#some dude started hitting on me (quite politely) when i was heading to the theater

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Love on the Line - Part 6

A/N: It’s finally here!!!

MASTERLIST      P1         P2           P3          P4          P5

Henry Cavill x Reader

If I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or want to be tagged; please let know!

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: heartache, language, angst, a pinch of lovey dovey fluff, cliffhanger 

*****************************

“Ohhh myy god…it’s official. This is the best burger of my life, hands down.”

What could easily be perceived as orgasmic music delightfully made its way to his ears. Seb chuckled studying the beautiful girl across from him admiring her combination of burger grease, ketchup, and mustard staining her chin. Y/N was too lost in the delicious meal to notice Seb gleefully watching her. In an instant his hand wiped away the condiment catching Y/N by surprise. She smiled bashfully blushing.

“Told you I knew a place.”

She sighed genuinely happy in them moment; “I could die a happy girl tomorrow because of this sweet, juicy perfection of a burger. All thanks to you.”

“What can I say? I have good taste.”

“And how did you run across this wonderous joint? Kinda feels off the beaten path.”

“Well, when you fly as much as me you learn to ask around. I never trust the internet when it comes to what I put in my body. I like to know what and where the locals scavenge for a tasty meal.”

“You continue to surprise me …I admire your style, Seb. Original, classy, and you no doubt just about charm the pants off any person who walks your way.”

“Is it working now?” He flashed his most flirtatious smile devouring another sweet potato fry.

Quick on her feet, she shot back with wit and attitude; “Should it be?”

“I gotta say Y/N, I’ve never been happier to wake someone up on a plane until I met you.”

“Damn, you’re suave, Seb. Fucking suave.”

Her eyes bulged from their sockets at her crude choice of words; “Shit, I’m sorry. Ah, fuck.”

His laugh flew through the air like wind on a crisp fall evening; her cheeks flushed.

“I’m not usually such a sailor. Guess you bring out the best in me.”

“I don’t mind a bit. In fact, I kinda like that I fluster you if I’m being honest.”

“So smooth. Are you sure you’re not from LA?  I get the sense that’s a requirement in these parts?”

He shook his head in stark disagreement; “Nope, sorry to disappoint you. Just a common foreigner.”

“And a handsome one at that.”

Shocked at her boldness, Y/N stared down at the remnants of food moving her fries as a distraction from his adorable gaze.

“I haven’t felt this at ease in …well I can’t remember. It’s nice.”

“Couldn’t agree more. I never actually asked what brings you here?”

Seb nervously scratched the back of his head; “Uh, work. Like I said, I travel pretty frequently. Hollywood is a hub of sorts for me. What brings you here?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll take the hint and pry later. Well, I’m a writer and some big exec wants to discuss the rights to my book series. So, yeah.”

“Y/N, that’s amazing! Are you secretly a super hero, part of the Avengers maybe?”

“Hahah, flattery will certainly get you far. No doubts there.”

“You’re too kind, Y/N. I’m definitely far from perfect.”

“Good. Perfection is overrated. Flaws are attractively imperfect. I mean at the end of the day we’re only human.”

“Consider me intrigued. I’ve gotta stop by a bookstore and check you out now!”

“Oh, hush! If you must know, I try to keep a low profile. So, uh, how long are you here for?”

“A couple days. I’ve got a bit of free time after my meeting tomorrow and thinking of hitting some trails while I’m here. Don’t get me wrong, LA is cool and all, but kinda suffocating. I try and maintain my distance if possible.”

“Oh, you’re preaching to the choir. The hustle and bustle of London is the literal definition of overwhelming. Countryside getaways were my one true savior. Sometimes London feels like an overpacked sardine can just waiting to explode.”

“So why did you stay?”

Y/N bit her lip trying to keep quiet. She hadn’t once though of Henry since meeting Seb. The lump in her throat appeared by just the mere mention of her subconscious. A part of her wasn’t ready to reveal the ache left beneath her exterior.

“Friends and family. What else ties a person to one place?”

“Love? A relationship?”

His coyness was flattering. She gave into his curiosity.  

“Are you asking if I’m single?” Her feigned expression was enough to send him into a fit of harmonious laughter.

“Maybe, maybe not. Depends on your answer, I guess. Part of me believes you’re too good to be true which usually means taken.”

“HA, no. Relationships and I are not on speaking terms at the moment.”

“Ah, sounds like heartbreak hotel is just around the corner….”

“I recently got out of a long-term relationship. So, to answer your question; Yes, I’m single and so not ready to mingle.”

“Are you assuming I’m hitting on you?” His shocked appearance made her question their entire encounter and if she’d been reading the signs wrong all along.

“Well, good thing I’m only here for the coffee and platonic company, hm?”

Seb raised his mug in salute as her stress magically melted away; “Break-ups suck. But allow for a real opportunity to see who you really are. Pain can be a bitter reminder of sadness and strength.”

“Wow, philosophizing so soon into our newly found friendship? A man after my own heart!”

Y/N playfully placed her hand over her heart, smiling for particular reason.

“How about if you’re interested and only 100% positive you aren’t sick of my company; we do dinner or even drinks? Whichever the lady chooses.”

Seb motioned in jest. Y/N tried to remember the last time she’d felt so carefree unable to pin down an exact memory. For far to long Y/N trapped herself in a fog allowing Henry to rule over her even when he wasn’t physically there. It had to stop, she had to quit placing him on a pedestal if she had any luck of moving on from their failed love affair. One torturous long minute passed as Seb’s nerved ramped up.

“Shit, I’m that weird dude, now. Forget I asked and let’s chalk it up to an amazing afternoon as strangers who leave this diner and head back to our own separate lives without consequence?”

Again, Y/N was speechless contemplating what she truly wanted to do next.

“First things first, stop blubbering, you seriously are ungodly handsome. And on second note, our chance meeting was unexpected but kinda sorta awesome. I’d love to see you again. I can’t recall the last time I’ve felt so free…and don’t even get me started on the belly aches due to your comedic skills.”

“Damn, a woman that speaks her mind. Are you sure you’re not in politics?”

“Nope, never, no thank you. Sooo, it’s a date?”

Seb furrowed his eyebrow in pleasant surprise; “You said it, not me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes; “Yeah, yeah. What do the kids say nowadays…. YOLO?”

“Yes, and please never say that again.”

A napkin holder was placed strategically resting against the window sill. Seb signaled to their middle-aged waitress; “Pardon me, do you have a pen handy?”

“Course, darling. Anything for ya.” She winked dropping the pen on the edge of the checkered table leaving them to privacy. He scribbled his number on the grainy piece of paper and slid it her way.

“I’ll leave the ball in your court and pass the privilege of reaching out to confirm details.”

“Wow, and they say chivalry is dead? Obviously not in Romania.”

“What fine establishment do they have you shacking up in?”

“Chateau Marmont. Long story short, my publisher fully embraces and understands my introverted nature and love of historical hotels. Call me an oddball.”

“Oddball.”

They snickered like school children slowly understanding their time was coming to a close. A power, a force of sorts gravitated Y/N towards him. He felt the same way.

“I happen to think women who especially history buffs are so incredibly magnificent. I haven’t met many as beautiful as you.

Their flirtation skyrocketed like flicks of fire firing between them.

“Knowledge is like your super power…. also, intelligent women are a complete turn on.”

She swatted his arm smiling like a kid in a candy shop.

“Come on, let’s get outta here. I’ll drop you off.”

He offered his hand helping Y/N to her feet. She lingered a second too long. With Seb a couple steps behind her, she missed the clinch of his fists and Seb’s reddened cheeks.

---The Next Day---

No luxury was forgotten as Y/N observed her decadent hotel room, but no matter how comfortable the memory foam or high thread count sheets, Y/N tossed restlessly the whole night. Her anxieties attacking her mind at every possible angle. Worry engulfed her clutching on her own insecurities. Her fear? 

That she’d walk into David Fincher’s office and leave very humiliated and very far from home. Henry’s ghost loitered just out of reach. A ghost can be many a thing; a memory, a daydream, a secret, but most times, a wish. Old or new. But that was the past, memories she must let go of.

Y/N stared at the ceiling wishing her bed to open up and swallow her whole finally dozing off to her temporary dreamland. But sunlight painted the walls like a colorful painting. She stretched and moaned at the sensations of her waking bones.

Making her way to the bathroom, Y/N’s phone chimed forcing her to circle back towards the obnoxious device.

Seb: Buna dimineata prietene! (Good Morning, friend)

Y/N: Romanian? So early in the morning. How dare you sir?

Blinking dots ran across the screen as Y/N waited impatiently for his witty response.

Seb: Never too early for greatness. As they say in the theater, break a leg! But not an actual leg because I might be looking forward to our date. Okay, good luck with the meeting!

Y/N: Thanks for the good juju. Same to you! Call you later.

She unconsciously rubbed at the tender swell in her chest, the fluttering in her belly kicking wildly. Butterflies. It’d been ages since she’d been this excited and it surprised Y/N. Maybe she was ready for something more…Y/N shook her head ridding herself of such silly thoughts. She knew better than to rush full steam ahead.

    ---Later that day---

The fourteenth floor was decorated to architectural perfection. Every space had its purpose and the décor elegantly stylish.  There she stood in the presence of cinematic greatness! As Y/N was about to pinch herself, she heard an echo of a name. Looking up, she searched for the unknown voice before landing on an enthusiastic figure waving her direction.

“Y/N! So nice to finally see you in person. I’m Meg.”

“Meg, so glad to put a face to a name. Thank you for having me.”

Both women walked down a hallway lined of glass walls smiling at those who looked up.

“David has talked nonstop about your series. So much so that I ended up devouring your books in three days. You’re freaking brilliant!”

“You really think so? I worked my ass off to get it through any publishing house. I was on the verge of chucking my ideas in the trash and getting an actual job that paid real money if it wasn’t for a last-ditch effort.”

“I’ve blocked off a thirty-minute window before his next meeting begins. He’s booked back-to-back today but by no means feel rushed. He hates when I push him. Don’t tell him I said that.”

Her head bobbed nonchalantly taking notice of the stunning scenery from the 17th level.

“Alright, here goes nothing.”

“Best of luck, Y/N.”

Meg knocked; “Come in!”

“David, this is Y/N.”

“Thanks, Meg. Close the door behind ya, we’ve got loads to discuss.”

David extended his hand towards Y/N’s shaking firmly. Y/N reminded herself to breath and to quickly find her manners.

She stuttered trying to remember common speech causing David to laugh aloud.

“Ms. Y/N, you okay?”

“Yyess—just a tad shell shocked. I mean, I can’t believe I’m standing in a room with the David Fincher. Unbelievable, really. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”

“I should be the one thanking you. You wrote one hell of a series that I trust can be transferred stunningly over to the silver screen where it can be fully appreciated. I’ve never seen someone mold together so many genres with such ease yet adding a layer of complexity. You, young lady, kept me guessing every twist and turn. That doesn’t happen too often if you catch my drift.”

“I-I, it’s just nice all those late-night writing sessions and waiting tables paid off. I’ll have you know I was on the verge of giving it all up and going back to school.”

“So, let’s get down to details. My team and I have come up with an offer that is totally open for negotiations.”

David slid a piece of paper into view. Y/N stared at the parchment gob smacked. Her jaw fell open at the written proposal.

“Holy shit.” Her eyes snapped up at her vulgar language; “Shit! I don’t mean to be impolite.”

“Ha, it’s a bit flabbergasting upon first glance but I promise you I want to do everything in my power to make this work for both parties.”

“Am I…am I reading this correctly?”

“Indeed, $10 million for the first two films, advancing to an additional $13, $15, $17 million for the last three. Of course, aiding us in the writer’s room to make sure we bring your story to live through your eyes. This will undoubtfully increase book sales across the board, I’d say upwards of $60 million if all goes accordingly. Also, I didn’t forget about making you an executive producer.”

“You’re kidding me, riight? Am I dreaming?”

“You’re gonna be a big deal once the tabloids get their sticky fingers on this. I mean this is going to skyrocket you to the likes of Stephenie Meyer and Suzanne Collins status. I mean, I had to outbid Peter Jackson just for a chance at directing this masterpiece. Darling, you’re all Hollywood can talk about right now.”

“Wow, I’m, uh, seriously grateful. I guess I’ve been shacking up in London far too long. I don’t really read celeb gossip so needless to say I’ve been in my own bubble.”

“A huge thank you goes out to Henry Cavill for pitching the initial idea. He helped get the recognition you deserve. Nice fellow, that one.”

Momentary shock came over her face, mouth still agape; “He—Henry had a hand in this?”

“Most certainly. He was the one who brought it to my attention. Of course, he mentioned the desire to work with me was motivation enough, but genuinely, he seemed passionate about the project.”

“I-I had no idea.” Switching gears as fast as possible Y/N trotted forth; “So realistically, when can we get the ball rolling?”

“Once the proper documents are signed and stamped, we’re good to go. If negotiations aren’t necessary, I’d say within the next month or so we can start casting calls, booking air fare, figuring out destination shoots, getting a manuscript going. It comes together faster than people think. How about this; you mull it over, call whoever you need, and get back at me in the next couple of days. Sound good?”

“Sounds more than good! I think I’ll be forever be in your debt, Mr. Fincher.”

“Please, call me David. We have a long road ahead of us that has truly stoked a fire in me, all thanks to you.”

Her nerves triumphed pushing Henry to the back of her mind. Y/N had bigger fish to fry.

“May I be frank with you, David?”

“By all means.”

“As you probably know Henry’s my ex-fiancée. Is it true you’re possibly considering him for the lead role?”

David looked around quizzically composing himself.

“I figured we’d have to address the elephant in the office. Yes, I was aware and I didn’t consider him to be malicious. He’s a genius actor and I figured it was worth a chat. But if you’re worried about anything, just say the word.”

“No, no. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize his successes. I agree, he’s an untapped actor full of surprising talent. I’ll be okay.”

“You promise?”

“Yep.”

“Great! Rest assured he isn’t even in the country. Believe he’s still galivanting about London.”

Silently pleading to change the subject, Y/N snapped out of it as quickly as she flew in to.

“This is a dream come true. I’m really looking forward to working with you and bringing my story to life.”

The squeaky hinge of the door alerted her to Meg’s foreboding presence. Taking a cue, Y/N stood up shaking David’s hand beaming like a child on Christmas Eve.

“I’ll be in touch, Y/N. Until then, enjoy your stay. Venture out. You’ll find LA isn’t all plastic and bullshit.”

“Oh, thank god. For a second I was getting nervous.”

“Haha! Meg, next appointment here?”

“Yes, he’s right around the cor--.”

“Y/N?”

She searched for the familiar voice unable to pin it down.

“Seb!? Wha...what are you doing here? I thought you had that big meeting today?”

“Uh, I do. That’s why I’m here.”

Sebastian nervously scratched his neck. Bewildered and thoroughly confused Y/N pushed on; “Wait a minute…. Are you an ...?”

“Actor, yes.”

“Whoa, whoa whoa. Wait.”

“Holy shit. You’re Shirley Lovecraft. Catchy pseudo name. So, you’re the brains behind this witty madness. What an interesting turn of events if I do say so myself, a happy one.”

“Agreed. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. Kinda embarrassing.”

“Don’t. A perfect afternoon with someone who wasn’t using me for fame or money? Did I mention you look breathtaking today?”

Her cheeks fumed with heat stirring her butterflies back to life. Seb’s hand stilled on her waist unwilling to let go as they continued gazing at the other.

“Earth to Seb?

Seb broke eye contact first glancing over at David. Y/N was too busy memorizing the glimmer of his cobalt blue eyes.

“Yes, ah! So rude of me. Hello there, so great of you to squeeze me in. I appreciate it.”

He directed his attention towards Y/N once more leaning close to the shell of her ear; “Still on for drinks later?”

“Definitely.”

His wink sparked a jolt to her core leaving her weak in the knees. Somehow, some way, Y/N mustered enough confidence to walk without tripping. She glowed the whole walk to the elevator. Y/N pressed the button too lost in thought to hear the quiet ding of arrival strolling straight into a hard chest. Enormous hands grasped her shoulders; “Oh! Apologies Ms.”

“No, it’s my fault. I wasn’t paying atten—oh shit.”

Only one particularly charming British accent that could send a chill down her spine, one very distinguishable voice indeed. 

“Y/N?”

Time froze icily still.

