#i think everyone involved needs a huge ass reality check because even though somehow that movie managed to get $30m | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

steppedoffaflight · 3 years

Text

Summer’s a Knife - Chapter 15

Catch up on Chapter 14 here

You’re kicking yourself for taking these last months for granted, for thinking that that was what it meant to miss a busy Van. Pining and pouting over a Van that you basically saw once a week? That wasn’t so exhausted from back-to-back shows that he made time to call, or at least respond to your texts? Who spent enough time in one place that you could actually go visit him on tour?

You’re missing your best friend like crazy.

Word count: ~3.3k

A/N: I can’t believe there’s only two chapters left after this! Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who’s taken the time to read this, and endless thank you’s to everyone who has reached out with feedback ❤️

Chapter Fifteen September 2019

Fall in California doesn’t look the same as it does in Michigan, but you wish it did. Although you’re glad winters here only involve mild weeks in the fifties and sixties, you do miss the atmosphere of gray, rainy September days, leaves shriveling up and falling off of the trees, and changing out your wardrobe into something cozier. Sure, the pumpkin spice trend is still active, but pumpkin spice lattes don’t taste the same with eighty degree temperatures and the shining sun.

Maybe you’re homesick because you’re desperate for your surroundings to match your insides.

Van wasn’t kidding about the band’s workload this month. You’re kicking yourself for taking these last months for granted, for thinking that that was what it meant to miss a busy Van. Pining and pouting over a Van that you basically saw once a week? That wasn’t so exhausted from back-to-back shows that he made time to call, or at least respond to your texts? Who spent enough time in one place that you could actually go visit him on tour?

You had been so naive. So, so, fucking naive. And September was absolute torture to prove it. And it would feel much, much better to slog through this month on rainy sidewalks crusted with damp leaves, a crisp breeze trying to sneak through the seams of your coat.

But instead the world just spins on, leaving you behind. September is a new beginning for many people, who gladly chatter about it everywhere they go. UCLA students are starting to return to the area, bouncing around in their backpacks with iced coffees, and at work your co-workers are returning from their eventful summers refreshed and ready to end the year with a bang. There are back-to-school sales on everything, from spin classes to puppies in a petstore window, and the happier everyone is about the new season the more alone you feel.

Because that’s a great way to sum up how you feel, really: alone. It was the fucking worst. You’d never been someone who had a problem being alone! You’d purposely decided to live alone; you had practically skipped for joy down the sidewalks when you’d broken up with your last boyfriend. You had a nice friend group with the other girls at work, and of course you had Mary, so what else could an independent woman like you need? Certainly not a boyfriend or a girlfriend to make you feel fulfilled. Things wouldn’t even be different if Van was your boyfriend, you try to convince yourself. He’d still be busy. You’d still be rooted in L.A.. You’d still be just as depressed as you are right now.

You don’t believe that one bit.

Got that reservation, Van texts you one night after a rare phone call. You’d asked him to try and get Mary and Theo a table for their anniversary, and apparently he’d pulled through. You beam to yourself as he sends another text with the reservation information, and then decide to give Mary a call.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Is Mary’s greeting. “Has Van kidnapped you?”

You don’t have the heart to tell her it’s the opposite, actually. You’re so trapped in your lonely self-pity you don’t really have the energy or desire to socialize with others right now. In your heart right now, it’s Van or bust.

“Maybe,” You joke, although you feel like you don’t sound very convincing. “Speaking of Van, he might happen to have a reservation next week that he can’t make…” You grin as your voice trails off, “And maybe he accidentally made the reservation under your name?”

Mary audibly gasps down the line. “He got us a table?” She squeals, but you can hear she’s trying to hold back her excitement until she knows for sure.

“I might have called in a favor from him,” You laugh as you listen to Mary’s excitement at your confirmation.

“He is an absolute angel,” She gushes. “You need to marry him, like, now.”

You’re sure that this time your laugh definitely sounds hollow. You’ve never admitted your love for Van, even though Mary questions you about it regularly and never seems convinced with your denials. While you usually tell her everything, your feelings for Van have always felt like a giant bruise, something best not exposed. You don’t think you could stand the teasing, or Mary’s typical meddling. And right now, considering your heart is one oozing wound, you’re thankful for your own secret-keeping.

“I just wanted to let you know,” You start to wind down the conversation. Your phone has pinged with another text from Van, and you don’t want to waste this opportunity to catch up with him. “I’ll screenshot the reservation stuff and text you.”

“Tell Van I said thank you! We said thank you. Like, seriously. He’s amazing.”

You two say goodbye and you relay the message to Van over text, before responding to the message he’d just sent. Sam Fender’s album was out tomorrow, and there would be a huge bash at his Hollywood house the following weekend, which the band wouldn’t be in the States to attend. Van was clearly bummed about the whole thing, and you were too. You wonder if Sam and his friends remembered you from the party, or if you’ve faded from everyone’s memory. You wish there was a way for you to reach out to him and congratulate him.

Get your cheque yet? Van asks when the conversation about Sam has run its course.

Right. The insurance check. Yup, you respond, frowning to yourself in dismay. A whole $5,000. Yippee.

You couldn’t believe that’s all you’d received from the insurance debacle. You’d purchased the car for $12,000 from a dealer, worked your ass to pay it off over the years, and now the insurance company had awarded you less than half of the cost of the car to somehow give you the means to buy a new one. And it’d be almost impossible to find something in good shape for that price that was also an automatic, because you grew up in Michigan, where people were not obsessed with driving stick shifts.

Least you’ve got the rover.

Right. The Range Rover. The one scrap of Van you could cling to during this awful time.

The next time you have to pass that stupid petshop with their stupidly cute puppies in the window on your walk back to the office after lunch, you decide to send a pic to Van: Yes or no to me getting a puppy.

Which one?

Holy fuck, he responded in less than twelve hours. It’s your lucky day.

I’m thinking that little fuzzy gray one.

I’d be supremely jealous. He’s cute and I love dogs.

Van is a terrible influence. You’re ashamed to admit you stall in front of the window for longer than necessary, looking at the little gray puppy with the pointed ears bounce around in the playpen before forcing yourself to move along. A puppy would probably be good for you, honestly, but that’s not a decision you should make on impulse.

Miss you, says another text from Van. Then another: Might be in town on Tuesday? Fingers crossed the flights work out.

Unfortunately, they do not.

The flights do, however, work out for Thursday. That’s a fact you only discover after coming home from work and heading into your bedroom to change, only to trip over two rolling suitcases and realize there’s a Van-sized lump sleeping in your bed.

“What’re you doing?” Van mumbles, peeking his head out from under the blankets as you swear up a storm.

“What are you doing?” You shout, your toes throbbing. You’d accidentally kicked one of his rolling suitcases across the bedroom hardwood, and your toes were aching from the impact. On its way across the bedroom that suitcase had bumped the other, causing it to fall like a domino. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here?”

A slow grin spreads over Van’s face. “I wanted to surprise you!”

“By making my room an obstacle course?” You huff, lifting the fallen suitcase upright and rolling both of them out of the way into a corner.

Van’s sleepy state inhibits him from arguing, and he tucks his head back under the comforter.

