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acnelli · 3 years

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Hiding

This is my entry for the Hinny FicFest 2021 hosted by @clarensjoy. Thank you for organising it! There were so many lovely prompts to choose from and originally I wanted to write something really angsty for this one, but then decided to approach this in a much more lighthearted way.

Thank you @accio-broom for beta-reading! You are the best!

Prompt 2: Ginny gets sick and won’t admit it Rating: GA Pairing: Harry/Ginny Summary: Ginny had a bad day, including an unfortunate injury, which she tries to hide from Harry.

Also available on AO3 and FFN.

Ginny walked out of St. Mungo’s with a limp and a glare that would put Hermione’s cat Crookshanks to shame. The world was against her these last couple of days; she just knew it.

It had started with a horrendous loss against a team the Harpies were positive they would never lose to; the Chudley Cannons. The orange excuse of a professional Quidditch Team had beat them, and it wasn’t even a close match. They lost 590 to 120—an absolute disaster.

Of course, her insufferable brother had lost his mind, along with all the other Cannon fans in the stands. It had been the first time the Cannons won in what must’ve been years, which resulted in the players not even hearing the referee’s whistle, signalling the end of the game.

Ginny had given Ron the tickets to this match as a birthday present. As long as the Cannons lost every single time, and she could greet her brother with a smug grin, she was okay with Ron switching his Harpies jersey with her number on it to his orange Cannon one. This time though, Ginny found it nothing short of traitorous, and even her family, including Harry, had the gal to congratulate Ron. Her brother would make sure she would never forget this day, no matter how many times the Harpies would kick their arses in the future.

The Harpies, quite demoralised from their previous match, had shown up at training the next day, as usual. After a pep talk by their coach, the team had pepped up, flying different manoeuvres and acting out the strategies for their game against Ballycastle the next day.

Enjoying the wind on her face, as well as the feeling that only flying so high up in the air could provide, Ginny had forgotten all about their loss and solely concentrated on getting the Quaffle inside one of the three loops from every possible angle. She had been so engaged in training that she noticed the dangerous wheezing of the Bludger one second too late. Although she could dive away to avoid getting hit in the face, the ball collided with her left ankle, and the next thing she knew, she was lying on a stretcher as a medi-wizard treated her injury.

A broken ankle usually could be treated by the team’s healers, but the young man insisted on transferring her to the hospital as he suspected a more complicated fracture. And because it was Ginny’s lucky week, he had been right eventually.

The healer who treated her advised Ginny not to play against Ballycastle as the Skele-gro would cause a great deal of pain, and painkillers were strictly forbidden at Quidditch matches, especially pain-relief potion which had strong side effects, and therefore, were a danger to herself and others while on a broom.

Against the healer’s strongest protests, Ginny refused the skele-gro and asked the middle-aged woman to stabilize her ankle and give her some light painkillers that would wear off until tomorrow.

Ginny needed to play tomorrow. A few days ago, Oliver had tipped her off that the national trainers would be watching the game against Ballycastle, and there was just no way she would pass this chance to show them that she was the right choice to play for England. Even if they only let her join as a reserve Chaser, it would be her ticket to play international Quidditch.

While the discussion with the healer had been annoying but without any chance for the St. Mungo’s employee to change Ginny’s mind, the real battle would be at home. If Harry got even the slightest hint about his wife’s injury, a fight would break out, fitting these infuriating last two days.

Harry, usually being blissfully oblivious to most things, immediately noticed when something was up with Ginny. While most times, this little fact warmed her heart, it was rather unfortunate today. And ever since Harry joined the Aurors, he had become even more of a bloodhound when he sensed a secret.

Ginny was determined to try her best to appear normal when she carefully walked out of the fireplace and into the living room of Grimmauld Place. As she expected, Harry sat on the settee, reading the sports section of the Daily Prophet.

“Hey, Gin,” Harry greeted her, looking up as she walked over to where he was sitting, “How was training? Did Rodgers let you off earlier today?”

The painkillers still in effect, Ginny leaned down to kiss her husband, carefully lifting her weight off her injured ankle. Kissing Harry always made her feel good, but after her dreadful day, it simply felt like heaven.

With one swift movement, Harry pulled her down with him on the settee. She cuddled up against his side, inhaling his scent as she trailed kisses down his neck. As their kisses became more heated, Harry rolled on top of her, and just as she was about to sigh because of the sweet friction, a pained whimper escaped her when Harry hit Ginny’s foot with his leg.

He immediately jumped up, eyes going wide, and Ginny knew that she lost her little hiding game. Carefully sitting up, she waited until Harry crouched down in front of her, looking at her worried.

“Are you hurt? What’s wrong with your foot?”

“Just a small accident at training today,” Ginny tried to reassure him, “Nothing serious.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Why does it still hurt then? Your medi-staff can heal most injuries in a heartbeat.”

“I said I’m fine,” Ginny said, cursing her bloody Weasley genes as she felt her ears turning red. As graceful as possible, she stood up, heading for the kitchen. Besides the fact that she didn’t want to have this conversation, she was also hungry.

Of course, the conversation was far from over because Harry followed her into the kitchen, watching her with a raised eyebrow as Ginny made herself a sandwich. When she turned to face Harry, she tried to casually stand on her good foot, pretending her ankle wasn’t throbbing in a more penetrant manner now. Obviously, the painkillers had already started to wear off.

“Why are you hiding this, Gin?” Harry asked, sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs, “Why didn’t you just go to a healer?”

“Because they would give me skele-gro and a pain-relief potion, meaning I wouldn’t be able to play tomorrow.”

“So? Ginny, I know you are amazing, but I’m sure the Harpies can manage one match without you.”

“Yes, they sure can,” Ginny huffed in frustration, “But if I don’t play, the scouts for the English national team possibly won’t take me into consideration.”

Harry stood up and walked over to his wife, leaning down to get on eye-level with her. “To quote your brother: Are you fucking mental?”

“It’s my career, Harry! Playing for England is the dream, and I refuse to let this silly little injury get in the way.”

Instead of commenting on this, he gently took Ginny’s hand, leading her to sit on a chair. More out of discomfort because of her increasingly throbbing ankle than the willingness to sit down, Ginny complied anyway.

“This is far too dangerous, Ginny. You can’t possibly hold yourself on a broom for-”

“This is not up for debate,” Ginny interrupted him, her tone clipped and her face now red from anger, “I’ll just grit my teeth long enough to play some of my best manoeuvres, and then I’ll ask for a timeout and Rodgers will put me on the bench.”

“And you think Rodgers will be alright with you playing injured? Or are you planning to hide it like you tried to hide it from me?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Harry sighed in frustration at her trademark Weasley-stubbornness but he took Ginny’s hand anyway.

“Okay, let’s put this into perspective, alright?” Ginny wanted to interrupt him, but Harry just kept talking. “You want to play in a game, most likely showing only a mediocre performance because of your broken ankle. Ginny, these scouts don’t have to see you play in this particular game. They know exactly who you are and what you’re capable of already. If you’re not playing in this match, they’ll watch you play in the next one. Assuming they want the very best for the national team, they’ll sure enough not write you off because you couldn’t make it to this match.”

Harry could tell that Ginny’s resolve was already crumbling, but he knew better than to stop here. “There are also your brothers, and more importantly, your mother. Molly will kill me if she learns you hurt yourself even more, despite me knowing of your injury.”

“But I’ve been looking forward to this game for so long,” Ginny sighed, frowning at the unfairness of it all.

“I know,” Harry said, leaning forward a little to softly kiss her pouting lips, “But you can’t play. It’s not just dangerous for you, but also for your teammates and Ballycastle.”

Harry’s words destroyed every resolve Ginny still had standing. The last thing she would want is someone getting hurt because of her stubbornness, and certainly not her beloved Harpies.

“Since when are you the voice of reason.” she groaned, letting her head fall against Harry’s chest and draping her arms around his neck.

Harry took this opportunity to swoop her up into his arms before walking towards the fireplace.

“Let’s get you to St. Mungo’s then.”

Ginny rolled her eyes, sighing at the prospect of the knowing look the healer will give her when she comes back.

Before Harry could floo over to the hospital, Ginny leaned up and placed a hot kiss against his throat.

“If I have to stay at home all day tomorrow, you better keep me company, Potter.”

#hinny #hinny ficfest #harry potter #ginny weasley #hp #hp fanfic #hinny fanfic #hinny fanfiction #harry and ginny #ginny and harry #ginny x harry #harry x ginny

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jawnjendes · 5 years

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i don’t know why | shawn mendes

university au a totally perfect summer babey, shawn x goth gf

AN: u know how life imitates art or vice versa???? yeah sometimes i hate that. anyway i thought i was gonna slow down with updates but i had one (1) free day before i move (tomorrow) so here is this do with her what you will

******let me know if you wanna be tagged in future chapters

masterlist | playlist

In the past, if there was ever a time I could trade 120°F weather for literally anything else, I would have taken it. I would have given anything to stay in Toronto over the summer if it meant I wouldn’t experience heat exhaustion from the moment I stepped outside. I would sell intense SoCal weather to Satan for a single cornchip.

It’s halfway through May, and I still wore a long sleeve and jeans when I went out. It rained sometimes, and when it didn’t, it was cloudy. I could appreciate the coziness that accompanied the weather, but for the time of year, it was also putting me into a weird headspace. I couldn’t shake the feeling of my body unconsciously waiting for sweltering, dry desert heat. I was supposed to be in shorts and a tanktop in my hometown, and Shawn was supposed to be there with me. We were both supposed to be facing the chaos that was my extended family.

On top of that, I was hating having to go to the dealership five times a week. That was all I had going for me now that school was out. I didn’t even work five days during the semester. I never worked in the summer at all in the last few years, and again, I was wearing sweaters in May.

On the bright side, Shawn went to his first therapy session, and it went well for him. Said he had a breakthrough, and ways to combat the night terrors, but he had more that night anyway. I had to time when his body would start twitching, and then wake him up 15 minutes prior. It worked well, and it brought some relief to us and our sleep. I was just glad he was finally doing something about all of this, even if he was still reluctant to talk to me about it.

Sometimes, we were on different wavelengths. Shawn was in the process of getting his perkiness back, and it showed when my pessimism was out and about. There was a balance of light and dark between us, and today Shawn had all of the light.

I decided to go barefaced today. I felt the need to not hide how tired and done I was with the world and its bullshit. My eyebrows were incredibly sparse, and the under eye bags were just a little sunken in. While I was eating solid food again, I was lacking in other nutrients, therefore I was still dropping weight. Why hide it, right?

Shawn just had to point out that I was not wearing makeup, and I just had to take it the wrong way.

“I can’t look pretty all the time,” I snapped.

“But you do look pretty all the time,” he replied, unfazed.

I rolled my eyes and turned away from the bathroom mirror. Shawn was standing next to me, putting product in his freshly washed hair when he noticed my body language.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I have nothing to complain about. I should be grateful.

I left the bathroom and went to change into my uniform. My company shirt needed a wash, but I made a mental note to douse myself in perfume before I left. I was also on my last pair of clean white leggings, which gave me another thing to do when I got home because Shawn doesn’t do laundry. He waits for his mom to come over and do everything for him.

He came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, in his white Sting t-shirt and black jeans. I don’t know why I envied the fact that his only uniform was a stupid apron. Or the fact that he actually looked forward to going to work.

“Okay,” he spoke firmly, “not that long ago, you were pushing me to talk, now it’s your turn. What’s wrong?”

I sighed, not wanting to destroy the last chances I had at pulling myself together before my shift. “It’s nothing. I’m totally happy to be here.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly what I said.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

My skin was crawling with unreasonable annoyance. I wanted to yell at him, and for what? Was it his fault that my insides were the actual worst?

I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Then I looked at him, and the underlying sadness started to creep in. “I just miss my parents… and California. I kinda wish I was there.”

Shawn’s eyebrows scrunched together. His tone was something I was not expecting in the slightest. “You don’t wanna live here?”

