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darker-soft-starker · 4 years

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Starker High School AU Pt. 7 (1...6)

tw: general Howard Stark warning

----

So, here’s the thing.

Peter meant to ask May about the letter the night he got it back from Tony, He really did. But then everyone was in such a good mood, he couldn’t bring himself to shatter that to satisfy his own curiosity.

So then he meant to ask the next day.

And he tries, he really does.

But the letter feels as heavy as an anvil in his desk drawer and Peter is too nervous to ask about it. Something always comes up or he gets too scared to shatter the image of the good, obedient nephew he is, one who doesn’t go rifling through mail not addressed to him, prying into personal business.

So he flusters and stumbles pretty badly for the first couple attempts. He changes topic quickly, pretending like he was going to ask about something else, asking himself where exactly his business ends and where his curiosity begins.

Once during a gymnastics comp he stopped mid routine to check on a rival who had fallen from the rings and injured themselves. His coach asked when he was going to stop being a goddamn martyr.

He shakes the Magic 8-Ball on Monday morning and asks the universe if it’s an appropriate time to approach May.

Reply hazy, try again.

Well, that’s not what his flagging courage had hoped for. He shakes it again.

Ask again later.

One more time, harder.

Better not tell you now.

“What the hell,” he whispers, placing it haphazardly upon where he took it. “That’s bullshit.”

“What’s with the potty mouth,” May asks suddenly from behind him. He turns as she’s affixing some dangling earrings to her ears. “What’s wrong, kiddo?”

“Nothing,” he sighs. “Just - do you have a minute?”

She checks her watch. “I have about forty seconds. Is something wrong - are you okay?”

“No - I mean yes, I’m okay. Are...are you?”

“Top of the world, bubby,” she scoops her keys from the bowl, approaching him with a curious expression. “Why do you ask?”

There’s no easy way to ask without blatantly admitting to going through her things, and the last thing he wants her to think is that she can’t trust him.

“I just mean. If you weren’t. If there was something wrong, you would tell me, right?”

“Of course,” her face falls. “You’re acting strange, Pete.”

“I just worry, that’s all.”

You’re all I have left, is what loops over and over in his mind, but doesn’t say. She seems to hear it anyway, rushing forward and kissing his forehead, her perfume filling his nose.

“Everything is fine, bubs. The second it isn’t, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Okay.”

“I gotta go, but stop worrying okay? That’s my job. You have a good day.”

She hurries to scoop up her handbag and closes the door before he’s broken out of his thoughts long enough to reply. He sighs and shakes the stupid ball again before he leaves as well.

Cannot predict now.

Of course.

Just for once he’d like fate to be firmly on his side.

---

Something smells weird.

It’s sharp, chemical and not entirely unpleasant. Noticeable, however, sharp enough to cut through the usual musty smell of the library. It’s like apple cider, but overpowers the usual library smell of old books and dust and pencil shavings, a scent Peter has long associated with study, solitude, and the easing of his anxious heart from a gallop to a steady stride.

It’s not a bad smell, just misplaced.

And Tony’s been acting strange all study period. Like, weirder than normal - and his resting state of normal is already ineffably frenetic and bewildering, so this was an entirely different carton of eggs.

Peter doesn’t exactly want to bring it up, they’re kind of on a tenuously peaceful truce, a silent lay down of arms, so to speak.

Well, as peaceful as a truce can be while they call each other all sorts of names and rib each other over literally any sign of weakness, but still. They have some sort of an understanding now, and it’s all relatively innocent, good natured banter.

Mostly.

Peter for sure could have done without being called fuck-face-mcgee upon entering the library, but he’s willing to let it pass. He was late, after all.

“Anyway,” Peter says, sitting across the table from Tony, “so I think if we removed the monthly gym membership, we’d have an extra sixty per month that could go towards other stuff.”

“Like what?” Tony’s face pinches.

“I don’t know, like a college fund?”

“Ridiculous idea. I need that membership,” Tony rebukes, shrugging his leather jacket off, hooking it over the back of the chair. “When else am I supposed to get a reprieve from you and the cabbage patch?”

“When do I get a reprieve? I’m the money-maker. When do I get my break from work and childcare?”

“At work. What are you, like an art teacher or something? Your whole day is like a rich, white woman's vacation. Parents don’t get a lunch break.”

“Right. I’m sure watching Dora and burping an infant is as hard as teaching a class of thirty.”

“Wow. So dismissive. I mean, if you were a good spouse, you would give your withered and weary husband a break from screaming babies and shitty diapers.”

“Mhmm. That would mean I’d have to do something nice for you, and that doesn’t sound like me.”

Tony shakes his head. “We’re getting a divorce as soon as Molly is old enough to pick me as the superior parent,” he points to Peter’s papers. “Put that in the notes.”

Peter closes his eyes and sighs, willing himself not to lean over the table and smack the other boy.

“You are not the superior parent. You’re the deadbeat that forgets to pick her up from school and day drinks.”

“And yet, she loves me the most. You’re just the breadwinner who comes home grumpy every evening. I’m the cool dad.”

“Fine, keep your druglord baby. I never wanted kids anyway.”

“Fine. I’m keeping the car.”

“I’m keeping the apartment.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

They snicker quietly in a rare moment of camaraderie before a lightbulb goes off in Peter's head.

“What if we used the membership, but cut costs elsewhere, like, cutting our own hair and stuff. We could save for a yearly holiday, go to the beach or something.”

“Florida! Disney, roadtrip, yes,” Tony clicks his fingers towards Peter, smiling wide. “Look at you getting all savvy. Call the judge, the marriage is back on.”

“You can’t go to Disney for a few hundred dollars, dumbass, that’s barely the price of admission,” Peter scribbles on his pad, making note of their ideas. “You ever been?”

“Nope.”

“Really?”

“Not even once.”

“That’s surprising. Isn’t that where all rich white people take their baby sociopaths to beat up their first mascot?”

“One, I was never a baby, I emerged fully grown, and two, could you imagine Howard Stark within a mile of the happiest place on earth? He’d have a fucking stroke,” his face changes like he’s had an epiphany. “Not a bad idea, actually.”

Peter doesn’t mention that he doesn’t personally know Howard Stark but is willing to take Tony’s assessment at face value. That being said, he can’t imagine Tony, now, voluntarily heading to Disney without coercion or the promise of copious quantities of alcohol. He’d probably smoke and cuss and scare away small children.

He mind lingers on that particular characterisation, and for a moment tries to picture what Tony looked like as a kid, if he was a chubby, toothless little brat, can’t help then imagining him with Mickey Mouse ears, gleefully running through his gigantic home, harried caretakers running after him.

He must have been the worst.

“I’ve never been further than Washington,” Peter offers, “but that was for AcDec, so it wasn’t like we got to see much.”

“You did Academic Decathlon?”

“Yep.”

“Ew, why would you do that to yourself.”

“I still do it. It looks good on college applications and it’s fun,” he shrugs. “I like it. I’m good at it.”

Tony’s hands cover his mouth, but it doesn’t stifle the rising apple of his cheeks or the mirth in his voice.

“I’m feeling so much second-hand embarrassment for you right now.”

“Shut up,” Peter huffs, kicking him under the table, satisfied when the other boy winces. He fails to smother his own wince when he gets a kick in return, right in the kneecap. “Nothing wrong with being an intellectual.”

“You’re a fucking nerd, four-eyes.”

“What about you?” Peter rolls his eyes, keen to change the subject. “Been outside New York?”

Tony shrugs, tapping his pen on the pad, looking anywhere but at him. “When I was younger I’d sometimes go on my dad's business trips to Europe or Japan or whatever. And we have a house in Malibu.”

“That sounds awesome.”

Tony snorts. He shuffles on his seat, sliding their notes over and making further amendments in quick strokes, the cheap pen spurting bright red ink over the paper like arterial spray.

“Oh yeah, it was a real blast.”

Spoiled brat.

“Are you going anywhere for Thanksgiving?”

“With my family?” Tony looks up. “No, I’d rather stick my head up a turkey’s ass. You?”

Without warning, Peter’s hand flies to cover his mouth, unable to but snort at the imagery, He’s not sure if Tony just doesn’t get along with his family or if he’s still stuck in that churlish, ‘too cool to be around my parents’ stage of adolescence. It’s one the idiosyncrasies that would have annoyed Peter before, his ungratefulness of having a family that’s still alive would be just another thing for Peter to hate him for.

Now, he thinks, he’s beginning to parse out when Tony’s being sincere and when he’s hyperbolic, finally recognising the latter as a mechanism to throw someone off a topic that makes Tony uncomfortable. He sees it - the warning lights and stop signs in barbed coding, wrapped up in dry wit and sarcasm.

Peter is like that sometimes, too.

And what the hell would Peter know about having a normal family.

“Yeah, actually, for once,” he says softly. “My aunt - not May - and uncle have a holiday home up north, so we’re staying with them over the long weekend.”

“S’cool. May’s family?”

Peter shakes his head. “Sort of - they’re not actually related, but May and Margaret have been best friends since college, so.”

“Is Margaret a babe, too?”

Peter throw a chewed-up pencil at him that he catches easily.

“Don’t be gross.”

“I’m not,” he throws the pencil back, overshooting and hitting the shelves behind them. “What are we talking, on a scale of haggard to hottie.”

“I don’t know, man. You seem to have questionable taste in the people you are attracted to.”

Tony grins crookedly, eyes shining with something Peter can’t decipher. “Ain't that the truth.”

“What’s the supposed to --” he stops himself, suddenly recognising what the strange scent was that he’d been picking up. “Wait - dude, are you wearing cologne?”

Tony’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he responds. “No,” he denies, just as the bell rings. “Oh, look at that, time to get to class.”

Saved by the bell.

“So, this is it,” Tony nods, shutting the lid of his laptop as the bell signals the end of their free period. “We’re done. The assignment. That’s the last of it, right?”

Dazedly, he watches Tony stuffing his laptop and notes into his backpack, brow creasing as his mind catches up.

“Uh, yeah. I guess.”

“Send me your notes tonight, I’ll stitch them together with mine and send them back.”

“Okay,” he sluggishly collects his own notes, picking up the bag by his feet. “That’s - that’s good.”

“Well, Parker,” Tony slings his backpack on his shoulder, shuffling backwards, “we didn’t kill each other. I mean, not for a lack of wanting on my behalf.”

‘’Yeah, from Wednesday we’re free. We can go back to normal.”

“Yeah,” Tony’s grin fades. They stare at each other for a long moment that could have been seconds or hours, he doesn’t know, until the second bell rings.

“Hey, um --”

“I’ll send you the notes later,” Tony interrupts, sotto voce. “I gotta get to class. See you around.”

Something in his stomach deflates, sadly and slowly, like a balloon with a pinprick, emptying itself until it’s an uncomfortably hard to digest crumpled mass at the base of his stomach. He pastes on a smile and looks out the window, hoping the feeling doesn’t show in his eyes.

That’s when he notices the leather jacket Tony has left behind, still slung over the back of the chair.

“You left your…” he trails off, turning back, but Tony is already long gone, probably already halfway to his next class. Like a bat out of hell, Peter thinks wryly, picking up the jacket, the leather smooth like butter under his touch, still warm around the collar where Tony’s had been leaning against it.

No good leaving it here to get stolen or be tossed into lost property. He decides to take it with him, folding it gently over his arm. He’ll give it back when he sees him again, maybe after school.

“Nice jacket, Parker,” Flash says approvingly when Peter bumps into him out in the hall.

At first he thinks he’s referring to Peter’s ratty hoodie, and it confounds him for a moment because it’s decidedly not nice, but then he realizes he’s referring to the leather in his arms.

“It’s not mine,” he replies a little too late, because Flash is already down the hall, out of earshot.

Peter sighs. It’s beginning to become a depressing theme.

---

The weird feeling in his chest doesn’t subside all afternoon, and into the evening Peter is starting to think maybe he just has indigestion, like acid reflux or something. Must be the chilli surprise from lunch. Maybe he’d missed his meds.

He sends his portion of the final notes to Tony’s email, turns off his computer and switches on Colbert.

---

It’s not until hours later, well after midnight and the infomercials are playing, only then does his phone buzz against his thigh with a response.

Figures that Tony would be a night owl like him.

> soz was distracted > youtube spiral

Peter shifts downwards on the bed, holding the phone over his face. < s’ok < what were you watching > say yes to the dress < lmao really > lol no > anyway, looks good. ur notes > will print off for u to sign tomorrow < is that a compliment or an admission u were wrong about me

> neither. One subject does not a genius make > unlike me, an actual genius

In your dreams, dipshit, he wants to type, but doesn’t, not really keen to provoke a muddy discussion on who is the smartest (it’s definitely Peter).

< u left ur jacket in the library btw, I have it, he texts instead, his pulse jumping when Tony replies with crying emoji’s.

Tony sends him a snap, unexpectedly, a sad face that makes Peter snort. His face seems distressed, the caption reads, thought i lost it for good.

Shifting down further on the bed, he’s feeling suddenly and inexplicably courageous, fire burning up from his belly button to his fingers.

Peter takes a silly photo of himself and sends it back. > didn’t want it to get stolen < aw u care

“I do not,” he whispers to himself. > i do not. come collect it after school tomorrow or im throwing it out. < u wouldn’t do that to me > there’s a lot of things i would do 2 u > .... > um > lol

Peter’s face flames at the implication. He reads over what he just so carelessly typed, stomach positively knotted with embarrassment. Oh god, that is not what he meant. His fingers fly over the screen at record speed as he types out a response. < NOT LIKE THAT < I MEANT IT IN A THREATENING WAY < I’M LITERALLY GAGGING > yikes > ur dirty talk needs work < no it DOESN’T bc we’re not sexting > sure jan > damn. didn’t kno u had it in u bubs < i don’t have it in me > not yet > ;)

Despite the deep blush still heating his face and his heart galloping in his chest, a laugh breaks out of him. The phone in his hand vibrates again. > jk jk, not ever > need to bleach my brain now

Slowly gliding back to earth he types out a response. < ikr me too < ugh.

He puts his phone down on the bed, looking up at the water-stained ceiling, amusement slowly fading. His pulse though, that doesn’t return to normal.

How could it when his mind suddenly runs away from him, evoking short-lived, but nonetheless strikingly vivid images of intertwined legs, planes of pale skin, and lush lips. How can the heat in his stomach escape when his thoughts conjure phantom sensations of a soft mouth sucking on his neck, the punishing grip of hands on his hips and the warmth and weight of another body on top of his own.

A forehead leaning against his, brown eyes that knocked his pulse off kilter.

The taste of nicotine.

Stop it.

That is dangerous territory right there. And a line he doesn’t want to cross.

Shaking his head, Peter swings his legs over the side of the bed and sits up, looking anywhere for a distraction; his window, the posters on his wall, his figurines on his shelves, anything to douse the low-burning fire in his gut.

Standing, he heads to the bathroom to get ready for bed, banging their crappy old heater with his fist to get it working again.

He takes a very cold shower.

----

It’s not that Peter doesn’t enjoy sex.

Not that he’s had it.

But he enjoys jerking off, at least. Like a regular amount, whatever that is for a teenage boy. He likes kissing. Likes thinking about one day being in a real relationship and exploring someone's body and he likes exploring what turns him on and what he doesn’t.

It’s just that he doesn’t let himself think of anyone he knows personally that way, no matter how conventionally attractive they are - not Thor, and especially not him.

Typically, his fantasies are people with vague features, sometimes with bodies like those he has seen in porn, all shapes and sizes. And that’s safe for him.

He doesn’t want to have to look anyone he knows in the eye and wonder what their lips would feel like pressed against his own. If they’re any good at kissing. If they’re the type to take control or cede it.

