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yellowocaballero · 5 years ago

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Not Your Queer-Coded Disney Villain: Annabelle & Web!Jon Ficlet

Got bored again today and forced myself to write something that wasn’t gratuitously long. Set in the same universe (or, one of the universes) as The Convention on Chronographer Lane, but it’s completely unnecessary to have read that one before this.

Content warning for (apparent and fake) predation of a student by a teacher, body horror, and spiders. REVERSE content warning for A PSYCH 101 LECTURE WRITTEN BY SOMEONE WHO WAS A TA FOR PSYCH 101. ACCURATE SCIENCE, BITCHES.

“What am I turning into?” Annabelle asked, after a half-second of rapid thought. “Who are you? And what do spiders have to do with any of this?”

Jon smiled again broadly, grey eyes dancing with a barely hidden delight. “You’re fully aware that these are all the same question.”

“Then answer them. You said you’re here to help me. Then help me.” Annabelle narrowed her eyes. “We’ll negotiate a price later.”

“This one is a freebie,” Jon said. He leaned back, face fading into the shadow of the dim yellow light of the hanging light. “You’re turning into something much akin to myself.”

In the darkness, Annabelle saw Jon open his eyes. And his eyes. And his eyes. And his eyes…

Annabelle was sleeping through Psych again.

In her defense, she was really tired. The nightmares had been getting worse every day, and yesterday she hadn’t gotten more than forty minutes of sleep without jolting up in the middle of the night. She had flipped on the light five times during the night, hysterically convinced that bugs were crawling over her and earning the eternal ire of her roommate. Whatever - Irene would forgive her once she bought her an iced coffee from that campus shop she liked. If Annabelle gave it to her later at night, she’d stay up later and would be less likely to bitch when Annabelle inevitably made a stink at three am again.

It didn’t matter. Psych was tediously easy anyway. Not that everything wasn’t tedious, but there were few things more boring than listening to the drone of Mr. Sims’ voice. She had no idea how that guy had a fanclub. Emmanuela Odugawa had asked her if she thought that he recited Piaget’s developmental stages in bed. Barf.

Thankfully, Annabelle had mastered the art of sleeping with her eyes open in class and barely aware enough to recognize when somebody called her name a decade ago, and she ruthlessly used this skill now. She dropped into a half-doze, and was only startled into awareness when she heard the word that had been running in a nonstop track loop through her mind for the past month.

“Phobia: an extreme or irrational fear or aversion to something.” Mr. Sims adjusted his glasses, pressing a button on his laptop that advanced the slides. “It’s an interesting definition, in my opinion. Like many things in Psychology, it is almost infuriatingly vague. How do you define ‘extreme’? How do you define ‘irrational’? Oftentimes, that label is determined by society, science, and our therapists. However, I believe you can argue that phobias are the most rational thing of all.”

Annabelle rubbed her arms, suddenly cold. These auditorium classrooms were always freezing.

“The concept of aversion is heavily rooted in evolution and biology. Anyone here ever eat any bad shrimp?” He didn’t wait for a response. “The smell of seafood probably made you sick for weeks afterwards. Our bodies are primed to detect poison, just as they are to detect danger. Phobias rooted in modern, abstract concepts - clowns, elevators, airplanes - are easy to extinguish. But phobias rooted in real, present, perpetual dangers, the sort of dangers that threatened the lives of cavemen, are far more difficult to ignore.”

Despite herself, Annabelle found herself awake. She found herself listening.

“Snakes. Heights. The Dark. Dogs, bears, large animals. Storms, driving, insects.” Mr. Sims’ looked up at the auditorium, and Annabelle could have sworn that he was looking right at her, he was looking at her. Annabelle’s breath caught, her heart thumping in her chest - a little differently than it used to. “Spiders.”

A horrible clicking echoed in Annabell’s ears. She was afraid that it was her.

Then he looked away, and the spell was broken. “Phobias are one of the most powerful and motivational forces in human evolution. Like mental illnesses, pack bonds, and emotional needs, the perceived weaknesses of the human mind can frequently be some of the most powerful forces that allow the survival of the human species. It isn’t a bug, it’s a feature. I find that a useful way to think of humanity, and of ourselves: that our weaknesses can make us very strong indeed. Next slide…”

If Mr. Sims said anything after that, Annabelle didn’t hear it.

She didn’t pay any attention to anything he said until the end of class, when she shrugged on her cute little silver backpack and merged into the stream of students filtering out of the classroom. A few students had stayed behind to talk to Mr. Sims, and he appeared wrapped in conversation with the giggling girls, but somehow he picked her out of the thick crowd.

“Annabelle?” Mr. Sims asked. “Stay after, please.”

So she leaned against the long sweep of desks, left with nothing to do but squint at Mr. Sims as he spoke with another student about the requirements for the upcoming paper, wondering why he looked so familiar.

All of the other students had assumed he was in his late twenties - “total DILF”, they all inanely assured her - but Annabelle wasn’t so sure. Despite the already graying hair, small glasses, and severe expression, she really wouldn’t put him any older than 23.

Maybe his greying temples were hair dye. Or stress did that to you, right? Annabelle squinted. But when Annabelle looked closer, if she really focused, then she really wasn’t sure it was his hair color at all.

So she looked closer. Her eyes had been itching for the past week. She had caught her skin flaking and peeling, and instead of pink raw skin underneath there was hard and scratchy black necrosis. Her eyes itched now, as if they were striving to split apart, and if Annabelle only let them then they would burst. And as her eyes itched in a horrible, visceral pain, she thought that maybe the white at Mr. Sims’ temples was the thin, sticky webs of spider-silk.

“Annabelle? Are you alright?”

She snapped back to attention, fairly embarrassed. She had been zoning out more in the past month than she had her entire life. Her older siblings had said that college would be rough, but she hadn’t known it would be this rough. This wasn’t like her. None of this was like her.

“I’m great,” Annabelle said reflexively. All of the other students were gone, and Mr. Sims was staring at her over his glasses. “Sorry. Is this about my test…?”

“No. You did quite well on your test. Best in the class, actually.” Mr. Sims smiled at her, as if this was a compliment or important. “Is that why you’ve been so bored in class?”

Ah. Busted. A rare thing for Annabelle. She affected a faux-abashed posture and expression. “Sorry, Mr. Sims. I’ve been staying up ‘til two every morning trying to get my homework done on time. If I’m ever going to go to med school…”

“I thought you were a poli sci major,” Mr. Sims said cheerfully. Annabelle fought a shudder - how did he know so much about her? This class had 200 students.

“Double major,” Annabelle said blithely. “I’m sorry about sleeping in class, I’ll manage my time better. It won’t happen again.”

“Yes, yes.” Mr. Sims waved her apology away, as if that wasn’t what he had been looking for. Then what had he been looking for? “I’m afraid I had somewhat of an ulterior motive for speaking to you today.” He leaned in a little, pulling his glasses down, and his foggy grey eyes - same color as the grey at his temples - focused solely on her. Annabelle made her eyes bigger, and she leaned in too, adjusting her posture so she looked smaller. “You’ve been doing very well in class. I actually wanted to invite you to a meeting. About...oh, your potential for med school. I’m excited to see you succeed. I think you could do quite well in whatever field you choose, and I’d like to help. It would be just us, of course.”

Ding ding ding. Annabelle affected a giggle. “I could totally use the help! Like, in your office? Or, like...lunch, or…?”

“I was thinking dinner, actually,” Mr. Sims smiled. “How’s Bombay Bicycle Club?”

Restaurant and bar, with a casual yet dignified atmosphere. Not formal enough to put up anybody’s guard, but nice enough that a freshman girl could feel treated and be impressed. Most importantly, it was popular among the businessman crowd and almost nobody on campus visited it. Annabelle used it herself to meet up with her sugar daddies all the time.

For a brief, strange moment, Annabelle felt as if he did - but of course he didn’t. But it wasn’t impossible. But if he knew, then why wasn’t he blackmailing her? Was the blackmail for later, once he got her alone? This was probably a power play, getting her off balance by insinuating that he knows but not being explicit about it. He’d probably pull out the blackmail, ‘I’ll ruin your reputation you slut etc’, once they actually got there. Not that he could - Annabelle had contingency plans - but she would have to be careful to actually record him propositioning her anyway. Worst case scenario they had a MAD situation, best case she could squeeze him. Probably not for very much money, since grad students were poor as dirt, and she didn’t exactly need him to boost her grades...get him to slip her the test key and sell the test key? That could work. She could probably get him to strategically cut grades, which was a service that Annabelle could probably sell to students with a grudge…

But then Mr. Sims smiled at her, as if he knew what she was thinking, and Annabelle realized that she had been silent too long. She wanted to come off as panicked, maybe desperate, definitely flattered.

“Sure!” Annabelle said, barely having to feign the anxious creak in her voice. “What time? I have night classes, so…”

“Next Friday at six,” Mr. Sims said instantly. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too.” Annabelle affected Smile #35 - shy virgin. Mr. Sims’ grin widened. Annabelle silently put aside the ‘Catholic schoolgirl’ outfit for Friday. “See you then!”

She turned around, gave him a shy smile, and bounced off. She had just opened the heavy door out of the room when she heard him speak again, freezing her in her tracks.

“Oh, Annabelle - how is the study with Dr. Bates going?”

And his question panicked her so much, made her heart change rhythm and made her skin itch as if something was straining to come out of it, made her eyes itch and crawl and burst, that every calculated move went out the window. She didn’t answer his question, didn’t even give an excuse - she just ran out the door, bright purple vintage boots thumping against the linoleum, breath catching in a chest where she was no longer sure she even had ribs.

Most of her was already calculating. She was already two months into uni, she had to start establishing her power base. The minute her sorority accepted her she’d have greater access to money, popularity, and influence, but she needed reach with the administration too. Mr. Sims was her in. This was a good thing.

But part of her was disappointed, because she had liked him, and she felt a little used. Feelings of disgust, as strong and vivid as in her nightmares, rose in her chest. She squished far down in her chest, familiar with the feeling and effortlessly repressing it.

Annabelle was good with disgusting things.

She had another session with the Arachnophobia study on Monday. Which went fine. It was fine! She didn’t wake up that morning so sick with nerves that she almost threw up. She didn’t stare at her email inbox for thirty minutes, begging herself to cancel and drop out of the study. Nope.

She distracted herself by befriending all of her roommate’s friends and dropping faux-concerned gossip about how cranky and anxious Irene’s been lately, have you noticed she’s been blaming me for how badly she’s sleeping? It was really super sad, frowny face, how do you think I can help, frowny face frowny face frowny face?

So Annabelle went to the Arachnophobia study (it was fine), had increasingly realistic and vivid nightmares about her chest caving in and a nest of spiders crawling out of her chest and eating her eyes, and slept through class. It was all fine.

She should have gone to Oxford. It still made her a little bitter. She had been smart enough to get in, but she hadn’t been smart enough to get the full scholarship. She couldn’t afford it, so instead she was stuck in University of Surrey, where dreams went to die. Future politicians should go to Oxford. Yeah, Surrey had some peers and Parliament members, whatever. She needed better, Oxford and awards and money. From there, from some swotty school or another, it was easy street. Annabelle deserved easy street, and she deserved Oxford, and it just wasn’t fair -

After another three am nightmare, Annabelle blearily scrolled through her sibling groupchat. Barney was doing great in med school. Tricia had posted her maternity photos. Wow, look at that, Robin had gotten a commendation at his law firm. Whatever.

No hope of distinguishing herself in the world. No hope of distinguishing herself in her stupid family. She was smarter than any of her siblings, brighter and better than those doctors and lawyers and accountants, but nobody cared. Mum and Dad were living their retirement in comfort and cooing over their grandchildren, finally rewarded in old age for all their hard work.

If Annabelle dropped off the face of the earth, nobody would even notice.

It should have been a depressing thought. The idea that nobody cared about her, not really, that nobody knew the real her. But somehow it just made her heart beat faster in excitement.

The idea of disappearing from all of this, of cutting herself free from a thousand threads that brought her plummeting down to earth...in the cold hours of that dark morning, to an eighteen year old terrified and alone in uni, it was a siren song.

It was a siren song that sounded, oddly, like the chittering and scuttling of a thousand tiny bodies, but Annabelle was learning to look beyond that.

By the time next Friday rolled around, Annabelle was considering breaking her self-imposed rule against drugs and popping a Xanax. But that wouldn’t help her exhaustion, the persistent bone-deep frazzled sensation of going a week on almost no sleep whatsoever, so she settled for an espresso as she wriggled herself into a tight, slinky plaid dress paired with a puffy olive green windbreaker. She wasn’t sure if she owned any clothing that was made after 1990 - a habit born from a childhood of shopping from thirst stores, and continued voluntarily into high school when she started making her own money online fleecing suckers. It was her, so much as anything was.

“Hot date?” Irene asked, bending over her Physics textbook without looking up. She glanced at her vibrating phone, scowling. Poor baby - her friends were staging an intervention. “New guy or old guy?”

“New guy,” Annabelle said vaguely, carefully picking out a bold red lipstick - or did that seem too forward? Should she go for a natural look? “If I’m not back by midnight call the police. I’ll text you a picture of his car.”

“Roger.” Irene flipped a page of her textbook, oblivious to the fact that she was one of the few people Annabelle genuinely liked. Not enough not to screw with her, but she liked her. “He’s not good enough for you, something something.”

“Darling,” Annabelle said, winking into the mirror, “nobody is.”

She hoped Irene believed it. She didn’t.

It wasn’t a frequent occurrence that Annabelle wished she was stupid, but today she wished she was stupid enough to take a power nap during her ten minute Uber ride. Her mind felt frazzled and frayed, as if it had been taken out of her scalp and spread out with a rolling pin onto a floured countertop. She felt as if she was melting, her vision spiralling into fractals or blurring out. She wanted to sleep. God, she’d do anything for some sleep -

So she blared Bad Romance in her frayed earbuds instead, clutching her iPod Touch tightly, pulling herself together. Gaga, give her strength.

By the time that she tipped her driver, effortlessly found Mr. Sims’ car in the parking lot of Bombay Bicycle Club and texted Irene the license plate (Volkswagen, obviously), she had dragged herself into focus. She stapled on her confident posture and walk - no, we’re going with ingenue today, make it shy and hesitant - and slipped inside the restaurant, making a show of holding her clutch tight to her chest and looking around with big eyes.

She saw him instantly. He was sitting in a corner booth, head down and texting on his phone with a half-smile. The corner booth was poorly lit, light dampened by the wood panelling and soft leather seats, and half of his face was draped in shadow.

Great. She had even arrived ten minutes early just so she could pick a brightly lit, intimate little table in the center of the room. This guy - he was almost like her. He was almost like her, but he was better.

Annabelle fought the urge to grind her teeth. She smiled instead, waving cheerfully until he raised his head. He smiled back at her, wriggling his fingers, and Annabelle wove around the tables until she could slide into the seat across from him.

“This is cozy!” She said brightly. “Thank you so much for inviting me out, Mr. Sims. It’s been ages since I got away from my books -”

“Oh, cut that shit out,” Mr. Sims said, bored. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”

Annabelle’s mind shut down. Error 404, blue screen of death.

“I’m sorry,” she said pleasantly, smile frozen on her face. “What?”

But Mr. Sims just shrugged listlessly, slumping against the cushioned wall. His expression was no longer fond, indulgent, haughty. He just looked bored now, as if he was too tired and underpaid to deal with eighteen year olds. “I don’t want to sit through this entire dinner fending off flirting. We have actual business to talk about, and I am uninterested in beating around the bush when there’s no point. You aren’t even subtle.”

“Excuse me -” Annabelle started, enraged, but Mr. Sims put up a hand and cut her off.

The change was instant. On a dime, Mr. Sims straightened his posture, swept a finger through his hair to transform it from slicked back professor type to windswept, adopted a friendly and casual expression, and leaned in as if he was happy and excited to be sitting with Annabelle. In a moment he dropped ten years. Barely a second after his transformation the waiter approached them, holding a notepad, and Annabelle realized with a start that he had noticed the waiter coming before she did.

“How are you two doing tonight?” the waiter asked politely, smiling at the both of them in a rote routine that Annabelle remembered from her own days waitressing.

“Doing great!” Mr. Sims said, and even his accent was different, closely matching her own. He glanced back at Annabelle, nothing but open and friendly. “Mum says get whatever you want, dork. It’s on her bill, so let’s run her out of house and home.”

Instinctually, Annabelle shot back, “Aren’t you old enough to take me out to eat with your own money, loser?”

“Not with your stomach!” Mr. Sims laughed, and the waiter chuckled along too. Mr. Sims effortlessly rapped out an order for the waiter, before Annabelle even got a chance to look at the menu, and when she floundered Mr. Sims just rolled his eyes and ordered for her too. It was, somehow, her favorite food.

He waited for the waiter to move onto the next table, eyeing him carefully, before he let the persona drop. Mr. Sims sagged again, dropping the friendly act, sizing her up from half-lidded eyes.

“How did he even believe that,” Annabelle said flatly. “We don’t look anything alike.”

“White people will believe anything,” Mr. Sims said, rolling his eyes. “I have the Belgian government convinced I’m an Iraqi scientist and most high profile Australian celebrities think I’m Egyptian royalty.”

“...does Egypt have -”

“Nope.”

Annabelle was beginning to feel a little like the star actress in the school play who got upstaged in every way by the villain’s performance. Nobody did what she did. Nobody did what she did, but better.

“Don’t feel insecure,” Mr. Sims said, as if he could read her mind. “I’m a good actor, and I’m excellent at reading people. But I can’t plan or plot like you do. I’m shit at thinking three steps ahead, much less thirty. You can keep plots and schemes going for years - decades, even, if I were to guess. I’m not sure how someone as competent as you can have self-esteem issues.”

Annabelle bristled. “You try having nobody care about you for - how do you even know that shit about me?” Something terrible occurred to her. “Are you some kind of stalker, Mr. Sims?”

Mr. Sims shuddered in real disgust. “It’s Jon. And no, of course not. You just aren’t as subtle as you think you are.”

Yes, she was. She was subtle to everyone on the planet - everyone save, maybe, Jon. Annabelle narrowed her eyes. “What do you want?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Jon said immediately.

“Liar. Everybody wants something.”

“I’m here altruistically,” Jon said, the perfect picture of innocence. “Really. I’m here to help you, Annabelle.”

“You are stalking me.” Annabelle leaned forward, but Sims didn’t move. “Are you even a real graduate student?”

“Absolutely not. I’m twenty three, I got my Psych degree last year and I’ve been bouncing odd jobs since.” Jon shrugged, as Annabelle felt silently vindicated. Nothing about this man acted like a twenty three year old - she remembered her siblings at twenty-three, there was nothing adult about them - but it was probably just another persona. She wondered how far she’d have to scratch to get to the real Jon Sims.

