#blasting the fuckin loser into the sun

[the-horsemen-ride]

Horseman playlist ig??

Only a list of songs for now bc I need to sort shit out and actually fuckin download spotify or whatever. So when I actually make this I might make five different playlists and sort these out by specific horsemen vibes or whatever. But i want to put this playlist on this blog so it might just be in one piece. I might even add songs

Lampshades On Fire - Modest Mouse

Dashboard - Modest Mouse

King Rat - Modest Mouse

Willow Tree March - The Paper Kites

The Yawning Grave - Lord Huron

White Winter Hymnal - Fleet Foxes

King And Lion Heart - Of Monsters and Men

Pale White Horse - The Oh Hellos

Where Is Your Rider? - The Oh Hellos

No Children - The Mountain Goats

Hate Rain on Me - AJJ

Loser - Beck

Bad Blood - Bastille

Icarus - Bastille

Blast Doors - Everything Everything

Spring Sun Winter Dread - Everything Everything

Cedarwood Road - U2

Raised by Wolves - U2

These Days - Foo Fighters

DESTROYA - My Chemical Romance

Shijurui Burning - Nero’s Day At Disneyland

Playing God - Paramore

Told You So - Paramore

Ain’t Been Eating, I’m Just Wasting Away - Cocainejesus

Icky - Cocainejesus

Beware - Death Grips

Same Damn Life - Seether

Cowboys From Hell - Pantera

Semi Charmed Life - Third Eye Blind

Come Out and Play - The Offspring

You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid - The Offspring

Black Hole Sun - Soundgarden

Evil - Interpol

Frank Sinatra - Cake

War Pigs - Cake

All Your Friends - Coldplay

Death and All His Friends / The Escapist - Coldplay

It’s The End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine) - REM

#long post #binding of isaac #yes this is my taste in music #hope you like it #some of these fit story/character wise some are Just Vibes #i wonder if people can tell which songs remind me of which horsemen #some are all together like the last song but #most i assign to one haha #and ill probably make sperate playlists cuz #i dont think i can put all these on the same playlist w/o messin up da vibes #feel free to ask abt song choice #i kinda wanna add moving to mars but then this playlist would make me cry

[sheps-shepherd]

50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You.” 

3. Traveling long distances just to see them.

Harley had his headphones in only because he was doing the dishes in the kitchen while his mother and sister were in the living room watching a show together, and his mama didn’t raise him to be rude like that. The fade of Metallica blasting in his ears as his phone began to ring had him haphazardly wiping a hand dry on his jeans before digging into his pocket to see who it was.

A picture of Peter’s beaming face stared back at him, backlit by the sinking sun in the sky behind him, looking over his shoulder when Harley had called his name. It was one of Harley’s favorites; he’d set it as his boyfriend’s contact photo immediately after taking it - he’d posted it on Instagram, too, for their one year anniversary.

“I’m in the kitchen, so keep it PG, Parker,” he said, setting his phone down on the counter as he went back to his task.

“Ha ha,” Peter’s voice crackled in his ears. “We both know you’re the one who needs an R-rating, Keener.”

Harley smirked at that.

“What’s up, darlin’? What’d you do today?”

Peter launched into the play-by-play of his day without further prompting, clearly excited to tell Harley all about it, like he always was. And Harley listened with a smile on his face, because his boyfriend was too damn cute for his own good, and anything that warranted such excitement on Peter’s end was important on Harley’s, no matter what.

“-and oh! That new ice cream parlour opened up! I passed by it today and it looks so nice inside! We have to go when you’re back, Ned and MJ went and they said it’s really good!”

“You should have gone with them,” Harley said, scrubbing at a pot. “You didn’t hafta wait for me.”

“Harls,” Peter said, exasperated, like he couldn’t believe Harley had even suggested that, “you’ve been excited for that place since you saw the ad for it. Of course I’m waiting for you. Besides, I’m gonna take tons of pictures of your face when you see it, it’s so cool.”

“Lookin’ forward to it then.” And he wished they’d been on FaceTime, because he could picture the bright happy smile on Peter’s face, the one he missed more than he was willing to admit.

“Speaking of,” Peter chirped on, “have you figured out what you’re doing for your birthday tomorrow? If you won’t be able to talk until later, I understand, I just wanna make sure.”

“Actually, Mama’s already invited you to dinner,” Harley said. “So be ready and on FaceTime by six o’clock sharp, or you don’t get a plate.”

“God, I miss your mom’s cooking,” Peter mused, dreamily, because he already knew every path straight to Harley’s heart. “Is she making peach cobbler?”

Harley glanced over at the mess of ingredients his mother had brought home from the grocery store that afternoon, stacked on the countertop like a glorified pyramid.

“We’re makin’ it in the morning,” he answered. “She said she wasn’t gonna risk me eatin’ it all.”

“Don’t act like you don’t know she was right.” Harley just laughed. “FedEx me a piece.”

“‘Course, darlin’.”

“Oh, I almost forgot! I shipped your present out today. You should get it by the end of the week.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for it.”

In the short lapse of silence before Peter’s reply, Harley heard knocking at the front door. He grabbed a dish towel to dry his hands, calling out, “I got it, Mama!” and tossing it back onto the counter. “Hang on, Pete, I’ll be right back.”

“Kay,” Peter chimed in his ear, right before Harley took his headphones out and dropped them down beside his phone. He strode out of the kitchen and into the living room, passing behind the couch his mother and sister were curled up on.

He was opening the door, ready to lean his hip against the threshold like he always did, when he froze on the spot.

Because standing on the doorstep with his phone held out right in front of Harley’s face was Peter Parker. He had a duffle bag hanging off his shoulder and the same big bright grin Harley had been thinking about not five minutes ago.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” he said, turning it so Harley could see the photo of his own shocked face that Peter had just taken. “We’re keeping that one.”

He took his phone back and tapped away at it, and Harley knew it was going to pop up again somewhere, probably tomorrow in whatever sappy birthday post Peter made for him - his birthday, that he had already celebrated with Peter and May before leaving New York because Peter hadn’t been able to come to Tennessee with him this time around.

Or at least, that was what he’d told Harley.

Peter looked up, his grin still bright, and said, “So are you going to hug me or what?”

That got Harley moving, had him stepping onto the concrete outside his door, ignoring the way it scratched the bottoms of his bare feet as he practically fell into Peter’s arms, knowing Peter would catch him.

And Peter did, wrapping Harley in his hold with a laugh that echoed around them, squeezing Harley just as tight as Harley was squeezing him.

“Jesus, Pete,” he said, muffling his words in Peter’s shoulder. “What the fuck.”

“Don’t worry,” Peter replied, scratching his fingers through Harley’s blonde curls, “there’s still a present coming for you at the end of the week.”

Like that was what Harley cared about right now.

He pulled back, just enough to see his boyfriend’s face, just enough to reach up and press his palm to Peter’s cheek. “I left three days ago.” He thumbed at the edge of Peter’s grin. “Why didn’t you just come with me?”

“Because then it wouldn’t have been a surprise.” And then, without missing a beat, Peter added cheekily, “Duh.”

“You’re such a dork,” Harley said, voice quaking with the emotion swelling in his throat. His other hand went to Peter’s other cheek. “You’re such a fuckin’ loser, Pete.”

Still, Peter smiled at him. “I missed you too, angel.”

Harley ducked his head and kissed him; sweetly, the way he knew Peter liked, but also with enough force to knock the duffle bag off his shoulder. It landed with a solid plop beside their feet. Peter was apparently too busy kissing him back to mind it much.

“Oh my God, Harley,” came Abby’s voice from behind him, no doubt watching them through the still-open door from her spot on the couch. “Let the poor guy in before you jump his bones.”

“Abigail Rae,” Macy scolded lightly, and Peter clutched onto Harley tighter as he broke their kiss to laugh again.

They finally untangled themselves. Harley reached down to grab the strap of the fallen duffle and hiked it over his own shoulder.

“How long are you stayin’?”

“When’s your flight back to New York?”

“Counting today? In four days.”

Peter’s grin was wide and showed off all his teeth, sparkling brighter than any star in the Tennessee sky could ever hope to.

“Four days, then.”

Harley grinned back, fisted his hand into the front of Peter’s hoodie, and dragged him into the house.

#parkner #keenker #parley #peter parker #harley keener #i am once again here to tell everyone that im so stupid soft for these boys #i tried to go write other things i did not succeed #i love them your honor #this was also inspired by a note on my phone lovingly titled #a compilation of thoughts about harley keener #do with that what you will

[eastbluenative]

Pains Part 2 (idk how to categorize this one)

[part 1]

————————

You were folding blankets when the sound of your boyfriend’s angry shouting began to fill the empty hall way leading to your room. You had been waiting for him to get out of the shower before you two went to join everyone else in the common area. You sighed and tossed the blanket on your bed before going to open the door to your room so he could come in without throwing it open, breaking it again, and being even louder.

“I just CAN’T fucking believe it! How the hell-“ Katsuki walked into your room and threw down his duffle bag, “was SERO,” he raised his left arm out to his side to emphasize, ”OF ALL PEOPLE even able to manage a hit like that?!” He was dressed in a black tank top and grey sweatpants. He looked breathtakingly hot and if you weren’t on your period you’d 100% be in your bed with him. You loved the way the late afternoon sun was making him glow. His hair wasn’t completely dry yet so it wasn’t at its maximum fluffiness, but you just wanted to stare at him for a few seconds. Maybe minutes.

There was bandaging around his right shoulder where he was struck by one of Sero’s punches during training. You just so happened to witness the exact moment he is complaining about. Sero used the wall adjacent to him to his advantage and shot his tape at it, sticking to it and propelling himself towards your boyfriend. He was then able to dodge Katsuki’s blast and land a kick on his left shoulder.

He turned around to close the door semi-agressively. Katsuki didn’t know that you were watching him in between breaks of your own training so you stopped him before he could explain it.

“Welllll Katsu,” you cooed. You were on your period and were trying your hardest not to go off on him. You hated hearing him belittle other people when they hurt his pride. He took it very seriously when he was beaten, or even just hit by someone’s attack. People know he is capable of being the best and he refuses to lose that image.

“You let your ego get in the way so your guard was down. You know everyone in our class is improving right? Even though you may be the best it doesn’t mean you’re invincible and untouchable.” He listened to you but was still muttering things about Sero being stupid and irritating. As he complained he walked over to mess with the knick knacks you had on the shelf above your desk. He was trying to avoid your honesty. You watched him turn around and lean back, his hands on your desk to support him. But he felt pain shoot up to his shoulder as he did that so he folded his arms in front of him. His piercing red eyes burned into yours as he refuted, “Tch. You don’t even know what happened, loser.”

You raised your eyebrows to challenge him, a thin and deceitful smirk on your lips. “First of all I was in the same room as you. Second, I was able to watch you get hit when I was taking a break.” As you spoke you moved closer until you were about a foot away from him. He lifted his head up to the ceiling and closed his eyes as he dragged his hand down his face while letting out a grunt.

“Whatever I don’t care!” He shouted in annoyance, ”It’s probably because you woke me up anyway.” His eyes burned into yours while peaking through his blonde hair. You knew he didn’t mean it and was just looking for someone else to blame, but that didn’t change the fact that his words hurt you. Something clicked inside of you and you were mad in response to his insensitivity.

“Oh! Okay, you were up for what? Maybe 10 minutes? I’m so sorry to take away 10 minutes of your precious sleep! Own up to your mistakes, Katsuki.” Your outburst shocked him and left his lips parted with his mouth a little open. He quickly collected himself, not wanting to let you win. He sarcastically laughed and said, “You’re pretty fuckin bold when you’re on your period you know that.” He glared at you while pushing past you to sit on your bed.

You spun around raising your voice to question him. “What are you gonna do about it, Katsuki? Anything? Or are you too tired?” If you had been anyone else he would have knocked you out before you could finish speaking, but instead he viscously smiled down at you. Quickly, he reached out and pulled you into him with his uninjured left arm. You stood between his thighs as he brought his right hand up to cup your cheek. Your eyes flickered between his own and his lips, trying to understand him. His voice was low and clear as he said, “You know... I think you need to be taught a lesson. But we can take a rain check don’t worry.” You shuddered at his words, knowing exactly what type of lesson he was talking about. Damn your period it always ruined everything.

Katsuki leaned down until he was centimeters from your face and his lips almost brushed against yours. He whispered, “For now you can,” his other hand guided yours to the space between his thighs. He was much harder than you expected him to be and when you felt him your eyes grew wide. “Apologize for those harsh, harsh words you just said.” His lips softly landed on the corner of your mouth and he continued down your jaw and neck with soft wet kisses.

You didn’t want to give in to him, but at the same time you really, really wanted to. You knew that he wanted you to resist so that he could have control over you. He also loved when you were submissive. You needed to quickly think of a plan that didn’t involve him winning. He interrupted your train of thought when he began to lick and suck on the skin between your shoulder and neck. Meanwhile his hands snaked around your sides and were grazing your lower back. You tilted your head away from him and moaned softly. That was it. He won. The effect his touch had on you was incomparable, like he controlled you. The simplest touch could instantly give you goosebumps and make your heart flutter, which is exactly what you felt now.

———————— part 3 will be all smut :)

#katsuki #bakugo #bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #bnha #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugō #kacchan #almost smut? #im getting there #angst? i dont think so #sfw #bakugo sfw #bnha katsuki

[boobachu]

The T.C. rambles while watching a force awakes

Re-watching star wars 7 to see if out of the 3D headache IMAX theatre, if it’s any better.

