking down the street as men ogle her. Thus begins a conversation between Sylvie, Emily, and Antoine about the male gaze and sexism versus sexiness. The entire premise of this episode is dumb because Paris exists in the same world as America and has the same internet that we do. They even had their own version of #MeToo, which is referenced in the episode, Balance Ton Porc, or “reveal your pig”. Nonetheless, the writers decided it would be believable that this commercial was being made in 2020.

During the conversation, Sylvie reveals that she doesn’t consider herself a feminist, making me like her a lot less. Also, Antoine basically gets Emily to give in by saying that desire is a sign of respect, and women wish for a look of desire from men, which made my blood boil. I promise, when I am walking down the streets of New York and some creepy man whistles at me, it feels a lot more like a nightmare than a dream.

Anyway, back at her apartment, Emily’s maintenance man cannot fix her shower and does not speak English, so Emily decides to make this Gabriel’s problem, despite barely knowing him. Because the maintenance man does not have the right part, she has to shower in Gabriel’s apartment. For some reason, she brings only a skimpy bathrobe and not a change of clothes for when she finishes, as one does when showering in a stranger’s apartment.

Later in the episode, the commercial is previewed for the team, and it sucks, sexist or not. It was like stock-footage vomit turned into a perfume ad. The group cannot decide if the commercial is sexist or not (it is), so they decide they’ll tweet it out with a poll and let their consumers decide. This may be the dumbest marketing strategy of all time, possibly topping the vaccine one from the previous episode. Why would you even suggest to your customers that your company is sexist? Like, where is the positive in that?

After work, Emily goes to a “dinner party” that Mindy is throwing in her employer’s apartment, without their permission. This is a ridiculously dumb thing to do, but it’s even dumber to throw an actual party party, which is, in fact, what Mindy does. Based on this show’s vibe so far, though, I doubt her actions will have consequences.

Emily arrives at the party carrying the same ugly bag from the last episode, only in a different color (colors?). She meets a man named Fabien, who I think we’re supposed to find attractive, but he’s not, and they leave the party together. The conversation between the two is horrible and awkward, even before Fabien tells her that he “likes American pussy.” Because pussy is unarguably the worst term for the vagina, Emily gets disgusted and leaves.

In the final scene, I was shocked to see Emily was wearing an actually cute outfitinstead of her usual monstrosity. To close the episode, in what seems to be an attempt to prove he isn’t sexist, Adrien sends Emily, a woman who works for him, lingerie. I sincerely hope the next episode starts with her suing him, but somehow, I doubt it.

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garazza · 4 years

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Action Comics #1022 Review

“The House of Kent: Part 1″

Starting off, we have the 9-panel grid. Because Tom King likes to use it to show off that he read Watchmen (before promptly abusing the layout to death), everyone and their mother has been scrambling to shove it somewhere in their work and try to get a useless amount of perceived street cred to show that they too had read Watchmen (killing the layout even more). Since it’s all the rage, Bendis does it here.

I actually like the third panel. As Stan Lee said, every comic is someone’s first comic (and this is the first chapter in a “highly” anticipated arc). Instead of an editor’s note, Bendis explains Kelex through dialogue that is expositional but not unnatural or clunky. But why explain Kelex of all things? My answer is well, why not? Supposedly, Conner is as unformed about a lot of things as is a potential new reader and Superman informs him in a manner that is not entirely out place, even to current readers.

Then Conner explains his origin and touches upon the fact that we’ve had a few different continuities since his creation in 1993. He is excited and curious in the first four panels and then immediately deflates in the last four. I think Bendis is trying to have the best of both worlds by writing both an excited Conner (something that fans are supposed to respond positively towards) and a depressed Conner (because he has been a victim of the discontinuity perpetuated by DC editorial and made no better by Bendis).

We get a double-page splash of the two Kents conversing that I like, especially the color of the Fortress. The conversation is very Bendis, but not offensively so. It serves its purpose, can’t be too upset about that. He tries to depict Conner as nervous, but I really hate how it’s done, it’s like reading an accent phonetically.

uwu what’s this? A fundamental misunderstanding and misinterpretation of a character? In my Bendis book? It’s more likely than you think.

Conner has literally never been little. He was created as a teenage clone of Superman and he stayed a teenage clone of Superman. He came out the test tube the punk Metropolis Kid, not the toddling Metropolis Tyke. A really big conceit of his character is that he will never look older or younger than a teenager. That’s why a lot of eyebrows were raised when in his first reappearance Bendis chose to depict him with stubble.

Another example of Bendis-speak that is fun and full of charm and character, but the characterization for the characters who are conversing is just…off. It’s a conversation these types of characters would have, just not these characters specifically.

You know, for a character that supposedly Bendis hates and wants to write off and make inaccessible to all other writers and artists, he sure writes about Jon a lot. Bendis forces Jon into the future, cutting him off not just from everything he knows and loves, but from, more importantly, the readers. This reinforces the gravity and seriousness of him being written off, but Bendis constantly undermines this hostage situation of his own creation by having him come back to the present quite often. You put characters on a bus to make them go away forever, but the bus keeps returning to the station. And the most baffling part? You’re the driver, Bendis! Commit to the fucking bit!

Jon and Braniac 5 are chumming it up, because they are toooooootally buddies, you can read alllllll about Jon’s actual, very real, and totally not non-existent friendships with the Legionnaires in Legion of Super-Heroes by Brian Michael Bendis and Ryan Sook, because Jon totally has finished watching the Legion orientation film that totally didn’t take more than 5 issues to even get him to watch and he wasn’t even interrupted once. The book is soooooo well developed and evenly paced and not at alllllll bloated behind belief.

Jon acts like he came home from college to do laundry and eat some home cooking and forgot to call ahead, like he totally isn’t supposed to stay in the future.

Me, too, Conner. I don’t know who this character is either.

We also get to see his new costume here, which I hate. The one positive thing I could say about this new character when he was first introduced in Bendis’ Superman run was that I really liked his costume. It had the cyber-armor look of the New 52 Superman suit, but wasn’t too over-designed. It worked, it looked cool. This new look is just kinda bleh. It has the ugliness of the New 52 with none of the intricacies that made it look cool and unique.

We were never going to any meeting between the two Superboys that can even remotely be called good or worthwhile. I appreciate the naiveté of certain fans who enjoy things at face value because, factually, they got what they wanted. Fans wanted this meeting and they got it, which will make the happy, but it is not at all satisfying, which is what they should care about.

Bendis has a firm understanding of Superman and his voice. The same cannot be for Jon Kent. This character is not Jon Kent. He is not written out of character because this is not his character. What we got here is not what we wanted. This is Bendis and DC editorial banking that fans will rationalize to themselves that the crumbs they deigned to give fans is actually a feast worthy of praise and exaltation (look no further than Superman #16).

Oh and by the way, this is all we get for the meeting. The rest of the issue is “wHaT’S ThE DeAl cOnNeR KeNt?”

I’m skipping over the Daily Planet stuff because I don’t care about it and it doesn’t piss me off.

Instead, I will quickly address this: “The rumor come out, does Jonathan Kent is gay?”

I want to say this came about because Jon called Conner’s leather jacket “fabulous”, but it seems this idea existed before this issue was even released. The most I can find in relation to Jon being gay is this article written 2016 and this funny little exchange in the comments of one of Bendis’ Instagram posts.

I knew I was not straight when I was in grade school and it would be amazing if such a high profile character like Jon came out. It would normalize the idea that being gay isn’t something exclusively sexual or adult, but that there is nothing wrong for kids to have feelings for someone their own age who is the same sex. But I don’t trust DC to even attempt this. If they can’t even make Dick Grayson bi, then it’s not likely for any other character to come out.

And just because he described something as “fabulous”, that doesn’t make him gay. It’s an odd choice of words, sure, but word choice is no real indication of sexuality. In an interview with ComicPOP, Todd McFarlane described a box for a figure as “sexy” and “sassy” that I might have instead referred to as “cool” or “awesome.” I think Todd’s word choice is oddly fitting, but it was not something I would have thought to use before hearing him use it in the interview, and it does not at all call into his sexuality. I have a similar sentiment about “fabulous.”

Back to the story, Superman takes Conner to meet some of the intellectual experts in the DC universe to help figure out his deal. They have some “fun” Bendis dialogue and touch upon the multiverse and continuity that Bendis has been helping shape even though he literally has never worked for DC until very recently, relatively speakingm and yet is being trusted with the word “crisis.” And what do you mean you’ve been rebooted at least three times, I thought it was seven times according to Young Justice #1, one of the first issues Bendis wrote for DC.

I saw a Reddit post a little while back that compiled clues and subtle hints that were spread out among several titles, including Tom King, Scott Snynder, and Bendis’ various books, that tied them all together with Doomsday Clock. It demonstrated a remarkable amount of coordination that I thought impossible given who it involved, but the evidence was pretty convincing. However, this was before Dan Didio was fired and they were able to avert 5G. Now that they’ve had time to regroup, I think this issue is sowing some more of those seeds that’ll eventually be dealt with by Synder’s Death Metal.

