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makeitmingi · 9 months

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And They Called It Puppy Love

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Girlfriend!Reader, Boyfriend!Yunho

Summary: Despite your worries and concerns about your relationship, your golden retriever boyfriend Yunho never lets you stray too far. He's always right behind you, making sure he's always there for you with whatever you need. No, it's not just puppy love.

Word count: 4.2K

[A/N: Reader is a little insecure in this...]

The moment you class ended and you stepped out of the lecture hall, your phone rang. You looked down at the screen to see the caller ID, a small smile making its way to your face.

'Yuyu 🐾'

"How coincidental is it that you're calling just as I am stepping out of my lecture hall?" You laughed as you pressed the phone to your ear. Not wanting to have the conversation with other people around, you found a more quiet place to talk.

"Not a coincidence at all when I know your class schedule. How has your morning been? Sorry I didn't get to send you to uni today, I had to rush in for an early meeting at the office."

You could practically hear the disappointed pout in his voice but were touched by his intentions.

"No need to apologise, Yuyu. I wouldn't want you to be late because of me. Morning has been okay. How about you?" You asked.

"Same old same old. I can't wait to see you later today, tiny."

"Me too. It's been a long week and it would be nice to just relax with you." You sighed happily just at the thought. Even though you didn't live with Yunho, you did stay over at his place every Friday.

"Mmm, I'll leave you to go have your lunch. Make sure you eat a lot, tiny. Studying is important but eating and taking care of your health is more important!"

"I will, Yuyu. Have a nice day. I'll see you later." You giggled. Yunho was someone that took food and eating very seriously. He loved food and was a huge foodie. You remember being shocked by the amount of food he could eat. But being a foodie boyfriend also meant that he always made sure you were fed.

"Yes, you will. I love you, tiny."

"I love you too." You hummed and hung up. After that, you went to find your friends at one of the cafeterias on campus. You greeted them as you sat down.

"I guess I saw it coming. He started acting different and stuff." One of your friends lamented. She had just gone through a break up, ending a short but seemingly sweet relationship of 6 months.

"He probably just had puppy love." Another one pointed out.

"Puppy love?" You tilted your head.

"Mhmm. You know like just those crushes you used to get as a kid. They do everything to make you happy and impress you then once the puppy love dies, so does your relationship." She explained.

"That's probably why your relationship only lasted for 6 months." One added, making your other friends nod in agreement.

"Oh... I get it." You nodded your head, eating a bite of your food. That was when all the heads at the table turned to you. You blinked in confusion.

"(y/n), you've been in a relationship with Yunho for 8 months... Does he still act the same way as he did when you first started dating?" They asked. You thought about it for a while, thinking back to the moment when you and Yunho started dating.

"He's not as shy as he used to be? Other than that, he's still the same Jeong Yunho. He hasn't changed much in the last 8 months that we've been together." You shrugged.

"Ah, it's different with him. He's one of those golden retriever boyfriends. They're active with everyone they meet." One scoffed.

"Literal puppy love?" One teased.

"He chased you for a while, (y/n). There's nothing to worry about." One of them must have noticed the grim expression on your face and squeezed your shoulder.

Despite her comforting words of encouragement, you stared at your wallpaper of you and Yunho, slight worry settling in your heart. What if Yunho's puppy love for you just died down one day?

"We're kidding, (y/n). Really." The one who started this assured.

"Look at you and Yunho. You're couple goals, you both set the standard so high." They tried convincing you.

You wanted to correct them. You didn't set the bar high, Yunho did. They knew the lengths that Yunho went to, to do things that made you happy. Now that you think about it, you didn't do much for him. The excuse was that Yunho didn't let you do much because he was always one step ahead of you.

The only thing you did was cook for him because he wasn't very good at cooking.

"My love language is food!"

That was one of the first things Yunho told you, he loved it when you cooked for him. Other than that, Yunho mainly did a lot of things for you. He never really let you or liked you doing things for him.

Throughout the rest of the day, you tried to push aside that unnerving feeling that settled in your stomach and distract yourself with your classes.

'I got pork cutlet for lunch! San brought us to a new place. We'll come here next time! - Yuyu 🐾'

*Yuyu 🐾 sent 1 photo attachment*

Every time your phone lit up and you saw Yunho's smiling face or a message from him, it just reminded you of it again. You knew you were just overthinking now. With a sigh, you put your phone into your bag and focused on your notes.

"Hmm..." Yunho frowned with a tilt of his head as he stared intently a this phone screen.

"What's wrong, Yunho?" San, who was sitting across him and noticed the look on his face, asked. Yeosang, who was focused on his food also looked up.

"She read my text but didn't reply again..." Yunho said, looking at the 5th message that you left him on read.

"Maybe she's busy, hyung. She is in class after all." Jongho pointed out with his chopstick.

"No... If she's busy and can't reply, she will just not open the message. She only reads it if she knows she can reply." Yunho explained, he knew you and your habits well enough.

"Well, did she seem different when you called her earlier? Or was she acting weird, out of the ordinary?" Seonghwa asked. Yunho didn't answer, thinking about the phone call conversation that he had with you. The conversation wasn't long but you didn't sound upset or different to him.

"No. She was fine. We even talked about our plans for tonight and she seemed excited." Yunho blinked.

"Is that important?" He followed up with a question.

"You know the whole thing with relationships passing the 'honeymoon phase'... When the initial puppy love goes away, relationship dynamics change." Wooyoung shrugged.

"Yah, Wooyoung ah. Don't put such thoughts in his head. I'm sure that's not happening, Yunho." Hongjoong scolded Wooyoung and assured Yunho.

"No... It's okay. My relationship with (y/n) is definitely still going strong. We love each other a lot." Yunho said confidently.

"I can atest to that. All the phone calls and texting between the two of them... yuck." Jongho cringed.

"It's called love, Jongho. When you fall in love, you'll be the same too." San slung his arm around the younger's neck. Jongho gave the older a flat look, jabbing his side until San let go of him.

"I'm sure (y/n) still loves you and appreciates everything you do for her." Mingi patted Yunho's shoulder. They did think that Yunho was always doing too much but at the same time, that was how Yunho showed you he loved you, through acts of service.

"Maybe I'll get her some flowers later when I pick her up from university, to cheer her up if she's upset." Yunho decided.

"Or maybe she's not upset and just busy with university classes." Yeosang said with a shrug.

"Whether she is upset or not, I can still buy her flowers. I don't need a reason to buy my girlfriend flowers." Yunho said, already making a mental note to drop by the florist later.

"You're such a good boyfriend, Yuyu ah." Wooyoung leaned his head on his hand with a sweet smile, making Yunho blush.

"Only (y/n) calls him yuyu now." Mingi nudged the smaller male.

"Why? It's cute, I like it." Wooyoung protested.

"Exactly because (y/n) is cute when calling him that, that's why he only lets her call him that. And she lets him call her 'tiny' in return." Hongjoong reasoned.

"Ah, stop." Yunho covered his cheeks with a shake of his head, having enough of his friends teasing him. 'Yuyu' and 'tiny' are exclusive nicknames that you and Yunho have for each other. It sounded normal when you two used them but hearing others say it made Yunho feel shy.

"Okay, let's stop teasing Yunho. We need to finish up our food and get back to work." Seonghwa said. Yunho let out a sigh of relief, grateful to Seonghwa for stepping in.

But the thought lingered in Yunho's head, was he overbearing and driving you away? Were you starting to lose feelings for him?

Finally, university was done for the day and the week. You let out a tired sigh as you walked towards the campus exit. It was time to enjoy the weekend.

"Tiny!" Yunho jogged over to you before you could reach the exit. You couldn't help but smile as you saw his face.

"Yuyu." You greeted him back as he hugged you tightly, leaning over your small frame. You giggled and wrapped your arms around him.

"You've worked hard. Good job." He patted your back.

"Thank you. You too." You replied. When he pulled away, he held out a bouquet of flowers to you. People passing by stared at the two of you, thinking Yunho was handsome and sweet for giving you flowers. You softened, not expecting flowers from him.

"What's this for? I didn't forget a special day, did I?" You asked with a giggle as you received the bouquet. There was a card but you decided to read that later.

"I just felt like buying you flowers." He smiled, stroking your cheek.

"Well, they're lovely. It's a nice surprise. Thank you, Yuyu." You tiptoed to kiss his cheek. He blushed but the bright smile never left his face.

"Let's go." He held your hand. The two of you walked to where Yunho's car was parked. He opened the door for you to slide into the passenger seat.

"I'll put your bag in the back." He offered.

"Thanks. I'll hold onto these." You grinned, holding the bouquet in your lap. Yunho chuckled but nodded, putting your binder and bag into the backseat before running to the driver's side.

"Oh yeah, I got you this too. But I think the ice has melted." He scratched his head in embarrassment as he pointed to the cups in the cup holder. It was your favourite mixed fruit soda from a cafe you and Yunho frequent. They were the only one that had your favourite fruit combination.

"You drove all the way to get it?"

"I thought you might like it. I know you've been having a tiring week." Yunho turned to you.

"Thank you, Yuyu. Really. But seeing you and being with you is more than enough to make me feel better." You smiled up at him. Yunho cupped your cheek and gave you a sweet kiss.

"So where are we going now?" You asked.

"Would you like to order in or cook? If we're cooking, we can go get ingredients. My fridge is empty." Yunho informed.

"Let's cook then." You said. Yunho began driving. He had this habit, one hand would be on the wheel and the other hand would be on you either holding your hand or on your thigh.

It was nothing suggestive, purely innocent. Yunho just wanted to always be in contact with you.

"What would you like to eat tonight?" You asked as Yunho pulled into the parking space of the grocery store. He tapped his chin, thinking about his food craving. Yunho liked a lot of foods but he tried to think of easy food so you wouldn't be too tired after cooking.

"What about kimchi fried rice?" He suggested. Your face fell at the simple suggestion. Yunho always liked you cooking different dishes for him. Why was he suggesting a dish even he could make?

"I can cook something else..." You mumbled.

"Sure. Why don't you decide, tiny? I'll eat anything you cook." He kissed the back of your hand.

"Alright." You walked with him, thinking about dishes. Yunho excitedly ran to get a cart from the side. You were about to start walking in first when he called out to you.

"Wait for me, tiny!" He caught up, laughing. He grasped your hand and you smiled softly, walking beside him.

You decided to cook some of Yunho's favourite dishes, crispy pork belly, fresh kimchi (geotjori), garlic rice and marinated strawberries for dessert.

"From the ingredients, I'm excited to see what you cook." Yunho smiled, helping you reach over the counter to receive the meat from the butcher. If he got the hint or realised that you were just cooking his favourites, he never gave it away. You continued pushing the cart while Yunho momentarily stepped away.

"I need my essentials. Plus, we need movie snacks, right?" He dropped the ramen packs and snacks into the cart. You laughed as you looked what he got.

"You forgot your turtle chips." You pointed out.

"Oh, right! Thanks, tiny." He ran back to the chip aisle. You went to the fresh fruit section to grab whatever else you needed.

"Strawberries?!" His eyes lit up at the sight of you putting the punnets into the cart.

"I'll make the marinated strawberries you like." You smiled.

"Then we need ice cream! Be right back!" And he ran off just like that, making you laugh. Yunho always got so excited when food was the topic of discussion.

"Let me do it." He helped you load the items onto the conveyor belt for the cashier. Even after everything was bagged up, Yunho did most of the heavy lifting. He only let you carry the eggs.

When you arrived at Yunho's home, he immediately ran to get you your home slippers. He even slid them onto your feet for you.

"Thanks, Yuyu." You shuffled to his kitchen and put the groceries away. You've been over so many times that you just knew where everything was. Yunho's house wasn't big but it was comfortable for the two of you.

"Let me clean up a little. Be right back." He grabbed a trash bag and went to his study where he usually worked and gamed. You started on dinner since the pork needed a while to bake.

"Tiny, you forgot your apron." Yunho smiled softly, grabbing the apron off the hook.

"Arms up." He said as he carefully slipped the fabric over your head and reached around you to tie is securely. But he didn't let go, letting his arms stay around your waist.

"What's wrong?" You tilted your head as you looked up at him.

"Nothing. I just like looking at you... Can I kiss you?" He asked. You burst out laughing.

"You don't have to ask." You scoffed. Yunho grinned and leaned down to give you a kiss. He didn't pull away entirely, moving just so he could lean down to bury his face into the crook of your neck. You laughed as his hair tickled your skin. His arms tightened around your waist slightly.

"Yuyu, you have to let me go if you want dinner." You chuckled.

"I'd rather starve then." He protested.

"Why don't you help me?" You offered. At the thought of helping you, Yunho nodded excitedly. Suddenly, he ran back into his study and came back out with an item.

"I've been waiting for this. I finally get to use the new apron I bought. See?" He unwrapped it to show you proudly.

"It's very nice, Yuyu."

"Isn't it?! I bought it to match you." He beamed, slipping it over his head. But before he could tie it, you stepped forward to tie it for him, just like he always does with you.

"Tell me what to do chef!" He saluted. Although Yunho wasn't the best cook, he tried his best. And just being with him made everything feel fun. It wasn't tiring or lonely, it felt like time stood still and it was just you and him existing together in your own world.

"Hmmm..." Yunho watched you tasted the strawberries and the marinade that they were going to sit in. He didn't even know that he was staring at you with a smile on his face.

"Wae?" You blinked when you noticed him staring at you. He shook his head with a hum.

"Want a taste?" You held out a strawberry piece on a spoon. Yunho gladly leaned in to take a bite with you cupping your hand at the bottom to catch any drips.

"How is it?" You looked at him expectantly.

"Amazing." Yunho gave a thumbs up. Everything you made, Yunho thought was amazing.

"They'll taste better after they sit for a while. Could you wrap the bowl up for me, please?" You requested. He took the bowl and covered it with plastic wrap to put into his fridge.

Yunho loved these moments with you, just you and him in your own space. The little noises you made or random humming as you moved about, the way you would scrunch your nose when you were disatisfied with the taste, the way your lips would curl to the side when you were thinking.

"Careful, Yuyu." You cautioned as you took the sizzling pork out. And placed it on a trivet.

"You be careful, tiny. That oil is scary." Yunho said back to you but kind of dodged at the end of the counter, the splattering oil freaking him out a little.

"Do you want to help me cut it?" You asked, taking out the tongs and the knife.

"But I don't want to do it wrong." Yunho pouted.

"There's no wrong way, Yunho. Don't worry, we're the only ones eating it anyway." You chuckled. Yunho took the knife and tongs from you but you stood beside him to guide him.

"Tell me if I'm doing a bad job, okay?" He mumbled as he held the pork down with the tongs and began to slice with the knife.

"You're doing great, Yuyu." You smiled. Yunho was literally perfect, there was no way that he would do a bad job of anything, that's why you tried to at least get to half his level. After cutting the meat, he helped you put them on the serving dish.

"Can I have a kiss as a reward for doing a good job?" He asked. You rolled your eyes but of course you complied, never getting tired of his kisses and affection.

"Let's eat." You scooped the rice into two bowls while Yunho placed the geotjori and accompaniments on the table.

"Wow, tiny. You've out done yourself yet again. You never fail to amaze me with what you do." He reached out to hold your hand.

"W-What are you talking about?" You scoffed shyly.

You and Yunho started eating. Honestly, only after meeting Yunho, then you knew why parents felt full just by watching their children eat. Watching Yunho eat and enjoy food made you feel full.

