#1) shes weird as fuck and always grabbing bugs and shit

[musubiki]

I don't know if you have answered this already so if you have you can ignore this, but how did mochi and coco become friends? Since coco is a bit older is she from another class?

she is a bit older, but not in another class! shes one of those people in high school that either have a very early birthday so theyre always the oldest in the class, or she maybe fell behind a grade (since she had delinquent tendencies growing up)

BUT A GOOD QUESTION AND I DONT THINK I EXPANDED ON IT BEFORE MAYBE??? its somewhat skipped over in that webtoon chapter.... first ill talk about a little coco backstory that leads up to it:

essentially, growing up coco was the lazy, troublemaker, didnt-take-school-seriously kind of student that always had bad grades and skipped class. her parents obviously werent thrilled about that, but they were never really hard on her about it and had a good relationship with coco!! at one point (when she was about 12-13 maybe), they had quite a light-hearted and humorous talk with her about getting herself together before high school, and made a little list of things for her to do to have a good life ("a better life than we did," is how they put it).

the things on the list were rather mundane and normal, sometimes kinda dumb. it was things like "study hard 8 hours a week," "learn to cook," "exercise regularly," etc. it also has rather strange ones, one being "change someones life," which coco spent a lot of time trying to figure out what that one was supposed to mean. at the time she treated it lightly and as a joke, and more of a chore like "ah damn i gotta exercise now?? ill do this stuff later"

anyway, when coco was 14, both her parents and her little brother passed, and coco to this day holds on to that list and tries to fulfill every item (which is why she does the things she does, including running every morning, working hard on studies to go to college, getting a part-time job, etc).

NOW how this relates to mochi: one of the items on cocos list is "make friends with good people." when coco first moved to wessport and started school there, obviously she was new and didnt know anyone. the week she started was (if you remember the beginning of that one webtoon episode!!) a week where lime was fighting off a cold or something, so he didnt come to school and mochi was by herself.

their meeting was actually pretty mundane, but coco was lost in the school and asked mochi for directions to various classrooms and such. mochi was very nice to her (as mochi normally is), like she lent her a pencil and piece of paper cuz coco didnt buy any yet, things like that.

at the end of the school day coco just looks at her for a long time and goes "...hey, so you're a 'good person,' then...right?" and mochi just goes "Uh....I guess I try to be?" and for that week coco seeks out mochi to hang out with her. by the time lime gets back theyre already friends and coco lowkey adopted mochi ehehe (and then that one coco intro episode is where this mini story picks up)

#mochis happy to have a gal friend #no other gal is her friend for 1 of 4 reasons #1) shes weird as fuck and always grabbing bugs and shit #2) shes close to lime and therefore a rival #3) that thing where you dont know the person but you know a lot of people dont like them so you dont really try to find out for yourself #4) mochi is under the mob character spell so they forget she exists if they dont talk to her regularly #so when coco shows up mochi is happy #lore #text #bpp #I LOVE THIS FRIENDSHIP THOUGH!!!!!!!!!!!!! gal time....

[cairavende]

Worm Arc 11 thoughts (pre-interludes):

Taylor's dad sees his daughter for the first time since she ran away. Since the fucking Endbringer attack! And literally says the line "“I need to go handle this" about a fucking work thing. No Danny. You do not NEED TO HANDLE THIS. God damn. It is fucking hard to be a co-parent for Taylor when I'm the only one doing any parenting!

Speaking of parenting - Taylor, you really should get some therapy. That was a pretty detailed level of fucked up nightmare you had. I love you and just want you to take care of yourself.

Skitter just like "all right, for day 1 I'm going to gain complete fucking control over my territory and establish myself as an unkillable bug goddess". And then she worries if she is doing enough!

Seriously though, letting that guy stab her and counting on her costume to block the knife? Fucking baller move. Also stupidly risky. So pretty much on point for my wonderful but stress inducing bug daughter.

And then she just sits in her chair drinking tea while she destroys two groups of Merchants? Doesn't just beat them, but absolutely terrorizes them. Lights one of them on fire with their own matches! WITH BUGS! I love her so much.

She also gained two minions as a side bonus to controlling her territory. And ensured their loyalty and dedication to her.

For real. Sierra would take a bullet. She'd die for Taylor. But Charlotte? Charlotte would kill for Taylor.

The speech Taylor gave Charlotte when giving her the options "leave town" or "work for me" was so well done! Came across as incredibly fair so Charlotte couldn't complain, but also just tied her in a little bundle all nice and neat. Set her up to want to work for you. Very nicely done. Taylor clearly has been learning from Lisa.

We're just pretty much giving up on that whole secret identity thing huh? It just started cascading out of control quite quickly. I don't expect Taylor and Skitter to be different people for much longer.

Lisa and Taylor went to a party together! A shitty villain party that was dangerous and almost killed them. But villain prom is villain prom. GAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!

Just a number of good Chatterbug (Smugbug) moments here.

Lisa has a MURDER WALL! AAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! I love her so fucking much and I will just sit in there with her working on the murder wall for hours. (She isn't trying to solve a murder so I know it isn't technically a murder wall, but it's a murder wall cause that's the best name.)

Fucking Bryce. Sure went through a lot of trouble for that asshole.

Skidmark just doing a thunderdome up in here. Some people use their powers for cool things and others build a fence.

Also really not seeming to do great for loyalty. Like ya you get a cape or two out of it but it left everyone in your gang not trusting anyone else.

I love everyone in Faultline's crew. Newter was my favorite but Shamrock may have beaten him out. I always loved Domino and Shamrock gives the same vibe.

Newter got a few good Nightcrawler like moments here too which was fun (grabbing things with his tail, talking to people from weird perches).

God DAMN Labyrinth is powerful. Like I knew she was but getting to see it. Holy shit. That was so fucking cool. Literal goddess of reality right here.

I'm really excited to learn more about Cauldron and the superhero in a can stuff. Very Weapon X with the memory wiping and such. (I'm just really on an X-men comparison thought process right now I guess)

Taylor "I'm not a skilled combatant" Hebert over here as she dual wields knives and successfully fights off multiple people, most bigger than her, while specifically using non-lethal attacks on them. Taylor that isn't what "not skilled" means!

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD CHILD, STOP GETTING HIT IN THE HEAD! I WORRY!

Seeing the trigger event thing was really cool. I don't think the fact that any cape near a trigger event appears to almost pass out has been mentioned before. Obviously in universe know one would know anything beyond them appearing to stumble, but still. And we got to see more of the higher dimension beings. We in Flatland now.

Oh god there is so much more I think I'm missing huge amounts. AHHH!!!

Oh, this is important. While describing Mush Taylor says "He bore a resemblance to a particular pink skinned, scrawny goblin of a creature from those fantasy movies." That open endedness of that context made me decide she must be talking about The Goblin King in Labyrinth. David Bowie. But to keep things simple, since it might seem like she is talking about Gollum, I decided that on Earth Bet David Bowie played Gollum in the Lord of the Rings movies. This is canon as far as I am concerned.

That does also mean Mush looks at least a little bit like David Bowie.

#Worm #Worm Web Serial #Parahumans #Cairavende reads Worm #Chatterbug #Smugbug #Taylor Hebert #MURDERWALL!!! #Lisa Wilbourn #My daughter is so terrifying and she absolutely does not realize how much #The feelings Taylor had when she realized how terrifyingly powerful Labyrinth was is the same feeling everyone else has around Taylor #She literally is one step away from turning any moment into a horror movie. I love her so much.

[fairyellieee]

Dating Eddie Munson Headcannons

(credit to @vigilanteshit for the gif)

Is the type of boyfriend who (lovingly) bullies/teases you for something that you like. For example, your music taste, your fave foods, your fave artists etc.

He's very clingy because he was never really coddled when he was a kid.

Makes you a mixtape with his favourite artists because he has to "educate" and "influence" you on your "horrible" music taste.

You're the only one who's allowed to sit on his hellfire throne which makes the kids a lil pouty.

Will flirt with you during hellfire.

He counts teasing you as some sort of major flirting. He will literally think that you'd fall for him because of his teasing and immaculate humour.

Sometimes he's so annoying that you don't know if you like him or you'd like to punch his throat.

"I swear to God Robin he is so fucking annoying. He's literally getting into my nerves but- he's also hot as fuck and- he's so adorable when he does this face." You kept on ranting to your best friend Robin whilst she just listens and started smiling a lil bit from your realization.

"You are in deep shit, my friend. You are in loveeeee." She teased and that's when you knew, she was right.

"Shit."

You will always try to bother him and annoy him. You will take every opportunity that you have to annoy the hell out of him.

"Shut up Y/n." Eddie said trying to focus on his D&D campaign.

"What? I'm not doing anything." You said "innocently" but you clearly knew what you were doing.

"You're annoying me, shut up." He said again as a warning but you still kept bothering him. More specifically playing with his hair.

"But- you're so adorable when you're cranky Eds." Pouting, you go back to playing with his hair when he suddenly stopped and grabbed your hands.

"Shut up and stop that. Not in a rude way but in a gentle way 'cus I am this close to tying you up and duct taping your mouth." He said as he gestured at you and making this thing 🤏 (idk how to describe it)

"Your fingers are so close together Eds. I'm pretty sure you're royally pissed and who knew that the freak of Hawkins has some super kinky non-con dream of his..." You kept talking and talking and teasing him until he just sighed and went back to what he was doing.

As his lover, you will always be at the hideout and watch him play with his band. Always at the front, always shouting, and always supporting him no matter what.

You're his #1 fan.

You can be a little overprotective of him, especially with his reputation and stuff but you can't help it that you love him too much to just let his bullies get away with anything.

Babysitting the kids with him is pure chaos.

"Eddie! Stop letting Dustin eat all the cookie dough or I swear to god! You will not eat anymore cookies for a year, Munson!" You were trying to bake cookies at your house for the kids but the dough kept getting smaller and smaller because Dustin is sneaking a bite everytime you turn your back and Eddie is letting it happen.

"Lucas! Get down from the sink! Erica! Stop bugging Max about your brother! El! Just be a good girl like you always are, love you hunny. Everyone! Be like El for pete's sake!"

"Who's Pete?"

-10/10 would not recommend babysitting with Eddie ever again.

Will always do these weird noises when he's bored and he can't bother you.

Will 100% keep poking you when you're focused on studying or smh.

He's the best cuddle buddy out there! Literally so soft and cuddly at night.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie my beloved #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things #x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x female character #fluff #stranger things headcannons #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson hc

[readysteddiewoe]

Part two of Spider-Steve (read part 1 <<here)

Eddie Munson's first Spider-man encounter happens one cold December evening when he steps out the service door at hideout for a smoke. A blur of red and blue falls like a sack of stones, seemingly out of nowhere, into the overflowing dumpster. Eddie lets out a frankly embarrassing shriek at the noise, hackles raised, he approaches the dumpster in barely restrained panic looking for any sign of life. Lo and behold, fucking Spider-man is lying in the trash.

"Shit, dude, you okay?" he asks. The vigilante groans as he sits up in the squelching mess.

"I'm fine, I'm okay," Spider-man waves an arm, sounding breathless and hoarse as he stumbles out of the dumpster, nearly face planting in the process.

Eddie grabs him by his shoulders to steady him, meeting those weirdly expressive eye lenses on his mask. They widen a little and then Spider-Man is scrambling away from him, raising a hand to his head like he’s trying to run his fingers through his hair before realizing he can’t.

“Just— long day, y’know,” Eddie can’t really say he knows what a long day of vigilante-ing would involve but he nods along anyways, a little thrown by the whole interaction. "I'll get out of your hair now," says Spider-man with an awkward two-finger salute and then he starts limping out of the alleyway a hand clutching his side.

Eddie pictures Spider-man limping home, all alone on streets of Queens, it feels kinda pathetic. "Hey man, you sure you don't need any help?" He jogs up beside the masked man. "No offence, but you don't exactly look okay," In fact, he looks sorta beat to shit, Eddie realizes now that they’re standing closer to the street lamps. “I can give you a ride if you want,” Spider-man turns to look at him, his weird eye lenses blink once.

The car ride is awkward as hell. Spider-dude is sitting ramrod straight in the passenger seat, preternaturally still, stinking of garbage. Well, his van was long overdue a deep clean anyways.

He looks ridiculous with his hands folded on his lap and the seat belt over his suit. Metallica plays in the background, volume turned down so low Eddie can only hear it when he stops at a red light.

"So," Eddie starts, "My name is Eddie," he turns to look at Spider-man expectantly.

“Spider-Man,” he says, then chuckles at the face Eddie makes. "It kinda defeats the purpose of a secret identity if I gave you my real name,"

"Can I give you a nickname then?"

"Maybe?” The eye lenses narrow at him.

"Spider-boy? Arachnoid-dude?"

"Aren’t nicknames supposed to be shorter?"

Eddie snaps his fingers "Bug boy!"

"Absolutely not—"

"I got it, I got it," Eddie paused for dramatic effect, "Spidey,"

"I guess I can live with that," Spidey says with a put upon sigh and Eddie grins.

He drops him off near a takeout place, blowing Spidey a dramatic kiss before driving away. “Good night Spidey, get well soon!”

In the rear view mirror, Eddie sees him watching until his van disappears from view.

---

"Guess who I saw today?" Steve later asks Robin, lying on her bed with a bag of frozen peas over his ankle, cramming a spring roll in his mouth.

"Was it Lady Gaga? If it wasn't Lady Gaga then I don't really care," she flops down beside him, queuing up a movie on her laptop.

"Eddie Munson. And he was being nice, Robbie,”

“He’s always nice, I don’t get your point,”

“Not to me, he’s not,” Steve frowns. Robin isn’t the first person to insist how cool of a dude Eddie Munson is. Though Steve only ever sees contradicting evidence; until today that is.

"Hate to break it to you Steve, but I also kind of hated you when I only knew you from your mean girl era in high school," Huh. Touché.

Steve spends most of the movie half distracted and trying to fend off sleep. Robin’s phone pings halfway in and she snatches it up, holding it close to her face and smiling at the text. Which was new. Interesting.

“Who’s that?”

“No one,”

“Fine,” Steve yawns, “Don’t tell me,”

———

Part III

#steddie #steddie au #spider man steve harrington #spidey!steve #eddie munson #steve harrington #mine

[apricusnights]

Stories from the past #1.

Time: Several years after the end of the great war.

Location: Approaching an uninhabited island comprised of a dense jungle.

Cue the music.

"Seems like we always get the short end of the stick. All this shit seems way too familiar to a few of us. Not that long ago we were sent to another one of these islands and had a throwdown with somethin we ain't ever seen before."

"We got some newbies this time, in fact most of em are save for Captain Narvox, Octavius, Foxx, and myself. Gotta admit it's a little odd bein around some of the new gens as they call em. Some of em still wear the heavy armor but that's bein phased out."

"We're back out in the Faititili Sea somewhere. Easy to tell by the thunderstorms and how damn muggy it is. Least our ship is better quality these days. We're about to hit the beach and drop the ramp."

"Captain Narvox told us that we're here looking for any members of what he only referred to as a "splinter group". Sometimes I wonder just how old Captain Narvox really is, might be Gen one. He's seen his fair share of shit."

"We located what looks like a temporary settlement of some sort, there's a wrecked ship that Foxx and a few of the newbies went to check out."

"Foxx came back with a weird lookin crate, looked like it's been in the ocean for a while. Seems like the wrecked ship is just a salvage vessel that had some bad luck. No trace of the crew though. We're loaded the crate into out ship to take back to HQ. Doesn't seem related to the mission but the Bureau brainiacs are always lookin for weird bullshit to study."

"We're followin some trails into the jungle that lead out of the settlement. Captain said it's our best bet. It's either that or try to carve our own path through and that's a shitty plan."

"Fuckin hot as hell and bugs the size of your head out here. Not too mention the thunderstorms that just do not ever stop. This island chain is a sin against creation and we're right in the middle of one."

"Lettin the big boys clear the way a bit, we're still on a trail but it's gettin overgrown. Doesn't look like anyone has been down here in quite some time."

"I can't even fuckin describe what we just stepped into. There's discarded armor everywhere, looks like two different groups had themselves a hell of a party. Some of this shit if old school, we're talkin Gen one stuff just repainted. Weird thing is, only a few pieces have marks that would have come from a firefight."

"Stumbled across another settlement. Nobody around but there's plenty of banners. Captain seems to know what some of them mean. He mentioned "the sisters" as one of them but didn't elaborate further. Still no signs of anyone."

"Think we figured out why there's nobody here. We followed the trail to a small beach that looks like it was used as an evac point. Whatever the fuck happened cause everyone to drop their arguments and get the fuck out of here in a hurry."

"We made camp, was gettin late and there's no point trying to make it back to our ship in this piece of shit jungle, in the dark, AND the fuckin storm."

"Some of the newbies keep sayin they see some shit movin around in the jungle. no fuckin shit, it's a jungle. There's animals. I swear they are being paranoid, we got patrols goin. I'm goin to sleep."

"Captain woke us up..patrol never checked back. Foxx wants to go lookin for em, says she's got a bad feeling. Usually when she's got a bad feeling she's right. Every so often when the lightning flashes I swear I see something lookin at us from the jungle. Startin to wonder just what kind of animals are out here."

"Well that went to hell in a handbasket. We got swarmed by fuckin..I don't know. A few of the newbies got picked off. Foxx lost an arm. We're firing every which way but these things are fast and have about a thousand advantages over us. Felt like a goddamn horror movie."

"We're rushin through the jungle, saw someone get pulled off the trail right in front of me. Went to grab him but whatever got him was way too strong."

"Captain Narvox managed to take down a few of em, closest look I got at one made me think it was some kind of bug. Oct, and Foxx have taken some damage, thought I was a goner but the Captain saved me and bashed one of those fuckers into a tree with his bare hands."

"Foxx had radioed the ship and told em to get ready to go. Imagine the look on their faces as Oct comes out of the jungle carrying Foxx, I'm right behind em, the three newbies left are being guarded by Captain Narvox and there's a bunch of shit gettin ready to run out of the jungle after us."

"Made it on board..whatever those things were wouldn't leave the jungle. Seemed almost like somethin called em back. We're gettin patched up. Foxx will be fine but she's pissed about losing her good arm. I'm sure the boys in the lab can give her some fancy mechanical replacement."

"Corporal Orion, signing off."

#story scene #flashback quote

[dzpenumbra]

3/6/23

Today was one of those days that felt like I didn't accomplish much, but I actually got a lot done. It's pretty crazy how much more I can get done when I'm not spending like 3-8 hours of my day being yelled at and having my life put under a magnifying glass and scrutinized.

I have been doing flexibility yoga the past few days, the same video. I like it, but it's... frustrating. There's one part where I have to do half-stirrups which are really... one of the things I feel like I should be doing the most to help my lower back and hips... but... I'm really struggling with them. Not because of flexibility... per se... like my hip can actually bend that way surprisingly... but because of arm strength. It kinda gives me the vibe that I'm doing something wrong and I'm not noticing.

I feel like I'm tensing and pushing with muscles that I'm not consciously pushing. Like... I'm lying down, my leg is up, I'm grabbing my foot and easing my knee in, gravity is working with me, and somehow it feels like my leg is actively pushing back without me consciously trying. It wears my arm out in seconds. It sucks, because I can't even get in a good position to stretch because of it. This has been bugging me for like 4 days now. I'm hoping one of these days I just notice what I'm doing and where and let go of it and it just suddenly becomes easier.

What I have noticed... is that my lower back is feeling really weird. Like... achy, like my shoulders do sometimes. And I think that's kinda... because I'm using it more. It feels more flexible and active than it was before. So I guess that's a good sign, not a bad one.

I made a big breakfast, which was nice. Eggs, sausage, maple habanero hot sauce, hash browns. I finished the mala! I made a really nice tassel for it, much better than the first one I made. Like... much better. And I soaked it in this bamboo/teak essential oil I really like. This thing is pretty fuckin badass.

I ordered groceries, there were a few minor substitutions but it went pretty well. The guy was very communicative while he was shopping. This was my first grocery delivery with no car. And... prices somehow went up even further than last time. I swear, I really didn't buy anything too excessive. I barely even bought meat, for real. And the price ended up being like... 50 bucks more than last visit... before delivery tip. I have to remember 1) inflation, prices are rising universally, and 2) the delivery fees are the tradeoff for not having a car, and in the end it's saving me money.

I cooked dinner, leftover chicken strips from last night's delivery and jalapeno cheddar rice. It was good, topped it off with a chocolate milkshake because... apparently I do that now... Winter I go hard on the sweets and comfort food, summer I tend to go full-hippie diet.

