#like i had a shitty fucking teenagehood

[atypi-cals]

you know we hear a lot from the "high school was the worst time of my life. Im so glad im free and never have to go there again" crowd but where's the "fucckkkkk I miss going to high-school" crowd

[missingexaltation]

(Mini little fic idea, post Vecna)

Eddie wanted Steve and Wayne to get on, and at first, he was utterly ecstatic when they did.

But Steve starts to come over to watch various sports games, laughing and jostling with Wayne on the couch whenever one of their teams wins a point, or scores a goal or whatever, Eddie starts feeling inadequate and useless.

He watches from a distance, too wary to approach, too scared of upsetting the equilibrium. After all he's spent years rolling his eyes and grumbling about football and baseball and basketball to take a seat next to them now. He's more than made his bed now, years of sulky teenagehood in the making. It's not their fault, he knows. It's all his own, a drama of his own creation.

He watches as Wayne laughs and jokes, haphazardly waving his beer and cackling with delight, with the sort of son that he deserves. A son that brings calmness and stability instead of late night police escorts and a mountain of medical bills.

The empty, cavernous hole in his chest aches as he sits there (pretending to work on his campaign), through game after game, match after match. Wayne had given up so much for him. He could have had a family of his own, instead of raising his brother's useless, wretched kid. He could have gotten married, had a real home and an easy life. A beautiful, doting wife to give him the world.

Instead, Wayne had been cursed with a fuck up for a nephew, a shitty fold up bed in a shitty trailer and a job that was ageing him before his time. A vexing, frustration of a life that he didn't deserve. That Eddie had made worse by default.

Eddie knew he was selfish, and loud, and easily excitable and distracted. That he was used to getting his own way in these walls, barely noticing and sacrificing a thing while Wayne quietly suffered instead. It had been the same for his parents. They'd wanted a normal kid too, but even his dad's temper hadn't been enough to dampen his ability to irritate.

He'd tried to be quieter for Wayne in the past. Better behaved, his personality crammed into a tiny internal box to make himself more palatable, easier to love and want around. But Wayne had been offended by it. Claimed Eddie shouldn't have to change himself for anyone, not even his guardian, to be honest with who he is.

But looking over at them now, Eddie felt like he should have tried harder. Sure, 'being himself' was the fucking care bear motto spat out by well meaning adults trying to convince the weird kids they'd be ok. But he could have tried harder not to be so difficult, he could have watched Wayne's sports games with him and graduated high school and handed over his earnings instead of buying dumb shit.

The gnawing, desolate guilt consumed him. Steve was sweet, charming and polite, a parents dream (also...absolutely fucking gorgeous and the best sex Eddie had ever had, but that was besides the point). He could understand why Wayne has found it easy to befriend him, hell Eddie unquestionably loved the bones of him, but it put in sharp relief how Eddie just didn't measure up to the barest minimum standard, let alone what his uncle deserved.

So instead, he started taking on extra shifts at work, pulling as many as he could so that he could try and convince Wayne to drop his hours and start taking it easy. He kept the house tidy and even helped nurture the blossoming little something that was growing between Wayne and Claudia, spending more nights with Steve so that they could canoodle out of sight of Dustin's sullen glares.

He was exhausted, but it was worth it to see Wayne less on edge, back on the day shift since Eddie was finally picking up the slack. Now he had time for 'guy nights' with Steve, expanding to include Sinclair and the newly resurrected Chief Hop too.

"You're a good kid, Ed." Wayne told him one evening, and despite everything, Eddie was unprepared for the avalanche of emotions that it unlocked.

I'm not, I'm not, I'm not.

His brain chanted, automatically.

But I want to be.

[out-ofhell]

hey look, it’s damien skylar! he’s twenty-four years old, he’s lived in shrike heights for two weeks, and he’s currently working at a new chapter. i heard he’s pretty standoffish, but i think he’s so smart at the same time. can he make it out alive?

name: damien skylar age: 24 star sign: scorpio

(( tw: foster system, implied neglect/abuse ))

damien skylar was forgotten from the start.

most of what he claims to know about his early life is made up: he was born to a hollywood starlet, but there was scandal, and he was given up to avoid the press hounding him his whole life. or he was born to poor coal miners in pennsylvania who couldn't care for him properly. the details are hazy, and he's been through too many social workers, wandered from state to state, so that his file in the system got fucked up before he had even turned ten.

too many foster homes to count — or perhaps he cares too little to count.

a boyhood filled with misbehaving, with acting out to get attention, with learning the worst things he could do, always toeing the line, always pushing people away. never getting — never accepting — what he wanted, which was love.

his moods blew with the wind as he turned towards teenagehood, and then adulthood. it was no surprise to anyone that he aged out of the system, never having known stability and telling himself he didn't care for it. at 18 he left his final foster home for the local community college. he finished a degree but never spent more than three semesters in any one place, transferring schools until he got a degree in the only thing he'd ever cared about: books. a bachelor's in literature wouldn't serve him well, he knew, but he had never been one for practicality.

romantic flings came and went but his favorite characters were always within the cracked spine of a book, there to return to. he found echoes of his own passions and rages within heathcliff, his desire for grandiosity within gatsby, his sense of living outside of time within orlando. the classics called to him more than anything else, and he'd gladly agree that he's a literary snob, though there are some contemporary writers he admires — Toni Morrison, James Baldwin, Don Delillo. if he's honest with himself, he'll admit that he wants to be like them someday, publishing books. but his own inability to focus on any one project stands in the way of that.

after graduating college, he moved around. he hated florida so he tried new york. hated that even more and made his way to texas. texas, he didn't mind so much, and it was there that he first heard about shrike heights and particularly the string of strange murders happening at the local mall. following a shitty breakup (which he does not want to talk about), he followed the news to colorado.

hey, maybe if he's lucky, he'll meet an untimely end — just like all of his favorite characters.

hey look, it’s avalon rivera! she’s thirty-five years old, she’s lived in shrike heights for thirty-five years, and she’s currently working at karaoke dokie. i heard she’s pretty pessimistic, but i think she’s resourceful at the same time. can she make it out alive?

name: avalon rivera age: 35 star sign: virgo

(( tw: death ))

"avalon's always been a bit strange" — words used by her mother to explain away her fascinations with the dead, dark spaces, horror movies. "all things creepy crawly," her big sister would say, prom queen of 1972 and won't let anyone forget it. rachel had no dreams beyond that crown being placed on her head, and that was her big problem. for avalon, her dreams were always her favorite part of the night.

never much of a people-person and not desiring to become one, avalon's father always understood her best. angel was not a popular man in town, not like avalon's mother and sister. he was a misfit just like ava herself, and when there's a pair of misfits, well, they're hardly misfits at all, are they? the two of them had a fascination with last words, with the things people said as they were dying, often poetic, sometimes funny, sometimes just sad. avalon couldn't tell which type she liked the best.

it was a freak accident. a sudden one. an icy patch of road. dark — past midnight. the motorcycle had no hope of making it, and angel had no chance of survival. dead on impact. this was what the coroner said in an attempt to console the family, though these words have been rattling around in ava's head ever since she heard them.

"dead on impact."

"dead on impact."

what a way to go. no time to think, no time to do anything. no final thoughts at all, and perhaps worst of all: no last words, at least not that anyone would ever know of.

this was two years ago, and while before that, she had held a steady job, climbing up to management at the movie theater, a job she actually enjoyed — she'd lost it in the aftermath of angel's death, and she hasn't been able to hold down a job since. whatever it is, she makes it only about 3 months before saying something she shouldn't to a customer, a coworker, sassing the wrong person at the wrong time, showing up late, not showing up at all. she's thirty-fucking-five and while she went from a steady job and a girlfriend she loved, she's now lost all of that.

this job at the karaoke place — fucking gag her — is a last resort. if this one doesn't last, she's not sure what she'll do. it's not much of a life, but hey, at least she hasn't yet been killed.

[starkerhead]

First Lines Tag Game

Rules: List the first lines of the last 10 fics/drabbles you published (or all your fics if you have less than 10). Look to see any patterns you notice yourself, and see if anyone else notices any. Then tag some friends.

Tagged by @snowstark, thanks luv, this was fun :)  Tagging anyone who wants to do it <3

1/ Cookie Dough “Whatcha got there, Petey pie?” 

Peter smiled as Tony’s arms snaked around his waist from behind, his chin resting on Peter’s shoulder. 

2/ Scaredy Cat It was a dark and stormy night. 

Really, it was, and Tony and Peter had decided to spend it by watching shitty 1-star Halloween movies. 

3/ A Lil’ Bit of Sugar “Aren’t you guys a little old to be trick or treating?”

