#ish-shutter-island | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

twstedbeauty · 3 years

Note

Just found your blog, and I love it! May i ask for headcannons of Riddle, Vil, Malleus and Idia watching their designated Disney movie with their s/o?(akin Vil, Snow White, Riddle Alice in Wonderland, Malleus, sleeping beauty)

I’m going to assume that they would have the movies in this world since they canonly have The Little Mermaid adaksdjaksdjas

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is still getting used to relaxing and having fun, so watching movies is still rather new to him.

He sits rather stiffly on the couch at first, not really sure how he should sit, but he’ll slowly relax once you join him.

On the whole, I think Riddle would actually really enjoy Alice in Wonderland. It’s very colorful and whimsical and there’s something about it that gives him an almost nostalgic feeling.

He’d appreciate Alice as a protagonist, but I do think he’d find her a little annoying with how she thinks and does things at times.

“Who in their right mind just chases after a rabbit into a hole in the ground?” You hear him mutter and you can’t help but smile to yourself.

The Cheshire Cat immediately reminds him of Che’nya.

Riddle is immediately impressed by the Queen of Hearts entrance. She comes on screen and has this air of intimidation and power.

He points out some parts of the movie that reflect real life Heartslabyul rules! Like the rule about painting the roses, the rule about no cats at parties.

I think the part with the court scene he would find a little silly and quite exaggerated, however.

"So, it was all just a dream?" Riddle watched the credits roll with a rather confused look. "That wasn't satisfying at all!" You couldn't help but giggle at that.

"It's explained at the beginning! She wanted a world of her own, so she made one up herself~" Riddle just blinks owlishly at you at that, which just makes you laugh again.

He'll have to go and have some time to himself, probably having a mental crisis over what is real and what isn't.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil loves watching movies, so when you suggest watching a movie from your world, of course he’s all for it.

Knowing him, he’s no doubt seen the movie already, but he’s not opposed to watching it with you.

The Beautiful Queen summoning the spirit of the Dark Mirror scene makes a proud smirk come to Vil's face. He can't help but feel a bit of pride for his dorm watching it.

But immediately after, when Snow White comes on screen, his face drops into a scowl and he rolls his eyes.

Right off the bat, he comments about how annoying Snow White is.

“I just don’t understand why they gave her such a grating voice...” He grumbles, shaking his head. “It’s so irritating.”

Vil would point out how Snow White's dress and makeup, along with the Beautiful Queen's, is a reflection of the fashion from the period when the movie was made. (And if you pointed it out to him first, he'd be VERY pleased and impressed with you~)

"Oh, so THAT'S why they gave the Beautiful Queen pencil thin eyebrows?" You teased and Vil shoots you an unamused look.

"Of course. She's a product of her time, a staple for beauty and fashion from that era."

The dwarves do amuse him when they come on screen. He'd never tell you, but Dopey is his favorite.

He voices his admiration during the Queen's transformation scene.

"The lengths that she was willing to go is truly admirable..." He watches as she dips the apple into the poison. "But even the greats are capable of making mistakes. She should have ensured that Snow White could never be revived from the sleeping death."

He doesn't have much to say towards the ending, but he does look a little put out by Snow White being revived and getting a happily ever after.

"Such is the fate of villains..." He sighs. "Destined to die in the shadows while the heroes get their happy endings."

"Or is this case, getting struck by lightning and falling off a cliff." You remarked, grinning at the deadpan expression he gives you in response.

His rating for the movie is 9/10. The only reason it's not 10/10 is because of Snow White and the ending.

Idia Shroud

(I apologize in advance, Idia is one of the characters I'm still trying to get a handle on writing ;v;)

I feel like Idia and Ortho watched the Hercules movie as children and it was Ortho's favorite movie.

So watching it again with you was something nostalgic for him, even if he remarks on it being a kids movie. (You can argue that some of the anime he watches is also for kids, but that will upset him and he'll go sulk under his covers and you'll never finish the movie.)

"Uwehehehe...what a clumsy idiot." He's got that sharp smile on his face as he watches Hercules swing the column around and basically destroy his entire village.

Honestly, he's not really interested in Hercules' tale and he's not really a fan of musicals. The only parts that interest him are when Hades comes on screen.

The only commentary that he gives is to make fun of Hercules.

"It's not possible for people to get THAT muscular in such a little amount of time..." He mutters as he watches the training montage with a bored expression. "It's not scientifically possible." You shrug in response.

"He's part god, so maybe that's part of it?" Idia just snickers with a sharp smile.

"He looks like a car test dummy in a toga."

Idia admires how confident Hades is and how fast he can negotiate things. I think he secretly wishes he had that confidence too.

How does he feel about Megara? Mmmm, I don't think he's interested in her character either. She's the main hero's girlfriend and a pawn to Hades, that's it.

If Ortho is watching with you guys, he's really the only one that enjoys it besides you. Idia goes right back to what he was doing before you suggested watching the movie as soon as the credits roll.

Malleus Draconia

Of course, Malleus knew that there was a movie made about the Thorn Witch. He and Lilia showed it to Silver and Sebek when they were children. (Lilia had thought it would be good for them to learn the history behind the tale!) So when you bring up watching it with him, of course he wants to. He loves spending time with you and the fact you want to learn a bit about his culture warms his heart.

He does like the aesthetic of this movie. He finds the music and the hand-painted backgrounds to be charming.

He can't say he understands how animation works, but it's nice to look at nonetheless.

Malleus likes the three good fairies. He finds their antics and the way Flora and Merryweather butt heads to be rather amusing.

"You know, I've always wondered what the third gift would have been if the Witch of Thorns hadn't come in when she did," He muses as Maleficent makes her entrance. You hum in thought.

"Some people theorize it would have been eternal happiness." You look over at him with a slight smile. "You know....never needing to feel blue?" That makes him chuckle.

"Eternal happines....Yes, I quite like that idea for a gift."

If you remark on Maleficent being petty for cursing an infant, Malleus is going to pout.

"Well, quite frankly, I understand how she feels. It's rather hurtful not being invited to events." You look over at him and raise an eyebrow.

"Fine! Then curse the people who didn't invite you. Don't curse the infant child who had nothing to do with whether or not she was invited." Malleus just hurumphs and crosses his arms.

"In a roundabout way, the king and queen DID suffer for their actions. Having their baby cursed to die." A slight smirk breaks across his face. "I'm sure they'll think twice next time."

He doesn't say it, but he quite likes Aurora as a character and he loves the sound of her singing. He finds it very enchanting and relaxing to listen to.

Flora and Merryweather fighting over the dress color reminds him a lot of Silver and Sebek. Fauna's baking strongly reminds him of Lilia's cooking.

During the part where Aurora is being hypnotized, you suddenly gasping and clamping your hand on his arm startles Malleus. "OH MY GOD. I JUST REALIZED THAT THE CREEPY NOISE IS ACTUALLY SAYING HER NAME."

You both pause and listen again as the eerie note that played in between the music stings creepily called "Auuuroooraaa~" in a beckoning manner. Malleus blinked in surprise.

"Oh my. That would explain her expression as she walks up the stairs." He mused, putting a finger to his chin. "How clever. I've watched this film plenty of times and I never noticed that."

The part where Maleficent casts the thorns around Stephen's castle and turns into a dragon are Malleus' favorite parts.

"None of the other members of the Great Seven can do what she can do." He says with a prideful smirk. "She is truly supreme in her ranking."

Watching Maleficent back Prince Phillip onto a cliff and trap him with no protection is VERY satisfying for Malleus. But once the fairies bless the Sword of Truth, he pouts again.

"If it weren't for them, he wouldn't have been able to defeat her." He says. "It wasn't a fair fight." You raise an eyebrow at him at that.

"She turned into a huge, fire-breathing dragon. You call THAT fair?" His little pout in response just makes you laugh.

Overall, Malleus enjoys watching the movie with you and he'll gladly watch it with you again whenever you want to.

#ish-shutter-island #twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twsted wonderland #headcanons

145 notes · View notes

smallish-viking · 3 years

Text

Hiccup the Third, King of the Wilderwest - a HTTYD book fanfic

A year after the war, Hiccup struggles with the pressures of kingship.

3000 ish words

Hiccup struggled to focus on the pages in front of him, eyes growing weary of letters, maps. Forcing himself to conjure solutions to problems as old and complicate as the Archipelago itself.

‘Hiccup?’

Camicazi peered around the door of the hut, flooding the room with the golden pink of dusk, her hair illuminated like a halo.

‘You spend so long in here we are beginning to forget what you look like.’

Hiccup looked at her, everything in him was aching to step out those doors and into the light of the evening, but his work tugged at the edges of his mind.

‘The Meathead land claims will be there in the morning. Come on, Hiccup’.

She was right, Hiccup thought. What use was a King who couldn’t think straight? He reached his aching, ink stained hands to his head and carefully lifted the crown and placed it on the table. Despite its weight, the crown fit him better than ever.

Camicazi grinned as he followed her out into the summer evening.

The golden light hit Hiccup like a physical blow. He stretched out his arms like a bird before flight, feeling the sea air flow between his fingers and blow back his hair. He breathed it in, almost desperately, and closed his eyes, relishing this feeling of weightlessness.

On the clifftop sat a small collection of huts, nicknamed ‘King’s Corner’, built flat and squat to survive coastal storms. Some were lined with books for reading or study. Others were used as meeting chambers where the Council of the Wilderwest gathered for discussion and meetings were held with representatives of the tribes. Hiccup had his back to them as he looked out to the sea. The last of the fishing boats were returning now, and their long shadows were etched into the dazzling blue and golden water. It was low tide and a few small figures could be seen setting out nets on the wet sand among the waders and gulls. Some dragons flew overhead with the cormorants, heading home to roost. There were other dragons, too, who scampered through tall grasses which were ablaze with the day’s final effort of sunlight.

Hiccup and Camicazi began to walk along the clifftop together. Wordlessly, Camicazi handed Hiccup his helmet. It was bashed and scratched thing, scarred by a lifetime of adventure. Unlike the Crown it was weightless as it sat upon his red hair. She reached up and adjusted it on Hiccup’s head, moving aside a lock of hair so the Dragon Mark was visible.

‘That’s better.’

‘Thank you, Camicazi,’ said Hiccup, his voice hoarse from hours of silence.

She flashed him a smile. ‘No problem’. Her eyes met his. There was a fierce warmth in her gaze, like a bonfire in winter, but, too soon, it was gone. She ran ahead of him and swiftly performed a few cartwheels on the grass.

‘So’, Hiccup ran up to her, ‘what have I missed?’.

‘Well,’ Camicazi breathed as she sprung upright again. ‘Tuffnut Junior won a friendly axe fight with Dogsbreath the Duhbrain.’

‘Uh huh’.

‘Gobber beat Baggybum in an arm wrestle. So Baggybum stole his trousers and they called it quits’.

‘Right.’

‘And my mother and your father had a bet on who could rustle the most sheep.’

‘And who won?’

‘My mother of course, she’s the undefeated champion! Better luck next time, Hiccup my boy!’

They had reached the tavern. The familiar sounds reached Hiccup from within, the ambient noise of scraping chairs and chinking glass, of dragon shrieks, laughter and fights about to break out. Camicazi went in first, peering around the corner as she did. She held the heavy oak door open for Hiccup and he stepped in. The shutters were open, so the dying light of the day cast golden beams over the Vikings eating and drinking at the tables and illuminated those who talked and swayed at the sides. Hiccup lingered at the back with Camicazi as he watched them.

Even though the tavern was bustling, Stoick looked up when the door opened, face lifting at the sight of his son. With a single motion of his head, he beckoned Hiccup and Camicazi to join them. Stoick the Vast sat among many of the old warriors of the tribes; Valhallarama of the White Arms and Chunky Thighs, Gobber the Belch, Big Boobied Bertha and several others. Hiccup slid down next to Stoick as Camicazi went to join her mother. The impressive stature of his father loomed beside him. Hiccup nestled into his shadow, a wave of comfort coming over him as he slipped into the role of his father’s son, a boy again.

‘How’s it going, Hiccup?’ said Stoick as he clapped Hiccup on the back.

Hiccup let out a heavy sigh. ‘Tiring’.

‘You’re doing a fine job son. A fine job.’

A large tankard of mead slid down the table and came to a stop by Hiccup’s hands, its contents spilling over onto the oak wood table. Gobber flashed a wink in his direction as Hiccup glanced upwards, and he raised the tankard in thanks. The drink was sickly and burned as Hiccup swallowed it but he welcomed the way that it warmed his insides.

