#she told him that because she's a fucking moron and lesbian is just a word anyway and her being trans does fucking change anything +

[kqluckity]

okay i have a pale vriskat humanstuck au idea but I'll maybe share it in the morning if I still feel like it or maybe I'll put it in the tags of this here post idk

#okay I'm putting it here and maybe I'll delete it tomorrow but if I don't share this I won't be able to sleep and I need to wake up at 4:30 #so basically #vriska and karkat are best friends but refuse to acknowledge it but like. they are #they have friendship bracelets (made at summer camp) and also are basically the first person they both came out to #it was at a slumber party they had to be at because their older siblings were there etc etc #basically they accidentally came out and bonded A LOT because of that and karkat was the first person Vriska told she was trans too #this whole idea came to me because I thought it'd be pretty funny if these two called each other + #dyke and fag on the regular tbh #like straight up that's how they are saved on their phones #vriska is ''second worst dyke I've ever met'' and takes great offense in being 2nd (he knows that's why he put it there) #and karkat is saved ''fag of my heart <3'' which makes dave super jealous when he learns it because he also wants to be called that #+ by someone (by rose) #also i have other ideas like how once karkat beat a guy because he was being awful to vriska behind her back and to kk' #kk's face thinking he would agree. he didn't. only he can be a bitch to vriska #or how they both had a crush on Egbert before either she or Vriska came out (that's why she started calling him fag) #(and because yes he's bi yes he prefers guys shut up) #and THEN they both had a crush on Terezi and it was the first time Vriska ever had a crush on another girl (afask) and was like Oh Shit #then I have this idea about Vriska not feeling worthy of the label lesbian because she's trans and Karkat throwing a Vintage Shitfit when + #she told him that because she's a fucking moron and lesbian is just a word anyway and her being trans does fucking change anything + #and did he mention she's a moron? because she is #OH karkat is trans too in this au #he came out to his family when he was veeeerryyy young so no one really knew him before he started socially transitioning besides + #nepeta and sollux because their parents are sort of in a polycule and kanaya because she's his cousin #anyways at the end of the rant vriska is sort of crying and also sort of shoves him down the stairs #(it wasn't that many. he didn't break anything just his ego got bruised) #okay no yeah this is all I have to say #if this accidentally ends in a main tag and someone who sees this wants to send me a death threat for having used the words + #fag and dyke please at least be creative with them I have anon on mwah #hs

[ootori-sibs]

Kyoya's second shot

Episode three: Dawn of a new day

There was something off about Haruhi the next day, none of the hosts knew what was up with her- no one but Kyoya. He smiled the moment he saw her walk in, face curled into a look of disgust. He noted it down as she sat down, frowning.

11:30 - Haruhi has arrived, it's evident Nekozawa has done his job. It's my turn.

He approached her, trying to not to react to the smell. "Are you alright Haruhi? You look troubled." She looked up at him curiously, tilting her head slightly.

"I think Nekozawa-senpai did something to my bag." Oh. She got it instantly, that was unexpected. Kyoya hummed nonchalantly, not wanting to give anything away.

"What did he-"

"Oh heavens!" Here came the darling king, swooping in to save his precious 'princess'. "Are you alright Haruhi? You aren't cursed are you??" Both Haruhi and Kyoya sighed at that, Kyoya instantly feeling furious at her for sighing- why don't you appreciate your boyfriend's care? Huh? Bitch? Kyoya would love and appreciate that kind of care so much, he's only sighing because his plan is already failing.

"Nah I'm not cursed, I think he put something super stinky in my bag…" she hummed in thought, rummaging through the bag. She pulled out a black envelope, the source of the smell. It was closed with a wax seal and written on in crimson ink, a curse in latin.

Dominus soporem in tenebris, et funiculus iste coccineus et habitatores figure non amare Princeps Ouran. classis superioris, dimiserunt eam cadere a gratia Dei.

Kyoya knew Latin, and he found it amusing what Nekozawa had said, making sure to not show any signs of amusement as Tamaki panicked over the clear curse and Haruhi carefully opened the envelope. The curse read: 'Dark lord in slumber, let this scarlet figure never settle in love with the prince of Ouran. Let her fall from the graces of the upper class'. Kyoya absolutely loved the little nod to his own command, Umehito was always one for poetic justice.

Haruhi pulled a burnt stick of elderwood, the rest of the envelope was filled with dodder and deadly nightshade. It was soaked through with a horrendous perfume, Nekozawa's handiwork, with which he'd gotten Kirimis help, the younger a child the more evil, Kyoya's own brother had told him that. She looked at it with a frown, ignoring Tamaki's wide eyes and blabbering expression, instead heading straight to the bin to dispose of the curse. "What a weird guy, wonder how I annoyed him." But it wasn't him she'd pissed off, and she'd soon be made aware.

"How are you not worried!?" The king cried out, clearly genuinely scared his princess would be hurt. "You were cursed!!" Kyoya sighed, he was unbelievably bitter that Haruhi was already fucking things up for him, but also didn't want Tamaki to fret too much.

"And she got rid of it, therefore: no longer cursed." He hated to admit that his plan was already failing but it was ok, he was sure Nekozawa could up his game on the same day. In fact he quickly sent a text to the councils newly made group chat to ensure it.

Shadow king: Nekozawa. You're not doing well enough, Haruhi has located and dispelled your "curse" within seconds. Do better or we'll move forward without you.

Sorcerer: Of course, it shall be done.

Kyoya was glad Nekozawa was taking his job seriously, although it wasn't a real threat, Kyoya needed him for the plan to work. He returned to his seat, silently continuing with the finances.

Not an hour later, Haruhi was sweating like a pig, looking exhausted and so much more what Kyoya had expected from a curse. She told Tamaki she didn't know what was wrong, he clutched her close, cradling her softly. It made Kyoya feel sick… then Tamaki yelped, pulling his hand away from Haruhi's middle back.

"What the hell was that? You're boiling!" He points to a place at Haruhi's back, and the twins come swooping in, pulling her shirt up just so. Salts, a cloth laden with hot water and salts- a fake fever. Kyoya couldn't believe Haruhi hadn't noticed that before now, it was stupid.

"Huh… that's weird, do you think it was Nekozawa again?" Haruhi asked, holding the cloth, the twins shrugged, tilting their heads in unison.

"Not sure, probably." They spoke in unison, clearly feeling something off. "Why is he suddenly targeting you… did you do something to the puppet?"

"Not that I know of…" The four of them began theorising ways Haruhi could have pissed Nekozawa off, perfect, Kyoya had a willing scapegoat.

Shadow king: Do you have a scoop yet, Komatsuzawa?

Bitchboy: I have a few ideas, but I'd like to change my nickname first.

Child: but it's so fitting

Bitchboy: Silence child.

Shadow king: You may change your name once you prove yourself useful. What's your scoop?

Bitchboy: Well her father's "career" is certainly one sure to cause a stir.

Shadow king: Absolutely not, we will not be insulting Ranka in order to bring Haruhi down. He doesn't deserve that.

Bitchboy: What? Ugh, fine. There's also, we could imply she's been with the twins?

Shadow king: But the twins have done nothing wrong.

Kyoya sighed, sure his plan would hurt them all, but he didn't want to hurt his friends unnecessarily. They didn't deserve that… he could feel the guilt building up again. He was never the best with emotions…

"Mommy dear?"

Tamaki's voice rang in Kyoya's ears, startling him slightly, not looking over but just staring at the numbers on his screen, clutching his phone tightly, as if it would suppress the notification sound. "Yes Daddy?" The stupid nicknames Tamaki insisted on using, it just reminded Kyoya of how things should be. He should be the one by Tamaki's side, club mother, vice president, shadow king. They were the monarchs of Ouran, the most powerful students there, why weren't they together..?

"Are you alright?" Tamaki frowned, leaning closer, wrapping his arms around Kyoya and resting his head on his shoulder. Kyoya felt his cheeks heat up, but he was likely wearing enough makeup to hide it. "I was going to ask about the finances but you seem a little on edge mon ami, is everything okay?"

Kyoya felt guilty, Tamaki was so sweet, so good. Kyoya was doing such evil acts, and his beloved had no idea… he had no idea he was even the one Kyoya loved. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in an attempt to battle the feelings into submission, lest the tears well up. "I'm fine, Tamaki, don't be ridiculous."

"Why are you on edge then?" Kyoya felt his phone buzz gently, putting him even more on edge, luckily it didn't seem like Tamaki noticed. Kyoya wasn't quite sure how to respond to the king's question, he couldn't think of a good excuse.

"Why is it important? There's nothing wrong with simply being startled, I can't always be on high alert, I'm no guard dog." His words bit back at the princeling with venom, he couldn't think of a good defence, so he faked spite and hoped it would work.

Surprisingly, Tamaki did indeed back off, looking confused, and slightly hurt. It was ok though, Kyoya told himself, this was all for Tamaki's sake in the end. He checked his phone.

Bitchboy: We could say she's a lesbian? She did kiss a girl after all.

Not to mention all the hosting she'd done with the ladies… oh, Kyoya could see the headline already. He was almost positive she was bisexual anyway, it wasn't that much of a strech… he paused, what was Akira saying though? Was he suggesting Haruhi didn't really love Tamaki like would be perfect, or was he trying to be homophobic?

Shadow king: Elaborate?

Bitchboy: Do I really need to?

Peasant: well it does sound kinda homophobic to claim that sort of thing could ruin her image…

Bitchboy: Ruining her image is the whole point, moron.

Shadow king: How do you entirely miss the point like that?

It's almost impressive.

But you're the moron Komatsuzawa.

You better find something a little less incriminating of your own mind.

Kyoya sighed heavily, why must he surround himself with such disgusting people. It wasn't hard to find good people, hell, he was surrounded by at least folks good enough at pretending to be good, the issue was that good people never wanted to do bad things. So this was what he must do.

13:30 - The folks I surround myself with make me sick. But it must be done. Tamaki has begun to show slight worry towards my more nervous mannerisms, I managed to get him to stand down. I have yet to perform my duty.

Bitchboy: Of course you'd support that kind of behaviour, Ootori.

Kyoya frowned down at his phone, this little dick… He glanced over at Tamaki, who had just asked him a question, although he had failed to process it. "I'm sorry Tamaki, what was that?"

"I said; are you coming to lunch with us? You haven't joined us at all this week."

"Ah," Kyoya began, it was true he hadn't joined them at all, but that was simply because he hadn't had lunch all week, "I'm afraid I won't be joining you today either, please enjoy yourself." He smiles, a polite, designed to placate, smile. Turning back to his phone, he replied to Akira's message.

Shadow king: And what exactly does that mean?

Bitchboy: Well you're the same aren't you?

Sorcerer: Aw, don't be mean just because you're correct. He's Souh-san's best friend.

Akira had sent another text after that, but Kyoya didn't want to think about it, he'd used a word he didn't even think people used unless they were openly violent, or gay themselves. So that was just wonderful, Kyoya was working with a homophobe, lovely. He decided to at least note this down before doing his own part of the deal.

13:32 - Akira Komatsuzawa is a homophobe.

He left his phone on silent and in his bag, before standing and walking over to Haruhi's bag, digging through carefully, not wanting to make it look too obvious things had been looked through. He took her phone out of the bag, looking it over carefully, oh, she had a cute set of phone charms… little plastic roses, and there was one in each of the host's colours. Even purple. Kyoya took great care with removing that charm, tucking it into his pocket gently. He may mean malice towards the commoner, but he wouldn't hurt anything with sentimental value, at least if it could be avoided.

He made his way to the window, looking out. There were too many people, he couldn't achieve it like this. So he instead went out into the hallway, walking in the opposite direction from the canteen, making his way down to the ground floor and then outside. He knew exactly where to go.

He was a lover of poetic justice, just like Umehito, and he could remember Haruhi's first week. The poor, poor commoner was bullied by one of Tamaki's regulars. That girl had thrown Haruhi's bag in the fountain to the east of the club room, the one with the cherub without wings. As Kyoya made his way to that very fountain, he thought about how ironic it would be if he put her phone in that very fountain. So that's what he would do.

When he got there, he saw the exact girl he'd been thinking about, sat there, with a little bento box her maids had made for her. She looked up at him and frowned. "What are you doing out here? Why aren't you with the rest of your club?"

"Hello Ayanokoji, do you know who this belongs to?" He holds up the phone, knowing full well she knew who's it was.

"That's Fujioka's phone… why do you have it?" She asked him, clearly on the defensive, not understanding why he was here. To answer her question, Kyoya simply lifted his hand and tossed the phone into the water idly. Looking her in the eyes as he does so, watching hers go wide "Wha-? Huh??" It seemed she'd assumed all the hosts were under Haruhi's thumb.

"Help me, Seika Ayanokoji, we have the same goals in mind." He offered her entrance to the council, without letting her know it existed. Kyoya even held his hand out to her, it was obvious from his body language that he was offering her an opportunity, but his words seemed like the deal would only benefit him. So he wasn't surprised to hear her response:

"What's in it for me?" She'd glanced down at his hand in suspicion, before looking back up at him, not trusting his words one bit.

"Oh let's see…" he pretended to think, already knowing exactly what to offer her. "I'll remove you from the club's black list." He knew for a fact that that'd get her going, she was the same as all the other girls after all. Her eyes widening at the prospect of being hosted by Tamaki once again proved him right, although he couldn't say he didn't blame her- they did have similar motives.

She took his hand, standing and giving him a smirk. "You've got a deal, what do you need me to do?"

Kyoya just smiled wickedly in response.

"I want you to do anything in your power to make that commoner suffer. Don't let anyone know I'm involved, but get anyone you want involved. Cause her trouble, make her look bad, make her out to be just what you think of her."

"A little mutt with no pedigree?" She asked, eyes sparkling maliciously, she already knew the answer.

"Precisely, we both know she's not. But the general student body don't need to know that, do they?" He shrugs, casually turning away from her, preparing to walk away.

"You can count on me." She assured, voice full of confidence and spite, exactly what Kyoya needed from his council. He'd originally hated her for being so uppity, then she'd done all that to Haruhi and he'd decided he hated her for being a bully… but bullies can be awfully useful, if you have them on your team.

He got back to the club room, silently tapping his foot on the floor as he took his phone out in order to add her to the group, pausing when he saw Akira's reply.

Bitchboy: Well there is that manager of your club, didn't she pursue the girl?

Kyoya smiled, of course, Renge. She was the perfect scapegoat, it was clear the duo had chemistry. Haruhi had gone to Renge's place after all, no one knows what could have possibly happened there…

Shadow king: Alright then, write your article.

But I will be reading it before it's published.

Kyoya sighed, adding the newest council member to the group chat.

>Seika Ayanokoji joined the group

>Shadow king changed Seika Ayanokoji to Woman#2

Woman#2: Wh

Why do I have to be woman two??

Woman: Bonjour.

Child: Holy shit there are girls here?

Bitchboy: How did we not notice this before?

Shadow king: Miss Ayanokoji will be helping us from now on, she will be present at the next meeting.

I want you all to get along.

He put his phone down just as the other hosts walked back in, combing their hair and adjusting their uniform in preparation to open the club to the guests. Kyoya smiled softly, this was going to be a fun term...

14:12 - Seika Ayanokoji has joined the council, she has been removed from the club blacklist.

A very fun term…

#ouran high school host club #tamaki suoh #takashi morinozuka #tamakyo #tamaharu #kyoya ootori #hikaru and kaoru #haruhi fujioka #nekozowa #eclair Tonnerre

[kuningannasansa]

A musketeers rewatch (that nobody asked for) 1x07

Here we go, my least favorite episode of the whole show excluding season three which I didn’t watch! If you have even a passing fondness for Ninon, I suggest you look away :)

We start with a royal procession through the crowd and there are quite a lot of waving people there. If they can fill the streets with extras for scenes like that, why can those same extras not be used for the court scenes?

Priest whose name I have forgotten is being robbed. The musketeers rush in to help. 

Meanwhile, a crazy girl tries to get close to the queen and ends up being ran over by her carriage. If this is meant to be some Emily Davison analogy, it sucks!

The dead lunatic’s name is Therese and she wanted to give the Queen a note. Constance takes it and says “Fleur, what does this mean?” Am I supposed to take from that that she cannot read for herself? Cause a merchant’s wife definitely, definitely would know how to do that. 

Fleur is nowhere to be seen, however.

“This is an age of glorious discovery!” says Ninon. “Galileo observes the moons of Jupiter... But what is the role of women in this age of wonder?” - well, gee, i don’t know Ninon. Maybe you could have mentioned some female scientists of the era in addition to Galileo? Catherine de Parthenay, anyone? Or Marie Fouquet? Hell, Ninon de l'Enclos, my atheist queen, for whom this Ninon is doubtless named, was a notable woman in her own right! But no, we have to make women look more oppressed than they actually were to make this waste of space look more awesome. 

“My women of Paris, seek your own enlightenment!” - wrong era!

Therese, an orphan from a humble background, wanted to hand a petition to the queen about women’s education.  

“If she was an illiterate orphan she could not have written this. It is misguided but not unintelligent.” - says Richelieu. And indeed he turns out to be right. She didn’t write it. Which is fucking bizarre. 

Anne asks him if he doesn’t favor women’s education and he replies: “I admire learning wherever it is to be found, but this amounts to an attack on the authority of church and state.” Any French history buff know what the actual Richelieu’s thought of women’s education? @tatzelwyrm​? I’m gonna start a biography on him soon, but not until I’m done with this rewatch.

Ninon barges in past the guards and yells “stay out of my way, I will address the King!”. I’m sure this is meant to make her look badass, but she just comes across like a complete idiot who doesn’t understand that she would do better to follow court protocol, no matter how much she might dislike it, if she wants to achieve her goals.    

Luckily for her she’s pretty, so the king doesn’t mind.

“I want to know why this tragedy happened. If your guards are to blame I want them punished.” And then she gives Treville a dirty look! How dare you, you waste of skin and oxygen! Don’t you dare blame Treville for this mess! 

“You knew this lunatic?” - lmao, Richelieu!

Therese was the daughter of Ninon’s servant whom Ninon decided to educate. So she was educated, she COULD have written the petition herself. But she did not. Because when Richelieu says “she wrote this and was killed trying to give it to the Queen” Ninon screeches: “Don’t be ridiculous! She didn’t write it, I did!” And I mean, who exactly is looking down on servant girls here and saying it’s ridiculous to expect them to write something intelligent. It’s not Richelieu. 

But more importantly, WHY?? If Ninon wrote it, why couldn’t she hand it to the Queen? Why did this poor girl have to die? This is so, so stupid! I mean, okay, maybe Therese heard Ninon speak well of the queen and got the idea to hand her the petition on her own, without being told by Ninon to do so. But why did she have it in the first place, if it’s Ninon’s petition?

“Apparently the Comtesse de Laroque believes herself above the normal laws and conventions of society.” ´- well that’s an understatement.  

“The treasury is bankrupt and the country needs a new navy. Ninon has the wealth to provide it.” And that is why Richelieu sends Milady into the salon to find something to use against her. These two are so good in this, I love their scenes together! Pity about the rest of the episode. 

Richelieu is now freaking out about lesbians and Milady is just like “really, dude? really?”. I love her!

“Ninon must pay up or face destruction, I want every last penny from her!” - so it was not his intention to kill her, just to get the money. Interesting.

Fleur’s father is Bonacieux’s cousin. I love that, the commoners having family connections and support circles of their own.

The robbed priest is called Luca! Richelieu is “delighted to see him”, apparently, cause they’re old friends. And Louis isn’t, because he wrote a pamphlet arguing that Kings should bow down to the Pope’s authority. 

“We can’t have a comtesse abducting young women and spiriting them away to her boudoir!” - Oh, Richelieu! Do calm down.

It’s odd watching Richelieu try to use homosexuality to take Ninon down while shipping Trevilieu thou. 

Athos barges into Ninon’s salon, demanding to know where Fleur is and Milady very discreetly hides behind a pillar. Lol! 

And Ninon starts hitting on Athos immediately. She tells him that she’s often thought he’s handsome but the “melancholy aspect” to his looks is “probably only mental vacancy”. Who taught you how to flirt? Why must you be so abrasive and confrontational all the time? Like really, I get she’s meant to be a Strong Woman Who Don’t Take No Shit TM, but she just comes across like a loudmouth. 

Athos likes it thou!

“Forgive our intrusion-” “I will not forgive it!” - Jesus Ninon, it’s just a figure of speech, a polite gesture. People use these in conversation sometimes. She’s so unnecessarily rude smh.

Aramis says he “gladly acknowledges the superiority of the female sex” and I throw up in my mouth a little. That’s not feminism, that’s slimy!

D’artagnan: “If that wasn’t flirting, I don’t know what is.”  Porthos: “Rubbish! She can’t stand him.”  Aramis: “One day I’ll sit down and explain women to you.” - cause we’re all the same and no means yes, right writers?

Luca: “His holiness is concerned about the direction of French foreign policy.” Richelieu: “Well the pope is Spain’s performing monkey.” - he really is so funny! I know I keep saying that, but he is!

Also, YAY politics! Intelligent dialogue! I love this scene so much!

“In matters of religion I defer to Rome, in all else I am my country’s servant” - lol, Richelieu inventing the separation of church and state

Luca: “Is this your final word on the subject?” Richelieu: “It is.” - and that right there is where Luca decides to kill him. The actor plays it really well, knowing it’s coming I can see the briefest moment of regret in his eyes, but without hindsight I wouldn’t notice anything. And he gives Richelieu the poisoned gift. 

Also, isn't it the same guy who plays Margaret’s new man in Harlots? 

Athos says that Therese and Fleur were so far below Ninon in status that they were not in a position to make choices of their own free will. Which is fuckign stupid. But Ninon saying that she views all women as equal regardless of their birth is equally moronic. I mean, sure, they should be, but in reality they’re not and ignoring that doesn’t help anyone. And Athos does point out that Ninon’s money and position gives her certain privileges, but it sits wrong coming from him and not from Porthos or Milady or Constance, who are from poor/less wealthy backgrounds. That said, this is still one of the few semi intelligent scenes in this whole episode, so whatever. At least someone said it. 

Now she kisses him and invites him to dine! And he just looks sad.

Luca tells Richelieu to “deal with” Ninon “firmly”, cause the Pope is dying and Richelieu could be the next Pope if he shows himself a strong defender of the church against “heresy”. What heresy thou? Women learning to read? Lol, that’s so cartoonishly evil and ahistorical, but whatever. This at least explains where Richelieu’s desire to have her burned came from.

Richelieu: “I wouldn’t go so far as to call her a heretic.” Luca: “A woman who openly defies God's laws, what other word is there?” - what laws thou? what has she done, other than hold some salon meetings, as every other noblewoman was doing at the time?

Richelieu promises to consider his options and Luca tells him to pray to the poisoned bone for guidance, lol.

This right here is Richelieu letting personal feelings cloud his judgement, thou! Which he said he has learned no to do. But he allows himself to be carried away with visions of becoming Pope and honestly I don’t see how he can possibly believe that could happen with his foreign policy and how hated he is by the Vatican, as stated in this very scene.  

Milady and Ninon! I love that scene! Ninon clearly thinks she’s super special because she “takes the initiative” by kissing men instead of waiting to be kissed. She’s so damn smug about it! And Milady is just like “oh I could never be so bold” and I swear I can hear her laughing internally! 

And she very cleverly charms Fleur’s location out of Ninon!

Athos’s idea of a first date is the morgue. Charming.

Athos saying that Ninon is responsible for what happened to Therese because she gave a lowborn girl an education doesn’t sit well with me. Classist ass! But she is responsible for not thinking of Therese beyond how daring and adventurous and fun and positively scandalous it would be to educate a servant girl and then not bothering to care for her when she got bored. Cause if she had done, Therese could have come to her with her plan and she could have prevented her death. Because yes, regardless of her education, her background predisposed Therese to be naive about the King and Queen and how petitions work. Where was Ninon in all this, when a girl under her charge decided to do this foolish thing that cost her her life? Because if you want to be someone’s teacher you do have a duty of care. In short, Ninon is a classist ass as well! They’re perfect for each other!

So Luca’s stolen bag is in the morgue with the body of the thief who stole it. And Athos promises to send for it in the morning. I know it’s CSI: Musketeers and all, but why was it not delivered to Luca the moment it was found, lol? He’s a pretty important guest at the palace and it’s his property. 

Athos agrees with Ninon that marriage is a curse. LOL!

Ninon’s reason for not marrying is that she does not want a husband to own her wealth and body. Makes sense and that’s why many independently wealthy women chose to stay unmarried. Just pointing out the few things that make sense.

“You are a rebellious woman” - oh good, we managed to squeeze the title of the episode into the dialogue! 

Aramis just tossed a red guard out of Ninon’s house. Can’t tell if he’s dead or not, but certainly unconscious. 

There’s fighting. The red guards have swords, the musketeers have books. Athos screams “where is your authority for this!?!” - well, the Cardinal, I’d assume, since they are his guards. Oh bear of very little brain!

Fleur and some other runaway girls are found sleeping in a secret chamber and Ninon is arrested for abducting them.

Athos is all like “you said she wasn’t here” and Ninon tries to explain that Fleur did not want to be found and begs “make them stop” to which Athos replies “sorry, I can’t”, his voice and face making it very clear that he doesn’t want to. Because a woman lied to him! This is the worst crime! Really Ninon is lucky she’s being arrested right now, otherwise she’d end up swinging from a tree.

“Four young women! In their nightwear! I can only speculate as to the horrors they have endured!” - Richelieu really has a bee in his bonnet about lesbians. The days before p*rnhub must have been hard for a catholic cardinal. 

Luca is even worse thou! “Your majesty is joking but Satan is real! And his female familiars are everywhere amongst us.” Jesus christ guys, calm down! Have a wank or something!

“She had the girls, she lied, she brought her fate on herself.” - Oh shut up Athos! Not everything is about you and your relationship issues! As Aramis points out. Thank you, Aramis! And I never believed I’d ever say that.