Here’s some more of that fundamental misunderstanding and misinterpretation of a character. Conner was not “raised” by the Kents. They cared for him, sure, but I wouldn’t call what they did raising.

What is being referred to here is Geoff Johns’ run with Conner Kent in Adventure Comics which took place in 2009. What that contributed to the character was only a relatively recent development in Conner’s history. It should be noted he started living with the Kents in 2002. His solo book was cancelled with Connor being dropped off by Clark at his parent’s house on the very last page. Any sort of “raising” would have occurred off panel during that time and is largely not expanded upon because there was literally no book to depict that kind of relationship until after he had died in 2006 and was brought back in 2009. They are not the sole contributors to his life like it is implied here. He lived in Hawaii and worked for Cadmus for far longer than he lived with the Kents.

And here we have Jon casually referring to Ma and Pa Kent as Grandma and Grandpa like he actually knew them instead of just knowing of them. For those of you don’t know, they were dead when Tomasi and Gleason were writing Superman and were only just recently brought back in Doomsday Clock which concluded well after Tomasi and Gleason had left the book, so Jon never met them. At the absolute most he’s heard stories, looked at pictures, and seen home movies of the Kents. You could say I’m nitpicking, but Bendis deserves it. You can feel his disregard for others’ work throughout his other books, and its panels like this that are the proof.

Jon literally has no reason to know that Ma and Pa Kent are alive. No reason. Jon’s smug face is Bendis’ way of say “Aren’t I a stinker?”

Fuck. You. Bendis.

You do not get to pretend that stories you made impossible to tell of Jon spending time with his grandparents actually did happen. Is this interaction cute and fun and a little bit wholesome? Yes. But is it genuine? Absolutely not. He’s just trying to cash in on what he thinks fans want to see with none of the heart and soul.

And now Clark is acting like Jon is visiting from college.

Piss your pants, Bendis. Jon would never refer to his best friend Damian Wayne like that. If someone else referred to Damian like that when Jon was around, he would correct them and say something along the lines of “He’s not so bad once you get to know him.” Stop pushing the narrative that Damian is some sort of demon hellspawn or psycho killer. He’s a flawed kid with a dark past that wants to be better but struggles with it and needs friends like Jon to support him. This continues to show that Bendis literally does not understand this character and why fans get upset when he writes him this way.

Another 9-panel grid, but this is not Tom King-inspired, but actually befitting the moment. Bendis still think Conner was literally raised by the Kents instead of just living with them, but I really have no skin the game of Conner being recognized as a part of the Kent family, so this doesn’t piss me off much.

I know this is supposed to be emotional because they just reunited, but the dialogue seems to suggest something more ominous and insidious is going on, something bigger than any one of them (Crisis, I know, but its kind of obnoxiously on the nose and yet unnecessarily vague).

The issue actually ends with the story I don’t really care about, so that’s the review.

Note: I realized about part way through writing this post how pissy and whiny I might sound, but I spent too much writing it to not post it.

#action comics #superman #conner kent #superboy #jon kent #legion of super-heroes #brian michael bendis #clark kent #brianiac 5

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babygirlofwakanda · 5 years

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Rule The World | Prologue

CHARACTERS — Adrien X Chiron

CONTENT — Nothing to see here, yet.

PLOT — The introduction of Adrien and Chiron.

Inspired by the song, Cell Therapy X Goodie Mob.

NARRATIVE — The slouched figure sitting at the chipped table dominated the space of the midnight diner as groups of local college students whispered, waitresses winked and even the lingering prostitutes dared to glance at him instead of keeping a close eye on the brick of money resting between their fingers.

Disregarding the stares the deep earth-toned male aggressively scraped his fork against the aged plate as he chomped down on the soaked waffles and thin hash browns. Wearing a prominent scowl refusing to reveal his gaudy slugs or show any satisfaction from the breakfast filling his stomach Chiron stayed quiet as he ate. Concentrating on his food the silent man exhaled as the quiet night and almost dull scenery helped the tensed male forget about the adamant sins he had his team committing while he detoxed.

Taking away from his underlining stress the slow diner eased Chiron’s mind as the setting distracted him from the imprinted vision of wiping the crimson blood dripping from his glock while the deep aroma of coffee replaced the poignant smell of marijuana.

Drowning his thoughts with the bitter taste of coffee sliding down his throat Chiron exhaled and rolled his shoulders once he attained a level of content. A level where he could tolerate the punishing outcome from his ruthless decisions without being in an alternative state of mind. Clenching his teeth against the silver fork, Chiron chewed on his soggy waffles before he heard a distinct chime followed by an abrupt gasp echoing throughout the southern restaurant.

“—breaking news, there are reports of multiple gun shots fired at popular nightclub, Mansion Elon. We are now receiving word that we have channel 2’s Monice standing outside of the club right now.”

Silencing the diner within seconds Chiron turned his head towards the point of focus and stared silently at the television as the news reporter hinted at one of his intimidating tactics gone wrong.

“—yes, Vivian. I’m outside and as you can see from behind, the ambulance is here assisting those injured and the police have blocked the entrance to the club.

“—and as of right now we have learned that there were four gunmen involved and that there are two casualties reported at this moment.”

While he vaguely listened to the news Chiron quickly slid his vibrating phone out of his back pocket before unlocking the device with his thumbprint. Tapping on the lime icon he watched as the messages continued to vibrate his phone. “—shit.” Black exhaled roughly, before he continued to spit out harsh curses.

Attempting to get information about the coercion Black didn’t register the adamant bell of the diner’s door opening before the obnoxious clacking of heels and chatter filled the southern restaurant. Lifting his eyes off of the phone for a second Black quickly took notice of the mahogany beauty sitting at the barstool with her attention captured into her own phone. Clad in a black dress he observed the material stretching over her curves, but just as his eyes began to travel further down to glance at her plump ass his phone vibrated again with an update to the shakedown.

Immediately looking back at his phone Black read the latest messages from his second in command, Dolla before he abruptly felt his repressed mindset switch back into the murderous temperament.

The character that became completely enthralled with unloading a clip into someone’s child, the man that thrived off of the taste of the backwood hanging from between his lips and the individual who became enamored while he watched digital zeros appear and double up as money flipped through his machine.

With his heart thumping intensely in his ear Black abruptly stood up creating a loud screech as his chair slid across the faded tile. Disregarding the nosy looks shot his way the alarmed man reached into his wallet and threw down more than enough money to cover the bill before making his way around the table and heading towards the exit until the low revelations coming from the counter caught his attention.

“—bitch, I told y’all that nigga looked crazy. If we woulda dipped earlier like I said so we wouldn’t of had to duck from dem’ bullets in the club!”

Halting his footsteps Black listened to the women’s conversation before they absentmindedly confirmed that they were at the same club as the shooting.

Approaching the counter Black cleared his throat making his presence known as all four women talking instantly flicked their eyes towards him. “—we’re y’all at Mansion Elon tonight?” He questioned, as his eyes fixated on the angelic face of the brown beauty.

Hearing the studdering replies from the women until the one sitting closest to him timidly nodded Black began to press for information. “Did y’all just so happened to see who was the nigga shootin’?”

With the question lingering in the air Black watched as the women shared a puzzled look with each other before the anonymous beauty spoke. “Why should we tell you? So you can stalk us or toss our bodies into Lake Lanier or a dumpster? Nah, play boy.”

Cocking his head to the side Black watched as she bought her glass up to her lips with a smirk tugging at the corners. Keeping his eyes fixated on hers Black heard her friends apologize for her response, “Adrien can be critical at times, but we swear she doesn’t mean any harm.” they elaborated, making Adrien scoff at their apparent bullshit and bluff.

Watching her scrunched facial expressions Black chuckled lowly at her answer before slowly brushing his palm over her mouth. “No, babygirl here is right. Y’all don’t know me from a hole in the wall and I understand, so y’all be stay out here aight.”

Timidly shifting away from the countertop Black maintained his gaze with Adrien leaving her with a look of hesitant before he turned towards the door.

Only footsteps away from the entrance Black heard the annoyed tone of voice call out to him. Showing off a glimpse of his grillz he paused his movement before turning around and seeing Adrien swiveled around in her chair with a smug smile on her face.

Huffing out she began to detail the self-proclaimed shooter, “The man was wearing a tan shirt with these big ass rocks in his ears. Oh, and he had a baguette pinky ring.” She winked. Faltering in his footsteps Black was surprised that she knew her diamonds.

“How do you know it was a baguette?” He asked, hands still pressed against the handle. “I know my jewelry.” She smiled, before steadily licking the top row of her teeth showing off the small shiny gems.

Raising his eyebrows Black nodded his head in gratitude before yanking the door open and maneuvering through the second one.