It didn’t take much to get me back to my angry state. “I didn’t say that,” I defensively argued. “I said I-”

He interrupted me. “No, no. You don’t wanna be here. You don’t wanna live with me. It makes sense, you’ve been moody this whole time!”

My eyes narrowed into a death glare. “What, am I not allowed to miss my hometown? Am I not supposed to be angry that my large intestine refused to cooperate and part of it had to be removed? Should I not be pissed off that I’m eating bland rice everyday?”

He looked more confused than angry. “I think you should be happy you made it, that you’re okay now.”

I scoffed. “I should be happy? I don’t get to go home until December! I don’t get to see my family this summer! It’s almost June and I’m wearing a fucking sweater!”

“Don’t you hate the desert?”

“You don’t understand!” I yelled. Well, I did it.

“What don’t I understand?” Shawn shot back, raising his own voice. “You hate living here, right? You want to leave, eh?”

“I never said that!” My fingers pulled at the hair on my scalp. “I’m pissed that this is how I ended up living with you! And I wasn’t ready to live with you to begin with! I’m pissed that I won’t get to see my family until the end of the year! And I’m pissed that I’m the one who almost died and you’re the one who’s traumatized!”

That definitely silenced him. Shawn's face fell in a way I had never seen before. My rage faltered a little bit, but not enough to take back anything I said. He asked what was wrong, and I told him. I was too impatient to wait for him to say something, so I grabbed my purse and my keys and I was out of the apartment in a flash.

Under normal circumstances, I was very good at keeping my personal problems under wraps for the sake of remaining poised and professional. A customer could yell at me and throw a tantrum, and I'd keep my face neutral and polite. When I ended things with Luca, I feigned composure so well that I was named employee of the month.

But no, a stupid fight with my boyfriend threatened my professional-but-mildly-bitchy reputation! I was able to be polite to customers, both over the phone and in person, but I was testy to any coworker that came within a five foot radius of my desk. The finance, sales, and parts managers all fell victim to my signature death stare at various points in the morning. I was honestly shocked I wasn't fired by lunch.

Shortly after my lunch break, Stacy made her departure, leaving me with Jason and Luca. I gave them the cold shoulder from the moment they entered the office, a signal for them to leave me the fuck alone. They obliged, but they still clowned around at the back of the office.

"Dude," Jason said in his stoned out drawl, "they should replace lube… with hand sanitizer."

Luca chuckled. "The fuck? What'd you smoke today?"

"Nah, dawg," he continued, "replace lotion, with IcyHot."

I had my back to them, so they didn't see the puzzled expression on my face. As if I haven't heard such crackheadery like this before. Sometimes it made me laugh, but obviously not today.

"Okay, I got one," Luca said between laughs. "Replaces pads… with aluminum foil."

"Replace tampons with paintbrushes."

"Or! Sticks of dynamite!"

There was only half a brain cell in this room, clearly. That half was taken by Jason, who had a customer come in asking for him. He left the office, giving Luca a smug look through the small window.

There were plenty of people still in the building. The other managers, sans Stacy, and the rest of the salesmen were running around doing boring business things. I wished I had things to do, like file repair orders in the filing closet that was nowhere near this office. Or add up more gas receipts… Or have a long, pointless conversation with a customer over the phone. I literally wished I could do anything to avoid the fact that I was alone with Luca for the first time in months.

Of course, he could never keep his mouth shut.

"So, did your boyfriend break up with you?" he asked in a teasing, childish tone.

I ignored him and pretended to be busy with car repair orders. I didn't even know how to read them most of the time.

"You know I helped Shawnie boy write a song," Luca went on.

My blood boiled remembering how badly Mercy was ruined for me. The real meaning behind the lyrics messed me up more than I liked to admit. I hadn't listened to that song in months because of him, apart from when Shawn would perform it. Still, spite kept my mouth shut.

"Answer me, you little whore," Luca deadpanned. "Thought we were cool."

No, I do not know where the logic is behind that. Luca's mind was unlike anything I've ever encountered, and I can't believe I used to find it so attractive and endearing. I used to take his degrading name calling as terms of endearment. Maybe it was in a twisted way. But that was then. Now, he couldn't even compare to the man I had now.

Luca grew impatient, and decided to approach my desk. He leaned against the surface, practically sitting on it, and his brown eyes burned a hole into the side of my head.

"That song was about you."

Brand new information!

"And I'm assuming you've heard it," he continued. "So you know how I really feel."

Finally, I huffed out a sigh and looked up at him. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you know it's true and it gets to you." He smirked, showing off dimples that I used to adore. He talked like this was some sort of challenge, and god knows he loved to challenge me.

"You're a lot of things," I said, "but you're not a liar. Why start now?"

"I'm not a liar. You just don't wanna believe that someone could love you."

I really did not know where to start with that. He never loved me because he frequently went to me when he was bored and horny. He never loved me because he didn't want the things I wanted, and instead of letting me go, he kept stringing me along. He knew I wouldn't leave.

I scoffed and got to my feet, not wanting to be looked down on anymore. "You don't know that. You don't know anything about me."

Luca turned his whole body towards me. He was still smirking as he fixed the stupid RayBans perched on his nose. "If anyone's gonna know anything about you, it's me. I know you better than anyone here. I probably know you better than Shawn does. And you hate that, huh?"

He was the only person who wasn't intimidated by my death stare. He was the only person who made me powerless and small. And yeah, I really fucking hated that.

"Oh, so now you suddenly wanna admit that? Now I'm worth something to you?" I spat.

Whatever cockiness Luca had on suddenly faltered. He took a step back, ready to shut down, but I wasn't having it anymore.

"You had feelings, eh?" I asked, internally cursing the vernacular that planted itself into my vocabulary. "So where was all of that last year? Where was all of that when I was tearing myself apart to put you back together?"

"I never asked you to fix me," Luca said. "You just didn't want to fix yourself. I know I was just another person you didn't want to commit to in the long run."

"I wanted you to-" I tried to say, but he interrupted me.

"Oh, I bet you wanted me to be your boyfriend. But I know a crazy bitch when I see one. Doesn't look like anything's changed. Wonder how Shawn deals with you."

It felt like the glass bubble surrounding me was shattered with a sledgehammer. It felt like the wind was knocked out of me, or like my spirit had been forcibly removed from my body. My face was hot to the touch, and angry tears were threatening to come out of my eyes. Everything around me suddenly turned grey and went in slow motion. This feeling in my chest was dull and aching, and I wasn't sure how to deal with it.

Even when Jason entered the office again, I still felt like I was floating. Luca went back to his desk, and my body moved back into my chair. Memories of finishing up my shift were spotty. This darkness was awfully familiar.

I found myself wandering around Walmart after work. My legs felt numb, but they moved and worked like they should. My breath was constantly getting caught in my throat, and my spirit was just following its vessel around the store. I felt like I could collapse at any moment, and I could just let the ground swallow me whole. I tried looking at the video games in the electronic section to get myself back to normal, but I just felt numb. I ended up buying a stick of deodorant and an ice cream bar I couldn't eat.

Shawn was already home when I got there, and he still wasn't talking to me. There wasn't anything in me that wanted to try to fix that. He needed to sit with his angry boi feelings anyway. My body moved past the living room, where he was sitting watching Netflix. He looked at me, I saw it from my peripherals, but I just silently turned into the bedroom.

I spent the next hour leaning against the wall in the shower, hot water coming down on my back. I had a specific Halsey song on repeat blaring through the bathroom, even though my spirit floating above my body knew it wouldn't help the situation. I just needed to feel something.

"Tell me how's it feel sitting up there

Feeling so high but too far away to hold me

You know I'm the one who put you up there

Name in the sky, does it ever get lonely?"

Eventually, I was back on Earth, and the water was cold. My limbs ached as I moved around again to shut the shower off, but at least I was feeling something. Once the noise from the running water was gone, I was forced to hear more of that damn song. I still didn't bother to change it as I stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around myself.

"Gave love 'bout a hundred tries

Just running from the demons in your mind

Then I took yours and made 'em mine

I didn't notice cuz my love was blind"

I made quick work of drying off and getting dressed. I didn't bother with putting leave-in conditioner in my hair or moisturizing my skin. I stared down at the sink and processed what went down at work.

"I didn't ask you to fix me. You just didn't wanna fix yourself. I know a crazy bitch when I see one. Doesn't look like anything's changed."

Shouldn't you want to fix the one you love when they're down? Wouldn't you do anything you can to ensure that the one you love would be okay? Why else would I give up therapy so Shawn could take my place?

Oh, crap. Shawn.

Before I knew it, I was walking out of the bathroom, back to the living room. Shawn was still on the couch, take out box in hand. I watched him eat pasta as I leaned against the doorway. My voice came out raspy and wavering, but still coherent.

"I'm sorry about this morning. I didn't mean to snap at you."

Talking alone caused a crying fit to form in my chest and throat. I turned on my heel, not expecting much of anything until-

"Did you eat?"

I stopped in my tracks, but I didn't face him. I cleared my throat before speaking again. "Not hungry."

"Hey, I know we fought, but you still need to eat."

"That's, that's not why…" I trailed off. This was a time where I wanted to sit and cry in his arms, something I never did. (The hospital doesn't count - I was under the influence of morphine.) I knew he was still mad at me, though. I couldn't ask him for anything. The only thing I could do was clear my throat some more.

Mad as he was, Shawn was still persistent. "Do you feel sick?"

Yes, but not the way he was probably thinking. I wouldn't even know how to explain it.

"No," I said simply.

I heard Shawn move from the couch, but I still kept my back to him.

"Is something-"

I cut across him. "Don't try to be nice to me. You don't have to after the way I acted."

"We had an argument, we didn't break up," Shawn said.

Slowly, I turned my head to look back at him. The only thing between us was the doorway. Shawn didn't seem as wound up as he did this morning, but that didn't mean he probably wasn't feeling it anymore. I didn't want to risk another fight.

"I didn't mean anything I said this morning," I told him, my voice still small. I couldn't find it in me to fake composure. "I like living with you, and I appreciate everything you've done for me."

He nodded. "I'm sorry too. I understand that you miss your family. I miss mine, and they're only a half hour drive from here."

If I didn't have this surgery then I would be at home and I wouldn't have been irrationally shaken to the core by Luca's words. I could literally be in my childhood bed right now.

"Yeah," I mumbled, reaching my threshold. "Yeah, I do miss home."

Shawn then waved me over. "Come on. Come here."

I felt like I was going to fall apart as I stepped out of the small bedroom. My knees shook slightly, but Shawn took my hand and led me into the spacious area, over to the couch. He watched me as I sat down. I must have looked like a right mess if he was giving me careful eyes, like I might break into pieces at any given moment.

He got up and grabbed the grey, woolen blanket from the other end of the couch and draped it over my lap. "So… how was work?"

"I don't wanna talk about it." I stared at the TV, but I didn't really care about what was on.

"Alright. Do you wanna play Breath of the Wild?"

Tears welled up in my eyes in a split second, and I rapidly nodded my head and sobbed out, "Yeah…"

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes smut #fourtristattoosspring #shawn x goth gf #this was totally not inspired by real life events ha ha ha #i totally did not wander around my local walmart tryna figure out how tf why tf the mf audacity #a bit shaken up but dammit imma keep writing #no ones taking this away from me especially not-#anyway thx for reading i appreciate yall #(so help me jeebus if i end up having to repost this)

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sunfloweradore · 6 years

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sanctified*

- harry is a very nervous angel -

once again, i’m sorry for the wait n i hope you like it <3

Harry was a guardian angel, and a darn good one, in his opinion. He’d dealt with some different cases in different universes, but he’d only had two on Earth, so far. It was a pretty interesting place, he thought. It was full of people who all had different opinions and he thought that was nice but he also believed that those opinions got in their way too often. They’re a fairly intelligent species but their own egos and stances made it too difficult to get to know someone, especially for Harry. He did like it there, though, and he was one of the few angels who did, which is why he was getting sent there again. This time, he’d gotten assigned to a clumsy, exuberant girl after they reported her getting her foot stuck inside of a drain pipe. No one really knew how she did it but they did know that she needed someone to help her out with the constant amount of sticky situations she got herself into. Angels aren’t supposed to introduce themselves to who they’ll be guarding in case there’s an emergency (people tend to mistakenly think that their guardian angel is really a stalker or something of the sorts if it’s a case so severe that involves them appearing). This, however, did not go as planned with Harry.