“It’s called ���rebelling against social norms’,” MJ explained. “We’re protesting against the notion that childhood ends at the cusp of teenagehood, which punishes teens for indulging in any kind of innocent fun.” 

The man at the doorstep stared at her incredulously, then glanced at Ned and Peter, who were behind her. All three were clad in costume, holding pumpkin-shaped candy buckets like they were five and not fifteen. 

4/ Favor from a Stranger Peter was alone. 

He crossed his arms over his chest, shivering as pelts of rain assaulted his body. 

5/ Demon of the Night The demon comes to Peter every night. 

It comes when the moon is hanging high in the sky, when his parents are fast asleep. 

They tell him he’s just imagining it, that monsters aren’t real.

But he can feel it. A dark presence looming over him, watching him sleep. 

6/ Power and Control Tony Stark was possibly the most despicable man Peter had ever known. 

Peter looked up from his desk to glare at the man in question, who was sitting at the front of the classroom, grading papers.

7/ Rich Daddy Fucks Brunette Twink with Aunt Nearby “Kid, I’m sorry, but I can’t renew your internship if you don’t get your grades up.”

Tony laid a hand on Peter’s upper back, looking at him over his tinted sunglasses. Peter’s bottom lip quivered, his eyes widening.

“No, please, Mr. Stark, I’ll do anything! Please don’t take away my internship. Aunt May will kill me.”

8/ A Questionable Fashion Choice Tony would be lying if he said it was the first time he’d had impure thoughts about his nephew.

But really, who could blame him? The boy in question was sitting there in booty shorts, his balls basically hanging out in the open.

Patterns: usually starts with a line of dialogue or a line that would hook people in I guess? 

[glutenfree-rootbeer]

How do people that arnt liked fully accept it? How do they get to the confident, alone position, where its okay that no one understands you quite right.

While growing up of course I accepted that some people are just not going to like me and thats okay. But these days I feel I have very little and im just not sure how to be okay with the fact that no one really likes me outside of my family(even then) and my partner.

I truly have tried to look at myself and the way I treat people and ive tried different things to fix how I am. But to no avail.

My partner just says im unapologetically myself and thats a good thing. My very very distant friends just say im too judgmental.

Bitchy people have friends, why cant I? Like what is wrong with me. It must be worse or something else must add on. I must really make people feel terrible or anxious or idk I cant figure out... anything. Im so frustrated.

And then I fully get in my head about it and im so angry with it, It makes me feel like im not ready to have friendships. Like maybe I just need to be alone. Maybe I have too. Eventually like, eventually, this overwhelms my partner too, right? Because he has plenty of friends and I just cant even get through a conversation with one of them without putting my foot in my mouth. Plus with no other outlets (besides this dumb website) to talk about my feelings, ill just overwhelm him at one point. I wouldnt want to be with me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I think the worst part is my mom is so uncomfortably off-putting. She has very few friends and most people that meet her are mean with her so shes mean back. Because her ultimate ‘first impression’ demeanor is ‘demanding independent boss lady’. My whole life has been me cringing at the cash register as a small child because I could tell my mom was completely offending the service worker. My mom would leave saying ‘wow they were so nice’, shes just brute and rough. I spent my whole teenager life rebelling and fighting that similarity until one day in my early 20s I realized I need to accept that I will be similar to the woman I am genetically related to. She doesnt even speak with my grandmother anymore because they offended eachother all their lives, they just stopped talking at one point. I try so hard to steer my speech and actions in a more positive direction. But at the end of the day, my personality still mostly sucks. And I cant tell if trying to fix it, is only making it suck more. I just want to go back to being on xanax and not caring anymore. I want to not focus on everything/everyone in the room, wondering how uncomfortable everyone could possibly be by something im doing. I want to meet people who I feel like accept me and understand me the way I did when I found my group of friends in highschool. We were just a bunch of fucking loser weird nerd kids that had shitty families that huddled together in the misery of teenagehood.

Im just so frustrated and sad. Idk and I have no motivation to try new things and start hobbies so thats a whole other thing but how do I expect to even meet anyone? I get anxiety leaving my own house like really?! Lol fuck me

[ziracona]

Anytime I see the legion im picturing urs so now in a trial im like "fukn idiot loser babies" *pallet smacks*. Reading ur meta(is that the term??) on Julie just now I'm like. So mad for her!! Get them kids some therapy!! How could the adults in their lives let them get to such a shitty point.. >:( Also, another thought I had with Adiris. The buzzfeed video is more her holding a bunch of cats. Because the survivors are like herding cats. Chaos children they are (im looking at you meg.)

Hahdjsdk god what a mood. Every time I see an Anna I’m just like “!!! MOM?” And get a hatchet between the eyes rip. And yeah! Meta is right.

For real, for real. Julie and all the Legion kids had some real shit going on. Joey by far had the best home life and family, but even he had a bunch of struggles in school because his family didn’t have time or in many cases experience to help him study, and it was crowded and poor, and because he had no help most kids got, he got treated like he was stupider, and even when he had skills in other areas, everyone at school expected him to perform well at sports and not much else like that was fine & he was meant to be valuable exclusively as an athlete, when he much preferred and actually really liked things like shop and ceramics and building/making stuff. But most people treat trade classes like easy As dumb kids pick (back when shop was still a thing), and like it was a worthless skill, and like. That doesn’t sound as bad as like, being bounced through foster homes as Frank, but pain is relative, you know? Bad is just bad. And things grind on you. It was hard to be taught constantly he was only worth something as a skill he didn’t even really care about, and get treated like he was dumb just because he had less help built in to school than most kids there did. People don’t talk about this much but like, having parents or sibs who help with homework? It’s a huge factor. So is just having family who are college graduates (if you go to college), because first gen student means walking in blind & alone & accountable to no one but bills, and like, college is initially overwhelming with two parents with Masters who are helpful. Any time what you value about you and what you love doesn’t match up with what people who have more power than you tell you is valuable about you/should be your goal, it’s hard. Especially as a teen still trying to like hack out an identity. Overly enthusiastic and impulsive, and has been mocked and hurt and turned on for it, but can’t shut it off. Big heart, but the luck to stand up usually just in time to get laid flat again.

And then Susie, with the parents who don’t care for her or pay her much mind other than disappointed looks and an occasional snap or suggestion or urging to try something different that what she’s doing. Bullied for her sexuality, nervous, and in a small town in the late 90s, probably the only lesbian (at least that she’s aware of existing) in that entire like couple hundred people mountain town, and sort of unbearably alone and misunderstood and isolated feeling. God, feeling like there’s just no one like you are out there is one of the worst feelings, isn’t it? Buried in the things she knows people whisper about her and a thousand tiny microinteractions a day that drain her armor. Loves Julie, but is so isolated Julie is her entire world to an unhealthy, co-dependant, and worryingly usable/manipulatable and non-independent nature for Susie. Because she’s so desperate to keep her she’d do anything not to be alone. But the struggle to never be alone by chasing Julie’s shadow means there’s no time for Susie and her own hopes and dreams and choices and developing personhood. But the worst part is that she’s genuinely happy this way, trailing after the girl she loves, which makes it so hard for either of them to confront and stop even enough to just make it healthy again. But she’s built her whole identity on one person like a precarious janga tower that could fall any second if the wrong piece goes, and that can’t be sustained forever, and who is she when it does crumble?

Then you got Julie, hot, popular, ignored personality disorder, proud parents who want her to keep being ideal and their little princess, than can’t handle her as a teen when she’s not in the box they expected anymore and they can’t just live and be proud vicariously through her all the time. Hit puberty early & dated way too physically way too young with way too much older men. Hit on by teachers, by men three times her age in parking lots. Quickly taught it’s safer to say yes than no and sex and love are a battlefield where you use the other as a stepping stone & the trick is to manurver so you’re okay once it’s over and got something while it went on. Had fun being hot and physically developed young because she suddenly had admirers and people were nice, then realized way too late that it came with constantly being in danger and under pressure to keep performing sexiness, and there wasn’t a livable choice to back out and fail those expectations anymore & be okay in her social circles. Knows she’s not emotional or loving in the way her loved ones are distressed about it, but can’t tell why, and gives up trying to ‘fix it’ and just pretends she doesn’t care and leans into being the sexy bitch and the power that comes with it. Doesn’t even know who she is herself beneath any of the ways she lives anymore, maybe she just is the act, maybe that’s fine. Trusts no one and that’s fine it’s just smart. Caught between liking the power of sex and intelligence and coldness, and the emptiness of not really being somebody. Needs to be loved and idolised and eternally aware how much people would hate her for that if they knew it was the truth, so she just keeps it to herself and makes herself someone they have no choice but to love and adore, so it’ll all be okay. Caught between worried she is cold and unfeeling and selfish and proud, and liking the power that goes with that, and the lack of desire to change, and the fear she doesn’t know how to do it. So she mostly just doesn’t think about any of the turmoil anymore and lives Julie instead of being her.