I ended up streaming tonight. And I announced it in the discord this time. And the highschool kid immediately showed up. And the mid-50's backseater for like 5 minutes. Both asked me where the fuck I've been, fun to explain myself... I played Session a bunch, which was fun. Then switched over to Noita with the Twitch Integration to test it out. The kid literally fell asleep halfway through a run.

Streaming with 2 viewers is fucking brutal. I have been doing this for way too fucking long, I just... I don't know how to meet new people. It never translates over to good things. For real! I've tried joining other Discord groups, I'm always just the new guy. And life just throws me too many curveballs for me to become a regular anywhere, I guess. I don't know. I had some streaming friends for a bit, off and on. But... it never seemed to be equally reciprocal. Like this one chick I hung out with in her stream a lot, but she like... never came by my stream, even though I played games she would like. Two streamers like that, actually. That was kinda... always the case, wasn't it? XD Shit. That just kept happening.

That guy I wrote about like a week ago, I called him "A", he never came by my stream. The chick above, the older chick from the South I met through her who I used to play games with on her stream, the stand-up comedian I used to mod for, all the streamers whose chat I was a regular in that I would raid into. I sank months of my life into becoming a regular in all of their streams, and... they barely came by my streams at all. The comedian didn't even acknowledge that I streamed at all, never even entertained the thought of dropping by, I guarantee it. My insecure brain says "maybe you're just bad at this". My bitter brain says "what crappy friends". My depressed brain says "is this ever going to change?" and "what's the point of trying again?"

So... do you sit at the bottom of the list for Session, playing a skateboarding simulator for 2 viewers where people would have to scroll all the way down to the bottom of the listings and happen to pick yours. Do you fire up Rimworld and... do the same thing? Do you try to connect with people another way? How? Where? What do you even say? I mean... I've been saying for a long-ass time now... I'm stumped on this. What I need is so fucking clear to me, and I know for a fact I can't do it. It's the one thing I don't have. I need... ready for it? The power of FRIENDSHIP!

Say you want to throw a party. And you're a shut-in who lost all their shitty self-absorbed friends. Where do you even start? Well, step one - unlock your door. Step two - clean up a bit. Step three - ??? Step four - entertain your many guests. Welp, I've got steps 1, 2 and 4 pretty well locked down. I think. So I've reflected on the social interactions I've had in the past, how did we get people to come to parties in highschool? How did skating companies get exposure? Shit like that. You get people to tell their friends. You get people really excited and you encourage them to bring a friend.

So... is the problem here that... my viewers don't have friends? Because I think that might be the case. Like, this highschooler kid just stumbled into my Space Engineers stream like 2 christmases ago and hasn't left since, I have no idea why, he doesn't seem to have much in common with me, he doesn't really know or like any of the games I'm into. But he chats with me. And he's like... the only one. And he knows it too, and he kinda... flexed it a bit today. And that hurt. So I'm guessing he doesn't have 2 friends he could invite to come chill in my stream next time.

My primary reason for connecting with an audience... is to connect with people who are actually interested in what I'm doing. It's really upsetting to stream to people who aren't invested in your stream, then go over and be a viewer for a stream where hundreds of people are invested.

The big hang-up I'm having was telling this kid what new art mediums I'm working in, and explaining that I got into bone carving, and he freaked out about it. And... it made me actually second guess whether working on a bone carving on Twitch would be... allowed? Please tell me that's fucking stupid and paranoid. I HATE WORRYING ABOUT SHIT LIKE THIS. It's seriously the biggest poison for creativity, to worry about whether your art will fucking offend your corporate overlords who are gracing you with a platform to share your work while they make money off of you. I mean that from the bottom of my heart, I have been making art for a long time, and writing and making music. I have never in my life felt nearly as unsafe to express myself as I do right now. Either in narrative, in media, even in like... what media I'm consuming as I'm creating, which is a big part of my process. For fuck's sake, you try going and doing tedious detailed artwork for 4 hours listening to generic looping copyright free elevator music. I would not be remotely surprised if that's a torture method used in a remote US intelligence detention facility.

Can you tell I'm upset?

Seriously, my next art project after this stone is to carve the goat skull. And I'm second guessing streaming it because a teenager typed "bone?!?!" into my chat. For real. I could use some fucking confidence, man. I could really really use someone in my court who goes, "yo, that would be sick, there's like... no one else on Twitch working in that medium." Side note - really fucking weird how people don't bat an eye when you work in leather or fur, or cook meat, but if you carve a bone, they get weird? ... What? XD

Shit. Maybe... maybe that's what I need. Maybe I need to not just blindly stream on Twitch and pray people drop by. Maybe I need to join some kind of artist community. A group of some kind. I don't even know where to start with that. But then... I could see if other people there stream, go visit them in their streams, see if they'll come visit mine, cross-pollenate, shit like that. Kindred spirits. It's a thought. I can look into it tomorrow.

I've got a bunch of stuff I still need to figure out. Like... what kind of stuff can I play in the background when I'm doing art stuff without getting slapped by Twitch bots. Ugh. Tired just hit really hard. I don't want to be doing this. I've been doing this brainstorming shit for years.

It hits me like a ton of bricks sometimes. It's like... it's like I'm actually a crappy artist, a crappy streamer, and no one will just sit me down and tell me. No one will show me where I'm fucking up. They just tell me to quit. It wasn't in the cards for me.

Big depression attack. On my first stream back with viewers. Figure that one out.

Before this, I started googling work-from-home gig jobs. I pulled up a site that offered gigs for like... voice acting and writing and stuff like that. Even a $20-50 gig there is money I didn't have, and builds a resume. It's something.

I don't know why I'm so frantically focused on this. Like there's a hammer ready to drop right around the corner and I'm preparing for it. I already paid rent this month. I just... I don't feel like anyone really wants me to be the person I want to be. I mean that sentence exactly as I wrote it, and I somehow feel like it doesn't make enough sense. I feel like others look at the person I want to be - a fine artist who streams from their studio, who also plays games in the evenings, maybe makes youtube videos and music as well, and maybe does voice acting or other gigs too - and they don't want that person in society. Or... they do, but they don't want it to be me. They, in this case, being literally every other human being except for me. And it's really hard to feel... confident... and want to go out and be part of the world when it really often feels like the world doesn't want you. When the world would be overjoyed if you destroyed your ambitions, sidelined your plans, turned them into occasional hobbies for self-indulgence, and focused on integrating into the society we already have by molding yourself into the available slots.

My compromise is to fuck around and do things I think are fun, that I can do in my free time, but also make money too. But voice acting gigs and shit... I'm probably going to have to get some unpaid gigs to build a reel before I can start charging. Idk how it works. Another idea, I was thinking I could go post something on one of the bulletin boards in my building for like... tarot readings... or stuff like that. There are a lot of college kids around, who knows. Maybe they'd be into it. It'd also be a good excuse to really amp up the theatrics in my home, add more cool shit to it. Because it's not really... "tarot den" right now, it's more... "refugee resettlement". But again, it's starting to look more like a home, to be fair.

Good lord. Look at how much I wrote about my big accomplishment of finishing my really exciting project, and how much I wrote about me being a fucking failure. Good god. Sensing a problem? XD Depression is hitting hard today.

Stream wasn't bad, it was just... it set off memories. Lots of long silent nights. Lots of nights alone with this teenager dude, just the two of us. Lots of shitty highlights from the past few years of streaming being... my main thing. And how all of that time has amounted to me, right now... basically starting over for like the 10th time. Because I can't be consistent, or have a social media presence. Because of mental health and an incredibly dysfunctional social life. Because I have PTSD and had shitty friends/family/exes, I feel doomed at the work I'm perfectly built for. Because this career was built around the premises of social media - the popular get more popular, the unpopular scream into the void.

God, I keep going back to it, like a moth to a flame.

Okay, vibe reset before bed. So... I was tempted to do a photoshoot of this mala and put it on Instagram. I think I should, and I think I should with all of my jewelry I've made. It just... it never really... does anything. And I get sucked into scrolling every time I'm on there and then hours of my day just melt away. It's so dangerous for me. Not as bad as Reddit, but it's pretty bad. I really should do that tomorrow. Put a post on Instagram of my most recent one, at a decent hour when people will be on Instagram, so like... mid-afternoon, I guess? Tell the story behind the piece. Then I can gauge whether it's worth doing a post about my bracelet and my necklace.

Vibe reset! Come on! It's just work-work-work tonight. So the mala came out way better than I expected, the tassel, I mean. I found a technique for wrapping and tying off the tassel that was much better than the last one I tried, and waxing the hell out of the wrapping string made it look... legitimately professional, especially with a ring at the top that I made from a paperclip. I mean... it looks legit. I really can't stress how proud I am of this piece. And I think I can do other pieces very similar to it pretty easily. That style is very second nature to me. That organic cellular marbling design work. I keep looking over at it, it's just... so good. It kinda has... Sith vibes, in its design. Which is striking. I used Posca pens for it, and the red looked much drier and lighter before the mod podge, the mod podge darkened the hell out of it and it made it so much better, so much richer. :) So happy with it!

Oh, and I landed a bunch of tricks in Session that I had never even tried before, like BS flip down a stair set and kickflip nose manual to a drop. Lots of cool shit. I'm going to cut my thought-train off there before I venture back into frustrated vibes territory. XD

No clue what tomorrow is bringing, maybe stone polishing? Maybe starting the skull? Probably stone. We'll see. I'll try to set some goals before bed.

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of consciousness #stream of thoughts

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Into The Unknown, Part 1

... I have no self-control do not perceive me

Marinette stared at the pile of bright red, yellow, and green clothes on the ground. It was all she’d done in the five-ish minutes since she’d portaled onto the scene. Just… stared.

It wasn’t like there was much else to do, anyways. Red Robin was currently beating the absolute fuck out of the person that had the audacity to disintegrate his brother right in front of him. It wasn’t like she could even fix it because the witch had been out cold before she had been able to pull Red Robin off to get a hit in so she could use her lucky charm.

So, she stared.

It was weird. She could almost feel a person inside the clothes but… maybe that was the residue or the ashes or whatever gets left behind when you zap a person out of existence? She didn’t really want to check, to be honest. Gross.

Eventually, though, she hesitantly leaned down and brushed her hand over it, trying to find the energy and get rid of it because it was really uncomfortable --.

… oh hell no that pile of clothes did not just fucking giggle at her.

She narrowed her eyes and carefully lifted up the bottom of the shirt, only to yelp and fall back. She scrabbled on the gross Gotham alley ground until her back hit Red Robin’s arm and he was forced to pause or risk hitting a meta (which would not have been good for his health).

“What?” He hissed.

She swallowed thickly. “That’s a child.”

“... what?” Red asked, all the anger bleeding from his tone in his confusion.

“We let Batman’s kid turn into a baby,” she whispered… then, it sunk in more. “We let Batman’s kid turn into a baby.”

He straightened on top of the thing that was really more bloody pulp than person at this point. “What do you mean ‘we let Batman’s kid turn into a baby’?”

But she didn’t really get a chance to answer because the baby chose that exact moment to be sick of being suffocated under all the armor and pushed it off.

Red Robin gulped. Because, yep, that was Robin as a baby. Batman was going to kill them.

Except he wasn’t going to kill them. Because Batman doesn't kill. No, Batman would find something even worse and that would suck.

The baby -- Robin? Should she still call him that mentally? -- giggled at their pain. Like an asshole.

They were so fucked.

~

He’d let B’s favorite kid get turned into a baby. Was there a way to get unadopted? Because if there was it was totally going to happen. Or maybe his dad would just cut him off because he was 19 now and could just get kicked out.

No. Nope! Not going to happen. No. He could fix this.

“Okay. Okay okay okay. We need a plan,” he heard himself saying.

Ladybug scoffed. “We? I was barely even here, this is on you.”

“Leave me alone to deal with this and I swear to god I will tell B that you did it.”

She paled. “You wouldn’t. No way.”

“Yes way. So, help me think of something.”

The baby giggled and started crawling over and both of them averted their eyes because, unfortunately, the child did not get baby clothes to go with his random transformation. Baby Damian didn't seem to care as he reached them and started climbing on Ladybug since she was closest. At least it wasn’t him. He did not want to see his adoptive brother’s… ew.

Ladybug made a gagging sound and then quickly summoned a lucky charm. She kept her face turned away as much as her neck would physically allow as she fumbled her way through swaddling the child in a polka-dotted blanket.

And then her shoulders slumped a little. “Great. Great. This is… great,” she muttered, picking up the bundle o’ baby.

He let himself look down now that it was safe.

“Alright, we need to go to another dimension where time moves faster,” Ladybug said after a few seconds. “And then we wait for him to age… fifteen-ish years. Best way to not make Batman notice.”

“... what about us? We also age.”

“Huh…? Oh. Right. You’re human.” She pulled off the glasses she was wearing and blinked a few times before handing it over. “Congrats on your upgrade. The tiny horse god is named Kaalki. She likes cake.”

“The tiny --?” He let out the world’s manliest screech as his eyes landed on the floating bug horse hybrid thing holy shit no no no no no the sci fi movies didn’t prepare him for this shit.

Kaalki looked a little offended but then her eyes landed on the baby and she gasped. “Aw, baby humans are always so cute.”

“Great, Kaalki, you take it,” said Ladybug.

Kaalki did try, to her credit. It just so happened that the approximately one-year-old baby was a lot bigger than the… whatever she was. Tim was refusing to believe that this was a god. Too many implications. He already had something to have a breakdown over, he didn’t need another thing right now, thank you very much.

Tim rested his head in his hands but he had more things to worry about than the blood that he was accidentally streaking through his hair.

“Okay. Okay. We can go to another dimension and try and raise him. Maybe we can make it have a ratio of one month here for every year there so any differences could be blamed on that.”

“Ya!” Said baby Damian. He probably didn’t actually know what was going on but he sure seemed excited so that was cool.

Ladybug sighed and nodded. “Great. You get food and money and clothes and I’ll take this lady to the cops… and I guess I’ll watch the kid until you get back because your dad cannot know.”

They shook on it.

~

This may be the dumbest idea that she’d ever had, and that was saying something. She didn’t know if she could trust Red Robin on this one, they hardly ever worked together. What if he just left her alone with this kid and let her try and figure this out on her own?

No. He wouldn’t do that. He was the last person known to be with Robin. Robin going missing would be bad for him, too. And, besides, she was pretty sure that he was a duty-driven person based on what she’d heard, she just had to hope that he saw this as his duty, too.

She turned the baby in her arms to get more comfortable as she waited for him to (hopefully) come back.

Part of her wanted to try and find someone from this world to reverse this but she didn’t know any outside of her, Adrien, Alix, and (now) Red Robin. Not on a personal level. Not enough that she knew for sure that they wouldn’t blab to Batman about it.

So, no, this is what she was doing.

But she had things to do. So, she pulled out her yoyo-phone-hybrid-thingy and wedged it against her ear.

“Chaton,” she said the moment he picked up. “You’re alone, right?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“Great. I, Ladybug, relinquish the Miracle Box and name Chat Noir the new guardian.”

“WHAT --?!” He didn’t get to finish as a box dropped on his lap and knocked the wind out of him.

“Just for, like, a year and a half. Sorry. Bye!”

“DON’T JUST ‘BYE’ ME WHAT THE --?!”

She hung up and closed the yoyo, hooking it back to her belt and ignoring it when it started buzzing again.

She looked down at Robin, who was squinting up at her. She returned the squint. Why was this baby so quiet? She didn’t get it. Surely, he should have been crying at this point.

“Do you still… remember things?” She asked, hoping against all hope that maybe he had retained his memories at the very least.

Robin smiled at her, but it was the blank-eyed baby smile that meant he wasn’t really understanding her. She bit down a curse.

Great. So, she’d not only gotten a baby but she’d gotten a fucking weird one. Great.

~

Tim left a note for his family saying that he, Damian, and Ladybug were bored and were going dimension hopping. His family would probably be suspicious but, hey, at least it wouldn’t be his problem for a good fifteen years on his end.

And, yeah, he knew this was probably one of his dumber plans but… it wasn’t the dumbest. And he was always one to commit when it came down to it. One time he had faked being shot and dealt with crutches for an entire year just to convince Vicki Vale that he wasn’t Red Robin. He had no fears that he couldn’t see this through.

Ladybug, though? A total mystery. She did nearly everything on a whim as far as he knew. She hopped from city to city fighting crime for absolutely no reason outside of boredom and made up all of her plans on the fly. No, he was a bit concerned about her ability to keep doing it.

So, he went as quickly as he possibly could. There was no rhyme or reason to what he was grabbing. He was just… putting stuff in there. There was money and three watches to help them move between dimensions, yes, but there was also a fanta orange and a copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy and exactly seven pairs of socks.

… yeah, he had the necessities. Probably.

He nearly got out the door before he realized he was still in his crime-fighting gear and he quickly shucked it all off and tossed it into the tub so the blood wouldn’t track any more than it already had. He did not need to avoid Batman’s wrath only to end up on the receiving end of Alfred’s.

He pulled on the first hoodie and jeans he could grab and looked around to make sure he hadn’t left anything of importance.

Okay. Now he was ready to go.

~

Marinette was awkwardly bouncing the baby when Red Robin finally showed up.

… not that she would have recognized him if she hadn’t felt Kaalki hovering in his pocket. In her eyes, he was just a random white guy wearing shades in the middle of the night.

She glanced up at him and gave him an awkward smile.

“Ready?”

He smiled back and held out two watches. Neither fit baby Robin so she prepared herself to choke out a literal baby holy fuck what even was her life.

“Which dimension should we go to?”

“Preferably one without miraculi,” Marinette said. “I don’t want to know what happens if there’s two of the same god in a dimension.”

He nodded slowly. “Probably best if Batman doesn’t exist, either, he’d probably notice my existence.”

“... so… no heroes at all?”

“Looks like we’re going cold turkey,” Red Robin said in a tone that was probably supposed to be joking but just came out flat.

She pushed herself to her feet and waited as he scrolled through the millions of dimensions.

Finally, he came upon one and she added the coordinates to her and Robin’s watches.

She readied Robin’s watch against his neck and tried to ignore the kid’s sudden squirminess.