“So you were just at Surrey to spy on me,” Annabelle said slowly. “I don’t know what country you’re from, but in England that’s definitely stalking.”

“I’d call it scouting,” Jon said. The waiter dropped by to place their drinks on the table - Jon had gotten a mule for himself, and he had ordered water for Annabelle in a move uncharacteristic for a sketchy guy. He waited until the waiter left to continue. “Call me a recruiter.”

“For who? What kind of job recruiter teaches a class for two months just to get to me?”

“How’s your study with Dr. Blake going, Annabelle?” Jon said, almost randomly, and Annabelle shut up. He must have seen something in her eyes, because a sharp little grin stretched in the corner of his narrow and sharp face. “Thought so. What do you dream of, Annabelle? In the cold corners of night, what fears come to life in the dark recesses of your mind?”

Maybe, Annabelle thought inanely, this was a dream too. Just an extended nightmare, one she hadn’t woken up from. It felt like that: distant and strange, hyper-real and unreal. This strange man sitting in front of her, who swapped faces so easily even Annabelle couldn’t keep up, was far too out of place to truly exist.

Or maybe he was the first real person she had met in a very long time.

Jon continued talking, as if she had responded. Maybe she had. “I am not a hero in this story. If I was, I would have come earlier. I would have deleted your name from the pool of subjects, and I would have made it so that you never got that call.” Jon looked away from her for the first time, letting a little sadness show on his face. “I couldn’t. No - no, I could have, I simply chose not to. You’re important, Annabelle. And I didn’t want to rob you of something that you may grow to treasure. I’m afraid that the choice you make now may not be much of a choice at all - but, perhaps, there is still a chance. At the very least, I would like to make this transition a little easier for you. It is a terrible thing, to have to do it alone.”

That…

“That was so vague it was completely meaningless.”

Jon barked a laugh, strangely delighted. “It’s not fair to speak in circles to somebody who’s gone a week without sleep!”

“But you’re doing it on purpose,” Annabelle said, too dead inside to feel mad.

“Oh, absolutely. I am not taking the risk of taking you on at full power.” Jon smiled at her, as if they were friends sharing a joke. “I saw what you did to that Walker boy in secondary.”

Despite herself, Annabelle smiled. “Hear he gets out on parole in five.” Something else occurred to her, a bit belatedly. “You are stalking me!”

“Does a spider stalk the fly that strikes a string on its web?” Jon asked cheerfully. “Or is it simply investigating an encroachment into its territory?”

“Does that mean that you’re going to eat me?” Annabelle said archly. “Thought you said you didn’t want to fuck me. Rude, by the way.”

Almost hilariously, Jon wrinkled his nose. “Sex is a waste of time, resources, and my attention. Can’t imagine why people are so obsessed.”

“I know, right!” Annabelle burst out, before she could help herself. “Do you have any idea how much money I get a month from guys just to talk to me? It’s like they’re aliens! Why do people fuck or date if it’s not to manipulate someone?”

“Right! It’s ridiculous.”

It was the first time anybody had ever agreed with her on that. It was the first time she had even told anybody she felt that way. For a brief second, Annabelle felt connected to Jon. It was the first time that happened in...a very long time.

Jon was the first person Annabelle had ever met who was like her. Everybody in Annabelle’s life had always been either useful or useless. Jon seemed above that, somehow. To be beyond utility, to exist on your own power...what did that look like? To be the powerful, instead of the powerless?

No matter how hard she tried, no matter how many puppet strings Annabelle tied around her fingers, she was never powerful. Not really. She was eighteen, from a nothing family, and no matter how many molehills she made herself queen of she would never rule the mountain. She couldn’t get as far as she wanted with what she had. The only reason she had even volunteered for the stupid Arachnophobia experiment was because she needed to crush out weakness in herself, erase the hidden flaws in her mind.

But Jon said her flaws were strengths. What made her weak could be turned into power.

Annabelle needed more, more, more. She needed everything, if she was to have anything. She needed what Jon had.

Everything Annabelle said had a purpose. Every word she used was chosen carefully, every little gesture or body language was calculated. She said nothing without thinking, and she could do it so quickly nobody even noticed. Jon would notice, a con man as perfect as she was.

Let him. Give her two straight days to sleep, and they’d have a real battle of wits. In the meantime, she just had to pick her questions strategically.

“What am I turning into?” Annabelle asked, after a half-second of rapid thought. “Who are you? And what do spiders have to do with any of this?”

Jon smiled again broadly, grey eyes dancing with a barely hidden delight. “You’re fully aware that these are all the same question.”

“Then answer them. You said you’re here to help me. Then help me.” Annabelle narrowed her eyes. “We’ll negotiate a price later.”

“This one is a freebie,” Jon said. He leaned back, face fading into the shadow of the dim yellow light of the hanging light. “You’re turning into something much akin to myself.”

In the darkness, Annabelle saw Jon open his eyes. And his eyes. And his eyes…

All eight of Jon’s glittering black eyes shone in the darkness, straining her own and making her head thump. It was wrong, outside of humanity or reality, and it felt as if the very sight was straining the fabric of her delicately maintained life so tight it would tear. It felt as if it was tearing her, right in two, ruining her forever. Her eyes felt like they were going to burst out of her head.

She didn’t want to know what would replace them. But she had the feeling that she already did.

“Then what,” Annabelle gritted out, “are you?”

“I am the eldest and most treasured Son of the Mother of Spiders,” Jon said. He smiled at her, just a little, almost apologetic. “Sorry about that. I know you’ve always wanted to be an only child.”

Ah. Duh. Obviously. She should have known.

“...do I want to know who the Mother of Spiders is?”

“Your mother, should you choose to accept her,” Jon said cheerfully, leaning back into the light, and his face was normal again. Human as ever. Strange and foreign as ever - possibly everything, possibly nothing. “I know you aren’t strictly in the market for adoption, but you may not have much of a choice. You’ve felt her scratching beneath her skin. She’s going to tear out of you, and soon. Did you know some species of wasp lay their eggs in the body of spiders to provide food for the grubs?”

“During the next experiment,” Annabelle said dully, already filtering out Jon’s useless tidbits of information. That was a guy who spoke for the sake of hearing himself talk. “That’s when it’s happening. When I’ll...change.”

“Yes. It’s a painful process,” Jon said, and it was almost apologetic. “My own happened when I was fifteen - quite young, all things considered. I still remember the sound of my bones snapping as -”

“Don’t.”

“Of course! Anyway, I thought I’d make sure you had...to use the psych term, informed consent, before you entered the crucible. Our - my, sorry - Mother often foregoes true consent in our operations. The beauty of nature!” Jon laughed, as Annabelle felt sick. “Agnes wanted to put together a pamphlet, but then we let Gerry go wild on the clipart and...well, it’s better if I just explain. I can’t give you the full story now, but I’ll tell you as much as your mind can comprehend.”

Annabelle wasn’t sure she could even comprehend this. It was so much, and she was so tired. She had just heard that her body was going to rupture like a cocoon and give birth to a giant spider that may or may not also be her, and all she could think about was the fact that she wanted to go back to bed. Somehow, all she could ask was -

“Why?” She asked, so stupid and pointless, as if she was stupid, as if she wasn’t her at all. “Why are you doing this?”

“It’s like I said.” In the dim yellow lighting, Jon’s eyes glittered pure black, and in that brief and stupid second Annabelle felt as if they were the same in that way. “Nobody should have to go through this alone and ignorant.” Then the moment was over, and his eyes were a human grey again, just left of normal. “Besides. Siblings stick together, right?”

“I hardly need more siblings,” Annabelle snapped.

“You’re about to lose seven of them real soon,” Jon promised, extremely worryingly, “so I’d take what you can get right now, Annabelle.”

“Are you going to kill -”

“Unfortunately, you may have to fake your own death!”

Then their food came, and Annabelle received her first lesson in the class of hard knocks.

They talked for hours. It took hours, to even just get a picture of the story. Jon was patient, answering every question, and Annabelle strained so hard trying to fight through her exhaustion, trying to understand the answer, Jon’s motivation in answering it or what he could be leaving out, that by the end of it she felt as if she had run a marathon. She had never felt so tired in her life, in the most dangerous situation in her life, with the most dangerous person she had ever met.

By the end of it, Irene was texting her to ask if she was dead, and Annabelle was falling asleep at her chair. Jon cut an end to their conversation when he slid out his wallet, covered the bill with a black Amex card, and slid a business card against the table. Annabelle squinted down at it.

The text in the center just said [FREELANCERS]. That was it. She stared at it.

Underneath the vague word, she saw a phone number [555-555] and an email [[email protected]]. Annabelle looked up to stare at Jon. “Are you for real?”

“Almost never,” Jon said cheerfully, “but the card will make sense when it needs to. Let me take you back to your dorm, alright? You can get some sleep in the car.”

If he was a creep, she was dead anyway. Annabelle didn’t bother arguing. She grabbed her jacket and got in the passenger seat of his car, and true to his word Annabelle drifted asleep almost immediately. She even felt as if the ride took longer than ten minutes, as if he drove in circles just waiting for her.

For the first time in a week, Annabelle slept uninterrupted, and had no dreams.

Annabelle wanted what Jon had.

And a week later, she took it.

Shivering in an alley, clothing ripped to shreds, her own skin hanging off her triple jointed limbs, she dug out a creased and torn business card. She had been worrying at it intensely over the weekend, staring and it and clenching it tightly as if it was her only lifeline. It was, of course. But Jon had known that.

The card looked different now. The text now looked handwritten, but with a beautiful and old-timey slanted handwriting. It now just read:

‘To Annabelle, with love. From your new friends Gerry, Jon, and Agnes’. There was a number underneath, and Annabelle frantically dug in her tattered leather jacket pocket to draw out her cracked phone.

Annabelle hated taking favors from people. Everything she had, she had fought for herself. She would scrape, borrow, beg, and steal whatever she had to. But, when it came to siblings...maybe, then, it was okay.

Dizzily, as Annabelle let the phone ring, she thought: this is my supervillain origin story.

The thought sent a slow smile crawling across her inhuman and warped face.

Sounds like fun.

#AROACE ANNABELLE RIGHTS #tma #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfiction #annabelle cane #jonathan sims #web!jon #realized while writing evilcon that annabelle was seven while jon was twelve #and that their sibling relationship must be a NIGHTMARE #anyway i'm trying to convince myself not to write a web!jon agnes and gerry fic where its basically a leverage au #and i am failing miserably #so i wrote this instead of that #GRIFTER!JON AND IN THIS ESSAY I WILL #my writing

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master-sass-blast · 6 years ago

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Decisions, Decisions --Redux.

This probably sucks, but whatever. It’s done. #depressionsucks

Summary: Piotr’s POV on a previous fic, “Decisions, Decisions” (https://master-sass-blast.tumblr.com/post/181952711276/decisions-decisions).

Rating: M for injuries, mentions of abuse, near death experiences, gunshot wounds, and angst.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader and Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson.

@marvel-is-perfection

The day starts out normally enough --though, his mother had always said that if bad days always started out bad, you’d start learning the signs so you could stand a chance against them, and that’d never happen because the universe never play fair.

It starts at a high point, admittedly. Listen to Wade’s antics --especially when he doesn’t have to clean up after the merc--is always amusing, and getting to help you with your band-aid is sweetly domestic and oddly endearing.

And then Nathan walks through the back door with none other than Frank Castle.

Maybe his mother was wrong. Maybe the universe does give signs for bad days.

He walks into the men’s locker room, already prepped and ready for the mission into Hell’s Kitchen.

A risky mission. A risky, dangerous mission that, while likely to save lives, will also undoubtedly end them.

He scowls as he listens to Wade jabber while Nathan and Frank get ready in a more practical fashion; Nathan seems amused --or endeared, or more likely both--while Frank is rolling his eyes every two seconds, and under normal circumstances Piotr might find that amusing, but now--

“You alright?” Nate asks when he notices Piotr scowling.

He hesitates for a moment, then opts for honesty. “I think this is bad idea.”

“Pete-y pie!” Wade chirps through the mask, inanely cheerful. “Cheer up, buttercup! We’re just gonna go in, un-alive a few baddies, and save the poor unfortunate souls they trafficked! No big deal.”

He tries to keep from grinding his teeth together --armor or not, it’s just not good for his teeth or his jaw. He never changes. No matter what we do for him or how much help we provide, he never grows past his need to kill. “The X-Men do not kill.”.

“Christ,” Frank growls as he pinches the bridge of his repeatedly broken and re-healed nose. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna bitch about that. You honestly think these shitbags deserve to live?”

“Save it for now,” Nathan says, taking control of the situation. “Do you have a tactical concern?”

“Why do you want Y/N on this mission?” Piotr asks. “And me? What do we add to the team?”

“We need an official X-Men representative to take care of the trafficking victims; your armor means that you’ll be the least vulnerable given the situation.”

“Y/N does not have armor.”

“She’s handling recon--”

“Enough, Nathan.” Piotr looks the older --younger?--man dead in the eye. “We both know that recon could be handled without Y/N. Why is she coming?”

“Her power set’ll come in handy on the mission. Make it easier to get in and out without so much bloodshed.” Nate arches an eyebrow at him, questioning and challenging all at once. “I thought you’d be all over that.”

Piotr purses his lips. He knows he’s on the losing side of this argument --it’s your choice to go, after all, and you made it freely--but he still can’t shake the feeling that this is an extremely bad idea. “I just think that, given her history with firearms, this might not be best mission for her.”

That gets Frank’s attention. The former marine goes from prepping his weapons and rolling his eyes to watching the two men with a level of scrutiny so intense it’s almost uncomfortable. “Is there something I’m missing? Are we taking a suicidal person on this mission?”

“No,” Nathan growls. “Give me a little more credit than that, Castle.”

“Well, outside of that, I’m not sure what kinda issues she’d have with guns--”

“She grew up in anti-mutant community, was hunted by men with rifles whenever she tried to escape,” Piotr says, maybe a little too eager to turn the argument in his favor --but also keen to protect your privacy.

Frank’s jaw rolls, and one of his fingers twitches. “Christ. And you’re worried that she’ll have flashbacks?”

“Something like that.”

“She hasn’t shown any signs of reacting to gunfire before,” Nathan argues. “And she had every opportunity to say ‘no’ to going on this mission.”

“Bullshit,” Frank spits out. “That’s not how triggers work. It’s not always an ‘across the board’ thing.”

Before anyone else can argue, there’s a pounding on the door that leads to the main hangar. “Hey!” you shout. “Are you guys ready yet? We need to go!”

“We’re out of time to argue,” Nathan says as he finishes loading up his various weapons. “We’ve got people to save.”

Things don’t just go South. They go completely inside out.

You get caught and you get shot, and you go down and can’t get up to protect yourself.

And then, just like he’d known --feared--you slip into an episode.

Next to him, Frank flinches when your scream rips through the speaker in his ear. “What the fuck? What’s happening?”

Piotr grits his teeth and darts forward. “What I thought would.”

There’s another scream that echoes into the night, and then the sound of something metal slamming into another metal object. Gunfire follows, which is then followed by the sound of men --lots of men--screaming.

Frank hisses through his teeth as he moves forward with Piotr. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“It isn’t.” He starts running towards the sounds of screaming, gritting his teeth as he feels wind whipping around him. D’ermo.

There’s another burst of wind, and then one of the massive shipping containers lifts off the ground and hurtles straight towards them.

“Get behind me!” Piotr shouts at Frank, then lifts his arms to deflect the container.

Frank lets out a stream of swear words as the container bounces away across the dock. “What the fuck is going on? What’s your girlfriend doing?”

Trying to survive. He blocks the remains of a car flying towards them. “I’ll make sure nothing big hits us. Keep the traffickers off our back. We need to get to Y/N before she destroys the dock.”

“She can do that?” Frank shouts as he follows him.

“You are surprised?” he shouts back as he deflects another shipping container.

“Not really.”

He grimaces as Frank unleashes a hail of bullets at a couple of traffickers, and focuses on moving towards the sounds of your screaming. We need to finish this. Now.

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to wait long --or at all, really.

Unfortunately, it’s because of you.

The rest of the containers are ripped off the ground, flung away to various points on the dock, knocking out some of the traffickers and almost hitting Nathan and Neena along the way.

You’re on your knees, screaming as you curl in on yourself. There’s a visible sphere of air around you, swirling and spinning to create a shield between you and the rest of the world.

His heart clenches in his chest as he watches you grip at your hair. “Wade!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it!”

Before he can do anything, though, you lift up your head and shriek.

A shockwave crashes across the dock, slamming into him and everything --everyone--else in its path.

He groans as he hits the pavement with a clang, digs one hand into the concrete with one hand as the winds threaten to toss him across Hell’s Kitchen, and latches onto an airborne Frank with the other.

You slowly lift off the ground, surrounded by a sphere of wind --for a moment, an inane, distracted part of his brain is reminded of Aang from the series finale of ‘Avatar: The Last Airbender’--and scream again. Chunks of concrete rip from the dock, flying into the air--

And then they drop back down to the ground as the wind dies out, and you drop down with them seconds later, hitting the pavement limply with a thud.

“Shit,” Frank hisses as he hits the ground, and then he’s up and running.

Piotr moves a little slower --he has to extract his hand from the concrete of the dock--which gives him time to see the sheer and utter carnage around him.

Blood. Everywhere. Dripping from battered, smashed bodies, staining the pavement, sprayed across the dented containers like raindrops.

“She’s bleeding out!”

Frank’s shout makes him go completely still, and then he’s armoring down and sprinting towards you.

Frank has his hands on your leg, pressing down against a steady stream of blood. “We need to get her to a hospital.”

“There are healers at the mansion,” Nathan starts as he ushers the surviving trafficking victims towards the jet.

“The bullet’s probably hit her femoral. She needs a fucking hospital.”

You let out a gasp, and then your fist comes up and slams into Frank’s face. Hard.

He reels back, startled more than anything else.

You stumble to your feet, shaky and pale but still fighting. “No, no, no, no!”

Piotr lunges after you, wraps a hand around your arm and doesn’t let go. “Myshka, please--”

Wade sprints towards you and clasps a mutation repression collar around your neck before scooping you into his arms. “Alright, sis, let’s go.”

Things go from bad to worse on the jet.

“She’s flat-lining!”

He may as well be too, for all the good his heart does him when he hears Frank’s shout.

Nathan’s in the cockpit, pushing the jet as fast as he can given that they’re in city limits. “We’re twenty minutes out from the mansion--”

“She’s dying, Summers, she needs a fucking hospital!”

“She’s a mutant, Castle! Hospitals don’t take us!”