"So good." Yunho smiled with his full cheeks of food. You laughed, reaching out to wipe the sauce that got on his lip.

"I'm glad you like it." You ate a bite of your food.

"Like it? I love it. I love anything you cook." He melted. You shot him a weird look but you couldn't help the smile on your face. Yunho always knew what to say and how to act around you, he just knew you well. You loved the way he never shied away from expressing his happiness and love.

"Don't forget, there's still dessert later." You reminded.

"There's no way I would forget. Don't worry, I'll finish everything. There's no such thing as waste here." Yunho said proudly. He took some geotjori and placed it onto your rice.

"You're so worried whether I have enough to eat that you're not eating." Yunho pouted.

"I am~" You whined. Yunho held a bite out to you, wanting to feed you. Your pursed your lips shut, knowing he was doing this to deliberately tease you.

"Come on, be good tiny. Ah~" He cooed.

"Yunho... Stop..." You felt your cheeks heat up as he continued to make baby sounds

"Ah~" He coaxed. You knew that he wasn't going to give up so you opened your mouth to take a bite, chewing begrudgingly. Yunho burst out laughing at the stink eye you were shooting him.

"Aigoo, my tiny eats so well." Yunho pinched your cheek, shaking your head slightly as he cooed at you. You squinted your eyes at him while he patted your head. He still had that big grin on his face while you finished up your dinner.

While Yunho did the dishes, you took a quick shower and finished up the dessert, putting the ice cream and strawberries into bowls for you and Yunho.

"This is the best." Yunho said, taking a bite. The both of you sat on the couch, with you tucked under Yunho's arm securely. There was a movie playing but you and Yunho weren't paying attention.

"Thank you for cooking, baby. I don't know how I survived before meeting you 8 months ago." Yunho kissed the top of your head.

8 months ago... "They do everything to make you happy and impress you then once the puppy love dies, so does your relationship." Your friend's words rang in your ears.

"Tiny?" Yunho noticed how stiff you got. But you spaced out, so deep in your thoughts as tears flooded your vision.

"Tiny!" Yunho saw the first tear spill and put his bowl aside.

"(y/n), what's wrong?!" He panicked, turning you around to face him entirely. He took your bowl from your hands to put it on the coffee table and practically carried you onto his lap, letting your legs drape over his own thighs. As he hands came up to cup your cheeks, he searched your eyes worriedly.

"You're scaring me, tiny..." Yunho whispered. But you just couldn't stop the tears from continuously falling down your cheeks as soft sobs escaped you.

"Hug me?" You croaked. He didn't even hesitate, holding you against his chest.

"Shh, tiny..." Yunho stroked the back of your head as you cried .

"Please don't leave me... I promise I'll try harder." You cried, bunching the materials of his shirt in your fists, as if he was going to walk away from you right this instance.

"Leave you? Baby, why would I leave you?!" Yunho held your shoulders, he couldn't hide the shock he felt from your words.

"I'm worried you'd get sick of me after we've been together for a while." You sniffled.

"Wait, the boys were talking about this earlier. 'Honeymoon phase' and 'puppy love'. Is that what you're worried about?" Yunho clarified. You nodded in your head in confirmation. Yunho could held but soften, leaning forward to give you a lingering kiss.

"Tiny, you don't have to worri about that. With me, the only puppy love you're getting is me being a literal golden retriever and following you everywhere." Yunho rubbed your cheek with his thumb.

"It's just... you do everything for me. And I barely do anything for you. Won't you get tired of doing that?"

"I do those things for you because I want to do them. It's one of the ways I show you I love you. Plus, you cook for me and in my book, that surpasses everything else." Yunho scoffed.

"Honestly, I was worried I was being overbearing. And that I should give you more space." He confessed.

"Yuyu... never. You're never overbearing. I love you and appreciate everything you do for me. I don't want space, I don't want to be anymore further from you than I already am." You held his hand.

"I'm glad to hear that. Because I feel the same." Yunho lifted you up in his arms.

"Yunho!" You squealed, wrapping your arms around his neck. He walked into his room and put you on his bed, crawling into the space beside you. He held you close, his much larger frame enveloping your smaller one as your limbs tangled themselves together. Leaning down, he nuzzled his nose against your cheek.

"You're never too much. I'll gladly do anything for you like froth your milk for your lattes in the morning." Yunho chuckled.

"You just like playing with my automated frother..." You rolled your eyes.

You remembered when you showed Yunho the electric whisk. He was so excited and that ended up with you have so much milk foam in your coffee.

"True." He grinned.

"But i'm seriously, I'll always be right there beside you, okay? I'll come whenever you call, whenever you need me. I'm there." He stared into your eyes, brushing your hair away from your face.

"Me too." You placed your hand on his cheek as he smiled sweetly. He chuckled, peppering your face in kisses, making you scrunch your nose.

"You're stuck with me. I'm not gonna let you go so easily." He hugged you to emphasise his point.

"I'm very okay with that." You giggled.

"Good. Because you don't have a choice." He laughed.

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calummss · 9 months

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Do You Get Déjà Vu | Thomas Shelby

masterlist

summary: thomas doesn’t come to pick up his daughter. you decide to take her home only to find a man of a table with a bullet in his chest and a lot of deja vu

pairing: fem! reader x thomas shelby

words: 1.6k

a/n: just fluff and comedy tbh… not my usual angst i promise also, this takes place in 1919 because season 1 tommy has my heart. helena is around 9/10 years :)

How you disliked summer. Sweat pearls dripping simply sitting and breathing. Delicate fabric sticking to you like a bee and its honey. It was simply too hot for a woman to be wearing layers of modest clothing but here you were, sitting in front of your desk; no countertop in sight, too many different documents sprawled across the surface, each waiting on your eyes and conscious to scan it and then evaluate whatever category it fell into.

‘Miss Verys?’ Katie’s voice pulled you out of your slump, yet your heart skipped a beat when you saw her come closer with an arm full of newer papers that acquired your attention.

‘Please tell me you are joking…’

‘I fear not, Miss,’ she pressed her lips together as she placed them onto the right corner, the surface area with less than ten documents. ‘But these are all for the week.’ She smiled.

‘Finally some good fucking news,’ you huffed, ‘Sorry,’ you tilted your head when you realised Katie was taken aback by your choice of words.

‘Also I don’t wish to add more to your plate but Helena is still present. It seems Mr. Shelby has yet to pick her up. Do you want me to stay and wait with her?’

‘Katie you are truly an angel, really, I am so grateful but you are being paid to work on from eight to three, I couldn’t let you do that. Legally and from my heart.’ You curled your lips, fingers rubbing against the sheet of paper you were waiting to flip. ‘Just tell Helena to pack her things and to come to my office. Since I will be busy reading through all of these I might end up staying for quite a while.’

‘Of course. And thank you, Miss Verys, have a good day.’

‘You too.’

Katie left and you were stuck in front of an ocean of paper. If you had known that directing a school was so strenuous you might’ve thought about inaugurating a school twice. But it was a lovely institute. A school for girls with the most brightest and innovative minds, no runner up to men but competition with finest ideas.

Momentarily Helena came through the door and patiently stood at the door frame, her bag in her grip.

‘Hello Helena,’ you smiled at her. ‘Your father is not here yet?’

‘No.’

‘That’s okay, just wait here with me. I have much work and since we’re the only ones here I thought company would be nice, no? Sit,’ you pointed to the chair, Helena still standing at the entrance barely having moved.

Helena hummed in response.

‘So,’ you grabbed one of your quills to start signing documents that needed your signature. ‘What do you like to do when you’re not at school or doing homework? I am pretty sure you like horse riding?’

‘I do.’

‘Something else perhaps?’

‘Recently we bought a family car,’ Helena had sat down in the chair, laying her bag beside her as she relaxed into the seat. ‘When we got it we drove through the countryside…it was so thrilling. The wind on my face felt different to when I am riding. Daddy looked so happy too. I like cars.’

‘My my, what a riveting experience.’ You glanced at her from your work. ‘I remember my first time in a car. Felt exactly like how you described it.’

Helena beamed back you, her bright blue eyes gleaming with excitement, ‘My uncle Finn liked the car ride at first too but we had to stop because he got sick,’

‘And did you?’

‘No, I felt great. I love cars.’

‘I too think cars are the greatest innovation since the marvellous idea to roast and ferment cocoa beans to make chocolate.’ You let out a lighthearted laugh, infecting Helena with the same giggle.

‘I like chocolate.’

‘You do?’ Your lips curled. ‘Do you want one? I might have a bit stashed somewhere between all this energy-consuming work,’

‘I’ve only had it twice,’ Helena began another story, ‘It is very expensive and my father says it is bad for your teeth and that you mustn’t eat too much of it. He said that when he was visiting London he met a man outside of the sweet shop who became so round, simply for eating a lot of chocolate.’

‘Well best you have only one piece then,’ you put a piece into your mouth before giving her her piece. ‘This is my favourite. Got it from Cornwall. They make the best sweets.’

Taking the piece you handed her, she started eating it, her eyes in awe.

‘What about your father, Helena?’

‘What about him?’

‘What does he do for work?’ You asked, amusingly raising your eyebrows before taking the second heap of documents before you.

Helena hesitated. ‘I don’t think I can say.’

‘Why not?’

‘Family business…’

‘Family business?’ You looked up, Helena nodding her head in response. ‘I’m just curious that’s all. When you speak of him, you speak endearingly. You seem to have a very good relationship.’

‘We do.’ She ate the last bite, looking around the room. ‘If he wasn’t my father he would be my best friend.’

‘How sweet.’

With an easy lead conversation, time passed quicker than expected. But an hour later and Mr. Shelby still hadn’t come to pick up Helena.

With minutes passing you realised that Mr. Shelby wouldn’t show up anytime soon. It was also way past closing time so you had to start locking up the building. You thought it best to walk Helena home to see if anyone was there and if not you’d take her back to yours so she would have a safe place to stay until anyone got in touch.

‘Hello?’ You knocked against the door, the hard wooden door aching your knuckles as you repeatedly hit against it. ‘This is Miss Verys from Small Heath Institute for Girls. I have your daughter Helena with me as she has not been picked up yet.’ Your breath ricocheted off the door.

Seconds later you could hear the lock turning and were greeted by an older woman, her hair all over the place as her dark eyes burned into yours. Feeling as if she were about to take a jape at you, you quickly jumped back into your sentence. ‘I’m so sorry to intrude but I grew worried when Helena still hadn’t been picked up yet. I hope that all is well.’

Your eyes left her frame, seeing figures surrounding a table where there seemed to be a man laying down upon, quick huffs and puffs echoing from behind.

‘Arthur, shut up and just get this out of me.’

‘Drink this, Tommy. It’ll help with the pain.’

The unravelling scene before you had your full attention, completely forgetting the woman at the door.

‘I—oh no don’t do that!’ You raised your voice, pushing past her, now standing in the living room with three men staring at you. ‘I’m sorry to intrude but I was a nurse at the front and seeing you just stick your fingers inside his wound just rang my bells.’

The man on the table had blue eyes that protruded from the dim light within the room, his chest covered in dry and fresh blood, sweat dampening his skin and clothes. You overheard that his name was Thomas Shelby, Helena’s father.

You stepped closer and examined his wound. A bullet wound. Minimal surface damage and easily removed.

‘If someone could get me some bandages, an unopened bottle of alcohol and some tweezers with a bowl of warm water.’

‘I’ll get it.’ Helena walked past you to what seemed to be the kitchen.

‘The cheap one, Hallie,’ the light haired one yelled after her, his toothpick sitting between his lips. ‘If you open that rum from the Caribbean, I swear to you that I won’t give you any more sweets.’

‘You give her sweets?’ Thomas lifted his head.

‘Sometimes.’

‘Mr. Shelby if you could just relax for a short time longer. I will get that bullet out of you as swiftly as possible.’

Further taking in his naked chest you noticed his tattoo. Similar to sun rays just above his right chest. You had seen this tattoo before…

‘Mr. Shelby, can I ask you something?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you perhaps have a scar on your lower back? On your right just above your glutes?’

‘How do you know that?’ He stared up at you, holding your gaze as Helena came back with the supplies you needed.

‘Given it was a back injury you were transported to the tent on your stomach,’ you grabbed the alcohol to clean the wound, a hiss escaping him as you grabbed the tweezers, ready to pull out the metal embedded in his flesh. ‘I was the nurse that treated you. I was covered in ugly drapes and bloods, can’t say you could recognise me,’

Thomas winced as the ends of the tweezers dug around to grab the piece of metal, a small smirk on his lips. ‘You don’t say eh?’

‘I’m sure you’ll be having a déjà vu when I pull it out,’ you grabbed it and pulled it out, a loud growl escaping his lips as air pushed past his lips.

‘Thank you again.’

‘No problem, Mr. Shelby.’ You disposed of the bullet in a dish Arthur held out to you. ‘Next time Helena is not picked up I’ll bring her home and bring my first aid kit with me.’

‘That’s actually not a bad idea,’ he pulled himself up, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it. ‘Small Heath is starting you feel like a battlefield,’

‘Then I’ll be your nurse ready to care you to health.’

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brokehorrorfan · 20 days

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6 Things I Learned from the Lisa Frankenstein Commentary

We don’t get movies like Lisa Franeknstein often, which is a shame because it’s endlessly charming yet delightfully twisted. While it disappointed at the box office, it has "cult classic" written all over it.

The coming-of-age horror-comedy is out today on Blu-ray and DVD. Among the special features is an audio commentary by Zelda Williams. Here are 6 things I learned…

1. Catch Me If You Can inspired the opening credit sequence.

The opening credit sequence, which briefly depicts the Creature's love story from his previous life in the style of Victorian shadow box art, was inspired by Catch Me If You Can.

"We wanted to do something interesting with the credits in this bit. I was really inspired by Catch Me If You Can, which I thought the opening credits were particularly interesting and helped establish the story before we ever got to it. And because Creature doesn't speak this whole movie, I wanted an opportunity to show what his life would have been like."

2. The film was originally intended to be rated R.

Although Lisa Frankenstein pushes the PG-13 rating as far as it can go, it was originally intended to be a hard R. Williams cites the party scene, in which Lisa originally smoked a laced joint rather than drinking a PCP cocktail, as a difficult revision.

"This is where stuff got a little complicated when we were going from R-rated to PG-13. Originally there was a coated joint they were passing around. This is one of the only scenes that I'm not sure I'm as fond of in comparison to the joint stuff. Most of the rest of the changes were fine, but this one I find very strange. It's just a very different reaction and interaction than what used to be there. However, these are the things that happen when making a movie."

3. Creature is an homage to Day of the Dead's Bub.

Not only Lisa is seen watching George A. Romero's Day of the Dead in the film, but the Creature is an homage to its iconic zombie, Bub.

"Creature for me is definitely an homage to Buster Keaton, but he's also an homage to the zombie you just saw on screen, Bub, who was in Day of the Dead, a Romero movie that I'm very fond of. It was an incredibly emotive and a very intelligent zombie and ended up getting revenge against the asshole in the movie. It was one of my favorite monsters ever made, so when I could put that on screen during the movie, it made me very happy."

4. Zelda hid a tribute to her father, Robin Williams.

Williams is the daughter of Robin Williams, and she included his 1983 comedy album, Throbbing Python of Love, among the records scattered on the floor in Lisa's living room.

"Oh, there's Dad! We used one of Dad's vinyl albums because we had to scatter some across the floor." She refers to it as "a little, mini Easter Egg for me."

