#only one full episode is left online and it is. SO FUCKING FUNNY
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who was going to tell me that jared hosted a show on mtv in 2007 that’s considered lost media now… during my lost media deep dive!!! who!!!
#it was called room 401 and it was a beautiful shitty reality prank show#they used like practical effects to convince people that supernatural stuff was happening to them#only one full episode is left online and it is. SO FUCKING FUNNY#like a bunch of live crabs will be crawling out of a guys chest and jared will have this awful canned line in reply#amazing#jared padalecki#uncouth babbles#room 401
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as someone who had to go to college bc it was the only conceivable way for me to escape an abusive environment, striaght up: dont go to college. your post is so true, if youre mentally ill (or physically ill, esp chronically) No One Gives A SHIT. i had an incident where i had to go to urgent care i was so sick and my professor was still like "Well. you need to show up to class or youre absent. if you have 2 absences, you fail automatically." so i had to show up half-dead. no one helps you. im also bipolar and went to my college's counselor for help and while she was a lovely woman she didnt support me much there she didnt know much about the disorder. the only way i was able to graduate was bc i was getting an art degree and making things i was already going to make anyway, if that makes sense, and ironically my anxiety disorder was helpful but oh my god it was so bad for my mental health!! so bad and awful!!
tldr: fuck everybody who starts berating you college sucks and theyre all fucking ableist as hell AND on TOP of that it is just such a classist ass money pit and its Not Fucking Worth It
THIS IS EXACTLY HOW IT IS and its SO FUNNY when people tell me to ''get a scholarship'' because news flash asshole; scholarships expect things from you like Bs in all your classes and to actually gaduate, when I can barely pull it together for a B in a class im GOOD AT in HIGHSCHOOL.
I WAS ALSO IN SPECIAL EDUCATION! My math class only went up to a 6th grade level, I never did pre-algebra! I dont even know how to go calculus or trig or any math involving letters and complex systems because my own highschool special education classes didnt teach me it because I wasnt capable enough for it yet! So even if i try to go into college on a scholarship theyll definitely revoke mine and make me pay for it in full once I have a manic episode and stop showing up for a week and then come back and have to tell my teachers ''yeah i never learned any of this in highschool. i was smoking cigarettes in dugouts instead of going to class''
like i am just Not someone who will make it through college unless they give me 30 different accomodations because I already dont have the money to deal with my Mysterious Body Proclems and my severe mixed bipolar that sends me into hysterics monthly in rapid cycles. Not to mention in highschool they found out that i just literally cannot learn in your typical school setup of sitting in a classroom with other people but they wont allow me to do homeschooling/online classes because im so Bipolar that if im left by myself for a long periods of time i may hurt myself. So im literally the most physically, mentally, emotionally, and financially unfit person for college 😭👍 AND I DONT EVEN HAVE ANYTHING I WANNA GO TO SCHOOL FOR!!! IM NOT GOOD ENOUGH AT ART FOR AN ART DEGREE, I CANT DO MATH, I AM TOO MENTALLY UNSTABLE FOR THINGS LIKE SOCIAL OR RELIGIOUS STUDIES, ETC.
Literally just a crockpot of unwell yet every time people find out i never went to college they act like im some dead end loser destined for nothing like gee thanks this makes me feel way better about myself, i bet you love making me feel bad from your ivory tower because you think im just lazy and not a literal psychotic threat to myself on every level. drives me MAD!
#i just wanna be a custodian with a girlfriend dont tell me to go to college thats just the equiv of saying i should contemplate the noose#because stepping into any sort of classroom for more than 15 minutes makes the rope from the ceiling sound more pleasant AAAAAA
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Dimension Jump XXI Report
I suppose I’m a DJ veteran now as this was my fifth consecutive one and the fourth at the Nottingham Crowne Plaza which is an expensive four-star hotel. Sharing with a friend helps keep the cost reasonable and honestly, it’s worth it for the sheer convenience of being right there in the hotel and being able to nip back to your room as required. (To be clear, you don’t have to stay in the hotel to attend the con. There are plenty of other hotels nearby.)
Plus there is always the chance that you’ll see a guest at breakfast as I did Danny once. He picked out a few pieces of fruit and nibbled at them before wandering over late to his photoshoot. What else would you expect from a cat though?
Friday
Myself and @downonthepharm-red-dwarf (Amy) had arrived the previous day so had plenty of time to be near the front of the queue for registration. Which meant we saw Hattie Hayridge arrive in a stunning designer coat and with smart luggage. She really brought her outfit A-game and looked great the whole weekend.
Once we’d presented our respective proofs of full Covid vaccination or a recent negative test, we were given our DJ passes and booklets. The latter has spaces for signatures from guests, an Order Of Events and various handy tips for the weekend.
The con kicks off at 5pm with an hour of gradual build-up in the Main Hall - they show videos from previous events, specially made titbits with various guests past and present such as Mark Dexter doing a mock guide to DJ and Rebecca Blackstone voicing Pree. It all helps with the atmosphere, as do the numerous RD posters dotted around the hotel.
Then it was time for the Opening Ceremony featuring various Fan Club team members and an overcrowded stage full of cardboard boxes - the joke was that they’d had too much time on their hands during lockdowns and bought loads of stuff online. It was obviously also a nod to Lister’s hoarding in “The Promised Land”.
The sketch featured a specially made shot of the AA adverts’ Starbug model landing outside the Crowne Plaza and an 80s computerised version of the lovely convention logo. You could tell a lot of loving effort had gone into the whole thing.
Once the guest line-up had been announced (I’ll get to that not-really-a-surprise-guest shortly), we went straight into the RD Pub Quiz, hosted by Hattie. DOTP and I had been joined at our table by Lapsang and Barbs from our Discord (No Kind Of Atmosphere) plus various other attendees we’d befriended.
Someone in the crowd yelled “I love you, Hattie!” to which she quipped “I’ve pulled already!” Another bloke shouted “Fuck off, she’s mine!” which led to a few shouts of “Fight!” When neither seemed keen to do so, Hattie joked: “Only two? That’s a bit pathetic!” and then we got started.
The quiz is hard, by design, but I’m good at quizzes and my team - No Kind Of Atmosphere after our Discord - came joint third which was gratifying. (I was on the winning team a few DJs ago, to blow my own trumpet for a moment. This is my report, after all.)
And then it was time for the first guest Q&A with - surprise, surprise - Johnny Vegas aka the Crit Cop in “Timewave”. Not a great episode but he more than made up for that with an appearance I can only describe as chaotic. Warning - DO NOT attempt to heckle him unless you want to be singled out and humiliated in front of the entire audience in a “Can’t look away” fashion which was nonetheless entertaining. The man in question tweeted about it afterwards and seems to have taken it in good spirit.
Once we’d moved on from encouraging people to leave unpleasant things in room 429, it turned out Johnny’s a big fan of the show and owned it on VHS (so did I). He thinks of the main characters, Holly would win at “Taskmaster” and had good reasons for that conclusion.
He was dubious about the pink costume he wore in “Timewave” as he thought it might take away from the character but said he eventually decided he needed to get over what he was wearing and just go for it. He also said one of his worst working moments was on “Benidorm” when he had to hold his breath underwater in a freezing swimming pool and his co-star kept forgetting her two lines so they had over 30 takes. Ouch.
Johnny left commenting that he got less love at his 50th birthday party. But we hadn’t seen the last of him by any means as people kept buying him drinks during the Auction, leading to him successfully bidding for one of the items on offer.
And then he was back for the Karaoke. Now if you - as he informed us - had to undergo emergency dental surgery in the morning and had practically lost your voice, would you sing karaoke? And not only that, would you sing a version of “Love On The Rocks” which lasted 11 minutes according to someone on Twitter (I wasn’t timing it, but I can believe it), followed by the full-length version of “American Pie”?
If you answered no, you’re clearly not Johnny Vegas. He went to bed so late that the unfortunate Fan Club team member assigned to look after him got a grand total of 90 minutes’ sleep.
Saturday
DOTP and I had paid for the Photoshoot with Mr Vegas, Danny John-Jules and Ray Fearon. We got in the queue at 9am which was when it was supposed to start. An hour later we were still waiting. Yep, Danny was late.
Once he made it to the hotel, I got my photo in front of a Science Room backdrop. You might think Mr Vegas would be hungover and rushing through it, but on the contrary, he was still enjoying the hell out of proceedings which was refreshing to see. Since he’d been added to the line-up too late to be in the souvenir booklet, he signed extra inserts for the Fan Club which they handed out to everyone at the later Autograph sessions so attendees got his autograph after all even though he’d finally left. That’s what I call throwing yourself into an event.
Next up was a combined Q&A with Danny and Ray (originally separate but Danny’s lateness meant they were teamed up). This wasn’t a problem at all though - on the contrary, it worked really well as the chumminess between them added to the vibe. Also it was Ray’s first convention so he probably preferred to have Danny backing him up, especially since the poor man tripped on his way to the stage and almost fell. I don’t think he was hurt but I cringed with secondhand embarrassment and empathy. He wasn’t the only one to fall foul of the edge of the stage that weekend; I think it was the slightly raised dancefloor in front of it.
As is usual for Danny, we were treated to over half an hour of what you can only really describe as a stream of consciousness as he pontificated about various things. He and Ray did also talk about working together on “Death In Paradise” and Ray described his worst working experience there - he had to play a scene in a club in 45 degree heat with a live snake wrapped around his neck!
Ray is attractive in a “Hollywood hunk” way and Danny was clearly conscious of this, joking that he’d “brought his own security with him” and muttering “I’m better-looking anyway!” But all in a jokey way as they’re clearly friends.
Danny had come from filming and dropped a heavy hint that he’s appearing in a Dickens adaptation which I imagine will be shown at Christmas as they generally are. He also complained that Craig Charles never answers his phone: “You send him a message and he answers it on Twitter a month later!” (Interestingly, Chris Barrie later mentioned a recent phone conversation with Craig so make of that what you will.)
Ray was quieter but happy to talk about the vagaries of showbiz and typecasting - he said that due to his Shakespearean background he gets a lot of serious roles so people were genuinely surprised that he could also do comedy but “I was always funny!” He also gently teased Danny about the age of some of his references before admitting he still finds Tommy Cooper funny.
Danny usually performs “Tongue-tied” with a good grace when inevitably asked to by an audience member but perhaps it’s finally starting to pall as this time he did it in the style of Oliver Reed’s Bill Sykes and included a lot of X-rated references to cunnilingus etc. It was entertaining though.
Next up was a live Q&A (over Zoom) with Chris Barrie. Danny decided to stick around as he wanted to show Chris something he’d ordered online. It took a while to get the cameras in the right position for Chris to be able to see it and Danny needed a knife to open the parcel, leading Chris to quip “Is this a good time for me to step out for some lunch?”
However, it turned out to be worth it as it was a custom-made Ace Rimmer doll which impressed Chris with its quality and he complimented the maker.
Danny and Ray then departed for their lunch and to take part in the Coffee Lounge which this year had reduced its numbers for Covid-related reasons and held a ballot for entry in the interests of fairness. Amy and I didn’t get in but happily stayed for the rest of Chris’s Q&A.
In the “working from home” spirit, Chris was in a hoodie in his living room as opposed to his more usual smart suit. He was suitably relaxed and revealed he got through lockdown by concentrating on the things which make him happy, such as his hobbies, his garden and his family. His favourite episodes are “Marooned”, “Dimension Jump” and - less predictably - “Twentica”. He also referred to a recent “mannerly, as he would call it” phone conversation with Craig. No details but it had clearly been a positive experience.
Amy decided to liven up the ending of his Q&A by asking a vitally important, “TPL”-related question. Whom would Rimmer find more attractive, a female version of Lister or a female version of Cat?
Once the laughter had died down and Chris had bought some time by pointing out that “neither of them are women”, he gave the question appropriate consideration. He pondered whether Rimmer would be more taken by the “simple charms” of Lister or the “feline grace” of Cat. This next bit is courtesy of Amy as my memory isn’t infallible: He said it’d be a choice between a feline form or a rounder, a bit more slovenly woman - he wouldn’t want the perfectly feline woman because she might not like his imperfections, but he also wouldn’t want someone who ate curry three times a day. “Basically, a balance would be ideal.”
That was the last question but Chris provided a little more entertainment as he had a “How do you turn this off then?” moment a la Gordon the computer in “Better Than Life” and made amusing faces as he figured it out. If it was anyone but Chris I’d think it was a deliberate reference to that but I think he was genuinely befuddled.
We then broke for lunch, followed by Autographs with Hattie, Danny, Ray and Norman Lovett. I got the latter three to sign the “TPL” poster I’d brought with me but gave Hattie the booklet instead as it seemed more tactful. She complimented the dress I was wearing and I returned the compliment, telling her how much the fans appreciate the effort she makes with her DJ outfits.
Norman commented how there’s a version of the “TPL” poster he isn’t on, bemusedly. Fortunately mine was the version including him.
I spent the rest of the afternoon chilling in the bar with Amy, Lapsang and Barbs, chatting to other attendees. Graphic Designer Matthew Clark was now in the Merchandise Room with various props from Series XII and “TPL” including the Starbug manual used onscreen. I got his autograph on my poster but it’s an incomprehensible squiggle. Oh well. He was very friendly and easy to talk to.
After a break for dinner, the Main Hall reopened for the Costume Competition. This seems to get better every DJ, with an amazing “Greyscale Rimmer” who was discomfiting to be around due to the corpse-like makeup, a Natalina Pushkin, a Nirvanah Crane who could almost have been Jane Horrocks herself and a Diving Suit Cat from “BTE”. Other entries included Rimmer’s Mum, “Giraffes who were armed and dangerous” and a Confidence And Paranoia who were later pictured at the bar chatting to Paranoia himself, Lee Cornes.
We then had a special video message from Doug Naylor which I won’t go into as I’m sure everyone’s already heard the details. Suffice to say, his tone was positive.
The second Auction was hosted by Ian Boldsworth who made it more entertaining by adding his own commentary to each item. This was followed by a stand-up set from Norman. It was amusing but he misjudged the mood a bit, I feel. When you’re waiting for a disco to start and it’s already hours late due to Danny’s tardiness, you don’t particularly want to contemplate your own mortality. We were here to get away from all that, as much as possible.
Anyway, the Disco was a lot of fun even if Dave Benson Phillips’ presence as host was sorely missed. Hattie danced for the best part of an hour alongside everyone else. The stand-in DJs did their job and I stayed until the end. The final two songs were “Bohemian Rhapsody” and … “Tongue-tied”.
Sunday
Not being in the Sunday Photoshoot, Amy and I had a nice leisurely breakfast and got over last night’s festivities before the first Q&A, live over Zoom with Robert Llewellyn.
This was hosted by Ian Boldsworth who in his capacity as Dave era audience warm-up knows Robert well. Clearly well enough to get away with teasing him relentlessly about not being at the con in person until poor Robert was a mess of Krytenesque guilt.
His protestations that he’d been scheduled to be in Munich this weekend but no longer was (he was at home) only made things worse. Ian: “Oh, so that’s two sets of people you’ve disappointed now! Stop saying yes to things!” It was hilarious and Robert took it in its intended spirit. Also Ian was getting a measure of revenge for Robert - in character as Kryten - dry humping him at recordings. One attendee asked “With the groinal attachment?!”
Robert admitted that he finds Kryten’s various groinal attachments hilarious and if he was writing the show they’d be in every episode. He praised Doug’s restraint.
He also admitted that in “TPL” he had an earpiece to have his lines fed to him. Since it’s controlled by an iPad, certain unscrupulous cast members took great delight in feeding him rude ones.
He still intends to update “The Man In The Rubber Mask” but atm “Fully Charged” is consuming a lot of his time as it’s become much more successful than he anticipated and he’s in charge of several people.
Surprisingly, he would hate appearing in RD without the Kryten makeup, both because it’s become much quicker to apply and because it provides him with a shield and he becomes Kryten and forgets stagefright. He still can’t watch “DNA” for that reason.
Lapsang, who played Kryten in “Into The Gloop”, asked Robert if he’d seen it. He hadn’t but said he was now very curious and would find a way to.
Next up was Lee Cornes aka Paranoia who said he originally auditioned for the lead roles and like the other unsuccessful actors got the consolation prize of a guest appearance. Upon being asked if he’d gone out for a drink with Craig Ferguson’s Confidence, he said no because at the time they had a frosty relationship due to rumours that Craig was plagiarising other comics’ jokes. Lee said it was all very silly and he’s since apologised.
Interestingly, Lee is a qualified science teacher and carried on with that career alongside his media one, leading to surreal situations where his pupils would ask: “Sir? Were you on the telly last night?” “Yes.” “Are we on the telly now, sir?”
Someone asked a good question - what would Lister’s Paranoia be like now 33 years later? Lee would be willing to reprise the role but isn’t sure it would work as the original had a childish quality whereas he feels now the character would be a lot darker and less funny. Lee was both thoughtful and entertaining in his responses.
He was followed onstage by Hattie and Norman, who resolutely refused to rise to the bait of an audience member attempting to stir up a rivalry between them. That only works when one isn’t the nicest person you could meet.
A tactless audience member asked both if they’d watched “TPL” instead of directing the question at Norman. Luckily Hattie had seen it and particularly enjoyed the cat flap joke although she felt there was a little too much focus on the guest cast.
Norman didn’t really watch RD after he left but Hattie has seen Norman’s early episodes as he lent them to her back when she was originally cast as Hilly for research purposes. Bear in mind this was 1988 when they weren’t even available on VHS so presumably he recorded them off the TV.
Hattie confirmed with a sigh that she’s simply never been asked to return in any capacity: “That’s the short answer.” What the hell, I’ll say it one more time - Bring Back Hattie! One episode, that’s all I ask. As it stands, it’s starting to look like a pointed and deliberate snub which mystifies me.
We then broke for lunch, followed by Rob Grant and Paul Jackson. For obvious reasons they didn’t go into the current legal mess, opting instead to entertain the fans with the story of how they met and their early pre-RD work (Rob and Doug as freelance writers for Paul’s producer).
We saw some clips from their early shows including “Three Of A Kind” with Lenny Henry, Tracy Ullman and … later magician David Copperfield; apparently they all had the same agent and Paul took on David as a favour. For a 40 year old show it held up pretty well and was in much better sound and picture quality than older shows often are. “Carrott’s Lib” was just as funny.
It’s a bit hard to summarise but this session was entertaining and gripping. Rob still wants to write another RD novel and I believe there’s nothing actually stopping him as both he and Doug had an option to write a second solo novel. So we’ll see.
The final Q&A was Matthew Clark who was very informative and interesting, showing us numerous production stills from Series XII and “TPL” and talking us through them. There was a groan when time was called before he was finished.
By now time was running short and Amy and I went back to the room to pack and leave our luggage with reception before watching the start of “Dibbley Family Fortunes”. Since I knew I wouldn’t have time to watch it all, I instead nipped upstairs to Autographs with Lee and Ian, timing it perfectly as the queue had almost vanished.
Ian was still performing, drawing scornful attention to the fact that Lee had a longer queue: “Can you imagine all these people queueing to see Lee Cornes?!” It sounds rude out of context but he was clearly joking.
I decided to ask Lee what flavour the yogurt Paranoia eats was. He said it didn’t really taste of anything as it was the cheapest, nastiest canteen yogurt available and was also starting to curdle under the studio lights so eating it can’t have been much fun.
Since I now had about 15 minutes before I had to go, I caught a bit of Dibbley Family Fortunes, said goodbye to Amy, Lapsang and Barbs and then dashed off to catch the tram to the train station. Another great DJ.
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Guardians of the Galaxy, Ragnarok, and Classic Loki
I was discussing Classic Loki's costume with someone online and I admit, in the small teaser, I was really disheartened.
Yes, it was a faithful copy of a classic Loki costume, but comic book costumes are ridiculous, especially older ones. And if that wasn't bad enough, his pants looked like a nappy.
I'd been mostly impressed with the mixture of drama and comedy but this outfit was just a step too far for me. I was not confident in where the series was going.
Then in the next episode, they took this walking visual joke and gave him not only a full, but a fulfilling character arc.
I admit, Classic Loki is my second favourite variant, just pipped to the post by alligator Loki.
And isn't that weird? Alligator Loki is objectively more ridiculous, not in his costume but in his whole character. He's a freaking reptile FFS! But I love him.
And that reminded me of a discussion I'd had with a Ragnarok fan who would hear no wrong said about her movie. The points i brought up with her had nothing to do with Loki, I chose the slavery
It's on Sakar
Valkyrie is a slave trader selling people into certain death because no one wins forever, but somehow a hero,
And that Odin build Asgard using slave labour.
And there's the colonialism, related to the third point.
Both of these issues went totally unaddressed in a movie that didn't even need them. They could have written it a different way and still had a good movie.
I mentioned how T'Challa went into the afterlife to berate his father and ancestors for their wrongs and promise to correct their mistakes, while Thor went to his colonising, slaver father and... asks for advice? Really? That's like showing Thor asking Robert E Lee for advice.
She of course, argued that they were making entertainment, not the colour purple or 12 years a slave. Of course that's a straw man argument, but I reminded her that Black Panther had plenty of humour, and GotG literally sends itself up all the time, and even has a goddamn dance off with the villain, yet it still made me care enough to cry about the death of a tree!
Ragnarok had me wondering why Thor tortured his brother, do heroes do that now? Thor isn't even an anti-hero, he's just straight up hero. That scene just left me cold, it wasn't funny and because it was played for laughs, I didn't empathise with Loki. I mean, he just looks constipated.
You all know how much I love Loki, I've written enough stories about him, after all, but Ragnarok Loki is just meh. I care that he was being tortured from an intellectual perspective, because it feels wrong for the hero to do that, and his betrayal of Thor cam out of left field, but I don't feel sympathy for him. I can't relate to him, I feel neither love nor hate for him, I'm just indifferent (to all the characters actually).
The only thing that rouses any emotion in me is Taika and the rage his mishandling of important issues and dismissal existing character arcs brings out in me.
Contrast this torture scene with GotG, which had me sympathising with Nebula while she was being tortured because, sure she's a bad guy, but she's also a well rounded character and her torture wasn't being played for laughs. We know she's been tortured, in one way or another, her whole life. Yes, she's bad, but I can relate to her because I understand her.
Then this Taika fan said something that was more telling than she knew, and was actually 100% correct. Taika thinks comic books are ridiculous, and he's out here making a Road Runner movie.
And it suddenly hit me, she was right.
Everything in Ragnarok is treated the same way an anvil falling on Wile.E.Coyote's head is treated. There are no consequences. There are no lessons learned. There are no character arcs. At the end of the Road Runner series neither the roadrunner or the coyote had changed in any way. They were 2 dimensional, both literally and figuratively.
Unfortunately for her argument, 30 years ago we had what is still arguably the best cartoon Batman series ever, Batman the animated series. It took it's two dimensional animated characters and gave them three dimensional personalities. 30 years later it's still hailed as brilliant.
And I think that's why Classic Loki and GotG can take utterly ridiculous characters (let's face it, all superheroes are ridiculous to some extent) but while some even acknowledge how silly their comic book heroes are, they actually take the characters, the story, and the issues raised seriously.
Yes, Classic Loki looks like a joke, but he's never viewed as one from the crew's perspective.
Alligator Loki is even more preposterous! Who even made his horns, and who puts them on for him? But while the show acknowledges how silly he is with our Loki's questioning, he's a Loki and everyone treats him as a Loki. Yes, he injects some comic relief, but the laughter is never at his expense. He's even shown to be able to hold his own in a fight.