“3… 2… 1…”

They were gone in a whirl of blue light.

~~~~~

Next

@nathleigh @peachmuses

#yes i wrote timari parenting dami #for no reason #while in the middle of a completely different fic #but listen #... its cute?? #yeah no i have no excuse #i just wanted to write cute things ;-; #into the unkown #maribat #timari #timmari #timinette #shutterbug #tim drake #red robin #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug

[imhereformr]

44. I’m your new neighbour and I got locked out, help!

For Tecna x Timmy

I just think it would be funny if it happened multiple times(some on purpose) and Tecna is exasperated but also endeared.

This got out of hand... Anyways here's part 1 of 🤷🏻‍♀️

Why is it that yours are the ones that become too much for a oneshot? 

One: 

Timmy walked down the dull beige corridor of his apartment building rifling through his bag, desperately trying to find his keys. He swore he had grabbed them and put them in his pocket when he left work. Once he got to his door, he dropped the bag at his feet and searched his pockets once more. He had his wallet in his left pocket, phone in his right, a crumpled pharmacy receipt in his back pocket, and no set of keys.  

He kneeled by his bag and began pulling out its contents. There was his book, lunch, portable gaming system, an assortment of papers from work, a collection of old papers and receipts at the bottom of his bag that he really should clean out, his portable tool kit, a small pack of tissues, his reusable water bottle, and no fucking keys.

Great.

After tossing his belongings haphazardly into his bag, Timmy pulled his phone out of his pocket. When he had moved in a week ago, he’d been told to call the building manager if ever he needed anything. The building manager, a portly man with strange taste in facial hair named Mr Knut, didn’t live on site and was only there from 9am to 5pm on weekdays. He was, apparently, always available, but it was now almost 8pm on a Friday evening and there was no telling how long it would take for the man to show up.

Except that, as it turned out, the man would likely never show up because when Timmy pulled his phone out of his pocket and turned it on, he was greeted by a flashing red battery indicating that his phone was just about dead. How wonderful. He would need to ask one of his neighbours to call the manager.  

The section of the building he was in only contained three apartments. His and two others. Miss Griselda, the only of his two immediate neighbours he’d met, was a cranky old woman he was certain got joy out of terrifying ‘the damn youngins’ as she’d called them. The other was a complete stranger. No part of him felt like dealing with the old woman – he'd only met her because she happened to be getting home as he was moving boxes in, and she’d gone into a rant about how awful and unruly today’s youth was – so he would have to take his chances with the mystery neighbours.

He knew nothing about the mystery neighbours except what Griselda had told him: they were young and one of them was too loud for her liking. So far, he’d only heard faint music coming from the apartment and wasn’t quite sure what Miss Griselda was complaining for since she wasn’t directly next to them and wasn’t likely to hear the music at all.  

“Hello?”  

Shit. She was pretty. Like, really pretty. Tall with milky white skin and bright teal eyes that contrasted sharply against her cropped light purple hair. Timmy’s lips went dry and his heart sped up to the point that he thought it might win a race against a cheetah. Could this night get any worse? Lost keys, dead phone, gorgeous neighbour. What was next? Was he going to get struck by lightning? Heart attack? Have one of the giant light fixtures squash him like a bug?  

“H-hi there...” he managed to stutter.  

“Can I help you?” the girl asked after a moment of uncomfortable silence. He became exceedingly aware of the fact that he’d been standing there looking at her with what was probably an incredibly stupid look. Smooth, Timmy.  

“Right... uh... yes. I am... M-my name is Timmy. I live here. Well, no, not here here. I-I-I live next door. There,” he pointed towards his door, “and I, uh, well, I seem to have forgotten my pheys... uh, my keys, sorry, and m-my phone is... dead... and uh...” Jesus, he sounded like a bumbling idiot. He could practically hear Brandon, one of his old college roommates, teasing him about how much of an ass he was making of himself.  

“And you want me to call the building manager for you?” Oh God, she thought he was a moron. He could tell from the tone of her voice that she was already exasperated with him and, though she hadn’t physically, he was sure she was rolling her eyes in her beautiful, purple-topped head. Timmy nodded, not trusting himself to not say something stupid or ramble on like he did whenever he got nervous.  

The woman walked away, leaving the door partially open behind her. Timmy waited outside, trying not to seem like the awkward person he knew he was. He forced himself to stand ‘casually’, so he crossed his arms and stood there, staring straight at the door.  

No, that was a weird thing to do. He let his arms fall loose and his eyes wander to, well, look normal. The only interesting thing in sight to observe while he waited for her to call the manager was the inside of the apartment. He knew it was creepy, but it beat having to stare at a beige wall.  

The door opened up on the living room that was painted a light grey and offset with a teal wall that matched her eyes. Geez, had he really already memorised the colour of her eyes? He’d not even been able to meet them while he made a complete moron out of himself. The back wall had what Timmy was pretty sure was several electric guitars, acoustic guitars and maybe a bass or two hung up. A dark grey couch sat in the middle of the room facing the west wall and a large flat-screen TV.  

The TV in particular is what caught his attention. She was playing a video game. Timmy had never been one of those jerks who would gatekeep the gaming world and claim girls weren’t ‘real gamers’ because all they played was Super Mario; he prided himself on letting people enjoy what they enjoyed and welcoming them into the gaming world. This girl, though, was clearly a serious gamer. The game she was playing – one of his, if not his actual, favourite games – was a beautifully designed, complex game with so many quests, possible outcomes and hidden details that it had taken him close to a month and a half of near-fanatical gameplay to complete. It wasn’t a game that a casual gamer would take to.  

The only thing was... he didn’t recognise the scene that Elora – the main character – was in. He was certain he’d played out every possible scenario the game had to offer – he'd obsessed over it so much and had replayed it multiple times since its release. In retrospect, sheer curiosity is the sole reason that he could figure why, when the girl came back, he managed to say Hey, I don’t recognise that scene, did you find another quest? without stuttering or stumbling over his words.  

“The manager will be here in about 10 minutes” she replied bluntly before closing the door in his face. Timmy stood there dumbfounded, blinking at the closed dark beige door for longer than he cared to admit. Great, first pretty girl he’d met in a new city, and she thought he was no smarter than a panda. “Nice meeting you.”

#winx club #winx #tecmy #winx tecna #winx timmy #tecna x timmy #fanfiction #prompt #no longer a oneshot #but like... not a full story either #also #dont expect regular updates of this #it took me like two or three weeks to get this done #and its only like 1k words...

[zigtheeortega]

if we meet again

[part one of the again series]

pairing | bryce x mc

word count | 10k

warnings | mentions of sex, innuendos, drinking.

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @dakotawinchester, @writinghereandthere, @pixelsandkink, @masquerade-reimagined, @choicesarehard, @nerdferatum, @bobbymckenzie, @agentdumortain, @bryceslahela, @lahellacute, @violinet, @zigsnose, @adamdusmortain, @drsobemoji, @choeries, @houserosario, @plasticdodecagon, @noimarocketman (tagged sideblogs instead of main blogs!)

author’s note | so i recently finished the before trilogy of films, and i really wanted to write something based off of it but in a way that would better encapsulate bryce and my mc spencer! part one consists of years 1 - 4, taking place through their undergrad years at university. this is gonna be a bit of a journey so buckle up! 

read on ao3! [disclaimer: ao3 version has smut included, not separate.]

•─────────────────•

year one

The ride from the airport to her parents’ home was long and grueling, the slushy ice pelting the windshield barely passing for snow.

It was practically sub-zero outside, a stark difference between the mid seventies weather she’d just left.

Boarding a plane wearing a tank top and layering as she stepped off was a weird experience to say the least. It was like stepping into another world.

The cookie cutter suburbs were nauseatingly bland. Was this really what her parents wanted?

Sure, they were the typical awestruck immigrant family who were obsessed with the American experience, but to be wholly consumed by it? God she never wanted a roundtrip date to come so fast in her life.

They’d closed on the house faster than she could complain about it, but she couldn’t have done much anyways. They’d packed the house up right before she left for her freshman year of college, so the decision didn’t affect her too much.

The slush came down harder, sounding nearly like hail on the roof of her taxi.

She glanced down at her dirty tennis shoes and grimaced – she dreaded having to lug her suitcase from the taxi to her front door.

When it screeched to a stop, she handed the driver a couple bills (leaving a hefty tip, because hey, it was the holidays) and retrieved her things from the trunk.

Backpack slung over one shoulder, suitcase gripped in her right hand, she braced the freezing wet rain.

The walk from the mailbox to the front door was way longer than she remembered. About halfway up the short stairs, she made a crucial mistake. The ball of her foot caught a patch of ice and she tumbled to the ground.

“Ah, fuck,” she grumbled, twisting her body so she was sitting on the stairs. The rain seeped through her jeans, freezing her ass and thighs.

“Hey, miss, you okay?” A voice called from across the lawn.

Her loose hoodie obstructed her vision, so she couldn’t see the man, but she heard his shoes squelch across the grass as he jogged towards her.

“Here, lemme take that,” he said, grabbing her backpack and suitcase before helping her up with his free hand.

She tossed her hood back to catch a glimpse of the kind stranger, and her breath hitched in her throat at the sight of the handsome boy in front of her.

A single dimple appeared on one of his flushed cheeks as he flashed a grin at her, his hair damp from the falling rain. “You good?” He asked again, brown eyes searching hers.

“Uh, yeah, I’m alright. Thanks for coming to help me up,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips.

“I’ll help you to the front door. This is your house, right? I’m not aiding and abetting a burglar?” He teased, turning to walk towards her door.

“No, no. My parents live here,” she said, pointing at the house.

“And you don’t?”

“Technically yeah, in between semesters,” she said, shrugging. “Just took my last final this morning.”

“Oh, cool, me too. I made it in a couple hours ago,” he said, gesturing to the house to the left of theirs.

“So, our parents are neighbors?”

He grinned. “You sound disappointed.”

She shook her head, shoving her hands in her pockets. “No, it’s nice to know someone my age around here. They moved into this house right as I was moving into my dorm, so I didn’t get a chance to get to know anyone.”

“I guarantee my parents were the one to sell you this house,” he said, handing her the backpack and rolling her the suitcase.

“Your parents are realtors? That’s cool,” she said, nodding. “They must be great at their jobs if they convinced them to buy the house so fast.”

He laughed, eyes crinkling at the edges, his irresistible dimple popping up again. “I don’t know shit about the housing market, stranger.”

She couldn’t hold her giggle back. His laugh was infectious. “I’m the stranger? You ran up to me first.”

“Yeah, but I landed first, so I deem you the stranger,” he said, gently poking her arm. “So, stranger, do you have a name?”

“Spencer Matsuzaki,” she said, holding a hand out, half of her palm covered with the damp wrist of her hoodie.

“Bryce Lahela. Nice to meet you, stranger.”

––––

The first night home wasn’t terrible. She was practically interrogated, though.

She zoned out, slipping into the same routine she always did when she was bombarded with questions about school.

She had to stay neutral and cordial while explaining aspects of her life in grave detail on top of leaving out tons of information for her parents' health. Her parents would go into cardiac arrest if they knew how much she’d drank that semester.

After dinner, she retreated into her room for the night, grimacing at the catalogue-esque decor. Her parents really leaned into the middle class american aesthetic, and she wasn’t fond of it.

She missed living in the city. Their apartment overlooked her favorite movie theater, favorite coffee shop, and the playground of her old elementary school a couple streets over.

She missed being within walking distance of places that harbored her favorite memories. And from her new window, her view was nothing more than the house across the street and a few scattered bare trees.

The only thing she enjoyed about her new house was the balcony in front of her window, just large enough for her to sit comfortably with another person. Not like that was happening anytime soon, though.

She tugged the blanket around her shoulders, trying to fight off the biting cold. She tightened the drawstrings of her hoodie, shielding her headphones from the wind so she could hear her music clearly.

Her thoughts wandered to the boy next door.

Bryce Lahela. Beautiful face, beautiful name.

She couldn’t really put a finger on it, but something about him was so familiar. Like she’d known him for lifetimes already.

God, she admired people with that quality – being able to make someone so comfortable the minute you meet them that they just slip into whatever void you’d needed filling.

Potentially a dangerous quality, but Spencer didn’t let herself think about that possibility.

The snow had let up, the freezing temperature preserving what’d already fallen. She allowed herself a glance over at the Lahela residence, half hoping she’d find him outside.

Thankfully enough, he was exiting the front door with a wide shovel in hand, bundled up properly, unlike when they’d met a couple hours before.

She watched him as he easily shoveled the muddy sludge off of the walkways. It was just quiet enough that she could hear his soft grunts with effort at the initial plunge of the shovel into the snow.

She didn’t mean to stare. But what else was there to watch? The road was quiet, bare, like a car passing by too loudly would break the suburbian immersion.

After he’d shoveled the first pathway leading up to the house, he moved to the driveway – not before he ripped the beanie off of his head, shaking out his golden strands.

She watched unabashedly, trying to figure out how the hell a gorgeous surfer bro straight out of a Hollister ad was living next door.

He squinted in her general direction, throwing up a gloved hand to cover his eyes. A grin spread quickly, and he tossed the shovel to the ground with the other hand, using it to wave.

“Hey, stranger!” He called.

She ducked down, trying to hide her blushing cheeks as his laugh rang out, disrupting the silence.

–––

Ten pages from the end of her crime novel, right before they revealed the killer, a heavy handed knock caused Spencer to jolt nearly a foot into the air from her sitting position on the couch.

She picked up the book that morning, trying to do something productive that’d double as an excuse to get out of conversing with her parents. Eight hours later, give or take, and they’d barely bugged her for meals, let alone awkward small talk.

Shuffling to the door in her pajama pants, she yawned as she yanked the door open, expecting to see a mailman or something of that nature.

Bryce stood there instead, flirty smile and all, dimple pronounced like the cherry on top of his overwhelming attractiveness.

“Am I boring you already? Sheesh,” he teased, shoving his hands in his pockets.

She cut her yawn off, squeezing her eyes shut. “Sorry, I –” She cut herself off with yet another yawn, shaking her head. “Uh, sorry. I know that was probably super ugly.”

He shrugged. “I thought it was cute.”

She tugged her arms around herself, the tank top doing virtually nothing to shield her from the cold. “So… What’s up?”

He grinned, digging in his pocket. “I’m glad you asked.”

He whipped out two tickets, handing them to her. “Light show. You and me. Now.”

“Now?” She asked, eyebrows shooting up to her hairline.

“Yeah, now. What about it?”

She gestured to her outfit. “I’m not dressed.”

“So? Get dressed,” he shrugged again.

She rolled her eyes. “You really think my parents will let me out this late? I came back to a curfew, you know.”

“Oh. We can work around that.”

“How?” She was genuinely baffled by this guy’s confidence.

“Sneak out.”

“Did you… Did you just skip over the part where I hinted at how strict my parents are?”

He shrugged, again. “Worst case scenario, they ground you for the rest of the break. Then you go back to college in a couple weeks, and they can’t boss you around there, so what are you really risking?”

She chewed her lip, contemplating. “I mean, I can’t argue with you on that one.”

“So you’ll come?”

“Yeah. You’re lucky my parents aren’t home right now,” she said, jabbing an accusatory finger at him.

“Like they could resist this face.”

––––

Downtown – or what she presumed was downtown – was overtaken by lights, the edges of the area blocked off, vendors lined up in parking spaces, nets of overhead lights illuminating the huge displays below.

They’d been walking in silence for a while, just soaking it in and basking in the holiday spirit.

Despite her disdain for the town, Spencer loved the way they celebrated the holidays.

“Hey, I’ll be right back,” Bryce said a bit suddenly, running off before she had a chance to respond.

“Oh… kay,” Spencer murmured, watching him disappear into the crowd. She tugged at her beanie, raking shaky fingers through her hair.

Bryce was… unwavering. He had such a strong personality and a knack for flirting without meaning to.

To put it in its simplest terms, he made her nervous. Really nervous.

It was like the minute he left her immersion was broken and she realized just how hot he was and that she should be nervous.

Her eyes wandered, trying to alleviate some of her apprehension. She hadn’t been to a community-unifying event like that one before, so watching the families and children prance through the snow was enough to fulfill the soft spot in her heart only classic Christmas movies could fill.

“Here,” Bryce huffed from behind her, breaking her concentration.

She turned at the sound of his voice, flinching when she realized how close he was to her, disposable coffee cup in hand, steam slithering out of the small hole in the lid.

“What’s that?”

“Hot chocolate. I figured you’d want something to warm you up,” he smiled, lifting one shoulder in a lazy shrug.

“Oh, this is perfect,” she said graciously, taking the cup from his hands, warming both by the way their fingers brushed each others’ and the heat from the drink. “Thank you.”

“Ah, no need to thank me. It’s the least I could do after dragging you out here,” he said a bit sheepishly, kicking the toe of his boot into the snow.

“You didn’t drag me out anywhere. You were convincing,” she laughed, taking a small sip of the hot chocolate, revelling in the way it warmed her from the inside out. “Maybe a bit too convincing.”

“I don’t need to know how powerful I am or I’ll let it go to my head,” he winked. “How is it?”

“Delicious.”

He nodded. “Perfect.”

She sipped on her drink in silence for a while, racking her brain to come up with conversation topics.

They’d really only spoken in passing, so what the fuck were they supposed to talk about?

“So… you want to ride the train?” He asked, pointing at the train riding through the town square.

Within minutes they were seated on the train in the caboose – the very last seat. Families were spread out through the first couple cars, then onto couples.

They probably didn’t want toddlers watching high school aged kids swapping spit, so they sent them to the back.

That notion made Spencer nervous. Was she on a date? He hadn’t really specified – hell, he was barely giving her details about where they were going before dragging her out of her house.

The train began to move, slowly riding through the square, the families in the front chatting and the children giggling and waving at the passing patrons.

She chatted with Bryce about nothing in particular, just kind of getting to know each other. She found out he loved baseball, hated night classes, and was a huge fan of pineapple – he could smell it in her shampoo.

She’d just begun to relax before noticing the young couple in front of her lean in for a kiss that turned a bit heated. Her hands were clasped in her lap to keep them from trembling, her breath just as shaky.

A warm arm grazed her shoulders, his arm resting on the top of the seat. There wasn’t any pressure for her to do anything with him. But she kind of wanted to.

She mustered up the courage to flick her gaze in his direction, settling on his soft, pleasant smile, seemingly permanent on Bryce’s features.

“Is this a date?” She blurted, cursing herself immediately.

He didn’t seem phased.

“If you want it to be.”

She definitely did.

––––

The walk to her front door was long, even longer than when she was on her own lugging her belongings through the icy slush.

“I had a really nice time, Bryce,” she said, ambling up the last couple steps.

“Me, too. I’m glad I bought an extra ticket yesterday,” he grinned.

She raised a brow at him, prompting him to continue.

“After I helped you inside I immediately left to go get tickets,” he said bashfully. His cheeks were flushed – from the cold or the admission, she had no idea.

“So you’d had this date planned for a whole day?” She asked, a bit taken aback. He’d definitely painted it out to be a spur of the moment thing, no premeditation in sight.

“So it was a date,” he teased, dimple even more prominent as he spoke.

She scrunched her lips to the side to hide her own smile. “Yeah, I think it was.”

“Can I kiss you?”

She made the grave mistake of breaking eye contact, her gaze darting from his mouth back to his eyes. He closed the gap between them in one step.

“I can’t kiss you in front of my house. My parents could see,” she whispered as his gloved hand flicked her messy strands away from her cheeks.

“You wanna save this for another time?” Her heart couldn’t help but race at his playful tone.

She nodded.

“How long are you gonna be here for break?” He asked. “I wanna see you again.”

“I’ll be here through the week.”

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He pulled her into a hug, warm and enveloping despite the cold. “Goodnight, Spencer. Sweet dreams.”

She was so comfortable, so safe in his grip that when she felt him loosen it, she squeezed him tighter without really meaning to.

It was scary how quickly she’d grown attached to a complete stranger.

“‘Night,” she waved, eyes still trained on him as she closed the door.

––––

It took her way too long to fall asleep that night.

His last question and her agreeance to the terms ran through her head on loop.

She was anticipating what he was going to do next. Excited to see how the rest of her break would look like.

After a restless night, she awoke pretty early, lounging around in bed for way too long, aimlessly scrolling through social media.

A day ago, she’d have been jealous of her friends vacationing at the beach, but… she wasn’t as upset at the idea of being home for break.

She stood up, stretching and popping her limbs, grabbing a hoodie from her luggage to throw on.