5. The police officers are named after John Waters.

The police officers in the film are Officer John (played by Walker Babington) and Officer Waters (Sylvia Grace Crim) — named on a whim in honor of cult filmmaker, John Waters.

"They asked me to name the cops, because obviously they needed to have name tags, so I named them Officer John and Officer Waters." She thought no one would notice since they're so small, but a viewer pointed it out at a test screening.

6. The film is sprinkled with movie references.

Williams wore her influences on her sleeve with her directorial debut, and she pointed out several references on the commentary:

A Trip to the Moon (clip featured in Lisa's surreal dream sequence)

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (stylistic inspiration on the dream sequence)

Weird Science (the party scene)

Suspiria (red lighting during drug sequence)

My Boyfriend's Back (camera shot from inside a grave looking up at characters)

Kill Bill (weapon point-of-view shot)

E.T. (a boy on a bike — played by Diablo Cody's son — at the end)

Notting Hill (reading together on a bench at the end)

Lisa Frankenstein is available now on Blu-ray, DVD, and Digital via Universal.

#lisa frankenstein #zelda williams #diablo cody #kathryn newton #cole sprouse #article #review #dvd #gift #liza soberano #henry eikenberry #joe chrest #carla gugino #horror #horror comedy

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notbecauseofvictories · 2 months

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So I watched Office Space (1999) tonight and honestly? Twenty-five years later, its take on what makes corporate drone life so horrible is sort of quaint. As though the height of corporate fuckery is uniforms, vacuous repetitive tasks, depriving you of a view, and subjecting you to the absurd, arbitrary whims of middle managers.

Quite frankly, that’s just a random Monday.

Comedy Central’s Corporate (2018-2020) is much more accurate---it taps into the sense that, in exchange for a steady paycheck, you buy into an enormous churning machine that grinds you down even as it takes huge bites out of the rest of the world. You can do nothing to stop this machine, just hope that you wring some sense of meaning from it before it swallows you whole. Or even Apple’s Severance---which is about what someone else, someone you don’t know and will never know, agreed to on your behalf. There is no escaping from it or winning at it, no matter how many squeeze-balls or cozies they offer you. (What would “winning” even look like? You can’t even formulate an answer to that question, when your whole life is labyrinthine corridors and inexplicable mythology about the company’s founder.)

But really, I think of Mark Fisher’s Capitalist Realism---the idea that what we want, desperately, is someone to step up and take responsibility. Someone we can point to, blame, and till under with the new corn, etc. etc. But the center cannot hold and there is no falconer, there is no one. We orbit a gaping maw and it just won’t shut its jaws, let us go, and even if we murder the people shoving us towards the teeth it won’t help.

It’s not about company-mandated “flare.” Jennifer Aniston can pick another restaurant with a less prickish boss, of course she can---but she won’t escape. Neither will her manager. Neither will her manager’s manager, or the cattlefarmer, or the workers slaving to pick tomatoes, the workers at the factory that manufactures the buns, or the copywriting intern who gets coffee for the asshole who writes a flimsy knockoff of WHERE’S THE BEEF. The maw is hungry forever, it will demand to be sated forever, it will never die. There is no escape.

#I probably should not have watched this on a monday while working on audit reports. hm.#anyway! I guess it's time to read ligotti again.#a proscenium for our dreams #occupational folklife

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 3 months

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01/18/2024 Crew Recap

TLDR; Summary: #HoistTheAds and Astroglide OFMD both happening tomorrow 1/19/24; UK Fans We Need Your Help!; New Hashtags/Petition Link; David Jenkins/RhysDarby/TaikaWaititi Troll us with Hidden Stuff; More Articles; Petition Status, News That Gives Us Hope for S3, and Rhys Darby in Shorts.

Note: Please feel free to let me know if I missed something important, if I'm incorrect, if the formatting pisses you off, or whatever, I take constructive feedback <3 thx lovelies.

Need to catch up on recaps? ofmd daily recaps

==Things You Don't Want To Miss Tomorrow 1/19/2024 and 1/20/2024==

EDIT: HOIST THE ADS: This might be starting at 12 EST - https://www.tumblr.com/renewasacrew/739916790295052288/join-us-in-just-over-10-minutes-at-midnight-est?source=share

#HoistTheAds is finally coming to NYC and LA tomorrow. There will be Flyovers, Billboards, etc. As of right now it looks like its just happening every few minutes on the billboard for the next day.

Tumblr Info

Twitter Info

==Astroglide Watch-A-Long at 1/19/2024 1 PM PST ==

To clarify exactly how it works, basically what they're doing is asking you to stream on the service of your choice starting at Season 1 Episode 1, and Astroglide (and Squishables might be joining) will be tweeting reactions as they go.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

=UK Fans! We need your help! @lamentus1 was kind enough to give us updates on the efforts going on over the UK!=

UK specific OFMD fans in groups on Tumblr, Twitter and Facebook are trying to come together to push for the BBC to air OFMD Season 2 in the UK since they haven’t done so yet!

So many UK fans can’t actually watch the second season *legally* based off a tumblr poll that @lamentus1 did recently, and a third of fans who voted can’t even watch OFMD because it’s not on in their country!

The current plans are:

Email two key people at the BBC:

Sue Deeks (Brought OFMD to the UK) --- [email protected] Charlotte Moore (Chief Content Officer ) --- [email protected] Email Prompt: if you need an example:

Send Tweets regarding wanting Season 2 to Air on BBC on twitter (same hashtags from @renewasacrew I believe but it that's incorrect please let me know!):

BBC2 IPlayer

The ongoing twitter thread for this is here

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

====New Articles ====

BBC fans fight to save cancelled show, with petition reaching 58,000 signatures

'Our Flag Means Death': Fans Rally to Save Cancelled Show'

Our Flag Means Death: Fans campaign to save queer pirate comedy

---Articles in Dutch---

Fans pikken cancellen van Our Flag Means Death niet en tekenen massaal petitie --------------------------------------------------------------------------

=Cast and Crew Seen in the Wild=

**START OF DISCLAIMER: This whole thread on Djenkins and Taika's mother in law is fan theory at this point, read into it as you will, but think of it like tabloid news**

The most exciting and I think ... brain candy worthy today was Rhys and David posting a BTS picture of Rhys in the colonial hat/outfit. It sparked some interesting ideas on the status of season 3.

I have to say, hats off to the folks over on twitter @fowlfiend for making this connection

Earlier today, Chaos Dad, David Jenkins posted the following picture of Rhys that Rhys shared on his Instagram with a song attached to it called "I'm a Man" by Jobriath.

Now, all well and good right? Rallying cry to all the crew! BUT Twitter folks think there's a deeper meaning and I'm inclined to agree.

How fucking cool is that? Thank you to @lamentus1 for pointing out also that Chaos Dad's post had the "three finger" I love you which is yet another 3 today.

Add to that, Taika's Instagram's been pretty quiet lately, and he happened to post a picture today of his mother-in-law @veraora on IG for her birthday, which just happens to have... 3 pigeons in it. Once again, thanks @lamentus1 for bringing this to our attention. ---also please wish VeraOra Happy birthday!

Now, could all of this be just coincidence? Sure, but where's the fun in that? Seems like we're going on a treasure hunt.

**END OF DISCLAIMER: This whole thread on Djenkins and Taika's mother in law is fan theory at this point, read into it as you will, but think of it like tabloid news**

===Other Chaos Dad Posts on Twitter===

=Hashtag Updates / How you can help=

@renewasacrew Has done some cool stuff and made saveofmd.com direct to the petition site. This should help with being able to share more easily. Full thread here on tumblr

Today's Goals and Hashtags Per @renewasacrew

#ArentYouGLAAD #SaveOFMD #TheNumbersWereThere

=Petition Status Updates=

Petition hit 60K all!!!! GREAT JOB! Just in time for Time Square tomorrow!!

I didn't see a drastic change on a lot of the fundraisers so I'm not adding those today--- I think we've had a big day as it was with the stuff around David posting without posting about season 3.

So I thought I'd end with some more info from our lovely @TheCozyPirate on twitter, the lovely person who exposed the information about how s3 was already in preproduction. They seem to have more insight in a lot of this.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

=So if your question is, is it making a difference? Why doesn't dad just come out and say it? Here's some insight:=

And this next one helps me to feel like we're still heading in the right direction. "If there were nothing viable, he would be able to say that. He would never, never let this go on if hopeless". I think is pretty uplifting.

Lastly, I think you all should be damn proud of yourselves with these calls, as a former Customer Support Person, I appreciate you all so damn much for keeping it kind and polite! Stede would be proud!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finally-- one last thing, since today's theme on tumblr is trolls getting all up in our faces, just remember you do not have to engage with them if you don't want to. If you want to have kind discussions, and you feel up for it, go for it, but don't feel obligated to defend the community.

We all know we care, we all know we're doing a great fucking job at taking care of each other, helping awesome causes, and still having fun while doing it. You don't have to prove to anyone that you are allowed to enjoy your pirate show that means something to you and spend a few bucks to support it.

Don't let people who are struggling with their own trouble take your light. Enjoy things, have fun. You deserve it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On a lighter note to end on: I have a serious question for all of you.

Who gave this man the right to wear these fucking shorts? Good god.

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thelargefrye · 10 months

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CAFÉ ETERNAL SUNSHINE ... bullet - point fic

pairing : poly!ateez x f!reader

genre : cafe au, fluff, established poly relationship

word count : 873

warnings : food, mentions of getting sick from overworking

special tag : @sanjoongie who allowed me to talk about this with her and is mainly inspired by this tiktok [ here ]

you and your eight boyfriends run a cafe together.

four sunshine boyfriends and four grumpy boyfriends with you somewhere in the middle

sunshine boyfriends : hongjoong, yeosang, san, and mingi

grumpy boyfriends : seonghwa, yunho, wooyoung, and jongho

you all run and own a cafe together

you and hongjoong originally started the cafe together before the others just slowly began working there with you both

the cafe as a comedy and tragedy type of aesthetic mixed with some artist vibes with painting down by hongjoong hanging on the walls

the food is very cute and bright and very comedy inspired

while the drinks are more darker and tragedy inspired

you even have a romeo and juliet inspired drink called "true loves poison"

the sunshine boys handle the drinks and the to-go orders

the grumpy boys handle the food and waiting tables

you and wooyoung are in the kitchen making the food and trying not to have a food fight every ten minutes

while all the boys are handsome, yeosang and seonghwa have become kind of like the faces of the cafe

you look on social media and its always you can always find either of the two in at least every single post

some people come to cafe just to see seonghwa and/or yeosang

yeosang is very welcoming and along with the other sunshine boys will have conversations with customers

while seonghwa is more of a "either buy something or get out" type of guy and usually gives off a cold aura to people that try to flirt with him or one of his partners

also– general manager!seonghwa who isn't afraid to kick people out of the cafe he sees them trying to cause a problem

seonghwa is very protective over you and the others

will also immediately rush to the back if he hears wooyoung giggling too loudly because he KNOWS that boy is up to something

eventually the cafe started hosting an open mic night once a month to allow people to come and perform

you and the boys will also perform once in a while

you'll mainly find hongjoong and jongho performing more than you or the others

you originally wanted to do a cat cafe but hongjoong turned it down

san was all for it but you guys got outvoted by the others

so to make up for that, you guys host an special animal adoption day at the cafe every once in a while

probably one of the few times you are seen out of the kitchen as you mostly help with the animals

during these days hongjoong or mingi are usually in the back with wooyoung to help him

the cafe also does special themed drinks and foods inspired by what broadway show is popular at the time

some examples have been six, beetlejuice, heathers, etc.

this are very rare though and very limited time, like maybe a week or two

also do special days that are either comedy discounted or tragedy discounted days

when these days happen you and the others either dress in brightly colored clothes or dark color clothes and the music in the cafe also matches the discount of the day

sometimes the cafe will also stay open into the very early hours of the morning (almost 24/7)

when this happens, you and yunho usually run the cafe by yourself since during this you only serve coffee and biscuits

usually during the late nights you'll get office workers, people who can't sleep, night shift people, or college students looking for a place to study

usually after these shifts, you and yunho crash in bed together for a few hours

hongjoong once tried running the night shift with yunho when you couldn't and hongjoong honestly can't figure out how you do it

"i don't know how you do it, y/n."

like hongjoong, yeosang has also covered yunho's late night shift, and every time he does he says he learns more and more about you each time

you two have been dating for years along with the others and so he thought he knew everything about you

"i think with each night shift, i fall more and more in love with you"

you have a tendency to overwork yourself which has lead to you getting sick a few times

the boys are all the time worried about you and try to get you to take the day off especially after some big event has happened at the cafe

one of the boys – usually san or jongho – also take off so that way you aren't by yourself

speaking of taking off

when either you and wooyoung take off or can't come or something, mingi is always the one to come help in the kitchen

mingi is really great help in the kitchen and usually left to decorate the cakes and such

HOWEVER–

one time both you and wooyoung were gone – you both had went out of town to get new ideas for food, so that left the others to run the kitchen

....

it was a disaster

you and wooyoung left mingi in the kitchen and so mingi brought san into the kitchen to help him

....

next time you both go out of town, you'll just close the cafe until you guys get back

tag list (bold means unable to tag ) : @invuwrld @frankenstein852 @watamotee33 @kawennote09 @mixling-blog @marahleiwhen @kpopnightingale @harry-the-pottypus @rdiamond2727 @sanniesbum @marvelahsobx @khjcoo @mysticfire0435 @exfolitae @kryybebe @dementedaly @simeonswhore @moonm1st @nvmbheart @spooo00oky @frogogh @marsanhwa @kryukyustar @sookacc @seongwin @melomatz @songmingisthighs

network : @cultofdionysusnet

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panic-at-your-hetalian · 8 months

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Listen, i love What we do in the Shadows and all, but as an scriptwriter sometimes it makes me so mad the lack of acknowledgement of situations in past seasons that the shows has, like yeah its a comedy i know, but in comedy shows like The office (which is a similar format) you can clearly see how actions from past seasons affect the characters in next ones, and idk i feel like that's a very lacking point in the show, just a few examples with the current season is the absolute absence of the djin(which even if it gets reintroduce in the last episode it wouldn't be an organic re-introduction from a writing point of view), and the absolute absence of a relationship between Colin and Lazlo, even tho he seemed obviously affected by the lost of baby colin at the end of last season. Also the relationship of Guillermo with the vampires sometimes seems to get closer and better, but then in some episodes they absolutely destroy any growth just for the sake of a joke, which at some point it gets kinda old.

But again, this is just my opinion, and im still going to keep watching.

(PD: sorry for any bad english, not my first language)

#what we do in the shadows #wwdits #nandermo #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless #jemaine clement #wwdits fx #lazlo cravensworth #colin robinson #nadja of antipaxos

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jacenotjason · 6 months

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ALL 'SECRET' VIDEOS IN THE OPPOSITE AU!

These aren't offical for anything! These are fake scripts for 'secret' videos found on the WH site, but for my AU!

FRANK AND EDDIE

[The scene is a mess of crafts paper, glitter glue, and stickers.]

[The audio opens with a loud, sudden ear-piercing scream from Frank.]

FRANK: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!EDDIE: [throws the door open, huffing as though he ran there. His voice is uncharacteristically worried.] Frank!? What’s going on!? Why.. [his voice relaxes as he sees Frank, returning to montone. He sighs.] ..why are you on your crafts table? FRANK: That!! THAT!!! [Frank seems to be pointing at something.] EDDIE: … That? FRANK: YES YES!! GET IT AWAY!! EDDIE: ..the tiny little beetle right there? FRANK: MHM!! It flew into the window and tried to KILL ME!! EDDIE: … Alright, whatever- FRANK: NONONONONO!! EDDIE: What!? You said get rid of it! FRANK: DONT STEP ON IT!!