Rocket is a talking raccoon, but he's never laughed at. In fact he's even pitied once you learn what happened to make him that way. He's ridiculous, but he's not a joke. And yes, he makes jokes about how ridiculous they all are (bunch of jackasses standing in a circle) but while a comedic character, the joke is not on him. He's a fully formed, well rounded character. We care about him.
Yes, Star Lord is an idiot at times too, but his heart is in the right place and he wants to do the right thing. So you think he's gone mad when he has a dance off with the villain, but you quickly realise he's being an idiot for a very good reason and is playing to his strengths (and using idiocy as a strength is clever). I think we also understand, because he's a fully formed character, than his humour is a defence mechanism. He plays the fool because that's the niche he's carved for himself to help him cope, but that doesn't mean he is a fool.
Ragnarok wanted to be GotG, but Taiks forgot the part about while it's ridiculous and fanciful, the characters aren't a joke.
To Taika, if it doesn't get a laugh, it's not important. The few serious or touching moments we get are as a result of the MCU bigwigs forcing changes in reshoots, or forcing Taika to stick to the script.
There are no character arcs. You could argue that Loki goes from villain to hero or anti-hero, but he's already been through that journey in Dark World. Why did he regress? Who cares, it's not funny, he's just a bad guy again, forget about the plot holes and just laugh at the guy being killed smelling like toast!
Thor turning away from his father's teachings, like T'Challa did, would have been a wonderful character arc. Seeing his dad, realising his dad was wrong that and he needs to do better, and calling on his own inner strength to protect his people. That would have been a fulfilling arc. Instead he still needs advice from his colonising, slaver father. And this is actually one of the few scenes that wasn't played for laughs. It had so much potential, yet Taika just didn't care enough to reach for it.
Ragnarok is a road runner movie where our heroes toss a series of ACME anvils and dynamite at each other and the bad guys, but like the RR cartoon, there are no consequences. Just like Wile.E, they get straight back up again and lob another anvil at someone.
Hulk has been murdering innocent slaves for quite a while now, but he doesn't care. You'd think Bruce Banner might care about what his alter ego has been up to but no, this good, gentle, introspective, intelligent and caring man doesn't give one single fuck, because it's ACME Hulk and murdering innocent slaves has as many consequences as crushing them with an ACME anvil.
And I think that's the difference. Yes, your characters can be utterly ridiculous, but the crew must take them seriously and make them fully rounded characters who face consequences. Consequences are how we learn and grow.
And if they don't take the movie or characters seriously, you end up with a 2 dimensional story that no one cares about, because you haven't given them a reason to.
I don't care why Wile.E is trying to kill RR. I don't care what his motivation is. I don't care when he gets squashed or blown up, or falls off a cliff, because he's not a character, he's a caricature.
Ragnarok is just a collection of caricatures.
#thor ragnarok#MCU#gagnarok#loki series#Classic loki#old man loki#alligator loki#guardians of the galaxy#peter quill#rocket#nebula#black panther#gotg#gotg 2
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Episode 3: The Wedding Job
And so we begin the “The Network Fucked Up” saga with episode 7 which is SUPPOSED to be episode 3.
Huge men drinking out of tiny teacups is hilarious and will never stop being so.
Nate, stop being such a control freak. “I thought I pick the clients” DUDE CHILL
“No more, no less” honey you getting much more
“We’ll get back to you” FUCK YOU NATE
PARKER LOVES KIDS EPISODE 1
NATE IF YOU HAD FOUND THIS CASE YOU’D TAKE IT IN AN INSTANT YOU’RE JUST MAD YOU DIDN’T FIND IT
FBI!!! TAGGERT AND MCSWEETEN!! AHH OKAY I LOVE THEM
“They just need validation” BITCH ME TOO THE FUCK
TODAY IN THEY MAKE PEOPLE LOOK UNNECESSARILY STUPID
Hardison is so gregarious it’s so amazing to watch
“I don’t have to type anything right” oh my god
TAPES! “HARDISON HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO WALK OUT OF THE FBI OFFICES WITH A BOX FULL OF TAPES?” “pUNCH someBODY!” “oh I’m gonna PUNCH SOMEBODY” God i love them
Jersey Boys I can’t, it’s terrible guys. Do mobsters have no taste
Oh look, it’s that woman who’s in EVERYTHING
What is Parker wearing on her head
Everyone talks about bridezillas, but no one talks about mother of the bridezillas.
WHY DIDN’T THEY HIRE A WEDDING PLANNER IN THE FIRST PLACE
SOPHIE FOCUSING ON HER PERSONAL PROBLEMS WITH NATE INSTEAD OF THE JOB EPISODE 1
ELIOT THE CHEF EPISODE 1
HOLY SHIT I LOVE HIM
ELIOT GETTING TOO ATTACHED TO HIS COVER STORY AND FORGETTING ABOUT THE JOB EPISODE 1
He’s so mad that she doesn’t like it I lovehim I LOVE HIM I FUCKING LOVE ELIOT SPENCER
“Imagine if we had bugs planted all over the house” WHY THE FUCK DON’T YOU
How the fuck is the dress so ugly? WHY IS THAT WHAT THEY WANT? WHO WEARS PINK RUCHED SATIN WITH BLUE FLOWERS
I mean, other than, like, me @6 years old. But really, no one should be wearing the clothes I wore at 6 years old.
Also it’s just.. the worst length. Like if it was a long dress it might be better.
Nate the pastor episode 1
God that future son in law seems like a dream guy I love him
Maria Moscone deserves better than her scumbag parents let’s be real
SOPHIE TAKING THINGS TOO PERSONALLY AND GETTING THE WAY OF THE JOB
THIS!!! THIS IS WHY THE NETWORK ORDER MAKES NO SENSE!!! THIS HERE’S AN AIMEE REFERENCE BUT IF THEY’D ALREADY DONE THE TWO HORSE JOB, HARDISON WOULD’VE KNOWN ABOUT HER AND NOT ASKED
“What did you do?” “Me? I liberated CROATIA!” *angry apple bite* i CAN’T I LOVE HIM
DO PEOPLE NOT KNOW PARKER ISN’T A BRIDESMAID? HOW IS THAT DRESS FOOLING ANYONE
Hardison in love with Parker is so pure
… Okay but shouldn’t maria and blonde n’ bitchy know that Parker isn’t a bridesmaid? Wouldn’t the other bridesmaids know? Why does no one in the wedding party question ANYTHING?
HARDISON’S SCARF THOUGH
WHY IS HER MOTHER WEARING WHITE?? WHO WEARS WHITE TO A WEDDING WTF
MARIA MOSCONE DESERVES BETTER
SOPHIE FUCK OFF!! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS RIGHT NOW?? THIS ISN’T IMPORTANT SOPHIE!! SOPHIE STOP IT!! SOPHIE SHUT UP!
M A R I A M O S C O N E D E S E R V E S B E T T E R
The Butcher of Kiev is the best subplot of this episode but HOW THE FUCK DID THEY ALL KNOW HE AND ELIOT HAD A PAST
Sophie is so fucking annoying in this episode I hate her right now
THESE PEACHES AREN’T GONNA POACH THEMSELVES PARKER
OH MY GOD NATE SHUT UP
NATE SHUT UP
NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR THIS NATE
SHUT THE FUCK UP NATE
THIS ISN’T ABOUT YOU NATE
“In my day, no one would do business at their daughter’s wedding” WELL THEN DON’T DO BUSINESS
Parker’s face smushed against the glass is great
Ahh yes, you don’t get the money so you SHOOT THE BRIDE. Because THAT’s not gonna cause a scene and get you arrested.
OK be honest is there anyone who was surprised by the wife being responsible? Bc I’m not
Eliot’s face is like “TFW the guy whose face you burned shows up at a wedding you’re supposed to be pretending to but actually are catering with a cleaver and backup and the overwhelming urge to kill you”
I know that’s super specific but that’s what it is
Parker’s really good at playing drunk
But also, why did they not question what she was doing behind the curtain
Like she just happened to appear after they were finished talking about VERY ILLEGAL THINGS and they aren’t at all suspicious?
Also, Parker using Hardison as a cover is just… I love it.
You’re laughing. Eliot brought a whisk to a knife fight and you’re laughing.
The saddest part is Eliot has any sort of cooking implement. You should be terrified right now
Okay so let me get this straight. A guy is StrANGLING you, you get your hands on a rolling pin, and your instinct isn’t, “hey, I can use this rolling pin to clobber him over the head,” the instinct is “Let me use this rolling pin to get my hands on the appetizers?” Like, yes, lemon juice, but also ROLLING PINS ARE HEAVY AND YOU COULD AT LEAST KNOCK THE GUY OUT
But no, let me shove fucking MUSHROOMS in his eyes because otherwise how else would we get the symmetry of the butcher yelling “IT BUUUURRRNNNNSS” both times he fights Eliot
And then he uses the fucking serving tray to bonk him on the head INSTEAD OF THE DUCKING ROLLING PIN
LIKE SERIOUSLY HAVE YOU EVER USED A ROLLING PIN AS A WEAPON
I’M NOT SAYING I HAVE BUT OUCH
Like, just… If I had a choice between being hit over the head with a thin sheet of metal or a log of wood with metal inside it, I’d pick the sheet, because at least that one has some give.
“It’s the lemon juice” How does Eliot make that sound badass
“You just kill a guy with an appetizer?” How the FUCK WOULD YOU KNOW THAT??
WHY DOES NO ONE ASSUME A ROLLING PIN WOULD BE AN OKAY WEAPON
Or like LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE IN THAT KITCHEN. THERE ARE CAST IRON PANS IN THAT KITCHEN. Or just liek… regular pans. HAVE YOU EVER DROPPED A NONSTICK PAN ON YOUR FOOT? IT FUCKING HURTS?? WHY IS THE APPETIZER YOUR FIRST INSTINCT NATE
Also, he’s clearly not dead. What the fuck
“I don’t know, maybe” I KNOW AND tHE ANSWER IS NO YOU OBVIOUSLY DIDN”T
...who honeymoons in Kansas? Is that a thing?
They are a very cute couple i’ve gotta be honest
“Exactly what denomination are you reverend?” He isn’t
“You’re not Mary Poppins, youre a bitch” Okay pot. Okay.
LITERALLY THAT FUCKING HANDBAG WOULD AHVE MADE A BETTER WEAPON THAN THE MUSHROOMS
How does Hardison remember all those numbers? He didn’t even hear a bunch of them, but he takes the book out so slowly? DOES HARDISON HAVE AN EIDETIC MEMORY? WHY IS THAT NOT A PLOT POINT MORE OFTEN
Like I’m just saying, someone tries to tell me their phone number more than 3-4 numbers at a time and I get confused. But hardison just… remembers
What happened to the cash? The daughter gets the fucking wedding present she DESERVES for putting up with her awful parents that’s what
Hardison appreciating Eliot’s cooking is EVERYTHING
“I left him five dollars for socks” Well everyone needs socks.
Okay wait I just had a thought
If Nate isn’t an actual Reverend, is that marriage even legal? Does Nate just happen to also be a legally ordained minister? Did they have to get him an online ordainment? WhY did we not see that scene? WHAT IF HE’S NOT AND THEY AREN’T ACTUALLY MARRIED
And today on “I clearly think far too much about these things”
PARKER WIth KIDS IS EVERYTHING
Eliot cooking for his family I love it
ELIOT IN A TANK TOP I LOVE IT
Was Eliot’s arms the most important part of this scene? Probably not
Is it the only thing I care about? ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY
I”M A SIMPLE GIRL AND HE HAS VERY NICE ARMS OKAY
Final thoughts: 9/10. I love this episode so much guys. Points off because really who the fuck wears white to a wedding. I know that’s the point but its very off putting. Also for the bridesmaid dresses because they were ugly as sin. Actual point off for the wife secretly being awful. Very predictable, ew. Extra points for Chef!Eliot. Extra points for Eliot’s arms. Points off for Nate and Sophie being completely insufferable. Extra points for Parker being great in this episode. Points off for the FUCKING ROLLING PIN YES I’M STILL ANGRY DONT @ ME. Extra points for Eliot killing a man with an appetizer because it’s still funny. Extra points for no IYS or Sam references THANK THE FUCKING LORD. Or, at least, if there was, i didn’t notice, meaning it wasn’t egregious so whatever. So yeah, anyway I really fucking love this episode.
IYS Count: 2/3
Sam Count: 2/3 AND WE ARE ALL BETTER OFF FOR IT
#leverage#leverage rewatch#eliot spencer#alec hardison#parker#sophie devereaux#nathan ford#ot3#leverage ot3#the wedding job
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TFATWS episode 1 rewatch commentary
The first scene was so beautiful. I loved that we didn't start directly with the fight sequence. It feels way closer to the quiet beginning of CATWS and I love it so much.
The title is also SO NEAT, music's on point too but hey it’s Henry Jackman the one thing I’m sure it’s going to be great overall is the score.
The choreography is AMAZING, really well shot. Sam shielding himself with only one wing was MA-JES-TIC.
“WHAT'S UP” EXACTLY SAM EXACTLY
I did feel so uncomfortable in regards to the military aspect of it. Not that I was expecting anything else, but both here and in Captain Marvel the military we're good guys < 3 propaganda is so blatant and ugh:/ At least there wasn’t a literal recruitment spot like with CM.
The yellow filter in the Tunisia scene BYE please stop with the yellow filters 2k21
"I've been working with the Air Force for six months now" So, did Sam even catch a break at all after Endgame? Or did he just throw himself to work like SOMEONE did after being iced for 70 years. Hmmm? Sam????
"Essentially, these people, they want a world that's unified without borders" OH NO! HOW AWFUL, how evil of these bad guys smh
Joaquin: SO about Steve
Sam: :)))))) nope
"Moon stuff" SAAAM
#1 cry with Sam's speech, full on chills.. Fuck. Me. His voice about to break before saying thank you bYE.
Shady politician: "It was the right decision" (FUCKKKKK YOUUU)
Rhodey: *press any key to doubt *
I need someone to analyze the different curation of the two exhibits pretty please
NOT THE PHOTO POST-AZZANO JFC. That photo is my weakness, Bucky sweetie (also I find hilarious that usually when there are articles about Stucky and/or #givecaptainamericaaboyfriend they aaaalways use that photo LMAO)
In case someone wants to read the transcription of the texts about Bucky: "In 1944, while on a mission to thwart a Hydra weapon transport in the Alps, Barnes was thrown from a train and believed to have been killed in action. It wasn't until 2014, over seventy years later, that it was revealed that Barnes was alive, having been found by Hydra operatives. Captain America himself (i can't read) the effort to bring Barnes in only to later aid in a escape from custody having been convinced of his innocence. Steve's loyalty to his old friend, coupled with his refusal to sign the Sokovia Accords, led to the dissolution of the Avengers and drove the Captain into hiding with other like-minded Avengers including Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, and Sam Wilson. The current whereabouts of Barnes remains unknown, habing been labeled a fugitive following his escape from custody."
"current wherabout unknown" but not the government, interesting. Also, pretty good summary of CACW from the public's perspective, although one of the things I always wanted to see explored was the public's reaction of the fallout of them going into hiding after Civil War (which I'm hoping we'll get to see a little bit of in Black Widow).
Interesting point about the 70 years without having Captain America. Clearly the sacrifice play wasn't enough this time to fuel the nationalism so they went with a squeaky clean John Walker instead.
Sam saying the shield belongs to Steve I'm going to cry now excuse me. Sam. Sam sweetie.
The No. 1 Captain America comic in the display ugH fuck yes
See this is how you do a cameo that has actual meaning. Thank god for Malcolm Spellman being a competent writer. That scene was so well written.
HAVE YOU PRAISED ANTHONY MACKIE'S PERFORMANCE TODAY?? Holy shit that last shot fucked me up.
I'm loving the use of the wide shots, especially in the flashback. The camera movements are in synch with The Soldier's state of mind and mission focus, so good.
EVERYONE STAND UP FOR THE NATIONAL ANTHEM aka The Winter Soldier theme composed by Henry Jackman.
Without a doubt the most brutal TWS fight scene there has been, People involved in Punisher and John Wick are involved in this and it SHOWS.
For the record, still stands that the only time we've seen him chocking someone with his right hand instead of the metal arm remains the Maria Stark assasination. I know it's probably because of blocking and the way the shot was composed but the implications are still bone chilling. God.
Uhhmmmm I'm very ambivalent about the "Hail Hydra". On one hand, it was 100% fanservice and the internet is probably going to go insane over it, and the dead way Sebastian Stan delivered the line. Good shit. Buuut what I love about CATWS is the way Bucky never, ever ever, mouths Hydra rethoric, and even when Pierce tries to gaslight him with it, it's just an empty effort. The Winter Soldier isn't doing anything because of ideological loyalty to Hydra, even if it's product of brainwashing, it's just sheer dehumanization. They don’t need him to say the words because he’s just An Asset. There are people who have put it more eloquently but yeah, I rather go with the fanon interpretation of that aspect.
The music growing louder with the shot of the keys. GOD.
I'm fine this is fine.
#2 cry with the therapy scene of fucking course.
The government monitoring Bucky is noooot going to end well lmao.
"We need to know that you're not gonna * slowmo stabbing motions *
Bucky: * nodding along slowly *
I laughed out loud.
"It's passive agressive" I love him.
The way this scene just sucker punched me in the face, made me weep and then had me cracking up. Amazing.
Therapist: You can't do anything illegal
Bucky: yup yup check checkity check. What IS considered illegal tho?
*aggresive tablet finger pressing *
"Then why isn't it rule number one?" Bucky your Steve is showing.
I love the close up shot. I'll keep saying it. It's so good.
"I'm James Bucky Barnes" yeah you are🥺
That smile is nightmare fuel LMFAO I love it.
Uhm the way I'm kinning Bucky it's not funny anymore damn
That whole “are you lashing out at me” rambling is really reminiscent of the bar scene in CATFA and how he lashed out at Steve after Peggy left. Uhm yeah fuck.
"WHAT DO YOU WANT?" "Peace"
"That is UTTER BULLSHIT" "You're a terrible shrink"
yeah ugly crying to ugly laughing speedrun for me
"You're free" "To do what?" jesus. That entire scene. #3 and #4 and #5 cries for moi.
Ugh that Brooklyn shot. Someone needs to do a gifset compairing it to the one in CATFA asap.
"It's like Monique but it's got a "U" in there for uniqueness" "That's absurd" LMAO
"You can't keep fighting with your neighbors" uHM * redacted redacted i'm shifting into 1940s mode abort abort *
"Nobody passed 90" "So young. Such a shame" FGADHGA
🥺🥺 yes flex those flirting skills good for you
"It's a dance to this things. You can't… you gotta warm up and I haven't danced since 1943. Feels like." #6 cry I completely broke down into tears with that.
This Yori storyline is going to punch me in the face with a metal fist. Great!
The TWS theme when he looks at Yori fuuuuuck.
GREAT LET'S GO TO LOUISIANA THAT WAS GETTING HEAVY.
Those shots of Sam in the car. Immaculate. Showstoping. Yes.
Marvel, what if instead of promoting the military industrial complex you put a lot of publicity about cars?
"Uncle Sam!" LMAO subtle.
Everyone trying to have the wings lmao same.
I've only had Sarah for a day but etc. Brooklyn 99 meme
Good mirroring about Steve and Sam family's legacy. Good shit. Goooood shit.
Sam is trying so hard ouch my heart. I can't imagine how painful the scene with them reuniting must have been. He 100% still feels a lot of guilt about being gone for those 5 years (and even longer before that).
"Maybe it is time for us to move on" uuuuuuuuuuh
"To the rescue" "Always" 🥺🥺 i love them so much already
That shot outside the restaurant is so beautiful. Can't wait to see the night scenes in Madripoor tbh.
"I tried the whole online dating thing. It's pretty crazy". Uhm well that is something that Bucky Barnes has now said. In canon. Damn.
"It's a lot" "You sound like my dad" LMAO
Every Bucky fanfic trope speedrun with this scene
"Wow you really can drink" OH you have no idea
Just realized we don't even know her name, well.
"You have any siblings?" "I have a sister" THE WAY I SCREECHED. We're definitely getting Becca
Well that escalated quickly. The important thing is to try?
I can't deal with this BUCKY SWEETIE #8 cry right there fuck
The wardrobe department is KILLING IT, there's such a difference between the outfits of the shows vs how ugly and generic it usually is.
"ThEre is NO such thiNg as on time. You're either EARLY or LATE . picK One" lmao the way he delivered that line
At first I thought the flag smashers had thrown two cars out of a window LMAO
"I don't know how jurisdiction works here, but I'mma have to place you under arrest" uhm yikes. The way they changed Joaquín Torres backstory to just random army nice guy #1 is not sitting well with me, what can I say.
Sam's wings motions I LOVE HIM YOUR HONOR
Fuuuuck this guy.
"Funny how thing's always thighten around us" "Look, I'm on your side. After all, he's a hero". This script is C R I S P as hell, great fucking job.
"I don't care, I'm not gonna quit" "What are you trying to prove? And who you trying to prove it to" SHIT HSIT SHIT!!! UGH amazing. Look it's not necessary to say the show's questions out loud but how they flow between the conversations is still very satisfactory without feeling in your face about it. Inner conflicts have been set up fucking perfectly everyone * claps *
Ugh here we fucking go. I knew this was how the episode was going to end but my stomach still dropped like a rollercoster. God.
The score is on point. Damn. Damn.
God, Sam.🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺
The captain america franchise's visuals in the credits are always so amazing.
Also, does anybody know why Mackie isn't first in the billing? Uhm what's that about?
ANYWAY CONCLUSION THAT EPISODE WAS SO FUCKING GOOD LIKE HOLY SHIT. I love them so much. The balance between the personal conflicts and the political aspect (although the military aspect is still very much yikes) was on point and it was overall a joy to watch.
#tfatws#tfatws spoilers#i'm so happy rn#sorry for the ramblings i just wanted to have it all written down#sam wilson#bucky barnes#captain america#tfatws commentary
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Drag Race season 13 first impressions and vibes:
I do this every year and I know no one cares but here are my unwanted opinions.
Kandy Muse: Her reputation proceeds her...in a bad way. I've seen how hateful she can be online and I just can't look past it; I can just tell she's gonna annoy me until she goes home. The look however was cute and the lipsync was fun, I can tell she's talented. I wanna try and view her without bias but it's gonna be tough.
Joey Jay: I was excited for her during the promo but couldn't get past the entrance look. Really? The panty was cut too low cut, the feathers were cheep and falling apart, the hair was supposed to look wet but it just looked a mess, like she didn't have time to dry her hair before coming. Just came across so unpolished and because I only got to to see her for like a collective 15 minutes I was just unimpressed. Lipsync was unimpressive, Kandy really let her have it, the only thing I remember was her punching her tiddie and the feathers falling off all over the stage.
Denali: The look was so right, head to toe, but that contour was so rough it was distracting. She seemed fun, I can see her succeeding. Again, only getting a couple of minutes with her just really left me wanting more, it felt lacking. For someone who was on literal ice skates she was pulling some impressive stunts I honestly thought she might have the lipsync but I'm not mad at the Lala win. I'm honestly just really neutral on her. I did like when she flashed us, it's really the only thing I remember from the lipsync. (Also the repeat song? Hello? Iconic Coco Montrese lipsync from season 5? I clocked it.)
LaLa Ri: The look: pedestrian, didn't fit her in any way and was just so basic it was almost sad. Wish it were a full pant and the jacket was tailored to her. Also not everyone is able to wear those flat little wigs, wish she had teased it up. Her vibes? Her smile? Stunning. She seems so warm and friendly and kind. I want her to succeed but the ONE TIME I got to see her she looked... unimpressive. I don't remember a single think she did in the lipsync not gonna lie...