As she did, something caught her attention, just at the edge of her peripheral – a folded slip of paper in her window sill.

She grabbed it, unravelling the damp paper, trying to decipher the bleeding ink.

“Had to leave earlier than I thought. Sorry. Not sure when I’ll see you again, so here’s my number.”

The paper had been covered in water for a long while, so long that the number at the bottom was smudged, the hardest to read out of the whole message. She could barely make out the area code, let alone the rest of it.

She crumpled it up and threw it in the trash, deciding she could just head over and ask his parents for his number instead if he’d left for school.

After trudging across the lawn through the snow, she noticed something was a bit off, but decided to push the feeling down and ring the doorbell.

She peered through the glass of their front door, realizing that the lights were off, clothes and boxes and bags strewn across the foyer.

No one was home.

––––

year two

The moment the taxi pulled to a stop in front of her house, her eyes searched the front lawn of the house next door.

The familiar sensation of disappointment lingered, despite her constant chastising to not get her hopes up.

She sat on her balcony for a couple hours a day, the space heater on full blast at her feet, trying not to look desperate as her eyes flickered to and from Bryce’s house.

But no one entered or exited the house all break.

––––

year three

He stared down the bottom of the glass, eyes trained on the milky film the eggnog left behind, the spiced rum shots he’d taken warming his limbs.

The trial had been grueling.

No one could’ve prepared him for the way the legal system chewed him up and spat him out each time he entered the courtroom and sat on the opposite side of the room, avoiding his parents’ cold glares.

He shouldn’t have had to testify against them in the first place, but who else were they going to call to the stand? Keiki? She could barely write her own name, let alone understand her rights.

And she shouldn’t have to see her parents – hell, her whole family – being scrutinized and ripped apart, televised for anyone within a thousand mile radius.

He didn’t know that this town was their escape.

If someone would’ve told him two years ago that his first Christmas in college would’ve left him in shambles, his entire world upturned, he wouldn’t have believed them.

Thank god it was one of the only properties they owned that was untouched by their blood money.

Word had spread to his university students, causing him to have to go into hiding. Did all his work from home, got special permission from the chancellor to move his courses online.

He was forced to stay in Hawaii, juggling court and school on top of the press and the general stress of life – he’d been on autopilot since his parents woke him up in the middle of the night to fly back home.

The moment he finished his finals that semester, he boarded the plane without a second thought.

He needed an escape. 

Despite the whirlwind, she was on the back of his mind through it all.

Anytime his life got a little too difficult, his mind roamed to the last time he felt normal – the last 48 hours before everything went to shit.

When he’d touched down he’d entered the empty, dusty house, throwing his things down and trudging next door.

The heavy raps of his knuckles against the wooden door were the only display of confidence he could muster.

Is Spencer here? He asked.

She’s in Europe for break.

Europe.

Of all the places she had to be during the holidays, it had to be across the world.

So he found himself at the bar, a newly 21 year old downing holiday drinks as fast as the bartender could make them.

She’d probably forgotten about him. It’s best he moved on anyways.

––––

year four

Graduation was so close she could taste it.

Yeah, she was drowning in med school applications and coming down from her post MCAT high, but her degree was peeking over the horizon, just within her reach.

She could only afford to visit home for a couple days before she had to roadtrip to a couple med schools to tour and interview.

She’d grown into herself the past three years, gaining confidence she didn’t know she had in her. Countless haircuts, style changes, shifts in interest – anytime she was uncomfortable she reinvented herself. It was freeing as hell.

So… going home was weird. Like she was regressing. She knew she wasn’t, but it didn’t stop the itching feeling that she didn’t belong there.

Her parents convinced her to visit for the holidays since it was her last year before she was truly on her own. The car ride was anxiety inducing – she tried to shove the thoughts to the back of her brain.

It’d been three years. She couldn’t dwell on it anymore. It was just a fun weekend, a spontaneous date, a gorgeous guy. Nothing more than that.

She’d moved on for sure – lots of dates, sloppy bar makeouts, and one night stands – but she couldn’t completely forget about the stranger.

It wasn’t like anything super memorable happened – it was a classic crush because of how confident he was.

Now that she’d started to emulate that same confidence herself, the allure was mostly gone, but she just couldn’t let him go no matter how hard she tried.

This time her eyes flickered to the house next door, gaze lingering a bit longer than she wanted to allow herself to look.

At least on paper she was growing.

–––––

Her first dinner at home was the same as always. She spent most of the time dodging intrusive questions and diplomatically answering as well as she could.

Maybe she should’ve thanked her parents for pressuring her to come home – it was perfect interview preparation and she didn’t have to lift a finger.

Her room was untouched as usual, the decor nauseatingly basic – if she hated it before, she hated it more now.

The suburban life was even farther away from what she’d wanted three years ago. Fast paced city life and a job in a world renowned hospital were her only two goals as far as she was concerned. Anything else could wait.

As she unpacked her toiletries, she found herself glancing at the door to her balcony.

She shook it off, choosing to settle in bed with a warm blanket with her laptop and planner, trying to focus on her diploma application.

––––

She jolted awake, scrubbing the sleeve of her jacket across her cheek, grimacing when she saw streaks of drool on the fabric.

She shuddered a bit, realizing she fell asleep on top of the covers, the room’s temperature absolutely freezing.

The space heater was close by, luckily, so she didn’t have to shuffle far to plug it in, crouching down next to it to rub her hands in front of it.

The window to her balcony was cracked just slightly  – it’d probably blown open bc of the wind or something. She pushed herself to her feet again, closing and locking the door, but not before catching a glimpse of a light. It wasn’t a streetlight. It was a porch light.

She flung the door open and stepped onto the balcony, ignoring the snow seeping through her fuzzy socks, numbing her toes.

Bryce’s lights were on, and fresh tire tracks trailed up the driveway to the garage.

––––

She tossed and turned that night, a little glad that she’d gotten at least some sleep in the form of a nap.

She gave up after a while, brewing coffee and sitting in the kitchen with her laptop for a couple of hours before her parents awoke.

When they finally woke up, she practically jumped at the chance to ask them about him.

“No one’s lived next door for years. Someone comes and checks up on it once or twice a year, but other than that, it’s vacant,” her mother said, elbows deep in a sink full of dirty plates.

She was thankful her mom was preoccupied so she wouldn’t see her deflate.

––––

Spencer allowed herself approximately thirty minutes of sulking before she made a to-do list of everything she needed to get done before noon.

She’d been home for less than a day and she was already itching to get out.

The drive from her parents’ house to the tiny coffee shop was short, the handful of tables inside bare. She guessed it was because most people were at home enjoying spending time with family – she was the odd one out for having her planner and laptop splayed across the table.

She was neck deep in a chem textbook when she saw him.

He was more chiseled. Taller, too.

The beanie was tugged tight around his head, cheeks flushed. The quarter zip up fit him like a glove, hugging every single muscle.

He slipped his gloves off, tucking them into his pocket, squinting – probably trying to decipher the inane pun names for each drink.

“Can I get a, uh, latte with a couple espresso shots?” She heard him ask, peeking over the top of her textbook, trying to get a good look at him.

He chuckled pretty suddenly, pointing at the clear display of pastries. “Add one of those little things onto it.”

“You mean the ‘Rudolph Red Velvet’ cake pop or the ‘Dasher & Dancer Dark Chocolate’, sir?” The teen said.

His grin stretched even wider, hunching over to read the labels. “Can you tell me the rest of the flavors?”

“Well, we’ve got the full setup of reindeers. It gets pretty confusing at times – ’Dasher & Dancer Dark Chocolate’, ‘Prancer & Vixen Vanilla’, ‘Comet & Cupid Cheesecake’, ‘Donner & Blitzen Berry’, and ‘Rudolph Red Velvet’,” the teen listed off, pointing at the nearly identical cake pops.

He laughed, booming throughout the small room, ringing out even over the blenders.

Yeah, that was Bryce. No doubt about it.

“Give me one of each,” he said, handing the teen a couple bills. While they counted the change, Bryce tossed a $20 bill onto the counter. “This is compensation for having to read those god awful names.”

They mirrored his expression, pocketing the bill.

Spencer was nearly frozen with fear – she didn’t think she was going to run into him. She looked frumpy and felt exhausted, and was a little frustrated at how little she understood from the passages she’d tried deciphering.

She stood up, then sat down immediately. She stood up again, conflicted.

But before she could decide what to do, he turned, coffee in hand, bag of cake pops in the other – one cake pop tucked deep into his cheek. 

She saw him.

He saw her.

Time slowed. 

She was grateful that he was the first to move towards her, eyes bright, gaze soft like he’d seen an old friend – God, that reaction alone was enough to make Spencer float above the clouds.

He chewed his cake pop on the way over, setting down his bag and coffee near the edge of the table out of the way of her mess.

“Hey,” he mumbled through a mouthful of food, chewing vigorously.

“Bryce, oh my god, I – I thought I’d never see you again – you just disappeared and –”

He held up a hand, swallowing. “What’d you say?”

“Oh, I said that I thought I’d never see you again –”

“Wait, wait,” he flipped the side of his beanie up, revealing wireless headphones, which he tugged out and immediately pocketed.

Christ. Embarrassing. Her cheeks burned, inwardly cringing. This is going so swimmingly, Spencer.

He shook his head incredulously, mouth moving like he wanted to say something, but no words came.

“I… didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said, eyes slowly raking over her features.

“Oh my god, I didn’t think I’d see you, Bryce,” she said, nervously adjusting her glasses. Good thing he didn’t notice her recycling sentiments.

“So… how have you been?” He smiled, taking a sip of his latte.

He was playing this way cooler than she was. How was he not freaking the fuck out?

“I’ve been good. Uh, good and kinda busy I guess. I’m waiting to hear back from a couple of med schools and I’m graduating this spring, so I’m excited about that,” she said, trying and failing to figure out how to condense three years worth of personal growth into a couple sentences without boring him to tears. “What about you?”

He nodded, tipping back the steaming latte again. “I’ve been pretty good. Got into my dream med school and it’s, like, across the country from where I am now, so that’ll be good for me. Fresh start, you know?”

She gave him a slight smile, closing her textbook and stacking her planner on top of it.

“Oh, I was just picking this stuff up, so I can let you get back to studying,” he said, unsure, jabbing his thumb towards the door.

“No, no, I was closing it so I can give you my full attention,” she explained, shaking her head. “Just getting some random stuff done. I’m fine.”

He relaxed a bit more at that, settling into his seat like he was at home. “So… what are you working on?”

“I’m getting some last stuff done before I leave this weekend. Just some basic housekeeping. Ironing out details, you know,” she nodded, fiddling with the frayed hole on the hem of her hoodie.

He was trying to jump back in like everything was… normal. This wasn’t normal.

“Oh you’re leaving?” He seemed disappointed, a wrinkle forming between his brows where he pushed them together.

“Yeah, I’m using part of my break to fit in some last minute tours and interviews.”

“Oh… Well if you’re leaving soon, do you wanna do dinner at my place tonight?” He asked. “I feel like we’d be more comfortable catching up there.”

A… date? After all these years? And he still knows literally nothing about me?

––––

She chewed her lip, trying to hold back a smile.

His pulse raced, wondering if she’d reject him. He should’ve thought it through before blurting out a question like that. He’d spoken to her for all of five minutes and he was already asking her to go back to his place.

“So… is this a date?”

The mischievous look on her face was contagious – just a hint of flirtatious teasing like the first time they met.

“Yeah, but only if you want it to be,” he answered, tossing the drink back again, the liquid warming his insides (his morning run was long, and the wind was biting).

“And if I don’t?” She adjusted her glasses again, the only sign of tension amidst her otherwise calm demeanor.

And if he hadn’t ran through the memories of that night over and over, fixating on every little detail he managed to retain, he might’ve not caught it.

Her nervousness was a comfort – It meant she still liked him enough to be on edge around him.

“Then we’re just two neighbors catching up while eating food,” he shrugged, popping another cake pop in his mouth.

He held the bag out to her. “Want one?”

She peered over into the bag, lashes gently brushing her under eyes. “Will you get mad if I take Rudolph?”

God, she was so fucking pretty. He couldn’t get over it. All these years and she only managed to get hotter.

“Why would that bother me?” He mumbled through his mouth full of cake.

“He’s supposed to be special, right? I just thought you’d want him,” she said, crossing her arms on the table and leaning in more.

He sat up, leaning an elbow on the table, tipping forward to close the gap between them – he plucked the cake pop from the bag by its stick, waving it in front of her face.

She didn’t retreat. The only reaction was the color rising to her cheeks, a hint of rouge beneath the spatter of light freckles on her face – the ones that no one could see unless they were this close.

“You’re special, too, y’know,” he said, pushing the limits even more, bringing it to her lips. “Take it.”

He was egging her on, testing whatever change she’d clearly been through – underneath the confidence lurked something sultry that he desperately wanted to bring out of her.

She leaned forward and lowered her mouth around the pop, sinking her teeth into the stick, her lips grazing the tips of Bryce’s fingers.

She pulled back, chewing through a smile. “Yum.”

His stomach flipped, but he kept his poker face even.

It was odd, having this girl in front of him that he’d thought about for years when he’d convinced himself it was a fluke or a dream or a little bit of both.

They both chewed in silence, eyes still firmly locked on each other.

There was so much he needed to say but it just wasn’t the right time.

“What time should I come over?” She asked after swallowing.

“When do you usually eat dinner?”

She rolled her eyes at him, still trying to hold back a smile even though she clearly found him mildly entertaining if not infuriating as hell (which was an attitude he thrived off of).

“I don’t care, Spence. Whenever you want.”

––––

Bryce tapped his foot, adjusting the napkins and cutlery for the hundredth time before pacing towards the monitor that showed him the front door’s security cam.

He should not have told her to come over whenever. The delivery guy was stuck in traffic, so his whole plan of pretending like he cooked was thwarted by the icy roads.

He checked the delivery app for the millionth time, the time remaining still stuck on “14 minutes”.

Was a button up with slacks too much for dinner? Christ, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually been nervous before a date.

He wasn’t sure if it ever had happened before, because it didn’t happen.

He wasn’t afraid of shooting his shot with anyone. That cute guy at the gym? No hesitation. His bio lab partner sophomore year? Of course. The ex-girlfriend of the one fraternity brother he didn’t like? Yup. That one fraternity brother he really liked? Hell yeah.

There wasn’t a time that he he actually had to try to get someone to like him – his conquests weren’t really conquests. They’d always just kind of… fallen into his lap, for lack of a better phrase.

But he also couldn’t name a single person he’d “pined” for, whatever that meant. Spencer was the first girl that had slipped through his fingers – maybe this date would be closure. If she was down to fuck, maybe they’d get the weird three-year-long outstanding “what if?” question answered.

He filled the bucket with ice, neatly digging the champagne bottle’s base into it, even grabbing a rag to wipe the perspiration off the metal to buy some time.

A few more minutes passed. When he checked the app again, it’d changed to “13 minutes”, and Spencer was walking down his driveway.

Even on the grainy screen he could tell that whatever she had on was gonna drive him wild.

He strode towards the door, flinging it open to greet her.

“Hey, Spencer,” he grinned, opening his arms wide for a hug.

She matched his expression with a sweet smile of her own, slipping into his grip and molding herself against his body like she belonged there.

Fuck, she smelled delicious. Her hair, her lip gloss, her perfume – everything about her was delectable and made holding back all the more harder.

“Hey, Bryce,” she murmured, squeezing him. “It’s cold. Can we move inside?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Sorry about that,” he apologized, pulling back but keeping his palm on her lower back, shutting and locking the door behind him.

She walked into the main corridor, just kind of… observing. Taking everything in.

“Huh.”

“What do you mean, ‘huh’?” He asked, glancing down at her discreetly. 

“It’s… nice. I can tell it’s your parents’ house.”

He chuckled, surprised. “Yeah, but what is that supposed to mean?”

“None of your personality is in this house. I figured it’d be brighter. Less marble, too,” she said, gesturing towards the decorations straight from a catalogue sprinkled throughout the house.

He couldn’t help that his parents insisted on flying out their personal interior designer to every house they owned. But it didn’t make it any less cringe worthy.

“No, you’re right,” he nodded, shrugging. “Can’t argue with that.”

He gently steered them towards the kitchen, his eyes flitting towards her as she scanned the house, a pleasant enough look on her face.

“What would you change about this house?” She asked, sliding onto one of the never-been-used barstools.

“Well, for one, I wouldn’t even have it in the first place,” he said, opening the cabinet next to the fridge, retrieving the champagne glasses.

“Really?”

“Really. If I had it my way, we would’ve never left Maui.”

She nodded, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Setting the glasses down in front of her, he stood on the other side of the counter, grabbing the bottle by its neck, unravelling the wrapping on the outside. “Hope this is alright. I just picked a bottle that looked expensive.”

“Expensive doesn’t mean better,” she said, eyes trained on the bottle, probably trying to read the label.

“You’re right, again. Two for two,” he joked, sliding the cork from the opening with a loud “pop”, the sound ricocheting off the walls and flooring.

After pouring it, he cocked his head her way, encouraging her to take the first sip.

She tipped the glass back, her nose scrunching after taking a deep swallow. “Mmmm. I would’ve settled for the shitty boxed wine I drank in college over this.”

He took a sip and shook his head, sticking his tongue out with a grimace. “Yeah, this tastes like ass.”

She snorted, covering her mouth as she laughed, making a breathy choking sound that he found oddly endearing.

“To answer your question, I’d probably paint the walls yellow. Hang up my grandpa’s old surfboard my dad passed down to me, if I can even find it. Maybe some movie posters,” he continued, gesturing towards the deadspace on the walls in the kitchen.

“Yeah, that’s kinda what I pictured, too,” she hummed, shivering after downing the rest of the glass.

“You don’t have to drink anymore. We agreed it tastes like shit,” he walked over to the cabinet, browsing the bottles, nearly empty. “I only have… a little bit of tequila and some rum.”

“I’ll take a rum and coke then,” she smiled gratefully, pushing the empty glass to the side.

While making the drinks, he checked his phone, hoping that the driver was close by. No luck – the time hadn’t shifted.

“So… when’s the delivery guy getting here?”

He could sense her behind him. When he turned to offer her a glass, he realized just how close she was.

She accepted the glass, craning her neck around him to look at his phone’s screen. “I knew it.”

“What? What’d you know?” He asked, unable to look anywhere but her plush lips, curved upwards into a grin.

She was life-ruiningly pretty. It was like God himself scanned Bryce’s brain and 3D copied his fantasies into the form of Spencer Matsuzaki, who was quite literally the girl of his dreams.

“I knew you weren’t a cooking type. I figured you were gonna get takeout, and I was right,” she pointed at his screen, the delivery app still open.

“Yeah, I was gonna try to impress you and pretend that I’d cooked everything but clearly that didn’t pan out,” he chuckled, peering down at her.

“That’s the oldest trick in the book, Bryce. I would’ve easily clocked that,” she shook her head, taking a quick sip of her drink, still standing close enough to him that he could feel her breath on him each time she laughed.

Before he dropped everything and propositioned her right there to take it to the living room, she turned on her heel and walked back towards her stool.

They sipped their drinks in silence, an air of awkwardness settling into the atmosphere – for the first time in, well, years they were completely and utterly alone.

She chewed her lip, swiping her thumb across the perspiration on the cup. “So…” 

“So?”

“I feel like we have a lot of ground to cover.”

He nodded. “I guess the question now is ‘where do we start?’”

“We could just ask each other stuff and see how that goes.”

“I’ll go first – are you still single?”

A laugh ripped from her chest, bounding off the walls and floor, filling up the space with sound (one that was quickly becoming his favorite).

“That’s the first thing you ask me? After all these years?” She asked incredulously, shaking her head in awe.

He grinned. “Sounds like you’re avoiding the question.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Avoiding the question? Or you’re single?” He teased.

“I’m not seeing anyone at the moment, no.”

“Oh, at the moment. Seems like I’ve got some competition.”

Laughing, she tipped her head back to take a deep gulp. He watched as she did, a bit envious of the glass wrapped between her fingers and the rim caught between her lips.

She was a bit more timid when she drank the hot chocolate he offered her years before, cupping it with both hands and taking soft sips, smiling shyly, like being offered a drink on a date was something she should be grateful for.

The way she held herself was different. Before, it was like she was apologetic for taking up too much space, but this version of Spencer took the world by storm – like when she walked into the room, she claimed the space as her own before anyone else could tell her differently.