The first time he saw Y/N, he was so entranced by her beauty that he couldn’t find it in himself to continue disappearing. His heart sped up and his mind went blank- the poor girl was drunk off her ass, though, and Harry was apparently very enticing. He could recall their first interaction like the back of his hand. He had just arrived to Earth, prepping himself to follow her home (even though he already knew where her house was) when she saw herself in the glass of some pastry shop- her friends, also drunk of their asses, stumbling behind her. She poked and prodded at her face until she saw him behind her, gasping loudly and scaring him half to death. He hadn’t even realized he’d appeared until she waddled over to him, mouth ajar and eyes wide. Her friends had the same expression on their faces and for a second he considered running because he didn’t really fancy being gaped at by three random girls (he did quite like the idea of Y/N doing it, though.)

“Oh my god, you’re gorgeous! Isn’t he gorgeous, guys?” she babbled, head tilting to her friends but eyes gluing to Harry’s face as they nodded. He giggled, kind of uncomfortable but incredibly flattered, a deep blush blooming from deep in his chest and spreading across his small ears. She continued fawning over him, getting closer and gently cradling his face, making his eyes go wide and his feet stumble over each other the more she pulled him towards her own. She gasped suddenly, causing Harry to let out a small gasp, too, afraid that she had hurt herself, though his gasp went unnoticed.

“You’re perfect!” the blush burned brighter. “C’mon,” she said, grabbing onto his wrists and ignoring the sparks that appeared in waves when their skin touched, unlike Harry. His lips parted in curiosity, red flags going off because he’d never heard of that happening when angels touched humans, so why was it happening now? She continued pulling him, her touch gentle and his docile. His heart was thudding as his mind swirled and tried to understand the feelings he was having the closer she brought him to her body. She placed his hands on her hips, wrapping her arms around his neck, chests suddenly pressed together. Harry had almost no coherent thoughts at this point, the only thing he could think about was their close proximity- her breath wafting over his face as her nails scratched lightly at his scalp. The more her lips grew into a smile, the more he began to feel as though she was the angel in this situation, not him. He lost track of time, his face and ears tingling with a blush that didn’t seem to go away- that is, until she pulled away.

“You know who you look like? Bill Skarsgård,” she giggled, poking at the frown that developed on his face.

“I-I uh, don’t know who that is,” Harry spoke, trying to avoid her fingers getting caught in his words. She gasped so hard that he expected a cough to follow, blinking slowly.

“What?! Well, that has to change immediately! Luckily for you, we were planning on going home and binging his new show, anyways. You just happen to be our cute new addition,” she smiled. He stuttered on his own breath, tilting his head.

“You know, you really shouldn’t invite strangers to your home. Especially ones that you meet at night. It really isn’t safe because there’s so many bad people out there. There’s a statistic that shows that most homicides an-” he was cut off by her giggle, stopping to listen to it, while wringing his hands together nervously. He was a fairly shy and nervous person when he was in Heaven- Heaven, of all places! In the afterlife where he’s supposed to be his happiest and most at peace, he was a little ball of social anxiety. This, however, was different, because he’d never talked to a human before, a gorgeous human, in this case, and it was much more difficult than usual.

“Well if you were a bad person, I’m sure you wouldn’t be telling me that. Now, come on!”

If Harry had known that going to his person’s house at 3 am would be like this, he probably would’ve just shown up in the morning instead. He instantly took a liking to Y/N, just as he was supposed to. She was bright and cheery and fussed over his hair and how “adorably mushy and sweet” his cheeks were. Her friends, however, were not so likable. They sat in the loveseat huddled up together while Harry was warm underneath a blanket, far away from others and closest to the door so he could make a quick escape if he had to. His problem with them was their whispered words and with his supernatural abilities, he could hear every word they were saying like they were right next to his ear, and he was trying to sleep. He was meant to adapt to his human’s schedule, which was, so far, going swimmingly, seeing as she was already knocked out with her head draped over his leg.

Apparently, they were not exactly her close friends, seeing as they had met at the bar they were at when they were already fairly tipsy. They bonded over this… Bill Skarsgård man (who, yes, he admits is very attractive… not to toot his own horn or anything, but he did look quite similar to him) and decided they’d go back to her house to watch it since it was closest to the bar. He was certain that she had a problem with trusting people too easily. And, it’s not like he even wanted to go to sleep, now, knowing this kind of information, because his instincts were kicking in and he felt like he needed to keep an eye on the two just in case they wanted to hurt Y/N, but he was just so tired. Her head was warm and the blanket was soft, and after all of the pampering she’d done to his hair and his cheeks, he felt seconds away from dozing off, which was exactly what was happening. That is, until he heard rustling from that darn loveseat.

“Should we do it, now?” the one with the deeper voice said- which made Harry refrain from snapping his eyes open. He quickly realized that Y/N didn’t even know them well enough to introduce them by their names. In fact, she didn’t introduce them to him at all, and he was starting to get a very bad feeling about this all.

“Yeah, they’re both asleep. I’ll grab her wallet, go find her jewelry and shit,” the other one said. His heart froze in his chest- they were definitely not drunk and definitely not trustworthy. He waited until he heard footsteps going down the hall and the quiet rustling of Y/N’s purse being rummaged through to do anything. He slowly peeled his eyes open, now wide awake and ready to get rid of them with the snap of his fingers- but he knew that he couldn’t take such drastic measures when he’d only been there for less than a day.

“Excuse me, but I don’t think it’s very nice of you to go through someone else’s personal belongings,” Harry said firmly, startling the girl and causing her to drop the wallet. She looked at him with wide, scared eyes, obviously not expecting him to be awake, or to be as abrasive as he was.

“I-I wasn’t! Just… I asked if she could hold my wallet for me! I’m grabbing it!” she pleaded.

“No, that’s called stealing!” he shouted, pouting with an abhorrent expression. “I’ve dealt with people like you many times in my life and I refuse to let you take her things.” She bit her lip, as if stifling a grin, and picked the wallet up again.

“Oh, you refuse, huh?” she laughed, gaining back the confidence she lost when Harry first confronted her. He looked like a little puppy, and the way he carried himself proved so- she was certain she’d get away with stealing the $120 in her wallet and the large abundance of gum that Y/N kept in one of the compartments. Harry’s face fell and his jaw clenched in a very austere way, stepping closer to her to the point that their faces were a mere two inches away from each other, causing her to swallow. His eyes bore into hers, looking at her as if she were only mud at the bottom of his shoe.

“I do, actually, and I’m going to give you one last warning before I show you just how serious I am. Do you understand me?” he spat. Her mouth fell open, stuttering on her words as she scrambled around rapidly, unable to escape his gaze. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, ready to call for her friend so they could leave, but his hands fell onto her arms in a wrench-like grip that kept her caged against the wall and unable to move anything but her eyes. He grew very angry very quickly and squeezed her arms tighter.

“I said, do you understand me?” he asked harshly, keeping his voice low but gruff enough to express his anger.

“Y-yeah! Yes, yes, I understand, we’ll leave, I’m sorry,” she whimpered, feeling immense relief when he let her go. Just as she was about to go looking for her, her friend popped out from the corner holding a diamond necklace and a few gem-decorated rings.

“We need to go… now,” she said. Her friend looked at Harry and saw how irate he was, quickly setting all of the accessories down and following her friend out of the door. Harry let out a deep sigh as soon as they left- he never was a big fan of confrontation or getting upset, seeing as he was an angel. Most were built for situations like that- they were strong and knew exactly what to do when faced with panic or danger, but Harry was nervous and shaky. He liked to think of the other angels as German Shepherds and him as a Chihuahua because it was easier that way, and he loved dogs, very very much. He was human once, but his memories were wiped, only with the knowledge of his name and the fact that he was in Heaven, so when he first got assigned to a human on Earth, he was very pleased to discover dogs. As he looked over to Y/N to make sure she was still asleep and peaceful, he came across a pitiful looking girl with tears falling down her face and a blanket brought to her chest.

“Oh, Y/N, are you alright, love? I’m so, so, sorry they betrayed your trust like that, would you like me to bring you some tea or some pastries, or something? I really didn’t mean to get so worked up, I could leave if you’d lik-” his rambling was, once again, cut off by the sweet girl in front of him, but this time, it was by a hug. His breath got caught in his throat, a lump forming along with it. He could feel her emotions tenfold with them touching, and all he felt was the urge to sob.

“Oh,” he choked out.

“You saved my stuff!” she sobbed. “I love you!”

“I-I don’t… think you… do… you want some water? I t-think you… need some of that, now,” he stuttered, gently pushing her off of him and running to the kitchen.

She decided the next morning that she needed him around and he needed a place to stay. This made Harry feel like he always had to be within a 10-foot proximity to her in order for her to be fully safe. Like at night when he was supposed to be sleeping on her plush couch that she said was more comfortable than her bed, and instead slept on the floor in front of her door, or when she needed to go to work at the cafe her grandma used to own and he waited outside, quite like a bodyguard. Harry was very big on safety- constantly hovering over her even when the situation was as small as going to the grocery store past 7 pm, despite it being summer and her living near the suburbs where virtually nothing could happen to her. Even as her guardian angel, he didn’t need to be hovering that much. One of his fellow angels once took a trip to Guam while his person was being followed by a mobster and, after they died, came back reporting that they seemed fine when he left.

Harry could never do that. She was very precious to him, the sweet girl, and he assumes that’s most likely one of the reasons he wasn’t supposed to let her see him. He’d been trying a lot, recently, to teach her about how trusting people so easily isn’t good- a problem that was aroused within the first few minutes of them meeting. She’ll go up to someone's apartment if they tell her they have a cute animal or that they have Xfinity on demand because she sometimes can’t afford the bill and wants to watch certain shows that aren’t on Netflix. Harry told her he could get a job and she looked at him like he’d just slapped her (she then proceeded to lecture him for about ten minutes on the importance of tending to your guest and how it wouldn’t be nice if she made him get a job just to support her addictions to television because he already did so much for her). He didn’t care, though, he was very fond of her and the very few things she actually knew he did for her were cooking and cleaning her home.

She made him pastries and pet his hair, making sure to tug at it just a bit and scratch at the root just the way he liked because it sent chills down his abdomen and made him squirm, it felt so good. She was so kind to everyone they met and sometimes Harry had to intervene into conversations because she let herself get walked all over, by boys especially. Y/N would lightly slap his shoulder afterward and tell him to “chill out, I was just flirting,” with a pout on her glossy lips. Harry didn’t understand what that meant, and, honestly, most of the things she talked about with him didn’t make much sense, either. He was only taught how to keep her safe, and with his lack of interaction with humans or even other angels, he was very clueless, like the girl in that movie he watched with Y/N. Why would she want to be with her ex-stepbrother or rinse all of the hair dye out of that girls hair? It was still red afterward, and didn’t it stain her bathtub? Nevertheless, he pretended like he knew the humanly way of things because that way, she asked fewer questions and Harry felt less guilty about lying to her.

And right now, where he was sitting on that plush couch with her, ankles intertwined with her own, was another one of those moments.

“Harry… do you think I’d be good at giving head? Like, from looking at me? Because Jane was saying that I do look like it, but I don’t know, giving it to girls is way different than with guys, so how accurate is she as a resource, you know?” she asked one day. Her face was stuffed in her compact while she put on her coconut flavored chapstick on meticulously- Harry reading a magazine that she’d left out. He was confused, but wasn’t going to voice this, and, like 60% of the time she asks him about something he doesn’t understand, he mumbles “sure” under his breath.