Then you got Frank, tossed around a myriad of foster homes, stolen by the government from the only one he ever was loved in over race, abused in every way foster parents have learned to abuse the kids they were supposed to love, and convinced since he was a kid that he’s a bad seed and a monster at heart, until he leaned into the violence of that to protect himself when no one else did. Harsh and strong and a fighter, a survivor, lonely and a loner, too much past, no future, not much present. Angry, god, so angry, and nothing to do with it. No skills, or money, or future, or any of it. No love, no family. Just the things he taught himself to survive. Just a good liar, a good fighter, adaptable, fast, tactical, enduring. Knows how to pick locks and lift wallets and hoard food that is least likely to be noticed. How to vanish, how to look real scary and real big, how to get stabbed and get back up, and take a fall, and bide his time. How to find north. Which makes for a good what? A thug, a conman, a drug runner, a loan shark or a hitter or a bouncer maybe? A guard, a killer, a thief? No love, no ties, no one. And only a borrowed, angry, violent sense of self, and all the other versions that didn’t live to adulthood but aren’t quiet dead yet buried beneath it.

God, the opening line to the original lore for Darkness Among Us really was beautiful and memorable. The kind of first line you hope for. “Frank Morrison was ninteen, and had little to show for it.” Like, fuck. It’s so understated, and common, and painfully mundane, but that’s it, that’s his whole life. And how fucking painful that is. To be the end of teenagehood, stepping into adult life alone, and be able to be summed up in just eleven words, as a marker of your lived timespan up to now, and the annotation that you from all of it have gained almost nothing that could be worth any note. I fucking love that line. God. It’s so empty, and cruelly mundane and undramatic and unimportantly scored and marked, like it doesn’t even matter that he’s down nearly two decades of life with nothing worth taking into the next two.

Lord, all the Legion kids really do need help, and therapy, and like, one decent parental figure. Thank god for Jeff. He really is out here doing the real work. Love that man. TuT

And you’re right w Adiris lol. 🤣 It’s a mix of cats and dogs, magbe even. Some of them aren’t trouble, but oh, oh some most definitely are. Side note: I fkn just reallly love cats. Poor Adiris out here tryin her best, and I’m sure she does too.

[hysteriium]

The Irony of Fate [2]

Gif not mine! 

(A/N): Uhhh this gif kills me holy fuck LOOK AT HIM- UGH. OK, SORRY this took so long lmao, my writing has honestly been so slow lately. I’m trying to fix that but idk I guess it’s a work in process. ALSO!!!! I’m so GRATEFUL for y’all! You’ve all been so kind and supportive with the series, I honestly thought I was going to be swamped with hate! I’m really glad you’re all enjoying it, and love Arthur as much as I do. It’s really made me feel better about my shitty writing. So without further ado, I’ll let you read. Sorry for the monster essay! 

Summary: Arthur hated his life. That was no secret. He could pull out a list of the reasons why if someone had to ask. Perhaps he had pissed off fate really badly, a time he couldn’t seem to recall. Or perhaps, not that he believed in it, in a past life he had behaved so reprehensively that he was cursed for the entirety of his reincarnated existence. At this point, anything would make more sense than his continual bad luck - make more sense than his life. Was he doomed to be miserable for the rest of his time on earth? Or would the woman he spotted from his window instigate a rapid spiral of change?

Word Count: 3,400

Pairing: Arthur Fleck x Reader

Warnings: None! 

!! SPOILERS FOR ANYONE WHO HASN’T WATCHED THE MOVIE !! 

Anxiety coursed through (Y/n) like a turbulent storm, its rage coursing throughout her body, numbing her fingertips. Her mouth was abnormally dry and her attempts at swallowing - to try and lessen the prominence of the drought within, were all in vain. Counting down the seconds in her head silently, her jaw ticked. Large multicoloured drapes burned into her eyes, their bright colours harsh if looked at for too long. As she stood behind them, backstage, the familiar, upbeat music filled her ears, a tune she had known since teenagehood. In person, the arrangement of instruments beyond the curtains sounded different. It was raw. Loud. Unfiltered. The difference was something she found she prefered, it’s authenticity shining through. 

Despite the nostalgia, and the thrill of her dreams coming true, the song was hardly comforting, adding to the growing nausea in her stomach. Solidifying the presence of the knot within.  

The fact she was there was surreal. 

The crowd, in response to the anthem, went wild, clapping on cue, along with the song.

“Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen!” Murray shouted. His renowned dance moves, which had him swinging to the beat, were perfectly timed. 

Although (Y/n) was shrouded by the massive curtains in front of her, she could practically hear the smirk on his face. Sickly sweet and, dare she say, sickly fake. While she was eternally grateful to be where she was, the disingenuity unsettled her. It rubbed her the wrong way. 

Good ratings meant more money, and more money meant fewer problems. 

“Now, tonight, we’ve got an extra special guest,” he said.

(Y/n) swallowed.

She felt her fingers twitch in anticipation while the majority of the public oohed at Murray’s news.

“She’s a gorgeous woman…” a handful whistled, earning a soft chuckle from the host, “though I must say, she has an even lovelier voice.”

“It’s quite funny actually, I met her on the street the other day. I was blown away when I first heard her performing. And...I usually don’t do this, but I just had to have her on the show. You all know how much I love talent.” 

“However, there was just one thing that left me confused. I asked her, ‘why on the streets?’” Murray gave a quizzical look, “with such a gift, you’d expect her to be in the clubs!” 

“She shrugged her shoulders and told me, ‘you gotta start somewhere’.” 

“Now while I respect that, starting from humble beginnings and all, I told her, ‘honey with a face like that, you don’t gotta go around singing on the streets for money,’ if you know what I mean.” 

The spectators laughed, and (Y/n) rolled her eyes in response. Suddenly, she was glad she was hidden. She wouldn’t want her annoyed expression to give the wrong impression. She didn’t want to be labelled. The last thing she needed was to wake up and read some shitty news article painting her as a ‘diva’ and ‘ungrateful’. Gotham thrived on negativity, so once that was out there, she’d never recover from the defaming blow. Sexist jokes or not, fighting up against one of the most dominant television personalities in Gotham, as well as the media, was a deathwish careerwise. 

“Now that’s enough from me, you’re all probably sick of my face. Please welcome, (Y/n)!” 

Swiftly, the live band played their tunes, signalling her entrance. Murray directed attention to the infamous curtains, his arms stretching, his fingers wiggling towards the material. Screams of joy echoed off the studio walls.

At the sound, her hands raced to her form-fitting black dress, smoothing out the wrinkles before the curtain opened. When they did, they were slow. A cringe formed its way onto her face as the pully system squeaked along. As ready as she’ll ever be, she cemented a smile, hiding the wince, and walked through the drapes, deciding against waiting. 

Feeling a little dramatic, her form hunched over into a bow. A leg darted behind the other, with one hand in front, another resting against her back. Wolf whistles decorated the air at her arrival, though they were promptly replaced with roaring laughter as she made her way towards Murray and planted two firm kisses on both of his cheeks. Eventually, the clacking of her heels signified movement from the older man as she moved to occupy the yellow chair next to Murray’s desk.

Murray made a face after her display of affection, a look although (Y/n) couldn’t see, with his back towards her, she knew it transpired because of the public’s response. She could only imagine the face: one of shock and surprise, or perhaps confidence, as he winked towards them. Either way, both weren’t hard to envision, and the thought made short, distinct, puffs of air release from her nose in amusement.  

Shortly, he followed her lead and took a seat behind his table. 

“You’ve got some flare kid,” Murray chuckled, and (Y/n) could tell a genuine smile had replaced the false one. A twinge of pride wriggled in her chest at the realisation. 

“Are you nervous?” Murray asked suddenly, his eyes flying to the hands in her lap, fidgeting, “you seem nervous.” 

She shot the audience a look, her teeth clenched as her eyebrows flew up. 

“Yeah,” was all she said, her tone coming out high and unsure. 

Laughter. 

“You’re already doing great. This your first time on live television?”  

The reminder that this was live exacerbated her anxiety, her leg threatening to bounce. The pressure was on; if she screwed up, everyone would remember. 

“Pretty much,” a hint of fear wavered her voice, and the laugh that followed was shaky, “this is really surreal.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he flicked his wrist at her, “it’ll be second nature the way you’re headed.”

Her hands flew up to her cheeks, a tinge of pink coating the area while she tittered, “thank you, but I’m not so sure of that.”

