#i think this is obvious but reference is the ‘did you fuck my mom santa’ bit from always sunny

[apotheosisyphean]

remember when everyone thought kalina was an sti & riz was like “oh god oh fuck am i patient 0”

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #riz gukgak #kalina #pok gukgak #fhsy #i just finished rewatching sophomore year i still think this was funny #someone has to have done this #my art #i think this is obvious but reference is the ‘did you fuck my mom santa’ bit from always sunny #also i’m so sorry but the background i just googled ‘pirate city’ and zoomed way tf in #i fully do not take credit for that #m

[ultimatecufangirl]

My Thoughts about Mega Blissmas

🚨SPOILER ALERT🚨

I recommend not reading this if you haven’t seen it yet, but if you have then go right ahead. :3

Just fyi, I’m NOT going to talk about the obvious...*ahem* Jewish elephant in the room. I’m as disappointed about that as y’all are, but I’m not gonna let it ruin the whole special.

-I’m also a little disappointed that Melvin’s bday wasn’t mentioned, but I’m not mad about it.

-EDITH ACTUALLY APPEARS. She only does so once or twice as a caroler and has no actual dialogue, but you can CLEARLY tell it’s her.

-At the beginning of the special, when George, Harold, and their parents were all at George’s house, did Grace just leave her daughter at home? I mean, even if she got a babysitter or something, she and her son seem to be celebrating Christmas without her.

I’m honestly starting to think that this is a timeline where either a) Heidi was never born, b) she’s dead (I really hope not), c) she was forced to go with her and Harold’s dad when he left (I also really hope not), or d) she’s living with some other relative for some reason.

-Staying on the topic of the boys’ parents, I’m really happy we got to see them again. I wish we could’ve seen more of Melvin’s parents, tho. And George’s dad is absolutely hilarious.

-George, you broke your dad’s present, how could you.

-I also love how we got to see some of the other kids’ Christmases. And Bo’s parents! I find it so cool that they’re fucking huge, and hilarious that all we know of Bo’s mom is the color magenta.

-It was also revealed in the special that Stanley has two older siblings. That’s one of my favorite parts.

-Ms. Hurd is dead? Damn, I never thought they’d do something like that. I wonder what happened to her...

-I’m very curious about one part of the Christmas pageant scene.

Why is Jessica standing like that? Has she gotten the hots for Bo? That’s what it looks like to me. Also why is she such a small bean compared to him? Is he THAT big?

-Hulk Hogan!Santa is one of the best things this show has given us. He reminds me so much of Mr. Ree’s brother.

-Melvin and his hamnog is hilarious. It also made for a really sweet ending and really touching moment when the boys gave him his head mug.

I love how when he tells them to drink some with him, Harold tries to let him down easy and George is just like “Yeah, no.”

-R.I.P. Doopity. Melvin dumped him for hamnog. *Titanic music plays*

-I very much enjoyed the Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer reference, but I wish that one of the reindeer actually had a red nose instead of giving it to Cap.

-How was there exactly NO snow until the end? Shouldn’t they have gotten lots of snow since they live in Ohio?

-Why was Krupp spending the holidays with the bandit cowboy dude? Where’s his family? Bernice not being there is understandable, but what about Kipper and Jasper and the sister?

-I swear the TETOCU team is trying to make Mr. Meaner and Harold’s mom a couple. The way she looked at him when he got hit on the head with a present in the arena; and the fact that it was HER that looked at him like that...

-Who says robots don’t have feelings?

#captain underpants #the epic tales of captain underpants #mega blissmas #it has it's flaws but it's still awesome #george beard #harold hutchins #heidi hutchins #melvin sneedly #bo hweemuth #jessica gordon #stanley peete #mr. krupp #jasper krupp #kipper krupp #bernice krupp #moses beard #barbara beard #grace hutchins #cindy sneedly #gaylord sneedly #mr. meaner #greaner #:3 #<3 #I hope edith appears more and actually gets be a lunch lady and krupp's gf

[mikkomacko]

Christmas Magic 2

The smack delivered to her arm stings against her bare skin, y/n flinching immediately. "He's a dad?" Emma exclaims loudly, dropping her candy cane striped hat to the floor. "You're going out with someone's father?"

"Would you chill, it's not like he's forty!" Y/n hisses, rubbing at her bicep that Emma had slapped in reaction to y/n telling her about Harry. She pulls down the skirt of her Mrs. Claus dress, smoothing out the white fuzz at the edging.

"But he's like had a child," Emma says as if y/n's missing something obvious. "you'd be like a mom but not a mom."

She can't help but roll her eyes at her friend and co-worker's words. "Dad's deserve rights too, you know? Especially hot dads."

Emma laughs at that, swatting at her arm again. Thankfully it's playful this time. "Ok but how hot is he?"

"A cross of Mick Jagger and Bill Skarsgard."

"Holy fuck he's your wet dream!"

"I know," she squeals, clenching her fists as she does a little dance of excitement in her spot. "and his daughter is so sweet. Like I know I love kids, but I really fucking love this kid."

Y/n has always loved kids. She grew up with lots of cousins and friends that had little siblings so being around children was second nature. Not to mention all the time she volunteered at nurseries and elementary schools and children's hospitals.

Emma tells her something but she's not listening enough to answer, and they finish getting ready for their set in silence because y/n is too deep into her thoughts to answer. And even as she's onstage, looking around just in case Harry and Ophelia happen to be back, she can't help but wonder if Harry loves all kids the way she does or if he's just soft for his daughter.

~

"A date?" Gemma gasps, and Harry can picturing her clutching her non-existent pearls. "With a woman?"

"Yes Gem," Harry exasperates, "a woman has agreed to go on a date with me this weekend."

She giggles through the phone, either happy that he's got his first real date in four years or proud of her own joke. "So the nipper needs a babysitter huh?"

Harry cradles his phone between his ear and shoulder, grabbing the check in form on the reception desk. "Yes she does and she's very excited to see her aunt Gemma." He winces through the lie, remembering how much Ophelia had wailed when he informed her that she wouldn't be attending dinner with him and y/n.

"Does she know your going on a date or does she think you're working late again?"

"Umm," Harry pauses, hearing Gemma's words but too caught up reading over all the names that have signed in. After a moment, one in which Gemma knows he's multitasking ( or trying to), Harry finally answers. "she knows it's a date. Wouldn't lie to her."

"How'd she take the news?"

"Well, I um, I asked the girl out when Ophelia was with me." Harry admits and as he thinks about it, he's lucky Ophelia didn't burst into a tantrum in that cafe when he'd asked. She's always had issues with sharing Harry, even going as far as yelling at his old boss when he'd had to come in on a weekend, leaving her with Uncle Niall.

"So she knows you're a dad then?"

Harry scoffs, "Of course, wouldn't ask someone out without telling them about the little miss."

Gemma makes a sound as if to say "that's why you've never gotten any dates" and he's tempted to tell her that he's in fact never wanted to date anyone until he met y/n. He thinks it was how starry eyed she had Ophelia. Or maybe it's how sweet her smile is.

Harry's interrupted by a terrible, screeching cry from down the hall. "Sorry Gem, gotta go. I've got a crier. I'll text ya the time." He's hanging up his phone, dropping it onto his desk quite ungracefully, and swiping up a patient chart as quickly as he can. Harry jogs down the hall to the room of Charles M. Brunt, putting on a smile as he enters the room.

"S'all this crying for me?" He greets, catching the attention of the wailing boy. He stops squirming in his mother's arms, staring up at Harry with big, teary eyes and a trembling bottom lip.

"D-do I really have to get a shot?"

Harry tries not to smile because he had a feeling all this wailing was due to a shot. Instead, he pouts sympathetically and nods. "I'm afraid so but don't you worry. I promise it won't hurt."

Charlie's face wobbles a bit as he sniffles sadly, looking to his mother for help. She wipes his tears, shrugging sadly at him. "We trust Mr. Harry don't we Charlie?" Charlie nods at her words. "Then we know this will be ok."

Harry offers him one last encouraging smile before gathering everything for Charlie's flu shot, picking out the Avengers band-aid because he knows Charlie loves that one. Harry gets Charlie's sleeve rolled up and latex gloves on, wiping his bicep with an alcohol wipe. Charlie attaches himself to his mother's arm, squeezing her hand for dear life like he always does.

"Hey Charlie," Harry distracts, subtly pulling the cap off the needle. "what'd ya ask Santa for for Christmas?"

Charlie seems to forget what's going on, relaxing as he falls victim to the excitement of Christmas. He starts listing off different types of Legos he asked for, only pausing when Harry picks him with the needle. He's quick to inject the fluid before Charlie tenses to much, pulling the needle out and covering it with the band-aid.

"We did it Mr. Harry!" Charlie laughs, straining his neck to look at his band-aid. "And you put Thor on me! I love Thor!"

Harry chuckles. "Well he is the best." He responds even though he couldn't care less about the best superhero. He's pretty sure he told Ophelia last week that Captain America is the best Avenger because he's her favorite.

Harry sends Charlie off to the checkout desk with a fist-bump and a "merry Christmas," wondering which superhero y/n thinks is the best.

