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mail-me-a-snail · 4 years

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House Keys

chase…oh chase i love you so but you’re in for it now. chase brody, the former bro average superstar, comes home for the first time in a year.

part 1 part 2 part 3 Even if Chase Brody had moved out the year prior, he still has the keys to his brothers’ house. He stands now on the crisp, green lawn and swings the key-chain around. He cards a hand through his hair and rubs his eyes—he doesn’t get much sleep these days. Three years before he moved into his brothers’ house, he was sleeping in the back of his car. He’s been conditioned to fall asleep on the hard leather of the car seat, not in his own bed. He didn’t have a bed those weeks. Stacy and him still don’t talk.

He shoots Marvin a text.

hey bro im outside. will come in with the keys. jackie okay? are you all okay? There’s no response. Chase shrugs and tucks his phone into the pocket of his jeans. He’s a little hurt, but it’s fine. It’s Chase’s first visit since he’s moved out. It’s exactly as he remembers it. The lawn is in immaculate condition, with the hedges trimmed neatly and flowers springing up all over the place—Jameson was always in charge of that. He has an eye for lawn care. He takes after Jack. The door and porch are dark mahogany, though it’s washed in orange now as the sun is starting to set. The house itself is painted an egg white. The tiles of the roof are black. Potted plants litter the porch, some new, some old, but all beautiful and trimmed to perfection. No doubt it’s Marvin’s work. The sidewalk he stands on is decorated with faded chalk drawings. Robbie. Of course. Chase is standing on his own face drawn in chalk. It’s a wonderful likeness and Chase can’t help but smile. Robbie even got the faded green in his hair. He steps off. He doesn’t want to ruin a masterpiece. The light in the wide upper story window—Henrik’s room—is off. The doctor’s probably getting his much needed and deserved forty winks. The only light on is in the living room. He takes a deep breath, the kind that pulls his shoulders up like he’s shrugging, and walks towards the door. Anxiety wriggles in his belly. He clutches the keys tightly in his hand—they bite into the skin and leave an impression with their teeth. He remembers the call with Marvin the night before. He had been in his apartment putting together some videos when his phone had rung. Marvin had explained everything to him; finding Jackie bleeding out in the city, teleporting him home, the surgeries…all of it. Jackie was okay, Marvin had assured him, and that he would heal. But the fact that it was…was you-know-who’s work… It hadn’t stop his hands from shaking as soon as he said goodbye and dropped the call nor did it let him breathe. His panic attacks were always bad, but he managed the one he had that night fine. And the one in the bathroom this morning. On the drive here, too. He doesn’t have everything under control yet. Being here again reminds him of all the times you-know-who had been there. He had been there, for Jack and Henrik. It went the same way; a phone call. A panic attack. The fear. Now it’s happening all over again. Why can’t he ever escape the demon? Why can’t any of them? Even a year after…he still looks over his shoulder and tosses and turns at night. When will he stop being afraid? The keys bite into his palm like his old dog had lovingly done. He misses him. Stacy had to take that away from him, too. The sting and the thought of Bulls-eye grounds Chase and he lets go, letting it hang by the key-chain instead. Deep breaths. He slides the key into the lock and turns. The door opens. Chase looks around as he steps into the hall. It’s just the same. The walls are orange. The umbrella stand to the right of the door filled with Marvin’s props, the coat hanger opposite, and the stairs upwards at the very front. To his immediate left is the closed door to Henrik’s makeshift clinic. To his right is the doorway to the living room. There’s a movie on, though Chase can’t identify it as the volume is set way down low. He doesn’t know where to go first as he stands awkwardly in the middle space. “Hello?” He says to the seemingly empty house. “Is anyone home? Marv? Schneep?” “Chase,” His heart skips a beat when he hears the raspy call from the living room, but he brightens when he recognizes the voice. “In here.” Chase has to stop himself from running into the living room. Brown couch, flat screen TV (playing Die Hard, of course), wide windows, and white curtains that blow softly. The coffee table has coffee mug rings on it and abandoned medical supplies like gauze, cotton balls, and antibiotics. Henrik’s neatly folded coat, too. Jackie sits on the couch in a black t-shirt with the brightly coloured graphic of a cartoon dog on a bicycle. He wears the flamingo shorts to accompany it. It’s the first time Chase has seen the hero out of his supersuit; it almost feels wrong. His hair is the neon green Chase remembers it to be. He’s wearing his mask. The only sign he’s been hurt at all are the bandages around his neck and forehead. He’s hardly watching the movie. He has a big smile on his face, the toothy kind of sunshine Chase missed so much. “Jackie,” he breathes. Chase wants to cry with relief. He settles with hugging Jackie as tightly as he can. “I missed you, Jackie,” he says, muffled as he buries his head into the hero’s chest. “I was so worried about you!” “O-ow, ow,” the other hacks out a laugh and winces, patting Chase’s back. “I missed you, too, bud, but…stab wound.” “Shit, right, sorry.” Chase lets go, albeit reluctantly. “Dude, how are you? It’s, I mean—I’ve never been stabbed before.” “I don’t recommend it,” Jackie grimaces. There’s humour in his voice but he also sounds exhausted. “You get here okay?” “Parked out front,” he says, “Came in with the keys. Still have ‘em.” He holds them up to confirm that. He drops them in his lap. “How’re you holding up?” “This thing—” Jackie pats his stomach, presumably where the wound is. “—is a bitch and a half of pain. The neck thing I can handle. It just hurts to talk.” He coughs. It sounds like shaking a dead bush. “Really hurts.” “Oh, I can do the talking, if you want.” “No, it’s okay, Chase. Marvin did something to me, I think, when I was out. Makes my mouth and throat taste like mint. Pretty soothing, actually. Besides, I haven’t seen you in forever! I want to talk.” How can he be so chipper even after he almost died? Chase doesn’t understand it. He really is a comic book superhero. Always getting back up again. “Aw, it hasn’t been that long,” Chase ducks his head, sheepish, but straightens right away. “Can I ask, though? What…what happened?” The silence is thick with tension. Chase bounces his leg, the sole of his sneaker squeaking against the hardwood floor, and pulls at the rubber bracelet around his right wrist under his hoodie sleeve. He picks at the multicoloured bandages on his fingers and arms. Jackie turns the TV off just as John McClain launches himself through a window. He turns to Chase. Their knees touch. “This is what I remember,” Jackie says, and begins. He had met Anti during one of his day patrols, but it wasn’t the song and dance number they usually did; it was in the back-alleys where no one could see them. Maybe that’s what Anti wanted. Maybe it wasn’t. “Anti had…had said something to me,” he mumbles, “that I’m not the hero I think I am. That all of what we do, this hero versus villain thing, is just a show. I-I don’t know why he’s been pretending this long, or…or what he hopes to gain, but…” Chase watches him closely. Jackie stops, shakes his head, and moves on. That’s how the hero has always been. Hit a wall? Just go around. Forget about the wall and keep going. He remembers the fight—and the pinning stab through the gut. The words Anti whispered into his ear. Chase is trembling with raw anger as he sees the large dark bruise marks wrapped around Jackie’s neck where Anti’s hands had been. “But after that,” he growls in frustration, “I can’t remember anything else. By my wound here, I can guess what finished me off.” He taps his neck. “Everything else is beyond me.” “Fuck him” Chase breathes, voice quivering with fury, “You’re a hero to me, to everyone. To Jack.” Jackie flinches when he hears those words. “I don’t have any powers,” Jackie mutters. “What? Yeah, you do! That—that super strength of yours!” “Anti can manipulate objects,” Jackie shoots back, “Time and space, just like Marvin can. How do I know he hasn’t been doing it for me this whole time?” “I…I don’t know.” The anger evaporates as quickly as it came. “I-I don’t want to talk about this.” Jackie throws his hands up. “Please, Chase, let’s…let’s talk about you, okay? I want to hear about where you’ve been—what you’ve done.” Chase bites his lip, trying to find a way to stop the subject from changing. The one frustrating thing about superheroes? They build walls around them, shutting the people they love out hoping to save them from whatever inner turmoil they’re wrangling with. …Chase isn’t stupid or in denial. Even he can admit the similarities between them. But that’s just it. Chase knows he does it—Jackie doesn’t. He’d rather not push further and get into an argument, spoiling the whole visit, so Chase drops it. It’ll sit in the back of his mind, though. He tells Jackie about the new apartment; it’s spacious and less of a dump than the last one. Modest kitchen, shower instead of a tub. “I miss the tub here,” he says forlornly, gesturing to the stairs. “And my little rubber ducky. Shower’s okay, though.” He earns Jackie’s laugh. The apartment is far into the city, maybe ten blocks away from the alley Marvin had found Jackie in, and just across a coffee shop. Having cleaner, more colorful walls than ugly white granite that popcorned helps a lot to take his mind off more…painful things. He hung up posters, bought a flatscreen, had a whole new gaming rig up for himself—he’s doing okay for himself, he thinks. The therapy, the talking, has brought him out of the hole he was in three years before. He tells him about new friends. Baristas at the coffee shop who’ve recognized him as a regular. YouTube is more fun than anything for him right now. The Bro Average brand was dissolved, but he couldn’t care less. It had been time for a fresh start. His channel is up and running and he’s been invited to panels, talks, and conventions. Some people from AA said they had watched his videos. He tells Jackie about how good it is to just. Work. To produce content for others to consume, to make people happy, but not at the cost of his own happiness. He notices he’s rambling when Jackie says nothing and keeps beaming at him. He falters and lets his words trail off into silence. “What?” Chase says. “I’m so proud of you,” Jackie replies, and the pride is trembling in his voice. “Chase, you’ve gotten so far without us. You’ve got a job, a new house—you’re practically shining!” “You’re…you’re proud of me? You mean it?” Chase feels himself smile, too. “Yes. I’m proud.” Jackie puts a hand on his shoulder. “You’re my bro. You’re the bravest damn person I know and you’ve come out of this so strong, so…it’s…Jack would be proud too.” Chase understands why he starts crying. That’s all he ever wanted. To hear those words come out of Jackie’s mouth. It means he’s done it. He’s gotten better. Maybe not recovered fully, not just yet, but better. Even in his joy, he hates himself for crying because whenever he cries he bawls like a big baby. He buries his face into Jackie’s chest, shoulders shaking. He’s staring at the cartoon dog through blurry, teary eyes. The dog says, in a neon bubble, “RADICAL!” The other rubs his back in soothing circles. “That’s it, buddy,” Jackie whispers, “I’ve got you, bro.” Chase swallows thickly, sniffles, and wipes his face with the back of his hand. Jackie hands him a tissue and he blows. His eyes are stuffy. He looks up into Jackie’s eyes, milky white, hidden behind the film in the mask, but he can tell they’re full of soft, unspoken love. The hero holds his cheek. “Chase Brody Mcloughlin,” Jackie declares, “I, your loving bro, will never stop being proud of you. Don’t forget that.” “Thanks, Jackie,” he sniffs, wiping his eyes. “Thank you. It’s…i-it’s nice to hear that what I’m doing is finally right.” “We’re all proud of you.” Jackie’s hand drops but gives Chase’s shoulder one last firm pat. “S-speaking of,” Chase clears his throat. “Speaking of…where is everyone?” Jackie blanks. “Uh,” he says, unsure. “Good question, actually! No idea. I woke up, like, ten minutes before you came in. I kind of assumed Henrik went to work, and who knows where Marvin is at any given time? JJ and Robbie are out on vacation or something. It’s just Henrik, Marvin, and I.” “Huh,” Chase frowns and stands. “You wait here, Jackie. Henrik can’t have gone to work; he’d never leave you here alone.” “Marvin would be watching over me!” He argues. “This is Marvin we’re talking about!” He shoots back as he leaves the room. He considers going upstairs but stops before he can do it. He notices, to his surprise, that across the hall the clinic’s lights are on. How did he not notice that coming in? The harsh white fluorescents bounce off the tiles and under the door. Chase knocks. “Doc? Marv?” He says, “Yoo-hoo. Anyone in there?” Of course, unsettling silence follows. Great. Chase has played enough horror games to know that whatever’s on the other side is bad. He flinches as glass shatters behind the door. A shadow moves under the door. “Henrik?” “Schiesse!” comes a muffled curse to answer. Angry German swearing? Yeah. That’s Henrik. “What the hell was that?!” Jackie says from the couch, halfway to standing. Chase notices he’s wobbling like a newborn deer. “Jackie, get back on the couch,” Chase scolds the hero, “You’re in no condition to walk!” He turns back to the door. “Doc, I’m coming in.” He takes a deep breath, grips the doorknob, and turns. What he finds on the other side isn’t horrible, so he releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Henrik, hair messy and eye bags seemingly darker, clutching his head, is kneeling among shattered glass. From the way the metal table beside the hospital bed is on its side, Chase surmises that Henrik knocked it and the beakers that were on it to the ground when he tried to stand. “Doc!” He exclaims, rushing over to Henrik. He takes the doctor by the arm, helping him up, and looping the arm around his shoulders. “Danke,” Henrik grumbles, eyes still squeezed shut. “Chase, is that you?” “A-are you blind, Henrik?” Panic momentarily flares up in him. “Oh, jeez, I can get something for your eyes. Maybe ice—” “No,” Henrik sighs, but in the most affectionate way possible. He opens his eyes halfway, tired grey-blues looking up at him. “Chase, relax. I’m not blind. It’s these damn fluorescents—they could make me go blind. I don’t know why I thought they were a good idea. This nausea…it’s like someone took a hammer to my skull. Might as well have… I see enough of those lights in the hospital. Is it any wonder I wear glasses…” Henrik reaches into his pocket for something. He swears again as he brings out the bent and cracked frames of his glasses. “Oh, that is just great,” he hisses under his breath, “They must’ve gotten smashed in the fight.” “T…the what?” This is plenty strange already, but of course, he just has to notice only now that Marvin is crumpled in a desk chair, long, flowy hair messy and tangled, falling behind him as his head leans back, showing his neck. “Oh my God—Marvin!” “He’s okay,” Henrik straightens, though he’s still too weak to stand. Chase helps him into another chair. The doctor sits down with a sigh of relief, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. “What the hell happened here?” Chase gestures vaguely to the entire room. “To Marvin? Actually, to you? Was it…was it you-know-who?” “Anti,” the doctor spits. Chase winces at the name. “It’s not right to fear his name. He and I had an…encounter last night. I thought I was going to die.” He briefly touches his neck. Chase sees all the scars crisscrossed there; it’s why the doctor wears turtlenecks to work. He’s always been insecure about them. “I thought it was all over but…but I woke up here. My head hurts like a bitch but I’ve got no other wounds. My neck, my concussion—they’re healed, like they were never there. "So, I have reason to believe,” he continues, “Marvin used the full extent of his magic to save me. It’s probably why he’s passed out.” “He’s always been shit at restoration magic,” Chase jokes, but turns serious right away. “Jesus, doc. Are you really okay? Why the fuck did you-know-wh—I mean,—A…Anti go after you?” “Teach me a lesson? Finish me off?” Henrik raises his shoulder in a shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine. God, I’m sorry, Chase, that this is the scene you’ve returned to. You’ve had enough of this…this Anti business, and now we’re dragging you back into it. Forgive me.” “No, doc, don’t say that,” Chase waves him off, “it’s not your fault. Besides, the guy’s messing with my brothers. That’s not gonna fly with me.” His voice shakes. He knows how unconvincing his moxie is. He swallows the stone in his throat and turns away before Henrik can call him out on it. The man crosses the room and takes a trauma blanket from the cabinet—he practically knows the clinic as well as Henrik does—and drapes it over Marvin. The magician barely stirs. He’s completely out. “CHASE? IS EVERYONE OKAY?” Jackie shouts from the living room. Chase startles and nearly knocks some important doodad over. Henrik’s blue eyes crackle to life at the sound of the hero’s voice. “He’s okay,” he says more to himself than Chase, “Oh, God, he’s okay.” To Chase, he says, “Chase, help me up—I must see Jackie.” “But what about Marv?” “He’ll need rest. Neither of us are strong enough to move him upstairs. Please, Chase, let’s go.” Henrik is almost begging. The tone unnerves and stirs Chase into action. He helps the doctor, slowly and surely, into the living room. “Henrik?” Jackie breaths, “What happened to you? Why are you limping? Is Marvin o—” Henrik launches himself from Chase’s arms and onto Jackie, nearly tackling the hero into the sofa. Jackie grunts in pain. “You idiot,” Henrik growls, though with utmost love. “You had me so worried! You could’ve died.” He hugs Jackie tight, despite his weak state. “Don’t ever do that again.” “What, get stabbed?” When Henrik glares up at him, he sobers. “Okay, okay. I won’t. I promise. Chase, where’s Marvin?” “Getting some rest,” Chase explains, “He used a whole bunch of his magic to heal Henrik. A-Anti attacked the doc last night.” “He…what?” Jackie’s tone is dangerously quiet. His shoulders are tense—he looks like an apex predator. It takes everything in Chase not to back away. “Calm yourself,” Henrik cautions, “I’m okay now. Marvin made sure of it. It is true; I had a fight with Anti and…I did not emerge the victor. But it’s alright. I’m alright.” Jackie deflates and hugs Henrik back. “I’m glad you’re okay, doc.” “You too, Jackie.” Chase bites his lip and leaves the room. He knows what he said about Anti, that he’d be ready to fight the demon again, given the chance. It’s one big lie, because he is fucking terrified of Anti, terrified of the fact that this is all very real, and that it had gotten all too real very fast. He wants to run away in that stupid little way of his, where he drives and drives until he can’t or locks himself up in his room, anywhere where Anti can’t reach him. He’s managed not to see the demon for a full year. He can’t do this. He can’t. Not again. Not again. – Chase goes up to his room and finds the hatch to the roof still unlocked. He goes out and sits there, on the uncomfortable tiles, and stares up at the stars. It’s somewhere around 11:30, maybe midnight. He doesn’t check his phone. Henrik’s gone to sleep. Jackie had helped Chase move Marvin to the couch. The both of them weren’t nearly strong enough to bring him up to his bedroom. Some part of Chase is telling him to relapse. To drink. He snaps the rubber bracelet against his wrist over and over instead. It makes an angry red mark. It’s a distraction. It makes him all the more ashamed of how fast he crumbles in the face of all this. He’s hasn’t gotten better. Even in the darkness, he knows what the bracelet says. He’s seen it, worn it ever since the last time Anti had tormented him. Alcoholics Anonymous, in white letters against a garish neon green. His mouth tastes of smoke. His eyes are heavy. He is tired and deflated. His brothers nearly dead—what a sight to come home to. At least now, he’s here for them. He is so tired, he doesn’t turn around when the hatch opens and Jackie sits beside him. He’s changed out of that cartoon dog shirt—he sports one of Henrik’s striped shirts. “Hey,” Jackie greets him softly. Chase can see the hero watching the bracelet snap repeatedly against his wrist, which he doesn’t stop. “Hey.” Silence. Cicadas. Snap. Snap. Snap. “How long have you been sober?” Chase knows how much Jackie wants to say more, but he doesn’t. It’s a simple question. “A year.” An exact year from the last time Anti hurt him. He and Jackie match in scars now. Not on the neck, though. “Dude, that’s awesome. I’m proud of you.” The words are hollow. He doesn’t deserve them. Snap. Snap. Snap. “Chase?” Snap. Snap. Snap. “Welcome home.” Chase breaths shakily. His wrist stings. He cries, the fourth time that day, and bites back the urge to scream. “He’s g-going to f-find me again,” he says through quick breaths, “I’m n-next.” “Chase…” The man shakes his head furiously. “I-I’m not leaving. If he think he can fucking s-scare me,” Chase hiccups, “he’s w-wrong. I’m tired of r-running away. I’m going to fight.” Nothing, for a moment. Then, Jackie says, “It’s what Jack would’ve wanted.” Chase cries harder at that. He wants to toss his house keys off this damn roof and never see them again, because they remind him too much of the doors he’s just opened up. He’s not afraid. Shaking and sobbing, he is not afraid. He is furious.