“So humble!” 

Murray adjusted himself in his chair, his leg crossing over his other. He leaned forward towards the singer, form angled away from the onlookers. His concentration was solely on her.  

“So (Y/n), what have you got planned for us tonight?” 

A diffident expression crossed the woman’s features as she recalled her song.

“One of my favourites. Put On a Happy Face by Tony Bennett.” 

Murray nodded.

“Interesting choice. But, a classic.” 

His formerly interlocked hands were thrown into the air, giving a signal to the band. At this, (Y/n) stood up from her seat, and headed towards the already arranged set up towards the end of the stage. Once she arrived, she gripped the cylindrical microphone with both hands, its body supported by a stand. The object was cool against her heated fingertips.

The music started, the funk infectious and the woman’s hips began to sway.

---- 

Arthur barely held the gasp within him when he gazed upon (Y/n) ’s form, her flattering black dress a spectacle to behold. Her bow, cute and pure, converted the gasp he was restraining into a lovestruck sigh. 

He was sold, struck by the arrow of the little rascal Cupid himself. 

She looked just as good on TV.

He found it endearing how honest she was, admitting to her nerves. In his eyes, she was genuine, not like the scum that riddled Gotham’s streets; not like those who laughed at him; not like Randall. 

Similar to a child who was urgent to take in his favourite cartoon, he moved himself closer to the screen, a meter away at best, as he sat cross-legged. The tickling sensation of excitement shot throughout his slender body. 

As the music started playing, the overly happy tune seized him. When the camera panned on (Y/n) ’s walking form, he took in every little detail. The sigh she let out when she reached the microphone. The wobbling of her hands, which she tried to hide by clutching the device. The movement of her throat, suggesting a swallow. The jaw that clicked. 

Arthur saw it all.

Then, she started singing. 

Gray skies are gonna clear up

Put on a happy face

Brush off the clouds and cheer up

Put on a happy face

The spectators interjected, drowning out a portion of the lyrics as they released sounds of support. 

As Arthur leant into his tv screen, he was absolutely convinced nothing could deter his eyes, his hypnosis. Not even the whining of his mum, who had been entirely obstructed from viewing the screen.

He hadn’t even realised she was there, he’d forgotten all about her.  

Take off the gloomy mask of tragedy

It’s not your style

You’ll look so good that you’ll be glad

You decide to smile

Arthur wished he was there in the room with (Y/n). In the crowd. To see her pretty (e/c) eyes glance over him and shoot him a wink. Or perhaps a smile. Anything - like the acknowledgement she gave him days prior. Just something to know that he really existed. That he wasn’t riding through life like a doormat - invisible, stepped on, beaten up and chucked around. No one really noticed the object, nor cared to, as it dejectedly rested below the door. Day after day.

Pick out a pleasant outlook

Stick out that noble chin

Wipe off that “full of doubt” look

Slap on a happy grin

Arthur began to grin when she saw her nerves were starting to leave her. Oh, how badly he wanted to applaud her. Encourage her. 

And spread sunshine all over the place

And put on a happy face

One hand released the microphone, moving to her face as she traced the outline of her upturned lips, a short, accidental giggle slipping out. It made Arthur’s heart swell! 

The band complemented her style perfectly. Their contrasting deep voices were melodic as they harmonised with her humming. 

Gray skies are gonna clear up

Put on a happy face

Brush off the clouds and cheer up

Put on a happy face

Arthur found his form lightly swaying to the tune, his grin extending from ear to ear, impossibly deeper.  

She was really into it now, and he could tell she could feel the music rushing through her, now a conduit for the art. When he saw the confidence which had manifested, growing with each passing second, his mind swarmed with joy, his mind conjuring a bundle of soothing words he noiselessly projected through the cubic barrier before them - to her. 

And if you’re feeling cross and bickerish

Don’t sit and whine

Think of banana splits and licorice

And you’ll feel fine

She disconnected the microphone from the stand, bringing it under her chin. Quickly she departed from her spot with a small spin, strutting across the rest of the stage - something that got the fans rowdy; wooing. Her body swung to the beat, shoulders moving with her.

I knew a girl so gloomy

She’d never laugh or sing

She wouldn’t listen to me

Now she’s a mean old thing

Now incredibly expressive - antithetical from when she first began - she accompanied her singing by miming the lyrics. A fist rocked below her eyes imitating tears in a burlesque manner, and a fake frown contorted her features. Though, no matter how sad she pretended to be, Arthur knew just by the twinkle in her eyes that she was bursting with happiness.   

So spread sunshine all over the place

And put on a happy, happy face

Put on a happy, happy, happy face

During the final verse, she had moved closer to the camera, dragging out the closing note with a high. 

Oh, come on bubby, smile, it’s your birthday!

She made direct eye contact with the lens and winked. 

Arthur’s chest tightened at the action, and he couldn’t help but take it personally; as if the playful act was directly meant to be for him. Him and only him. 

Applause nearly deafened Arthur as it reverberated around the room, projecting shockingly loud for such a small device. Scrambling, his hands tried to lower the volume. Unfortunately, in his rush, his clumsy hands instead knocked up against another button, changing the channel entirely in the process. 

Regrettably for Arthur, the noise emitted only worsened. Although the tv was no longer on the Murray Franklin show, it was now on a channel playing an old war movie. Explosions and the earthshaking noises of artillery filled his crappy apartment, gunfire jolting his poor, unexpecting form. Letting out his shock with a shout, and a string of curses, his hands automatically moved to cover his ears - a reaction he midway stopped; gaining some control, he felt the device vibrate beneath his fingertips when they finally discovered the volume button. When he had readjusted the strength, he returned back to the station, free from the clamour, the show now on commercial break. 

He sighed, running a hand through his unkempt hair. 

Why was he so fucking clumsy? 

Even the smallest things he couldn’t seem to get right. 

Gentle snoring shifted his awareness from his self-deprecating mental exchange, and when he looked over to the noise, he saw his mother asleep in her chair. Her head was tilted against her shoulder, her mouth open. It was a sight that made him laugh through his nose; something that managed to halt the negativity which began to swarm in his mind, like a vicious cloud of hornets. 

Arthur didn’t know how his mother could one minute be the lightest sleeper on earth, then the next, swing to the other extreme. It was a miracle she slept through his fuck up, but then again, if she were in a deep sleep, he was confident enough to bet she’d sleep through a natural disaster. 

It was honestly impressive.

Emitting a soft groan as his palms pushed himself up from his sitting position, he trailed from one end of his apartment to the other. He opened one of the squeaking cabinets near the bathroom, the small storage space containing miscellaneous items. Though, it mostly harboured their modest collection of towels and blankets. As his eyes skimmed the shelves, from top to bottom, they soon fell onto what he was searching for. On the very bottom, his hands gripped onto an old quilt. It was soft to touch, though when he moved to collect it, he felt small pricks against his flesh as his arms maneuvered to fit its length. 

Feathers. 

The floral pattern, which was a chaotic blend of reds, pinks, whites and cremes was gaudy and straining to look at. Arthur guessed it was a victorian design, and it was quite apparent that it was a style he wasn’t fond of. He didn’t think he ever understood the things his mother liked. It was definitely a selective taste.  

Shaking away his absentmindedness, and the staredown he was giving the blanket in his hand, he moved back to the living room, rounding behind his mother’s chair as he gently placed the cover against her. She was still snoring, some of them morphing into snorts. He honestly did try to contain his giggling, but most of it slipped out. To try and lessen the ache in her neck she was bound to wake up with tomorrow, he lastly righted her position. 

The upbeat music coming from the tv began again, letting Arthur know his favourite show had returned. Hurried, his lips pressed up against his sleeping mother’s forehead before returning back to his spot in front of the tube.  

“Welcome back, everyone! If you’re just tuning in, we have the lovely (Y/n) with us.”

For what was probably the 100th time, the crowd responded to Murray, who was sitting back at his desk, gaze set towards the camera. 

“And I’ve got good news for you, kid!”

(Y/n) looked up at the host from her chair, eyebrows furrowing. 

“What do you-” 

Murray interrupted. 

“I’ve set you up with a few clubs. We can’t let talent like yours go on without reward, it would be a disservice. On behalf of Gotham city, I think we can all agree we need some joy in these troubling times, and your presence just seems to radiate it.”

(Y/n) was evidently stunned. Suddenly, to her, some of his awful jokes had been worth it. 

“This isn’t a prank, right?” she turned to the audience, eyes expanded wholly making the audience explode into chuckles. Arthur found himself joining in. 

“I assure you lovely, we wouldn’t do that to ya.” 

“Your first gigs gonna be at Pogo’s comedy club. And yes, although it is a comedy club, they’ve made an exception. It’s best to start small and work your way up into the bigger names.”