He can hear himself screaming --coordinates to a hospital he knows has worked with Xavier before and taken cases too difficult for the healers at the mansion to handle--and feel the jet veer accordingly, but he can’t connect to it. All he can feel --all he’s connected to--is your hand in his, limp and clammy and too cold for comfort. He’s cupping the side of your face, murmuring pleas into your hairline--

Crying. He’s crying. Crying and shaking like a leaf and terrified.

He sees a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye and realizes it’s Frank, tying a tourniquet around your leg.

“Don’t worry, Rasputin. We’ll get your girl there in one piece.”

You’re barely holding on by the time they reach the hospital.

Two groups of nurses come running out --a larger one for the trafficking victims, and a smaller set with a gurney for you. The smaller group scoops you up and whisks you away through a set of doors.

He waits until the trafficking victims are inside, out of sight and earshot, and then--

And then he hauls off and punches Nathan, straight across the face.

Neena’s fast to get between them, while Frank grabs onto his arm and Wade helps Nate up. “Whoa! Easy!”

“What did I tell you?” Piotr shouts. “What did I say?”

Nathan glares at him as he wipes blood off his upper lip. “I didn’t know this would happen, Piotr.”

“You knew she was compromised, Summers,” Frank spits out. “You knew she had issues--”

“She’s been on missions before; she was cleared!” Nathan shouts back. “Do you really think I’d bring her along if she wasn’t?”

“I said this mission would be too dangerous!” Piotr snaps --screams. “That she was not ready for something like Hell’s Kitchen! That it was too risky!”

“She made her choice, Piotr.”

“And you let her.”

Nathan spreads his hands. “What did you want me to do? I’m not her babysitter, Piotr! She’s capable of making her own damn choices!”

“There is difference between our missions and Hell’s Kitchen. I expect you to know that and choose your team accordingly! Y/N is not assassin, and she has no training for dealing with men like traffickers --let alone those that frequent Hell’s Kitchen. You knew that, and you asked her anyway.”

“Piotr--”

“You put a fucking greenhorn on the mission, Summers,” Frank growls. “You under-prepped a member of your team. That’s on you.”

Nathan rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, but nods. “Okay, yeah. I made a mistake. What do you want me to do about it? It happened, we’re here; I can’t take it back, I can’t change anything!”

Piotr scowls and shakes his head. “I could lose her because of your oversight. I could lose the rest of my life--” his voice breaks, and he has to stop to catch his breath “--because of your choices.”

Nathan sighs, heavy and hard. “Piotr, I’m sorry--”

He shakes his head again and walks down the ramp of the jet towards the hospital. “You need to think more carefully about who you bring into your war, Cable. Not everyone is meant to be soldier.”

You look peaceful, sleeping in the hospital bed. One of the nurses must have neatened up your hair a little, fanned it out over the pillow so it wouldn’t get tangled. You’re still too pale for comfort, but all your vitals are registering strong on the monitor. Normal.

He sighs, takes hold of your hand, and presses his lips against your knuckles.

There’s the sound of heavy boots against the floor, and then Frank’s hovering at the threshold of your room. “She okay?”

He nods. “We got here in time. The doctors say she should wake in little while.”

Frank nods, then crosses over to him and holds out a little envelope. “For when she wakes up. I can’t stick around.”

“Thank you.” He pockets the card, then looks up at the mass-murder standing next to your bed. “Why take my side?”

Frank’s mouth pulls down in a grimace. “I’ve been at the command of guys who didn’t do right by their men before. That shit doesn’t sit right with me.”

He sighs and rubs his face with his free hand. “Cable isn’t--”

“He’s not the jackass to end all jackasses, but he fucked up.” Frank shrugs. “He fucked up and we almost got killed for it. I got issues with that.”

Piotr purses his lips. “I don’t think it is that simple.”

“Maybe not for you. Is for me.” Frank turns and walks back out of the room, then stops halfway. “Does she know you love her?”

Piotr huffs out a laugh. “Da. She is my partner, Frank.”

“People connect to each other in a thousand different ways without ever telling each other how they feel, Rasputin.”

That’s true. “She and I are getting married, once she gets better.”

Frank looks at him over his shoulder. “People don’t get better from that kinda shit. Not really.”

“She wants... diagnosis first. For why she... has her issues.”

“You mean it’s not PTSD?”

“We’re not sure. She has side effects that... do not fall into any illness or injury classification. We are still looking for answers.”

Frank takes a moment to process that, then nods. “I’m rooting for the two of ya. Take care, Rasputin.”

“Try to stay out of trouble, Mr. Castle.”

Frank laughs, harsh and bitter, as he walks out into the hallway again. “That’ll be the day.”

Piotr shakes his head --the man’s not wrong--and focuses on you again. He clasps your hand between his and kisses your fingers. And now, all we do is wait.

He has a lot of time to think while he waits.

The first thing he figures out is that Cable’s mission isn’t compatible with the X-Men’s practices. As much as the man may have a point, the X-Men don’t fight wars; their mission is to help the rest of the world see a different facet of mutant-kind, one that doesn’t put mutants on an instant kill list, and help take care of mutant kids and train them how to control their powers. War isn’t something the X-Men can do.

If Cable’s going to keep fighting his war --and it’s one that needs to be fought, Piotr’s not afraid to admit that--he can’t keep dragging the X-Men into it. They’re just not trained or equipped for the same level of fighting.

You’ve proved that. You shouldn’t have had to.

The second thing he figures out is that Nathan should’ve never dragged you, the X-Men, and Frank Castle into the same circles. Flat out. As much as Wade likes to bitch about images, the X-Men do have to think about them. They work with children, and they need to stay above board to keep doing that.

And you, well, you’ve had bounty hunters sicced on you by your parents before, and your uncle is a former non-voluntary government operative. The quieter things stay for you, the better, and Frank Castle is the opposite of quiet. Basic logic.

The third thing he figures out is that if Wade and Nathan are going to keep working jobs that the likes of Frank Castle works, they can’t stay at the X-Mansion. Basic logic. Again.

He’s too fuzzy, adrenaline long since worn off, to contemplate anything past that. He slowly nods off in the chair next to your bed, jerking awake every few minutes to check the vitals on your monitor, to make sure that you’re still alright.

The last thing he thinks of before he falls under is how much he loves you.

You wake up.

You wake up, and he’s never felt so relieved before in his life. He can’t stop touching you, kissing you, looking you over every few seconds to make sure you’re alright --really alright.

The nurses urge him to head back to the Institute, take a shower, and get some rest. They’re right, and you’re still sleeping off the effects of the anesthesia, so he does.

Well, for the most part. He does shower, and he eats something, and he makes himself a cup of coffee.

“You look like shit.” Ellie sits down next to him at the breakfast table. “How is she?”

“She woke up a little bit ago. She’s good --as good as she can be.”

“And how are you?”

He sighs, presses his fist against his mouth. “Things need to change. Deadpool and Cable can’t stay here.”

“No shit. What was your first clue?”

He gives her a look, then drinks more of his coffee. “Have you heard anything from the Professor?”

“He’s pissed, as is Scott and the rest of the team. They’re pissed that Y/N got shot, and blame Douchepool for dragging the likes of the Punisher into our arena.”

Piotr shakes his head. “It was Cable. Not Deadpool.”

“Yeah, well, point stands. They’re dragging shit to us that doesn’t need to be dragged.”

He gives her another look for her language and finishes off his coffee. “On that, we are agreed.”

“Okay, what’s your fucking deal?”

Piotr doesn’t look up as he makes himself a cup of coffee in the hospital cafeteria. “You will have to be more specific, Cable.”

Nathan growls behind him. “That. That shit --the distancing and deflecting. What fucking bug do you have up your ass, Colossus?”

Even he’s not completely sure, if he’s being honest. He’s exhausted, still a little battered from the fight at the docks, and his nerves are completely fried from almost losing you.

And, well, he knows he’s not going to haul off on you for trying to help --especially not after you’ve had an episode--which really only leaves one other target.

Cable.

He almost lost you a few days ago; he’s spent past couple years imagining and dreaming about having a future with you, spent time soaking in your love and affection, and it was all almost ripped away in a matter of seconds.

All because Cable couldn’t keep you out of his war.

Because Piotr knows --he knows--that the recon could’ve been handled without you. It’s a thought that he can’t let go, wrapping around his brain like a neurotically flashing neon sign edged with thorns. He knows that you didn’t need to be there, that you would’ve been safer back at the mansion, and he knows that Cable knows all that, too.

It’s almost like Cable and Deadpool are too close to distinguish, now; two men fighting a war on their own terms, screw whoever gets tagged as collateral.

Nyet. That’s not right.

Because Cable is careful in ways that Deadpool never will be. He plans, he takes the people on his team into account, he keeps track of the battlefield and how many opponents are left.

And, if Piotr’s being honest with himself, he knows that you’d never be mindless collateral to Cable --or Deadpool, for that matter.

But he still brought you into his war, a war you weren’t trained to fight.

And as a leader, as a man that’s spent years learning how to set up mission rosters, how to assess trainees and what missions they’re ready for, how to know when someone just shouldn’t be on a mission --or a mission just shouldn’t be run--it angers him like nothing else. It’s careless. Callous.

But he’s not sure he wants to start that argument with Cable. He knows from dealing with Mikhail that some people are just set in their ways, and while they don’t like it when other people get hurt by them, it’s not actually enough to change their points of view.

(Life, really, is nothing but collateral damage if he wanted to be pessimistic about it, and he’s learned all too well from Wade that not everyone operates by his high standards of doing things.)

Besides, he really ought to be getting back to you, anyway.

He puts a lid on his cup and takes a sip as he turns and walks away --all without making eye contact with Nathan. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Man, if I knew I’d be getting the royal treatment, I’d make a point to get shot more often.”

He grimaces when you giggle. “Please, do not. I am happy to pamper you without you getting shot.”

“I was kidding, Piotr. I like getting shot as much as the next person --unless that person happens to be Wade or Frank, because I think they might actually enjoy it.”

He does laugh this time, and bends down to kiss you before lifting you into the shotgun seat of his car. “You may have point there.”

You wait until he’s pulled out of the hospital parking lot to point out the elephant in the room. “Why’re you pissed off with dad and Wade?”

He considers dodging, then thinks better of it. He’s got over an hour left on the drive with you, and he knows that you won’t drop it until you’re satisfied with the answer you get. “Wade is… Wade. Just… usual frustrations.”

“And dad?”

He drums his fingers against the steering wheel as he waits for the light to change colors. “He was careless. Brought you --brought the X-Men--into a war none of us needed to fight. It upsets me.”

You let out a little ‘hmm’ next to him. “And you’ve gone full cold shoulder because?”

“It is matter of principle,” he says as calmly as he can; he’s irritated and tired, yes, but he doesn’t want to take that out on you. “Leaders who put others like that at risk should not lead. I had to train for years--” He cuts himself off to keep from ranting and takes a few deep breaths before he starts talking again. “I cannot abide with those who needlessly put others at risk. I do not think Cable meant to put you at risk, but he made a mistake that was easily avoided --one that nearly cost the lives of all involved. That makes me angry.”

You go quiet for a moment, then put a hand on his thigh, patting his leg gently. “You know that the mission hasn’t changed my feelings about dad and Wade, right?”

“Your relationship with them is independent of mine. I know they are family to you, and I would not ask you to give that up.”

“Just as long as you won’t be mad with me if I still want to spend time with them.”

He smiles and lifts your hand to his mouth so he can press a kiss to it. “Never.”

It comes down to a vote, in the end.

The X-Men vote unanimously to give Wade the boot.

Wade doesn’t take the news that he’s getting kicked out well. “So, you’re saving face again. Get rid of the rabid, mutant, fucked up dog before he can infect the rest of your Eukanuba, purebred puppies. Well, isn’t that just a lovely daisy on top of a shit boquette!”

“Bringing the Punisher into our arena was completely out of line!” Scott seethes.

“Bringing Castle in was my call, not Wade’s,” Nathan pipes up. “He knew the area, he was familiar with the types of shitbags that worked out of Hell’s Kitchen.”

“His reputation,” Ororo aruges, “is a liability to this school and everyone in it.”

“So we’re more worried about reputation than saving people’s lives?” Wade asks, scoffing. “Is that what this has come to?”

“We’re fighting a war,” Nathan adds through his teeth. “You can’t always keep your hands perfectly clean if you want to win.”

“You’re fighting a war,” Piotr corrects quietly. “We have children to take care of. If you need to fight your war, you can’t do it from here.”

There’s a moment where something akin to respect flashes in Nathan’s eyes--

And said moment is promptly ruined by Scott. “Well, wait. Nathan, you’ll always be welcome here, but Wade--”

Nathan rolls his eyes and scoffs as he turns to walk out of Xavier’s office, yanking Wade along with him. “You just don’t get it.”

“What the fuck!”

He grimaces. “Look, this decision has be long time in making--”

“You’re kicking Wade out. You all voted to kick Wade out--”

“Deadpool does not fit in with our way of life. He believes things differently, and while diversity of belief is good for the world, we cannot have an assassin living with children. If we lose our licensing to work with our students, many children will lose vital education for controlling their powers and a safe place to stay. They have to be the priority.”

You consider for a moment, then let out a sigh. “Yeah. Yeah. That’s… that makes sense. What about dad? Is he going, too?”

“Da. If he wants to fight a war, he needs to leave for same reasons as Deadpool. And, honestly, it would be best for Deadpool if Cable goes with. He is great stability for him.”

You nod. “He is.”

He kisses your temple, then the top of your head when you lean against him. “What about you? Are you staying here, or will you go with them?”

“My therapy’s here, and I’ve got bounty hunters after me. Best place for me is here.” You smile up at him. “Besides, you’re here.”

He smiles back, and dips his head to kiss you.

“Are you gonna mind if they stop by the visit every now and then? They’re… they’re still my family. I still wanna see them, even if they don’t live here.”

He shrugs, grins. “If the Institute can hire your uncle as protection, I think Cable and Deadpool can stop by for family visits.”

You grin back. “Awesome.”

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #tw: abuse #tw: injury #tw: near death experience #this is ANGSTY #fluff next week i promise #maybe #cablepool #nathan summers x wade wilson #deadpool fanfiction #x men fanfiction

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texanredrose · 8 years ago

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Broken

So, a while back, someone brought up an ace!Yang headcanon for Elderburn, and I decided to give it a shot. However, I’m not ace, so a big shoutout to @keena-kapu and @thegreatersea for their assistance in writing this. Warning for NSFW elements in the beginning segment

Contrary to popular belief, Yang Xiao Long was a very smart person. Her grades throughout her combat schooling rarely reflected that because she did most of her assignments at the last minute, more keen on using her free time to focus on her interests rather than homework or studying, but she could retain information very well. She also could read people and situations, anticipate everyone's actions and reactions, and generally adjusted her actions accordingly. The blonde had spent the first month at Beacon learning her new teammate's limits, how far she could push a joke before it was no longer funny, what subjects were off limits and which ones just took a little bit of time to get them to open up about it. Her perceptive inclinations had rarely steered her wrong.

But everyone meets their match sometime and she'd met hers about three years ago.

Winter Schnee, her teammate's older sister... no one could've expected them to hit it off as well as they did. Maybe it was the circumstances- both of them wading through hell and high water to protect those they cared about- that bound them together or just a strange sense of companionable compatibility, because no one really laughed at her puns with such genuine amusement the way the other woman did and, despite her more laid back demeanor, Yang had found herself extremely motivated to accomplish even the most inane task since meeting Winter. When the dust settled and they stood victorious, when it looked like they could turn their sights to rebuilding and moving forward, the two fell into step beside each other almost without noticing, just... comfortable together. They officially started dating almost a full year after that and it easily constituted the best romantic relationship Yang had ever had.

Unfortunately, she knew the reason for that, and terror gripped her heart in that moment as her worst fears came true.

"Yang? Is something wrong?" Her girlfriend frowned slightly, hovering over her.

"Nope!" She smiled, forcing everything down and to the back of her mind, reaching up to wrap her arms around the other woman's neck. "I'm just, ya know, stoked we're finally doing this."

"Are you, now?" One pale brow arched and the blonde nearly buckled, those blue eyes darkened by desire searching for something she couldn't describe. She could make a guess, though, and she could hope she was a better actor than she ever was a student.

See, they hadn't had sex yet. Almost three years of being on more than friendly terms and two years solid of dating, but this remained one barrier they'd yet to breach. And not for lack of trying, at least on Winter's part. Usually, an excuse came to her lips or, on those rare blessed times, an actual interruption in the form of a call or visit from their friends or sisters. Being part of the small group to triumph over Salem's forces imbued them with a surprising amount of responsibility and it seemed every day brought with it a new challenge, but things had slowed down recently. They had time to enjoy being together, and with that came a certain amount of restlessness.

Yang had looked forward to it with equal parts trepidation and acceptance. This was the natural progression of relationships, right? Eventually, they'd have sex, and tonight seemed to be the moment when they had time, space, and the will to do it. Her girlfriend had past partners and had remarked once or twice about the pace of those relationships- all of them much faster than theirs, in most respects, but shallow and almost purely physical. They'd been markedly slower in this one facet, and though she'd never hinted at having a problem with that, it probably didn't sit well with her. Winter had once joked that putting off sex, in hindsight, seemed like the obvious answer to ensuring a deeper, more meaningful connection, but the blonde had remained silent, offering only a brief chuckle before changing the subject. She didn't believe sex had anything to do with it, of course.

Here in the moment, though, a simple change of subject would do her no good. Thankfully, she wasn't entirely adrift in the situation, without even driftwood to keep her afloat. Despite being the younger of the two by five years, Yang had her fair share of experience to draw upon as well, so she managed to stay strong and nod. "Absolutely." A hand traced up her side, beneath the fabric of her shirt, and she gasped, hoping the sound came across as either surprise or pleasure. "You, uh, don't have to go so slow, ya know."

Winter hummed, ducking down to connect their lips in a sweet kiss. "Always so impatient."

"Hey, what can I say?" She smirked. "I know when I've got a good thing comin'."

The words are always the easiest part, she'd found. Flirting, sweet talk, even sex talk- Yang never had a problem with that side of the equation. Mainly because it could always be waved away, allowing her something of a shield; most people didn't take her too seriously, always reading her advances as jokes, and they weren't too far off. Her girlfriend was different, of course, because she remained sincere in all the things she said to her...

... well, almost all the things.

Winter moved then, situating herself more comfortably between the blonde's legs as she sat back a little, grasping the hem of her shirt and lifting it up and over her head in a single fluid motion. While Yang might never get over how absolutely stunning her girlfriend looked in her military uniform or a well tailored pantsuit, seeing the woman in t-shirts was equally endearing, but she was jolted away from that thought when Winter reached behind her to undo her bra.

