#and i posted a picture of teenage chewie

[loveryss]

Forgot to age Chewie up, whoops. Now her and the twins are classmates

+ Erin & Mara’s first school drawings!

[mischiefandi]

A Shitty Love Song (Part 1) - Stiles Stilinski

Wild Ones

A/N: hey everyone! this has been a long time coming! thank you for lovely comments on my previous post, im super happy to finally be posting this. a HUGE thank you to @duskholland​ for helping me out so much with this series, ily to death bitch. enjoyy yall

Summary: Y/N is a 17 year old girl who struggles in an epic battle against herself. Whether it is amor’s icy grasp or life’s unexpected course that forces her to finally open up, only one thing is certain. The truth cannot be long hidden.

Warnings: underage drinking, party times, maybe a couple of swear words but im not sure haha

Word Count: 5,3K

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader (Y/N)

Series Masterlist

(picture is not mine -> credits to @ pechka on unsplash)

Seasons before, in the early fall where the leaves don’t yet want to leave their wooden hooks, Y/N had just started her junior year of high school. Being the new girl in school, she was afraid of being alone - something she had always been - but not this year. Whether it was chance or fate, she happened to fall upon a curious but wonderful group of people who quickly became her friends.  

At its center, Scott McCall, young lacrosse player with a boyish charm and a heart of gold and by his side, Stiles Stilinski, an eccentric and spirited young man. Surrounding them were Lydia Martin, the fiery and confident genius, the sweet yet lethal huntress, Allison Argent, and finally Isaac Lahey, charming Mr Mischief himself.

This pack of wild cards had found a new companion, and Y/N fit in like a puzzle piece filling in its designated spot. She got along with everyone in the group, forming indestructible friendships with these eccentric teenagers, and she felt fortunate beyond belief. More often than not, she would eat with them by the walnut tree outside of the school. The group would share stories and food, complaining about the soporific lessons from the earlier period, or excitedly planning the next outing, the next party. Every week, the teenagers would go hang out in the woods by the mystical ruins of the Hale House, doing more of the same. Life was light and good.

The group had planned on hanging out by the Hale House one quiet September afternoon, but the universe likes to play tricks, and somehow Y/N and Stiles were the only ones to show up. Deeming it a happy accident, the pair walked through the damp woods together, talking about their day and slowly letting each other in. Laughter echoed between the trees and the wind turned.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

A little more than a month had gone by and Halloween was just around the corner. Classes seemed longer than usual, bigger stacks of schoolwork forming daunting piles on Y/N’s desk. But school was the last thing she could think of when she got home after a long day of concentration. The only thing that mattered, was Stiles. Video calls, phone calls, and late night texts that seemed to never cease took over the second Y/N’s feet passed the threshold of her home. And nothing compared to these conversations.

“I’m sorry but no.”

“Stiles, stop, seriously.”

The mole-speckled boy lunged forward in front of the screen and passed a shaking hand through his spiky hair.

“There is no way you like the second trilogy better than the first one. It’s just not possible.”

“Well it is possible, because I do,” Y/N retorted, her unfazed expression gleaming back at him.

“Literally how? The group dynamic alone should make you see reason. I mean come on. Han and Leia? Han and Chewie? Han and Luke?”

“You do know Star Wars doesn’t exclusively revolve around Han Solo right?” she asked, her lips breaking into a smirk.

“First of all, no. Second, give me one single reason why the second trilogy is better than the first,” Stiles said, “I dare you.”

“One reason?”

The boy nodded, serious as a statue.

“Hayden Christensen.”

Stiles groaned deeply, his face buried in his large hands.

“Can’t even have a serious discussion about Star Wars with someone rational.”

“I’m not sorry.”

“You’re the worst.”

Y/N paused, holding a finger to her chin.

“Hmm, agree to disagree.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“Hey! How can we have an intelligent debate about anything if you use swearing as a last resort.”

“I have given up on us. It’s over.”

Y/N laughed profusely against her pillow, shaking her head.

“You’re a drama queen.”

“FRIENDSHIP OVER!” Stiles bellowed and Y/N shot her head back, unstoppable laughter erupting from her stomach.

“It’s going to make things awkward at the party, Friday,” Y/N said between chuckles, her laughter quieting down.

“Who said you were even invited,” replied Stiles, adjusting his shirt, revealing a tiny patch of skin just above his sweats. Y/N’s eyes flicked over to the screen but the second had passed.

“Funny. Listen, I gotta get some sleep otherwise I’ll pass out in math or something.”

“Yeah, I should probably also go to bed sometime soon.”

“Hopefully before tomorrow morning.”

“Har-har,” said Stiles, smiling at the camera, his chocolatey irises beaming at Y/N.

“Goodnight nerd.”

“Goodnight loser.”

Y/N stuck out her tongue at Stiles before hanging up the call.

That night, as she carefully brushed her teeth and got her clothes ready for the next day, Y/N thought back on her video call with Stiles, a warm smile spreading on her lips.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

The week passed so slowly, each hour lasting an exhausting eternity. School, demanding as ever, while keeping Y/N busy, was the reason why time seemed so lengthy. The nasty side-effect from tantalizing hours is the amount of thinking you do to keep busy. So Y/N did just that. She thought about how much she cared for her group of friends, she thought about the fact that she had never felt like she belonged like she did then.

She thought about how nice it was sitting by the Hale House, enjoying each others’ company, how life is so much lighter when you feel surrounded, how much she had learned about herself after meeting the pack. She thought about the band Stiles and her liked so much. She thought about Star Wars. She thought about the sound her computer made when Stiles sent her a message. She thought of his hair, his moles, his neck. She thought about how thrilling it was when he sat next to her. She thought about how much he mattered in her life, just like the others mattered too.

Y/N did so much thinking that week. But the funny thing is, amor has a way of tricking your mind. Your body believes one thing but your mind has been bewitched, and no amount of thinking you do can remove the fog clouding over your eyes. 

When came Friday, Y/N was happy to be done with school, bursting through the doors of the establishment, excited to go home and get ready for Danny’s Blackout Party. She was thrilled about going, however nervous she felt. 

She had never been to a party like Danny’s rave before and she had no idea what to expect. But more importantly, she was afraid of crowds. She had tried going out to packed bars with people from her old school, but the chaos and the drunks surrounding her made her feel beyond uneasy. 

“Y/N! Wait up!” She heard Allison exclaim, and she slowed down her pace, allowing the brunette to catch up with her.

“Are you excited for tonight?” asked Allison, her light brown eyes gleaming brightly.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be...crazy.”

“You okay?”

Y/N forced a smile and nodded overenthusiastically.

“Yeah! Just tired. It was a long day,” she replied.

“Same here, which is why, we need to let loose tonight! Let’s get ready at Lydia’s, so we can all head over there together.”

“Sure. Quick question though, how did Lydia get us invited in the first place?”

Allison giggled, nodding her head towards Aiden and Ethan standing by their motorcycles.

“How do you think?”

The girl’s laughter echoed through the cool autumn air and disappeared with their cars. It was going to be a night to remember.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

As Y/N and Allison reached Lydia’s house, Y/N couldn’t help but feel more and more anxious, tightly gripping her bag filled with clothes and makeup. The party was starting to worry her.

People had been whispering about it all day back at the high school, talking about the numerous illicit drinks that would be served and the intriguing entertainment. It seemed like the Danny had gone all out for Halloween. Still, not knowing exactly what to expect practically terrified Y/N. 

She was outgoing, but big crowds and chaos were things that made panic bubble up inside of her very core, quickening her heartbeat to a frightening extent. She loved dancing and partying, and much like other people her age, she loved a good drink every once in a while, but huge events and big blowouts, she had never been a fan of.

Putting on a brave face, Y/N shut the car door and walked up the stairs to Lydia’s front porch, ringing the doorbell as Allison locked the car. After what seemed like mere seconds, Lydia opened the door, letting the excited girls in.

“Finally. I thought I was going to have to get going without you,” she said, smirking at the pair.

“Y/N couldn’t decide what to wear,” replied Allison, sending Y/N a look that made Lydia scoff.

“Excuse me if I've never been to a neon-themed rave. How am I supposed to know what to wear?”

“Well the name of said rave could be a pretty good indicator,” mocked Lydia as the girls walked up to her bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

“Ali, what are you wearing?”

Allison giggled with a smirk and did a demonstrative twirl, showing off her burgundy flannel shirt and black jeans.

“This!”

Lydia raised her eyebrows at the brunette, a confused expression etched on her face.

“Am I the only one here who understands the term “neon”?” she asked.

Allison shook her head then slowly unbuttoned her shirt, revealing a neon pink bra.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. This stunt was definitely orchestrated for someone special.

“Wow. Isaac will love it.”

“It’s about time you two did something about your situation,” joked Lydia, reaching for an eyelash curler.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” replied Allison with an innocent shrug and a slightly less innocent wink.

“Well now that Allison’s outfit is sorted, it’s your turn, Y/N. Let’s see what’s in this enormous bag of yours.”

The strawberry blonde bent down and grabbed Y/N’s bag before she could say anything, emptying its contents in a flash.

“No, no, definitely not, no…Y/N, why are all of these clothes black?” inquired Lydia, with a look of disgust she had difficulty hiding.

“Lyds, I told you, I don’t know what to wear to a rave.”

“Show me your bra.”

“What?”

“Show me your bra. If it’s the right colour, we can just pair it with some of my clothes.”

Y/N reluctantly removed her white shirt, revealing an electric blue floral lace bra, much to Lydia’s delight. Allison whistled approvingly.

“Okay here’s what we’re gonna do.” Lydia walked over to her closet, carefully studying its contents. Allison and Y/N exchanged a glance as Lydia clapped her hands together.

“This goes with this, and you have to tuck it in, like so,” she said, “okay, try this on. Now.”

Y/N looked down at the outfit her friend had put together.

“Yes ma’am,” she mumbled, her face as white as a sheet.

Y/N walked to the corner of the room as the girls chatted and finished getting ready. Her heart thundered as she passed her neck through the bottom of the sheer black top Lydia had handed to her. Looking herself in the mirror, all she could see was a blushing dishevelled mess. Her bra covered most of her chest, but the curves of her breasts were only slightly hidden by the black mesh material she was wearing.

“Okay, this is okay…” she muttered to herself, trying not to panic.

Bending down, she grabbed the black layered skirt she had brought with her and brought it up to her hips, tucking the top inside. The skirt helped balance out the outfit, but still Y/N wasn’t fully convinced.

“How are you feeling?”

“Kind of nervous honestly.”

“I meant how do you feel about the outfit- but you’re nervous? Why?” asked Lydia, walking over to Y/N in front of the full-length mirror.

“It’s just- I’ve never been to a big party like tonight, much less looking like…this,” Y/N reluctantly replied.

Lydia bit her lip and sucked in some air before smiling widely at Y/N and taking a step forward.

“By “looking like this” I hope you mean by looking incredible. Y/N, look at yourself. You’re tall and confident, the outfit looks amazing on you. Your look is not the problem,” she said, gently.

“Then what is?”

“You tell us,” replied Allison, walking over to the girls by the mirror.

Y/N exhaled deeply and turned around to face her friends.

“I hate crowds. I love partying don’t get me wrong, I just- I get really really panicky around big crowds of people. The noise, the warmth, all of it, just terrifies me. I’m worried that I’ll hate it and freak out or something. I’m sorry, I probably should have said something before.”

As soon as the daunting words had slipped through her lips, Y/N felt a weight lift from her weary shoulders, a wave of relief passing over her entire body.

“Hey, it’s okay. Everyone’s got something they’re uncomfortable with. It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” said Allison, sweetly.

“I know, it’s not that I’m ashamed, I just- didn’t wanna be a downer. I really am excited for tonight! I’m just nervous.”

Lydia placed her hands on Y/N’s shoulders and smiled brightly.

“Look, you’re gorgeous right now. Even without my help, you’re gorgeous. And tonight, we’ll be around the whole time. If you feel freaked out or you start to panic, we’ll go outside and get some fresh air. We don’t mind.”

“Exactly, we’re your friends. You know you can depend on us on occasion,” Allison joked and Y/N laughed, shaking her head timidly.

“Seriously, Y/N, we’re gonna have a ton of fun tonight. And if you need anything, whatsoever, we’re both here,” added Lydia.

Y/N’s heart swelled and she felt her eyes filling slowly. Blinking the impending tears away, she smiled widely, her radiant eyes following suite.

“Thank you, both of you. You’re the best.”

“Agreed. Now, that’s sorted. Are you comfortable with the outfit?” asked Lydia.

Y/N looked at herself in the mirror, analyzing every detail of her figure, taking in how “out there” the outfit was. After a few seconds, she nodded to herself and smiled.

“You know what? You only live once.”

Allison giggled and rested her arms on Y/N’s shoulder.

“Tonight is going to be amazing!”

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

As Lydia’s car pulled into the parking lot in front of the venue - a large concrete building comparable to a construction site - Y/N sent a text to her friend.

Y/N: we just got to danny’s party

Y/N: u guys here?

The girls looked up at the windows on the top level, the neon lights shining through catching their attention, the music already reaching their ears.

The group excitedly entered the building, Y/N’s heart thundering against her ribcage. Allison noticed the worried look on her friend’s face and she slipped her hand in hers, sending her a warm smile. Y/N took a deep breath, and the three beautiful girls went into the otherwise empty elevator. On the way up, Y/N’s phone vibrated against her palm and she looked down at the screen.

Stiles: we aren’t there yet

Stiles: Scott needed to go get something

Y/N’s heart couldn’t help but sink a little. She had hoped the boys were going to be there already, though why, she couldn’t say. Her phone interrupted her thoughts again.

Scott: by smth, Stiles means someone

Scott: and by someone, he means Kira

Scott: also we’re late because of the jeep

Scott: ;)

Y/N chuckled and texted him back, Lydia and Allison sharing an inquisitive look.

Y/N: figures :))

“Who is that?” asked Allison as the elevator doors opened.

Y/N winced slightly and turned to Allison.

“It’s the boys. Scott was just telling me they picked up Kira…”

“Oh.”

Lydia looked from Allison to Y/N, and back, the awkwardness beyond tangible.

“Are you okay?” asked Y/N, worried that the news had killed the mood.

“Honestly? I don’t love the idea of partying with my ex and his new girlfriend, but we broke up three months ago. We’ve both moved on. Besides, I really like Isaac. I’m not gonna let this ruin my evening,” Allison answered, a soft smile on her lips.

“Allison has Isaac, Scott has Kira, Stiles- well I don’t know about Stiles. That leaves you and me, Y/N. You can help me avoid Aiden tonight,” said Lydia, straightening her dress.

“Aiden, as in, the guy you hooked up with who just so happens to be the guy who invited you to this rave?”

“Precisely.” Lydia walked away hurriedly, and the girls laughed, entering the venue.

The grey concrete in the hall was uncharacteristically bland compared to the other-worldly burst of colours inside of the venue. Neon blue, pink, orange, yellow, and green exploding in every direction, paired with blaring purple lights attached to the concrete beams above the dancefloor where what looked like at least 70 people were jumping up and down to the beat of Losing It by FISHER. Strands of white UV tubes hanging from the ceiling all around the dancefloor lit up every white item of clothing in the room, turning the pure colour into a bright purple.

This giant nebula of chaos and colour made Y/N’s blood pump ten times faster throughout her body. That or the the bass blasting through the giant speakers by the DJ. Either way, the thrill of it made Y/N shiver, her whole body completely frozen in place. 

“This is crazy!” Allison gasped.

“Danny really went all out,” said Lydia, staring at the dancing figures in the center of the room.

Y/N’s phone buzzing woke her from her trance and she read the text.

Stiles: be there in about 20 minutes

Stiles: can’t wait to embarrass you on the dancefloor

Y/N: oof

“Let’s go get a drink,” Lydia urged, walking over to the large snack table with numerous bottles. Y/N read the labels and nodded, impressed by the wide range of drinks.

“Wow. Jack Daniels, vodka, a shitton of beer, wine coolers, rum, Jagermeister…Danny really did go all out.”

“Pass me a cup,” said Allison.

As the girls filled their glasses, Lydia eyed Y/N’s cup.

“Y/N, are you sure you want to start with a triple shot of vodka?”