Making Adrien frown, she watched as his broad shoulders bounce until his figure escaped the dim lights of the diner. Feeling herself began to wheeze from the loss of his presence Adrien let her curiosity get the best of her and before she could even blink she was fumbling out of her seat disregarding the calls of her girls and jogged out of the restaurant before spotting Black and calling out to him.

“—hey, you! Wait up.”

Watching the brawny back pivot around Adrien caught the amused look on his face before she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Ahh, now look who’s stalking who.” Black mocked, failing to hold back his grin. Poking her hip out in her stance Adrien scoffed before smacking her lips to say, “Nuh-huh don’t get smart with me baby, I just came to see what’s your name, damn.” She asked, with a tilt in her head.

Smirking at the agitated beauty Black chuckled in her face before saying, “Your cute.” before turning around and walking back to his all black nineteen seventy-eight Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme.

“Cute? Nigga I’m a dime, please.” Scrunching up her face Adrien flipped her ponytail behind her shoulders before twisting around. Walking off with the clapping of her heels hitting the pavement trailing behind her, Adrien heard the baritone voice answer, “Chiron.” making the brown woman instantly turn around.

Nodding her head she repeated his name before saying, “Hmm, I like it.” She cheesed. Still smirking she began walking backward as she continued to talk to the enticing man, “Aight, well I’ll catch you around Chiron.” She spoke, as her eyebrows quirked. Seeing the cocoa colored man faint dimples reappear under the hazy post light Adrien heard him call out, “—be safe out here babygirl.” before ducking into his car.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Calling all the Trevante stans! If you wanna be added or removed from the taglist for my upcoming Hood!Chiron fics and mini-series just message me to let me know! Much love bbys!

TAGLIST — @thegucciwaffle @chaneajoyyy @madamslayyy @nickidub718 @yofavcocoa @halfrican-heat @amethyst1993 @trevantesbrat @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @jaeee-http @melaninmarvel @supersizemeplz @storibambino @great-neckpectations @royallyprincesslilly @idilly @bartierbakarimobisson @iamrheaspeaks @jozigrrl @yaachtynoboat711 @randomwordprompts @s0eul @90sinspiredgirl @bbyxgall @destinio1 @uhlxisback @soldierandawar @blackgirloneshots @maya-leche @theblulife @pupyluv247 @champagnesugamama @wakandan-flowerz @hutchj @determinednot2fall @melanisticroyalty @cay-cah @royallyprincesslilly @ljstraightnochaser @alexandrite2001 @kayah16 @oceanscorazon @brittyevans @queennanayaa @blackpantherimagines @ashanti-notthesinger @theunsweetenedtruth @tiffitoocute3787 @eerythingisshaka @wakanda-inspired

#brwnsugababe #Trevante Rhodes #Trevante Rhodes Fanfiction #Trevante Rhodes X Reader #Chiron X Adrien #Chiron X Reader #Chiron X Black Reader #Chiron X Black!Reader #Chiron X Black Oc #Chiron X Black!Oc #BabygirlOfWakanda

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popliar · 5 years

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junghope fic links

disclaimer - this is all a bit random, I bookmark so many things and sometimes I don’t remember what I actually thought about them… But they are all readable and worth a click imo.

other posts: fic links

Something About You - poltaeroid Hoseok/Jungkook. "Jungkook likes things that shine. Hoseok is definitely one of those things." sweet college au. 5900 words.

for you i would cross the line - starbrigid Hoseok/Jungkook. "'I've had a crush on you since before we debuted, but I've only just realized I'm in love with you.' The one and only J-Hope has acquired a secret admirer in BTS. He's in London, and it's time to play Sherlock Holmes. ...It goes about as well as one might expect." I thought the characterisation was all really good except for the sex scene which was too hard stan for me lol, but ymmv. 9600 words.

Two, Then Two - bambambams (phanjessmagoria) Hoseok/Jungkook, Jimin/Seokjin, Hoseok/Jungkook/Jimin/Seokjin. "“It’s not anything against you—” Jungkook said, tone flat. “Except it is, though?” Hoseok replied, and he could tell his voice was still edging on angry instead of how he really felt, which was hurt. “You want to try swinging.” “Ok, don’t call it swinging? It makes you sound like a 45-year-old married white guy.” “Well that’s what it is.” “That’s what it is, but just don’t call it that.” (That's exactly what it is. And it's exactly what happens.)" the focus is junghope. 15,500 words.

petals and thorns - ffairyy Hoseok/Jungkook. "Jungkook shares a tiny apartment with his best friend and muse Hoseok. But Jungkook also has to share his muse with another artist." Hobi and Tae are fuckbuddies and JK is jealous. 6600 words.

twitter au Hoseok/Jungkook. "hopekook/junghope au where jungkook freaks out about hoseok all the time and the rest of bangtan is just there to watch him crash and burn"

your favourite worst nightmare - deuxoiseaux Hoseok/Jungkook. ""Hey," [Jungkook] says, in as comforting a voice as he can muster. He's a bit raspy from groaning and screaming all day, but he makes an attempt, at least. "Hey, it's okay. You lost your friends? Did you get separated?" ... The man nods miserably. or the one where jungkook works as a zombie in a haunted house at an amusement park and accidentally scares the pants off hoseok" 4700 words in 3 chapters but appears to be updating every now and then.

at least i got you in my head - ameliabedelias Hoseok/Jungkook. "But that was Hoseok for you. The living embodiment of Really Cool Hyung. The one person who did everything with ease and put everyone around him at ease. In other words, the perfect person to practice kissing with. // (Or, Jeongguk asks Hoseok for kissing lessons and It's All Downhill From There.)" perfect. 8700 words.

grand pianos crash together - pearl_o Hoseok/Jungkook. "The search results for "how to romantic" aren't very helpful, but Hoseok's gonna do his best anyway." Very very sweet. 5000 words.

Born to Run and Built to Last - theskipper Hoseok/Jungkook. "The best way to get over his crush on Hoseok would be to befriend him. Sure, they were friendly, but that was different from being a friend. He was friends with Namjoon, Jimin, and Taehyung, and he didn’t want to pin them against the wall and lick a line down their chest." JK has been in love with dance trainer Hobi since he was a trainee. 29,700 words.

a hopeful kind of dance - ffairyy Hoseok/Jungkook. "When Jungkook joins the dance studio, Hoseok takes him under his wing the way he does with everyone who's new." 4500 words.

drip drop - momentsinlove Hoseok/Jungkook. "“So um. What did you mean the other night when you said Hoseok would love an alpha like me?” Jimin looks up from stretching, a wicked grin slowly appearing on his face and Jungkook knows this won’t end well. “Let’s just say he likes his alphas a little more docile. Obedient.” Jungkook wants to protest that no, he’s not like that, but then he thinks about his own jerk off fantasies and he knows he’d only be lying to Jimin and himself. He likes the idea of being told what to do, he likes he thought of focusing his efforts on pleasing his partner. He wants to be good, god he wants to take care of his omega in every way possible. or alpha jungkook wants to be babied a little and omega hobi is more than happy to do that." 7500 words.

not a booty call - ffairyy Hoseok/Jungkook. "They’re still themselves, still friends, still all those things they need to be during the day.Right now, they're also a little in love." 3700 words.

your love is bright as ever - brightlight Hoseok/Jungkook. "It shouldn’t be a big deal. So Jungkook’s family didn’t seem particularly crazy about him — is that the end of the world? (Maybe, his brain supplies traitorously.) ++ Hoseok gets worried, Jungkook eases his mind, and Hoseok decides to put his energy into more important things (namely, using some of the first free time he's had in weeks to kiss his boyfriend instead of overthinking.)" sweet. 5300 words.

touch, my love. touch my heart. - jellyfishes Hoseok/Jungkook. "Hi guys,” Hoseok says, voice loud in Jeongguk’s left ear as he whispers into the microphone. “It’s me, your hope.” The voice is in his right ear this time. Jeongguk’s toes curl as his scalp tingles pleasantly." hobi does ASMR. 9000 words.

You're Beautiful And Sick, Like Me - nunu_noodles Hoseok/Jungkook. "He closes his eyes tight and tries not to think of the desperate man locked in that little room with his dark, dark eyes. Hoseok hugs Jimin close and makes a wish hinging on years of fear that this was going to be goodbye. Love me. Stay with me forever. Love me. His Revelation is too new, roaring in his blood like a flash flood, pounding in his ears. The sensations are too new - he thinks his newly made wall is safe and secure. He doesn’t understand what it is when his body obeys his wish and pours it down into Jimin, doing all it can to make the wish come true." really liked the way each person manifested powers and the slowburn pine from Jungkook. the sequel has hoseok/jungkook/jimin. it’s got a distinctly dark edge to the worldbuilding and some choices the characters make, if you’re into that then this is ambitious and great. 51,600 words.

on the edge - mysoulrunswithwolves Hoseok/Jungkook. "Hoseok is the reigning US wakeboarding champion, unrivaled in the sport. Jeongguk is his biggest competitor, if only Hoseok had any idea who he was" 15,000 words.