Symone: fully obsessed during the promo, so beautiful in and out of drag and her sense of style is so interesting to me. Entrence look was a little on the simple side but effective. She's also from the same area is me so I know people who know her and are fully obsessed. One of my tops for sure. The lipsync was good but I really thought Tamish let her have it. Not mad she won but I would have made it a double win. (Maybe after a night of just okay lipsyncs I'm grasping at the only one that made me excited.) Also, nothing to do with her but she's Gigi Goode's sister and Gigi is for sure talented and I really liked her for the majority of her season but she's made some choices in the have been confusing at best; I worry Symone might share some of those opinions. Here's hoping that just my paranoia.
Tamisha Iman: she came across as cookie cutter pageant girl (not that there's anything wrong with that) in her promo so I wasn't really excited for her. Very pleasantly surprised. She walked in in that red power suit and long black hair TIDDIES OUT: I was shaken. She also seems to just radiate good energy, I'm really liking her. She and Symone had the most entertaining lipsync of the night, it felt close (I do think Miss Tamish turned the party a little hard but not enough to call it rigged.) I am a little heartbroken they made her tell her cancer story episode one, immediately after getting there, she killed a lipsync, then was sent on her way, she was amicably calm tho. I really like her.
Gottmik: Another I was SUPER excited for during promos and she's really giving it too me. The look was so interesting and flattering and the face was to die for topped off by that perfect black hair. Dead and in the ground. Lipsync...left much to be desired. The song was a bop and my jaw dropped when it started but neither of them gave me what Rumors deserved. I loved both the queens so much though I almost didn't care...almost. Also FIRST FTM QUEEN EVER ON THE SHOW I'M SO JWBDJDIBEBSKDE AND IM SO HAPPY AND PROUD OF HIM. King shit never been more insane and proud to be cisn't.
Utica Queen: I CAN TELL THIS BITCH IS NEURODIVERGENT AND SO AM I!!! SAME HAT!!! I love a bitch who has a distinct aesthetic and lives on a completely different planet. Her promo look was my favorite, she's so striking and the crazy mad hatter look was EVERYTHING. Entrance look was equally crazy and somehow all worked (maybe not the strawberry but I still loved the strawberry). I thought she was so fun during the lipsync and I couldn't take my eyes off of her (again, that might be because I find her so striking) I honestly thought she would win but again the lipsync as a whole was a little underwhelming. Her sad face at the end of the episode broke my heart, this premier was a little cruel to the losers.
Rosé: not gonna lie, I was disappointed in Rosé. Her look was so crazy and cool for the promo and she came into the competition wearing a pink cropped biker jacket and panty? (The look was cute enough and I like the designer but it was so meh) The hair was lovely and I thought the missing tooth was funny, it was a shame she wiped it off before anyone could see it. I totally understand being bitter about hyping yourself up as a LIPSYNC QUEEN and a major nyc girl and so established especially compared to someone like Olivia who has only be doing drag for a year and a half..then you lose...and you assume you're going home first...I TOTALLY GET IT but the edit worked on me and I was like wow what a bitch. The only person who has claimed to be nyc royalty I actually vibed with was Peppermint, I think it's like an instant turn off for someone to say they're the best whatever of nyc. (Not that I dislike nyc girls, just the ones that claim to be hot shit.)
Olivia Lux: Sweet summer child. Precious baby angel. I found her so cute and charming and silly in her promo and she came in in that VELVET (?) HALF PINK HALF YELLOW GOWN WITH THE ROUGING and that BEAUTIFUL blonde hair that looked so good again her sink and the long as ponytail and the fucking waves like a designer Barbie fresh out the box, I'm living. Another one of my favorites, the energy is just so right and so there. Had my 2nd favorite lipsync of the night and I was so proud of her for besting Rosé, someone she clearly looks up too so much. I would LOVE for this bitch to win but I can tell she's gonna be a Miss Congeniality.
Tina Burner: I can tell this one is gonna annoy me. Again a nyc royalty claim which is an instant minus, the look was not it (I love the designer but the look was so wrong), the hair hat was fun in concept but that red hair just didn't look right on her, she was definitely giving me sexy hotdog ketchup and mustard fantasy, and I don't know why but her face is just kinda scary to me?? It like makes me feel like I'm going crazy. I didn't really like her in the promos either, she just comes across as really full of herself. I'm like instantly getting the worst vibes. I have seen people online saying she's really funny and turns the fucking party but I found the lipsync boring and hard to pay attention too. I've seen so many people saying she's IT so I want her to prove me wrong, make me eat my hat.
Kahmora Hall: So insanely beautiful, a WOMAN, how DARE SHE. She's our current reignings sister so she has huge shoes to fill and I'm ready for her to fill them. I actually kinda liked her lipsync, she was doing the damn thing in a gown which is impressive. Wish I had gotten a little more of her. I'm sorta neutral on this one too, nothing from her promo or literal 15 minutes if screen time really impressed me nor turned me off of her.
Elliott with 2 Ts: The second she said she was a "housewife with a secret" I was sold. Something about that instantly endeared her to me and have not been able to stop saying it since. I thought the red two piece was nice and the cropped jacket was fun but the hair was not right. I find her so pretty in like an alien way. I honestly thought her lipsync was the best and I found myself drawn to her but it's so hard to tell with more then 2 people. Promo look was very like cool mom and I vibe.
As a whole...a very underwhelming premier, especially after the last seasons. Seemed really rushed and unnecessarily cruel to the losing girls. Especially telling them they're all going home then saying they're not but they need to choose one queen from them to go home...I'm so worried they're all gonna take one look at Utica and be like 'get this weirdo out of here', if a single person picks her to "go home" I'll scream and cry and piss on the floor.
#rupaul's drag race#rpdr#rpdr s13#marsh#kandy muse#joey jay#denali#lala ri#symone#tamisha iman#gottmik#utica queen#rosé#olivia lux#tina burner#kahmora hall#elliot with 2 ts#this season premier just didnt do it for me... 😔#long post
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vernon; blossomed (m)
feat. tattoo artist!vern x flower shop fem!reader based on nonnie’s big brain
genre/warnings: flangst, lang, wild generalizations of how tattooing works, gratuitous love for side characters, mild drinking, phineas and ferb references, mild foreplay
word count: 12k
Vernon called you his Rose.
Not exactly his Rose, because you were definitely not anyone’s property and he wanted to give you nothing but your full autonomy, but it’s because he’s never had the chance to ask for your real name.
But when he first spotted you in the little lavender and honey colored flower shop across the street, you were tending to the rose bushes at the front entrance. You were cutting roses and you didn’t look utterly graceful, in fact you stabbed yourself more than once with the thorns. He couldn’t help but laugh when you laughed when your co-worker had to hand you a new bandage every minute.
He decided then that he liked you, even if it’s not wholly sexual or romantic, he liked you.
Or maybe he just liked the idea of you, the way you’d lounge around in the canopy swing with your boots tucked under the seat, fluffy yellow socks wiggling out in the sun. Sometimes you’d read a book, sometimes for well over an hour. He liked how you soaked up the heat and created your own little world, happily unproductive.
It was only a seven meter walk from the flower shop to the tattoo parlor, but the view from his front window required zero walking distance and a sure-fire lack of ever bumping into you.
“Vernie’s got a crush on the Flower Girl,” Yoongi sing-songed, chugging along a box full of random-ass materials that Vernon was supposed to clean in the morning.
Vernon scowled, and swatted away the older one’s hand when it dived in front of his face.
Yoongi whistled like he was an old-time animation, singing the day away. “Vernie’s stalking his crush.”
“I’m not stalking,” Vernon snapped, swiveling around in his rolling chair. “that involves shit like literally following her around, photography, I dunno, being a weirdo?”
“You definitely qualify for one of those.” Yoongi replied tartly, and he fought the urge to grin when Vernon finally turned back to the window, only to narrowly miss your form. The swing was now unoccupied, the only thing remnant were your working boots lined up against the entrance. “It’s been what, two weeks? Just ask her out already.”
“You think I would’ve done that by now if there wasn’t a reason why?“
Soooo you were dating someone. Some super tall, super handsome guy would stroll up to the flower shop every morning, coffee in hand. Before you’d take your proffered coffee, he’d pucker his lips for a good-morning kiss in repayment. Vernon looked back to Yoongi, who was staring right back at him and confirming his suspicions that yes he was being a fucking weirdo for paying attention to things like that.
Yoongi pressed his lips together, puffing his cheeks out in slight irritation. “So you’re stalking a taken girl,” he whistled lowly, “should I regret hiring you?”
“Not funny.”
“As repayment for effectively creeping me out,” The older one slipped his hand into his electric yellow windbreaker to twirl Vernon a ring of keys. “You’re closin’ up for tonight.”
The brunette’s jaw dropped to his lap, and he got up from his spot by the window. “What? What happened to Minghao?”
“Sick,” Yoongi shrugged.
Closing up meant that Vernon had to stay until 12AM, at the very least. The area was off a college town and that meant a lot of young lucrative artists would stop by pretty late, hence the closing time. Usually Yoongi and Minghao were the night owls, but tonight Minghao was supposed to fly solo because Yoongi landed a last-minute recording gig. “C’mon, can I at least close early?” Vernon whined, “it’s summer. No one’s here.”
“What, ya gotta date or something?” Yoongi smirked, swinging the entrance open. Halfway out the door, he added loftily, “don’t forget to water Patricia. It’s been two weeks.”
The door slammed and Vernon was left alone. He spared a glance at the window, only to see that your boots were now gone from the patio and only one light was on in the shop. Vernon turned to his company for the night, their jade succulent, aptly named Patricia Planty.
With Patricia Planty watered and a stomach full of Wendy’s nuggets in his body, Vernon busied himself up for a grueling five hours. Thankfully he brought in his laptop, as if he were expecting Yoongi to pull a fast one on him tonight. He drew some random things on his tablet: rockets, stars, the occasional squirrel, and roses. When he was tired of drawing, he’d blast the speakers off the joint and mess around with some of his music programming. When he was tired of doing both, he’d vegetate on the couch and read Reddit articles.
It was past eleven when the first customer of the night stumbled in. Vernon fought the urge to groan, putting down the pen of his tablet on a particularly intricate constellation.
“We’re closed!” He yelled through the office door. A white lie, but who would know?
“Google said you were open until 12!” A voice yelled back, sounding slightly strained.
Crap. Vernon lowered the volume and pushed away the swivel chair, swinging the office door open. With a rough clear of his throat and hoping not to look like too much of a jerk, he faced his customer, “Welcome to Nu ABO—”
It was you. Cheeks ruddied, and your eyes glassed with a fresh glaze of tears. Your lower lip worried into a wobbly frown. Vernon’s Reebok’s glued to the concrete of the parlor, effectively stopping him in his tracks. The smell of mulch and a mixture of flowers penetrated his nostrils, but it did nothing to distract the utter hurt etched on your face.
“Um, hey,” his voice was gentle, yet unsure. “What are you doing here?”
You just looked at him, incredulous. Vernon could have sworn he saw your left eyebrow twitch. Of course, you’ve never met him in your entire life, yet Vernon felt like he knew you since the beginning of your summer work. “Gettin’ a tattoo.” You replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, rubbing away a stray tear.
He didn’t want to say it, but Vernon sighed and reasoned, “But it’s just that, ya kinda look—”
You brushed past him, going straight into the artist room and plopping on the worn leather chair meant for customers. It was still high up because Vernon was cleaning the underside of the metal, so you had to do a little hop to get on. “I don’t care what kind of design. I looked up your Yelp online and everything looked pretty good.” And you then proceeded to unbutton the top of your blouse.
“Holy shit,” he bounded over to you, grappling his fingers between your shirt before you could undo the rest of it. His breath was probably hot and heavy, compared to yours which was fresh from the cool summer air. Your faces were so close, closer than he ever fathomed. He didn’t think you two would meet this early in the year, as he was emotionally preparing to visit your flower shop at the end of the month, making up some spiel on how he needed to purchase real roses to replicate a commission. Not now. Now was a spontaneous episode, where he was trying to refasten your shirt and ignore the petal pink lace of your bra baiting his eyes.
When he sensed that you would in fact, stop taking your shirt off, he backed up. “It’s just that, after eleven we don’t really apply tattoos. We just take consultations.” He tried to sound defeated, rubbing the back of his neck. Again, another lie. But Vernon wasn’t about to ink you on the spot, especially when you looked like this.
“Is it because I’m upset?” You cried, “because I assure you, I’m in the right mind!”
He winced, lolling his head back and forth. “That’s debatable.”
You frowned, “C’mon, I have money. Just do me this one solid.”
“What? No, you don’t even know what you want!” Vernon was exasperated. Not that he imagined the first time meeting you would be a walk in the park, but at the same time he wasn’t expecting to argue with you.
"Don’t you want to be part of my spontaneous young life? Give me a tattoo that I’ll think about with my children 30 years from now?” He would laugh if you didn’t look like you were crying a river ten minutes ago. “As long as it’s not a tramp stamp, because I don’t think I can pull that off—"
"Did you break up with your boyfriend or something?” Vernon blurted out before he could regret it.
Your face morphed into something Vernon couldn’t understand. Pain, for sure. But a sort of relief knowing that you didn’t have to hide it. “Damn,” you give him a tired smile, “does the whole town know or something?"
You cried again. This time, Vernon reacted quicker. Pulling out a Wendy’s napkin from his flannel pocket, he proffered it to you. He was thankful you didn’t question whether it was clean or not (it was!) and you proceeded to cover your snot and tears all over it.
"Do you wanna talk about it?"
You sniffled and blew a particularly large chunk of snot before you shook your head.
"Do you… want fries?” He gestured to the small table in the room, which had some leftover fries from his combo. “I can heat ‘em up in the microwave."
Due to the fact that you ran out of tissue room, you rubbed your face with the entirety of your sleeve. You peeked out mid-rub, and replied with a soft, "hell yeah I do."
His heart twitched. Even betwixt your teary expression, you were so freakin’ cute. He shuffled back to the office, nuking the leftovers in the microwave until they were piping hot. Vernon waited a bit for them to get cool, and fiddled with the music so a soft R&B playlist bounced off the walls. He couldn’t believe you were here. Scratch that, he could, because you were bound to run into him one day due to pure proximity.
But he didn’t imagine you’d be plopped in his artist room at 11:32, bleary eyed and shoving potatoes in your mouth.
Vernon busied himself with his phone, and typed a hasty you wouldn’t believe what just happened… to the employee group chat.
[June 11, 11:33PM]
Bo$$ man: dont tell me u put aluminum in the microwave AGAIN
Hao hao: the chinese mafia came for me, didnt they? good thing I called out
Jeonghan is a prick: use your resources! sharp items are everywhere :) emergency money is under Patricia’s table
Bernie: tf is wrong w all of you
Bernie: SHES HEREEEEEE
"M'sorry,” you mumbled with a mouthful of fries, breaking Vernon from his mid-text crisis. He felt his phone buzzing like hell as he shoved it in his pocket, but ignored it for the sake of you. Your previous high of emotions has long worn off, and now you were looking a little embarrassed as you fixed your gaze on the empty container of fries. Your face is blotchy and red, and you’re especially puffy due to the salt you just consumed. “I should go home."
He didn’t want to be intrusive, but the look on your face showed it was clear that you didn’t want to go home just yet. Drumming his fingers against the metal table, he casually suggested, "Why don’t I do your back?"
You looked at him like he was crazy. "You still wanna tattoo me? After I cried like an idiot and ate your fries?"
"You’re not an idiot for being upset. And I offered you my fries.” He pulled out an ink canister, and a thin needle. “This is temporary ink we use to practice, or for customers who wanna test out the look. Lasts one to two weeks. And y'know, it’s a nice distraction."
You looked skeptical, unsure of his kindness. "Why my back?"
He shrugged, "It’s the biggest canvas. And if you don’t like it, you don’t have to look at it."
Still, you’re not convinced. There was something strange about him, something almost too sweet. While your schema may be marred by television and movies, the man in front of you didn’t seem like he quite fit into this little shack. He’s full of color, in his eyes and in his stature, his words clean and pure as he tries to soothe your aching heart. And as much as you tried not to check him out, you spotted no tattoos on any viewable part of his body.
"And it’s kind of cathartic, really.” He watched your lips quirk up in a smile at the word usage. Not only sweet, but probably smart. Your first smile all night. Cheeks effortlessly heated, he continued, “you kinda just let go into the feeling. And it’s always fun to not know what’s been drawn until the very end."
You’re curious. There’s excitement in your vision as he gestured to the available cot, inviting you. "Alright. Ink me up."
Vernon grinned, and started preparing the workspace. Handing you a medical gown, he quickly shuffled away to prepare the ink and needles. He didn’t really work with the clients as deeply as this, he was really just a glorified secretary that took care of the consultation. While he washed his hands, he heard the faint rustle of fabric, definitely your shirt and bra. He turned up the temperature of the water, acutely aware of how hot his hands were getting.
"Um,” your voice is muffled from being pressed up against the cot, your face presumably propped with pillows. “So are you Yoongi?"
"Nah, I’m Vernon.” He wheeled over a cart full of supplies, the metal clanging against the concrete. “’M usually the guy who wipes the sweat off his brow."
You hummed your own name in response, resting your cheek in the plushness of the cotton pillow. There’s a number of sounds paired with the R&B in the background. The smack of Vernon putting on gloves, the click of the needles and the slickness of the balm Vernon has applied on your back. His touch was warm, as his palm crescents across your back to soothe the balm into your skin. He then wiped it down with a paper towel until your skin was smooth and dry.
"Any ideas yet?” He asked, and from the corner of your eye you see him switch out a needle for a new ink pen.
“Maybe, stars?” Your voice is muffled against the cushions, as you’re hugging them close to your body. “And maybe something inspired by Spiderman? I liked that new one with Miles, he’s a cool one."
You could hear the smile in his voice, "I liked that one, too."
You stuff your own smile in your pillow, how embarrassing could it be that this stranger can make you feel better so fast? Mingyu would be groveling if he saw you now, topless, letting a man ink you up in however way he wished. "Will it hurt?"
He chuckled at that, "Nah. The ink will sit on top and sink in, I barely have to apply any pressure. Just relax."
Under the discretion of Vernon, who offered you fries and liked Spiderman, you relaxed. The first stroke of the needle and you were a goner. You closed your eyes and let him do his thing, You couldn’t tell what exactly was going on through his mind as he was painting your back, but you could tell his art was rather cacophonous: stiff pokes here and there, smooth strokes, and wide breaths of ink staining your back. The ink melted into your skin, bonding to your cells under Vernon’s careful control.
It was almost 1AM when he finished. He tapped your back, urging you up. Tired, and slightly dazed, you sat up. You realized a little too late that you’re only wearing a thin hospital gown, the straps having fallen midway through the process. The air was cool against your skin.
Vernon totally would’ve gotten a complete view of your sideboob if he wasn’t blushing like a maniac and looking away, and you respected that. His arm is punched out, fisting your button down. You hastily snatched it away, and turned around in order to look decent.
“The ink won’t show up fully for another six hours, so until then let me know how you like it.”
“Thank you so much,” you smiled gratefully as you do the last button of your blouse, and pulled out your phone. “Do you accept Venmo or Cashapp?”
“Oh, yeah.” He accepted the proffered device, and put in the necessary charges.
Once he gave back your phone, you added a sizable tip to the price he typed up. “The time really flew by,” you noted the time on the corner of your phone, 1:07. “It was really, an experience like you said.”
He shrugged, and threw you an easy smile. “I try.”
"Can I get a real tattoo from you someday? Y'know, when I’m ready?"
"Ah, no. I’m not really under the apprenticeship.” He looked bashful when he said it, as if he were caught doing something wrong. “I just work here for the part time money. I do art on the side, though.”
You had the urge to ask what he doesn’t do on the side, but it was late and you were probably holding up the poor guy for your trivial questions. “Regardless, I’m still thankful it was you that did this for me.”
In three strides, he opened the small door for you. “My pleasure. Have a good night. Or, morning. Or if you’re one of those people who don’t consider it morning unless it’s light out, then good night?”
“Good night,” you giggled, “get home safely.”
“You too.”
The screen door slammed shut behind you, along with the main door. Your car is parked in the grass patching of the flower shop. You jogged over, and the summer air made you shiver, your back still raw and warm under Vernon’s touch.
You couldn’t wait until the flower shop closed.
If Wonwoo noticed that you moved the porch swing relative to the placement of Nu ABO, he hasn’t brought it up. You weren’t spying on Vernon, no. But your skin was starting to itch with curiosity and in your haste to leave last night, you didn’t even ask what he designed on your back.
“Are you stalking the tattoo guy?”
Despite the voice being petal soft, you flinched. Assistant Manager Joshua Hong with a bouquet of boat lilies, was accusing you of stalking. His Converse tapped rhythmically against the wood paneling, looking down at you like a guilty child.
“What?” you floundered, waving around the florist magazine in your hands. “Josh, I’m studying! And the sun was in my face so I moved the swing.”
“You’re studying,” Joshua flickered his eyes to the run down shack across the road. “The tattoo guy?”
“I already said I wasn’t!”
“Then you’re telling me you spent all last night doing that,” he reached over to tug at your starched work collar, “all by yourself?”
Your hand flew to your neck, as if you were trying to hide Vernon’s hard work. “I just wanna see what he did, all right? And I’m trying to be very patient until closing because if Wonwoo sees me going there,” you jerked a head none-too-gracefully at the direction of the parlor, “he’s gonna tell you-know-who.”
Joshua frowned, because he already knew. After all, he stayed in the back room with you all last night, wiping away your tears. “Well, whoever did it is truly an artist,” he said genuinely, “it’s beautiful.”
Joshua finally left you alone, and you suddenly felt emptier than before. Sure, the breakup with Mingyu was conventionally bad, but why were you so conflicted with your feelings? You didn’t want Mingyu to know you were hanging out with other guys, but you wanted to let go of him. Maybe you were trying too hard too fast.
But Vernon made everything so, so easy.
No, you are not letting him be a rebound. The inner conflict in your head was giving you a massive headache, you couldn’t tell if the vibes you were feeling last night were because of the recent breakup or just an authentic spark.
The storm door shuttered boldly, and you jumped. Wonwoo stepped out, and gave you a weird look. “You alright?”
“Me? Yeah, fine.” You gripped the collar of your shirt and pretended to fasten the buttons.
He was unconvinced, either that or the pinched look he was sporting was an indicator of a bad day. “Listen, I know things are gonna be weird because my best friend is your, y’know,” he trailed off, painfully trudging through this conversation as easily as trudging through quicksand. “He’s gonna stop by a couple more times during the week, doing me a few errands. So if you wanna take the week off, recalibrate before the the month ends, just let me know. ”
“Won, please,” you wanted this to end, “we don’t have to talk about this, alright?”
He awkwardly twirled around his car keys. “Alright.” As simple as that, he threw himself in his sedan and drove off, dirt brushing the pavement.
You glared at the dust cloud until his car was far from your sights, the mustard color blinding your vision. “Honestly,” you said to yourself, finally hopping off your swing into the direction of the shack, “he thinks I’m five and never experienced heartbreak.”
“Welcome to Nu ABO!” this voice was different, and you slowed your steps. It doesn’t quite have the husk that Vernon’s voice held, but definitely matched the energy. The boy stepped out, and his eyes sparkled in recognition. “Flower Girll,” he said to himself, and you suddenly felt like you got caught, “I don’t think we’ve met before.”