Ninon/Aramis  > > > > > > > > > > Ninon/Athos

Aramis gives Ninon the cross Anne gave him. This is quite sweet!

“It’s not so easy when you don’t have money” Constance says and she is right. But it’s like the show is saying that the only way women can be independant is if they are independently wealthy like Ninon. But that’s not really true, Fleur could get a job such as a seamstress or pharmacist or grain merchant or actress or even as a secretary now that she knows latin and greek thanks to Ninon. Women did have jobs in 17th century France and even belonged to guilds etc. Not saying that Fleur would not be more financially secure still with a husband, but if she really doesn’t want that she has options and I don’t like how this supposed “feminist” episode constantly erases women’s actual history. 

Fleur’s father rages “what does she need an education for? She’ll be a seamstress until she’s married and then she’ll be a dutiful wife and mother.” But if he is Bonacieux’s cousin then they are in the same social class, that is to say, the merchant class. And merchant women had to keep their husbands’ shops when their husbands were away. They needed to know how to read and write and do sums. They needed this to be an attractive marriage prospect to a husband of their own social class! 

And the father wants to hit Fleur and D’artagnan all heroically threatens him. How boring!

Richelieu: “Many of our young women are educated. It’s not something we’re ashamed of.” Fleur: “Not just embroidery and sewing.”  Me: “WELL OF COURSE NOT!!!”

Then Fleur says Ninon taught them the “secrets of our bodies” and Richelieu is a hound on the scent!

“Be quiet or you’ll be gagged!” - Again Armand, this is neither the time nor the place to indulge your kinks. 

ENTER MILADY! 

She does such a brilliant job of her testimony! This is again her lying about rape and I talked about before why that is bad, but in this case I don’t mind cause it’s for state reasons and doesn’t in any way invalidate her own story the way the thing with D’artagnan does.

Athos completely LOSES HIS SHIT!! Not doing the defence any good there, buddy!

The look she gives him as she walks out is priceless!

Queen Anne to the rescue, bringing clemency from Louis! Clever girl, must have manipulated it out of him! Season 1 Anne was intelligent.

And Ninon ruins it by saying: “I have never consorted with the devil until this moment. I am looking at him.” To which Richelieu replies: “Condemned from her own mouth.” As any person with half a brain would. Jesus christ Ninon, you should have been gagged! For your own safety! 

And then Richelieu stops breathing! And we get Treville’s reaction to it, thank you camera people! Thou Treville mostly just looks confused, like “what is that drama queen doing now?” 

Now he’s twitching! And I’m sorry but it looks hilarious.

Aramis carries him to bed on his back and puts a hand over his mouth. I’m not sure that helps with the breathing issues... 

Louis pushes Aramis out of the way and cries “please don’t die! please don’t die!” aawwwwwwwwwww!

Aramis really saves his life here, huh.

Anne is briefly jealous about the cross and asks Aramis if Ninon is his lover. Lol! She never expected him to stalk her for the rest of her life, she fully expected him to keep lovers.  

Luca: “Satan turned his blood to acid at her command!” Porthos: “We’ll add Satan to the list of suspects.”

Fleur: “You think I poisoned him?” Constance: “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard even by musketeer standards.” - THANK YOU CONSTANCE!

Fleur is to be married to a 40 year old butcher. Poor girl!

“Was it you?” - LOL!

“Half the doctors say you’re doomed, the other half claim you’ll make a full recovery. There’s a lot of professional pride at stake.” - Milady is very funny too! But I’ve always known that! 

“Whatever happens to me, I want you to extract this confession from Ninon.” - translation: it doesn’t matter if I die, the main thing is that France gets that navy. For France, always. I’m amazed by how much he trusts Milady here thou.

Milady thinks the kneebone of St. Anthony is gross and “as much use as the doctors”. Bless her!

Constance very sweetly talks Fleur’s father out of forcing her to marry. Go Constance!

Ninon: “There is nothing worse than a woman who betrays her own sex” Milady: “I can think of a few things, but let’s not argue.” - THIS!! This is my favorite part of this whole miserable episode, because yes, with her background she can think of things Ninon couldn’t possibly imagine. It’s also a fuck you to that “don’t encourage girl on girl hate” line terfs and white feminists always hide behind when they get called out on their bullshit, though this wasn’t the point here. I love how she doesn’t even explain, too. Let’s not argue, cause what’s the point. You’ll never get it.

I do want to stress that Ninon is not wrong for educating other women and she has been unjustly condemned (althou I would argue that she might not have drawn Richelieu’s ire if she went about it in a more subtle, less smug way, for the safety of the girls she teaches if not for her own). But Milady is employed by the First Minister of France and is doing her job here, a job which she depends upon for her own independence and safety. As she says, Ninon didn’t do anything to her, she’s just a victim of circumstance. 

“If you don’t confess, the women of your salon will burn in your place. Surely you wish to save the lives of your accomplices in Satan?” - Milady does a good job of selling it, but if you think about it, that makes no sense. These women have already been publicly proclaimed Ninon’s victims. And if they have legal trouble with burning her alone, how would they manage a whole bunch of them, most of whom are also high ranking noblewomen?

Ninon falls for it thou. Fail!

Richelieu orders Ninon burned and Milady says that the Queen and King won’t like it. Richelieu replies that: “she’s irrelevant and a new navy will soothe his dismay.” He’s really underestimating season 1 Anne here. But season 2 will prove him right, sadly.

“The kingdom of heaven is a dream. Our only life is here.” - Go Milady!

Richelieu says he won’t burn her for heresy but to be careful cause “one day someone else might” and idk, but it comes across like pretty friendly advice, considering what he’s currently doing with Ninon. 

Now he worries he might go to hell! And Milady says he’s already there, lmaoo! I LOVE THIS SCENE!!

They go to the morgue to retrieve Luca’s bag and discover that the thief was poisoned in the same manner as the Cardinal. Thus the plot is uncovered.

“Open his mouth!” “You open his mouth!”

Luca kills a red guard and is about to kill Richelieu (who fights him with a fork!) when the musketeers burst in. And Richelieu curses them for being late!

Richelieu had apparently worked out that it was Luca who was trying to kill him at some point during the night. No idea how. 

Athos begs for Ninon’s life while the pire is already burning. And Richelieu agrees cause burning her is all very “dark ages”, like he said to begin with. He says he’s not a cruel man, just a practical one. But practicality sometimes requires cruelty. He’s not a sadist thou, that’s what he meant and that’s true. 

Athos drags Ninon off the burning pire. So the great feminist character got duped by Milady and then had to be rescued by her love interest. So good, much feminist. 

“As far as the world is concerned, Comtesse Ninon de Laroque died on that pire today.” Richelieu takes her lands, her property and her money and sends her into exile. Then he threatens to execute her if she ever tells anyone the truth of what happened.

“My voice will never be silenced, but I promise you will never hear it.” - the stupidest line of the whole episode and that’s saying something. Seriously, what does this mean? Your voice was silenced! Richelieu got your wealth which you could have used to educate more women. You were completely defeated. Like really, who is the idiot who wrote this? And what made them think this is in any way empowering or even just a satisfactory conclusion to Ninon’s acr?? Ughhhh!!

I do love Richelieu and Milady getting a rare victory thou! 

“Nothing, no person, no nation, no god will stand in my way.” - HOT!

Aramis gets his cross back lol. Otherwise it would have burned. 

Lmao, Richelieu sends Luca’s ashes to rome with a threat to the Pope.

And Capaldi pronounces “Richelieu” in a very strange way. 

Milady: “You do realise you’ll never be Pope?” Richelieu: “It’s an Italian club and largely a clerical position. I prefer something with a little more influence.” - L! O! L!

Ninon plans to open a school for poor girls and be a teacher. Well, idk, I hope she does a better job of it than she did with Therese.

Athos asks Ninon if “Madame de la Chapelle” ever told her anything about herself. And Ninon is like “so you did know her after all?” and he says “in another life” and she warns him to be careful because she has the cardinal’s protection so “a blow against her is a blow against him” and idk, does she realize that Milady was Athos’s wife here? Is that how I’m supposed to read it? He did tell her before that he used to be married.

Then she kisses him and tells him she could have loved a man like him. And she’s just way more into him than he is into her.

Lmaooo, Fleur is not forced to marry and can continue with her education and she’s “sure” that the woman who convinced her father was Ninon. And Constance doesn’t correct her and doesn’t even want the credit, but I’m mad lol, as if Ninon even remembers you exist Fleur!

D’artagnan gives Constance the credit, at least! And then comes his declaration of love, which is actually very sweet and I really liked them together in season 1! Constance is so beautiful in this scene too! It’s very well lit and she’s wearing that lovely dress!

Aaaaand we fade to black on some PG13 kissing and groping! Sorry, this was very long, but there was a lot to complain about.

In conclusion, awful! Like, the thing that bothers me the most is that this token girl power episode would not even have been radical in 1970, never mind today. The message is simply that women should have an education, which no sane person today would disagree with. It’s very safe and bland. And erases women’s real history in the process. It’s almost as if these male writers are congratulating themselves “weren’t things ever so bad Back Then, we are so much more progressive now”, instead of doing the truly radical thing and showing women’s real history, showing women in positions of power running their literary salons and not getting burned for it, showing women as independent businesswomen with an education! Why not give Bonacieux a female rival in the cloth business? Why not go deeper than “women are human beings” and give the episode a truly radical message that still resonates today. After all, we might be ever so educated now but it’s not like women have achieved equality. More on that in this old post: https://kuningannasansa.tumblr.com/post/126434697304/the-problem-of-ninon 

Anyway, I really hope the next episode will be better! 

Red Guards killed: 1 or 2, impossible to really tell

Ladies killed: Therese

Best Dressed: Ninon. She did have some pretty dresses. 

#the musketeers #bbc musketeers #cardinal richelieu #milady de winter #anti ninon #musketeers rewatch

[earwaxinggibbous]

Top 10 Worst Hit Songs of 2019

So 2019 was kind of a weird year, wasn’t it? Not just for like, life, though it was weird in that aspect, but in music.

I can’t tell if 2019 was an incredibly strong year for music or a weak one. This, to me, is a sign that we’re transitioning into a new era of popular music. The youth are once again taking the reigns of the music scene as did the punks of the 70′s and the grunge kids of the 90′s. Meanwhile, the oldheads flounder for relevance in the face of this new adversity. “Nobody could’ve expected this!”, said no-one ever.

There was a lot of great pop this year, which I will get to, but there was also a lot of bad pop. All of it was either by shitty new artists who have no talent or previous hitmakers swimming around in their own piss. Regardless, it was all interesting to look at. You won’t see any “this entry is short because this song is boring” sections. I also won’t have to rant and rave constantly about the reprehensibility of certain artists, though it will come up. So I guess 2019 was a better year to talk about bad music.

Less do dis.

10. Senorita - Camila Cabello and Shawn Mendes

I can’t explain why I hate Camila Cabello so much. I didn’t even realize I hated her until, like... now.

I thought Havana was okay, and her work with Fifth Harmony was tolerable, but every other single she’s dropped has been fucking excruciating. Bad Things sucked, that one song where she can’t pronounce the word “heroin” properly sucked, and this song sucks.

Much like Selena Gomez above, Camila Cabello is yet another female singer who lacks the ability to display any chemistry with anybody, even her actual real friend Shawn Mendes. As well, like sister Gomez, she fills the chart niche of sexy Latina women for men to drool over. “I love it when you call me senorita” is one of the corniest and stupidest lines ever written. She may as well have said “it gets me hot when you call me Ms. Cabello” because that’s essentially the equivalent. 

There’s nothing sexy about the airy whimpering or the obnoxious “ooh-la-la”s or the way Shawn harmonizes, which implies he also loves it when you call him senorita. Nobody actually bothered to think any part of this song through because nobody ever thinks very hard about writing Camila’s songs. Otherwise Bad Things wouldn’t have accidentally sounded like an abuse anthem when it was supposed to be kinky and sexy. And it’s how creepy lyrics like this got by in Senorita.

If he says you’re just friends then you’re JUST FRIENDS. Did we learn nothing from Ann-Marie and Marshmello last year?

This is just yet another lame, plotless, meandering love/sex song by Camila Cabello who has a good voice, but only ever performs these god-awful sex jams with no sex and no jam. And it’s unfortunate because this is sort of the lot dealt to most Latinx artists. Pop-friendly artists like Camila are divvied up into racial categories without anyone even noticing, and most likely she will only ever write and perform sex jams because that’s what a Latina woman in pop is pushed into. Not that I think she has any problem with it, it’s more indicative of a bigger problem than specifically one with Camila herself.

People have been sexualizing the Latinx community since the dawn of time, and while the new movement of Spanish music might change this, it sure as hell hasn’t started yet.

At least it isn’t seven minutes long like Te Bote.

9. Money in the Grave - Drake and Rick Ross

Drake had 25 hits last year, and only one of them was a song I might say I actually like. I remember I said there’d be no boring songs, but... Drake hasn’t been interesting in a long time. Even when I found out about his secret son, or the fact that he was with a significantly younger woman, I just kinda shrugged and said “oh”. Drake has to be on his way out. How much longer are people going to stand this?

Money in the Grave isn’t as turgid as 2018’s Nonstop, or as audibly inept as the 2017(?)’s Pop Style, but God. At this point, every Drake song sounds the same. The man is incapable of bringing forth any kind of emotions, his beats are pathetic drum loops, nothing he writes has any personality. It’s almost funny how boring his music is.

Rick Ross, if you remember him, was known in his time for writing shouty drug dealer anthems. He yelled a lot, and I was sitting with bated breath waiting for him to fucking 6ix9ine scream over this track, only to be disappointed when he lowered into a calmer register for this tune. Drake even made Rick Ross boring, and Rick Ross is one of the funniest bad rappers I can think of, aside from like, Soulja Boy.

I no longer understand what niche Drake fills. You can’t dance to this, you can’t get high to it, nobody’s gonna think you’re cool if you enjoy it, the lyrics aren’t even passably interesting. It’s the same rap cliches as always, perhaps with a new coat of paint, but said paint is the same color as it already was previously, and makes no change. 

No wonder Drake endorsed Lil Baby. Nobody else can equal his talent at sounding bored.

8. Bad Guy - Billie Eilish

So here’s an unpopular music critic opinion: I don’t like Billie Eilish.

I’ve known of her for a long time, and never once has she drawn my intrigue. I’ve gone all over asking people why they like her, and I’ve heard all sorts of answers. Her voice is good, her lyrics are good, her production is interesting, her subject matter is deep... whatever it actually is, I couldn’t tell you. But in the end, I basically feel the same way about her as I do about Twenty-One Pilots. She’s an artist in an oversaturated micro-genre who, despite being of lower quality than her contemporaries, managed to do something different enough that she rose up in the latter part of the genre’s life. In Billie’s case, it’s the trend of female alt-pop singer-songwriters who write about things like politics, feminism, and ESPECIALLY mental health.

Lorde was the original, but we also have Lana Del Rey, the more pop-friendly Halsey, Marina and the Diamonds, the dreaded Melanie Martinez, to some extent even Alessia Cara, just a whole bunch of them. They all had their own unique personality. Billie Eilish’s personality is that she has none.

Okay, I’m being a little mean. I do think that Billie’s music videos are actually very interesting, but good music videos does not a good musician make. Her voice is more of a phlegmy whisper than people let on, and her lyrics... like, what, what makes them so special? And why didn’t wish you were gay get ANY backlash when it’s basically just a backwards version of Little Big Town’s Girl Crush?

Bad Guy is the worst of her singles without question. Its beat, much like most of her songs, sounds like two people accidentally banged on top of the Cassio and somebody pressed record. Her voice continues to be boring and flat, for some reason she has to whisper everything, and the lyrics are some of the most mind-numbing shit I’ve ever heard. Which moron at corporate told the 17-YEAR-OLD to write a “steal yo man” song where she threatens to seduce my dad? Like, ignoring my own personal history with my dad, you are literally a CHILD.

Generally speaking, the song sounds like someone gargling mouthwash in my ear for a minute or two, but like, very quietly. Which is kind of pathetic for a song called Bad Guy. You sound like a pretty average guy to me.

It’s obvious from the music video that Billie’s main inspiration is grunge, and if that isn’t the case I’ll be surprised. The weird imagery and intentionally dressing like a homeless person to every public thing she does gives off big Nirvana energy. One could argue that Billie Eilish is a good segway into teaching the youthsters about the ghosts of music’s past. There’s just a few problems with that.

One: Bad Guy sounds nothing like a grunge song.

Two: Billie Eilish does not have a grunge voice.

Three: Billie Eilish just... isn’t doing it right.

Billie Eilish’s parents are two wealthy actors and she was basically born with the ability to get into the business easier than other people. I’m not saying that you can’t be a grunge artist if you’re wealthy and have a decent family life, but I am saying that Billie’s music doesn’t convey any kind of grunge appeal. There’s no roughness or rawness to it because she could immediately walk into a producer’s studio with a wad of fifties and ask for a sick beat. Her music displays no emotion, and emotion is the main draw of grunge. Like, Kurt Cobain wasn’t a very good singer, but he knew how to perfectly channel how he was feeling. Grunge music is about feelings, not polish. And Billie Eilish is all polish.

I’m not gonna get all angry because grunge is being gentrified by a tiny girl when it was originally started by broke heroin addicts and lesbians, but I am gonna get angry because her music sounds worse than albums made on a budget of 600 dollars by a guy who has had one voice lesson his whole life.

She should just go into modern art.

7. Worth It - YK Osiris

Originally I was gonna give this spot to a different song. Worth It was so immediately bad that it rescued Lil Baby from my list this year.

Don’t expect to be this lucky next year, bitch.

But we’re not talking about that squealing douchebag, we’re talking about THIS squealing douchebag:

YK Osiris. I have no idea where he came from, I think he was part of last year’s XXL Freshman Class? He’s more of a singer than a rapper, so I’m not sure why he was, other than the predetermined idea that all black artists in pop are rappers. I wouldn’t even call him a singer, because the man cannot sing.

At the beginning of the music video, you see dozens of paparazzi swarming around YK Osiris’ car as he exits with a girl. This is the set-up for the song’s impressive amount of self-fellating narcissism, as YK Osiris assumes he has fans. Who the fuck listens to YK Osiris? I mean, clearly someone, because he charted, but like... what does a YK Osiris fan look like? Do women actually like hearing him wheeze into their ear? Like BEES?

NO MORE BEES!

Hearing this fucking chicken nugget talk about whether or not I’m worth eet is the lamest thing. Why does she have to be worth it? Are YOU worth HER time? Who the fuck are you? The attitude is very, I guess, mid-70′s Paul Anka-esque. And now I’ve made you imagine a YK Osiris cover of You’re Having My Baby. I also remember Todd in the Shadows compared this song to Earned It by The Weeknd, but I dunno if I get that vibe.

I mean, Earned It is a song about like... BDSM sex, presumably. So that’s more of an “if you’re good master will make you squart” kind of thing. This is more some sentient dildo insisting that you prove his worth to him before you’re even DATING. That’s a red flag on the same level as meeting a guy who lives alone and still puts a lock on his fridge. Like, what’s in there? What’s in the fridge? Is it human meat?

The guitar solo in this song is the only thing about it that’s... worth it. ZING!

6. ZEZE - Kodak Black ft.Travis Scott and Offset

ZEZE is a bad song. Plain and simple. It’s the essence of bad.

It feels like... it wasn’t even finished. Like everyone involved came in the next day to finish tweaking it only to find out that it was already sent out to be published and sold. I feel like there are things missing. Like yeah, the steel drums are nice, but where’s the rest of the instrumentation? There’s a drum and a steel drum and then nothing. Why does this song feel so naked?

Kodak Black sure doesn’t help, still sounding like he’s half-man half-screaming rubber chicken and mumbling like an actual infant still figuring out the whole “talking” deal. It’s not like Travis Scott or Offset add anything. I can’t remember what they did. ZEZE sounds the way I imagine taking ketamine and cocaine would feel. This song is so amateurish, I almost have good will for it.

If this was made by, say, a couple of high school kids dinking around with a Garageband, I might find it a little cute. The problem is that this song was made by several Whole Ass Adult People who have enough money to not make shit that sounds like ZEZE. It’s cute until you remember that Travis Scott produced big sexy SICKO MODE and yet somehow his presence couldn’t make ZEZE sound like it was made on a higher budget than 20 bucks. Someone even put an echo on Kodak’s voice, like that’d make him ANY BETTER.

It doesn’t help that I have continuing ill will towards Kodak Black because he’s a sex offender and nobody seems all too pressed about it. (Some rappers even congratulate him for having a rough past, like yeah, I guess some of those serial killers really did deserve better, huh?) I won’t be satisfied until he’s wearing orange pajamas on an island far away, and until then my feelings stand.

As it is, ZEZE is a song so chintzy-sounding and lame that I can’t imagine who would enjoy it. This song has the same energy as one of those hula girls you put on the dashboard of your car: Cheap and ugly.

5. The Git Up - Blanco Brown

Whenever something new is created, there’s always a leech.

I probably don’t need to tell you about the monstrous year Old Town Road had on the pop charts. For weeks and weeks, Lil Nas X was blocking people from his throne at the top of the Billboard Hot 100, bumping off new faces like Billie Eilish and oldheads like Taylor Swift. Old Town Road knew no mercy. This is the year that a gay black kid singing about horses ruled the world.

And Blanco Brown wanted a piece.

Blanco Brown is one of those artists who started out producing and writing for other hitmakers. He worked on some song by 2Chainz, a couple by some woman named Demetria McKinney, he produced that accursed MILF song by Fergie, a lot of relatively famous people. But he looked at Old Town Road and realized that he, being a black man from the lovely state of Georgia, could also do that.

He could not do that.

The Git Up is a husk of a song, only validated by the fact that it achieved what it was aiming for: TikTok memes. It’s as shameless as Watch Me, but doesn’t even have the small sense of excitement Silento gives off. Blanco Brown’s The Git Up and the “challenge” that it’s attached to are pathetic. The only reason Blanco isn’t too ashamed to go outside after writing this is because he knows plenty of people have fallen into his trap, and that they’re bigger fools than he is.

I started off hating Old Town Road, but over time I’ve sort of come to love it. There’s innocence in it. Lil Nas X didn’t mean for it to be a number one hit, it just happened. A lot of artists were trying too hard this past year, and I suspect it’s why Old Town Road made the pop charts its bitch. It didn’t have to try.

A lot of people will point at rock bands for being “fake”. If they draw inspiration from grunge or punk, and they don’t have the proper edge, many will point and laugh. But just because something is fun and hip doesn’t mean it’s easier to make. In fact, I feel it’s a lot easier to tell if someone’s making a shitty pop song for any reason other than themselves. A lot of people thought Lil Peep was faking, and he really, really wasn’t. There’s grey area in topics like depression, but Blanco Brown (and anyone like him) is as transparent as a window. I see through his mock-excitement, his cute little dance challenge, his “innocent” song. We all do.

I believe Tyler Durden put it best:

“Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken.”

4. I Don’t Care - Ed Sheeran ft. Justin Bieber

Speaking of being fake...

I don’t know if Ed Sheeran realizes how embarrassing this song is. More than any other song he’s been involved in. More than Shape Of You, or that one song on Revival, more than anything. I Don’t Care is an exercise in humiliation.

Generally speaking, I don’t like Ed Sheeran’s music. I think he’s had a couple good songs, we all like Sing and Castle on the Hill, it’s not like he’s untalented. But every time he’s gotten a big hit these past few years it’s been so shitty or mediocre that I wanted to scream. I’m not sure why, but all of his fans seem to flock towards his worst songs. And of all of them, I hate I Don’t Care the most.

Usually the problems with Ed Sheeran’s music just revolve around his meek, tiny personality and his weird style of lyricism. The level of detail he gets into can be both an asset and a detriment. I remember I basically described Shape Of You as a virgin anthem, because Ed Sheeran exudes dorkiness. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, and when it comes to nerd music I’d rather take Thomas Dolby, but he definitely had a style.

I Don’t Care is Ed’s Intuition.

As in, the Jewel song. The blown-up pop song released by Jewel, a previously sincere folk singer who played acoustic guitar and sang about break-ups and The Media(TM) and stuff like that. Ed Sheeran is a lot like Jewel, if you think about it. Both of them are skilled lyricists who play acoustic guitar and sing about personal topics, and both of them suddenly decided to throw that away and make a sell-out pop hit. If this kills Ed’s career, they’ll have had basically the same musical trajectory.

Ed Sheeran opens the song by saying he’s at a party he doesn’t wanna be at, and that’s how the song feels. You, the listener, are at a party you don’t wanna be at. What good did adding Justin Bieber to this song do? Oh, right, that’s what made it a hit. I Don’t Care goes far beyond Blanco Brown’s brand of shamelessness. Blanco Brown specifically wanted a dance challenge hit. Ed Sheeran just wanted a hit. Any hit will do. He brought in guaranteed hitmaker Justin Bieber, tossed out his acoustic guitar for fully electronic production, and sang about something vague and already done. And the worst part is that it WORKED.

I imagine this was almost entirely through radio play, because this song is so radio-friendly and milktoast it’s unreal. With a stupid music video greenscreening Ed’s face onto shit and “ooh ooh”s and all, this song exists to pander. It wasn’t created for humans, rather, it was created for the pop music algorithm that’ll shove it into people’s laps without them asking. There’s no artistic integrity, nothing worth thinking about for longer than its runtime. It made it to the Hot 100 because it can be played in grocery stores and clothing stores and really any kind of store. Ed Sheeran is a God of nothing, and I can’t imagine he’s proud.

3. No Guidance - Chris Brown ft. Drake

This song is bad on every possible level. Starting off with the fact that it’s nine minutes long. It out-lengths last year’s overly long garbage fire that was Te Bote. 

And then you look at the credits and know exactly who’s to blame for all this:

I don’t know if Lil Dicky anticipated giving Chris Brown’s career a second wind with Freaky Friday, but I think that’s what he did. I defended Lil Dicky last year, and I’m still not clear on how much he actually wanted to work with Chris Brown since that’s not really the kind of thing famous people are honest about, but this wasn’t Lil Dicky’s hit. This was a springboard to launch Chris Brown back into the limelight. Earth didn’t even chart. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the last gasp of Lil Dicky’s career in the spotlight.