It... it wasn't bad, per se. Seeing her girlfriend in front of her, that certainly never qualified as bad. She could appreciate the woman's form- the musculature of a dancer, lithe and firm, with little scars across her torso from long forgotten fights, like marble chiseled by an expert hand- and see her obvious beauty but, as fabric fell away to reveal her breasts, something began squirming inside her gut, unpleasant and unwanted. It had nothing to do with the sight; it was the expectation weighing down on her.

Reciprocation. Returning the favor, matching her partner's passion- she could put a name to the sensation constricting her heart and turning her insides to a writing mess of well disguised horror but that didn't make it any easier a thing to combat. Ultimately, she couldn't fight it, she just had to accept it- that this was the next step in a relationship.

She could say no. On some level, she knew that, and she trusted the woman would immediately comply. But... she couldn't keep denying her girlfriend this. Winter wanted sex; she had to provide. That's how relationships worked.

I can do this.

"You're gorgeous, you know that?" She smirked, falling back on easy truths while staring into the woman's eyes.

Her girlfriend chuckled, crawling over her to initiate another kiss, smoldering on the edge of familiar territory and something new. Heated, but ready to turn hotter. Ironic that she would fear that level of heat. "You may have mentioned it before."

She liked kissing. On the lips, the head, the cheek, the hand, the shoulder, the neck- really, she just like kissing and cuddling, holding and hugging, and she could give all that out in a never ending stream.

Going beyond that... she could do. Of course she could. She'd done it before. She needed to get out of her own head.

But then fingers slipped beneath her shirt and she flinched.

"Yang?"

"Your fingers are cold," she said, thinking quickly and leaning up to put a sweet little kiss on the tip of Winter's nose. "Startled me."

Blue eyes narrowed as the woman drew back just a little, surprised. Not wanting to give her girlfriend too much time to think- because Winter was smart, and capable of outmaneuvering even Ruby in a show of tactics, and she would know if she started looking- she reached down, liberating herself of the garment with little fanfare. Just like changing, except with nothing to cover herself now, not even a bra- she'd already taken off her under garments before they made it to the bed. Less things to waste their time on, less things she had to be aware of, and she'd done this enough times to know that. The moments in which she feigned a struggle to tear the shirt over her own head, she tried to marshal her thoughts together. She loved Winter; Winter loved her. They had to do this at some point, so it might as well be tonight.

When the blonde had rid herself of her shirt, she could feel her girlfriend's eyes on her and it didn't- it should feel good. It should. But it made her skin crawl, because she didn't like it- she loved when those eyes fell on her full of affection, full of adoration, full of love. Now... yet, she could rationalize it. Winter was looking at her like that because she cared. They were doing this because they loved each other and this constituted an expression of that love.

I can do this.

"Come here," she said, and she did her best to infect her tone with a sultry tenor. Half lidded bedroom eyes, a smile on her face, she reached up only for Winter to draw away slightly. "Babe? Snowdrift?"

Winter tilted her head, alabaster strands spilling over her shoulder. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"O-of course." That didn't seem to convince the woman, so she tried stroking along her girlfriend's sides, falling back into old habits for a lifeline. "Don't tell me you're getting cold feet."

At first, all she got for a response was narrowed eyes, but the woman's expression broke into a smile a moment later. "No. Not at all."

Yang mentally sighed in relief, though her anxiety didn't abate one bit as Winter leaned down and kissed her, and she mentally braced herself as the bare skin of their breasts touched for the first time. It felt... weird. Not bad, not good, just... strange.

Unsettling, a little.

But she could do this.

I can do this.

She understood the mechanics of it. She'd had partners before. They weren't... none of them qualified as pleasant experiences, mind, but she did her best to not think about that. It didn't matter at the time; it was what she had to do, just like now. She had to do this, and Winter loved her more than the others, so maybe this time would be different. She just had to stay focused.

However, her entire train of thought was completely derailed when, suddenly, a hand pressed against the crotch of her shorts, pushing directly against her inner thighs and core.

She couldn't help it. Yang jumped and turned her head away, the shock and spike of pure no that shot through her making her impulsive response too strong to hide and Winter immediately sat back on her heels, breaking all contact.

Damnit.

"Yang, what's going on?" Her girlfriend's severe expression brooked no argument, eyes hard as steel. "Something's obviously wrong."

It's me. I am.

"I'm just- I'm nervous," she said, offering a little smile and reaching out. They could still get back into it- it wasn't over yet. "Just first time jitters, that's all."

Winter shook her head. "I don't believe that. You've had partners before-"

"But you're the first woman." It seemed like a sound excuse in her head and she did her best to articulate it, curling her lips into a small smile and doing her absolute best to sound at least a touch embarrassed by her actions. "I know it sounds a little silly, but it's just... a new experience, ya know? And it's been a while-"

"Yang." She crossed her arms over her stomach. "Please, don't lie to me."

Her mouth worked for a few moments, silently, but the words refused to come. "I- I- um, it's just-" Winter shifted and panic lanced through her, pure terror gripping her heart. "Wait, please, don't-"

"I'm just putting my shirt back on," the woman said, her voice soft as she reclaimed the fabric of pulled it over her head. Somehow, Yang hadn't noticed that the shirt was actually hers- black with white lettering for some band, part of a community rebuilding effort in Vale- and sat a little awkwardly on her girlfriend's narrower shoulders. "I suggest you do the same."

"But-"

"Yang." She snapped in that crisp, cold military fashion her voice had always held before her expression softened. Her shoulders relaxed, head tilting slightly as she smiled. "It's alright. Put your shirt on. Please?"

Words failed to string themselves together, so she hung her head and nodded listlessly, accepting the garment handed to her when she didn't have the guts to look up and find it herself. Shame caused her cheeks to flare bright red, the unpleasantness from before replaced by crushing guilt. She should've been able to do this for Winter. It wasn't hard- why did she have to be like... like this?

"Sundrop?"

She broke at the gentle, loving care with which the pet name fell from her girlfriend's lips, tears suddenly springing to lilac eyes and running down over her flaming cheeks. During their close calls, she'd been able to keep herself together, but they'd never gotten this far before. This seemed like well beyond the point of no return and here was Winter, being her calm, collected, loving self, and the blonde couldn't deal with it. Because she knew- she knew- that the woman would soothe her, would wipe away her tears and say it wasn't a big deal, that they could try again, but it would just be another night like tonight.

Arms wrapped around her, pulling her up to rest against the woman's chest, careful fingers carding through her hair as Winter began whispering sweet, reassuring words, but she couldn't hear them over the sound of her own inner voice berating her. Her girlfriend had done so much, put up with so much- even through blurry eyes, Yang could see the custom stand for her prosthetic resting on the bedside table. They hadn't known each other back when she had her real arm, when she was whole; she'd only ever known the blonde as she was now, a shattered image pulled back together and forged anew in the fires of combat, all jagged edges and asymmetrical baggage. When the nightmares had come back, Winter had held her just like this, told her it would be okay- and she believed the woman. Her girlfriend spoke with such conviction, how could she question it?

"It's okay, Sundrop. Let it out." Lips pressed against the top of her head. "It's going to be okay."

No, it's not.

"I'm sorry." She croaked out, reaching out to cling to the woman's shirt. "I'm so sorry."

"Hush, now. None of that." A gentle touch on her chin directed her gaze up into those dazzling blue eyes. "It's going to be okay."

I should be able to do this for you.

"I'm s-"

"It's okay, Yang." Her girlfriend drew her into a sweet kiss and it hurt. Winter loved her and she couldn't just- just get herself in order enough to do this one thing. "Let's go to bed."

"You said we shouldn't go to sleep angry," she said, voice thick.

"And I stand by that." Softly, Winter helped tug her shirt back over her head, pulling her thick mane out from beneath it. "But I'm not angry. Are you angry?"

She bit her lip, turning her head away as fingers followed her bicep down to the prosthetic's anchor and activated the release mechanism. Beneath the shame, she was angry, but with herself and herself only. After two years- two years- she should be able to do this without a second thought. She loved Winter, loved her like she didn't think was possible, and this was the next step. How could she keep denying her girlfriend this? The proof.

"Sundrop?" Against her better judgment, she looked up and once again saw nothing but patience and love looking back at her. "Are you angry?" Her left hand clenched into a fist but she still couldn't bring the words together. How was she supposed to tell someone like Winter- drop dead gorgeous, unerringly dedicated, lovingly affectionate Winter- that the very idea of them being naked in a sexual context nearly made her physically ill? After all those flirts, after all those words, how could she not back them up with action? "Oh, Yang. What's wrong?"

Me.

"I'm just- I..." She swallowed thickly. "I killed the mood."

Her girlfriend watched her for a moment before letting out a little chuckle. "Don't worry about it. I'm not upset and you don't have to be either." Her smile widened, blue eyes sparkling with sincerity. "Maybe another night?"

There it was. A promise at redemption and another chance to shove aside her damages, put it all in a box and push it to the furthest recess of her mind...

... and just like every time before, some part of her saw the truth.

You can't do it now, you won't be able to do it then. You're just stringing her along.

Yang tilted her head down. "Yeah. Another night."

Winter seemed to hesitate before reaching forward, tugging her into a sweet embrace. "Something's still bothering you." She murmured softly. "Do you want to talk about it right now?"

Without her prosthetic- detached and lying a foot away- she could only return the embrace with her left, squeezing with all her might. "N-no."

"Okay," she replied, sighing. "That's okay. How about in the morning, over breakfast?"

"Do we really have to plan this out?" She tried infecting a little playfulness into her tone. "Not everything has to be by schedule, you know."

The woman hummed. "I'd have thought you'd warm up to my penchant for planning by now."

"Snowdrift." Yang couldn't help but chuckle weakly. "You really need to work on your puns."

Silence followed before Winter responded. "Well, I'll slot practice in for lunch, then. I think that's being rather punctual."

That got more of a laugh out of her. "Better." She looked up, staring at the woman's face. "You'll be on my level in no time."

"I can only aspire to such greatness," she said, leaning down for a soft kiss. "I love you, Yang."

The blonde hardly breathed for a moment, burying her face in the woman's shoulder. "I love you too, Winter."

Slowly, they separated and prepared for bed, rote motions soothing her somewhat. The routine helped but in the back of her mind she had the same snatches of sentences running through, over and over. Even when she crawled into bed, lying on her right side and acutely aware of Winter wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss against her shoulder, she could hear them repeating on an endless loop.

You can't keep doing this. She deserves better than this. You know what you have to do.

"Good night, Sundrop. I love you."

"Night, Snowdrift." She murmured. "Love ya too."

When the lights cut out, she tried to will herself asleep.

She'd need her energy tomorrow.

The sun hadn't risen yet but lilac eyes blurred by tears could see the digital clock on the bedside table reading four thirty in the morning. She couldn't sleep, restless dreams leading into terrible nightmares, and she'd already woken Winter up twice during the night from sudden movements. A few quiet words and a promise to return to slumber were enough for the woman to fall back asleep but Yang couldn't, doing her best to feign it until she could hear the deep, rhythmic breathing behind her.

How many times had this happened? She'd lost count of the excuses, the near misses, but she remembered the nights after, when sleep wouldn't come and she laid awake, counting the hours until the other woman stirred, when she'd plaster on a convincing smile and pretend like she hadn't laid awake the whole time. In the past, they'd always had something that preoccupied them, some form of distraction, but those became fewer and fewer nowadays. Remnant was on the road to recovery and those who had fought so hard to save it could take a step back, focus on more immediate issues. Weiss had the SDC, Blake had the White Fang, Ruby had Beacon, Winter had the Atlesian military, and Yang had Vale, but those things could bend to the natural demands of life. Time off, time to recoup and recover- things that hadn't been readily available in years now could be attained at a simple request.

Which meant... this would happen again. And again and again, and she had started losing hope it'd turn out any differently. For whatever reason, she couldn't just grin and bear it this time around, couldn't shove all her own feelings back for the sake of her partner.

What was wrong with her? She should be able to do this. It wasn't fair to Winter to keep denying her. She had to do something.

Carefully, she reached out for the extra pillow, dragging it closer slowly. Then, she folded it over and started shifting, enough for the other woman to loosen the arm around her waist just enough for her to slip out and replace her body with the pillow. She watched as Winter curled her arm, automatically trying to draw the blonde closer while asleep.

You can't keep hurting her.

Yang reached out, brushing a few locks of alabaster hair out of Winter's face. She looked so peaceful when asleep, the severity from her military posture obliterated, and the blonde couldn't help but bite her lip as tears stung at her eyes.

Despite all her father's words to the contrary, she still acted on her gut and her heart, rarely thinking with her head. Right now, her gut said to confront the issue head on and hope for the best outcome. But as her gaze fell to the stump of her right arm, she had to admit that following her gut hadn't gotten her the best outcome in the past. Sometimes, everything worked out well enough, but others...

No matter what, you're going to hurt her. You're nothing but trouble. You've always been broken like this.

The tears started to fall as she made her decision, opting for one path out of many. It seemed antithetical to everything she'd ever done, everything she stood for... so maybe, this time, the outcome would be better.

Yang watched for a few more minutes before easing herself off the bed and reattaching the arm, biting down on the quiet grunt that accompanied the anchor powering it up. Quietly, she set about getting dressed in the dark, using only the light of the shattered moon overhead to light the way. It didn't seem like it would be enough, to some degree, but the darkness outside couldn't be any darker than the thoughts plaguing her mind.

Like mother like daughter, leaving in the dead of night like this. What happened to being better than that?

A snarl curled her lips as she passed over some things in favor of others. Leaving the monogrammed shell belt that was a birthday present from Winter in favor of the old beaten one she used to wear, grabbing her old orange scarf but leaving the anniversary present of a citrine necklace, her old leather jacket instead of the new one she got when they went shopping a few months back- she wanted to take them but it would just hurt. She wouldn't be the only one with a dagger in her heart with every glance at them, of course, but... she'd learned a long time ago that sadness and anger were often the same things. Just expressed differently.

After Raven left, Dad found Summer. Snowdr- Winter, she won't waste time being sad. She'll get angry, she'll get over me, and then she'll find her own Summer.

That's what she tried to tell herself, anyway. She only half believed it. Winter probably would be distraught and miss her for a while... but a woman like her could have anyone in Remnant. Eventually, she’d find someone who wasn’t a broken mess, someone better, someone who could make her happy. After mentally berating herself a bit more for her own cowardice, she grabbed her go bag and another duffel and started filling it with just the essentials: Ember Celica's entire kit, her wallet and a few extra changes of clothes, her scroll and such. When she zipped it up, she heard movement coming from the bed and froze, crouched down by the bags.

Don't wake up. Don't wake up. Don't wak-

"Yang?" The sleepiness in her voice quickly gave way to a sort of panicked concern. "Yang?" She bit her lip, trying to arrange the words in her head as bed springs creaked and the bedside lamp flicked on, chasing away the darkness. "Yang, what are you doing?"

"I'm leaving," she said, slowly standing up with the strap in her hand, ducking her head under it so it rested on her left shoulder.

"Did you get a Huntress assignment?" The sheets ruffled as the woman got out of bed. "Is it a long one?"

"No." She grabbed her go bag in her left hand, swallowing thickly. "It's nothing like that."

"Then what's going on?" Soft footfalls came up behind her, a light touch to her right shoulder. "Yang?"

Tell her the truth. You should've told her a long time ago. You did this.

"It's... it's over." Marshaling her courage, she turned around and looked at Winter, doing everything in her power to remain straight faced as possible. "We can't be together anymore."

Shock splayed across the woman's expression, blue eyes wide. "... what?"

"It's for the best." Yang did her best to stay strong and gripped the strap cutting across her chest to keep her hand from shaking. "You should know it's not you. You've been... more than I deserve-"

"Don't say that," the woman said, an edge of severity in her tone. "That's not- what brought this on?" She reached out, setting her hands on the blonde's shoulders. "Whatever it is, we can talk it out-"

"We really can't." She took a slow step back, drawing away from the woman's touch. "But it's not you. It's me and I- I should've told you before. I've let this go on too long." Tears came to her eyes and she blinked, trying to force them back. "I'm sorry, Winter. It's over."

"Yang, please, just tell me what's going on. I don't understand." She raised her arms again but Yang stepped back again, knowing that contact between them would break down her resolve. "Sundrop-"

"Please, stop." She turned her away, heading for the dresser where her motorcycle keys sat. "It's just done. We're through."

"Can you tell me why?" The question came out soft but it brought her to a dead halt before she could pick them up. "Do I get that, at least?"

Yang's prosthetic fingers shook- a rare malfunction due to the overwhelming sensory data. She wanted to turn around and beg for forgiveness, explain everything, but she could already see in her mind's eye- the outrage, the fury, the disgust. So, she remained silent, the minutes ticking by slowly as the barest hints of sunrise touched the horizon.

"I see... very well." She could hear the warble in the woman's voice; Winter was doing everything in her power to keep from crying. She always had a rather impressive amount of control over her own emotions, sometimes to a maddening degree, but that cold persona had fallen away piece by piece over the months they'd spent together and it killed the blonde to hear both, the desperate clinging to that old mask and the obvious cracks from not wearing it for so long. "I suppose this means we... won't be having dinner this Friday."

She cringed, remembering that date they'd set up a three weeks ago at a fancy restaurant downtown. Yang didn't really do the whole 'dress code enforced' type of place, but the woman came from that sort of social circle and occasionally liked to indulge, and damnit if she didn't cut a figure in her suits. The blonde had acquiesced to every request for formal events because Winter asked so infrequently and she'd even been looking forward to this one. "Yeah."

Grabbing the keys, she winced at how the clinking of metal against metal seemed to echo in the bedroom. A few more steps and she'd be out into the hallway, then the living room, then the doorstep- it seemed like a simple progression of events but her body felt like lead.

"Will I see you again?" The note of desperation in the woman's tone tore at her heart, forcing to bite her lip to keep silent until she could give the right answer. "I understand that... sometimes, people need space. Time to think, alone. We could... be on break, until you feel ready to return."

Yang took in a deep breath and looked up towards the ceiling, willing herself not to cry. The whole point of sneaking out was to have a clean break, no contact. Weiss would be furious with her but Blake would understand. Hell, she might even find it ironic that Yang was taking a page out of her own book, but... well... it seemed to work for her, and Raven, and everyone else who ran away. "No. This is goodbye, Winter." She swallowed thickly, doing her best to sound like she actually wanted to be saying the words. "That's final."

In the silence that followed, she swore she could hear Winter's heart breaking and it killed her on the inside to be the cause.