“Really? Like, really, though? Because I need to know soon- this guy, Lance, came into the cafe the other day and he told me that I didn’t, but I actually want to suck him off because he’s in my interior design course and sometimes his shirt rides up and- you get it. So, I mean, I’d like to look the part, too,” she said, wiggling in her seat. Okay, now Harry was concerned. What did she mean? She wanted to suck on some random boy who came into her work? Like he was food? That didn’t sound nice and he didn’t think that she needed to look like she was going to, either.

“Why would you want to do that, pet? You don’t know him, you certainly shouldn’t want to… eat him, or anything,” he reprimanded, picking at the corner of a page about Blake Lively’s favorite baby clothing brand.

“What? Harry, no, do you not know what a blowjob is?” she asked, giggling softly. Her face was still stuffed into the purple compact and Harry was starting to think that she was going to stay there with that chapstick for the rest of her life. He huffed, laying the magazine on his chest and crossing his arms over it.

“Of course I do. I know about everything,” he said matter-of-factly. She put the compact down, finally, and stood up in her seat.

“Hmm. Okay, so what is it?” she asked snippily with her brows furrowed in, a scoff ready to come out of her heavily coated lips.

“What is what?” he asked.

“A blowjob, Harry, Jesus,” she said exasperatedly. He gasped, gaping at her while he sat up, too.

“Excuse you! Do not use that name in vain!” he reprimanded loudly. She gave him a pointed look, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. They stared at each other with narrowed eyes, a silent battle against each other. Harry lost almost immediately, he couldn’t stand when people were upset with him.

“Fine. No, I don’t know what a… a…” he mumbled.

“Blowjob?” she butted in.

“Right, that. Dunno what it is,” he said.

“Well… I could show you?” she asked, crawling towards him on the couch. She kicked the compact to the side and he gulped loudly.

“I-I… is that necessary? I’ve gone this long without knowing what it is or how it... feels... so maybe just, like, demonstrate… or something?” he rambled, backing away from her crawling limbs. His heart was pounding against his ribcage, not used to her constant displays of affection, or even being within actual touching proximity to her.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want, but I’d rather not have you watch porn and give my laptop even more viruses than the ones we have from you clicking the ads on articles,” she whispered, now sitting criss-cross-applesauce between his spread legs. He became even more perplexed, now, but set the magazine down with determined vigor.

“No, I’d like for you to show me, please,” he said. He needed to learn more about the human world, anyways, and, if he was being honest, he’d probably let her do anything to him. He knew he was breaking all of his morals and basically the code of being a guardian angel by interacting with her to the point of even living with her, but he didn’t care anymore. Her lips pulled up into a smirk, prowling towards him quite like a cat would to a mouse. She brought her face closer to him, probably the closest they’d ever been, and moved her mouth to his ear.

“Take your clothes off, Harry,” she demanded. He gulped, eyes widening.

“U-um… why?” he choked out. Y/N sighed, whispering a wistful “oh, Harry… ridiculous” under her breath and bringing her lips to his. Everything froze, a numb feeling traveling from his head to his toes. Sweat beaded at his forehead while he sat there, unmoving, until she pulled off.

“Aww, Harry, was I your first kiss?” she asked gently, smiling with her head tilted, still. His lips formed a grin, too, and he slowly shook his head.

“N-no, uh… no, I’ve kissed lots of people before,” he said, grimacing at himself. “could we still… do it again, though?” After she nodded, he jerked his head toward her a little until he realized that he could not pull off kissing her without a little guidance (he almost laughed- he came to Earth to protect her and guide her in the right direction, he was her guardian angel, and, yet, she was the one guiding him through things most of the time). She seemed to realize this, too, and giggled a little, the smell of coconut invading his senses again, but stronger as she kissed him again. His stomach turned itself over, he was so nervous, but it was in a good way, for once. It felt amazing to have her lips on his, something that he thought was so gross in movies was really so magical and warm, despite the feeling that he was doing everything wrong. It felt so good, in fact, that he felt a warm, overwhelming sensation spread across his collarbones, sparking a fire in him that had never been lit before. He pressed his lips to hers with more vigor, shakily placing a hand on her knee. She breathed through her nose once, and grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand up to the part where her hip and thigh met. He pulled away, gasping, and rested his forehead against her shoulder.

“That was really n-nice!” he began, almost yelling when he felt her hand against his pelvis. She shushed him, lifting his head up and placing their lips together again. It was in vain, though, because he couldn’t focus on kissing when her hand was sending chills through his body. He tried to ask her what she was doing but almost doubled over when she slipped her hand inside of the gray sweatpants she bought for him.

“Just relax, H, I’ll take care of you,” she hummed against his lips. The pairs were both slick with their breaths perspiration and lip balm from Y/N and Harry was beginning to feel overwhelmed. He didn’t even think to wear underwear because why would he? He definitely was not expecting for his person to stick her hand down his pants, and definitely didn’t think he’d like it. She kissed him gently and put pressure on an area that had him keening for her, smiling faintly.

“So hard for me, already,” she muttered. Harry had no idea why, but it made him squirm, groaning under his breath. His hair was falling around his face and tickling hers because he couldn’t seem to calm down enough to fix it. His heart was racing, heavy breaths passing through him and onto her mouth, making her shush him again, moving her hand up and down at a slow pace. He cleared his throat a few times, raising himself to his knees and managing to keep her palm against him. She kissed him once more and pulled away, making him feel colder than he’d ever felt before.

“I’m gonna put my mouth on you, now, is that okay?” she asked softly. He breathed through his nose in hard sequences, unable to respond in fear of letting out a childlike wail. Her thumb massaged his slit and he hissed harshly, throwing his head back and swallowing, Adam's apple bobbing.

“Harry? Is that okay?” she questioned, slightly louder this time.

“Y-yes,” he answered simply. She stroked the slit again, but harder, and this time he let out a gasp and shot forward, resting his head between her breasts. His breath was hot against her collarbone and he could feel a tickling feeling in his spine, frustrated that he couldn’t control himself.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear, you, H, you need to be louder,” she said, twisting her finger into a strand of his hair and tugging on it.

“Yes! Please,” he whimpered. She grinned at him, asking him to take off the sweatpants again, and he did so with no complaints this time around, laying down underneath her. She muttered “good boy” under her breath and his cock twitched against his newly bare thigh.

“Oh, you like that, huh? Like when I call you a good boy?” she asked teasingly. He nodded desperately and swallowed thickly when she started lowering herself down the length of his body, taking the time to kiss the chubby part of his hips and the freckles she discovered in her wake. He blushed, his ears tingling with all of the blood rushing to them (none of it being taken away from his lower region, of course). She finally reached her destination and crouched low enough for him to feel her breath against him. He shifted, feeling her come closer before he was flooded with the sensation of her tongue lightly peeking out to rub against the smooth precum that coated him. Her mouth wrapped around his tip, causing her lip balm to smear in a ring across the underside of his head.

“G-god, how much of that stuff did you put on?” he asked quizzically, watching her mouth enclose his cock with a dazed look in his eye. He didn’t receive an answer, but he saw her mouth form a smile before he felt it, and when he did, he shuddered and pet her hair gently. In the back of his mind, he could hear his inner voice shouting at him for even thinking of God at a time like this, but he blocked it out, for the first time in his angelic lifespan. Before he knew it, though, she wrapped her nimble fingers around him again, pumping in time with her mouth. His hands shook, legs spreading for her more, now. He felt like he was being rewarded, like he was special, another first in his life. It made him feel good- really good. Until she pulled off. She gave him a look that said “pay attention to me!”, but he wasn’t having any of it.

“Don’t stop!” he shouted angrily. She looked up at him, surprised at the volume and assertion of his normally quiet voice, but he just looked at her with furrowed brows and a pout that could put a toddler to shame.

“Okay, okay, sorry,” she giggled. Harry did not like that, at all. This is probably the best thing he’s ever felt- better than anything in Heaven, that’s for sure, and he was taking it very seriously.

“Oi, I’m serious,” he grumbled. She stifled another laugh and nodded, pursing her lips over the head of his shiny cock once again, allowing him to wiggle his hips and pet his fingers over her cheekbones with a feather-light touch. A sniffle was heard from him, but he wasn’t worried about anything but his person. She was the sweetest little thing he’d ever known and seeing her between his thighs- feeling her between his thighs, made him want to put them in a bubble in the sky and float there forever. He’d protect her and wouldn’t have to worry about going to back to Heaven, because he’d be in his own, perfect version. Y/N’s tongue swiped at his frenulum and suddenly all coherent thoughts left his mind and were quickly replaced with the feeling of a white-hot burning deep in his stomach. His throat clenched and his legs shook underneath her palms and all was overwhelming bliss until she took him all the way down her throat. His eyes snapped open and a loud whooshing noise filled the living room. She pulled off quickly, looking at him with a stunned expression.

“Y/N!” he yelled, whipping his head to the side to look at the bright white wings that were squished against the couch.

“Oh, my God.”

i hope you liked it :))) x

masterlist

#harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles writing #harry styles preference #harry styles preferences #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles masterlist #writing #one direction one shot #one direction one shots #one direction imagine #one direction imagines #one direction writing

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ahouseoflies · 5 years

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The Best Films of 2018, Part I

I’ll associate my moviegoing this year with two things: subscription models and superhero films. Realizing that I was the target audience, I signed up for Moviepass in March, then canceled just before they started extorting people in July. (I’ll remember you all semi-fondly, conniving alarmists in the Moviepass Reddit thread.) Thanks to Moviepass, I took full advantage of my free time over the summer, and I found some nice surprises that I wouldn’t have checked out otherwise. From there I joined AMC A-List, which is the rare corporate service that I cannot complain about in any way. Moviepass always felt like some kind of drug deal, whereas A-List is as easy and inviting an experience as possible. I get to seek out Dolby, IMAX, or 3-D showings instead of getting locked out of them, and the electronic ticketing helps with my last-minute availability. (I’ve mastered the art of lovingly putting my daughter to bed, only to desert her and my wife five minutes later. “You know, there’s an 8:10 showing of The Predator, which means 8:30 after previews...”) My overall viewing was up 11% this year, which I have to attribute to these subscriptions. Perhaps I saw too much though. After a self-righteous five-year ban on superhero movies, I caught up in 2019 like the madman completist that I am. On the plus side, I enjoyed Wonder Woman and Guardians of the Galaxy, and I vaguely feel more connected with the culture-at-large. But I could have been more selective. The diligence required to watch X-Men: Apocalypse late on a Thursday night took away from, say, my Orson Welles project or...reading books. To get some of the business out of the way, I haven’t seen Burning, Shoplifters, Destroyer, Cold War, The Sisters Brothers, Tomb Raider, The Wife, or The House That Jack Built. Not all of us get screeners or care about seeing The Wife. Mostly for argument purposes, I list everything I saw and divide the movies into the categories of Garbage, Admirable Failures, Endearing Curiosities with Big Flaws, Pretty Good Movies, Good Movies, Great Movies, and Instant Classics. Hey, speaking of superheroes: GARBAGE

123. Venom (Ruben Fleischer)- Venom was first announced as an R-rated film until it was neutered into PG-13 at some point in the development road. That was the right choice because this is a movie, in all of its broad, careless storytelling, for children. "So he's going to get married to her but then he looks at her email and then he interviews the guy and he gets fired so then she leaves him and he drinks now?" This is a dummy's version of what a journalist is or what a scientist is, and it never shades into more subtlety than exactly what is on the expected surface. I guess that Tom Hardy gets to jump into a lobster tank if that floats your boat, but the story is stuck on fast-forward for the whole movie, never relenting to develop character or do anything other than communicate information that we don't really need.

Venom is almost--almost--interesting as a new branch in the superhero economy. Why shouldn't Tom Hardy and National Treasure Michelle Williams trade the equity they've built for caring about their work into this trash? I don't begrudge them that for a second. I hope they make more money for the sloppy sequels. 122. The Equalizer 2 (Antoine Fuqua)- The first Equalizer was flat and pointlessly long with pedantic dialogue too, but at least it had the Home Depot sequence. This one makes very basic stuff incoherent and dawdles all the way to the end. Your boy is now an expert hacker too? I guess it's too late for Fuqua to start caring about scripts.