“What the fuck? Henry??”

~~~~~~~~~~

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[cesabutterflywrites]

Prince in the Storm: Chapter Sixteen

Summary: Contrary to popular belief, Virgil was sensitive. Most people saw him as some “spooky, broody dude”, when in reality he was just a private person. Teachers tried to open his mind up with a figurative crowbar. Everyone tried to get him to open up. Well, everyone except his best friend Talyn. They were the only one who understood his personality and inner workings just enough to be his friend. However, they haven’t seen his Marking. No one other than his parents have. Contrary to popular belief, Roman was sensitive. Most people saw him as a fanciful, dreamy, somewhat egotistical thespian who wanted nothing but to be the best of the best. Everyone cheered him on in his performances. Everyone praised his original works. Anything he made others enjoyed. People would whisper about his Marking, wondering where it was and when he would reveal it. He had a whole circle of friends, yet no one except his best friend Joan understood him. Joan was the only one who saw Roman’s insecurities. As students of Kingston High School, with zany principals and try-hard superintendents, it is up to Virgil and Roman to stay alive enough to fulfill their destiny. Ao3

Word Count:  6129

Chapter Warnings: none

Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen, Chapter Sixteen

Bonuses: Immune to Change

Roman woke up with his head at the foot of his bed, hugging his pillow, and his notebook open on the floor. He didn't remember falling asleep. He didn't remember dreaming. He definitely didn’t remember why he had drool stuck to his cheek. He rolled over to shut off his alarm on his nightstand. That's when it dawned on him. 

He didn't remember dreaming. 

He shot upwards. His heart was pounding. Was this a sign? Were he and Virgil on the right path? He hadn't believed that mumbo jumbo about Soulmate Magic and dreams when Joan told him in the beginning of the school year. When Roman talked about his weird nightmare that Virgil had started to play a small role in. Was that only 6 weeks ago? 

But why would they stop when he finally felt comfortable around Virgil? What did it all mean? He really needed to ask Joan for those articles again. Maybe they weren’t mystical mumbo jumbo after all. He should have been paying more attention to them when he was obsessing over the nightmares in the beginning of the school year. After all, internet articles weren’t always unreliable sources, right? 

Roman sat at his vanity mirror. His reflection had changed from what he’d been seeing for the past two weeks. He looked brighter. It was like the depressive haze since their first kiss was thinning. He could see the light at the end of the tunnel. His eyes looked crinkled from the wide smile on his face as he gazed into his reflection’s eyes. 

Humming a tune from Tangled, Roman combed through his hair. Linda didn't seem up to her usual antics. That rebellious strand of hair was actually laying down with the rest of his hairdo. 

He looked...good. Not quite like his old self. This confidence was  more...genuine. Happiness looked good on him. Is this what other people saw in him when he walked through the halls? A young man who just radiated the energy of sunny attraction? Or was this a new sight in general? Was he seeing himself clearly, or for the first time? 

His hair was caught in a beam of early morning sunlight, bringing out the strands of gold and red that only appeared in the purest of lighting. He resisted the urge to blink as he inspected his eyes. Had the golden brown always been so rich? Was the sun just in a good spot in the sky shining through his window, or was he finally seeing himself the way he’s wanted to since he was a child? 

Closing his eyes, Roman took in a deep inhale through his nose. He tried to  remember that stormy night when Patton spoke with an anxious Virgil. Smell the rose? 

He opened his eyes on the exhale. The morning so far tasted sweet to him. A beginning. A fresh start. 

With bold proclamation, he recited his affirmations to his reflection. He sang 

them to the tune he’d been using since he first came up with them in the eighth grade.

“ I am pretty

I am a star

I am an artist

I am perfect

I am a prince ”

When he had first written those affirmations down, Joan teased him because he used ‘Prince’ instead of ‘King’, like his last name. Roman explained it to them as best as he could. Princes were at the beginning of their journeys. Princes got to perform, they got to explore. He told Joan all those years ago that he’d change it to King when he was older and had enough life experiences under his belt. Or when he was ready to settle down with his true love.

Roman sighed as he remembered that day while getting dressed. He wondered if Joan actually did understand, or if they had just nodded to get him to shut up. 

No, that wasn’t true. Joan was the only person who understood him. Even though by now Joan had probably forgotten about the affirmations. They didn't know he still did them five years later. It wasn’t something that really had a place in everyday conversation. 

Half an hour later, Roman was pulling up to the student parking lot earlier than usual. That’s what happens when one gets decent sleep , he supposed. There were a few students milling about. The air was getting crisper. The summer humidity had changed to a fall humidity (the difference only noticeable to a long time resident of Parkwill, of course). Roman was glad he had decided to leave his jacket at home. Any rain that came wouldn’t be too bad. It would probably be more misty than anything. 

He made his way to his first class on the second floor, English with an old man named Mr. Richardson. He needed to ask for an extension on his essay. He had been ignoring most of his homework in his depression since Virgil kissed him. He wondered how he’d be feeling after their date. Would he be in such a joyous high that he’d continue to ignore his studies? It was a worry for him. His deal with his parents was good grades as a trade for continuing theater. Briefly he considered even telling his mom that he had a date tonight. 

Roman paused in the doorway of the classroom as the realization hit him. He was going on a date. A date! He was going to be taking Virgil on a date. That Virgil initiated! Virgil, distant Virgil, handsome Virgil, with a mouth that tasted like the heat of a summer bonfire and lips that felt like plug outlets. 

Roman felt tears prick at his vision. Happy ones. Virgil had asked him on a date. Did this mean they were ready to move forward? No more nightmares?

No, he wouldn’t get his hopes up yet. He needed to go slowly. He had always planned from the beginning that his soulmate would be the one to reveal himself, or Roman would after he was done with his travels. When he was ready to settle down. Also, just because Virgil wanted to go on a date, it didn't mean they were ready to jump into the thick of it. Roman needed to be patient. 

Patience is a virtue, but I’m not a freaking nun or anything, Roman thought  as he walked down the hallway.

Roman walked into the room with a strange feeling of electricity dancing over his arms. He looked at the desk his English teacher usually sat in during the morning. Instead of Mr. Richardson, though, there was his favorite teacher and a man he had only seen twice before, but had never been introduced to. 

“Oh, Roman, you’re a bit early, aren’t you?” Mr. D asked. What was that look on his face? He was...smiling. He only did that when he was looking forward to something special. 

“Uh, yeah, I got decent sleep.” Roman was eyeing the two men. He couldn’t help but feel off-kilter as the sparks continued shooting up his arms. 

“Good, good.” The drama teacher patted Roman’s shoulder absently. “By the way, no rehearsal tonight. We all need a night to relax and regroup, right?” 

Roman nodded. He knew that the teacher was implying something, but he didn’t know what it was exactly until he spoke up. 

“Wow, Princey, you always look this good?” a gruff voice called from the back of the classroom. 

That explained the weird feeling in his arms. “Oh, hi, Virgil!” He ran his hand on the back of his head, which most likely would wake Linda from her slumber. “Sorry I didn’t see you there...in the shadows.” 

Virgil rolled his eyes as he walked forward. “Whatever, I’ll see you later.” 

Then he did something Roman didn’t expect. Virgil embraced him, not even minding the awkwardness of the backpacks they both wore, and then kissed his cheek. 

“See you at lunch, Roman.” Virgil winked at him before he left. 

Roman was frozen from the weird pain/not pain feeling in his abdomen. He jumped at the sound of Mr. D chuckling. 

“That’s the action I want to see from you when we get back to rehearsals. Pull on that feeling okay?” The theater teacher pat Roman on the shoulder again as he walked out. 

Roman stared at the superintendent, who was grinning like he had just won a goldfish- or a freaking puppy-at the fairgrounds. What was that all about? Virgil must be scheming something, and the superintendent looks like he’s expecting something from me. 

Roman did what he did best, he played it off cool before he died of stage fright. 

“How rude of him not to introduce me to you, I’m Roman. Roman King.” Roman stuck his hand out politely. He hid his relief that the buzzing had stopped vibrating on his skin. 

“Yes, of course, my nephew hasn’t always had the best manners.” The man shook Roman’s hand. “But that’s why you like him, isn’t it?” 

Roman let out one of his ‘Noble Noises’, a name that Joan gave to the sounds he couldn’t help but let out when he was at a loss for words. 

“Wh- I- ha-”

“Relax, Roman.” Thomas chuckled. “Mr. Richardson is going to be out for the week. Due to the lack of-” he clenched his jaw- “stability in this school, Principal Duke hasn’t set up any substitute teachers to be on our call list. I could have had other teachers work on their off periods to cover the class, but I have free time.” 

“Isn’t being a substitute a bit below your paygrade?” Roman asked without thinking. 

“I was a sub before I was anything else.” Thomas held his arm out to direct Roman to take his seat. 

 A group of students wandered in as the bell rang. Mr. Sanders smiled warmly at Roman. A bit too nice, as if he knew a big secret. 

Jeesh, was Roman getting too paranoid for his own good? Or was he getting his hopes up? 

Roman made his way to his desk, excited to see how the Superintendent of the entire district would teach. He knew that Mr. Sanders was taking the fall semester to exclusively monitor how Kingston High was improving, but he didn’t know that he’d be this involved. His reputation for caring about education seemed to hold more truth to it than Roman thought. Hopefully it meant that he'd leave the drama department alone. 

The second bell rang. Mr. Sanders walked up in front of the whiteboard to write down his name. Not that he needed to, he did just introduce himself to the entire school just a short time ago. 

Roman pulled out his English notebook. He was sure that Mr. Sanders would make them continue their assignments. Mr. Richardson had them working on learning about the various types of essay formats. The unit was difficult, especially since he wanted them to do three different essays in different formats as a way to show how well they understood. 

Mr. Sanders’ demeanor had changed now that he was in front of the classroom. Roman recognized that shift. It was the type of body stance that actors took right before getting into character. The tension in his stance to fend off the stage fright. 

“Hello class,” Mr.  Sanders greeted. He sounded like a car salesman rather than a substitute teacher. “Mr. Richardson will be out for a week. I will be your teacher while he is gone.” 

He turned on his heel to the whiteboard. He wrote out a phrase on the whiteboard: 

“Soulmate Magic: Myth or Fact?”

Roman felt himself about to choke on his own spit. He hated the Universe sometimes. He had just been wondering about that this morning. 

“Who here believes in Soulmate Magic?” Mr. Sanders asked the class while he drew out a chart of some sort on the whiteboard. 

Roman felt his arm lift up without his permission. He hurriedly looked around the rest of the classroom. There were a few students also looking around with their hands in the air too. One guy in the back of the class was chuckling to himself. 

“Mr. Flannigan, what’s so funny?” Mr. Sanders asked as he turned around. 

The boy shrugged, causing his bulky headphones to shift on his leather jacket. “This is English class in high school ,” he emphasized with a sneer. “You can’t expect us to believe that fairytale bullshit.” 

Roman and the others had put their arms down by then. If he had been asked this before meeting Virgil, he would have been on the fence. However, since the first day of school there were just too many coincidences and feelings and experiences he had noticed. After all, he did start believing the Dream Theory enough to go with Virgil to his house when they had barely known each other...and also kiss him that next morning. 

Mr. Sanders didn’t even acknowledge the cuss word from the bold student. He looked amused. “I take it the rest of you feel this way too?” 

The class all seemed to  shift uncomfortably. Gabrielle, the girl who sat behind Roman, spoke up first. “It’s not that I think it’s bull, it just feels like something we say to kids.” 

“Oh? Then do you know why Markings exist?” The Superintendent looked like he was holding information no one else had. Roman had a heavy feeling in his stomach at that look. His smirk was an older version of Virgil’s. 

Gabrielle frowned. “No one does. They’ve been around forever. They’re just...something that’s natural.” 

“Would you be willing to argue that point as passionately as Mr. Flannigan in the back?” Mr. Sanders asked. 

Gabrielle blushed and looked down at her desk as a few kids snickered. “Well, maybe, I don’t know.” 

Mr. Sanders went back to the whiteboard and labeled the columns he had drawn out. On the left he had written “Myth”. On the other side he had written “Fact”. Underneath “Fact” he started writing the names of some of the students who had their hands raised earlier. Roman felt sweat start to form on his forehead as his name was written in the “Fact” section. 

As he wrote, Mr. Sanders spoke. “Your teacher was doing a unit on the different types of essays in academia. I’m sure you’re all familiar with the traditional thesis statement. For the first half next week you’ll be spending class time working in groups on finding research online supporting your side of the argument. We’ll spend one day in the school library looking for books as sources too. Then the second half of the week you’ll each write your own essay about why you think Soulmate Magic is or isn’t real.” 

Roman sighed. Could he use personal experience as his only source? 

Mr. Sanders had finished writing their names on the board. He uncapped a pink marker. He looked behind him at the class and asked. “Who here has met their soulmate yet?” 

Roman gulped. He didn’t want to jump the gun. There was still a chance he was being set up for disappointment despite the other ‘signs’. Maybe this project would help him find the truth-or as close as he can get-about what the hell was going on with Virgil without actually talking about it. Obviously he'd need better sources than Buzzfeed's 'Six Signs You've Found Your Soulmate' article he had seen floating around. 

Mr. Sanders put a pink asterisk next to the names of the students who had found their soulmates. There were a few on each side of the chart. Roman felt a lump in his throat. There were more people who found their soulmates while young than he had thought. That didn't help with the whole "not getting his hopes up about his career" thing. 

They spent the rest of the class being assigned to their study groups. They were sorted into groups of four. Roman was assigned to work with Marissa Falcon, Andrew Harrison, and Mercy Fenton. They had changed their seating to make sure they were all sitting together. They had moved their desks to face each other close to the door. 

Marissa was definitely excited about this project. Her tight red curls bounced around her face even when she was still. She was one of the students with a pink asterisk next to her name on the board. The only one in their group, actually. Meaning that she had already found her soulmate. 

“So, putting aside the weirdness of the superintendent of the entire school district being here, can we just talk about how cool it is to learn about this?! Much better than what the old man was doing.” Her voice reminded Roman of bubblegum and the color pink. She was excitable, bright, and definitely had the glow of someone who considered herself an expert. 

Roman was just glad he wouldn’t have to take the lead on the project. Maybe working with someone his age who had already found their soulmate would help him out with his personal life as well as give him an edge on his essay. The other two in the group barely participated in the rest of the conversation. He got the feeling that Marissa and he were the ones who were going to take the assignment seriously. 

It was too soon that the bell rang for his next class. Disappointed, Roman packed his backpack. He waved goodbye to the substitute. Mr. Sanders gave him a smile in return as he pulled aside Gary Flannigan. Probably to talk to him about the cussing earlier in class.

Roman went to his next class. Thinking to himself, I hope this is a sign I’m on the right path with Virgil .

-------

“Jeez, Talyn, don’t tug my hair so hard!” Virgil griped. He was trying not to flinch as Talyn precariously combed the dye through his hair. 

“Well, do you want me to be thorough or no?” They responded tersely. They were trying - unsuccessfully - to hide their smile at Virgil’s pain and suffering.

“Remind me to never let you dye my hair in a bad mood, Talyn” Joan snarked as they read a book at Virgil’s desk. The Chrome Borne was the title that Virgil caught. 

It was weird, Virgil admitted to himself, to have his maybe-boyfriend’s best friend hanging out with him without Roman being there. Not bad, just weird. It made Virgil a little annoyed that he couldn’t have one on one time with Talyn as much anymore. Still, Joan was fun to have around. They were able to keep Talyn from smacking Virgil upside the head quite a few times. 

“Don’t make me flick some of this on your stupid face,” Talyn muttered so only Virgil could hear. 

“Why are you being so rough with my precious head? I don’t need a concussion on my first real date, Tal.” Virgil winced as Talyn purposefully tugged on his bangs. 

“You can’t get a concussion from hair pulling, smartass.” Talyn responded sweetly. “Besides, maybe next time you’ll give me more time to prepare to do this. I know I’m magic but I’m no miracle worker.” 

“Not my fault I’ve been busy!” he whined. “You don’t want me to fail classes do you?”

Talyn huffed as they clipped up the section they had finished. Their movements were more gentle now. “No. You need all the help you can get.” 

“What does hair dye have to do with failing classes?” Joan asked. They set down their book and spun in the desk chair to face Virgil. 

“Virgie has finally decided to take school seriously. So he’s gotta learn how to do homework for the first time.” Talyn was starting to trail off as they poured their focus where it should have been - making sure Virgil’s hair dye wasn’t fucked up. 

He rolled his eyes. “What they mean to say is that Mr. Charles has been helping me after school twice a week to get my homework done. I’m in a stupid deal for the first half of the semester to actually try to be a good student.” 

Joan’s eyebrows raised. “Never took you for a hard worker, no offense.” 

“None taken, neither did I.” Virgil grinned. “Hey, can I ask you something?” 

Joan made a show of rolling their eyes and groaning. “How dare you burden me with trying to find answers to the universe?” They put their wrist against their forehead and leaned over the side of the spinning chair. “It’s so hard being an oracle. Haven’t you heard of google?” 