But I’d take Freaky Friday over No Guidance any day.

No Guidance is the formal beef-squash between Chris Brown and Drake. Apparently they both dated Rihanna at some point and allegedly had an actual literal bar fight. Despite Drake claiming he still loves Rihanna, he’s also choosing to publicly make up with and work with the man who got her hospitalized at 19 years old. Then again, Rihanna also wants nothing to do with Drake.

(source)

Over time, Drake has proven himself to be his own flavor of scumbag, a weirdo who dates younger women and pretended not to have a son. Perhaps this is his way of getting back at Rihanna. Or he’s simply using Chris Brown’s new power to bolster his own career. Regardless of why it is, it’s gross, especially when he’s dropping bars like this:

Someone else here is looking a little violent, no?

On pure quality, it sounds like every other Chris Brown song, just with Drake tossed into the mix haphazardly. It’s a lame song about hitting on some girl where both artists drop references to their old songs because that’s the easiest way for a failing artist to feign relevance. Assuming nobody features Chris Brown on another massive hit next year, there’s a fair chance he’s done for, and after years of oversaturation, the public finally tires of Drake. No Guidance is a nothing song with scummy shit going on behind the scenes.

RIP Lil Dicky.

2. 7 Rings - Ariana Grande

I never really understood the hype around Ariana Grande. She has a few songs that I enjoy, and her voice is very good, but nothing by her really stands out to me as an amazing song. Ariana stans are relentless. When I posted my review of the thank u, next album some complete stranger replied to it with “Uhhh ok sis”. Like barring the fact that I’m not a girl and we’re not related... it’s an opinion, calm yourself.

Frankly I don’t know how people enjoyed this song. Her stans are insane, but surely not that insane, right? I mean... this isn’t a song. It’s a MISTAKE.

Between Gwen Stefani and Ariana Grande, sampling The Sound Of Music for your pop song is a dangerous game. And really, she should’ve sampled like, anything else. Because nothing says “wealthy, savage girl” like a cute song about your favorite things, I guess!

I’ve never felt quite so immediately gross and uncomfortable as I did when listening to 7 Rings. I have no problem with women flexing, of course I don’t, but this isn’t flexing, it’s mocking. 7 Rings makes me feel like I’m being bullied.

Ari had a horrible 2018, and she’s more than allowed to flex a little, but I can’t imagine why anyone would want to essentially play the villain of a high school movie. She’s not Cher Horowitz or Regina George, because then at least she’d be entertainingly bitchy. I judge a flex anthem based on how much I get excited for the person being wealthy and cool. This song makes me want to commit a robbery.

The lyrical content isn’t the only bad element. It also sounds like shit! 

Ariana Grande is a belter. Everyone knows she’s here to sing and not... rap. Which is exactly what she does on this song. The filters she puts over her voice during the rapping sections are just... gross. When she drags out certain words it hurts my ears. That and apparently multiple people have accused her of stealing their flows, though that’s really hard to say since it’s an incredibly generic rap flow. Also, she samples Gimme The Loot by Biggie Smalls, a song about robbing people. Which makes sense because if you bought Ariana’s album, you were robbed! Congrats!

But in the end, the most damning thing about this song is its lyrics. Why should I be excited about this absolute bitch having tons of money? Why should I care when she has the gall to say shit like this?

There were ten writers on this song and nobody thought of saying “hey, maybe the phrase ‘happiness is the same price as red-bottoms’ is a little fucking shallow!” 

And I’m not making any judgments on Ariana’s character in real life. I’m sure she’s a perfectly nice person, but if this song was supposed to project some sense of camaraderie and a “we did it!” attitude, it fails. What it does project is a snide, rich girl looking down on you for not just buying yourself out of depression. Never write a song like this again.

Honorable Mentions

Happier - Marshmello and Bastille

I’m not gonna be the first to say every Marshmello beat sounds exactly the same, but every Marshmello beat sounds the same. I picked this one because it charted highest, but really it makes no difference which Marshmello song I pick on.

Sweet But Psycho - Ava Max

This song reads like a 12-year-old’s deviantART journal.

Drip Too Hard - Lil Baby and Gunna

Like I said, this song almost got on the list proper. It’s a slow burn. At first you feel like the beat is solid, and Lil Baby rides it decently enough, but then it keeps going and the flows never switch and Gunna basically sounds the same as Lil Baby and you begin feeling like you’re losing your mind.

Thotiana - Blueface

People kept memeing about this. I thought it’d be fun. I hate you guys.

God’s Country - Blake Shelton

Namedropping The Devil Went Down To Georgia does not make you Primus. Because you are not creative or interesting.

Trampoline - Shaed

I wouldn’t have even given this song a second thought except apparently it’s hit the alt-rock charts? Where is this rock? Like I get we’re pushing the boundaries of genre but I think the bare minimum of a rock song would be a GUITAR.

Knockin’ Boots - Luke Bryan

This song is dumb. But I’m oddly amused by how dumb it is, so it may live.

Baby - Lil Baby and DaBaby

Sometimes things sound like a good idea, and then they’re not. This didn’t even sound like a good idea and it proved to be an even worse idea. Something definitely could’ve been done with this, but Lil Baby is essentially a creative void that consumes all it sees.

Someone You Loved - Lewis Capaldi

Another song that’s too dumb for me to really get mad at. God knows, Capaldi is putting a hell of a lot of effort into something. What it is, I’m not sure, but he’s doing his best.

With those out of the way, we move onto

Number One:

You Need To Calm Down - Taylor Swift

"I AM LAID LOW BY THE HUMAN RACE. ME, AN INNOCENT WOMAN, MUST DEAL WITH ‘HATERS’ EVERY SINGLE DAY. MY HEART HAS BECOME WEAK WITH ALL OF THE UNKIND WORDS. DARE I SAY... I AM OPPRESSED?”

It’s ironic hearing Taylor Swift tell me to calm down. She hasn’t been calm for a long time. She sure as hell isn’t calm in this song. It’s basically the equivalent of someone screaming “I AM NOT ANGRY!”

Like, you’re... still mad about the snake thing? It’s been a few years now and you’re still bothered enough by an emoji that you referenced it in a song about how not-bothered you are? I mean, apparently this song (as well as ME!) is about celebrating individuality. It definitely is celebrating an individual: Taylor Swift.

I think a big theme of this year was “embarrassing”. The Git Up was embarrassing, I Don’t Care was embarrassing, but none of them are more embarrassing than this. You could probably do a list of the ten worst Taylor Swift lyrics and it’d be mostly this song. And if the lyrics aren’t terrible enough, it also blatantly copies the beat from Sunflower, the second-biggest hit of the year and a personal favorite. Like, a fellow critic remixed them together and the backing track is essentially unchanged.

And then we get to the gay stuff.

I’m not the first to point out that the underlying message of this song is pathetic at best and offensive at worst: “I have haters, and gays have haters, so we’re basically the same.” This is essentially Taylor Swift hoping she’ll get an invite to judge on RuPaul’s Drag Race.

There’s just kind of an eensy weensy problem.

Gay “haters” are like... ACTUALLY DANGEROUS.

They’re not just the goofy, protest-sign waving boomers she depicts in her music video. An internet comment is harmless. Homophobia isn’t. Homophobia leads to suicide, gets teens kicked out of their homes, causes hate crimes, it can cause incredibly serious harm. Someone sending you a fucking snake emoji isn’t the same as years and years of systematic oppression!

Does Taylor Swift have to worry about her safety when she tours in more conservative areas? Does she have to fear the possibility of losing friends and family ties when opening up about herself? Does she have to worry about letting the public see who she dates, beyond the usual celebrity drama? Do people shout slurs at her on the street? Do churches and politicians campaign against her right to marry?

Of course not.

Taylor Swift has always made everything about herself. She’s lied and been petty for years and years in her music. Imagine lying about KANYE. You don’t need to lie about fucking Kanye to make him look bad! He does it himself! She was the victim that time, and every time. But at no point until now did she stoop low enough to openly compare herself to oppressed groups because people are mean to her on the internet.

Like this isn’t even about articles or tabloids or anything, it’s about people being nasty online. The phrase “shade never made anybody less gay” is basically a crackhead way of diminishing our suffering. It’s not “shade” we’re worried about, Taylor, it’s having our fucking legal rights taken away. Your biggest worry is “haters”. Haters aren’t going to ban you from being married.

This song is phony, it’s a rip-off of a much better song that literally came out in the same year, it’s repetitive, it’s petty, and most of all, it tries to diminish the oppression of the LGBT+ community by boiling down all of our pain and suffering to simple “shade”.

I will not calm down.

Woo-ee. That was something alright. We’ll be moving onto the best list soon, if I don’t get caught up in my other quarantine activities.

#panda posts #top 10 list #worst hits of 2019 #top 10 worst hits of 2019 #worst hits #pop song review #pop music #music criticism #music review

[amnachil]

The College Society Chapter 3 Part 3

4 days late is better than a week so be happy :)

I should be posting the next part of TP tomorow but you know me, I never do what I say :p

Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey Saturday January 26

It had been the worst three days of Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey's life. Maybe not exactly, but among the worst. On wednesday, he had tried to speak with Liam, but the freshman had avoided him, of course. Zack had told him to play it cool. To stay quiet a bit, and then talk with his "boyfriend". To stay quiet. Me. Stay quiet and wait ? What more ? Make the puppy ? And talk to him ? He meant apologise right ? Zack wants me to apologise. Me. Everything had happened because Amber and Theo had tricked him. She had got her hands on four tickets. She had gone on her own at the festival, and then she had waited the perfect moment. I can't express how mad I am. I can't say enough curse to calm down. After this horrible humilition, he had headed straight back home. He had wanked several times. Until he had felt pain and tiredness. And since then, he had met some old friends, some old and smart hunters. And he had banged them all. Some old preys too. He had been having sex, sex and more sex, but he still felt frustrated. He pictured Liam's smile. His soft voice. His cute booty. Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey was a predator. The best of his kind. He had chased hundreds of people. Gay, hetero, even alleged lesbian. He had always succeeded. His thought went to Liam again. This lad had a lovable expression. When they ate together, he was so genuinely happy. Zack wants me to apologise. Fuck Theophile and Amber. And all those assholes who had bet against him. He was ruling the university for god's sake ! And Zack wants me to apologise. Fine. For the first and only time of his life, Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey would beg forgiveness.

The lad headed towards Pasta's Place, where Liam was working this night, when he bumped into Theophile. This... Man I don't know. Fuckin' shitty greedy idiotic douchebag ? Nah. Bally foolish bitchy rotten bastard, it's better.

"Hi Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey. Going somewhere ?"

"Go back in the bloody pussy you came from nasty stupid bitch. I'm busy."

"Sounds like you're a bit more vulgar than usual. Are you scared to lose ?"

The blond lad did his best to stay calm. At least to not be even angrier than he already was.

"You're sure talking a lot moronic asshole." he grumbled aggressively. "Still, you didn't catch the prey either. Maybe it's too much for your prick to handle ? Go back to these fatty shit of yours, idiot."

"I never realised how many curse words you were able to use in only one sentence." applauded Theo with a laugh. "It make me horny. Look, let's make a little deal. You let me Liam. And you let me bang you from time to time because I reckon, you're the best lay around. Oh, and you put on some pounds, because I like you more with a belly. In exchange, you can keep your 1000$."

"Here is my counterproposal. I take Liam. I put my dick in your ass or mouth or any hole you have when I want to. I keep my money. And you go fuck yourself somewhere I can't see you. It's the last warning, don't play with me."

"For now, I'm winning. So be it."

When Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey arrived at Pasta's Place, he was barely calmed down. Judy glimpsed him first. At start, she wanted to make him clear off, but when she saw his eyes, she just led him to Liam. Apparently, this one just finished his shift and was about to left. When they glanced at each other, the Dean's grandson didn't know what to say. He wasn't good to make apologies. He didn't even know how to apologise in the first place. And this baboon was just standing there, looking at him. Damnit Zack, I hate you. Why did you convince me to do this ?

"Listen to me Liam. I'll not say this twice. I'm..."

Damnit, it was harder than he tought. The chestnut lad openned his eyes wide.

"Are you gonna..."

"Shut up, don't make it even more difficult." interupted Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey. "All I want to say is I'm..."

I can't. I can't do this, it's so humiliating. It was Amber and Theo who should be apologising. Not him. Liam slowly took his hands. He had a wonderful face. And damnit, his touch was so soft.

"You're what Dami ?"

It's not my fuckin' name. Please stop it. Stop with this cute nickname.

"I'm sorry." he finally spilt.

And a moment of silent. Say something.

"You're blushing." whispered Liam. "You're cute."

Don't say anything more. Don't. The freshman himself was as red as a tomato. This whole situation was the weirdest Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey ever lived. Even when he had had sex in a field, on the back of a cow, it had been less embarrassing. (Not with the cow, of course, just on her).

"We never really said we were dating or anything." admitted Liam. "I guess you have the right to see other people ?"

"You mean I can't if we are a couple ?"

It's mortifying. How could he survive like this ? As far as he could remember, he had always be with several people at the same time.

"I don't want to force you to do something you won't like." whispered Liam. "Listen Dami, I think you're very nice. Maybe you don't know this, but in a way, you helped me when my world was falling apart. Deliberately or not, you made my life better, and I thank you for this. To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure to understand what you see in me but... I'm okay, and I want to be your boyfriend. And I'm ready to let you have sex with other people like you're used too."

"Wait. How would you know I..."

"You've quite a reputation, but it's Theo who told me. But whatever, I don't mind this as long as your respect some conditions. Please ?"

Conditions. Is this baboon putting conditions at me ? Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey shook his head. What the hell was going on ? Why he felt so shy all of sudden ? Why I'm listening to him ? I should be leading the conversation.

"Which ones ?" he simply asked, much for his own displeasure.

"First, when I call you, you come, whoever you're having sex with. I'm number one for everything. Maybe it'll just be for a cuddle, or to see a movie, but I'm your priority." commanded Liam. "Second, you don't fall in love with any of them. Just sex, nothing more. I don't want you do be sentimentally involved with anyone but me..."

I'm not even loving you. You're just a prey. So why the hell I'm blushing everytime you open your fuckin' mouth ? Why ?

"Okay." the Dean's grandson agreed. "It works for me."

"Third, don't sleep with my relatives. Not my roommate, not my friends nor people I used to know in my past... It would be awkward. And four, you call me. I'm your boyfriend so if you need help with something, I'll be there. If you're sad, happy or angry, I wanna know."

Damnit. That's not what I planned at all. Things were getting out of hand. Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey tried his best to rationalize. To be his former self. But he just felt butterflies in his belly.

"And I've one last request. It's very important to me."

"Whatever it is, I'm fine with it." quickly promised the lad.

No ! What did I just say ?! What's wrong with my body ? With my brain ? I'm broken ! Someone needs to help me, I'm fuckin' broken !

"All the pastries and the plates you're making ? All for me. No sharing. I want them all."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Sure. All my cooking is for you."

And then they kissed.

Liam Sunday January 27 – Monday January 28

My mother was right, with each piece of good news come a piece of bad news. Yesterday, Dami had agreed to be his boyfriend. (They still had some stuff to work on, like how to be faithful). (He had what ? Two or three lovers, no more right ?). But Liam wanted to be comprehensive and to respect Dami. If his new boyfriend needed to have sex to feel happy, Liam didn't want to stop him. As soon as I will be ready, I'll have sex with him too... But the chesnut lad wasn't feeling confident enough for that. I don't even know what exactly we are doing. Anyway, this late morning, when Liam woke up, he discovered Theo. He first thought the dark-haired junior had crept into their flat in order to devour Nick. He was ready to hit him with a baguette when his roommate said they had sex. Sex. Liam didn't even know Nick was interested in men... The ogre is having sex with his preys. It was bad, really bad. Liam understood the long-run plan of the monster : he intented to make Nick addicted to him. But can I do something ? I don't know what...

"You look worried." smiled Theo. "Have you some problems I can help with ?"

At this point, Liam wanted to hid under his bed with the unicorns. (They were friends. They would protect him). But he couldn't let Nick alone in this dangerous situation.

"By the way, I heard your father sued your mother." continued the ogre. "I think I can help you with that, since we all are friend here."

What ? Now it was sure. Theo was sent by the forces of evil to harm them. Liam had to find a way out !

"My father is your dad's lawyer. I'm surprised you never realised it. Anyway, I think we can talk to him. Maybe find an arrangement ?"

"Liam dude, it would be nice." added Nick.

"I have one question." interrupted Liam. "It's unrelated to the topic but... Ain't you bothered by cheating on Laura ? Does she know what you're doing ? And you Nick ?"

"We have an agreement." explained Theo. "I'm free to have sex with cute and sweet men like Nick, she's okay with that. I can sleep with you too if you want."

Oh. That's straight. Liam didn't want to sleep with an ogre. And he already have a boyfriend. Not the most faithful in the world but... he was cooking very well at least.

"You should try." excitedly said Nick. "Theo is like... very good ! Trust me, you'll quickly understand why I did that !"

"Uh well... I'm not interested." Liam diplomatically said. "But I'm okay to meet your father and negociate."

The whole conversation felt surreal. I didn't know Nick was interested in men. Or that Laura was aware... This is sooo weird. (Weirder than believing in unicorns, yes).

"Nice, let's say next saturday ?" suggested Theo. "I know the trial is in early february."

"Okay..."

Liam still needed help to save Nick. But he had had an illumination. His boyfriend was someone important after all, maybe he could help. (The chestnut lad had heard something about the Dean, but still couldn't remember what).

The young freshman went to work at 4pm. Judy welcomed him with a concerned look. Exactly like the last time they had talked about the forces of evil. While he got ready, she mumbled :

"Big guy, there's something you need to know."

"What's the matter ?"

He was captivated by his suit. The waiters here had cool suit, nice and warm. He tried once to steal one, but she had stopped him.

"I saw you kiss Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey yesterday. And I don't think it's a good idea." she said. "I know you're a grown-up man, and it's your call but... Do you know how awful he can be ? I think you're only another prey for his tally to be honest."

Liam had already thought about this. And he asked Nate's advice. After all, if Dami was actually sleeping with two or three other person at the moment, he probably had also a lot of ex. (And the freshman was known to be naive so maybe his boyfriend played him). (But he was trusting Dami, he felt it was the right thing to do).

"Thank you Judy but... I don't know. I think I can trust him. He's sweet with me. I've a gut feeling about this. And I appreciate him."

"You sure ? I thought this at first too. Then he ditched me."

It took Liam a moment to undestand. So... they used to be a thing. Okay. Now he was wondering, who had slept with Dami ? Stop it Liam. Stop it now. As Nate said, he shouldn't think about his boyfriend's past. After all, he didn't want his own past to resurface.

"I'm sorry to hear that Judy, because you're a nice girl." he assured. "But I still think it's different. Maybe I'm a fool, and maybe I'm really stupid, but I want to try."

The next morning in class, the professor of macroeconomics gave them an important information. They would make a journey in France. It would take place during the winter holidays. It was unusual for first year students, but the Dean and the administration decided to chose the thirty best students in economics, and give them this opportunity. It appeared Nick was the major of their promotion, so he would be part of it. Rebecca, Barbara and Colton aswell. But Liam never expected to heard his name. Apparently, he was among the best ? I can't believe it. For real ? He felt really happy about it. (In case some people wonder : Liam was bright. With focus, he could probably be a very good student). (But the chestnut lad wasn't thinking about it at all). Some of his friends weren't really pleased with the group, but he was. Plus, the professor anounced they would select some junior and sophomore to come with them. All I need to do is convince Dami to come. Easy-peasy.

Barbara Wednesday January 30

At first, she had thought it would a piece of cake. All she had to do was convince a professor to support her more than Summer. But Ms. Weber wasn't cooperative at all. It was already hard to find the hunters among thousands of students and staff in the university. Barbara discovered some names thanks to Javier, but not enough. And now, one of them, Linda wouldn't help her.

"Look, I'm not sayin' I won't be in your side at the end." she explained. "But for now, I'm trusting Summer. The girl's good. She knows what she has to do to maintain order."

"But isn't she a kind of rival ?" asked Barbara. "For the hunt I mean."

"That's right, we're looking for the same kind of prey. But there are plenty of young male around here. I don't have any gripe against her honestly. Prove you're better or worthier and I'll support you."

I already am... The short blonde just smiled. Obviously, the hunters weren't glad to see her. According to Javier, it took time to build a name in their society.

"Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey himself was my very first support." she reminded. "Does this count for nothing to you ?"

"It depend. Did you ever sleep with the man ?"

"No."

"Well, it's normally easy to turn him on. The man only love his prick you know ? If he hadn't sleep with you, it means he doesn't have much interest for you. And Summer knows how to talk with him. She's the head of student for the second year in a row, it mean something."

"Yeah, I understood this. Thanks you Ms. Webers. See you soon."

Damned. Such a waste of time. It wasn't the firt person she tried to convince. But the hunters were all supporting her opponent. Summer was useless and definitely not smart, but she had numerous great allies. I need to make a move to impress them. An important move. She was heading towards the library when a dark-haired lad approached her. He was tall and ripped, pretty imposing.

"Hey there." he greeted. "I'm Theo Meyers, nice to you meet you."

She knew him. Javier had said he had challenged Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey for his title of best hunter. And whoever is the best hunter is likely able to be the king.

"I heard you were trying to take Summer's position ?" he asked. "I guess you need a little help to make all these hunters work with you ? I mean, powerful people don't really like rookies. Are you a rookie ?"

Barbara smiled prudently. She had already met people like him. Psychopaths.

"I'm not." she replied. "And I'll figure out something."

"Why not beat the most famous and feared hunter ? You could win some respect that way."

Now it became interesting. But she had to be cautious. Obviously, Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey had a lot of ressources. And he didn't seem to have a weakness.

"You've only one thing to do for me, and it's a win." explained Theo. "Distract him on saturday. I'm gonna win the bet this day. Can you do that ?"

"Yes."

She already had the start of a plan.

To be continued

Quite an important part becaure YAY They are finally together !!!! It’s not like... the perfect couple yet, but here they are. Liam is a very eager feedee, he wants the cook to feed him and only him ;) But they’ve still many problems to solve and many hardship to face. The happy end is far away, count on me for that.

And speaking of problems, Barbara and Theo made a deal. Which is not good news...

#the college society #cs #Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey #Liam #Barbara #relationship goals #an ogre is fattening people in this college #and he's evil #Damian is a mess #Damian is very bad at feelings #Liam's surprisingly mature #Chapter 3 #Part 3

[stardust-era]

Somebody's Supposed to Fall in Love (A Collection of Miraculous Ladybug One-Shots)

Title: Chapter 1: The New National Anthem

Word Count: 1139

AO3

Luka wasn’t bitter per se, he was more annoyed. He really liked Marinette and he was willing to fight for her, but not at her expense. At the moment, she was crushing on Mr. Pale, Stupid and Rich. He could see the appeal, who isn’t going to like someone like Adrien Agreste, but he so obviously played for the other team. He was just giving her space, but that didn’t mean that he still didn’t wish she was here with him right now. He loved seeing her cute smiling face, blushing up a storm.

He sat, meditating on his bed, waiting for someone to come and get him for rehearsal. Kitty Section was getting ready for another gig, and surprisingly enough Gabriel Agreste was going to let his only son come out to play. The kid wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, but he sure was charismatic, and stupidly good looking. He couldn’t lose his cool when he knew someone was going to come and get him soon, but he was frustrated in himself since his attraction for Adrien was at the front of his mind. He wondered if Marinette felt the same way about the both of them.

Distracted from his thoughts, Juleka managed to sneak up on him, throw a pillow at his face and run back upstairs. He was going to get her back, later, but now he had to go and be the leader of their band. He nodded his greetings to Ivan and Rose, but narrowed his eyes at the Agreste boy before picking up his guitar. His sexual frustration was turning to aggression, but the kid could deal. He remained as cool as he could throughout rehearsals, ignoring the glares he was getting from Juleka and Rose, and the confused stares from Adrien and Ivan at his sudden mood shift.

Rehearsal came and went, and as soon as it was done, Luka grabbed his things and beelined towards his bedroom, not before someone grabbed him by the arm to hold him back. His eyes shot daggers at the offending arm, his equally steely mood directed at the person who the hand belonged to.

“O-oh s-sorry,” Adrien stuttered and removed his hand from Luka’s arm, slowly taking a few steps back from the seething musician. “I-i just wanted to talk before I have to go.”

The taller boy looked over the blonde’s shoulder to see his sister and her girlfriend silently encouraging him to speak to the boy. It’s not like it was Adrien’s fault that Marinette was crushing on him, and there was no reason he should be mad at him. His shoulders slumped and he nodded, leading them both to his bedroom.

“Why did you reject Marinette?” Adrien asked him as soon as the door was shut.

Luka turned so fast, spots danced behind his eyes. “I’m sorry,” his words coming out harsher than he intended them to, “can you repeat what you just said?”

Adrien had more self-preservation than actually repeat his words back to the older boy, he shrunk in on himself and attempted to explain himself, “She was a little upset after the skating rink. I just assumed you had rejected her.”

Luka calmed down a bit. He was right about him, this boy was an absolute dolt! “How can I reject her when she won’t even give me a chance?”

“B-but I thought she liked you.” The blonde exclaimed incredulously.

“Maybe if a cute little twink, who has no business being the arm candy of Paris’ most eligible lesbian stopped parading himself around and actually came out, some of us could actually have a shot at making her happy.”

“You think I’m cute?” That’s not where Luka was going with that. He wanted to yell and scream and curse at the boy, but he was an idiot! He couldn’t believe Marinette liked this.

“Focus, Adrien!” He chided, “You need to come out already so Mari could move on.”

“Wait,” Adrien was so confused. “What does any of this have to do with me?”

Luka was astonished, he took a few steps back and plopped down on his bed, “I don’t know whether to kiss you or punch you.”