Raising a little on the bench, Hiccup peered over the head of his father to scan the faces of those gathered in the tavern. He was looking for someone; a mop of curly chestnut hair, a pair of glasses beside a placid vegetarian dragon. He found him. Fishlegs was sitting in a secluded corner of the tavern, head bowed in conversation with Barbara the Barbarian. Old Wrinkly’s new allergy remedy must be working as Barbara's cat was prowling along his shoulders and, if anything, it looked like Fishlegs was enjoying it as he ran his long musicians fingers through its black fur.

Hiccup smiled to himself and slid back down into his seat. He was there for a while, basking in the conversation of the old warriors. They spoke of old battles won, and lands lost to fire and time. Some were old stories that Hiccup remembered being told when he was a child. They seemed strange to be spoken here, they belonged to a different age, Hiccup thought, the boy he was when he first heard them seemed so far from him now. He felt like an outsider among his company. Marked somehow. Their faces were all brandished with the Dragonmark, scarred and aged by war. They laughed together but there was a shadow of grief in their eyes; everyone had lost something to the dragon flames.

‘Excuse me, King –.’

Hiccup was pulled from his thoughts as a voice from behind him cut through the others. The bench squeaked as he wearily pushed back from the table and stood to face Baggybum.

‘I’ve been talking to Thuggery, fine lad, who says that the Meathead islands to the East that were destroyed last year need to be rebuilt so that they can move back there. I was thinking that we could take some supplies, wood and iron and such, over there on a few ships and help them out. The tricky thing is the lands lie just south of the Winter Wind of Woden -’

A sudden weight dropped in Hiccup’s stomach. A tangled memory arose that was too sharp to touch. He took in a long breath and stared intensely at his uncle, trying to prize himself away from the fogged window to the past. Baggybum had a scar that stretched over his left brow. Hiccup knew it. The Battle of Flashburn’s School of Sword Fighting, the first of many dreadful days.

‘– you see, and Mogadon wanted the village to be positioned on the West side of the island. That way the harbour will -’

The scar was little more than memory, a shallow wound compared to the tear in Baggybum’s heart, the absence where his son had been torn away, first by betrayal, healed, then broken again by flaming arrows and deep water. The hero that never was.

‘- four Hooligan ships should be enough, I think, but we might be able to borrow some Peaceable supplies along the way - ’

The eyes of Baggybum were the same as his son’s. The stormy blues that Hiccup grew up dreading the sight of, and the inevitable onslaught that soon followed. There it was again. The sudden assault of guilt, a raw wound reopened.

‘What do you think, Hiccup?’

He forced his mind to resurface, to the present, to the words of his beloved uncle. What was he saying? Hiccup felt sick.

‘I, um…’

Words clogged in his mouth.

Useless.

His thoughts weighed like rock.

Hiccup the Useless.

Stop it, please.

You aren’t the King that we wanted, but maybe you are the king that we need.

Snotlout appeared in Hiccup’s mind. Not ghostly, through the fog of memory and heartache, but clear, as if he was standing in front of him. Bruised and tear stained, the Black Star glistening on his chest.

‘Don’t you dare lose it. That Star is very important to me.’

There was a hand on his shoulder. Comforting, gentle. Hiccup obeyed its pressure without really thinking about it. Only as he walked blindly through the crowd did he realise that it was his Grandfather who was leading back outside.

The sharp sea wind collided with Hiccup’s body. The tavern doors swung shut. He walked back along the clifftop, followed Old Wrinkly until they came under the shelter of one of the few trees that were scattered among the heath.

‘It’s ok, Hiccup. Breathe. Just breathe.’

Hiccup hadn’t noticed his rugged shallow breaths. His shoulders tense and jaw set. Away from Old Wrinkly, he withdrew, throat and eyes stinging.

‘I – ’

He tried to speak, but the words got caught in his throat. Old Wrinkly reached out, his withered hands held Hiccup’s face, and when Hiccup met his gaze, he saw the pride that glimmered in his tired, bright eyes.

‘Oh Hiccup, my dear boy.’

They drew their arms around each other. It was not a gentle thing, that embrace, Hiccup held onto his grandfather as if he were the only stone structure in a violent storm.

‘This is the hard way,’ said Old Wrinkly after a while, ‘to become a King.’

They broke apart and his hands clasped Hiccup’s arms.

‘You’ve already done what the sagas will sing of. You’ve defeated a great enemy and saved the Barbaric Archipelago.’ Hiccup noticed that in the fading light, Old Wrinkly seemed to blend into the silvery wisps of cloud that blew towards the ocean. ‘Now comes the hard bit. Kings are remembered for the glory of battle, the might of the sword but great leaders, Hiccup, the leaders that are truly revered, are known for the love and devotion that their people show them and the better world that they work together to create.’

‘But that’s exactly it!’ replied Hiccup, ‘everyone is looking at me to be this perfect leader.’ He threw his arms into the air. ‘Not long ago I was Hiccup The Useless, the bottom in every class. Let’s face it I was a rubbish Viking, and now I expected to be this great King. Wherever I turn there are people there expecting me to do the perfect thing. To live up to their hopes.’ His arms came to rest on his head then he dragged them down over his face. ‘We all lost so much in that war, so much, and I’m expected to put it all back the way it was.’

‘The truth is, Hiccup,’ Old Wrinkly took out his pipe and begun to fill it. ‘The world will never be as it was. It grows and evolves like a living thing.’ He lit the pipe and drew in a long breath. ‘It’s your job to be like a father to it, to guide the world, to care for it, and set it off in the right direction.’ And then he smiled. ‘Just like training a dragon. You’ve ventured to the perilous Wild Dragon Cliff and you now have a wriggling and smoking basket under your bed, and the adventure has just begun.’

‘And maybe you can train a dragon better by talking to it then yelling at it,’ followed Hiccup, ‘yes, I remember.’ He laughed wearily. ‘Well, that’s certainly easier said than done. Sometimes yelling does seem to be the only language this lot understand.’

Old Wrinkly let out a smoke filled chuckle. ‘Yes, it has always been the way.’

They stayed there in silence for a while. Old Wrinkly smoked his pipe and Hiccup watched the dragons that scuttled and squabbled along the shoreline.

‘Hiccup!’ There was a shout from behind. Fishlegs and Camicazi were coming towards him, Camicazi struggling to keep up with Fishlegs’ long strides without breaking into a run.

‘That’s where you are!’

Old Wrinkly gave Hiccup a knowing look and patted him on the shoulder before turning and heading back towards the village. He raised his pipe in greeting to the others.

‘I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, Fishlegs.’

‘Yeah, see you then.’

‘What’s happening tomorrow?’ asked Camicazi.

‘Old Wrinkly has been teaching me how to be a healer.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I reckon it’s a pretty useful skill to have. It’s been days since I’ve seen you Hiccup

Before Hiccup could reply, Camicazi cut in, ‘that’s because you spend all your time with Barbara the Barbarian.’

Fishlegs blushed a deep crimson.

‘I really think she likes me you know.’

‘I think she does, too,’ said Hiccup. ‘But more importantly I know her father likes you as well, he seemed genuinely impressed with that letter you wrote to her.’

‘Really? How do you know?’

‘I was in a meeting with him last week and he mentioned it. He was saying how he wanted to get rid of the “old fashioned notion” of parents dictating their daughters marriages. He was certainly hairy, but not as scary as I previously thought.’

‘Wow’ Fishlegs swung his arm around Hiccup, then the other around Camicazi as he faced the sea wind. ‘Love. You just can’t beat it.’

Camicazi wriggled out from underneath him. ‘Fishlegs, have you been at Tuffnut Senior’s home brew?’

‘No,’ said Fishlegs indignantly, ‘well, maybe a little, but the point still stands.’

Hiccup laughed and put his arm around Fishlegs. ‘Are you alright, though, Hiccup?’ Fishlegs said as he searched his friend’s face.

‘Yeah, its just this King business.’ He sighed. ‘It really weighs me down sometimes.’ Hiccup was feeling a lot better after his chat with Old Wrinkly. Mad as he is, he is certainly good at giving advice.

‘Hmm... I know what you need.’ Said Camicazi. And then she cupped her hands to her mouth and called out, sharp and piercing. ‘SHADOW!!’

A few moments later, as if Thor himself had chiselled out a part of the sky, the enormous Deadly Shadow dragon burst through the air, turning visible just as they touched onto land. Hiccup and Fishlegs stumbled backwards, but Camicazi, defiant as ever, stood firmly as she stared with glee at the beautiful dragon.

‘Hello there, Shadow,’ said Fishlegs as Innocence went to nuzzle his shoulder. He put his cheek to the side of Innocence’s head and stroked down his neck, now the green of the heathland.

Hiccup’s awe of the Deadly Shadow had never faded, and as he walked around them a swelling of immense gratitude rose within him for this beautiful creature, and for the dragons who flew in flocks overhead, for Stormfly, Wodensfang, The Windwalker and little Toothless. Camicazi reached out her hand for him, he took it and hauled himself onto Shadow’s back.

‘Where to?’ asked Patience.

Hiccup smiled. ‘Upwards.’

Shadow extended their enormous wings, which turned a dusky grey in anticipation for the awaiting sky. Hiccup braced himself and with a jolt, Shadow was off. Up, up, up they soared, wind rushed through his hair and he spread out his arms, tilted up his head, and gazed at the clouds which neared ever closer. Camicazi whooped and punched the air and soon, she too was reaching upwards to catch the clouds above their heads. Fishlegs had his arms around the neck of Patience and was peering round him, looking towards the ground that was disappearing rapidly beneath them.

For how long they remained there, Hiccup could not tell. He forgot all else. His world narrowed to this friends who sat in front of him, the gentle beats of Shadow’s wings, the sea below and the sky above. The air was sweet as he breathed it in. Very sweet. Hang on, is that drinking chocolate? Hiccup spun to look behind him and there, gliding along in the slipstream behind the Deadly Shadow, was the Windwalker!

‘Hello Windwalker!’ Hiccup called, beaming.

The Windwalker loop the looped in excitement and glided to position himself as close as he could to the enormous, sky coloured dragon. With the ease from a childhood on dragon back, Hiccup slid from the Deadly Shadow and onto the back of the Windwalker. And off he flew. Hiccup looked behind him to the others, a shadow of grey was rising in the east as night was beginning to reclaim the earth. Camicazi had positioned herself on Shadow so she was lying on their back, gazing at the sky above and Fishlegs was talking to Arrogance, but Hiccup couldn’t make out the words. He waved to them and they smiled and waved back at him, before the Windwalker climbed further upwards.

There is a moment, when a dragon ascends and soars upwards. When the land falls away and the world stretches wide, nothing but sky and cloud and freedom. It was Hiccup’s favourite time, when anything could happen and nothing yet had. He sat on the back of the Windwalker, and the wild night opened its arms. Tomorrow can wait.

#whoa there we are #this fic has been in my head for four years #now it's out there #!!!!#thanks to my mum and my girlfriend for proofreading #httyd books #httyd book fanfic #hiccup horrendous haddock lll #book hiccup #fishlegs #camicazi

87 notes · View notes

butwhyduh · 3 years

Note

I love titans!Jason a whole ton because of just how bold and cocky he is. He's a prime example of how people his age are, less inhibitions and more carefree life. He fits into that phase of thinking he's invincible (at least until what happens with Deathstroke.) Knowing what's coming up for him kinda makes me sad because we only have so much precious time with him as Robin, and I was enjoying it. Like, I'm excited to see the next part of his character, but it seemed to come so fast. Especially since they're already going to be running so many plotlines this season, with the Scarecrow stuff and the Blackfire situation, not to mention Raven going to help with the Donna issue. Jason being, well, Jason Todd and not Red Hood, is running on borrowed time and I just want them to do him justice.

- 💌💋 swak anon

I’m tentatively excited but don’t want to have too much hope of that makes sense. I write a lot. And I have ideas of how plots tend to go. I’m the worst to take to see a detective movie because I high key will spoil it in the first 20 minutes a lot. Like shutter island I called in the first 10 minutes. Loved that movie. Anyways, I’m very off topic lmao. But I just don’t know how they’ll fit it all in with both Red Hood and Blackfire storylines and introducing Barbara Gordon AND Tim Drake, especially since Jason is still Robin (!!!). I love scarecrow so I hope that goes good 🤞🏼

Unpopular opinion: But the actor playing Jason gets undue hate. Is Titans very canon compliant? No. But is any adaptation? No. Canon isn’t even canon compliant at this point. But everyone wants Jason todd, larger than life murderer and vigilante that’s been doing it for years. They also want him hypersexualized that isn’t even in the comics. That’s not the story of Titans. He’s a teenager that is Robin.