He does wonder, sometimes though. No matter how much he denies what or who he wants.

Because it doesn’t matter if it’s a person or a thing. Want is never superficial in his experience, it doesn’t feel good most of the time. It’s deep and sometimes dark, it sinks itself into him with its hooks and it tugs, and keeps tugging. It yields to craving and yearning.

Back in his bedroom, his eyes land on his wall-mounted mirror. It’s small. Like the Mona Lisa. Small enough that he doesn’t have to see his whole reflection if he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t want to crave and yearn for anybody, because he knows it will always be one sided. He’s well aware that he isn’t exactly centrefold material.

Who is gonna look at his weird ears or thin lips, and think, shit, that’s the guy of my dreams. Not with his big glasses or the way his hair twists itself into frizzy, unruly curls once the gel wears off and he starts looking like an unkempt labradoodle.

Who would want to wake up next to him? No one.

So it’s better not to risk imagining anyone real. It’s only in his head that anyone could ever want him back.

His eyes go from the mirror to the jacket folded and placed on his desk. It was intended to be plain sight so he remembers to bring it in - out of sight, out of mind, is what Ben would say. He can still smell the cologne Tony denied wearing earlier.

Once he’s in bed, he turns to face the wall.

Out of sight, out of mind.

---

Maybe Tony subscribes to that mantra as well.

Peter forgets to bring the jacket in all week and Tony doesn’t ask.

---

Danvers wants him fit and ready to be harpooned into the mud by next week; that’s why she looks the other way when Thor and Peter take their informal training in the boundaries of the field, stretching out on the grass as the JV team runs their usual morning drills - drills Peter would have been a part of before his stupid injury and his stupid wrist-brace.

This school is stupid too. Now he has to pay to see a doctor so he can get medically cleared for a sport he doesn’t really care that much about.

Like he didn’t have enough medical bills to deal with.

In any case, he’s not really in a position to complain, because he has the opportunity now to run through his warm-up with Thor, who is taking his direction to spread his legs into a butterfly position so beautifully, even as his knees raise from the ground to make a v-shape, whereas Peter’s lie flat on the grass.

If the last few days had been different, he might have blushed and used the situation at hand as an opening to place his hands on Thor’s knees and applied pressure. But now he just smiles encouragingly and reminds himself that he has no chance - no place - and his hands do not belong anywhere but his own body.

And surprisingly enough, he’s okay about it all.

Thor was a good guy. Peter will never say no to having more friends.

It’s a dreadful, bitter morning. Icy cold, wind biting into his shirt, the grass below them is damp. He has to keep rubbing his hands together so he can restore feeling in his fingers.

To make things worse, Tony is back on the bleachers. White v-neck, jeans and dark sunglasses. Sprawled out over a set of steps, legs askew, arms behind his head, unmoving as if he were napping or sunbathing, appearing like a cocky main out of an eighties movie.

Or a king surveying his kingdom.

Rhodes and Potts slouch on either side of him, swapping phones over his idle figure, taking pictures and laughing amongst themselves.

“It burns,” Thor says lightly, hands on his thighs in an attempt to aim his knees to touch the ground.

“Yeah,” Peter agrees, despite the ease in which he can lean in. “It just takes practice, dude. Twenty minutes a day, warm up and don’t over-do it. You’ll be limber in no time.”

“You can do this better than I can,” Thor argues, accent thick as he tries to lie flat like Peter.

“And you can lift a hundred pounds better than I can,” he tries to rebut, even as they switch positions, hip flexors aching with old injuries.

While the stretches are like second nature, he doesn’t miss the pressure of training for competition. The eagerness to get into a flat butterfly or oversplit. There was no argument that he spent nights on crunches back then, and he was somewhat toned - but he was shit at weight training. He hated lifting. Reps were more boring, more tedious and difficult and the diet required to give them any value was frankly not worth giving up a great hotdog or a loaded sub from Delmars. He wouldn’t go back to it now.

None of that old heat is there when he inspects Thor’s form. That quick simmer, the call to be closer. That terrible thing, want. All but gone. awe is still there, as he suspects it always would be with someone as outstanding as Thor, but the butterflies have very much flown away.

As he suspected would be the case. He has someone and they’re happy. With the cat out of the bag Thor had shown Peter pictures of his boyfriend all morning. He’d gotten a puppy, apparently, which just tickled Thor. He was so happy it was almost sickening.

When is it gonna be him that sickens someone with photo’s of his partner?

“Hey, Parker,” Tony yells from the stands, “you suck!”

Looking over, the idiot is raised on his elbows and grinning, like he’s proud of himself for a spectacularly unoriginal insult.

Rolling his eyes, Peter gives him the finger and he gets one in return.

His stomach twists and he has to duck his head to conceal his smile.

“Your husband is somewhat rude,” Thor says, following Peter’s example and switching from a pike to a lunge.

Peter looks back over to the stands. A cigarette now dangles between Tony’s full lips, sunglasses slid to the tip of his nose.

That’s how Peter knows he’s looking at him too.

Even from afar his eyes are round and mirthful, framed with ridiculously long lashes like a cartoon mouse, far too outlandish for any real person to have.

“He’s the absolute worst,” Peter bites his bottom lip, quickly averting his gaze. “It was an arranged marriage, to be fair.”

---

Wednesday comes and goes.

Their assignment gets handed in, Peter signs it off to say he did his fair portion of the work and Miss Ahn beams at the both of them when she is handed the thick binder, looking all too pleased with herself.

They have a presentation of their work next week, after Thanksgiving, each pair expected to give five minutes of their life pretending that they’re passionate about schoolwork in front of their fellow students who don’t care.

After that they are completely unburdened. No study sessions, no car rides, and no fries dipped in milkshakes.

They’re embarrassingly hailed as a prime example of people working through their differences, as if they had come together and were now friends or something.

From the front row Tony sneaks a furtive glance at Peter when she applauds them to the class.

“See, kids,” she says, “it wasn’t so bad working together, was it?”

Their eyes meet briefly.

“Zero out of ten, would not do again,” Tony declares, brash and loud, kicking his combat boots onto his desk in a leisurely display.. “That guy is the human equivalent of watching paint dry. Awful.”

“Oh, come on,” she chides. “Be nice.”

Not one to be outdone, Peter lets his horse out of the gate too.

“Singular worst experience of my life. I once had a root canal without anaesthetic and it was less painful than working with him.”

“Alright, boys, that’s enough out of you,” Miss Ahn sighs deeply, walking to the front of the room. “Mr Lang, how did you find the assignment?”

“Very informative…”

From the front row Tony turns in his seat and winks at him.

----

“Thanksgiving plans?” Natasha asks, leaning beside his locker, smothering a smile as he struggles to get his locker open for the nth time that day with one functional hand.

“Visiting my Aunt and Uncle,” he says, finally prying the damn thing open. “They’ve got a place up at Otisco Lake, so. Probably watching old movies and swimming all weekend.”

“Oof,” his friend winces. “That’s a trip. Think the May-Mobile will make the distance?”

The May-Mobile of course to the ancient, ‘89 Volvo 240 that May has been driving ever since Peter was born. She adores it and refuses to trade in, despite the fact that it rarely gets driven, practically haemorrhages gas, and has cost more in repairs in the last five years than the actual value of the car. But May really loves it. It's sentimental. She says it was the car Ben and her picked out together.

“It better make it,” he dumps his books in, closing the locker. “I don’t want to spend the weekend waiting for AAA in the middle of nowhere. What’s your plans?”

She shrugs, walking with him down the hall.

“Probably go and annoy Yelena. Was supposed to spend it with Bucky and his mom, but that ain't happening.”

He bumps her shoulder sympathetically. “Do you think you two will get back together?”

“Probably. But he’s got a shitload of grovelling to do first.”

“Don’t maim him, please. We need him on the team.”

“No promises.”

“Speak of the devil,” Peter adjusts his glasses, spotting Bucky at the base of the stairs talking to somebody. He gets startled, heart jumping when Natasha grabs him by the waist, pushing him towards the wall and inching them closer to the stairs.

“What are you --”

“ -- Shh, I want to listen. Who is he talking to?”

Craning his head, he finds himself in for another surprise when he sees that the other person he’s talking to is --

“He’s… he’s talking to Stark - what...?”

She shushes him again and Peter listens, curious now too.

“... what do you want, Barnes?” Tony visibly grimaces, taking a cigarette from his pocket and tucking it behind his ear. “Make it quick. I got places to be and your noxious stench gives me headaches.”

An announcement goes off over the loudspeaker over their head, calling for Brendon Bennett, a dick of a senior, to move his car from where he has blocked a teacher from leaving. It would be funny at any other time, but as it goes, he misses a chunk of their conversation.

“...Rogers isn’t the boss of me.”

“Yes, he is, and I’m not getting suspended again because you’re a pussy and he has roid-rage.”

“I just need an ETA. C’mon, pal, I really need this.”

“I’m not your pal and I don’t give a flying fuck what you need.”

Ever the easy going guy, Bucky puts his hands up placatingly as a group of students file down the stairs, causing enough noise that Peter misses whatever is said next. As he strains to hear he tries to draw the line between the dots, but comes up short on exactly how these two are connected.

“That fucker,” Natasha mutters near his ear.

By the time the students clear, Tony’s descended the stairs and begun to walk away

“I have better things to do than to sit around and wait for you,” Bucky calls out, giving him the finger.”

“And yet you will.”

Not in any possible lifetime was Peter going to address that he was weirdly relieved that Tony didn’t flip him off in return, some part of him petulantly thinking that’s our thing, but that’s wrong - Peter and Tony are not friends and they do not have things, even when they do, it’s not like a thing thing.

Nat grips his hand and pulls him along when Bucky leaves as well, swiftly walking away to avoid being caught. His backpack jostles at the speed and he realizes he’s still clutching Tony's jacket from where he had retrieved it from his locker.

“What was that about?” He asks, struggling to keep up with his friend's furious pace as he’s led down the hall. “Tash?”

She drops his hand once they are outside, her disapproval near palpable, voice laden with fire and fury.

“That’s Bucky being a world class idiot, he’s gonna get himself expelled, I swear.”

Peter stops on the spot.

“Expelled?”

Something dark curls unpleasantly in his gut, heavy and not leaving.

“They have a thing,” she explains hotly, mouth turning down. “Bucky and Stark.”

“What?” Peter breathes, uncomfortably thinking back to the party and the way Bucky overtly complimented Tony’s body. “Like a.... like a sex thing? Did he cheat on you?”

“What? No.”

“Then what?”

Red strands whipping in the wind, his friend looks around to see if there is anyone nearby before leaning in to speak low. He leans in too, unabashedly curious.

“Do you remember when Bucky was having issues with his parents when school started?”

He nods, thinking back to the times Bucky slept over in the late days of summer and early weeks of the school year, once or twice a week to get away from the shouting in his own home.

Natasha continues.

“Don’t tell him I told you this, but he got really depressed and fell behind with his work and everything he was handing in was terrible. Danvers pulled him up and said if he didn’t get his grades up, he’d be risking his spot on the team. So Bucky paid Stark to write up a few assignments for him, apparently he was doing it for a few kids, like it was a thing.”

...Okay.

That was not good, and definitely disappointing, but -

“Rogers found out. He gave Bucky a warning, but with Stark he threatened to go to Fury.”

Peter thinks back to the fight between their captain and Stark and their fight not long ago. “That’s why they…”

“I’m told Stark snapped, but I don’t know. I found out about the whole paper thing after that and me and Buck fought about it. I just got so mad - he’s - he’s not stupid, you know?”

“I know.”

She exhales heavily through her nose. “He’s going to get himself kicked out of school and I’m so -- I could kill him. We’re supposed to graduate together and get away from our families and go to college, and then he does this.”

“I’m sorry, Tash, I didn’t know,” he hugs her, her body going stiff before relaxing in his hold. “That’s shitty. For both of you.”

“I’m sorry for thinking you were in on the loop.”

He smiles, self-deprecating.

“Nope, I’m as clueless as ever.”

“No, you’re just too good for that,” she shakes her head. “Look, I gotta go and blow off some steam. Please don’t tell anybody about all this.”

“I won't, I swear - but text me later, alright? Let me know you’re okay.”

She ruffles his hair before stepping back.

“You’re a bleeding heart, PP. Keep an eye on that, will you?”

Hearing a squeal of tyres, he whips his head around to the parking lot, the source of the noise. The Firebird squeals out of the lot and onto the road, the sound as angry, the glimpse Peter gets of Tony’s face, even angrier.

He turns back to Nat, but she’s already walked away. Which means she isn’t there to hear him mutter to himself.

“What are you getting into, Tony?”

----

His thumbs hover over his phone that night, as he writes i saw u with barnes today.

He quickly deletes that, not wanting Tony to think that he was following him or spying on him - or worse, thinking that Peter actually cares about what he does. He doesn’t. They’re not friends.

A dread settles in the spaces between his ribs, like thread trying to squeeze them together too tight, his lungs feeling compressed. Maybe it’s his asthma, or allergies.

It’s not and he knows it. He’s disappointed.

He rubs at his chest on his way home thinking about the scene they just saw and about what Natasha said. How is it that so many people in his orbit had this entire entanglement going on without Peter having any whiff of it? It really makes him wonder if they were they good at hiding it or was he just really fucking stupid. Stupid enough to think Bucky was doing okay, that Rogers wasn’t as sanctimonious as he appeared to be, and that Tony was --

Nevermind.

It’s none of his business and it’s not his place.

He knows better than to ask. It’s not as if he can forget all his own secrets that he clutches tightly to his chest, so tight it feels like he constantly walks through life with his fists clenched.

That and, like May, the real truth is that he can’t claim any entitlement to their trust. He eavesdropped in more ways than one these last two weeks. He tries to brush off that dry, sobering thought; it’s none of his business anyway and he has enough on his plate without getting involved.

When are you going to stop being such a goddamned martyr.

So then he thinks about the sheer fury on Tony’s face, how his - how he used to look at Peter the same way, and how Peter used to think that angry and bitter was Tony's default mood. That was that. The status quo.

Well, that wasn’t entirely fair, was it. It was easier to dislike Tony when he was distant enough that Peter could pigeon-hole him into a stereotype.

Because Tony got into fights, sure, countless and petty, but he was the guy who pet puppies and snuck them food under the table. Not the guy who kicked them.

He looked like the puppy that was kicked, though.

Not angry.

Wounded.

And that’s what confuses Peter. Turns out he doesn’t really know anything about his friends.

Or Tony, it would seem.

----

May closes the drivers-side door and throws a packet of snacks into Peter’s face.

“Pretzels.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he adjusts his glasses where they'd been knocked askew.

“Sorry, I thought your reflexes were better,” she says, and by way of apology, lobs a packet of sour gummies more gracefully on his lap. “Your favorite.”

“Apology accepted.”

From a plastic bag she fishes out two cokes and places them in the centre console, a bag of red licorice and crackers follow, also making their way onto his lap. She always buys too much food.

Then they’re turning back onto the highway that leads them out of where they paused at Monticello, the radio jacked up loud enough to be heard over the tiny droplets of raindrops sporadically hitting the windshield.

They’ve left early enough that it’s still dark.

Fog still hangs low on the roadside, intangible pale wisps that seem to disintegrate upon crossing, the road dotted with other travellers, but not too crowded, enough so they can easily cruise the speed limit and sometimes over. The Bangles play on a cassette tape and, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, May looks so carefree, driving her sentimental car with the noisy engine, singing along to the same cassettes she’s had since she was his age.

Peter can’t bring himself to say what he wants to. About the letters. One in particular. He knows something isn't right but who is he to break the peace?

So, he doesn’t and they keep driving.