"Right. Of course. In that case... forgive me for this." She moved away and it prompted Yang to turn around, eyebrows furrowing as the woman reached up and opened a shadow box hanging on the wall. Within, every medal and decoration she'd earned during her service in the Atlesian military stood, the coins slotted into grooves while the medals were pinned to the backing, and she moved aside the biggest one in the middle to reveal a little cubby hole cut out of it. Yang had never known that was there- why would she?- but the other woman reached in with practiced ease and withdrew something from the hiding place. "I'd planned on doing this after that dinner... but I suppose it doesn't matter now."

Then she turned around and Yang's breath caught in her throat, keys sliding from her fingers as her shoulders slumped in shock. In her hands was a little black box.

A ring box.

"The past two years have been the only ones I really felt like I lived," Winter said, gaze fixated on the ring box, fingers running over the smooth velvet case. "Before that, it was a slog through battlefields, a constant fight to just see the next day, and before that a cold emptiness that seemed to stretch on forever. I took some comfort in the routine of it all but little pleasure. I thought that's all life was: agonizing nothingness or unrelenting struggle with all too brief moments of happiness in between. Being with you, though, changed that; it opened my eyes to the simple beauty of the world. The calm of a lazy Sunday, the warmth of an embrace, the joy of laughter- I saw glimpses of them before, little moments during the war, but the last two years..." She sighed, a small smile coming to her lips. "Every day's been wonderful. We've had some rough times, some stressful stretches, but I've been able to lean on you when the world felt too overwhelming. You're strong, courageous, with a beautiful heart and a shining soul." Winter paused, chest stuttering as she did her best to hold in a sob. "I truly feel privileged to have met you, to know you, to... to love you."

Tears pricked at her eyes even as matching ones began rolling down the woman's cheeks. This was why she'd tried taking the coward's way out; deep down, some part of her knew it wasn't as easy as a small nuance between 'sad' and mad', no, people weren't so shallow. Well, maybe some were, but not Winter. It was one of the things she loved most about the woman, how much depth could be found in the smallest of gestures.

But this was the right thing to do. No matter how much it hurt, it stood as the best option for both of them.

She wanted the woman to be happy; happier than the blonde could make her. Winter deserved a real, full relationship, and she... she couldn't give that.

"I've found that, the more our lives have become intertwined, the less I wanted them to be separate and distinct. What we've built together... is important to me." She sighed, shaking her head. "There's more- I spent the past three weeks writing this all out. But, in light of the circumstances..."

Winter's expression screwed up and she turned her head away, trying to hide the pain. It hurt- the blonde swallowed down the impulse to go to the woman, to comfort her, because she never wanted to put her through this, she should've broken it off before they got to this point. But she wanted to pretend like things could stay the way they were and never change.

Winter strode towards her, lacking the normal confidence in her steps and seeming unsteady. Once about arm's length away, she got down on one knee and pried open the box, revealing the shining engagement ring within sitting on a bed of velvet. A band of white gold with a diamond set in the middle, rounded edges lending to a flowing design etched into the ring; it looked sturdy enough to survive a punch or two, if need be, and that made her hurt even worse. "I want to say that I am the luckiest woman alive to have had this chance with you... and that hasn't changed." Kneeling there in her pajamas, white hair flowing over her shoulders- she looked beautiful and sincere. "I was going to ask you to be my wife on Friday. I love you, Yang, and I wanted us to be together; we survived a war together, we helped rebuild Remnant together, we've done and seen so much and I wanted to continue it. I wanted to be there for you, in good times and bad, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, til..." She slowly closed the ring box. "But if you want to leave... I can't make you stay. I want you to be happy, Yang. I thought I could..." Winter paused and shook her head. "It doesn't matter." She reached out, at first aiming for the blonde's left hand but switching to her right and pressing the ring box into metal fingers. "Please, take this. As a reminder that, no matter what happens, no matter how bad things look... you are loved. Unconditionally. You've inspired that within me and I have no doubt you'll find someone who can do that for you, too. Even if I can't be the one you love, I'll still be here if you need anything." She swallowed thickly, obviously forcing down her own tears. "As a friend." Guided by flesh and blood once, metal fingers were guided to curl around the ring box before they withdrew. Winter looked up at her and smiled- it was a small, fragile thing, but the sentiment remained genuine. "I wish you every happiness, Yang." A single tear slipped out and she quickly looked down to hide her face. "And I'm sorry for whatever I did to lose you."

Lilac eyes fell onto the little box in her right hand. This symbol of undeserved love, given freely.

She should turn and leave right now. It would be the right thing to do. Leave Winter to be consoled by her- likely irate, given the hour- younger sister and begin the healing process.

Once, when she first stepped foot onto Beacon's grounds, she believed herself nigh invincible. Strong. Ridiculously so, and stronger for every hit weathered.

Yang learned the hard way that even she could be knocked down. That she wasn't the strongest person. That strength- real strength- couldn't be counted by any physical measure.

Truthfully, she was rather weak. She had a temper, she threw herself into every endeavor without a thought to the consequences, and even being injured as a result had only slowed her down a little. But most importantly, she cared- cared more about healing another's sorrows than mending her own.

And no matter how much she tried, she would never be like Raven. She couldn’t be.

The go bag fell from limp fingers a moment before her knees hit the ground. The blonde wrapped her arms around the other woman, holding her and rubbing her left hand across her back soothingly even as she nearly choked on her own tears.

"You didn't do anything," she said, trying to at least sound somewhat intelligible. "It's not you, Winter, I swear. I just-" Squeezing her eyes tight, she sobbed, forcing the words from her mouth. "It's me. I can't be what you deserve. I can't do it; I'm so sorry."

"What are you talking about?" Fingers dug into the fabric of her jacket, holding her close, and she relished the embrace even as some part of her screeched that it would just make the parting all the more painful. "You're everything to me-"

"I can't have sex with you!" The words were acid on her tongue, the truth laid bare between them. Only a matter of time remained until the sorrow turned to offense, to anger- eventually, all her good qualities would be obliterated.

That's how it always went.

Slowly, the irregular breathing subsided and Winter pulled back, looking at her in utter confusion. Yang braced herself, holding in her agony and hoping she could at least make it down the stairs before breaking down again after being kicked out.

"Is that what this is about?" Her brows drew together and anger flashed in her eyes. "You're leaving me because you don't want to have sex with me?"

"It's not that I don't want to!" The response came out almost instantly, an automatic reaction, but she quickly corrected herself while wincing. "I mean- yeah, that's- that's true, too, but it's not because of you! I... I don't want to have sex. Not with anyone! Not at all! I just- I can't- I-"

A hand came to her shoulder, bringing her unsteady flood to a halt. "Yang, are you saying you have no interest in sex at all?"

She hung her head and nodded, ashamed. "Yeah. I... I've been like this for years. Before we met. Since... since the first time I..." She hugged her arms around herself. "I should be able to, like all the other times, I should've told you a long time ago, but I can't- I'm sorry, I should-"

"Stop, stop stop stop." Yang found herself pulled forward, the anger she expected absent as she found herself in Winter's embrace once more, fingers carding through her hair. "There's no 'should' about this, Sundrop. You didn't want to and I-" She froze, a realization coming over her. "Oh Maidens, Yang, I'm so sorry. I- I misread everything- I thought you wanted me to-" She pulled back, guiding their gazes to meet and she could see the panic flashing in blue eyes. "I never meant to hurt you, Yang; I should've seen a long time ago that you didn't want to take things that route."

"I... should've told you," she said, a croak in her voice as her gaze darted away. "I was just... everyone else I ever told..."

"I would guess 'reacted negatively' is a vast understatement." Winter cupped her face tenderly, rubbing thumbs along the blonde's cheeks. "They aren't me but that doesn't mean I'm without my faults. I'm so sorry. I should've realized what was going on, or tried addressing it in plain terms rather than going off what I took to be hints."

"But I-" She sobbed. "I should be able to do this for you."

"That's not how love works, Yang." The woman leaned forward, resting their foreheads together even as Yang tried to bring her sniffling under control. "It's a compromise, give and take, but that's based on what we both want. I don't want to hurt you and this? Trying to force yourself into a situation that makes you so uncomfortable? That's never what I want."

She started crying again because it couldn't be this easy. Maybe- maybe Winter wasn't getting it, maybe she thought she could 'fix' her, because past precedent had taught her never to accept that things could be easy. Beacon and Salem, Summer and Raven, every partner she'd ever had- things just weren't straight forward in her life. "How can you... how can you say that? I can't- I can't change. I've tried, I've tried-"

"You don't have to try, Yang. You can't change this part of yourself and I'm not asking you to do that." Winter wiped away the fresh tears streaming down her face. "How we've been? Let's just continue that. We don't need sex to have a meaningful relationship; the absence of it doesn't detract from the past two years.” She smiled. “I meant what I said, Sundrop. They've been the best of my life and I am truly honored to have spent them beside you. I don't want that to end- I don't want us to end."

"But- now you know." Lilac eyes darted down to the ring box but focused on the black, yellow, and white metal of her prosthetic as old demons came back to stab at her one more time. "You know how broken I am. How can you-"

"Yang Xiao Long," she said, the angry edge back in her voice and expression absolutely livid, in that terrifyingly calm way she'd always carried herself. "What part of the word 'unconditionally' did you fucking miss?" Her hand slide down from the blonde's cheek, over her shoulder and to the anchor, rubbing at the tender skin just above the metal. "You were hurt, yes, and you pulled yourself back together. It took an impressive amount of courage and determination, but you did it. You didn't come away from that experience without your scars but I've never seen you as less for them; they've shown that there's more to you than anyone had ever guessed, and I feel deeply touched to have had the opportunity to see it for myself." Her expression softened into one of pained guilt. "To me, this is no different. It's part of who you are, it's an integral part, and it can't be changed. And I, for one, don't want it to; I don't want you forcing yourself to be someone you're not or do something that you can't purely for my sake. Between us, I should've done more to show you that. I should've ensured you felt safe and secure enough to talk about this. Maybe I couldn't have dispelled the fear entirely, but I should've made it clear that I could never be upset with you for telling me how you feel. I'm sorry; I should've been better."

Yang bit her lip, breath stuttering in her chest as she tried to wrangle her emotions. Aside from being distraught over all the things she'd said and done- trying to leave like it meant nothing, hiding this part of herself, admitting the truth- she could feel the warmth of hope pulsing in her heart. Slowly, she brought the ring box in her hand up, rotating her wrist slowly so she could see the velvet easily in the light filtering in through the window. "So... you're not... angry?"

"I would say I'm frustrated, but it's all directed at myself." The corners of the woman's mouth turned down into a severe frown. "I almost lost the most important person in my life due to my own blindness, over something as petty as sexual gratification. Can you truly blame me for being a little peeved at my own ignorance?"

A short, mirthless chuckle burst from her mouth. "... are you really asking that of the person who nearly walked out on the best thing to ever happen to her over a dumb misunderstanding?"

"Well, when you put it that way." Winter puffed out a laugh, pulling back a little to smile at her.

She found herself returning it, the hope growing that maybe... maybe this would all work out. Some part of her didn't want to push that far- why take away the bright spot so soon after finding it?- but, if things really were falling into place, that unwillingness to potentially ruin everything had landed them in this position in the first place, the two of them kneeling on the ground in their shared apartment at the break of dawn, two bags waiting to be used or unpacked.

Carefully, she raised the ring box, holding it between them and prying open the lid. "It's beautiful."

"The band expands into an adjustable necklace. Your sister helped design it," she said, sounding as if she was holding her breath. "I wouldn't want to inhibit your combat style."

"Thoughtful." Taking a deep breath to steel her nerves, she looked into Winter's eyes. "You never actually asked me, ya know."

"That's true." Without removing the box from her metal fingers, the woman moved her own hands to cup Yang's, presenting the box where it rested. "Yang Xiao Long. You are the love of my life, the light that guides me home, my sanctuary, and I know that one more day with you by my side is worth more than even the most blissful sex capable by any human or faunus in Remnant. I say these words with the full understanding that all I'm asking of you is to continue as we have, walking this path together." She smiled then and it become so obvious that not even the staunchest of the little voices in the blonde's head could deny the honesty shining bright in the woman's expression. "Will you marry me?"

Moving her left hand to cover one of Winter's, she offered a watery smile first, followed by her words.

"Yes," she replied, not at all surprised by the kiss that followed.

How quickly it broke off, however, did surprise her. "Wait, was that okay?"

"Huh?" Yang couldn't help but blink, a little bit surprised but mostly confused.

"Well, you've made it clear that sex is off the table." Her girlfr- fiance narrowed her eyes slightly in suspicion. "Is there anything else you've been doing for my sake?"

Then it clicked. "I still like kissing. I mean- I've always liked kissing." Curling her lips into a smile, she wrapped her arms around Winter's shoulders to bring her closer. "Cuddling, too. For the record."

Relief flashed across the woman's expression as she leaned forward, hands splaying across the blonde's back and rubbing in soft, smooth circles. "That's good to hear. But we're going to have to establish something to make sure I don't cross any more boundaries."

"What, like a safe word?" A little teasing came to her voice as she giggled. "It's supposed to be something really out there, ya know, like something you wouldn't say every day. Like-"

"Okay, hold that thought, Little Miss Jokes." A finger came up to rest on her lips. "I'm being serious. I'm not making another mistake like this."

She couldn't help but smile wide. "I can always appreciate the dedication of a Schnee." Yang quirked an eyebrow. "Among other things."

"It never fails to surprise me how quickly you bounce back."

"It's one of my-" Any smart remark about to leave her mouth became irrelevant, the yawn that took precedence stretching her mouth wide. Suddenly, all the turmoil of the past several hours slammed into her with force, and her fitful sleep hadn't given her much energy to run on anyway. "Uh, sorry."

Winter looked over at the window, noting the faint light streaking through and smiling. "Why don't you change into something a little more comfortable while I draw the curtains? We can continue this conversation after you take a nap."

"Ah, I'm fine." She waved off the other woman's concern. "Don't you have a meeting or something in a few hours?"

A single brow arched before her fiance got to her feet, walking over to the bedside table where her scroll sat on the charger. After a rapid succession of taps without even picking the device up, she hummed and flashed a small smile at Yang. "What meeting?"

"Weiss is gonna be pissed," the blonde said, standing up and moving the bag off her shoulder, letting it drop to be dealt with later. "It took her three months to convince you to go to that."

"I simply told her I'm not feeling well and I don't plan on leaving the bed outside of necessities until tomorrow. She's pushed the meeting back a day; hardly an inconvenience we don't regularly plan for anyway." Without waiting for any further response from her scroll, Winter set about closing the curtains around the room while she changed back into her sleep wear. "Although she's extremely focused on turning the SDC around, she's nothing like our father; her family means more to her than prestige ever will."

"So you exploit that by telling a little white lie?" Yang stumbled over to the bedside, plopping down with a relieved sigh. When she'd pulled herself from it an hour ago, she thought it might be the last time she ever shared a bed with anyone- because if she couldn't have someone like Winter, why bother trying? Lilac eyes fell on the ring box, still clutched in her hand, as she reached up to release her prosthetic from the anchor. "If she ever finds out-"

"I'm not lying." She felt the bed depress behind her, the shuffling of fabric preceding the other woman pressing against her back, arms wrapping loosely around her waist. "Our relationship is one of my priorities and Weiss well knows that. Until we've talked everything through, I won't feel comfortable leaving your side. And you need your rest. I can't imagine the stress you've put yourself through in the past day to be healthy by any stretch of the imagination." The soft kiss pressed just behind her ear seemed more tentative than usual. "I won't feel well until we've hashed things out. I plan on us staying in this bed as much as possible until you're well rested. Not a lie in sight."

With a smile tugging at her lips- while her resiliency might continually surprise her fiance, Winter's sneaky wordplay always got her- she detached her prosthetic, still clutching the ring box, and set it on the bedside table. "What are we going to do about Friday?"

"What do you want to do?" She laid her left over the arms around her waist, idly rubbing her fingers in small circles across smooth skin. "I can cancel the reservations and we can instead enjoy a nice, lazy night cuddled up on the couch. Or, we could go anyway and just have a nice, fancy dinner together. Or..." Yang tilted her head slightly, indicating she wanted to hear more. "Or, I can proceed with what I originally planned. A romantic meal, a heartfelt proposal, doves taking flight in the background."

The blonde's nose scrunched up. "You'd never use doves; you'll summon a flock of the little Nevermores."

A kiss against her shoulder. "You know me too well. Weiss thought it would be overkill."

"Well, tell you what. Since you already know my answer..." Yang turned, enough to draw the other woman into a tender kiss. "Go for broke- and I don't mean that literally. As much overkill as you want- go nuts." At the questioning look she received, the blonde chuckled. "Look, we both know we've been keeping little parts of ourselves hidden. Hasn't done us much good, has it?" She moved her hand, following the arm around her waist until she could lace their fingers together. "So let's show all of ourselves from now on, yeah? I know, somewhere deep down, you've got the heart of a true romantic. Let it shine."

"The part of me that's loved you since the very beginning is absolutely ecstatic about that." Winter frowned slightly. "But the military has taught me to be suspicious when I'm encouraged to make the first move."

"Yes, Snowdrift, you've ferreted out my secret plan." She leaned closer, lowering her voice while smirking. "I'm luring you into an ambush of love. All's fair, right?" Though her fiance rolled her eyes at the joke, they both laughed until she was tugged back to lie down in the bed proper. The other woman pulled the covers up to her elbow even as her eyes drifted closed, all her energy fleeing her in that moment. Had the thought not snuck to the forefront of her mind in that very moment, she would've dropped into unconsciousness right then, but it niggled, writhing around in her head. Finally, she figured out why, forcing her eyes open and rolling onto her back. "Winter?"

"Hmmm?" Laying on her right side with her head popped up, the other woman seemed genuinely concerned. "What's wrong, Yang? Is it too hot?" A brief pause. "Nevermind, you're never too hot. Perhaps-"

"Why aren't you holding me?" Lilac eyes pointedly fell on the space between them. It seemed they did, in fact, have some things to talk about once she took a nap.

While Winter would never admit to it, she had her tells. The brief tightening around her eyes, the twitch at her mouth- she'd hoped she was doing the right thing and felt a moment of doubt. "I... thought that... well... this is a bed and..."

"Most people sleep in beds, that doesn't make them sexual," she said, turning onto her side. Unfortunately, that meant her left arm was now against the mattress, which made reaching out a bit more difficult, but when she moved her right arm, her fiance understood, shuffling closer and wrapping an arm around her waist, high enough that her stump could rest on Winter's bicep. "We've been falling asleep in each other's arms for almost a year and a half. That's another thing I really like." A little chuckle passed her lips. "I guess I should've known you'd overreact."