121. Mandy (Panos Cosmatos)- I need somebody to explain to me why, dramatically, this is good without something like, "It's so metal! What a midnight movie! Chainsaw fight lol!" If you want to talk about the visuals that are stylized within an inch of reality, then I'll listen. But there's nothing to hold onto dramatically. I think I've developed an overall irritation with revenge films, but this filthy dirge of a movie felt empty and endless by any standard. 120. Fifty Shades Freed (James Foley)- Its intentions are too guileless to upset me, but Fifty Shades Freed uses up the goodwill I sort of had for the first two by tugging the viewer relentlessly through conflict that always seems temporary. Part of the fun has always been how bizarre basic human interactions seem in this universe. (Has anyone ever returned from a vacation to be surprise-promoted?) But this entry expects way too much from its viewer's loyalty. 119. On Chesil Beach (Dominic Cooke)- There's supposed to be a disconnect to the behavior of the couple in On Chesil Beach, a movie that asks us to harken back to a time when newlyweds were so sexually innocent that they had trouble figuring out how to consummate a marriage. Their fumbling seems foreign to us, which is the point. But what's the excuse for none of the behavior in the movie ringing true to any human experience?

I'm talking about Florence refusing to tell her string quartet that she's engaged because she thinks they'll assume that her marriage will break up the group even though she's sure that it won't. I'm talking about her father, who feels the need to humiliate his son-in-law in tennis because that would prove that he's dominant over the boy in some way that being his employer does not already prove. I'm talking about a plot that literally would not exist if the characters had just engaged in one conversation that it seems like they would have had in the flashbacks, which frame them as a kind of open, reasonably affectionate, easy-going couple. But by all means, McEwan, change that whenever it suits you. 118. Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom (J.A. Bayona)- I reject the whole premise of this deliberate lowering of stakes that never rises above obligation. To paraphrase a Griffin Newman joke, it makes Jurassic Park 4 look like Jurassic Park 1.

While we're here though: Can I have a movie about the guy who compiled the guest list for the dino auction? I want to see a guy looking at a spreadsheet--or is it an Access file?--and getting to, like, Mark Cuban and weighing the options: "He probably has the $27 million to spare on weaponized recombinant DNA. He would definitely appreciate the wow factor of having his own Indoraptor. But is he more of a neutral evil or a chaotic evil? I guess I'll reserve a seat for him and send the invitation. If he says no, then he says no. Okay, we're still in the C's..."

117. Tag (Jeff Tomsic)- Tag is going to show up on a lot of "worst movies to ever win an Oscar" lists when Jeremy Renner wins an Oscar for it. 116. A-X-L (Oliver Daly)- This is a melodramatic movie about a weaponized robotic dog and the dirtbike kid who befriends it. Nothing wrong with that; a ten-year-old boy might like it, and there aren't enough movies specifically for that audience. But what's weird is how nonchalant the main character is about the whole thing. He immediately starts training this one-of-a-kind "war dog" android and imprints it with his DNA like this is a regular Tuesday. It's one of many things that is just kind of off in this picture.

This being a cheap genre film, you do get treated to those L.A. locations that have been around the block. I think the nondescript complex that houses Craine Industries is also the one from Sneakers and The Lawnmower Man. You know, Craine Industries, the company that is working on a $70 million prototype for the military but, because this is a cheap genre film, seems to have two employees.

I do think there's an interesting movie to be made about motocross. The movie kind of works when it's just about an underdog father and son fixing bikes, before it gets into all of the robot stuff. ADMIRABLE FAILURES

115. The Little Stranger (Lenny Abrahamson)- Dr. Faraday: "Wanna marry me?" Caroline: "Maybe. Do you actually love me?" Dr. Faraday: "Probably not." Caroline: "Hmm, I think I would marry you only as an excuse to go to London to get away from my dying mother and this crumbling house that probably has a ghost." Dr. Faraday: "Oh. Well, glad we're discussing it now because I want to marry you specifically to give me a reason to stay in this crumbling house that probably has a ghost. I'm drawn to it for some reason." Caroline: "Is it because you grew up poor?" Dr. Faraday: "Yes. All dry, cold British stuff ultimately comes down to that.

114. Damsel (David Zellner and Nathan Zellner)- Had I done my research, I wouldn't have watched this Zellner Brothers follow-up to Kumiko the Treasure Hunter, one of my least favorite films of that year. Like that movie, Damsel is a story of two halves, punctuated by a shocking moment that happens halfway through. Unfortunately nothing interesting happens before, and nothing interesting happens after. 113. Suspiria (Luca Guadignino)- This is a movie about duality that gets extended. English, German, and just a sprinkle of French. Six parts and an epilogue. A dual role (and a bit part). Personalities that clash until one pulls ahead. There are ideas here. But, especially considering I don't like the original Suspiria, I didn't find much to hold onto as a visceral experience. It's a long, foreboding sit. Guadagnino knows how to end his movies, but he still doesn't have much to say for the long middle parts. Shout-out to Amazon; I hope that, in some circuitous way, betting on maximalist Italians helps them to sell paper towels or whatever.

112. Early Man (Nick Park)- I still love the Aardman aesthetic, but this material was thin. It's too juvenile for adults and too adult for juveniles. 111. Beirut (Brad Anderson)- The screenplay takes an hour to set up what should have taken twenty minutes. Some of that time is dedicated to developing Hamm's burnt-out alcoholic wheeler-dealer, but he's a character we've seen a hundred times before anyway. Some shorthand would have done some good. Once the plot gets going, it's serviceable, but I was bored by that point. Pike and Hamm need to fire their managers. 110. Upgrade (Leigh Whannell)- I'll admit that I owed the film more attention than I gave it since I was nodding off the whole time, but nothing in the gloomy programmer interested me enough to want to go back.

109. Red Sparrow (Francis Lawrence)- Good as a steamy blank check provocation from the director and star--not much else. I'm sure people will take down the easy target of Jen Larry's Russian accent, but they're ignoring just how much she tries in something like this. She is a gargantuan Movie Star who commands the screen, and a lot of that presence comes from the commitment of, say, learning how to ballet dance for what must have been months. She hasn't slept through a performance yet.

I didn't think this endless movie made much sense, especially near its conclusion. Perhaps it's my personal distaste for the way that spy movies introduce major plot points without so much as a music sting to guide you. As soon as anyone says the term "double agent," my brain turns off.

108. Hot Summer Nights (Elijah Bynum)- If you want to direct a music video, just direct a music video. I like all of the actors in this, but the filmmaker has nothing to say. 107. The First Purge (Gerard McMurray)- Even James DeMonaco seems to be admitting that the bloom is off the rose a bit, since he only wrote this entry in the franchise--and his direction is missed in the action scenes. Just enough of the political subtext remains, (The New Founding Fathers get funding from the NRA, and a character uses "pussy-grabbing" as an insult. Thankfully, a Black church getting shot up by men with Iron Cross flags happens off-screen.)

But there are more characters I didn't care about than characters I did care about. Since its prequel setting doesn't reveal much about the world that we didn't already know, the film needed to do a bit more with the survive-the-night scenario that we already saw in the second film.

106. Vox Lux (Brady Corbet)- A movie that, up to and including the last minute, keeps promising something better than it actually is. Everyone here is making...choices… 105. Madeline’s Madeline (Josephine Decker)- I'm glad David Ehrlich liked this as much as he did. There are some intriguing ideas, most notably the suggestion that a mentally unstable person would be better suited for acting than a healthy person. What a debut for Helena Howard as well. But for it to add up to something by the end, I think I needed it to have more dramatic structure--the sort of fall of the Molly Parker character feels invented and insincere--or go all the way into experiment. 104. Shirkers (Sandi Tan)- One of those "you won't believe what happens next" documentaries that positions itself as an example of truth being stranger than fiction. But removed from a festival context, does it ever rise above its logline? Is it really even that odd?

#film #lists #movie reviews

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thotyssey · 7 years

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On Point With: Honey LaBronx

This truly inspiring Sober Vegan Warrior of the drag world has a long history of both entertaining the masses and fighting for the civil liberties of humans and animals everywhere. Now she’s bringing a play that she’s written about her life before drag to a major theater festival in the city, while lighting up the internet with podcasts and video cooking shows. Lets enjoy this sticky-sweet moment with playwright Ben Strothmann, aka queen Honey LaBronx!

Thotyssey: Hello Honey! You must be real busy this week, fine- tuning things for a brand new production of your autobiographical play Virtual Memory, which premieres Friday as part of Dixon Place’s HOT! Festival! What is the most surprising thing you’ve learned about theater production from this experience?

Honey LaBronx: Honestly, I'm learning how much work goes into getting butts in seats! When I first presented a staged reading of Virtual Memory, I asked very few people to come. It was really something--I thought I was just doing for myself. I was hoping that maybe 20 people would show up; but somehow we had 85+ people there. It was full to capacity, and people had to stand in the doorway and watch from the hall!

This time around, I just assumed "Okay, so those 85 people will show up--plus, a healthy fraction of the new people I've met over the last three years!" Not the case--especially in August! I forget that August is dead for theater. So many people leave NYC in the summer, and it seems like everyone is going out of town that very weekend.

So I actually made a spreadsheet to track each and every person I contacted about the show. So far, I've texted/ emailed/ Facebooked 591 people. I have 88 confirmed butts-in-seats, 9 uncomfirmed, and 107 maybes. Not bad, considering the space holds about 120 people. I really want to make a strong first showing at Dixon Place; it's the only way I can truly show my gratitude for this opportunity. Tom Amici (director) once told me the secret to selling tickets is making personal phone calls to invite people... but I just haven't had the time.

I ended up spending the better part of two weeks just promoting the show, rather than actually working on it. Now, it's three nights before I take the stage, and I'm still worried about putting everything together and doing the work as an actor.

Many nightlifers recognize your drag persona Honey LaBronx from gigs, or from your online vegan cooking web show. Why did you decide to make Virtual Memory a Ben Strothmann production, and not a Honey LaBronx production?

Well, the show is just about Ben Strothmann. To be honest, Honey LaBronx didn't become a part of my life until roughly where this play ends. So who knows... maybe there will be a followup play. Becoming Honey, or something like that!

Without giving away too many juicy details, since I’m sure much is discussed in the play… where were you raised, and what was life like growing up gay and fabulous?

I was born in Milwaukee, and raised in Wauwatosa, a suburb of Milwaukee. Growing up gay was pretty lonely. I'm not that old, but I can already say it was a much different time back then. The internet wasn't really a thing until I was 11... and even then, most people didn't really get online til about two or three years later. So I grew up not really knowing any other gay people.

It wasn't until I was 11 that we got the internet, and after a few years, once I was out to myself I started finding other people like me. I think that was really scary for my parents, that I was using the internet to find other gay men when I was barely a teen. But through it, I found fabulous friends in New York who worked in the theater, a friend who traveled the world and was able to expose me to so much culture, and I really got that I was okay and accepted.

How, when and where did Honey get born?

Honey was actually born in the apartment of Alexis Michelle from Season 8 of RuPaul's Drag Race. Alexis (Alex) and I were in a production of The Cradle Will Rock and he mentioned that he does drag. Some friends were organizing a drag pageant for charity, and I asked if they needed help. I wasn't expecting to be in drag, but they said it would be great if I could be there in drag to help sell tickets and work the crowd.

So I went to see Alex, he painted me, and after 11 years of already having my drag name picked out, Honey LaBronx walked out that door and onto the streets of Manhattan. I didn't know what to expect! I wore a large men's raincoat to hide my drag underneath. I must have looked so awkward. I was convinced that people would stop and say something to me... like, I'm not allowed to do this, or like I was breaking some rule, or something!

I got to the venue, and backstage I met a guy named Caldwell who was putting his face on, and asked if his highlights were even. They weren't, and I was the only one willing to tell him. We became best friends and roommates for four years. He asked if he could be my drag mother and I said yes, somewhat reluctantly as I thought maybe letting Alexis paint me made her my mother by default.