"We haven’t,” you replied warily at the pet name, “where’s Vernon?"
"Oh, he’s around.” The guy waved noncommittally to the air in the room, crouching his head to look down at you. He stuffed his hands in his black overalls, which covered a painfully bright rainbow tye-dye tee. “Curious to see Vern’s ink though. He’s only ever done small stuff.”
“I thought he wasn’t an apprentice.”
He flicked his wrist around to show you a beautiful line of Chinese calligraphy. "Keep the secret between us, ‘kay?” He winked.
“Minghao, leave her alone.” Vernon stepped out of the small bathroom hidden in the artist room, a white towel behind his neck. You took in his disheveled appearance. His face was red from washing his face, and he wore the same clothes from yesterday. “Hey.” He said.
“Hi,” you replied, “did you sleep here last night?"
"Uh, yeah.” Vernon rubbed at his neck again, and stuffed the towel in his backpack. “I usually do the morning and afternoon shifts, I covered for this guy last night,” he jabbed his fist in Minghao’s shoulder, “but still had to do my day shift.”
“So,” Minghao rocked back and forth in his boots, “why are you here?”
You suddenly felt self-conscious, and gripped your phone between your two palms. A little part of you was disappointed that Vernon was not alone, but another part of you was relieved. It helped slow down the pace of your feelings (feelings?) that was heading in a direction you were not anticipating. “I wanted to say thank you again for last night.” You coughed, and Minghao grinned wider at your explanation. “And I was wondering if you could take a picture of my back? I haven’t had a chance to look at it.”
He beamed, and you could tell he was happy that you wanted to document his work. “Oh, of course! I completely forgot last night.”
Vernon moved to grab your phone, but Minghao swiped a hand in front of him. “Can I take your photo?” He asked you, although the look in his eyes said that you didn’t have much of a choice.
Your cheeks burned at the sudden intrusion. “Huh?”
“I mean, have you seen this guy’s Insta?” Minghao scoffed, albeit playfully as Vernon mirrored your flush.
“What are you talking about?” Vernon exclaimed, thoroughly insulted, “my profile is tastefully abstract.”
“It looks like it was tastefully done by a three year old.” Minghao pulled out his iPhone, and adjusted the filters. “I’m doing you a favor here, Flower Girl.”
You looked warily at Vernon, who slumped in defeat, “If you’re going for that e-girl vibe, I guess Hao’s a better photographer.”
“Better than your pictures coming out blurry.” Minghao shot back, holding the camera to your face. “There’s no light in here,” Minghao glared at the singular window in their tiny studio, the sill decorated with a single jade succulent. “Got any ideas?"
Vernon shrugged, "You said I have the taste of a three year old, so."
With Wonwoo gone for the day, you realized that you did have an idea of where you could take a tasteful picture. The thrill excited and terrified you. You only wanted a simple picture to see what it looked like, but Minghao looked as equally as excited to see your ink. Maybe it was the fact that the art was fleeting or that Vernon was really that talented, but it encouraged you to offer the setting up.
"I think our greenhouse has plenty of light,” you gestured out the studio’s only window, which was in perfect view of the flower shop. “We should be closing up soon, so it’s free."
Minghao nodded approvingly, "We can try."
And with a hasty "be back @ 4:20!” sign taped on the front door to Nu ABO, the three of them walked across the street to the greenhouse.
You went in first, nearly bumping into Joshua who was bent over, pot in hand.
“Hey Josh,” you grabbed the keys from the front desk, “borrowing the greenhouse."
"Hey Josh,” Minghao and Vernon mimicked, who found it amusing that you just brushed by without an introduction.
You rolled your eyes, hearing them exchange pleasantries and bro fists. The plexiglass doors to the greenhouse unlocked with a turn of your key, the smell of heat and grassy rain hitting your nostrils. Joshua placed the pot somewhere, following suit as the boys were right behind you.
“Awesome,” Minghao exhaled, stepping further into the greenhouse. It was a small one, but comfortable enough for a couple patrons to browse around. “I’m gonna move around some plants if that’s okay, I gotta vision.”
Joshua looked a little frazzled watching Minghao talk to himself and start moving the settings around (“The hydrangeas don’t go there, are you crazy?”) and started helping Minghao move the pots and placements around. You and Vernon hung around the entrance, giggling to yourselves.
You tried to bump his shoulder, which didn’t even reach his. “So, what’s your Insta handle?”
He quirked his brows at that, “Why, so you can judge my aesthetic too?”
“No,” you replied, faking your shock. “I would never insult your taste!”
With a roll of his eyes he said, “Speaking of taste, since your shift is over and my shift is over,” Vernon rocked back and forth on his feet. “Wanna grab a bite?”
Something’s fluttering in your stomach, and you stomp it down. It’s an innocent invite, yes. Unfortunately it was not-so-innocent in your twisted mind knowing that you are still fresh from a breakup, yet your backed is marked with Vernon’s work. “You must be tired though,” you tried to reason, “you should get some rest, I don’t wanna bother you.”
“Not a bother,” he said immediately, “besides, I wanna ask you something.”
That got you curious. Before you had a chance to ask, Minghao was ushering you over, telling you to stand in front of a bundle of orchids. They’ve bloomed a Canary yellow, encasing you in a golden ring of flowers overlooking the terrace. The new friend has gestured for you to undo your shirt and he turned away in respect. It’s different with an audience and an expectation. You made haste to undo the buttons of your blouse, then your bra, throwing it aside. You felt the warm, moist air kiss your back, and you heard a low whistle coming from Minghao.
“Beautiful,” Minghao exhaled, “Vern, you’ve outdone yourself."
Beautiful. Vernon made you beautiful.
Your body was simmering, and you could do nothing as you let Minghao photograph you. You focused your eyes on a puddle dripping from a faucet in front of you, counting the seconds between each droplet.
“And, done.”
You shoved on your clothes, and felt extra awkward as you fumbled to reach for the straps of your bra. You nearly slipped on the puddle as you walked back to the boys, who were busy over Minghao’s shoulder.
“Super awesome,” Minghao handed you the phone brightly, “so much texture and feeling.”
The screen showed a halo of foliage that surrounded your bare back, blush orchids kissing the frame with color. Your work shirt bundled under your hips, and fell under your elbows to reveal a city sky. You were breathless, zooming in to capture every detail of the ink. A navy sky, blanketing buildings across your back in a diagonal, splaying from the bottom right to the top left. On the bottom, skyscrapers reaching for the stars.
If you zoomed in enough, you could tell that the stars were shaped like roses.
“I don’t know how many times I’ve said thank you in the past two days,” you started, causing Vernon to grin widely. “But thank you, I’ve never felt so beautiful.”
Vernon scoffed, “I didn’t do anything, I’ve only enhanced your beauty. That’s our shtick.”
You handed Minghao back your phone and thanked him. He then rushed off, saying he had to stay at the parlor since Yoongi was coming soon. Immediately, Joshua began putting back the plants in their rightful places. You and Vernon followed suit, starting with the smaller ones.
“So,” Vernon picked up a tray of succulents, “are we still on for dinner?”
Wide-eyed Joshua crept in-between the foliage, laughably appearing under a series of hanging plants like a madman. “Dinner?” he asked, looking between you two.
“Yeah man,” Vernon reached to pull Joshua away from the plants, “wanna come?”
Simultaneously disappointed and relieved, you let out a subconscious exhale. Joshua was coming, which meant that there would be no possibility for feeling weird (or catching feels), being awkward or fighting any oncoming feelings with Vernon.
"On Thursdays there’s this really good half-off sushi deal by my place. We can take out and eat at my apartment?” Joshua’s kindness was palpable at the offering of his home, and the both of you smiled gratefully.
Not more than two hours later, the three of you are bundled away in Joshua’s two-room, empty boxes of carryout stacked high. The television was playing reruns of Full House, the only source of light in the dim space.
“Are you gonna go home soon?” Vernon asked, and turned his head to the corner of the room. Joshua is cuddled up in the single couch, tucked in a wearable blanket with the armholes.
You shrugged, “I dunno. Usually I crash here for sushi nights,” you patted the couch lovingly, “This is my second bed.”
Vernon chuckled, tucking his feet under his thighs. It made him look impossibly small in comparison to how tall and lanky he actually was.
“So, what did you want to ask me?”
Vernon looked between his legs, as if he were trying to piece his words together. “Long story short, I got waitlisted at my top graduate school option,” he then pulled up his phone, revealing the picture of your back that was taken that afternoon, “but I was thinking that if I made a portfolio of this kind of art, it would really tip my application over the edge. Originally I was thinking of just sending my usual art, but it just popped in my head today while we were doing it.” He looked up through his eyelashes, wisps of copper looking expectantly at you. “If you’re comfortable with it, would you be my canvas?”
“Live art,” you surmised, “honestly, I’m honored that you would want me to be a part of something so big. You think I’m that good?”
No, you weren’t doubting Vernon’s art one bit. The fact that your back would be out on display for a bunch of strangers was unnerving, to say the least.
“Are you kidding?” Vernon zoomed out of the image, revealing the curve of your back and the generation of life reflected in the greenhouse. “This is wicked. You’re stunning. We’d make a great team!”
You felt your body heat at the statement. His presence was almost too refreshing, and you wanted to return the favor of helping you out last night.
“Lucky for you,” you shot a quick text to Wonwoo, “I’ve planned to take this week off.”
Over the course of the week Vernon wanted to do an artistic timeline of sorts, adding and retouching the already existing ink on your back until the canvas was full. It felt fulfilling, letting yourself become a vessel of success for someone. The following day, Vernon shot you a text revealing his portfolio, and said how excited he was to see you.
You met in the shack after his shift, and Vernon let you into the office and locked the door. You can hear the rap being played in the artist room where Minghao and Yoongi were working with a client.
The artist was muttering to himself as he invited you to sit at the couch. Something about whether he wanted to start from the “top-down” or “bottom-up.” Instead of contributing to his madness, you turned away from him and started shedding your shirt. Today was a plain cotton shirt, and you shucked it off and balled it in your arms.
No less than five seconds was Vernon’s hands on your back, and despite the warmth radiating from his fingertips, you couldn’t help but shiver. Vernon had explained that while he did a large portion of your back the first time, there was still room for growth and he wanted your back filled by the end of the week.
“Do you mind if I,” his hand hovered over your bra.
You shook your head, and with his thumb and forefinger he flicked off both your bra straps with ease. Your hands flooded themselves in the fabric of your t-shirt, which silently accepted your death grip.
“Sorry, do you feel weird?” He definitely sensed your lack of vocality, and put one strap back in case.
“I’m fine,” your voice is light, what else could you say?
“Whatever you say,” he hummed, and resumed his work.
You opt to take in the sounds. Minghao laughed about something in the other room, coupled with the zing of the needle. The music pulled to a stop and boomeranged back into a smoother arrangement.
“I think we’ll start from the bottom-up and build from there,” he then placed his hands around your waist, poking at the dive between your waist and your bottom.
There’s an unmistakable heat that pooled within you, which caused you to wring your shirt harder. It was going to be a long week.
By Wednesday, he was in your apartment, working on the sides of your waist. The day after every session, Vernon would take a picture of yesterday’s work and show it to you. A gummy grin would always take over his face, either proud of himself or happy that you loved the new addition.
Despite the fact that the only thing covering your body was a thin gown medical taken from the shop, every pore of your body felt unbelievably hot. You really shouldn’t be mixing alcohol on a Wednesday night, but Vernon was excited that he was halfway done with the project and it was time to be “poppin’ bottles.”
You felt a little drowsy as a result of that, but nothing terrible. Like he said, the feeling was cathartic.
“Aren’t you drunk too?” you murmured into your navy blue whale plush, “what if you accidentally stab me?”
Vernon laughed, and it shook the couch. You couldn’t see his face as he sat on the floor, getting in the crevices of your skin. He poked at your skin a little harder than usual, as if he were testing the possibility. “That’d still take a lot of strength.”
“You’d be surprised,” you sighed, “those little sticks florists use to keep the babies upright? Flat as a thumb and I still manage to impale tomatoes with them.” He doesn’t respond to that, and you’re left drowning in your own answer. You wondered if he truly thought you were a crazy tomato-killer, or was concentrated on detailing a particular patch of skin. “Can I tell you a secret?” you blurted, “honestly, I think flowers are beautiful, but I really hate working at the florist. The only reason I’m doing it is because Joshua really needed the help and he knew I wasn’t going to do shit until my city job starts in September.”
“Huh,” Vernon stopped, resting the heel of his hand on your back. “That’s funny. Explains all the cursing when you’re cutting roses outside.”
“You’ve watched me outside?” you grinned into your cushion, “creepy much?”
“Do you wanna know a secret?” Vernon blurted, evading your question with one of his own, “I’ve had the biggest crush on you since you came by in May.”
You tensed, and if Vernon noticed, he didn’t react. He kept on doing his business, marking your back with baby’s breath. It had to be the alcohol talking. If he drank at all, you couldn’t even tell because you couldn’t get up and he was strikingly coherent. All this time, and you didn’t even notice?
“You don’t have to answer,” he said, as if he knew you were strung speechless. “I just, wanted to say it. We’re cool.”
And you agreed, pretending to fall asleep.
Friday was around the corner before you knew it, and Vernon wanted to photograph the final piece where it all started. The greenhouse was devoid of human life at the crack of dawn, unless you counted Joshua who was asleep on the counter because he was the only one with a key that knew of your recent escapades with Vernon.
Vernon was just as tired as you are, but he was adamant about having the photo taken at dawn, as the first picture was taken in the late day. There was some contrived symbolism attached to it that you didn’t really understand, but you trusted his vision. Besides, your panda eyes wouldn’t be revealed in the photo, so you could master the art of sleeping upright while he took photos.
“Alright,” Vernon set up his camera. He was dressed in a university zip up and matching sweatpants, like he just rolled out of bed. “Everything’s set up, whenever you’re ready.”
Likewise with you, and you pulled off your hoodie, not bothering with a bra. Despite the fact that the room was temperature controlled, the cold morning air still managed to worm its way to your bare top. You quickly rubbed down your gooseflesh with your palms.
You two engaged in a comfortable silence as you tested out your poses and he adjusted his frame. After a couple of practice shots, the air seemed calmer.
“Cold?” Vernon asked casually.
“Anything that isn’t under the sheets of my bed is cold as hell,” you muttered, trailing your fingers delicately across your waist.
“That’s a nice pose,” Vernon said to himself, “we’re almost done. Then you can go to bed for the rest of your day. Unless you’re down for breakfast?"
You two still haven’t spoken about his little confession the other day, but in all honesty there was no reason to bring it up. Your lives were going in different directions, and you knew Vernon deserved more than a halfhearted summer fling.
"I think I’m down for bed and breakfast,” you replied wryly.
“Smart girl,” Vernon chuckled, “can you change your pose for me? Like, pretend that you’re stretching.”
You didn’t understand what he meant by that, so you ended up flexing your arms in different directions.
“No, we’re not doing yoga.” He let his camera swing around his neck as he rushed over to you. The sun was a soft white, the antithesis of golden hour as you two rushed to make the magic happen. He grabbed your arms from behind, twisting the left wris in an unusual angle.
"Ah, Vernon!” You jerked around to face him, now fully awake. “I’m not a Barbie doll, you can’t just move me like that."
Vernon doesn’t respond. He let go of you as soon as you screamed, eyes blown wide and pupils a thick black. His stare is frozen to yours, and his hand is in mid-air, a centimeter away from your bare breasts.
"Oh,” you said, “did I whack you with my boob when I turned?"
"Yeah, you boobed me.” Vernon looked afraid to stare anywhere but your face. “I’m so sorry."
"It’s okay,” you bit the inside of your lip, “I don’t mind if you touch me there."
Now, Vernon looked terrified.
It’s been a long week. A long, surreal week. You wanted to tell Vernon about your conflicted feelings, you wanted to ask about his little crush, and what on earth did he find appealing about you. You wanted to tell him how much you trusted him with your body, and how you wanted him to do more to you than just ink.
It’s then, the gaping boy shook himself together. His hands encircled your neck, haloing at the finishing piece of his work, an echelon moon. Vernon’s fingers trailed to cup your face, and you felt your whole body warm in anticipation. Patient, you waited for his carmine eyes to flutter shut, and you smiled, finally closing yours—
"The fuck is this?"
In an instant, the air was sucked out of you like a blackhole, and Vernon immediately shielded you, throwing his jacket across you like a towel.
"Mingyu,” you said shakily, clutching the cotton coat tighter around your form.
It’s then that a no-longer bleary-eyed Joshua stumbled into the greenhouse, seconds too late.
Mingyu threw down the sack of fertilizer he hauled on his back, black dirt smattering the floor. “Its been barely a week and you’re fucking someone in the greenhouse, of all places?” Mingyu was angry, plain and simple. “I thought we agreed on a break."
"You agreed on a break,” your thighs were numb from leaning on them, but Vernon’s hand on your back encouraged you to get on your feet. “I agreed that two years was too long to wait."
"And who are you?” Mingyu squinted his eyes at Vernon.
“He’s none of your business,” you stepped in front of him, tugging his hoodie closer around your frame.
Mingyu’s face fell in realization, and he looked between you two with forlornness that made your stomach churn. “C’mon baby,” your nails embedded themselves in your palm at the jab, “can we go outside and talk about this?”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” your voice was paper thin, but loud enough for Mingyu to hear across the room, “I’d prefer you leave us alone, and do not talk to me ever again.”
It took all your composure to turn around, and you glared a hole into Vernon’s chest. You felt your body bleed goosebumps around your arms and legs, not out of weather, but out of anxiety. You hugged yourself to shut the prickly feeling down. You heard Joshua do the only helpful thing this morning and it’s his soft utterances that finally pulled Mingyu out of the greenhouse. ,
What’s left is the drip of the hose, and the two of you, unmoved.
Thankful for the silence, you looked up at your companion, who was speechless. Vernon’s lower lip was puckered out slightly, face contorted as if to say I’m sorry, that kinda sucked. The tell-tale signs of emotional overload began to prick at your eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” you wiped your face. Since when did you start crying? “I’m so sorry that I let all of this happen, and I let myself let this happen, and I’m such a mess and I’ve been trying to hide it all this time, but I’m selfish and I just wanted to see what would turn out of it.”
“What are you apologizing for?” Vernon tried to lighten up the mood, and offered you an easy smile and reached for a hug.
“I’m sorry because I don’t know if I like you or not!” you outburst, and pushed him out of arm’s reach. “I feel so fucking guilty I just got out of a relationship and I can’t tell if I like you or I like your attention, honestly. And it isn’t fair because you’re just so sweet and kind and easy to love. Either way at the end of the summer I’m moving into the city for my full-time job. And I, I, I don’t know!”
Vernon forced his way into your space, barely a foot apart. He didn’t touch you, but his warmth still emanated from the jacket you were wearing. He didn’t seem upset, then again you were probably upset enough for the both of you.
“Hey, I offered to do your back because I knew you needed a distraction,” Vernon said softly, “no strings attached, ever. You do you, right? Focus on yourself.”
You wished he was mean about this. It would’ve made it easier. “What if this is the last time we talk? What if I want to ignore you for the rest of the summer?” you murmured, already knowing you. should enjoy these final moments.
“We’ll live,” he shrugged, and finally broke the space between you. His lips planted themselves between your forehead, melting away the lines that marred your brows apart, “and we’ll heal.”
The city was daring. The city was unforgiving.
You tugged your scarf closer around your neck, which constricted your airflow but also prevented any possible windchill from slicing your neck. In your other hand you were hauling a week’s worth of work in a luggage that had once packed your things in August and sent you to this very career path.
As much as you loved your new life, you wished things would be a little more boundless. The box of your workspace, the box of the elevator, and the box of your goshiwon apartment were starting to feel particularly stifling this weekend.
It was Friday (or FriYay, as your co-workers dubbed) and that meant a weekend vegging out with a comfort meal and a new movie. There was a Burger King and a Gongcha under your apartment complex, both calling your name.
Boba and burgers, the perfect way to end a week.
You munched on your fries as you scanned the Gongcha menu, craving something sweet to contrast with your salty meal.
It is then a low, sultry whisper sauntered in your direction (in a Gongcha, with children) and you almost choked on your fry. “I would know that back anywhere,” the offender drawled.
What a strange pick-up line. The paper bag crinkled in your grip, and you turn around to see a familiar perky face in a scarlet Adidas tracksuit. Of all the places, he was here.
“Hey, Flower Girl.” Minghao greeted, wiggling his fingers in a wave. He was on a tall stool, long legs splayed out and a cup of oolong milk tea hung lazily in his grip. His cup was at least 50% ice, and he was shaking the cup like a rattle every ten seconds.
“Normally, people would start with a simple hello,” you replied wryly, ushering him over to wait with you in line.
“Normally,” Minghao shrugged, and slipped an arm around your shoulders as if you were long lost friends, “how have you been doing? Planting gardens for the spring?”
“Please,” you scoffed. To Joshua and Wonwoo’s chagrin, you’ve forgotten a lot since the summer. “I can’t even make a corsage anymore, my brain’s on overload. What about you?”
It looked like he was waiting for you to ask that. You barely got your order in before he started spitting out his story. “Didn’t you hear?” Obviously you didn’t, and he didn’t give you a chance to answer. “Two letters. RM.” Again, nothing. “The RM? The hottest rapper in Korea? Anyway, he was one of our clients in August—he got a sick design of a koala and an alpaca, cooler than you think—and gave us a massive tip on his Instagram story. We were famous overnight! We were getting crazy clients left and right—fuckin’ Sana wanted a little heart on her sternum, hottest thing.”
“So you were able to relocate the parlor to the city?”
“The big push was when Yoongi dropped RM his demo,” he shook his cup furiously, ice clanging, as if he never got tired of this story. “Like, I didn’t even know they were texting! I’ve been running the parlor mostly, I’ve always wanted to live in the city, but RM funded a lot of it and is helping Yoongi make his mix.”
In the back of your head, the question of an aspiring grad student was niggling in your brain, but you pushed it down. “So, if Yoongi’s working on his demo and you’re supposed to be running the parlor, why aren’t you there now?” you asked.
He stared at you as if it were the most obvious choice. “Because I’m here, drinking boba with you.” Minghao then grabbed your finished drink from the employee’s hand, ushering you out the door. “And now you’re going to follow me, because my break was over fifteen minutes ago.”
“What?”
“I have your boba,” he’s already out the door, waving your precious beverage like a fish to its line. “Hurry up, now I’m sixteen minutes late!”
You groaned, lugging your suitcase full of work and now cold french fries back into the freezing weather. The wheels of your suitcase are cracking in exhaustion, mirroring yours. You just wanted your damn milk tea, hot fries, and a Netflix catch-up. What was the point of following Minghao to Nu ABO, when there was no reason to be there other than …
“Oof!” your face slammed into Minghao’s back. The light was red. “Did Vernon move here too?”
“Duh, who else would be covering for me?”
“You’re trying to set me up!” You cried in betrayal, jabbing him in chest with your finger. “Y'know what, I’m just going to get another boba. You keep that.”
You two glared at each other. Minghao looked relentless, ignoring whoever was bumping into him on the streets. His eyes suddenly glinted to your rolling luggage, and he snatched it from your grip, running into the streets.
“Can’t replace your work, right?” He laughed, forcing you to chase him down the block.
You felt sweat start to develop on your back, contrasting with the icy weather. Your work blazer and pinstripe loafers were not suited for vigorous activity. Minghao has an unfair advantage, being tall and athletic, and you had just finished half a bag of Burger King. Damn him.