Whatever miniscule reservations he had about sleeping with her were out the window before she set her glass back down.

“I’m assuming you don’t have anyone at home waiting for you if you asked me that first,” she said, bluntly, chewing on a piece of ice.

“What makes you say that?” “Well you’re obviously gauging whether or not you want to fuck me tonight so I might as well be as upfront as you,” she shrugged, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

“Is that so?” He quirked a brow at her. “Would you count frequent hookups?”

“Nope. I’ve got those, too, but I don’t count ‘em.”

“So you turned out to be pretty wild, huh?”

She laughed. “I hope you realize how weird you sound. I’m not who I was at 18. Shit, and you barely even knew me then!”

He held his hands up in protest. “My bad.”

She tapped her nails on the counter, looking a bit conflicted. “No, it’s okay. Just a bit of a sensitive topic, I guess.”

“Parents, huh?”

“Yep. Don’t quite approve of who I am, even though I’m literally going to be studying to be a doctor,” she rolled her eyes. “I did get pretty wild, though. I mean, I had to get it out of my system before med school, you know?”

He shrugged. “Totally understandable.”

“Speaking of, why aren’t yours here? I figured I was going to accidentally run into them or something,” she mused, crunching on another ice cube.

He tried hiding his reaction, but he couldn’t help the way he tensed up at the mere mention of them. The thought of her bringing them up crossed his mind before, so thankfully he was able to keep it moving.

“Oh, they moved back to Hawaii a while ago. Been waiting to put this house on the market but it just didn’t seem like the right time.”

“So why aren’t you with them for the holidays?”

He stiffened, racking his brain for a believable lie. There was no fucking way he was baring his soul to the girl that just stepped back into his life.

She was the last good memory he had before everything went to shit, so he couldn’t break the illusion. Spencer was too good for this – maybe too good for him.

Court baggage was a heavy load to bear. Criminal baggage was even heavier. Lying to save face was the only way he could protect them both.

“Oh, it was just cheaper for me to stay here than fly back to Hawaii.”

She nodded, seemingly in agreeance, swirling the last bit of ice around her glass before tipping it back again. “S’good you get a little peace and quiet between semesters.”

“You have no idea,” he breathed, practically sighing in relief, thankful the crisis was averted.

“I do have a question, though,” she said, setting the glass down and pushing it away from her. “Why did you leave your number on my window sill?”

He leaned over the counter, bracing his arms against it. “So you did see it.”

“You’re lucky I found it! You could not have chosen a worse place to put it.”

“Well, you used to always walk out on your balcony so I thought it’d be safe.”

She pursed her lips, seemingly holding back a smile. “You remember that?”

“Yeah, of course. Why didn’t you, you know, use the number, though?” He asked, teasing.

Her mouth popped open, looking almost offended by his words. “Oh my god, you think if I had your number we still wouldn’t have talked for three years?”

“When you put it that way, I guess it doesn’t make sense,” he laughed, taking a swig of his drink.

“No, but I can’t get over that – you thought this entire time that I just didn’t try to contact you? Bryce, you offered to kiss me before literally disappearing into the night – you thought I wouldn’t have at least, you know, tried following up on that?” Spencer was giggling in between her words, barely able to get it out of her system.

“Yeah, well, you think I didn’t want to follow up on the kiss either? I’m the one who offered!”

They were cutting up, both leaning over the counter, folded over in laughter. They’d shifted closer as they got more comfortable with each other, their arms nearly grazing each others’ over the cold granite. 

God, she was so beautiful. Everything he felt when he met her three years ago was pretty much amplified. He had it bad for her.

When she noticed how close they were, her eyes flitted to his lips, tongue darting out to wet her own.

“You wanna cash in on that now? I heard that ‘Bryce Lahela Kiss Coupons’ never expire,” he said, voice low, reaching out to swipe the pad of his thumb over her chin.

“Bryce…” she said, closing her eyes, before leaning back to put some distance between them. “We have to lay some ground rules first.”

He sighed, standing up at his full height. “Okay, shoot.”

“I’m not trying to go all analytical on you, but we have to get this out of the way first. Tell me where your top three med schools are.”

A snort escaped him before he could stop himself. “What, do you only fuck guys that go to –”

“– And girls –”

“And girls – that go to John Hopkins?” He asked, teasing. “Me, too, by the way.”

She shook her head, ignoring his joke. “Nope. Just tell me.”

“Well, I’m looking at California, New York, and Chicago. What about you?”

“Ohio, Virginia, and Washington.”

The pieces fell into place for him. “Damn, you were playing chess and I was playing checkers, huh?”

She laughed. “No, no, I was just curious. I didn’t think we’d get as far as relationship talk, but I figured after everything we’d been through, we might as well discuss it, you know?”

“So that means this is a one-and-done type deal.”

“I guess so,” she said, scratching at her neck. “I’ve made out with plenty of people before and forgotten it, so if you want to just see how we feel, I’m down.”

“Oh, I think you’ll remember this for a while,” he said, stretching across the counter to gently cup her face in both hands, pressing a deep kiss to her lips.

Their first kiss was unlike no other. What’d started out as an offhanded joke to relieve three years worth of tension quickly morphed into desperate grabbing of clothes, heavy pants, and even heavier tension crackling like a fire between them.

She fisted his collar, dragging him to her over the counter, kneeling on her bar stool and pushing herself closer and closer to him. 

Bryce had his share of sloppy bar makeouts, passionate kisses amidst sex – even sweet domestic kisses during mundane tasks. But this kiss? Somehow it was a bit of everything rolled into one.

They parted pretty abruptly when he elbowed her empty champagne glass and it clattered against the counter.

“Shit,” he cursed, pulling back just a hair to check the damage.

When he turned back, she was still holding him, staring at him, a look on her face that he hadn’t seen before.

“That was…” her lids fluttered, tongue darting out to lick her lips – like she was savoring his taste.

“Really good.”

She nodded. “Insanely good.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“Is it what you were dreaming of?” He teased, but there was a hint of sincerity to it. 

She nodded again, her grip tightening on his collar. “I’m a little scared at how much I enjoyed it.”

“Scared? Why?” He murmured, stroking his thumb against her cheek in comfort.

“Well… this can’t happen,” she gestured between them.

“It doesn’t have to happen. We can pretend like the kiss never did, just like you said. I don’t mind,” he shrugged.

“But… what if I want it to?”

He couldn’t conceal the smirk tugging at his lips. “You wanna take this upstairs?”

She tried holding back a smile. “Maybe.”

“Well, you can think about it over dinner, whenever that gets here.”

The driver took about twenty minutes, and eating took them twenty more. Small talk was managed, jokes were cracked, but there was an unmistakable feeling in the air that both of them could sense.

Bryce was no stranger to sexual tension. Hell, he thrived on it.

Making a cute girl blush? Exhilarating. Getting a guy at the bar fund his hangover? Incredible. Those few minutes between knowing you’re going to fuck someone and actually fucking them? Couldn’t get enough.

The minute their plates were cleared, she took his hand and led him upstairs, throwing glances back at him like if she let go for a second he’d disappear.

As much as he just wanted to fool around, he couldn’t help but pocket the small details for later, just in case he decided it was alright to get emotionally invested. Despite feeling like he had a hold on the situation, he definitely didn’t.

He was a bit delusional in thinking he wasn’t already falling for her the way she was for him.

––––

[part 1.5 coming soon]

____

They’d been curled up in bed for nearly an hour and a half, just talking, every once in a while pulling the other in for another kiss that led to roaming hands. 

In another life, if they’d both lived in that town and grew up there, there was no doubt they’d be best friends. High school sweethearts, even.

But she knew that whatever daydreams she’d conjured up could never be reality.

This was a one-time thing. They both knew that.

After a lull in conversation she slipped out of bed, gathering her clothes and tossing them onto the bed.

“You leaving?” He asked, sitting up.

“Uh, yeah. I think I need to get going. I’ve still got a curfew,” she shrugged, making a hand motion like she was pulling the trigger.

“Still have one? Damn, that sucks. Am I gonna get to see you tomorrow?” He rubbed the back of his neck.

He remembered her curfew?

She snapped her bra back in place, avoiding his eye as she slid on her straps. “I, um, have to leave.”

“I thought you were staying through the weekend?” He sounded taken aback, like he thought he had more time.

She slipped her underwear and pants on fast. “I have a long drive ahead of me and I kinda wanted a night to breathe before I tour and interview, you know?”

He was silent. She threw her sweater on before daring a glance at him. His eyes were trained on the mattress, refusing to look at her.

“Bryce,” she called, but he shook his head.

She sat on the mattress, tipping his chin up with her finger. “What’s wrong?”

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug, sighing. “It’s stupid.”

“C’mon, it’s not stupid. Tell me.”

“I’m kinda regretting this being a one-time thing.”

She raked his hair back, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “I am, too.”

He met her eyes again, brows furrowed. “You are?”

She nodded. “I like you. A lot.”

“So what’s stopping us? We can make it work if we try –”

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, looking at the ground. “I don’t know if we can.”

“Why not?”

“The distance, first of all. And we’re going to be in different programs in different states, so there’s no way we can fully commit to school and our future if we’re trying to start a relationship and maintain it –”

“Spencer, you think I’m gonna give up that easily after all this time? I just got you back,” he said, lifting a hand to cup her cheek.

“This isn’t giving up, Bryce… this is… practical. Rational,” she added, leaning into his touch. “The right thing to do.”

“It doesn’t feel right.”

“I know, but… I think it’s easier to move on now rather than later when we’re in too deep,” she gulped, trying to soothe the lump forming in her throat.

She knew this wasn’t gonna be easy, but she figured it’d be easier than falling for him over phone calls and video chats and sweet good morning texts and the inevitable breakup that came after.

“You sure we’re not already in it?” He asked, underneath his breath, gaze flitting to her lips.

She rolled her lips, shaking her head, trying to mask her wobbling chin.

“If you don’t want to get hurt, I get it, but I need you to know that I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I met you,” he said, cupping her cheeks with both hands. “And – and I never thought I’d see you again, so I don’t want to let you go without at least, you know, trying to fight for you.”

He brought her in for a deep kiss, seemingly trying to plead his case with his touch.

“Maybe we should just go our separate ways and pretend tonight didn’t happen. It might be less difficult,” she murmured after he pulled away.

“None of this will be easy for us, Spence,” he pressed their foreheads together, both of them closing their eyes.

“Honestly, I want nothing more than to be with you. I want you so badly, but I’ve got so many commitments and my career and I can’t just throw my responsibilities out the window, because I know I would – that’s what scares me,” she whispered, voice cracking.

“You’re right. I hate that you’re right.”

––––

When she slipped back into her room after saying a quick goodnight to her parents, she curled up in her bed and cried.

She didn’t want to cry – it was like her body wouldn’t let her hold it in any longer. The sobs wracked her body as if personified guilt had grabbed her by the shoulders, dug its fingers into her skin, and shook her the tears from her.

Hours later, she woke up in the middle of the night, face still puffy and irritated. As she stood up to go throw cool water on her face, she noticed something taped to her window.

His number and socials were listed in a neat bulleted list, and below it, he’d scrawled a simple note:

“If we meet again.”

––––

#playchoices #bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #bryce x mc #my fic #jade writes choices fics

[mfingenius]

Can you write a one shot of a young, cute but still mature 5th year Draco as a prefect being absolutely smitten and pining after the elusive and mysterious Head Boy, one Harry Potter? Appreciate you

Harry Potter is one year above Draco’s, and Draco’s crush since he met him when he was sorted. Draco had been young and terribly excited to be going to Hogwarts. Though his mum had chosen to raise him in the muggle world, she’d told him many things about Hogwarts, and it’s always sounded so much better than his muggle school.

He’d been sorted Slytherin, and he’d been a little scared after being shown to the common room. Everything was so dark and scary, and everyone in his house seemed to be cool and detached, and Draco’s - well, Draco’s pretty much the opposite of that.

He’s easily excited, and passionate, and cares too much about everything; he stays up too late reading and drawing and talking to the merepeople in the lake, and most of his housemates seem to think he’s some sort of weird bug. They don’t like him much - he gets on much better with Luna, from Ravenclaw, who seems to be just as odd as he is - than with any of them.

The only person in his house that he like? Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.

Hermione indulges his curiosity much more so than anyone else - even if she also gets exasperated at his questions, which are never school related - and Harry - well, Harry’s Harry.

Ron Weasley is the third part of that particular Trio, but Draco doesn’t like him, just as much as Weasley doesn’t like him, so they mostly ignore each other.

“Draco,” Harry’s lips quirk when he catches sight of Draco sitting in front of the merepeople again. Draco’s speaking to Agnes, who’s by far the meanest mereperson, but Draco likes her anyway. “You know I’m your prefect, don’t you? You shouldn’t let me catch you up this late.”

Draco pouts lightly, rubbing at his eyes and turning back to Agnes.

“You’re up, too.” He says. “Wouldn’t it be hypocritical of you to give me detention over it?”

“I’m allowed to do things you’re not,” Harry says. Agnes makes a face and leaves, because she doesn’t like other students, and Draco slumps against the glass. He’s exhausted.

Harry sits beside him, and Draco’s heart flutters.

“What were you talking about?” He asks. “Romance?”

Draco hums. “No, I tried that once. The merepeople’s only advice on that seems to be ‘drown them’.”

Potter laughs, and Draco does, too, even if he’s not joking. He did try it once, and Agnes’s advice was, in fact, drown him.

“Yes, best not follow that advice,” Harry says. He’s always been kind to Draco, but, much to Draco’s annoyance, seems to view him more as a little kid than a romantic interest. “You should go to bed. You look exhausted.”

“I’m not tired, mom.” Draco rolls his eyes, and Harry’s smile fades.

“Are your roommates giving you trouble again?” He asks.

Draco’s dorm mates especially don’t like him. Draco half understands it; he keeps them up too much of the time because of experiments, and he’s half-blown up their dorm more than once. Luna showing him the room of requirement had solved many of his problems.

“You don’t need to step in for me,” Draco says, giving him a look. “They already think I’m a coward.”

And he’s not, he’s really not. He just - he has better ways to spend his time than fighting, and, in his experience, fighting back only makes the fight longer, so if he just takes it and waits for it to be over, the sooner he can get back to what he wants to do.

“I know you’re not,” Harry says. “And I’m your prefect, I am supposed to step in for you.”

Draco shakes his head. “It’s alright. They’re not - it’s not that.”

It is, a little bit, but also Draco generally just sleeps like shit. Even back at home, he falls asleep at the sofa reading more often than he falls asleep in his bed; it drives his mum mad.

“Then what is it?” Harry asks gently.

Draco gives him an annoyed look. “I am way too tired for this shit, Potter.”

Harry smiles at him, and it’s much kinder than Draco can deal with. He looks away, face flushing.

He is sure that, by now, everyone knows of his crush on Harry. He thinks even Harry knows of his crush on Harry, but he’s always been kind about it. He’s never even mentioned it to Draco, and he’s elbowed Weasley when he laughs at the way Draco’s face goes red when Harry touches him.

“Alright,” Harry sighs. “But you need to get some sleep.”

“I’m fine,” Draco says. The effect is ruined when he yawns and rubs at his eyes.

Harry shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Come on, everyone needs to sleep. Do you want me to walk you to your dorm?”

“I’m fine,” Draco insists. “I’ll just stay here a bit, read a little.”

“Draco Black, I am warning you-”

“I just want to-”

Harry stands and picks him up. Picks him up.

“Harry!” Draco yelps, grabbing Harry’s shirt tightly.

“You forced me to do this,” Harry tells him as he carries him towards his dorm. Draco doesn’t lose his flush nor his grin for the rest of the night.

*

“He picked me up Luna!” Draco whisper-yells. “Picked me up!”

“That’s nice,” Luna smiles airily. “I’m glad.”

Draco chews on his lower lip, eyeing the pages of Blood Magic and Curses quickly, trying to find what he’s looking for; it’s a restricted section book, and he checked it out with a note from Snape. 

It’s forged - Draco’s good at it, and he does it often - and he uses Snape because he’s the only professor Madam Pince is too scared to talk to, so she won’t ask him why he’s giving one of his students so many notes to check out books from the restricted section.

“It’s just-” he says. “That’s got to mean something, right? He wouldn’t just do that if he didn’t know-”

“Hey Luna,” A voice says. “Hey Black.”

Ginny Weasley walks past them, and Luna waves with a dreamy look on her face. She’s had a crush on Ginny for almost as long as Draco’s had a crush on Harry, and they’re both pathetic about it.

“Hey,” Draco says, because Luna doesn’t answer. When Ginny walks away, he turns to Luna. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I couldn’t,” Luna says sadly.

Draco face palms.

“Hey Draco!” Hermione says.

Draco straightens immediately, because Hermione can only mean-

“Hello,” Harry says, green eyes shining when he looks at Draco.

“Ferret,” the Weasel smirks. 

“Weasel,” Draco says. “I was going to ask what happened to your face, but I remembered ‘unbelievably stupid’ seems to be your permanent expression.”

“Ha,” the Weasel says humorlessly. His lips twist. “Get over your crush on Harry yet?”

Draco’s entire face is burning.

“Ron!” Hermione says.

Everyone is quiet, unbelievably awkward, and Draco can’t look at Harry at all. Fuck.

“Researching blood magic?” Hermione says, desperately trying to change the subject.

“Yeah,” Draco says, looking at his book and only at his book. “I - it’s an interesting subject.”

“It is,” Hermione agrees.

No one says anything more, and then Hermione speaks again.

“Well, I think we’d best be going,” She drags the other two away, and Draco hears Harry speak.

“Ron, I told you not to-” And he can’t hear the rest of the conversation, because he buries his face in his hands, mortified.

“Do you want me to curse Ron?” Luna asks empathetically. “I can send Nargles his way.”

“I’d like that,” Draco says, muffled.

———————————————

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#drarry #fanfic #mine

[cowboy]

what are your like top 10 oM songs?

this is SUPER hard to answer so I’m gonna try to be accurate but this also changes very often. but also I’m just gonna go with my long term favorites. in no particular order bc i don’t think i could put one as number one

1. anyway just kidding my number one of all time is Party’s Crashing Us no contest. this is because it was the first song i ever heard of theirs, and I really only had heard sunlandic twins because it was the one my sibling played the most. (I started liking oM because of my sibling lol). It just makes me so happy and sad at the same time it’s such a beautiful song. I only feel alive when the vus flashing.. alarms going off in my heaaadd.. i wanna grab you and just kiss you maybe i should sit down no sense in cashing us nowww..... the partys crashing us nowww....

2. okay from now on actually in no particular order, an elurdian instance is still one of my favorite songs, and the one people tend to say is a “very me” song. although it’s really hard to choose off of skeletal lamping bc that used to be my favorite album of theirs for like a couple years. anyway it’s such a nostalgic song.. the bit about the mountain goats and the last summer as independents and stuff always makes me so ;_;

3. we will commit wolf murder I swear to fucking god it’s SO good. I’m considered ugly from every angle... youre the only beauty i don’t wanna strangle... the lyrics are beyond amazing and like his voice is so soft and he doesn’t overdo the falsetto (though his falsetto is always good). and i dont even dislike the weird ending which i usually do (he overdoes it on this album too but im aware shes just that kind of girl and has to do the weird artsy instrumentals). good fucking song

4. speaking of paralytics stalks, what an UNDERRATED ALBUM. I LOVE dour percentage. “this planet is an orphanage” is such a good line also his falsetto here is extremely good. i love singing to this song. he also wrote it about a friend breakup which i love and well it’s just a good song. I’m also gonna have this be a tie with malefic dowery which has a similar vibe; so soft and singable...

5. ok paralytic stalks again maybe but spiteful intervention is easily possibly my second favorite song of theirs. the beginning makes me acutlaly insane. i used to listen to it at 5 AM on my way to work on the freeway and hearing him say “oh god the morning light, sunrays bring my paranoia, I CAN’T FUNCTION UNLESS I’M THE ONLY ONE -- AWAKE” literally unlocked something inside of me. SUCH a good song

I’m manic right now

6. faberge falls for shuggie thank you very much. hissing fauna used to be my favorite album for a very long time and the intro to this song would just live in my mind forever. i love his screaming/yelling and weird voice in this one. he’s like speaking to himself in it (did shuggie do it yet? no. not yet) and i love when he does that shit. the instrumentals are so good. and the scream bit at around 2:00 is so delightful.

i’m starting to realize i don’t actually know my top ten favorites and i have like top 20 actually. this is hard

7. i have to add in some satanic panic of course, so climb the ladder is on here. he has such a sweet little gift for making such nice love songs. i also love lysergic bliss of course but i think a lot of the songs off that album are so underrated including this song. wahh

8. sleeping in the beetle bug!! such a delightful tune and i love the key it’s in. i love cherry peel. the lyrics are so funny and the breakdown in the song is great. he is so good at guitar man

9. stag to the stable is my #1 lyrical depression song what a GOOD song to have a little breakdown to. rune husk is such a sexy EP too. i want the cover on a shirt

i’m extending this to 12 songs i really dont care sorry

10. Empyrean Abattoir. this album is an underrated basic rock album of his but this song in particular does something to my brain... the breakdown is also super good on this. when he transitions between the softer mellower parts into the yelling... the beginning is still my favorite part though . TBQH