Caldwell / Kittin Withawhip later changed her drag name to Bob The Drag Queen -- and we all know how that worked out for her.

How would you describe your drag performing style, or Honey’s stage persona?

Midwestern mom drag. A slightly less brief description would be to say: Honey LaBronx -- the Whitest Lady Ever.

If I must elaborate, I would say that Honey is a comedy queen, a singer, and when people aren't expecting it, a shock queen. I've pulled a few stunts in my day. I may have been involved in an incident with an apple at The Ritz but that's another interview.

There's something I've observed about my performances: behind much of what Honey says or lip syncs on stage, there's usually an attitude of "--and I shouldn't even have to be saying this..."

You were involved in the staged gay weddings of couples on the street that Bob, Frostie Flakes and other friends used to oversee, as a public protest to anti-gay marriage before it was legalized. What’s your “favorite” memory from those times?

Yes! Those were started by Bob, Frostie, and Azraea. I used to be a waiter at... *sigh*... I used to be a waiter at Dave & Buster's in Times Square. And so I could never join--nor even see them on Saturdays. For the first many months, I would be at work knowing that my best friends were fighting for our rights just blocks away. Finally, I worked out my schedule so that I could join them.

My favorite memory was the first time Bob and I walked down the "aisle" together. It was a pretty well-staged and scripted event. We walk towards the "priest" as if down the aisle, and then we exchange "wishes" instead of vows. We wish for a world where foster children aren't refused parents, where gay men can donate blood, and other protections for LGBTQ people.

As we were walking the aisle, Bob said to me, "get ready for this moment. When you turn around, there are going to be about 200 people hanging on your every word. It's a really powerful experience."

I turned around and held Bob's hands, wedding style. We started the ceremony. What seemed like hundreds of people from all over the world gathered around, listened, took photos, applauded... and I was raising my voice to describe the kind of a world I wanted-- no, DESERVED to live in... Bob was right. It was an incredibly powerful moment.

Bob made me an activist. One day, I came home and Bob said "You know what? Too many gay people just accept the fact that they don't have equal rights. I am not okay with that." And from there, he devised his plans for the Drag Queen Weddings -- and later for blocking traffic as part of Queer Rising.

I discovered veganism around the same time--and because I already had an experience of myself as an activist, it was only natural for me to carry on fighting and demonstrating for animal rights. After working so hard and fighting so fiercely for marriage equality, does it boil your blood to see this monster in the White House so recklessly piss away queer civil liberties?

No. What boils my blood is to see how many friends and family are complicit. Hearing "We love you -- we support you" all my life from so many people, not only my family, only to see them support a man who would piss away my civil liberties. I have never been this angry in my life. I still don't know what to do with that anger.

Honestly, that's what fueled me to bring back this show, and to tell my truth as a gay man. Hearing about the gay holocaust currently taking place in Chechnya, and watching the world just allow it, made me finally say "Fuck it -- why am I sitting back and not giving the world every ounce of me?"

I don't see how the two correlate. But the idea that there are men like me in Russia who... I can't even let myself think about what is happening to them right now. I have an opportunity to live my life that they don't have--and only because of geography, not because I am more deserving of my freedoms.

I refuse to squander those freedoms, so long as I have them.

What specifically motivated you to become an animal rights activist and a vegan?

The book The Face On Your Plate by Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson. My friend John J. Oliver recommended it to me, and after I read that book I knew that I could no longer justify taking the life of an animal for the sake of my palate. And that's all it is.

We don't need to eat them. There is nothing a human being needs from an animal. I actually believed we had to eat them. We don't. But we continue doing so--despite the fact that it causes heart disease, cancer, stroke, diabetes, and all sorts of illnesses that almost never happen to humans who simply don't eat animals.

It really angers me that there are people out there who say "But I could never give up fill-in-the-blank...” meanwhile, their "personal choice" is decimating the only planet we have.

Non-vegans are like Uber passengers who decide to loudly and generously fart in your car, and when you tell them you can't breathe, they tell you you're pushing your beliefs on them. Sorry, not sorry.

So then, what would you say to someone who states they would never become a vegan because it would be too impractical of a lifestyle?

I tell them if I can do it, they can. There is nothing about me that would ever suggest I'd become a vegan. I am born to a food business family in Wisconsin. My mom is a dairy celebrity. My dad's family owned a German American restaurant that was in our family for four generations. There is nobody alive who was brought up on more meat and cheese than myself. Anyone, from any culture, can point to any aspect of that culture and cite reasons why they "could never" be vegan. And yet, there are people from every single one of those cultures who are making it happen.

No, it isn't more expensive. No, you don't have some blood type or rare disease that requires you eat animals. No, you wouldn't have to learn to cook all your own food.

How am I so certain? Because I've already been in the other person's shoes. I lived the first 30 years of my life arguing the opposite point. I am delighted to have learned I was wrong.

Tell us a little about your cooking web show, The Vegan Drag Queen.

I became a drag queen about a month before going vegan (though I had already been vegetarian a few months, transitioning to veganism and doing all my research). When I finally made the switch, I was living in a remote part of Brooklyn (Sunset Park) where there was a dirth of options for groceries and restaurants. I didn't have specialty vegan products.

So, I had to rely on YouTube videos to learn how to make things. That's just how I learn. I'm not a reader. I mean, I'm literate, but I can't stand looking at words on a page. I'd rather watch it than read it. I hadn't yet discovered awesome vegan cooking channels like The Vegan Zombie or Black Metal Vegan Chef. I was lucky if I could find some hippie making a cooking demo and filming it with their iPhone.

Some of the YouTubers had engaging personalities. Some had good production values. Some had good personalities. Few had all three. So I decided I could do better. As soon as I thought of a drag queen offering vegan cooking shows online, I knew it was my calling.

My original mission was to show people how to make stuff for themselves without having to rely on specialty products. Why buy seitan or almond milk, when you can make it yourself? But as the show continues, I'm discovering there is also a need for people who just want quick recipe ideas, or creative ideas for putting together the specialty vegan products they already know and love. So, I'm enjoying broadening the show's scope, bringing on guests... and I would love to tell you some ideas I have for future episodes but... I'm sorry... those details are only available to my supporters on Patreon.

youtube

And you also host the Big Fat Vegan Radio podcast!

I'm sorry, the what? Did you just mention my Patreon? Why, thank you for asking! That's right, internet queens can't take your cash tips through the screen. So the only way to support your internet queens is to tip them on a monthly basis! What's three dollars a month to you? You know it won't make or break you. You don't need guac, anyway.

If one out of every five of my Facebook friends supported my Patreon at $3 a month, that would be $3,000 a month! I would be able to afford to do nothing but make content, tour, do shows, offer classes, give speeches...

Seriously, you people! What gives?

Oh, and you probably don't know I also have a podcast. That's okay. I'll tell you about it anyway.

Big Fat Vegan Radio is my baby. I started it just about five years ago with my dear friend Laura, and we just dish about vegan food, culture, and news. About half of our episodes are interviews. We occasionally do silly stuff, like vegan song parodies.

What people like about our podcast is that it's just fun. There are better podcasts out there for hard hitting animal rights news. There are better podcasts out there for information on health and recipes and whatnot. But Big Fat Vegan Radio is your best bet if you just wanna plug in and pretend you’re hanging out with your best friend who happens to be vegan, and who happens to think he's better than everyone else because of it.

Congratulations on being sober and continuing to work in nightlife and the arts… not an easy lifestyle, to say the least. What’s the history of your sobriety?

Thank you. This month I am celebrating nine years clean and sober. You hear more about my pre-sobriety life in Virtual Memory, but if I have an opportunity to talk about my sobriety, what I'd really like to express is that I was (and am) a marijuana addict, first and foremost.

I say that because I want to dispel the myth that marijuana isn't addictive. It's not a matter of whether or not marijuana is addictive as a substance. It matters whether you have the disease of alcoholism.

Not everyone with alcoholism drinks alcohol. The disease is just named that way because problem drinkers were the first group to help us discover that addiction is an illness. If you suffer from addiction, then you can't use marijuana safely. Period.

What you can do is waste a good chunk of your life trying to prove you don't have a problem and that you can manage it. But here's the question to ask yourself honestly: if marijuana has become a priority in your life--if you're running out of money, and you make sure you have marijuana before making sure you have food--well, we're holding a seat for you. There is hope.

I once shot headshots for one of Broadway's greatest leading ladies of all time. I have admired her since I was a young teen, and here I was sitting across from her at Joe Allen's, going over her photos after our session. She was even comforting me as I gushed about my recent breakup. And despite the fact that I am lunching with a Tony winner, all I could think was "How long before I can get out of here, go home, turn off the lights, close the blinds, put my sweats on, crank the AC, pack the bong, and just zone out watching TV?"

If that's all I wanted to do with my life - I didn't need to move to New York.

Also, if I never knew that marijuana addiction stems from alcoholism (whether or not you're a drinker), I never would have known that there was help for me in the 12 steps. People split hairs between alcoholism, drug addiction, or other compulsive behaviors. But the truth is -- there's ONE common solution to all of those problems.

I thank God for my life in Sobriety. I got sober at 29 (right in the middle of my Saturn Return), and I wouldn't trade my best days then for my worst days now. I can't believe how useful I feel today, and how much purpose life has. Not just "my life," but life.

What’s your connection to Iceland? You go there lot to perform and to give lectures, and I recently saw you at Star Search accompanied by a lovely young Icelandic queen.

YOU WERE THERE??? Did you say hi?

I have no real connection to Iceland. I'm just an enormous fan of Björk. After seeing her film Dancer In The Dark, I became even more interested in her, and I really started examining her music more closely. This will sound ridiculous, but I heard something in her music calling to me. Speaking to me. As if it were my ancestors trying to deliver an urgent communication from centuries past. Okay yeah, that's dramatic. But you get the picture.

One day, I found an album of hers I didn't know about: Gling-Gló, It's a jazz album almost entirely in Icelandic. I never knew Icelandic was even a language. Now as a singer, I learned many languages: Spanish, French, Italian, German... I've never heard one of those languages sung before, and thought "My God! What is this I'm hearing? I need to hear more of it!"

But when I first heard Björk sing in Icelandic, I asked myself "Am I going to translate these songs and learn what she's singing about, or do I just let go and listen passively?" The next thought was this: "Ben... FOUR year olds know what she's singing about!!!" It made no sense, but it convinced me.

In 2002, I started teaching myself Icelandic... which is tough, not only because it's the 10th most difficult language, but there are very few resources for it. Especially back then (nowadays, surprisingly, there are many more people interested in learning it.)

I visited Iceland first in 2003, then again in 2006, then not until 2012. I returned last summer, and I am going there next week for my fifth visit.

By now, I have so many friends in Iceland that it doesn't make sense not to go there often. I've also connected with Drag-súgur, a local drag group there, and so I'll have an opportunity to do a few drag shows. I spoke there at the second annual Reykjavík Vegan Festival last year, which was such a treat because when I visited in 2012 people acted like they didn't know much about veganism. Four years later it was much more prominent, and I'm told that since last year, it has grown even more. So I can't wait to see what's in store for me -- especially on my cheat days!

Okay, let’s talk more about your one-man-show Virtual Memory. How would you describe the play?

I hate calling it a "coming-of-age gay play,” but it's a coming-of-age gay play. In short, it's about everything that's "wrong" with me--and learning to love myself exactly the way I am. But the show is not as trite as that last sentence was.

Mark Finley is directing me and lending his vision to the writing. Thank God I have someone to help me edit. Could you imagine if my play read like the answers to this interview? I mean, come on! How have you been handling the challenge of acting in a work of your own writing?

It's kind of weird, acting in my own stuff. I keep thinking of what Elaine Stritch said about her one woman show At Liberty. Watching the show, it just looks like she's acting natural up there. Like she couldn't possibly go up on a line, because she's just telling her story.