“God, you scared the shit out of me,” You continue, your adrenaline still pumping from the fright and the pain. “I regret making you a key. I want it back.”

“Shut up,” Comes Van’s muffled voice.

“You shut up,” You bite back, but as the throbbing in your toes die down your irritation is replaced with the realization that this is reality, that Van is actually in your fucking bed at this moment. “I missed you,” You announce suddenly, your voice a lot softer.

Van peeks his head out again. His hair is a ruffled, oily mess as he beams at you. “I missed you more.”

“Bet you didn’t. Bet you forgot about me while you were doing cool band stuff.”

“Oh, did I? Wonder who I was texting Sam about, then.”

At this your jaw drops. “You did what?”

“I told him I was sorry I was leaving town tomorrow, and you said congratulations. And he asked how you were. Bond and him wanna do a celebratory pub night down in Newcastle.”

“No fair!” You pout, stomping your foot like a child. “You’re gonna celebrate without me?”

“Get your passport!” Van cries, throwing one of his arms up in exasperation before flopping back down on the bed. “Come with us!”

Getting your passport is a pain you’re reluctant to go through. You sigh. Maybe you’d try during the holidays back in Michigan, where the lines at the post office weren’t practically out the door everyday. Even if things with Van are over by then, Mary’s been trying to talk you into an overseas vacation for a while.

“You’re leaving tomorrow?” You decide to narrow in on that fact, pushing passport thoughts aside.

“Tomorrow night,” Van confirms. “Drop me off after work?”

“Of course.” If you only had him for these twenty-four hours, you were gonna milk every second you had.

Van is completely wiped from touring, and spends his entire time at your place in the same sweats. He gets out of bed the next morning to shower and have a cup of coffee with you, but other than that he’s glued to the mattress, getting some much-needed rest.

But even when he’s tired, Van is fun to be around. When you’re exhausted from work it means that your job has sapped every last bit of joy from you, leaving you without any desire to be creative, go out with friends, or try to be in a good mood. With Van, it’s like he would keep going if his body allowed him. He talks about tour fondly, still expresses excitement about starting on the new album, and still manages to pluck at your guitar from his nesting spot in bed. He’s the same Van; the only difference is the constant yawning and the way the lines around his eyes are more defined. Oh, and the lack of energy for any fooling around.

That last part doesn’t even cross your mind until you’re on your way home from the airport. You were so content just to have him around that you totally forgot how much you’d been using your vibrator lately.

But even with how content you were for that blissful twenty-four hours, as soon as you’ve stepped in the door to your empty house the aching in your heart returns. In your time apart all the little details about Van had gone fuzzy in your mind; his scent on your pillow, how it takes a cup of coffee in the morning for his voice to stop cracking. But remembering them makes everything sting with a vengeance, and you’re left feeling shittier than you have all month.

There’s been a nagging feeling creeping around the edges of your brain like a fog, and as much as you’ve been trying to deny it, it’s hard tonight. It’s just that everything with Van has started to hurt, and you’re not sure it’s ever going to go away. His schedule over the summer was flexible, but even after this intense bout of touring he’d be busy with recording. And then the band would be vigorously promoting and touring that album, and so on, forever, because Van would never stop making music, you were sure of that.

The tears well up in your eyes even thinking about not having him around. Despite your crushing adoration for him, he really is your best friend, and the idea of losing his friendship makes your heart clench in agony, the tears spilling over. But it’s not really a fair friendship when only one of you is crying about it, is it? Van doesn’t have to hurt like this, because his heart isn’t invested in you like yours is in him.

You allow yourself an indulgent self-pity cry as you make your bed, rumpled from Van’s napping, and climb in. You figure if you’re going to have a pity party for yourself you might as well do it right, and switch your pillow out for his so you can smell the smoke he leaves everywhere he goes. You know that as happy as you are when he’s around, there’s no way you can keep crying over someone when leaving is as much of their job as sending emails is to yours.

That’s why when Van pops in for another impromptu visit the following Tuesday, you’re not as happy to see him as you usually would be. It’s the same way that the idea of next morning’s hangover can ruin a night out, except with Van there’s no magical way to handicap your brain from thinking about the future.

The sex comes close, though. As soon as you two get to your place after picking him up he tosses his backpack aside before cornering you against the front door.

“I fucking missed you,” He practically growls in your ear, and holy fuck it’s been so long. You two rush for the bedroom, peeling off clothes as you go. Van is too impatient to worry about unbuttoning his shirt and simply peels it over his head, while you unclasp your own bra to avoid the delay. Before you know it you’re on your back, the blankets falling away from Van’s shoulders as he thrusts into you with all he’s got, your headboard banging against the wall so loudly you almost worry about damaging it. When you come it’s intensely satisfying, and you pull Van’s hair ridiculously hard to prove it. In retaliation he bites down on your shoulder as he comes, the same as he did the first time you ever slept with him.

The whole world feels right for that magical half hour, and then as you both lay on your backs trying to process what’s happened it all starts to shift again.

“When are you leaving, again?” You ask the ceiling, your voice stiff.

“Thursday morning,” He croaks. “Gotta get to Salt Lake City.”

You start to roll yourself up, heading for the bathroom. “Right.”

You feel Van’s body tense under the sheets next to you. “You alright?”

“Yup,” You tell him, emerging from the bed. You’re not convincing in the slightest, and Van can clearly tell. You don’t give him time to question you before leaving the bedroom.

“What’d I do?” You startle when you hear Van’s footsteps following behind you to the bathroom.

“Nothing.” You almost laugh at how ridiculous you sound.

Van hasn’t even bothered to throw boxers on, leaning in the bathroom doorway with his softening dick on display. He sighs. “Wanna step out for a smoke?”

You’re actually craving the fuck out of a cigarette, but you’d rather just go to bed and have this night be over with. Maybe tomorrow you’d be more able to enjoy Van’s presence, rather than pouting over how it’s rapidly coming to an end as soon as it began. “I’m fine,” You tell him. Your voice sounds less sharp and more resigned. It wasn’t his fault, after all.

Van shakes his head. He uses the toilet when you’re done, tosses on the sweatpants he had rolled in his backpack, and heads out onto the porch alone.

In his absence you scold yourself for acting like this. What the fuck were you doing? Ruining the two nights you had him, because of something that wasn’t anybody’s fault? You remake the bed, mentally giving yourself a stern talking to.

“You wanna talk about what’s wrong now?” Van’s voice makes you jump out of your skin.

“Nothing’s wrong,” You insist again, but your voice betrays you.

“Something is,” Van argues. “I’ve been watching you fluff that pillow for ages.”

At his words you realize your hands are still gripping the corner of your pillowcase, and you unclench your fists.

Van steps into the room, and to your mortification you feel your eyes heat up with warm tears.

“It’s been a long day,” You lie. It’s been a long fucking summer. “And I’m PMSing.”

Van frowns in sympathy, starting to climb back into bed. “Need a cuddle?”

A cuddle sounds like the equivalent of doing an entire round of shots by yourself when you’re already dreading the hangover.

“Yeah,” You sniff. “I do.”

On Thursday morning Van gets you up even earlier than your alarm clock, one of his hands nudging your thighs apart. You expect him to get on top of you once you’re more fully awake, yawning and wiggling around to get more comfortable, but instead you feel his calloused fingertip press against your entrance.