I still hate parody Han Solo guy, like he reminds me of post-Black Knight Sonic the Hedgehog. Just really unfunny and trying way too hard to be hip and internet savvy or something.

I don’t think anything will change my opinion that he shoulda been a bit character.

I’ve decided to commentate the whole fucking movie so read on if you dare.

Rey’s making space bread. It’s very gross.

I doubt anything will change my opinion that she’s the best star wars character.

Oh God BB-8

HBomberguy ruined BB-8 for me. Whenever I see him all I hear is

L I T T L E   W H I T E   C U C K - B A L L L L L L

I guess Rey doesn’t like him either, I forgot this part.

I wish they got rid of the Dorito Destroyer.

Oh boy Darth Helmet is interrogating Lone Star.

Kylo Ren has the stupidest helmet.

There’s subtitles on this so I learned the guy’s name is Poe

RRRAAAAAAAAAAAA

Like Kylo Ren is really badass in the first half I remember this, like he stops a God damn laser blast.

Would you sell BB-8 for 60 meals?

Oh hey

Ugh what’s his name... the storm trooper’s gonna take Poe outta here.

You need a pilot. LOL

I guess Poe is alright, just his first impression was very dumb.

Oh snap it’s hooked down. What kinda name is Hux that’s stupid.

Ha hah shootin’ em down just like Annie in ep 1.

Get fucked command center.

Why do they still have Twin Ion Engine fighters?

I guess we still drive cars so eh...

Ah his name is Finn now, I guess he is a clone? or something?

Maybe they have multiple types of clones. I wonder if they still use Jango Fett...

Fucking proton torpedos!!!

Ah yeah I forgot Finn just wants to GTFO

Trailer shot. Nice.

Oh wait I can turn off subtitles. Good that was disorienting me.

And Poe dies... a great fake-out you thought parody han solo was a protag, but no this is the story of Finn, the storm trooper defecting from nazi hell-space to find his own life on Jakku or wherever.

He keeps Poe’s jacket for cover, very poetic. HAH

POE-ETIC God why did I hate this movie again?

If there’s a Kylo Ren, where is Kylo Stimpy?

Oh God Finn no don’t ugh drank the slop water ugh no why ugh

Finn goes to save Rey cuz white knight trope. Rey can handle herself like a ‘90s chick. Hey she’s a pit chick she’s got a staff.

RUN FINN RUN

Rey fuck taser what

Finn’s having a lousy life.

Poor basketball’s friend died. I feel like the story is rushing.

Like I expected more of a build-up not “SPIT OUT THE EXPOSITION FUCKIN”

Ah, storm troopers...

Rey doesn’t want your cooties, Finn.

Fucking TIE fighters fuck

Is Finn dead? No he just nappin’

Everything exploding!

THE GARBAGE’LL DO

God damn Millenium cheeseburger.

I can do this I can do this

HOW DO YOU FLY A CHEESEBURGER

Fucking karma’s a cheeseburger, that’s what you get for callin’ the SS you loser

The action scenes are choice

Ah Dorito ruins.

Oh I remember this part just

TIE DOWN

oh no Finn down

here it comes

G E T  R E A D Y

fucking engine exhaust TIOGHT

HARD RIGHT

WOOOOOO

Takin’ the shot yeah

Space

CHUCK A  SHIT

ohp

Kylo is Mado

NERD RAGE

AAAAAAAAAA

Kylo is such a 12 year old in 2003.

GIRL?! THERE WAS A WOM?!?!?!?!? XDDD fucking loser

pweese BB-8 help I dunno what I do

fucking lighter thumbs up

Damn Finn what a nerd. “Got a boyfriends? a boyfriend?”

oh no they got garbage dayed

come on Rey gas them gas them all

oh great it’s Han Solo and Chewie

oh wait he used to be Han Solo

What is he now Han Oriana? Whatever Leia’s last name was I never could spell it.

Damn buncha everything happens

Oh great it’s big eyed billy joe armstrong and his O-nauts

WE WUNT OR MUNEY BAEK NAU

oh boy more losers.

It’s all over for Solo.

Ah shit just unleashed things.

There goes the neighborhood just fucking angry meatballs of death AND HE FEEDS THAT DUDE TO IT

oh shit it quiet

Rey is allalone...

Fucking Finn I turn my head a sexond and the meatball caught him.

Get to da cheeseborger

“I never ask that question until after I’ve done it”

Just lightspeed dashed I swear he looks like british billie joe armstrong.

Damn giant fish thing on planet deadly pokeball.

Who is supreme leader he is stupid ugly stupid.

Oh his dad’s Han Solo wow way to blow it spoiler alert fucking why didn’t they save that for the end who wrote this crap oh he was a hologram.

Damn babuy chewie

Ah the new hope plot.

I dunno they twist it enough to make it feel fresh so eh.

Ah a planet of islands... the scenery reminds me of ep 2

“Did you just call me ‘Solo’?”

Women always figure out the truth, always.

There needs to be a han solo inspirational poster that says that.

A job? The fabled... job? You offer job?

Rey has a home? I thought she was just a wayfarer.

Don’t stare “At what?” any of it XDDDDD

Yeah this story feels like it’s going too fast like what’s going on.

HAAAN S O L O

Wait she’s hot for Chewbakka?

Man this band sucks.

Oh great fucking droid nark NARK

Weird lady narks NARKS EVERYTHWIER

Oh boy Darth Helmet is brooding.

Fucking Darth Vader. Kylo Ren is such a fanfiction.

Like, the idea of a warrior of light choosing darkness is something you seldom see done, but... eh... I guess? IRL kids no like most nazis are privilidged and a decade ago would be seen as nerds.

what’s this

what are you doing

The eyes of a man who wants to run

Finn need go bye-bye

Oh wait storm troopers are stolen, not bred. That’s worse like

Finn is really shiny there who does his makeup?

Rey sure didn’t care he was a storm trooper LOL

The screams... they becon me...

Finally a fresh feeling scene.

WHAT’S IN DA BOX

fucking lightsaber

T R I G G E R E D

Is she clairvoyant? I dond’t remember this part.

Is this special edition?

FUTURE

I like specs. She cool.

FUCK D A FORCE

Oh boy nazis

Fucking screamy bitch XDDD

FIST UP why are the nazis doing the fist up this is upsetting.

PEW

How does the laser split up into shit and what is this planet?

Like this is supposed to be dramatic but... you literally don’t know any of those people or any of those planets. This should have been episode 8 or 9 after establishing those planets.

 W H A T    A    W A S T E

oH BOY  Finn got da lightsabah

BEASTS

There goes that dump, way to go Rey it’s your fault I guess BLANKS

Way to kill that soldier

MURDER SPREE

Oh boy Kylo Ren, what a hoot that guy.

wait is this the part?

Han Solo so has the force like if his force3 ghost isn’t in the movie

YOU HAAAVE ONE

Han Solo what a goof

TRAITOR

M E L E E   B A T T L E

Fucking just like in Empire except it’s not Yoda hallucination probably.

Caughted

THE RESISTIES

The x-wing is still the coolest thing like Sonic knew that.

Damn Finn calm down it’s just a pilot.

Rey is in weird jungle o no

She just got godlike and Ren is gonna break that killstreak

MELEE OP

Fucking using cheater force

Kylo you sound like such a dork

That cross saber is still stupid where’s the minorah saber

Nooo Rey!!!

C’mon Finn melee them

fucking lightsaber the whole first order you can do it

just

throw it at the ship

just

throw

and the bad guys win

C-3P0 you mother fucker

Changed your hair

Same Jacket

I can’t believe Carrie Fisher is dead.

The resisties are kinda boring looking.

Oh look it’s Poe, he’s alive somehow.

Maybe the second time I’ll get the good explanation.

Oh no, there’s no good explanation he just wasn’t there.

L A A A A A A A A A A M M M E.

Okay we’re past a new hope kinda in empire strikes back territory and the ending is the last jedi. Like I totally get people being upset that this is basically the original trilogy in a nutshell.

Damn dead R2-D2

Wait C-3P0 has a red arm why

I wonder how many parents relate to Han and Leia because their son turned into a nazi.

Fucking Snoke. What kinda name is that. Solid Snoke.

Was Kylo Ren just staring at Rey’s unconscious body for the past hour?

I’m sorry he’s just not intimidating he looks like a cheap halloween darth vader

Then the dramatic reveal like remember when Darth Vader was so disfigured from burning alive?

Kylo’s just ugly. Like that’s it that’s the reveal. Kylo is ugly.

Rey/Kylo is like whenever a 4chan boy tries to hit on a hot youtube girl like your face just melds into the chair to escape his grasp like a cat that doesn’t want to be pet.

I dunno this scene is just so stupid cuz they both look dorky like this is happening at otakon

You. You’re afraid... that you will never be as strong as Darth Vader

BITCH GOT TOOOLLLLLLD

Kylo has a huge nose. Like he’s Lois Griffin triangle sandwitch nose

I like how Rey tries to Luke Skywalker the storm trooper and he’s like “Serious?”

LOL fucking just left

T A N T R U M   T I M E

and the storm troopers just turn around LOL

Okay I love this weapon like, it’s a combination of the star crusher and a vaccum cleaner from Luigi’s mansion. It destroys the star, but in the way that it uses it to destroy things.

“So it’s big”

Disable the shields... there better be Ewoks on that planet.

Seriously, what does Poe add to the story after the escape?

Damn leila and han... dum

Hey a woman stormtrooper, like just a white gal. I didn’t notice that.

Damn lightspeed their way in.

Hooooh what a landing.

...Han Solo...

That‘s not how the force works!!!

LOL

Finn just wants Rey. I can see why people would think he’s horny for her since that boyfriend line, but that was the last horny thing he said.

Fucking mad with Power, calm down Finn then again we all wanna tell off our boss.

Rey is gonna escappeeeee damn hang on the side of the wall is that a switch what

Rey just climbing that wall like a monkey.

S H I E L D S   D O W N

Fucking Han... is there a trash compactor? You dirty bastard

And here comes the interesting part of Jedi Returns SHOOTY TIME

A T T A C K   T H E   S C P H I N C T E R (that’s how you spell it right)

Oh I love the sun thing like, it’s a great way of showing the timer without a clock.

Oh look it’s Rey, go on and almost get shot to death

H U G

Escape now, hug later.

The cinematography is good I like the dog fights.

LET”S BLOW SHIT UP

I dunno this just really isn’t dramatic at all

Placing bombs, just like in Jedi.

Here comes Kylo

At least he keeps the mask on, like too many movies rely on faces.

oh light’s almost gone.

M A H   B O Y

Ah the stupid part

Wait is his name Finn too?

Like this woulda been way more dramatic if you didn’t know Kylo was Han’s boy.

There’s no music making this awkward and gut-wrenching which you don’t see modern mvoies do.

I’m being torn apart ;w;

What a bitch

Knowing what happens these lines are hilarious

Will you help me

L I G H T S   O U T

red

STAB, STAB, STAB~

AHHHHHH HOOO HOO HOO HOOOIIEEEEE

I dunno like, you’d think Han Solo being stabbed to death with his son would feel more heavy but that was just... nothing.

A S P L O D E

Fucking Kylo TEEF

Night time, being chased by a crazy dork in the woods.

oh here it comes

TRAILER FUEL

YEUR A MUNSTAH

REY DOWN

C’mon Finn

TRAAAIIITOOORRRR

MORTAL KOMBAAAAAAAT

Fucking melee battle

Just fueled by the rage of his fallen friend, the desparation of the sun dissolving he fights for his life against a wounded lunatic.

Okay so maybe that cross saber has a use.

FINN DOWN

grabby time

oh no

REY GRABBED THE SABER

ROUND TWO, DARTH LOSER

This is unbearably xcool

Time to shoot the hole... like in new hope.

This ending is just all three original endinds with new stuff

30 seconds

SNEAKED IN SHOOT EM UP WOOOOOOOO

JUST LIKE ANNIE IN EP 1

only cooler

KA BLOOOOIIEEEE

fuckin’ A

this battle is just like in empire strikes back

fucking planet’s falling apart so it’s better

A tempting offer

Who wants kylo ren to be a teacher like he’d be like a nun

W 0 0 T

it’s the comeback

don’t give the hero a dramatic pause to focus

B E A T   D O W N

the struggle is real

K-O

Take that loser

there seems to be something between us, Ren

Welp the planet is collapsing woo

Finn don’t you die, Poe is a loser you’re cool Finn

Ah it’s Chewie in the Churger

oh yeah han died like I thought it was han but no he died XDDDDD

GTFO

Here comes the sun doot de doo doot~

Epic

Now for the final scene of congrats.

“Sorry General, your boyfriend was stabbed by his son and then the planet exploded”

H U G

Poor Chewie.

Fucking Artoo what are you doing here.

Like, this shoulda been episode 8 here, it feels like it shoulda ended with han’s funeral and the map was the start of the next movie aunno.

And Finn’s tale of a freedom slave blowing up the nazi death planet comes to a close.

Wait is she leaving?

I thought there was a funeral.

Nothing?

Not even an F?

Yeah then se see’s Luke’s hairy ass and it ends so awkwardly like this movie felt like two movies and THIS SHOULDA BEEN IN THE SEQUEL WHAT

Whoever wrote this is an idiot, whoever directed is even worse.