In Fear and Faith - im_your_hope Hoseok/Jungkook. "It's hard to shake something that is already under your skin." showers and bed sharing. 4800 words.

From The Moment The Lights Went Out - myadamantiumheart Hoseok/Jungkook. "The wolf comes to his door at night, and Jungkook always lets him in. He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t. But he always opens the door- the balcony door, where Hoseok appears with his grin glowing in the moonlight, like the Cheshire Cat leading Alice further into the forest. Jungkook wonders if Hoseok really likes him, or whether he just likes the fact that Jungkook will let him in, feed him, and then let him fuck Jungkook into the mattress." Trans JK. Hobi is secretly a vigilante. 9100 words.

spring and, by summer, fall - bizzanus Hoseok/Jungkook. "The new tightrope apprentice looks at Hoseok like he's made of stars." very good circus au. 28,100 words.

Like Snow, Like White Ashes - ashardoffreedom Hoseok/Jungkook. "“I’m not sure if there’s an easy fix.” Do you want me to help you fix it? Jungkook looks up at the ceiling. It’s very white. It’s very pure. “Hyung, maybe you’re not supposed to.”" jk comes to terms with being asexual. 4500 words.

of white lies and autumn leaves - ffairyy Jungkook/Hoseok. "“Fuck that,” Jungkook slurs. “I’m not less grown up just because I haven’t had a relationship yet. Right Hyung? It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t make me uncool.” or the pretend dating fic where the boys make fun of Jungkook for being inexperienced and Hoseok jumps to his defense" VERY SWEET 34,000 words.

Perfect Ten - bugarungus Hoseok/Jungkook. "If Jeongguk can bowl a perfect game, he wins twice." Cute! 2500 words.

Wake - AlixSkyeDawg Taehyung/Seokjin, Namjoon/Jimin, Jungkook/Hoseok. "Hoseok was close, close enough for Jungkook to admire the shape of his face, the smoothness of his skin, the thick fringe of lashes along his cheeks, his lips, slightly parted and far too inviting. Before he could think about it too much, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Hoseok’s." island holiday soap opera! 72,100 words.

It's Time to Love You - eightninetwo Hoseok/Jungkook. "Hoseok's fine with his life, all things considered. What he's not fine with, is the reappearance of that one almost-boyfriend who certainly looks More Than Fine right now." oh no he's hot. 7300 words.

i'm smiling, he's living, he's golden - Chlexcer Hoseok/Jungkook. "They are the base of a mountain. A fucking mountain. Now, Hoseok enjoys nature. He likes parks and he loves the beach; he likes playing on the snow, and he loves flowers. But mountains? Not his cup of tea, exactly. (Throw Jungkook into the mix, and it's a whole different story.)" 5400 words.

share my life (it's yours to keep) - momentsinlove Jungkook/Hoseok. ""You know, maybe we should just get married," Hoseok says. Jungkook nearly chokes on his water that he's got to his lips and in his his haste to put it down he bangs his knee on the underside of the table. When he looks at Hoseok with wide eyes, Hoseok is staring with a smirk on his face, chin propped up in his hand. Jungkook realizes that Hoseok is joking of course, no one in their right mind is going to marry someone after two hook ups (even ones that were mind numbingly good) and one date. Except when Jungkook sort of thinks about it, the idea of marrying someone, anyone, has his heart skipping a beat or the ridiculously long fic where Hoseok and Jungkook fuck a lot and are super romantic. All they wanna do is get married." conflict free but very readable. 13,700 words.

One in a Million - momentsinlove Hoseok/Jungkook. "In fact it's nice when Jungkook ends up in Hoseok's bed. Hoseok won't say he gets lonely easily but it's been tough ever since Jimin officially moved out. They'd sometimes just lay in each's other bed, watching a movie or talk about their day and Hoseok misses that. Jungkook does a good job of filling in when he stays over, always ready for a good cuddle session and he's so fucking clingy but Hoseok loves it, adores the way Jungkook clings to him like a koala. It's not even sexual either. They've never fooled around despite their closeness and when Jin asks, Hoseok is honest in saying no, they've never fucked, never even jerked each other off. Jin looks at him like he's lying but it's the truth. Even though he's an alpha and Jungkook's an omega they have never been around each other during their heats and ruts so it's never been something Hoseok has had to think about. or Jungkook shares Hoseok's bed more often than not and realizes that maybe they are meant to be mates" a/b/o. 10,100 words.

the stars are brightly shining - monbon Hoseok/Jungkook, preslash. "Sometimes Christmas doesn't go the way you expected. And sometimes that's alright. or, Hoseok always spends winter break on campus. This time, Jeongguk joins him." 5300 words.

Blanket Kick - nunu_noodles Hoseok/Jungkook. "It takes 2 hours and 40 minutes for the train from Busan to get to Seoul Which means Jeongguk is going to meet his online boyfriend in 2 hours and 40 minutes Time moves both too slowly, and far, far too quickly He checks the time quickly. 15 minutes to go. Holy shit. Holy. Shit." 34,700 words.

where the light can't reach - undercoverjikooks Hoseok/Jungkook. "Sometimes he would cry for no reason on his bed at two in the morning because his heart felt empty in certain corners, like the light of all of the good things in his life couldn’t reach quite far enough to fill those dark places. or, alternatively, Hoseok is scared of contentment." Hoseok stays at Jungkook's b&b, and they fall in love. 9600 words.

One Fear - Jajungmyeon Jungkook/Hoseok. "Good-looking men did not scare Jeongguk. They... overwhelmed him... with their daring beauty. They brought out the boy in Jeongguk. And Jeongguk was not a boy. He was a man who had a job and paid taxes. He was a whole grown up. Well, not as grown up as Yoongi who could clean his bathroom without dry-heaving once (but that was because he was on a completely different level, a grownup- old man edition). Jeongguk had not made it through college and student loans and paychecks to regress to boyhood simply because a gorgeous male looked his way." very readable tho i mean there's some workplace bullying. 4300 words.

i never felt nothing like that, looking at you looking right back - jellyfishes Hoseok/Jungkook. "“Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t look good on you. Jeonggukie is an innocent baby.” Hoseok’s smile widens. Jimin jabs a finger into his chest. “You stay away from him, hyung.” “He’s so cute, though,” Hoseok whines, and he’s grinning now. “Jimin, you know I can’t resist it when they’re cute.” or, hoseok likes cute boys, and jeongguk is very cute. jimin probably never should have introduced them." cute. 9300 words.

you got me catching feelings - momentsinlove Jungkook/Hoseok. "Jungkook and Hoseok decide to hook up as just bros until they start to catch feelings." soft and porny. 10,000 words.

blue flame special - nonheather Hoseok/Jungkook. "hoseok just got dumped and now a clearly under aged bartender is refusing to serve him a much needed round of shots. ("can you do this teenage angst thing some other time? my ex just walked in with his new boyfriend and i could really use some liquid cowardice." the kid narrows his eyes in the direction hoseok had nodded toward. "seokjin hyung's your ex?") hoseok nods. "you know him?" "yeah," jeongguk glares at hoseok and begins stepping away, definitely refusing to serve him any drink at all. "he dumped me for you.")" this is a melodrama with all the ups and downs and twists and turns, but it's riveting and addictive in that way too. cw for jin's past (abuse). 106,300 words.

Serendipity - redhowler Hoseok/Jungkook. "Hoseok is an architect with an eye for art and Jungkook has a masterpiece painted on his back." 8000 words.

a hold on me - CaptainButts Jungkook/Hoseok. "hoseok moves into a new neighborhood, meets his questionable neighbors, and rekindles an old love." 13,000 words.

pas de deux - peachtae Jungkook/Hoseok. "dancing with jungkook has always come naturally to hoseok." from childhood to old age. 7700 words.

Tryna Count Me Out - freelancejouster Jungkook/Hoseok. "Who even does that? Just — just goes around kissing random strangers? And okay, maybe it was to save him from looking like a fool in front of an entire stadium of people, and maybe he liked it a little bit too much, but was Hoseok going to admit that? Not likely.(Aka Hoseok gets kissed by a cute stranger on the kiss cam and can’t get the memory of vanilla Chapstick and soft lips out of his mind.)" 5000 words.

there's a galaxy between you and me - venenumm Hoseok/Jungkook. "Jung Hoseok, best ship pilot in Seoul, hell, in Korea. Together with his exceptional crew, they travel the stars, gathering and delivering goods for clients. But they always return home, always back to Seoul. And Jung Hoseok's fate drops into his lap in Seoul, aptly named Jeon Jungkook. or space pilot jung hoseok meets android jeon jungkook and things happen." 5700 words.

tryna act nice (boy your cover's blown) - blvesey Hoseok/Jungkook. "jeongguk smells like a whore, but he isn't one. hoseok looks like an asshole, and he absolutely is. but he's nothing if not a good sportsman, and so he's always willing to reward effort." street racing au. 6400 words.