~

She's nervous. Really nervous as she paces back and forth in the living room of her little apartment, fiddling with the sleeves of her sweater. She's got her water proof boots on, her gloves tucked into the pocket of her winter coat, and tights on under her jeans, beyond prepared to brace the cold so she can enjoy her night with Harry.

Her date with Harry.

But he's late. Not so late that she'd think he'd stood her up, especially since he called her ten minutes ago, breathless and a bit grumpy, to tell her that he's running a tiny bit late. She doesn't know how far he lives or if he's driving or taking the train or maybe a taxi, so she can't really time how long it'll take him to get to her complex.

Y/n is in the middle of re-tying her boots when her phone rings, Harry’s name popping up on the screen as well as a picture of Mick Jagger back when he was around her age. She’s quick to answer, breathless with nerves as she softly says “hello?”

"M'outside," Harry says, sounding a lot happier than he did earlier, before quickly adding, "well I think I'm outside." He chuckles a rumble-y little titter that crackles in the phone's speaker while y/n tugs on her coat and rushes outside, locking the door behind her. She peers down from the second story landing, spotting the black car she'd seen him load Ophelia into after the carnival.

"There you are," she assures him, practically hopping down the stairs. "M'coming now."

"Ya know I can see ya, right?" Harry laughs teasingly but cutely, and she can't recall a time she's ever referred to someone's father as cute.

"Well I didn't know if you could see in the dark or not!" Y/n defends, laughing because there's just something about Harry that makes her overflow with giggles.

"Old enough to be a father, love but m'not old enough to be blind."

She laughs even more at that, blushing over the fact that Harry's so hilarious. She's never met a guy that's been genuinely silly and funny like Harry is.

"Blindness comes in all ages sir." She responds sassily, giggling when Harry chuckles deeply. His only line of defense is a response of "hurry up and get in the bloody car," but she's already reaching for the handle of the passenger side door. She hops in, the heating blasting against her cold cheeks and the seat warm under her body.

"You're being awful bossy," y/n says, phone still pressed to her ear despite the fact that Harry has set his in his lap and looking at her with bright eyes, that twinkle blue and she can't help but swoon over the fact that sometimes his eyes are blue and sometimes they're green. She wonders if Ophelia's eyes do that too.

Harry simpers, a little shyly, and shrugs. "M'a dad. Bossy comes with the title."

Y/n rolls her eyes, finally hanging up her phone and tucking it into the pocket of her coat. Harry looks at her expectantly, hand resting on the gear shift and she quickly buckles up to appease him.

"Speaking of being a dad," y/n murmurs, unable to stop herself. "how's Ophelia?"

The smile that takes over his face is breathtaking, crinkling by his eyes and indenting dimples into his cheek. He only glances at her for a second before returning his eyes to the road and y/n realizes she doesn't know where they're going. Then she catches the glimmer in his eyes and decides she doesn't care.

"She's good. Spent the day making gingerbread houses with her before my sister came to babysit for the night." Y/n practically coos at the longing in Harry’s voice, as if he’d do anything to always have her with him.

"Wait," she frowns, turning in her seat to look at him. "was she upset that you were leaving tonight?"

Harry looks at her curiously for a very brief second, shrugging as he struggles to come up with an answer. Y/n already knows the answer that's going to come out of his mouth. "She was a little hurt that she wasn't tagging along," he finally replies, sugar coating the fact that Ophelia had a tantrum when Harry went to leave without her.

"She was?" Y/n grimaces, slumping into the seat. The car comes to a red light, Harry finally looking at her once they've stopped.

"S'why I was late," he says apologetically. "she was hurt that I got to come see you and she didn't."

And that wasn't what she was expecting to hear. She thought he'd gently tell her that Ophelia was hurt that someone was stealing her daddy for the night. That Ophelia hated y/n and didn't want Harry with her. She saw how much Ophelia loves Harry, how anxious she is without him. She can't really imagine Ophelia being sad that she wasn't spending time with y/n instead of being sad that she wasn't spending time with her father.

"Really?"

Harry must hear the surprise in her voice because he chuckles softly, nodding as he takes the green arrow to head left. They're going to the outskirts of the city where there's mostly just big luxurious houses and small business. She listens with a tiny smile and blushing cheeks as Harry tells her all about Ophelia's love for her. He gushes that Ophelia keeps begging to go back to the carnival and if he didn't have work he probably would have taken her because she's just so sulky every time Harry tells her they can't go visit y/n. And when he tells her that Ophelia typically hates strangers, but not her, she thinks her heart's going to beat right out of her chest.

~

The restaurant Harry chose is small but cozy, dim-lighted with dark wood floors and oak tables and booths. Garland and white lights line every single window, mistletoe hung from every light fixture, and a thin but tall tree placed by the entrance next to the hostess. Judging by the pictures on the wall, it's family owned and operated since 1985 when a man named Carl Knox opened it for his wife, Lucilia. She can't help but think how cute it is that the restaurant is called Lucy's.

Harry seems to be a regular here, comfortably hanging his coat on the hooks by their booth and helping y/n out of hers. Always nervous in new places, she fiddles a bit when she first slides into the booth and is handed a menu by a teenager named Justin who greets Harry with a "nice to see you again Mr. Styles. No little one tonight?"

He chuckles, glancing at y/n with that same shy look he had when he'd reminded her in the car that he's a father, and she wonders if he's worried about the fact that he has a child.

"Not tonight, no," He murmurs, rubbing his knuckle against the tip of his nose. "and ya know not to call me Mr. Styles, come on."

Justin laughs, patting Harry on the shoulder. "I know, I just like to see ya get all uncomfortable when I say it." Harry rolls his eyes, again looking at y/n shyly as he rubs his knuckle against his nose once more. Y/n catches a peek of yellow that has her heart jumping. "Alright, back to business. I'll be back in a minute to take your orders."

Justin moves to another table and y/n finally drops the menu she was pretending to read, only to find Harry already looking at her. He blinks nervously when they're eyes meet and she can't stop herself from asking, "can I see your nails?"

Harry looks down at his lap when his hands sit, bobbing his head in a tiny nod. She sees his Adams's apple bob as he swallows, bringing his hands up to the table top. He splays them out, skin pale against the dark wood and his sweater sleeve rises a bit to show off a glimpse of dark ink. He's got tattoos, she realizes as she spots the cross by his thumb. She doesn't think much of it as she reaches out to run her pointer finger over the cross, smiling proudly when she sees his nails. She knew it.

"They match Ophelia's." She muses, looking over his yellow nails that are topped with the same smiley faces Ophelia had on hers. She looks up at Harry through her eyelashes, blushing at the look of awe on his face.

"Y-yeah," he breathes. "she loves having them painted but m'awful at it. Took her to this place by m'home but she was nervous so I got mine done too. She was so happy and I like the colors, so we kinda made it a tradition."

Her bones feel like jelly with how warm her veins have gotten. She knew from the minute she saw Harry that he's handsome. He's so handsome she'd even go as far as calling him hot, and she hates calling people hot, but he makes her feel hot. And she knew he's a good dad, could tell when she read the identification card Ophelia had handed her. But she's never met any man that would willing get his nails done with his daughter and enjoy it enough to keep doing it. She's overwhelmed with how cute and handsome and sweet and sexy he is.

"That's," she pauses, trying to catch her breath. Her finger continues to dance over the soft skin of his hand. "that's the most adorable thing I've ever heard." Harry chuckles bashfully, shrugging and somehow that makes him even more attractive.

"S'nothing. I mean, she's my daughter, ya know?"

"It's not nothing," y/n insists. "it's really sweet and progressive of you. I mean, my dad would never do that."

Harry's eyes flicker between hers, dazzling blue and warm. He shrugs again, looking as if he's about to say something but is interrupted by Justin returning with glasses of water. They're pulled out of their moment, Harry ordering an iced tea and a chicken salad sandwich. Y/n sticks to her water but orders a salmon salad.

Once Justin's left with their orders, Harry looks at her with a purse of lips that looks as if he's trying to keep from saying something. Y/n chuckles, wrapping her fingers around her glass of water. "What?"

"You gotta tell me how ya got the job of singing and dancing in a costume." He chuckles, leaning forward on his elbows. Y/n, familiar with this question, tells him that she works at the radio station that puts on this carnival, and she'd done a segment years ago in which she sang a duet with a bunch of guests artists. Apparently everyone enjoyed it so they begged her to sing for the carnival and she's just kept doing it ever since.

They fall into easy conversation, not even pausing when their food is delivered. Between bites of the best salad she's ever eaten and sips of water, she finds out that Harry is a nurse at the pediatrics ward of the hospital and his favorite part of the job is the fact that it made raising Ophelia easier. They gave him lots of time off when she was born because he's been her sole parent since birth, and he's got a flexible schedule so he can always pick her up for school and spend weekends with her. He also didn't have to worry about little colds or teething when she was younger because he's learned all about it.

Harry doesn't talk about Ophelia's mom and she doesn't ask. Even when he mentions that Ophelia's nothing like her mother, and he looks almost scared that he's mentioned it, y/n plays it off with a little comment about how she's nothing like her father, but she's really glad Ophelia's like hers.