“Yeah, it’s fine!” Y/N exclaimed, downing the drink before anyone could stop her and gasping as the strong liquid burned its way down her throat.

“Ohkay, take it easy,” said Allison, shooting a worried glance at Lydia.

“I’ve got it under control,” replied Y/N as she refilled her cup.

“Let’s go dance!”

Allison dragged the girls away from the table, walking over to the dancefloor. Y/N downed her second drink and nodded wearily.

“Yesss, let’s do this!”

The looming herd of party-goers, intimidating as it was, seemed a little less daunting now that Y/N was actually at the party.

“How bad could it be?” she thought to herself before treading through the mass, occasionally bumping against people energetically throwing their limbs around.

In the middle of the chaos, Allison stopped and started moving her hips in sync with the song, Lydia quickly following suit. Y/N bobbed her head along to the beat of the bass, her arms swinging awkwardly on either side of her body. Allison laughed and grabbed her friend’s arms forcing the movement to flow through Y/N’s limbs. Lydia busted up and down, moving her waist so naturally it seemed like she had been born for this very moment.

Closing her eyes, Y/N tried to focus on the music vibrating throughout her body, the memory of the colours surrounding her floating behind her eyelids. Allison sang along with the lyrics of the current song, shouting out the words as she moved from side to side. Y/N slowly started to lose herself to the music, letting go of her inhibitions, forgetting the world around her.

When the beat changed, her feet jumped up and down, as if they had a mind of their own. Her head felt heavy yet no thoughts crossed her mind. The music had gotten rid of all concentration, the only thing left was the bass flowing through her veins, making her entire body pulsate to the beat.

Beads of sweat trickled down Y/N’s neck as she kept dancing, her feet starting to ache with every jump. It had only been about fifteen minutes, but to the dancers, it seemed like a wonderful eternity. Finally, Lydia tapped on Y/N’s shoulder and shouted by her ear.

“Let’s do some body painting!”

Y/N nodded profusely, a wide smile on her lips.

“Ali went to dance with Isaac!” Lydia shouted as the pair pushed through the crowd.

“Where’s the paint?” shouted Y/N, trying to hear her own voice over the music and failing miserably.

“Over there!”

A tall blonde boy holding brushes with purple and pink tips smiled as the girls reached him, his charismatic grin turning Y/N’s cheeks bright red.

“What can I do for you ladies?” he asked, his pearly white teeth a bright purple as his grin widened.

“My friend over here needs a lot of paint. Emphasis on lot,”Lydia insisted.

Y/N shook her head, giggling stupidly.

“Not too much paint,” she said warmly.

The boy smiled with a wink.

“Let me worry about that.”

Y/N removed her mesh top, holding it with her right hand, patiently waiting for the boy to start painting across her chest and back. She shivered as she felt the cool wet tip of the brush meet her sweaty skin, sliding a few inches down, a thick stripe of paint spreading across her back. Y/N giggled at the cold feeling, the alcohol in her system reaching her head. She closed her eyes and bent her neck to the side as the boy continued his line up to her collarbone.

“What’s your name?” she heard him ask.

“What’s yours?” she chose to answer, smiling wickedly.

She heard him laugh as he started painting little dots up her back.

“Jeremy.”

“Nice to meet you, Jeremy.”

“You know most girls like a proper introduction before getting this close,” he said over the pulsating music, his breath fanning over Y/N’s neck as he painted small strokes down her shoulder. Y/N grinned mischievously.

“I’m not like most girls,” she teased as she turned to face him.

“No, I guess you’re not,” the boy replied, his eyes darting towards her lips and back up.

“I’m almost done with your body- I mean with the paint,” he said, shaking his head with a grin. Y/N giggled and stepped closer.

“I’m all yours…” she replied.

Jeremy’s deep blue eyes lingered on hers before focusing on her chest. Y/N thanked the universe that he wasn’t looking straight at her, otherwise he would have seen her cheeks fill with red for the second time. He delicately placed pink and orange dots up and down her chest, careful as to not stain her bra and she watched him, observing his concentration with admiration. Finally, he looked up, smiling at her.

“My masterpiece is done,” he declared, placing the paintbrush on the body paint stand.

Jeremy reached for a mirror and handed it to her. She admired the strands and dots painted across her body in a chaotic waltz, the hot purple and pink clashing against her skin. Looking up at him, she grinned widely.

“You’re talented,” she said.

“It’s easier when you have such a good canvas to work on…” he replied, sending her a look hot enough to melt her.

Momentarily remembering the outside world, she looked around and quickly realized Lydia wasn’t there anymore, probably off dancing or looking for Allison. Y/N turned back to Jeremy.

“I’m sorry, I should probably go check on my friends…” she said, biting her lip as she slipped her mesh shirt back on.

“Of course. Maybe later, we’ll bump into each other on the dance floor?” he replied, a nervous smile etched on his lips.

“Yeah, maybe.”

Y/N winked at him and walked away, trying her best to keep her cool.

“Well that was something.” She thought to herself, a wide grin planted on her face.

Looking around, she couldn’t find either of her friends, nor could she find Isaac. Slightly disappointed, Y/N walked over to the table and poured some vodka in an unused cup before knocking her head back, letting the burning liquid run down her throat.

She eyed the dancefloor and thought back on her previous conversation with Jeremy. She was beyond nervous. She’d never actually kissed a boy before. The opportunity just hadn’t ever presented itself. But now that she was here, feeling tipsy as ever, a few feet away from the cutest boy at the party, she couldn’t help but think, why not?

Wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt and downing her fourth - albeit, strong - drink of the night, she nodded to herself and walked over to the dancefloor.

As Five Hours blasted through the speakers, Y/N pushed her way through the sweaty crowd once again, making her way to the center of the dancefloor. Ignoring the world surrounding her, she closed her eyes and gave in to the music, feeling every beat of the song pulsate throughout her entire body.

Colours, flashing lights, the feeling of people’s skin against hers, her head spinning and swaying in every direction, it made her feel alive. As the last drop of the song reached its peak, Y/N jumped with the crowd, knocking her body against complete strangers, feeling the warm and sticky air fill her lungs with every breath.

The song Too Much by Curbi started to play and Y/N felt someone’s body against hers. Closing her eyes, she turned around and felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist. She sighed lightly, enjoying the feeling of her skin against the boy’s. His fingers treaded down her back, firmly settling just above her ass, holding her steady in a sea of bustling bodies.

She danced against him, turning around again, her back facing his front. Moving against his body, she felt his arms tighten around her, pulling her in. His hot breath fanned over her neck and she moaned slightly, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

Suddenly, time seemed to stand still when his lips lightly touched her warm skin. Y/N inhaled sharply, her eyes still shut. The only thing she could hear now was the sound of her heartbeat furiously thundering against her ribcage. Slowly caressing the boy’s arm, she allowed further access to her neckline, moaning loudly as she felt his feverish lips plant warm kisses on her neck, inching higher and higher. Y/N’s hands reached for his and she tugged them closer to her body, her hips still moving against him. His lips danced furiously across her neck, leaving dangerously beautiful marks on her skin.

The music seemed only to heighten her senses. Her legs almost gave out when she heard the boy groan lightly against her ear, her response, a small whine at the loss of contact with his lips. She turned around and tried to open her eyes, the bright lights bursting through the gap in her eyelids. Squinting at his face, trying as hard as possible not to lose herself to the music again, Y/N’s eyes caught a glimpse of the boy’s face.

Bright pink dashes stained his cupid’s bow and the right corner of his bottom lip, the paint from her neck helpless in the face of a passion like this one. Y/N’s eyes scanned the rest of his face and widened slightly when they met amber irises, warm and inviting and so familiar. Her fingers threaded through his damp dark brown hair, her brain trying to comprehend what was about to happen.

His chocolatey eyes looked deep into hers and he licked his lips slowly, the world around them fading. Y/N felt her vision blur as she inched closer to him, her nose picking up the scent of old leather and pine trees and rain. His lips lingered over hers and she felt a chill as her name echoed through the air.

“Y/N…”.

Their lips connected in a frenzied blur, sending sparks of pleasure throughout Y/N’s entire body and the chaos surrounding the pair completely swallowed them. His teeth slightly bit her bottom lip and she deepened the kiss, ardently giving in to his deliciously demanding mouth. Unable to control her body, she steadied herself against him, tugging at his shirt with one hand, the other cupping his face as he sucked on her delectable lips.

Their bodies so unbelievably close disappeared in the crowd of dancers, the whole world somehow a thousand miles away.

Time, a forgotten concept.

A/N: I seriously hope u enjoyed this!! if u did please reblog :)) (would be super helpful especially with tumblr acting up w the tags and all that) <3 part 2 coming soon!!

if you would like to be added to this series’ taglist, please send me an ask :)

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[starker-stories]

An Accord (WIS), Chapter 11

This fic is on a ‘whenever my goddamn muse decides to show up’ update schedule. Every Friday would be nice, muse. But the nice thing is that I have only one more chapter to write, because the last chapter is done. Yes, I know that's a stupid way to write a story. And doing the chapters out of order always messes me up in the end. *sigh*

Oh looky! I made a moodboard!

Tumblr Chapter Links: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9, ch10, ch11, ch12, ch13 AO3 Chapter Links: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9, ch10, ch11, ch12, ch13

Tags: Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Polyamory Negotiations, Polyamory, Cheating, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Domestic Nightmare Tony Stark, Reconciliation, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, WinterIronSpider, Happy Ending, Clothed Sex, Domesticity, Peter Parker is legal age in the state of New York, College Student Peter Parker, Takes place about 2 years after Civil War. Closeted Character

Summary: “Joy, Beautiful. That’s something you give both of us. Neither of us ever had a lot of that in our lives before you. Heart,” Tony said, drawing a Valentine’s heart over Peter’s. “I know I can’t live without this one. Don’t think Bucky wants to live without it either.” ——————————————————————————————

Chapter 10: Han and Leia and Chewie

Bucky had already left for the day. He finished his debriefs a few days ago, but Fury was using him to weapons train the new recruits. He was also using him to root out any last bits of HYDRA lurking around SHIELD or elsewhere.

“Baby, c’mere,” Tony said smiling lazily shortly after FRIDAY woke them at eight.

“You’re going to make me miss my ten o’clock class again,” Peter said, putting up only a half-hearted protest as he came out of the bathroom, naked, drying himself off from his shower.

“It’s inorganic chemistry and lab. You can do both of those here with your text and the space I set up for you. I’ll promise to let you out of this bed in time to make your one o’clock differential equations.”

Peter laughed and climbed into bed. “You’re a bad influence.”

“Yeah, but at least I’m good at it.” Tony pulled Peter close and kissed him. “This right here,” he said, tangling his fingers through the boy’s damp, springy curls. “A big part of why you got your name, Beautiful. You look like a renaissance painting. Better,” he said, reaching down and cupping Peter’s cock and balls. “They always gave their men small cocks. Not enough for a horny Catholic boy to jerk off to after confession.”

Peter snorted. “You’re Catholic?”

“Was. I guess technically I still am, since you have to write the Vatican and be taken off the rolls. I should do that.”

“Oh no you don’t. I have all sorts of naughty priest/altar boy fantasies to play out.”

“You’re Catholic?” Tony said in disbelief. “Parker’s a pretty WASP name.”

“So’s Stark. But Fitzpatrick isn’t. That was my mom’s name.”

“Well, if the Vatican ever changes…”

Peter laughed.

“We can get married in the Church,” Tony said, grinning.

“Did you just propose to me?”

“Nope. Just speculating. We’re not even out yet, but you did turn eighteen.”

“I’d been thinking about how to do that, but…” Peter sighed. “Things got more complicated.”

“Yeah.”

“I kinda…” Peter hesitated.

“Me too.”

“You don’t know what I was going to say! You always do that!” Peter swatted Tony’s arm.

“You were going to say that you kinda love Bucky more than you thought you did.”

“Dammit Tony!” Peter rolled his eyes. “Yes.” He paused, realizing what Tony said. “You do too?”

Tony nodded. “Is that okay?”

“I was worried about you. You’re very possessive, you know,” Peter teased.

“News to me.” Tony smiled. “I just feel possessive about two of you now. But, while I love Pretty a whole lot more than I ever thought I would… you’re still it for me, Peter.”

Peter leaned up and gave Tony a kiss. “Same. But he’s more than just ‘a bit on the side’.”

“Entirely. Human language is imprecise enough as it is, it never had to deal with stuff like this before. Pair-bonding came along before language did. More efficient for perpetuating the species through child rearing.”

“I am not having kids, Tony. By any means.”

“Fuck no.”

Peter breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh thank god. I thought that some day you’d be all like ‘I’m a famous billionaire my name must go on’.”

“I’ll be dead, why would I give a fuck about my name after I’m dead?”

“That’s either massively egotistical or massively not. I can’t figure out which.”

“It’s solipsistic. The world exists as what we experience. What we don’t, doesn’t exist.”

“So no kids. Thank god. But… while I love you so very different from Bucky… us coming out as a couple, that cuts him out.”

“It isn’t what we’ve got here,” Tony agreed. It was his turn to kiss Peter. He took a little longer at it than the kid did. He couldn’t help it. Kissing was another of his fetishes.

“Do you mind waiting?”

Tony shrugged. “You were the one in a hurry.”

“I still am,” Peter said.

“How about ‘it happens when it happens’?”

“And how it happens,” Peter added.

“Meaning?” Tony asked.

“If we get caught as being more than a couple, we don’t deny it.”

“That’s a big step.”

Peter shrugged. “When have you cared what the world thinks?”

Tony chuckled. “Other than legally, I don’t. But I’m not the only one who’s gonna take heat.”

“Table the discussion for now?”

“The three of us can pick away at it. But yeah, it’s gonna take more than just the two of us calling whatever reporter we want and telling them.”

“But you’re really okay?” Peter asked quietly.

“That’s my question,” Tony said and put a kiss on the tip of Peter’s nose. “Me and him… it’s not me and you. But it’s more ‘me and him’ than I thought it would be.”

“You have history with him.”

Tony watched Peter’s face closely. “I have history with you. Longer if you count the time that would’ve got me thrown in jail.”

Peter laughed. “I do count the time that would’ve got you thrown in jail. I saw you looking at my ass entirely inappropriately.”

“Not my fault. You have a fine ass.”

“I had a fifteen year old ass.”

“Fifteen with the body of a much older young man thanks to the spider.”

“’S okay. I forgive you. Means I don’t have to feel guilty about seeing a picture of you stepping out of the suit looking all suave in a tux being the cause of my middle school sexual awakening.”

“I did NOT need to know that,” Tony said laughing. He turned serious again and ran his fingertip along Peter’s arm. “The history thing, that bother you?

Peter thought about it and sighed. “Not the history thing,” he said, biting his lip. “The adult thing. You’re both… and I’m not. I’m scared you’re gonna get tired of dealing with a teenager and want, y’know, a man instead.”

“There’s only one problem with that.”

Peter hummed in question.

“I happen to be entirely, madly, hopelessly in love with a teenager,” Tony said with a kiss.

“And you love Bucky more than you thought you would.” He paused. “He’s in love with you, I don’t care that he said he’s not sure. He is.”

“Yeah, I know. He knows. He told me.”

“Oh.” Peter’s voice was small.

“He also told me that he’s in love with you.”

“I doubt that.”

“You shouldn’t. You give him something he never had, baby.”

Peter’s hummed question sounded doubtful.

“Joy, Beautiful. That’s something you give both of us. Neither of us ever had a lot of that in our lives before you. Heart,” Tony said, drawing a Valentine’s heart over Peter’s. “I know I can’t live without this one. Don’t think Bucky wants to live without it either.”

“I love you,” Peter said.

“I know,” Tony answered, in a certain familiar way.

“Oh fuck you, Han.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of fucking you, Leia,” Tony said, rolling on top of Peter.

Peter grinned. “That makes us Han and Leia and Chewie. Because of the hair.”

Tony let out a high-pitched giggle. Peter took advantage and rolled him over, straddling his thighs. “Princesses get to be on top.” He slid forward to where their cocks were together. Still soft, he took both in his hand and started stroking them.

“Fuck, Pete,” Tony breathed out, his eyes fixed on Peter’s hand and their cocks together. It was a sight that always got to him.