Mountain Dew Me? - ecrivantkazl Hoseok/Jungkook. "“Pop my cherry?” No hello, no customer service smile, not even a what can I get you? His tone is even, eyes wide and growing wider, and he is about two seconds from swallowing his whole entire body head first. He should have stayed in bed this morning. "Pardon...me?"" bartender au. 4600 words.

The Moment I Met You - lonelyonion Hoseok/Jungkook. "Jungkook has a newfound fascination with the idea of marriage, but it seems like his boyfriend of six years, Jung Hoseok, does not share in his fascination. Or, Jungkook kinda wants to be a married man, but somehow things are going a little differently than he'd hoped." 4700 words.

Call Me Baby - MarionetteFtHJM Hoseok/Jungkook. "Jungkook was a badass dude. He was a leather-wearing, motorcycle-riding, no-nonsense-attitude dude. There was absolutely no reason for him to be acting like a damn blushing virgin. Especially around Jung Hoseok, the dude of his dreams- not that he’d ever tell him that, no sir-e." 3200 words.

stitch me up (you're so pretty) - jjks Jungkook/Hoseok. "“Embroidery,” Jeongguk repeats. “I’m gonna join an embroidery class,” his voice trails off a little at the end, losing some of its vigor and quieting down when he realises it’s stupid. So stupid. Even stupider when spoken out loud." 10,200 words.

A Sheep in Wolf's Clothing - blimpish Jungkook/Hoseok. "When Jeongguk decides it's time to live out his fantasy of being knotted, he determines that Hoseok is the best (read: least awful) candidate for the job." a/b/o and dancer au. does interesting things with the trope. also, hot. 35,000 words.

Gotta Hand It to You - freelancejouster Hoseok/Jungkook. "Hoseok was trying to think of living by himself as an adventure, a new experience, something to look forward too. He hadn't thought it'd be like this." maknae line are neighbours. Hoseok has a crush. 19,000 words.

F is for Figure It Out, Kiddo - exfatamorgana Jungkook/Hoseok. “Crying and Pining and Growing the Fuck Up: A Life-story in Stages” childhood friends who eventually become something more in late 20s. 10,400 words.

to the places you will be from - krisssy Jungkook/Hoseok. "jungkook accidentally adds hoseok on snapchat" Cute. 4300 words.

The First and, Hopefully, the Last - wingedseok Jungkook/Hoseok. "Hoseok is seventeen years old, has known Jeongguk ever since the bunny-looking kid was born, and he has never been kissed. Luckily, his dongsaeng knows exactly what to do." 2000 words.

DOES/DOES NOT - Jajungmyeon Jungkook/Hoseok. "Jeongguk thinks Hoseok likes him. Hoseok thinks Jeongguk does not like him. They are both wrong and get yelled at by Yoongi." fun story about 'does hyung really like me or is it just his normal skinship.' if you roll with the jk characterisation, this is so fun, 20,000 words.

Bloodflows - mnsg Hoseok/Jungkook. "Sharing a bath at 3AM with all 178cm of Jeon Jeongguk is at least one of Hoseok's ideas of torture." 2200 words.

On My Life (I Swear) - Sevensoulmates Hoseok/Jungkook. "Hoseok had no idea what he got himself into when he befriended a random stranger that day on the street. He hadn't thought anything of it, even though it kind of was a bit of an unusal circumstance. Still, how was he to know that the boy was the President's Son, the most hidden and protected person in all of the country? Not until the day he walks into his new job as a bodyguard and gets chained to the boy himself does he realize that things are about to get a little fucked up." a big long soapy bodyguard AU. 113,100 words.

bone + tissue - minsfw Jungkook/Hoseok. "jungkook is a student of photography; hoseok has really soft lips." This is good. 10,400 words.

Dance With Me, Hyung - TheHalesNyx Jungkook/Hoseok. "Kook convinces Hobi to take him along when he goes out dancing one night. Must include: "Are you drunk?"" 11,400 words.

eventually - yoogni Jungkook/Hoseok. "jeongguk turns his head to see someone who is almost definitely the most attractive person he's ever seen. his hair is soft, his eyes are bright, and his smile is somehow heart-shaped. not to get ahead of himself, but jeongguk is very possibly in love." Jungkook is really really shy. 5500 words

one shot (is all i need) - kaythebest Jungkook/Hoseok. "Jungkook wants to be a bartender. If he wants anything else, well, that's just a bonus." 6300 words.

these spaces between infinities - astringxnt Jungkook/Hoseok. "because the truth is that we're always finding sanctuary in unfamiliar places, trying to caress warmth into fires." Fwb, Jk takes Hoseok home for the holidays. 9000 words.

come across the kitchen to me - Acavall Jungkook/Hoseok. "Jungkook is jealous. Jungkook has no right to be jealous. Jungkook is an idiot. In which Jungkook and Hoseok are roommates and Jungkook wishes they were more." 3000 words.

bored stiff (out of my brains) - loafers Hoseok/Jungkook. "Jungkook gets bored. The devil finds work for idle hands." PWP. 3800 words.

another life - Acavall Hoseok/Jungkook. "Jungkook and Hoseok talk alternate realities amidst fake kitchens. JungHope fluff from the day they went to Ikea in Sweden and then nearly got arrested for setting off the fire alarm." sweet. 2700 words.

Fall and Recover - exfatamorgana Jungkook/Hoseok. "Behind closed doors and in foggy mirrors, Jeongguk and Hoseok learn that sometimes, falling together is just as easy as falling apart. And it's so much nicer. i.e. in which they're both dance majors and Hoseok is the TA for Jeongguk's performance workshop." 75,100 words. Also has a sequel, 150,000 words.

all the world's noise - astringxnt Jungkook/Hoseok. "in between late night dance practices and Thursday study dates, Jungkook lets Hoseok teach him that love doesn’t have to be loud to be real." 7400 words.

vagabonds' chaos theory - astringxnt Jungkook/Hoseok. Secret agents au. Hoseok is Jungkook's mentor. 7300 words.

Lionheart - nivo Jeongguk/Hoseok. "The problem is simple, really: Jeongguk is cool, and Hoseok is... Hoseok." Hoseok decides he must bungee jump bc he's insecure about their relationship. This is adorable. 2000 words.

New Romantics - nivo Hoseok/Jeongguk. "Music majors know what romance is all about. (Jeon Jeongguk is not a music major. Neither is Jung Hoseok.)" 2800 words.

threesomes

2/2/3 - cobbleles Hoseok/Namjoon/Jungkook. "There is plenty of fish in the sea, two and two and three. Or: Hoseok wants to see other people and Namjoon agrees. Prompt - Secret Relationship." they're in an open relationship and both are dating jk, all three are dumb. 9900 words.

namkookhope au Namjoon/Hoseok/Jungkook. "NAMKOOKHOPE AU 💕 jungkook is looking for something casual, he signs up to tinder & meets namjoon. he’s in an open relationship and not looking for anything srs. so it’s fine if he starts sleeping w his dance teacher jhope too, right? what could go wrong?"

playing for your heart - umji Jungkook/Hoseok/Seokjin. "Jungkook should have known something was up from the way they were acting, they had been unusually quiet all night, sharing looks across the room when they thought he was caught up in his game. He didn’t quite know what he was expecting them to say - maybe they were going to elope? That seemed like something the pair of them would do - but he was certainly not expecting them to tell him they had signed him up for a dating game show." 17,100 words.

Harmless - Untested_Waters Hoseok/Jungkook/Taehyung. "Jungkook is fine, really. He doesn’t need Taehyung and Hoseok’s help. Except for the fact that he is absolutely not fine and really, really needs Taehyung and Hoseok’s help." Porn. 11,000 words.

Gushing Gold - syubology Hoseok/Taehyung/Jungkook. "Hoseok watches them, can see them through the opaque material, Taehyung's fingers tracing over the dark lines and swirls inked into Jungkook’s skin. His own hand resting where it fell onto the youngest's thigh doesn’t feel so chill all of a sudden when he takes a moment to think about where they are, what they’re doing, how it would look to an outsider: the three of them snuggled close, tangled limbs and heavy eyes and fingers sneaking under clothes. He tries not to think like that too often – how it looks, how it feels, how easy it’d be to poke at the boundaries, to be just as curious and daring as Kim Taehyung’s stunning fingers – but there’s something different in the air tonight." PWP. 19,900 words.

We Float - Icicles Hoseok/Jungkook/Yoongi. "Jungkook’s gaze on them is searing. She can feel his dick growing harder against the side of her thigh as he watches them. It’s good. It’s all good. It’s a lot. Just like a good distraction should be. OR Jungkook and Hoseok get sad watching Titanic. Yoonji is always a little sad these days. They try to find comfort together." 5900 words.