Virgil and Talyn snickered. “I see where Princey gets his theatrics,” he remarked. 

Joan immediately shot up, leaning their elbows on their knees and looking at Virgil with mighty curiosity. “Why do you call him Princey? His name is King.” 

Virgil shrugged impulsively, causing Talyn to flick him for moving. “I dunno. It slipped out one day and kinda stuck.” There was more to it than that, but there was no way he was going to give that information to Roman’s right hand. 

“It’s just kinda funny to me,” Joan’s eyes looked lost in thought, “That you’d choose a nickname for him based off of his affirmations.” 

“Roman does affirmations?” Virgil asked, surprised. “Isn’t that for people who don’t like themselves or something?” 

Joan frowned at Virgil, and in a reprimanding tone said, “Not necessarily. Sometimes people do it to control how they view themselves. Sometimes it’s to remind them of their goals.” Joan sounded sad when they added softly, “Besides...Roman doesn’t exactly have a very high view of himself. He probably doesn't even know that I remember he made affirmations all those years ago."

Virgil snorted. “The guy’s got an ego the size of the Chrysler Building.” 

Talyn paused their work and shared a look with Joan. Joan shifted in the seat, looking down. Their voice a near whisper, “Not really. He’s just a good actor, ya know?” 

Oh. 

“I get it now,” Virgil looked down as Talyn pushed his head forward. “He did seem really...hollow...after something-” 

“I know what happened, Virge, you don’t need to go into it.” Joan didn’t sound like they had fake disinterest. They truly weren’t digging for information and wanted to respect Virgil’s privacy.  

Remembering that fuck-up was hard for Virgil. It was still so fresh in his mind. “No, it’s okay, I want you to know my side.” 

He didn’t wait for an acknowledgement. He told Joan about Roman meeting him on the bus, their walk home, the panic attack, the family dinner, Roman spending the night, the morning, the kiss, him running away, and the talk with Uncle Thomas. 

Joan helped fill in some blanks for him, too. He heard about how Roman had been so distraught when he visited their house right after. Joan mentioned something about a song, which led into the trio getting sidetracked into Joan’s history of creating with Roman. It was nice hearing stories about Theater Camp. Hearing about Roman’s softer side was way better than hearing constant praise from people who barely knew him. 

“So, what was your original question?” Talyn nudged while they put the shower cap on Virgil’s head. 

Virgil thought for a moment. What was the question he had? 

“Oh! Right! Hey Joan,” Virgil reached for his phone in the pocket from his jeans. “Could you tell me if Roman would like this surprise idea that I have?” 

Joan took the phone that they were handed. Their face slowly grew more mischievous and they were laughing a creepy, sinister laugh by the time they were done with it. “Yes, yes he will love this.” 

“Really?” Virgil asked as he stood up to stretch his legs. “I hope he’ll understand what I’m trying to say.” 

Joan bit their lip in thought. Talyn sat on their lap in the small rolling chair, which creaked under the weight of them. Virgil just sat on his bed while waiting for their response. 

“I think,” Joan started in a more serious tone, “that it’s a sweet idea. He’s always said that he didn’t want to know his soulmate before he was ready with an established career.

“But I don’t know, he’s changed a lot in the past two months. He may not be willing to commit to it no matter what you say. He’s been down pretty bad, Virge.” Joan started rubbing their finger up and down Talyn’s forearm while swaying back and forth. “I say, go for it. You’ve got most of it all planned out. I will say that if you go through with this, maybe prepare yourself for him to not be understanding of what you’re asking for. Because it is a lot.” 

Virgil nodded slowly. “I’ll see how the date goes tonight. I don’t really wanna jump the gun, you know?” 

Talyn got up to sit next to Virgil and rub his shoulder. “Your date is going to go fine. You already know he’s in love with you. You’ve just gotta clear the air on some things. This is a time for honesty.” 

“And really, this surprise you’ve planned out, Virgil?” Joan giggled. “I’m gonna do everything I can to make sure this happens.” 

“Yeah, watching you two dance around each other is better than any soap opera.” Talyn agreed. 

The trio talked for a bit more before the timer on Talyn’s phone went off for Virgil to rinse out his hair. He rushed to the shower so he could be ready on time for his date.

Virgil was in the shower rinsing his hair when it hit him. Roman would be going on a date with him. It wouldn’t be just a normal date, though, but a chance for Virgil to be vulnerable about everything. He needed to come clean about his side of what happened. Especially hearing about how Roman was so empty after that first kiss. 

The water was cold, which normally didn’t bother Virgil, but he found himself shivering at the thought of hurting Roman again. Was he ready to try? What if he was just doing this to make himself feel better? What if, when he explained himself, Roman thought he was toxic? What if Roman just couldn’t be with someone who won’t reveal their Marking? What if he fucked up again ? What if he can't open up after all? 

Once the water was running clear in the tub, Virgil stepped out to dry his hair off with his “Trash Towel”. It’s the towel he used when his hair was freshly dyed. He didn’t want to ruin a bunch of different ones with leaky hair. This was a white towel with stains of all the different hair colors he had done over time. He probably should have replaced it long ago, but that meant ruining another towel again.

The sound of the hair dryer wasn’t enough to drown out his thoughts. His fingers felt numb as he worked on his hair. Once that was done he returned to his room to get dressed. Talyn and Joan were downstairs. It sounded like his dad was home and talking to them. That was good. He needed some time to gather himself for what he was about to do. 

He didn’t want to look like he was trying too hard, but he didn’t want to look like he didn’t care either. He wondered if Roman would be dressed up all fancy for their first date. No doubt the boy was at his house fretting over what he’d wear. That image of Roman freaking out over what he’d be wearing comforted Virgil a bit. 

Virgil was glad that Mr. D had agreed to cancel the club meeting for that night. He was a weird teacher. He kept his distance but it was obvious he cared deeply about his students, especially Roman. The few times Virgil talked to the mysterious teacher, he always held a fond sparkle in his eye when Roman came up in conversation. It was really cool of him to give special treatment, and as Virgil changed he figured that Roman must be really special to his teacher. Which was good, considering that he needed Mr. D’s help with his surprise later on if his date went well.

After Virgil was mostly satisfied with his appearance, he went downstairs to see that it wasn’t just his dad who was home. 

Logan was sitting on his couch, with his arm over Patton’s shoulders. Patton leaned into Logan like he was relaxing after a long day. They were talking to Joan and Talyn. The four of them were laughing at something his dad must have said. Virgil felt his chest start to warm. It was such a natural sight, except for the empty loveseat in the corner. It was easy to see himself laughing along with them, with Roman’s head on his lap as they talked. 

Hope swelled within him. Could it be that he could make this work? Maybe he wasn’t going to fuck up after all. 

He walked into the room. His dad saw him and stood up to meet him. “You look so handsome, kiddo!" he squealed. The pride was so evident on his face. “My baby’s first date! So exciting.” 

Virgil pretended to frown. “C’moooon dad. Don’t embarrass me in front of my friends.” He tried to not laugh. 

Talyn stood up, playing along by stomping their feet. “Young man, I worked way too hard to make your hair perfect. The least you could do is let your dad take pictures of my masterpiece.” 

Virgil lost his composure by then. Talyn calling him ‘young man’ was just the cherry on top. “Sure, go ahead!” he called out through his hysterical laughter.

Logan spoke up, nervously grinning. “I have my camera in my car. It would produce a better quality for pictures than our phones.” 

“Need some help?” Joan asked excitedly. They didn’t wait for an answer as they made their way to the door. Logan just chuckled to himself as he left after the excited teenager. 

“Talyn, don’t tell me your soulmate is a photography nerd! You hate taking pictures of yourself.” Virgil teased. 

“Shut up,” Talyn grumbled, though their grin was noticeable. “Joan’s only got a passing interest in it. They haven’t asked me to be their muse or anything.” 

Patton chuckled. “Trust me, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Artists are very serious about their work.” 

“Dad, have you been modeling on the side?” Virgil asked. He wasn't teasing, but genuinely curious. That hadn't talked bunch about Logan or the galaxy tattoo since that fight. 

Logan had walked back in by then and made his way to Patton. “Your father has a very symmetrical face, and when he smiles I want to keep it with me forever.” He kissed Patton’s suddenly red cheek. 

Virgil noticed the way his dad stiffened as he waited for Virgil to react. It was weird to see another man lovingly touch his dad. He faked a reassuring smile to the pair. He didn’t want to think about the prickling in the back of his head. He needed to get used to Logan being around in a more casual manner. He'd have to get used to the fact that Logan was here to stay. 

He made sure to put all of his focus into watching Talyn and Joan from there on out. He tried not to blink when the camera flashed in his eyes. He fought within himself to keep that earlier hopeful feeling from flying away from him. He wouldn’t let his pessimism win. 

This night was about coming clean. It was about asking for forgiveness, giving context, and taking his next step to be a better man. It was about searching for compromise in good faith. It was for finding faith in the opportunity for fresh starts. After tonight, he’d be able to see a brighter future for himself. 

It was when they were still taking pictures that there was a knock at the front door. Talyn let out a squeal that seemed out of character. Virgil raised his eyebrow at them, which welcomed another click, flash! from the camera. He walked away from the staircase to open the door. 

His forearms felt like he was being pricked by static shocks all over when he saw Roman standing there, the beginning sunset behind him looking like something out of a movie. Virgil was speechless. He couldn’t think of anything flirty or sarcastic to say. Had it only been at lunch period that day he last saw Roman? He looked like royalty. 

Roman had his hair combed back. It was a bit longer since he hadn’t gotten it cut, so his hair had some flow to it. He had worn a long sleeve button up with black slacks. The shirt was a deep red color, bringing out the hazel eyes and white teeth. He was wearing a small bit of brown eyeliner and mascara, nothing obvious, but enough to bring out the features of his face. The rosey blush that Virgil loved so much was starting to form the longer he stared. 

“Um, I didn’t know where we were going, so I figured I’d make myself look nice.” Roman looked Virgil up and down. “I’m glad to know we had the same idea.” 

Virgil looked down at what he was wearing. He had chosen his only pair of slacks -a gray pair that his grandmother got him for his birthday - and a deep wine-purple button up. He had chosen a dark gray necktie with black stitching to look like spiderwebs. Just to keep a little bit of his dark personality obvious so he wouldn’t feel completely out of his depth. 

“Oh, right, yeah.” He responded lamely. His voice cracked and he felt like he wanted to shrivel up in embarrassment. 

“I got you this. I hope it’s not too cliché or tacky for you.” Roman handed Virgil a single black rose. It was plastic, and the stem was dark purple with glitter. It was definitely something cheesy, but Virgil smiled anyway.

“Thank you, Roman, I love it.” Virgil heard his dad clear his throat loudly. He rolled his eyes. Feeling more normal now that his bubble with Roman had burst, he swept his arm behind him. “Come in. We’re just taking pictures as if it’s fucking prom or something.” 

Roman laughed at that. “I’ll never say no to a photo op!” 

Joan and Talyn gave hugs to Roman when he was in the room. “Looking as royal as ever, your highness.” Joan remarked. 

"Wait, isn't Highness for a prince?" Virgil asked. "I always call him Majesty."

Roman chuckled. "Majesty and Highness can be either, depending on the situation. Majesty is more formal, and Highness is a sort of catch-all." 

Virgil didn't have a good response to that. He didn't know anything about royalty and all that fancy shit. He was itching to go, but automatically he pulled Roman by his waist. "Let's get our pictures done quickly, I'm starving."

Roman and Virgil took a few pictures at the bottom of the staircase. Roman didn’t seem bothered by the blinding flashes. Virgil kept his arm tight against his date’s waist. After he felt he was thoroughly blinded, he ended the photo session. “Alright, if I want to be able to see Roman’s sexy face I need the flashes to stop.” 

Roman whined behind him as he made his way to his jacket by the door. “But I wanna make sure all of my sides have been captured…” 

Virgil just ignored him. In a rush to leave, he gave hugs to everyone except Logan, and walked out the door while Roman gushed his thanks to Logan for taking pictures. 

The pair settled into their seats in Roman’s car. The silence was nice as Virgil adjusted to it after the noise of the living room. He looked at Roman nervously. He seemed relaxed. His handsomeness seemed never-ending. “Alright, Captain Cranky, you ready to go get some fancy food?” he quipped, too giddy for Virgil's own good. 

Virgil rolled his eyes and huffed. “Only the best for you, your Majesty .” 

Roman chuckled. They pulled out of the driveway as Virgil plugged in the aux cord to his phone as if he had done it every day. 

By the time they arrived at Marina's, Virgil had educated Roman with every song on the Welcome to the Black Parade album. They got out of the car laughing as Roman gave the keys to the valet. 

With a warm blanket of joy between the two, they entered the restaurant to start the first part of their date. Virgil tried not to think about the nerves bundling up in his abdomen, or even consider the coincidence that his Marking was warmer than usual. 

-

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AUTHOR’S NOTE: Fluff and worldbuilding? Fluff and worldbuilding.Thank you for reading and supporting this story. I didn't mean to drop off the face of the earth everywhere, but for about a year now a family member of mine was getting sicker and sicker until he passed a few weeks ago. It's been a hard time, but he's at peace now & I feel like I can refocus my life.So, we're looking at an update every other month here. I don't want to promise more or less than that. I can say that I think about this fic ALL THE TIME and I want to just publish my rough drafts of the chapters and speed through it, but I know these boys love to take their time, so I will too.I hope you have been doing well, readers, and let me know what you thought of this chapter! And maybe comment your guesses on how you think the date will go ;)also, I have a discord server join for updates, bonuses, and talk with other readers!

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@404-morality-not-found​, @k1ngtok1​, @lovelivingmydreams​

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[thetheatregang]

The First Date Incident

Synopsis: When Julie goes on her first date, the boys just can’t help themselves. They have to spy on her. No self control. Nope. Not even a little bit. 

This is my first fic for JATP, and my first real fic since the beginning of quarantine so PLEASE go easy on me and PLEASE leave e some feedback! It goes kinda quick because I’m still trying to get back into the groove of writing but I hope you all love it!

Shout out to @easthighdrama and @itsjuliemolina for reading it and giving me some tips!

Monday. Julie Molina usually loathes Monday’s. This particular Monday, however, would not be a day like any other day at Los Feliz High School. 

Ever since her band played at the legendary venue The Orpheum, a few weeks prior, she has been riding the popularity train. People Julie has never talked to in her life are talking to her in the halls like they’re her best friend. Some of the popular senior girls even asked if she wanted to come to their party, to which she had to politely decline, as Ray would surely kill her if he found out. 

But to top it all off, the guy she’s had a crush on since grade school, Nick, has been talking to her more than ever!

“H- hey, Jules! How’s it going?” Nick calls out, approaching her locker. He pulls out from behind his back a bottle of apple juice from the cafeteria.

“Oh! Apple juice? How did you know?” She beams nervously. He knows because she tweeted about how bad she wanted apple juice last night, but the carton in the fridge was all out. It was a lame tweet, she knew that, but she can’t help but blush at the fact that Nick totally reads her tweets.

She’s liked Nick for so long, it’s hard to not get flustered around him. His cute smile and perfect hair just give her butterflies, she can’t help it. Even though when Nick asked her out before, and she rejected him, those feelings haven’t quite gone away yet. Probably because she only did so, because of her feelings for Luke, who, as Flynn has pointed out many times, isn’t even actually alive. She can’t really date a dead guy...

“I just had a feeling... Anywho, I was hoping to ask you something! Do you have plans this weekend?” He smiles, his eyes sparkling. Nick has had it bad for Julie ever since the band played that show in her backyard, and especially since she agreed to be his dance partner.

“Just rehearsal with the band, why? Did you wanna hang out or something?” She wonders aloud. This is it! This is iiiiiiitttttt! The moment she’s been waiting for since grade school.

“Well, they’re doing a horror movie marathon at the Westin Theater tomorrow for Halloween, so I was thinking maybe I’d pick you up, and we could go check it out?” He smiles. “Like on a date?”

“YES!” She exclaims, a little too enthusiastically. “I mean, yeah, sure! That sounds chill!” Nice save, Julie, nice save.

“Cool!” He chuckles. “I’ll text you the deets!”

Nick smiles, lowkey flipping his hair out of his face as he walks away. And within seconds Flynn appears.

“Did Nick just ask you out?” She squeals bouncing up and down.

“Maaaaaaayyyyyybe!” Julie teases. She cannot even believe she’s saying these words. A date? With Nick? Flynn couldn’t believe her ears.

“Give me all the details!” Flynn demands.

“He’s picking me up tomorrow to go to that horror movie marathon at the Westin! He told me he’d text me!” She squeals excitedly. 

“He’s gonna pick you up? Like in his car? Is your dad gonna be okay with that?” Flynn replies worriedly. Crap. She’s right. Ray is going to freak.

“I don’t know, um, I hope so…” She sighs. This is gonna take some convincing.

______

After arriving home from school, and having a less than pleasant conversation with her father about dating, and boys, and boys with cars, she heads out to the studio. 

“Guys?” She calls out entering the studio after school. No answer. This is strange because there’s almost always at least one of the boys in the studio when she gets home. Julie throws her backpack onto the couch and starts writing in her notebook. 

“Hey Julie!” The boys greet her as they poof in from wherever they came from. 

“Hey! I’m cancelling rehearsal tomorrow! I’ve got plans!” She tells them nonchalantly hoping to god they’re not gonna press the issue. 

They press the issue. 