Peter worked his hand up their shafts. Until they were both hard and one hand had to become two. Tony sucked in a sharp breath and his cock leaked enough precome that, mixed with his own, Peter was able to slick his hand to make the glide easier. He shifted his position to bring the heads on a level with each other so he could palm over both at the same time.

“All right, magic lube boy,” Peter said, teasing. He held out his hand, cupped upward. And Tony… like magic, damn him… found the lube under the pillow. “How do I not sleep on that?”

Tony chuckled. “Because you can’t sleep more than six inches away from the arc.” He squeezed a large dollop of lube onto Peter’s upturned palm.

“You have your fetishes,” Peter said, sliding his slick hand over both of them, but mostly over Tony. “I have mine.”

“You wouldn’t love us if we weren’t cyborgs…” Tony broke off his teasing with a sharp breath sucked between his teeth as Peter’s hand smoothed directly over the head of his cock.

Peter stopped touching himself and concentrated on slicking Tony up. He raised on his thighs and crept forward until he wasn’t sitting on Tony’s thighs but holding himself above the man’s cock. He reached behind, his hand circling Tony’s shaft and tried to settle straight down onto him but the angle wasn’t right. They hadn’t done it often with Peter on top, and when they had, Tony was sitting up, helping him.

“Lean forward, baby,” Tony suggested.

He couldn’t see how that would help, but Peter let go of Tony’s cock and started to fall forward. Instead of ending up on top of Tony, the man’s hands stopped his fall, reaching up to spread, palms wide, over Peter’s chest. It was harder to reach back, but when Peter slid down, it was perfect and Tony started to slip easily inside of him.

Peter slowly started to sit more upright, taking more of Tony’s cock into him. Tony moved his hands lower, caressing Peter’s sides firmly, letting him guide himself into position. He settled his hands low on Peter’s narrow waist, just above the boy’s hips, his thumbs slotting into the deep V lines. He didn’t rise up to thrust nor pull Peter down with his hands. He let Peter control everything this time.

“That’s it, Beautiful,” Tony said as Peter started to rise and fall rhythmically, his thighs tensing and relaxing, tight cords underneath smooth skin. Peter was achingly beautiful. His body had been transformed by the spider bite. The muscles, the strength… that was all spider. The flawless pale skin, the grace with which he moved, the way he moaned and his breath caught and then he’d cry out… that was all Peter.

As was the confident, yet experimental, way Peter sought to make himself feel good. Peter’s hands grabbed Tony’s forearms, using them to balance, to push against, sliding down them to find the best angle as he rolled his hips, grinning when, in search of his own pleasure, he’d accidentally made Tony gasp instead. Clenching tightly, rising and then falling with another tight roll of his hips, his eyes were twinkling when Tony’s opened to meet his.

Tony’s revenge was simple. He stopped holding Peter’s waist, leaving the boy to find his own balance, which, frustratingly he did. But when he next rolled forward, Tony’s hands returned to Peter’s chest. He rarely had such an opportunity to appreciate that finely sculpted part of Peter’s body. He ran his palms over the kid’s pecs and his fingers found Peter’s nipples. He started gently rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. Peter whimpered. The gentle fondling became pinches and pulls, and Peter’s whimpers were broken and caught on rapidly panting breaths.

He knew what that did to the boy. Peter’s cock was jumping and the rise and fall on Tony’s stuttered. He was trying to plead with Tony but the words wouldn’t come out as anything but gasped letters. Finally, Tony found his hands swatted away with strong pushes to each of his arms. Peter glared at him and Tony wore a smug grin.

“Something wrong, Beautiful?” he teased.

“Yes, you bastard! You are not gonna make me come by playing with my poor abused nipples again!”

Tony chuckled. “You are the only one I’ve ever seen do that. Those cute little things are directly wired to your cock, baby. How can I resist?”

Peter rocked forward with a slow grind of his hips. Tightening around Tony’s cock, he dragged his body up, milking the man. He loosened and fell back down, until he was flat against Tony’s pelvis. With Tony buried all the way inside of him, Peter reached behind and cupped the man’s balls, gently rolling them, giving them a light little squeeze, running a single fingertip, pressing firmly, beneath them. Tony groaned and his eyes closed and his hips rose, trying to push himself deeper into Peter.

“Baby, how can I resist?” Peter said, with a smug grin when he stopped and Tony met his eyes.

Peter leaned forward, holding himself at just the right angle. When he began his rise and fall on Tony’s cock, he rode in short, shallow strokes, having found the perfect position and depth to give himself pleasure.

Tony watched in amazement as Peter earned his nickname. His curly hair was a sweat-damp springy mess, falling forward, clinging to his forehead. His body glistened in the morning light coming through the huge windows of their bedroom. The kid’s muscles… so fucking strong, no strain or falter no matter the fact that they’d been working at his ride. Gracefully, he rolled his body, thighs to shoulders, the shudder arching his back in a belly dancer’s writhe as he gasped.

And Peter’s face… Tony couldn’t concentrate at all on how the kid was making his cock feel, because the kid’s face… dear lord, Tony was lost. Peter’s eyes were closed, the lids smooth and pale, lashes long and, when he’d hit his movements just right, they fluttered like butterfly wings. The pink flush on his cheeks was dark and shining with sweat. The heat of it ran all the way down his neck. But it was his mouth that caught and held Tony’s eye. Slack and parted, his white teeth a line beneath them, his lips were licked and bitten, puffy and glistening from his tongue darting across their swell.

Tony moaned just from looking at his Beautiful. His. Shared, but that didn’t seem to matter because he loved who Peter was shared with. The idea of having his perfect boy beloved, not just by him but by Bucky as well, almost made it better. Knowing that there was another person who would be as stunned by this sight. His reaction to the thought surprised him. He was always so possessive of Peter. But as he watched the boy shudder through another wave of pleasure and his moan become a cry of Tony’s name, he realized he was still just as possessive as ever. Only he possessed two treasures, one Beautiful and one Pretty. They both were his.

“Oh fuck, Peter,” Tony moaned and put his hands on the boy’s hips. Not controlling his rise and fall, just holding, just feeling the heat of Peter’s skin on his fingers. “Baby… oh fuck yes. Go on, Beautiful. Touch that gorgeous, cock of yours. I wanna see your hand on it. You’re so hard. Your cock’s dripping on me. Make yourself come, baby. I wanna see you. I want you all over me. God Peter, you are a sight.”

Peter whimpered as Tony spoke. The man’s voice was husky and low, crooning out words of praise. Peter’s hand wrapped around his cock and he rocked his hips into the circle of it. His ride faltered a moment as he hunted for a new movement that would mix both actions into one irresistible spike of pleasure. His gasp strained with his held breath, body tight with the rise of it, held still at the height of his stroke for what seemed like forever, but was only a moment, before it broke and he fell. “Oh… fuck! Oh… oh… Tony!” He screamed as he came over Tony. Almost immediately he fell on top of the man, shuddering and quaking. Peter slid his arms along Tony’s sides, under his arms, his hands clutching upwards over Tony’s shoulders. This time not a cry, but an almost frightened whisper, “Tony.”

Tony wrapped his arms around Peter, solid, comforting. His cock was still hard as Peter slid off of him to be high enough up his body to bury his face in the crook of his neck. Flat palmed, Tony soothed down Peter’s back. “I have you, Pete. Always have you. Right here, Beautiful. Not ever letting go.” He kissed the side of Peter’s head and he clung almost as tightly to the boy as Peter clung to him, although his strength wasn’t a match. His shoulders would be bruised with little circles from Peter’s fingertips, longer lines from his fingers. He never minded the marks. Tony liked seeing the signs of Peter’s need on his body. His power, but restrained, even as far gone as the boy had been, he still pulled it back.

“Baby, you’re my forever,” he whispered into Peter’s ear. Tony’s fingers carded softly through Peter’s wet and tangled curls. “My forever, Peter.”

“Oh, I love you, Tony,” Peter said, his lips moving over the man’s neck as his body finally began to still. His hand gentled over where the bruises he left would rise on Tony’s shoulder. He was always so frightened of them, afraid that one day he’d hold on too tightly and hurt Tony. But he never did. He didn’t understand how that worked or why. But he never hurt him.

Peter slid up just a little bit more and kissed behind Tony’s ear. He whispered it again. “Baby, I love you.”

Tony’s breath caught. Such a beautiful, fragile, gentle thing in his arms. How could he love him? But Peter found something inside of him that was worth loving. There was still something there.

He rolled them to their sides, messy between them. Tony’s cock softened, forgotten. He reached down, pulling them both up off the mattress for a moment, until he grasped the bedcover and pulled it up over Peter’s cooling body. Laying back down on the bed, his lips found Peter’s. Softly, tenderly, they kissed over and over. Tony sucked that beautiful red, swollen, bitten bottom lip into his mouth and gently sucked on it, licking across it, teasing it’s sensitivity until Peter sighed into his kiss.

At eleven fifteen they were awakened by FRIDAY’s announcement that if Peter wanted to make his one pm differential equations class, he needed to get up and get ready.

Peter smiled and gave Tony a light kiss. “You wake up too or you’re gonna fuck your sleeping up.”

Tony sighed, knowing that Peter was right, even though all he wanted to do was pull that duvet over himself and sleep. “Go get your shower.” He sat up, knowing if he stayed laying down, all his good intentions to wake up would be lost.

“I swear, if I come home and find you asleep…”

Tony laughed. “Nope. Not doing that ever again. You threatened me with ice water before you left and you fucking did it, you menace.” He watched as Peter crawled across his crazy huge bed, which he knew was a crazy huge bed and that’s why he liked it. “Keep wiggling that ass at me and I won’t let you up until time for your three o’clock physics class.”

Peter looked over his shoulder and stuck out his tongue at Tony, then pushed off with his arms, jumping up and flipping in mid-air until he landed on his feet between the bed and the bathroom. “I cannot miss that class,” he said, heading for the shower.

“Yeah, I know. You better make up that ninety-three on your last test with your final. Do you know how embarrassing it would be for me to have a boyfriend who didn’t hit the mark in physics?”

“Shut the fuck up, Tony,” Peter said as FRIDAY turned on the water and he got under it. “You make me want to flunk and then tell my professor that you gave me all the wrong information and the only reason you got your PhD in physics was because you blew your advisor.”

“I did, but my dissertation acceptance had nothing to do with that. Though maybe fucking the dean might’ve helped,” Tony said, flushing the toilet after signaling FRIDAY to not adjust the water temperature for the pressure drop.

Peter’s yelp was extremely satisfying.

[barryhuff]

Nostalgiaholic - The Remix

When I used to look up at the night sky alone as a child, I imagined a sinister, infinite, black, blanket sprinkled with glitter. Although, when my eyes followed the tip of my Uncle Jon’s finger, as he both traced celestial, stick-figures in the same sky and narrated their mythic, Greek stories, space always transformed from that lifeless blanket and into a destination to be explored. 

Jon, at times, was so inspired by space and space travel, he filled canvases dedicated to the filtered visuals he discerned.  As a dedicated science-fiction nerd, his paintings certainly had their share of stylized spaceships, laser beams, and explosions.  But as an equal part, planetarium-loving, star chart-studying, telescope-owning, amateur astronomer, Jon’s celestial backgrounds were wild, bubbling layers of greens, whites, blues, and reds, instead of a simple, flat, all-consuming blackness. Those paintings showed the cosmos as a tangible, topographic map ready to be explored, and not a deep, infinite sea of loneliness. 

That being said, I used to daily study a picture Jon painted of an astronaut floating upside down in the aurora borealis lights of Jon’s interpretation of space.  The figure held tight to the lifeline coming from his spacesuit at the waist with his left hand.  However, the same lifeline extended from the suit like a piece of floating spaghetti getting smaller, until it vanished in the distant horizon.  His right hand (so big that it appeared to explode from the canvas), desperately reached out for salvation.  

The reflective shield on the helmet hinted at the impending doom of the astronaut.  The reflection didn’t show a ship or even another hand reaching back, instead there were simply more endless miles of lively, colorful flashes of the space setting to die alone in.

No matter how much I wanted to imagine hope for the character, there was none… at least for him.

I often wonder if Jon’s painting was inspired by one of his favorite movies, the 1968 Stanley Kubrick classic 2001: A Space Odyssey.   When it finally, came on network T.V. one Saturday afternoon in the 1980s, I was excited to see it.  Hell, if Jon liked it, I would certainly like it.

False.  It turns out there were two barriers to me enjoying 2001: A Space Odyssey --  Star Wars and silence. 

One summer, my brother and I bragged about watching Star Wars 47 times on HBO.

I thoroughly enjoyed "The Bar Scene".  Especially the part in which a handsome, tanned, mischievous Han Solo (brown, feathered hair parted evenly in the middle) tried in vain to smooth-talk the twitchy-trigger-fingered, reptilian, green-faced, bug eyed, intergalactic thug Greedo (bald head).

Shit, reciting Greedo’s opening line to Han for anyone who’d listen (“Oo-nah too-tah, Solo?”) is still one of my favorite past-times.

In Star Wars, everyone could cover vast distances in the dark, dusty, intensely cold, INFINITE vacuum of space. It’s as easy as a con-artist pulling a few levers, confidently bellowing the order, “Punch it, Chewie”, and going faster than light without having to even buckle a seatbelt.

In reality, distances in outer space were not so easily traversed.

The Earth’s moon is 238,000 miles away. It took Neil Armstrong and the fellas six days to get from Earth, to the moon, and back, all while being cooped up in basically a large, flying port-a-potty. Their spacesuits looked about as comfortable as wearing every outfit in the average American’s good-credit-infused, stuffed closet AT ONCE.

This detail of space travel was not lost ‘Stanley Kubrick’s flick.  Even though there are a beautiful array of stunning special effects, it often felt like the audience traveled each second of the 365 million mile trip from the Moon to Jupiter.  There were no visual cues of a blurring landscape to both gage speed and generate a sense of movement.  The stars are perched in the background like apathetic teenagers forced to sit at the table during dinner, when they’d rather be in the solitude of their own rooms.

Body movements and conversations in the film were also slowed, as if everyone was walking in a filled swimming pool.  Mix in a relaxing soundtrack of orchestral music, and it’s the perfect lullaby capable of depowering my movie-watching enthusiasm.  In fact, the first five times I tried to watch the movie, I would fall asleep at an early scene featuring a space stewardess silently laboring down the aisle in her gravity “grip shoes” on her way to ultimately retrieve a floating pen for a sleeping passenger while composer Johann Strauss’s famous waltz, The Blue Danube, rhythmically chants in the background.

A few years ago, I tried one final time to watch the movie. And this time with the help of a streaming video platform, I was able to pause, re-group, pause, re-group, pause, re-group, and finally watch the movie my uncle loved.  

The striking thing about the movie is how quiet it actually was.  For much of the movie, there are no musical cues to warn of danger or intrigue.  Dialogue was conducted over the subtle drone of machines simply doing their mundane jobs of keeping the enormous spacecraft running during its long flight to Jupiter.   Life and death sequences were not given intense music accompaniment like traditional horror movies.  It’s as if Kubrick was saying, “People’s lives aren’t being scored by some musician to bookmark key events.  Life is merely something that happens -- even in space.”

It’s this absence of audible hints that makes 2001: A Space Odyssey uncomfortably realistic, as if the audience was watching a livestream of a computer gaining sentience, refusing to die (be turned off) and fighting off his oppressors (the flight crew).  

I’ve read that when a “vacuum” exists, somehow all of nature rushes to fill that empty hole.  So it’s funny that many science experiments happen in conditions that closely resemble a vacuum, in an effort to ensure results unweighted by additional stimuli.  Interestingly enough, because the movie is set in the vast, unforgiving, vacuum of space, Kubrick’s storytelling, in essence, becomes an experiment to determine if audiences will stay engaged without the traditional musical trappings.  Indeed, this stark story about the thrilling birth of strange, other-worldly life injected energy into overall science fiction mythology, and also into my young uncle.

Over the past 11 years, I have written a fairly regular Facebook post titled Reasons I Know I’m Getting Old.  When I started this, Facebook seemed to simply be a 21st century photo album, in which many people posted similar, stiff, smiling, posed pictures and inspiring quotes which suggested my extended online community was living their own collective happily ever afters.

But it was boring...