An Experiment in Threesomes - Only_A_Fangirl Hoseok/Jungkook/Yoongi. "Still. What does he have to lose? He’ll just tell them about his problem, like a proper dongsaeng to his hyungs, and maybe they’ll have a solution. And maybe that solution will be to have sex with him. Probably not. But maybe. So, he won’t just say ‘I want you to take my virginity’, he’ll just hope that they offer. He might also lose just a little bit of his dignity, but not much, because he’s sure they won’t make fun of him. Or, the tale of Jeongguk's virginity loss to Hoseok and Yoongi." it does have an open ending - but it's pretty great. 37,600 words.

and i'll smile upon you too - pearl_o Hoseok/Yoongi/Jungkook. ""what is going on right now?" yoongi says, still staring at hoseok. "i'm trying to communicate with you! like adults!" hoseok says. "you're doing a really bad job," says yoongi. "how did you picture this conversation going?" hoseok slumps until he's half lying down, letting his legs hanging over the edge of the mattress. "i was gonna tell you that i love you and that i want you to be happy and that i could be happy even if it meant...you know. sharing."" sweet! 5900 words.

Finer Than The Fine Arts - anonymousloris Hoseok/Yoongi/Jungkook. "Regardless, Hoseok and Yoongi had been best friends since they started college, and potentially for many years to come. If anything, it should be fun to have a blow off class together their senior year. Just one little fine arts class to graduate. An easy-peasy Photography 101. No heavy clouds on the sunny, blue horizon. That was, until they turned the corner and stepped into the classroom, their eyes landing on a tall, dark, and very handsome looking freshman sitting in the front row. They looked at each other and in unison said, "Dibs."" 9200 words.

put my favourite record on - umji Yoongi/Hoseok/Jungkook. "Yoongi never should have mentioned (admittedly he was drunk at the time so it was less in casual conversation and more of a secret confession that he’d whispered to Hoseok whilst he had been sat under the kitchen table) that he had a weakness for cute boys and great singing voices and cute boys with great singing voices." 7400 words.

Untraditional - TheHalesNyx Yoongi/Hoseok/Jungkook. "they're in this rare kind of alpha/beta/omega relationship but it's still super cute. Their different personalities work together perfectly but then omega Kookie's heat hits for the first time, since he didn't use suppressants for the first time." Yoongi and Hoseok are alphas, Jungkook is an omega. 14,100 words.

#bts #fanfiction #kpop #junghope #hopekook #just junghope things #fic links

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originalcuddlyporcupine · 5 years

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Basics;

Name: Rani Cooper Age: 18 Occupation: College Student Location: Upper East Side, NY Parents: Tessa Cooper + NPC Cristian Diaz

Bio;

Rani Cooper has all the confidence in the world. She's effortlessly cool, you know? Doesn't try to be but it just happens. She makes friends easily, loves to flirt (and she's very smooth about it, her mother's teen self would have wept with envy) and leaves every room dramatically. Her bio-dad is very much unknown to her and honestly, it's whatever. Her mom is also the coolest person ever (well, mostly. Tess is still a mess around pretty girls) and she couldn't have asked for more growing up. Besides, between her mom, her grandparents, her "aunt" Rose etc. she had plenty of family to choose from anyways!

Her mom is also a medical legacy. Daughter to Doctor and Doctor Cooper, it was only natural that Tessa went onto become a Doctor Cooper too. Now here's Rani, continuing the cycle of doom! Kidding, she frickin' loves medicine. She can't wait to get into an OR forreal even if it's going to take forever. Saying that, she did skip a grade in high school meaning that she graduated one year ahead of her friends which sucked but she's still in the city for college so. #winner

She loves to take risks. Be bold, make a splash and yeah, it's gotten her into trouble more than once. Usually it's her messy love life that takes the hit when it comes to this approach. Basically, if said person is Trouble with a capital 'T' then she's hooked from the minute they lock eyes. She thrives off disaster, apparently. Getting your heart broken is just life and besides, her mom is literally a heart surgeon; she could just fix it if things ever got too bad.

Does Rani have a big ego? Um, did Gossip Girl reappear after a million years of silence? Yes and yes. She treads the line between being Valid*TM* and pulling out some uh, weird flexes? Either way, she leans on her cute smile whenever she's called out for it. Rani can get defensive (snappy, even) about literally anything but don't worry, she is actually aware of how to chill.

Connections;

Besties from their respective births with Amber Dawson, obviously.

Her fave past-time is lovingly roasting Steve Hunter.

BFFs with Mateo Hastings.

Flirts with Chris Andrews 'cause she loves danger lmao.

Step-sisters with TBD Diaz since their parents started having a Thing*TM*. Tessa swindled Cristian into donating a ton of money to her hospital before he even knew what game they were playing.

Extras;

A sinammon roll if you can believe....

Will stop your heart but knows CPR, don’t worry!

#1 Tessa Cooper stan, loves her so much, has encouraged her to go on every date with every pretty person who’s made eyes but it was hard work until Cristian came along.

#tfr2gen #rani cooper #ME KICKING DOWN THE DOOR IN THE LAST LEGS LIKE #;o;

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resistancereborn · 6 years

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stozier as warring neighbours wc: 2586

He’s gonna lose it. He’s gonna lose it if that music doesn’t fucking stop, because he’s got half a dozen books to read for classes next week and there’s no way he can get through another page with this goddamn racket just above him thumping on the floorboards.

Stan slams his book on the floor and yanks tied his laces, each pull fuelled by his anger and rubbing burn into the sides of his fingers; it’s not worth his coat, and so he troops up the stairs in a Teleman T-shirt and extra soft jeans, a pink cardigan pulled over him to keep him warm.

The music only increases in volume and headache induction as he hurries up the stairs, his fingers tight around the banister. He thinks he might burst before he’s even reached the apartment above at this rate; he knew college wasn’t good for him. His stress levels are through the ceiling to the apartment above.

Gathering himself together and trying to scrape his wandering hair from his forehead, he rings the doorbell; it’s one of those stupid ones that goes on for far too long, playing some annoying little melody.

Nothing moves for a moment, and just as Stan lifts his hand to press the little button again, the door swings open.

The boy standing in the corridor is the same age as Stan, with blue aviator glasses and wild curly black hair that seems to move with him and also live a life of its own; it reminds Stan of a featurette he once saw about the film Brave and the lengths the animators went to to animate Merida’s hair, but seeing it in person is such a surprise that it stops Stan for a moment - that, and the fact that this obvious antagonist in his life is so diabolical that he’s even wearing a Hawaiian shirt like there��s something cool about it.

“Turn down your damn music,” Stan says sharply. “I have to study for my classes, and also, it’d be nice to sleep this century.”

The boy eyes him for a moment, then straightens and grins, wrapping an arm around Stan. “Man, you need a drink. C’mon in, lemme fix you something.”

Stan wants to object, but the music is so loud he doubts he’d be heard anymore - and, if he’s honest with himself, this boy is cute and he’s tired of studying. He indeed could use a drink, and so when one of those stupidly stereotypical red plastic cups is handed to him, he takes a drink of faith - it tastes a lot like elbow and he grimaces, but it also tastes so alcoholic that he swears he can almost feel the buzz already.

The boy laughs and raises his eyebrows at Stan’s scrunched-up expression. “You want some lemonade for that?”

“Please,” Stan groans, ignoring the clear amusement as the boy mixes down whatever the hell it is that Stan has just so confidently chugged a little too much of. He takes another sip once it’s been mixed together with the wrong end of a tablespoon, and this time it’s much more tolerable, and he even lets himself sigh softly.

“Rough time, huh?” the boy asks, guiding Stan through to a quiet sitting room; the rest of the house is throbbing with people flinging themselves around to the overwhelming beat, but this room is empty and even legibly quiet when the boy kicks the door shut behind him. “You the guy from downstairs? The sucker who cried cause you broke your favourite vase?”

Stan presses his lips together, but takes it. “Thank you for the glowing summary of my person - but yeah, that’s me. I’m Stan.”

The boy nods and goes in for what Stan assumes is a handshake but is actually a fistbump; the moment is so awkward that Stan downs the rest of his cup in one, waiting for the fuzz to take over his head. “I’m Richie,” the boy says to fill the glowering void of awkwardness, and Stan is thankful for it. “Your friendly neighbourhood neighbour.”

“Not with music this loud,” Stan says, deadpan, and Richie laughs so hard it almost startles him; wary of himself, Stan puts his cup down on a stack of vinyl records that have taken over one of the room’s few tables.

“You’re fucking ace, Stan. Stan the Man.” Richie grins, spinning the cup precariously in his hand. “I’ll turn it off. Later. I mean, you’re here now, right?”

Stan rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but if it weren’t for you I might be sleeping right now.”