#jacksepticeye #antisepticeye #chase brody #marvin the magnificent #jackieboy man #fanfiction #fic #nearly 4k words if you'll believe #jse #mine #my writing #alcoholism tw #alcohol ment #writersofjack

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #342

“in this farewell, there’s no blood, there’s no alibi / ‘cuz i’ve drawn regret from the truth of a thousand lies”

What’s your all-time favourite cartoon? Does anime count? In which case I'd say Fullmetal Alchemist, or the original Pokemon. If we're not including anime, then uhhhh Avatar: The Last Airbender, even though I have much more to go in the series. Have you ever taken dance lessons? What kind? Yeah, I've done a few for many years: jazz, clogging, modern, and hip hop. When did you last run and why? I literally couldn't tell you. I don't even know if I can run with the current state of my legs. My knees would probably crumple. Does your house/flat/whatever the hell you live in need cleaning? Not necessarily cleaning, but sorting. I still have boxes outside and inside my room of my stuff I need to put up somewhere... but whenever I prepare to do it, I just get so overwhelmed and shy away from it. Then there's the spare room, that's a total mess loaded with boxes and the like. Mom and I have just avoided it like the plague. Was your last relationship with a man or a woman? Woman. What do you think your next achievement will be? HOPEFULLY getting a job... Do you like mushrooms? NOOOOOOO. What dream do you remember most vividly? I'm not talking about it. Favorite kind of bread? Pumpernickel. Rabbits or hamsters? Rabbits. I've never met a nice hamster, and I just think rabbits are cuter. A movie you’ve never seen that it seems like every one else has? Harry Potter films. Favorite dog breed? I'm biased towards beagles. When was the last time you climbed a tree? Never, actually. Where I live, there aren't really many weighty trees with low branches. Just pine trees. Most common lie you tell? That I'm "fine" when I'm not. Ever seen your parents make out? Jc no, I'll take a hard pass there. Do you put your hair up a lot or down? It's too short to put up. Most of the time do you straighten or curl your hair? Neither. What piercing do you hate? I'm not a fan of cheek dermals at all, but you do you 100%. Were you raised in a religious house? Yes; I was raised Roman Catholic. Do your parents get mad when you're on the computer for hours? Mom used to for many years until I became an adult and she just realized it was in vain. I haven't lived with Dad since I was a teenager, but when my parents were together, he usually didn't say anything. Have you ever been asked for a nude picture? No, thankfully. I'd stop talking to the person immediately. What would you do if your parent hit you? I honestly feel like I'd slap them back and get the fuck out. Or just freeze in shock and cry. What's your most common mood? Stressed but distracted. Do you like poems? Yeah, usually. Ever kissed someone half-naked? Uh yeah. Have you ever been in a parade? No. Do you still play Pokémon? I play Pokemon GO, and I've actually been tempted to get out my DS and play one of the games I have (I can't remember which). I do find Pokemon games to be VERY grind-ey, though, so I can't play them for too long without getting bored. What is your favorite Pokémon? Ninetales. I also really love Espeon, though, and Charmander will always have my heart. Is there an animal you like that most people don't? Bats! :') Is there an animal that you think is overrated in terms of how it's liked? No animal is overrated. Have you ever "quit" a site and came back to it more than once? Uhhhh I don't think so. Do you have an "odd" fascination with anything? Most would probably consider "vulture culture" to be pretty weird, being drawn to dead animals and all... What's the hardest thing you've been through, & what did you learn from it? The breakup with Jason. I learned that some people make promises they aren't afraid to break, that someone can promise "forever" and not mean it, that the most unexpected can just snap their fingers and forget about you... I learned a lot. And most things, not positive. What are three "unrealistic" things you want most? 1.) To be able to financially support myself by just freelance nature photography; 2.) sooo many different kinds of pets; and 3.) to be totally rid of my mental illnesses. Do you take any daily vitamins? No, but I would if I was the one who bought groceries and stuff. I do however take Vitamin D once a week for my legs. Who are three of your favorite fictional characters of all time? JUST THREE??????? FUCK MAN idk. Uhhh well there's of course Darkiplier and Wilford Warfstache, then uhhh probably Pyramid Head. If you had to give the world a pre-existing mythological/fictional being, what would it be? Idk, I'd really need to be more educated on their lore before I made that decision. Do you have any desire to learn (a) foreign language(s)? Which? I both do and don't want to resume learning German. I got very good at it and could have basic conversations, but lack of application has slaughtered my vocabulary. Now it's like, it'd be nice to try again, but for what purpose? I don't think I'll ever actually apply it to my life, so it just seems like it'd be a load of wasted effort. But then on the other hand, I also feel that doing something you simply want to do isn't a waste of time. Idk. What is one of your firmest beliefs? Equality for all. No race, religion, whatthefuckever makes you more or less valuable than someone else. Do you have anything that keeps you from doing something you'd truly enjoy? Oh yes. Depression and anxiety, mostly. Do you work to fix your faults? Or at least, admit to them? I definitely try, and I'll certainly admit to them. How do you hope the world will change, if at all? I just want more compassion, less violence, more understanding... What is/are your view(s) on god, religion, spirituality, or relations to? In short, I believe that something sentient created the universe, and it/they/he/she/what-have-you just... let life play out from there, I think. I like to believe there's a plane of consciousness like an afterlife that exists, but if not, I don't really care. I hope the evil get what was coming to them, and the good get back what they gave, but maybe we're all better off without life after death. We'll all find out one day. Are you arachnophobic or scared of spiders in the least? Some, yes; others, not so much. This is very situational. Do you play WoW? What do you think of it either way? Haha, you're asking an avid player. I enjoy it, but not as much as I used to. At one point I was a Heroic raider, sometimes dabbling in Mythic, but now I'm just mostly a casual mount collector that likes chatting with my guildies and just doing dailies 'n shit. I owe a lot to the game, honestly; it helped me stay occupied throughout the breakup, and still today gives me something to do. What kind of computer do you have? Windows 7/Vista/XP/Other? I have an Acer Nitro with Windows 10. Are you taking any interesting classes in school/do you not attend? I'm no longer in school. If you don't attend, are you taking any "lessons" for anything? No, but I would like to join a photography course somewhere. A book/piece that has had an exceptional impact on your life? Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo just made me hate war more than I innately did. What genres of music are your favorite? Just metal as an umbrella term. Some heavy stuff, some less, some in the middle, some leaning towards other genres... but I just like metal. Do you think that fate plays a part in people's lives? No. Wouldn't "fate" just make it all... worthless? Like we're just storybook characters with a predetermined ending? What are your opinions on the media? One word: manipulative. What's a piece of technology you'd like to own? I REALLY want a PS4, especially lately. There's just a lot of games I REALLY want to play. Are you afraid of technology developing to where we're too reliant on it? We're already *too* reliant on it, which I do believe is a bad thing. I know, absolutely hysterical for me to be talking. What's your favorite odd ice cream flavor? I don't think I've ever had a truly odd ice cream flavor. There's this local place though that makes a kind that tastes JUST like s'mores, and I can fucking murder a cup of that. What's your opinion on stereotypes/labels? They're limiting and devalue uniqueness, imo. I know very, very few people who totally fit a certain stereotype, so why even bother. Like I don't care if you use them as adjectives to some extent, just don't put too much weight on them. Just be you. Do you believe that history repeats itself? It's not necessarily doomed to, but it happens sometimes, obviously. Would you rather learn from your mistakes or just undo them? Depends on the mistake. What was the most interesting class you had in school? Probably Mythology in high school. Do you write? If so, what? Yeah, meerkat role-play. And every now and again, poetry. Do you have a favorite culture? No; I'm not educated on nearly enough to pick one. Do you believe in global warming? Have you researched it? Lol no shit I do. I don't exactly think it takes much research to see with your own two eyes that it's factual. Do you prefer piercings or tattoos? Tattoos, if I had to pick. What comedy movie is your favorite? White Chicks. Have you ever meditated? Yes. Doesn't work for me. What comes to mind when you think of a great moment in your life? Realizing it was my choice to liberate myself and my happiness from my ex. He didn't and never should've carried it, because that's my right. What do you like about springtime? Aaaaall the flowers. <3 How have you handled having to stay in? It's not really different from my average day, so... How would your friends describe you? Quiet and overthinks literally everything. Have you ever hallucinated? When I was coming off a certain med in middle school, I saw black moving shadows. What (or who) is the best thing that ever happened to you? The partial hospitalization program I attended for two months following my suicide attempt. It's where I met my psychiatrist, who set my medication straight. Medicine besides though, I learned so many coping techniques and just how to deconstruct my trauma. As well as possible, anyway. What is the worst decision you ever made? Handing over the ability to make happiness for myself to another person. What is your favorite arcade game? Don't have one. Do you feel neglected? No. What school subject(s) are/were your best? English, Arts, Science. Are you allergic to pollen? Yep. What style of wedding dress do you like best? Probably ballgown. Are you over your first love? I probably never will be in complete totality. Do you always answer your phone? No. I only ever do if I recognize the number. Who was the last person you know to have a birthday? Today is actually my sister's birthday. What song is currently stuck in your head? I have Halocene's cover of "What I've Done" on a loop right now. It has me absolutely covered in goosebumps. Do you ever use coloring books? Not really anymore. Do you personally know anyone who is an author? Not to my knowledge, no. What’s your favorite kind of salsa/dip to go with tortilla chips? Just your normal, mildly hot salsa. Do you wash your car by hand or drive through a car wash? Mom's car hasn't been washed in... well, years, given its bumper. Mom worries that in a car wash, it'll be broken off (it is literally held on with a lot of zip ties and duct tape), and we ourselves don't want to wash it, so... Do you have any uncommon kitchen appliances, such as espresso machines, waffle irons, etc? I know we have one or two, but idk what they're called. What did your parents major/minor in in college, if they went? Dad never went to college. Mom changed her major a few times, but her latest was social work, I believe. Has either of their careers influenced what career you chose or want to pursue? Not at all. What kind of natural disaster is most common where you live? Hurricanes. Why is your least favorite season your least favorite? Because it's hot as fuck and humid. Have you ever had an animal get into your attic? No. When was the last time you started a “new chapter” of your life? I don't know. Hopefully I'll start one soon when I leave PHP and pursue a job... What room in your home do you spend the least amount of time in? I'm always in my room. Do you do anything to reduce the amount of electricity you use? I feel awful admitting I do quite the opposite... Being in the dark during the day affects my depression, so I'll have my lamp (or both) on even if it's just sort of shaded inside. Are you usually open to trying a new food that you aren’t familiar with? Eh, it depends on the food. I'm not very adventurous with foods though. Do you listen to Panic! At The Disco? I do. Have you ever had a kinky dream about a celebrity? ... It wasn't "kinky," but it was a dream lmao. Has anyone ever told you that they loved you, and you couldn’t say it back? That's how I ended the whole Joel childishness. Which friend do you confide in most? My mom. Do you wear a cross? No. What is your favorite doughnut? That's so hard. :( Krispy Kreme's normal glazed though probably takes the cake. I also love chocolate frosted and just totally plain, though. Do you have a hot tub? If so, where is it located? No. Did you read the Twilight series, or jump on the bandwagon after the movie? Neither. Do you or your parents rake your yard? Dad did growing up. Now nobody does or needs to. Who did you last go to the movies with? Dad, I think? What color was the last vehicle you were in? White. Do you have any family members in the military right now? No. Is there a ceiling fan in the room you’re in? Yeah. Have you ever heard voices? No. If you’re not straight, who was the first person you came out to? Sara. Do you remember the first time your first crush ever said hi to you? No. Do you ever go places with wet hair? Yeah, idc. Who is your favorite little girl? My nieces. What do you want the most in life? To feel like I made a difference, even a tiny one. If you could have anyone’s singing voice, whose would you choose? OBVIOUSLY Amy Lee's. What’s the most expensive thing you’ve bought that turned out to be a waste of money? *shrug* What’s something you’ve bought that turned out to be way more useful than you anticipated? Hm. Have you ever been on a ship? No. Would you ever date a disabled person? (Be honest) Yes. Would you rather adopt or have your own child? IF I wanted kids, which I absolutely do not, I'd rather have my own. I know I'd feel a deeper connection. What would you class as cheating on someone? As soon as you do/say something you don't want your s/o to know about, you're cheating. As far as earrings go, would you rather wear hoops or studs? Studs. Do you recycle? Yes. If someone dislikes you, what is most likely to be the reason? People have thought I don't try hard enough before. Do you put a line through your "7"s? Yes. ^ What about your "Z"s? Yes. What are you most known for? My art "skill," at least irl. How do you feel about shameless self-promoting? Depends on when, where, and how. As someone who's trying to be a freelance photographer, I get that it's sadly necessary, but there are some places it's just uncalled for.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''what i've done'' by linkin park

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jaqfms · 4 years

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there's jacques ‘jaq’ daingerfield ! though on their socials they go by @thedangerousq . i heard he is originally from paris , france , but made the big move to los angeles to join TWENTIES . you haven't heard about it ? well , apparently their dream is to design his own video game , but they have no chance unless they quit being so cocky & lazy . that said , those behind the scenes have said they can be witty & charismatic too. guess we'll have to watch and find out ! ━ & laughing until you cry , a cartoon theme song paired with a hip hop beat , a juul behind your ear , vines quoted in a thick french accent . ( timothee chalamet , cis male , he/him ) ( pepper , she/her + they/them , est , twenty four )

ABOUT THE MUN. are ya in a relationship? you think i can convince someone to do that?

hello, it’s me again. i tired myself out with haisley’s so jaq’s if going to be considerably shorter. let’s go.