EDDIE: Well, what do you want me to do!? FRANK: just- get it out!!! EDDIE: mmh.. Alright, give me that. The construction paper. FRANK: give you what- wha- [Frank lifts his shoe as Eddie takes some paper he was standing on.]

EDDIE: [Eddie grunts as he crouches down, pushing the beetle onto the paper] C’mon, on the paper bud.. [Frank whines] EDDIE: [Eddie takes the beetle outside, flapping the paper] Go on.. Go go go… C’mon get off- [The buzzing sound of a beetle flying away] There it’s gone- huff! FRANK: [Frank jumps off the table and hugs Eddie suddenly, his squeaker making a little squee] You’re my herooo!! EDDIE: yeah, I- okay- sure, [Eddie clears his throat and pats Frank’s back.] You’re welcome.

FRANK: You saved my life! EDDIE: I just put a bug outside! They ain’t even that scary! FRANK: but-but those pinchers!! EDDIE: Its for grabbing things its size! Like– food! EDDIE: Ugh.. you’re not scared of them, are you Wally?

FRANK AND JULIE

FRANK: Well I think I'm plenty funny, Julie! Barnaby thinks I'm a hoot and a half!

JULIE: Only a hoot and a half? What happened to the other half? [Mean laugh]

FRANK: [frustrated hmph!]

JULIE: That’s not even an accomplishment. Barnaby wouldn’t know a good joke if it walked up to him, introduced itself, and slapped him in the face.

FRANK: [Said with a pout in his tone] yes he would! You know, Julie, you’re not the only funny one in this neighborhood!

JULIE: Oh yeah? You might be right, cloud head! Eddie’s a pretty funny guy too-

FRANK: Not Eddie! Me! I have a joke that will knock your boots off! I’ve been working on it all week!

JULIE: [‘tch’s] Oh good.. all week? It took you that long? [her voice is a little louder as she turns to Wally] You hearing this, creeper?

FRANK: I’ll tell you, listen to this one! [Clears throat] What did the number three say to the number two after beating him in a game of checkers?

JULIE: Oh my lord..

FRANK: I One!

JULIE: [Pretend grunt of pain] Oh my god! That was worse than listening to Howdy explain economics!!

FRANK: Oh it was not, Julie! It was a good joke! Don’t you get it? One is a number but it also sounds like won! You know, when you won a game!

JULIE: [Another gasp of anguish] Now he’s explaining it! Oh- When will the agony stop?! [the sound of Julie falling to her knees, the grass squishing beneath her] Feed me to my venus flytraps, I’m going into the light! Augh! [dramatic gasp as she flops onto her back]

FRANK: Oh Julie, you just don’t understand comedy that isn’t hurting others! It was a funny joke! Wasn’t it, Wally?

HOWDY AND BARNABY

[The scene is what appears to be Barnaby’s desk. Theres two books, a gramophone, and a delightful faint sound of old music] HOWDY: so.. you don’t charge anythin’ for your products!?

BARNABY: well.. they’re not products, Pillar, they’re just books! People return them, anyhow, why would I charge for something I’m going to get back?

HOWDY: [talking incredibly fast, spouting off his business nonsense] A quick fee! People come by all the time and check out books, 50 cents for each checkout! 50 cents for each book, someone comes by and checks out 3 books, boom, a dollar and a half for you and thats just one person! You can start a library card business, too! More like a subscription, free books! But they have to pay 10 bucks a month to keep the card!-

BARNABY: Pillar! [Barnaby cuts him off, but he continues]

HOWDY: [interrupting, continuing to spout] Would if a book gets damaged?

BARNABY: [gasping, as if Howdy talking fast exhausted him] Well, I-I don’t mind at all! I replace it on my own, sure it takes a bit to find and purchase to replace but-

HOWDY: [astonished, interrupting] It comes out of ya own pocket!?

BARNABY: well- yes! Accidents happen, Pillar, I wouldn’t charge for a simple mistake.

HOWDY: How much does a book cost to replace?

BARNABY: Well I dunno… aah, 40 dollars on average-

HOWDY: 40 whole dollars!? You’re killin’ me, Barn!

BARNABY: I’m sorry my business model is hurting you, Pillar, but that’s how I run things.

HOWDY: If I was in your place I would not run it this way.

BARNABY: You are in my place! [He chuckles, amused. He straightens himself and talks sweetly again] You run that charming bodega.

HOWDY: Well, yes, yes I do!

BARNABY: Quite well, might I add.

HOWDY: [still speaking in his astonished tone] Thank you!

BARNABY: You are welcome!

HOWDY: Yeah- I- what were we fightin’ about?

BARNABY: I don’t reckon we we’re fighting, Pillar.

HOWDY: I was sure we was! I was angry.

BARNABY: I wasn’t! I thought we were having a creative discussion about my business.

HOWDY AND JULIE

[The scene is a close up of Howdy’s products.]

[The bell above the door rings, and the sound of Julie’s heels can be heard as she walks inside.]

HOWDY: Julie! How are ya?

JULIE: Same as always. [Her heels continue as she approaches Howdy’s counter] I’m looking for something to make for dinner for me and Sally.

HOWDY: I was unaware she ate.

JULIE: You’re not funny.

HOWDY: Gotta make sure whatever it is is small enough to fit up her nose.

JULIE: [The sound of her heels walking away as she leaves to explore the aisles]

HOWDY: Oh come back! I got one more!

JULIE: [At a distance] Die!

[Some beats pass, Howdy taps on the counter lazily]

HOWDY: Okay, what are you looking for?

JULIE: Just something that smells good. I don’t want to force Sally to eat, I’m thinking about cooking it while shes on her computer, so she smells the food and comes to eat on her own accord-

HOWDY: So-

JULIE: Make a joke about her snorting it and I’ll tear your antenna off.

HOWDY: Damn, jeez…

JULIE: Hm.. [Julie speaks to herself as she takes items off the shelf] Ah, sweet, here we are.. I can make some fried rice.. Oo, Mackerel.. [She speaks to Howdy] Do you have any jarred Romesco?

HOWDY: Probably.

JULIE: Whatever, I’ll make it myself. [She grabs more items, followed by the sound of her heels walking to the counter]

HOWDY: Right, [beeping sounds as he rings her up] Total comes out to 176 dollars and 32 cents.

JULIE: [Groan] Here.

HOWDY: Thaank you.. Have a nice day.

JULIE: Uh huh. [Julie grabs her bags and leaves the store]

HOWDY: [Howdy hums and taps the counter.] ..Oh! Hey, didn’t see ya there. What do you need, Wally?

POPPY AND BARNABY

[The scene is a close up on a bookshelf, Wally’s hand is visible resting on the edge. The usual sound of delightful old music can be heard faintly]

POPPY: [Distant] Barn? Ya home?

BARNABY: Over here, dear!

POPPY: Ah, whatcha doing?

BARNABY: Oh, I was just in the middle of finding a book for him.

POPPY: Oh- didn’t seeya there. Well, I just thought I’d check on ya. Haven’t spoken to you in a good minute. [Poppy takes a seat. Barnaby joins her.]

BARNABY: I’m doing just fine. How are you?

POPPY: I’m good. Julie’s birthday is in a few weeks, I’m planning for that!

BARNABY: ..it’s not for another two months?

POPPY: Yeah, and Julie likes expensive wine.

BARNABY: Ahah!

[There’s a few beats of comfortable silence.]

POPPY: …You sure you doin’ okay?

BARNABY: Hm? Yes? Why do you ask?

POPPY: I’m just worried about you, that’s all. Y’know me.

BARNABY: I do.

[The comfortable silence melts away, a bit of tension filling the air.]

POPPY: Let’s talk about something else.

BARNABY: Let’s!

POPPY: Whatcha readin’ lately?

BARNABY: Lots of historical fiction, mostly.

POPPY: Ooh!

BARNABY: Are you reading anything?

POPPY: Aah.. eeeh…

BARNABY: Haha.. It’s alright. I know it’s not for everyone.

POPPY: Haha. I’m glad to see you’re doin’ alright, Barn.

BARNABY: Thanks for being concerned about me, Partridge.

POPPY: Of course. [Poppy stands.] Never be afraid to call me, Barn.

BARNABY: See you..

[A few bits of silence. Eventually, Barnaby takes in a breath]

BARNABY: Always nice when she visits! How are you doing Darling?

POPPY AND JULIE

[The scene is a table with a cake. The cake has “HAPPY BIRTHDAY JULIE” in pink icing, as well as a glass of wine.]

JULIE: I’m so happy you’re letting me throw my birthday at your place again, Ma!

POPPY: Of course! Why wouldn’t I?

JULIE: Ahaha! Ma, you’re delightful. Seriously, what did we do to deserve such a delightful neighborhood mother?

POPPY: Ya don’t need to do anythin’! I’d do this for anyone. Anyway, let’s talk snacks!

JULIE: Let’s! [Julie is incredibly cheerfully and sing-songy]

POPPY: What ya thinkin?

JULIE: Ooh! [The sound of crumpling paper as she takes something out of her pocket] When I took that quick trip out to the cave, I managed to grab some of my moms old tapas recipes! [She hands the paper to Poppy] It would make me so happy if you could-

POPPY: recreate them?

JULIE: Yes!

POPPY: I’d be delighted! These sound delicious, too! Your mama made these?

JULIE: Mhm! My mom loved cooking, she cooked every chance she got! Any of our birthdays, the-day-after-your-birthday day, the-week-after-your-birthday day, its-a-celebrites-birthday day, fuck-it-I-just-wanna-cook-for-my-kids day.. Any reason!

POPPY: Sounds like she meant a lot to ya.

JULIE: Ah, she did.. She was so sweet. You would’ve loved her, Ma!

POPPY: If it ain’t a sore subject, can I ask how she passed?

JULIE: Natural causes.. She died peacefully in her sleep, and doing what she loved! She made us a delicious feast before she did.. My siblings and I have this joke.. We say she was supposed to die the night before, but asked the angels to give her just one more day to give her kids one last meal.

POPPY: That’s so sweet, Julie.

JULIE: [A small hum as she smiles]

POPPY: I’ll do my best to recreate your moms recpies.. And I’d be happy if you helped me!

JULIE: Oh- Ma! I’d love to!

POPPY: Sounds like a plan. Oh, hey, you wanna help too, Wally?

JULIE AND SALLY

[The scene the outside of Sally’s house. A close up on the chipped purple paint, and a window just barely in view at the top. All the voices are slightly distant]

JULIE: hup- hup!!

SALLY: Huh..?

JULIE: Hey! [Strained] Sorry! I wanted to surprise you, but it is hard to break into your house! Ugh! [A thump is heard as Julie falls inside]

SALLY: [Sally giggles] Are you okay?

JULIE: Perfect. [Julie stands up and poofs her skirt] Okay!

SALLY: What’s in the bag..?

JULIE: It’s a surprise! [She says sing-songy]

[There’s a few beats of tension, Sally’s breath tightening]

JULIE: [Julie rushes to speak again] ..It’s just some ingredients! I wanted to make you some dinner.

SALLY: Oh! …Can I see?

JULIE: Yeah! [Theres some heel clicks as she walks over to Sally, opening her bag and showing her the ingredients]

SALLY: What’s this..?

JULIE: Oh! That’s for me. It’s a Trinidad moruga pepper.

SALLY: What’s this…?

JULIE: Mackerel. You like fish, yeah?

SALLY: I.. think so.

JULIE: How about I cook up a quick sample right now and you can try it?

SALLY: Oh, okay.

JULIE: Mhm! I’m sure you’ll love it.

SALLY: Hehe..

JULIE: Alright, let me go see if you’re oven still works and- Hey!! [Julie’s heels are heard as she approaches the window and looks outside] Get out of here creeper!!

SALLY: wh-whose there!?

JULIE: Don’t worry! It’s just Wally!

BARNABY AND SALLY

[The scene is a wooden floor.]

[Barnaby can be heard singing.]

BARNABY: Heartaches.. ~ Heartaches..~

BARNABY: My loving you, they're only heartaches~

BARNABY: Your kiss was such a - oh! [He’s interrupted by the phone ringing. He answers.] Good evening. Barns books!

SALLY: ..Hello..?

BARNABY: Hello? [Barnaby is just as confused] Whose this?

SALLY: M..mm…my girlfriend gave me your number..

BARNBAY: [An sound of realization and relief] Hello. You must be Starlet.

SALLY: ..yes..

BARNABY: It’s nice to meet you. My name is Barnaby. Julie has told me a lot about you! What do you need?

SALLY: I just.. I was… I think I’m sick.

BARNABY: Oh! What are your symptoms? [Barnaby pushes some things around his desk, finding a notepad. He clicks a pen.]

SALLY: I just uhm.. M..my heart is beating really fast.

BARNABY: Mhm.. [Barnaby writes it down]

SALLY: and.. I feel really warm..

BARNABY: Mhm.. [He writes it down]

SALLY: and I.. I.. Don’t want to sleep.. Or eat.. Anything..

BARNABY: … [Barnaby stops writing] ..I apologize if this is invasive, but Julie informed me you are an addict.

SALLY: Oh..

BARNABY: Are you currently under the influence?

SALLY: ..why?

BARNABY: You just described very common symptoms of cocaine abuse.

SALLY: …

BARNABY: ..? Hello?

SALLY: Sorry.

BARNABY: No need to- oh. [Sally hangs up on him] Ah.. Well, she hung up.. I hope she calls back. [He hums in worry] Anywho.. Sorry for that.. Do you need anything, Darling?

EDDIE AND JULIE

[The scene almost looks like a spa. There is nail polish, makeup brushes, an ash tray, and bottle of wine.]

EDDIE: So, then he tells me that the money isn’t enough!

JULIE: [gasps in offense] It’s all you had!

EDDIE: It’s all I had, exactly!

JULIE: What did he want

EDDIE: You’re never gonna believe this.

JULIE: Mm?

EDDIE: He tells me.. He can sell my left arm.

JULIE: No!

EDDIE: Yes!!

JULIE: What the fuck!

EDDIE: Yeah!

JULIE: That’s when you jumped on him?

EDDIE: That’s when I jumped on him, yeah.

JULIE: Mm, absolutely deserved.

EDDIE: Mhhhm..

JULIE: Want more wine?

EDDIE: Yesss..

[The wine bottle is taken out of sight]

JULIE: Here you aree..

EDDIE: Mm.. Thanks for inviting me to your girls night.. Even though-

JULIE: Girls night is for anyone, babe. Besides, I wanted to hear the story of you making Howdy your bitch again.

EDDIE: [A shocked laugh, the sound of him playfully hitting Julie] Jules!

JULIE: Ah! Haha! You ass I almost spilt my wine!!

EDDIE: Hah! [Eddie snort-laughs]

[They laugh together for awhile, before calming down]

JULIE: so… Why’d you bring him with you?

EDDIE: Huh? Him? Oh.. Frank couldn’t make it and he seemed like a nice substitute.

JULIE: Awwh.. Why couldn’t Frank make it?

[A pink cigarette comes into view and is flicked into the ashtray]

EDDIE: Some sorta lesson with Barn.. I don’t know.. Can I get a cig?

JULIE: Hm? You smoke Rose Butts?

EDDIE: I know, I know, it’s a [Eddie puts on a mocking tone] “Girl Cigeratte”..