Arthur’s chest constricted. 

He went there all the time! 

He could see her perform!

Talk to her! 

Finally have the chance to introduce himse-

“So what do you say, darling?” Murray piped up, his eyes giving her an encouraging glance.

Arthur leaned forward, nose about to touch the screen in anticipation.

Her hands found her cheeks as she tried to conceal the spreading heat. Even in darkness, she was convinced the crimson flush would be bright enough to light up the room. While Murray had said a few off comments here and there, things she didn’t agree with, he truly had been welcoming to her. She thought maybe, just maybe, she had been too harsh on him.   

“I-I don’t know what to say?!” 

Please say yes - please say yes - please say yes. 

“You could say, yes?” Murray shot her a playful look.  

The woman finally nodded, adrenaline and joy manipulating her quaking frame, “yes! Yes! Thank you so much!” 

Arthur’s fists shook in the air, a sigh he wasn’t aware he was holding, released.

(Y/n) got up from her seat, shooting up like a rocket as she made her way behind Murray’s desk. He followed her actions and removed himself from his chair, and accepted the hug she pulled him into with a ‘whoa’.

“Well, there you have it, folks! Pogo’s, Friday night, at seven. Be there or be square!” 

With a little whisper to (Y/n), she was sent off, back to the area with the microphone. 

“Goodnight, tune in next time, and always remember-”

Instantly, the legendary keyboard tune started playing, and (Y/n) prepared herself to sing once more. 

“-that’s life!” Arthur mimicked.

For one final performance, the camera panned away from Murray, setting on (Y/n) as the credits rolled. Arthur relished in the sound, the lyrics hitting his very soul. 

That’s life (that’s life), that’s what people say

You’re riding high in April, shot down in May

But, I know I’m gonna change that tune

When I’m back on top, back on top in June

I said, that’s life, (that’s life), and as funny as it may seem

Some people get their kicks,

Stompin’ on a dream

But I don’t let it, let it get me down

Cause, this fine old world it keeps spinning around

He sunk into the numbing feeling of the lyrics, forcing himself to close his eyes. He didn’t even realise the song was nearing its end until she reached the final verse.  

My, My!

With the expression of dazed euphoria, Arthur opened his eyes, watching her part from the microphone, the credits now over. 

“Thank you,” was the only thing she said, her beaming expression the last thing Arthur saw. 

The show ended. 

Arthur, who was abandoned by the gentle, radiant hue of the cube before him, was consumed by the darkness. It dwelled within the room as the device had been switched off by his lingering hand. 

He didn’t know how long he sat in silence for. His mother had finally stopped snoring.

He didn’t want to watch television; didn’t feel like it. He wanted to soak in the episode he’d just witnessed - flick through the memorable moments for the rest of the night. 

He wanted to think about what he’d say to (Y/n) when he finally met her officially - he wanted it to be perfect. While the little wave she gave him days ago would have been such an insignificant action to most, it wasn’t to Arthur. It was real.

And the fact that he knew it was, reeled him in like an unsuspecting fish speeding to bait. 

Well and truly, Arthur was bewitched.

The sombre air surrounding him - a mood that always seemed to cling to him - and the dim blue hue which encompassed his apartment, strangely didn’t feel so bad for once. Hell, he didn’t feel so bad for once.

With the image of her smile repeating in his head, he didn’t feel so...

Alone. 

[ironmartyr]

just want to get a few words out of my chest and hopefully feel better because today is a mess:

i remember glee aired here when i was around 11 on national tv, it was from monday to friday at 7pm and i would watch it religiously in my room while my parents would make dinner. rachel was the charcter i’d feel most connected to, the kid with big dreams in a shitty small city. story of my life, still today.  santana was not my favourite character, but was someone i could relate to as well somehow, especially as i grew up, because she had that whole pent up anger and felt like having to put a tough exterior all the time.  i am like that on so many ways and as of today  ( eleven years later )  i’m still trying to figure out how to heal from that, be better.  her coming out story was important to me, because i know how difficult it is to be lgbtq+ in a heavily realigious enviroment.  i’m still closeted when it comes to my family, but it gave the strength to at least starting a conversation with my closest friends.

i wasn’t really into any of the cast personal lives after the show ended, but i would still snoop around their twitter and instagrams every now and then  ---  they still feel like an important part of my teenagehood.  i was devasted the day cory was found, i remember waking up and reading on twitter that he was gone, and had to carry on with my day like nothing happened because people wouldn’t understand.  i also remember crying at the table while having lunch because every news channel was talking about it. july 13th is an all around bad day for me  ( later in the evening my cousin died after fighting for years against a disease )  and these seven years have always felt quite heavy one reason or another.  i spent most of that day crying in my room, the rest of my summer and school year were a mess.  i had to move on from that too, and it wasn’t pretty. 

when i heard naya went missing my heart skipped a beat.  i don’t believe glee is cursed, that’s stupid thinking, but it breaks my heart that these people  ( because we see them from the outside and don’t know their lives, even if we tend to forget it )  have to go through these kind of stuff and now it’s their third time.  my heart breaks because naya seemed to have found her balance finally and it’s unfair that she got ripped away from her son, family and friends.  it’s just brutal.  these days i’ve been jumpy a lot, sleep deprived, my eyesight went to hell for how much i’d stay on my phone checking for news.  i don’t know if there’s an afterlife, but i hope she’s okay now, wherever she may be.  i wish life would have been more fair to her, and to cory too. 

and honestly fuck 2020 and it’s shitty coincidences and whatever.

[rockettransman]

Rocketman Watch #4 Thoughts

i have so many MORE thoughts can you believe it wow here we go

(i wrote these as i watched it so they’re in order im p sure)

man, his intro monologue during group therapy is just as gripping as it was when I first watched it. And the transition to the bitch is back is so fuckin good. My palms are sweating.

There’s some commentary about forgiving and loving your inner/past child, but I don’t have the words for it at this moment. In the beginning he’s staring down, confused and scowling at his child self, but at the end, he embraces him in a way his father and loved ones never did.

Was he in therapy/rehab WHILE touring and doing music? Stomping into the room in his regalia would have me believe so. I know group therapy was a medium for storytelling. Was it just signaling the very beginning of his story, because we go through different stages through his actions and clothing changes?

Lmao I imagine it must take some pretty cool parents to allow their, like, six or seven year old child to be in this movie. He said bitch so many times.

Took me a hot second to realize the orchestra he’s conducting is playing Rocket Man. The violins are so pretty. Imagine being picked to be in the orchestra on set and getting smile up at the tiny little kid who played Elton. My heart would absolutely swell seeing a little kid being so fantastic at this really intense job.

Kit Connor did amazing in his role. He’s fifteen and he’s already done so much! Imagine growing up knowing you played Elton John as a kid. Getting to work alongside him and his husband and the dozens of incredible actors. Wowie. I’d never shut up about it.

I LOVE how 12 year old Elton is playing the piano SO HARD and is trying to rock out as hard as he can while playing classical music. The boy wanna ROCK dammit.

HE GLANCED UP THE TINIEST BIT WHEN THE MAN ASKED IF ANYONE HAD A FAG (slang for cigarette)

SATURDAY NIGHTS ALRIGHT GIVES ME CONSTANT CHILLS FROM THE START TO FINISH

WOOOW SEVENTEEN YEAR OLD ELTON IS CUTE AS HEEELLLL. The hair, glasses, and front tooth gap fit Taron so well. Goddamn I hope I look like 17 year old Elton some day.

The choreography for this number is absolutely breathtaking. You have to get that many people all in sync! We followed Elton running through the crowd and AAHHH it was a lot! The athleticism! And they did it in the rain! Wow I’m blow away.

Elton is JAMMIN in the back of the stage. It’s really sweet to see his smile and enthusiasm and his brain thinking and working.

That guy in the back peed a LOT lmao

I was wondering where thank you for all of your loving came in.

Charlie Rowe plays Ray Williams, and he also plays LEO ROTH from Red Band Society!!! The first time I watched the movie, I KNEW him from somewhere, but I couldn’t place it and it was driving me nuts. Man. RBS was a big crutch during the worst lows of my ED. Had no idea he was English.

Love to see how shy Elton was as a teenager. It’s a hot ass mood. Also, those silk scarves? Ascots? idk but they’re a LOOK.

“One frothy coffee, no froth.”

The acquaintances-to-best-friends montage set to Border Song *chefs kiss*

Rock And Roll Madonna Is A Perfect Song Send Tweet

Lmao Elton is NOT phased at all when he gets accused of being gay. He’s just like. “Nah. I’m like. Not.” Not overly defensive and surprised, like I’m sure other people would be lmaooo

STUMBLING HOME DRUNK WITH YOUR BEST FRIEND IS A MILESTONE IN TEENAGEHOOD!!!!!!!