BIO. aaaahhhhhhhhhh shhiiittttt *begins understanding things*

jacques daingerfield was born in france to two very average parents. like his mother was a teacher and his father was a financial analyst. nothing wild or crazy going on there, and to top it off he was the middle child, and well, you can tell.

he has four siblings. he was the third kid, and well, he spent most of his childhood fighting for any kind of attention, usually by making inappropriate little jokes or you know, fart noises. yes his parents were generally exasperated with him, but that behavior made sure they paid attention to him. and honestly that was all jacques wanted.

again, jacques had a pretty average upbringing. he went to school, he was actually pretty popular among his peers despite being so annoying (definitely very unpopular amongst his teachers for generally that class clown that sat in the back and always interrupted), and he excelled academically without really trying too much. well, in every subject but english funnily enough. jaq always struggled in english, which is why it was incredibly ironic that when his parents separated they decided to move to uk with his father. jacques was ten at the time, and he still doesn’t understand the decision.

so yes, jacques was the kid in class with the weird name and weirder accent who could barely communicate with his classmates. it didn’t take long for them to stop really trying to pronounce ‘jacques’ properly. jacques became jack without much input on his part, and by the time jacques had got enough of a handle on the english language to correct them the americanized name had already stuck. even at nine jacques was smart enough to know that insisting on the correct french pronunciation of his name just kind of made him sound like a pretentious french asshole, so instead he spun it. he embraced it. started signing all of his papers and assignments with ‘jaq’ with a q like it was his brand or something. even as a child jaq will give himself credit for being clever af.

it actually worked pretty well honestly. the older jaq got the more he grew into himself, and the more comfortable he got with the english language. honestly a lot of how jaq learned english was through video games and youtube videos and cartoons, like those were some of his go to resources. spent a lot of time playing games with strangers and tested his english out with colourful trash talk. actually started his first ever youtube channel was basically that as just a way to practice his english a bit. all he did on there was play video games, and honesty he didn’t even show his face. the channel wasn’t that popular, but he had fun making it.

jaq on the other hand had gained popularity by the time he was in middle school. granted, that popularity was mostly due to the fact that he had a popular older brother and sister, was french and therefore ‘cute’ (jaq didn’t pretend to understand how girls brains worked then, and he still doesn’t now) and his family always had the newest gaming system at their household, and even then it wasn’t wild popularity. but it was enough that barely anyone teased him for his thick french accent anymore, and yk what jaq would take it. he weirdly got even more popular with the guys in his grade when they found out about his youtube channel. they found it funny, and they would generally watch his videos and come tell him about their favourite parts later, ask him about how he got past a certain level or learned a certain cheat. jaq soaked up their admiration like a sponge, right into his ego. they were the beginning of jaq getting the big head he proudly sports today.

that said for most second form jaq’s youtube channel was just a hobby. something he did for fun. like i said earlier, jaq actually did really well in school and his parents always expected him to follow in his father’s footsteps and go into something in business. after all, it would be an easy transition with both french and english under his belt. they knew he would excel.

but then he met madi. and somehow the two started doing videos together for fun, and it quickly expanded into something a lot bigger. something that jaq wouldn’t have even dreamed of doing before. suddenly the picture perfect future he had planned for himself just seemed boring in comparison to what he and madi had going on, and so jaq easily picked that instead. his parents weren’t all that happy about it, of course, after all jaq had full scholarships to some schools just waiting for him to accept and he ignored all of them in favour of making videos of him playing games online. they still don’t understand, but jaq doesn’t really need them too. he’s happy with what he’s doing and he figures he can always go into business when he’s old and boring.

he moved out of his parents house straight into an apartment with madi when things between them started getting really tough. they can’t really speak without the whole ‘we’re so disappointed in you’ conversation coming up so jaq doesn’t really speak to them unless he has to. both of his older siblings went into business like their parents wanted, and his younger siblings are on the same path. his little sister wants to be just like him though, and that warms his heart tbh.

has come to TWENTIES to have a good time! wants to break into the acting industry like dylan o’brien and maybe show his parents that a ‘real’ career can come from something like this. his parents begged him not to come on this show and embarrass them so that is definitely what he’s about to do.

HEADCANNONS. there are a lot of people who need to shut up. not me though

thinks he’s funny! sometimes he is

will answer to jacques, jaq, jaqi, or q! you can call him daingerfield if you want but not many people do

fun fact, made his instagram handle as a joke, much like awkwafina. was just supposed to a little dig about how many times he has to say ‘jack with a q’ whenever someone spells his name. but now the dangerous q is his brand, and just finds it really dumb and funny.

a bit of a kleptomaniac. will swipe something he thinks is cool mostly just to do it. has very little impulse control. loves to pull pranks and generally make trouble, but not in a way that will ever actually hurt anybody because he’s not a whole idiot. not the biggest fan of cops.

is an artist. will spray paint your walls and probably has spray painted the walls of his apartment. will doodle weird things all over napkins or receipts or whatever he can get his hands on. has drawn out little video game characters he wants to be in his future games, and actually is considering going to school for a video game programming degree just for that. the funny thing is with his grades he could probably do it. is teaching himself coding in the mean time.

the type of person to start drumming on the counter or desk with his hands or like pencils or pens when he’s bored. will make up fun little raps on the spot.

incredibly intelligent but doesn’t like to talk about it. would much rather act dumb than act like he has any braincells. he doesn’t want to give anyone expectations.

all the youtube success has definitely gone to his head in the way that?? he just thinks they’re untouchable like he cannot compute the concept of their channel failing or their future endeavors failing. definitely thinks that TWENTIES will lead to much bigger things for them. will walk into his future acting auditions like he’s the shit.

an introvert with extrovert tendencies. needs to be by himself to chill out and recharge but can like work a room honestly. can make friends pretty much everywhere he goes. a bit of a charmer when he wants to be.

a smoker unfortunately. also a bit of a stoner. definitely has a juul on him at all times, like i said he tends to keep it behind his ear and then be like ???? where’s my juul.

needs glasses but refuses to wear them. is very stubborn about it tbh. does not want to get contacts because he hates the idea of putting something into his eye. so you can catch him squinting sometimes like a fool.

one of the first things he treated himself to with his first big youtube check like outside of rent was a tattoo! it’s on his ribs and it’s just a drawing he did himself but he loves it and it was the start of an addiction. he has about five. also has a few helix and orbital piercings on his left ear.

another muse of mine with a tiktok, but jaq just uses his to make music for the most part. will turn the mickey mouse club house theme song into bars! (if you’ve seen that tiktok,,,, ily)

a big nerd. reads comic books. watches anime. will get very reasonably upset about the avatar the last airbender movie whenever it’s brought up.

can cook really well, but whenever he does it it’s pure chaos. like julian/brad leone in the kitchen for sure. but the food comes out tasting really good, so???

is jewish af. knows a bit of hebrew and a bit of yiddish because of his grandparents mostly. is kind of ??? a lot more lenient with things now that he’s not around his parents as often i’m ngl.

brings his ds everywhere and you can literally catch him on the bus vaping and playing animal crossing because he hasn’t bothered to get a american license yet

is always willing to take a picture with a subscribers and they’re always the weirdest thing. there are pictures of subscribers like pretending to stab him in the eye. prom pose pictures with subscribers. the weirder the better tbh

has gone to vidcon a few years in a row, always has the wildest time. there is video footage of him waking up in some strangers bathtub with a feather boa around his neck. it’s probably on instagram.

is also bi af.

WANTED CONNECTIONS. very proud to announce that i am officially a lost cause!

BEST FRIENDS.

A BROMANCE.

FWB/EWB.

EXES.

FANS OF HIS YOUTUBE VIDEOS.

and here’s his wanted tag, i forgot to do the same for haisley so here is her wanted tag.

and many more, y’all this took so long and i’m so tired but like this and i will slide into your dms for plots!

#twenties:intro #i have completely exhausted myself omg #rip #( intro. )#any typos in this can stay idec anymore

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theliterarywolf · 5 years

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So, Let’s Talk ‘Love Death and Robots’ (Episodes 1-9)

Netflix's newest foray into the world of adult-oriented animation Love Death and Robots is one more nail in the coffin of the notion that any adult cartoon has to suck off the teat of Family Guy or South Park.

The spiritual successor to the 80s sci-fi animation anthology Heavy Metal (in more ways than one, since LDaR was originally supposed to be a Heavy Metal reboot but lack of funding and copyright hell got in the way), Love Death and Robots gives us 18 different short stories brought to the screen in the medium of animation that range in all emotions from shock, horror, disgust, sympathy, hope, and, yes, even sadness.

Just like I did with Season 4 of Black Mirror, I am going to give my personal thoughts on each segment for those who want to know what they're getting into. However, since each of the stories in Love Death and Robots only range between 8 and 17 minutes, I will not go into spoilers.

Also, to do things a bit differently, I will also add in the ratings of 'Did it Have a Robot – Yes? Or No?', to reveal if the sci-fi elements in a story were prominent or if it was more fantasy-oriented, and 'Could this Stand Its Own as a Feature Film/TV Series?' to reveal, well, just that.

Tl:Dr – I personally found Love Death and Robots to be a very-much welcome breath of fresh air to both the fields of adult animation and anthology shows. I forget what medium/site posted it but there's the sentiment of Love Death and Robots being what Black Mirror has been striving to be for its past two seasons.

And, yes, that comment is pretty damn appropriate. Love Death and Robots elegantly combines the darkness and unease of the technological unknown of the scientific condition with looks at the human condition as well as snarky dark humor. If you can stand blood, gore, and the occasional female-presenting nipple, you should definitely give it a watch.

And now, for the actual thoughts on each story individually. Remember, no spoilers.

Episode 1 - Sonnie's Edge

Be still, my Teratophile heart. Love Death and Robots' first entry hits the ground running, slashing, and biting with a strong female character and the dismal underground world that she’s successfully made her bitch. The first half of this short grabs you and doesn't let go until the second half starts and, admittedly, slows things down. Breathtaking for sure, Sonnie's Edge isn't my personal favorite of the anthology, but I can definitely see where a good chunk of the money went for LDaR.

… I also see this story getting the same treatment by tumblr that this website did to the San Junipiero episode of Black Mirror.

Did it Have a Robot – Yes? Or No?

Bio-Mechanical Engineering of minor-kaiju type monsters. Also, the mental link software used for fighters to connect with said creations.

Could this Stand Its Own as a Feature Film/TV Series?

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes to a TV series of Sonnie's Edge. Unlike some of the other stories in LDaR, the nuances and universe set up by the brief glance we got would work wonders if worked into a 12 episode show.

Episode 2 – Three Robots

In the biggest full-frontal flip of tone, Three Robots yanks us out of the grimy Cyberpunk future of Episode 1, to a comedic look at a post-apocalyptic one with our titular three robots taking a sight-seeing tour through a long-decimated city. Discussions are had about human nature from a neutral, but still comical, outside point of view and that's all I will say because, going any further will bring in spoilers.

Did it Have a Robot – Yes? Or No?

Three of them, in fact, each representing a different aspect of robotics: one sleek and cold-looking, one humanoid with a neutral face, and the human-friendly models.

Could this Stand Its Own as a Feature Film/TV Series?

Honestly... No. The story, as well as its ending serve their purpose best at the length and scope it has in its run-time.

Episode 3 – The Witness

'Yeah, but –'

No.

'If you just –'

No.

'It really is one of the best on--'

NAH, G, THIS AIN'T IT!

There needs to be a phrase: 'Cool Universe; Shit Story, Brah' to slap onto pieces of media that have a great aesthetic and a great universe on display... But just an awful story.

Because The Witness fits that phrase to a tee. If anything, the only aspect that The Witness has going for it is the stark color scheme against the dismal urban landscape and the sex.

Lots. And. Lots of boob-shots and bush-shots in this one, folks.

Did it Have a Robot – Yes? Or No?

Did it? I don't even know what kind of technology was displayed in this episode. Apartment-based leather sex-clubs?

Could this Stand Its Own as a Feature Film/TV Series?

This would probably have been much better if it had an hour or so to build up the characters and the twist rather than flashing everything at a breakneck pace and forcing us to sit through a drag of a story.

Episode 4 – Suits

(No gif for this one; tumblr, you guys are slacking)

Best. In. Fucking. Show.

This one is definitely one of my top two favorites for the entire series. Everything is there: character, universe, writing, it's all great. Especially since, considering that it follows the 'Last Stand' trope and it would have been extremely easy for the writers to go 100% grim and miserable.

No, that... * sigh * that comes later.

You like farmers? You like mechas? You like farmers in mechas fighting aliens? You will now!

Did it Have a Robot – Yes? Or No?

Yes, several of them!

Could this Stand Its Own as a Feature Film/TV Series?

If we ever got to a point where Pixar made films for adult audiences, a feature-length look at the universe of Suits would be the vein they would need to hit.

Just maybe with a less noticeable frame-rate 'style'.

I'd also like to add this: a lot of people these days seem to have the issue with sci-fi and fantasy-oriented media because they feel as though they only cater to kids/teens (either the characters will be 'young adults fighting “teh systemzz” or high school bullshit). That and the worlds depicted don't draw anyone in due to how... unrelatable they are.

The fact that the characters in Suits are your typical hard-working, middle-aged farmers just trying to live their lives... while still having to fight carnivorous aliens in mecha-suits re-purposed from farming equipment really makes the short seem that much more human.

Episode 5 – Sucker of Souls

(No gif, again...)

Oh boy! The Castlevania Cinematic Universe looks great!

Seriously, this was the first moment during my viewing of LDaR were I was left wondering 'I thought... this was a sci-fi anthology..?'

That being said, though, I'm always a sucker for unique hand-drawn animation and the abrasiveness of the characters flow nicely together. Even though you can pretty much tell, at the five minute mark, that things may not end up too well, it's a fun ride in the same vein as the Brendan Fraser Mummy films.

Did it Have a Robot – Yes? Or No?

Well, you see, the thing is, I – No.

Could this Stand Its Own as a Feature Film/TV Series?

It probably could be a good Adult Swim animated series (in the same vein as The Venture Bros). But, other than that, it stands fine on its own.

Episode 6 – When the Yogurt Took Over

(Gif not from the show but still appropriate)

This... Seems to be the dividing point for a lot of people in regards to LDaR. You have a lot of people saying 'Oh, this one was dumb; it didn't make sense' or 'the animation was too cute to be so gruesome'.

Everyone is entitled to their own opinions. However, a lot of the people complaining that it was dumb or didn't make sense probably didn't grow up with the same dark comedy/gallows humor that many of us did/have sought out. Things like Little Shop of Horrors, Dr. Strangelove, Sayonara Zetsubou-sensei, Dead Like Me, Metalocalypse, Black Dynamite (the animated series), and others that I can't find right now because Google keeps trying to recommend me to Family Guy of all things when I type in my searches.

The story here is short, poignant, and pretty close to home despite the title giving you what you're getting on the tin.

Did it Have a Robot – Yes? Or No?

Not really a robot... But the scientists in the story were working with genetic engineering. So, there you go.

Could this Stand Its Own as a Feature Film/TV Series?

Mm... No. This is another 'watch it as is and get the best effect' story.

One more thing, though: The Narrator of this story is none other than Maurice LaMarche.

Mother-fucking BRAIN from Pinky and the Brain!

Episode 7 – Beyond the Aquila Rift

It is... so hard to do Cosmic Horror correctly in recent times. The notion of creating tales that show just how small we are in the grand-scheme of the sleeping nightmare behemoths who keep the universe running in the space between their frantic thoughts... Is overwhelming to a lot of people. So a lot of first-time attempts at it ultimately fail.

This story, Beyond the Aquila Rift, is one of my favorite entries to LDaR. Right up there with Suits.

And I will leave it at that.

Did it Have a Robot – Yes? Or No?

Space-travel, hibernation gel/tubes, space-stations.

Could this Stand Its Own as a Feature Film/TV Series?

And even that is a hard maybe because while you could build up the characters and their relationships a bit more, the resolution of this story works fine either way.

Episode 8 – Good Hunting

Is... Issat – Is that GOOD Steampunk in front of me? Oh Lord, it's been years! More hand-drawn animation for this one but the way it melds not only technology, magic, imperialism, and friendship but still incorporates the message that technology and progress can be used for great good and great evil... It depends on the morality of those wielding/pushing for it... Is really a high point in both writing and execution.

The animation, especially whenever the technological aspect comes in, really shines.

… You know, in hindsight, that last line could be seen in bad taste.

Did it Have a Robot – Yes? Or No?

The whole set-up is British Imperialist forces bringing Steampunk and subjugation to China. So, yeah, a lot of copper and a lot of steam in here.

Could this Stand Its Own as a Feature Film/TV Series?

I know I've been shoving everything into 'could shine as a film on its own' category, but Good Hunting really is the type of story I would love to see expanded out and directed by someone like the late Satoshi Kon (Paranoia Agent, Paprika, Millennium Actress).

Episode 9 – The Dump

(Honestly, I’m not even sad that I can’t find a gif for this one)

This one... Ah... This one.

I ... Hm.

Y-you want to see old, dangly redneck penis? Y-you see old, dangly redneck penis for a good few seconds in this one.

But, yeah, this one is definitely... a story. Your typical 'stuffy white-guy pencil-pusher comes to scare old, grungy countryman off of his land/old, grungy countryman decides to tell stuffy white-guy pencil-pusher the story of why he's on said land...

And to go any further would be spoilers.

It's not bad, it's just... Interesting.

Did it Have a Robot – Yes? Or No?

Well, it depends. Do you see pollution as more an aspect of sci-fi or an aspect of socioeconomic discussion?

Could this Stand Its Own as a Feature Film/TV Series?

I don't think anyone would want to see more of this story in either form, truth be told. It exists fine on its own.

And that's Part 1 of my little write-up on Love Death and Robots. This got a little long so I'll be posting Part 2 tomorrow and linking it HERE when I do! Seriously, if you can you should definitely watch the series and support some good adult animation so Netflix will push for more stuff like LDaR, Bojack Horseman, Aggretsuko, and The Kirlian Frequency... And less stuff like that damn 'Brickleberry But They're COOOPS This Time~!!'