Adrien just watched the blue boy unsure of what to say, “When you say come out, do you mean in a gay way?” He finally asked after a beat.

“Get out,” Luka told him. “Please get out before I do something I regret.”

The blonde took a step closer to Luka instead, “But we’re not finished talking.”

“Talking to you is like talking to a brick wall!” Luka growled out and stood up from his bed. He turned Adrien around and pushed him towards the door, “I’m done talking to someone that has nothing between his ears. Maybe your classmates and the rest of your fans could look past how fucking stupid you are, but I sure am not turning a blind eye to that. Go tell Marinette you’re not interested.”

“I’m not gay!” Adrien returned the growl but stood his ground. “I can’t love Marinette because I love Ladybug!”

That did it for Luka. Sure, Marinette had never explicitly told him she was Ladybug, but it was obvious to anyone that had eyes that they were the same person. He didn’t have to be in love with her to see they had the same gorgeous, bluebell eyes. And here was this moron saying he only liked her in a spandex suit. Without really thinking about it, Luka pushed the blonde into the wall.

“Listen here and listen well because I’m only going to say this once. You can’t love anyone because you don’t know what love is. Now get out!”

Adrien was freaked out enough by the act of violence, but that wasn’t going to deter him. He faced enough villains as Chat Noir to be afraid of someone who was trying to intimidate him. He brushed off the attack, wincing a little at the pain he felt and squared up. “You’re not going to insinuate things about me, insult me and then attack me without letting me get a word in edgewise.”

Luka was breathing heavy, his cool was completely lost as his hands balled up into fists, “You’ve said enough, Agreste. You only want Marinette when she’s swinging around Paris in a skin tight suit, you sicko. You’re worse than the furry in a leather suit she calls a partner!”

Adrien finally paused. If what Luka was insinuating was true, then Marinette was Ladybug. That’s not what caused him to turn away, no. What caused him to finally leave was the realization that he was right. Ladybug never trusted him the same way he trusted her. He couldn’t believe she had finally chosen to reveal her identity. He couldn't believe that it wasn't to him!

#luka couffaine #lukanette #miraculous ladybug #ladybug #ml ladybug #viperion #vipebug #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #juleka couffaine #rose lavillant

[leavngsoon]

back on a personal tumblr for the first time in years. I just need a place to ramble.

I suspected for months, even weeks before I broke up with him, that my ex had gotten one of his (girl, duh) friends pregnant while he was with me. But tonight I got official confirmation in the form of social media posts of them popping a gender reveal balloon at the restaurant I use to work at with them. And even though I knew it for months now --like a good six months now --I’m fucking livid.

It feels so weird to even call him my ex. We’d only gone out for maybe four months total, and my final decision to break up with him was because it had been a whopping two months since we’d seen each other outside of work. he kept claiming that he’d make it up to me and so on, but he was routinely rain checking plans at the last minute with no reason, some of which were plans he had made with me just that morning. and half the time he’d end up hanging out at work with some friends during the time it was suppose to be our one on one time. 

He was my first boyfriend, though? I was super late to the romance game, I had my first kiss at nineteen for fucks sake. And the next day I had sex with that same guy in the passenger seat of my car in a ghetto parking lot while he was on the phone with his girlfriend for half of it. Wonderful “loosing the V-card” story, isn’t it? He made it clear that even though he intended to (and did) break up with her that he would never be my boyfriend and never be serous about me. Yet when I kissed a girl at a Halloween party a few weeks later, I had to “make it up to him” in the form of sex so violent, I had a busted eye in all my family photos for the next month. Next guy I was “with” had a girlfriend, again, that he claimed to be miserable with and talk all kinds of promises to me until, despite the fact that I knew she was cheating on him, she freaked out when she thought he liked me and forced them to move to another city. Then again, another guy in weird baby momma drama, not together though they live together, who was nearly fifteen years older than I was somehow convinced me to drunkenly suck his dick in a parking lot after weeks of flirting. Though, I was not suppose to tell anyone about it and keep it a secret. Even a year later he tried to tell me he was “still a little in love with me” and ask for money. Which I gave him. Because I’m a fucking moron. Then there was the hookup while I was doing seasonal work last summer. I was so drunk I didn’t know why he was in bed when I woke up and freaked out. He was technically my boss and ten years older than me, and getting in weird drama with another guy friend who had a crush on me, so my only real way to push them away was to literally shave my head, start binding my chest, and tell everyone in town I was a lesbian now. Wish I had stuck to that story and then I wouldn’t have ended up in an actual relationship turned pissed off tumblr post that I’m dealing with now because I don’t know how to put my feelings into concise words.

I told him before we ever got together that if he didn’t want to be in a relationship with me that, that was fine. I was more than okay to be casual, that’s all I had ever done before. He insisted on being in a relationship and telling everyone I was his girlfriend. Timeline wise, within the next month he had gotten this other girl pregnant, God only knows when they actually started sleeping together.

I told him multiple times that he was my first boyfriend and that I had never had a boyfriend before because the other guys I was with weren’t genuinely interested in me and none of the boys I liked liked me back. He said that it wasn’t gonna be that way, he said repeatedly-- even two-three months into our relationship, when I started to suspect she was pregnant --that he knew he was gonna be with me for a while, that he wanted to meet my family, that I was a big part of his life, ect. Even AFTER she was pregnant, he was saying this to me? 

Yet, in the span of three weeks he canceled or no call, no showed plans with me SIX times. Him and this other girl were friends, they were friends before I even liked him, and they had no reason to not be together. When we started dating, she was actively perusing another boy at the restaurant! They were both telling everyone that they were like family and just friends and that they weren’t interested in one another and I even defended them being “just friends”, too, like a fucking idiot. She would repeatedly be the one to drive him home at the end of the night or crash at his house if she got out late because he lived closer and I thought fucking nothing of it when we were first dating. I just accepted it.

I went on vacation about two weeks after we started dating --a long, also two week long vacation --and when I came back he told me he loved me? Like, trust me, I was blown away and knew he was just saying shit but what the fuck was the point of saying that when, while I was gone, you were fucking another girl? We face timed while I was on vacation and she would be in the chats with you --were you talking to me before or after you were fucking her? Did you fucking get off on it?

I’m so fucking sick and tired of myself just accepting this bullshit from guys. Even when I broke up with him, it wasn’t even a real break up. I texted him that I wanted the throw blankets that I left at his house and that I could come by and pick them up. Low and behold, he decides to come by my place instead --in her car --and acts like it’s weird that he’s giving me my stuff back. He even commented a heart on one of my instagram photos not even five weeks ago. Like, bro, you got another girl --a girl I fully trusted you to be with --pregnant when we first started dating after I told you I was fine being casual. Fuck you.

Why do I have to be the one who feels like a fucking loser in this situation? One after another every guy who I’m intimate or romantic with is fucking lying to me and using me for one reason or another. I’m the common denominator in all of this. Every single one of these fuckers was over the age of twenty-five with no car or a bed --they either had just a mattress or just a bed frame or they had someone else in their bed or whatever. I’ve had sex, I don’t even know how many times, and I’ve never had sex in a real bed. How fucking lame is that? God, I’m such a fucking unlovable loser.

#ramblings

[faunusrights]

OFFAL HUNT REMASTER LIVEBLOG // CHAPTER 9

oh goody!

well this is it. the Date Chapter. the chapter, in which, the Date happens. lowkey im so fucking hype for this stupid goddamn chapter AAAAAAAAAAAA this is when the sexy got kicked up about seven notches and i know its gonna be a fucking twenty from here on out so LETS GO LESBIANS LETS GO

“Is this your date, Ms. Fall?” he asked.

Cinder didn’t look away from Glynda. “Mhm.”

STRAIGHT OUT OF THE GODDAMN GATE WE DIDN’T EVEN HAVE A SECOND TO EVEN GATHER OURSELVES JUST STRAIGHT UP HUH!!!!!!!!! ‘is this your date’ im legally dead

What the fuck.

already im fucking THRIVING im so glad this chapter’s mood got encapsulated within the first ten seconds and im definitely gonna have to re-read this chapter for the full unannotated experience OOOOOOOOOH MY GOD IM SO READY

Glynda’s thoughts ricocheted inside her head like coins left in a dryer. A part of her couldn’t understand what was happening and disengaged. The rest of her, grasping for purchase in all this, reasoned that going with Cinder was better than staying here confused, alone, and utterly displaced.

glynda ‘i aint ever had a gf before’ goodwitch at her PEAK right here. like GOD shes gone from ‘cinder’s trying to murder me’ to ‘cinder just plopped me right into a date’ like CINDER. CINDER YR CHANGING GEARS SO FAST. YOU DIDNT EVEN SEND FLOWERS OR ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

is it because shes a u-haul lesbian or

Higher, Glynda realized the dress itself was backless, revealing the black tattoo she’d seen so often before, perfectly centered between sharp shoulder blades.

this gay energy is BONKERS, quite frankly??????? where did cinder get her dress from? why does she have it? did she buy it just for this fuckery? or will she pull the ‘i just had a this lil number laying around’ line????????? does she wanna seduce glynda to death?????? was this PLANNED OR DID SHE JUST DECIDE SHE WANTED A DATE AND WTH LIFE REALLY IS SHORT ON REMNANT THESE DAYS?????????? cinder fall please explain your workings to the class

maybe Glynda wasn’t the only one who’d become adept at reading her opponent.

👏 when 👏 will 👏 they 👏 kiss 👏 already 👏👏👏👏

me: this is a slowburn also me: if u assholes dont give me this in the next ten seconds-

“Unarmed? As if you could be so helpless.”

cinder’s style of flirting is just. commentating on a person’s deadliness. that’s IT it’s the only TRICK SHE HAS and its working, is the thing,

im reading the description of the table and remembering the shitpost and oh my god i have to draw this???? hell IS real!!!!!! COULDNT YALL JUST TOSS EM IN A PLAIN BOX,

Cinder eyed her from her bastion of dark cushions,

cinder, ass-deep in cushions: this is peak cuddle territory come and join me

Cinder, for her part, seemed delighted Glynda had noticed. Touching the pendant more gently than Glynda might have ever thought her capable of, Cinder said,  “Yours? You didn’t seem to mind parting with it.”

im still deeply enjoying this powermove the novelty NEVER wears off (and at risk of light spoilers i do enjoy its place in this story 👀)

Cinder let the necklace drop, settling against the swell of her bust once more,

/lightly coughs 👀👀👀

im losing my MIND at how gay this bit is i physically cannot HANDLE IT and if they even describe the meal once im gonna pop off cause i am. SO HUNGRY RN. AAAAAAAAAAAA

Cinder indicated a dish of lamb and vegetables, served on a bed of rice and drizzled in some sort of sauce.

SRY THIS ISNT GAY BUT OH MY GOD IM SO HUNGRY I WANNA E A T I T THAT SOUNDS SO GOOD UGHGHGHGHGHGH WHY DID THIS CHAPTER HAVE TO BE TODAY OF ALL THE DAYS,

Glynda cleared her throat, working out: “The Grimm.”

like. GOD WE KNOW GLYNDA IS JUST SO FUNCTIONALLY BAD AT CONVERSATION BUT OF ALL THE THINGS glynda please just. just. stop thinking abt her sexy tattoos for a fifth of a second,

“You can control them.” A sedate blink. For all the world, Glynda might have just commented on the weather.

which is a faux pas for a date!!!!!!!!!!! at least tell her the DRESS IS SEXY WE ALL KNO WHATS WHAT YR THINKIN ABT

Glancing down as though it were being pointed out to her for the first time, Cinder shrugged and adjusted the end of the glove a little higher on her bicep. “And?” 

a quick aside im enjoying how like... visually expressive cinder is in this remaster! i can see her facial expressions and her motions really clearly in my mind’s eye which is a fun little boon if only because i have to redraw this nonsense hjsgdfjhfksgd but cinder’s got a Good Face this time around! A QUALITY FACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You should know by now, there’s something about you that’s simply irresistible to Grimm.”

HERE COMES THE PLOT (and a single surviving line so far... this one sentence has survived all the world could throw at it... we stan)

Cinder straightened, and Glynda saw that this was what she’d been waiting for.

“It isn’t every day the great Glynda Goodwitch kneels before her adversary, is it?”

HELLO??????????????????????????? WHATS THIS WORDING????????? honestly tho for a second i thought she meant like. quite literally and i thought id missed some PROPER SHIT RIGHT THERE BUT YEAH WTH!!!!!!! C I N D E R

“You cheated. You can’t beat me on your own.”

yes glynda we gathered that yr a top

“Really, Glynda? Poison?” she sneered, something like offense simmering in her expression. “After all this?”

looks at the camera

anyway,

god im literally losing grasp of words to say because theres such a charged mood in this scene............. theyre brushing fingers............ trading jabs.......... im slurpin it up babey!!!!!!!! this rly is the BEST remaster of this whole scene it DESERVES this wordcount!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Beat you,” Cinder corrected. “And call it a point of pride.”

yes cinder we gathered yr a brat,

this dynamic is why this fic is so fuckign good when will winter have a swift return to add even more fuckery to this wild ride

Then, with a heavy-lidded look, Cinder found Glynda’s hand between them, the touch so sudden and daring that Glynda flinched. The fabric of those gloves was smooth against Glynda’s flesh, and for all that cruelty had marked every other instance of contact between them, Cinder was surprisingly gentle.

whomp there go my nuts

WHAT IS THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHO MADE THE EXECUTIVE CHOICE TO ADD THIS LINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HELLO???????????? im losing my BRAINCELLS

What she wasn’t ready for was for Cinder to guide her hand to her own throat and hold it there.

THERE IS IT THERE’S THE KINK IT’S BEEN SPOTTED

oh my GOD what even IS THIS WHO ADDED THIS SECTION WHO ALLOWED THIS TO COME TO P A S S WHAT THE FUCK EVEN IS RN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HELLO????????? HEWWO??????????

Now… Now Cinder interested her.

tbh how can i liveblog this? what commentary can i POSSIBLY add that we arent already all THINKING. we just launched into a level of hell so deep that lucifers gonna have to pull some goddamn tricks to follow us down here!!!!!!!!!! WHAT IS THIS SCENE! THIS MOMENT! IM SCREAMING

Glynda mirrored the expression back at him, and finally, he coughed, not making strong eye contact with either of them. He set their plate before them and hurried out without so much as a check-in.

i just KNEW that was gonna happen JHGDSFGJHKSDF he was gonna walk in on SMTHNG but i didnt think itd be CINDER’S CHOKING KINK,

okay i took a break and ate my weight in roast chicken and we’re back babey

Almost nervously, her fingers carded through her own dark hair, and there, among the locks, Glynda spotted a glimpse of something white, structured and ridged.

AND I AM INSTANTLY KNOCKED BACK UPON MY ASS 👈W👈H😨A👈T👈

It was easier to ignore the rest of it—whatever it was.

glynda you are a fool and a moron im withering into DUST

On no level had she expected those to be Glynda’s words.

then what... did she expect... well probably -- and rightly so -- ‘bitch WHAT ARE THOSE’ TBH

wait sorry i have to jump back because i forgot customary fingerguns on the most brazen bit of Shit yet:

Cinder was occupying herself with something else: the head of a dragon, perched over the door and staring down at the two of them with red, glossy eyes.

👈👈👈😎👈👈👈

okay BACK TO THE FIC

Fangs snapped together around the word.

aka back to me horni

/chanting TEETH! TEETH! TE

okay but the reason i doubled back to catch that fingergun is because we’re getting ass-deep into plot now!!!!!!!!!!! WITCHES AND DRAGONS BABEY......... HERE’S WHAT OFFAL HUNT IS ALL ABT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i cant rly drop more fingerguns than that because any astute reader will start realising the dots im shouting abt and honestly half the fun of this fic is the ride so >:3c

“Funny. I was sure he would have told you.”

that blow was so low i think cinder hit the concrete with that one

oh god theyre gonna get to the bit and i-

“Is that what all of this has been about? You called me here to remind me that I'm autistic?”

/SCREAMS

The words were delivered firmly, calmly, but Cinder’s response was the opposite, sudden upheaval seizing her. Her expression opened in something akin to panic. “Wh—no? What? No! That's not what I—”

/SCREAMS

oh my GOD CINDER YOU HAVE FUCKED UP LEGENDARILY!!!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD SHE WAS FELL ASS-FIRST ONTO A LANDMINE OH MY GOD

offal hunt v1 cinder: im totally in control and im playing glynda every step of the way

offal hunt v2 cinder: OH JESUS OH FUCK OH NO THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT-

Cinder seemed genuinely stressed now, speaking quicker as though trying to bury the last sixty seconds.

i knew this remaster would have sections that would blow me away but this bit really took the fcuking cake DGHSJFSJHFDG holy SHIT this is AMAZING

It was difficult to tell in the low light, but if Glynda wasn't mistaken, there was a bright flush of embarrassment coloring Cinder’s cheeks.

this is SUCH prime content hey remember in one of the early liveblogs that cinder would descend into full dork? WELL THE DESCENT CAME EARLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! /pops bottles

“Cinder.” There was a very real line of threat in Glynda’s tone. “Don’t.”

oh this whole scene just keeps getting better i am LOVING this dynamic now!!!!!!! before it was all pretty one-sided so having the conversation rock back and forth is 👌👌👌

That Witch soul of yours—it was designed to void out everything but the prey before you. To be numb to all human emotion. To focus on the hunt and nothing else.

finally the fruit of 50% of my fingerguns COMES TO LIGHT!!!!!!!!!!! PLOT PLOT PLOT

“This is bullshit.” Jabbing an accusing finger at Cinder, Glynda said, “You’re a liar. You’re a criminal!”

i LOVE glyndas pottymouth in this its such a good like... change from her being strict and formal and teachery and now shes full on gremlin huntress hell YES BABY!!!!!!!!!! GO OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“There’s all kinds of things I bet he never told you.” Cinder continued. “Did you know he was close to your predecessor? The Witch who came before you—they were inseparable.”

SRY IM LIKE STRUGGLIN TO COMMENTATE because so much of this like. speaking as an Old-Ass Reader this is like. a LOT! A LOT HAS CHANGED and yet,,,, stayed the same,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, yall kids WILL NEVER KNOW WHAT IT WAS LIKE TO HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL CHAPTER LIKE................ 15 FOR THIS SHIT (but like. chapter 15 was different because this chapter used to be like chapter 7? so now everythings moved along so chapter 15 doesnt sound that impressive but trust me it was a different fic back then)

When they fell away, burnt and ruined, she could see Cinder’s bare arms for the first time. The red lines drawn across her skin sloped down the entire length of her arms, circling her elbows, carved into her wrists. They ended right at her hands, ensuring any long-sleeved garment would hide them. Every covered inch of her was filled like a canvas, like abstract art.

lets pause the fight scene for glynda to be gay!!!!! god im. okay look i said this earlier but im so glad we have more cinder like this tbh. the first version was rly lacking w/ cinder content until late-game when the plot sorta. got itself going? but now we’re eye-deep in this content i LOVE cinder i love this WEIRDO who is a HUGE LOSER and IDIOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM LOVE HER SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And Glynda could not dispel the fear that she had been telling the truth.

and after committing Some Amount In Damages, we’re at the end of the chapter!

okay so i really enjoyed this version SO MUCH MORE. everything abt it was polished and worked together so much better and it really needed the space to breathe in its own chapter. its been horny, gay, intense, hilarious, and way more in one chapter and its SO good this really is PEAK offal hunt!!!!!!!!!!!! good job diesel and kc but im still going to murder you both,

#rwby #offal hunt #liveblog

[sofreakinmanyfandoms]

November 14 - We’re Gonna Go Flirt with Superheroes

Some important notes:

1. Thank you to my amazing friend Dean for letting me use their delightful self as a character in this fic. You may all be jealous that I actually know this person.

2. Because Dean does not have the cleanest of language, this fic has significantly more swearing than anything else I've posted here. I still only put half as much language as normally spews from their mouth. Love you, babe.

3. I've never actually been to a hipster bar and it's been years since I've been to Portland. Please forgive me for any obvious errors.

4. I normally shy away from describing the reader too much, but honestly? I needed this. I needed to explore a bit what it's like being straight but looking gay, because while it's nothing compared to what the LGBT+ community goes through, it's something I get a lot of grief for from my conservative Christian extended family. I needed a fic where the main girl has short hair, okay? Okay.

Thanks for letting me vent myself in this fic.

Word count: 2416

Warnings: Language, mentions of cheating, if you’re homophobic you’ll hate this one so go suck an egg

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X short haired!hipster!Reader

“Ah, Portland,” Sam said with a sigh, looking around at the bar that was definitely owned by someone very hipster. “Remind me again why we’re here?”

“It was the closest city with the material Stark needs to fix the jet,” Steve reminded him. “He’ll have it ready by morning and we’ll be on our way back to the compound.”

“Friends,” Thor declared cheerily, throwing his arms around their shoulders, “despite our transport’s destruction, we have won a great victory this day! Let us celebrate, even if your Midgardian drinks are weaker than mother’s milk.”

Bucky followed behind them, feeling out of place as he took in the décor. The floor and ceiling were concrete, but the walls had been coated in what looked like disassembled pallets with wooden booths build out of the walls. The free-standing tables were giant spools and he was pretty sure no two chairs in the whole building matched. Whoever had been in charge of decorating had even taken the chalkboard menu trope to the extreme, making the whole wall behind the bar a blackboard instead of just hanging one up. Everything was decked out in old – sorry, “recycled” – netting and buoys, presumably ones that had seen actual use based on their condition. Also, Bucky had never seen so much flannel in his life.

He settled into a booth with Sam as Steve and Thor went to get their drinks. The other man was looking around, a determined expression on his face.

“Here’s where we get to the hard part,” Sam whispered to him. “Now we’ve gotta figure out which women are gay and which are just fashionable.

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows at his friend. “I don’t understand.”

Sam leaned back and nodded to the bar. “Well, normally you see a woman in skinny jeans, a plaid flannel, and a beanie? She’s a lesbian. But we’re in Portland, where that’s everyone’s style, so it gets harder. Like the chick on the end of the bar? Pixie cut, slouchy beanie, band tee that’s probably for some local group her friend is in under her open flannel, black jeans that look painted on, and totally ignoring the prime male specimens currently ordering our drinks in favor of her cell phone? Definitely gay. But that chick over there,” he subtly pointed to a nearly identically-dressed girl, shorter and with longer hair, who had definitely noticed Steve and Thor’s presence, “is either straight or bi. I can work with either of those.”

Snorting at his friend’s explanation, Bucky flashed a quick look back at the woman at the end of the bar. Sam was probably right. Too bad; she was beautiful, and he wouldn’t have minded getting to know her better.

----------

You sighed at your phone and shifted on your seat at the end of the bar. Your friend was late again; they were always late. According to the text chain you were receiving nearly non-stop, they were also probably already drunk, not that that was surprising anymore.

“Come on, Dean,” you muttered under your breath. “I need you here before he shows up.”

Five minutes later, your friend stumbled through the door, giggling madly at, well, you didn’t want to know what. They stumbled their way over to you and collapsed onto a stool.

“Why are we here?” Dean immediately began complaining. “I stick out like a sore thumb. I’m more goth than hipster, you know that.”

“We’re here because I nanny for the owner part-time so the drinks are free,” you pointed out, rolling your eyes. “You know fully well that any place becomes your scene when you don’t have to pay for alcohol.”

“True,” Dean replied with another giggle. “I didn’t have to pay at the last place either, because I’m fucking hot. Three guys and two girls bought me drinks.”

“Aaand, that’s it, you’re cut off for the night,” you sighed, asking the bartender for a coffee for your definitely drunk friend. “You did kill your makeup tonight, though. It looks great.”

“Damn right it does,” they slurred. “Hey, how come you didn’t tell me? I’d have gotten here a hell of a lot sooner if you’d told me there were Avengers in the building.”

You followed your friend’s line of sight to where there were in fact four members of the Avengers seated in a booth.

“Oh… I didn’t notice them.”

Dean scoffed and gave you that knowing look that you really hated. “You got lost in your phone again, didn’t you? Just in case he showed up.” The blush on your face was enough of an answer. “Damn it, woman, he’s a fucking asshole who never deserved you and I’d have killed him already if you weren’t so fucking concerned with whether or not things are legal.” They downed the rest of their coffee with a grimace and pushed themselves off the bar, grabbing for your hand. “Come on. We’re gonna go flirt with superheroes.”

Your eyes widened in horror. “Oh no. I am not going to talk to the Avengers with you while you’re drunk.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed as they looked at you. “Then you have to promise me you’ll sing karaoke tonight. You haven’t done it since that bastard criticized your voice, and I miss hearing it. You’re fucking good, and you let that fucking moron rob us all of your beautiful songbird-ness.”

“I hope you realize how drunk you sound.”

“Do we have a deal or not? Because if I’m going to give up a shot at fucking Thor, it had better be for a good reason.”

You sighed. Your friend was always stubborn like this. “Fine, we have a deal.”

“Awesome! I get to pick your song.”

“Aw, hell, no…”

----------

Your ex showed up right before karaoke started as he always did.

“Look at the smug asshole,” Dean muttered into the drink they’d somehow managed to get despite your best efforts. They put on a comically feminine voice and mimicked, “I must sing every chance I get, for my voice is God’s gift to mankind and to deprive people of the joy of listening to it would be blasphemy of the highest fucking order!”

“Dean,” you sighed, “please behave. You’ve already gotten me to agree to singing again. You don’t need to start a scene with him, too.”

“I should cut off his fucking dick for cheating on you.”

Because you knew Dean, you were concerned they meant it. “Don’t. He did me a favor, helping me realize he wasn’t worth it. Now, did you sign me up for karaoke already, or do I need to do it?”

The grin they flashed you was even more concerning when paired with how much they’d had to drink. “I signed us both up. After you sing your mystery song – yes, you’ll have enough of an intro to figure out what it is and come in on time, they put the lyrics up anyway, you’ll be fine – I’ll blow your performance out of the water with a spectacular rendition of ‘Bang, Bang.’ Your ex won’t know what hit him.”