“Oh,” You sigh in surprise as he slips into you, searching out your good spots by touch alone. When he slips a second finger in, angling himself right, you clench down on instinct. “Yeah,” You breathe, blinking up at him sleepily. He’s watching your face intently, and if you were even slightly more awake you’d be horrifically self conscious. “You got it right.”

You can’t remember the last time you were fingered as the entree of the sex, rather than the appetizer. It’s appallingly intimate to have Van’s face so close to yours, breathing in any noises you make and watching every slight expression change in the darkness of your room. You’re also appalled at how you’ve been completely robbed of his talents; he can sense exactly where you’re throbbing for him, your clit twitching against the pad of his thumb when he applies pressure right where your body has been screaming for it. It barely takes any time with his thumb working in tiny circles and his fingers pressing into you hard before you’re gasping for air, drowning under the waves of your orgasm that feels like it’s radiating from both areas, whimpering Van’s name helplessly.

As soon as you’re flinching from his touch he pulls his hand away, his fingers slipping into his mouth so he can clean them off.

“Holy shit.” Your lungs are still desperate for air, but you haul him in for a sloppy kiss, paying no attention to the taste of yourself on his tongue. “I’m gonna miss you.”

Van lets out a deep, throaty laugh at that, but you’re already pushing him backwards so that he’s laying flat. You’re way too sensitive for sex, but you jerk him off and let him come on the soft skin on the inside of your thighs, as a treat.

After you drop him off at the airport, both of you looking slightly disheveled due to having to rush to get ready, you sigh to yourself in the empty car. You hated how weak you were when it came to him. One minute you’re convincing yourself you need to stop hanging around him, and the next you’re telling yourself there is absolutely no way you can give up the best sex you’ve ever had.

It was quite the conundrum.

#summer's a knife #catfish and the bottlemen fanfiction #van mccann #catb #catb fic #vanfic #van mccann fic #van mccann fanfiction #Catfish and the Bottlemen

26 notes · View notes

moviegroovies · 4 years

Text

so i know i’m breaking like, this unspoken vow of silence re: the movie by making this post but this IS a movie blog and i did watch the last airbender. and can i just say. holy fucking shit.

y’all know i like a lot of bad movies. knowing that, take me seriously when i say: this is a BAD movie. and not in a good way. i went into it with no expectations except morbid curiosity and i was STILL let down. i wanted to hate watch it, and yeah, i hated watching it, but it wasn’t even fun to hate. i just hated it.

don’t watch the last airbender.

if you’re like me and you just wanted to know exactly how bad it was, please benefit from my mistakes. read my fun funky rant and then never think of that movie again. put it out of your mind. rewatch boiling rock. love yourself.

anyway.

pretty much the one and only thing i knew about why it was bad going in was that it was whitewashed; that’s like the only thing anyone ever mentions in conjecture with this movie, when they mention it at all. knowing this, going in knowing full well that the casting department did crimes against humanity, i was still shocked and disturbed at the sight of white katara and white sokka. literally... that casting choice was a hate crime. look them up (or check out my last post) if you need to see it for yourself... it’s bad y’all. somehow i had braced myself for white aang, but before i saw it with my own two eyes i couldn’t believe that they would actually whitewash katara and sokka, And Yet. the really stupid thing is that it’s not even “””justified””” IN UNIVERSE; most of the members of the southern water tribe are played by asian actors, meaning that they didn’t even pull a pan and make the WHOLE southern water tribe white, they just made sokka and katara mysteriously “special” in a spectacularly poor judgement call.

actually, that’s another thing. outside the northern water tribe (which is also mostly white... i’m wondering if sokka and katara are white because gran gran--a white woman in the movie--is from the north? anyway it’s a moot point either way because none of them should be white, there are NO WHITE CHARACTERS IN THE SHOW AVATAR, jesus FUCKING christ), most of the extras and background characters are played by actors of color, particularly asian actors, which would be accurate to the show’s canon. maybe m night shyamalan or someone else involved in the making of this shitshow of a movie thought that this would somehow absolve the whitewashing of the main characters, but in reality i’d argue that it makes it even worse; by having characters mostly played by people of color continuously being saved by three little white bitches, the movie goes HARD on the white savior trope, and also just generally uses these actual, living people as exploitative, orientalist set dressing for this 1 hour and 43 minutes of special hell.

with one notable exception: prince zuko is played by an actor of color--specifially, dev patel. (who is himself miscast, considering how zuko and the fire nation are japanese-coded, but the second they opened on that veruca salt looking ass bitch calling herself katara any hope that the makers of this movie gave any consideration to the racial coding avatar introduced went right out the window.) which adds Another layer of racism to this already inconceivably bad fuckup of a movie; how strange, that the movie’s racebending made all three heroes white, but the primary antagonist (as well as the secondary antagonist, zhao, and the mostly-off-screen-but-still-present ozai) is a man of color. what an odd coincidence. hmmmm.

i hate this movie. i do want to note, though, that dev patel’s inclusion was the only thing that actually got me through the whole thing; i have no idea why he was in this film (he’s FAR too talented for the content he was given and no one else in the entire cast went even one sixteenth as hard as he did) but he was its one saving grace. still, though, even he couldn’t save it. he was so cute and he did his damn best with probably the worst script in the history of film... but he was still in THIS film. since the release of this movie, patel has spoken out against his role in it and the world of hollywood blockbusters in general, and to that i say... good for him.

i was going for zuko though. this time it was like YES baby CAPTURE that avatar. full stop.

so yes, it was horribly miscast, whitewashed to hell and back, and went with a racist white hero/villains of color cast as a backdrop. all of these things, in themselves, are enough to completely condemn the movie, and my work here might as well be done... except to end it there would be to leave one million other glaring flaws unexamined. and i refuse to let any rock be unturned.

because, like, it’s NOT just bad because of the whitewashing. the whitewashing and the other racist elements are huge PARTS of why this is a bad movie, but even if this movie was made with an accurate and un-whitewashed cast, it would STILL be a bad movie, and i need you all to know this.

starting from the top: they ruined katara and sokka.

well, they ruined them the second they cast them the way they did. but again, let’s say they cast someone else. let’s say they cast appropriate actors for the rolls, but the level of acting skill and the script they used was the same. even in this case, they would have RUINED katara and sokka. none of the characters in this movie are 100% recognizable (and i’ll keep repeating it: the casting DID NOT HELP), but katara and sokka got hit the hardest and the worst. the things that sokka should have brought to the table (his goofy attitude, his intelligence) were erased, and the “sokka” we were given instead was a jerkass buzzkill who might have occasionally been the butt of a joke, but was never actually intended to be funny in his own right. reflecting on the series, it’s kind of as if we got his characterization from the first episode (before sokka got any development and was, i guess, kind of a jerkass buzzkill) and never strayed from that, which would be bad enough, but i think even episode ONE sokka was more fun and dynamic than White Sokka™. mistakes were made.

but it was even WORSE for katara. katara’s righteous anger was all but erased. SOKKA was the one who broke the avatar out of the ice, and only because they accidentally happened upon him--katara didn’t get to be angry at sokka’s jerkass sexism and unconsciously fuck up an entire iceberg. katara NEVER got to be angry. in fact, most of katara’s moments were taken and distributed between aang and sokka; aang, for instance is the one who inspires the earthbenders to break out of prison. we don’t even see katara train with master pakku, and SHE was the one who actually became a waterbending master when they went to the north pole. in this movie, katara mostly existed to talk about ~hope~ (very ember island players, lmfao) and hug aang when he went into the avatar state.

by the way, that prison? it’s not the metal platform in the middle of the ocean we got in the show. it’s just... an enclosed village. surrounded by dirt and earth. and the earthbenders never tried to break out until aang came along and told them to? hmmmm....