JULIE: No, no, you do you, but I’m more surprised you smoke. Here..

EDDIE: God, in this neighborhood? Who doesn’t?

JULIE: Frank.

EDDIE: I- well- that’s fair

JULIE: Wally.

EDDIE: Okay. So the two innocent guys don’t smoke.

JULIE: Barnaby doesn’t smoke.

EDDIE: Okay, shut up.

[Julie giggles, Eddie chuckles with him]

EDDIE: Mm.. Anyways, you wanna do his makeup or something?

JULIE: Ooh! Yeah! Wanna get your makeup done, Wally?

FRANK AND HOWDY

[The scene is Howdy’s store, once again. This time its a view of an apple display.]

[The sound of Frank humming the tune of ‘There Was An Old Woman Who Lived In A Shoe’]

FRANK: Howdy..

HOWDY: What is it, Nuvola?

FRANK: Do you think Eddie has feelings for mee..?

HOWDY: Hun, I don’t think Eddie has feelings.

FRANK: But- like- do you think he.. Like likes me?

HOWDY: He certainly cares about you more others. [Howdy walks away and begins shelving as he talks to Frank]

FRANK: I mean like.. Like.. if you think I asked him to hang out.. Like hang-out hang-out! He’d.. say yes?

HOWDY: Why are you asking me? Not only have I not been on a date in 12 years, [he sets something on the shelf] but Eddie also despises me, almost as much as I despise him.

FRANK: I know! But you know him super well and you spend a lot of time together! I figured he must’ve told you how he feels about me!

HOWDY: We spend a lot of time together, yeah, but we’re not being all buddy-buddy. He spends time in my store because he’s either blacked out drunk, or in the process of getting blacked out drunk. [He sets another item on the shelf] Or threatening me.

FRANK: Hmm.. [Frank pouts]

HOWDY: Eugh.. Listen, if you wanna know if Eddie likes you, why don’t you just march down to that Pot Office and ask!

FRANK: Because I’m nervousss!! [Frank whines]

HOWDY: You ain’t gonna know unless you ask! Just go down to that damn office, grab Eddie by his ugly face and say, ‘Hey! I like you! You wanna go on a date sometime?’ if he says no, move on! You probably doged a bullet! If he says yes, good for you!

FRANK: But I’m nervous!! [Frank reiterated, his voice cracking]

HOWDY: Then stay nervous! If you ask, you’ll know! If you don’t, you’ll be in a perpetual state of non-closure.

FRANK: [Frank whines again]

HOWDY: Just go! Go ask him!

FRANK: But would if- Hey!

HOWDY: [Howdy pushes him out] Go go! Just go ask him, stop bothering me!

FRANK: Okay okay! I’m going!

HOWDY: Good!

FRANK: Aah! [Frank runs out of the bodega and seemingly towards the Post Office]

HOWDY: Eugh.. Finally!! Damn cloud.. How do you deal with em, Wally?

EDDIE AND SALLY

[The scene is the gravel path, seemingly in front of Sally’s house]

[The sound of Eddie’s military-grade boots approaching]

EDDIE: Hm? Oh, hey bud.. ‘Scuse me..

[The sound of the mailslot opening]

EDDIE: Sally?

[Theres some shuffling inside of her house before Sally appears]

SALLY: hey.

EDDIE: There ya are.. Here, got this for you. Oh- [the sound of a paper bag being snatched]

SALLY: Thanks.

EDDIE: I uh.. I put a sandwich in there for ya.

SALLY: Oh-!

EDDIE: I know you like your noodles.. Thought it would be nice to have.. With the noodles, yknow?

SALLY: Thanks.

EDDIE: Course.. Uh.. Take of yourself, Sally..

SALLY: wait, wait,

EDDIE: hm?

SALLY: You.. Take care of yourself too!

EDDIE: Hah.. yeah, I will.

SALLY: I mean it! You always tell me to take care of yourself but I know you don’t.

EDDIE: …Yeah but I don’t care about me.

SALLY: I care about you.

EDDIE: ..yeah.

SALLY: Okay, you eat a sandwich today.

EDDIE: I will.

SALLY: and I’ll eat mine.

EDDIE: Okay.

SALLY: Okay.. Bye.

[The mailslot closes]

EDDIE: Seeya..

[Beats of silence, some sounds of Eddie kicking the dirt.]

EDDIE: Poor girl, right? [He says, speaking to someone else] ..Do you regularly sit outside her house, Wally?

POPPY AND SALLY

[The scene is some grass, Wally’s hand can be visible laying in it]

POPPY: Saallyy.. Sally? [Poppy’s voice approaches, a small squawk as she almost steps on Wally] Sorry, dear, didn’t see ya. Sally! Ya home?

SALLY: Hello..? [Sallys voice is distant and muffled]

POPPY: Hello!

SALLY: ..[Her voice is closer as she approaches the window. It’s still slightly muffled, as though shes behind a curtain] Whose that?

POPPY: I’m Poppy! You can call me Ma, sweetie. Julie tell ya about me?

SALLY: ..yeah, she has.. What do you want?

POPPY: I was comin’ to invite you to a party-

SALLY: No.

POPPY: Wha? I just figured it’d be nice! Get ya out of the house, meet new people-

SALLY: No thanks.

POPPY: You sure? You just wanna stay inside all day?

SALLY: All my life, actually.

POPPY: Ah.. I.. uhm.. Well. We’re gonna have snacks!

SALLY: Cool..

POPPY: Nachos and chips, and I’m gonna cook dinner for everyone and.. Eh..

SALLY: …Can you bring me some?

POPPY: Wha?

SALLY: I have.. A window in the back, that doesn’t have any glass or a screen or anything.. Can you bring me some food to that?

POPPY: Sure! I’d be down!

SALLY: Thanks… Ma..?

POPPY: Thas the spirit! Sorry I tried to make ya come outside.

SALLY: It’s okay.

POPPY: Well, I’ll see- eh.. Well.. I’ll talk to ya later!

SALLY: Bye. [There’s shuffling inside as Sally leaves]

POPPY: What a sweet girl. You know her, Walls?

POPPY AND EDDIE

[The scene is the floor of the post office. Letters are scattered about, along with pens, pencils, highlighters, and two vodka bottles]

POPPY: Eddie? [Poppy’s voice is overlaid with her claws against the floor] You here?

EDDIE: mmgnnm…

POPPY: Ah, there you are.. What ya doin’ under the table..?

EDDIE: Headache.. [he hiccups]

POPPY: ..so you got under the table

EDDIE: Yup..

POPPY: C’mere dear..

EDDIE: Nooo…

[Some struggle as Poppy attempts to help Eddie to his feet. Eddie sits on the table he was sitting under]

POPPY: You alright?

EDDIE: I’m.. peachy…

POPPY: You need’a throw up?

EDDIE: …no…

POPPY: Alright.. Well.. [Poppy sighs] Let’s see if I can get ya to bed. C’mere..

EDDIE: Nooo..

[Poppy helps Eddie away, theres some struggle and shuffling and Eddie complaining, but they make it eventually. There’s a small ‘pomf’ as Eddie lands on his couch]

POPPY: [her voice distant] There you are hun.. [her voice returns with her claws hitting the floor] Well.. I got em to bed.. Let’s just hope he stays there.. Let’s see if I can get this place cleaned up. Ya mind helpin, Wally?

BARNABY

BARNABY: Ah, then I told Pillar he needed to apologize to poor Dear! But he just went on and on about how he was the one that deserved an apology!

HOME: [Sounds of banging can be heard, sort of like agreeing]

BARNABY: I know! I told him that I couldn’t stay with him- i-in the room, I mean, unless he went and said he was sorry!

HOME: [Shutters creak]

BARNABY: Augh, I know, it’s such a heavy ask.. With how much they’re at each others throats! I don’t even understand what could’ve possibly caused such hatred!

HOME: [Lets out an inquisitive door squeak]

BARNABY: I agree. I think I need to sit down with them both and see what on Earth happened- eh

HOME: [Opens and closes its door judgmentally, cutting Barnaby off]

BARNABY: Wha- What do you mean it’s a bad idea?! I’ll keep them off each other, and-and I’ll make sure Dear leaves his pocket blade outside the library. And-

HOME: [Windows open and shut, a bit like laughter]

BARNABY: Wha!? Oh c’mon! Eddie can survive without his knife for one day! And PIllar won’t be allowed to bring that darned shotgun into the library either! He never has been! I’ve never allowed weapons or-or anything of the sort into the library! In fact, he knows all about it! Don’t you?

…Hello? Little one? Pal?

…Hey, y-you stopped painting..

…Everything alright, Darling?

#welcome home #welcome home au #welcome home opposite au #howdy pillar #eddie dear #frank frankly #julie joyful #sally starlet #barnaby b beagle #poppy partridge #wally darling #script #scripts #welcome home puppet show #welcome home arg

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chireikiden · 5 months

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Before there was Gensokyo of Humans or Magician Who Loved a Fake, there was Wholly Red, Ashiyama's self-published doujin series. Originally started in 2015 and still ongoing, with 28 chapters at the moment. A running storyline about tengu society, politics, journalism, office drama & comedy, and what it is to be a youkai. Focused near exclusively on the tengu and their own bubble within Gensokyo, with supporting roles for some of their neighbors.

Excited to finally get around to this. The translation's already done, actually, and the plan is to release a chapter twice per month until we catch up, after which point it'll just be "whenever there's an update".

As most of the series was published in book form first and then split into chapters for the Pixiv release used here, chapters vary a lot in length and each book also has its own story arc to an extent.

Also on MangaDex!

#touhou #shameimaru aya #himekaidou hatate #ikemizu kotogotoku aka #ashiyama #unofficial #manga

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animefeminist · 6 months

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Genre conventions and a gentle story of recovery in My New Boss is Goofy

Content warning: discussion of abusive relationships and workplace trauma

Minor spoilers for My New Boss is Goofy Episode 1 – 6

When you think of “mental health representation” a light-hearted slice-of-life series probably isn’t the first thing that comes to mind. It’s certainly not what I expected when I pressed play on a series called My New Boss is Goofy. Yet underpinning this fluffy office comedy is an earnest story of trauma and recovery. This being a fluffy comedy, there was a real risk that the protagonist’s trauma might be belittled by being filtered through the conventions of its genre—in other words, played off as a joke, treated as “no big deal,” or simply not addressed at all in favor of maintaining a comfy low-stakes vibe. Instead, the protagonist’s experience with an abusive workplace and the lingering physical and mental effects of this trauma are depicted with care and authenticity. As is the process by which the protagonist begins to heal now that he’s in a safe place—and now that he’s the main character in a sweet, low-stakes story where genre expectations basically guarantee he won’t get hurt again. Rather than ignoring or downplaying themes of trauma in favor of maintaining slice-of-life genre conventions, My New Boss is Goofy uses its positioning as a cozy slice-of-life story to tell a gentle, but still meaningful, story about mental health and healing.

The series follows 26-year-old Momose, who has just quit a horrible job with a boss that was verbally, physically, and emotionally abusive towards him. Anxiety racks Momose as he starts at a new workplace. Will his new manager beat him down in the same ways? The lingering stress of his past job and the fear that history will repeat itself is so bad it’s causing him stomach pains and he’s teetering on the knife-point of panic for most of the first episode. His new boss, however, is nothing like his old one: despite seeming very competent and serious, he’s an adorable airhead. This is the set-up for the comedy that is Momose’s new office life.

Read it at Anime Feminist!

#my new boss is goofy #shoujo #shoujo anime #dan ichikawa #atarashii joushi wa do tennen #articles

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steveyoungjokes · 2 years

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Discworld Pushed Me Left

by Steven Young

Thanks to the marvelous editor, Lyta Gold.

[Originally published in Current Affairs, (before the purge)]

It took Hannah Arendt two books and 800 or so pages to describe the origins of totalitarianism and the banality of evil. Terry Pratchett did it in 326 words when describing the workplace culture of the religious torture chambers in his book Small Gods. Karl Marx spent many chapters in Capital describing how the rich fleece the poor; Pratchett boiled much of that down into the 169-word “‘Boots’ Theory of Socioeconomic Unfairness” in Men At Arms. By using humor to poke fun at the world that he created, Terry Pratchett made many progressive and leftist ideas accessible, explainable, and shareable. And his Discworld series helped move my political outlook leftward in a way that not many other things could.

I grew up conservative in the way that many middle-class suburban religious white kids are conservative. (“We’re fine, right? Everyone else must be fine, then. If not, it’s their fault.”) My father was a career Army officer and my mother had been in the Army during Vietnam. As adults, they both joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormons). That’s why I served a mission for two years in Brazil (for my Church), and why I joined the Marine Corps, serving my country (I thought, lol) for 12 years. You would think that being a religious colonizer, and a veteran in the “War on Terror” would have cemented my conservativeness, but the most important thing I inherited from my parents is silliness. I am a very silly person, and am more strongly influenced by funny things (comedy, light-hearted fiction) than serious things (pundits, war). Conservative comedy, I realized as I matured, wasn’t particularly funny or clever, since it consisted mostly of racism and bullying. In watching, listening to, and reading comedians who critiqued society and its institutions, rather than just mocking people, I began to see the weak points in my inherited conservative views. Then I found the Discworld, and was changed forever.

Terry Pratchett’s 41-novel Discworld series describes a place of barbarian heroes and hapless academics, brave witches and cowardly Wizards, silly kings and evil fairy godmothers. There are magical flying dragons, and domesticated swamp dragons with a propensity for inadvertent self-immolation. You’ll also find plenty of politics, as well as war, inventions, grifting, intrigue, love, danger, and DEATH. (On the Disc, Death is no mere abstraction, but an anthropomorphic personification with a voice like “the lid of a sarcophagus slamming,” who is really quite likeable.) Perhaps more than anything else, the Discworld has humor. Every page is full of puns and other wordplay, clever rejoinders, and silly situations. Pratchett’s stories are often laugh-out-loud funny and at the same time incredibly insightful, often by using a silly situation to show the inherent silliness of many things in our world.

In his book The Truth, about the invention of the newspaper, Pratchett writes that “People like to be told what they already know… They get uncomfortable when you tell them new things… They like to know that, say, a dog will bite a man. That is what dogs do. They don’t want to know that a man bites a dog, because the world is not supposed to happen like that. In short, what people think they want is news, but what they really crave is olds.” Pratchett often gets the reader to think about “the news” by referencing “the olds,” re-telling classic stories from a different perspective to challenge their established values. For example, in Witches Abroad (Discworld #12, Witches #3), the young witch Magrat Garlick is given a magic wand, and told that she is to act as fairy godmother for a young woman named Emberella, an obvious play on Cinderella (both in name and, as we find out, in the story). After many adventures on the way to find Emberella, Magrat discovers that there is another fairy godmother who is “helping” Emberella by trying to force her into marrying a handsome “Prince” (who had until very recently been a frog, and still thinks he is one). The book hinges on Magrat and her fellow witches competing with this other fairy godmother by trying to help Emberella figure out if marrying the handsome prince is what she really wants. The entire story, in fact, is premised on what happens when powerful people (in this case, powerful magic users) try to impose their idealistic stories onto the lives of others.