The fog lifts and the tunes continue, both of them singing familiar tunes from ABBA to George Michael and Peter let’s go of what he can’t control and loses himself in the buoyancy of nostalgia - neither of them can carry a tune for shit and it’s funny, and when he rolls his window down he sticks his hand out to feel the frigid air, it’s the most free he’s felt in a long time.

Football and his after-school duties and everything else just drifts away with the wind, at least for this moment.

It was like when he was a kid. The route itself is mostly dark and dull, and this time without Ben, but their usual car games of ‘dollar every time you spot a windmill’ and ‘how many minutes until the next town’ are fun and easily pass the time. This will be another memory that he will gloss over with fondness, how even the boring roads will seem like rapture.

When the sky starts to turn from black to grey they stop for early breakfast at a diner just slightly off their trail in Windsor, both of them famished despite the hoard of snacks and in dire need of coffee.

The car is beginning to emit pale plumes of smoke from under the hood as they arrive at Davis Grove, Otisco Lake in the early morning. The sun rises low over the horizon, a slow ascent that turns the sky grey and brushes wriggling streaks of color over the lake.

The house is exactly as Peter remembers it.

Panels painted slate blue, brown-tiled roof. Two-storeys with a wrap-around porch and a private dock only a short distance away from the entrance. A swinging chair on the lawn that comfortably fits three and a half people.

It looks exactly as it did when Peter first came here as a kid, plucked straight out of his memories in perfect form, like it was set in a liminal space that time refused to touch. A piece comes back to his being at this moment, something that he didn’t know was missing.

Aunt Margaret is already standing at the door when the pull up. She doesn’t look a day older than when Peter last saw her years ago.

“Oh, look at you,” she coos, wrapping Peter up in a tight hug, curls brushing his cheek, “my darling little Petey-pie.”

“Hey, Aunt Margaret,” he returns the hug.

“You’re so tall now, let me look at you,” she holds him at arm's length, warm eyes roving over his form. “Oh my goodness, haven’t you grown a handsome young man? Last time we met you only came up to my shoulders and had braces.” She turns her attention to May. “Isn’t he handsome?”

His aunt nods, smiling at them, both women gravitating into a tight embrace. “It’s good to see you, Peggy. Thanks for having us.”

“Our pleasure. You look even more beautiful than the last time.”

“Oh, stop,” May releases her, wiping at her eyes. “Look who’s talking.”

She tilts her head to the porch and takes May’s duffle from where she has dropped it to the ground. “Come on you two, inside. We’ve got the fire going and scrambled eggs on the table.”

Inside it smells like the best parts of his childhood. A burning fire and butterscotch and lingering musky-but-floral scent from the bowl of potpourri high on the mantel. Even the sounds are the same, the same coo of early birds in the burgeoning daylight, someone humming by the stove.

Margaret leads them into the living room, where her husband meets them halfway from the kitchen, oven mitts still on his hands when he spreads his arms wide to welcome them.

“My goodness,” he beams, “look what the cat dragged in.”

He wears a cravat at the same time he wears an apron, looking every bit the formal yet whimsical man Peter remembers him to be and a crushing wave of nostalgia comes over him so suddenly he can’t help but rush forward and embrace him.

“Welcome, Peter. It’s so good to have you here.”

“Thanks for having us, Uncle Ed.”

“What have you taught him,” he points his query to May as he releases Peter to hug her. “You know you can call me Jarvis.”

---

Margaret ‘Peggy’ Carter and Edwin Jarvis had been young twenty-somethings when they first met. Both were born in England before moving to the US, but it wasn’t until they met at Margaret’s first college that their paths crossed. They worked in different departments, Peter thinks Ed was an engineer or something and Margaret an analyst, but the universe pulled them together eventually.

Margaret asked Ed out first and then a year later, May was the maid-of-honor at their wedding and Ben was reportedly a teary guest in the squeaky church pews.

And the rest, as they say, was history.

A photo of that day sits framed upon the mantle. May and Margaret have their arms around each other, Uncle Ben and Ed standing awkwardly at the sides of the frame, holding up flutes of champagne.

They look so young. Happy.

Peter observes the photo, smiling. He would have been a baby back then. Before his parents and Ben had -- well.

His mind does these weird calculations sometimes. Like, the May in this photo is only nine or so years older than how old he is now, and this moment, suspended in time, makes them closer than they have ever been, even though in real life they are over twenty years apart.

Looking at this picture, it makes him wonder how many people he knows now will live full lives and die of old age. How many people his age will stay forever young, and who will be in the future looking back at their time now, wistfully staring at pictures of those who only exist suspended in that time.

It’s funny, being a teenager. His peers are too young to die so they assume they won't. Even in their twenties and thirties or forties, death seems like an elusive thing that doesn’t apply to anybody until it does. It’s for the decrepit, the sick.

But in Peter’s case death comes like poorly aimed darts, always landing badly and scoring low. In his pockets, his hands turn in fists. He hopes the three people left alive in this picture get to grow old.

He smells her perfume before he sees her. Margaret approaches, bumping their hips together.

“This was a nice day,” she says softly, wistful. “I wish we’d kept more contact over these last few years.”

“Me too,” he smiles sadly, her expression reflecting his. With a hand on his back she leads him to the couch.

“Come on, munchkin, come sit. Tell me how you have been.”

---

“We weren’t planning on the big dinner,” Uncle Ed says as he finishes peeling a potato, handing it to Peter once he’s done. “But we’re so glad you two joined us. Neither of us have a lot of family here, you know.”

“Us neither,” Peter runs the peeled potato under running water to rid it of dirty residue before chopping it into quarters. “It’s really nice to see you again, it’s been way too long.”

“You really have grown into such a nice young man,” the man smiles. “Ben would be proud. Your parent’s, too.”

“Thank you.”

They haven’t got together like this since Ben died a couple years back. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Shit happened and it got harder to try. May got busier with looking after Peter full time and working more - and Uncle Ed quit his job and opened up a garage and Margaret lost a baby - all at the same time.

It was a lot for everyone. Even college best friends moved apart when fate put up walls at every turn.

It seems everyone in his circle is just does their best to survive. Or maybe that’s just what growing up is.

The remainder of their morning is spent eyeing the oven and skedaddling while Margaret prepares her pecan pie, ejecting them out of the kitchen with a forceful shoo.

“May says you’re playing football,” Ed says, leading him out to the lounge, passing him a can of soda. “How’d that happen? Last I checked you were doing splits over a pommel horse.”

Peter shrugs, tapping his can with his fingernails, idly paying attention to the football on the old TV. “Needed an extra-curricular, there was an opening and for some reason they accepted me.”

“You were so good at gymnastics,” Margaret comments from the kitchen, whisking away at her bowl. “I’m sure you’re exemplary in anything you do. They’re lucky to have you.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, sculling back the rest of his drink, bubbles burning down his throat. “Looks good on college applications in any case.”

“This kid,” May points to him with her beer bottle. “He does it all, I don’t even know how. He’s brilliant.”

I could do more, he thinks. He wonders again in that moment what it is that makes him so deficient that May couldn’t rely on him to accept the truth about their situation, that maybe he was just too naive. But he’s not. He’d drop his after-school activities and get a job in a hot second if he thought it would help. And for just a split-second he’s mad about that, about being kept in the dark.

But then he sees the strain around her eyes, how the bottle in her hands trembles ever so slightly, how much she makes the hard world soft around them. And it’s easy for him to let that feeling go.

“You’re still freelancing?” Peter asks Margaret, momentarily distracted when Ed’s phone lights up with a call.

“Excuse me, terribly sorry,” he says suddenly, picking up the phone and answering it, rising to his feet to converse in the adjacent room.

“Yes,” Margaret says, eyes lingering over where her husband has gone, his voice carrying over the walls in worried, muffled tones. “Well, consulting. I can work from home, which makes it easier to take care of all my non-existent children,” she gestures to the empty room around them.

“You could go work with Jarvis,” May retrieves a new bottle, popping the cap. “Look after the books, help him replace tyres.”

“Tempting,” Margaret says dully, rolling her eyes. “Can’t understand why I haven’t done that yet.”

Jarvis re-enters minutes later, hands held out apologetically; whispering to Margaret first before he addresses the room.

“Um, we have another guest coming up for dinner, if that’s alright,” he winces at their blank faces. “He works for me. Has a difficult family arrangement and needs a bit of respite. You know how it gets over the holidays.”

Peter meets May’s eyes and shrugs. Anyone working under the business and is vouched for by his surrogate uncle is good by him.

“The more the merrier,” May raises her bottle.

After that, the kitchen needs his hands again.

---

The afternoon is spent preparing the sides, checking in on the truly gargantuan turkey and indulging their cat with nibbles and head scratches. May and Margaret spend the time drinking beer and cider, reminiscing their college years. It’s nice to hear the house full of laughter, given how somber the mood was when they were last all together.

“When did you get a cat?” Peter directs his question to Jarvis, accepting a peeler from him to attack the carrots.

The cat in question is completely black and delightfully plump, not overly so, but enough to indicate it’s decently fed but probably also a little lazy. Or maybe he just thinks that now that it lies tall on the peak on its scratching post, tail flicking idly while it watches them work tirelessly in the kitchen from above.

“Oh, about a year ago. Gives Peggy some company while I'm in the garage. She’s a sweetheart, this one.”

“What’s her name?”

“Friday the Thirteenth. Friday for short.”

“That’s, um, unique.”

“Was the day we adopted her,” Jarvis reaches up to scratch her. “And she’s a black cat, so, you know; spooky.”

Peter tilts his head to the side, considering it. “I like it.”

“Not bad, huh.”

“Yep. It’s a better name than Molly,” he mutters, shaking a slimy carrot shaving off his fingers.

Jarvis pauses. “As in Ringwald?”

Peter sighs and continues peeling.

----

“Did I ever tell you about the time May came to class in a bathing suit?”

“I don’t think they need to hear that --”

“So we have this exam,” Peggy says, ignoring May, “Super important. Fifty percent of our overall grade. She comes in late, dripping wet, the biggest hickey on her neck I have ever seen --”

“Peggy.”

“-- Only thing saving her modesty was Ben’s shirt over her shoulders. I had to lend her a pen so she could sit the exam.”

“Did you pass though,” Peter asks curiously, shovelling a large lump of mashed potato into his mouth.

“Top grades,” she winks at him.

“She sat there for two hours, dripping water onto the ground and got flying colors. Meanwhile I’m the idiot who studied for weeks and got marked down twenty points for --”

The end of her sentence gets cut off by the sound of a car approaching the property, headlights flashing through the windows.

Then, a knock at the door.

“Ah, that must be…” Ed trails off, wiping his hand on a napkin before standing. “Excuse me.”

He goes to answer the front door, Margaret continues her story albeit much more quietly until the voices of Ed and their guest filter through, becoming progressively louder.

“Sorry to intrude, I know it’s the holidays --”

Wait. That voice is familiar.

“Nonsense,” Ed interrupts, “you know you’re welcome anytime. You’re practically family, kid. Come in, we’re eating now, you’re just in time.”

Peter’s fork clangs loudly on his plate when he sees their visitor, unable to keep his grip on the utensil as his limbs start to tingle. He forgets how to breathe for a second, entire body going hot.

Ed’s arm is around Tony Stark and they’re approaching through the living room, heading right for them. There’s a fresh cut on his lip and an ugly, wreath of bruising around his jaw and neck, deeply purple, speckled spots of burst capillaries visible from even where he’s sitting.

The worst part isn’t the intrusion. It’s how Tony looks unlike himself; he looks small and skittish, gaze flicking nervously around the room, arms curled around his waist. Something in his chest starts to feel the closer he gets, weird, hot and unwieldy, burning, like a hot poker has been drawn across his sternum.

“You’re the best, Jar...vis,” Tony trails off when he spots the Parkers, eyes zeroing in on Peter.

“Um,” Peter says, sharing a surprised look with May, not knowing what else to say.

But then suddenly Tony is shaking his head, shrugging out of Ed’s embrace and backing up, the skittish look gone and replaced with anger.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. No fucking way.”

Then he turns, and leaves.

----

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @muse-of-gods, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @plueschpop, @spideravocados, @jellybbunny, @booktrashme, @elfkido, @mycatislickingmybedsheets, @queerghostboyo, @disneyprincessdominatrix, @cherrygoldlove @starkerflowers@starkeristheendgame @thewolffearsher @starkersugar , @starkerforlife6969, @css1992, @parkerrbitch, @fuckmemrstark, @blankblankityblank, @ilovemoreid, @blaquedecember, @killmylonelysoul, @notfor-temporaryuse, @arvaen, @chaos-with-a-pen, @notnormallaura, @portiamarie02, @bloodymisanthropist, @ser-no-tonin, @staticwhispersinthedark

#starker #tony stark x peter parker #ironspider #high school au

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hillbillyoracle · 5 years

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Shadow Work Skills to Develop

Shadow work can feel very…vague to talk about. There’s a bad habit of just kind of handwaving things and hoping people figure it out on their own. Part of that is that it’s so intensely personal. It’s so hard to come up with things that will work for everyone. The other part is that I want people to experiment and add to what we know about shadow work so I don’t want to be too prescriptive in how I teach others to do it.

So, for this post I wanted to dig into some of the most basic skills I use in shadow work in the hopes it’ll help people no matter which methods or paths they take.

Describing Events Neutrally

I put this one first because I think it’s the most important and the more difficult. Our emotions cloud how describe events to ourselves and others. For us to look critically at actions or words, we really need to be able to describe them without intent or emotion. Now, I’m not saying to leave that out entirely, I’ll get to that next. But you have to be able to get a clear view of what was done. This is so important when working with anything that might be triggering. We are too used to describing events with the goal of justifying thoughts, feelings, and actions and in shadow work it helps to break that instinct where you can.

When you can describe events neutrally to start with, it’s easier to see whether the feelings where in line or out of line with what happened. Were you way over reactive? Maybe under reactive? It’s easier to judge that when you have a neutral account to work with.

To practice, try listing out some events as they happen neutrally. An example might be after a tense interaction with someone, listing out what was said and done. If you can, get someone who was there to look at it and someone who wasn’t there to look at it and see what they say as far as how factual and neutral the account is.

Naming Feelings

Many many people cannot tell you what they’re feeling. There’s a myriad of reasons for this but no matter where it comes from it hurts shadow work. Your mood is like an internal weather system, you need to be able to do shadow work that’s appropriate for the weather. How you dig into things if gonna be different if your reaction to feeling trapped is to give up and binge movies or to lash out in anger. Gotta know what you’re working with.

It’s absolutely vital that you practice naming your emotions in day to day life. I did a week where I had an alarm go off five times a day and I wrote down what I was feeling in a note on my phone. A lot of my entries were “I’m not sure”. The practice showed me how often I have no connection to my feelings at all and prompted me to get to know them better.

Try using a feelings wheel or a feelings chart at least once a day to get used to checking in with yourself and putting a name on it.

Defining What You Want

We live in a society that has a very complicated relationship with wants. People often say we live in a consumerist society but we don’t often talk about what that’s done to us psychologically, to be so consumptive. There’s a lot of morality around them too that we internalize. We identify strongly with what we want. We define ourselves through our ambitions and our goals. But it means what we really want gets lost in the pursuit of shaping our desires to be acceptable or admirable. We ignore our desires that don’t fit with our narratives which is such a block to shadow work. How can you work on what you won’t let yourself be conscious of?

You have to understand that you and your desires are not one in the same. Just because you really want to enact violence on someone for what they’ve done doesn’t make you a bad person or a mean person or what have you. It’s a natural human desire. That doesn’t mean that’s it’s justified just that you are not bad for having those thought or desires. This extends to other things people don’t like admitting they want – finding other people more appealing than their partner, wanting someone who’s wronged them to suffer, wanting more for yourself even if it means someone else goes without – they’re all desires we have from time to time.