I realize now what she meant when she said "I am an actor playing the role of myself." It's very different. I don't just get to be myself. I am still very much playing a character, in the sense that I'm not today who I was at the time of whatever scene I'm playing.

Fortunately, I'd say it's been a lot easier memorizing lines when I wrote them myself. Except the question has become "which VERSION of the line is it by now???"

We’re all highly anticipating this play. What else is coming up for you?

Did I mention I have a Patreon? Because I do. And people can support me. Because who doesn't love tipping drag queens?

Seriously. There are so many creative projects just languishing on the back burners of my brain, because instead of creating, I'm busy schlepping to pay the bills. If the people who enjoy my work -- and who can honestly afford to do so -- would pledge a dollar, three dollars, ten dollars, whatever they can per month... It would make it possible for me to devote 300% more of my week cranking out content and creating things that change the world.

Lastly, you want plugs? Here are some random things I'm proud of that people might not ever know to look up...

My White Christmas (White Privilege) parody song

My favorite drag performance ever (with Miz Cracker)

Me draining the water on my knee with help from Bob The Drag Queen

Check out my cooking show!

I just launched my merch store! So buy some shit!

Last question… if “Virtual Memory” ever gets a big Broadway—or even big screen--treatment, who should play Ben?

Judy Tenuta.

Thanks, Honey!

Honey LaBronx aka Ben Strothmann’s play “Virtual Reality” will be performed as part of Dixon Place’s HOT! Festival on Friday, August 4th (7:30pm). Follow Honey on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, YouTube and Patreon.

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pocketsizedsam-blog1 · 6 years

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Doing What’s Necessary (Femme!Dean x Femme!Sam)

Pairing: Sister!Dean x Sister!Sam

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Implied Smut, Pregnancy

It wasn't any girls dream to become a prostitute- no- their dream was to become a stripper. Sixteen-year- old Deanna worked long hours under her father's nose just to keep her little sister Sammy safe. If she had been a boy, this would've been different.

"But why do you have to go again, Deanna?" Twelve-year-old Samantha pouted.

"Because, Sammy. I have to." Was always her response.

Deanna headed into the bathroom after grabbing her suit from under the bed. It was black lace all over, the only solid fabric parts were around her crotch, ass and nipples. Deanna grabbed her jacket and slipped into a pair of pants so Sammy wouldn't see what she was wearing. Sam always wanted to be like her sister and Deanna didn't want this for Sam. Deanna walked for about ten minutes before the club "Jackson's club" came into sight. Deanna jumped out of her pants and hung them up along with her jacket in the back room. The black lace body suit was a little loose on her her body. The material on her torso clung right to her body, but the material on the legs and arms were bagging. It was the style, she supposed. The clubs owner/Manager popped his head into the room.

"Deanna. You're out on stage next. Screw this dance up and your pay check is cut in half." Mark scowled.

Mark's threat didn't mean much to Deanna. She was his best girl! Deanna slipped her heels on, which brought her up another five inches. She swayed her hips as she headed out onto the stage. There were about fifty or so, middle aged, drunken men in the room, some getting lap dances from the other girls in the back of the room whereas the other men were crowded around the stage. Deanna finished her dance with the sound of the men clapping. She hopped down off stage, only to be met by Mark, who had a proposition for her.

"I've got a guy out back. He's willing to pay extra for our 'Best Girl'. Get your ass in room one and show him a good time, Deanna."

She made your way into the back where she found several different tiny rooms, all closed off by a curtain and all labelled one through fourteen. She pulled the curtain over a little bit, looking in to find a man, sitting in the chair waiting impatiently. Deanna entered the room, smiling at her customer. Deanna wasn't known for her honesty at the club. She was known to jack up her prices when she believed a man was able to pay her. There was also women at the strip club, they just weren't as common. Deanna would go down on men and women... as long as they paid her.

"What do you cost, pretty lady?" The old man grinned.

He smelled like expensive cologne and the club's finest rum. His fingers gripped his cold glass that was still halfway filled with the rum that she could smell off him. He could definitely pay Deanna good.

"It's $60 for the lap dance, $120 for a blowjob and specially for you, $230 for sex- protected sex." Deanna purred.

She wasn't really supposed to have sex with her clients. She only offered that to the old bags with a lot of money and she upped her prices for there old bags with money too.

"I'll give you $300 for no condom." He offered.

She paused to think.

"$400, no condom." she countered.

"You got it, pretty lady." He growled. "Throw a blowjob in there too. I want to see what that pretty mouth can do."

"Extra costs, sweetheart." Deanna warned. "That'll be $520 for a blowjob and unprotected sex."

"I don't care, just get on your knees and suck me off." The man growled.

She did as he said. He paid her in full, and with that cash he gave Deanna, she would buy a package of that plan B shit. She didn't need to get pregnant from some old man who fucked her in her strip club for $520. She could've made even more off that guy! After doing up her suit again, Deanna headed out to see her manager.

"Excellent work, Deanna. Now there's another customer in room five. She asked for our best girl."

She. Like Deanna had said, they don't get many women, but Deanna wasn't afraid to do them too, for cash. After Deanna headed back down and found the curtained off stall labelled five, she slipped inside and gave the lady a smile. The lady was petite, she had big, dark eyes and shoulder length, brown hair that was pinned back out of her face.

"Hi sweetheart." Deanna purred.

"Hi." The woman said nervously. "My name is-"

"-oh no names, honey. I don't like attachments. You're new at this huh? First time?"

The woman nodded yes.

"Well... I'll show you a good time... for a price of course. Lap dances are $30, oral is $60, and fingering is $80, special prices for a special lady." Deanna smiled.

Deanna treated that lady as well as she treated the man before her. Deanna didn't feel naughty anymore- she just felt plain dirty. After a few people, Deanna was just tired and she didn't want to do it anymore- but there was one force driving her. Her love for her sister. She needed to do this for Sammy. Deanna took a break then checked in again with her manager. He told her about another man who asked for his best girl. Deanna headed into the long hallway with curtained off rooms again and found room number 11.

She pushed the curtain open, watched the ground as she walked and said, "hi, I'm Deanna, what Can I do for you, ba-"

She immediately cut herself off. Her hands flew to cover up certain parts of her body.

"Oh my god!" She cried out.

John looked up at his daughter with horror on his face. John was prepared to deal with any monster, but he could've never expected this.

"De-Deanna?" John shrieked.

"Oh my god!" Deanna repeated. "Dad?!?"

"Jesus Christ. What the hell are you doing here? What are you wearing? Deanna Winchester! You are in big trouble!"

"What are you doing here? Is this what you do when Sammy and I think you're hunting?" Deanna growled. "God, I bust my ass to make money to make sure Sam has food on her plate and clothes on her back. Turns out that money I make goes right back into the clevage of strippers I work with!"

"Deanna." John said sternly.

"No! No! Don't you Deanna me." She sniffed, using a curtain to cover herself. "I do this for Sam. So SHE doesn't have to. So SHE can be a regular kid in this screwed up family. And you throw it all away. God, I am so embarrassed."

Deanna found it hard to swallow as she pulled away from her father in the room. She stormed down the hallway, straight to her managers office.

"I can't serve that man. Get another girl to do it." She told Mark.

"And why not? You're supposed to be a good little girl and do whatever our customers say."

"That man is my... my dad." She cringed, thinking about how the things she's done with other men would have to be done on her dad.

"So?"

"You're fucking gross! I don't know if you know what the word dad means?! I'm not going to give my father a lap dance, or a blowjob and I'm sure as hell not going to have sex with him! Lose my number- I fucking quit!" Deanna exploded.

As Deanna stormed outside, not even bothering to change, John caught up with her.

"Deanna-" He started.

"Don't!" She demanded. "Go away."

He refused, "let me drive you home."

"No! You're gross, going to strip clubs to have strange, perverted women suck on your dick."

Deanna couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth! She would've never in a million years talk to her father like that. John sighed and took off his jacket. He wrapped the leather jacket around his daughter's shoulders. When she tried to shrug it off, he fixed it up.

"You're a strange, perverted woman now? That's not the Deanna I know." John spoke softly.

Deanna never heard him talk like that before. What was he being so nice to her? He should be furious with her for basically selling her body.

She wasn't a prostitute, by no means. There was a big difference between being a stripper and a prostitute.

"I don't know what I am... A slut?" She snuffed and shrugged, pulling her dad's jacket closer to her body.

"You're not a slut." John whispered.

"Yes dad. I blow men and go down on women all day! I had a man ask me a day or so ago to finger him in the ass. I fingered a woman today and I had unprotected sex with an old, drunk man for $520. I've been doing it all for Sam! I love her so much! She deserves so much more than I can give her, dad." Deanna sobbed.

"You've given her a lot. Sam should be proud to have a sister like you. I can't believe you've doing this and I didn't notice!? I'm so sorry, baby girl. I'll be a better father. I will spend 100% of my money on you and Sam- to make sure that you two have a roof over your heads, clothes on your backs and full tummies." John promised.

Deanna and John would never speak about the strip club incident again. Not until little twelve-year-old Sammy became curious of her sister's "illness".

"Why won't anyone tell me what's going on? Deanna's been sick forever now!" Sam whined.

Deanna decided it was time to come clean, "I'm pregnant."

Weeks had passed since Deanna worked at the club, she must've never got the plan B pulls into her quick enough after that time she had unprotected sex with the old man. Deanna decided to tell Sam everything. John supported that decision and sat with Deanna as she told her little sister the truth- the whole truth. Once Deanna finished her big spiel about loving Sam and doing this for Sammy, Samantha Winchester looked to the floor, guiltily.

"It's my fault you're pregnant." She frowned.

"No, Sam. It's not. It was my choice to protect you the way I did. It was my fault I got pregnant, not yours."

Deanna wouldn't change what she had done in a million years! She was glad to have the support of her father and her sister behind her. Protecting Sammy and now this baby would always be Deanna's number one priority. She was doing what was necessary.

#Sam Winchester #dean winchester #john winchester #castiel #crowley #Jared Padalecki #Jensen Ackles #jeffrey dean morgan #Misha Collins #Mark Sheppard

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peppercornnaseaofsalt · 6 years

Text

There’s a Special Set of Rules for You

Dear Reader,

Welcome back. This month has been a busy one. Lots of shifts and changes in my universe, so expected, some reflective, at times bittersweet. Such as life. Speaking about life, let us circle back around to my very first blog post, there are layers to my ish. During which, I touch upon things very definite about myself and will most likely never change. I am an introvert by nature and although as open minded and loving I can be to people because I choose the path of “do unto others as others undo to you,” I tend to often get the short-yet somehow – long NEGATIVE end of the society stick. This as I said in my post is why I end to loath people as collective since they tend to be short sighted in human nature and empathy. I blame stereotypes and social bias that mass media continues to shove down the throat of the masses which feeds the tradition of treating all black and brown people like trash because of what someone “saw on TV.” Let me speak on fairly my personal experiences of this negativity as an adult.

Ah little innocent wide eyed, glass is half FULL, Peppercorn. After taking on college, she was ready to take on the real-world head on, no holding back, kicking asses take names, breaking barriers with her persistence and can do attitude. Watch out! Or so she thought. Two years of interview struggles. She knew she had a descent GPA, short yet steady work history, professional speech, and personality. So, often was Peppercorn, presented with glowing opportunities to work here, there, everywhere, as her glowing recommendations made her a stellar candidate for the entry level position. She would speak to interviewer with a touch of eager and hope with every breath. Obviously, when the in-person interview day came, she dresses like the job you want to have, pants press, shirt and blazer crisp, hair pulled back, smile on her lips, and resume in hand. Walk in the building head held high and gave the receptionist her namesake and patiently waited as she arrived 15 minutes before time.