"I am not overreacting." There was no severity to her voice, a ghost of a smile coming to her lips as the blonde gave her a challenging look. Carefully, Winter reached up and ran lithe fingers through blonde locks, nails scratching against her scalp- a still unfamiliar but pleasant sensation. "I almost lost you once through inattentiveness on my part. I'll not run that risk again." Something sparked deep in her eyes and she quickly rolled over, reaching for her scroll. "As a matter of fact, I'm going to do research."

"Research?" She yawned again, cutting off the obvious follow-up question.

"There have to be others with experiences similar to yours." The blonde could hear the typing, clicking of keys in absence of fingernails against the screen. "I'm sure a bit of digging will-" Winter paused, making a soft noise in the back of her throat after a few more taps. "Yang, have you ever heard the term 'asexual' before?"

"Yeah. Isn't that, like, a biology thing for single something organisms?"

"It's also an actual sexuality." Furrowing her brows, Yang looked over, prompting her to continue. "Listen to this: a person who has no sexual feelings or desires. An asexual is someone who does not experience sexual attraction." The woman looked away from her scroll. "Does that sound... well, accurate?" Almost dumbly, she nodded, allowing her fiance to continue reading aloud. "Unlike celibacy, which people choose, asexuality is an intrinsic part of who someone is. There is considerable diversity among the asexual community-"

She shifted, looking at the screen herself. "C-community? Did I hear that right?"

"You did, Sundrop." Winter's voice, soft in her ear, put into words something she'd hardly been able to think herself. "You're not alone; you're not broken. You just didn't know."

Impulsively, she made a grab for the scroll and her fiance let her, reading over her head as lilac eyes darted across the words while she sat up, pouring over the information. "I... have a flag?" She tilted the screen. "Look."

"I see. I think it's rather fetching," she replied, a smile on her lips. "I'm sure it comes in pins and patches, perhaps for your jacket?"

"Yeah... that sounds... really nice." Tears came to her eyes again but, for the first time in a while, they were the sort of overwhelming, happy type that she didn't bother holding back.

All this pain... and I just didn't know.

Yang tapped on the next page, and the next, drinking in the information like she'd been lost in a desert for years. It wasn't too far off from the truth. She'd delved into the fourth subpage went Winter pulled the scroll from her fingers, silencing any protest with a look.

"I promise, everything will be there when you wake up, but you need sleep right now." She set the scroll down, out of sight, and coaxed Yang to lay back down. "I'll even bookmark the pages. We can read through them together later, okay?"

"Okay." The agreement came with only a little reluctance, and if she hadn't felt the urge to yawn locking up her jaw she might've argued, but the woman had a point. "As soon as I wake up, we're going to have a long talk about all this." Yang scooted closer, tucking her head beneath her fiance's. "I can't believe I never thought to search for it. I- I thought it was just a phase, and then-"

"It's in the past, Sundrop." Although the blonde could feel how briefly it occurred, it still tugged her lips into a frown to feel the momentary shock that went through Winter's body, as if had to debate whether or not to move before settling against her.

"Still, I don't want you walking on eggshells around me." She moved forward just a bit more, burying her head in her fiance's chest. "You've done everything in your power to be the best partner anyone could ever ask for and I'm sorry for not telling you sooner."

Lips pressed against the top of her head. "Hush, now. Enough of that. We can't change the past, but we can look towards the future with hope."

"Speaking of that, the future I mean..." Her words were becoming a touch slurred as sleep called to her, the familiar presence of the woman's body lulling her to slumber more effectively than any lullaby. "How are you gonna... well... any thoughts on scratching the itch when it comes?"

"I realize it might come as a shock to you, but there's these wonderful inventions called 'vibrators', Yang."

The unexpected bluntness of the answer sent the blonde into a laughing fit and, when she looked up, she saw nothing but proud amusement reflecting in blue eyes.

In that moment, she knew they'd be alright.

"I love you, Snowdrift."

"I love you, too, Sundrop." Winter's mirth faded into a soft, happy smile. "Now, get some sleep."

Settling back down, Yang allowed her eyes to fall closed and fell asleep quickly, wrapped up in a loving embrace and thanking every lucky star she had that she hadn't made the biggest mistake of her life in the past twenty four hours. No doubt there would be trials ahead, and mistakes and misunderstandings and the like, but those would've come regardless. At least she could be secure in the knowledge that her future wife took them very seriously and would do her level best to be understanding, just as she needed to be patient.

After all... isn't that love?

#Elderburn #ace!Yang AU #TRR writes

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biofunmy · 6 years ago

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Tech Products We Tried And Loved In 2018

As tech and business reporters at BuzzFeed News, we love consuming stuff. This year, our obsessions weren’t limited to the buzziest new gadgets (we recommend LAST year’s iPhone, and the Facebook Portal is conspicuously absent from this list). We were also into all sorts of new apps, fun social media accounts, productivity hacks, and even just ways to…disconnect from technology. (Reading books! Doing jigsaw puzzles!) And yes, we also enjoyed weed vape pens.

Here are all the things that the BuzzFeed Tech and Business team tried this year and wholeheartedly recommends.

Customizing my PopSockets to show my cats’ faces — $15 each

I don’t need to go into all the ways that PopSockets greatly improve your life; my colleague Katie has already done that, naming it as her favorite tech thing of 2017 and talking about it nonstop all of last year. (I should know. I sit next to her in the BuzzFeed newsroom.)

Long story short, Katie convinced me too, but I took it a step even further by customizing my PopSockets with my cats’ faces. This is an easy thing. You basically take a picture of your beloved pet (or pets), photoshop out the background, and head over to the PopSocket “customizer” page. A pair cost me only $30. And you can switch out the design by popping off the top, so both Laser Beam and Vivienne get play on my phone.

Yes, this is something I show off to people at parties, frequently and obnoxiously. But now you can be that person too! Also, I’m planning to get a friend of ours a customized PopSocket with the face of his girlfriend on it as a prank Christmas gift. It’s gonna be great.

—Davey Alba

I don’t get why people like PopSockets. They are extremely uncool and bulky. Since I have a deep-seated fear of developing iPhone claw hand and a long history of dropping my phone and shattering screens (my claim to fame is that Bella Hadid and I go to the same screen repair place), I needed to find something that allowed me to hold my phone with my fingers but wasn’t totally lame. I noticed that my friend’s cool German mom was using a sleek iPhone strap at dinner one night, and I ordered one on Amazon for $2.50 less than a standard PopSocket. It lays completely flat and is the perfect size for my middle and ring finger. While I hear that PopSockets constantly break, my sturdy phone strap has never failed me. One time, a stranger on the subway asked me where I got it! I am a trendsetter.

—Maggie Schultz

The thing everyone asks me when I wear my computer glasses is: Do those things work? Well, if by “work,” you mean, “Do they make me look smart and cool?” — then yes. They work great. Do they actually do anything to protect my eyes from blue light? Idk, the science is fuzzy here.

I’ve been blessed with perfect vision, and I don’t need prescription glasses of any kind. But I’ve also been cursed with looking great in glasses! What’s a gal like me to do? Wearing fake glasses with no prescription is embarrassing; it’s something a mall emo teen would do. Computer glasses allow me all the glory of wearing “real” glasses without any visual impairment requirements!

The only downside is they have a slight blue tint, which makes them look different from actual glasses. But it’s probably not that noticeable, so I’m able to walk around looking like a certified genius while still maintaining my idiot lifestyle.

There are fancier versions of these glasses, and maybe those lenses actually do a better job of protecting your eyes. But I was in the market for something cheap, and Amazon had lots of styles under $25. I got a second pair for about $15 in pink plastic frames as well.

—Katie Notopoulos

Dosist pen — $40–$100 on Eaze (availability based on local state law)

I’m 46 and, frankly, I don’t want to get too high. Or arrested. Or smoke dope that’s been treated with something I use to drive my Honda. I don’t want to get blasted or brain-hammered. I have shit to do! But every once in a while I do like to, you know, take the edge off of life?

This is why I like the Dosist pen vape. It’s a self-contained oil vaporizer that delivers a measured dose of THC and CBD as you inhale, and then vibrates to let you know to stop. There are various “formulas” with different THC to CBD ratios, and other terpenes, designed to deliver specific types of highs. (I like Bliss.) It’s also reusable. When empty, you can bring it back to a store that sells them for a $5 deposit. Plus it’s available from various on-demand delivery services, such as Eaze, so you can have it at your door within about 10 minutes of deciding you need to, uh, unwind. Not bad!

—Mat Honan

Infinite content feeds that aren’t social media — various prices

2018 was the year I embraced the continuous scroll and the back catalogue. Long live the podcast feed, the extended playlist, and the audiobook. There were too many moments in 2017 when I was browsing Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram and asked myself, “What am I doing here? How have two hours passed? Is this why I can’t finish a book?” or exclaimed, “Holyshiteverythingissobad!” I was receding-hairline-deep in inane and stressful content, a condition that only encouraged stress and self-loathing. I needed a change.

So did I really listen to two years’ worth of Who? Weekly, a gossip podcast about C-list celebrities? The alternative was reading more Twitter takes about how and why the Russia investigation wound torturously on, so you fucking bet I did! Did I stream Abba’s entire discography on Spotify? It distracted me from the hellfires shrouding my apartment in ash, so I sure did! Was listening to 37 hours of The Brothers Karamazov‘s intellectual Russian family drama better than clicking on three gay thirst trap accounts in a row? YES.

—Blake Montgomery

Tabs. I tend to have a lot of them. As of writing this, I have 67 open across six windows, and many I don’t even remember clicking. There’s that big New York Times exposé on Donald Trump’s tax schemes, which I got halfway through before I was probably distracted by something dumb and meaningless on Twitter. There’s a friend’s 10,000-word essay I promised myself I’d read eventually. And there are three tabs of stale Twitter feeds I forgot to exit out of.

Tabs are the most obvious byproduct of my internet attention deficit disorder, the online exoskeletons of things my addled mind was interested in for about 10 minutes until a new shiny notification fluttered across my screen. Compared to others, my problem is probably mild. A colleague, whom I’ll leave unnamed, confided to me the other day that he had 2,193 tabs that he’s archived with an online tool. [Editor’s note: BuzzFeed News does NOT endorse Ryan’s tab strategy; it will slow your computer to a crawl.]

I have yet to download a tab manager — it’d probably just feed my habit — but I have found something else to cope with my issue. Audm, an iPhone app, streams audio read aloud by professional narrators of longform articles from outlets including the Atlantic, the New Yorker, and BuzzFeed News. Priced comparably with a newspaper or magazine subscription at $7.99 a month, Audm is perfect for long commutes and vacation road trips. Stories, of which there are more than 1,000 on the app, run anywhere from 15 minutes to 2 hours, and they sound exactly like a well-done audiobook. The content is also surprisingly fresh, with releases timed to magazine publication dates or within a few days of a story appearing online.

While the app is buggy (it takes a full minute to load and crashes about three times before I can get a working stream), it’s worth the wait. It’s transformed my morning train rides from a constant refreshing of Twitter, email, and Slack to one where I’m able to catch up on a subject I actually wanted to read about, a distraction from the distractions. And the best part is, when I get to work, I’m finally able to X out of one those tabs that I forgot about a few months ago.

—Ryan Mac

@_personals_ Instagram

I spend way too many nights scrolling through Instagram until I finally fall asleep. Some of my favorite posts are the ads on @_personals_, an Instagram-based dating community for queers. The account is inspired by old-school newspaper personals, and it’s so damn good.

The way it works: The small group running the account holds an open call for ad submissions and asks for a $5 donation. Throughout that month, the account posts the ads, including a cute emoji and the submitter’s Instagram handle so interested people can get in touch.

Here’s a sampling of the ads:

“Androfemme lesbian boy-child seeks co-collaborator in all things to eventually farm sheep, write books, & build a house with.”

“22/aries/tiny faggy nb boy iso non-monog partners for crafts & crafty fucking”

“25,enby femme. Half puppy half little. Bottom bitch. Lives to please but bratty & will make you earn it. Ask my mami. I’m worth it.”

“Wry & romantic, reserved (not timid) femme into questioning, clumsily cooking with patient people, & song. Actual tragic for musos, gentle tradies, & enthusiastic nerds.”

And all of this was posted just in the last week! I was introduced to this account to expand my dating options. But now I mainly read this account for the prose.

—Leticia Miranda

For the last few months, my world has been dark. It started when Apple added a new feature in the latest version of its Mac operating system that switches all menus and other parts of the user interface to blacks and grays. This makes it easier to look at your computer at night or in a dark room without squinting. Eventually I got so used to the look that all bright colors on any screen made my eyes hurt.

Fortunately, more and more tech companies seem to be building a “Dark Mode” into their products, and I’ve since switched to it on all the apps I use the most: on Instapaper to catch up on my reading, on Twitter when I’m scrolling through my timeline for hours, on the Kindle app to read books, on YouTube, and on Reddit, which added it earlier this year. Last week, I installed Dark Reader, a Chrome extension that makes all web pages dark by default, and a dark theme for Chrome that makes the browser’s tabs jet black.

Most of us can’t help being chained to our screens for unhealthy amounts of time each day, but turning on dark mode wherever possible is a tiny luxury we should all indulge in.

—Pranav Dixit

Headspace — $95.88/year subscription

For most of my life, hearing people talk about meditation would conjure up New Age visions of crossed legs and om-ing and marathon stretches of Nirvana-achieving trances. From afar, it seemed like an activity that required endless hours of devotion — more like a way of life than a healthy hobby. So to say I was extremely skeptical of app-based meditation would’ve been an understatement. At worst, it sounded like a scam; at best, a bastardization of a sacred kind of ritual.

I was wrong. A friend introduced me to Headspace after a conversation we had about productivity — specifically, how I’d found it nearly impossible to focus and structure my days without jumping haphazardly from tab to tab in my browser. And how I’d end even my best days feeling frazzled, detached, and legitimately unsure of what I’d just accomplished. On their advice, I bought myself a year’s subscription in order to incentivize actually creating a routine. I chose the Basics tutorial and tried a couple of five-minute sessions.

Unsurprisingly for a mindfulness app, the introduction to meditation is very calming and gentle. I learned that I’d been mostly wrong about the entire practice — devoting just 10 or 20 minutes a day (or whenever you have some downtime) can pay dividends quickly and improve focus. And the app — despite some corny animations — is full of guided, unguided, and semi-guided sessions that you can tailor to your day (helping to fall asleep, unwinding at the end of the day, focus before or after a workout, or just taking a breather).

I’m still no guru and I’ll admit I’ve struggled to sit down with Headspace reliably every day. But when I do, it’s immediately satisfying and is maybe the only thing on my phone that makes me feel good. The app-based part, of which I’d been so skeptical, is actually the part I find most essential in that it helps me take a few minutes for myself during random bits of downtime. It’s technology that introduces a little friction and reflection into my life, and for that I’m thankful.

—Charlie Warzel

10.

/remind command in Slack

You can set a bot to remind you of anything by just typing a command. It’s like having a personal assistant in the future, and it’s great for someone like me, who never leverages to-do lists or calendars to their full potential. You can set these reminders hours, days, or even weeks in advance by just typing a command. So for example, if I know I need to mail something when I get to work but am afraid I’ll forget to take it out of my backpack, I just set a Slack reminder for about 10 minutes after I expect to arrive at the office, and it reminds me to do it!

—Caroline O’Donovan

11.

Cutting the cord — Savings: $125.79/month

I can’t believe how long I let my cable company pump cash from my bank account. The last time I got a bill from Spectrum was in March. It was $208.26 for a “Triple Play” bundle: allegedly “fast and reliable” internet, cable (with HBO and DVR), and a fucking landline that I never even bothered to get a phone for. This package, according to a dubious customer service rep, was inexplicably cheaper than just ordering internet and cable separately without the unused landline, and it was the lowest price they could offer me, a customer of 10 years. Shit, right? The point had clearly arrived in my life when I had to decide whether I was willing to pay $2,499.12 a year to mindlessly flip through a-hundred-something channels when I was too bored to do anything else. But lame habits die hard, and it was comforting to know that I could always pull up some channel playing Friends reruns at the end of a long day. After painstakingly convincing my husband that he’d still have access to his precious, vital, life-sustaining ESPN through any number of streaming services, we made the irreversible leap to the land of the cordless, and my GOD, it has been wonderful.

We rebuilt our media habitat like this:

– An internet-only account on Verizon for $42.48 per month

– The cheapest Sling TV subscription (it has my essentials like CNN, Comedy Central, HGTV, BBC America for those great animal series, and TBS for Friends reruns, as well as ESPN for hubby) for $25 per month, and it came with a free Roku

– An HBO Now account that’s $14.99 per month

We also got a digital antenna for $14.99 plus tax, a one-time cost. There’s less content, but there hasn’t been a microsecond when I thought, Man, there’s not enough to watch. In fact, I might even say the quality of my media consumption has slightly improved since we cut the cord, as there are fewer channels that lure me into hours of accidental, regretful viewing. My programming has become more intentional. And the Roku universe is full of apps for free content like YouTube (and, ahem, BuzzFeed) and PBS Kids for my toddler. The free Roku Channel also has a boatload of free movies — not new releases, but stuff like Brooklyn, The Fighter, Spaceballs, and Braveheart: things you might have previously watched on DVD.

So I went from paying $208.26 per month to veg out with my TV to paying $82.47 to veg out with my TV. I am a step closer to entertainment enlightenment, my friends. As for the math: I’m saving $125.79 a month; which adds up to $1,509.48 per year! I intend on taking my family on a low-key getaway with this money, which is definitely going to be more memorable than 200 hours of MTV. I know people will ask “But what about DVR?” (it’s an extra $5 a month on Sling) and “Won’t all the streaming services you get to replace cable add up?” (it depends entirely on what you need, but a lot of my friends who have cable are ALSO paying for HBO or Netflix or Hulu already, so we’re possibly all oversubscribed). If there are cable-only programs that really add value to your life, then by all means, keep the cord and stay happy — I’ve just found that isn’t the case for me.

It’s possible that one day we’ll all be so dependent on cordless services that they will find ways to force customers to subscribe to bloated media packages. But for now, what’s not to love?

—Venessa Wong

12.

Buying last year’s model iPhone X (256GB edition) – $710

This year, I decided to switch from my Android back to an iPhone. I fly a lot to visit my parents in the Philippines, so I loved the cheap, convenient international coverage my Pixel’s Google’s Project Fi offered me ($10 per 1GB of data plus $20 for unlimited calls and texts!). But I missed the easy compatibility of the iPhone with other gadgets in my home, like my finicky Vizio soundbar.

But another difficult decision awaited me because 2018 was the year when choosing an iPhone became confusing as hell. The new iPhone XR’s upgrades were minimal compared to last year’s X, but the phone got wildly more expensive. So I got a used iPhone X (for a great deal, I might add) on the website Swappa.