Practice writing what you want out on paper. Remind yourself you don’t have to act on it and that it’s better to be aware of it so doesn’t sneak into the driver’s seat. It’s important to break the idea that we’re owed what we want or that we have to act on what we want. Desires, much like feelings, come and go. But they’re important to be aware of while they’re here.

Taking Responsibility

I still am unsure of how to describe how to do this. It’s really distress tolerance at it’s core; learning to be okay with not being okay. Because where I see people going wrong with responsibility in shadow work is that they either explain everything away with context or they go it’s all my fault and it’s so terrible I can’t do anything about it.

Part of taking responsibility is being able to answer the question “What do I owe in this situation?” If your answer is always nothing, you’re wrong. We are social creatures, we’re only here because we evolved the intelligence to work closely and creatively with other members of our species. We do owe each other things in any interaction. It’s important to practice thinking about what those things are. Equally important is thinking through what you don’t owe as well.

Practice sitting with your mistakes when they happen and trying to think what’s owed in this situation. Shadow work depends on our ability to take responsibility for the roles we play in what keeps us stuck.

Pattern Recognition

I don’t know that I have much explicit advice for this category other than it’s incredibly helpful. Seeing your patterns is really key to zeroing in on automatic behaviors or thoughts. Pattern recognition is kind of like playing Minesweeper. It gets you a little closer to what you’re trying to uncover without having to step right in it and maintain yourself to be reflective.

Journaling can be really great for this. If you see yourself writing about the same actions or feelings or thoughts again and again and again. Going back through old conversations where you’re venting might give you some clues.

Whenever you find yourself frustrated you keep doing something, take note. When are you doing these things? What does it offer you? What does it protect you from?

We don’t do things repeatedly if they don’t serve us in some way which can be hard for us to admit.

Compassionate Problem Solving

So you’ve dug up these unpleasant truths about yourself, what’s a shadow worker to do? The only way forward is compassionate problem solving. Which is best summed of for me as working with yourself, not against yourself. I’m reminded of permaculture – the problem is the solution.

An example of this in my own life was ADHD. Once I finally realized what I was dealing with was ADHD, I spent several months ignoring it completely and being shocked when I couldn’t will myself to be “normal”. I felt a lot of shame. It was only when I started accepting where I was at and then going okay what can I do that things started to shift. “Okay, if I know I’m gonna forget my keys what can I do?” I put spare house keys and car keys in my car so when I inevitably forgot them somewhere I could call AAA and I’d be able to drive home. “Okay if I’m gonna forget my papers what can I do?” I made digital backup galore so I could access them and print them off at the last minute on campus. My life got so much better with the approach.

Wherever you’re at there are things you can do to make it better going forward and it’s important to get creative and stay reasonable. Getting triggered frequently? Make sure you have a cool down list of some kind on your phone. Too scared to grab groceries by yourself? Grab a buddy or order them and pick them up. Spending too much time in bed because you’re depressed as shit? Set a 5 minute timer and do one thing to make your life better. Literally all of these are personal examples.

There’s always something you can do. Small wins are still wins. Count them. There’s no need to be cruel to yourself while doing shadow work. Practice coming up with at least three different ways to respond to issues that you face. Even if you know a solution isn’t the one you’re gonna take, get used to putting out more than one “right” answer. In shadow work, there’s always more than one path.

Conclusion

I hope this is helpful. A bit rambling, but I think I could have used a post like this when I was starting out. Shadow work gets very individualized, very quickly, but I’ve yet to talk to anyone who wasn’t using at least a few of these in their personal shadow work journey. Hope these skills and how to practice them help!

If you liked this post, consider tipping me here.

#witch #witchblr #witchy #shadow work #journal #journaling #shadow working #shadow work lesson #pagan #pathworking #spirituality

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andoqin · 4 years

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Sisyphus: The Myth Ep 1- A Dissection

Okay, so I’ve had some time to process what I subjected myself to today, so I’ve decided to list everything in episode 1 that is just completely insane and an example of how Not To Do it.

I’m not an expert on Film Theory, but i’ve watched a shitton of media, plus I watch a lot of Youtube Video essays, so clearly I’m half

The episode starts off okay enough even if we get a weird exposition dump and “tense” parting scene between a father and daughter.

We start in what presumably is the time travel terminal where people stand around in pyjamas waiting to get through.

Okay, fairly interesting if unspectacular but I’m guessing that’s the point, this is now an industry. We zoom in and get this line that made me laugh, because well...

a) humans are living creatures and b) the amount of microbial organisms on human skin is estimated to be at hundreds of billions, or more. And this kind of time travel/teleportation is always hinky because well if you think about it, how does that even work without getting into The Fly territory. I’m willing to cut this drama some slack here and maybe it’s an awkward translation besides.

This gets... exceedingly long, but if you want a (too) in-depth summary of what happens in ep 1 and why it doesn’t work (for me) read on :D.

But then the real trouble starts, because PSH’s dad (I’m not bothering to learn the character names) says he’s not going with her and this is apparently very sudden. He then makes her repeat some lines that are supposed to create tension? Be exposition? Idk.

“Don’t trust anyone.”

“Don’t get involved with [CSW]’s character.”

PSH get’s teary eyed, because her dad is not coming with her, but the problem with scenes like these is: I don’t know either of them and do not have an emotional connection to their parting. Sure, it tells us something about PSH (she likes her dad and is worried about him) but I also don’t know how important her dad is going to be down the line. So when PSH asks about her mom and what if her mom dies and her dad just replies everyone dies at some point I’m a bit weirded out, but not to the point where I necessarily want to know more.

We then smashcut to PSH waking up in a world that’s more similar to ours and she does what her dad told her to do. She grabs her (very inconvenient) suitcase and runs along the tracks she woke up next to. We see that she is somewhat surprised by the running trains and also hardy enough to track on despite bleeding feet.

Alas, creepy people in gas-masks with guns and drones are waiting for her, so she runs even harder and after some near misses (they are able to track her by some sort of radiation meter) makes it to safety.

On top of a train car that the TWO DOZEN PEOPLE WITH GUNS AND DRONES are too stupid to check apparently. Clearly if she’s not under the train car, the detecting devices must be mistaken. So she just chills on top of the train car, sitting on her suitcase and those goons trundle off after 5 minutes presumably like they’re Assassin’s Creed Enemy NPCs.

Now we get introduced to CSW in the most insane scene i’ve ever witnessed. Honestly.

He is just ~chilling in 1st class in an airplane, filming a douche who is rude to the plane staff and epically owning him because he’s So Smart.

First of all, I don’t know what that has to do with soggy noodles(which the other asshole complained about), since by that measure the noodles should be *undercooked* (lower boiling point means longer cooking time after all) and secondly good lord I already hate this guy. He then proceeds to Epically Own (tm) with a convenient Forbes (sorry “Eorbes”) Magazine that he is on the cover of and flirts with the plane hostess.

So right off the bat, our impressions of CSW are supposed to be: He’s Cool (look at his hoodie and general bearing), he’s Smart (debatable), he’s nice to The Help (I guess???) stands up to bullies, and most importantly he’s fucking rich. I guess we’re also supposed to get the impression that he’s arrogant, maybe a bit of an asshole, but still cool and everything.

If this had been where the scene had stopped I would have rolled my eyes and then just continued on watching. But no, the writers thought: “Schooling some sexist rich asshole isn’t enough to show off how Cool and Smart and Cocky our main character is. Also he likes the ladies.” Look at him, he’s Tony Stark only from South Korea!!!

So shortly after he sits down, and we have the first moment with CSW where he connected with me emotionally (he sees the ghost of his dead brother and the way he says “because ... you’re dead.” and I thought OOOH this I can work with), the cockpit windshield is hit by what looks to be a suitcase (DUN DUN DUUUN) and something crashes into one of the engines, causing it to explode and catch fire.

The pilot is knocked out and unconscious and even the co-pilot loses consciousness (after conveniently unlocking the cockpit lock). CSW is the only one who goes to check on the pilots, having grabbed a fanny pack from his onboard luggage and quickly assessing the situation he revives the copilot and welds the hole in the windshield shut with some ducttape out of his fannypack and a plastic notepad. IT’S VERY EFFECTIVE! They did it in WW2, or so CSW tells us so you know it’s true.

I’m not sure that ‘s how plane windshields and duct tape and plastic notepad thingies work, but well the plane is still in freefall we have more important things to worry about :).

The electrics are all on the fritz, the copilot cannot get control of the plane and so CSW takes a seat in the captains chair (having foisted the captain out of it, not even he is so crass to sit on some unconscious dude’s lap i guess) and quickly calculates that they have 3 min and 30 secs for CSW to restart the electronics before the plane crashes. So he hands the co-pilot HIS PHONE with a timer on it for 3.5 minutes so the co-pilot can tell him when 30 seconds have passed. Instead of idk, contacting Air Traffic Control or ANYONE he just sits there and lets his big boy brain work.

After 30 seconds he has an idea, because he’s Tony Stark-ing it up like crazy now and can just figure out the electronics of a plane cockpit in 30 seconds, but guess what. HIS PHONE RINGS. AND HE ANSWERS IT, because he’s devil-may-care and “haha look at this, friend, i’m in the cockpit of a crashing plane we have 2 minutes before i’m dead.”

Said friend is calling him from the board meeting of CSWs company, bc of course the board is ~unhappy with CSWs antics (I gotta say I can’t blame them) and the friend doesn’t believe it at first, when he says he’s in a crashing plane, but checks on the news to see it’s true.

I ... I don’t think news work like that, we’ve gone 5 minutes from the initial troubles till now, there won’t be news reports all over the media yet. THEY’RE NOT EVEN TALKING TO AIR TRAFFIC CONTROL YET. Hell he even tells his friend to call 119 or the airport for help. I just... I’m very forgiving of a lot of things in a drama when it comes to writing. I’m willing to ignore obvious blindspots in a narrative, if I think the narrative is strong enough to support whatever it’s trying to say. At this point what could calling the police or the airport do, they have like 90 seconds left...

I don’t know what the writers are trying to tell me with this scene though? It’s so stupid, so unrealistic and CSW is so unpleasant and weird in it, because he tells his friend that he has to confess to taking out the friend’s college girlfriend on a date while they were still together.

Well since the drama is longer than one ep, they do make it out alive, but the fact that the co-pilot managed to safely LAND the plane (which is insane to me) gets skipped over and we just get news snippets that herald CSW as a hero who singlehandedly saved the planes passengers.

We then get to see him in his natural habitat “convalescing” in his giant apartment where he is being showered with gifts by worshippers basically. He continues to be an asshole, but his friend tells him, one more stunt and the board will kick him.

The board will kick the guy who just saved a plane full of lives????? Yeah right, I’m sorry but that’s just fucking stupid from the writers. Why would anyone do that, even if the board hates him, kicking him now, when he’s literally a national hero would be the worst thing they could do for the stock prices. It’s only here so the writers can shoehorn in that CSW is close to OD-ing on pharmaceuticals and that the board wants to monitor his therapy and they have a way of “forcing” him to comply.

Also he has what looks to be a dental x-ray machine next to his bed. Someone correct me if I’m wrong but lol what’s up with these set design choices.

His friend tells him to go to fucking therapy or else and the next scene he is actually at a therapist.

Who’s his ex-girlfriend (they have a whole tangent about that).

Who writes a report about his therapy to the board.

But hey at least the therapy gets us a flashback of the last time he saw his brother. Big surprise he was an asshole to him as well, so no wonder he’s traumatised by that.

After therapy he *conveniently* runs into the co-pilot who’s incoherent and beaten up and hands CSW a usb-drive. It contains video of the cockpit on the day of the crash and it’s obvious what struck the plane was a suitcase and what crashed into the engine was a human being (DUN DUN DUUUUUUN maybe someone forgot to convert feet to meters when setting up the time travel thingamabob).

As he looks at the (very pixelated) figure of the person about to crash into the engine, he suddenly sees his brother’s face and honestly this scene just made me laugh? I know it’s supposed to be haunting and more evidence of CSW’s deep trauma, but I guess at this point my brain was just completely checked out.

And that’s what we end our introductory phase of CSW. What the fuck was that plane thing even for. To show us he’s callous in the face of danger? He’s an asshole even when he’s about to die, so he’s got a long way to go? He’s haunted by the spectre of his dead brother and the guilt he feels for not being there when he died? I got a lot of that before we had the insane Plane Adventure!!! There are literally millions of ways they could have gotten this information to the viewers and not made an absurd spectacle of the plot that means that everything afterwards just feels lame, because you already had the insanity that was this plane ride, so it can only go down tension wise.

Now we’re back to PSH, but honestly her parts are kinda boring and bog-standard “UwU I’m unfamiliar with this way of life, I don’t even know how to eat a banana (that looks *nothing* like a banana btw), so I just eat it peel and root and all. Also I’m from the Future, that means I obviously know todays LOTTERY NUMBERS.”

I know kdramas like clichés and tropes, I like them too, that’s why I watch kdramas, but you gotta give me a bit more if you want me to at least invest in PSH, because I’m sure as hell not invested in CSW.

She gets taken in by some guy, because we can’t have her homeless all the time, and she needs someone to explain this world to her and also how to eat bananas properly and she opens her suitcase. It’s got both future-tech-y looking stuff and a pink notepad that seems to hold specific information on what needs to happen on certain days.

She also makes this expression and I don’t know if we’re supposed to laugh because she’s not threatening or if we’re supposed to laugh because she’s not threatening, but we know she’s gonna kick ass later, haha you just thought she was harmless. I gotta say it’s the former for me.

Rarrr fierce Elite Warrior PSH coming to get you.

She tries to get in touch with CSW, already breaking one of her dad’s three commandments. Oh, I guess staying with this guy breaks the other two. Welp, so much for that then. What even was the point of that first scene...

Anyway she tries to get in touch with CSW but ofc you cant just call the richest person ever (Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos would get very angry voicemails from me if that were the case), but she manages to get his voicemail. Or a voicemail he spoke for. But oh no, she is just Not Familiar with this world and keeps having a conversation with the voicemail as if it’s CSW himself.

CSW who has scienced his way to finding the suitcase that crashed the plane and as she begs his voicemail not to open the suitcase, of course he opens it and gasp the combination for the suitcase lock is his birthday!!! Something his brother used to do!!!

MAYBE THAT MAN WAS HIS BROTHER AFTER ALL!!!! OH NO!!

But thank fuck the episode is over now.

VERDICT:

Just no. Don’t do this. The latter half of the show is more standard fare, but the first 25 minutes destroy any capability of this show making sense. I can see what the writers are trying to do, but it’s so hamfisted and badly written I’m just not willing to go along.

If you want a show that also has a fantasy action aspect (and this show is all fantasy no matter how much it tries to science it up), watch LUCA instead. That show at least knows how to set a tone, how to get us invested in the characters and does exposition in a way that doesn’t feel obtrusive.

#sisyphus: the myth #sisyphus #I RANT #FOR WAY TOO LONG #kdrama

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fallen-stars-au · 4 years

Text

Any Kind of Freedom (Chapter 1)

Steven's been missing for over a month now.

Well, okay, he's not missing if they know he's on Homeworld, but he wasn't the sort to just go zero-contact for this long.

And it's officially been long enough.

They would find him and bring him home or get shattered trying.

(Here is also an Ao3 Version.)

Prev | First | Next

It was stupid.

It was absolutely, absurdly, ridiculously stupid how easy it was to piss off the Diamonds sometimes.

Sure, sure, they’d gotten better about it. Kind of. Apparently not as much as he’d thought—at least not when it came to White.