And live action Jason Todd is so complicated because his character goes through a physical transformation that would be harmful to an actor. Like they really have 3 choices which is to get someone that fits Robin, that they did, and make him seem bigger and more intimidating through movie magic (which they can make tom cruise look bigger they can certainly make curren Walters look bigger). We don’t want him on steroids or something. They could have hired someone that is big and Red Hood-ish and then it’ll be like Terry Cruz wearing the tag that says 9 year old child and he looks ridiculous next to Dick Grayson because he’s supposed to be a kid next to Nightwing’s adult. Or the third and cursed option is hiring one actor for robin and another for red hood. And that’s horrific unless they happen upon a family where they look almost identical but one is a few years older and they happen to be able to act. That’ll never happen especially since we are supposed to care about this character and changing actors is almost a guaranteed way to kill a character in most shows.

Also most people who say he acts nothing like Jason todd haven’t read his stories before turning into the red hood. After under the red hood came out they decided to add in the fact that he was an angry Robin that basically deserved and was doomed to die but that’s not true. He was happy, enthusiastic, and a nerd. He was sometimes naive and sweet and made mistakes.

But it wasn’t his hubris that killed him, it was his heart. He genuinely thought his mother was in trouble and tried to save her; not that he thought he could take on the joker by himself.

Same thing for the people that want sunshine unicorn fanon dick Grayson. Nope! He gets angry and dark and isolates sometime. And holy hell does brenton thwaites look like him.

2 characters I think titans got totally wrong? Bruce Wayne and Garth. Garth looks like Arthur curry in comics and I don’t get it tbh. And Bruce Wayne has the personality but he’s not a DILF. Playboy is right in his title and that guy isn’t it. But he’s a side character anyways.

#titans tv #titans s3 #titans!jason todd #titans!dick Grayson

58 notes · View notes

toplinetommy · 3 years

Note

Anthony beauvillier from smut list 2 with #2 and #56

oopsy my finger slipped and i wrote over 3.3k in enemies to lovers smut

warnings: unprotected sex, rough(ish) sex

Stella had effectively ditched you not even an hour into your night. Her and her boyfriend getting way too drunk and touchy way too fast, resulting in them calling it a night fairly early to go home and fuck. You were just hoping they choose to go to his place and not back to yours, or else you’d have to deal with her and her inability to be quiet while drunk.

That left you where you currently were, seated between Anders and Matt, and across from your least favorite Islander of them all: Anthony. He hadn’t done anything to make you outright dislike him per se, it was more that he had done nothing to ever warrant a friendship between the two of you.

Maybe it was the tequila mixed with the vodka you had consumed in your system, or maybe it was the long dry-spell you were in the middle of, or maybe it was the lack of rude comments he had made at your expense tonight, or maybe it was the way his arms were bulging in his light blue dress shirt, or maybe you were just finally admitting just how attractive he was to yourself. Maybe it was a combination of all of the above, but your eyes lingered on the winger in front of you. You could see the veins in his hands every time he brought his whiskey glass to his lips and every time his tongue swept over his bottom lip to catch any droplets of remaining liquid.

God his lips would feel good between my thighs, you thought to yourself.

The thought had you shaking your head and abruptly asking Anders to move so you could exit the booth, muttering something about how you needed a refill. The guys looked at you quizzically, noting the very much full tequila lemonade that sat on the table. Nevertheless, you marched through the overcrowded club to get to the bar, in search of a stronger substance than the one you abandoned at the table.

The bar was packed, just like any other Thursday in the city, which was something you were starting to be ungrateful for. You squeezed your way in between two random strangers, hoping to get the bartender’s attention quickly. Except, the bartender seemed to not notice you and continually asked for the people’s orders that surrounded you. You let out a large puff of air, impatiently tapping your heeled foot on the ground below you.

The bartender finally made their way over to your frame, and you opened your mouth to spout out your order, but you were silenced by an all too familiar voice behind you and a warm hand wrapping around your waist.

“Two tequila shots, please,” Anthony spoke loudly over the music.

“Oh, also a vodka sprite with cranberry, please! And a lime!” You shouted as the bartender turned around. They returned shortly, two tequila shots in hand as well as the drink you ordered.

“They’re all gonna go on his tab,” you smiled, taking the drinks.

Anthony looked at you dumbfoundedly as you spoke, confused as to where that agreement came from. He didn’t mind though, it was a small price to pay if he wanted to play his cards right tonight.

“So are both these shots for me, or are you taking one too, Beauvillier?” You smirked, holding both shot glasses in hand. Honestly, you thought of just downing at least one of them before asking him, but some side of you wanted to be polite and wanted him to join you.

“Wouldn’t have ordered two if I didn’t expect us both to take them,” Anthony answers, grabbing a shot glass from you. He steals two slices of lime from behind the bar after, handing you one to use as a chaser.

“What’re we toasting to?” you ask. Toasting to something whenever you took a shot was something you had been doing ever since you started drinking and you sure as hell weren’t going to forgo it this time around because of him.

“To an unforgettable night,” Anthony answers. You don’t miss the sly smirk that’s playing on his lips and you definitely don’t miss the way his eyes stare into yours, reading your reaction.

“To an unforgettable night, then.”

One shot turned into two, the drink you ordered long gone. The two of you had stayed at the bar, conversing in a friendly manner for once, before getting the urge to dance.

You placed a soft hand on his shoulder, using it for leverage to pull yourself up so you could speak into his ear. “You wanna dance?”

Anthony shuttered at the breath fanning against his neck. He swallowed thickly, trying to carefully think of what his next moves were going to be if he wanted you to end up back at his place later. It was like a chess game with the two of you, neither of you ever leaving your king piece out to dry, and always making sure you were stealing the other’s pawn when you could.

“Yeah,” he let out, a little shakiness in his voice, which was something he never had, considering his confidence when it came to speaking to you, or any girl for that matter.

In a moment of bravery and confidence, you took one of his hands, interlocking your fingers, and dragging him to the dance floor before finding a spot barely big enough for your bodies. There was just enough space for you to turn your body away from him, backing up into his front. You slowly started moving to the loud thump of the bass, his hands coming to rest on your hips. His hands guided your movements of rubbing your ass into his crotch. You placed one hand atop of his and the other snaked backward to the back of his neck.

His hands roamed around your hips, every now and then moving to your stomach to pull you tighter into him. His fingers dance along the hem of your leather pants, sending a shiver through your body that you’re sure he didn’t miss. One song flowed into the next song and the next thing you know you’re turning around in his arms to face him, your hands falling on his broad chest. You played with the collar of his shirt a moment before standing on your tippy-toes to whisper in his ear once more.

“I think I’m gonna head out soon,” your lips brushing against his ear as you speak. His hands that are wrapped around you waist tighten at your words. You don’t say anything else, letting him think he has the next move.

“Yeah?” He asks, pulling away from you in order to look directly at your features. He’s trying to read your face for a sign of what to do next, his normal confident personality dwindling in comparison to the assertiveness you’re showing him tonight. His gaze shifts from your eyes down to your lips, his tongue peeking out to wet his own. He sees you do the same, and he takes it as a sign to lean in and kiss you. When he does, you turn your cheek, making his lips land harshly on your cheek. The action has him pulling away quickly, confused by your shutdown.

“I don’t kiss in public settings like this,” you explain.

“Then how about you head out with me? Back to my place?”

You pretend to contemplate the question before nodding your head, agreeing that you’ll go home with him. With that, Anthony is pushing you out of the bar all the while calling a car. The air outside is warm for the time of year, considering there’s usually snow on the streets of the city by early December. The two of you shove into the backseat of the Toyota that’s picking you up. His hand rests a little high on your thigh the entire car ride back to his place. You make no effort for small talk with him and he does the same, only responding to the driver when he made a comment about the Islanders season.

The second the two of you are in the elevator of his high-rise condo, he’s shoving you against the wall. “You have no idea how much I want you,” Anthony breathes out into your neck. You lean up into him, wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling his face down to yours so you can connect your lips.

Your lips are only slotted between his for what feels like a second before the ding of the elevator interrupts you, causing him to pull away. Looking at him, mere inches in front of you is when you decided it definitely wasn’t the dry spell or the alcohol talking. Anthony was the definition of attractive with his bulging muscles and firm stature, simple as that.

He leads you to his apartment door, unlocking it with ease and dragging you in behind him, pushing your body against the entryway wall. His lips attach back to yours, his arms on either side of your head, crowding your body between the wall and his. His lips move feverishly against yours, your hands quickly working at the buttons of his dress shirt.

“I’ve never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly,” Anthony breathes out heavily.

“Then get on with it, Beauvillier,” you demand, pushing your hands underneath the now open fabric of his shirt. Your eyes drop down to his torso, admiring the hard lines on his abdomen and how defined his v-lines are. God, you couldn’t wait to see his muscular legs under his dress pants.

You pushed at his chest, deciding on your own that you were not letting him fuck you for the first time against the wall of his apartment, and instead moved both of your bodies to where you thought you saw his couch. Once you were seated on Tito’s lap, his shirt long gone on the hardwood floor somewhere, your hands began making work at his belt. You managed to get it unbuckled, while he started leaving a trail of kisses down your neck, occasionally opting to nip at the skin. He pushed the low-cut top you were wearing down so it was showing off your now bare chest. Tito’s eyes almost bulged out of his head as he saw that you weren’t wearing a bra and you had to hold in a giggle at his reaction.

His lips attached to your nipple, causing you to involuntarily buck your hips against his and moan. Your fingers carded through the short hair at the back of his head, tugging a little on the longer strands to grab his attention. You enjoy the way his teeth tug at your nipples, but the alcohol in your system plus the long-game you had played tonight has you impatient. He releases your nipple with a pop, replacing his mouth with his hands, kneading both of your breasts.

You place your lips on his once again, abandoning them after a brief moment, choosing to turn his head to the side, exposing more of his neck and littering kisses there in search for his sweet spot. You find it right where his neck meets the dip of his collarbone, sucking lightly. You continue to nip at his skin, sucking bruises into his chest and moving further down until your knees are scraping against the shag carpet below his couch.

Your hands’ reconnect with his open belt buckle, popping open the button on his pants and sliding the zipper down. He lifts his ass and legs off the couch, helping you as you pull his pants and boxer briefs down to his ankles. His cock springs free, semi-hard from your previous actions. Your hands wrap around his shaft, pumping a few times until he’s fully hard and you’re leaning your head forward and licking a long stripe up the underside of his cock. He moans and the sensation, his hands instantly finding their way to your hair.

You take him into your mouth all in one-go, deciding to not tease him any further. Your hands move along what can’t fit in your mouth, the spit gathering there making it easier for you. You pick up the pace, bobbing your head at a quick pace. The sounds of your wet mouth gagging on his cock fills his ears, and he’s throwing his head back against eh couch cushions, moaning loudly in pleasure. The sounds you’re pulling from him cause a flutter in your stomach and you can start to feel yourself getting wet. You pull one of your hands away from his shaft, shoving it inside your underwear and spreading the wetness around to rub at your clit and moaning around his cock.

Tito catches on to your actions quickly, telling you to take your pants off and pulling you into his lap. His member brushes against your clit as you place yourself in his lap, your knees on either side of his thighs. His hands lift you up off of him, one hand slipping through your folds, pushing two of his thick fingers into you. You moan at the sudden feeling, bucking your hips in hopes of getting any sort of friction on your clit. His eyes are on your eyes as he watches your face fill with pleasure. He can’t take it anymore deciding he needs to be inside you now and takes removes his fingers, causing you to whine at the feeling of emptiness.

He pulls his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean as he tastes you. He rolls his eyes with a moan at the taste, making a mental note that’s he’s got to get his face between your thighs soon. He pumps himself a few more times before you’re slowly sitting yourself on top of him.

It’s messy; your shirt hasn’t even been discarded, your tits still exposed and bouncing against you as you bounce on Tito’s cock. Your fingers scratch at his chest, your head tilted back in pleasure as moans escape your mouth from deep inside you. Tito’s hands can’t seem to find a place on your body to find purchase, instead moving them from the globes of your ass to your hips, one hand making its way to your parted lips, pushing his first two fingers in your mouth. Your lips close around them, swirling your tongue around the calloused digits.

“Fuck, baby,” Tito groans out, a hungry look in his eyes as he watches his cock slide in and out of your pussy. “Just like that.”

You moan around his fingers at the praise, moving one of your hands down to your clit, applying pressure. Anthony doesn’t like that, pulling his fingers from your lips in a quick motion and swatting your hand away from where your bodies are joined. With your now free hands, you pull your top from your body, one of your hands pinching at your nipples.

The spit on his fingers adds a cooling feeling to your clit, and as you bounce faster on his cock you can feel your stomach tighten and your eyes clench shut. Your moaning only increases, not caring about how loud you’re being knowing you’re in an empty apartment being fucked by probably one of the hottest men you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

Tito keeps rubbing your clit, his hips starting to buck up in hopes of making you fall over that edge. You can start to feel your orgasm crashing over you, so you collapse into his chest, halting your movements and making him do all the work. He pushes you through your first orgasm of the night, not letting you have any downtime before he’s pulling you off of him and pushing you to your knees on the couch so that you’re facing away from him and resting your forearms on the back of the couch.