ANyways my conclusion is that the movie isn’t horrible, but... I dunno it’s about as bad as ep2 tho that movie’s crime was being boring, this one was too much story crammed into a short period and ruined opportunities.

I might watch ep 8 but I just am not invested like

HAN SOLO DYING MEANT NOTHING

Like fucking handing him a lightsaber what kinda ending is that

R O G U E   O N E   W A S   B E T T E R.

The end.

#Star Wars #Well that was fun writing down #Might do that more often tho WHO READ THIS? Like if you read this I hope you were entertained

[yourprayer]

to (un)boldly go

the uss derry and her crew are, in every sense, the most useless ship in all of starfleet. but even the most hopeless of hot messes can sometimes manage to get their shit together long enough to make something stick, and the self titled losers of the federation are here to prove that even if you hate the job, you should never fire your garbage man.

that is unless he can’t even take out the trash.

chapter two; the academy 

wordcount - 3.4k

warnings - this is not fckin edited!

read it on ao3

other works

When the spires of the station first came into view through the windows of the old Hanlon farm truck, Bill didn’t know what to think. His brain nearly short circuited; he’d seen photos and pamphlets a heard testimonials about the thing, but he’d never been able to grasp just how big it is.

Mike’s father, Will, turned to look at him from the driver's seat, smiling at Bill’s look of wonder.

“Impressive, huh?” He grinned, Mike now taking notice of Bill’s expression and joining his father’s reaction. Bill simply nodded, too focused on watching small ships slowly float up and away from the tallest towers, hesitating before blasting away in beams of light, shining in the midday sun. Mike’s father laughed at that, and continued. “And these are just the ones for earth transport. You should see the kind you’ll be taking off in.”

The truck sustained its path through the open fields near the base, clouds of dust trailing behind it, confetti in a celebration of change, as Mike and Bill watched with blooming hearts as their future barrelled towards them in the fields of Maine.

It took awhile to get all the way to entrance gate, and even longer to wait in line behind all the others that were in the drop off zone. Mike scanned the area to see if there was anyone else from Derry, the small town where he and Bill hailed. He thought he maybe recognized a face or two, but it was no one they knew well. When they finally reached the unloading zone, tucked away in the shadow of the second highest spire, Will pulled the truck up to the curb and parked it in their designated section. There were about ten spaces along the curb, each with people in varying stages of exiting vehicles. Some were families dropping off young adults, probably just barely a day over the age minimum. Others were older, stepping out of cabs by themselves with only a bag or two in hand. Bill hopped out of the passenger side, reaching the tailgate first and dropping it carefully. He clambered up inside the bed of the truck to grab the two identical duffels that contained everything he and Mike would have moving forward. They’d never travelled before, and were currently the farthest away from home they’d ever been. They had to go buy the bags brand new, hence their purchase of the same one.

Two boys in a small town on Earth, looking up at the stars every night and just… knowing someday they’d be among them.

Mike retrieved the bags from Bill’s outstretched hands and set them on the curb, turning to face his father and Bill as he descended. The tailgate went back up, and the three stood looking at each other with an electric current of excitement and nervousness and sadness and hope flowing through their spirits.

“Boys.” Will shook his head, a wide grin overtaking his face, before looking at them both with wet eyes. “I’m so proud of you two.” His arms came up to envelop them both in a tight hug, his arm around Mike coming up to wrap around the back of his head and tilt it in for a kiss on the hair.

“Thanks, dad.” Mike beamed at his father, rolling his eyes a bit at the affection.

“Ditto.” Bill sighed, fighting off tears as he stared in awe at the man who’d become a second father to him, in many ways preferable to the first. He looked at Mike, the boy who was his rock, his brother, his friend, and saw nothing but more of that self same fire, that burning to get out there and explore.

“You’ll call when you’re set up in the housing.” Will continued, giving him a stern look.

“Of course. And you’ll tell Bill’s parents?” Mike gave him an identical expression, but in a joking, exaggerated rendition.

“Soon as I hear from ya.” He turned to look at Bill again, expression tainted with sadness. “I’m sorry they wouldn’t come out to send you off.”

“It’s what it is.” Bill shrugged, scuffing the toe of his sneakers on the cement. “Can’t change their minds on the whole thing, so.”

“I’ll make sure they know you’re okay.” He put a hand on Bill’s shoulder. “They’ll come around one day.”

“I hope so.” Bill let out a nervous laugh. Mike and his father took it as a sign to smile again, and before they knew it, the boys were wrapped up in a bone-crushing hug once more.

“My boys! Off to the academy.” The man laughed as he ruffled Bill’s hair. “You better graduate top of your classes.”

“We will, we will, dad!” Mike protested, but it was through laughter of his own as he tried to pry the man's grip.

“And you better be a fuckin’ captain, young man,” He pulled Bill into a headlock. “Or I’ll have spent all these years hearin’ you yap about nothin’!”

The three devolved into tearful laughs, more embraces being shared as the shade slowly shifted from the sun’s arc through the sky.

“We gotta go, dad.” Mike said finally, the laughter leaving his shoulders.

“Okay, okay, I’ll get out of here. But you gotta promise you’ll come see your old man as soon as you can.”

“Whenever I get the chance, Dad.” He wrapped his arms lovingly around his father.

“And drag this one with you.” He joked, tugging Bill’s ear, earning a wet laugh.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Bye.” Mike said, muffled by his father’s shoulder.

“Bye, son.” His dad returned softly. Mike pulled away, wiping quickly at his face as he turned to get his bag. Then he was pulling Bill into a hug, whispering the same farewell, and Bill felt loved so deep to his core in a way he’d almost never known before. They separated and Bill mimicked Mike, duffel now slung over his shoulder. Mike’s dad went around the truck and climbed in, starting it up. He waved to the boys who stood on the curb, reigning in tears.

“Be careful you two! Make all of us back home proud!”

“We will!” The boys called back in unison, waving and beaming as the truck pulled away and began to exit the compound. And as they turned and began to enter the throng of their fellow recruits headed to their transports, they knew, deep down, that somehow, they would.

________________________________________________________________

“Alright, alright, Maggie, that’s enough pictures.” Wentworth Tozier waved a hand in front of his face with a squint, as though the flash was some kind of bug he could swat away. His wife rolled her eyes with a sigh, dropping the old digital camera clutched in her hand down to her side. Went stepped away from his son’s side, shaking his head to clear away the residual effects. Richie Tozier removed his large, obnoxious spectacles to rub at his eyes, comically blinking and earning a chuckle from his father. “See Mags, you’re blinding the poor boy.”

“He’s already blind,” She waved him off. “Courtesy of you.”

“Fair.” Wentworth laughed, clapping a hand on Richie’s shoulder. “But he’s gonna need those peepers in the best condition if he’s gonna be that big hotshot pilot he’s got his heart set on.”

“I still don’t know why you’re so determined on it…” Maggie said quietly, almost to herself, as she reached out to cup her son’s cheek.

“It’s what I’ve always wanted, Mags.” Richie gave her a weak but convincing smile, his tone colored with exasperation over how many times he’d tried to explain to her just what it meant to him to fly. She hadn’t understood the first time he declared it, after an evening of joyriding a friends cruiser, bursting into the kitchen with his windblown curls bouncing wildly around him and beaming. She hadn’t understood it when he graduated with a focus in piloting and aeronautics, her expression in the audience almost confused as they announced his major. She hadn’t understood it when he got his acceptance letter to the academy, flight path scholarship, and she wasn’t trying to now, the day he was leaving for it.

It was disappointing, but it wasn’t something he was unused to. What mattered was that she was his mother, and loved him, even if she couldn’t wrap her head around his choices.

She shrugged and wrapped a curl around her finger. “If it’s what your dream is.” She gave him the best smile she could, and for Richie, it was enough to send him off with confidence.

The pager in his hand pinged, signaling the arrival of his shuttle.

“I gotta go, guys.” He looked up at his parents with solemn eyes, suddenly unable to joke around the lump in his throat. “I’ll call you as soon as we’re settled.”

“And every sunday, so I don’t worry.” Maggie reminded him as he grabbed his away bag, a small thing containing only his most valued possessions.

“Won’t forget it. Bye Mags.” He gave her a thin smile, using every bit of his acting skills to hold back the wave of emotion as he hugged his mother goodbye. She stepped away after a moment, wiping her nose as she gave him space. Wentworth stepped over and grabbed Richie by the shoulders, a strange expression on his face as he locked eyes with Richie through both of their pairs of glasses. “Bye Went.” Richie joked feebly, giving a wobbly smile.

Wentworth suddenly reached a hand up to grasp the back of Richie’s hair, fingers tangled in the messy curls there, a huge grin breaking out on his face. “Goodbye son. I love you.” They shared beaming smiles and wet laughter, before both men sobered up and pulled away. Richie awkwardly excused himself, utterly at a loss for words, and with more giggles and waves he left their eighth floor apartment and descended to the street, where his shuttle eagerly awaited.

Safely inside, he took a breath, and released the shock of the situation. He could count on his fingers how many times he remembered his father telling him he loved him. He knew it to be true; it wasn’t like his father was unkind. Wentworth just wasn’t a serious man, and hardly ever outright spoke his feelings. His head was already swimming with the weight of leaving home, leaving everything, to join Starfleet, but this added a layer of dizzying emotion he could feel it threatening to spill.

Hell, he hardly ever says that. You can spare a tear or two for this occasion, Richie thought to himself.

And for the first time in his life, alone in the back of the shuttle on the way to the Academy, he cried, with a huge smile on his face.

Happy tears.

________________________________________________________________

Departure from home for Stanley Uris is an all business affair. There are no tears shed, by any party, no gripping hugs or desperate smiles. There is only further instruction.

On the way in his seat in the shuttles, Stanley did not gaze in wonder out of the viewing windows along with all the other just-old-enough recruits headed off in excitement to their futures. He thought only idly about how easy this will be for him. How he’s been training his whole life to follow and listen.

He’s so lost in his head he almost missed the sharp intakes of breath emanating from the young boy beside him.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, surprising his seat mate, who flinched at the sudden question.

“Oh- uh, yeah. Just don’t like flying, is all.” The other boy wheezed, clearly struggling to keep his breathing under control.

“There’s nothing to worry about. These transports are as sound as any.” Stan assured him casually.

“How can you be sure?” The boy breathed, glaning wide-eyed around the insides of the vessel.

“They’re regulation. They have to be. People use these every day.” Stanley shrugged. “I’m Stanley, by the way. Uris.”

“Eddie Kaspbrak.” The boy gave a weak smile, before shaking Stanley’s outstretched hand with a clammy one. “You new this year?”

“Yeah. Science program.”

“Oh. Cool. I’m a recruit too.”

“What’s your focus?” Stan finally turned to devote his full attention to the conversation, his interest and opinion of this Eddie fellow growing by the minute. Something about his lack of confidence was piquing his interest; or perhaps it was because Stan was so used to the narcissistic assholes of his prep school that it was refreshing to finally meet someone who was not so self absorbed.

“Um… I’m undeclared, actually.” Eddie stared down at the hands folded into his lap.

“That’s just fine.” Stan offered with a gentle smile. Eddie looked at him like he’d hung the stars. “I wish I was. I’ve been studying to be a science officer since I was a kid. It’d be nice to focus on something else for a change.”

“You don’t think its… dumb that I didn’t declare?”

“Fifty six percent of incoming recruits don’t, Eddie. You’re not alone.” Stan replied.

“I just… don’t know what I’m even doing here.” Eddie said dejectedly, his voice small and almost inaudible. “I kind of just… got on board.”

“You didn’t plan to join Starfleet?” Stan gave him a slightly incredulous look.

“No.” Eddie shook his head, returning Stan’s gaze. “I think I was trying to get away, I guess.”

“From what?”

“I don’t know. Everything.”

________________________________________________________________

Everything, for Eddie Kaspbrak, turned out to be one thing, specifically; his mother.

In the first week of Academy, Stanley and Eddie chose each other as roommates, as end-term project partners, and as friends. Since the latter required actual conversation and honesty, Eddie reluctantly came to share the reasons for his rather hurried departure onto the shuttle where the two met. Over opening ceremonies drinks he cryptically stated that she was the kind of parent who thought they could govern over every aspect of their child’s life with little to no consequences; Stan responded with an equally cryptic ‘preaching to the choir’ comment before the two shared a frankly unprecedented round of shots. In a brief bout of campus diner outings Stan was able to earn the information that Eddie was a hypochondriac, inherited lovingly from his even worse mother. When the subject of Stan’s lack of siblings came up, Eddie declared himself the same, and that he was fatherless as well. On a particularly low evening, one just before Stan’s major entry exam, he admitted that the final straw was his mother’s attempts to set him up with one of her coworkers, a young woman Eddie’s age named Myra. “She’s just- just fucking like her.” He said with a hiccup, downing his fifth beer for the night. Stan had also learned quickly that Eddie was a lightweight. “Ma made me go on a fucking-” Here he belched rather unceremoniously. “Brunch date with her,” He said bitterly. “She fucking joined in on it. They spent the whole time talking about how I need to ‘gain weight’ and ‘put some hair on my chest’ and all kinds of other bullshit.” Another swig. “I told them it was probably a result of all the dick I get, and I promptly fucked off to the academy the next day.”

Stan decided he loved Eddie, and it was almost solely because he’d never laughed so hard in his life.

Before the preliminary was up, the only difference anyone could tell between the two was that one was studying science and the other was quite feisty. But from the outset, Stan and Eddie could feel just how strongly they were destined for each other, and to this day, Eddie will maintain he couldn’t have made it without his newfound family.