“You are a ssSSHHIIIITT HOT piano player—”

So delicate of Bernie the way he politely denied a kiss from him. It wasn’t weird or tense at all. Just a gentle “love you, but not that way. It’s okay” Some people may not be able to handle it that well even today.

Taron’s got nice thighs. That robe & underwear getup is a nice look.

Love love LOVE hearing him experiment with Your Song on the piano to find a melody that worked.

Honestly what the shit do these songs even mean. Bernie sometimes these words don’t make any sense. Don’t worry, they still slap. “See I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue” like what

AMOREENA IS A PERFECT SONG SEND TWEET

Doug flirting with Bernie makes me snort every time. “Oh, really? That’s.. cool.”

THE TROUBADOUR OUTFIT IS GOOD AS SHIT!!!!!!!!

“NO, BERNIE. YOU ARE UNDERREACTING.”

Taron was right. The overalls do make his ass look massive.

A week ago before this movie I was sick and fuckin TIRED of crocodile rock but now I can’t get enough of it. The movie transformed a lot of old songs I was sick of for me.

Imagine being a kind of shy, nervous kid, terrified to go on stage, but two and a half minutes later the entire venue is LOSING IT because they love the jam YOU WROTE. how cool for Elton.

I want a best friend platonic cheek kiss :(

Hmmmmm I’m wondering if they used the studio recordings that went on the album for the movie or have different movie-specific recordings. Tiny Dancer sounds a teeny bit different in the movie version.

Goddamn I sure hope Taron got to keep that jacket.

“So you liked the song, then?” “Not as much as the singer” *Elton glances away in gay panic*

LMFAO John said some weird colorful words to Elton that barely made sense and he was like OH FUCK GOTTA KISS HIM GOTTA KISS HIM

I’ve talked so much about the sex scene I don’t need to go on about it here. Go search the rocketman tag on my blog for my extensive gay thoughts about it.

Now I know glasses come OFF during sex

oh oh oh I was wondering where Hercules fell in the movie. I love how the songs he’s writing or getting notoriety for is played over the transition scenes.

Elton’s hand on his hip, knowing smirk as John enters the studio. “Hello.”

Bernie is like “HELLO are we RECORDING or are y’all gonna FUCK in the CLOSET?”

*vibrating* Honky Cat Honky Cat Honky Cat Honky Cat

Damn, the flowy white button down with the red pants really is a LOOK

The gestures, staring up at each other, leaning into each other, hands on each other’s chests, damn it makes me feel some typa way. Maybe their love WAS good and fun and exciting while they rode the high of everything before it all went so so bad.

Elton searching John’s gaze while he’s talking and looking like he’s not really paying attention, just looking for a kiss on the couch.. GOD I remember the honeymoon phase of my relationships. So much fun.

His dad going “N-Not really my thing.” That was a metaphor for his SEXUALITY TOO, huh.

Damn. He went to his dad’s to come out to him and he never even got to get to that part. He was just like “....nice shoes....” and even after all this time, didn’t show any interest in his music. If he never was into what he did, how could he even talk about being gay? I’m sure during that scene there were a lot of metaphors to sexuality but I didn’t bother to think much about them.

The eyebrow quirk after his dad says “ah—no. Could you make it out to Arthur?” DAMN Elton was like .. “really. This is what’s happening? Okay. Awesome.”

“What do you have to do to get a fucking drink around here, eh?” *cuts to Elton drinking straight from a bottle*

“Elton—” “Elton!”

John saying “don’t you ever put your hands on me” when he was the one who yanked him from the phone booth AND directly after punching him... woof man. What a shitty dude.

Damn, just noticed John talking very quietly and closely to another man right before he goes on and plays Pinball Wizard. Was this the first sign of him having fun with other men when Elton was indisposed?

Pinball Wizard is absolutely intense and loud and fun, but it DOES carry the tone of “god im SO miserable” under it all. You knew Elton wasn’t having fun.

“It is next week.” Jeezus.

LMAO I just caught the “mom, you’re ON my GOWN” when he reluctantly complies to give the Anderson’s a tour.

Damn, flowy, loose dress shirts with the first few buttons undone is a LOOOOK.

How did they do the overdose scene, you think? Surely the pills Taron took had to be like. Empty. Or placebo affect drugs? Idk. He did take a big drink directly after stuffing his mouth with them. I don’t think he spit them out.

God, there is SOMETHING symbolic about how he meets his child self at the bottom of the pool. Rock bottom? Apologizing? Wishing he could be better? Telling him he’ll never be better?

OH I watched a behind the scenes cut about the pool scene, and none of it was CGI. Taron was weighted under his robe and a SCUBA diver was on standby to provide oxygen. The singing and bubbles coming out of his mouth and stuff underwater was all real.

Dying to know about the choreography around the second chorus, about the undressing and twirling and dressing and injection and handing off of the bat and stuff. That sequence was incredible.

Bennie and the Jets. Damn. It fucks. I listened to it almost the entire time on my run today. (Five miles; I felt like garbage the entire time but it was good anyway.) The scene is wild. He’s in the middle of a drug induced haze orgy. He SHOULD be having the time of his life but he’s so goddamn miserable. (Also, the juxtaposition between Chris Fleming’s Bennie and the Jets is so funny.)

Part of the problem was that John never understood Elton. But, Elton broke it off with John, not the other way around like he said it was. He wasn’t the victim in that regard. John did treat him like shit though.

Victim of Love plays right after that lmao

Renate and he aren’t even close when they do the duet to don’t let the sun go down on me. They’re separated in different rooms, mirroring literally how closed off their relationship was.

The shot with them waking up in different rooms.. damn

His shirt is so LOUD I’m going crazy

Watching Taron down that orange juice made me a little nauseous I gotta say

“Not really I’m gAy”

It’s CRAZY to watch Elton and his mom interact at the dinner scene. He gets accosted and accused of so much by his mom, claiming SHE’S the victim of his actions, making it all about HER and then he turns around and does and says the exact same shit to Bernie.

He yells “Oh, don’t be so dramatic!” at Bernie as he gets into a taxi. THE PROJECTION!! THE DEFLECTION!!!!

I know there’s only so much they can put in two hours, but I wish they showed more of Elton’s eating issues. He had bulimia for sixteen years before he got help. It’s Absolutely the Man With Anorexia in me, but seeing that even men deal with eating disorders quells the lonely aching something in me. I feel that much less alone, you know. Eating disorders aren’t a “woman’s disease.”

How do you think they did his hair? A wig adds more hair, not take it away. He didn’t get his hair cut for it did he?

Seeing Elton’s first love fall apart because John was such a selfish, heartless prick in reality makes me sad.

Elton hugs his inner child when he reconciled with everyone in his past. Goddamn. He found peace and forgiveness for himself, who he was, even after all that time.

When Elton asks him not to go, Bernie refuses, saying this is something he had to do on his own. Healing comes from within alone. No one can help you do it. People can guide you, but you have to work at it. It’s fucking lonely sometimes, but it’s so, so worth it.

I used to loathe I’m Still Standing since i heard it so much at work, but the movie changed my entire perspective on it. I love the slow build up as he exits the rehab center. You don’t get thrown into something so happy and fast paced and fun after a cathartic climax you need to drink in. And the pan to his hat with the rainbow stripe to his smile. I get chills every time. Elton feels so right and secure and happy in himself. At first I thought it was a bit cheesy, but accepting your sexuality, especially after all the hell he went through during his life, grappling with unresolved trauma and fear of abandonment, he absolutely should wear it loud and proud. It’s easy to think times are much easier now being gay, and it shouldn’t be such a big deal. Relative to 1975, it is easier. But it doesn’t mean it’s not such a rough personal thing to work through if you’ve been spit on and resented all your life. Being gay, coming out, and accepting and being comfortable with that fact must’ve been such a HUGE milestone in Elton’s recovery and self-esteem.

Love me again after I’m still standing is perfect. The credits make me tear up every time. Jeez. What a good movie. What a good movie. Hit me up if you wanna talk about Rocketman because I absolutely will with you.