“You’ve got plans that are better than rehearsing for our next gig?” Alex questions confusedly. 

“Yeah, what are you doing? You got a hot date or something?” Reggie teases laughing. 

Julie goes silent, not making eye contact, staring straight at her journal. 

“WAIT I WAS RIGHT?” Reggie exclaims. “I’m never right!” 

Julie can’t help but hide her smile. 

“Oh my god! I’m right! I can’t believe I’m actually right” Reggie continues before being fully cut off by Luke. 

“Wait seriously? A date? With that boy you were flirting with in the hallway?” Luke asks, with just a hint of jealousy in his voice. 

“We’re just going to a movie! It’s not like I’m gonna marry the guy!” Julie sasses back. 

“What are you going to see?” He inquires, sounding even more protective. 

“There’s like a horror movie marathon at the Westin Theater for Hallowen so we’re gonna catch one of the showings!” I inform them. 

“Oooh, guys love taking a girl to a scary movie. That way he can hold your hand whenever something scary happens!” Reggie chuckles. 

Luke gives him a look that immediately shuts him up.

Part of Julie likes that the guys are so protective of her. It’s comforting to know they have her back, but at the same time it’s like having three older brothers that could scare him off at any given moment with just a little ghost power.

“It’s just a movie. Stop overthinking it!” She warns. “We talked about boundaries, remember?” 

The boys all nod in agreement and move forward with rehearsal.

 ______

“I’m really glad you agreed to go out with me!” Nick tells me, opening the car door for Julie to get out. “I know you initially said no, but I’m really happy you changed your mind…” 

“Yeah, totally! How could I say no to a scary movie! I love scary movies. Ghosts are totally my thing!” She smiles, thinking she’s hilarious. 

“That’s awesome! The movie I chose is totally full of ghosts and monsters and stuff!” He informs her excitedly. 

Nick hands the employee the tickets, and they head into the theater. They find some good seating in the middle row, as the theater is more or less empty. 

Just before the movie begins, the boys poof into the very back row. 

“Do you see her?” Luke whispers to Reggie, Alex, and Willie who have all taken it upon themselves to play spy on Julie’s date. 

“There she is!” Reggie points, grabbing a seat with the extra large popcorn he stole from behind the counter with his ghost skills. 

“Are you guys sure we should be doing this?” Alex questions, apprehensive about the whole ordeal. 

“Oh absolutely. What kind of friends would we be if we didn’t check this guy out for Julie?” Luke smirks. 

“Yeah. This is basically research. Plus, this way, when we ask how the date was, and Julie refuses to tell us, we already know!” Reggie explains. 

This does not make Alex any less apprehensive but at least Willie came with them. He’s been looking for ways to get Willie and the boys to hang out for a little while now, and this was the perfect opportunity to get them all in the same room. 

“What is this movie anyway?” Alex looks around to see if anyone’s ticket is out. Alex has never been a horror movie fan. 

“Who knows, but if Julie can handle it, you can too, bud!” Luke smiles comfortingly. 

As the horror fills the screens, Luke watches Julie and Nick like a hawk. Nick yawns and puts his arm around Julie like guys do at movies, which just about drives Luke crazy. 

“You ready boys?” Luke says, clearly getting ready to go mess with them. 

“Absolutely not! If she finds out y’all followed her here she’ll freak!” Willie rolls his eyes, pulling Luke back to his seat by the shirt. 

Reggie hides behind Alex’s fanny pack from every spirit that enters the screen, before realizing that he too is dead, and begins relating to every ghost in the movie. 

“Don’t go in the creepy house! Don’t go in the creepy house… AHHH!” Alex yelps as the main characters enter the haunted house. He quickly notices he has left his seat and is now sitting comfortably in Willie’s lap, who is honestly enjoying the movie. 

“You scared, Hot Dog?” Willie grabs onto Alex’s hand and smiles. “Don’t worry, I got you!” He says comfortingly. Alex blushes. 

Reggie, who has officially gotten bored of the movie, begins tossing little popcorn crumbs at the screen, and other movie goers. 

“Dude cut it out?” The guy in front of them turns around, looking genuinely freaked out when he realizes that no one is behind him. 

The boys all laugh. How have they never thought to haunt movie theaters before?

Without thinking, he tosses one at Julie. 

Julie lets go of Nick’s hand, and fixes her hair, only just barely noticing that something hit her. And he probably would’ve gotten away with it too, if he hadn’t done it again. 

The second piece of popcorn hits Julie’s neck and she turns her body around in her seat. The guys sink really low in their chairs. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She whispers under her breath. 

“I’ll be right back. Gonna go get a refill on this icee!” She smiles at Nick, getting out of her seat. 

“Do you think she saw us?” Alex asks quietly to the other guys. 

“Yeah, definitely!” Willie says as Julie approaches the back of the theater. 

“All of you, outside, now!” Julie mutters as she exits the theater. 

The boys follow obediently. 

Julie stands outside the door of the theater with her arms crossed. She gets out her phone and puts it to her ear. 

“Heyyyyyy Julie! What are you doing here?” Reggie smiles awkwardly. 

“Are you guys serious right now? What happened to boundaries? What happened to not overthinking it?” She scolds, rolling her eyes. 

Alex sighs. “We’re sorry. We shouldn’t have intruded…” 

“You’re darn right you shouldn’t have intruded!” She rolls her eyes. “This was a total invasion of privacy!”  

“I know... We just couldn’t help ourselves. We had to make sure he treats you r-” Alex begins. 

“Nope! No excuses! I don’t wanna hear it! I called boundaries, and you all broke them!” She interrupts. “I’m going back in there. If you guys follow me again, I’m coming for all of you!” 

“But I wanna see how the movie ends?” Reggie complains. 

“Don’t. Even. Think about it.” Julie warns, walking back into the theater.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #julie x luke #julie molina #luke patterson #alex jatp #reggie jatp #willie jatp #nick jatp #my fanfiction #paige in the new decade #sonsetcurve

[365days365movies]

February 18, 2021: The Danish Girl (2015) (Part 1)

The list of movies I’ve seen is a little...limited.

And I mean in general, not just this month. Now, don’t get me wrong: I’ve seen a FUCKTON of movies, to say it lightly. But in terms of the diversity of films I’ve seen...it could use some updating, I’m not gonna lie. So, because of that, I haven’t seen too many LGBT focused films, which is one of the reasons I wanted to add them this month. 

So I REALLY haven’t seen films that prominently feature transgender people, and Ace Ventura pretty obviously shouldn’t count for various reasons. But I have seen one major one, which I think has been recently somewhat forgotten. Which is a shame, because I actually really liked it!

Tangerine, directed by Sean Baker, is a comedy drama film about two transgender women who are sex workers on the Hollywood strip, and it’s a look at a few days in their lives. It’s all shot on an iPhone camera (yes, really), and yeah, I really did like this movie! Saw it in theaters in early 2015, when it came out, and around the time I was starting to diversify my tastes, movie-wise.

Look, all of this is me saying that this project of mine is an attempt to watch more films, and to expose myself to new and different perspectives. So, even though this is the only transgender-related film on my list (yeah, sorry about that), there will be more in the future, I promise. If you have any good ones that fit into other genres, and that I should’ve seen by now, let me know! I’m definitely interested. Anyway, with that said: The Danish Girl.

Directed by Tom Hooper, who...wait. Tom Hooper? Like, this guy?

Neat! That movie wasn’t bad, as musical adaptations go. Had its issues, but for Hooper’s biggest and most recent musical, that’s a good staAAAAAAAAH

OH FUCK I FORGOT ABOUT CATS

...Ahem. Well, other than that movie that I saw in theaters NOT A JOKE I SWEAR TO GOD, Hooper’s 2015 biographical film about real-life transgender person Lili Elbe made quite the critical smash when it came out, and was considered (and won) several awards, including some Oscars. So, I’m looking forward to seeing this one! As long as there’s no James Corden and Rebel Wilson in it...or the mice...

...

...SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

Einar Wegener (Eddie Redmayne) is a newly successful landscape artist in Copenhagen, in 1926. His wife, Gerda Wegener (Alicia Wegener), is a portrait painter, although obviously a bit stifled by gender politics of the time. The two are pretty obviously very much in love.

Einar goes to visit Ulla Paulson (Amber Heard, and we’re not gonna get into THAT massive-ass controversy, NO SIIIIIIIIR), a ballerina and a prospective godmother to any future children. 

At a portrait painting with a seemingly VERY uncomfortable gentleman, Gerda does some musing on the female gaze vs. the male gaze, and dude is FRAZZLED. Also some talk about submission going on there, so THAT’S interesting. These portraits are viewed by a gallery owner, Rasmussen (Adrian Schiller), who believes that portraits aren’t her forte, and she needs to find another subject matter.

That makes her understandably upset, and she takes it out on Einar when she comes home. This is made far worse by the fact that the two are trying to get pregnant, but that doesn’t seem to be working either. Despite this, she asks for Einar’s help with a portrait of Ulla, and needs him to put on her stockings, shoes, and dress in order to pose for the painting. And that’s when the first realization hits.

As he starts to realize something (which he obviously can’t quite place), Ulla arrives and hands him a bouquet of flowers, joking that they’ll call her “Lily.” He brushes this aside...mostly, I assume. That night, Einar comments on Ulla’s new night garments, and the two embrace lovingly. Still, though, you can tell that Einar’s percolating.

At a party that Ulla’s throwing, there’s a mostly ironic discussion about Gerda dressing provocatively by showing off her ankles. And yeah, it’s meant to be a joke, but the fact that they’re making a joke in this movie that I would 100% make in real life is so delightfully meta to me, and I love it.

That night, after some more sexy, sexy ankle talk, and THAT leads to the revelation that Einar is wearing the new undergarments of Gerda’s. And, to my EVERLASTING surprise and delight, Gerda’s TOTALLY COOL with this, and the two make love. Afterwards, Gerda draws Einar in a more feminine state, which Einar quite likes.

Two two speak about another upcoming party, Ulla’s Artist’s Ball, to which Einar doesn’t want to attend, as...they...feel like they’re forced to perform as themselves. Gerda half-jokes about going as someone else, and while that’s not really an option they’re considering, the two do begin to craft a separate female identity for Einar, with makeup and clothes, as well as lessons on more feminine behaviors.

Einar, as Lili, accompanies Gerda to the Artist’s Ball. It’s very awkward at first, but that changes with the introduction of Henrik Sandahl (Ben Whishaw), who’s immediately attracted to...well, “Lili.” I’ll explain the quotes in a minute, I PROMISE. “Lili” first rejects his advances, but then...HOLY SHIT, they kiss. And Gerda sees this, and it understandably goddamn upset.

The next day, the fallout comes, and Gerda and Einar have a discussion about the kiss, and Gerda says that Lili shouldn’t “visit” anymore. However, Einar’s not as certain of that even being a possibility.

That seems to be further confirmed by the obvious strain Einar is feeling afterwards, and in a frantic rush, he heads to a studio that they use and looks at himself in the mirror. And as Einar examines himself in the mirror...I think this is the right time to explain the quotes from earlier.

See, here’s the thing: up until this point, both Gerda and Einar thought of this as a lark and a curiosity, respectively. But now, in the mirror, Einar’s realized that it’s something far more than that, as has Gerda. And it’s at this point that it’s time to switch names and pronouns, at least to they/them. Because up until now, I don’t believe that they truly understood themselves.

And now they’re starting to. Hasn’t outright said it, yet, but the mirror scene seems to cement it for me. In the meantime, Gerda also seems to realize it, subconsciously at least, as she completes one of the portraits that she drew of Lili. She brings this to the art dealer from earlier, and he surprisingly takes it!

But Lili’s doing something...less than totally OK, as she goes to meet Henrik, who continues to show attraction towards her. A self-confessed romantic, he happily lets her into his place, but I’m not certain whether or not he’s aware of the full situation.

Whether he is or isn’t, it doesn’t quite matter, as he wants to go further in their relationship physically, with Lili is NOT ready for. She goes home, where Gerda finds her, surprised. Lily admits everything, and while knowledge of the affair hurts Gerda significantly (GODDAMN IT MOVIES STOP THE INFIDELITY), another revelation emerges which is more important.

See, Lili and Einar seem to be dissociating, as Einar is now assigning Lili’s feelings to a separate person, and is essentially dissociating. These feelings include a past childhood kiss shared with a boy names Hans, which are now associated with Lili. But as all of this is coming to light, Einar suddenly collapses.

Einar goes to see a doctor, Jens Hexler (Pip Torrens), who believes that it’s all caused by a chemical imbalance, and decides to treat it with...radiation. That...that can’t have actually been a treatment for “chemical imbalance”, right? I mean, it’s certainly fitting with the time, but this would DEFINITELY make hormone problems and infertility WORSE, not better.

But despite this, Einar and Gerda go through with this (almost certainly didn’t happen) treatment, after which Einar says that the doctor “hurt Lili.” Deemed unsuccessful, the doctor calls Einar insane, and leaves them and Gerda, who are both upset. And that’s not made better by the fact that the doctor has reported them, and someone will take Einar to the asylum...unless they leave.

Good thing, then, that Gerda’s been asked to exhibit the paintings of Lili in Paris! They get the FUCK out of Copenhagen, and head to Paris. But with all of this, Einar’s beginning to unravel, losing even the painting side of themselves, as their relationship with Gerda also begins to change.

And I think that it’s at a Paris peepshow that Einar officially assumes the role of Lili in her own mind. So, I’m going to end the first part with the following statement:

Her name is Lili, and I’ll be referring to her as she/her from here on out. See you in Part 2!

#the danish girl #tom hooper #eddie redmayne #lili elbe #alicia vikander #gerda wegener #sebastian koch #ben whishaw #amber heard #matthias schoenaerts #david ebershoff #romance february #biographical film #romance film #LGBT film #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #usergilli #userel #cinemamornings

[sourwolfstories]

Do know any good age difference fics? Thank you & I love your blog ❤️

One life stand by Vendelin

Stiles is used to selling himself to make ends meet. But it’s getting harder to keep those ends meeting, and there’s only so much of Stiles to go around. Until a too-fancy car shows up in his neighborhood, and he meets Derek Hale.

All Derek wants is Stiles’s time, someone to stay on his arm for events and smile for the cameras. It’s the easiest job Stiles has ever had, the best-paying one he’s ever had, and he’s more than happy to sign up.

Derek is everything and nothing Stiles expects him to be, with his tailored suits, sharp mind and his quiet way of caring. But it’s just a job and Stiles never meant to fall in love.

I Just Wanna Be With You Every Day by Brego_Mellon_Nin

When his best friend’s son barrels into the kitchen only dressed in a pair of skintight jeans, lean but defined torso on display, Derek knows he’s truly and utterly fucked. Not only is the kid barely eighteen, but he also happens to be the Sheriff’s only son.

Derek makes a vow to himself that he will not seek Stiles out and he’ll get this thing under control.

Multidisciplinary Studies by DevilDoll

Stiles is a slightly-older-and-very-sexy librarian and Derek has a thirst for knowledge.

Salty Sweet by secondstar

Derek works at a porn store. One day, Stiles comes in asking all sorts of TMI questions about different toys. That’s where it all starts.

One Door Closes by KouriArashi

Derek knows that Stiles is too young for him, but Stiles doesn’t agree. Eight years after Derek rejects him due to the age gap, they meet again where Derek has settled in Wyoming as a ranch hand, and Stiles is the new deputy, and still pissed as hell about the way Derek turned him down. Things don’t go as either of them planned. (I’m sure a million fics have been written about older Stiles and Derek, but this one has cowboy Derek, does that help?)

Ruin Me (Take Me Down) by xLostDreamsx

Driving his teachers and his Dad crazy with his incessant trouble making, Stiles reluctantly accepts young college student Derek Hale as his ‘babysitter’, his Dad misguidedly believing he will be a positive role model to help guide him back to the straight and narrow.

Unfortunately for the Sheriff, he isn’t quite aware that Derek isn’t quite as up-standing as he appears and at the hands of his smart, young, manipulative son with a head full of ideas, his rather weak moral codes soon crumble.

Or put simply, Derek gives in to Stiles and things get hot and heavy pretty fast.

A Thousand and One Firsts, But Only One Forever. by TheLoyalFriend

When Stiles was eight, he had panic attacks. He would sleep walk, block by block going further until he finally reached the woods.

When Derek was eleven he found some brat in the woods, asleep on a rock.

They fall in love.

Be the Life of the Party by Mimiminaj

His father’s face suddenly turned serious again.

“He is twenty four though, son. I don’t care if his smile shits rainbows and his laugh births puppies. You are his employee. It would be bad to cross those lines during your first job. Or ever.”

Stiles’ face hit the table.

“I hate my life,” he moaned.

Scott laughed cheerfully. “Don’t worry sheriff! It sounds to me like the entire cinema staff feels the same. Stiles doesn’t stand a chance with Derek!”

“Scratch that,” Stiles mumbled into the wood. “I hate you two more.”

Or – Stiles starts working at the movie theater. His boss is Derek.

And We Only Saw Half the Ballet by meglimeg

Stiles is one of those, ‘love or hate’ kinds of students. The smart-ass, obnoxious, loud-mouthed sort of kid that a teacher will either love to teach, or hate to teach. He tends to be a hit with the older teachers and the younger teachers; the ones who are either young enough to relate to him or old enough to appreciate how different he is from the other students. It’s the ones in the middle, the ones who feel like they deserve his respect but never seem to be able to earn it, that hate him. Finstock and Harris could write sonnets about being pissed off with Stiles.

But basically, everyone has their side. Love or hate. No in-betweens.

Except for Derek. Derek’s in between. Predictably.

Put Down in Words by paintedrecs

“Oh,” Stiles said, his voice coming out low and breathy, “fuck me.”

“I don’t think that’s on the syllabus, but we can check to see if there’s a spot open in any of his classes,” Scott said, grinning.

“This isn’t an actual professor, though,” Stiles insisted, unable to resist brushing his thumb over the sharp line of the man’s bearded jaw. He was laughing at something off-camera, the shot taken in three-quarters view, his coat collar casually rumpled and opened to reveal a sliver of a simple grey t-shirt. The whole thing was deliberately calculated to lend him a more accessible feel, and god help him, Stiles was falling for it.