11. feminine effects is such a sweet little song and the “bobby baby” makes my heart go SOFT so so so soft. i dont know who the vocalist is but I LOVE her voice. i think shes the one on lousy with sylvianbriar as well? is that nina?? anywho. WAIT SPEAKING OF NINA shoutout to heimsdalgate like a promethean curse i love that line. dancing to this song live is like crack to me. i shout the lyrics every time

12. tie between triumph of disintegration, imbecile rages, and raindrop in my skull off of lousy. what a great country-esque album. i always listen to it when i’m chillliing. raindrop in my skull is one of my favorites because the aforementioned singer has such a nice voice.

(shoutout to miss blonde your papa is failing for being the saddest fucking song of all time)

okay so the rest of his albums are pretty poppy and i love pretty much all of them (except ur fun . ur fun sucks) but there arent top 10 favorites on them really. i will say i love IFSWYT and i think there are some songs that might become a top 10/20 song if i get more time with them. well anyway. sorry for the ranting but i love all these songs so much. god bless

#asks #of montreal #long post #Anonymous

[artxyra]

Another DC TA Marinette | #2

*So I’m still not good at fighting sequences, so if the fight scene towards the end seems off and not quite right, I’m sorry. Also if you asked to be tagged and don’t see your name please tell (DM) me so that I can add you to the next part. I’m aiming for at least 5 parts for this version, so we shall see how this will go. 

Part 1 | Part 2 (here) | 

Part 2: Dupont Meet Gotham 

Caline was very, very sorry for her class. They haven’t been in Gotham for a single day and Lila’s already causing trouble. The trouble that cannot be fixed if something goes wrong here. There was no Hawkmoth to save her or to validate her emotions. It was no secret that Caline has Marinette on speed dial, but she knew how much the graduate loves her time away from this class. Maybe it was best to bring Marinette in and give the class a shock, but it may be too late for that. 

“No, no, I’m Damian Wayne’s girlfriend, there must be a special or something for your boss’ heir.” Lila tries to spin her web of lies to the barista as the class gathers around at a nearby cafe. 

The barista stares boringly at the Italian native waiting for her to make up her mind and order already. 

“Look girly, you’re holding up the line. We don’t do specials for Wayne’s here, and if you’re truly Damian Wayne’s girlfriend then you would know that.” The barista states gesturing to the long line full of Dupont’s students and actual customers.  

Lila’s eyes began to get teary-eyed, “I will have you know…”

“Lady, if you don’t order something in the next five seconds, you will be kick outta here.” The barista firmly states glaring at Lila with no room for negotiations. 

Lila scoffs and runs into Alya’s waiting arms, crying her eyes out. Alya glares at the barista, who gave zero fucks about what just happened and takes the order of the next person. 

“Shh...everything will be okay, Lila. Besides, don’t you have that date tonight with your boo?” 

Lila sniffles a laugh and nods. Oh, how she has them deeply entangled in her web. “Then let this one incident go and let’s go out the strip, you can spend some of my earning for ice cream or something.” 

Caline along with everyone (meaning two people, maybe four people) in the Marinette protection squad could do is either roll their eyes or shake their heads. 

Chloe with her coffee in hand scoffs at the scene in front of her and looks over to Adrien. “At least she’s not hanging onto you every second of the day.” She jokes remembering the times when Lila’s lies were small and surrounding around the Agreste name. 

Adrien softly groans, “Don’t remind me. For she had to be my date to one of my father’s fashion shows which were quite weird considering that I was already with Luka when it happened.”

“Yeesh,” Chloe grimace at the thought of that situation. Her phone buzz signaling an incoming message. It’s from Marinette. 

“Bug is texting. I’m surprised she didn’t send it to the group chat.” Chloe states before taking a sip of her drink and opening the message. 

Multi-Bug: Hey did you get to Gotham, alright?

Melitta Bee: Yea, y weren’t u w/ us?

Multi-Bug: You’ll see why soon ;)

Multi-Bug: Anywho, how’s the class goin?

Melitta Bee: Gettin worse by the min

Multi-Bug: It will be good soon 

Chloe scoffs at the message and shakes her head. “Bug will be the death of me., literally.” She groans opting to not reply to the message. 

“What did she say?” Adrien asks keeping a firm eye on Lilia, looking to see if she does anything stupid to get them killed. 

“You know how cryptic she can be. All I got from that was that everything will be fine. Like how she’s going to get here? Seriously, this trip is utterly ridiculous, ridiculous.” Chloe vents to the model. 

Adrien nods, but then quickly nudges Chloe seeing that Lila is heading there way. 

“Oh look, trouble.” Chloe jokes as Lila stands very close to the two blondes. 

“Do you always complain about stuff, Chloe. I only came here to befriend you seeing that Mari isn't here to corrupt you.” And there goes the dramatics. 

“The only thing that is corrupted is you and this fucking class.” Chloe turns around, grabbing Adrien’s hand, and walk out of the cafe. 

Chloe B. @queenbeeyellow Hey, wish @mdcfashion is here with us. It’s boring here w/ only @adrienagreste

Attach is an image of Chloe and Adrien in front of the cate wearing sunglass and making funny hand gestures towards the camera. It was clear that it was a selfie. 

----------------

Marinette smiles at the tweet before returning her attention back to the Headmaster of Gotham Academy, Mr. Collingwood . 

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, where are your key cards for access to the building of both here and to your class’s residential stay. Will you be joining them at the hotel or be staying with Mr. Wayne?” 

“I’ll be staying with Mr. Wayne, Mr. Collingwood .” She answers with a soft smile. 

The headmaster nods and leans back into his chair. 

“I’m I required to participate in class sessions as a student or am I just there to observe?” It was an honest question seeing that she is the teacher assistant rather than a student.

“That would depend on your class’ homeroom teacher. It is most likely that you and that teacher’s T.A. would work together and demonstrate whatever projects are and hand out paperwork.” He answers clasping his hands together as his focus remains on Marinette. 

Marinette nods and takes the small stack of supplies into her arms.   

Marinette: I have gotten everything ready

Marinette: Everything should be set for Monday. I’ll see you then. 

Mme. Bustier: Oh thank you, Marinette. 

Mme. Bustier: Your classmates will be ecstatic to know that you’ll be here. 

 Marinette: I doubt that.  

Caline Bustier closes her messenger app and turns to the class and gasps. The core Lila group is missing. No longer in the cafe, just great, great. They barely know their surrounding area despite what Lila said about being here, but if that was true it wasn’t recently. Places change and Gotham is no different. 

“Chloe, Adrien, do you know where the core group went?” Caline asks, turning her attention to the two blondes drinking, perhaps coffee, maybe even tea. 

Chloe shrugs while Adrien shakes his head unsure how to answer. It was no secret that the dislike the Lila group. 

“First day here and I’ve already lost some teens.” Caline huffs and walks out of the cafe to find her so-called perfect students. 

“Did she look panic to you?” Adrien asks setting his drink down. 

Chloe nods, “Should we go help?” 

“It’ll lessen her panic attack later.” Adrien agrees as the two of them get up and follow their teacher. 

----------------

Tina @thepinkmistress  #anotherdayingotham so apparently Two-Face has a bunch of foreigners held at gunpoint. They’re officially now apart of Gotham

----------------

With Lila and her small crew of loyal followers, they were just stirring up trouble. It all started when Alya offered to take Lila out to the strip for shopping not realizing how dangerous it was to be. Well, it’s not like they cared. To them, this was a vacation with added on classes. 

“Oh, I can’t believe my Damibear texted me saying that he was excited that I was back in town. We can finally rekindle that long lost love we had.” Lila gossips about as the two were entering a nearby storefront. 

“Girl, you’ve waited long enough, let’s go prep you for your man,” Alya exclaims dragging the twin tail girl further into the store. Nino unsure why he is with them just sighs and looks for something to give to Alya as he wasn’t able to for their anniversary. 

“What do you mean, he doesn’t have a discount here?” Oh great, here we go again.

“Look, lady, Damian Wayne may be a big name here, but we don’t do discounts for people like him.” The store attendant spoke up about rubbing her hands against her face. 

“Surely, he would have a tab open or something. He knows this is one of my favorite stores to shop in when I’m in town.”  

“Uh...we just opened our stores, like, two years ago. That and we’re strictly located here and in Metropolis.” 

Lila pouts and begins to throw a fit. If only, Hawkmoth was here. 

“Girl. I sure this is some kind of mishap. I’ll pay for the clothes and then we can go sightseeing in this part of town.” Alya offers, showing her a credit card in her hand. 

Lila squeals and jumps into Alya’s arms. Little did she know that it was actually Nino’s credit card instead of Alya’s. Alya’s parents were very concern about their daughter’s spending habits and put a cap on it that she clearly maxed out before the trip. 

Ivan walks over to Nino seeing as the poor DJ was lonely and that Mylene was trapped in the web of lies, well he is too, but he hides it well under the impression that it’s to make Mylene happy. 

“You okay?” Ivan asks catching the Dj’s attention. 

Nino grunts and shakes his headphones off. “No--yes-maybe, I don’t know.” He admits staring off to the empty space that was his girlfriend and her best friend. 

Before Ivan could answer, a loud scream can be heard from outside the store. 

“Shit, do not leave this place.” The store attendant gasps, only to be ignored by the remaining students of Dupont. The store attendant sighs and ducks behind the desk. 

“Lila!” Alya screeches. 

----------------

Miraculously Safe GC:

Melitta: How quickly can you lose a spider?

Ryouko: Quick why? 

Musical Viper: That depends, when did you see the spider? How big was it? 

Melitta: Mme. B lost the spider and her trapees 

Multi-Bug: WHAT!!!

PunNoir: Yeah, she lost them so now we’re out searching for them. 

Melitta: It’s not like they went that far?

Multi-Bug: You’re in Gotham, crime central, and she lost some students!!! 

Ryouko: I’m sure everything will be fine, Bee. 

Musical Viper: Keep your eyes open, Punn, if things do go wrong we’re only a plane ticket away.

Melitta: SHIT!! Lila started up another mess. 

Muli-Bug: WHAT!!!

Chloe and Adrien quickly hide their phones and disappear behind a building, hoping that the shadows cover them from the watchful eyes of Two-Face and his minions. 

Mme. Bustier apparently didn’t get that message and wounded up wrapped into the mess her students have caused. 

Two-Faced stares menacing at the teens as his men surround the group all at gunpoint. 

Lila being the idiot she is started crying how her Damibear would pay him, save her even. The man was not swayed.  

“Clean, we shut the girl up; scarred, we kill her right here and now.” He murmurs drawing out his lucky coin to do his bidding. “However, we don’t have much time. That bats would be here any minute.” 

As Two-Face explains his plan to his men, one of the guns goes off. Everyone shrieks in terror. Alya stares, frozen as her phone lays died with a bullet hole on the ground. Blood seeps through her hands. 

“Boss, she was filming us.” One of the henchmen explains with steam oozing out of his gun. 

“Dumb girl, did she really think it was smart to film right in front of us. At least be like every citizen here and do it in secret.” Two-Face groans, gesturing for the men to fire a new round. 

Everything freeze, while Lila screams her head off naming off every possible hero she could think of. 

----------------

Marinette runs through the city at a hasty pace. She’s maneuvering her way through the large crowd of citizens all trying to get away from the lastest villain attack down near the shopping strip. Marinette comes to a barreling stop. 

She could hear the cries of Lila Rossi from a block away and it was painful to hear. Her naming every hero only to get knocked upside the head by one of the henchmen. This will not look good for the exchange program in the future. Mme. Bustier tries—and fails—to negotiate with Two-Face.

Two-Face keeps playing with his coin deciding what misery he shall put these foreigners through just to grab the Bat’s attention. Then again would he even care, that just means new toys for him and his men. 

Marinette looks around searching for a distraction. Nothing comes up. She needs to think fast seeing as the Batfam and they are currently being held up. Not that the public needs to know that. She got it. Getting closer to the range. She then pulls out her traveling yoyo and readies a swing. 

Just as Two-Face flips his coin, Marinette throws the yoyo. 

The yoyo knocks the coin away, just as the string wraps around it as she pulls back. The Parisians students look up hoping to see a familiar hero in red and black. They saw no one. 

“Find my coin you fools and kill however took the dang thing.” Two-Face shouts out in a fit of rage. 

Marinette yelps and disappears around the corner. She finds Chloe and Adrien hiding spot not far from her. Unwrapping the coin from the string, she tosses it up into the sky and takes off before gunshots are heard near her way. 

“Thank god you guys are okay.” She pants out, scaring Chloe in the process as the Bee miraculous holder shrieks out and attempts to roundhouse kick the graduate. “Chloe! It’s me.” 

“Multi?” Chloe gasps out in shock as she finally takes in the appearance of her leader. Marinette wasn’t in her usual Paris getup but instead in a pair of black leggings, an over-the-shoulder tee with all the Batfamily emblems. Ankle boot thick heels, good for running. The biggest difference being her hair as it’s half up and half down with pink lowlights covering the once fully black, nearly blue hair. “Damn, hun, you look fine.”

Marinette chuckles, “I’m sure ‘Gami would love to hear you say that.” 

Chloe shrugs as Adrien comes out of his shocked stance. “Mari, what? How? When?” 

“At ease Chaton, I’ve been here in Gotham for the past few weeks. However, that is not our issue right now. The class is being held hostage by Two-Face, a villain with a mess-up sense of justice. An excellent attorney but he has a few loose screws. I bought the class time from being publicly executed for the Bats to get here. I just hope that they do it quickly. 

From the corner of her eye, Marinette could spot the familiar colors, that she very much hate but haven’t gotten the time to screech at them for, appearing on the rooftops of a nearby building. 

“Thank kwami, they’re here.” 

“Who’s here?” Adrien and Chloe chimes together. Marinette smiles at the two with a twinkle in her eyes. 

“Two-Face let the students go?” Batman demands, appearing on the scenes with little to no room for negotiations.   

“And where’s the fun in that, Batman?” Two-Face asks as a new coin is placed into his hand. It may not be the one that Marinette stole but it will do. “Clean says I leave, but scarred says I will kill every one of them.” He tosses the coin up. 

The coin lands in his hand, lifting his hand up it shows the scarred face of the coin. “Oh look at that, they’re dead anyway.” 

Immediately, the henchman readies there guns only for bat-a-rangs to knock them out of the out of their hands. 

“They never come alone do they?” Two-Face mutters as Robin and Nightwing jumps down into the scene. 

Robin with no hesitation attacks and disarm whoever comes his way. Batman could only facepalm seeing his son basically ignore the plan. Nightwing shrugs and joins in. This only left the big Bat and Two-Face at a stand-off. Two-Face readies his own gun and shoots a couple of rounds at the dark knight. 

It wasn’t long before the fight ends and the paramedics come in to help the injured students. Marinette motions for Chloe and Adrien to follow. She walks over to Robin with her arms folded against her chest. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” He whispers to her when she was in earshot. Marinette huffs and rolls her eyes before playing the average Batfamily fangirl. 

“Oh my god, Batman, you saved my class!” She squeals. Her voice catches the attention of her conscious classmates. 

“Marinette?!” They shout in disbelief as Mme. Bustier smiles in relief.  

The paramedics gave Mme. Bustier a slip as the class minus Aly and Lilia, both who are still in custody of the paramedics, run over to their missing classmate. 

Marinette quickly gives Robin a knowing look before focusing her attention on the class. 

It wasn’t long before she’s surrounded by an overwhelming amount of questions. So, now they care about her.. Yikes. Marinette turns to Chloe and Adrien for help. Chloe scoffs and shoves through the class. 

“Leave the girl alone, besides you just went through something most people would consider traumatizing but knowing us this is nothing compare to dealing with akumas.” 

Marinette smiles at Chloe.

The class disperses. 

“Maybe it’s time for us to head back to the hotel.” Mme. Bustier pipes up knowing full well that she’ll have to report this incident to the board under the predicament that it was due to Lila’s compulsive lying that put them through struggle. 

----------------

At the Dupont’s homestay--well it was more of a hotel than anything, Lila and Alya were ushered to their rooms while the rest of the class goes to comfort the two in the best way possible. While that was going on. Marinette decided to have a meeting with Caline about the issue. 

“She can’t be alone in this city.” 

“I know that, Marinette.”

“On a different note, I’ll be attending your class session at the academy.”

“That’s good, isn’t it? “I suppose, but it’ll be slightly harder to keep my status as a lycee graduate under wraps.” 

“You’re what!” The familiar sound of Chloe’s shrill voice echos in the room. 

“Hi Chloe,” Marinette meekly greets one of her best friends. 

“Don’t hey Chloe, me missy. When were you going to tell us that you graduate?” 

Caline took this moment to exit the room leaving the two teens to their demise. 

“Do you want the real answer or the answer that will satisfy you?” 

Chloe glares down at the teacher assistant. 

Marinette sighs, “I’ve been done with lycee since last quarter. Instead of making a big deal of graduating early, I volunteered to be a teacher assistant for the rest of the year while I start my university courses online.” 

Chloe looks down before hugging Marinette. “Thank you,” She whispers into the graduate’s neck. “You could have left Adrien and me to the spider but you chose not to. Thank you, Multi for everything.” 

Marinette blinks the tear away and returns the hug. 

Marinette left the hotel with the promise of catching up tomorrow when they have class. The only thing good that came through was that she didn’t have to deal with Alya or Lila that night, the next day, she wasn’t so sure yet. 

----------------

“That was really stupid of you, Angel, to get involve like that,” Damian states bringing his girlfriend into his arms when she’s safely located in his bedroom. 

Marinette giggles and kisses his cheek. “It wasn’t like I was directly involved., my Prince.” She whispers into his ear. A faint pink blush against Damian’s cheeks. 

“If it wasn’t for Robin and the rest, you could have been killed if Two-Face found out that it was you that took his coin.” 

“You know I’m stronger than what I look. Besides, I have better things to worry about than a villain that isn’t my foe.” 

Damian groans, “Angel, you will be the death of me.”

Instead of speaking, Marinette kisses him, allowing him to pull them onto the bed. 

“Use protection!” One of his brothers shout out, it was most likely Jason. 

“Kill him in the morning, when I’m not around.” Marinette murmurs before preceding with their original plan. 

----------------

The next morning, the Dupont class along with Marinette stands outside the booming gates of Gotham Academy. 

“I wonder if my Damibear is here, too. The last I heard he was overseas on a family vacation.” Lila blissfully wonders to get the reassurance from her loyal friends. 

Marinette rolls her eyes and looks to the person walking towards the gate. 

Manette @gothamsfashionsense  Hanging out in GA for the next couple of days. Does anyone want to join?

In the image attached is a photo of a coffee cup in one hand with the gates of Gotham Academy in the background. 

As of 12/9/19, the Tag List is CLOSED

Any asks before that will still be added. After that, I’m sorry but can follow my fic tags. 

Tag List: @virgil-is-a-cutie | @thejustmesimplyme | @mewwitch | @tamoni112 | @goggles-mcgee | @bb-basbusa | @mochinek0 | @schrodingers25 | @zalladane | @jessigurl-design | @constancetruggle | @tog84 | @shamefullove| @mindfulmagics | @scribblinggraveyard | @clumsy-owl-4178 | @captainmac6| @vivilakitty | @sonif50 | @mystery-5-5 | @emjrabbitwolf | @northernbluetongue | @crazylittlemunchkin | @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl | |@zebrabaker | @kuroko26 | @readinganawfullot | @thebananathatwrites | @urbanpineapplefarmer | @hypnosharkrebeldreamer | @zerotosiki | @poshplumcot | @luciferge | @mariae2900 | @minightrose | @theatreandcomicfreak | @thequestionablyhuman | @thepeacetea | @never-neverland | @sassydepression | @multishipper1needshalp | @actual-disaster-human | @queencommonsense | @novicevoice | @vgirl-10123 | @lunar-wolf-warrior | @dahjokester | @ur-average-reader | @dast218 | @gimme-more-caffeine | @reaperfeels | @interobanginyourmom | @elspethshadow | @my-name-is-michell | @redscarlet95 | @razzledazzle247 | @casual-darkness | @romanoff-queen | @7-sage-7 | @lily-codie19 | @two-faced-biatch

#daminette #marinette x damian #teacher assistant Marinette AU #teacher assistant au #maribat #dc x mlb #ml x dc #dc crossover #ml crossover #miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug

[okaybutlikeimagine]

really weird hc but i think steve never cries, like it’s not that he doesn’t want to he just can’t??? he’s filled with emotions and he knows he technically should be crying but he just can’t. But billy on the other hand, if you asked him he’d deny it but he cries all. the. time. when he’s angry. when he’s sad. when he’s stressed. when he’s happy and laughing. he just can’t control it.

This is such an interesting headcanon and I DEFINITELY agree!!!! I think it makes perfect sense!!

Bc the way I think about it, Steve’s life has been a lot more performative than Billy’s has, if that makes any sense? Like, I think of Steve’s parents and I think of the kind of terrible people who had a kid just to 1. Pass down the name and 2. Say they have the “perfect family”. Like, they toted Steve out for parties just like Daisy does in Great Gatsby and then they’d hand him off to the sitter or the nanny or the maid or whatever. They didn’t actually want to raise a kid and understand that kid as a person, they wanted a trophy to say: “See this? This proves our relationship is strong and our marriage was worth it.”

And then, in the background, before Steve would be dragged off to whatever private function he was being forced and dressed to attend, his mom would grab him harshly and tightly around his little shoulders and kneel down to look him right in the eye and say: “You behave yourself, understand? There are going to be very important clients there and if you bother us while we’re working, you’re going to be grounded for a whole week. No, two. No toys, TV, nothing. You hear me?” And just imagine a little Steve, about age 5, blinking owlishly at his mom and nodding his head bc of course he can hear her, she’s right in his face, but the only thing he knows about “clients” is that they make his parents yell at each other and that they’re the reason his parents never read him bedtime stories or tuck him in at night

