#i have to do a certain amount of presentations for a lit to film class i’m in

[doyoueverstopandthink]

me: i’m perfectly normal about this show thanks‼️

also me: is actively analyzing the music from said show

[latetaektalk]

the one that got away | lmk

“you were the one that got away.”

genre: friends to lovers!au, fluff, angst

pairing: mark x reader

word count: 3.298

warnings: none

playlist: lonely shade of blue - nick leng, cruel world - faye

a/n: just something i wrote and wanted to get out there without overthinking it too much.

Mark didn’t know immediately, didn’t look into your eyes and knew that he was in love with you. It was by no means love at first sight. Instead falling for you, falling in love with you was a gradual and slow process, a process he didn’t know was happening until it was too late.

Being with you had been so easy and natural to Mark that it took Johnny asking him if he felt something more for you for him to realise that he, in fact, did feel a little (a lot) more for you. When he finally noticed his feelings for you, it had been far too late. 

There was no falling out of love with you anymore.

In hindsight, Mark could actually pinpoint the events that had him falling for you, but at the time he really hadn’t noticed at all. A part of him did feel incredibly stupid because, God, he should have noticed, should have known a long time ago.

Mark was certain that the seed of love had planted itself into his chest when he had first noticed how you would genuinely laugh at his stupidly bad jokes like they were the funniest thing you had ever heard. And there was no doubt in his mind that when you had only smiled at him when he got scared watching ‘The Shining’ and allowed him to hide behind your arm without a single word that the seed had begun sprouting. The seedling had started to grow after you had accidentally headbutted him when you were trying to learn how to skateboard. He had been holding your hands to keep you up and instead of being embarrassed after headbutting him, you had just laughed until tears brimmed your eyes. And the flower had started blooming in his chest when you had knocked on his door right at midnight on his birthday with a cake in your hands and a big smile on your lips, the candlelight pouring down your features like a golden and warm lake.

And it was even more impressive that the flower had survived in his chest, survived months and almost even a year ever since Mark first discovered it. It was a big surprise because even though Mark had been trying his hardest to keep it alive, he didn’t really have a green thumb or any real knowledge about caring for plants.

It should have died and withered a long time ago in his chest, but it hadn’t and instead only grown bigger and more beautiful every day, every day he spent with you.

And Mark knew he had to tell you about his feelings.

He knew that he had to, not even in the hopes that you would reciprocate them, but because you deserved the truth, deserved to know, deserved to know just how amazing you made him feel by simply being yourself, deserved to know that there was somebody out there that loved you for you.

But it wasn’t that easy, wasn’t as easy as Mark would like it to be, wasn’t as easy as TV and film made it look. And it wasn’t that he hadn’t tried at all, he had. 

Mark had walked up to you with the plan to tell you all, to wear his heart on his sleeve and spill the beans. He wanted you to know just how you made him feel, wanted you to know the amount of love sitting deep in his chest for you, but every time he tried, every time he opened his mouth to finally profess his love for you, Mark would get all tongue-tied. The words would fall short and his throat would constrict into a painful and suffocating lump.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair because, God, Mark wanted to tell you so badly. He wanted to tell you so much that he had made it his New Year’s resolution, his one and only New Year’s resolution, to tell you how he felt by the end of January, but just like with any other New Year’s resolution, he gave up on it after barely a week.

And now, you two had graduated.

“We’ve finally done it, huh? Finally graduated,” you said and kicked a tiny stone back and forth. Mark glanced at you and a smile tugged on the corners of his lips as he watched you wrinkle your forehead.

“Crazy,” he exhaled and picked on his pants while sweat collected on the back of his neck and his heart continued racing in his chest like it was about to explode.

Mark couldn’t quite believe it, couldn’t believe that high school was finally over. The past four years were a rollercoaster and even though there were times where he just wanted to get off and run away, he did enjoy the ride.

And you were a big reason why. Mark couldn’t imagine a day he hadn’t spent interacting with you in some form, couldn’t imagine a day you and he didn’t end up laughing until tears brimmed your eyes, couldn’t imagine a day you didn’t brighten, sweeten up.

So, it was odd and weird and incredibly difficult for Mark to sit here with you on this bench and stare at the empty campus weeks after both of you had received your high school diploma without feeling gloomy, sad and incredibly regretful.

Mark looked at the cracks in the pavement of the campus and remembered how you had tripped once and ruined your knee on it, looked at the gate he would always stand at and wait for you to finish up class, looked at the piece of lawn that had eroded off because he and you would sit underneath the big eucalyptus tree whenever the sun would burn a little too bright, looked at the bench you two were sitting on right now because that was your bench, looked at the faded ‘Mark’s and Y/N’s bench’ you had written on with sharpie when you two were just juniors. 

“I think I might miss this,” you mumbled quietly and shook your head at yourself rather than anything else. “I can’t believe that it’s time for college already.”

“Yeah, I know,” Mark hummed in agreement and puckered his forehead at the thought of not sitting in class with all of his friends in the dimly lit and cold classrooms. His heart was still racing, quickening as he thought about your words.

Mark was going to miss it, miss being able to look over his shoulder and lock eyes with Johnny or Renjun or (more importantly) with you, miss bullshitting his way through a presentation he and you had haphazardly finished during your lunch break because both of you had spent yesterday watching every horror film you could get your hands on, miss meeting up with his friends and you to go study, but end up talking the hours away until the librarian would inevitably throw you all out for being a little too loud, miss skipping classes on the most beautiful days with you to go find the best pancake or waffle or ice cream place or whatever your new obsession was.

But he was going to miss-

“I’m gonna miss you.”

-you the most.

Mark couldn’t bring himself to look at you, couldn’t turn his head and look you into your eyes when you spoke up again. There was a painful knot sitting deep in his throat and he had trouble breathing. His fingers were itching for you, itching to hold your hands, but all he could do was press them against his thighs to stop them from trembling too much. 

Your words hurt and hit him, cut into him like a knife. They were like daggers pushing through his heart and leaving gaping holes behind. They deepened the feeling of sorrow and regret in him and for once, Mark wished he could turn back time, wished he could have just a little more time, a little more time and courage so he could tell you, confess earlier.

“I’m going to miss you, too,” Mark finally whispered, words slipping past his lips quietly and you looked at him. “It’s not that bad, right? I mean, sure, we won’t see each other or hang out every day like we have for the past years, but it’s just half an hour. It- It’s really not that bad. We’ll survive, right? Just because we’re going to different colleges, it doesn’t mean we have to stop being friends, right?”

You didn’t say anything, but Mark was too nervous and worked up to actually notice your silence and lack of response. If he had, he would have known, known that something was wrong, but he didn’t. 

Your feet pressed into the ground and even though he wanted to, Mark couldn’t bring himself to look at you. And in those few seconds of silence, it felt like his heart in his chest was going to burst through his rib cage and walk away from him because he knew you were waiting for him to look at you.

When Mark finally somehow willed himself to turn his head to you, finally somehow willed himself to look you in the eyes, finally somehow willed himself to face you, he knew that this, this, was truly his last chance right now.

And even though Mark had attempted so many times to tell you how he feels about you, this time he could actually feel the courage built up inside him, could feel the words start to dance on his tongue, could feel the lump in his throat finally unfurl.

Maybe it was because you looked so beautiful with the way the sunlight poured down your features and the way your lips were all glossy from your lip balm or maybe it was because you both had finally graduated. Whatever it was, Mark knew that this time he was going to tell you, tell you how he feels about you.

“I have to-”

“Wait.”

You looked at him with your mouth agape and if Mark hadn’t been so busy with looking around before finally finding what he had searched for, he would have seen that something swimming in your eyes, would have seen the way you looked at him, would have seen the way the corners of your lips were turned downwards.

Mark bent down and picked the closest and incidentally the most beautiful little daisy he could find before handing it to you. You took it, looking at it before looking back up at Mark and it was then when he let it out.

“I love you.”

The three small words sat between Mark and you, filled up the air, hit your ears in a soft whisper. Your eyes softened at them, softened in a way he had never seen before. And it was in the way the corners of your lips curled up that had Mark’s heart cracking and breaking.

“Mark,” you whispered softly before looking back at the daisy in your hand and placing it gently next to you on the bench.

You put your hand on his, squeezing as you shook your head at him and Mark knew, knew he had messed up, knew he should have stayed silent. His heart had just been begging him, begging him to admit the truth to him and he couldn’t not listen to it, just had to say it.

“I really wish you had told me sooner,” you whispered and leaned into Mark, head hitting his shoulder. You stayed there for a while, stayed with your forehead pressed against his shoulder and Mark felt the courage wash away, felt the words dry on his tongue and turn it itchy, felt the lump grow back, bigger than ever.

“God, I wish you had told me so much sooner,” you choked and lifted your head, gaze meeting Mark’s in an instant. And aside from the tears, he saw something else in your eyes. 

“Oh my God,” Mark whispered before leaning back to look at you better. It was then while he was looking into your eyes that he remembered, remembered so clearly that it was almost unfair that he only remembered now, now that he had finally told you how he truly felt about you. “You’re moving.”

You screwed your eyes shut and it was the confirmation Mark needed to know that he was right. He couldn’t even scoff or express his disappointment in any way because after all, he had been the one that had waited so long to finally tell you, because after all, he was to blame.

Mark remembered how you had mentioned it before, remembered how you had mentioned that you were contemplating applying to this prestigious university across the country, but at the time, you had been unsure, unsure because it meant you would have to change your whole life, would have to leave your family and friends behind, would have to move away. And Mark also remembered that he had been the one that encouraged you to apply, encouraged you to give it a try and not worry about anything else.

His gaze shifted away from you and instead he stared at the campus in front of him, stared at the campus both of you had called yours for the past four years.

“How long have you-”

Mark couldn’t bring himself to finish the question, words sitting heavy on his chest and he really thought he might suffocate.

“I got the letter a few weeks ago,” you said quietly and Mark snapped his head at you, but instead of looking back at him, you stared at your hands and pressed your heels into the ground like you wanted to dig a hole for yourself.

“I couldn’t tell you, not you,” you shook your head and Mark knew from the trembling of your voice that you were on the verge of tears, “I- I wanted to. I knew I had to, but I- I just couldn’t.”

Mark wanted to reach over and cup your face when he watched you swipe the tears away, fingers dragging on your cheeks too harshly. He wanted to tell you not to pull on your skin so much, wanted to show you how to do it properly, but his hands were glued to his side. His mind was still processing everything that had just happened.

“Is that why you wanted to meet up here?” Mark asked and your eyes locked with his for just a second before you looked away and stared at your hands again. Mark’s gaze stayed on you and you didn’t have to confirm it for him to know. After four years, you were an open book to him.

“You mean so much to me,” you started to curl up into a ball, “I couldn’t bring myself to tell you, couldn’t ruin the rest of our time together.”

“When are you going?”

Mark watched you screw your eyes shut, watched you press your lips together in an attempt to swallow the words, but you couldn’t, couldn’t because you knew he deserved to know. So you turned your head to him and met his gaze even though it hurt you, even though your heart cracked just like his when you did.

“Tomorrow.”

Tears, hot and painful, spilled from your eyes and down your cheeks. A sob banged on the walls of your throat and you could feel yourself breaking and hurting more and more.

Your fingers curled around Mark’s and your knuckles turned white around his hand. All he could do was turn his palm and wrap his fingers around yours, squeezing back in an effort to make this easier because he hated to see you like this.

Mark wanted to tell you that it was fine, tell you that you shouldn’t cry, but he couldn’t, couldn’t because he didn’t want to let you go, wanted you here. 

“I’m so sorry.”

You sniffed and sobbed your way through the words.

“Do you love me?”

Mark still wanted to know, still wanted to know if he and you could have been something, still wanted to know that if things had turned out differently, if he and you would be in each other’s arms right now and giggling instead of crying.

“I love you.”

Never did Mark imagine that hearing you tell him that you loved him would hurt so much, imagine that hearing you tell him that you loved him would break his heart into literal pieces, imagine that hearing you tell him that you loved him would tear him apart and leave him empty and gutted.

“You do?” Mark whispered, voice breaking as he watched you crumble apart in front of him. You forced yourself to look into his eyes and when you did, you saw the pain in them, sparkling in the sunlight.

“So much.”

The corner’s of Mark’s lips turned up into the most beautiful smile he could muster up right now.

“I do, too,” he murmured and before a new wave of tears could hit you and stream down your face, Mark leaned forward and captured your lips. 

They were soft, soft like clouds, soft like he had imagined how they would be every time he watched you put on lip balm, but they weren’t sweet like he thought they would be. Instead, Mark tasted the tears on your lips, tasted the salt, tasted the pain rippling through you.

Your hands found Mark’s neck and you instinctively pulled him closer, closer because that was all you wanted right now. And maybe you were just tasting your own tears or maybe you were tasting Mark’s tears that he hid from you by pressing his lips against yours, but you could taste the salt on the tip of your tongue.

With one hand, Mark cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin lightly to wipe away the tears that continued to run down your face and with the other hand, Mark held you close to him, grabbing onto your waist to pull you closer.

This was definitely not how either of you imagined your first kiss with each other was going to be like, but there was no changing of it, no undoing the circumstances. You were going to go, were going to move away, had to move away and you two just had to accept that.

And when Mark and you finally pulled away, you looked deep into each other’s eyes, looked at each other like you were each other’s worlds and maybe you had been for the past four years, but now it was ending, coming to a beautiful albeit bittersweet end.

Mark reached over and took the daisy again before gently tucking your hair away. With delicate fingers, he put the daisy behind your ear. He and you locked eyes and there was this satisfied smile pulling on the corners of Mark’s lips.

“I’m so happy for you,” Mark lied through his teeth and even though he could see that you knew, you let the corners of your lips curl up into a smile, tears brimming your eyes again. 

“Thank you.”

You skimmed the daisy with your fingertips before lacing your fingers with his and holding onto Mark’s hands like your life depended on it. And a part of you, a part of you really did feel like it did, did feel like if you let go, your world would crumble apart and you knew Mark felt it too by the way he was squeezing and holding your hand.