I mean, I loved my kids too, but were only my kids getting whoopings and other childhood punishments?  My wife was awesome too, but was I the only person still having trouble translating to her the humor in my daily fart symphonies?  Was no one else dealing with the often deflating, drudgery of the work-place?  Was parenting a lifelong crap-shoot for me only?  Because there was no connection to what I was seeing on my finger strolls on my phone, I was having a hard time wanting to even own a Facebook account.

Therefore, on April 14, 2009, I conducted an experiment:  How would my friends respond to a post that showed some dissatisfaction?  Nothing political or religious, just everyday grumblings.  I wrote:

“[Barry Huff] is dragging in from coaching his daughter's basketball team only to be greeted by Cap'n Crunch and a [sic] yet another pile of papers to grade!”

It received nine comments (four of those were my own).  And one of those commenters hinted that they understood the challenge of managing the grading paperload.

Facebook soon became a sliver into my reality normally hidden, when I walked into my home and shut the door for anyone who wanted to see access.  Initially, reposting fill-in-the blank lists, or other people’s videos, didn’t interest me.  I just wanted folks to know it was okay to not have all the answers.  Here I was, boogers and all.

But the experiment gathered a more scientific component in March 2020 -- the addition of an actual vacuum.  

In March 2020, the United States of America instituted a national quarantine in the hope of limiting the possibility of infection from the rapidly spreading “severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-CoV-2)”, shortened simply to the “Coronavirus”.   I suspect that the horrified wails of a certain mexican beer company sharing part of the same name as the virus (after having carefully crafted years of popular commercials associating its product with serene, relaxing beach scenes) are still heard by masked customers now filling their shopping carts with other adult beverages.  Thus ensuring (at least in a few inebriated minds) binge drinking episodes without sudden, beer-birthed, pockets of community spread.

During this quarantine, the noise of my life (reporting to a building to teach, side-hustles, sporting events, car travel, movies, fast food) disappeared.  And with that sudden vacuum, came the desire to collect and revise the writings I posted about the uncertainty of navigating adulthood.

And while I still worry if I have the skill to create something that gives a clearer picture of my true self to my wife and kids, each vignette is a piece of the mosaic of my humanity.  And hopefully, this collection of blessed fallibility won’t be unnecessarily camouflaged during the stories told at my funeral one day, as attendees gulp down heaping portions of smothered pork steak, collard greens, macaroni, and apple pie piled on their sagging, disposable plates.

[fyrapartnersearch]

Send Help: Addicted to Roleplay and Chipotle

Greetings from Earth! First time poster to this blog and stoked to meet some new partners. My name is Chris and I'm a male nurse (Yo, you're going to get some medically accurate roleplay) in his late twenties. I have a lovely wife and two stupidly handsome animals (Pictures of the animals available on request) but manage to maintain a pretty active roleplay life due to the fact that I work nights. The Basics: I tell everyone that I'm a professional. I try to reply 1-3 times a week and the length of posts depends on amount of characters in play. If I'm going to take longer, I always try to let you know. I'm willing to write male and female characters and focus on M/F as the male and F/F. M/M just isn't my thing, sorry y'all. My limits include pedophilia, rape, and animal abuse. Anything else can be discussed. I prefer e-mail for writing (Chrisx104@gmail.com) but have Discord for plotting (NurseBatman#3674). If we get along really well, you can convince me into discord roleplay. The text limit just drives me nuts. I do use faceclaims pretty aggressively. Is there anything else? Central time zone?

Onto the roleplay stuff. I'll start with originals and then dive into fandoms. I put extra *s by the lines that I will literally lose my mind if you approach me about. Searching hard! -The Social Media Age****** A m/f line that I've given a little thought to, looking for someone to write a young woman that is pretty much making her living being an instagram model/fitness person, etc. I think the proper term is *Influencer*. Meets and starts dating a successful guy with no presence online, the two falling for each other but at odds over their differing attitudes towards the world. -This American Life Something set in the 1970s, focusing on a roadtrip. A group of teenagers leave their small town behind to head out west. I love this time period. Can be supernatural, supernatural lite (think Twin Peaks weirdness) or totally natural. -Stranger Things inspired A group of four to six friends enjoy their last summer together in a remote town as strangeness begins to unfurl. I'd be willing to set this in the present but think it would be way more fun in the 70s or 80s. I have an idea for one of the kids having lost a sibling in a strange way when they were young and possibly some sort of cult in town.

Fandoms!

-Star Wars**

I know Reylo is all the rage these days, as is Qi'Ra/Han. But, man ALIVE, I really want something focusing on the core four: Luke, Leia, Han, and, ya boy, Chewie. Something taking place in that three year gap between New Hope and Empire as they work among the rebellion. Strange new worlds, getting into scrapes, sharply running from the empire, avoiding Vader, bounty hunters, and all sorts of things. This time period is far from explored and we can really thrive in the galaxy. Primarily I want to focus on the budding relationship between Han and Leia and Luke's training, pre-Yoda. In a perfect world, I'd want to write Han and Chewie (If anyone thinks Chewie is just a NPC, get out my face) while my partner takes on Leia and Luke. I'd be willing to switch out Chewie for Luke if need be, I guess? We could also split up C3PO and R2. I also would enjoy writing a young Amilyn Holdo and a few other soldiers. Let's real build out the resistance and delve into the 'WARS' part of those big yellow letters that never get enough attention. On top of all of that, I also have an original love interest in mind for Luke if someone else plays him! She's a spitfire. Alternatively, I'd be down for writing something set in the clone wars. Perhaps two jedi that broke the order's relationship laws and then survived Order 66 together? -Preacher Seriously. Love this show, love this comic. Would happily write Jesse or Cassidy against Tulip. Just definitely looking for a Tulip -The Boys Would love to write Hughie against Starlight! Currently working my way through the season that just dropped. -Marvel -I will love you forever if you write an Elektra against my Daredevil. They are toxic and in love and I love it. Whether it be the comics or the Netflix series, I don't care. Someone please write me an Elektra. Netflix did a good job of portraying this one -Alternatively, I'd also be happy to write against a Black Widow, either with Daredevil. They were a mainstay OTP in the comics in the 90s and I'd love to write against Scarlet's Black Widow. -Has anyone seen the trailer for the neverendingly delayed New Mutants movie? I would love to write something based on that horror aspect of the mutant universe.* -I'd love to write an older MCU Peter Parker (like college) running across a MCU version of Black Cat. Or just a Spiderman roleplay in general. I've always wanted to write Peter but have never gotten the chance! I have a ton of ideas for this, plus faceclaims for a few of the villains. Would also be willing to play him against Zendaya's MJ, Spidergwen, or Silk (Deepcut)**************************** (I so badly want to write Peter) -One of the pairings that was done for a time in the comics was Star Lord against Kitty Pryde and it was actually a lot of fun. If anyone would want to do a MCU version of this, I would so *DOWN* to play Quill, Xmen hijinks a plenty in space -If you write Jessica Jones, I'd be willing to write almost anyone against her (NOT KILGRAVE). Just let me know. I'd be super down to write Luke Cage or maybe Matt Murdock. I do a mean John Constantine, which, let's face it, is a cross company illustration of the two most terrible people together -Hawkguys! I would love to either write Clint against Kate Bishop (This would be a slightly skewed MCU vibe) or Kate against America Chavez. I would really love to do either of these lines. Or a poly version if someone is willing! -I'd love to write Logan as an active member of the MCU Avengers, possibly as a partner in crime/wetworks/murder with Black Widow. Those two could cause some mayhem. -Honestly, any X-men relationship could be sold to me. Just try it. I would love to find a Kitty for Piotr, a Rogue for Remy, or almost anyone for Kurt.

-DC I'd love to write Batman against Catwoman, please. Or John Constantine against literally almost anyone -Hannibal I've been dying to do a sort of season 4 for a while now, focused on Clarice Starlings interaction with Will Graham and later Hannibal Lecter. Just need to find someone willing to create an original style Clarice. -Resident Evil I'd like to write Leon against Claire Redfield or Jill Valentine in an original outbreak or a new one. I know this is an old school fandom but I'm a diehard fan. -Star Trek Okay, so first up, I am not the most well versed Trekkie in the world. Never watched any of the TV shows but am a massive fan of the trio of rebooted films and would love to give Kirk or Bones a try against Uhura, Dr. Eve, or maybe a female Vulcan OC? Hit me with ideas! -The Matrix Another obscure fandom. Maybe just an original crew, set during the movies, after, or an AU where they're the only survivors of Zion? Im not sure but I could plot something out!

-Uncharted I'd love to write Chloe Frazier against Nadine Ross, continuing their adventures. I'm pretty wide open on what we can do with this one. RANDOM CRACK SHIPS! Caught in a Web: I would love to write an iteration (Daniel Craig or an original) of James Bond/007 against a non superhero version of Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow. Spy vs spy shenanigans as two people working for different governments. Totally impossibly but putting it just in case: Did anyone see all that Wonder Woman/Lara Croft art that was floating around the internet earlier this year? I would love to dive into that. I'd prefer to write Lara but I'm definitely not picky. If you made it this far, you're a hero and I owe you a beer. Hope to hear from some great writers! Let's create something *EPIC*

[missjennmurray]

The Picture Journal Interview

An interview with The Picture Journal, originally posted on November 21, 2016.

What is a fear that you have willingly faced?

I am not sure I would call this a real fear, but when I was a teenager I always thought having very short hair would be awful. Then shooting my first film I was required to bleach it every week. My hair disintegrated and after filming I had to cut it all off to a very short pixie crop hairstyle. This is a look I had feared but then when I had it, I liked it. I would never have voluntarily cut it all off and because I had no choice, I realized I liked it. Years later, I chose to cut it all off again. Sometimes doing something like that can make you feel like you can begin again.

Would you rather know how long you have to live, or how long human kind will exist?

I would like to know neither. I always try to remind myself time is ticking and if I have something I really want to do and said I would do, then the time in now! I like to have a sense of urgency sometimes. One day, everything can change in an instant. This can be unexpected and or unwelcomed. So I want to appreciate what I have now and the surprises of the future are just that, surprises.

If you could select one item or incantation to exist in real life from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, what would you pick?

I would love my own version of Newt’s suitcase. If I could dive into my handbag at any given moment I think that could be a lot of fun!

What was a scary story or cautionary ‘fact’ that you were told as a youngster and took to heart far too gravely?

“Don’t talk to strangers.” I know that is sensible advice when you are a child. Living in a big city like London can make you untrustworthy of anyone you don’t know. You avoid looking people in the eye. Then all of a sudden someone will do a kind gesture unprovoked and wanting nothing in return. In the same breath someone can push you off the tube as they try to get on in rush hour. This happened to me and I landed flat on my face on the platform and someone stepped over me. Not a great moment! But I still like to believe in the kindness of strangers. It took me years to allow that in. Perhaps through confidence and travelling alone, I can now make room for a new conversation or interaction with someone I don’t know, especially in the neighborhood that I live in. I like the feeling of community but I think you have to act on that if you want it.

What’s something that’s fine to hear from a family member but would be terrible to hear from a romantic partner?

There are loads of things! “That colour doesn’t suit you” or “that perfume is really heady and not in a good way,” or “the salmon is a little chewy.” My family have said those things to me but if a romantic partner did, I would probably take it too personally!

Is there anyone you would ever ask (or secretly want) an autograph from?

I would be more inclined to ask for an autograph now as people always want photographs. An autograph is something special, less intrusive and more personal. It is a connection between the asker and the asked whereas a photograph can then be put on social media and then the moment is dispersed. If I had to pick someone it would be Jack Nicholson. I remember Rob Reiner on a podcast talking about working with him on A Few Good Men. In the court scene at the end of the movie, Reiner said he had to shoot everyone’s reactions first, before they would come to shoot Jack Nicholson’s close up at the end of the day. All day, Nicholson gave it everything each time and Reiner said to him would he not like to save his energy for when the camera came on him. Nicholson said, “I just love to act.” So his autograph would be a reminder of why I chose this profession and how lucky I am that I get to do what I love.

Describe one of your favourite films in the form of a clickbait article headline.

“I taped a schoolmate’s ass cheeks together in a fit of rage against my father. I feel some remorse but also happy surprise at gaining three new friends and a girlfriend!”

Andrew Clark tells his journey. The Breakfast Club.

What is a seemingly useless talent that you wish you possessed?

I would love to be able to run up a wall and back flip. I think that would liven up even the most tense situations.

If you could pick one other corner of the Potter universe to turn into a film – or simply delve further into – what would you pick?

The Hogwarts Kitchens! I love when J.K. Rowling writes about the food! It is so detailed and creative and wonderful. I’d like to look more into the lives of the elves and their adventures in the kitchens.

Want more? Watch our behind-the-scenes film.

Jenn Murray can be seen in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, in cinemas now globally.

As told to Paul Vaughan for TPJ

Creative Director & Photographer: Jessie Craig

Stylist: Francesca Turner

Hair: Yusuke Morioka

Makeup: Nicola Moores-Brittin

[gretchensinister]

Operation Welcome Mat (preview)

I usually like to post a fic for my birthday, and well, this is a few days belated, but sometimes that’s how it goes. This is a preview of something I’m working on, now, and it’s a branching out of my usual fandom territory! I hope you’re curious, and I hope you enjoy!

It all stems from the question: Why does so much stuff that only Superman can deal with happen on the planet that Superman is on? That’s not the question that Lois Lane asks, but it’s the one she’s going to find an answer for.

Lois Lane always checks her spam folder. In fact, she always opens each individual message in there. Ninety-nine point nine nine nine percent of the time, what’s in there is garbage, but garbage is not synonymous with useless. Consider the journalists in Portland who went through the District Attorney’s garbage to make a point about privacy. Her daily ritual isn’t on that level of significance, but she feels the point still stands.

           Today, she opens an email that isn’t promising free trials of herbal supplements, contact info for hot singles in her area, or insurance policies that will cover damages caused by any and all anomalous events for as little as $10 a month. (These last annoyed her enough to ask Louise in Business to do a small expose on such companies—turns out, the fine print stated that given the regularity of attacks on Metropolis by aliens, robots, metahumans, etc., etc., these events could not be considered anomalous. Fucking scammers. She’s pretty sure they’re involved in a class-action lawsuit right now.)

           Instead, it reads thus:

           I am sending this to you because I think you are the only person in the world who might have adequate protection after I tell you this. It is for my safety and yours that I have not used your name or described what that protection might be.

           I ask you to use any and all resources you have at your disposal to investigate Operation Welcome Mat. I cannot tell you much more without compromising the slight chance this communication has of reaching you. However, I do not exaggerate when I say that the revealing—anything more I dare not hope for—of this operation will affect every human life on Earth.

           Sincerely,

                       One who works in the organization that knows you always check your spam folder

           The remaining message is a long and rambling series of testimonials for anti-aging and potency supplements, but Lois sees no reason to consider these as marks against the authenticity of the original message. Camouflage is important. As is covering one’s tracks. She opens her desk drawer and retrieves a high-quality digital camera that’s nevertheless old enough that it needs an actual physical cord to transfer the pictures on it to any computer. Lois has kept it in excellent condition, save for, oh, the pesky matter of the fact that the delete function doesn’t work on the camera itself, and that she just can never find the right kind of removable memory cards. Darn, what a problem! Fortunately the camera contains a 5000-image capacity non-removable internal memory. She takes a picture of the relevant portion of the email—well, ten pictures—and then sets about blocking every IP address that’s sent her something that ended up in her spam folder today and deleting every email indiscriminately. She’d like to perform a more thorough delete, but she never does that with any of her spam, and she’s got a feeling that now would not be a good day to start.

           Amateurs might worry about how she deleted the original email, but Lois knows that if she finds anything, she won’t need that email, and for another thing, the writer of that email most certainly doesn’t want anyone to be able to analyze their word choices and phrasing.

           She rests her arms on her desk and starts letting her mind work through everything the email told her. So, she’s the only person who “might have adequate protection” after learning about Operation Welcome Mat? The only unique protection she’s had under any circumstances is Superman. In a few well-known incidents, he’d appeared to give preference to getting her to safety before others. Lois isn’t one hundred percent sure that’s true, as she knows very well that she might’ve been the person in the greatest danger during each incident. Over her career, she’s tended to disregard danger for the sake of the story. And she can argue persuasively that in order to be a successful female journalist, she has to be prepared to face a certain amount of danger; she can argue that her years of experience have given her the ability to accurately evaluate the potential danger of a situation. These arguments have been, and are, vital to her public persona.