You all but moan when he takes no time in entering you once again, this time in one, swift, harsh motion. His hands grip your hips, showing no mercy with how much pressure he’s applying as he begins fucking into you with quick, hard thrusts. Your ass ripples against him every time you meet his hips. Even with Tito being a professional athlete, you’re still shocked at his stamina as he rails into you at a heavy pace. You’re grateful for the couch cushions in front of you, using them to support the front half of your body.

A sharp smack to your ass check shocks you, has your head snapping up from the couch to look over your shoulder at Tito behind you. He’s got his lip between his teeth and his previously styled hair is starting to flop down over his forehead.

“Anthony,” you shriek as his tip hits your g-spot. He continues to relentlessly pound into you, his eyes glued to where his cock moves in and out of your pussy. The only sounds that fill the living room are your moans and curses and the continuous slapping of skin on skin. His hand lands another slap on your ass, before his hand travels up your back, collecting your hair in his fist. He pulls you back into him by your hair, forcing you to sit up straight.

The grip he has in your hair is tight and exposes your neck to him, where his teeth bite down. He sucks a few bruises into the side of your neck and your shoulder, his other hand traveling up to your breast.

“Keep saying my name,” he grunts into your ear. “Let everyone know who’s making you feel this good.”

“You,” you whimper out. “You’re fucking me so good.”

“Say my name,” he breathes out hastily in rhythm with punctuated thrusts as he speaks, biting down again on your neck in hopes that you’ll get the message.

“You, Tito,” you shriek as he thrusts harder and slower than before. “Fuck, Tito.”

He picks up his pace as you chant out his name, the hand on your breast moving down to your swollen clit. The new pressure there causes you to fall back against his chest, unable to keep yourself up on your knees for him. His pace is erratic as he chases his high with you, cursing out hot breaths into your neck. There’s a heavy sheen of sweat on your chest and even more on your back against Tito’s chest.

With a moan of his name, you’re coming for the second time that night and he’s following close behind, pulling out and pushing you so you’re draped over the back of the couch again, and finishing across your ass.

“You think you can keep going?” He asks once you’ve both caught your breath, pulling you into his arms so he can place a kiss on your lips. You nod your head, “Good because you’re gonna sit on my face.” He demands, dragging you to his bedroom. And if you end up fucking in his bed after he eats you out, and then blowing him once more in the shower before calling it a night, and then one more time on his kitchen island the next morning, and if you guys make out like teenagers as he bids you goodbye, then no one has to know.

And maybe, just maybe, the tension between the two of your that you once thought was plain, old distaste, was really just the clear attraction between one another that you both ignored.

#blurbies #alex writes #anthony beauvillier imagine #smut #nhl imagine #nhl smut

302 notes · View notes

platypanthewriter · 3 years

Text

The Tanning Rock

Harringrove April prompt 28, Tanning--Creatures!AU (This one grew to nearly 6k and I’m so sorry) @wasting-time-again HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY, HAVE A MERMAN! XD

The lawyer who summoned Billy—about an inheritance, he said—was...weird. Straight out of a movie, with long incisors and a cravat, and he steepled his fingers as he talked.

Max said he was probably actually a vampire, and Billy agreed—which was weird, because as far as Billy knew, his mom’s family wasn’t exactly old money, and it was hard to imagine a vampire getting on a plane to fly clear to California and summoning him to a crypt full of file cabinets, all just to read a will about his mom’s collection of surfing stickers and pile of old National Geographics.

Billy knew his father had disowned him, so he bit his lips together, waiting to hear that his mother had died.

“I am here about the estate of your grandmother,” said the vampire lawyer, and Billy drew a shaky breath of relief. “Your mother was disowned—” he said, and Billy almost snorted a laugh—like mother, like son, he thought, “—and so her domicile has passed to you.”

“Wait, what,” Billy breathed, wide-eyed.

“It is an unusual case,” said the lawyer—Fangun and Stayk, est. 986, read his card, but Billy wasn’t sure whether he was speaking to Fangun or Stayk, or whether the whole thing was a joke yet, so he kept his mouth shut. “You will take ownership of the house and land, however, you may not live there—that is, not year-round, not unless you are given an invitation by a resident. It is a closed community.”

“...can I sell it?” Billy asked, and the deepset eyes of the lawyer stared back at him, bloodshot and dry.

“At well below market value,” he said, steepling his fingers again. They made a dryish noise. “As I said, they dislike outsiders. And a stranger will be even more of an outsider than you, in whom runs...the blood of the place.”

Billy wondered, dully, whether he’d inherited a haunted graveyard, or a den of werewolves, and groaned into his hands. Maybe he was part zombie somehow. Just his luck. “Where is it,” he sighed.

“It is not on commonly available maps,” said the vampire, and Billy nodded. It figured, he thought, though his ears perked up considerably when his grandmother’s lawyer laid out a map of Hawaii.

They got a ride from the shore on a fishing boat at four o’clock in the morning. “It’s barely tourist season yet,” said the fisherwoman, showing Max how to steer. “There will be a ferry, in a week or two, but I can give you two a ride out the day your visa’s up if the ferry quits sooner.”

“We want enough time to look around,” Max said, glancing at Billy. They’d let their lease run out, and sold most of their things, because a few orange crates of records were a small price to pay for never running into Neil Hargrove around town. “You could get a job on one of the normal islands,” Max had suggested, quietly, over and over. “If they don’t like us enough.”

Billy’d never suggested moving Max so far away, but she’d assumed they were going, and after a while he went along with it. It wouldn’t be so bad, he thought, getting a job in a hotel somewhere after the islanders threw him out. Max would probably love it, in Hawaii.

A fresh start, she had said, and it sounded good.

He and Max were greeted by a woman in a wheelchair, who stamped their passports. “Technically, we’re a different country,” she said, smiling. She had very brown skin, and looked contentedly half-asleep in the sun. “You’re the only visitors on the island, for a week or two,” she said, cocking her head. “We’re not always in a big hurry to scrub up the ferry for the summer. We love the money, but the tourists...” she laughed, shaking her head. “Three-month pleasure trip visa. Have a nice summer,” she said, waving them away.

Her benign lack of interest lessened Billy’s initial fears that he’d inherited membership in some rich, yoga-pants-wearing, white Human Superiority cult.

The house was traditional-ish, with a grass roof and walls, big open windows with no glass, only shutters, and a wide shaded veranda all the way around. It looked over a beach with rolling waves, and Billy couldn’t wait to get his board out there.

“I’m gonna look around the house,” Max said. “See if I can find any neighbors. Maybe I can bring them cookies.” She set her jaw, frowning around at their luggage, and the scattered pillows. “Maybe we can buy some furniture somewhere.”

“...we can always just come here for summers,” Billy told her, breathing it in.

“Yeah, you’re gonna have a great time getting a tourism job where you don’t work summers,” Max said, raising a sarcastic eyebrow, and Billy realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach that she expected him to figure it out. Find someone who wanted him to stay, here, on the island, at his grandmother’s house.

“I’m no good at making friends, Max,” he reminded her, and she snorted.

“Better get out of my hair, then.” She folded her arms, taking another deep breath of the smell of grass in the sun. After a long moment, she looked back at him again. “...we’ve got a little over three months, Billy.”

He suspected it sounded longer to her.

When he wandered down to the beach, Billy could see someone’s tanned shoulders lying across a jutting rock about fifty feet out, and he paddled a ways towards it on his surfboard, getting the lay of the ocean. There was a rip tide, dark and eerily quiet, to his right, but the rest of the beach had shallow, warm, clear waves over white sand and coral until a dark dropoff about fifty feet out where the rolling waves began.

As he paddled closer to the rock, he could see the man on it—asleep, Billy thought, just lying in the sun as the waves lapped at his skin. As Billy drifted closer, paddling with his hands, he could see a long-fingered hand hanging in the water, and he paddled faster, suddenly wondering whether the man wanted to be out on a rock, or whether he was a Dude In Distress, his leg cramped, needing a ride to the beach on Billy’s surfboard and a trip around the boardwalk, and maybe some shaved ice.

As Billy approached, the guy opened his eyes, frowning over at Billy with wide, half-awake brown eyes. He pushed himself up on the rock with his arms like the goddamn Little Mermaid, Billy thought, amused. His throat went dry watching the flex of muscle, and the water droplets where the dude had lifted himself out of the bay.

Billy paddled at random, a little, unable to tear his eyes away. He cleared his throat. “Just, uh, making sure you didn’t need any help,” he said, staring at the tanned arms and swimmer’s chest in front of him, nearly triangular, like a superhero. “I, um. Guess you’re fine.”

The guy raised his eyebrows, starting to smirk, and then his eyes widened, and Billy realized in a flash of blue and foam that he’d drifted right into the fucking rip tide. Right in front of the gorgeous dude on the rock, Billy thought in the back of his mind, trying to hold onto his surfboard and let the rip tide take him wherever it would. Just his luck, he thought, dying because he was so damn gay he saw nice shoulders and his brain switched off. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to breathe before he got sucked down, and his lungs and sinuses were starting to ache worse than the rest of him, even as he was buffeted around against his board, when an arm slid around his waist.

He wanted to yell at the guy—and he did, in an explosion of bubbles—because what the hell good was it gonna do, swimming into a rip tide, but the muscles against his back and butt flexed, and they were moving sideways out of the rip tide, and then Billy’s head was above water. He gasped and choked, coughing up half the sea. The ocean moved soothingly around them, as this dude had no trouble holding Billy up, and Billy tried to clear his throat and eyes.

“Have you seriously never seen a tail before,” the guy groaned, hauling Billy along like he was no more effort to lift than a little kid at the pool. Billy felt rock against his thigh, suddenly, and scrambled onto it, coughing and wiping his eyes to see he was on the jutting rock the dude must have jumped off of, to save him.

“How-how fucking humiliating,” he gasped out loud. “Can’t believe. C-can’t believe I fucking p-paddled into a rip tide.”

“You drifted back into the...yeah,” his hot rescuer said, still in the water, with one hand on the rock to hold him steady as he frowned at Billy. His voice sounded a little odd—Billy was reminded of the Chinese grocery by his house, where their English was perfect, but they had a lilt as they tried to speak an atonal language with a tonal ear. Up close, he was even prettier, with moles Billy wanted to track down his neck and shoulders, and a doubtful, scrunched-up mouth Billy wanted to kiss.

“Sorry,” Billy wheezed, still coughing. “Sorry, I’m such a moron, sorry.” He tried to keep his eyes above the water level, but some part of his brain kept looking for tanned legs kicking under the surface, and he suddenly registered that the moving colors weren’t just fish and anemones. “Holy shit,” he coughed out. “You have a tail.”

His rescuer frowned harder, probably worried Billy had brain damage. “I figured that’s why you swam into the rip tide,” he said slowly, and Billy shook his head, groaning.

“No—fuck, I’m sorry, you—you’re just hot as fuck, I’m just a moron, I’m—damn it,” he sighed. “Sorry, jesus, I’m so fucking rude, sorry, I just didn’t notice, I was like ‘How the hell did he get me out of there? OH!’, sorry,” he muttered, sighing. “...drown me.”

“I am though, right,” the merman said, grinning, “—hotter than you,” and Billy realized he’d found the only person on the island more annoying than he was.

“Yeah, yeah, just laugh at the poor gay moron who nearly drowned staring at you, that’s nice,” he huffed, lying back against the warm rock to catch his breath.

“Was it love at first sight?” asked his rescuer, and Billy opened his eyes to glare.

“Shut up, asshole,” he grunted.

“Just asking,” his tormenter asked. “Are you gonna pine away, sighing over me? Hey, d’you think you’ll always do that? If I swim over in town, you think you’ll fall off the boardwalk?”

“Fuck you,” Billy told him, leaning his face in his arms and laughing. “Yeah, probably, you shithead. Are you gonna...follow me around? So I can look like more of an idiot?”

“Mmm, can you though…” the gorgeous merman asked thoughtfully, and Billy growled into his arms, feeling his whole body warm. He blamed it on the sun. “Why,” his rescuer asked, pulling himself up to laugh against Billy’s ear. “—you want me to follow you someplace?”

“Oh my god,” Billy groaned, laughing harder. “Are you afraid to leave me alone now? What if I try and eat my surfboard?”

“...are you gonna?”

“Maybe?!” Billy told him, then pushed himself up, frowning around to look for it.

“I’ve got it, it’s right here,” the smug asshole told him, waggling the surfboard in the water. “Want me to take you back to shore?”