Minghao stopped in front of a sunken in building, with stairs leading downwards to a neon-lit parlor with the name glittering in electric periwinkle font. Flustered, you gasp at the cold air, finally able to stop. Despite having lost your breath ten meters ago, you managed to tell Minghao you’re proud that they have a real parlor.
Your heart was beating in your ears, and you can’t tell whether it was because you haven’t worked out in months, or because Vernon was behind that door.
Minghao dumped your luggage behind the reception area, and went straight into the artist room. This new parlor was much bigger, so when Minghao disappeared into a hallway he was out of your sight. You wait around, letting yourself sink into the familiar hip hop playlist. There are pictures littering the walls, all covered with a clean black frame. You see Yoongi and the supposed RM, sporting his koala and alpaca ink (which actually did look sick) and some photos of Minghao’s work, all of his designs being simultaneously colorful and graceful.
It’s then in the epicenter of this wall is a long black frame that cut across the horizon, seven images of a woman with flowers and stars inking her back.
Your back.
“Beautiful, right? I’m sure it takes you back.” Minghao was over your shoulder, flicking his fingers between the photos. “Lots of customers have requested these designs. He never makes them the same way, though.”
Instead of answering, you followed Minghao down the hallway and into the artist room. Vernon had just finished with a client. Poking in head first, you saw him ticking off protocol off a printed list, speaking concisely. The client was listening intently, and you see he has an arm sleeve with peonies. It’s then he noticed Minghao intruding once more, and frowned.
“Dude, you got milk tea without me?” Vernon said, affronted.
“Ya didn’t ask.” Minghao vigorously shook the ice in your tea like a baby rattle.
“You didn’t mention it, therefore I couldn’t have asked.”
“You’re so smart, Hannie,” he beamed at him like a proud parent complimenting his son, “that’s why he’s going to grad school.”
You let yourself in fully, and you felt shy as Vernon’s lips parted slightly upon realizing who his second guest was.
“Hey,” Vernon exhaled, and gave you a small smile. He looked happy, content. As handsome as ever, he ran a gloved hand through his hair, soft curls bouncing as he shifted around the parting. “This is uh, a surprise.” his eyes flickered to Minghao, who held his arms out in a passive shrug. “A good one to end the week.”
“Hi,” you bit your lip, feeling shy, “so, you decided to get certified and you’re going to grad school? I missed out on a lot.”
“That’s okay, we got time.” Vernon assured, “besides the fact that I got a project due tomorrow morning that I’ve barely started, and then I have a field trip I gotta go to on Sunday—”
Before it could drag on any longer, Minghao hacked out a very loud, and very fake cough. You broke out of the rêve, and muttered a “gimmie that” before snatching your precious bubble tea out of Minghao’s hand.
Vernon mirrored the cough, more out of embarrassment than annoyance. “Lemme finish up with this client, yeah?” And he jerked his head back to the patient, going on about safety.
Minghao led you out of the room, whispering a “you’re welcome” in your ear that taunted you for the rest of the night.
Vernon finished at 5, just like he did back in the little shack at university square. He came out in a 2XL neon green hoodie, leading the client out the door and telling him to “take it easy”. As soon as the client’s gone, he comes over to you. You’re still staring at your pictures, as if you couldn’t believe that you were on display, looking like a tasteful nude model.
“Hi again,” he said, dusting the imaginary dirt off his pants.
“Hi,” you replied, feeling tingly at the sound of his voice. Did you really miss him that much?
"Um, is it cool if I hug you?"
It certainly has been awhile. You nodded, unsure if you could form a coherent response because you could tell Vernon was blushing and he was being too damn adorable for you to handle.
Upon permission, he brightened. The warmth of his cotton hoodie enveloped you like the way hot chocolate feels after a cold day. You breathed in his scent, realizing how much you missed the scent of fresh laundry, especially on him.
"How are you?” He asked casually.
“Uh, m'okay.” You answered softly, “a little cold nowadays."
He hugged you tighter in response. With one more squeeze he let himself go, but kept you at an arm’s length. "Wanna get dinner?"
You looked at him funny, "didn’t you say you had a project due tomorrow morning that you haven’t started?"
Without missing a beat he altered, "Wanna get takeout? I’ll do work and eat while,” his eyes darted to your luggage, “you do work?"
While you wanted to say that it was Friday (FriYay!) and you weren’t planning to open Pandora’s Box until Sunday night, you obliged and followed him to his place.
On the way over, Vernon got his well-needed milk tea (and your second round) with two matching cartons of jajangmyeon. You trailed behind him rather than next to him, due to the fact that he was also lugging a Joshua-sized canvas on his back. In fear of being knocked out or ruining his work, you settled for walking a meter apart.
Vernon lived on the second floor of his complex. You imagined a sizable one-room similar to your goshiwon, but you’re in awe when you see a fully furnished living room and kitchen. You smiled at the singular jade plant decorating the windowsill, one you remembered as Patricia Planty one session months ago. The hardwood was so shiny you could see your reflection in them. Kicking off your shoes, you stumbled over the kitchen countertop, reveling at the onyx granite.
"I’ve never seen this much granite in my entire life!” You cried, spreading your hands over the cool rock. It was so well polished, you could see your reflection. He was certainly living the high life this year.
Vernon shook his head, setting the take out down and pulling out the containers. “It’s RM’s old place. I rent it out with the guys."
"God, this is ten times better than my place! Your kitchen is bigger than my apartment!"
He flicked your bowl of jajangmyeon over to your side of the countertop, the sauce and noodles premixed for you. "Eat up, babe.” He stuffed a radish in his mouth, now working to mix his own noodles, “we got a lotta catchin’ up to do."
Whether it was your hunger or the casual use of the word "babe”, you abandoned the granite for now and did as told.
An hour later, you’re flipping through their mounted TV, taking full advantage of their Disney+ subscription as Vernon is laying on the floor.
“I thought you were working,” you chastised, letting yourself sink further into their couch. It was like resting on a big, fluffy marshmallow. You never wanted to leave.
Vernon is splayed out like a starfish, papers and watercolors spread around him. His large body stood out against the white linoleum floor, his neon green hoodie reflecting on the shiny surface. “I am.” he replied blandly, “I’m waiting for lightning to hit me with a burst of inspiration."
"Grad school’s biting you in the butt?"
"Big time."
Another bout of silence hit the two of you, and it was surprisingly nice. You finally started to notice that Vernon is picking up some art utensils and is doodling something. (He still is on the floor and hasn’t sat up properly, but progress is progress.)
It felt oddly domestic, but you didn’t mind. There was no need to ask about the past, Kim Mingyu, or any other silly drama you two entrapped yourselves into last summer. What mattered now was the warmth of each other’s presence on this chilly night.
Your eyes are heavy and fighting against the long day, and before you know it, you’re asleep just as Rapunzel escapes Gothel’s tower.
You haven’t awoken to the morning sun in a long, long time. While the notion sounded awfully depressing (because it was), you really didn’t have much of a choice because the goshiwon was closet sized, and closets had no windows. But today, the sun blasted you, forcing you up. This was accompanied by the the tell-tale sounds of breakfast, which was weird because you only ever ate cold food in your room, because there was zero ventilation. The scent of dark roast muddled your senses, forcing you awake. You twitched at the sudden stench, and snapped your back straight. Were your walls always this pristine white?
"Didn’t know you were this early in the game, Flower Girl."
You never went home. While Vernon was long gone and probably off presenting some haphazard art, Minghao and Yoongi (for the first time, in the flesh!) were watching you from their marbled island, while you rubbed the crusties out of your eyes. "Usually, encroaching on a significant other’s apartment is reserved for the 5th or 6th date.” Minghao teased, waving his Nutella toast in your face.
“Oh, shut up,” you glared at Yoongi, who was slowly chewing on his own toast. There’s was black spark in his eyes, like he’s relishing on whatever has unfolded. “And you, you. I know this is the first time we’ve met and you haven’t said a word. But shut up too. Your thoughts are awfully loud.”
You’re embarrassed, and you pull up your hands to mediate your fired cheeks. Instead of your palms, you feel worn cotton dabbing at your face. You wiggled your fingers under the neon green hoodie. Vernon put on his clothes for you to wear. You were in a very uncompromising position, and his roommates were reveling every second of it.
Yoongi shrugged, throwing you a flippant grin. “Whatever you say, Flower Girl.”
Contact emerged in the form of texts and images. You wondered how Vernon managed to keep things casual in light of how sudden your meeting was, but you relished in the way things fell naturally.
[February 19, 2:10PM]
Vern: Is this still your number
Vern: If so, here’s what i submitted for my project
Vern: IMG.934
Vern: if not, pls enjoy this picture of a pink platypus. the medium was watercolor nd if you’re curious, i got the idea from sunsets and phineas and ferb. Enjoy your day
You: hey look, there’s perry
Vern: nice
Vern: wait, this doesn’t confirm if ur u or a stranger
Vern: are u just a perry enthusiast
Vern: evidence pls
[February 19th, 6:08PM]
You: IMG.48
[February 20th, 12:22AM]
Vern: ooh
Vern: look cute in my hoodie
You’ve toggled with the idea of just cutting straight through the bush and asking him out the next time you see him in person. A little part of you liked the chase, however. That feeling where you’re tugging between friendship and something more, and you can’t help but feel like you’re fifteen everytime his name popped up in your messages. You self-dubbed it the-honeymoon-to-the-honeymoon phase.
[February 27, 5:34PM]
Vern: what are you up to
You: it’s hour 32. I’ve been under the covers and have survived solely on celery and honey-butter chips. currently binging all netflix comedies. debating on whether to send for help otherwise i may never get up
Vern: that’s the spirit
By the time two weeks passed, you felt confident enough to ride off the mutually weird text messages and constant contact to meet with him. By then, you’re knees deep in the honeymoon-to-the-honeymoon phase. You’re languidly floating in that river, hoping you’re not rushing it by agitating the waters.
[March 8th, 10:10PM]
You: hey
You: you up?
Vern: nah. mastered the art of sleep textin
You: just wanted to ask if you could help me pick out a tatt that would fit me
You: if you were available. I’ve heard from the mullet-monster that you’re a hot commodity drowning in appts and deadlines
Vern: wait forreal?
Vern: i can pencil u in. tomorrow night @11?
You: so soon? What happened to being busy
Vern: not for u. Already have an idea in mind
By the time you arrived Saturday night, Minghao was slapping your back across the door, gabbing on about a “major banger” they were missing uptown. He looked the part, the only person you knew that could fill out an all-studded denim fit. Like a disco ball at a rodeo. He barely said good-bye before he hopped in a Lyft, cheering for freedom.
You poked your head into the artist room, and saw Vernon playing on his phone. His fist dug into his cheek, carob pupils glazed over. You almost felt bad for wanting his attention this late.
“You usually do the day shift,” you commented quietly, holding up a bag with two milk teas in hand.
Vernon looked up, illuminating in a half-smile. “Y’know me, always covering. Just for the hour though, this shouldn’t take long since we’re just looking at ideas.”
He slapped a hand on the client chair. This one was much better than the cot they had in their shack. This one was pure leather and gleamed high quality. You placed your drinks on the countertop and eagerly bounced onto the seat. “Comfy,” you murmured, and wriggled your sneaker-clad feet.
“Good,” there’s a sharp snap from the plastic seal and Vernon is sipping into his milk tea seconds after you put it down. He’s chewing on a particularly large gulp, gnawing on pearls like no one’s business. With his rolling chair, he slid over to you, seamlessly reaching for your wrist.
If he noticed that you’re wearing a particular neon item, he doesn’t comment. He turned on the overhead lamp, letting a soft white light bathe your form. When he finally spoke, he chanted your name in a sing-song, tapping your wrist in beat. It’s as if he were envisioning the color blooming on your skin.
You let him do his thing, and he pulled out his phone, scrolling through his gallery. You see pictures of his friends, some of his family, and digital art. He scrolled slower at the myriad of images: a colorful orca, lavender constellations, and budding roses.
You were seeing a lot of flowers nowadays, with the burgeoning of spring and the recent ending of Valentine’s. It’s only now that you notice how apparent the theme is throughout the parlor, particularly in Vernon’s affinity.
“Why don’t you call me it?” you asked softly, peering over his form to see him mulled over a picture of periwinkle lupines.
“Huh,” he’s distracted, and has now swiped back to the colorful orca image.
“Flower Girl,” you uttered, “they call me that, but you don’t.”
Vernon clicked his phone down, the lupines flicked away. He peered at you through his lashes, the white overhead making his eyes appreciably bright. “Before I knew your name,” he started slow, making faces to himself as if he were debating on whether to tell you, “I’d call you Rose. You were always by the rose bush planted outside the shop.”
“Avoiding work,” you crinkled your nose, however relished in the endearment, “being named after a rose is too big a compliment.”
He snorted, “That’s what they said. Hence, Flower Girl was born,” he’s easy about it, but now he’s put his phone down and is rubbing circles in your wrist. You wonder if he felt how clammy your palms were getting from the minute intimacy.
“You know what flower I’d compare to you?” you asked, “freesias.”
“And what do those mean?”
“Thoughtfulness,” the pad of his thumb still lingered on your skin, his grip painfully apparent. “And renewal.”
“Why renewal?”
“Because,” you swallowed, “you make me feel renewed. And this time I’m sure it’s because it’s you.”
Vernon looked like he wanted to smile, trying so very hard not to embarass you whilst you poured your heart out with delicacy. His coral lips were tucked in a thin line, teeth biting at his lower lip. Drop by drop, he was going to accept that dew with as much care as possible. “Only me,” he inquired, pressing into your pulse.
Your mouth was sand dry. “Uh-huh.” You exhaled a breath long clutched in your throat, hot air fanning into Vernon’s face. He paid no mind, and (to no avail) was still trying to hold in his smile. “You’re dimples are showing,” you whined, poking the little dip in his cheeks with your free hand. “Use your words.”
“Like?” he elongated, playing dumb. You supposed you earned his brand of torture, after all, seven months is a long time to make up for.
“Like how we want the same thing?” you tried.
“How do you know I want what you want?” he feigned, furrowing his thick brows. Acting could’ve been another career possibility for him, portrayed by the way his eyes were blown with confusion, his mouth parted like a kitten.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Forget words!” you broke, nearly shaking from the nerves.
It’s then that Vernon finally gave you a concrete response. His grip on your wrist was near painful as he eagerly tugged you closer, kissing you. There’s enthusiasm in every action from the way he pulled you closer, large hands melding to cup your cheeks. A little part of you is both breathless and invigorated at the energy stinging the room, and you can barely keep up until Vernon spilled kisses down your neck.
He threw up the armrest holding him back, tucking his knee between your legs as he lapped you up, kissing you fully. The chair was much too small for the both of you, his large body pressing you further into the cushions.
He sat up a bit, bumping his head on the lamp. He paid no mind. “By the way, I like you, too.” Vernon puttered cheekily, rubbing his scalp. Just as swiftly, he latches onto your neck and sucks at a sensitive spot. You can feel his teeth showing from the smile in his kisses. His thumbs rubbed lazily over your jaw, enjoying the feel of your soft skin under his rough palms.
“Really,” you exhaled, relaxing against the headrest as Vernon’s wandering hands traveled lower. “Had no idea.”
“But I’m happy,” Vernon is fumbly and sweet, mumbling in the crook of your neck while his fingers toyed with the waistband of your sweatpants, “happy you’ve healed, and happy for us.”
He’s excited, almost too excited. The space between you two was warm, the lamp beating under your skin, awakening something between you two that was left behind that summer. It’s as if winter left him dormant, and you were the fresh flower waiting to be bloomed under his touch.
“Are you always,” you gasped, two fingers already worming their way inside your panties, “talkative at this part?”
“Not if you wanna talk,” and the ever-zealous Vernon Chwe gets to work, sticking out his tongue in surprise when he finds that you’re already drenched. “Shit, you’re so beautiful,” he holds onto that word dearly, and pressed his forehead against yours, “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to hold you like this,” he reached for your delicious bud, and you felt your senses flower into pleasure.
He makes a noise, low in his throat as he watched you melt against the seat. “I like you like this,” he said thickly, his voice matching the slick sounds emitting from yourself. “Comfy, relaxed. You always looked so stuffy in those work suits,” you feel wholly undeserving of this worship, as he licked a long strip from your collarbone to your neck, “would love to help you chill out a lil’ more.”
A whine bubbled from the back of your throat, your eyes rolling shamelessly as you feel the pads of his fingers working circles between your folds. “Ah, I’ve—I’ve fantasized about this,” you confessed, “every time you’d ink my back. At one point we just stopped covering myself with those stupidly thin gowns. All you had to do was turn around.” Vernon blinked rapidly, mental pictures ticked like film in his pupils. His hands stuttered across your slick, inserting two fingers between your folds as you continued. His pace was slow, yet purposeful as he made sure you felt him with every thrust. Rings adorned his fingers, and the cool sensation surprised you. You shivered in pleasure. “Mm, I’ve imagined us kinda like this in that little shack, hard against the cot overlooking the shop,”
“Dirty,” he said, as if recalling the weather.
“And ah—wondering what kind of tattoos you have,” and in your haze you reached for him, your hand gripping firm at his gunmetal belt buckle. You tucked your fingers between the button of his light wash jeans, palming the telltale signs of something hard, “please? You’ve done too much for me, lemme return the favor.”
“Not now,” he pressed his forehead to yours, “you can guess my ink on our way home.”
“Wha?“ You’re dazed, feeling warm with affection and drowned in the moment. You feel his fingers, slowly pumping out of its rhythm and resting on your thigh. You groaned at the premature end, his shiny digits resting on your fleece sweats.
“They’ll kill me, this is new leather,” Vernon said, “and now we can afford security cameras, which are so small even I can’t find them.”
“Unbelievable,” you laughed. You’re not frustrated, only endeared.
“Besides, I’d rather have our first time somewhere private. Undisturbed,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, "somewhere where there’s lots of granite."
You melted, pulling at his collar to pepper kisses on his nose. The mention of coming home to his pretty kitchen was icing on the cake. "You know how much I love your granite."
(After your granite fantasy was fulfilled, you spent the rest of the weekend huddled in Vernon’s room. You’re living off take out and mutually satisfied with the unhealthy means. When you’re not eating or watching movies, the two of you are drafting your first piece.
Freesias and pink roses.)
(His tattoo was also very cute.)
#vernon#vernon fic#seventeen fic#seventeen smut#vernon smut#vernon fluff#seventeen fluff#vernon fanfic#hansol vernon chwe#seventeen scenarios#kpop#kpop fic#kpop scenarios#kpop smut#blossomed
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* natalia dyer, nonbinary + she/they | you know philomena carmichael, right? they’re twenty, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, a day? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to the leanover by life without buildings like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole wind whipping around your hair, the gentleness of decomposition, a naked blur dancing around the flames of an everlasting fire thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is april 20th, so they’re a taurus, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( james, 22, est, they/them )
hi thank u all fr being so patient w me as i rapidly switch out muses n figure out wht the fuck im doing atm <3 also sry fr my rare presence work hs been kicking my ass like lets jst say i deserve 2 b smbdy’s housewife (misogny wins this time sry) so i nvr hv to work in my life <3 DFSLKSDHKGLFSHLKAGHLKAHLKSG this is a joke 2 clarify. anyways. this is philly she’s old bt she’s one of my very favorites ever. this intro is also old sry its nt in my usual. style. LKDFKHGLKGF
CANCER, TRAUMA, DEPERSONALIZATION / DEREALIZATION, DEATH, GRAPHIC MENTION OF DECAY, INSECTS MENTION TW.
mini playlist.
the girl who stole my tamagotchi ;; hot sugar / i dropped out ;; and the kids / pork soda ;; glass animals / wonderfully bizarre ;; bendigo fletcher / (dream) ;; salvia palth / alien blues ;; yundabar / dust in your pocket ;; glass animals / warm honey ;; willow / bela lugosi’s dead ;; bauhaus / gecgecgec ;; 100 gecs / blinding ;; florence and the machine / nantes ;; beirut / cherry-coloured funk ;; cocteau twins / not allowed ;; tv girl / oblivion ;; grimes / space song ;; beach house / dog food ;; 100 gecs / the leanover life ;; life without buildings.
statistics.
full name: philomena brontë carmichael
nickname(s): philly, phil, mena, etc.
birthday: april 20th, 2000.
zodiac: taurus sun, scorpio moon, aries ascending.
mbti & temperament: infp & improvisor / phlegmatic.
label: the halycon.
sexuality: demisexual.
pinterest.
biography.
a middle child belonging to christopher and imogen carmichael - two stanford professors. christopher specialized in british literature whilst imogen specialized in the classics. hence the name.
the order of siblings goes as such: lysander, elektra, juno, philomena, and twins orion & valora. the deal was that everybody had a greek (or in juno’s case, roman) first name and a middle name inspired by a piece of british literature circa 1800s and under. a family of nerds, if you will.
so, clearly - right off the bat, their parents are … eccentric. they’re both in love with their respected topic, and with each other, and with their kids. the carmichael family is a happy family.
they each have their own quirks and whatnot - though philly’s always been particularly dreamy - even as a child, she’d spend hours watching clouds or caterpillars or the leaves blow in the wind rather than play with other kids. she wasn’t a shy kid - she just had her own interests.
hardship doesn’t hit the family until philomena is five and starts having splitting headaches. they’re slow at first - but as soon as she’s seeing spots and unable to walk in a straight line, doctor appointments are made.
cancer tw // it doesn’t take long for them to discover the tumor, though the official diagnosis of malignant ependymoma comes a month later.
it’s grade ii but slow-moving, small enough to not be as much of a threat as worried, but big enough where removal is necessary. philomena earns a scar and brings it in for show-and-tell. for two months afterwards, philly’s at radiotherapy monday through friday.
they’re lucky - philomena’s considered cancer-free by the next year. she’s babied at first - handled delicately, as if she could break if touched - but with five other children … it doesn’t last for too long. end of cancer tw //
and life continues as normal.
her personality doesn’t shift much over the next few years - she’s awfully independent for a kid, and awfully quiet - when she speaks it’s about faeries and bigfoot, about how the sky is so blue and if you listen quietly, you can hear the leaves whisper their secrets to each other. this is not odd.
she’s close to all her siblings, but she idolizes her older sister - elektra. elektra’s six years older and dyes her hair whatever colors she wants. elektra bought a knife off a seedy guy downtown. elektra threw away all of her heels and renounced god. elektra is god. her music is loud but it’s not heavy - it’s florence and the machine.
they’re opposites - elektra’s boisterous and feels loudly, philomena’s softer and feels…less. when elektra sneaks out, philomena keeps watch. they are a duo.
philomena is smart - but she’s fifteen and hates school. hates sitting inside all day. hates the same routine - day after day - it’s all the same. her parents’ routine is the same, philly feels contained and she wants to live.
elektra’s twenty-one and just bought a brand new spanking (used but not falling apart) 19-something volkswagen … van - using her entire savings account. she says she’s tired of routine, she’s leaving the next day.
naturally, philomena stows away in the back and isn’t discovered until they’re two states away and she’s got to pee. elektra nearly crashes the van in shock.
it’s an argument - philomena vs. elektra, then them vs. their parents, then their parents vs. the school, the state - it’s an ordeal. philomena switches to an online program in the end.
it hurts christopher and imogen - lysander’s not having any of their nonsense, juno’s betrayed and alone - the twins are twins. in the end, it’s alright. the carmichael family is a happy family.