And in that moment of silence, in that moment of silence where you both just stared at each other, you knew, thought the same thing, had the same words dancing on the tip of your tongues.

You were the one that got away.

→  links don’t work, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts/feedback! i’d love to hear it!

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

* * * *

INTERVIEW: SAINT MISBEHAVIN’ WAVY GRAVY

by Richard Whittaker, Dec 21, 2010

One day I got a note from ServiceSpace founder, Nipun Mehta offering me tickets to a new documentary movie about Wavy Gravy. Would you like to go?

    I went. Although I was aware of Wavy Gravy as a cultural icon, I really knew very little about him. The film is a eye-opener. Michelle Esrick’s loving documentary, Saint Misbehavin’ - 10 years in the making - is a real introduction to this remarkable man. I'd never heard about Hugh Romney, the man who later became famous as Wavy Gravy. And what a story. I'll mention just one of its surprises: earlier in his life, Hugh Romney was Lenny Bruce's manager.

    A few weeks after seeing the film, at Mehta’s urging, I had the chance to interview Wavy Gravy himself.

Richard Whittaker:  How are you feeling about Saint Misbehavin’?

Wavy Gravy:  Oh, it’s a swell movie. I’m honored to be so well-documented, and the review in the New York Times was embarrassing. I’m not that good.

RW:  You said in the film that you’re an “intuitive clown.” Would you mind saying something about what that means?

WG:  I’m trained in the art of acting improvisation. That means acting on the spur of the moment rather than doing, say, the focused slow burn and all the traditional clown moves. I don’t do any of that.

RW:  So that would be about sensing the moment, what’s there, and taking in who you’re with.

WG:  Absolutely—and sensing what’s going on. I was, for a number of years, with The Committee in San Francisco. I taught improvisation at Columbia Pictures. Harrison Ford was one of my students and I’ve taught improvisation at Camp Winnarainbow for over thirty years.

RW:  I wanted to ask you about your history. For instance, in New York in Greenwich Village, you wrote poetry, right?

WG:  Yes I did.

RW:  Is any of it available? And is it something you’d want people to find?

WG:  There are a couple of slender volumes out there. I think you’d have to go to Amazon or eBay to find them. I don’t even have copies myself. But other people do and will lend them to me when I need them.

RW:  Do any titles stand out for you?

WG:  Kaleidoscope and there’s Joe’s Song, which is taught in a poetry class at the University of California at Berkeley. Would you like to hear it?

RW:  Please.

WG:  Okay. It goes like this:  “Once upon and ever since I was a child in a child’s world. I have wept a child’s tears and built a child’s wall of clay and stone and colored years of poems in paint and virgin gold. I sought to build a wall so tall from lion eggs from Gallilee, a brick of song among the dregs of silver nails and lesser men a mile long to kiss the sun and climb again. Once ago and ever now I stood a man on a child’s wall. I stopped and prayed to spider webs and roses of the sea. I spoke as one with all the earth and knew the pain of birth and death to be the same without my wall. Once upon and ever furled I stand alone with all the world.”

RW:  That’s beautiful.

WG:  I wrote it in 1960 or about then. I don’t write lyric poems very often. These days I mainly write haiku, usually when friends pass away, which is happening more and more frequently from natural causes. Also I’ve been having the good fortune to have my art exhibited, and I do a haiku to go with each piece.

RW:  I’m imagining that, as a younger man, you had certain visions and deep feelings that could have been a liability for living the conventional life.

WG:  I don’t think I ever had to contend with that one [laughs]. I live in the land of one thing after another. [speaking with an east Indian accent] “The sand only goes through the hourglass one grain at a time,” as some Hindu sage proclaimed. I’ve discovered that to be true.

RW:  Did you have mentors who supported you in Greenwich Village?

WG:  It was kind of amusing. I was going to theater school at Boston University, which was an amazing theater school. The finest directors in the world would come in and the whole college would read for a part. A freshman could get a lead. It was extraordinary. And if you weren’t cast in the production, you would be cast in the lighting crew or the costume crew or the stage crew. Then there was an upset about theater students not doing their social studies and the university attempted to move the campus of the theater school over to where the rest of the university was laid out. Just at that time, the teachers who had all been hired during the McCarthy blackball because they couldn’t work on Broadway, well, the blackball ended and they all quit. They went to work at the Neighborhood Playhouse in New York City, and they took me with them.

    But while I was at BU, I had read in Time Magazine about jazz and poetry in San Francisco. I thought, hey, I’ve written a couple of poems and I know some musicians. I can do that! So I got together with a bunch of artists from the museum school and we proceeded to take the basement of a bar called The Rock on Huntington Avenue. The place in the basement was called The Pebble in the Rock. We put in black tables and black clothes and mobiles and paintings and began doing jazz and poetry. It was the first jazz and poetry done on the East Coast. So I had the privilege of inaugurating the East Coast to jazz and poetry. I persisted in doing it for years in, of all places, Hartford Connecticut. On every Monday I would grab a bunch of musicians and go to Hartford and make substantial money. Otherwise I was going to the Neighborhood Playhouse and reading my poetry in the evenings at the Gaslight Café in Greenwich Village, as you saw in the movie.

RW:  That’s an amazing story. There was another thing you said in the film, “put your good where it can do the most.”

WG:  Which is the advice I gleaned from one of my mentors, the author and adventurer, Ken Kesey.

RW:  Did that kind of focus something for you?

WG:  Well, it lit up. It lit up. I had discovered that, somewhat. Whenever I would do a good thing, it made me feel good. I think I heard a preacher of color on television in the late fifties. He said, “It’s nice to be nice.” And that kind of hit a chord for me.

RW:  Do you think there’s a mix in what artists do? That in your poetry, part of it was trying to give something?

WG:  Hmmm, I don’t know. I was just trying to get out of the way and let whatever was inside of me come to the surface. In the early days, I was not all that consciously altruistic—although, in the early days of poetry, the poets were not paid. We used to pass a cornucopia around after an hour or so and people would put money in it. We made an embarrassing amount of money that way. Myself and Len Chandler, who was one of the first folk singers I brought into The Gaslight, he and I put on these capes with hoods—Len was an African-American and he had a motor scooter. And we would jump on the motor scooter at the end of the evening and drive down into the Bowery and find somebody passed out on the sidewalk. We’d stuff his pockets with money and drive off and find somebody else until we’d given away at least half of what we’d made in the course of the evening. It was a lot of fun.

RW:  That’s incredible. What do you think led you to do that?

WG:  I don’t know. It just seemed like a fun thing to do. We didn’t need all that money.

RW:  Do you remember the moment when Ken Kesey said “Put your good where it will do the most good”?

WG:  No.  But he told me a lot of stuff—like, “You should honor your mother and your father.” This comes out of the Bible. As soon as I learned that Kesey had written that, I forget how he worded it, I immediately called my mother and my father and honored them verbally as best I could. And it was illuminating for them and for me. Afterwards, I called Ken up to thank him. He said, “Well, it’s just so darn simple.”

RW:  I want to ask about giving and receiving. Do you have any thoughts in general, let’s say, about giving?

WG:  Giving seems to be easy for me. Receiving is the thing I’m just beginning to learn how to do with grace. It’s a work in progress, like the rest of me. Over the last thirty years I’ve experienced considerable physical difficulty, having had to receive a series of spinal surgeries and spending amounts of time in body casts. You have no alternative, or you starve. So it was necessary. I tell people I learned patience in the hospital. [there’s a pause] That’s a pun.

RW:   You’re right! [laughs]

WG:  And as my infirmities persisted, I learned to acquiesce to the moment and accept, with as much graciousness as I could muster, the assistance of people who offered it.

RW:  I bet this is true for lots of people, that it’s easier to give than to receive.

WG:  Right, but as I pointed out, I didn’t have much choice, as with a lot of the stuff that has happened to me in my life. Life situations have presented themselves and it was either sink or swim.

RW:  This reminds me of another part in the film. This is at Woodstock. You and the other members of The Hog Farm were brought there to be the police force for the whole event. You called yourselves “the please force.”

WG:  We were the Please Force. And we had also set up what we called the Trip Tent.

RW:  And there’s a part in the movie where you describe helping a young man who was having a bad acid trip.

WG:  As he came in ranting, this three-hundred pound Australian doctor laid on top of him and said, “Body contact. You need body contact” [said with an accent] and then a psychiatrist leaned in and said, [using another funny voice] “Just think of your third eye, man.”

   Then I figured it was time for me to make my move. I said, “Excuse me. I’d like to try something here.” And they all backed up. What’s this hippie going to do? That’s when I said, “What’s your name, man?”  

RW:  And he mumbled something…

WG:  I said, “No, your name.” He told me his name and I said it back to him. In fact, I said it back to him several times.

RW:  I noticed how very clear and emphatic you were when you got his name. “Okay, Bob. Bob, that’s your name.”

WG:  Your name is Bob.

RW:  Where did you get the knowledge of using that simple directness?

WG:  We’d spent some time on the psychotropic frontiers through the prankster days and beyond. It was not unfamiliar territory.

RW:  You knew something about being really concrete, and focused.

WG:  And through the greatest professor of them all, professor experience; and from courses at hard knocks university.

RW:  You’ve had a lot of hard knocks university experience, I think.

WG:  Yes. Well, that’s how you learn things.

RW:  You said in the film how you’d found you could get high without the psychotropic assistance. Could you say something about that again?

WG:  There are many ways to alter space. I do lots of breathing exercises, and I do mantras. Different people have different recipes to get to a space of consciousness and then to dwell in it for as long as you can, I guess. My own way is an amalgam of many different practices from many different lineages.

RW:  You evolved from Hugh Romney doing the poetry to where you were wearing a jester’s hat.

WG:  Between poems I used to talk about the bizarre things that happened to me during the day because it was really tedious just reading all these poems night after night after night.  Then a guy came along and said, look, skip the poetry. Just talk about your bizarre experiences. That’s how I got into doing stand-up.

    Lenny Bruce became my manager. I put out a couple of albums and toured the U.S. —and in fact, something of the world—doing stand-up before these other things came along.

RW:  Somewhere you left the jester’s hat and started dressing as a clown.

WG:  I was asked, when we had moved to Berkeley in the mid-seventies, to go the Children’s Hospital in Oakland and cheer up kids. On the way out the door of my house, someone handed me a red, rubber nose. I discovered it enabled me to get out of myself and be entertaining to the kids. After awhile, I began to paint my face up as a clown. Somebody gave me a costume, and a clown who was retiring from Ringling Brothers gave me his giant shoes. I worked with kids, with kids who were terminal, even, and did this almost every day for about seven years.

    At one point I had to go to a political rally at Peoples’ Park and I didn’t have time to take off my clown stuff. I discovered that the police didn’t want to hit me anymore. Clowns are safe.

RW:  Can you say more about what your experience at Children’s Hospital working with kids was like?

WG:  I discovered that not only was I helping the kids, I was helping myself. As I began to do this work, I’d gone through three major back surgeries and was in quite a bit of pain. But working with the kids I discovered that as I focused on the children and the pain they were in, I lost track of my own pain.

RW:  Is the clown an archetype you can inhabit?

WG:   Sure.

RW:  Do you think, “I’m a clown?”

WG:  I don’t know. I can’t see you.

RW:  [laughs] No. I have a long way to go. If I evolved, I might become a clown.

WG:  Well, you need to go to camp Winnarainbow. They’ll teach you to clown. It’d be good for you. I think John Townsend said it most brilliantly in The Book of the Clown, “A clown is a poet who is also an orangutan.” But clown comes from the word “clod” or bumpkin, and the red nose indicates they were drunk. But I found all this out later. Suddenly I have these big shoes on and [laughs] a nose and I’m painting my face up, and where does it all come from? I began to study it, and it’s very fascinating, the path of the clown and the jester.

RW:  What have you found out about being a clown? What has been revealed?

WG:  It enables me to go places I couldn’t go as a regular kind of guy. People feel challenged by people going where I go. But when I put on the patina of a clown I’m no challenge to them in any way.

RW:  What do you wish for people when you become a clown?

WG:  I wish that they would find joy in the moment. It’s like I expressed in the film, laughter is the valve on the pressure cooker of life. Either you laugh at stuff or you’re going to end up with your beans on the ceiling.

RW:  At camp Winnarainbow in the film it showed the labyrinth you have on the grounds…

WG:  It’s a unicursal Cretan labyrinth. The oldest one is 3000 years old and was found on the island of Sardinia. The more common labyrinth, like the one you see at Grace Cathedral came about during the 11th or 12th century when Europeans could not go to Jerusalem on pilgrimage. So they developed this other labyrinth, which is different from the Pagan labyrinth, which made it to Scandanavia, to India and somehow to Peru and to the sun temple at Mesa Verde. That’s where I first encountered it when I spent time living with the Hopi Indians for a few months.

RW:  How did that happen?

WG:  I was enamored of the Book of the Hopi by Frank Waters. And that’s where I first saw the labyrinth. According to the Hopi if there was a condition of planetary emergency the different races would gather on this mesa for instruction from the spirit world. So I showed up. They said, “You’re pretty early.” But they took pity on me and I got to hang out with them for a while.

RW:  Was anything given to you?

WG:  Not something that I would feel comfortable talking about, but yes—not so much from the people as from the geography.

RW:  So you brought this labyrinth to camp Winnarainbow, then?

WG:  Yes. I asked Minalanska, who was an elder, what that was. She said, “Oh Wavy Gravy, that’s just the master plan of the universe.” So I borrowed a pencil and wrote it down, and I’ve brought it everywhere I’ve gone ever since. I learned to draw it. Even with my first book, I’d sign it and draw that labyrinth.

RW:  Now how do you make use of the labyrinth at camp for the kids?

WG:  A teepee at a time, in the evening, the campers get to walk the labyrinth to beautiful music under the stars. If they do good things, they get strokes. If they do bad things they get strikes. Three strikes and you’re out. You can always work off strikes, but you can get enough strikes to be sent home, too. By doing things above and beyond the ordinary camper—for instance, if you get eight stokes in a two-week session, you get to walk into the center of the labyrinth. In the center, there’s also these crystals. You get to take a crystal out of the labyrinth and take it home.