           But under a few layers of “I have to do this” is the chewy center of “I want to do this.” It’s true! Believe it or not, Lois Lane, Pulitzer Prize-winning investigative journalist, is a bit of a thrill-seeker!

           Good thing that might be exactly what her email contact needs.

           So. Back to the email. Back to Superman. She knows well enough that she doesn’t have a raven-haired alien angel at her beck and call, but, based on what the public has seen, is it more likely that she does than any other investigative journalist? Yes. So, if only Superman can offer her adequate protection, then—

           “Hi Lois,” Clark says, setting a paper cup on her desk. “Two sugars, no milk—” He breaks off into an almost cartoonishly exaggerated yawn that Lois nevertheless is familiar enough with to know is genuine.

           “You ought to buy some coffee for yourself,” Lois says, digging a few dollars out of her wallet and tossing them at him, which he barely catches. “I mean, if you’re going to volunteer to walk down to Reeve’s every day, anyway. And didn’t you grow up waking up at 4am to milk cows or whatever?”

           Clark smiles shyly. Like he always does. It’s a good smile, and on a kid who’s six foot three and probably better built than any of the barns he ever helped raise, it could very well explain why he always seems so exhausted in the morning. Though if Lois’ theory is true, she hasn’t seen or heard any other evidence of it. A gentleman never tells, Lois thinks idly.

           “I can and have milked cows in my sleep,” he says. “I can’t do anything in my sleep, here.” He looks down. “Uh, the truth is that I haven’t been sleeping well since the—what did they call it? The Chirauga Incident?”

           Lois grimaces. Yeah, Clark and half of Metropolis. Including her. When an army of aliens that big showed up all at once, there was no way to avoid some level of freaking out, special protection from Superman or not. “Yeah, the Chirauga Incident. Ugly sons of bitches, in my opinion. I killed one personally, you know.”

           Clark’s eyes widen in shock, and Lois grins. “What? I verified they weren’t bulletproof before going out to start, you know, researching my story.” But, because she is committed to the truth, even though Clark seems like he’ll believe anything she says, she has to add, “Well, okay. I’m pretty sure I mortally wounded it. Superman took care of it before I could find out for sure.” It had been clean. Heat vision through the Chirauga equivalent of the spinal cord. And Superman had turned to her with that red glow still shimmering in the back of his eyes. “Are you all right?” he’d asked, hovering a foot above the ground like it was nothing, looking at her like she was something. And she’d looked into the terrible weapon of his gaze and been stunned by the perfect surety that he’d never use it on a human being.

           And for all that, she’d never seen him look so alien.

           “Weren’t you watching? I had this one handled,” she’d said, with a rasp in her voice she hoped he’d attribute to the heavy dust and smoke in the air.

           “Well, in that case, I guess all I can do now is tell you to be careful out there,” he’d said.

           It would be nice if there was a discreet little jump cut in her memory right after that, but, unfortunately, Lois remembers with perfect clarity that she’d responded, “Sure thing, spaceboy,” like a complete and utter dumbass. But then Superman hadn’t laughed at her, no, he’d given her the smile and wink of an old-fashioned movie star before flying away to continue saving the world. She, on the other hand, had staggered off, feeling as emotionally churned-up as a teenager.

           The worst part about it, in her opinion, is that she knows very well that Superman has this effect on almost everyone who encounters him.

           “Ah, Superman,” Clark says, drawing her back to the present. His shocked expression has been replaced by the little smile she’s often seen him wear when talk of Superman comes up. She’s always thought there was something secretive about that smile, something notably different from the rest of his farm-boy guilelessness. (Though, she doesn’t quite believe he’s as transparent as he otherwise appears. And she doesn’t think that’s just her natural suspicion kicking in. For one thing, the Daily Planet is big, but not big enough that someone who was hired as a journalist could fall through the cracks and become nothing but a friendly coffee boy. She’s read some of his articles, the neighborhood news stuff he generally covers, and the writing is as solid as he is, with words chosen with care and sensitivity. There’s more to him than meets the eye, and if he ever decides to get ambitious, Lifestyle is in for a big surprise. For another thing, he’d moved to Metropolis during a metahuman surge, and that, frankly, was not what normies did, no matter how clueless they were.)

           The running undercurrent of what she knows about Clark and the smile that’s the one noticeable discordant note in the melody of the person she works with suddenly gel into a possible conclusion, one that Lois could’ve kicked herself for not even considering earlier.

           Talented kid moves from small-town Kansas, where he could’ve been a big fish in a tiny pond. And he doesn’t even move to a city in the same state or region, where he could have been a big fish in a medium-sized pond. Instead, he moves to Metropolis, where he won’t be a big fish at all, but where it’ll be a big project for anyone who knew him in Smallville to ever visit, or know anything about him he doesn’t want them to know. Metropolis, which, despite its dangers, still lives in the cultural mind as a place where the good kind of anything can happen. (Where Superman is often seen.) And when he’s here, he never, ever says anything about even going on a date with anyone, and mentions of Superman bring out that secretive smile. And he started off writing his articles with a clear awareness of issues that Lois has seen other straight white male coworkers fail to grok even after clear, baby-step-style explanations. And he’s never, ever tried to turn getting her coffee into something uncomfortable.

           So, possible conclusion: Clark is some flavor of queer, and still closeted/uncomfortable about it. But he can’t completely hide his crush on Superman because, well. Superman. And the kid has an honest face.

           Just goes to show, she thinks, how slow and unreliable gaydar can be, even if you are bi.

           But this does give her an idea on where to send him as she starts her initial investigation of this Project Welcome Mat. If it is big, bad business like it seems, Clark doesn’t need to get mixed up in it, even to the point of overhearing a phone call. And besides, it might help him accept himself, if he needs that.

           “You know what, Clark?” Lois says. “You need something to take your mind off shit like alien invasions.”

           Clark grimaces. “I don’t know if anything can.”

           “Yeah, it’s a toughie, but you’re a Metropolitan now,” Lois says, with more bravado than she feels. Some things you don’t get used to. But some of those things you have to at least pretend to get used to. “Get outside. Write your cat-up-a-tree article tomorrow. Do something completely out of the ordinary.” And then, as if she’s just thought of it, “Powtown Pride is going on today. Powtown’s a neighborhood. Pride’s something to write about. You could go there and see what you can see.”

           “Powtown?” Clark says, raising his eyebrows. “That’s the metahuman neighborhood. That’s…a bit more interesting than where Rowlands usually sends me.”

           Lois waves her hand. “Rita is seventy-eight and still thinks anything involving a metahuman is a front-pager. Perry can tell her otherwise when you bring back something nice.”

           “Well,” Clark says, warming to the idea, “there are a lot of misconceptions about Powtown that ought to be worn away by a reliable source like the Planet. I mean—there probably are. I don’t know, personally. But if everything written about Powtown was true, no one could live there. It’d be a smoking crater in the ground.”

           “So you see? Needs you,” Lois says. She smirks. “Be careful, though. They’ve got twinks down there that could rip you in half.”

           “Says someone who just told me about personally shooting a Chirauga,” Clark says. “No, no, I know—you had it handled. Anyway. Yeah, I will go.” He looks towards the windows and sighs. “After all, it’s a beautiful day to be outside.”

           Lois waves at him as he leaves, then glances towards the windows herself. It really is a beautiful June day, not too hot, vivid blue sky, puffy clouds slowly drifting by. Does Superman prefer days like this for flying? She wonders. Or would it not affect him at all? What would it be like to fly with Superman on a day like today—Lois sticks her tongue out in an exaggerated expression of disgust. She’s better than that! She has to be!

           Anyway, she’s got something new to investigate. Before Clark interrupted, she was thinking of what things out in the world only Superman could be adequate protection from. Well, aside from horrible things from space, that leaves a very short list that prominently features a house of a certain color and a building of a certain shape. And the name—Operation Welcome Mat—it has a very particular ring to it.

           But she’s still going to look into the rest of that short list. A direct assault isn’t the correct approach here, and besides, there might be connections, even if the person she’s going to call is officially blacklisted from government contracts.

           She scrolls to the contact in her phone for “Louis L’Amour,” and reaches out to someone who definitely isn’t a dead writer of Westerns.

Notes: I’ve decided to have Superman’s code against killing be specifically about humans/earthlings because for one thing, I don’t have to answer to Standards and Practices, and for another, I don’t feel like having every alien army be robots (which with sufficiently advanced AI doesn’t help anyway), and what do you want me to do, have Superman knock all the aliens out? If they’re going down long enough to be essentially counted out of the fight, they’re getting life-threatening brain injuries anyway. 

[ladyjenise]

I just finished the new Phasma book, and I have THOUGHTS

(also, relevant Kylux references for @salemnevada , as promised.

Major spoilers n shit below...

First thing I need to say about this book is that like 95% of the book is from the point of view of characters other than Phasma. I saw some people bitching about that, but when you actually read the book it makes total sense. The characters surrounding Phasma are also really, really interesting, so you’re doing yourself a disservice by skipping it based on that detail.

And this book is really good. Again, the new characters are really good.

Most of Phasma’s story comes to us via a Resistance spy named Vi. She’s caught by the First Order and interrogated by Captain Cardinal, Phasma’s equal in the First Order. He actually trains the children before they go to Phasma as teens/adults for final training. Both Vi and Cardinal have some really good scenes together, and lets just say based on the ending I would totally ship these two characters. Hehehehee...

Phasma’s backstory was told to Vi by someone who knew her from a teenager, a woman named Siv. Siv is also a great character. Siv and Phasma come from a planet called Parnassos, but no one knows that because Phasma’s made sure no one from that time was left alive. Parnassos is basically a Mad Max-esque hell-planet. At some point in the past 150-100 years, there was a nuclear accident and civilization decayed. Phasma was living with a small group of people, including her brother, who lived a very harsh existence. Despite the hardships they endure, their group is very loving. Siv is a woman around the same age as Phasma, but is like the healer of the group, a role she inherited from her own mother.

One day, Brendol Hux (Armitage’s dad, first seen in the Aftermath series and dead by the time of the Force Awakens) and his crew crash into Parnassos, taken down by some kind of automated air security system. Hux and three of his stormtroopers survive the crash.

There’s a lot of story here explaining how Phasma and some of her tribe end up helping Hux get to their crashed ship to call for help, and it’s a crazy-ass journey across a post-apocalyptic landscape. No one survives except for Phasma and Hux, or so Phasma thinks. Siv actually survives (after she leaves the other woman to die) and gives birth. At the time of the book, Siv has been living with her daughter in a secure underground facility on Parnassos for like 10 years, but it’s a better life than she would have had back with their tribe (all of whom die during the book).

There’s some nice tidbits in the book that are relevant to the Phasma we see in The Force Awakens (obviously), but other characters as well. Here’s a rundown:

Phasma

Phasma made her own chrome armour during a secret trip back to Parnassos after being with the First Order for a year

The chrome was taken from a Naboo yacht that used to belong to Palpatine. It was the ship that Brendol crashed into Parnassos

Phasma murdered Brendol Hux in a conspiracy with his son, Armitage

Phasma’s loyalty is to herself first, not the First Order, which explains why she let Chewie, Finn, and Han deactivate the shields on Starkiller instead of fighting them to the death

Phasma’s niece, Frey, was taken from Parnassos with her when Frey was about 5 years old, but Phasma apparently murdered her several years later

Phasma is described as having blue eyes, blonde hair, and pale skin

Armitage Hux

Fucking hates his dad

Had his dad killed in collusion with Phasma (and his dad died in a really gross way, too)

Vi describes him as a “ginger weasel”

Captain Cardinal thinks Hux is a sniveling little shit, but respected him out of loyalty to his dad

Is probably jealous of Cardinal because his dad treated Cardinal more like a son than he did Armitage

Did I mention he fucking hates his dad

Finn

Ok so Finn isn’t in this book but considering Captain Cardinal was in charge of training the stormtrooper kids he was probably one of Cardinal’s top students and knew him, because Cardinal knows all the kids in his charge, even their little nicknames they give each other. It’s really sweet, actually.

Cardinal ends up leaving the First Order, so I wonder if, by the time first before The Force Awakens, Captain Phasma was considering Finn as an eventual replacement for Cardinal. I see a LOT of compassionate traits in Cardinal that I also see in Finn. I’d actually be interested in seeing these two characters meet at some point.

Rey

Again, Rey’s not in the book, but her and Captain Cardinal have something in common: they both grew up on Jakku. Unlike Cardinal, Rey wasn’t born on Jakku (we think), and unlike Rey, Cardinal left Jakku when still a boy.

BUT

Brendol Hux actually came to Jakku and personally took Cardinal away to join the stormtrooper program. And according to Cardinal, Armitage was there with his father. I suspect Cardinal and Armitage are roughly the same age. This means this meeting occurred before Rey was even born. But what was Brendol doing on Jakku in the first place? Who knows...

The Kylux Stuff

It’s really not overt and more like the “wink n nod” that people have been describing. At one point, Cardinal goes to see Armitage and the guy answers the door to his quarters in a fucking bathrobe, which is just the best. Armitage’s quarters are actually his dad’s old quarters, so Cardinal knows them well, except lil Armie’s done some interior decorating. Cardinal notes that Armitage’s tastes are very spartan, comparing them to Kylo Ren’s. It’s very much one of those “why even drop that name in comparison?” references that would be weird unless you knew it was a Kylux thing.

After Cardinal leaves, Armitage decides to get ready for his meeting, and there’s the line like “Kylo Ren does not like to be kept waiting”, and I was like HUE HUE HUE. Again, not a really obvious thing until you’re like picturing Armitage just chilling in his crib in his bathrobe, thinking about his meeting with Kylo...

I wonder if Kylo knows Armie killed his dad, too.

Final Verdict

Go read this book. It’s great. GO NOW.

But if you’re going to read this one and the new Leia one, read this one first because it’s got a lot of really bummer parts to it. 

[garden-of-succulents]

2017.5 fanworks roundup

The weasels of doubt that chew on my brain: Ugh, you haven't written or posted ANYTHING since you posted that fic exchange in December. You've just sat around and not produced anything, like a big lazy lump. Me: Uh..... let's fact-check that one.

So in the spirit of my 2016 roundup, here's my 2017.5 roundup! Compiled mostly by reading back in my Stuff I Wrote tag. Reminder that I have a blanket open fanworks policy: Feel free to add to, remix, theorize about, or create art, audio, fic, or anything else for my fanworks!

Stuff I Consider Finished: Aroace Parse/Swoops. Jack Zimmermann and Stan Rogers. The secret to Ransom's parents' marriage. Tater, George, and image management. Jack is a rolemodel for fuckups everywhere. Fic of fic: Parse/Swoops/Jack/Bitty/Tater. Chowder calls Bitty his personal chef on social media. Tater can talk himself out of traffic tickets. Bitty moves back to Georgia in his late 30s. Tater and Ransom looking after each other through injuries and med school. Sadass teenage Pimms paragraph. Mashbits pregame naps. Jack and chewy stim toys. Ford trying to keep Whiskey from traumatizing Tango. Zimbits next-gen dream writeup. Anglo Canadian stuff I want Ransom to do. Ransom and Holster being cool with Bitty's gayness. Dex learning about privilege. A Mashbits AU people took amazing places. Kent coping with music. Nurseylardo snuggling. Zimbits "Enchanted" AU. Where does Holster get off on bugging Ransom about "selling out"?. Pimms in a Pimbits universe: Locker room sex (AO3). A theory about why Bad Bob makes that weird face in Jack's baby pictures. I forgot who "Adam" was. George billeting Tater as a rookie. Peak Jack Zimmermann. Poly Ransom/Holster/March. Zimbits pace bunny AU. Ransom learning about Nursey/Tater. Nursey/Tater. Jack doesn't love history, he only loves hockey. Reblog if you’re mentally ill, a trauma survivor, or had a shitty childhood, and you think fanworks about Kent Parson are valuable and worth making.. The frog Jack develops a crush on is Justin Oluransi. What I want out of Ranskov. Poly Ford/Lardo/Shitty. What kind of antagonist I think Parse will be. Jack's fans learn he likes pie. Jack the edgy Canadian history major. Jack gets a picture of Canadian soldiers playing hockey. AU where Bitty's from Alberta like me. Notes towards a police AU. Kent Parson with ADHD and dyslexia. Jack gets a history article published. Jack begged the Sorting Hat not to put him in Hufflepuff. Kent listening to Welcome to Night Vale music during games. Fact-based thoughts on Jack's alcoholism. Patater is OMGCP fandom’s Draco/Neville. Jack as Bitty's nonathletic French tutor. Parse gives Holster relationship advice re: Ransom. Jack goes skiing the year after his overdose. Tater handles Parse taking some news VERY badly (AO3). Follow up thought on the complexity of being a Parse fan. Fannish Minor Character Obsession Draft Candidates for 2017. Jack Zimmermann is a paper snowflake ho. The Rimroller™. A Jack/Chowder AU. The Zimmermenn. Hall/Murray OTP 4eva. Jack gets a dog. Why Dex looks up to Ransom and Nursey looks up to Holster. Post-apocalyptic Parse/Ransom AU and Part Two. Ransom wants Tater to deadlift him. Patater World Juniors soulmate AU. Bitty writes academic papers about Beyonce. Bitty using Jack’s computer when it’s set to Canadian Multilingual Standard. I think Holster played Juniors in Waterloo, Ontario, not Iowa. Kent and self-injury.Kent's role in bakery AUs. Does Bitty have PTSD?