philomena and elektra take their time - it’s not a road trip, it’s their new life, permanently on the road. they stop and explore often - they do odd jobs in whatever town they settle in. they dine-n-dash, they shoplift. they survive in their own way.
during particularly desperate times, they two resorted to identity theft & credit fraud - getting away with it only by ditching the cards once they’ve made it out of state.
she drops out of high school officially when she’s seventeen - they have to drive all the way back to california to deal with the wrath of their parents and to deal with paperwork, but it’s done. philomena doesn’t know what path she wants in life - but it’s not that.
depersonalization / derealization tw // it’s during this time that the episodes occur - philomena’s outside her body, philomena’s wrapped in cotton, her memories are not her own. she’s looking in the mirror and she doesn’t recognize herself. they take shelter in a city for six months, long enough for her brand spankin’ new therapist to figure out what’s wrong with her. she’s diagnosed with depersonalization / derealization disorder - they think it’s stress. philomena doesn’t get stressed. they think it’s trauma. she laughs - she never laughs. depersonalization / derealization end of tw //
death, decay. maggots tw // there is trauma though, deep-rooted but somewhere inside - you just have to look for it.
you. just. have. to. look. for. it. look for it. look for it. look for it look for it look -
you were ten and she was thirteen, an off-trail hike in familiar woods in a familiar town, safe and familiar. it was your idea, to stray from the carved out paths, down creeks and up hills and round, and round again. you’re the one who spotted the scarf first, sticking up from the dirt and dancing in the wind like the beginning of reincarnation. it was not reincarnation, it was discovery. it was ruin. with curiosity drawn, you skidded down - with compliance, followed juno, followed your sister - clumsy in her steps and tumbling down quicker than you. you saw the corpse, but juno felt it. decaying flesh and maggot. end of death, decay, maggots tw //
and she left juno, just like that - just five years later, when juno had finally gone to the end of her wits. philly up and left. abandoned her.
philomena and elektra leave the city after that therapy session. they do not return. she’s always been good at hiding her secrets.
after ending up with warrants from their arrest in florida (after running from the law in texas), philly and elektra have wound up at irving <3 partially hiding from the law and partially bcos their trusty van’s broken down and they haven’t got the money to fix her up yet.
personality & facts.
she’s quiet but she’s confident - her voice sounds like rustling leaves, if leaves smoked a pack of cigarettes a day.
often underestimated - philly’s petite and looks like she’d fall over if a plastic bag blew too close to her. she’s independent - for the most part. elektra is the only person philly takes orders from.
has always been considered odd - weird, strange. still talks about the trees as if they’re listening, as if they’re old friends. she’s vague and doesn’t elaborate on the things she says.
believes in pretty much any superstition you throw her way. luck is very important to her. if you ask her if the earth is flat, she’ll say probably. believes strongly in bigfoot and the lochness monster. has personally seen aliens, and loves ghosts almost more than herself.
she can be amusing - whether you ‘get’ her or not, her outlook is often bright - she talks about the negatives the same way she talks about the positives. can be seen as naive or gullible, but she’s plenty smart. even if half of her education has come directly from google.
philly doesn’t laugh. a smile, yes - often, in fact - not always reaching her ears, or bearing teeth - but these are not indicators of her happiness. philly is consistently content. she thinks many things are funny - she still will not laugh.
her voice is often monotonous - she doesn’t sound dreary, she sounds far-away. her voice carries. her emotions are often unknown to others.
is apathetic in most situations. she’s hard to bother - she’s incredibly patient and enjoys the company of most - tolerates them at the very least. it’s hard for her to express her emotions, because she feels them so little that it’s very nearly not worth it. her affection is not verbal - it’s small touches and gestures of kindness, love in her own way.
is a fan of knock-knock jokes and bad puns. she won’t crack a smile while telling you them, nor does she expect you to laugh. she just enjoys them.
she owns a motorola razr covered in puffy stickers - hasn’t ever had a smartphone. she’s a fan of emoticons. her favorite is :o)
has a lot of bruises and scratches and scars - she’s often getting herself into pickles. there are always, at the very minimum, three bandaids on each hand.
she has insomnia, so she’s awake often. is often seen wandering town - even when she shouldn’t be, even when it might be dangerous. her intuition is delayed. when she does sleep - her dreams are vivid and fantastical.
keeps a box of memories - sentimental bits and pieces she’s picked up over the last few years. there are a lot of buttons and postcards, but any teeny tiny object will do.
her style changes every week - most, if not all, of her clothes are thrifted. one week she’s baby spice and the next she’s lydia deetz. she combines pieces from different styles often - she looks like a barbie clothed by a child. she feels most comfortable like this.
will either patch-up the clothes that get too worn or reuse them in some way. sometimes donates the clothes she gets tired off - isn’t minimalistic, but she’s learned to keep only a small amount of possessions.
the only consistency is her lucky ribbon - it’s pastel yellow and silky and as thin as a shoelace. she ties it onto her outfit of the day, everyday. if she loses it, she’s lost. elektra has a matching ribbon.
has no problem with minor theft - she only takes bare minimum, puts herself and elektra first and that’s how it’s always been.
currently living in florence, their van, with her sister elektra <3 currently residing in lilac ridge.
they used to live in motels on the occasion, the cheapest room, and more often than not they’d both go home with strangers for a comfier bed and a hotter shower.
it was a common occurrence - she didn’t sleep with them - but somehow, she weaseled her way into their homes anyway. has come out mostly unscathed, on most occasions. this has been a practice ever since they’ve been on the road.
really, truly - has not slept with anybody, had her first kiss at thirteen with a frog. this doesn’t bother her. (smirks at leo)
will consume anything you put in front of her - isn’t picky.
listens to whatever they’ve picked up along the way but she likes instrumentals the best. her second favorite genre is 1990′s and 2000′s top hits. they’re nostalgic for her. third favorites? florence, of course. fleetwood mac. the bird and the bee.
loves storms - will go out in the rain and will risk her life for it.
owns a pair of roller-skates and is often skating rather than walking. unless she’s on grass - then she’s walking barefoot.
has many hobbies, and gets bored of them often. her favorite hobby is welding. she’s not certified.
also, juggling.
also, accordion.
the kind of girl who’ll do any job you give her. odd jobs are her favorite jobs. babysitting is her least favorite - but she does it anyway. has lost children before. have they ever been found? not by philly.
dyes her hair blonde often and cuts her own hair - bangs included - finds it cathartic, likes the itchiness of bleach.
everything she does is often in pursuit of feeling free, alive, and meaningful.
( like her frequent visits to the woods, late at night when the moon is high and full. it’s freeing to dance around a fire, stark naked in the cold. builds immunity )
comes and goes wherever she pleases, nothing & nobody can stop her (besides elektra).
has a certain knack for getting animals to like her. has too many ‘pet’ rats that reside with her, alongside a baby raccoon & a few crow pals. has a new animal companion everyday, but she doesn’t contain them or force them to stay.
wanted plots.
speaking through my third eye ... ;; philly is new in town n shes very strange. constantly lives in a state in which she does not exist (at least on the same plane). this is her harassing the locals. this is her slipping thru their fingertips as they attempt 2 understand her. they get close smtms bt philly jst. whisks herself away.
hollows of our eyelids ... ;; perhaps there is smbdy jst as strange as philly. i’m out here calling fr all the weirdos. lets be friends. lets hv philly n co go on adventures n discover horrible sites n uncover ancient secrets tht lie deep below irving. mayb nt tht. bt im jst saying. this is fr the dreamers. da weirdos. the jugheads. LHKDSHFSADLKGFHLSKADG fr those who also feel as if they r not real.
bills n aches n blues... ;; ya this is my call fr all negative plots. bills (catching philly be a thief and a fraud), aches (mayb heartache? unrecruited feelings or w/e theyre called?), n blues (ooooh so sad... so sad ... angst ...) obviously i am a genius. i wldnt say tht philly is here 2 make enemies bc philly doesnt care much abt ppl bt perhaps tht cld b an issue. tht she doesnt care much abt others. mayb ur muse is jst like. cn u pls care. n philly is like. i am incapable. sry. sucks.
n also ,, ;; like. anything i’ll. take anything. philly is weird lets come up w surreal plots tht verge on the edge of like. nt being correct fr this verse. suddenly theres vampires? or so they think ... smirks. anyways. shes been 2 jail n been in the circus (shoutout 2 kirby) n dances naked in the woods n hoards animals n treasures. we hv a lot to work with here obv.
#irvingintro#death tw#decay tw#maggots tw#dissociation tw#depersonalization tw#derealization tw#cancer tw#trauma tw#zooweemama#anyways. kira's will b up soon
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The Glitter; A NoMin Smut. +2k Words. Warning: The following work contains mature content.
The boys had just finished filming the first episode of ‘Riding Battle’ and were sitting around a plastic table munching on some snacks to ease their hunger. Loud howling came from the boys as a sulky Jaemin stepped out of the toilet witch an itchy eye. Without saying any words, he plopped down onto a plastic chair and shoved some chips into his mouth as he scrolled through social media using his secret accounts. Jeno, a little scared of Jaemin’s frustrated state, turned to him and attempted to touch the lower lid of his swollen eye. Haechan and Jeno had taken their fun a little bit too far this time and Jaemin was certainly not happy about it. Jeno was busy analyzing the faint redness of his eye when Jaemin spoke up.
“You know you’re fucking lucky that I love you or else I would’ve snapped your neck in half the moment you touched that glitter bottle.”
And with that Jeno knew that things weren’t as bad as he thought they had been. He gave out a sigh of comfort that he didn’t know he had been holding in for a while and careful of the several pairs of watchful eyes around them, pressed a feather kiss on Jaemin’s half closed eye. Not long passed until it was time for the boys to pack up and go back to the dorms. The Hyundai van that SM had prepared for their transportation was big enough to house all of them and so they all settled in their seats comfortably. The manager informed the members of the rather long distance that they had to pave and told them to rest if they felt the need to. The boys laid back their seats and soon Chenle and Jisung fell asleep, leaving the rest in their tired and drowsy states. Once in a while the sound of Renjun’s rather loud whines and grunts followed by Heachan’s clingy attempts to cuddle him was heard, but aside from that all was sound and peaceful. Jaemin was sitting in the back row, where there were more than one seat available and had laid his forehead on the glass of the window, staring out at the orange and red of the sunset. Jeno caught sight of his silent boyfriend and couldn’t help but think that he had something to do with Jeamin’s unusual lack of energy. Usually Jeno (and all of them) had to beg a noisy Jaemin to stop teasing them so much and let them be for a while but today, that was not the case and Jeno couldn’t bear this situation at all. Looking around, Jeno found almost everyone asleep or busy doing something on their phones. He then slowly got up and walked over to where a not-yet-asleep Jaemin was sitting. His heartbeat was oddly high for someone who had barely done anything and when he finally sat down next to Jaemin and brushed his bangs out of his forehead slowly, he was sure that any ignorance from his boyfriend’s part would break his heart deeply. Jeno was fortunate for Jaemin raised his head instantly and hummed faintly before burying his face inside his neck. Jeno wasted no time and expressed his affection by placing multiple kisses on the top of his head, making sure to embrace him as close as possible. Jaemin sighed a sigh that Jeno usually would hear in more private circumstances, in bed to be exact. His breathing hitched as he felt the wetness of Jaemin’s soft and warm tongue on his exposed collarbones. Jaemin was teasing, which was not new, and it felt great, but Jeno had other things to worry about for now.
“Baby? Have you been ok? Do you feel sick? It’s that bastard Renjun’s punch in your chest, isn’t it? Come on let me take a look –“
Jaemin interrupted him halfway:
“Jeno-ya I’m fine, I’m just tired and a bit … maybe a bit frustrated.”
Jeno’s brows furrowed in confusion and deep thought.
“Frustrated? Frustrated how? Is this about that dumb online game that Chenle and Jisung keep pushing you to play so they can gain more lives? I swear to God I’m about to end –“
Jeamin was very well familiar with this habit of Jeno. He tended to be super protective and sensitive when it came to his comfort and he wouldn’t shut up unless a lid was put over his pretty mouth. Jaemin masterfully managed the situation by grabbing the collars of his leather jacket and covering his lips with his own pair. It took Jeno less than a second to fall prey to Jaemin’s sudden attention and soon he was kissing Jaemin back. What surprised him was the force with which Jaemin kissed, he was pushing himself forward as if attempting to straddle his waist there and then in a van full of people. Jeno broke the kiss momentarily and shook his head a little just to get some sense back in that head. Jaemin chuckled at his boyfriend’s fucked out state and punching his chest lightly added:
“I’m frustrated since you know … it’s been a while.”
Jeno was in no state to realize what Jeamin was trying to say and so he just shook his head cutely as a way of asking for more clarification. Jaemin sighed and looked at him straight in the eyes this time.
“It’s been a while since you’ve last dicked me down hard and nice. Here, happy now?”
‘Wow that was a piece of information I could not possibly handle right now’ thought Jeno. He gulped and ran both of his hands through his perfectly styled hair, sighing in the process.
“Is that why you’ve been extra salty for these past few days?”
Jeamin only nodded, with his bottom lip sucked in between his teeth, giving Jeno full on puppy eyes.
Jeno reached out and rather harshly took his bottom lip out.
“Don’t fucking tease me like that unless you’re willing to limp for a week.”
Jaemin rolled his eyes in response, which only infuriated Jeno more. The ride came to an end and the boys were finally in the comfort of their baggy clothes and cozy dorm atmosphere. Chenle and Jisung took turns on their shower stall as the rest of the boys were busy wiping the makeup off their faces. A loud Heachan startled Jeno as he ran into his room to show him something.
“Look what I’ve got! With this amount I’m sure we can tease Jaemin for a whole month!”
He said, waving the bottle of glitter that they had used earlier to paint Jaemin’s under eye. Jeno was about to snatch the bottle and punch Haechan in inappropriate places when a comfortably clothed Jaemin passed by the door. It took him a few seconds to come back into the door frame. He chuckled lowly and took the bottle out of Heachan’s hand.
“Haha. Veeeery funny you guys. Now fuck off before I smack you both.”
Jeamin waited for no other response and headed back to his shared room with Jisung. After a quick shower and a bowl of ramen it was time for him to do something until he’d eventually fall asleep. Wasting time on social media was the first option. He checked the profiles of all of the other members and soon grew bored. Jisung had long fallen asleep and that meant no bickering and teasing him. Letting out a sigh, he stood up and walked out to the kitchen to grab himself a glass of water. There in the living room sat an energetic Haechan playing games on the TV, surrounded by the asleep figures of Chenle and Renjun. That left Jeno alone in his room. Jaemin walked towards his lighted room and found him shirtless in front of the full length mirror, drying up his hair with a blow dryer. He stood there for a while, just taking in the graceful flexing and unflexing of his boyfriend’s back muscles as he did the most simple things, like drying his hair and putting on body lotion. Finally he plucked up the courage and walked over to an oblivious Jeno, put his hands on his wide shoulders and pressed a chaste kiss to where his shoulder blades met below the back of his neck. Jaemin waited for no other response and walked back to his bedroom.
He sat down on his bed and covered his face with both of his hands. He had been extra touchy for the last few days, the comeback schedules for ‘Ridin’ had totally drained all of his energy and that meant he had little to zero opportunities to spent some quality time with his boyfriend who was as equally busy. He eventually realized that tonight was the night. After all Jeno had the room all by himself tonight and they could take advantage of that, unless they wanted to wait for a while and then book a hotel room for a few hours just to fuck each other mercilessly. He couldn’t take it anymore and judging by the reactions that he received from Jeno back in the van, Jaemin was sure that he was on the same page. He walked out the door and made sure to take the glitter bottle with him. What Jeno likes, Jeno gets.
When he opened the door to Jeno’s bedroom the lights were already off, only the faint moonlight shone through the window and lighted up Jeno’s bare torso. Jaemin was not in the mood for extra teasing and so he locked the door and began taking his clothes off one after the other. Jeno’s steady breathing was a sign that he had been asleep for some time, and Jaemin had zero plans to be careful tonight. He boldly opened the glitter bottle and rubbed some on his collarbones and chest, making sure not to put any on the nipples since Jeno would certainly not like the idea of glitter on his tongue. Jaemin added the last touches by putting some around and under his eyes, since that was what sparked Jeno’s attention in the first place. He carefully lidded the bottle back and put it on Jeno’s bedside table. It was time for action now. Jeno was a lousy sleeper and so he never had his covers on, that was a bonus for Jaemin as he easily began straddling Jeno’s naked waist.
He took a hold of his rock hard cock and led the tip of it inside the little hole of Jeno’s bellybutton, wetting the small area with his pre-cum. Running his hands up and down Jeno’s chest, he laid his palms on his shoulders and continued humping his skin shamelessly. Jeno’s eyes fluttered open to probably the most sinful image that he could’ve ever seen. There Jeamin was, face blushed and lips parted, moaning his name under his breath like a prayer, his chest and closed eyes glistened with the most beautiful glow as moonlight illuminated his delicate body. His mind was still attempting to register to the sight in front of him, but his body reacted faster. He grabbed Jeamin’s petite hips and helped him hump his belly faster. In less than three minutes Jaemin came hard in hot spurts of thick cum on Jeno’s chest and chin.
“Jeno-ya …”
That was all he had to say before Jeno ran a finger in his hot cum and led it onto his lips, an action to which Jaemin gladly opened his mouth. He licked and sucked his finger masterfully and pushed himself forward to catch Jeno’s lips in the most animalistic French kiss. Jaemin was too far gone to care for foreplay and while kissing proceeded to take Jeno’s half hardened cock and sat on it carefully. Jeno’s breathing faltered.
“Baby … baby … ugh .. I need to .. I need to stretch you first … ah fuck ..”
The feeling was nothing like any other sex that they had experienced. Jaemin could feel Jeno’s cock rising to its full length inside his hole and Jeno felt like he was unlocking new spots inside of him. Jaemin’s confidence in riding his boyfriend died down a bit as he grew tired of the uncomfortable situation.
“Turn me … turn me around .. my leg ..”
Jeno got the sign immediately and still inside him, turned them around so that Jaemin was now caged within his embrace. This was Jeno’s position. Whenever they were in bed like this, Jeno would turn into a merciless animal and fuck Jaemin senseless. And it was about to begin.
“You thought that it was fucking ok to tease me like that in front of the others back in the van huh? Was it fucking funny?”
Jeno’s harsh words were followed by a brutal slap to Jaemin’s left ass cheek.
“Hmmm …”
Jaemin wasn’t one to give up easily and Jeno was very well aware of that.
“Begging to get fucked like the dirty little cock slut that you are … how shameless.”
The second slap was accompanied with a sudden thrust forward and that almost sent Jaemin over the edge.
“You’re so good … you fuck me so good … ugh ..”
Jeno bent his legs and lifted knees up to his chest as he kept his brutal thrusting rhythm. Jaemin’s neglected cock shook from side to side as Jeno pushed him deeper into the mattress with every thrust.
“tou .. touch yourself for me … stroke your cock ..”
Jaemin fisted his red and swollen cock and started fucking his fist in an ungodly speed. The sweat mixed with the glitter on his pale body accompanied by the lewd sounds and sinful words that exited his mouth sent Jeno over the edge. He quickly pulled out of Jaemin’s abused hole and led the tip of his red cock to Jeamin’s mouth, he immediately stuck his tongue out and that was where Jeno lost it completely. He came in heavy spurts on Jaemin’s tongue and chin as Jaemin himself came in his hand and painted his Jeno’s torso a dirty shade of white. Before he could swallow Jeno’s load, Jeamin pushed himself forward and captured Jeno’s lips in yet another animalistic lip lock. Jeno’s cum along with a mixture of their saliva dripped off their chins and onto where Jaemin’s freshly released cum laid on his belly. Breaking the kiss, Jeno dipped two fingers in the unbelievably dirty mixture and stuck them in his mouth as far as they would go, gagging in the process. Jeamin hissed through his teeth.
“Fuck baby that’s so hot … Jesus ..”
Jeno then pulled out slowly, trying not to hurt Jaemin’s sensitive body, which proved to have been unsuccessful.
“Ugh … fuck that hurts ..”
Jaemin smacked Jeno’s chest playfully and in response received his wholesome boyish smile.
The pair laid alongside each other and stared at the ceiling for a while, until Jeamin spoke up.
“So that glitter huh? Wonder if you have other interests that include whips and chains.”
Jeno chuckled and bit his shoulder playfully.
“I guess we’ll see. Till then let’s just clean up before they come for us. This place smells like ass.”
Jaemin rolled his eyes and rolled onto him, making sure that their softening cocks touch in the process.
“Hmmm … well I guess cleaning can wait.”
It was going to be one hell of a night.
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Now what I'm about to tell you sounds outrageous, and might be disturbing, but it's something that happened to me, and even though it was brief, I can't feel at peace until I tell you what's going on.
I'm a big fan of the online animated show, Epithet Erased. As such, I'm a huge peddler of fan content, indulging in other people's edits, fanart, and OCs, and creating my own. I dont share any of it, not with anyone online that I don't know. I am a good editor though, and I get asked to help edit compilations a lot by my friend, who's name I wont tell you for privacy reasons. They've asked me to edit silly little compilations out of raw material they send me, usually just of funny thing their favorite characters say.
This is the reason why I wasn't that perturbed to receive a video file over email from an unknown person. Their email was "[email protected]", and even though it's just a bunch of random letters, I didnt think anything of it. I myself have some weirdly named emails because I like getting free trials of stuff over and over, and I only remembered the name because I copied it to include in a message to said friend, asking if they'd sent someone who needed editing my way. I didnt get a response, but I decided to open the file anyway, just to watch it and see what was up.
It looked like content I'd already seen before, and since the thumbnail was of Sylvie in the museum, I immediately recognized it as the beginning of the 3rd episode. I watched through it, and nothing really stood out. For a moment, I had thought someone really just sent me the third episode as a .MOV file. The battle between Sylvie and Giovanni and Molly began, and everything went on like normal. Right up to the part where Giovanni was batting Molly on the head with a ball of yarn, it was all how it should have been, and I laughed at the joke the same as I always did. Then, Giovanni tossed the yarn, hit it with the bat... and things started to diverge from there.
First off, the ball didnt just bounce off of Sylvie like it did in the original. He flew right off screen, and that's when I had become confused. It had already been edited, it seemed to me, so I became confused as to why it was sent to me.
Giovanni said something like "wow, that worked? I didnt think it would", and I realized I hadn't actually heard that line before, or if I had, the inflection was different. I'm autistic and this is a special interest of mine, so I've watched the whole series over again nearly a million times. I could probably recite the first episode word by word if you asked me. As the dialogue continued, it became more apparent that these were professionally recorded lines from the original voice actors.
I got really excited, thinking or hoping for a moment that it was like, a leak of some first-draft content. I didnt even think about how weird it was that it was just something I'd gotten in an email. I paused the file and tried to exit my editing program to tell my friend, but my computer wouldnt let me exit the program. It's old, so this isnt unusual. I pulled discord up on my phone to tell my friend, and that's when I'd noticed they replied to my message earlier. They told me that they hadn't told anyone my email, and to not open the file, because it was probably a virus.
I told them that I had ended up opening the file, and that it was of epithet erased, but it was different. For a while, they thought I was pulling a prank on them, but I told them it was really well done, and the voice acting was too spot on to be fan made. They *demanded* I send the clip to them when I finished watching it, and I promised them I would.