RW:  Do you talk to the kids about the labyrinth?

WG:  Oh, sure.

RW:  What do you tell them?

WG:  I tell them that the labyrinth is not a maze. Mazes are designed to get you lost. Labyrinths are designed to get you found. And I ask them to think of each step as a prayer for peace. I tell them you go into the labyrinth and that there’s an energy in the center that I call the spirit of Gaia, the earth mother. I say that if you have cares or problems you can leave them in the labyrinth and come out perhaps lighter than when you went in. And that is sometimes helpful to young people.

RW:  In the film you made a comment to one kid that the labyrinth is inside of you.

WG:  Oh, I tell all the kids that. The true labyrinth is inside you.

RW:  That’s powerful. From the film, I see that your life has been a journey. Do you feel it that way?

WG:  Absolutely. It’s been a great adventure.

RW:  What are some of the changes from where you were and where you are today?

WG:  The things that are the most significant for me in my life are the circus and performing arts camp that I’ve run with my wife Jahanara for over thirty years. We do nine weeks for kids and one week for grown-ups. And the Seva Foundation is another. Through it I’m able to raise funds to help the blind regain their sight. Eighty percent of the blind people in the world don’t need to be—they can get their sight back.

    When we first started doing the work it was about five dollars for a cataract operation. Now it’s close to fifty dollars for the operation in third world countries. If you go to SEVA.org you can find out all about us. We’ve helped to orchestrate—it’s going on three million sight-saving operations. I get to put on concerts to raise funds to do that. I’m going to be seventy-five years old in May and I’m looking forward to doing a concert in the Bay Area at the Craneway Pavillion in Richmond and in New York City at the Beacon Theater. And also I’m facing another basic spinal surgery in January. So I’ve got a lot of stuff on my plate.

RW:  I know we don’t have much more time, but …

WG:  Eternity now, I always say.  That’s one of my favorite quotes. And we’re all the same person trying to shakes hands with our self. I think that’s a good one, too.

RW:  I like those quotes. It’s clear that you’ve spent a lot of time doing forms of service. Camp Winnarainbow seems to be a service.

WG:  Well, my greatest legacy is the children that have come out of camp over the last thirty years. Lots of the kids who started camp when they were seven are now running the camp. And I’m sure it will go on long after I’m gone.

RW:  Is that something one begins to learn, that the deepest gifts come when one can look beyond personal wants to take in the needs of others?

WG:  That is my want! [laughs] Put your good where it will do the most. I can’t say it any better.

[WORKS AND CONVERSATIONS]

[mister-maiden]

Parasite (2019): The Distinction of Perfection

No film from 2019 surprised me as much as Parasite did. 

I took interest in the film after I heard of its rumors. Created by South Korean filmmaker Bong Joon-Ho, creator of some of my favorite films such as Snowpiercer, Mother, and the Host, Parasite stands to be one of the greatest films of 2019 alongside Joker for showing what understanding the utilization of basic film  technique looks like, and refining it to perfection.

I shall only be writing about the elements of what was seen rather than the plot for spoilers sake. I wouldn’t want a single one of you to be spoiled of viewing such a masterpiece, so I will attempt to present vague samples of how the elements are used rather than specific moments at first. This shall change towards the end where I shall list a *SPOILER WARNING* line. You have been warned. So! Let’s get to it. 

*****************************************PARASITE********************************************

Created by Bong Joon-Ho, Parasite (2019) is about a low income family, the Kims, slowly infiltrating the lives of a wealthier family, the Parks, by taking over as staff through whatever means necessary.  While the story is expertly crafted to give a seamless story to the audience, its visual elements are what excited me to no end. Through its usage of the most basic elements of framing such as lines, lighting, and camera angle, Parasite was able to utilize film as its medium to tell a story completely through visuals.

In other films, typically there is some thought placed in the set and design of each shot. Where should this pencil go? Is this starbucks cup in the way of our medieval series? While there are some filmmakers who briefly touch on this, some such as Wes Anderson has made their own vision of how film should be. For instance, when you are watching a Wes Anderson film, you will know exactly who made it because of his signature visual elements like the ultra wide shot, color, and costume design. All of these choices are entirely deliberate to separate itself from other films and filmmakers. What makes Parasite so great is its attention to the most basic of these elements. Rather than choosing elements that would have surely made it stick out like color and costumes, Bong Joon-Ho chose to harness the most basic of components such as lines.

Lines are used to create boundaries between objects, form objects into groups, and more. In the visual space, lines can be produced from just about anything like corners, cracks, and anything that can place an interruption between two objects. In Parasite, the line is used to separate the families before and after the families collide to contrast their lifestyles, wealth, and more. This is to use film to its full extent as the best visual storytelling medium. In full control of everything that happens on screen, Bong Joon-Ho has each family separated in shots by lines consistently in the first half by harsh lines that van be easy to point out, and then he switches to vague, difficult to see lines in the second half. Instead of constantly using the same type of lines, he creates the sense of slow invasion and the idea that no matter what the Kim family does, they will never be in the same light nor grouping as the Parks. This is further explored through the story in several instances such as smell, language, and manners; however, this is not a review of the content of the film, rather the visual stimuli, so I will touch on this at a later time. 

Through the usage of the most basic of shapes, Parasite continually presented the struggle of non-belonging, difference, and invasion. With lines being placed in strategic areas to contrast workers with the higher class, they also show the slow infestation of what was happening. Solid lines which were placed in visual form became boundaries. There are even several times when Mr. Park speaks about “the line” and when someone crosses it. In my opinion, the visual line is the perfect representation of this line that Park talks about.

It brings a certain level of class difference to the world around the families, with the Parks being used to this large house and room, the Kims have forever made their home in insect covered filth due to unfortunate circumstances and poor financial choices. The visual invades the story itself by displaying how different these two families are and contrasting the two using a simple element of visual art. This family who has been in the limelight for as long as we know has had this type of life forever, acclimating to the manners, items, and personality that comes with it while the Kims have never seen such behavior to the point that Mr. Kim became surprised the Park family was so kind even though they were rich. This type of alienation comes from the lack of standing in another's’ shoes. Bong Joon-Ho not only formed this paradigm through his usage of dialogue and actors. He brought it into the environment itself, making the line its own character as a silent antagonist that follows the Kims. Another element which plays into the storytelling is the lighting. 

While living in their home, the Kims are lit with drab lighting which forces the home and environment to seem dark yet natural, representing the Kims perfectly. Their home is in a hit of disarray yet they continue to live their lives through it all. There is also a certain tinge of green which stays with the family which separates them even further from the Parks. In comparison, the Park’s home is filled with a gorgeous golden light which peers from every corner of their home. Be it from the ceiling lights to the small shelves on the wall. This envelops everything in frame to create a golden shade over everything, representing the mass amount of wealth and elevation of their lifestyle. Compared to their drab, green tint, the Parks is something entirely else to behold akin to that of a dream which can never be grasped. 

Even the lighting outside is used for storytelling. For instance, light is used in many cases to show the presence of intelligence, malevolence, or progression in comparison to darkness being this sickly, dirty element. As such, the Kims step out of the darkness of their dirty hidey hole to dream in the majestic gold of this beautiful environment...much like that of a cockroach. 

Insects, in this case a cockroach, generally reside in darker areas. This is explored heavily through how the family acts when the lights are on and off. The Kim family hides themselves to put on the facade of a group of golden employees all the while constraining their parasitic nature until they can leach more from the family. In each scene the Kim family is inside the house without the Parks, the lighting is darker.to show that they will never escape what they are and what they are doing. This existential circumstance is being entirely interpreted by a few lights and the lack of. There is even a scene where the Kim family panics and scatters as the lights slowly come back on. Just like a cockroach as shown by a direct representation in the film (you’ll know it when you see it). 

On the topic of insects, they can generally be found in low, slightly difficult to reach places. Small corners, constricted spaces, and at low elevations. To further the visual story, Bong Joon-Ho focused on refining elevation and camera angle as a further way to emphasize the Kim family behaving like Parasites. This is a continual element in the film that is explored through other characters.

Every time the Kims seem to rise physically in frame, the lights are brighter. The same vice versa as when the Kims go back home, the lights are dark, drab, and disgusting. I believe this is to continually group the families and continue this notion of how a bug can only be a bug while opening a discussion about the class solidarity of South Korea. Then again, this whole film is an entire discussion of classes in any economic system. 

This angle of elevation does not simply mean a direction for either family. It represents the gradual increase of class and difference that separates one another. There’s a reason we use phrases such as downwards spiral and climbing up the work ladder. We have vaguely identified as up to be better and down to be failure. All from things such as groveling to jumping for victory. This is by far the least used visual element in comparison to lighting and lines, but it was too prominent to not mention as there are entire scenes dedicating to visually telling the story of these families only using the shots of rising and falling. 

Visually, Parasite is one of the best films of 2019. There are few films which are able to tell an entire story so perfectly through the refinement of such basic visual elements. This is where it all comes together though. Even though all of these elements are different to each family, they are present within each.

It concretes the feeling of class solidarity because it shows that both families have each element. From the bluntest of lines to the brightest of lights, these elements are constantly in life of the Kim family and forever holds a boundary that near invisibly separates them as the insects, and the Park family as, well, more. It’s this solidarity that sparks the question of if any of these boundaries, if any of these visual ques and verbal manners even mean anything and if the Kim family ever even had a chance in the first place. 

I absolutely urge you to watch this film, not simply because it is good. It is the perfect example of what distinction by perfection is. Work on an element long enough and it will come to be the very thing you are known by. As Bruce Lee said: I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times.”

********************************SPOILERS AND MOVIE TALK******************

There are so many moments in this film that scream amazing at me. First, I’d like to take a moment to analyze scenes involving lines. Then I will look to lighting, then to elevation. Here I will be giving examples of the scenes I remember the most fondly. 

In this scene, the sister of the Kim family and the mother of the Park family are conversing about the young boy from the Park Family. Poising herself as someone from art school specializing in “art therapy”, Jessica (Kim daughter) is able to convince the mother of her talents by controlling the quite rowdy child. What I want to draw attention to is the lighting in the back, this very faint light coming from the basement in the form of three bright lights.

From the beginning of the conversation, Jessica and Mrs. Park are seated on the same side of the table sitting side by side. The entire time, Mrs. Park stays on the left side of the lights while Jessica stays on the right, meanwhile the Maid slowly moves to Mrs. Park’s side and slightly obscures the line. In my opinion, this is a way to represent that the maid was in a similar position to the Kim family, and had already infiltrated the Park’s sanctum. It was something quite small, but I don’t believe it was not on purpose because of what happens next. 

As the conversation goes on, the lights suddenly disappear. Before, the line was vague at best because of how blurred the lights were, so it seems this was a “weak barrier” so to speak. This is to represent the infiltration of Jessica into the Park family. Jessica reaffirmed herself as knowing Psychology and Art Therapy. As soon as she said this, the barrier was put down since she reminded Mrs. Park of her credibility/Ethos. As the line is gone, the conversation is suddenly controlled by Jessica as she begins to ask the questions. 

The camera then does a sudden pan to capture an over the shoulder shot of Mrs. Park listening to Jessica. This right here is the visual representation of Jessica taking hold of the barrier and destroying it, as we never see that line in this scene again. The camera stays with Jessica showing how dominant she is in control as opposed to the “simple” Mrs. Park simply listening to this nonsense Jessica is spouting. 

In this scene, only two lines were used to show boundaries, and in two minutes those boundaries were turned off, or atleast dampened by Jessica because of her attention to detail and acting. The visual boundary of lights were destroyed through her credibility while the pan of the mother got rid of the line created by Jessica’s hair which represented both a loss of power, and the idea that this question may not have ended well if Jessica had not proven her credentials first. For my next example, I will be using the conversation between Mr. Kim and Mr. Park in their car. This is when Mr. Kim comments on Mr. Park’s wife for the first time about how Park must love her. 

In this scene, Mr. Park is complaining about his wife and her lack of skill in housework. Mr. Kim then adds the comment, “You love her, right?” 

The distinction between these two characters is carried out between an invisible line between the front and the backseat that the camera constantly balances on. Every time a character speaks, the camera cuts to them rather than panning as to show a constant flow of conversation. So far everything seems completely okay until it gets to this one comment.

The camera, rather than cut out, pans on a swivel and looks to Mr. Park. This was a direct difference than the previous cuts because it was an invasion of privacy and a crossing of that line that shouldn’t be crossed. As I stated before, Jessica was okay with crossing this line because she easily demolished the line that stopped her from asking those type of questions. For instance, I doubt the interview would have gone well if she had said she was from a culinary school. In this scene, in no place does Mr. Kim get the chance to destroy any of these lines, and he rushed in to capitalize either on any weaknesses in the family, or in some way to feel good about his own marriage which seemed fine. 

With the sudden pan came the annoyed expression of Mr. Park as Kim obviously crossed a line that shouldn’t be touched. There was no need for a driver to talk to his employer about relationships in comparison to the art therapist talking to a mother about her child’s...art therapy. 

This was the best example of Mr. Kim crossing the line visually because the camera only pans like this in precise moments. Why would Bong Joon-Ho pick this moment to add a random pan? It was to disorient audiences since it was such a change in visuals and a hard hitting question. While this is one of my favorite examples of the line being crossed, here is an example of the line being ever present in the inner turmoil of the Kim family’s son, Kevin.

As seen in many scenes of Kevin, he is quite philosophical with how he views things. From tests to giant rocks, Kevin believes many elements of his life can be seen as metaphorical. It is this scene that hits hardest in this regard, and it can all be explained through a simple explanation of the line in this scene.

This is Kevin staring out into the courtyard at all the upper class preparing for the party. Some are chopping wood with a single arm while others are tuning their instruments. Many of the activities can be seen as “upper class” since they have the time to practice as well as the activities being more elegant rather than horsing around. This is paired with a bright light which is cast on them from above to make them seem even more angelic. While he looks, a pale reflection of him is casted on the window above...yet he is separated from himself by the line this time under the stress of heavy inner turmoil.