My colleague Nicole Nguyen convinced me to make this call in her (excellent) iPhone XR review. Basically, a used iPhone X checks all the boxes in terms of positive qualities: It’s small-hand-friendly, has a super high-res screen, extra zoom, portrait mode, and is less than $1,000 to boot.

And hey, I was glad to hear some year-end 2018 news that aligns well with my choice: In November, Google renamed Project Fi to “Google Fi,” and announced that it would soon support a lot more phones, including my iPhone X. Huzzah!

—Davey Alba

13.

@girlshredclips Instagram

Back when I was a little girl living in the middle of nowhere and roaming around my rural town (population: 125) on my skateboard, I couldn’t have imagined that there were other girls who liked skating as much as I did. Anything I ever found online or in Thrasher magazine featured boys. Yes, there was occasionally Elissa Streamer, generally considered to be the first woman skater to go pro, and there were always bikini babes… but I couldn’t relate much to Ms. Streamer (more badass than I could ever hope to be), and I certainly was not a bikini babe. I never saw another skater like me (which is maybe not a surprise, considering how rarely I saw other people at all back then).

Now I’m a grown woman in a big city and skating less often than I used to, but my heart skips a beat anytime a post from @girlshredclips, @meowskateboards, or @skatelikeagirlsfbay pops up on my Instagram feed. Holy shit, these girls can shred.

Some are just little kids, some are my age, some are moms. Although they all skate better than me, I can see myself in them — past, present, and future — and it delights me to think that skater girls growing up in 2018 have plenty of relatable examples to keep in mind whenever some dude tells them that they’re posers. Yes, the internet can be a facilitator of chaos; Instagram and the other social media platforms can sometimes make you feel like you have a garbage life. But lady skater Instagram accounts bring me joy every day. (Pro tip: Unfollow people who make you feel bad about yourself; follow a few women who shred instead.)

—Samantha Oltman

When I go to a bar, I want to be able to hang out with friends and just, you know, talk to them at a normal human volume. But many food and drink establishments are so dang loud that you end up gesturing at, instead of conversing with, people. That’s why I am very into the free Soundprint app, which is only available for iOS but also has a website version. Soundprint publishes a list of quiet places in major cities, including New York, San Francisco, Philadelphia, and Las Vegas.

The Soundprint app shows you an average noise rating in decibels of the restaurants, bars, and coffee shops near you. The app calculates the rating based on “SoundCheck” submissions from users who allow the app to access their iPhone’s microphone to measure how loud the environment is. According to the app, a red rating (over 81 decibels) means a place is so loud that long exposure can cause hearing loss — and there are over a dozen establishments within a square mile of our office that fit that profile! Anyway, if you, like me, are a grumpy curmudgeon, this app is great if you want to find a quiet place to chat.

—Nicole Nguyen

The best thing to happen to my cat in 2018 was Mousr, a small, wheeled, AI robo-mouse he has embraced in a Milo and Otis kind of way — if Otis was a cat toy and Milo was a cat hellbent on its destruction. This is in no way an exaggeration. My cat has developed an almost pathological addiction to “Mr. Roboto,” which uses a small array of cameras, a “time-of-flight” sensor, and some other whiz-bang tech to convince him that it’s an actual mouse. Watching my cat playing with Mousr is like watching one of those slow-motion YouTube videos of cheetahs surprise-attacking gazelles. My cat talks to Mousr — with those same sinister chattering, chirping cat-sounds that typically signal imminent murder. My cat drags Mr. Roboto off its charging station when it’s recharging. This has become such a problem that we recently moved the charging station to the top of an armoire. The other night we heard a small crash downstairs. A few minutes later, our cat came upstairs proudly dragging Mr. Roboto by one of its custom tail attachments. He mewled at us until I pulled out a phone and fired up the app, which allows for both autonomous (wander, wall-hugger, and stationary) and remote control modes. Then he stalked, captured, and mercilessly beat the absolute shit out of it (donkey kick!). Happy kitty. Mousr retails for $149, which is outrageously expensive for a cat toy. But we are probably going to invest in one anyway (ours is a loaner); frankly, I��m not sure there’s any other option. My cat would kill me.

—John Paczkowski

Instagram is by far the app I am most addicted to — sometimes I’ll be scrolling through it, close the app, look around, and mechanically reopen it like some kind of zombie. I have the timer set to 20 minutes, which means I get the alert that it’s time to stop basically every day, sometimes even first thing in the morning! But even though the pop-up message usually makes me stick my tongue out at my phone and roll my eyes, it does break the spell and remind me to do something more useful with my time, like practice Italian on Duolingo. It’s not a cure-all, but it’s a nudge in the right direction in a world where software is almost always nudging you in the wrong direction.

—Caroline O’Donovan

17.

Sonos One — $199 (currently on sale for $179)

You move into an apartment and you get a couch, kitchenware, your bed. But after all those basics are set? An essential upgrade is filling your home with sound. In the continuing hellscape year that was 2018, there was one thing I realized could shift my mood in a small but significant way: playing whatever jam I was currently obsessed with on my Sonos One.

Sure, you can just blast your fave song loudly on your laptop, which I used to do. But then I decided I was going to be the grown-ass 30-year-old woman I am and splurged on a nice-sounding speaker. I went with Sonos because it’s the wireless speaker brand that’s widely known for high-quality sound. Against the wishes of my boyfriend, I bought a Sonos One, a speaker that integrates with voice assistants like Amazon’s Alexa. My boyfriend is freaked out by the idea of an always-on mic listening for a wake word. When I brought the Sonos home, I left the mic deactivated for weeks after setting it up — but I liked to know the option to use Alexa was there if I wanted it.

Then one day… I turned it on. I didn’t tell my boyfriend, I just set up the Sonos One with Alexa when he wasn’t around, and started talking to her. Whenever he came by, I pretended I was still committed to a life lived free of voice commands. But eventually, when we were talking about some song, I just blurted out: “Alexa. Play [song].”

Look, that first reveal wasn’t pleasant, but now my boyfriend has totally come around and yells at Alexa too. “What’s the weather?” “What time is it?” “Play [podcast].” My best troll is commanding Alexa to read an excerpt of an Atavist story he wrote a few years back out loud. He narrated it, so his voice comes through the speakers; you’ve never seen anyone shout, “Alexa, STOP!” so fast.

There are times when the speaker conks out and refuses to respond to me, but you know what? It’s a lot more fun having the thing in my apartment than not. And yeah, to a certain extent, my boyfriend and I have both warmed up to having a voice-activated gadget. The Sonos One is the first and last one I’ll be getting for my home, though. I promise, Joseph.

—Davey Alba

Hosted by Jane Marie, The Dream dives into the multilevel-marketing schemes that have overrun social media. MLMs like Herbalife, Mary Kay, and Amway have been around for a while, but a whole slew of weird new female-friendly ones that sell essential oils or athletic leggings have popped up recently. I’m fascinated by the role the internet has played in their explosion. The podcast talks to people who have been burned and lost money from these schemes. It also dives into the history of how MLMs came to be so popular over the last 50 years, and how the government has failed to rein them in. My favorite episodes are when a producer signs up for a cosmetic MLM and we get to see the details of just how it tricks the sellers into buying the product, losing money outright, and selling within a closed system.

—Katie Notopoulos

19.

2013 MacBook Pro — around $500 on eBay

I’m a sucker for shiny new gadgets, but my favorite piece of tech this year was my five-year-old MacBook Pro. It’s a late 2013 model with a 13-inch display and middling innards, and it’s been the workhorse I have relied on for everything from live-blogging Apple events to reporting from remote corners of the country.

OK, so it’s got some spots across the screen. The battery only runs about five hours before it needs to be plugged in. The spaces between the keys are grubby from the time I spilled tea into the keyboard and never quite managed to get the stains out completely (I let the laptop dry and it still worked like a champ!). And one of the speaker grills is bent from the time I banged it on my bed when I was annoyed with someone on the internet.

But I wouldn’t trade this for anything else, not even for one of Apple’s modern laptops that are thinner, lighter, sexier, pricier, and full of frills like a Touch Bar that nobody asked for or keyboards that can be destroyed by a single speck of dust.

As long as I can stream Netflix and browse the web without Chrome grinding to a halt, my old Macbook Pro is all I need.

—Pranav Dixit

Biking to work is awesome. You don’t have to be face-to-armpit against complete strangers on the bus. You get a little work out. It’s good for the environment, too! What’s not awesome is how dangerous biking on crowded city streets are. I was constantly yelling, “HEY, AHGGHBLERGH” after getting cut off by drivers or pummeled by Uber/Lyft passengers that don’t look over their shoulders before opening the car door.

That is, until I got this rad bell (lol, yes — a RAD BELL) called Spurcycle. It was a birthday gift, which I highly recommend, because at $49, it’s certainly pricier than other bike bells. I like this bell because it’s really small, but it rings very loudly, for an absurdly long time. If you don’t believe me, believe the thousands of people that backed this on Kickstarter in 2013, because they too were into loud little bike bells.

The ring isn’t obnoxious, like a car alarm. It’s nice, and using it is a really lovely way to tell cars, pedestrians, and ride-hail passengers “I’M HERE!!” without having to shout “I’M HERE!!”

—Nicole Nguyen

21.

Shortcut to creating a new Google Doc

I can’t believe I didn’t know about this until just recently, until after I saw someone tweet about it. As someone who primarily works in Google Docs — I use it for all my note-taking and writing — I open new docs all the time!

The shortcut lets you skip all the usual clicks required to open a new doc. Instead, you just type this URL: http://bit.ly/2VnNPmb. But even that’s not really convenient enough. So I dragged it onto my bookmarks bar, and now I have a handy button right in the middle of my browser for NEW DOC.

—Katie Notopoulos

22.

Wireless charging pad — $4

I got my wireless charger in the most discount scenario possible: on a Sunday evening as the Black Friday weekend sales entered their desperate final hours, in a Neiman Marcus outlet store where everything was 40% off, fished out of a giant bin of extra, extra discounted garbage positioned near the registers. It was four levels deep into an Inception-style discount world, it’s some no-brand piece of suspiciously light and hollow junk, and it ended up costing like four bucks. It was the best thing I bought in 2018.

The reason why is pretty simple: The first time you just put your phone down on the table and watch it begin charging — without any plugging in or fiddling around with a cable — is a legitimately magical experience. It’s one of those moments when a thing finally works the way you always wanted it to work, even if you didn’t know you wanted it to work that way. Think of the first time you experienced a real touchscreen phone — i.e., the first time you played with an iPhone — or the first time you put in your AirPods and experienced headphones the correct way.

It’s not a coincidence that both those examples were Apple products — while the company doesn’t tend to be the first to market with a new technology, it’s typically the first to bring a good version to market. There were crappy touchscreen Nokias years before the iPhone, and Bluetooth headphones have been a thing since those dorky headsets people were wearing in the early 2000s. They were all junk, and then Apple made the Correct Thing.

Maybe that’s what’s going on with wireless chargers now, because hardly anybody seems to be using them, despite them being pretty good. Apple seems to have completely screwed up in its attempts to launch its own extremely fancy one (and maybe given up entirely?) and the result is that the market lacks a certain halo of Apple approval and encouragement. But don’t let that stop you! Even my $4 piece of crap is *fantastic*, and everyone should have a wireless charging pad sitting on their desk at work and their bedside table at home.

Start by buying the cheapest one possible to get a feel for how they work; because they don’t need to pay the Apple tax levied on anything with a Lightning connector, they’re wildly cheap — cheaper than all but the cheapest regular iPhone charging cables. Here’s a probably-perfectly-fine Anker wireless charger for $12 — the same price as a six-foot Lightning cable from Amazon Basics. What are you waiting for? You have nothing to lose but your chains.

—Tom Gara

23.

Band Memes on Instagram

If you’ve read this far, I’m going to go ahead and guess you might have been not the coolest person in your high school (no offense). Perhaps you were even like me and played in the middle school or high school band — if so, these memes will be very relatable. I have found myself strangely overjoyed to find extremely niche relatable memes that are mostly made by and for high school students, but that I, an adult, can enjoy as well. This year, I joined an adult community concert band, and I’ve been so happy to play the bassoon in a group setting again. It also gives me an excuse to revive “playing in band” as part of my Personal Brand. And as part of my Personal Brand, I deserve to enjoy these wholesome memes.

—Katie Notopoulos

I love Apple’s AirPods wireless earbuds. I think they’re among the company’s best products and a reminder that Apple still has the chops to inspire that “sense of childlike wonder” that Steve Jobs used to talk about. Problem is, I no longer use them. For whatever reason — my overly large head, my poorly designed auricles, a shitty external auditory meatus — I have difficulty keeping my AirPods in my ears, or getting the type of fit that delivers good sound. I do not have this problem with Master & Dynamic’s MW07 True Wireless Earphones. They have detachable “Silicone Fit Wings,” which slot them securely into my outer ear, and they sound fucking fantastic. In fact, they are by far the best-sounding buds I’ve used. And they’d better be because they cost $299 (double Airpods’ $149). This is perhaps because they feature “custom 10mm high-performance Beryllium drivers,” are cloaked in “handcrafted acetate,” and come with a hefty stainless steel charging case (14 hours of additional charge) that might break a toe were you to drop it on one. I don’t need or care about any of those things. But as a big-headed, recovering audiophile, I am happy to pay for them if it means my earbuds will stay in my ears and reliably play “Master of Puppets” into them with solid sonic accuracy.

—John Paczkowski

In August, my wife, my dog, and I spent a weekend with friends in a rental cabin in New York’s Hudson River Valley. We planned on hiking the whole time, so of course it rained for two days straight. The options inside were limited to books, conversation, and wine — good enough for the Greeks, but not for me. I ransacked the cabinets. Scrabble, been there. Monopoly, done that. Then, at the back of the bottom shelf, I spied it: a jigsaw puzzle. And not any jigsaw puzzle, but a 1,000-piece warhorse from the bad boys at Ravensburger. When completed, “The Sanctuary of Knowledge” depicts an old couple reading by the fire in a cavernous Baroque library as fairies fly around them. (I took the fairies to be a metaphor for the magic of reading.) I’m like any other tech-addled thirtysomething (i.e., delayed gratification averse) but something about this wee old couple and their whimsical retirement made me want to dump the box out and get to work. So I did! — to the polite ambivalence of my friends.

I didn’t finish it. I got about a quarter of the way there and then we had to leave. But those few hours I spent matching shades of brown for the inlays on the vaulted shelves felt, I don’t know, therapeutic? Meditative? Purposeful? The puzzle didn’t come with an app or a leaderboard; it didn’t want to know anything about me or my friends; it couldn’t tell me the weather. Instead, it drew my mind and my fingers into a soothing little loop, never popping up with notifications, never leading me to other puzzles that secretly advocate for fascism, always with a discrete ending in sight. Good for me! I thought at the time, the completion of one-fourth of a moderately challenging puzzle was proof that there was still some gray matter left between the internet-sized holes in my brain. Bully for puzzles!

I ordered “The Sanctuary of Knowledge” on the car ride home. I’m saving it for a rainy day.

—Joseph Bernstein

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theconservativebrief · 7 years ago

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Gettin’ the Band Together, now playing on Broadway at the Belasco Theatre, is an original musical about a down-and-out stockbroker who gets his high school band back together in time to face off against his old rival in his New Jersey hometown’s Battle of the Bands.

That’s it. That’s the whole show. On paper, it sounds pretty boring: a stockbroker? An all-dude rock band? From Jersey? Is this really what the world needs in 2018?

But I suspected there must have been some reason that in this age of high-glitz adaptations of movies and other blockbusters, this unassuming original rock musical had struggled its way from a small-town Jersey stage to Broadway, and so I set out for the Belasco hoping to find magic and wisdom and a reflection of the self, or at the very least a fun evening.

The onstage story of Gettin’ the Band Back Together is a basic battle of good and evil — of following dreams versus settling for mundanity — playing out in song and dance. As a fellow theatergoer who’d already seen the show described it, it’s basically the movie Dodgeball but with rock music. And that’s not a bad thing, unless you hate fun.

Gettin’ the Band Back Together is a warm, infectious delight. Yes, it’s true that the show has been prominently panned because its shamelessly tropey plot is packed with dorky, improv-style humor that constantly pelts you with silly jokes, visual gags, cheesy puns, physical comedy, and references to other rock musicals. But it works anyway, because it’s performed with deep joy, it’s extremely well-sung, and it’s delivered with charm by an ensemble having the time of their lives. If you let all of these things speak to you, as you should, then at some point during the performance, you will inevitably reach that wonderful moment where you are laughing purely because you are laughing.

It’s this feeling that illustrates what ultimately made a lasting impression on me as I alternately laughed and cringed my way through the show: not the onstage battle between bands, but an offstage one. The musical that Gettin’ the Band Back Together is trying to be is distinctly at odds with the current Broadway culture — embodied by an unmoved audience at the performance I attended — that unfairly expects it to be something more.

The truth is that Gettin’ the Band Back Together is a delightful show. But even if it weren’t, I would be writing this review with my heart on my sleeve to tell you all to go see it, because it’s one of those musicals that earnestly strives to be exactly what it is: a good-hearted, shamelessly self-indulgent trope factory built on fun and silliness. And in this age of problematic faves and anxiety-laden media consumption, this show, practically wholesome in its throwback juvenilia, is the rare offering that isn’t going to make you feel bad for liking it — even though it’s inane.

In that spirit, it’s reminiscent of another recent tropey, heartwarming cultural offering: Netflix’s To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before. On some level, Gettin’ the Band Back Together is the movie’s Broadway equivalent — a sort of To All the Bands (or Least Rock Musicals) I’ve Loved Before. So what if its storyline is familiar? So what if it openly embraces every clichéd tale of down-and-out has-beens getting their groove back? Just like To All the Boys, its execution is solid, and its cast is charismatic. In essence, it’s a “cheesy cover band” equivalent of a rock musical. And that’s perfectly fine; after all, there’s a reason people love cheesy cover bands.

Put another way, Gettin’ the Band Back Together is one giant dad joke, if your dad were still a kid at heart, and that kid was a giant Nickelodeon fan who never got over Ren and Stimpy going downhill after season two, who secretly cried when My So-Called Life ended before Angela and Brian got together, who definitely got drunk at Bonnaroo and wrote “fuck Nickelback” on a fence while stoned; someone who, in adulthood, probably owns a Blu-ray of Drumline because he wants to be close to that movie in a physical way; someone who just wants his kid to be happy and kind and motivated by love rather than by a capitalist reading of the American dream.