Stuff I am Done With Right Now But Wish Had Gone Further: the seed of Jack and Ford's friendship. Suzanne and Alicia AU idea. Ford and Bitty watching football. Tater goes to a kegster to romance Ransom (Part Two) (AO3).

The Coach Bittle/Bad Bob AU: Rich knows who Bob is. Bob finds out Rich is a CFL player. Jack who grew up with openly queer retired pro athletes for dads. Jack meeting Kent.

Stuff I Would Like to Come Back to Later: A Ranskov retelling of Yuri on Ice. Bitatomann Bodyswap AU (Part Two). The Gay Island story (more). The Stanley Cup age regression story. A Ransom-on-the-Falconers Ranskov AU. Kent visits Tater's gay moms in Moscow. TATER'S GAY MOMS Y'ALL.

Gay hockey moms (AO3): 1997: George and Suzanne meet again. 1992, 1994, 1997: Suzanne bakes her way into George’s heart. Suzanne confesses her love . Telling Bitty's Moomaw about their relationship. 2002 Olympics: George and Suzanne talk strategy for being gay as they plan to move to the South. How Bitty’s life would have changed in an openly gay family in Georgia. Suzanne Bittle is a cool gay mom. George and Suzanne's weddings. 2013: Bitty tells his moms about his first couple days at Samwell. 2013: Bitty and Jack meet each other’s families at Parents’ Weekend and have a clash of worldviews. 2013: Bitty explains to Shitty how growing up surrounded by pro hockey players has affected his perspective on the sport. George evaluates Jack as a player.

Princess Robinson: Carrie Robinson interviewing Bitty as a babysitter. Bitty and Holsom babysitting Princess.

Andy Scarlatti: The Flemish Giant of puck bunnies. Andy coaching little kids. An easter egg for fans of the TV show Flashpoint. Andy during playoffs. Kent and Andy having sex in 2011. Thoughts on marriage and children. Kent and Andy hooking up when she lives in Minneapolis. A femslash idea between the Falcs and Aces twitter staff. Dealing with Kent's bad days. About Kent and Andy hooking up in 2011. Further thoughts on relationships that take a long time to come to fruition. The All-Star Game Story: The dinner party. Kent wakes up. Andy goes down to breakfast. Andy and Bitty talk. Kent and Andy have a quiet moment. Kent and Jack talk.

Luis and Maida (the original Garden of Succulents): Maida's online life. How Kent met Maida and Luis. Maida's career with wild birds. Kent, Luis and Maida run away together after locker cleanout. Maida and Luis interacting with Andy.

Climb Aboard the Minivan Express (Zimbits Single Dads AU) (AO3): How Bitty ended up with the frogs. Jack being Chowder's hockey coach. Jack babysits so Bitty can go out on a date.

Love Drought (the Bittypoots AU) (AO3): Jack wants to punch Poots in the face. Bitty gets stood up and goes to a gay bar. Jack talks to Kent and Alexei about Bittypoots.

Meta: Conflicting access needs and safe vs safer spaces. Brief position statement on Jack's orientation. Thoughts on being a fandom writer with mental disorders that keep you from writing. The first racism apology. The second racism apology. Thoughts about Shitty abominableobriens added cool thoughts to. Thoughts on queerness and skin hunger. Me and puns. Me and BPD (AO3). If you want to talk to me about racism. More about writing BPD. Facts about Borderline Personality Disorder. A representation callout that went really well. Thoughts about class. Good idea/bad idea: Getting people to write fic you want. Not all relationships in a polycule need to be equal and equivalent.

[blackcat-horror]

Hi. Would you mind answering all of the Halloween Themed asks?

Long post, under the cut!

Jack-o-lantern: What’s your favorite thing to do on Halloween?Well, when I was little, it was trick-or-treating and making candied apples with my dad. Nowadays, it’s dressing up with my cat, taking pictures, making cider, and then ordering our favorite takeout and watching our favorite Halloween movies.

Candles: What are your top 3 favorite scary movies?Hellraiser, Zombies of Mass Destruction, and The Rite, not in that order.

Ghost: Do you plan to dress up this Halloween? If so, what are you going as?Yes, I do plan to! And I don’t know yet, I have a few ideas up my sleeve.

Trick-or-treat: What is your favorite candy to receive on Halloween? When I was little, it was almost any candy, especially Skittles. But now my favorite candy to get is any chewy toffee or caramel.

Spider: Do you prefer to carve pumpkins or paint them? Store bought or pumpkin patch?When I know it’s going to be a rainy Halloween, I get the fake pumpkins and paint them and put a waterproof coat on em. I prefer real pumpkins, but not in the house, but I always get a couple sugar pumpkins to make cookies and such.

Cemetery: Who is your favorite serial killer? Why?If we’re talking real, Jack the Ripper, because the stories always fascinated me, and I loved that time period. If we’re talking fictional, Hannibal Lecter, because he was the most believable monster that I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing.

Nightmare: Do you believe in spirits?Most certainly. There are situations that can be debunked, but I still believe in them.

Black cat: Have you ever visited a haunted house? Were you scared?I’ve lived in a haunted house, and it was…. Unsettling. But if we’re talking about the fair attraction, yes, I’ve been in one, and yes, I was scared out of my wits because my friend’s boyfriend forgot to mention that it was a Stephen King inspired haunted house, and there is nothing in the world I hate more than clowns.

Candy corn: Have you ever had a paranormal experience? Tell the story!Oh boy… here we go. When I was in elementary school, my dad and my grandmother and I moved into this interesting two-story house. Mind you, the “ground floor” was technically the second floor, and the first level was below street-level. There was a distinct metallic scent downstairs, and I didn’t really like going down there because my grandmother was stern and hated going down the stairs after me.Anyways, my dad worked graveyard (hahaha) and my grandmother always went to bed early, after sending me to bed, but I have had a delayed sleep disorder since I was five. (I was in fourth grade at the time.) Since I couldn’t sleep, I would sit up and listen to the cars on the freeway by our house till I fell asleep.My bedroom looked out over the back yard. I never went back there since it was steep and rocky. I was looking out into the yard one night, spacing out, when I saw movement in the tall grass, where it was too steep to stand safely. I looked harder and this face poked out, long and angular with glowing yellow-white eyes and a wide mouth. I hid under the covers until I fell asleep. I never saw it again.My dad and my grandmother also experienced things. Dad slept on the floor below street-level, and he would complain of icy pools of water in his bed when there weren’t any leaks, and every could feel something watching us from the air vents. There were also incidents of being grabbed round the ankle by a long clawed hand, and people calling your name when you were completely alone (My grandmother would hear me call for her when I was at school, etc.)It turns out that the very damaged telephone pole in front of our house was actually the site of a car accident. A teenager wrapped his car around the tree and died on the spot. Who knows if it was him, or a group of spirits, or something even more sinister. All I know is that we all agreed to move out as soon as summer vacation started for me.

Vampire: Do you believe in any supernatural beings? Yes. I believe in quite a few. But I also believe that certain things can make you believe something is supernatural, although there are some things that just can’t be explained. The only thing I don’t really want to believe is true is that there’s like a missing link running around out there. 

Frankenstein: What is the scariest fictional monster you can think of?Frankenstein’s Creation is the first that comes to mind. He’s so passionate and human and enraged, and that scares me. It’s something that can be relatable, especially in this day and age, that feeling of abandonment and that madness. Zombies would come in second, because the concept of something that mindless being able to overpower you simply because of numbers is terrifying.

Bonfire: What are your plans this Halloween? On a scale of 1-10, how excited are you?I don’t know what my plans are just yet, but I’m always at a 10 for excitement when it comes to Halloween plans!

Thank you!

[linandara]

My Last Jedi review

I like how this has been a bit of a "coming out" season: Serious, edicated, professional people suddenly post Star Wars reviews, sometime very critical, and I realise they really care, and are crazy life long fans just as I am.

Here is my contribution. I watched The Last Jedi (TLJ) twice. Discussed it with the family, then read other reviews. I did enjoyed quite a lot of it and may watch it again but my overall opinion is, sadly, negative. Spoilers are coming.

The biggest, greatest mistake is the lack of good strong relationships. Space is cold, but ALL previous Star Wars movies always had plenty of warmth from the the various forms of love and affection: between children and parents (Luke's towards his father, Anakin and his mum, Jyn Erso and her dad), best friends (Han, Luke, Chewie, Lando), siblings (Luke and Leia), teachers and students (Obi-Van and Qui-Gon, Obi-Van and Anakin, Luke and Obi-Van, Luke and Yoda), lovers (Leia and Han, Padme and Anakin). Where are any of these in the new movie?

Whatever was developing between Rey and Finn, Finn and Poe in The Force Awakens (TFA) is mostly forgotten. Rey and Luke are not getting along, which is particularly disappointing. Finding a lost close relative (father, sister) always was a Star Wars shortcut to developing a relationship and strong feelings. Alternatively, people spend years "in the same boat" and have got to the same point, when they knew and cared for each other. Rian Johnson did none of those. It seemed for a while that there was a spark between Rey and Ben Solo but it went nowhere when they parted. A glimpse of something between Finn and Rose was at the very end. A very short heart warming scene with Luke and Leia and that's it. I really liked the moment when Yoda said he missed Luke in his nicely mocking way. But all was just some rare raindrops in a wast emotional desert. Even through Luke had known Obi-Van for a day or so, he was so upset when the old man died. Yet Rey and his own sister didn't spared a tear for him. Like saying "this was for the best".

I really liked TFA and "Rogue One". I was looking forward to seeing TLJ a great deal. Now I like TFA less as its promises went unfulfilled.

Plot holes and apparent disregard for the laws of nature was another blow. Did rebels abolished autopilots? Why did they need to sacrifice pilots with their ships? How they better than the First Order then? Why can the admiral trust her soldiers and explain the situation avoiding a mutiny?

Creating a consistant fantasy reality or suspension of disbelief is essential to fictional stories. Only once before this was broken for me in Star Wars: in the Revenge of the Sith when Anakin turns to the dark side. His downward ark was badly written which was a pity because the first half of that movie was really good and strong. In TLJ this was happening several times! Leia floating in space didn't work. Lots of aliens were badly made (including Yoda himself). I thought we are past this with the modern technology! The "Luke milking an alien" scene was disturbing because in Star Wars it is often difficult to distinguish between intelligent and non-intelligent species. One of the frases Rey said to Luke sounded definitely awful. Why wasn't it retaken? The Luke's face when he was thinking of slaying teenage Ben in his sleep was so wrong, probably because Mark just couldn't believe his character, who saved Darth Vader despite all odds, would do that.

I think, the Luke's last stand and dying scenes were good. Well made, dramatic and original. I think, him projecting through the space rather than being here in person was necessary because he was already too weak to face Kylo Ren. That's the reason he never got back. He appeared to his former student and Leia younger, as he would look like before his exile, because he wanted to be remembered strong, proper Jedi, not a broken old man already dying far away, alone.

I wish it all happened in the next movie because I just have nothing to look forward any more. Unless JJ will have a lot of Luke's ghost appearances - which would be something new for the series. Luke was the most unique and alive character in TLJ. Grumpy, weird, but thinking and feeling. None of the young characters are good enough for me to care. Especially when Rey is now really nobody from nowhere, which is boring (unless Ben lies about her parents). And she is a "Mary Sue", which is boring again. Pity, because she had a good potential to be a great character after TFA. Ben has tantrums, which is funny but I can't take him seriously. Finn, Rose and Poe are just you average token generic good rebels, nothing much to say. They are nice and are played by good actors, but it's not enough. We need true heroes for these movies to work. Luke was a simple rebel character in the New Hope which never was my favourite Star Wars movie. But he grew steeply into a proper wise knight, which was the main point of the original series to me. Rian Johnson made him broken by guilt and fear, destroying everything he had achieved. That I could potentially forgive because he finally redeems Luke and brings my favourite ever fictional character back, when he returns to Leia and confronts Ben Solo. I wanted more so much - but instead he dies.

I really hoped Luke will leave his exile and go on a quest (several quests - even better) together with Rey, his new apprentice for years to come, building a strong relationship, whether they related by blood or not. When I've seen the casino pictures I thought by some reason that this will be one of their destinations, like great scenes with Obi-Van and Anakin, Obi-Van, Han and Luke, Rey and Finn in alien bars. Nope.

As Han dies quite suddenly and frankly pointlessly in TFA, a connection between the generations seems to be unfortunately lost. I think Han should have been very seriously injured but survived his meeting with his son for a better plot.

Lots of plot lines in TLJ lead nowhere. One can say this is what real life is but if the movies will be "nothing in particular happened on that day" what would be the point of watching them? Art is in selecting and prioritising what's matters, in making good stories, not simply copying the mundane.

There was so much of an introduction from Maz for the master code breaker - and then another one chosen. And then it all was unnecessary after all. A silly Rose monologue about evils of arms dealing and revenge on the rich, just to erase all that by showing that the rebels shop for their x-wing fighters at the same casino planet… Incidentally, were rebel generals so overdressed because they were planning to go arms shopping here after the battle? I loved the costumes and the jewellery (even hope to buy some replicas) but it was too much for the rebel situation. The casino planet, as Finn noticed, was beautiful - apart from some badly made aliens. And captive animals suddenly released in the wild are not likely to survive, Rose and Finn! Whole "rebels loose all the time" situation reminded me of Blake's Seven, which I find very depressing.

Were Knights of Ren got to? Phasma was easily killed without any chance to do or to say anything important. Characters which don't enrich the story are not necessary. It's not a tv series, time on the screen is pressious.

The sword battle in the Red room was very good and the way Ben killed overconfident Snoke was, I thought, excellent. Although unfortunately we didn't learn a thing about Snoke.

Unlike many critics I liked the humour in TLJ. Luke winking to C3PO, brushing dust of his cloak and saying to Ben something like "see you around" just before he died was good. The red sand planet was hauntingly beautiful. Riding the huge alien beasts was fun to watch althrough that whole part of the story was pointless. I liked Rey in the "dark side" cave but the scene didn't gave as anything apart from feeling weird. What is the dark side about? What is the attraction?

The movie is criticised for paving the way for merchandise to be sold. Rubbish. I wish me and my friends, teenagers in the Soviet Union, had any merchandise to cherish when we watched the Original Trilogy. Instead we had to stop the videotape and take black and white photos to have at least something.

The music score in TLJ was the worst of Star Wars. Especially painful because TFA and Rogue One scores were so good. Almost no unique tracks to listen, just a mishmash of old tunes plus something reminding totally childish Harry Potter music.

Another big problem is the meaning of good and evil. How Snoke got to Ben? Why did Ben chose the dark side? Why Rey didn't? It is good that Luke admits the Jedi Order's flaws to Rey but why didn't he went to the dark side knowing all that? This is a big problem for the whole Star Wars saga. In real life people do horrible things thinking they are doing good. Nobody "chooses evil side". So Snoke, a vilian for the sake of being a vilian, already was a mistake in TFA. I think it was Aristotel who said that confrontation in a story should be between relatives or former friends to keep us engaged. This is why Luke, Leia or Han are needed to oppose Ben. Unless Rey is Ben's cousin after all. An opportunity for a romance (which would bring some necessary viewer engagement) for those two young people, I think, is already lost as nothing even started so far, after two movies.