“No!” Billy laughed, sighing. “I’m going surfing, just because I nearly died making an ass of myself doesn’t mean—”

“Hrm, maybe I should keep an eye on you.”

“Why,” Billy asked, then pitched his voice just a little lower. “You like what you see?”

“I could get used to it,” the merman said, and Billy started to preen, but the dickhead finished with “—kind of a comedy special, kind of thing,” and Billy reached over and smacked a big splash of water at him.

He laughed, his throat arching back, the gills along it thin dark lines that Billy fantasized kissing around.

Just as Billy was considering grabbing the surfboard and using it as a weapon of blunt force trauma, the merman leaned in close, his smirk widening around pointed teeth, and his cool, salty lips pressed firmly against Billy’s. Billy made a weird gulping noise in his throat, and the asshole started to pull away, but Billy leaned in, and fell clean off the rock. His weight dunked them both, and they rose sputtering and laughing, Billy held securely in his merman’s arms as his surfboard floated away. He couldn’t really bring himself to care.

“...my name’s Billy,” he panted.

“...Steve,” the mer-dickhead said, raising his eyebrows, like it was weird to want to know his name.

“...I inherited a house here,” Billy told him in a rush, drunk on kisses. “I’m from California. My mom used to talk about this place when I was a kid. Surfing here. With her mom.”

“...is she here?” Steve asked, steadying them with one hand on the rock, and glancing back at the beach.

Billy laughed, shaking his head. “Fuck, sorry, you don’t need to know my shit. We can make out. You’re short-circuiting my brain.”

“...I should probably get your surfboard,” Steve told him, grinning, but he leaned his head in again, gentle with his sharp teeth, and Billy inhaled shakily as the points grazed his lips and tongue.

“Jesus,” he whispered, once he could talk, and then he licked his lips and wrenched himself away to swim after his surfboard, just so his smug rescuer wouldn’t have to fetch it for him. The waves got bigger as he got out to where the trees weren’t acting as a windbreak, and he clambered up on his board, glaring back as Steve wolf-whistled.

When he let the tides pull him back towards the gorgeous merman on the rock, he lost his mind again, telling him his tail looked like a peacock butt, and Steve cracked up, grinning at him.

“...so, neighbor, you have to win someone over enough to invite you to stay,” he said, cocking his head.

“Yup,” Billy told him, pointing up at the house he’d inherited, built into the hill, the old grass vacation cottage blending in with the trees.

“And your method is to tell me I look like bird ass,” Steve continued, and Billy grimaced, waving his hands.

“No! No, I don’t—I know people have to get to know you. Here. I’ll…” he sighed. “I’ll try for a few months and see what happens. If nothing...clicks, maybe I’ll try again next summer,” he said, grimacing, and wondering what Max would do, if they weren’t allowed to stay. Leave, maybe, he thought—she was seventeen, and she could get a job herself.

He ended up teaching Steve to surf, after showing off his best efforts. When he swam back, panting, Steve looked properly impressed, and even more tanned. “Teach me,” he said, and Billy leaned in to kiss him again, nodding.

“That gonna get you to like me enough to let me stay?” Billy asked, and Steve frowned at him, but Billy laughed, and leaned in for another kiss.

“Tomorrow?” Steve had whispered against his lips, and Billy got no sleep at all that night, he just rolled over every couple hours to check the clock, and see that another two minutes had passed.

Steve was fascinating to watch on the board, his tail trailing as he controlled it with his hands around either side, his abs flexing as he held himself in a kind of plank pose with the support of his tail. Billy watched, and realized he was drooling.

“You like me enough to keep me?” he asked that night, teasing, and Steve laughed.

“Ask me again tomorrow.”

Merpeople—or at least, Steve, Billy corrected mentally, realizing he was dealing with a sample size of one—loved bread. Like a cat, Billy thought, watching Steve eye his croissant, or bagel. He started just bringing one every morning for Steve, and some coffee, and it was hilarious watching the fluffy flesh of a croissant dangling between Steve’s shark-like teeth. He waited every morning, and even though Billy wasn’t sure whether Steve was waiting for Billy or the bread he was carrying, he got heart palpitations every time he came down the ramp to the dock, and he could see the little lump of Steve’s head on his folded arms, the rest of him hanging off into the water.

“A few bagels aren’t enough to win me over,” Steve told him, and Billy’s stomach twisted, a little. He wished he hadn’t brought it up, kind of—the knowledge that he might have to leave hurt, like a sore tooth he couldn’t stop worrying at in his mouth. “Maybe more croissants,�� Steve said, smiling, and Billy brought him more croissants.

When they’d arrived, they’d discovered the town was filled with mermaid stuff, and at first, Max and Billy had snickered at it, because surely even if there’d been a merperson or two living near a human town once, they’d died decades ago, or they just traded with fishing boats, far out at sea. They hadn’t considered the amount of people in wheelchairs, or the spray bottles close to hand.

When Billy suggested he bring lunch down from town, Steve swam over to haul himself up—his tail flashing in the light—through the bottom of one of the little sheds on the dock. Moments later, he banged the door open, wheeling out in an old rusty wheelchair. He spun it in a circle, waiting for Billy to climb out of the water, and then zipped ahead up the ramp to the path.

“Wait up, jesus,” Billy yelled after him, and Steve laughed, the muscles in his arms mesmerizing as they spun the wheels. He slowed down eventually, panting, enough for Billy to jog and catch up. “...lemme know if you want me to push,” Billy told him, and Steve snorted.

“Touch my chair and die,” he said.

“Fair enough,” Billy said, holding his hands up, and Steve laughed.

“It makes me…” he squinted, thinking. “...seasick…?” he offered, and Billy nodded, trotting along next to him.

“Motion-sick, probably,” he suggested, and Steve mouthed it as he rolled along.

The lady at the shaved ice stand leaned out and folded her arms on the edge of the little window, laughing at Steve. “You know they make those that work!” she called, and he flipped her off. “They don’t have to be electric! They make ‘em that just move smoothly.”

“It’ll just rust in my shed,” Steve told her, shrugging. “It’s fine.” As they waited for their tacos, Steve pulled up to a table, and his rusty, janky wheels kept rolling backwards, until Steve sighed and bent down to stuff some rocks under there.

“My friend Robin and I went in together on a nicer one,” he said, “—but I can’t park it in the shed. This one’s not so bad,” and Billy’s perception of it shifted a bit—maybe it was more like getting stuck with an old beater car occasionally, instead of something Steve needed help with. “...want to wander around, after?” Billy asked. “I haven’t got any souvenirs yet.”

Steve paused, then licked his lips. “Planning your trip home already?”

“...dunno yet,” Billy said, the invitation unspoken between them. It seemed ridiculous to want to stay so badly just because he’d met a pair of gorgeously tanned shoulders and a teasing smile, but it also wasn’t...hard to imagine, lingering on the island to go snorkeling with Steve, and learning about the reefs—he’d absorbed enough for a few semesters of marine biology, he was fairly sure, but told as stories, just off-handed things Steve had seen—and Billy was already wanting a drysuit, so he could go in the fall. Maybe Billy could get a job on a fishing boat, he thought vaguely, or help out in one of the shops.

If Steve would invite him.

Steve had slid his hands under Billy’s swimsuit a few times, pressing him back on their rock, or on the docks, rocking into him as Billy panted and gasped and fell apart under his hands—but he never said anything, after, and Billy hesitated to ask whether it was...anything, to Steve. Maybe he picks an idiot every summer, he thought, watching Steve smile at the depictions of mermaids on every surface of every shop on the main street.

“You all spend so much time keeping everything dry and dead,” he said, grinning over at Billy, who’d been anticipating a comment on the mermaid’s hourglass-like proportions, not her lack of water damage.

“...oh,” he said.

“I have a figurehead like that, but covered in anemones,” Steve said, cocking his head. “It’s beautiful.”

“I mean...you could...plant a vine on it, maybe?”

Steve nodded. “Put it outside in the rain, let it grow.” The lady behind the counter sighed, rolling her eyes, and Steve laughed.

“There’s a whole movement to ‘preserve’ our art,” he whispered to Billy. “Which mostly means they don’t let it become our art.”

“Huh,” Billy said, wondering whether human houses looked like museums, or mausoleums, to merpeople.

“Not to say that I’d pour water on your television set, or drop your mattress in the bay,” Steve said, grimacing a little, and watching Billy’s face. “I get that much.” He looked kind of uncomfortable with the lady behind the counter glaring at him, ducking his head.

Billy leaned to kiss him. He nearly steadied himself on the chair, and then remembering it would roll, and just held his hands away. Steve grinned up at him, particularly at his outstretched hands, and yanked Billy down on his not very much of a lap, hurriedly curling his tail up and around Billy’s waist as Billy threatened to slide down the smooth scales to the ground. Billy threw his arms around Steve’s neck, wide-eyed, as Steve held the wheels firmly, keeping the chair from rolling backwards under the weight of two grown men.

“Let’s go,” Steve whispered, and Billy nodded, breathing Steve’s sun-and-salt smell, and wondering whether it was okay to ask whether Steve would consider inviting him to stay—just until the next season, Billy thought, as the chair and Steve’s tail moved under him. Until the next summer, when he could ask whether Steve wanted him to stay again, or whether he wanted Billy gone.

After staying a whole year, Billy thought he might not have it in him to ask whether Steve was tired of him yet, but the thought of waking every morning to run down to the docks with coffee and banana bread was addictive, and he tried not to think about the end.

Billy ran into the lady who’d stamped his passport, and caught himself staring at her tanned legs propped up on the railing. “Oh, I’m human,” she said, laughing. “But I love it here. I can even shop in the little bookstore, imagine,” she said, and now that Billy thought about it, he realized it had an elevator in the back, and little lifts for the walkways along the higher shelves. “I’ve never had someone offer to lift me into their cafe, here,” she said, her nose wrinkled, and Billy nodded slowly.

“Shoot that thing!” she yelled, when she saw Steve’s awful old wheelchair, and he flipped her off.

“We can only invite a few people,” Steve told him, as they ate noodle bowls. “It’s for somebody you marry, you know, their family, maybe. Or if you leave the island, and have a kid.”

“Yeah,” Billy said softly, hearing the message clearly—invitations were not to be wasted, and Billy wasn’t special enough to keep. He finished his lunch, trying not to feel all butthurt about it. Max would probably understand.

Steve kissed him again, on the docks, and Billy leaned into it, feeling the familiar pressure of tears in his sinuses, and behind his eyes. He had three weeks left, he told himself. Three more weeks. Steve slid a hand up the back of Billy’s head, humming against his mouth, and Billy let himself go soft in his arms.

When they returned to the docks, Steve dug a big beach blanket out, and they spread it out on the sand, and Billy stayed out that night, losing himself in Steve’s warm hands and mouth, under stars like he’d never seen before.

Steve was watching his face the next morning, with a little frown, and Billy pulled away, sitting up.

“Better than croissants?” Billy asked, smirking a little, and Steve sighed.

“Was that what this was? Fucking me won’t make me give you an invitation,” he said. He didn’t look amused, the way he had over the bagels, and Billy wondered whether it had worked, a little. Billy’d always had a talented mouth.

“I won’t know if I don’t try, will I,” he said, laughing. “Maybe another round will help?”

“...I have to go,” Steve said, and he didn’t even fold up the blanket, just pushed himself off the edge and slid over the wet sand into the water, gone in a flip of tail. Billy watched for long minutes to see whether he’d come back—they’d been spending every day together, but probably Steve had stuff he needed to do, all the things he’d done before Billy had shown up at the island, easy with his body and his affections.

Billy folded up the blanket, and sat it in the shed, looking around. There really wasn’t much in there—it was the size of a small bathroom, with some knives for fishing, and a frayed net, and the beat-up wheelchair.

It smelled like Steve, and Billy stood and breathed, his eyes blurring with tears.

Steve didn’t come back, and after an hour or so Billy walked home, and ran into Max returning. “Billy!” she said, with a wide grin. “Nice night? I was out getting breakfast.” She told him about somebody named El, and somebody else named Lucas, and a Dustin.

Max was making friends too, he realized, which kind of made everything worse—she was doing her best, and Billy was just mooning over some guy who thought he was barely good enough for a fuck on the beach. She’d even met their families, he realized, listening, and registered that he hadn’t met any of Steve’s friends. He groaned into the pillows tossed around on the mat floor, and sighed.

“Should I stop seeing him?” he asked, mostly at the ceiling.

“I dunno why now,” Max said. “You’re not gonna find somebody else in a couple weeks.”

“Shit,” Billy groaned again.

“We can try again next summer,” Max said. “I like it here.”

The idea of returning the next summer, once Steve was bored, was enough to make Billy clench his jaw tight against the pillow he was hugging, squeezing his eyes shut against tears. “...yeah,” he said softly.