________________________________________________________________

Another member, later to join said family, was the elusive Beverly Marsh. Not a living soul at Starfleet can tell you just what it was that got her there, but her closest friends can guess it had something to do with her deadbeat father.

“Deadbeat, being an understatement of course.” She said as she downed her gin and tonic. “I won’t get into the details, but you can easily guess where I’m going with this.”

“Christ.” Richie Tozier muttered in response, rubbing his eyes behind thick lenses.

“Anyways, no need to dwell. I’m here and he’s in the ground so shit’s looking up, right?” She grinned then, a fiery, dangerous thing that had Richie wondering immediately what kind of woman he was currently having a drink with. She signaled the bartender for another, shot back half of it in one go, and Richie decided he very much liked whatever kind of woman he was currently being out-drank by.

Beverly was an engineering major, part of the student team that discovered the technology to create small-op warp core reserves for pleasure vessels, and the most badass woman in the whole galaxy, as Richie would proclaim at every bar crawl the two attended. Richie met Beverly in their first Technology of Flight class period, when they both walked in sporting the classic shades-indoors-and-sandals-because-hangover look, made eye contact through the haze, and laughed their asses off at the sight of one another. Beverly quickly became a regular call when Richie got bored, which was all the time, and to her, Richie became the greatest source of entertainment the world had ever afforded her. Nothing delighted Beverly more than to goad Richie into performing ridiculous dares, pranks, and heists, which required minimal effort for a maximum payoff. Richie was always game for literally anything, and Beverly was one creative bitch. (another “affectionate” reference via Richie as he tried to explain their latest foray to the Academy campus police.)

One week into their schooling the two were inseparable. Two weeks in and the two were insufferable, their fame instantly and easily earned as the two most rambunctious freshman on the campus.

A badge Beverly wears firmly and proudly, eventually to be joined by all her other Star Fleet distinguishments.

________________________________________________________________

Benjamin Hanscom remembers his first meeting with Beverly Marsh more fondly than any of the others in their ragtag gang to be, and is still teased by his mother for the call she received that self-same night when he declared that he’d found the woman he was destined to marry. His embarrassment over the call is only eclipsed by his embarrassment over his blunder at flight school, where instead of training to be a pilot he had been training to direct them, and made one hell of a misstep when he misspoke and directed a student all the way to Spokane before realizing they’d gone three hundred thousand miles in the wrong direction.

Ben joined Starfleet, as he admitted sheepishly to Beverly their first night out at a bar, to improve his communication skills.

It was an easy option, coming from a family of Federation devotionals. Ben’s father had been a member, and he vividly remembered his childhood of movement through the galaxy to follow the warp trails his ship left behind. It wasn’t the easiest life, leaving Ben often feeling as though he had no anchor, but as he grew older it only solidified his small-growing notion that an anchor wasn’t necessarily a place. When he met Bev, he decided she’d make a pretty damn phenomenal one. Little was he to know it came with an extra weight, one in the size and shape of one Richie Tozier. Even more to his surprise was the fact that Richie, and the others, would eventually become just as important.

Communications studies started as an almost sarcastic field choice, a small part of him wanting to excel in the area just to tell his old flight school instructor to stick it. But after a couple months in, he really started to find his rhythm, the study and use of languages throughout the cosmos unfurling and dancing out in front of him, mesmerizing in their open possibilities. He became somewhat of a space transcendentalist, whiling away his free time alone waxing poetic about the future. The added bonus of slowly gaining a group of friends put the nail in the coffin of his passion. Understanding the beauty of communication and putting it to good use?

Starfleet life looked better every day for Ben Hanscom in those early years.

But right now, sitting at his station, prime culprit The Coffee Mug clutched in his hands as his crew looked at him astonished, he really wished he’d never joined.

________________________________________________________________

authors notes: ill have to go back and fix this because i’m scrambling to post it before work, but here you guys go! sorry i haven’t posted content in so long!

tagslist: @s-s-stutteringbill @gazeboseddie @misssiriusblack @mythgirl96 @crackhousetozier @reddieaddict @wincestklaine @beepbeep-losers @ayyyymichele @ttrxshmouth @megelizabethvh @tapetayloe @flickerflies @ghostbustermike @i-is-gazebo @reddiesetrichie @jessicarayheyman @r-u-reddiee @wyttolff @gayzier @hanscombeverly @kaspbrak-is-our-king @mikedenbrough @28shoes @nicoperryy @kinghanscom @eddiecare @shadysandi @fyeahreddie

#prior.txt #prior.fic #unboldlyverse

[sarahcamerons]

pairing: stenbrough

summary: a headcanon i wrote with @finn-wolfhards that turned into a long ass fic

warnings: angst, tooth rotting fluff, swearing i guess?

word count: 2.4k

thanks to @richiestoziers for being the beta for this fic you’re the actual best

If there was one thing Stanley Uris envied about Richie Tozier, it was how easy everything seemed to be for him. He envied how once everyone found out about Eddie and him it was easy for them to fall into not hiding their relationship anymore. He knew the decision to hide his relationship with Bill from the rest of The Losers for the time being was a good one. The less people that knew right now, the better. He didn’t even want to think about what his father would do if he found out about it. Still, he couldn’t help but feel his chest tighten when he saw Eddie and Richie holding hands or sharing a kiss before class.

Stan and Bill had a special relationship. Around the others they seemed nothing more than friends, not even close friends at that, but when they were alone they both turned to complete mush. Always touching in some way, soft kisses during study sessions, cuddling, mixtapes, all the sappy shit they knew the other Losers would tease them for. Bill and Stan were completely in love - even if they hadn’t admitted it yet. Even if the other Losers were completely oblivious to the relationship between the two boys; sometimes, if he looked close enough, Richie could swear he could see Stan’s face light up at the sight of Bill’s smile - the same way his own did around Eddie.

It had taken them a long time to get to how they act alone, even. It’d started with shy smiles, prolonged staring, bonding over things the other Losers didn’t really care about, like books and plants. It started with Bill and Stan riding home, staying close together, like gravity made it impossible for them to stray too far from each other, after the other losers had already went home, but the two wanted to put off leaving just a little longer. It started with Stan asking, nervous and shaky, even though he’d been rolling the question around in his head for fifteen minutes, “you wanna go see a movie tomorrow?”

“S-s-sure. Anyone else going?” Bill replied, even though he knew Stan would’ve asked them all as a group just an hour ago if it was a group plan. But still, he and Stan didn’t make plans to hang out alone together, like Richie and Eddie, or Ben and Bev, it just happened sometimes.

“I was thinking just you and me,” Stan kept his eyes on the payment, feeling nauseous, so focused on keeping his legs moving and his bike from toppling over that he almost didn’t hear Bill’s response.

“Sounds g-good.”

So, in reality, it had started the next day in the back row of The Aladdin Theatre, when the AC was blasting so high it felt like it was winter and not late summer, when Bill Denbrough reached under the armrest and grabbed Stan’s hand. And Stan wanted to play it cool, he really did, but his face got red and hot like it was on fire, and he looked down at their intertwined hands like they were something to be marveled at. And that’s how they remained for the rest of the movie, fingers interlocked, their thumbs occasionally rubbing circles on the backs of each other's hands, and smiles playing on their lips.

Their first kiss came a few days later. The two boys were laying in Bill’s backyard, eyes squinted against the sun, attempting to pick out shapes in the clouds. After neither of them could spot anything more interesting than a bunny or some other fluffy animal, they resorted to just talking. Laying there, shoulders touching, so close they could feel the steady rise and fall of each other’s chests, they were content.

Bill doesn’t even remember thinking the thought, but somehow, it had come to him. He only remembers lying there, in the middle of his backyard, with Stanley Uris, and he was happy. Stan made him happy. He doesn’t remember thinking about it, but he sure as hell remembered doing it. He remembered sitting straight up so abruptly, Stan had followed, sure something was wrong. He remembered the sound of surprise that had escaped Stan as he connected their lips and the feeling that came along with it. His whole body had been filled with a comforting warm tingle, one that remained for hours afterward. He remembered kissing Stanley Uris and feeling him kiss back, the world swirling around him, both of them smiling like idiots when they parted. He also remembered Stan kissing him again briefly before they parted ways that afternoon.

Bill and Stan had been dating just short of two months when it happened. The afternoon started out like any other they spent together. Both of them sprawled across Stan’s bed, their schoolwork strewn between them. Neither of them needed the others help with homework, they were both smart kids, however they did enjoy each other’s company. It made the task a little more bearable when they tackled it together. Arguably, it did make it a significant amount harder for Bill Denbrough to focus when his incredibly cute boyfriend was sitting across from him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at one of the twenty math equations in front of him.

Bill groaned, pushing his work to the side. He couldn’t seem to figure out the last five or six problems.

“I c-can’t do it anymore. J-just can’t do it,” Bill sighed flinging himself backwards onto the bed.

Stan smiled fondly, stifling a laugh in the crook of his arm.

“You’re so dramatic,” he laughed moving over to sit beside Bill. He ruffled the other boy’s hair before wrapping an arm around him and pulling him into his side. Bill quickly adjusted his position, cuddling closer to Stan’s side. He could feel the warmth radiating off him, reaching under his skin and against his chest, slowly thawing out all the parts of him that had been frozen ever since Georgie disappeared. He reached over to intertwine his fingers with Stan’s, noticing - not for the first time - how perfectly their hands seemed to fit together, like they were made to hold each other.

The two stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity, lost in each other’s company. Both boys taking in each other’s scent and warmth, limbs tangled together, and soft smiles on their lips. Occasionally, they would steal kisses from one another, some lingering longer than others.

Bill doesn’t really know when it happened, when everything just fell apart around them. The mixtape they made together played, a messy mix of both of their taste, and Mr. Uris comes in somewhere before the first chorus of Lips Like Sugar.

Mrs. Uris always knocked, that’s why they always feel okay being like this, tangled up in each other’s arms and hearts. The promise of a warning is enough for them to relax, to act like Stan’s room is a private island far, far away from Derry.

Mr. Uris didn’t knock. He just walked in, because it wasn’t an island in the Caribbean with a population of two, surrounded by water and completely safe. It was Stan’s normal bedroom in the Uris home, and Mr. Uris doesn’t think he should have to knock to get into a room he owns.

Which is how he walks in on Stan and Bill, closer than friends would lay on a bed, Bill’s hand lost somewhere in Stan’s hair.

Stan recoiled so quickly, like Bill was a poisonous snake or something even more dangerous, and practically fell out of bed.

“Dad-” he starts, but Mr. Uris is quicker, and he looks more angry than either boy’s ever seen.

After that first sentence, cut off with a fierce glare, it got blurry and too fast for Bill to keep up with. Mr. Uris screamed at Stan, really screaming and yelling, but Stan didn’t move. He stood stock still, his full attention on the soft carpet beneath his feet. He looked like he might cry, but he didn’t, because he even though he was terrified he knew that tears would only make everything a hundred times worse.

And Bill hated Mr. Uris then in that moment. He’s never loved any of his friend’s parents, but he’s never thought of Stan’s parents like this, screaming in his face about what a disappointment he is and how disgusting cuddling is. And Bill got so angry, hot red flashes burning at his eyes and in his fists. But all he did was weakly grab his bag, stuffing all the forgotten homework in and walk out.

Bill didn’t even realize he was crying until he reached Richie's house. If Richie hadn’t asked if he was okay Bill probably wouldn’t have noticed at all. He hadn’t even realized where he was heading, it was as if his bike had a mind of it’s own, automatically knowing where to go. He had been greeted by typical Richie, jokes and all, but his demeanor changed when he noticed Bill’s mood.

The pair had retreated to Richie’s room not long after Bill arrived, sitting on his bed, neither of them saying a word. For the most part, Bill’s tears were silent, but sometimes Richie would hear him release a shaky sob. Richie never had any use for comforting people, but when he needed to, he was good at it. He wrapped an arm around Bill’s slim shoulders, causing him to flinch at the contact before relaxing again.

“So, what exactly happened?” Richie asked after a while, once Bill finally calmed down to the point Richie felt it was appropriate to ask.

At this, Bill broke down again. His whole body shaking as he cried, tripping over his words more than usual. “S-s-stan’s d-dad. He s-saw us.”

Richie, totally clueless about the relationship between the two boys, scrunched his face in confusion.

“Saw you doing what? Fuckin’ math homework?” He replied, laughing softly.

Bill shook his head.

“N-no we were c-c-cuddling. Kissing. S-stuff that just f-friends don’t do.” He didn’t make eye contact, scared of what Richie might think of him. Scared he would be mad he hadn’t told him.

But, Richie wasn’t mad, the exact opposite, actually. He told Bill he was happy for him and Stan, enveloping him in a warm hug that made Bill feel like everything was going to be okay after all. Richie left and returned with a glass of water. Ignoring all of Bill's protests about not needing it, that he was alright.

“Drink it,” he said thrusting the cup towards Bill. “You need it. You’ve literally been crying for like a solid hour.”

Bill listened and drank all of it, feeling better now that he wasn’t severely dehydrated, the headache he’d developed easing off.

The next day, a Friday, Stan wasn’t at school. Bill was sure Stan hated him, that the next time they saw each other he wouldn’t even look at him. Bill had never seen him the way he was yesterday, so quiet, as if he’d just completely shut down. Stan was never super emotional - Bill only ever remembers seeing him cry once, back in the sewers, when he’d thought they all left him for dead - but it was strange to see him that way, shut off. He was so sure Stan would never speak to him again. Scared that he’d ruined Stan’s life and Bill’s bond with him along with it.