The line which previously separated the Kim family from the Park’s is now creating a metaphorical barrier of who Kevin is and how he should act. His entire arc in the film has been finding out who he was while also knowing what he was doing was a complete lie and fabricated. Everything of what he has been doing has been fake and meant nothing. From the tutoring to the party. The reflection of Kevin is the Kevin that was perfect and went to University, while the pale reality was he is nothing like any of these people. He knows he is separated, and he can’t change it. There is even a faint golden light in his reflection to show how it was all fake. meanwhile in his real appearance not a single shed of golden light is on him. Only faint shades of it as he was slowly coming to reality...And the line showed it all in a single visual as not only acting as a physical barrier of glass. It acted as a metaphorical barrier of disorder.

There is one scene with a line I’d like to discuss that sort of envisioned the story as a whole. This scene is while the Kim family are taking in the pleasures of the Park household but must hide underneath the table.

In this scene, when the Parks sit down at the couch and the Kims hid under the table, a slow pan occurs with the camera slowly lowering itself to show the situation underneath the table. The line here is the table, and it is the only pan shot in this scene. 

This is without a doubt the perfect representation of the film through its usage of visual alone. For one, the Kim family are seen having to lay in their own filth in the darkness similar to their starting point in the film while the Parks get to lounge. These two lives are divided by a single line which seems impossible to cross. The Kims must stick to their cramped, disgusting space while the Parks are able to lounge and roam their large space without a care in the world. They don’t need to lift a finger because their employees had already done everything. 

While under the line, Mr. Park talks about Mr. Kim’s smell because it crossed the line in the car. It was even crossing this line made by the table by him even smelling it in the first place. In my opinion, I believe this line represents so much more. It’s the lack of understanding of one another, the differences between these groups. The Parks have never had to lift a finger so they can’t imagine the lives the Kims lead and vice versa. Neither can fully understand the other because of this *line* this...separation of the two entities that can never be completely overcome and thrown away. Neither understand why or how the other does what they do and it will remain just as that. 

Next I will be using an example of lighting use that is very simple but 100% effective at its storytelling. Refined to a tip, Bong Joon-Ho uses the lighting in this scene to tell the tale of Kevin’s step into the wealthy life of the Park’s.

(Not a good picture, but couldn’t find one)

In this scene, Kevin talks to his father about his fake university document being made early as he will go to University when he gets the money. He then steps out of his home of shadows and into the light of the streets as he makes his way upwards towards the Park House.

A scene that could easily be looked over. This whole time Kevin has been in this dank house but had been given the opportunity to go into the light. It showed that he was making his first steps into a world entirely unknown to him. I don’t have much else to say, but the scene was grand. 

For an example of elevation, I don’t want to just post lots of scenes of them going up and down so I will just talk about them.

In general, there are 6 directions you can take when it comes to cameras. Up, down, left, right, closer, farther. You can argue diagonal directions are different but I digress. In all scenes showing the trips to the Park’s home, it is always filled with bright light. Anyone walking upwards in this city will be blinded as the sun always seems to shine on those moving upwards. It is almost like the environment itself is a character and is representing what is happening. Then, the one time the KIm family must fall down from their lovely home they infested, the environment is dark, gloomy, and wet. 

All and all, the usage of elevation was very simple, yet used so much that it was refined perfectly to represent exactly what it set out to show - the difference between the families. 

I feel as though I could continue on about these three aspects, but I have grown sorta tired of writing this one. Parasite is an amazing film and I truly do hope you see it. It would be an absolute waste to skip out on a film like this.

[justbnhatrash]

Todoroki is nervous about being naked in front of (Y/N) for the first time

Here we go, everybody! My first fic posted here. Feel free to give criticisms!!

Warning to all! There is slight nudity towards the end along with make outs leading to events that were not written. If this makes you uncomfortable consider not reading.

“Todoroki-kun, is everything alright?” Uraraka asked her friend at the lunch table. Class would start back up soon and Todoroki had barely spoken since lunch had started. “Hm?” He broke out of his thoughts. “Oh, yes. I’m fine.” He said it with such finality that most people would believe him. The group surrounding him were not most people. “Are you sure, Todoroki-san. You’ve seemed kind of nervous all day.” Midoriya added. To Uraraka’s concerns.

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for your concerns, but I’ll be headed back to class now.” Todoroki gave a brief nod of his head and made for the door. The dekusquad exchanged looks but decided to leave it alone for now. Todoroki got like this sometimes. In their experience, it was best to wait at least a day, to be sure it was something they needed to help with and not his natural aloofness. Seeing (Y/N) leave shortly after Todoroki made them feel better about the situation. Knowing that if anyone could get through to the walking contradiction, it would be her.

In the hallway, (Y/N) struggled to catch up with Todoroki. “Todoroki-kun, wait up!” she shouted after the male. He halted his movements, turning around to wait for her. Catching up with him, she lightly grabbed his hand, giving a small squeeze and a smile. Todoroki was glad it was his right hand she had grabbed. She certainly would have felt the rising temperature from his left side. He returned a small smile and continued walking.

“Hey, Todoroki-kun, do you want to have a date night in the dorms tonight? I was thinking we could watch some movies or something in your room. Or mine if your more comfortable that way, I just really want to spend some time with you, you’ve been so busy lately.” (Y/N) rambled slightly but it warmed Todoroki’s heart that she wanted to spend more time with him. Todoroki and (Y/N) were a fairly new couple. Having only been going out for a few months, things were actually moving along quite quickly for the two. They were friends for around two years, meeting in middle school where she stubbornly stayed by his side despite his rude behavior, even to her.

After transferring into UA for high school, Todoroki began to open with his emotions. Allowing himself to befriend others and open up to the stubborn girl that he had truthfully grown fond of. It had certainly been a journey, with the eclectic classmates he had. But he found himself in a state of contentment. That was until Midoriya helped him realize that he liked his closest friend more than he had thought.

It didn’t come as a shock to Midoriya or any other members of the dekusquad that Todoroki had no idea how to approach the subject of relationships. It simply wasn’t his area of expertise. As such, they felt it their duty to help their friend out and get him to confess to the girl. They had never brought it up to you, but all of them were certain that you were head over heels for the heterochromatic boy. As such, they devised a plan to set you both up on dates that weren’t technically dates. This proved to be ineffective since you were rarely seen without one another in the first place. As such, they resorted to telling Todoroki to confess. So, he did.

It wasn’t a completely romantic moment between the two of you. Truthfully it was like any other day. You were studying together in the common room, also having small conversations with the other residents of the dorm. You were focused while he was lured into a conversation with Uraraka about how he should just tell you his feelings. He refused at first, not wanting to push you away; but with sincere reassurance from the girl, he turned to you. She expected him to take you to a different room, maybe even outside the dorms, to confess. What she didn’t expect, was for him to lightly tap his pencil in front of you, grabbing your attention, and blurt out his feelings.

“(Y/N)-chan, I’ve talked about it with the others, and have come to the conclusion that I have feelings for you. Would you like to go on a date with me?” He gave a very small smile at the end. Your face, on the other hand, lit up like a Christmas tree. A smile as wide as your cheeks could bear was stretched across your face as you nodded. Taking it as a yes, he turned and told Uraraka ‘Thank you’ before going back to studying, your hand resting lightly atop his on the table.

Back to the present, Todoroki laced his fingers with yours. “It sounds like exactly the kind of thing I would look forward to tonight.” He gave a small peck to your forehead and opened the door for your return to class. You bounced with excitement, eagerly wanting to get through the rest of the day so that you could force cuddles onto your boyfriend. Not that he would dream of denying them and would likely cuddle you in class if it didn’t get you both into trouble with Mr. Aizawa. Said teacher came rolling through the door, stuffed into his sleeping bag, ready to begin class once again.

*Time Skip*

Todoroki waited patiently that night for (Y/N) to return with the snacks they would be feasting upon tonight. They had already chosen the movie for the night, a romance film that (Y/N) had been interested in recently. Truthfully, Todoroki wasn’t likely to pay the movie any mind, so he agreed to whatever was proposed to him. Instead, he was sure he would find himself much more invested in the girl that would be wrapped around his left side as she typically was during these types of dates.

You quickly opened and closed the door, trying your best to keep the loudness of your dormmates from inside the room. You took in a small breath, appreciating the calm compared to the mess you had to endure in trying to get the snacks through the halls of ever-hungry students. You had managed to bundle together a medium bowl of popcorn as well as a varied amount of candies, from skittles to chocolate, in a separate bowl. Todoroki moved quickly to take the bowls from you, gesturing for you to take a seat on the bed while he put in the movie.

You gave a smile and did as prompted, snuggling into the sheets that always smelled like Todoroki. A smell you could never quite name, but adored nonetheless. With the movie in, Todoroki joined you on the bed, allowing you to get comfortable, fitting into his side like a puzzle piece. He let out a small sigh of pleasure, loving the feeling of you pressed against him. Though relaxed, he remained a tiny bit tense as the feeling of your body against him also brought back thoughts from earlier that day. With a small blush painting his cheeks, and his left side warming (thankfully not too much, but enough for you to snuggle closer and not help his situation) he turned his eyes to you.

You focused intently on the movie, shoveling a handful of popcorn into your mouth on occasion. You felt Todoroki’s stare on you but brushed it off since it was normal for you to feel it on you during movie nights. When the gaze grew more intense instead of tapering of like it usually did, you moved to connect your eyes to his. You didn’t have much time to look at him before he pulled you into a sensual kiss. It was a light peck, lips brushing across yours to give you time to pull away if you chose to do so. Instead, you pulled yourself up on his arm and connected your lips to his. Taking this as your acceptance, Todoroki pulled you into his lap, the movement of the blanket knocking the snack bowls to the floor, not that either of you paid it any mind.

Now sat on Todoroki’s lap, you pulled him closer, pressing your chests together as tightly as you could manage. He brought one hand to cup your cheek, pulling you deeper into the kiss as the other wrapped itself in your hair. You used your own hands to balance yourself with his shoulders. Digging your nails into the skin slightly, surely leaving behind crescent marks. You began to lose yourself to his kisses. His tongue brushing your lips only cementing your love for this boy. Your mouth opened and a battle ensued for dominance of the kiss. Putting up as much a fight as you could, your hands finally found their way into his hair. The tugs you gave it ultimately eliciting small groans from the boy who redoubled his efforts to win the war between your mouths. And win he did, taking over this kiss entirely for a few minutes before he tilted your head back and nosed his way down to your neck.

Small nips covered your neck in time with your tugs. You let out a whine when he bit on a particularly sensitive spot. He lapped at the skin before biting onto it, doing his best to make sure that it would leave a mark. You keened at the sensation, knowing you would have to find a way to hide it from the other girls, lest they bombard you with questions about what went on tonight. Pulling his mouth off your neck, you rested your forehead against his, panting.

“Todoroki-kun, what’s this about?” You whispered through your pants. You half lidded eyes were blown with lust and it took all the control Todoroki had not to flip you under him and continue what he started. Instead, he settled for rubbing his nose against yours. “I want you, (Y/N).” His straight forward tone didn’t take you by surprise, but his words certainly did. During the months that you’ve been dating, Todoroki had never once expressed a desire such as this. He cared more for gentle touches than heated ones.

Him starting a session like this one had been a surprise enough, only having happened once before when he bottled up a bit too much jealousy at the way the boys of 1-A eyed you. Thankfully it had been during the cooler weather and you were able to hide the marks littering every inch of your neck with a scarf. At your lack of response, his hands moved to your waist and squeezed. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. I want you so badly (Y/N). All of you. Every inch of your gorgeous body you’ll let me.”

His breathy whispers were accompanied by more light kisses being pressed to your neck. “Shouto.” You called softly. Meeting your gaze, he was relieved to find the same love he always did still present in them. “Of course.” With those two words, you sealed your lips against his once again. Todoroki began running his hands up your night shirt, bunching it up to your bra before he stopped briefly to look in your eyes. With a slight nod of reassurance, he pulled the shirt over your head, basking in the sight of your skin being revealed to him.

It’s not that he hadn’t see you topless before. Between previous make out sessions and pool and beach training that you and the rest of class 1-A did from time to time, he already knew what you looked like. Even so, it didn’t change the way his breath hitched every time. Snapping out of his daze, he moved onto your shorts, sliding them down to your knees before you took care of the rest. He took this moment to flip the two of you, caging you beneath him. You caught your breath before he stole it once more with a kiss, your hands trailing from cupping his face down his torso to the hem of his shirt.

Todoroki caught your wrist before you had a chance to pull up his shirt. You pulled back with confusion written in your eyes, but Shouto wouldn’t meet them. “Shouto?” He didn’t reply, he simply held your wrist, breathing a tad heavier than before, even after the broken kiss. With soft eyes it clicked in your mind. Todoroki had never been one too fond of his appearance. That’s not to say he didn’t think other people found him attractive, he was often told he was the most attractive boy in 1-A, maybe even UA. That aside, he never found himself overly confident with how he looked. He hadn’t even in middle school.

You let go of his shirt and turned your hands to hold his. Bringing them up to your face and giving kisses to his knuckles. “It’s alright if you don’t really want to do this right now Shouto. There’s no pressure. We can take things at your pace.” Kissing his last knuckle, he made eye contact. In his eyes you could see the frazzled nerves. You brought up one hand and traced the edge of his scar. “I will never stop loving you. You know that?” His eyes softened and he nodded. Giving him a soft peck, he took his hands from your hold and removed his shirt.

You traced the lines of his toned body, touching as much as you could. Taking your time on the lines that led to his hips, you felt him shudder. He dropped into another kiss, this one searing itself into your memory. The way his tongue danced across yours and the way his body felt against your hands. After a minute, you gripped his sides and pulled his pelvis flush to yours in a grind. He let out a shaky breath and pulled back to take off his pants as well.

Returning to the bed, resting on his knees above you, Todoroki took the time to admire your physique. “You’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen. I will love you to my grave.” He eyed every curve, his hands following close behind. He really did mean to touch every inch of your body that you would let him. The small moans drifting out of your mouth only serving to push him onwards. “You’ll need to be quiet, darling. We’re still in the dorms.” His fingers brushed over your covered nipples as you whimpered. Your tongue darted over your lips, catching his attention.