[sockmonstergotstyle]

So I finished The Dream Thieves

Well that was all a little stressful

I don’t really know what to say

I love the description in these books, especially the night scenes. Like Kavinsky’s parties, Ronan street racing. Like u can see it happening and feel like you’re there. It’s sooo good

I’m not gonna be able to handle all the angst to come like Blue literally just touched Gansey’s neck and I was like this is how I die

Chapter 56 tho. “Hey Lynch I didn’t leave that car for it to just sit there while you blow III”. Iconic. Moving. Inspiring. The best written chapter I’ve ever read. Maggie’s way with words is just incredible

Gansey leaves town for two days and Ronan gets into drugs and crashes a car, and Adam disappears

We actually have a new segment to this review thing now!! An entire section written by me, at the exact time of reading! My in-the-moment thoughts! So I interrupt our usual shitposting for my firsthand reaction to Adam and Blue:

Adam I pissing me off to the HIGHEST level akdjsksjaka he’s in Blue’s fave every 2 seconds like WhY WoNT YoU KisS mE and when Blue gets angry about it he’s all YoU rEallY ArE A RaGinG FemiNIsT and then proceeds to ASK AGAIN why she won’t kiss him akdjsksjaka shut the fuck uppppppppp

Like I knowwwwww he’s got shit going on but that gives him zero (0) right to treat her like that if I was Blue I would’ve blocked his number by now

NOW HES TRYING TO MAKE HER KISS HIM ANYWAY FUCKING LEAAAVVVEEEEEEEEEE

And now Blue feels guilty about it??? She thinks she’s in the wrong???? Hunny no u owe him nothing

Thank you for reading my in the moment thoughts! So real! So intimidate! Anyway back to the usual

I don’t like cucumber but I’d eat cucumber sandwiches if it meant I got to sit next to Richard Campbell Gansey III

Kavinsky was so fucked up lmao like he clearly had a crush on Ronan and instead of just dealing with it like a person he stole his brother??? That’s not how u get the guy my dude

I can only picture Adam’s shitty car as the car from The Inbetweeners akdjsksjaka

Gonna start a support group for teenage boys with wayward children. It’s literally just for Gansey and Julian Blackthorn

And Jem Carstairs since he babysat Will for most of his teenagehood

Wait I think I just worked out what my type is

Why was it never explained why Niall Lynch was flashed by the Devil someone please explain

Niall sounds like a funny guy tho like everyone else with these dream powers is like making hundreds of cars and dragons and magical boxes and he just. Made a wife and a toaster.

So is the gray man important now? Is that a thing now? He’s gonna be in the other books? Ok

That cave sure sounds fun

Can Gansey just die already I don’t wanna have to deal with angst

Anyway this is getting long so I’ll just shut up. I really enjoyed this, in fact this one minght be my fave out of the two I’ve read. I’m looking forward to seeing more of Blue in book 3 tho. We stan

I’m hoping Adam gets help too. The boy is a mess. I’m trying so hard to like him but Jesus he makes it hard. Also don’t think he should be allowed alone with Blue until he gets said help since he’s nearly lashed out at her like twice now. I’m hoping his arc is gonna become one of healing as the series continues

I really don’t wanna have to deal with the Blue and Gansey angst guys I can’t do it

[vincess-princess]

Genderbent Crue, p. 2: Vince

(This one turned to be so. damn. big. fucking 1786 words, what the actual fuck. i didn’t even expect it and now i feel ashamed because i wrote twice fewer words for nikki. school’s really getting in the way now and i’m so tired so i’m sorry it took a while and next one will probably too. placing it under a cut because it’s just. so big)

Violet Whitley Neil thinks she was born in the shittiest place possible - Compton. She’s not entirely wrong.

Her parents loved her and her little brother, but she didn’t get to see it often – they were always at work. She knew that, but as she grew older it had become less and less believable.

Being the only white family in the neighborhood was hard. Being the only white girl in neighborhood was even harder. That's why the two things most well-preserved in her memory from her childhood are: 1) Don't go out at night, and if you really need to 2) Don't be afraid to fight for your life, because if you don’t, nobody will.

The second rule was hard for a petite girl to follow, and along with always carrying around a switchblade, she had to find other ways. Like enamoring the local ringleader. Always worked.

She was pretty, and she knew that from unnaturally young age. She learned it from the way the boys looked at her, tried to touch her, wanted to share a desk with her. She wasn’t stupid, and she noticed everything. At first it caused only discomfort, the way boys pushed her around, hiked up her skirt and called her names trying to get her attention. She grew up, and she began to understand why. It didn’t make it more comfortable, though.

She had her first boyfriend when she was ten, and it'd all been fun and games, just children being children. When the games had become too serious she didn't quite remember, but she remembered very well the moment when a pharmacist had refused to sell her condoms, "girl, what are you, twelve?". Someone in the line muttered something indignantly, the others scowled, and she swallowed her resentment and fled. But these disapproving whispers haunted her for the rest of the day.

School was hard and really not worth the effort. Letters and numbers in the books didn't make sense, and after a while she gave up trying to understand them. "Thinking about boys again?", the teachers used to call her out, seeing this only as laziness, and soon she became convinced of it herself. Everybody was saying that good girls should study well and shouldn't date so many boys. Maybe she wasn't a good girl after all, she decided. Not that it really bothered her.

Then Violet heard soul and rock n’ roll for the first time and absolutely lost her mind. She had no money for records, and her parents, though not forbidding her to listen to it, didn’t either. She shoplifted and outright cheated, her favorite trick pretending to be short of money in shops, and everyone liked helping a pretty girl. She lied to her parents that she got a job to explain her constantly growing pile of records, and they were so glad to hear that their daughter didn’t spend her all free time hanging out with boys that they didn’t ask questions. She went to concerts and met new people there, and soon discovered weed and alcohol. She also discovered that she could get it for free if she talked the right way with the right people.

After that school suddenly became an important place in Violet’s life – a place to sell weed. She was making big money out of it until someone snitched to the headmaster about it and she was suspended. The only reason that bitch avoided her revenge was that Violet didn’t want to go to school anyway. When her suspension ended she just didn’t show up.

By that time, tired of all the dangers of Compton and uncontrollability of their daughter, Violet’s parents moved the kids to their aunt’s place. Another school, in which Violet wasn’t interested in a slightest, ended up being all the same. She would come to lessons completely stoned and just sit there, not listening or watching anything, not even reacting when she was called. You don’t need education to be a rock star, so why bother?

Her real life always started after lessons. She had a thing for bad boys, some were from local gangs, some were aspiring musicians, some were rich kids with inexhaustible money and weed in their pockets. She loved sex, and they loved her for that. She laughed when needed, smoked weed in their cars, took their money and never believed anything they said. She was long disillusioned about love – it was always just lust in disguise. The heartbreaker, they called her, and she only laughed at them, those silly boys still had so much to learn. The whore, others called her, and those times she never laughed; she could never force them to change their minds, but she could make them respect her. And she did, with a punch, a scratch, a kick, an insult, because the other thing she learned about boys was that they respected only force.

At this time she started taking part in lip-sync competitions with her friends. She ran around the stage, hair messy, lipstick smeared, and screamed into an imaginary microphone, and people actually liked it. This was the time when posters of The Runaways were in every teenager’s room, and she wasn’t an exception. Hello, daddy! Hello, mom! I’m your ch-ch-cherry bomb! Everyone told her she looked like Cherie Currie, and she believed she could sing just as good. She wore the shortest skirt and the highest heels in her class, and this was probably a reason why a new kid accosted her right after the first lesson to ask her to be in his band. She agreed, of course. The Runaways weren’t formed in one day, and this was a start.

Months went by like this, all days merged into one, weed-smelling, alcohol-tasting, rock n’ roll a constant background theme, until one day her life shattered into pieces. She got pregnant. Her at that time boyfriend begged her to keep the child. Her parents did the same, promising to help her raise him. She was only sixteen. She wasn’t ready. She was scared. She agreed.

Violet was at last kicked out of school. Her boyfriend, who tried to help her during pregnancy, bottled out a few weeks after the child’s birth. She named the child Vince Wharton, the name her parents said they would have given her if she was born a boy. After a few sleepless weeks she understood she couldn’t take it anymore. She had no love for this little red creature, his cries only driving her mad. She wanted back to her careless, free life. She gave up her child for adoption, visiting him occasionally at foster home, more out of duty than of love. After he was adopted, his new family forbid her to visit him, explaining it with her “promiscuous lifestyle”. Not that she was very disappointed by this.

After that Violet moved out to the other part of L.A. Her life never became the same, but it was still better. She worked some manual jobs, her lack of school diploma not letting her to get anything better-paid, but it was slowly driving her insane, all these dishes, all these coffees, all these customers, and she quickly found herself a sugar daddy just to escape them. She tried to resume her singing career then. It wasn’t hard, lots of bands wanted to have a sexy blondie as their frontman. She sang here and there, becoming pretty well-known among local rock n’ roll circle, both for her performances and her wanton lifestyle. Her sugar daddy tried to stop her, and she ditched him that very moment because no man would ever stand between her and her favorite thing. Her new one was a son of a McDonalds owner where she worked as a waitress. He was rich and a cocaine addict and didn’t mind her sleeping around as long as she lived with him. Things were getting back on track, but there still seemed to be something missing in her life, something she longed for since her teenagehood, something she’d never been able to put into words. Maybe because she wasn’t good with them, maybe because it wasn’t possible at all.