*

When Stiles signed up for Dr. Hale’s intro to history class, he had two goals: knock out the credits his advisor was bugging him to complete before he graduated, and spend a few hours a week daydreaming about his sexy professor’s salt and pepper beard.

Derek, a few months away from turning forty and not sure when his life had started feeling so damn lonely, had never encountered someone like Stiles before. Bright-eyed, sharp-tongued, determined to throw Derek’s carefully cultivated world into disarray…and absolutely the last person Derek should be falling in love with.

Later, mate! by Smowkie

Derek looked at the time and sighed. One more hour until he could go pick up Alex and go home. It was Friday, and Fridays were their nights, so they were going to eat Chinese food and watch Beauty and the Beast for the thousand time and probably play a game together, and he couldn’t wait.

Someone knocked on his open door and he startled a little as he was pulled out of his head. Stiles smiled at him from the doorway.

”Hey, professor Hale,” he said.

”Mr Stilinski,” Derek said and tried to keep his smile professionally polite.

Every time he talked to Stiles he had to remind himself that he was his student, that while he was 18, and legal in that aspect, he was still ten years younger than Derek, Sheriff Stilinski’s son, and again, his student.

Gym Rats by i_am_girlfriday

Stiles spots Derek at the smoothie shop across the street from the gym early on a crisp April morning, it’s not even 7 AM yet. For some reason, and Stiles will deny it has anything to do with Derek in joggers, he decides that maybe this is the perfect chance to introduce himself.

It’s Always For You by S_Horne

There in the drawer lay an envelope which suddenly caught Stiles’ attention with its capitalized text. As he brought it closer for a better look his brain shut down for a second. That was his name. His name and his husband’s… Reading the top form with utter disbelief, Stiles pulled out the other pieces of paper with shaking hands and a heart that threatened to beat straight out of his chest.

/

“I won’t sign. I promise you right now, I’m not going to sign them.” When he got no reply but a shake of the head, his voice broke with his heart. “Please, don’t do this.”

Flowerwolf & Beacon Roots by alisvolatpropiis

Derek tries not to show his surprise, curiously hopeful, but still suspicious of Laura’s involvement. “Oh. How do you know my coffee order then?”

He grins. “The cute baristo knows your order, dude. All I had to do was ask for Grumpy Flower Guy’s usual.”

Derek huffs. “I’m not grumpy.”

“He says grumpily,” Stiles smirks, winking.

The sound of his own laughter surprises Derek, so yeah, okay, maybe Stiles has a point.

“Laura said that you weren’t really into dating,” Stiles goes on, “but that uh, you uh, well you know.” Stiles’ cheeks flush a very pretty ruddy pink under the scatter of beauty marks that Derek aches to taste. Stiles turns away, towards the cooler of roses, muttering to himself under his breath, which of course Derek can hear perfectly well. “Great freakin’ advice, Lydia, ‘just bring up sex and tell him you’re cool with having a one night stand,’ okay, sure, that worked fucking beautifully.”

“Okay.” The word is out of his mouth before Derek can even think about the consequences of saying it, something unusual for him. He wants Stiles however he can get him, it seems.

“Okay?” Stiles eyes are wide when he spins back to look at him.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s have sex.”

#answered #anonymous #sterek #sterek fic rec #sterek fanfic #sterek fanfiction #age difference

[spaceorphan18]

Marvel Movie Night: X-Men The Last Stand

So - when this came out, I worked at a theater.  We got to see an early screening of it.  When we walked my mom turned to me and said -- that wasn’t good, right? I had to agree.  

So.  Here we are.  I feel like I have a very complicated relationship with this film, because I know a crap ton about X-Men and knowing more means this film feels like even more of a mess than maybe a general audience would know.  It’s hard to really comment on whether or not this is a good film.   It’s definitely far more watchable than the Fantastic Four, or the other Marvel related films coming out at the time that weren’t Spider-Man.  However, it doesn’t hold together too well overall.  

The biggest issue this film has is that it’s trying to shove too many story lines with too many mutants into one film, and it kind of fails at everything that it’s trying to do.  

But first - a comment on production.  It was kind of a mess (though, I’m super fascinated that there was an original draft of this that Emma Frost played by Sigourney Weaver.  Damn, I’m sad we didn’t get that).  Directors switched, writers switched, actors were no longer under contract -- and I mean, most productions have things change, but all of this resulted in this film getting pulled in fifteen different directions, and I do thing that did have an effect on the final result.  

So - let’s talk about what this film is trying to do.  

The Dark Phoenix saga.  One of the most iconic X-Men stories ever told, and it is for a reason.  Having just reread it last month, it’s egregious to me how much this movie misses the point.  Look - I’m fine, in general, when other media changes original stories for adaptations.  Film is not comics, but I do think you need to understand the essence of the story in order to do it well in an adaptation.  And The Last Stand just doesn’t understand the Phoenix story.  

See - in the comics, it’s a lot about manipulation, control, and power - and how Jean Grey is being manipulated, but breaks out of it with her extreme power.  (There’s also a ton about crazy space forces, but I understand why they didn’t go there, it’s... uber complicated.)  But, the point is that this ends up being an internal story -- how Jean deals with the power once she’s broken free from the manipulation, how how her relationships with various X-Men help her cope with split identity.  At the end -- with her friends behind her, she decides to end her own life, and her sacrifice is make sure she doesn’t destroy the universe.  And it’s very beautifully told.  

There are three things (major) things I have issue with in this film -- 1. With the exception of Cyclops, in a limited role, and slightly Xavier, Jean’s relationships with other people are just not explored enough to have an emotional impact; 2. At no point is Jean ever back in control of her own agency.  Xavier manipulates her, then Magneto, then she just stands around for a long time until Wolverine finally kills her.  It cheapens everything about Jean Grey and agency the original story has, and I hate it.  3. The story in the movie seems to service the goddamn Logan/Jean Grey love story that I hate in the comics, and I hate it more here - but I’ll spare you the diatribe.  

The other thing, though... The animated series got this right -- but it could because it had time to.  See, the comics drew this whole story out for years, and it’s emotional pay off works better over a long period of time, which a two hour movie just doesn’t have.  And it’s especially hurt when it’s truncated due to a whole other plot in the film.  Which leads me to... 

The Cure - the second plot of the film.  Joss Whedon’s Astonishing X-Men at the time was a big hit, so they decided to use this story.  It’s not a bad story -- it has to do with the big political element that the X-Men always are dealing with, and that’s fine.  But, because it can’t be the full focus, it too feels overstuffed.  (Really the film wants to be this plot, and should have never done Dark Phoenix in the first place.)

Unfortunately, because they need to shoehorn in Magneto, the brotherhood, the Morlocks, and every other mutant in the X-Universe (except Gambit for some reason) - this turns into a mess, where Magneto is his Silver Age, scenery chewing self, and a whole lot of people punch each other because that’s what these third acts usually devolve into.  The Cure story line is and can be a much smaller story, too, and maybe works better as such, but this is a major blockbuster - which I’m sure studio mandates a certain amount of CGI nonsense.  Ah well.  

Other Thoughts (dear god, get ready for all the thoughts!): 

The Danger Room scene at the beginning of the film is a goddamn delight -- that is how you use the X-Men working as a team, and that’s how you use Wolverine in a good capacity. 

One thing I’ll credit this film - it does better with its action sequences, and specifically letting the X-Men actually work as a team.  

I can’t help but feel, though, that I wish more of the classic X-Men teams had been together for their last stand.  Something about Wolverine’s little pep talk felt hollow - maybe because these characters we’ve barely met and/or interacted with and the emotional resonance isn’t there. 

FWIW - the special effects in this film are such an upgrade than all the crud had has come before it -- especially Fantastic Four, which was only a year or so earlier.  

Hugh Jackman has finally really settled in his role as Wolverine, he’s great, yadda, yadda

Famke Janssen continues to be an excellent Jean Grey, and I’m sorry her story line stunk so badly.  The scene with her and Wolverine, where she goes through the gamut of emotions, is really quite wonderful.  It’s a shame she spends half the movie just standing (or sitting) there.  

I understand that James Marsden kind of tapped out of the franchise to go do Superman, but I’m so sad that they really didn’t do Cyclops well in any of these films.  He’s such a great character, and you wouldn’t know it at all by these films. 

The Beast! Who’d have thought that Kelsey Grammer would have been a good choice for Beast -- but it works.  

I think Halle Berry asked for more to do as Storm.  Well -- she has more to do, but she still doesn’t feel like Storm.  I want an X-Men film where she Ororo Monrue is given the proper chance to shine. 

Oh - I should mention Storm vs Callisto is a thing here, as an easter egg to long time fans, but it’s not satisfying to me as a long time fan because, like, most everything in this film, they kind of fucked it up.  

Meanwhile... oh Rogue, maybe we shouldn’t get me started on how my favorite X-Man is the utter worst in this film.  Not only is she barely in this film but... this is such a complicated issue for this character -- to be given five minutes of screen time is just the utter worst.  And no, Rogue would never do that.  No, no, no.  

Ellen Page as Kitty Pryde is amazing, and she should have had her own movie.  I find it hilarious, though, that she and Iceman kinda flirt with each other here -- since Iceman is canonically gay, and Kitty is subtextually bi.  It’s just... funny.  

Iceman - in his ice form.  Yes, more of this. 

Angel is here! He literally does nothing, but he doesn’t do much in the comics either, so it kinda hilariously works.  I like the actor, too, he’s a great match.  

The dude playing Colossus is a delight - again, more screen time needed! I kinda love that he’s just carrying around a TV to show his strength. 

Lord help me - the Juggernaut is the worst.  I hated that meme.  I hate that he looks like a literal dick head.  I hate that he’s portrayed as a mutant when he’s not, etc, etc.  

There’s so much more to comment on, but I’ll spare you the time -- I mean there’s Moira MacTaggart, and the Morlocks - who are also the Omega Gang?, and Leech, and Eric Dane playing Multiple Man, and really... they brought in Stacey X (you guys ask me about Stacey X...), and apparently Psylocke is supposed to be in here somewhere, and sentinel camoes, and Trask, and Mystique...  But, this review is long enough. 

I do need to point out - the President is played by Josef Somer, who played Ducksworth in The Mighty Ducks, and I can only think of ‘quacking’ whenever I look at him. 

Final Thoughts: It’s probably more enjoyable for a non-fan than a hardcore X-Man fan.  It’s not as bad as people make it out to seem, but it’s not good either.  Overall, there’s a lot of potential that gets squandered and exploded.  Ah well.  

#marvel movie nights

[smokeybrand]

Smokey Brand Movie Reviews: Shoot Your Shot

A while back, i remember seeing still of Chloe Moretz in a jumpsuit, wading through ankle deep water. I was curious about what the f*ck i was looking at but not so curious that i would look it up. I enjoy Moretz as an actress. She’s f*cking excellent at her craft and as been since she started working way back when. The problem is, as prolific as her career has become, she picks f*cking terrible roles, man. There are some gems, some really great performances like Hick, Let Me In, and Hugo, but there are a ton of duds, man. Whatever it is she was filming in that jumpsuit, i was a little sus about it. Fast forward to now, the movie apparently dropped in Amazon Prime! It’s a World War II movie called Shadow in the Cloud. Since we’re all still under quarantine and the cinemas aren’t open out here, i said to myself, “F*ck it.” Let’s see what’s up with this thing. My hopes aren't high for it, to be honest. Even in a recovery year following the worst thing to ever happen to Hollywood in the modern era, this thing still got the January dump. Like, wat.

The Good

The first thing you notice about this movie is that dark synth soundtrack. If you know me, if you pay attention to this blog, you know I'm all about that sh*t. Tangerine Dream, Brad Fiedel, and John Carpenter made some of favorite soundtracks for some of my favorite films and Mahuia Bridgman-Cooper might have added to that list of favorite scores, not favorite films. As a film, his one ain’t all that favorable.

I like the editing in this. It has the same energy as the soundtrack which is absolutely necessary for a film like this. Horror movies, similar to animation, live and die by audios cues but without the accompanying cuts, that music is for not. Tom Eagles did an exceptional job putting this film together. There were a decent amount of aesthetic all over this film and i kind of adored it a little it.

The cast is an interesting one. I enjoyed their performances but the actual character writing is a little sus. Most of the males in this film were sacrificed to drive home the prejudice they have for women. Still, these dude’s do a great job with what they have. Taylor John Smith, Beulah Koale, Nick Robinson, Callan Mulvey, Benedict Wall, Joe Witkowski, and Byron Coll, aren’t realistic in any real way but they serve their purpose.

This is definitely a Chloe Moretz vehicle. It’s her movie and she turns in a decent performance as Maude Garrett. it’s wild seeing Moretz in such a heavy action role. She’s been in action movies, of course, but it’s up to her to do the heavy lifting. we spend most of this movie with her in that bubble. She does a fantastic job drawing the viewer in, making them care about the her character. I’d be lying if i said thought I'd be this interested in this movie as much as i am now. Chloe chose well with this one.

This film is mad intense. I was a little surprised by how adept this flick was able to install such rich dread at times, considering the sheer focus on Moretz’s performance, but it pulled it off with gusto. I was white-knuckling at times and, taking into account this one was a January dump, that was a real surprise.

I have to say, from an aesthetic standpoint, this flick is kind of a beauty. I touched on this before but, considering the bulk of this thing takes place in a gunner cockpit, the thing works wonders with the looks of this film. Objective, there is a lot of absolute nothing going on but the way it’s framed, the colors chosen, those cuts to the images in Maude’s head - They all come together to bring a rather interesting and lovely visual.

I rather liked the writing displayed, too. It’s difficult articulating what effectively is a One Woman show but Max Landis does a serviceable job in that respect. I’m not a fan of Landis, himself, he’s quite the scumbag, but i an see the brilliance behind his words onscreen with Moretz’s performance. That might have something to do with his writing partner, though. Roseanne Liang ha a credit on this but i don’t know how much of it as really her word. There are some very Landis-y lines delivered in this but it’s hard for me to think that anything Moretz dropped were all up to him. As far as  i can tell, dude hates women so...

The Bad

I don’t care for war movies. When i was a kid, y uncle would preempt all of my cartoons on Saturday to watch either war flicks or football. I hate both now. In order for a war movie to actually overtake my seething bias, it has to bamboozle me with performance, spectacle, or plot. Shadow did not do this. I wasn’t as engaged as i should have been and, in all honesty, I'll probably never watch this thing ever again but the time I did spend with it was quite engaging. Who knows? Maybe in time I might revisit it. There is a lot to like therein.

Whoo, boy, the messaging in this is not subtle. At all. Sh*t is mad heavy-handed and i kind of resent it. Look, i get it. This film has something to say and it is, one hundred percent, valid to say it but subtlety goes a long way. We were immediately hit over the head with these cartoonish caricatures of asshole men and it’s kind of ridiculous. I mean, there are ways to make this happen without f*cking making the male characters overly obtuse but, goddamn, if this sh*t doesn’t just throw that out the window. Sacrificing the realism of one character to bolster the reality of another makes for lousy character writing. There was too much sacrificed to give this thing that raucous Grrrrl power energy and i think that takes away from the film overall. It’ll definitely alienate those with weaker masculinity, for sure.

Not one hundred percent on board with the gremlin design. It looks a little wonky. I imagine it’s some sort of bat derivative because of reasons but i don’t particularly like it. I don’t know if it’s because I'm coloring this thing with my bias for the old timey Gremlins films gremlins, it’ hard to beat Stripe and Mohawk, but this thing feels like a good punch to the face will do it in. As hard as they try to make it a threat, this motherf*cker did no damage on it’s own. Like, Moretz, who is kind of a tiny chick, kept beating this thing’s ass.

This thing is kind of uneasy in terms of tone. I’ve read that other reviews had said it’s three or four films in one and i an totally see that. I don’t think that’s a detriment to what the filmmakers were trying to do but i can see how others might be turned of by the tonal whiplash.

Verdict

I rather liked this movie. It gave me a ton of Overlord vibes and i ended up liking that movie way more than i expected. I can’t say i like Shadow in the Cloud enough to watch it repeatedly but, as time goes on, maybe? What i know for sure is that this thing didn’t deserve the January dump. It’s much, much, better than that, kind of like how Underwater is much better than it had any right to be for a January wasteland sacrifice. 2020 threw everything off and this flick might have been a casualty of that because, i think, if it was released in theaters, Shadow would have done fine. Chloe Moretz is pretty bad ass as Maude and carries this sometimes uneven film but she, herself, is more than enough to keep the audience engaged. Her supporting cast is a little over-the-top but they mean well and they perform amiably, great foils to Moretz’s obvious vehicle. There is a great deal here to like, from the dope ass synth soundtrack t the interesting visual cues and the hilariously cliche chauvinist banter. It can definitely be mad heavy handed with it’s politics but, if you can separate that from the actual film presented, i think you’ll have a decent time. Shadow in the Cloud isn’t the best film ever but it is a strong start to 2021.

That score is so good, dude. I can’t get it out of my head.

[yourprayer]

pop culture - chapter 2