#Wolf Watches #love death and robots

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azaraspirit · 5 years

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Just a Guy Named Tom l T.H. x reader fic preview

its probably a little soon to share this since i just finished writing this but i am SO EXCITED about this fic that i couldnt wait and had to share a preview of it to get you guys as excited as me.

summery: Tom was an ordinary guy and had an ordinary life. That is until his best friend Harrison started working for a Crime Lord in London. Tom tried to talk him out of it but it didn’t work and so he stole from Haz’s boss which was a deadly decision. Tom has been running ever since till the reader comes long and finally starts living, in danger or not.

tagging some folks: @lovelyspidey @spiderboytotherescue @i-couldnt-leave-my-best-girl @fanboy-tom @underoos-tom

Warnings: language, death threats.

Notes: its not gonna be pretty and a shit ton of angst with a dash of fluff and smut. so a little bit of everything HAH. enjoy. PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK!!!

PREVIEW. (part of chapter one).

Sometimes you meet just the right person at the right moment. You have been cheated on by your bf with your enemy who bullied you from middle and high school. He could have cheated normally with some random chick or even a friend but no. He chose your bully that made you feel a hundred time worse. Which is why you found yourself crying into your margarita at a bar.

“You alright miss?” a soft but unfamiliar voice spoke.

You managed to look over to see who it was. A handsome young man sat a seat away from you at the bar, looking rather concerned.

“Just peachy.” you murmured, taking a sip of your drink.

“I don’t mean to be rude. Just an odd sight seeing a woman crying in a bar in the middle of the afternoon.

You scoffed. “Trust me. I didn’t plan this. Just that…” You faltered. What did it matter? Why should you bother a complete-attractive-but handsome stranger-with your problems?

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want. Besides we don’t even know each other.”

You sighed, staring into your drink. Yeah he was a stranger but there was something inviting about him. Maybe it was tousled brown hair or British accent. You had no idea but still you had a lot on your mind.

“My boyfriend cheated on me.” you confessed.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. Guy must have been a real dick-and not the good kind.”

You laughed. Actually laughed.

“Yeah he was. Too bad I didn’t see it sooner.”

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking?”

A sigh flowed passed your lips. “I told him all about my enemy from high school and middle school. Guess he found her attractive and slept with her. A lot.”

The handsome British man scoffed. “Wait hold up. The guy cheated on you. With your bully?”

“Yup.” The word smacked off your lips.

“Where is he? I need to beat the crap out of him.”

You chuckled. This guy was something else. “He’s not worth your time. I just pray that they both get an STD.”

This time the guy laughed and wow what a beautiful sound it was to hear. He laughed hard enough to where he dipped his head back and hold his stomach.

“Amen to that.” he grinned.

A moment of silence fell between you and the British boy. He smiled ever so softly st you, making your heart flutter and lift you off the ground like a cartoon character.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asked.

You smiled, big and wide. “After you tell me your name.”

“Tom. Just a guy a named Tom.”

“I’m Y/N.”

“That’s a pretty name if I do say so myself.” Tom paid the bartender, including your drink and a tip who was more than grateful-he even gave Tom a hand shake. “No problem mate.” Tom replied, smiling.

“Where you wanna go?” he asked as you both leave the bar.

You were silently debating whether or not to have a post break up make out sesh or keep it platonic. His voice alone turned you on. Normally this wasn’t your way of meeting but you felt like you needed to treat yourself after the break up whether it was sexual or strictly emotional support.

“Sounds crazy because we just met but I could use a vacation.” you decided.

Tom faced you so he was walking backwards, smiling. “I could be a killer ya know?”

You laughed. “I don’t think you are.”

“Oh, really?”

You nodded. “You have a good heart, Tom. I can tell. You already brought me out of the foggy state I was in when you first asked if I was okay. And I was certain when you first made me laugh.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Alright Y/N. Any ideas?”

“You have a British accent, correct?”

He smirked. “Yeah?”

“Why don’t we go to London?”

“You sure about that, darlin’?” he teased with a wink. You swore your heart skipped a beat just then. Was it possible to fall for someone this quickly?

“Never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Okay this was crazy. Absolutely crazy. But you had no one or anything to keep you here and believe it or not Tom was what you needed.

A smile never left your face as you and Tom sat next to each other on the plane. You were above the clouds on the way to London with a man you just met. But what is life without adventure?

You caught Tom admiring you, making you both blush and giggle. He hesitated before gently taking your hand making your skin tingle. You wrapped your fingers around his.

“This is crazy.” he murmured, stroking your hand with his thumb.

“No it’s an adventure.”

He chuckled. “A crazy adventure.”

“Touche.”

You didn’t even know his last name but you trusted Tom with your life. You never felt this way about anyone not even your ex. It was like as if fate drawn you together. You would go to ends of the earth for him. “Get some rest, love.” he whispered. “We still have a long way to go.”

As if he was on cue, your eyelids feel heavy. You adjusted to be more comfortable, resting your head on his shoulder.

Tom waited till he was sure you were asleep. You snored lightly making him smile. You were a mere stranger but you already felt like home. It probably wasn’t a good idea to get so attached but it was too late. He wasn’t going to leave you now. If it goes as bad as he think he will, he was ready to go down fighting in order to protect you. It may have been a bad idea to steal from a crime lord and an even worse to go back home but it felt right. London was home, in danger or not.

Tom’s phone dinged with a text. It read:

H: YOU’RE DEAD.

Tom smirked and texted back:

Why so hostile? London is big enough for the both of us.

H: YOU KNOW WHY.

Tom laughed to himself

T: what happened bro we used to be friends.

H: you screwed me so I screw you. what’s the saying? Karma’s a bitch.

T: you need let go. holding a grudge is bad for your health.

H: dont be a smartass. Im gonna kill you one way or another.

T: good luck.

H: friends dont steal from their boss. Prepare to taste bullets.

T: its a date.

H: fuck you.

The texts stopped. He was tired of Harrison’s bullshit. So what if he stole from his boss who happened to be a crime lord? Doesn’t mean he has to be so dramatic. Tom looked down at you, still asleep. He gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I won’t let him hurt you, I promise.” Tom and Haz used to be friends but not anymore. Sure Tom should be scared and hiding but he knew he would be found eventually so why not enjoy the time he had before it ended in blood? He wasn’t gonna let Haz ruin his life.

#azaras-spirit #my fics #I LOVE THIS SO MUCH OMG #IM SO EXCITED #tom holland x reader #Tom Holland x you #tom fics

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upontheshelfreviews · 5 years

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Merry Christmas everyone! To conclude this month of merrymaking we’re looking at an animated Christmas cult classic that I have a bit of a soft spot for. But perhaps it’s best to start at the beginning:

ETA Hoffman’s “The Nutcracker and the Mouse King” is one of my favorite fantasy stories, though chances are you’re more familiar with the famous ballet by Tchaikovsky that it inspired. The music is gorgeous and instantly recognizable, but few know the actual story of The Nutcracker beyond what your average community production rolls out every December. Much of the plot plays out like a variation of Beauty and the Beast with a protagonist akin to The Wizard of Oz’s Dorothy and story elements that wouldn’t feel out of place in a Grimms’ fairytale. Sadly, most of those details were lost in the translation from book to light holiday entertainment. Not that I’m complaining, I love the ballet, but there’s so much more to its origins that people aren’t usually interested in delving into.

I say all this because today’s movie, The Nutcracker Prince, is one of the very few filmic adaptations that pays faithful tribute to both its source material and its theatrical counterpart. In spite of – or perhaps because of – the popularity of the ballet, there’s been only a handful of film versions of Hoffman’s The Nutcracker (or at least a handful compared to something like A Christmas Carol). How good you find each of them to be depends upon your taste and the production value. I’ve found remarkably little about the making of this particular adaption, but that probably has to do with the fact that it was barely a blip on the box office radar. Released through Warner Brothers (which itself would issue another Nutcracker movie starring Maculay Culkin six years later), this was the only full-length animated feature created by Canada’s Lacewood Productions. A shame, really, because looking at The Nutcracker Prince you can see the studio’s potential. But thanks to the home video circuit, the movie has found a new life as a nostalgic Christmas classic for 90’s kids like myself. Let’s unwrap the reasons why, shall we?

If there’s one thing I appreciate about The Nutcracker Prince, it’s how it plays around with the music order to emphasize a scene’s mood rather than slavishly follow the original score. Instead of the recognizable jovial overture piping over the main titles, we have the Snowflake Waltz from the finale of Act 1, building an aura of mystery and magic to lure us into the story. A series of cross-hatched stills introduce us to our cast and characters, and I tell you, when you recognize these names you will not be able to look at this movie the same way. If I told someone that Anne of Green Gables, Jack Bauer, Lawrence of Arabia, Jimmy Neutron’s grandma and several prominent cast members from Canada’s Saturday morning fixture The Raccoons shared the screen together once, they’d think I was crazy, but as you’ll see it’s the honest to Zeus truth.

Our story begins proper with Clara Stahlbaum (Meagan Follows) and her younger brother Fritz delivering last-minute gifts to their neighbors on Christmas Eve. They race through the icy streets of Germany until they reach the shop of eccentric family friend Uncle Drosselmeier (Peter Boretski), a clockmaker and expert craftsman of mechanical toys. Drosselmeier greets the children and they invite him to come light up the Christmas tree with the family, but he enigmatically tells them he has to prepare for his nephew. This comes as news to Clara and Fritz, since they’ve known Drosselmeier for their whole lives and have never heard him mention a nephew before. Drosselmeier sends them on their way promising he’ll be at the Stahlbaum’s party that evening. Once they’re gone, he hints that there may be something magical in the air this Christmas…

“Blasted pixie dust everywhere! Once the holidays are done I’ve got to get the place fumigated!”

On their way home Clara and Fritz debate what Uncle Drosselmeier’s big annual present he makes for the family will be this time. Fritz, the little future warlord that he is, wishes for a working fort with a mechanical army, while Clara dreams of an enchanted garden where swans in golden necklaces glide across the water. This conversation is a little holdover from the Hoffman story that I like. One of the most difficult challenges every writer faces is writing natural sounding dialogue for children; while Hoffman’s dialogue is a bit stilted by the conventions of the era, the meaning still comes through. Fritz laughs at Clara’s fantasy but because he finds the idea of swans wearing jewelry more ludicrous than a magic garden, which is how an ebullient boy like him would think.

Back at the Stahlbaums, preparations for the Christmas party are underway. The parents give their children their presents: older sister Louise (who’s often excised from other adaptations) receives a pretty new dress, Fritz a hobby horse and toy soldier gear, and Clara a pair of ballet slippers and a new doll she christens Marie. I have to wonder if this is some kind weird in-joke since in the story, the main character is called Marie and the doll she receives is the one who’s named Clara. What happened during the process of making this movie that resulted in their names being switched? Clara is thrilled since these slippers bring her one step closer to her dreams of joining the royal ballet, but feels a touch bemused when she overhears her mother getting choked up at the notion that this may be Clara’s last doll.

The party arrives, including Louise’s boyfriend Eric. Clara and Fritz tease the lovebirds (though to be frank, anyone who wears a powdered wig twelve years out of fashion to something that isn’t a costume party deserves to be ridiculed) but something about their shared intimacy stirs something within Clara. This on top of the adult party guests commenting on how fast she is growing marks her entrance into that state of melancholy and confusion that comes from standing between childhood and adulthood and not knowing where you belong. Clara’s age is never mentioned though I suspect she’s roughly twelve or thirteen, right on the cusp of adolescence and about the time where that mindset begins to sink in. She still plays with dolls and treats them like they were alive, but imagines a future as an adult. There’s a growing sadness over the impending decision between the two that she subconsciously acknowledges through her playing with Marie. This theme isn’t present in the Hoffman story (Marie is a confirmed seven year old in the prime of juvenescence) but it’s been incorporated into the Maurice Sendak retelling a couple of years prior to The Nutcracker Prince and I like its inclusion here as well.

“I wonder if this is anything like what my pen pal Wendy went through with that Peter boy…nah, you’re overthinking it, Clara.”

But there’s no time for her to ponder the implications as a crack of thunder, gust of wind and explosion of fireworks marks the arrival of the final party guest – Drosselmeier. He comes bearing his greatest creation, an enchanting music box castle complete with marching soldiers, seven swans a-swimming, and figures dancing inside the ballroom. In another humorous scene from the original story, Clara and Fritz fawn over the castle while frustrating Drosselmeier with their requests to make the automated figures do more, leading him to go on a brief “kids today don’t appreciate shit” rant.

As the party guests waltz to the strains of more Tchaikovsky, Clara wanders by the tree and spies a present she hadn’t noticed before – a nutcracker in the shape of a soldier. He’s not the most handsome toy in the box, but there’s something charming about him that she is drawn to. Drosselmeier confesses that he’s just part of his gift for the family and demonstrates how he works. On seeing the Nutcracker, Fritz wrestles him out of Clara’s arms and insists he has a go. But because there are no nuts left, he tries one of his toy cannonballs and breaks its jaw. Drosselmeier cheers Clara up by telling a story of how the Nutcracker came to look as he does. And this is where things get…weird.

Now I don’t mind the inclusion of the story-within-a-story. I’m happy they go into how the Nutcracker was cursed unlike most other versions, and there’s some good gags thrown in that make me chuckle. It’s how they go about it that I take some issue with. First, look at the movie’s style looked so far.

The character designs are clearly inspired by Disney – big eyes, soft rounder faces, realistic body proportions for the main characters, only slightly exaggerated for the lesser ones. The backgrounds are warmly lit and richly detailed, like an early work by Thomas Kincade. Overall it feels like something out of a classic storybook.

Now here’s some screencaps from Drosselmeier’s story.

“All right, who changed the channel to Cartoon Network?”

The scene doesn’t even look like it’s from the same movie. It goes from feature film quality to a Saturday morning cartoon, and that’s not entirely coincidental. Lacewood Productions grew out of Hinton Animation Studios which primarily made, you guessed it, cartoons for tv. And Hinton Animation itself had its roots in Atkinson Film-Arts, the studio that produced The Raccoons, hence why some of the cast makes appearances. But because I couldn’t find anything on the making of The Nutcracker Prince, we’ll never know if they went this route because the budget ran out, or the animators didn’t feel comfortable drawing the entire movie in the Disney house style and worked out some kind of compromise, or they just wanted the reveal of the Nutcracker’s human form at the end to be an even bigger surprise. Given some time and creativity they might have been able to come up with something better. You could argue this is how Clara envisions the story playing out in her head, but I don’t think a child from the 1800’s would imagine a fairy tale in the style of Danny Antonucci. In fact, if you played music from Ed Edd and Eddy over this part it wouldn’t feel out of place. Everything is played up for nothing but laughs, not even the Nutcracker’s transformation into a lifeless object, which should be an emotional gut punch. And I’d be ok with all this if it was a short sequence, but it lasts fifteen minutes. That might not seem like long, but since this movie is only seventy-five minutes that means it takes up a good portion of its first half. Plus the cuts back and forth between the story to it being told reminds you of how jarring the whole sequence is compared to the rest of the film.

But on to the story itself. Drosselmeier’s tale takes place in a faraway kingdom belonging to a King who I can only describe Yosemite Sam in his golden years right down to the ornery western accent (it wasn’t until doing my research that I discovered he’s voiced by the Texan monster from the Beetlejuice cartoon which certainly explains it), an extreme doormat Queen, and their daughter, the “beautiful” but very spoiled and unfortunately named Princess Pirlipat. They have in their employ a world-famous clock maker and magician coincidentally also named Drosselmeier and his apprentice, his shy nephew Hans (Kiefer Sutherland).

“Patience, friends. The joke you’re all expecting is coming.”

The occasion on which this flashback takes place is the King’s birthday, and the Queen has put in an order for a cake made out of his favorite food, blue cheese (would that make it a blue cheesecake?) This has the unwanted side effect of drawing out every mouse in the palace. Led by the Mouse Queen (legendary comedienne Phyllis Diller) and her dimwitted son (Mike MacDonald), they pounce upon the cake just as the Queen is putting on the finishing touches.

With no time left to make a new cake, the Queen is forced to send it out to the King and his party guests. This disaster is almost salvaged by a sycophantic Emperor’s New Clothes-style response to the dessert, but Pirlipat ruins everything by whining how she refuses to eat that repulsive offal. The King promotes Drosselmeier to the post of Royal Exterminator and soon all the mice are caught – except the Mouse Queen and her son. She takes her revenge out on Pirlipat; using her dark magic she curses the princess with extreme ugliness, cementing it with a bite to the foot.

Oh please, that’s just Kellyanne Conway before her makeup.

Eager to blame somebody for Pirlipat’s state, the King is ready to execute Drosselmeier until the Queen suddenly intervenes and begs him to consider giving the clockmaker some time to reverse the curse. It was at this moment I realized the King and Queen here are like if the monarchs from Alice in Wonderland had their personalities switched. They even have the same body types as their Disney counterparts.

The King reluctantly acquiesces, but gives Drosselmeier and Hans no more than…well…did I already mention Kiefer Sutherland is in this movie?

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“Your obligatory reference humor, all wrapped up in one neat package. Merry Christmas!”