The show sports a decently catchy, fun score by Mark Allen, making his Broadway debut. The cast — led by the charmingly winsome Mitchell Jarvis as Mitch, our stockbroker-cum-band reuniter, lover, dreamer, and Alex Brightman impersonator — performs it with loud conviction. But the real star of Gettin’ the Band Back Together is the book, which comes to us via veteran producer Ken Davenport and the improv comedy troupe Grundleshotz, in a literal “Hey, gang! Let’s put on a show!” process. (Among the Grundleshotz improv performers is Jay Klaitz, who doubles as Mitch’s MILF-obsessed, stoner best friend Bart.)

Grundleshotz, Davenport, and Allen have infused Gettin’ the Band Back Together with so much energy that it leaks out of the stage at random moments, punctuating an endless stream of jokes that succeed due to the sheer enthusiasm and dedication of the show’s cast, and to their own shameless silliness.

Writing down the jokes can’t translate their onstage effectiveness as a litany of Dadaist dork humor, but here are a few: There’s a dead cat. There’s a “nuns and roses” quip. There’s an R&B singer who turns love songs into domestic disputes. There’s a character whose only purpose in life is to take selfies. There’s a spray-tanned villain who drives a Pontiac Solstice and just wants to be loved. There’s a love ballad composed entirely of bad puns about police. There’s a running “your mom” gag. There’s every kind of New Jersey in-joke you can wedge into a two-hour running time. There’s a one-liner that’s such a cute, absurdist mix of juvenile humor and randomness that it literally stops the show.

I should repeat that: The songs are solid and fun, but it’s the jokes, not the songs, that you’ll remember.

Taken on their own, the jokes in Gettin’ the Band Back Together are nothing unique or exhilarating, but they work because the cast is so committed to selling them. In fact, I have rarely seen a more committed, joyous ensemble work so hard to win over a dead audience than I did during my Thursday night show. I’ve never seen a cast sing their hearts out with more glee and vibrance in the face of a crowd that clearly rejected the kind of show they were attending. Thank god for my seatmates Tyler and Bradley, who were there to see the show for the second time in a week, and who were living for Gettin’ the Band Back Together the way only we queer Broadway fans living through the homophobic cake years can.

“This is the kind of show I can take my Trump-voting brother to and we’ll bond over it,” Tyler told me before the show started.

“I cried,” Bradley added.

“It’s so dumb,” Tyler gushed to me at intermission. “It’s so dumb, isn’t it amazing?”

This show is so dumb, and it is amazing. It is so funny, so soft and joyous, that during intermission, I texted a friend who refused to come see it with me solely to upbraid her for her mistake. Meanwhile, my betrayer audience sat unmoved by the endless adorkable hilarity playing out in front of them. And every second that the sea of unenthused faces around me refused to be swept along by the ebullient hopes and dreams of a bunch of New Jersey ’90s kids who just wanted to have fun again, I resented not only them but the modern theater industry itself.

After all, only Broadway could build an American musical legacy out of exploiting camp for its cultural mileage, and yet somehow wind up increasingly abandoning ironic forms of entertainment — including “so bad it’s good” enjoyment.

In recent years, Broadway has conditioned audiences to expect either high-budget remakes with canned messages and blatant crowd-pandering (last season’s Spongebob comes to mind) or high-budget sophistication à la Dear Evan Hansen. Hell, even Gettin’ the Band Back Together, with its crop of references to aging rock artists, was designed to appeal to a certain crowd of baby boomers, to its detriment and their apathy.

But at heart, this isn’t a musical for boomers; instead, it represents and caters to the kind of media-savvy fan who fully embraces absurdity and silliness in their pop culture (the sillier, the better). As such, Gettin’ the Band Back Together desperately needs a younger audience, or at least a better older one.

Who were these people sitting around me who refused to show any enthusiasm for a stellar ensemble that served up some of the strongest group vocals I’ve heard since Evan Hansen? Who were these people who sat largely unmoved while our band of heroes rocked a bar mitzvah, reminisced about the roller coasters at Six Flags Great Adventure, and overcame numerous trials and obstacles to not only find love and happiness but receive a deus ex machina from none other than a fictional version of Aerosmith’s Joe Perry?

As it happened, a good portion of my fellow audience members had apparently come to see Gettin’ the Band Back Together because they’d received comped or discounted tickets as part of Broadway deal websites like Show Score. Through these kinds of watch-and-rate deals, some theatergoers — thanks to retirement, or sheer determination — are able to see upward of five shows a week.

That’s great for them, and ostensibly it should be good for shows that open in the summer, like this one. Late-summer Broadway openings tend to be rare for New York, because the tourist crowd doesn’t gravitate toward new releases that don’t already have strong buzz; you need New Yorkers to see those shows, and in August, they’re often away.

So these websites help fill seats during the offseason, which is a win. But it’s easy to see how they can hurt shows like this one, which wind up being viewed by an assembly line of people looking for deals first and feels second. It struck me that while teenage audiences were being encouraged, off-Broadway, to Be More Chill, on 44th Street, the cast of Gettin’ the Band Back Together was pleading with their older, middle-class audience to be less chill. And, miracle of miracles, eventually the audience at my show thawed out; gradually, more and more of them seemed to open their hearts to the silliness and sincerity of this show, its complete lack of irony and pretense, its sheer eagerness to make you laugh.

But they couldn’t have done it without my dudes Bradley and Tyler, whose constant laughter kept the orchestra section on life support all night. Late in the third act, veteran Marilu Henner, who plays Mitch’s mom with brassy warmth, came halfway up the aisle just to film the two of them — cast members breaking the fourth wall to film the audience is not an infrequent practice on Broadway these days, but rarely is it done with such specificity — as they lost their minds over the big finale number, when Mitch and the band finally play the Battle of the Bands. It’s exciting!

I was happy for them both, these pure-hearted theater lovers receiving a pure-hearted musical blessing, and feeding all their love and energy back to this hard-working, earnest cast. That is what we come to the theater for. That is Broadway at its core, stripped of size and massive budgets and pretension, until all that remains is love and communion.

At intermission, I’d overheard one of the comped five-show-a-week people say, with a shrug, “Maybe it’ll run for a few weeks.”

Fuck that.

Go see Gettin’ the Band Back Together. Enter with love and leave with laughter. May it, and all the other plucky, misunderstood musicals of its ilk, run forever.

Original Source -> Why critics are scorning new rock musical Gettin’ the Band Back Together — and why it deserves your love

via The Conservative Brief

#IFTTT #The Conservative Brief

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theworstbob · 8 years ago

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yellin’ at songs, week thirty-six

considering the songs which debuted on the billboard hot 100 the weeks of 13 september 1997, 15 september 2007, and 16 september 2017

9.13.1997

1) "Honey," by Mariah Carey

You know, when I saw this was coming up, I started wondering why I didn't give "Honey" nearly as much spin as I give to other Mariah jams. 'Cuz I'll listen to "Always Be My Baby" on a cloudy day, I'll listen to "Fantasy" whenever the fuck, I give "Heartbreaker" a lot of love, but this song, I understood to be a classic, but it never quite tickled my fantasy, y'know? And it's not just Mase, though he certainly doesn't help, it's more that this is more mellow than the Mariah songs I've been into, more of a chilled-out thing and not a dramatic declaration of love. It's a simple, sweet ;) song, and I mean I shouldn't be grading this on the Special Mariah Scale (where every song is either an A or an Inspirational Balld), this honestly probably ends up being Song of the Week because it's still really damn good, we're just talking about a Mariah joint that doesn't make the Mariah Top 10.

55) "You Light up My Life," by LeAnn Rimes

...So this is late because I saw 10 Lil Uzi Vert songs and got discouraged. No one who doesn't want to should have to listen to Lil Uzi Vert. So I also dragged my feet on getting everything else written -- welcome to Sunday, September 10th, when I am considering after five days of trying to find a reason to justify piping that into my ears I'm realizing that at least Lil Uzi Vert has some sort of definable character which I've decided I'm not into. Am I thrilled to listen to a song called "444+222?" Absolutely not, that sounds Stupid, and I'm not sure why hip-hop is getting into the same Hot Topic Goth imagery even the goths were over in 2007, but at least there's a definable character there. I will come away from those ten songs (eh, fuck it, I'll listen to the album, I listened to Drake's whole bullshit) having learned something about Lil Uzi Vert as a person, and spending an hour with something I don't like is a more valuable experience than spending three and a half minutes feeling nothing.

75) "Jack-Ass," by Beck

I didn't like listening to this song but Beck wrote it himself and played all the instruments so that means it's a truer artistic statement with significantly more intrinsic value than anything else we'll be discussing today.

76) "It's Alright," by Queen Latifah

I looked up the film where this osng came from, just because I wanted to know what the hell Nothing to Lose was that it would get the "Not Tonight" remix and this song, and apparently the movie isn't very good, but it does feature John C. McGinley and Giancarlo Esposito in feature roles! The soundtrack also has a track from OutKast called "Everlasting," and I just, how does this film get an original from OutKast? What is this movie? Is this worth seeing? It doesn't look very good and I would have to pay to watch it but I need to see how this movie brought the "Not Tonight" remix into existence.

79) "Tubthumping," by Chumbawumba

This song is gloriously and loudly stupid, and while it's also shitty, it at least owns how stupid it is. It revels in its own inanity, and I dunno, I think it has a lot of pluck. It's a charming little ditty. I understand why people would enjoy shouting with this song.

86) "Legend of a Cowgirl," by Imani Coppola

You know what? I think "Honey" is a better song than this, but I'm gonna give this the Song of the Week title because I think Mariah Carey has enough accolades, and this is an incredibly impressive effort. Even without the video, you can get a clear sense of who Imani Coppola is as an artist from this song, hear what she intends to be, and it's really cool to hear a song this ambitious and distinct. I'm not gonna put it on the level of "Felton St," I don't think this is an essential forgotten classic, but this is the rare song that sounds like the artist and not the '90s, and given that I hadn't actually heard of Imani Coppola to this point, that's extremely impressive. Also I'm listening to a song called "Geeks" by Hailey Knox which Coppola evidently co-wrote, and it's pretty amazing, too. Imani Coppola! She's great! Anyway, let's listen to Shaquille O'Neal rap.

91) "Man of Steel," by Shaquille O'Neal, Ice Cube, B-Real, Peter Gunz & KRS-One

KRS-One on "Step Into a World (Rapture's Delight):" "Yo I'm strictly about skills and dope lyrical coastin/Relying on talent, not marketing and promotion" KRS-One on "Men of Steel:" "KRS-One is the nicest/Shaquille O'Neal definitely from Men of Steel" Still better than Kendrick's verse on "Bad Blood" tbh

92) "I'm Not a Fool," by Immature

When Immature came up a few months back, did we discuss the silliness of naming an R&B group made up of teens Immature? That's a terrible name for this boy band! I have trouble believing a serious emotional ballad from a group that reminds me at the top they're idiots. ...You're right, I wasn't making this criticism of Backstreet Boys, it's a '90s R&B slow jam, I've listened to heckin 40 of these, I am so incredibly out of things to say. I'm sorry. I tried to find an angle, but it’s clear I failed.

9.15.2007

43) "Wadsyaname," Nelly

Heading into this song, I recalled the era where Nelly was trying to be a throwback ‘50s-like musician. “Tiltcha Head Back” is one of the top songs of the era, and given that “Candyman” dropped earlier in the year, I thought we’d still be getting retro Nelly. ...No. No, that is very much not what happened here. We got Bland Forgettable Nelly. There is a reason I didn’t remember this song as strongly as “Tiltcha Head Back,” and that’s because it’s kind of the worst thing in the world. Like I’m not listening to the songs on headphones these week, I am blasting these through the speakers, and this is the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever played. And like I listen to Twitch streams and country music. I am more worried that people will think I like this song than I am people will think I’m a Trump voter.

73) "More Than a Memory," Garth Brooks

Can I talk about the video I found for this song? So Garth Brooks is one of few artists big enough to fight Google, and it doesn’t look like his music’s easily searchable on The Web. The only videos I could find for this song were covers and that video, which is just a dude pointing a camera at his dog for four minutes. It’s so beautiful. That’s the saddest dog in the world. I don’t know how the ending happened but the ending happens and it’s so perfect, this is such a good video, A+ YouTubing, sir. I am glad to be one in your march to a million views.

78) "Coffee Shop," Yung Joc ft./Gorilla Zoe

I knew I was gonna like this song when I saw a tuba in the background of the video thumbnail, and I knew I was gonna kinda love this song when the video began with Yung Joc making a real estate investment -- a wise decision, and it’s important that this video chooses to represent prudent financial transactions. And sure enough, this song is absolutely delightful. That is a hot Southern pop/rap beat, and Joc and Zoe are way more impressive on this song than they have been on their previous songs. The central metaphor is what it is, the song is basic as hell, but yo, I’ll take basic as hell over what I thought this song was gonna be.

81) "Baby Don't Go," Fabolous ft./Jermaine Dupri

I can kinda see how my mood would affect how I listen to this song. This is peak generic 2007 hip-hop, so on a bad day, I’d just be like “enh, whatever,” but this caught me on a good day, y’lknow? 1997 was pretty chill, 2007′s been good for us after the Nelly travesty, I’m willing to be charitable to this song, even if I didn’t actually notice it had ended until a CarMax ad started playing. Suitable background noise for this fine Sunday morning!

90) "Money in the Bank," Swizz Beatz

Well. ...Well. There went that. OH WAIT I DIDN’T REALIZE WE WERE GONNA PIVOT INTO SOMETHING AMAZING HOLY SHIT IS THIS PROTO-”FAMOUS” DID SWIZZ BEATZ JUST GIVE ME A TEST DID HE JUST SAY “IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE ME AT MY FIRST 90 SECONDS OF THIS SONG YOU DON’T DESERVE ME AT THE LAST 90 SECONDS OF THIS SONG” OK OK I GET WHY THIS SONG EXISTS YAS YAAAAAAS

93) "How Far We've Come," matchbox twenty

This is OK. I dunno, I don’t think the purpose of YAS is to give an extended defense of matchbox twenty, but I have always liked matchbox twenty, and I’m not gonna sit here and try to make some effort to be cooler than that. I’m nowhere near cool enough to try to pretend I don’t think this song is at least okay, nor am I cool enough that I can’t admit hearing this song about legacies and approaching the end of the world had some resonance with my fears for the present day. I’m a fuckboy in his late 20s who is sitting in an apartment listening to and being affected by matchbox twenty. Please listen to my Lil Uzi Vert opinions. They are amazingly valid.

96) "Livin' Our Love Song," Jason Michael Carroll

“Somethin’ like this just doesn’t exist/Between a backwoods boy and a fairy tale princess” I can think of at least 20 other songs where this exact thing exists. We’ll always have “Alyssa Lies.” No one, not even you, can take that away from us.

98) "Hate That I Love You," Rihanna ft./Ne-Yo

Call it the “Honey” effect: I understand this to be a great song, but I never feel quite motivated to revisit it on a regular basis, simply because it’s just mellow and subtle and all those things. This song is great -- I talk about the dearth of duets in modern music, but this is one of the modern greats, and it should be cherished for that fact alone, shouldn’t be judged so unfairly against... The only other Rihanna song I’m judging it against is “Umbrella,” I realize. Is this the second-best song in Rihanna’s entire catalogue? Am I gonna spend the rest of my life Rihanna did her best work in 2007? Team, I am worried I’m a “BACK IN MY DAY” fogey. I enjoyed a matchbox twenty song and I’m arguing that Rihanna’s past her prime. What is this. What am I doing with this post.

9.16.2017

31) "Jocelyn Flores," by XXXTENTACION 41) "Fuck Love," by XXXTENTACION ft./Trippie Redd 54) "Everybody Dies in Their Nightmares," by XXXTENTACION 77) "Revenge," by XXXTENTACION 91) "Depression & Obsession," by XXXTENTACION 94) "Save Me," by XXXTENTACION 95) "Carry On," by XXXTENTACION

Instead of listening to these songs, I’m going to link to this article.

39) "The Way Life Goes," by Lil Uzi Vert 49) "Sauce it Up," by Lil Uzi Vert 60) "444+222," by Lil Uzi Vert 79) "Neon Guts," by Lil Uzi Vert ft./Pharrell Williams 80) "Two," by Lil Uzi Vert 81) "X," by Lil Uzi Vert 92) "For Real," by Lil Uzi Vert 84) "UnFazed," by Lil Uzi Vert 90) "No Sleep Leak," by Lil Uzi Vert 92) "Dark Queen," by Lil Uzi Vert

So basically I put this album and then played an LttP rando, and then I continued playing the rando while two other albums played (heckin hookshot was in a dumb location), and now I don’t remember anything about these songs. Like, they weren’t unpleasant. Lil Uzi Vert isn’t as trash as I was anticipating, but there was nothing I was able to derive from his particular brand of dark trap that I couldn’t get from any of the billion other dudes making dark trap. Like, legit, “444+222.” Maybe I let a song title influence my opinion on the rest of the work, but that’s dumb and this music is dumb.

73) "What Lovers Do," by Maroon 5 ft./SZA

Like all Maroon 5 songs, this is acceptable

76) "Light it Up," by Luke Bryan

I am actually angry that this song called “Light it Up” dares to be mid-tempo. No. No, no, bro country, you wanna be about lighting it up, your beat should be lit. This is a bro country song about Snapchat and the word ‘truck’ is in the chorus and I can’t believe I managed to make time for this. How did 2017 win 13 weeks of this deeply stupid competition. Why was there a guitar solo? Why do these songs make time for guitar solos? What even is this genre?

97) "Tell Me You Love Me," by Demi Lovato

THIS IS SO MUCH BETTER THAN “SORRY NOT SORRY” AND I AM BACK ON BOARD THE DEMI LOVATO TRAIN god damn like this week epitomizes 2017. Problematic people making shitty songs, miles of trap bullshit, not-unpleasant island vibes, awful country, and then a strong woman with a brass backing coming to save us all. My favorite genre of 2017 music is “young woman triumphantly belting over an army of horns,” and Demi Lovato has made my favorite version of that song yet. Hell yeah, man. I am incredibly into this. This single-handedly salvaged the 2017 leg, even if I had to put myself through a whole Lil Uzi Vert thing.

Who won the week?

Though I mean the whole Lil Uzi Vert and Luke Bryan of it all makes it impossible for Demi Lovato to win, like I’m not about to look at a 1997 that gave us “Honey” and “Legend of a Cowgirl” and say “No. XXXTENTACION’s such a broken beautiful soul.” It’s 1997.

Current standings: 1997: 13 2007: 11 2017: 12 Next week, I have no idea what any of the four songs 1997 has to offer are gonna be, we’re gonna talk about Alicia Keys and Britney and Good Charlotte from 2007, and oh boy new Tay Tay and Sam Smith so excited really can’t wait to sink into those f’real those are probably gonna be greaaaaaaaaaat songs i’ll enjoy forever Next week’s standings: 1997: 13 2007: 12 2017: 12 I mean what’s the point of pretending

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