Y/n can't believe how comfortable she is around Harry. They'd talked that day at the cafe and got on well but there was no pressure to impress there. Here, however, is the pressure of a first date that usually makes her awkward and nervous. With Harry, it's not the case. They laugh and joke around, and nudge their feet together under the table. They argue over the bill a bit, Harry finally paying it to make up for the hot coco she bought him and Ophelia, but he promises next time they can split it.

The car ride home is filled with Christmas music that Harry insists she sing along to since she's "a proper performer." But she can't even hold a good note because Harry's constantly glancing at her with a big smile that has her breathless and laughing. She's still giggling at him when they pull up to her apartment, this time Harry shutting down the engine and unbuckling.

Y/n doesn't really question him when he gets out, rushing around the front of the car with a little hop in the headlights that has her snorting. He opens her door for her, helping her down and adjusting the collar of her coat in the same way she saw him fix Ophelia's at the carnival. She can't help but be endeared by the little mannerism.

"Second floor?" Harry asks, offering his elbow to her. She nods, slipping her hand in the crook of his elbow and they head towards the stairs. Their breath fogs out around them, puffing out when they reach the top and Harry let's out a dramatically harsh pant.

"Sorry, the dad bod's getting to me."

She giggles, breathing a little difficult too but she thinks it's from Harry, not the cold or her body shape. Y/n leads him to her front door, pausing with the key in the lock.

"Do you want to come in?"

Harry looks sorry as he shakes his head, pursing his pink lips to the side. "Would really love too but I gotta get home to the little miss. Never been out this late before and m'afraid she'll be a little rattled."

"Oh my God," y/n gasps, slipping her arm out of his. "what are you doing up here then? Get home!"

Harry chuckles, that same rumble-y laugh she'd heard over the phone. It's prettier in person, even with how masculine it is. "Forgot to do something at the restaurant," he explains, bringing his hands up to her shoulders. He's hesitant, eyes flickering between hers as he reaches up with one hand to push hair out of her face.

"Oh," she breathes, able to smell his husky cologne. He cups her cheek, gloves soft on her skin, and waits to see if she's going to shake him off. When she doesn't, he takes a little step forward. Y/n does the same, bringing her hands up to his chest.

Harry smiles cutely, leaning down to put a small kiss to her lips. His lips are cold but somehow still soft, his breath warm on her cheeks. She pecks his lips back, eyes closing just briefly to feel how soft his lips are on hers, even if it only lasts a couple seconds.

"S'no mistletoe here," Harry murmurs, stroking his thumb over her cheek "but I couldn't not kiss ya." His touch is electrifying, eyes sparkling like Christmas lights and y/n definitely thinks there's something magic about him.

#christmas magic #Christmas Magic 2 #single dad harry #dad harry #dad harry styles #fluff #Harry and Ophelia #nurse Harry #one direction #fanfiction #fanfic #harry imagine #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic

[redantsunderneath]

Us (2019) *Spoilers*

Us is the best movie I've seen since Mandy.  I shouldn't oversell it, but it's really rich and basically everything I like movies for.  I’m going to at least refer to major plot spoilers (usually without direct description) so stop reading if you want to stay clean.

Horror seems more direct and out of the box able to get at the concerns I like narrative art to deal with.  The genres kind of promote certain thematic preoccupations, and horror is so diencephalonic that it really is able to go psycho-chrono-geographically extreme (more unconscious, more primordial, more in the woods) with less dithering.  This movie is an example of why all my favorite movies loosely categorize horror (even cheap dumb horror movies seem to work a lot better subliminally than those of other genres).  

For people who don’t care about spoilers and want to follow along, the movie unfolds as follows: A black upper middle class family goes to their vacation house where no-one really wants to be - the daughter is in her phone, the son is withdrawn, the mom actively does not want to be there, and the dad is overcompensating.  They go to Santa Cruz beach where the mom, when she was a kid, saw a girl who looked just like her in a hall or mirrors below the carnival/boardwalk, the trauma stemming from which derives much of the movie’s impetus.  On the beach, they meet their friends, a white family who are the image of superficial aspirational American values.  

One night a full set of their doppelgängers show up in the driveway and a battle for survival begins.  This turns out to be broader with, at least regionally, alters (”the tethered”) showing up everywhere and killing their analogous surface people. The white family falls immediately, sand our guys have to face their alters too.  The family eventually triumphs, but not before the mom descends into the tunnels under the hall of mirrors and faces her alter who reveals a too literal plot and wins.  The family drives away and it is revealed that the mom was (THE SPOILER) the alter all along and what happens is the result of the “real surface mom” jealously yearning for participation in that kind of stuff we do that gives life meaning, including odd self delusions and empty displays... so, like culture in general.

What the movie is really about is how we have within us a shadow of our primal selves, an ancestral image of progenitors who were concerned with drives and survival, and we suppress this so that society can function and we can be free from the knowledge of existential risk. The "absent center" (a la Derrida) of the movie is the culture war in which we are prone to let this shadow (and its instinctual out-group hatred and violence) take more control. We have a complex relationship this repression that involves guilt (we have it better than they did, civilization is theft and genocide, how can I forget this) and tightly bound attraction/fear of giving into the deeper drives - we know it is valuable but we don't want to edge in too far.  

So civilization is an internal tension filled detente that is kind of a lie we tell ourselves, and that situation is slipping a little bit. Presented as the main perturbation is trauma - being forced to see the real of which this shadow is a part, whether the trauma is abuse, encountering too harsh truths as a child, day to day existence in western civilization, self inflicted trauma to confirm to norms, the loss of a way of life, epigenetic shock from slavery, or whatever else.  Being a “realist”, and societal “red pilling,” is depicted as extremely destabilizing and dangerous because the truths discovered when outed may annihilate everything we have been striving for (if that’s worth saving at all). 

Note, this is within the context of not absolute truth but competing ambiguities, or at least an ambivalent set of incommensurable ideas that are all true but are immanently inconsistent. Or, alternately phrased, culture has rejected confronting certain truths for so long that we should be afraid of how a bunch of people who are not nuanced and are not prepared for the knowledge will react, but we really need to understand the real to grapple with the inevitable dissonance (competing ideas of the good) when figuring out a way forward. This movie is not pedantic and is well aware this struggle should not be ignored but the pain of confronting the truth is that it threatens the good in a way that is fucking tough to resolve.

The semiotics of this movie must have taken forever to put together.  There is symbolism everywhere and most symbols have multiple meanings.The main reference points are the 1111, rabbits, and the direct references to other media, but it is drenched in nods to the Americana, slavery, status markers, black cultural touchstones, etc..  

The 1111 recurrence has many reflections, some harder to notice.  11:11 is in the ether as the “time that big shit goes down,” has numerological connections to the divine descending to earth, and has a direct function of representing the individuation/alienation of the family and the way things are “twinned.”  One good example of the way this ties together is, as they walk across the beach, their 4 shadows make the Black Flag symbol (there is recurrence of Black Flag T-shirts to remind us) which is a stylized single (1) flag, furled as to show a staggered arrangement of the 4 band members as individuals - unity in individuality, which the movie questions (also to play into themes of suburban rebellion and “authenticity”). The 1111/11:11 works a lot of ways: to suggest an eschaton of individuality, that there is a moment of great potential and danger, as judgement/revelation foreshadowing (via Jeremiah 11:11 "Therefore thus saith the Lord, Behold, I will bring evil upon them, which they shall not be able to escape; and though they shall cry unto me, I will not hearken unto them."), the twinnings at different levels (we see the Black Flag t most clearly in the chest of one of a set of twins who have their own "twins" 11:11 - the other twin just has on a halter to maximally show off her "twins").

The rabbits are a psychological critique of the id in modernity (this movie is interesting about sex in its color-around-the-picture absence).  In deep psychological tunnels, they are caged and consumed subconsciously, red and bloody, as the current order/superego’s sacrifice to keep things quiet, and set free by the lysis in libidinal excess.  They also abut the slavery imagery as they are caged, utilized instrumentally, and are present not just in tunnels but in something that codes as an underground railroad.  But mostly I think Peele must be a David Lynch fan as Inland Empire informs this use. 

The Twin Peaks references were unexpected.  The first sequence is a descent from the carnival of fake activities that simulate real experience to the “deep place,” past the dweller on the threshold who gives us warning, into the woods with an owl (which isn’t what it seems), and into a veil of curtains through which are the deeper psychological truths where we interrogate inability to cope with trauma as a kind of existential problem - the whole situation as a manifestation of the sickness of the structures that give life meaning.  Also, the protagonist is trapped for a similar length of time, has a doppelgänger that is in a way the real protagonist revealed, and needs to face this part of themselves.