“Adulthood in a town like Derry is even worse than childhood. The listless, empty ramblings of days dragging on in a town that felt like one-size-too-small-shoes sat heavier on the recently graduated than the younger children. Before you were eighteen and responsible for your own lunch money, you could spend your interminable afternoons exploring the surrounding environment, friends of friends abound. Escaping to the arcade and seeing the same films six times at the same theater was an acceptable amount of nothing to do at twelve years old. But when nineteen years hit Bill Denbrough and college acceptance letters didn’t, the sudden, overwhelming, nothingness of nowhere Maine became too heavy to bear.”

chapter 2 (wc: 4.3k)

previous chapter here

chapter list here

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Filtered, fading, late summer sunlight drifted lazily through Bill’s bedroom window, landing lightly on Mike’s lap. He looked down at it; it stared back at him. He could feel the gentle heat seeping through his jeans, warming his thigh. He could feel his guilt creeping in, too.

All night Bill had been up worrying himself into a frenzy. The wear was clear on his face; and Stan’s, for that matter. And here was Mike, having slept perfectly soundly.

Could he be blamed for not worrying too much? Sure, Bill’s story had been frighteningly abnormal. But was he wrong in assuming it was only a result of Bill’s continued self-isolation? He had hardly been out at all since graduation. He rarely called, rarely joined in on group outings, rarely connected. Hell, Mike couldn’t remember the last time he and Bill had gone on a bike ride, just the two of them. It was no secret he was stressed over the weight of their impending adulthood. They all were. But Bill especially had been crumbling under the pressure. Mike had just thought… well, he didn’t know what he thought.

But it certainly hadn’t helped.

“... And you’re sure this wasn’t some kind of hallucination. You didn’t smell anything funny, or eat something you usually don’t-?” Bev was asking politely as Mike tuned back into the conversation.

“I’m s-sure.”

“Dude, someone could have slipped you drugs. It happens.” Richie chimed in from the floor, a little too hopefully.

“What the fuck Richie, nobody does that.” Eddie gave him a reproachful look.

“No it totally does, it happened to my cousin once. Someone put acid in his sandwich. He’s colorblind now because of it.”

“Rich, I don’t- wait, he’s fucking colorblind now?” Eddie turned to face Richie fully.

“Bad trips man, they fuck you up.” Richie shrugged. Bill was white.

“... Thanks for that, Richie, but I don’t think your story is helping.” Stan glared at Richie, both hands now on Bill’s shoulders to steady him.

“Continue, Bill.” Ben said quietly, the only one who hadn’t yet interrupted the countenance of Bill’s experience.

“A-a-anyways… After the s-sting and after I f-fell, it st-stayed like that for a minute or so… and th-then there w-w-w-” He gave up on the word with a sigh.

“You’re okay, keep going.” Stan reminded him calmly when it seemed like Bill would not try starting his sentence again.

“Th-there was another st-sting. And then it went away.”

Eddie gulped, then leaned in to Richie to whisper in his ear.

“I think that’s very much your level of weird.”

Richie was visibly shaken.

Mike wondered what the fuck that was about.

“Bev.” Ben said suddenly, coming out of his contemplation and preventing Mike from interrogating Eddie and Richie. “Do you think this has anything to do with what you told me?” He looked at her searchingly.

She thought for a moment, weighing her words.

“Possibly.”

Stan shot her an inquiring gaze. “What is he on about?”

“I had a vision today.” Bev said plainly.

“A vision.” Mike said from his chair behind her, his tone skeptic.

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “It’s never happened quite like this before, but… when I was a kid my family thought I was a prophet. I used to have these dreams, and-”

“A prophet?!” Richie leaned over Eddie, placing a hand on the other boys knee to steady himself, and looked at Bev incredulously. “What in the fuck does that mean?”

“Exactly what you think it means, Richie. I had prophetic dreams. It stopped happening after I was in like, middle school, but they used to be fairly frequent.”

“Did you have another one?” Stan asked before Richie could open his mouth again.

“Not while I was asleep.”

Silence fell, and Mike could feel his brow knitting together in skepticism. He tried to stop the thoughts kicking at his mind; everything in him was screaming to discredit all this nonsense. The things they were talking about were… impossible! As much as he loved his friends, he had to say it, they were-

No. Be more open.

“So you had a vision. And you know it was real.” Mike said, trying to keep his tone neutral and not accusatory. Bev nodded at him over her shoulder. “Okay, then, what was it of?”

“It was… well it was Bill’s hands, cupped, holding a bird.”

Mike blinked.

“What kind of bird?” Stan asked.

Richie snorted.

“Pfft, first thing he asks about a psychic fucking vision is the bird breed, whatta nerd-”

“Beep beep, Richie.” Came Eddie’s grumbled retort.

“I don’t know, like a finch or something. A small, brown one.”

Bill looked like he was gonna hurl.

“Hey, do you need some air?” Eddie placed a hand on Bill’s knee, immediately sensing his change in demeanor. Bill shook his head, but didn’t open his mouth.

“Bev and I tried to come up with some idea of what it meant, but, we couldn’t think of anything.” Ben continued when they all felt Bill wasn’t about to keel over.

“But you think it could have to do with Bill’s finger.” Mike sat back, crossing his arms.

“There’s a chance.” Ben supplied.

Richie had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the conversation, his few comments surprisingly far between. Mike had pretended not to notice, but now he could practically see the sweat on his brow. Richie was shifting uncomfortably, and Eddie was watching him like a hawk, concern written on his face. But there was something else there too…

“Around what time of day did this happen, Bev?” Eddie asked suddenly, surprising them all.

“Just after I got off work. About noon, twelve thirty?”

Eddie gave Richie a look. “And you, Bill?”

“A-around the same time…” Bill said quietly, locking eyes with Beverly.

“Rich.” Eddie said quietly, solemnly placing his hand over Richie’s on the floor. Richie swallowed, shakily raising a hand to fix his glasses.

“Okay, Richie. What the fuck is going on with you.” Both Richie and Eddie’s faces shot around, looking at Mike with wide eyes. “You’re wigged. Something to share?”

Stan, Ben and Bev all looked to the boys confused. Bill still looked visibly shaken by Beverly’s story. Eddie looked incredibly guilty, clearly fighting the urge to blurt something out. Richie gave Mike a strange look, almost like he was fighting back the fear bubbling to the surface of his emotions. The two boys looked at each other, Eddie raising a goading eyebrow. Richie shook his head acutely, shrugging and sitting back.

“Nothing to share Mike, my boy, I’m all aces.”

“No, you’re not Richie. Spill.” Stan glared at him. Richie stared back, challenging him.

Richie lost.

“Okay, okay.” He sighed, shifting his weight and settling with his legs crossed, leaning on Eddie. “Something happened to me yesterday too.”

“Same time of day?” Ben said, turning to face Richie better, leaning against the bedpost at the foot of Bill’s bed.

“Yeah.” Richie nodded.

“Do you want me to tell them?” Eddie asked, meeting Richie’s gaze.

“Go for it, spaghetti-o.” He said in a sullen tone.

Oh, this oughtta be good.

______________________________________________________________

By the time Richie had finished his story, Stan’s head was spinning. The new revelations of the afternoon had made him feel a little better about the absurdity of Bill’s situation, but it had only made him more worried about the group as a whole. Quite a few of them were experiencing strange phenomena, and all of them were freaked. Stan, for once in his life, was totally unsure of what to do. Usually he was the level-headed one, the best at taking initiative. But with this… he had no idea what to do.

“Wait, let’s- let’s think about this.” Mike started, standing up. “We have to go over our options. Would you say we should start with figuring out the cause, yeah?” There was a chorus of agreement.

Thank god for Mike.

“So Bill says he didn’t eat anything weird. But what about Richie and Bev?”

“I only had diner food. My usual.”

“I hadn’t eaten anything at that point.”

“You- did you have any food before you got to my house?” Eddie snapped.

“Uh, no?”

“Richie you went all day without eating?! You got to my house at like, midnight!”

“Relax Eds, I do this all time-”

“You do this all the time-!?”

“What about smells.” Mike interjected, giving Eddie an annoyed look. “Literally, anything out of the ordinary you can think of.”

“Other than my fucking ghost of breakfasts past experience you mean?” Richie quipped. “Maybe I had some bunk pancakes, maybe that's why my fucking stomach disappeared!”

Stan was a little shocked at the harshness of the comment. “We’re just trying to figure out what the fuck happened, you don’t have to be a dick about it.”

Richie looked at his lap ashamed. “Sorry.” He mumbled.

The group sat in silence, contemplating, a million thoughts racing through the stagnant air in Bill’s bedroom.

One of them, coagulating, dread filling the room as the light bulb clicked for each of them.

“You don’t think…” Bev said, looking up at Stan and Bill.

“Of course I think.” Stan said after a moment. “How could we be so stupid, of course its-”

“Wait wait wait, you guys aren’t serious, are you?” Mike sighed. “There’s no way-”

“Do you really think there’s any other explanation, Mike?” Ben rejoined.

Eddie and Richie shared a look that ended in the both of them groaning, Eddie resting his head in his hands.

“What? What’s wrong with you two?”

“I can’t believe we didn’t think of that.” Eddie muttered. “For hours we kept going over it, and it never crossed our minds.”

“Shoulda been the first thing that came up.” Richie flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

“Do you realize what you’re even insinuating here, guys?” Mike started pacing. “The idea that, well, that- had anything to do with this crazy shit? It’s un-fucking-believable.”

“And what else was it, huh? We all saw it, we all knew something was up, it has to be the reason!” Stan said, standing up. Bill glanced up at his back, almost whining at the loss of his friend (that he had been leaning heavily on) next to him.

“There’s got to be some kind of connection.” Ben stood as well, walking to the window. “I mean, I don’t know about you guys, but the memory is.. Kinda fuzzy for me. I can’t really think of the specifics of what happened but… that’s gotta be it.”

Bill looked down at his sheets. “I don’t really r-r-remember either.”

“So even if this thing did something to us, how the fuck does that work?” Eddie asked, stress clear on his face. Richie noticed and raised his hand to rub circles on the smaller boys back.

“Beats me.” Mike groaned. “But I seriously doubt it.”

“I think we should go back.” Bev said, determined.

“Are you insane?” Eddie looked over at her. “We should never go back!”

“Hey, why not, Eds.” Richie said, sitting up and putting an arm around Eddie. “It could help us find answers.”

“Well you can go without me.” Eddie pouted.

“Hell n-no.” Bill said firmly, his voice finally regaining a normal volume. “We have to go back together. A-all of us.”

“There’s no way I’m doing that!” Eddie shot up, pushing Richie away. “That thing gave me the fucking creeps and I don’t want to be near it again! If it’s- if it’s what did this then we should stay away from it! We’re lucky we didn’t die!”

“Eddie-”

“Don’t Eddie me, Bev! I’m serious, I’m not going!”

Silence fell.

Richie got up.

He and Eddie shared a look.

Eddie lost.

______________________________________________________________

Mike’s old Toyota trundled down the old gravel logging road, the radio playing softly over the slight breeze and the crunch of the tires. Bill had brought his dad’s favorite Blues Brothers cassette, and the opening notes of “B” Movie Boxcar Blues filled the cab of the truck. Bill sat center, between their trusty chauffeur and Stan, who maintained that riding in the back of a truck would be his cause of death someday. In the back, Richie and Eddie took the left side, while Ben and Bev huddled together under their picnic blanket. The picnic in question, a large woven basket taken from Mrs. Denbrough’s inexplicably large collection, filled with snacks and homemade sandwiches, sat in the bed of the truck between them. Bev and Richie were passing a cigarette back and forth across the space, and Eddie scowled everytime Richie got up to grab it from her, peeved at the loss of the heat. He was stupidly wearing only a thin grey cotton hoodie, and he was mourning his thicker coat still hanging up at home. When the cigarette was done, Richie settled in for the length of the ride against Eddie, resting a head on his shoulder and looping his arm through Eddie’s. He tried to ignore the heat in his cheeks. They were just chapped from the wind.

______________________________________________________________

“C’mon jackasses, I told you it’s just right around here!”

“Tozier, slow the fuck down, you’re gonna get yourself killed!”

“Relax, Staniel, I’m a professional.”

“Professional asshole.” Eddie mumbled, struggling to find a good grip.

“Professional rock climber first, professional asshole second.” He winked over his shoulder at Eddie, disappearing as he crested the bluff.

“What’s so important that we have to climb all the way up there?” Ben called from the back of the group, groaning at the ascent ahead of him.

“I don’t kn-know, we’ve lost him.” Bill called back, backpack hanging loosely off his shoulders and threatening to fall in Stan’s face.

“Just- keep going you guys.” Mike said through gritted teeth, hauling himself up where Richie had just vanished.

“I don’t even wanna see this dumb thing anyways.” Ben sighed, climbing up after Beverly, who was shyly giggling at Ben’s protests.

Richie’s curls popped out over the edge, followed by his stupid shit-eating grin, right in Eddie’s line of sight as he reached the top. Eddie shrieked and lost his grip, hands flailing as he started going backwards. Richie reached down and grabbed his wrists.

“Jesus Christ Eds, you should be more careful down there.”

“Oh fuck you, Tozier, you scared me!” Bill and Stan shared a bought of laughter below them. “It’s not funny, Denbrough!” Eddie glared down at them. They kept laughing anyway.

Richie proceeded to pull Eddie up over the edge. He had brought them to a grassy bluff, which stretched on to the edges of a forest, a good mile or so past them. The open field was beautiful. Eddie stared in wonder up at the open expanse of the night sky. It was a clear Saturday night; by now it had passed midnight and would count as early Sunday. He walked forward, pulling the sleeves of his sweater back down and shivering lightly. He was mesmerized, as the rest of the losers one by one climbed over the edge to join him, Mike, and Richie.

“Wow.” Beverly sighed, looking up at the sky. “This is a much better view than the quarry.

“Please tell me you didn’t drag us all the way up here for the view.” Stan glared at Richie, who was looking frantically around the clearing.

“No, Stan, I told you, I saw it land over here.” Richie responded distractedly. “It’s gotta be up here somewhere.”

“So to answer your question Stan, no, we came up here to chase Richie’s falling star.” Bev mocked, rolling her eyes as they all started to follow Richie, who had started trudging across the clearing.

“The one only he saw?” Mike laughed with her.

“Hey, I saw it too.” Eddie said defensively.

Bill and Stan shared a look. Bill shrugged. “I’ll a-a-admit it. I saw it t-too.”

“I think we would have felt it if something crash-landed this close to us, Rich.” Ben mumbled. “Besides-”

Everyone fell silent as they reached a downward curve in the clearing. As the plain tilted down towards the treeline, they came to a halt at the top of the hill.

Down where the grass plateaued into flatland and met the trees, was a deep, gaping hole in the earth, a blueish green light pulsating from its center.

“Holy shit.” About half of them muttered simultaneously.

“HA!” Richie turned to face the group from his end on the left. “I fucking told you!”

And then he promptly ran all the way down the fucking hill towards it.

“Richie, what the fuck?!” Eddie screeched after him, torn between fear and frustration, afraid to move. Bill and Mike quickly looked at each other before running down after Richie. Ben and Bev joined hands and followed down at a cautious walk, leaving Eddie and Stan at the top of the hill.

“God they’re so fucking- this is- this is stupid! We shouldn’t be going near that thing!”

“You’re preaching to the choir here, Eddie. No fucking way I’m going down there.”

“Guys! GUYS GET THE FUCK BACK UP HERE!”

“QUIT YOUR SCREECHING EDS! THIS THING’S FUCKIN LEGIT, GET DOWN HERE!”

“NO FUCKING WAY!” Eddie shook his head violently, his breathing growing quicker. “I’M STAYING RIGHT HERE!”

“SUIT YOURSELF, PUSSY!”

“Beep beep, Richie.” Mike shot him a look as they all formed a circle around the hole.

“Sorry, sorry, I just wish they’d come down here and look at this shit!”

“They’ll come when they’re ready.” Bev gave him a placating look.

“Bill, you got my camera in there?” Ben said, pointing towards the backpack.

“Yeah, h-here.” Bill shrugged off the bag and unzipped it, holding it out so Ben could pull out his portable film camera. He waved Bill and Bev to scoot back, then leaned forward over the pit and started snapping photos.

“This has gotta be the thing I saw. It’s a fuckin meteor or some shit.” Richie said excitedly.

“I’m sure Stan would know better, if he would come look at it.” Mike interjected. “Dude’s a science whiz.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s the presiding authority, Mike and Ike! I happen to know quite a lot about science myself.” Richie put his hands on his hips. “First rule of science; hypothesis. What’s ours, ladies and gents?”

“It’s a rock from space?” Beverly supplied.

“Yes, but you have to phrase it smart-like.” Richie snap-pointed in exuberance.

“This rock’s origin is unknown, but is definitely from somewhere beyond Earth.”

“That’s the ticket, Mike! Now, how do we prove it?”

“Guessing?” Bill snorted.

“No, dear Billiam! One word: experimentation.”

A devilish smile crept onto Richie’s face. Bill went white.

“No. R-Rich, no-”

“Tally-ho!”

And with that, Richie Tozier dove down the hole, feet first.

______________________________________________________________

Stan doesn’t think he’s ever heard Eddie Kaspbrak screech so loudly.

Or seen him run so fast.

“Richie! Richie, get out of there!” The other losers were crowded around the hole, calling down to Richie, who had disappeared completely into the darkness of the pit. Stan ran begrudgingly down to the group after Eddie, who vaulted past the others and practically catapulted himself into the hole after Richie.

“Eddie, no!” Ben called, gaping at him as he watched the smaller boy descend.

“Christ guys, get out of there!” Mike yelled, leaning his face down into the hole. “Jesus, I can’t see shit-”

“Do you have a flashlight in there?” Bev said, gesturing at Bill’s bag.

“It m-might not have battery life, b-but yeah.” Bill pulled an old flashlight of his dad’s out of his bag. It took a few smacks to get it to turn on, but once the beam shined true he handed it over to Mike, who resumed his inspection of the hole.

“I can’t see them at all.” Mike grumbled. “It goes on for awhile.”

“I’m going in.” Ben said, handing his camera to Bev.

“No, no way. We just need to get them to climb back out.” Bev said, gripping his hands.

“Richie! Ed! Come on, get out of there!” Mike called down the hole. No response.

“Guys, seriously, what if they’re stuck down there-” Ben protested.

“RICHARD TOZIER! EDWARD KASPBRAK! GET YOUR ASSES BACK UP HERE!” Mike bellowed, before scrambling back from the hole in surprise.

“Jesus, Michael, no need to get formal on us.” Richie smiled up at him as he climbed up out of the pit. “We found something.”