“Why don’t you just go to sleep, then? I got blankets,” Richie says, maybe too earnestly; Stan shorts, and shakes his thrumming head. He’s never going to be able to sleep with this many people around and the music at this ear-splitting volume, so he might as well try and make something of this experience.

He shakes his arms off, lazily, the way he used to be made to do in choir to “improve the blood circulation”; this time, it’s instinct, or perhaps a moment he takes to gear himself up.

“No,” he says. “We’re going to dance.”

This is not Stan’s bed: for one, it’s not a bed at all - he can feel his shoulder jammed up against the back of the sofa; second, instead of his thick and gloriously comfy duvet, he’s covered in a series of thin blankets that aren’t tucked in properly and definitely don’t cover him completely.

He forces his tired eyelids open, and stares out into the sight of his party-loving neighbour sprawled out with abandon on the floor, snoring loudly, glasses askew. The light through the window is bright and reflects off him, giving him an ethereal glow Stan’s not sure he deserves.

With a groan, Stan sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he slings his cardigan over his shoulders; Richie looks too crashed out to wake, and it’s still early, so Stan leaves him be, tiptoeing across the floorboards and pressing the front door lightly shut.

The book is still on the floor in his apartment; tiredly, he picks it up, finding the page he left off at.

He next sees Richie when he ventures out later in the day for lunch - Stan’s out of Pot Noodles and microwave meals, and he’s saved enough money to buy himself a coffee, so he trundles excitedly across the road to their local Starbucks (which he assumes will soon become a godsend and a place where they don’t need to ask his name for the takeaway cup), shuffling into the lunchtime queue and trying to decide if he’s going to have an ordinary coffee or some variety of seasonal drink (what is a ‘cool lime refresha’, anyway?), only to bump right in the back of Richie, who spins around and grins sickeningly at him.

“Oh my god, it’s you!” he exclaims. “Where the fuck did you go?”

It takes Stan a moment to regain his composure, startled by Richie’s sudden reappearance (in Starbucks, of all places!). “Home,” he says. “To study. Which is what I was meant to be doing last night.”

“Study shmudy,” Richie scoffs, waving a hand. “You should come over again, c’mon! We could binge watch something and eat Cheetos. Have you ever seen Brooklyn 99? Oh, I got Baby Driver on DVD the other day, we could watch that!”

Stan attempts not to spontaneously combust on the spot; it works well, because he doesn’t burst into flame when he opens his mouth and says coolly: “look, I had a fun time last night and it was okay but I really have to study now. I want to do well. I’m just here to get some lunch right now.”

Richie tilts his head like a let-down puppy dog. “Classes don’t even start til next week, nerd! Can’t you spare the time for one movie?”

No, Stan cannot; he did not pay exorbitant amounts of money for class materials to not have them all read in time for classes starting. How he expresses this to Richie, he’s less sure, and with a sigh, he runs a hand through his hair. “I really don’t have time. Look, I’m sorry.” He feels bad, he does: Richie’s life can’t be peachy if his idea of fun is blackout drunk parties and watching movies with unassuming neighbours, but he’s determined. He got this far from home; he wants to see it through.

Richie chews his bottom lip, clearly scheming, and just as Stan is about to make his way to order, Richie grabs his arm. “If you come over and watch a movie with me, I’ll buy pizza. But not Hawaiian.”

Stan makes a face. “What do you think I am, a monster?” The idea of real hot food makes his stomach growl audibly, and with a sigh he makes sure to deliberately prolong, he nods. “Okay. Pizza and Baby Driver, but after that, please let me study in peace and don’t have any parties.”

“Deal,” Richie says immediately, jutting out his pinkie.

Between them, they order two twelve inch margheritas, dough balls, garlic bread, and two chocolate chip cookie dough puddings. Stan lays them neatly out on the table in the living room while Richie builds them seats of duvets, blankets, and pillows with fierce determination.

“Why do you want me to come and watch TV with you so badly?” Stan asks, setting their glasses of water (health is important) by the plate for the garlic bread.

“Cause I’m lonely,” Richie shrugs. “Only college that’d take me was up here, but I’m away from all my proper friends, y’know? It’s hard to get good bants with random assholes who just want to get drunk. And you’re pretty cute, too.”

Stan blushes. “I’m sorry, did you just ask me up here on a date I didn’t know was a date?”

“Fuck, he’s sentient! He knows!” Richie makes some sort of jazz hands of horror, to which Stan merely raises his unimpressed eyebrows. “Okay, fine, sure, I did. Go leave me for your shitty textbooks or whatever.”

“I’m not going to leave,” Stan says pointedly, “but maybe next time you ought to tell me it’s a date.”

“Wait a minute!” Richie gasps. “Are you already planning our future together? Man, and you thought I was bad! What are you, a gay oracle?”

Stan buries his face in his hands; this is going to be a long movie. “Please shut up, Richie.”

Richie does not shut up, not even during the movie, assigning himself an instant place on Stan’s never-take-to-the-cinema list; but his initially irritating chatter descends into the occasional boisterous joke and witty remark, and Stan finds himself becoming rather fond of Richie’s running commentary and sing-along tactics.

His fondness mildly decreases when Richie steals a piece of his garlic bread.

“Hey!” Stan objects. “You have your own.”

“Why would I eat my own when stolen food tastes so much better?” Richie snorts, tearing off a strip with relish; Stan rolls his eyes, sighing softly as he turns back to his pizza. “B’sides, it’s too much for you to eat all at once if you live on, like, Pot Noodle. I have good food. Oven food. You know, that kind of high-calorie bullshit that you put in the oven that keeps you alive.”

“I eat plenty of oven meals,” Stan objects. “It’s just… easier to eat Pot Noodle for lunch, alright? Don’t insult Pot Noodle.”

“Alright, Mr fucking Noodle. Didn’t know the two of you were that close.”

“I will go back to my fucking textbooks, Richie, and take my cookie dough with me.”

Richie gasps. “Heresy! We haven’t even made it to the scene with Hocus Pocus. You can’t leave yet!” He grabs Stan’s arm, not tight enough to hurt but enough to be very noticeable, and Stan turns, surprised; most people give Stan so much leeway that coming into contact with him would be unimaginable, and his stomach swirls in a way he’s not entirely sure he understands. “Come on. You gotta take a break, right? And why not take a break with me, the hot, handsome, and very personable Richie Tozier?”

“Because you’re an asshole,” Stan mutters, and Richie laughs, elbowing him before turning back to the screen.

Stan’s not sure that this is necessarily his kind of film (he’s a slow-paced independent film or Wes Anderson boy himself), but he hasn’t actually seen a film in ages: he’s been too busy moving in and packing and unpacking and trying to sort out his furniture and the paperwork and his college stuff, and so just the act of relaxing on the sofa with a slice of deep pan pizza is somehow almost cathartic. He doesn’t have to think, or read, or even really focus too hard - and it’s just like the party, where he let the world slide by him and did nothing but dance, not caring just how bad he looked in front of his stupid new neighbour.

Maybe Richie Tozier deserves a tiny bit of credit, he supposes. Annoying, yes; helpful, somehow also yes.

Much to Richie’s irritance, Stan falls asleep for the very last act, waking up just in time to save his cookie dough and for Richie to switch to an episode of the so-fabled Brooklyn 99. Shamelessly, Richie dives his spoon in and proceeds to eat Stan’s ice cream anyway, but Stan doesn’t mind so much; he feels well-rested this time, better than he did this morning, better than he would’ve with a Starbucks coffee and a too-hard toastie.

“So, are you gonna go back and study after this?” Richie asks, screwing up his face as the ice cream hits his brain slightly too fast. “Ow. Fuck.”

Stan holds in a laugh. “Yeah.”

“What kind of degree’s worth this much studying, huh?” Richie jabs Stan’s arm. “Let me guess. You’re doing a bachelor’s degree in Fucking Boring Studies.” Stan laughs, shaking his head. “Shit, no way! I thought I had it fucking nailed. Wait, let me try again. Bachelor’s in Ignoring The Lovely And Handsome Richie?”

“If I were doing a degree in ignoring you, I’d be doing it badly,” Stan counters, and Richie nods sagely.

“Good point,” he says. “Just proves how great I am, doesn’t it?”

“No,” says Stan. “Mostly, I just want to punch you.”

The desire to punch Richie Tozier in the face, though, manifests in Stan leaning across the space in between them and placing his hands on Richie’s cheeks, grinning in a way that’s half-manic and also half appreciative of everything that Richie has done (possibly unknowingly, but does it matter?), and kissing him; Stan doesn’t know if the taste of chocolate chip is lingering in his mouth, or if it’s Richie, or if that’s something that’s even important anymore as his mind turns itself over and over.