“We’ll do this together, (Y/N). Don’t worry, I’m going to be right here with you through it all.”

[helloalycia]

good news [three] // alycia debnam-carey

summary: Alycia had returned home now, and you are adamant on watching her character 'Lexa' in The 100.

warning/s: none.

one | two | masterlist

Alycia settled into our flat pretty easily and without a hitch. It felt great having her back where I could just hang out with her without it having to be through a phone screen.

It wasn't long before The 100 season 2 aired on TV and I forced Alycia to sit with me every time an episode was relaxed. Especially the episode where her character debuted. Alycia revealed nothing about this season nor how her character was, so I was genuinely in for a surprise. I knew the basics from when she told me she got the part, but that was about it.

"Alycia!" I yelled, shaking her knee. "That's you!"

Alycia chuckled as she looked up from her book to the TV. Her character 'Lexa' was being debuted and I couldn't contain my excitement from seeing my best friend on TV. Alycia felt awkward watching herself, hence the book she was reading as I watched.

"Wait, I thought you were some badass Commander?" I asked her, not tearing my eyes from the screen. Her character was being presented as some poor peasant girl. "Did they change your character?"

"Be quiet and watch and you might understand," she teased, making me roll my eyes.

I continued to watch, screaming with excitement whenever her character would come back on the telly. Eventually, the end of the episode was near and Lexa's life was being threatened by another character, Jaha.

"No, Aly, you can't die! You were filming for ages!" I complained, on the edge of my seat.

"Just keep watching, Y/N...," she mumbled, too engrossed in her book to care.

Suddenly, Lexa flipped Jaha onto his back and I screeched with excitement. As she walked back, she said something in a different language before putting some sort of armour on with the help of the guards.

"OH MY GOD, YOU'RE THE COMMANDER!" I screamed, jumping off the couch.

Alycia laughed at my reaction, pulling me back onto the couch. "You already knew I was, you idiot!"

A grin was on my lips as I looked to Alycia. "That. Was. Iconic."

She continued to laugh at my reaction as I shook my head with disbelief.

It was a regular occurrence for me to fangirl over Lexa's character whenever she came on TV. Alycia found it amusing, meanwhile I was thirsting over a fictional character and a very real best friend.

There was one time when we reached a few more episodes in from her debut and I was heavily invested in the show. Alycia was beside me reading a book again (her usual action whenever we watched it) as I watched with anticipation.

I was up to the part where Lexa and the main character, Clarke, were burning Finn's body when Lexa was talking about losing her loved one, Costia.

"OH MY GOD, YOU'RE A LESBIAN!" I screamed, pointing to the screen.

Alycia laughed from her corner of the couch and I looked to her seriously.

"Obviously your character, not you," I clarified, "but still."

Alycia nodded, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Thanks for reminding me." I felt my cheeks grow warm with embarrassment as she continued. "This was what I was talking about when I said there was something about my character you'd like."

Alycia knew I was gay and she also knew about my endless rants about the lack of LGBTQ+ characters in the industry. She knew how important this was to me.

I grinned. "She's a big fat lesbian Commander. Who would have thought?"

Alycia laughed all over again.

I sighed with exaggeration and sprawled myself over Alycia's lap, forcing her to close her book.

"This is amazing, I love her even more now," I said dramatically. "I'm falling in love."

She chuckled and looked down to me with her gorgeous green eyes. "Not too much, I hope," she joked. "That's me, idiot."

Oh, if only she knew.

I played along. "I already love you, Alycia, what do you mean?"

She rolled her eyes playfully as I laughed. I'd be lying if I said I didn't notice the faint pink blush warming up her cheeks.

The 100 night was practically a tradition for us now, even when certain things interrupted it for us. For instance, when I happen to have an out-of-the-blue date.

"So she's from your class? And she just asked you on a date?" Alycia asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," I confirmed for the tenth time as I pulled a bunch of clothes out of my wardrobe. "Is it so hard to believe, Aly?"

She smiled with embarrassment. "No, of course not, that's not what I meant–"

"I'm kidding," I cut her off from a probable never-ending ramble. "Now can you help me find an outfit, please? Or I will be tempted to go in my pyjamas."

She nodded and helped me dress up appropriately for my date. I wasn't even sure I like liked this girl, but she'd asked me out and I have a hard time saying no. Besides, what could possibly go wrong from me saying no? I might end up liking it.

"Remember, record The 100 and we're gonna watch it together when I get back," I told Alycia as I opened the front door.

She bit her lip. "What if you come back late?"

I gave her a knowing look. "Let's be honest, Aly. I'm probably gonna come back before the date is even finished."

An adorable smile fell upon her lips as she nodded. "Okay... have fun, Y/N. Call me if you need anything."

I winked. "You got it, Commander."

She rolled her eyes and practically shoved me out the door. "You really need to stop calling me that."

I laughed and waved goodbye as she shut the door. I realised as I was making my outside that I wasn't up to actually going out on a date with someone – I'd rather be sat on the couch watching TV with Alycia.

"She doesn't like you like that," I told myself quietly. I needed to get over my crush on Alycia and try to put myself out there. Maybe this date with Jasmine wouldn't be so bad...

I ended up completing my date with Jasmine. The two of us had a great time, but we agreed that there wasn't really anything between us but friendship. We discovered that pretty early, which meant the rest of our date was more of a hangout, but it was still fun.

I was glad to be returning home to Alycia to watch The 100. As I opened the front door, I saw her chilling on the couch with a blanket covering her. When she saw me, her expression lit up.

"Hey!" she greeted as I approached her. "How was the date?"

I flopped onto the couch beside her and got comfortable under the blanket.

"Good," I nodded, "but we agreed to just be friends. There wasn't really much there but friendship."

I wondered if I had imagined Alycia's shoulders relaxing when I revealed this.

"Sorry," she said, offering a small smile.

I shrugged. "It's okay, I'm not bothered. I do want to watch The 100 though, so if you don't mind..."

She chuckled and put it on for me before grabbing her book again. I sat comfortably as I watched the episode. Halfway in however, there was a part where Lexa and Clarke were having some sort of argument in Lexa's tent. Next thing I knew, Lexa had kissed Clarke.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," I repeated, eyes glued to the screen. Never in a million years would I have imagined Alycia (who I was 99.9% sure was straight) kissing another girl, acting or not.

"Oh, Y/N," Alycia chastised playfully, shaking her head.

"This is something I can ship," I spoke my thoughts aloud, before dropping my jaw when Clarke pushed Lexa away. After telling Lexa she wasn't ready, she left the tent making me point at the screen with disbelief. "Seriously? This hot piece of ass kissed you and you leave?!"

"Y/N!" Alycia laughed, hitting me on the leg.

"What? I know I'm your friend, but that doesn't mean I can't admit that you're a hot piece of ass, Alycia."

She rolled her eyes, but stayed silent with embarrassment.

Feeling like I'd given too much of my crush on her away in such a short amount of time, I tried to push the topic away from me.

"How was it kissing Eliza Taylor? She's so hot so it must have been awesome."

Alycia's cheeks heated up as she chuckled awkwardly.

"Never mind, Leashy, sorry," I apologised with a laugh.

"Eliza is a good friend of mine, so it was a little weird," she admitted, avoiding my eyes as a flustered smile stayed present on her lips. "It worked though, so yeah."

I grinned at how cute she was. Yeah, maybe I never had a chance with her, but that didn't mean I couldn't imagine kissing her for myself. Was that weird? Probably. But I liked her so much and something told me this crush would be hard to kick away.

I tried, I honestly did. And I was sure I was concealing my feelings well enough to be considered nothing more than 'friends'.

There was a time when Alycia, Laura and I went for a day out, shopping and just hanging out. It was fun and I kept my feelings in check. I was sure I was getting over her, to an extent.

This time out was the first time Alycia was actually stopped in the streets for the recognition of her character, Lexa. It was adorable, meeting a fan that admired Alycia and her portrayal of such an important character. I knew that if Alycia hadn't moved in with me when she did, I'd probably be a fan, too. Heck, I was now, friend or not. She was that good.

After shopping for many, many hours, the three of us decided to stop off at the beach for an hour or so. Not to swim and play in, of course, but just to sit on the sand and chat.

As we parked our car and headed into the sand, I looked to Alycia.

"You're from Australia, right?" She gave me a knowing look. "I mean, you're from Australia, so, like, shouldn't you be tanned?"

Laura laughed from beside me whilst Alycia breathed out slowly and shoved me in the shoulder.

"What! It's a valid question!" I defended with a laugh.

"Her favourite question," Laura said with a humoured expression. "I asked her the exact same thing when we first met."

"So has everyone else I've ever spoken to," Alycia added sourly, making me laugh. "Can't a girl just be pale and not get questioned?"

I continued to laugh with Laura as Alycia pouted adorably. The three of us settled on the sand, sitting together and chatting about anything. We went through our purchases and Laura and I teased Alycia some more which was always fun. We were having a great time and the three of us took a selfie to which I posted on my Instagram. It didn't take long for my notifications to flood with The 100 and Lexa fans.

"Wow, you're very popular on here, Aly," I said with a chuckle, reading through some of the comments on my post. "A lot of thirst lesbians are heading your way because of this Lexa role you've got."

Laura laughed as Alycia took my phone to read some of the comments for herself. She smiled with amusement as she kept on scrolling. She handed me back my phone as she leaned back onto her elbows.

"Don't worry," I reassured her with a cheeky smile. "Only one thirsty lesbian has your heart."

Laura burst into laughter at my comment as the tip of Alycia's went red with embarrassment. Mere teasing, nothing more. Friends could do that!

I was sure I was getting over Alycia, despite the occasional bursts of feels I would get when she did something cute. That was just my gay self getting speechless because of a cute girl, not a crush. I was sure of it. Well, I was until...

"This is so good," Alycia said with her mouth half full of food.

We were at the diner I worked at, eating lunch. She'd been busy with some press and interviews this past week for The 100 whilst I had been busy with lectures and work. This was her first free moment all week and she was spending it with me on my lunch break, hanging out.

"I'll give the chef your compliments," I said with an amused smile.

We enjoyed the half an hour I had before it was unfortunately time for me to return to my shift. I would have much rather stayed there with Alycia.

"I'll see you back at home," I told her as we both stood up from our booth.

"Okay."

She smiled and leaned in to hug me. As she pulled away, she slowed down and kept her arms around my shoulders. I was going to question if she needed anything else, but was cut off when she leaned forward and pressed her lips against mine.

As soon as she kissed me, she pulled back, startled by her own actions, as was I. She kissed me.

"Uh... bye!" she blurted out before turning around and leaving.

I opened my mouth to call her back and say something, but nothing came out. I was too shocked to do anything because I couldn't grasp the fact that Alycia had actually kissed me!

"Hey," I heard my boss approach me. "I didn't know you and Alycia were a couple now. Congrats!"

Still dazed, I watched the spot where she was once stood. "We're not."

My boss merely laughed and patted me on the back before walking away. I was frozen for a second, before turning to clear our table. Still, I couldn't forget the feeling of Alycia's soft lips pressed against mine. It was quick, but it happened.

She kissed me.

***

Returning home after my shift had me feeling extremely nervous. I was unsure what would happen between Alycia and I. Did she like me? As in more than friends? Would she tell me that?

The thoughts were chewing away at me as I unlocked my front door. When I clicked it shut and dropped my keys on the small table beside the door, I saw her sat on the couch watching TV. When she saw me, she perked up and stood up nervously.

"Uh, hey," I greeted first.

She nodded. "Erm, hi."

I waited for her to say something else, but she didn't. I scratched the back of my neck as I looked to the floor awkwardly.

"You kissed me," I said, looking up to meet her nervous, fluttering eyes.

She licked her lips. "Yeah... I did."

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"I should have asked," she blurted out. I shot her a confused look to which she added, "To kiss you. I should have asked. I shouldn't have just kissed you."

My heart was racing. "You should have asked?"

She stepped forward, moving closer to me. "Can I kiss you?"

My mouth felt dry. "Y-you want to kiss me?"

She moved even closer, leaving a small gap between us. Her eyes flickered down to my lips and she hovered, awaiting my permission. I hadn't realised how desperate I was to kiss her, properly, until faced with the decision

"Yes."

She wasted no time closing the gap between us and my breath hitched in my throat as her lips moved against mine. I let my hands fall to her hips as she let hers get tangled in my hair. I tasted her lime-flavoured lip balm as my lips trapped her bottom lip between mine.

We had to break apart for air sooner than I liked, and when we did, I was trapped in her green-grey eyes. I didn't know what she was thinking.

"I tried not to like you like this," she suddenly spoke, her voice soft. "I didn't want to ruin our friendship. But I can't help it, Y/N. I really like you."

I widened my eyes, never believing I'd hear her say these words to me.

"I like you, too," I admitted, and felt a load off my chest as I did. "I have done for a long time now, Aly."

Her beautiful smile graced her lips as she looked down bashfully.

"Do you maybe wanna be my girlfriend?" I asked hopefully.

She looked back up and nodded. "I'd love to."

We both had the same idea and met in the middle, sharing a kiss to seal the deal. I was too excited though, and my smile broke the kiss. She mirrored my expression and that's when I realised just how lucky I truly was.

[crazymarvelsuperfamily]

Hi! I honestly love all the work you've posted so far and honestly enjoy how you portray Peter's relationships with the Avengers. I was also wondering, how would Peter introduce his friend, a nonbinary trans hero, to his adoptive family?

I present to you this:(which is written with a mother of all headaches from concussion so please don’t @ me…) much love, Ren x

To Peter, MJ was more than just a friend. They were a complete, utter, total, God-send. While Peter had his Spidey-sense, MJ had their common-sense – and a knack for stopping Peter from causing a disaster everywhere he went. The whole of the team had always been super supportive of Peter, and always wanted to know how he was, and whether he’d had a good day at school. And Nat had always been keen to meet Peter’s friends. Ned, Peter’s “guy in the chair”, had met Tony at first by accident. He happened to stop by to show Peter a new lego set, while Stark was at the apartment, “enjoying” a slice of May’s date loaf. Once his “fan-girling”, had at last subsided, and Tony managed to get some coherent sentences out of him, Ned was immediately accepted into Peter’s rather crazy, and slightly dysfunctional family. It didn’t take him long before he was joining the team for movie nights, press conferences, and even sleeping over with Peter. 