Unfortunate Implications™, but what did you expect.

other than that, idk. the writing was so fucking bad, y’all. a significant chunk of the plot relies on the “as you know” trope, in which characters have an expository discussion about something everyone present should already be aware of and wouldn’t need to get into. this normally wouldn’t bother me THAT much, if i noticed it at all (exposition is essential, after all, and you only have so much time in a movie, so i guess it makes sense when you’re trying to compress an entire season of a show into one), except like... it’s ridiculous. i couldn’t ignore it, they just hit the hammer so hard. “as you know, this is what the avatar is. as you know, zuko was exiled after fighting an agni kai with his father. as you know...”

bleh.

after that, i guess all my complaints are a little more pedantic. some smaller things that made the movie unwatchable: the bending motions were super weird and i think sped up? there were perfectly good martial arts moves right there waiting for them, and shyamalan fucked even THAT up in an effort to... what? make it look more “mystical?” bitch i’ll kill you. also, for reasons completely unfathomable to me, some of the names were pronounced oddly despite being said one million times in the show. “aah-ng” “ee-roh” “soh-ka” “ahvatar.” literally... why.

i’ve been thinking “soh-ka” in my head for like two weeks. hideous.

and one last thing, which really DOESN’T matter in comparison to what they did to the human characters, but like... what fucking happened to appa?? why did they do that to him?

don’t watch the last airbender.

#the last airbender #text post #katara #sokka #zuko #aang #hideous bad movie time

15 notes · View notes

buckysforeverprincess · 5 years

Text

Switch -Part 2

Bucky Barnes x Reader, Avengers

Words: 2097

Warnings: Language, female presenting nipples, sexual situations

A/N: I decided to make this a 3 part thing, because part 2 was extremely long and I wanted this to have it’s own moment. The smut comes in part 3. Enjoy.

No one knew what to say. Everything screamed Y/N! The voice, the body all of it. Nothing outwardly had changed. Steve and Sam just thought Y/N had gone crazy, and Wanda and Nat both crossed their arms and smirked. You decided to take a seat on the counter and wait for the fireworks to really begin.

“Morning all-what the hell, Y/N?!” Tony has finally made his way to the common area to join everyone for breakfast. He missed the initial scream but is now here for the show that is the now ‘The Winter Soldier: Body Snatcher’. “Have too much fun with the playboy last night and forget your clothes?!” The genius goes straight for the coffee maker deciding he needed more of it before having to deal with the events unfolding in the kitchen.

“Morning Barnes!” Tony gives a casual nod to you sitting on the counter. You take a sip of the liquid in the cup, and immediately Tony notices something is off.

“Since when do you drink coffee, ice king...and in Y/N’s cup, no less?”

The only thing you can do is shrug and wait for the others to catch on.

“You!” Bucky turns his direction to the Scarlet Witch, “you did this to me, didn't you?!” Bucky's in her face at this point, but it's not as intimidating as it would be if he was in his super soldier body. She can't help but laugh at his efforts.

“I have no idea what you're talking about!” Wanda laughs in his face, repeating the same words he has said to her many times after playing one of his jokes on her.

“Don't lie to me you witch! This is payback for yesterday isn't it?”

“Wait…” Sam stops Wanda from answering, having questions of his own, “Y/N...what could she have possibly done to you? I mean...did she make you hotter? Because damn girl! That ass though!!”

“Did you just fucking objectify my girlfriends body?” Bucky moves and is now in Sam’s face pointing a finger at him.

“I mean-you are, ya know wearing a thong and I'm a man that loves ass dimples!”

Steve has now started laughing hysterically and has doubled over from laughing so hard. Tony makes his way from the coffee to check out the look Bucky is sporting so he's not left out.

“Those are really nice. Perfect for hand placement-”

“Don't fucking finish that thought, tin man, so help me God!” Bucky has directed his finger Tony’s way.

The whole group is laughing sans Bucky. He's getting more and more pissed off with each passing moment, and you're just sitting there…on the counter, enjoying your coffee. No need to get involved quite yet. This is way too much fun.

“Someone needs to explain what the hell is going on!” Bucky demands, crossing his arms to his chest and covering your exposed breasts, standing like a petulant child. Thank god you don't have issues with your body, because this could've become awkward real fast.

“Y/N…why don't you tell us what it is you remember.” Nat says very calmly, not giving away how much she already knows.

Bucky scans the room taking in all the faces looking at him obviously thinking he was crazy, before he starts to recant what he can recall. “I remember going to bed with Y/N, in my body! James Buchanan Barnes, aka Winter Soldier, me! This morning, I wake up and I'm her! This is not my body!” He pointing to himself trying to emphasize the point.

“Definitely a nice ass body!” Sam says, and Steve gives him an elbow to the gut.

“So, someone switched your body?” Steve questions, not sure if he believes what he's hearing.

They've been pranked by Bucky too many times to count, so this could be just another of one his tricks having his girlfriend in on it. There's going to have to be a lot more convincing than just his word.

“Ugh! I don't understand how I'm in a room full of people who continually save the world, but all of you are way too fucking stupid to see what's in front of you!”

You bust out laughing like a damn hyena from the counter. Everyone has now directed their looks to you and Wanda does a faceplant with her hand. Everything had been going so well.

“Baby, do you realize what you just said?” You say in between laughs. “You're what's in front of them...you! They can clearly see you!”

If looks could kill, you'd be dead. James/you is glaring hard at you/him. He has your face so bunched up, you're pretty sure he's going to give you permanent wrinkles on your forehead.

Bucky stalks up to you, paying no mind to everyone else in the room. “You're being unsarcastically hyper nonverbal!” He yells at you with fire in his eyes. “What is it that you know?”

This is where the fun begins, and payback becomes the worst bitch imaginable. You hop off the counter and stand over Bucky. You can see what it looks like when roles are reversed and he's towering over you. Let the games commence.

“Well, I know that right now…your tits are showing because you chose to wear that ridiculous quarter of a shirt to bed. I'm also aware of the fact that Sam had begun sexualizing you since the moment he saw you in that thong. How did you seriously let me buy that for you, you hate thongs?! But I will agree with him...that ASS though! The suddenness of the amount of crazy you've displayed here this morning can only mean one thing…...you're due to start your period any second now. I'm sorry sweetie, I'll make sure I run out and get your favorite kind of ice cream. Other than that,…good morning my love. Coffee?” You give him a grin, but this just upsets him even more.

Bucky laughs at you, but there's an intense amount of anger in his eyes. You watch him continue to laugh as he walks over to Wanda and gets back in her face.