Pratchett’s 41 novels are dense with literary references, and are hilariously critical of just about anything one could be critical of. I do not have enough space to give the incredibly broad scope of the characters and places of the Discworld the discussion they deserve, so I will focus for now on the biggest city on the Disc: Ankh-Morpork. That’s right, “Ankh-Morpork! Pearl of cities! This is not a completely accurate description, of course—it was not round and shiny—but even its worst enemies would agree that if you had to liken Ankh-Morpork to anything, then it might as well be a piece of rubbish covered with the diseased secretions of a dying mollusc.” Ankh-Morpork can be likened to immediately-pre-industrialization New York City and London, and many of the problems in the stories arise from the growing industrialization of the Discworld—such as urban blight, policing, corruption, organized crime, innovation, monopolies, and lack of funding for public services.

The government of Ankh-Morpork can be described as libertarian, more or less. The city of millions is ruled over by the Patrician, whose role is, as he understands it, to ensure that everything works. “Ankh-Morpork had dallied with many forms of government and had ended up with that form of democracy known as One Man, One Vote,” Pratchett writes in Mort. “The Patrician was the Man; he had the Vote.” The Patrician, Havelock Vetinari, doesn’t rule Ankh-Morpork with an iron fist: he just lets everyone go about their business, and then rigidly holds them accountable. That said, his real power comes from his ability to influence people by sheer foresight and incredibly detailed planning. In fact it was Vetinari himself who instituted a new type of “justice” system. He legalized the Guild of Thieves:

“Crime was always with us, he reasoned, and therefore, if you were going to have crime, it at least should be organized crime...[I]n exchange for the winding down of the Watch, the [Thieves Guild] agreed, while trying to keep their faces straight, to keep crime levels to a level to be determined annually. That way, everyone could plan ahead… and part of the uncertainty had been removed from the chaos that is life.”

I can imagine certain libertarians trying to explain how paying a predetermined amount to the Thieves Guild in exchange for a receipt and future protection is different from paying taxes, but you and I both recognize that that argument would be nonsense. By taking the concept of “organized crime” literally, Pratchett exposes the baselessness of the libertarian idea that freedom can be found through just legalizing everything and resolving all conflicts through contracts. Arrangements like these don’t make people any safer, and no matter what, they still result in powerful entities charging citizens money for protection.

The societies in Discworld are pre-industrial, as I said, with some later going through industrialization, and for that reason there is little governmental regulation of housing, industry, commerce, and the environment. The water in Ankh-Morpork is described as having a “thick texture,” “too stiff to drink, too runny to plough” and smelling like “several armies had used it first as a urinal and then as a sepulcher.” Any urban planner will tell you that environmental degradation, among other things, leads to urban blight: Ankh-Morpork is squalid and dangerous. As Pratchett writes in Pyramids, there “was not a lot that could be done to make Morpork a worse place. A direct hit by a meteorite would count as gentrification.” For all the danger and organized crime, “murder was in fact a fairly uncommon event in Ankh-Morpork, but there were a lot of suicides. Walking in the night-time alleyways of The Shades was suicide. Asking for a short in a dwarf bar was suicide. Saying 'Got rocks in your head?' to a troll was suicide. You could commit suicide very easily, if you weren't careful.” There’s a sly joke in here about crime statistics, and how technical terminology can be used and misused to tell a certain story. Relatedly, the Assassins Guild in Ankh-Morpork doesn’t commit “murder”; instead they merely “inhume” their victims, but they keep detailed records of their work and come down very hard on unlicensed inhumations. The state of policing in the United States is so horrible that perhaps, if we had a strong Assassins Guild, it would be an improvement; sure, murder would be officially legal, but in the guild system it’s costly to hire an assassin and costly to be an unlicensed assassin, whereas in the United States the police often do the assassinating themselves. At least in Ankh-Morpork the Assassins Guild school provides one of the best and well-rounded educations on the Disc, with scholarships for need-based students. This is partly out of noblesse oblige, but mostly because the experienced assassins know how important it is to keep an eye on youngsters with an aptitude for the profession. (Yes, to some degree this sounds like the current school bully-to-cop pipeline, but at least Pratchett’s assassins are held accountable.)

Criminals in Ankh-Morpork are often just referred to as ‘entrepreneurs,’ and at the start of the Discworld series, the city doesn’t have much in the way of a law enforcement system. Due to Vetinari’s re-organization of the Guilds into self-enforcing crime causing and prevention, an official law enforcement body was seen as superfluous. For that reason, early in the Discworld series the Night Watch has only three very ineffective police officers. To leftists like me this may sound great, but as discussed above, Ankh-Morpork’s methods of criminal self-enforcement coupled with unregulated markets makes for a pretty terrible place to live. The three officers of the Night Watch—Captain Sam Vimes, Sergeant Fred Colon, and Corporal Nobby Nobbs—have three different takes on policing (all of which might be called a sort of “anti-policing.”) In Making Money, Pratchett writes that “Colon and Nobby had lived a long time in a dangerous occupation and they knew how not to be dead. To wit, by arriving when the bad guys had got away.” Sergeant Colon was the type of policeman who would say that “trying to keep down crime in Ankh-Morpork was like trying to keep down salt in the sea…” and would avoid having to interact with criminals by proactively guarding very notable city locations because “[o]ne day someone was bound to try to steal the Brass Bridge, and then they’d find Sergeant Colon right there waiting for them. In the meantime, it offered a quiet place out of the wind where he could have a relaxing smoke and probably not see anything that would upset him.” Corporal Nobbs, however, is the kind of person who joins armies to loot corpses. He’s often the main suspect in any unlicensed minor theft around town, stemming from his preferred method of police work (testing doorknobs to see if houses are locked, and going into the unlocked homes to make sure no thieves are there.) Slightly less risk-averse than Sergeant Colon, Corporal Nobbs would never fight fair:

“Corporal Nobbs,” [Vimes] rasped, “why are you kicking people when they’re down?”

“Safest way, sir,” said Nobby.

When we meet Captain Vimes in Guards! Guards! (Discworld #8, City Watch #1), he’s a somewhat functional alcoholic who stumbles through the city avoiding crime as much as possible, and trying to keep Colon and Nobbs from getting into dangerous situations. Over the course of his arc, we learn that Vimes is driven to drink because of past trauma, plus the ongoing and somewhat banal trauma caused by the internal tension that he experiences as an ersatz peace officer who is constantly confronted with the fact that he is mostly powerless to protect those who need protecting and that most of the harm caused to the city and its inhabitants is technically “legal.” In short, to the extent that Vimes can be considered a “good cop,” it’s because he comes to the realization that the status quo of organized and legalized criminal syndicates fueled by unregulated libertarian capitalism doesn’t help people, and he pushes back somewhat significantly against that status quo.

That being said, in later books the Night Watch is expanded (as one of the more prominent efforts in Ankh-Morpork to officially reflect the diverse social makeup of the city). It becomes the City Watch, and Vimes is promoted, becoming a part of the aristocracy. This is all a bit neat—it just so happens that Ankh-Morpork’s libertarian problems can be solved by more policing, and Vimes is rewarded for his efforts. However, despite Vimes’ increased station, and the increased power of the City Watch he commands, he remains mostly grounded and functions as a traitor to his new class. This is likely because of the lessons he learned during his years of living on the lower rungs of society, probably the most famous of which is:

Captain Samuel Vimes’ “Boots” theory of socioeconomic unfairness.

“The reason that the rich were so rich, Vimes reasoned, was because they managed to spend less money.

Take boots, for example. He earned thirty-eight dollars a month plus allowances. A really good pair of leather boots cost fifty dollars. But an affordable pair of boots, which were sort of OK for a season or two and then leaked like hell when the cardboard gave out, cost about ten dollars. Those were the kind of boots Vimes always bought, and wore until the soles were so thin that he could tell where he was in Ankh-Morpork on a foggy night by the feel of the cobbles.

But the thing was that good boots lasted for years and years. A man who could afford fifty dollars had a pair of boots that'd still be keeping his feet dry in ten years' time, while the poor man who could only afford cheap boots would have spent a hundred dollars on boots in the same time and would still have wet feet.”

Though there are flaws to Vimes’ theory (mostly because there are many additional reasons why the rich are so much richer than the poor), his theory is very understandable, and can lead readers to ask deeper economic questions about labor, value, and planned obsolescence. It doesn’t seem like many leftist academics have incorporated Vimes’ Boots theory into their writings, but the internet is full of people who read the Boots theory and immediately find that it describes their lived experience. As many of us have seen, the internecine online leftist debate over “reading theory” vs. “not being a fucking nerd” often does not lead to much progress when it comes to spreading awareness of left ideas. It is my opinion that a very readable, understandable, and funny version of “theory,” like the one Pratchett wrote, allows for more people to understand—or become interested in or familiar with—leftist theories than would otherwise be the case. I know that during my post-Marine Corps life, Pratchett’s humor was integral for my discovery of progressive ideals.

There are subtler left touches in Pratchett’s work as well: while many stories do focus on high-level political actors or those on the front lines of conflict, his writing also considers the lives of ordinary working people. The personification of Death, rarely dealing with kings and potentates, spends time working as a farm hand, interacting with children (who, like magic users, can see him because they “can see what’s really there”), playing rock and roll, and trying to discover the meaning of life… and death. The witches, as powerful magic users, do interact with various political leaders, but it’s very clear that they gain their power and experience from helping farmers and shepherds deal with the everyday, practical issues that are part of life in a pre-industrial society. Another subseries focuses on the senior faculty of Unseen University—a bunch of old wizards with tenure—but every story illustrates the blinkered stupidity of these senior faculty members, and how useless they are without the help of their support staff.

Though Pratchett often writes stories about the inherent goodness of most people, he is also interested in the ways in which anybody can become a collaborator with evil. Perhaps the best example of this comes in Small Gods, in which the country of Omnia launches a “Quisition” [inquisition] complete with torture pits. The cellar of the Quisition is not, at first glance, a wildly evil workplace: “There were no jolly little signs saying: You Don’t Have To Be Pitilessly Sadistic To Work Here But It Helps!!!” But take a look at their coffee breaks: “The inquisitors stopped work twice a day for coffee. Their mugs, which each man had brought from home, were grouped around the kettle on the hearth of the central furnace which incidentally heated the irons and knives.” This is such a small, perfect image of evil: the inquisitors heating their coffee and their torture tools on the same hearth. Pratchett further describes their environment:

“...there were the postcards on the wall. It was traditional that, when an inquisitor went on holiday, he'd send back a crudely coloured woodcut of the local view with some suitably jolly and risque message on the back. And there was the pinned-up tearful letter from Inquisitor First Class Ishmale "Pop" Quoom, thanking all the lads for collecting no fewer than seventy-eight obols for his retirement present and the lovely bunch of flowers for Mrs. Quoom, indicating that he'd always remember his days in No. 3 pit, and was looking forward to coming in and helping out any time they were short-handed.”

Pratchett could, of course, be describing any office break room. The casual and friendly quality stands in horrid contrast to the actual work of the inquisitors. On this point, Pratchett is unsparing: “...there are hardly any excesses of the most crazed psychopath that cannot easily be duplicated by a normal, kindly family man who just comes in to work every day and has a job to do.”

Reading this, as a former soldier in the U.S.’s imperial military, and as a member of a generally conservative religion with a strict hierarchy, this passage (and Small Gods in total) helped me recognize the part I had played in evil. I am still a member of my church, but do my best to push back against the banal and even friendly aspects that push people to accept evil results without question. Recently, I led the teenage boys in our local congregation in reading Small Gods together, with profound results: these fellows understood the underlying themes perfectly. It was very heartening to witness young people realize how humor can be a part of discussing serious topics, and how easily one can be co-opted to do harm by a seemingly inevitable and even friendly-seeming organization. It should be noted, that this experience did not (from what I could tell) cause these young men to question their faith, or to immediately start sinning (hormones will likely do most of that work), but it allowed them the space to question the parts of our organized religion that merit questioning.

Teasing out all the thematic complexity of Pratchett would take an entire magazine by itself, but it’s worth looking at his approach to gender. There’s Monstrous Regiment, in which (spoiler) nearly every seemingly-male soldier in the army turns out to be a woman in disguise, and a very competent woman at that. (Incidentally, Pratchett does a surprisingly good job of describing the nitty-gritty specifics faced by a frontline soldier that are otherwise almost never mentioned in literature.) Other novels revolve around the experiences of Tiffany Aching, a young witch who must navigate adolescence, gender roles, feminism, rural life, and incursions by very nasty creatures; and she does it all while subverting traditional fantasy stories’ treatment of women and sexuality.

Tiffany’s stories—and that of the other witches— are presented in sharp contrast to those of the wizards. These tenured academics live in a gender-segregated university that admits only men (with one eventual exception); they are celibate, and show no interest in the women who clean up after them. For example, in Unseen Academicals, the Archchancellor Ridcully realizes he “had never thought of the maids in the singular. They were all…servants. He was polite to them, and smiled when appropriate. He assumed they sometimes did other things than fetch and carry, and sometimes went off to get married and sometimes just...went off. Up until now though, he’d never really thought that they might think, let alone what they thought about.” Women’s labor may go unseen in the Unseen University, but the narrative ensures that you see it. Additionally, the absurdity of the university and the relative impotence of the wizards’ magic is constantly contrasted against the witch-style of magic that is largely about creating life and being useful. For example, while the witch Nanny Ogg is the matriarch of a large family, has had a host of husbands (which is not seen as particularly scandalous), loves singing dirty songs, and has published an adult-themed cookbook, the wizards of Unseen University have to keep the magical tome Ge Fordge’s Compenydym of Sex Majick “in a vat of ice in a room all by itself and there’s a strict rule that it can only be read by wizards who are over eighty and, if possible, dead.” There are multiple interactions between the wizards with their supposedly-high minded form of academic magic and the witches with their supposedly-homespun form of rural magic, which end up as pointed critiques both of gender and the hierarchical forms of educational systems. In most of the Discworld books, both wizards and witches believe that magic should be gendered; in Equal Rites (Discworld #3, Witches #1), the wizard Treatle states that “Witchcraft is Nature’s way of allowing women access to the magical fluxes, but you must remember that it is not high magic...High magic requires clarity of thought, you see, and women’s talents do not lie in that direction.” At the same time, Granny Weatherwax agrees, saying “if women were meant to be wizards, they’d be able to grow long white beards...wizardry is not the way to use magic, do you hear, it’s nothing but lights and fire and meddling with power.”

That said, the witches do a much better job of questioning the existing hierarchy and challenging their social status than the wizards. In A Hat Full of Sky (Discworld #32, Tiffany Aching #2), Pratchett describes the nature of the witches’ non-hierarchy (while also illustrating the power of a determined individual) when he writes that “witches are equal. [They] don’t have things like head witches. That’s quite against the spirit of witchcraft...Besides, Mistress Weatherwax would never allow that sort of thing.” Though Granny Weatherwax is likely powerful enough to run roughshod over the Disc, she seems to be of the same mind as Tiffany Aching’s grandmother, who said “Them as can do has to do for them as can’t. And someone has to speak up for them as has no voices,” a rather different ethic than that exhibited by the wizards, who gain rank by killing older wizards. In “‘Change the Story, Change the World’: Gendered Magic and Educational Ideology in Terry Pratchett’s Discworld” L. Kaitlin Williams points out that “the witches’ subversive educational ideology not only undermines the wizard’ repressive educational ideology, but also...takes on a threateningly rebellious quality capable of toppling the hegemonic and hierarchical structures of Discworld.”