Nat noticed pretty quickly, that a certain MJ repeatedly appeared in stories told by both Ned and Peter, and was intrigued to meet… well, she wasn’t really sure if MJ was a he or a her… But what she did know, is that he/she (?) was a definite member of they boys’ friend circle, especially after Ned referred to them all as “the three musketeers.” She tried to gently prompt Peter to bring MJ home repeatedly, but Peter for some reason always got rather defensive. Nat assumed MJ was a crush or something, but not wanting to upset Peter, she let things slide.

It wasn’t that Peter was ashamed to have a non-binary friend, hell, if MJ was a fucking giraffe he’d still be thankful for just how amazing they were. It was just, he was hesitant for them to meet his family. Steve and Bucky were from the 40s – Peter wasn’t even sure if they knew that there are more than two genders. Nat had always seemed pretty uptight, Bruce was a fan of the awkward “when you get a girlfriend….” – always assuming Peter was straight, and well, although Tony was an obvious chaotic bisexual, Peter couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t act adversely to the prospect of Peter having a non-binary friend. So, the team remained in the dark about MJ, and eventually, Peter had thought that they would have forgotten about them, after almost 3 months without a mention.

Tony was just waiting for the last few parcels of presents to be delivered. Peter’s 16th had to be special. He had spoken to the boy on numerous occasions, and he was adamant that he did not want a massive party, “no Tony, not even if you booked AC/DC.” So, he had finally managed to settle on a pretty small occasion. The whole team was coming over (plus Clint’s family) and May and Ned. They were just going to have a fairly quiet evening and spend some time together. That was when Tony remembered Peter had a friend… was it MJ?? Somewhere in his database, he found Ned’s number, and sent him a text, asking him to invite MJ. The reply he got was hopeful, but not definite, about the appearance of this secret friend at the party. 

Peter had had a pretty crap day. If it wasn’t for the massive flashing 16 badge pinned to his blazer, no one would have known it was his birthday. Not with 4 pop quizzes in 5 classes, and two essays set – oh yeah, and the group project with Flash. He had missed the bus that morning, and there was a heavy downpour, so to top the day off, he had spent it walking around in sodden sneakers. His hopes were lifted slightly, at the sight of the sleek black Bentley parked directly in front of the school gates, but neither Happy nor Tony were sitting waiting for him, so he miserably made his way to the bus stop. He was almost at his stop, when he got a brief text from Happy inviting him to the tower, so he impatiently sat through the further 45 minutes of his journey. But barely five seconds later, his phone powered off. Shme, some birthday Peter muttered under his breath.

By the time he arrived at the tower, he was borderline fuming, in desperate need of a change of clothes, and completely not down to spend the evening in the lab with Tony. He’d bet all $30 from May that Tony had forgotten the date anyway. “Peter Parker.” He growled into the microphone.“Insufficient authentication. Registered voice required.” FRIDAY replied distantly.“FRIDAY, what the hell? You know its me. Let me in already.”“Sorry, Mr Parker, the protocols boss set do not permit your entrance unless you use the correct voice activation.”“Peter?” He tried to ask chirpily, hoping that he would be allowed in.“Incorrect.”“spiderman”“incorrect”“Spiderling”“incorrect.”“Crime-Fighting-Spider”“incorrect”“Spider-Boy”“incorrect”“Underoos”“incorrect”“Spider-Guy on YouTube”“incorrect”Peter rolled his eyes. Tony had threatened to change his name the other day when Peter drank the last of the milk straight from the carton. “Little Bastard in Red Tights”“Welcome, Little Bastard in Red Tights.” FRIDAY almost sang, as the elevator doors slid open and took him up to the Common Floor.

When the doors opened again, revealing a tidied room, lined with balloons. Food was spread out across the table, and an extremely huge pile of presents took up a large amount of floor space. From out of every corner of the room, The Avengers sprung, each with a party hat and one of those cheap horn things. A smile instantly broke on his face as he scanned the room – everyone was there – the whole team – Laura and the kids, Ned, May, MJ… wait, MJ? Peter double took. They stood right in the middle, having popped up from behind a couch. They waved at Peter, revealing their graphic T-shirt that read “They/them pronouns, get over yourself. I’m valid.”

Steve was surprised when he met MJ, not because they were non-binary, but because Peter was scared to introduce them to him. And he suspected that he and Bucky were the ones that caused Peter to be hesitant about introducing MJ to the team. Sure, he was from the 40s, but that didn’t mean he held their values. Heck, he’d been in a relationship with Bucky since not long after the Accords. Besides, times had changed in 70 years – understandment of gender wasn’t at all what it used to be. Steve couldn’t care less who MJ identified as, as long as they were a good friend to Peter. And, in the short hour between MJ and Ned arriving at the tower in the Bentley, and Peter turning up soaking wet from walking (God, Tony needs to give the kid a break – and a towel…) MJ appeared to be one of the best friends Peter could possibly have. They were quick, witty, and super intelligent, but most importantly, they were sensible – and Peter needed nothing more than a sensible friend.

That evening made Peter’s birthday the best one ever – even with the awful day he had had. For once, Tony had actually listened to him, and didn’t throw the biggest party of the year – instead, he had a movie night with the people he was closest to. They watched Empire Strikes back, Peter’s favourite film of all time, and ate more pop corn than anyone of them would care to admit. Peter sat in the middle of the long sofa with his legs curled under a blanket. May sat to one side of him leaning onto his shoulder, and to the other, MJ slumped with a large bag of chocolate. It was late before everyone left (except for May, who had to excuse herself early for an emergency shift, asking Tony if it was alright for Peter to stay over – which it obviously was) MJs father collected them and Ned, Laura – who was invited to stay over, started the drive home with the kids and Clint. Then slowly, the rest of The Avengers dispersed and left for their own floor. By the end of the credits scene, only Peter and Tony remained in the room. “Hey Pete?”“yeah Mr Stark.”“Happy Birthday.”“Not any more Mr Stark – my birthday was over an hour ago.”“It is if you’re in Malibu.”“But we aren’t?” Peter yawned.“Not right now, but I thought a part of your birthday present could be a trip to the mansion with your friends.”Peter’s eyes lit up, “really?!”“Yeah kid.” Tony replied softly, ruffling Peter’s soft curls as he walked past him. “I’ve already spoken to Ned and MJ’s parents, and they’re down for it.”“MJ too?” Peter asked.“Yeah – they’re one of your best friends, aren’t they?” Tony asked, slightly nervously.“Obviously – I was just worried to introduce them to you – you know, with being non-binary…”“Peter,” Tony said seriously, looking the boy in the eyes, “don’t you ever feel afraid to introduce anyone to me or to the rest of the team. I will gladly support you and your friends, and so will the rest of the team, unless they want an iron fist to answer to. That is, as long as you don’t bring home that God awful Wade Wilson.”

[attackofthezee]

STUCKY REC LIST 10/6/18

I realized it’s been a bit since I did a rec list! I link to fics I’ve read and enjoyed over the week in my weekly writing round ups, but I don’t tag those posts as fic recs (it feels a little too self promoting to tag something about my own writing with fic recs, I can’t seem to do it) soooo I feel like it doesn’t count. So here, have a list of fics I highkey recommend right now. They’re all beautiful majestic fics and everyone should read them.

The Heart of a Dying Star by layersofart (layersofsilence), velleities

As ancient legends have it, mighty magical weapons can be forged in the heart of a dying star.

Wanda, driven by her desire to avenge her brother’s death and backed by Hydra and their secret plans, uses ancient magic to knock a star down from the sky.

Halfway across the land, Steve, the Captain of the Avengers Guard, finds a fallen star named Bucky.

Do you want to feel like you’re reading a fairy tale? Because like, this fic feels straight up like reading a fairy tale. It’s wonderful and soft and also like vaguely a Stardust AU while not actually being a Stardust AU and tbh it’s wonderful, just wonderful. Go read it and fall in love with Star!Bucky and total sweetheart Steve Rogers just like I did.

Howitzer by spacebuck

Bucky Barnes, figure skating champion, is forced to switch his skates for hockey ones when he leaves for college. Problem is, he's never played hockey before, and now he has to be good enough to get the scholarship he needs. Enter Steve Rogers, Carter University Men's Hockey player, who's decided that he'd do anything to get this guy on his team.

Cue five am runs, overwhelming classes, new friends, plenty of snow, and a sport that's fast becoming a way of life.

This fic has been on my To-Read List for approximately six thousand years, and part of me regrets not reading it sooner while the other is really glad I waited because I was reading it while having a rough week and guys, it was like the cure to my overdramatic issues that week. I like hockey a decent amount because it’s dudes being mildly homoerotic on ice and I find nothing bad about that, but I don’t really know about hockey, y’know? And after reading this I felt like I knew about hockey, which was a pretty fantastic experience tbh. I haven’t felt that feel since my fave fic back in Bandom days left me super interested in rugby for a while. Also the relationship between Steve and Bucky in this is fucking beautiful, and the descriptions of the games left me feeling incredibly invested in them and the author deserves literally all the love for that.

What's left behind by Niitza

The thing was, after waking up in that new century, that strange future where nothing and no one was the same, not even himself, it had never occurred to Steve to wonder again if the effects of the serum were permanent.

Catch me outside perpetually screaming about this fic. It’s told in chunks of 200 words and while I found myself inevitably wanting more of every chunk it also worked so well for this fic and is also something I admire because while I believe in brevity, I also have absolutely zero self control and if a scene wanted to be 500 words I’d end up writing 500 words. It’s just, it’s SO GOOD, and if you’re like, super bad at focusing like I am the way it’s told is a surefire way of catching attention and sucking in. It’s just really beautiful and wonderful and I recommend that you don’t take my word for it and go read it to find out for yourself.

Keep the Torch Lit by thepartyresponsible

“Logan,” Charles says, delicately. “Do you know the whereabouts of the Winter Soldier?”

“Nope,” Logan lies, easy as anything. “Haven’t heard a damn thing, Chuck.”

“Logan,” Charles says, “have you forgotten I’m a telepath?”

“Well,” Logan says, a little less pleasantly, “I sure forgot you’re a Goddamn nosy son of a bitch.”

Listen, okay, this fic is not Stucky, at least not technically. Technically it’s Logan/Bucky with past Steve/Bucky but like even the Logan/Bucky isn’t really the focus and if you want to (like me) it’s definitely possible to read future Stucky into this fic. also this is my rec list and I do what I want ya’ll. The focus on this isn’t the shipping, and tbh that’s what makes it so glorious. The focus is on the goddamn glorious motherfuckin Wolverine, aka the love of my life since I was a wee lass watching the x-men animated series back in the 90s and falling facefirst into simultaneous crushes on both Logan and Rogue. Biromanticism ya’ll, it started early. This fic is hysterical. Logan’s voice is so spot on and so very LOGAN that every line manages to be grumpy and hysterical and also reveal that hidden layer of just caring too much that I really believe is like, the true hallmark of a well written Logan. He doesn’t want to care, but he does care, and that’s like the crux of all his issues y’know? That’s why he takes in asshole super soldier assassins that half the world is after when they give the shitty reason of ‘war buddies, you gotta.’  

I could write several paragraphs on my epic love for this fic but I feel like the biggest reason to read it that I can give is that I’ve now read it three times and as a person who barely ever reads things even twice, that’s a huge thing for me. Also it has an appearance of a Charles who’s kinda a dick and tbh that’s how I love my Charles.

ALL OF THAT BEING SAID, if you can stand Bucky being even hinted at being with someone other than Steve, and if you don’t for some strange reason hate Wolverine (which if you do, who hurt you????) then go read this fic. It’s 4400 words of fucking brilliance.

Baby You Should Stick Around by neenya, nephropsis

If somebody had told Steve he and Bucky would end up raising Bucky's clone as their son, he'd probably have- wait, no, he wouldn't have done anything, because nobody would ever have said that.

And yet. Here they are.

Listen, this is one of those fics that I opened up expecting something fun and lighthearted and y’know, just a normal kidfic. What I got was 33k of a seriously beautifully written fic that gave me some seriously intense feelings. It was not what I expected whatsoever and it was all the better for that. I, personally, need to occasionally open up something I don’t expect to make me feel and then experience all the feelings because I am in the words of my former therapist ‘a shaken up soda bottle, building up pressure and just waiting to explode.’ True story. MY PERSONAL ISSUES ASIDE, this is beautiful and sad at times but with like, a really wonderful ending that made me feel A LOT OF THINGS. (The point of this is that this fic made me feel a lot of things. Like just, a lot of things. So many things) And there is this certain quality to the writing, at least to me, that really lets you feel the fact that Steve is having Issues and Steve is not realizing these Issues, and because of that he’s not able to be entirely present in this life that he has with Bucky. It’s wonderfully unique, and wonderfully written, and while not one I can reread super often (because of those aforementioned FEELINGS) it is seriously such a quality piece of work and one I’d somehow never stumbled upon despite it being written four years ago.

Black Dog by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen)

So long ago the details were lost to time, people began creating guardians of the dead. They were made from dogs, dogs who were buried in graveyards before anyone was laid to rest, their spirits arising as black dogs, bound protectors of the human dead.

Steve had always wondered what would happen after he died. He hadn't expected the answer to be 'wake up in the cemetery he'd been buried in', but here he was, some kind of ghost, and he could see the trees through his hands. It wasn't so bad, and he wasn't alone—a sleek black dog, golden eyes glowing bright, was happily waiting to greet him.

Decades later, on what was supposed to be a quiet, peaceful, definitely-not-life-changing walk through the woods, Bucky stumbled across an abandoned cemetery and into the impossible.

(It's a ghost story and a love story and a story about dogs.)