“I’m sure he won’t,” you said dryly, only to be horrified when your name was called first as karaoke started.

Dean laughed at the glare you threw them. “Go blow them all away with your magical voice, darling!”

“Y/N,” the bar’s owner said into his mic when you stepped up on stage. “It’s been far too long, m’lady! Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in a few months, it’s the lovely Y/N singing ‘Shake It Off’!”

“Really, Dean?” you asked, picking up your mic. “All the songs in the world to choose from and that’s the one you picked for me?” The regulars laughed at your teasing as Dean raised their beer in salute. Almost before you had a moment to collect yourself, the music was off and you could feel your ex studying you from his seat near the back with his new woman draped across him. You shut him out of your mind and focus and launched yourself into the song, determined to have fun even if you weren’t really drunk enough to do a Taylor Swift song for karaoke.

----------

Bucky hadn’t been paying attention to much other than his beer until the karaoke started. Their booth was set up at the perfect spot for watching the stage, and he chided himself for the way his heart jumped when you stepped on stage.

“Really, Dean?” you joked, shooting a look at your friend who did not look like – he? She? Bucky couldn’t tell which – would be interested in hanging out in a bar like this. Then you took a deep breath and wow, your whole demeanor changed as you started singing. It was like the song took over you and you had an entirely different energy about you.

“I go on too many dates, but I can’t make ‘em stay,” you sang, and Bucky watched you work the stage, using the mic stand to your theatrical advantage even as you held the mic in your hand. He’d say you were hamming it up for the crowd, but there was something about your performance that said maybe some of the words were hitting a little too close to home for you to be too flippant with them.

“My ex man brought his new girlfriend,” and he didn’t miss the way your eyes flickered to a couple in the back. “And to the fella over there with the hella good hair, why don’t you come on over baby? We can shake, shake, shake.”

He almost choked on his beer, because he could swear that during that last line you had looked over and winked at him in a very “I’m not a lesbian and I want to climb you like a tree” type way. Bucky’s eyes quickly flickered to Sam to see if the other man caught it, but if he had, he wasn’t giving any indication of it.

It had to have been the performance, right? You were just working the audience. When the song ended, he made sure to applaud, and soon your friend (Dean, the announcer called them) was on stage singing like they were, well, as hammered as they looked.

----------

“Come ooooonnnn,” Dean whined, tugging on your sleeve. “Y/N, they’re in town and they’re in this bar and Thor’s so hot I’m surprised I don’t have a sunburn yet. I can’t talk to them alone. Come flirt with me.”

Your friend wasn’t going to give up anytime soon, so you slammed back the rest of your drink and stood.

“Fine,” you said, “but if you look like you’re going to puke on an Avenger at any point I’m dragging you home.”

“Yay!” they cheered, immediately pulling you over to their table and sliding into the booth next to Thor. “Hello, gentlemen of the Avengers. My name is Dean, I’m genderfluid and pansexual and would gladly climb any of you. This is Y/N and she’s a straight prude but if you give her enough alcohol you might be able to get a nice make-out session with her.”

You groaned and rubbed your face with your hand. “Sorry for my friend here. They passed merely being drunk an hour before karaoke started.”

“Pleasure to meet you both,” Captain America (YOU WERE TALKING TO CAPTAIN AMERICA?!?) said. “I’m Steve, and this is Bucky, Sam, and Thor.”

“Hi, Thor.” Dean batted their eyelashes and you choked back a snerk.

Bucky pushed at Sam and the two slid a little further back in the booth, making space for you to sit next to the soldier. He motioned to the seat and you slid next to him hesitantly.

“Sorry for interrupting your evening,” you apologized quietly, although Dean had long since tuned you out in favor of attempting to seduce the god of thunder. “Dean gets an idea their head and I’m basically stuck along for the ride.”

“It’s no problem,” Sam said smoothly. “I do have one question, though. Are you really straight?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, and Bucky thought that might be the nicest sound he’d ever heard. “Yes, I’m really straight. Most people are surprised, but my sense of style wasn’t enough to keep jerks from hitting on me so I got a haircut and fell in love with the style. It’s let me fly under the radar a lot more frequently, which is nice.”

“I can’t imagine how,” Bucky said, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “You’re beautiful.”

Before you could thank him, a voice to your left made you freeze.

“Y/N.”

Dean’s attention was snapped away from Thor and they stared down your ex. “Listen, asshole –”

“Dean.” You held up a finger to stop your friend before they made too much of a scene before entirely turning to your ex. “What do you want, Daniel?”

“It’s free karaoke time,” he crooned, ignoring how unwanted he obviously was. “I thought maybe we could do a duet together, for old time’s sake?”

You affixed him with a glare that would whither a plant. “Why on earth would I want to be reminded of our time together?”

That seemed to shake his confidence a bit. “I’m just being friendly,” he snapped.

“You don’t know how to just be friendly. We’re over, Daniel, so get over it already. If you really wanted me, you wouldn’t have cheated.”

“I believe you heard the lady,” Thor cut in before Daniel could reply. “She wishes for you to leave her alone, and I suggest you abide by her wishes.

For the first time he seemed to notice who you were sitting with, and he sulked off back to his date.

“Well,” Sam broke the silence that had fallen over the table, “I’m guessing that relationship being over is a good thing?”

You nodded. “Thank you,” you told Thor. “I appreciate the support.”

“Anytime, m’lady.”

----------

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bucky asked you softly a few minutes later when you had yet to join the table’s renewed conversation.

You shook your head. “He was a jerk who cheated on me so I got out. It was a long time ago.”

“How could anyone throw away someone like you?”

The earnest way he said it made you blush.

“His loss,” you whispered shyly.

Bucky only paused a moment before asking, “Could I make his loss my gain?”

“I’d like that,” you said with a smile. “I’d like that very much.”

#30 days of avengers one shots #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #Winter Soldier #reader #reader insert #portland #portland oregon #hipster #bar #karaoke #taylor swift #language #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #masterlist #i still suck at tagging

[beaubcxton]

“You’re so brew-tiful, Snow.”

For @recgulus on her birthday. I love you & I hope you enjoy this 5.8kish mess. What is canon, right? Also, I made Simon say Crowley because I really like the word even if it doesnt have any context here. This is rushed but like, enjoy.

It happens on a Monday. Of course, it does Nothing good ever happened on a Monday.  Simon should have known to keep his head low on a day like this. Children sobbing was the welcome tune that announced the beginning of a new day, fingers stumbled on the steering wheel; a sign that the night before might have been exhilarating but now was just, tiring. Mondays were like the thorns in a bed of roses.

Back in the day when his dad was still decent, his father warned him to take care of himself. ‘Nothing like a Monday, mate. Can’t smoke or drink, can ya?’ And Simon had smiled toothily at his father, shrugging off the advice like it was dust that had found its way onto his coat.

He really really shouldn’t have done that.

Reason 1: His mom died two years ago in June on a Monday.

Reason 2: Agatha broke up with him last week. Surprise, surprise! It was on a Monday!

Reason 3: He just spilled hot coffee on the fittest guy in the world on a fucking Monday aka today.

---

“Simon!!”

Feet wheeling automatically at the familiar voice, I extend my arms right in time for Penelope Bunce to fling herself against my chest. Her giggles send a row of vibrations in me that shudder each bone. I-weirdly- find myself inhaling her hair as if to assure myself she’s there. (She smells of watermelon and ink. Typical of her to do something study related even on vacation ) I shift uncomfortably in the hug, her phone digging in my arm.

Pen is my best friend. Been since we were tiny tots. She'd been gone for nearly a month. Being the only person who included me in social ongoings also known as parties where you could get wasted, Penny was the Jake to my Boyle. When conversations had the opportunity to become awkward and stifling, Pen was pretty cool to divert my attention. We'd video called at least five times a week this month.

She pulls back, grins still wide on both of our faces and surveys her surroundings.

It’s earlier than I would like it to be; it’s just barely afternoon and I’ve been awake since dawn. It’s a tiny cafe, huddled alone with its vivid hues of orange and brown amongst the grey concrete building. Good for business. Unlike the outdoors, the interior of the cafe’s temperature induced warmth and placidity. I usually notice several kids hunched and pored over their studying material. Textbooks that hid their anxious face from view are stacked on the tables, their coffees long since drained but I rarely pay attention to it, opting for my ‘want a free refill, mate?’ chime. Employed at the beginning of fall, I was given only a few days to suit the shop with the atmosphere outside. Pumpkins decorate the cashier desk and they’ve been carved to look like famous people. My favorite one is the one that looks like Miley Cyrus. Strings of lights, the ones you get in IKEA fall from the ceiling casting a mellow glow in the gloominess of the upcoming winter.

“I can’t believe you work here now.” She huffs, still having a staring competition with one of the pumpkins. Taylor Swift must have won because my best friend snaps her gaze towards me as if waiting for an explanation. I know where she's going with this and I have no intention whatsoever to get into it. It'll just end with her storming out or worse so I just hum in agreement or whatever she expects from me.

Surprisingly between tucks of hair and another staring completion with Shawn Mendes, she tells me, “It’ll be good for you. I hope, at least. You’ve been a mopey mess since Agatha, now don’t give me that look Si. You know it’s true. I told you not to get involved with her but-“

I will my jaw and heart to loosen. “Missed you Pen.”

Her teasing and motherly grin could light the whole shop up. “Micah and I missed you too.”

My smile wavers. Right. Her boyfriend in America. Really decent bloke, always up for the occasional drag though he’s a right wanker when he’s reading a book. We get along swimmingly. And it's not like I like like Penny but whenever she talks about Micah, it reminds me of my recent break up with Agatha. Someone who I thought I'd spend my life with. For fuck's sake, we're twenty-three. I'd be Pinocchio if I told you that I didn't go ring shopping.

“Simon?” I run a hand through my hair and grimace when it comes out sticky. I haven't talked about Agatha since she broke up with me.

“I’m alright,” I say and conclude the statement by sending her a shaky smile. Penny looks wary but doesn’t do something weird like putting her hand on my shoulder or lending me a hug. I’m grateful for it but also resentful.

The door tinkles and-

“Simon Snow?”

My first thought is ‘Fuck me.’ My second is ‘I’m going to act like a dunce. Crowley, this boy knows my name.’ And my third is nothing.

I go blank. Nada and nil, both poetic wonders dance from my tongue. Penny pinches my arm. I can see her smirking and hiding a giggle but I don’t reproach her for it. Not when Adonis is standing right in front of me, his muscular form a barrier against the cool wind he’s brought with the open door. With slanted eyebrows and thin lips, he looks like someone you’d see in portraits at castles, despite the smirk on his face.

“Simon Snow?” He calls out again and I watch mesmerized as his mouth opens and pronounces my name. I flush. It’s probably in my best intentions if I don’t drool over a customer and with hardly any cool, I raise my arm up like a moron and squeak out a “Here?” like we’re kids and back to roll call.

Super Fit bloke- as I recently decided to call him in my head- shifts his searching glance and focuses on me and I almost reel back in surprise. He’s wearing a hat that shadows his features but even blind, I’d recognize him anywhere. His eyes are grey and unlike anything that I’ve seen. It’s like a storm in there and I’m captivated by observing them. It’s so different watching them up close, up person in daylight than stalking his Instagram profiles at 2am.  And his hair is carefully messed up in an extravagant manner, dark and shiny locks peeking out lazily.

I'm speechless. This is the best day of my life.

“Bastillon Pitch?”

My mouth blurts the words out but I suspect even if I had time, I’d say those same words. That same name. Do you know who is standing in my-not mine but you get the point- coffee shop right now? Award winning and three-time Oscar nominee, Bastillon Pitch. He has nine million and seven thousand followers on Instagram (not that I would know) and he’s been called to Ellen which he’s refused, by the way. For all my understanding (and obsessive knowledge) about  him, I could never understand why he would do that. I mean, who refuses Ellen? That’s like refusing chocolate. Only a few months older than me, he’s the youngest actor to star in so many bloody iconic movies.

The man grimaces and looks around to see if anyone’s heard my exclamation but that would be ridiculous because the only people in the room are him, Pen, me and two ladies with floral blouses and wrinkled fingers. The latter are deep in conversation and are stealing glances at us occasionally to check whether we’re eavesdropping. They’re loud so that’s taken care of. In the seventeen minutes that they’ve been there, I’ve learned that they are lesbians whose gay son eloped with a girl. I'd like to say that's the strangest thing I've heard but it doesn't even rank top ten in today's conversations.

“I go by Baz and shut up, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Rathe dumb, aren’t you? You’re the barista here?” His voice is smooth and dark like wine drunk on a summer night. The tone, however, implies he thinks I’m incompetent. It’s like he’s trying to convey, ‘You? You’re the barista here? Seriously?’ I feel like I’ve been slapped. Hurt and embarrassment course through me simultaneously.

It’s not every day that one gets to meet their fucking celebrity crush but well (I like boys too, you see) I imagine I’m handling it rather well, never mind that my face is probably beet red and I’m this close to stammering. Don’t give me that look. ‘Baz’ Pitch is literally an icon. He’s acted in several movies and he’s so good at it that I get goosebumps watching him. And Crowley, I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t the fittest person I’d seen in my life. 10/10 ass and a perfect asshole. I don’t think I can handle his fucking beautiful lilt this early in the morning what with Agatha presence still ghosting my mind. Bastillon Pitch or not.

“Yes.” I bite. “Why?”

“Just expected a bit more, I suppose. Most baristas have a uniform” He breaks off suddenly and stretches hard like, his shirt literally goes up and I have a view of strained muscles. Crowley. I’m staring at it so hard I’m not aware he’s speaking till he coughs. Shit. I want to wipe that smirk off.

“You seem like the type of guy to like Brooklyn Nine-Nine but you don’t even wear a uniform so I can’t consider you a true fan. Seriously Snow, who wears that to work?” His mouth is opening and closing but all I hear from him is the sign ‘I’m a prick.’

“Sorry, we can’t look like posh assholes all the time.”

He rolls his eyes again at my attempted jab. “You-“

“You  know,-“ I interrupt loudly, “-I wonder if you keep rolling your eyes because you’re trying to find a brain back there.”

The asshole grins and I’m disarmed by the beauty of it for a moment. His teeth do not contrast well with his tanned appearance. They look almost yellow in the dim light of the coffee shop but they’re sharp. I oddly wonder if he’s played a vampire. But then I know he’s not. I’ve watched all of his movies. Twice. Okay, thrice.  (And maybe a few more times after that)

“Touche” As he walks towards me, I can swallow my disgust. He’s so damned tall. Seriously what was the point of these people with their ridiculous heights of six foot when I, a mere mortal was just five foot one? (I never said I wasn't dramatic.)  “I didn’t expect it from you. Soft, aren’t you Snow?”

Pen, the traitor is nicely backing away.

“Soft?” I splutter manically even though I know being soft is wonderful but Bastillion Pitch cannot know in any universe that Simon Snow is soft. It would not bode well on his impression of me.

He grins wolfishly. “Shame.”

Shame? Shame? What does that even mean?

His sudden bark of laughter shakes the bloody walls. “Flustered, mate?”

​Oh. Oh. Pen has long since retreated, thankfully because I wouldn’t feel like quitting if she was here. It’s just like the universe to make the (EX) love of my life an arse who has no consideration for my feelings. I admonish myself for sounding like a sap.

“I only get flustered in front of cute. Hot, hot people.”

Predator smirk combined with no reply sets me on edge. “What do you want?”

“Good grades but I already have them. Do you, Snow?”

I try not to let the bitterness seep into my tone. Of course, acting isn’t enough for the Great Bastillon Pitch. He’d have to study and rank too, possibly. I couldn’t understand why he’d need to work with all that money.

“Stop calling me that.”

Damn, how does he raise just one eyebrow?

“It’s a name, Snow. Surely, even you know what their purpose it?”

What? I’m so confused right now. I rack my brains and ask myself if I’ve done anything to warrant such behavior but I come out short. Did I bump into him on the street and not apologize? Kick his dog? No to both because I’d remember being a shithead. I don’t want to be on bad blood with Bastillon Pitch, however, so I try to rein my irritation in. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot.

“What are you majoring in?”

He stares at me. Blinks. Stares. “I want to become a lawyer.” He draws out the words like he thinks I’m a moron.

Who knew it’d be hard to have a conversation with Bastillon Pitch? Not me.

“I think you playing a vile asshole has rubbed on your in real life personality.” This time, I’m teasing.

His laughter is a sound I’ve not heard before. It’s warm and cold, both at once like he’s rarely had the opportunity to full on laugh, uncontrolled and unpracticed and he’s not sure how to excel in the skill. I think that irks him, not being able to control it because he stops quickly though I won't forget how, for a moment, his eyes crinkled shut and how his fingers curled in. I shiver.

It’s like someone has clicked a button on his personality. His face becomes a mask of nonchalance. “Coffee.” He orders. “Tall and with milk.”

Disappointment finds its way to me. Despite the ongoing insults, it was exciting to spar with someone. I’m just usually bored here. I grind the dusty little machine on (it’s certainly not Starbucks material) and waits for the hum that it’s working before I assemble the milk and sugar, distinctly aware that eyes are trailing me.

“You’d be a good lawyer,” I say suddenly as I pour a teaspoon of milk in, anxious to continue the conversation. His eyes widen. “Make people all mad and that. That be two pounds.”

His lips twitch as he silently hands over the money. I draw up the bill and as I’m handing over the coffee, full to the brim in a paper cup. His nails brush the desk as he leans forward, breath warm against my cheek as he murmurs, “You’ve got a nice arse, Snow.”

And because, I’m Simon Snow, because I’m a walking disaster, because Bastillon Pitch is an asshole who deserves it, I splutter and my hands shake for one infinite second before the cup goes down, falling and the piping beverages jumps onto Baz’s leather clothes.

Times stops in that standstill of a second. Nothing moves. In that second, I’m not an idiot but the spell is broken and I realize what an A class clown I am.

“You’ve got a little coffee there.” I murmur, mortified as Bastillon Bloody Pitch stares at himself for several seconds before his charged animal eyes hook me in place.

“What the fuck, Snow?”

I splutter maniacally, flinging drool here and there. Sending a plea to the ground to swallow me up, I stumble in my haste to get some towels. I start to dab one on his chest and flush when I realize I’m essentially touching his breasts. I am touching Bastillon Pitch, Oh my Gosh.

Do not think about that, Simon Snow. Do not think about that.

Baz pushes me off and tugs the towel and wipes himself. He’s snarling and his eyes have darkened but I (shockingly) notice pink coloring his cheeks.

“Rubbing it won’t help, Bastillon. You’re supposed to dab-”

“I reckon you’d know a lot about this. This your ninth time dropping coffee on a customer? And I go by Baz, how many fucking times-”

I raise my hands and back away. He seems almost embarrassed but I do not want to be in the way of an angry ‘Baz’  Penny, please be there. “I’m sorry. Coffee’s on the house.”

“THERE IS NO COFFEE, TO BEGIN WITH!”

Well, he has a point there. I concede defeat and murmur apologies. Baz drops the towel on the floor like a wanker and storms out, the door slamming shut behind him and the texture of frost whipping across my face for a millisecond as I process the previous events.

The old ladies are looking at me and grinning. I bury my hands in my face and groan.

I could not catch a break.

---

“Snow!”

Fuck. What is he doing here? I shut my eyes for a second, try to collect any calm in this universe and curse softly.

“SNOW!”

I move out from the kitchen and press my apron, hastily. The warm aroma of coffee ground hits me as I step out the door and face to Bastillon.

“Hey.”

He sneers. “Where's the apron?”

My eyebrows pinch together and I look down at myself, just to double check. I had worn it.

“What are you on about, mate? It's right here.” I say and gesture to my clothes.

Surprisingly, Baz flushes and growls out, “Where's my apron, you moron?”

I know he's trying to be a really tough boy and crap but whenever he growls, it sounds really cute, almost like he's imitating a baby bear. I have the sudden urge to pinch his cheeks and coo over him.

“Snow!”

He even has the personality of a bear.

“Sorry. Lost in thought. What did you say?”

Baz shutting his eyes will forever be one of the most dramatic and exaggerated actions  in the world. It's like one of those slow things. First, he twists his fingers and they curl around the table. Then, his lips purse. All the while his eyes are slowly shutting. Maybe, he took classes for that.

“I said,” He manages to say. “Where the fuck is my apron?”

Sighing, I run a hand through my hair. “Look mate, I can make you a cup of perfectly fine coffee, provided you don't startle me like-”

“Urgh!” Baz implores to some deity. “I’m working here, you dumbass.”

I freeze.

There is no way I heard correctly.

“What?”

“Fucking Crowley.” He murmurs, throwing his look downwards.

Just when you think life’s picking up, when you finally move on from the incidents of yesterday and go a few hours without this complete and utter arse, Bastillon Pitch drops in and says, “Hey! I‘m going to work with you. ”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Crowley, I'm going to need to tell my aunt about you.”

Somewhere inside me, my heart stumbles. “What?”

“My aunt?” Baz smirks. “The owner?”

Are you serious? Someone up there had it out for me. Embarrassment rings through me.

Pinching my lip, I have a revelation about what I must do. Alrighty then. I give him my apron and resign. Guns and Roses blare in the background as I do this mighty and heroic deed. I leap off the platform, pluck my sunglasses off and kiss the mole on Bastillon face because no matter how much of an asshole he is, I will forever be attracted to him before I pull away and slam the door on my way out.

Well, I imagine all of this. Could you tell? I really cannot believe my luck. Now, his aunt who I assumed was a perfectly good woman is going to fire me and I’ll live on the streets for all eternity. Staring at how happy Bastillon looks with the bombshell he's just dropped doesn't help me in the slightest. Moving to get him an apron, I throw it towards him and cross my arms as a thought strikes me.

“When did you start?”

Chuckling low and warm, Baz pulls the apron on top of himself and smiles. “And here I thought you were dull.  Yesterday.”

Xxxxxxxxx                                         

We’ve settled into a routine. Baz and I. It’s really just one rule though we’ve found it hard to obey. Do not interfere with the other.

Sometimes, I’m making coffee when Baz leg brushes against mine and while both of us turn pink, I choose not to say anything while he goes into a rage about how I’m an imbecile who hogs all the space and how ‘you hog all the space with your fucking stupidity, Snow!’

So I’d retaliate. The other day, for example, he’d asked me for a cuppa. He was on break and by obligation, I had to make him one so I set out to make a cup of tea when this brilliant idea struck me. I boiled the gatorade up and put it in a cup with sugar on its side. Waiting patiently as he raised his eyebrows, sipped the tea and then, spat it out, I couldn’t help but feel vicious satisfaction.

We play a bunch of games too. Not the friendly ones that children in playgrounds do but the ones that people with no lives and who thrive on annoying their rival do.

One of them is the growling game; every time, we roast each other and someone doesn’t retort but growls, loses. The other is The Quick Game; we have a tally on who serves the most customers. So far, Baz is winning by a marginal. (a lot) My favorite is the Embarrassment Game; when we’re talking to customers, we tell them ridiculous things about the other. Baz, of course, started it first. He had told one of my favorite customers that I’m a rather dull kid and his aunt had hired me in pity. I had told the next customer he was gay. He, surprisingly, didn’t have anything to say to that and we haven’t played the game since.

---

“You’d think that a barista would know how to make a cup of coffee.” Baz is saying to his aunt, Fiona who is coincidentally my boss. Did I mention that before? We’re at her office, not because she’s called me though that was what I was led to believe, cue angry glare at the boy on my left. “But Snow dropped the whole fucking mug, sorry, freaking mug on me on my first day and I had to go home.” Baz added, opting for a pout.

Crowley, he looks brilliant. Bugger. We’re playing the Embarrassment Game again and I am not ready, for once.

I try to display some professional mannerism. Might as well look good before I was fired. Still, I feel melancholic as I rack my brains about my future prospects. What would I work as now? Who’d want to hire me? The guy who can’t hold a cup of coffee? I wouldn’t hire me. I can’t help but feel resentment towards Baz.

“Simon.” Fiona reproaches, leaning forward, hands crinkling some papers as she does so. I liked Ms. Pitch. Despite her hubris and ridiculous attire; fluffy clothes that suited a ball venue and not a coffee shop, she was sweet when you (really) got to know her. Never in my wildest dreams would I imagine her to be connected to Baz Pitch. It was typical of my luck for my rival’s aunt to be my boss. “I am very disappointed in you.”

My eyes shut, ashamed. You’d think I’d be used to it, right? The shouts that I’m not good enough but-

“You should have poured the whole bloody machine on his head. He certainly deserves it!”

Baz’s eyes widen proportionally while my mouth drops open.

“What?” We both articulate.

Ms. Pitch goes on as if she hasn’t heard out exclamations. “I thought I couldn’t love you anymore. I was wrong.” Her eyes fixate on me and I stare back, stupefied.

“Go on, then! You have a coffee shop to run.”

As I’m leaving, she says, “And Simon? Expect a raise soon.”

The door slams shut before I can express my stupefied gratitude. I think of going in, again but then I hear Baz’s groans and protests and my feet express a desire to get away, as quickly as possible.

Xxxxx

“Hey, Baz?” I begin, crumpling the cupcake wrapper in a ball and stuff the cake in my mouth. We’re on lunch break now. Sitting right in front of me is Baz though his focus is on his phone and not me. It’s a real pity. Is my sarcasm obvious? I wonder if he’s hungry. Looks like he’s starving. That would explain his pallid color. I know he’d prefer sitting away from me but it’s either here, in the kitchen or outside and attending to people. Every introvert’s worst nightmare. “Baz?”

He rolls his eyes at his phone and cranes his neck upwards. “What, Snow?”

I tsk. He’s like a fucking crab, always ready to bite my head off even though I’m perfectly pleasant. I suspect that even if the Queen of England were to knock, he’d slam the door in her face, grumbling about something.

“Do you ever eat?”

Surprise flashes in his eyes before he scoffs. “No, Snow. I don’t. I’m a vampire and I drink blood.”