All he had to do was make one suggestion at what had apparently been the wrong time-

In the near-three years since he’d met the Diamonds formally and first travelled to Homeworld, Steven had been locked in the tower a total of five times. Three of them had been for just a couple days but hardly less unpleasant than the longer spells. But the other two times… His first prison sentence (there was nothing else he could call it) had been literal torture. He’d discovered things about how his half-gem biology differed (how the ways he could survive differed) from that of a full-human in ways he never wanted to experience again—in pain he never wanted to experience again. At the very least, Blue had recognized then that he wasn’t lying about having human needs, so the tower and “his” own chambers had been outfitted appropriately. It meant none of his other times in the tower had been as bad as the first, but it was hardly fun or even easy to handle. But what had to be the worst part about every single time he’d been put in that tower is that he never knew how long it would be until he could get back out of it. And with only six tiny windows, it was near impossible to tell a time since Homeworld lack Earth’s same sort of day and night cycle he vastly preferred.

The Diamonds even needed and actively used his help all the time now! Even with their own duties! But apparently, once again suggesting they let gems choose their occupations (despite the fact they knew how deeply he believed this and had successfully set it in motion within his own Court) had been just enough for White at that moment for her to not care about any of that right now. Instead, he got a disgusted and disappointed look, and Yellow got an order to put him away.

It was a small comfort, at least, that Yellow and Blue both looked regretful and as though they wanted to refuse the order.

By Day Three, he didn’t care so much anymore about that because he was still back in this damn tower anyways.

By Day Five, Steven properly started wondering just how long until he could get out. He missed… Well hell, he missed everything. And everyone. His daily delivery of food and fresh water from the crops at the Zoo being shoved through the slot in the door built for that sole purpose was the most contact he’d had with anyone, and the gem on the other side was hardly allowed to speak back to him. It was times like this he desperately wished he could keep things in his gem to even just have a guitar. Or even paperwork. Just anything to stop the maddening, looping thoughts in his head. The only thing that helped was singing, and even then, he couldn’t write any of it down. But he sang it over and over again so much, he sort of doubted he’d be able to forget it anyways. If that was a plus.

By Day Nineteen (maybe), he’d stopped singing. He wasn’t even sure he’d thanked the door every day for his supply like he liked to. He didn’t care anymore—he just wanted out.

“-ridot. Peridot. Peridot!” Splash. Peridot sat bolt upright, awake now, half-drenched, and rapidly checking that her tablet was safe. It was in Lapis’s hand, being extended towards her to reclaim when there wouldn’t be any water damage done to it. “Come on, we’re leaving for Homeworld as soon as we’re done checking on Garnet, Amethyst, Pearl, and Greg.” There was a tense note in her voice that had been consistent throughout the past few weeks—not that Peridot could blame her.

“Right. That’s today. Let’s get to it, then!” Peridot hauled herself up off the now-wet couch and accepted her tablet back after shaking the water off her hands before she motioned for Lapis to lead the way.

Thirty-seven days. It had been thirty-seven days since any of them had seen or heard from Steven. Oh sure, they could always contact Zircon and did every day to ask if he could speak to them, but she kept saying he was unavailable. By the look on her face, all they could tell is that she was no more thrilled about the reason he was unavailable as she was about their constant calls. It was ten days after he’d left for Homeworld last (longer than he’d been gone in years) that they’d first called Zircon and a couple more days after that when Peridot had stopped Lapis from going to Homeworld herself. Steven’s work with the Diamonds was delicate, and anything they did would lead to his punishment as much as their own. So rather than rushing off, Peridot had reasoned out an agreement with Lapis when they would go. Twenty-five days seemed like… a lot, really. It was a lot. Definitely more than Peridot liked either, but Zircon was still willing to answer their calls and insisted she knew where Steven was and insisted even harder that they not come.

“Right. We have approximately eighty-two minutes until Steven’s daily wake-up call should arrive to him on Homeworld, so that gives us a maximum of nineteen-point-five minutes with each of them to have time to warp to Homeworld and catch him before he leaves his room.” It would be silly to assume Steven was actually functioning on his normal schedule, but it was all they could go off of.

Lapis nodded, cold determination emanating from her as she wordlessly led the way out of the house to check on Greg first. Peridot followed, trying to soothe her own worries when they would hopefully have an answer to their concerns in just a few hours.

Thankfully, Greg was easier to check on than he used to be. Now that “Andy” (she still tended to call him The Other Greg to herself and to Lapis) was helping out more often, it was rare that either of them had to really do anything, but it helped Steven when they asked to make sure. They chatted for a few moments to let him know their plans for the day, and then they were gone again with a solid “good luck” and a plea to bring his son home.

Garnet and Amethyst were also easy to check on as they were at the house, attempting to play a human board game with no help or instructions, but they were at least having fun. A little over a month wasn’t very long for them, after all. It just was for Steven and anyone who functioned on a human schedule.

It proved a bit more difficult to find Pearl, however. She avoided the Temple—even her own room because it “was so awfully dangerous” by the amount of weapons stored there—and tended to stick around the house cleaning where nothing needed to be cleaned, but no one had seen her since the previous afternoon.

Time ticked on by, and the spare minutes they’d saved up in making the other check-ins quick were rapidly dispensed. Peridot scrunched her nose in mild irritation as the alarm she’d set on her tablet started to go off at her hip, and she wiggled out from under the back rafters where she’d been searching.

They were out of time or they’d miss their chance to catch him.

“Lapis! Hey, Lapis, come on, we gotta go! We can’t find her right now,” she called up towards the lighthouse even as another layer of anxiety piled itself on top of her stack. Where in the stars was Pearl? She wouldn’t leave the planet—that was the only thing Steven had ever ordered of her for her own safety. So where had she gone?

Lapis dropped to the ground beside her and was already walking back up the path to the house. She’d stopped wanting to search at least half an hour before; Peridot knew she was just as concerned about Pearl, but their worries for Steven won out in this instance. “She’ll be fine; let’s go.”

Peri quickly followed, grabbing her metal hovering device from just inside the front door and without stopping on the way to the warp pad; with a rush of light and a musical chime, they were at the Galaxy Warp. She gasped as the light dissipated and recognized someone there other than two of the four Rose Quartz guards (Rosie and Quinn as they liked to be called) in charge of keeping non-Earth gems off planet. “Pearl!!” Relief washed through Peridot as she hurried over to their “friend” (even after almost a year, it was still so bizarre and just… wrong not having Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl as their normal selves) who was resting on her knees in front of the Galaxy Warp. “We looked everywhere… for.. you.” As soon as she saw Pearl’s face, she knew she’d been crying—enough for wise tear tracks to be dried down her cheeks.

Pearl pulled herself up from the ground, lacking her usual grace and semi-forced cheer as she saluted them both. “I apologize for not informing you of my whereabouts, Lapis Lazuli and Peridot. I wished to await my It’s Steven here so I might know the moment he returns to Earth…” It clicked.

Peridot knew something had been wrong lately, but of course she hadn’t been able to get a word out of Pearl about what it was. She still followed the classic rules of a Pearl, and that meant hiding and ignoring any of her own feelings. For her to have even cried like she clearly had been… well, it was almost relieving to see albeit kind of sad.

Before Peridot could point any of this out, Lapis’s patience was gone. “Well then, stop with the salute thing and come with us. We’re going to find him.”

Pearl started. “Find… him…? But- but he’s on Homeworld! I would be disobeying a direct order from my Diamond, I could hardly-“

“Who cares? If you’re coming, get moving. We need to leave.” Apparently Lapis had even less patience at the moment than Peridot had thought, but it was apparently just as well. When Lapis walked past to the massive warp pad in front of them, Pearl hesitated for a very long moment before she followed—seeming to struggle to take each step. But she still made them.

Peridot stayed by Pearl’s side for each slow step, and even Lapis calmed down some with wide eyes as they walked up and onto the Galaxy Warp. Once they were within the boundaries, Peridot warped the three of them away before Pearl could turn back and change her mind.

#fallen stars au #steven universe #steven universe future #su au #suf au #su #suf #steven universe au #steven universe future au #fs fics #peridot #su peridot #lapis #su lapis #lapis lazuli #pearl #su pearl

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himbowelsh · 4 years

Note

Hi! I loooooved your drunk band of brothers hc's so much, could you elaborate more on the pacific and saving private ryan boys? 🥰

oooooohhh dude if you insist

The Pacific

Robert Leckie: The Messy Drunk. Giving Leckie booze is highkey like disco dancing beside a hornet’s nest. You’re going to get stung, and it’s going to be severely unpleasant, you just don’t know how or when. Drunk Leckie... is that friend. He really can’t be left alone; when out partying, he’s probably fine, but his moods swing from reckless highs to terrifying lows. All his guards are lower, and pent up emotions are quicker to bleed through --- because he can’t be assed to hold them back. He’ll drunk-dial his ex and leave a dozen voicemails, or call his mom to tell her how he really feels about his fourteenth birthday party... and when friends try to step in, suddenly he’s shouting at them. Why? They didn’t do anything... but Leckie is a mess, and it bleeds all over everything. Safest range for him is comfortably drunk. When he crosses the border into hammered territory, he’s a hazard to himself and others.

Runner Conley: The Energetic Drunk. No one knows what drugs Drunk Runner is on, but he needs to share. Whoa, is he wired. Alcohol is a suppressant, but no one ever bothered to inform him; he gains energy when he’s drunk. He’s the one on the dance floor for hours, busting a move and trying to convince his friends to join in; he’s the one shouting song suggestions and hollering about how it’s his friend’s birthday, hell yeah, pour it out (it’s not actually Leckie’s birthday, but if it gets them free drinks he’ll roll with it). Runner is very inclined to drunk gymnastics, but should not under any circumstances be allowed to. Other than that, excellent guy to have on a night out.

Chuckler Juergens: The Ladies’ Man. Don’t worry, he’s having a great night. Chuckler’s got a very high tolerance, so he actually keeps his head pretty well; this is good, because he’s got to keep an eye on everyone else, before Runner cartwheels out a plate glass window. He isn’t the Mom Friend Drunk, however... oh no, Chuckler’s got other things on his mind. Namely, flirting with every cutie in the bar. He’s great at flirting sober, but Drunk Chuckler is absolutely gifted. He’s suave, charming, funny, and no one on earth could tell he’s already had three vodka-and-limes. He spends most of his evening chatting girls up and dancing with them; his friends have to actively drag him away at the end of the night, otherwise he will end up going home with someone. He’s never drunk enough that it’s a bad idea, just drunk enough that he can’t think of a reason not to. After a night out, he finds numbers written on multiple places on his body. Once, someone wrote their number on his abs.

Hoosier Smith: The Dr. Jekyll. Give Hoosier a bottle of whiskey, and he turns into a different person, okay. He’s still... like, he’s still Hoosier, but this Hoosier grins. With his teeth. This Hoosier will actually dance; he’ll flirt with people for the hell of it (”for the hell of it” is Drunk Hoosier’s philosophy), he’ll try to talk Runner into gymnastics just so he can film it... he got a job drunk once. He literally made one phone call, ended up having a twenty-minute conversation, and came back to tell everyone he just got hired as a finance manager. Drunk Hoosier is impressively cool in the face of a crisis; there’s nothing messy about him (he observes Leckie’s swaying and slurring with disdain). He could probably be coached through first-aid drunk. If you didn’t know him, you wouldn’t be able to tell he’s drunk at all, you’d think he’s just like that.

Sid Phillips: The Impatient Drunk. Does not have time for anyone’s shit, and no longer cares to pretend he does. No one knows why Sid gets so short-tempered when he’s drunk. He’s not like that sober, so the going theory is he just has a lot of pent-up frustration. Now, when buzzed, Sid is a delight. He’s talkative, bubbly, and overall a treat to be around. This is where he should stay. The more he drinks, the progressively less fun the party gets, until he’s glowering at people across the room and shouting at someone for bumping into him. He will not win a bar fight, but he will start one, and not remember a damn thing about it in the morning. By the time Sid’s reached his limit, most of his friends are still just starting, so they’re usually sober enough to cut him off before he gets to that point.

Eugene Sledge: The Snuggly Drunk. He just gets lonely, okay? Liquor makes him morose, and he prefers not to be alone whenever he does choose to indulge. He needs someone there, just to keep him from getting lost in his own thoughts. When out with friends, Drunk Sledge is docile, pretty sweet, but unabashedly clingy. He wants to touch people; he’ll touch their faces, their hair, lean against their shoulders, hug them (”someone help me,” Drunk Leyden says in abject terror, with Sledge wrapped around his waist)... he’s just fine as long as there’s someone there to keep him entertained all night. Tell him a story and he’ll listen in silent rapture; give him a phone and let him watch videos, and he’ll be entertained for hours.

Snafu Shelton: The Possessive Drunk. Snafu... is not a fun drunk to be around. He’s a funny drunk, but this does not make him fun. Drunk Snafu’s idea of fun is not dancing in the club, it’s setting a dumpster on fire. He’s never gotten arrested drunk, but whoa has he come close. So long as he has a more responsible friend to keep him in line, he’s going to “behave” (and Snafu has a very strict rule that he does not drink alone, for his own good, so there’s usually someone). However, he... latches onto this person. Like, he acquires them like a $1,000 watch, and refuses to let anyone else near them for the rest of the night. Since Burgie wouldn’t put up with it, this behavior only becomes really apparent with Sledge, because Snafu is fiercely protective of Drunk Sledge. (Drunk Sledge needs to be protected tbh.) He looks after him all night, steals drinks for him, makes sure he’s drinking water and not hugging strange men... if Drunk Snafu doesn’t have a project, he’s going to commit a felony. Drunk Sledge is a godsend to his criminal record.

RV Burgin: The Hyperfocused Drunk. It’s not safe for him to get drunk, because he has to be the mom friend! He has to keep everyone else from burning the bar down! He knows this, but somehow his friends always end up pushing drinks on him, and next thing he knows, he’s five shots in wondering where rainbows come from. Drunk Burgie has a very one-track mind, and little patience for anything else. He’s not looking after his friends, because he can’t understand why dogs don’t have twins. He’ll discuss this out loud; he’ll crowdsource opinions. Drunk Burgie is actually very outgoing, but no one knows what the hell he’s talking about. His brain goes off in directions no one can follow, and next thing you know he’s trying to get to the library at midnight to see if they have any books about crayfish. (God forbid if he decides he wants fast food; he’ll talk about it for an hour, until someone’s annoyed enough to get it for him.)

Jay De L’Eau: The Giggly Drunk pt deux. He’s such a nice drunk. Everything is funny, and he’s constantly laughing at the dumb jokes and antics of everyone else; he’s less inclined to do the crazy shit, happier just to watch. He’ll stop and ask a stranger if they’re doing okay, or give his last few dollars away just because someone else needed it --- he’s an angel and everyone’s thrilled that he’s here.

Andrew Haldane: The Bemused Drunk. Okay, he doesn’t drink too much as a rule, because he’s a responsible person, okay... but Andy is weak to peer-pressure coming from his friends, so when he goes out, he’ll probably end up having a few. Liquor makes him thoughtful, and he’s a placid drunk overall. His reflexes are a lot slower, but he’s content to just sit there, observing everyone or lost in his own thoughts. He’s just... not totally there. If he puts something down, he will misplace it. If he’s talking to someone, he’ll lose track of the threads of conversation halfway through, and need to be stared back on topic. He doesn’t remember what bar he’s in, what street he’s on, where he lives --- he can rattle off sports history facts like he’s reading from a mental wikipedia page, but god help him if he knows where he put his wallet.