Stan’s absence was noticed. It was felt. The other Losers asked where he was that morning before class, again at lunch, and once more after the final bell. Every time Richie and Bill remained silent, exchanging glances and shrugging slightly.

The next time Stan and Bill saw each other was exactly three days later - they had both been counting. Bill arrived at the barrens later than usual, the other Losers already there, sitting around on the grass, talking amongst themselves. None of them commented on Bill’s tardiness, but if Bill thought they didn’t notice, he’d be wrong. They all exchanged questioning looks at him arriving late. Bill was never late. In fact, often he would arrive earlier than any of the others. But, as if they had some sort of mental connection, they all decided to brush it off.

Stan arrived ten or fifteen minutes later, his eyes glued to the ground, afraid to look up at his friends for fear of meeting Bill’s gaze.

Bill looked up, attempting to make eye contact, a wave of nausea washing over him when he realized Stan was avoiding his eyes on purpose. He hates me. He gripped the bottom of his shirt in his fist, attempting to choke down the bile threatening to make its way up his throat. He hates me.

Bill pushed his thoughts out of his mind, assuring himself there’s no way they could be true. He stood before making his way over to Stan, walking towards him as fast as he could without running. When he reached him, Bill had wrapped his arms around Stan, hugging him so tightly the other boy almost fell over from the sudden addition of weight.

Stan wrapped his arms around Bill, hugging him back just as tightly. Bill buried his face in Stan’s neck, his once jagged breathing steadying at the familiar scent. He doesn’t hate me.

“I was w-w-worried about y-you.” Bill mumbled into the fabric of Stan’s shirt. “I love you.” He didn’t stutter once over the last three words even though he was nervous as hell. That’s how sure he was of them, he had been for a while now.

Stan pulled away from the hug, holding Bill at arms length. Bill was sure this was it, that his words were some sort of final straw. So sure that Stan was going to tell him that this wasn’t going to work, that it wasn’t worth it. Even if he knew Stan would never do that, it didn’t stop the thoughts from forcing their way in. After getting a good look at Bill he pulls him back into the hug.

Now it was Stan who was tripping over his words. "M-me too, I mean, fuck, I love you too, so much." He kissed the top of Bill’s head, briefly glancing over to their other friends who were all staring at them, very obviously confused at the display before them. All of them except Richie, of course, who had made some comment like “that’s gay guys” and proceeding to plant a kiss on Eddie, who smiled in return.

None of them asked any questions that day, only telling the two how happy they were for them. The rest of the day was spent sitting around on the ground of The Barrens, laughing and smiling, as if nothing bad could ever ruin this day - and nothing could.

#stenbrough #*fics #it #usertele #userclaudia #finn-wolfhards

[nivks]

gryles 2017 for vee @ladsfm

okay ah vee wanted this UPDATED!!! to add the start of the year too so! edited again!

heres a basic recap i guess but uhhh

harry nd nick literally spent xmas together aGAIN and they mention it casually as fUCK 

they started off their year domestic and shit how fucking adorable #netflixnchillncurry

okay so we didnt even KNOw this happened until they talked bout it in the sott premiere but! they literally spent a whole goddamn day together just dedicated to listening to ?? sott?? hs1?? i feel like they listened to the whole fucking album but im also pretty sure nick was like ‘no i didnt hear the album before!! this is all new!!’ when harry went on for the hs1 premiere but whatever nicks a fuckin liar we all kno it

im dying it was one album song like IT TAKES LESS THAN AN HOUR and they met up in the MORNING and didnt listen till afterNOON whatthe FUCK they literally spent all DAY together cos they were so NERVOUS what fools

then we have: ladzfm 2.0 aka sott premiere aka: “I feel lucky to be playing my first song with one of my best friends.” aka our collective death

we got a lot of good shit in this interview im actualy crying rereading it all what the fuck HMM SO WE GOT #fontchat, nick talking about trying to cook a roast for harry with remi IN LA, nick admitting that harry was one of 4 people nick told about getting breakfast (two being his parents FUCK), #ronniewoodchat??? nicks life is so weird, OH POST BRITS CHAT FUCK!, confirmed that nick and anne text on the reg, dog collar chat #legendsonly, #tbt to when they saw rita at G-A-Y , other cute shit

THANKS FOR HAVING ME. LOVE YOU. H.

also this like idk how to describe it but nick and harry are BOTH the sun for eachother and they literlly light each other up

nick being adorable about it on insta too

okay now its the original post but i fixed those links you told me were wrong

okay i feel like u know that nick flew to america to take his mum on a holiday then like also watch harry debut on snl but i feel like revisiting so

there was ANNE that fucked us up to begin with

then when nick turned up at the snl studios??

like we were waiting for it but we never fucking expected it to actually happen what the fuck

nick looked so good when he was there fuck me

harry smiling and waving at his lil home party of 2

him and eileen going to the afterparty and chillin with jimmy whatshisface, eileen partying till the am?

uhh hardly important but idk

nick looks so fkin good even hungover as fuck after partying all night and celebrating (marrying) harry

MOVING ON FROM THEIR AMERICAN MARRIAGE

the tweet got deleted ugh but nick was spotted at harrys graham norton performance! love a supportive husband!

harry came on the show for an hour for his album release party and? it was LIVE

started with nick complimenting harry on his outfit made outta tea towels

harry saves the audios that nick sends him when harry was sharing album clips and nick sung his own versions #confirmed

omg notebook chat was in this interview ugh

<3

jonna just posted this like last week and im still crying

MOVING ON FROM LADZFM TO: MALLORCA

okay first off nick looks fit as fuck in mallorca so

nick went to both the hens party and the stag do what a fuckin loser

hun! oh HUN

okay i think we got like ppl rumouring that harry was in mallorca but EMILY CAME THRU for us and posted this

the girls lookd so lovely at the wedding tho ahhh

this is what harry married i love Him

nick and harry musta been sharin a room cos nick was wearin his clothes aww

so basically nick blasted the hell outta wild thoughts on this holiday and put green hearts on fuckin everything so i did this mess

okay mallorcas over rip back to ldn life

nick got emo again idk

whatever they went out for LUNCH 

what the fuck how domestic

OH A GOOD DAY HERE

nick went to see dunkirk by himself cos he couldnt make the premiere etc etc 

completely by himself im dyin

then we were all like HEY I HOPE HE STILL MAKES THE PREMIERE cos liek we didnt know he was busy so when he rocked up to host this car gig or whatever we were all like hmm proud of u host grimshaw but also hun :/

and also the bleach makeup launch was on that night so like a lot of harrys close ldn crew pals missed the ldn premiere too and we were all like awww poor harry

BUT THEN

both HARRY and NICK rocked up at the bleach party!

they both looked fit as everyloving FUCK this night too

N I C E

fucked up we never got an actual HQ pic of nick and harry together but you can see nicks arm in this on the right omg

im still gellz

OKAY MOVING ONTO HARRY COMING ONTO THE SHOW FOR LADZFM 4.0 to talk about DUNKIRK

unfortch it was prerecorded but like still

nick looked amazing (and harry took those pics and u cant tell me otherwise)

uhh some good quotes one two three four five 

they look lovely im stressed

(nick in glasses lookin like a doctor)

OKAY MOVING ON TO NICKS BDAY

harry was MIA? for nicks actual bday SO INSTEAD they celebrated together (with harry lambert) a couple day early!!

nice lil lunch <3

SHOPPING WITH BAE

nick looks rly fit

i cant beleive harry brought him the goddamn shoes

i cant belvie how much nick loves them

like full on 100% loves them

(harry has rly similar shoes too goddamn matchy matchy kids)

fast forward to later augugst where

NICK AND HARRY GONNA DO A BBC SPECIAL TOGETHER

aka Harry Styles at the BBC

then like FIVE DAYS AFTER IT WAS ANNOUNCED nick andharry were already up north filming one two three

NICK N HARRY LOOKED ADORBALE TOGEHTER

nick tweeted about being off air for 3 days and jeff liked it :)

in the actual recording harry wears his usual florals  yeh nick actually fucking posted that to his own instagram story what thte fuck i love 2017

nick? murder me?

ahhh

ALSO ANNE AND EILEEN SAT TOGETHER IN THE AUDIENCE HOW FUJCING SWEET WTF

and THATS basically it for the past couple of months? there was this mention the other day but apart from that!

EDIT: I FUCKING FORGOT TO ADD THAT HARRY COVERED WILD THOUGHTS IN THE BBC RADIO ONE LIVE LOUNGE which: what the Fuck

anyway I LOVE YOU I MISS YOU IM SORRY THIS IS A MESS HOPE UR DOIN OKAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#me: exposing myself #thanks vee #gryles #*

[avanneman]

Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon A Time In Hollywood: not entirely the all-out misogynistic gore-fest I had been expecting!

When Quentin Tarantino was a young man, he had dreams, as young men do. These are among the things that Quentin Tarantino dreamed:

That he would kick Bruce Lee’s ass;

That he would save Sharon Tate’s ass;

That he would have a pitbull that would bite people on the ass (also the nuts);

That he would share a “moment”—an extended one, actually—with an insanely precocious eight-year-old girl, like that Eloise of the Plaza girl or maybe that Esmé girl in that Salinger story;1

That he would have maybe murdered someone (like his wife, just for example);

That he would beat the crap out of some dames; and

That he would be a bottom.

Tarantino reveals his dreams in a meticulously tricked out mélange of fake reality, real reality, fake dreams and reals ones, all basking in the warm California sun that shines over the capital of dreams, fake and real, Hollywood, California, the place that makes Oz seem normal. Tarantino subjects us to an elaborate collage of fake and real film clips, fake ads for fake tv shows, fake promos for fake tv shows, fake versions of real tv shows, fake movies, real movies, even fantasy versions of real films, in the service of four separate story lines, all set, naturally, to a carefully honed and seriously swinging sixties soundtrack, much of it heard on car radios, complete with “period’ DJs, jingles, and ads.2 But despite all the artifice, once the narrative gets going, the whole story is very simple, despite all the detours, which generally come off as self-indulgent and sentimental, since Tarantino is self-indulgent and sentimental—except when it comes to dames.

I’m sure that the idea for Once Upon A Time must have been kicking around in Tarantino’s head for years, if not decades, but the film’s basic vibe still seems heavily influenced by James Franco’s recent semi-classic The Disaster Artist, the now-legendary tale of Tommy Wiseau and Greg Sestero,3 two star-struck shaggy-dog scooby-doo dudes adrift and a-dreamin’ in the LA LA Land shark tank who escape eating only because they aren’t worth the consumption. Tarantino’s leads, Leonardo DiCaprio as “Rick Dalton” and Brad Pitt as “Cliff Booth”, are a little bit further up the food chain. Once upon a time, Rick was a star, with a big house and the whole schmear, the star of the TV western Bounty Law that finished its run in 1963. Six years later, he’s still got the big house, but the career is flagging. In fact, he’s so down on his luck his posse consists exclusively of his main man/stunt man Cliff, who chauffeurs Rick around (because, of course, Rick lost his license), listens to his frequent tales of woe, and tries, ever so gently, to keep him on the straight and narrow, while always assuring him that he’s still the Man, and always will be.

We first pick up on Rick and Cliff, the first two strands of our story, via what strikes me as an, well, insanely unnecessary device—a black and white TV “featurette” on Bounty Law when the show was still running, featuring both men, in which Rick explains to the folks at home just what a stunt man is and why they’re so necessary—as if audiences in 2019 need to know this. The Bounty Law stuff is intercut with the third thread—a Pan Am jet arriving in LAX bearing a pair of obvious big shots, a short dude and a tall blonde who stride through the place surrounded by a crowd of paparazzi before transferring to a cute little vintage MG TF, whose 1250 cc engine bellows like a Ferrari 12 cylinder sans muffler4 when they hit the freeway.

After the black and white clip ends we catch up with Rick and Cliff in real life as Cliff drives Rick to a lunch meeting with agent Marvin Schwarz (Al Pacino, actin’ all Jewish on our ass and clearly having a ball), both Rick and Cliff enjoying lushly photographed mixed drinks in the grand tradition of Hollywood eye-openers while they wait for Marvin to show. When Marvin does, Rick introduces him to Cliff, “explaining” that his car is in the shop, so Cliff is filling in as his wheel man. “A good friend!” exclaims Marvin. “I try,” says Cliff.

Marvin and Rick have a sitdown and Marvin does a lot of talking, his spiel giving us more backstory on Rick, and it ain’t pretty. After Bounty Law died, Rick made a few movies (Tarantino naturally shows us some clips, including one of Rick incinerating some Nazis with a flamethrower) that died at the box office, and we even see a “kinescope” of Rick singing a fifties oldie, “The Green Door”, on Hullabaloo.5 Now he’s reduced to appearing as a “guest star” on other TV westerns, the villain du jour whose job is to be plugged by the real leading man. “Face it, Rick,” Schwarz tells him. “You’re in the rear-view mirror in this town, fading to black. Italy’s the place, and spaghetti westerns are the future! Give me the word and I’ll make it happen! But give me your decision soon, ‘cause I ain’t getting’ any younger, and, more to the point, neither are you!”5

Rick staggers out into a California sun that ain’t so much warm as scalding, throwing himself bodily into Cliff’s arms. I’m fucked, motherfucker! Fucked! I’m a fucked-up fucking former cowboy star who ain’t worth a damn! Italy, for Christ’s sake! Italy! Fuckin’ Italy! That’s all I’m goddamn good for any more! Goddamn fucking Italy!