The employer walks through the door, depending how not so good their poker oh face was she would know instantly if she even had a chance at landing the position. That’s the thing with me. Name white on paper, bachelor’s degree major in a science that has 98.8% white classmates, and “white” phone voice. SURPRISE! I’m BLACK. Which your facial expression just let out your not so secret, secret out. Countless of interviews that were shorten due to an automatic “company culture” no from them. Nothing like, spending hours reading up on a company, fretting on your look, sleepless night due to anxious excitement of full time work, and driving 30+ minutes to have, what should be a 30-45minute interview turn into a 5 minute one due to you being the wrong color. My skin by stereotypical default made me a liar, cheat, and incompetent worker. Heartbreaking. My wallet as drier than my phone’s DMs.

I finally landed a part time work at a local bookstore. I was happy just be given a chance. I was told by my manager that he gave me the job because I had a good attitude even after I was told by him that all the positions were filled. That’s right my personality won me a job that wasn’t even open. That happy high didn’t last long. That particular manager got transferred. In walks in new manager who, looks at me and my name and puts a vindictive target on my back. nothing like having a coworker ask you, “Why is Yuko so mean to you. You were just doing your job and she starts questioning you like you were just messing around and doing nothing.” So why me you ask? Oh because another black girl with the same name from Yuko’s old store was rude so, I must be the same as her. Eye roll. Needless to say, despite me openly seeing people I helped right good reviews on comment cards and working there nearly 3 years, I never got a single raise.

Next job I got, I got because my cultural knowledge but, mostly how I demonstrated how I truly am a quick study when it comes to doing computer tasks. And it was a temporary full time, even better. I was only working a week or so before I got a random phone call asking me if was still looking for work. An interviewer from nearly a year prior was looking to hire me full time with benefits to come work at their Asian food company. It was closer to my home and paid a dollar more so, I left my temp job for one with more promise. Ha, short sided and misguided decision.

I ended up at a job that any Asian culture and food lover would have jump at it. I was excited to show what I already knew, to learn, to grow, toprosper. But that all took a nose dive quickly into no matter what you say or do you will NEVER be excepted. I arrived bright eyed and came out jaded. I can safely say that due to horrible management, segregation, slanderous gossip, and stereotype orchestrated by an evil person turned a entire group against me. It was all hearsay and I paid for it with my optimism, empathy, and mental health. It rocked my loving core. I became so jaded and saw nothing but unacceptable behavior. I’m so sad there will be no repercussions for the man who made my life a living hell because I was BLACK AND FEMALE. I know karma will get him eventually but, I wish he would have lost the job he managed to keep while being rude racist sexist vindictive cold hearted person. He was rude to a number of Asian women in the office but, I was the only one who spoke up to HR (whom I learn only looks out for the company’s best interest, not the individual). It’s just like protest, most people only pay attention to a problem if there’s large enough push back, big enough voice, and an event ultimately affects them. Sadly, being the only BLACK PERSON, working in a company Asian owned, where only Asian men only hold any positions of power, and refuse to talk to people respectfully in English (no matter how little or broken spoken) there is no lawful justice for you.

Why was I moved to a desk literally tucked away in a corner away from everyone else for 18 months straight. The only social interaction you have is with people who don’t know where to find the toner for the Xerox machine. No one invites for you to the weekly meetings, where your job performance and tasks are discussed at large before your new supervisor, who changes as frequently as dirty underwear before it your required list of tasks changes again. OHHH the departmental luncheons, you can forget about those because you are never invited by email or in-person unless the only woman, who treats you like you are her work-daughter, invites you.

I ended up connecting more with warehouse staff than the people I spent 40+ hours a week stuck in a huge fluorescent lit room with. They, my fellow brown people (of the Latin background) treated me with human respect and welcome me as I was. That was that messed up jobs one saving grace, that at least at the hour lunch break, I felt like I belonged when most of the day I was treated like a diseased leper.

After coming back from my big birthday vacation, I decided I had had enough and quit this hell on earth job. It was no longer servicing my spirit and would not allow me to grow career or finance wise. I ended up spending 2017 unemployed without collecting unemployment because I quit and wasn’t fired. I started the horrendous cycle of online application and interview process again and got the same results I saw back when I first entered the real world in 2010. I am so jaded and cold inside. I filed a discrimination claim with EEOC only to learn that although my evidence against the company was insidiously bad, that I filed TOO LATE. The acts mentioned had be aged out passed the 120 allowed time to speak up. In other words I should of reported the onslaught of abuse and harassment to the government instead of HR. I do not trust people and I vow to no longer work for a company that is mostly Asian again. Note: I will continue to love my Asian brothers and sisters because I will NEVER judge a person off their cultural background.

I learn my lesson. Doesn’t matter how quiet, polite friendly, I am. Doesn’t matter how many loaves of banana bread I bake and share with my office mates. I will NEVER symbolically break bread with them even if I PHYSICALLY break bread from my home with them. Hell, I don’t even want to permanently tattoo a Japanese phrase on my skin anymore. It would just be a reminder of how badly I was treated. I am not them. I don’t look like them so, I cannot SIT with them. If could have told my 14-year-old me that this was going to happen, warned her to be closeminded cause the world is closedminded. They won’t see your heart they will only see your skin, my dear. I would hope bright eyed, bushy tailed me would listen. But time doesn’t work in reverse it only pulsated forward.

I am unique, so there are a special set of rules for me. It’s a BLACK TAX, and I cannot take it back.

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rights-and-power-blog · 7 years

Video

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Letter to my black people in Honor of Black History Month

Back in the 60s we stood together, we marched and fight together, we made demands and got answers, today all we do is follow others, we have no concern about our situation. I am talking to the smart, the dumb and the retards you have to pick which one you are, we have are following those who are protesting but dont realize we are hurting the worst, when those celebrities are out there protesting against the president they have special interests and none of them are your concerns, Madonna is protesting, Cher is protesting among many even your Steve and Al Sharpton against Trump but none of them live in your community or dodging bullets, when the last time you see any of them in your community Steve Harvey brag how he has police body guarding his home, Al sharpton lives in the heels of T-Neck when the last time you see or any of those people in your community? not one time and none of you can serve as witness they have no idea what goes on in the black community other than what they see on the news or may someone who runs with them still lives in the community.

while those folks are against the president they are hurting the community if the president sign a policy that will help the community because those people are so against him those of us who needs help suppose to suffer just because a number of Americans refuse to accept the reality. I have heard many says they are so against Trump they would not talk to him and would not work with him, well let me understand the intelligent mind, how are we suppose to get help for our community if we wont talk to the president who constantly writing policies before his 100 days, how are we suppose to raise awareness and make demands? if Donald trump call a black person a nigger he was not talking about me because before him i knew who i was and know who i am, when he was talking the stuff he was talking he was not talking about me, when he was grabbing women the way he did he was not grabbing my daughter either Trump or any man who degrades my daughter would not still be alive, i raised my daughter like a young lady she is now a teenager i am a father and will continue to be a father and teach her how she should be treated, therefore Donald Trump is not my concern because i am raising my kids like a father should.

Donald Trump was the only politician to look at black people in the face and tell them the truth, every politicians especially the democratic candidates have been sugar coating you, why dont you tell me how have that been working for you? he told you that your community is filled with crimes, well let see people are moving out of the community everyday including me, and those who cant are afraid to walk these streets, he said your school system is poor and need help, how many graduates do we have going to college and what is the number of the drop outs, he said unemployment is on the rise and there is no family values in the black community, well how many black folks we know with degrees but cant find jobs, many of black women are struggling to raise kids on their own, fathers are gone and they losing control of the kids, can somebody who lives in the black community tell me which part of all that is a lie? because i am still one who is from the community and still walks the community when ever i please, any one who says they would not work with the president is a damn fool, to any one of the people you know who will not sit down and talk to Donald Trump please ask them what better solution they have to help the black community, when will they start the process and give us the numbers, names and websites of the groups who will start helping because as of right now we are in a crisis.

If i could meet President Trump today i would explain to him why i did not vote for him, i would tell him why i am still hurting for the reason that i could not vote for him and if he could repair that damage i promise i would stand with him the next election around should he decides to run again. I would also plead to the president about the help the community desperately need and if he can at least help with 25% of the problem i truly believe we can start to get back on our feet to a better tomorrow. Many brag about the former president Obama, yes he did a lot of good things, but who exactly did they benefit? when Obama set aside funds for the holocaust victims, he never even acknowledge the slave victims even your black president treated you like you never existed, for 6 years under president Obama my health plan went from $120 biweekly to $451 now that the new president signed the executive order my health provider not only refund me for the month of January, but they also make the adjustment of the new premium at $249.51 because they are keeping some stuff in the affordable care policy, while you are out there protesting because things dont work your way, think about what if some of us were out there protesting against everything we did not agree with Obama, why dont you do the math of the difference i was being charged on my health care every two weeks and see how much money i could of save and invest toward my kids future, thanks to your great president Obama many of us had to suffer yet we never raise hell.

while Obama was president he had many opportunity to set policies to protect every American citizens from police brutality especially people of color in this country just like he did with Obama care a simple general policy, instead he done nothing but making fancy speeches, some people came to his defense and says well he went to some of the funerals in Chicago if that is such of big deal do you know how many funerals i have been through with victims from gun violence do you know how many funerals i have assist with financially and support with rallys? believe me your former president did not please so many of us, but we were not out there protesting. Black people need to wake up and look around, who really standing with you? when the 49 people got shot at the gay club the country stood up to band guns and change the gun laws, but when we are shot even though they say they know where the guns are coming from, they still wont tell you who are bringing those guns in the black community, because they know from the local officials and top politicians are involve so the black community become the black market for those with greed. Because so many people are against Trump they even attack his kids where they have a campaign against Ivanka Trump called "GrabYourWallet" in order to pull her products off the shelf, well guess what majority of those big chain store outlets continue to stop selling her products. Now are you retarded black people, are you paying attention? white America can watch a black man shot dead like a dog left to bleed to death, or a college kid by the name or Mike Brown shot dead by cops, a grand father by the name of Eric Garner choked to death by a bunch of Cops where he repeatedly crying he cant breathe they did not care but took his life, those are innocent black people we watched on video as they took their last breath not one time white America stood with you, not one time white America cry with you, but like a bunch of fools with no concern trying to fit in are out there protesting, but can you tell me what exactly you expect to get out of all that? until you love your self no one will value anything you have until they can use you.

For Years democratic candidates lied to us, they disrespect us, they give hand outs to those who refuse to grow in order to keep their silence because of that the rest of us are out numbered, The former president you called the first black president "Bill Clinton" signed the crime bill in 1994 that same crime bill put away fathers, brothers, and sons in prison and you still worship him and his wife like a God, Bill clinton collect about 9 Billion dollars from the international community for the earth quake victims in Haiti, today Haiti remains the poorest country full of diseases but no one question the Clinton Foundation to find out the role of that money, yet you reward him by supporting his wife to become president, should he was a black man with all that money would you treat him the same? John Lewis took a seat for Gun laws when the 49 shooting took place at the gay night club, where is John Lewis when innocent black people are dying by gun violence in the black community, where is John Lewis when the racist cops are killing innocent black people, where have John Lewis been? all those years he has been in congress, what have John Lewis do to help the black community, how is the black community in John Lewis district are growing?

When John Lewis had his little feud with Donald Trump you people called him a hero just because he marched during the civil rights movement, well he is not my hero, John Lewis said he never met Bernie Sanders during the civil rights movement, he made it seem that Bernie sanders contribution did not mean anything, but he said he did meet the Clinton, if John Lewis is a hero for marching in the civil rights movement what about the young kids, the men and women who lost their lives during those marches, did they die in vain, are they not our Heros? John Lewis have the opportunity to tell his story, he has the opportunity to make changes, but what have he done ever since, if John Lewis is so against the president for what he stands for, but not for what he can do to help the black community, does John Lewis have a solution, if he does how come we have not heard about it? may he can make a press conference and tell us about his plan that can help the black community, how and when will he start working on such plan. The world knows you hate your self which is why our community refuse to grow, outside of the black community every one else are rising up everyday, sit down take a look at your self, trace your step back, evaluate your actions and decisions, and just may be we might be able to grow together, but without love and unity you will continue to fall as you will find your self back to modern day slavery.

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