“I don't know what you did, but it somehow involved my girlfriend over there!” Bucky’s pointing at you now. “I will find out the truth…but for now...I really have to go pee!”

Bucky turns and stomps back to your room.

“Sweetheart!” You yell out before he makes it through the threshold, making him stop and look over his shoulder waiting for you to speak. “Always overnight or extra heavy? Oh, how about tampons this time, I can get those?”

Bucky inhales a deep breath and throws up a middle finger at you without even batting an eye, and continues into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

“So, spill ice age...what'd you do to our sweet Y/N?” Tony’s grabbed a bagel and is spreading cream cheese on it.

“I really have no idea what's going on!” You're trying to look as puzzled as possible to avoid further questioning.

“I hate to admit this, but I have to go with Tony on this one…,” Sam has made his way into the center of the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of juice, “you're both acting crazy this morning. Did something happen between you two?”

The door to the bedroom opens and once again Bucky/you comes out, but this time he's managed to find your extremely short black mini skirt, and blue midriff shirt. Oh, looks like he found a bra…but what about...oh you dirty asshole!

“Baby?” Bucky walks over and places his/your ass right up against the shorts he slept in last night and rubs himself up and down the front of you. “I'm so sorry for the way I behaved.” His movements becoming hotter by the second. “I didn't mean to cause a scene. I promise to do better daddy!”

The last words were all it took, and you were now fully turned on, Bucky's cock standing at attention. How in the fuck did that happen? God damn him for being an expert in kinky fuckery!

“Oh daddy…did I do that?!” Bucky turns around and faces you, taking his hand and rubbing the hard member through your shorts.

“Fuck…” It comes out as a whisper, but Bucky hears it and keeps rubbing you with his hands.

No one was moving. They're all stuck in place watching what's happening between the two of you. Normally, you guys would disappear at this point, so no one was traumatized by your actions, but today Bucky didn't care and everyone else was fully intent on watching the show Bucky was attempting to put on. Well played, asshole…well played.

“Let me take care of you…”

Bucky reaches into the shorts and starts rubbing your hand on his cock. You close your eyes and a shiver runs through your body. The hand on what is now your dick feels so fucking good. You’re pretty sure Bucky’s trying to get you to come in front of everyone, and that has your brain come back to reality.

“Sweetie, what are you doing? This is bedroom activity, you know that.”

Bucky stops suddenly and begins glaring at you. He lets out a huff and removes his hand from your shorts. Bucky starts to walk away again but stops right at the threshold of your room just like before. This time, Bucky/you turns around and faces the entire group. He looks directly at you and gives you a huge smirk.

“Should’ve known you wouldn't cave that easy. I know you’re aware what’s going on, so….” Bucky pauses and lifts the midriff over his head and undoes the bra, exposing your breasts to every single person in the room.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. Record this!” Tony demands of the A.I., while Steve covers his eyes, and Sam crosses his arms and nods in approval.

“Take a good hard look!” You watch him grab at your nipples, pinching at them hard and moaning something loud and pornographic. “You now have to live with the fact that every single one of them have seen your perfect breasts and watched me touch your perky tight nipples. Once you see, you can't unsee!” Bucky blows you one last kiss and enters your bedroom shutting the door.

“You're fucked!” Nat looks over at you with an amused smile and begins to laugh at what just took place.

“This ain't over, darlin’…I got all day!” Your run your hands through the long brown hair, figuring out your next step.

“Buck, what did you do?” Steve walks over to the island and gives you his best Captain America stance.

“I woke up, Steve. I woke up.”

Tony continues to look at the door of the bedroom Bucky and you occupy, waiting for another show. When he realizes it's not happening he decides it’s time for real talk. “For some reason, ice capades, I don't believe you. She just let us see her boobs….and you're ok with it? I mean, I'm all for it, she has a great rack…but any other time you'd beat the living hell out of us for even thinking about looking. What's up?” You remain silent as you shrug your shoulders at Tony, not knowing what to say.

“I'm calling bull shit as well…” Sam starts to chime in “I've seen her in more and you've threatened to rearrange my face via that arm! What gives?”

Jesus, they're calling you out. They know something’s not right, and you have no idea how to get yourself out of this one.

“Hold on everyone!” Nat speaks up, coming to your defense. “Y/N is my best friend. I'd be the first to know if something was wrong. Trust me…that's normal Y/N when she's about to go on a mission. She's just never let you see that side of her.”

Tony starts shaking his head, “nope, don't buy it! Boobs, Nat! Boobs!” Tony exclaims, and Steve palms his face.

“Can we not point out one of my best friends boobs to the world?” Cap asks while rubbing his face.

“Why? I mean-you can't not look.”

Wanda rolls her eyes at your comment and shakes her head. “You should go get dressed Bucky. Go talk to your girlfriend.” She gives you a stern look and you sigh heavily, accepting defeat and make your way to the bedroom door.

You pause before entry, taking one last look at your friends trying to commit their faces to memory before walking in to face a very pissed off Bucky Barnes/you. They all wave to you, and you give a two-finger salute before opening the door and walking into certain death.

#bucky #bucky barnes #winter soldier #james barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #james barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader

334 notes · View notes

theashemarie · 5 years

Text

Demo Brew Ch. 1 | Pearlina

☆ Reblogs appreciated! ☆

↪Chapter 2: [The Squid Sisters]

↪Chapter 3: [The Song]

Read one chapter ahead on AO3!

[It starts as a simple bet--Pearl's attempt to prove to her father that she can work a minimum wage job like anyone else. It quickly becomes anything but simple. A web of secrets, a music opportunity, and a chance at love--what could go wrong?]

[The coffee shop AU has always been a favorite trope of mine, so I decided to just go for it. Plus, I love putting my own spin on these things--domesticity and small, meaningful moments are my bread and butter. So, this fic is the culmination of everything I love.

I flubbed the timeline a little in this, but that's mostly to do with the timing of the entrances of certain characters. This story still takes place in the world of Splatoon--there's just a little bit of a timing change, and Callie and Marie enjoy secrets more. As a result, I've tried to follow a bit of the inkling/octoling anatomy (mostly the inclusion of three hearts and the avoidance of any reference to bones). Just a heads up.]

Chapter 1: The Bet

Here’s the deal: Pearl got this job to make a point. Her father said, “You wouldn’t last one week in a dead-end, minimum wage job,” and Pearl, competitive and aggressive to a fault said, “WANNA BET!!” in a voice that was all capital letters and begged more than one exclamation point. So, she trotted her little ass to the nearest over-priced coffeeshop and applied, right there, on the spot. The owner, Callie, hired her immediately, because she liked her fighting spirit and wanted a cut of Pearl’s hundred thousand gold winnings if she pulled it off.

That was two months ago.

Pearl doesn’t know why she stayed. (That’s a lie. She stayed because Callie needed her. With Marie off to Calamari County to care for their aged (“Not decrepit!” Cap’n Cuttlefish declared as Marie guided him out over six weeks ago) grandfather until such a time as he stopped trying to get into the sewers (don’t ask), Callie was down half her staff. Pearl stayed because Callie gave her the sad eyes, the big ones that looked like a sunset on the ocean.) Her father upped the ante—an extra fifty thousand gold for every week she stayed—but she doesn’t need the money. Not really. Her allowance is building steadily in her account and she still lives at home, where her every need is taken care of. She doesn’t take Callie’s money because she doesn’t need it, so she’s working for free. “Volunteer work,” Callie assures her, “it looks good on your resume.”