So Hans and Drosselmeier study the princess to figure out a way to break the spell, not helped by Pirlipat’s constant ear-bleedingly grating crying. Her only comfort is Hans feeding her nuts he cracks for her himself. Inspired, Drosselmeier researches well into the night and discovers the cure for Pirlipat’s condition – the Krakatooth Nut, the hardest nut in the world. It can only be cracked open by a young man who’s never shaved or worn boots and they must take exactly seven steps to and from the person they’re feeding the nut to with their eyes shut and without stumbling, which even by fairy tale logic is some damn arbitrary rules.

The King invites noblemen from around the world to crack the Krakatooth with the promise of marrying Pirlipat and becoming heir to the kingdom if they succeed, though he has them and the rest of the court blindfolded so they won’t be scared off by her hideousness. Unfortunately each man who makes an attempt winds up with a mouth full of broken teeth. The Mouse Queen, confident in her evil plan, watches the misery play out with delight. Hans, however, decides to give it a try, and to Drosselmeier, the royal family, and the Mouse Queen and Prince’s surprise, he succeeds. Pirlipat is transformed back into her normal, terrible old self, however the court is too busy fawning over their restored icon to notice what happens next.

Enraged over being foiled, the Mouse Queen casts a curse on Hans to make him “the prince of the dolls”. Before he can take his final step backward, she bites his foot and he is transformed into a wide-smiling nutcracker. In his new form he accidentally knocks over a line of busts domino-style, the last of which the Mouse Queen is too late to escape from. I love it when villains are hit by instant karma. Alas, Pirlipat takes one look at Hans and refuses to marry a doll that’s not even half as ugly as she was moments ago.

Yep. Totally unmarriageable material.

On seeing his prospective son-in law for himself, the King accuses Drosselmeier of trying to trick his daughter into marrying one of his contraptions. He has the poor guy who’s shown nothing but years of loyalty and service to his outlandish demands banished forthwith while he and his wife and daughter celebrate their own selfish victory. I always hated how they never earned some kind of punishment for their behavior, but considering the boundary-shifting turmoil Europe endured before, during and after this tale was written, it’s more than likely these foolish monarchs will get what’s coming to them in the worst possible way down the line.

Enjoy your power while you can, assholes. Come the Napoleonic wars, you’re all royally screwed.

As for the Mouse Prince, he mourns his mother for all of ten seconds before realizing her death makes him the new Mouse King. He declares to Drosselmeier that he’ll have his revenge on the Nutcracker – not for killing mommie dearest but for smashing the end of his tail when the busts fell and making it go crooked.

With the story done, we abruptly return to the party and Clara expressing her disappointment in Hans’ unfair fate. Drosselmeier assures her that while Hans may be stuck as a Nutcracker, he’s still the rightful ruler of the magical kingdom of the dolls and the spell over him can be broken, but only if he defeats the Mouse King and wins the hand of a fair maiden. I love Clara’s reaction to this; she rolls her eyes and wonders why all fairy tales have the same solution.

Long after the party has ended and the Stahlbaums are fast asleep, a restless Clara sneaks downstairs with her kitty Pavlova to check on her Nutcracker. She introduces him to his new subjects, her toys – Marie, her old matronly doll Trudy, and Pantaloon, the ancient captain of Fritz’s toy soldiers. Taken by a music box’s melody, Clara shares a romantic song and dance with the Nutcracker to the tune of the Waltz of the Flowers, not unlike the one Louise and Eric had earlier.

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And for those of you watching, yes, Clara is clearly rotoscoped when she’s dancing. I’m not against rotoscoping as long as animators don’t rely too heavily on it (COUGHBAKSHICOUGH), though the use of it here as well as in one other scene emphasizes how uneven the rest of the film’s animation is under scrutiny. I do wish there was a full version of this song somewhere though because it’s quite pretty.

The music comes to a sudden halt as Pavlova breaks an ornament. Clara quickly stashes the Nutcracker our of fear of being caught out of bed, but before she can return upstairs she’s startled by the famous ghostly image of Drosselmeier atop the grandfather clock in place of the decorative owl, his cloak billowing out like wings. He showers the entire parlor in pixie dust, and goofy-looking mice armed with forks and needles pop up from of every crevice. Pavlova scares them away from Clara until one arrives to scare him back – the Mouse King, looking far more intimidating than he did in the flashback.

One is an animation student’s design project, the other is Ratigan’s cousin. Would you believe they’re one and the same?

Drosselmeier also douses the toy cabinet with his magic and brings them all to life. The Nutcracker is woken up and, having no idea of what’s happened since the incident with Pirlipat, quickly has to come to grips with his new form and the fact that a sociopathic mouse has sworn a vendetta against him. And you thought the Hangover guys had it bad. Marie and Trudy plead him to take up his mantle as Prince of the Dolls and fight despite his inexperience. Fritz’s soldiers vow their loyalty and Pantaloon (voiced by Peter O’Freaking Toole) is made second-in-command. Though rather than do any actual fighting the old coot drones on and on in Shakespeare references.

“So we’re not watching Ratatouille Peter O’Toole so much as Man of La Mancha Peter O’Toole. Imagine my delight.”

Actually, like the Marie/Clara name switch before, I have to wonder if this odd characteristic of Pantaloon is another subtle in-joke or reference towards the original story. Hoffman was a big Shakespeare fan and often referenced him in his writings, including The Nutcracker. In the book when Fritz’s soldiers desert the battle, the Nutcracker cries out the famous line from Richard the Third, “My kingdom for a horse!” (paired down here to a simple “Come back!” when the toy horses run free). In a weird way, having Pantaloon riff on Shakespeare is a nod to Hoffman. On top of that, one of his first lines is “All for one and one for all”, which everyone remembers from Alexandre Dumas’ The Three Musketeers. Years after Hoffman’s Nutcracker was published, Dumas wrote his own version of the story which is the lighter, softer one that the ballet takes the most cues from. So whether or not this was intentional is up for debate, but if it was I give the writers all the credit in the world for honoring both authors of The Nutcracker in such an obscure and subtle way.

The battle between the mice and the dolls promises to be an exciting one. The problem is once it gets going, it’s so wildly unfocused. The mice and dolls run around each other aimlessly firing and flailing at will. Clara could end all this just by kicking the mice to the other side of the room, but she just stands to the side and giggles at everything happening. Then there’s Marie, who in spite of Trudy strongarming her into helping the fight barely does anything other than scream in a stereotypical Southern accent and complain about how all this fighting is spoiling her complexion, like if she were a more spoiled version of Princess and the Frog’s Charlotte LaBouff. She’s marginally more tolerable that Pirlipat. Granted she does have one funny moment where her dress gets splattered with cheese and that’s what pushes her into a violent rage against the mice.

“And you will know my name is the Lord & Taylor when I lay my vengeance upon thee!”

Anyway, the mice hold down Nutcracker long enough for the Mouse King to have a go at killing him. Clara finally intervenes, throwing her slipper at the Mouse King and knocking him off his high toy horse. But she slips on a marble into the clock and falls unconscious.

Clara wakes up back in her bed on Christmas morning, her head wrapped up in bandages. Nobody believes what she saw the previous night, owing her delusions to a fever sustained from her injury. Drosselmeier pays Clara a surprise visit and presents her with a newly fixed Nutcracker. Grateful as she is, Clara calls him out for not doing anything when his own nephew was in danger, though Drosselmeier states he’s not the one who has the power to save him. Clara’s mother insists she stay in bed and do nothing for the rest of the day, which, come on Mom. Worst Christmas ever.

That evening the Mouse King also pops into Clara’s room to return her slipper. Awfully decent of him, all things considering. After making more big talk about how he’s gonna turn Nutcracker into a pile of splinters, Clara lures him into her drawer with the promise of some chocolates Fritz left her earlier and traps him in there. She flees downstairs to hide Nutcracker, but the Mouse King has mastered offscreen teleportation and threatens to kill Pavlova if she doesn’t hand him over. The owl on top of the clock changes into Drosselmeier and once again he brings the toys to life. This time it’s just for moral support as Nutcracker and the Mouse King battle mano-e-mouso up the Christmas tree. It’s a big improvement over the first battle. There’s more focus since it’s just the two of them fighting and there’s creative use of the terrain and presents around it. My one complaint is that Nutcracker doesn’t drunkenly tackle the tree itself at one point, but we can’t have everything we want for Christmas.

Whomsoever pulls the sword from the spruce shall become king of all Toyland! Oops, wrong mythos.

At one point the Mouse King nearly runs through a defenseless Nutcracker but Pantaloon bravely intervenes at the cost of a nasty back wound. Finally, Nutcracker delivers the killing blow and the Mouse King’s body crashes to the floor. The mice scatter and the toys declare victory. But Pantaloon’s batteries are about to expire, and since the Stahlbaums out of double-A’s the only way to save him is to get him to the Land of the Dolls; the gate to which is coincidentally right through Drosselmeier’s castle. Nutcracker eagerly invites Clara to join them, and after saying some mysterious something or other about time, Drosselmeier shrinks her down to their size with magic. They enter the castle, and Pavlova goes to inspect the Mouse King, which, for a decomposing corpse, seems to be growling an awful lot…

In the castle Marie gets sidetracked by the waltzing gentlemen while the rest continue on. They reach some lovely winter gardens where the snow is made of coconut icing and the royal swans Clara has fantasized earlier wait to take them on their journey. Since Marie is too late to join them, she has to settle for being dragged through the air on a common mallard.

Still better than flying United Airlines.

The swans soar over a forest of Christmas trees up to the stars and through a magical waterfall that changes Clara and Nutcracker into attire befitting royalty and restores Pantaloon to health. They all land at a beautiful palace made of sweets where Nutcracker’s subjects give them a warm welcome. Clara and Nutcracker head out on to the ballroom floor to dance to my favorite piece from the ballet – scratch that, of any classical composer – the achingly beautiful Pas De Deux.

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Like Clara’s solo before, the choreography is rotoscoped, but they’re much more clever at hiding it this time around. The dancing plays out like a dreamy montage with the moves fading in and out from one another, alternating between pink and blue silhouettes, minimally colored full-body shots, and more detailed animation reserved for closeups. There’s also an old-fashioned Vaseline-on-the-lens-style filter on, the kind normally reserved for romantic moments from Hollywood’s golden age which befits the tone they’re going for.

With the dance done, Nutcracker asks Clara to stay with him and rule the Land of the Dolls forever. Clara is sorely tempted, but something holds her back from saying yes. The idea of living in a candy castle with her dream prince and childhood friends is too good to be true, a perfect happy ending. And that’s just it – an ending. Clara has dreams beyond that will never come true if she settles, dreams of seeing the world and being a prima ballerina which can only happen if she chooses to grow up, and she wants to in spite of how much she’s fallen in love with Nutcracker. It would have hit harder if this theme of choosing to mature vs. clinging to girlhood was explored more throughout the movie, but the point still stands.

Now that the desire to grow up has taken hold, Pantaloon, Marie and Trudy change back into ordinary toys, the spark of life bestowed by childhood imagination put out. One by one, the denizens of the doll kingdom drop like flies, their number growing as Clara keeps justifying her refusal to stay.

And as if things couldn’t get any worse, guess who crashes the party?

Ohhhhhh shiiiiit….

Up to this point the Mouse King was a comical villain who was difficult to take seriously. But now here he is like Ratigan in the final act of The Great Mouse Detective, bereft of his senses and embracing his inner animal. His chest wound is still bleeding, his breathing is ragged, he doesn’t even talk, and he shuffles forward like a zombie, but nothing holds him back his single-minded pursuit of Clara. You can’t even tell if he’s going after her because he recognizes the part she played in his eventual demise or he’s desperate to stick it to Nutcracker before he drops dead. Hell, maybe in his near-death state he’s so delusional that he thinks Clara IS Nutcracker. That makes it even more terrifying; he knows he’s dying but refuses to go without taking someone, anyone out with him in as violent a manner as possible.

The circle-eyes kind of kill it for me, though. I mean, when a bad guy or monster is cornering you in their final moments, which gaze is more threatening – bloodshot, glowing and blank, or colorful cartoon rings? Unless their name is Judge Doom, the answer should always be the former.

Defenseless, all Clara can do is pelt dessert at him. But it’s only delaying the inevitable. And when Nutcracker tries to help, the change slowly and painfully takes over him and he is forced to watch as his mortal enemy corners his true love, resulting in the most arresting visual of the movie.

Nutcracker gasps out Clara’s name one last time and morphs fully back into wood. A single tear remains on his face, the only sign he was ever truly alive.

The Mouse King traps Clara on the balcony, lunges at her and goes over the railing, finally taking himself out with a classic Disney villain fall. Clara pulls herself back up and sees the palace is now completely abandoned and filling up with mist. She cries desperately for her Nutcracker as the final heartrending strings of the Pas De Deux play, and the scene to slowly fades to black.

This scene…this whole scene from the moment the Pas De Deux began…how it got me when I was a kid. It broke my heart and did an echappé all over the pieces. Everything from the visuals to the acting and especially the music still punches me in the feels. For all my gripes about the inconsistent animation, this is the part of the movie where it absolutely shines. And thanks to the ramped up tension that follows every note, I’ve always associated this piece of Tchaikovsky’s score with poignant dramatic moments. Say what you will about the past hour of this movie, it is worth it for this excellent emotional climax.

Fritz bursts into Clara’s room startling her awake and declares Pavlova killed a crooked-tailed mouse by the clockwork castle. Clara dashes downstairs to the toy cabinet but finds Nutcracker is gone. She sprints out of the house straight to Drosselmeier’s shop. Oddly enough, he seems to be expecting her. Clara begs Drosselmeier to tell her if the story about the Nutcracker and the Mouse King is true for the sake of her sanity. But then, a handsome young man enters from the other room.

Drosselmeier introduces him as his nephew, Hans. Despite this apparently being their first time meeting, Hans greets her with familiarity, even bowing to her just as her Nutcracker Prince did. And his voice is one Clara would know anywhere. She in turn gives the perfect response.

“Hello…Nutcracker.”

If the climax already left me nearly speechless than the finale takes whatever little words are left straight from my mouth. As far as endings go it’s near flawless. I’d say The Nutcracker Prince borrowed from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast if it weren’t for the fact that it came out the year before Beauty did. Like The Wizard of Oz, it knows how to leave you on an emotional high note. While it’s supposed to be ambiguous, it’s the kind where deep down you just know the real answer without any explanations given.

“Though I can only imagine how awkward it would have been after she said that if it did turn out to be a dream.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP CYNICISM YOU WILL NOT RUIN THIS MOMENT FOR ME!!”

And because this was the 90’s, our end credits play over another Oscar-bait power ballad, this one being loosely inspired by the Waltz of the Flowers. Not one of the best, but still a good one to close the film on. Enjoy!

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I honestly feel a little bad critiquing The Nutcracker Prince because at the end of the day it’s a fantasy, and fantasies play by their own emotional nonsensical surrealistic rules. It’d be like if Cinema Sins tried to blast a Jean Cocteau flick (and knowing those bastards’ egos they will if they haven’t already). Sure the characters aren’t the most deep, there’s some fluff in the story that could have been put to better use and the animation is inconsistent (characters go wildly off-model and if you pause at the right moment you’ve got plenty of fodder for the “DIDNEY WORL” meme) but when they get it right it’s wonderful. I’d say this and the obscure stop-motion version done by Sanrio (yes, the Hello Kitty factory) make for the most faithful and interesting retellings of The Nutcracker out there. I credit The Nutcracker Prince along with the Nutcracker Suite segment of Fantasia for introducing me to this magical music and story in the first place. I watched the tape quite a bit up until it got lost in the home entertainment shuffle, and enjoyed seeing it several times on the Disney Channel and Toon Disney during the holidays (and the occasional Christmas in July marathon). It’s not perfect, but hey, it wouldn’t be the holidays if you didn’t enjoy at least one imperfectly animated special that hits you over the head with nostalgia feels. Some people have Rankin-Bass, I have The Nutcracker Prince. And I hope the next generation will embrace it too.

Merry Christmas, and thank you for reading! Do you have a favorite version of The Nutcracker? Let me know in the comments! If you’d like to support me and see more reviews, consider supporting me on Patreon.

I’ll see you in the new year with Abby Kane’s requested review of Disney’s Pinocchio – that is, if my special Christmas present doesn’t keep me from finishing it on time (you’re going down, Ridley!!)

Artwork by Charles Moss.

Christmas Shelf Reviews: The Nutcracker Prince (1990) Merry Christmas everyone! To conclude this month of merrymaking we're looking at an animated Christmas cult classic that I have a bit of a soft spot for.

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glasgowgirl92-blog · 7 years

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Linstead - The Playlist: Unconditionally

So, this has taken an extraordinary amount of time to get to you and it’s so damn short so there’s no excuse other than I’m tired as hell all the time right now. Anyway! This one is based on Unconditionally - Katy Perry, because we all know that Jay’s love for Erin doesn’t come with conditions, he loved her when she was spiralling and loved her when she called their relationship off and loved her when she was spiralling again. We also know Erin loves Jay because she keeps coming back for him, because he’s her other half and really the only one who has loved her without expectations.

Previous playlist chapters are: Safe Inside, Golden, Lullaby (yes, it all started with a song fic!), When Someone stops loving you. And due to the fact I broke a lot of people with that, I decided to bring some fluff into the equation. Enjoy!

Tagging: @halsteadpd, @queseraone, @erinlindscys, @writteninthestarsandthesky (if you want added, just let me know!))