So, we’ll try to hit most of the wide ranging pop-culture references, but things really intertwine. Example: the red smocks evoke several things: 1. Michael Jackson, with glove, specifically Thriller (as on the tee), intentionally picking up on the gaslighting, the trauma, the ties to his own hidden nature, and the fraught nature of cultural affiliation (specifically black - Peele is the one doing the questioning) that perpetrates a cycle of behavior (we’ll get to code switching); 2. Chain gangs/prison uniforms - there are shackles in the movie and "tethered" is the word for the link between people and their alters - which, in the imagination, is just an echo of slavery;  and 3. Michael Myers... the white mask of one of the characters delineates this, but it reminds one of the other as an encounter with the real.  The glove looking like a low res infinity gauntlet will be left as an exercise for the reader.

The Jaws T-shirt fits with the water/boats stuff, evoking the polysemous subliminal other as a threat to out prosperity and illusions about ourselves. Just as in Jaws, the other is a really wide concept and can lend to a lot of different readings focusing on whatever you want to about the modern western world and what we fear/suppress.  All the MJ symbols and the mention of OJ alludes to the fraught identity of being trapped between worlds.  Black Flag and NWA recalls the shakiness of authenticity from opposite sides.  The consistent riffing on The Shinning evokes the sickness in the culture, the family, and the individual as inseparable and leveraged against our forgetting what has happened and who were were before. Hands Across America’s repeated direct referencing instantiates the desire for and society's readiness to provide the lie agreed upon, ambivalence about which is at the heart of the film.  Lost Boys is name checked by location and timing - literally they its filming is there in the flashback part - but also the spectacle hiding our savage natures which we are drawn to but need to control.  The home invasion scene is very A Clockwork Orange, with the eruption of violent life into the modern domestic space set to pointedly inappropriate music. There are tons of less specific movie references each evoking multiple films with similar shadowing - masks, scissors as weapon, the hall of mirrors, carnival as place of trial and trauma, underground as a place to resolve answers, incongruous music and violence,  etc. There is a shot with shelves of VHS tapes all of which have obvious resonances (CHUD, Goonies, the Man with Two Brains, Nightmare on Elm Street) except the Right Stuff which is pointedly there, perhaps as a reminder that man can and will transcend.

Tim Heidecker plays just the kind of character who you'd expect - a clueless smarm who goofily performs the rituals of commodified masculinity while not really seeming masculine at all. His transparency is why he was cast. He is part of a whole family critique of the superficiality of the American dream and how there is rot underneath.  Much of this critique is undercooked and a weak spot of the film as the family’s alters, besides Elizabeth Moss’s narcissism prompted ritual self mutilation, aren’t that worked in. Yeah, the father mimes dad stances, and the kids are interchangeable just like suburban identities (right, commuters?), but that’s it.  There is a lot of deeply implicit racism and distrust of the outsider in the families’ interactions that is much more subtle than “I would have voted for Obama for a third term.” How about “I knew you’d forget the flare gun” (but not the rope or life preservers) which has a lot running through it - ironic racial assumptions, a from the right critique of a political stance valuing safety and security over defense and accepting help, the "making fire” motif involved in beating back the shadow, and the plastic “real man” attitude.

The primary family is black and affluent, and have a connection to black culture that is depicted as at once not entirely real, aspirational, and a kind of cosmic separation.  But (mostly) the really deep connection to these things is "forgotten." Dad’s efforts to code switch when he has to summon something other than performative consumerism comes off as pathetic in the face of the power of the history of survival.  As dad listens and performs involvement of “heritage,” the son asks what “I Got 5 On It” means - dad deflects and the daughter answers “drugs.”  The correct answer is having a stake in the ($) dream whatever rules you have to break to get there.  This rubs (intentionally) uncomfortably against the Michael Jackson and OJ references (and the trapped in the closet pseudo reference) as cultural aspiration is about having to either forget a history of bad things (what the actual text of the things are speaking to) or leave behind the products of that thing (at which point where is your connection to your cultural past).  

The Fuck the Police joke works a bunch of different ways: 1. It’s a pun; 2. it’s an Alexa/Siri not working joke; 3. it brings the specter of technology contributing to faulty society into the space (as does the daughter’s phone); 4. it ironically contrasts with Good Vibrations; 5. it ironically contrasts with the action, the incarcerated kicking the shit out of suburbanites as class revenge; 6. the actual police literally still haven’t shown up after the 911 (is a joke) calls; 7. it expresses our ambivalence to societal strictures; 8. it is at odds with the environment, suggesting the absurdity of the middle class aping authenticity; 9. Ice Cube now makes a lot of fish out of water comedies of hood-coded man trying to fake middle class; 10. I could go on.

The weapons used by the heroes are all affluent symbols, often a costly reclaiming/supplanting/mastering of the primitive with the stuff of the modern - an expensive aluminum bat, a golf club, an outboard motor, and a geode mounted on a stand. The 3 family members win against both their shadows and that of their white counterparts by unifying his modern advances with the primitive impulses. The dad wins by understanding how machinery works and by mastering fire.  The daughter wins because cars > running. The son is really something because he is all about play and tricks and can't make fire, but is really about empathy (or maybe mirror neurons). His alter plays with fire, has burned himself badly, and is scared by technological magic.  So our son makes a spark, and learns to play with the other and thus control him to walk backwards into the alter's own fire.  He learns this trapped in a closet (the second R Kelly sub rosa reference this weekend after Shazam saying "I believe I can fly" before a messy edit) surrounded by board games including Monster Trap and Guess Who?

The twist really opens up what the movie is saying and is perfect Twilight Zone type "both chewy plot gotcha and thematic epiphany.” The twist basically says that the jolt of becoming aware of the real is traumatic and, if it is bad enough and you are susceptible, the state of wokenness requires you to fake it in order to fit into the life you desire but are alienated from, while the part of you that loves life (giving over to a spirit, art, believing in something "true" rather than factual) stays buried ready to erupt with negative effects.  This is a unique take on the subjectivity of trauma, that the bad unacceptable thing that is not supposed to happen that happened to you makes you feel like you are characterized primarily by that bad thing pretending to be the transcendent nature you repressed.  And yet, the movie ends with the Shining helicopter landscape shots of the car driving away, to Hands Across America being re-enacted, our primitive selves being inspired to attempt to recreate the lie of society as a life affirming spectacle.  This rhymes with the mom continuing to play mom as the performance is the reality, is who she really is.

I have left a lot on the table... the boat (that always pulls left) stuff as class critique, the voices the alters have, what each families’ possessions say (especially the wall art and architecture of the houses), the movements of the alters, the coding of the water settings, the idea of the “Carnival” of souls over abandoned tunnels and superficial (cheap and temporary) vs. deep (forgotten) culture, the scissors as a compound metaphor, the mirroring, 100 other media nods (e.g. Home Alone), the general quality of the music cues, the overdetermining alter names from the IMDB page, the Howard and thỏ shirts, the drunk dad, the excessive hinting at common types abuse (using film and real language) but not letting us have that as an organizing reality (as Nightmare on Elm Street does), and other stuff I’m not dredging up.

The movie is not prefect - 1. it commits the cardinal sin of 11th hour exposition to set the literal plot in concrete, which I didn't need and waters down the themes; 2. the white family (other than mom) deserves more specific behavior from their alters, and 3. there is only one real standout acting performance (Lupita Nyong'o, who I didn't "get" until this). But man, this is 1000 x better than Get Out - it's broader and more primal in its concerns with race falling out as just one critique among many.  

[scornedlove]

Chapter Twenty

CHRIS

Just as promised, the next two weeks flew by, and Nicki’s wedding had arrived. I forgot how dramatic brides can be but was quickly reminded when I was pulled to Nicki’s dressing room by her maid of honor, Katy, whom I met last night at the rehearsal dinner.

“Nicki’s been psycho all afternoon and I can’t get through to her. She’s literally all over the place. You’re her brother, can you please go talk some sense into her?” she pleaded in a panic.

“Of course, but do you mind showing my date where she would be sitting?” I asked, referring to Tae, who was looking stunning in a perfectly fitted blue dress that had cleavage pouring out of the top. She was making it hard to keep in mind that she was celibate.

“I’d actually like to look around until things are closer to getting started” she replied, without looking up as she texted on her phone. I swear that thing was always glued to her hands.

“Hey” I uttered, putting my hand over her phone, demanding her attention. “No work today, just enjoy yourself”

“Oh, I’m just checking on my mom. She was dealing with my sick grandma when I left” she explained, and quickly put her phone down to her side. “But she’s okay. So, you go make sure Nicki is okay, I can only imagine how nervous she is right now”

 “Yeah, you’re right, let me get back there” I nodded before we took off in separate directions.

The wedding was supposed to start in a half hour, so when I walked into Nicki’s room and she still looked like she had just woken up, worry had set in.

“Hey Nick. What’s going on?” I asked as soon as she opened the door. Her face was clammy and she looked frustrated.

“I’m losing my shit Chris” she exclaimed, quickly pulling me in the room and closing the door. She started pacing and fanning herself with both hands.

“What do you mean? Why aren’t you dressed?”

“I woke up with morning sickness and I’ve vomited four times already. There’s literally nothing left to come up. I think this might be a sign” 

“What kind of sign?”

“I don’t know, maybe my body is telling me I’m about to make a huge mistake”

“No, your body is telling you that you’re pregnant” I laughed, but she didn’t.