Fresh Start is a small place, with only a handful of tables and no to-go window. There’s exactly two people who work there—Callie and Marie, co-owners and cousins, who somehow had enough money to open a coffeeshop in the middle of Inkopolis Plaza, the richest area of the city. There’s a decently sized pastry case and their sweets rotate every day of the week so you can never get the same thing two days in a row. Their savory offerings are mostly sandwiches, though Callie is looking into learning how to make flatbread pizzas. Callie handles most of the paperwork while Marie seems to enjoy working the counter, especially the fancy espresso machine. Overall, it’s a small place, a blip on most people’s morning and evening commutes, but there’s something about the familiar, friendly atmosphere and staff that keeps people coming back.

Pearl beginning to think that this is a distraction. Her father doesn’t approve of her sudden swerve into the punk scene, mostly because he doesn’t like to see his little princess wearing so much black, but she isn’t just going to drop that for some stressful job. Sure, Callie is great to work with, but the customers can be awful, especially because they’re smack in the middle of Inkopolis Plaza, where all the fifteen-year-olds obsessed with sports come after turf wars. You don’t know true brats until you’re face to face with a sweaty fifteen-year-old who has to have their latte with exactly two and a half pumps of sweetener in it, and Pearl is the queen of brats so she can say that.

So yeah, the punk gig. She still does it. Late at night, when her dad is out of town usually. She’s twenty-years-old and still sneaking out of the house. The irony isn’t lost on her.

This is all to say, Pearl is ready to jump ship as soon as she can. The second Marie steps foot back into the store, she’s peaceing out and collecting her check from the International Bank of Dad, splitting it with Callie (because she’s not about to renege on that deal), and never looking back. The world needs to hear her music, and, really, she just wants to scream into a mic at the pit of night. Is that too much to ask?

Then, predictably, things change. Marina walks in, and Pearl finds herself returning to the shop, even after Marie has given up on keeping their grandfather out of the sewer (don’t ask).

Pearl realizes that she’s in love with Marina about two days after meeting her. It isn’t a surprise. She falls in love a lot—with hips and large, gentle hands and sleep-heavy limbs and bright, alive eyes and long legs and long hair and short hair and sometimes even with a laugh. She isn’t picky. She falls in love with pieces of people all the time. The most recent one, a fling of a relationship on the road with her band, was a girl who loved human fashion; Pearl fell in love with the way she wore her old-fashioned hats, cocked to one side, tentacles cut short into a bob. She really liked the bob. She might have copied the bob.

Of course, relationships with pieces of people never work out. But, Pearl always reasons, she’s young, she’s wild, she’s got piercings, and she’s disappointing her father with her screamy music. Her bandmates don’t get along and it seems like they’re sick of her, but she doesn’t let that get her down; typical punk stuff, she’s assured herself. She’s going through a phase where she’s allowed to only love fractions of individuals. It’s not healthy, but she’s coping, more than anything, with broken hearts. She always has at least one broken heart.

Until, of course, Marina walks in, orders her coffee from Marie with a soft, accented voice, and Pearl has to try very hard to keep her eyes in her head.

“That’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” Pearl hisses to Marie, as she turns to froth up some milk for a latte. “Do you know her?”

“Her name’s Marina,” Marie answers, uninterested, in her own world. She’s always like that—like she’s far away, thinking about some other reality, some other world. Calamari County or something. Man, these country people.

“You actually know her?” Pearl demands.

Marie smiles then, a small thing, and holds up the paper cup, treating Pearl to her slanted handwriting—Marina.

“Oh,” Pearl says, and sounds just as foolish as she feels. “What’d she order?”

“Green tea latte. You can go talk to her, y’know. I won’t tell Mom.”

She’s talking about Callie, who has a strict no flirting policy after an unfortunate incident involving Marie and a dare—chain flirting for tips, which Pearl let her keep, just because she actually did it; she even flirted with the tiny horseshoe crab that owns the weapon shop. Pearl swore he was thisclose to hiding in his shell. It was especially hilarious because Pearl knows that Marie is like her—she falls for girls, sometimes boys, but mostly, Marie maintains, she loves food. Pearl can respect that.

“But, she’s so...” Pearl glances in Marina’s direction. She’s standing at the pickup counter, scrolling through her phone. She’s got on an oversized sweatshirt and tight leggings with boots that Pearl immediately wants for her own wardrobe. She also has large, expensive headphones over her ears. But, most notable is her hair. It’s so different from what she’s used to seeing in the plaza, where being fresh means having one of two haircuts. And it moves so fluidly, like a silk sheet being spread over a bed.

“She’s so...?” Marie prompts.

“She’s so... out of my league!” Pearl moans, modulating her tone so that she can’t be heard over the percolating coffee pot. It comes out as a low whine.

Marie glances back at Marina and then back to Pearl, at her dark, but designer clothes, and her pink-tinged bob, and then at her boots. “If you say so,” she says, and then turns to slide the latte across the counter. “Marina, this one’s yours.”

The first time Pearl gets up the nerve to talk to Marina, the Squid Sisters are playing over the radio, which gives her the opening she wants. Marina always has those headphones, so she has to know her stuff about music—and anybody who’s anybody knows the Squid Sisters.

The greatest mystery of Inkopolis, the Squid Sisters are the most secretive musical act that’s ever hit the mainstream idol scene. They cover their faces at performances and don’t appear on television, which really makes Pearl wonder sometimes. What if she’s passed them on the street? The smoke and mirrors make them even more of a commodity, and then they drop music without warning, as if they exist outside of the laws of record labels. Pearl is something of a fangirl, but everyone is. The Squid Sisters have it all—adoring fans, lots of gigs, and anonymity. Pearl doesn’t quite understand it; she wants to be adored, wants to crowd surf, wants to be approached on the street for autographs, but she can respect the desire to be left alone.

“Turn that off,” Callie says from the back room. She’s never been a huge Squid Sisters fan. But then, she doesn’t seem to like music much on the whole. She and Marie never sing, never dance, just keep their heads down and make coffee. Pearl has been trying to shake them out of it, but they’re both stubborn in their own way.

“No, leave it,” Marie says from where she’s spreading cream cheese on a bagel for someone. She’s got that smirk, the one that she always wears when Callie starts in on the Squid Sisters. “I like this song.”

Callie makes a loud sigh. “Of course you do.”

Fresh Start is mildly busy right now, probably because it’s near lunch, so Pearl is taking orders. Not her favorite job, but it beats making the coffee. And, this way, she can duck into the back if Marina ever shows.

It makes her uneasy, how unsteady Marina makes her feel. Usually, she’s great at this. She makes girls swoon with a bright, sharp smile, and then makes them fall for her with a well-placed hand and simple pickup line. But Marina? She’s scared to talk to her. It’s not normal, and Pearl doesn’t like.

But, also, she’s determined to see her again, at least once, before she quits and returns to her gilded castle of wealth. (There’s always an “I want to see her again” after she sees her again. It’s a never-ending cycle.)