Richie stares at him, wide-eyed, and Stan feels the remark coming like an electrical charge in the atmosphere. “I fucking knew I was irresistible.” He can’t stop himself, either, from laughing, and he shifts closer to Richie, leaning their shoulders together. “So, you know, you think you might come over for lunch break again tomorrow? Since you don’t have to study all day…”

Stan laughs and shakes his head. “I’ll be here again tomorrow, but who said I wasn’t going to bring my books?”

Richie makes a face of shock, and because he can’t resist it, Stan kisses it, and feels a little more at home.

tagging my fave other stan fan @sunflowerstanley and @stanleyurisisalive and you said it was okay to tag you so i hope it is cause you’re awesome @wyattghouleff

#my writing #it #it (2017)#stozier #stanley uris #richie tozier #stan uris #i enjoyed writing this a lot #stan is just like oh my god why are you such an idiot but also a cute idiot #don't study stan! go dance with richie!

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amydiddle · 7 years

Note

domesticity prompt! 15 or 25 for gravity falls ship/characters of choice

NUMBERS25. Our baby going to prom

Gonna do some nice FiddleStan with Tate because I need more Stan and Fidds in my life. Bringing back Jane as well.

“Pa, Stop! Please!” Tate McGucket tried to push his father back as the man messed with his hair. The overgrown locks just flopped right back over his eyes despite the best efforts to push them back.

“It is a hopeless effort Fiddleford. If you want pictures you are gonna have to leave it.” Stanley Pines sat on a chair in the room. He had been watching the spectacle in silence for the past hour.

“Oh it ain’t that-” The man in front of the teen looked over at the clock and dropped the comb he had in shock, “Oh Lordy! You are gonna be late!”

“That’s what I have been trying to tell you!” Tate grumbled and grabbed his suit’s jacket from where it hung. He slipped it on over his shirt.

“Well ya should have spoke up!” Fidds rushed out of the room and there was the sound of shuffling papers and mumbled curses. “Stanley! Where is that dang camera?”

“I got it with me, ‘member?” Stan called back and made a show of rolling his eyes for the teenager in the room. With a grunt, the man stood up and slung his arm over Tate’s thin shoulders.

He led the boy out of the room and slowly down the hall.

“You got the flowers?”

“Yep,” Tate said.

“And you know to make sure that you get her back to the house on time.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And-”

“Dad!” Tate interrupted and stopped them at the front door. “I got this.”

Stanley frowned and narrowed his eyes at the teenager in front of him before sighed. Carefully he buttoned the top of the teen’s shirt and smoothed out the jacket.

“I know…I’m just turning into Fidds with all my worrying.”

“I heard that,” Fiddleford reappeared with a huff. He took the camera from Stanley and smiled at them both, “Alright. Smile you two. I need one picture before ya go and pick Jane up.”

Stan and Tate rolled their eyes in sync but humored Fiddleford none the less. Stan gave a thumbs up to the camera and whispered through his teeth.

“Just know that this night is either going to be the worst or the best thing ever…also don’t get punch dumped on you.”

“Wha-” the camera clicked just as Tate’s small smile turned into a confused frown.

“Alright! No more pictures, off you go!” Stan opened the door and pushed the boy out onto the porch. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Better advice, don’t do anything you think he would do,” Fidds commented.

“I won’t,” Tate sighed and hurried down the steps of the house towards his car. His parents stood at the doorstep and watched as the teen climbed into the car and left.

“There he goes…before ya know it he’ll be off to college.” Fiddleford sighed and leaned against Stanley’s side.

“Oh boy, don’t say that. You are gonna make me feel old,” Stan chuckled and wrapped his arm around Fiddleford’s shoulders.

“You are old,” Fiddleford chuckled, “Our kid is going off to his senior prom and you got gray in your hair.”

“Makes you old too.”

Fidds smiled and gently led them back inside. “Yeah, but I’m getting old with you.”

Stan stared at his partner for a moment with a soft smile before he snorted and shut the door. “Man that was cheesey.”

“Says you!”

“I am just stating facts, McGucket”

#gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls au #maybe #tate mcgucket #stanley pines #Fiddleford McGucket #fiddlestan #my writing #unedited #drabble

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vdbstore-blog · 7 years

Text

New Post has been published on Vintage Designer Handbags Online | Vintage Preowned Chanel Luxury Designer Brands Bags & Accessories

New Post has been published on http://vintagedesignerhandbagsonline.com/teenage-kicks-whats-behind-the-trend-for-scribbled-on-trainers-fashion/

Teenage kicks: what's behind the trend for scribbled-on trainers? | Fashion

There was a time when etching your current squeeze’s name, or maybe just an acid house smiley face, onto your Kickers in Tippex was the height of cool. This season, the fashion industry has taken note(s) and has been scribbling on its sneakers like it’s 1997.

Kim and Kanye’s customisable Yeezy Boost 350 V2s for kids, with “peace”, “love” and the names of their children written on them, sold out almost instantly when they went on sale last week – they have already been restocked. (It can’t have hurt that one-child Truman Show North West wore a pair of her own customised Yeezy kicks for a trip to New York’s Natural History Museum about a week before the drop.)

The new season Adidas Stan Smiths, complete with scrawled phrases such as “yes I’m crazy” and “nobody is perfect”, are currently on sale for $335 (£257). While the Vetements x Reebok Instapump Furies, featuring such choice phrases as: “I’m bored”, “full on life” and “so good”, as well as that old classic the CND sign, sold out in no time earlier this year, despite a £586 price tag. They came about a year after head Vetements designer and industry pied piper Demna Gvasalia was spotted wearing a pair of done-in Converse he had apparently scribbled on himself. Saying things such as “our alter & our hearts”, as well as the name of the Russian singer Zemfira written in Cyrillic, they looked like a particularly high-brow desk in any secondary school across the country.

Kanye West collaborator Virgil Abloh’s Off White label has recently collaborated with Nike on various written-on versions of their trainers. Bella Hadid last week stepped out in a pair yet to be officially released – “Virgil was here” was scribbled on their side. And Dolce and Gabbana kept the fashion industry on its toes with its studded autumn/winter collection sneakers embellished with phrases apparently designed to reflect millennial style, from: “I’m thin & gorgeous” to: “Sorry I’m the best”. Cue a collective facepalm at their misjudged attempts to mimic millennials.

Adidas Yeezy Boost 350 V2. Photograph: Adidas

Fiona Firth, buying director at MRPORTER.COM, where the Vetements x Reebok trainers “flew off the site”, describes how “what was once a school pastime to blow off some creative steam” has now become “a recognised artform”. We might not be talking Titian here, but there is a Keith Haring-esque impulse at play.

The links back to the DIY philosophy of the punk era are obvious. Denim jackets defaced with biros were an integral part of the punk uniform. Tony Glenville, creative director at the London College of Fashion, cites the fashion of this era in general as a touchstone: “Graffiti on clothing is very 80s – from Stephen Sprouse through Castelbajac, it was a global thing.” The fact that scribblings are having a moment is, for him, akin to “the ripped jeans of Bros now reappearing, it’s part of realising how long ago the 80s was! Plus of course,” he says, “fashion has no memory”.

Gucci autumn/winter 2017. Photograph: WWD/REX/Shutterstock

Now, as then, it’s not a trend reserved for footwear – Glenville points to the cut-out letters on caps and jumpers at Valentino’s Fall 2017 menswear show. Look to the versions of the It-T-shirt of 2016 that appeared on the Gucci Fall 2017 runway, reimagined with slashes and scrawls – the work of Spanish artist Coco Capitán, who, along with creative director Alessandro Michele, came up with the phrases such as “What are we going to do with all this future?” and “I want to go back to beliving in a story” – spelling mistake for no extra charge.

“Slogan and logo disruption through graffiti and personalisation is always with us,” says Glenville. It’s about “rebellion and revolution” – the same heady mix that will likely make the latest Vetements trainers sell like hot cakes when they land on Mr Porter soon. This pair look your former goth self got creative on them, not even bothering with words, and leaving no space untouched by a black marker pen.

Maison Margiela’s inviting trainers. Photograph: Maison Margiela

But the graffitied names of Kim and Kanye’s offspring on the Yeezy Boosts are no Castelbajac painting-dresses, and they’re not going to win many fans in the anarchic world of mohawks and safety pins. The devil-may-care aesthetic of scribbled-on trainers might scream rebellion, but embellishing the current crop is a very safe kind of scribble – one that stays firmly between the lines.

But then maybe that’s the point – this is a sixth-form kind of insurrection; the slogans are often naff, just like the kind of thing you would have written aged 17 on your lever arch file. This is rebellion for those who still want to get good grades in their A-levels, albeit not at pocket-money prices. And it’s their price that makes them, in all their grubby glory, a kind of sartorial humblebrag.

So, at the risk of upsetting Kanye, if you fancy dipping a toe into this trend, maybe just take a Sharpie to your old plimsolls instead. Or go for Maison Margiela’s current iteration, which have plenty of blank space on which you can fulfill their invitation to “Leave A Message” – with a handily provided branded marker pen, of course.

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