“God, you sound tragic,” she sighed, wandering over and dropping to sit on his butt. He grunted. “It’s fine, jesus. Worst case scenario we have a, like, vacation home. The vampire dude said we didn’t have to pay taxes on it.”

“Yeah, just pay for plane fare,” Billy sighed.

“He’s out there, y’know,” she said, “—tanning,” and Billy scrambled up so fast he dumped her with a drum noise on the taut mats.

When he swam out, Steve just stared out to sea, and Billy clung to the edge of the rock, biting his lips.

“I’m not giving you one of my invitations,” Steve said. “So stop trying to manipulate me into it.”

“Yeah,” Billy said, kind of wishing they’d never met. “Yeah, okay. Do—is that all, or are you sticking around?”

“I’ll stay,” Steve said, frowning at him, “—if you still wanna waste your time on somebody who’s not—how do you say it? Putting out?”

“...it’s not a waste of time,” Billy told him, swallowing hard. “I just wanted it to last longer, is all—” and Steve’s eyes narrowed intently. He grabbed Billy around the back of the neck, and yanked him into a kiss.

The remaining weeks, he took Billy snorkeling, and they had sex every night under the stars, Billy panting Steve’s name, and Steve holding him so tightly it almost hurt. Billy took him to meet Max, and she eyed him warily, but Billy fought and succeeded at securing Steve a plate of brownies, and he was vocally appreciative. She softened a little, at that.

Two days before they had to leave, Steve was lying next to Billy on the wet sand, the waves lapping up nearly to their waists. His shoulder was warm under Billy’s head, and smelled like the high ocean waves.

“...d’you think you’ll come back next summer,” Steve asked, and Billy snorted.

“Depends on whether I can afford airfare,” he said, sighing. “Depends on whether I can get a job somewhere that doesn’t need me in the summer.”

“...so I might just never see you again?” Steve asked flatly, and Billy laughed, shrugging.

“I don’t know,” he said, “—do you want to?”

“...fuck you,” Steve sighed, and Billy pushed himself up to frown at Steve’s face.

“I don’t know what you want,” he said, glaring back at Steve’s narrowed brown eyes. “You wanted me to shut up about staying. What am I supposed to say?”

Steve bit his lips together, and looked away. “...you know I’m gonna give you an invitation. You can just tell me.”

“What,” Billy whispered, scrambling to sit up, his heart pounding as Steve flopped over to scrabble around under his wheelchair, his tail flapping around a little in concentration, like a cat’s. He held an envelope out to Billy without even looking over.

“There,” he said. “All yours.”

“What,” Billy breathed, and then he half-crumpled it, opening it clumsily. “You—you’re giving me one?”

“Two,” Steve said, flatly, frowning down at the sand under his hands. “You and Max, right?”

“Holy shit,” Billy whispered, scrambling over to kiss him, once, then twice, relishing the little noise Steve made in the back of his throat when his lip slid between Billy’s teeth. “I have to go tell her,” he said, half laughing, his vision blurring with tears.

“Okay,” Steve said, quietly, and Billy hugged him before scrambling up and running back to the house.

Max stared at the two calligraphed invitations on the odd plasticky “paper” the merfolk used, written in Sharpie, and shook her head slowly. “You did it,” she said, and Billy laughed, nodding.

“He wanted me to stay enough,” he said, wiping his eyes, and desperately wanting Max to offer to handle the paperwork, so he could run back and kiss Steve.

There was a knock on the door. Max ran and opened it, and a short-haired woman wheeled in in a rainbow overall dress, and a small, fancy electric wheelchair, her tail the reds and oranges of a sunset. Billy never quite stopped being envious of how pretty the merpeople were.

“Steve gave you his invites, didn’t he,” she said, and Max slid them around her back, her eyes narrowing.

“...yeah,” Billy said, warily.

“Give them back to him,” she ordered, glaring between them. “He’s been saving those a long-ass time. He’s got plans for those, and he doesn’t need guilt-tripping by a pair of manipulative orphans, jesus.”

“I didn’t guilt-trip him,” Billy said, feeling guilty, suddenly, and remembering Steve’s stiffness as he handed them over. “I didn’t,” he said, less certainly. “...he...he just likes me, he wants me to stay—”

“He’s known you three months, and you told him you fucked him to get someplace nice for your sister to live,” she said crisply. “Give them back.”

“He’s not giving them back,” Max hissed, but she was staring at Billy in horror.

“I didn’t say that,” Billy said, waving his hands. “I didn’t! Not...exactly.”

“Fuck you,” the woman said, glaring. “You pressured him.”

“Fuck,” Billy agreed, his eyes tearing up again. “Lemme—lemme go talk to him. Max, give—give ‘em here.”

“No,” she said, sounding choked, but he walked over and grabbed them, and hugged her.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said under his breath, for her ears only, and ran back out.

Steve was perched up on his rock again, and Billy grabbed his surfboard and sat on it to glide out, paddling with his hands. The water was clear under him, his shadow passing over the anemones on the reef, and he watched the fish darting around, swallowing repeatedly.

“Hey,” he said, when he got close enough, and Steve’s head jerked around, glowering warily.

“...you came back,” he said.

“...you want me to stay, right,” Billy said, cutting straight to the chase. “You gave me these because you want me to stay.” Steve frowned back at him, and Billy’s heart sank. “Answer,” he said, his throat closing around the word.

“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it,” Steve said, reaching out, but he just grabbed Billy’s board before he could drift into the rip tide again. “You wanted to stay.” He was tense, and he wouldn’t meet Billy’s eyes.

“What do you want,” Billy asked again. “...because I think your friend Robin’s in my house, and she says I guilted you into it, talking about Max. Do you...if I didn’t need an invite. Would you want me to stay?”

“...I guess,” Steve sighed, and Billy swung his leg over the board, dumping himself straight down in the water, because he was definitely about to make some kind of awful noise, and the sea felt good on his hot, wet cheeks. Steve couldn’t see him crying underwater, he thought, grabbing a jut of rock to keep himself from floating back up.

He wished he could take a few slow breaths, he thought, closing his eyes, and then something brushed his arm. He opened his eyes on Steve’s wide-eyed face, his hair swirling in the water. Billy bit his lips together harder, his hands clenching on the rock, and Steve shook his head, pointing up.

“Up,” he mouthed. “Come on.”

Billy let himself be hauled upwards, and pushed up on the rock again, like when they’d first met.

“What are you doing,” Steve asked, hanging on to Billy’s surfboard.

“Nothing,” Billy said, keeping his voice level. “I thought you wanted me to stay. For me. You can have your invites back. I didn’t—” he took a deep breath, hearing Steve’s voice say stop trying to manipulate me, and Robin’s guilt-tripping. “I fucking know I’m pathetic, okay, you don’t have to pity me. Sorry I—sorry I fucking tried, jesus, I just—” he shut his eyes tightly again, laughing as he imagined Robin’s disgusted look knowing Billy’d gone out and cried.

“Wait, fuck,” Steve whispered, clambering up next to him, where Billy barely fit by himself, since it was high tide. He was warm from the sun, his tanned skin gleaming with water droplets, and Billy salivated, because his dick obviously hadn’t gotten the message it wasn’t wanted. “Wait,” Steve said, half on top of him, his weight grating Billy’s shoulder blades against the rock. Billy didn’t really mind. “You only want to stay if—if I want you, what—what does that mean—” His brown eyes were huge.

“...don’t really know how to be clearer,” Billy told him, unable to pull his eyes from Steve’s mouth.

“You don’t want to stay unless I’m happy about it,” Steve said, grabbing Billy’s hands.

“Yeah, that’s kinda how it gets, when you fall for somebody,” Billy told him, raising his eyebrows, and Steve took a shuddery breath and kissed him again. He didn’t stop, though, he just kissed Billy and kissed him, laughing shakily, his eyes welling up with tears.

“Don’t go,” he whispered, as Billy clung to him and the rock, trying to keep them from tumbling off. “I want you here, I want you. Stay with me.”

“I’m what you want?” Billy asked, startled, his brain hazy from warm kisses, and the scrape of pointed teeth. “‘M yours then,” he whispered. “All—all of me. S’yours.”

They laid there so long, whispering and giggling, that Billy had tan lines of Steve’s fingers on his shoulder for months.

Here are the other Harringrove April prompts I’ve done!

#Harringrove April #Mermay #Almost #Harringrove #Steve's got a tail #Billy's got a surfboard

51 notes · View notes

hannjunkyu · 3 years

Text

hello! i’m peyton & i’m going to be writing for han junkyu aka the cookie skeleton aka the cringiest man on either of the islands, probably (but he doesn’t believe in cringe culture so it’s okay!) go ahead and leave a ♡ if you’re interested in plotting with us and i’ll send you an im!

𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐑. 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓.

twenty-one and clueless. do not ask him about his future.

very artistically-inclined. his parents (especially his mom) placed greater emphasis on self-expression and creativity than education while he was growing up, which greatly shaped the man he is now. he’s been painting for longer than he’s been reading, so you could say it’s his most ~refined~ skill

but he’s also been dancing and acting for a while, too. initially trained in contemporary dance, but he’s more interested in hiphop now! also super into singing... i’ll just say this: if it’s creative/artistic, he’s into it! does have a tendency to spread himself too thin and has always been this way, so while he has various skills, he lacks a specialization.

used to be really promising. claimed that he was going to be a star and everyone believed it. unlike most kids, he had a very clear plan and was headed in the right direction. plus, he was well-known in the community, well-liked. very respectable kid

perhaps his parents gave him the wrong impression bc he ended up dropping out of high school and he was like “haha you told me education wasn’t that important” and they were like “we didn’t think you’d drop out??!?!”

and then things started going downhill because he kept traveling to auditions and participating in online auditions as well for all kinds of companies (modeling agencies, acting agencies, idol agencies bc mf didn’t know exactly what he wanted to do, still kind of doesn’t) and most of the time he was able to pass the blind round but every time agents found out he’s a hs dropout, they put a strike through his name.

ended up FINALLY getting an offer in early 2020-ish but was told he’d have to relocate to seoul and, as it turns out, junkyu’s a fuckin coward. didn’t want to leave his people so he turned it down much to..... Everyone’s dismay

now he’s working part-time as a cashier / sales associate / whatever at graciegrace! wants to work full-time, but atm he’s stuck begging his coworkers to give him some shifts and upselling like crazy to try to prove that he!!!! deserves to be a full-time employee!!!!

yes it’s the most expensive store on the island... yes he only works there because he needs that employee discount... yes he wears exclusively graciegrace clothes while he’s on shift and nonchalantly strikes poses like he’s a fuckin model while he’s supposed to be cleaning the shelfs and organizing displays... mind ur business!

his parents don’t really like him atm because he had Such A Bright Future and now he’s a retail worker, so he’s living on his own which means he needs money even more bc he doesn’t have his parents to leech off of. if not to feed himself, then to feed his trio of hamsters. so he sells artwork as a side hustle

mainly commissioned stuff bc if he just painted what he wants to, it would be anime girls sipping lemonade by the pool and no one would buy any of his pieces, so. gotta give the people what they want..... he likes to work in a ~dreamy~ kind of style with pastel color schemes, but he’ll rly do whatever if he’s getting that coin

junkyu’s obsessed with anime. started watching it shortly before he dropped out of hs, got really into it as a method of escapism after he dropped out and realized that life is hard. 9/10 times, if he’s meeting someone for the first time, he’s going to compare them to some background character from a niche anime that only nerds like him would know. i’m Personally not an anime fan so i can’t provide examples but jus take my word for it

kind of speaks japanese? he’s been studying it for a few years because he wants to watch anime without subtitles and he’s...... decent, but not fluent by any means

currently has hot pink hair because (1) he wants to and (2) he’s matching with an anime girl he likes atm.... guess who she is

obsessed with all things pretty/cute. buys a lot of sweets simply for the packaging which he REALLY needs to stop doing because he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, so they usually go to waste. collects stuffed animals, not afraid to admit it. will go crazy any time he sees a cat, dog or any other soft animal that will let him pet it.

his wardrobe’s full of pink, his home is full of pink, his phone case is pink, his favorite pair of sneakers is pink. kind of shocking to anyone who’s just getting to know him because who the fuck can see SO MUCH of one color and not get sick of it... junkyu! that’s who!

still wants to be involved in the entertainment business, kinda too scared to leave so these days he’s planning on opening up a theater in town. except apparently there are certain qualifications you have to have and..... Money’s Involved..... so he’s currently working towards a ged, don’t ask him about it

has a ton of random luggage and packed boxes in his house bc he’s lowkey always thinking about leaving, just doesn’t really have the guts to actually do it.

doesn’t believe in cringe culture, which on one hand is good for him but on the other hand, bad for everyone else. kinda hard to handle sometimes because you want to think he’s joking when he acts the way he does, but he never is.

seems like an ~elegant artist~ when you see him from a distance, which is admittedly very intentional. dramatic, always thinking that people who might happen to spot him should fall in love with him immediately so he tries to be Oddly Mesmerizing in everything he does. the illusion always breaks when he opens his mouth.

goes for a run every single morning! if you live on starden island and happen to be an early bird, you’ve probably seen him far more often than you’d ever want to.

aesthetics: rose petals on the floor, exaggerated confessions of love to distant acquaintances, muted cartoons in the middle of the night, strawberry icecream, sunny days, the feeling of a stranger’s dog coming over to greet you, clicking immediately with new people, the smell of fresh laundry, sunrises, 90′s anime, knowing you’re going to regret something and doing it anyway, neon shutter sunglasses.