Hillbilly Jones: The Responsible Drunk. He doesn’t know how he always ends up looking after everyone else during a night out. It’s not a responsibility he wants. There are at least two people in the group better suited for it. But Andy’s been staring out the window for ten minutes humming to himself, and Burgie is trying to remember what his brother said to him years ago, and Jay is about to give his wallet to a homeless man, damn it --- Hillbilly isn’t a big drinker, but liquor lends him a bit more patience. This is a godsend, because somehow he ends up wrangling the whole crew. He makes a good mom friend, keeping them from wandering off and reminding them to drink water, making sure they don’t go too wild... Hillbilly’s night isn’t over until everyone else has gotten home safe. No, he’s not thrilled he’s gotta be the one to do it, but someone has to.

Gunny Haney: The Stripper. I’m sorry.

John Basilone: The ‘And I’ll Do It Again’ Drunk. He pretends he has a rule where he’d never do anything drunk that he wouldn’t do sober. This is... almost true. John wouldn’t not start a barfight sober, if given a damn good reason, but he’d think it through a lot more. Drunk John... does not think things through. Not for a second. He does things without considering the consequences. There’s a thin line with John, between “fun to have at parties” and “needs to be asked to leave”. Usually, he knows better than to drink enough to cross that valley, but when he does... let’s just say, JP and Manny are banned from a few bars by sheer association.

Lena Riggi: The Careful Drunk. Lena does not have control issues. I’ll say it again, because she needs everyone to know: Lena does not have control issues. But if she’s going to be out of control, it’s no one’s business but her own. She hates the idea of really letting her hair down in front of strangers --- or worse, casual acquaintances. Which isn’t to say she’s not fun at parties, she just... minds her alcohol intake. She’s very aware of when she’s getting tipsy, and knows when to stop. She also keeps up with her friends, and is an expert at keeping an eye on them, wrangling them when they wander off or get into trouble. (Basically, she’s the perfect person to rein in Drunk John’s self-destructive tendencies.)

Saving Private Ryan

John Miller: The Depressed Drunk. No, really, this man shouldn’t be allowed to drink. He tries not to, as a rule. He knows his limits. Only on rare occasions does he actually get drunk, and once he does, everyone regret it. He’s... not fun. He’s not responsible. He’s just sad. He’s got a lot of thoughts, and is clearly working through them right here at the table. He’s been staring at his hands for the past half hour, he won’t talk to anyone, and looks like he’s going to cry. Someone needs to take him home.

Mike Horvath: The Drunk With A Lot of Opinions. He’s a very social drinker, and doesn’t need to know anybody else at the party to have a good time. Mike will talk to anyone. More specifically, he’ll talk at anyone. He’s got a lot to say about the Black Rhino crisis, the 1998 Superbowl, sitcoms that ended 20 years ago... he feels very strongly about these things, and is not accepting dissenting opinions at this time. He won’t pick arguments with people, really, but he won’t shy away from them. Mike’s one rule on a night out is that he Will Not Dance, so he has to do something with his time.

Richard Reiben: The Shouty Drunk. He’s not even shouting at anyone. Reiben isn’t an angry drunk, he’s just loud. His entire drinking philosophy is “turn down for what” and the answer is: nothing. He’s not going to turn down, he doesn’t feel inclined. He doesn’t really dance, just gets excited and fistpumps the air a lot; he thinks drunk sports are a great idea; he’s nicer to people, for some reason, but will also talk their ear off if allowed. If he’s a pain in the ass sober, he’s even worse drunk, because he’s got twice as much to say and no indoor voice to say it with.

Daniel Jackson: The “Dude, Watch This” Drunk. He really doesn’t change that much when drunk, to be honest. Jackson’s got a lot of self-control, and doesn’t overindulge often. When he does drink, he gets a bit chattier, but that’s about it. He prefers not to dance, and will responsibly stop his friends from doing things likely to get them killed... only to do those things himself, just because he can. He’s drunk vodka out of a broken lightblub; he jumped from an upstairs window into a frozen swimming pool; he stole Horvath’s wallet. The question is not “what won’t he do”, it’s “why would he do this”? He’s not that drunk. He’s never drunk enough to justify anything; he just uses liquor as an excuse to do all the things his sober friends would dissuade him from.

Stanley Mellish: The Karaoke Drunk. He’s actually so much fun to go out drinking with, because he’s having a good time, having a good time --- he’s the life of the party. He’s the one standing on tables and riling the bar up; he’s got the best drunk jokes; he always knows when someone needs another drink, and finds one for them. (He made it a special project to get Upham drunk the first time they went out, and was thrilled with the result.) Loves to drunk-sing. If the bar does not have a karaoke stage, Mellish will simply create one.

Adrian Caparzo: The Drunk White Girl. My man completely forgets that he’s over six feet tall and has a pair of brass knuckles in his pocket. Caparzo doesn’t remember exactly why he came out tonight, but he’s out, and he’s had so much vodka, and he just threw up into a potted plant, and his shoes hurt, and now his shoes are off, and he lost a shoe, and where’s Fish, oh my god, they lost Fish --- (Mellish is right behind him, laughing his ass off.) Things get messy. He’s very sweet, however, very liberal with compliments, extremely supportive, and really craving fast food.

Irwin Wade: The Tragic Backstory Drunk. Wade gets a lot more upbeat after he’s had a few drinks; he talks louder, smiles brighter, and really comes out of his shell a lot more. Unfortunately, he’s a talker. Drunk Wade has not learned the virtues of shutting the fuck up. He doesn’t need to talk about everything, he just occasionally starts blabbing about really personal shit, like the time his grandmother died of cancer or the first time he saw his mother cry, and it’s like... are you okay, buddy? Do you need to talk to someone? He says it so casually, too, like the liquor has numbed whatever obviously raw emotions are tied to these memories. His friends always know Wade a lot better after a night out, in plenty of ways they didn’t need to. They’ve learned to be smart about it; anytime Wade starts rambling, Reiben pushes some pretzels in his mouth, just so he’ll happily shush.

Timothy Upham: The Enthusiastic Drunk. He’s having a great time, even if no one else is. Drunk Upham comes out of his shell a lot more, which would be great if the liquor gave him any extra social skills. It doesn’t. Honestly, he just gets... more oblivious to everyone else, and cares less about what other people are doing. He’s just vibing, and having fun doing it. Will bop along to music even if no one else is dancing with him, will ramble even if nobody’s listening... oh god, and he loves to be on the dance floor. Like, the best way to keep an eye on him is to just drag him out and plant him in the middle of a dancing crowd, because he’s just happy to be there. 10/10 pleasant drunk, doesn’t know what the hell is going on. What language is he speaking? Who knows.

James Ryan: The Fun-Time Drunk. No, really, the rest of these guys are disasters, here’s the dude you want to go drinking with. He never goes alone, always with a group of buddies; he comes out solely to have a good time, and will not accept alternatives. This man has done body shots before. He loves loud music, crowded bars, and lively people. Yes, he can be a little obnoxious when drunk, but no more than your average well-intentioned dumb kid. He’s such an emotionally supportive drunk friend; he’s very physically affectionate, and will hug people while trying to coax them out of their sour moods. Anything can be solved with a trip to the dance floor. By the end of the night, he’ll probably end up passing out on someone’s shoulder, probably on the ride home, but he’s just worn out from a great party.

#saving private ryan #the pacific #headcanons #this got SO LONG

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shiny-procrastinates · 3 years

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(re)Watching Magia Record S1 - part 11

part 10 here

Hello and welcome back everyone to our Magia Record s1 watch-along! Last time, we had the aftermath of the Endless Solitude's incident, found out that Mami is now part of the Wings of the Magius and left off with the reveal that one of Ui's (Iroha's sister, for those who have forgotten) might be another one of the Magius. What is this all about? Let's watch and find out:

Puella Magi Madoka Magica Side Story: Magia Record S1 episode 11

For some reason, we are now watching Tsukuyo's club practice. Wait- Akatsuki? That's not the surname I remember. We also see a photo of Mifuyu on the club room, so they must've been club mates.

Good question, Tsukuyo. Maybe she's waiting for Sana? (lies)

awnt the whole family's on the op now. Yachiyo is even smiling!

NOW we're back to where the other episode left off. According to Sana, she sometimes heard the Feathers talking about Nemu when they came to Ai's barrier to retrieve a witch. The girls then wonder if Nemu's being forced to work with them and Iroha says that maybe Ui's being kept captive by them too, with everyone falling silent at this.

Felicia asks if they can't just catch a Feather and force them to speak, so Tsuruno says if they should keep going after the Rumors them. While the three are wondering that, Iroha remembers about Tsukuyo, who she had seen in her uniform, and we are now back to the present.

Yeah right, are you saying you were actually triplets?

So Iroha decided to catch Tsukuyo after school. If Tsukuyo had a braincell, she could've left by a backdoor or used her magical girl powers to jump over the wall, but it seems she borrowed hers to Tsukasa today.

Tsukuyo stops Iroha from outing her as a Feather, so Iroha invites her to go talk somewhere else. Tsukuyo asks if she plans to interrogate her or worse but Iroha really only wants to talk.

After changing locations, Iroha seems to have told Tsukuyo about her situation. Tsukuyo asks why Iroha would go so far as telling her that, and Iroha answers that she needs to see Nemu no matter what.

After asking who between Tsukuyo and Tsukasa is the younger sister, appealing to their point in common, Iroha threatens outing Tsukuyo to the others if she doesn't let her see Nemu. Tsukuyo is shocked, asking if she's threatening her and Iroha says she doesn't care if she sees it that way. Damn, Iroha really means business when it's about her sister.

As always when it comes to Ui, Iroha's unusually pushy, and Tsukuyo ends up giving in and promising to at least talk to Mifuyu about it.

Later that day, the Mikadzuki girls minus Yachiyo are having a meeting in Iroha's room, and decide to get Yachiyo coasters as a thank-you present for giving them the mugs. So cute.

...that's some interesting club this school has.

The next day, Iroha meets up after school with the other girls to go buy the coaster. Can we talk about the fact there's a group chat just for watching over Felicia? lol

The girls go buy the coaster, and get interrupted by a witch. Guess we can add that to the things magical girls can't do in peace. No probs Tsuruno, there's really no run-time for this.

Look how happy she is. Please don't ruin this in the next scene, show (flag).

Back at the house, Iroha's waiting for Yachiyo's return on Tsuruno's instructions. She hears the doorbell ring and answers it immediately, thinking it's Yachiyo (really, Iroha, why would Yachiyo ring the doorbell to her own house?) but, shockingly, it's Mifuyu.

This probably situation couldn't get more awkward for Iroha had they tried. Iroha tries to show some hospitality, but Mifuyu takes the lead and the opportunity to rub in that she knows the place (and its owner) way better. What's with the attitude, Mifuyu? It's not like Iroha threatened your friend or a- oh wait, nvm.

Iroha asks what business Mifuyu has with Yachiyo today, and Mifuyu asks in return if she has to have some business in order to visit a friend... no, not business Mifuyu but normally you'd warn someone before dropping by, where's your manners? Iroha points out that she hasn't visited for a long time and Mifuyu explains that she didn't come because she knew Yachiyo wouldn't agree with The Wings of the Magius. She then explains she's actually there to talk to Iroha today.

Oh, she did it, she flipped Iroha's switch.

Mifuyu asks if Iroha wouldn't join the cult if she wants to know about Nemu, but Iroha questions Mifuyu's motive for recruiting her, to which Mifuyu says it'd be good for them because she'd be able to investigate about her sister without clashing with them. Iroha presses her about Ui, which she says she doesn't know, and Nemu, but Mifuyu does not say anything else.

...aaand the other girls are standing there in the garden while all this is going on lol

*peek*

Mifuyu invites the girls of Mikadzuki Villa to attend a lecture about what exactly the cult is doing... this is definitely a trap ain't it. At that moment, Yachiyo arrives. Oooh man...

Mifuyu apologizes for the surprise and makes to leave, saying this one unpleasant remark to which Yachiyo angrily replies right away.

Mifuyu provokes Yachiyo, saying how she went back to being her old self, which Yachiyo denies, eventually losing her cool and ordering Mifuyu to leave.

Tsuruno tries to check on Yachiyo but Yachiyo also leaves. Felicia's confused and Tsuruno tries to keep a bright mood, but the atmosphere is definitely ruined.

Yachiyo has went back to her room and-

ohhwoah what is that that's creepy!

So, uhh, Yachiyo is not well at all, she's now hallucinating. Whatever Mifuyu was trying to get at earlier it definitely got to her.

Seems the other girls aren't having a much better night either... but at least they're not hallucinating.

The next day, Iroha relays Mifuyu's invitation to the others. Yachiyo, however, refuses to take part in the conversation and leaves. She's very clearly still bothered about what Mifuyu said, and now she's avoiding her team.

Iroha and the girls have each their reaction to Yachiyo's behavior for a moment, but then go back to the matter at hand. Sana asks if Iroha really plans on going to the lecture, and she says she decided it'd be best to go, after thinking it over. They don't want to fight the cult either, so it shouldn't hurt to at least try to hear them out. Felicia says it's definitely a trap but that they can just break out together then, with Tsuruno agreeing. The two laugh, but doesn't it feel kinda forced?

...and then they realize no one knows where Memory Museum is lol

Mitama! Long time no see.

Iroha drops by the Coordinator's to ask about Memory Museum, which Mitama reveals is a Rumor that's being spread around Sakae Ward.

We then get a scene about the contents of the Rumor. Apparently, the Memory Museum archives memories (who'd thought!) and you can do things with them by ringing a bell, or something. But if you see one you'll end up influenced by it. (I refuse to comment about the goat)

In any case, Momoko points on the map the probable location of Memory Museum, to which Iroha thanks the two and goes back. After Iroha leaving, Mitama advises Momoko to tell "something", at least to Rena, since Kaede is still down, and Momoko says she knows. Quite the dark clouds are on the horizon.

No, literally. It's raining.

Back at Mikadzuki Villa, all the girls except Yachiyo are leaving to go to Memory Museum. Iroha warns Yachiyo they're leaving, but she doesn't answer. Ohh Yachiyo, please, are you sure you won't regret this later?

Iroha and co. naruto run on the rain to Memory Museum, meeting Chibi Kyuubei on the entrance. Yep, definitely Rumor. I might be going crazy but I always think that Iroha looks more her age with the raincoat, despite Madoka's wei- I mean, unique art style. Gotta be something with the proportions.

Also like this detail with Tsuruno's coat folded weird and Felicia's not folded at all lol

We are platformer game now

While climbing up the drawers, the girls talk about chibi Kyuubei, eventually raising suggestions on how to name him... which is funny because that's for the player to decide in the game, so we don't have an official way to call him.

Meanwhile, Rena's meeting up with Momoko. She starts complaining like usual, but soon hesitates when she reads the mood. Momoko says she thought it was time to tell her what happened to Yachiyo one year ago. Wait, what? We never heard about anything either.

But, well... we can guess.

Back at the Memory Museum, Iroha might be the unluckiest mahou shoujo ever, because

One of the Magius is none other than one of her sister's friends.

- x -

Aaand that's it for episode 11. That last scene is a bomb drop, but it's not like you couldn't see it coming from the moment they said Nemu was part of the cult. I mean, if one of the hospital trio was erased from existence, and the other was part of the cult, what were the odds that the last one would be normal? lol

Talking about this scene, I feel compelled to post here the corresponding still from the game, because the world was robbed of Iroha's surprisingly gallant back:

Seriously, when was she ever this cool?

On the other hand, Touka looks like a cute normal kid here which is about as far of the truth as we can get, so I'll give the anime credit for that.