“Christopher, this is not a joke. My life is about to change dramatically. I’m going to be a mom and Sam still hasn’t found a new job. I don’t want this to be something I regret”

“You and Sam have been together forever and not once has this man given you a reason to leave him at that altar today. Take it from me, I’ve been on the other side of this shit. The difference is I deserved it, but Sam.... he’s always been there for you, no matter what.”

“But what if everything changes after we’re married?”

“It’s supposed to change, for the better” I urged her to see the bigger picture. “There’s not many genuine people who will actually bend over backwards to make someone else happy, and that’s all Sam has ever done”

“I don’t know Chris” she repeated again, wearing my patience down.

“Ok, fuck it. Don’t do it. I’m going down there right now to tell Sam that you just realized you don’t want to do this” I tossed my hands up in defeat and left the room.

“Wait!” she stuck her head out behind me and yelled.

ROBYN

“I never even put two and two together” I laughed. It never occurred to me that Katy’s friend and Nicki were getting married the same day, turns out Katy was Nicki’s maid of honor.

“So how well do you know her? We’ve been best friends for at least three years now” Katy grinned.

“I don’t know, about five years. She’s like a sister to my ex”

“What a coincidence” she grinned, before leaning in to me and lowering her voice. “I just can't believe she’s been acting like a fucking bridezilla. She's been giving me hell all day. Is getting married really worth all the hype?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “In fact, I better go check on her. Hopefully Chris was able to calm her down”

The mention of Chris’ name was like magic, because he immediately popped into my line of sight, walking in my direction. Or so I thought. Katy walked off and he stopped directly in front of her. They shared a few words, then took off in the same direction.

“Friends” Mel snapped her fingers after catching me in a daze.

“Relax. I told him how I feel, but I’m not going to beg anybody to be my man”

“Good. Now keep that in mind for as long as he has a girlfriend. I’ll be damned if you end up as your ex fiancé's side chick” she teased, as more people began to take their seats. 

“Excuse me” a lady called out, tapping my shoulder. “I just had to tell you; your dress is amazing”

“Thank you, yours looks great too” I replied truthfully. I’d never met this woman before and was wondering why she was sitting in the section reserved for family.

“Wow. Your eyes are soooo pretty” She beamed, getting extra close. “Are they contacts?”

“No” I chuckled, shaking my head. “But I wish I had a dollar for every time I heard that question”

“I’m Tae, by the way” she laughed, offering out her hand, so I shook it. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Robyn”

“I don’t mean to stare, but you are so gorgeous and your accent is bomb. Where are you from?”

“Barbados” I replied as the music finally began. Everyone got quiet, including Tae, who scooted back to her seat and pulled out her phone, I’m assuming for pictures.

Everyone marveled at the bridal party as they walked two by two down the aisle. Then came the bride. Everyone stood in awe as Nicki and Chris slowly walked down the aisle side by side in all white. Even through her tears, Nicki was stunning, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of Chris. Apparently, he noticed, because as he was passing my row he winked. After lifting her veil, he kissed her cheek then took his seat in the crowd, right between Tae and me.

He was too close for me to focus on the wedding that was happening in front of me. His cologne was all in my space and his leg kept touching mine, but somehow, I managed to keep my emotions at bay. The few minutes it took the officiant to marry Nicki and Sam felt like an hour, but it was finally over and I couldn’t be more grateful as Mel and I slipped out together.

As hard as it was, Chris’ presence was forgotten after a few shots of vodka and I was actually enjoying myself, anxiety free. Mel and I were both on the dance floor, letting loose when Tae squeezed past a couple, that was damn near fucking on the dance floor, to get next to me.

“There you are! You left so fast; I didn’t get the chance to ask where you got your dress” she exclaimed.

“Actually, I designed it myself”

“Wow! Is that what you do?” she exclaimed, even more impressed than before. I nodded and the smile on her face broadened.

“My friend is getting married in three months and were still looking for dresses. Do you have a card or something?”

“Yeah, my store is in Santa Monica” I replied, pulling a card from my purse and handing it to her.  We found a seat in the reception area so she could show me designs and ideas that they were leaning towards. Our conversation started off about fashion, but the next thing I knew, she was showing me pictures of an older brother she was hoping to hook me up with.

“He’s cute right?’ she asked holding her phone up to show me. “He’s a really good guy and I think ya’ll would look so cute together”

“Yeah, he’s cute, but I have a boyfriend.” I lied, barely even looking at the picture. Who meets someone and tries to hook their brother up all in the same breath? 

“Damn. You would make a cool as sister-in-law, plus you could give me a niece or nephew with those pretty eyes.” she chuckled. “Let me know if that boyfriend of yours ever gets to acting up. I promise my brother is a good catch.” 

“Where’s your brother tonight?” I asked out of curiosity.

“Back home. We’re from Texas. I’ve been coming out here every six weeks or so to help my friend with her wedding planning. She’s getting married in August so I’ll be doing that for at least another few months”

“Well you’re a good friend. I had to hire a wedding planner when I was engaged”

“Oh, so you’re divorced?”

“No, we actually didn’t make it down the aisle”

“Well at least you found out it wasn’t meant to be before actually sealing the deal. Divorces can get really ugly”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Kind of. My parents were divorced and they treated each other like shit through the entire process, scarred me for life. I always said I’d never get married because of them, but now I don’t know. I’m dating this amazing guy now and he is literally the whole package. It’s still early, but he could be the one.” she beamed. It was obvious she was in love by the way her eyes seemed to sparkle when speaking of him.

“Well I hope it all works out for you” 

“What about you? Is the guy you’re dating the one?”

“I don’t know” I shrugged. 

“Well maybe he isn’t. I think it’s an obvious feeling, something you can’t ignore. I still think you should give my brother a try” she winked.

“Nicki’s about to toss the bouquet” one of the bridesmaids interrupted us and I couldn’t have been more grateful. Tae, along with at least a dozen other girls jumped up to follow her. I was thankful for the interruption but uninterested in participating. There wasn’t anything exciting about getting knocked around for a bouquet.

“Thank God I already have my husband, these bitches out there stretching like they’re about to jump hurdles” Mel laughed, as she took a seat next to mine. “Who’s that girl you were talking to?”

“I just met her. I guess her friend is getting married and she’s been looking for the perfect dresses” I explained as Nicki did her countdown. 

“Oh yeah? The best thing about weddings is networking” she nodded. “Although, I didn’t realize you were customizing pieces for people”

“Well I did design my own wedding dress.  I haven’t really put much thought into it before, but you know I’m always up for a challenge” I replied as Nicki tossed the bouquet. The women went crazy, and a couple of them ended up on the ground rolling, until one finally gave in and let go. 

“Babe! I got it!” Tae exclaimed for everyone to hear before jumping up and running over and kissing some guy right in the mouth. Mel and I couldn’t help but laugh at how serious she was about that bouquet until she pulled away and I realized the guy she had just kissed was Chris.

“Robbie. Don’t do it” Mel warned when I jumped up out of my seat.

“Relax. I’m just going to get some air. I’ll be back” I replied rolling my eyes.

“Get it together. Get it together.” I repeated over and over, once I got outside. Just when I got my emotions under control, I heard someone vomiting so loud, it made me gag.

I followed the noise until I found Nicki by the side entrance of the hotel, dry heaving.

“You good sis?” I asked, grabbing her hair out of the way and rubbing her back at the same time.

“I'm okay” she sighed, when she finally caught her breath.

“Good, because I wouldn't want you to ruin this beautiful dress”

"It really doesn't matter. My makeup is ruined, my edges are sweated out, and my feet are so swollen that I can barely even fit in these shoes. The one day I’m supposed to be beautiful and I look like shit"

"Stop. You are beautiful and Sam is the luckiest man in the world, he gets to spend the rest of his life with you."

"Yeah he is kind of lucky huh?" she giggled as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Yeah and you're lucky too. Sam is a good one”

"Thanks. This baby just has me on an emotional roller coaster” she confirmed my suspicions. 

“You’re pregnant?” 

“Yeah, and that’s not the reason we decided to move up the ceremony” she added.

“Who cares? As long as you’re happy. I know how stressful this wedding shit can be, but it’s done now so you just hang in there a little longer. Are you guys going on a honeymoon?”

“Yeah, we’re going straight to Jamaica when we leave here” she grinned with excitement.

“Good. Ya’ll get to take some time out to enjoy each other since ya’ll are always so busy with work.”

“Yeah I need this vacation” she agreed. “I’m sorry I haven’t been all that great with picking up the phone lately. How have you been?” She asked, turning the focus on me.

“Good. Business is good, so I’ve been busy too”

“But are YOU good?” she clarified her question.

“Yeah. I’m in a better space these days. Thanks for asking” I smiled. Even though we’ve been distant since Chris and I broke up, I still considered her a good friend.

“You know, I'm sorry you and Chris didn't work out, I always thought you guys would end up married. Anyway, you look great and he’s happier than I’ve seen him in a long time.”

“Is he really?” I blurted curiously. I didn’t want to believe he could be all that happy without being with me, at least that’s how I felt when it came to him.