#intro.

17 notes · View notes

couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name · 5 years

Text

if we do eventually get a faithful tv show/movie reboot of the percy jackson series, I want each story to AGGRESSIVELY take place in the year its supposed to. The soundtrack for lightning thief is entirely popular songs that came out in 2005. Missy Elliot's 'Lose Control' plays over the furies bus ride scene. Poseidon has a puka necklace. Luke has that layered popped collar polo shirt look going on. There's a scene where 'Just The Girl' is playing while Percy stares at Annabeth, but it then fades out and reveals the song is Annabeth's ringtone on her clunky early 2000s cell phone. Percy has heelys. 'Crazy Frog' is blaring inside the Lotus Hotel&Casino. The Livestrong bracelets and other rubber bracelets like it are everywhere, Grover has ten on each arm.

Sea of Monsters. 'Stupid Girls' is blaring when Annabeth makes her entrance in the gym fight. Grover has an ipod nano full of Hannah Montana and HSM songs. All the Aphrodite girls are wearing juicy tracksuits....so is Hermes. 'Bad Day' is Percy's jam. Grover has accumulated even More bracelets. Tyson has frosted tips, because I said so. During the final scene with Percy getting that note from Poseidon, the opening of 'Welcome to the Black Parade' starts up, pauses for a moment when Thalia is reborn, and picks back up with the guitar and runs into the end credits.

Titan's Curse. Percy has gotten that iconic swoopy skater hair cut, and he has bright blue braces. Skinny jeans. Thalia dresses like Avril Lavigne and has the raccoon eyes look. Apollo is wearing clothes that weren't the style yet in 2006, because he looked into the future.

Battle of the Labyrinth. It's 2007 y'all. 'Girlfriend' is playing in the cafe where Percy and Annabeth are talking to Rachel. Ancient Greek translated copies of 'Deathly Hallows' are seen constantly in the background. Percy unironically believes that Spider-Man 3 was a good movie. The reason Mr. D isn't at camp to help Chris is because he's off trying to help Britney Spears. A camper made an 'Obama Girl' parody called 'Zeus Girl' and Hera wants her dead. Tyson is obsessed with the 'I Can Haz Cheezburger' meme. When Annabeth was planning to meet Percy for their movie not-date date, she wore a denim skirt with leggings underneath. Silena has those really obvious highlights. Percy keeps getting attacked by monsters or demigods right when he's about to take a bite of something, mirroring the iconic 'People Getting Punched Right Before Eating'. Aphrodite girls have moved onto vests and clip in colored hair. Nico's fashion is like PEAK 2007 hot topic shirts. 'Bubbly' is the theme for Calypso's Island. Probably a Fall Out Boy song plays for the big battle at the end.

Last Olympian. 2008. Grover is wearing a Team Jacob shirt. Nico is wearing a Team Edward shirt. They won't make eye contact the entire film. Percy is filming things with a flip camera. Jonas 👏 Brothers 👏 Are👏 On👏 The👏 Soundtrack👏. At the victory party on Olympus everyone has shutter shades. Rachel's wearing those hippie-ish headbands that go across your forehead. GLADIATOR SANDALS. 'Single Ladies' plays at some point, obviously. Meryl Streep's rendition of 'Mamma Mia' from the movie released that year plays over one of the battles. Think of all the blackberries and flip phones they were taking off random sleeping citizens to call Annabeth.

don't even get me STARTED on all the 2009 brand fun we could have with Heroes of Olympus and further on in Trials of Apollo....please someone get on this

#percy jackson #pjo #rick riordan #annabeth chase #nico di angelo #molly mumbles

12K notes · View notes

hypexion · 3 years

Text

Going to ramble about Batwoman season two for a bit. Did I even write anything about season one other than a thing about how Jacob Kane was in Doctor Who? I did not.

Oddly enough, Doctor Who is tangentially relevant, since season two of Batma’am is primarily concerned about the effect of its lead actress quitting. Large amounts of plotline are based around finding Kate, accepting Kate is dead, and then unaccepting that and debrainwashing Kate. Ultimately Alice just gives Kate a new face and then Kate leaves, and it’s a little drawn out.

Obviously with Kate floating around in narrative limbo, a new Batwoman is required. Enter Ryan Wilder, who finds the Batsuit and decides to keep it because Gotham City is a crime-ridden hellscape nobody should ever want to visit. Then Luke and Mary sort of adopt her into being Batwoman for real. I feel like I prefer Ryan as a protagonist, since she has a lot more friction with all of Gotham’s general dysfunction. Would be nice if she could catch a break sometime, of course, since she’s constantly being put through the wringer, both in the present and in her backstory. Hell, she spends a signifigant amount of time dying from Kryptonite poisoning, which is usually a problem only Kryptonians and Lex Luthor have to deal with.

Ryan also gets a connection to Alice, since I guess the protagonist needs a connection with the show’s most interesting character. Sadly, the protagonist can’t be the most interesting character when Alice is around. Somehow, her whole thing still works, even without Kate around to prop the whole thing up. She does kind of subvert the whole “chaotic villain“ thing, perhaps, since her acts of mayhem have actual reasoning behind them. Plus Alice has a lot of larger than life comic book energy that most of the characters lack in this comic book TV show.

Meanwhile the non-Alice villains are a little hit and miss. Black Mask is in the right kind of area, with all his big speeches and flippent murdering. I think it’s mean to be a surprise that he’s Roman Sionis, except they both talk in the same way, Sionis conveniently has some Snakebite, and also his company’s logo is literally a black mask. His overall plan seems a bit shakey, but he has the theatrics down, which is really what a Batperson villain wants.

The other main-ish villain is Safiyah, who runs the Secret Magic Island. Her main trait is being weirdly obsessed with Alice. While Sionis is busy being somewhat effectual, Safiyah seems caught in a cycle of screwing with Alice, and then regretting the consequences. She’s got this weird attitude of entitlement, where she’s all “gee Alice why did you burn down my stuff after I strung you along with the idea your sister was alive“, which ultimately leads to her getting stabbed by the Magic Coma Knife because she keeps messing around with Alice. Probably the only person surprised by this turn of events is Safiyah herself.

Other characters from season one who aren’t on the Bat Team essentially end up as loose ends. Jacob gets addicted to Snakebite to push him out of the way, while Sophie becomes Ryan’s sort-of nemesis since Sophie works for the private police force that ruined Ryan’s life. Indeed, the Crows overall end up being around for a bit of police brutality, before getting shuttered because the whole tension between Jacob and Batwoman was based around them being related. But after two seasons of the Crows only causing problems, they are now gone. Plus they had terrible parking security.

Overall it was all decently watchable, which I guess betreys terrible truths about how I feel about TV of something. Character arcs worked fairly well, except for Julia who just got written out. Main issues are that everyone except Ryan forgets how to be smart when mind-whammied Kate is around, and Luke only gets to be Batwing for like one scene. Otherwise, it was a generally comic book TV show.

#Batwoman #arrowverse

1 note · View note

lickrustdavid · 4 years

Note

Well now I have to ask number 10! Feel free to list more than one, I'd love to hear your horror recs. :)

Ahhh, thank you!! I have around 160-ish horror vhs tapes, and a bunch of dvd’s as well. I collect horror figurines and old halloween stuff, and now I sound like the largest horror nerd I am exposing myself.

I apologize for how many I listed. But they’re all good and you should def check them out!

Favorite Horror Movie: The Shining (my most recent tattoo was from the movie) Actually Scary: Conjuring 2 Movie Franchise: Conjuring Cinematic Universe Slasher: Halloween (1978) Zombie: World War Z -not really horror, but it’s the only zombie film I enjoy Monster: The Fly or Alien Clown: The Terrifier Body/Gore: Hostel Psychological: Midsommar Modern: Get Out or Conjuring VHS Era: Beetlejuice Cult: Re Animator or Creepshow Dark Comedy: Ready or Not Underrated: The Strangers or Funny Games (2007) Overrated: Texas Chainsaw Massacre Guilty Pleasure: The Uninvited or (this is embarrassing) The Apparition Family: Ghostbusters or Adams Family Least Favorite: Hereditary TV Series: Haunting of Hill House or Goosebumps Honorable Mentions: Sleepy Hollow, Dead Silence, Shutter Island, US

#ask #ask game #if anyone ever wants horror recs or anything like this #pls let me know #fraudulentzodiac

5 notes · View notes

massmurdera · 4 years

Text

2019 & 2010s Best/Worst

Because I like lists and cataloguing the dumb shit I cared about. As my brother once said after seeing and reviewing NOW YOU SEE ME on a lazy Sunday, ‘Some would say it was a waste of time, others might say it was a colossal waste of time.’

I’ll admit, it’s a bit over-the-top. Particularly including the Pats, but yeah, in the Tom Brady era that started when I was 14 as a Freshman in high school to 33 years old now and wrapping up soon-ish (?), there’s not a chance in hell I’ll care as intimately about this shit. I grew up with it at just the right time.

2019 MOVIES TOP TIER 1) Once Upon a Time in Hollywood 2) Uncut Gems 2nd TIER 3) Knives Out 4) Parasite 5) Little Women 6) Midsommer 3rd TIER 7) John Wick III 8) Ready or Not 9) Marriage Story 10) Joker 11) Irishman 12) Shazam! 13) Us UNDERRATED Ready or Not TOO LONG John Wick III; Irishman SOLID El Camino GOOD BAD 6 Underground OK 21 Bridges; Avengers: Endgame; Dolemite is my Name; Dragged Across Concrete; Fighting With My Family; Hustlers; Knock Down the House; Longshot; the Report; Two Popes MEH Always Be My Maybe; Death of Dick Long; High Flying Bird; Spiderman: Far From Home; Standoff at Sparrow Creek DISAPPOINTING Hobbs & Shaw; Toy Story 4; Triple Frontier SUCK Laundromat; Under the Silver Lake OVERRATED Ad Astra; Booksmart; the Farewell FUNNIEST SCENE Dicaprio flipping out in movie trailer BEST CLIMAX/ENDING Once Upon a Time; Uncut Gems HAVEN’T SEEN 1917; Apollo 11; Beach Bum; Dark Waters; Ford vs Ferrari; Honey Boy; Jojo Rabbit; the Lighthouse; Star Wars 2019 TV TOP TIER 1) Succession 2) Fleabag 3) Watchmen 2nd TIER 4) When They See Us 5) Barry 6) Unbelievable 7) Chernobyl 8) Sex Education DAMN GOOD Big Mouth; the Boys; Brockmire; Derry Girls; Euphoria; Loudest Voice; Mindhunter; Pen15; Righteous Gemstones; Veep WATCHABLE Atypical; Bosch; Dark; Goliath; Karate Kid; Kominsky Method; Mandalorian; Mr Robot; Mrs Fletcher; Russian Doll; Warrior HIGH/LOW I Think You Should Leave SHIT END FOR ALL-TIME GREAT Game of Thrones HALF-WATCH Living With Yourself; Raising Dion; the Society NOT UP TO STANDARD Stranger Things; GLOW; Killing Eve; True Detective BAD Luther; Shameless; Silicon Valley; SNL SUCK 13 Reasons Why; Big Little Lies; the Witcher FUNNIEST Desus & Mero DOCS 1) Fyre: both 2) Ted Bundy Tapes 3) American Factory 4) Leaving Neverland STAND-UP SPECIALS 1) Burr 2) Chappelle 3) Jeselnik 4) Birbiglia 5) Gulman BEHIND ON SHOWS I DIG Brooklyn 99; Catastrophe; Corporate; Expanse; Good Place; It’s Always Sunny; Letterkenny 2010s TV DRAMA 1) Breaking Bad 2) Game of Thrones 3) Justified 4) Mad Men 5) Hannibal 6) Banshee ANTHOLOGY/LIMITED SERIES 1) Fargo SII 2) True Detective SI 3) When They See Us 4) People Vs OJ Simpson 5) Chernobyl 6) Show Me a Hero 7) the Night Of 8) Honorable Woman COMEDY 1) Atlanta 2) Fleabag 3) Veep 4) Big Mouth 5) Parks & Rec 6) Rick & Morty 7) Nathan for You 8) Review 9) American Vandal HIT/MISS Black Mirror OVERRATED Boardwalk Empire; House of Cards; Peaky Blinders; Westworld UNDERRATED Banshee; Brockmire; Hannibal FUN HATE-WATCH Newsroom DOWNHILL Homeland; How I Met Your Mother; Legion; Sons of Anarchy HATED Girls; Leftovers; Rectify UNWATCHABLE Twin Peaks BEST ENDINGS Breaking Bad; Justified; Fleabag; Parks & Rec DUMBEST ENDING Dexter; Sons of Anarchy LATE NIGHT Desus & Mero POLITICAL John Oliver 2010s MOVIES 2010 Social Network Animal Kingdom; the Fighter; Four Lions; Inside Job; Jackass 3; MacGruber; Shutter Island; Toy Story 3; True Grit; Winter’s Bone 2011 the Raid Descendents; Drive; Fast Five; the Guard; Mission Impossible 4; Take This Waltz; Warrior 2012 Magic Mike 21 Jump Street; Argo; Cabin in the Woods; Chronicle; Django Unchained; Goon; Looper; Queen of Versailles; Silver Linings Playbook; Skyfall 2013 Wolf of Wall Street Before Midnight; the Conjuring; Gravity; Her; Inside Llewyn Davis; Prisoners; Short-Term 12 2014 John Wick the Drop; Edge of Tomorrow; Gone Girl; the Guest; Lego Movie; Nightcrawler; the Raid 2; Whiplash 2015 Mad Max 7 Days in Hell; Big Short; Brooklyn; Creed; Ex Machina; Fast 7; It Follows; Logan; Magic Mike XXL; the Martian; Me and Earl and the Dying Girl; Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation; Sicario 2016 the Nice Guys Deadpool; Edge of Seventeen; Everybody Wants Some!; Green Room; La La Land; Manchester By the Sea; Moonlight; OJ: Made in America; Popstar; Sing Street; Weiner 2017 Get Out Blade Runner 2049; Coco; Dunkirk; Lady Bird; Logan; Thor Ragnorak; Tour de Pharmacy 2018 Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse BlacKKKlansman; Den of Thieves; Hereditary; If Beale Street Could Talk; Minding the Gap; Sorry to Bother You