I continued playing the video, and molly and Giovanni walked over to where Sylvie had fallen over. Molly suddenly became very upset, shouting and crying. Giovanni had to drag her away. The acting was spot on, and I was seriously disturbed. I couldnt imagine what it was that made Molly react like that. Giovanni pulled her out of the room, shushing and cooing at her as she struggled and kept crying. As they left, the camera didnt move, and the music had faded. It stayed at the exact angle for another few minutes. I don't actually know how long, but I couldnt skip forward, even though I tried. Actually, I couldnt view a preview of the video when I hovered my mouse over the bar at the bottom like I usually can. I could move the mouse over the line and see it was still playing, though. I tried to pause it, but for some reason it couldnt pause anymore. I decided since nothing was happening, I could just pull out my phone and text my friend about it.
I told them about all that I had seen so far, and they told me it might have been an original storyline that was just way too dark. Then I asked them why it was sent to me. They said they didnt know. I set my phone down, and looked back up at the computer, then froze.
Because I was staring at my phone, I missed it, but there was a clip of Sylvie on the ground. It was a sprite that was unlike his usual slouch/laying down sprite. This was about the time I knew something really fucked up was going on.
The ball of yarn had lodged itself into sylvie's eye. I could see the glass had broken, and the yarn ball was seriously deep in his face. Glass stuck out of his eye socket and his cheek, and blood dripped down his face, pooling down the sides. His head was also tipped back a little, and with the blood seeping into his hair and up his head, the back of his head must've split open, too. There was a dragging mark down the wall, and the origin point was a huge red splatter where he probably got thrown into the wall.
The sprite wasn't static like they normally are. Sylvie shivered and his chest would rise and fall with his shaky breath. I was honestly grossed out by how far this had gone, but it was like I couldnt stop watching. I knew it wouldnt pause anyway. I was too scared to message my friend, because I thought it might change again.
It might have gone on for another minute, just Sylvie breathing and bleeding, until he just stopped. There was no sudden flail, no cough or sputter, he just stopped breathing, and there was no more shuddering. After he stopped, it only took a few seconds for things to start happening. The flames started up again, like they did when he used nightmare fuel on molly, and the fire alarm went off. It cut right to Mera panicking about the fire alarm, and hitting indus with a crowbar.
I was so jarred by how this became normal again, I actually didnt believe it had happened for a second. I didnt believe they would just... kill a character like that. I didnt know what was going on.
Things didnt stay the same though. Before Mera could even find the amulet, Molly and Giovanni ran into the room. Molly looked shocked to the core, and Giovanni was really panicky. Mera made Indus apprehend them both. Indus went on his whole spiel about barriers, but Giovanni and Molly never finished the punchline. He did eventually trap them, and Mera found the amulet. She admired it, and put it on. As she walked towards Molly, Giovanni tried to escape his containment to stop her, but Molly actually looked more panicked when he called out to her. Mera extended her hand, and lifted Molly up.
The sound cut out for the next few moments, but you could tell a really awful noise alerted all 4 of them, and it must have been loud, because the screen shook. The camera panned over to the entrance, which had been blocked by rubble. The roof caved in, trapping everyone inside of he storage area. The sound returned, and there was audio of molly crying, but her sprite wasn't matched up to that audio. It moved as if she was speaking, and characters would reply, but her crying would be playing over it.
The room filled with white fire, and the fluid animation that usually appears at the end of arcs began. Mera, Indus, Giovanni, and Molly were all silhouetted by the fire, but the focus was on a figure that walked through the flames. It was obviously Sylvie. As he was illuminated though, you could see he was different. It was as if he had been grayscale. His skin was white, the clouds and decoration on his coat and pants that would have been teal were all dark gray, and everything else was varying shades of gray. His hoodie and his glasses, however, were red. One eye was red with a black sclera, and drooped. The other was pure black, and the glass of the glasses were cracked. Blood dripped from that eye, and from his mouth. The back of his hair was adorned with a ring of red.
You remember how I said there was audio of Molly crying overlapping everything else? When sylvie appeared, it stopped for just a second, and then grew more panicked. It was loud enough to drown everything out, and I couldnt hear what anyone else was saying. Molly just sobbed and screamed. There wasn't even any music, just that. Sylvie didnt say anything. He just stood as the flames grew closer to the four.
Indus shouted something, then ran at Sylvie. Before he could reach him, there was a spark of red dust, and he stopped. The back of his head exploded, and he fell forward. Another track of molly crying began playing over the current one. Mera looked around for a quick escape, but I guess she just got too panicked, and she ran right into the flame. She fell down in it, and i could see her silhouette burning and clawing at her skin, which was flaking off in the fire. Yet another track of molly screaming and crying played over the two, and it was beginning to get discordant.
Giovanni brandished his soul slugger doom back, taking a step back. His eyes filled with tears, watching as Sylvie approached. His grip on the bat tightened and it shook as an extension of himself. Giovanni let go of the bat and fell to the floor on his knees.
All the tracks of Molly crying cut off as Sylvie reached down, and picked up the bat. Giovanni bowed his head, and Sylvie threw the bat to Molly. Her eyes full of tears and her gaze averted, she picked up the bat and swung it down hard over Giovanni's head. There were a few frames where the bat collided with the back of his head, but then the screen went black. The audio continued to play. I didnt catch a lot of what was happening, because I began to feel this awful pain in my neck that caught my attention.
At first, it wasnt very specific. It was just an ache at the very top of my spine, like I'd been sitting funny. I heard molly crying again, and crackling fire. Then the pain got worse, and there were police sirens. The last thing I really heard clearly was percival reporting something to her radio, about being at the scene and finding the body of "an adolescent boy" in the museum, which I assumed to be Sylvie. The pain became unbearable - it was like someone was driving a nail into the base of by neck. I closed my eyes. I couldnt see the video anymore, anyway. As I focused on the feeling, I realized it was becoming more specific. My breathing cut short, and at first I thought I was having a panic attack, but it became more apparent that there was a pressure on my neck, like a hand squeezing my throat harder and harder, nails digging into my skin.
I lurched forward and turned my computer off. Once it was off, the feeling vanished, leaving a small ache in my throat. I coughed and wheezed, and the actual panic attack began to set in. I turned my swivel chair, expecting to see someone behind me, since it felt distinctly like I had been choked, but nobody was there. I grabbed my phone and fell onto the couch, hiding under a blanket as I fell deeper into a panic attack.
Once I was calm (or once it was over, anyway), I messages my friend and told them about what happened. They didnt actually believe any of it, and they thought I had been pranking them. I swore up and down that it was real, and I still do, but they demanded proof. So I had to turn my computer back on.
I got the courage to turn it on again about half an hour later. The file was no longer open, because the program closed when I turned my computer off. I tried to open it again, but I got an error box titled "Oops! An error has occured", and the box read "you weren't supposed to see this." When I checked the email again to download it and send it to my friend, I'd gotten a response from Lptnmjngaeprkfl that just read "sorry. That wasnt for you. Don't watch it again okay? I'm so sorry." No matter how many times I tried to message Lptnmjngaeprkfl I never got a response, and every time i downloaded the .mov file, it wouldnt open. If i tried to send it to my friend, it would crash my phone or computer, and the message would never send.
To this day, I'm still not really sure what I saw. I kind of wondered if it was possible for some other people to contact the creator and see if they would respond. I got my friend to message them, but they didnt respond at all. I'm hoping they respond to someone. Please, message [email protected] and tell me what you find out.
#epithet erased#long post#lptnmjngaeprkfl#tw blood#tw gore#tw death#tw fire#tw murder#tw panic attack#tw choking#creepy#sylvie ashling#[email protected]
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blankets, coffees and afternoon naps
summary: Blankets, coffee and afternoon naps have become the new normal.
word count: 1217
rating: general audiences
warnings: profanity
note: just a collection of domestic moments between dan and phil during quarantine written for @stupidity-to-the-max for phandomgives. enjoy ♡
read on ao3
Blankets, coffee and afternoon naps have become the new normal.
Dan sighed fondly as he looked down at Phil sprawled across the couch. He had a bet with Dan that he would stay awake, but he was already fast asleep and fully relaxed, head resting on Dan’s lap, a thousand pillows burying him into the couch. He smiled faintly as he noticed Phil was wearing the mismatching socks he had given him for his 29th birthday.
As if awoken by Dan’s thoughts, Phil blinked, slowly opening his eyes.
“Hey.” Dan whispered softly.
“Hey.” Phil murmured, rubbing his eyes as he sat up from Dan’s lap, almost knocking over his half-full coffee mug. “How long was I out?”
“Only half an hour.” Dan said, suddenly shivering as Phil quickly left his legs, grasping his lukewarm coffee cup to conjure some warmth. “Now you have to take the garbage out.”
Phil groaned. “But Mellie is taking it out today, and I already had to deal with her two weeks ago.”
“You shouldn’t have bet on it.” Dan said, smirking arrogantly.
Phil buried his face in Dan’s lap again.
“Bitch.” he called out, muffled.
“Yeah, yeah. Now go back to sleep.”
-
“How do you deal with blocks?”
Phil frowned in confusion and looked up from his laptop, observing the source of the noise across him who was slamming his head on the table. “Blocks?”
“Yes!” Dan called out, exasperated. “Blocks.”
“Like chocolate blocks?” Phil joked, enjoying the annoyance continuing to write all over Dan’s face.
Dan sighed. “I meant like writer’s block.”
“Oh.” Phil said, shrugging and returning to type. “I don’t know. Write about...your mum.”
Dan squinted at him. “You write. How do you cure writer’s block?”
“Well, it’s gonna sound cheesy.”
“Tell me.” Dan said immediately.
Phil stopped typing and looked up, smiling softly. “I write about you.”
Dan rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up.”
“It’s true!” Phil exclaimed. “You always give me inspiration to write. there’s so much to write about you.”
“Like what?”
“Well, how you’re kind and soft, even if you pretend not to be, and that you give the best advice, and the best kisses, and you make the best Indian food on this apartment floor, and- you’re just fishing for compliments now.”
“Yup.” Dan said, grinning widely. “I know just what to write about now.”
-
“I think Norman hates me.”
Dan sighed. “You said that five minutes ago, Phil. He is literally a fish. He does not hate you.”
“Yeah, but...seriously. What if he does?” Phil asked.
Dan shook his head. “It’s 3am, Phil. You’re going delusional.”
“I know, but still.” Phil said. “What if I’m feeding him and caring about him and having anxiety dreams about him and he doesn’t care about me at all?”
“Go to sleep.” Dan said.
“But you’re awake!” Phil exclaimed.
“I’m turning the lamp off now.” Dan said, and he did. He closed his eyes, pretending to sleep.
“Good night.” Phil whispered softly.
Dan smiled slightly. “Good night. Norman loves you.”
---
“See? I told you! I fucking told you!”
Phil slammed his head on the cards. “This game is too complicated.”
“No, look at me! Look at me!” Dan shouted, grabbing Phil’s event card and waving it around. “I told you that this was too easy! You can’t just fucking airlift people and send them to different countries! It’s not how the game works! It’s not how any game works!”
“Who cares?” Phil yelled. “I saved the world anyway!”
“Illegally, you dingbat!” Dan said. “We’re playing it again.”
“This is the fifth time.” Phil said.
“I don’t care how many times we’re playing this, we need to get it right.” Dan seethed, already setting up the board again.
-
“Well, this isn’t perfect, but…”
“I love it.” Dan said, eyes shining.
“Yeah?” Phil said hopefully.
“Yeah.” Dan affirmed, smiling brightly and looking around the dark room filled with candles. He smelt the air.
“You even put my favourite scented candles. I thought we were out of them.”
“I ordered some online.” Phil said.
Dan put his hand over his heart. “Oh my god, I love you.”
“I love you too.” Phil beamed. “You look good tonight.”
“You too.” Dan said, taking a seat. “So, Mr Lester, what do we have tonight?”
“I have made three courses for you - appetizers, main and dessert. And bread, if that counts as a course.” Phil said. He hesitated before continuing, glancing at Dan’s lightly lit face.
“Go on.” Dan whispered, urging him to go on.
“Okay, so for the entree I made a beef carpaccio with avocado and walnuts, seasoned with salt and pepper. For main we have polish pork and cabbage stew with fresh marjoram with a side of fava bean salad with goat's cheese. Lastly, for dessert I made rhubarb tart with pistachio ice cream, and an attempt of Japanese mochi. All of this is with the non-burnt homemade sourdough bread I made last week, and butter from Sainsbury.” Phil said. “I hope you like it.”
“God, Phil. You did so much.” Dan said. “You didn’t have to do that much.”
“Yeah, but I wanted to. You’re worth it.” Phil said.
“I don’t know what to say.” Dan breathed.
“You don’t have to say anything.” Phil said, smiling softly. “It was nothing.”
Dan looked at Phil directly. “I love you, you know that, right?”
“Yeah.” Phil grinned. “I love you too. I’ll bring out the food now.”
“Chef, waiter and boyfriend. How much do I have to tip you tonight?” Dan teased.
“You’re my tip for tonight.” Phil said, kissing Dan’s forehead.
“We’re gross, aren’t we?” Dan called out as Phil got their appetizers and bread.
“Definitely.” Phil shouted back. “It’s great.”
-
“In summary, if you try to rap one more time, I will literally cry.” Phil finished.
“What are you talking about?” Dan said, still speaking into the faux microphone. “I sounded great.”
“I rate that performance a -8/10.” Phil said.
Dan pouted. “You’re so mean.”
“You barely said one quarter of the words in that song.”
“A for effort?”
“F for failure.”
“Fine, I rate your Britney a 0.”
“You already rated an 11! You’re not allowed to change it!”
“Since when? Hit Me Baby One More Time? More like “Hit Me Baby Zero More Times Because Phil Is So Bad At Singing It”.” Dan said, changing the song already.
Phil rolled his eyes. “You think you’re so funny.”
“Oh, you love me, shut up.” Dan said, getting read to rap into the microphone.
-
“You left your coffee in the microwave.” Phil yelled.
“Just heat it up again and give it back to me.” Dan yelled back, eyes refusing to leave the computer and fingers fervently glued to the keyboard.
“Here you go.” Phil said, smiling as he put the lukewarm cup on the counter next to Dan. “How’s your writing going?”
“Good.” Dan said, continuing to type.
“Fixed your block?” Phil asked, sitting on the couch next to him.
“Yep.” Dan said, shutting his laptop. “Thanks for the advice.”
“What advice?” Phil asked.
“You.” Dan replied, adjusting the blanket hanging over his legs to share with the very confused Phil. “Let’s see if you manage to stay awake through this episode.”
Blankets, coffee and afternoon naps, they decided, were the best kind of normal.
#phan#dan and phil#dan howell#daniel howell#danisnotonfire#amazingphil#phil lester#philip lester#phandom#phannie#phanfiction#phanfics#emilee.writings.exe#phan oneshot#fanfiction#fanfics#phan fanfiction#dan and phil fanfiction#em's oneshots#em's fluff#tw swearing#tw profanity
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Alright so, recap from the screening!
First, David, Carol and Niels spoke a bit and thanked the whole crew and us for being here and being so supportive, reminding us to keep being that supportive during s4 so we get more seasons. Then the cast got there from the back of the room and everyone got distracted so they called them down, they waved, Maxence with his cute plushy raccoon, and sat down front row.
We watched episodes 8 and 9 back to back. I was sitting right behind Axel and Maxence and let me tell you, Axel’s hair is so floppily all over the place that it would fall back over the edge of his seat when he’d rest his head on the seat bahah.
Maxence seemed nervous about the scene in which Eliott has a manic episode, he sat up instead of trying to melt into his seat like he’d been doing previously. He leaned on Axel and Coline on his other side a bit, or they were talking, I don’t know. The whole cast looked to Assa and cheered/did a thumb up during Imane’s speech about the mural, we stan.
At the end of episode 9, everyone was a mess. The only time I had seen that many people cry in a theater was at the premiere of Love, Simon. We all got up to clap and when they turned the light on, everyone was crying. David went straight to Axel and Maxence, who were also crying, and made them stand up before cuddling them. The video I posted earlier was taken seconds after the lights went up again and you can see tears on their cheeks. They and the rest of the cast kept wiping tears for a good part of the Q&A.
After that there was the pannel and I think you’ve all seen the videos already so not talking about that here but hit me up if you have questions.
Then we had to go outside and that’s when the cast started talking and taking pictures with everyone. And I mean EVERYONE. It lasted about three hours, just talking and hugging and taking pics.
I was lucky enough to get to speak with David a bit about that last scene of episode 9 and guys... They only did two takes. David said that Axel gave it his all, he went above and beyond and ran so fast he was afraid he would hurt himself (”j’ai cru qu’il s’était pété les tendons”). That first “you’re not alone” he says to Eliott, where he sounds so winded, barely getting the words out? Axel was actually close to passing out. He was out of it, couldn’t catch his breath, he was shaking. They didn’t take a break between him running and then finding Eliott. He seems to be such a wrecked because he was, emotionally and physically.
When David heard Remember, he saw the scene happening right in front of his eyes, the shots of Lucas running, the flashback full of sunlights, the crescendo, everything. They shot the car almost hitting Lucas for real, David said Axel barely batted an eye and just went for it, blindly, trusting.
We also talked about how Skam France came to be and how many people described it as “a teenage show”, which made him roll his eyes because it often sounds negative in the mouth of some people. He explained that Skam was so important because it was a show that wasn’t for teenagers but made by teenagers. He talked with teenagers for months before going into the casting and writing the scripts. The first thing he always asks when the actors get on set is “how are you feeling? Have you eaten? Have you slept well? How’s your mood?” because he doesn’t want the actors to be fake. When a teenager is happy, feeling down, excited, moody, then he’s all of that and nothing will change it, and he wanted that to be felt on screen. It’s a show that gives a voice to teenagers but it doesn’t mean it’s supposed to be watched only by teenagers, quite the contrary.
The majority of the cast stayed until at least 9:30pm which is when I left to get something to eat. I’m amazed at how patient and enthusiastic Maxence and Axel in particular are, there were hundreds of people and they still took the time to talk and listen with everyone. Maxence doesn’t walk, he skips and jumps towards people, it’s adorable, and he literally makes you disappear into his hugs, he wraps his whole boddy around you. Axel is loud loud loud and kisses everyone ahah. Lula and Coline are the most adorable, bubbly persons you’ll ever meet. Paul is a sweetheart, considerate, taking his time, and so funny. I didn’t talk much to Anne Sophie, Leo and Edouard because I had seen them at the concert before. I missed Assa and Philipine though :(
When I walked past the cinema after having a meltdown at Five Guys because of Supernatural an hour later, I bumped into David again, his arms full of gifts from fans. We thanked him again, I told him I was impressed and so grateful for the time he gives us. He said that he felt like he had to listen to us, IRL or online, because that’s why he does what he does and that’s how Skam came to be, by listening to us. I told him that even though I’m 26, I can still relate to the show and that I would have needed it so bad 10 years ago. To which he replied that he’s eternally grateful for this kind of comments, and that our generation, the gen z/millenials, are the ones who are the most vocal about fighting for our right to love and that it was fucking beautiful but also shouldn’t be necessary. He hopes his kids won’t have to, and that all he wanted after tonight was hugging them. So I told him good night, go home, and hug them extra hard.
#skam france#skam france cast#gaelle parle#i'm emotionally drained#but so worth it#congrats to anyone who read this very long recap
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FINALLY finished one of my @bellarkebingo fics!
@kindclaws suggested established relationship and prank wars. I did it in modern setting so I checked alternate universe (any kind) off as well. Ignore the other colors, I didn’t save this photo in parts so it’s marked with my wips.
fool you once, shame on me
[ On AO3! ]
The whole thing had honestly started as an accident.
One of Clarke's coworkers made an offhand comment about the cleanliness of her workstation which, in true Clarke fashion, meant she had to prove anyone and everyone wrong, sending her into a cleaning frenzy. Unfortunately, that energy didn’t just keep to her place of work.
Their place was never dirty, by any means; Bellamy was used to cleaning up after his sister, so tidying up after himself and someone else was just habit at this point. But after the thing at work, Clarke made a declaration about pulling her weight around the house and thus "Clarke's Spring Cleaning Project" was born… nevermind they were a couple of months well past Spring. Unpacking boxes that they haven't touched since they moved from their apartment into their house 5 years ago, only to then turn around and use those same boxes for sorting the donations from the trash which was certainly economical. She even had plans for the attic, which honestly even Bellamy is too scared to go in there; it's why most of their holiday decorations are in storage containers in the garage instead.
The crowning jewel of Clarke’s project came this past weekend in which she spent cleaning, rearranging, and even painting their kitchen.
"This color is much more cheerful," she had told him, along with, "And doesn't the silverware make much more sense in this drawer?"
Bellamy didn't mind. And honestly? It did make more sense for the silverware to be in that drawer.
It's early the next Monday morning when he stumbles into the kitchen and gets the coffee pot going, completely unable to start his workday without having a cup. He's still groggy so it takes him two tries before he remembers that Clarke moved the mugs too.
He's waiting patiently, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and when the coffee is finally ready he pours himself a generous cup and doctors it up with cream and sugar. He's taking that first blissful sip and as soon as the liquid touches his tongue… he spits it out all over the counter.
"What the hell?" He manages between coughs.
Bellamy takes an experimental, tentative sip like somehow this one will be different from the first. At least this time he manages to spit the god awful stuff back into his cup. He grimaces and glares at the liquid like it's personally betrayed him.
He glances around before his eyes land on the ceramic sugar container on the counter. Slowly, Bellamy pulls it towards him and sticks his pinky inside, bringing the white granules to his tongue. The taste of salt makes his face screw up.
Bellamy eyes the salt container next and brings it over to repeat the process. Sugar.
It’s still too early for him to properly process this so he just makes another, proper, cup of coffee and goes about his morning getting ready. He kisses Clarke on the forehead goodbye before she’s even gotten out of bed and writes her a note and leaves it on the counter in front of the coffee machine.
Bellamy gets a text from her later when he’s unlocking the door to his office at the University saying, “Sorry! Thanks for the heads up!” and honestly that should have been that…
*
To be fair, he didn't plan on seeking revenge. All of the pieces just sort of fell into his lap. Or rather, fell into his desk drawer after he confiscated it from a student.
It's a couple of days later in the week and Clarke's decided to try one of those websites where you type in all the random ingredients you have in your house and it tells you a possible meal you can make with what you got. They usually have to do this once or twice a month because they forgot to put something on the grocery list and they don't feel like ordering takeout again.
She walks out of the kitchen carrying the pot of gumbo or goulash or whatever it's supposed to be (stew maybe?) and brings it over to the table. Bellamy watches intently, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling and tries to hide it behind his glass of water.
“Well, at least it smells good,” Clarke says and sets the pot on the trivet. She plops down in her seat and then immediately shoots out of her chair due to the sound it makes.
Bellamy can’t contain his laughter after that, not that he's really trying anymore.
“What the hell?” she asks, brows furrowed in confusion. She moves the cushion on her chair to find a whoopee cushion underneath it. Clarke lifts it up with something like disbelief on her face before she turns her focus on him and stares with a frown.
Bellamy’s still chuckling, “Consider it payback.”
Clarke purses her lips but he can tell she’s trying hard not to smile. “I'm sorry,” she starts as she sits down again and waves the whoopee cushion back and forth, “are we 12?"
"Funny enough,” he says as he starts ladling food into their bowls, “I confiscated that from some frat kid in my Ancient Civilizations class that probably has the IQ of a 12 year old."
She laughs at that as he sets her bowl down in front of her. "You know the salt and sugar thing was an accident, right?"
Bellamy shrugs as he sits back down, "I know."
She shakes her head and then blows up the whoopee cushion so she can squeeze the air out directly in his face.
He smirks. Now he knows it’s on.