Gently, Cliff talks him down, as he clearly does once or twice a week. Take it easy, big guy. You’re still the man. You’re still the man! And so they head out in Rick’s Caddy, Cliff at the wheel, a classic case of LA co-dependency, a West Coast version of Joe Buck and Ratso Rizzo, two guys chasin’ that dream, that dream that don’t seem to be getting all that closer, but, well, when you’re headin’ down La Cienega6 in a sweet Caddy, rockin’ those sweet sixties tunes, it still seems like it could come true.

As they pass down La Cienega, or wherever they are, they pass a bunch of dumpster-divin’ hippie chicks, setting up what will be the fourth strand of the story. After that, well, it seems that time passes, because all of a sudden it’s gettin’ dark, and Cliff takes the Caddy up a winding private drive, dropping Rick off at his big house, giving Rick a chance to fill us in on some more exposition. You know the secret of LA? Real estate, my man, real estate! Own, don’t rent! Then you belong here. Right on cue, the MG we saw earlier rumbles up the drive. It’s Rick’s neighbor, who, unlike Rick, has a gated entrance. See what I mean! You know who that is? Roman fucking Polanski, that’s all! Hottest director in Hollywood! What did I just say? What did I just say? In this town, you’re just one pool party away from the big time!. Cliff nods, as if he hasn’t heard all this a dozen times before, and then lectures Rick on the need for punctuality, for like tomorrow— “7:15! 7:15 out the door! 7:15 in the car”—before taking off in his sweet ride, a Karmann Ghia, which, by the sound, also seems to have had a Ferrari implant, replacing its stock four-cylinder VW mill with a V-12.7

Cliff blasts down the mountain-side in total LA bad boy mode, top down, hair ripplin’ in the wind, and heavy tunes blastin’ on the radio. Fuckin’ LA, man, fuckin’ LA! This is how we roll!

Well, this is how Cliff rolls until he gets out of the car, because LA is all about the wheels. Cliff doesn’t live in the canyon. He lives in the serious low-rent district (that is to say, Van Nuys), in a trailer, with both a pumping oil well and a drive-in movie theater to create a little noise pollution, which he combats, once he’s inside, with a black and white tv featuring Bob Goulet belting out “MacArthur Park”! The horror, man, the goddamn horror!

But he does have some company, in the form of “Brandy”, perhaps the world’s best-trained pitbull.8 To let us know that we’re watching a Quentin Tarantino movie—we were starting to wonder—Quentin ups the grossisity level considerably by having Cliff feed Brandy “Wolf Tooth” dog food (“raccoon” and “rat flavor”, no less), which looks exactly like shit, letting the slop drop plop in the bowl from about waist level. Two cans of the slop, plus a pound or two of kibble, make quite a mess, but real men ain’t neat. Cliff makes himself a saucepan of mac and cheese, pops open a beer, and plops in front of the tv. Life is good!

Life is good because Cliff is really happy that Rick is a loser. If Rick were a star, a real star, he wouldn’t need Rick. He’d use him, because that’s what stars do, but he wouldn’t need him. And Cliff needs to be needed.

Rick, meanwhile, is slurpin’ whiskey sours and learning his lines for the morrow’s shoot, the pilot for a new show called Lancer, while floating in his elegant, kidney-shaped pool, which, remarkably enough, has a killer view,9 as Tarantino’s elegant camera work will elegantly reveal.

Next door, things are a bit more lively. Roman and Sharon (she isn’t named, but of course we figure it out) slip on their glad rags and head for just the hippest place in town, the Playboy Mansion! Which didn’t actually exist yet in 1969, but whatever. One could wish—a little—that poor old Hugh Hefner were still alive (alive and, well, sentient) to see his old haunt pictured as the place where all the cool kids hung out back in the day.10 For whatever reason, Tarantino actually labels some of the big shots present so we’ll know who’s who, including Steve McQueen and Michelle Phillips and “Mama Cass” Elliot,11 the female singers of the sixties group The Mamas and the Papas.12

The shindig at the Mansion turns out to be the most carefully choreographed shindig I’ve ever seen. Everyone can dance—even the folks in the pool—and everyone’s in perfect time! It’s also the most chaste Playboy Mansion shindig I’ve ever seen—not a nipple in sight. But, even more strangely, we get a sour disquisition from wallflower Steve McQueen, no less, staring at Sharon’s sweet, swingin bod and moaning strangely about her strange taste in men, that leaves him shit out of luck. Hey, lighten up, Steve, and join the party! Why Tarantino thought we needed to know all this is beyond me. (Whether Steve really did have the hots for Sharon is also beyond me.)

The next morning, Roman is up, bright and early—at around 7:15, as a matter of fact—enjoying an outdoor French press while Sharon still slumbers—slumbers and snores, actually, because when you get up close, all chicks are just a little gross.13

Rick actually is up at 7:15 as well and heads off to the shoot with Cliff, though he clearly feels, if he does not exactly look, like shit, bent over double with one coughing fit after another and hacking up so much phlegm we figure he doesn’t have to worry about lung cancer because he won’t live long enough to get it. He tells Cliff that, no, he won’t be needed on the set—and he knows damn well why—so he might as well go back to Rick’s place and fix Rick’s tv antenna, because it needs fixin’. Cliff nods and takes off.

Rick stumbles through the set of Lancer looking for wardrobe. When he finds it he soaks his face in ice water—gotta tighten the damn pores, after all. Any star knows that. Plus it might help him remember his name, or even his lines. While Rick is still no more than half conscious, director Sam Wanamaker (Nicholas Hammond) bursts in, maybe not gay, but seriously exquisite. “Rick Dalton! Have I got plans for you! This is going to be amazing!”

Sam rattles and prattles on in a fit of aesthetic ecstasy, while Rick stares in semi-conscious horror. He doesn’t need this much enthusiasm. He’s here for a paycheck and this dude is talkin’ about “zeitgeists”, whatever the fuck they are. Seriously! Zeitgeists! And it’s waaayyyy too early for fuckin’ zeitgeists!

While Rick suffers, Cliff heads back to the canyon, running into the hippie chicks once more before reaching Rick’s place. It what seems like a parody of gay porno, he straps on a tool belt, and then leaps to the top of first one wall and then another until he’s up on the roof, much like a cat and not at all like the 40-year-old man he’s supposed to be. Then he pulls off his shirt, lights a cigarette and dons a pair of work gloves. Ready for action? Hell, yeah!

But before he starts to work Cliff has time for an extended reverie on just why he isn’t welcome on the Lancer set. Earlier, he had a job as Rick’s stunt man in an (imaginary) tv series starring Bruce Lee. Bruce, played by Mike Moh, comes off as a pretentious asshole, prompting Cliff to give him some serious sass. In real life, one suspects, sassing a star would get you not merely booted off the set but out of Hollywood forever, but instead Bruce and Rick agree to a genteel face-off, no punches to the head, just knock the other fellow down, best two out of three. Cliff goes down the first time, but then throws Bruce bodily against the side of a Lincoln Continental, causing a dent that looks like it was made by a 500-pound wrecking ball rather than a 130-pound Asian. That’s what you get for stealing our jobs, hot shot!14

But that isn’t the only reason why Cliff isn’t welcome on the set: there’s this crazy rumor that he killed his wife, which Tarantino encourages us to believe is true by showing us a flashback—whether Cliff “remembering” or Tarantino showing us “the truth” isn’t clear—of Cliff in skin diver gear on a boat listening to his bikini-clad wife bitching her head off about what a loser he is and Cliff maybe pointing his spear gun at her. Uh, so what is the point of all this? It has no payoff in the rest of the movie, leaving us to feel that Tarantino sort of wishes that people, especially women, would be afraid of him. You know that guy, Quentin Tarantino? Oh, yeah, he looks harmless, but I hear he killed his wife! Seriously!

Once Cliff finishes his reverie, he has a glimpse of the future instead of the past: a weird, hippie-lookin’ dude at the Polanski place asking about the previous tenant. We aren’t clued in, but if you know your back story you know this is Charles Manson.

While all this is going on in and out of Cliff’s head, Rick is having multiple adventures on the Lancer set. The whole Lancer episode is a curious mish-mash of fact and fancy. The “real” Sam Wanamaker did direct the pilot of Lancer. Whether Sam was as exquisite as portrayed seems a pretty open question. The actual Lancer series was a short-lived rip-off of Bonanza, which Tarantino sort of follows and sort of not, and sometimes it seems that Rick’s character “Caleb” is the good guy and the Lancers are the bad guys, and sometimes the other way around. We see several large chunks of the show, presented to us as the audience would see them—no crew or equipment visible—and in fact what we see is not at all what a sixties tv series would look like but rather a sort of ideal spaghetti western that Tarantino probably dreamed of making back in the day.

Before we even get there, however, Rick, dressed in character as “Caleb” has several “pregnant” conversations, the first with the stunningly precocious (and precociously PC) “actor” “Trudi Fraser” (Julia Butters), already in character as “Maribella”. Rick can’t eat lunch because of his makeup and “Maribella” likes to stay lean and hungry before a shoot. “We aim for 100% efficiency. We never achieve it, of course. But it’s the pursuit that counts.”

Rick, conveniently hocking up another loogie, looks like there’s nothing he’d like to pursue other than a whiskey sour or two and maybe a nap, but he takes a seat next to her to read his paperback western—a little surprising since I never saw him as having much appetite for print. Maribella, after correcting Rick’s pronunciation of his character’s last name (it’s not “Dakota”) and generally playing the eight-year-old dominatrix to a tee (though, as an “actor”, she would object to the feminine suffix), asks him what his book is about, and Rick launches into an extended précis: see, there’s this guy, he used to be just the coolest, toughest bronco buster around, but now, well, he’s getting’ old, his back ain’t so good no more, and every day he gets up knowin’ that, every day, he’s less of a man.

Rick tears up/chokes up as he’s delivering this thumbnail—because it’s his fucking story, get it? Maribella, as conveniently obtuse now as she was prescient before, misses the subtext. “It sounds like a really good story!” she exclaims, thinking he’s moved purely by the power of art. “In 15 years you’ll be livin’ it!” Rick gasps, and fortunately she doesn’t get this one either. And so she comforts him, not knowing just how very much he needs her solace. It’s sort of ironic when you think about it. But, you know, touching!

Somewhere about this time we cut to Sharon, who’s finally in motion in a spiffy new Porsche, heading to, where else, a book store! To get a first edition of Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the d’Urbervilles as a gift for Roman!15 Which may be true, or may be the biggest whopper in the movie. Anyway, who would figure Tarantino for a “reader”? Not me!

Once Sharon gets her book, she spots a movie theater showing The Wrecking Crew, one of the “Matt Helms” sixties flicks ripping off James Bond, starring the very tongue in cheek, and semi-over-the-hill Dean Martin, but co-starring, yes, Sharon Tate!16 When she’s inside we see clips of the real film featuring Sharon, first a meet cute with Matt/Dean that features clumsy Sharon falling on her ass and showing us her panties, and later a fight scene between good Sharon and evil Nancy Kwan, with Nancy falling on her ass and showing us her panties! Take that, Asian bitch!

Well, it’s always good to see chicks’ panties, but Sharon’s repeated piano key smiles as the audience conveniently laughs and cheers her on get a little self-congratulatory for my ass. Sharon is clearly depicted as the “new Marilyn,” speaking in the same breathy, little girl voice, utterly stunning and cool, yet innocent and sweet, a combination not often found in the real world.

Rick, meanwhile, is having his second serious sitdown, this time with the budding star of Lancer, Timothy Olyphant as “James Stacy” as gunfighter “Johnny Madrid”, Since James Stacy is supposed to be the new kid on the way up, he might be expected to look younger than Rick, and thus intimidating. In fact, Olyphant is six years older than Leo and pretty much looks it, and Stacy treats Rick with surprising respect. (Surprising to me, at least. Aren’t young actors supposed to be assholes?) But the real point of this is for Jim to ask Rick if it’s true that he was once up for Steve McQueen’s role in The Great Escape, the film that made Steve a star?17

Rick modestly denies the story, or at least strongly soft-pedals it. Me in Steve’s big part? No, not really. Brief possibility, that’s all. Very brief. But then we see, more or less, “Rick’s dream”—clips from the real Great Escape with Leo/Rick visually dubbed in to replace Steve. It could have been him. He could have had Steve’s career. Bullitt? The Thomas Crown Affair? It could have been him. It could have been him. He coulda had class. He coulda been a contendah.18

The thing is, Rick has never been presented to us this way. He’s been the big, strong, good-looking boy with the big, strong shoulders, who could get on and off a horse without falling on his ass, and that’s it. Rick is the kind of pretty boy who cruises through life as long as everything comes easy and then crashes in middle age, like Erik Estrada, not the relentless egomaniacal striver who never takes no for an answer no matter how many times he gets it, like William Shatner.