THE BEST Mad Max BEST DOC OJ: Made in America FUNNIEST DOC Tickled UNDERRATED DOC Weiner HORROR Hereditary FAVORITE/FUNNIEST PERFORMANCE Ryan Gosling (Nice Guys) DESERVED 5 SEQUELS the Nice Guys SUPERHERO Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse WAR Dunkirk BEST FIGHT SCENES the Raid UNDERRATED any Lonely Island project NICE TRY Dark Knight Rises; Inception; Interstellar; Widows STAND-UP 2010s FAVORITE Bill Burr NEXT BEST Ali Wong; Anthony Jeselnik; Kyle Kinane; Bert Kreischer; Marc Maron; John Mulaney; Patton Oswalt; Rory Scovel; Tom Segura COMEBACK Chappelle DOWNFALL Louis CK DIED BEFORE PRIME Patrice O’Neal, Greg Giraldo UNDERRATED Joe Derosa MUST-SEE LIVE Robert Kelly PODCASTS 2010s BEST/FUNNIEST/UNDERRATED Walking the Room RUNNER-UP 600 Dollar Podcast ONE-MAN RANT Bill Burr Monday Morning Podcast SPORTS Pardon My Take RIFFING Bodega Boys HISTORY/COMEDY Dollop HISTORY DEEP DIVE Hardcore History MOVIES Rewatchables HATE-WATCH CRITICISM West Wing Thing POP CULTURE/FILM Frotcast MIXED Revisionist History GOOD/BAD Joe Rogan: GOOD: propping up comic friends; BAD: useful idiot for propping up bad faith fascists who should be put out to pasture INTERNET CURIOSITY Reply All LEFTIST POLITICS Chapo Trap House TRUE CRIME In the Dark ADVICE Don’t Take Bullshit From Fuckers LAME Pod Save America OVERRATED Missing Richard Simmons DIDN’T LIKE S-Town SERIAL Season 3>Season 1 TRUMP Trump, Inc SPORTS SCHAUDENFREUDE Fuck the Chargers OKAY Bill Simmons WTF WITH MARON good when he talks to comics MURDER My Favorite Murder OTHER GOOD ONES Hound Tall; Press Box

2010s MUSIC FAVORITE anything Brian Fallon ROCK BAND Menzingers SONG Robyn-‘Dancing On My Own’ POP-PUNK BAND Wonder Years LIVE ALBUM Horrible Crowes-‘Elsie’ HEAVY BAND Every Time I Die ELECTRONIC Chvrches SOLO Rihanna COVER ALBUM Dustin Kensrue-‘Thoughts on a Different Blood’ GO-TO AT GYM Story So Far OFF THE INEVITABLE & IRRECOVERABLE DEEP END Kanye KIND OF LIKE THE MUSIC/HATE THE PERSON: LIKE KANYE Taylor Swift, Bieber THOUGHT I’D HATE BUT DOES NOT SUCK Lana Del Rey; Post Malone OTHER FAVES 1975; Arctic Monkeys; Beach Slang; Black Keys; Bon Iver; Carly Rae Jepsen; the National; Thrice MIXED Chance the Rapper; Kendrick Lamar I’ll be honest I spent far more time listening to podcasts nearly all the time and just listened to mostly the same couple of things I liked. 2010s PATRIOTS 2010s BEST GAMES 1) Seahawks Super Bowl 2) Falcons Super Bowl 3) Ravens 2015 Divisional 4) Chiefs 2019 AFCCG UNDERRATED CLASSIC Ravens 2015 Divisional BRADY/GRONK GO DOWN LIKE CHAMPS 1) 2018 Eagles Super Bowl 2) Broncos 2015 AFCCG: Brady’ offensive line was a sieve EITHER WAY Giants Super Bowl: game changed when Brady’s shoulder got fucked up by Tuck FAVORITE PLAYER TB12 MOST FUN/DOMINANT Gronk HEART OF TEAM Edelman BELOVED Wilfork ROCK SOLID 1) Hightower 2) McCourty 3) James White 1st BALLOT HALL OF FAMERS 1) Brady 2) Gronk 3) Revis LATER BALLOT 1) Edelman 2) Scarnecchia 3) Welker 4) Wilfork 5) Slater MAKING AN ARGUMENT Gilmore PATS HALL ONLY 1) McCourty 2) Hightower 3) Mankins 4) White 5) Gostkowski 6) Mayo 7) Chung UNDERRATED/GOOD VALUE 1) Amendola 2) Vollmer 3) Ninkovich 4) Chung 5) Woodhead DESERVED BETTER Welker UNSUNG Slater OVERRATED 1) Solder 2) Brandin Cooks NO-SHOWS Dolphins (Dec ’19); Jets Divisional (Jan ‘11) BEST REGULAR SEASON WINS 1) 2013 Broncos 2) 2017 Steelers 3) 2013 Saints BEST REGULAR SEASON LOSSES 1) 2012 49ers 2) 2016 Seahawks 3) 2014 Packers 4) 2015 Broncos LOL Miami Miracle: saved by winning Super Bowl LEAST TALENTED TEAM 1) 2013 by a mile 2) 2010 3) 2011 4) 2018 BEST TEAM 1) 2014 2) 2016 BEST PLAYS (NON-GRONK) 1) Butler INT Seahawks 2) Edelman TD pass vs Ravens 3) Buttfumble Jets 4) Edelman catch vs Falcons 5) Walk-off TD vs Falcons 6) Dan Connolly kick return 7) Brady TD pass to LaFell 2015 Divisional POUNDED TABLE TO DRAFT 1) Lamar Jackson 2) Kittle 3) AJ Brown 4) Honey Badger 5) Stefon Diggs WANTED BUT OUT OF REACH 1) Aaron Donald 2) Quenton Nelson 3) Derwin James 4) Hopkins 5) TJ Watt 6) Saquon 7) Keenan Allen 8) McCaffrey 9) Gurley WOULD’VE WON IT ALL IF NOT FOR INJURIES 2011, 2012, 2015, 2017. That’s football HEALTHIEST SEASON 2018 ROPE-A-DOPED/GOT BY ON VETERAN GUILE 2018: Belichick’s best coaching FAVORITE PICKS AT THE TIME OF GUYS I WANTED 1) Gronk 2) Hightower/Chandler Jones 3) Shaq Mason MOVES I HATED THAT I WAS WRONG ABOUT 1) Stephon Gilmore 2) trading Jamie Collins MOST IMPROVED Marcus Cannon BEST FIND Kyle Van Noy MOVE I LOVED getting Blount back the 2nd time IF BUTLER WASN’T BENCHED, DO THEY BEAT THE EAGLES? Yes 100%. If only because, if nothing else, he can tackle BUTLER’s INT KILLED THE ‘LEGION OF BOOM’ SEAHAWKS WOULD-BE DYNASTY Yes DRAFT REACH THAT MADE NO SENSE Jordan Richards: Tavon Wilson 2.0 BAD DRAFT MOVES 1) Dominique Easley 2) Cyrus Jones 3) Dobson 4) Mallett DIRTY SECRET Belichick sucks at drafting in 2nd round WOULD HAVE BEEN GOOD IF HE STAYED HEALTHY Malcolm Mitchell HATE TO SEE WALK BUT COULDN’T AFFORD 1) Trey Flowers 2) Chandler Jones 3) Jimmy G 4) Talib 5) Akiem Hicks DEFLATEGATE fraud/power trip job by Goodell/owners BRADY OR BELICHICK MORE VALUABLE Brady 100% DISAPPOINTING/GAMBLES 1) Ochocinco 2) Michael Bennett: got him 2 years too late 3) Fanene signing 4) Haynesworth BEST SHORT-TERM 1) Martellus Bennett 2) Chris Long 3) Revis 4) Brian Waters SUSPECT CHARACTERS/EDGY PERSONALITY MACHINES Brandon Spikes; Brandon Browner…SERIAL KILLER Aaron Hernandez PERSONALITY DISORDER DISASTER Antonio Brown: bad signing/unexpected HOW THE FUCK DID WE LOSE TO THAT GUY? Eli Manning/Nick Foles LIFESAVER Scarnecchia MCDANIELS Frustrating—but continuity matters REFS FUCKED OVER Gronk MISCELANNEOUS 2010s GOOD/ENJOY Bernie Sanders/AOC: people who actually want to get good done that’s long overdue…Lebron James; Stephen Curry; Kawhi; Zion Williamson; Luka Doncic...Lamar Jackson; Pat Mahomes; JJ Watt; Marshawn Lynch…Coach Ed Orgeron...David Ortiz…2011 Bruins…memes…Don Winslow crime novels…David Roth writing on Trump…David Grann non-fiction…’Book of Mormon’ DID NOT ENJOY Kyrie Irving…Deflategate…LeBron on the Heat…Bobby Valentine DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY PEOPLE LIKE ‘Between the World and Me’…Elon Musk…Lin Manuel-Miranda/’Hamilton’ INDEFENSIBLY AND INFURIATINGLY BAD THE MORE YOU LOOK AT IT Facebook…Obama Presidency/Democratic Party Leadership EVERYDAY DISASTER Media: CNN; Fox; MSNBC; NY Times Op-Ed…Trump/Republicans: Trump presidency was basically 2010s 9/11 for inevitable disastrous fallout & consequences my generation will never recover from…Grifters Trojan horsing way in shamelessly (Trump administration; Ben Shapiro; Alex Jones; Milo; Jordan Peterson, Tomi Lahren, etc.) and no repercussions...Republican Party basically one goal: to troll libs even with shitty ideas that suck FAVORITES WHO DIED Bourdain; Elmore Leonard; Garry Shandling; Muhammad Ali; Robin Williams; Tom Petty BEST TALENT CUT SHORT Philip Seymour Hoffman SHITTIEST PEOPLE WHO DIED Antonin Scalia; George HW Bush; John McCain; Osama; Steve Jobs; Whitey Bulger I FORGOT THAT SHIT HAPPENED Charlie Sheen loses it JEFFREY EPSTEIN did not kill himself WHAT DEFINES 2010s Amazon/Bezos…Climate Change/Gun Violence inaction…Journalism being taken over by Bane Capital-esque vultures/local places dying...one-sided Class War by the uber-rich…#MeToo…Netflix…Opioids…Outrage/Cancel culture…Police Injustice…Silicon Valley…Social Media…Superhero shit…Your mom

13 notes · View notes