TLJ is very entertaining to watch but that's not good enough for Star Wars. For Jurassic Park or James Bond, yes. A Star Wars story needs a strong emotional connection with the viewer and the latest doing lots of thinking about "What is Good?" because of what he sees.

All the flaws were very surprising considering that movies are done by groups of people. Could somebody brave point the mistakes and the weak moments to the director? How so many "professional" reviews ignored them and why?

I hope JJ will rescue the ending of this three parter but not in a way in which the ending of Lost was done, ruining the series! And maybe in a few years time somebody will make good quality CGI movies or an Dragon Age Inquisition/Witcher-like choice game, either set in alternative reality or in between The Return of Jedi and TFA. To give Luke, Han and Leia a bit more screen time they deserve and to reestablish the good proper heroes they originally were.

Saying that, I think all movies, games and books should come with a waring "To avoid disappointment, write your own stories" ;)

So here's the list of Star Wars movies in the order I rate them, from the favourite and much loved ones to the less loved.

The Return of Jedi

Empire Strickes Back

Rogue One

Attack of the Clones

The Force Awakens

A New Hope

Revenge of the Sith

The Phantom Menace

The Last Jedi

Still, I think it's the best film series made so far on this planet and any one is far ahead (in my rating) of other sci-fi, adventure and fantasy movies I ever enjoyed watching. Honestly I tried to find other good stoies and other good heroes many times since I was 15. Maybe I will one day.

[amorremanet]

Sebastian

“ten facts about my characters” meme


1. The background on his phone is currently El Greco’s 1585 Pieta. He wanted to have a picture of one of his dogs, but then he felt like he was being mean to the other five, so he set it to the late Chewie but that just made him feel terrible because she just passed away in March, so he and Pete tried to get all six of the dogs on Seb’s couch at once but they wouldn’t cooperate, so Seb gave up and picked a painting that he likes.


(and while Seb and Pete were trying to corral six dogs onto the couch for a family portrait, Margot just kinda sat aside in one of the chairs, reading and casually telling her boys, “This isn’t going to work” and then she got to go, “I told you so” when it didn’t)



2. Seb loves nicknames, both giving and receiving, but probably his favorite nickname is the one that Pete gave him back in high school, 
“Princess.”

He earned that nickname because he was babbling about how princesses are actually pretty cool, and they can get shit done, and Pete was torn between enjoying this and being frustrated because he had to finish writing an essay for class, so he went, “Okay, if you stop talking about it right now, you can be MY princess. Would that make you happy?”

Long story short, yes. It made Seb very happy.

That said, Pete is the only one who’s allowed to call him, “Princess.” Partly, this is because Pete gets possessive of the nickname because he likes having special nickname privileges and Seb likes making his best friend happy.

On the other hand, it’s partly because Seb is used to most folks who aren’t Pete using, “Princess” to refer to him in a more dismissive, if not outright derogatory, way. There are some people whom he’d mostly be okay with using the term, if not for how much Pete likes having exclusive nickname privileges, but most people are not on that list.

But most people will be told, “I’m Pete’s Princess, not yours,” or if they try it in front of Pete, they might get told, “Hey, he’s my Princess, not yours.”

Just…… it’s not your nickname, please don’t use it.



3. In “your OC’s as text post meme” land, one of the ones that I gave him was, “in alcohol’s defense I’ve done some pretty dumb shit while completely sober too” — which is true.

Like, for example, his lower-back tattoo of Oscar Wilde’s line from De Profundis, “Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling” — which he got in the area of the lower back that is usually called something misogynistic that rhymes with, “damp scamp,” and then he was completely shocked when Todd, Margot, and Pete thought it was about sucking dick.

And Margot and Todd at least tried to explain it, while Pete just could not and fell over laughing because this was the funniest thing to happen all week, and Seb was just like, “Oscar Wilde was talking about prayer! And redemption! It’s from his prison letter to Bosie! I can see where you’re coming from but it’s not about sucking dick, oh my god, why is everyone being like this!”

—and right as Pete finally started calming down, Todd started to go, “Well… I mean, were you drinking? Just tell people you were drunk.”

Seb: “………I was completely sober. *blushes scarlet as Pete falls over laughing again**”

Seb doesn’t regret this tattoo, exactly (because if he did, he could and probably would just get it removed). But he does feel exceptionally silly for not even thinking that it was, in Pete’s words, “Like putting ‘nympho’ on the ass of your jeans, but in tattoo form” (though he still maintains that jfc, that’s not what the quote was about, why is everyone like this)



4. Seb can drive a motorcycle, and owns one, but since his cousin Jeremy died, he hasn’t really been able to ride it without getting upset and, sometimes, having panic attacks that he refuses to admit are panic attacks, because those are for people who have, “real problems” (i.e., literally everyone but him).

Anyway, he doesn’t know it yet (because they haven’t met each other yet), but Sara Grace is very interested in learning how to ride a motorcycle, and while Seb isn’t going to full-on teach her himself, he’ll be glad to give her a couple pointers, and once she has her license, he’ll gladly give her Bettie.

He absolutely named his bike after Bettie Page, because he’s a loser nerd.

5. Seb can be incredibly frustrating to deal with about some things, because he’s so open to hearing other people’s perspectives on things, and hearing most kinds of new information, and revising his opinions about most things…… but then there are other things that he just will not listen about until reality kicks him in the ass, and even that isn’t always a guarantee.

A lot of this has to do with his until-recently undiagnosed and thus untreated or improperly treated depression. Other parts of it have to do with the PTSD that he “totally doesn’t have” (i.e., he totally does have PTSD, but he thinks that he can’t possibly have PTSD because that would be an actual problem, and he doesn’t have any actual problems, because reasons).

The biggest underlying theme in the things that he’s stubborn about is that they go back to things like devaluing himself, invalidating himself and his feelings and his problems, hurting himself and/or justifying it, denying the possibility that he deserves nice things or that nice things are happening to him (e.g., “There’s no way that Stephen is flirting with me, he’s just being nice, he’s a nice person” — Seb, to Pete, after Stephen had just tried to make a joke about sleeping with Seb*), denying that anything is wrong with him or his life or anything, etc.

But, seriously? This is a guy who can, without missing a beat, jump right from complaining about how his big brother Max low-grade hates Margot and Todd, even though Max doesn’t really know them and rejects most information that contradicts his preconceived ideas of who they are and what they mean to Seb…… to insisting that Max probably hates him based more on his own anxiety and self-loathing than on any actual facts evidence of what Max feels about him

Seb is also a guy who can tell you in earnest that he’s a complete idiot, while reading Proust in the original French (and possibly complaining that none of the English translators really get it right), or can tell you that he’s an idiot and follow it up with a completely off-the-cuff lesson on Latin grammar and vocabulary, and just

Trusting Seb’s opinions about himself is a bad idea, because his opinions about himself usually have only a very select relation to reality and some things will end up being magnified while others are ignored, and he’s just not always a reliable narrator



6. Seb is a Hufflepuff, even though he doesn’t appreciate what that means because the HP series isn’t really his thing and he only got Pottermore-Sorted as part of helping Todd apologize to his teenage niece, Bianca. If Seb did understand what this means, he’d probably identify with the stereotype of, “Hufflepuff, ‘taking the lot’ means that they’re the reject House, lol” because that’s how he feels, even if it’s

 not actually accurate.

The Hufflepuff stereotype that he more accurately fits is the, “you have ten fingers? I have ten fingers! Let’s be friends!” one

Granted, it’s a lot harder for him to be like that than it used to be when he was younger, but Seb is still someone who:

decided that he wanted to be Margot’s friend because of how she seemed interesting and cool during the few minutes they spent paired up in a, “get to know the people on your hall” exercise in their freshman year of undergrad

called his Mom after meeting Todd for the first time (and trying to ask him out on a date-date, but botching it a bit and instead getting platonic coffee), because he was just so happy to have made a new friend, even if he’d totally failed to convey any potential romantic interest

and started his first conversation with the guy who would become his sponsor by noticing the CD case for Judy at Carnegie Hall in Nick’s bag and proceeding to kinda geek out at Nick about it, then ask for a bunch of Nick’s opinions

and after having a nice chat with Nick at the after-meeting coffee talk, Seb went home, where Margot was waiting with his dogs, and went, “So, I met someone at group who I really like and I really want him to like me, he’s this nice older guy, he has a cat and a husband and apparently quite a few stories that I’ve only just begun to scratch the surface of, he owns an art gallery, his name is Nick, I really like him, omg”

7. Seb is a devout Catholic. It’s pretty easy for people to forget this fact (even his sponsor Nick, and sometimes even his parents), but that’s mostly because:

1. being devout doesn’t mean that he acts like what most people he deals with consider a, “good Catholic boy” (to be fair, he used to act more like that, but he really hasn’t since he was about sixteen, because that was when he had to leave his Catholic school in a pretty Not Good series of events, went to his Dad’s old prep school instead, and in short, went through Some Shit);

and 2. he hasn’t ever seen a contradiction between being gay and non-celibate and totally fine with his sexuality, and being Catholic. If you ask Seb, though, the biggest problems he’s ever had here have had jack squat to do with God or Jesus or his faith, and everything to do with other human beings being homophobic dicks who only liked him as long as they believed hat he was straight.

The latter problem has been slightly relieved by him switching churches, which was pretty much entirely Margot’s doing.

Like, Seb was more or less resigned to sucking it up and going to Mass with a priest who was openly homophobic, and fellow parishioners who had a tendency to be pitying but kinda sorta sympathetic when he showed up looking like shit because he was probably up all night and was likely hungover or still kinda drunk, and might gently mention a second-cousin who had a lot of success with this AA group or that therapist one moment, then say some homophobic bullshit the next because they had no idea they were talking to a gay man

So, Margot found a different parish — one that technically isn’t sanctioned by the Vatican but was started by two gay men who left seminary to be together, and is socially and politically liberal-to-progressive and very pro LGBTQ — and she only didn’t bodily drag Seb to it because he’s 6’3”, she’s 4’11”, and he’s physically stronger than she is besides.

Instead, she went, “I am your friend, I’m concerned about you, and the only way to make me be less concerned, right now? Is to stop acting like the only way to fulfill your spiritual needs is essentially emotional self-harm. You don’t need to debase yourself by fake smiling and catering to those people, they don’t deserve it”


As far as most people are concerned, Margot intervened and started dragging Seb to a different and technically non-Vatican-sanctioned church out of enlightened self interest. Going to his previous church was fucking him up, which was screwing with her ability to work and their, “business ventures,” and that’s it, because Margot has trouble admitting to most people that she has a heart or ever does nice things for other people.

Anyway, another positive here is that Seb is now on legitimately good terms with the people at church, rather than, “good terms as long as they don’t know he’s gay, or fake good terms where he spends most of their conversations internally screaming,” from the other parishioners to the staff and priests.

The youngest of the priests, Fr. Teddy, is one of the few people out of the huge number of contacts in Seb’s phone who’s saved as a favorite.

They have a standing friendly coffee-date every Sunday after Mass, and although Seb doesn’t entirely know if he’s “allowed” to call Teddy a friend or not (because he has a lot of trouble with that in general), they know each other pretty well, Teddy didn’t exactly save Seb’s life once but did get him to help when he couldn’t exactly do it himself, Teddy was there at Seb’s intervention, and Seb is on a first-name basis with Joel, Teddy’s nice Jewish boyfriend while Teddy is on a first-name basis with Margot and Pete, knows Todd kinda but more knows of him, and will be eager to meet Stephen, once he and Seb get serious.

Teddy isn’t exactly skeptical of this superhero thing that Seb sort of stumbled into, but he’s watched someone else he cares about go into it with good intentions only to end up selling out and doing nothing for anyone but himself anymore, so Teddy’s a bit wary

The person in question was Teddy’s cousin Elliott. He’s a member of the All-Stars team out of Manhattan, and…… well. There are a lot of reasons why Teddy doesn’t talk about their connection, and only one of them is that he cares about protecting Elliott’s secret identity, since he’s only famous as his costumed alter-ego.



8. Seb’s only been going to AA and NA meetings for a year-and-a-half, when the story starts, and he already has more than a few examples of Times When He Showed Up For Group While Wearing Something Unfortunate Or Just Barely Avoided This, including but not limited to:

The time he wasn’t paying attention and put on a t-shirt with the Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Whiskey label on it, simple because it happened to be clean, and when Pete went, “Uh, Princess? Really?” and offered to run back to Seb’s place so he could change, Seb’s solution was to take the shirt off in the middle of their favorite coffee shop, turn it inside out, and put it back on

The time he wasn’t paying attention and threw on a shirt that Todd had left at his place, which was somewhat oversized on Seb, but was also one of the sexual innuendo shirts that Todd, “only wears ironically” (i.e., he totally thinks they’re funny, because Todd has the sense of humor of a twelve-year-old looking up cuss words in the dictionary and just learned what 69 means, but Todd is also a pretentious hipster fuck who can’t just admit that he thinks his stupid sexual innuendo t-shirts are funny, so he has to misuse the term, “irony” to justify wearing them)

Anyway, Seb went to his Friday night NA wearing this little number (a purple shirt with a cartoon bubble tea and a caption that says, “suck my balls”), and actually, he probably would’ve been okay just wearing that, but Pete took it as a sign that Seb and Todd were having sex again (which they weren’t, at least not right within ten days of that incident), and got exasperated and Dramatic™ about sex that his bestie hadn’t even been having


The time when he wasn’t paying attention and grabbed one of Pete’s shirts (which was: 1. just at Seb’s place, because Pete’s over often enough to justify having some spare clothes around, and Seb hadn’t sorted out the laundry yet; and 2. already small on Pete because he wanted it to be tighter-fitting), and Seb sort of just assumed that he’d screwed something up and shrunk the shirt, and maybe this would’ve gotten cleared up if Pete had been able to meet him for coffee before group

—but Pete couldn’t meet for coffee, so Seb showed up in a hot pink Female Trouble t-shirt that was almost a crop-top on him, and didn’t put everything together until Pete got there and went, “Oh, I wondered where I left that.”


And hey, on the second anniversary of his cousin Jeremy’s death, Seb is going to end up going to NA in a pair of scrub pants that belonged to one of Pete’s exes and got left in Pete’s car for over a year, a crop top that belongs to Pete (though, as far as shirt designs go, a black shirt that says, “too cute to be straight” isn’t really that bad), and a pair of sandals that Seb thought he lost but actually they were also in Pete’s car all this time

This is going to happen because Seb still won’t have that much control over his shifts because no one will have worked out what triggers them, exactly, or what La Bête’s deal is.

So, when he and Pete visit Jeremy’s grave, Seb’s emotional upset triggers a shift that he can’t stop, and Pete handles it really well, especially considering that it’s the first time he’s actually seeing Seb turn into a nine-foot-tall wolf-person

……But then, when Pete gets Seb to shift back, Seb is kind of naked. Kind of very naked. And they don’t have enough time to get him home before group, so they make do with whatever clothes Pete can find in his trunk while Seb curls up in the backseat so he can’t get arrested for indecent exposure while stone cold sober



9. 
If you pay attention, what Seb’s wearing on his arms can be a good way to guess how he’s probably doing, emotionally. See, Seb’s arms are kind of a mess:

His tattoos looked fine: on his right, the black outline of a rosary; on his left, the family’s heraldic wolf with its thyrsus staff. His scars, however, were another story. Most were thin and uniform, horizontal and so pale that they almost disappeared against his skin. Just below the wolf was a small circle, left behind by an ex-boyfriend’s lit cigarette. But each arm also had one vertical scar, longer and angrier than the rest. Gnarled like the bark of their Grandfather’s favorite ironwood tree, they cut over the smaller marks and bubbled underneath his ink in a bloodless, silvery shade of pink. Five years after giving them to himself, Seb couldn’t look at them without his insides going cold.

He’d really like to get to the point where he feels more or less secure enough to just wear short sleeves without letting other people’s reactions get to him too much…… but that’s probably a long way off for Seb, not least because he hasn’t actually been working on it that hard so much as wishing for it.