I’ve talked about my love for absolutely everything leveragehunters writes, I know I have, but oh my god, Black Dog hits it out of the goddamn park. There’s A GOOD DOG! AND STEVE IS A GOOD DOG EVEN THOUGH HE’S NOT REALLY A DOG! And Laika! I GENUINELY CRIED OVER LAIKA!  And I DON’T OFTEN CRY OVER FICS!! I just, this was so beautiful and there’s always something so special about leveragehunters’ world building in their urban fantasy and magical realism fics in that it never feels heavy handed, never feels like I’m getting a bunch of info dumped on my head, but I always leave the fic feeling like I’ve seen this brand new world and understood it in the way the characters do even if that world is just a little bit left of the one we’re in now.

Also this is just a really good, nice fic to read while curled up with one’s dogs so y’know, if you’ve got dogs, definitely have them nearby to love on while you read this. It makes the experience like 1000x better.

despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained) by praximeter (Zimario)

“They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips.

Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions—

“Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.”

Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”

Picture me screaming like a pterodactyl every time I even think of this fic. I kept seeing this fic, kept seeing it recced everywhere, kept scrolling by, kept seeing it recced by people who’s work I love and read and admire, and KEPT SCROLLING. And then finally, finally I decided to devote myself to 70k of what I assumed would be a lot of emotional pain. I was right. This was painful to read, the parts in Bucky’s pov especially so, but it was also so, so, sooo very good. I found myself clicking to the next chapter as quickly as I could and wanting to sink right back into it if I had to go do something. It’s just, it’s so good, and if by some chance you haven’t read it yet do yourself a favor and don’t be like me and keep scrolling past it.

[fereality-indy]

Wendip Week Day Two - Typical Pines Luck

I went a different direction with this story. 

Gravity Falls High School

Friday October 10th, 2014

 Man, the first couple of weeks here at Gravity Falls High have been fun. I’ve been able to spend a good amount of time with Wendy and the gang. I’ve got homeroom (English Lit) and lunch with Mabel, Biology with Wendy and Candy,  Creative Writing with Pacifica, Lee, and Tambry, French with Wendy and Grenda, Calc 2 with Wendy and Tambry, and Cooking with Grenda. Wendy, Nate, and Pacifica are in the same lunch as Mabel and I. That leaves me with one class where I really don’t know anyone, Conditioning. Being on the track team I felt I needed to take a athletics class to keep my stamina up during the off season.

The only down side is I seem to have attracted to attention of Allan Weems, one of the muscle heads who plays tackle for the Gravity Falls Grizzlies. At six foot two and approximately three hundred pounds of muscle, his size really is all he has going for him. The nose ring he wears outside of football games only adds to the reason he’s nicknamed Bull, mostly he has it cause he’s about as bright as one. He’s not an actual Gravity Falls resident, he comes from one of the little towns that are still in the county but lay just outside the valley. Hirschburg or Ritterton maybe.

 “Alright guys, you have ten minutes till the bell. Get in there and get clean. I don’t want any complaints from the other teachers.” Coach Doherty said after he blew his whistle to signal the end of the class.

 I stayed back as the rest of the guys headed into the locker. After I was certain that everyone should be mostly in the showers I head in and quickly get out of my gym clothes. Wrapping my self in my towel I head to the shower stalls and grab the first empty one. When I was done I dried off and rushed out to get dressed. Unfortunately Allan was waiting on me. Even worse, we were the last ones in the locker room.

 “So Dipwad, how’s my favorite tackling dummy?” he asked as he held something behind his back, as I got closer I realized it was my gym shirt and he had wrapped it tightly around his fist, “You know what, I really don’t care.”

 Before I knew what was happening he stepped close and punched me twice in the stomach. As I gasped for air he dropped my shirt over my head and started walking away.

When he got to the door he looked back and said “Well this was fun, let’s do it again tomorrow.”

 After catching my breath, I got dressed just as the bell sounded. Walking out of the locker I found Coach Doherty waiting on me.

 “You ok, Pines? Mr. Weems told me as he left that he thought he heard you trip on something as he left the locker room.” He asked as h saw me exit.

 Just my luck, Allan gave the Coach an explanation for why I took so long. Not really wanting to press the issue I said, “Eh, I just stubbed my toe is all Coach.”

 “Well I hope you didn’t break it. From everything I’ve seen so for I‘m looking forward to seeing you on the track this year.” He said as I headed towards the door.

 I stopped at my locker and traded out my morning books for the ones I’ll need after lunch.

 “Hey broseph, ready for the Friday meatloaf?” Mabel asks as she opened her locker. She had art the period before and still had some paint on the back of her hand.

 “I guess, it can’t be any worse than Stan’s mystery meat surprise.” I replied still holding my sore stomach.  

 We got our food and headed towards the table that Nate had grabbed. We were the last ones there as Wendy and Pacifica were already eating.

 As Mabel sat down she turned to Pacifica and said, “Oh man, Paz.  Did you hear what happened today in the Candy’s gym class? Apparently there was a big fight between two of her classmates.”

 “Yeah, I heard. Apparently Jimmy Holman found out that Marion Albert, his girlfriend, was seeing Aaron Holtz on the side. He just walked up to Aaron and punched him, ended up taking half the class to separate them. Someone said it looked like Aaron’s nose looked broken.” Pacifica said as she sort of picked through the food on her tray. She’s told me that she no longer cared about her food meeting a four star rating but she still was leery of school cafeteria food. Welcome to the club princess.

 “That’s what Candy said too. Though she said it looked like Aaron actually threw the first punch.” Mabel said around a spoonful of mashed potatoes.

 “Eh, either way they both got suspended.” Pacifica said just before it seems like hunger won out and she took a bite of the meatloaf.

 That there was one of the reasons I just took the punches earlier and didn’t fight back. Heck. He didn’t hit anywhere near as bad as Rumble, so there’s that also. But there is a reason that is even more important to me.

 “God, I hate it when guys fight like that.” Wendy said after she swallowed her bite of meatloaf. “This could have easily been handled by talking. And they’re fighting each other and are either wondering what her opinion of the situation is, I mean maybe she didn’t think they were exclusive.”

 And there is the most important reason I didn’t fight back. Wendy dislikes guys fighting.  And after we lost Robbie, I realized  just how short life can be and I decided I would follow my own advice from a couple of years ago and strive to be someone worthy of her love. That doesn’t mean I’m changing anything about me, it just means that I’m gonna improve the me that I already am. Oh shoot, Mabel is talking to me.

 “Huh?” was all I was able to get out as a response.

 “I asked if you were gonna finish that?” Mabel said pointing towards my less than half eaten tray and more specifically the chocolate pudding.

 “Oh, yeah. Here you go, take what you want.” I say as I slide the tray over to her.

 “Hey  Dip, you still coming over to work on Calc and Biology homework?” Wendy asked after Mabel snagged the last half of my meatloaf and the pudding.

 “Sure, I’ve even got The Monster Of The Cape to bring over to watch if we have time afterwards.” I say with a smile.

 "Sweet. We’ll have to rush through the homework then.” Wendy says with a smirk.

 The rest of the day went by like normal and soon Mabel and I were back at the house dad found on the outskirts of downtown.  I took a moment to look over Mabel’s homework while she got ready for a night with the gals. Pacifica, Candy, Grenda, and surprisingly Tambry are all gonna be there. I think Mabel is wanting to plan the baby shower.

 After I was done, her work was on par for her which means she’ll get a b plus at least, I grabbed my bag, the DVD, and a microwave burrito. I was just heading to the front door when my phone went off.

 “Hey there.” I said as I heard Wendy’s voice on the other end, “Yeah, I was just heading out. You’re where?”  

 I heard a knock echo through the phone and from the front door. When I opened the door there she stood.

 “Well since you’re ready I may as well come pick you up.” She said as a greeting.

 "I was gonna walk, but a ride with my best friend does sound great.” I said as I walked out the door. Once I was out I noticed something, her truck wasn’t there. Turning to her I asked, “Ok, if you’re giving me a ride where’s your truck.”

 “It never really was mine, Dad was just letting me use it. Marcus just got his license so dad is letting him use it now.” Wendy said as she shut the door and started heading towards the street.

 “Ok, if you don’t have the truck how are we getting to your house?” I asked looking around as I followed her, thinking that maybe she had borrowed the Mystery cart from Soos or something.

 “Well you see, when I got home Uncle Randy and his son Seth were there. At first I was afraid they were there cause dad was making plans to send me up to the logging camp next summer. But no, they were there to give me an early birthday and graduation present.” She said as we got to the sidewalk. We headed past our driveway when we stopped in front of a charcoal grey van. “Here she is, a seventy-nine WV Uberkreuzung Microbus. It was my Grandpa’s, then Randy’s, and now its mine.”

 “Cool,” I said as she unlocked the door. I hopped in as she ran around to the driver’s side. I unlocked her door for her and she climbed on in.

 “We need to stop and grab some snacks but then back to my place to study.” Wendy said as she turned the key.    

 We sopped at the store and picked up a couple bags of chips, a bag of puffed corn, and a case of Pitt. After that it was a quick drive and we made it back to her place. The homework was done in less than ten minutes and that was with me going over the definitions of an infinite series and partial sums twice to make sure she got them. But really the homework is just an excuse we use to hang out anyways. We then cracked open the snacks and tossed the DVD into her player. She then plopped down on her stomach while I leaned back on a backrest pillow I had bought and left here last year just for movie nights. Grabbing a handful of puffcorn settled in for a marathon of jokes about the quality (or lack of it) of the special effects.

 “Ok, that suit doesn’t even have matching seams. I meant look you can see the actors neck right there.” she called out as the ‘monster’ chase a hapless co-ed through a dock of fishing boats.

 “Ok, there are several potential weapons on those boats. I mean I see a spear gun laying on the deck of that one.  Why don’t she go for one. Or maybe even just get on one of the boats and hide in it’s cabin.” I added after I had taken a swig of Pitt.

 “They probably didn’t get permission from any of the boat owners. Hell I would be surprised that they permission to even film on the dock.” She said as she playfully swatted my stomach. Unfortunately I was still tender and I winced at the contact. Now Wendy is definitely no dummy and noticed something was wrong. “You ok, Dip? I barely touched you there.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” I said as I tried to play it off. I did not want her worrying about me getting into a fight or worse her getting in trouble fighting him in my place.

 “Dip. We’ve been friends for a couple of years now, I know when you’re lying man.” She said as propped herself up with her right arm before sitting to look at me better. “And if it’s something that you feel like you have to lie to me, then I know it’s gotta be something big. You don’t lie to me. So what is it?”

 “It’s nothing.” I said as I tried to withdraw from her gaze.

 Not buying it she said, “Nope, something is wrong. Luckily for me I have learned of a weakness in your armor from Mabel for just this occasion.”

 Before I knew what was happening she was on me and began tickling me. She started under my arms but quickly worked down my sides. I started laughing and as my diaphragm contracted during a particularly loud laugh I again grimaced.        

 Seeing that she grabbed the edge of my shirt and lifted it. I hadn’t seen it myself yet, it looked like him wrapping his hand didn’t do much towards preventing a bruise from forming.

 “Dude, what the hell?” She yelled as she got a good look at it. “Who did this? Tell me and I’ll beat the crap out of them!”

 “That’s why I was hiding it, I don’t want you getting in trouble on account of me. Principal Reeves has been doing nothing but praising the turnaround you have made in the last couple of years and I don’t want to ruin that on my account.” I said as I tried to pull my shirt back down to cover it back up.

 She let go of my shirt and sat back up,  pulled her legs under her, and then leaned against the wall behind her. When was done she asked, “Please tell me you at least gave it to them as good as you got?”

 “No,” I said not looking her in the face.

 “Wait a minute.” Was her response. She followed up with, “What? Why?”

 “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine” I said almost feeling like I was twelve again.

 “Nope, I’m gonna worry about you man.” She said with a look of genuine concern, “Now why didn’t you fight back? Whoever did this couldn’t be worse than those two gnomes that found the growth crystals back in June. We kicked their tails.”

 I mumbled something barely audible.

 “What was that?” she asked as she leaned closer to me.

 “You don’t like guys fighting.” I repeated at a volume that she could hear.

 I started to get up before I felt her hand on my shoulder. She pulled me back down and turned me so I was facing her in one turn. “Yeah, I hate guys fighting for stupid reasons. Defending yourself is never a stupid reason.”

 She pulled me into a hug, “Dude, I want you to be safe. But next time this guy does something, defend yourself. I mean why else was Stan giving you and Mabel boxing lessons.”

 As I pulled back I got lost in her eyes again, they were so full of worry for me. A part of me wondered if there was something else there too.

 “I will.” I finally said as I realized how long I had been staring turning my head I saw that the movie was over. Looking down at my watch I said, “Man, I gotta get going. Mom and Dad want me home for dinner. Tell you what, keep the DVD here and we can watch it next time.”      

 I leaned forward and gave her another hug.

 When I let go Wendy said, “Do you really have to go. I was hoping we could get in another movie at least.”

 “Yeah, unfortunately the rents aren’t as forgiving as Stan is for coming home late.” I said as I gathered up my school books.

 “You want a ride back?” she asked as she slid off the front of her bed and turned off her tv.

 “Yeah, thanks.” I replied as I zipped up my backpack. “You’re working tomorrow, right?”

 “Sure, maybe we can hang after work tomorrow.” She said as we headed out of room.

 Mystery Shack

Saturday October 11th, 2014

 Well today has mostly been about organizing displays and placing some in mothballs till next spring. Soos did take one group out on a tour and should be back sometime soon, but really the season is over. I mean we may get some to come through for Halloween, but this is Oregon tourist season is over.

 I was dusting some souvenirs when I felt a large hand on my shoulder and heard a voice I was not wanting to hear, “Why Dipwad, what a pleasant surprise.”  

 He roughly turned me around and pushed me up against the shelves. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Wendy look like she was about to jump the counter. I waved her off just as he continued, "Well I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. I mean a freak like you must fit right in with all of this junk.”  

 “Now you can call me names, but you best not insult the Shack.” I said as I for once push him back.