In the meantime, finally, Cliff makes actual contact with one of the hippie chicks, the cute ‘n wanton Pussycat (Margaret Qualley), swinging her tight little butt around like she owns the world. The thing is, she probably does.19 He agrees to give her a lift, but won’t let her give him a blowjob, “explaining” that he doesn’t want to go to jail, although we can tell that the real reason is that he’s a gentlemen. Cliff has the definite vibe of the old-fashioned B-movie cowboy hero that I grew up watching on tv, utterly chaste and emotionally devoted only to his horse (Cliff has Brandy, of course), too complete in himself to even consider sharing his essence with anything as, well, as common, as a woman.

Cliff gets a jolt when he learns that Pussycat is living at the “Spahn movie ranch”, where Cliff and Rick used to film Bounty Law. He explains to her that he used to be a stunt man there, allowing her to explain to us that stunt men are the real heroes, because what they do is real, they aren’t phonies like actors. Just in case we couldn’t figure that part out for ourselves.

Well, back to Rick now, I think, and get to see an actual chunk of Lancer, filmed far more extravagantly, and elegantly, than any tv western would have been, yet with a pretty much standard script, though with some pretty spectacular behind the back shooting from Johnny Madrid, putting an uppity “businessman” in his place. Better stick to your ledgers, pencilneck!

The bit rumbles on, with plenty of moody, “intense” attitude from Rick, a seen it all, done it all, existential cowpoke who might remind some us of another Rick, the one who ran Rick's Café Américain down Casablanca way. But midway through the scene he starts blowing his lines and ends up stalking back to his trailer (but would he really have one?) to explode at himself in a predicable yet enjoyable scene. You goddamned asshole! You’re going to quit drinking, you hear me, you goddamned alcoholic! God damn it!

Well, back to Cliff, I think, in what is easily the most impressive section of the film, the visit to the Spahn ranch to see Charlie’s angels. The girls are beautifully creepy, staring at the intruder like so many marmosets, Dakota Fanning particularly memorable as ruthless boss lady Squeaky Fromme, who in real life was not involved directly in any of the murders but became notorious as the “spokeswoman” for the Manson family during his trial, and more notorious several years later when she tried to assassinate President Ford.

Squeaky sends a girl to fetch “Tex”, Charles Watson, played by Austin Butler, who played the lead role in the Sharon Tate murders, to check out the new guy. Tex arrives on horseback, suitably enough, and, in some serious dick measuring, Cliff reminisces about his visit to Houston, where he spent two weeks on a chain gang. “That was the last time I broke a policeman’s jaw, I can tell you that!” Although I expect that if you broke a policeman’s jaw in Houston, Texas back in the fifties you probably wouldn’t live to talk about it.

Pussycat really digs guys who break cops’ jaws, and it must sound good to Tex as well, so he rides off, getting back to his job as guide for dudes who want to visit the mountains. But once he’s gone, Cliff starts to get a little pushy. Is old George Spahn still around? Sure would like to visit old George and see how he’s doing. The girls all tell him no, clearly infuriated by his decision to penetrate beneath the surface of their groupthink. Word gets back to Squeaky, holed up in what Cliff knows is George’s old house, so she sends all the girls away and tries to face down Cliff, but he faces her down instead and finally has a thoroughly creepy conversation with old George (Bruce Dern), blind and helpless and utterly dependent on the girls.

Cliff, utterly frustrated by George’s utter dependence—he can’t be “saved” because he doesn’t want to be—strides out to meet the glaring, feral eyes of the assembled family. As he passes, Pussycat leaps onto the hood of a car and screams “George isn’t blind! You’re the one who’s blind!”

Cliff keeps on walking, only to find out that Rick’s Caddy has a flat, thanks to a giggly, half-naked Jesus clone with hillbilly teeth. Definitely time to kick some goddamn hippie ass! Something Tarantino clearly digs almost as much as smelling chick’s feet.

Cliff grabs the punk by the hair and pummels him half to death. That’ll teach you! Now fix the goddamn flat! “Gypsy” (Lena Dunham) sends one of the girls off on a horse to get Tex—something she might have thought of earlier—and Tex comes riding up in an excellent display of horsemanship, that is as gratuitous as the beatdown Cliff gives the Jesus dude,20 because by the time he gets back Cliff is gone.

Finally (I guess), we cut back to Rick, headed back on the set for one last shot at redemption. Spaghetti western “bullfighter/showdown” music blares operatically on the soundtrack, as Rick walks through the soundstage for the final showdown, the one between Rick Dalton and ... Rick Dalton! Can he cut it, or is he history?

In Rick’s big scene, he’s kidnapped Maribella, holding her on his lap with his six-shooter pointed at her head while he holds forth in a swaggering conversation with “Scott Lancer” (Luke Perry in his last role, as the actor Wayne Maunder). Since Rick/Caleb clearly has the upper hand, fancy-pants Scott (he apparently went to Harvard) can do nothing other than listen to Caleb’s trash talk, which Caleb concludes by throwing Maribella violently to the floor in a display of his ruthlessness. Cut! Cut! Rick made it all the way through the scene! In flying colors!

“I didn’t hurt you, did I, darlin’?” Rick asks.

“I’m fine,” Maribella reassures him, popping up to show him her arm. “See, I have padding!”

Sam Wanamaker (Sam the director) rushes up.

“Rick, you were fabulous! Exactly what I wanted! Evil, sexy Hamlet!”

Rick sits there, a little stunned by the outpouring of passion he’s achieved.

“Rick, Rick, your adlibs were amazing! ‘Beaner bronco-buster’?21 Why, that’s triple alliteration! And throwing the little girl on the floor! Beautiful!”

Yeah, but, uh, if the toss was an adlib, why was Maribella wearing padding?22 Anyway, tossing an eight-year-old around like a ping-pong ball as an adlib sounds a little dubious to me. Good thing her parents weren’t around!

But Tarantino isn’t done gilding the lily. Trudi/Maribella, whose dedication to her craft makes Stanislavski look like a slacker, tells him “that’s the best acting I’ve ever seen!”

Which is all a little silly, because no one, but no one has ever suggested that he had any real talent as an actor, and he’s never expressed any interest in his “craft”, other than not looking like an asshole and not losing his paycheck. But Tarantino somehow can’t resist violating Rick’s real character in order to make him look heroic, a goddamn Laurence Olivier in chaps!

After all this, we have a grotesquely awkward “transition”, narrated by Kurt Russell, about Rick and Cliff’s excellent Italian adventure, which one can very easily believe was originally intended to take up a good chunk of the film, probably extending its running time to something close to three and half hours, but, for whatever reason, that doesn’t happen. Instead, we get a few cutesy movie posters, and a few little anti-PC snickers directed at American Indians, who seem to rub Quentin the wrong way for whatever reason, and also Rick gets married to this Italian broad, who snores a lot, just like Sharon. As for “acting”—evil, sexy Hamlet and all that—well, Quentin seems to have forgotten all about it, and Rick is back in character as the self-indulgent bad boy who loafs through life, traveling first class thanks to his broad shoulders and pretty face, while devoted Cliff sits in coach and chugs Bloody Marys, because, it seems, Rick’s cutting him loose. Can’t afford a wife and a bottom at the same time!

Once Rick and “Francesca” (Lorenza Izzo) are installed in Rick’s old place, Russell continues his tiresome narration, setting up that fateful night when all four story lines will coincide. Rick and Cliff head out for one last celebratory drunk and then head back, Russell constantly stressing to us, for some reason, that Rick and Cliff are like totally blind, stinking drunk, even though they don’t really act that way. Francesca’s already in bed (she stayed home, naturally), Rick’s mixing margheritas, and Cliff’s taking Brandy for a walk. S/He’s there, for some reason (really, of course, for plot reasons). Cliff decides he’ll smoke this LSD-soaked cigarette that Pussycat sold him, even though, the web informs me, “smoking” LSD destroys its hallucinogenic power (because the heat causes it to break down chemically).

While Cliff’s gone, Tex and three of the Manson girls—Susan Atkins (Mikey Madison), Patricia Krenwinkle (Madisen Beaty), and Linda Kasabian (Maya Hawke)—arrive to do the Polanski household in, pulling up in a noisy, busted muffler car. Rick stumbles out with his carafe full of margheritas to tell those goddamn hippies to get off his goddamn private drive and smoke their goddamn pot someplace else. Tex, apparently not wanting to have to kill this guy, backs the car down the drive, while Rick takes his margheritas out to one of his favorite retreats, the chair floating in his kidney-shaped pool.

The hippies reconnoiter. “You know who that was? Rick Dalton!” “Rick Dalton? Rick fucking Dalton?” “Rick Fucking Dalton!” “Fuck! You know what? Guys like that, they taught us to murder. I say, let’s murder the murderers!”

As it turns out, Kasabian bails, driving away in the car,23 but Tex, with a six-shooter shoved in his pants, and Patricia and Susan, armed with knives, head up the drive.

Cliff, by this time, is back inside the house, fixing Brandy dinner when the kids show up. After some cutesy, high on LSD antics, the action finally starts, Tex pointing his six-shooter at Cliff’s head. Brandy, flying through the air, disarms him and then fixes her teeth in his balls while Cliff brains Atkins with a can of Wolf’s Tooth. Krenwinkle stabs Cliff in the thigh, causing him to grab her by the hair and smash her face into a variety of unyielding surfaces, which starts to look a little sadistic on Tarantino’s part after the third or fourth smash. Somewhere along the line Brandy switches from Tex to Atkins, dragging her around the room like the shark in the beginning of Jaws. Tex stumbles to his feet and tries to stab Cliff, but gets stabbed instead, then gets knocked down and then (I think) Cliff breaks his neck. But then Atkins gets hold of Tex’s gun and shoots Cliff, causing him to fall over as though he were dead. The girl staggers to her feet, her face covered in blood and screaming like a maniac, and stumbles out to the pool, waving Tex’s gun and firing off a round or two, finally catching Rick’s attention. Guess what, headphones!

Atkins crashes into the pool, still firing the gun. Rick sobers up quickly and, finding his trusty flamethrower—you didn’t see that coming? Amateur!—roasts the bitch.

The police arrive to figure things out. Guess what? Cliff ain’t dead! Sounding awfully coherent for a guy who’s drunk, high on LSD, stabbed in the thigh, and shot, he tells Rick not to come to the hospital with him but tend to his lady. Because greater love hath no bottom than to give up his life, not for his top, but for his top’s lady!

“You’re a good friend, Cliff,” Rick tells him.

“I try,” says Cliff.

Hey! Didn’t we hear that line before?

But the good news isn’t over yet! Jay Sebring (Emile Hirsch), one of Sharon’s houseguests, hears the commotion and asks Rick what’s happening. Rick fills him in and, one way or another, Sharon hears their conversation and calls down on the intercom to invite Rick up for a drink. And so the gates to the magic kingdom—the magic kingdom of A-listers and Playboy Mansion attenders—open for Rick. Let the pool parties begin!

Afterwords I Movie Violence

When I first heard that Tarantino was making a movie about “old” Hollywood starring Leo and Brad I was intrigued. When I learned that Leo would be living next door to Sharon Tate, not so much. I hated Tarantino’s chef d'œuvre Pulp Fiction, and I detested Kill Bill Volume I, and one thing I did not want to see was Tarantino’s take on the Tate/Manson murders. When I learned that Quentin was rewriting history—in tune, really, with my own squeamish predilections—I thought I would take a chance. In any event, there are lots of violent films that I do like, including Bonnie & Clyde and Terminator 2. What’s the difference between “good violence” and “bad violence” other than the eye of the beholder?

Well, not much, obviously. The “sword blade through the milk carton and the mouth and out the back of the head” shot from Terminator 2 is “classic”,24 but you wouldn’t like it if someone did that to you, would you?

Much of the violence in Once Upon A Time is gratuitous in that it’s clearly wish fulfillment on Tarantino’s part, but there’s little that I found outright sadistic, which is what I really object to. It’s notably less sadistic than the coming features that I saw advertised with the film—It Chapter 2, Hide and Seek, and Joker. Obviously, audiences like sadistic.

Afterwords II Helter Skelter Despite the “massive” sixties soundtrack, in one sense the silence is deafening, because there is, unsurprisingly, nothing from the “White Album”. Like several million other people, Charles Manson thought the Beatles recorded this famous double album just for him, and that every song had a particular meaning. “Helter Skelter” (in Great Britain, an amusement park ride) was for Manson the signal for the start of a race war in America, which would some how allow him to seize power, in some manner. The Tate murders were intended, more or less, to provoke that war because the police were intended to believe that black revolutionaries had committed them. Vincent Bugliosi, the district attorney who prosecuted Manson and the others, wrote a book, with Curt Gentry, Helter Skelter, about the case, which was later turned into a television mini-series.