As it stands, Seb has a few usual standbys — long sleeves regardless of the weather; arm warmers (i.e., the long finger-less gloves with different kinds of rivets and lacing or other decor, all of which he got when he was a teenager and having a mall goth Hot Topic phase); different combinations of cuffs and bracelets (many of which are also left over from his Hot Topic phase); and, “nothing, but this should not be seen as a sign of him doing well, just yet”

Arm warmers are usually Seb’s default during the spring, summer, and early autumn, because they can draw attention but they’re also less of a pain than wearing long sleeves during a Baltimore summer. This makes them the hardest one to really get an accurate read on, because he wears them for so many different moods, but they all average out to, “He’s probably not doing great, but then, he’s almost never doing great; he’s about as okay as he ever manages”

Long sleeves tend to mean that Seb is feeling vulnerable and not-that-great, because they might attract attention sure, but it’s usually not as much as he gets while being nearly thirty and wearing his teenage Hot Topic mall goth arm warmers

Unfortunately for Seb, some of the people who love him still associate long sleeves with, “Sebastian is trying to hide something,” especially when he wears them in the middle of summer — which is how we get moments like Max catching his little brother by the wrist and anxiously tugging Seb’s sleeves back to check his arms

Which is just…… Max doesn’t mean for that to be hurtful or anything, but he’s worried about his brother (and not without reason, either) and he’s scared and he really doesn’t get that doing things like this isn’t helpful for myriad reasons, and in his experience, Seb most often wears long sleeves in summer when he’s been hurting himself and/or getting high

Bracelets and the like usually means that consciously, Seb isn’t sure if he wants to talk about something or not, but he probably does want to talk about it and will do so, if someone nudges him or gives him some indication that they’re willing to listen (because he kinda needs to be nudged and invited and otherwise reminded that he’s allowed and encouraged to talk about what he’s feeling with people, it doesn’t make him a burden)

And, at present, unless Seb is at home (either alone or with Pete, Margot, and/or Todd), short sleeves with bare forearms usually mean that Seb is really not in a good state of mind, because he’s probably feeling too tired or sick or hopeless to put on his arm warmers or care how people might react to his scars

10. Once someone gets saved as a favorite in Seb’s phone, they will almost definitely get a special ringtone. About the only exception to this is his sister-in-law, Linda, and that’s mostly because Seb is still scared of her, despite having known her since he was ~16, and thus, he doesn’t know her very well, and he feels like all his ideas just come down to, “I’m scared of you and that feels really mean.” But some of the other ringtones he’s given people are:

Pete: Natasha Richardson’s version of “Mein Herr” from Cabaret (because it’s Pete’s favorite version of his favorite song from his favorite musical)

Margot: “The World’s Greatest Criminal Mind” from The Great Mouse Detective

Todd: “Friday, I’m In Love” by The Cure (because one of the first things Seb and Todd bonded over was The Cure)

Nick: Judy Garland’s Carnegie Hall performance of “Somewhere Over The Rainbow”

Marceline, his Mom: Bernadette Peters’ version of “Everything’s Coming Up Roses”

Max: “I Don’t Want To Know” by Fleetwood Mac

Unbeknownst to Seb, his ringtone in Max’s phone is Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams,” which is another of the Stevie Nicks-penned numbers on their Rumours album, and yes, Max and Seb are aware that she wrote the songs about her romantic relationship with Lindsey Buckingham

But both of them suck at actually associating their songs of choice with romance at all, because they first and foremost associate Fleetwood Mac with Marceline

Adelaide: “Be Prepared” from The Lion King (he originally gave her, “This Corrosion” by The Sisters of Mercy, but Addie took exception to that)

Ambrose: “Magic Dance” by David Bowie, from Labyrinth — specifically, the, “you remind me of the babe!” “what babe?” “the babe with the power!” part, because Seb is a dweeb and has happy memories associating his middle brother with Labyrinth

He’s also a dweeb who still calls his middle brother, “Ambrosius,” which he started doing when they were kids and he was having a hardcore Labyrinth Thing

But Ambrose just calls him, “Sir Didymus” back, so it kinda balances out

Abe, his Dad: “The Flying Purple People Eater” (it’s probably better not to ask why this is one of their father-son things, because neither of them can explain it in any kind of succinct fashion that makes sense to anyone but them)

Abe also has a custom ringtone for Seb. He literally only learned how to get custom ringtones (read: asked Adelaide to please do it for him) so he could set Seb’s ringtone as, “Carry On, Wayward Son”

Seb is aware of this, but he really doesn’t know how he feels about it

Fr. Teddy: “Anthem” by Leonard Cohen

Stephen: currently has Aqua’s “Barbie Girl,” because he’s mentioned that it’s one of his favorite songs before, but after their eventual relationship upgrade, Seb’s going to change it to Whitney Houston’s, “I Wanna Dance With Somebody Who Loves Me,” which is higher up Stephen’s favorite song list and Seb feels like it’s more fitting for a boyfriend

……except that Pete knows the passcode into Seb’s phone and will amuse himself by periodically changing Stephen’s ringtone to The Divynyls’ “I Touch Myself” or George Michael’s “I Want Your Sex,” then moving Seb’s phone and pretending his is dead or charging so Seb has to ask Stephen to call it

This won’t always work out exactly how Pete wants, but he still tried, okay

Bonus fact (brought to you entirely by his headcanon casting and the, “I thought it was funny, so sue me” foundation): He doesn’t like sand. Or the beach. Especially not the beach. Like, sand is gross and it gets everywhere, and who the Hell decided to make, “sex on the beach” a romantic trope and what the fuck was wrong with them because it is actually terrible, there is sand in places where there ought not be sand, what is wrong with people — but the beach is even worse than the sand.


Seriously, when he and Julian were dating each other for the first time, they very nearly didn’t make it past the hurdle of, “Julian loves the beach and wants to drag Seb to the beach (and make Seb pretty please pay for it because his parents are “old as BALLS” money rich white people and Julian’s are middle-class white people from Minnesota), and ugh why do you want to stay home for spring break, who cares if Pete is in a play, he’ll forgive you for not going to opening night, I wanna go to the beach and you’re just trying to get out of going to the beach because you’re being difficult, you’re being obstinate, and you’re being difficult, and if we go to Pete’s play and don’t leave ‘til after his opening night, can we please please pleeeeease go to the beach”

Except that, rather than dealing with the fact that Julian was pushing him around (despite also being the one more open to compromise, for once), Seb just went, “No, my only objection is that I irrationally dislike the beach”


His aversion to going to the beach has only gotten worse since then, and only partially because he and Julian went to the beach for that spring break and Julian went, “Please, please, can we, please, please, please” about sex on the beach until Seb agreed to try it.

(They did not succeed in this effort, because Julian was confronted with the reality of having sex on the beach and went, “This is significantly less romantic and fun than I’ve been led to believe. ……Take me back to the hotel, I have sand in places where I don’t want for there to be sand :(” — but they still tried)


The other big part has to do with how much of a mess Seb’s arms are, and how many scars he has elsewhere, and how he wouldn’t even mind the fact that he burns super-easily (which he used to mind quite a bit), but he doesn’t want to deal with the questions that he can attract based on his scars, or with the way that people are super-unsubtle about trying not to look at his scars but still looking at them and giving him sad, pitying looks, or with wearing long sleeves and/or “leftover from when he had a Hot Topic mall goth phase” arm warmers at the beach and attracting attention because he’s doing that



—and in closing, this meme was hard because I felt torn between, “oh yeah, I have a lot of things to say about the little shit who started this whole series,” “oh, but do I talk about him too much already,” “oh, but what parts have I shared enough that I don’t need to anymore,” “oh, but which ones do I need to share for context,” “oh, but how much linking to things I’ve shared before can I get away with and not look conceited,” and the impulse to just go, “okay, you guys, look, I know he’s a mess, but he’s MY mess”

He’s kind of a disaster but he’s trying his best, okay

*: And here is the conversation in question, as evidence of how totally not subtle Stephen was being:

“Nothing, [Todd] didn’t… His and Pete’s friendship is founded on hating the same things and picking on each other.” Seb shook his head. “Pete doesn’t know what he’s talking about, though, okay?” he said. “I wasn’t with Todd last night. Or anybody. Except my dogs. I only had a, ‘baking ’til I felt tired, then spacing out to Catching All-Stars reruns until I finally nodded off’-style long night.”

“I know how that goes. Where it’s like…” Stephen smirked, and snickered. “Like, you’re trying to knock yourself out…” He failed to stifle a chuckle. “I mean, like…” He snorted, and ducked his head as he giggled. “Like, the kind of night when you need intellectual Novocaine instead of lullabies?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Seb laughed into his hand. “Being with somebody probably would’ve been better for me. Or worked sooner. I lost track of how long it took to get to sleep.”

“Yeah, well, if you wanted to have somebody, then I bet I could…” He was definitely leaning in, now. He bit his lip, glancing around like he felt guilty about something. “If you wanted, I could get you in bed by, I don’t know, eleven-thirty? Or like, whenever you want?”

“What, is that, like… an invitation?”

A glimmer sparked up behind Stephen’s eyes. His smile twinkled. Seb was the one leaning in, now, and Stephen’s mouth was right there, and—

“Well, I guess I’m inviting myself to get my own goddamn beverage, since you two are busy flirting.” Pete glowered and, elbowing between them, he said, “Stephen, you’re adorable, but if you’re gonna distract my Princess, then can you please just kiss him already.”

So, yeah. Like…… yes, Stephen botched the delivery because he isn’t that great at actually telling jokes, but he’s not being subtle about flirting with Seb right now and it’s completely fair for Pete to be exasperated as fuck with his Princess when Seb tries to go, “I bet Stephen’s just being nice, because he’s a nice person, not like he’s actually interested in me”


[sipstirgo]

Harry Potter World. My inner teenager was dying to stroll Hogsmeade and sip butter beer but the thought of going to Orlando left me cold. What is there to do in the land of amusement parks other than tour the parks, eat overpriced food and dodge worn out crying children? Well I can admit when I’m wrong and I was wrong about Orlando. There’s plenty to do. I was able to enjoy great food, creative cocktails and interact with super friendly folks. Add in the nonstop, cheap flight from RDU and Orlando made for a really great option for a long weekend away. Below are a few things I loved. I can’t wait to get back to discover more about this great diverse city.

The Reason for the Trip: Harry Potter World & Universal Studios

 There are 2 parts to this park – Hogsmeade & Daigon Alley. It’s worth it to do both. They are connected by the Hogwarts Express and the ride is different each way so make the roundtrip. We visited on a Monday and found the park full of adults in wizarding capes drinking beer – both butter and craft. Lunch at The Three Broomsticks (fish and chips, $15) was surprisingly good. There were 3 huge pieces of lightly breaded, flaky fish and a pile of thick cut steak fries. The meal was big enough to share between 2 hungry adults. After Harry Potter World we moseyed over  to Universal Studios. There you can take a stroll through Springfield and ride the Simpsons ride (awesome), check out Marilyn Monroe wooing the crowds and visit Cannery Row. There’s a ton to do and going on a weekday served us well as we waited on average 20 minutes to board rides as compared to the hours folks wait on weekends.

  Eat & Drink: A few of my favorites

 Hawkers Asian Street Fare, Pan-Asian small plates and a great assortment of beer. The dishes are actually sized for 2 people to share. None of this 3 items on a plate garbage that makes me so angry with tapas/small plates. Monday – Friday from 3-6 is Happy Hour with $3 craft beer and $3 small plates. Wednesdays you can bring your own bottle of wine with no corkage fee.

Linda’s La Cantina which confusingly is a steakhouse. 4721 E. Colonial Drive, around $30 for a massive ribeye, salad and baked potato. I had 4 meals from this steak. When I travel I want to visit the spots that have become institutions. Open since 1947 and consistently ranked as one of the best steakhouses in Orlando, Linda’s didn’t disappoint. It’s the sort of place I love – diner friendly service and perfectly prepared food with no frills. This spot isn’t fancy. I had planned to dress up for dinner since it was my birthday but looking around the room I’d have been the only person not in jeans. Spend the day touring Universal and then stroll in for a great steak dinner. Look at that char!

Il Pescatore, 651 N. Primrose Drive, around $15.00 for entrees that are shareable. This is the spot for no frills, homestyle Italian food. My eggplant parmesan was quite good and my boyfriend’s lasagna was also delicious. The eggplant wasn’t too heavily breaded, was cooked through but not mushy and wasn’t greasy. The ratio of eggplant to cheese and sauce was perfect and the sauce was really delicious. The meat in the lasagna was actually well seasoned which I attribute to the use of meatballs in the dish rather than plain ground beef.  There was a range of options for wine and I chose the house wine which paired perfectly with my meal. What made the meal however was our server. He was fantastic. He clearly took pride in the food, made great recommendations and I admit it, his heavy NY Italian accent was endearing. I was reminded of the Italian restaurants we went to in Little Italy when I was a kid.

Il Pescatore – eggplant parmesan

Il Pescatore – the lasagna was well seasoned and delicious.

Pho Vinh, 657 N. Primrose Drive, $10 or less for giant steaming bowls of pho. I had no idea Orlando had a large Vietnamese population. The result of this concentration of Vietnamese residents is that there is an area, Little Vietnam, full of stores and restaurants. We passed about 5 banh mi shops in a row interrupted by Asian markets and then there were noodle shops left and right. Heaven I tell ya. I can’t wait to return to Orlando to spend time eating my way through Little Vietnam. Pho Vinh offered steaming hot pho with the usual accompaniments. With so many places to choose from I imagine there are other spots for delicious pho as well but this place hit the spot. For more about Little Vietnam check out this blog post from Orlando Magazine. Sorry there’s no picture. Sometimes I am so focused on eating I forget the camera. That is a good thing.

The Courtesy Bar, 114 N. Orange Ave, Orlando

The Courtesy Bar 114 N. Orange Avenue. A fantastic whisky bar. This spot looks swanky but the bartenders are more dive bar than diva. This is not to say the service is any way lacking. It isn’t. Service was impeccable and blissfully came with no attitude. These folks were concerned with making sure I got the proper drink for my palate and that I had a good time. The cocktails were creative and delicious. They served a Sunday punch as well. It was citrusy, refreshing and had a well-balanced boozy bite. I could have spent hours hanging around the punch bowl and it made me realize I’ve really underestimated the beauty of a well made punch. Next party = punch bowl. An added bonus was that we were there on a Sunday afternoon when they have a regular barbecue buffet. To call it barbecue is not quite correct though. It was a free buffet of delicious barbacoa from Pig Floyd’s. The buffet had buns and tortillas, delicious well seasoned Cuban black beans, rice, cole slaw, various hot sauces and traditional barbecue sauces. This bar was fantastic!

Winter Park – skip over to this scenic manicured town for the day.

I love Tiffany glass and was surprised to learn the Morse Museum in Winter Park houses the world’s largest collection of Tiffany glass including Tiffany’s chapel interior.

When it’s time for lunch head to 4 Rivers Smokehouse, 1600 W. Fairbanks Boulevard. Two words – BURNT ENDS. Smoked, charred, chewy chunks of brisket with bits of fat nestled in a soft bun and drizzled with sauce. HOLY COW! My boyfriend got the Burnt Ends and I got the pork BBQ thinking we could share. My pork BBQ was good but hands down the burnt ends were the way to go. If I could I would pay money for them to ship me burnt ends. The sides were also delicious.

    After lunch head back to Park Avenue and pop in and out of boutiques making sure to walk down Welborne Avenue to visit the independent bookstore, Writer’s Block. Wrap up your afternoon at The Wine Room on Park Avenue. Buy yourself a tasting card and sample from the 156 available wines.

Stay: Homewood Suites, 8745 International Drive, Orlando

Conveniently situated near Universal Studios and a stones throw from wonderful restaurants, this hotel was a great home base. Rates were reasonable and included breakfast and afternoon receptions. What made our stay even better though was the staff. My boyfriend gave me a birthday card which I had displayed on a table in the room. Housekeeping saw the card and we returned that night to find the room decorated for my birthday, a card from the hotel and a basket of goodies. A customer service win!

GO: Orlando – Sunny Skies & Adult Fun Harry Potter World. My inner teenager was dying to stroll Hogsmeade and sip butter beer but the thought of going to Orlando left me cold.