This is well-illustrated in The Wee Free Men (Discworld #30, Tiffany Aching #1), where Tiffany Aching seeks out more formal witch training and is told to “go to a high place near here, climb to the top, open your eyes...and then open your eyes again,” the lesson being that witches learn from experiencing the world as it really is, rather than taking tests and attending lectures. This self-education, based in lived experience and self-knowledge, helps her defeat her enemy, the more logic and reason-based Queen of Fairyland who tries to tempt and trick her with realistic dreams. Tiffany’s less-than-formal education also makes her a natural ally of the mysterious and magical Nac Mac Feegle “pictsies” with their anti-authoritarian rallying cry (in a Scottish-ish accent) of “Nae king! Nae quin! Nae laird! Nae Master! We willna be fooled again!”

But the most subversive part of Discworld—or possibly the least, depending on your perspective—may be the Industrial Revolution Series, featuring the novels Moving Pictures, The Truth, Monstrous Regiment, Going Postal, Making Money, and Raising Steam, which cover issues such as the free press, minority rights, support groups, industrialization, mechanization, government services, trains, recycling, and telecommunication. Three of the books center around Moist von Lipwig, a former conman who changes his stars (somewhat reluctantly) and helps found or resurrect some of Ankh-Morpork’s public institutions. In Going Postal, Lipwig is tasked with saving the city post office when Reacher Gilt (a brutal steampunk pirate who clearly inspired Jeffrey Bezos) tries to drive it into ruins (via murder and monopoly) in order to force everyone to use his new visual telegraph system. Moist manages to save the post office while working through civil rights issues and confronting the complexities of incorporating new technology and automation into a changing world. He also gives us a glimpse as to why he’s an ideal person to usher in a new style of banking when he stops to think about the concept of money:

“Money is not even a thing, it is not even a process. It is a kind of a shared dream. We dream that a small disc of common metal is worth the price of a substantial meal. Once you wake up from that dream, you can swim in a sea of money.”

If this sounds a bit like the principles underlying Modern Monetary Theory, you’ll love the sequel Making Money, in which Moist is tasked with saving the city bank. Specifically, he is tasked with taking the bank over from the people who had previously been running it, and who, among other class warfare tactics, wouldn’t let poor people bank because they felt that “a brigand for a father was something to keep quiet about, but a slave-taking pirate for a great-great-great-grandfather was something to boast of.” In addition, they had come to understand that “the best way to make money out of poor people is by keeping them poor.” Moist saves the bank, and likely the city, when he comes to two important realizations. First, that many people of Ankh-Morpork do not trust the banks (likely because of the dismissive attitude bankers held [hold?] toward the poor), but they do believe in the overall progress of their city. Second, he notices that many people of Ankh-Morpork have begun using postage stamps (which Moist invented in Going Postal) as currency. Combining these two insights, he realizes that the city’s money does not need to be backed by gold, and begins making new money that is backed by the city itself (and further determined by the value of the bodies of the city’s inactive golem slaves/workers, which is just a whole other mess). If this doesn’t sound like an especially profound reform, you would be right. Ankh-Morpork remains a city with terrible living conditions, terrible water, and extreme inequality. Making Money is the only Discworld book with an economist in it, and it has predictable results.

The neoliberal blindness at the end of Making Money is not the only flaw in Pratchett’s Discworld. Despite its breadth of subjects, it is very much a product of a Briton (Pratchett’s full name is actually Sir Terence David John Pratchett OBE), a fact which is reflected in the way that he writes about Fourecks, the Discworld stand-in for Australia, not being a finished continent. Pratchett often uses physical caricature to make great plays on words, and for the most part he makes jokes about everyone, but sometimes it can dip into the realm of body-shaming; for example, there’s quite a lot in Making Money about the villainess being fat and ugly. Sometimes, Pratchett’s love stories can be a bit rote, as if it is the woman’s duty to let the man woo her, and although many of Pratchett’s women characters are quite empowered, this can sometimes take a form similar to the CIA’s new ad promoting case officers who refuse to “internalize misguided patriarchal ideas of what a woman can, or should, be” while shaking hands with Gina Haspel. And because Pratchett’s books are humorous, they are sometimes seen as low brow or “light reading” that justifies “robbing readers of the true delights of ambitious fiction.” That may be true, but it should be noted that light or humorous reading can often be used to tell stories that don’t otherwise get told. That said, the effectiveness of Pratchett’s prose may be limited by the fact that oftentimes the people least likely to want to read a silly story are the people who most likely need to experience something from a different perspective.

Reading Pratchett is a delight, and not just because he uses minute details of the lived experiences of working people and incredible humor to turn accepted stories on their heads. Fun is important for its own sake. I’ve read most of the Discworld books several times and am constantly astounded that nearly every single page has jokes and puns on it. You’ll laugh, but you may also shed tears of melancholic camaraderie, as I did when reading Night Watch which features much of Vimes’ heartbreaking backstory. But don’t take my word for it; as Terry Pratchett’s Moist von Lipwig would say “I wouldn’t trust me if I was you. But I would if I was me.”

#discworld #terry pratchett #comedy #silly

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archie-sunshine · 4 months

Text

Survey Says-!(Rodimus/EVERYONE)

Chapter 2: Feel The Beat(Rodimus/Blaster)

Rodimus is NOT bitter about the results of the crew satisfaction survey, in fact, he’s fully prepared to change! He’s determined to change his crew’s minds, and what better way to do so than to get to know them- in the carnal sense that is.

There are no problems with this plan in Rodimus’s mind. There are many in Ultra Magnus’s. Magnus engages in some unfortunate(for Rodimus) damage control as head of Cybertronian Resources. Rodimus is not easily deterred.

Chapter 1 Here! Read on AO3 here!

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FIC TAGS: Rodimus/Everyone(But y’know, not like. EVERYONE. Just a lot of various background characters and also more specifically with some others), Takes place post dark cybertron, but pre the whole ship disappearing thing and the mutiny, smut, Chastity, denial, Rodimus is a slut, Ongoing humiliation, HR Violations as comedy, Ultra Magnus is clueless, sticky sexual interfacing, comedy, sexual comedy, dubious consent (if you squint and tilt your head), contains illustrations

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Authors notes: I didnt know blaster very well before writing this, i watched some of the old g1 cartoon funnily enough, and it turns out blaster is a cutie pie and i love him actually?? beautiful boombox boy

CHAPTER TAGS: Rodimus/Blaster(implied rodimus/huffer, crosscut, kindle, siren, and rad), oral, blowjobs, sexual frustration, blaster's servos can vibrate, the most painful nut ever, rodimus continues to make bad decisions

Ultra Magnus’s little magnetizer trick had been dirty, underhanded, cruel, unusual, and downright sadistic(from a certain point of view). But it was also stupid, considering that as long as Rodimus still had one hole, by primus he was gonna use it.

The only thing this horrible device had managed to do was shorten his one on ones. He was still going to give his beloved crew the helm of a lifetime, but without having to worry about chasing his own edge, it meant Rodimus was more inclined to get things done quicker. He had managed to check Siren, Huffer, Crosscut, Kindle, and Rad off his list in the two cycles following the incident, however there were some… adverse effects that these meetings were having on him.

It was hard not to get at least a little bit excited when giving helm, and that became an issue in and of itself, as Rodimus’s array had started complaining more and more as he continued to deny its release.

Rodimus stalked down the ship's hallway, faceplate set in a frustrated scowl as he made his way back towards his office. He felt like he was walking with a limp, which would have been fun and sexy if he was limping because he’d been spiked silly, but instead was infuriating… because he was limping from having to walk with a stupid fragging magnetizer attached to his overheated panels.

The captain absently swiped at his intake, making sure there were no traces of transfluid still there from his ‘meeting’ with Rad. He was a bit shy, considering the captain’s ongoing predicament, but still managed to get a good overload in from the deal. It was getting harder for Rodimus to focus when he was giving out his one on ones, it felt like every encounter added new, angrier popups in his processor screeching for him to overload. His helm was swimming by the time he’d felt Rad finish, and it had taken the bot grabbing him by his finials and dragging him off to bring him back to reality.

So there he was, pouting his way to his office, manually dismissing every one of the popups in his processor to clear his mind so he could think again. He entered the access code, cursing as he flubbed the code the first time and stormed in, letting the door close behind him. He flopped into his chair with an exhausted groan. He eyed the stack of datapads on his desk that he had been instructed to fill out and sign. They were supply manifests… he thought. He wasn’t entirely paying attention to what Ultra Magnus was saying that morning as he’d been considering the unpleasant flavour the aftertaste of transfluid in his mouth made when mixed with his morning energon. Gross. Rodimus chuckled to himself at the thought. Primus, that was fragging disgusting, he was fragging disgusting. He smirked to himself.

He reached across the desk and tapped at the first datapad, propping his legs up as he began the daily slog through datawork. He let his optics go into skimming mode as he scrolled halfheartedly through the document. He had gathered it was some list of acquisition requests that the crew members had personally made, so he began signing off his approval.

A new shipment of high quality engex for swerve’s… approved

A bulk order of plating patches for the medibay… approved

A set of high quality wrenches for Brainstorm’s laboratory… approved

Rodimus shifted around a bit in his chair.

A blank datapad shipment… approved

Replacement parts for the staff room vending machine that Megatron had accidentally broken… approved

It was impossible to get comfortable, he felt overheated without even being particularly aroused.

A palette of hover scooters… denied

Rodimus froze. He set the datapad down and glanced between his thighs. His faceplate flared hot with embarrassment. He was fragging leaking.

It was a miracle that he hadn’t started doing so before he made it to his office, but all the same, around the edges of his panels he could see prefluid seeping out, making the tiniest little puddle on his chair. Rodimus let out a long, frustrated groan, letting his helm thunk against the back of his chair. This was humiliating. He reached for one of his drawers and plucked out a rag, quickly swiping at his panels and the seat before stuffing it under himself and getting back to work.

Ping! Another popup at the front of his mind ‘Open Interface Array?’

He closed the popup. It wasn’t his fault he was in this mess! He was just trying to show a little gratitude for his crew! Some.. sloppy, sticky gratitude, but gratitude nonetheless. Interface was different now, it was purely a means to making his apologetic feelings known, letting people know he really could change. He’d do anything his crew wanted for their approval.

He swallowed thickly. Anything they wanted… He recalled the servos gripping at his helm, the weight of a spike in his intake or the smooth mesh of a valve under his glossa. Oral was easy, Rodimus had plenty of time to practice in the washracks and supply closets of various barracks during the war. But this fuzzy, syrupy slowness that accompanied the denial of his own overload was something… new.

He felt his fans starting to kick on. He willed them up higher, trying to blow off as much of the excess heat as he could. He refocused on the requests on his datapad.

A new set of parts for one of the busted replicators… approved

A bulk order of glassware for the canteen… approved

… the rag was getting soaked.

Rodimus slammed down his datapad and stood up. He quickly scanned through his itinerary for the day, confirming he had an hour and a half free before his meeting with the comms officer, before wiping up any visible prefluid around his panels and beginning to speedwalk towards the medibay.

“What do you MEAN you can’t do it!!?” Rodimus shouted. He sat up a bit from the slab, only to get a firm servo on his chassis pushing him back down. “You’re Ratchet!”

“I didn’t say can’t, I said won’t, Rodimus.” Ratchet sighed out in exasperation.

“B-but it huuuuurts, I’m dying here, I can feel my spark about to go out!!” Rodimus whined, rolling his helm back.

“I know thats a lie, Rodimus, any discomfort you’re feeling is perfectly normal with a device like this, and I’ve received direct orders not to take it off without dire circumstances or reasons to do so.” Ratchet sounded like he was reciting something, it was likely that he was, considering who was the mastermind behind this whole wicked scheme.

“Direct orders that I as captain-” Rodimus began.

“Co-Captain.”

“WHATEVER! I outrank Ultra Magnus, I should be able to make those orders completely moot, right!?” Rodimus stared pleadingly at Ratchet, searching for some ounce of sympathy in his field.

Ratchet bit back a smug grin. “Not in cases surrounding Cybertronian Resourses violations. I’m afraid you’re stuck with that until Magnus decides otherwise.”

Rodimus let out a pitiful moan, going limp against the slab. “I’m gonna die…” He whimpered.

“You know, as your doctor I would suggest that you find other outlets for mitigating this sexual frustration. Try to focus on your work, get a hobby, something to take your mind off interfacing until you get the clamp off you.” Ratchet began, carefully reaching down to swipe away the excess prefluid that had gathered around Rodimus’s panels during their appointment. Rodimus bit back a desperate moan. “But as someone who knows you, I understand that’s not exactly something you’re going to be able to stop yourself from doing. So I’ll prescribe you some coolant accelerators and hope for the best.” The medic offered an insincere, borderline malicious smile and helped Rodimus off of the slab.

Rodimus glared daggers at Ratchet, clenching his servos. He let his processor wander, wondering if he could convince First Aid to help him out.

“And I wouldn’t get any ideas about begging for help from the crew.” Ratchet had turned away, now gazing at a datapad and beginning to flick through it. “Ultra Magnus sent out a memo to the crew’s comms to let them know any interference with your ‘reeducation’ would be considered grounds for a week in the brig.”

Rodimus growled again. “... thanks doc, always a pleasure…”

“So, just to be clear, theres nothing at all?” Rodimus asked, leaning helm on his servo.

“Well, I wouldn’t say nothin’ at all, but radio signals have gotten sparse now that we’re back on our way, no urgent notices from Cybertron, some minor radio chatter from ships we’ve passed, but nothing terribly concerning.” Blaster explained, turning his datapad to indicate the waves coming in.

Rodimus nodded inquisitively, shifting again in his seat. “Cool, thats good news, thanks Blaster.” Rodimus said.

“... Yeah…” Blaster said slowly, looking the captain up and down for a moment. Rodimus squeezed his crossed legs a bit. “Listen, cap, I gotta say, uh… I heard about the whole… Ultra Magnus… CR violations… thing.” He said awkwardly, glancing away.

“...Yeah. It’s not a big deal, I gotta learn to be professional.” Rodimus gritted out, failing to hide his adverse feelings on the whole matter. He was fighting to keep his field to himself, but it was clear that Blaster was seeing through it.

“I did also hear about your… one on ones.” Blaster lowered his voice, putting the datapad away in his subspace.

Rodimus perked up. “Yeah?”

“Well- Yeah, obviously, Roddy, you sent a comm to the whole crew about it.” Blaster chuckled.

“The whole crew- except for Megatron and Ultra Magnus.” Rodimus corrected.

“Yeah, listen man… I dunno if I agree with the whole thing Mags cooked up, I dunno if its the best like… plan? On your part, to go around slingin your array at whoever’ll take it…” Blaster glanced around bashfully.

Rodimus frowned. “Where are you going with this?”

“I mean you gotta know that actions speak louder than words, you gotta show the crew that you’re on their side, that you do stuff for their benefit, all that stuff- but!” Blaster kicked one of his pedes a bit. “Y’know, I wouldn’t say no to ah… what was it you called it? An ‘apology’?”

Rodimus perked up again, slowly standing up from his chair. “Oh yeah?” Rodimus remembered the rag he’d stuffed on the seat and quickly snatched it up, covertly tossing it into one of his drawers while Blaster wasn’t looking. “Sure, I’d be happy to- Wait- You gotta promise me this isn’t a test or anything, like- Mags didn’t put you up to this did he?”

Blaster shook his helm, expression melting into an easy-if slightly relieved- smile. “Nah- I figured you’d still be at this whole thing… heard some intel from some other bots… wanted to see if you’re all you’re cracked up to be.”

Rodimus quickly denied his fans request to turn on, clearing his vocalizer. “Well, I guess I got time between my meetings… Have a seat.” He said, gesturing to his desk chair.