 And I really don’t know a whole lot about like… the lives of the rich and famous, but I just can’t help but imagine Steve’s parents going to parties with the other “elite” in the area. And I use the term “elite” loosely bc i mean… let’s face it…. They still live in Hawkins. They’re definitely rich but it’s not like they’re rubbing elbows with high society over here. They’re the kind of rich, snobby, stuck up people who think they’re better than the people they share a community with. It’s the reason they’re not home very often: they hate being reminded about the fact that they haven’t moved out of Hawkins.

So they go to lots of rich, stuck up parties. And they hold Steve up like a trophy to their friends about how they have a kid already and “where’s yours, Patricia? Oh, don’t have one yet? Are things alright with you and Greg? Oh, just wondering, because if you don’t have a kid yet, well…. Maybe something’s wrong at home…”

and so Steve, with fresh threats swimming in his mind, stands there and smiles and takes all the cheek pinches and head pats even though he’s only a child and is about to fall asleep on his feet because they’ve been walking around meeting people for hours and the other kids won’t play with him because they think he’s “boring” or “stupid” or “poor” (which doesn’t make sense to him bc he’s the richest kid in his preschool as far as he’s aware. He figures the preschools must be different here.) so he puts on a mask even for the other kids. He pretends he doesn’t like playing in the mud or collecting bugs or making jokes about boogers. He puts aside acting like a kid to act like these kids just so he can play with them. Sometimes it works.

And so I think he learned not to cry at a very young age. Honestly, i dunno if you’ve heard about it, but I’m channeling The Who’s Tommy over here. Like, the whole “kid is threatened not to speak about this thing, that he didn’t see this thing, and that he didn’t hear this thing and thus goes deaf, blind, and mute”. And obviously a little less dramatic than that, but Steve’s always been told not to cry. When he would cry he’d get punished. It’s like a weird Pavlovian effect. Ever since he was a kid he was asked to put on a show for everyone, told not to pout or whine or cry, and now he just…. Can’t. He almost fears it. He hears his parents threats, even now at the age of 18, and smiles and laughs rather than cries. And sometimes he cries… that night that Nancy called him bullshit and told him she didn’t love him he went home and ripped a blanket she had (apparently lovelessly) gifted him and broke his lamp and accidentally sliced his foot on the glass of the lightbulb…. and cried and… and it felt like failure. It was only a couple of tears, hot and angry and rolling slowly down his face and he let his throat catch fire as he held everything else back. He was angry with himself at that point, more than anything. He looked himself in the mirror and heard his father’s words of “A Harrington never cries. Are you a true Harrington?” and sucked it all back in and did whatever he could to take his mind off of it, even though everything he did always ended with him fuming about the words over and over again and caused him to end up punching pillows and angrily drinking all the beer out of the fridge.

But Billy’s different.

Billy is a volcano. A volcano of every single emotion you can think of. He experiences them all violently and viciously and they take over his system until his body physically can’t hold back from crying. We SEE him cry multiple times in the show!!! And i like to think it’s bc rather than be toted around, he’s been locked in. where Steve’s parents drag Steve around to different social functions, Neil locks Billy up so he- and no one else -has to look at him. Steve is forced to be around others and put on a mask and Billy is forced to be alone, with just himself and his thoughts. He doesn’t need to mask himself when he’s alone.

And that’s not to say that Billy doesn’t also put on a show for others- because he most definitely does. I think a lot of what he does is performative bc he feels he needs to and his thought process for it lines up with Steve’s for himself: he’s just not good enough. He wasn’t good enough for his mom to stay, he wasn’t good enough for his dad to love in his mother’s absence, he wasn’t and isn’t good enough for anything. So he puts on a show of this big tough guy and he manipulates people and he calls it entertainment.

And this isn’t to say that he didn’t get yelled at for crying, either! Bc he definitely did. He’s gotten hit a few times for tears in his eyes but it was always followed with being locked in his room and being told that he was “embarrassing to watch”... and in the four walls of his room he cried more. Bc growing up, the one thing he found relief in was being sent to his room or even having his room in the first place: it gave him a space to be alone and let his emotions out. And he never tried to, his body always just did it for him. Bc crying is often a very visceral thing, and also a very natural and very human thing. It releases chemicals in your body to help soothe you and lord KNOWS Billy needs to soothe himself bc once his mom left, no one did it for him. His body realizes the emotions that aren’t being sorted and his mind knows when it’s safe (when he’s alone, when Neil’s turned and walking away, when no one can hear) and it cries. I just imagine Billy on constant vibrate, brimming with emotions and filled to the edge with too many things with everything with all of it and he just cries because there’s so few outlets for him. His body has grown accustomed to taking care of itself in that way. And so when he’s had too much (and the threshold on some days if very small), he rushes to his room and slams the door and as soon as it’s latched he’s near drowning in tears bc he needs release.

And let me tell you- it freaks the fuck out of Steve.

Because like you said, Steve just doesn’t cry. And the first time Billy and Steve have sex, Billy cries as he orgasms and Steve freaks. out. He thinks he did something wrong and he’s fretting over Billy and his heart is racing and he’s fighting with himself about if he should hold Billy’s face or step about 5 feet away from him because holy shit what happened??

And Billy feels like an idiot but there’s no stopping his body because he’s so overwhelmed by feeling so good and it’s been a long time coming for him and Steve and after all of that anger and animosity between each other, it was just too much and he cries. And he punches Steve while he’s crying, trying his best to growl but hiccuping around the words instead as he says: “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m so sorry Billy, holy shit! What do I do?!” 

“Go get me a tissue, you dumbass!”

And he’s sniffling and blows his nose loud and Steve is in awe that Billy is still such a hardass even with tears running down his eyes.

And this happens a LOT. Every time Billy and Steve have sex, Billy tears up after he orgasms. It’s not always full on waterworks like the first time, but his eyes always water as he lays there with Steve, body lit up and hot like a fucking campfire, and he lays there and breathes and a tear rolls down his cheek and Steve has gotten so used to it that he leans over Billy and kisses the tear right at his cheekbone and whispers how beautiful he is. (and that usually makes Billy tear up even more, to which he shoves Steve with whatever strength he has left and tells him to shut his mouth)

The first time they tell each other “I love you” it’s the same thing. Billy whispers “I love you, too” and there go his tears. His chest heaves and he cries into Steve’s collarbone, gripping Steve’s shirt and Steve just kind of chuckles a bit and rubs Billy’s back and maybe cracks a joke about how he’s “such a sap” and Billy tilts his head so he can bite at Steve’s shoulder and make the boy yelp.

And the first time Billy catches Steve about to cry, he sees that the boy is about to run away. Bc he’s taken notice to the fact that Steve doesn’t cry and he hasn’t brought it up more than twice bc Steve is obviously anxious when he talks about it but Billy gets worried for him bc Steve always acts like he’s okay and Billy knows that’s not good. So when he catches Steve’s eyes watering and then Steve turning to lock himself away somewhere, he grabs the boy in the most forceful hug he can manage so that he can’t squirm away and hide himself and he says: “Don’t run away from me. Are you gonna cry?”

“Billy-”

“Then do it. You’re not a robot.”

“Billy stop I-”

“You’re human, you fucking dumbass.”

“Don’t call me-”

“It’s okay.”

And that makes Steve’s chest heave. He sucks so much air in he squeaks and his chest pushes against Billy’s own and Billy grabs tighter and nuzzles his head into Steve’s neck and whispers.

“You’re safe, Pretty Boy.”

And he stands there and he lets Steve cry. Lets himself be whatever physical and mental support Steve needs as he finally, finally let’s his body take over and just cries.

#ask #anonymous #billy hargrove #steve harrington #angst #hurt #comfort #harringrove #sorry this is a little off/weird #I'M feeling a little off/weird #i've been in a really bad headspace recently #but i really wanted to write something and i wrote this really quickly and.... yeah #♥ #sorry this took a billion years to answer #i swear i'm gonna get to all my asks guys #eventually #there are a lot of things going on and they're giving me nervous breakdowns

[let-it-raines]

your wonder under summer skies (1/?)

Summer in Storybrooke, Maine means one thing for its residents: tourist season. This year, for Emma Swan and Killian Jones, it means relationships ending and friendships changing all the while they attempt to figure out just what their relationship is. It’s somewhere straddling the line between friends and lovers, and there’s no guarantee of a soft landing if they fall into new territory.

rating: mature 

a/n: This is thanks to wanting a good, fun summer story to help ease some of the weight of the world off everyone's shoulders, if only for twenty minutes. I hope that you are giving yourself a mental break when you need it and that you still find things that bring you joy 💕

It’s not finished yet, so I can’t do a regular posting schedule. Instead, we’ll do those super fun surprise postings 😂Thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke​ for everything she does! 

found on ao3 | here |

-/-

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Oh, come on. You’re being ridiculous!”

Emma scoffs and crosses her arms over her chest. He’s got to be kidding. If not, she’s about two seconds away from losing her mind. Or punching him. one of the two. “Ridiculous? How the hell is this being ridiculous?”

“I’m working with my dad, Ems,” Neal sighs with a roll of his eyes. “You act like it’s the end of the world.”

He doesn’t get it. Oh my God, he really doesn’t get it.

After all of this time, how does he not?

“It’s not the end of the world,” Emma admits even as she grits her teeth, “but it’s also you going back on everything we agreed on! You’re not supposed to work with your dad. He’s into some shady as hell stuff. No one knows what it is, but we all know that most of it can’t be legal. No one lives in a mansion like that by owning a pawn shop in a town this size.”

“It’s family money.”

“Bullshit.”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“Because I’ve known you for five years, and you’ve lived in shitty apartments and driven even shittier cars for almost all of that time. But without fail, you get into a bind, go spend time with your dad for the two of you to “make up”, and magically you have money to fix everything. It doesn’t take a genius to put it together. For the past year, you’ve been in a nice car and haven’t struggled to pay for anything.”

Neal groans and turns on his heels, walking toward the kitchen before moving back and stepping closer to her. She takes two steps back.

“I work at a car dealership now, Ems. They give me a good deal.” He’s avoiding the conversation, and really, maybe she should do the same thing. Maybe it’s not worth having another fight with Neal over this. They have enough other problems without having to focus on this. Maybe she should just accept that this is how it is. “Maybe if you had parents to help get you out of a bind, you’d understand that there’s nothing wrong with asking for help.” He didn’t slap her, but there’s still a sting across her cheek.

What the fuck?

He did not just say that. Did he actually just throw her parents in her face like that? What kind of an asshole move is that?

It’s a Neal move.

And she’s damn tired of it. This isn’t how this is supposed to be. This is not how it’s supposed to be. In the back of her mind, she knows that, knows that she deserves better than this. It’s supposed to be like David and Mary Margaret or Ariel and Eric. It’s not…it’s not this.

It’s not someone she loves using her heartbreak against her.

Emma slaps Neal.

It’s hard, and it stings her hand in the aftershock, but it’s so damn satisfying that she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care that it was a dumbass decision and that Neal could retaliate sometime. It won’t get physical. She knows that. She also knows him well enough to know that things like this very rarely fly under the radar with him.

God, she’s been such an idiot to stay with him like she has.

Why does she keep doing this to herself?

“What the fuck?” Neal seethes as he drags his fingers across his face and spits at her feet. “What the fuck was that, Emma?”

“That was what you deserved for using my parents to hurt me, for working with your dad again, and for sleeping with the damn waitress at Granny’s.”

“I didn’t sleep with Ruby.”

He is an idiot.

But she’s the bigger one for staying with him.

“Ruby isn’t the only waitress at Granny’s.” Emma’s shaking with anger, unexpected sadness creeping up behind it and trying to overwhelm her, but she manages to step forward until she’s eye-to-eye with Neal. She doesn’t even know if she recognizes him anymore because there is no way this is the man she fell in love with. “Maybe next time you decide to fuck around, don’t do it with a woman who works in the same place as my best friend.”

He blinks, and she thinks it’s over. Hell, she knows that it’s over, but then he smiles. “C’mon, Ems. It was one time.”

Lie.

She knows it’s been more than one, and yet she’s still standing here.

Stupid.

So, so stupid.

“You and I both know I can tell when you’re lying.”

“You’ve always thought you had that superpower or whatever, but I’ve never believed it.” He gets even closer and tries to soften his smile, his boyish features becoming more prominent and is eyes filling with kindness. “She doesn’t mean anything to me. You do. I love you.”

Lie.

That’s a lie, too.

He wouldn’t do this to her if he loved her, right?

(God, she hopes that if someone loves her, they wouldn’t cheat.)

“Then you should have acted like it. We’re done. I’m not putting up with your shit anymore.”

“Ems – ”

“No. Just no.”

All she wants is to get out of there. This apartment is suffocating, and she’s in desperate need of air so her lungs won’t collapse. But she’s also got some of her stuff there that she doesn’t want to leave in Neal’s hands, so she walks back to the bedroom and grabs an overnight bag and starts stuffing her clothes and her books inside. She grabs everything that’s hers and hers alone as Neal follows her around giving pathetic excuses for everything.

He’s sorry, he says.

She doesn’t care.

(She does.)

He’ll be better for her, he says.

She doesn’t believe him.

(For a moment, she wants to.)

“Fuck you, Neal,” Emma says without any noticeable tone in her voice. That surprises her. She doesn’t know how she’s not shaking with tears. She reaches up and unclasps a necklace from her neck. It’s a damn keychain. She used to treasure it. Not anymore. “Maybe you can get some money for this at your dad’s shop. Or maybe you can give it to Tamara since you seem to like her so much.”

And then she slams the door behind her.

It’s an adrenaline rush she hasn’t experienced before. God, she should have. She’s been in this situation far more times than she’d ever admit to anyone else, but it’s never felt this final.

It’s never felt this good.

Oh shit.

She needs that air bow.

She can’t breathe.

All it took was five seconds for her to fall apart, and she will not cry in his hallway. She will not let him see her like this.

Neal did not break her, and Emma won’t let him think that he did.

(She won’t let herself think that, not again.)

So she jogs to her car, throws her bag in the passenger seat, and she drives until she can get her breathing under control. It’s difficult, especially when her throat keeps getting clogged up, but no tears fall from her eyes. Maybe she didn’t need to cry. Maybe she simply needed to get out of a suffocating environment.

How many years of her life did she waste on that asshole?

No, she won’t go there. She can’t. Where she will go is the beach because that’s apparently where she’s ended up driving.

How did that even happen? She must have zoned out and let her body take control. The fact that she didn’t crash on the way here seems like a miracle.

Emma turns the key in her bug, grabs her phone, and gets out of the car.

The beach is quiet, but it’s only the middle of May. Schools are still in session, and families haven’t started flooding in for their vacations. It’s weird, but it’s also the last moment of peace Storybrooke is going to have until October rolls around and the place is a ghost town again.

The highs and lows of living in a coastal town whose entire purpose is catering to people in the summer months. She should probably call Mary Margaret and make sure they’ve got all of the vendors set up for when families start sending their kids off to the two of them for the entire day. They also need to get permission to use the ballroom for the charity dinner for Storybrooke Children’s Shelter, but that’s months from now and they only need the ballroom if it rains. Focusing on that really shouldn’t be what Emma is concentrating on.

But then maybe it is. Because if she focuses on work and not her personal life, then maybe her personal life won’t seem so ridiculously shitty.

Who is she kidding?

Her personal life is probably the shittiest.

When she gets to the end of the boardwalk, she reaches down to take off her sandals and hold them in her hand as her feet sink into the softness of the sand. It’s warmer than she expected it to be, but she’s not going to complain as some of the stress of her day washes itself away as she watches the ocean water drift in and out, leaving white foam to sink into the ground.

It’s her favorite thing in the world.

Maybe that’s why she ended up here.

Emma sighs and starts walking, letting her feet get covered by the water with each step. She hasn’t done this in far too long. She’s not let herself spend her time outside, even for her runs, and she shouldn’t have done that. She should have gotten up early and come out here to run or taken her lunch break at one of the picnic tables spread across the sand.

She should have done more.

She also should have watched where she was going because without realizing it, she’s wandered half a mile down the beach from where she parked and is standing in front of Jones Boating.

Who is she kidding? This is exactly where she wanted to walk, and it’s exactly why she drove to the beach in the first place.

There’s no point in lying to herself over the decisions she’s making today.

Emma slips her shoes back on before opening the front door to the building. A little bell goes off as she walks in, and while she’s usually greeted, there’s no one at the front desk. But then she hears the clicking of nails, and all of the sudden Killian’s border collie is walking toward her.

“Hey, Skipper,” she sighs, leaning down to scratch behind his ears before he can jump up on her. “How are you doing? Good? Have they let you go out on a boat today, or are those bad men keeping you inside? Huh?”

“He went for a run this morning, love.”

Emma looks up from petting Skipper’s ears to see Killian standing with his arms folded over his chest and a brow raised. He’s got on a t-shirt and joggers, his feet only in socks, and he definitely hasn’t brushed his hair today. Killian Jones, the eternal early riser, is obviously having an off day.

Those must be contagious or something.

Though, her off day is definitely something of her own making.

Maybe if she could stop picking such shitty boyfriends…

“A run is not the same thing as going out on a boat. Not as much hair blowing and definitely more effort on his part.”

“He loves to run. I don’t think he was suffering.” Killian opens his mouth, but then it snaps shut, his eyes glancing over her body. “Is something the matter?”

Her heart absolutely does something unnatural. It’s probably been doing that for an hour now, and this is the first time she’s allowed herself to feel it.

Should she call a doctor? She’d probably get laughed out of the emergency room.

“No, I’m fine.”

Killian clicks his tongue. “I don’t believe you, Swan, but your personal life is your own.”

Oh, he is so not letting it go, and they both know it. He’s waiting for the right time to coax it out of her, and they both know it.

She’s going to take the out, though.

“Why aren’t you dressed?”

“I have clothes on. I believe I’m dressed.”

“You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

“I promise I did not, mostly because I sleep in the nude.”

“Shut up,” Emma groans, getting up from the ground and patting Skipper’s head. “You don’t even have shoes on. You know what I mean.”

“Aye. I’m painting the back offices while Liam is at some city council meeting.”

“He’s so going to murder you when he gets back. He didn’t want those rooms painted.”

“They had wallpaper with fish on them. He will thank me later.”

“Yeah, after he murders you.”

Killian shrugs. “It’ll be worth it. You want to help?”

“You know, my day unexpectedly cleared up, so I’d love to help.”

“No work?”

“Not until around six tonight.”

“Then come on, Swan. Get one of the t-shirts from the closet, and you can do the trim work.”

“That’s the worst part.”

“But you’re so damn good at it, and my hand dexterity is not the same as yours.”

Emma rolls her eyes. He’s about to bait her with sympathy, and the two of them both know it. He won’t tell her what happened with his damn hand, not that she’s ever asked, but he will still play that card when he can.

Like he said, his personal life can be his own business when the time calls for it.

“I hate you. You don’t even paint with that hand, and I know you can still use a roller with it. You painted my apartment.”

“Semantics.”

Painting ends up being exactly what she needs. Killian’s got the radio blaring, the air conditioner on, wallpaper already removed, and she gets lost in focusing on making sure the white trim stays where it needs to be while Killian rolls blue up and down the walls. They don’t talk except for a few words here and there, and it helps Emma forget that she should be in the dark in her apartment eating ice cream or rage running on the beach or something.

That fish wallpaper really was horrible.

When they’re finished, they close up the paint cans, wash the brushes, and then Killian turns up the volume of the door alarm so he can hear if a customer comes in while they’re upstairs in his apartment eating lunch.

She really has to crash his place more often if he’s going to feed her, even if it’s just some leftover pasta.

It’s better than any leftover pasta she makes.

“Are you and Neal coming over Friday night?”

Emma’s fork hits her bowl, metal clanging against the glass. Killian is staring at her. She can tell. What she’s not going to do is look up at him to see that damn eyebrow raised again. Skipper is definitely sniffing Emma’s leg trying to get food. “I’ll be here. I don’t know about Neal. He’s, uh, possibly working.”

“Working? Since when does he work?”

That’s the question of the century.

“He works at the dealership. You know that.”

“I heard he was working with his dad again.”

She’s going to choke on her pasta. “Possibly.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“For fuck’s sake, Killian. What is this? An interrogation? Neal has his own life, and I’m not in charge of him.”