Except, today, when Marina walks in, jangles the bell, Marie refuses to trade Pearl jobs. The Squid Sisters are singing “City of Color” over the speakers and Marie is grinning at her like a shark. “I’m perfectly comfortable right here,” she says, and turns the blender on so Pearl can’t beg further.

“Callie...!” Pearl tries, but then Marina is there, right in front of her. She has on a beanie today, so her headphones are around her neck, and Pearl can see how well-loved they are, just by how discolored the cushioning is.

“I’m up to my elbows in cookie dough! You’re on your own!” Callie yells back. Behind her, she hears Marie snort.

“Hello...?” Marina says, unaware of the power play occurring behind the counter. Pearl forces herself to smile.

“Hi!” she chirps, voice incredibly high-pitched and slightly panicked. There goes her hard-punk exterior. “H-how can I help you?”

Marina hums as she looks up at the menu. She gets something different every day, as if she’s cycling through the whole menu before picking something she really likes. Her finger comes up to tap her bottom lip, which really is unfair. Pearl has to force herself to swallow.

“Iced coffee, please. No sweetener.”

“Iced coffee!” Pearl yells, not because that’s what they do here but because she’s panicked. Marina is so... so pretty... and regal and—and—and...

Okay, so maybe Pearl is a lost cause.

“I heard her,” Marie mumbles from behind her. Above them, the song changes from “City of Color” to “Ink Me Up.” Callie appears, mysteriously free of cookie dough, and goes for the radio.

“Okay, that’s enough,” she declares.

“Oh, please leave it,” Marina calls, looking past Pearl and to Callie. When Pearl, Callie, and Marie all turn to look at her, she fidgets, pulls her hat tighter over her head. “Sorry, it’s just... The Squid Sisters changed my life.”

From anyone else, that would have sounded dramatic, but Marina says it without a single ounce of irony. She looks down at her hands, with their long turquoise tips.

“No problem,” Callie pipes, suddenly back to her happy, chipper, non-Squid Sister self.

“I’m very glad,” Marie puts in, as she appears beside Pearl with an iced coffee in her hands. “I’m very glad that the Squid Sisters helped you.”

Marina doesn’t say anything, merely takes the coffee with a small smile on her face. “How much...?” she asks.

“On the house,” Callie says, and she disappears back into the back room.

After the Great Zapfish goes missing, Callie and Marie leave to care for their grandfather. Something about his weak hearts. They leave Pearl in charge, and she promptly closes the store for half its hours, because there’s no way she can run this place by herself.

She does okay, all told. She considers asking for her father’s help, but she doesn’t want him buying her out of this problem. She needs to figure it out.

Mostly, that involves thanking people for their patience, because she not only has to handle the money, but make the coffee, clean the tables, and wash the dishes. Callie insisted on using real plates and cups unless the drinks were to-go, which left Pearl with large stacks of mugs in the sink at the end of every hour. She’s dealing with it.

Marina appears every day that week, and every time she asks after Callie and Marie. Pearl answers honestly—“I have no idea where they are or when they’re coming back!”—and Marina tries her hardest not to laugh at Pearl’s anxious, out of control energy. They even have real conversations, which is a step up from Pearl’s lovestruck sputterings of a few weeks ago.

“So, what do you do?” Pearl asks today, as she scoops ice into a cup for a frappe.

“...do...?” Marina asks, as if she’s unsure of the word, feeling the sound of it in her mouth.

“Y’know, like for a job?”

“Oh!” Marina laughs at herself, and it’s possibly the cutest thing Pearl’s ever heard. She has to try very hard not to grin stupidly. “I work in retail.” She gestures out the window, in the direction of the Galleria and its overpriced shops. “On the weekends, I’m an indie producer. I do a lot of remixes. I’m working on some Squid Sisters now.”

Pearl feels like she’s been struck by lightning. “You do what? No way! I’m in a band! I knew you were into music!”

“What’s your band called? Maybe I’ve heard of you.”

“Doubt it.” Pearl slams the blender closed and turns it on. They stare at each other for a few seconds as it does its work. “It’s punk,” she continues when it’s done. “Probably not your style.”

Marina shrugs. “Can’t know until I listen. Will you bring me a sample?”

Her eyes are so bright and excited. Pearl can’t feel two of her hearts, they’re pounding so hard. “Yeah,” she says, “I will!”

#splatoon #splatoon 2 #pearlina #ashe talks #ashe writes #demo brew

43 notes · View notes

wouldadepressedpersonmakethis · 6 years

Text

phone wars

STORE 1: “Mobicity”

IDRIS ELBA (45, reserved by kate aa) - store manager: super intense!!!!! runs his store like he’s running an army!!!! treats every sale like a life or death situation!!! has some raymond holt vibes too??? like this, this, this, and this are all him! expects peRFECTION from his employees!!!! the interview process is inSANE!!!!!! definitely treats the other stores and their employees like mortal enemies!!!!! his office is conveniently located so that he can spy on the store two stores. also has some john mulaney’s dad vibes. “you have the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair” “god can’t hear you” “how are you better than a nazi?” “let’s change the subject” “1 black coffee”

MICHEAL B. JORDAN (31 , reserved by kate aa) - didn’t believe that IDRIS ELBA was a real person but heard stories from his sister. forged an impressive resume and got a job as his assistant manager. got the job just so he could mess w/ idris for fun???? super talented at pretending like he’s got his shit together when in reality he’s super lazy (except when it comes to playing elaborate pranks). secretly dating melissa benoist

RICHARD AYOADE (41) - salesperson, always nervous!!! brilliant but no social skills, terrified of idris, talks fast, throws up when he gets nervous, “i’m okay as long as i don’t think about it!” you could spill soup on him and he’d probably apologize to you

KATIE MCGRATH (35) - idris’s assistant; once dated chris pine; may or may not have gotten this job just to desTROY him; super ambitious/intelligent; could be doing any number of things w/ her life but she’s also kind of petty; has a lot of meryl streep in the devil wears prada vibes, does have a lot of respect for idris but also has plans to over-throw him; can be intense?????? only cares about 1 person (her sister/cousin/bff???) still attracted to chris pine but u won’t hear her say that

ZOEY DEUTCH (23) - katie’s assistant; STRESS LEVEL IS CONSTANTLY A 11/10; def has anne hathaway’s job in tdwp; got this job by mistake; is the furthest thing from organized; applied for a janitor position b/c that’s all she’s qualified to do here but somehow her resume got mixed up??? *** she thinks it was a mistake but it was actually just a prank that MBJ played*** faking it until she makes it??? or rather until she gets fired heh. pretending to be an uptight harvard grad but instead hardly graduated hs and doesn’t know how to adult; may or may not have spent her entire first pay check on fuzzy socks and mozzarella sticks.

??? another lady

STORE 2: “What’s App”

CHARLIE DAY (42) -- an idiot, super chill and laid back, somehow always accidentally thwarts the others’ plans to destroy him! a human disaster but somehow everything just works out for him. his store is a mess tbh??? very unorganized but somehow the most successful of the three??