One of her friends from school, the only girl she got on well with while there, had been asking her to join her band for some time, but Violet never considered it serious. Her own band was considerably well-known, had gigs and fans, and a band consisting of a junkie who couldn’t even play properly, an inexperienced schoolgirl and an old unsuccessful guitarist was of no interest for her. Girl bands, despite the Runaways’ success, still weren’t taken serious; “they only do it to attract attention of boys,” she often heard, “girls don’t understand rock n’ roll.” She disagreed, but no one listened to her.

Things changed when she got kicked out of her own band, unexpectedly, with no warning. The other members thought that they would attract more girls with a male frontman. Violet wished them good fucking luck doing it with black eyes and missing teeth, but it still didn’t change a thing other than the fact that she’d never come back to that band again. All other options for her proved hopeless – the bands were ready to see her only as a groupie, not as a bandmate, - and she soon found herself digging around her room searching for that piece of paper with a number her friend had given her. Better a shitty band than no band.

She arrived at the place, and she saw them, three black-haired girls who were so alike they could be mistaken for twins but for the difference in their height and age. They could make an interesting contrast, three brunettes and one blonde, people are gonna love the image, but she needed to hear them first. The guitarist was much older than they all, and at first she shook her head at the thought, rock n’ roll was for the youth, after all… but then she started playing, a fast metal riff, and Violet had never heard a guitar sounding so strong; then the drums joined it, the junkie girl smiled like mad and grabbed her bass. Violet looked down, at the lyrics they gave her, and her high-pitched voice intertwined with the melody; and her heart sank, because there it was, there was the thing, echoing from the walls, the one she could never catch, the one she could never put into words. Here it was, in the air, in the loud music, in the messy black hair, in the high heels, in the grin of the junkie girl.

Maybe people wouldn’t take their band serious at first, she thought. But they would make them.

[motherboxing]

Sorry this is not the meme you asked for, but I remember you said Kitty Pryde is a favorite of yours? What comics would you rec for good Kitty content? (I've only read Uncanny X-Men 199 and 200 but she's SO GOOD in those)

Yeah! I fuckin’ love Kitty. Before I talk about the Kitty stories I like, I feel like I should clarify some things about what I like about Kitty, versus when I feel like she’s been done a disservice by dude writers who don’t really “get” her. 

So the thing about Kitty is she is just kind of a deeply sincere person. She can be sarcastic and even very occasionally cynical, and she can definitely be exhausted and beleaguered and pissed off, but ultimately Kitty is someone with a deep and abiding sense of who she is, what her own values are, and what she expects from the people around her. She became an X-Man very young - much like Jubilee - and filled a similar role, for a while, to the role that Jubilee has also at various points filled, and so I think there’s a tendency to compare the two (and also to compare those two to Rogue) and I think that does both characters a disservice because it always ends up being about, like, who people want to be their girlfriend. (I once got really mad at The Flophouse for doing an extended bit about how Rogue was like, the sexy taboo girl who you as a teenager wanted but couldn’t touch, and Kitty was a Nice Girl Who You Could Bring Home To Your Mother. SIGH.) (I get feeling that way when you’re like a straight fourteen year old boy but you are grown ass men now!!! why!!!!!!!!!!)

That’s the problem with a lot of - maybe the majority of - takes on Kitty. A certain kind of dude has a tendency to just write Kitty as his ideal girlfriend. I know this is like, a documented phenomenon (see also: In The Garage by Weezer - “I’ve got Kitty Pryde/waiting there for me”) and I mean, I get that it has a lot to do with Kitty being initially written as this very approachable teenage girl character, which appealed to a lot of teenage boys at the time, because she was a superhero girl but she didn’t seem like she’d react badly to some nerdy kid asking her out, you know? But at the same time, as a young girl reading comics, I related very strongly to Kitty in a very different way. And it frustrates me to no end that these dudes never seem to be able to let go of their initial youth-informed impressions of Kitty even when they’re, like, writing her. 

Subsequently I tend to be really wary of stories about Kitty that feature a romantic plot or subplot, although I do feel like to some extent she works well as a romantic heroine. It’s just that when she’s in a romantic story, writers tend to view her entirely through the eyes of the person she’s dating, instead of getting into her own head.

SO. TO THAT END. If you liked Uncanny X-Men 199 and 200 (that’s where she goes to the Holocaust Museum with Magneto, right? To honour her aunt?), I’d def recommend checking out her first appearance - it’s in a three-issue arc that was part of the Dark Phoenix Saga. This story gets referenced in a few other Kitty stories, so reading it will give you a good frame of reference for other stuff, too. The events of that story (watching the X-Men, who have taken her in during a really confusing time in her life and shown her that she’s not alone, literally caged by the Hellfire Club) are clearly super formative for her, and the story does a good job of establishing her overall voice and attitude (at least of that time). That’s in Uncanny X-Men 129-131.

Days Of Future Past is also probably essential Kitty reading - that’s Uncanny X-Men 141 and 142. The movie did not do that story justice and I’m irritable about it but whatever. Continuing with Claremont et al and Uncanny X-Men for a minute, there’s also Uncanny X-Men 168, which you should read just for the iconic “Professor Xavier is a JERK!” moment that gets referenced constantly. 

A lot of people liked Kitty Pryde And Wolverine but I find it kind of uncomfortable, I dunno. There’s an unfortunate period where Marvel decided that Kitty should take a level in badass or whatever by become, like, a ninja? That was weird. We don’t really speak of it.

I like some of the stuff with her and Pete Wisdom (who was certainly better for her than Colossus, I’m sorry, I love Colossus but DUDE! She was FOURTEEN! A fourteen year old dating a nineteen year old is a very different situation than, like, a 28 year old dating a 32 year old, you know? I wouldn’t say that their relationship was like, necessarily abusive or anything but it clearly was not healthy, it was a tumultuous first love that hurt them both but mostly hurt her, and while that appeals to me on one level* as someone who’s been a young woman in a similar situation, I am very uncomfortable with the explicit framing of their early relationship as the beginning of a great and enduring love affair.) - that happened in Excalibur, and also they had a series (miniseries?) for a while called Pryde And Wisdom that had some fun moments. I know Warren Ellis got a lot of flak for the fact that Wisdom was really obviously his self-insert Gary Stu and people didn’t like seeing him with Kitty but like… her last relationship before that was Colossus! At least Pete was, like, age-appropriate and didn’t dump her by falling for a woman who he LITERALLY could not have a conversation with. 

I’d skip a bunch of the Kitty In College stuff because during that period there was a glut of scenes where writers just made Kitty this extremely heavy-handed political mouthpiece for their own liberalism, and it aggravates me (a couple of times she uses the n-word because, like, it’s basically the same as someone calling her a “mutie”, right? No, Kitty. No.) But it has a few moments that are interesting in that you get to see this young woman who has been through a lot of literally unbelievable shit, but when it comes to, like, interpersonal relationships etc, it ultimately fairly naive and even sheltered. (To that end I could totally see like, Kitty being a kid in her first year of college who DOES, for a hot second, think it’s okay to say the n-word if she’s making a point about prejudice - I just don’t like that she never gets corrected and never gets a chance to like, realize that’s shitty and racist of her, you know? I’d be fine if it was like, “this young woman has had a very, very weird teenagehood and while she means well she’s prone to sticking her foot in her mouth in sometimes really awful ways, but when she does we as readers understand this as something she needs to get past in order to grow as a person” - but it’s not, so, like, whatever.) I forget what books that stuff took place in, though, you’d have to look it up. There was a story where she worked as a bartender or something.

I’m really loathe to recommend anything by Whedon but if I’m being totally, completely honest with myself, I did enjoy the Gifted storyline in his run of Astonishing X-Men. It has some moments that I cannot stand, and it has a LOT of Whedon’s obnoxious quippiness, but, I dunno, it has it’s charms. Everything Whedon does after that on that book is… ugh. UGH. So much of Whedon’s bog-fucking-standard issues (pregnancy horror, etc) and Kitty more and more just becomes Buffy and it’s gross. If you can tolerate Whedon dialogue I’d say like, torrrent Gifted or something (don’t pay for it lol) but beyond that you can skip everything he’s done with her. People make a big deal about how she phased a bullet through the Earth but trust me when I say that was just really stupid.

This got really long, I hope this is helpful!! I have a lot of feelings about Kitty.

*basically, catharsis