“He seems to be. I met his girlfriend today and she seems nice. I’m happy for him. As crazy as this may sound, he never meant you any harm. I know my brother, he’s been through a lot, but he really is one of the good guys.”

"There you are!” Katy announced, out of nowhere. “Sam’s looking for you inside" It was time for them to wrap it up and the groom was ready to take off with his bride, so my prying was cut short. We said our goodbyes, then I grabbed Mel so we could leave before the rest of the reception did. My buzz had just started to kick in and I’d planned on staying longer, but I wasn’t ready to accept the fact the Chris has truly moved on and I refused to be in the same room as him and his ‘girlfriend’.

CHRIS

The wedding was officially over, Nicki and Sam were already on their flight to Jamaica, and Tae and I were on our way back to my place when I finally exhaled. I halfway enjoyed myself, but after my own experience, weddings give me the heebie jeebies, and I was glad to be done with it. After Trey’s wedding in August, I don’t think I’ll accept anyone else’s offer to be in their wedding. They are stressful and obviously not my thing.

I honestly didn’t know if I could even see myself walking down the aisle anymore. I still embrace the possibility of getting married and starting my own family, but I don’t think I’d go through the trouble of having a big wedding. 

“I really hope Trey and Lala’s wedding turns out at least half as beautiful as Nicki’s. Everything was perfect” Tae stated, breaking the silence. We were both exhausted from dancing most of the night, but I could tell she was a little tipsy on top of that.

“Yeah, it was so perfect that you wouldn’t even know the bride was considering leaving the groom at the alter” I chuckled as her eyes popped wide open.

“Really? Why? Did he do something?” she asked in surprise.

“Nope. That man has been a perfect gentleman to Nicki since the beginning. I think it was just the pregnancy hormones mixed with a little pre-wedding jitters”

“Wow, I guess that happens a lot more than you would think. I feel like it’s something simple: if you love 'em, marry 'em. People overthink things and work themselves up for no reason all the time” she replied shaking her head.

“Yeah, I see what you mean, but on the other hand, marriage is forever. At least that’s how I see it anyway. I think it’s something you should overthink, but not on the day you’re supposed to be walking down the aisle. You should think about it while you are dating, and even more so after someone proposes, but definitely way before the actual wedding day.”

“So, have you been thinking about it?” she quizzed, stifling a yawn. 

“About what? Marriage?” 

“Yeah, you said it’s something you should think about while dating. We’re dating. Has it crossed your mind yet?” she repeated.

“Honestly, no. We’re still trying to get to know each other, still in the early stages”

“True, but I also feel like sometimes you just know, you just feel it” she replied before drifting off into a daze. I didn’t voice it, but I understood exactly what she meant. I had the same feeling the first time I met Robyn, but I knew there was no way I could admit that to Tae without her feeling weird about it.

I had intentions of introducing Tae to Robyn tonight, but before I got up the nerve, Robyn was gone. For some reason, I still wasn’t comfortable talking about Robyn with her. It was like I needed them to see how great the other one was without an awkward situation. 

I glanced over at Tae and couldn’t help but chuckle because she was passed out with her mouth wide open. She was a good girl and deserved to be treated as such, so I promised myself I wouldn’t fuck her up like I did Robyn. I was going to put everything I had into this, which meant I had to introduce them soon.

#robyn rihanna fenty #chris brown #ff #fanfiction #fanfic #rihanna

[danvssomethingorother]

Yondu Claus

Summary: While cleaning out the Quadrant, Peter finds an old box of his old letters to Santa.

A03 

For the 12 Days of Stamora. I wanted to do something different and didn’t focus directly on the holiday but its there and Stamora is there too but its subtle.

—

Hoarding was a nasty habit and it usually carried from ravager to ravager, it was their own little tradition. Ravagers only became what they were after a hard life of nothing, so it was no surprise hoarding became a nasty habit and it was hard, so hard to break.

Kraglin and Peter had been banned from cleaning together on this mission to make the Quadrant more livable for the seven of them. The last time they had worked together they had deemed every item they found in the cargo that had already been caving in with the garbage from ravagers that were dead and unable to use them, necessary and vital for the ship. They had even managed to get more shit in the already over packed cargo by transferring all the junk deemed garbage by the other guardians down there. They had reasoned if it was all in one place, it was out of the way but the others were less willing to accept that. They had jobs to do, they would need the cargo area one day, the shit with no use needed to go.

Both of them had been assigned chaperones while they cleaned and neither were happy to be treated like children.

Peter considered he got lucky though, sitting on the floor with Gamora over seeing him as he dug through a crate that had once belonged to Yondu opposed to his older brother who likely had a gun inches from his head while he argued with Rocket about why he should be able to keep this box.

“I know I’m not making this easy,” he finally said facing Gamora taking his attention off the box for a moment, “But its just…hard.”

Gamora sighed and squatted down on the floor next to him and nodded placing her hand on his shoulder and squeezing it. She didn’t say anything and she didn’t need to, this was hard and they all knew it. Junking shit that belonged to dead people just didn’t feel right even if they had never personally known any of the ravagers that stashed their garbage in the third quadrant to keep anyone else from stealing their hoard.  

Looking at this garbage brought to mind his old home back on Earth and all his mother’s Earthly belongings. Her records, her tapes, that guitar she had tried to learn to play, that big basket of knitting supplies she inherited from her own mother, all long gone by now. All of it probably destroyed years ago, leaving nothing left of her on Earth. The only proof Peter would have to prove she was once here and had loved him had been destroyed by his own father, leaving nothing to remember her by. He took a large breath and Gamora helped steady him squeezing his shoulder tighter as he slid a crate close to him that had belonged to his adopted father.

He pulled a large, hole ridden sock that smelled like it was fresh off Yondu after he wore it for a month and groaned tossing it into the garbage pile. It was a little easier doing this without Kraglin at his side sliding rose colored glasses over his eyes painting a different picture of the past and convincing him they couldn’t get rid of that! It may look like garbage, but it has history.

Peter could tell you whatever history that nasty sock had and the equally as nasty underwear he pulled out after, he didn’t want to know and could just go without the smell.

Gamora smiled patting his arm and settling next to him to get a better view of the rest of the box with him.

“I know Yondu probably didn’t use half this shit after just tossing it in here neither did Tulk or Horuz or any of the other half a dozen men who hid their shit in here, but it still feels weird to have to get rid of their things. The things that proved they were here, that they were alive and lived on this ship longer then I have even been alive. Tossing the garbage should be easy but its not and I hope Rocket isn’t being too hard on Kraglin, he’s taking it way harder then I am.”  

“I think Rocket understands,” Gamora said simply touching the box silently asking permission to dig into it as well.

Peter nodded before speaking a little more of what was on his mind.

“I know. Rocket understands. Maybe even better then me….I wasn’t there for most of their deaths and caused Yondu’s.”

Gamora straightened and simply wrapped her arms around Peter’s waist and tilting her head firmly towards the box. Work through your pain, you will feel better soon and I love you that look told him firmly. Peter smiled, she understood what he needed.

“Ego killed Yondu and I will keep saying it till you believe it,” she said after a moment turning his head towards hers for a moment, “He killed your mother. You are no more at fault then I am. Being born is no more your fault then my own. We are what we are and we clean up the messes the monsters in our lives make.”

“First we clean out the garbage then we kill Thanos?” he asked smiling as her fingers gently swiped his tears back.

“Naturally, if you want to get more fame for killing another tyrant, you better get working on sorting that box.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mock saluted tossing another crusted and aged sock into the garbage pile.

In truth, Peter didn’t really know who Yondu was in life, neither had ever attempted to get a deep meaningful understanding of the other. Going through this garbage he had hoped to get to know the people who helped define him through what they left behind but so far he found most of it was meaningless garbage they were just trying to hide from the other crew members. Nothing they needed, nothing they really wanted, but god damn did they not want to part with it.

Quill wasn’t ready to tell Gamora but when he was younger he spent a lot of time here in this quadrant surrounded by this junk feeling he meant as much. Not useful, not loved, not wanted but kept around just in case. The part of his brain that was trained to feel and think that also kept it open that his friends felt that way about him too and being down here surrounded by all this junk that they were slowly but surely tossing into the trash made those unwanted thoughts break into his conscious mind.

There is only so much use you can get out of a novelty Terran who’s vocabulary mainly consisted of out dated pop culture references before you got bored and discarded it after all.  

“Who is ‘Santa’?”

Peter jerked his head towards Gamora who had begun digging in the box again while he took a small reprieve into his own self-pity. He didn’t answer her right away, furrowing his brows and taking the old note book page that was folded into a make shift envelope, yellowing around the edges from age but his scratchy hand-written word was readable still even after all this time. He choked on his own laugh taken by such surprise seeing it. He always assumed these notes would be lost to time but no, Yondu had found each and every one he realized digging further into the box and finding more pages like the one in his hand.

“Fuck,” he whispered shaking his head, “I thought these damn things were destroyed. I guess it makes sense Yondu found all my notes and hid them away before the rest of the crew could make fun of me. Damn hoarder, only he would keep this shit.”

“Who were they for? A relative of yours?” Gamora asked taking one of the notes from the crate that had been hidden under a large pile of dirty laundry.