Come just as you are to me Don't need apologies Know that you are all worthy I'll take your bad days with your good Walk through this storm I would I'd do it all because I love you, I love you

Jay Halstead was a romantic son of a bitch. This was something that Erin Lindsey had learned pretty early on, before they started dating. She’d know that he was thoughtful and attentive and would find a way to brighten your day without drawing attention to himself. The amount of post it’s she got with smiley faces drawn on them made her grin. She’d kept everything he’d ever given her in an envelope and when she felt down and he wasn’t around, she’d grab it and sneak into the break room or the locker room and look through them. Some days, those were the difference between her losing her shit at work, or losing her shit against his chest in their apartment.

Some of the cases had been ridiculous lately and she’d felt herself wanting to slip into bad habits. Ready to pick up more than the couple of beers she and Jay usually shared, ready to drink more than the couple of shots of whatever he’d pour for her before the bottle went back up on top of her kitchen cupboards and she’d have to climb to reach. He was always there though, Jay, with a soft touch, a kind word, a kiss on the back of the head. Things with IA, with Justin, with the missing woman and then Platt, it had just gotten to the point where she had to talk herself out of bed in the morning.

That was when she realised that Jay Halstead wasn’t just attentive and romantic. That was the day she learned that Jay Halstead was capable of loving her in ways that she never thought existed, ways she thought only existed in the movies.

She’d spent the night before screaming at him; picking fights over everything and nothing. Things that weren’t actually bothering her, she was determined to make him walk away. Make him leave. Push him far enough so he would go out of their apartment and she could climb the counter, get the good stuff and not feel guilty about it. Except he just wouldn’t leave.

Erin had tried low blows, tried anything she could think of. She’d almost brought up his relationship with his father, but couldn’t bring herself to hurt Jay like that. So she’d mentioned Gabby and Allie, she’d brought up the fact that Mouse was back in the desert and wanted to know why Jay wouldn’t go back. He’d simply swallowed and turned to face her, clenching his teeth enough that his jaw flexed and she knew she hit a nerve, a raw nerve at that. However, when he’d turned to her, those blue green eyes filled with hurt, she’d bit her damn tongue before stumbling over apologies.

“Erin,” he said softly, his hand reaching out to cup her face as they sat on the sofa, his other hand taking hers and linking their fingers. “I get it.” He said, a smile on his face, albeit a sad one. “I get what you’re doing and you can keep swinging at me all night, I’m not letting you do this to yourself.”

Erin’s bottom lip trembled as she leaned into his hand, because she’d never known someone who was so attuned to her needs that they could work out all her tells and still sit there with her.

“Jay—” She started to speak, but he leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to her lips that tasted of forgiveness, of love and hope and she immediately shut up and moved closer. She sought out his heat as she slid towards him on the sofa, his arm wrapping around her shoulders and letting her absorb his body heat.

“I don’t wanna hear apologies. We can work on your coping strategies when you’re feeling better, slugger.” He teased, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half smirk. “What I wanna know is what’s wrong.” His pad of his thumb was soft against the skin of her hand and she felt a fresh wave of tears forming, dipping her head so he wouldn’t see. Jay had other ideas, however, and dipped his head, too, attempting to catch her eyes.

“He had everything to live for.” Her voice was broken and Jay’s lips were warm against her forehead, and Erin fought to keep the tears in, just for the moment, because Jay deserved to know why she was picking fights with him, why he was the one holding them together by himself. “He had a son. He was really turning his life around, Jay.” Her fingers had wrapped into the cotton of his shirt, a grip on him so tight that the sleeve was making an indent in his arm. “He was helping a friend.”

Jay swallowed, his lips still pressed against Erin’s forehead, moving only when she hiccupped a sob. “Sometimes it takes longer for some people to find their way in life, Erin.” He soothed, his arm pulling her ever closer, cheek resting in her head. “Sometimes people have things they can’t run from and they have to face them head on. Like you did with Charlie.” His voice was soft, but heavy with pride and Erin felt it envelope her like his hug was. It always felt like this whenever she heard that in his voice; or when she watched him relay some take down she’d done or some other badass thing she’d accomplished. It was never because she was girl, it was always because he was damn proud of his partner and wanted everyone to know it.

“Charlie was small compared to somethings.” The statement was out of her mouth without passing through the filter and she tensed, but Jay didn’t, he didn’t change, only moved to kiss her head again.

“Was that supposed to scare me off?” He asked, dipping his head to meet her gaze, “Because you’re doing a really crap job of doing that.” He let out a small oof of breath when Erin punched him, looking up and catching his smile, any annoyance melting on the spot. “I’m serious, there’s nothing you got going on that I can’t handle, that I won’t handle.” Jay told her with a grin, leaning in to kiss her softly.

When she pulled away, she scooted closer, the weight of her grief over Justin still pressing heavily against her chest. Jay had pointed out numerous times that she hadn’t grieved for him, not properly. Not with knowing what Voight had done, what they’d let him do. Jay wasn’t stupid, he’d known what Voight had done, what Erin had done, but he’d never opened his mouth because he didn’t want to lose her. When Jay tilted his head, the question he’d been asking for months shining back at her in his eyes, she simply allowed him to pull her closer, curling against his chest, her fingers gripping his shirt.

All it took for her to let go was the words he murmured against her hair and the soft way he stroked her back. “It’s okay, you’re safe here. I got you, babe.”

The first thing she noticed when she woke up was the fact that she was alone on the sofa, the second was the smell of pancakes filtering through the apartment. The third was the fact that Jay Halstead really couldn’t sing a note and Nickleback didn’t sound any better being warbled by him. She pushed herself up into a seated position and stretched, grinning at the patchwork blanket draped over her. His mom had made this and it was absolutely his prized possession, but he’d deny it if anyone asked him and say it was his motorcycle picture that had hung above his bed. Little did they know, his mom had gotten that for him, too. The fact she was wearing his shirt meant one thing; she’d cried herself to sleep and Jay had fallen asleep, too, and when he’d woken up, he’d decided that putting his shirt on her and then arranging them on the sofa was better, somehow, than just carrying her to bed.

Erin never felt smaller than when she was wearing his shirts; he wasn’t hugely muscular, but his shirts certainly still swamped her enough for them to make her feel small and safe and cherished. She shuffled to her feet and made her way into the kitchen, stretching on her way and tilting her head as she watched him move effortlessly around the kitchen.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” He grinned, looking over his shoulder, his sweatpants sitting sinfully low on his hips and causing her to smirk and blush all at the same time. “Breakfast is almost ready. I knew pancakes would wake you.”

Erin grunted her agreement and he threw his head back on a laugh that made her tummy flip and her heart race and she was stupidly hung up on this guy. He did however, step towards the other counter and picked up her mug, turning to hand her the massive mug off coffee, a boyish grin on his face. Her eyes lit up and he chuckled again as she took the mug from him and sipped the liquid, letting out a happy sigh before pushing up onto her tiptoes for a kiss.

“Go get yourself settled and I’ll bring them through.” He told her, kissing her again and then swatting at her ass, sending her on her merry way, with a laugh and a glare when some coffee sloshed over the side of her mug and onto the floor. “I got it,” he told her holding his hands up.

“Damn straight, Halstead.” She muttered, heading back into the living room and placing the cup down on the coffee table gently, rearranging the blanket and the cushion before she plopped herself down on the sofa again and flipped on the TV to watch the morning cartoons. He leaned her head on the back of the sofa when Jay asked her did she want everything on her pancakes and she sent him a snarky reply about knowing what was good for him.

It wasn’t until she lifted her head that a little ball of orange and green caught her eye by the fireplace; crinkled paper and she moved to investigate, a frown on her face when she settled back on the sofa after retrieving them. Balled up paper. Erin slowly unfolded them, untangled them and then grinned, tears filling her eyes when she saw what was written on them, Jay’s scrawl across the orange paper simply read “I love you.” But there was a line through the u as though someone had bumped him when he was writing it, or he’d tried to hid it. The other one had her heart growing too big for her chest. This imperfect note was coffee stained and torn through the middle, but she could still work out what it said and she carefully folded them both and stashed them in her jeans that were neatly folded on the floor next to his. She fully planned to add them to the collection he’d already given her, but she knew the coffee stained post it note would always be her favorite, would always be her go to pick me up from then on out.

Unconditionally.

#linstead #linsteadfiction #linstead fanfiction #jay halstead #jay and erin #erin lindsay

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casandpuppies · 7 years

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October Destiel AU Challenge: Day 13 - Would You Like to Buy Some Honey?

31 Days of Destiel Drabbles: Day 21 Day 13 - Farmer’s Market

Of all the places that Dean wants to be on a Saturday morning, this place is just about last on the list. For starters, it’s nine o’ clock and he doesn’t have to work today, so he could still be sleeping right now. Hell, if he’s going to be awake anyway, he’d almost rather be at work. At least he enjoys working on cars.

This…this is a different story entirely. He eyes the scene in front of him with suspicion. There’s vendors everywhere and far more people than Dean thinks is reasonable for what’s basically a glorified grocery store. A group of people picks that moment to pass by them, nearly running him over in the process. Looks to be the rich, hipster type. Same as probably literally everyone here, because who else would spend this much money on goddamn vegetables? He scowls at them and then turns the look on Sam. Sam, the whole reason he’s out of bed and here this early in the morning on a precious day off.

“There’s supermarkets for a reason, Sam.”

Sam just gives Dean one of his patented you uncultured swine how are we even related looks. “Yeah, but farmer’s markets are better, because all the stuff is fresh and local and handmade and you can’t get that at Walmart. It’s better for you, it tastes better, and it supports the local economy.”

In response, Dean rolls his eyes and makes an unconvinced grunt. “Okay, I get it, you’re a tree-hugging hippy, but the food at real stores tastes fine, hasn’t killed me yet, and it doesn’t cost half my paycheck.”

“You didn’t have to come with me,” Sam says in that passive-aggressive tone of his. Like Dean actually had a choice in the matter. Like he chose to come of his own free will. Like Dean’s constitution is any match for Sam’s puppy eyes and incessant pleading, even after all these years. Especially when he had to go and involve his ridiculous and disgusting crush on Eileen and then proceed to stroke Dean’s ego by complimenting his cooking skills. So of course Dean is going to help his little brother impress Eileen by helping him cook an epic dinner for their weekly get-together. And if that means Sam wants to cook with all this fancy, organic crap, then Dean will grin and bear it. Doesn’t mean he has to like it, though.

“I was promised pie,” Dean replies skeptically, because he sure as hell doesn’t see any pie so far. “Of course I had to come if there’s pie involved.”

Sam makes an annoyed huffing sound. “You’ll get your pie,” he says, beckoning Dean forward. “Now come on, you’re the one who insisted I shouldn’t be let near a kitchen, so help me pick stuff.”

Dean sighs, but follows after Sam, anyway. It’s going to be a long day.

Sam may be right to some extent when he talks about how Dean is the one with all the natural talent in the kitchen, but even he can only do so much when he’s never even heard of half of this shit, before. What even is arugula? It sounds like a Harry Potter spell.

Although, he has to admit that he’s seen some pretty nice stuff. Maybe not so superior in quality that he’d come all the way across town and pay twice as much, but still. He’s snatched up some nice lettuce and tomatoes because that stuff always goes good on burgers and he’s still hoping he might convince Sam to let him make his famous burgers for dinner.

But he still stands by his thought that a farmer’s market is a hipster’s wet dream. Not only are there countless stands with produce and nuts and other foods, but he’s seen several vendors selling those hippie bags and paintings and even some hats, to name a few of the crafts. He doesn’t keep up with what kids do these days, but he can imagine this is the kind of place the kids might “Instagram” about. It’s…kind of disgustingly cute, if he’s being honest.

Still no pie though. Maybe he’s supposed to buy apples or pecans or whatever and make his own pie, but he feels that’s definitely cheating the rules and he doesn’t intend to let Sam get away with that.

It’s been about half an hour since he got separated from Sam, and he never imagined this place would be big enough that finding a giant like his brother would be an issue. Somehow, he has a feeling Sam’s avoiding him on purpose, because Sam is a big nerd who’s probably having the time of his life here.

“Can I help you find something?” a deep voice calls out to him, making Dean realize he’s been standing in front of this tent without moving for longer than is probably socially acceptable. Turning towards the voice, he sees a dark-haired man sitting under a yellow awning, and regarding him with a pleasant smile and curious, blue eyes. He’s actually young, and pretty damn good-looking, if Dean does say so himself, which kind of breaks his (admittedly unfair and untrue) stereotype of all these vendors being old farmers and lonely, rich housewives. At least he doesn’t look one of these new-age hippie types.

Dean clears his throat, embarrassed to be caught standing around like an idiot. “Nah, man, just looking for my brother. He dragged me here and sent me on a mission to help him find the perfect ingredients for a dinner he wants to make to impress his girlfriend. And he ran away from me, and now I kinda have no idea what I’m doing.” Why on earth he feels compelled to overshare is beyond him, but fortunately the guy just nods along like he’s interested, saving Dean some degree of awkwardness, and then he smiles.

“Well, if you’re at a loss for ingredients, I could suggest something,” he says, gesturing to the table in front of him, “but you might think it big-headed of me.”

Only now does Dean take the time to actually look and see what this guy’s selling. He doesn’t seem like the super artsy and crafty kind of guy, but he doesn’t necessarily seem like a farmer, either. Of course, in all fairness, there’s not a specific “type” these kinds of people have to fit into, so Dean can’t really judge by looks alone.

Turns out, there’s a whole army of jars, arranged in a few neat little lines along the table, from bigger sizes in the back to smaller sizes in the front. Each jar is filled with a thick amber liquid, which Dean recognizes after a moment.

“Honey?” He raises an eyebrow. The label reads ‘Castiel Novak Apiaries,’ and has a phone number and address written underneath, with a little cartoon bee drawn off to the side. “You made all this?”

The man—Castiel or Casteel or however the hell he pronounces it—chuckles. “Well, technically, I didn’t make it. The bees get the credit for that. I just harvested it. But yes, I’m Castiel, which is what I assume you were getting at.” He sticks his hand out across the table in kind of an awkward motion.

“Of course.” Dean snorts, but takes the offered hand and shakes it. “Dean. And as tempting as it is, I don’t think my brother would appreciate me coming back with nothing but honey. Can’t really do much with it, you know?”

Castiel tilts his head and gives Dean what can only be described as a challenging look. “On the contrary. I’m told my honey makes very good apple pies.”

He perks up at the mention of pie. “Now you’re just trying to bribe me, I swear.”

Castiel grins and leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, before letting his eyes very obviously rove over Dean’s body. “You look like the kind of guy who appreciates pie.”

“So you are trying to bribe me.” If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d say that was a flirtatious remark. Not that he’s opposed to the idea, of course, but why would this guy even be interested?

Castiel shrugs innocently. “I am trying to sell a commodity, here. Is it working, or do I need to discuss other benefits of honey?” Okay, that was definitely an attempt at flirting.

Dean tries to resist the urge to roll his eyes. So maybe the guy isn’t a hippie or hipster or an old farmer, but he is kind of weird. Weird in an awkward, dorky way. Weird in an almost endearing way. He leans closer to the table and picks up one of the jars, turning it over in his hands. He decides to try his own form of Winchester charm and see how that does. “I don’t know, man, the mention of pie has almost got me sold, but how do I know you’re telling the truth? You don’t have any pie to prove it.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Castiel raises an eyebrow and the corner of his lips pull up into a little smile. He crosses his arms. “I suppose I’ll just have to make you one.”

Dean mirrors Castiel’s smile, and his eyes are probably lighting up at the prospect of a maybe-date and pie. “Oh, is that so? You’re quite the dedicated salesman.”

By the time Sam finally finds Dean, Dean’s gotten a number, a time and place, and another probably addition to their family dinners in the future. Sam spends the rest of the day bemoaning Dean’s ability to forget what he’s supposed to be doing in favor of picking up a hot guy or girl at any chance he gets. Dean know that Sam isn’t mad, though, because it turns out that Castiel—or Cas, as Dean finds out he prefers—is actually a damn good cook.

#destiel #destiel fic #deancas #deancas fic #destiel fanfic #Supernatural #Mandy's writing #october destiel au challenge #damn I suck so bad at this #but I'm going to do 31 of them before the end of october if it fucking kills me #going to try and crank out as many as I can today while I'm off from work #to the people who read these--thank you for your patience! you're awesome

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #470

“how can you choose to let the blind see better than you?”