All that aside, we are now approaching the end! With the Magius giving a lecture about salvation and Momoko having a talk with Rena, it's quite clear that the truth about magical girls is about to be revealed to our cast next episode. The big question here is: how will they react? Felicia specially shouldn't be very happy to learn this, considering what her wish was. Exciting!

We also have left to wonder what's up with Yachiyo. Why did what Mifuyu say affect her so much? We have yet to see her backstory, so Momoko talking might just gives us the answer to that question.

With that said, I'll leave it here for today. I can't believe this ended up even later than yesterday considering I start writing even earlier. Dammit short attention span, stop getting sidetracked pls. Tomorrow we'll be watching episode 11 that's looking really promising, so I hope you'll be reading me again then. Have a good morning/afternoon/evening and bye-bye!

#Magia Record #magireco #pmmm magia record #Puella Magi Madoka Magica

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omgthatdress · 5 years

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How to make Cats a good movie.

I watched Cats, and once I got over the initial horror, I was actually pretty entertained and found myself enjoying the shit out of it. Like god bless it, for as nightmare-inducing as much as it was, Tom Hooper was clearly *committed* to his vision and you gotta give him credit for that. The scenery was actually really beautiful and the cinematography was frequently breathtaking. Like it really did have a lot of elements that really worked for it. But for every bit of genius, there was something terrible that the movie just couldn’t overcome. So let’s dive in.

First of all, you kind of have to understand Cats: the musical. It’s an adaptation of poems that T.S. Elliott of nihilistic lost generation fame wrote for his godchildren about cats. And the poetry is charming af and totally captures the nature of cats and why they’re so lovable. In the in the 1970s, Andrew Lloyd Webber did a shit ton of cocaine and decided to make a musical out of these poems. As a result, Cats has no plot. It’s a bunch of cats singing their songs about who they are and doing a lot of dancing. The thinnest of narrative devices is created with the “jellicle” ball and the deciding of which cat gets to ascend to heaven or some shit. So yeah. Cats is actually pretty controversial among theater nerds, it’s very much a you either love it or hate it thing. Is it stupid? Yes. Is it going to make everyone happy? No. Does it lend itself well to film adaptation? fuck no. I get the feeling that Tom Hooper was really going for deep, meaningful poetic cinema here and trying to make another Les Mis (which was way overly long and ultimately sank under its own sheer weight as a movie and probably is better viewed as a play). I’m operating under the assumption that Hooper was going for ground-breaking cinema that would have made millions and swept up during awards season and cemented him as a legendary director and gone down in movie history, because every little detail of Cats is clearly meant for maximum impact. You kind of need to drop all expectations going into Cats, so once you’re there, you can have fun with it. So how do you make it a good film?

1. The HORRIBLE hyper-realistic cgi human-cat hybrids. YES, it’s a technical marvel, and the CGI artists who made it all deserve a ton of credit for the work they did. And I understand why the actors were kept in their human shapes: live dance is a huge part of what makes Cats work. One of the smart decisions made was hiring theater veterans for the filler roles in the cat chorus, so when you have the choreographed numbers, it’s really spectacular. It’s just the end result was way too uncanny valley and bizarre for any of the film’s good parts to ever rise above it. I think a minimalist approach would have actually worked best. Cat ears and simple costumes with clean lines that show off the dancer’s bodies. Go for the suggestion of cats, and kind of let the viewer’s imagination take over, and showcase the cat’s personality. A huge part of what I enjoyed was hearing the poetry and imagining these cats and how they all relate to cats I’ve known. The dance and the music helped heighten this experience, but hybrids kept reminding me of the joke: what do you get when you cross a human and a cat? An immediate cessation of funding and a stern rebuke from the ethics committee.

2. The schlocky, honestly amateurish attempts at slapstick humor. I’m gonna come out and say it and say that Hooper is pretty deeply entrenched in *dRaMa* and has no sense of how comedy works. There was a lot of added in comedic bits from Rebel Wilson and James Corden, and it was honestly terrible. I mean really, a crotch hit? That kind of lowbrow comedy is so crude and base that it’s actually really hard to pull it off well. Slapstick comedy actually lends itself to the whimsical tone, and slapstick done well can be utterly sublime, but Cats seemed satisfied that fat people falling over is the height of comedy and should be left at that. And a second note on the comedy? Weirdly fat-shame-y. A saw a post about how odd it is to see James Corden, who has been very frank about how he’s struggled with dieting and come to accept that his body is fat and can’t be made not fat, playing this role where fat is added to his body, his CGI vest strains at the buttons, and he’s literally stuffing his face with garbage. The theme of fat people as lazy, stupid, and slovenly carried over from Rebel Wilson’s role, in which she also plays a fat lazy cat who is leaned on heavily for comic relief. I know the role is about a fat cat, and gently laughing at a fat lazy cat who loves to eat is fine, but, speaking as a fat person myself, this felt like a gleeful exploitation of a nasty and cruel stereotype. James Corden and Rebel Wilson are both extraordinarily funny people who happen to be fat, and their comedic gifts were tremendously mis-used here, reducing them to simply two fat bodies to be laughed at.

3. Jennifer Hudson. She’s a talented actress who can sing and emote like a motherfucker. And emote she did. She was clearly GOING for that second Oscar. I really don’t want to call her performance bad. The same level of emotion, tears running and snot flowing, in another movie, would have been devastating (Hello, Viola Davis in Fences). But this isn’t Fences, it’s fucking Cats. You need a level of character depth and development that Cats doesn’t afford to make those tears hit. All the crying and misery was an odd maudlin and over-dramatic break in the fun and whimsy. With a subtler performance and a hint of self-awareness, it could have actually brought in an emotional anchor for this light-as-air film, but Cats doesn’t make any attempt at nuance, and as a result the scenes just hit you out of nowhere like a load of bricks.

4. Francesca Hayward. Okay, before we go anywhere, I want to say that this girl is not un-talented. She’s the principal ballerina of the Royal Ballet, and has a very long list of ballets that she’s lead in. So it makes sense that she’d be hired for a role that’s primarily ballet. This girl is a really really great DANCER. But Cats was clearly trying to make an A-list actress out of her. They tried to make her into Florence Pugh, who has been acting for a while and is blowing up right now because she’s very talented. Like everything about Francesca’s role in the film said “This is a star-making role.” A new song was written just for her to sing as an addendum to Cats’s show-stopping signature song. But the song was just okay, it didn’t carry nearly the emotional weight or all-around beauty of “Memories,” and all in all felt wedged-in and totally unnecessary and really just felt like a grab at that “best original song” Oscar. Francesca’s voice is high, thin, and child-like. It’s not unpleasant, but next to the richness and depth of Jennifer Hudson’s voice, it crumbles, and it’s not the sort of voice that I want to seek out to listen to over and over again. As for her overall performance, she largely keeps the same look of wide-eyed wonder throughout her numerous close-ups, so much so that I found myself thinking of the the MST3K “dull surprise” sketch. But I don’t know if that’s really entirely her fault. There was an attempted romantic storyline with the magic cat, but again, because of the nature of Cats and its lack of real character development or depth, the chemistry fell flat. There really isn’t much of a chance to show off a lot of dramatic range, so to keep going back to her character, it kept reinforcing the one-notedness of her performance. Really, I just kept wanting to see Francesca dance. Ironically, I think they really blew an opportunity trying to make an A-list actress out of her. All she really need to make people want to see more of her is one spectacular dance number, but for some reason, she never really gets that show-stopping moment.

5. Dignity? I guess this goes back to the whole CGI cat thing, but there were a lot of moments when I felt this tremendous wave of second-hand embarrassment hit me on behalf of the talented actors in this film. Watching Gandalf lap up milk from a saucer was a wholly uncomfortable experience, like come on, grant the great Ian McKellan some fucking DIGNITY here. Which goes back to whatI said earlier that a suggestion and interpretation of cats would have worked better than all-out just being a cat. Or it could again just be how much Cats just fails its attempts at comedy. But then again there was no fucking reason at all for Idris Elba to be that fucking NAKED. I guess they were trying to make him sexy? But his sexy smolder and just being Idris Elba wasn’t enough they had to make sure that we all saw his chiseled pecs and thick thighs. And then at the end when he’s dangling off of the rope of a hot air balloon and what’s supposed to be a funny scene, I think, I kept thinking “I’m so sorry this is happening to you, Idris.”

There’s a bunch of other small, nit-picky things that I could go into. Those cockroaches would have worked so much better if they weren’t humans with an extra set of arms. Watching them get eaten was some horror movie shit. Taylor Swift’s Macavity song would have worked a lot better if the cat chorus full of cats we’ve gotten to know had sung it, but instead Taylor Swift is brought in as a new cat we don’t know whose only purpose is to sing the Macavity song? but of course a big oscar-bait movie needs to have that pop star that draws in the people who wouldn’t otherwise see it and making her a part of the cat chorus would have had her performing throughout the whole movie and she would have floundered the way pop stars tend to do when performing musical theater around a bunch of musical theater actors. So I guess I get why she was thrown in.

So.... yeah? Is there anyone else who found themselves enjoying it in spite of everything? I’m glad I have dogs and didn’t have to watch this mess with actual cats around me.

#Cats 2019 #Cats

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popatochisssp · 5 years

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I tried to resist, I really did, but @llamagoddessofficial is literally The Worst and has inspired me to think about cowboys, one of my very vulnerable Achilles’ heels. I have many of these, I am a many-heeled abomination, at least 90% composed of heels

So, FUCK IT-- Wild West AU

Sans (Undertale): He’s the town layabout, no job and just drifting around as he pleases, often sleeping out in broad daylight. He’s got a bit of a reputation as a grifter, liable to trick a fella out of his own boots if he ain’t careful, but he’s pretty well-liked and considered harmless enough to get away with it. If you don’t know better than to ignore his tricks and swindling, the figuring is that you deserve to get yourself conned-- now you know for next time, eh?

Papyrus (Undertale): A simple cowherd working for one of the local farmers. He’s kind to the animals and does good work for his employer, but he’s got big dreams, bigger than working on somebody else’s farm... What he really wants is to start his own ranch-- his own horse ranch! It’ll take a long time to save up the money, even with his brother’s (dubiously legal) help, but he knows he can do it! And in the meantime, he’ll just look longingly at all tied horses of cowboys just passing through and think, ‘SOMEDAY...’

Sky (Underswap Sans): He tends bar at the local saloon! A lotta people think he’s gunning to own the place with how happy he seems working there, pouring drinks, tapping his toes to the music, enthusiastically busting up the fights the rowdy drunkards get into... He likes the work just fine, sure, but really what he’s after is the sheriff’s job-- the lawman around his parts is a bit of a yellow-belly and the way Sky sees it, it’s only a matter of time before his nerve runs out. He’ll be keeping an eye-socket out, waiting for his chance to step in.

Paps (Underswap Papyrus): He runs the local general store, keeping everything well-stocked for anybody who needs goods and supplies and selling it at reasonable prices. He’s the quiet type and keeps to himself, but everyone knows he’s a very respectable sort of fella and can overlook that he seems a bit antisocial at times. Nobody really minds if they’ve gotta ring the bell on the counter to get his nasal ridge out of whatever book he’s reading, because he’ll get them exactly what they need and not make them pay an arm and a leg for it.

Jasper (Underfell Sans): He’s a cardsharp, making his living by gambling. He...may also be wanted for...aggressive solutions to gambling-related disagreements, but quite frankly, he doesn’t take kindly to being called a cheater--most especially not when a gun’s pulled on him afterwards. The reason aside, he stays on the move by following his brother from town to town and helping him with his work...but he does hope someday he could settle down again somewhere where nobody’s after him, maybe...maybe start up his own smithy, like he used to have ages ago... That’d be nice.

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus): A bounty hunter, making his living from tracking down criminals and bringing them in for the cash they’re worth, dead or alive. He always tears down his brother’s poster whenever he sees it and happily...discusses...with some others in his profession why they should leave that particular bounty be. Most agree that it’s really not worth the money, having to come up against Pyre in the process, and any that don’t are quickly reeducated. The law itself...mostly turns a blind eye to this-- they won’t rescind Jasper’s bounty, he is a criminal, but...Pyre is very skilled at hauling a lot of truly dangerous criminals off the streets on a regular basis and they like that on their side... So, there’s no need to bog him down with any aiding and abetting charges either, right? At least, not as long as he’s so useful...

Mal (Swapfell Sans): Formerly a simple banker, forced to go on the lam after some lowlife tried to rob his brother and he shot the man dead in a duel. Normally a perfectly acceptable way of dealing with such base thievery, except that the snake in question had friends in high places who thought Mal ought to hang for enforcing his own justice. He made his way to a distant, nigh unknown frontier town where he made himself its sheriff-- easier to keep the law from finding you when you are the law, isn’t it? He keeps his past tightly under wraps, and with as little contact with anyone from a big city as his town has, it’s just as easily done as said.

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): The local teacher, soft-spoken and kind, great with the kids and patient with all their questions and always coming up with the most interesting little craft projects to keep them busy and happy. Everyone loves him and nobody’d ever guess in a million years that he was a wanted man, too, guilty by association with his brother. He’s a bit jumpy around loud noises and a little (a lot) wary of any strangers who come to town, but most just pass it off as one of his many eccentricities and think nothing of it.

Slate (Horrortale Sans): Frontier towns are great, exciting opportunities for people to explore and make new lives for themselves...except when they’re not. Slate’s from a town bought up by a crooked railroad baron, and when the settlers and homesteaders wouldn’t pack up and leave, the bastard caused a rockslide in the pass into town, so they couldn’t leave. A lot of people were successfully starved out by the tactic, but some survived via...unpleasant means. Slate was one of the few who eventually made it out, scarred and broken from the ordeal but still alive to try and start their lives over, somewhere else. He’s a humble miner now, quietly doing his day’s work and going home and never breathing a single word about where he used to live...before.

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus): He lived the same horrible nightmare as his brother, and it drove him to study medicine! So many people were injured in the rockslide, to say nothing of the sickness and suffering afterwards, and he read as many medical textbooks as he could get his hands on so he could be more helpful than he was. Nobody in his current hometown minds that he’s self-taught, a doctor is a doctor, and he’s certainly the most caring and attentive one the people around these parts have ever had!