“For fuck’s sake Tozier, you scared the shit out of us.” Ben breathed, relief coursing through him. “Where’s Eddie?”

“I’m here!” Came Eddie’s muffled voice, and his left hand reaching up out of the hole next to Richie. Richie moved out of the way and reached down to pull Eddie out, which resulted in the two of them tumbling over and landing side by side on the ground, Eddie on his stomach.

“We found something.” He declared into the grass.

“So we’ve been told.” Bev raised an eyebrow.

“Look at this.” Richie said in a hushed tone, pulling something from his pocket as Mike helped Eddie to his feet. Richie stood, object in hand, as they all crowded round to see.

In the palm of Richie’s hand sat a rock of some kind, no bigger than a baseball, that was glowing.

The center was a pulsating blue, the greenish hues more visible the closer to the edges the light got. It was rough and crystalline in form, with bits of black and rough particles mixed in around it. The light was low and flickering, much darker than what had been visible from the top of the hill. Beverly gasped in awe, immediately reaching out to take it in her own hands.

“Wow.” She breathed, in awe of the sight. Ben immediately leveled his camera to take a picture. (Multiple. Certainly because of the cool space rock. Totally not because of Beverly’s beautiful expression.)

“What the fuck is that…” Stan pondered quietly, as he and Bill went to take the stone from Bev. They each used a hand to hold both ends, examining the underneath as they raised it above their heads. They passed it to Mike, looking at each other in confusion.

“Is it… getting brighter?” Mike pondered as he held the stone in one hand.

“Sort of looks like it is.” Ben said, repositioning Mike’s hand so he could get a better picture of the stone before taking it in his hand himself. “It feels kind of warm.” He took another shot of it in his palm.

“It wasn’t warm when we picked it up-” Eddie grabbed the stone from Ben, holding it level with his face so he could inspect it closely. He suddenly hissed in pain and dropped it. “Ow, fuck!”

The dew-covered grass where the stone landed began to sizzle. “Whoa, Eddie, you okay?” Richie grabbed at Eddie’s hand, inspecting it for a burn mark.

“That thing fucking burned me!”

The light from the stone grew brighter.

“Uh, guys?”

“You don’t have a mark-”

The hue grew more green, a deep, true green.

“Guys!”

“I think I know when I’ve been burned, Richie-”

“Guys, move!”

And then, there was light.

______________________________________________________________

Bill shook his head as he sat up, grass and dirt clinging to his cheek. To his left was a disgruntled Stan, face down in the grass as he tried to push himself up with his arms.

Across the field, about twenty yards away from him was Beverly. She wasn’t stirring. Beyond her, a few more yards to her left, was Ben, who was hoisting himself into a kneeling position.

Bill turned the other way to see Mike, closer by. He was groaning, and pretty soon Bev’s disdain joined his. Beyond Mike, nearly fifty yards away, Richie was shaking a limp form.

Oh god.

Bill was on his feet as quickly as possible, but hadn’t accounted for the effect the shock would have on his body. He went down almost immediately, bile rising in his stomach as he landed on all fours.

“Eddie! Eddie!” Richie’s frantic shouts started to float across the expanse, each of the others realizing what was going on and attempting to stumble their way over to the two boys.

Bill went directly past the pit as he made his way to the others. He passed the charred spot in the grass where the stone had landed.

It was gone.

“Eddie!” Richie was growing more and more frantic, the panic clear on his face when Mike reached them first.

“Rich, Rich, let go, give him some air.” Mike said calmly as he tried to lay Eddie out flat.

“Why won’t he wake up?!”

“Hey, hey, he’s been knocked pretty hard, okay? It’s gonna take him a minute, shaking him won’t help.” Richie took a shuddering breath, but hesitantly nodded.

Bill and Stan came running over, before kneeling down on either side of Richie. Bev and Ben stood behind them when they arrived, looking down at Eddie’s quiet form with worry.

“Eddie, hey, time to wake up now.” Mike said in a gentle tone, lightly tapping Eddie’s face. A small trail of blood started running out of Eddie’s nose.

Richie lost his shit.

“Eds- Eds, oh my god, look at his nose!” He cried, reaching out to wipe the blood away and shake his face.

“Richie! Be careful with him, he could have a concussion!” Mike yelled, trying to pull Richie’s hands away. The scuffle jostled Eddie more, but the boy still didn’t stir. When Mike was finally able to pull Richie away, and Stan and Bill got ahold of his hands to keep him from reaching out again, they heard a small intake of breath.

“What th-... what the fuck?”

“Eddie!”

Richie lost his handlers and immediately scooped the smaller boy into his arms. “Jesus fucking Christ Eds, you scared the shit out of me.”

“What the fuck happened?” He muttered, rubbing a sore spot on his head.

“That thing fucking exploded.” Stan said plainly. “Right over-” He trailed off as they all turned to look at where the stone had dropped, and they saw nothing but an empty field.

authors notes: here’s a good old flashback sequence for yall!!! i hope maybe soon any questions you have will start to get answered <3 again, a huge thanks to my lovely beta and bff @richiefreakingtozier, the goddess that is sara (follow her u dingnuts!!!) please give a like or a reblog if u enjoyed!!!!

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[arabellaflynn]

Apparently the only interesting thing I have to write about right now is the ongoing saga of some random dude I know. I still have no idea why other people are interested in ye ballroom dance instructor and what I think about him. I try to justify the existence of this blog by using stuff in my life to launch into actual important thoughts about people and experiences and how social interactions work, so I hope you all get something out of this. The important part, so far as I'm concerned, shook out several months ago. I was assistant stage manager on a show that ye ballroom instructor was arranging, liasing, producing, and performing in, because sometimes the really talented ones are also slightly insane. It was about 85% brilliantly orchestrated, but we kept running into things that should have been done but weren't, or information we should have had but didn't. The stage manager and I both finally popped a sprocket at him when he remembered to tell one of us (me) that he wanted to tip over a water bottle at some point during his performance. Our theater is also a studio, and has vinyl dance floor. Water is almost impossible to mop up completely, it'll get into the underflooring (which is wood, because the building is ancient), and it's a terrible slip hazard. We could not figure out what on Earth made him think that was a good idea. He's not normally bad to work with on stage; he's good at logistics and a surprisingly good mechanical engineer, which dancers for some reason normally aren't. I finally broke down and asked him. "You've never been on a tech crew, have you?" And he said no. And I thought about that for a while. He's apparently been a performer since always, and I know he has some management experience. All of the things he had been remembering to do were things he either could have figured out from handling events, or from watching from the wings of whatever show he was in. He got a lot of it -- he's terrifyingly observant, especially when he cares to try -- but he was missing a lot of the internal tech documents, that crew would have had up in the booth or taped to the back of the props table. I'd already figured out that if I'd ever said something to him, or even just said it within earshot, it was probably still rattling around in his brain somewhere. If he didn't know we needed this stuff, it could only have been because no one had ever told him. At this point, I went from being annoyed that I didn't have things I needed to run a show to being kind of outraged on his behalf. This happens a lot when you're painfully smart, especially if you're also self-taught. People mistake "learns best by cramming stuff into their head without distractions," for "pulls information magically out of the ether when needed". One of these things makes them think it's a good idea to leave you alone in a quiet room full of books, and the other one makes them think it's a good idea to maroon you in the middle of a random project with no resources. Ye ballroom instructor is more than intelligent enough to trigger this kind of magical thinking, even in people who would normally be much saner. I could give you a logical rationale for what I did next, but it would be bullshit. I just felt, very strongly, that he needed to know that this was not fair and he was not a failure more than I needed him to not start politely avoiding me at work. If I have to choose between improving someone's life and getting someone to like me, I'll go for the first one every time. It sucks when someone you care about doesn't care about you back, but the feeling that nothing I do has any impact or makes the world any better is a thing that keeps me up at night. I caught him on his way out after strike and told him very bluntly what I thought about all this. Mostly that if this was the job he did with no instructions whatsoever, he was clearly fucking brilliant; that it was not okay for them to have hung him out to dry like that; and that all he had to do was ask and I would be happy to tell him everything I knew about anything he needed. He looked at me very quietly for a moment, and said: "We could fix this." And he was right. It took a couple of months, but between my loud goddamn opinions and probably a lot of his diplomacy, we more or less turned the department upside down and shook it until it quit being a chaotic mess and started being an actual theater. I don't know all of what he's been up to, on the office end, but I've very nearly convinced them to use the computer correctly, too. You could argue that by 'we' he meant the organization we work for. I wouldn't. Mainly because I was there, and I saw the look on his face. My guess is that he was feeling rather alone and out of his depth at that point, and I was probably the first person who offered any kind of constructive help. I'm infamous for telling people, "Yes, I know you can do it all yourself, but you shouldn't have to." He is quite clearly capable of learning how to do all of the jobs, and eventually will, but things run a lot less frantically when there is a second person, ideally who also knows all the jobs, to pick things up when you run out of hands. I got a very big hug for that. Not the first one I got that weekend, but that happens when you're helping someone extract something important from their brain and put it on stage. [I figured out later that when I really hit a button, he just quits answering verbally, especially when there aren't any other witnesses about. Have no idea if he does this with everyone -- I dunno what he's like when he's alone with other people, because I'm, you know, not there -- or if he just figures that I read subtitles well enough that he doesn't have to talk. For all of you out there muttering, "Use your words!" -- I do. A lot. One of my missions in life is voicing all the useful feedback people need but rarely get, especially if it's nice. I say all kinds of weird shit. But, for better or worse, a lot of things are much clearer to me and feel much more 'real' when I get them off of body language. Either this is just coincidentally how he works, or he's doing it/letting himself do it on purpose because it seems to be more effective on me. Doesn't really matter; the end result is the same.]

I'm not going to pretend I haven't had random freakouts over all this. I've had random freakouts over everything. Probably the most impressive one was over Independence Day weekend. Narratively speaking, it roamed over five or six different topics, including 'oh god I am an irritating pest and nothing I've ever done has ever helped anybody at all'; on a practical level, it was mostly because I ran out of sedatives before the neighbors ran out of motherfucking bottle rockets. It happens when my overall stress levels climb too high, and starvation is really really good at making you feel like everything is awful and you might die. 

I am also aware that whatever part of my brain does that is stupid and flaily for no real reason most of the time. It's pretty impervious to logic, but even it doesn't really have much of a response to the rest of my brain pointing out that nobody ever asks if you're dating someone who looked unhappy about that hug he just got, so. Uninterested third parties often (accidentally) provide the best evidence for making shit like that shut up.

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[thesportssoundoff]

DC, Mighty Mouse, “marketing African Americans differently” and attempting to dissect hows and whys

Joey

June 8th, 2017

HABOY.

There's no real way to parse this because, in essence, there's no definite truths. When DC talks about advertising/promoting to African Americans, it's tough because in MMA (and in pro wrestling), I can't think of any definitive examples of what would actually be a successful promotion of African Americans. What's more, I guess there's probably a lack of adulthood in terms of realistically discussing and analyzing what IS or IS NOT successful promotion in general and specifically successful promotions to groups of people (Asian fighters to Asian markets, Latin american/South American etc etc etc). If there was ONE actual definitive way to do this shit, everybody would be doing it. Star creation is luck, promotional design and the right talent and there's never an easy to follow pattern as to how to pull that off. Against better judgment, let's swim some treacherous waters:

1- The UFC (and MMA in general) absolutely could better market to African Americans/Black combat sports fans. Of that I'm sure there is no disagreement.

2- How? I 'unno. Maybe you can hire some people to better analyze how you can do that OR it's like with Bob Arum on White people; ya just kinda chalk it up as a loss.

3- When I look at the top draws in boxing who are Black/African American what have you (because SURELY we wouldn't consider Anthony Joshua an African American!), the reality is that MMA as a whole kind of sort of conflicts with what made a lot of those guys super popular. First let's begin by defining the main players I'm looking at. To me the big draws of the past 20-25 years or so are guys like Floyd Mayweather, Roy Jones Jr, Mike Tyson, Bernard Hopkins (MIGHT be stretching it here), Adrian Broner (does great TV numbers with really no sort of promotional push) and maybe a Keith Thurman? Removing heavyweights sans Tyson because I think we can agree Tyson is a DIFFERENT transcendent sort of name.

Whereas in boxing, trash talk and shit talk is really accepted, it's almost like MMA works hard to run AWAY from that. All of those guys mentioned above are pretty much great talkers. Thurman's an underrated talker to be entirely honest. The sport in many ways tries at times to nearly drown itself in humility and politeness and while I don't want 1,000,000 Conor McGregor's running around---the best fights draw more often than not on a basis of SOME element of dislike. As a boxing promoter pal once told me, it doesn't have to be real but it has to feel real. Fight promotion in many ways is simply about taking what works in pro wrestling/theater (people want to see real combat with a party they aim to root for or two parties they want to see BOTH get hurt) and subtracting what doesn't (over the top contrived nonsense, overcomplicated matters). Sometimes being humble is more than acceptable, GSP drew big money being humble as did Anderson Silva, but even THEY needed an antagonistic rival to draw the biggest money they could. Humble on its own in MMA, at least in today's MMA, can't draw significant money.

Now of course this goes any race, gender, orientation so on so forth. Anytime a conflict of significance FEELS real, you don't have to be a certain race or nationality to want to see this shit go down. Even if you buy into the idea of Japanese fans being ultra polite and all about the sport, I'd bet Rampage vs Wanderlei beefing it out did way better business than humble sportsman Fedor mowing down dudes. I'm just using the guys who drew big in boxing who were African American who drew big money and how they did it. It's not just about the skills, it's about the style that goes along with it. THAT, in turn, brings us to....

4- The MMA model directly car crashes with what makes a lot of those guys super popular. Going back to Bob Arum for a second, when Floyd Mayweather and Bob Arum had their big split apart, it came down to Bob not seeing what Floyd was seeing. Bob wanted another Sugar Ray Leonard but Floyd Mayweather believed that the public tide was turning. The rap lifestyle of flash, sizzle and big money was where the push was----and so with no true way to reconcile, the split occurred. Floyd ultimately was OBVIOUSLY correct as "Money" Mayweather has carried boxing (with pinch hits from Oscar De La Hoya, Manny Pacquaio, Miguel Cotto and Canelo Alvarez kinda) over the past however many decades. Look at Broner's poor man's (irony?) version of Floyd Mayweather act. Even being an utter goofball with the Buddy Landel edition of Floyd's Ric Flair, Broner does BIG business numbers whenever he fights. It's not just about who you are and how good you are, it's about flashing the rewards and repping the lifestyle while ya do it. Bernard Hopkins is clearly the outlier in this regard as B-Hop is notorious for being a guy who sits on money like it's about to hatch or something but look at Tyson, Floyd, RJJ, Broner and even "Sugar" Shane Mosley. There's a lifestyle to be lead here.

MMA doesn't pay in that way. No fighter ever will approach Floyd's major paydays and it could be realistic argued that this sport is 20 years away from making what Floyd made on the low side of his PPV fights before his big breakout. Right now ONE guy in this business could demand 1 mil plus and he's probably on his way out soon. Whether it can or can't is always going to be open to interpretation I guess---but I think we'd all agree that the UFC (or Bellator or anybody) aren't going to overpay somebody (in their eyes) on a gamble. Mighty Mouse the fighter may be worth $1,000,000 on resume, history and skills but from a promotional standpoint, his net worth is probably not even close to that. The UFC (or so on so forth) probably aren't going to upset their pay structure on the hopes that seeing a blinged out fighter draws in a section of the audience that's not tuning in now. Could it? I mean I guess it could since Conor McGregor's trying it but it sure seems like a lot of folks see through McGregor's rent everything for a day then return it gimmick. MMA doesn't pay in a way that's drawn in the more modern African American casual audience and until that changes, you'll forever be talking about the what if's of the whole damn thing.

5- There's almost an uneasiness to go back and look at what has drawn in the African American audiences, or just big audiences involving African American fighters, before. Now off the bat, we don't know the composite of what the household breakdown is or what the demos were but let's JUST look at the big drawing fights with African Americans at the top of the billing. The biggest fights off the top of my head are Rashad Evans vs Rampage Jackson, Jon Jones vs Daniel Cormier and Jon Jones vs Rashad Evans. There's elements of uncomfortable in that, ya know? The Rampage/Rashad beef, as fun as it was, involved a lot of really uncomfortable moments where Rashad accused Rampage of essentially of dumbing himself down for the UFC audience and running a minstrel show (a similar complaint/accusation was levied by King Mo at Rampage). Rashad vs Jon Jones was a massive falling apart between two guys who were essentially brothers to one another and Daniel Cormier vs Jon Jones involved shoes being thrown, Jones roaring on a stage like a madman and DC once proclaiming that the fans didn't like EITHER of them but they hated Jon Jones more so he was the by default babyface. I mean if  YOU were an African American looking to get into MMA, would that kinda shit drive you in?