What was the main character called in the last film you watched? Dewey. What would you name your pet snake if you had one? It would depend on its appearance. The snake I have now is named Venus because of her coloration. Do you like peanuts? Only if they're covered in chocolate or in granola bars in small portions. Have you ever gambled? What was your biggest loss/win? No. What was the last movie you watched? Who did you watch it with? Girt and I watched School of Rock together. What do you eat for breakfast? Excluding the rare occasions my mom cooks something, usually cereal or a sandwich. Do you have a Flickr? I do, but it's abandoned. Anything exciting happening in the month of September? No. When was the last time you had an ice cream sandwich? Oh man, it's been too long. I really want one now. Do you eat breakfast daily? Yeah. What was the last thing to scare you? "Scare" is a strong word, but I was very, very nervous to hear what weight I'd gained since my last doctor's appointment. Do you like mustard? Yeah, I do. Do you have a desktop computer or laptop? A laptop. Do you like to play Jenga? I guess? I don't really have an opinion on it. Do you like Fresca? Not very, but I'll drink it if I really want a soda and it's the only option. How many towels do you use after a shower? Just one. Would you ever flash a cop if you knew you'd get out of a ticket? Um, no thank you. What is your favorite thrill ride ever? I don't like those. I'm afraid of puking or fainting. Biggest irrational fear? Truly irrational, probably whale sharks. Favorite movie sequel? Hm. If you had endless funds, where would you buy most of your clothes? Cloak and Rebel's Market. How many jobs have you had? Three, technically. What is your favorite thing to do in your city? Oh hun, fun doesn't exist here. This place sucks. Have you ever gone strawberry picking? Ha ha, yes... but I was a little kid that absolutely gorged on the strawberries instead of putting them in my basket. The person that worked there didn't make my mom pay for what I did or anything, but they made a joke about weighing me to check the damage I did, ha ha. My face was COVERED in strawberry juice. I wish I could actually remember the occasion, but I was too young. How many times have you seen a doctor this month? It feels like a lot. >_< I had to get blood drawn for two different things on separate appointments, I had a follow-up appointment with my primary physician about my weight, I recently spoke to my therapist and psychiatrist... Could you pull off orange hair? I've actually considered like, a light creamsicle orange. I actually edited a photo of me with my current hair style trying different colors, and that tint looked pretty cute. Do you shave your legs? It sounds dumb, but yes, now that I'm in a relationship. I feel obligated to at least try and be attractive by societal standards. I know it seriously doesn't matter, but I would be so inexplicably mortified if he saw my unshaven legs kalsdj;flkasdjwe What type of weather is your favorite? Snowy! Coolest place you've ever been? Disney World, probs. Do you like corn on the cob? Yeah, man. Have you ever waited tables? No. Build your favorite pizza. Soft pan crust, your average amount of sauce and a good amount of cheese with various meats on it. What did you last get fancy for? I wouldn't say I got like, super fancy, but I wore a nice shirt and a necklace when Girt came over for the first time as a couple. I thought we were actually leaving the house to go out to dinner, but the plan was actually to have Buffalo Wild Wings delivered. It was totally fine by me, I'd just misunderstood. Dream pet? A female Brazilian Black tarantula named Black Betty. :') Do you tend to get clingy in relationships? I know I do. What is the last horror movie you watched? It's sad that I don't know. :( Would you be grossed out if your best friend mooned you? No, I'd just be extremely confused lmao. What is the last thing that you drank? Milk. Currently popular song that you can't stand? I have zero idea what songs are popular right now. What is the weather like right now? Too fuckin' hot to be mid-September. Do you have favorite type/brand of pen? I mean, I like the feel of gel pens. I don't know about brands. What is your go-to snack at the convenience store? Some form of Reese's. Popular drink that you dislike? Coffee shocks the most people. What TV show are you waiting on to return/create a new season? None. What is something you currently want but cannot afford? Oh, dear. -_- Do you have sensitive skin? Very. How many toilets are in your house? Two. Do you have an older sister? Three that I know, one that I don't really count because I know nothing about her and have never spoken to her. What color is your mum’s car? White. Do you live in an apartment? No. Cats are usually cuter than dogs right? Kittens are generally cuter than puppies, imo. Where do you keep your kitty litter box? It has to stay in my bedroom, which I hate. Mom insists on in being in here so I don't forget to clean it. My memory is awful, but I'm preeeetty sure I'd remember to give my cat a clean place to use the bathroom if it was kept in the spare room by the door... Are you rude to little children? No; even if I don't really like kids, that is something I definitely avoid. Kids should never lose their hope in or love for humanity, and I would absolutely hate to be one of those people that makes the human race appear unpleasant. Are you a lighter complexion than your father? BY FAR. He's a mailman so is out in the sun nearly every day, so he's pretty damn dark to be Caucasian. I wouldn't be surprised if by his complexion he's ever been mistaken for being Hispanic, because the color definitely fits. Do you like apricots? No. Are banana chips delicious? Ew, that sounds gross. Do you like kinky sex? I wouldn't know, my dude. I've never really explored outside of pretty vanilla stuff. What is one thing you will never do again? Rely solely on another person for happiness. Would you rather be twice as smart or twice as happy? Twice as happy. That's not even a competition. What would your parents be surprised to learn about you? I very legitimately wonder if I would be disowned for how fucked up some of the shit I write is, ha ha. Mom would probably cry if she saw some of even the milder stuff and force the topic to come up in therapy. If you could have been a child prodigy what would you have wanted to be skilled at? Maybe painting? If earth could only have one condiment for the rest of time, what would you pick to keep around? Hmmm... I suppose ketchup. Do you think it’s important to stay up to date with the news? I think it is, but I don't. .-. What is the best present you could ever receive? An all-expenses-paid trip to South Africa to visit and tour with the Kalahari Meerkat Project to meet and photograph the meerkats. :''''''''''') Would you give up one of your fingers if it meant you’d have free WiFi wherever you go, for the rest of your life? Nah. That's what data is for, lol. If someone told you you could give one person a present and your budget was unlimited–what present would you get and for whom? A new car for Mom. Giant house in a subdivision or tiny house somewhere with a view? Oh, that is SO easy. Give me the view. Well wait, HOW tiny is the house? My answer would change if it was one of those truly mini houses that would make me feel claustrophobic as shit. What was your favorite Disney movie as a kid? The Lion King. Still is. Do you brush your teeth in the bathroom, or do you get bored & roam around? I roam around. Does your city/town have a little festival/carnival every year? Yes. I never really pay attention tho 'cuz I never go. Have you ever been to an apple orchard? No, but I would love to go. Were there any cartoons your parents didn’t let you watch as a kid? Except "adult" cartoons obviously, no. Could you handle motherhood? No fucking way. Being entirely serious, I think I'd either end up dead or horribly depressed, and the kid psychologically damaged to some extent from having an unstable mother. Like do not get me wrong, I'd try very hard, but I know I couldn't stay sane and happy as a mom. Have you ever touched a squirrel? No. What's better, candles or incense? Incense. What movie did you see the most in theaters? I don't watch movies in theaters twice. It's expensive to go even once. Who played the best Batman? Idk. I didn't watch all the movies. Who’s the best American Idol thus far? *shrug* What’s likely to happen next in your family - wedding, funeral, or birth? Uh, I suppose a wedding? None seem likely any time soon. Do you like hot, cold, or lukewarm showers? Hot. Have you ever taken part in a threesome? No, not my jam. Do you plan on having both your parents at your wedding? Yep. Which movie’s musical score is truly memorable? Tarzan came to mind very quickly. What’s your favorite scene from the movie Titanic? Idk, I've only seen it once. Which TV show theme music do you remember most? That '70s Show. Have you ever bounced any checks? ... I don't even know what that means. :x Have you ever been snipe hunting? I will never in my life hunt in any way, shape, or form. Do you try to be politically correct? For the most part, but I do believe it's gone too far. Generally though, I try to conform to the "rules" to avoid offending someone. What’s your favorite kind of sea critter? Bottlenose dolphins, various types of whales, sea turtles... I don't think I could pick one. Have you ever tasted locally-made honey before? Does it count if it's from a honeysuckle flower? Do you like to wear toe socks? No, they're mad uncomfortable imo. Have you ever worn bright red lipstick? Yes. Do you think raccoons are adorable, like I do? BABIES!!!!!!!!!!!

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''on the shore'' by otep

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subcorax · 7 years

Text

Fic: Aubade (ch. 5)

Rating: Teen

Pairing(s): Kageyama Ritsu/Suzuki Shou, Background Teru/Mob Characters: Ritsu, Shou, Teru, Mob Tags: Future fic, college setting, fluff, slow burn Chapter Word Count: 4703 Total Word Count: 21341

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Summary: Ritsu and Shou have been orbiting around each other ever since they were thirteen years old. Really, something like this was inevitable. (Based off of a prompt!)

Read on Ao3

There were six trains leaving Seasoning Station on the day they set off: two in the morning, and four in the afternoon.

Ritsu had immediately and vehemently vetoed the 6 AM train, whereas Shou had objected to taking another night train, on the grounds that he couldn’t sleep on trains at all, and he needed Ritsu awake to keep him company, so that had ruled out the two trains leaving after 6 PM. They’d both been kind of iffy about the early-afternoonish trains, knowing they were the most likely to have families and tourists and the like.

So, their little group had ended up huddled together on the platform, waiting sleepily for the 9 AM train to pull in.

Ritsu’s parents had said their goodbyes the night before at the house, so it’s just Mob, Teru, and Reigen who’ve shown up to send them off at the station. As usual, their group is receiving some odd looks from the sparse groups of people scattered around the station, although every employee they’ve met has recognized Reigen and Mob on sight.

Shou is, Ritsu thinks, not actually awake. Oh, sure, he’s standing, and he’d showered and gotten dressed and dragged luggage behind him on the walk, but he hasn’t actually formed a coherent sentence yet, and he’s been leaning on Ritsu more and more heavily for about the past five minutes. He has no less than three times flipped off Teru, who actually had the nerve to jog ahead of them to the station, is wearing neon pink running shorts, and is drinking something that looks like shit and smells like the ghost of bananas past.

Reigen, for what feels like the thousandth time, starts to drill Ritsu. “You have your phone? Your wallet?” “Yes, of course.” “Your chargers?” “Yeah, we-- wait.” It’s always worth double-checking the chargers. He leans down and partially unzips one of the pockets of the suitcase at his feet, and finding a horrifically tangled ball of two phone chargers and two laptop chargers exactly where they’d been when he’d last checked three minutes ago, nods. “Got the chargers.” Reigen still looks dissatisfied. Between his supply checks and Mob’s constant drifting back and forth from where the train schedule is posted, Ritsu thinks that the two of them are going to worrywart each other into a full blown panic. “Do you have your passport?” Ritsu blinks in confusion. “My passpo– Dad, we’re not fleeing the country!”

“Not yet!” Reigen replies, waving his arms frantically as if this is a legitimate possibility that Ritsu should’ve prepared for. He snorts and doesn’t reply, instead opting to mull over what’s more likely to get someone from his family deported from the country: Reigen’s scam business, or Teru’s fashion choices. While, sure, aspects of Reigen’s business are technically illegal, Teru’s outfits are simply in bad taste.

They hear the train before they see it, a distant chugging that breaks through the annoying bird noises and the vague chatter of the other people at the station. Around them, Ritsu sees most of the other people waiting on the platform straighten up, readjust their backpacks and jackets, start shifting around in anticipation. Surprisingly, Shou’s the same, pulling himself away from Ritsu’s side and blinking around them, looking fully awake for the first time that morning. Ritsu pushes down the handle on his little wheely case and hefts it onto his back, reaching out to take the larger suitcase from Mob. He’s not sure how he ended up carrying the most stuff, considering that out of the three bags they’ve brought, most of the stuff inside of them belongs to Shou. While Ritsu had only grabbed the bare necessities and a few jackets and shirts from his room, packing up Shou’s belongings had been a goddamn ordeal, including doing three loads of laundry from his already packed suitcase, and a two-hour long argument about whether or not it was appropriate to bring an entire desk lamp on a new move.

(“It’s my oldest friend!” Shou had argued, trying to wrestle it from Ritsu’s hands. “Six years I have known you, Suzuki, and never once has there been a working bulb in this lamp.”) Ritsu is eternally grateful that he doesn’t have a family that sobs as they send him off somewhere. The sadness he’s feeling is familiar, a pre-emptive homesickness that sinks into his stomach, makes him want to look around and take everything in so that he’ll remember the exact details of Seasoning City forever, makes him want to call the whole thing off and just stay home. Mob is smiling though, just a little, when he pulls him in for a hug, and all he feels from the aura that envelops him is warmth. “Be safe,” he murmurs into Ritsu’s shoulder. “Text me when you get there.” He receives quick but back-breaking hugs from Teru and Reigen that leave him gasping for air, but he finds that Shou got the short end of the Farewell Stick, because he looks over to see Mob giving him a hug that has him flailing with his feet a good few inches off the ground.

Reigen ushers them onto the train before they can be idiots and miss it, and Shou half climbs over Ritsu in the seats to wave out of the windows as the train starts to move. A quick jolt sends Shou sprawling, and it’s only bracing himself between the table and Ritsu’s shoulder that stops him from whacking his head on the window. Ritsu’s laughing even as he pushes Shou out of his lap, trying to get him to sit in his own goddamn seat for, oh, two minutes? Admittedly, there’s been an odd feeling of dread tinging his excitement, keeping him subdued over the past few days as they planned. It was the lingering worry that even though their plans, their situation, was becoming more and more concrete, that it wouldn’t actually happen. That some intangible, nonexistent problem would suddenly pop up and stop everything. He feels it settle, dissipate. He watches Shou move into the seats on the other side of the table, settling with his back against the window and his legs stretched out in front of him, and thinks, We’re actually doing this. It sounds almost stupidly awed to his own mind, and it’s threatening to put a giddy sort of smile on his face, and he manages to tamp down on it only because he knows that if Shou notices, he’ll ask about it, which will eventually lead to Ritsu being forced to admit that he’s feeling things, which, well, no.

Shou, for his part, manages to stay quiet and relatively still for all of three minutes before he starts fidgeting. He pulls out his phone, but seems to think better of it, because he puts it down in favour of looking over at Ritsu. “Can I borrow your phone?” On autopilot, he reaches into his pocket to hand it over, but stops himself. “Why…?” He asks, squinting, knowing he probably doesn’t want to know the answer. Shou leans over the table, making grabby hands at the phone, pouting when Ritsu moves his hand so that it’s just out of his reach. “Please? It’ll be funnier if I do it on yours!” On one hand, Shou’s desperation is kind of hilarious, and Ritsu isn’t sure he wants to know exactly what he’s planning. On the other hand, he’s got another ten hours on this train, and if he doesn’t give in now, Shou will literally carry on at him the entire time until he does. With a resigned sigh, he hands his phone over, and then groans when Shou immediately points it at him, obviously taking pictures. Instinctively, he flips Shou off, sending him a death glare, before looking at the camera and throwing up a peace sign with dead eyes. He relaxes when Shou finally puts the phone down and starts tapping away at the screen, and contents himself with staring out the window until Shou breaks the silence. “What the fuck is a Shigeo?” He asks, incredulous. Ritsu reaches out to try and snatch the phone back from Shou. “It’s my brother, you fuck, what are you sending to him?” Shou holds the phone out of his reach, contorting himself so that he can keep typing with it held above his head. Finally, he finishes and hands it back to Ritsu with a self-satisfied grin. Like the cat that got the cream, he thinks, and then two moments later, Oh god, what did he do. He taps in his passcode and finds his messaging app already open. TO: SHIGEO, TERUKI, DAD, YOUR FAVOURITE ;) [Picture Attached] [Picture Attached] we r. on the fuckin train.

FROM: DAD Language.

FROM: SHIGEO Be safe!!! <33

FROM: TERUKI Don’t look up anything inappropriate on his phone or he might kill you ;p

TO: SHIGEO, TERUKI, DAD, YOUR FAVOURITE ;) wow r00d TO: SHIGEO, TERUKI, DAD, YOUR FAVOURITE ;) I have my phone back. ignore him entirely.

FROM: YOUR FAVOURITE ;) WOW R00D

Shou, when he’s jetlagged at least, is a little like a windup toy.

He’ll run around at the speed of sound for a while, and talk your ear off given half the chance, but after a while he starts to grow noticeably… slower. Of course, he’ll protest the fact, still make a decent imitation of a hyperactive kitten, but all in all, it grows more sluggish until finally, inevitably, he keels over.

On the train? He doesn’t even last an hour. It’s easy to get drawn into a conversation with Shou, even easier to let him jump from topic to topic as something new strikes his fancy, and so Ritsu learns about Shou’s year overseas in a patchwork of unrelated information, one minute hearing about the godawful coffee served by this one particular Korean hotel, and the next about some strange western kids’ cartoon he’d seen at some ungodly hour of the morning. It’s always a fun little game with this, trying to piece together the snippets of information like puzzle pieces, except he’s working with about three different puzzles, and he can’t find any edge pieces. In this state, waving his arms around wildly to emphasize his points and cutting himself off every other sentence, Ritsu thinks it’s basically impossible to get a coherent story out of Shou. The probability goes even further down when Shou pauses mid-sentence to yawn. Ritsu finds himself yawning in response, but he manages to ask around it, “You tired?” Shou snorts. “Pff, nah. I’m great. I slept for like, seven hours yesterday.” Now, Ritsu, because he actually wanted to be awake in time to, oh, catch the train, had gone to bed at a half-decent time the previous night. He had, however, woken up for the bathroom at some point, and he knows for a fact that Shou is rather generously rounding up from not much more than three. While Shou looks awake, it’s a bad sort of awake, an ‘I really should be sleeping now oh god’ sort of awake, an ‘I am awake out of sheer determination not to be asleep’ sort of awake, the type of slow-blinking, faux-happy sort of awake that Ritsu forces after he’s just pulled an all-nighter for an essay. God, at least he’s usually had coffee or cereal or something. Shou, with a bad tendency to get nauseous in the mornings, hadn’t so much as been able to touch the water Ritsu had offered, let alone the leftover smoothie Teru had tried to shove in his face.