I grin toothily at him. They’re probably yellow and red, resultants of the red velvet cupcake and gummy bears I had for lunch.

“Always knew you were a soul-sucking monster.”

Baz turns back to his phone though I can see a hint of a smile at his lips.

---

The other day, word got out that the Bastillon Pitch works at a humble cafe so we’ve been swarmed by teenage girls. Baz, true to his credit, threw them a stellar personality before he said rather dismissively, “We’re closing early! Technical issues.”

I had thrown him a look. “Baz. We worked at a cafe.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

I rolled my eyes and sent his fans a smile but they ignored me. “Can you sign this, Baz?” “Baz! Will you marry me?”

The requests were strange but Bas took them in stride. Soon, we had most of them out but camera lights still flashed in out direction. When we decided to close for the day, Baz and I lazed about in the room. Him working on study material and I worked on getting my Tumblr theme.

“I don't understand what those girls see in you.”

Baz barely spares me a glance as his fingers click the keyboard.

“I’m an actor, Snow.”

“And a real-life vampire.”

Baz grins. Hides it. “What are you studying?”

“I don't go to college anymore.”

“Oh?” Baz seems surprised. “If you wanted money, you could ask-”

I don't know if he's jesting or being genuinely kind but it stings me, regardless. “I don't want to go.”

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

---

“Sorry! I’m latte!” The pun comes naturally as I burst in the coffee shop, almost an hour late. The bell tinkles as I run towards the cashier.

Baz is leaning against the counter, no customers in sight. It’s a slow day. But apparently, I’ve made a horrendous mistake as Baz folds his arms over his chest and stares me down, the textbook picture of condescension.

“Thank Crowley” I breathe as I pull over my apron. Normally, I’m not late. I’m really not but today, right as I was about to leave the flat, Agatha comes barging in, tears cascading down her pretty face. Her mascara was smudged so I’d known she had been crying for hours.

“What’s wrong?” I had set her down on the sofa and went off to make some tea. That’s all I’ve been doing lately. Agatha started going on about how she missed me and agreed that maybe, we should have given us another shot.

“Let’s get back together, Si, alright?” Agatha had said, staring at me with those bluebell eyes I had grown so accustomed and fond of seeing.

And then, I had a revelation. I did not want us anymore. It wasn’t so much that I was afraid of being hurt again but something else. I had moved on. It felt weird because I was so used to being in love with her, I forgot the feeling of not loving her. And, this feeling was so great I wanted to giggle but I couldn’t do that, not with Agatha flooding my apartment with her tears so I had steered her out and said very softly, mind you that ‘No, I’m sorry, Aggy but no.”

Now, here I was, still panting and victim to ‘Bastillon Pitch Full On Glare’, something I did not want to ever see. He’d looks like he’s swallowed dung. So fucking angry.

“I met up with Agatha.” I say, shortly. That does not dissuade him in the slightest. If I had to say, he looked even angrier. I had rambled about my ex to him in the past weeks. I wish I hadn’t.

“Oh,” He says cooly. “And, I suppose the lovely pair has gotten together again?”

“I didn’t want to.” I pacify him and he cools down, slightly.

“Oh.” He sounds like Christmas has come early. Wanker.

“I can’t expresso your attitude-”

Baz groans. “Stop with the fucking puns, Snow. You’ve been on them since yesterday.”

“And you’re still not used to it? Oh, bugger.” I mock a sympathetic sigh.

And then out of the blue, he says something that sends my heart which is already pounding a million miles per hour, race again because he’s looking at me like that and the twat leaves the room after he says it, like he knows I can’t chase him after the bombshell he’s just dropped.

He stares me right in the eye and says, disinterestedly, “I’m gay.”

Xxx

Ever since he’s told me he’s gay, I feel like something’s changed between us. Do I tell him I’m gay or bisexual too? It’s gotten awkward. I tried to talk to him and transfer the message that I’m not homophobic to him but he gets all clammy if I’ve walked two steps up to him and begin with ‘Baz?’

Normally, I don’t let this bother me. We get on each other’s nerves. Totally normal if I kept persisting. But he looks genuinely uncomfortable and he probably regrets telling me even though I don’t know why he’s told me in the first place, to begin with. I steer out of his way the rest of the day.

As the day progresses, he gets even more on edge, nearly snapping at an old lady who couldn’t see the menu. I try to manage the orders and let him work near the machines. But after, he kicks the machine that we all know doesn’t work, I give up trying to soothe him.

When two people have filed a complaint, I almost facepalm. My killer headache helps in making my day worse. With that and Baz’s mood swings, there’s nothing more I want but to go back home. But of course, that’s when the day gets worse.

It’s nearly night when Fiona rings us up. She rarely comes to the shop but does her paperwork at home. Efficient and tactical.

Baz picks up the phone and I can hear Fiona’s distant chattering but I focus more on Baz’s darkening face. Suddenly, he slams the phone down and tells me, “Close down.”

“It’s not 8pm, yet,” I state, dumbly.

“Fast, you imbecile.”

“But-”

That is, of course, when the lights flicker off and we’re buried in darkness. Baz’s shadow stands out prominently, in front of me and his groan followed by a curse, splits the air.

“Blackout.” Baz explains when I continue staring as he drops on the ground. I rub my eyes and lean against the counter. This was perfect. Fiona had installed those automatic doors today in the afternoon, the ones that functioned on electricity so we were locked in. Two rivals trapped in a room together. Maybe, once I went insane, psychologists could study me and they’d be shocked with the observations.

And maybe, they'd be surprised at how much I still like Bastillon Pitch.

---

Charcoal darkness has winnowed in and coated us with anxiety and tension. There were no curtains so we’d stumbled behind the counter, afraid and weary.

“Sleep in the kitchen?” I say as we’re munching leftovers.

“You can take the kitchen.” He's talking to me. “I’ll sleep here.”

Scoffing, I nudge him with my foot which apparently sets him off. “Don't be ridiculous, Baz. We’re thin enough to fit in the kitchen.”

It'll be cramped and we’ll be arm to arm but I wager we’ll manage.

Baz tears through the bread with his teeth. “Fine.” He bites off.

My foot starts to sleep so I shake it.

“Would you stop doing that?” Baz murmurs after a few minutes. He sounds agitated as he rubs his head. We’re just sitting in darkness now, doing nothing but analyze each other.

“What?”

“Shaking your fucking foot, Snow. I'm trying to sleep.”

My jaw clenched. He was so infuriating sometimes. “You are not sleeping here.”

“Oh?” Baz scoffs, curling into the wall. “Since when do you care? You’re always running after-”

I let out an angry cry. And I don't think, I do. I want him to shut up. Surging forward, I notice how Baz’s monologue starts to delve. He has his eyes shut, I faintly register before I tilt my head and kiss him.

Bas stills and sags beneath my palms like I’m draining all of the oxygen in him. And Crowley, he’s so warm. I care, I try to tell him. You're the sun and I'm crashing into you. You mean so much to me.

I'm leaning over and when he doesn't respond, I pull away, disappointed and embarrassed. He's breathing heavily and I can see his grey beautiful eyes stare at me, wide with shock. I'm stumbling to get away when I fall into his lap. Pushing away, I’m horrified and about to fucking shoot myself.

All I can think about is how the door is locked and I'm trapped with a guy who's probably going to sue me because I assaulted him and oh my god, what am I-

“Snow.” Baz murmurs.

“Here,” I repeat like so long ago.

“Snow, what the fuck?” Baz is already departing his wall. At least, he’s engaged in being frustrated.

“Look, just don't tell the table-”

Baz tsks. “You’re such a moron, Snow.”

I splutter but then he kisses me.

And my mind goes blissfully blank.

---

We sleep in the kitchen that night, my arm draped across his body and his fingers twitching for me.

There’ll be time to talk about what I am, what we are later. How it’ll affect the press and other matters.

For now, it doesn't matter. We don't care. It's just us, two boys who’ve found solace and whose heart aches for the other, suspended in the dark, in time.

It's Baz and me.

#ahsdaosdhfao im even more sorry for this lmao #mine #lotte #carry on #simon snow #snowbaz #snowbaz fanfiction #bastillon pitch #baz #simon x baz

[moczothe1st]

Let’s Play Fire Emblem IV: Genealogy of the Holy War, Part 16: The World’s Last Hope, Maybe, Sorta

Part 15

Welcome back to Fire Emblem IV, as we begin the second generation in earnest. Unlike in real life, this new generation may actually succeed in making the world a better place, though in fairness that’s partially because the last one left it in such a state there’s nowhere to go but up.

When we signed off, we had just met a pair of idiots and I allowed you to choose between them, because I’m a great guy like that.  You picked Johan, unanimously, for reasons varying from his superior speed growths, to his greater range of movement, to just hating Johalvier’s stupid face. All valid reasons!  So I’ll be picking him up ASAP, to prevent him from accidentally getting his dumb ass killed.  But first, as our turn begins, we have a new arrival to the battlefield…

And she’s blue, so I like her already. 

(A green-haired pegasus knight whose mount is named after Erin’s sister. I wonder who her mom is.)

(Arthur is a little less obvious since weird white hair is pretty common in this game, as Julia reminded us last week, but he’s Taillte and Lewyn’s son.)

Arthur: Er, right. Sorry about that. Say, Fee, I don’t have too far to go. If you want, I can just walk from here.

Fee: Where are you off to, anyway?

Arthur: Oh, just Alster.

Fee: A-Alster?! Geez, you’re dumber than I thought! Alster’s waaaay south of here. There’s an entire sea in the way, for crying out loud! I dunno what you’re thinking, but you haven’t a hope in heck of walking the rest of the way there!

Arthur: Eh, it’s fine. I’m hardly in a hurry.  

Fee: So, er, why do you need to go to Alster?

Arthur: Oh, see, I’ve got a sister I haven’t seen in years who might be there.

(… And yet, not in a hurry.)

Arthur: She and my mom were taken away when I was just a kid. I was sort of left alone in some far corner of Silesse or another.  I just heard a rumor, but at this point even a rumor’s enough if it means I might find her.  

Fee: Huh, really? You know, I know just what that’s like. My big brother’s been missing for ages.

Arthur:  Did you get separated from him as well?

Fee: Oh, no, nothing that bad. We’ve always lived together in Silesse, but awhile back he ran off to try and find our dad.  

Arthur: Your father, huh?

Fee: Yeah, he’s been missing for years. Mom spent the rest of her life waiting for him to come back, but he never did…

Arthur: What happened to her?

(Was the use of ‘the rest of her life’ too subtle for you, Captain Tact?)

Fee: She… she’s dead. Illness…

Arthur: Oh… sorry about that. I shouldn’t have brought it up…

Fee: It’s okay! I mean, you’ve already brought up lots of things that you shouldn’t have.

(I think Fee and I will get along just fine.)

Fee: … Heh, kidding. You’re actually not that bad.

Arthur: Heh heh, thanks. And thanks for giving me a chance and letting me come along with you.

Fee: No problem! So was the sister thing real? Is that actually why you’re travelling?

Arthur: Yeah, it’s real. But what about you? What’s your deal?

Fee: Actually, I kinda want to join that Isaachian rebel army.  

(And I want more flying units, so we’re both in a good place. Welcome to the team, Fee!  Don’t stand too close to Larcei if you don’t want to get coated in the blood of her victims.)  

Fee: When I was little, mom told me stories about the paladin Sigurd and his brave allies, and those have always meant a lot to me. Lately I’ve been hearing about how Sigurd’s son is somewhere in Isaach, raising a revolution. And it all just sort of clicked, y’know? I knew that’s where I need to be, s oI just ran right out of home to try and find him.

Arthur: Wow… that’s pretty great of you. Y’know, I think I’ll help you out here for a while. It’s the least I can do for you putting up with me.

Fee: Okay! Partners it is, then. Good luck out there… partner!

Arthur: Heh! Upbeat as ever, aren’t you?

And with that, we round out our team for the second generation’s first chapter, except for Johan, who isn’t recruited yet and also doesn’t count.  Let’s take a look at what we got.  

First, Julia, the mysterious priestess whose identity could be anyone. She might be a random person from anywhere in the entire world. There’s no way to tell who she is.  It’s a total, unabashed, impossible mystery to sol-

Oh, she has Major Naga and Minor Vala Holy Blood, so she’s Deirdre and Arvis’s kid.  Yeah, honestly, it’s kind of like the developers forgot you can just look at the stat screens to find out a general idea of these character’s parents.  They really try to play up Julia’s identity as a mystery, but there’s literally only one person she could be.  Notice, however, that she doesn’t have Loptyr blood. Now there’s a mystery for ya…

In terms of her utility as a character, meanwhile, Julia is excellent. Blows her mom out of the water, thanks to inheriting Adept and Pursuit from her shitty father and having a generally better base stats and superior growths; in particular, thanks to her two Holy Bloods adding to her already naturally huge Magic growth from Deirdre, she actually comes to a magic growth of 100%.  She will always get a magic point when leveling up, so by the end of the game she will be a goddamn magic cannon. Her weak points will be her Defense and Speed, the former of which is partially offset by the fact she actually has a remarkably high HP growth as well.  

However, none of this matters right now because she starts off without any weapons.  Don’t worry, that will change soon enough.  Oh, and while we’re here…  

Lana: You know, Lord Seliph’s actually really been worrying about you.  

(PLATONICALLY!  He has been PLATONICALLY worrying about his HALF-SISTER.)

Lana: If there’s anything I can do to help you, just let me know and I’ll get right on it.  

Julia: Mm. Thank you…

Lana: Oh, and I’ve got a little something for you.

Julia: This is… a Mend staff?

Lana: You can use these, right?

Julia: For me? Thank you, Lana. With this… I know I can help everyone.

Lana: You’re welcome, Julia. Let’s give this our all, together!

D’aaaaaaaaaw. Shame this game was released like twenty years before it was socially acceptable to admit lesbians existed, because I ship Lana/Julia now.  And not just because I want to make absolutely sure the latter cannot ever accidentally marry her brother.

Next up, Fee.  

Like her mom before her, Fee is just generally solid.  Her base stats mark her as a speedster, but her defense, resistance, and strength are all set at 8 when she’s only level 2, so she isn’t fragile or weak by any means; if she follows in Erin’s footsteps and gets lucky on the Defense growths, only archers will ever really be a threat to her. My hope is that by giving her Azel as a dad means she’ll also get a solid Magic growth (+30% from his Minor Vala Blood!) and will become sort of a flying artillery piece wielding all our magic swords to rain death on the enemy from above.  This is kind of experimental, I admit. But on the plus side, even if that doesn’t work out, just ‘a second Erin’ is still plenty fine by me. Erin was cool beans.

And finally, Arthur.  

Hehehehehe…

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…                                      

HAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…

*deep breath*

Arthur is invincible. He has Forseti and he’s invincible.  I mean his growths and all that shit are great too, he’s essentially Lewyn 2.0 with all the latest upgrade software, but really, that’s the summary. He’s got Forseti, and for the purposes of this map he is invincible. It’s going to be two more chapters before we fight anything that can lay a finger on him while he’s wielding that monster.

This isn’t the only reason I married Lewyn and Taillte. But it certainly is a big one.

Now then. Like a moron, I accidentally moved Lana and Julia too far forward to have them chat with each other. They’re in the range of Johan’s army. So I have the rest of the team form a perimeter while Larcei and Seliph run their butts off to join in.  Arthur starts moving toward the castle to remove the current owner, and Fee moves to the village nearest her starting point to take a swing at the bandit there…

Did you just get hit on a 21% chance? And I was just talking up how good you are! *sigh* End turn. Johan’s army takes their swing at us…

…. That was pathetic!  Only Ulster dodged any of that, and not nearly enough for my tastes considering he almost died anyway.  What happened, kids?! You were rocking last week! Sigh. Okay. Okay. Let’s try and salvage this…

…. Yes, that’s a good start.

FEE! WHAT THE SHIT, LADY?!

Oh, that doesn’t count, Arthur. You’re holding a universal cheat code.

Now, I have the remaining characters form a line that will force Johan’s axe men to take a long, weird path to get to anyone who can’t fight back. With luck this means nobody will get attacked more than once.  Honestly, at this point, I’m mostly afraid Johan will hit someone who can really fight back and get his dumb ass killed; that would be embarrassing to get a reset over someone who technically isn’t even my ally. Larcei is in his range, though… hopefully he will talk to her, rather than try to axe her. End turn…

Oh, and Johalvier’s douches have been moving toward us too, because I can’t have nice things .

Oifey can’t actually one-shot these guys normally. He procced Critical on this one because he’s a killstealing old bastard.

…. Why have you people decided to stop dodging…?

This may… go badly.

… And of course we’re in a situation where I need Oifey to both dodge (it’s only a 30% chance to hit but he hasn’t been performing lately) and not hit back too hard. Fucking grand.

OIFEY YOU MAGNIFICENT BASTARD, I LOVE YOU.

Now. NOW.  First, Julia heals Oifey and I send him a space up to let Larcei run in.

(No, he’s just an idiot.)

Johan: Larcei… oh Larcei! Your words are as the sweetest birdsong! Your eyes are as the most brilliant stars! Oh, without you at my side, what purpose is there in life? What joy could possibly be?

Larcei: Stop it! How revolting! This is a battlefield! Are you out of your mind?!

Johan: I can deny my heart no longer, Larcei. Believe me when I say I’ve tried! Alas, love is a maddening beast at times…. What else can I do but be at your side? Men, we are joining the liberation army! From this day on, we are men of honor! Fight on in the name of justice, love, and Larcei!

Well. At least he’s enthusiastic.

At this, Johan joins the army and his units all become neutral, friendly to us and hostile to Johalvier’s army.  They’re also all heavily wounded, so they’re mostly just going to die, but at least they’ll take some fire off us for one turn.  

(… Did he, though?)

Johalvier: Bet he’s gone and sided with her army ,too. That weak-willed fool…

(Okay, that he definitely did.)

Johalvier: Hmph… fine by me! Men, attack! Johan’s unit is now the enemy!

And seeing this declaration of war by his brother and rival, Johan runs away to Lana for healing so he doesn’t get totally destroyed.  

End turn!

(I’m actually going for the other one, thanks.)

*sniff* Oh, milord Seliph, you are truly on the path to surpass your father. Seriously. I don’t think he got a level that good in his entire half of the game, and it’s like your third so far in just your first map.  I’ve never seen Seliph get off to a start this strong, and if he keeps it up he’ll be a walking nuclear war when he promotes.  

I’m a little nervous now. What if he’s building me up so he can let me down later?  I’ve been hurt before.

Dannan: Schmidt! Get out there! Take back my castles, now!

Schmidt: Yes, sir! You can depend on me!

(“No way I’m just a one-chapter flunky boss! No way, not ol’ Schmidty!  Schmidt, that’s the name of a Big Bad right there! I bet I’m really Super-Loptyr in disguise!”)

Anyhow, when Johan joined his castle became neutral to us, and Schmidt is gonna go take it.  That’s actually a very good thing, so I’m going to let him do that while we finish off Johalvier’s goons.  

… Or they finish us off. 4% chance to hit and he popped ya one right in the jaw, Larcei? Seriously? You’re lucky I have two healers now.

And of course, what’s life without a little bit of killing your brother?

That’s the end of the interesting; Arthur is still walking toward a village, and Fee takes a distance shot at a bandit with her Bolt Sword but doesn’t kill him.  End turn.

I should be happy that Johan dodged on an 87% chance to be hit, but frankly I’m just more angry at the others now.  

Awesome. With that, there’s only one member of the Sophara army left. First, I have Fee and Arthur clear out the villages they’re near;

And Fee liberates hers.

Neat. Now it’s just a matter of wiping out the last of Johalvier’s soldiers:

And the army begins to move south. There’s one more village to clear out, and we have to be ready to take back Isaach after Schmidt takes it.  

Again: We want this to happen. There are two castles, and we want Isaach.  You want Isaach to fall so you can take it back, or you want to recruit Johalvier so it’s hostile from the start. You do not want to take Sophara. DO NOT.  

I’m not joking.

This is super important.

Pick it up, you losers.  

The team just spends another turn moving south, while Arthur liberates a village.

Isn’t This the Same Guy From the Last Village: Well, those imperial sods won’t stand a chance at all! Every last one of them will be run right out of our great land!

Sure thing. End turn!

*sigh* They all have hand axes, so this is actually going to take them awhile. It’s okay, that gives us time to set up a defensive line. Lester, meanwhile, clears and liberates a village.

Best Girl: I bet we’d all have a much better time with him on the throne if that were true, huh? Here, take this here skill ring. Go on, do your best! We’re all behind you!

Sweet. Bows are one of the more inaccurate weapons in the game, so more skill for Lester is quite welcome. Plus, Fee gets close enough to chat with Seliph finally.

Fee: Call me Fee! I’m from Silesse.

Seliph: Silesse, you say? Are you a pegasus knight, then?

(She’s literally riding a pegasus and holding a sword, man.)

Fee: Er, not just yet. I’m kinda still in training. My mom was one, though! Actually, in the big war years ago, she helped Lord Sigurd out in his army.

Seliph: Is that so? She has my utmost gratitude on my father’s behalf. Now, what brings you here, Fee?

Fee: See, what happened was I was looking for my brother, who ran away ages ago. But then I heard about you, sir, and how you’re taking on the Empire! And I just knew I had to be here too. Can I join your army, sir? Please?

Seliph: Certainly! Thank you. What of your brother, though?

Fee: It’s silly, sir, but I have this feeling we’ll run into him somewhere down the line.

(“Foreshadowing, sir.”)

Not much to show other than that. Arthur starts slooooowly moving toward the rest of the team, and Julia gains her first level from healing.

…. Remember when I said Deirdre wasn’t very good and then she got a bunch of great levels to spite me? I’m kind of scared Julia’s decided to do the opposite as some teenage rebellion against her mom’s legacy.

To the south, the Schmidtmeister finally takes Isaach, and his army starts moving north toward us, which suits me just fine.  I ain’t in no rush, yo. In fact, I’ll just wait a few turns in my fine defensive formation while Arthur runs toward us. Come at us when you’re ready, losers.  

Four turns later, the first of them arrives, alone, and misses.

Fear the wrath of the Schmidtritter.

Now, these guys totally suck with one exception. Schmidt himself is fairly badass, and there’s a reason for that:

BITCH HAS LEX’S BRAVE AXE! Remember when I said the items from people who didn’t pass them on to kids will show up later? Well, it’s later.  I think we can all agree this cannot stand, out of honor to Lex and also I want that axe back.  But, of course, that means killing him with an axe dude. And we only have one of those. So for Johan to not disappoint us, I think we need to soften him up first.  Lester?

(Well, looks like somebody thinks he’s hot Schmidt.)

Hm. Okay performance, and an average level. At least it was better than his first level.  But seriously, man, your dad was beating you out by this point. That’s sad. And I’m not entirely sure Schmidt will die to a single hit from Johan, so I send in another helper to soften him up further.

Not bad! Defense is definitely great for her, and her Luck is pretty abysmal too, so combined I’m not displeased with this showing.  Johan?

…. Oh hey, Johan missed on an 80% chance to hit, and died to the counterattack.

If I hadn’t promised to do a no-death run I would leave his corpse rotting in the sunny plains of Isaach.  Reset.

Luckily this was the start of our turn, so I can screw around the RNG a little by moving people in different orders.  This even has the benefit of changing the levels we gain:

And hey, not terrible. Fee’s is actually unambiguously better, and Lester’s is  about equal.  And I also, because I’m not a total moron, remember to park Dermott near the front lines where his Charisma skill can amp up Johan’s accuracy.  Okay, big guy, care to give it another go?

Much better. The Brave Axe alone turns him from the worst unit in the army to the like, second or third worst. And now, with the enemy exposed and bereft of their leader, His Lordship takes the front lines.

… Okay, I mean, not very dramatic, woulda been cooler if you’d slain your enemy, but you didn’t get hit. I’ll take it. End turn!

Fortunately, Hand Axes are not super accurate.  And in this chokepoint, most of them can’t even reach us. A few errant swings later, we are up to bat again.

You know, it’s kind of telling that they’re all getting levels I would have been perfectly happy to see in their parents, and yet I’m still somehow disappointed. We’ve barely started this generation and I’m already spoiled.

End turn. I suppose. The enemy… erm…

Well, they all go after Oifey, and they cannot hit him.  Note their chance to hit. It’s zero.  So… I’m not sure what’s up there. Let’s… let’s just finish this up.

See? You can do it if you try, Lester! Now, the map is basically over. I basically just hang out awhile, letting Arthur finally catch up for his own talk with Seliph.  

Arthur: The name’s Arthur. I came here from Silesse.

Seliph: Wait, so you are that Arthur fellow? I’ve heard of how you have been aiding us so far. Thank you so much!

(“I heard you defeated two enemies and then spent the rest of the map slowly walking. My deepest gratitude!”)

Arthur: Eh, it was no big deal.

Seliph: You are capable of wielding magic, yes? That’s truly impressive. I’m almost envious!

Arthur: My mother was a talented war-mage…but I’ve still got a lot to learn, myself.  

Seliph: We all do, do we not? So long as we all fight together, though, perhaps we still truly can change our world. After all, that’s what brought us here today.

Arthur: Yeah… you’re right. My power’s at your disposal, sir. I’ll give my all to aid the cause. I’m glad we could finally meet, Lord Seliph.  

And then have Seliph finally run up and re-take Isaach.  

Info Master: Indeed, and ecstatic to see you to boot! Thanks to you, Lord Seliphk we know that at long last, Isaach shall have its freedom!

Seliph: Thank you, sir, but the effort isn’t mine along. I could never have come so far without the support of the common man.  

(If you call them ‘the common man’, you may be a bit of a classist. Maybe try to work on that, Selly.)

Seliph: You’ve all supported me from the beginning. I likely wouldn’t be here if not for you!

Info Master: Fate is a funny thing, isn’t it, sir? Just twenty years ago, our late king had the utmost trust in your grandfather’s wisdom. Then your father came to protect Prince Shanan, and now the prince has guided you to adulthood. Perhaps fate has bound Isaach and Chalphy as one…

Seliph: Isaach is the only home I’ve ever known, and Prince Shanan is like a brother to me.  I pray our friendship lasts the rest of our lives.