Esmé was thirteen. Making “Trudi Fraser” eight seems really a stretch to me. ↩︎

Did Tarantino invent “fake” sixties tunes as well? Not impossible, but it seems unlikely. ↩︎

Word can spell “Sestero” but not “Wiseau”? Tommy won’t like that! Greg’s book, The Disaster Artist, which he co-wrote with Tom Bissell, revealed to the world the bizarre backstory behind Wiseau’s cult classic di tutti cult classics, The Room, and is definitely superior to Franco’s film, which derives half its considerable charm by simply recreating classic scenes from Wiseau’s ineffable creation. ↩︎

Dunno if Tarantino just wanted the car to sound cool or if he was parodying this frequent device as used by other directors. Anyone who knows anything about cars knows that tiny, underpowered English sports cars do not sound like this. As dubious car enthusiast Mort Sahl put it, “MGs are great if you don’t mind being blown off by housewives in Plymouth station wagons.” Jews are into cars? ↩︎

Marvin says “kinescope” rather than “tape” because consumer videotape machines didn’t exist in 1969. The networks used tape, but Marvin would have needed a film version, a “kinescope”, which is what the networks used before the development of videotape, to view using a projector. *Once Upon A Time” is filled with anachronisms, but film buff Tarantino gets this one right. However, the “Hullabaloo” clip is filmed in wide-screen, which of course is totally inaccurate. Leo’s performance looks as though it were based on the persona of fifties super-square Pat Boone. ↩︎ ↩︎

I have no grasp of LA geography, so I have no idea of where Rick and Cliff are. ↩︎

The Karmann Ghia was simply an Italian-bodied Volkswagen bug. If Cliff had the “big” engine (presumably, he did), he could hit 90. If not, 75 was probably the top. ↩︎

Brad addresses Brandy as “man” in this scene even though the actual dog, "Sayuri", is a female and is referred to as such in the final scenes. ↩︎

A place like Rick’s would of course require constant upkeep to avoid turning into a mess, but, as is so often the case in film, the place somehow cleans itself. ↩︎

Jay Leno described his one Mansion visit as “a lot of middle-aged men hitting on a lot of young women.” ↩︎

Cass Elliot grew up in Alexandria, Virginia, which is next to Falls Church, where I grew up. On the M&Ps’ cover of the Martha and the Vandellas hit “Dancin’ in the Street”, the M&Ps fade out the song with the list of the cities where they’re, you know, dancing in the street—“Baltimore and DC now”—with the following barely audible dialogue: “Alexandria?” “In Virginia, Virginia.” “Falls Church?” “Never heard of it.” Both are suburbs of Washington, DC. Falls Church is supposedly the setting for at least two tv shows, JAG and The Americans. ↩︎

Three of their songs are heard on the soundtrack, though they only sing one of them—“Twelve Thirty”. Both “Twelve Thirty” and “Straight Shooter” are explicitly about heroin addiction, while the third and most famous, “California Dreamin’”, strongly hints at it. The sheet music for “Straight Shooter” was found on a piano at the scene of the actual Manson/Tate murders. ↩︎

“Stella shits!” exclaimed Jonathan Swift regarding Esther Johnson, his life-long obsessive love, whom he first met when she was eight. Quentin seems to hate women yet want to smell their feet. ↩︎

In an interview, Tarantino has “explained” that in “real life” Cliff would kick Bruce Lee’s ass because war hero Cliff was a Green Beret. Since Cliff, like Rick, is supposed to be pushing 40, he would have to have been a “war hero” in Korea. Combat operations in Korea ended with the 1954 armistice. Special forces troops never wore the green beret until 1955, and it was almost immediately discontinued until revived in 1961. They received enormous publicity in the sixties. I don’t know why they’ve been supplanted by the Seals as the ultimate bad asses. ↩︎

Anyone who likes books likes first editions, but I very much dislike the use of first editions as a way to make books expensive status symbols. Go Kindle! (And, in any event, if I had a copy of a 90-year-old first edition, I wouldn’t carry it unprotected in my sweaty little hand, as Sharon does.) ↩︎

I rented one of Matt’s/Dean’s films for some purpose—I can’t remember why—and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t The Wrecking Crew, but it was so slow-paced and boring that I couldn’t watch it, il Dino wandering around like he’d had more whiskey sours than Rick Dalton. ↩︎

McQueen started out in tv as the star of Wanted Dead or Alive, the very obvious “inspiration” for Bounty Law. McQueen, a very big star in 1969, thanks to Bullit and Crown Affair, which were in fact his only two films to be remembered, was supposedly “targeted” by Manson as part of his plan to cause the U.S. to erupt in a race war. Which may be why he’s such a presence in this film. Or not. ↩︎

“Instead of a bum, which is what I am”—Marlon Brando’s lines from On the Waterfront, once among the most quoted in American film, bitterly complaining to his brother, played by Rod Steiger, that his career as a boxer was ruined when he was forced, by his brother, to throw a fight. ↩︎

Qualley, who has had extensive ballet training, is probably the best dancer in the whole film. ↩︎

It would also likely leave the horse exhausted for the rest of the day. Horse races only last a mile or so because horses can’t gallop for much longer than that. ↩︎

Not exactly that, probably, anyway, three “b’s”. ↩︎

Also, the camera backs up to keep Maribella in the shot, which it wouldn’t have done if Cliff’s action had been an adlib. ↩︎

In “real life”, Kasabian did not drive away but remained behind as a lookout. Kasabian was involved—always as a bystander, she claimed—in many of the murders committed by Manson and his followers, but was able to avoid prison time by serving as the key witness against the others. ↩︎

“God damn it! How many times do I have to tell you? Don’t drink out of the carton?” It’s “nice” that the T-1000 stays in character as the past her limit housewife as “she” pulls her blade/hand from the dumb shit’s head. ↩︎

#quentin tarantino #Once Upon a Time in Hollywood #Leo DiCaprio #Brad Pitt #movies

[annoyed-tampon-blog]

Sniper Goes Camping- 1

Chapter 1 Sniper rolled over in bed, a splitting headache forming in the back of his head, and slowly got up and gave a mighty yawn. He shivered a little as his bare feet touched the cold floor of his camper van, but he fought against it and got up to make himself a pot of fresh coffee, his cure for his caffeine withdraw. As he waited for his coffee to brew, he rolled out a map and studied it for a bit, memorizing the route he was going to take to get to a camping site about a state or two over from Teufort. Once he said his farewells to everybody for the four day weekend, he'd head out and be at the site around supper time. Because of the long weekend, a lot of the guys would be out and visiting families or doing whatever, be it training or whatnot. The coffee was soon ready and Sniper poured it into a large mug. The assassin left his camper and pulled out a folding chair and plumped into it, stretching out his long, slender legs and sighing happily as he adjusted his hat, watching the sun peek over the desert sands in the distance. To him, there was never the same sunset or sunrise. Each one was different: Different colors in the sky, different cloud formations, different sights and sounds each and every morning and each and every night. His most favorite would have to be the pink or red with a touch of clouds in the distance as the sun slowly rode up in the sky. To him, it was heaven. After finishing his pot of coffee, Sniper headed over to the base to gather some supplies for his trip. The usual essentials: some backup knives, Medkits and such. Never know if he was going to be mauled by a bear in the wilderness. Or if he was going to be stranded and having to keep warm in a bear he mauled for shelter. The shuffling of the noise was nearby Scout's room, so who would have guessed a young twenty-three year old city boy would wake up, totally interrupted of precious beauty sleep wasted by Sniper. Sniper was tossing out Frying Pans, trophies, swords, armor, and a rubber ducky behind him and hitting the wall, making a rather large pile. Who'da thunk? And he was in his boxers. Classic Scout. "Yo, Snipes. What the hell are ya doin'? Don't ya know what time it is?" Scout grumbled as he rubbed his eye tiredly, a look of unamusement on his face. Sniper didn't reply, as he kept trying to look for something. "Where the hell is that bloody tarp?" he asked himself, continuing to make a large mess behind him. "Sniper! Hey, I'm talkin' ta ya! Hello, earth-to-Snipes?!" Scout shouted near Sniper's face. Sniper's head perked up a bit and he turned to Scout, before turning up a corner of his lip in a scowl and returning to tossing items behind him. "Oh, it's you," was all the assassin said. "Yeah, 'me'. Seriously, what the hell's with all the noise? Ya woke me up!" Scout replied sharply, dodging another tossed object. Sniper didn't reply, since he was busy stuffing his arm into a hole in the closet of god-knows-what and tugging onto something before jerking back violently. More junk came out in a heaping pile at his feet, but Sniper got what he wanted. It was a green tarp, alright. The pegs he needed were already in his van, so all he had to do… Wait. "Scout, clean this up, will ya?" Sniper said as he walked off with the tarp. "What?! Hell no! I didn't make this fuckin' mess! You clean it up!" Scout shouted at Sniper, who continued to walk off. Defeated and enraged, Scout kicked an object in the pile and swore loudly, obviously forgetting he was barefoot. ._._._. Around breakfast, the Mercs were just starting to get up. Not by the sing-song birds, but because of Scout yelling his head off about having to clean up a mess he didn't make, in hopes the whole world would hear. In a way, they did. The German doctor, Medic, yelled at Scout to "Schnauze!" which Scout knew by now was "shut up!" as the Medic rubbed his temples from gaining a splitting headache over the noise. Medic walked over with a few other comrades to the breakfast hall, where Soldier, always up and ready, was sitting at the tables, an empty plate in front of him, like he was expecting to be "arrive first, served first, eat first". Pyro, the second to usually be up but wasn't this morning, was in the kitchen making breakfast, which was burnt pancakes. The lifesaver of breakfast, Dell, was in the kitchen with Pyro, making his famous bacon and grits, eggs to the Merc's liking and style, and some fresh homemade buttermilk biscuits to top it off. Usually the Mercs take turns with cooking breakfast on a rotation, but Dell always made the best out of everyone. A home cooked meal that'd "put some meat on your bones and give ya enough energy to last until supper time" as Engineer liked to say. Since Dell grew up on a ranch with his daddy, he knew "the start of a hard workin' day was a good, wholesome breakfast." "C'mon, guys, rise and shine!" Engineer called out to the dining hall as he started serving the plates of eggs, bacon and grits onto the long metal counter. "Biscuits are just about done, but they gotta cool a bit before ya eat 'em." Soldier was up and already filled his plate to the brim and began eating, claiming that "If you made mud pies in the war, Engie, it'd still taste like good ol' American home cookin'!" Medic also filled his plate, along with Heavy, Demoman and Sniper, who came in a little later after finishing up with packing for his trip, and they each sat at their respected seats. Medic and Heavy usually sat together, like any other morning, and spoke of different things. Today's topic was "Vhy vas Scout screaming?" "Little man has big lungs. Even in morning. Heavy has headache," Heavy sighed as he rubbed his head with a hand. "Jah, my head feels like it is about to burst. Like I drank a can of zat blasted BONK Scheiße," Medic replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Lil' wanker was whinin' because he had to clean up after me "mess". He did owe me for that one time," Sniper replied to the doctor before dipping his bacon into his eggs. "Tha' one time?" Demoman asked, puzzled. "Don' ask." Sniper took a long gulp from his coffee, and it was left at that. "Yo, who's idea was it to keep the jars fulla PISS next to my Mad Milk storage?!" cried the youngest merc, who stormed into the dining area and was, thankfully, fully clothed this time. "Says the van who stores his manners up vere it shouldn't be," Medic replied as he rolled his eyes. "Herr Scout, just sit down and eat." "Little man should eat. Best silence is when your mouth full of food," Heavy said, causing a few of the mercs to laugh a little. "Shut it, Fatass," Scout snarked back as he filled his plate with food. Scout sat down with the rest of the Mercs and began to shovel his breakfast. "Don't choke, boy." Scout looked up and saw Spy behind him, smoking as usual as he leaned against the wall in the back. "Don't cough up a lung, Frenchie. Seriously, it's eight in the mornin' and you're smokin'?" Scout replied as he stuffed more egg and bacon into his mouth. Spy just replied by taking a puff of his cigarette and blowing a long, slow stream of smoke. Scout just huffed and continued. "Spah's right, Scout," Engineer said as he brought over a plate filled with biscuits, which everybody took a piece or two. "Whatever. Snipes. What's with the mess this mornin' anyways and wakin' me up?" Scout said as he looked over to Sniper, bits and pieces of food popping out of his mouth. Sniper scowled again before he answered. "I was tryin' to find a tent tarp. I'm goin' out this weekend on a trip." "What, to Australia? Ain't those trips longer than four days?" Engineer asked this time as he sat with the rest of the group, Pyro sitting next to him with a strawberry milkshake for his breakfast. "Yeah, but I heard there's a place in Minnesota that's good for campin' out, so I thought I'd give it a try," Sniper replied as he munched on his bacon and eggs. "Pfft!" Scout said. "Campin's easy. Ya just sit on your ass all day doin' nuthin'. Just like ya do at your job." "I bet you can't last a day in the woods, Wanker," Sniper growled. "Oh yeah? I'm the BEST at everything! I'll prove you wrong, Snipes! I'll even go without technology! No phones, no nuthin'! I'll live off the land, no problem!" Scout said as he slammed his silverware on the table, a smug smirk on his face. "Alright. It's a deal. We leave tonight," Sniper replied, calmly finishing his cup of coffee. "Four days with no tv? Hah! Sounds like four MINUTES to me!" Scout laughed as he picked at his teeth with his finger. "Easy!" Demoman looked over to Soldier and leaned in to him and whispered, "I bet me crate of Scrumpy he'll be back within' the 'our o' leavin'." ._._._. After an hour of getting Scout packed and ready for the trip, Scout continued to boast as what he was best at, causing Sniper to take a bandana and stuff it in Scout's mouth, shutting him up… temporarily. "Ya'll come back in one piece, alright?" Engineer said as Sniper got into the driver's seat of the van. "Scout might be sent back in a body bag once I get annoyed by him enough. Trust me, mate… don't be surprised if he shows up within the hour," Sniper replied as he buckled up. Sniper turned on the van and waved an arm out the window as his farewell to hell with Scout. "Later losers!" Scout called out as the van drove off into the distance. Silence. Sweet, glorious silence. All the mercs took a fresh breath of air and exhaled happily. Silence. But that was a good five seconds before Soldier bellowed: "SURPRISE DRILL, MAGGOTS!"