#undertale #sans #papyrus #headcanons #wild west au #underswap #us!sans #us!papyrus #underfell #uf!sans #uf!papyrus #swapfell/fellswap #sf!sans #sf!papyrus #horrortale #ht!sans #ht!papyrus #yeehaw

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pepperful-qt · 4 years

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what type of drunks are the karasuno kids like? (happy drunk/ crying drunk yk that stuff)

oh, drunk people

warnings: alcohol obv, general drunk shenanigans, some unpleasantness

Hinata: bouncing off the freakin walls at first you'd swear it was a sugar high😭 ten minutes since getting there he's already gone and bounced between 6 different conversationa and has 10 new friends and their social media. he's the one that breaks a table bc he started jumping on it when a "bop" came on it was one direction I can't seriously keep him on a leash. starts getting SUPER clingy though it's actually amusing. there's a threshold where he'll start going from crazy to sleepy drunk and you need to make sure you're there or he'll pass out latched onto some stranger

Kageyama: constantly talking at a volume just a notch too high. suddenly thinks he's the best at every skill, and will fight you about it. misses the beer pong cups every time but acts like they went in pLEASE just drink before he starts yelling and getting pouty. his temper is unbelievably short but on the plus side he's the first to pass out lemme tell ya it's a real rollercoaster while he's conscious though

Tsukishima: this fucker. he has "phases" he goes through as he drinks more and more. starts as the typical smartass with no filter, says whatever comes to his mind. I swear he leaves tears in his wake so disrespectful😤 constantly questioning you and your decisions, making you question your life choices,, ugh pls don't hang around him until he's had more. when he does keep drinking he gets quiet and MOODY YIKES he will kill anyone who sees him this way he's like a child simultaneously sulking and having a temper tantrum. once someone recorded him sobbing over his pet turtle that died in middle school and he decided he would never get smashed in public again

Yamaguchi: for the most part he's a happy drunk who will laugh at your jokes and mirror your emotions tenfold "he did wHAT??!?? >:((" bless him honestly. watch it though bc he has some sass to him and he will roast you without warning before laughing it off n you're there like 👀💦 wtf but if you hang around him too long he'll start unloading his problems onto you and there's no escape,,, but tbh he needs it just let him

Nishinoya: the definition of reckless. stop him please. he will do ANY dare EVEN IF YOU DON'T DARE HIM,, jumping off the roof into the pool seems fun, but that stair banister is just asking to be surfed down like freaking tony hawk or smth, OR there's 5 more shots of vodka just calling his name, decisions decisions🤦🏼‍♀️ also so SO loud no more inside voice. he'll pull the "vodka or perfume" stunt smh. flirts with anything that breathes, and things that don't

Tanaka: the most competitive person on the planet. first one to puke, but that doesn't stop him oh no his record is 5 before he went blackout what are you even. constantly screaming pls shut up. if you catch him at this specific time he will start philosophizing with you about the meaning of life and the pros/cons of different types of bras as if he knows ANYTGING omfG shut UP!! never makes it home unless he's got a responsible person with him. will pass out face down on the floor, curled up in the grass of a neighbor's backyard, or in the hot tub please supervise him

Ennoshita: a debater, jfc shut UP. suddenly becomes the most opinionated and smartest person in the world. literally converse about ANY topic and he will find a way to fightdebate you about it. can't take the heat though, and will just get louder and more aggressive in retaliation. for your own sanity just nod and smile. will kiss you if you ask though😙 (pls don't) chugs water like a monster, no hangovers here👌just gotta make sure he remembers to pee

Asahi: emotional drunk 100%. you'll find him in the corner sobbing about that person he accidentally didn't get the door for last week one moment and the next he'll be laughing and all giddy it's wHIPLASH omfg. people do tend to avoid him bc he's intimidating af sober but he's basically a gigantic emotional bomb teetering on 2 feet. also, puked once and swore off heavy drinking forever✌️😔rip brother

Daichi: "I'm fine, I swear I'm fine" literally acts like he's sober when he can't even make steady eye contact or keep his weight centered,, boy how many have you had. prefers beer to liquor and mixed drinks bc he likes the "flavor" freakin weirdo. constantly parenting everyone else and will chuck a waterbottle at your head

Suga: LOUD oh my god,, and thinks he's the funniest person in the world. also stirs every pot possible,, such a gossip compulsive liar wow, and will trip someone just to blame someone else and watch the chaos unfold sipping his horribly mixed cocktail. once Tanaka just walked up to him and he keeled over laughing and to this day no one knows why. changed Ryu's life tbh. great flirting game though tbh I hate him. will be very real w you in terms of advice though, doesn't hold back so be careful

Kiyoko: she doesn't actually like being drunk. when she's quiet and vibing, an absolute queen🙏 the kind of person you can chat with at a party easily bc the alcohol does loosen her tongue and relaxes her! you'll never catch her slipping though (she's such a wine & old fashioned drinker though wow just realizing this) will let you cry on her shoulder and will hold your hair back 💞

Yachi: SUCH a happy drunk omg. never stops smiling and gets super giggly about literally EVERYTHING. you gotta watch her though bc girlie will start freaking out on a dime but just tell her about a rabbit you saw on your way to a cafe the other day and she'll be good. BEST hype girl omg she's a cheer squad by herself,, even if you just said you made it to class on time "im just *sobbing* so proud *more sobs* you're just so TALENTED" needs some reassuring sometimes

🧡🖤

#based off real life experiences #tw: alcohol #pls be responsible lovelies #this was so fun though HAHA #tea party 🍵#ty anon lovely!#imi's hcs #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons

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616marvel · 5 years

Text

Pairing: Byleth x Felix (with a tiny Byleth x Sylvain. like super tiny) | POV: Felix Headcanon: How Felix announces to everyone that he’s engaged to Byleth also how their first time happens (+ Jealous Felix)

note: I just had to for the tsundere of the whole game. I had to. This got really long, I was just going to do like a headcanon bulletin type of shit but THEN THIS HAPPENED

The first time Felix kisses Byleth is after his confession. He thinks that it would be the perfect time, she’s already right there pressed against the wall so it wouldn’t be too weird if he just leaned in. She said she feels the same so that should be an indication, right? So he does, he leans in and he thinks this is totally fine.

Except it wasn’t. He’s never kissed anyone before, having spent his time sparring during his academy days left him with little time to explore the subject of romance. Felix thinks that even during his time as a student, he’s only ever really had eyes for her (albeit unbeknownst and unrecognized by him). With that in mind, the kiss, although reciprocated, was a little sloppy. Felix kissed her but the embarrassment of not knowing how to properly kiss anyone was sending his face aflame.

Needless to say, his lips started quivering and Byleth noticed. Too embarrassed to address it, he just leans on her shoulder and lets the scarlet overtake his whole face. Byleth thought it was endearing and patted his back in reassurance. They stay like that for a minute before composing himself and telling her that they should probably go back where everyone was.

Felix isn’t the type to show public displays of affection so for the next two days, despite coming to terms with their relationship, they found no reason for them to announce their relationship to the others. This was something that they could keep to themselves and that thought…made him happy.

Of course it doesn’t occur to him that the other Blue Lion students probably had the same sentiment towards Byleth. If he felt that way towards her, then surely some of the other students too, right? That thought hadn’t crossed his mind up until he saw Sylvain and Byleth near the newly built garden.

From afar he could already see Sylvain’s smirk that had girls and guys falling on their knees for him. Felix has never been romantically jealous before, but the tinge in his chest was definitely something that he can’t help but notice. He doesn’t make a ruckus, just watches from a far and listens in (definitely not eavesdropping. Nope).

Managing to pick up a few words, he realizes that Sylvain was laying it on thick. Telling her how radiant she’s been looking now that the war is over. That perhaps now that the war has ended, she’d be able to look for future prospects for a lifelong partner. Sylvain: …maybe someone like me?

Felix felt a vain pop, the little patience he had for Sylvain slowly diminishing by the second. Sylvain: We can talk about it over dinner, prof. Byleth: Oh, Felix may want to join us for that. I’ll ask him.

Was it wrong for him to smirk at the idea of Byleth thinking of him in this type of a situation? Probably, but it definitely did ease the pinch in his chest. Sylvain: Wait, why? Sylvain: It’d be nice with just the two of us. Trust me on this. Byleth: mm. Then I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.

Before Sylvain could even continue, Felix comes out of the corner to announce his presence. Felix: okay, that’s enough. I’ll be taking Byleth now. Sylvain: Byle- since when did you start calling her by her actual name? Felix, holding her hand: since today. Sylvain: okay well if that’s the case, I’ll call her by her name too. Byleth would you like to have dinner with me? Felix: Felix: Thank you for the invitation but the answer is no.

And then he drags he out of there, still holding her hand as he grumbles. Byleth doesn’t know what has gotten into him but she doesn’t mind, kinda just follows with the same calm expression. Felix, inwardly to himself: the ring ain’t doing shit. I gotta do something.

The next day at the dining hall, Felix very casually sits next to her and holds her hand, their rings clearly visible. Felix: Good morning, Byleth

This was uncharacteristic of him so this concerns Byleth. Byleth: Good morning, Felix. Are you feeling well?

While he’s awkward when it comes to affection, he finds that he’s very thorough when it comes to jealousy and misunderstandings. Felix: I’m feeling great, would’ve been better had you visited me last night.

A bold statement coming from a guy whose face was clearly turning into a shade of red. By now people are watching. Mercedes was the first one to finally ask (because she handles his outbursts better than most people). Mercedes: Oh my, are those rings? Felix, trying to keep a straight face despite of the blush: Yes, I asked her to marry me.

And then the whole damn place erupts. Byleth is unsure why her former students are so rowdy. Sylvain, finally: NO WAY, YOU!? Felix, giving the redhead a pointed glare: Yes, me.

The burning curiosity from everyone was making his face feel warmer than it already was so rather than staying, Felix very calmly (as calm as he could) takes her hand to stand. Felix: Well it’s far too crowded here, lets eat elsewhere Byleth.

He’s definitely showing off the fact that he calls her by her name instead of professor or teach. And so they eat elsewhere and that’s when he kinda sighs and crumbles into a flustered mess of embarrassment. Of course Byleth’s just happy with being alone with him considering how different he is when it’s just the two of them. Byleth: no need to turn red, Felix. Blue is a far more fitting color for you. Felix: ….who’s red? Not me pffft.

He says while turning more red. While that was finally cleared and everyone now knows that they’re together – it now came to the matter of affection.

Sylvain is the one to ask because that guy is just as curious as everyone else, but he actually has the guts to ask. It happens one morning while Felix’s cleaning his sword. Sylvain, literally only came to the training room for this: so you and the prof – you uh…. Felix: what? Spit it out. Sylvain: ya know, did the hanky panky? Felix: They hanky what now? Speak properly. Sylvain: you seen them honkers, you know? Felix: Sylvain. Slyvain: okay okay, have you and the prof done the nasty? Felix: Again, what? Sylvain: Felix, you can’t seriously be this dense. Have you and the professor have sex yet? Felix: Felix: I don’t see the need for you to concern yourself with this. Sylvain: Sylvain: so that’s a no. Felix: Shut up Sylvain Sylvain: okay you've never been with any woman, even during our academy days, girls didn’t interest you Felix: because they were annoying, always following you around Sylvain: but it's different now, right? you love Byleth and as such, you'd need to know how to please a woman Felix: Byleth is pleased by me– Sylvain: I’m sure she is, but I meant for sex Felix: ...whatever you say

He says while clearly feeling the warmth creep along his cheeks. Sylvain ends up talking and talking and talking while Felix feigns boredom (but really, he was taking notes in his head). Sylvain: got it? When all else fails, use your tongue Felix, clearly, totally, definitely not interested: Whatever.

He leaves thinking he’s had enough of Sylvain’s nonsense, but the thought kept creeping back, leaving him flustered. Would Byleth really…want him to do that…?

He can’t even kiss her without feeling embarrassed and the last time he’s kissed her was at the goddess tower. It’s been a month and a half since then and he just figured the time will come when it comes. It also didn’t help that he didn’t know how to go about kissing her again. Does he ask? No…that’d be weird.

This gets his mind racing so when he spots her drinking tea and she spots him, he tries his damnest to fucking walk over there without thinking about what Sylvain had said. Felix: Byleth, you seem relaxed.

He’s trying to calm his nerves but he keeps looking at her fucking lips and he’s going to die.

Byleth is so blissfully unaware of the dilemma that she’s causing to him. Byleth with her tea: mm, quite relaxed. It’s been a lovely evening and it’s gotten lovelier with you here.

After a while she could see his stiffness. Byleth: is everything alright, Felix? Felix: huh? Oh- uh yes. Just, thinking. Felix: drinking tea Felix: continues to drink tea Felix: downs the tea Byleth, inwardly: that was freshly brewed, how did he- Felix: so hey, uhh…I wanted to ask you Felix, mouth lowkey numb from them burn: Do you maybe….want to…spend time tomorrow….with me….out in the town or something…haha we could get groceries...

Usually taking her to town wasn’t hard. All the times they’ve gone to town was casual and actually quite fun, but now he’s determined to kiss her. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’s going to kiss her again. Byleth, smiling: of course, I’ve no plans tomorrow.

Come next morning and he’s there early to pick her up. He had Mercedes of course help him with the burn so now his mouth doesn’t really hurt. (Mercedes was so confused why his mouth was burnt ‘From tea? Felix how–‘ ‘Just…don’t ask.’)

They go to town and he initiates the PDA by holding her hand, which in turn causes Byleth to turn to his ever-pink face. He’s never done that before but it wasn’t unpleasant. What was supposed to be a grocery shopping became anything but that. They ended up going to a play, having lunch, and then he even bought her a trinket. A necklace at that.

By the time they’re done, it’s the afternoon and he’s walking her back to her room since she now resides inside the church because she’s now the new archbishop. Felix is quite thankful because there’s less people, he can definitely kiss her before arriving to her chambers. After checking his surroundings, right before they stop at her door, he finally tugs on her and asks Felix: Do you…the necklace…do you want me to put it on you? Byleth, smiling gently: yes, of course.

And she moves her hair to the side so he could do it easier. Felix, the awkward nervous boy that he is, is clearly shaking when he’s trying to put on the necklace because he neck was right there and it’s so slender and smooth and–

Before he could even really think about it, he kisses the back of her neck after finally putting the necklace on. He withdraws, flustered but standing his ground as Byleth turns, a slight pink on her cheeks. She wasn’t expecting the kiss and it sent tingles down her spine, but she smiles at him regardless. Byleth: Thank you, it’s beautiful. Felix, visibly pink: you’re….uh…you’re welcome….Byleth Felix: listen…can you close your eyes for a bit? Byleth: ??? Byleth: Okay.

She seemed confused but she closes her eyes and then that’s when he leans to kiss her, lips still quivering like the first time he kissed her. This time, his kiss wasn’t just a peck, this time he tries. She’s his first kiss but he figures the only way he could learn is through trial and error so he carefully deepens it, cupping her cheek and slanting his head so he could do this properly. She tastes like his favorite cup of tea and her lips were so damn soft. When the kiss was over, he withdraws and sees Byleth actually slightly flustered, a blush on her cheeks with a haze on her eyes. Felix: Felix: Felix: Sorry –

And then he leans to kiss her again. And again. And again as they walk back to her room while continuously kissing her over and over. It doesn’t occur to him that they’d hit the bed and that she’s suddenly under him. Once he realizes this, he’s flustered but he figures this is fine. He’ll just keep kissing her, that’s fine, right? The kisses lead to her neck, then to the swell of her breast, and then between her thighs. He doesn’t recall how they got naked or how it happened but they definitely end up doing what Sylvain called as ‘hanky panky.’ Felix refuses to let her go that night and sleeps there with her in his arms.

Felix wakes up confused as to where he was and why he was naked until he sees Byleth, equally naked. He remembers and he can’t help but kiss her bare back before pulling her closer to cuddle her some more.

Byleth is late for her meeting with Seteth and the Blue Lions. Sylvain: Good morning prof- Sylvain, noticing the bruise on her neck: :0

Felix comes following after Sylvain, looking at Felix then back to Byleth then back to Felix: :0 Byleth: Don’t.

Of course Byleth doesn’t even bother trying to cover it up or lie about it but Sylvain gives a Felix the hardest time and he swears, if they weren’t in the same team he would’ve stabbed this guy by now– Sylvain, nudging Felix during the meeting: So eh? You and the prof finally? Eh?

During the meeting Dimitri notices the interaction, confused up until he turns to Byleth and he sees a bruise just barely peaking out of the neckline of her clothing. Dimitri: Pro- Dimitri, noticing the hickey: Dimitri: COUGHS. Dimitri: uh… Dimitri: good morning, Professor. Uh- Dimitri, looking at Felix: Felix: What. Dimitri: Nothing.

Felix is a lot more cheerful that day. During lunch time, Mercedes notices the bruise, announcing it while everyone’s around. Mercedes: Oh professor you have a bruise on your neck, let me heal it! Everyone in the dinning room: Sylvain: heh Byleth: …sure Felix, inwardly grumbling to himself: It’ll heal naturally…you don’t have to remove it.

#felix x byleth #bylix #sylvain x byleth #fe3h felix #sylvain gautier #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #writing

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