“No,” he said beginning to turn red as he turned his head away, “Its going to sound really stupid. Probably even insane considering you barely know what Christmas is…”

“A religion?” she inquired and Peter chuckled shaking his head, turning the letter over in his hands not really wanting to open it yet.

“Kinda. I mean there is the Christ stuff but mom, she didn’t believe in god…” he sighed flicking the tiny folded letter back into box and staring off. She had a right to, but sadly she did give her devotion to a god and he destroyed her.

“It’s a Terran holiday. A gift giving holiday about peace and love and family and friends and all that good stuff. Santa was this dude who loved everyone and if you were good enough, he would give you gifts…”

Gamora sneered at that and shook her head.

“He must not have loved everyone equally if you have to be deemed worthy for him to give you gifts.”

“He wasn’t real,” Peter laughed, “I think he only existed to sell Coke products and for parents to instill fear into their kids about being nice or Santa won’t get you the toy you wanted.”

Peter fell into silence after that, just staring sadly at the dozens of letters because for him, so long ago, Santa was real. He was a kid with a dying mother, he was an orphan abducted by aliens and he needed desperately to believe in something. People around him in the hospital told him to pray, his mother sneered to his grandfather god didn’t exist and she didn’t want to see his bible again but she always softly assured him Santa was there and he was always watching and knew he was good. So Santa became a cathartic concept to vent his problems to in letters for years. Sticking those letters begging for help into mail boxes on Earth and sticking them into cargo crates on the Eclector. Maybe he always knew no one was going to help him and when he ran out of paper in his note book he stopped writing but they helped him have just enough hope to make it through that first year so he never complained. In hindsight it was obvious Yondu would find them.  

“Then why did you write to him so much?” Gamora asked picking up one of the letters and flipping it between her fingers.

“He was a magical being who people told me knew everything,” he said turning his smuggest smile Gamora’s way but she didn’t by it for a second, she saw the sadness and pulled him close to her as he talked. Head resting on his broad shoulder and hand rested in his hair.

“I was eight, stupid, scared and didn’t know what I wanted, I just knew I didn’t want to be here.”

“May I read one?” she asked kissing Peter on the cheek before pulling away from him to get a better look at the folded notes on the bottom of the crate, mixing them around to grab one at random.

Peter nodded but inside his insides were twisting up, he eyed the letter she began to unfold and wanted nothing more then to knock it from her hands.

“Dear Santa,

It’s me, Peter again, I know I keep writing to you and I’m not sure I have been good enough for you to grant me this big of a favor but can you please take me home or at least let me live in the North Pole with you? I could be an elf. I could be whatever ya wanted me to be. Please just help. Please. Last night one of the big aliens hit me and I have been in the vents for hours waiting for them all to go to bed. It hurts and I’m scared. I’m not even sure what I did wrong this time. I am trying so hard but he hates me so much. It’s like he just has fun pushing me around and I know no one cares enough about me to help. Please…I promise I will make it up however ya want. Just take me away from here.

Love, Peter Jason Quill.”

Peter remembered this letter and groaned to himself. One of the larger recruits like smacking him around when no one was looking and he was scared but didn’t want to go to Yondu fearing he would harm him for coming to him with useless problems. Again. He always shoved Peter away when he came to him afraid, so Peter hadn’t really trusted him to solve this problem and knew he couldn’t. So instead he made up a fantasy that someone could, if he was good enough and asked nice enough. He groaned and rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. He really was a brain dead child.

Peter was surprised when Gamora kept going.

“I may not be Santa but I took care of it. No need to be an elf, yer good enough where you are.”

Peter grabbed the letter from Gamora and looked at the sloppy hand writing underneath his own and stared in awe. Yondu had gotten rid of that guy, taking him out on a private mission he never came back from he remembered.

“Do you want to read the rest of them?” Gamora asked.

“No,” Peter whispered pocketing the letter, “This one is good.”

Gamora smiled at him and pulled him into a hug before declaring it was time for a break. Once Peter was half way across the room, she picked the box off the ground. Peter could read them whenever he was ready to see how much his adopted father did love him.

#12 days of starmora #stamora #Peter Quill #Gamora #Guardians of the Galaxy #MCU #Dan's fics #I tried #I think this fits day one best as a prompt but I was late

[crossyourminds]

You Want 2 Know My Story?

Well, if this is my story being told to you, I would like to write it in a format more fitting for my persona. I just never really liked the whole, “limit your imagination to five paragraphs and two hundred and fifty words,” kind of thing. My name, is Adrey Arroyo. I am not your average 19 year old with daddy’s money or dreams of being a doctor. I, just like any other being on this Earth, have come across many different obstacles that have brought me to where I am today. And today, I’m sitting in front of a computer screen expressing that change.

Going to school as an obese, Mexican, child in the predominantly white world I call Santa Clarita, I was never really considered accepted or cool enough to talk to. Previously living in East Palmdale, the “hood,” was no different. I was constantly bullied verbally and physically. I was “that kid.” The fat kid. Not having many friends or anyone that wanted to play handball with a handball, I resorted to writing. I figured if I couldn’t have any friends, than I could create them with my mind using a piece of paper and pencil. I began to write and draw. I always enjoyed comparing things to reality. Like colors to emotions or pictures to sounds. Just being able to understand one thing more than once truly fascinated me.

Just like life at school, life at home was no different. Constantly looked upon as a self image, my father considered himself a failure when he would see the public point or laugh at me. My father, was my biggest bully. He was the voice inside my head. “Don’t eat this,” or “you can’t do that,” is pretty much what I grew up with. My mother was the more caring soft spoken one, at times. Although caring and being spoken to softly was nice from time to time, my mother had trouble staying happy. See my mom flipped her emotions faster than a coin toss at a football game.

Not having anyone to truly rely on or consider a true friend, I feared school. I was terrified of what occurred behind the walls of Saugus High school. I didn’t wanna go. But I had reached a point in my life of pure exhaustion. I had grown with so much anger and no way to release it, I was bound to explode. I was tired of the name calling. I was tired of the laughing. I was tired of the exclusion. I was tired of the bullshit. So I lost it.

I lost 65 pounds that summer going into my freshman year. I started school as a completely different person. Although that difference was merely physical, I was still an awkward kid and feared talking to someone other than my reflection. I was no longer pointed at for the rolls on my sides. Shit. I wasn’t  even acknowledged anymore. I went from creating so much attention among the student body to nothing but a ghost that walked the campus. Invisible. A nobody.

At this point, I had never been more confused in my entire life. I did what they all wanted me to do. I lost weight. I lost the fat they all knew me for and now they didn’t even have the decency to say hi to me. I was more mad now than fat. I gave up again. Except this time, it wasn’t physical. This, is when it hit me. I gave up trying to be accepted. To me, this was my fate. I let go.

I no longer cared. If you wanted to talk to me I would talk back, and if not than I didn’t. I figured I owed it to myself to be happy and if I couldn’t be happy than I could at least create something that would. My words of imagination throughout the years were still piling up. But paper just couldn’t capture it anymore. I was no longer satisfied with letters on a sheet of a dead tree. I needed life. I needed images. I needed to create these words to reality. I wanted us, to understand us. I need the world to understand our one world more than once. So I joined my video production class as a freshman in high school.

They say comfort brings out the best in you, and I think that’s what Mr. Williams’ video class taught me that year. I had never been more comfortable with a crowd. I finally felt accepted with being myself. (Who woulda known that it would have ever been in from of the camera?) I found myself heavily into the film community at school, both in front and behind the camera. I became (somewhat) the face of my school’s news (SNN : Saugus News Network). I became the popular kid. I became the exact, social, opposite of what I was just  a few years ago.

Life as a high school, ignorant, popular kid always disgusted me. I hated the bullying and the put downs, so I made sure I connected and socialized with all personalities. I was an awkward person. But the only popular one. I reached out to those going through personal issues like that of myself. I was referred to the safe school ambassadors club and later referred to a students mentor training. After 6 months of after school psychological training, I was certified as one of my high schools student mentors (student psychologist). So in a way I guess I have the mind of a psychologist. The mind and it’s constant flips truly attracted me.

Again, needing a new form of releasing my understandings of the mind, I needed a new form of “preaching” if you will. I was introduced to music after a relentless breakup. The typical high school sweet heart heartbreak. She cheated on me. This being the cutest girl I’ve ever spoken to, let alone the only girlfriend I’ve ever had, I was unprepared for the dark times my mind was about to go through. I reached a stage of pure confusion and depression where I just became hungry with my thoughts and could not keep them in any longer.

The following morning, I skated my ass over to best buy and bought myself a keyboard with the money I was gonna use for her christmas present. This by far was the best investment I have ever made. I locked myself in my room and literally taught myself to play by sound. Hungry for release, I poured my little heart out on these keys. This wack breakup story is literally what brought me into the world of sounds and their power behind what those words can really do to someone.