6- What if the fighter who can appeal to African Americans just isn't in the UFC right now? Or MMA in general?

7- The UFC promotes everybody the same. The comment that always comes up is "THEY HAVE SPECIAL PROMOTIONAL TACTICS FOR GUYS THEY WANT TO PUSH" but common sense suggests they really don't.  The only person who is unique in that regard was Ronda Rousey but she's different. Guys debut on prelims, if they wow then the UFC will social media the hell out of them and then if win AGAIN they get hot and get moved up to a main card and if they catch even more smoke, the UFC starts to trumpet the guy in the same way they trumpeted everybody else. Some guys take and some guys don't. There's no absolute way to make it work. While they COULD do something different to market towards African Americans, they may just be fine with how they do things in general because the levy hasn't broken yet or at least not entirely. It's just kind of doing what it always does.

So where's all this leading? I mean I 'unno. I think we can all agree that the growth of the sport is paramount to fans, promoters, TV execs, web people etc etc etc. If there's a large community of folks who might like this madness as much as we do but they're not being drawn in for one reason or another then shit, we should all want them in. This failboat of a sport is for all!  The problem is that I just don't think there's an obvious solution. What's worked in the past for the African American audience in combat sports really can't work in MMA. They can't quite mind the gap between "I'd like to like MMA" and "I'd like to pay to watch MMA" because of SO many factors right now prohibiting it. Now of course I'd like to see more effort in promoting to other groups of people but unless they have a good plan in place to implement it, I suppose no effort and bad effort equal out to all the same. There's no Bill Watts (never thought I'd namedrop this guy on here, Jesus Christ) to come up with great ways to elevate an MMA version of the Junkyard Dog. Maybe that's not a bad thing though given Watts' reputation.

And even Daniel Cormier is quite honest about Mighty Mouse not fitting into a set group. He's a nerdy short dude who doesn't talk a lot of trash and as dynamic as he is in the cage, his personality fits for a very small niche of people like myself and probably the folks reading this. He's a niche guy and while I'm glad to be in that niche, I understand the limited appeal. In my mind, the one demo you can market Mighty Mouse to are to kids and teenagers given the fact he's not super big and does internet streaming and while this is a perfect comp, the Ray Mysterio factor of "look at this smaller guy doing cool shit!" should have some impact in MMA.

So I guess, in the end, figuring this whole thing out is truly a matter of determining the How's and Whys'.

#MMA #UFC #DC #Mighty Mouse #opinions

[funnythingshere0-blog]

3 'Funny, Strange, and Provocative' New Plays You Need to See

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3 'Funny, Strange, and Provocative' New Plays You Need to See

For lovers of adventurous new plays, Clubbed Thumb’s annual SummerWorks festival is a must-go. The six-week festival (May 19–June 30) of new plays has garnered quite the reputation for championing exciting new voices in theatre and acting as a launchpad for “weird and peculiar” works which may not get support elsewhere.

So what makes a play a “Clubbed Thumb ” play?

“I sometimes say, ‘unusual stories unusually told’,” says artistic director and co-founder Maria Striar, who started the Off Off-Broadway incubator and production company with a group of friends 23 years ago. Their mission then, still holds true today: the organization supports plays that are “funny, strange, and provocative.” “We know it when we encounter it,” says Striar.

This year is a particularly exciting year for Striar, as every show in the series has touched one of the organization’s development programs. In addition to SummerWorks, Clubbed Thumb offers year-round support to early-career and mid-career playwrights via writers’ groups, a directing fellowship, commissions of new plays, and new play workshops through SuperLab, its partnership with Playwrights Horizons. (Larissa FastHorse’s The Thanksgiving play, which was developed through this program will have its world premiere at Playwrights as part of the 2018–2019 season; Tin Cat Shoes, debuting at SummerWorks, also came out of the program).

The playwrights and directors of this season’s three SummerWorks plays tells us what makes them a bit weird, and why you should check them out this summer at its home at The Wild Project.

Tin Cat Shoes, Performances run May 19–29

Trish Harnetiaux [Playwright] My play is about… How quickly we can acclimate to outrageous circumstances. It’s funny, strange, and/or provocative because… It mirrors how real life works, which is absurd and messy and unpredictable. I’m obsessed with theatre that is… Unexpected, honest, and funny at the same time. I’m a playwright because… I was tricked. But I’m glad I was tricked because I’m not sure there is another creative process where, if you hit the jackpot with your collaborators, you are able to create both an unforgettable experience and a nice piece of literature at the same time. Other plays of mine you might know: How to Get into Buildings, Welcome to the White Room, Weren’t You in My Science Class?, and Bender and Brian (a tale of Breakfast Club fanfiction).

Knud Adams [Director] Some work of mine you might know: Torrey Townsend’s The Workshop [softFocus]; Justin Kuritzkes’ Asshole [JACK], and Eliza Bent’s Aloha, Aloha, or When I Was Queen [Abrons Arts Center]; Julia Jarcho’s Every Angel is Brutal [Clubbed Thumb]. Come see this show if you love… Clubbed Thumb. This might be the epitomic Clubbed Thumb play: It’s deeply funny, strange, and provocative. Also, come see this show if you love shoes, outings, animals, teamwork, Guys and Dolls, David Lynch, game theory, chaos theory, or nachos. When I read a new play I look for… A physiological response where I’m simultaneously stunned by its intelligence, itching to begin working on it, and sweating because it seems impossible. I’m particularly inspired by plays that capture authentic human experiences within appropriately radical forms. I’m driven to make theatre that is… Lately, I’ve been most interested in speaking truth to power—which means, as a director, excavating truth from every moment (even when those truths are uncomfortable), and as a producer, getting the work seen by the powerful. I’m a director because… I’ve always been a jack-of-all-trades. I had planned to be a writer or sculptor, but then I got lonely. I tried my hand at set design, but then I got greedy. Theatre demands all of my instincts and talents—it’s the Gesamtkunstwerk.

Wilder Gone, Performances run June 4–14

Angela Hanks [Playwright]

My play is about… Three women with three very different ambitions. It’s about desire, love, ambition, class, survival, the politics of skin tone, and real estate. Also, this play is loosely based off of my paternal great-grandmother’s life. I’m obsessed with theatre that is… I saw a production of Charles Mee’s Big Love at the Signature Theatre back in 2015. My goodness, it was glorious. I cried during the scene when the brides kill their grooms, but one, Lydia, decides not to. She had quietly fallen in love with him. The overall scene was incredibly kinetic and crazed and athletic—there was a lot going on—but my focus shifted to this particular moment because it showed a woman confronting her politics, and her desire, and her humanity, all at the same time. But the thing about it, about that particular moment, is that she was, furtively and inwardly, wrestling with these conflicts, this emotional dissonance. It was not this oversized, histrionic thing; it was hidden. Barely detectable, but somehow gigantic and raw and honest. I’m a playwright because… During the summer of 2003, I was back home in Dallas from college for summer break. I was at the intersection of North Central Expressway and Forest Lane, most likely headed to Blockbuster Video. This dude pulled up next to my mother’s Ford Escort, he indicated to me to roll down the passenger window. I did, and he said, “I got these baby clothes and a camcorder I need to sell.” I was left wondering about the combination of items he needed to sell, and why. The why was serious. His is an existence that is not usually focused on, not only in the American theatre, but in [American] society. I was drawn to that existence. And I wanted to somehow make it matter. I wrote my third full-length play, policies & procedures, based off of that interaction, the following summer. Other plays of mine you might know: Devil Music, Big Tex, and Myrna in Transit.

Margot Bordelon [Director] Some work of mine you might know: Jiréh Breon Holder’s Too Heavy for Your Pocket [Roundabout Underground]; Mara Nelson-Greenberg’s Do You Feel Anger? [42nd Annual Humana Festival at Actors Theater Louisville]. Come see this show if you love… Plays about Texas! A wildly-talented all-black cast! Stories about strong women and desire. When I read a new play I look for… A unique voice, distinctive characters, a strong sense of theatricality, and an intersectional feminist agenda. I’m driven to make theatre that is… Not auditioning to be film or television—that embraces the magic of live-ness! Work that’s earnest, and full of heart and humor, and that is an act of resistance against the values of our current administration. I’m a director because… I love being able to work on all aspects of a production. Theatre is where literature, and performance, and visual art meet. I take a kind of masochistic pleasure in working in an art form that is ephemeral.

Plano, Performances run June 20–30

Will Arbery [Playwright]

My play is about… Three sisters on a porch in Dallas, dealing with a series of hauntings which are linked to the male presences in their lives. It’s about time moving so fast you don’t have time to think. And dying while you’re still alive. And not being able to help the people you love. It’s a delight! It’s funny, strange, and/or provocative because… Funny because the characters love each other and love makes us funny. Strange because the rules are different. Provocative because it’s got, you know, rage, depression, violence, slugs, and breathlessness. I’m obsessed with theatre that is… Impossible to categorize. Funny and sad in the same breath. Idiosyncratically and inevitably structured—so when you talk about how the play is put together, you’re also talking about what the play’s about. I’m a playwright because… I have seven sisters and a lot of voices in my head. I also have a lot of Catholic shame and I think shame is one of the great theatrical antagonists. Mostly, though, I write plays because I love and fear being in the same room as something that is happening now. Other plays of mine you might know are: Evanston Salt Costs Climbing [Clubbed Thumb and Playwrights Horizons]. Otherwise, do you go see short plays at EST? Do you remember one about a man in a diaper who pops out of a trunk? Fact is, having a play in SummerWorks is a big exciting new chapter for me.

Taylor Reynolds [Director] Some work of mine you might know: Think Before You Holla Come see this show if you love… Family dramas that make you question your entire existence and the construct of time. When I read new plays I look for… The moment when a play breaks its own rules. (It’s the best!) I’m driven to make theatre that is… Engaging, challenging, and representative of intersectional identities. I’m a director because… I feel like a secret puppet master, except my puppets are sentient, super smart, and have total agency over their choices.

[appreciatedinretrospect]

Marked Men Regent Theater Review

Here’s a reading playlist that shouldn’t be hard to make. It’ll enhance the experience or give you a good introduction to each band. 

Thursday July 20th, 2017, The Marked Men headlined a show at The Regent Theatre in Downtown Los Angeles. My brother, best friend and I made it a top priority to attend. I have quite the affinity for The Marked Men and had been wanting to see them for years. Discovering them was a cathartic experience. They played a style of punk rock that I had definitely heard before but now it was perfected. It’s an assault of Dan Electros and Telecasters for wallflowers and introspective punk kids who aren’t tough guys. They just wrote better songs. I feel like the torch was silently passed to them but not everybody got the memo. So that really fucking hot night in Los Angeles was an important one. Royal Headache, Audacity and Flatworms are the openers. I’ve only heard of these bands, but I was excited to get a live introduction.

The Regent is spacious, really dark, simple and it feels like home every time I’m there. The floor is at an incline. I wonder how that’s going to go with the environment of a punk show.  We’re greeted with an intense and fast band called Flatworms. A gnarly style of punk with a hypnotic aspect like something of the krautrock persuasion. I was pretty taken back almost immediately. I suddenly had an urge to lose my mind. Typical male with unresolved anger at a punk rock show. Every song was another jolt of electricity that added to the energy of the room. There’s not a full blown pit but crowd physical crowd reaction came in waves. That’s a compelling opening band. If your band isn’t even promoted on the ticket and you’re playing with a band with a cult following, there’s not a high likelihood of making a huge impact. Flatworms seemed to be the exception to that uphill battle of a rule. Their singer was a nice dude too. We gave him a beer for a dope set and our good deed was rewarded with a free copy of their 7” Red Hot Sand. Thanks bud. I’ve listened to it several times since the show and it rips. I recommend you check it out too. My group gets closer to the stage.

Being that this was an evening of hybridity, Audacity brought a more quintessential OC garage rock feel to the Ramones tempo party we were all taking part of. Catchy songs with good melody and a sense of humor showing that you don’t take yourself that seriously is refreshing. To be geek for a second, I immediately saw the colors and logo for the first Adolescents album come from behind the drum set. Except it was a shirt that read, Rikk Agnew. (Original guitarist for the Adolescents) That alone got me invested before a note was played. Every member of this band seem to have a strong personality like cartoon characters. The music is infectious. I found myself saying “damn this is a hit” about every other song. The room has filled up a bit. The waves have gotten a little bigger. Suddenly making sure my PBR doesn’t spill is becoming a priority. Apparently whoever is standing in front of me is becoming one as well. She was beautiful human being with blonde hair and a denim jacket. All logic went out the window, so I felt compelled to talk to her. I can typically put that aside and stare at my shoes politely or drink another beer but for some reason, that didn’t seem to be an option. Every beer run we made I would attempt to be charming by offering to include her. She tolerates my feeble attempts at any interaction and the awful inside jokes about beer and Black Flag tattoos from my boys and I. We’re amusing at best.

But now it’s time for Royal Headache. I’m comfortable saying I love each band that played that night. But gun to my head, the highlight might have been discovering Royal Headache. They were a name I heard tossed around for years but I was never exposed to them. Imagine if sixties soul songs and punk rock had an affair with the resentment and partying of something like Guided By Voices and the intensity and rage of Husker Du. That to me is Royal Headache. There’s a familiarity to them. I suddenly feel like I’ve been a fan for my whole life when it’s really been twenty minutes. Shogun is the truth and I’d like to be him when I grow up please. Like a true anti frontman, he just doesn’t give a fuck about anything you think. He’ll out perform you too. On top of that, they play shameless love songs. I’m completely caught up in the moment. These themes are starting to put me under the influence. As if buzz from a bill of only good bands and a room of like minded people wasn’t enough. The blonde girl with the denim jacket is magnetic. She has an orange glow similar to Charlie Murphy’s description of Rick James. I have a spot not right next to her. All I have is to maybe say something polite, but at least that’s something I suppose. Then the pit pulled me in. Oh well, probably for the best. I accepted the pit and embraced these wallflower anthems as my punk rock missed connection soundtrack. There’s love, snot, beer, comradery and a stiff little finger all at once.

The only consolation of their set ending was the fact that I was finally going to see The Marked Men. Now is the time to take it all in. People rush for a final bathroom break or a beer run. The seas of the pit part, and there’s the blonde girl with the denim jacket. The punk rock gods have shined a light on me, so I thought. My main objective was to get to know this person as much as human possible while the hosts of this party set up. I’m not going to bore you with the details but I like her quite a bit. We seem to be hitting it off. We both said it was cool to meet someone who liked The Marked Men though we were in a room filled with people who shared that sentiment. I’m positive she’s a figment of my imagination now.

“We are The Marked Men. This song is called A Little Time.” A four count from the back of the drum set kicks into a 45 minute set that made everyone in the room forget how shitty it was outside of the Regent. That’s all it took. There wasn’t much else said in-between songs. They just plowed through the rest of their set. There’s a stoicism to their appearance. A Marked Men set requires patience, stamina and discipline in order to execute properly. It’s calculated and emotionally charged. All of the pleasure points of being a fan of the band were hit. What was probably just a strong handful of knuckleheads including my party felt like the place exploded. I’m front row presses up against the stage with my new friend.

On The Outside and Don’t Lose It back to back hit hard. I got that same inexplainable feeling of “finally” that I had when I first listened to that album. At first it was surreal, then I thought about the various experiences of the people in the room. I wondered who traveled far just to see this. Who is having this music heal their wounds? Is anyone in here a day one fan who have been waiting for this far longer than the years I have?

I decided to play roadie when the crowd adopted the mic during the last song of the night. Fix My Brain was something everyone had been waiting for apparently, myself included. That was it. There was a new energy in the room compared to the beginning of the night. An overwhelming buzz and that feeling you get on Sunday night before school the following morning. Life resumed. I bid farewell to the blonde girl with the denim jacket. I wish I would have walked her to her car. Hug and a smile. That girl knocked the wind right out of me. As did whoever rammed my rib cage into the stage earlier. Still feeling that one.

This was a good night. Not just for me but for rock n roll. I saw a lot of people fulfill what was a fantasy to them just a few months ago. That’s a cool thing to see. I hope it happens again, if it’s right. So here’s to Flatworms, Audacity, Royal Headache, The Marked Men and the blonde girl with the denim jacket.

Check out and support all of the bands here:

Flatworms 

Audacity 

Royal Headache 

Marked Men 

#marked men #audactiy #flatworms #royal headache #los angeles #regent theatre #show review #livemusic #punk rock