Rodimus eagerly rushed to the office door, punching in the locking code as Blaster sat down. A lance of embarrassment struck through him as Blaster made a surprised noise.

“Primus, Rod, you uh- heh- you a little worked up there?” His Comms officer chuckled. “Your seat’s a bit sticky-”

“ITS NOTHING!” Rodimus bleated out, face flaring as he trotted over and knelt down between Blaster’s thighs. “Just- just coolant, nothing else.”

“Yeah, sure.” Blaster smirked, rubbing a servo over his own panels. “You’re sure you’re up to this, pal?”

“‘Course I am, c’mon, we both got places to be.” Rodimus hissed impatiently.

Blaster shrugged, exhaling a little chuckle before letting his panels open. Rodimus let out a relieved sigh at the sight of it, running a digit gently around the edge of his slowly pressurizing spike. It was that sleek, warm grey colour along the underside, red on the top all the way up to a yellow tip, with little triangular yellow biolights along the underside. Rodimus licked his dermas, letting his optics dim a bit. He almost went for it, before remembering what all these apologies were about.

“So, Blaster, how do you want me?” Rodimus asked pleasantly, fighting to keep his voice from sounding too desperate. His optics flickered a bit when Blaster’s servo came around to rest gently on the side of his helm.

“I’d love to get my spike in that mouth and see you work your magic, Cap…” Blaster breathed, letting his digits trace the edge of Rodimus’s lower finials. Rodimus’s fans kicked on without thinking.

“A-” Rodimus cleared his vocalizer. “Alright, heard and listened to!” Rodimus said, allowing himself a pang of pride at his line usage when Blaster’s vents stuttered. He opened his intake, lolling his glossa out to lave over the tip of Blaster’s spike. Offlining his optics, he wrapped his dermas around the shaft, slowly bobbing his helm downwards towards the base. He laved his glossa slowly over the ridges and edges of Blaster’s biolights, allowing himself a moment to feel at the smooth texture of them. Rodimus hummed quietly as he worked, taking the spike two thirds down before leaning his helm back and drawing it slowly up to the tip.

Blaster let out a low, pleased moan, his thumb rubbing fondly at the side of Rodimus’s helm. “Ahhh, thats it… hah, you must be pretty glad you got sparked with an intake like this, huh?”

Rodimus hummed lightly in confirmation, peeking up at Blaster coquettishly as he rubbed the tip of his glossa over the comms officer’s spikehead. A shudder wracked through Rodimus’s frame as the other mech moaned, low and deep in his chassis. He felt a lick of Blaster’s charge ground through him and tightened his grip on Blaster’s thighs. He started pumping his helm up and down, darting his glossa out against the underside of his spike and swallowing the growing flow of prefluid where it pooled at the back of his intake. Rodimus brought one of his servos up, wrapping around the base gently as he massaged the soft protoform there.

Suddenly, Blaster’s grip on his helm shifted, now grasping the back of his helm and dragging him down further. Rodimus felt his optics glitch and reset, his gaze flicking up to the larger bot’s face. There was hunger in Blaster’s optics, deep and carnal, held back by a thin, fraying thread of propriety.

Rodimus’s processor produced several popups at once, warning him of an obtrusion squeezing down his throat, demanding he open his panels, informing him his fans were working hard to stave off overheat. Rodimus gagged, feeling his optics glitch again, bits of charge fritzing over the bridge of his nose between them. He fought back as much control as he could, beginning to close out the popups. He was swiftly interrupted when Blaster’s spikehead slid readily back into his throat and his nose brushed against his panels. Rodimus let out a muffled whine.

“Ah.. attabot, frag…” Blaster licked his dermas, a curl of steam escaping his lustful smile. “You take it so well, cap…”

Rodimus’s processor screamed, overfilling with warnings and demands. That ounce of praise rocked him to his core, drawing a pitiful, staticky whimper from his vocalizer. He dragged his glossa frantically against whatever part of his spike he could reach. A bubble of intake lubricant dribbled down his jaw. He could feel his frame shivering with charge. What was happening to him? Giving helm had never had him this worked up before.

Rodimus swallowed and began to move his helm again, relishing the slippery, undignified noises that filled the room. He sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks against Blaster’s shaft and earning another punched out groan. He could feel him start to twitch in his intake and moaned in anticipation. Blaster’s other servo reached down, curling around one of his finials as his hips began to stutter.

“Ah- Primus- frag-! Roddy-” He gasped, his fans roaring. Rodimus strained to pull his helm back, focusing all his attention on Blaster’s tip. With a glitchy, choked out groan, Rodimus felt transfluid hitting the roof of his intake. He greedily swallowed down what he could, gasping in surprise as it escaped his dermas. Rodimus felt as though he was about to overheat watching Blaster stroke his spike, splatters of his transfluid hitting his helm and faceplate.

Rodimus panted, fighting to close out the dozens of popups clouding his processor. He laid his messy helm against Blaster’s thigh, trying to get his vents under control. He could already feel his panels were overheated and embarrassingly sticky with excess prefluid. He absently pawed at the plating there, drawing his servo back with a pained hiss.

“... Whoooooh….” Blaster breathed, clearing his vocalizer and sitting up a bit. “That was quite the show, captain, thanks..” He chuckled. “Oh- uh… sorry for- er..” He gestured generally at his face.

“‘S fine… h..how would you rate uh… your…” Rodimus mumbled blearily. He noted Blaster was rummaging around his desk, but couldn’t bring himself to care. He offlined his optics and relished the feeling of a cool rag swiping the transfluid off his face and finials.

“It was great, Roddy, thanks for helpin me blow off some steam.” Blaster murmured. Rodimus could feel the warmth in his voice and swelled with unfocused pride. He drank in the relaxation and fondness in Blaster’s field, wrapping around him like a warm blanket.

“Happy to help…” Rodimus wheezed hoarsely. He shakily got up off the ground, wincing as a thick drizzle of prefluid dripped from his panels. When he onlined his optics again, he was greeted with Blaster’s pitying look, optics focused between the captain’s legs. “D-don’t worry about me!” Rodimus said, attempting a confident and chipper tone, but unable to force the strain completely from his voice. “This was all for you, Blaster, see, I’m all about listening to my crew and rewarding their efforts.”

Blaster chuckled. “Yeah, thanks cap.” He slowly rose from Rodimus’s seat, closing his panels up. “Just hate to leave a bot hanging, is all.”

Please don’t leave me like this. Rodimus thought. Please don’t let me die of overheating.

“Nah- Not much either of us can do about it anyhow.” Rodimus waved a dismissive servo.

“On the contrary, actually… at least- I think?” Blaster offered. “I dunno about getting that thing off you, but I bet I could get you an overload at least?”

Rodimus’s intake felt dry. “... huh?”

Blaster smirked, sitting back down in the chair. He patted his lap. “C’mere.”

Rodimus shifted uncomfortably, climbing backwards into Blaster’s lap and leaning against the other bot’s chassis. He shivered at Blaster’s servos on him, one wrapping around his slender waist to hold him in place while the other delicately hovered over his panels.

“Might be a bit intense, okay? Just hold on and let me know if you want me to stop.” Blaster warned, finally bringing his digits down to hold Rodimus’s overheated panels.

“J-just do it, please-!” Rodimus gritted out through a whine.

Rodimus’s optics fritzed and rebooted at the first sensations of vibration on his panels. He let out a loud, surprised moan, half cutting out with static as the oversensitive protoform below his panels seared with pleasure. The vibration was intense, just dancing on the line of painful and pleasurable, heady and bassy and rocking him to his very core.

“Feel good, cap?” Blaster asked.

“Aa-auhuh!!” Rodimus answered intelligently, bucking his hips against Blaster’s hand. His vocalizer felt raw, his voice breaking and cracking as he moaned out.

“Keep it down- someone’s gonna hear!” Blaster hissed, upping the vibration as he did and forcing another desperate cry from Rodimus’s vocalizer. Rodimus’s optics glitched and flared as Blaster clamped a servo over his intake, silencing him only partly as he writhed and bucked in his lap.

It was starting to hurt now, his processor more full and garbled than ever as his array pulsed and throbbed in need. His optics flickered. Drool bubbled between Blaster’s digits. He could feel every bit of his plating searing against Blaster’s.

Rodimus let out a pitiful, needy sob as the other mech’s servo squeezed his panels down tighter against his array. He was practically humping Blaster’s servo at this point, chasing that painful, burning edge as he dumbly whined into his digits.

(go to my AO3 for the illustrated version)

Blaster kicked the vibrations up one more notch and Rodimus saw white. He was dying, he was crashing, he was overloading- Rodimus’s frame arched back, strung taught as a bowstring as transfluid poured from the seams in his panels messily over the magnetizer and Blaster’s digits. He shuddered and bucked and twitched as Blaster drew his servo back, curling back over on himself and grabbing the edge of his desk. Blaster carefully released his faceplate, a string of drool sloppily escaping his dermas as he let out one final, broken moan.

Rodimus curled his hips forwards, drawing the desk chair in against the desk so he could rest his helm against it. His array ached, now sloppy and coated with his own transfluid beneath his panels. He could feel himself leaking copiously onto his chair, embarrassment pooling in his tanks as he heard it dribble off the edge of the seat and onto the floor.

“Th… thanks Blaster…” Rodimus mumbled brokenly.

Blaster patted his aft gently, carefully lifting the captain up enough to slip out from under him. “No worries, captain.” Rodimus felt a half wet rag hit his panels and hissed in discomfort. He let out a stringy whine as Blaster cleaned him and the seat up, leaving the rag on the arm of his chair.

Rodimus lifted his helm up, watching Blaster unlock the door. “Keep up the good work!” He called after him, earning a laugh as Blaster walked off down the hallway.

Rodimus sat back, examining the state of himself. That was truly the most painful overload he had ever had.

…

He didn’t like how good that notion felt in his processor.

He didn’t like how good the overload had felt either.

“... This had better not awaken anything in me.” Rodimus muttered, before shakily reaching for another datapad to work on.

#transformers #my art #my fic #maccadam #transformers mtmte #rodimus #blaster #ratchet #valveplug #/nsfw #blaster/rodimus #VERY stupid fic #i love writing fics that are dumb #smut

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mitochondriaandbunnies · 1 month

Text

Miami Vice S1E18: Made for Each Other

Larry's house burns down, and Izzy and Noogie are sent undercover.

Made for Each Other suffers immensely from coming right after The Maze, which is a true "the system is broken" classic Vice episode. Made for Each Other is a comedy breather, and actually kind of great in its own right, but where it sits in the progression of the series feels more like a deflation than a break.

Made for Each Other is also almost comically homoerotic-- it's the episode that convinced me that Sonny is supposed to be a textually closeted bisexual man on my first watch through of the series, but on a repeat watch it's somehow even more obvious. Why are there all those half-naked bears on a boat? Why is the entire plot basically "Stan and Larry sort of have a breakup because of Stan's new girlfriend and then get back together at the end?" Why does Izzy keep saying things like nubile and anal? Why does the camera linger so very long on his and Noogie's cigarillos touching? What's up with the repetition of 'shafted'? Why are all the guests at Noogie's wedding like, extras from a Boy George video?

Why does this happen?

(plz draw your OT3 like this)

Anyway I actually really like Made For Each Other upon rewatch, it really just should have been placed elsewhere in the season. It's a fun, silly episode, and a little levity is necessary in a series that is often so very bleak.

The episode opens with Sonny and Rico trying to catch a counterfeiter, and Rico is bitchy and condescending to Sonny in a way that I think is supposed to be "ha ha, my criminal persona is a dick," but actually just comes off as "ha ha, I am a dick." It seems like he's trying to impress the counterfeiter by throwing Sonny under the bus. This occasional cruelty towards someone he does genuinely like is a fascinating part of Rico's characterization, and part of what elevates his character writing to "actual nuanced person" and not "nice Black sidekick who always supports the main white guy." Rico absolutely sees himself as more educated and worldly than Sonny, and occasionally he lets that slip. He has a very complicated relationship to both class and geography-- he's a New Yorker (...from the Bronx), he wears a perfectly tailored suit everyday (...and is a poorly paid cop), he idolizes Sonny for his football career but also thinks he's a bit of a yokel. As someone whose own class status is a bit shaky, Rico tends to get a little mean when it seems like he might be 'found out.'

Zito almost gets blown up in the ensuing warehouse fire, and Switek flips out. A short while later, a surprisingly chill Zito says he believes things are "either in whack or out of whack," shortly after while they discover that his entire house is on fire.

Please note the company that moves Zito's stuff to Switek's house:

I am dying

Trudy and Gina, in their only real appearance in the episode, very sweetly present Zito with a new fish as an office gift. Sonny is a dick about it.

Swi and Zito go to investigate BONZO BARRY who is a shady stereo and computer system dealer who has a FUCKING SEAL in his store

Michael Talbott is wildly overacting this entire episode, like to the point that I wonder if they had to turn down his mic

Noogie is marrying a stripper(?) named Ample Annie. They argue about going to Disneyland while she's practicing her routine. She does a striptease down the aisle. She is perhaps the only person bonkers enough to keep up with Noogie.

Stan's girlfriend, Darlene (who was Larry's girlfriend a short period of time ago), is extremely unhappy with Larry staying at their house, and spends the entire episode either complaining or being upset that the conditions are not right to bone; frankly, Stan does not seem to like her and she does not seem to like Stan. The most likely reasoning behind this is "bad 80's hurr hurr the ol' ball and chain" comedy, but considering the homoeroticism of the episode I'd like to think it could be a comment on compulsory heterosexuality

Izzy and Noogie show up at Stan's and, in one ridiculous whirlwind, declare the current case "theirs," ask who is the "Captain Kirk of this Enterprise," and start eating Stan's breakfast

In one scene Tubbs asks Zito and Swi if they want backup and they both very loudly yell NO like he's the reason everything has been on fire in this episode

Switek asks Zito at one point, "do you ever think about the future, Larry?" and Zito answers No.

This is funny the first time you watch the episode!

This is not funny anymore after Season 3.

The bad guy (whose crime seems to be like. Selling stolen stereos or something equally stupid) has a boat full of half-naked men with guns. This is not remarked upon.

Then we get to the Night Talk scene. I've talked at length about this scene before, but basically: Zito has been kicked out of Switek's and is sleeping at the station; Sonny comes in, romantic music plays, Zito basically describes Switek as the perfect man, and Sonny tries to get Zito to come back to his place (and fails.) It's very gay. I like to think that Sonny has a burgeoning crush on Rico at this point but is certain Rico is straight (and also. Y'know. Was a bit of an asshole at the beginning of the episode.) and takes desperate, tragic shot on Zito because of that. Zito politely declines because his heart is already spoken for.

Meanwhile, Stan is unable to perform sexually because he's thinking about Larry.

I'm sure that means nothing.

The outfits at Noogie's wedding are just. They are. Truly they are something.

The priest is a leather daddy. Many people appear to be in space blankets, including Noogie. Annie has a tearaway wedding dress. The pianist has the world's most incredible zebra shirt. There are headbands and weird hats abound.

By contrast, all the members of Vice look like they're supposed to be at a PTA meeting. (Also Sonny looks like he wishes he could ask where the punch is but doesn't want to bother Gina and Trudy, who are clearly each others' plus-ones.)

And the episode ends with Switek and Zito, side by side, at a wedding.

#miami vice #miami vice s1 #s1e19 #made for each other #larry zito #stan switek #izzy moreno #noogie lamont #sonny crockett #my gifs

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