Info Master: Lord Seliph, you are the rightful heir to House Belhalla and the throne of Grannvale.  Not a soul alive in Isaach, nor in the rest of the world, can doubt this. We beg of you! Raise the banner of justice high, march on Belhalla, and reclaim your true throne!

(“Well, sort of. I don’t think you actually have the right magic blood. But it’s not like you’re going to run into any waifs who should be doing the job instead!”)

Now. You may be wondering why I was so adamant we take Isaach when there was another castle off to the west we could have been going after.  And the answer is: Julia can now have a conversation with Seliph. Let’s see that.

Seliph: Actually, I have something for you. I found this in Isaach castle.

Julia: What is…?

Seliph: It’s a light magic tome called Nosferatu.  You can wield these, yes?

Julia: Yes… I’m able to use light magic.

Seliph: Excellent! Hopefully you’ll now have an easier time protecting yourself in combat.

Julia: Thank you, Lord Seliph… thank you so much…

And with that, Julia gets a weapon! The only one she will ever need, even! See (and of course the game doesn’t tell you this), which castle you take alters what weapon she gets. If you take Johalvier’s castle, Sophara, you get her Deirdre’s old Aura tome. You might remember Aura as being very powerful, but also very heavy and largely useless.  As for Nosferatu, it isn’t as strong, but it’s considerably lighter and with Julia’s excellent magic and (unlike Deirdre) access to Pursuit for double attacking, she’ll still be doing enough damage to take out most anything she fights.

Oh, and any damage it does to an enemy, she absorbs to heal herself. 

That’s right: the mysterious waif just became a tank.  

Now, all that’s left to do is kill Dannan. And he, like Chagall before him, forgot to bring a ranged weapon to the party. So I take a little time, liberate a village, and wait to feed him to the suddenly unstoppable Julia. Village?

Grim Gritty Girl: Thanks to you lot, Isaach’s free from the Empire at last, but the rest of the world’s still in a very dark place… all across Jugdral, they’re waiting for you to rise up and defeat the Empire! Please, I’m begging you… you’ve gotta make it to Grannvale soon!

Neat. Lana gains a level, too!

Well, not up to her mom’s exacting standards, but she’s already gotten more magic than Ethlyn ever did. I’ll allow it. And now, time for Julia’s first murder and the end of the map.

(Bitch, she’s your princess. The game hasn’t said it yet, but we know she is. Show some respect.)

And in one round of combat, she almost completely destroys him (she did proc Adept, so she hit him three times instead of two), and gains a big-person level. So far, so good. One more turn should do it!

Welcome to the team, Julia. You’re not really one of us until you’ve killed a sentient being.  (I know that Lana hasn’t killed anyone on screen, but we all know what she gets up to at night.) Seliph drops in on Rivough Castle, and we’re all set.

(You can go home, Lewyn. We have your book, and that’s all we need from you.)

Lewyn: Yeah… I only just got back now. Look, Seliph, are you aware that right now, the world’s at a critical turning point?

Seliph: Hm? No… I’m afraid not.  

(Teenagers don’t follow the news, Lewyn.)

Lewyn: It’s been fifteen years since Arvis conquered Jugdral and united it as the Grannvale Empire. Honestly, for awhile at first it wasn’t all that bad. In the empire’s dawn, Emperor Arvis sought to bind his nation using only the strictures of law. It was strict and constraining, but we got a few good years of peace out of it. But obviously he changed his mind. A few years back, as if by magic, the Empire turned into that oppressive force we all know and love today. Even worse… the ancient heretics of the Loptyr Order have arisen from the shadows once more and raised influence across the land. Their murderous rituals have returned with them, and all across Jugdral they abduct children to sacrifice in droves to resurrect their fell god. All attempts to resist are crushed and met with brutal executions or enslavement. It couldn’t be more plain that they seek to return Jugdral to the days of that ancient abomination, the Loptyr Empire.

Seliph: This cannot be happening! I’ve heard rumors saying the same, but… never did I think they could be more than mere rumor…

Lewyn: By the look of it, Isaach hasn’t had it quite as bad as most. Dannan’s two sons, at least, refused to follow through on the child hunts. And of course there’s been people trying to rebel against the Empire left, right, and center, but they were all scattered and disorganized.  Before you, none have ever posed a proper threat. They were all swiftly crushed before they could so much as blink. Jugdral needs a savior. It needs a man to unite behind. And I’m sure that man is you, Seliph. You’re the only one who stands a chance.

Seliph: Hold on a moment! Are you sure of this? A savior would require power that I sorely lack…

Lewyn: Chalk it up to duty, Seliph. You’re the eldest child of Empress Deirdre. That makes you the elder brother to Crown Prince Julius.

(“And the fact that the prince is named Julius should not suggest in any way that Julia is connected to the royal family. Er, you haven’t checked her stat screens, right?”)

Lewyn: You’re the one true heir to Saint Heim. Your destiny is to unite the power of the Crusaders of this era and free the world from evil’s grip.

Seliph: But I...

Lewyn: Trust me, you really do have what it takes. Your true power and potential sleeps within you. That is, the sacred blood of the Crusader Baldur. Once you get your holy blade, Tyrfing, not even the heavens will be able to stand in your way!

Seliph: But I-

Lewyn: Sorry, Seliph, but that’s how the gods will it.

(I hate to take Lewyn’s side on this, Seliph, but if you really didn’t want to free the world, you shouldn’t have let him talk over you so much.)

Lewyn: You’re Sigurd’s son. The son of a man who fate led to a brutal end. The fulfillment of his dying wishes and his final quest falls to you.

(Pretty sure his final wish was to just not be burned to death.)

Lewyn: You can’t afford to doubt yourself now. You understand, Seliph?

Seliph: Y-yes… yes. I do. If this is fate and the will of the gods, then so be it. I will do my duty.

Lewyn: There actually isn’t a single absolute fate, nor is there just one person it all hinges upon.

(THEN WHY’D YOU GO ON ABOUT IT FOR TWENTY MINUTES JUST NOW?!)

Lewyn: As obtuse as that sounds, trust me, one day it’ll make sense.

(LIAR.)

Lewyn: Sigurd left behind so much to help you on your quest.

(“Though not the really good sword.”)

Lewyn: Most importantly, the many friendships he forged in his life. Me, for instance.

(GO AWAY.)

Lewyn: Brave youths from all over are already lining up to join your cause, all guided by Sigurd’s kindness.

Seliph: My father won the love and trust of so many people, from all walks of life. I can only pray that in time I’ll prove worthy of his legacy.

Lewyn: You’ll be fine. Anyway, to business. Our immediate goal is to reach Leonster. The son of Quan, your father’s closest friend, raised his own rebellion only to suffer severe losses. He’s in pretty urgent need of backup. I know you’ve had no time to rest, but we need to get going as soon as possible.

(Wait, weren’t you just there? You… you didn’t help? You ran down, explicitly didn’t help, and then ran back here to make me do it for you? Dick.)

Lewyn: For now, at least, we can leave Isaach in the care of its citizens. Odds are we’ll run into Prince Shanan on our way.

(Wait, I thought Shanan was off in the middle of the Yied Desert…… fuck it’s going to be a sand map, isn’t it. We’re going to a sand map.)

Seliph: Understood!

And that’s that. First map done, and now we’re off to Leonster to meet Quan’s son Leif (you may recall him being mentioned by name a few times back when he was an infant. He’s beefed up somewhat since then, thankfully) for what is definitely going to feel like an eternity.

See you next week in… *sigh* in the Yied Desert. Again. 

Resets: Up to an even 20. Johan’s intro to our army has not been the best.

Part 17

#Let's play fire emblem #let's play fire emblem four #Genealogy of the Holy War #Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War #lp #my writing #let's play #FE4 #Seliph is rocking out

[trustyourpartner]

so a while back i tripped over and then fell in love with @cafecliche‘s yuri on ice fics, and then while i was checking out her tumblr i found out that she co-writes the bridge podcast with @alextriestousetheinternet, and i was like “oceanic eldritch horror alternate history with lesbians? sign me up!” and binge-listened to it all in like two days. and then i started writing this. at this point it’s probably going to waste away in my wips folder because i have so many other projects i’m working on, but i thought i’d let the stuff i have written see the light of day? so. enjoy.

The labels are nearly worn off of the switchboard at this point, by decades of fingers sliding over the words on their lazy way to the keys and buttons and knobs, but Viktor doesn't need the labels to boot up the broadcasting system. He could do this in his sleep by now; undoubtedly has, at some point over the last several years, during one of the periods when the coffeemaker was acting up, or maybe on a particularly gloomy day where the iron gray sky bled into the sea, turning the world outside the window into one huge dome of half-light, broken only by the long line of the highway stretching over the waves.

He waits for the static to clear from his headset, then takes a swig of water from the bottle on the floor and switches the microphone on.

"Good afternoon, travelers," he says. The chipper tone isn't even ironic, at this point; just a reflex. "This is Viktor broadcasting from Watchtower Eight, your halfway marker on the journey across the Transcontinental Bridge. It's just a few minutes until the top of the hour, but I think we can get a head start on our traffic report. Current Bridge conditions are the same as usual, which means—" here he leans forward to glance out the window again, just to be sure "—no traffic near Watchtower Eight. So all of you nonexistent drivers will have a pleasant cruise across this particular bit of the Atlantic."

A bright chime bursts out of the tinny intercom speakers on the console, and the light labeled Inter-Tower Channel flashes green. Viktor flips the switch that connects his personal headset to the public frequency.

"Fucking moron," is Yuri Plisetsky's greeting, somewhat obscured by the normal static from the line. "There is literally never any traffic, Viktor. You don't have to do your annoying-ass reports."

"Good to hear from you too, Yura," Viktor says. "How are things over at Eleven?"

"Dead. There is nothing here. Oh, no, actually, a seagull brained itself on the signal beam this morning, and I got sent up to chuck its body into the sea. It's the most exciting thing that's happened in months."

Which probably isn't true, Viktor thinks, but he'd believe that it's the most exciting thing that can be broadcast on the airwaves. The intercom chimes again, and a new voice chimes in.

"Maybe the seagull was just bored out of its head," the new voice—Viktor has to think for a second to place it as Leo, from Watchtower One, all the way back on the American coast—says. "The ones back here just try to steal my lunch."

"And how is the ground traffic on your end, Leo?" Viktor asks, so that he can at least sort of pretend to be doing his job.

"Two skateboarders practicing their grinds on the guardrail," Leo reports. "For the record, this is inadvisable. It's a long drop, kiddos."

"'Kiddos'," Yuri scoffs. "How old are you again, Iglesia?"

"Older than you!" Leo says.

"Ah well," Viktor says. "I'm afraid that's it for our afternoon traffic report. So, listeners who may or may not exist, I'm afraid I'll take my leave for now. Lunch won't make itself!"

He leaves Yuri and Leo to their bickering and ends his broadcast. The equipment makes a shuddery, wheezy sound when he powers it down, but Viktor's not terribly worried about it. He's fairly sure everything in this Watchtower could survive a war. It might have already. He doesn't know about that, but he does know better than to ask. He's been threatened more than once for snooping in the Archives, and not by his supervisor, but by strange people who called his personal cell phone and whispered reprimands that sent shivers up his spine. Never mind the fact that he hadn't charged his cell phone in years, or that he didn't get reception in the middle of the Atlantic.

The spiral staircase that leads down to the main floor is situated in the gap between the broadcasting room and the guest cabins. The steps rattle under Viktor's feet. He passes Georgi on the second floor, tinkering with something in the ceiling—hopefully the vents, because none of the crew cabins have been getting decent air circulation in months. Viktor ignores him and continues down to the first floor, turning into the kitchen. Yakov is sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and a dour expression.

"Vitya," he says, "how many times do I need to tell you to do your damn job?"

Viktor waves him off with a lazy sweep of his hand. "There's nobody to make traffic," he says, "and nobody to hear the traffic report. Quit being such a fusspot, old man."

Yakov harrumphs into his coffee, but doesn't respond; this is an argument he and Viktor have had dozens of times over the last few years. "As long as you do your other job," he says.

"Yes, calm down, I'm going to feed Makka now," he says. "Where's the bucket?"

"It's outside the containment area," Yakov says. "Georgi filled it earlier. Honestly, Vitya, that stuff reeks."

"Makkachin likes it!" Viktor says. "I'll get going. I'm sure he can smell his food already."

He takes the stairs down two at a time: past the Archives in Submare One, the storage rooms in Submare Two, all the way down to Submare Three. This far below the water, the walls creak and groan with the shifting waves. There are no portholes—best not to think about what's outside, Yakov had said, on Viktor's first day—but even so Viktor's bones ache with the knowledge that the sunlight is dim down here. The rivets hold steady, but Viktor can still imagine them shaking loose, the walls buckling inward, crushing the Watchtower like a tin can.

Viktor shakes it off when he reaches the vault door in Submare Three. He taps in the twelve-digit code on the keypad with one hand and picks up the bucket of severed fish heads with the other. When the lock beeps, he presses his thumb and all of his fingers against the scanner in turn; only then do the hydraulics hiss as the door unlocks with an ominous clunk. Despite the thickness of the steel, the door opens easily at Viktor's touch.

The vault door opens up into the containment area: a huge circular room that takes up nearly all of the lowest level of the Watchtower. Despite this, the only floor is a narrow metal walkway around the edge, just over a foot wide. The rest of the chamber is open water: deep, dark, and washing back and forth in small waves, despite the fact that there are no direct water lines between it and the ocean outside.

"Makkachin!" Viktor trills. "Where's my good boy? Did you miss me?"

He drops the bucket and claps his hands over his ears: just in time, as a hellish SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEE echoes through the chamber. The water boils. Three long, brown tentacles, each nearly as thick as Viktor's thigh and easily long enough to brush the towering ceiling, burst through from below, the suckers pulsing. One of the tentacles begins slithering over the walkway by Viktor's feet, slinking, searching.

"I've got your dinner here, boy," Viktor says, and reaches into the bucket. He picks up a fish head and tosses it, watching as one of the other tentacles snaps down lightning-quick to snatch it out of the air and drag it below the water. "Is it nummies?" Viktor asks. "Nummy fish for the good Makkachin?"

The resulting chainsaw-on-chalkboard noise doesn't make Viktor's ears bleed, thankfully. The seeking tentacle near his feet winds around his leg, slick mottled brown, and Viktor leans down to give it a gentle pat.

"I missed you too, buddy," Viktor says. "Open wide, okay? Food incoming!"

He throws the rest of the bucket's contents out into the water and sits on the edge of the walkway while Makkachin's tentacles pull the fish bits into the depths. He's just tall enough that he can point his toes and tap the surface of the water with the soles of his shoes, so he does. During his first month at the Watchtower he taught himself Morse code in a fit of over-enthusiasm, so he uses it now, tapping and swishing the water, a secret message just for him and Makka: tap-swish-tap-tap-swish-swish-swish-swish-tap-tap.

Makkachin probably doesn't know Morse code. So maybe it's just a message for Viktor. Fitting.

"I'm sorry it's so lonely down here," he says. "I don't mean to stay upstairs so long. I'll come visit more often."

Makkachin gurgles.

"Yeah, just me and you, buddy," Viktor says, and reaches out absently to scratch a passing tentacle.

--

Before he’d been a Watchtower crewman, Viktor Nikiforov had been a legend.

He’d been on the top of the figure skating world for nearly a decade. His undefeated streak spanned five years: five years of gold at the Grand Prix, at Nationals, at Euros, at Worlds. Multiple world records tucked under his belt. Two Olympic titles. Russia’s hero, they called him; a god among men. Undefeated, unattainable, untouchable. His shadow from atop the podium was monstrous in the flashes of the cameras.

He’d just won his fifth Worlds gold in Boston when the kennel called. His dog—Makkachin—had just died. In his sleep, the woman said. Surely he hadn’t been in any pain. A gentle death for a gentle dog.

Viktor hadn’t seen Makkachin for nearly three days before he’d actually left.

So he’d told his coach that he was going to rent a car and drive back to Europe. Time to clear his head, he’d said, and the coach had agreed. The Transcontinental Bridge still had a lingering reputation as a tourist attraction, albeit one that Viktor had experienced before. Even half-abandoned it was a marvel of engineering. There were hotels, restaurants, museums, little Bridge-side towns with kitschy mom-and-pop shops. Viktor had ignored these; for just under a full day of driving it had been only him and the ocean. He’d driven and driven and then stopped for the night at Checkpoint Eight, the Transcontinental Hotel: the pride of the Bridge, a glittering palace over the sea with a glass ballroom, fresh-turned silk sheets on every bed, and a string quartet that turned sea shanties into sweeping waltzes for guests to float along to under the stars.

He’d emailed the Russian Skating Federation his resignation notice the next morning. By that afternoon he’d unpacked his single carry-on in one of the empty crew cabins in Watchtower Eight, his handful of spare shirts and underwear tucked neatly inside the chipboard drawers, the concrete walls bare, the fresh cotton sheets scratching his bare skin.

And…well. Why would Viktor ever leave?

--

“Good afternoon, Bridge travelers,” Viktor says. “It’s another slow day here by Watchtower Eight, and so, your traffic report: there is no traffic. I’m sure if you questionably-extant listeners wait for a few minutes, one of my colleagues from elsewhere on the Bridge will chime in with commentary.”

Viktor waits for a beat, then repeats himself in Russian and in French, just because he can.

The intercom beeps, and Christophe’s voice comes through, amused and slurred—likely hungover, or maybe just being Chris. “Your accent is horrendous,” he says by way of greeting.

“Good afternoon, Christophe,” Viktor says. “How are things?”

“Oh, fine, fine,” Chris says. “Light traffic down here at Fifteen, come stop by the Gold Doubloon casino for a fun night of games and revelry, gamble responsibly: don’t wager anything you aren’t willing to lose, don’t play for anything you aren’t willing to live with, et cetera. Word on the wire is that there’s a big closure down by Checkpoint Nine—do you know anything about that?”

“Hmm? No.” Viktor absently shuffles the stack of letters from mainland headquarters. He should probably read them at some point.

“Ah, there’s a little Bridge-side town that’s closed its access road. The Travel Agency sent out a notice that the road won’t reopen, so drivers should plan their stops around it, what’s it called…Hatsetsu?”

Viktor frowns. The name tickles at the edge of his memory, but nothing concrete comes to mind. Possibly he just remembers driving past the sign, if it’s really so close to his own domain. “Any idea how the residents are going to get around?”

“Well, that’s just the thing,” Chris says. His voice is low, now, conspiratorial, as though they weren’t having this discussion over public airwaves. They could be huddled around a campfire, sharing ghost stories. “You didn’t hear this from me, but a little birdy”—meaning, Viktor thinks, Phichit—“says the town’s abandoned. Everyone vanished overnight. Poof.”

Before he can respond, someone else on the Inter-Tower line squeaks out a small “Ah.” This is followed by a gust of air and a smacking sound. Viktor thinks, suddenly, of a small child clapping a hand over their own mouth, afraid to be caught listening.

“Hello?” he says.

“Oh,” the new voice says, strangely muffled, and then clearer: “Oh. Uh. This is Watchtower Nine—sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Nine!” Chris says. “I don’t recognize your voice.”

“Oh, yes,” the man says. “I’m new. I just started here.”

Viktor smiles. It’s been a while since any of the towers have gotten new crewmen. “What’s your name?” he asks, propping his chin on the desk.

“I’m…I’m Yuuri Katsuki,” the voice says. “It’s nice to, uh, meet you?”

“Welcome to the Bridge, Yuuri,” Viktor says.

Yuuri—laughs? It’s hard to tell over the crackling line. “I’ve lived here all my life,” he says, “but thank you.”

“Your whole life, huh?” Chris says. “Very interesting. Not many Bridge natives come to work at the Watchtowers. What brought you to us?”

Yuuri is silent for a few heartbeats too many. “…change of scenery,” he says finally.

“Well, we’re a good bunch,” Viktor says, over Chris’s questioning noise. “And Chris will only bite if you ask nicely.”

“It takes more than a bite to scare me away,” Yuuri says.

Despite the static noises, Chris’s purr of “Is that so?” comes through crystal clear.

And Viktor makes possibly the most disgusting noise he has ever made in his life, like a pig with a cold, directly into the microphone. He hears another few sets of tinny laughter, probably other Watchtower radio hosts lurking on the line, and over that Yuuri sputtering, “No! I didn’t—not like that!”

“Welcome!” Sara says through the ruckus. “Once Chris has hit on you, you’re really part of the family.”

Viktor’s own laughter trails off a bit at that. He doesn’t know Sara well—mostly snippets of information passed from Mila or Yuri in conversation—but he knows enough to think about the reason she’s on the Bridge at all, running from home and a brother who refused to let her out of his sight. She’d come because she’d had nowhere else, and then she’d stayed.

Family might be too strong a word for what they are, a collection of outcasts strung across thousands of miles. Viktor already knows he will never see most of these peoples’ faces. But after all, it’s not as though he has anyone else.

“Vitya!” Yakov’s shout echoes up the stairs.

“Oh, dear,” Viktor says. “My supervisor’s calling—I have to go. It’s been a pleasure, Yuuri.”

“Ah—likewise, Viktor,” Yuuri says. Viktor indulges himself in a lazy smile as he powers down the equipment.

It’s not until after he’s fed Makkachin that he realizes nobody ever told Yuuri his name.

--

Here was a secret that Viktor had sworn he would take to his grave long before he came to the Bridge: the podium was his least favorite place to be.

The rest of it had a certain thrill to it. The routines, of course; the costumes, extravagant and beautiful and designed to make him irresistible and ever-so-slightly inhuman; the plane rides to faraway countries, the sponsors and the fancy dinners. The hotels with silk sheets and crystal chandeliers that glinted like little chips of stolen starlight.

The podium, though—somewhere along the way it became a pedestal, or a display shelf. He looked good and he worked hard to stay there until he thought maybe his feet would fuse to the top spot and he’d be frozen there forever, the rest of the skating world clawing at his ankles, tearing at each other for a chance to send him crashing down.

He was Viktor Nikiforov, the legend. The singular. There was no room at the top for anyone else.

Perhaps the move to sea level did some good. But now here he was, sitting at the top of the Watchtower, just him and the radio and the empty road.

#callie writes #the bridge #yuri on ice #CUT BC I WROTE...WAY MORE THAN I THOUGHT I DID #oh well

[love-y-o-u-3000]

Irene Adler maybe says she is a lesbian, yeah... does it actually mean anything though, if she shows signs of being attracted to a man? How many people say they are lesbians and thirst for Martin’s dick anyway? Some of them are the same ones who claim that Irene is a lesbian and would never be with a man because she said she is gay!!1!! But it’s the same fucking thing unless you are a massive hypocrite. If you can say you are a lesbian but would fuck Martin then don’t be offended when people suggest that despite claiming she’s gay, Irene was unfortunately written like a lesbian with exception. Because Moffat sucks. It’s an awful trope and this idea that all the lesbians are like that exists only in the heads of men who mistake their disgusting wanking fantasies for reality. Anyway, by s4 nobody remembers that she is supposed to be a lesbian anyway. 

TLD? John asking Sherlock about passionate nights with her and calling him a moron because Irene is out there and she likes him and he is doing nothing to be with her. He evidently forgot that Irene had told him she is gay. There’s also nothing to suggest he has ever cared or loved Sherlock romantically, you don’t hear it in his voice, he doesn’t even look jealous to me, at all, sorry. He fucking calls him MATE. Which happened only twice before, once he made that super weird face and the second time it might have happened in Sherlock’s MP. That scene is really, really horrible. Plus, Sherlock doesn’t say ANYTHING to contradict John’s words. In fact, he lies to him (it’s probably not even his birthday) and I doubt that thing about “just texting“ was true but anyway. Because why did he get so defensive, why did he lie that he doesn’t text her if it means nothing? This disgusts me and I hate it and Moffat because he low key made it sound 100% canon, but then...

TFP. John suggests that it’s Irene, the coffin is prepared for, the one who loves Sherlock but Sherlock says that it’s ridiculous because... he suddenly has arguments to use, she is suddenly married. funny how he didn’t bring it up an episode earlier when John, his great bro, suggested that he and Irene should get some. Not to mention that he played her theme and it’s when Eurus, thanks to her mutant abilities, could hear he had sex. I ignore any and all johnlock readings of this scene because that theme has nothing to do with John, in fact, almost nothing on this show has anything to do with John any more it seems.

The point is that, nothing Moffat writes is about Johnlock because everything he writes is about ad/ock. 

[massivedrickhead]

One More Year: Chapter 17

I’m so so so so so sorry it has been so long since I last updated! I had a really shitty mental health week and then I visited a friend and couldn’t write and then the weekend after I was too busy playing video games! I hope this chapter makes up for the big gap. Please review if you can it would make my tiny heart happy.

Fanfiction.net link

I do not own Pitch Perfect or any of its characters

Chapter 17

Lauren Mitchell went into labour dressed as Princess Leia. She was on her way to a Halloween party with her new husband John Mitchell when her water broke. In a blind panic, John drove them to the hospital. He was dressed as Han Solo.

She gave birth to the tiny Beca Mitchell at 11:00pm on October 31st. Her hair was still in Princess Leia buns.

Until she was four years old, Beca’s parents dressed as these two characters on Halloween. They would watch Empire Strikes Back, because it was John’s favourite, and eat birthday cake.

On her fifth birthday, her parents just wore their normal clothes. They still had cake, but they didn’t watch Star Wars. Beca thought that the birthday felt different, but she couldn’t figure out why. She was still too young.

Her sixth birthday was the last one they’d spend as a family. No costumes, no Star Wars. As she blew out the candles, Beca remembered wishing that her parents would stop fighting so much.

She’d snuck out of bed that night and saw her dad sleeping on the sofa.

She kept hearing the word divorce, but didn’t know what it meant.