Although a lot of my songs were soft as fuck, my anger about the situation started making it’s appearance a lot more comfortable around me. I think just being so secluded with nothing but your pissed heart broke ass you tend to go a little crazy. This, is when “dre.” was born. I found comfort releasing my anger almost literal as another persona. Someone much darker that was nothing of my real personality. A form of diary, if you will. I guess that’s when my boy Javier made a remix beat to System of a Down’s Lonely Day, and the hate letter I had wrote to my ex (never intended to send to her) started to just flow over the beat.

This song is what created my music outlook today. To tell the truth and help you understand that there is more than one way of understanding something, and that’s completely okay. You’re not crazy, there’s other people out there experiencing the same shit you are. You are not alone. The ironic beauty, Lonely Day, is what established me as an artist in the LA area. The utter truth. Who woulda known so many would be so inspired by it?

Losing a best friend and 17 years old was also quite a stir in my personality, but after months of retaliation and personal obstacles, I found myself at ease with Nutmeg. Feeling loss and truly experiencing it will fuck you up, but it’s whether or not you get yourself out of it to acknowledge what exactly it was that you lost. Now admiring what I still have, I cherish those moments with those around me who helped me change and grow into the artist I am today.

Graduating without the presence of my father, made it pretty obvious that both he and I never really had a relationship. I moved out days after the ceremony and began my job as a production assistant for a production company in hollywood. I had to grow up. Fast.

Life won’t ever hit you harder than when you first realize you have bills and food to buy. Without meeting those standards, you ain’t getting no where. I think that same stress just being piled on me, along with my fathers, is what really fucked up my body. That december, I was diagnosed with osteoporosis and possible osteosarcoma, leading to several prescription drugs and labs. Mysecond home was now the hospital. Living at my own expense and stubbornness, I kept the whole cancer ordeal to myself. I didn’t let any body know, including my family. I received radiation treatment on my cranium to loosen and release any cells and liquids within my brain. So, let’s just say I got part of the idea of being a patient.

After months of bipolar doctors, giving me one hope and shooting it down with a lab, I gave in. I told my mom and she pleaded that I moved in. Again being a stubborn fuck, I asked my mom that she kept it to herself and that the only way I’m moving back home, is if I don’t live in the house. (I could not live under the same roof as my pops) So we began the studio building process. After a few weeks of construction my backyard studio and lounge was built. The Tabernacle was born. I moved into my studio and spend almost all of my time just vibing in there. I had it built with a recording booth along with a two way mirror into it. The other half of the studio is a blank wall I use for shooting my films n photos.

A year later, I’m finally able to start physical activity and work again. I’ve been without a job for months now because I couldn’t stand for over ten minutes without creating too much pressure on my spine and cranium. Funny story is that I also just lost my newest girl to it. I guess seeing me become a loser due to medical shit just wasn’t attractive to her anymore. It’s a beautiful thing to hear a doctor tell you you’re good. Not just, fine, but YOU GOOD. Losing people in this road to recovery has only opened my eyes to a broader audience. Getting through a bone disease without the support of my father has made my bones brittle but stronger. I got through this shit. I really got through this shit, and I didn’t become a disabled young adult, I really did get through this shit. On myown.

To help mesh why I wrote this big of an entry to my music link, is to help you understand what your listening to. To know not only the story behind the sound, but the building of it also. This is my diary to you. And as any individual who pertains to any higher being, keep that aside. Growing up as a strict catholic active in my church, I’ve had to learn how to put all that aside to help youunderstand more than once. Not only in your perspective, but those of your neighbors, your class mates, your annoyances and obsessions. This sound cloud page is a story being untold to you. You take your perspective on it. All I’m doing is reassuring you in what you might believe is right.

The choice is yours.

I am Adrey.

22 years old.

Alive.

And fucking breathing.

-dre.

(click on the music tab)

or

soundcloud.com/adreyarroyo

[spotlightsaga]

Kevin Cage of @spotlightsaga reviews... Santa Clarita Diet (S01E07) Strange or Just Inconsiderate? Santa Clarita Diet (S01E08) How Much Vomit? Airdate: February 3, 2017 @netflix Ratings: N/A Streaming Only Score: (S01E07) 8/10 (S01E08) 8/10 ******STRANGE OR JUST INCONSIDERATE?****** As usual there's just too many things going on in 'Santa Clarita Diet' to skip a review, or at least a quick reaction or recap. Slowing myself down by taking breaks in between episodes is literally infuriating. There are few shows out there that make just want to binge to the very end, but SCD is totally one of them. Let's make this quick tho, cuz dammit, this show is more effective than Prozac. Every episode brings a major breakthrough and that's not an easy job. Besides framing Dan and attempting to eat his body in one night, the real exciting moment here is the arrival of Deputy Anne Garcia, played by Natalie Morales - that's right; The Grinder, Parks & Rec, Girls, Trophy Wfe... Her deadpan delivery is a perfect addition to the hodgepodge of comedic styles that make up this kick-ass Horror-Comedy. Natalie delivers her lines in a way where you never really know where she's coming from, so putting her as the lead on Dan's missing person case is fn' perfect. She seems shocked (as would anyone) that The Hammond's liked Dan, because she is very well aware he is (was) an intolerable douchebag. She seems more interested in Lisa, and Lisa seems more interested in Anne's 'perfect fingers' to truly worry about Dan's actual whereabouts... So I think the set-up Eric assisted with leading the troopers to Dan's 'Im a Crooked Cop' box should do the trick. This is a huge win/win for Eric, who was worried about the smoke bomb he had planted in the garden that really just added more humor to Dan's unexpected death... Cuz who can be pissed off if they're already dead? Not Dan... Cuz he's dead, not undead. Loki still remains the wildcard tho, I'm thinking he's definitely going to be popping up very soon and with the way that this whole 'virus' of sorts has effected Sheila and put a pep in her step (sans the missing toe), I can't wait to see Loki in a similar disposition. Its 'Santa Clarita Diet' so I'm going to go ahead and expect pure fn' chaos! Queue up another one! **********HOW MUCH VOMIT?********** I literally had to rack my brain for half the episode... Who the fuck is The Edge?! The WWE fan in me automatically associates it w/the wrestler. The ex-raver in me associates it the famous Raver-Centric South Florida Nightclub (PLUR MAN ✌🏻)... But suddenly that iconic video from the early 90's, (fuck, the 90s were so rad) 'Numb' popped into my head... 'The Edge' is the guitarist dude in U2 who always wore the beanie, and he was in the chair the whole video while they tied him up and did random shit to him. Of course I'm loving 'Santa Clarita Diet' but they hit me with that pop culture reference and I immediately went back to 1993 and now I can't get back. This is completely off topic, but if I had a time machine and I had to pick a year to go back to and live, but as my age now... No doubt just rewind me to 1993. And U2 may be the worlds most hated band after that iPhone debacle, but back in 1993, they released 'Zooropa' and that has to be one of the greatest albums of all time. I'm still stuck over here, but wasn't it so fucking cool that in the 90s that Top 40 meant an array of genres from Indie to R&B to Hip Hop to Rock to Lo-Fi and every goddamn sub-genre in between...and not whatever it means now. Damn you, 'Santa Clarita Diet', Loki is killing everyone with his music and then attempting to kill Joel, Abby is attempting to bring home a dead man to her parents doorstep like a proud kitty cat and all I can think about is a 90's reference that lasted all of 30 seconds... You can't make early 90s or late 80s references or my mind completely goes off the rails. And for the record, Abby, if your mom wants to embrace a look and kill another zombie while looking like the guitarist/occasional vocalist from U2... Never say lose the beanie... Maybe even say keep the beanie and approach that kill with the spunk of Rayanne Graff and the thoughtfulness & reflection of Angela Chase... And YES, that's a 'My So-Called Life' reference!!! Who says we can't have 90s teen angst references with our Comedy-Horror too?! I admittedly snapped back at the end of the episode when Loki broke down their door and tried to kill Joel/exposed Sheila's whole toe issue that she'd been hiding out of obvious embarrassment. They barricaded themselves in their room and Joel gave an excellent '20 seconds or less' speech that assured Sheila that no matter what problem they faced they'd do it together. Joel has proved that double time already being there for Sheila every step of the way through this ordeal, but somehow hearing him say it out loud as Loki attempted to breakdown their barricaded bedroom door made it mean soooo much more... It was the most tender and honestly romantic moment of 'SCD' yet. Comedy-Horror is a hard enough genre to nail, but to pepper it with Romance & Flesh Eating Serbian Zombies, that's the mother ducking trifecta! 'Warm Bodies' couldn't do it, 'Zombie Honeymoon' couldn't do it, 'Life After Beth' almost did it, but 'Santa Clarita Diet' is over here doing it, y'all... And they're doing it well.

#Santa Clarita Diet #SCD #SCDiet #How Much Vomit? #Strange or Just Inconsiderate? #zombie mom #zombie series #zombie show #zombie #zombies #cannibalism #drew barrymore #sheila hammond #timothy olyphant #Joel Hammond #Liv Hewson #skyler gisondo #mary elizabeth ellis #Richard T Jones #joy osmanski #Natalie Morales #deobia oparei #Billy Malone #carla jimenez #netflix original #Netflix #streaming #Steve Pink #Aaron Brownstein #Victor Fresco