DYLAN O’BRIEN (26) -- wanted to work for store #1 with a deep passion and intensity!! looks @ idris elba as his idol??? potentially calls him dad accidentally a lot??? idk its weird and IDRIS ELBA got super annoyed with him constantly applying to work for him so instead he sent him to work at store 2 as a “spy”. he takes this role suPER seriously and basically thinks he’s james bond. never gets anything at all helpful for idris elba. has a weird and elaborate fake back story for going undercover. most people can tell he is a “spy”?

ZENDAYA (21) (reserved by lizzy) - younger sister to MBJ and GMR. college student. this is 100% the best summer job she’s ever had. super unmotivated to do well most of the time and just tricks #2 to do all of her work for her. loves just to sit back and watch the chaos unfold.

KRYSTEN RITTER (36 , reserved by kate aa) - IT, monotone voice, always wears black, likes to pretend that she’s a satanist to fuck with people, surrounded by idiots, hates everyone, do not engage her in psychological warfare b/cs she will deSTROY you

BLAKE LIVELY (30 , reserved by kate aa) - heavy beatrice/eugenie vibes~ under skills she listed: i know how to do makeup and have an iphone, only got and has kept this job b/c her manager is as clueless as she is???? does try to be helpful but honestly makes things worse, doesn’t understand you have to put in a full eight hours a day??? often leaves for several hours at at time for lunch??? sometimes just doesn’t come back??? grew up super wealthy and was recently disinherited by her parents after she got into a huge fight w/ them over something stupid?? too proud to go crawling back but tbh she is def drowning in the real world.

MAX GREENFIELD (37) LOUD, yells a LOT, hired as the new brand manager. is grossed out 24/7 by the state of the store; sUPER dramatic; always saying how he’s going to have a heart attack working here (probably will tbh), also says he’s going to die of a rare disease working w/ charlie day (also probably true), has goals to rebrand this as a luxury phone store (closer in style to Oasis vs. a garbage). has his work cut out for him

STORE 3: “Oasis”

CHRIS PINE (37, reserved by lizzy) -- super wealthy!!!, spoiled!!!! a huge ass!!!!! his father is the CEO but he wanted his son to work his way up the ranks on his own vs. just handing the business over to him. has become manager here but that’s as far as he’s gotten. will do whatever it takes to make his branch the most successful!!!! soooo dramatic!!!!! the level of bitchiness in him is absurd!!! definitely considers IDRIS ELBA to his his (1) true enemy!!!!!! def considers manager #2 to be worthless and beneath his notice (don’t mention that he’s actually his biggest competition)!!! has probably won the shithead of the year award. hits on his assistant 24/7 has anger management issues

GUGU MBATHA-RAW (35) - michael b. jordan’s older sister. chris pine’s secretary. the sweetest person in the world!!!!!!! does NOT deserve to work for someone like chris pine. doesn’t realize how much of an awful person he is just because she can’t believe anyone could be that awful???? would come home and tell her siblings about work and the rivalry and neither of them could believe it but then they all got jobs at the other two stores just to see if it was what gugu had said ... turns out its even better.

TIMOTHY OLYPHANT (50, reserved by lizzy) - hired by chris pine’s dad to keep him in line and make sure that he doesn’t do anything to harm the family’s or the company’s reputation. it is a fulltime job!!!! constantly stressed!!!! constantly like: idk what i expected!?!?!? keeps trying to talk sense to chris pine but that’s like talking to a brick wall??? sometimes tries to tell him not to do something in the hopes that he will actually do it ... but that never works either ... will probably die from a heart attack soon. spends his days apologizing to everyone

MELISSA BENOIST (29, reserved by lizzy) - secretly dating michael b. jordan, her job is basically to keep everyone she knows alive???? helP, loves MBJ a lot but he does stress her out sometimes, kind of OCD, works too hard, super driven, just needs to relax, honestly hates this job but just holding it while she finishes up med school, bffs w/ zoey, somehow emily thinks they are bffs??? but melissa doesn’t have the heart to tell her that they aren’t

EMILY BLUNT (35, taken by kate aa) mary eileen vibes~ An Author™ (but not really) trolls her amazon reviews and obsesses over every bad one, hardly does any work? is “in love” with TIMOTHY and is convinced that he is in love with her too even though he’s blatantly told her that he is not, thinks they can’t be together b/c they are co-workers and that they are involved in some kind of forbidden romance???? is the office manager and has def put a lot of personal expenses on it w/ shaky, at best, justifications for why they needed to be charged to the company

JERMAINE CLEMENT (?) method actor. currently is trying to get a role as a vampire. never breaks character. it gets weird.

STORE 4: a fro-yo shop that’s stuck in the middle of the war zone “Sprinkles on Top”

DREAMA WALKER (32) - believes all you need is a hug and some frozen yogurt to have a good day!!!! but the arrival of the three competing phone stores is testing everything she thinks she knows!!!!! her shop has now become hostile territory b/c all of her customers are mostly just the workers on break and they all just stare each other down!!!!!!! has become super aggressive in her attempts to try to get everyone to just get along and be happy!!!

CHRIS O’DOWD? JAKE JOHNSON (38-40 reserved by lizzy) - watched too many nature documentaries on netflix, feels like he morally needs to be a vegetarian now but can’t stop eating meat, so instead he justifies himself by making up elaborate stories about how the chicken he’s eating has unforgivable character flaws, talks at length about this to the customers? doesn’t have great social skills,has conversations with his cat more than w/ actual people; calls himself the alchemist b/c he once managed to burn his laundry, “i didn’t even know you could do that!”

NICK ROBINSON (23 , reserved by kate aa) - has a mild peanut allergy but took this job anyway. “i live life on the edge” ~ nick “you don’t” ~everyone else, has had a crush on ZENDAYA, got this job to be close to her after they went to different colleges? loves bad jokes, a Nerd, writes fanfiction, has won employee of the month every month since he was hired but tbh his competition isn’t that hard to beat, both proud and embarrassed to see his picture up on (the wall) so many times,

JON BERNTHAL? BEN BARNES? (reserved by kate aa)- actually a hitman and this job is just a cover, honestly a terrible liar and everyone can tell what he actually does but pretend they don’t??? inSANELY good at his hitman job ... not so good at serving frozen yogurt? doesn’t have any customer service skills tbh, honestly comes off as pretty terrifying? looks @ everyone like he might just kill you, tbh dreama is a little afraid to fire him?? doesn’t look like he works here???

ANNA KENDRICK (33, reserved by lizzy) - always come to work hungover, the queen of TMI, hits on everything and anything that moves, tbh a sexual harassment situation just waiting to happen, dreama’s younger sister/cousin and was only given this job as a favor, tbh is not working out as well as dreama had hoped.

AWKWAFINA (29) has killed every plant she has ever owned (doesn’t stop her from getting more!), dumps all the toppings on her fro yo. constantly is eating ~free~ frozen yogurt and doesn’t realize that after her 1 cup a day limit, the rest comes out of her paycheck. still lives with her parents. lOUD. ZERO FILTER. will say whatever is on her mind at any time. is TERRIBLE with secrets and is pretty sure she’s gonna drop to someone that melissa and michael are dating and get them both fired! yay! bffs w/ melissa benoist,

#not sure who i am taking #def not all six but those are the ones i'm considering #let me know if you'd like to reserve anyone!#phone wars #anyway here's the list of characters

8 notes · View notes