Their lawyer came over a lot, and he always ruffled Beca’s hair and gave her a sad smile when she left.

She spent a lot of time at her Grandmother’s.

Then, late in the night on November 30th, 6 year old Beca woke up to a shouting match between her parents.

“Goddammit, you can’t just fucking leave!” Her dad yelled. Beca hovered on the stairs, afraid to go down.

“Actually, I can,” her Mom replied. “The divorce is final now. It’s all done. I can do whatever I want.”

“And what about your kid?”

“My kid? I think you’ll find she’s your kid too,” her mom spat back. Beca felt her face turn red. They were fighting about her. It made her stomach hurt.

“And you don’t think you should stick around for her?” Her dad said.

She heard her mom sigh. “I can’t. I can’t… be here anymore. I’m not the mom type, I’ve never been the mom type.”

Beca was confused. How could she not be a mom type? She was her mom, wasn’t she? Sure, she didn’t look like the other moms in the playground. She didn’t wear sensible shoes, or boring skirts, and her hair changed colour every few weeks. But she was still her mom.

“Well too bad,” her dad said. His voice sounded weird. Like he was trying not to cry. “It doesn’t matter if you’re not the mom type, you are a mom. I know this wasn’t how you planned your life, but we have a daughter and she needs you. You can’t just run off to Europe!”

Beca felt sick again. Europe? She plucked up her courage and went down the stairs, into the kitchen where her parents were arguing.

She saw her mom’s suitcase. Her dad was still in his pyjamas and his hair was sticking up at the back.

“Mommy?” She said, tentatively.

Her dad put his head in his hands.

“Go back to bed, Becs,” her mom said, trying not to look at her.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” she said. “Just… Away for a bit.”

“Is it because of me?” Beca asked, her lip trembling.

“No,” her mom sighed, crouching down to her level. “I just have to go away.”

“But why?” Beca asked, tears spilling quickly down her cheeks. “I’ll be good, I promise. I won’t be loud anymore. And,” she sucked in a breath, struggling to get her words out without crying. “And I won’t bug you when you’re reading or painting.”

“This isn’t anything to do with you,” her mom said, tears in her own eyes now. “I won’t be gone for long, I promise.” She kissed her on the forehead. Then she stood up and put a hand on her suitcase.

“I can’t miss my flight,” she said, her voice quiet. “Be good, Beca.”

Beca didn’t understand. How could this be happening?

“Lauren,” her dad said, standing up from the kitchen table. “Please don’t do this.”

“I have to,” she said.

She turned and walked out. She walked down the hallway, dragging her suitcase behind her. When Beca heard the front door open, she ran out of the kitchen.

She clung to her mom’s leg, sobbing and begging.

“Beca let go,” her mom said, her voice breaking.

“No!”

“Beca,” her mom tried to pry her hands off, “let go.”

“NO!”

A strong pair of hands pulled her arms from around her mom’s leg then held her tightly around the waist.

She kicked and thrashed and screamed but her dad just held her tightly, watching as his ex-wife got into her car and drove away.

It was 12 years to the day that her mom left, and Beca really wasn’t looking forward to going into school.

It had been just over a week since her date under the stars with Chloe, but they hadn’t spent a lot of time together since. They were both cramming hard for their midterms, so they spent a lot of time in their rooms studying. They messaged each other a lot, but apart from sitting together at lunch at school, they hadn’t really seen each other. Chloe had thought Beca had seemed quieter than usual, but she put it down to school stress.

Beca had not been having a good week. The closer it got to the anniversary of her mom leaving, the more she’d withdrawn into herself. Anytime that wasn’t spent studying was spent reliving that night in her head. Her dad had tried to talk to her but she always just said she was fine and he never pushed her to say more.

The one good thing that had happened was that she’d gotten a message from Chloe on the night before the anniversary.

Chloe: Hey, so I was wondering if you maybe wanted to be, like, facebook official? I know it’s lame but I don’t want to feel like we’re hiding our relationship. Obviously if you’re not comfortable with it we don’t have to. xxx

Beca smiled as she text back.

Beca: I’d love to :) Just so you know though, this means that kids at school are gonna find out. They were pretty shitty to me when I came out, and they might be the same with you. xxx

Chloe: That’s okay, I don’t really care what the kids at school think. I want to boast about having a hot girlfriend xxx

Beca: A hot girlfriend, huh? Are you dating someone else and not telling me? xxx

Chloe: Well, duh ;) xxx

Beca couldn’t stop the grin she felt when Chloe changed her relationship status on facebook, and the notification popped up prompting her to do the same.

When she pulled into the parking lot the next morning, she saw Benji and Jesse talking to Chloe, Aubrey and Stacie nearby. The two groups had started hanging out together since Beca and Chloe started dating, and Beca suspected that Jesse secretly had a crush on Aubrey.

“Hey,” Chloe said, when Beca joined the group. She gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before linking their hands together. “Is this okay?” She asked quietly.

Beca nodded but couldn’t stop nervously glancing towards the crowds of students, waiting for one of them to say something.

But none of them did, and she got through the school day without an incident.

Well… Almost.

She had been told off by several teachers for not paying attention, and by the end of the day she was in a pretty bad mood. She’d been thinking about her mom all day and hadn’t been able to focus on anything. Chloe had provided a welcome distraction in the morning and at lunch, but during classes Beca was alone with her thoughts.

She’d had to stop off by her locker to get something at the end of the day so she told Chloe she’d meet her outside. She was going to drive her home so they could have a little bit of time together.

At her locker, she overheard a conversation between Hagan and some of his friends.

“Dude, have you heard that Chloe Beale is a lesbian now?” One of his friends said.

“What? No way.”

“Yeah, she’s dating Beca Mitchell, I saw them holding hands at lunch.”

“How did Beca Mitchell get the hottest girl in school?”

“She’s not that hot.”

“Are you kidding me? Since she like, quit eating or whatever, her body is amazing.”

Beca felt herself burning with anger.

“I heard she’s bisexual, not a lesbian,” one of them said.

“What’s the difference?”

“It means she bangs dudes too.”

“So she doesn’t eat food, but she eats dicks and pussy,” Hagan said, laughing. “What a slu-” He was cut off by Beca tackling him. Caught off guard, Hagan stumbled and fell to the ground, Beca on top of him, throwing punches. She punched the floor first and then her fist connected with his jaw once before she was pulled off by his friends.

“You fucking piece of shit,” Beca yelled, struggling to break free from the grip of Hagan’s friends. “Don’t you dare talk about Chloe like that.”

Hagan laughed. “Damn, Mitchell, that was quite a punch. If you weren’t three feet tall, that might have hurt.”

“What shall we do to her, Hagan?” One of his friends asked.

Chloe checked her watch and frowned. How long does it take someone to grab a book from their locker?

She left Beca’s truck and headed back in the school to look for her.

It took her two minutes to reach Beca’s locker and when she saw what was going on she almost screamed.

“We don’t do anything,” Hagan said. “You’re lucky I don’t hit girls, Mitchell.”

“I’ll hit a girl,” one of his friends said. “She’s not even really a girl anyway.”

“Shut up,” Hagan said. “Let her go.”

“Fine,” his friend said. “But just in case she thinks about fucking with us again.” He slammed his fist into Beca’s stomach and she groaned and doubled-over.

“No!” Chloe shouted, rushing towards her.

Beca was on her knees grimacing while Hagan was pushing his friend into a locker.

“Don’t do that again, you fucking moron!” He said, dragging his friend by the jacket and pulling him towards the door.

“Beca?”

“I’m okay,” Beca muttered as Chloe helped her to her feet.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Chloe said. “I can’t believe he did that, what happened?”

“They… They were saying stuff. About you,” Beca said, as they left the school and walked across the parking lot.

“What?”

“They were making jokes about you… not eating.” Beca winced as she climbed into the truck, pain radiating across her stomach.

“And then they grabbed you?” Chloe asked, getting into the passenger side.

“No,” Beca said. She started the truck and drove away from the school. She was still furious and her hands shook on the steering wheel. “I wasn’t going to let him talk about you like that.”

“So, what, you hit him?”

Beca didn’t answer, she just clenched her fists around the wheel. Pain flared up in her left fist, which was red from where she’d punched the floor, but she didn’t care. It helped her focus.

She couldn’t stop thinking about after her mom had left and the kids on the playground had teased her. One day, a boy in the grade above her wouldn’t shut up. He kept saying that her mom didn’t love her and that she was an accident and she finally snapped. She’d tackled him to the ground and started hitting him. He hit her back, and soon they were being prized apart by teachers. Beca had a bloody nose and he had a split lip. She was given detention and her dad had yelled at her for almost an hour, but she didn’t feel bad about it. She felt good. And scrapping with the kids who called her name soon became common place. It was a good outlet, and the other kids began to see it almost like a game. She never threw kicks or punches anymore, it was all just play fighting, but it helped her get her anger out. It wasn’t until her dad had yelled that her mom wasn’t likely to want to come back to a daughter who fought all the time that she stopped doing it all together. It was then that she started withdrawing from herself, and refusing to speak.

“Beca?”

“Yeah,” Beca said, snapping out of her thoughts, “I hit him.”

“Stop the car,” Chloe said.

“What?”

“Stop the car, Beca. Please.”

Beca pulled over when she could, and turned the engine off.

“What is it?” Beca asked.

“Please… Please don’t do that again,” Chloe said.

“Do what?”

“Fight. Beca… They could have really hurt you. What if Hagan had of decided that he didn’t mind hitting women? He could have beaten the crap out of you,” Chloe said.

“But I can’t just let him say stuff like that about you,” Beca said.

“Yes you can,” Chloe said. “I don’t care what they say, Becs, I’ve heard it all before. But I don’t want you getting hurt because of it. They’re just words. They might be cruel and hurtful, but they’re still just words.”

“But-”

“But nothing. Promise me you won’t do this again, Beca. I care so much about you, I can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt,” Chloe said, reaching across to take Beca’s hand.

Beca nodded, finally feeling the anger draining out of her. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Chloe kissed her slightly bruised knuckles. “It’s okay,” she said.

“Today is kind of a shitty day,” Beca said. “November 30th, I mean. I was already in a bad mood and then hearing them say that stuff, it just made me so mad. When I was a kid I used to fight a lot, and I guess that urge has never really gone away.”

“Why is today shitty?”

“Um, my mom left 12 years ago today,” Beca said.

Chloe closed her eyes. “Shit,” she said. “I’m sorry Beca, I didn’t know.”

“That’s okay,” Beca said, brushing a strand of hair out of Chloe’s face. “No one does.”

“Can I come over?” Chloe asked.

“Sure,” Beca said. “We can take a night off from studying.”

Chloe pulled out her phone to text her mom and Beca started up the car again.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Beca said.

“Just don’t scare me again,” Chloe said, finally smiling.

#knope.we.can #one more year #bechloe #bechloe au #bechloe/high school au #bechloe/Highschool au #bechloe/hsau #hsau #beca #Beca x Chloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #Chloe #au #pitch pefect #pitch perfect fanfic #pitch perfect fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

[lilwaynelighterflick-blog]

Criminal Minds se12 ep11

0:09 Oh Oh Oh shit 0:12 If Victoria Justice and Sarah Hyland had a baby. 0:17 stupse 0:28 I would whoop,burst,fade and dust his ass. 0:35 All straight males named Kevin are douches. 0:49 There's a leg flopping off the table morons 0:53 Yes, one of my favourite things. A black woman in a position of authority 1:01 *Eddie Haskell* 😅😅😅 1:19 Suck it up bitch. 1:28 Or they can be like ya side boo. Ya check in, stay a lil while and ya check out. 1:37 DraMaTic MuuusSSic 1:52 OH MY GGGGOOOSSSHHH Spencer Reid is back 2:09 😅😅😅I just remembered SNL called Jane Lynch America's number 2 lesbian 2:30 .........He's leaving already? 2:35 I'm telling you if they get rid of fucking Dr.Reid I will burn this show to the ground. 3:30 Looks like a constellation 3:53 I miss Elle 4:24.........Jane Lynch's acting...... 4:38 You dumb fuck 4:57 Get your ass to Florida Spence 5:05 The opening credits do things to me 5:43 ...hmmm... Is this a devil worshiper thing? I can't handle that 6:24....I don't like this AT ALL!!! This could be a way for Spence to leave the show. So that he can take care of his mother. 6:57 Words to live by. 7:08 She might be suicidal... 7:24 OMG Mine too 8:48 mmmmhhhhhhmmmm Hot angry grieving widower  9:34 He's gonna remember something 10:38 She's shady 10:53.....Where are his needle tracks? This is a heroin od right? 11:29 From what? 11:58 Dude, what the what? 😫😓😲😩😌🙂 12:03 What's with the shrine? I feel like he's a satanist, I'm just getting a vibe. 12:19 Blap blap blap 12:54 Awww? 13:17 She better not bolt or do anything to upset him 13:17 Why doesn't my mom ever close the damn door? 13:21 Why you shutting the door, Spence? 14:16 Don't make that gulping noise 14:31 14:44 The unsub took it 16:04 I'm not sure how i feel about this.... 16:15 ....I bet the unsub is there 17:09 Honestly though,y'all lacking. EVERY NEW VIC IS ANOTHER LINE TO THE DRAWING, STUPIDS. 17:45 To degrade him? Because it means something to him? 17:56 Put her back in the clinic Spence. 20:09 Fucking duh you loser 21:55 Why is Diana so quiet? 22:33 Confess, get off ya chest, stay blessed. 22:58 I thought Spence was supposed to be helping? 23:09 What's that red stuff? 23:52 Once a man, twice a child. 24:01 White male, mid-late twenties,homeless?, burns on torso and arms (self inflicted), light brown hair, has parental and moral issues, loner. 24:47 Freaky looking 25:06 Deep 25:58 She's the next vic vicky victom 26:07 What the ass is that? That's not chicken. 26:12 I've never understood the whole "The eyes are the window to the soul thing" 26:15 What she says: Have a nice day. What she means: Get the fuck outta my face 26:59 I hope this isn't true. 27:07 As if I would ever step into America's Inferno, Florida. 27:43 Talk nerdy to me 28:03 OHHH SO NOW YOU NOTICE! 28:28 Does the camera man have nerves? Stop shaking! 28:37 Oh Oh Oh shit shit shit 28:44 You mean to tell me, that he didn't try to turn the door handle? 29:24 OHHHHH *I just shouted out loud and my bf told me to and I quote "Shut up like Rasshole" 29:29 Flinch, bitch. 30:21 I sometimes forget she has Alzheimers 31:43 NO it does not. 32:06 Why haven't you gone through this book Spence? 33:41 I feel so warm and fuzzy 34:08 He probably became one of those do- gooders who hand out flyers and other depressing shit. 34:20 Sooo helpful 36:06 It's "found", but I get where you're coming from. 37:25 Revelation music 37:36 I hope that isn't a cell phone 38:06 What the fuck 38:13 What the fuck 38:29 I'm out. Don't fuck with that devil shit.

#criminal minds #i am so sorry #spencer reid #jennifer lawrence is awesome #no she isn't

[samanthasroberts]

Pretty Little Liars Recap: Yes, We’re Back, You Can All Mellow TF Out Now

Well okay, a girl goes on vacation for one week and gets no internet and suddenly people freak tf out about no recap last week. Not that I blame youIm fucking hilarious. But hello, Im back so could you just like, chill for a sec?

Since service was not on my side last week, Ill be sure to touch up on points from last week in this recap. Because Im like, such a good friend. Also, last weeks episode wasnt even that good *cough, cough, like this whole show, cough* OMG who said that?

Tiffany: OMG Britney! Britney: What? You were thinking it! Tiffany: Yeah but you said it!

Last week Hanna decided shes sick of putting up with the other liars’ baby back bullshit. She knows Noel was the one who tortured her and shes here to fuck shit up. She told Caleb she was off the grid and bounced. This episode is going to be directed by Quentin Tarentino.

She told the Liars shes off to NYC, and they think thats weird. Like why would any leave Rosewood? Its so homey here! Only like 3 people have been murdered in a month! Its really on the come up. But Hannas too busy playing with her DIY murder kit to give a fuck. Did you get those murder ideas off Pinterest?

HANNAS BOARD: Murder Ideas ❤

Last week Ezra went off to South America with all the little birdies and the monkeys to try and find Nicole.

Basically, we dont know about this whole engagement thing, especially since Aria lied about that phone call. Aria says Ezra called her when he got to South America and they found hostages, but they arent sure if Nicole is one of them.

Spencer is like wow Ezra must be overwhelmed! And if Hanna was there you can bet this conversation would have happened:

HANNA: I know you can be underwhelmed, and you can be overwhelmed, but can you ever just be, like, whelmed? SPENCER: I think you can in Europe.

We found out that MD had another kid besides Charlotte and that the kid was adopted and around the same age as the Liars. They all think its Noel Kahn, but thats like, way too easy. They decide that Aria is going to look for record of the adoption while Spencer goes and spies on Noel.

Emily is going to continue to be the useless college dropout and go interview for the swim coach job at Rosewood High. Against Paige, who unfortunately reappeared in our lives last week. Maybe Paige can lend Emily Neds Declassified Interview Survival Guide.

Hanna does a dramatic reading to a videotape about how shes going to do some shit. Why does Hanna think she is competent enough to pull this shit off? Like know yourself, know your worth.

Spencer supposedly has a search engine that looks up people? Where do I get that? Is there a 3 month free trial like Apple Music, which I had to fucking download to get Frank Oceans album? Frank Ocean is the only gay man to continuously fuck me.

The gardener/detective comes by and says that Snaggle fled to France. Huh, I guess hes on vacation too. Then he hits on Spencer. Wow, he got over that unsolved case fast. She tells him its too soon because her and Caleb just broke up and he leaves her his card *cough, cough, DOUCHE, cough*.

The Coffee Girl is eating cake and Emily comes in like oh look at that! A treat. Tell me, do you like your muffin buttered? Would you like us to assign someone to butter your muffin? The cake order is for Noel Kahn and Emilys like , and Coffee Girl is like ??

Aria and that sexy motherfucker Jason meet up. Last week we learned that they def had a thing before and were like SO fucking jealous.

Jason thinks AD is still in Rosewood and that he set fire to the basement. God, Jason is better than the cops are. Aria tells Jason what they found in the basement: paperwork basically saying Jessica was a piece of shit and proof of MDs other child. Also, MD is still missing. Freeform could only afford her for 6 episodes. Sad, all love.

Jason thinks that his mom was killed for the secrets MD had and Aria convinces him to go to the courthouse with her and help her get more information. Hes hoping he gets a chance to tap that in the waiting room, so hes like, .

Hanna follows Noel to a dumpster where he throws out a trash bag, because like duh, its a fucking dumpster. Hanna decides to dumpster dive afterwards and digs through his shit, finding a phone thats broken AF but with Saras face on it. Sketch.

Emily and Paige are filling out applications in a classroom right next to each other like its a fucking standardized test. Emily is like should I lie about being arrested? and says shes never done one of these things. What? Youve never tried to be a functioning member of society before?

Also, I wouldnt lie about your criminal record. This isnt like saying youre proficient in Excel. They will background check you. Its a fucking school, not a job at Hollister.

Paige is like, dont worry, the teachers know youre a fucking psycho! and Emilys like glad they dont ask me about committing crimes, phew! Yeah, youre #blessed they dont know that shit. Paige tells Emily that shes a great person, blah blah, incessant lesbian chatter, blah.

Aria and Jason are waiting at the courthouse when Aria flashes back to the time that she and Jason slept together. Ugh we hate Aria. Anyways, it seemed like she and Jason were dating. Jason is going to Ethiopia and asks Aria to come with him. Aria is like ugh what am I gonna do in Ethiopia? Help starving people? I mean, come on, Jason. Whats with all these dudes going to third world countries for charity? I knew like, one person who did that and they were Mormon and like, spreading the word of our lord and savior Jesus Christ.

Emily finishes her interview, which she wore a flannel to. We get it, youre a lesbian. God forbid you own anything business casual. Never know when youll need to sub in for a random softball game.

Paige says she misses Emily and Emily is like yeah, I have a girlfriend but like, Im gonna dump her, but like, I have a girlfriend. But Paige knew that because she fucking stalks Emily. NBD.

Emily tells Paige that A is back and Paige is like omg tell your girlfriend! Itll make your relationship great! Is this reverse psychology?

Hanna meets her local roofie dealer and gets her drugs. Hes like youre the first girl Ive sold to. Wow, this is actually a fucking disgusting scene.

PLL WRITERS: I got it! Usually we make fun of blind people, but this time lets make light of date rape! FREEFORM: Genius.

Spencer gets Noels address from her moms campaign manager, no questions asked. Spencer and Emily go alone to Noels cabin in the woods, because, fucking duh. They realize that the cabin is in the same place that Hanna was held captive and reminds them of the bunker they were tortured in. But yeah, lets just continue breaking in alone.

There is a security camera and Spencer busts it so they can break in. Theyre snooping around and just cant seem to find the pesky evidence that he murdered and tortured people. This aint his first rodeo. I doubt hes gonna leave a fucking bloody knife in the entry way.

They find a box with a stamp on it and Spencers like You needed a stamp to get into the Kahns parties!! Wtf? Where were his parties? Vegas?

They find a flash drive, plug it into Noels computer and find the videos of him torturing them in the dollhouse. Hes planting blood on Spencer and Spencer starts crying and its a mess. Anyways, they steal the flashdrive and gtfo.

Meanwhile Aria and Jason get their number called right as the news report from South America comes up. Arias like brb, sorry about being kidnapped and all Nicole, but I got shit to do.

The lady at the desk says there is nothing she can do for Jason and Aria tells the woman his whole sob story. Any other court clerk would be like yeah, we dont care. But not this court clerk, shes a cool court clerk.

The woman is like youre lucky to have a fianc that cares so much!! Jason agrees shes special because saying actually she isnt my fianc is too much work. The woman says she will try and find something for them and will fax it by the end of the day. People still own faxes?

Spencer wants to give the tape of the torture to the police and Aria says they cant without Hanna. Spencers like Like Aria, can you pull your head out of Hannas ass for a second?

Emily finds out that Hanna is not in New York and everyone is so shocked. Like, how could she lie to us?! This never happens!

Coffee Girl comes over and Emilys like Coffee Girl says she has a break at work and wants to go to dinner. Wtf how long are your breaks? Where are you going to eat for your 15 minute break? Taco Bell?

Coffee Girl is like and Emilys like Coffee Girl made her cupcakes and is like eat darling.

EMILY: Im on an all-carb diet, Coffee Girl! God youre so stupid!

Everyone is trying to find Hanna before she does something fucking moronic. Fat chance.

Speaking of morons, Hannah blackmails Noel for Saras phone. Why does Saras phone have a selfie of her as the background? Like wtf, you couldnt like, take a picture of a flower or something? God, Sara annoys me even after her death.

Hanna crushes up the drugs like a hardened pro and puts on her totally great disguise: a baseball hat. Yeah, cause no one is going to tilt their head a little bit and figure out who the fuck that is. You have A wearing custom made masks and youre here with a fucking ball cap? What is this? Amateur hour? A center for ants?

Noel shows up to the bar and Hanna buys him a beer and drugs the fuck outta it. Casual. Hanna sits with Noel and is like

Hanna makes up a story about how she is getting questioned for Saras death and is like look I know it was you, so why dont we be each others alibi? You scratch my back, I scratch yours. Noels like see the funny thing about my back is that its located on my cock.also I actually fucking hate you.

She offers Noel the beer and hes like He manhandles Hanna to get the phone and tells her to be careful or shell end up like Sara.

NOEL: You fell victim to one of the classic blundersthe most famous of which is “never get involved in a land war in Asia”but only slightly less well-known is this: “Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line”! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha…

Spencer goes home because her moms car alarm is going offduh this shit is about to be a trap. All the lights go off because they are in a storm and shes like ah, what a perfect time to watch the videos of me being tortured.

She decides to call the police, or at least that detective guy. If she cant get a police report at least she can probs get a quickie out of it. Win-win, am I right?

Then a tree branch breaks through a window, the doors swing open, and Spencer sees someone in the doorway. She grabs a knife and the detective is there. She tells him someone is in the house and he goes off searching. She looks, and big shock, the flashdrive is missing. You had one job.

Jason and Aria are having a candlelit discussion and trying to not make it romantic. Jason would be naked like .4 seconds into a conversation, candlelit or not, with me. Just sayin.

Aria tells Jason that shes worried about her future with Ezra and Jason is like you two are meant to be!!! Is this the episode where all the jealous exes lie? Just wondering.

Aria flashbacks to Jason trying to convince her to go to Ethiopia, and shes like well, heres the thing. She took a cushy job at a publishing companyof course the one that published Ezras work. Jason figured that out and calls her on it and shes like _()_/.

Jason tells her basically if Ezra dumps her for the little hostage girl, hell be waiting for her, dick hard and all. What a guy.

Ezra finally texts and says Nicole wasnt one of the hostages and hes coming home to Rosewood. Aria is crying, so happy that there is still a helpless girl trapped by terrorists out there. Jason comes back and says that the adoption file came through except everything is blacked out.

However, they see that the judges name is on there and of course its Noels dad. Aria now thinks that Noels dad adopted MDs baby. Bold strategy cotton, lets see how it works out for them.

Emily calls Paige to talk and tells her about Noel. She invites Paige over, who practically creams her pants and says yes. But like, shes also oddly watching Coffee Girl. Fuck, shes so weird.

Noel comes home and finds Hannas hat on the ground and hes like WOW SHE MUST BE SO EXPOSED NOW WITHOUT THE HAT. He leans down to grab it and Hanna fucking hits him over the head with a bat. Its like a league of their own in this bitch.

Shes like its over bitch and Im like, fuck if I had a nickel for every time I heard that on this show.

div.body_middle_part_right .bodypart:nth-child(n+2), a.prevBody{display: none;}

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/07/16/pretty-little-liars-recap-yes-were-back-you-can-all-mellow-tf-out-now/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/07/16/pretty-little-liars-recap-yes-were-back-you-can-all-mellow-tf-out-now/