He tugs a jacket out of his bag and hands it over wordlessly. Shou eyes it for a moment, like a deer liable to be spooked, before reaching out and snatching it from him. There are a few moments of adjustments before he settles, arms folded on the table and the hoodie bundled on top of it as a pillow. Ritsu sees him blink heavily for a little before his eyes fall closed, and then he’s out like a light. He’s vaguely disturbed by how quickly Shou manages to fall asleep, especially in a weird position like that. Sure, he’d managed it back in high school, when his only options for quick naps had been to rest his head on the desk or risk it falling out of his cupped hands when he nodded off. Still, it had always left him stiff and vaguely sick, his stomach protesting being bent over in the single laziest yoga position in existence for any length of time. So, he doesn’t really understand why it’s Shou’s first choice, when there’s a perfectly good window right there. For his part, Ritsu isn’t quite drowsy enough to sleep, so he messes around on his phone for a while, switching from app to app until it buzzes with an email. FROM: [email protected] TO: [email protected]

Mr. Kageyama,

This email is to inform you that we have received your notification of residence change.

You will be required to vacate your dormitory at least one (1) week prior to the beginning of the new academic year, on June 30th. You must notify the University’s department of Student Housing within three (3) days of your vacating your dormitory. The department of Student Housing can be reached at +81-429-884915 .

Ritsu leans back and pulls one knee to his chest, sighing.

This was what it came down to, really, actually finding a place to live. Somewhere within walking distance of the university, with four walls, a roof, and a floor, two bedrooms, working plumbing, and included appliances. It seemed impossible. This, he had thought, this is where it will all come crashing down. And yet. They’d spent most of yesterday looking at online listings, emailing and calling landlords, setting up viewings. The less time spent in Ritsu’s dorm, the better, after all. They’d actually had to narrow down their choices, from ten to seven to about four or five places that they both agreed looked promising. He decides he might as well get something productive done while he’s here, and starts to tap out an email. FROM: [email protected] TO: [email protected]

Mr. Nishigori, My name is Kageyama Ritsu; we spoke a few days ago on the phone, about a possible tour of your apartment on Rye Street. My friend and I will be in town later tonight, and were hoping to set up a time as soon as possible. We would greatly appreciate if you could give us a set of times that work for your schedule over the next couple of days. Thank you for your time,

Kageyama Ritsu +81-9064625949

He sends a couple more emails along those lines, even gets a couple of replies, before it suddenly hits him again, this light, giddy feeling, like his heart is filled with helium and it’s trying to float into his throat. We’re actually doing this, he thinks, and stifles a vaguely hysterical giggle.

On instinct, he gives a cursory sweep of the train to make sure that nobody actually noticed the weirdo laughing to himself. Thankfully, the only other people in the compartment with them are a small family that seem to be occupying themselves with some travel game, the kind of “what can you see out of the window” tactic that his parents employed on him and Mob when they were kids in the car, and then a few more people scattered around in individual seats, either occupied by their own phones or fast asleep.

He’d shrugged on a thin hoodie this morning, to face the early morning chill as they walked to the station, but now that the sun has properly risen he finds himself uncomfortably warm and vaguely sweaty. He pulls it off, leaving it bunched at his back, and notes with absent interest that they’re driving through a forest of some sort. For the most part, the sun only manages to break through the foliage in bits and pieces, painting the compartment in shadowed, dappled greens. Occasionally though, there’ll be a gap in the trees allowing the sun to hit him. Right in the eyes. Inevitably, they chug past the forest, and Ritsu is left completely defenseless against the ball of burning hellfire in the sky. He tries holding his hand in the exact position needed to block it out, but, well, his arm gets tired pretty quickly. He tries draping his hoodie over his head, but the cavern of black fabric gets too hot to breathe in pretty quickly, and Ritsu has little-to-no interest in becoming a baked potato. He’s pretty sure this is a decent argument as to why they should’ve taken the night train, but whatever, he can’t really be bothered to wake Shou up to make a point.

Heaving a greatly put-upon sigh, he stands, steadying himself on the table. He grabs Shou’s backpack from the spare seat and chucks it unceremoniously across to where he was just sitting, and plops down beside Shou. Now that the sun isn’t making a concerted effort at blinding him, he can see the light glinting off of Shou’s hair, lighting it up like some sort of precious metal. There are a lot of dust motes floating around his head.

Shou only wakes up once in the next six or so hours, and then only briefly. By the three and a half hour mark, Ritsu has done everything he can think of to keep himself occupied, including looking for shapes in the clouds, doing terrible little stick figure doodles in his notebook, doing what little he can without wifi on his laptop (about fifty seven games of solitare, not that he’s keeping track,) and a short-lived and incredibly uncomfortable nap. He feels like he should be able to sleep, given the easy, lazy warmth of the train, given how easily Shou has been able to slip into it, the soft lines of his shoulders in his white shirt rising and falling as he breathes, blending seamlessly with the almost ethereal summer light.

He’d managed to entertain himself with his phone, for a little while, but once it had hit less than half battery he’d decided to turn it off and definitely not think about it at all, in case he needed to use it for something actually important.

So, he half jumps out of his skin when it starts vibrating like mad in his back pocket. He fumbles with it until he can see that Matsuo is calling him.

“Hey! Kageyama! My bro! Rumor around here is that you’re ditching us, bro!” Ritsu forces himself to bite back ‘I’m not your bro, bro,’ instead deciding on a polite, “Hello, Matsuo. Yes, I’m moving out.” “Ha, dude, nice! Did you score with some chick? Are you actually moving in with your girl? You always seemed like a player, bro!” Ritsu squints. How in the fuck would I strike anyone as a player? A movement to his left draws his attention, and he looks over to see Shou stirring, propping himself up on one elbow to blink blearily at Ritsu. There are red lines in the pattern of the hoodie fabric all over his cheek, and Ritsu has to hold back a laugh at the knockoff Two-Face vibes. He waves dismissively at Shou’s questioning look, a sort of ‘tell you in a minute’ kind of gesture that he hopes Shou understands. “Yeah, about that,” he starts, unsure how to breach the topic. “I’m actually moving in with a friend of mine, but he just got back from overseas, so neither of us actually have a place yet. Is it cool if he sleeps on the couch for the next couple of days, until we’re good?”

“Ha, I can do you one better, bro! Daichi’s still chillin’ with his girlfriend until the end of break, so your dude can just crash in his bed instead!” A pause, and then, “...Yo, Kageyama, is this buddy of yours the one that drank five Red Bulls when you were skyping him, like, to prove that he could?” Ritsu sighs. Naturally, Matsuo has his priorities straight. “Yes. Yes it is.” “Tell him I said hi, yo. He’s hardcore.” A hardcore dumbass, Ritsu thinks, but what manages to come out of his mouth is, “Will do. Thanks, Matsuo.” “Anytime, bro!” As soon as he hangs up he turns to Shou, who’s back at it with the questioning eyes in full force. He’s not quite upright anymore, having slipped downwards so that his head is half-pillowed between the crook of his elbow and the hoodie. Ritsu shakes his head, summarizing. “Just my roommate. He wanted to know if I was actually leaving. Also, Daichi’s gone, so you can take his bed until we get a place.” Shou nods, which is an action really more to the effect of rubbing his face against the jacket, but Ritsu gets the general idea.

“Daichi’s the one you sleep with, right?” He murmurs. “Again, phrasing, but yeah, he’s in my room. I emailed a few of the landlords for the places we were looking at, so hopefully we can decide within a couple days what we’re–” He interrupts himself, in favour of asking the real questions. “Are you… alright? Shou has buried his face entirely in the hoodie. Ritsu isn’t sure exactly how he can be breathing. After a few moments of complete silence, Shou turns his head back to face him. “Not to be creepy, but this jacket smells like your house. It’s. It’s good.”

Ritsu blinks, raises one eyebrow. He feels like he maybe should find that creepy, but it’s not the weirdest thing Shou has ever said to him, and in this state, delirious and actually nuzzling his jacket, it’s almost… is cute the right word for it? Flattering, maybe. Endearing. Something like that, some word he can’t name for the fond exasperation colouring his smile and his voice as he says, “Oh? And what does my house smell like?” “Hmmmmmmmmmn.” Shou makes a long noise of consideration, burrowing his nose into the fabric again. “Smells like you.”

He’s asleep again before Ritsu can even try to think of a response to that one.

He’d had to physically drag Shou away from Matsuo, who had a six pack of some godawful energy drink and some very, very bad ideas which were right up Shou’s avenue.

It feels oddly intimate, having Shou sitting across from him in a pair of faded Sonic boxer shorts on his tiny, creaky bed in his tiny, creaky dorm room. He’s cross-legged, coveting a pile of snacks he’d pillaged from the communal pantry in his lap, but he doesn’t complain when Ritsu snatches a chip from his hand every now and again. Ritsu’s been trying to keep them on-topic, but it’s difficult, when Shou’s been wound up again, and he’s bouncing off the walls. He chews thoughtfully for a moment, then asks, “Do you guys have any soda?” Ritsu sighs. “The last thing you need is more sugar.”

At that, Shou perks up, and then he’s gone, bouncing off of the bed and running to the other side of the room with a force that Ritsu thinks must’ve woken up everyone in the next three floors below them. Somehow, his pile of snacks is still on the bed, looking relatively undisturbed. He rummages around in the pockets of his backpack, dumped on top of his suitcase at the foot of Daichi’s bed, until he eventually comes up with– “Shou, no.”

Shou jumps back onto the bed, and this time, a granola bar goes flying. Shou doesn’t seem to notice, because all of his attention is on the bag of melted chocolate and broken dreams that used to be his mother’s cookies. “No, nonononono no,” Ritsu says as Shou starts to open the bag, and leans back so that he can dig his heels into Shou’s back and forcefully push him to the floor. Shou goes willingly, rolling onto his back with the cookies curled close to his chest, and giggling like a maniac. It makes him laugh in return, despite himself. “No. You eat that on Daichi’s bed, you little shit, or you get nothing.”

Shou already somehow covered in melted chocolate, scurries over to Daichi’s bed and hops on with an evil sort of grin that almost makes Ritsu feel sorry for Daichi, the poor ass. Ritsu dumps the rest of the snacks onto the floor and stretches out on his newly free bed. “As I was saying,” he begins, as if it hadn’t been twenty minutes since he’d last been derailed, “We’re looking at three apartments tomorrow, so we’ll need to leave here kind of early. I know a place we can get lunch. Most of the ones we’re looking at are pretty much fully furnished, so if we do decide on a place tomorrow, we might be able to talk the landlord into letting us sleep there tomorrow night. Especially if we can wave some money around, or whatever. If we can’t…” he sighs. “I can’t say I want to spend much more time here, but it won’t be the end of the world.” He turns his head to look at Shou. “Sound alright?” The look on Shou’s face is something Ritsu doesn’t get to see much out of him: awe. He’s staring, wide eyed and blank for a few beats before he seems to shake himself. “Yeah,” he says, firmly, and then, “Yeah, that’s…” this time, much less so. The silence hangs in the air, pensive and waiting to be filled, so Ritsu waits. Eventually, Shou rolls onto his back, staring resolutely at the ceiling. He starts. “You’re so… on top of this.” Ritsu bites back his immediate retort of ‘well, one of us has to be.’ It’s a joke, but from the vulnerable, almost reticent tone of Shou’s voice, he has the feeling it might hit a little too close to home. At a lack of response, Shou keeps going. “I guess I thought… I, I don’t know what I thought! I didn’t think I’d get this far, I didn’t think you’d agree to this in the first place! It was just some… some dumb idea I had that seemed fun in my head and you’re…” he waves his hands around in some gesture that could mean anything, that sends panic deep into Ritsu’s mind, because he’s sure that Shou is about to finish that sentence with “You’re actually taking this seriously.” What he says instead, is “...You’re actually making this work!” And then he puts voice to what Ritsu’s been thinking for almost a week now, spoken softly, like if one of them finally says it aloud, then, then is when it becomes real. “We’re really doing this.”

Ritsu breathes, “Yeah, we are.” It’s a stupid worry, really, but he can’t help but pray that this isn’t the moment Shou decides he regrets it.

“Thank you,” he says, and it’s almost painfully earnest. “I seriously don’t know how any of this stuff works, and I was just sort of going to, I don’t know, wing it? When I thought I was doing this on my own. But you’re just sort of… doing it. We’re actually looking at apartments tomorrow. And I’m…” And this time, Ritsu can’t resist the jab. “Lying on my roommate’s bed covered in chocolate?” Luckily, neither can Shou. “At least I’ll always bring the sex appeal to our duo,” he says, glancing quickly over at him with a barely veiled grin. “Hm. Debatable.” “Hey!” Ritsu makes himself turn towards Shou, after a while, propping himself up on his elbow. “It’s fine, you know. That you’re not really doing the organizing stuff.” Before he can tell himself not to, he more or less blurts, “I wouldn’t want to do it half as much if it were anyone other than you.” Shou hasn’t moved, hasn’t looked away from the ceiling above him, and Ritsu doesn’t think Shou knows he’s watching him, because the smile that spreads across his face, slowly, and then like a flashbang, like a grenade, God, it could’ve outshone the sun. Shou laughs, a small, shaky thing. “Well, someone has to provide the comic relief.”

#fic: aubade #jack writes #mp100 #mp100 fic #ritshou #iTS FUC K I N G DONE #i would seriously recommend reading on ao3 tho #my formatting gets fucked by tumblr #and my author's notes don't get transferred bc i cant be bothered

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avecorviidae · 4 years

Text

Fic: Aubade - Chapter Five

Fandom: Mob Psycho 100 Rating: M Relationship(s): Kageyama Ritsu/Suzuki Shou Word Count: 4703

Ao3 Link

There were six trains leaving Seasoning Station on the day they set off: two in the morning, and four in the afternoon.

So, their little group had ended up huddled together on the platform, waiting sleepily for the 9 AM train to pull in.

FROM: DAD Language.

FROM: SHIGEO Be safe!!! <33

FROM: TERUKI Don’t look up anything inappropriate on his phone or he might kill you ;p

TO: SHIGEO, TERUKI, DAD, YOUR FAVOURITE ;) wow r00d TO: SHIGEO, TERUKI, DAD, YOUR FAVOURITE ;) I have my phone back. ignore him entirely.

FROM: YOUR FAVOURITE ;) WOW R00D

Shou, when he’s jetlagged at least, is a little like a windup toy.

Mr. Kageyama,

This email is to inform you that we have received your notification of residence change.

Ritsu leans back and pulls one knee to his chest, sighing.

Mr. Nishigori, My name is Kageyama Ritsu; we spoke a few days ago on the phone, about a possible tour of your apartment on Amaranth Street. My friend and I will be in town later tonight, and were hoping to set up a time as soon as possible. We would greatly appreciate if you could give us a set of times that work for your schedule over the next couple of days. Thank you for your time,

Kageyama Ritsu +81-9064625949

So, he half jumps out of his skin when it starts vibrating like mad in his back pocket. He fumbles with it until he can see that Matsuo is calling him.

He’s asleep again before Ritsu can even try to think of a response to that one.

He’d had to physically drag Shou away from Matsuo, who had a six pack of some godawful energy drink and some very, very bad ideas which were right up Shou’s avenue.

“As I was saying,” he begins, as if it hadn’t been twenty minutes since he’d last been derailed, “We’re looking at three apartments tomorrow, so we’ll need to leave here kind of early. I know a place we can get lunch. Most of the ones we’re looking at are pretty much fully furnished, so if we do decide on a place tomorrow, we might be able to talk the landlord into letting us sleep there tomorrow night. Especially if we can wave some money around, or whatever. If we can’t…” he sighs. “I can’t say I want to spend much more time here, but it won’t be the end of the world.” He turns his head to look at Shou. “Sound alright?” The look on Shou’s face is something Ritsu doesn’t get to see much out of him: awe. He’s staring, wide eyed and blank for a few beats before he seems to shake himself. “Yeah,” he says, firmly, and then, “Yeah, that’s…” this time, much less so. The silence hangs in the air, pensive and waiting to be filled, so Ritsu waits. Eventually, Shou rolls onto his back, staring resolutely at the ceiling. He starts. “You’re so… on top of this.” Ritsu bites back his immediate retort of ‘well, one of us has to be.’ It’s a joke, but from the vulnerable, almost reticent tone of Shou’s voice, he has the feeling it might hit a little too close to home. At a lack of response, Shou keeps going. “I guess I thought… I, I don’t know what I thought! I didn’t think I’d get this far, I didn’t think you’d agree to this in the first place! It was just some… some dumb idea I had that seemed fun in my head and you’re…” he waves his hands around in some gesture that could mean anything, that sends panic deep into Ritsu’s mind, because he’s sure that Shou is about to finish that sentence with “You’re actually taking this seriously.” What he says instead, is “...You’re actually making this work!” And then he puts voice to what Ritsu’s been thinking for almost a week now, spoken softly, like if one of them finally says it aloud, then, then is when it becomes real. “We’re really doing this.”

Ritsu breathes, “Yeah, we are.” It’s a stupid worry, really, but he can’t help but pray that this isn’t the moment Shou decides he regrets it.

#/#//#///#////#/////#robin fic #mp100 fic #fic: aubade

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