It’s Killian’s turn to drop his fork to his bowl, and she finally takes the opportunity to look up at him. No part of him is phased by her outburst. “Look, I’m no upstanding citizen, but you and I both know that you don’t like when Neal works with his dad because the entire town knows they are probably selling stolen goods they don’t register. There’s no way you’re okay with that since I have heard you rant about it time and time again.”

She’s not.

Not in the slightest.

There were too many times, too many close calls, where she almost ended up behind bars simply trying to survive by stealing Pop Tarts and small packets of peanut butter, and Neal and his dad have made a living by selling stolen goods and overcharging poor old women who think that the necklace they find is just like the one their husband gave them fifty years ago.

It usually is.

But Neal’s dad is so damn smart about it all that no one ever has any proof that he’s behind the thefts and the coverups.

Or he’s got the police in his pocket. That’s more likely even when there’s good guys like David on the force. He handles traffic stops, bar brawls, and chairs left overnight on the beach, so that’s not exactly the same jurisdiction.

How the hell did Neal fall back into it?

Probably the buy his mistress gifts. He was always a fan of that when they first got together.

Or maybe he did actually get that money from his legitimate job.

It’s not her business anymore. It’s not her life. He can do whatever the fuck he wants and fuck whoever he wants. He was already doing those things anyways.

“As far as I know, Neal is still just selling cars,” Emma lies. “Why are we getting together Friday night anyways? I have to get up early Saturday to make up for the lost time at work, so it better be more than pizza and beer.”

“I have an inclination that Liam is proposing to Elsa that afternoon, and then we’re having a party here afterward. He hasn’t said, though. I’ve just seen the ring in his sock drawer and he suggested a party.”

Oh wow. That’s…that’s really happening. Emma’s kind of fallen down on keeping up with Elsa, and she makes a mental note to text her. Elsa’s always been good at letting Emma fade in and out, and she appreciates people like that, especially since Emma doesn’t always want to hang out at the apartment with Liam.

There’s nothing wrong with him, but she gets this weird feeling that he can’t stand her. But he loves Elsa, truly loves her, and that’s all that matters. It’s not like she’s the one dating Liam.

“No shit. They’re getting engaged?”

“They do love each other. Engagements tend to happen.”

“Yeah, yeah I guess they do. So, what are we having to eat that night?”

“Pizza and beer, but everyone’s got to bring their own beer.”

Emma flicks a piece of pasta at Killian, and the idiot manages to catch it in his mouth before obnoxiously chewing it with an obnoxiously wide grin on his face.

“We’re also going to have cake. Liam put in an order at the bakery.”

“Why do you know so much about your brother’s life?”

“He’s not very sly.” Killian smiles, his eyes crinkling. He really needs to shave. His beard has gotten a little too long. “So, you’re coming?”

“Yeah,” Emma sighs, “I’ll be there if you buy my wine.”

“I’ve already got it stocked, darling.”

-/-

-/-

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#your wonder under summer skies #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Girls Just Want to Have Fun

It’s always fun jumping into a movie I know next to nothing about, and this requested review for Wes will be no exception. All I know is that Girls Just Want to Have Fun is an 80s teen romp with the worst photoshopped cover photo I’ve ever seen. It looks like Michael Scott put it together. I know it stars girls, AND I know what those girls want. That’s half your narrative battle right there. So do they achieve the fun they seek? Well...

They do! A lot of weird shit happens along the way, but yeah, fun is had and that’s all that really matters. God, 1985 was a simpler time. I mean, I know everyone was living in constant fear that the Russians were going to invade Kansas and we’d be faced with a neverending nuclear winter, but in the face of all that existential terror you also get movies where the entire pitch is “So there’s this girl (Sarah Jessica Parker) who wants to be a dancer on tv, but her parents don’t want to let her. But she does it anyway! And her partner is chosen for her and, boy, they do not see eye to eye. But then they do! And they have to practice a lot. And then they win the dance contest!” 

You know some studio exec heard that and screamed at his secretary to hold his calls for the day so he could sign the contracts and then do a mountain of blow off them. 

Some thoughts:

It’s so weird to see Sarah Jessica Parker without curly hair! I was never a Sex and the City fan, so my exposure to SJP is purely Hocus Pocus based.

This dance sequence over the credits is incredible. Why do we not have shows anymore that are just a large group of young attractive people dancing in sync? No host, no dialogue, just the power of dance. I was born in the wrong decade. I would have appreciated the shit out of the 80s when I was alive.

Poor Helen Hunt - she must be one of those people who always looked like she was 35, even in high school. Granted, she was 22 when this was filmed and she’s playing a teenager, but still. 

Helen Hunt is wearing dinosaurs in her hair. 80s fashion was on a wavelength that I don’t think any of us living will ever see again.

Omg this rich bitch (Natalie, I guess? She’s not named for at least the first 30 min of the movie) had Claire’s closet from Clueless 10 years before the movie existed! This is already groundbreaking.

NOW SHE HAS A BUG ON HER HAT. A big plastic green grasshopper. This review is mainly going to be about the insane things Lynne (Helen Hunt) wears.

Speaking of - I’m getting big lesbian vibes from Lynne Stone and I am so here for it. The homoerotic tension when she acts like she’s gonna fight the rich bitch? Delicious. The immediate intimate connection she makes with SJP? Practically U-Hauling. 

I love an 80s dance montage, and this movie promises to contain basically nothing but that tied loosely together with some nonsensical dialogue in between. This is gonna be my new favorite movie. 

Ooh Nestle Quik syrup! I forgot about Nestle Quik. 

Favorite line: “There is a time and a place for calypso music, young lady.”

Ohhh I see what this is gonna be - Janey (SJP) is a classically trained dancer and gymnast, and Jeff (Lee Montgomery) is more of a rough and tumble music video kinda guy from the streets. You can tell cause he’s got a motorcycle and a leather jacket. And he wears cutoff sleeves! He’s a white guy in Chicago, who could be more street than that? And they’re butting heads! How will they ever be able to make it work for the big dance contest??

How did Natalie know Janey’s phone number? She specifically said it was unlisted. Unless she remembers it from overhearing it offhand after the dance tryouts...? That’s insane, I can’t even remember what I wore yesterday let alone a 7-digit number someone shouted in a crowd.

Lynne Fashion Alert: Is she wearing a belt made out of bullets? And a Davy Crocket hat. This is galaxy brain lesbian fashion. If the costume designer for this movie didn’t win 10 Oscars...

The music director on the other hand...not sure what is up with all these weird KidzBop covers of excellent songs like “Dancing in the Street” or the titular “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” but if you’re gonna include them, you gotta spring for the originals. This is just sad. 

I’ve never been at a party with an ice sculpture. I think that’s how you know you’re among the rich. 

Whatever happened to Jonathan Silverman? I miss when he was the nebbishy sidekick in every 80s movie. 

Who enters a party by catapulting through the damn window?? Punk does not mean that you no longer know how to use doors, sir! 

Who serves a full roasted turkey at a party? Is this how rich people live? This feels like the equivalent of using Google translate to identify rich people food in another language, then translating it back to English. 

Lynne Fashion Alert: Now I think she has space shuttles in her hair.

Wow we got a real 1-2 punch of sexual harassment in this club. Who wrote this Tune in Tokyo gag and was like “You know what would be hilarious? If this shitty little nerd convinced this girl to raise her arms so he can just grab her boobs full on, front and center. And then she gets upset and runs away. God I’m good at this *snorts another line*”

Lynne Fashion Alert: Now it’s two globes (like, two Earths) with crab claws on them? This is a choice that I don’t understand, but I think I may just not be seeing what it is clearly. I am digging her mirror sunglasses though. 

I know Janey is smart but when did she learn how to hotwire a security system? It’s not like Google or Youtube existed, and I doubt there was a library book about how to dismantle that specific system. MYTH BUSTED.

Oh god oh no I’m so gay for these Dixon sisters from Kansas City, these two gorgeous black women in tuxes and spandex leotards. They 100% should have won this dance contest. 

Why did guys stop wearing crop tops? Can we bring back slutty quarterback as a fashion trend for dudes? Seriously, the costume design here is everything. 

I really love Jeff and his little family - his sister and his dad are so proud of him and supportive. You never see that in dance narratives featuring guys. I like the reversal here of gendered expectations.

Did I Cry? No, but my heart was warmed at various moments. 

Honestly, why can’t more narrative arcs in movies be solved via dance battle? 

Lynne Fashion Alert: She’s now dressed as...Cleopatra? Wait why the fuck is there a horse here? 

Oh that’s it that’s the end! Man, you can’t be mad at a tight 90 min film like this - it gets in, it gets out, bing bang boom you’re done with enough time to read before bed. 

Is this a cinematic masterpiece? No. But is it good clean fun? Absolutely. Barring the brief [obligatory 80s] sexual harassment scene, there’s very little to be upset with here. Kids wanna dance, they’re told they can’t dance, they dance anyway! It’s the power of dance! You’re either into it or you’re not, but if you’re not, I ask that you search your heart and try to find one teeny tiny sliver of joy inside it. You’re gonna need to feed that joy if you wanna make it through 2021, and watching this movie is a darn good place to start. 

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

#121in2021 #girls just want to have fun #sarah jessica parker #helen hunt #lee montgomery #movie reviews #film reviews #patreon review

[kikyozoldyck]

crappy birthday

PAIRING: hidan x reader SUMMARY: your soulmate is shit at birthdays WARNINGS: swearing, violence, descriptions of murder, shitty poetry courtesy of hidan

You wake up on your birthday and don’t feel any different. You go about your daily routine like you do every other day because, as far as you’re concerned, today is like every other day. You’re hardly expecting chocolates because you have no significant other or even friends who might give you sweets to snack on, and even before the incident, you were hardly one to celebrate yourself, although you vaguely remember your parents throwing some ridiculous party for you every year, in fact, your last real, clear memory of them is the three-tiered, casino-themed birthday cake your mother made for you (and proceeded to bleed out all over later that same evening.) 

Oh, well. C’est la vie, and all that, right?

It’s a nice day, you notice once you’ve gotten dressed and wandered out into your kitchen. Not too cold, and certainly not too hot, with a nice breeze, perfect for enjoying a morning that cute little tea shop down the street, with some tea and scones and a book to keep you company.

It’d be nice to share it with someone, if you had anyone. 

(You do have one person, your mind supplies unhelpfully, you’ll always have him.)

You ignore that one, disgusting, traitorous thought in favor of grabbing a worn paperback off your shelf, tying your coat around your waist, toeing on your shoes, and opening your front door.

And then you stop in your track and stare. At the body. On your doorstep

“What the fuck, Hidan?” You swear to yourself, though, you can’t say that you’d be too surprised if the creepy fuck just happened to be close enough to hear it. 

And then Mrs. Sato from next door comes out, humming merrily under her breath as she locks the door behind her before turning to you.

“Good morning, dear. Such a lovely day, isn’t it?”

You smile back, just a little fixedly. “The loveliest.”

“Oh, well! Best enjoy it while it lasts!” Mrs. Sato bobs her grey head a few times and toddles past, stepping around the corpse, like it isn’t there. “Have a nice day, dear.”

“You too, Mrs. S.” You reply politely, finger tapping impatiently against the doorframe as you wait for her to disappear down the stairwell. Then you’re crouching down in the blink of an eye, every sense zeroing in on the body, and that’s when you realize, the body is still breathing.

And that means there’s definitely some weird, ancient, Jashinist ninjutsu involved because aside from the fact that your next-door neighbor didn’t so much as bat an eyelash as she passed, there’s also 1) a hole carved into the chest of the body, meticulously and precisely heart-shaped, just big enough for you to peer inside and watch the exposed organ beat, and 2) the body isn’t just anybody, it’s your childhood rival — Funai Yuka.

You stare for a moment longer, oddly mesmerized by the physical thump of the blood-red heart that you can both hear and see. It is so gorgeously delicate in this one moment, under your complete mercy.

Then, cautiously, you reach out and tug lightly at one tail of the intricately tied bow around Funai’s arms and torso, just below her breasts but above her bound wrists. It is also linked with a red ribbon.

And there’s a card tucked between Funai and the ribbon, one that you retrieve now. It isn’t anything fancy, note hastily scrawled on what looks to be the back of a soba shop receipt with a doodled version of Hidan, covered in Jashinist symbols and what looks like blood, handing a heart — the conventional symbol, not the organ — out to an equally crudely drawn version of yourself. 

You flip it over, and in a slightly messy black scrawl, the card reads,

This dumb bitch thought she was better than you so I Killed her to prove that Nobody is as hot as you P.S. Happy Birthday 

It isn’t signed, but you read it a second time, then a third. And then you laugh, bright and bold in the crisp winter morning, genuine and amused because you didn’t even know Hidan knew what a tanka was — let alone that he could write one.

You look down at Funai again, and it really is sobering to see her like that. Your mind travels back to your childhood, all those long days spent practicing your taijutsu in your parent’s yard in hopes of maybe surpassing her. 

She’d been your worst enemy sure, but she’d been your best friend too. She was the first person you told when you turned twelve, and Hidan’s name appeared on your arm. 

(“Just Hidan?” She’d sneered as you showed her, “hmph. Guess he’s not from any clan. Makes sense, an average soulmate for such an average —”

“—shut up, Bug Queen!” You’d interrupted, tackling her into the dirt, because the name on her hip was Torune Aburame, and everyone knows that the Aburame are total bug-fucking creeps.)

You realize that you’re still smiling when the memory fades. You can almost hear Funai in the back of your mind scolding you about how it’s bad practice for shinobi to show their emotions so freely. 

So, first thing’s first then.

You seize Funai by the throat and haul her inside, slamming the door behind you. Not a drop of blood spills from the open wound as you drag your friend onto your kitchen floor. The tile might have to be sacrificed to the cause, but you’ll just have to deal.

You pull the bow loose, and just like that the genjutsu breaks, Funai’s eyes begin to flutter. She goes from unconscious to fully awake in about three seconds. It’s honestly a little impressive, her memories clearly unaffected if the terror and the fury bleeding into her golden irises are anything to go by, but it’s already too late. 

You’re already rooting around your drawers for a knife clean and sharp enough to mercy-kill her with. She says something, but it’s muffled by the gag and all the blood in her mouth — though you know her well enough by now to know that it’s probably not happy birthday. 

Whatever it is, it’s too late anyway, because you’ve already sunken your entire hand into her chest, palm and fingers wrapped snugly around the rapid-fire recoil of your rival’s heart, by the time she can do anything more than fail at squirming away.

You sigh, because you’re sympathetic, really.

“If it’s any consolation, Bug Queen, you make a great birthday present.”

Then you rip her heart out with one smooth twist of your arm. That weird, old-world soulmate magic floods your system, running along your veins and imprinting into the very essence of your being, with a single glowing soul bond pulsing at the back of your mind and anchoring you to reality so that you aren’t overwhelmed.

--

(And you weren’t always like this, okay?

You used to be a normal person, with normal friends, and normal hobbies, and normal parents that loved you.

But on your twentieth birthday, you received a letter in the mail — the envelope was big and red, and it had the words ‘to my soulmate’ stamped on the front. You were so ridiculously excited.

When you opened it, it went off and destroyed the entire house and killed everyone inside, everyone except, well — you. 

You didn’t show the team of ANBU investigators the card that came a day later. 

It was a stick-figure drawing of your home blowing up with your friends and family inside it. Their bodies are scattered to bits over the page in a bloody mess with the words:

‘Sorry I couldn’t be there in person. I hope you liked the gift! :) Love you. — xoxo your soulmate’ scrawled hastily at the bottom.)

(After that, you begin to mark the calendar. It is a simple red X on a single day out of the year. There is no indication of what it is for, but you know.)

— A year later, you get home from a few hours spent at the training grounds, only to find an innocuous-looking briefcase leaning against the door of your apartment. 

Your heartbeat quickens, and you groan, stooping to pick it up, plucking up the card as well from where it’s slipped into the handle.

Another Hidan original, you note as you duck into your apartment and place the briefcase on the dinner table. 

The drawing is surprisingly minimalist considering Hidan’s usual style, it’s an artlessly drawn picture of you, butt-naked holding miniature globe in your poorly proportioned hands.

Is he gonna blow the whole world up this time? You think with a sigh and flip the card open. In the same sloppy handwriting as before, you read,

Don’t be a pussy. This is not a bomb, okay? You will like this gift.

You thumb the dark lettering before turning to the briefcase and opening it. It actually takes you several long seconds to realize what it is exactly that you’re looking at.

There are files inside, sheaves of papers tucked surprisingly neatly into folders, and—

You reach inside, where two passports are shuffled into one corner. 

One has your name, your personal information — all chillingly accurate. 

One doesn’t. 

Both have your face.

You set those aside, and with a sense of growing urgency, you fumble to open the folders and rifle through the papers.

They’re-

They’re identification papers. Two sets. One is fakes. But the other—

Hidan has restored your identity, you realize, and for a moment, you don’t even remember how to breathe.

(These days, you can get by. You have plenty of cash to use, so you don’t need a job, and so long as you’re not crossing country borders, you have no use for travel papers.)

But it also shackles you, the lack of an identity, walking around like a corpse.

Paying for Hidan's crimes, all these years, even now, as if almost burning alive and watching your entire family die and losing your goddamn mind weren’t enough to atone for the crime of simply having a soulmate.

And now…

You pick up another file with trembling fingers and flick that open. It’s a manuscript. It’s your manuscript, from when you were a writer, a really fucking good one—you might add, and despite having to always battle that hack Jiraiya for the spot on the best seller’s list, which honestly never made sense to you because your works were clearly better — but you suppose there's no accounting for taste, you enjoyed what you did, creating, building your stories.

And now you can do it again. A piece of what you’ve lost, returned.

And it isn’t even just that. The other set of papers – the fake ones – mean something too. It’s a way out, a new start if you ever want to leave. To walk away from this godforsaken country and begin anew. To not only lay your past to rest but also leave it behind so that it will never drag you down again. There’s one last file at the bottom, tissue-thin, and it only contains a single slip of paper.

It’s another note: “Sorry, I fucked up your life and shit. Won’t do it again. Happy birthday.”

— The next year, it’s another card, but only a card, with a classic birthday cake superimposed on a baby pink background. An invitation, with a time scribbled on the inside cover, but dead center on the right, a katauta,

I am running out of ways to show you that I love you lets fuck? (Couldn’t fit this in the katauta but I do oral.)

…The way that it makes your heart skip is ridiculous, and honestly, probably an indication of how fucking lonely you are. It’s not even remotely sophisticated, certainly no Henjo or Kisen. And yet…

Your face. Your face feels hot. God, you’re blushing. And your mouth is doing something funny. It takes a moment to realize you’re trying to pull a truly goofy smile. You’d probably never it live down if anyone else were there to witness it. You take a deep breath. Then you glance at the time one last time before pocketing the letter and heading for the bathroom. 

You have a night to prepare for because, apparently, your soulmate is a closet romantic.

— The door swings open, and you’re already smiling as you drink Hidan in. The man has grey hair slicked back with enough grease to start a forest fire and distinctive purple eyes. Still, they suit him, and when he smiles back, it reaches all the way to his eyes – like sunlight reflecting off whiskey, like sunsets when they spark with magic.

Wordlessly, you step back and let Hidan in. He takes a second to toe his shoes off – because he may be a murderous freak, but he’s still your soulmate, and it pays to be polite – but when he rises, he promptly crowds you right up against the nearest wall and kisses you for the very first time, hard and hungry and thorough.

A possessive hand sinks into your hair. Another pulls you close by the waist, and then you’re arching up into him, a twist of his hips sending sparks of pleasure darting across your nerves even as you open your mouth and let Hidan devour you.

The air is heady with the heat of your combined arousal by the time you part for air. Hidan’s lips are swollen red, and you’re both more than a little breathless. You’re not dry humping anymore, but Hidan’s hands remain cradled around your hips, and you’re absently tangling Hidan’s hair around your fingers. Your faces remain close enough that your noses brush.

Hidan’s eyes gleam like firelight as he peers at you, smug and satisfied, warmed by something softer.

“So, like, did all those fucking poems pay off? Do you, like, love me and shit?”

“Yeah. They did.” You smile, and your own words spill over Hidan’s lips, “I love you and shit.”

Hidan smiles and you feel the soul bond glowing bright and solid right down to the atomic level.

A new bond stirs between you, tentative, and fresh but already luminous with potential. Before you can blink, you’re being shoved against the wall again as Hidan flings his arms around you, laughing, laughing, laughing, joyous delight and overwhelming relief.  

#i wrote this while dying of mono so like keep that in mind if it's too feral #I FUCKIN HATE THIS #hidan imagines #hidan scenarios #hidan x reader