*
A few days later, they're both up at the same time, Clarke having to get up earlier than usual for a new exhibit opening at the museum. He's shuffling behind her on their way to the kitchen and nearly has a heart attack when he tries to cross the threshold. Someone put saran wrap from one side of the doorframe to the other, just high enough so that someone is able to walk under it while he gets a face full of plastic.
His "what the fuck!?" is drowned out by his wife’s laughter. Bellamy threatens to withhold her morning caffeine, but they both know that's an empty threat.
He retaliates instead by putting bubble wrap under the rug that leads to their bathroom one night after she's gone to sleep. It succeeds in scaring the literal piss out of her at 3am. (That one kind of backfires because it scares him awake too and somehow he ends up on the floor.)
It's the next week when Clarke strikes again, sticking with her tried and true plastic wrap. Bellamy almost breaks the damn bottle of his body wash with how hard he tries to squeeze the soap out. Apparently that wasn’t enough because she covered the openings of his shampoo and conditioner too. Jokes on her though cause he doesn't mind smelling like her citrus wash and shampoo all day.
He tries something a little more creative next and hides all of her right shoes so she's forced to go to work with two mismatched left flats.
Since apparently this opens up work attire as a new area for their so-called torture, she hides all of his ties except for the novelty one Murphy got him as a gag gift that has rubber ducks on it. She makes sure to take a picture and send it to their entire friend group.
Bellamy knows, logically, that they could stop at any time. But the pranks are harmless, even a little exhilarating, as they wait to see what the other will do next. They still kiss each other good morning, binge watch sitcom reruns curled up on the couch in the afternoons, and make love at night. They’re not even that subtle about it, each one having caught the other looking up pranks online which prompts Clarke to politely inform him that if he fills her Oreos with toothpaste that she would definitely divorce him.
It startles him a bit when, about a little over a month after this whole “prank war” thing started, she meets him at the garage door when he gets home with a smile on her face. He's wary, to say the least.
"What did you do?" He asks, wondering if he’s missed a sign taped to his back all day.
She chuckles softly, "Nothing. But I have a surprise for you.”
She takes his hand and leads him to sit down on the couch while she perches in front of him on the coffee table. Her hand never leaves his and now she’s brought the other one into the mix so his is sandwiched between her small ones.
"I'm pregnant."
He feels his breath hitch and his heart stop. But then his head starts to weigh in and he narrows his eyes as her.
"That's not funny, Clarke."
She blinks at him, opens and closes her mouth a few times before she finally speaks. "What, you think I'm lying?"
"Come on, clearly you stole this from Brooklyn Nine Nine. We just rewatched that heist episode the other night.”
Clarke let’s go of his hand so she can drop her head into her’s and groan, "Oh my God, Bellamy.”
He’s not done though; he’s more than a little miffed. "Where did you see this prank going exactly?” he has to ask.
"It's not a fucking prank,” She snaps at him. “And if I have to pee on a Goddamn stick in front of you to prove it then fine."
She's clearly upset about this which makes him more inclined to believe her. And really, deep down, Bellamy knows she wouldn't lie about something like this. Something they both want.
All the same, he follows her without protest as she drags him into their bathroom and makes him sit on the edge of the tub while she rifles through the cabinet under the sink, grumbling the whole way as she does it.
When she's done; she sets a timer on her phone, crosses her arms, and stares at him while they wait. She’s sitting on the closed toilet lid, her eyes narrowed and her mouth twisted into a pout.
Her phone goes off and she continues to look at him but her stare turns pointed, eyes shifting from him to the stick and then back to him. His palms are sweaty and he doesn't know why but he reaches across her for the pregnancy test on the counter
All the air leaves his lungs in a simple, "Holy shit."
"I'm going to hold this against you for, like, the entire pregnancy. And maybe the first few years of this kid's life."
She's probably still pretty pissed at him but she's looking at him with tears in her eyes so he figures it’s safe to lean forward and press a soft kiss to her lips.
She keeps her word. And when she says she's in labor, he’s sure to believe her.
#no one cares ashleigh#my fanfiction#bellarke fanfiction#bffnet#bellarke bingo#i'm going to post this and run away because omg#i've never been in a prank war so i asked all of my married friends what they do to each other#i also almost checked off bellamy blake + glasses#i think it was chash that said bellamy is always wearing glasses in her fics unless explicitly stating otherwise and honestly same
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Y'all mind if I go on a little tangent about one of my more recent favorite YouTubers? Bc like,,, I'm gonna.
Okay, so! One of my favorite overly-specific genres of YouTube video is the "well-researched mini docu-series covering topics you may or may not have cared about prior to watching". That shit's like a five-star meal for my neurodivergent brain. Some of my favorites of this type include Defunctland and Wait in the Wings. But there's another YouTuber of this type that I've been watching lately called Pop Arena, more specifically, his Nick Knacks series.
Basically, it's a series chronicling the ENTIRE history of Nickelodeon. Not just like the popular Nicktoons, no no no, I'm talking literally EVERYTHING. Even if it didn't originally broadcast on Nick, as long as it aired on the channel at some point, it's prime subject matter for Nick Knacks. Shows like Lassie and Dennis the Menace were old 50's shows, but since they aired reruns on Nick, they had (very well-made) Nick Knacks episodes made about them. And it's all done in order of when they aired on Nick (barring things like holiday specials)! They're in the year 1986, with their most recent episode being an hour and a half long video on Double Dare as of the time of me writing this.
The host of the show, Greg, seems like a REALLY cool guy. He has no qualms about talking about his left-wing ideals, which was very pleasantly surprising the first time I watched the series. For example, one of the very first Nick Knacks holiday specials (I thiiiink it was the episode on the Weinerville Chanukah Special, but don't quote me on that? Listen, this show has a lot of episodes, and I binged them all in a matter of 4-5 days, some things get jumbled up) starts off with him calling the supposed "War on Christmas" a bunch of right-wing bullshit (okay, maybe not EXACTLY that, but you get the picture). All of the more recent episodes have a caption over the end card that simply says "Trans rights are human rights". Yeah, it's only at the end, and it's very brief. But like, he didn't HAVE to put that there. But he did! And like I said, it's in ALL of the most recent episodes (though I forget which one was the first to have it). The fact that it's there AT ALL, and it's become a consistent thing with every episode, just makes this series all the better for me.
He's also not afraid to call out these shows on their more problematic elements, even if they're classics, and he handles the more serious subject matter with a lot of respect and tact. In the episode on "You Can't Do That on Television" (my personal favorite Nick Knacks episode), he praises the show for pretty much saving the channel, while ALSO spending a good chunk of the video talking about how the show's creator, Roger Price's, overuse of the "haha hehe man in a dress" gag, and how it's... not great that it's almost always CHILDREN being used in these gags. He absolutely TEARS Mister Ed a new asshole in it's respective episode for it's mean-spirited and often sexist humor. He spends the entire latter half of the aforementioned Dennis the Menace episode talking about the abuse Jay North suffered on the set of the show, and the general mistreatment of child actors in show business for that matter, and he handles it VERY respectfully.
Also, on top of being educational, the series can also be pretty funny when it wants to be! Of course, there's the "The past was a mistake" running gag, but my personal favorite recurring joke is seemingly every "Wilderness Exploration" show that aired on Nick has a episode about clowns for some reason. It's a very specific thing, but it's so fucking absurd that it's hilarious.
TL;DR, watch Nick Knacks. It's best if you watch the series in order, but it's not IMPOSSIBLE to follow if you decide to go out of order. My personal recommendations for individual episodes? Well...
The episode on You Can't Do That On Television. Very long, but still a very entertaining video.
The episode on Lassie. Again, this one is pretty long, but it's very informative. (also, #spookisagoodboythatdidhisbest)
The episode on Dennis the Menace (like I said, this episode has a significant portion of it dedicated to talking about child abuse, so keep that mind)
The episode on Going Great (if only for the clips of Baby Keanu Reeves™)
The episodes on Today's Special and Dusty's Treehouse (nothing particularly exciting about these ones, but if you're like me and are thoroughly fascinated by old-school puppet shows, you'll like these ones)
Both of the episodes on Hocus Focus. (the first one of these was mostly a mini-doc about the life and career of the show's star, puppeteer Brad Williams, since there was no footage of the show available at the time. But a full episode was uploaded online, so he made an addendum episode talking about it)
I could go on with episode recommendations, but this post is long enough. Just watch the entire series, tbh. It's good quarantine binging material.
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Grave Danger
The prompt for the 26th was: Graveyard Shift.
This is set in what’s basically a reverse!AU. It is not suitable for work.
Barclay shouldn’t be out here.
Not in the “he’s going to get in trouble if he’s caught” way. In the “if the world was fair, he wouldn’t be doing a graveyard shift in a literal graveyard” way.
But the network demands more episodes of “Chasing Bigfoot” and unless he wants to be fired and broke, he must deliver them. It’s not that he completely hates his job; the money pays the rent, paid for top surgery, half-paid for phallo, and sometimes nets him fans who are actually interested in the science of investigating the unknown rather than night-vision camera footage of blurry objects. But much of the fanbase loves that second category.
That’s why he’s here in Kepler, WV, investigating a viral Bigfoot sighting (Barclay is 95% sure that the video is someone in a Chewbacca costume). That’s why he’s staying at the Amnesty Lodge, still slightly visible down the hill and through the trees.
The Lodge is actually the best part of this whole trip. The residents were wary of him at first, but they’ve been warming up to him.
And there’s one in particular that he’d love to warm up. Joseph Stern, blue eyed and dark haired, fastidious and charming. Barclay’s done his best to flirt with the other man, but so far has gotten only to the point of a casual friendship.
He sighs, adjusts the settings on his camera. It’s a tiny, handheld one, as the ratings suggest that audiences love grainy, shaky footage of him being out in the woods at night. Or a graveyard. Specifically, a graveyard where earlier in the day he’d spotted some footprints that were really, really weird. He loves cryptozoology, even if he knows much of it is faked, and he’d love to be the one to finally find proof of previously unknown species.
Bushes rustle further up the hill, and he hops the run-down stone wall at the edge of the cemetary to investigate. It’s probably just a deer, but it might make for some decent B-Roll.
He ducks under branches, looking through the viewfinder as he enters a small clearing.
A huge shape, covered in black fur, is surveying the ground. It raises its head up, then stands on its hind legs.
A werewolf. An honest to fucking god werewolf.
This is amazing. This is going to make his whole career. He can make millions, he can retire from this shitty show, can open his own restaurant, just as soon as he sells this footage of, of….
Of a werewolf looking directly at him, eyes glinting in the moonlight.
It growls and, without thinking, he runs. The creature howls once, then gives chase.
He doesn’t even make it ten yards. Strong claws connect with his back and knock him to the ground. Ripping fabric and short, aggravated growls fill the air as the monster paws at him, rolling him this way and that. He curls in on himself, protecting the camera and his vital organs.
“Where is it?” The wolf snarls in his ear.
“Wh-where is what?”
“The camera.”
“I, it’s.” Another growl, a clawed hand tightening on the back of his neck and he realizes that even if he hands the camera over, he’s a dead man if he doesn’t get away from this thing first.
“I don’t have a camera, so fuck off.” He kicks his foot back, catching the wolf in the ribs, and starts crawling away. It yelps, grabs his ankle and drags him back. He throws an elbow, gets his wrists pinned beneath one massive paw for his trouble.
“Give. Me. the. Camera.”
With mounting terror, he understands that a fight would be pointless.
“Inside pocket of my jacket. Please” the werewolf flips him over, rifles under his coat, “please, just take it and let me go. I, I really don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die as some z-list reality star, I haven’t even gotten to ask the cute guy at the lodge out yet.”
The werewolf, camera in hand, blinks at him, “cute guy?”
“Uh huh, uh, he’s, he’s sorta the manager of the place, he listens to me when I talk about foodie stuff and my dream restaurant, and he’s really funny and I, I really like him, and I wanna ask him out, which I can’t do if you eat me, and uh-”
“If you wanted to ask him, why haven’t you?” The werewolf crosses it’s arms, sitting back on its heels. The disapproving look on its face has him stammering to explain himself.
“Be-cause I, um, I’m not totally sure how he feels about me. Sometimes he’s really friendly and flirty, then he gets kinda stand-offish. I just don’t want him to feel uncomfortable around me. But if you don’t kill me, I swear I’ll ask him to dinner, first thing tomorrow.”
“That won’t be necessary.” The wolf leans closer, grinning.
“Fuck.” Barclay squeaks out, shutting his eyes because he really doesn’t want to see his organs leave his body.
The clawed hand cups his chin.
“Look at me, Barclay.” The command is quiet.
He does, peeking out from his lashes to see the wolf gazing at him with clever, blue eyes.
“Stern?”
The wolf nods, but doesn’t let go of his chin.
“Are you gonna kill me?”
Stern lets go and sighs, prolonged and put-upon, “No, I’m not. I just needed to get this” he holds up the camera, “and there’s really no way to chase someone in this form that doesn’t make them think I want to eat them. But I couldn’t risk you getting away and someone seeing that footage. I never wanted to hurt you, or even frighten you.”
“But aren’t werewolves supposed to be, like, mindless killers when they transform?”
That disapproving look is back, “In pop culture, yes. In reality, no. And we don’t need the moon to transform either. We just look like this.” He gazes at Barclay, fangs showing in a smile, “Now, do you have something you want to ask me?”
Barclays brain stalls out and Sterns shoulders fall, his ears flatten, and he stares at the forest floor.
“It’s alright if you’re not interested in me after learning what I am. I understand.” He says softly. Barclay recognizes the way his face struggles to stay neutral; he’s seen it happen a few times when the other man got bad news. It’s odd, seeing Sterns mannerisms mapped onto such an intimidating form.
Odd, but endearing.
Barclay reaches out, touches his fingers to Sterns left arm.
“Hey.”
Stern looks at him, ears perking up.
“You wanna grab dinner with me tomorrow?”
“Yes.” He takes Barclays hand in both of his, fur lush and radiating warmth, “I kept hoping you’d ask, even if I knew it was better that you didn’t get too close to me.”
“Because of the whole werewolf thing?”
“In a way. Me being like this is part of something...much bigger. And Mama and I, we have to be careful about what people find out about Kepler and the lodge. It’s our job to keep them safe. Having someone whose whole job is finding monsters learn the truth is an immense risk. So even though I was, er, am attracted to you, I knew it was best to steer clear. Unfortunately, my heart didn’t get the memo.”
“Aw, babe.” Barclay draws his other hand down Sterns cheek.
“I do wish we’d been able to clear the air some other way.”
“You wish? I’m the one who thought I was gonna be torn apart.” Barclay teases.
“I’m sorry. If I had my enchantment on, I’d offer an apology kiss.” Then he grins, leans forward, and nuzzles the crook of Barclays neck. Barclay snickers, then full-on laughs when his tongue darts out.
“What’s so funny?” He does it again.
“It kinda tickles, and it, uh, it feels nice AHhey.” He laughs harder as Stern continues snuffling and licking at him, one arm looping around his waist.
“I do sincerely apologize for such poor customer service.”
“Gonna ah!, ha, leave you a bad yelp review.” He does his best to wrap his arms around Sterns shoulders.
“Oh no, the horror.” Stern deadpans, nuzzling his cheek. Barclay absentmindedly scratches the thick, dark fur on the back of his neck. Stern is sleeker than most depictions of werewolves he’s seen, and that combined with his coloration makes him striking to behold.
“You never had a bunch of people mad at you online have you-what’s that noise?”
“Ah, well, um.”
“Is your tail-?”
“Please don’t say wagging. It’s just a physical expression of the fact that I feel good.”
“That so?” Barclay scritches the same spot and the soft thumping increases, so he skates his nails over Sterns shoulders and down his chest. He presses them down firmer on the next pass.
Stern growls; a guttural, terrifying noise.
But in place of terror, something hot and dark Barclay’s his system and he freezes.
Stern pulls back, “I’m so sorry, that noise can be really unnerving, it’s mostly a reflex.”
“Unnerving. Right.”
Sterns eyes go wide, and his nose is once again against Barclays throat. He sniffs, hot breath raising goosebumps on his skin.
“Barclay, would you like to know something else about this form?” He murmurs.
“Sure.”
“My sense of smell is extremely good. And I can pick up on things like fear. And….” one claw trails gently on Barclays stomach, “arousal. I sense that second feeling coming off you. Am I picking up the right thing?”
“Uh huh. I gotta be honest babe, this is the horniest and the most confused I’ve been in awhile.”
“I’m a bit surprised myself.” He’s rubbing his hands along Barclays arms, comfortingly, “And if you’re not interested, or need more time to adjust, say the word and I’ll back off.”
“And if I want you to, uh, keep going?”
Another growl and he’s flat on his back, Stern looming over him, teeth bared. He tries to move, finds he can’t as strong, clawed fingers dig into his shoulders.
“Fucking-A, that’s hot.”
Sterns’ laugh is deeper than normal, but it’s still bright and happy when he stares adoringly down at Barclay.
“Do you like being my prey?”
“Now that I know you’re not actually gonna eat me? Yes.”
“Mmmmmm” Stern traces a clawtip along Barclays lips, then down his throat, which he bears as he arches his back, “Glad to hear it, even if it means I owe Duck ten dollars.”
“What? Ohfuck.” Stern drags his tongue along Barclays collarbone as he rather daintily undoes his shirt.
“We were all relaxing one night and there was some, um, speculation as to how various people we know are in bed. I maintained that you might like being the dominant one, since you’re so gentle normally and could enjoy the chance to cut loose. Duck insisted you “look like you wanted me to bend you over and make you cry.”
“Holy fuck.”
“Duck can be rather blue.” Stern zig-zags the very tip of a claw down his chest
“Is he, shit, also fucking psychic?”
“No, though he can see the future and, wait, oh, oh of course” he shakes his head, “he looked at the future to see what you’d be into.”
Barclay’s about to ask why Stern makes bets with someone who can see the future when Stern growls again, dropping down and rolling his hips against him. Paws his legs lovingly, licks and nips at his chest.
“That, oh fuck, that feels so good babe, just don’t go turning me into a werewolf.”
“That’s not how it actually works.” Stern huffs.
“Uh huh, sure. Maybe I’ll just-” He sinks his teeth into Sterns upper arm. There’s a snarl, and Barclay is flipped onto his stomach. He moans, tucking his knees underneath him.
“Look at you, putting your ass in the air for me like a good boy.”
“Joseph” He whispers.
“I’m right here, don’t worry. I’m going to make such good use of you, I’ll make you feel so good.” The barest hint of teeth brush his neck, Stern surrounding him on all sides, warm and heavy. He feels safer than he has in years.
“Undo your jeans.” He’s gripping Barclays hips.
Barclay obeys, and they’re quickly yanked down to his knees, taking his boxers with them.
“Now” something slick and solid teases at his ass, “in case it isn’t obvious, there is no way this is fitting without some serious preparation. So, you won’t be getting it that way tonight.”
Barclay whines. Claws clamp down on his neck, “That is not negotiable, no matter how badly we both want it. Spread your legs.”
Barclay does his best, is rewarded by Stern stroking his hair, growling softly, “good boy.”
A cock, thick and already sticky with pre-cum, slides between his thighs.
“Close them.”
He does, and this time a strong arm slips beneath him. When Sterns hand circles his cock, he whimpers, pushing back instinctively. Stern gives a sharp growl.
“That’s it. Oh lord it’s wonderful, having you underneath me like this. Maybe we should just stay like this. I could hold you this way all night.”
“Joseph, baby, please, I’ll do anything, just move.”
The grip on his cock tightens.
“You’re not the one giving the orders, Barclay. Remember that.” Stern nuzzles his ear, voice dripping with menace.
“S-sorry, fuckfuck” he pulls up fistfulls of dirt as Stern pounds against him, the movement of his thrusts forcing Barclay to fuck into his fist over and over again. He gasps when finds Sterns cock is long enough to brush his own as he fucks his thighs.
“See, I was right not to try to shove that into this” he paws Barclays ass.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck” Barclay chants in time with the movement of Sterns hips.
“Say it”
“You, you were right, you’re always right, I’ll listen to you for the rest of my life because of how right you are, shit, shit.”
“That’s right, you will. Because you like having someone who could tear you to shreds do this instead.”
The pressure on Barclays cock is the best kind of too-tight, Stern thumbing at the tip relentlessly. It’s efficient, calculated, so very Stern.
“Oh yeah, fuck that feels good, babe, gahfuck, where did you learn to give such an amazing handjo-ohhhhshit.” He thumps his fist on the ground as he comes, trying and failing to bury the whimper he makes as Stern refuses to stop fucking him.
The hand that moments ago was jacking him off settles by his head as Stern hunches further forward, chin resting on Barclays shoulder as the jerks his hips. The precision is waning, the thrusts between his thighs growing ragged and stuttery.
Stern pants in his ear, “You’re taking me so well, your thighs feel delicious, nnh, I cannot wait to fuck your ass, I cannot wait to make you scream.” His voice is stuck in a deep growl and he mouths at Barclays skin hungrily.
“Whatever you want, babe.” Barclay says dreamily, resting his hand atop Sterns own, leaves crunching as he does.
“That’s right, whatever I want, because you are mine, all mine, and I cannot believe it, ohlord, yesyes.” He thrusts as far as he can, the thick, flared base of his cock pushing through Barclays legs for the first time. Come spurts on Barclays belly, drips down his thighs, as Stern holds him close, growls giving way to higher, sweeter sounds.
They collapse onto their sides, still tangled together. Barclay manages to turn, bring them face to face. Stern is grinning at him, claws coming up to carefully brush his hair from his face, and there’s the tell-tale thwup-thwup of his tail on the ground.
“Well, that was a first.”
“Never fucked a human before?”
“No, not that part. You, ah, you called” his voice goes shy, “you called me babe. Not really a pet name I’d ever thought someone would use on me when I looked like this.”
“Does it bug you?”
“Not at all.” He brings Barclays right palm up to his face and nuzzles it, then catches sight of his appearance, “oh dear, we should get back to the lodge so you can clean up before that...hardens.”
They pick their way back through the trees, unseen, and slip through the back door. When they reach Sterns room, Barclay strips off his dirty clothes and Stern picks up a small necklace. As soon as he puts it on, it’s now a purely human face that smiles at the other man.
“I don’t usually forget it when I go out on a scouting mission. It just slipped my mind this time. Careless, really.”
“Dunno, think it worked out pretty well. Oh, here” Barclay takes the camera, pops out the chip and hands it to Stern, “that’s all the footage of you I got. Plus, like, some B-roll that I can retake tomorrow.”
Stern takes it, kisses his cheek, which turns into a tender, promising kiss on the lips. Reluctantly, Barclay breaks away to go shower. When he returns, Stern is in a set of matching, X-Files patterned pajamas, reading. He flips open the covers and Barclay crawls beneath them, the silk of the pajamas wonderfully cool against his bare skin as Stern nestles in his arms.
“I must say, it is nice to find someone who’s bigger than me in at least one form. It makes for excellent cuddling.”
“Glad to be of service.” Barclay rests his cheek on Sterns forehead, “you still wanna go out tomorrow night?”
“Of course. Though I request that any fucking take place in my nice comfy bed. I keep finding leaves stuck in odd places.”
“You got a deal.”
“And, if you like and Mama is comfortable with you learning more about the lodge, I think I may know where you could find work as chef. Since it’s apparent to anyone who talks to you for more than five minutes that’s your true calling.”
“That’d be amazing.”
A final, sweet kiss.
“Goodnight, Barclay.”
“Goodnight. Babe.”
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