 It doesn’t move him much but it does seem to phase him. It seemed to crack his veneer of superiority, but he seemed to recover his bravado quickly. Glaring down at me he said, “Whatchu gonna do about it. The only good things in this pig sty is red over there and that cute lil sister of yours. Where did she go anyways, she was here when I got here. “

 “That’s it. Step outside.” I say as I once again pushed him. This time it moved him enough that I was able to start heading towards the door. Wendy was staring daggers at him as I neared. In a whisper I ask, “Is he coming?”

“On your six, but he just started moving.” she responded her gaze softening as she turned it towards me. “Is he the one?”

 “Yeah. There’s gonna be a fight, I’m not sure you’re gonna want to see this.” I said as I reached the door.

 She pulled a ‘closed for break’ sign out from under the counter and set it in front of the register. “I’m not gonna miss this.”  

 I found out later that she had pulled out her phone and sent a group text to Mabel, Soos, and the rest of the gang that read ‘Dipper about to confront a bully outside of Shack, fight probable’.

 As I made it outside I headed towards the grassy area south of the parking lot. Mabel was running out from behind the Shack carrying a stack of signs, the visible one read ‘Round One’. She made it over to where I was about the time Bull got out of the front door. He was followed shortly by Wendy.

 “So you’re fighting Bull. Man, what an idiot.” Mabel said as she saw who I was looking at. Realizing that what she said could have sounded like she was calling me the idiot, she clarified “Not you, him. It takes him forever to get something through his thick skull. He most have asked me out at least twice a week since school started and I’ve turned him down every time.”

 “Oh there she is.” Bull said as he realized Mabel had joined me, “Hey there cutie. How about after I beat the snot out of your brother, you n me go to Hermanos Brothers for a tray of tacos?”

 “Kick him where the sun don’t shine, broseph.” Mabel said as she backed away and headed towards Wendy.

About that time Soos showed up with his tour group. I recognized three other members of the football team and a guy that looked like he could be Bull’s dad.

 “This him?” I heard the older guy ask.

 “Yep, he’s my project this year. He’s got all the basics; weird name, class geek, smaller than me, crush on a girl out of his league, you know the works.” Bull said as he looked at his dad. And with that what hope I had that his dad would help out faded. At least it looked like he had shocked and maybe disgusted his fellow team members, “He's a push over. He hasn’t even complained yet.”

 “Then why is he fighting you now?” I heard his dad ask.

 “Oh, he’s just trying to show off for Red there.” Bull said throwing his thumb in Wendy’s direction. It was a good thing that Mabel was there to hold Wendy back or I may not even got a chance to have this fight.

 “Well he at least has some good taste.” Bull’s dad said as he took a look at Wendy, “And if looks could kill, you’d be dead son. I wonder if he isn’t reaching to far there. You ever try for her?”

 "Oh hell no dad, she’s a Corduroy. The whole family plays with axes like they were toys. That’s a crazy I’m not touching. She’s the one that dislocated Lorenzo's shoulder last year when he tried to cop a feel.” Bull said as he grimaced remembering the incident, “Now Dipwad here won’t last five minutes. He’s a wuss.”

 “You’re right, he isn’t much to look at. We’ll see how he is doing after this fight, maybe we can use him as a janitor at the farm.” His dad said almost pushing bull towards me. “Enough talking, go get him.”

 As he got closer I held my hands up and said, “Before we start I have to warn you I have a purple belt…”

 Before I could finish he rushed at me yelling, “I don’t care, we’re here to fight not talk fashion.”

 I side stepped him and brought my hand down across the back of his head, smacking him. This did nothing more than anger him, good an angry opponent is a sloppy opponent.

 We threw punches back and forth for a moment. I did my best to remember what my teachers’ taught me and kept my guard up to deflect most of his blows, all the while ensuring I landed mine. He still got me a couple times and I am gonna be sore tomorrow. Finally I got an opening. He threw a wild punch that I deflected, as soon as I did I brought my right knee up straight into his gut. After that connected, as he went backwards I snapped my right foot out and connected to his jaw. He fell flat.    

 “Do you give?” I asked as he went to get up.

 There was still fire in his eyes as he stood. He rushed towards me with murderous intent. I reached out and grabbed his collar, put my left foot into his stomach, and rolled backwards flipping him in the process. I gained my footing first and as he tried to rise I brought my left foot down on the back of his head knocking him flat. When he didn’t try to rise again I reached down and felt for a breath and checked his pulse.

 "You lil son of a…” His dad yelled as he tried to get to me, only to be stopped by the other members of his sons football team.

 “Just grab Allan and go Mr. Weems,” said the one I now remember is named Frank, I think he's in French with me. “And tell Allan not to bother showing up at the game tomorrow. We’re gonna report that he admitted to the bullying to Coach. He has a zero tolerance policy.”  

 “And we’ll just deny it, it’ll be your word against ours.” Mr. Weems said as he started towards his son.

 “Probably not dood, I’ve got like the whole thing recorded on my phone. Including everything you and sleeping beauty said.” Soos called from where he was standing with his phone aimed at Mr. Weems.  

 Wendy and Mabel rushed over to me as Mr. Weems gathered his son as he came to and got him to their truck.

 “That was great man, I knew you had it in you.” Wendy said as they both hugged me.

 “Way to go bro, glad to see the classes finally are paying off.” Mabel added.

 “Alright, not so tight you two.” I said as I winced from how sore I was now that the fight was over.

 Wendy remembered my bruised midsection and released quickly before asking Mabel, “Classes? I wouldn’t really call those boxing lessons Stan gave you and Dipper classes.”

 “Not those, but Dip did use some of those techniques today. I’m talking our kickboxing classes. We’ve been going since we were ten, but Dip here didn’t take them serious until we got back from that first summer. That’s why he only has his purple belt, I’ve got my brown belt.” Mabel replied as she backed off and got into a fighting stance.

 “Oh, so that's what you were trying to tell him.” Wendy said as she brought her arm up and settled it down on my shoulder. “I thought you were just trying to confuse him.”

 “It wasn’t my intention but it did seem to work out that way.” I said as I try to head towards the Shack, the next thing he knows he is being hoisted up on a uneven pair of shoulders as Wendy and Soos carry him towards the Shack. It seemed Mabel was already sharing the video Soos had taken with the rest of the gang who hadn’t made it to the fight. I wouldn’t be surprised if I hear from the Stans before the Weekend is over about it, too.  

 “Thanks guys but really, I’m good. I just want to get some ice on my lip and jaw and, if it’s alright with you Soos, find somewhere to collapse. The adrenaline is wearing off and I am sore.” I said as we got to the porch.

 As they sat me down on my feet Soos said, “Oh, sure dood. Go ahead and take the rest of the day off. You’ve earned it.”

 After a look from Melody, which carried some sort of mental message that married people seem able to do (I’ll have to investigate that later), Soos added “Hey Wendy, you have the most knowledge out of us when it comes to first aid, why don’t you take the rest of the day off too and take care of the Dipster.”  

“Oh yeah, Wends. I’ll cover for you if needed.” I heard come back from wherever Mabel was at.  

 “You don’t have to tell me twice. Sit right here and rest Dip, I’ll go grab the ice and then we can go back to my place and try to watch that movie again.” Wendy said as she help me to the chair Soos had placed by the gift shop’s entrance. Then she ran on into the shack.

 “You can thank me and Melody later dawg.” Soos said before he and Melody entered the Shack. And believe me I did.  

[castlepinesmusic]

Proletariat Punk Rock

Punk Rock Proletariat

A Modern Music Manifesto

We use it everyday,  consciously or not, you are absorbing it like air in a restaurant or coffee shop.    In our times of grieving and drinking ourselves to sleep it is there. When we wake up and rub the boogers from our eyelids we use it with a cup of coffee to invigorate us. 

We use it when we have dinner, when we have sex, when we attend sporting events, when we graduate from high school, when we learn to drive, when we kiss our first time, when we are withered and gray and draw a final, shallow breath it is there. Film and movies, all the things we use to distract us from the realities of life would not be the same without it.  

It is music. 

Music is a conundrum for me to think about.  It is one of the greatest joys of my life (apart from my wife) and music is also one of the greatest so-called thorns or banes in my side.  Why?

To jump into its creation is to wade into the deep.  It is dauntingly massive and too much collective knowledge to understand every facet in one life time. 

To record it, to make it a tangible thing with 0’s and 1’s in the digital realm and to share the product of hours of anxious creation to the world is another difficult task. Thats why we are here.  To create and leave a legacy. But why I am currently writing this is another matter entirely.  

We as consumers, western or non-western, affluent or poor, need a better understanding of the model of music consumption that we presently face.  For an artisanal craft, usually passed down from sage to student throughout its course of history, Music has been devalued, defaced and devoid of any commercial value or integrity for more than 99% of those that create it.  We bastardized  one of the most beautiful of human creations. Millennia of culture, folk lore and traditions have become the plastic bullshit bargain bin “throw away”, one and done, mass produced flavors of the week.  And I am calling it out.  We need to be better.  

We will be better.  

Much like the food industry complex, we spend and consume, waste and throw away without knowing the painstaking process of creation.  The growth from the seed in the dirty earth, cultivated to become a singular tomato for us to scoff at its flavor.  

Music is this exactly.  

Years of tribulation, tumult and doubt of whether or not we will harvest.  For those of you who are music creators, you know exactly of what I speak of, time seemingly wasted in a vacuous industry where only Drake and corporate controlled radio stations shovel their sonic fodder with monstrous finance budgets.  The independent artist is a drop of sand in the swirling sea of constant consumption.  This leaves the humble, working musician distraught and disappointed, angry at the status quo and at the constructs of which their precious art is lost in the digital void of oblivion.

Even when the musician or collective manages to birth an album or song, there are mavens, gatekeepers and tastemakers who have the pseudo”final say” as to what is good.  The blogs, the critics, those that judge from their screens, another hurdle to pass on an unmapped road to reaching your audience.  We actually made a video for our new song “Woo Hoo” that brings light to this very issue.  We took all the negative reviews and petty comments from blogs and record labels and slapped them on some footage from our friend Are Jay.

 Watch it here:

https://youtu.be/pFju7IXsXII 

 It is how we consume, how we interact with Music.  I am not calling out all users of whichever poison they picked, whatever platform suited your fancy be it Spotify, Google Play, Apple Music, Soundcloud etc.  There are those that are active seekers in the endless noise.  But it is the majority, the groupthink mentality of glazing over the details and not engaging with the art they are consuming.  It is a tired argument “Spotify only pays 0.0001 per play!”  This is the current climate and technology the masses use to listen, and instead of griping about it, lets use the advantages of its convenience as an asset.  Don’t believe the tired “Rock Star” American Dream Story of rags-to-riches from yesteryear. That age is dead, and we live in the working class musicians era, where we have the tools and the means to create our own history, our own legacies.  

I started recording music, not knowing what I was doing with my friend Blake Miller when I was 22 in a garage littered with stale beer and cigarette ash.  I saw Wilco and Radiohead in concert at Golden Gate Park, and the muse of inspiration lit inside me and I wanted to make an audience encounter the same things I felt when I was stoned in a large crowd. Ten years have passed since then, after forming a band called Castle Pines with my friends, playing greasy dive-bars and recording several albums, I have the memory and legacy of these moments embedded in me.  A much different reward than I thought I would obtain when I was a young, dumb 20-something.

I went through homeless years, living out of my car years, drunk years, years with court cases, assaulted years, meandering years of self doubt and whatever meaningless office art thats says “Discovery” years.  And throughout these years I had the comfort of faith and music.  I have seen the transition from buying albums and music in person at a record store to the digital streaming model, and although they are very different, the latter can still hold value and provide somewhat of a living for the millions of creators that can’t turn a buck. 

 How do we consume music ethically and consciously?

3  Rules:

Rule # 1: if you appreciate the art, show gratitude to the artist. 

As self-serving and indulgent as it sounds, the common trope and meme of “artists need to eat too!” is true.  If you can, buy the song or the album.  If you can’t share it.  We are constantly engaged in the dribbling faucet of social media, so share the music, how it effected you, how it made you feel a certain way at a certain time.  Share the emotions a song illicit in your everyday, and this is an invaluable and free method of support.  We live in this weird period, where the most popular music being consumed is being infiltrated by corporations where it is repackaged and sold in the vein of authenticity.  You need a lot of money to turn a head, and financing to get attention.  This is the arms race for “Cool”, the stock market of social transactions peddling less than desirable lifestyles to the youth and the world. 

The popular green, sustainability movement of eating and shopping locally should be applied here.  The rise of the microbrew beer and etsy shop, handmade craft should be a lesson we use in listening.  Listen small.  Listen to the handcrafted and the workers.  

Rule #2, stray off the beaten path. 

This is one is hard because it asks something of the audience.  You skip the lines and fervor of the industry giants if you do a minimum amount of research and discover.  Whatever you use to listen, dig deeper and find something new, it could be the best song you’ve ever heard by a band that you’ve never heard of. 

Rule #3, Know what you like and grow it. 

I don’t know if it political divisiveness, social constructs of genre affiliation or what, but I do know that EVERY single genre, style and practice has VALUE.  We can go into how rock and roll, Hip-hop and mainly Black American artists formed the modern musical language and how we don’t appreciate or know where it comes from.  But all we need to do is “Anthony Bourdain” it, try a new dish, or flavor or something you are scared of.  Only listen to Rap and R&B?  Put some Black Metal on and listen to it without prejudgement or preconceived notions on what it should be. And vice versa, whatever genre you are stuck in, break out of it and try something completely new.  You are doing an injustice to yourself by going to the same party everyday.  Your music tastes are a combination of that nature nurture thing, your environment, what mom would play when you were still in the belly and what you heard at junior high dances. 

  Grow your musical genre vocabulary. 

I see so many artists, creators and musicians get discouraged or feel downtrodden, and I hope this brought some levity and lightness to your struggle and journey.  We are all in this together.  

 Our next song “Swim Team Sucker” drops Friday, September 14.   Pre-save it here:

https://distrokid.com/hyperfollow/castlepines/etyX

 Thank you for all of your support, and remember

Castle Pines is for life homies.

#CPporVida

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